To his companion’s sneering remark Lanpher made no intelligible reply.  He merely grunted as he reached for the gate to pull it shut.  His companion half turned (his back had from the first been toward Racey Dawson), and Racey perceived the cold and Roman profile of a long-jawed head.  Then the man turned full in his direction and behold, the hard features vanished, and the man displayed a good-looking countenance of singular charm.  The chin was a thought too wide and heavy, a trait it shared in common with the mouth, but otherwise the stranger’s full face would have found favour in the eyes of almost any woman, however critical.

Racey Dawson, at first minded to reveal his presence in the corral, thought better of it almost immediately.  While not by habit an eavesdropper he felt no shame in fortuitously overhearing anything Lanpher or the stranger might be moved to say.  Lanpher merited no consideration under any circumstances, and the stranger, in appearance a similar breed of dog as far as morals went, certainly deserved no better treatment.  So Racey remained quietly where he was, and was glad that besides the pony to whom he was ministering there were several others between him and the men at the gate.

“Why don’t you wanna appear in this business?” persisted the stranger, pivoting on one heel in order to keep face to face with Lanpher.

“I gotta live here,” was the Lanpher reply.

“Well, ain’t I gotta live here, too, and I don’t see anything round here to worry me.  S’pose old Chin Whisker does go on the prod.  What can he do?”

“’Tsall right,” mumbled Lanpher, shutting the gate and shoving home the bar.  “You don’t know this country as well as I do.  I got trouble enough running the 88 without borrowing any more.”

“Now I told you I was gonna get his li’l ranch peaceable if I could.  I got it all planned out.  I don’t do anything rough unless I gotto.  But I’m gonna get old Chin Whisker out o’ there, and you can stick a pin in that.”

“’Tsall right.  ‘Tsall right.  You wanna remember ol’ Chin Whisker ain’t the only hoss yo’re trying to ride.  If you think that other outfit is gonna watch you pick daisies in their front yard without doing anything, you got another guess.  But I’ll do what I said—­and no more.”

“I s’pose you think that by sticking away off yonder where the grass is long nobody will suspicion you.  If you do, yo’re crazy.  Folks ain’t so cross-brained as all that.”

“Not so dam loud!” Lanpher cautioned, excitedly.

“Say, whatsa matter with you?” demanded the stranger, leaning back against the gate and spreading his long arms along the top bar.  “Which yo’re the most nervous gent I ever did see.  The hotel ain’t close enough for anybody to hear a word, and there’s only hosses in the corral.  Get a-hold of yoreself.  Don’t be so skittish.”

“I ain’t skittish.  I’m sensible.  I know—­” Lanpher broke off abruptly.