"You provoked his attack!" she flashed. "He could do nothing else." "That was because I preferred to risk his life than the certainty of him taking that of Tommy Watkins, who was being deliberately baited. Bud lost his rights when he drew his gun against an unsuspecting man. I am sorry if you look upon the unfortunate incident in any other light; but I am so sure of my position that I would repeat it today under the same conditions. Besides I am naturally prejudiced against assassins." "Why did you give him his gun before he had time to master his anger?" she demanded, her eyes flashing. "Because I wanted to show him how impersonal my interference was, and to help smooth over a tense situation. It was one of those high-tension moments when a false move might easily precipitate a shambles. There were a dozen armed men in the room, a ratio of ten to two. I followed my best judgment. I am not apologizing, Miss Saunders, even to you; I am merely explaining the situation as it existed. When Bud Haines drew his gun from the side to shoot a man who did not know of his danger, he broke our rules. I would have been justified in shooting him down at the move. Instead I tried to stop his shot and give him a way out of it." While he spoke his right hand had risen to his belt and now hung there by a crooked thumb, a position he was in the habit of assuming when he spoke earnestly. She glanced down at it involuntarily, shuddered, and slowly closed the door. "I am very sorry, Mr. Jones, but--" the closing of the door ended the conversation for both. He studied the warped, weather-beaten panel and the white, china knob for a full minute, and then slowly replaced his hat and slowly walked back to his horse. Patting the silky neck he shook his head. "Omar, it’s been comin’ to me for twenty years--but it might have waited till I really deserved it. Come on--we’ll go back to th’ herd, where we belong." Thoughtfully he rode away, his face older and sterner, its lines seemingly a little deeper. *CHAPTER XII* *CLOSER FRIENDSHIPS*