“It’s him, I tell you.” Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry shaded their eyes to peer across the dusty
street. They stared at the approaching figure, coming slowly towards them along the wooden
walkway that lined the row of stores and saloons in the little town of Red Rock.
“No, it isn’t,” Curry groaned. “You’re seeing things. It’s a mirage.”
“It’s him, I tell you,” Heyes muttered, turning and pretending to study a display of ladies’ hats in
a shop window. “I recognize the hat, and the way he walks. And I recognize that enormous six-
gun he carries.” He elbowed Curry in the ribs. “Don’t stare!”
“You’re staring,” the Kid growled.
“It’s him all right,” Heyes heaved a sigh. “Most of all, I recognize the star on his chest.”
They scurried across the dusty, sun-baked street, hats pulled low. The tall figure crossed the
street as well, his spurs kicking up little puffs of dust, as he continued in their direction. Heyes
stole a glance from under his hat brim, and groaned. “He’s still coming this way. Quick, let’s
duck in here.”
They pushed through the swinging doors of a saloon. The interior was cool and friendly after
the glare of the street. “Not a bad place to hide out for a while,” Curry remarked softly as they
leaned against the bar.
Heyes glanced cautiously around the dim, narrow room. “It’s got a back door, that’s all I’m
“Shh,” Curry hissed. “That old guy’s looking at us too.”
“You boys wouldn’t be interested in a friendly game of poker, by any chance?” a pleasant voice
inquired. “Awful quiet in here today.” A solitary man was shuffling a deck of cards at a nearby
table, and he raised his brows at the newcomers. He had pure white hair and a trim silver
goatee. The starched white suit and the gold watch chain stretched across his ample front told
of well-lined pockets. The Kid glanced at Heyes.
“Sure,” Heyes shrugged casually. “Why not?” It would be less conspicuous than idling in front of
The man dropped a few of the cards as he shuffled them awkwardly. “I have to confess, I’m not