"Tryin' to get in for a treat," grinned Johnny, full of laughter. "Had a spat with Pop an' Charley, an' cussed if they ain't locked me out!" The stranger showed no answering smile. "That so?" he sneered. "Reckon you better come along with me, 'round front, till I hears what Hayes has to say about it. _I_ don't believe he's home." Johnny's expression changed from a careless grin to an ominous frown. "If you do any walkin' you'll do it alone." Several people had been drawn to the scene and took in the proceedings with eager eyes and ears, but were careful to keep to one side. Jim Ackerman had a reputation which made such a location very much a part of discretion; and the two-gun man had been well discussed by Pop. "I finds you tryin' a man's window," said Ackerman. "So I stopped to ask about it. As long as I've took this much trouble I'll go through with it. You comin' peaceful, or must I drag you around?" "Mebby that's a job you'd like to tackle?" replied Johnny. "I'm aimin' to be peaceful," rejoined Ackerman, his voice as smooth as oil; "but I allus aim to do what I say. You comin' with me?" "If yo're aimin' to be peaceful, yo're plumb cross-eyed," retorted Johnny, slouching away from the wall. Quick steps sounded within the building and a frightened, high-pitched voice could be heard, "Couple of bobcats lookin' for holts," it said. "That feller Nelson is pickin' on somebody else." The window raised and Pop stuck his angry face out to see what was going on; and his wrinkled countenance paled suddenly when he saw Ackerman, and the look in his eyes. He had a trout in one hand and a bloody knife in the other, and both fell to the ground. "Jumpin' mavericks!" he whispered. "It's Ackerman! What's wrong, Jim?" he quavered. "You saved us a walk," replied Ackerman, not taking his eyes from the flushed face of his enemy. "I caught _him_ tryin' to open that window." Charley thrust his head out as Pop replied. "We was playin' a joke on him. It's all right, Jim. Much obliged for yore unusual interest." "Well, I'm glad of _that_," smiled Ackerman; "but he looked _suspicious_ an' I reckoned I ought to drag him around an' show you what I _found_ tryin' to bust in. But if you _say_ it's all right, why I reckon it _is_!" "I reckon it ain't!" snapped Johnny, enraged at his humiliating position and at the way Ackerman accented his words. "An' if that itchin' _trigger_-finger of _yourn_ wants to get _busy_ it has my permission," he mimicked "Pop," he said, sharply, "who _is_ this buzzard?" "No need to get riled over a thing like that," faltered Pop. "Shut yore trap!" snapped Charley, battle in his eyes. "That's Ackerman, relative of Quigley's; th' best six-gun man in th' country."