ng, turning his back carefully on
a new-comer as he made the suggestion.

"Where--there? No! Yes, hold on, that's the man there now! Hold on,
now!" urged Bill, struggling with the excitement of ten hours and ten
dollars all in one day. "His name sounded like Fogarty."

As Dancing spoke, Sinclair's eyes riveted on the new face at the other
side of the gambling-room. "Fogarty, hell!" he exclaimed, starting.
"Stand right still, Du Sang; don't look around. That man is Whispering
Smith."

CHAPTER XII

PARLEY

It was recalled one evening not long ago at the Wickiup that the
affair with Sinclair had all taken place within a period of two years,
and that practically all of the actors in the event had been together
and in friendly relation on a Thanksgiving Day at the Dunning ranch
not so very long before the trouble began. Dicksie Dunning was away at
school at the time, and Lance Dunning was celebrating with a riding
and shooting fest and a barbecue.

The whole country had been invited. Bucks was in the mountains on an
inspection trip, and Bill Dancing drove him with a party of railroad
men over from Medicine Bend. The mountain men for a hundred and
fifty miles around were out. Gene and Bob Johnson, from Oroville and
the Peace River, had come with their friends. From Williams Cache
there was not only a big delegation--more of one than was really
desirable--but it was led by old John Rebstock himself. When the
invitation is general, lines cannot be too closely drawn. Not
only was Lance Dunning something of a sport himself, but on the Long
Range it is part of a stockman's creed to be on good terms with his
neighbors. At a Thanksgiving Day barbecue not even a mountain
sheriff would ask questions, and Ed Banks, though present, respected
the holiday truce. Cowboys rode that day in the roping contest who
were from Mission Creek and from Two Feather River.

Among the railroad people were George McCloud, Anderson, the assistant
superintendent, Farrell Kennedy, chief of the special service, and his
right-hand man, Bob Scott. In especial, Sinclair's presence at the
barbecue was recalled. He had some cronies with him from among his
up-country following, and was introducing his new bridge foreman,
Karg, afterward known as Flat Nose, and George Seagrue, the Montana
cowboy. Sinclair fraternized that day with the Williams Cache men, and
it was remarked even then that though a railroad man he appeared
somewhat outside the rai