s running fine and free. Along comes this
Donnegan. He busts up our good time. He forks in on your girl--"

A convulsion of the chief's face made Rix waver in his speech and then
he went on: "He shoots Landis, and when he misses killing him--by some
accident, he comes down here and grabs him out of Lebrun's own house.
Smooth, eh? Then he makes Landis sign that deed to the mines. Oh, very
nice work, I say. Too nice.

"'Now, speakin' man to man, they ain't any doubt that you'd like to get
rid of Donnegan. Why don't you? Because everybody has a jinx, and he's
yours. I ain't easy scared, maybe, but I knew an albino with white eyes
once, and just to look at him made me some sick. Well, chief, they ain't
nobody can say that you ever took water or ever will. But maybe the fact
that this Donnegan has hair just as plumb red as yours may sort of get
you off your feed. I'm just suggesting. Now, what I say is, let the rest
of us take a crack at Donnegan, and you sit back and come in on the
results when we've cleaned up. D'you give us a free road?"

How much went through the brain of Lord Nick? But in the end he gave his
brother up to death. For he remembered how Nelly Lebrun had sat in
Milligan's laughing.

"Do what you want," he said suddenly. "But I want to know none of your
plans--and the man that tells me Donnegan is dead gets paid--in lead!"

38

The smile of Joe Rix was the smile of a diplomat. It could be maintained
upon his face as unwaveringly as if it were wrought out of marble while
Joe heard insult and lie. As a matter of fact Joe had smiled in the face
of death more than once, and this is a school through which even
diplomats rarely pass. Yet it was with an effort that he maintained the
characteristic good-natured expression when the door to Donnegan's shack
opened and he saw big George and, beyond him, Donnegan himself.

"Booze," said Joe Rix to himself instantly.

For Donnegan was a wreck. The unshaven beard--it was the middle of
morning--was a reddish mist over his face. His eyes were sunken in
shadow. His hair was uncombed. He sat with his shoulders hunched up like
one who suffers from cold. Altogether his appearance was that of one
whose energy has been utterly sapped.

"The top of the morning, Mr. Donnegan," said Joe Rix, and put his foot
on the threshold.

But since big George did not move it was impossible to enter.

"Who's there?" asked Donnegan.

It was a strange question to ask, for by