The man was tall. He swung lightly out of his saddle near the door, and as he walked into the house it could be seen that he was proportioned in his frame to his height; strength and agility revealed themselves in every move. A rifle slung in a scabbard hung beside the shoulder of the horse, and the man's rig proclaimed the cowboy, though aside from a broad-brimmed Stetson hat his garb was simplicity itself. It was the way in which he carried his height and shoulders that arrested attention, nor was his face one easily to be forgotten. He wore a jet-black beard that grew close and dropped compactly down. It was neither bushy nor scraggly and with his black brows it made a striking setting for strong and rather deep-set eyes which if not actually black were certainly very dark. His smile revealed white, regular teeth under his dark mustache, and his olive complexion, though tanned, seemed different from those of men that rode the range with him--perhaps it was owing to the glossy, black beard. Abe Hawk was evidently at home in Laramie's cabin. He stepped through the door and pushing his hat back on his forehead took a chair and sat down. The two men, masters of taciturnity, looked at each other while this was taking place, and as Hawk seated himself Laramie called for a cup and pushed the coffee pot toward his visitor. Paying no attention to the unspoken invitation, Hawk's features assumed the quizzical lines they sometimes wore when he relaxed and poked questions at his friend. "Well," he demanded, banteringly, "where's Jimmie been?" "Medicine, Sleepy Cat--pretty near everywhere." "I hear you got a job." "I was offered one." "Deputy marshal, eh?" "Farrell Kennedy got me down to Medicine Bend to talk it over." "What's the matter, couldn't you hold it?" "I didn't want it." "You're out of practise on this law-and-order stuff--you've lived up here too long among thieves, Jim. Find out who tore down your wire?" Laramie replied in even tones but his voice was hard: "I trailed them across the Crazy Woman. It was somebody from Doubleday's ranch." "They had a story at Stormy Gorman's you'd gone over there to blow Barb's head off." "Barb wasn't home." Hawk was conscious of the evasion. "Was Stormy's talk true?" he demanded curtly. "I expected to ask Barb whether he wanted to put my wire back. I was going to give him a chance." "It wouldn't be hard to guess how that would come out. Where was he?" asked Hawk, with evident disappointment. "They said he was in Sleepy Cat. I rode in and missed him there. He'd gone to the mines. I took the train up to the Junction, There I accidentally got switched off my job and came home." "How'd you get switched off?" asked Hawk, resenting the outcome. Laramie's manner showed he disliked being bored into. He leaned forward with a touch of asperity and looked, straight at his visitor: "By not 'tending strictly to my own business, Abe."