"Now, what's the news, Mr. Johnson?" spoke up Meshackatee abruptly. "Who's over at the Scarborough place now?" "Why--er--Elmo," began the store-keeper, "and Miz Zoolah, of course----" "Where's Isham?" demanded Meshackatee, and the others stopped to listen, but Johnson only shook his head. "He's gone," he said, and Meshackatee drew his big six-shooter and laid it down impressively in the lamp-light. "Gone where?" he asked, but not even the gun could make the frightened store-keeper tell. "I don't know, boy, I swear it," he answered as they faced him, "but they say he's over in New Mexico. Been gone for a week, and now that Red is dead, young Elmo has taken things in charge." "How many men has he got?" inquired Grimes, moving closer, and the store-keeper backed away instinctively. "Oh, a great many!" he exclaimed. "Sometimes as much as forty. They're coming in all the time. This evening there were two all the way from Kentucky----" "What were their names?" broke in Hall, and the store-keeper winced. "Why--er--Randolph," he said, "and, now that you speak of it, I believe they were inquiring for you." "Very likely," replied Hall, and slipped quietly outside, where he could think what this meant to him. And so Allifair's brothers had come! The feud of Tug Fork had been transplanted to Maverick Basin--the Randolphs had come to kill him. He stood in the shadows, looking out across the plain to where the lights of the Rock House still glowed. It was too late now; he had lost. Cal and Ewing were there, and as soon as they learned the country they would take up his trail like bloodhounds. They would follow him like a deer and like a deer he must flee, for Allifair loved her brothers. Bloody-handed as they were, and rough and brutal, she loved Cal and Ewing for what they might have been if the feud had not warped their whole lives. They were man-killers now, thin-lipped and cruel-eyed, and yet he dared not oppose them. Once more he must play the coward. While the others lingered on, indulging in a few drinks and cross-questioning the reluctant Mr. Johnson, he sorted out a pack-load of the most substantial food and lashed it on his spare horse. He was mounting to go when Winchester Bassett stepped out, followed by Bill, carrying a big sack of food. "W'y hello," exclaimed Winchester, "are you going to leave us? We're going up north and lay for Isham." "Yes, I've got to go," said Hall, "but don't tell the store-keeper. The Randolphs have come out here to kill me." "I had an idee they had," admitted Winchester. "Well, sorry to see you go. But say, wait a minute and you can start off with me and Bill--that storekeeper is a Scarborough spy."