ched them until the door had shut behind them.

His horse stood between him and Woods. He tickled the animal in the
flank; it spun about, pulling back, plunging, drawing Woods's eyes.
And the next thing which Woods clearly understood was that Steve
Packard was upon him, that one of Packard's hands was at his throat,
that the other had gone for the gun on Woods's hip and had gotten it.

"Back into your shack!" commanded Packard, jabbing the muzzle of
Woods's big automatic hard into Woods's ribs. "Quick!"

To himself just now Steve had said: "One man against the crowd of them,
he could do nothing!" Just exactly what Woods would be thinking; what
Blenham inside would be thinking; just exactly what the rest of the men
thought since they turned their backs on him and forgot him in their
sport of badgering the cook.

What he was doing now was what he would term, did he hear of another
man attempting it, "A fool thing to do!" And yet he had told himself
many a time that a man stood a fair chance to get away with the
unexpected if he hit quick and hard and kept his wits about him.

Woods, taken thoroughly aback, allowed himself to be driven again into
his cabin. Packard followed and closed the door. Within was Blenham,
lying on Woods's bunk, his head still swathed, a half-empty whiskey
bottle on the floor at his side. With one watery eye he looked from
one to the other of the two men bursting in on him.

"Blenham," cried Packard, standing over him while he was careful not to
lose sight of Joe Woods's working face, "I want work stopped here and
this crowd of men off the ranch. You heard what I said outside, didn't
you?"

Blenham answered heavily:

"Woods, don't you pay no attention to what this man says. You keep
your men on the job. An' if you got another drop of whiskey----"

"The bottle's where you put it," retorted Woods. "Under your pillow."

Blenham rolled on his side, slipping his hand under his pillow. All
the time his one red eye shone evilly on Steve, who, his wits about
him, stepped back into the corner whence he might at the same time
watch Woods and that hand of Blenham's which was making its stupid
little play of seeking a bottle.

"Take it out by the neck, Blenham," said Steve sternly. "Take it out
by the neck and pass it to me, butt end first! _Sabe_? I'm guessing
the kind of drink you'd like to set up."

Blenham's one eye and Steve's two clashed; Woods watched interestedly.
He even l