er for the
name of the doctor who took care of the wounded Jerry Strann.

"There ain't no doc," said the waitress. "It's Fatty Matthews, the
deputy marshal, who takes care of that Strann--bad luck to him! Fatty's
in the barroom now. But what's the matter? You seem like you was hearin'
something?"

"I am," replied Daniels enigmatically. "I'm hearin' something that would
be music for the ears of Old Nick."

And he turned on his heel and strode for the barroom. There he found
Fatty in the very act of disposing of a stiff three-fingers of red-eye.
Daniels stepped to the bar, poured his own drink, and then stood toying
with the glass. For though the effect of red-eye may be pleasant enough,
it has an essence which appalls the stoutest heart and singes the most
leathery throat; it is to full-grown men what castor oil is to a child.
Why men drink it is a mystery whose secret is known only to the
profound soul of the mountain-desert. But while Daniels fingered his
glass he kept an eye upon the other man at the bar.

It was unquestionably the one he sought. The excess flesh of the deputy
marshal would have brought his nickname to the mind of an imbecile.
However, Fatty was humming softly to himself, and it is not the habit of
men who treat very sick patients to sing.

"I'll hit it agin," said Fatty. "I need it."

"Have a bad time of it to-day?" asked O'Brien sympathetically.

"Bad time to-day? Yep, an' every day is the same. I tell you, O'Brien,
it takes a pile of nerve to stand around that room expectin' Jerry to
pass out any minute, and the eyes of that devil Mac Strann followin' you
every step you make. D'you know, if Jerry dies I figure Mac to go at my
throat like a bulldog."

"You're wrong, Fatty," replied O'Brien. "That ain't his way about it. He
takes his time killin' a man. Waits till he can get him in a public
place and make him start the picture. That's Mac Strann! Remember
Fitzpatrick? Mac Strann followed Fitz nigh onto two months, but Fitz
knew what was up and he never would make a move. He knowed that if he
made a wrong pass it would be his last. So he took everything and let it
pass by. But finally it got on his nerves. One time--it was right here
in my barroom, Fatty----"

"The hell you say!"

"Yep, that was before your time around these parts. But Fitz had a
couple of jolts of red-eye under his vest and felt pretty strong. Mac
Strann happened in and first thing you know they was at it. Well, Fitz
was