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with his piercing eyes upon the door。 No one entered and no
one went out。 The games of chance there and the drinking
were not enjoyed。 It was a hard scene that smoky； long；
ill…smelling room； with its dim； yellow lights； and dark；
evil faces； with the stealthy…stepping Turner passing to and
fro； and the dead Mulvey staring in horrible fixidity at the
ceiling； and the Mexican quivering more and more until he
shook violently； then lay still； and with the drinking；
somber； waiting cowboy； more fiery and more flaming with
every drink； listening for a step that did not come。
Time passed； and what little change it wrought was in the
cowboy。 Drink affected him； but he did not become drunk。 It
seemed that the liquor he drank was consumed by a mounting
fire。 It was fuel to a driving passion。 He grew more sullen；
somber； brooding； redder of eye and face； more crouching and
restless。 At last； when the hour was so late that there was
no probability of Beasley appearing； Las Vegas flung himself
out of the saloon。
All lights of the village had now been extinguished。 The
tired horses drooped in the darkness。 Las Vegas found his
horse and led him away down the road and out a lane to a
field where a barn stood dim and dark in the starlight。
Morning was not far off。 He unsaddled the horse and； turning
him loose； went into the barn。 Here he seemed familiar with
his surroundings； for he found a ladder and climbed to a
loft； where be threw himself on the hay。
He rested； but did not sleep。 At daylight he went down and
brought his horse into the barn。 Sunrise found Las Vegas
pacing to and fro the short length of the interior； and
peering out through wide cracks between the boards。 Then
during the succeeding couple of hours he watched the
occasional horseman and wagon and herder that passed on into
the village。
About the breakfast hour Las Vegas saddled his horse and
rode back the way he had come the night before。 At Turner's
he called for something to eat as well as for whisky。 After
that he became a listening； watching machine。 He drank
freely for an hour； then he stopped。 He seemed to be drunk；
but with a different kind of drunkenness from that usual in
drinking men。 Savage； fierce； sullen； he was one to avoid。
Turner waited on him in evident fear。
At length Las Vegas's condition became such that action was
involuntary。 He could not stand still nor sit down。 Stalking
out； he passed the store； where men slouched back to avoid
him； and he went down the road； wary and alert； as if he
expected a rifle…shot from some hidden enemy。 Upon his
return down that main thoroughfare of the village not a
person was to be seen。 He went in to Turner's。 The
proprietor was there at his post； nervous and pale。 Las
Vegas did not order any more liquor。
〃Turner； I reckon I'll bore you next time I run in heah；〃 he
said； and stalked out。
He had the stores； the road； the village； to himself； and he
patrolled a beat like a sentry watching for an Indian
attack。
Toward noon a single man ventured out into the road to
accost the cowboy。
〃Las Vegas； I'm tellin' you all the greasers air leavin'
the range；〃 he said。
〃Howdy； Abe！〃 replied Las Vegas。 〃What 'n hell you talkin'
about？〃
The man repeated his information。 And Las Vegas spat out
frightful curses。
〃Abe you heah what Beasley's doin'？〃
〃Yes。 He's with his men up at the ranch。 Reckon he can't
put off ridin' down much longer。〃
That was where the West spoke。 Beasley would be forced to
meet the enemy who had come out single…handed against him。
Long before this hour a braver man would have come to face
Las Vegas。 Beasley could not hire any gang to bear the brunt
of this situation。 This was the test by which even his own
men must judge him。 All of which was to say that as the
wildness of the West had made possible his crimes； so it now
held him responsible for them。
〃Abe； if thet greaser don't rustle down heah I'm goin'
after him。〃
〃Sure。 But don't be in no hurry；〃 replied Abe。
〃I'm waltzin' to slow music。 。 。 。 Gimme a smoke。〃
With fingers that slightly trembled Abe rolled a cigarette；
lit it from his own； and handed it to the cowboy。
〃Las Vegas； I reckon I hear hosses；〃 he said； suddenly。
〃Me； too；〃 replied Las Vegas； with his head high like that
of a listening deer。 Apparently he forgot the cigarette and
also his friend。 Abe hurried back to the store； where he
disappeared。
Las Vegas began his stalking up and down； and his action now
was an exaggeration of all his former movements。 A rational；
ordinary mortal from some Eastern community； happening to
meet this red…faced cowboy； would have considered him drunk
or crazy。 Probably Las Vegas looked both。 But all the same
he was a marvelously keen and strung and efficient
instrument to meet the portending issue。 How many thousands
of times； on the trails； and in the wide…streeted little
towns all over the West； had this stalk of the cowboy's been
perpetrated！ Violent； bloody； tragic as it was； it had an
importance in that pioneer day equal to the use of a horse
or the need of a plow。
At length Pine was apparently a deserted village； except for
Las Vegas； who patrolled his long beat in many ways he
lounged while he watched； he stalked like a mountaineer； he
stole along Indian fashion； stealthily； from tree to tree；
from corner to corner； he disappeared in the saloon to
reappear at the back； he slipped round behind the barns to
come out again in the main road； and time after time he
approached his horse as if deciding to mount。
The last visit he made into Turner's saloon he found no one
there。 Savagely he pounded on the bar with his gun。 He got
no response。 Then the long…pent…up rage burst。 With wild
whoops he pulled another gun and shot at the mirror； the
lamps。 He shot the neck off a bottle and drank till be
choked； his neck corded； bulging； and purple。 His only slow
and deliberate action was the reloading of his gun。 Then he
crashed through the doors； and with a wild yell leaped sheer
into the saddle； hauling his horse up high and goading him
to plunge away。
Men running to the door and windows of the store saw a
streak of dust flying down the road。 And then they trooped
out to see it disappear。 The hour of suspense ended for
them。 Las Vegas had lived up to the code of the West； had
dared his man out； had waited far longer than needful to
prove that man a coward。 Whatever the issue now； Beasley was
branded forever。 That moment saw the decline of whatever
power he had wielded。 He and his men might kill the cowboy
who had ridden out alone to face him； but that would not
change the brand。
The preceding night Beasley bad been finishing a late supper
at his newly acquired ranch； when Buck Weaver； one of his
men； burst in upon him with news of the death of Mulvey and
Pedro。
〃Who's in the outfit？ How many？〃 he had questioned； quickly。
〃It's a one…man outfit； boss；〃 replied Weaver。
Beasley appeared astounded。 He and his men had prepared to
meet the friends of the girl whose property he had taken
over； and because of the superiority of his own force he had
anticipated no bloody or extended feud。 This amazing
circumstance put the case in very much more difficult form。
〃One man！〃 he ejaculated。
〃Yep。 Thet cowboy Las Vegas。 An；' boss； he turns out to be a
gun…slinger from Texas。 I was in Turner's。 Hed jest happened
to step in the other room when Las Vegas come bustin' in on
his boss an' jumped off。 。 。 。 Fust thing he called Jeff an'
Pedro。 They both showed yaller。 An' then； damn if thet
cowboy didn't turn his back on them an' went to the bar fer
a drink。 But he was lookin' in the mirror an' when Jeff an'
Pedro went fer their guns why he whirled quick as lightnin'
an' bored them both。 。 。 。 I sneaked out an 〃
〃Why didn't you bore him？〃 roared Beasley。
Buck Weaver steadily eyed his boss before he replied。 〃I
ain't takin' shots at any fellar from behind doors。 An' as
fer meetin' Las Vegas excoose me； boss！ I've still a
hankerin' fer sunshine an' red liquor。 Besides； I 'ain't got
nothin' ag'in' Las Vegas。 If he's rus