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Tom Long shouldered his way to the front. "Law! Where was the law

when this ruffian Kinney shot down my poor brother Dave? I guess

a rope and a cottonwood's good enough law for him. Anyhow, that's

what he gits."

Fraser, hard-packed, lithe, and graceful, laid a friendly hand on

the other's shoulder and smiled sunnily at him.

"I know how you feel, Tom. We all thought a heap of Dave and

you're his brother. But Dave died for the law. Both you boys have

always stood for order. He'd be troubled if he knew you were

turned enemy to it on his account."

"I'm for justice, Steve. This skunk deserves death and I'm going

to see he gits it."

"No, Tom."

"I say yes. Y'u ain't sitting in this game, Steve."

"I reckon I'll have to take a hand then."

The ranger's voice was soft and drawling, but his eyes were

indomitably steady. Throughout the Southwest his reputation for

fearlessness was established even among a population singularly

courageous. The audacity of his daredevil recklessness was become

a proverb.