Beyond the slight curl of the lips the latter gave no indication of feeling. And after the exchange of glances he resumed eating, apparently unaware of Leviatt's existence. Later, the men straggled from the bunkhouse, seeking the outdoors to smoke and talk. Upon the bench just outside the door several of the men sat; others stood at a little distance, or lounged in the doorway. With Rope, Ferguson had come out and was standing near the door, talking. The talk was light, turning to trivial incidents of the day's work--things that are the monotony of the cowboy life. Presently Leviatt came out and joined the group. He stood near Ferguson, mingling his voice with the others. For a little time the talk flowed easily and much laughter rose. Then suddenly above the good natured babble came a harsh word. Instantly the other voices ceased, and the men of the group centered their glances upon the range boss, for the harsh word had come from him. He had been talking to a man named Tucson and it was to the latter that he had now spoken. "There's a heap of rattlers in this country," he had said. Evidently the statement was irrelevant, for Tucson's glance at Leviatt's face was uncomprehending. But Leviatt did not wait for an answer. "A man might easily claim to have been bit by one of them," he continued, his voice falling coldly. The men of the group sat in a tense silence, trying to penetrate this mystery that had suddenly silenced their talk. Steady eyes searched out each face in an endeavor to discover the man at whom the range boss was talking. They did not discover him. Ferguson stood near Leviatt, an arm's length distant, his hands on his hips. Perhaps his eyes were more alert than those of the other men, his lips in a straighter line. But apparently he knew no more of this mystery than any of the others. And now Leviatt's voice rose again, insolent, carrying an unmistakable personal application. "Stafford hires a stray-man," he said, sneering. "This man claims to have been bit by a rattler an' lays up over night in Ben Radford's cabin--makin' love to Mary Radford." Ferguson turned his head slightly, surveying the range boss with a cold, alert eye. "A little while ago," he said evenly, "I heard a man inside tellin' about some of the boys learnin' their lessons from a girl over on Bear Flat. I reckon, Leviatt, that you've been over there to learn your'n. An' now you've got to let these boys know----!" Just a rustle it was--a snake-like motion. And then Ferguson's gun was out; its cold muzzle pressed deep into the pit of Leviatt's stomach, and Ferguson's left hand was pinning Leviatt's right to his side, the range boss's hand still wrapped around the butt of his half-drawn weapon. Then came Ferguson's voice again, dry, filled with a quiet earnestness: "I ain't goin' to hurt you--you're still tenderfoot with a gun. I just wanted to show these boys that you're a false alarm. I reckon they know that now."