McAlpin, in all his devious career, had never passed through more or quicker stages of astonishment, confusion, poise and evasion than he did in listening to those words. But at pulling his wits together, McAlpin was a wonder. By the time Kate had finished, his innocent question was ready: "Where is he?" "He is here. I must see him at once." "But I ain't seen him myself for a week. He's not here. Who told you he's here?" "Belle," persisted Kate calmly, "told me he _is_ here. I must see him. Don't deceive me, McAlpin--do just as I ask you, no more, no less." "No more, no less, sure," grumbled the Scotchman. "You gives me one kind of orders--the boss gives me another kind. I can't do no more, I can't do no less. I can't do nothin'--I've got a family to support and all this damned rowing going on, a man's job is no safer nowadays in this country than his head!" But words were not to save him. Kate persisted. She would not be put off. McAlpin, swearing and protesting, could in the end only offer to go see whether he could by any chance find Laramie. After a long trip through the winding alleys of the big barn--for Kate watched the baseball cap and crazy vizor as long as she could follow it--then complete disappearance for a time, McAlpin came back to Kate, immovable at the office door, his face wreathed with a surprised smile. He spoke, but his eyes were opened wide and his words were delivered in a whisper; mystery hung upon his manner: "Come along," he nodded, indicating the interior. "Only say nothing to nobody. He's hit--there's all there is to it. Here's all I know, but I don't know all: About three hours ago Ben Simeral was riding up the Crazy Woman when he seen a man half dropping off his horse, hat gone, riding head down, slow, with his rifle slung on his arm. Simmie seen who it was--Jim Laramie. He looked at horse 'n' man 'n' says: 'Where the hell you bin?' 'Where the hell 'a' you been,' Laramie says, pretty short. 'Ridin' all over this'--excuse my rough language, Kate--'blamed country, lookin' f'r to tell you Van Horn and Stone's out o' jail!' "Laramie seen then from the ol' man's horse how he'd been ridin' 'n' softened down a bit. 'So I heard, Simmie,' he says. 'Who'd you hear it from?' says Simmie. 'Direct, Simmie,' he says. 'Did they pot y', Jim?' 'Nicked my shoulder, I guess.' 'Where you goin'?' 'To town.' 'Man,' says Simmie, 'you've lost a lot o' blood.' 'Got a little left, Simmie.'