ve never known him to go on a drunk more than two or three
times. And every time there was trouble.'

'He's drinking now, then?'

'He started in right after you got through with him the other night.
And he has been talking. There's no use being a fool!' he cut in
sternly as Alan shrugged his shoulders. 'Courtot doesn't talk to me,
but I've got straight what he has said. He talks to Moraga, and Moraga
talks to Barbee, and Barbee passes it on to me. He told Moraga that if
it was the last thing he did, he'd get you. And he is carrying a gun
every step he takes.'

'The more a man talks, the less killing he does, I've noticed,' said
Howard. But his tone did not carry conviction. Carr frowned
impatiently.

'He hasn't talked much. He was mad clean through when he made that
crack to Moraga. I tell you there's no use being a fool, Al.'

'No. Guess you're right, John. Anyway, it was pretty decent of you to
ride over.'

He got up and went into his bedroom. A moment later he came out
carrying a heavy Colt revolver in one hand, a box of cartridges in the
other. The gun was well oiled; the cylinder spun silently and easily;
the six chambers were loaded. He put the gun down on the table.

'I'll ride heeled for a few days, anyhow,' he decided. 'I guess I can
shoot with Jim Courtot yet.'

'Did you ever find out for sure that it was Jim the other time?'

'Sure enough to suit me,' returned Howard. 'He was in town that night.
And it was his style of work to take a pot shot at a man out of the
dark.'

'He's not exactly a coward,' warned Carr.

'No, not a coward. But that's his kind of work, just the same. He
would go after a man just as he plays poker--simply to win the surest,
quickest, easiest way. Saw Sanchia Murray in town the same day he was
there. Are they working together again?'

'I haven't seen either one of them. But I guess so. Barbee, poor kid,
is trailing after her all the time, and he comes back hating Courtot
worse and worse every day. Seen the Longstreets lately?'

Howard admitted that he had. It was only a little way over, he
reminded Carr, an hour and a half ride or such a matter, and the old
boy was such a helplessly innocent old stranger, that it didn't seem
quite right to turn them adrift altogether.

'The girl is a pretty thing.' said Carr.

'Yes,' agreed Howard. 'Kind of pretty.'

Carr looked at him steadily. And for absolutely no slightest, vaguest
reason in the wide w