said, stealing a half-leering look at the girl.
As soon as he saw her face, however, he straightened himself up and took
on different manners. He had not been so intoxicated as he had made out,
and he seemed only "mellow" as he stood before them, with his corrugated
face and queer, quaint look, the eye with the cast in it blinking faster
than the other.

"It's all right, Goatry," said Foyle. "This lady is one of my family from
the East."

"Goin' on by stage?" Goatry said, vaguely, as they shook hands.

She did not reply, for she was looking down the street, and presently she
started as she gazed. She laid a hand suddenly on Foyle's arm.

"See--he's come," she said, in a whisper, and as though not realizing
Goatry's presence. "He's come."

Goatry looked, as well as Foyle. "Halbeck--the devil!" he said.

Foyle turned to him. "Stand by, Goatry. I want you to keep a shut mouth.
I've work to do."

Goatry held out his hand. "I'm with you. If you get him this time, clamp
him, clamp him like a tooth in a harrow."

Halbeck had stopped his horse at the post-office door. Dismounting, he
looked quickly round, then drew the reins over the horse's head, letting
them trail, as is the custom of the West.

A few swift words passed between Goatry and Foyle.

"I'll do this myself, Jo," he whispered to the girl presently. "Go into
another room. I'll bring him here."

* * * * *

In another minute Goatry was leading the horse away from the post-office,
while Foyle stood waiting quietly at the door. The departing footsteps of
the horse brought Halbeck swiftly to the doorway, with a letter in his
hand.

"Hi, there, you damned sucker!" he called after Goatry, and then saw Foyle
waiting.

"What the hell--!" he said, fiercely, his hand on something in his
hip-pocket.

"Keep quiet, Dorl. I want to have a little talk with you. Take your hand
away from that gun--take it away!" he added, with a meaning not to be
misunderstood.

Halbeck knew that one shout would have the town on him, and he did not
know what card his brother was going to play. He let his arm drop to his
side. "What's your game? What do you want?" he asked, surlily.

"Come over to the Happy Land Hotel," Foyle answered, and in the light of
what was in his mind his words had a grim irony.

With a snarl Halbeck stepped out. Goatry, who had handed the horse over to
the hostler, watched them coming.

"Why did I never notice