There was another instant silence, and again it was Soapy that lifted it. “I expaict you’ll like Wyoming, Miss Messiter; leastways I hope you will. There’s a right smart of country here.” His gaze went out of the open door to the vast sea of space that swam in the fine sunset light. “Yes, most folks that ain’t plumb spoilt with city ways likes it.” “Sure she’ll like it. Y’u want to get a good, easy-riding hawss, Miss Messiter,” advised Slim. “And a rifle,” added Texas, promptly. It occurred to her that they were all working together to drift the conversation back to a safe topic. She followed the lead given her, but she made up her mind to know what it was about her neighbor, Mr. Bannister, the sheep herder, that needed to be handled with such wariness and circumspection of speech. Her chance came half an hour later, when she stood talking to the landlady on the hotel porch in the mellow twilight that seemed to rest on the land like a moonlit aura. For the moment they were alone. “What is it about this man Bannister that makes men afraid to speak of him?” she demanded, with swift impulse. Her landlady’s startled eyes went alertly round to see that they were alone. “Hush, child! You mustn’t speak of him like that,” warned the older woman. “Why mustn’t I? That’s what I want to know.” “Is isn’t healthy.” “What do you mean?” Again that anxious look flashed round in the dusk. “The Bannister outfit is the worst in the land. Ned Bannister is king of the whole Big Horn country and beyond that to the Tetons.” “And you mean to tell me that everybody is afraid of him—that men like Mr. Sothern dare not say their soul is their own?” the newcomer asked, contemptuously. “Not so loud, child. He has spies everywhere That’s the trouble. You don’t know who is in with him. He’s got the whole region terrified.” “Is he so bad?” “He is a devil. Last year he and his hell riders swept down on Topaz and killed two bartenders just to see them kick, Ned Bannister said. Folks allow they knew too much.” “But the law—the Government? Haven’t you a sheriff and officers?” “Bannister has. He elects the sheriff in this county.” “Aren’t there more honest people here than villains?” “Ten times as many, but the trouble is that the honest folks can’t trust each other. You see, if one of them made a mistake and confided in the wrong man—well, some fine day he would go riding herd and would not turn up at night. Next week, or next month, maybe, one of his partners might find a pile of bones in an arroyo. “Have you ever seen this Bannister?” “You _must_ speak lower when you talk of him, Miss Messiter,” the woman insisted. “Yes, I saw him once; at least I think I did. Mighty few folks know for sure that they have seen him. He is a mystery, and he travels under many names and disguises.” “When was it you think you saw him?”