Terry found a long line of a dozen horses waiting to
be shod before the blacksmith shop. One great wagon was lumbering out at
the farther end of the street, with the shrill yells of the teamster
calling back as he picked up his horses one by one with his voice.
Another freight-wagon stood at one side, blocking half the street. And a
stir of busy life was everywhere in the town. The hotel and store
combined was flooded with sound, and the gambling hall across the street
was alive even at midday.
It was noon, and Terry found that the dining room was packed to the last
chair. The sweating waiter improvised a table for him in the corner of
the hall and kept him waiting twenty minutes before he was served with
ham and eggs. He had barely worked his fork into the ham when a familiar
voice hailed him.
"Got room for another at that table?"
He looked up into the grinning face of Denver. For some reason it was a
shock to Terry. Of course, the second meeting was entirely coincidental,
but a still small voice kept whispering to him that there was fate in it.
He was so surprised that he could only nod.
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