"Gee-ee! Moses!" Ellhorn exclaimed, as his eyes, full of amazed inquiry, sought Tuttle's. But amazed inquiry of like sort was all that flashed back at him from Tuttle's mild blue orbs, and after an instant's pause he went on: "Whew! won't hell's horns be a-tootin' this afternoon! Confound this arm! Say, Tom, you-all go and tell Emerson about it and I'll skate around and find out what's goin' on." Tuttle hesitated. "You won't go to drinkin'?" "Not this time, Tommy! There'll be excitement enough here in another two hours without me making any a-purpose, and don't you forget it! Things are a-goin' to be too serious for me to soak any of my wits in whisky just now!" "No, Nick," said Tuttle, looking at the other's helpless arm, "I reckon I better go along with you-all, if there's likely to be any trouble." It was as Ellhorn predicted. Before night the town was buzzing with excitement. Wild rumors flew from tongue to tongue, and with every flight took new shape. Shops and offices were deserted and men gathered in knots on the sidewalk, discussing the quarrel between the cattlemen and Emerson Mead's possible connection with young Whittaker's disappearance, and predicting many and varied tragic results. All those who congregated on one side of the street scouted the idea that the young man had been murdered, indignantly denied the possibility of Emerson Mead's connection with his disappearance, insisted that it was all a trick of the Republicans to throw discredit on the Democrats, and declared that Will Whittaker would show up again in a few days just as much alive as anybody. Nearly all the men who had offices or stores in the long adobe building were Democrats, and the saloon it contained, called the Palmleaf, was the place where the men of that party congregated when any unusual excitement arose. On the other side of the street were the offices of the Fillmore Cattle Company, the White Horse saloon, and Delarue's store, all gathering places for the Republican clans. There it was declared that undoubtedly Emerson Mead had killed young Whittaker, and had come into town to kill the father, too, that other outrages against the Republicans would probably follow, and that the thing ought to be stopped at once. But each party kept to its own side of the street, and each watched the other as a bulldog about to spring watches its antagonist. A man, whose manner and well-groomed appearance betokened city residence, mingled with the groups about the cattle company's office, listening with interest to everything that was said. He himself did not often speak, but when he did every one listened with attention. He was of medium stature, of compact, wiry build, had large eyes of a pale, brilliant gray, and a thin face with prominent features. He joined Miss Delarue when she came down the street on her way home.