"Well, here comes Parks and Santa Fe Smith," said Saunders. "That makes
four of us."

"Mebby--and mebby not," said the saloon-keeper. "That depends. Depends
on the party that's callin' and who they're callin' _on_."

"There's Sago--just ridin' the ledge trail. That's five."

"'Lige and Joe Kennedy are up at the corrals," said the saloon-keeper.
"They would hate to miss anything like this."

"Mebby they won't, if that bunch gets past us," said Saunders.

"Seen the time when you could handle them alone, didn't you, Si?"

"Yes, and I can now."

"Nix, Si. Your gun arms ain't what they was sence Overland Red winged
you."

"How in hell do you know he did?"

"I could tell you more. But come on in and have one on the house. If I
was you, I'd set with my back to the door and be taking a drink. Red
Summers never shot a man in the back yet. If he's playin' for _you_,
why, that gives you a chance to pull a gun."

"How about you?" queried Saunders.

"Me? None of my business. I'm here to push the booze."

"And you'll do your collectin' with a gun, or go broke, if it's Red
Summers and his friends."

"Tryin' to scare me because you are?" asked the bartender.

"Red helped Kennedy out of a mix once. Kennedy is his friend."

"But Joe ain't here. What's gettin' into you? How do you know it is Red,
anyway? You act queer."

"I got a hunch," said Saunders.

"Then you want to go into action quick, for when a gunman gets a hunch
that he knows who is trailin' him, it's a bad sign."

Saunders drummed on the table with his fingers. The drink of liquor had
restored his nerve. Perhaps the riders were not coming to visit him,
after all. He rose and stepped to the door. The oncoming horses were
near enough for him to distinguish the roan outlaw Yuma--Collie's horse.
Her rider's figure was only too familiar. Saunders fingered his belt.
Unbuckling it, he stepped back into the barroom and laid the
two-holstered guns and the belt on the table.

Parks, from up in the canon, rode up, tied his pony, and strolled to the
bar, nodding to Saunders. Following him came Santa Fe Smith, a
bow-legged individual in sweater and blue jeans. He nodded to Saunders.
Presently Sago, the Inyo County outlaw, came in, wheezing and
perspiring. Saunders stepped to the bar and called for "one all around."

As they drank two more ponies clattered up and 'Lige and Joe Kennedy
joined the group at the bar. "Hutch and Simpson are comin' afoot," said
Joe Kenne