While you're doing that I'll skirmish around and see if there is a recently ridden horse at Pete's hitching pole or in his corral." Frank crossed the open space that lay between the road and the adobe and drummed on the front door with his knuckles.

After two or three attempts he succeeded in arousing some one who demanded to know what was wanted.
"I want a word with Pete Loco." Frank called.
The door was unbolted and drawn open, revealing a swarthy-visaged man in shirt and trousers, holding a candle.
"What in blazes d'ye want ?" asked the man with the candle in no very pleasant tone.

"I'm Pete Loco." "Any visitors staying with you to-night, Mr.Loco," Frank inquired.
"I reckon not! Think this here's a hotel ?" "I'm looking for a prospector named Porter.

The last we saw of him he was coming in this direction." "Nick Porter?
He's over to the mine.

Seen him there this afternoon." "He's not there now.