Respect was in Haydon's eyes, in the droop of his shoulders, in his hesitating step. And into Harlan's eyes came a gleam of that contempt which had always seized him when in the presence of men who feared him. And yet, had not Harlan possessed the faculty of reading character at a glance; had he not had that uncanny instinct of divining the thoughts of men who meditated violence, he could not have known that Haydon feared him. For Haydon's fear was not abject. It was that emotion which counsels caution, which warns of a worthy antagonist, which respects force that is elemental and destroying. Haydon smiled as he halted within a few paces of Harlan and turned the palms of his hands outward. "You're 'Drag' Harlan, of Pardo," he said. Harlan nodded. "My name's Haydon. I own the Star--about fifteen miles west--on Sunset Trail. I happen to be a friend of Miss Morgan's, and I'd like to talk with you about the Rancho Seco." "Get goin'." Haydon's smile grew less expansive. "It's a rather difficult subject to discuss. It rather seems to be none of my affair. But you will understand, being interested in Barbara's future, and in the welfare of the ranch, why I am presuming to question you. What do you intend to do with the ranch?" "Run it." "Of course," smiled Haydon. "I mean, of course, to refer to the financial end of it. Miss Morgan will handle the money, I suppose." "You got orders from Miss Barbara to gas to me about the ranch?" "Well, no, I can't say that I have. But I have a natural desire to know." "I'll be tellin' her what I'm goin' to do." Haydon smiled faintly. Twice, during the silence that followed Harlan's reply, Haydon shifted his gaze from Harlan's face to the ground between himself and the other, and then back again. It was plain to Haydon that he could proceed no farther in that direction without incurring the wrath that slumbered in Harlan's heart, revealed by his narrowing eyes. In Harlan's heart was a bitter, savage passion. Hatred for this man, which had been aroused by Barbara's reference to him, and intensified by his visit to the girl, had been made malignant by his appearance now in the rôle of inquisitor. Jealousy, Harlan would not have admitted; yet the conviction that Haydon was handsome, and that women would like him--that no doubt Barbara already liked him--brought a cold rage to Harlan. He stood, during the momentary silence, his lips curving with contempt, his eyes glinting with a passion that was unmistakable to Haydon. He stepped down from the doorway and walked slowly to Haydon, coming to a halt within a yard of him. His hands were hanging at his sides, his chin had gone a little forward; and in his manner was the threat that had brought a paralysis of fear to more than one man.