curved with a suggestion of a smile that was a
nervous habit rather than any sign of mirth. The nerves of the left
eye were also affected, and the lid dropped and fluttered almost shut,
so that he had to carry his head far back in order to see plainly.
There was such indomitable pride and scorn in the man that his name
came up to the lips of Pierre: "McGurk."

A surprisingly gentle voice said: "Jim, I'm sorry to drop in on you
this way, but I've had some unpleasant news."

His words dispelled part of the charm. The hands of big Boone lowered;
the others assumed more natural positions, but each, it seemed to
Pierre, took particular and almost ostentatious care that their right
hands should be always far from the holsters of their guns.

The stranger went on: "Martin Ryder is finished, as I suppose you know.
He left a spawn of two mongrels behind him. I haven't bothered with
them, but I'm a little more interested in another son that has cropped
up. He's sitting over there in your family party and his name is
Pierre. In his own country they call him Pierre le Rouge, which means
Red Pierre, in our talk.

"You know I don't like to be dictatorial, and I've never crossed you in
anything before, Jim. Have I?"

Boone moistened his white lips and answered: "Never," huskily, as if it
were a great muscular effort for him to speak.

"This time I have to break the custom. Boone, this fellow Pierre has
to leave the country. Will you see that he goes?"

The lips of Boone moved and made no sound.

He said at length: "McGurk, I'd rather cross the devil than cross you.
There's no shame in admitting that. But I've lost my boy, Hal."

"Too bad, Jim. I knew Hal; at a distance, of course."

"And Pierre is filling Hal's place in the family."

"Is that your answer?"

"McGurk, are you going to pin me down in this?"

And here Jack whirled and cried: "Dad, you won't let Pierre go!"

"You see?" pleaded Boone.

It was uncanny and horrible to see the giant so unnerved before this
stranger, but that part of it did not come to Pierre until later. Now
he felt a peculiar emptiness of stomach and a certain jumping chill
that traveled up and down his spine. Moreover, he could not move his
eyes from the face of McGurk, and he knew at length that this was
fear--the first real fear that he had ever known.

Shame made him hot, but fear made him cold again. He knew that if he
rose his knees would buckle under him; that if he drew