A thrill, a sort of shock, certainly not due even to subconscious fear, passed over Dwight, and he almost drew upon his rein. Then a hot flush of shame rose in him and tingled through every nerve in his body, as he wondered if for one instant he could have feared the presence of any living man, armed or unarmed, and running his hand behind him to be sure that his own revolver was in place, and with his head well up he rode even more briskly forward. He had no thought of caution. The sharp warning Dr. Stone had given him so recently never entered his brain. That was the man who, on several occasions, had threatened to kill him, and who, Carson firmly believed, had once tried it. That there was to be grim trouble he did not doubt. Averting it after the manner of a coward was not thought of. When the two riders were about a hundred yards apart, Dan Willis, hearing the fall of horses' hoofs, looked up suddenly. There was no mistaking the evolution of his facial expression from startled bewilderment to that of angry, bestial satisfaction. Uttering an unctuous grunt of delight, and with his revolver swinging easily against his brawny thigh, by the aid of his tense left hand the mountaineer drew his horse squarely into the very middle of the narrow road and there essayed to check him. The animal, quivering with excitement from the shots just fired over his head, was still restive and swerved tremblingly from side to side, but with prodding spur and fierce command Willis managed to keep him in the attitude of open opposition to Carson's passage, which was, as things go in the mountains, a threat not to be misunderstood. Carson Dwight read the action well, and his blood boiled. “Halt thar!” Dan Willis suddenly called out, in a sharp, fierce tone, and as he spoke he raised his revolver till the hand holding it rested on the high pommel of his saddle. “Why should I halt?” almost to his surprise rang clearly from Dwight's lips. “This is a public road!” [Illustration: 0343] “Not for _yore_ sort,” was hurled back. “It's entirely too narrow for a gentleman an' a dog to pass on. _I'm_ goin' to pass, but I'll walk my hoss over yore body. I've been praying for this chance, an' God or Hell, one or t'other, sent it to me. Some folks say you've got grit. I've my doubts about it, for you are the hardest man to meet I ever wanted to settle with, but if you've got any sand in yore gizzard you've got a chance to spill some of it now.” “I don't want to have trouble with you,” Dwight controlled himself enough to say. “Bloodshed is not in my line.” “But you've _got_ to fight!” Willis roared. “If you don't I'll ride up to you an' spit in yore damned, sneakin' face.” “Well, I hardly think you'll do that,” said Carson, his rage overwhelming him. “But before we go into this thing tell me, for my own satisfaction if you are the one who tried to kill me the night Pete Warren was jailed.”