The two men looked at each other and laughed foolishly. “Little son-of-a-gun,” whispered Brick. “Ain’t he a dinger?” “Why not ‘she’?” grinned Harp. “Mebbe,” Brick grinned down at the baby. “I dunno much about ’em, but I’d say that this one is kinda cute. Look at the son-of-a-gun kick.” Harp looked around quickly and went back to the door, where he listened closely. “We don’t want to forget where we are, Brick. I’m thinkin’ that the Mostano family will be kinda curious to know how that kid is gettin’ along.” “I know danged well I would if it was mine,” grinned Brick. “Anyway, it kinda stops ’em from promiscuous shootin’ around here; so we’ll set tight and wait for mornin’.” “Tha’sall right,” said Harp thoughtfully, “but what are they so anxious to kill us off for? I should think they’d be danged willin’ to let us get out of here.” “Does look curious,” admitted Brick. “Mebbe they think that they can kill us off and do as they please the rest of their lives. A breed is a queer character, Harp. He prob’ly figures that I’m the law; and when I’m wiped out—blooey goes the law.” They sat down against the wall, where they could watch both doors, and enjoyed a smoke. The baby began to cry fitfully. “Betcha it’s hungry,” declared Harp. “They allus weep that-a-way when they’re needin’ food.” “A sweet chance it’s got of gettin’ a feed tonight.” But the baby did not appreciate that fact, and raised its voice in lamentations. Brick grew nervous over the prolonged wailing. “How long does it take a kid to starve to death, Harp?” “I dunno. Prob’ly a couple of hours, at least. That little jigger won’t never live to starve to death, Brick.” “Why not?” “Why, he’ll bust his windpipe squallin’ that-a-way. Didja ever hear such wheezy yelps? Mebbe it’s got the croup.” “It has sure got somethin,” declared Brick. “They ought to call that kid A. S. Mostano.” “Why the A. S., Brick?” “Almighty Squawk. Whoo-ee, listen to him yowl!” The baby was giving a good imitation of a discordant accordion now; every breath a yelp. Brick got to his feet and started toward the bunk, intending to do everything within his power to soothe the child, but stopped midway of the room. Someone was knocking gently on the front door. Brick and Harp exchanged glances of wonderment. Brick stepped over beside the door and said— “Who’s there?” “I mus’ have baby, please.” It was Mrs. Mostano’s voice. Brick turned his head and grinned at Harp. “You want the baby, eh?” questioned Brick. “Who’s with yuh?” “Nobody with me. I want baby.” “Uh-huh!” Brick motioned Harp to come over beside him and they backed close to the wall. “If she ain’t alone, smoke —— out of ’em, Harp,” whispered Brick. “I wouldn’t let her in,” declared Harp. “To —— with the whole gang, Brick.” “I’d rather be shot than to listen to that yowlin’ all night. Get set, cowboy.”