But Jack Routt was nobody’s friend. Sometimes, when he was alone, you might have seen this in his face. It was so now, as he thought of Wint; his countenance was twisted and distorted and malignant. In later years, it was to bear the marks of these secret and rancorous moments for any eye to see. Indelible and unmistakable. But just now Routt knew how to smile, how to be a good fellow.... He brought his feet down from the desk with a bang. He got up and reached for his hat. He had made up his mind; he would go and see Kite. Kite was in town. Routt knew he would find the man in the Bazaar, the town’s five and ten cent store. He went that way, but as he reached the place, Peter Gergue came along the street and Routt went past without entering. Just as well Gergue should not know that he was seeing Kite. Gergue would tell Amos. When Gergue had disappeared, Routt went back and turned into the Bazaar. Kite’s desk was in the back of the store, but Kite was not in sight. The little man might be hidden behind the desk. One of the girls who clerked in the store--her name was Mary Dale, and she was a pretty, simple little thing--asked Routt what he wanted, and he stopped to talk to her for a moment. Routt liked pretty girls. He asked her if Kite was in, and she said he was at his desk, so Routt went back that way. He drew up a chair to face the little man, and Kite cocked his head on his thin neck, and tugged at his side whiskers. “Howdo, Routt,” he said. “Morning,” Routt rejoined. “How’s tricks, Kite?” “All right.” Kite looked suspicious. Routt offered him a cigar, which Kite declined. Jack lighted it himself, then said idly: “Well, I just got back.” “Been away?” “Yes. Columbus.” “Oh!” “I see Wint hasn’t closed down on you yet,” Routt drawled. Kite flushed angrily. “Of course not. Why should he? He’s no fool.” “I said he hadn’t shut down on you--yet,” Routt repeated, and he emphasized the last word. “He likes his drop now and then, same as another man.” “Hasn’t been taking many drops lately, has he?” “I’m not his guardian. How do I know? Long as he lets me alone.” Routt grinned. “I heard he didn’t let you alone, day he was inaugurated. Called you a buzzard, didn’t he?” “The man was drunk.” “Name’s kind of stuck, though. A darned, rotten thing like that will stick.” Kite was trying to keep calm, but he was an irascible little man. He snapped at Routt: “What do I care for names? They break no bones.” “Well, that’s so,” Routt agreed good-naturedly. “Long as he lets me alone, I’m satisfied,” Kite said again. Routt nodded. “How long do you figure he’ll let you alone?” he asked. Kite’s temper got away from him. “By God, he’d better let me alone!” He banged a clenched fist on the table. Routt drawled: “Don’t get excited.”