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gaze altered into hardness. “All right, how do you?”
    â€œI’m glad he’s dead, Buck,” Frank said bluntly. “You can make anything out of that you want.”
    â€œNow, what would I make out of it?” Buck asked mildly.
    â€œLots of things. That I murdered him, so I hear.”
    â€œPeople talk too much,” Hannan said, still mildly. He had never ceased watching Frank, noting each change of expression, weighing what he noted.
    â€œHow did he die?” Frank asked.
    â€œWhy, his back was broken, and somebody stuck a knife between his ribs a couple of times.”
    Frank made no comment; his face was contained, non-committal, and Buck Hannan shook his head. “So you’re glad?” he observed.
    Frank said thinly: “What do you want to know, Buck? That we fought all the time? That I was broke? That Saber is a big outfit?”
    Hannan shook his head slowly. “No, I know all that. What I want to know is where you’ve been the last month.”
    Frank noticed his drink now. He drank it, said, “Come along,” rose, and led the way over to the table where Hulst’s crew was seated.
    Hugh Nunnally looked up as Frank halted beside him. He was a short, blocky man, under thirty, with a sleepy indolence about his every movement. He was Rhino’s first man, a born horse-trader with an astute knowledge of horses, a nerveless gall, and a devious mind, all smothered skillfully by a slow smile and the steady guileless eyes of a simple and satisfied man. Of the thirty men Rhino worked on and off his horse lot, Nunnally was absolute boss. He shared in all of Rhino’s countless deals, and he was the key figure in them all, from the sly sucker’s game from which he and Frank had just returned to the hiring and paying of the secret and furtive men who passed into Rhino’s office, talked behind closed doors, and disappeared. He wore a stained calico shirt, and his last shave had been days ago, so that his beard stubble, the same pale color as his thick hair under its tattered hat, gave him the air of an amiable and unwashed line rider.
    He nodded and grinned at Hannan, and Frank said, “Hugh, Hannan wants to know where I’ve been the last month.”
    Hugh frowned, regarding Frank lazily, and then he shifted his glance to Hannan. “Every place, Buck. Hell, when you buy horses, you cover a lot of ground.”
    â€œNot you,” Hannan said. “Chess here. He been traveling with someone all the time?”
    Hugh glanced again at Frank, and there was an odd and mild malice in his pale eyes. “Were you, Frank?”
    Frank felt a cold premonition stirring within him now. Rhino and Hugh, just as much as himself, had to hide the facts of the Army-officer swindle. The only way that could be done was for Nunnally to give immediate proof that Frank was never alone in the three months they’d been gone, so Hannan wouldn’t pry. Yet Nunnally was hesitating.
    A kind of wary panic was in Frank then. If he was on his own, he must be cautious, and he answered slowly, “Not always with someone, Hugh.”
    Nunnally looked up at Hannan now. “We were all over that country, Buck—singly and in pairs and the whole bunch. We’d hear of a Mormon with a good bunch of horses. One of us would go to his place to look ’em over. If it was a big bunch and they looked good, we’d buy and send for help to drive them back to the herd.” He frowned. “What’s all this about, anyhow?”
    â€œWas Chess alone long enough for him to ride back here without the rest of you knowing it?” Hannan persisted.
    Here it is , Frank thought. Nunnally’s glance, faintly mocking, lifted to Frank’s face, and Frank tried to still his excitement.
    Hugh scratched his head and said in a thoughtful voice, “Why, I don’t know, Buck. He might have been. I never kept track of him much. He knows a good horse, and what