"I haven't talked with him, but I reckon he's here on some deal for Johnny Martinez." Curtis tied the mare to the hitching-post on the corner. "I've heard," he said cautiously, "that he has a venomous tongue and uses it recklessly. Do you know whether he's been doing any outrageous talking lately?" "Well, I reckon nobody would believe anything Jenkins said, anyway. But I haven't heard anything. Have you, Jack?" Some other men came along, and they all stopped to talk together. Curtis leaned against the mare and stroked her glossy neck. She poked her nose into his coat pocket and found a lump of sugar, which she ate with much dainty tossing of her head. It was some minutes before they entered the saloon. The "Blue Front" was a two-roomed shanty on the edge of the Mexican quarter. Gambling games of various sorts occupied the back room; and there, too, political deals were arranged and votes bargained and paid for between the American politicians and the leaders of the Mexicans. When Conrad and his friends came down the street a number of men were in the rear room, some talking and others busy at cards. At a table near a side window men of both races were engaged in a poker game. One of the players, a pock-marked Mexican with a defective eye, frequently glanced down the street. When he saw the Sheriff and his two companions approach, he rose and watched them. The others wanted to know what he was looking at, and he asked who was the man with the brown mare. A tall, dark American, with slightly stooping shoulders, looked up with interest as he heard them give Conrad's name, and joined the group at the window. Several of the men spoke with enthusiasm about Brown Betty, and one, who said he had once worked at Socorro Springs ranch, told them that Conrad thought more of her than of anything else he owned. When the men in front entered the saloon, the pock-marked Mexican cashed in his chips and slipped out through the rear door. The sound of Conrad's voice in the bar-room caught the attention of the tall, dark American. An angry flush reddened his face, his beady eyes snapped, and the tip of his tongue licked his lips. Then something amusing seemed to occur to him, for his features relaxed into a smile and he glanced briskly around the room. "See if you can find Melgares, will you?" he asked the Mexican with whom he had been talking. "Tell him I'll wait for him outside the back door." He stepped out into the bright sunshine, smiling and rubbing his hands together. Back of the shanty was a high adobe wall surrounding the corral of the Mexican houses fronting on the next street. A wooden door in the wall opened cautiously, and the pock-marked face looked out. "You sent for me, Señor Jenkins?" the Mexican asked. "Yes. It's all right. You needn't be afraid. I want you to do something, Melgares." They stepped inside the corral and Melgares bolted the door. "You saw Conrad's mare just now?" Jenkins began. "Fine creature, isn't she?"