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Five-Thousand-Dollar Fake .
    Jim Gatlin had been up the creek and over the mountains, and more than once had been on both ends of a six-shooter. Lean and tall, with shoulders wide for his height and a face like saddle leather, he was, at the moment, doing a workmanlike job of demolishing the last of a thick steak and picking off isolated beans that had escaped his initial attack. He was a thousand miles from home and knew nobody in the town of Tucker. He glanced up as the door opened and saw a short, thick-bodied man. The man gave one startled look at Jim and ducked back out of sight. Gatlin blinked in surprise, then shrugged and filled his coffee cup from the pot standing on the restaurant table.
    Puzzled, he listened to the rapidly receding pound of a horse's hoofs, then rolled a smoke, sitting back with a contented sigh. Two hundred and fifty-odd miles to th e north was the herd he had drifted northwest from Texas. The money the cattle had brought was in the belt around his waist and his pants' pockets. Nothing remained now but to return to Texas, bank the profit, and pick up a new herd.
    The outer door opened again, and a tall girl entered the restaurant. Turning right, she started for the door leading to the hotel. She stopped abruptly as though his presence had only then registered. She turned, and her eyes widened in alarm. Swiftly, she crossed the room to him. Are you insane?" she whispered. Sitting here like that when the town is full of Wing Cary's hands? They know you're coming and have been watching for you for days!"
    Gatlin looked up, smiling. "Ma'am, you've sure got the wrong man, although if a girl as pretty as you is worried about him, he sure is a lucky fellow. I'm a stranger here. I never saw the place until an hour ago!" She stepped back, puzzled, and then the door slammed open once more, and a man stepped into the room. He was as tall as Jim, but thinner, and his dark eyes were angry. Get away from him, Lisa! I'm killin' him-right now.
    The man's hand flashed for a gun, and Gatlin dove sidewise to the floor, drawing as he fell. A gun roared in the room; then Gatlin fired twice.
    The tall man caught himself, jerking his left arm against his ribs, his face twisted as he gasped for breath. Then he wilted slowly to the floor, his gun sliding from his fingers.
    * Gatlin got to his feet, staring at the stranger. He swung his eyes to the girl staring at him. "Who is that hombre?" he snapped. "What's this all about? Who did he think I was?"
    "You-you're not-you aren't Jim Walker?" Her voice was high, amazed.
    "Walker?" He shook his head. "I'm sure as hell not. The name is Gatlin. I'm just driftin' through."
    There was a rush of feet in the street outside. She caught his hand. Come! Come quickly! They won't listen to you! They'll kill you! All the Cary outfit are in town!"
    She ran beside him, dodging into the hotel, and then swiftly down a hall. As the front door burst open, they plunged out the back and into the alley behind the building. Unerringly, she led him to the left and then opened the back door of another building and drew him inside. Silently, she closed the door and stood close beside him, panting in the darkness.
    Shouts and curses rang from the building next door. A door banged, and men charged up and down outside. Jim was still holding his gun, but now he withdrew the empty shells and fed two into the cylinder to replace those fired. He slipped a sixth into the usually empty chamber. What is this placer he whispered. Will they come here?"
    -It's a law office, she whispered. I work here part-time, and I left the door open myself. They'll not think of this place. Stealthily, she lifted the bar and dropped it into place. Better sit down. They'll be searching the streets for some time .
    He found the desk and seated himself on the corner, well out of line with the windows. He could see only the vaguest outline of her face. His first impression of moments before was strong enough for him to remember she