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Carlson stood where he had stopped, ten feet or more distant, his arms bare, shirt open on his breast in his way of picturesque freedom. Mackenzie waited for him to proceed in whatever way he had planned, knowing there could be no compromise, no settlement in peace. He would either have to yield entirely and allow Carlson to drive off seven or eight hundred of Sullivan's sheep, or fight.
But drive as he would, transact business as he would, at high pressure with Carlson and Wing Fo Wong, continually, in the middle ground of his consciousness, persisted the thought that Paula had gone out of her way and done the most unusual in driving Graham the long eight miles from Eldorado to the ranch.
The blind man turned quickly. "Fine, Capt. It's getting easier all the time. 'Twon't be long before I'll be making real wages at this job." They passed from the blind cutters and came to the capping machine where a man with an artificial leg was being instructed in soldering the cans. Again Gregory's eyes expressed his satisfaction. "That's fine, Carlson," he commended. "You're getting on fine."
Swan pointed to the door behind Reid, half rising from his chair. Reid put his hand to his empty holster, his body turned from Carlson to conceal his want of a weapon. Carlson jerked his head in high disdain, resumed his chair, his great hand spread on the table. Mackenzie stepped back from the window, leveling his pistol at Reid's head. Joan was the subject of this infamous barter.
"Because," said Betty, "we've just discovered a left-over freshman. She lives way down at the end of Market Street, and she entered late, and somehow her name wasn't put on the official list. But this morning she was talking to a girl in her Math. division, and when the other girl spoke about the reception this one her name is Dora Carlson hadn't heard of it.
"Hello!" she hailed, as if uncertain of her welcome. Mackenzie requested her to come on, lighting the lantern which he had ready to hand. Mrs. Carlson hesitated, drawing back a little when she saw his face. "I thought it was Earl," she said. "Earl's not here tonight. Sit down and rest yourself, Mrs. Carlson. You don't remember me?" "I remember. You are the man who cut my chain."
"Who?" demanded Jean. "Miss Carlson," answered Eleanor simply. "Oh, that! Don't you think, Eleanor, that you're getting a little quixotic in your old age?" Her scornful tone was very exasperating, and Eleanor straightened haughtily. "I don't think either of us need worry about being too charitable just yet awhile," she began. Then she caught herself up sharply. "Don't let's get to bickering, Jean.
Eleanor took their banter with perfect good-nature, and seemed rather pleased than otherwise at Miss Carlson's devotion. "I like her," she said stoutly. "That's why I encourage her, as you call it. Now, Helen Adams doesn't interest me at all. She keeps herself to herself too much. But Dora Carlson is so absolutely frank and straightforward, and so competent and quick to see through things.
Carlson tried to rise once, but a bullet hit him and he dropped; there were nine bullet holes in him. Nordstrom was asked: "Did you have a gun?" "No sir." "Did Carlson have a gun?" "No sir." "Did you see anybody with a gun on the boat?" "No. I didn't."
There didn't seem to be much question on how it would come out in the latter event, for Carlson was not armed, and Mackenzie's pistol was that moment under his hand. "You got a gun on you," said Swan, in casual, disinterested tone. "I ain't got no gun on me, but I'm a better man without no gun than you are with one.
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