maybe not. There's a dozen Williams Cache men in town."

"But those fellows are not really dangerous, Bob, though they may be
troublesome," observed Smith reflectively.

"Well, what's your plan?" blurted Gene Johnson.

"I haven't any, Gene," returned Smith, with perfect simplicity. "My
only plan is to ride into town and serve my papers, if I can. I've got
a deputyship--and that I'm going to do right away. If you, Bob, or
both of you, will happen in about thirty minutes later you'll get the
news and perhaps see the fun. Much obliged for your feed, Gene; come
down to Medicine Bend any time and I'll fill you up. I want you both
for the elk hunt next fall, remember that. Bucks is coming, and is
going to bring Brown and Henson and perhaps Atterbury and Gibbs and
some New Yorkers; and McCloud's brother, the preacher, is coming out
and they are all right--all of them."

The only street in Oroville faces the river, and the buildings string
for two or three blocks along modest bluffs. Not a soul was anywhere
in sight when Whispering Smith rode into town, save that across the
street from where he dismounted and tied his horse three men stood in
front of the Blackbird.

They watched the new arrival with languid interest. Smith walked
stiffly over toward the saloon to size up the men before he should
enter it. The middle man of the group, with a thin red face and very
blue eyes, was chewing tobacco in an unpromising way. Before Smith was
half-way across the street he saw the hands of the three men falling
to their hips. Taking care, however, only to keep the men between him
and the saloon door, Smith walked directly toward them. "Boys, have
you happened to see Gene or Bob Johnson to-day, any of you?" He threw
back the brim of his Stetson as he spoke.

"Hold your hand right there--right where it is," said the blue-eyed
man sharply.

Whispering Smith smiled, but held his hand rather awkwardly upon his
hat-brim.

"No," continued the spokesman, "we ain't none of us happened to see
Bob or Gene Johnson to-day; but we happen to seen Whispering Smith,
and we'll blow your face off if you move it an inch."

Smith laughed. "I never quarrel with a man that's got the drop on me,
boys. Now, this is sudden but unexpected. Do I know any of you?" He
looked from one face to another before him, with a wide reach in his
field of vision for the three hands that were fast on three
pistol-butts. "Hold on! I've met you somewhere," he said with