nded. "Lemme think. No, I guess not. I never used
that name that I remember of. No, partner, my name ain't Dunne."

"We want Dunne. Where'll we find him?"

"Why, now," said McHale, "that's a right hard question. You might find
him one place, and then again you mightn't. I reckon I wouldn't be
misleading you none if I was to tell you you'd find him wherever he's
at."

"You workin' for him?" the dark man put in quickly.

"I was, a minute ago. Now I got a job with an inquiry office. Anything
else I can tell you?"

"No," said the dark man. "But you can tell Dunne that up to a minute
ago he had a ---- ---- fool workin' for him!"

Dead silence while a watch could tick off ten seconds. Clyde scarcely
breathed. At different times in her life she had heard noisy quarrels
in city streets, quarrels big with oath and threat. This was different.
She experienced a sensation as though, even in the bright sunshine
beneath the blue, unflecked summer sky where all was instinct with
growth and health and life, she were watching a deathbed.

The two strangers sat motionless, their eyes on McHale, their right
hands resting quietly by their waists. McHale stood equally still,
facing them, his eyes narrowed down to slits, his left hand holding the
lapel of his coat, his right hand, a half-smoked cigarette between the
first and second fingers, on a level with his chin. He expelled a thin
stream of smoke from his lungs, and spoke:

"I reckon you can tell him yourself. Here he come now."

The eyes of the first man never shifted. The other instantly looked
over his shoulder. McHale laughed.

"You're an old-timer," he said to the gray-eyed man; "but him"--he
jerked a contemptuous thumb at the second--"it's a wonder to me he ever
growed up. Don't you do it no more, friend. Don't you never take your
eyes off a man you've called a ---- ---- fool, or maybe the next thing
they beholds is the Promised Land!"

But his words had not been intended as a ruse. Casey was riding over on
his little gray mare to see who the strangers were, and what they
wanted.

"This man tells me you're Dunne," said the gray-eyed man.

"That's correct," Casey admitted.

"My name is Dade; his name is Cross." He indicated his companion by a
sidewise nod. "We've bought land from this here irrigation outfit. So
have half a dozen other men, friends of ours. Now we can't get water."

"Well?"

"Well, the company puts it up that some of you fellows is to blame.
You