"If it was the old man coming back and listening," he said, after a
pause, "it can't he helped. He'll hear it soon enough, if he don't
suspect something already."

"Look yer, Brace," broke in Dunn hoarsely. "D--d if I understand you or
you me. That dog Low has got to answer to ME, not to the LAW! I'll take
my risk of killing him, on sight and on the square. I don't reckon to
handicap myself with a warrant, and I am not going to draw him out with
a lie. You hear me? That's me all the time!"

"Then you calkilate to go down thar," said Brace contemptuously, "yell
out for him and Nellie, and let him line you on a rest from the first
tree as if you were a grizzly."

There was a pause. "What's that you were saying just now about a
bearskin he sold?" asked Dunn slowly, as if reflecting.

"He exchanged a bearskin," replied Brace, "with a single hole right over
the heart. He's a dead shot, I tell you."

"D--n his shooting," said Dunn. "I'm not thinking of that. How long ago
did he bring in that bearskin?"

"About two weeks, I reckon. Why?"

"Nothing! Look yer, Brace, you mean well--thar's my hand. I'll go down
with you there, but not as the sheriff. I'm going there as Jim Dunn, and
you can come along as a white man, to see things fixed on the square.
Come!"