ow and the foal, though he knew that would cut with a deeper
hurt every day. It was having to ask any kind of favor from this man. Not
that such a sale was a favor; Rennie ought to be glad to get such blood
for the Range.

"You ain't goin' to do that!" Anse was stung into angry protest.

But Drew was unaware of the Texan's outburst, his entire attention for
Hunt Rennie. The tall man came over to the table, moved one of the
candelabra forward as if to throw more light on Drew.

"That your choice of solutions, boy--to run?"

Drew flushed. The unfairness of that jab pushed him off balance. What
_did_ this man want of him anyway? Rennie had said it plain that he did
not want Drew and Anse on the Range.

"Running never settled anything." Rennie's fingers traced the spread of
the candelabra's arms. "Neither does jumping to conclusions. Has anyone
said you were through here, unless by your own choice?"

Drew was jarred into an answer. "You said----"

Rennie sighed. "Do any of you young fire-eaters ever listen to more than
one tenth of what any of your elders say? I _am_ saying and making it
plain: If you make a steady practice of trading punches with a trooper or
with any one else because you take a dislike to his face, the way his ears
stick out, how he walks or talks, or what color coat he wore in the war,
then you can roll your beds and ride out--the sooner the better.

"Reese Topham tells me that he explained the local situation to you, and
you appeared to understand it then. Any difficulty with the army could
have serious consequences, not just for you, but for the Range as well.
This time you were not the aggressors. But after being forewarned, if it
happens again, I'll be hard to convince that you were in the right. The
war's over--keep on remembering that. This is new country where it doesn't,
or shouldn't, matter whether a man wore a blue coat or marched under the
Stars and Bars. You're far too young to let the past cut off the future.
Wars can finish a whole way of life for a man...." His eyes no longer held
Drew's; he was looking beyond toward the half-open door or perhaps at
something that he alone could see. "You have to learn to throw away broken
things, not cherish them. Never look back!" That dry, tired voice took on
a fierce intensity. Then he was back with them again.

"Two Kirbys riding for the same spread is going to be rather confusing.
You are Drew, and you are Anson--Anson--" He repeated the name