Gary was up at the corral rubbing down the chunky little sorrel horse he called Jazz, when he heard the chug of a motor coming up-grade through the sand. James Blaine Hawkins, he knew without looking, had discounted his terror of last night and was returning to take possession. “Well, Jazz, if I get the gate, there’s your new master.” Gary slapped the horsefly that was just settling on the sorrel’s neck. “But I won’t tell you good-by till I’m gone.” He turned and went down to the cabin, reaching it just as James Blaine Hawkins stopped in the dooryard. Gary chose to take the return as a matter of course. “Had your breakfast, Mr. Hawkins?” Gary asked him genially. “The coffee may still be hot. I had a pretty good fire while I was washing the dishes. Thought I’d cook up a mess of beans. Takes a heck of a while to cook them in this altitude.” James Blaine Hawkins gave him a look that might easily be called suspicious. But Gary met it innocently. “I’ve et,” James Blaine Hawkins grunted. “Camped out on the desert--better than walking distance away from whoever it was that tried to get funny last night. Feller don’t know what he’s going up against, in a strange place like that after dark. But there can’t nobody bamboozle me, once I’ve got my bearings!” His whole manner was a challenge. He eyed Gary boldly, watching for some overt act of hostility. He climbed out of the car and began to unpack, with a great deal of fussing and mighty little accomplished. Gary did not say anything. He leaned against the cabin with his arms folded and watched James Blaine Hawkins indifferently. His silence affected the other unpleasantly. “Well, why don’t you say something? What yuh standin’ there grinnin’ that way for? Why don’t yuh own up you know a damn sight more’n what yuh let on?” he demanded pugnaciously. James Blaine Hawkins came toward him, his fists opening and closing nervously at his side. “I ain’t to be bluffed, you know! I ain’t to be bluffed _nor_ scared!” Gary’s lip curled. He rubbed the ash from his cigarette against a splinter on the log wall beside him. “You’re brighter than I thought,” he drawled. “I _do_ know a damn sight more than I’m saying. I’ll say as much of what I know as I happen to choose. No more--and bullying won’t get you anything at all. I might have told you a few things last night, if you hadn’t got scared and beat it.” “Scared? Who was scared?” fleered James Blaine Hawkins. “Not me, anyway. I seen right away there was some kind of frame-up agin me here and I didn’t want no trouble. Any fool can go head down into trouble, but a man uh brains’ll side-step till he knows what he’s up against.” “Well,” smiled Gary, “do you know what you’re up against?” “Sure, I know! For some reason, somebody don’t want me here. They tried to scare me last night--but I seen through that right off.” “Yes, you saw more than I did,” Gary told him quietly.