ot minding my own business. Tom
Lorrigan's a smart man--but I'm Tom Lorrigan's son."

Sam turned his foot over, looked critically at the calloused sole of
it, turned it back again and blew a mouthful of smoke. "Yeah--uh-huh.
You damn smart--you don't like them damn jail. I'm don't. We both
smart, you bet."

Lance lifted an eyebrow. "What's the Piegan word for _accomplice_,
Sam?" he asked softly.

Sam Pretty Cow considered. "Me, I'm don' know them damn word," he
decided.

"It's a word that sends smart men to jail, Sam. It means the man that
stays at home and--_knows_."

Sam Pretty Cow tucked his feet under the thin blanket, laid his
half-smoked cigarette on the box, with the burning end out over the
edge.

"Uh-huh. Yeah. You bet." He looked up at Lance, for the first time
meeting his eyes squarely. "I'm know them damn word you call. Nh-hn.
Long time I'm got that what it mean on my heart. You're damn right."
He waited a minute, saw the Lorrigan look on Lance's face, on his lips
that smiled enigmatically. "Them Californy got bronks to bust?"

"Surest thing you know, Sam. But that's all right. You stay."

Sam Pretty Cow looked doubtful as an Indian may ever be expected to
look.

"You stay, Sam. There'll be bronks to bust on the Devil's Tooth for a
long while yet." He moved to the door, pulled it open and stood
looking out. Only a few miles away Mary Hope lay asleep, loving him in
her dreams, please God. Here, the Shadow hung black over the Devil's
Tooth. He turned to Sam Pretty Cow whose hand was stretched toward the
smoky lamp.

"You forget that word, Sam. It doesn't mean anything at all--to a
Piegan. And Sam, if I'm not around to-morrow morning, you ride over to
the Douglas ranch, and take back the horse I borrowed. Belle may want
to send you to town. She's there."

Sam Pretty Cow's eyes widened appreciably. "Uh-huh--all right. I'm
go," he promised, and blew out the light.

Lance went slowly up to the house and lay face downward on his bed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE DOPE

Traveling lightly, Lance had covered a hundred and fifty miles in four
days, through country where trails were few and rough. He had made
wide detours, had slept on the ground in his slicker, had eaten bacon
and bannocks cooked in the small frying pan which he carried in the
sack with his meager rations. He had missed altogether the Devil's
Tooth outfit, and was swinging back now by way of the Lava Beds, where
Tom had said th