She was staring at him with blazing eyes, a look on her white face such as he never had seen on a woman before; and he realized that never before had he seen an angry woman. His smile changed subtly. It softened, the cynicism faded from it and kindly lines crept in; and there was something in his eyes that never had been there before. He looked out across the valley, at the few cows, where there should have been so many in a valley like that. Then he gazed steadily at the point where the three horsemen had become lost to sight--and the smile gave way to a look hard and cold. Pepper moved, and Johnny drew a deep breath, squaring his shoulders in sudden resolution. Swinging from the saddle he walked slowly forward toward the threatening rifle muzzle, took the weapon from its owner's knees, lowered the hammer, and placed the gun against the rock at her side. Straightening up, he whistled softly. Pepper, advancing with mincing steps, shoved her velvety muzzle against his cheek and stopped. He swung into the saddle, wheeled the horse and rode around a near-by thicket, soon returning with a saddled SV pony, which he led to its owner. Mounting again, he backed Pepper away and, removing his sombrero, wheeled and sent the horse up the slope without a backward glance, sitting erect in the saddle as a figure of bronze until hidden by the crest and well down on the other side. Then he pulled suddenly at the reins with unthinking roughness and dashed at top speed to the left until the crest was again close at hand. With his head barely on a level with the top of the hill, he sat staring across the little valley at the point where the horsemen had disappeared; and there was a look on his face which, had they seen it, would have turned their conversation to subjects less trivial. CHAPTER II BIT BY BIT The sun was near the meridian when Johnny rode into Gunsight, a town which he took as a matter of course. They were all alike, he reflected. If it were not for the names they scarcely could be told apart--and it would have been just as well to have numbered them. A collection of shacks, with the over-played brave names. The shack he was riding for was the "Palace," which only rubbed it in. Out of a hundred towns, seventy-five would have their Palace saloon and fifty would have a Delmonico hotel. Dismounting before the door, he went in and saw the proprietor slowly arising from a chair, and he was the fattest man Johnny ever had seen. The visitor's unintentional stare started the conversation for him. "Well, don't you like my looks?" bridled the proprietor. Johnny's expression was one of injured innocence. "Why, I wasn't seein' you," he explained. "I was thinkin'--but now that you mention it, I don't see nothin' th' matter with your looks. Should there be?" The other grunted something, becoming coherent only when the words concerned business. "What's yourn?" "A drink with you, an' some information." "Th' drink goes; but th' information don't."