Black spat into the fire. His face reflected disgust, but he said nothing. What was there to say, except that his soul was sick of the evil into which he was being dragged by the man he accepted as leader? Tug put on his slicker. “Where you going?” asked Black. “To the camp.” “’S a long way. Better stay at my shack to-night.” “Much obliged. I will.” They went out together. Tug was careful to walk with Black between him and the cabin as long as it was in sight. The wind had died completely, so that the air was no longer a white smother. Travel was easy, for the cold had crusted the top of the snow. They worked their way out of the gulch, crossed an edge of the forest reserve, and passed the cabin of the homesteader Howard. Not far from this, Black turned into his own place. The range rider kicked off his webs and replenished the fire. While he made supper, Hollister sat on the floor before the glowing piñon knots and dried his skis. When they were thoroughly dry, he waxed them well, rubbing in the wax with a cork. “Come an’ get it,” Black called presently. They sat down to a meal of ham, potatoes, biscuits, plenty of gravy, and coffee. Tug did himself well. He had worked hard enough in the drifts to justify a man-size hunger. Their talk rambled in the casual fashion of haphazard conversation. It touched on Jake Prowers and Cig, rather sketchily, for Black did not care to discuss the men with whom he was still allied, no matter what his private opinion of them might be. It included the tunnel and the chances of success of the Sweetwater Dam project, this last a matter upon which they differed. Don had spent his life in the saddle. He stuck doggedly to the contention that, since water will not run uphill, the whole enterprise was “dawg-goned foolishness.” Hollister gave up, shrugging his shoulders. “All right with me. A man convinced against his will, you know. Trouble with you is that you don’t want the Flat Tops irrigated, so you won’t let yourself believe they can be.” “The Government engineers said they couldn’t be watered, didn’t they? Well, their say-so goes with me all right.” “They were wrong, but you needn’t believe it till you see water in the ditches on Flat Top.” “I won’t.” Tug rose from the table and expanded his lungs in a deep, luxurious yawn. “Think I’ll turn in and sleep round the clock if you don’t mind. I can hardly keep my eyes open.” Black waved his hand at the nearest bunk. “Go to it.” While he was taking off his boots, the engineer came to a matter he wanted to get off his mind. “Expect you know the hole I was in when you showed up this afternoon. I’ll say I never was more glad to see anybody in my life.” “What d’you mean?” asked Black, blank wall eyes full on his guest. “I mean that Prowers was watching for a chance to kill me. I’d called for a showdown a moment before you opened the door.”