e had said a number of highly insulting things, he was not satisfied.
He told himself that he did not care a hoot about Angus, nor about his
own prospective share in the ranch, which would be wiped out by a forced
sale. But he thought it hard luck for Jean. In spite of their quarrel,
he recognized that his brother had done most of the work for years. The
thought that a pork-faced old mortgage shark should get the ranch that
had been his father's was bitter.

However, he did not know what could be done about it. No doubt Angus had
consulted old Riley. The law was against him. The darn law, Turkey
reflected, was always against the ordinary man, which was not to be
wondered at since it was made by darn crooks. Coming such, Turkey
unconsciously sighed for the good, old days of stock which had no
special respect for the law, as days when dispossession was attended by
difficulties other than legal.

Under the circumstances, it seemed to Turkey that he should have a
drink. To get it he went around the block to a hostelry immediately
behind Mr. Braden's office. There he had a drink with the proprietor,
one Tom Hall. Then Tom had one with him. Five minutes later both had two
more with two strangers. Hall took his drinks from a private bottle
which contained cold tea. But four drinks of the kind he dispensed to
customers furnished a very fair foundation. Turkey had nothing
particular to do. Thus the end of a decidedly imperfect day found him
gently slumbering in an upstairs room of Tom's place.

When he awoke it was dark. He did not know where he was, and did not
care. Being young and in perfect health he had not the traditional
"splitting head." He was very dry, but that was all. He lay still, and
remembered that Tom had helped him to that room, taken off his boots and
told him to sleep it off. Apparently he had.

The window was open and the night air blew softly upon his face,
bringing with it the sound of voices from the next room. He heard the
scraping of chairs, the pop of a safety match, the clink of glass. Then
the voices became more audible, as if the occupants of the room had
drawn closer to the window. Listening idly, Turkey caught his own
surname. In a moment it was repeated.

In spite of the adage concerning what listeners are apt to hear of
themselves, and all honorable theories against eavesdropping, the
average person hearing his own name will prick up his ears. Turkey
rolled softly out of the bed, and in his