The restaurant was a long, narrow room set with high stools before a wooden counter. Tony tried to make talk, but the boy was more intent on watching the few passers-by on Bridge Street, hoping against hope that he might catch a glimpse of the girl. But he finished his meal of ham and eggs and pie without this coming to pass. When he had paid their check he said to Tony: “You’d better git a room and turn in for an hour or two. I’ll be back soon. What we got to do won’t be done in a day.” “For why you leave me behin’, Johnny?” “I ain’t leavin’ you behind. I tell you, we need sleep. We may be headin’ back for Standing Rock tonight. You turn in.” Leaving the hotel, Johnny went down the street to Dan Secor’s shop. Old Dan ran a second-hand store and pawnshop in addition to his business of gunsmithing. He was going home for dinner when Johnny hailed him. “Hey, Dan,” the boy called, “I want to see you a minute before you go. Open up for a second.” “That’s you boys,” the old fellow growled. “Sit here all mornin’ long ’thout nary a customer, and soon as I gits locked up you flock in. What you want?” “Dan, I want you to take a look at this gun. D’you ever see it before?” Dan had to put his specs in position before he could answer. “Sure; put that firin’ pin in myself. That’s an old Ross pistol.” Johnny was all smiles. This was the first bit of luck to come his way this day. “I reckoned you’d fixed it up.” “Ain’t yore gun, is it?” old Dan questioned. “Leastways, it wa’n’t you had it in here to be fixed.” “No. I just came by the gun accidental-like. I’m right interested in the man what owned it, though. Suppose you got his name in your books.” “Umph—umph!” Dan grunted. “Ain’t, neither. I ’member he waited here while I put in the pin. Had quite a talk.” Johnny’s face fell. Old Dan’s words had dropped him from the clouds to the bottomless pit. What mattered it that he had traced the dead man’s movements to Secor’s shop? His surmising was proved correct, but the murdered man’s identity remained a mystery, and that had to be solved before he could proceed with any assurance of success. Johnny cursed in his chagrin. Could you find two men in a hundred who would have a gun repaired while they waited? Of course not! It was just a trick of fate’s to thwart him. It wouldn’t happen so again in a thousand years. “You seem right put out,” Dan rejoined. “Man ain’t done nothin’?” “Not a thing. Say, you mind tellin’ me what you two talked about?” “Don’t know as I do. Wa’n’t nothin’ puss’nal; ’twas mostly cattle talk, him askin’ after the brands folks was runnin’ along the river. You know, light talk—two old men.”