Corliss flushed and the veins swelled on his neck, but he kept silent.  He looked the cowboy in the eye and was met by a gaze as steady as his own; an aggressive and insolent gaze that had for its backing sheer physical courage and nothing more.  It became a battle of mental endurance and Corliss eventually won.

After the lapse of several seconds, the cowboy spoke to his horse. 
“Come on, Doc!   The son-of-a----- is loco.”

Corliss heard, but held his peace.  He stood watching the cowboy until the latter was out on the road.  He noticed that he took the northern branch, toward Antelope.  Then the rancher entered the house, picked up his hat, buckled on his gun, and hastened to the corral.  He saddled Chinook and took the trail to the Loring rancho.

He rode slowly, trying to arrive at the best method of presenting his side of the sheep-killing to Loring.  He hoped that Eleanor Loring would not be present during the interview with her father.  He was disappointed, for she came from the wide veranda as he rode up and greeted him.

“Won’t you come in?” she asked.

“I guess not.  I’d like to see your father.”

She knew that her father had forbidden Corliss the house, and, indeed, the premises.  She wondered what urgency brought him to the rancho.  “I’ll call him, then.”

Corliss answered the grave questioning in her eyes briefly.  “The sheep,” he said.

“Oh!” She turned and stepped to the veranda.  “Dad, John is here.”

David Loring came to the doorway and stood blinking at Corliss.  He did not speak.

“Mr. Loring, one of my men set Chance on a band of your sheep.  My foreman tells me that Chance killed a lamb.  I want to pay for it.”

Loring had expected something of the kind.  “Mighty proud of it, I reckon?”

“No, I’m not proud of it.  I apologize—­for the Concho.”

“You say it easy.”

“No, it isn’t easy to say—­to you.  I’ll pay the damage.  How much?”

“Your dog, eh?  Well, if you’ll shoot the dam’ dog the lamb won’t cost you a cent.”

“No, I won’t shoot the dog.  He was put up to it.  I fired the man that set him on to the sheep.”

“That’s your business.  But that don’t square you with me.”

“I’ll settle, if you’ll fix the price,” said Corliss.

“You will, eh?  Then, mebby you’d think you was square with ole man Loring and come foolin’ around here like that tramp brother of yours.  Fine doin’s in Antelope, from what I hear.”

“Dad!” exclaimed the girl, stepping to her father.  “Dad!”

“You go in the house, Nellie!  We’ll settle this.”

Corliss dismounted and strode up to Loring.  “If you weren’t an old man I’d give you the licking of your life!  I’ve offered to settle with you and I’ve apologized.  You don’t belong in a white man’s country.”

“I got a pup that barks jest like that—­and he’s afraid of his own bark,” said Loring.