“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. Cassidy adopted the suggestion and frowned. Mr. Travennes and two companions were walking toward the corral and Mr. Cassidy once again slid out of the window, his friend going by the door. CHAPTER XIII. Travennes' Discomfiture When Mr. Travennes looked over the corral fence he was much chagrined to see a man and a Colt both paying strict attention to his nose. “Mornin', Duke,” said the man with the gun. “Lose anything?” Mr. Travennes looked back at his friends and saw Mr. Connors sitting on a rock holding two guns. Mr. Travennes' right and left wings were the targets and they pitted their frowns against Mr. Connors' smile. “Not that I knows of,” replied Mr. Travennes, shifting his feet uneasily. “Find anything?” Came from Mr. Cassidy as he sidled out of the gate. “Nope,” replied the captain of the Terrors, eying the Colt. “Are yu in the habit of payin' early mornin' calls to this here corral?” persisted Mr. Cassidy, playing with the gun. “Ya-as. That's my business--I'm th' captain of the vigilantes.” “That's too bad,” sympathized Mr. Cassidy, moving forward a step. Mr. Travennes looked put out and backed off. “What yu mean, stickin' me up this-away?” He asked indignantly. “Yu needn't go an' get mad,” responded Mr. Cassidy. “Just business. Yore cayuse an' another shore climbed this corral fence last night an' ate up our bronchs, an' I just nachurly want to know about it.”