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his chair and studied Frank Carson for a long moment. "You wouldn't be getting around to telling me that you might could be some help to me on this matter, are you?"
    "What gives you the idea that I would know anything about the whiskey business, Mr. Long?"
    Longarm frowned. He said, "Well, you seem to be pretty well up on everything else around town."
    Carson said, "I know that the subject you're asking after is not one that most of these folks will open up to with a stranger." He yawned. "Speaking of chickens, it might be getting past my bedtime."
    "You say you don't know anything about the whiskey business?"
    "I didn't say that, Mr. Long." Frank Carson's face was still friendly, but there was a slight edge in his voice. "Of course, you didn't get off to a very good start in that poker game. Not that I blame you."
    Longarm's ears pricked up. "Are you talking about that Colton fellow?"
    Carson shook his head slowly. He said, "I'm not talking about anything, Mr. Long. I don't know anything. That's how I keep my welcome in this town."
    Longarm poured them both another drink. Carson started to protest, raising his hand, but then he let it drop. He said, "Oh, what the hell. I'll have one more, but then I really do have to hit the hay. I've got a pretty long ride tomorrow."
    Longarm said, "Are you leaving town?"
    Carson smiled. "Now who's asking about the other person's comings and goings?"
    "Well, it seems only fair since you know considerable about mine," Longarm said.
    "You weren't making no secret of them."
    Longarm said, "You going to be back in time tomorrow afternoon to help us find a poker game?"
    Carson frowned slightly. "I can't say that. Can't you find a poker game on your own?"
    "I've found some fifty cents and a dollar game, but I can't find any real poker game. I looked around all afternoon."
    Carson scratched behind his ear. He said, "Well, it could be that I'll be back here in time. You be around the hotel in the evening, sometime after supper?"
    Longarm said, "I'll make it a point to be."
    After breakfast the next morning, Longarm went back up to his room on the second floor. His room faced onto Main Street, and he looked out onto the scene below him, watching horsemen and wagons and carriages going back and forth. There was also considerable foot traffic up and down on the sidewalks in front of the stores. Little Rock was a busy town during the day and the early evenings, but it seemed to come to a trickling halt as the night wore on. At least, that had been his observation through two evenings and nights.
    After a while, he left the window, sat down on the bed, poured himself a short drink of whiskey, and lit a cigarillo. Things were going much slower than he had expected, and he could see time stretching out in a long, boring span with no sign of light on the horizon. Thus far, he not only hadn't found out anything about the whiskey, but he hadn't been able to find a good poker game and he hadn't seen a girl he could even halfway describe as pretty.
    His mind turned over and over any plan of attack that would shorten his time in Little Rock. Nothing presented itself. All he could see were boring days and worse nights in one of the worst towns he had ever been in. He would have much preferred to be in one of the little towns on the Tex-Mex border than to be in this strange place where there seemed to be a tremendous undercurrent somewhere below the surface with nothing going on above the top. He was pretty certain that if he was forced to spend more than a week in Little Rock, he would shortly either quit the service and turn in his badge or else go completely insane.
    There didn't seem to be much point in repeating his endeavors in circulating around among the saloons, so he had contented himself with walking around the different stores and then going back to the hotel for lunch. After that, he went down to a livery stable and rented a horse and saddle to take a ride out into the surrounding countryside. The