ltering
his brooding, fixed mind.

"Wal," said Blaisdell, gruffly, "let's get down to business.... I'm for
havin' Blue be foreman of this heah outfit, an' all of us to do as he
says."

Gaston Isbel opposed this selection and indeed resented it. He intended
to lead the Isbel faction.

"All right, then. Give us a hunch what we're goin' to do," replied
Blaisdell.

"We're goin' to ride off on Jorth's trail--an' one way or another--kill
him--KILL HIM! ... I reckon that'll end the fight."

What did old Isbel have in his mind? His listeners shook their heads.

"No," asserted Blaisdell. "Killin' Jorth might be the end of your
desires, Isbel, but it 'd never end our fight. We'll have gone too
far.... If we take Jorth's trail from heah it means we've got to wipe
out that rustier gang, or stay to the last man."

"Yes, by God!" exclaimed Fredericks.

"Let's drink to thet!" said Blue. Strangely they turned to this Texas
gunman, instinctively recognizing in him the brain and heart, and the
past deeds, that fitted him for the leadership of such a clan. Blue
had all in life to lose, and nothing to gain. Yet his spirit was such
that he could not lean to all the possible gain of the future, and
leave a debt unpaid. Then his voice, his look, his influence were
those of a fighter. They all drank with him, even Jean, who hated
liquor. And this act of drinking seemed the climax of the council.
Preparations were at once begun for their departure on Jorth's trail.

Jean took but little time for his own needs. A horse, a blanket, a
knapsack of meat and bread, a canteen, and his weapons, with all the
ammunition he could pack, made up his outfit. He wore his buckskin
suit, leggings, and moccasins. Very soon the cavalcade was ready to
depart. Jean tried not to watch Bill Isbel say good-by to his
children, but it was impossible not to. Whatever Bill was, as a man,
he was father of those children, and he loved them. How strange that
the little ones seemed to realize the meaning of this good-by? They
were grave, somber-eyed, pale up to the last moment, then they broke
down and wept. Did they sense that their father would never come back?
Jean caught that dark, fatalistic presentiment. Bill Isbel's convulsed
face showed that he also caught it. Jean did not see Bill say good-by
to his wife. But he heard her. Old Gaston Isbel forgot to speak to
the children, or else could not. He never looked at them. And his
good-by