"Well?" said Casey.
"Do it," said Cross. "Hike—meanin' you, understand, and not the lady. She's plumb welcome to ride where she likes. I savvy your game, Dunne. You ain't got nerve enough to ride out here alone, and you bring a woman with you to play safe."
Casey paled with anger beneath his tan. "Mr. Cross," he said quietly, "that goes—because the lady is with me. But I rather think one of us will stay in this country a long time."
"Cheap bluff," Cross sneered. "You ain't goin' to prospect round these ditches, linin' them up for powder. Come here alone, and I'll make you eat the sights off of my gun."
Casey laughed softly—with him most dangerous of signs.
"Mr. Cross, you really amuse me. I won't argue the point just now. Later, perhaps. Good evening."
Clyde had listened in amazement. Once more she had experienced the sensation of standing on the brink of tragedy. Once more it had failed to occur.
"And that's one of the gunmen," said Casey. "That's what we have been putting up with. I think it will have to stop."
"Don't get into any trouble," she begged. "Promise me you won't. What do you care what men like that say?"
"I'm partly human," he replied grimly. "I can stand as much as most men, but there are some things I won't stand. I'm not going to climb a tree for any man. However, I won't crowd things with Cross, though I know plenty of men that would, on that provocation. I'm all for peace and a quiet life. You won't think I'm afraid, I hope."