There was no change in his expression as he watched the man he had called Dolver. There came no change in the cold, steady gleam of his eyes as he saw the man stiffen and swing the muzzle of his pistol upward with a quick, jerky motion. But he sneered as with the movement he sent a bullet into the man's chest; his lips curving with slight irony when Dolver's gun went off, the bullet throwing up sand at Purgatory's forehoofs. His eyes grew hard as he saw Dolver stagger, drop his pistol, and clutch at his chest; and he watched with seeming indifference as the man slowly sank to his knees and stretched out, face down, in the dust at the base of the rock. His lips were stiff with bitter rage, however, as he faced the other man, who had not moved. "Get up on your hind legs, you yellow coyote!" he commanded. For an instant it seemed that the other man was to share the fate of the first. The man seemed to think so, too, for he got up trembling, his hands outstretched along the rock, the fingers outspread and twitching from the paralysis of fear that had seized him. "Shoot your gab off quick!" commanded the rider. "Who are you?" "I'm Laskar," the man muttered. "Where you from?" "Lamo." The rider's eyes quickened. "Where did you meet up with that scum?" He indicated Dolver. "In town." "Lamo?" The man nodded. "How long ago?" asked the rider. "'Bout a week." The man's voice was hoarse; he seemed reluctant to talk more, and he cast furtive, dreading glances toward the base of the rock where Dolver had stood before the rider had surprised the men. Watching the man narrowly, the rider noted his nervous glance, and his shrinking, dreading manner. Harlan's eyes gleamed with suspicion, and in a flash he was off the black and standing before Laskar, forbidding and menacing. "Take off your gun-belt an' chuck it under my horse!" he directed sharply. "There's somethin' goin' on here that ain't been mentioned. I'm findin' out what it is." He watched while the man unbuckled his cartridge belt and threw it--the pistol still in the holster--into the sand at Purgatory's hoofs. Then he stepped to the man, sheathed one of his pistols, and ran the free hand over the other's clothing in search of other weapons. Finding none, he stooped and took up Dolver's pistol and rifle that had fallen from the man's hands when he had tumbled off the rock, throwing them near where the cartridge belt had fallen. "You freeze there while I take a look around this rock!" he commanded, with a cold look at the man. Half a dozen steps took him around the base of the rock. He went boldly, though his muscles were tensed and his eyes alert for surprises. But he had not taken a dozen steps in all when he halted and stiffened, his lips setting into straight, hard lines.