der of the claims. The gambler's face was livid. He had boasted and
lashed himself into a bullying confidence that he knew was inadequate to
meet the situation he could not avoid. Hatred of the men who had balked
him more than once served him better.

"You four-flushers get off this ground," he blustered. "You're claiming
to represent Molly Casey's rights after you've kidnaped the girl and
sent her out of the state. It won't get you anywhere or anything. I've
got a half interest in these claims and I've plenty of witnesses to
prove it."

"I don't believe yore witnesses are half as vallyble as they might have
been before politics shifted in Herefo'd County," said Sandy. "You ain't
got a written contract an' it w'udn't do you a mite of good if you had,
fur as I'm concerned. Because I've been duly an' legally app'inted
guardeen to Casey's daughter Molly an' I'm here to represent her
interests, likewise mine. I've got my guardianship papers right with
me."

"A hell of a lot of good they'll do you in this camp," sneered Plimsoll.
"Representin' _her_ interests. I'll say you are, an' your own along with
'em." A laugh from his followers heartened him. "If the camp ever hears
the yarn of your running off with the girl and now, with her tucked
away, coming back to clean up, I've a notion they'd show you
four-flushers where you've sat in to the wrong game. Why...."

Something in Sandy's face stopped him. It became suddenly devoid of all
expression, became a thing of stone out of which blazed two gray eyes
and a voice issued from lips that barely moved.

"I've got a notion, too, Plimsoll. A notion that it 'ud be a good day's
work to shoot you fo' a foul-mouthed, lyin', stealin' crook! You sure
ain't worth bein' arrested fo', an' there ain't no open season fo'
two-laigged coyotes of yore sort, so I'll give you yore chance. You've
called me a fo'-flusher twice, an' the on'y way to prove a fo'-flush is
to call fo' a show-down. I'm doin' it."

The words came cold and even, backed by a grim earnestness that
imprinted itself on the lesser manhood of the jumpers as a finger leaves
its print in clay. They shifted back a little from Plimsoll, circling
out as they might have moved away from a man marked by pestilence. He
stood trying to outface Sandy, to keep his eyes steady. His lips were
tight closed, still he could not help but open his mouth to a quickened
breathing, to touch the lips with a furtive tongue that found the skin
peel