There! MacGonigal had said it! In a land where swearing is a science this Scoto-Hibernico-American had earned an enviable repute for the mildness of his expletives, and his "dang me!" was as noteworthy in Bison as its European equivalent in the mouth of a British archbishop. Power was immensely surprised by his bulky friend's emphatic earnestness, and cudgeled his brains to suggest a reasonable explanation. Suddenly it occurred to him a second time that Bison was singularly empty of inhabitants that day. MacGonigal's query with regard to a weapon was also significant, and he remembered that when he left the district there was pending a grave dispute between ranchers and squatters as to the inclosing of certain grazing lands on the way to the East and its markets. "Are the boys wire-cutting today?" he asked, in the accents of real concern; for any such expedition would probably bring about a struggle which might not end till one or both of the opposing parties ran short of ammunition. "Nit," growled the other. "Why argy? You jest take my say-so, Derry, an' skate." "Is the boss mixed up in this?" "Yep." "Well, he can take care of himself as well as anyone I know. So long, Mac. See you later." "Ah, come off, Derry. You've got to have it; but don't say I didn't try to help. The crowd are up at Dolores. Marten's gittin' married, an' that's all there is to it. Now I guess you'll feel mad with me for not tellin' you sooner." Power's face blanched under its healthy tan of sun and air; but his voice was markedly clear and controlled when he spoke, which, however, he did not do until some seconds after MacGonigal had made what was, for him, quite an oration. "Why should Marten go to Dolores to get married?" he said at last. The storekeeper humped his heavy shoulders, and conjured the cigar across his mouth again. He did not flinch under the sudden fire which blazed in Power's eyes; nevertheless, he remained silent. "Mac," went on the younger man, still uttering each word deliberately, "do you mean that Marten is marrying Nancy Willard?" "Yep." "And you've kept me here all this time! God in Heaven, Man, find me a horse!" "It's too late, Derry. They was wed three hours sence." "Too late for what? Get me a horse!" "There's not a nag left in Bison. An' it'll do you no sort of good ter shoot Marten." "Mac, you're no fool. He sent me to Sacramento to have me out of the way, and you've seen through it right along." "Maybe. But old man Willard was dead broke. This dry spell put him slick under the harrow. Nancy married Marten ter save her father."