His keen eyes went slowly, hungrily, from face to face, as if he would
not have greatly objected to picking one of his companions in that very
room.

"Is they any strangers in town?" asked Larsen with his peculiar,
foolish grin.

Sandersen stirred in his chair; his heart leaped.

"There's a gent named Riley Sinclair nobody ain't never seen before."

"When did he come in?"

"Along about dark."

"That's the right time for us. You found Quade a long time dead, Bill."

Sandersen swallowed. In his joy he could have embraced Larsen.

"What'll we do?"

"Go talk to Sinclair," said Larsen and rose. "I got a rope."

"He's a dangerous-lookin' gent," declared Sandersen.

Larsen replied mildly: "Mostly they's a pile more interesting when
they's dangerous. Come on, boys!"

It had been well after midnight when Mason and Sandersen got back to
Sour Creek. The gathering of the posse had required much time. Now, as