“Then you really accused Mark of being a thief? It wasn’t just an angry taunt, an insult?” she challenged. “You seem mighty curious about that,” Robin neither denied nor admitted. “I am. Because if you know that to be true you would be a fool to risk your life in a clash with a man who is deadly with a gun, cold-blooded enough to shoot you and laugh about it. Let the law deal with him. There is law, and officers with authority to deal with a cattle thief. I wondered if there wasn’t more in this trouble than just--just----” “Just a row over a girl,” Robin finished the sentence grimly. “Well you’re right. There is. She was only dragged in to make the play strong. I didn’t drag her in. Anyway, I don’t want to discuss it any more. It’s gone past the talkin’ stage.” May looked down at him with a troubled air. “I suppose you don’t thank me for interesting myself in your affairs,” she said. “But I’d much rather see Mark Steele dead or in jail, than you.” “So would I. A darned sight rather,” Robin’s old humor flashed once through the cloud of gloom. “I’d be tickled to death to have him on the inside looking out. Maybe you will.” “Dad is in the store. He told me to tell you he wanted to speak to you,” May said abruptly. “Good-by--and good luck.” “Same to you,” Robin returned. “Only you don’t need no luck wish. You got all there is.” “Perhaps my luck doesn’t take in as much territory as you think,” May said over her shoulder as she walked away. Robin watched her pass through the picket fence that enclosed the white cottage and its square of green and he wondered idly what she meant. Then he remembered Sutherland wanted to speak to him. About what? When Adam Sutherland expressed a desire to speak to a cow-puncher it was in the nature of a royal command. Robin was no subject of this cattle king’s, but he had sufficient respect for Sutherland to heed the request--as a matter of courtesy, if nothing more. Sutherland still occupied his big armchair. “You wanted to see me?” “Yeah. Sit down.” Sutherland indicated another chair. “I want to give you some advice.” “Seems like I’m gettin’ a heap of advice, one way and another, this afternoon,” Robin observed dryly. “Mine won’t do you no harm,” Sutherland rumbled. “You’re young and by all accounts you sure got a temper. I don’t criticize you for that. I was that way myself once. But it ain’t healthy, no more. Now about this trouble between you and Mark Steele--forget it. There’s no sense in you two shootin’ each other up. You said a lot of nasty things down in Monty’s place. You made a bad break when you promised to kill Mark. You won’t want to, once you’ve slept on that. Nobody’s goin’ to question your nerve. I knew your father by reputation, and your folks in the South. Blood counts in men same as it does in stock. You don’t have to feel you got to shoot it out. Mark’ll drop it if you will.” “Has he said so?” Robin asked. “No,” Sutherland admitted. “But I know he will.”