"It don't matter. They're all Scotty's horses. That's a cinch."
"I won'er eef de rest back een de heel. W'at you t'ink?"
"No, they ain't. Why, look here, Telescope, them six sorefoots tell the story. If the rustlers was holdin' the band in the hills they'd 'a' kept the six. But they didn't. They turned 'em over to Archer. That shows they was drivin' 'em, an' drivin' 'em some'ers near here. Well, the railroad ain't more'n fifty mile south. Farewell's about sixty mile north. If them rustlers got the band this far their best move would be to keep right on to the railroad an' ship the hosses east or west. An' I'll gamble that's what they've done."
Loudon gazed triumphantly at Laguerre. The latter nodded.
"You are right, you bet," he said, his eyes beginning to glitter. "I hope dem two odder boys geet a move on."
"They ought to pull in to-morrow. To-night, when I'm all sober again, we'll go down to the dance hall an' find out if Archer's made any little out-o'-town trips lately. Telescope, I'm shore enjoyin' this. To-morrow I'm goin' to make the acquaintance o' the Judge an' see what he thinks o' this rustler Loudon who goes spreadin' the Crossed Dumbbell brand up an' down the land. Yes, sir, I got to shake hands with Judge Allison."
Again mirth overcame him, and he had recourse to the blanket.
"I wouldn' go see dat Judge," advised Laguerre, with a dubious shake of the head. "She may not be de damfool. She might have you' face describe', huh. She might see onder de w'iskair. You leave heem 'lone, my frien'."
But Loudon remained firm in his resolve.
Mr. Archer was a good business man. His two fiddlers were excellent, and his girls were prettier than the average cow-town dance-hall women. Consequently, Mr. Archer's place was popular. When Loudon and Laguerre entered, four full sets were thumping through a polka on the dancing floor, and in the back room two gamblers sat behind their boxes, players two deep bordering the tables.