“You ain’t got a chance in the world, unless you could prove Mark was actually stealin’,” he gave his opinion. “Thatcher’ll swear black is white an’ white’s no color at all. Gosh, Robin, I wish you hadn’t got Steele.” “If I’d ’a’ known you’d back water in a pinch maybe I wouldn’t,” Robin said slowly. “He didn’t steal my calves. I could ’a’ let it slide. I could ’a’ told Shinin’ Mark I was deaf, dumb, an’ blind about what went on on this range, and he would have left me alone. You’re a poor stick, Mayne.” “I ain’t either. I’m as game as the next,” Mayne retorted. “But I can go broke on lawyers an’ witnesses a whole lot quicker than Adam Sutherland, an’ get put outa business besides. It’s all right for you wild kids to rip an’ tear regardless. It’s took me thirty years to collect a thousand head of cattle an’ a home.” He strode up and down the bare floor mumbling to himself. Robin sat thinking. He would have to go on the dodge. If he stood pat he would be under arrest within forty-eight hours. Mayne was frightened. He could see that. The old man wanted only to wash his hands of the whole business. Ivy came to the door and beckoned. Robin sitting with downcast eyes did not notice. She came in, looked from one to the other. “What’s wrong now?” she demanded. “Somethin’ is.” “This crazy kid has gone an’ killed Mark Steele,” Mayne flared up. “We’re tryin’ to figure what he’d better do.” “I’ll do my own figurin’,” Robin said tartly. He had already made up his mind. “I’m goin’ to eat an’ ride. You can rest easy. I won’t mix you up in no big trial.” Ivy stood as if petrified. When Robin put out his hand to her she shrank. “So--oh,” he breathed. “It jars you like that, does it?” and walked past her into the kitchen. His food was on the table. He set himself to eat. It might be a long stretch between meals, he thought grimly. But beyond a bit of bread and meat and a cup of coffee food seemed to choke him. He was calm enough. He had no more regret than he would have had at crushing a snake’s ugly head under his boot heel. But he quivered inside. He sat alone by the table listening to the mutter of voices in the other room. He had played the game. Because he had played a desperate trump to take the winning trick, he must lose. He felt that. Mayne most of all feared for his security as a little cowman tolerated in the heart of a cattle king’s domain. Ivy--he couldn’t make her out. Something seemed to be slowly freezing inside Robin. Ivy came out of the other room at last and stood looking at him as he rolled a cigarette and lit it, nursing his chin in one palm as he blew smoke. “It’s awful, Robin,” she sighed. “I wish I’d never gone to that dance. What’ll you do?” “Hit the trail,” he answered. Ivy stood still. She didn’t offer to kiss him. She seemed deep in some consideration which had, Robin felt forlornly, very little to do with him. “Will you go with me?” Some obscure impulse prompted the question. “I might never come back.”