ven the talk would give you chills. That's the
way it is with Pierre and McGurk. When they meet there's going to be a
fight that'll stop the hearts of the people that have to look on."

Mary smiled to cover her excitement.

"But are they coming your way?"

The question seemed to infuriate young Jack, who cried: "Ain't that a
fool way of talkin'? Lady, they're coming every one's way. You never
know where they'll start from or where they'll land. If there's a
thunder-cloud all over the sky, do you know where the lightning's going
to strike?"

"Excuse me,", said Mary, but she was still eager with curiosity, "but I
should think that a youngster like you wouldn't have anything to fear
from even those desperadoes."

"Youngster, eh?" snarled the boy, whose wrath seemed Implacable. "I can
make my draw and start my gun as fast as any man--except them two,
maybe"--he lowered his voice somewhat even to name them--"Pierre--McGurk!"

"It seems hopeless to find out anything about McGurk," said Mary, "but at
least you can tell me safely about Red Pierre."

"Interested in him, eh?" said the boy dryly.

"Well, he's a rather romantic figure, don't you think?"

"Romantic? Lady, about a month ago I was talking with a lady that was a
widow because of Red Pierre. She didn't think him none too romantic."

"Red Pierre had killed the woman's husband?" repeated Mary, with pale
lips.

"Yep. He was one of the gang that took a chance with Pierre and got
bumped off. Had three bullets in him and dropped without getting his gun
out of the leather. Pierre sure does a nice, artistic job. He serves
you a murder with all the trimmings. If I wanted to die nice and polite
without making a mess, I don't know who I'd rather go to than Red Pierre."

"A murderer!" mused Mary, with bowed head.

The boy opened his lips to speak, but changed his mind and sat regarding
the girl with a somewhat sinister smile.

"But might it not be," said Mary, "that he killed one man in self-defense
and then his destiny drove him, and bad luck forced him into one bad
position after another? There have been histories as strange as that,
you know."

Jack laughed again, but most of the music was gone from the sound, and it
was simply a low, ominous purr.

"Sure," he said. "You can take a bear-cub and keep him tame till he gets
the taste of blood, but after that you got to keep him muzzled, you know.
Pierre needs a muzzle, but there ain't enough gun-fi