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finally Beal rose with the gun.
    Wallace came swiftly to his feet. His face was pale with anger, and little lights danced wickedly in his bleached eyes. There was no inner amusement in them this time as he glared at McFee. His rawhiding had turned on him, and he didn’t like it. He said softly, “I’ll ruin you for that, McFee! And if I don’t ruin you I’ll kill you!”
    He turned and stalked out of the dining room, and Beal followed him out. The members of the Three Rivers crew closest to their boss got up and followed Beal.
    McFee, under the disturbed gaze of Carol and Maitland, who had said nothing during the fight, sat down and picked up his fork. He saw Lacey Thornton writing industriously at another table. He stabbed at some food and then slammed the fork down. He was murdering-mad, and there was no use trying to hide it.
    â€œEat, Papa,” Carol said weakly.
    â€œEat, hell!” McFee roared. “I’m goin’ up and get a gun and kill that curly wolf!”
    The whole dining room heard him. He got out of his chair so abruptly that he tipped over the water pitcher and stalked out of the dining room; Carol and Maitland, a worried look on his face, followed him up the stairs. Already a pair of deputy marshals stood undecided in the door to the dining room, watching them. Lacey Thornton stood beside them, laughing.
    In the room Carol grabbed hold of her father’s shirt and beat his chest with her small fists. Maitland stood between McFee and the gun on the dresser.
    â€œDad! Dad! They’ll murder you!” Carol cried. “Think a minute! Think!”
    â€œI’ve thought too long!” McFee growled. “I’m goin’ to get it over with.”
    â€œAnd what will happen to Carol, Bruce?” Maitland said gently. “Think of that, if you won’t about killing a man.”
    It was that question that hauled McFee up. He stared at Maitland like a man coming out of a trance, but there was still fight in him.
    â€œDammit, the gall of that damn pirate!” he roared. “Me, throwin’ in with that cutthroat of a Dave Coyle when I put up three thousand for his dead-or-alive reward! And now I’m supposed to be workin’ for him.”
    â€œI know, I know,” Maitland said gently.
    McFee was shouting now, and Carol knew that when he did that the worst was over. Now all she had to say was “Yes, Papa,” to everything he said, and he’d calm down eventually. He stalked to the window now and glared out as if he were trying to blacken the fall sun.
    Senator Maitland looked at her, smiled faintly, and shook his head. Carol smiled back weakly. She was thinking of Wallace’s accusation. Did they know she had talked to Dave Coyle last night? If her father found that out he would disown her.
    If Dave would only keep out of it! He wouldn’t, he couldn’t, butt in now, after what she’d told him last night. But behind that thought was a creeping fear that he would. He was in town, because just before Wallace had come over to their table she had seen the expression on Sheriff Beal’s face.
    â€œO Lord,” she prayed, “get us out of here without Dave Coyle doing anything.”
    The celebration had died like a wet firecracker. In the hotel and on the street the word went around that Dave Coyle was in town. Nobody knew where he was, but the straight of it was that he was helping McFee. And since the best way to help McFee was to kill Sholto everybody was uneasy. And Beal, who had counted on passing out cigars and drinks and reminding people what a good sheriff they had, was most uneasy of all.
    He proclaimed an immediate search of the hotel. He put a guard at McFee’s door and one at Wallace’s door. In Sholto’s room he put a round dozen of his most trusted men. As for himself, he paced the lobby among the silent members of his posse. They were all recalling stories of Dave Coyle—how the