“Don’t preach to me!” he snapped. “I’m forgettin’ things like that. I ain’t backin’ Zero Brant, if that helps yuh any.” “It doesn’t help enough,” said Streak. “You’re a man with a rep, Mack Shell, and I need yore help.” “My help?” Mack Shell laughed harshly. “I don’t understand that remark, Malone. What do yuh mean?” “I want you to act as my deputy.” For a moment the outlaw stared at Streak, his jaw sagging. “You--what?” he gasped. “Deputy? Are you plumb crazy?” “No, I’m perfectly sane.” * * * * * Mack Shell laughed again and began making another cigarette. It was a preposterous idea. Living for years, only a jump ahead of the law, and now-- “I’d be a bust as an officer,” he said. “Mack Shell, deputy marshal--a lawman! What made yuh ask me, Malone?” “I need an honest man.” “Honest man? Malone, don’t you know my rep?” Streak Malone smiled slowly. “You may be a rustler and horse-thief, Mack Shell,” he said. “I don’t know. A man told me that you never broke your word. I have my own code of honesty, and maybe it conflicts with the law, too. I don’t care about yore rep. I want you to act as my deputy.” Mack Shell didn’t smile now. He looked closely at Streak, his brow furrowed. The stage from Whitewater was coming in, ploughing through the dust, pulling up at the stage-depot, only a short distance from where Streak and Mack were standing. Two men got out of the stage, and one of them turned to assist a woman to alight. They exchanged a few words, after which the man picked up the baggage belonging to the woman. They talked for a moment with the driver, who directed them to the hotel, and they came down past the office. One of the men was tall and swarthy, well-dressed, while the other man was short, long-armed, broad of shoulder, with the face of an ape. His head was rather round, small eyes, deep-set on either side of a broad nose, and with the widest mouth Streak and Mack had ever seen. When he laughed at some remark of his companion, one expected to see canine teeth. The woman, slightly over-dressed and wearing a huge picture-hat, was beautiful, except that she wore too much paint and powder. The woman turned her head and looked straight at Streak as she walked past with the two men. For a moment her eyes snapped wide in amazement or horror. She stumbled into one of the men and might have fallen had not the ape-like one grasped her quickly. Then they went on to the hotel entrance. Streak and Mack looked at each other curiously. “That lady must have known you, Streak,” Mack said. Streak shook his head, his brow furrowed. “I never saw her before in my life, Mack. What went wrong with her? Do I look that bad? She looked scared to death.” “Kind of funny,” mused Streak. “Maybe you look like the husband she ran away from.” Streak laughed and shook his head. “It beats me,” he said.