“Gary Marshall, you said your name was? I reckon yuh-all must be the fellow that done that whirlwind riding in a picture I saw, last time I was in town. I forget the name of it--but I shore don’t forget the way yuh-all handled your hawse. A range rider gets mighty particular about the riding he sees in the movies. I’ll bet yuh-all never learned in no riding school, Mr. Marshall; I’ll bet another glass uh near beer you’ve rode the range some yourself.” “I was born on the Pecos,” grinned Gary. “My old man had horses mostly; some cattle, of course. I left when I was eighteen.” “And that shore ain’t been so many years it’d take all day to count ’em. Well, I shore didn’t expect to meet that fellow I saw in the picture, on my next trip in to town.” Gary drank his beer slowly, studying Monty Girard. Somehow he got the impression that Girard did not welcome the subject of Johnnywater. Yet he had seemed sincere enough in declaring that he had told the truth in the affidavit. Gary pushed the glass out of his way and folded his arms on the table, leaning a little forward. “Just where’s the joker in this Johnnywater deal?” he asked abruptly. “There is one, isn’t there?” “Wel-l--you’re going out there, ain’t yuh?” Monty Girard hesitated oddly. “I don’t know as there’s any joker at all; not in the way yuh-all mean. It’s a long ways off from the railroad, but Waddy wrote that in his letter to Mr. Connolly. I know that for a fact, because I read the letter. And uh course, cattle is down now--a man’s scarcely got a livin’ chance runnin’ cattle, the way the market is now. But Mr. Connolly must uh known all that. The price Waddy put on the outfit could uh told ’im that, if nothin’ else. I dunno as Waddy overcharged Connolly for the place. All depends on whether a man wanted to buy. Connolly did--I reckon. Leastways, he bought.” “Yes, I see your point. The deal was all right if a man wanted the place. But you’re wondering what kind of a man would _want_ the place. It’s a lemon of some kind. That’s about it--stop me if I’m wrong.” Monty Girard laughed dryly. “I’m mounted on a tired hawse, Mr. Marshall. I couldn’t stop a run-down clock, and that’s a fact.” “Well, I think I’ll go out with you if you don’t mind. I suppose I’ll need blankets and a few supplies.” “Well, I reckon Waddy left pretty much everything he had out there. Soon as he got his money at the bank he fanned it for Merrie England. He just barely had a suit case when I saw him last. I reckon maybe yuh-all better take out a few things you’d hate to get along without. Flour, bacon an’ beans you can pretty well count on. And, unless yuh-all want to take blankets of your own, you needn’t be afraid to use Waddy’s. Frank Waddell was shore a nice, clean housekeeper, and a nice man all around, only--kinda nervous.”