The young clerk, with an encouraging smile at Jeff, bowed himself out as the manager seated himself at his desk and began to write.
“You know the country pretty well between the Fork and the Summit, Mr. Briggs?” he said, without looking up.
“I lived there,” said Jeff.
“That was some months ago, wasn't it?”
“Six months,” said Jeff, with a sigh.
“It's changed for the worse since your house was shut up. There's a long stretch of unsettled country infested by bad characters.”
Jeff sat silent. “Briggs.”
“Sir?”
“The last man but one who preceded you was shot by road agents.” *
* Highway robbers.