ut some curious. So I asked him if he wouldn't light
and stay a while. He thought it over, and figured he would."

"Who is it?" asked Leroy.

"You go and see. I ain't giving away what your Christmas presents are. I
aim to let Santa surprise you a few."

Miss Mackenzie followed the outlaw chief into the house, and over his
shoulder glimpsed two men. One of them was the Irishman, Cork Reilly,
and he sat with a Winchester across his knees. The other had his back
toward them, but he turned as they entered, and nodded casually to
the outlaw. Helen's heart jumped to her throat when she saw it was Val
Collins.

The two men looked at each other steadily in a long silence. Wolf Leroy
was the first to speak.

"You damn fool!" The swarthy face creased to an evil smile of derision.

"I ce'tainly do seem to butt in considerable, Mr. Leroy," admitted
Collins, with an answering smile.

Leroy's square jaw set like a vise. "It won't happen again, Mr.
Sheriff."

"I'd hate to gamble on that heavy," returned Collins easily. Then
he caught sight of the girl's white face, and rose to his feet with
outstretched hand.

"Sit down," snapped out Reilly.

"Oh, that's all right I'm shaking hands with the lady. Did you think I
was inviting you to drill a hole in me, Mr. Reilly?"

CHAPTER 18. A DINNER FOR THREE

"I thought we bumped you off down at Epitaph," Leroy said.

"Along with Scott? Well, no. You see, I'm a regular cat to kill, Mr.
Leroy, and I couldn't conscientiously join the angels with so lame a
story as a game laig to explain my coming," said Collins cheerfully.

"In that case--"

"Yes, I understand. You'd be willing to accommodate with a hole in the
haid instead of one in the laig. But I'll not trouble you."

"What are you doing here? Didn't I warn you to attend to your own
business and leave me alone?"

"Seems to me you did load me up with some good advice, but I plumb
forgot to follow it."

The Wolf cursed under his breath. "You came here at your own risk,
then?"

"Well, I did and I didn't," corrected the sheriff easily. "I've got a
five-thousand policy in the Southeastern Life Insurance Company, so I
reckon it's some risk to them. And, by the way, it's a company I can
recommend."

"Does it insure against suicide?" asked Leroy, his masked, smiling face
veiling thinly a ruthless purpose.

"And against hanging. Let me strongly urge you to take out a policy at
once," came the prompt retort.

"You think i