Billy Winch sighed, and used his hand to remove his hat and then rumple his bristly hair. Then he laughed softly. His horse, restless and fiery and well-fed, whirled, and for the first time Lynette Brooke made out the reason for that strange, lopsided attitude in the saddle; the man, a little, weazened fellow, had lost his right leg above the knee and managed a sure seat only by throwing his weight upon his left stirrup and thus maintaining his balance. "Well," said Winch good-naturedly, "_he_ said to start off by shaking hands. Just to show as I _was_ friendly." "_He?_" repeated Deveril. "You mean Bruce Standing?" "Sure. Of course. When I just say _he_ I mean _him_." The girl sitting in the shadows smiled. Deveril, however, whose profile she could watch, appeared to have no good humor left to spend upon his caller. She marked how his voice hardened and how he bit off his words curtly. "I have no business with either Bruce Standing or with you." "Well," said Winch cheerfully, "here's the message: You're to meet him in half an hour or so at the Gallup House." For a moment Deveril was silent; then the girl heard his barely audible muttering and knew that under his breath he was roundly cursing the man who sent him a message like that. In another instant he flared out hotly, forgetful of her or ignoring her: "You go tell your Bruce Standing that I said that he is a land hog and a thief and a damn' fool, all rolled in one; and that I'll meet him nowhere this side of hell." Billy Winch chuckled as at the rarest of all jests. "I got a picture of _me_ going to _him_ with a mouthful like that! On the low-down level, Deveril, he means to be friendly, I think...." "Do your infernal thinking somewhere else," snapped Deveril angrily. "Clear out or I'll throw you out!" "I told him most likely you'd be sassy, so he won't be disappointed, I guess. Well, I'm travelling, so you don't have to mess your place all up throwing me off!" He was still chuckling good-naturedly as he swung his horse about with a light touch of the reins. Over his shoulder he called back: "He said it was important and he'd see you at Gallup's inside the hour!" The voice was taunting; Billy Winch threw his weight into his one stirrup, and even the attitude, though made necessary through his physical handicap, was vaguely irritating, so carelessly nonchalant did it appear. His horse bolted like a shot as he gave the signal and in a moment bore him out of sight among the shadows under the pines. Babe Deveril, hands on hips, stood staring after him. Then he swung about and came back to the cabin, and the girl on his door-step, seeing his face clearly in the candle-light streaming forth, caught her breath sharply at the outward sign she glimpsed of the rage burning high and hot in his breast. "I'm of half a mind to meet him after all and break his confounded neck!" he cried out, a passionate tremor in his voice.