“How did you do it?” queried Calder.  “I was all prepared for a gun-play.”

“Why, you seen I didn’t do nothin’.”

“Then what in the world made Sandy freeze while his hand was on the way to his gun?”

“I dunno,” sighed Dan, “but when I see his hand start movin’ I sort of wanted his blood—­I wanted him to keep right on till he got hold of his gun—­and maybe he seen it in my eyes an’ that sort of changed his mind.”

“I haven’t the least doubt that it did,” said Calder grimly.

At the foot of the table Jacqueline’s right-hand neighbour was saying:  “What happened, Jac?”

“Don’t ask me,” she replied.  “All I know is that I don’t think any less of Sandy because he backed down.  I saw that stranger’s face myself an’ I’m still sort of weak inside.”

“How did he look?”

“I dunno.  Jest—­jest hungry.  Understand?”

She was silent for a time, but she was evidently thinking hard.  At last she turned to the same man.

“Did you hear Brown-eyes say that the broad-shouldered feller next to him was his friend?”

“Sure.  I seen them ride in together.  That other one looks like a hard nut, eh?”

She returned no answer, but after a time her eyes raised slowly and rested for a long moment on Dan’s face.  It was towards the end of the meal when she rose and went towards the kitchen.  At the door she turned, and Dan, though he was looking down at his plate, was conscious that someone was observing him.  He glanced up and the moment his eyes met hers she made a significant backward gesture with her hand.  He hesitated a moment and then shoved back his chair.  Calder was busy talking to a table mate, so he walked out of the house without speaking to his companion.  He went to the rear of the house and as he had expected she was waiting for him.

“Brown-eyes,” she said swiftly, “that feller who sat beside you—­is he your partner?”

“I dunno,” said Dan evasively, “why are you askin’?”

Her breath was coming audibly as if from excitement.

“Have you got a fast hoss?”

“There ain’t no faster.”

“Believe me, he can’t go none too fast with you tonight.  Maybe they’re after you, too.”

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you.  Listen to me, Brown-eyes.  Go get your hoss an’ feed him the spur till you’re a hundred miles away, an’ even then don’t stop runnin’.”

He merely stared at her curiously.

She stamped.

“Don’t stop to talk.  If they’re after him and you’re his partner, they probably want you, too.”

“I’ll stay aroun’.  If they’re curious about me, I’ll tell ’em my name—­I’ll even spell it for ’em.  Who are they?”

“They are—­hell—­that’s all.”

“I’d like to see ’em.  Maybe they’re real men.”

“They’re devils.  If I told you their names you’d turn stiff.”

“I’ll take one chance.  Tell me who they are.”