“We done heard what you asked. It ain’t etiquette in Nevada to ask questions unless you aim to take a hand in the play. You ain’t declarin’ yoreself in, are you?” “Bet your boots I’m not. None of my business.” “You said something that time.” The former Aurora man walked away. The man from the Western Reserve looked after him resentfully. “This is the darndest place. I ask a question, and you’d think I’d made a break of some kind. Is there any harm in what I said? I leave it to any of you. Is there?” he asked querulously. Jim Budd drew him aside and explained. “Hell’s bells, man, don’t be so inquisitive! I knew a fellow lived to be a hundred onct ’tendin’ to his own business. But I’ll tell you who Hugh McClintock is, since yore system is so loaded with why-fors and who-is-hes. The Kid’s the man that ran Dutch outa the Esmeralda country. He’s the man whose vote saved Irish Tom from being hanged when the stranglers got busy at Aurora. He’s the shotgun messenger who bumped off Black Hank Perronoud when he held up the Carson stage. No gamer man ever threw leg over leather. I’d oughta know, for he rode pony express for me two years through the Indian country.” “Are he and Dutch going to fight?” “Great jumpin’ Jehosophat, how do I know?” rasped the fat man irritably. “I’m no tin god on wheels, an’ I ain’t no seventh son of a seventh son. If I was I’d go locate me a million-dollar mine _pronto_. You know the layout well as I do. Do yore own guessin’, an’ _do it private_.” Dutch whispered a word in the ears of his satellites Vance and Hopkins later in the day. Those two gentlemen made together a tour of the town and tore down all the bills McClintock had tacked up. CHAPTER XIX McCLINTOCK BILLS THE TOWN Hugh’s advertisement did not appear in the _Banner_ next morning. The editor had killed it as soon as he learned that its purpose was to annoy Dutch. He knew several safer amusements than that. Young McClintock might enjoy flirting with death, but as the responsible head of a family the editor was in quite a different position. To say that Hugh was enjoying himself is to stretch the truth. But experience had taught him that the bold course is sometimes the least hazardous. A line from a play he had seen at Piper’s Opera House not long since flashed to his mind. “Out of this nettle danger, we pluck this flower safety.” He would go through, if necessary, to a fighting finish. The chances were that his scorn of risk would lessen it. Accompanied by his faithful coloured bill sticker, Hugh redecorated the town with posters. Jim Budd came wheezing down Turkey Creek Avenue. “You billin’ the town for a circus, Kid?” he asked, his fat paunch shaking. And when Hugh had stepped forward to him he added a warning in a lower voice: “Dutch is waitin’ for you in front of Dodsons’ store; least, it looks to me like he’s aimin’ to call yore hand.” “Any one with him?”