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He came upon Gallup himself standing in his doorway, looking out thoughtfully upon the road jammed tight with restless men.

"Hello, Gallup," he said.

Gallup regarded him briefly; again his gaze flicked away.

"Don't remember me, eh?" queried Deveril lightly.

"No," said Gallup, curt in his preoccupation. "I don't."

"Must have something disturbing on your mind," suggested Deveril as genially as though Gallup's attitude had been exactly opposite what it was. "Haven't looked in on you for half a dozen years, but you ought to remember." Gallup's eyes came back slowly, a frown in them, and the other concluded: "Known as Deveril ... Babe Deveril, formerly of Cherokee...."

Gallup showed a quick, unmistakable sign of interest and Deveril laughed. But Gallup's frown darkened and there came a sudden compression to his lips.

"I got you, Kid," he said sharply. "You said it: There is a thing or two on my mind and I've got no time for gab. Just the same, take this from me: A certain Bruce Standing has been sent word the town can get along without him showing his face; and maybe, being his cousin, you'll trail your luck along with him."