any such a thing," June protested. But her heart sank.
She was not sure whether her husband would grovel. If he did--if he
did--

The jeering voice went on taunting its victim. "If I was you I'd use that
gun or I'd crawl into a hole. Ain't you got any spunk a-tall? I'm tellin'
you that June's goin' with me instead o' you, an' that you're goin' to
tell her to go. Tha's the kind of a man she married."

"No, Mr. Houck, I don't reckon--"

Houck moved forward, evenly, without haste, eyes cold as chilled steel
and as unyielding. "Gimme that gun, if you ain't goin' to use it." He
held out a hand.

"Don't, Bob," begged June, in a panic of dismay.

While his heart fluttered with apprehension Bob told himself, over and
over, that he would not hand the revolver to Houck. He was still saying
it when his right arm began to move slowly forward. The weapon passed
from one to the other.

June gave a sobbing sound of shame and despair. She felt like a swimmer
in a swift current when the deep waters are closing over his head.

"Now tell her you ain't good enough for her, that you've got no sand in
yore craw, and she's to go with me," ordered Houck.

"No." Young Dillon's voice came dry from a throat like cotton.

The big man caught Bob's wrist and slowly twisted. The boy gave an
agonized howl of pain. June was white to the lips, but she made no
attempt to interfere. It was too late. Bob must show the stuff that was
in him. He must go through to a fighting finish or he must prove himself
a weakling.

"If you give her up now, you're a yellow dog, Dillon," his tormentor
sneered. "Stick it out. Tell me to go to red-hot blazes."

He took an extra turn on the wrist. Bob writhed and shrieked. Tiny beads
of perspiration stood on his forehead. "You're killin' me!" he screamed.

"Wish you'd gunned me when you had a chance, don't you?" Houck spat at
him. "Too late now. Well, what's it to be?" Again he applied the
torture.

The boy begged, pleaded, then surrendered. "I can't stand it! I'll do
anything you say."

"Well, you know yore li'l' piece. Speak it right up," ordered the
cattleman.

Bob said it, with his eyes on the ground, feeling and looking like a
whipped cur. "You better go with him, June. I--I'm no good." A sob choked
him. He buried his face in his hands.

Houck laughed harshly. "You hear him, June."

In a small dead voice June asked a question. "Do you mean that, Bob--that
I'm to go with him--that you give me up?"