He reached into his pocket, brought forth a fountain pen, held it up and said: "One moment of your time to bring to your attention this article, known from coast to coast, indispensable to any man, woman or child, which we are introducing for the purposes of further advertising at a trifling price, which--" "Who the devil sent you here?" demanded Hilton, advancing. The Reverend lowered his hand and blinked through his spectacles. "I do not recall that I came from that black deity," he replied mildly. "My feet are directed from Above,"--gesturing. "I have been called upon--" "Now you're called upon to get out. Understand? Get out!" "Brother, is it possible that you are not interested in this article? Made of pure India rubber--" "You heard me! Get out!" cried Hilton. For a moment the Reverend stood, as though undecided. "I am sorry," he said, "that I can not interest you. If not today, then another time, perhaps? A splendid gift for a lady, my friend, a--" "Nobody here wants to listen to you. Be on your way!" Sorrowfully the Reverend replaced the pen in his pocket, rattling it against the remainder of his stock. As he turned away he drew them all out and stood for some time beside his horse, counting them carefully, muttering to himself. He looked about his feet, retraced his steps to where he had stood in his attempt to make a sale, scanning the ground. "Can it be," he asked absently, "that I have miscounted?" He gave no heed to the two who watched him but it was a matter of ten minutes before he was finally satisfied that there had been no loss--or that nothing else would be lost that day--and rode away. By that time Hilton's ill temper was implacable and in Bobby's face was a half frightened, bewildered look. She turned to the Easterner with a questioning little gesture but he did not respond. "He spoiled it for a while, Bobby," he said. "Let's ride back." CHAPTER XIX CONCERNING SAM MCKEE Webb was building biscuits and Hepburn was slicing a steak from the hind quarter of a carcass that a few days before had been an HC steer. McKee entered with an armful of wood. He dropped it into the box beside the stove with a clatter and went out again. He was whistling a doleful little tune, as a preoccupied man will whistle. His gray eyes were peculiarly grim and when he stopped whistling, his mouth set into determined lines. "What's got into him?" Webb asked. The other shrugged his shoulders. "He's changed in the last day or two. Wouldn't think he was the same man," Webb went on. "Do you think there's a chance...." It was unnecessary to finish the question for there was only one subject that these men discussed which called for the cautious tone which Webb had adopted. Hepburn chuckled scornfully. "Hell, no!" he said. "Sam's the last one to double-cross us, 'specially when Beck's on th' other side. "Somethin's got into him all right, but it ain't anything to hurt us. He's changed."