Diamond brand, white stockin' on th' off front prop, with a habit of
scratchin' itself every other minute?" went on Mr. Connors.

"Slim Travennes," replied the proprietor, flopping a flapjack. Mr.
Cassidy reflectively scratched the back of his hand and looked innocent,
but his mind was working overtime.

"Who's Slim Travennes?" Asked Mr. Connors, never having heard of that
person, owing to the reticence of his friend.

"Captain of th' vigilantes."

"What does he look like on th' general run?" Blandly inquired Mr.
Cassidy, wishing to verify his suspicions. He thought of the trouble
he had with Mr. Travennes up in Santa Fe and of the reputation that
gentleman possessed. Then the fact that Mr. Travennes was the leader
of the local vigilantes came to his assistance and he was sure that
the captain had a hand in the change. All these points existed in misty
groups in his mind, but the next remark of the landlord caused them to
rush together and reveal the plot.

"Good," said the landlord, flopping another flapjack, "and a warnin' to
hoss thieves.

"Ahem," coughed Mr. Cassidy and then continued, "is he a tall, lanky,
yaller-headed son-of-a-gun, with a big nose an' lots of ears?"

"Mebby so," answered the host.

"Urn, slopping over into bad Sioux," thought Mr. Cassidy, and then said
aloud, "How long has he hung around this here layout?" At the same time
passing a warning glance at his companion.

The landlord straightened up. "Look here, stranger, if yu hankers after
his pedigree so all-fired hard yu had best pump him."

"I told yu this here feller wasn't a man what would give away all he
knowed," lied Mr. Connors, turning to his friend and indicating the
host. "He ain't got time for that. Anybody can see that he is a powerful
busy man. An' then he ain't no child."

Mr. Cassidy thought that the landlord could tell all he knew in about
five minutes and then not break any speed records for conversation, but
he looked properly awed and impressed. "Well, yu needn't go an' get mad
about it! I didn't know, did I?"

"Who's gettin' mad?" Pugnaciously asked Mr. Connors. After his injured
feelings had been soothed by Mr. Cassidy's sullen silence he again
turned to the landlord.

"What did this Travennes look like when yu saw him last?" Coaxed Mr.
Connors.

"Th' same as he does now, as yu can see by lookin' out of th' window.
That's him down th' street," enlightened the host, thawing to the
pleasant Mr. Connors.

Mr.