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still doesn’t prove much.”
    McAllister rose.
    â€œIf I find him,” he said, a little of the disgust he felt showing in his voice, “if he’s still alive, I’ll give him to you on a plate.”
    He walked to the door until the marshal said: “McAllister.” He turned. The little man said: “Just remember I’m the law in this town and I don’t allow anybody to take it into their own hands.”
    â€œI’ll try an’ remember that.”
    â€œAn’ don’t forget to park your gun at the nearest saloon.”
    McAllister made a sound of disgust and walked out. Maybe he hadn’t wasted his time. He felt sure Malloy knew the man he had described. He chose a saloon called The Happy Home and drank two beers fast and after that he felt a little better. Then he found a barber shop, took a bath, a shave and a haircut. After that he cared for the inner man at a small café run by a man who could cook. He was waited on by a pretty girl with a heavy Swedish accent which added piquancy to the meal. After that he strolled down the street and turned into the next. Here he found a hotel and took a room. This overlooked the street. He put a chair under the door-handle and lay on the bed for a half-hour, thinking. He got up annoyed with himself. All he was fit for was nursing cows. He clapped his hat on his head and hurried down the street. Turning into Main he headed for the stock yards.
    These were so extensive that he would have saved himself a needless journey if he hadn’t come. But he asked around just the same, questioning the hired men if they had seen any Circle S stock in the last couple of days. They all denied that they had and after a while he wandered back into town.
    * * *
    Holst spoke to his foreman.
    â€œHank, take over. I have to go into town.” He caught up his saddler, saddled it and rode quickly into town, passing McAllister on the way. When he reached the hotel, he dismounted hurriedly and ran up the stairs. In the front room, he found Forster stretched out on the bed. The big man greeted him with a wide smile.
    â€œWhat brings you here in such a hurry, Holst?” he asked.
    â€œThe trouble you were expecting’s in town,” the dealer told him. That took the smile from his face. He threw his legs over the side of the bed.
    â€œWhat’s this?”
    â€œTall dark fellow down at the pens asking about Circle S stock.”
    â€œWho is he?”
    â€œHow should I know?”
    â€œWhere’d he go?”
    â€œLast I saw of him he was walking back into town from the pens.”
    â€œAnd you came by horse?”
    â€œYes,” said Holst.
    Forster reached for his hat and slapped it on.
    â€œCome on,” he said, “point him out to me.”
    Together they went down the stairs onto the street. They walked along the sidewalk a way until Holst said: “Here he comes now.”
    Forster ducked inside the nearest store doorway and Holst joined him. Forster saw a tall dark man walking along the ruts of the street.
    â€œI’ve never seen him before,” he said.
    â€œThat’s the one,” Holst insisted. “Well, I did what I came for, now I’ll get back to work.”
    â€œThanks, Holst.”
    â€œDon’t thank me, Forster. While you’re of value to me I’ll help.” He left the store and walked along the sidewalk back to his horse. Forster stayed where he was until the tall dark man had gone by, then he followed him cautiously. The man strode down Lincoln, not once looking back, and turned right at the intersection into Garrett. Here he entered a cheap hotel. Forster waited a while, then he too entered and asked the clerk at the desk the name of the man who had just gone in. The clerk who knew Forster gave the name readily. Remington McAllister. It meant nothing to Forster. He turned back onto the street.
    * * *
    Marshal Art Malloy sat in his office thinking of the young