“You got the best of me.”

“Wal, it’s a little dark in heah or your eyes are failin’,” returned Nevada, with a grin.

Whereupon the other took a stride and bent over to peer into Nevada’s face.

“I’m a son-of-a-gun,” he declared. “Jim Lacy! Back in Lineville! I’ve seen fellers come back I liked less.”

He shook hands heartily with Nevada. “Where you been, boy? You sure look well an’ fine to me.”

“Oh, I’ve been all over, knockin’ aboot, lookin’ for a job,” drawled Nevada, easily.

“An’ you come back to Lineville in winter, lookin’ for a job?” laughed Jones.

“Shore,” drawled Nevada.

“Jim, I’ll bet if I offered you work you’d shy like a colt. Fact is, though, I could do it. I’m not doin’ so bad here. There’s a lumber company cuttin’ up in the foothills. It’s a long haul to Salisbar, but they pass through here. Heard about Salisbar?”

“Yes. Reckon I’ll have to take a look at it. How far away?”

“Eighty miles or so,” returned Jones. “Some miners struck it rich, an’ that started Salisbar off as a minin’ town. But it’s growin’ otherwise. Besides mineral, there are timber an’ water, some good farmland, an’ miles of grazin’. All this is wakin’ Lineville up. There’s business goin’ on an’ more comin’.”

“Shore I’m glad, Mr. Jones,” said Nevada. “Lineville has some good people I’d like to see prosper.”

From the store Nevada dropped into a couple of places, where he renewed acquaintance with men who were glad to see him; and then he crossed to the other side of the wide street and went down to the Gold Mine. Dark had fallen and lamps were being lighted. The front of the wide two-story structure appeared quite plain and business-like, deceiving to the traveler. It looked like a respectable hotel. But the Gold Mine was a tavern for the outlaw elect, a gambling hell and a drinking dive that could not have been equaled short of the Mexican border.

Nevada turned the corner to take the side entrance, which led into the long dingily-lighted barroom. A half-dozen men stood drinking and talking at the bar. They noted Nevada’s entrance, but did not recognize him, nor did he them. The bartender, too, was strange to Nevada. A wide portal, with curtain of strung beads, opened into a larger room, which was almost sumptuously furnished for such a remote settlement as Lineville. The red hangings were new to Nevada, and some of the furniture. He remembered the gaudy and obscene pictures on the wall, and the card and roulette tables, and particularly the large open fireplace, where some billets of wood burned ruddily. Six men sat around one table, and of those whose faces were visible to Nevada he recognized only one, that of a gambler called Ace Black. His cold eyes glinted on Nevada, then returned to his game.

Nevada took the seat on the far side of the fire, where he could see both entrances to the large room. At the moment there was something akin to bitter revolt at the fact of his presence there.