But Harlan had betrayed no sign that he knew Latimer was watching him; and when he saw Strom Rogers coming toward him from the stable, he grinned at him and made room for him when the latter headed for the bench upon which Harlan was sitting. "Lazy day," offered Rogers as he dropped on the bench beside Harlan; "not a heap doin'." He did not look at Harlan, but leaned forward, took up a cinch buckle that had been lying in the sand at his feet, and turned it idly over and over in his hands, apparently intent on its construction. With his head down, so that even the card-players could not see his lips move, he whispered to Harlan: "Don't let 'em see you know I'm talkin'! They're framin' up on you!" Harlan grinned, shielding his lips with a hand that he passed casually over them. "Meanin' Latimer--an' his friends?" he said. "Yep. Latimer's jealous of you. Been jealous. Thinks he can match your gunplay--itchin' for trouble--bound to have it out with you. We was at the Cache last night, an' I heard him an' Deveny yappin' about it. Deveny's back of him--he's sore about the way you handed it to him in Lamo. Keep your eyes peeled; they're pullin' it off pretty soon. Latimer's doin' the shootin'--he's tryin' to work himself up to it. Be careful." "I'm thankin' you." Harlan leaned back, crossed his legs, and stared off into space, the light in his eyes becoming vacuous. He seemed not to be interested in Latimer and the other two, but in reality he saw them distinctly. But they had their backs to him now, and were slowly sauntering toward the stable door. "So Deveny ain't admirin' me none?" he said to Rogers. "Not scarcely. No more than a gopher is admirin' a side-winder." "Latimer," said Harlan, "don't like my style of beauty either. I've been noticin' it. He's a mighty interestin' man. If I wasn't dead sure he ain't the kind of a guy which goes around shootin' folks in the back, I'd say he pretty near fits the description I got of the man who helped Dolver salivate my side-kicker, Davey Langan, over in Pardo--a couple of months ago." Rogers' side glance was pregnant with a grim, unsmiling humor. "So you've picked him out? I've been wonderin' how long it would take you." The emotion that passed over Harlan was not visible. It might have been detected, however, by the slight leap in his voice. "You an' Latimer is bosom friends, I reckon?" "Shucks!" Rogers' glance met Harlan's for a fleeting instant. "This gang needs cleanin' up," said Rogers. He got up, and stood in front of Harlan, holding out the cinch buckle, as though offering it to the other. For both men had seen that Latimer had left his friends at the stable door and was coming slowly toward the bunkhouse. "You'll have to be slick," warned Rogers. "He's comin'. I'll be moseyin' out of the way."