“She got fired,” replied Skeeter Bill. “Shorty told me she quit, and she said she was fired. So I put it up to Shorty and he said that he didn’t own the cafe but took orders from the owner, and that the owner had told him to fire Margie.” “Aw, I think he’s tryin’ to crawl out of it, Skeet.” “If I thought he was, I’d drown him in his own soup.” “By golly, that’s it!” exclaimed Fuzzy. “What’s it?” asked Skeeter Bill quickly. “A sensible use for Shorty Hale’s soup. At that, it might be too thin to drown a man. You can breathe it without difficulty.” “Fuzzy!” exclaimed Aunt Emma. “That is ridiculous. But, Skeeter, what on earth gave you the idea that Sam Keenan might own that restaurant?” “I dunno,” sighed Skeeter Bill, “I suppose I had a hunch.” “You and yore hunches!” snorted Fuzzy. “Go look at that old hat, Fuzzy, and the back of the coat.” “Yea-a-ah, I reckon yuh do have flashes of intelligence. Sometimes I get smart, too.” “When?” asked Aunt Emma soberly. Fuzzy turned to Skeeter. “Ain’t it like a woman--allus tryin’ to pin yuh down to a exact date?” “And never gettin’ an answer,” said Aunt Emma, heading back for the kitchen. Ollie Ashley and Len Riggs wanted to go to Yellow Butte, and Skeeter Bill decided to go with them, against the protests of Fuzzy Davis, who declared that Skeeter might run into trouble, especially in the dark. “Trouble is my middle name, Fuzzy,” Skeeter Bill told him. “I’ll be all right. Besides that, I’ve got two good men with me.” “Them two?” scoffed Fuzzy. “Lot of help they’d be. I can snap my fingers and make ’em both go for cover.” “When, for instance?” asked Ollie soberly. “Aw, yuh’re just like Emmy, allus askin’ for dates. Go ahead and get killed. Might improve the country--I dunno.” Ollie and Len tied their horses at the Seven-Up Saloon, but Skeeter rode straight down to the Edwards house. He tied his horse to the rickety fence and went up to the lighted house. Young Bill came to the door to welcome Skeeter Bill. Margie and Nellie were reading a book. They were delighted to see Skeeter. Margie said, “You went out of here so fast yesterday that I had a feeling you were mad at me.” “Shucks, I never get mad at my friends,” said Skeeter with a smile. “I just had somethin’ on my mind at that time.” They sat and talked for an hour, before the two children went to bed. After they were gone Skeeter Bill asked Margie if she knew who owned the New York Chop House. “Shorty Hale,” she replied. “Shorty says he don’t, and that he had orders from the owner to fire you.” “That’s funny, Skeeter; everybody believes that Shorty owns it. And if there were another owner, why would he want to fire me? I haven’t done anything--not that I know about.” * * * * * Skeeter Bill shook his head, hunched forward in an old rocker. Then he looked at her and said quietly: