"Sure." Minky held up a small bottle of tabloids. "Camel-hell," he said, with the assurance of a man who knows the worth of the article he is offering for sale. "Now this yer is Camel-hell--C-a-l-o-m-e-l. And I'd sure say the name is appropriate. That doggone 'drummer' feller said ther' was enough in one o' them bottles to kep the stummicks of a whole blamed menagerie right fer six months. It's real dandy--" He broke off suddenly, and his look of enthusiasm was abruptly replaced by one of anxious interest that bordered closely on apprehension. His audience realized the change, and both men glanced swiftly in the direction whence the storekeeper's gaze had become so suddenly concentrated. Instantly they became aware that two strangers had quietly entered the store, and had taken their places at one of the tables under the open window. Bill thought he recognized one of the men, but was not sure where he had seen him. Sandy saw nothing remarkable in their presence, and at once turned back to the counter. "More of 'em," said Minky in a low tone, when finally Bill turned back to him. "Yes. Many while I bin away?" "Four or five. All--come along fer a game--it seems." Minky's eyes were brooding. Suddenly a light of intelligence sprang into Bill's thoughtful face. "Ah, I remember one o' them. I see him in Spawn City--in a bum gamblin' dive." Sandy suddenly roused to a keen interest. "Them strangers," he said--"that 'minds me I was talkin' to one last night. He was askin' me when a stage was running from here." "What d'you tell him?" demanded Bill quickly, and Minky's eyes asked the question too. Sandy laughed conceitedly. "I sure said ther' wa'an't no stages runnin', with James' gang around. I wa'an't goin' to give nuthin' away to strangers. Y'see, if I'd pretended we was sendin' out stages, we'd have that gang hangin' around waitin'. 'Tain't no use in gatherin' wasps around a m'lasses-pot." "No. You didn't tell him nuthin' else?" Bill inquired, eyeing him shrewdly. "I did that," said Sandy triumphantly. "I filled him up good. I jest told him we was wise to James an' his gang, an' was takin' no chances, seein' Sufferin' Creek was such a rich lay-out. I told him we was bankin' up the gold right here, an' holdin' it till the pile was so big we could claim a Gover'ment escort that could snap their fingers at James an' his lay-out." A swift exchange of glances passed between the gambler and the storekeeper. And then, in a quiet voice, Bill demanded-- "Anything else?" "Nothing o' consequence," replied Sandy, feeling he had acquitted himself well. "He jest asted if Minky here banked the stuff, an' I 'lowed he did." "Ah!" There was an ominous sparkle in Bill's eyes as he breathed his ejaculation. Then, with a quiet sarcasm quite lost on the obtuse widower, "You'd make an elegant sheriff's officer. You'd raise hell with the crooks." Sandy appeared pleased with what he took for praise. "I'd show 'em some--"