Johnny flashed him a glance and looked back at Dave, who nodded significantly at the front of the room. Johnny turned quickly and followed the other's stare. He straightened and walked slowly to the blanket, drew it back a little and then replaced it with reverent care. Arising to his full height, he turned and looked at them. The silence was oppressive, crowded with potentials. They could feel a tension which fairly crackled, and which made them shrink, guiltless though they were. The erect figure radiated a ferocity which numbed them and caused Fanning to lick his dry lips. Overhead the bee, which had buzzed monotonously for so long a time, increased its buzzing and bounced from point to point, its wings striking the ceiling with a dry whirring not greatly unlike the angry whir of a rattler. From an unrinsed glass on the bar came a buzzing from drunken flies renewing their efforts to escape from it. The measured breathing of four men sounded loud and unnatural, and from Dailey's forehead rolled a bead of sweat. They stared at the cold, motionless puncher, fascinated by what emanated from him, unable to look away from the glinting eyes which peered out between narrowed lids at each in turn, and back again. Outside a horse pawed restlessly and the intermittent sound of striking metal reminded them of the slow pealing of a bell. A board cracked suddenly as it contracted from the encroachment of a cooling shadow and sent a shiver up their backs. Fanning's nerves were on edge and seemed about to snap, and his clenching fingers cut into his palms. He suddenly slumped down into his chair. "It was _Wolf_!" he shouted. "Two-Spot wouldn't tell!" The others sat rigid, not heeding the words. Slowly the puncher's hand went to his sombrero and slowly readjusted it with deliberate care and precision. He turned slowly, and slowly departed, the sound of the diminishing hoofbeats echoing in their brains long after the sound had ceased. The unrinsed glass became quiet, the bee blundered out through an open window, and a great peace, soothing and enfolding, stole over them. Fanning stirred, arose to his feet, and stumbled toward the door. "Christ!" he whispered. "Amen," said Dave. "Death's flyin' low." * * * * * The Bar H outfit, loafing near the bunkhouse, were deep in discussion when they heard a horse. Looking up, they saw Johnny Nelson coming toward them at an amble. He nodded gravely and soon stopped near them. Carelessly throwing the reins over Pepper's head, he lazily swung down, pushed his hat back on his head, and sauntered up to them, stopping when only an arm's length away, Wolf stirring restlessly and not taking his eyes from the visitor's face. "Two-Spot was my friend," said Johnny in a matter-of-fact voice. Wolf's slouching frame shifted slightly and froze.