out spice or garnishment to whet the vanity, brought about a quick and brightening change. Texas was almost himself when he started to visit Uncle Boley after supper, clothed in new raiment, his grand black coat coming down on his thighs. As for the suspicion of the association, it troubled him little now. Duncan's adjustment of vision after the fight lent hope that all of them would see him right in time. But there was the challenge from Dee Winch, who felt himself aggrieved because he had hired Texas into the trust that they thought he had betrayed. Winch was not big enough to stand back and look at it like the generous man that Texas had taken him to be. His mind and sympathy were as inelastic as the dried beef upon which he lived, and his heart was atrophied like a chunk of it hanging in the smoke. His threat haunted Hartwell like a whisper in his ears. It would not leave him; he was conscious of it every breath.
He found that the story of his supposed treason had gone to Uncle Boley's shop ahead of him, and all over the town, in fact.
"Yes, they're cussin' you high and low, Texas, wherever they're got interest in cattle, one way or another, for this is a cow town, as I told you before," the old man said.
Uncle Boley sat looking out of his window—he was at work on a special rush job when Texas en-
