“How long has he been driving this stage?” asked Santel. “About seven or eight months, I think,” replied Brick. “What did he do before he got this job?” “I dunno, do you, Grant?” “No. I never seen Baldy until he started drivin’ stage. Prob’ly the only job he ever had in Sun Dog.” “Have any enemies?” queried Santel. “Never heard of any,” said Brick. “Baldy was kind of an inoffensive jigger.” “Not exactly,” Grant smiled slowly. “He knocked McGill down the day you rode the grizzly, Brick.” “I heard about that,” smiled Brick. “Still a poke in the nose wouldn’t cause a man to do murder—not this long afterward, anyway.” “Who is McGill?” asked Santel. “A saloon-keeper in Silverton. Not exactly a worthy citizen, but tolerated. No, I don’t reckon that McGill shot Baldy.” They left the doctor’s office and walked back to the street. Grant offered to buy a drink, but the other two men declined with thanks. Santel was very serious, and Brick thought very sad. “Is Santel goin’ to stay with you, Grant?” asked Brick. They had halted in front of Wesson’s store, and as Brick spoke Mrs. Wesson and Miss Miller came out of the store and walked past them. Brick and Grant spoke to the ladies. Miss Miller glanced keenly at Santel, but he did not pay them the slightest attention. “Yeah, he is goin’ to stay at my ranch,” replied Grant, after the women were out of ear-shot. “I’ve hired him to punch cows.” “Well, he looks capable,” grinned Brick. Santel looked up quickly. He straightened his shoulders and shifted his heavy cartridge-belt slightly. “Are they goin’ to hunt for the kid again today?” he asked. Brick nodded. “Y’betcha. I’ve got to grab a little sleep. We’ll probably pull out of here about noon. The boys were kinda fagged out, but they’ll be on deck.” “I’ll go along,” volunteered Santel. “Me, too,” said Grant quickly. “By grab, I hope we find that poor kid. He was a dinger of a little feller, Brick—him and his spurs.” “He quit wearin’ spurs,” said Brick sadly. “He told me yesterday that stage-drivers didn’t wear spurs.” “What was his name?” asked Santel. “I dunno. Baldy called him ‘Whizzer.’” Santel looked curiously at Brick, his eyes narrowed to slits, as if looking into a strong light. Then he turned away and looked across the street. “Well, you go and grab an eye-full of sleep, Brick,” said Grant. “We’ll be ready to ride when you show up.” Brick nodded and went back to the office. Harp and Silent were already stretched out on the two cots and were snoring a duet. Brick went into the back room and kicked off his boots. He was half-asleep before he stretched out on the bed, but his mind was running in wide circles. “Who is Santel?” he asked himself. “Why did he act that-a-way when he looked at Baldy Malloy?” Brick yawned widely and drew the blanket up around his neck.