"Wait a minute, boys," warned Aldous coolly. "I've got something to say to
you--and Bill. Then eat me alive if you want to. Do you want to be square
enough to give me a word?"

Quade had settled back sickly on his stool. The others had stopped,
waiting. The quiet and insolently confident smile had not left Aldous'
lips.

"You'll feel better in a few minutes, Bill," he consoled. "A hard blow on
the jaw always makes you sick at the pit of the stomach. That dizziness
will pass away shortly. Meanwhile, I'm going to give you and your pals a
little verbal and visual demonstration of what you're up against, and warn
you to bait no traps for a certain young woman whom you've lately seen.
She's going on to Tête Jaune. And I know how your partner plays his game up
there. I'm not particularly anxious to butt into your affairs and the
business of this pretty bunch that's gathered about you, but I've come to
give you a friendly warning for all that. If this young woman is
embarrassed up at Tête Jaune you're going to settle with me."

Aldous had spoken without a tremor of excitement in his voice. Not one of
the men noticed his speaking lips, his slim hands, or his careless posture
as he leaned in the door. They were looking straight into his eyes,
strangely scintillating and deadly earnest. In such a man mere bulk did not
count.

"That much--for words," he went on. "Now I'm going to give you the visual
demonstration. I know your game, Bill. You're already planning what you're
going to do. You won't fight fair--because you never have. You've already
decided that some morning I'll turn up missing, or be dug out from under a