“No, I ain’t hintin’. But I’m doin’ some tall thinkin’.”
“You can give it a name if you’re half a man.”
Johnny turned away sadly.
“I guess I don’t measure up,” he said slowly. “And, besides, I’d hate to give tongue to it. But I’ll say this much”—and he wheeled on old Kent again—“I’ll answer your first question. I’m goin’ and goin’ when I leave here. And I’m goin’ to keep on movin’ till I find out who killed that man in Standing Rock. Till I do, my address is in my hat. I know you’ve got the low-down on me. Well, let it ride. No matter what you think, I shoot square. You’re rich, you’ve got big friends; I know what you can do to me. Hop to it! But don’t you ever forgit that while I live I love your daughter. And if I ever amount to anythin’, and she’ll have me, I’ll come back and marry her. And you can please go to hell!”
CHAPTER IX
TWO OLD MEN
The following morning at eleven o’clock Johnny and Tony sent their tired ponies across the newfangled concrete bridge which spanned the Humboldt on upper Bridge Street.
Winnemucca lay somnolent in the midday sun, the street so deep with dust that it softened the sound of their horses’ hoofs to a dull pad-pad as they continued on past Rinehart’s general store and the new State Bank building. The two men had ridden all night. In fact, they had put a staggering number of miles behind them since they had left Standing Rock the preceding day.
Johnny swung off his horse in front of the Eldorado Hotel. He had long since decided that he would find Molly registered there. His method of ascertaining this was indeed strange, for, instead of going to the desk where the register lay open to public view, he made directly for the bar. Whitey Carr, the bartender, nodded to him. Johnny said “How?” and ordered a drink. It was to win this bit of recognition that he had entered the room. He had been there often enough to have more than a nodding acquaintance with Whitey and his co-workers. In truth, Johnny’s intimacy with the craft was well-nigh universal.
Being remembered, and thusly armed for his attack on the register, he searched for some written sign of the girl’s presence. Her name did not reward him. Whitey Carr saw his perturbance and through the swinging doors he called:
“Who you looking for, Johnny?”