s, the illumination of the
windows altered. High up, a tiny fleck of cloud caught the fire of the
as yet unseen sun, rolling on to dawn behind the range. Things seemed
flat, lacking full definition, lacking shadow. In the east the sky
showed gray behind the dark purple crests between which mists were
trailing. Men shivered, half from cold, half from tension and lack of
sleep.

"Plimsoll," said Sandy. "That peak oveh on Sawtooth Range is goin' to
catch the light first. I'll call it sun-up when the sun looks oveh the
mesa."

Plimsoll bared his teeth in a fox-grin. Sandy stood with his hands by
his sides, covering him with his eyes. Plimsoll looked at the hands that
he knew could move swifter than he could follow, he looked at the car
with Keith gazing from him to Sandy, he sensed the waiting strain of all
the men, waiting to see Sandy shoot--if he did not go, to see him
crumple up in the dust, and--he looked at the peak on Sawtooth and his
face grayed as the granite suddenly flushed with rose. His will melted,
he turned and went inside his cabin. No one followed him, there was no
one inside to greet him. His heart was filled with helpless rage,
centered against Sandy Bourke. He knew the camp was against him,
considering him outbluffed or outmatched. His horse, ready saddled, had
been at the door since midnight. He mounted, dug spurs into the beast's
flanks and went galloping madly up the slope that rose from the street
gulch leading down to the main gulch of Flivver Creek. He was
shortcutting for the mesa road, hate in his heart, his blood, his brain;
poisoning hate that turned all his secretions to gall. His plans for
wealth had been blocked by a man he dared not face. Before Sandy Bourke
his spirit flinched as a leaf shrinks and curls from flame. The forced
acknowledgment of it was an acid aggravation. He raked his horse's
flanks with his rowels and the spirited brute, pick of all Plimsoll's
horse herd, tore up the hillside to suit the mad humor of his master,
who was permeated with the venom of a man who knows his deeds at once
evil and futile, a venom that was bound to spread until the infection
mastered him, body and mind and soul, steeped them in a devil's brew
that permitted of no other thought but what was dominated by the mad
desire to get even.

Some one caught sight of the galloping horse and rider lunging along in
a cloud of dust that showed golden as the sun rose and looked over the
mesa. He raised a shou