“If those Company men made the same proposition to Montell,” he broke out suddenly, “that they made to me, it is ten to one that Montell stands ready to deliver the goods. That would account for the baldness of that play to-night.” “You think he did mean it, then?” I had so far given Montell the benefit of the doubt, despite a growing conviction that he had stumbled purposely. “Why, of course; that’s obvious, isn’t it?” Barreau declared. “You know he did. Else why did you move that gun after he’d very artfully contrived to point it my way?” “So you were watching him, after all?” said I. “I always watch him,” he answered drily. “I feel sure that he sees—or thinks he sees—the way clear, once I’m attended to,” Barreau continued. “I’ve been looking for this very thing. It came to me that day we struck the pack-trail. You remember? I started to tell you, and changed my mind.” I nodded. The incident was quite fresh in my memory—my juvenile egotism had received a bump on that very occasion. “It struck me with a sort of premonitory force, as I stood there looking at those mule tracks,” he went on, “that if the Company offered him the same terms they did me he would jump at it. They offered me forty thousand dollars to get out of the game, to give them a bill of sale of my interest—_and they would take care of my partner_. You see? Now I’m satisfied they wouldn’t incorporate that last clause in any offer to Montell. I’m not boasting when I say that from the beginning I’ve been the thorn in the Company’s flesh. Every time they’ve locked horns with me, I’ve come out on top. They might offer him forty thousand, but he’d have to guarantee them against me. And I think that performance to-night is a sample of how he will try to clear the way.” “To put it baldly,” I said. “You think he’ll kill you out of hand—if he gets a chance to do it in a way that won’t prove a boomerang?” “Exactly,” Barreau observed. “Then,” I suggested, and even as the words were on my tongue I stood amazed at the ruthless streak they seemed to uncover, “why not catch him at it—and do the killing yourself. There’s no law here to restrain _him_, apparently. Be your own law—if you know you’re _right_.” “I can’t.” Barreau muttered. “Not that my conscience would ever trouble me. He’s protected in a way he doesn’t dream of. And he’s too wary of me to lay himself liable. If anything happens it will be an accident; you know how it would have been to-night. You, sitting right there, could not have declared it otherwise, no matter what your private opinion might have been. He has pretty well calculated the chances. No, Mr. Montell is not going to put himself in any position where I’d be clearly justified in snuffing him out.” For a minute or so he sat silent, frowning at the candle on the table between my bunk and his.