Buck Daniels winced, but he then shook his head doggedly.

"He had his chance down in Brownsville," he said. "And he didn't take
it. Why? Because my back was turned? Well, he could of got in front of
me if he'd been terrible anxious. I've seen Dan in action; he's seen
_me_ in action! Maybe he's seen too much. They've been stranger things
than that, in this world!" He hitched his belt so that the butt of his
revolver came farther forward. But now Kate Cumberland advised: "Buck,
you're tired out; you don't know what you're saying. Better go up to
bed."

He flushed a ruddy bronze.

"D'you think I'm jest talkin' words, Kate, to hear myself talk?"

"Listen!" broke in Joe Cumberland, and raised a bony forefinger for
silence.

* * * * *

And the doctor noted a great change in the old man. There was no longer
a tremor in his body. There was only a calm and smiling expectation--a
certainty. A tinge of colour was in his withered face for the first time
since Byrne had come to the ranch, and now the cattleman raised his
finger with such an air of calm authority that at once every voice in
the room was stilled.

"D'ye hear?"