The blunt-fingered hand of Nash stole across the table.

“If it’s a go, shake, Mr. Drew.”

A mighty hand fell in his, and under the pressure he set his teeth.  Afterward he covertly moved his fingers and sighed with relief to see that no permanent harm had been done.

“Me speakin’ personal, Mr. Drew, I’d of give a lot to seen you when you was ridin’ the range.  This Bard—­he’ll be here before sunset to-morrow.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Steve.  I’ve an idea that before you count your thousand you’ll think that you’ve been underpaid.  That’s straight.”

“This Bard is something of a man?”

“I can say that without stopping to think.”

“Texas?”

“No.  He’s a tenderfoot, but he can ride a horse as if he was sewed to the skin, and I’ve an idea that he can do other things up to the same standard.  If you can find two or three men who have silent tongues and strong hands, you’d better take them along.  I’ll pay their wages, and big ones.  You can name your price.”

But Nash was frowning.

“Now and then I talk to the cards a bit, Mr. Drew, and you’ll hear fellers say some pretty rough things about me, but I’ve never asked for no odds against any man.  I’m not going to start now.”

“You’re a hard man, Steve, but so am I; and hard men are the kind I take to.  I know that you’re the best foreman who ever rode this range and I know that when you start things you generally finish them.  All that I ask is that you bring Bard to me in this house.  The way you do it is your own problem.  Drunk or drugged, I don’t care how, but get him here unharmed.  Understand?”

“Mr. Drew, you can start figurin’ what you want to say to him now.  I’ll get him here—­safe!  And then Sally—­”

“If money will buy her you’ll have me behind you when you bid.”

“When shall I start?”

“Now.”

“So-long, then.”

He rose and passed hastily from the room, leaning forward from the hips like a man who is making a start in a foot-race.

Straight up the stairs he went to his room, for the foreman lived in the big house of the rancher.  There he took a quantity of equipment from a closet and flung it on the bed.  Over three selections he lingered long.

The first was the cartridge belt, and he tried over several with conscientious care until he found the one which received the cartridges with the greatest ease.  He could flip them out in the night, automatically as a pianist fingers the scale in the dark.

Next he examined lariats painfully, inch by inch, as though he were going out to rope the stanchest steer that ever roamed the range.  Already he knew that those ropes were sound and true throughout, but he took no chances now.  One of the ropes he discarded because one or two strands in it were, or might be, a trifle frayed.  The others he took alternately and whirled with a broad loop, standing in the centre of the room.  Of the set one was a little more supple, a little more durable, it seemed.  This he selected and coiled swiftly.