thieves that ever operated the
range, he had prospered.

A year and a week had elapsed since the countryside turned out to help
Wolf River celebrate the opening of her bank. At that celebration the
Texan had openly insulted him before the eyes of all cow-land. And,
before the eyes of all cow-land he, a reputed gunman, hesitated with his
hand on his gun, and every man and woman who waited in breathless
expectancy for him to shoot, knew that he was afraid to shoot--knew that
he was a coward. Only the pilgrim's girl did not know. She thought he
had done a brave thing to ignore the insult, and that night she rode
with him, and upon the rim of the bench, as they paused to look down
upon the twinkling lights of the little town Purdy committed the
unpardonable sin of the cattle country. He attacked her--dragged her
from her horse. And then the pilgrim came. Purdy heard the sound of the
furious hoof-beats, and grinned evilly as he watched the man dismount
clumsily when he came upon the two horses grazing with empty saddles.
When the pilgrim was almost upon him he flung the girl to the ground and
drew his gun. There was a blinding flash--and Purdy knew no more until,
hours afterward Sheriff Sam Moore and two of three sworn deputies were
loading his "corpse" into a spring wagon. Then he sat up suddenly and
Sam Moore and his deputies fled gibbering into the dark, while Purdy
drove the team back to Wolf River. Swaggering into the dance hall, he
found that the news of his demise at the hand of the pilgrim had
preceded him--found, also, a marked lack of enthusiasm over his escape
from death. Some countenances registered open disappointment, and the
men whom he invited to drink, evinced a sudden absence of thirst. He
sought to dance, but the women who occupied the chairs along the walls
invented excuses, reasonable or preposterous according to the fertility
of their imagination. So Purdy, a sullen rage in his heart, returned to
the bar and drank alone. As he called for the third drink, the bartender
eyed him truculently: "Just spread a little change, Purdy. Yer owin' fer
two, now."

The sullen rage flared into swift anger and the cowpuncher's hand
dropped to his gun: "What the hell's loose with you? What's the matter
with everyone here? Ain't I good fer the drinks?"

The bartender stared straight into the blazing eyes: "You ain't good fer
nothin' in Wolf River. After Tex showin' you up this afternoon but
'special what happened late