"Pullin' a gun has its advantages, I admits," replied Johnny, who had his own ideas about Dave's ability in that line. Dave, he thought, could get a gun out quick enough for the average need--being a bartender, and still alive, was proof enough of that. He walked toward the door. "If you was to get a big hoss--a single-footer, you could ride, all right." He went around and entered the hotel, mentally numbering it. Arranging for a week's board and bed for himself and Pepper, he hurried out to the wash bench just outside the dining-room door, where he found two tin basins, a bucket of water, a cake of yellow soap, a towel, and two men using them all. Taking his turn he in turn followed them into the dining-room and chose the fourth and last table, which was next to a window. The meal was better than he had expected but, hungry as he was, he did not eat as hurriedly as was his habit. Fragments of the conversation of the two punchers in the corner reached and interested him. It had to do with the SV ranch, as near as he could judge, and helped him to build the skeleton upon which he hoped to hang a body by dint of investigation and questioning. The episode of that morning had occurred on the SV ranch if the brands on the cattle he had seen meant anything. The woman's name was Arnold, and she had a father and a brother, the latter a boy. There was a fragment about "th' Doc," but just what it was he did not hear, except that it was coupled to the Bar H. Also, something was afoot, but it was so cautiously mentioned that he gained no information about it. Finishing before him, the two men went out, and soon rode past the window, mounted on Triangle horses. He rattled his cup and ordered it refilled, and when the waiter slouched back with it, Johnny slid a perfectly good cigar across the table and waved his hand. "Sit down, an' smoke. You ought to rest while you got th' chance." The waiter lost some of his slouch and obeyed, nodding his thanks. "Are you punchin'?" he asked. "When I'm broke," answered Johnny. "Just now I'm ridin' around lookin' at th' scenery. Never knowed we had any out here till I heard some Easterners goin' mad about it. I've been tryin' to find it ever since. But, anyhow, punchin' is shore monotonous." "If you can show me anythin' monotoner than _this_ job, I'll eat it," growled the waiter. "It's hell on wheels for me." "Oh, this whole range is monotonous," grunted Johnny. "Reckon nothin' interestin' has happened down here since Moses got lost. But there's one thing I like about it--there ain't no woman in thirty miles." "You foller Clear River into Green Valley, which is SV, an' you'll change yore mind," chuckled the waiter. "She'll chase you off, too." "I'll be cussed. An' she's suspicious of strangers?" "Don't put no limit on it like that; she's suspicious of everythin' that wears pants." "How's that?" "Well, her cows has been wanderin' off, lookin' for better grass, I reckon, an' she thinks they're bein' drove."