. The astonishing
possibility occurred to Joe Rix that this seemed to be a man with a
broken spirit and a great sorrow. He blinked that absurdity away.

"Coming to cases," he went on, "there's yourself, Mr. Donnegan. Now,
you're the sort of a man that don't sidestep nobody. Too proud to do it.
But even you, I guess, would step careful if there was a whole bunch
agin' you."

"No doubt," remarked Donnegan.

"I don't mean any ordinary bunch," explained Joe Rix, "but a lot of hard
fellows. Gents that handle their guns like they was born with a holster
on the hip."

"Fellows like Nick's crowd," suggested Donnegan quietly.

At this thrust the eyes of Joe narrowed a little.

"Yes," he admitted, "I see you get my drift."

"I think so."

"Two hard fighters would give the best man that ever pulled a gun a lot
of trouble. Eh?"

"No doubt."

"And three men--they ain't any question, Mr. Donnegan--would get him
ready for a hole in the ground."

"I suppose so."

"And four men would make it no fight--jest a plain butchery."

"Yes?"

"Now, I don't mean that Nick's crowd has any hard feeling about you, Mr.
Donnegan."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"I knew you'd be. That's why I've come, all friendly, to talk things
over. Suppose you look at it this way--"

"Joe Rix," broke in Donnegan, sighing, "I'm very tired. Won't you cut
this short? Tell me in ten words just how you stand."

Joe Rix blinked once more, caught his breath, and fired his volley.

"Short talk is straight talk, mostly," he declared. "This is what Lester
and the rest of us want--the mines!"

"Ah?"

"Macon stole 'em. We got 'em back through Landis. Now we've got to get
'em back through the colonel himself. But we can't get at the colonel
while you're around."

"In short, you're going to start out to get me? I expected it, but it's
kind of you to warn me."

"Wait, wait, wait! Don't rush along to conclusions. We ain't so much in
a hurry. We don't want you out of the way. We just want you on our
side."

"Shoot me up and then bring me back to life, eh?"

"Mr. Donnegan," said the other, spreading out his hands solemnly on the
table, "you ain't doin' us justice. We don't hanker none for trouble
with you. Any way it comes, a fight with you means somebody dead besides
you. We'd get you. Four to one is too much for any man. But one or two
of us might go down. Who would it be? Maybe the Pedlar, maybe Harry
Masters, maybe Lester, maybe me! Oh, we know al