dy.

"That leaves Wagner and the Chink to hear from," said the saloon-keeper.

"Wagner's sick. I don't know where the Chink is. Everybody seems to 'a'
got up in time for dinner, this mornin', eh?" And big Joe Kennedy
laughed. "This here bar is right popular jest now."

"Goin' to be more popular," said the saloon-keeper.

"That so?" exclaimed several, facetiously.

"Ask Saunders there," said the saloon-keeper.

"Friends of yours, Silent?"

"Yes. Friends of mine."

"Whole six of 'em, eh?"

"Whole six of 'em."

"Well, we won't butt in. We'll give you lots of room."

Saunders said nothing. He paid for the liquor, and, stepping to the
table, sat with his back to the doorway. In front of him lay his guns,
placed handily, but with studied carelessness. He leaned naturally on
one elbow, as though half asleep. His hat was tilted over his brows.

From outside came the jingle of spurs and rein-chains and the distant
sound of voices. Saunders began leisurely to roll a cigarette. He laid a
few matches on the table. Several of the men at the bar grinned
knowingly.

Then came the gritting of heels on the hardpacked trail and Overland
Red stood in the doorway. "Mornin', gents--and Saunders," he said,
glancing at the figure seated back toward him.

"Hello, Red!" exclaimed Joe Kennedy. "Out early, ain't you. Have a
drink."

"Not out too early. Hello, Lusk!"

"How, Red," said the saloon-keeper.

"Where's your friends. Ask 'em in," said Kennedy.

"Shall I ask 'em in, Saunders?" queried Overland, his voice edged with a
double meaning.

"Not on my account," said Saunders over his shoulder.

"All right. Let's have a drink, boys."

Even "Go-Light" Sago, the vilest of the Gophertown crew, admired
Overland's coolness in turning his back on Saunders and facing the bar.

For a second Saunders's fingers twitched. He glanced up.

Joe Kennedy was looking at him over his glass of whiskey. "Ain't you
drinkin', Silent?" he asked.

"With some folks," said Saunders.

Overland whirled round. "Have a drink with me, then."

Saunders laughed.

"Then you don't smoke either, while I'm here," said Overland, his hand
on his hip.

"That so?"

"Yes, that's so! When you try to pull that old bluff of a match-game on
me, wait till I'm a hundred and four years old, Silent. That gun-trick
died of old age. Think up a new one."

"Ain't you talkin' a little loud for polite sassiety?" questioned Sago,
addressing Overland.

"Seein'