"Did you say 'was' Dick Wilbur?" "Yes. Did you know him?" "Heard of him, I think. Kind of a hard one, wasn't he?" "No, no! A fine, brave, gentle fellow--poor Dick!" She stopped, her eyes filling with tears at many a memory. "Hm!" coughed the boy. "I thought he was one of old Boone's gang? If he's dead, that made the last of 'em--except Red Pierre." It was like the sound of a trumpet call at her ear. Mary sat up with a start. "What do you know of Red Pierre?" The boy flushed a little, and could not quite meet her eye. "Nothin'." "At least you know that he's still alive?" "Sure. Anyone does. When he dies the whole range will know about it--damn quick. I know _that_ much about Red Pierre; but who doesn't?" "I, for one." "You!" Strangely enough, there was more of accusation than of surprise in the word. "Certainly," repeated Mary. "I've only been in this part of the country for a short time. I really know almost nothing about the--legends." "Legends?" said the boy, and laughed. "Legend? Say, lady, if Red Pierre is just a legend the Civil War ain't no more'n a fable. Legend? You go anywhere on the range an' get 'em talking about that legend, and they'll make you think it's an honest-to-goodness fact, and no mistake." Mary queried earnestly: "Tell me about Red Pierre. It's almost as hard to learn anything of him as it is to find out anything about McGurk." "What you doing?" asked the boy, keen with suspicion. "Making a study of them two for a book?" He wiped a damp forehead. "Take it from me, lady, it ain't healthy to join up them two even in talk!" "Is there any harm in words?" The boy was so upset for some unknown reason that he rose and paced up and down the room. "Lots of harm in fool words." He sat down again, and seemed a little anxious to explain his unusual conduct. "Ma'am, suppose you had a well plumb full of nitroglycerin in your back yard; suppose there was a forest fire comin' your way from all sides; would you like to have people talk about nitroglycerin and that forest fire meeting? Even the talk would give you chills. That's the way it is with Pierre and McGurk. When they meet there's going to be a fight that'll stop the hearts of the people that have to look on." Mary smiled to cover her excitement. "But are they coming your way?" The question seemed to infuriate young Jack, who cried: "Ain't that a fool way of talkin'? Lady, they're coming everyone's way. You never know where they'll start from or where they'll land. If there's a thunder-cloud all over the sky, do you know where the lightning's going to strike?" "Excuse me," said Mary, but she was still eager with curiosity, "but I should think that a youngster like you wouldn't have anything to fear from even those desperadoes." "Youngster, eh?" snarled the boy, whose wrath seemed implacable. "I can make my draw and start my gun as fast as any man--except them two, maybe"--he lowered his voice somewhat even to name them--"Pierre--McGurk!"