The event that he subconsciously expected, however, came from outside. There was a sudden clamor at the door, the flaps swung in sharply, and several men entered. Smithy, Judson’s gangling young clerk, was the most noticeable member of the new group. He had a cut over his right eye, a puff on his cheek-bone that could have been made by nothing but a heavy fist, and when he spoke a crimson gap in his upper jaw betrayed the absence of two teeth. “What’s happened to you, Smithy?” demanded Colorado Brown, coming forward quickly. It would not be to the benefit of the house to have the gamblers disturbed at this moment. “Somebody punch you?” “I’ll thay they did!” lisped Smithy. He was half sobbing, but he was mad clear through. “They didn’t improve your looks none,” said Colorado. “Never mind muh lookth,” said Smithy. “I want to know what you fellers think of this?” “I just told you. Whoever done it didn’t make you any handsomer,” interposed the proprietor of the hall. “Now, if you’ve had a fight outside, don’t bring it in here. We’re plumb peaceable here to-night, we are.” “Wait till you hear what the kid’s got to say, Colorado,” put in one of those that had entered with Smithy. “Spit it out!” advised the proprietor. “I want to know what Mr. Joe Hurley thinks of this?” Smithy managed to make plain. “What do you think they are saying about Nell Blossom?” “Nell Blossom?” Hurley’s voice did not join the general chorus which repeated the cabaret singer’s name. But he looked up, his gaze met that of the parson, and a lightning glance of understanding passed between them. “What’s eatin’ on you, Smithy?” demanded Colorado Brown. “Up in Tolley’s. I was just in there. I heard Tolley and Tom Hicks and some others of his gang talkin’. I couldn’t help hearin’ what was said, and when I went for ’em this—this is what I got.” He almost choked on the words. Joe Hurley rose up as though a slow spring uncoiled beneath him. “What did they say, Smithy?” he asked, and the tone of his voice seemed to quell all other sounds. “Why, the skunks!” cried Smithy, “they said Nell Blossom shot Dick the Devil last spring and flung him over the wall of the canyon into Runaway River.” CHAPTER XXI—THE DRAMA OF A LIE The tense silence that followed Smithy’s half-sobbing speech marked the poignancy of the moment and the utter stupefaction of his hearers. To all but Joe Hurley and Hunt such an accusation as this aimed at Nell Blossom was entirely unlooked for. If the crowd understood anything at all, they understood that Boss Tolley, if he had started the scandal, courted annihilation! Indeed the first question fired at Smithy following his statement was: “Why didn’t you fill ’em with lead, Smithy?” “I didn’t have no gun,” replied the grocery clerk. “And Tom Hicks downed me before I could get at Tolley.” “Did he say it, Smithy?” demanded Colorado Brown. “’Twas him says he knows all about it. Says that Nell killed Dick Beckworth.”