"Not exactly for me, though I'll dip into the box after Thora opens it."
He went out and presently Jim Lund came in. He was a slim, tall, handsome youth, well knit, a good rider, usually full of good spirits but now there was a sulky look in his eyes.
"Jim," said Sheridan, "I hear you want to go to Pioche. I can't stop you. I'm going there myself tomorrow. Want to go along?"
"Why—I did aim to go—but I dunno as my saddle's ready. I'm havin' me a saddle made there at Castillo's, Boss. I ain't got all the cash for it till next pay day."
"You can draw ahead whenever you like, Jim. You know that. Pedro's in Pioche. Jim, you've got a fixed idea you've got to wipe out the advantage Pedro ot of you that night. And you imagine it's got to be wiped out by spilling his blood. How about it? Man and man?"
Lund felt the scar at the back of his head.
"Man an' man," he said, "I reckon you'd feel the same way over it. Thet greaser's got the laff on me an' I aim to shoot that laff off'n his face first time I meet up with him."
"If you go gunning for him, Jim, there'll be murder one way or another. I don't want you killed. I don't want you to dodge Pedro. But I don't want you to pick a quarrel with him. I've got a score against Pedro myself. Yours came first, I'll admit that. I'm holding mine back on account of Miss Burrows. I want this Painted Rocks affair to die down. A woman's reputation is as safe in
