"All of us?"

"Yes, you and Bill and me."

"And what about the fence?" asked Jim.

"d.a.m.n the fence," answered Glen fiercely, "I've done with it."

"Then so have I," echoed Jim almost gladly.

"Good boy. It's a cursed job. Keepers of the fence. I tell you, Jim, it's slow murder. I'd as lief have solitary confinement."

"I guess we'd get better tucker in prison," said Jim.

The word murder recalled to Glen's mind the death of Calder.

"Jim!"

"Well?"

"Joe Calder's been shot dead on the track."

"Serves the brute right," replied Jim in a hard voice.

"You haven't told me yet what brought you here," said Glen looking at him.

"That was it."

"What?"

"The Calder business."

"You--?"

Jim nodded.

"I shot him."

CHAPTER VI

"COME"

Glen asked no questions. If Jim Benny had shot Calder he must have had good reason for it. He waited to hear if he would say more.

"Do you want to know why?" asked Jim.

"Please yourself."

Jim pulled off his shirt, or tried to. It stuck.

"The water," he said faintly.

Glen gave him a damp cloth. Jim bathed the shirt, near his breast. For the first time Glen noticed a deep red mark.

"That's better," said Jim, as he felt the shirt give, and pulled it off.

Then he went on, "He did that with his knife, and I shot him."

"It served him right," returned Glen.

"We quarrelled, not for the first time. He said brutal things to me, and called me names no man would stand, so I struck him between the eyes. He whipped out his knife, and I had it before I could think. I pulled my revolver from my belt, and shot him through the heart. He fell like a log. I left him there. I never even looked at him, but came on here."

"Why did you come here?"

"Because I thought I could depend upon you, and you would give me good advice. I didn't tell you at first, because of her. One thing at a time's enough."

"You can depend upon me. I'll help you if there's trouble, but no one knows you shot him, and there'll not be much fuss made over him,"

declared Glen.

The woman opened her eyes, and looked at them. Then a faint smile spread over her face.

"Are you better?" asked Glen.

No answer.

"Do you feel stronger, my la.s.s?"

She pressed her hand over her forehead feebly, and a vacant look came into her eyes.

"She's weak. She's had no food. Warm some of that milk, Jim."

When it was ready Glen gave it to her with a spoon. She took it greedily. In a few minutes she dozed again.

"Her head's sure to be bad for a time," said Glen.

There was a brief silence, then Jim said, "While you were away I did something."

"What?"

"I kissed her on the lips. I couldn't help it. Something prompted me."

Glen started. For a moment he felt angry, then muttered, "When you were outside I kissed her on the forehead."

These kisses were characteristic of the men and showed the difference between them.

They said no more about it. Both thought it strange, and the subject dropped.