“There you are, Buck Thornton of the Poison Hole,” he said with an increase of irritability in his curt tones.  “And now you listen to me; you’re a fool!  Or else you’re so far out of the world over on your ranch that you don’t know what’s going on.  Which is it?”

“I hear a good deal of what’s happening,” returned Thornton drily.

“Then I suppose you realize that a man who rides day and night, through that country, carrying five thousand dollars with him, and when everybody in the country knows that according to contract he is about due to make a five thousand dollar payment, is acting like a fool with a suicidal mania?”

For a moment Thornton did not answer.  He seemed so engrossed in his cigarette building that one might almost suppose that he had not heard.  And then, lifting his head suddenly, his eyes keen and hard upon Templeton’s, he said casually,

“I dropped in three days ahead of time, didn’t I?”

“And the wonder is,” snapped Templeton, “that you haven’t dropped clean out of the world!  If you do a fool thing like this, Buck Thornton, when your last payment is due, you can do it.  But I won’t go near your funeral!”

Thornton laughed easily, tucked the receipt into his vest pocket, and reached for his hat and spurs.

“I’m obliged, Mr. Templeton,” he acknowledged lightly.  “But we’ve got to admit that I got across all right this time.  And, as you’ve heard, I suppose, right under Mr. Bad Man’s nose, since I was carrying that little wad last night when Hap Smith got cleaned at Poke Drury’s.  Well, I’ll be going.  Just give that rattlesnake Pollard the five thousand and an invitation from me to keep off my ranch, remembering that it doesn’t happen to belong to him any more.”

He nodded and went to the door.  There he turned and looked back at the girl.  She had risen swiftly, even coming a step toward him.

“I haven’t thanked you ...  I ...”

Templeton looked on curiously, an odd twitching at the corners of his large mouth.  Thornton threw up a sudden hand.

“No,” he said hastily.  “You haven’t spoiled things by thanking me.  And....  We’ll see each other again,” he concluded in his quietly matter-of-fact way.  And, his nod for both of them, he went out.

CHAPTER VI

WINIFRED JUDGES A MAN

There was a puzzled frown in her eyes, a faint flush tingeing her cheeks as, withdrawing her regard from Thornton’s departure, she looked to Templeton and asked quickly: 

“Why did he call Henry Pollard a rattlesnake?”

A faint smile for a moment threatened to drive the sternness away from Templeton’s lips.  But it was gone in a quick tightening of the mouth, and he answered briefly.

“He didn’t know that you knew Pollard.”

“I don’t know him,” she reminded him coolly.  “You will remember that I haven’t seen him since I was six years old.  I hardly know what he looks like.  But you haven’t answered me; why did your imprudent giant call him a rattlesnake?”