ing glance. Manuel lowered the light and came forward.
"Go to your aunt, child," Nearing directed the girl.
Alma turned obediently back to the porch, where Mrs. Nearing stood exclaiming and moaning. Nearing spoke in Spanish to Manuel, who retreated with his light.
"I'll see you two in the morning," Nearing said to Gustin and Grubb, by way of dismissal for them. "Yes, yes—I'll come in a minute"—to his wife, who stood at the porch railing calling his name.
Alma took her aunt into the house, closing the door as if to say that she knew very well that something remained unfinished between the two principals in the mysterious midnight conference that had been broken by such a dramatic interference. When Nearing and Barrett again stood alone, the cattleman unbuckled his belt and holster, and threw them on the ground near Barrett's feet.
"If you can find that fool gun of mine, Barrett, hang it on the porch," he said. "You ought to throw it in the river—I'm not to be trusted with it any more!"
Barrett did not speak. Trouble had multiplied upon him in these few minutes until he felt its sombre weight. Nearing turned toward the house; stopped, came back.
"Barrett, you're right about it. Findlay's got me where he could ruin me with a word. I can't discharge him, I can't discharge the lowest of his gang."
"Is there anything I can do to help you?" Barrett asked, moved with pity by the hopelessness of the man's word and bearing.
