a break in the level he had been riding. Striking a cross-trail, he dipped into a narrow valley, which widened as he proceeded, until at last it grew into a basin of immense proportions.
Half an hour after leaving the Bar S he paused to let Midnight drink at a water-hole; and then he rode on again, the big black horse traveling steadily at a pace that soon brought horse and rider to a level where a herd of cattle was grazing.
Skirting the fringe of the herd, Rand came upon the outfit wagon, standing near another water-hole. Rand had seen several men of the Three Bar among the cattle as he rode up; but he was looking for Larry Redfern, his range boss. And when he saw him standing near his horse close to the outfit wagon, he veered Midnight, rode to where Redfern was standing, and slipped out of the saddle.
Larry Redfern was tall and slender, clean-shaven, and square-jawed. His face was wrinkled genially, and the little creases at the corners of his eyes bore eloquent testimony of the quick humor that characterized him. His steel-blue eyes, though, had a level directness in them that warned men that they might trespass too far upon the geniality that radiated from him; and the firm set to his lips indicated that he "was a man of tenacity and indomitable purpose.
He grinned at Rand as the latter slid from the saddle and confronted him — the grin of sincere friendship.
"I seen you hittin' the breeze quite some early," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Lookin' for strays, mebbe. They're rather scarce, though, for the boys have been ridin' a heap close on them lately.
"It wasn't strays," said Rand.
"Shucks," drawled Redfern; "I wasn't reckonin' it was'—not too strong! Didn't she give you no daisy to sport in a buttonhole?"
"She wasn't allowin' she was handin' out any bokays this mornin'," returned Rand. He smiled at the other, but there was a glint of disappointment in his eyes that was not unnoticed by Redfern.
"So she wouldn't decorate you none! An' you thinkin' of her, an' talkin' of her for four years! I'd call that mighty stingy of her!" Redfern grinned toward the rimming hills in the distance and hummed in a dismal monotone:
My girl she's gone an' left me;
She's travelin' now by rail.
She ain't allowin' to poke along
No more on the old cow trail.
She got herself a drummer-man;
A dude with a flowin tie.
She—
Glancing sidelong at Rand, he broke off and turned.
"Hell!" he said; "it's somethin' else!"
And then, the spirit of levity falling from him like a mask, he looked at Rand, his face set in stern, rigid lines.
"It's Compton!" he said.
"Now you're guessin'" grinned Rand, his eyes gleaming with a light that made Redfern draw a long, full breath. "They've framed up on me — in Ocate. I didn't take the trouble to get a bill of sale from Mellert v;hen I bought Midnight from him, an' they're chargin' me with stealin' him." Then he related what had occurred at the Bar S, and Redfern's bronzed face wreathed into a smile of delight.
"That's foolin' them!" he declared. "An' you shot the old maverick's pipe out of his fingers, eh?" His eyes gleamed wickedly. "I reckon that if I'd been doin' the shootin'—sayin' I could sling my gun that way—'I'd. have planted a slug in his breadbasket!"
"I wasn't aimin' to kill him," smiled Rand mirthlessly; "I was just warnin' him. I saw him goin' for his gun, an' there was sure murder in his eyes. I reckon, before I get through with him, I'll have to kill him."
Redfern looked keenly at his employer, and saw the troubled light in his eyes. He had joked about the girl a few minutes before, but he knew the girl had made a deep impression upon Rand—for there had been times during the last four years when Rand had intimated as much. But Redfern said nothing, for this was one of those situations in which advice — or even sympathy — is not to be offered without solicitation.
He listened attentively, however, the lines of his face growing grim and his eyes glowing with passion, while Rand related what he had heard from Lucia Morell.
"Hell's fire!" he broke out when Rand concluded. "It's time for a clean-up! Look here, Rand," he added, "you leave this to me an' the boys!"
"Was you thinkin' I was gettin' ready to leave the country?" Rand's smile was a mixture of amusement and bitterness. "Oh, don't," he added.
Redfern looked downward, not meeting his employer's gaze, which would have confused and embarrassed him. For Redfern knew as well as Rand that the rules of conduct in this country forbade what he had proposed. Rand must not seek to evade a meeting with the gunfighter. For Seddon, Compton, and Webster would not hesitate to disseminate the news of his refusal. And he could not plead ignorance as an excuse, for Seddon knew he was aware of the plot that had been made to trap him — and he knew that if he failed to go alone to Ocate, Seddon would talk.
However, there was no desire in his mind to escape a meeting with Kinney. From the instant he had heard the news from Lucia Morell, he had known that he would go to Ocate with the deliberate purpose of meeting Kinney. Upon one point only was his mind unsettled, and that was concerning his treatment of the gunfighter.
And he could not decide — for the coldly furious yearning in his heart to slay the man was opposed by a recollection of the gentle precepts of his mother's teaching. He knew he was going to Ocate, and he knew also that he would not decide the question that was in his mind until he was face to face with the gunfighter.
Redfern did not answer, and Rand's smile, as he looked at the other's averted face, was eloquent with gratitude and understanding. When Rand was in his present mood his face bore a strong resemblance to the woman of the photograph at which he often gazed — there was the same luminous softness of the eyes, with a yearning wistful-ness gleaming far back in them.
It was an expression that Redfern had never seen, for Redfern's back had always received it. Face to face with his friend, Rand always masked the expression with cynicism and heavy tolerance.
"So you was thinkin' I'd run out of my responsibilities, eh?" he gibed when at last Redfern turned. "When did I ever give you any sign that I'd turn yellow?"
Redfern grinned guiltily, for he knew from Rand's tone that he had divined the sentiment that was behind his proffer of assistance. Yet no more than Rand did he permit his words to indicate the state of his feelings.
"You're a plumb damn fool!" he declared gruffly. "Slim Kinney's the slickest gunman in this part of the country. He'll salivate you!"
"There's a chance, of course," said Rand gravely. "I reckon that's why I took it into my head to gas to you about it. I've heard of Slim Kinney—an' I know his tricks. Now, knowin' his tricks, or not, if my guns would snag, or I'd miss them when I go after them, why, it's dead certain Bud wouldn't have no dad any more."
He looked straight at Redfern, his smile grave. Redfern scowled, for it seemed to him that there was a presentiment of evil in Rand's heart. Redfern's breath labored in his lungs with the constriction that seemed to be there. But even though he divined that this might be a final parting with his friend, he could not let him know of the affection he felt.
"What you gettin' at?" he demanded gruffly.
