Why," he said, "maybe you c'n explain it to me. Seems to me that all
these guns is wore so high they's more for ornament than use."

"You damned pup--" began Sandy.

He stopped short and stared with a peculiar fascination at Dan, who
started to speak again. His voice had changed--not greatly, for its
pitch was the same and the drawl was the same--but there was a purr
in it that made every man stiffen in his chair and make sure that his
right hand was free. The ghost of his former smile was still on his
lips, but it was his eyes that seemed to fascinate Sandy.

"Maybe I'm wrong, partner," he was saying, "an' maybe you c'n prove
that _your_ gun ain't jest ornamental hardware?"

What followed was very strange. Sandy was a brave man and everyone at
that table knew it. They waited for the inevitable to happen. They
waited for Sandy's lightning move for his gun. They waited for the
flash and the crack of the revolver. It did not come. There followed a
still more stunning wonder.

"You c'n see," went on that caressing voice of Dan, "that everyone
is waitin' for you to demonstrate--which the lady is most special
interested."

And still Sandy did not move that significant right hand. It remained
fixed in air a few inches above the table, the fingers stiffly spread.
He moistened his white lips. Then--most strange of all!--his eyes
shifted and wandered away from the face of Whistling Dan. The others
exchanged incredulous glances. The impossible had happened--Sandy had
taken water! The sheriff was the first to recover, though his forehead
was shining with perspiration.

"What's all this stuff about?" he called. "Hey, Sandy, quit pickin'
trouble with the stranger!"

Sandy seized the loophole through which to escape with his honour. He
settled back in his chair.

"All right, gov'nor," he said, "I won't go spoilin' your furniture. I
won't hurt him."

CHAPTER XX

ONE TRAIL ENDS

But this deceived no one. They had seen him palpably take water. A
moment of silence followed, while Sandy stared whitefaced down at the
table, avoiding all eyes; but all the elements of good breeding exist
under all the roughness of the West. It was Jacqueline who began with
a joke which was rather old, but everyone appreciated it--at that
moment--and the laughter lasted long enough to restore some of the
colour to Sandy's face. A general rapid fire of talk followed.

"How did you do it?" queried Calder. "I was all prepared for a
gun-