it. Bad characters. You understand?"

She could not understand why he should make a mystery of it; but then,
he was almost as strange as her father. His careful English and his
ragged clothes were typical of him inside and out.

"You have a gun there in your holster. Can you use it?"

"Yes."

"Try it."

It was a thirty-two, a woman's light weapon. She took it out and
balanced it in her hand.

"The blue rock down the hillside. Let me see you chip it."

Her hand went up, and without pausing to sight along the barrel, she
fired; fire flew from the rock, and there appeared a white, small scar.
Donnegan sighed with relief.

"If you squeezed the butt rather than pulled the trigger," he commented,
"you would have made a bull's-eye that time. Now, I don't mean that in
any likelihood you'll have to defend yourself. I simply want you to be
aware that there's plenty of trouble around The Corner."

"Yes," said the girl.

"You're not afraid?"