. Also I wish to see Logan again. I've got several little things
I'd like to have him explain."

"H-m!" grunted Nash without apparent interest.

"And Drew?"

"He's a big feller; big and grey."

"Ah-h-h," said the other, and drew in his breath, as though he were
drinking.

It seemed to Nash that he had never seen such an unpleasant smile.

"You'll get what you want out of Drew. He's generous."

"I hope so," nodded the other, with far-off eyes. "I've got a lot to ask
of him."

CHAPTER XVII

BUTCH RETURNS

He reminded Nash of some big puma cub warming itself at a hearth like a
common tabby cat, a tame puma thrusting out its claws and turning its
yellow eyes up to its owner--tame, but with infinite possibilities of
danger. For the information which Nash had given seemed to remove all
his distrust of the moment before and he became instantly genial,
pleasant. In fact, he voiced this sentiment with a disarming frankness
immediately.

"Perhaps I've seemed to be carrying a chip on my shoulder, Mr. Nash. You
see, I'm not long in the West, and the people I've met seem to be ready
to fight first and ask questions afterward. So I've caught the habit, I
suppose."

"Which a habit like that ain't uncommon. The graveyards are full of
fellers that had that habit and they're going to be fuller still of the
same kind."

Here Sally entered, carrying the meal of the cowpuncher, arranged it,
and then sat on the edge of Bard's table, turning from one to the other
as a bird on a spray of leaves turns from sunlight to shadow and cannot
make a choice.

"Bard," stated Nash, "is going out to the ranch with me to-night."

"Long ride for to-night, isn't it?"

"Yes, but we'll bunk on the way and finish up early in the morning."

"Then you'll have a chance to teach him Western manners on the way,
Steve."

"Manners?" queried the Easterner, smiling up to the girl.

She turned, caught him beneath the chin with one hand, tilting his face,
and raised the lessoning forefinger of the other while she stared down
at him with a half frown and a half smile like a schoolteacher about to
discipline a recalcitrant boy.

"Western manners," she said, "mean first not to doubt a man till he
tries to double-cross you, and not to trust him till he saves your life;
to keep your gun inside the leather till you're backed up against the
wall, and then to start shootin' as soon as the muzzle is past the
holster. Then the thing to remember i