Dale--he ain't guilty. Mebbe I ought to have stuck in my gab before,
but I was figurin' that mebbe you wouldn't go to crowdin' him so close.
Ben didn't steal no steers; he run them into his corral by my orders."

Dale guffawed loudly and stepped back to sneer at Sanderson. But he
had noted the steadiness of the latter's eyes and the sneer faded.

"Bah!" he said. "Your orders! An' who in hell are you?"

"I'm Bill Bransford," said Sanderson quietly, and he grinned
mirthlessly at Dale over the two or three feet of space that separated
them.




CHAPTER V

WATER AND KISSES

For several seconds Dale did not speak. A crimson stain appeared above
the collar of his shirt and spread until it covered his face and neck,
leaving his cheeks poisonously bloated and his eyes glaring.

But the steady eyes and the cold, deliberate demeanor of Sanderson did
much to help Dale regain his self-control--which he did, while Mary
Bransford, running forward, tried to throw her arms around Sanderson's
neck. She was prevented from accomplishing this design by Sanderson
who, while facing Dale, shoved the girl away from him, almost roughly.