"What are you doing here?"
Curly was a sorry looking specimen of humanity as he stood before his stern questioner, the ruler of Glen West. His clothes were torn, and his face dirty and unshaven. His eyes glowed with a sullen light of hatred, mingled with a nameless fear as he glanced furtively around the room.
"What are you doing here?" Weston repeated. "Why don't you answer?
Are you deaf?"
"I was prospectin'," was the surly reply.
"Where?"
"In the hills, north of Crooked Trail."
"And why did you come through the pass?"
"Me pardner an' I got lost; that's why."
"Who was your partner?"
"Slim Fales, from Big Draw."