"Say yore prayers first, Mr. Man," gritted Atkins, lolling and mopping his face. "If he's half as good as his promise, you'll never git off alive!"
"Very likely," observed Bowles grimly. "You can let his foot down now."
"Hey! Git a move on!" yelled a cow-puncher up on the fence. "They's somebody comin' up the road!"
"Aw, let 'em come," drawled Atkins carelessly. "They're hurryin' up to see the show. Step up and look 'im over!" he grinned at Bowles. "No rush—you got lots of time!"
"Let his foot down!" snarled Bowles, his nerves giving way to anger. "I'm not——"
"It's Dix!" clamored the cow-puncher on the fence-top. "It's Dix!"
There was a rush for the fence to make certain, and as Dixie Lee dashed in through the horse lot, Hardy Atkins threw down his hat and cursed. Then he stood irresolute, gazing first at Bowles and then at the fence, until suddenly she slipped through the bars and came striding across the corral.
"Oho, Hardy Atkins," she panted, as she tapped at her boot with a quirt. "So this is what you were up to—riding horses while Dad went to town! Didn't he tell you to keep off that Dunbar horse? Well, then, you just——"
She paused as she sensed the tense silence, and then she saw Bowles, walking resolutely up to the horse. In a flash it all came clear to her—the feud, the fights, and now this compact to ride.
"Mr. Bowles!" she cried, raising her voice in a sudden command—but before she could get out the words Hardy Atkins laid his hand on her arm.