upstairs office. "How goes it?" He was in his riding rig,
just as he had come from a late supper.

When he asked for news McCloud told him the story of the trouble with
Lance Dunning over the survey, and added that he had referred the
matter to Glover. He told then of his unpleasant surprise when riding
home afterward.

"Yes," assented Smith, looking with feverish interest at McCloud's
head; "I heard about it."

"That's odd, for I haven't said a word about the matter to anybody but
Marion Sinclair, and you haven't seen her."

"I heard up the country. It is great luck that he missed you."

"Who missed me?"

"The man that was after you."

"The bullet went through my hat."

"Let me see the hat."

McCloud produced it. It was a heavy, broad-brimmed Stetson, with a
bullet-hole cut cleanly through the front and the back of the crown.
Smith made McCloud put the hat on and describe his position when the
shot was fired. McCloud stood up, and Whispering Smith eyed him and
put questions.

"What do you think of it?" asked McCloud when he had done.

Smith leaned forward on the table and pushed McCloud's hat toward him
as if the incident were closed. "There is no question in my mind, and
there never has been, but that Stetson puts up the best hat worn on
the range."

McCloud raised his eyebrows. "Why, thank you! Your conclusion clears
things so. After you speak a man has nothing to do but guess."

"But, by Heaven, George," exclaimed Smith, speaking with unaccustomed
fervor, "Miss Dicksie Dunning is a hummer, _isn't_ she? That child
will have the whole range going in another year. To think of her
standing up and lashing her cousin in that way when he was browbeating
a railroad man!"

"Where did you hear about that?"

"The whole Crawling Stone country is talking about it. You never told
me you had a misunderstanding with Dicksie Dunning at Marion's.
Loosen up!"

"I will loosen up in the way you do. What scared me most, Gordon, was
waiting for the second shot. Why didn't he fire again?"

"Doubtless he thought he had you the first time. Any man big enough to
start after you is not used to shooting twice at two hundred and fifty
yards. He probably thought you were falling out of the saddle; and it
was dark. I can account for everything but your reaching the pass so
late. How did you spend all your time between the ranch and the
foothills?"

McCloud saw there was no escape from telling of his meeting with
Dicksie D