He stood at the window while Potter slowly drew off his apron, carefully folded it and tucked it into a corner. He moved very deliberately, as though reluctant to leave his chief. Had Hollis shown the slightest sign of weakening Potter would have stayed. But watching closely he saw no sign of weakness in the impassive face of his chief, and so, after he had made his preparations for departure, he drew a deep breath of resignation and walked slowly to the back door, where his pony was hitched. He halted at the threshold, looking back at his chief. "Well, good-bye then," he said. Hollis did not turn. "Good-bye," he answered. Potter took one step outward, hesitated, and then again faced the front of the office. "Damn it, Hollis," he said hoarsely, "don't wait for Ten Spot to start anything; when you see him coming in the door bore him. You've got a right to; that's the law in this country. When a man gives you notice to leave town you've got a right to shoot him on sight!" For a moment he stood, awaiting an answer. None came. Potter sighed and stepped out through the door, leaving his chief alone. * * * * * At one minute to six Hollis pulled out his watch. He sighed, replaced the time-piece, and leaned back in his chair. A glance out through the window showed him that the street was deserted except for here and there a cow pony drooping over one of the hitching rails and a wagon or two standing in front of a store. The sun was coming slantwise over the roofs; Hollis saw that the strip of shade in front of the _Kicker_ building had grown to wide proportions. He looked at his watch again. It was one minute after six--and still there were no signs of Ten Spot. A derisive grin appeared on Hollis's face. Perhaps Ten Spot had reconsidered. He decided that he would wait until ten minutes after six; that would give Ten Spot a decent margin of time for delay. And then there was a sudden movement and a man stood just inside the office door, a heavy revolver in his right hand, its muzzle menacing Hollis. The man was tall and angular, apparently about thirty years old, with thin, cruel lips and insolent, shifty eyes. "'Nds up!" he said sharply, swinging the revolver to a threatening poise. "It's six o'clock, you tenderfoot ---- ---- ---- ----!" This was the vile epithet that had been applied to Hollis by Yuma Ed, which had been the direct cause of Yuma's downfall the day of Hollis's arrival in Dry Bottom. Hollis's eyes flashed, but the man was several feet from him and out of reach of his fists. Had Hollis been standing he would have had no chance to reach the man before the latter could have made use of his weapon. Therefore Hollis remained motionless in his chair, catching the man's gaze and holding it steadily with unwavering, narrowed eyes.