for me, but you have lost your nerve and grown soft and flabby
with drink. It's your own doing; and now you have to take the
consequences. If you compel me, I'll drag you back to camp with the
pack lariat."

"Do you mean that?", Benson's face grew flushed and his eyes glittered.

"Try me and see."

Savage as he was, Benson realized that his companion was capable of
making good his promise. The man looked hard and very muscular, and
his expression was determined.

"This is insufferable!" he cried.

Blake coolly filled his pipe.

"There's no other remedy. Before I go to sleep, I'll picket the horses
close beside me; and if you steal away on foot during the night, I'll
ride you down a few hours after daybreak. I think you understand me.
There's nothing more to be said."

He tried to talk about other matters, but found it hard, for Benson,
tormented by his craving, made no response. Darkness wrapped them
about and the prairie was lost in shadow. The leaves in the bluff
rustled in a faint, cold wind, and the smoke of the fire drifted round
the men. For a while Benson sat moodily watching his companion, and
then, wrapping his blanket round him, he lay down and turned away his
head. Blake sat smoking for a while, and then strolled toward the
horses and chose a resting-place beside their pickets.

Waking in the cold of daybreak, he saw Benson asleep, and prepared
breakfast before he called him. They ate in silence, and then Blake
led up the pony.

"I think we'll make a start," he said, as cheerfully as he could.

For a moment or two Benson hesitated, standing with hands clenched and
baffled desire in his face; but Blake looked coolly resolute, and he
mounted.

CHAPTER IX

A SUSPICIOUS MOVE

When Benson and Blake rode into the camp, apparently on good terms with
each other, Harding made no reference to what had occurred. He greeted
them pleasantly, and soon afterward they sat down to the supper he had
been cooking. When they had finished, they gathered round the fire
with their pipes.

"A remark was made the other night which struck me as quite warranted,"
Benson said. "It was pointed out that I had contributed nothing to the
cost of this trip."

"It was very uncivil of Harding to mention it," Blake answered.
"Still, you see, circumstances rather forced him."

"Oh, I admit that; indeed, you might put it more harshly with truth.
But I want to suggest that you let me take a share in your v