Very few of the citizens of Haskell were abroad, although a small group were ornamenting the platform in front of Healey’s saloon opposite.  At that moment the little marshal, his broad-brimmed hat cocked over one eye, emerged from the narrow alleyway between the Red Dog and the adjacent dance-hall, and stood there doubtfully, his gaze wandering up and down the deserted street.  As Westcott descended the hotel-steps, the marshal saw him, and came forward.  His manner was prompt and businesslike.

“Hello, Jim,” he said rather briskly, “I was sorter lookin’ ’round fer yer; somebody said yer hoss was up at the stable.  Had a little trouble up your way last night, I hear.”

“Nothing to bother you, Dan; my Mexican watchman was shot up through a window of the shack.”

“Kill him?”

“Instantly; I told the coroner all about it.  Whoever the fellow was I reckon he meant the shot for me, but poor Jose got it.”

“Yer didn’t glimpse the critter?”

“No, it was long after dark.  I’ve got my suspicions, but they’ll keep.  Seen Bill Lacy this morning?”

The marshal’s thin lips smiled grimly as his eyes lifted to Westcott’s face.

“He’s back there in his office.  That’s what I stopped yer for.  He said he rather expected ye’d be along after awhile.  What’s up between yer, Jim?  Not this Mexican shootin’ scrape?”

“Not unless he mentions it, Dan, although I reckon he might be able to guess how it happened.  Just now I’ve got some other things to talk about—­he’s cutting into my vein.”

“The hell he is!”

“Sure; I got proof of it last night.  He’s running a cross channel.  I was down his shaft.”

“I heard he’s knocked off work; discharged his men.”

“Yes, but only to give him time in which to pull off some other deviltry.  That gave me opportunity to learn just what was being done.  I slipped into the workings after the gang had left, and now I’ve blocked his game.  Say, Dan, what do you know about that Mexican, Mendez?”

“Nuthin’ good.  I never put eyes on the fellow.  Some claim he’s got a place where he hides, out thar in the Shoshone desert, but I never got hold of anybody yet as really knew.”

“There is such a man, then?”

“Sure.  Why he an’ his gang had a pitched battle down on Rattlesnake ‘bout six months ago; killed three of the sheriff’s posse, an’ got away.  Seemed like the whole outfit naturally dropped inter the earth.  Never saw hide ner hair of ’em afterward.”

“I’ve heard that he and Bill Lacy were in cahoots.”

“Likely enough; ain’t much Lacy ain’t into.  He’s been sellin’ a pile of cattle over at Taylorsville lately, an’ likely most of ’em was stole.  But hell!  What can I do?  Besides, that’s the sheriff’s job, ain’t it?  What yer goin’ in to see him about, Jim?”

“Only to ask a few questions.”

“There ain’t goin’ ter be no fight er nuthin’?” anxiously.