Chapter 34
A PLEASANT EVENING Brad Steelman sat hunched before a fire of pi** knots, head drooped low between his high, narrow shoulders. The restless black eyes in the dark hatchet face were sunk deeper now than in the old days. In them was beginning to come the hunted look of the gray wolf he resembled. His nerves were not what they had been, and even in his youth they were not of the best. He had a way of looking back furtively over his shoulder, as though some sinister shadow were creeping toward him out of the darkness. Three taps on the window brought his head up with a jerk. His lax fingers crept to the butt of a Colt's revolver. He waited, listening. The taps were repeated. Steelman sidled to the door and opened it cautiously. A man pushed in and closed the door. He looked at the sheepman
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