Doc climbed down from his buggy and walked over to the marshal. "Matt, I got here as quick as I could." He nodded towards the stranger shoveling dirt in a grave. "Who's that?"

Matt's voice was even. "Black Jack Haggen's nephew."

"His nephew!" Doc was startled. "What's he doing here?"

"He claims to be after Haggen too. He wants to ride with me...help me track him down."

The old man ran his hand over his face. "I suppose you've thought of the possibility he might lead you straight into a trap?"

"Yes, I have," said Matt testily. "But I can't arrest a man because he's related to a killer I'm after and if they are in cahoots I want him where I can keep an eye on him. If he's telling the truth...if he's really after his uncle..." The marshal shrugged. "I can always use the help, Doc."

"I hope you know what you're doing." Doc looked over at the man. He had finished shoveling and was smoothing the dirt over the mound. "All right if I talk to him?"

Matt thought for a moment, then nodded. "Just don't rile him."

The old man raised his eyebrows, then turned and walked over to the grave, holding out his hand to the stranger. "I'm Doc Adams."

The hillman made no move to take it. "Festus Haggen."

Doc ran the hand over his face. "Marshal Dillon tells me you're riding with him."

"That's right."

"After your uncle?"

Festus' eyes narrowed. "That's right."

Doc ran his hand over his face again. "Well, I just wanted to wish you good luck."

The hillman said coldly, "Is that a fact?"

"Yes, it is!" Doc's voice rose in exasperation. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"Mebbe I wuz thinkin' you wuz worried 'bout yore friend ridin' with me 'cause I'm a Haggen." The old man looked embarrassed and Festus said quietly, "You don't got to fret, Doctor Adams. I got my own reasons for wantin' to catch up with Uncle Jack and I already done shook with the marshal. Once we've shook on it us Haggens don't go back on our word. He won't come to no harm if'n I can help it."

Their eyes met. It would be hard to imagine two men more dissimilar in appearance-Doc with his neatly trimmed mustache and slightly rumpled three-piece suit, Festus with his dirty clothes and smelly cowhide vest and scruffy whiskers-but the old man saw something in the hillman's eyes that gave him pause. They were hazel eyes, as wary as a wild animal's, but there was a gentleness in them that spoke to Doc of a kindred spirit. His own eyes warmed and he smiled and said, "I'm glad to hear it, Mr Haggen. Matt is an old friend of mine."

The hillman smiled back uncertainly. "Ain't none of us Haggens used to bein' called mister. My name's Festus." He wiped his hand on his leg and offered it to Doc. "I'll look after yore friend, Doctor."

Doc clasped the hard brown hand and turned away, then looked back. "Festus?"

The hillman was setting rocks in place around the grave. "Well?"

"Look after yourself too."