They knew he had ridden into Alder before in the middle of the night and
they might suspect the danger of such another attack, but they surely would
not have fear of a solitary pedestrian unless a telltale light were thrown
upon his face.
He passed Captain Lorrimer's saloon. Even in this short interval it had
fallen into ill-repute after the killing at Alder. And a shanty farther
down the street now did the liquor business of the town; Captain Lorrimer's
was closed, and the window nailed across with slats. He went on. Partly by
instinct, and partly because it was aflame with lights, he moved straight
to the house at which he had learned tidings of three men he sought on his
last visit to Alder. Now there were more lights showing from the windows of
that place than there were in all the rest of Alder; at the hitching racks
in front, horses stood tethered in long double rows, and a noise of voices
rolled out and up and down the street. Undoubtedly, there was a festival
there, and all Alder would turn out to such an affair. All Alder, including
Vic Gregg, the seventh man.
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