He sent the three men with him on ahead and walked down to the Belle Fourche and was told there by the bartender that Kneen and a dozen men were off looking for Cavanaugh. Cavanaugh had killed John Evarts, the bartender said. Bide listened impatiently, and without commenting he went over to a poker game and took a chair. He played erratically and impatiently and won, as he usually did, but the game lacked flavor tonight. He constantly watched the door and every hour or so asked for word of Kneen, and when the game broke up he stayed on playing a game of blackjack with the houseman. The stage from the reservation pulled in at midnight, and the driver came in for a drink, and Marriner gossiped with him a few minutes at the bar. But he was too restless for talk and he went out into the night. There were lamps still lighted in the hotel, and he went over to it and wakened the clerk, who sleepily sold him a dozen of his favorite cigars and went back to bed. Marriner fired up a smoke out on the sidewalk and paced down a block, crossed the street, came back, and poked his head in the Belle Fourche.
