evident that Hanson had gone, for her mother sat
in a rocking-chair before the window, her head tilted back, fast asleep.

"What do you suppose your Pop'll say to your signing up with Hanson?"
asked Flick, as they passed through the gate.

"I suppose we'll have a row that'll make the house rock," she answered
indifferently, dismissing him with a nod.

CHAPTER V

Hanson had learned of Flick's return to Paloma almost as soon as the
Pearl, although from a different source; Jimmy, the bar-keeper, having
informed him of the fact. He had sauntered into Chickasaw Pete's place
as was his wont, soon after breakfast on the same morning that Pearl had
walked in the mesquite alleys with Flick. This he selected as the most
agreeable place in which he could while away the time until a suitable
hour for either seeking Pearl, or else hastening to keep an appointment
with her. And Jimmy, with the same instinct that a squirrel hides nuts,
hoarded such chance bits of gossip as came his way and brought them out
one by one for the delectation of those with whom he conversed.

"Hello, Paloma Morning Journal!" called Hanson as he entered the door,
his large, genial presence radiating optimism and good cheer. "How many
big black headlines this morning?"

Jimmy's smile made creases in his round, red cheeks above his white
linen jacket. "Pretty shy of headlines," he chuckled. "Nothing but a few
personals."

"No murders, no lynchings, nor merry cowboys on bucking broncos shooting
up the town?" exclaimed Hanson, in affected dismay. "My! My! What is
the West coming to? I'm afraid you ain't serving them the right kind of
poison, Jimmy."

"It's so bad I won't touch it myself." Jimmy defended himself with
professional pride. "Have some?"

"Not I. I got to be going, anyway."

Seeing that Hanson was about to follow this intention, Jimmy drew forth
his first nut. "Bob Flick got back last night," he said, and then,
abashed by the meagerness of this bit of information, attempted to
enhance its value. "I'd like to know," leaning his elbow on the bar and
his chin in his hand, "I'd like to know where he went and what he went
for."

Hanson did not alter his lounging pose and yet, indefinably, his
attitude became more tense, as if, in a quick riveting of attention,
every sense had become alert. "He's doing a good mining business, ain't
he?" he spoke carelessly. "I should think there would be a good many
things that would take him out of P