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Updated: June 28, 2025
But it was all wasted effort Trevison won't have me he's through. And I'm through. I'm not going to try any more. I'm going back East, after I get rested. You fight it out with Trevison. But I warn you, he'll beat you and I wish he would! As for that beast, Braman, I wish Ah, let him go, Jeff," she advised, noting the cold fury in his eyes. "That's all right," he said with a dry laugh.
He was pointed out, it is true, as the man who had hurled banker Braman through the window of his bank building; there was a hazy understanding that he was having some sort of trouble with Corrigan over some land titles, but in the main Manti buzzed along, busy with its visions and its troubles, leaving Trevison with his.
Trevison had meditated, not without a certain wry humor, upon the strength and the protracted potency of Manti's whiskey, for not once during his home-coming had Levins shown the slightest sign of returning consciousness. He was as slack as a meal sack now, as Trevison lifted him from the pony's back and let him slip gently to the ground at his feet.
And he took the cigar from his mouth, dropped it to the floor of the car and ground it to pieces under his heel. He looked up again, at Trevison, and their gaze met, in each man's eyes glowed the knowledge of imminent action, ruthless and terrible. Trevison broke the tension with a laugh that came from between his teeth. "Why delay?" he mocked.
They were coming fast, racing ahead of a dust cloud, and were perhaps a quarter of a mile distant. But Trevison knew them, and stepped boldly out to the edge of the stone ledge waving his hat to them, laughing full-throatedly, his voice vibrating a little as he spoke: "Good old Barkwell!" "That's him!"
Trevison turned; the gaze of the two men met, held, their hatred glowing bitter in their eyes; the gaze broke, like two sharp blades rasping apart, and Corrigan turned to his deputies, scowling; while Trevison pushed his way through the crowd.
Miss Benham had spent the night thinking of Trevison, and she had spent much of her time during the present ride stealing glances at him. She had discovered something about him that had eluded her the day before an impulsive boyishness.
Trevison got out of bed and buckled on his cartridge belt and pistol. "The boys are working the Willow Creek range," he said, sharply. "Get them, tell them to load up with plenty of cartridges, and join me at the butte."
Trevison reached for the ledger, seized it, the Judge protesting, half-heartedly, though with the judicial dignity that had become habitual from long service in his profession. "This is a high-handed proceeding, young man. You are in contempt of court!" The Judge tried, but could not make his voice ring sincerely.
He knows who broke into the dynamite shed, and therefore he knows who did the dynamiting. He's friendly with Trevison, and if we can make him admit he saw Trevison at the shed, we've got the goods. He warned Trevison the other day, when I had the deputies lined up at the butte, and I found his pipe this morning near the door of the dynamite shed. We'll make him talk, damn him!"
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