d Jake.

"That's me," gruffly came the reply.

"I'm Anderson's foreman. I've been sent over to tell you thet you're
wanted pretty bad at 'Many Waters.'"

The man stared incredulously. "What?... Who wants me?"

"Anderson. An' I reckon there's more--though I ain't informed."

Neuman rumbled a curse. Amaze dominated him. "Anderson!... Well, I don't
want to see him," he replied.

"I reckon you don't," was the cowboy's cool reply.

The rancher looked him up and down. However familiar his type was to
Anderson, it was strange to Neuman. The cowboy breathed a potential
force. The least significant thing about his appearance was that
swinging gun. He seemed cool and easy, with hard, keen eyes. Neuman's
face took a shade off color.

"But I'm going to harvest to-day," he said. "I'm late. I've a hundred
hands coming."

"Nope. You haven't none comin'," asserted Jake.

"What!" ejaculated Neuman.

"Reckon it's near ten o'clock," said the cowboy. "We run over here
powerful fast."

"Yes, it's near ten," bellowed Neuman, on the verge of a rage.... "I
haven't harvest-hands coming!... What's this talk?"

"Wal, about nine-thirty I seen all your damned I.W.W.'s, except what was
shot an' hanged, loaded in a cattlecar an' started out of the country."

A blow could not have hit harder than the cowboy's biting speech.
Astonishment and fear shook Neuman before he recovered control of
himself.

"If it's true, what's that to me?" he bluffed, in hoarse accents.

"Neuman, I didn't come to answer questions," said the cowboy, curtly.
"My boss jest sent me fer you, an' if you bucked on comin', then I was
to say it was your only chance to avoid publicity an' bein' run out of
the country."

Neuman was livid of face now and shaking all over his huge frame.

"Anderson threatens me!" he shouted. "Anderson suspicions me!... _Gott
in Himmel_!... Me he always cheated! An' now he insults--"

"Say, it ain't healthy to talk like thet about my boss," interrupted
Jake, forcibly. "An' we're wastin' time. If you don't go with me we'll
be comin' back--the whole outfit of us!... Anderson means you're to face
his man!"

"What man?"

"Dorn. Young Dorn, son of old Chris Dorn of the Bend.... Dorn has some
things to tell you thet you won't want made public.... Anderson's givin'
you a square deal. If it wasn't fer thet I'd sling my gun on you!... Do
you git my hunch?"

The name of Dorn made a slack figure of the aggressive Neuman.

"All right--I