Kent’s daughter, Molly, had healed some previous sore spots between the foreman and the old man, but this arbitrary handling of the Diamond-Bar men was poaching on authority long since held by the foreman. Kent would have been hard put to have found a way to hurt the man more. “You better git the boys to bed,” the old man said. Hobe’s face was sullen. “Yes, sir.” It was the first time in years that Hobe had “sirred” the boss. Kent looked at him sharply, feeling the implied unfriendliness. He had the good sense, though, to say nothing. Five minutes later the barroom was clear of Diamond-Bar men. Stuffy Tyler had fallen asleep, but big Hobe easily picked him up, and throwing him over his shoulder as if the man were a sack of meal, carried him to his bed. Doc Ritter brought in a stretcher, and with the aid of Johnny and Tony, the dead man was carried to Ritter’s undertaking parlor. Scanlon and Vin faced each other. “Beats hell, don’t it,” the former asked sullenly, “how one man can put a town to bed? You’d almost think we knew the man—comin’ in here and dyin’ thata-way. You know what we stand to lose, don’t you?” “We don’ lose not’in’, Scanlon. Money? We get heem by an’ by. Next election, though, we lose somet’ing.” “Gallup, eh? Maybe so. The man ain’t got no ideas. You ’tend to the lights and close up, Vin. I’m dead tired. I’m goin’ to bed.” “Let ’em burn,” the Basque snapped. “I can swim!” Scanlon smiled as he recognized his own words of the early evening. But Vinnie put out the lights. For half an hour after the hotel was in darkness, Johnny and Tony sat in front of the Palace. The rain was over. “You go to baid, Johnny?” Tony asked. “No. I couldn’t sleep. Tell me again just what that man said to you that night on the North Fork.” The big Basque smiled. He had already told his story twice. “I jus’ remember I look at hees hat, and he smile. That’s fonny hat, you know—so small brim, great beeg crown. No mens wear hats like those now. He geeve it to me for tak’ good look. The ban’ on eet is ver-ry fine. ‘Yes,’ he say, ‘that’s Indian ban’. Moqui Indian mak’ those ban’. Mak’ eet out of horsehair.’ “But more fonny that those hat is little green snake he have fasten on that ban’. That snake have green eyes. Eet’s a gold snake, too. ‘Press the haid of that snake,’ he say. _Por Dios_, that snake fall into my han’. ‘That’s beeg medicine,’ he say, ‘those snake. Been on that hat forty year!’ “‘Why you wear those old hat?’ I ask. He tell me; but he don’ smile. ‘Plenty hats like theese, long time ago in Santa Fe and Tombstone,’ he say. ‘Some day I fin’ the man what owns theese hat. He’ll remember eet!’”