s possessed the brain.

He looked about to the others for his cue. What he saw disturbed him.
Shorty Kilrain, like a boy caught playing truant, edged little by little
back against the rock; Butch Conklin, his eyes staring, had grown waxy
pale; Steve Nash himself was sullen and gloomy rather than defiant.

And all this because of a grey man far past the prime of life who ran
stumbling, panting, toward them. At his nearer approach a flash of
understanding touched Ufert. Perhaps it was the sheer bulk of the
newcomer; perhaps, more than this, it was something of stern dignity
that oppressed the boy with awe. He fought against the feeling, but he
was uneasy; he wanted to be far away from that place.

Straight upon them the big grey man strode and halted in front of Nash.

He said, his voice harsh and broken by his running: "I ordered you to
bring him to me unharmed. What does this mean, Nash?"

The cowpuncher answered sulkily: "Glendin sent us out."

"Don't lie. You sent yourself and took these men. I've seen Glendin."

His wrath was tempered with a sneer.

"But here you are four against one. Go down and bring him out to me
alive!"

There was no answer.

"You said you wanted no odds against any one man."

"When a man and a woman stand together," answered Nash, "they're worse
than a hundred. That devil, Sally Fortune, is down there with him."

A gun cracked from the house; the bullet chipped the rock with an evil
clang, and the flake of stone whirled through the air and landed at the
feet of Drew.

"There's your answer," said Nash. "But we've got the rat cornered."

"Wrong again. Calamity Ben is going to live--"

A cry of joy came from Shorty Kilrain.

"Duffy says that he gave his horse away to Bard. Glendin has called back
your posse. Ride, Nash! Or else go down there unarmed and bring Bard up
to me."

The shadow of a smile crossed the lips of Nash.

"If the law's done with him, I'm not. I won't ride, and I won't go down
to him. I've got the upper hand and I'm going to hold it."

"If you're afraid to go down, I will."

Drew unbuckled his cartridge belt and tossed it with his gun against the
rocks. He drew out a white handkerchief, and holding it above him, at a
full arm's length, he stepped out from the shelter. The others,
gathering at their places of vantage, watched his progress toward the
house. Steve Nash described it to the wounded men, who had dragged
themselves half erect.

"He's walkin' rig