he peace talk."

Bob moistened his dry lips. "All set."

They rode down the hillside, topped another rise, and descended into the
draw where a camp was pitched.

A young fellow chopping firewood moved forward to meet them.

"There's Powder River with the broncs," Bob said in a low voice to his
friend.

"Yes," said Dud, and he swung from the saddle.

"'Lo, fellows. Where you headed for?" the wood-chopper asked amiably.

Two men were sitting by the fire. They waited, in an attitude of
listening. Dusk had fallen. The glow of the fire lighted their faces, but
the men who had just ridden up were in the gathering darkness beyond the
circle lit by the flames.

"We came to get Powder River, the bronc you rounded up for us," Hollister
said evenly. "Harshaw sent us ahead. We're sure much obliged to you for
yore trouble."

The larger of the two men by the fire rose and straddled forward. He
looked at Dud and he looked at Bob. His face was a map of conflicting
emotions.

"Harshaw sent you, did he?"

"Yes, sir. Bob had bad luck in the river an' the horse got away from him.
I reckon the pony was lightin' out for home when yore rope stopped the
journey." The voice of Dud was cheerful and genial. It ignored any little
differences of the past with this hook-nosed individual whose eyes were
so sultry and passionate.

"So he sent you two fellows, did he? I'll say he's a good picker. I been
wantin' to meet you," he said harshly.

"Same here, Houck." Bandy Walker pushed to the front, jerking a
forty-five from its scabbard.

Houck's hand shot forward and caught the cowpuncher by the wrist. "What's
bitin' you, Bandy? Time enough for that when I give the word."

The yellow teeth of the bow-legged man showed in a snarl of rage and
pain. "I'd 'a' got Dillon if you'd let me be."

"Didn't you hear this guy say Harshaw sent them here? Use yore horse
sense, man." Houck turned to Hollister. "Yore bronc's with the others.
The saddle's over by that rock. Take 'em an' hit the trail."

In sullen rage Houck watched Dud saddle and cinch. Not till the Slash
Lazy D riders were ready to go did he speak again.

"Tell you what I'll do," he proposed. "Get down off'n yore horses, both
o' you, an' I'll whale the daylight outa the pair of you. Bandy'll stay
where he's at an' not mix in."

Hollister looked at Bandy, and he knew the fellow's trigger finger
itched. There was not a chance in the world that he would stand back and
play fair. But