"I'd like to go," said Jack, "but I must get back, I suppose. I've lost too much time, as it is. I can help load, but then I must take the passenger. Another thing; I hear there is going to be a dance in town two nights from now. Charley Powell brought the news when he came out the other day, and Mrs. Powell and Bess are with the Powell outfit, going to the dance." "I suppose likely the whole country will be there. What do you know about the Claib Wood and Mason trouble, Jack? Is that likely to be renewed when we get into town? I don't think Mason is likely to make any trouble; but Wood has rather a bad name. Suppose you speak to Mason about it before we get in, and I'll try to find Wood there and we'll see if we can't stop, or at least postpone, any renewal of this quarrel." Two days later the beeves were in the loading corrals, but the promised cars had not yet made their appearance. Mr. Sturgis, knowing of old the uncertainties of railroad promises, had provided against such a contingency by arranging for a lot of hay, and the beeves were fed that night and were to be fed again the next morning. It was hoped that during the night the cars would come. Powell's cattle came in a little later than the Sturgis herd, and they also had to be fed, and fed with Mr. Sturgis' hay. The next day, if it were not possible to load, it would be necessary to drive the beeves eight or ten miles over to the banks of the Medicine Bow River and to hold them there. Before they reached town, Jack spoke to Mason about the possibility of further trouble with Claib Wood, and Mason declared that, so far as he was concerned, he had got through with Wood, and had absolutely nothing against him. "Of course," said Mason, "I'll be on the lookout, and if Claib tries any of his tricks on me, I'll have to be just a little bit quicker than he is; but I've no quarrel with Claib, and don't want any." Soon after they reached town Mr. Sturgis looked up Claib, and had quite a talk with him. He was apparently fully recovered from his injuries, but the weeks that he had spent under a roof had bleached away his outdoor color and he looked pale and thin. "I tell you, Mr. Sturgis," said Claib, "I've no very good feelings toward Jack Mason, for he picked a quarrel with me, and hurt me just for meanness." "In one way, I suppose that's true," answered Mr. Sturgis; "but, on the other hand, it's only fair for you to remember that you shot Rufe Mason without any particular provocation or quarrel, and it's natural that Jack should remember what you had done to his brother." "Well," admitted Claib, "that's so. I never ought to have shot Rufe, and I wouldn't have done it, only I was drunk and quarrelsome. I expect it was natural for Jack Mason to want to get even with me. I've had time during the last two months to do a whole lot of thinking, and I'll say this, that if Jack Mason is willing to wipe it out, I'll say the same and shake hands with him on it."