Justin Wingate, Ranchman

s did not forg

he felt Justin had subjected him; but deep in his heart he nursed both for Philip Davison and Ju

than the discovery which came to him one day of

ponchos, ropes and spurs, sat Davison, at a small unpainted table, counting out money to his employes and keeping a record of the amounts paid by writing names and sums with a stub pencil in a soiled account book. Davison was fifty years of age now, red-faced, blue-eyed, and bearded. Justin had learned to admire a

out behind the bunk house, and was counting his bills in the drizzle tha

this time

g to the muddy sole, was a five-dollar bill. He pulled it away with a chuckle,

him, with a look

ted that bill to the floor. I set my boot on i

dn't do

y more where that came from. He only pays me beastly cowboy's wage

eproof, and Ben flushe

ell, wou

s stea

ge of his wrong, this blunt condemnation roused the latent devil

t when that blow fell on his face with stinging force, his head became unaccountably hot, he trembled violently, an

en but a moment before they had been friends! He stared at Ben, who had dropped heavily

said, wiping a speck of blood fro

as your

g heard the blows and the fall. He saw Ben's cut and quivering lip, his clo

ck Ben?"

s his

im, after an appea

ntant uneasiness. He had gained Ben's enmity, and he feared

r the wad of bills, and t

irst," he confessed. "We had a litt

he was older, and it humiliate

s annoyed

Ben," he commanded;

gone he tur

your work; but you must remember that Ben is my son. I

stin urged, "and I shouldn't have d

quarreling and fighting. J

ily, though deeply troubled by the knowl

ive rage, yet he still felt its influence. That he could have struck Ben in that way seemed incredible; yet

at way! You knocked me down, but I don't hold it

l have th

cour

nged my opinio

ce redde

r's is mine, or it will be mine some day; I just took a little of it ahea

defiant views on many subjects, but nothing like th

n you talk that way," he d