e wintered in Gophertown. Immediately previous to
his arrival in Gophertown he had been obliged to maintain, in an
unofficial capacity, his former prestige as sheriff of Abilene. The town
of Abilene had sympathized with him heartily, but had advised him to
absent himself indefinitely and within the hour.

The general store and saloon of the old mining camp still stood at the
corner of the town facing the desert. A bleached and faded sign once
read, "Palace Emporium." The letters now seemed to be shrinking from
public gaze--vanishing into the wood as though ashamed of themselves.
The wording of the sign had been frequently and indifferently
punctuated. Each succeeding marksman had exploded his own theory, and
passed on.

Liquor was still to be obtained at the general store. Provisions were
occasionally teamed in and were made up of peculiarly conglomerate lots.
There were no women in Gophertown. There was little local gossip. There
was no regular watch kept on the outlands. Gophertown felt secure in
itself. Each man was his own argus. He was expected to know his enemies
by instinct. He was expected, as a usual thing, to settle his disputes
single-handed.

* * * * *

Silent Saunders was in the general store and saloon. He was disgusted in
that he had been unable to induce the citizens to ride out with him and
clean up Overland Red's claim. Overland had once been of them, even if
briefly. He had been popular, especially as he was then the quickest
man with a gun they had ever honored with their patronage. Also, the
Gophertown folk had recently received a warning letter from the
superintendent of a transcontinental railroad. They were not interested
in Saunders's proposal.

Saunders, coming from the saloon, was not a little surprised to see a
band of horsemen far out on the desert. He felt that their presence in
his vicinity had something to do with himself. He counted the horses.
There were six of them. He knew instantly that the riders were cowmen,
although he could not distinguish one from another. He beckoned to the
saloon-keeper.

"We could 'a' stopped that," he said, pointing toward the desert.

"Big bunch. One--two--three--six of 'em. _Big_ bunch to come visitin'
here."

Saunders gestured toward the canon behind Gophertown.

The saloon-keeper shook his head. "Don't think most of our boys will be
back this week. Brandin' that bunch of new stock. Takes time to do it
right."