“You’ve told me all that,” said the girl. “But even if you could prove it, why Bart was only seventeen then.” “There’s places where they keep such naughty children,” the man pointed out. “Then he was into that Casa affair, when the station was burned.” This statement enabled Carver to identify the man whose voice had seemed vaguely familiar. It could be no other than Freel. “I’ve got a line on the whole past of the Lassiters,” Freel resumed. “Clear back prior to when the old man was alive. He’d be wanted too, on a dozen counts, if he was still above ground. You know what it is to have the law always barking at your door. If you take up with me folks would respect you. But any one in this whole country will tell you that Freel is a bad man to have on the other side. You don’t want me lined up against the Lassiters, girl.” Carver stepped to the door. Freel’s back was toward him but he could see the girl’s face. There was no trace of apprehension there, only distaste for the man before her. Her eyes widened with surprise as they met Carver’s and as she divined his purpose she made a move to station herself between the two men but Carver held up a hand to halt her. Freel had whirled to face the door when the girl’s face betrayed the presence of a third party. He recovered his self-confidence, shaken for the moment, with the discovery of the intruder’s identity. “Morning,” he greeted casually. “Any more wagers on your mind to-day?” “Yes,” said Carver. “Step outside. I’m going to make you another little bet.” He stepped aside as the marshal passed through the door, then followed and closed it behind him. “This wager’s not going to be in money,” Carver said. “If I lose I’ll look you up and explain to you what the stakes are. I’m betting that you don’t ever pass out any remarks about Bart Lassiter or his sister. The bridle’s off as far as the other two boys are concerned. You can go as far as you like with them.” Freel sized him up, sensing a new quality in the man before him, a certain tenseness which Carver concealed beneath the cloak of casual speech. “You drop out of this,” he advised. “I was offering to marry Miss Lassiter when you romped in.” “Offering to,” said Carver. “I thought maybe you was threatening to.” “Any girl of the Lassiter tribe ought to be damn glad of an opportunity to marry and live respectable,” Freel stated, and was instantly aware that he had made a grave mistake, for that quality which he had sensed in Carver was now quite openly apparent in his eyes. “So you’re going to make her respectable,” Carver said. “That’s real generous of you, I’d say. It’s rumored around that you set up to be a bad one. I just heard you confess it. Let’s see how wicked you can be when your badness all boils over.” He took a step toward Freel and the marshal backed away, reading Carver’s purpose in his eyes. “It’s never my policy to start a quarrel without good reason,” he announced.