"Gimme yore gun, butt first. Thanks. You work for Quigley?" The other nodded slowly. "Friend of this hombre?" "Yes; sort of." "Then why didn't you cut in?" "Why, I--I--" the other hesitated, and stopped. "Spit it!" "Well, I wasn't supposed to," coldly replied the horseman. "Then it was talked over?" "Not particular. Jim does his own fightin', hisself." "Good thing for Jim, an' you, too," retorted Johnny. "When it's crowded I can't allus be polite. Who put that sign on my door?" "What sign?" "_I_'m askin' _you_ questions!" snapped Johnny, his eyes blazing anew. "Dunno nothin' about it," answered the other. "I reckon yo're a practiced liar," retorted Johnny. "But it don't make no difference. I'm leavin' th' valley, for I can't fight pot-shooters an' do any work at th' same time. Quigley don't own this country, an' you tell him that while he's boss of that little valley, _I_'m boss in this town. If him or any of his men come to town while I'm here I'll shoot 'em down like I would a snake. That means one at a time or all together; an' if he don't believe me, you tell him I'll be here all day tomorrow. There ain't no bushes in town, an' none of yore gang can fight without 'em. Now you say to him that I don't want no remarks made about what I was doin' up there--you savvy that? If I hear of any I'll slip up there some night an' blow him all over his shirt. An' d--n you, I mean it!" Ackerman stirred and sat up, looking around in a dazed way. When his eyes fell on Johnny they lost their puzzled look and blazed again with rage. He reached swiftly to his holster, found it empty, and shrugged his shoulders. Johnny regarded him coldly. "Get on that cayuse, an' start goin'. This town ain't big enough for both of us at once." Ackerman silently obeyed, but his face was distorted with passion. When he had clawed himself into the saddle he looked down on the grim master of the situation. "Words are foolish," he whispered. "We'll meet again!" Johnny nodded. "I reckon so. Everybody plays their cards accordin' to their own judgment. Just now I got a high straight flush, so you hit th' trail, _pronto_!" He stepped aside to get out of the dust-cloud which suddenly swirled around him, and watched it roll northward until the dim figures in it were lost to sight around a bend. The slouch went out of his bearing as he straightened up and slid his gun into its holster, and walking over to Ackerman's glittering six-shooter he picked it up and sneered at it. "I ain't surprised," he laughed, eying the ivory handle and the ornate engraving. Wheeling abruptly he glanced carelessly at the grinning audience and strode to the door of Pop's saloon. "I'll be d--d!" sputtered Pop, his eyes still bulging. "Reckon you will," laughed Johnny, "unless you mends yore sinful ways." "What you been doin' to make Jim Ackerman pick a fight with you?" demanded Pop, recovering his faculties and his curiosity at the same instant.