"Is there anything th' matter with me?"
"I don't know you well enough for to answer that kerrect."
"Well, would you turn around an' stare at me, an' seem pained an' hurt? Do I look funny? Has anybody put a sign on my back?"
"You looks all right to me. What's th' matter?"
"Nothin', yet," reflected Bill slowly. "But there will be, mebby. You was mentionin' faro. Here 's a turn you can call: somebody in this wart of a two-by-nothin' town is goin' to run plumb into a big surprise. There 'll mebby be a loud noise an' some smoke where it starts from; an' a li'l round hole where it stops. When th' curious delegation now holdin' forth on th' street slips in here after I 'm in bed, an' makes inquiries about me, you can tell 'em that. An' if Mr.—Mr. Victoria drops in casual, tell him I 'm cleanin' my guns. Now then, show me where I 'm goin' to sleep."
Mr. Hawley very carefully led the way into the hall and turned into a room opposite the bar. "Here she is, stranger," he said, stepping back. But Bill was out in the hall listening. He looked into the room and felt oppressed.
"No she ain't," he answered, backing his intuition. "She is upstairs, where there is a li'l breeze. By th' Lord," he muttered under his breath. "This is some puzzle." He mounted the stairs shaking his head thoughtfully. "It shore is, it shore is."
The next morning when Bill whirled up to the Crazy M bunkhouse and dismounted before the door a puncher was emerging. He started to say something, noticed Bill's guns and went on without a word. Bill turned around and looked after him in amazement. "Well, what th' devil!" he growled. Before he could do anything, had he wished to, Mr. Oleson stepped quickly from the house, nodded and hurried toward the ranch house, motioning for Bill to follow. Entering the house, the foreman of the Crazy M waited impatiently for Bill to get inside, and then hurriedly closed the door.
"They 've got onto it some way," he said, his taciturnity gone; "but that don't make no difference if you 've got th' sand. I 'll pay you one hundred an' fifty a month, furnish yore cayuses an' feed you. I 'm losin' more 'n two hundred cows every month an' can't get a trace of th' thieves. Harris, Marshal of Clay Gulch, is stumped, too. He can't move without proof; you can. Th' first man to get is George Thomas, then his brother Art. By that time you 'll know how things lay. George Thomas is keepin' out of Harris' way. He killed a man last week over in Tuxedo an' Harris wants to take him over there. He 'll not help you, so don't ask him to." Before Bill could reply or recover from his astonishment Oleson continued and described several men. "Look out for ambushes. It 'll be th' hardest game you ever went up ag'in, an' if you ain't got th' sand to go through with it, say so."
Bill shook his head. "I got th' sand to go through with anythin' I starts, but I don't start here. I reckon you got th' wrong man. I come up here to look over a herd for Buck Peters; an' here you go shovin' wages like that at me. When I tells Buck what I 've been offered he 'll fall dead." He laughed. "Now I knows th' answer to a lot of things.