Henry looked up inquiringly: "Yes?"

"Yes," said the marshal gravely. "I was." His tone repulsed any

comment and he kept on thinking from where he had left off.

Henry shifted on the chair and recrossed his legs, one foot starting to

swing gently to and fro. To put himself _en rapport_ with his

forbidding companion, he too, began thinking; or at least he simulated a

thinker. The swinging foot stopped, jiggled up and down a few times, and

began swinging more energetically. Soon he began drumming on the chair

with the fingers of one hand. Presently he shifted his position again,

recrossed his legs, grunted, and drummed alternately with the fingers of

both hands. Then they drummed in unison, the nails of one set clicking

with the rolling of the pads of the fingers of the other hand. Then he

puckered his lips and began to whistle.

"Don't do that!" snapped Tex, and returned to his cogitations.

"What? Which?" asked Henry, starting.

"That!" exploded the marshal savagely and lapsed into intense

concentration.

Henry's lips straightened and he looked down at the drumming fingers,

and stopped them. Squirming on the chair, he uncrossed his legs and

pushed them out before him, intently regarding the two rounded groves in

the dust made by his high heels. Then he glanced covertly at his

frowning companion, cleared his throat tentatively, and became quiet as

the frown changed into a scowl.

The marshal thought that his visitor must have something important on

his mind, something needing tact and velvety handling. Otherwise he

would have become discouraged by this time and left. Was it about Jane?

That would be the natural supposition, but he slowly abandoned it.

Henry never had shown any timidity when speaking about her. It must be

something concerning the riot in the hotel.

"I say it can't be nothin' else!" fiercely muttered the marshal, his

chair dropping solidly to all fours as he rammed a fist into an open

palm. "No, sir! It _can't!_" He glared at his companion. "What did

you say?"

"Huh?" demanded Henry, his chair also dropping to all fours because of

the impetus it had received from his sudden start. "What for?" he asked

inanely.

"What for what?" growled Tex accusingly. "Who said: 'What for'?"

"I did: I just wanted to know," hastily explained Henry in frank amity.

"That's what you said!" retorted Tex, leaning tensely toward him; "but

what did you mean?" he demanded.

"What you talkin' about?" queried Henry, truly and sincerely wondering.

"Don't you try to fool me!" warned Tex. "Don't pretend you don't know!

An' let me tell you this. You are wrong, like th' ministers an' all th'

rest of th' theologians. That's th' truest hypothesis man ever

postulated. It proves itself, I tell you! From th' diffused,

homogeneous, gaseous state, whirlin' because of molecular attraction,

into a constantly more compact, matter state, constantly becomin' more

heterogeneous as pressure varies an' causes a variable temperature of

th' mass. Integration an' heterogeneity! From th' cold of th' diffused

gases to th' terrific heat generated by their pressure toward th' common

center of attraction. Can't you see it, man?"

Henry's mouth remained open and inarticulate.

"You won't answer, like all th' rest!" accused Tex. "An' what heat! One

huge molten ball, changing th' force of th' planets nearest, shifting

th' universal balance to new adjustments. 'Equilibrium!' demands

Nature. An' so th' struggle goes on, ever tryin' to gain it, an' allus

makin' new equilibriums necessary, like a dog chasin' a flea on th' end

of his spine. Six days an' a breathin' space!" he jeered. "Six

trillion years, more likely, an' no time for breathin' spaces! What you

got to say to that, hey? Answer me this: What form of force does th'

integration postulate? Centrifugal? Hah!" he cried. "You thought you

had me there, didn't you? No, sir; not centrifugal--centripetal!

Integration--centripetal! Gravity proves it. Centrifugal is th'

destroyer, th' maker of satellites--not th' builder! Bah!" he grunted.

"You can't disprove a word of it! Try it--just try it!"

Henry shook his head slowly, drew a deep breath and sought a more

comfortable position. "These here chairs are hard, ain't they?" he

remarked, feeling that he had to say something. Surely it was safe to

say that.

Tex leaped to his feet and scowled down at him. "Evadin', are you?" he

demanded. Then his voice changed and he placed a kindly hand on his

companion's shoulder. "There ain't no use tryin' to refute it,

Hennery," he said. "It can't be done--no, sir--it can't be done. Don't

you ever argue with me again about this, Hennery--it only leads us

nowhere. Was it Archimedes who said he could move th' earth if he only

had some place to stand? He wasn't goin' to try to lift himself by his

boot straps, was he, th' old fox? That's th' trouble, Hennery: after all

is said we still got to find some place to stand." He glanced over

Henry's head to see Doctor Horn smiling at him and he wondered how much

of his heavy lecture the physician had heard. Had he expected an

educated man to be an auditor he would have been more careful. "That was

th' greatest hypothesis of all--the hypothesis of Laplace--it answered

th' supposedly unanswerable. Science was no longer on th' defensive,

Hennery," he summed up for the newcomer's benefit.

"Truly said!" beamed the doctor, getting a little excited. "In proof of

its mechanical possibility Doctor Plateau demonstrated, with whirling

water, that it was not a possibility, but a fact. The nebular

hypothesis is more and more accepted as time goes on, by all thinking

men who have no personal reasons strong enough to make them oppose it."

He clapped the stunned Henry on the back. "Trot out your refutations

and the marshal and I will knock them off their pins! Bring on your

theologians, your special-creation adherents, and we'll pulverize them

under the pestle of cold reason in the mortar of truth! But I never

thought you were interested in such beautiful abstractions, Henry; I

never dreamed that inductive and deductive reasoning, confined to purely

scientific questions appealed to you. What needless loneliness I have

suffered; what opportunities I have missed; what a dearth of

intellectual exercise, and all because I took for granted that no one in

this town was competent to discuss either side of such subjects. But

he's got you with Laplace, Henry; got you hard and fast, if you hold to

the tenets of special creation. Now that there are two of us against

you, I'll warrant you a rough passage, my friend. 'Come, let's e'en at

it!' We'll give you the floor, Henry--and here's where I really enjoy

myself for the first time in three weary, dreary years. We'll rout your

generalities with specific facts; we'll refute your ambiguities with

precisions; we'll destroy your mythological conceptions with rational

conceptions; your symbolical conceptions with actual conceptions; your

foundation of faith by showing the genesis of that faith--couch your

lance, but look to yourself, for you see before your ill-sorted array a

Roman legion--short swords and a flexible line. Its centurions are

geology, physics, chemistry, biology, astronomy, and mathematics.

Nothing taken for granted there! No pious hopes, but solid facts,

proved and re-proved. Come on, Henry--proceed to your Waterloo!

Special creation indeed! Comparative anatomy, single-handed, will prove

it false!"

"My G--d!" muttered Henry, forgetting his mission entirely. His head

whirled, his feet were slipping so rapidly that he did not know where he

was going. He stared, open-mouthed at Doctor Horn, dumbly at the

marshal, got up, sat down, and then slumped back against his chair,

helpless, hopeless, fearing the worst. Over his head hurled words he

thought to be foreign, as his companions, having annihilated him, were

performing evolutions and exercises of their verbal arms for the sheer

joy of it. Finally, despairing of the lecture ever ending, he arose to

escape, but was pushed back again by the excited, exultant doctor.

Daylight faded, twilight passed, and it was not until darkness descended

that the doctor, finding no opposition, but hearty accord instead, tired

of the sound of his own voice and that of the marshal, and after profuse

expressions of friendship and pleasure, departed, his head high, his

shoulders squared, and his tread firm and militant.

Henry's sigh of relief sounded like the exhaust of an engine and he

shifted again on the chair and tried to collect his scattered senses.

Before he could get started the marshal sent him off on a new track, and

his unspoken queries remained unspoken for another period.

"Seen Miss Saunders yet?" asked Tex, struggling hard to conceal his

laughter.

Henry shook his head. "No; but I ain't goin' to wait much longer. I

don't see no signs of her weakenin', an' that C Bar puncher is gittin'

too cussed common around her house. For a peso I'd toss him in th'

discard. I reckon yore way ain't no good with her, Marshal. I got to

do somethin'--got to get some action."

"I know about how you feel," sympathized Tex. "I know how hard it is to

set quiet an' wait in a thing like this, Hennery, even if action does

lose th' game. Who was it you aimed to have perform th' ceremony?"

"Oh, there's a pilot down to Willow--one of them roamin' preachers that

reckons he's found a place where he can stick. He'll come up here if

th' pay's big enough, an' if I want any preacher. He'll only have to

stay over one night to git a train back ag'in. Anyhow, if we has to wait

a day or two it won't make much difference, as long as we're goin' to

git hitched afterward."

Tex closed his eyes and waited to get a good hold on himself before

replying. "He'll come for Gus, all right," he said. "Think you can

hold out a few days more--just to see if my way will work? It'll be

better, all around, if you do. Where was you aimin' to buy them

presents for her?"

"Kansas City or St. Louie--reckon St. Louie will be better. Gus gets

most of his supplies from there. You still thinkin' stockin's is th'

proper idea?"

Tex cogitated a moment. "No; they're a little embarrassin': better try

gloves. I'll find out th' size from her brother. Nice, long white

gloves for th' weddin'--an' mebby a nice shawl to go with 'em--Cashmere,

with a long fringe. They're better than stockin's. You send for 'em

an' wait till they come before you go around. You shouldn't go

empty-handed on a visit like that. An' you want th' minister with you

when you go after her--you can leave him outside till he's needed.

Folks'll talk, an' make trouble for you later. There's tight rules for

weddin's; very tight rules. You don't want nobody pokin' their fingers

at yore wife, Hennery. It'll shore mean a killin', some day."

"I ain't so cussed anxious to git married," growled Henry. "It's hard

to git loose ag'in--but I reckon mebby I better go through with it."

"I--reckon--you--had," whispered Tex, his vision clouding for a moment.

He grew strangely quiet, as though he had been mesmerized.

"A man can allus light out if he gits tired of it," reflected Henry

complacently.

The marshal arose and paced up and down, thankful for the darkness,

which hid the look of murder graven on his face. "Yes," he acquiesced;

"a man--allus--can--do--that." This conversation was torturing him.

Anything would be a relief, and he threw away the results of all his

former talking. "What was on yore mind when you come down to see me

today?"

"Oh!" exclaimed his companion a little nervously. "I plumb forgot all

about it. You see," he hesitated, shifting again on the chair, "well,

it's like this. Us boys admires th' way you handled things in th' hotel

this afternoon, but somebody might 'a' been killed. 'Tain't fair to let

a passel of Irish run this town--an' they started th' fight, anyhow.

Th' big Mick kicked Jordan's gun out of his hand an' jumped on him. Then

th' others piled in, an' th' show begun. We sort of been thinkin' that

th' marshal ought to back up his town ag'in' them foreigners. Gus is

mad about it--an' he's bad when he gits his back up. He thinks we ought

to go down to th' railroad an' run them Micks out of town on some sharp

rails, beatin' 'em up first so they won't come back. Th' boys kinda

cotton to that idea. They're gettin' restless an' hard to hold. I

thought I'd find out what side yo're on."

Tex stopped his pacing, alert as a panther. "I ain't on no side but law

an' order," he slowly replied. "I told that section-gang to stay on th'

right-of-way. They're leavin' town early tomorrow mornin', an' may not

come back. A mob's a bad thing, Hennery: there's no tellin' where it'll

stop. Most of 'em will be full of likker, an' a drunken mob likes

bright fires. Let 'em fire one shack an' th' whole town will go: hotel,

Mecca, an' all. It's yore best play to hold 'em down, or you an' yore

uncle will shore lose a lot of money. Th' right-of-way is th' dead

line: I'll hold it ag'in' either side as long as I can pull a trigger.

You hold 'em back, Hennery; an' if you can't, don't you get out in th'

front line--stay well behind!"

"Mob's do get excited," conceded Henry, thoughtfully. "Reckon I'll go

see what Gus thinks about it. See you later."

Tex watched him walk away, silhouetted against the faintly illuminated

store windows, and as the door slammed behind him the marshal shifted

his heavy belts and went slowly up the street and into the hotel, where

he received a cold welcome. Seeing that the room was fairly well

crowded, accounting for most of the men in town and all of the afternoon

crowd, he sat in a corner from where he could see both doors and

everything going on.

In a few minutes Gus Williams and Henry entered and began mixing with

the crowd, which steadily grew more quiet, but more sullen, like some

wild beast held back from its prey. Henry sat at one table, surrounded

by his closest friends, while his uncle held court at another. The

nephew was drinking steadily and his glances at the quiet marshal became

more and more suspicious. Around midnight, the temper of the crowd

suiting him, Tex arose and went down the street toward his office,

passed around it and circled back over the uneven plain, silently

reaching the railroad near the box car.

Murphy quietly crept out of his bunk, gun in hand, and slipped to the

door, pressing his ear against it. Again the drumming of the fingers

sounded, but after what had occurred earlier in the day he wanted more

than a tapping before he opened the door or betrayed his presence in the

car. Soon he heard his name softly called and recognized the voice. As

quietly as he could, he slid back the door and peered into the caller's

face from behind a leveled gun.

"Don't let that go off," chuckled Tex, stepping inside. "Close th'

door, Tim."

Murphy obeyed and felt his way to his visitor and they held a

conversation which lasted for an hour. Tex's plans of action in certain

contingencies were more than acceptable to the section-boss and he went

over them until he was letter-perfect. To every question he gave an

answer pleasing to the marshal and when the latter left to go up and

guard the toolshed and its inmates he felt more genuine relief than he

had known since he had become actively engaged in the town's activities.

Things were rapidly approaching a crisis and the knowledge had filled

him with dread; now let it come--he was ready to meet it.

Silently he chose a position against the railroad embankment close to

the toolshed and here he remained until dawn. Murphy and Costigan

passed him in the darkness on a nearly silent hand car, going west, but

did not see him; and he did not know that they had returned until the

sky paled. For some time he had heard a bustling in the building, and

just as he was ready to leave he saw the section-gang roll out their own

hand car and go rumbling up the line toward Scrub Oak.

*CHAPTER XX*

*PLANS AWRY*

For the next few days a tense equilibrium was maintained in the town,

the marshal, grim, alert, and practically ostracized by nine-tenths of

the population. He could feel the veiled hostility whenever he went up

and down the street, and silence fell abruptly on groups of men

conversing here and there whenever he was seen approaching. Hostile

glances, sullen faces, shrugging shoulders greeted him on every side,

and he felt more relieved than ever when he reviewed his arrangements

with the section-boss.

Henry Williams was growing openly suspicious of him, impatiently

awaiting the arrival of the presents from St. Louis, which he had

ordered through Jerry's telegraph key, and he was drinking more and more

and keeping more and more to himself, his only company being two men

whom Tex had been watching since the death of Bud Haines. The marshal

felt that with the coming of the presents trouble would begin, and he

had asked Jerry to keep a watch for them, and let him know the moment

they arrived. Fate tricked him here, for when they did come they were

packed in a large consignment of goods for Gus Williams, and since he

regularly was receiving shipments there was nothing to indicate to the

station agent that Henry's gifts had passed through his hands.

Henry's suspicions of the marshal were cumulative rather than sudden.

Never very confident about what Tex really thought and what he might do,

certain vague memories of looks and of ambiguous words and actions

recurred to the nephew. He was beginning to believe that the marshal

would shoot him down like a dog if he pressed the issue as he intended

to press it in regard to Jane Saunders, and he was determined that Tex

should have no opportunity to go to her defense. Several methods of

eliminating the disturbing marshal presented themselves to the

coyote-cunning mind of the would-be lover. He could be shot from cover

as he moved about in his flimsy office, or as he slept. He could walk

into a rifle bullet as he opened his door some morning, or he could be

decoyed up to Blascom's while Henry's plans went through. This last

would taste sweeter in the public mouth than a coldly planned murder,

but on the other hand the return of the marshal might end in cyclonic

action. There was no doubt about Tex's feelings in regard to killing

when he felt it to be necessary or justified. He would kill with no

more compunction than a wolf would show. Then from the mutterings of

rebellion and the sullen looks of discontent among the hotel habitues a

plan leaped into the nephew's mind. It solved every objectionable

feature of the other schemes; and Henry forthwith went to work.

The nephew was no occult mystery to a man like the marshal, who almost

could see the mental wheels turning in any man like him. Tex was

preparing for eventualities and part of the preparation was the buying

of a pint flask of whiskey from Carney--a bottle locally regarded as

pocket-size. When night fell he emptied into the liquor a carefully

computed amount of chloral hydrate, recorked it, shook it well, and

placed it among sundry odds and ends in a corner of the office, where it

would be overlooked by any thirsty caller, whose glance was certain to

notice the bottle of whiskey in plain sight on a shelf. Against the

consciousness of sixteen men that innocent-looking flask would tip the

scales to its own side with an emphasis; and the marshal not only knew

the proper dose for horses but also how to shove it down their throats

with practiced ease and swiftness. Buck Peters had paid him no mean

compliment when he had said that Tex could dose a horse more expertly

than any man he ever had known. Having put all of his weapons in order

he marked time, awaiting the pleasure of the enemy.

He did not have long to wait. To be specific he waited two days more,

which interval brought time around to the last day on the calendar for

that month, the day which railroad regulations proclaimed to be the

occasion for making out sundry and numerous reports, a job that kept

many a station agent writing and figuring most of the night. Having

sense and imagination, the agent at Windsor did what he could of this

work from day to day and as a consequence saved himself from a long,

high-tension job at the last minute; but he did not have imagination

enough to know that a packing-case of formidable dimensions which he had

received that noon from the west-bound train and later saw hauled to the

Mecca, held the watched-for gifts that Henry Williams would eagerly

present to Jane.

Contemptuous of any interference that Jerry might make in a physical

sense, Henry nevertheless preferred to have him absent when he made his

determined attempt. The brother doubtless would have great influence on

Jane by his protests, and that would necessitate drastic measures which

only would make the matter worse. If Jerry were detained by force,

injured, or killed to keep him from the house it would cause a great

deal of unpleasantness, from a domestic standpoint, to run through the

years to come. There was only one night a month when the agent remained

away from his house for any length of time, and this must be the night

for the action to be carried through.

The mob was being slowly, but surely, inflamed by the nephew and his two

friends, its anger directed against Murphy and Costigan since the

section-gang had not returned to town. The section-boss and his friend

came in every night while they worked along Buffalo Creek, and were

careful not to give any excuse for a hostile demonstration against them.

They were even less conspicuous because they walked in instead of

rolling home on the hand car. But on this last night of the month the

whole crew, rebelliously disobeying orders, came in on their crowded

hand car, much to Henry's poorly concealed delight, and to Tex's rage.

Murphy had promised otherwise.

Here was oil for the flames Henry had set burning! Here was success with

a capital letter! The mob now would surely attack, divert Jerry's

attention, and perhaps rid the town of its official nuisance. He would

act on the marshal's kindly warning, for he would not be in the front

rank of the mob; in fact, he would not be with the mob at all. He had

other work to do.

The sudden look of joyous expectation, so poorly disguised, on Henry's

face acted on Tex like the warning whirr of an angry rattlesnake and he

quietly cleaned and oiled his guns, broke out a fresh box of cartridges,

and dumped them into his right-hand pocket. The remaining

chloral-filled shells he slipped in the pocket of his chaps. Shaking up

the flask of whiskey to make certain of the crystals being dissolved and

the drug evenly distributed throughout the fluid, he hid it again and,

seating himself in his favorite place, awaited the opening number.

Darkness had just closed down when Tommy loped in from the ranch and

stopped to say a few careless, friendly words, but he never uttered

them, for the marshal's instructions were snapping forth before the C

Bar rider could open his mouth.

"This is no time for pleasantries!" said Tex in a voice low and tense.

"Turn around, ride back a way, circle around th' town an' leave yore

cayuse a couple of hundred yards from Murphy's box car. Tell him

trouble's brewin' an' to look sharp. Then you head for her house,

actin' as cautious, an' go up to it on foot, an' as secretly as you know

how. Lay low, outside. Don't show yourself at all--a man in th' dark

will be worth five in th' light tonight. Stay there no matter what you

hear in town. If she should see you, on yore life don't let her think

there's any danger--on yore life, Tommy! Mebby there ain't, but there's

no tellin' what drunken beast will remember that there's a woman close

at hand. You stay there till daylight, or till I relieve you.

Get-a-goin'--an' good luck!"

Tommy carried out his orders, gave Murphy the warning, and was gone

again before the big Irishman, seething with rage at his crew's

disobedience, could say more than a few words. Murphy had been forced

to construct a plan of his own, and he wished to get word of it to the

marshal's ears. Tommy having left so quickly, he could not send it.

Convincing himself that it was not really necessary for the marshal to

be told of it, and savagely pleased by the surprise in store for him and

every man in town, the section-boss went ahead on his own initiative.

Going to the toolshed he went in, frowning at the thoroughly cowed and

humbled crew, blew out the lamps and with hearty curses ordered the gang

to put their car on the rails and to start east for the next town.

"Roll her softly, by hand, till ye get out av th' hearin' av this

hell-town, an' then board her, an' put yore weight on th' handles," he

commanded. "An' don't ye come back till I send for ye. Costigan an' me

are plannin' work for ourselves an' will not go with ye. Lively,

now--an' no back talk. A lot depends on yer doin' as yer told. One

more order disobeyed an' I'll brain th' pack av ye with a crowbar.

Ye've raised h--l enough this night. Now git out av here, an' mind what

I've told ye!"

The orders quickly obeyed and the car quietly placed on the rails, the

gang went into the night as silently as bootless feet would take them,

pushing the well-greased car ahead of them, and as gently as though it

were loaded with nitro-glycerin. When far enough away not to be heard

by anyone in town, they put on their boots, climbed aboard, and sent

their conveyance along at an ordinary rate of speed. They hated to

desert their two countrymen, and began to talk about it. Finally they

made up their minds that Murphy's orders, in view of their recent

disobedience, were to be followed, and with hearty accord they sent the

car rolling on again, the greater part of the grades in their favor,

toward the next town. The distance was nothing to become excited about

with six husky men at the handles to pump off the miles.

Up at the station a single light burned in the little office where Jerry

worked at his reports. Outside the building in the darkness Murphy lay

on his stomach in a tuft of weeds, a rifle in his hand, and a Colt

beside him on the ground. Within easy reach of his right hand lay a

coatful of rocks culled from the road-bed, no mean weapons against

figures silhouetted by the lamp-lighted windows of the buildings facing

the right-of-way; and close to them were half a dozen dynamite

cartridges, their wicked black fuses capped and inserted. Tim Murphy,

like Napoleon, put his trust in heavy artillery.

Costigan was nowhere to be seen. Down the track lights shone under the

cracks of the doors of the toolshed and the box-car habitation of the

section-boss, and one curtained window of Costigan's rented cottage

glowed dully against the night. Crickets shrilled and locusts fiddled,

and there were no signs of impending danger.

In the hotel the tables were filled with lowly conversing miners in

groups, each man leaning far forward, elbows on the table, his shoulders

nearly touching those on either side. Gus Williams and his closest

friends had pulled two tables together and made a group larger than the

others. Henry and his two now inseparable companions were at a table

near the back door, talking earnestly with Jake, who by this time had

recovered from his recent sickness. The Buffalo Creek miner was quieter

and more thoughtful than he had been before Blascom had nearly killed

him, and his mind for several days had been the battle ground of a

fiercely fought struggle between contending emotions, which still raged,

but in a lesser intensity. He listened without comment to what was

being said to him, swayed first one way and then another. His last glass

of liquor was untasted, which was something of no moment to Henry's

whiskey-dulled mind. Finally Jake nodded, tossed off the drink with a

gesture of quick determination, hitched up his cartridge belt and,

forgetting his sombrero on the floor, arose and slipped quietly out of

the door. As he left, another man, peremptorily waved into the vacated

chair, also listened to instructions and also slipped out through the

rear door. He set his course toward the right-of-way, whereas Jake had

gone in the other direction, toward Carney's saloon and the marshal's

office.

The last man stopped when even with the line of shacks facing the

railroad, noted the dully glowing shade in Costigan's house, the yellow

strips of light around the rough board shutters of the box car, and the

broader yellow band under the toolshed door. Satisfied by his inspection

he slipped back the way he had come and made his report to Henry.

Jake crept with infinite caution toward the marshal's office, but when

nearly to it he paused as the battle in his mind raged with a sudden

burst of fury. The marshal had humbled him in sight of his friends and

acquaintances and had boasted of worse to follow if his victim forced

the issue; the marshal had saved his life in the little hut on the lower

fork, laboring all night with him. Doctor Horn had said so, and

Blascom, playing nurse at the marshal's request, had endorsed the

doctor.

Ahead of him, plain to his sight, was the marshal's side window, its

flimsy curtain tightly drawn; and silhouetted against it were the hatted

head and the shoulders of the man he had been sent to kill. Again he

crept forward, the Colt gripped tightly in his right hand. Foot by foot

he advanced, but stopping more frequently to argue with himself. A few

yards more and the mark could not be missed. He, himself, was safe from

any answering fire. A heavy curse rumbled in his throat and he stopped

again. He fought fair, as far as he knew the meaning of the term in its

generally accepted definition among men of his kind. He never had

knifed or shot a man from behind, and he was not going to do it now,

especially a man who had no reason to save his sotted life, but who had

done so without pausing. Jake arose, jammed the gun back into its

holster and walked briskly to the door of the flimsy little office,

which he found locked against him. He knocked and listened, but heard

nothing. Again he knocked and listened and still there was no answer.

"Marshal!" he called in a rasping, loud whisper. "Marshal! Git away

from that d--d window: th' next man won't be one that owes you for his

life. I'm goin' back to Buffaler Crick. Look out for yoreself!" and he

made good his words, striding off into the dark.

Back of the hotel, lying prone behind a pile of bleached and warped

lumber, the marshal watched the rear door. He saw Jake leave,

recognizing the man in the light of the opening door by certain

peculiarities of carriage and manner. He smiled grimly when the man

turned toward the north, and he waited for the sound of the shot which

would drill the window, the shade, and the old shirt hanging on the back

of a chair. He wondered if the rolled-up blanket, fastened to the

broken broom handle, which made the head and held Carney's old sombrero,

would fall with the impact. Then the door opened again and the second

man hurried out, turning to the south. He came back shortly, left the

door open behind him and with his return Henry's voice rang out in an

impassioned harangue. The hotel was coming to life. The stamp of heavy

boots grew more continuous; loud voices became louder and more numerous,

and shouts arose above the babel. The protesting voice of Gus Williams

was heard less and less, finally drowned completely in the vengeful

roar. Sudden noises in the street told of angry men pouring out of the

front door, simultaneously with the exodus through the rear door. Oaths,

curses, threats, and explosive bursts of laughter arose. One

leathern-lunged miner was drunkenly singing at the top of his voice, to

the air of _John Brown's Body_, a paraphrase worded to suit the present

situation.

The marshal leaped to his feet, secure against discovery in the

darkness, and sprinted on a parallel course for an opening between the

row of buildings facing the right-of-way. His sober-minded directness

and his lightness of foot let him easily outstrip the more aimless,

leisurely progress of the maudlin gang, which preferred to hold to a

common front instead of stringing out. Drunk as they were, they were

sober enough to realize, if only vaguely, that a two-gun sharpshooter by

all odds would be waiting for the advance guard. In fact, their

enthusiasm was largely imitation. Henry's mind had not been keen enough

to take into consideration such a thing as anticlimax; he had not

realized that the psychological moment had passed and that in the

interval of the several days, while the once white-hot iron of vengeful

purpose still was hot, it had cooled to a point where its heat was

hardly more than superficial. The once deadly purpose of the mob was

gone, thanks to Gus Williams' efforts, the ensuing arguments, and the

wholesome respect for the marshal's courage and the speed and accuracy

of his two guns. Instead of a destroying flood, contemptuous of all

else but the destruction of its victims, the mob had degenerated into a

body of devilish mischief-makers, terrible if aroused by the taste of

blood, but harmless and hesitant if the taste were denied it.

Tex, sensing something of this feeling, darted through the alleyway

between the two buildings he had in mind, dashed across the open space

paralleling the right-of-way, crossed the tracks, and slipped behind the

toolshed to be better hidden from sight. Its silence surprised him, but

one glance through a knot hole showed the lighted interior to be

innocent of inmates. He forthwith sprinted to the box car and a warped

crack in one of the barn-door shutters told him the same tale. A sudden

grin came to his face: Murphy had done what he could to offset the

return of his section-gang. He glanced at Costigan's house and its one

lighted curtain, and at that instant he remembered that he had not

noticed the gang's hand car in the toolshed. He brought the picture of

its interior to his mind again and grunted with satisfaction. Its

disappearance accounted for the disappearance of the gang.

The mob would now become a burlesque, having nothing upon which to act.

Chuckling over the fiasco, he trotted toward the station to see that

Jerry got away before the crowd discovered its impotence to commit

murder as planned, and to stay on the west side of the main street in

case the baffled units of the mob should head for Jerry's house. There

was no longer any shouting or noise. He knew that it meant that the

advance guard of rioters was cautiously scouting and approaching the

lighted buildings with due regard to its own safety; and he reached the

station platform before he saw the sudden flare of light on the ground

before the toolshed which told of its doors being yanked open. Figures

tumbled into the lighted patch and then milled for a moment before

hurrying off to join their fellows on the way to attack the other two

buildings.

"That you, Tex?" said a low voice close to him. "This is Murphy."

"Good!" exclaimed the marshal. "You've beat 'em, Tim. They're like

dogs chasin' their tails; an' from th' beginnin' they didn't sound very

business-like. But there's no tellin' what some of them may do, so you

go up an' join Costigan while I take a look around Jerry's house. Where

is he? His light's out."

"He went home when he heard th' yellin'," answered Murphy, "to git th'

lass out av th' house an' to Costigan in case th' mob started that way.

'Tis lucky for them they didn't, an' pass within throwin' distance av

me! 'Tis dynamite I'd 'a' fed 'em, with proper short fuses. Look out

ye don't push that lighted cigar too close to th' darlin's!"

Tex stepped back as though he had been stung. "I'm half sorry they

didn't give you a chance to use th' stuff," he growled. "Well, I reckon

mobs will be out of style in Windsor by mornin'. This ain't no

wolf-pack, runnin' bare-fanged to a kill, but a bunch of coyotes usin'

coyote caution. We'll let Costigan stay where he is, just th' same.

You better join him as soon as these fools go back to get drunker. Th'

woman in this makes us play dead safe. I'll head up that way an' look

things over. If I hear a blast I'll get back fast enough. Don't forget

to throw 'em quick after you touch 'em to that cigar!"

"I'll count five an' let 'em go," chuckled Murphy. "I got 'em figgered

close."

"Too close for me!" rejoined the marshal, moving off toward the

Saunders' home.

"I'd like to stick one in Henry's pocket," said the Irishman, growling.

"D--n me for a fool!" snapped Tex, leaping into the darkness.

*CHAPTER XXI*

*AN EQUAL GUILT*

Tommy Watkins, after delivering his message to Tim Murphy, hastened to

the Saunders' home, where he carried out his orders, with but one

exception; but the exception nullified all his efforts for a stealthy

approach and a secret watch. The best cover he could find around the

house was a little building near the back door in which firewood,

kerosene, and odds and ends were kept. Despite the kindling and the

darkness his entrance had been noiseless and he was paying himself

hearty compliments upon the exploit when his head collided with a basket

of clothespins which hung from a peg in the wall, and sent the basket

and its contents clattering down on the kerosene can and a tin pan. He

started back involuntarily and his spurred heels struck the side of a

washtub which was nearly full of water, kept so against drying out and

falling apart. Into this he sat with a promptness and abandon which

would have filled the heart of any healthy small boy with ecstasies.

Bounding out of the tub, he fell over the pile of kindling and from this

instant his rage spared nothing in his way. Had he deliberately started

out with the firm intention of arousing that part of Kansas he scarcely

could have made a better job of it. While he cursed like a drunken

sailor, and burned with rage and shame, the door was suddenly flung open

and Jane, lamp in hand, stared at him in fright and determination, over

the trembling muzzle of a short-barreled .38.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, the hand holding the gun now pressing against her

breast. "Oh!" she repeated, and the lamp wobbled so that she

tremblingly blew it out. For some moments she struggled to get back to

normal, Tommy thankful that the lamp no longer revealed him in his

present water-soaked condition. He felt that his flaming face would

give light enough without any further aid.

He sidled out of the door, tongue-tied, crestfallen, miserable, and

placed his back against the shed, intending to slip along it, and dash

around the corner into the kindly oblivion of the black night.

"Wait!" she begged, sensing his intention. "Oh, my; how you frightened

me! Whatever made you get into this shed, anyway? What were you trying

to do?"

Here it was, right in his teeth. Tex fairly had hammered into him the

warning not to frighten her--on his life he was to keep from her any

thought of danger if she should see him. She had seen him, all right.

She had seen entirely too much of him--and he was not to frighten her!

Holy Moses! He was not to frighten her! He resolved that plenty of

time should elapse before he allowed Tex Jones to see him. Not to

frighten her--it was a wonder she had not died of fright.

"What on earth ever made you go in there?" she demanded, a little

acerbity in her voice.

"Why, ma'am, I was hidin' from you," said the culprit. "Let me light

th' lamp, ma'am, an' straighten things out in there. Everythin' slid

that wasn't nailed fast. That tub, now: was you savin' th' water for

anythin', ma'am? If you was I plumb spoiled it."

"No; it was only to keep the staves swelled tight--for heaven's sake, do

you mean that you fell in it?" She reached out and grasped his coat,

and suddenly collapsed against the building, shrieking with laughter.

When she could speak she ordered him to feel for and pick up the lamp,

and to lead the way into the house. "Go right into Jerry's room and

change your clothes--I hope you can get his things on. But whatever

made you go in there, anyway? What was it?"

"Like I done said, ma'am," he reiterated, flushing in the dark. "I was

goin' to play a joke on Jerry when he came home--but I didn't aim to do

no damage, ma'am, or scare you!" he earnestly assured her.

"Oh, but you were willing to scare Jerry!" she retorted.

"I don't reckon he'd 'a' been scared," he mumbled. "Here's th' lamp,

ma'am, on th' step; I'll see Jerry at th' station. I'm fadin', now,"

and before she could utter a protest he had put down the lamp and

disappeared around the house. But he did not go far. Wet clothes meant

nothing to him, nothing at all in his present state of mind, and he

intended to stay, and to keep his watch faithfully. And it was to his

present flurried state of mind that he owed his more serious

misadventure of the night, for he blundered around the second corner

squarely into two figures hugging the wall and a descending gun butt

filled his mental firmament with stars. He sagged to the ground without

even a sigh and was quickly disarmed and bound. A soiled handkerchief

was forced into his mouth and he was rolled against the wall, where he

would be out of the way.

One of the two hirelings nudged the other as they stood up, putting his

mouth close to his companions ear. "Hey, Ike!" he whispered. "This

fool is wet as a drownded pup--wears a gun an' cowpunch clothes. He

ain't the agent!"

"H--l, no!" responded Ike; "but he meant us no good, bein' here. We'll

git th' agent, too. He'll be comin' soon, an' fast. Git over by th'

path he uses."

Jane, somewhat vexed, had picked up the lamp and entered the house. The

constantly repeated "ma'am" and the stammering explanations, which she

put but little stock in, made her suddenly contrast this big, overgrown

boy with a man she knew, and to Tommy's vast discredit. She had hit it:

one was no more than an overgrown boy, coarse, unlearned, clumsy,

embarrassed; the other, a grown man, cool, educated, masterful,

unabashed. One was in his own way; the other, unobtrusive in manner but

persistently haunting in his personality. She might not be able for

good reasons to see Tex Jones in a room filled with people, but she

could not fail to sense his presence. But the marshal was no longer to

be thought of; he had taken a human life and was forever beyond the pale

of her interest and affections. He had blood on his hands.

Suddenly she started and cast an apprehensive glance toward the window

which faced the town. A low, chaotic roaring, indistinct in its blurred

entirety, but fear impelling because of its timbre, came from the main

street. A shot or two sounded flatly and the roaring rose and fell in

queer, spasmodic bursts. Before she could move, a knock sounded on the

door and, fearing bad news about her brother, she took a tight grip on

herself and walked swiftly toward the summons, flinging the door wide

open.

Henry Williams, a smirk on his face, bowed and entered, not waiting for

an invitation. He forgot to remove his hat in his eagerness to place

his packages on the table where she plainly could see them. Selecting

the easiest chair, he seated himself on the edge of it, and tossed his

sombrero against the wall.

"Nice evenin', ma'am," he said, flushing a little. "I was hopin' for

more rain but don't reckon we'll git none for a spell. What we had has

helped wonderful. You an' Jerry feelin' well?"

"It doesn't feel like rain, Mr. Williams," she replied, torn between

fear and mirth at the presence of this unwelcome visitor. "Both my

brother and myself are as well as we can expect to be. If you'll go to

the station you'll find him there--this is report night and he may not

be home until quite late."

"I ain't waitin' for Jerry," explained Henry, leering. "It's just as

well if he is a little late. My call is shore personal, ma'am; personal

between me an' you."

She was staring at him through eyes which were beginning to sparkle with

vexation. She was now beginning to accept her first, intuitive warning.

"I am not aware that there is anything of a personal nature which

concerns us both," she rejoined. "I believe you must be mistaken, Mr.

Williams. If you will close the door behind you on your way out I will

be duly grateful. Jerry is at the station." She stepped back to let

him pass, but he ignored the hints.

There came an increase in the roaring from the direction of town and she

started, casting an inquiring and appealing glance at her visitor.

"Th' boys are a little wild tonight," he said, smiling evilly. "They've

got so much dust that they're bustin' loose to paint th' old town

proper. There ain't nothin' to be scared about."

"But Jerry: my brother!" she exclaimed fearfully. "He's alone in the

office!"

"No, he ain't ma'am," replied Henry with an air meant to reassure her.

"I got four good boys, deputized by th' marshal, watchin' th' station in

case some fool gets notions. Jones, hisself, is settin' on a bench

outside, an' you know what _that_ means. I allus look after my friends,

ma'am." He smiled again. "'Specially them that are goin' to be real

close to me. That's why I'm here--to look after you now--now, an' all

th' time, now an' forever. Just see what I brought you--sent all th'

way to St. Louie for 'em, an' shore got th' very best there was. Why,"

he chuckled, going to the table, and so engrossed in his packages that

he did not see the look of revulsion on her face, a look rapidly turning

to a burning shame and anger.

"These here gloves, now--they cost me six dollars. An' lookit this

Cashmere shawl--you'd think I was lyin' if I told you what that cost. I

told th' boys you'd show 'em off handsome an' proper. Put 'em on and

let's see how they look on you." He held the gifts out, looking up at

her, surprised by her silence, her lack of pleased exclamations, and

paused, dumbfounded at her expression.

Mortification yielded place to shame and fear; shame and fear to anger

with only a trace of fear, and then rage swept all else before it. The

colors playing in her cheeks fled and left them white, her lips were

thin as knife blades and her eyes blazed like crucibles of molten metal.

She struck wildly at the presents, sending them across the room and

raised her hand to strike him. Never in all her life had she been so

furious.

"Why--what's th' matter?" he asked, not believing his senses. He put

out a hand to pacify her. It touched her arm and turned her into a

fury, her nails scoring it deeply as she struck it away.

"What's th' matter with you?" he demanded angrily, looking up from his

bleeding hand. "Oh!" he sneered, his face working with anger. "That's

it, huh? All right, d--n you! I'll cussed soon show you who's boss!"

he gritted, moving slowly forward. "If you won't come willin'ly, you'll

come unwillin'ly! Puttin' on airs like you was too good for me, huh?

I'll bust yore spirit like you was a hoss!"

She flung a quivering arm toward the door, but he pressed forward and

backed her into a corner, from where she struck at him again and again,

and then felt his arms about her as he wrestled with her. Her strength

amazed him and he broke loose to get a more punishing hold. "Ike!" he

shouted. "George! Hurry up: she's worse'n a wildcat!"

Ike's head popped in through a window, George dashing through the door,

and with them at his side Henry leaped for her. She clutched at her

breast and crouched, as savage and desperate as any animal of the wild.

He shouted something as he closed with her and then there came a muffled

roar, a flash, and a cloud of smoke spurted from between them. Henry,

his glazing eyes fixing their look of fear, amazement, and chagrin, spun

around against his companions, his clutching hands dragging down their

arms, and slid between them. For him the mob had been incited in vain.

His two friends, stupefied for an instant, gazed unbelievingly from Jane

to Henry and back again, vaguely noticing that her horror and revulsion

were unnerving her and that the short-barreled Colt in her hand was

wobbling in ever-widening circles. Ike recovered his self-possession

first and, reaching out swiftly, knocked the wavering weapon from her

hand. Shouting savagely he leaped for her as a streak of flame stabbed

in through the window he had entered by, the deafening roar filling the

room. He stiffened convulsively, whirled halfway around and pitched

headlong under the table, dead before he touched the floor. His

companion's arms jerked upward with spasmodic speed.

"Keep 'em there! Sit down, Miss Saunders," came an even, unflurried

voice from the window as the marshal, hatless and coatless, hoping that

George would draw, crawled into the house behind a steady gun. "Good

Lord!" he muttered, glancing over the room, his eyes passing the fallen

.38 without betraying any recognition. "Steady!" he cried as Jane's

knees buckled and she slid down the wall. "Keep 'em up!" he snarled at

George as he swiftly disarmed him. "Face th' door!" As the frightened

man obeyed, the marshal stepped quickly to a shelf on which stood a

bottle of brandy and some glasses. He changed the gun to his left hand,

snatched a cartridge from his chaps' pocket and, yanking out the lead

with his teeth, emptied the shell into a glass. Quickly filling this

and another he wheeled and thrust one out at the rigid prisoner. "Drink

this," he ordered. "You shore need it; an' if you don't I'll blow you

apart." George's stare of amazed incredulity changed to one of hope and

relief and he downed the drink at a gulp. Tex slipped a pair of

handcuffs over his wrists and ordered him to sit down. "Sit down in

that big chair, an' close yore eyes. I got somethin' for you to

do--relax!"

As he bent over Jane she stirred, opened her eyes, glanced at him, and

then fixed them on the men on the floor, shuddering and shrinking from

the sight; but she could not look away. "I killed him! I killed him!"

she sobbed hysterically, over and over again.

"Drink this," ordered the marshal, forcing the glass between her lips.

He nodded with quiet satisfaction. "Shore," he replied in an assumed

matter-of-fact voice, as though it were an everyday occurrence. "Good

job, too. I should have done it, myself, days ago." He held up the

glass again. "Can you drink a little more of this, Miss Saunders?

There are times when a little brandy is very useful." His low, even,

unemotional tones were almost caressing, and she thankfully put herself

in his capable hands. Slowly growing calmer she began to see things

with a less blurred vision and the slow slumping of the sleepy man in

the chair took her wondering attention.

"Why, is he--killed--too?" she asked shuddering.

"Oh, no; he's only half asleep," replied Tex, smiling. "Three more

minutes an' he'll be sound asleep, for a dozen hours or more. Brandy

has an hypnotic effect on some people, Miss Saunders, while it

stimulates others. Will you please collect a small valise of your most

valuable and indispensable possessions, all the money in the house, a

good wrap of some kind, and allow me to escort you to Murphy and

Costigan? You are leaving town, you know, never to return."

"But I've killed a man, and you are an officer of the law! Do you

mean--" she paused unbelievingly.

"You shot a mad skunk in plain self-defense," he replied. "He has

powerful friends and influence to avenge him. The jury would be packed

and justice scorned. I'm marshal no longer, Miss Saunders. I accepted

the appointment on the definite understanding that I would be marshal

only as long as I could. The term has automatically come to an end. So

far as this town is concerned I'm a rabid outlaw." He tore the badge

from his vest and threw it on the table. "Ah! George is sleeping more

soundly than he ever slept before. There's no need of gagging him, for

he'll give no alarm. Please fill that satchel, Miss Saunders--time

presses."

"You are a good friend, Mr. Jones; and I have wronged you," she said,

her words barely audible. "My hands are as bloody as yours--and I

scorned you for taking life! Take me away from here--please--please!"

"As fast as I can," replied Tex, soothingly. "You help me by filling a

satchel and getting your wrap. Put your mind on your possessions,

please; think what you wish to take with you, and then get them. Money?

Jewels? Miscellaneous valuables, intrinsic or sentimental? Documents?

Apparel? Please--you must aid me all you can if I'm to aid you. We

have no time to lose!"

"But my brother--he is safe?"

"Waiting outside, tied, and gagged. I couldn't stop to free him," Tex

answered. "Watkins, likewise. They laid their plans well, but the mob

was a misfire and didn't keep me as busy as they counted on. Will you

obey me, Miss Saunders, or must we leave bare-handed? I'll give you

just three minutes by that clock--then we go."

A pious, shocked exclamation came from the window where Murphy stared

suddenly into a magic gun before he was recognized. "Holy Mother!" he

whispered, and then: "I found Tommy--where is Jerry?"

"Don't you ever do that again!" snapped Tex, a little white showing in

his face. "I don't know how I kept th' hammer up! You look around by

that clump of scrub oak, where the path goes around the big bowlder. I

nearly fell over him. Take them both with you--we'll follow close. Any

signs of anyone coming from town?"

"Not yet--but ye needn't stay here all night! Hurry, miss, or there'll

be a slaughter that'll shake this country!"

As Jane obeyed, Tex walked over, drew up one of George's eyelids and

smiled grimly. Then he placed a hand on each of the figures on the

floor and nodded, a sneer flickering over his face. In a moment Jane,

still a little unsteady, returned and found the ex-marshal pinning the

nickeled badge on the lapel of Henry's coat, and while it meant nothing

to her then in her agitated state of mind its significance came to her

later. When that badge was found she would be freed of blame for

Henry's death. Opening the door Tex blew out the light and led the way.

They hurried over the uneven, hard ground and soon reached the railroad,

where a hand car, with Murphy, Costigan, and Tommy at the handles,

waited to run them over a trail where no tracks would tell any tales.

"Head for Scrub Oak, an' stop outside th' town till Jerry's party gets

away," ordered Tex. "Th' grades are mostly against you an' all of you

came from th' east, where Mike's family went. They'll figger you went

th' same way, if they think of th' hand car at all. It ain't likely

they will, because I'm aimin' to give them something plain to read, when

they're _able_ to read it. Got money? Got enough to buy three good

cayuses with saddles, grub, an' everythin' you need? Good! Tommy, when

you get to town, go in alone, get three outfits, an' take Miss Saunders

an' Jerry to Gunsight as fast as they can travel. When you get there,

ask for Nelson, an' tell him Tex Ewalt says to hold off h--l an' high

water before givin' up these two. I'll join you there as soon as I can.

Here, listen close," and he gave a description of Gunsight's location

sufficient for a rider of the plains. "Off with you, now--let her roll

gently near Buffalo Crick--she'll rumble deep crossin' that bridge an'

Jake may be at home. So-long--get a-goin'!"

"But you?" cried Jane. "Where are you going? Surely not back into that

town!" The distress and anxiety brought a smile to the ex-marshal's

lips. "You must come with us! You must! You must!" she insisted

almost hysterically. "You can't fight the whole town!"

"I'm bettin' he can," growled Murphy. "Here, Tex! Better take a couple

av these little firecrackers! Count five an' let 'em go; but _you_

better count sorta fast."

"No, thanks, Tim," laughed Tex. "I can't go with you, Miss Saunders.

I've got a pack of coyotes to make fools of--see you at th' SV in four

or five days. Don't you worry--it was clean self-defense. He brought

it on himself. All right, Tim: get a-goin'!"

He listened to the sounds of the cautiously propelled car, the clicks of

the rail joints growing softer and softer. When they had died out, he

walked swiftly back to the house, where he got his hat and coat and then

went on to town. Going to where the roan patiently waited for him he

led it to John Graves' stable and reconnoitered the building. John was

not at home on this night of excitement.

Tex forced the door, and quietly saddled the sorrel and the gray, threw

a sack of corn across the latter and, leading them forth, led the three

animals back of a deserted building and then went toward the hotel.

*CHAPTER XXII*

*THE FALSE TRAIL AND THE TRUE*

The maudlin crowd was ugly and did not accept the marshal's appearance

with any enthusiasm. While he had not opposed them he had warned and

sent away their hoped-for victims. Frank scowls met him wherever he

looked. He stopped at the table where Gus Williams and a dozen cronies,

the bolder men of the town, were drinking and arguing.

"Blascom's cussed sick," he announced. "Sick as a dog. I rode out to

spend th' night with him, knowin' that when that coyote section-boss

sent his pack out of town there wouldn't be no reason for me to stay

here an' make myself unpopular. I got a good job in this town, an' I've

got a right to have friends here. Anyhow, I told Murphy that if his men

came back they'd have to do their own fightin'. Reckon that's why he

sent 'em along. Him an' Costigan follered 'em on th' other hand car."

He glanced over the room. "Where's Hennery?" he asked. "I heard he

wanted to see me."

Williams roused himself and looked up through bloodshot eyes. "Th'

fool's gone courtin', I reckon; an' on a night like this, when I needed

him. Don't know when he'll git back. He mus' be enjoyin' hisself,

anyhow."

John Graves chuckled and endorsed the sentiment.

Tex nodded. "I reckon mebby he is, his star bein' bright tonight. Much

excitement in town after I left? Station agent make any trouble?"

"A lot of chances he'd 'a' had to make any of us any trouble," sneered a

miner. "I reckon he cut an' run right quick. We've been figgerin' he's

better off in some other town. Been thinkin' of chasin' him out. Any

objections from th' marshal of Windsor?"

"Not a cussed one," answered Tex. "He's a trouble-maker, stayin' here.

Chuck him on th' train tomorrow an' send him back East, where he come

from. An' his sister, too, if you want."

Williams shook his head. "Not her," he said. "Henry'll never let her

git away from him. He's aimin' to take care of her; an' he shore can

handle her, _he_ can."

"I reckon he can," agreed Tex. "I just come in to get th' doc to go out

an' look at Blascom. Since he's struck it rich he's been feedin' like a

fool. Them as live by canned grub, dies by canned grub, says I; an'

he's close to doin' it. I got a bottle of whiskey for him, but I reckon

gin will be better for his stummick. Yes, a lot better. Hey, Baldy!"

he shouted. "Put me out a bottle of gin an' set up th' drinks for all

hands. We'll drink to a better understandin' an' to Hennery an' his

bride." He pulled the pint flask from his pocket and winked at his

companions. "I got a little somethin' extra, here. Th' smoke of Scotch

fires is in it. Might as well use it up," and he quickly filled the

glasses on the table, discovering when too late that he had none left

for himself. "Oh, well; whiskey is whiskey, to me. I'll take some of

Baldy's with th' boys," and he swaggered over to the bar, tossing a gold

piece on the counter.

"Where's yore badge, Marshal?" asked Baldy, curiously.

Tex quickly felt of his coat lapel and then of his vest. "Cuss it!" he

growled. "I knowed I'd lose that star--th' pin was a little short to go

far enough in th' socket. Oh, well," he laughed, holding up his glass,

"everyone knows me now; an' they'll know me better as time goes on.

Here's to Hennery!" he shouted. "Drink her standin'!"

The toast drunk to roaring jests, he took the gin and went back to

Williams. "Goin' after th' doc," he remarked. "Lost my badge, too; but

lemme say that anybody found wearin' it shore will have bad luck. See

you all tomorrow. He's sick as a pup, Blascom is. Good night, an'

sleep tight, as th' sayin' is!" he shouted laughingly and nodding at the

crowd he wheeled and went out. Once secure from observation of any

curious inhabitants of the town, he ran to the horses, mounted, and rode

up to the Saunders' house, a home no longer. Entering it he quickly

collected a bag of provisions and then, milling the horses before the

door to start a plain trail, he cantered toward the station, where he

crossed the tracks and struck south for the old cattle trail.

All night he rode hard, sitting the sorrel to keep his own horse fresh,

and at dawn, giving them a ration of corn each, he ate a cold and

hurried breakfast and soon was on his way again. During the forenoon he

let the sorrel go, riding the gray with the depleted corn sack tied to

the pommel. Several hours later he threw the still further depleted

sack on the roan, changed horses again and turned the gray loose. After

nightfall he came within sight of the lights of a small town and,

waiting until the hour was quite late, rode through it casually to lose

the tracks of his horse among the countless prints on its streets. He

left it along a well-traveled trail leading westward, one which would

take him, eventually, to Rawlins.

In the town of Gunsight, Dave Green was polishing glasses behind his bar

when a dusty, but smiling, stranger rode up to the door and called out.

Grumbling, Dave waddled forth to answer the summons.

"Which way to th' SV?" asked the stranger. "I'm lookin' for my friend

Nelson."

"What is it--a house-raisin' or a christenin'?" asked Dave, grinning

broadly. "Th' SV's gettin right pop'lar these days--as it ought to be."

Dave cogitated a moment. This man said Nelson was a friend of his; but

if not, there would be no harm done to anyone on the SV. Dave was quite

certain of that, with Hopalong, Red, and the outfit at Johnny's back.

Still, his curiosity was aroused. "Yore name Jones, or Ewalt?" he

asked.

"Ewalt," replied Tex, grinning.

Dave left the door and gravely held out his hand. "Heard tell about you,

long ago," he said. "We're good friends till you horn into a poker game

that I'm settin' in. Heard about you this mornin', too. A tenderfoot,

a cowpunch, an' a reg'lar picture in skirts stopped an' asked me what

you did. Also wanted to know if I had seen Jones or Ewalt. You just

foller that Juniper trail," and he gave a description tiresome, and

needlessly detailed, to a man to whom compass points would have

sufficed. "Jones comin', too? Don't know I ever heard of him."

"Jones is dead," said Tex with touching sorrow. "Th' pore ol' soul,

we'll never see him more. He had buttons runnin' up his back, an'

buttons down before."

"Too bad," replied Dave, but he was suspicious of the other's grief. He

shook his head. "Life shore is uncertain. You tell Johnny if he's

havin' a party that I ain't too fat to ride that far, not if I'm

invited. I ain't much on dancin', but I'll do my best."

Tex nodded, thanked him for his information and went on, gradually

becoming lost in introspective musings.

"Omar," he muttered, shaking his head sadly, "I ain't got no right. I'm

hard-boiled, an' I've reached purty low levels th' last twenty years.

There ain't no human meanness, no human weaknesses, hardly, that I ain't

seen. My view of life is so cynical that it near scares me, now. I

lost my illusions years ago, an' I'm allus lookin' for th' basest

motives for a man's actions. Besides, I'm forty-odd years old--an'

that's _too_ old.

"Now you take Tommy Watkins. He's fresh, young, chock-a-block with

illusions; trustin', ambitious, steady. He's clean, body an' mind. When

he grows up, ten years from now, he'll be a purty fair sort of a young

man. It shore does beat all, Omar."

A little farther along he drew a deep breath and patted the roan.

"Omar, I've made up my mind: Youth should be for youth; illusions, for

illusions; freshness, for freshness; innocence, for innocence. Her

purity deserves better than my mildewed soul--if a man's got one."

After a moment's silence he patted the horse again. "Omar, yore name

brings somethin' back to me:

_Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire_

_To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,_

_Would not we shatter it to bits--and then_

_Remould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!_

Raising his head he saw a rattlesnake sunning itself on a rocky patch of

ground near the trail and his gun leaped into crashing life. The snake

writhed, trying in vain to coil. A second shot stretched it lifeless.

"There, d--n you!" shouted Tex, shaking his fist at the quivering body,

"that's how I feel!" and, the burst of passion gone as quickly as it had

come, he shook his head and rode on again, calm and determined. At last

he came to the top of the last hill hiding the ranchhouse and drew rein

as he looked down into the north branch of the SV valley. A boy was

riding along the bottom of the slope and Tex hailed him.

"Hey, sonny!" shouted the ex-marshal. "I'm lookin' for Hopalong

Cassidy. Know where he is?"

"He's at th' house!" replied the boy. "Yo're Tex Ewalt! Foller me, an'

I'll beat you to him!"

"Bet yo're Charley!" responded Tex. "Yo're shore goin' to ride some,

cowboy, if you aim to beat me!" and a race was on.

There came a flurry of movement at the ranchhouse door and three men ran

to their saddled horses. A sudden cloud of dust rolled up and the

three, bunched leg to leg, raced toward the galloping newcomer.

Heedless of Charley's vexatious appeal they shot past him and kept on

while he swung his pony around and saw them sweep up to the slowing roan

and surround him and his rider. More soberly, after a hilarious welcome,

the four, with Charley endeavoring to wedge into shifting openings not

half large enough for his pony, they rode up to the ranchhouse, where

Jerry had run out to meet them, Margaret Nelson at his heels. As soon

as he could Tex asked for Jane and learned that she was resting.

"She has been under a very heavy strain, Mr. Ewalt," Margaret told him.

"She asked that you see her as soon as you came; but she is sleeping,

now, and it will be better for her if you wait. Her remorse is as great

as her horror and fatigue."

"I suppose so," replied Tex. "That's the woman of it. She shot a beast

in plain self-defense and now she's remorseful. Shucks--it's all my

fault. I should have done it, myself, days before."

"I didn't say just what I think is causing her remorse," replied

Margaret, smiling enigmatically; "but that is something a man should

find out for himself," and, turning quickly, she entered the house.

Tex stared after her and then around the circle of happy, grinning

faces. An answering smile crept to his own, a smile wistful, but shaded

with pain.

The next few days were busy ones from a conversational standpoint, for

there was a great deal to talk about. Tex learned the history of the

SV's rejuvenation, and his friends eagerly listened to the news he

brought from Montana, and to the messages he brought from their friends;

while Jane, much better because of the rest she had had, sat by the

cheerful group, smiling at the perfect accord between its units and

rapidly changing her ideas of western men. Here she saw friendships

which seemed to be founded on the eternal rock, unshakable,

unquestioning. She found it almost impossible to believe that these

thin-lipped, yet kindly and smiling men, whose trick of looking out

through narrowed lids at first made her wonder, each had killed again

and again, as Margaret had told her. To her they were gravely kind,

courteous, and deferential, accepting her without question, their manner

a soothing assurance as to her safety. Jerry and Tommy were

unquestionably accepted and made part of the happy circle--they were

friends of Tex Ewalt, whom she now knew by his right name. Johnny's

boyish enthusiasm and mischievous smile made it hard for her to believe

that he, single-handed, had overcome the odds against him and cleared

this range of its undesirable inhabitants. Margaret's proud account of

his deeds rang true, and Jane knew that they were true.

There they all sat on the front porch, telling anecdotes on each other

which amazed Jane, speaking of remarkable exploits in matter-of-fact

voices. She learned of Tex's part in the saving of Buck Peter's ranch,

and gradually pieced together the story of his activities in Windsor.

Prodded by Tex, at last Johnny and Hopalong gave a grudging exhibition

of revolver shooting which made her catch her breath. Tex Ewalt had

been right: these two cheerful men could ride into Windsor and wipe it

from the map; and she no longer feared the appearance of any of

Williams' friends. If they could find and follow the trail, let them!

Tex was the quietest man in the party, and she was pleased because he

spoke only in the vernacular. She had not heard him deviate from it for

one instant. He had no wish to "show off" at the expense of his roughly

speaking friends. Tommy's garrulity, considering how little he really

had to say, sounded like the prattle of a child among grown-ups; but he

was a good, well-meaning boy. Daily he spoke of getting work on the

Double X, where Lin Sherwood could use another rider; but he had made no

attempt to go, preferring to stay where she was and to follow her about

at every opportunity.

Then came the afternoon when Johnny volunteered to show his guests about

the ranch and they had set out, Tex remaining behind. Jane had felt a

restraint at the thought of how close she and the ex-marshal would be

thrown together on this ranch, but soon found it to be groundless.

Deferential, reserved, friendly, he had not obtruded, and apparently had

not noticed Tommy's attentions. They rode off, Jerry with their host,

Tommy at the side of Jane. When down in the main valley Johnny had

turned off to look at the fenced-in quicksands, Jerry going with him to

see the now harmless death trap, and Tommy remained behind with her; and

when they returned they found a flushed Jane and a despondent Tommy.

The following morning when she sat down to a late breakfast with Mr.

Arnold, Johnny's father-in-law, she learned quite casually that Tommy

had gone to the Double X and that the rest of the men, her brother

included, had ridden up to the north wire to make some repairs. Arnold

explained about the difficulty of keeping the posts up along the bottom

of the ravine where he had suffered his broken leg, and he told her of

the fondness of the cattle for the wilderness of brush and of the

difficult task of running a round-up on that part of the ranch.

"Let me throw a saddle on yore horse, Miss Saunders," he suggested. "It

will make a pleasant ride for you; an' you can take 'em up some lunch if

you like. They've got a bigger task than they think, for th' ravine

floor is solid rock. I'll send Charley with you--he's on th' rampage

because he overslept and I wouldn't let him go up and bother them. But

he might as well go."

She thought for a moment, and then turned a grave and pitiful face to

him.

"I feel that I can ask you anything, Mr. Arnold; and I'm so upset."

"You certainly can, Miss Saunders," he replied, abandoning the

vernacular in response to her way of speaking.

She hurriedly told him of the killing of Henry Williams, of the blood on

her hands, but avoided the real appeal, the question she must find her

own answer to. He heard her through, and, arising, placed a fatherly

hand on her shoulder.

"Jane," he said, slowly shaking his head. "Environment, circumstances,

change all things. There's not a man on this ranch that doesn't feel

proud of what he knows about you. A woman has as much right, and often

a greater need, to defend herself, as a man has. Don't you worry about

that beast; and don't you worry about anyone coming down here after you.

We can muster forty fighting men, if we need them, purely on Johnny's

say-so. We're all proud of you. Now I'll saddle your horse while Peggy

puts up the lunch. You and Charley can easily carry it between you.

There's no place down here where you can't safely go; but please keep in

the saddle while you're on the range. These cattle are dangerous to

anyone afoot."

While the simple preparations were being made she heard Charley's

exultant whoops and soon she rode with him toward the upper end of the

small valley, listening to his worshiping chatter about his heroes. Now

he had a new one, the man who could pull poker hands out of a fellow's

nose, eyes, and ears.

"He'd 'a' got that Hennery feller, too," he averred, "only you beat him

out. Gee, Miss Saunders! Wish I'd 'a' been there! I ain't never shot

nobody yet--but you just wait, that's all! I heard Tex say he'd 'a'

shot up th' whole d--d town if they'd tried to bother you--an' Hoppy

said he could 'a' done it, _easy_! Hoppy knows, too. Why don't you

like Tex, Miss Saunders? I think he's aces-up!"

"Why, I do, Charley. Whatever made you ask me that?"

"Well, if you do, Tex don't think so," he grumbled. "You know that pile

of rock, up on th' hill where th' Gunsight trail winds like a letter S?"

She nodded. She could see it plainly from her window.

"Well, I was layin' up there, keepin' watch for that Williams' gang, an'

he never even reckoned anybody was near him!" he boasted. "Takes a good

man to find me when I don't want him to, I tell you. Injuns can't, an'

they're cussed cute, Hoppy says."

"Who was it who didn't see you?"

"Tex," chuckled the boy. "He come walkin' along like there wasn't

nobody around, an' he sorta slammed hisself down on th' rock next to th'

top one. You an' Tommy an' Jerry was ridin' back from th' main valley.

We could just see you, me an' him, only he didn't know _I_ was there.

After awhile we could see plain. Jerry rode off to look at somethin',

an kinda fell back, leavin' you an' Tommy goin' on without him. I was

watchin' Tex, because he had a funny look on his face. He just looked

steady, an' when he saw you two ridin' along together, he threw out his

arms an' said somethin' about bein' like Jerry. Somethin' about falling

back an' seein' you an' Tommy ridin' through life together--as if

anybody would ride as long as that! Tell you what: These grown-ups say

some cussed foolish things. There was tears in his eyes--him, a

grown-up, gun-fightin' son-of-a-gun! Huh! An' they used to tease me

when _I_ cried! What you think about that?" He looked eagerly at her

for the answer and then snorted in frank disgust. "Cuss it--an' yo're

snifflin', too! I'll be a son-of-a-gun!"

"You mustn't tell anyone about it, Charley!" she pleaded. "They won't

understand!"

"I won't," he promised. "Don't blame you for bein' ashamed. Tex would

'a' been, too, if he knowed I saw him. Then mebby he wouldn't go up

there every night an' watch yore window till the light goes out, an' I

wouldn't have nobody to trail. Reckon he's scared that Williams gang

will trail you down here? Huh! With him settin' up there, me roamin'

loose, an' with Johnny, Hoppy, an' Red in th' house, I shore wish they

would come a-pokin' their noses around here! I tell you, things'd shore

pop. If Tex could clean out their whole town all alone, they'd shore

have a pleasant time down here ag'in' him an' his friends! Gee!"

After supper the nightly gathering on the porch passed a pleasant hour

or two and then dwindled as its members retired, the two women and

Charley going first. Jerry followed soon afterward and not much later

Red and Hopalong left to go to the bunkhouse, where they now were

berthed. Arnold soon went into the house, to the room which Tex

stubbornly had refused to occupy, the latter preferring the bunkhouse

with his old friends. After a cigarette or two Johnny said good night

and left his companion alone. Tex arose, paced restlessly to and fro

across the yard and, wheeling abruptly, went toward the corral. He had

not been gone very long when Charley, noiselessly crawling out of the

window of the room he shared with his father, froze in his tracks as he

heard a noise beyond the summer kitchen. He had Red's Winchester, which

he had taken from the gun rack in the dining-room, and he scouted

cautiously toward the suspicious sounds. The moonlight let him see

plainly, and he drew back behind the corner of the building as Jane rode

away, leaving the light burning brightly in her room.

Charley frankly was puzzled. "Somethin's goin' on," he cogitated. "I

was goin' to stalk Tex--now I dunno. Shucks! He can look out for

hisself, but she might get lost. Reckon I'll foller her." He suited

action to the words and soon was riding after her, keeping out of her

sight with a woodcraft worthy of his elders.

She led him along the Gunsight trail, closer and closer to the S it made

up the rocky hill, and because of the view commanded by the rocky pile

on the summit, he had to dismount, picket his horse, and proceed on

foot, working from cover to cover, often on hands and knees.

Tex had taken his time, buried in thought, oblivious to everything

outside of himself. He followed the well-marked trail instinctively and

soon reached the top of the hill, where he sat quietly in the saddle for

a few minutes. Finally, shaking his head, he dismounted and listlessly

walked to the place of his nightly vigil. Seating himself on the

top-most bowlder he gazed steadily at the yellow light of the distant

window and, like many men of his class, given to solitude, he argued his

problem aloud. It seemed that often he could think more clearly that

way.

This could not go on. Tomorrow he would start back to Montana, and he

soon arose to return to the SV, to spend his last night there. As he

went back to his horse another verse came to his mind, a verse of

finality, and one fitting the present situation. He laughed bitterly

and flung out his arms:

_And when like her, O Saki, you shall pass_

_Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,_

_And in your blissful errand reach the spot_

_Where I made One--turn down an empty Glass!_

Suddenly he stiffened, his hands leaping instinctively to his guns.

Then he let them fall to his sides and stared unbelievingly: "Miss

Saunders!" he exclaimed in amazement. "Why--what are you--?" and

ceased, tongue-tied.

"You are--going away?" she asked, her voice breaking, speaking so low he

barely could hear her words.

"Tomorrow."

She hung her head for a moment and then turned a wistful, anxious face

up to him. "I--I heard what you have been saying. O Tex--I--I am going

with you!"

* * * * * * * *

_The greatest pleasure in life is that of reading. Why not then own the

books of great novelists when the price is so small_

_Of all the amusements which can possibly be imagined for a hard-working

man, after his daily toil, or, in its intervals, there is nothing like

reading an entertaining book. It calls for no bodily exertion. It

transports him into a livelier, and gayer, and more diversified and

interesting scene, and while he enjoys himself there he may forget the

evils of the present moment. Nay, it accompanies him to his next day's

work, and gives him something to think of besides the mere mechanical

drudgery of his every-day occupation--something he can enjoy while

absent, and look forward with pleasure to return to._

_Ask your dealer for a list of the titles in Burt's Popular Priced

Fiction_

_In buying the books bearing the A. L. Burt Company imprint you are

assured of wholesome, entertaining and instructive reading_

*THE BEST OF RECENT FICTION*

Adventurer of Jimmie Dale, The. Frank L. Packard.

Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. A. Conan Doyle.

Affair at Flower Acres, The. Carolyn Wells.

Affinities and Other Stories. Mary Roberts Rinehart.

After House, The. Mary Roberts Rinehart.

Against the Winds. Kate Jordan.

Alcatraz. Max Brand.

Alias Richard Power. William Allison.

All the Way by Water. Elizabeth Stancy Payne.

Amateur Gentleman, The. Jeffery Farnol.

Amateur Inn, The. Albert Payson Terhune.

Anna the Adventuress. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Anne's House of Dreams. L. M. Montgomery.

Anybody But Anne. Carolyn Wells.

Are All Men Alike, and The Lost Titian. Arthur Stringer.

Around Old Chester. Margaret Deland.

Arrant Rover, The. Berta Ruck.

Athalie. Robert W. Chambers.

At the Mercy of Tiberius. Augusta Evans Wilson.

At Sight of Gold. Cynthia Lombardi.

Auction Block, The. Rex Beach.

Aunt Jane of Kentucky. Eliza C. Hall.

Awakening of Helena Ritchie. Margaret Deland.

Bab: a Sub-Deb. Mary Roberts Rinehart

Bar 20. Clarence E. Mulford.

Bar 20 Days. Clarence E. Mulford.

Bar 20 Three. Clarence E. Mulford.

Barrier, The. Rex Beach.

Bars of Iron, The. Ethel M. Dell.

Bat Wing. Sax Rohmer.

Beasts of Tarzan, The. Edgar Rice BurrougHs.

Beautiful and Damned, The. F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Beauty. Rupert Hughes.

Behind Locked Doors. Ernest M. Poate.

Bella Donna. Robert Hichens. (Photoplay Ed.).

Beloved Traitor, The. Frank L. Packard.

Beloved Vagabond, The. Wm. J. Locke.

Beloved Woman, The. Kathleen Norris.

Beltane the Smith. Jeffery Farnol.

Betrayal, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Beyond the Frontier. Randall Parrish.

Big Timber. Bertrand W. Sinclair.

Black Bartlemy's Treasure. Jeffery Farnol.

Black Buttes. Clarence E. Mulford.

Black Caesar's Clan. Albert Payson Terhune,

Black Gold. Albert Payson Terhune.

Black Is White. George Barr McCutcheon.

Black Oxen. Gertrude Atherton. (Photoplay Ed.).

Blue Circle, The. Elizabeth Jordan.

Bob, Son of Battle. Alfred Olivant.

Box With Broken Seals, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim

Brandon of the Engineers. Harold Bindloss.

Breaking Point, The. Mary Roberts Rinehart.

Bridge of Kisses. Berta Ruck.

Bring Me His Ears. Clarence E. Mulford.

Broad Highway, The. Jeffery Farnol.

Broken Barriers. Meredith Nicholson.

Brown Study, The. Grace S. Richmond.

Buck Peters, Ranchman. Clarence E. Mulford.

Bush-Rancher, The. Harold Bindloss.

Cabbages and Kings. O. Henry.

Cabin Fever. B. M. Bower.

Calling of Dan Matthews, The. Harold Bell Wright.

Cape Cod Stories. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Cap'n Dan's Daughter. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Cap'n Eri. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Cap'n Warren's Wards. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Carnac's Folly. Gilbert Parker.

Cat's Paw, The. Natalie Sumner Lincoln.

Cattle. Winnifred Eaton.

Certain People of Importance. Kathleen Norris.

Chief Legatee, The. Anna Katharine Green.

Cinema Murder, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

City of Lilies, The. Anthony Pryde and R. K. Weehes.

City of Peril, The. Arthur Stringer.

Clipped Wings. Rupert Hughes.

Clue of the New Pin, The. Edgar Wallace.

Colorado Jim. George Goodchild.

Coming of Cassidy, The. Clarence E. Mulford.

Coming of the Law, The. Chas. A. Seltzer.

Communicating Door, The. Wadsworth Camp.

Comrades of Peril. Randall Parrish.

Conquest of Canaan, The. Booth Tarkington.

Contraband. Clarence Budington Kelland.

Court of Inquiry, A. Grace S. Richmond.

Crimson Blotter, The. Isabel Ostrander.

Crimson Gardenia, The, and Other Tales of Adventure. Rex Beach.

Crimson Tide, The. Robert W. Chambers.

Cross Currents. Author of "Pollyanna."

Cross Pull, The. Hal G. Evarts.

Cry in the Wilderness, A. Mary E. Waller.

Cry of Youth, A. Cynthia Lombardi.

Cup of Fury, The. Rupert Hughes.

Curious Quest, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Curved Blades, The. Carolyn Wells.

Cytherea. Joseph Hergesheimer.

Damsel in Distress, A. Pelham G. Wodehouse.

Dancing Star, The. Berta Ruck.

Danger and Other Stories. A. Conan Doyle.

Dark Hollow. Anna Katharine Green.

Daughter Pays, The. Mrs. Baillie Reynolds.

Depot Master, The. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Desert Healer, The. E. M. Hull.

Destroying Angel, The. Louis Joseph Vance. (Photoplay Ed.).

Devil's Paw, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Diamond Thieves, The. Arthur Stringer.

Disturbing Charm, The. Berta Ruck.

Donnegan. George Owen Baxter.

Door of Dread, The. Arthur Stringer.

Doors of the Night. Frank L. Packard.

Dope. Sax Rohmer.

Double Traitor, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Dust of the Desert. Robert Welles Ritchie.

Empty Hands. Arthur Stringer.

Empty Pockets. Rupert Hughes.

Empty Sack, The. Basil King.

Enchanted Canyon. Honore Willsie.

Enemies of Women. V. B. Ibanez. (Photoplay Ed.).

Eris. Robert W. Chambers.

Erskine Dale, Pioneer. John Fox, Jr.

Evil Shepherd, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Extricating Obadiah. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Eye of Zeitoon, The. Talbot Mundy.

Eyes of the Blind. Arthur Somers Roche.

Eyes of the World. Harold Bell Wright.

Fair Harbor. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Family. Wayland Wells Williams.

Fathoms Deep. Elizabeth Stancy Payne.

Feast of the Lanterns. Louise Gordon Miln.

Fighting Chance, The. Robert W. Chambers.

Fighting Shepherdess, The. Caroline Lockhart.

Financier, The. Theodore Dreiser.

Fire Tongue. Sax Rohmer.

Flaming Jewel, The. Robert W. Chambers.

Flowing Gold. Rex Beach.

Forbidden Trail, The. Honore Willsie.

Forfeit, The. Ridgwell Cullum.

Four Million, The. O. Henry.

Foursquare. Grace S. Richmond.

Four Stragglers, The. Frank L. Packard.

Free Range Lanning. George Owen Baxter.

From Now On. Frank L. Packard.

Fur Bringers, The. Hulbert Footner.

Further Adventures of Jimmie Dale. Frank L. Packard.

Galusha the Magnificent. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Gaspards of Pine Croft, The. Ralph Connor.

Gay Year, The. Dorothy Speare.

Gift of the Desert. Randall Parrish.

Girl in the Mirror, The. Elizabeth Jordan.

Girl from Kellers, The. Harold Bindloss.

Girl Philippa, The. Robert W. Chambers.

Girls at His Billet, The. Berta Ruck.

Glory Rides the Range. Ethel and James Borrance.

God's Country and the Woman. James Oliver Curwood.

God's Good Man. Marie Correlli.

Going Some. Rex Beach.

Gold Girl, The. James B. Hendryx.

Gold-Killer. John Prosper.

Golden Scorpion, The. Sax Rohmer.

Golden Slipper, The. Anna Katherine Green.

Golden Woman, The. Ridgwell Cullum.

Gray Phantom, The. Herman Landon.

Gray Phantom's Return, The. Herman Landon.

Great Impersonation, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Great Prince Shan, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Greater Love Hath No Man. Frank L. Packard.

Green Eyes of Bast, The. Sax Rohmer.

Green Goddess, The. Louise Jordan Miln. (Photoplay Ed.).

Greyfriars Bobby. Eleanor Atkinson.

Gun Brand, The. James B. Hendryx.

Gun Runner, The. Arthur Stringer.

Guns of the Gods. Talbot Mundy.

Hand of Fu-Manchu, The. Sax Rohmer.

Hand of Peril, The. Arthur Stringer.

Harbor Road, The. Sara Ware Bassett.

Harriet and the Piper. Kathleen Norris.

Havoc. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Head of the House of Coombe, The. Frances Hodgson Burnett.

Heart of the Desert, The. Honore Willsie.

Heart of the Hills, The. John Fox, Jr.

Heart of the Range, The. William Patterson White.

Heart of the Sunset. Rex Beach.

Heart of Unaga, The. Ridgwell Cullum.

Helen of the Old House. Harold Bell Wright.

Hidden Places, The. Bertrand W. Sinclair.

Hidden Trails. William Patterson White.

Hillman, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Hira Singh. Talbot Mundy.

His Last Bow. A. Conan Doyle.

His Official Fiancee. Berta Ruck.

Homeland. Margaret Hill McCarter.

Homestead Ranch. Elizabeth G. Young.

Honor of the Big Snows. James Oliver Curwood.

Hopalong Cassidy. Clarence E. Mulford.

Hound from the North, The. Ridgwell Cullum.

House of the Whispering Pines, The. Anna Katharine Green.

Humoresque. Fannie Hurst.

Illustrious Prince, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

In Another Girl's Shoes. Berta Ruck.

Indifference of Juliet, The. Grace S. Richmond.

Infelice. Augusta Evans Wilson.

Initials Only. Anna Katharine Green.

Innocent. Marie Corelli.

Innocent Adventuress, The. Mary Hastings Bradley.

Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu, The. Sax Rohmer.

In the Brooding Wild. Ridgwell Cullum.

In the Onyx Lobby. Carolyn Wells.

Iron Trail, The. Rex Beach.

Iron Woman, The. Margaret Deland.

Ishmael. (Ill.) Mrs. Southworth.

Isle of Retribution. Edison Marshall.

I've Married Marjorie. Margaret Widdemer.

Ivory Trail, The. Talbot Mundy.

Jacob's Ladder. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Jean of the Lazy A. B. M. Bower.

Jeanne of the Marshes. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Jeeves. P. G. Wodehouse.

Jimmie Dale and the Phantom Clew. Frank L. Packard.

Johnny Nelson. Clarence E. Mulford.

Joseph Greer and His Daughter. Henry Kitchell Webster.

Judith of the Godless Valley. Honore Willsie.

Keeper of the Door, The. Ethel M. Dell.

Keith of the Border. Randall Parrish.

Kent Knowles: Quahaug. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Kilmeny of the Orchard. L. M. Montgomery.

Kingdom of the Blind, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

King of Kearsarge. Arthur O. Friel.

King of the Khyber Rifles. Talbot Mundy.

King Spruce. Holman Day.

Knave of Diamonds, The. Ethel M. Dell.

Land-Girl's Love Story. A. Berta Ruck.

Land of Strong Men, The. A. M. Chisholm.

Laramie Holds the Range. Frank H. Spearman.

Last Trail, The. Zane Grey.

Laughing Bill Hyde. Rex Beach.

Laughing Girl, The. Robert W. Chambers.

Law Breakers, The. Ridgwell Cullum.

Law of the Gun, The. Ridgwell Cullum.

Leavenworth Case, The. Anna Katherine Green. (Photoplay Edition).

Light That Failed, The. Rudyard Kipling. (Photoplay Ed.).

Lighted Way, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Lin McLean. Owen Wister.

Lister's Great Adventure. Harold Bindloss.

Little Moment of Happiness, The. Clarence Budington Kelland.

Little Red Foot, The. Robert W. Chambers.

Little Warrior, The. Pelham Grenville Wodehouse.

Lonely Warrior, The. Claude C. Washburn.

Lonesome Land. B. M. Bower.

Lone Wolf, The. Louis Joseph Vance.

Long Live the King. Mary Roberts Rinehart. (Photoplay Edition).

Lost Ambassador. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Lost Discovery, The. Baillie Reynolds.

Lost Prince, The. Frances Hodgson Burnett.

Lost World, The. A. Conan Doyle.

Luck of the Kid, The. Ridgwell Cullum.

Lucretia Lombard, Kathleen Norris,

Luminous Face, The. Carolyn Wells.

Lydia of the Pines. Honore Willsie.

Lynch Lawyers, William Patterson White.

McCarty Incog. Isabel Ostrander.

Major, The. Ralph Connor.

Maker of History, A. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Malefactor, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Man and Maid. Elinor Glyn.

Man from Bar 20, The. Clarence E. Mulford.

Man from the Bitter Roots, The. Caroline Lockhart.

Man in the Moonlight, The. Rupert S. Holland.

Man in the Twilight, The. Ridgwell Cullum.

Man Killers, The. Dane Coolidge.

Man Who Couldn't Sleep, The. Arthur Stringer.

Man's Country. Peter Clark Macfarlane.

Marqueray's Duel. Anthony Pryde.

Martin Conisby's Vengeance. Jeffery Farnol.

Mary-Gusta. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Mary Wollaston. Henry Kitchell Webster.

Mason of Bar X Ranch. H. Bennett.

Master of Man. Hall Caine.

Master Mummer, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes. A. Conan Doyle.

Men Who Wrought, The. Ridgwell Cullum.

Meredith Mystery, The. Natalie Sumner Lincoln.

Midnight of the Ranges. George Gilbert.

Mine with the Iron Door, The. Harold Bell Wright.

Mischief Maker, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Missioner, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Miss Million's Maid. Berta Ruck.

Money, Love and Kate. Eleanor H. Porter.

Money Master, The. Gilbert Parker.

Money Moon, The. Jeffery Farnol.

Moonlit Way, The. Robert W. Chambers.

More Limehouse Nights. Thomas Burke.

More Tish. Mary Roberts Rinehart.

Moreton Mystery, The. Elizabeth Dejeans.

Mr. and Mrs. Sen. Louise Jordan Miln.

Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Mr. Pratt. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Mr. Pratt's Patients. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Mrs. Red Pepper. Grace S. Richmond.

Mr. Wu. Louise Jordan Miln.

My Lady of the North. Randall Parrish.

My Lady of the South. Randall Parish.

Mystery Girl, The. Carolyn Wells.