The sunlight flashed on Dakota's pistol as it leaped from his right hand to his left and was bolstered with a jerk. And with the same motion his clenched fist was jammed with savage force against Duncan's lips, cutting short the slanderous words and sending him in a heap to the dust of the corral yard. With a cry of rage Duncan grasped for his pistol and drew it out, but the hand holding it was stamped violently into the earth, the arm bent and twisted until the fingers released the weapon. And then Dakota stood over him, looking down at him with narrowed, chilling eyes, his face white and hard, his anger gone as quickly as it had come. He said no word while Duncan clambered awkwardly to his feet and mounted his horse. [Illustration: DUNCAN GRASPED FOR HIS PISTOL, BUT THE HAND HOLDING IT WAS STAMPED VIOLENTLY INTO THE EARTH.] "I'm telling you something," he said quietly, as Duncan lifted the reins with his uninjured hand, turning his horse to depart. "You and me have never hitched very well and there isn't any chance of us ever falling on each other's necks. I think what I've done to you about squares us for that calf deal. I've been yearning to hand you something before you left the country, but I didn't expect you'd give me the chance in just this way. I'm warning you that the next time you shove your coyote nose into my business I'll muss it up some. That applies to Miss Sheila. If I ever hear of you getting her name on your dirty tongue again I'll tear you apart. I reckon that's all." He drew his pistol and balanced it in his right hand. "It makes me feel some reckless to be talking to you," he added, a glint of intolerance in his eyes. "You'd better travel before I change my mind. "You don't need to mention this to Miss Sheila," he said mockingly, as Duncan urged his horse away from the corral gate; "just let her go on--thinking you're a man." CHAPTER IX STRICTLY BUSINESS For two or three quiet weeks Sheila did not see much of Duncan, and her father bothered her very little. Several nights on the gallery of the ranchhouse she had seen the two men sitting very close together, and on one or two occasions she had overheard scraps of conversation carried on between them in which Doubler's name was mentioned. She remembered Doubler as one of the nesters whom Duncan had mentioned that day on the butte overlooking the river, and though her father and Duncan had a perfect right to discuss him, it seemed to Sheila that there had been a serious note in their voices when they had mentioned his name. She had become acquainted with Doubler. Since discontinuing her rides with her father and Duncan she had gone out every day alone, though she was careful to avoid any crossing in the river which looked the least suspicious. Such crossings as she could ford were few, and for that reason she was forced to ride most of the time to the Two Forks, where there was an excellent shallow, with long slopes sweeping up to the plains on both sides.