“He didn’t say. I asked him if it was important, but he never said whether it was or not. Said he’d come again.” They were just sitting down at the table, when Bill Grant knocked on the door and informed Mrs. Wesson that he wanted to see Brick. He wouldn’t come in; so Brick went out to him. “I don’t like to take yuh away from a meal, Brick; but I’ve got somethin’ yuh ought to know. Santel’s drunk. He got me in a corner this afternoon and talked for an hour. He’s been detectin’ to beat ——, so he says. And here’s his solution of the thing: “You and Silent Slade and Harp Harris must be the three men who done the dirty work; _sabe_? Yo’re the medium-sized one, Silent is the big one, and Harp is the tall, skinny one. Now, what do yuh think of that, Brick?” Brick squinted hard over the information and Grant watched him closely. Then Brick’s face broke into a grin, as he looked up. “Well, Bill, I’m s’prized that Santel ever found out that much. It sure does look like us three jiggers have been featherin’ our nests, don’t it?” “Aw, ——, I didn’t believe him, Brick.” “Thank yuh, Bill. Where is Santel now?” “He’s gone to Silverton. I reckon he’s through around here. He told me that he was, anyway.” “Yeah, I reckon he is,” Brick grew serious. “He said he was goin’ to put his case up to Leach and Hendricks and let them do what they dang pleased about it.” “That’s real thoughtful of him, I’m sure. Bill, I’m glad yuh told me this, and I thank yuh kindly.” “Yo’re welcome, Brick. But dang it all, I wish you could put the deadwood on the guilty parties. I’m for yuh.” “Well,” Brick grinned widely, “mebbe I will, as soon as I get time. I’ve been so dog-gone busy lately. Say, didja see Silent around the Dollar Down when yuh left?” “He’s playin’ single-handed black-jack with Le Blanc.” “Fine. Tell him to come down here right away, will yuh, Bill?” “Sure.” Grant turned and walked back toward the street, while Brick went back to his supper. Miss Miller smiled at Brick as he sat down beside Harp. “I have been trying to get Mr. Harris to tell me how he came to get that wound in his shoulder,” said Miss Miller, “but he refuses to tell me.” Harp squinted at Brick, who grinned covertly and shook his head. “I don’t blame him for not talkin’ about it,” declared Brick. “Mebbe next time he’ll look out for knife-throwin’ women.” “Knife-throwing women?” Miss Miller glanced sharply at Harp, whose ears immediately assumed a scarlet tint. “Half-breed,” nodded Brick. “Married woman, too. Her husband was shootin’ mad, too.” Harp shoved back his chair and got to his feet. “That’s all a danged lie!” he wailed. “I—I——” “I can’t understand this risin’ generation,” interrupted Mrs. Wesson seriously. “They do the darndest things. Why, when I was young, if a man monkeyed around a married woman——”