The clang of a bell sounded below and shortly after footsteps thudded heavily on the stoop.
“We’d better get down there ahead of the army,” said Chuck, throwing open the door of their own room and starting down the stairs. Slim followed, but at a more leisurely pace. He had heard someone moving about in the next room and he was curious to know what their neighbor looked like. The door opened and a man, dressed in typical cowboy attire, stepped into the hall. His right arm was in a sling. There was scarcely enough light to see his features clearly in the dusk of the hall, but Slim felt certain that the man was Maxie Denkman, who had registered three months before. He was also the Maxie he had wounded on the Sky High trail.
“Pretty hot today,” said Slim as the other man approached.
“Yeh, a little warm. I guess I saw you riding in a while ago.”
They were at the head of the stairs where the light was better and Slim saw that the other man was watching him keenly. His eyes shifted down to the gun, which swung at Slim’s right hip. Then they jerked back again.
“Going to stay in this country long?” Slim thought there was just a tinge too much anxiety in the tone.
“Hard to say. My pardner and I are just drifting, trying to find a good outfit to tie up with.”
“Then you won’t hang around here long. Cattle business in the valley is in a bad way. I hear lots of talk about rustlers, but I guess it’s poor management more than anything.”
“We’re willing to work cheap if the outfit looks like it will come through,” said Slim.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and turned into the dining room. Half a dozen men were already seated at the one table and the food was disappearing at a rapid rate.