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sturdily.
    Jim nodded quietly. “It better not be very far, Sheriff. Because I sent notice of eviction to every man on this lease this mornin’.”
    â€œServin’ it with your gunmen, eh?”
    Jim flushed a little this time. “Who I hire don’t concern you, Haynes. I’m responsible for my crew, and they can be a bunch of Comanches for all you care.”
    â€œYou’re responsible, you say?”
    â€œI said it, didn’t I?”
    Sheriff Haynes nodded wisely. “All right. That’s one thing settled. That’ll give me a handle to run you out of this county twice as fast as I would have anyway.”
    â€œYou try it,” Jim invited.
    â€œI’ll do that,” Sheriff Haynes promised, and strode over to his horse.
    Jim and Max Bonsell watched him ride off, not without a certain dignity, and then Jim turned to Max.
    â€œNice fair sheriff,” he murmured. “Where’d they find him? Under a loose board?”
    Max Bonsell only grinned. “Begin to see my reason for hirin’ a hardcase crew?”
    â€œYeah,” Jim said thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re right, at that.”
    When Jim got his map, he went down to the corral for Sleepy. The sight of him, standing sleek and big and clean-limbed in that cool sunshine cheered Jim up a little. He whistled to him, and the big gelding came over. He spooked away from the bridle a couple of times, and Jim swore affectionately at him. This was a game they played daily, one which neither of them took seriously, but one which Jim considered was Sleepy’s right as a loyal and dependable friend. Once the bridle was on, Sleepy looked around him in a haughty, questioning way that made Jim sympathize with him. He felt that way himself, just a little. This was a queer outfit, one that gave you no confidence and no pride in your work. But it was too late to back out now. To begin with, he’d given Bonsell his word, and he regretted it now. And then there was that matter of the sheriff. He had a way that went against a man’s grain, and the stubborn streak in Jim was aroused at his boasting. Out of the pure contrariness which often guides a man in his decision, Jim had decided that he would stay here just to see if Sheriff Haynes could run him out.
    He was aware, suddenly, that he was being watched, and he turned slowly to regard Lily Beauchamp’s brother watching him from the top pole of the corral. Ben Beauchamp had a good face to begin with, fine-lined and clean-looking, but he wore an insufferable expression on it that irritated a man. Even the tow hair and the lithe, slim build of him couldn’t change that.
    Jim, remembering the quiet desperation of the girl, resolved to check his impulse. He said, “Mornin’.”
    â€œThat ain’t a bad horse,” Ben Beauchamp observed, “but I’ve seen better.”
    â€œWhere?”
    Beauchamp was a little astonished at the bluntness of Jim’s retort. “Right here,” he said, holding up the reins in his hand. Jim walked over and looked at the big, Roman-nosed blue that Ben Beauchamp was riding.
    â€œCan he run?” he asked mildly.
    â€œFaster’n that chestnut.”
    â€œWant to bet?”
    The kid looked appraisingly at the chestnut again. “Sure.”
    â€œMy horse against yours.”
    â€œAll right. Where do we race?”
    Jim glanced over toward the creek. There was a flat, level stretch that paralleled it for six hundred yards or so to the timber gate toward the south. He said, “From even with the corral down to that far gate. It’s open. First man through wins.”
    â€œAny dog holes there?”
    â€œI’ll see,” Jim said. He mounted and rode out toward the creek. The inspection, which served to limber up Sleepy, revealed no prairie-dog holes, and Jim came back to the starting-line. Ben Beauchamp’s face had fallen a little when he saw Sleepy canter, but he put