wanted
his information now.

"Ike been along?" he demanded doggedly.

Beasley spluttered. Then he subsided into a malicious grin again.

"Sure," he said. "He's been in with a fat wad. Say, he's a lucky
swine. 'Most everything comes his way. Guess he can't never touch bad.
He's ahead on the game, he's a golden-haired pet with the gals, an' he
gits gold in--lumps."

But Pete's dark face and hungry eyes showed no appreciation, and
Beasley knew that the man's mood was an ugly one.

"Wher's he now?"

"Can't jest say. I didn't ask him wher' he was goin'. Y' see I cashed
his gold, and we had a drink. He seemed excited some. Guess he was
sort of priming himself. Maybe he's gone along to the gals. Have a
drink?"

"No--yes, give us a horn of rye."

The man behind the bar pushed the bottle across.

"What you needin' him for?" he asked with apparent unconcern.

Pete snatched at his drink.

"That ain't your affair," he retorted surlily.

"Sure it ain't. I jest asked--casual."

Pete banged his empty glass on the counter.

"I'm needin' him bad," he cried, his eyes furiously alight. "I'm
needin' him cos I know the racket he's on. See? He quit his claim
early cos--cos----"

"Cos he's goin' to pay a 'party' call on that Golden Woman," cried
Beasley, appearing to have made a sudden discovery. "I got it, now.
That's why he was in sech a hurry. That's why he needed a good dose o'
rye. Say, that feller means marryin' that gal. I've heard tell he's
got it all fixed with her. I've heard tell she's dead sweet on him.
Wal, I ain't sure but wot it's natural. He's a good looker; so is she.
An' he's a bright boy. Guess he's got the grit to look after a gal
good. He's a pretty scrapper. Another drink?"

Pete refilled his glass. His fury was at bursting-point, and Beasley
reveled in the devil now looking out of his angry eyes.

"He's gone across ther' now?" he demanded, after swallowing his second
drink. His question was ominously quiet.

Beasley saw the man's hands finger the guns at his waist. It was a
movement the sight of which gave him a wonderful satisfaction.

"Seems like it," he said. "Though course I can't rightly say. I see
him ride off down the trail that way----"

"Here, I'll take another drink. I'm goin' after----"

"Say, you ain't goin' to butt in with two folks courtin'?" cried
Beasley, blandly innocent.

But Pete had no reply. He drained his third drink and, flinging the
glass down, bolted out of the bar;