“The silver buttons on the bridle,” he explained. “Both of them marked alike—C. T. I never heard of no brand like that. It’s his initials. That’s somethin’ else to keep under your hat. That’s a real clew.” “How you know, pleece, those t’ing ees clew?” “Know? You don’t have to know. A clew is just a clew. All we’ve got to do is to keep on gittin’ them. We’re goin’ to saddle up and fan it out to the ranch and git our stuff. I’m through lookin’ for evidence round here. If you saw that man on the North Fork three days ago, I just about know the way he took into town. He must have got on the North Fork from the west. If he did, he came through Winnemucca. Ain’t no other way he could have got out of the hills. I’m goin’ down to old Winnemuc and prospect around.” “_Cuidado!_” Tony whispered. “Here comes Gallup.” They were almost in front of Aaron’s house before they came abreast of him. The coroner’s eyes were snapping. Even his mustache seemed to stand at attention, bristling as it were with anger. “Well, I suppose you little boys have been havin’ your fun this mornin’.” He snickered contemptuously. “You take a word of advice from me, Johnny Dice—a fool and his money soon depart!” “Say, Aaron, that’s not bad. Not bad at all, but you paste this in your hat, and let it stick to your rickety old slats—I go, oh, yes, but only to return. In other words, I’ll be back! And somebody’s goin’ to burn the _frijoles_ when I do.” Johnny’s voice became velvety as he added: “And there ain’t no one in this little old town makin’ me go, either, _señor_.” “No?” Gallup inquired with sarcastic politeness. “Don’t you be too sure about that.” Tony motioned to Johnny to come along, but the boy pushed him aside. “Suppose you enlighten me on that last remark,” he said to Gallup. Aaron did not dodge the issue. “With pleasure! You git out of town by noon or there’ll be a warrant out for your arrest for disturbin’ the peace. You can’t make a fool out of me and git away with it.” Tony’s jaw set at the word arrest. Johnny met the threat with a smile, but he did not take Gallup’s words as easily as he appeared to take them. “You can’t shut me up any other way,” he explained for the coroner’s benefit, “so you’re goin’ to have Roddy throw me in jail, eh? You politicians certainly stick together, don’t you? I’d like to see that scarecrow sheriff go up against a real man.” “If you flatter yourself that you’re one, you hang around.” It was on Johnny’s tongue to make a fitting retort, to dare Gallup to bring up his reserves, but wisdom of a sort checked the hot words. He had set himself to do a certain thing. Shooting it out with Jasper Roddy would not accomplish it. Tony’s eyes were smiling now—a smile as guileful as his race was old. That Basque smile under fire is one of the little ways by which the children of the far Pyrenees announce that they are not Mexican. That smile is something to consider if you are involved personally. Johnny caught it and understood.