XIV

CHEYENNE PLAYS BIG

Watching from his darkened window, Cheyenne had seen Panhandle leave the
Hole-in-the-Wall, and stride up the street alone. It was the first time
Cheyenne had seen Sears since he had taken the single room opposite the
gambling-house. Cheyenne stepped back, drew down the curtain, and turned
on the light. The bare board floor was littered with cigarette stubs. A
pair of saddle-bags hung on the iron bedstead. Other furniture was a
chair, a scratched and battered washstand, a cracked mirror. Standing by
the washstand Cheyenne took his gun from its holster, half-cocked it,
and punched out the loaded cartridges. He pulled the pin, pushed the
cylinder out with his thumb, and examined it against the light.
Carefully he cleaned and replaced the cylinder, reloaded it, held the
hammer back, and spun the cylinder with his hand. Finally he thrust the
gun in the holster and, striding to the bed, sat down, his chin in his
hands.

Somewhere out there on the street, or in the Hole-in-the-Wall, he would
meet his enemy--in a few minutes, perhaps. There would be no wordy
argument. They understood each other, and had understood each other,
since that morning, long ago when they had passed each other on the
road--Panhandle riding in to Laramie and Cheyenne and Little Jim riding
from the abandoned home. Cheyenne thought of Little Jim, of his wife,
and, by some queer trick of mind, of Bartley. He knew that the Easterner
was in town. The stableman at the Top-Notch had told him. Well, he had
seen Panhandle. Now he would go out and meet him, or overtake him.

Some one turned from the street into the hall below and rapidly climbed
the stairs. Cheyenne heard a knock at the door opposite his. That room
was unoccupied. Then came a brisk knock at his own door.

"What do you want?"

"Is that you, Cheyenne?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Bartley. I just found out from Colonel Stevenson where you were
camping."

Cheyenne stepped to the door and unlocked it.

Bartley entered, glanced round the room, and then shook hands with
Cheyenne. "Been a week trying to find you. How are you and how are the
horses? Man, but it was a long, lonesome ride from San Andreas! If it
hadn't been for that dog that adopted me--by the way, Colonel Stevenson
was telling Senator Brown that Panhandle is in town. I suppose you know
it."

"I seen him, this evenin'."

"So did I. Just passed him as I came down here. The Colonel said you
were camping