out an hour ago."

"What did you come for?"

"Lookin' for a job."

"Did Carson say he hadn't anything for you?"

"No, he didn't. You're askin' a lot of questions, if you want to
know," he added with new surliness.

"Then why are you going in such a hurry? Don't you like to see any one
shoot pigeons?"

Donley stared back at her insolently.

"Because I didn't fall for the crowd," he retorted bluntly. "An', if
you want to know, because I didn't hanker for the job when I found out
who was runnin' it."

"Meaning me? A girl? That it?"

"You guessed it."

"Who told you that I was running the outfit?" she demanded suddenly,
her eyes hard on his. "You must have found that out pretty soon! Who
told you?"

Donley hesitated, his eyes running from her to the other faces about
him, resting longest upon the expressionless, dead-looking eyes of
Poker Face.

"What difference does it make who told me?" he snapped.

"Answer me," she commanded. "Who told you?"

"Well," said Donley, "he did. Poker Face told me."

"Who told you that his name was Poker Face?" Judith shot the question
at him.

Donley moved a scuffling foot back and forth, stirring uneasily. That
he was lying, no one there doubted; that he was but a poor liar after
all was equally evident.

"You ain't got no call to keep me here," he said at last. "I ain't
goin' to answer questions all day."

"You'll answer my questions if you don't want me to turn you over to
Emmet Sawyer in Rocky Bend!" she told him coolly. "How did you know
this man was called Poker Face? Did you know him before?"

Donley's eyes went again, furtive and swift, to Poker Face. But so did
all other eyes. Poker Face gave no sign.

"Yes," answered Donley then, taking refuge at last upon the solid basis
of truth.

"Did you know this man?" Judith asked then of Poker Face, turning
suddenly on him.

"No," said Poker Face.

Donley, having guessed wrong, flushed and dropped his head. Then he
looked up defiantly and with a short, forced laugh.

"Suppose I know him or don't know him," he asked with his old
insolence, "whose business is it?"

But Judith was giving her attention to Poker Face now.

"Where did you get that white pigeon you turned loose this morning?"
she asked crisply.

"Caught it," was the quiet answer.

"How?"

"With my han's."

"Why?"

"Jus' for fun."

"Did you know that pigeons could carry hog-cholera on their feet?"

"No. But I wouldn't h