He had met the rustler.

Venters recalled the smoky haze of the saloon, the dark-visaged men, the huge Oldring.

He saw him step out of the door, a splendid specimen of manhood, a handsome giant with purple-black and sweeping beard.

He remembered inquisitive gaze of falcon eyes.

He heard himself repeating: "OLDRING, BESS IS ALIVE! BUT SHE'S DEAD TO YOU," and he felt himself jerk, and his ears throbbed to the thunder of a gun, and he saw the giant sink slowly to his knees.