"Bucky, I didn't think you were quite a fool," he said. "You've got a
little decency in your hide, haven't you? A man might as well be in
jail as up here without a gun. I expect you to contribute one-- when
you go after the half-breed-- you or Walker. He'll do it if you won't.
Better go in with the others. I'll keep up the fire."

Bucky rose sullenly. He was still suspicious of Billy's hospitality,
but at the same time he could see the strength of Billy's argument and
the importance of the price he was asking. He joined Walker and
Conway. Fifteen minutes later Billy approached the tent and looked in.
The three men were in the deep sleep of exhaustion. Instantly Billy's
actions changed. He had thrown his pack outside the tent to make more
room, and he quickly slipped a spare blanket in with his provisions.
Then he entered the other tent, and a flush spread over his face, and
he felt his blood grow warmer.

"You may be a fool, Billy MacVeigh," he laughed, softly. "You may be a
fool, but we're going to do it!"

Gently he disentangled the long silken strands of golden brown from
the tent-pole. He wound the hair about his fingers, and it made a soft
and shining ring. It was all that he would ever possess of Isobel
Deane, and his breath came more quickly as he pressed it for a moment
to his rough and storm-beaten face. He put it in his pocket, carefully
wrapped in Isobel's note, and then once more he went back to the tent
in which the three men were sleeping. They had not moved. Walker's
holster was within reach of his hand. For a moment the temptation to
reach out and pluck the gun from it was strong. He pulled himself
away. He would win in this fight with Bucky as surely as he had won in