"You've made one mistake in striking me; don't make another by keeping that gun pointed at my head. Remember I've a mortgage on your place that you'll wish renewed one of these days." The expression of scorn on the rancher's face was complete. "Trying that line, are you?" he sneered. "Think you can play the money-lender now and scare me? You didn't look much like a banker reaching for your gun; you just looked like a killer then, a plain bar-room killer--but I beat you to the draw. You've got fat and slow, haven't you, since early days when you use to put lead into poor devils whose stuff you wanted. And you didn't look like a banker to me, either, trying to bulldoze Janet when I came in; you looked like the big dirty coward you are. Aha, here's the doctor! Now just tell him how it comes you can order me out of his house, and why you were threatening Janet and making her scream." The physician turned a white, angry countenance to Sorenson. "I heard the scream. Is it true you were abusing my daughter?" he demanded, stepping in front of the man. "I came here because I learned my son Ed had been broken to bits through her trickery and damnable----" The words were cut off by the doctor's hand which smote the blasphemous lips uttering them. Even more than Johnson's blow did this slap upon the mouth enrage the cattleman. His face became congested, his shoulders heaved, but behind the doctor was the revolver still directed at his head. "You've come here uninvited and you've said too much," Doctor Hosmer stated in cold even tones. "You may be the town magnate, but you're only a ruffian and a crook after all. You can't bluff or bully us. More than that, you've insulted my daughter and me beyond any future reparation. As for your son, he got less than he deserved." He turned to the rancher. "You came just in time, it seems. Please see that he leaves the house." Johnson waved with his gun significantly towards the door. "Move right along lively," he added. "And I'll go along with you to see that you don't hamstring my horses, which I don't put past an underhanded cattle-thief like you." Sorenson seemed striving for words that would adequately blast those before him, but they appeared lacking. With a last malignant glare he walked out upon the veranda and down across the yard, with his guard following him. When Johnson returned after Sorenson's departure in his car, he was grinning sardonically. "I shouldn't want him running among my cattle; he'd bite 'em and give 'em the rabies," he remarked. Janet caught and pressed his toil-roughened hand. "You'll never know how much I thank you for coming in just when you did," she cried. "Pshaw, your father would have showed up and stopped him." "I'm not so sure. Father has no weapon, and that man did have one. It was the sight of your pistol that made him cower. You couldn't have chosen a more lucky minute to arrive."