"Yep. Goin' south. Don't expect to find Cutting first off. But I'll find Block, an' I guess he'll know somethin' about friend Cutting. I'd go instanter, only I want to give Block time to get back an' get settled before I pay him a call. I tell yuh, Scotty, I want that hoss o' mine, an' I'll get him back if it takes me the rest o' my life!" "You gents want beds?" inquired the landlord, suddenly appearing in the doorway. "Shore," replied Scotty. "Two of 'em." "Say, who's the postmaster here?" Loudon asked. "Me," was the landlord's weary reply. "A couple o' days ago," said Loudon, "a letter addressed to John Doubleday in Paradise Bend was mailed here. Remember who mailed it?" "Couldn't say, stranger," yawned the landlord. "Oh, shore," he added, as Loudon looked incredulous, "I could tell yuh everybody else what mailed mail for the last month. But that one letter I couldn't. I didn't see the man, woman, child, or Injun what mailed it. Three days ago when I got up in the mornin' an' went outside to wash my face I done found that letter an' two bits a-layin' on the door-step. That's all. Just a letter an' two bits. I clamps on a stamp an' sends her along when the up-stage pulls in." "Any parties from the Bend in town that day, or the day before?" "Nary a party as I knows of--but then I ain't got eyes all over me. Some sport might 'a' slid through an' me not know it." "I ain't askin' questions just to make talk," said Loudon, sharply. "So if yuh ain't got no real serious objections I'll ask a couple more." "No need to get het, stranger," soothed the landlord. "No need to get het. Ask away." "Any strangers been in town lately?" "Two, to-day. They're the only strangers I've seen for quite a spell, an' they're upstairs now. Lady an' gent they are, travellin' separate. Goin' to the Bend, I reckon. Yest'day the off hind wheel o' the stage dished down at Lew's Gully, an' she come in on three wheels an' half a cottonwood. Passengers had to stay over till Whisky Jim rustled him a new wheel. Whisky'll pull out in the mornin'." "Who's the gent?" "Drummer. Dunno his name." "Didn't Block--you know, Sheriff Block o' Fort Creek--didn't he stop here a day or two ago? He must 'a' come through Rocket." "Shore he did. But he ain't no stranger. I see him as many as two or three times a year. Shore he come through Rocket. He had a drink here day before yest'day. Goin' to the Bend, he said." "Well, if he stops on his way back tell him Tom Loudon was askin' for him. Old friend o' mine, the sheriff is. Just tell him yuh know me, an' he'll set 'em up for the whole town." "I expect," grinned the landlord. "Was you wantin' beds, gents?" "That's us," grunted Scotty. "Me, I'm asleep from the neck down. Show me that bed, Mister." Loudon, sitting on the edge of his sway-backed cot, pulled off his boots, dropped them clattering on the floor, and looked across at Scotty Mackenzie.