Her scornful eyes burned him. “You came to tell me that, did you? Well, I don’t believe a word of it. I’ll not yield my rights without a fight. You may depend on that.” “Here, too,” nodded her foreman. “I’m with my boss clear down the line. And as soon as she lets me turn loose my six-gun, you’ll hear it pop, seh.” “I have not a doubt of it, Mr. McWilliams,” returned the sheepman blithely. “In the meantime I was going to say that though most of my interests are in sheep instead of cattle—” “I thought most of your interests were in other people’s property,” interrupted the young woman. “It goes into sheep ultimately,” he smiled. “Now, what I am trying to get at is this: I’m in debt to you a heap, Miss Messiter, and since I’m not all yellow cur, I intend to play fair with you. I have ordered my sheep back across the deadline. You can have this range to yourself for your cattle. The fight’s off so far as we personally are concerned.” A hint of deeper color touched her cheeks. Her manner had been cavalier at best; for the most part frankly hostile; and all the time the man was on an errand of good-will. Certainly he had scored at her expense, and she was ashamed of herself. “Y’u mean that you’re going to respect the deadline? asked Mac in surprise. “I didn’t say quite that,” explained the sheepman. “What I said was that I meant to keep on my side of it so far as the Lazy D cattle are concerned. I’ll let your range alone.” “But y’u mean to cross it down below where the Bar Double-E cows run?” Bannister’s gay smile touched the sardonic face. “Do you invite the public to examine your hand when you sit into a game of poker, Mr. McWilliams?” “You’re dead right. It’s none of my business what y’u do so long as y’u keep off our range,” admitted the foreman. “And next time the conversation happens on Mr. Bannister, I’ll put in my little say-so that he ain’t all black.” “That’s very good of you, sir,” was the other’s ironical retort. The girl’s gauntleted hand offered itself impulsively. “We can’t be friends under existing circumstances, Mr. Bannister. But that does not alter the fact that I owe you an apology. You came as a peace envoy, and one of my men shot at you. Of course, he did not understand the reason why you came, but that does not matter. I did not know your reason myself, and I know I have been very inhospitable.” “Are you shaking hands with Ned Bannister the sheepman or Ned Bannister the outlaw?” asked the owner of that name, with a queer little smile that seemed to mock himself. “With Ned Bannister the gentleman. If there is another side to him I don’t know it personally.” He flushed underneath the tan, but very plainly with pleasure. “Your opinions are right contrary to Hoyle, ma’am. Aren’t you aware that a sheepman is the lowest thing that walks? Ask Mr. McWilliams.” “I have known stockmen of that opinion, but—”