"Then I _will_ do it," said Johnny, going into the kitchen and throwing wood into the stove. He took down a lid made up of rings, substituted it for one of the stove lids, lifted out the middle section and put in its place an iron ladle. A chair scraped out in the dining-room and George poked his head in. "What you think yo're doin'?" he demanded. "Callin' yore bluff. Go on back to yore solitaire. I'm goin' to run some bullets." "Why, cuss yore nerve!" said George. "Who told you to mess up my kitchen?" "You said you'd like to see me stand over this stove," answered Johnny. "Run around an' get me two pounds of lead from Dailey." "Get it yoreself!" snapped George. "You clean up when you get through," he warned. "Shore," replied Johnny, and he went out to get the lead. * * * * * Dailey looked up. "Hello, Nelson!" "Howd'y, Ben! Got two pounds of lead, an' some Kentucky powder?" "Shore," answered Dailey. He slid a bar of lead onto the counter and took a can from a shelf. "This ain't Kaintuck--but it's as good. How much?" Johnny put a few grains in the palm of his hand and rubbed them with a forefinger. "I don't want this at all," he said, showing the black smudge. "I want th' kind _you_ use." Dailey grumbled, but felt under the counter and produced another can. "Here's th' best made," he said. Johnny tested it, and nodded. "Half a pound will do." Returning to the kitchen he used George's axe to cut the lead into smaller pieces, and dumped them into the ladle, after which he paid a hurried visit to his room for tools. Two-Spot shoved his head in at the door. "What you doin'? Runnin' slugs?" "Shoein' a hoss," said Johnny. Two-Spot grinned. "Where'd you get th' lead?" "Dailey's," answered Johnny, punching out old primers. "Buy primers, an powder, too?" demanded Two-Spot. "Powder," grunted Johnny. "Off'n th' shelf behind him?" "Under th' counter." "Yo're lucky; he must like you. Well, then some of 'em will go off," said Two-Spot "But if you'd bought his primers, none of 'em would." He looked around and started to resize some of the shells. "These here ain't shells. They're--they're kegs." He picked up the mold and opened it. "My G--d!" he snorted. "Yo're a bloody-minded cuss. Yore gun got wheels an' a limber?" "It'll make th' other feller limber gettin' out of th' way." Two-Spot hurt his finger and quit. "Reckon Dave wants me," he observed. "I'm shore _I_ don't," grunted Johnny, beginning to reprime the shells. "_Do_ it yoreself, then!" snapped Two-Spot, going out. He looked carefully around and, going into the narrow space between the kitchen and the rear of the saloon, disappeared from sight.