PAINTED ROCK
"Because I say so," said Ben. And in spite of his grit Tom put the lamp out thoughtfully. He glanced across the room and caught my eye. He lifted his eyebrows and looked at the door. The very next moment a stranger entered, or, at any rate, one who was a stranger to me. Nevertheless I was quite aware that the new-comer could be no one else than Sage-brush Greet, for Tom's look at me and the little incident of the lamp said a great deal to anyone who understood the West, even if I had not been expecting the desperado from Red River. And now if I had had what Westerners call "horse-sense" I should have got up and left. I did no such thing, for the old Colonel walked in behind Sage-brush and sat down by me. If I had less grit than the old man I couldn't show it. The very atmosphere of the long room became electric. I saw Pillsbury the gambler, who was making up his faro lay-out in the back room, lay down the cards. He passed his hand mechanically over his hip-pocket, and sat down quietly. Outside the glow of the evening was dying rapidly, and
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