“Them two men,” said Mack slowly, “are pretty bad characters, Streak. The tall one is Dan Corteen, and the other one is Monk Moore. They’re both killers. If you’d like to know, I’d say that the lady is in bad company.” “I’ve heard of both of them,” said Streak. “I wonder why they came to Silver Butte.” “Watch ’em,” advised Mack Shell. “You’ll find out that they’ll go straight to Zero Brant.” “Why would he import gunmen?” Mack Shell laughed. “You’ve seen the new saloon goin’ up over there. That’s Jim Flack’s place. A year ago Jim Flack owned the Sundance Saloon. Jim’s on the square, and he ran square games. Well, one night his place burned, and Jim Flack was shot. He was laid up for weeks. In the meantime Zero Brant built the Silver Dollar over the ashes of the Sundance. “The men will back Jim. Because he runs square games and don’t doctor his whisky, all the railroad men will come to his place. Zero Brant knows this--knows that if he starts trouble with the new Eureka Saloon, the men will back Jim Flack. That’s why Brant is gettin’ all the gunmen he can handle. With Jim Flack’s place runnin’, Zero Brant will go broke--and he knows it.” Streak smiled. “I reckon I bit off quite a chew, Mack.” “Yeah, and I flung in my lot on a bit of hot trouble, too. But I knew what I was doin’. You didn’t.” “You mean you’ll take the job?” asked Streak quickly. “Yeah, I reckon I’ve taken it, Streak. Yuh’re right--some day some decent folks might want to live here--folks with good women--and kids. I’d forgotten about things like that.” * * * * * Streak started to say something, but at that moment Zero Brant stepped into the doorway which was almost too small for his huge bulk. He looked sharply at Mack Shell, but spoke to Streak. “I’m Zero Brant,” he said. “Shell knows me. I understand that you are the new marshal of Silver Butte.” “That’s a fact,” replied Streak. “Not that it makes any difference, but what do you intend to do, Malone?” Streak’s jaw tightened at Brant’s open sarcasm but he replied civilly, “I’m goin’ to try and bring order and decency to this hell-hole of a town, Brant.” “Well!” snorted Brant. “That’s a fine way to speak of Silver Butte.” “Has it ever been anything else?” queried Streak. Zero Brant’s eyes shifted to Mack Shell, who seemed just a bit amused over the exchange of words. Brant said: “Where do you figure in this deal, Shell?” “I’m the deputy marshal, Brant. Just appointed.” “You? Well, of all the crazy--” “Your loop’s draggin’,” warned Shell coldly. “I’m the deputy, Brant, and it might be well to remember it.” “All right,” said Brant. “It just seemed--sure, it’s all right. Why not? I didn’t come over here to quarrel over the job, but I do want to make a complaint. After all, I’ve got rights.” “Complaint?” asked Streak curiously.