"Well, Claib," he said, "I see you're better and I reckon now that you'll get along all right. It won't take long for your bones to knit. I'm going off now, but I thought I'd come in and have a little talk with you before I left. You're a pretty mean man, and you're pretty quick with your gun, and a pretty good cowboy. After you shot Rufe in Rawlins I always made up my mind that I'd have a talk with you if we ever met up together, and now I've had it. You're mean, and I expect that when you get well maybe you'll try to get me; but if I were you I wouldn't do it. You're quick, but it isn't any ways likely that you're the quickest man in the world, or even in Wyoming, or even in Medicine Bow. You tried to draw yesterday, but you weren't quick enough. You may lay for me and get me in that way sometime, but if we ever meet and you try any of your tricks with me, I'm more likely to get you than you are to get me; and I believe it would be a good idea for you to remember that. I don't want to kill you, but if I have to I will. "Now I've been to see your wife this morning and I've told her that you're laid up, and she says she's willing to take care of you until you're able to get around. You won't be able to move for a week or two now, and I told her she had better leave you here and just kind o' keep track of you, and see that you're comfortable, and not try to take you to her house. She's a good woman, Claib, and if you were smart you'd be good to her." Claib made no reply to Mason's rather long speech, but his eyes glittered with anger. As Mason turned to go out of the room, Claib glared at him savagely. "I'll git you yet, Jack Mason!" he cried. "Better think it over, Claib," Mason called back cheerily. CHAPTER XV AN ENGLISHMAN IN CAMP As Mason stepped out of the saloon, turning up the street toward the stable, he saw Ross walking toward him with a tall, large, red-headed young man, who was evidently an Englishman. As they met, Mason spoke. "I'm going to start back now, Ross. I've finished up my business here in town." "Hold on a minute," said Ross. "Here's a man just come in on the passenger this morning, who wants to go out into the country where you're going, and I told him maybe you could help him. Mr. Donald, this is Jack Mason." "If I can help you, Mr. Donald, I'll be glad to," Mason said as the two shook hands; "but I'm just going back to the round-up camp, forty miles or so from here." "Well," explained the young man, "I was thinking of going out to Mr. Sturgis's ranch. He lives somewhere up North, about forty miles, I think he told me, from the railroad. Is his place anywhere near your camp?"