If you cain’t get enough at them, there’s a Chink restaurant down the street, an’ a Navaho joint.”

“What time does the stage leave for Springertown?” asked Ernest, risking one more query.

“Wal, it goes at eleven an’ then again it don’t,” was the cryptic reply.

“Thanks for your courtesy,” returned Selby, without change of inflection or expression. His speech drew a suspicious glance. But nothing further was said, and he walked off toward the hotel. There he left his bag, and after asking a few more questions sallied forth to see the sights. The first object his eye fell upon, of any particular interest to him, was a handsome red-haired girl. As Ernest passed, half turning to get a glimpse of the western girl’s face, he heard her say to a companion: “Sorry, Polly, but I’m taking the stage this mawnin’ for Red Rock Ranch. Dad had me draw more money than I like to be responsible for.”

That remark interested the new owner of Red Rock Ranch. Impulsively he turned back and doffed his hat.

“Excuse me, Miss–” he began, then broke off abruptly, realizing he had been about to introduce himself.

The girl turned on him a pair of amused green eyes.

The young man from Iowa stuttered, but managed to go on: “W-will you, that is, can you direct me to a store where I can buy a riding outfit?”

“Can’t you read, Mister?” she replied, rather flippantly, as she pointed to the large white-lettered signs on the windows directly across the street.

Selby thanked her and started to cross the street, catching a remark as he did so about a good-looking tenderfoot. Part of the laughing remark pleased him and part of it did not. He was sensitive about being taken for a tenderfoot, because he knew he was one.

Choosing the restaurant kept by the Chinaman he went in to get breakfast. The place contained a long lunch counter and some tables. Evidently the kitchen was back of the counter. Mexicans and roughly garbed men seemed to be the only patrons of the place. Ernest took a seat at one of the tables placed along a thin board partition which separated the restaurant from the business next door. It must have been a very flimsy structure for his keen ears caught the sound of low voices from the other side. Every word was distinct.

“I seen Hepford’s gurl get it.”

“At the bank?”

“Shore. An’ she’s takin’ the Springer stage this mornin’.”

“S’pose thar’s others goin’, too?”

“Wal, Bud’ll git it if we don’t. He’s gone on ahead. But we’ll lay low fer a good chanct fer ourselves.”

Then came the sound of scraping chairs, followed by footsteps. Selby looked out of the window and a moment later saw two men emerge from the place next door. They were certainly hard-looking customers, and Ernest scrutinized them carefully. He would not be likely to forget either. They went quickly down the street, and such was Ernest’s degree of excitement that he could scarcely make the Chinaman understand what he wanted to eat. Then when he finally got it he had lost his appetite. What a wonderful opportunity had been fairly thrust upon him! The girl he had spoken to was the daughter of Hepford, the manager of Red Rock Ranch, and she was evidently going to be robbed. Now that he was in possession of such knowledge, he realized with growing excitement that it was going to be his duty to circumvent the robbers. The bandit referred to as Bud probably intended to hold up the stage somewhere while the two hardbitten men he had overheard would take passage upon it, waiting until a favorable opportunity presented itself for carrying out their plans. Well, he was going to be aboard that stage, too, and he would watch carefully for a chance to nip the bandits’ plot in the bud with little or no risk. To be able to introduce himself at Red Rock Ranch with such a coup to his credit would assure his reception there and the possibility of being employed as a ranch hand. Nothing tenderfoot about that!

The idea possessed him to such an extent that he completely smothered an inward voice which advised notifying the town authorities.