s. Sommers came in with a
tray.

"Maybe you young folks forgot about supper," she said. "I just thought
I'd bring in a bite for you."

She placed it on the table, and then lingered, delighted, while her eyes
went over them together and one by one. Perhaps Betty Neal was a fool
for throwing herself away on a gun-fighter, but at least Mrs. Sommers
was furnished with a story which half Alder would know by tomorrow.
The walls of her house were not sound proof. Besides, Mrs. Sommers had
remarkably keen ears.

"They's been a gentleman here ask for you, Vic," she said, "but I
thought maybe you wouldn't like it much to be disturbed. So I told him
you wasn't here."

Her smile fairly glowed with triumph.

"Thanks," said Gregg, "but who was he?"

"I never seen him before. Anyway, it didn't much matter. He wanted to
see some of the rest of the boys quite bad: Pete Glass and Ronicky Joe,
and Sliver Waldron, and Gus Reeve. He seemed to want to see 'em all
particular bad."

"Pete Glass and Ronicky and--the posse!" murmured Vic. He grew
thoughtful. "He wanted to see me, too?"

"Very particular, and he seemed kind of down-hearted when he found that
Pete was out of town. Wanted to know when he might be back."

"What sort of a lookin' gent was he?" asked Vic, and his voice was
sharp.

"Him? Oh, he looked like a tenderfoot to me. Terrible polite, though,
and he had a voice that wasn't hardly rougher'n a girl's. Seemed like he
was sort of embarrassed jest talkin' to me." She smiled at the thought,
but Gregg was on his feet now, his hands on the shoulders of Mrs.
Sommers as though he would try to shake information from her loose bulk.

"Look quick, now," he said. "Where did you send him?"

"How you talk! Why, where should I send him? I told him like as not
Ronicky and Sliver and Gus would be down to Lorrimer's--"

The groan of Vic made her stop with a gasp.

"What did he look like?"

Mrs. Sommers was very sober. Her smile congealed.

"Black hair, and young, and good-lookin', and b-b-brown eyes, and--"

"God!"

"Vic," cried Betty Neal, "what is it!" She looked around her in terror.

"It's Barry."

He turned towards the door, and then stopped, in an agony of indecision.
Betty Neal was before him, blocking the way with her arms outstretched.

"Vic, you shan't go. You shan't go. You've told me yourself that he's
sure death."

"God knows he is."

"You won't go, Vic?"

"But the others! Ronicky--Gus--"

She stamme