o stood before him, working
himself into a new frenzy. There seemed to be no other way.

But Haydon seemed to have control of himself, now, despite the frenzied
glare of his eyes. He was outwardly cool; his movements were
deliberate--he had conquered his fear of Harlan, it seemed.

He laughed, harshly.

"Harlan," he said; "you had me going--talking that way. By Heaven! you
almost convinced me that I'd _let_ you run things here. I was beginning
to believe I'd lost my nerve. But see here!"

He held out his right hand toward Harlan--it was steady, rigid, not a
nerve in it quivered.

"You're fast with your guns, but you can't run any whizzer in on me--you
can't intimidate me. You killed Latimer the other day; and you've got the
boys with you. But you can't run things here. Have all the boys gone?"

"Woodward's here."

Harlan spoke lowly; his eyes were keenly watchful. This flare-up on
Haydon's part was merely a phase of his confused mental condition. He saw
that Haydon did not mean to use his gun--that he intended to ignore it,
no doubt planning to regain his authority when the men of the outfit
returned--when he might enlist the support of some of them.

"Woodward's here--eh?" laughed Haydon. He raised his voice, shouting for
the man. And Harlan saw Woodward come from behind an outbuilding, look
toward the ranchhouse, and then walk slowly toward them.

Woodward halted when within several paces of the two, and looked from one
to the other curiously, his eyes narrowed with speculation.

"Woodward," directed Haydon; "hit the breeze after the outfit and tell
them to drive those cattle back here!"

Harlan grinned. "Woodward," he said, gently; "you climb on your cayuse
an' do as Haydon tells you. Haydon is figurin' on cashin' in when you
do."

Haydon blustered. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if Woodward goes after the boys I'm goin' to blow you apart.
I'm givin' the orders around here!"

Watching Haydon, Harlan saw that he was not exhibiting rage, but intense
interest. He was not looking at Harlan, but at Woodward. And, turning
swiftly, his guns both leaping into his hands with the movement--for he
had a swift suspicion that Woodward might be standing with Haydon against
him--he saw that Woodward had fallen into a crouch; that the man's right
hand was hovering over his pistol holster, and that his eyes were
gleaming with a light that could mean only the one thing--murder.

Backing slowly away from both Haydo