leads to a hole where you'll find men--a few, mebbe, like
yourself--some like me--an' gangs of no-good hoss-thieves,
rustlers, an' such. It's easy livin', Buck. I reckon, though,
that you'll not find it easy. You'll never mix in. You'll be a
lone wolf. I seen that right off. Wal, if a man can stand the
loneliness, an' if he's quick on the draw, mebbe lone-wolfin'
it is the best. Shore I don't know. But these fellers in here
will be suspicious of a man who goes it alone. If they get a
chance they'll kill you."

Stevens asked for water several times. He had forgotten or he
did not want the whisky. His voice grew perceptibly weaker.

"Be quiet," said Duane. "Talking uses up your strength."

"Aw, I'll talk till--I'm done," he replied, doggedly. "See
here, pard, you can gamble on what I'm tellin' you. An' it'll
be useful. From this camp we'll--you'll meet men right along.
An' none of them will be honest men. All the same, some are
better'n others. I've lived along the river fer twelve years.
There's three big gangs of outlaws. King Fisher--you know him,
I reckon, fer he's half the time livin' among respectable
folks. King is a pretty good feller. It'll do to tie up with
him ant his gang. Now, there's Cheseldine, who hangs out in the
Rim Rock way up the river. He's an outlaw chief. I never seen
him, though I stayed once right in his camp. Late years he's
got rich an' keeps back pretty well hid. But Bland--I knowed
Bland fer years. An' I haven't any use fer him. Bland has the
biggest gang. You ain't likely to miss strikin' his place
sometime or other. He's got a regular town, I might say. Shore