e Leroy had not foreseen. When
York went, sleepy-eyed, to the corral to saddle the ponies, he found the
bars into the pasture let clown, and the whole remunda kicking up its
heels in a paddock large as a goodsized city. The result was that it
took two hours to run up the bunch of ponies and another half-hour to
cut out, rope, and saddle the three that were wanted. Throughout the
process Reilly sat on the fence and scowled.

Leroy, making an end of slapping on and cinching the last saddle,
wheeled suddenly on the Irishman. "What's the matter, Reilly?"

"Was I saying anything was the matter?"

"You've been looking it right hard. Ain't you man enough to say it
instead of playing dirty little three-for-a-cent tricks--like letting
down the corral-bars?"

Reilly flung a look at Neil that plainly demanded support, and then
descended with truculent defiance from the fence.

"Who says I let down the bars? You bet I am man enough to say what I
think; and if ye think I ain't got the nerve--"

His master encouraged him with ironic derision. "That's right, Reilly.
Who's afraid? Cough it up and show York you're game."

"By thunder, I AM game. I've got a kick coming, sorr."

"Yes?" Leroy rolled and lit a cigarette, his black eyes fixed intently
on the malcontent. "Well, register it on the jump. I've got to be off."

"That's the point." The curly-headed Neil had lounged up to his
comrade's support. "Why have you got to be off? We don't savvy your
game, cap."

"Perhaps you would like to be major-domo of this outfit, Neil?" scoffed
his chief, eying him scornfully.

"No, sir. I ain't aimin' for no such thing. But we don't like the
way things are shaping. What does all this here funny business mean,
anyhow?" His thumb jerked toward Collins, already mounted and waiting
for Leroy to join him. "Two days ago this world wasn't big enough to
hold him and you. Well, I git the drop on him, and then you begin to
cotton up to him right away. Big dinner last night--champagne corks
popping, I hear. What I want to know is what it means. And here's this
Miss Mackenzie. She's good for a big ransom, but I don't see it ambling
our way. It looks darned funny."

"That's the ticket, York," derided Leroy. "Come again. Turn your wolf
loose."

"Oh! I ain't afraid to say what I think."

"I see you're not. You should try stump-speaking, my friend. There's a
field fox you there."

"I'm asking you a question, Mr. Leroy."

"That's whatever," chip