Accustomed
to dealing with frontier folk, he argued that Sundown's imprisonment
would eventually bring to light evidence leading to the identity of the
murderer. It was a game of bluff, and at such a game he played a
master hand.

The stranger seemed unusually affable in the morning. He made the
fire, and, before Sundown had finished eating, had the two ponies
saddled and ready for the road. Sundown thought him a little too
agreeable. He was even more perplexed when the man said that he had
changed his mind and would ride to Antelope with him. "Thought you
said you was goin' to the Concho?"

"Well, seeing you say Jack can't ride yet, guess I'll wait."

"He can talk, all right," asserted Sundown.

The other paid no apparent attention to this remark but rode along
pointing out landmarks and discoursing largely upon the weather, the
feed, and price of hay and grain and a hundred topics associated with
ranch-life. Sundown, forgetful of his pose as a vaquero of long
standing (unintentional), assumed rather the attitude of one absorbing
information on such topics than disseminating it. Nor did he
understand the stranger's genial invitation to have supper with him at
Antelope that night, as they rode into the town. He knew, however,
that he was creating a sensation, which he attributed to his Mexican
spurs and chaps. People stared at him as he stalked down the street
and turned to stare again. His companion seemed very well known in
Antelope. Nearly every one spoke to him or waved a greeting. Yet
there was something peculiar in their attitudes. There was an
aloofness about them that was puzzling.

"He sure looks like the bad man from Coyote Gulch," remarked one who
stood in front of "The Last Chance" saloon.

"He ain't heeled," asserted the speaker's companion.

"Heeled! Do you reckon Jim's plumb loco? Jim took care of that."

All of which was music to Sundown. He was making an impression, yet he
was not altogether happy. He did not object to being classed as a bad
man so long as he knew at heart that he was anything but that. Still,
he was rather proud of his instant notoriety.

They stopped in front of a square, one-story building. Sundown's
companion unlocked the door. "Come on in," he said. "We'll have a
smoke and talk things over."

"But I was to see Mr. Kennedy the lawyer," asserted Sundown.

"So? Well, it ain't quite time to see him yet."

Sundown's back became cold and he stared