" continued Jeffries, tossing off signatures now with a
rubber stamp, and developing his incontestable theory at the same
time, "if you had put Gale Morgan up against Henry at, say five
hundred yards, and told them to shoot _at_ each other, instead of
against each other, you'd have got bull's-eyes to burn from de Spain.
And the Calabasas crowd wouldn't have your money. John, if you want to
win money, you must study the psychological."

There was abundance of raillery in Lefever's retort: "That's why you
are rich, Jeff?"

"No, I am poor because I failed to study it. That is why I am at
Sleepy Cat holding down a division. But now that you've brought Henry
up here, we'll keep him."

"What do you mean, keep him?" demanded Lefever, starting in protest.

"What do I mean?" thundered Jeffries, who frequently thundered even
when it didn't rain in the office. "I mean I need him. I mean the time
to shoot a bear is when you see him. John, what kind of a fellow is de
Spain?" demanded the superintendent, as if he had never heard of him.

"Henry de Spain?" asked Lefever, sparring innocently for time.

"No, Commodore George Washington, General Jackson, Isaac Watts de
Spain," retorted Jeffries peevishly. "Don't you know the man we're
talking about?"

"Known him for ten years."

"Then why say 'Henry' de Spain, as if there were a dozen of him? He's
the only de Spain in these parts, isn't he? What kind of a fellow is
he?"

Lefever was ready; and as he sat in a chair sidewise at the table,
one arm flung across the green baize, he looked every inch his
devil-may-care part. Regarding Jeffries keenly, he exclaimed with
emphasis: "Why, if you want him short and sharp, he's a man with a
soft eye and a snap-turtle jaw, a man of close squeaks and short-arm
shots, always getting into trouble, always getting out; a man that
can wheedle more out of a horse than anybody but an Indian; coax more
shots out of a gun than anybody else can put into it--if you want him
flat, that's Henry, as I size him."

Jeffries resumed his mildest tone: "Tell him to come in a minute,
John."

De Spain himself expressed contemptuous impatience when Lefever told
him the superintendent wanted him to go to work at Sleepy Cat. He
declared he had always hated the town; and Lefever readily understood
why he should especially detest it just now. Every horseman's yell
that rang on the sunny afternoon air through the open windows--and
from up the street and down ther