game."

"I hope you find your friend," remarked Riley, with his deceptive
softness of tone.

"Friend? Hell! And that's where this friend will wish me when I heave
in sight. You can lay to that, and long odds!"

Sinclair waited, but the other changed his tack at once.

"If you ain't from Sour Creek, I guess you can't tell me what I want to
know."

"Maybe not."

The brown man looked about him for diversion. Presently his eyes rested
on Cold Feet, who had not stirred during all this interval.

"Son?"

"Nope."

"Kid brother?"

"Nope."

Cartwright frowned. "Not much of nothing, I figure," he said with
marked insolence.

"Maybe not," replied Sinclair, and again he glanced down.