in town now. I reckon Wally Snaith has given orders
not to start anything."

"Maybe Roush an' Champa have been given orders to take care of Jim."

Jean doubted this and said so. "Snaith doesn't play his hand under the
table. But, of course, Sanders may have tipped 'em off to do it."

Clanton joined them presently and the three men walked downtown. The gay
smile dropped from Jim's face the moment he stepped down from the porch.
Already his eyes had narrowed and over them had come a kind of film. They
searched every dark spot on the road.

"Let's go to Tolleson's," he proposed abruptly.

There was a moment of silence before Billie made a counter-proposition.
"No, let's go back to the hotel."

"All right. You fellows go to the hotel. Meet you there later."

The eyes of Prince and Roubideau met. Not another word was spoken. Both
of them knew that Clanton intended to show himself in public where any
one that wanted him might find him. They turned toward Tolleson's, but
took the precaution to enter by the back door.

The sound of shuffling feet, of tinkling piano and whining fiddle, gave
notice in advance that the dancers were on the floor. Clanton took the
precaution to ease the guns in their holsters in order to make sure of a
swift draw.

His forethought was unnecessary. Neither Roush nor Mysterious Pete was
among the dancers, the gamblers, or at the bar. The three friends passed
out of the front door and walked to the Proctor House. Clanton had done
all that he felt was required of him and was willing to drop the matter
for the night.

Chapter XX

Exit Mysterious Pete

In the cold, gray dawn of the morning after, Mysterious Pete straddled
down the main street of Los Portales with a dark-brown taste in his
mouth. He was feeling ugly. For he had imbibed a large quantity of
liquor. He had gambled and lost. He had boasted of what he intended to do
to one James Clanton, now generally known as "Go-Get-'Em Jim,"

This last in particular was a mistake. Moreover, it was quite out of
accord with the usual custom of Mr. Champa. When he made up his mind to
increase by one the number of permanent residents upon Boot Hill he bided
his time, waited till the suspicions of his victim were lulled, and shot
down his man without warning. The one fixed rule of his life was never to
take an unnecessary chance. Now he was taking one.

Every chain has its weakest link. Mr. Champa drunk was a rock upon which
Mr. Champa so