He had no word of greeting for any man of them; after his characteristic coldly insolent way, he appeared to ignore them utterly. On the instant he, rather than Mexicali Joe, became the central object of interest. Most knew who he was and what he stood for, and wherein his visit among them was to be regarded as worthy of interest; those who did not know, marked the hush which greeted him, and in lowered voices demanded the explanation which, in voices equally low, was briefly given. They looked for him to draw rein at Gallup's and swing down and go in. But, knowing that you could never be sure of him, they watched to see. He disappointed them. That, in itself, was like him. No doubt he got his bit of glee out of knowing that, where they had looked to him for one thing, he had given them another. He rode on by Gallup's without turning his head. Where a tree grew at the road-crossing he dismounted, tying his horse. They saw that his rifle was in its scabbard, slung to the saddle; he left it where it was, and went forward on foot. Bigger than ever he loomed among them, appearing to walk leisurely, yet taking the long, measured strides which carried him along swiftly. They let him go on his way, their eyes following him with growing interest, some of the more curious of the crowd stringing along in his wake. And all this time no man had given him the time of day, and he had not opened his lips. Meanwhile they saw him turn his head this way and that, as though he sought something. Before he had gone fifty paces he found what he wanted. A man was piling wood on his fire; the axe which he had used a moment ago lay on the ground, glinting in the firelight. Bruce Standing stooped and caught it up and went on--straight toward the jail. A sudden shout from many voices burst out; men came running to see, now that they understood what he meant to do. And those about the jail, when they saw, drew back to right and left hurriedly, leaving only the deputy with the rifle across his arm to block the way. Now, the axe could mean only one thing in the world, and the deputy saw it, and saw who it was that carried it and called out a sharp, throaty warning. Standing came on, his stride quickened. He was not a dozen steps away, carrying his axe lightly in his right hand. The deputy jerked his rifle up, the butt to his shoulder, shouting: "Stop, or...."