The newcomers seemed to be enjoying themselves enormously, and the greatest good-will prevailed. Nor was it until nearly supper-time that Bill suddenly stood up and declared he had had enough. He was a loser to the extent of nearly a hundred dollars. So the party broke up. And at Minky's suggestion the men departed to put their horses in the barn, while they partook of supper under his roof. It was the moment they had gone that the storekeeper turned on his friend. "Say, I ain't got you, Bill. Wot's your game?" he demanded, with some asperity. But the gambler was quite undisturbed by his annoyance. He only chuckled. "Say," he countered, "ever heerd tell of Swanny Long, the biggest tough in Idaho?" "Sure. But--" "That's him--that feller Sim Longley." The storekeeper stared. "You sure?" "Sure? Gee! I was after him fer nigh three--Say," he broke off--it was not his way to indulge in reminiscence--"I guess he's workin' with James." Then he laughed. "Gee! I allow he was rigged elegant--most like some Bible-smashin' sky-pilot." Minky was still laboring hard to understand. "But all that yarn of the gold-stage?" he said sharply. "That?" Bill at once became serious. "Wal, that's pretty near right. You ain't yearnin' fer that gang to come snoopin' around Suffering Creek. So I'm guessin' we'll hev to pass a gold-stage out o' her some time." "You're mad," cried Minky in consternation. "That's as may be," retorted Bill, quite unruffled. "Anyways, I guess I spent a hundred dollars in a mighty good deal this day--if it was rotten bad poker." And he turned away to talk to Slade of Kentucky, who entered the store at that moment with his friend O'Brien. CHAPTER XII THE WOMAN The woman turned from the window at the sound of footsteps somewhere behind her. That was her way now. She started at each fresh sound that suggested anyone approaching. Her nerves were on edge for some reason she could never have put into words. She did not fear, yet a curious nervousness was hers which made her listen acutely at every footstep, and breathe her relief if the sound died away without further intrusion upon her privacy. Presently she turned back to the window with just such relief. The footstep had passed. She drew her feet up into the ample seat of the rocking-chair, and, with her elbow resting upon its arm, heavily pressed her chin into the palm of her hand, and again stared at the rampart of mountains beyond.