Her aloof reply disconcerted him. Her attitude was spontaneous, unaffected, and hence unconsciously one of polite indifference. Suddenly Gratton, fume as he would, had become of not the least importance. "You said that you would marry me. Not a dozen minutes ago." "Did I?" she demanded coolly. "Are you quite sure I said that?" "Look here, Miss Gloria." It was Jim Spalding, who had been ill at ease all along and now had the brains and perhaps the delicacy to understand that this was no place for him. "If you don't need me after all, I'll go." "And the rest of us with you," said King. "If Miss Gaynor cares to talk things over with Gratton----" Gloria put out her hand impulsively, touching King's arm. "_You_ stay. Please. Until--he goes." King inclined his head gravely, not realizing that his body stiffened under her light touch. "What about _me_?" demanded the "judge" sharply. "Am I needed or ain't I?" "I'd say not this evening," King's dry voice answered him. "Good-night to you." "That's a fine way to treat a man," cried Summerling truculently. "Here I ride all this way in the dark, and without stoppin' for so much as supper; here I ain't had a bite to eat since dinner-time, and it's good-night and get out! And that hundred dollars I was to get so fast, how about that? Think I'm the man to let folks trample on me and----" "Maybe Jim will give you a hand-out at his cabin," King told him. "As for your money, get it out of Gratton if he promised it to you--or," he added with a flash of heat, "take it out of his hide, for all I care." "Wait for me outside, Summerling," muttered Gratton. "_I_ haven't said you won't be needed, have I?" "Just the same, I wouldn't mind takin' what's comin' to me now----" "Man alive!" shouted Gratton, whirling on him. "Haven't I got enough on my hands without you yelping at me?" "Just the same----" "Jim," called King above the incoherent mouthings, "slip your arm through Summerling's and lead him off with you. Feed him if you feel like it, and let him stick around for a word with Gratton if he wants. And you, Steve Jarrold, Ben Gaynor isn't here, but just the same you can take it from me that neither you nor any other of Swen Brodie's hangdogs is wanted in Ben Gaynor's house. Out you go." Jarrold's eyes slanted off to Gratton. Then, seeing himself ignored and forgotten, he shrugged his shoulders, pulled on his hat, and went out. Behind him, arm in arm, one smiling widely and the other pulling back and still sputtering, went Jim and the "judge."