Tall and muscular, with deep cruel lines written on his face, Jim Haley the foreman turned and looked at the man in question.
“Oh, about a month, I reckon,” he replied, glancing quizzically at his chief.
The answer set Ricker’s brows to knitting.
“Jim, I want you to watch Jean Barry,” he said sharply, as though coming to a sudden decision. “He’s the last man we took on and hasn’t been with us long enough to be trusted too far. As for this man MacNutt, keep your eye on him also. He claimed to the guard that he isn’t friendly with the Bar X outfit and has a grievance against them. I can’t just make him out, and I want you to trail him after he leaves here and find out just what his standing is at Bar X. Jean took up with him mighty sudden, and I don’t like the looks of it. Look sharp now, and make your report to me in the morning.”
At the curt dismissal Jim Haley moved off while his chief mingled with the men and directed the rules of the target practice. MacNutt was ignorant of what had taken place and was calmly looking his guns over.
Jean Barry pressed close to him at this moment.
“Watch out for Jim Haley, the man that Ricker was just talking to,” he hissed in his ear.
MacNutt made no answer to his friend’s warning as the shoot had now commenced. The first contestants were leading off with revolver practice. The targets were set at seventy-five yards and each man was to fire six shots apiece. The men fired in turn, each scoring fair hits, until Ricker and Jim Haley’s turn came. When they had fired six shots apiece it was seen that they had each scored bull’s-eyes, and both had one shot on the extreme edge of the bull’s-eye. Ricker looked at his foreman.
“Guess we’ve got to shoot this one over, Jim,” he called, a trifle nettled.
He was conceded the best shot on the ranch, and it bothered his vanity to have his mark equalled. The marker was closely examining the targets.