De Spain started for the stairs. "Henry," called Lefever, as his companion trotted hastily down, "if you catch up to her, kindly apologize for a fat man." But de Spain was balked of an opportunity to follow Nan. In the street he ran into Scott. "Did you get the story?" demanded de Spain. "Part of it." "Was it Sassoon?" Scott shook his head. "I wish it was." "What do you mean?" "Deaf Sandusky." "Calabasas?" Scott nodded. "You must have moved a couple of inches at the right nick, Henry. That man Sandusky," Bob smiled a sickly smile, "doesn't miss very often. He was bothered a little by his friends being all around you." The two regarded each other for a moment in silence. "Why," asked de Spain, boiling a little, "should that damned, hulking brute try to blow _my_ head off just now?" "Only for the good of the order, Henry," grinned the scout. "Nice job Jeff has picked out for me," muttered de Spain grimly, "standing up in these Sleepy Cat barrooms to be shot at." He drew in a good breath and threw up the wet brim of his hat. "Well, such is life in the high country, I suppose. Some fine day Mr. Sandusky will manage to get me--or I'll manage to get him--that all depends on how the happening happens. Anyway, Bob, it's bad luck to miss a man. We'll hang that much of a handicap on his beef-eating crop. Is he the fellow John calls the butcher?" demanded de Spain. "That's what everybody calls him, I guess." The two rejoined Lefever at the head of the stairs and the three discussed the news. Even Lefever seemed more serious when he heard the report. Scott, when asked where Sandusky now was, nodded toward the big room in front of them. Lefever looked toward the gambling-tables. "We'll go in and look at him." He turned to Scott to invite his comment on the proposal. "Think twice, John," suggested the Indian. "If there's any trouble in a crowd like that, somebody that has no interest in de Spain or Sandusky is pretty sure to get hurt." "I don't mean to start anything," explained Lefever. "I only want de Spain to look at him." But sometimes things start themselves. Lefever found Sandusky at a faro-table. At his side sat his partner, Logan. Three other players, together with the onlookers, and the dealer--whose tumbled hair fell partly over the visor that protected his eyes from the glare of the overhead light--made up the group. The table stood next to that of Tenison, who, white-faced and impassive under the heat and light, still held to his chair.