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Updated: May 17, 2025
Brayley cried, hoarse with anger. "Shoot, you coward an' be d d to you!" For answer Conniston jerked his own gun from his belt, tossing it to lie with Brayley's two in the dust of the corral. "We're ruling guns out of this, Brayley," he said, quietly. "It's going to be just man to man." For a moment Brayley stood, open-mouthed, staring at him.
And he was of no mind to have Brayley manhandle him before such an audience as was now sitting quietly watching, listening to his panting breaths. In one straining effort he jerked his right shoulder free, swung his clenched fist back, and drove it smashing into Brayley's face. Brayley's head snapped back, and the blood from his cut mouth ran across his white, bared teeth.
He remembered suddenly that he had not had a shave for four days. Rawhide Jones, Toothy, and Brayley came out of the bunk-house together. They all saw her and as one man lifted their broad-brimmed hats. She called to Brayley, and as the others went down to the stable he walked, lurching, to her. Conniston could not hear what she was saying, but Brayley's heavier voice came to him distinctly.
With a glance from Brayley's lacerated face to the bloody smears on Conniston's, Lonesome Pete got to his feet and, shaking his head and dusting the seat of his overalls as he went, turned and disappeared into the stable after his horse. Brayley glared after him a second, grunted, and got to his feet. "Well," he snarled, facing Conniston. "You licked me. Now what? Want to beat me up some more?"
After breakfast he found himself outside of the bunk-house with Lonesome Pete. "When Brayley's away," the cowboy was saying, over his cigarette-making, "Rawhide Jones takes his place. An' Rawhide says you're to come with me an' give me a hand over to the cross-fence. I guess we'd better be makin' a start, huh?" Conniston went with him to the stable.
For a little Conniston stood over him, watchful, wiping the blood from the gash in his cheek. He saw that Brayley's eyes were closed, and felt a quick fear that he had killed him. Then he saw the eyelids flutter open, close, open again, as the foreman's eyes rested steadily upon his. He waited. Brayley lifted his head, even struggled to his elbow, only to fall back prone.
One man chuckled aloud, Toothy giggled like a girl, and the others grinned broadly. For a moment Brayley's face darkened ominously. Then his frown passed, and he turned about in his chair toward the door. "Hello, Con," he said, quietly. "Hello, Brayley," Conniston answered, in the same tone. Brayley's eyes went back to the men at the table, shifting quickly from one to another.
She said special she was in a hurry, an' you wasn't to waste time puttin' on your glad rags." Why did Argyl want him to-night? He put his fingers to his cheek where Brayley's fist had cut into the flesh. How could he go to her like this? He was on the verge of telling Lonesome Pete that he could not go, of framing some excuse, any excuse.
"What's wrong?" asked the agent, as they suddenly stopped with a jerk. "This ought to be Brayley's," said Beth; "but it's so dark I'm not certain just where we are." McNutt thrust his head out and peered into the blackness. "Drive along a little," he whispered. The girl obeyed. "Stop stop!" said he, a moment later. "I think that's them contwisted fifteen-cent mellings over there!"
Dan Brayley he thinks he kin raise mellings, but the ol' fool ain't got a circumstance to this. Ain't they beauties?" "It seems to me," observed Patsy, gravely, "that Brayley's are just as good. We passed his place this morning and wondered how he could raise such enormous melons." "'Normous! Brayley's!" "I'm sure they are finer than these," said Beth. "Well, I'll be jiggered!"
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