Shoop laughed.

"Well, she's full--six aces," said Fadeaway, touching his holster
significantly.

"And Jack throws the fastest gun on the Concho," said Shoop, his genial
smile gone; his face flushed. "I been your friend, if I do say it,
Fade. But don't you go away with any little ole idea that I ain't
workin' for Jack Corliss."

"What's that to me? I'm fired, ain't I?"

"Correct. Only I was thinkin' your cayuse is all in. You couldn't get
out of sight on him tonight. But you can take one of my string and
send it back when you get ready."

"Oh, I ain't sweatin' to hit the trail," said Fadeaway, for the benefit
of his audience.

"All right, Fade. But the boss is. It's up to you."

After he had eaten, Fadeaway rolled his few belongings in his slicker
and tied it to the saddle. He was not afraid of Corliss, but like men
of his stamp he wanted Corliss to know that he was not alone unafraid,
but willing to be aggressive. He mounted and rode up to the
ranch-house. Corliss, who had seen him approach through the window,
sat at his desk, waiting for the cow-boy to dismount and come in. But
Fadeaway sat his horse, determined to make the rancher come outside.

Corliss understood, and pushing back his chair, strode to the doorway.
"Want to see me?" he asked.

Fadeaway noticed that Corliss was unarmed, and he twisted the
circumstance to suit a false interpretation of the fact. "Playin'
safe!" he sneered.

Corliss flushed and the veins swelled on his neck, but he kept silent.
He looked the cowboy in the eye and was met by a gaze as steady as his
own; an aggressive and insolent gaze that had for its backing sheer
physical courage and nothing more. It became a battle of mental
endurance and Corliss eventually won.

After the lapse of several seconds, the cowboy spoke to his horse.
"Come on, Doc! The son-of-a----- is loco."

Corliss heard, but held his peace. He stood watching the cowboy until
the latter was out on the road. He noticed that he took the northern
branch, toward Antelope. Then the rancher entered the house, picked up
his hat, buckled on his gun, and hastened to the corral. He saddled
Chinook and took the trail to the Loring rancho.

He rode slowly, trying to arrive at the best method of presenting his
side of the sheep-killing to Loring. He hoped that Eleanor Loring
would not be present during the interview with her father. He was
disappointed, for she came from the wide veranda as h