"Puts me in mind of _him_--back there in Big Dry. 'Spose I ort
to buried him, but it don't make no difference, now." He passed a
small phial across the bar. "Fifteen or twenty drops," he said
laconically, and laughed. "Nothin' like keepin' yer eyes an' ears
open. Doc kicked like a steer first, but he seen I had his hide hung
on the fence onless he loosened up. But he sure wouldn't weep none at
my demise. If ever I git sick I'll have some other Doc. I'd as soon
send fer a rattlesnake." The man glanced at the clock. "It's workin'
'long to'ards noon, I'll jest slip down to the Long Horn an' stampede
the bunch over here."
CHAPTER IV
CINNABAR JOE
In the dining car of the side-tracked train Alice Marcum's glance
strayed from the face of her table companion to the window. Another
cavalcade of riders had swept into town and with a chorus of wild yells
the crowd in the Long Horn surged out to greet them. A moment later
the dismounted ones rushed to their horses, leaped into the saddles
and, joined by the newcomers, dashed at top speed for perhaps thirty
yards and dismounted to crowd into another saloon across whose front
the word HEADQUARTERS was emblazoned in letters of flaming red.
"They're just like a lot of boys," exclaimed the girl with a smile,
"The idea of anybody mounting a horse to ride _that_ distance!"
"They're a rough lot, I guess.
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