"Call me Clarice. That's my name. Ain't it got a real refined sound? I got it out of a book. The herowine was called that. She drowned herself. Gee, I cried over that book! Read it six times, too. Here's luck, stranger." "An' lots of it, Ethel. Have another." "Just for that yuh don't have to call me Clarice. Yuh can call me anythin' yuh like 'cept Maggie. A floozie named that stole ninety-five dollars an' four bits an' a gold watch offen me once. I ain't liked the name since. Well, drown sorrow." "An' drown her deep. Say, I kind o' like this town. It suits me down to the ground. How's the cattle 'round here?" "Nothin' to brag of. They's only a few little ranches. They's gold in the Dry Mountains over east a ways. Placers, the claims are. Bill Archer's got a claim some'ers west in the foot-hills o' the Fryin' Pans. He works it quite a lot, but he ain't never had no luck with it yet. Leastwise, he says he ain't." "Has he been out to it lately?" asked Loudon, carelessly. The girl did not immediately reply. She stared fixedly into his eyes. "Stranger," she said, her voice low and hard, "stranger, what do yuh want to know for?" "Oh, I was just a-wonderin'. Not that I really want to know. I was just talkin'." "Yuh seem to enjoy talkin' quite a lot." "I do. Habit I got." "Well, what do yuh want to know about Bill Archer for?" "I don't. Say, can't I make a natural remark without yore jumpin' sideways?" "Remarks is all right. It's yore questions ain't. Stranger, for a feller who's just makin' talk yore eyes are a heap too interested. I been in this business too long a time not to be able to read a gent's eyes. Yo're a-huntin' for somethin', you are." "I'm a-huntin' a job--that's all. What do yuh take me for, anyway?" "I dunno how to take yuh. I----" "Oh, have another drink an' forget it." "Shore I'll have another drink, but I dunno as I---- Oh, well, yo're all right, o' course. I'm gettin' foolish, I guess." Her words did not carry conviction, and certainly she did not cease to watch Loudon with furtive keenness. He strove by means of many drinks and a steady flow of conversation to dispel her suspicions. The girl played up to perfection, yet, when he bade her good-night, it was with the assured belief that she and Archer would have a little talk within five minutes. The bar was nearly empty when Loudon and Laguerre entered the hotel. Two drunken punchers were sleeping on the floor, a mongrel under a table was vigorously hunting for fleas, and the bartender was languidly arranging bottles on the shelves. Loudon ordered drinks and treated the bartender. "Any chance o' pickin' up a stake in the Dry Mountains?" hazarded Loudon. "How?" queried the bartender. "Placer minin'." "Well, gents, if yuh don't care how hard yuh work for five dollars a day, the Dry Mountains is the place. I never had no use for a long-tailed shovel myself." "I heard how them stream-beds was rich."