Original, propping himself upon an elbow among the bed covers, recognized in Von Tromp a man he had occasionally met in the company of powerful members of the Stockmen's Alliance down in Cheyenne and Denver,—one of those mysterious figures on the inside of the councils of his employers whose business was beyond his own experience on the wide range. He apologized simply for his undress, saying he had had a long ride during the night. Von Tromp held up a suave hand to check explanations, seemingly in an impulse of absent-mindedness hung his hat on the door knob where it would cover the keyhole and drew a chair alongside Original's bed.
"Blunt," he began in a confidential tone, "I 'm not one to beat round the bush. I came to Two Moons to have a little talk with you—got in on the stage not an hour ago, in fact, here I am. Perhaps there 's no need of my mentioning any names—make it a point never to mention any names when I don't have to—but you 'll understand I represent some mighty important people—yes, some people of prime importance, Blunt—and what I have to say you may take as coming straight from them."
Original nodded slowly and reached to a
