One man laughed harshly. “You ain’t that ignorant, Flack. Here is a bill-of-sale, and we want yuh to sign it. Go ahead and read it--we can wait that long. Nobody knows yuh’re here, so take all the time yuh want.” Noise from the outside drifted into the place, but there was no sound from the other room, until Flack’s voice said: “Sorry, but I won’t sign this, gentlemen.” “Yuh won’t, eh? Listen, Flack--you sign it--or die here.” “And if I do sign it, I also die, eh?” “Oh, shore. But not here. You’ll just disappear.” “I don’t get the idea of this bill-of-sale.” “Still ignorant, eh? You fool! Why do yuh reckon we let yuh go ahead and build this place, and furnish it? We could have stopped yuh any time we wanted to, but we figured that we’d let you pay all the bills, get everythin’ all ready, and then we’d take it over. See the idea, Flack. The bill-of-sale is to Buck Smith? Names don’t mean anythin’, my friend. Go ahead and sign it.” “No!” snapped Flack. “If you intend killing me, why should I sign it? That would legalize the transfer. Go ahead.” IV That moment Streak Malone flung the door open. That is, he would have flung it open, but something caught under the door, blocking it half-open. A man ripped out a curse, and a bullet smashed into the door. At the same moment the other man crashed the lamp, throwing the place into darkness. Streak managed to force his way past the partly-opened door, clawed for the doorway into the saloon. He heard the men racing down the saloon to the door, but he was not able to orient himself enough to shoot in the dark. Then the front door banged shut, and the men were gone. Streak said, “Are yuh all right, Flack?” “Yes, I am all right, thanks to you, Malone. That was a close call. Let’s get the lamp from the bedroom.” The windows were covered, the door shut, when Streak lighted the lamp, and they looked at each other. Flack said, “You came just in time, Malone. He was pulling the trigger.” “Glad I did.” Streak smiled. “But I’m sorry the door stuck. Do yuh know either of them fellers, Flack?” Flack shook his head. “They were both masked,” he said. “Do yuh know Buck Smith?” “Oh, you mean the name on that bill-of-sale? No, I don’t. It was only a name. But we know why they let me go ahead with this place. Well, they’ve ruined their first attempt, Malone, thanks to you. I’ll go out the back way and get to the hotel. I don’t believe they’ll make another attempt tonight.” They went into the dark office and Jim Flack opened the back door. “I don’t know how to thank you, Malone,” he said. “Maybe I can make it up to you--some way.” “Forget that part of it,” said Streak. “Good luck.” Streak went back to the bedroom and examined the bullet hole in the door. That bullet hadn’t missed him by more than a scant few inches. In fact, it had blown splinters onto the blanket. He stretched out again, trying to figure out more angles, but went to sleep quickly.