Van Horn's eyes had not missed the inconspicuous entrance of the two Falling Wall men: "There's the man himself, right now," he exclaimed, looking toward Laramie. "No better time to talk to him, either, than right now," added Barb Doubleday hoarsely. "Take him back into the office, Harry. When you're through come up to the room." Van Horn, leaving the bar, intercepted Laramie. Doubleday and Stone, pretending not to observe, saw Van Horn, on the plea of important talk, succeed, after some demur, in inducing Laramie to return with him to the hotel office. Once there and in a quiet corner with two chairs, Van Horn lost no time in opening his subject: "You know as well as I do, Jim, what shape things are in on the North range. It can't go on. Everybody is losing cattle right and left to these rustlers. They've been running Doubleday's steers right down to the railroad camp on the Spider Water--we traced the brands on 'em. You know as well as I do who took 'em." Laramie listened perfunctorily, his eyes moving part of the time over the room. "Speak for yourself. Harry," he intervened at this juncture. "I know exactly nothing about who took anybody's steers, nor that any were taken." Van Horn uttered a quick exclamation: "Well, you sure heard about it!" "In this country a man can hear anything," observed Laramie, not greatly moved. "I've heard there isn't a crooked cattleman north of Sleepy Cat." Van Horn stared. "Go on," continued Laramie, looking at the passers-by, "I'm listening." "Doubleday has sold the eating house and disposed of his property at the Junction----" "You mean his creditors took it, don't you?" "Put it any way you like. He's going in for more cattle and we're going to put this range on the map. But--we've got to clean out this Falling Wall bunch first. The big men can't stand it any longer and won't stand it." "What then?" "I want you to get in right, on the move, with us, Jim--this is your chance. You're in a tough neighborhood over there. Now I know you're not a rustler." "No, you don't." "Yes, I do," averred Van Horn. "But everybody doesn't know you as well as I do. And your name suffers because you don't get along with the cattlemen--Doubleday, Pettigrew and the rest." "What then?" "What then?" echoed Van Horn, feeling the up-hill pull. "Why, line up with us against these rustlers. We're going to have a big get-together barbecue this summer and when it's pulled we want you there. You'll have a friend in every man on the range--however some of 'em feel now. They know the stuff you're made of, Jim; they know if you put your hand to your gun with them, you'll stay; and if you do it, they know it's good-by to the rustlers."