*

Of Plimsoll little was heard. The gambler had deserted that now
unpopular profession, since suffrage ruled, and stayed close to his
horse ranch. It lay alone, and few visited it save Plimsoll's own
associates. Rumors drifted concerning Plimsoll's remarkable herd
increase of saleable horses but, unless proof of actual operation was
forthcoming, there was small chance of pinning anything down in the way
of illegal work. There was always the excuse of having rounded up a
bunch of broom-tail wild horses to account for growing numbers, and, if
he stole or not, Plimsoll left the horses of his own county alone. No
neighbor was injured and though stories of wild happenings at the horse
ranch were current it was considered nobody's business. Wyatt once,
staggering out of some blind pig in Hereford, still existent despite the
suffrage sweeping, babbled in maudlin drunkenness of his determination
to get even with Plimsoll for stealing his sweetheart. For Wyatt, for
the sake of the girl, had gone back to Plimsoll's employ. The new
sheriff took Wyatt's guns away and locked him up overnight in the
"cooler," letting him go in the morning, soberer and more silent.

"But," said the sheriff to his cronies, "some day there'll be one grand
shoot-up an' carry-out at Plimsoll's. Wyatt's sore clean through."

"He ain't got the sand in his craw to make a killing," said one of the
listeners. "Sandy Bourke backed him off the map to Casey Town."

"Just the same, he's got something in his craw," replied the sheriff.
"He may not shoot Plimsoll, but he's primed to pull something off first
chance he gets. I spoke to him about what he's been firing off from his
mouth the night before an' he shuts up like a clam. 'I was foolish
drunk,' he says, but there was a look in his eyes that was nasty. If
Plim's wise he'll get rid of Wyatt. He knows too much an' he's liable to
tip it off."

"Wyatt an' Plim's both of 'em side-swipers," returned the other. "They'd
throw dirt but not lead. Plumb yeller as a Gila monster's belly.
Plimsoll told it all over the county he'd tally score with Sandy Bourke.
Has he? He ain't even bought him a stick of chalk."

"He ain't had the chance he's lookin' for. That's all that's holding
Plimsoll. Same way with Wyatt. Two buzzards of a feather, they are."

Thoughts of Plimsoll and his revenges did not bother Sandy's head. The
"old man" of the Three Star--bearing the cowman's inevitable title for
the head of the managem