Johnny was laughing at the humor of the newcomer, and waved from Bill to Quayle. "Tim, this is Bill Long, that we heard about, for I saw him clean out Fisher. Long, this is Quayle, an' my name's Nelson. Cuss it, man! _I_'d say you was gettin' acquainted fast. What was that you was sayin' about th' white man an' th' Greasers, an' some mistake? It was sort of riled up." "It _is_ riled up," chuckled Bill, crossing his legs. "I gave it out just like I got it. As I says to Fisher last night, I'm a imitator. Any news about th' robbery?" Quayle snorted. "Fine chance! An' d'ye think they'd be after tellin' on thimselves? That's th' only way for any news to be heard." "I may be a stranger," replied Bill; "but I'm no stranger to human nature, which is about th' same in one place as it is in another. If that reward don't pan out some news, then I'm loco." Quayle listened to a call from the kitchen. "It's th' only chance, then," he flung over his shoulder as he left them. "It's that d--d Mick. I'll be back soon." Johnny, with a glance at the barroom door, leaned slightly forward and whispered one word, his eyes moist: "_Hoppy!_" Bill Long squirmed and grinned. "_You flat-headed sage-hen!_" he breathed. "_I want to see you in secret._" Johnny nodded. "I reckon th' reward might start somethin' out in th' open, but I wouldn't want to be th' man that tried for it." His voice dropped to a whisper. "_We'll take a ride this afternoon from Kane's, plain an' open._" In his natural voice he continued. "But, Twitchell an' Carpenter are shore powerful. An' they've got th' men an' th' money." "Do you reckon anybody had a personal grudge?" asked Bill. "_I'll fix it._" "I'm near as much a stranger here as you are," answered Johnny, "though I sold Ridley some cattle. I met him before, on th' range around Gunsight. Nice feller, he was. _What time?_" "He must 'a' been a good man, to work for th' T & C," replied Bill. "_After dinner._" "He was." "Oh, well; it ain't _my_ funeral. Feel like a little game?" "I used to think I could play poker," chuckled Johnny; "but I woke up last night. Seein' as how I still got them yearlin's to buy, I don't feel like playin'." Quayle's voice boomed out suddenly from the kitchen. "If yer fingers was feet ye'd be as good! _Hould_ it, now--if ut slips this time I'll be after bustin' yer head. I've showed ye a dozen times how to put it back, an' still ye yell fer me. _There_, now--_hould_ it! Hand me th' wire--annybody'd think--blast th' blasted man that made ut! Some Dootchman, I'll wager." "Shure an' we ought to get a new wan--it's warped crooked, an' cracked----" "We should, should we?" roared the proprietor. "An' who are 'we'? Only tin years old, an' it's a new wan we'd be gettin', is ut? What we ought to be gettin' is a new cook, an' wan that's _not_ cracked. Now, th' nixt time ye poke ut, poke gently--ye ain't makin' post holes with that poker. An' _now_ look at me."--A door slammed and a washbasin sounded like tin.