"There ain't a hope for Jerry Strann?" cut in Buck Daniels. "Not one in a million," coughed Fatty, disposing of another formidable potion. "And when Jerry dies, Mac starts for this Barry?" "Who's been tellin' you?" queried O'Brien dryly. "Maybe you been readin' minds, stranger?" Buck Daniels regarded the bartender with a mild and steadfast interest. He was smiling with the utmost good-humour, but there was that about him which made big O'Brien flush and look down to his array of glasses behind the bar. "I been wondering," went on Daniels, "if Mac Strann mightn't come out with Barry about the way Jerry did. Ain't it possible?" "No," replied Fatty Matthews with calm decision. "It ain't possible. Well, I'm due back in my bear cage. Y'ought to look in on me, O'Brien, and see the mountain-lion dyin' and the grizzly lookin' on." "Will it last long?" queried O'Brien. "Somewhere's about this evening." Here Daniels started violently and closed his hand hard around his whiskey glass which he had not yet raised towards his lips. "Are you sure of that, marshal?" he asked. "If Jerry's held on this long ain't there a chance that he'll hold on longer? Can you date him up for to-night as sure as that?" "I can," said the deputy marshal. "It ain't hard when you seen as many go west as I've seen. It ain't harder than it is to tell when the sand will be out of an hour glass. When they begin going down the last hill it ain't hard to tell when they'll reach the bottom." "Ain't you had anybody to spell you, Fatty?" broke in O'Brien. "Yep. I got Haw-Haw Langley up there. But he ain't much help. Just sits around with his hands folded. Kind of looks like Haw-Haw _wanted_ Jerry to pass out." And Matthews went humming through the swinging door. CHAPTER XV OLD GARY PETERS For some moments after this Buck Daniels remained at the bar with his hand clenched around his glass and his eyes fixed before him in the peculiar second-sighted manner which had marked him when he sat so long on the veranda. "Funny thing," began O'Brien, to make conversation, "how many fellers go west at sunset. Seems like they let go all holts as soon as the dark comes. Hey?" "How long before sunset now?" asked Buck Daniels sharply. "Maybe a couple of hours." "A couple of hours," repeated Daniels, and ground his knuckles across his forehead. "A couple of hours!" He raised his glass with a jerky motion and downed the contents; the chaser stood disregarded before him and O'Brien regarded his patron with an eye of admiration. "You long for these parts?" he asked. "No, I'm strange to this range. Riding up north pretty soon, if I can get someone to tell me the lay of the land. D'you know it?" "Never been further north than Brownsville." "Couldn't name me someone that's travelled about, I s'pose?" "Old Gary Peters knows every rock within three day's riding. He keeps the blacksmith shop across the way." "So? Thanks; I'll look him up."