"Did you locate 'em--the strangers?" he grated. "That's sure the pinch," said Minky, wiping his broad forehead with a colored handkerchief. The heat in the dining-room was oppressive. "I've never see 'em before, an' they didn't seem like talkin' a heap. They were all three hard-lookin' citizens, an'--might ha' been anything from bum cowpunchers to--" "Sharps," put in Bill, between noisy sips at his coffee. "Yes." Minky watched a number of flies settle on a greasy patch on the bare table. "Y'see," he went on, after a thoughtful pause, "I don't like strangers who don't seem ready tongued--none of us do, since the stage-robbin' set in." "You mean--" Bill set his cup down. Minky nodded. "We ain't sent out a parcel of gold for months, an' I'm kind o' full up with dust about now. Y'see, the boys has got to cash their stuff, and I'm here to make trade, so--wal, I jest got to fill myself with gold-dust, an' take my chances. I'm mighty full just now--an' strangers worry me some." "You're weakenin'," said Bill sharply, but his eyes were serious, and suggested a deep train of swift thought. Presently he reached a piece of bread and spread molasses on it. "Guess you're figgerin' it 'ud be safer to empty out." Minky nodded. "And these strangers?" Bill went on. "They've lit out," said Minky ruefully. "I ast a few questions of the boys. They rode out at sun-up." "Where did they sleep?" "Don't know. Nobody seems to know." Minky sighed audibly. And Bill went on eating. "Ain't heerd nothing o' Zip?" the storekeeper inquired presently. "No." "'Bout that mare o' yours?" Bill's face suddenly flushed, and his fierce brows drew together in an ominous frown, but he made no answer. Minky saw the change and edged off. "It's time he was gettin' around." Bill nodded. "I was kind of wonderin'," Minky went on thoughtfully, "if he don't turn up--wot's to happen with them kids?" "I ain't figgered." Bill's interest was apparently wandering. "He'll need to be gettin' around or--somethin's got to be done," Minky drifted on vaguely. "Sure." "Y'see, Sunny's jest a hoboe." "Sure." "Don't guess Zip's claim amounts to pea-shucks neither," the storekeeper went on, his mind leaning towards the financial side of the matter. "No." "Them kids'll cost money, too." Bill nodded, but no one could have detected any interest in his movement. "How'd it be to get that claim worked for him--while he's away?" Bill shrugged. "Mebbe Zip'll be gettin' back," he said. "An' if he don't." "You mean?" There was interest enough in Bill now. His interrogation was full of suppressed force. "Yes. James." Bill sprang to his feet and kicked back his chair. The sudden rage in his eyes was startling, even to Minky, who was used to the man. However, he waited, and in a moment or two his friend was talking again in his usually cold tone. "I'll jest git around an' see how Sunny's doin'," he said.