Brand Williams tried to change the subject, for shrewd reasons of his own, but Collie flamed up instantly. "I got a little saved up," he said; "mebby eight hundred. She's yours if you dast to walk a horse, comin' or goin', over that drift that Red took on the jump. Are you game?"
"I'm not on the bet," replied Saunders. "So Overland Red is a friend of yours, eh?"
"Overland Red could ride where you dassent to walk and drag a halter," asserted Collie. Then he relapsed to silence, a little ashamed in that he had been trapped into showing temper.
Williams the taciturn astonished the bunk-house by adding: "The kid is right. Red could outride most men. I was his pal once, down in Sonora. There ain't a better two-gun artist livin'." And the lean foreman looked pointedly at Saunders.
Saunders smiled evilly. He had reason to believe that Williams had spoken the truth.
A few weeks later, Williams, returning unexpectedly to the bunk-house, found Saunders changing his shirt preparatory to a ride to town. The rest of the boys were already on their way to the Oro Rancho across the valley. Williams saw two puckered scars, each above the elbow on Saunders's bared arms.
"That was dam' good shootin'," said the foreman, indicating the other's scarred arms.
"Fair," said Saunders gruffly.
"Takes a gun-artist to put a man out of business that way and not finish him," said Williams, smiling.