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Updated: June 2, 2025
"Belle Shockley for the Reservation," answered McAlpin, promptly, "if she ain't changed her mind, it bein' so late." Sawdy put a brusque end to this uncertainty: "She's down there at the Mountain House waitin' seen her myself not ten minutes ago." Scurrying away, McAlpin came back in a jiffy with the driver, Bradley.
In a line and in a country in which many excelled in perhaps the most important regard, rivalry ran high and critics were naturally fastidious. The temptation to belittle even excellent work with rifle and revolver was, in Sawdy and especially in Carpy, partly due to temperament. Both men were bad gamesters because they bet on feeling rather than judgment.
Leaving her on a slight rise, where he told her he thought she could see, he got into the saddle and rode down to where the crowd had assembled. On a stretch of the trail extending along the creek, John Frying Pan, under the direction of Sawdy and Van Horn, was placing at intervals of from fifty to one hundred and fifty yards a series of targets.
The old man was game, boys, but he didn't have no show. He managed to get his gun out, both men a-shootin' at him." "Both!" echoed Laramie, bitterly. Sawdy swore a withering oath. "Is my father dead?" cried Kate in agony. "Not yet," replied Bradley disconcertingly. "We must get Carpy up there quick. Hunt him up, will you, John?" said Laramie to Lefever. "Hold on," interposed Bradley.
These were ordinary potatoes, left over from the barbecue, but selected with great care as to size and shape by the man whose money was up Sawdy; Frying Pan's work was to impale them on low-growing scrub along the trail to serve as targets. Against these targets six in number Laramie was to undertake to ride and to split five out of the six as he galloped past them with six and no more bullets.
Send your hired men after me; give 'em plenty of ammunition. They'll find me right here, Barb right here where I live." When Sawdy rode into Sleepy Cat next morning it was known that he had come from the Reservation and he was besieged for news from the Falling Wall. At Kitchen's, where he put up his horse; on his way up street to his room over McAlpin's pool hall, he was assailed with questions.
He made for the hotel, burst through the office door and headed straight for Laramie: "Kitchen's just rode into the barn, Jim, with word from Lefever and Sawdy they've got track of Van Horn. He come to Pettigrew's ranch yesterday for food and a fresh horse. One of John Frying Pan's boys seen him. Lefever says they've got him located near the head waters of the Crazy Woman.
"I'm telling you, Sawdy," expostulated McAlpin, in the manner of an ultimatum, "I'm a patient man. But you've got to get out of that room." Sawdy stood a statue of dignity and defiance: "And I'm telling you, Hop Scotch, I'll get out of that room when I get good and ready." "A big piece of ceiling came down last night," thundered McAlpin.
"Throw 'em away then. A present, ain't they? Nobody in town eats 'em but you." Kate unfortunately suggested braizing the sweetbreads for Sawdy and Lefever. "What?" exclaimed Belle. "Men don't eat sweetbreads, don't you know that? You've got to give 'em steak round steak and the tougher the better tough as cowhide and fried to tears. They'd be insulted.
And the sole impression she could snatch in the light and shadow of the redoubtable Sawdy, was narrowed to a pair of sweeping mustaches and a stern-looking hat. Lefever returned, his companion sauntering along after. Kate explained that she had telegraphed. At that moment an odd-looking man, with a rapid, rolling, right and left gait, ambled by and caught Kate's eye.
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