But it stung the stern-faced man before him to action, rapid and tense. He sprang forward with a low, savage exclamation, drawing one of his big weapons and jamming its muzzle deep into Masten's stomach. Then, holding it there, that the Easterner might not trick him, he ran his other hand over the frightened man's clothing, and found no weapon. Then he stepped back with a laugh, low, scornful, and bitter. The discovery that Masten was not armed seemed to drive his cold rage from him, and when he spoke again his voice was steely and contemptuous: "You can hit the breeze, I reckon--I ain't murderin' anybody. You're safe right now. But I'm tellin' you this: I'm lookin' for you, an' you don't run no blazer in on me no more! After this, you go heeled--or you hit the breeze out of the country. One of us has got to go. This country is too crowded with both of us!" Masten got on his pony, trembling so that he had trouble in getting his feet into the stirrups. He rode on, hundreds of yards, before he dared to turn, so great was his dread that to do so would be to bring upon him the wrath of the man who had spared him. But finally he looked around. He saw Randerson riding out into the darkness of the vast stretch of grass-land that lay to the south. CHAPTER XXII INTO WHICH A GIRL'S TROUBLE COMES Uncle Jepson and Aunt Martha had not seen Masten when he had visited Ruth, for they had gone in the buckboard to Red Rock. And Masten had departed when they reached home. Nor did they see Ruth after they arrived, for she had gone to bed. But at the breakfast table Ruth told them of the visit of Masten and of her plan to advance the date of the marriage. Uncle Jepson and Aunt Martha received the news in silence. Aunt Martha did manage to proffer a half-hearted congratulation, but Uncle Jepson wrinkled his nose, as he did always when displeased, and said nothing; and he ate lightly. Ruth did not notice that she had spoiled his appetite, nor did she note with more than casual interest that he left the table long before she or Aunt Martha. She did not see him, standing at the corral fence, scowling, and she could not hear the old-fashioned profanity that gushed from his lips. "Aren't you glad?" Ruth asked Aunt Martha when they were alone, for she had noted her relative's lack of enthusiasm. "Why, yes, honey," Aunt Martha smiled at her, though it seemed forced. "Only--" She hesitated eloquently. "Only what, Aunt Martha?" Ruth's voice was a little sharp, as with all persons who act in opposition to her better judgment and who resent anyone understanding them. "Only I was hoping it would be Randerson, my dear," said Aunt Martha gently. "Randerson!" Ruth's voice was scornful. But it sounded insincere to her, and she would trust it no further.