"How was Little Jim when you left?" "Just fine!" "And the folks?" "Same as ever. Miss Gray--" "Well, I reckon I'll be steppin' along. Glad I saw you again." "Going to leave town to-night?" "I aim to." Bartley could no longer ignore Cheyenne's attitude. He knew that something had happened or was about to happen. Cheyenne's manner did not invite question or suggestion. Yet Bartley had promised Dorothy that he would exert what influence he had--and it seemed a critical time, just at that moment. "I'd like to talk with you a minute, if you have time," said Bartley. "Won't do no good, pardner." And without waiting for Bartley to say anything more, Cheyenne stepped up to him and held out his hand. "So long," he said. "Well, good luck!" replied Bartley, and shook hands with him heartily. "I hope you win." Cheyenne gestured toward the door. Bartley stepped out into the hallway. The light in the room flickered out. "I reckon you'll be goin' back to your hotel," said Cheyenne. "Wait. I'll just step down first." At the foot of the stairs Cheyenne paused and glanced up and down the street. Directly across the way the Hole-in-the-Wall was ablaze with light. A few doors east of the gambling-hall an indistinct group of riders sat their horses as though waiting for some one. Cheyenne drew back into the shadows of the hallway. Bartley peered out over Cheyenne's shoulder. From up the street in the opposite direction came the distant click of boot-heels. A figure strode swiftly toward the patch of white light in front of the gambling-hall. "Just stand back a little, pardner," said Cheyenne. Bartley felt his heart begin to thump as Cheyenne gently loosened his gun in the holster. "It's Panhandle!" whispered Bartley, as the figure of Sears was silhouetted against the lighted windows of the place opposite. Out of the shadows where the riders waited came a single, abrupt word, peremptory, incisive: "Panhandle!" Panhandle, about to turn into the lighted doorway, stopped short. Sneed had called to Panhandle; but it was Posmo the Mexican who rode forward to meet him. Sneed, close behind Posmo, watched to see that the Mexican carried out his instructions, which were simply to tell Panhandle to get his horse and leave town with them. Seeing the group behind the Mexican, Panhandle's first thought was that Posmo had betrayed him to the authorities. It _was_ Posmo. Panhandle recognized the Mexican's pinto horse.