e speaking to the men, while
watching him, only.

"Woodward was killed, too. His real name was Bill Morgan. He was Lane
Morgan's son. Bill Morgan was sent here by the governor, to get evidence
against Haydon. He got it. I took it from his pockets when I planted
him--an' it's goin' straight to the governor.

"You guys are through here--" again he seemed to speak to all the men.
"Morgan told me he had some men with the Cache gang. They're to ride out
an' join my boys--the T Down outfit."

Deveny was conscious that several men detached themselves from the group
of riders he had brought with him, and rode to where the T Down men were
standing. Then Harlan spoke again:

"Now, she shapes up like this. If there's any of the Star gang wantin' to
go straight, they can throw in with the T Down boys, too. If there's some
that figure on pullin' their freight out of the valley--an' stayin'
out--they can hit the breeze right now--drivin' that Star herd to
Willow's Wells, sellin' them, an' dividin' the money. Whoever is takin'
up that proposition is startin' right now!"

About half the Star men began to move; heading up the valley. There was a
momentary pause, and then those that were left of Deveny's men moved
uneasily.

"Does that go for us guys too?"

"It's wide open," announced Harlan, cold humor seeming to creep into his
voice. "It's your chance to get out of this deal without gettin' what's
comin' to you."

There was a rush and clatter as Deveny's men joined the men of the Star,
who were already on the move. And then there followed a long silence,
during which Deveny glanced up the valley and saw the men riding away.

He turned again, to face Harlan, with the consciousness that he stood
alone. The T Down men, half of the Star men, and a large proportion of
the Cache men were standing with Harlan. Deveny saw Colver and Rogers
among those who had aligned themselves with Harlan.

No invitation to withdraw had been extended to Deveny. The knowledge
strengthened his conviction that Harlan intended to kill him. And yet,
now, facing Harlan, he knew that he would never take up the slender
thread of chance that was offered him--to draw his gun, kill Harlan and
resume his authority over the men who were left.

The possibility, dangling at the other end of the slender thread of
chance, did not allure him. For he knew he could not draw the pistol at
his hip with Harlan's gaze upon him--that would be suicide.

"Deveny!"

Har