heel an' a toe and a po'ky-o_,
_A heel an' a toe and a po'ky-o_

--you know that one."

"I've heard it. She'll get tired of that watch after a while, Taterleg."

"Maybe. If she don't, I guess I'll have to figger some way to beat it."

"What are Jedlick's attractions? Surely not good looks."

"Money, Duke; that's the answer to him--money. He's got a salt barrel
full of it; the old man favors him for that money."

"That's harder to beat than a music box in a watch."

"You _can't_ beat it, Duke. What's good looks by the side of money? Or
brains? Well, they don't amount to cheese!"

"Are you goin' to sidestep in favor of Jedlick? A man with all your
experience and good clothes!"

"Me? I'm a-goin' to lay that feller out on a board!"

They hitched at the hotel rack, that looking more respectable, as
Taterleg said, than to leave their horses in front of the saloon. Alta
was heard singing in the interior; there were two railroad men belonging
to a traveling paint gang on the porch smoking their evening pipes.

Lambert felt that it was his duty to buy cigars in consideration of the
use of the hitching-rack. Wood appeared in the office door as they came
up the steps, and put his head beyond the jamb, looking this way and
that, like a man considering a sortie with enemies lying in wait.

Taterleg went into the parlor to offer the incense of his cigar in the
presence of Alta, who was cooing a sentimental ballad to her guitar. It
seemed to be of parting, and the hope of reunion, involving one named
Irene. There was a run in the chorus accompaniment which Alta had down
very neatly.

The tinkling guitar, the simple, plaintive melody, sounded to Lambert as
refreshing as the plash of a brook in the heat of the day. He stood
listening, his elbow on the show case, thinking vaguely that Alta had a
good voice for singing babies to sleep.

Wood stood in the door again, his stump of arm lifted a little with an
alertness about it that made Lambert think of a listening ear. He looked
up and down the street in that uneasy, inquiring way that Lambert had
remarked on his arrival, then came back and got himself a cigar. He
stood across the counter from Lambert a little while, smoking, his brows
drawn in trouble, his eyes shifting constantly to the door.

"Duke," said he, as if with an effort, "there's a man in town lookin'
for you. I thought I'd tell you."

"Lookin' for me? Who is he?"

"Sim Hargus."

"You don't mean Nick?