Before answering, the barn boss eyed de Spain very carefully to see how the wind was setting, for the pony's presence confessed an infraction of a very particular rule. "You see," he began, cocking at his strict boss from below his visorless cap a questioning Scotch eye, "I like to keep on good terms with that gang. Some of them can be very ugly. It's better to be friends with them when you can--by stretching the barn rules a little once in a while--than to have enemies of 'em all the time--don't you think so, sir?" "What's her horse doing here?" asked de Spain, without commenting on the long story, but also without showing, as far as the barnman could detect, any growing resentment at the infraction of his regulations. McAlpin made even the most inconsequential approaches to a statement with a keen and questioning glance. "The girl went up to the Cat on the early stage, sir. She's coming back this afternoon." "What is she riding away over here to Calabasas for to take the stage, instead of riding straight into Sleepy Cat?" Once more McAlpin eyed him carefully. "The girl's been sick." "Sick?" "She ain't really fit to ride a step," confided the Scotch boss with growing confidence. "But she's been going up two or three times now to get some medicine from Doc Torpy--that's the way of it. There's a nice girl, sir--in a bunch o' ruffians, I know--though old Duke, she lives with, he ain't a half-bad man except for too many cards; I used to work for him--but I call her a nice girl. Do you happen to know her?" De Spain had long been on guard. "I've spoken with her in a business way one or twice, Jim. I can't really say I know her." "Nice girl. But that's a tough bunch in that Gap, sure as you're alive; yes, sir." De Spain was well aware the canny boss ought to know. McAlpin had lived at one time in the Gap, and was himself reputed to have been a hardy and enduring rider on a night round-up. "Anything sick, Jim?" asked de Spain, walking on down the barn and looking at the horses. It was only the second time since he had given him the job that de Spain had called the barn boss "Jim," and McAlpin answered with the rising assurance of one who realizes he is "in" right. "Not so much as a sore hoof in either alley, Mr. de Spain. I try to take care of them, sir." "What are we paying you, Jim?" "Twenty-seven a week, sir; pretty heavy work at that." "We'll try to make that thirty-two after this week." McAlpin touched his cap. "Thank you kindly, sir, I'm sure. It costs like hell to live out here, Mr. de Spain." "Lefever says you live off him at poker." "Ha, ha! Ha, ha, sir! John will have his joke. He's always after me to play poker with him--I don't like to do it. I've got a family to support--he ain't. But by and far, I don't think John and me is ten dollars apart, year in and year out. Look at that bay, sir! A month ago Elpaso said that horse was all in--look at him now. I manage to keep things up."