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 his legs a little while along the road before going to bed.

Things had come to him so fast in the three days since leaving Pawnee Bend for the border that his encounter with Kellogg seemed a remote incident of the past. Not so regrettable, either, as to cause him any further uneasiness. Strangely, the laughable incident of the fittified man was much fresher in his thoughts.

When Dunham returned to the Family Hotel he found MacKinnon behind the desk, smoking reflectively, the register at his elbow. There was nobody lounging in the office, although the sound of movement overhead indicated that guests had arrived. MacKinnon nodded, his behavior distant and uneasy.

"I thought maybe you'd changed your mind and gone," he said.

"Where to?" Dunham inquired, pretending surprise.

"Panhandle, as I told you. First thing you know, kid, you'll hang around this man's town a little bit too long."

"I didn't run into anybody that acted very sore," Dunham said. He turned the register as if looking for a familiar name among the late arrivals. "If I can't hook up to a job around here I guess I'll have to move."

"You can railroad, if that'd suit your tastes, like I told you before."

"No, I don't think I'm cut out for a railroader."

"Well, I tell you now, Bill, if you've got a quarter the sense I gave you credit for you'll straddle your horse and leave here tonight. You're a man that's standin' between two fires right now, either one of