him over, from the crown of his gray hat to the tips of
his riding-boots, and laughed when his eyes came back to Good Indian's
face. But the laugh died out rather suddenly at what he saw there.

"Got the papers for that?" he asked calmly. But his jaw had squared.

"I've got something better than papers. Your boss is dead. I shot him
just now. He's lying back there by the stable." Good Indian tilted
his head backward, without taking his eyes from Stanley's face--and
Stanley's right hand, too, perhaps. "If you don't want the same
medicine, I'd advise you to quit."

Stanley's jaw dropped, but it was surprise which slackened the muscles.

"You--shot--"

"Baumberger. I said it."

"You'll hang for that," Stanley stated impersonally, without moving.

Good Indian smiled, but it only made his face more ominous.

"Well, they can't hang a man more than once. I'll see this ranch cleaned
up while I'm about it. I'd just as soon," he added composedly, "be
hanged for nine men as for one."

Stanley sat on his haunches, and regarded him unwinkingly for so long
that Phoebe's nerves took a panic, and she drew Evadna away from the
place. The boys edged closer, their hands resting suggestively upon
their gun-butts. Old Peaceful half-raised his rifle, and held it so. It
was like being compelled to watch a fuse hiss and shrivel and go black
toward a keg of gun-powder.

"I believe, by heck, you would!" said Stanley at last, and so long a
time had elapsed that even Good Indian had to think back to know what
he meant. Stanley squinted up at the sun, hitched himself up so that his
back rested against the tree more comfortably, inspected his cigarette,
and then fumbled for a match with which to relight it. "How'd you find
out Baumberger was back uh this deal?" he asked curiously and without
any personal resentment in tone or manner, and raked the match along his
thigh.

Good Indian's shoulders went up a little.

"I knew, and that's sufficient. The dead line is down past the Point
o' Rocks. After sundown this ranch is going to hold the Harts and their
friends--and NO ONE ELSE. Tell that to your pals, unless you've got a
grudge against them!"

Stanley held his cigarette between his fingers, and blew smoke through
his nostrils while he watched Good Indian turn his back and walk away.
He did not easily lose his hold of himself, and this was, with him, a
cold business proposition.

Miss Georgie stood where she was until she saw that St