Men shouted at each other and flung their money on the bar or across the green cloth, while the roulette-wheel whizzed and the dealer’s voices blended into the babel of voices. Harp had left Miss Miller to the tender mercies of some Silverton ladies and had invaded the Short Horn for a nerve elixir. Grant, Hendricks, and Leach were at the bar when Harp came in, and Grant went directly to him. “Where’s Brick?” he asked. Harp shook his head and gave his orders to the busy bartender. “I dunno, Bill.” “When did yuh see him last, Harp?” Harp rubbed his nose thoughtfully. Leach had moved in close enough to listen in on the conversation; so Harp did not answer. He took his drink and drew Grant away from the bar, leaving Leach with Hendricks. “I dunno where he is,” declared Harp. “He didn’t come home last night. I never knowed that McKeever was killed until late today.” “Got any idea where he is, Harp?” “Not a danged idea. Him and Silent sneaked away from me yesterday, and I ain’t seen ’em since.” “It’s kinda funny,” mused Grant. “They wanted to hold an inquest over McKeever today, but they had to put it off until Brick and Silent showed up. Do yuh suppose they ran into somethin’?” “Who seen ’em last here?” “Doctor Bridger. He saw them ride out of town.” “Uh-huh,” Harp squinted reflectively. “Well, I dunno, Bill.” Leach walked up to them and spoke directly to Grant. “Well, does he know anything about them, Grant?” Grant shook his head and looked at Harp who was looking curiously at Leach. Harp grinned softly. He could afford to grin now, because he knew that Leach had seen him bring Miss Miller to Silverton. “Seems funny that the sheriff would avoid the inquest,” said Leach. “Perhaps he had a reason for not wantin’ to be here.” “I’ll betcha he did,” said Harp. “Brick usually has a good reason for doin’ things.” “Is that so?” “Yeah. Yuh see, Brick ain’t no detective—he’s a man-hunter.” “Man-hunter?” Leach laughed sarcastically. “Who did he ever catch?” “You better read local hist’ry,” advised Harp. “Brick got a few of ’em,” nodded Grant. “History, eh?” Leach grinned. “I suppose he has had it all written out and bound in books.” “All except the last chapter,” said Harp seriously. “He’s writin’ that now, I reckon.” Leach laughed and walked away. “He don’t like you, Harp,” smiled Grant. “By golly, that just about breaks me all up, Bill. When I look at him and know he don’t like me, I just tremble with emotion. Yes sir, it’s just like havin’ a chill. Yuh goin’ to the dance?” “No, I don’t think so. I ain’t dressed for dancin’.” “Yuh might borrow Slim Hunter’s coat. He looks just like one of them there doctor’s charts, which shows yore insides, after yore kinda opened up that-a-way. That shirt sure does correspond to them colored heart, liver and lung things.” Banty Harrison came shoving his way past, but stopped to shake hands with Harp.