r into the saddle, hauling
his horse up high and goading him to plunge away.

Men running to the door and windows of the store saw a streak of dust
flying down the road. And then they trooped out to see it disappear. The
hour of suspense ended for them. Las Vegas had lived up to the code of
the West, had dared his man out, had waited far longer than needful to
prove that man a coward. Whatever the issue now, Beasley was branded
forever. That moment saw the decline of whatever power he had wielded.
He and his men might kill the cowboy who had ridden out alone to face
him, but that would not change the brand.

The preceding night Beasley bad been finishing a late supper at his
newly acquired ranch, when Buck Weaver, one of his men, burst in upon
him with news of the death of Mulvey and Pedro.

"Who's in the outfit? How many?" he had questioned, quickly.

"It's a one-man outfit, boss," replied Weaver.

Beasley appeared astounded. He and his men had prepared to meet the
friends of the girl whose property he had taken over, and because of the
superiority of his own force he had anticipated no bloody or extended
feud. This amazing circumstance put the case in very much more difficult
form.

"One man!" he ejaculated.

"Yep. Thet cowboy Las Vegas. An', boss, he turns out to be a gun-slinger
from Texas. I was in Turner's. Hed jest happened to step in the other
room when Las Vegas come bustin' in on his hoss an' jumped off.... Fust
thing he called Jeff an' Pedro. They both showed yaller. An' then, damn
if thet cowboy didn't turn his back on them an' went to the bar fer a
drink. But he was lookin' in the mirror an' when Jeff an' Pedro went fer
their guns why he whirled quick as lightnin' an' bored them both.... I
sneaked out an--"

"Why didn't you bore him?" roared Beasley.

Buck Weaver steadily eyed his boss before he replied. "I ain't
takin' shots at any fellar from behind doors. An' as fer meetin' Las
Vegas--excoose me, boss! I've still a hankerin' fer sunshine an' red
liquor. Besides, I 'ain't got nothin' ag'in' Las Vegas. If he's rustled
over here at the head of a crowd to put us off I'd fight, jest as we'd
all fight. But you see we figgered wrong. It's between you an' Las
Vegas!... You oughter seen him throw thet hunter Dale out of Turner's."

"Dale! Did he come?" queried Beasley.

"He got there just after the cowboy plugged Jeff. An' thet big-eyed
girl, she came runnin' in, too. An' she keeled over in Dale's ar