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"I've got no kick coming, thank you," said Fraser.

"Good!"

The sheriff relapsed into sombre silence. There was a troubled

look in the keen eyes that the Texan did not understand. Fraser

waited for the officer to develop the object of his visit, and it

was set down to his credit. A weaker man would have rushed at

once into excuses and explanations. But in the prisoner's quiet,

steely eyes, in the close-shut mouth and salient jaw, in the set

of his well-knit figure, Sheriff Brandt found small room for

weakness. Whoever he was, this man was one who could hold his own

in the strenuous game of life.

"My friend," said the sheriff abruptly, "you and I are up against

it. There is going to be trouble in town to-night."

The level, gray eyes looked questioningly at the sheriff.

"You butted into grief a-plenty when you lined up with the

cattlemen in this sheep war. Who do you ride for?"

"I'm not riding for anybody," responded Fraser. "I just arrived

from Texas. Didn't even know there was a feud on."