direction; and he'll probably aim to climb my hump. Such being the case,
and the affair being private, you'll do me a favour by supervising
something in some remote corner of the premises."

"Sure," said McCloud, "I'll go twist that Chink washee-man. Been
intending to for a week." And he stumped out on his wooden foot.

The comet hit at precisely 7:42 by McCloud's big clock. Its head was
Brower at high speed and tension; and its tail was the light alkali dust
of Arizona mingled with the station agent. No irresistible force and
immovable body proposition in mine; I gave to the impact.

"Why, sure, I got 'em for you," I answered. "You left your dope lying
around loose so I took care of it for you. As for your bag; you seemed
to set such store by it that I got that for you, too."

Which deflated that particular enterprise for the moment, anyway. The
station agent, too mad to spit, departed before he should be tempted
beyond his strength to resist homicide.

"I suppose you're taking care of my gun for me, too," said Brower; but
his irony was weak. He was evidently off the boil.

"Your gun?" I echoed. "Have you lost your gun?"

He passed his hand across his eyes. His super-excitement had passed,
leaving him weak and nervous. Now was the time for my counter-attack.

"Here's your gun," said I, "didn't want to collect any lead while you
were excited, and I've got your dope," I repeated, "in a safe place." I