“Let up!” broke out Jordan at last, pounding on the table with his fist.  “Your damn tunes are gettin’ my goat.  Nobody can think while you’re hittin’ it up like that.  This ain’t no prayer meetin’, Bill.”

For answer Kilduff removed the mouth-organ to take a deep breath, blinked his small eyes, and began again in a still higher key.

“Go slow, Terry,” advised Rhinehart in a soft tone.  “Kilduff ain’t feelin’ none too well tonight.”

“What’s the matter with him?” growled the scar-faced man, none too anxious to start an open quarrel with the formidable Kilduff.

Rhinehart jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“The gal in there.  He don’t like the game the chief has been workin’ with her.”

“Neither do I,” said Purvis, “but I’d do worse than the chief done to get Lee Haines back.”

“Get Haines back?” said Kilduff, his voice ominously deep.  “There ain’t no chance of that.  If there was I wouldn’t have no kick against the chief for what he’s done to Kate.”

“Maybe there’s some chance,” suggested Rhinehart.

“Chance, hell!” cried Kilduff.  “One man agin a whole town full?  I say all that Jim has done is to get Whistlin’ Dan plugged full of lead.”

“Well,” said Purvis, “if that’s done, ain’t the game worth while?”

The rest of the men chuckled and even Kilduff smiled.

“Old Joe Cumberland is sure takin’ it hard,” said “Calamity” Rhinehart.  “All day he’s been lightin’ into the girl.”

“The funny part,” mused Purvis, “is that the old boy really means it.  I think he’d of sawed off his right hand to keep her from goin’ to Whistlin’ Dan.”

“An’ her sittin’ white-faced an’ starin’ at nothin’ an’ tryin’ to comfort him!” rumbled Kilduff, standing up under the stress of his unwonted emotion.  “My God, she was apologizin’ for what she done, an’ tryin’ to cheer him up, an’ all the time her heart was bustin’.”

He pulled out a violently coloured bandana and wiped his forehead.

“When we all get down to hell,” he said, “they’ll be quite a little talkin’ done about this play of Jim’s—­you c’n lay to that.”

“Who’s that singin’ down the canyon?” asked Jordan.  “It sounds like—­”

He would not finish his sentence as if he feared to prove a false prophet.  They rose as one man and stared stupidly at one another.

“Haines!” broke out Rhinehart at last.

“It ain’t no ways possible!” said Kilduff.  “And yet—­by God, it is!”

They rushed for the door and made out two figures approaching, one on horseback, and the other on foot.

“Haines!” called Purvis, his shrill voice rising to a squeak with his excitement.

“Here I am!” rang back the mellow tones of the big lone rider, and in a moment he and Jim Silent entered the room.

Glad faces surrounded him.  There was infinite wringing of his hand and much pounding on the back.  Kilduff and Rhinehart pushed him back into a chair.  Jordan ran for a flask of whisky, but Haines pushed the bottle away.