“Wal! ef that ain’t the durnedest shootin’ ever I seen!” said one of the men. All agreed with him. “It means,” said Sam, gravely, “that we let the white-livered cuss upstairs alone. But you must come with us to the next joint, pardner.” “All right,” replied Patsy, “lead on.” “An’ you’ll hev to make some galoot dance soon as we find one of the right kind.” “Go ahead. I’m agreed.” The whole mob charged for the door. On the sidewalk they paused to decide which way to go. The street was not well lighted, and, while they were talking, Patsy slipped a beard to his face. “We’ll go to Danny Dineen’s next,” said Serpent Sam. “Come on, pard——” He looked around. “Where’s the sharpshooter?” he asked. Patsy pointed down the street. “He’s just scooted that way,” he said, in a disguised tone. “Durned ef I don’t believe he’s tryin’ to shake us!” cried Serpent Sam; “come on, boys, let’s catch up with him.” Off they went, yelling like mad, some jumping to their horses, others on foot. When they had all disappeared around a corner, Patsy took off his beard and went back into Bronco Bill’s. Bill and his bartender were alone in the place. “Great Scott!” exclaimed Bill, “where’d you come from?” “I thought I’d say good-night,” responded Patsy, laughing. “Didn’t you go with that crowd?” “You see.” “Wal, I don’t see how you done it, but you done me and my house a good turn, pardner. Gee! I thought they’d shoot the whole outfit to pieces. Have something?” “No, thank you. When they find that I’ve given them the shake, they may come back here, and if they find me, it won’t be so easy to get rid of them again. Tell ’em you don’t know where I went.” “All right, no more I do. Call again?” “To-morrow.” The detective then went out and crossed the street to his lodging. He sat at his window for more than an hour. He saw the horsemen return after a time, heard them singing and shouting in Bronco Bill’s, but he heard no more shooting, and he saw no more of Snell that night. CHAPTER V. CAUGHT IN THE HILLS. Next morning, in a fresh disguise, Patsy went over to Bronco Bill’s and saw Snell eating breakfast. The detective felt relieved. He had feared that the man might have been so frightened by the drunken horseman as to light out. Patsy had now been studying the man for several days. “I can’t make him out,” he said to himself, “but I don’t believe he’s a regular crook.” The detective was inclined to think that Snell had been up to crooked work, but that he was new to it. He went back to his lodging almost at once, and watched. Snell came to the door of Bronco Bill’s and stood there a moment, looking up and down the street. “He wants to walk for exercise,” thought the waiting detective, “but he doesn’t dare to get far away, for he’s expecting somebody. I won’t bother to follow him.” So Snell that morning took his walks alone. They were not long ones.