Calumet, who had turned his back and
was walking toward the door; "cool as ice water."

Sudden death had no terrors for these men; there was no inclination in
their minds to blame Calumet, and so they watched with admiration for
his poise as he stepped out through the door.

"Taggart'll be gettin' his," said a man.

"Not tonight," laughed another. "I seen him hittin' the breeze out.
An' sundown's quite a considerable distance away yet, too."

CHAPTER XVI

THE AMBUSH

If Calumet had any regret over the outcome of his adventure in the Red
Dog, it was that Neal Taggart had given him no opportunity to square
the account between them. Calumet had lingered in town until dusk, for
he had given his word and would not break it, and then, it being
certain that his enemy had decided not to accept the challenge, he
hitched his horses and just after dusk pulled out for the Lazy Y.
Something had been added to the debt of hatred which he owed the
Taggarts.

As he drove through the darkening land he yielded to a deep
satisfaction. He had struck one blow, a sudden and decisive one, and,
though it had not landed on either of the Taggarts, it had at least
shown them what they might expect. He intended to deliver other blows,
and he was rather glad now that he had not been so weak as to allow
Betty's dictatorial attitude to drive him from the ranch, for in that
case he would never have discovered the plot to cheat him of his
heritage--would not have been in a position to bring discomfiture and
confusion upon them all. That was what he was determined to do. There
was no plan in his mind; he was merely going to keep his eyes open, and
when opportunity came he was going to take advantage of it.

The darkness deepened as he drove. When he reached the crest of the
slope from which that morning he had looked down upon Lazette, the
wagon entered a stretch of broken country through which the horses made
slow progress. After traversing this section he encountered a flat,
dull plain of sand, hard and smooth, which the horses appreciated, for
they traveled rapidly, straining willingly in the harness.

It was about nine o'clock when the moon rose, a pale yellow disk above
the hills that rimmed the valley of the Lazy Y, and Calumet welcomed it
with a smile, lighting a cigarette and leaning back comfortably in the
seat, with the reins held between his knees.

He presently thought of his weapons, drawing them out and reloading