d him. He followed Simeral into the office and back
past the wash room, through the hallway leading to the sample rooms.
Opening the door of the first of these, Tenison pressed a light button,
and motioning Simeral to enter, followed him into the room, closed the
door, locked it, and sat down facing the rancher: "I want to get a
message to Jim Laramie, Ben," he began at once. "You know what's been
going on here today?"

The old rancher nodded silently.

"Can you ride to the Falling Wall for me right away with a word for
Laramie?"

Simeral said nothing, but his heavy eyes closed as he nodded again.

"Laramie's gone home. He thinks Van Horn is in jail. The story is,"
continued Tenison, "that Van Horn and old Barb quarreled, that they
came to blows and that Barb turned Stone and him over to Druel again to
lock up." Tenison spoke slowly and impressively: "Tell Laramie," he
said, "I copper all that stuff--every bit of it. Tell him to look out.
I don't know what them fellows have got in their heads; but it's
something. Van Horn won't be in jail long."

"He's out again now."

Tenison eyed his messenger steadily: "What do you mean?"

"I just come from Hinchcliffe's saloon. They've been out an hour."

Hard as the blow struck home, Tenison did not bat a lash: "We may be
too late," he said. "It's worth trying. Warn Jim if you can."

"I can."

"There'll be a good horse for you at Kitchen's. Ask McAlpin for it.
Tell him I couldn't get hold of a man any quicker. Will Jim sleep at
your place tonight?"

Simeral shook his head: "No tellin'."

Tenison rose. Drawing from a trousers pocket a roll of bills, he
slipped off several and passed them to Simeral.

"What's this f'r?" asked Simeral, looking at the money as it lay across
his hand and then at Tenison.

The gambler regarded him evenly: "You're getting old, Ben."

"Not when it comes to doin' a turn f'r Jim."

Tenison literally swore the money on him. "Ride hard," he said. "An
hour may make the difference."

Simeral listened to the injunction but he was putting the money away as
slowly and carefully as if he never expected to see money again. This
done, he hitched his trousers, shifted his quid, pushed his hat and
followed Tenison across the room. He was so slow that Tenison was
forced inwardly to smile at his own exasperation: "Never get nervous,
do you, Ben?" he asked imperturbably.

"Nervous?"

Tenison, unlocking the street door of the long r