"No, I did not." With a twig Bat pushed down the tobacco in his pipe.
"I stayed up here, if you want to know, because we were on our way to
the cow camp when the parson and his kid joined us. I guess every man
has his limit. That cow-camp gang is mine. I want to live a little
longer; and I don't want to know things that might make it useful for
me to die. When Moyese wants to deal with that gang, he can go it
alone."

"Brydges," said Wayland, "you have given me some frank advice. _I'm_
going to reciprocate. You know what is going on out here. You know
why that Arizona gang comes up here. You know why we can't touch
them--they are off the Range of the Forest. You know about the stolen
coal for the Smelter Ring, thousands of acres of it; and the stolen
timber limits for the Lumber Ring, millions of acres of them. If the
public knew, Bat, we'd win our fight. It would be a walk over. Every
man jack of them would lie down, and stay put. Why don't you tell in
your paper? Why don't you tell the truth when you send the dispatches
East? If you did, Bat, we could clean out the gang in a month. Why
don't you play the game a man should play? Every newspaper man likes a
clean sporty fight; and no knifing in the back. Why don't you put up
that fight for us, now, Brydges, and stop giving us side jabs?"

Brydges' pipe fell from his teeth.

"Wayland--what in hell--do you think--I'm working for?"


There was a big silence.

The look of masterdom came back to Wayland's face; but he paused,