John Carr made a special trip back to Desert Valley ranch for a word with Howard. He rode hard and there was a look of anxiety in his eyes when he came upon his friend smoking thoughtfully in the big living-room of the ranch-house. It was late evening and a week after the departure of Howard's guests.
Howard dragged his boot heels down from the table top when he saw who it was and jumped to his feet his hand outstretched.
'Hello, John old boy,' he cried warmly. What's the good wind blowing you over this way already?'
Carr tossed his hat to the table, drew up a chair for himself and took a cigar before he answered. Then it was quietly and earnestly.
'Met up with Jim Courtot the other night, I hear?' he began.
Howard nodded and waited, his look curious.
'Well,' went on Carr, 'I wish you hadn't. He's a treacherous beast if this man's land ever cradled one. He's looking for you, Al.'
'He knows where to find me,' said Alan shortly. And then, 'Just what's worrying you, Johnnie?'
'I've known Jim for seventeen or eighteen years,' rejoined Carr. 'He's a cold, hard, calculating and absolutely crooked proposition. During that time I've never known him to go on a drunk more than two or three times. And every time there was trouble.'
'He's drinking now, then?'