Free Star Toter by Al Cody

Bannon paused as they stabled their horses.
    "I'll ride out tomorrow for another look at Ray," he promised. "I'd say he's got a pretty good chance, thanks to the job you did."
     
     
     
    Tired as he was, Locke could not sleep. Too much had happened. He tossed until the light grayed the window, then shaved and went to a restaurant. Few were astir at so early an hour—only an occasional swamper sweeping out a saloon, a mongrel dog prowling the garbage piles. The glitter of early sun reflected back from one of these. Locke went on a few steps, then swung abruptly and crossed for a look.
    Contrary to custom, this garbage had been placed in a box; it was unusual in other respects. An object of considerable value seemed to have been tossed from a window above into the box. It was another elk's tooth, and it was easy to see that it was the mate to the one he had found on the Wagon Wheel. Apparently they had been joined until the fastening had broken.
    Chance had led Locke to this other half, here at the rear of the Wild Buttes Saloon, King Steele's saloon.
     

10
    There was just one other customer ahead of him as Locke slid onto a stool in the Chuck House. The man was seated at a table, sheltered behind a newspaper which he read with avid interest. Since the date line was a month old, its news could be fresh only in Highpoint.
    Locke was turning back to his order when the paper was lowered. Both stared in surprise. Then Locke was off the stool, the other man shoving back so suddenly as to overturn his chair. A bristling red beard of several day's growth was thrust forward as eagerly as a horny hand.
    "Orin Locke." He grinned. "Why, you durned old ranny, looks like you beat me here!"
    "Where you been keepin' yourself, Ted?" Locke demanded. "Is all the news you get as old as the news in that paper? I've been back two-three days. I thought you'd have come and gone long since."
    "I was sort of delayed. Right now I'm drivin' stage," Ted Foley explained. "Been earnin' my livin' riding around and admirin' the scenery. They pay you for enjoyin' life."
    They talked, recalling their last meeting, which had been three years before and a thousand miles away.
    "Remember, I was all for heading into this country, and for you coming with me?" Foley recalled. "Only you wouldn't come. Said you might make it later. I was plannin' to head up across Nebraska, see what the country was like, and be back in a month."
    "Well, you got here," Locke commented.
    "Sure, I made it. Took me ten months, though. I kind of bogged down in Nebraska. I'll tell you about that, first chance I get. Right now, I got to go tend to some things."
    It was heartening to run into an old friend, and Locke was momentarily lifted out of his somber thoughts. They returned as he went back to the street, then were pleasantly disturbed as a voice hailed him. He turned to see Ginny.
    "Isn't this a glorious morning?" she called, then broke off at sight of his face. "Why, what's happened, Orin?"
    She listened sympathetically as he gave her a resume of the night's events.
    "Oh, I'm sorry," she breathed. "That's dreadful. If there's anything that I can do to help at any time, you must let me."
    "I'll remember," he promised, and was comforted by her concern. After a stop at his office he rode out to the Three Sevens and was surprised to find Bannon already there.
    "When you aren't hindered by a superfluity of patients, there is no excuse for neglecting those you have." Bannon shrugged. "Ray must have given quite an account of himself in that fight, before the six got the decision. There are contusions and bruises all over him."
    There had been no particular change in Ray's condition, but Bannon took a cheerful view.
    "He isn't so much unconscious as resting," he explained. "A man may be unconscious, yet restless and in torment of body and mind. And a restless patient can do himself a great deal of harm. I remember one time when I had to hypnotize one particularly bad case, in a lucid