The crowd rushed to the doorway and windows in time to see Silent step to the edge of the sidewalk and fairly hurl Santel into the street, where he rolled over and over. “Hookum cow!” yelped Silent. “Yee-ow-w-w! Cowboy!” Santel got slowly to his feet, but fell down once before he got himself steadied enough to stagger away across the street. “Mebbe he don’t know what it was all about,” stated Silent, “but he’s got sense enough to not come back for information.” “I never seen anythin’ like it,” declared a cowboy. “Brick hit him with the side of his hand. Right on the old apple. I’ll betcha that jigger will have an apple-juice taste in his mouth for a month.” Hendricks congratulated Brick silently and Brick grinned. “I seen yuh wig-waggin’ me, Al. Santel was on the prod, eh?” “He sure was, Brick. You ain’t heard about what he found out, have yuh?” “Grant was tellin’ me, Al.” “What do yuh think of it?” “Well,” Brick grinned widely, “I feel suspicious of myself.” “I told Santel he was crazy.” “Thank yuh, Al.” “But look out for Santel, Brick. I don’t know a thing about him, but I’ll bet he won’t forgive yuh.” “If he does, he’s plumb loco. Anyway, I ain’t lookin’ for forgiveness. See yuh later, Al.” Brick and Silent went down to the livery-stable and found the gangling youth in charge, sitting in the office, playing a game of solitaire. “Where’s McKeever?” asked Brick. “I dunno. I come to work at four o’clock, but he wasn’t here.” “He didn’t say where he was goin’, did he?” “He didn’t say he was goin’ anywhere. I suppose he got into a poker game and forgot he owned a livery-stable.” “He wasn’t at the Short Horn.” Thus Silent. “Tha’sso? Didja look in at McGill’s place? He plays over there once in a while.” “That’s probably where he is,” said Brick. “Was it anythin’ I can do for yuh, Sheriff?” “No-o-o, I guess not. I just wanted to ask Jimmy how one of his saddles happens to have a bullet-hole in the cantle.” “One of his saddles?” The youth squinted at Brick, as he lighted a limp-looking cigaret. “I didn’t know about that.” “The saddle that Meecham rode today,” explained Brick. “It’s a cheap saddle—one of them red leather hulls, with a rawhide-covered horn. Meecham was ridin’ a Triangle 8 bay filly.” “Uh-huh?” The youth squinted thoughtfully. “I know the saddle and the bronc. Lemme see.” He led them out into the stable and examined the saddles, but was unable to find the right one. The bay filly was in a stall, and Brick knew it was the same animal that Meecham had ridden to Marlin City. “I dunno where that ——ed saddle is,” declared the boy. “I know it. McKeever bought it from a mail-order catalog. One of the worst forks I ever set into. Cost about fifteen dollars, I reckon. Are you sure that’s the horse he was ridin’?” “That’s the horse.” Brick was positive. “What about the bullet-hole? Been some shootin’ goin’ on?” “Bullet-holes don’t occur by themselves,” grinned Brick. “We’ll see if we can find Jimmy.”