It hurt Duane to look at Laramie. He was white, and tears rolled down his cheeks. Duane saw the bitterness, the defeat, the agony of the man. He had failed to meet his obligations; nevertheless, he had been swindled. All that he suppressed, all that would have been passion had the man's spirit not been broken, lay bare for Duane to see. He had now the secret of his bitterness. But the reason he did not openly accuse Longstreth, the secret of his reticence and fear--these Duane thought best to try to learn at some later time. “Hard luck! It certainly was tough,” Duane said. “But you're a good loser. And the wheel turns! Now, Laramie, here's what. I need your advice. I've got a little money. But before I lose it I want to invest some. Buy some stock, or buy an interest in some rancher's herd. What I want you to steer me on is a good square rancher. Or maybe a couple of ranchers, if there happen to be two honest ones. Ha, ha! No deals with ranchers who ride in the dark with rustlers! I've a hunch Fairdale is full of them. Now, Laramie, you've been here for years. Sure you must know a couple of men above suspicion.” “Thank God I do,” he replied, feelingly. “Frank Morton an' Si Zimmer, my friends an' neighbors all my prosperous days, an' friends still. You can gamble on Frank and Si. But if you want advice from me--don't invest money in stock now.” “Why?” “Because any new feller buyin' stock these days will be rustled quicker 'n he can say Jack Robinson. The pioneers, the new cattlemen--these are easy pickin' for the rustlers. Lord knows all the ranchers are easy enough pickin'. But the new fellers have to learn the ropes. They don't know anythin' or anybody. An' the old ranchers are wise an' sore. They'd fight if they--” “What?” Duane put in, as he paused. “If they knew who was rustling the stock?” “Nope.” “If they had the nerve?” “Not thet so much.” “What then? What'd make them fight?” “A leader!” “Howdy thar, Jim,” boomed a big voice. A man of great bulk, with a ruddy, merry face, entered the room. “Hello, Morton,” replied Laramie. “I'd introduce you to my guest here, but I don't know his name.” “Haw! Haw! Thet's all right. Few men out hyar go by their right names.” “Say, Morton,” put in Duane, “Laramie gave me a hunch you'd be a good man to tie to. Now, I've a little money and before I lose it I'd like to invest it in stock.” Morton smiled broadly. “I'm on the square,” Duane said, bluntly. “If you fellows never size up your neighbors any better than you have sized me--well, you won't get any richer.” It was enjoyment for Duane to make his remarks to these men pregnant with meaning. Morton showed his pleasure, his interest, but his faith held aloof. “I've got some money. Will you let me in on some kind of deal? Will you start me up as a stockman with a little herd all my own?”