The hand of the drinker trembled uncontrollably, and a
tiny red stream trickled down the unshaven chin to the starched linen
beneath.
"If you'll take a word of advice," commented the spectator at last,
"you'll cut that--for the time being at least." He hesitated; then went
on reluctantly. "I've been in your pay and I'll try to be square with
you. If you've got an atom of presentiment you'll realise that this is
no place for you to get into the shape you're getting." Again he halted,
and again with an effort he gave the warning direct. "If I were you I
wouldn't be at this ranch a second longer than it took me to leave; not
as long as I had a broncho or a leg or a crutch to go on."
Slowly and more slowly came the words. Then followed silence, with the
two men staring each other face to face. Breaking it, the overseer
arose.
"I've said more than I intended already," he added, "and now I wash my
hands of you. Do as you please. I'm going to bed."
Preventing, of a sudden sobered, Craig was likewise on his feet.
"In common decency, even if you're no friend of mine, don't go,
O'Reilly," he pleaded. He had no thought of superiority now, no thought
of malice; only of companionship and of protection. "I know what you
mean. I'm no fool, and what you suggest is exactly what's been driving
me insane these last two days. I'm going in the morning, as soon as it's
daylight; the team is all ordered; but to-night, now--" instinctively he
glanced at the window where recollection pictured the darkness
without--"I haven't nerve to face it now.
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