KEITH OF THE BORDER

A TALE OF THE PLAINS

By Randall Parrish

Author of "My Lady of the North, " "My Lady of the South. " "WhenWilderness Was King, " etc. 

CONTENTS

 I The Plainsman II The Scene of Tragedy III An Arrest IV An Old Acquaintance V The One Way VI The Escape VII In the Sand Desert VIII The Wilderness Cabin IX The Girl of the Cabin X Mr. Hawley Reveals Himself XI The Fight in the Dark XII Through the Night Shadows XIII The Ford of the Arkansas XIV The Landlady of the Occidental XV Again Christie Maclaire XVI Introducing Doctor Fairbain XVII In the Next Room XVIII Interviewing Willoughby XIX A Glimpse at Conspiracy XX Hope Goes to Sheridan XXI The Marshal of Sheridan XXII An Interrupted Interview XXIII An Unexpected Meeting XXIV A Mistake in Assassination XXV A Reappearance of the General XXVI A Chance Conversation XXVII Miss Hope Suggests XXVIII The Stage Door of the Trocadero XXIX By Force of Arms XXX In Christie's Room XXXI The Search for the Missing XXXII Fairbain and Christie XXXIII Following the Trail XXXIV Again at the Cabin XXXV The Cabin Taken XXXVI The Duel in the Desert XXXVII At the Water-Hole

KEITH OF THE BORDER

A TALE OF THE PLAINS

Chapter I. The Plainsman

The man was riding just below the summit of the ridge, occasionallyuplifting his head so as to gaze across the crest, shading his eyes withone hand to thus better concentrate his vision. Both horse and riderplainly exhibited signs of weariness, but every movement of the lattershowed ceaseless vigilance, his glance roaming the barren ridges, abrown Winchester lying cocked across the saddle pommel, his left handtaut on the rein. Yet the horse he bestrode scarcely required restraint, advancing slowly, with head hanging low, and only occasionally breakinginto a brief trot under the impetus of the spur. 

The rider was a man approaching thirty, somewhat slender and longof limb, but possessing broad, squared shoulders above a deep chest, sitting the saddle easily in plainsman fashion, yet with an erectness ofcarriage which suggested military training. The face under the widebrim of the weather-worn slouch hat was clean-shaven, browned by sun andwind, and strongly marked, the chin slightly prominent, the mouth firm, the gray eyes full of character and daring. His dress was that of roughservice, plain leather "chaps, " showing marks of hard usage, a graywoolen shirt turned low at the neck, with a kerchief knotted looselyabout the sinewy bronzed throat. At one hip dangled the holster of a"forty-five, " on the other hung a canvas-covered canteen. His was figureand face to be noted anywhere, a man from whom you would expect boththought and action, and one who seemed to exactly fit into his wildenvironment. 

Where he rode was the very western extreme of the prairie country, billowed like the sea, and from off the crest of its higher ridges, thewide level sweep of the plains was visible, extending like a vastbrown ocean to the foothills of the far-away mountains. Yet the actualcommencement of that drear, barren expanse was fully ten miles distant, while all about where he rode the conformation was irregular, comprisingnarrow valleys and swelling mounds, with here and there a sharp ravine, riven from the rock, and invisible until one drew up startled at itsvery brink. The general trend of depression was undoubtedly southward, leading toward the valley of the Arkansas, yet irregular ridgesoccasionally cut across, adding to the confusion. The entire surroundinglandscape presented the same aspect, with no special object upon whichthe eye could rest for guidance--no tree, no upheaval of rock, nopeculiarity of summit, no snake-like trail, --all about extended the samedull, dead monotony of brown, sun-baked hills, with slightly greenerdepressions lying between, interspersed by patches of sand or the whitegleam of alkali. It was a dreary, deserted land, parched under the hotsummer sun, brightened by no vegetation, excepting sparse bunches ofbuffalo grass or an occasional stunted sage bush, and disclosing nowhereslightest sign of human habitation. 

The rising sun reddened the crest of the hills, and the rider, haltinghis willing horse, sat motionless, gazing steadily into the southwest. Apparently he perceived nothing there unusual, for he slowly turned hisbody about in the saddle, sweeping his eyes, inch by inch, along theline of the horizon, until the entire circuit had been completed. Thenhis compressed lips smiled slightly, his hand unconsciously patting thehorse's neck. 

"I reckon we're still alone, old girl, " he said quietly, a bit ofSouthern drawl in the voice. "We'll try for the trail, and take iteasy. "

He swung stiffly out of the saddle, and with reins dangling over hisshoulder, began the slower advance on foot, the exhausted horse trailingbehind. His was not a situation in which one could feel certain ofsafety, for any ridge might conceal the wary foemen he sought to avoid, yet he proceeded now with renewed confidence. It was the Summer of 1868, and the place the very heart of the Indian country, with every separatetribe ranging between the Yellowstone and the Brazos, either restlessor openly on the war-path. Rumors of atrocities were being retold thelength and breadth of the border, and every report drifting in to eitherfort or settlement only added to the alarm. For once at least the PlainsIndians had discovered a common cause, tribal differences had beenadjusted in war against the white invader, and Kiowas, Comanches, Arapahoes, Cheyennes, and Sioux, had become welded together in savagebrotherhood. To oppose them were the scattered and unorganized settlerslining the more eastern streams, guarded by small detachments of regulartroops posted here and there amid that broad wilderness, scarcely withintouch of each other. 

Everywhere beyond these lines of patrol wandered roaming war parties, attacking travellers on the trails, raiding exposed settlements, andoccasionally venturing to try open battle with the small squads of armedmen. In this stress of sudden emergency--every available soldier onactive duty--civilians had been pressed into service, and hastilydespatched to warn exposed settlers, guide wagon trains, or carrydespatches between outposts. And thus our rider, Jack Keith, who knewevery foot of the plains lying between the Republican and the CanadianRivers, was one of these thus suddenly requisitioned, merely becausehe chanced to be discovered unemployed by the harassed commander ofa cantonment just without the environs of Carson City. Twenty minuteslater he was riding swiftly into the northwest, bearing important newsto General Sheridan, commander of the Department, who happened at thatmoment to be at Fort Cairnes. To Keith this had been merely another pagein a career of adventure; for him to take his life in his hands hadlong ago become an old story. He had quietly performed the special dutyallotted him, watched a squadron of troopers trot forth down the valleyof the Republican, received the hasty thanks of the peppery littlegeneral, and then, having nothing better to do, traded his horse inat the government corral for a fresh mount and started back again forCarson City. For the greater portion of two nights and a day he had beenin the saddle, but he was accustomed to this, for he had driven morethan one bunch of longhorns up the Texas trail; and as he had sleptthree hours at Cairnes, and as his nerves were like steel, the thoughtof danger gave him slight concern. He was thoroughly tired, and itrested him to get out of the saddle, while the freshness of the morningair was a tonic, the very breath of which made him forgetful of fatigue. 

After all, this was indeed the very sort of experience which appealed tohim, and always had--this life of peril in the open, under the stars andthe sky. He had constantly experienced it for so long now, eight years, as to make it seem merely natural. While he ploughed steadily forwardthrough the shifting sand of the coulee, his thought drifted idly backover those years, and sometimes he smiled, and occasionally frowned, asvarious incidents returned to memory. It had been a rough life, yetone not unusual to those of his generation. Born of excellent family intidewater Virginia, his father a successful planter, his mother had diedwhile he was still in early boyhood, and he had grown up cut off fromall womanly influence. He had barely attained his majority, a senior atWilliam and Mary's College, when the Civil War came; and one monthafter Virginia cast in her lot with the South, he became a sergeant ina cavalry regiment commanded by his father. He had enjoyed that lifeand won his spurs, yet it had cost. There was much not over pleasantto remember, and those strenuous years of almost ceaseless fighting, of long night marches, of swift, merciless raiding, of lonely scoutingwithin the enemy's lines, of severe wounds, hardship, and suffering, had left their marks on both body and soul. His father had fallen on thefield at Antietam, and left him utterly alone in the world, but he hadfought on grimly to the end, until the last flag of the Confederacy hadbeen furled. By that time, upon the collar of his tattered gray jacketappeared the tarnished insignia of a captain. The quick tears dimmedhis eyes even now as he recalled anew that final parting followingAppomattox, the battle-worn faces of his men, and his own painfuljourney homeward, defeated, wounded, and penniless. It was no homewhen he got there, only a heap of ashes and a few weed-grown acres. Nofamiliar face greeted him; not even a slave was left. 

He had honestly endeavored to remain there, to face the future and workit out alone; he persuaded himself to feel that this was his paramountduty to the State, to the memory of the dead. But those very yearsof army life made such a task impossible; the dull, dead monotony ofroutine, the loneliness, the slowness of results, became intolerable. Asit came to thousands of his comrades, the call of the West came to him, and at last he yielded, and drifted toward the frontier. The life therefascinated him, drawing him deeper and deeper into its swirling vortex. He became freighter, mail carrier, hunter, government scout, cowboyforeman. Once he had drifted into the mountains, and took a chance inthe mines, but the wide plains called him back once more to their desertloneliness. What an utter waste it all seemed, now that he looked backupon it. Eight years of fighting, hardship, and rough living, and whathad they brought him? The reputation of a hard rider, a daring playerat cards, a quick shot, a scorner of danger, and a bad man to foolwith--that was the whole of a record hardly won. The man's eyeshardened, his lips set firmly, as this truth came crushing home. Apretty life story surely, one to be proud of, and with probably nobetter ending than an Indian bullet, or the flash of a revolver in somebarroom fight. 

The narrow valley along which he was travelling suddenly changed itsdirection, compelling him to climb the rise of the ridge. Slightly belowthe summit he halted. In front extended the wide expanse of the Arkansasvalley, a scene of splendor under the golden rays of the sun, with vividcontrast of colors, the gray of rocks, the yellow of sand, the brownof distant hills, the green of vegetation, and the silver sheen of thestream half hidden behind the fringe of cottonwoods lining itsbanks. This was a sight Keith had often looked upon, but always withappreciation, and for the moment his eyes swept across from bluff tobluff without thought except for its wild beauty. Then he perceivedsomething which instantly startled him into attention--yonder, closebeside the river, just beyond that ragged bunch of cottonwoods, slenderspirals of blue smoke were visible. That would hardly be a camp offreighters at this hour of the day, and besides, the Santa Fé trailalong here ran close in against the bluff, coming down to the riverat the ford two miles further west. No party of plainsmen would everventure to build a fire in so exposed a spot, and no small company wouldtake the chances of the trail. But surely that appeared to be the flapof a canvas wagon top a little to the right of the smoke, yet all wasso far away he could not be certain. He stared in that direction a longwhile, shading his eyes with both hands, unable to decide. There werethree or four moving black dots higher up the river, but so far away hecould not distinguish whether men or animals. Only as outlined againstthe yellow sand dunes could he tell they were advancing westward towardthe ford. 

Decidedly puzzled by all this, yet determined to solve the mystery andunwilling to remain hidden there until night, Keith led his horse alongthe slant of the ridge, until he attained a sharp break through thebluff leading down into the valley. It was a rugged gash, nearlyimpassable, but a half hour of toil won them the lower prairie, thewinding path preventing the slightest view of what might be meanwhiletranspiring below. Once safely out in the valley the river could nolonger be seen, while barely a hundred yards away, winding along likea great serpent, ran the deeply rutted trail to Santa Fé. In neitherdirection appeared any sign of human life. As near as he could determinefrom those distant cottonwoods outlined against the sky, for the smokespirals were too thin by then to be observed, the spot sought must beconsiderably to the right of where he had emerged. With this idea inmind he advanced cautiously, his every sense alert, searching anxiouslyfor fresh signs of passage or evidence of a wagon train having desertedthe beaten track, and turned south. The trail itself, dustless andpacked hard, revealed nothing, but some five hundred yards beyond theravine he discovered what he sought--here two wagons had turned sharplyto the left, their wheels cutting deeply enough into the prairie sod toshow them heavily laden. With the experience of the border he was ableto determine that these wagons were drawn by mules, two span to each, their small hoofs clearly defined on the turf, and that they were beingdriven rapidly, on a sharp trot as they turned, and then, a hundred feetfurther, at a slashing gallop. Just outside their trail appeared themarks of a galloping horse. A few rods farther along Keith came to aconfused blur of pony tracks sweeping in from the east, and the wholestory of the chase was revealed as though he had witnessed it with hisown eyes. They must have been crazy, or else impelled by some gravenecessity, to venture along this trail in so small a party. And theywere travelling west--west! Keith drew a deep breath, and swore tohimself, "Of all the blame fools!"

He perceived the picture in all its grewsome details--the two mule-drawnwagons moving slowly along the trail in the early morning; the band ofhostile Indians suddenly swooping out from some obscure hiding placein the bluffs; the discovery of their presence; the desperate effort atescape; the swerving from the open trail in vain hope of reaching theriver and finding protection underneath its banks; the frightenedmules galloping wildly, lashed into frenzy by the man on horseback; thepounding of the ponies' hoofs, punctuated by the exultant yells of thepursuers. Again he swore:

"Of all the blame fools!"

Chapter II. The Scene of Tragedy

Whatever might be the nature of the tragedy it would be over with longbefore this, and those moving black spots away yonder to the west, thathe had discerned from the bluff, were undoubtedly the departing raiders. There was nothing left for Keith to do except determine the fate of theunfortunates, and give their bodies decent burial. That any had escaped, or yet lived, was altogether unlikely, unless, perchance, women had beenin the party, in which case they would have been borne away prisoners. 

Confident that no hostiles would be left behind to observe hismovements, Keith pressed steadily forward, leading his horse. He hadthus traversed fully half a mile before coming upon any evidence of afight--here the pursuers had apparently come up with the wagons, andcircled out upon either side. From their ponies' tracks there must havebeen a dozen in the band. Perhaps a hundred yards further along laytwo dead ponies. Keith examined them closely--both had been ridden withsaddles, the marks of the cinches plainly visible. Evidently one of thewagon mules had also dropped in the traces here, and had been draggedalong by his mates. Just beyond came a sudden depression in the prairiedown which the wagons had plunged so heavily as to break one of theaxles; the wheel lay a few yards away, and, somewhat to the right, therelay the wreck of the wagon itself, two dead mules still in the traces, the vehicle stripped of contents and charred by fire. A hundred feetfarther along was the other wagon, its tongue broken, the canvas topripped open, while between the two were scattered odds and ends ofwearing apparel and provisions, with a pile of boxes smoking grimly. Theremaining mules were gone, and no semblance of life remained anywhere. Keith dropped his reins over his horse's head, and, with Winchestercocked and ready, advanced cautiously. 

Death from violence had long since become almost a commonplaceoccurrence to Keith, yet now he shrank for an instant as his eyesperceived the figure of a man lying motionless across the broken wagontongue. The grizzled hair and beard were streaked with blood, the facealmost unrecognizable, while the hands yet grasped a bent and shatteredrifle. Evidently the man had died fighting, beaten down by overwhelmingnumbers after expending his last shot. Then those fiends had scalpedand left him where he fell. Fifty feet beyond, shot in the back, lay ayounger man, doubled up in a heap, also scalped and dead. That was all;Keith scouted over a wide circle, even scanning the stretch of gravelunder the river bank, before he could fully satisfy himself there wereno others in the party. It seemed impossible that these two travellingalone would have ventured upon such a trip in the face of known Indianhostility. Yet they must have done so, and once again his lips muttered:

"Of all the blame fools!"

Suddenly he halted, staring about over the prairie, obsessed by a newthought, an aroused suspicion. There had appeared merely the hoof-printsof the one horse alongside of the fleeing wagons when they first turnedout from the trail, and that horse had been newly shod. But there weretwo dead ponies lying back yonder; neither shod, yet both had bornesaddles. More than this, they had been spurred, the blood marks stillplainly visible, and one of them was branded; he remembered it now, astar and arrow. What could all this portend? Was it possible this attackwas no Indian affair after all? Was the disfiguring of bodies, thescalping, merely done to make it appear the act of savages? Drivento investigation by this suspicion, he passed again over the trampledground, marking this time every separate indentation, every faintestimprint of hoof or foot. There was no impression of a moccasin anywhere;every mark remaining was of booted feet. The inference was sufficientlyplain--this had been the deed of white men, not of red; foul murder, andnot savage war. 

The knowledge seemed to seer Keith's brain with fire, and he sprang tohis feet, hands clinched and eyes blazing. He could have believed thisof Indians, it was according to their nature, their method of warfare;but the cowardliness of it, the atrocity of the act, as perpetratedby men of his own race, instantly aroused within him a desire forvengeance. He wanted to run the fellows down, to discover theiridentity. Without thinking of personal danger, he ran forward on theirtrail, which led directly westward, along the line of cottonwoods. Theseserved to conceal his own movements, yet for the moment, burning withpassion, he was utterly without caution, without slightest sense ofperil. He must know who was guilty of such a crime; he felt capable ofkilling them even as he would venomous snakes. It was a perfectly plaintrail to follow, for the fugitives, apparently convinced of safety, andconfident their cowardly deed would be charged to Indian raiders, hadmade no particular effort at concealment, but had ridden away at agallop, their horses' hoofs digging deeply into the soft turf. On thisretreat they had followed closely along the river bank, aiming for theford, and almost before he realized it Keith was himself at the water'sedge where the trail abruptly ended, staring vaguely across towardthe opposite shore. Even as he stood there, realizing the futility offurther pursuit amid the maze of sand dunes opposite, the sharp reportsof two rifles reached him, spurts of smoke rose from the farther bank, and a bullet chugged into the ground at his feet, while another sangshrilly overhead. 

These shots, although neither came sufficiently near to be alarming, served to send Keith to cover. Cool-headed and alert now, his firstmad rage dissipated, he scanned the opposite bank cautiously, but couldnowhere discover any evidence of life. Little by little he comprehendedthe situation, and decided upon his own action. The fugitives were awareof his presence, and would prevent his crossing the stream, yet theywere not at all liable to return to this side and thus reveal theiridentity. To attempt any further advance would be madness, but he feltperfectly secure from molestation so long as he remained quietly on thenorth shore. Those shots were merely a warning to keep back; the veryfact that the men firing kept concealed was proof positive that theysimply wished to be left alone. They were not afraid of what he knewnow, only desirous of not being seen. Confident as to this, he retreatedopenly, without making the slightest effort to conceal his movements, until he had regained the scene of murder. In evidence of the truth ofhis theory no further shots were fired, and although he watched thatopposite sand bank carefully, not the slightest movement revealed thepresence of others. That every motion he made was being observed by keeneyes he had no doubt, but this knowledge did not disconcert him, nowthat he felt convinced fear of revealment would keep his watchers at asafe distance. Whoever they might be they were evidently more anxious toescape discovery than he was fearful of attack, and possessed no desireto take his life, unless it became necessary to prevent recognition. They still had every reason to believe their attack on the wagons wouldbe credited to hostile Indians, and would consider it far safer toremain concealed, and thus harbor this supposition. They could notsuspect that Keith had already stumbled upon the truth, and wasdetermined to verify it. 

Secure in this conception of the situation, yet still keeping a wary eyeabout to guard against any treachery, the plainsman, discovering a spadein the nearest wagon, hastily dug a hole in the sand, wrapped the deadbodies in blankets, and deposited them therein, piling above the moundthe charred remains of boxes as some slight protection against prowlingwolves. He searched the clothing of the men, but found little to rewardthe effort, a few letters which were slipped into his pockets to be readlater, some ordinary trinkets hardly worth preserving except that theymight assist in identifying the victims, and, about the neck of theelder man, a rather peculiar locket, containing a portrait paintedon ivory. Keith was a long time opening this, the spring being veryingeniously concealed, but upon finally succeeding, he looked uponthe features of a woman of middle age, a strong mature face of markedrefinement, exceedingly attractive still, with smiling dark eyes, anda perfect wealth of reddish brown hair. He held the locket open in hishands for several minutes, wondering who she could be, and what possibleconnection she could have held with the dead. Something about that facesmiling up into his own held peculiar fascination for him, gripping himwith a strange feeling of familiarity, touching some dim memory whichfailed to respond. Surely he had never seen the original, for she wasnot one to be easily forgotten, and yet eyes, hair, expression, combined to remind him of some one whom he had seen but could not bringdefinitely to mind. There were no names on the locket, no marks ofidentification of any kind, yet realizing the sacredness of it, Keithslipped the fragile gold chain about his neck, and securely hid thetrinket beneath his shirt. 

It was noon by this time, the sun high overhead, and his horse, withdangling rein, still nibbling daintily at the short grass. There wasno reason for his lingering longer. He swept his gaze the length andbreadth of the desolate valley, and across the river over the sandhills. All alike appeared deserted, not a moving thing being visiblebetween the bluffs and the stream. Still he had the unpleasant feelingof being watched, and it made him restless and eager to be away. Theearlier gust of anger, the spirit of revenge, had left him, but it hadmerely changed into a dogged resolution to discover the perpetrators ofthis outrage and bring them to justice for the crime. The face in thelocket seemed to ask it of him, and his nature urged response. But hecould hope to accomplish nothing more here, and the plainsman swunghimself into the saddle. He turned his horse's head eastward, and rodeaway. From the deeply rutted trail he looked back to where the firestill smoked in the midst of that desolate silence. 

Chapter III. An Arrest

The Santa Fé trail was far too exposed to be safely travelled aloneand in broad daylight, but Keith considered it better to put sufficientspace between himself and those whom he felt confident were stillwatching his movements from across the river. How much they mightalready suspicion his discoveries he possessed no means of knowing, yet, conscious of their own guilt, they might easily feel safer if he werealso put out of the way. He had no anticipation of open attack, but mustguard against treachery. As he rode, his eyes never left those far-awaysand dunes, although he perceived no movement, no black dot even whichhe could conceive to be a possible enemy. Now that he possessed ampletime for thought, the situation became more puzzling. This tragedy whichhe had accidentally stumbled upon must have had a cause other than blindchance. It was the culmination of a plot, with some reason behind moreimportant than ordinary robbery. Apparently the wagons contained nothingof value, merely the clothing, provisions, and ordinary utensils of anemigrant party. Nor had the victims' pockets been carefully searched. Only the mules had been taken by the raiders, and they would be smallbooty for such a crime. 

The trail, continually skirting the high bluff and bearing fartheraway from the river, turned sharply into a narrow ravine. There was aconsiderable break in the rocky barrier here, leading back for perhaps ahundred yards, and the plainsman turned his horse that way, dismountingwhen out of sight among the bowlders. He could rest here until nightwith little danger of discovery. He lay down on the rocks, pillowinghis head on the saddle, but his brain was too active to permit sleeping. Finally he drew the letters from out his pocket, and began examiningthem. They yielded very little information, those taken from the olderman having no envelopes to show to whom they had been addressed. Thesingle document found in the pocket of the other was a memorandum ofaccount at the Pioneer Store at Topeka, charged to John Sibley, andmarked paid. This then must have been the younger man's name, as theletters to the other began occasionally "Dear Will. " They were missivessuch as a wife might write to a husband long absent, yet upon a missionof deep interest to both. Keith could not fully determine what thismission might be, as the persons evidently understood each other sothoroughly that mere allusion took the place of detail. Twice the namePhyllis was mentioned, and once a "Fred" was also referred to, but inneither instance clearly enough to reveal the relationship, although thelatter appeared to be pleaded for. Certain references caused the beliefthat these letters had been mailed from some small Missouri town, but noname was mentioned. They were invariably signed "Mary. " The only otherpaper Keith discovered was a brief itinerary of the Santa Fé trailextending as far west as the Raton Mountains, giving the usual campingspots and places where water was accessible. He slipped the papers backinto his pocket with a distinct feeling of disappointment, and lay backstaring up at the little strip of blue sky. The silence was profound, even his horse standing motionless, and finally he fell asleep. 

The sun had disappeared, and even the gray of twilight was fading outof the sky, when Keith returned again to consciousness, aroused by hishorse rolling on the soft turf. He awoke thoroughly refreshed, and eagerto get away on his long night's ride. A cold lunch, hastily eaten, for afire would have been dangerous, and he saddled up and was off, trottingout of the narrow ravine and into the broad trail, which could befollowed without difficulty under the dull gleam of the stars. Horseand rider were soon at their best, the animal swinging unurged into thelong, easy lope of prairie travel, the fresh air fanning the man's faceas he leaned forward. Once they halted to drink from a narrow stream, and then pushed on, hour after hour, through the deserted night. Keithhad little fear of Indian raiders in that darkness, and every stride ofhis horse brought him closer to the settlements and further removed fromdanger. Yet eyes and ears were alert to every shadow and sound. Once, itmust have been after midnight, he drew his pony sharply back into a rockshadow at the noise of something approaching from the east. The stageto Santa Fé rattled past, the four mules trotting swiftly, a squad oftroopers riding hard behind. It was merely a lumping shadow sweepingswiftly past; he could perceive the dim outlines of driver and guard, the soldiers swaying in their saddles, heard the pounding of hoofs, thecreak of axles, and then the apparition disappeared into the black void. He had not called out--what was the use? Those people would never pauseto hunt down prairie outlaws, and their guard was sufficient to preventattack. They acknowledged but one duty--to get the mail through on time. 

The dust of their passing still in the air, Keith rode on, the noisedying away in his rear. As the hours passed, his horse wearied and hadto be spurred into the swifter stride, but the man seemed tireless. Thesun was an hour high when they climbed the long hill, and loped intoCarson City. The cantonment was to the right, but Keith, having noreport to make, rode directly ahead down the one long street to a liverycorral, leaving his horse there, and sought the nearest restaurant. 

Exhausted by a night of high play and deep drinking the border town wassleeping off its debauch, saloons and gambling dens silent, the streetsalmost deserted. To Keith, whose former acquaintance with the placehad been entirely after nightfall, the view of it now was almost ashock--the miserable shacks, the gaudy saloon fronts, the litteredstreets, the dingy, unpainted hotel, the dirty flap of canvas, theunoccupied road, the dull prairie sweeping away to the horizon, allcomposed a hideous picture beneath the sun glare. He could scarcely finda man to attend his horse, and at the restaurant a drowsy Chinaman hadto be shaken awake, and frightened into serving him. He sat down to themiserable meal oppressed with disgust--never before had his life seemedso mean, useless, utterly without excuse. 

He possessed the appetite of the open, of the normal man in perfectphysical health, and he ate heartily his eyes wandering out of the openwindow down the long, dismal street. A drunken man lay in front of the"Red Light" Saloon sleeping undisturbed; two cur dogs were snarling ateach other just beyond over a bone; a movers' wagon was slowly coming inacross the open through a cloud of yellow dust. That was all within theradius of vision. For the first time in years the East called him--theold life of cleanliness and respectability. He swore to himself ashe tossed the Chinaman pay for his breakfast, and strode out onto thesteps. Two men were coming up the street together from the oppositedirection--one lean, dark-skinned, with black goatee, the other heavilyset with closely trimmed gray beard. Keith knew the latter, and waited, leaning against the door, one hand on his hip. 

"Hullo, Bob, " he said genially; "they must have routed you out prettyearly to-day. "

"They shore did, Jack, " was the response. He came up the steps somewhatheavily, his companion stopping below. "The boys raise hell all night, an' then come ter me ter straighten it out in the mawnin'. When did yegit in?"

"An hour ago; had to wake the 'chink' up to get any chuck. Town looksdead. "

"Tain't over lively at this time o' day, " permitting his blue eyes towander up the silent street, but instantly bringing them back to Keith'sface, "but I reckon it'll wake up later on. "

He stood squarely on both feet, and one hand rested on the butt of arevolver. Keith noticed this, wondering vaguely. 

"I reckon yer know, Jack, as how I ginerally git what I goes after, "said the slow, drawling voice, "an' that I draw 'bout as quick as any o'the boys. They tell me yo're a gun-fighter, but it won't do ye no goodter make a play yere, fer one o' us is sure to git yer--do yer sabe?"

"Get me?" Keith's voice and face expressed astonishment, but not amuscle of his body moved. "What do you mean, Bob--are you fellows afterme?"

"Sure thing; got the warrant here, " and he tapped the breast of hisshirt with his left hand. 

The color mounted into the cheeks of the other, his lips grew set andwhite, and his gray eyes darkened. 

"Let it all out, Marshal, " he said sternly, "you've got me roped andtied. Now what's the charge?"

Neither man moved, but the one below swung about so as to face them, onehand thrust out of sight beneath the tail of his long coat. 

"Make him throw up his hands, Bob, " he said sharply. 

"Oh, I reckon thar ain't goin' ter be no trouble, " returned the marshalgenially, yet with no relaxation of attention. "Keith knows me, an'expects a fair deal. Still, maybe I better ask yer to unhitch yer belt, Jack. "

A moment Keith seemed to hesitate, plainly puzzled by the situationand endeavoring to see some way of escape; then his lips smiled, and hesilently unhooked the belt, handing it over. 

"Sure, I know you're square, Hicks, " he said, coolly. "And now I'veunlimbered, kindly inform me what this is all about. "

"I reckon yer don't know. "

"No more than an unborn babe. I have been here but an hour. "

"That's it: if yer had been longer thar wouldn't be no trouble. Yo'rewanted for killin' a couple o' men out at Cimmaron Crossin' earlyyesterday mornin'. "

Keith stared at him too completely astounded for the instant to evenspeak. Then he gasped. 

"For God's sake, Hicks, do you believe that?"

"I'm damned if I know, " returned the marshal, doubtfully. "Don't seemlike ye'd do it, but the evidence is straight 'nough, an' thar ain'tnothin' fer me ter do but take ye in. I ain't no jedge an' jury. "

"No, but you ought to have ordinary sense, an' you've known me for threeyears. "

"Sure I have, Jack, but if yer've gone wrong, you won't be the firstgood man I've seen do it. Anyhow, the evidence is dead agin you, an' I'darrest my own grand-dad if they give me a warrant agin him. "

"What evidence is there?"

"Five men swear they saw ye haulin' the bodies about, and lootin' thepockets. "

Then Keith understood, his heart beating rapidly, his teeth clenched tokeep back an outburst of passion. So that was their game, was it?--someact of his had awakened the cowardly suspicions of those watching himacross the river. They were afraid that he knew them as white men. Andthey had found a way to safely muzzle him. They must have ridden hardover those sand dunes to have reached Carson City and sworn out thiswarrant. It was a good trick, likely enough to hang him, if the fellowsonly stuck to their story. All this flashed through his brain, yetsomehow he could not clearly comprehend the full meaning, his mindconfused and dazed by this sudden realization of danger. His eyeswandered from the steady gaze of the marshal, who had half drawn his gunfearing resistance, to the man at the bottom of the steps. Suddenly itdawned upon him where he had seen that dark-skinned face, with the blackgoatee, before--at the faro table of the "Red Light. " He gripped hishands together, instantly connecting that sneering, sinister face withthe plot. 

"Who swore out that warrant?"

"I did, if you need to know, " a sarcastic smile revealing a gleam ofwhite teeth, "on the affidavit of others, friends of mine. "

"Who are you?"

"I'm mostly called 'Black Bart. '"

That was it; he had the name now--"Black Bart. " He straightened up soquickly, his eyes blazing, that the marshal jerked his gun clear. 

"See here, Jack, " shortly, "are yer goin' to raise a row, or come alongquiet?"

As though the words had aroused him from a bad dream, Keith turned tofront the stern, bearded face. 

"There'll be no row, Bob, " he said, quietly. "I'll go with you. "

Chapter IV. An Old Acquaintance

The Carson City lock-up was an improvised affair, although a decidedlypopular resort. It was originally a two-room cabin with gable to thestreet, the front apartment at one time a low groggery, the keepersleeping in the rear room. Whether sudden death, or financial reverses, had been the cause, the community had in some manner become possessedof the property, and had at once dedicated it to the commonweal. For thepurpose thus selected it was rather well adapted, being strongly built, easily guarded, and on the outskirts of the town. With iron grating overthe windows, the back door heavily spiked, and the front secured byiron bars, any prisoner once locked within could probably be found whenwanted. On the occasion of Keith's arrival, the portion abutting uponthe street was occupied by a rather miscellaneous assembly--the drunkand disorderly element conspicuous--who were awaiting their severalcalls to appear before a local justice and make answer for variousmisdeeds. Some were pacing the floor, others sat moodily on benchesranged against the wall, while a few were still peacefully slumberingupon the floor. It was a frowsy, disreputable crowd, evincing but mildcuriosity at the arrival of a new prisoner. Keith had barely time toglance about, recognizing no familiarity of face amid the mass peeringat him, as he was hustled briskly forward and thrust into the rear room, the heavy door closing behind him with the snap of a spring lock. 

He was alone, with only the faintest murmur of voices coming to himthrough the thick partition. It was a room some twelve feet square, opento the roof, with bare walls, and containing no furniture except a rudebench. Still dazed by the suddenness of his arrest, he sank down uponthe seat, leaned his head on his hands, and endeavored to think. It wasdifficult to get the facts marshalled into any order or to comprehendclearly the situation, yet little by little his brain grasped the maindetails, and he awoke to a full realization of his condition, of theforces he must war against. The actual murderers of those two men on thetrail had had their suspicions aroused by his actions; they believedhe guessed something of their foul deed, and had determined to clearthemselves by charging the crime directly against him. It was a shrewdtrick, and if they only stuck to their story, ought to succeed. He hadno evidence, other than his own word, and the marshal had already takenfrom his pockets the papers belonging to the slain man. He had not foundthe locket hidden under his shirt, yet a more thorough search woulddoubtless reveal that also. 

Even should the case come to trial, how would it be possible for him toestablish innocence, and--_would it ever come to trial?_ Keith knew thecharacter of the frontier, and of Carson City. The inclination of itscitizens in such cases was to act first, and reflect later. The law hadbut slender hold, being respected only when backed by the strong hand, and primitive instincts were always in the ascendency, requiring merelya leader to break forth into open violence. And in this case would therebe any lack of leadership? Like a flash his mind reverted to "BlackBart. " There was the man capable of inciting a mob. If, for some unknownreason, he had sufficient interest to swear out the warrant and assistin the arrest, he would have equal cause to serve those fellows behindhim in other ways. Naturally, they would dread a trial, with itspossibility of exposure, and eagerly grasp any opportunity for wipingthe slate clean. Their real security from discovery undoubtedly layin his death, and with the "Red Light" crowd behind them they wouldexperience no trouble in getting a following desperate enough for anypurpose. 

The longer Keith thought the less he doubted the result. It was notthen a problem of defence, but of escape, for he believed now that noopportunity to defend himself would ever be allowed. The arrest wasmerely part of the plot intended to leave him helpless in the hands ofthe mob. In this Hicks was in no way blamable--he had merely performedhis sworn duty, and would still die, if need be, in defence of hisprisoner. He was no tool, but only an instrument they had found means ofusing. 

Keith was essentially a man of action, a fighter by instinct, and solong accustomed to danger that the excitement of it merely put new fireinto his veins. Now that he understood exactly what threatened, allnumbing feeling of hesitancy and doubt vanished, and he became instantlyalive. He would not lie there in that hole waiting for the formation ofa mob; nor would he trust in the ability of the marshal to defend him. 

He had some friends without--not many, for he was but an occasionalvisitor at Carson--who would rally to Hicks's assistance, but therewould not be enough on the side of law and order to overcome the "RedLight" outfit, if once they scented blood. If he was to be savedfrom their clutches, he must save himself; if his innocence was everestablished it would be by his own exertions--and he could accomplishthis only out yonder, free under the arch of sky. 

He lifted his head, every nerve tingling with desperate determination. The low growl of voices was audible through the partition, but therewas no other sound. Carson City was still resting, and there would beno crowd nor excitement until much later. Not until nightfall would anyattack be attempted; he had six or eight hours yet in which to perfecthis plans. He ran his eyes about the room searching for some spotof weakness. It was dark back of the bench, and he turned in thatdirection. Leaning over, he looked down on the figure of a man curledup, sound asleep on the floor. The fellow's limbs twitched as if in adream, otherwise he might have deemed him dead, as his face was buriedin his arms. A moment Keith hesitated; then he reached down and shookthe sleeper, until he aroused sufficiently to look up. It was the faceof a coal-black negro. An instant the fellow stared at the man toweringover him, his thick lips parted, his eyes full of sudden terror. Then hesat up, with hands held before him as though warding off a blow. 

"Fo' de Lawd's sake, " he managed to articulate finally, "am dis sho'yo', Massa Jack?"

Keith, to whom all colored people were much alike, laughed at theexpression on the negro's face. 

"I reckon yer guessed the name, all right, boy. Were you the cook of theDiamond L?"

"No, sah, I nebber cooked no di'onds. I'se ol' Neb, sah. "

"What?"

"Yes, sah, I'se de boy dat libbed wid ol' Missus Caton durin' de wah. Iain't seen yo', Massa Jack, sence de day we buried yo' daddy, ol' MassaKeith. But I knowed yo' de berry minute I woke up. Sho', yo' 'membersNeb, sah?"

It came to Keith now in sudden rush of memory--the drizzling rain in thelittle cemetery, the few neighbors standing about, a narrow fringe ofslaves back of them, the lowering of the coffin, and the hollow soundof earth falling on the box; and Neb, his Aunt Caton's house servant, ablack imp of good humor, who begged so hard to be taken back with him tothe war. Why, the boy had held his stirrup the next morning when he rodeaway. The sudden rush of recollection seemed to bridge the years, andthat black face became familiar, a memory of home. 

"Of course, I remember, Neb, " he exclaimed, eagerly, "but that's allyears ago and I never expected to see you again. What brought you Westand got you into this hole?"

The negro hitched up onto the bench, the whites of his eyes conspicuousas he stared uneasily about--he had a short, squatty figure, withexcessively broad shoulders, and a face of intense good humor. 

"I reck'n dat am consider'ble ob a story, Massa Jack, de circumlocutionob which would take a heap ob time tellin', " he began soberly. "Butit happened 'bout dis away. When de Yankees come snoopin' long de EastSho'--I reck'n maybe it des a yeah after dat time when we done buriedde ol' Co'nel--dey burned Missus Caton's house clah to de groun'; de ol'Missus was in Richmond den, an' de few niggers left jest natchally tookto de woods. I went into Richmond huntin' de ol' Missus, but, Lawd, Massa Jack, I nebber foun' nuthin' ob her in dat crowd. Den an' officerman done got me, an' put me diggin' in de trenches. Ef dat's what waham, I sho' don' want no mo' wah. Den after dat I jest natchally drifted. I reckon I libbed 'bout eberywhar yo' ebber heard ob, fo' dar want nouse ob me goin' back to de East Sho'. Somebody said dat de West am deright place fo' a nigger, an' so I done headed west. "

He dropped his face in his black hands, and was silent for some minutes, but Keith said nothing, and finally the thick voice continued:

"I tell yo', Massa Jack, it was mighty lonely fo' Neb dem days. I didn'tknow whar any ob yo' all was, an' it wan't no fun fo' dis niggerbein' free dat away. I got out ter Independence, Missouri, an' wasroustaboutin' on de ribber, when a coupple ob men come along what wanteda cook to trabbel wid 'em. I took de job, an' dat's what fetched me hereter Carson City. "

"But what caused your arrest?"

"A conjunction ob circumstances, Massa Jack; yes, sah, a conjunction obcircumstances. I got playin' pokah ober in dat 'Red Light, ' an' I wasdoin' fine. I reckon I'd cleaned up mo'n a hundred dollars when I gotsleepy, an' started fo' camp. I'd most got dar w'en a bunch ob lowwhite trash jumped me. It made me mad, it did fo' a fact, an' I reckonI carved some ob 'em up befo' I got away. Ennyhow, de marshal come down, took me out ob de tent, an' fetched me here, an' I ben here ebber sence. I wan't goin' ter let no low down white trash git all dat money. "

"What became of the men you were working for?"

"I reckon dey went on, sah. Dey had 'portent business, an' wouldn'tlikely wait 'roun' here jest ter help a nigger. Ain't ennybody ben hereter see me, no-how, an' I 'spects I'se eradicated from dey mem'ry--I'spects I is. "

Chapter V. The One Way

Keith said nothing for some moments, staring up at the light stealing inthrough the window grating, his mind once again active. The eyes of theblack man had the patient look of a dog as they watched; evidently hehad cast aside all responsibility, now that this other had come. FinallyKeith spoke slowly:

"We are in much the same position, Neb, and the fate of one is liable tobe the fate of both. This is my story"--and briefly as possible, heran over the circumstances which had brought him there, putting thesituation clear enough for the negro's understanding, without wastingany time upon detail. Neb followed his recital with bulging eyes, and anoccasional exclamation. At the end he burst forth:

"Yo' say dar was two ob dem white men murdered--one an ol' man wid agray beard, an' de odder 'bout thirty? Am dat it, Massa Jack, an' deyhad fo' span ob mules, an' a runnin' hoss?"

"Yes. "

"An' how far out was it?"

"About sixty miles. "

"Oh, de good Lawd!" and the negro threw up his hands dramatically. "Datsutt'nly am my outfit! Dat am Massa Waite an' John Sibley. "

"You mean the same men with whom you came here from Independence?"

Neb nodded, overcome by the discovery. 

"But what caused them to run such a risk?" Keith insisted. "Didn't theyknow the Indians were on the war path?"

"Sho'; I heard 'em talkin' 'bout dat, but Massa Waite was jest boun' fohto git movin'. He didn't 'pear to be 'fraid ob no Injuns; reck'ned dey'dnebber stop him, dat he knowed ebbery chief on de plains. I reck'n dathe did, too. "

"But what was he so anxious to get away for?"

"I dunno, Massa, I done heerd 'em talk some 'bout dey plans, an' 'boutsome gal dey wanted ter fin', but I didn't git no right sense to it. DeGin'ral, he was a mighty still man. "

"The General? Whom do you mean? Not Waite?"

"John Sibley done called him dat. "

Then Keith remembered--just a dim, misty thread at first, changingslowly into a clear recollection. He was riding with despatches fromLongstreet to Stonewall Jackson, and had been shot through the side. Thefirst of Jackson's troops he reached was a brigade of North Carolinians, commanded by General Waite--General Willis Waite. He had fallen from hishorse at the outposts, was brought helpless to the General's tent, andanother sent on with the papers. And Mrs. Waite had dressed and bandagedhis wound. That was where he had seen that woman's face before, withits haunting familiarity. He drew the locket from beneath his shirt, andgazed at the countenance revealed, with new intelligence. There couldbe no doubt--it was the face of her who had cared for him so tenderlyin that tent at Manassas before the fever came and he had lostconsciousness. And that, then, was Willis Waite lying in that shallowgrave near the Cimmaron Crossing, and for whose death he had beenarrested. 'T was a strange world, and a small one. What a miserableending to a life like his--a division commander of the Army of NorthernVirginia, a Lieutenant-Governor of his State. What strange combinationof circumstances could ever have brought such a man to this place, and sent him forth across those Indian-scouted plains? Surely nothingordinary. And why should those border desperadoes have followed, throughsixty miles of desolation, to trike him down? It was not robbery, at least in the ordinary sense. What then? And how was "Black Bart"involved? Why should he be sufficiently interested to swear out awarrant, and then assist in his arrest? There must be something to allthis not apparent upon the surface--some object, some purpose shroudedin mystery. No mere quarrel, no ordinary feud, no accident of meeting, no theory of commonplace robbery, would account for the deed, or for thedesperate efforts now being made to conceal it. 

Some way, these questions, thus surging upon him, became a call to live, to fight, to unravel their mystery. The memory of that sweet-faced womanwho had bent above him when the fever began its mastery, appealed tohim now with the opportunity of service. He might be able to clear this, bring to her the truth, save her from despair, and hand over to justicethe murderers of her husband. It was up to him alone to accomplishthis--no one else knew what he knew, suspected what he suspected. Andthere was but one way--through escape. To remain there in weak surrenderto fate could have but one ending, and that swift and sudden. He had nodoubt as to "Black Bart's" purpose, or of his ability to use the "RedLight" outfit as desired. The whole plan was clearly evident, and therewould be no delay in execution--all they were waiting for was night, anda lax guard. He glanced about at the walls of the room, his eyes grownhard, his teeth clenched. 

"Neb, " he said shortly, "I guess that was your outfit all right, butthey were not killed by Indians. They were run down by a gang from thistown--the same fellows who have put you and me in here. I don't knowwhat they were after--that's to be found out later, --but the fight youput up at the camp spoiled their game for once, and led to your arrest. They failed to get what was wanted in Carson, and so they trailed theparty to the Cimmaron Crossing. Then I got on their track, and fearingthe result, they've landed me also. Now they 'll get rid of us both asbest they can. These fellows won't want any trial--that would be liableto give the whole trick away--but they have got to put us where we won'ttalk. There is an easy way to do this, and that is by a lynching bee. Doyou get my drift, Neb?"

The whites of the negro's eyes were very much in evidence, his handsgripping at the bench on which he sat. 

"Fo' de Lawd, yes, Massa Jack, I sho' does. I corroborates de wholething. "

"Then you are willing to take a chance with me?"

"Willin'! Why, Massa Jack, I'se overjoyed; I ain't gwine leave yer nomo'. I'se sho' gwine ter be yo' nigger. What yo' gwine ter do?"

Keith ran his eyes over the walls, carefully noting every peculiarity. 

"We'll remain here quietly just as long as it is daylight, Neb, " hereplied finally, "but we'll try every board and every log to discoversome way out. Just the moment it grows dark enough to slip away withoutbeing seen we've got to hit the prairie. Once south of the Arkansaswe're safe, but not until then. Have you made any effort to get out?"

The negro came over to him, and bent down. 

"I was layin' on a board what I'd worked loose at one end, " he whisperedhoarsely, "back ob de bench, but I couldn't jerk it out wid'outsomethin' ter pry it up wid. "

"Where is it?"

"Right yere, Massa Jack. "

It was a heavy twelve-inch plank, part of the flooring, and the secondfrom the side-wall. Keith managed to get a grip next to the blackfingers, and the two pressed it up far enough for the white man to runone arm through the opening up to his shoulder and grope about below. 

"There's a two-foot space there, " he reported, as they let the boardsettle silently down into position. "The back part of this building mustbe set up on piles. I reckon we could pry that plank up with the bench, Neb, but it's liable to make considerable racket. Let's hunt about firstfor some other weak spot. "

They crept across the floor, testing each separate board, but withoutdiscovering a place where they could exert a leverage. The thickplanks were tightly spiked down. Nor did the walls offer any betterencouragement. Keith lifted himself to the grated window, getting aglimpse of the world without, but finding the iron immovable, the screwssolidly imbedded in the outside wood. He dropped to the floor, feelingbaffled and discouraged. 

"It will have to be the plank back of the bench, Neb, " he announcedbriefly, wiping the perspiration from his face. "Get down there, andwork it as loose as you can without making any noise, while I keep myear to the door and listen for any interruption. "

They took turns at this labor, discovering a loose nail which gave anopening purchase at the crack, thus enabling the insertion of a smallwooden block, and insuring space for a good finger grip when the righttime came. A sleepy Mexican brought in their dinner, and set it downon the bench without a word, but on his return with supper, the marshalaccompanied him, and remained while they ate, talking to Keith, andstaring about the room. Fortunately, the single window was to the west, and the last rays of the sun struck the opposite wall, leaving the spacebehind the bench in deep shadow. Whatever might be the plans of "BlackBart" and his cronies, Keith was soon convinced they were unknown toHicks, who had evidently been deceived into thinking that this lastarrest had created no excitement. 

"That's why we picked yer up so early, " he explained, genially. "Bartsaid if we got to yer afore the boys woke up they'd never hear nuthin''bout it, an' so thar wouldn't be no row. He didn't even think thar'dbe enny need o' keepin' a special guard ter-night, but I reckon I won'ttake no such chance as that, an' I'll have a couple o' deputies prowlin''round fer luck. When Carson does wake up, she's hell. "

He left them tobacco and pipes, and went away evidently convinced thathe had performed his full duty. The two prisoners, puffing smoke-ringsinto the air, heard the heavy clang of the iron bar falling into placeacross the door, and sat looking into one another's faces through thedeepening twilight. In the mind of both blaik and white reposed the samethought. The negro was first to break the silence. 

"'Pears ter me, Massa Jack, like dis yere Bart pusson am mighty anxiouster hab no suspicions raised. "

"Anybody but Hicks would see that, " acknowledged the other, the ringsof smoke circling his head, "but he hasn't any brains. It was pure nervethat got him the job. Well, this is one time that 'Bart pusson' is goingto find an empty coop. We'll get out, Neb, just as soon as it gets darkenough. Hicks isn't likely to put on his extra guard for an houryet, and the 'Red Light' bunch won't be fit for business much beforemidnight. By that time we'll be in the sand hills, heading south, ableto give them a run for their money--we'll have horses, too, if we canfind them. "

The negro's eyes shone white. 

"Fo' de Lawd's sake, Massa, " he protested, "dat'd sho' be a hangin' jobif ebber dey cotched us. "

Keith laughed, knocking out the ashes from his pipe. 

"With an hour's start that will be the least of my troubles, " he said, quietly. 

Chapter VI. The Escape

It was dark enough for their purpose in half an hour, the only gleamof remaining color being the red glow of the negro's pipe, even theopenings in the iron grating being blotted from sight. Keith, staringin that direction, failed to perceive any distant glimmer of star, anddecided the night must be cloudy, and that time for action had come. Guided by Neb's pipe bowl, he touched the boy on the shoulder. 

"Knock out your ashes, and shuffle about lively with your feet, while Ipry up the board. "

In spite of his slenderness, Keith possessed unusual strength, yet noexertion on his part served to start the loosened plank sufficiently fortheir purpose. Ripping a strip from the bench he managed to pry thehole somewhat larger, arranging the bench itself so as to afford thenecessary leverage, but even then his entire weight failed to eitherstart the spikes, or crack the plank. Some altercation began in theother room, the sound of angry voices and shuffling feet being plainlyaudible. It was clear to Keith that they must take the chance of anoise, and no better time than this could be chosen. 

"Here, Neb, take hold with me, and bear down--put your whole weight onit, boy. "

The two flung themselves upon the end of the bench leaping up and downso as to add weight to power. Something had to give, either the stoutwood of their improvised lever or else the holding of the plank. For aninstant it seemed likely to be the former; then, with a shrill screech, the long spikes yielded and the board suddenly gave. With shouldersinserted beneath, the two men heaved it still higher, ramming the benchbelow so as to leave the opening clear. This was now sufficiently amplefor the passage of a man's body, and Keith, lowering himself, discoveredthe earth to be fully four feet below. The negro instantly joined him, and they began creeping about in the darkness, seeking some way out. Arudely laid foundation of limestone alone obstructed their path to theopen air. This had been laid in mortar, but of inferior quality, so thatlittle difficulty was experienced in detaching sufficient to obtainhand hold. Working silently, not knowing what watchers might be alreadystationed without, they succeeded in loosening enough of the rock toallow them to crawl through, lying breathless in the open. Accustomed asthey were to the darkness, they could yet see little. They were upon theopposite side from the town, with no gleam of lights visible, prairieand sky blending together into spectral dimness, with no sound audiblebut the continued quarrel in the front room of the jail. Keith creptalong to the end of the building from where he could perceive the lightsof the town twinkling dimly through the intense blackness. Evidently theregular evening saturnalia had not yet begun, although there was alreadysemblance of life about the numerous saloons, and an occasional shoutpunctuated the stillness. A dog howled in the distance, and the poundingof swift hoofs along the trail told of fresh arrivals. An hour later andthe single street of Carson City would be alive with humanity, eager forany excitement, ready for any wild orgy, if only once turned loose. Thatit would be turned loose, and also directed, the man lying on his facein the grass felt fully assured. He smiled grimly, wishing he mightbehold "Black Bart's" face when he should discover the flight of hisintended victims. But there was no time to lose; every moment gained, added to their chance of safety. 

"Are those horses tied there by the blacksmith's shop?" he asked, pointing. 

The negro stared in the direction indicated, confused by the shadowsthrown by the dim lights. 

"I reck'n dey am, Massa Jack; I done make out fo'. "

"Then two of them must belong to us; come on, boy. "

He ran forward, crouching behind every chance cover, and keeping wellback behind the line of shacks. A slight depression in the prairiehelped conceal their movements, and neither spoke until they werecrouching together beside the wall of the shop. Then Neb, teethchattering, managed to blurt forth:

"Fo' de Lawd's sake, yer don't actually mean ter steal dem hosses?"

Keith glanced about at the other's dim, black shadow. 

"Sure not; just borrow 'em. "

"But dat's a hangin' job in dis yere country, Massa Jack. "

"Sure it is if they catch us. But we'd be strung up anyway, and we can'tbe hung twice. Besides there is a chance for us with the ponies, andnone at all without. An hour's start in the saddle, Neb, and this bunchback here will never even find our trail; I pledge you that. Come, boy, stay close with me. "

It was the quiet, confident voice of assured command, of one satisfiedwith his plans, and the obedient negro, breathing hard, never dreamedof opposition; all instincts of slavery held him to the dominion of thiswhite master. Keith leaned forward, staring at the string of desertedponies tied to the rail. Success depended on his choice, and he couldjudge very little in that darkness. Men were straggling in along thestreet to their right, on foot and horseback, and the saloon on thecorner was being well patronized. A glow of light streamed forth fromits windows, and there was the sound of many voices. But this narrowalley was deserted, and black. The fugitive stepped boldly forward, afraid that otherwise he might startle the ponies and thus create analarm. Guided by a horseman's instinct he swiftly ran his hands over theanimals, and made quick selection. 

"Here, Neb, take this fellow; lead him quietly down the bank, " and hethrust the loosened rein into the black's hand. 

An instant later he had chosen his own mount, and was silently movingin the same direction, although the night there was so black that theobedient negro had already entirely vanished. The slope of the land notonly helped cover their movements, but also rendered it easy for them tofind one another. Fully a hundred yards westward they met, where agully led directly down toward the river. There was no longer need forremaining on foot, as they were a sufficient distance away from thelittle town to feel no fear of being discovered, unless by some drunkenstraggler. At Keith's command the negro climbed into his saddle. Bothponies were restive, but not vicious, and after a plunge or two, to testtheir new masters, came easily under control. Keith led the way, movingstraight down the gully, which gradually deepened, burying them inits black heart, until it finally debouched onto the river sands. Theriotous noises of the drunken town died slowly away behind, the nightsilent and dark. The two riders could scarcely distinguish one anotheras they drew rein at the edge of the water. To the southward theregleamed a cluster of lights, marking the position of the camp ofregulars. Keith drove his horse deeper into the stream, and headednorthward, the negro following like a shadow. 

There was a ford directly opposite the cantonment, and another, moredangerous, and known to only a few, three miles farther up stream. Keeping well within the water's edge, so as to thus completely obscuretheir trail, yet not daring to venture deep for fear of strikingquicksand, the plainsman sent his pony struggling forward, until the dimoutline of the bank at his right rendered him confident that they hadattained the proper point for crossing. He had been that way only oncebefore, and realized the danger of attempting passage in such darkness, but urgent need drove him forward. 

"Follow me just as close as you can, boy, " he said sternly, "and keepboth your feet out of the stirrups. If your horse goes down hang to istail, and let him swim out. "

There was little enough to guide by, merely a single faint star peeringout from a rift of the clouds, but Keith's remembrance was that the fordled straight out to the centre of the stream, and then veered slightlytoward the right. He knew the sand ridge was only used by horsemen, notbeing wide enough for the safe passage of wagons, but the depth of thewater on either side was entirely problematical. He was taking a bigchance, yet dare not wait for daylight. Summoning all his nerve andalertness, he urged his horse slowly forward, the intelligent animalseemingly comprehending the situation, and feeling carefully forfooting. The actions of the animal gave the rider greater confidence, and he loosened his grip on the rein, leaving the pony's instinctto control. The latter fairly crept forward, testing the sand beforeresting any weight upon the hoof, the negro's mount following closely. The water was unusually high, and as they advanced it bore down againstthem in considerable volume; then, as they veered to the right, theywere compelled to push directly against its weight in struggling towardshore. The men could see nothing but this solid sheet of water rushingdown toward them from out the black void, and then vanishing below. OnceKeith's horse half fell, plunging nose under, yet gaining foothold againbefore the rider had deserted his saddle. A dim blackness ahead alreadyrevealed the nearness of the southern bank, when Neb's pony went downsuddenly, swept fairly off its legs by some fierce eddy in the stream. Keith heard the negro's guttural cry, and caught a glimpse of him as thetwo were sent whirling down. The coiled rope of the lariat, grasped inhis right hand, was hurled forth like a shot, but came back empty. Notanother sound reached him; his own horse went steadily on, feeling hisway, until he was nose against the bank, with water merely ripplingabout his ankles. Keith driving feet again into the stirrups headed himdown stream, wading close in toward the shore, leaning forward over thepommel striving to see through the gloom. 

He had no doubt about Neb's pony making land, unless struck by somedriftwood, or borne to the centre of the stream by the shifting force ofthe current. But if Neb had failed to retain his grip he might havebeen sucked under by the surge of waters. A hundred yards below he foundthem, dripping and weak from the struggle, yet otherwise unhurt. Therewere no words spoken, but black and white hands clasped silently, andthen Neb crept back into the saddle, shivering in his wet clothes as thecool night wind swept against him. Keeping close in toward shore, yetfar enough out so that the water would hide their trail, the fugitivestoiled steadily up stream, guided only by the black outline of the lowbank upon their left. 

Chapter VII. In the Sand Desert

Suddenly Keith halted, bringing his pony's head sharply about, so thatthe two faced one another. The wind was rising, hurling clouds of sandinto their eyes, and the plainsman held one hand before his face. 

"There's no need of keeping up a water trail any longer, " he saidquietly. "By all the signs we're in for a sand storm by daylight, andthat will cover our tracks so the devil himself couldn't follow them. Got a water bag on your saddle?"

"I reck'n dis am one, sah. "

Keith felt of the object Neb held forth. 

"Yes, and a big one, too; fill it and strap it on tight; we've got along, dry ride ahead. "

"Whar' yo' propose goin', Massa Jack?"

"To the 'Bar X' on the Canadian. I've worked with that outfit. They'llgive us whatever we need, and ask no questions; I don't know of anythingin between. It's going to be a hard ride, boy, and mighty little to eatexcept what I saved from supper. "

"How far am it to dis yere 'Bar X'?"

"A hundred and fifty miles as the crow flies, and sand all the way, except for the valley of Salt Fork. Come on now, and keep close, forit's easy to get lost in these sand hills. "

Keith had ridden that hundred and fifty miles of sandy desolationbefore, but had never been called upon to make such a journey as thisproved to be. He knew there was little to fear from human enemies, forthey were riding far enough east of the Santa Fé trail to be out of thepath of raiding parties, while this desert country was shunned by Indianhunters. It consisted of sand hill after sand hill, a drear waterlesswaste where nothing grew, and amid the dread sameness of which atraveller could only find passage by the guidance of stars at nightor the blazing sun by day. To the eye mile after mile appearedexactly alike, with nothing whatever to distinguish either distance ordirection--the same drifting ridges of sand stretching forth inevery direction, no summit higher than another, no semblance of greenshrubbery, or silver sheen of running water anywhere to break the dullmonotony--a vast sandy plain, devoid of life, extending to the horizon, overhung by a barren sky. 

They had covered ten miles of it by daybreak, their ponies travellingheavily, fetlock deep, but could advance no further. With the first tintof rose in the east the brooding storm burst upon them in wild desertfury, the fierce wind buffeting them back, lashing their faces withsharp grit until they were unable to bear the pain. The flying sandsmote them in clouds, driven with the speed of bullets. In vain they layflat, urging their ponies forward; the beasts, maddened and blinded bythe merciless lashing of the sand, refused to face the storm. Keith, all sense of direction long since lost, rolled wearily from the saddle, burrowed under the partial shelter of a sand dune, and called upon Nebto follow him. With their hands and feet they made a slight wind-break, dragging the struggling ponies into its protection, and burrowedthemselves there, the clouds of sand skurrying over them so thick asto obscure the sky, and rapidly burying them altogether as though in agrave. Within an hour they were compelled to dig themselves out, yet itproved partial escape from the pitiless lashing. The wind howled likeunloosed demons, and the air grew cold, adding to the sting of the grit, when some sudden eddy hurled it into their hiding place. To endeavorfurther travel would mean certain death, for no one could have guided acourse for a hundred feet through the tempest, which seemed to suck thevery breath away. To the fugitives came this comfort--if they could notadvance, then no one else could follow, and the storm was completelyblotting out their trail. 

It was three o'clock before it died sufficiently down for them toventure out. Even then the air remained full of sand, while constantlyshifting ridges made travel difficult. Only grim necessity--thesuffering of the ponies for water, and their own need for soon reachingthe habitation of man and acquiring food--drove them to the earlyventure. They must attain the valley of the Salt Fork that night, or else perish in the desert--there remained no other choice. Tyingneckerchiefs over their horses' eyes, and lying flat themselves, theysucceeded in pressing slowly forward, winding in and out among theshifting dunes, with only the wind to guide them. It was an awful trail, the hoofs sinking deep in drifting sand, the struggling ponies becomingso exhausted that their riders finally dismounted, and staggered forwardon foot, leading them stumbling blindly after. Once the negro's horsedropped, and had to be lashed to its feet again; once Keith's ponystumbled and fell on him, hurling him face down into the sand, and hewould have died there, lacking sufficient strength to lift the deadweight, but for Neb's assistance. As it was he went staggering blindlyforward, bruised, and faint from hunger and fatigue. Neither man spoke;they had no breath nor energy left to waste; every ounce of strengthneeded to be conserved for the battle against nature. They were fightingfor life; fighting grimly, almost hopelessly, and alone. 

About them night finally closed in, black and starless, yet fortunatelywith a gradual dying away of the storm. For an hour past they had beenstruggling on, doubting their direction, wondering dully if they werenot lost and merely drifting about in a circle. They had debated thisfiercely once, the ponies standing dejectedly, tails to the storm, Nebarguing that the wind still blew from the south, and Keith contendingit had shifted into the westward. The white man won his way, and theystaggered on uncertain, the negro grasping the first pony's tail to keepfrom being separated from his companion. Some instinct of the plainsmust have guided them, for at last they dragged themselves out from thedesert, the crunching sand under foot changing into rock, and then toshort brittle grass, at which the ponies nibbled eagerly. The slope ledgradually downward, the animals scenting water, and struggling to breakaway. Swaying in their saddles, the riders let them go, and they neverstopped until belly deep in the stream, their noses buried. Themen shivered in their saddles, until, at last satisfied, the poniesconsented to be forced back up the bank, where they nibbled at the shorttufts of herbage, but in a manner expressive of weariness. Keith flunghimself on the ground, every muscle of his body aching, his exposedflesh still smarting from the hail of sand through which they hadpassed. 

He had not the slightest conception as to where they were, excepthe knew this must be the Salt Fork. Utterly confused by the mazeof shifting dunes, through whose intricacies they had somehow foundpassage, the blackness of the night yielded no clue as to their pointof emergence. The volume of water in the stream alone suggested that intheir wanderings they must have drifted to the eastward, and come outmuch lower down than had been originally intended. If so, then theymight be almost directly south of Carson City, and in a section withwhich he was totally unacquainted. One thing was, however, certain--theywould be compelled to wait for daylight to ascertain the truth, anddecide upon their future movements. There was another barren, sandystretch of desolation lying between this isolated valley and that ofthe Canadian, and their horses would never stand to be pushed forwardwithout both rest and food. As to themselves--they had eaten theirlast crumb long since, but this was not the first time both had knownstarvation. 

Keith arose reluctantly, and removed the saddles from the animals, hobbling them so they could graze at will. Neb was propped up beneathan out-cropping of the bank, which partly protected him from the wind, amere hulk of a shadow. Keith could not tell whether he slept or not, butmade no effort to disturb him. A moment he stared vacantly about intothe black silence, and then lay down, pillowing his head upon a saddle. He found it impossible to sleep, the chill of the wind causing him toturn and twist, in vain search after comfort, while unappeased hungergnawed incessantly. His eyes ranged about over the dull gloom of theskies until they fell again to the earth level, and then he suddenly satup, half believing himself in a dream--down the stream, how far awayhe could not judge, there gleamed a steady, yellowish light. It was noflicker of a camp fire, yet remained stationary. Surely no star could beso low and large; nor did he recall any with that peculiarity of color. If such a miracle was possible in the heart of that sandy desert hewould have sworn it was a lamp shining through a window. But he hadnever heard of any settler on the Salt Fork, and almost laughed at thethought, believing for the instant his brain played him some elfishtrick. Yet that light was no illusion; he rubbed his eyes, only to seeit more clearly, convinced now of its reality. He strode hastily across, and shook Neb into semi-consciousness, dragging him bodily up the bankand pointing down stream. 

"Do you see that?" he inquired anxiously. "There, straight ahead ofyou?"

The negro stared, shaking with cold, and scarcely able to stand alone. 

"Maybe it am de moon, Massa Jack, " he muttered thickly, "or a goblin'slantern. Lawd, I don't jest like de looks ob dat ting. "

"Well, I do, " and Keith laughed uneasily at the negro's fears. "All Iwanted to know was if you saw what I saw. That's a lamp shining througha window, Neb. What in heaven's name it can be doing here I am unable toguess, but I'm going to find out. It means shelter and food, boy, evenif we have to fight for it. Come on, the horses are safe, and we'lldiscover what is behind that light yonder. "

Chapter VIII. The Wilderness Cabin

The light was considerably farther away than they had at first supposed, and as they advanced steadily toward it, the nature of the groundrapidly changed, becoming irregular, and littered with low growingshrubs. In the darkness they stumbled over outcroppings of rock, and after a fall or two, were compelled to move forward with extremecaution. But the mysterious yellow glow continually beckoned, and withnew hope animating the hearts of both men, they staggered on, nervingthemselves to the effort, and following closely along the bank of thestream. 

At last they arrived where they could perceive dimly something of thenature of this unexpected desert oasis. 

The light shone forth, piercing the night, through the uncurtainedwindow of a log cabin, which would otherwise have been completelyconcealed from view by a group of low growing cottonwoods. This was allthe black, enshrouding night revealed, and even this was merely madeapparent by the yellow illumination of the window. The cabin stood uponan island, a strip of sand, partially covered by water, separating itfrom the north shore on which they stood. There was no sign oflife about the hut, other than the burning lamp, but that alone wassufficient evidence of occupancy. In spite of hunger, and urgent need, Keith hesitated, uncertain as to what they might be called upon to face. Who could be living in this out-of-the-way spot, in the heart of thisinhospitable desert? It would be no cattle outpost surely, for there wasno surrounding grazing land, while surely no professional hunter wouldchoose such a barren spot for headquarters. Either a hermit, anxious toescape all intercourse with humanity, or some outlaw hiding from arrest, would be likely to select so isolated a place in which to live. To themit would be ideal. Away from all trails, where not even widely rovingcattlemen would penetrate, in midst of a desert avoided by Indiansbecause of lack of game, --a man might hide here year after year withoutdanger of discovery. Yet such a one would not be likely to welcome theircoming, and they were without arms. But Keith was not a man to hesitatelong because of possible danger, and he stepped down into the shallowwater. 

"Come on, Neb, " he commanded, "and we 'll find out who lives here. "

The window faced the west, and he came up the low bank to where thedoor fronted the north in intense darkness. Under the shadow of thecottonwoods he could see nothing, groping his way, with hands extended. His foot struck a flat stone, and he plunged forward, striking theunlatched door so heavily as to swing it open, and fell partiallyforward into the room. As he struggled to his knees, Neb's black facepeering past him into the lighted interior, he seemed to perceive in oneswift, comprehensive glance, every revealed detail. A lamp burned ona rudely constructed set of drawers near the window, and a wood fireblazed redly in a stone fireplace opposite, the yellow and red lightsblending in a peculiar glow of color. Under this radiance were revealedthe rough log walls, plastered with yellow clay, and hung about withthe skins of wild animals, a roughly made table, bare except for a booklying upon it, and a few ordinary appearing boxes, evidently utilized asseats, together with a barrel cut so as to make a comfortable chair. In the back wall was a door, partially open, apparently leading into asecond room. That was all, except the woman. 

Keith must have perceived all these in that first hurried glance, forthey were ever after closely associated together in his mind, yet at themoment he possessed no clear thought of anything except her. She stooddirectly behind the table, where she must have sprung hastily at thefirst sound of their approach, clutching at the rude mantel above thefireplace, and staring toward him, her face white, her breath coming insobs. At first he thought the vision a dream, a delirium born from hislong struggle; he could not conceive the possibility of such a presencein this lonely place, and staggering to his feet, gazed wildly, dumblyat the slender, gray clad figure, the almost girlish face under theshadowing dark hair, expecting the marvellous vision to vanish. Surelythis could not be real! A woman, and such a woman as this here, andalone, of all places! He staggered from weakness, almost terror, andgrasped the table to hold himself erect. The rising wind came swirlingin through the open door, causing the fire to send forth spirals ofsmoke, and he turned, dragging the dazed negro within, and snapping thelatch behind him. When he glanced around again he fully believed thevision confronting him would have vanished. But no! there she yetremained, those wide-open, frightened brown eyes, with long lashes halfhiding their depths, looking directly into his own; only now she hadslightly changed her posture, leaning toward him across the table. Likea flash he comprehended that this was reality--flesh and blood--and, with the swift instinct of a gentleman, his numbed, nerveless fingersjerked off his hat, and he bowed bareheaded before her. 

"Pardon me, " he said, finding his voice with difficulty. "I fell overthe step, but--but I didn't expect to find a woman here. "

He heard her quick breathing, marked a slight change in the expressionof the dark eyes, and caught the glitter of the firelight on a revolverin her lowered hand. 

"What did you expect to find?"

"I hardly knew, " he explained lamely; "we stumbled on this hut byaccident. I didn't know there was a cabin in all this valley. "

"Then you are not here for any purpose? to meet with any one?"

"No; we were lost, and had gone into camp up above, when we discoveredyour light. "

"Where do you come from?"

Keith hesitated just an instant, yet falsehood was never easy for him, and he saw no occasion for any deceit now. 

"Carson City. "

"What brought you here?"

"We started for the 'Bar X' Ranch down below, on the Canadian; gotcaught in a sand-storm, and then just drifted. I do not know withintwenty miles of where we are. "

She drew a deep breath of unconcealed relief. 

"Are you alone?"

"The negro and I--yes; and you haven't the slightest reason to be afraidof us--we're square. "

She looked at him searchingly, and something in Keith's clean-cut faceseemed to bring reassurance, confidence in the man. 

"I am not afraid, " she answered, coming toward him around the shorttable. "Only it is so lonely here, and you startled me, bursting inwithout warning. But you look all right, and I am going to believe yourstory. What is your name?"

"Keith--Jack Keith. "

"A cowman?"

"A little of everything, I reckon, " a touch of returning bitternessin the tone. "A plainsman, who has punched cattle, but my last job wasgovernment scout. "

"You look as though you might be more than that, " she said slowly. 

The man flushed, his lips pressing tightly together. "Well, I--I mayhave been, " he confessed unwillingly. "I started out all right, butsomehow I reckon I just went adrift. It's a habit in this country. "

Apparently those first words of comment had left her lips unthinkingly, for she made no attempt to reply; merely stood there directly facinghim, her clear eyes gazing frankly into his own. He seemed to actuallysee her now for the first time, fairly--a supple, slender figure, simplydressed, with wonderfully excessive brown eyes, a perfect wealth ofdark hair, a clear complexion with slight olive tinge to it, a strong, intelligent face, not strictly beautiful, yet strangely attractive, theforehead low and broad, the nose straight, the lips full and inclined tosmile. Suddenly a vague remembrance brought recognition. 

"Why, I know you now. "

"Indeed!" the single word a note of undisguised surprise. 

"Yes; I thought you looked oddly familiar all the time, but couldn't forthe life of me connect up. You're Christie Maclaire. "

"Am I?" her eyes filled with curiosity. 

"Of course you are. You needn't be afraid of me if you want it keptsecret, but I know you just the same. Saw you at the 'Gaiety' inIndependence, maybe two months ago. I went three times, mostly on youraccount. You've got a great act, and you can sing too. "

She stood in silence, still looking fixedly at him, her bosom risingand falling, her lips parted as if to speak. Apparently she did not knowwhat to do, how to act, and was thinking swiftly. 

"Mr. Keith, " she said, at last in decision, "I am going to ask you toblot that all out--to forget that you even suspect me of being ChristieMaclaire, of the Gaiety. "

"Why, certainly; but would you explain?"

"There is little enough to explain. It is sufficient that I am herealone with you. Whether I wish to or not, I am compelled to trust myselfto your protection. You may call me Christie Maclaire, or anything elseyou please; you may even think me unworthy respect, but you possess theface of a gentleman, and as such I am going to trust you--I must trustyou. Will you accept my confidence on these terms?"

Keith did not smile, nor move. Weak from hunger and fatigue, he leanedwearily against the wall. Nevertheless that simple, womanly appeal awokeall that was strong and sacrificing within him, although her words wereso unexpected that, for the moment, he failed to realize their fullpurport. Finally he straightened up. 

"I--I accept any terms you desire, " he gasped weakly, "if--if you willonly give one return. "

"One return?--what?"

"Food; we have eaten nothing for sixty hours. " Her face, which had beenso white, flushed to the hair, her dark eyes softening. 

"Why, of course; sit down. I ought to have known from your face. Thereis plenty here--such as it is--only you must wait a moment. "

Chapter IX. The Girl of the Cabin

He saw Neb drop down before the blazing fireplace, and curl up like atired dog, and observed her take the lamp, open the door into the otherroom a trifle, and slip silently out of sight. He remembered staringvaguely about the little room, still illumined by the flames, only halfcomprehending, and then the reaction from his desperate struggle withthe elements overcame all resolution, and he dropped his head forwardon the table, and lost consciousness. Her hand upon his shoulder arousedhim, startled into wakefulness, yet he scarcely realized the situation. 

"I have placed food for the negro beside him, " she said quietly, and forthe first time Keith detected the soft blur in her speech. 

"You are from the South!" he exclaimed, as though it was a discovery. 

"Yes--and you?"

"My boyhood began in Virginia--the negro was an old-time slave in ourfamily. "

She glanced across at the black, now sitting up and eating voraciously. 

"I thought he had once been a slave; one can easily tell that. I didnot ask him to sit here because, if you do not object, we will eat heretogether. I have also been almost as long without food. It was so lonelyhere, and--and I hardly understood my situation--and I simply could notforce myself to eat. "

He distinguished her words clearly enough, although she spoke low, asif she preferred what was said between them should not reach the ears ofthe negro, yet somehow, for the moment, they made no adequate impressionon him. Like a famished wolf he began on the coarse fare, and for tenminutes hardly lifted his head. Then his eyes chanced to meet hersacross the narrow table, and instantly the gentleman within him reawoketo life. 

"I have been a perfect brute, " he acknowledged frankly, "with no thoughtexcept for myself. Hunger was my master, and I ask your forgiveness, Miss Maclaire. "

Her eyes smiled. 

"I am so very glad to have any one here--any one--in whom I feel even alittle confidence--that nothing else greatly matters. Can you both eat, and listen?"

Keith nodded, his eyes full of interest, searching her face. 

"Whoever I may be, Mr. Keith, and really that seems only of smallimportance, I came to Fort Larned seeking some trace of my onlybrother, whom we last heard from there, where he had fallen into evilcompanionship. On the stage trip I was fortunate enough to form anacquaintance with a man who told me he knew where I could meet Fred, but that the boy was hiding because of some trouble he had lately gotteninto, and that I should have to proceed very carefully so as not to leadthe officers to discover his whereabouts. This gentleman was engaged insome business at Carson City, but he employed a man to bring me to thisplace, and promised to get Fred, and meet me here the following day. There must have been some failure in the plans, for I have been hereentirely alone now for three days. It has been very lonesome, and--andI've been a little frightened. Perhaps I ought not to have come, and Iam not certain what kind of a place this is. I was so afraid when youcame, but I am not afraid now. "

"You have no need to be, " he said soberly, impressed by the innocentcandor of the girl, and feeling thankful that he was present to aid her. "I could not wrong one of the South. "

"My father always told me I could trust a Southern gentleman under anycircumstance. Mr. Hawley was from my own State, and knew many of our oldfriends. That was why I felt such unusual confidence in him, although hewas but a travelling acquaintance. "

"Mr. Hawley?"

"The gentleman whom I met on the stage. "

"Oh, yes; you said he was in business in Carson City, but I don't seemto remember any one of that name. "

"He was not there permanently; only to complete some business deal. "

"And your brother? I may possibly have known him. "

She hesitated an instant, her eyes dropping, until completely shaded bythe long lashes. 

"He--he was rather a wild boy, and ran away from home to enlist in thearmy. But he got into a bad set, and--and deserted. That was part ofthe trouble which caused him to hide. He enlisted under the name of FredWilloughby. Mr. Hawley told me this much, but I am afraid he did nottell me all. "

"And he said you would meet him here?"

Keith gazed about on the bare surroundings wonderingly. What was thisplace, hidden away in the midst of the desert, isolated in a spot wherenot even Indians roamed. Could it be a secret rendezvous of crime, theheadquarters of desperadoes, of cattle-rustlers, of highwaymen of theSanta Fé Trail--a point to which they could ride when hard pressed, certain of hiding here in safety? He began to suspect this, but, if so, who then was this Hawley, and with what object had he sent this girlhere? Every way he turned was to confront mystery, to face a new puzzle. Whatever she might be--even the music hall singer he believed--she hadbeen inveigled here innocently enough. Even now she possessed only themost vague suspicion that she had been deceived. The centre of the wholeplot, if there was a plot, must be Hawley. 

"Yes, " she replied, "he said that this was one of the stations of a bigranch on which Fred was employed, and that he would certainly be herewithin a day or two. "

"You met Hawley on the stage coach? How did you become acquainted?"

"We were alone for nearly fifty miles, " her voice faltering slightly, "and--and he called me what you did. "

"Christie Maclaire?"

"Yes; he--he seemed to think he knew me, and I needed help so much thatI let him believe so. I thought it could do no harm, and then, when Ifound he actually knew Fred, I didn't think of anything else, only howfortunate I was to thus meet him. Surely something serious must havehappened, or he would have been here before this. Do you--do you supposethere is anything wrong?"

Keith did not smile nor change posture. The more he delved into thematter, the more serious he felt the situation to be. He knew all thoseranches lying south on the Canadian, and was aware that this was noout-station. No cattle ever came across that sandy desert unless drivenby rustlers, and no honest purpose could account for this isolated hut. There had been frequent robberies along the trail, and he had overheardtales of mysterious disappearances in both Larned and Carson City. Couldit be that he had now, accidentally, stumbled upon the rendezvous of thegang? He was not a man easily startled, but this thought sent his heartbeating. He knew enough to realize what such a gang would naturallyconsist of--deserters, outlaws, rustlers; both Indians and whites, nodoubt, combined under some desperate leadership. Gazing into the girl'squestioning eyes he could scarcely refrain from blurting out all hesuspected. Yet why should he? What good could it do? He could not hopeto bear her south to the "Bar X" Ranch, for the ponies were already toothoroughly exhausted for such a journey; he dared not turn north withher, for that would mean his own arrest, leaving her in worse conditionthan ever. If he only knew who this man Hawley was, his purpose, andplans! Yet what protection could he and Neb prove, alone here, andwithout arms? All this flashed through his mind in an instant, leavinghim confused and uncertain. 

"I hope not, " he managed to say in answer to her query. "But it israther a strange mix-up all around, and I confess I fail to comprehendits full meaning. It is hardly likely your friends will show upto-night, and by morning perhaps we can decide what is best to do. Letme look around outside a moment. "

Her eyes followed him as he stepped through the door into the darkness;then her head dropped into the support of her hands. There was silenceexcept for the crackling of the fire, until Neb moved uneasily. At thesound the girl looked up, seeing clearly the good-natured face of thenegro. 

"Yo' don't nebber need cry, Missus, " he said soberly, "so long as MassaJack done 'greed to look after yo'. "

"Have--have you known him long?"

"Has I knowed him long, honey? Ebber sence befo' de wah. Why I doneknowed Massa Jack when he wan't more'n dat high. Lawd, he sho' was alively youngster, but mighty good hearted to us niggers. "

She hesitated to question a servant, and yet felt she must uncover thetruth. 

"Who is he? Is he all he claims to be--a Virginia gentleman?"

All the loyalty and pride of slavery days was in Neb. "He sho' am, Missus; dar ain't nuthin' higher in ol' Virginia dan de Keiths. Deyain't got much money sence the Yankees come down dar, but dey's qualityfolks jest de same. I was done born on de ol' Co'nel's plantation, and Ireck'n dar wan't no finer man ebber libed. He was done killed in de wah. An' Massa Jack he was a captain; he rode on hossback, an' Lawdy, but hedid look scrumptuous when he first got his uniform. He done fought allthrough de wah, an' dey say Ginral Lee done shook hands wid him, an'said how proud he was ter know him. You kin sutt'nly tie to Massa Jack, Missus. "

The negro's voice had scarcely ceased when Keith came in again, closingthe door securely behind him. 

"All quiet outside, " he announced, speaking with new confidence. "I wanted to get an understanding of the surroundings in case ofemergency, " he explained, as if in answer to the questioning of thebrown eyes gravely uplifted to his face. "I see there is quite a corralat the lower end of this island, safely hidden behind the fringe ofcottonwoods. And a log stable back of the house. Is the creek fordableboth ways?"

"I think so; the man who brought me here rode away south. "

"And are you going to trust yourself to my care?"

She came around the table with hands extended. He took them into hisgrasp, looking down into her eyes. 

"Yes, " she said softly, "I am going to trust you, Captain Keith. "

He laughed. 

"Captain, hey? You must have been talking with that black rascal there. "

The swift color flooded her face, but her hands remained imprisoned. 

"I just done tol' her who de Keiths was down in ol' Virginia, sah, "burst in Neb indignantly. "I sho' don't want nobody to think I gotrapsin' 'round wid any low white trash. "

The gray eyes and the brown, gazing into one another, smiled withunderstanding. 

"Oh, well, " Keith acknowledged, genially, "I cannot say I am sorry youknow something of my past glories; if one can't have a future, it issome source of pride to have a past to remember. But now about thepresent. We're not much protection to any one, the way we're fixed, aswe are unarmed. "

"There is a big revolver hanging in a holster in the other room, " sheanswered, "and a short, sawed-off gun of some kind, but I don't knowabout ammunition. "

"May we investigate?"

"Most certainly, " and she threw open the intervening door. As the twostepped into the other apartment she held the lamp in aid of theirsearch. "There is the revolver on the wall, and the gun is in theopposite corner. Isn't it strange you should be out in this countrywithout arms?"

Keith glanced up, the revolver in his hands. The radiance of the lightwas full upon her face, revealing the clearness of her skin, the darkshadows of her lashes. There was the faintest tinge of suspicion to thequestion, but he answered easily. 

"We left Carson in something of a hurry. I'll tell you the storyto-morrow. "

Chapter X. Mr. Hawley Reveals Himself

A fragment of candle, stuck tightly into the neck of an empty bottle, appeared on a low shelf, and Keith lighted it, the girl returning thelamp to its former position on the front room table. Investigationrevealed a dozen cartridges fitting the revolver, but no ammunitionwas discovered adapted to the sawed-off gun, which Neb had alreadyappropriated, and was dragging about with him, peering into each blackcorner in anxious search. The two were still busily employed at this, when to their ears, through the stillness of the night, there came theunexpected noise of splashing in the water without, and then the soundof a horse stumbling as he struck the bank. Quick as a flash Keithclosed the intervening door, extinguished the dim flame of the candle, and grasping the startled negro's arm, hushed him into silence. 

Crouching close behind the door, through a crack of which the lightstreamed, yielding slight view of the interior, the plainsman anxiouslyawaited developments. These arrivals must certainly be some of thoseconnected with the house; there could be little doubt as to that. Nevertheless, they might prove the posse following them, who had chancedto stumble accidentally on their retreat. In either case they couldmerely wait, and learn. Some one swore without, and was sharply rebukedby another voice, which added an order gruffly. Then the outer latchclicked, and a single man stepped within, immediately closing the door. Keith could not see the girl through the small aperture, but he heardher quick exclamation, startled, yet full of relief. 

"Oh, is it you? I am so glad!"

The man laughed lightly. 

"It is nice to be welcomed, although, perhaps, after your time ofloneliness any arrival would prove a relief. Did you think I was nevercoming, Christie?"

"I could not understand, " she replied, evidently with much lessenthusiasm, and to Keith's thinking, a shade resentful of thefamiliarity, "but naturally supposed you must be unexpectedly delayed. "

"Well, I was, " and he apparently flung both coat and hat on a bench, with the intention of remaining, "The marshal arrested a fellow fora murder committed out on the Santa Fé Trail, and required me as awitness. But the man got away before we had any chance to try him, and Ihave been on his trail ever since. "

"A murder! Did you imagine he came this way?"

"Not very likely; fact of it is, the sand storm yesterday destroyed alltraces, and, as a result, we've lost him. So I headed a few of the boysover in this direction, as I wanted to relieve you of anxiety. "

She was silent an instant, and the man crossed to the fireplace, whereKeith could gain a glimpse of him. Already suspicious from the familiarsound of his voice, he was not surprised to recognize "Black Bart. " Theplainsman's fingers gripped the negro's arm, his eyes burning. So thisgambler and blackleg was the gentlemanly Mr. Hawley, was he; well, whatcould be his little game? Why had he inveigled the girl into this lonelyspot? And what did he now propose doing with her? As he crouched there, peering through that convenient crack in the door, Keith completelyforgot his own peril, intent only upon this new discovery. She cameslowly around the end of the table, and stood leaning against it, herface clearly revealed in the light of the lamp. For the first timeKeith really perceived its beauty, its fresh charm. Could such as shebe singer and dancer in a frontier concert hall? And if so, what strangeconditions ever drove her into that sort of life?

"Is--is Fred with you?" she questioned, doubtfully. 

"No; he's with another party riding farther west, " the man's eyessurveying her with manifest approval. "You are certainly looking fineto-night, my girl. It's difficult to understand how I ever managed tokeep away from you so long. "

She flushed to the hair, her lips trembling at the open boldness of histone. 

"I--I prefer you would not speak like that, " she protested. 

"And why not?" with a light laugh. "Come, Christie, such fine airs are atrifle out of place. If I didn't know you were a concert hall artist, I might be more deeply impressed. As it is, I reckon you've heard lovewords before now. "

"Mr. Hawley, I have trusted you as a gentleman. I never came here excepton your promise to bring me to my brother, " and she stood erect beforehim. "You have no right to even assume that I am Christie Maclaire. "

"Sure not; I don't assume. I have seen that lady too often to bemistaken. Don't try on that sort of thing with me--I don't take to itkindly. Perhaps a kiss might put you in better humor. "

He took a step forward, as though proposing to carry out his threat, butthe girl stopped him, her eyes burning with indignation. 

"How dare you!" she exclaimed passionately, all fear leaving her insudden resentment. "You think me alone here and helpless; that you caninsult me at your pleasure. Don't go too far, Mr. Hawley. I know whatyou are now, and it makes no difference what you may think of me, orcall me; you 'll find me perfectly able to defend myself. "

"Oh, indeed!" sneeringly, "you are melodramatic; you should have been anactress instead of a singer. But you waste your talent out here on me. Do you imagine I fear either you, or your precious brother? Why, I couldhave him hung to-morrow. "

She was staring at him with wide open eyes, her face white. 

"What--what do you mean? What has Fred done?"

He was cold and sarcastic. 

"That makes no difference; it is what I could induce men to swear he haddone. It's easy enough to convict in this country, if you only know how. I simply tell you this, so you won't press me too hard. Puritanismis out of place west of the Missouri, especially among ladies of yourprofession. Oh, come, now, Christie, don't try to put such airs on withme. I know who you are, all right, and can guess why you are huntingafter Fred Willoughby. I pumped the boy, and got most of the truth outof him. "

"You--you have seen him, then, since you left me, " she faltered, bewildered, "and didn't bring him here with you?"

"Why should I?" and the man stepped forward, his eyes on her, his handstwitching with a desire to clasp her to him, yet restrained by someundefinable power. "While I believed your brother story, I could haveplayed the good Samaritan most beautifully, but after I talked withWilloughby I prefer him at a distance. "

"My brother story! Do you mean to insinuate you doubt his being mybrother? He told you that?"

"He gave up the whole trick. You can't trust a kid like that, Christie. A couple of drinks will loosen his tongue, and put you in wrong. Come, now, I know it all; be reasonable. "

Apparently the girl had lost her power of speech, staring blindly atthe face of the man before her, as a bird meets the slow approach ofa snake. Keith could see her lips move, but making no sound. Hawleyevidently interpreted her silence as hesitation, doubt as to his realmeaning. 

"You see where you are at now, Christie, " he went on swiftly. "But youdon't need to be afraid. I'm going to be a friend to you, and you canbe mighty glad you got rid of Willoughby so easily. Why, I can buy youdiamonds where he couldn't give you a calico dress. Come on, let's stopthis foolishness. I took a liking to you back there in the stage, andthe more I've thought about you since the crazier I've got. When Isucceeded in pumping Willoughby dry, and discovered you wasn't hissister at all, why that settled the matter. I came down here after you. I love you, do you understand that? And, what's more, I intend to haveyou!"

He reached out, and actually grasped her, but, in some manner, she toreloose, and sprang back around the end of the table, her cheeks flushed, her eyes burning. 

"Don't touch me! don't dare touch me!" she panted. "You lie; FredWilloughby never told you that. If you come one step nearer, I'llscream; I'll call your men here; I'll tell them the kind of a cur youare. "

He laughed, leaning over toward her, yet hesitating, his eyes full ofadmiration. Her very fierceness appealed to him, urged him on. 

"Oh, I wouldn't! In the first place they probably wouldn't hear, forthey are camped down in the corral. I suspected you might be somethingof a tigress, and preferred to fight it out with you alone. Then, evenif they did hear, there would be no interference--I've got those fellowstrained too well for that. Come on, Christie; you're helpless here. "

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are. "

He took a step toward her, his hands flung out. With one quick movementshe sprang aside and extinguished the lamp, plunging the room intoinstant darkness. A few red coals glowed dully in the fireplace, butall else was dense blackness. Keith heard the movements of Hawley, as hefelt his way uncertainly along the table, swearing as he failed to findthe girl. Then, like a shadow, he glided through the partly open doorinto the room. 

Chapter XI. The Fight in the Dark

Had the room been filled with men Keith could have restrained himselfno longer. Whatever her past might be, this woman appealed to himstrangely; he could not believe evil of her; he would have died ifneed be in her defence. But as it was, the ugly boast of Hawley gaveconfidence in the final outcome of this struggle in the dark, evena possibility of escape for them all. The gambler, assured of beingconfronted merely by a frail and not over-scrupulous woman, hadventured there alone; had stationed his men beyond sound; had doubtlessinstructed them to ignore any noise of struggle which they mightoverhear within. It was these very arrangements for evil which nowafforded opportunity, and Keith crept forward, alert and ready, histeeth clenched, his hands bare for contest. Even although he surprisedhis antagonist, it was going to be a fight for life; he knew "BlackBart, " broad-shouldered, quick as a cat, accustomed to every form ofphysical exercise, desperate and tricky, using either knife or gunrecklessly. Yet it was now or never for all of them, and the plainsmanfelt no mercy, experienced no reluctance. He reached the table, andstraightened up, silent, expectant. For an instant there was no furthersound; no evidence of movement in the room. Hawley, puzzled by thesilence, was listening intently in an endeavor to thus locate the girlthrough some rustling, some slight motion. A knife, knocked from thetable, perhaps, as she slipped softly past, fell clattering to thefloor, and the gambler leaped instantly forward. Keith's grip closedlike iron on his groping arm, while he shot one fist out toward wherethe man's head should be. The blow glanced, yet drove the fellowbackward, stumbling against the table, and Keith closed in, grapplingfor the throat. The other, startled by the unexpected attack, andscarcely realizing even yet the nature of his antagonist, struggledblindly to escape the fingers clawing at him, and flung one hand down tothe knife in his belt. Warned by the movement, the assailant drovehis head into the gambler's chest, sending him crashing to the floor, falling himself heavily upon the prostrate body. Hawley gave utteranceto one cry, half throttled in his throat, and then the two grappledfiercely, so interlocked together as to make weapons useless. Whoeverthe assailant might be, the gambler was fully aware by now that hewas being crushed in the grasp of a fighting man, and exerted everywrestler's trick, every ounce of strength, to break free. Twice hestruggled to his knees, only to be crowded backward by relentless power;once he hurled Keith sideways, but the plainsman's muscles stiffenedinto steel, and he gradually regained his position. Neither daredrelease a grip in order to strike a blow: neither had sufficient breathleft with which to utter a sound. They were fighting for life, silently, desperately, like wild beasts, with no thought but to injure the other. The gambler's teeth sank into Keith's arm, and the latter in returnjammed the man's head back onto the puncheon floor viciously. Perspiration streamed from their bodies, their fingers clutching, theirlimbs wrapped together, their muscles strained to the utmost. Keith hadforgotten the girl, the negro, everything, dominated by the one passionto conquer. He was swept by a storm of hatred, a desire to kill. Intheir fierce struggle the two had rolled close to the fireplace, and inthe dull glow of the dying embers, he could perceive a faint outline ofthe man's face. The sight added flame to his mad passion, yet hecould do nothing except to cling to him, jabbing his fingers into thestraining throat. 

The negro ended the affair in his own way, clawing blindly at thecombatants in the darkness, and finally, determining which was theenemy, he struck the gambler with the stock of his gun, laying him outunconscious. Keith, grasping the table, hauled himself to his feet, gasping for breath, certain only that Hawley was no longer struggling. For an instant all was blank, a mist of black vapor; then a realizationof their situation came back in sudden flood of remembrance. Even yet hecould see nothing, but felt the motionless figure at his feet. 

"Quick, " he urged, the instant he could make himself speak. "The fellowis only stunned; we must tie and gag him. Is that you, Neb? Where is thegirl?"

"I am here, Captain Keith, " and he heard the soft rustle of her dressacross the room. "What is it I may do?"

"A coil of rope, or some straps, with a piece of cloth; anything you canlay hands on. "

She was some moments at it, confused by the darkness, and Hawley movedslightly, his labored breathing growing plainly perceptible. Keith heardher groping toward him, and held out his hands. She started as he thusunexpectedly touched her, yet made no effort to break away. 

"You--you frightened me a little, " she confessed. "This has all happenedso quickly I hardly realize yet just what has occurred. "

"The action has only really begun, " he assured her, still retaining hishold upon her hand. "This was merely a preliminary skirmish, and youmust prepare to bear your part in what follows. We have settled Mr. Hawley for the present, and now must deal with his gang. "

"Oh, what would I have done if you had not been here?"

"Let us not think about that; we were here, and now have a busy nightbefore us if we get away safely. Give me the rope first. Good! Here, Neb, you must know how to use this, --not too tight, but without leavingany play to the arms; take the knife out of his belt. Now for the cloth, Miss Maclaire. "

"Please do not call me that!"

"But you said it didn't make any difference what I called you. "

"I thought it didn't then, but it does now. "

"Oh, I see; we are already on a new footing. Yet I must call yousomething. "

She hesitated just long enough for him to notice it. Either she had nosubstitute ready at hand, or else doubted the advisability of confidingher real name under present circumstances to one so nearly a stranger. 

"You may call me Hope. "

"A name certainly of good omen, " he returned. "From this moment I shallforget Christie Maclaire, and remember only Miss Hope. All right, Neb;now turn over a chair, and sit your man up against it. He will rest allthe easier in that position until his gang arrive. "

He thrust his head out of the door, peering cautiously forth into thenight, and listening. A single horse, probably the one Hawley had beenriding, was tied to a dwarfed cottonwood near the corner of the cabin. Nothing else living was visible. 

"I am going to round up our horses, and learn the condition of Hawley'soutfit, " he announced in a low voice. "I may be gone for fifteen ortwenty minutes, and, meanwhile, Miss Hope, get ready for a long ride. Neb, stand here close beside the door, and if any one tries to come inbrain him with your gun-stock. I'll rap three times when I return. "

He slipped out into the silent night, and crept cautiously around theend of the dark cabin. The distinct change in the girl's attitude offriendship toward him, her very evident desire that he should think wellof her, together with the providential opportunity for escape, had lefthim full of confidence. The gambler had played blindly into their hands, and Keith was quick enough to accept the advantage. It was a risk tohimself, to be sure, thus turning again to the northward, yet the clearduty he owed the girl left such a choice almost imperative. He certainlycould not drag her along with him on his flight into the wild Comanchecountry extending beyond the Canadian. She must, at the very least, be first returned to the protection of the semi-civilization along theArkansas. After that had been accomplished, he would consider his ownsafety. He wondered if Hope really was her name, and whether it was thefamily cognomen, or her given name. That she was Christie Maclaire hehad no question, yet that artistic embellishment was probably merelyassumed for the work of the concert hall. Both he and Hawley couldscarcely be mistaken as to her identity in this respect, and, indeed, she had never openly denied the fact. Yet she did not at all seem to bethat kind, and Keith mentally contrasted her with numerous otherswhom he had somewhat intimately known along the border circuit. Itwas difficult to associate her with that class; she must have comeoriginally from some excellent family East, and been driven to thelife by necessity; she was more to be pitied than blamed. Keith held nopuritanical views of life--his own experiences had been too rough anddemocratic for that--yet he clung tenaciously to an ideal of womanhoodwhich could not be lowered. However interested he might otherwise feel, no Christie Maclaire could ever find entrance into the deeps of hisheart, where dwelt alone the memory of his mother. 

He found the other horses turned into the corral, and was able, fromtheir restless movements, to decide they numbered eight. A fire, nearlyextinguished, glowed dully at the farther corner of the enclosure, and he crawled close enough to distinguish the recumbent forms of mensleeping about it on the ground. Apparently no guard had been set, thefellows being worn out from their long ride, and confident of safety inthis isolated spot. Besides, Hawley had probably assumed that duty, andtold them to get whatever sleep they could. However, the gate of thecorral opened beside their fire, and Keith dare not venture upon ropingany of their ponies, or leading them out past where they slept. Theremight be clippers in the cabin with which he could cut the wires, yet ifone of the gang awoke, and discovered the herd absent, it would resultin an alarm, and lead to early pursuit. It was far safer to use theirown ponies. He would lead Hawley's horse quietly through the water, andthey could mount on the other shore. This plan settled, he went at itswiftly, riding the captured animal while rounding up the others, andfastening the three to stunted trees on the opposite bank. Everythingwithin the cabin remained exactly as he had left it, and he brieflyexplained the situation, examining Hawley's bonds again carefully whiledoing so. 

"He'll remain there all right until his men find him, " he declared, positively, "and that ought to give us a good six hours' start. Come, Miss Hope, every minute counts now. "

He held her arm, not unconscious of its round shapeliness, as he helpedher down the rather steep bank through the dense gloom. Then the two menjoined hands, and carrying her easily between them, waded the shallowstream. The horses, not yet sufficiently rested to be frisky, acceptedtheir burdens meekly enough, and, with scarcely a word spoken, the threerode away silently into the gloom of the night. 

Chapter XII. Through the Night Shadows

Keith had very little to guide him, as he could not determine whetherthis mysterious cabin on the Salt Fork lay to east or west of theusual cattle trail leading down to the Canadian. Yet he felt reasonablyassured that the general trend of the country lying between the smallerstream and the valley of the Arkansas would be similar to that withwhich he was already acquainted. It was merely a wild stretch of sandydesolation, across which their horses would leave scarcely any trail, and even that little would be quickly obliterated by the first puff ofwind. As they drew in toward the river valley this plain would changeinto sand dunes, baffling and confusing, but no matter how hard theypressed forward, it must be daylight long before they could hopeto reach these, and this would give him opportunity to spy out somefamiliar landmark which would guide them to the ford. Meanwhile, he musthead as directly north as possible, trusting the horses to find footing. 

It was plains instinct, or rather long training in the open, whichenabled him to retain any true sense of direction, for beyond the narrowfringe of cotton-woods along the stream, nothing was visible, the eyesscarcely able even to distinguish where earth and sky met. They advancedacross a bare level, without elevation or depression, yet the sandappeared sufficiently solid, so that their horses were forced into aswinging lope, and they seemed to fairly press aside the black curtain, which as instantly swung shut once more, and closed them in. Thepounding hoofs made little noise, and they pressed steadily onward, closely bunched together, so as not to lose each other, dim, spectralshadows flitting through the night, a very part of that grim desolationsurrounding them. No one of the three felt like speaking; the gloomy, brooding desert oppressed them, their vagrant thoughts assuming thetinge of their surroundings; their hope centred on escape. Keith rode, grasping the rein of the woman's horse in his left hand, and bendinglow in vain effort at picking a path. He had nothing to aim toward, yetsturdy confidence in his expert plainscraft yielded him sufficient senseof direction. He had noted the bark of the cottonwoods, the direction ofthe wind, and steered a course accordingly straight northward, alert toavert any variation. 

The girl rode easily, although in a man's saddle, the stirrups muchtoo long. Keith glanced aside with swift approval at the erectness withwhich she sat, the loosened rein in her hand, the slight swaying of herform. He could appreciate horsemanship, and the easy manner in whichshe rode relieved him of one anxiety. It even caused him to break thesilence. 

"You are evidently accustomed to riding, Miss Hope. "

She glanced across at him through the darkness, as though suddenlysurprised from thought, her words not coming quickly. 

"I cannot remember when I first mounted a horse; in earliest childhood, surely, although I have not ridden much of late. This one is like arocking chair. "

"He belonged to your friend, Mr. Hawley. "

She drew a quick breath, her face again turned forward. 

"Who--who is that man? Do you know?"

"I possess a passing acquaintance, " he answered, uncertain yet how muchto tell her, but tempted to reveal all in test of her real character. "Few do not who live along the Kansas border. "

"Do you mean he is a notoriously bad character?"

"I have never heard of his being held up as a model to the young, MissHope, " he returned more soberly, convinced that she truly possessedno real knowledge regarding the man, and was not merely pretendinginnocence. "I had never heard him called Hawley before, and, therefore, failed to recognize him under that respectable name. But I knew hisvoice the moment he entered the cabin, and realized that some devilmentwas afoot. Every town along this frontier has his record, and I've methim maybe a dozen times in the past three years. He is known as 'BlackBart'; is a gambler by profession, a desperado by reputation, and a curby nature. Just now I suspect him of being even deeper in the mire thanthis. "

He could tell by the quick clasping of her hands on the pommel of thesaddle the effect of his words, but waited until the silence compelledher to speak. 

"Oh, I didn't know! You do not believe that I ever suspected such athing? That I ever met him there understanding who he was?"

"No, I do not, " he answered. "What I overheard between you convinced meyou were the victim of deceit. But your going to that place alone was amost reckless act. "

She lifted her hand to her eyes, her head drooping forward. 

"Wasn't it what he told me--the out-station of a ranch?"

"No; I have ridden this country for years, and there is no ranchpasturing cattle along the Salt Fork. Miss Hope, I want you tocomprehend what it is you have escaped from; what you are now fleeingfrom. Within the last two years an apparently organized body of outlawshave been operating throughout this entire region. Oftentimes disguisedas Indians, they have terrorized the Santa Fé trail for two hundredmiles, killing travellers in small parties, and driving off stock. Thereare few ranches as far west as this, but these have all suffered fromraids. These fellows have done more to precipitate the present Indianwar than any act of the savages. They have endeavored to make theauthorities believe that Indians were guilty of their deeds of murderand robbery. Both troops and volunteers have tried to hold the gang up, but they scatter and disappear, as though swallowed by the desert. Ihave been out twice, hard on their trail, only to come back baffled. Now, I think accident has given me the clue. "

She straightened up; glancing questioningly at him through the darkness. 

"That is what I mean, Miss Hope. I suspect that cabin to be therendezvous of those fellows, and I half believe Hawley to be theirleader. "

"Then you will report all this to the authorities?"

He smiled grimly, his lips compressed. 

"I hardly think so; at least, not for the present. I am notblood-thirsty, or enamored of man-hunting, but I happen to have apersonal interest in this particular affair which I should prefer tosettle alone. " He paused, swiftly reviewing the circumstances of theirshort acquaintance, and as suddenly determining to trust her discretion. Deep down in his heart he rather wanted her to know. "The fact of thematter is, that Neb and I here were the ones that particular posse weretrailing. "

"You!" her voice faltered. "He said those men were under arrest formurder, and had broken jail. "

"He also said it was easy to convict men in this country if you onlyknew how. It is true we broke jail, but only in order to save our lives;it was the only way. Technically, we are outlaws, and now run the riskof immediate re-arrest by returning north of the Arkansas. We came toyou fugitives; I was charged with murder, the negro with assault. So, you see, Miss Hope, the desperate class of men you are now associatingwith. "

The slight bitterness in his tone stung the girl into resentment. Shewas looking straight at him, but in the gloom he could not discern theexpression of her eyes. 

"I don't believe it, " she exclaimed decisively, "you--you do not looklike that!"

"My appearance may be sufficient to convince you, " he returned, ratherdryly, "but would weigh little before a Western court. Unfortunately, the evidence was strong against me; or would have been had the case evercome to a trial. The strange thing about it was that both warrantswere sworn out by the same complainant, and apparently for a similarpurpose--'Black Bart' Hawley. "

"What purpose?"

"To keep us from telling what we knew regarding a certain crime, in which either he, or some of his intimate friends, were deeplyinterested. "

"But it would all come out at the trial, wouldn't it?"

"There was to be no trial; Judge Lynch settles the majority of suchcases out here at present. It is extremely simple. Listen, and I willtell you the story. "

He reviewed briefly those occurrences leading directly up to his arrest, saying little regarding the horrors of that scene witnessed nearthe Cimmaron Crossing, but making sufficiently clear his very slightconnection with it, and the reason those who were guilty of the crimewere so anxious to get him out of the way. She listened intently, askingfew questions, until he ended. Then they both looked up, conscious thatdawn was becoming gray in the east. Keith's first thought was one ofrelief--the brightening sky showed him they were riding straight north. 

Chapter XIII. The Ford of the Arkansas

They were still in the midst of the yellow featureless plain, butthe weary horses had slowed down to a walk, the heavy sand retardingprogress. It was a gloomy, depressing scene in the spectral gray light, a wide circle of intense loneliness, unbroken by either dwarfed shrubor bunch of grass, a barren expanse stretching to the sky. Vague cloudshadows seemed to flit across the level surface, assuming fantasticshapes, but all of the same dull coloring, imperfect and unfinished. Nothing seemed tangible or real, but rather some grotesque picture ofdelirium, ever merging into another yet more hideous. The very silenceof those surrounding wastes seemed burdensome, adding immeasurably tothe horror. They were but specks crawling underneath the sky--the onlyliving, moving objects in all that immense circle of desolation anddeath. 

Keith turned in the saddle, looking back past Neb--who swayed in hisseat, with head lolling on his breast as though asleep, his horseplodding after the others--along the slight trail they had made acrossthe desert. So far as eye could reach nothing moved, nothing apparentlyexisted. Fronting again to the north he looked upon the same grimbarrenness, only that far off, against the lighter background of distantsky, there was visible a faint blur, a bluish haze, which he believed tobe the distant sand dunes bordering the Arkansas. The intense drearinessof it all left a feeling of depression. His eyes turned and regarded thegirl riding silently beside him. The same look of depression was visibleupon her face, and she was gazing off into the dull distance withlack-lustre eyes, her slender form leaning forward, her hands claspedacross the pommel. The long weariness of the night had left traces onher young face, robbing it of some of its freshness, yet Keith found itmore attractive in the growing daylight than amid the lamp shadowsof the evening before. He had not previously realized the peculiarclearness of her complexion, the rose tint showing through the oliveskin, or the soft and silky fineness of her hair, which, disarranged, was strangely becoming under the broad brim of the hat she wore, drawn low until it shadowed her eyes. It was not a face to be easilyassociated with frontier concert halls, or any surrender to evil; thechin round and firm, the lips full, yet sufficiently compressed; thewhole expression that of pure and dignified womanhood. She puzzled him, and he scarcely knew what to believe, or exactly how to act toward her. 

"Our friends back yonder should be turning out from the corral by now, "he said finally, anxious to break the silence, for she had not spokensince he ended his tale. "It will not be long until they discoverHawley's predicament, and perhaps the welkin already rings withprofanity. That may even account for the blue haze out yonder. "

She turned her eyes toward him, and the slightest trace of a smileappeared from out the depths of their weariness. 

"If they would only remain satisfied with that. Will they follow us, doyou think? And are we far enough away by this time to be safe?"

"It is hardly likely they will let us escape without a chase, " heanswered slowly. "We possess too much information now that we havetheir rendezvous located, and 'Black Bart' will have a private grudge torevenge. I wonder if he suspects who attacked him! But don't worry, MissHope; we have miles the start, and the wind has been strong enough tocover our trail. Do you see that dark irregularity ahead?"

"Yes; is it a cloud?"

"No; the Arkansas sand dunes. I am going to try to keep the horsesmoving until we arrive there. Then we will halt and eat whatever Neb haspacked behind him, and rest for an hour or two. You look very tired, but I hope you can keep up for that distance. We shall be safely out ofsight then. "

"Indeed, I am tired; the strain of waiting alone in that cabin, andall that happened last night, have tried me severely. But--but I can gothrough. "

Her voice proved her weakness, although it was determined enough, andKeith, yielding to sudden impulse, put out his hand, and permitted it torest upon hers, clasped across the pommel. Her eyes drooped, but therewas no change of posture. 

"Your nerve is all right, " he said, admiringly, "you have shown yourselfa brave girl. "

"I could not be a coward, and be my father's daughter, " she replied, with an odd accent of pride in her choking voice, "but I have beenafraid, and--and I am still. "

"Of what? Surely, not that those fellows will ever catch up with us?"

"No, I hardly know what, only there is a dread I cannot seem to shakeoff, as if some evil impended, the coming of which I can feel, but notsee. Have you ever experienced any such premonition?"

He laughed, withdrawing his hand. 

"I think not. I am far too prosaic a mortal to allow dreams to worryme. So far I have discovered sufficient trouble in real life to keep mybrain active. Even now I cannot forget how hungry I am. "

She did not answer, comprehending how useless it would be to explain, and a little ashamed of her own ill-defined fears, and thus they rodeon in silence. He did not notice that she glanced aside at him shyly, marking the outline of his clear-cut features, silhouetted against thefar-off sky. It was a manly face, strong, alive, full of character, thewell-shaped head firmly poised, the broad shoulders squared in spite ofthe long night of weary exertion. The depths of her eyes brightened withappreciation. 

"I believe your story, Mr. Keith, " she said at last softly. 

"My story?" questioningly, and turning instantly toward her. 

"Yes; all that you have told me about what happened. "

"Oh; I had almost forgotten having told it, but I never felt any doubtbut what you would believe. I don't think I could lie to you. "

It was no compliment, but spoken with such evident honesty that her eyesmet his with frankness. 

"There could be no necessity; only I wanted you to know that I trustyou, and am grateful. "

She extended her hand this time, and he took it within his own, holdingit firmly, yet without knowing what to answer. There was strong impulsewithin him to question her, to learn then and there her own life story. Yet, somehow, the reticence of the girl restrained him; he could notdeliberately probe beneath the veil she kept lowered between them. Until she chose to lift it herself voluntarily, he possessed no rightto intrude. The gentlemanly instincts of younger years held him silent, realizing clearly that whatever secret might dominate her life, it washers to conceal just so long as she pleased. Out of this swift struggleof repression he managed to say:

"I appreciate your confidence, and mean to prove worthy. Perhaps someday I can bring you the proofs. "

"I need none other than your own word. "

"Oh, but possibly you are too easily convinced; you believed in Hawley. "

She looked at him searchingly, her eyes glowing, her cheeks flushed. 

"Yes, " she said slowly, convincingly. "I know I did; I--I was so anxiousto be helped, but--but this is different. "

It was noon, the sun pitiless and hot above them, before they straggledwithin the partial shelter of the sand dunes, and sank wearily down totheir meagre lunch. Their supply of water was limited, and the exhaustedponies must wait until they reached the river to quench their thirst. Yet this was not very far off now, and Keith had seen enough of theirsurroundings to locate the position of the ford. Slow as they mustproceed, three hours more would surely bring them to the bank of thestream. They discussed their plans briefly as the three sat together onthe warm sand, revived both by the food and the brief rest. There wasnot a great deal to be determined, only where the girl should be left, and how the two men had better proceed to escape observation. 

Fort Larned was the nearest and safest place for their charge, noneof the party expressing any desire to adventure themselves within theimmediate neighborhood of Carson City. What her future plans might bewere not revealed, and Keith forebore any direct questioning. Hisduty plainly ended with placing her in a safe environment, and he feltconvinced that Mrs. Murphy, of the Occidental Hotel, would furnish room, and, if necessary, companionship. The sole problem remaining--after shehad rather listlessly agreed to such an arrangement--was to so plan thedetails as to permit the negro and himself to slip through the smalltown clustered about the post without attracting undue attention. Nodoubt, the story of their escape had already reached there, embellishedby telling, and serious trouble might result from discovery. Keith wassurprised at the slight interest she exhibited in these arrangements, merely signifying her acquiescence by a word, but he charged it tophysical weariness, and the reaction from her night of peril; yet hetook pains to explain fully his plan, and to gain her consent. 

This finally settled, they mounted again and rode on through the lanestraversing the sand dunes, keeping headed as straight as possible towardthe river. The ford sought was some miles down stream, but with thehorses' thirst mitigated, they made excellent progress, and arrived atthe spot early in the evening. Not in all the day had they encountereda living object, or seen a moving thing amid the surrounding desolation. Now, looking across to the north, a few gleaming lights told of FortLarned perched upon the opposite bluffs. 

Chapter XIV. The Landlady of the Occidentals

Keith had crossed at this point so frequently with cattle that, oncehaving his bearings, the blackness of the night made very littledifference. Nevertheless, in fear lest her pony might stumble over someirregularity, he gave his own rein to Neb, and went forward on foot, grasping firmly the tired animal's bit. It was a long stretch of sandand water extending from bank to bank, but the latter was shallow, theonly danger being that of straying off from the more solid bottom intoquicksand. With a towering cottonwood as guide, oddly misshapen andstanding out gauntly against the slightly lighter sky, the plainsman ledon unhesitatingly, until they began to climb the rather sharp uplift ofthe north bank. Here there was a plain trail, pounded into smoothness bythe hoofs of cavalry horses ridden down to water, and at the summit theyemerged within fifty yards of the stables. 

The few lights visible, some stationary, with others dancing aboutlike will-o'-the-wisps, revealed imperfectly the contour of variousbuildings, but Keith turned sharply to the right, anxious to slip pastwithout being challenged by a sentry. Beyond the brow of the bluff otherlights now became visible, flickering here and there, marking where astraggling town had sprung up under the protection of the post--a towngarish enough in the daylight, composed mostly of shacks and tents, but now with its deficiencies mercifully concealed by the envelopingdarkness. The trail, easily followed, led directly along its singlestreet, but Keith circled the outskirts through a wilderness of tin-cansand heaps of other debris, until he halted his charges beside theblack shadow of the only two-story edifice in the place. This was theOccidental, the hospitality of which he had frequently tested. 

A light streamed from out the front windows, but, uncertain who might beharbored within, Keith tapped gently at the back door. It was not openedimmediately, and when it was finally shoved aside the merest crack, noglow of light revealed the darkened interior. The voice which spoke, however, was amply sufficient to identify its owner. 

"Is that ye agin, Murphy, a playin' av yer dirthy thricks?"

"No, Mrs. Murphy, " he hastened to explain, "this is Keith--Jack Keith, of the 'Bar X. '"

"The Lord deliver us!" was the instant exclamation, the door openingwide. "They do be afther tellin' me to-night av the throuble ye was inover at Carson, an' Oi t'ought maybe ye moight turn up this way. It wasa nate thrick ye played on the loikes av 'em, Jack, but this is a dompoor place fer ye ter hide in. Bedad, there's a half-dozen in the parlynow talkin' about it, wid a couple av officers from the fort. Is thenager wid ye?"

"Yes, but we have no intention of hiding here. I'd rather take my chancein the open. The fact is, Kate, we started off for the 'Bar X. '"

"Av course, ye did; Oi was shure av it. "

"But down on the Salt Fork we ran across a young girl whom Black Barthad inveigled down that way on a lie. We had a bit of a fight, and gother away from him. This is what brought us back here--to put the girlwhere she will be safe out of his clutches. "

The door was wide open now, and Mrs. Murphy outside, her interest atfever heat. 

"Ye had a foight wid Black Bart! Oh, ye divil! An' ye licked the dirthyspalpane, an' got away wid his gyurl! Glory be! And would Oi take her?Well, Oi would. Niver doubt that, me bye. She may be the quane av Shaba, an' she may be a Digger Injun Squaw, but the loikes av him had bettherkape away from Kate Murphy. It's glad Oi am ter do it! Bring her in. Oidon't want ter hear no more. "

"Just a word, Kate; I don't know whether she has any money or not, but I'll pay her bill, as soon as it is safe for me to come back. "

"Oh, the divil take her bill. She'll have the best in the house, annyhow, an' Oi'm only hopin' that fellow will turn up huntin' her. Oi'dloike ter take one slap at the spalpane. "

Fully convinced as to Mrs. Murphy's good-will, Keith slipped backinto the darkness, and returned with the girl. Introductions weresuperfluous, as the mistress of the Occidental cared little regardingceremony. 

"An' is this you, my dear?" she burst out, endeavoring to curb her voiceto secretive softness. "Shure, Jack Keith has told me all about it, an'it's safe it is yer goin' ter be here. Come on in; Oi'll give ye numberforty-two, thet's next behint me own room, an' we'll go up the backsthairs. Hilp the young loidy, Jack, fer shure ye know the way. "

She disappeared, evidently with some hospitable purpose in view, andKeith, clasping the girl's hand, undertook the delicate task of safelyescorting her through the dark kitchen, and up the dimly rememberedstairs. Only a word or two passed between them, but as they neared thesecond story a light suddenly streamed out through the opened door of aroom at their left. Mrs. Murphy greeted them at the landing, and for thefirst time saw the girl's weary white face, her eyes filled with appeal, and the warm Irish heart responded instantly. 

"Ye poor little lamb; it's the bid ye want, an' a dhrap o' whiskey. JackKeith, why didn't ye till me she was done up wid the hard ride? Here, honey, sit down in the rocker till Oi get ye a wee dhrink. It'll bringthe roses back to the cheeks av ye. " She was gone, bustling down thedark stairs, and the two were alone in the room, the girl looking upinto his face, her head resting against the cushioned back of the chair. He thought he saw a glimmer of tears in the depths of her lash-shadedeyes, and her round white throat seemed to choke. 

"You will be perfectly secure here, " he said, soothingly, "and canremain as long as you please. Mrs. Murphy will guard you as though youwere her own daughter. She is a bit rough, maybe, but a big-heartedwoman, and despises Hawley. She nursed me once through a touch oftyphoid--yes, by Jove, " glancing about in sudden recognition, "and inthis very room, too. "

The girl's glance wandered over the plain, neat furnishings, and therather pathetic attempts at decoration, yet with apparently no thoughtfor them. 

"You--you have not told me where you were going. "

He laughed, a little uneasily, as though he preferred to make light ofthe whole matter. 

"Really, I have hardly decided, the world is so wide, and I had noreason to suppose you interested. "

"But I am interested, " resenting his tone of assumed indifference. "Iwould not want to feel that our acquaintance was to wholly end now. "

"Do you really mean that?"

"Why should I not? You have been a real friend to me; I shall rememberyou always with a gratitude beyond words. I want you to know this, andthat--that I shall ever wish to retain that friendship. "

Keith struggled with himself, doubtful of what he had best say, swayedby unfamiliar emotions. 

"You may be sure I shall never forget, " he blurted forth, desperately, "and, if you really wish it, I'll certainly see you again. "

"I do, " earnestly. 

"Then, I'll surely find a way. I don't know now which direction we willride, but I'm not going very far until I clear up that murder out yonderon the trail; that is my particular job just now. "

Before she could answer, Mrs. Murphy reëntered, and forced her to drinkthe concoction prepared, the girl accepting with smiling protest. Thelandlady, empty glass in hand, swept her eyes about the room. 

"Bedad, but the place looks betther than iver Oi'd belaved, wid thegyurl Oi've got tindin' to it. She's that lazy she goes ter slapeswapin' the flure. Jack, would ye moind hilpin' me move the bid; shure, it's rale mahogany, an' so heavy it breaks me back intoirely to push it'round. "

He took hold willingly enough, and the two together ran the heavycontrivance across the room to the position selected. Once a leg caughtin the rag carpet, and Keith lifted it out, bending low to get a firmergrip. Then he held out his hand to the girl. 

"It is not going to be good-bye then, Miss Hope; I'll find you. "

She smiled up into his eyes, much of the weariness gone from her face. 

"I am going to believe that, " she answered, gladly, "because I want to. "

Mrs. Murphy lingered until his steps sounded on the stairs, as he slowlyfelt his way down through the darkness. 

"He do be a moighty foine bye, Jack Keith, " she said, apparentlyaddressing the side wall. "Oi wish Oi'd a knowed him whin Oi was agyurl; shure, it's not Murphy me noime'd be now, Oi'm t'inkin'. "

Left alone, the girl bowed her head on her hands, a hot tear stealingdown through her fingers. As she glanced up again, something thatglittered on the floor beside the bed caught her eyes. She stopped andpicked it up, holding the trinket to the light, staring at it as thoughfascinated. It was the locket Keith had taken from the neck of the deadman at Cimmaron Crossing. Her nerveless fingers pressed the spring, andthe painted face within looked up into her own, and still clasping itwithin her hand, she sank upon her knees, burying her face on the bed. 

"Where did he get that?" her lips kept repeating. "Where did he ever getthat?"

Chapter XV. Again Christie Maclaire

Keith possessed sufficient means for several months of idleness, andeven if he had not, his reputation as a plains scout would insure himemployment at any of the more important scattered army posts. Reliablemen for such service were in demand. The restlessness of the variousIndian tribes, made specially manifest by raids on the more advancedsettlements, and extending over a constantly widening territory, required continuous interchange of communication between commanders ofdetachments. Bold and reckless spirits had flocked to the frontier inthose days following the Civil War, yet all were not of the typeto encourage confidence in military authorities. Keith had alreadyfrequently served in this capacity, and abundantly proved his worthunder rigorous demands of both endurance and intelligence, and he couldfeel assured of permanent employment whenever desired. Not a few ofthe more prominent officers he had met personally during the latewar--including Sheridan, to whom he had once borne a flag of truce, --yetthe spirit of the Confederacy still lingered in his heart: not in anyfeeling of either hatred or revenge, but in an unwillingness to servethe blue uniform, and a memory of antagonism which would not entirelydisappear. He had surrendered at Appomattox, conquered, yet he could notquite adjust himself to becoming companion-in-arms with those againstwhom he had fought valiantly for four years. Some of the wounds of thatconflict still smarted. A natural soldier, anxious to help the harassedsettlers, eager enough to be actively employed, he still held aloof fromarmy connections except as a volunteer in case of emergency. 

Just now other considerations caused him to desire freedom. He had beenaccused of murder, imprisoned for it, and in order to escape, had beencompelled to steal horses, the most heinous crime of the frontier. Notonly for his own protection and safety must the truth of that occurrenceat the Cimmaron Crossing be made clear, but he also had now a personalaffair with "Black Bart" Hawley to be permanently settled. They hadalready clashed twice, and Keith intended they should meet again. 

Memory of the girl was still in his mind as he and Neb rode silentlyforth on the black prairie, leading the extra horse behind them. He endeavored to drive the recollection from his mind, so he mightconcentrate it upon plans for the future, but somehow she mysteriouslywove her own personality into those plans, and he was ever seeing thepleading in her eyes, and listening to the soft Southern accent of hervoice. Of late years he had been unaccustomed to association with womenof high type, and there was that touch of the gentlewoman about thisgirl which had awakened deep interest. Of course he knew that in hercase it was merely an inheritance of her past, and could not trulyrepresent the present Christie Maclaire of the music halls. Howeverfascinating she might be, she could not be worthy any seriousconsideration. In spite of his rough life the social spirit of the oldSouth was implanted in his blood, and no woman of that class could holdhim captive. Yet, some way, she refused to be banished or left behind. Even Neb must have been obsessed by a similar spirit, for he suddenlyobserved:

"Dat am sutt'nly a mighty fine gal, Massa Jack. I ain't seen nothin' tocompare wid her since I quit ol' Virginia--'deed I ain't. "

Keith glanced back at his black satellite, barely able to distinguishthe fellow's dim outlines. 

"You think her a lady, then?" he questioned, giving thoughtlessutterance to his own imagination. 

"'Deed I does!" the thick voice somewhat indignant. "I reck'n I knowsde real quality when I sees it. I'se 'sociated wid quality white folksbefo'. "

"But, Neb, she's a singer in dance halls. "

"I don't believe it, Massa Jack. "

"Well, I wouldn't if I could help it. She don't seem like that kind, butI recognized her as soon as I got her face in the light. She was at theGaiety in Independence, the last time I was there. Hawley knew her too, and called her by name. "

Neb rubbed his eyes, and slapped his pony's flank, unable to answer, yetstill unconvinced. 

"I reck'n both ob yer might be mistook, " he insisted doggedly. 

"Not likely, " and Keith's brief laugh was not altogether devoid ofbitterness. "We both called her Christie Maclaire, and she didn't evendeny the name; she was evidently not proud of it, but there was nodenial that she was the girl. "

"Dat wasn't like no name dat you called her when we was ridin'. "

"No; she didn't approve of the other, and told me to call her Hope, butI reckon she's Christie Maclaire all right. "

They rode on through the black, silent night as rapidly as their tiredhorses would consent to travel. Keith led directly across the openprairie, guiding his course by the stars, and purposely avoiding thetrails, where some suspicious eye might mark their passage. His firstobject was to get safely away from the scattered settlements lyingeast of Carson City. Beyond their radius he could safely dispose of thehorses they rode, disappear from view, and find time to develop futureplans. As to the girl--well, he would keep his word with her, of course, and see her again sometime. There would be no difficulty about that, butotherwise she should retain no influence over him. She belonged ratherto Hawley's class than his. 

It was a lonely, tiresome ride, during which Neb made various efforts totalk, but finding his white companion uncommunicative, at last relapsedinto rather sullen silence. The horses plodded on steadily, and whendaylight finally dawned, the two men found themselves in a depressionleading down to the Smoky River. Here they came to a water hole, wherethey could safely hide themselves and their stock. With both Indiansand white men to be guarded against, they took all the necessaryprecautions, picketing the horses closely under the rock shadows, andnot venturing upon building any fire. Neb threw himself on the turf andwas instantly asleep, but Keith climbed the steep side of the gully, andmade searching survey of the horizon. The wide arc to south, east, andwest revealed nothing to his searching eyes, except the dull brown ofthe slightly rolling plains, with no life apparent save some distantgrazing antelope, but to the north extended more broken country witha faint glimmer of water between the hills. Satisfied they wereunobserved, he slid back again into the depression. As he turned tolie down he took hold of the saddle belonging to Hawley's horse. In theunbuckled holster his eye observed the glimmer of a bit of white paper. He drew it forth, and gazed at it unthinkingly. It was an envelope, robbed of its contents, evidently not sent through the mails as ithad not been stamped, but across its face was plainly written, "MissChristie Maclaire. " He stared at it, his lips firm set, his gray eyesdarkening. If he possessed any doubts before as to her identity, theywere all thoroughly dissipated now. 

 * * * * *

As he lay there, with head pillowed on the saddle, his body aching fromfatigue yet totally unable to sleep, staring open-eyed into the blueof the sky, the girl they had left behind awoke from uneasy slumber, aroused by the entrance of Mrs. Murphy. For an instant she failed tocomprehend her position, but the strong brogue of the energetic landladybroke in sharply:

"A bit av a cup av coffee fer ye, honey, " she explained, crossing to thebed. "Shure an' there's nuthin' loike it when ye first wake up. HowlyMither, but it's toird 'nough ye do be lookin' yet. "

"I haven't slept very well, " the girl confessed, bringing her handout from beneath the coverlet, the locket still tightly clasped in herfingers. "See, I found this on the floor last night after you had gonedown stairs. "

"Ye did!" setting the coffee on a convenient chair, and reaching out forthe trinket. "Let's have a look at it once. Angels av Hiven, if it isn'tthe same the ol' Gineral was showin' me in the parly. "

The other sat up suddenly, her white shoulders and rounded throatgleaming. 

"The old General, you said? What General? When was he here?"

"Shure now, be aisy, honey, an' Oi 'll tell ye all there is to it. It'snot his name Oi know; maybe Oi niver heard till av it, but 'twas the'Gineral' they called him, all right. He was here maybe three daysoutfittin'--a noice spoken ol' gintlemin, wid a gray beard, an' onc't heshowed me the locket--be the powers, if it do be his, there's an openin'to it, an' a picter inside. "

The girl touched the spring, revealing the face within, but her eyeswere blinded with tears. The landlady looked at her in alarm. 

"What is it, honey? What is it? Did you know him?"

The slender form swayed forward, shaken with sobs. 

"He was my father, and--and this is my mother's picture which he alwayscarried. "

"Then what is your name?"

"Hope Waite. "

Kate Murphy looked, at the face half hidden in the bed-clothes. That wasnot the name which Keith had given her, but she had lived on the bordertoo long to be inquisitive. The other lifted her head, flinging back herloosened hair with one hand. 

"Mr. Keith dropped it, " she exclaimed. "Where do you suppose he got it?"Then she gave a quick, startled cry, her eyes opening wide in horror. "The Cimmaron Crossing, the murder at the Cimmaron Crossing! He--hetold me about that; but he never showed me this--this. Do you--do youthink--"

Her voice failed, but Kate Murphy gathered her into her arms. 

"Cry here, honey, " she said, as if to a child. "Shure an' Oi don't knowwho it was got kilt out yonder, but Oi'm tellin' ye it niver was JackKeith what did it--murther ain't his stoyle. "

Chapter XVI. Introducing Doctor Fairbain

Headed as they were, and having no other special objective point inview, it was only natural for the two fugitives to drift into Sheridan. This was at that time the human cesspool of the plains country, aseething, boiling maelstrom of all that was rough, evil, and brazenalong the entire frontier. Customarily quiet enough during the hoursof daylight, the town became a mad saturnalia with the approach ofdarkness, its ceaseless orgies being noisily continued until dawn. Butat this period all track work on the Kansas Pacific being temporarilysuspended by Indian outbreaks, the graders made both night and day alikehideous, and the single dirty street which composed Sheridan, lined withshacks, crowded with saloons, the dull dead prairie stretching away onevery side to the horizon, was congested with humanity during every hourof the twenty-four. 

It was a grim picture of depravity and desolation, the environmentdull, gloomy, forlorn; all that was worthy the eye or thought beingthe pulsing human element. All about extended the barren plains, exceptwhere on one side a ravine cut through an overhanging ridge. From theseething street one could look up to the summit, and see there thegraves of the many who had died deaths of violence, and been bornethither in "their boots. " Amid all this surrounding desolation wasSheridan--the child of a few brief months of existence, and destined toperish almost as quickly--the centre of the grim picture, a mere clusterof rude, unpainted houses, poorly erected shacks, grimy tents flappingin the never ceasing wind swirling across the treeless waste, the uglyred station, the rough cow-pens filled with lowing cattle, the huge, ungainly stores, their false fronts decorated by amateur wielders ofthe paint brush, and the garish dens of vice tucked in everywhere. Thependulum of life never ceased swinging. Society was mixed; no man caredwho his neighbor was, or dared to question. Of women worthy the namethere were few, yet there were flitting female forms in plenty, thesaloon lights revealing powdered cheeks and painted eyebrows. It wasa strange, restless populace, the majority here to-day, disappearingto-morrow--cowboys, half-breeds, trackmen, graders, desperadoes, gamblers, saloon-keepers, merchants, generally Jewish, petty officials, and a riff-raff no one could account for, mere floating debris. The townwas an eddy catching odd bits of driftwood such as only the frontierever knew. Queer characters were everywhere, wrecks of dissipation, derelicts of the East, seeking nothing save oblivion. 

Everything was primitive--passion and pleasure ruled. To spend easilymade money noisily, brazenly, was the ideal. From dawn to dawn thesearch after joy continued. The bagnios and dance halls were ablaze; thebar-rooms crowded with hilarious or quarrelsome humanity, the gamblingtables alive with excitement. Men swaggered along the streets lookingfor trouble, and generally finding it; cowboys rode into open saloondoors and drank in the saddle; troops of congenial spirits, frenziedwith liquor, spurred recklessly through the street firing into the air, or the crowd, as their whim led; bands played popular airs on balconies, and innumerable "barkers" added their honeyed invitations to theperpetual din. From end to end it was a saturnalia of vice, a babel ofsound, a glimpse of the inferno. Money flowed like water; every man washis own law, and the gun the arbiter of destiny. The town marshal, with a few cool-headed deputies, moved here and there amid the chaos, patient, tireless, undaunted, seeking merely to exercise some slightrestraint. This was Sheridan. 

Into the one long street just at dusk rode Keith and Neb, the thirdhorse trailing behind. Already lights were beginning to gleam in thecrowded saloons, and they were obliged to proceed slowly. Leaving thenegro at the corral to find some purchaser for the animals, and suchaccommodations for himself as he could achieve, Keith shouldered hisway on foot through the heterogeneous mass toward the only hotel, a longtwo-storied wooden structure, unpainted, fronting the glitter of thePioneer Dance Hall opposite. A noisy band was splitting the air withdiscordant notes, a loud-voiced "barker" yelling through the uproar, butKeith, accustomed to similar scenes and sounds elsewhere, strode throughthe open door of the hotel, and guided by the noisy, continuous clatterof dishes, easily found his way to the dining-room. It was crowdedwith men, a few women scattered here and there, most of the former inshirt-sleeves, all eating silently. A few smaller tables at the back ofthe room were distinguished from the others by white coverings in placeof oil-cloth, evidently reserved for the more distinguished guests. Disdaining ceremony, the newcomer wormed his way through, finallydiscovering a vacant seat where his back would be to the wall, thusenabling him to survey the entire apartment. 

It was not of great interest, save for its constant change and theprimitive manner in which the majority attacked their food supply, which was piled helter-skelter upon the long tables, yet he ran hiseyes searchingly over the numerous faces, seeking impartially for eitherfriend or enemy. No countenance present, as revealed in the dim lightof the few swinging lamps, appeared familiar, and satisfied that heremained unknown, Keith began devoting his attention to the dishesbefore him, mentally expressing his opinion as to their attractiveness. Chancing finally to again lift his eyes, he met the gaze of a mansitting directly opposite, a man who somehow did not seem exactly inharmony with his surroundings. He was short and stockily built, withround rosy face, and a perfect shock of wiry hair brushed back from abroad forehead; his nose wide but stubby, and chin massive. Apparentlyhe was between forty and fifty years of age, exceedingly well dressed, his gray eyes shrewd and full of a grim humor. Keith observed all thisin a glance, becoming aware at the same time that his neighbor wasapparently studying him also. The latter broke silence with a quick, jerky utterance, which seemed to peculiarly fit his personal appearance. 

"Damn it all--know you, sir--sure I do--but for life of me can't tellwhere. "

Keith stared across at him more searchingly, and replied, ratherindifferently:

"Probably a mistake then, as I have no recollection of your face. "

"Never make a mistake, sir--never forget a face, " the other snapped withsome show of indignation, his hands now clasped on the table, one stubbyforefinger pointed, as he leaned forward. "Don't tell me--I've seen yousomewhere--no, not a word--don't even tell me your name--I'm going tothink of it. "

Keith smiled, not unwilling to humor the man's eccentricity, andreturned to his meal, with only an occasional inquiring glance acrossthe table. The other sat and stared at him, his heavy eyebrows wrinkled, as he struggled to awaken memory. The younger man had begun on his piewhen the face opposite suddenly cleared. 

"Damn me, I've got it--hell, yes; hospital tent--Shenandoah--bulletimbedded under third rib--ordinary case--that's why I forgot--clearas mud now--get the name in a minute--Captain--Captain Keith--that'sit--shake hands. "

Puzzled at the unexpected recognition, yet realizing the friendliness ofthe man, Keith grasped the pudgy fingers extended with some cordiality. 

"Don't remember me I s'pose--don't think you ever saw me--delirious whenI came--hate to tell you what you was talking about--gave you hypodermicfirst thing--behaved well enough though when I dug out the lead--Miniébullet, badly blunted hitting the rib--thought you might die with bloodpoison--couldn't stay to see--too damn much to do--evidently didn'tthough--remember me now?"

"No, only from what you say. You must have been at General Waite'sheadquarters. "

"That's it--charge of Stonewall's field hospital--just happened to rideinto Waite's camp that night--damn lucky for you I did--young snip therewanted to saw the bone--I stopped that--liked your face--imagined youmight be worth saving--ain't so sure of it now, or you wouldn't beout in this God forsaken country, eating such grub--my name'sFairbain--Joseph Wright Fairbain, M. D. --contract surgeon for therailroad--working on the line?"

Keith shook his head, feeling awakening interest in his peculiarcompanion. 

"No; just drifted in here from down on the Arkansas, " he explained, briefly. "Did you know General Waite was dead?"

The doctor's ruddy face whitened. 

"Dead?--Willis Waite dead?" he repeated. "What do you mean, sir? Are yousure? When?"

"I ought to be sure; I buried him just this side the Cimmaron Crossingout on the Santa Fé trail. "

"But do you know it was General Waite?" the man's insistent tone full ofdoubt. 

"I have no question about it, " returned Keith, conclusively. "The manwas Waite's size and general appearance, with gray beard, similar to theone I remember he wore during the war. He had been scalped, and his facebeaten beyond recognition, but papers in his pockets were sufficient toprove his identity. Besides, he and his companion--a young fellow namedSibley--were known to have pulled out two days before from Carson City. "

"When was this?"

"Ten days ago. "

Fairbain's lips smiled, the ruddy coloring sweeping back into hischeeks. 

"Damn me, Keith, you came near giving me a shock, " he said, jerkily. "Shouldn't be so careless--not sure my heart's just right--tendencyto apoplexy, too--got to be guarded against. Now, let me tellyou something--maybe you buried some poor devil out at CimmaronCrossing--but it wasn't Willis Waite. How do I know? Because I saw him, and talked with him yesterday--damn me, if I didn't, right here in thistown. "

Chapter XVII. In the Next Room

Keith, his eyes filled with undisguised doubt, studied the face of theman opposite, almost convinced that he was, in some way, connected withthe puzzling mystery. But the honesty of the rugged face only added tohis perplexity. 

"Are you certain you are not mistaken?"

"Of course I am, Keith. I've known Waite for fifteen years a bitintimately--have met him frequently since the war--and I certainlytalked with him. He told me enough to partially confirm your story. Hesaid he had started for Santa Fé light, because he couldn't get enoughmen to run a caravan--afraid of Indians, you know. So, he determined totake money--buy Mexican goods--and risk it himself. Old fighting cockwouldn't turn back for all the Indians on the plains once he got an ideain his head--he was that kind--Lord, you ought to seen the fight he putup at Spottsylvania! He got to Carson City with two wagons, a driver anda cook--had eight thousand dollars with him, too, the damn fool. Cookgot into row, gambling, cut a man, and was jugged. Old Waite wouldn'tleave even a nigger in that sort of fix--natural fighter--likes any kindof row. So, he hung on there at Carson, but had sense enough--Lord knowswhere he got it--to put all but a few hundred dollars in Ben Levy'ssafe. Then, he went out one night to play poker with his driver anda friend--had a drink or two--doped, probably, and never woke up forforty-eight hours--lost clothes, money, papers, and whole outfit--wasjust naturally cleaned out--couldn't get a trace worth following after. You ought to have heard him cuss when he told me--it seemed to be thepapers that bothered him most--them, and the mules. "

"You say there was no trace?"

"Nothing to travel on after forty-eight hours--a posse started out nextmorning, soon as they found him--when they got back they reported havingrun the fellows as far as Cimmaron Crossing--there they got across intothe sand hills, and escaped. "

"Who led the posse?"

"A man called Black, I think, " he said. 

"Black Bart?"

"Yes, that's the name; so, I reckon you didn't bury Willis Waite thistime, Captain. You wouldn't have thought he was a dead one if you hadheard him swear while he was telling the story--it did him proud; neverheard him do better since the second day at Gettysburg--had his ear shotoff then, and I had to fix him up--Lord, but he called me a few things. "

Keith sat silent, fully convinced now that the doctor was telling thetruth, yet more puzzled than ever over the peculiar situation in whichhe found himself involved. 

"What brought the General up here?" he questioned, finally. 

"I haven't much idea, " was the reply. "I don't think I asked himdirectly. I wasn't much interested. There was a hint dropped, however, now you speak about it. He's keen after those papers, and doesn'tfeel satisfied regarding the report of the posse. It's my opinion he'strailing after Black Bart. "

The dining-room was thinning out, and they were about the only ones leftat the tables. Keith stretched himself, looking around. 

"Well, Doctor, I am very glad to have met you again, and to learn Waiteis actually alive. This is a rather queer affair, but will have to workitself out. Anyway, I am too dead tired to-night to hunt after cluesin midst of this babel. I've been in the saddle most of the time for aweek, and have got to find a bed. "

"I reckon you won't discover such a thing here, " dryly. "Got seven ina room upstairs, and others corded along the hall. Better share mycell--only thing to do. "

"That would be asking too much--I can turn in at the corral with Neb;I've slept in worse places. "

"Couldn't think of it, Keith, " and the doctor got up. "Besides, yousleep at night, don't you?"

"Usually, yes, " the other admitted. 

"Then you won't bother me any--no doctor sleeps at night in Sheridan;that's our harvest time. Come on, and I'll show you the way. Whenmorning comes I'll rout you out and take my turn. "

Keith had enjoyed considerable experience in frontier hotels, butnothing before had ever quite equalled this, the pride of Sheridan. The product of a mushroom town, which merely existed by grace ofthe temporary railway terminus, it had been hastily and flimsilyconstructed, so it could be transported elsewhere at a moment's notice. Every creak of a bed echoed from wall to wall. The thin partitions oftenfailed to reach the ceiling by a foot or two, and the slightest noisearoused the entire floor. And there was noise of every conceivable kind, in plenty, from the blare of a band at the Pioneer Dance Hall opposite, to the energetic cursing of the cook in the rear. A discordant din ofvoices surged up from the street below--laughter, shouts, the shrieks ofwomen, a rattle of dice, an occasional pistol shot, and the continuousyelling of industrious "barkers. " There was no safety anywhere. Anexploding revolver in No. 47 was quite likely to disturb the peacefulslumbers of the innocent occupant of No. 15, and every sound of quarrelin the thronged bar-room below caused the lodger to curl up in momentaryexpectation of a stray bullet coursing toward him through the floor. With this to trouble him, he could lie there and hear everythingthat occurred within and without. Every creak, stamp, and snore wasfaithfully reported; every curse, blow, snarl reechoed to his ears. Inside was hell; outside was Sheridan. 

Wearied, and half dead, as Keith was, sleep was simply impossible. He heard heavy feet tramping up and down the hall; once a drunken manendeavored vainly to open his door; not far away there was a scuffle, and the sound of a body falling down stairs. In some distant apartment afellow was struggling to draw off his tight boots, skipping about on onefoot amid much profanity. That the boot conquered was evident whenthe man crawled into the creaking bed, announcing defiantly, "If thelandlord wants them boots off, let him come an' pull 'em off. "Across the hall was a rattle of chips, and the voices of several men, occasionally raised in anger. Now and then they would stamp on the flooras an order for liquid refreshments from below. From somewhere beyond, the long-drawn melancholy howl of a distressed dog greeted the risingmoon. 

Out from all this pandemonium Keith began to unconsciously detectthe sound of voices talking in the room to his left. In the lull ofobstructing sound a few words reached him through the slight open spacebetween wall and ceiling. 

"Hell, Bill, what's the use goin' out again when we haven't the price?"

"Oh, we might find Bart somewhere, and he'd stake us. I guess I knowenough to make him loosen up. Come on; I'm goin'. "

"Not me; this town is too near Fort Hays; I'm liable to run into some ofthe fellows. "

A chair scraped across the floor as Bill arose to his feet; evidentlyfrom the noise he had been drinking, but Keith heard him lift the latchof the door. 

"All right, Willoughby, " he said, thickly, "I'll try my luck, an' if Isee Bart I'll tell him yer here. So long. "

He shuffled along the hall and went, half sliding, down stairs, andKeith distinguished the click of glass and bottle in the next room. He was sitting up in bed now, wide awake, obsessed with a desire toinvestigate. The reference overheard must have been to Hawley, and ifso, this Willoughby, who was afraid of meeting soldiers from the fort, would be the deserter Miss Hope was seeking. There could be no harmin making sure, and he slipped into his clothes, and as silently aspossible, unlatched his door. There was a noisy crowd at the farther endof the hall, and the sound of some one laboriously mounting the stairs. Not desiring to be seen, Keith slipped swiftly toward the door of theother room, and tried the latch. It was unfastened, and he steppedquietly within, closing it behind him. 

A small lamp was on the washstand, a half-emptied bottle and two glassesbeside it, while a pack of cards lay scattered on the floor. Fullydressed, except for a coat, the sole occupant lay on the bed, butstarted up at Keith's unceremonious entrance, reaching for his revolver, which had slipped to the wrong side of his belt. 

"What the hell!" he exclaimed, startled and confused. 

The intruder took one glance at him through the dingy light--a boy ofeighteen, dark hair, dark eyes, his face, already exhibiting signs ofdissipation, yet manly enough in chin and mouth--and smiled. 

"I could draw while you were thinking about it, " he said, easily, "but Iam not here on the fight. Are you Fred Willoughby?"

The lad stared at him, his uncertain hand now closed on the butt of hisrevolver, yet held inactive by the other's quiet assurance. 

"What do you want to know for?"

"Curiosity largely; thought I'd like to ask you a question or two. "

"You--you're not from the fort?"

"Nothing to do with the army; this is a private affair. "

The boy was sullen from drink, his eyes heavy. 

"Then who the devil are you? I never saw you before. "

"That's very true, and my name wouldn't help any. Nevertheless, you'reperfectly welcome to it. I am Jack Keith. " No expression of recognitioncame into the face of the other, and Keith added curtly, "Shall wetalk?"

There was a moment's silence, and then Willoughby swung his feet overthe edge of the bed onto the floor. 

"Fire away, " he said shortly, "until I see what the game is about. "

Chapter XVIII. Interviewing Willoughby

Cooly, yet without in the least comprehending how best to proceed, Keith drew toward him the only chair in the room, and sat down. MissHope--more widely known as Christie Maclaire--had claimed this drunkenlad as her brother, but, according to Hawley, he had vehemently deniedany such relationship. Yet there must be some previous associationbetween the two, and what this was the plainsman proposed to discover. The problem was how best to cause the fellow to talk frankly--could hebe reached more easily by reference to the girl or the gambler? Keithstudying the sullen, obstinate face confronting him, with instinctiveantagonism over his intrusion, swiftly determined on the girl. 

"It was not very nice of me to come in on you this way, " he began, apologetically, "but you see I happen to know your sister. "

"My sister? Oh, I guess not!"

"Yes, but I do, " throwing a confidence into his tone he was far fromfeeling, "Miss Hope and I are friends. "

The boy sprang to his feet, his face flushed. 

"Oh, you mean Hope? Do you know her? Say, I thought you were giving methat old gag about Christie Maclaire. "

"Certainly not; who is she?"

"That's more than I know; fellow came to me at Carson, and said he'd metmy sister on a stage west of Topeka. I knew he was lyin', because she'shome over in Missouri. Finally, I got it out of him that she claimed tobe my sister, but her name was Maclaire. Why, I don't even know her, andwhat do you suppose she ever picked me out for her brother for?"

He was plainly puzzled, and perfectly convinced it was all a mistake. That his sister might have left home since he did, and drifted Westunder an assumed name, apparently never occurred to him as possible. To Keith this was the explanation, and nothing could be more natural, considering her work, yet he did not feel like shattering the lad'sloyalty. Faith in the sister might yet save him. 

"Perhaps the fellow who told you, " he hazarded blindly, speaking thefirst thought which came to his mind, "had some reason to desire to makeyou think this Maclaire girl was your sister. "

The suggestion caused him to laugh at first; then his face suddenlysobered, as though a new thought had occurred to him. 

"Damn me, no, it couldn't be that, " he exclaimed, one hand pressing hishead. "He couldn't be workin' no trick of that kind on me. "

"Whom do you mean?"

"A fellow named Hawley, " evasively. "The man who claimed to have met mysister. "

"'Black Bart' Hawley?"

The boy lifted his head again, his eyes filled with suspicion. 

"Yes, if you must know; he's a gambler all right, but he's stuck to mewhen I was down and out. You know him?"

"Just a little, " carelessly; "but what sort of a trick could he beworking trying to make you acknowledge Christie Maclaire as yoursister?"

Willoughby did not answer, shifting uneasily about on the bed. Keithwaited, and at last the boy blurted out:

"Oh, it wasn't nothing much. I told him something when I was drunk once, that I thought maybe might have stuck to him. Odd he should make thatmistake, too, for I showed him Hope's picture. Bart's a schemer, and Ididn't know but what he might have figured out a trick, though I don'tsee how he could. It wasn't no more than a pipe dream, I reckon. Wheredid you meet Hope? Back in Missouri?"

One thing was clearly evident--the boy's faith in his sister. If he wasto be rightly influenced, and led back to her, he must have no suspicionaroused that her life was any different from what it had been before heleft home. Besides if Keith hoped to gain any inkling of what Hawley'spurpose could be, he must win the confidence of Willoughby. This couldnot be done by telling him of Hope's present life. These considerationsflashed through his mind, and as swiftly determined his answer. 

"Oh, I've known her some time. Not long ago I did her a servicefor which she is grateful. Did you know she was out in this countrysearching for you?"

"Out here? In Kansas?"

"Sure; that isn't much of a trip for a spirited girl. She got it in herhead from your letters that you were in trouble, and set out to find youand bring you home. She didn't tell me this, but that is the way I heardit. It was for her sake I came in here. Why not go to her, Willoughby, and then both of you return to Missouri?"

The sullenness had gone out of the boy's face: he looked tired, discouraged. 

"Where is Hope?" he asked. 

"Fort Larned, I suppose. She went to Carson City first. "

"Well, that settles it, " shaking his head. "You don't suppose I could gobrowsin' 'round Larned, and not get snapped up, do you? They don't chasedeserters very far out here, but that's the post I skipped from, andthey'd jug me all right. Besides, I'm damned if I'll go back until I geta stake. I want to see a fellow first. "

"What fellow?"

"Well, it's Hawley, if you want to know so bad. He said if I would comehere and wait for him he'd put me on to a good thing. "

The boy fidgeted along the edge of the bed, evidently half ashamedof himself, yet obstinate and unyielding. Keith sat watching his face, unable to evolve any means of changing his decision. Hawley's influencejust at present was greater than Hope's, because the lad naturally feltashamed to go slinking home penniless and defeated. His pride held himto Hawley, and his faith that the man would redeem his promise. Keithunderstood all this readily enough, and comprehended also that if "BlackBart" had any use for the boy it would be for some criminal purpose. What was it? Was there a deeply laid plot back of all these preparationsinvolving both Willoughby and his sister? What was it Hawley wasscheming about so carefully, holding this boy deserter in one hand, while he reached out the other after Christie Maclaire? Surely, the manwas not working blindly; he must have a purpose in view. Willoughbyhad acknowledged he had told the fellow something once when he wasdrunk--about his family history, no doubt, for he had shown him Hope'spicture. What that family secret was Keith had no means of guessing, but Hawley, the moment he saw the face on the cardboard, had evidentlyrecognized Christie Maclaire--had thought of some way in which what henow knew could be turned to advantage. The few scattered facts whichKeith had collected all seemed to point to such a conclusion--Hawley hadsent the boy to Sheridan, where he would be out of sight, with orders towait for him there, and the promise of a "stake" to keep him quiet. Thenhe had gone to Independence and Topeka seeking after Christie Maclaire. Evidently he meant to keep the two apart until he had gained from eachwhatever it was he sought. But what could that be? What family secretcould Willoughby have blurted out in his cups, which had so stimulatedthe gambler's wits?

Two things combined to cause Keith to determine he would uncover thisrascality, --his desire to repay Hawley, and his interest in the girlrescued on the Salt Fork. This gossamer web of intrigue into whichhe had stumbled unwittingly was nothing to him personally; had it notinvolved both Hawley and Miss Hope, he would have left it unsolvedwithout another thought. But under the circumstances it became hisown battle. There was a crime here--hidden as yet, and probably notconsummated--involving wrong, perhaps disgrace, to the young girl. Hehad rescued her once from out the clutches of this man, and he had nointention of deserting her now. Whatever her life might be, she wascertainly an innocent victim in this case, deserving his protection. Thememory came to him of her face upturned toward him in that little roomof the Occidental, her eyes tear-dimmed, her lips asking him to comeback to her again. He could not believe her a bad woman, and his lipscompressed, his eyes darkened, with fixed determination. He would diginto this until he uncovered the truth; he would find out what dirtytrick "Black Bart" was up to. 

As he thought this out, not swiftly as recorded, but slowly, deliberately, piecing the bits together within his mind, blindly feelinghis way to a final conclusion, the boy had sunk back upon the bed, overcome with liquor, and fallen asleep. Keith stepped over, and lookeddown upon him in the dim light. He could recognize something of herfeatures in the upturned face, and his eyes softened. There was no useseeking again to arouse him; even had he been sober, he would not havetalked freely. Keith lifted the dangling feet into a more comfortableposition, turned the lamp lower, went out, and latched the door. Two menwere tramping heavily up the stairs, and they turned into the hall atthe very moment he disappeared within his own room. He still retainedhis grasp upon the latch, when a voice outside asked:

"What number did you say, Bill--29?"

Keith straightened up as though suddenly pricked by a knife; he couldnever forget that voice--it was Hawley's. 

Chapter XIX. A Glimpse at Conspiracy

Leaning against the inside of his own door, startled by the rapidsequence of events, Keith was able, from different sounds reaching him, to mentally picture most of what occurred in the next room. He heardBill sink down into the convenient chair, and drink from the bottle, while the gambler apparently advanced toward the bed, where he stoodlooking down on its unconscious occupant. 

"The fool is dead drunk, " he declared disgustedly. "We can't do anythingwith him to-night. "

"I say--throw bucket water over him, " hiccoughed the other genially, "allers sobers me off. "

Hawley made no response, evidently finding a seat on one end of thewashstand. 

"Hardly worth while, Scott, " he returned finally. "Perhaps I betterhave some understanding with Christie, anyhow, before I pump the boy anyfurther. If we can once get her working with us, Willoughby won't havemuch hand in the play--we shan't need him. Thought I told you to keepsober?"

"Am sober, " solemnly, "ain't had but six drinks; just nat'rly tiredout. "

"Oh, indeed; well, such a room as this would drive any man to drink. Didyou get what I sent you here after?"

"I sure did, Bart, " and Keith heard the fellow get to his feetunsteadily. "Here's the picture, an' some letters. I didn't take onlywhat he had in the grip. "

Hawley shuffled the letters over in his hands, apparently hastilyreading them with some difficulty in the dim light. 

"Nothing there to give us any help, " he acknowledged reluctantly, "mostly advice as far as I can see. Damn the light; a glow worm wouldbe better. " There was a pause; then he slapped his leg. "However, it'sclear they live in Springfield, Missouri, and this photograph is apeach. Just look here, Bill! What did I tell you? Ain't Christie a deadringer for this girl?"

"You bet she is, Bart, " admitted the other in maudlin admiration, "only, I reckon, maybe some older. "

"Well, she ought to be accordin' to Willoughby's story, an' them papersbear him out all right, so I reckon he's told it straight--this Phylliswould be twenty-six now, and that's just about what Christie is. Itwouldn't have fit better if we had made it on purpose. If the girl willonly play up to the part we won't need any other evidence--her facewould be enough. "

Keith could hear the beating of his own heart in the silence thatfollowed. Here was a new thought, a new understanding, a complete newturn to affairs. Christie Maclaire, then, was not Willoughby's sisterHope. The girl he rescued on the desert--the girl with the pleadingbrown eyes, and the soft blur of the South on her lips--was notthe music hall singer. He could hardly grasp the truth at first, itantagonized so sharply with all he had previously believed. Yet, if thiswere true his own duty became clearer than ever; aye, and would be morewillingly performed. But what did Hawley know? Did he already realizethat the girl he had first met on the stage coach, and later inveigledinto the desert, was Hope, and not the music hall artist? He, of course, fully believed her to be Christie Maclaire at that time, but somethingmight have occurred since to change that belief. Anyhow, the man wasnot now seeking Hope, but the other. Apparently the latter was eitheralready here in Sheridan or expected soon. And exactly what was itthe gambler desired this Maclaire woman to do? This was the importantmatter, and for its solution Keith possessed merely a few hints, afew vague suggestions. She was expected to represent herself asPhyllis--Phyllis who? Some Phyllis surely whose physical resemblance toHope must be sufficiently marked to be at once noticeable. Willoughbyhad evidently revealed to Hawley some hidden family secret, havingmoney involved, no doubt, and in which the discovery of this mysteriousPhyllis figured. She might, perhaps, be a sister, or half-sister, whohad disappeared, and remained ignorant as to any inheritance. Hope'spicture shown by the boy, and reminding Hawley at once of ChristieMaclaire, had been the basis of the whole plot. Exactly what the detailsof that plot might be Keith could not figure out, but one thing wasreasonably certain--it was proposed to defraud Hope. And who in the verytruth was Hope? It suddenly occurred to him as a remarkably strange factthat he possessed not the slightest inkling as to the girl's name. Herbrother had assumed to be called Willoughby when he enlisted in thearmy, and his companions continued to call him this. If he couldinterview the girl now for only five minutes he should be able probablyto straighten out the whole intricate tangle. But where was she? Wouldshe have remained until this time at Fort Larned with Kate Murphy?

There was a noise of movement in the next room. Apparently as Hawleyarose carelessly from his edge of the washstand he had dislodged theglass, which fell shivering on the floor. Scott swore audibly at theloss. 

"Shut up, Bill, " snapped the gambler, irritated, "you've got the bottleleft. I'm going; there's nothing for any of us to do now, until after Isee Christie. You remain here! Do you understand?--remain here. Damnme, if that drunken fool isn't waking up. " There was a rattling ofthe rickety bed, and then the sound of Willoughby's voice, thick fromliquor. 

"Almighty glad see you, Bart--am, indeed. Want money--Bill an' I bothwant money--can't drink without money--can't eat without money--shay, when you goin' stake us?"

"I'll see you again in the morning, Fred, " returned the other briefly. "Go on back to sleep. "

"Will when I git good an' ready--go sleep, stay wake, just as Iplease--don't care damn what yer do--got new frien' now. "

"A new friend? Who?" Hawley spoke with aroused interest. 

"Oh, he's all right--he's mighty fine fellow--come in wisoutin--invitation--ol' friend my sister--called--called her Hope--you fool, Bart Hawley, think my sister Christie--Christie--damfino the name--mysister, Hope--don't want yer money--my--my new friend, he 'll stakeme--he knows my sister--Hope. "

The gambler grasped the speaker, shaking him into some slight semblanceof sobriety. 

"Now, look here, Willoughby, I want the truth, and mean to have it, " heinsisted. "Has some one been in here while Scott was gone?"

"Sure--didn't I just tell yer?--friend o' Hope's. "

"Who was he? Speak up! I want the name!"

There was a faint gurgling sound, as though the gambler's vise-likefingers were at the boy's throat; a slight struggle, and then the chokedvoice gasped out:

"Let up! damn yer! He called himself Jack Keith. "

The dead silence which ensued was broken only by heavy breathing. ThenScott swore, bringing his fist down with a crash on the washstand. 

"That rather stumps yer, don't it, Bart? Well, it don't me. I tell yerit's just as I said from the first. It was Keith an' that nigger whatjumped ye in the cabin. They was hidin' there when we rode in. He justnat'rly pumped the gal, an' now he's up here trailin' you. Blame it all, it makes me laugh. "

"I don't see what you see to laugh at. This Keith isn't an easy man toplay with, let me tell you. He may have got on to our game. "

"Oh, hell, Bart, don't lose your nerve. He can't do anything, becausewe've got the under holt. He's a fugitive; all we got to do islocate him, an' have him flung back inter jail--there's murder an'hoss-stealing agin him. "

Hawley seemed to be thinking swiftly, while his companion took anotherdrink. 

"Well, pard, ain't that so?"

"No, that trick won't work, Scott. We could do it easily enough if wewere down in Carson, where the boys would help us out. The trouble uphere is that 'Wild Bill' Hickock is Marshal of Sheridan, and he and Inever did hitch. Besides, Keith was one of his deputies down at Dodgetwo years ago--you remember when Dutch Charlie's place was cleaned out?Well, Hickock and Keith did that job all alone, and 'Wild Bill' isn'tgoing back on that kind of a pal, is he? I tell you we've got to fightthis affair alone, and on the quiet. Maybe the fellow don't know muchyet, but he's sure on the trail, or else he wouldn't have been in heretalking to Willoughby. We've got to get him, Scott, somehow. Lord, man, there's a clean million dollars waiting for us in this deal, and I'mready to fight for it. But I'm damned sleepy, and I'm going to bed. Youlocate Keith to-morrow, and then, when you're sober, we'll figure outhow we can get to him best; I've got to set Christie right. Good-night, Bill. "

He went out into the hall and down the creaking stairs, the man hewanted so badly listening to his descending footsteps, half tempted tofollow. Scott did not move, perhaps had already fallen drunkenly asleepon his chair, and finally Keith crossed his own room, and lay down. Thedin outside continued unabated, but the man's intense weariness overcameit all, and he fell asleep, his last conscious thought a memory of Hope. 

Chapter XX. Hope Goes to Sheridan

The discovery of the locket which had fallen from about Keith's neckmade it impossible for Hope to remain quietly for very long in the hotelat Fort Larned. The more carefully she thought over the story ofthat murder at the Cimmaron Crossing, and Keith's tale of how he haddiscovered and buried the mutilated bodies, the more assured she becamethat that was where this locket came from, and that the slain freightermust have been her own father. She never once questioned the truth ofKeith's report; there was that about the man which would not permit ofher doubting him. He had simply failed to mention what he removed fromthe bodies, supposing this would be of no special interest. 

Mrs. Murphy, hoping thus to quiet the apprehensions of her charge, set herself diligently at work to discover the facts. As her house wasfilled with transients, including occasional visitors from Carson City, and was also lounging headquarters for many of the officers from thenear-by fort, she experienced no difficulty in picking up all thefloating rumors. Out of these, with Irish shrewdness, she soon managedto patch together a consistent fabric of fact. 

"Shure, honey, it's not so bad the way they tell it now, " she explained, consolingly. "Nobody belaves now it was yer father that got kilt. It wastwo fellers what stole his outfit, clothes an' all, an' was drivin' offwid 'em inter the sand hills. Divil a wan does know who kilt 'em, butthere's some ugly stories travellin' about. Some says Injuns; some saysthe posse run 'em down; an' Black Bart an' his dirthy outfit, they swearit was Keith. Oi've got me own notion. Annyhow, there's 'bout threehundred dollars, some mules, an' a lot o' valyble papers missin'. "

"But if it wasn't father, where is he now?"

"That's what Oi've been tryin' ter foind out. First off he went out tothe Cimmaron Crossing, gyarded by a squad o' cavalry from the forthere. Tommy Caine wint along, an' told me all about it. They dug upthe bodies, but niver a thing did they find on 'em--not a paper, nora dollar. They'd bin robbed all roight. The owld Gineral swore loikea wild mon all the way back, Tommy said, an' the first thing he didat Carson City was to start huntin' fer 'Black Bart. ' He was two daysgittin' on the trail av him; then he heard the feller was gone awaytrapsing after a singin' or dancin' gyurl called Christie Maclaire. Shewas supposed to be ayther at Topeky or Sheridan. A freighter told theowld man she was at Sheridan, an' so he started there overland, hopin'ter head off 'Black Bart. ' Oi reckon we could a towld mor 'n that. "

"What do you mean?"

"Why shure, honey, what's the use tryin' ter decave me? Didn't JackKeith, wid his own lips, tell me ye was Christie Maclaire?"

"But I'm not! I'm not, Mrs. Murphy. I don't even know the woman. It issuch a strange thing; I cannot account for it--both those men mistook mefor her, and--and I let them. I didn't care who the man Hawley supposedme to be, but I intended to have told Mr. Keith he was mistaken. I don'tknow why I didn't, only I supposed he finally understood. But I want youto believe, Mrs. Murphy--I am Hope Waite, and not Christie Maclaire. "

"It's little the loss to ye not ter be her, an' Oi'm thinkin' loikelyJack Keith will be moighty well plased ter know the truth. What's 'BlackBart' so ayger ter git hold av this Maclaire gyurl fer?"

"I do not in the least know. He must have induced me to go to that placein the desert believing me to be the other woman. Yet he said nothing ofany purpose; indeed, he found no opportunity. "

Mrs. Murphy shook her head disparagingly. 

"It was shure some divilment, " she asserted, stoutly. "He'll be up tosome thrick wid the poor gyurl; Oi know the loikes av him. Shure, thetwo av yez must look as much aloike as two payes in a pod. Loikely now, it's a twin sister ye've got?"

Hope smiled, although her eyes were misty. 

"Oh, no; Fred and I were the only children; but what shall I do? Whatought I to do?"

The Irish mouth of Kate Murphy set firmly, her blue eyes burning. 

"It's not sthrong Oi am on advisin', " she said, shortly, "but if itwas me Oi'd be fer foindin' out what all this mix-up was about. There'ssomethin' moighty quare in it. It's my notion that Hawley's got hold avthim papers av yer father's. The owld gint thinks so, too, an' that'swhy he's so hot afther catchin' him. May the divil admoire me av Oi knowwhere this Maclaire gyurl comes in, but Oi'll bet the black divil hasget her marked fer some part in the play. What would Oi do? Be goory, Oi'd go to Sheridan, an' foind the Gineral, an' till him all I knew. Maybe he could piece it together, an' guess what Hawley was up ter. "

Hope was already upon her feet, her puzzled face brightening. 

"Oh, that is what I wanted to do, but I was not sure it would be best. How can I get there from here?"

"Ye'd have ter take the stage back to Topeky; loikely they'd be runnin'thrains out from there on the new road. It'll be aisy fer me ter foindout from some av the lads down below. "

The only equipment operating into Sheridan was a construction train, with an old battered passenger coach coupled to the rear. A squad ofheavily armed infantrymen rode along, as protection against possibleIndian raiders, but there was no crowd aboard on this special trip, asall construction work had been suspended on the line indefinitely, andmost of the travel, therefore, had changed to the eastward. The coachused had a partition run through it, and, as soon as the busy trainmendiscovered ladies on board, they unceremoniously drove the more bibulouspassengers, protesting, into the forward compartment. This left Hope incomparative peace, her remaining neighbors quiet, taciturn men, whomshe looked at through the folds of her veil during the long, slow, exasperating journey, mentally guessing at their various occupations. It was an exceedingly tedious, monotonous trip, the train slackeningup, and jerking forward, apparently without slightest reason; thenoccasionally achieving a full stop, while men, always under guard, wentahead to fix up some bit of damaged track, across which the engineerdared not advance. At each bridge spanning the numerous small streams, trainmen examined the structure before venturing forward, and at eachstop the wearied passengers grew more impatient and sarcastic, a perfectstream of fluent profanity being wafted back whenever the door betweenthe two sections chanced to be left ajar. 

Hope was not the only woman on board, yet a glance at the others wassufficient to decide their status, even had their freedom of mannerand loud talking not made it equally obvious. Fearful lest she might bemistaken for one of the same class, she remained in silence, her veilmerely lifted enough to enable her to peer out through the grimy windowat the barren view slipping slowly past. This consisted of the bareprairie, brown and desolate, occasionally intersected by some smallwatercourse, the low hills rising and falling like waves to the farhorizon. Few incidents broke the dead monotony; occasionally a herd ofantelope appeared in the distance silhouetted against the sky-line, andonce they fairly crept for an hour through a mass of buffalo, grazing soclose that a fusillade of guns sounded from the front end of the train. A little farther along she caught a glimpse of a troop of wild horsesdashing recklessly down into a sheltering ravine. Yet principally allthat met her straining eyes was sterile desolation. Here and there agreat ugly water tank reared its hideous shape beside the track, theengine always pausing for a fresh supply. Beside it was invariably apile of coal, a few construction cars, a hut half buried under earth, loop-holed and barricaded, with several rough men loafing about, heavilyarmed and inquisitive. A few of these points had once been terminal, thesurrounding scenery evidencing past glories by piles of tin cans, andall manner of debris, with occasionally a vacant shack, left desertedand forlorn. 

Wearied and heartsick, Hope turned away from this outside dreariness tocontemplate more closely her neighbors on board, but found them scarcelymore interesting. Several were playing cards, others moodily staring outof the windows, while a few were laughing and talking with the girls, their conversation inane and punctuated with profanity. One man wasfiguring on a scratch pad, and Hope decided he must be an engineeremployed on the line; others she classed as small merchants, saloon-keepers, and frontier riff-raff. They would glance curiouslyat her as they marched up and down the narrow aisle, but her veil, and averted face, prevented even the boldest from speaking, Once sheaddressed the conductor, and the man who was figuring turned and lookedback at her, evidently attracted by the soft note of her voice. But hemade no effort at advances, returning immediately to his pad, obliviousto all else. 

It was growing dusk, the outside world, now consisting of level plains, fading into darkness, with a few great stars burning overhead. Trainsmenlit the few smoking oil lamps screwed against the sides of the car, andits occupants became little more than dim shadows. All by this timewere fatigued into silence, and several were asleep, finding such smallcomfort as was possible on the cramped seats. Hope glanced toward theheretofore noisy group at the rear--the girl nearest her rested withunconscious head pillowed upon the shoulder of her man friend, and bothwere sleeping. How haggard and ghastly the woman's powdered face looked, with the light just above it, and all semblance of joy gone. It wasas though a mask had been taken off. Out in the darkness the enginewhistled sharply and then came to a bumping stop at some desert station. Through the black window a few lanterns could be seen flickering about, and there arose the sound of gruff voices speaking. The sleepersinside, aroused by the sharp stop, rolled over and swore, seekingeasier postures. Then the front door opened, and slammed shut, and a newpassenger entered. He came down the aisle, glancing carelessly at theupturned faces, and finally sank into the seat directly opposite Hope. He was a broad shouldered man, his coat buttoned to the throat, withstrong face showing clearly beneath the broad hat brim and lighted upwith a pair of shrewd, kindly eyes. The conductor came through, noddedat him, and passed on. Hope thought he must be some official of theroad, and ventured to break the prolonged silence with a question:

"Could you tell me how long it will be before we reach Sheridan?"

She had partially pushed aside her veil in order to speak more clearly, and the man, turning at sound of her voice, took off his hat, hissearching eyes quizzical. 

"Well, no, I can't, madam, " the words coming with a jerk. "For I'm notat all sure we'll keep the track. Ought to make it in an hour, however, if everything goes right. Live in Sheridan?"

She shook her head, uncertain how frankly to answer. 

"No loss to you--worst place to live in on earth--no exceptions--Iknow--been there myself three months--got friends there likely?"

"I hardly know, " she acknowledged doubtfully. "I think so, but I shallhave to hunt some place in which to stay to-night. Can you tell me ofsome--some respectable hotel, or boarding house?"

The man wheeled about, until he could look at her more clearly. 

"That's a pretty hard commission, Miss, " he returned uneasily: "Theremay be such a place in Sheridan, but I have never found it. Old MotherShattuck keeps roomers, but she won't have a woman in the house. Ireckon you 'll have to try it at the hotel--I'll get you in there if Ihave to mesmerize the clerk--you'll find it a bit noisy though. "

"Oh, I thank you so much. I don't mind the noise, so it is respectable. "

He laughed, good humoredly. 

"Well I don't propose to vouch for that--the proprietor ain't out therefor his health--but, I reckon, you won't have no serious trouble--theboys mostly know a good woman when they see one--which isn'toften--anyhow, they're liable to be decent enough as long as I vouch foryou. "

"But you know nothing of me. "

"Don't need to--your face is enough--I'll get you the room all right. "

She hesitated, then asked:

"Are you--are you connected with the railroad??'

"In a way, yes--I'm the contract surgeon--had to dig a bullet out ofa water-tank tender back yonder--fellow howled as though I was killinghim--no nerve--mighty poor stuff most of the riff-raff out here--ballwasn't in much below the skin--Indian must have plugged him from the topof the bluff--blame good shot too--ragged looking slug--like to see it?"

She shook her head energetically. 

"Don't blame you--nothing very uncommon--get a dozen cases like it a daysometimes--stay in Sheridan, show you something worth while--very prettysurgical operation to-morrow--come round and get you if you care to seeit--got to open the stomach--don't know what I'll find--like to go?"

"Oh, no! I'm sure you mean it all kindly, but--but I would rather not. "

"Hardly supposed you would--only knew one woman who cared for that sortof thing much--she was nursing for me during the war--had a hare lipand an eye like a dagger--good nurse though--rather have your kindround me--ever nurse any? Could get you a dozen jobs in Sheridan--newprospects every night--fifty dollars a week--what do you say?"

"But I'm not seeking work, Doctor, " smiling in spite of herbewilderment. "I have money enough with me. "

"Well, I didn't know--thought maybe you wanted a job, and didn't like toask for it--have known 'em like that--no harm done--if you ever do wantanything like that, just come to me--my name's Fairbain--everybody knowsme here--operated on most of 'em--rest expect to be--Damn that engineer. I don't believe he knows whether he's going ahead or backing up. " Hepeered out of the window, pressing his face hard against the glass. "Ireckon that's Sheridan he's whistling for now--don't be nervous--I'llsee you make the hotel all right. "

Chapter XXI. The Marshal of Sheridan

It was called a depot merely through courtesy, consisting of a layerof cinders, scattered promiscuously so as to partially conceal theunderlying mud, and a dismantled box car, in which presided ticketagent and telegrapher. A hundred yards below was the big shack wherethe railroad officials lodged. Across the tracks blazed invitinglythe "First Chance" saloon. All intervening space was crowded with men, surging aimlessly about in the glare of a locomotive head light, andgreeting the alighting passengers with free and easy badinage. Strangeror acquaintance made no difference, the welcome to Sheridan was noisilyextended, while rough play and hoarse laughter characterized the mass. 

Hope paused on the step, even as Dr. Fairbain grasped her hand, dinnedby the medley of discordant sounds, and confused by the vociferous jamof humanity. A band came tooting down the street in a hack, a fellow, with a voice like a fog horn, howling on the front seat. The fellowsat the side of the car surged aside to get a glimpse of this newattraction, and Fairbain, taking quick advantage of the opportunity thuspresented, swung his charge to the cinders below. Bending before her, and butting his great shoulders into the surging crowd, he succeeded inpushing a passage through, thus finally bringing her forth to the edgeof the street. 

"Hey, there, " he said shortly, grabbing a shirt-sleeved individual bythe arm. "Where's Charlie?"

The fellow looked at him wonderingly. 

"Charlie? Oh, you mean the 'Kid'? Well, he ain't here ter-night; had aweddin', an' is totin' the bridal couple 'round. "

Fairbain swore discreetly under his breath, and cast an uncertain glanceat the slender figure shrinking beside him. The streets of Sheridan werenot over pleasant at night. 

"Only hack in town is somewhere else, Miss, " he explained briefly. "Ireckon you and I will have to hoof it. "

He felt the grip of her fingers on his sleeve. 

"The boys are a little noisy, but it's just their way--don't meananything--you hang on to me, an' keep the veil down--we 'll be there inthe shake of a dog's tail. "

He helped her over the muddy crossing, and as they reached a stretch ofboard walk, began expatiating on the various places lining the way. 

"That's the 'Mammoth' over there, --dance hall back of it--biggest thingwest of the Missouri--three men killed there last week--what for? Oh, they got too fresh--that's the 'Casino, ' and the one beyond is 'PonyJoe's Place'--cut his leg off since I've been here--fight over a girl. Ain't there any stores?--sure; they're farther back--you see the saloonsgot in first--that's 'Sheeny Mike's' gambling joint you're lookingat--like to go over and see 'em play? All right, just thought I'd askyou--it's early anyhow, and things wouldn't be goin' very lively yet. Say, there, you red head, what are you trying to do?"

The fellow had lurched out of the crowd in such a manner as to brushpartially aside the girl's veil, permitting the glare of "Sheeny Mike's"lights to fall full upon her revealed face. It was accomplished soopenly as to appear planned, but before he could reel away again, Fairbain struck out, and the man went down. With an oath he was on hisfeet, and Hope cowered back against her protector. Each man had weaponsdrawn, the crowd scurrying madly to keep out of the line of fire, when, with a stride, a new figure stepped quietly in between them. Straightas an arrow, broad shouldered, yet small waisted as a woman, his hairhanging low over his coat-collar, his face smooth shaven except for along moustache, and emotionless, the revolvers in his belt untouched, he simply looked at the two, and then struck the revolver out of thedrunken man's hand. It fell harmless to the ground. 

"And don't you pick it up until I tell you, Scott, " he said quietly. "Ifyou do you've got to fight me. "

Without apparently giving the fellow another thought, he wheeled andfaced the others. 

"Oh, it's you, is it, Doctor? The drunken fool won't make any moretrouble. Where were you taking the lady?"

"To the hotel, Bill. "

"I'll walk along with you. I reckon the boys will give us plenty ofroom. " He glanced over the crowd, and then more directly at Scott. 

"Pick up your gun!" the brief words snapping out. "This is the secondtime I've caught you hunting trouble. The next time you are going tofind it. I saw you run into the lady--what did you do it for?"

"I only wanted to see who she was, Bill. "

"You needn't call me Bill. I don't trot in your class. My name isHickock to you. Was it any of your affair who she was?"

"I reckoned I know'd her, and I did. "

The marshal turned his eyes toward Hope, and then back upon Scott, evidently slightly interested. 

"So? Recognized an old friend, I suppose?"

The slight sneer in "Wild Bill's" soft voice caused Scott to flame up insudden passion. 

"No, I didn't! but I called the turn just the same--she's ChristieMaclaire. "

The marshal smiled. 

"All right, little boy, " he said soberly. "Now you trot straight alongto bed. Don't let me catch you on the street again to-night, and I'dadvise you not to pull another gun--you're too slow on the triggerfor this town. Come along, Doctor, and we'll get Miss Maclaire to herhotel. "

He shouldered his way through the collected crowd, the others following. Hope endeavored to speak, to explain to Fairbain who she actually was, realizing then, for the first time, that she had not previously givenhim her name. Amidst the incessant noise and confusion, the blaring ofbrass, and the jangle of voices, she found it impossible to make the mancomprehend. She pressed closer to him, holding more tightly to his arm, stunned and confused by the fierce uproar. The stranger steadily pushingahead of them, and opening a path for their passage, fascinated her, and her eyes watched him curiously. His name was an oddly familiar one, associated in vague memory with some of the most desperate deeds everwitnessed in the West, yet always found on the side of law and order;it was difficult to conceive that this quiet-spoken, mild-eyed, gentlysmiling man could indeed be the most famous gun fighter on the border, hated, feared, yet thoroughly respected, by every desperado betweenthe Platte and the Canadian. Beyond the glare and glitter of theMetropolitan Dance Hall the noisy crowd thinned away somewhat, and themarshal ventured to drop back beside Fairbain, yet vigilantly watchedevery approaching face. 

"Town appears unusually lively to-night, Bill, " observed the lattergravely, "and the boys have got an early start. "

"West end graders just paid off, " was the reply. "They have beenwhoopin' it up ever since noon, and are beginning to get ugly. Now therest of the outfit are showing up, and there will probably be somethinginteresting happening before morning. Wouldn't mind it so much if I hada single deputy worth his salt. "

"What's the matter with Bain?"

"Nothing, while he was on the job, but 'Red' Haggerty got him in 'PonyJoe's' shebang two hours ago; shot him in the back across the bar. Nednever even pulled his gun. "

"I'm sorry to hear that; what became of Haggerty?"

The marshal let his eyes rest questioningly on the doctor's face for aninstant. 

"Well, I happened to be just behind Ned when he went in, " he saidgently, "and 'Red' will be buried on 'Boots Hill' to-morrow. I'm afraidI don't give you much chance to show your skill, Doc, " with a smile. 

"If they all shot like you do, my profession would be useless. What'sthe matter with your other deputies?"

"Lack of nerve, principally, I reckon; ain't one of 'em worth the powderto blow him up. I'd give something just now for a fellow I had down atDodge--he was a man. Never had to tell him when to go in; good judgmenttoo; wasn't out hunting for trouble, but always ready enough to take hisshare. Old soldier in our army, Captain I heard, though he never talkedmuch about himself; maybe you knew him--Jack Keith. "

"Well, I reckon, " in quick surprise, "and what's more to the point, he'shere--slept in my room last night. "

"Keith here? In Sheridan? And hasn't even hunted me up yet? That's likehim, all right, but I honestly want to see the boy. Here's your hotel. Shall you need me any longer?"

"Better step in with us, Bill, " the doctor advised, "your moralinfluence might aid in procuring the lady a decent room. "

"I reckon it might. "

They passed together up the three rickety steps leading into the fronthall, which latter opened directly into the cramped office; to the leftwas the wide-open barroom, clamorous and throbbing with life. A narrowbench stood against the wall, with a couple of half drunken men loungingupon it. The marshal routed them out with a single, expressive gesture. 

"Wait here with the lady, Fairbain, " he said shortly, "and I'll arrangefor the room. "

They watched him glance in at the bar, vigilant and cautious, and thenmove directly across to the desk. 

"Tommy, " he said genially to the clerk. "I've just escorted a lady herefrom the train--Miss Maclaire--and want you to give her the very bestroom in your old shebang. "

The other looked at him doubtfully. 

"Hell, Bill, I don't know how I'm goin' to do that, " acknowledged. "Shewrote in here to the boss for a room; said she'd be along yesterday. Well, she didn't show up, an' so to-night we let a fellow have it. He'sup there now. "

"Well, he'll have to vamose--who is he?"

"Englishman--'Walter Spotteswood Montgomery, '" consulting his book. "Hell of a pompous duck; the boys call him 'Juke Montgomery. '"

"All right; send some one up to rout his lordship out lively. "

Tommy shuffled his feet, and looked again at the marshal; he hadreceived positive orders about that room, and was fully convinced thatMontgomery would not take kindly to eviction. But Hickock's quiet grayeyes were insistent. 

"Here, 'Red, '" he finally called to the burly porter, "hustle up to'15, ' an' tell that fellow Montgomery he's got to get out; tell him wewant the room for a lady. "

Hickock watched the man disappear up the stairs, helped himselfcarefully to a cigar out of the stand, tossing a coin to the clerk andthen deliberately lighting up. 

"Think Montgomery will be pleased?" he asked shortly. 

"No; he'll probably throw 'Red' down stairs. "

The marshal smiled, his glance turning expectantly in that direction. 

"Then perhaps I had better remain, Tommy. " And he strolled nonchalantlyover to the open window, and stood there looking quietly out, a spiralof blue smoke rising from his cigar. 

They could distinctly hear the pounding on the door above, andoccasionally the sound of the porter's voice, but the straight, erectfigure at the window remained motionless. Finally "Red" came down, nursing his knuckles. 

"Says he'll be damned if he will--says he's gone to bed, an' that thereain't a cussed female in this blasted country he'd git up for, " hereported circumstantially to the clerk. "He told me to tell you togo plumb to hell, an' that if any one else come poundin' 'round tharto-night, he'd take a pot shot at 'em through the door. 'Fifteen' seemeda bit peevish, sir, an' I reckoned if he was riled up much more, hemight git rambunctious; his language was sure fierce. "

"Wild Bill" turned slowly around, still calmly smoking, his eyesexhibiting mild amusement. 

"Did you clearly inform Mr. --ah--Montgomery that we desired the roomfor the use of a lady?" he questioned gently, apparently both pained andshocked. 

"I did, sir. "

"It surprises me to find one in our city with so little regard forthe ordinary courtesies of life, Tommy. Perhaps I can persuade thegentleman. "

He disappeared up the stairs, taking them deliberately step by step, thecigar still smoking between his lips. "Red" called after him. 

"Keep away from in front of the door, Bill; he'll shoot sure, for hecocked his gun when I was up there. "

Hickock glanced back, and waved his hand. 

"Don't worry--the room occupied by Mr. --ah--Montgomery was '15, ' Ibelieve you said?"

Whatever occurred above, it was over with very shortly. Those listeningat the foot of the stairs heard the first gentle rap on the door, anoutburst of profanity, followed almost instantly by a sharp snap, asif a lock had given way, then brief scuffling mingled with the loudcreaking of a bed. Scarcely a minute later the marshal appeared onthe landing above, one hand firmly gripped in the neck-band of anundershirt, thus securely holding the writhing, helpless figure of aman, who swore violently every time he could catch his breath. 

"Any other room you could conveniently assign Mr. --ah--Montgomery to, Tommy?" he asked pleasantly. "If he doesn't like it in the morning, hecould be changed, you know. "

"Give--give him '47. '"

"All right. I'm the bell-boy temporarily, Montgomery; easy now, myman, easy, or I'll be compelled to use both hands. 'Red, ' carry thegentleman's luggage to '47'--he has kindly consented to give up his oldroom to a lady--come along, Montgomery. "

It was possibly five minutes later when he came down, still smoking, hisface not even flushed. 

"Montgomery is feeling so badly we were obliged to lock him in, " hereported to the clerk. "Seems to be of a somewhat nervous disposition. Well, good-night, Doctor, " he lifted his hat. "And to you, Miss, pleasant dreams. "

Hope watched him as he stepped outside, pausing a moment in the shadowsto glance keenly up and down the long street before venturing downthe steps. This quiet man had enemies, hundreds of them, desperate andreckless; ceaseless vigilance alone protected him. Yet her eyes only, and not her thoughts, were riveted on the disappearing marshal. Sheturned to Fairbain, who had risen to his feet. 

"I wish I might see him, also, " she said, as though continuing aninterrupted conversation. 

"See him? Who?"

"Mr. Keith. I--I knew him once, and--and, Doctor, won't you tell him Ishould like to have him come and see me just--just as soon as he can. "

Chapter XXII. An Interrupted Interview

Miss Christie Maclaire, attired in a soft lounging robe, her luxurianthair wound simply about her head, forming a decidedly attractivepicture, gazed with manifest dissatisfaction on the bare walls of herroom, and then out through the open window into the comparativelyquiet street below. The bar-tender at the "Palace, " directly opposite, business being slack, was leaning negligently in the doorway. His rovingeyes caught the fair face framed in the window, and he waved his handencouragingly. Miss Christie's big brown eyes stared across at him insilent disgust, and then wandered again about the room, her foot tappingnervously on the rag carpet. 

"It's my very last trip to this town, " she said decisively, her red lipspressed tightly together. 

Miss Maclaire had indeed ample reason to feel aggrieved over herreception. She had written to have the best apartment in the housereserved for her, and then, merely because she had later been invitedout to Fort Hays, and was consequently a day behind in arrival, haddiscovered that another woman--a base imposter, actually masqueradingunder her name--had been duly installed in the coveted apartment. Driving in from the fort that morning, accompanied by two of the moresusceptible junior officers, conscious that she had performed mostartistic work the evening before in the spacious mess-hall, and feelingconfident of comfortable quarters awaiting her, it had been somethingof a shock to be informed by the perturbed clerk that "15" was alreadyoccupied by another. "A lady what come in last night, and I naturallysupposed it was you. "

In vain Miss Maclaire protested, ably backed by the worshipful officerswho still gallantly attended her; the management was obdurate. Thenshe would go up herself, and throw the hussy out. Indeed, too angry forbantering further words, Christie had actually started for the stairs, intending to execute her threat, when the perspiring Tommy succeeded instopping her, by plainly blurting out the exact truth. 

"Don't you ever do it, " he insisted. "The marshal brought her in here, and fired a fellow out o' the room so as to give it to her. He'd cleanout this house if we ran in a cold deck on a friend o' his. "

"What do I care for what your marshal does?"

"But he's Bill Hickock, Miss, 'Wild Bill. '"

Miss Maclaire leaned back against the stair-rail, her eyes turning fromTommy to her speechless supporters. Slowly the truth seemed to penetrateher brain. 

"Oh, " she gasped at last. "Then--then what else can you give me?"

The officers had long since departed, promising, however, to remain overin town and hear her again that night at the Trocadero, with hints asto a late supper; she had received a call from the manager of that mostpopular resort, and had rendered his life miserable by numerous demands;had passed half an hour practising with the leader of the orchestra; butnow was at last alone, tired, decidedly irritable, and still tempted toinvade "15, " and give that other woman a piece of her mind. Then someonerapped on the door. There was a decided accent of vexation in the voicewhich bade the one outside enter, but the lady's mood changed swiftlyas her brown eyes perceived standing in the doorway the erect form ofKeith, the light from the window revealing clearly his strong face. The man stood hat in hand, bowing slightly, unable to comprehend whyhe should have been sent for, yet marvelling again at the remarkableresemblance between this woman and that other whom he had left atFort Larned. As Miss Maclaire stood with back toward the window, shepresented the same youthful appearance, the same slenderness of figure, the same contour of face. 

"Miss Christie Maclaire?" he asked, as though in doubt. 

"Yes, " graciously, won instantly by the man's appearance and manner, "you wished to see me? Will you be seated?"

He crossed the narrow room to the stiff-backed chair indicated, andthe lady sank negligently down into her own, resting her head against apillow, and regarding him expectantly. He could view her now much moredistinctly, observing the slight difference in age, the fuller lips, thedarker shade of the hair, and the varied expression of the eyes. It wasas if a different soul looked forth from the same face. He had neverbefore realized how little, apparently trifling, details marked thehuman countenance, and, embarrassed by her own scrutiny, his glanceswept about the room. Misunderstanding this shifting of eyes, MissChristie sought to place the man more at ease. 

"The room is a perfect fright, " she observed briskly, "but what can oneexpect in these mushroom towns? Really I had never been here before, orI shouldn't have come. They pay good money though for talent, and we allhave to live, you know. Are--are you in professional work?"

He shook his head, smiling, somewhat perplexed at his reception. 

"Really I didn't suppose you were, " she went on, "you don't look it. But there are so many who come to me to help them, that I have grownsuspicious of every stranger. May I ask why you desired to see me?"

Another suspicion had taken possession of her mind, for the men of thatsection were never backward in exhibiting admiration, yet somehow thisman did not seem exactly of that kind. 

"I came merely because I was sent for, Miss Maclaire, " he replied, his gray eyes once again upon her face. "Doctor Fairbain gave me yourmessage; I am Jack Keith. "

She looked the complete astonishment she felt, sitting up in the chair, her eyes filled with questioning doubt. 

"Doctor Fairbain! My message! Surely you are mistaken? I know no one ofthat name, and have sent no message. "

"You did not express a desire to see me?"

She laughed, exhibiting a row of white teeth. 

"Certainly not; not until this moment was I even of the existence of Mr. Jack Keith. "

His own eyes smiled in response to the challenge of hers. 

"I can assure you the surprise was mine also, " he hastened to informher, now more at ease, as he grasped the situation. "I could notunderstand how I had become known to you, yet I pledge you my word themessage was actually brought. Of course you may suspicion otherwise, forI have seen you on the stage, and being a normal man, have wished that Icould devise some excuse for meeting you. "

"Indeed!" her eye-brows slightly uplifted. 

"Yes, I make that confession frankly, yet this call comes from no suchdesire. I had no question when I came, but what I had been sent for--youwill believe this?"

"I suppose I must, yet it seems very peculiar, " she replied, feelingconvinced that he was a gentleman, and troubled as to what she had bestdo. "Yet now that you have discovered your mistake--"

"I hope to take advantage of the opportunity, " he broke in firmly, leaning slightly forward. "May I ask you a question?"

"I could hardly prevent it, and really I do not know that I haveanything to conceal. "

"Then I will risk the effort--do you know a man named Hawley?--BartlettHawley?"

Her eyes did not falter, although a red spot shot into her cheeks, andher lips pressed together. 

"No; that is I have never met him, " she acknowledged, just a trifleconfused. "But I have received two letters signed by that name, andrather expected the gentleman would call upon me here in Sheridan duringmy engagement. Is that your mission? Were you sent by him? or are youMr. Hawley?"

"I disclaim all relation, Miss Maclaire, even friendship. You, ofcourse, know who this individual is?"

"No, " the short monosyllable was not encouraging. "His messages were ofa business character. "

"So I presumed, yet one likes to know something even of the personhe does business with. I have been acquainted with Hawley for severalyears, and have never been aware of any honorable business he has everengaged in. He is a professional gambler, known on the frontier as'Black Bart'; last night he was running a faro game across there in the'Palace. ' I cannot help wondering what kind of business such a fellowcould possibly have with you, Miss Maclaire. "

The woman's eyes flashed, hardening in their brown depths. 

"What right have you to ask?" she began indigently. "I am capable ofdeciding my own affairs. As I have told you I have never met Mr. Hawley, but I am not to be influenced against him merely by the denunciation ofan avowed enemy. He has written me of something he has discovered whichis of deep personal interest to me, and has promised to tell me thedetails, as well as place within my hands certain necessary papers. "

"I appreciate your feelings, " he said gently, as she paused, "but wouldyou mind telling me the nature of those papers?"

There was something in Keith's face which told of honesty, and inspiredconfidence. Miss Maclaire's worldly experience had given her deepinsight into the character of men, and somehow, as she looked intothe clear gray eyes, she felt impelled to answer, a vague doubt of theunknown Hawley in her mind. 

"They--they were papers to establish identity. He had discovered themby accident; they have to do with an inheritance. Really that is allI know, for he wrote very briefly, stating it would be safer to conferwith me personally--only I imagine there is a large sum involved. "

"From whose estate?"

"My grandfather's. "

"And his name was?"

"Why--why, Mr. Keith, actually I do not know. It may seem strange, but--but I cannot even tell the names of my parents; I cannot remembereither my father or mother. Oh, I do not know why I should tell you allthis! Who are you, really? Why do you ask me such questions?"

He leaned forward, touched by the woman's emotion. "Miss Maclaire, "he said gravely. "I am not prying into your life needlessly, but amendeavoring to serve you as well as others. Hawley may indeed possesspapers of great value, but if so they were not found by accident, butstolen from the body of a murdered man. These papers may possibly referto you, but if so Hawley himself does not believe it--he has simplychosen you to impersonate the right party because of physicalresemblance. "

"Resemblance to whom?"

"To a young woman, a Miss Hope. "

"But how do you know this? Why should you be interested? Are you adetective?"

"No, I am not a detective, but I cannot explain to you my interest. I amtrying to serve you, to keep you from being drawn into a plot--"

"Rather to keep me from learning the truth, Mr. Jack Keith, " she burstforth, rising to her feet indignantly. "You are here trying to prejudiceme against Mr. Hawley. He is your enemy, and you have come to mestabbing him in the back for revenge. That is your interest. Well, I amgoing to see the man, and consider what he has to say. I don't care halfso much about the money as I do to find out who I am. If he can throwany light on my early life, on my parentage, I shall be the happiestwoman in the world. I am sorry I told you anything--but I am going tosee him just the same. Perhaps he might tell me something about you. "

They were both standing, the woman's eyes flashing angrily, defiantly, her hands clinched. Keith, realizing the false position into which hehad drifted, hesitated to answer. He meant to tell her the whole storyand urge her to cooperate with him in learning the gambler's purpose. The woman impressed him as honest at heart, in spite of her life andenvironment; she was not one whom a swindler could easily dupe intobecoming a tool. 

"Miss Maclaire, " he began, determined on his course, "listen to me forjust a moment. I am--"

There was a rap at the door. The eyes of both turned that way, and thenKeith backed slowly into the darkened corner beyond the window, hisright hand thrust into the pocket of his coat. Miss Maclaire observedthe movement, her lips smiling, a red flush on either cheek. Then shestepped across the root, and opened the door. Framed against the blackbackground of the hall, his dark, rather handsome face clearly revealedas he fronted the window, his black, audacious eyes fixed appreciatinglyupon the lady, stood "Black Bart" Hawley. He saw no one but her, realized no other presence, had no thought except to make a goodimpression. He was facing a beautiful woman, whom he sought to use, andhe bowed low, hat in hand. 

"Miss Maclaire, " he said, pleasantly, "I trust you will pardon all thathas occurred between us, and permit me to explain. "

"I--I do not understand, " she replied, puzzled by these unexpectedwords. "There has nothing occurred between us, I am sure, which requiresexplanation. Have we met before?"

The man smiled. Seeing the woman's face in the shadows he was stillconvinced she was the same he had last parted with on the Salt Fork. However, if she preferred to ignore all that, and begin their relationsanew, it was greatly to his liking. It gave him insight into hercharacter, and fresh confidence that he could gain her assistance. Anyhow, he was ready enough to play her game. 

"Let us assume not, " just the slightest trace of mockery in the tone, "and begin anew. At least, you will confess the receipt of my letters--Iam Bartlett Hawley. "

She cast a half-frightened glance toward Keith, and the man, followingthe direction of her eyes, perceived the presence of the other. Hisright leg went backward, his hand dropping to the belt, his formstiffening erect. Keith's voice, low but clear in the silence, seemed tocut the air. 

"Not a motion, Hawley! I have you covered. "

"Oh, gentlemen, please don't!"

"Have no fear, Miss Maclaire; this man and I will settle our differenceselsewhere, and not in your presence. " He stepped forth into the middleof the room, revolver drawn, but held low at the hip, his watchful eyesnever deserting the gambler's face. 

"Back up against the wall, Hawley, " he commanded. "I hardly need to tellyou how I shoot, for we, at least, have met before. Now, I'm goingout, and leave you to your interview with Miss Maclaire, and I wish youhappiness and success. "

He moved across to the opening, keeping his face toward his adversary;then backed out slowly, closed the door with a snap, and sprang asideto avoid any possibility of a bullet crashing after him. No sound ofmovement from within reached his ears, however, and he walked silentlyto the head of the stairs. 

Chapter XXIII. An Unexpected Meeting

Keith paused at the landing, looking down into the deserted office, almost tempted to return and force Hawley into a confession of hispurpose. It was easy for him to conceive what would be the final resultof this interview between the artistic gambler and Miss Maclaire. Inspite of the vague suspicion of evil which the plainsman had implantedwithin the woman's mind, the other possessed the advantage, and wouldcertainly improve it. All conditions were decidedly in his favor. Hemerely needed to convince the girl that she was actually the partysought, and she would go forward, playing the game he desired, believingherself right, totally unconscious of any fraud. The very simplicity ofit rendered the plot the more dangerous, the more difficult to expose. Hawley had surely been favored by fortune in discovering this singer whochanced to resemble Hope so remarkably, and who, at the same time, wasin such ignorance as to her own parentage. She would be ready to graspat a straw, and, once persuaded as to her identity and legal rights, could henceforth be trusted implicitly as an ally. 

Realizing all this, and comprehending also how easily Hawley would winher confidence and overcome his warning by denouncing him as a fugitivefrom justice charged with murder, the temptation to return and fight itout then and there became almost overpowering. He had no fear of Hawley;indeed, physical fear had scarcely a place in his composition, but hewas not as yet sufficiently fortified with facts for the seeking of suchan encounter. He could merely guess at the truth, unable to produce anyproof with which to meet the gambler's certain denial. 

A man came in through the office, and began climbing the stairs. He wasalmost at the landing before Keith recognized him or the other glancedup. 

"Ah--seen her, I suppose?"

"Yes, " returned Keith, not thinking it worth while to mention the lady'sdenial of having sent for him, "I have just come from there. "

"Hum--thought you'd be through by this time--fine looking girl, ain'tshe?--believe I'll run in and chat with her myself. "

"I would advise you to select some other time, Doctor, " said theyounger, drily, "as the lady has a visitor at present. "

"A visitor?" his face rosy, his shrewd eyes darkening. "Ah, indeed! Ofthe male sex?"

"I judge so--'Black Bart' Hawley. "

"Good Lord!" so startled his voice broke. "Did he see you?"

"Rather; I backed him up against the wall with a gun while I made myadieu. "

"But what brought him there? Are they acquainted?"

"Don't ask conundrums, Doctor. He may be your rival with the fairlady for all I know. If he is, my sympathies are all with you. OnlyI wouldn't try to see Miss Christie just now; I'd wait for a clearerfield. Hawley is probably not in the best of humor. "

Fairbain stared into the face of the speaker, uncertain whether or nothe was being laughed at. 

"Reckon you're right, " he acknowledged at last. "Tired, anyhow--beenout all night--thought I'd like to see her again, though--finest lookingwoman I've met since I came West--remarkable eyes--well, I'll go alongto bed--see you again to-morrow, Jack. "

Keith watched the sturdy figure stomp heavily down the hall-way, looseboards creaking under his positive tread, and smiled to himself at thethought that he might have, indeed, become truly interested in the musichall singer. Somehow, the doctor did not harmonize with the conceptionof love, or fit graciously into the picture. Still, stranger matings hadoccurred, and Cupid does not ask permission before he plays pranks withhearts. Keith turned again toward the stairs, only to observe a womanslowly cross the office and commence the ascent. She was in the shadow, her face even more deeply shaded by her hat, yet he stared at her inamazement--surely, it was Miss Maclaire! Yet how could it be? He hadleft that person scarcely five minutes before in "26, " and this stairwaywas the only exit. His hand grasped the rail, his heart throbbingstrangely, as a suspicion of the truth crossed his brain. Could thisbe Hope? Could it be that she was here also? As her foot touched thelanding, she saw him, her eyes lighting up suddenly in recognition, awave of color flooding her cheeks. 

"Why, Captain Keith, " she exclaimed, extending her gloved hand frankly, "you have been to my room, and were going away. I am so glad I came intime. "

"I hardly thought to meet you, " he replied, retaining her fingers in hisgrasp. "When did you reach Sheridan?"

"Only last night. I had no idea you were here, until Doctor Fairbainchanced to mention your name. Then I at once begged him to tell you howexceedingly anxious I was to see you. You see, I was sure you would comeif you only knew. I really thought you would be here this morning, andremained in my room waiting, but there were some things I actually hadto have. I wasn't out ten minutes, so you mustn't think I sent you amessage and then forgot. "

The nature of the mistake was becoming apparent, and Keith's gray eyessmiled as they looked into the depths of the brown. 

"Your message had rather an amusing result, " he said, "as the doctorinformed me that Miss Christie Maclaire was the one who desired mypresence. "

"Miss Maclaire!" her voice exhibiting startled surprise. "Why--why--oh, I did forget; I never told him differently. Why, it was mostridiculous. " She laughed, white teeth gleaming between the parted redlips, yet not altogether happily. "Let me explain, Captain Keith, forreally I have not been masquerading. Doctor Fairbain and I arrived uponthe same train last evening. He is such a funny man, but was very nice, and offered to escort me to the hotel. I remember now that although heintroduced himself, I never once thought to mention to him my name. Thetown was very rough last night--the company had paid off the graders Iwas told--and there was no carriage, so we were compelled to walk. I--Inever saw such a mob of drunken men. One came reeling against me, andbrushed aside my veil so as to see my face. The doctor struck him, andthen the marshal came up--you know him, Bill Hickock--and the impudentfellow actually declared he knew me, that I was Christie Maclaire. Itried to explain, but they hurried me on through the crowd to the hotel, and I became confused, and forgot. Do you suppose they registered me bythat name?"

"Quite likely; at least Fairbain still believes it was the fair Christiewhom he so gallantly escorted last night. "

"How provoking, " her foot tapping the floor, a little wrinkle betweenher eyes. "It seems as though I couldn't escape that woman--doesshe--does she really look like me?"

"At a little distance, yes, " he admitted, "her form and face resembleyours very closely, but her hair is darker, her eyes have a differentexpression, and she must be five or six years older. "

"Do--do you know her well?"

"No, indeed; I have seen her several times on the stage, but never mether until a few moments ago. "

"A few moments ago! Do you mean she is here in this hotel?"

"Yes, Miss Hope, and that was what made the mistake in names solaughable. Fairbain gave me your message, but as coming from Christie. Iwas, of course, greatly surprised, yet responded. The lady very promptlydenied having sent for me, but as I was anxious to interview her myself, we managed to drift into conversation, and I must have passed a halfhour there. I might have been there still, but for an interruption. "

"Oh, indeed!" with rising inflection. 

He glanced quickly about, reminded of the situation. 

"Yes, Hawley came in, and I would prefer not to meet him here, or havehim discover you were in Sheridan. Could we not go to your room? I havemuch to tell you. "

Her questioning eyes left his face, and stared down over the rail. Aheavily built man, with red moustache, leaned against the clerk's desk, his face toward them. 

"Do you know that man?" she asked quickly. "He followed me all the timeI was shopping. I--I believe he is the same one who jostled me in thecrowd last night. "

Keith leaned past her to get a better view, but the fellow turned, andslouched away. 

"I only had a glimpse, but have no recollection of ever seeing himbefore. You heard no name?"

"'Wild Bill' called him either Scott, or Scotty--if this is the sameman. "

Keith's jaw set, the fighting light burning in his eyes. That was thename of the fellow rooming with Willoughby, the one who seemed to beHawley's special assistant. Was he here as a spy? His hands clinched onthe rail. He was anxious to go down and wring the truth out of him, butinstead, he compelled his eyes to smile, turning back to the girl. 

"A mere accident probably; but about my request? May I talk with you afew moments alone?"

She bowed, apparently still dissatisfied regarding his lengthyconversation with Christie, yet permitted him to follow down the hall. She held open the door of "15, " and he entered silently, not whollyunderstanding the change in her manner. She stood before the dresser, drawing off her gloves and removing her hat. 

"Will you be seated, Captain; the arm-chair by the window is the morecomfortable. " She turned toward him, almost shyly, yet with womanlycuriosity which would not be stilled. "Was your call upon Miss Maclairevery interesting? Did you admire her very much?"

Keith's eyes lifted to her face, his ears quick to detect the undertonein her voice. 

"Interesting? yes, for I was seeking after information, and met withsome success. As to the other question, I am not sure whether I admirethe lady or not. She is bright, pretty, and companionable, and in spiteof her profession, at heart, I believe, a good woman. But really, MissHope, I was too deeply immersed in my purpose to give her personalitymuch consideration. Among other things we spoke of you. "

"Of me? Why?"

"I told her something of our adventures together; of how both Hawleyand I had been confused. She was anxious to learn who you were, butunfortunately, I have never, even yet, heard your name. "

"You have not?"

"No; I left you at Fort Larned believing you ChristieMaclaire--supposing it your stage name, of course--and was confirmed inthis belief by finding in the holster of the saddle you had been ridingan envelope bearing that address. "

"I remember; it contained the note the man brought to me from Hawley;he had written it that way. " She crossed the room, sinking down intoa chair facing him. "And you have actually confused me with ChristieMaclaire all this while? Have never known who I was?"

He shook his head. 

"I told you to call me Hope; that is my name--I am Hope Waite. "

"Waite!" he leaned forward, startled by the possibility--"not--not--"

"Yes, " she burst in, holding out her hands, clasping the locket, "andthis was my father's; where did you get it?"

He took the trinket from her, turning it over in his fingers. Little bylittle the threads of mystery were being unravelled, yet, even now, he could not see very far. He looked up from the locket into herquestioning face. 

"Did I not tell you? No; then it was an oversight. This was about thethroat of one of the men I buried at Cimmaron Crossing, but--but, Hope, it was not your father. "

"I know, " her voice choking slightly. "Mrs. Murphy found that out; thatis why I am here. I heard my father came to Sheridan, and I wanted youto help me find him. "

He was thinking, and did not answer at once, and she went on in somealarm. 

"Do you know anything about him, Captain Keith? Where is he? Why is hehere? Don't be afraid to tell me. "

He pressed the locket back into her hand, retaining the latter, unresisted, within his own. 

"I have not seen your father, Hope, but he was certainly here a few daysago, for Fairbain met him. They were together in the army. I am going totell you all I know--it seems to be a tangled web, but the ends must besomewhere, although, I confess, I am all at sea. "

He told it slowly and simply, bringing forth his earlier suspicion, andhow he had stumbled upon facts apparently confirming them. He relatedher father's robbery, his loss of valuable papers, and the conversationbetween Hawley and Scott which led to the suspicion that these samepapers had fallen into the hands of the former, and were the basis ofhis plot. Hope listened, breathless with interest, her widely openedeyes filled with wonder. As he concluded speaking she burst forth:

"But I don't understand in the least, Captain Keith. Why did this manHawley send me to the Salt Fork?"

"He thought he was dealing with Christie Maclaire. He had some reasonfor getting her away; getting her where he could exercise influence overher. "

"Yes--yes; but who is she?"

"That is what makes the matter so hard to unravel. She doesn't evenknow herself. Hawley is going to take advantage of her ignorance inthis respect, and convince her that she is the person he wishes her torepresent--but who is the person? If we knew that we might block thegame. "

Both sat silent, striving to figure out some reasonable explanation. 

"Do you know of any special papers your father carried?" he asked. 

"No; none outside his business agreements. "

"Has anyone ever disappeared connected with your family? Did you have anolder sister?"

"Fred and I were the only children. Why should you ask that question?"

"Because something of that nature would seem to be the only rationalexplanation. Your brother must have told Hawley something--some familysecret--which he felt could be utilized to his own advantage. Thenhe saw your picture, and was immediately reminded of the remarkableresemblance between you and Christie Maclaire. Evidently this discoveryfitted into his plan, and made it possible for him to proceed. He hasbeen trying ever since to get an interview with the woman, to soundher, and find out what he can do with her. He has written letters, sufficiently explicit to make it clear his scheme is based upon a willdrawn, as he claims, by Christie's grandfather. No doubt by this timehe has fully convinced the girl that she is the rightful heiress toproperty--as he stated to Scott--valued at over a million dollars. That's a stake worth fighting for, and these two will make a hardcombination. He's got the papers, or claims to have, and they must bethe ones stolen from your father. I have been trusting you might knowsomething in your family history which would make it all plain. "

"But I do not, " decisively. "You must believe me; not so much as ahint of any secret has ever reached me. There are only the four of us, Father, Mother, Fred, and I. I am sure there can be no secret; nothingwhich I would not know. Perhaps, if I could see Miss Maclaire--"

"I am convinced that would be useless, " he interrupted, rising, andpacing across the floor. "If Hawley has convinced her of the justice ofthe claim, he will also have pledged her to secrecy. He is working outof sight like a mole, for he knows the fraud, and will never come to thesurface until everything is in readiness. I know a better way; I'llfind Fred, and bring him here. He would tell you whatever it was he toldHawley, and that will give us the clue. "

He picked up his hat from the table, but she rose to her feet, holdingforth her hands. 

"I cannot thank you enough. Captain Keith, " she exclaimed frankly. "Youare doing so much, and with no personal interest--"

"Oh, but I have. "

The long lashes dropped over the brown eyes. 

"What do you mean?"

"That I have a personal interest--in you, Hope. "

She stood silent, her bosom rising and falling to rapid breathing. 

"You don't mind my calling you Hope? I haven't got used to Miss Waiteyet. "

Her eyes met his swiftly. 

"Of course, not. Such ceremony would be foolish after all you have donefor me. Do--do you call her Christie?"

He laughed, clasping her hands closer. 

"I assure you no--she is strictly Miss Maclaire, and, " solemnly, "shallbe to the end of the chapter. "

"Oh, well, I didn't care, only that was what you called her when youwere telling me what she said. Are you going?"

"Yes, to find Fred; the sooner we can get this straightened out, thebetter. "

Chapter XXIV. A Mistake in Assassination

Let his future be what it might, Jack Keith would never again forgetthe girl who held the door open for his passage with one hand, her otherclasped in his. Interested before, yet forcing himself into indifferencenow that he knew who she really was, the man made full surrender. It wasa struggle that kept him from clasping the slender figure in his arms, and pouring forth the words of tenderness which he sternly choked back. This was neither the time, nor the place, yet his eyes must have spoken, for Hope's glance fell, and her cheeks grew crimson. 

"I do not need to pledge you to return this time, do I?" she questioned, her voice trembling. 

"No, " he answered, "nor any time again. "

The hall was deserted, but a few men loitered in the office. Keithrecognized none of the faces, and did not stop to make any inquiries ofthe clerk. It was growing dark, the lights already burning, and fromthe plashing of drops on the window, it must be raining outside. Hawleywould surely have ended his call upon Miss Maclaire long before this, and left the hotel. However interesting his communication might haveproven, she must fill her evening engagement at the Trocadero, and wouldrequire time for supper and rest. As to the result of that interviewthere could be little doubt. Providing the gambler possessed the properpapers he would have small difficulty in convincing the girl that shewas indeed the one sought. Keith had probed sufficiently into her mindto feel assured that her inclination was to side with Hawley. Under allthe circumstances this was natural enough, and he did not blame her. 

He glanced into the bar-room as he passed, not in any anticipation, butmerely from the vigilance which becomes second nature upon the frontier. Hawley stood leaning against the bar, where he could see anyone passingthrough the hall. The eyes of the two men met, but the gambler nevermoved, never changed his attitude, although Keith noted that his righthand was hidden beneath the skirts of his long coat. The plainsman drewback, facing his enemy, until he reached the outer door. There was asneer on Hawley's dark sinister face like an invitation, but a memory ofthe girl he had just left, and her dependence upon him, caused Keith toavoid an encounter. He would fight this affair out in a different way. As the door opened and he slipped forth into the gloom, he brushedagainst a man apparently just entering. The gleam of light fell foran instant upon the face of the other--it was Scotty with the redmoustache. 

They had been watching for him then--what for? Hawley on the inside, and this man Scott without, were waiting to determine when he left thehotel; would probably dog his footsteps to discover where he went. Keithloosened his revolver, so as to be assured he could draw quickly, andslipped back into the shadow of the steps, his eyes on the door ofthe hotel. There was a cold, drizzly rain falling, the streets almostdeserted, appearing sodden and miserable where the lights shone forththrough saloon windows. One or two men, seeking supper, coat collarsturned up and hats drawn low over their eyes, climbed the rickety stepsand went in, but no one came out. Perhaps he was mistaken as to thepurpose of those fellows; they may have desired merely to know when heleft, or Scott's return just at that moment might have been an accident. To be sure, the hotel possessed a back exit, but he could not coverboth ends of the building, and must take his chances. It was too wet anddisagreeable to remain crouched there, now that it was evident therewas no intention of following him. With hand on the butt of his gun, suspicious and watchful, yet with scarcely a faster beat to his heart, Keith straightened up, and began splashing his way through the mud downthe street. He knew where Willoughby would be most likely found at thishour--with cronies at the "Tenderfoot"--and he meant to discover theboy, and make him confess to Hope the truth. Matters had now reached apoint where longer delay was dangerous. 

Sheridan was seemingly dead, the long street silent, gloomy, black, except for those streams of saloon light shining across pools of water. He stumbled over the irregular ground, occasionally striking patches ofwooden sidewalk or a strip of cinders. Here and there a tent flappedin the wind, which drove the drizzle into his face; somewhere ahead aswinging sign moaned as if in agony. A few wanderers ploughed throughthe muck, dim uncertain shapes appearing and vanishing in the gloom. Hehad gone a block and over, the struggle against the elements leaving himforgetful of all else, when a man reeled out of some dimly lit shackto his right, and staggered drunkenly forward a few feet in advance. Hecould barely distinguish the fellow's outlines, giving little thought tothe occurrence, for the way was unusually black along there, the saloonopposite having shades drawn. Suddenly a flash of red fire spurted intothe night, with a sharp report. It was so close at hand it blinded him, and he flung up one arm over his eyes, and yet, in that single instant, he perceived the whole picture as revealed by the red flame. He sawthe man in front go down in a heap, the projection of the building frombehind which the shot came, the end of a wagon sticking forth into thestreet which had concealed the assassin. The blinding flash, the shockof that sudden discharge, for a moment held him motionless; then heleaped forward, revolver in hand, sprang around the end of the wagon, and rushed down the dark alley between two buildings. He could seenothing, but someone was running recklessly ahead of him, and he firedin the direction of the sound, the leaping spurt of flame yielding a dimoutline of the fugitive. Three times he pressed the trigger; then therewas nothing to shoot at--the fellow had faded away into the black voidof prairie. Keith stood there baffled, staring about into the gloom, thesmoking revolver in his hand. The sound of men's voices behind was allthat reached him, and feeling the uselessness of further pursuit, heretraced his way back through the narrow passage. 

A group was gathered about the body in the rain, a single lanternglimmering. Two or three men had started down the passageway, and Keithmet them, revolvers drawn and suspicious. 

"Who are you?" snapped one sharply. "Were you doing all that shootingyonder?"

Keith recognized the voice, thankful that he did so. 

"I fired at the fellow, but he got away onto the prairie. I reckon youcouldn't have done any better, Bill. "

"Jack Keith!" and Hickock's voice had a new tone, his hand dropping onthe other's shoulder. "Never was gladder to meet a fellow in my life. Boys, this is an old deputy of mine down in Dodge. When he gives upchasin' a murderer there isn't much use our tryin'. Let's go back, andfind out how bad the fellow is hurt. While we're feelin' our way, Jack, you might tell us what you know about this affair. "

"It was just the flash of a gun, and the man dropped, " Keith explained, briefly. "I was ten or a dozen feet behind, and the fellow fired fromunder the wagon there. He must have been laying for some one--I reckon, maybe, it was me. "

"You? Then it's likely you have some notion who he was?"

"Well, if I have, Bill, " and Keith's lips were set tight, "I'm notliable to tell you. If it's the lad I think likely, I'll attend to thecase myself. You understand--this is my personal affair. "

Hickock nodded, his hand again pressing the other's shoulder

"Sure, Jack, if you feel that way. There's enough in Sheridan to keep amarshal reasonably busy, without dippin' into private matters. I ratherreckon you can take care of yourself, but if you need me, old boy I'malways right here on the job. You know that. "

"I do, Bill, and appreciate it. "

The group about the motionless body fell away, and made room for themarshal, the last man to rise saying soberly:

"He's dead all right, Hickock. I guess he never knew what hit him. Goodshootin', too, dark as it is here. "

"Had the range fixed, likely, " returned the marshal. "That's what makesit look like it was arranged for. "

He bent down, striving to distinguish the dead man's features turned upto the drizzle, but the night revealed the faintest outline. 

"Anybody know him?" There was no response, only a shuffling of feet inthe mud. "Here you man with the lantern, hold it over where I can see. There, that is better. Now, you fellows take a look, and see if some ofyou can't name the poor devil. "

They glanced down, one after the other, over Bill's shoulder, shadingtheir eyes from the rain so as to see clearer. The light of theflickering lantern streamed full on the ghastly face, but each man shookhis head, and passed on. Keith hung back, hoping some one would identifythe body, and not make it necessary for him to take part in the grewsometask. It was not likely to be any one he knew, and besides, he feltthe man had died in his stead, and he dreaded to look upon the strickenface. When the last of the group had drifted back out of the radius oflight, Hickock looked up, and saw him. 

"Here, Jack, " he said, gravely, "you better try--you might know him. "

Keith bent over, and looked down. As he did so his heart seemed to risechoking into his throat, and a blur obscured his sight. He swept a handover his eyes and dropped on his knees into the mud beside the body, staring speechless into the white face, the sightless eyes. Hickockwatching him closely, and gripped his arm. 

"What is it? Do you know him?"

"My God, yes; Fred Willoughby!"

Chapter XXV. A Reappearance of the General

Keith did not inform Hope of her brother's death until the followingmorning, but had the body properly prepared for burial, and devoted theremainder of the night to searching for General Waite and, incidentally, for both Hawley and Scott. Both Hickock and Fairbain assisted in thiseffort to learn the whereabouts of the dead boy's father, but withoutthe slightest result, nor did Keith's investigations reveal the gamblerat any of his accustomed resorts, while Scott had apparently made acomplete get-away. These disappearances merely served to convince himas to the truth of his first suspicions; Scott might have departed forgood, but Hawley would certainly reappear just so soon as assured hisname had not been mentioned in connection with the tragedy. To Neb alonedid the plainsman candidly confide his belief in the guilt of these two, and when other duties called him elsewhere, he left the negro scouringthe town for any possible reappearance of either. 

Heavy-eyed from lack of sleep, heavy-hearted with his message, yet fullydecided as to what advice he should offer, Keith returned to the hotel, and requested an interview with Hope. Although still comparativelyearly, some premonition of evil had awakened the girl, and in a very fewmoments she was prepared to receive her visitor. A questioning glanceinto his face was sufficient to assure her of unpleasant news, but, with one quick breath, she grasped his arm as though his very presenceafforded her strength. 

"How tired you look! Something has occurred to keep you out allnight--and--and I know you have brought me bad news. Don't be afraid totell me; I can bear anything better than suspense. Is it about father?"

"No, Hope, " and he took her hand, and led her to a chair. Bendingabove her he gave her the whole story of the night, and she scarcelyinterrupted with a question, sitting there dry-eyed, with only anoccasional sob shaking her slender form. As he ended, she looked up intohis face, and now he could see a mist of unshed tears in her eyes. 

"What shall I do, Captain Keith? I am all alone with this, except foryou. "

"I have considered that, Hope, " he answered, gravely, "and it seems tome your present duty is more to the living than the dead. You shouldremain here until we learn something definite regarding your father, anddiscover the truth of this conspiracy formed against him. If Fred couldknow the trouble his chance words have caused, he would wish you to dothis. With him gone, we are going to find the unravelling harder thanever. It is my judgment, Hope, your brother should be buried here. "

She shuddered, her hands pressed to her eyes. 

"Oh, on that horrible 'Boots Hill'?"

"Only temporarily, little girl, " his voice full of deepest sympathy. "Ina few weeks, perhaps, it could be removed East. "

She was silent for what seemed to him a long while; then she looked upinto his face, clinging to his arm. 

"Yes, " she said, "that will be best. "

That same afternoon, the sun low in the west, they placed the dead boyin his shallow grave on "Boots Hill. " It was a strange funeral, in astrange environment--all about the barren, deserted plains; far away tothe east and west, the darker line marking the railroad grade, and justbelow, nestled close in against the foot of the hill, the squalid townof tents and shacks. There were not many to stand beside the open grave, for few in Sheridan knew the lad, and funerals were not uncommon--somecronies, half-drunk and maudlin, awed somewhat by the presence of themarshal, Doctor Fairbain, Keith, and Hope. That was all excepting thepost chaplain from Fort Hays, who, inspired by a glimpse of the girl'sunveiled face, spoke simple words of comfort. It was all over withquickly, and with the red sun still lingering on the horizon, the littleparty slowly wended their way back, down the steep trail into the onelong street of Sheridan. 

At the hotel Neb was waiting, the whites of his eyes shining withexcitement, his pantomime indicating important news. As soon as he couldleave Hope, Keith hurried down to interview his dusky satellite, whoappeared about to burst with restrained information. As soon as uncorkedthat individual began to flow volubly:

"I sho' done seed 'em, Massa Jack; I done seed 'em both. "

"Both? Both who?"

"Massa Waite, sah, an' dat black debble dat we was huntin' fo'. It was amos' surprisin' circumstance, sah--a mos' surprisin' circumstance. "

"Well, go on; where did you see them? Do you mean they were together?"

The negro took a long breath, evidently overcome by the importance ofhis message, and unable to conjure up words wholly satisfactory to hisideas. 

"It sho' am de strangest t'ing, Massa Jack, ebber I prognosticated. Iwas jest comin' roun' de corner ob Sheeny Joe's shebang, back dar by deblacksmith shop, when--de Lawd save me!--yere come ol' Massa Waite, aridin' 'long on a cream colo'd pinto just as much alibe as ebber he was. Yas, sah; he's whiskers was blowin' round, an' I could eben yeah himcussin' de hoss, when he done shy at a man what got up sudden likefrom a cart-wheel he was settin' on. I done took one look at dat secon'fellar, and seed it was dat black debble from down Carson way. Den Iducked inter de blacksmith shop out 'er sight. I sho' didn't want MisterHawley to git no chance at dis nigger--I sho' didn't. "

"Did they speak to one another?" Keith asked, anxiously. "Did you hearwhat was said?"

"Sho' dey talked, Massa Jack. I sorter reckon dey was dar for datspecial purpose. Sutt'nly, sah, dey went right at talkin' like dey hedsom't'ing on dey minds. Ol' Massa Waite was a sittin' straight up on dehoss, an' dat black debble was a standin' dar in front ob him. Ol'Massa Waite he was mad from de first jump off, an' I could heah mosteberyt'ing he said, but Mr. Hawley he grin de same way he do when hedeal faro, an' speaks kinder low. De ol' man he swear fine at him, hecall him eberyt'ing--a damn liar, a damn scoundrel--but Mr. Hawley hejest grin, and say ober de same ting. "

"What was that, Neb?"

"Som't'ing 'bout a gal, Massa Jack--an' a law suit--an' how de ol' manbetter settle up widout no fightin'. I jest didn't git de whole ob it, he talked so low like. "

"What did Waite say?"

"Well, mostly he jest cussed. He sho' told dat black debble 'bout whathe thought ob him, but he didn't nebber once call him Hawley--no, sah, not once; he done call him Bartlett, or somet'ing or odder like dat. But he sutt'nly read dat man's pedigree from way back to de time obde flood, I reck'n. An' he done swore he'd fight for whatebber itwas, papers or no papers. Den Hawley, he got plumb tired ob de ol' manswearin' at him, an' he grabbed a picter out ob he's pocket, an' says, 'Damn you; look at dat! What kind ob a fight can yo' make against datface?' De ol' man stared at it a while, sorter chokin' up; den he saysofter like: 'It's Hope; where did yo' ebber get dat?' and de blackdebble he laughed, an' shoved de picter back into he's pocket. 'Hope, hell!' he say, 'it's Phyllis, an' I'll put her before any jury yo'remind to get--oh, I've got yo' nailed, Waite, dis time. '"

"Was that all?"

"De ol' gin'ral he didn't seem ter know what ter say; he done set darlookin' off ober de prairie like he was clar flumegasted. He sho' didlook like dat black debble hed hit him mighty hard. Den he says slowlike, turnin' his hoss 'round: 'Bartlett, yo' am puttin' up a goodbluff, but, by Gawd, I'm goin' ter call yo'. Yo' don't get a cent ob datmoney 'less yo' put up de proof. I'll meet yo' whar yo' say, but ef Ican git hol' ob some papers dat's missin' I'll take dat grin off yo'face. ' De odder one laughed, an' de ol' gin'ral started fo' ter rideaway, den he pull up he's hoss, an' look back. 'Yo' sorter herd wid datkind ob cattle, Bartlett, ' he say, sharp like, 'maybe yo' know a gamblerroun' yere called Hawley?' De black debble nebber eben lose he's grin. 'Do yo' mean Black Bart Hawley?' 'Dat's the man, where is he?' 'Dealin'faro fo' Mike Kenna in Topeka a week ago--friend ob yours?' 'Dat's noneob yo' damned business, ' snorted de ol' gin'ral, givin' his hoss despur. Sho', Massa Jack, he nebber knowed he was talkin' ter dat sameHawley, an' dat black debble jest laughed as he rode off. "

"When was all this, Neb?"

"'Bout de time yo' all went up on de hill, I reck'n. I done come rightyere, and waited. "

Keith walked across the room, selected a cigar, and came back, hismind busy with the problem. Hawley had in some manner, then, got intocommunication with Waite, and was threatening him. But Waite evidentlyknew the man under another name--his given name--and the gambler hadsent him off on a false trail. The lost papers apparently contained thesolution to all this mystery. Waite believed Hawley possessed them, but did not suspect that Bartlett and Hawley were the same person. Whatwould he most naturally do now? Seek Hawley in Topeka probably; seizethe first opportunity of getting there. Keith turned impatiently to theclerk. 

"Any train running east?"

"Well, they generally start one out every day, ", with a glance towardthe clock, "'long 'bout this time. Maybe it's gone, and maybe ithasn't. "

It was already nearly dark outside as the two men hastened toward thedepot. They arrived there barely in time to see the red lights on thelast car disappear. No inquiries made of those lounging about broughtresults--they had been interested in a lot of drunken graders loaded onthe flat cars by force, and sent out under guard--and not one couldtell whether any man answering Waite's description was in the singlepassenger coach. Convinced, however, that the General would waste notime in prosecuting his search, Keith believed him already on his wayeast, and after dismissing Neb, with instructions to watch out closelyfor Hawley, he made his own way back to the hotel. 

It seemed strange enough how completely he was blocked each time, justas he thought the whole baffling mystery was about to be made clear. Hawley was playing in rare luck, all the cards running easily to hishand, thus, at least, gaining time, and strengthening his position. There could no longer be any doubt that the gambler possessed someknowledge which made him a formidable adversary. From Waite's statementit was the loss of the papers which left him helpless to openly resistthe claim being made upon him on behalf of the mysterious Phyllis. Hisonly hope, therefore, lay in recovering these; but, with time limited, he had been sent back on a wild goose chase, while Keith alone knew, with any degree of positiveness, where those documents really were. Hawley certainly had them in his possession the day before, for he hadtaken them to Miss Maclaire to thus convince her as to the truth of hisstatements. And Hawley was still in Sheridan. However, it was not likelythe man would risk carrying documents of such value, and documentsconnecting him so closely with that murder on the Santa Fé Trail, aboutupon his person. At best, life was cheap in that community, and BlackBart must possess enemies in plenty. Yet if not on his person--where?Scott was only a tool, a mere ignorant desperado, not to be trustedto such a degree--yet apparently he was the only one working withthe gambler in this deal, the only one cognizant as to his plans. Christie--Keith came to a stop in the street at the recurrence of thewoman's name. Why not? If she had been convinced, if she really believedthat these papers proved her right to both property and parentage, thenshe would guard them as a tigress does her young. And Hawley would knowthat, and must realize they would be far safer in her hands than in hispocket. She could not use them without his aid and guidance, and yet, whatever happened to him, they would still be safely beyond reach. True, this might not have been done; the gambler might not yet have felt thathe had sufficient hold upon the woman to trust her thus far, but it was, at least, a possibility to be considered, and acted upon. 

Still wrestling with the intricate problem, Keith entered thedining-room, and weaved his way, as usual, through the miscellaneouscrowd, toward the more exclusive tables at the rear. A woman sat aloneat one of these, her back toward the door. His first thought was thatit must be Hope, and he advanced toward her, his heart throbbing. She glanced up, a slight frown wrinkling her forehead, and he bowed, recognizing Christie Maclaire. 

Chapter XXVI. A Chance Conversation

The opportunity thus so unexpectedly afforded was not one to be wasted, and Keith accepted it with swift determination. The expression inthe woman's face was scarcely one of welcome, yet his purpose wassufficiently serious to cause him to ignore this with easy confidence inhimself. 

"I am, indeed, most fortunate to discover you alone, Miss Maclaire, " hesaid, avoiding her eyes by a swift glance over the table, "and evidentlyat a time when you are only beginning your meal. May I join you?"

She hesitated for an instant, debating with herself, and as quicklydeciding on disagreeable tactics. 

"I presume this is a public table, and I consequently have little choicein the matter, if you insist, " she replied, her voice more civil thanher words. "Still, Mr. Keith, I am not accustomed to associating withcriminals. "

He smiled, holding his temper in check, more than ever determined towin. 

"Then, possibly, you may rather welcome a new diversion. I can assureyou our criminals out here are the most interesting portion of ourpopulation. I wish I might have your permission. "

Standing there before her, bare-headed, his slightly tanned face strongand manly, his gray eyes filled with humor, Miss Maclaire recognizedagain that he was not of the common herd, and the innate coquetry of hernature obtained mastery. What harm could it do for her to chat with himfor half an hour? It was better than eating a lonely meal, and, besides, she might learn something of value to report to Hawley. Her own eyesbrightened, the slight frown disappearing. 

"You are certainly an illustration of your theory, " she said pleasantly. "I shall have to say yes, but, really, I did not suppose you would enjoybeing ranked among that class. "

He drew out a chair, and sat down facing her, leaning slightly forwardupon the intervening table. 

"Nor would I, only I recognize you do not comprehend. The source of yourinformation is a bit polluted, Miss Maclaire. There are those whose goodopinion I do not seek, and you should not form your decisions on theunsupported testimony of a personal enemy. "

"Oh, indeed, " rather resenting the words, and already regretful of hercompliance. "Surely I have as much reason to trust my informant as Ihave you. He, at least, has proven himself a friend. "

"I wish I could feel as fully assured of that as you do, " he returnedhonestly. "I would then have every temptation to meddle further takenaway from me. Do you realize that my interest is very largely upon youraccount?"

"Oh, no, " laughing, "I couldn't believe that. I--I have heard itwhispered it might be because of the other girl. "

"The other girl!" in complete surprise at this swift return. 

"Yes, sir, " conscious of having attained the upper hand. "Miss HopeWaite. "

"Some more of Mr. Hawley's fancies, " he retorted, perplexed that so muchshould be suspected. "Have you seen her?"

"Why, of course. I am a woman, Mr. Keith, with all the natural curiosityof my sex. In this case I had special reason to be interested. One doesnot meet her counterpart every day. "

"The resemblance between you is certainly most striking. "

"Sufficiently so, " she said slowly, her eyes on his face, "to abundantlyconfirm in my mind the truth of all that has been told me. "

The waiter approached with the orders, and the two remained in silenceuntil he had deposited his load upon the table, and departed. She waswatching the face opposite through lowered lashes that veiled her eyes, but Keith was first to break the stillness. 

"I wish I might be told what that was. "

"To what do you refer?" apparently forgetful as to where theirconversation had been broken. 

"To Hawley's proposition. "

"No doubt, " her lips smiling, "but you have come to the wrong market, Mr. Jack Keith. "

"Yet, " he insisted earnestly, "if this is all straight, with no fraudconcealed anywhere, if you have the proofs in your hands, why are youafraid to talk openly? The very manner in which Hawley works shouldconvince you he is himself afraid to face the truth. "

"No, you are wrong. There are perfectly satisfactory reasons why weshould for the present keep our plans secret. There are details yet tobe decided upon, and Mr. Hawley's present objection to publicity is onlyordinary prudence. "

She leaned toward him, her fingers playing nervously with a knife. 

"Mr. Keith, I cannot help but like you, and I also feel most kindlydisposed toward Mr. Hawley. I wish in this I was no longer compelledto consider you an enemy to us both. There is no reason why I should, except for your blind prejudice against this other man who is my friend. I know you have some cause, for he has told me the entire story, yet Iam sure he did no more than his actual duty. He let me realize how verysorry he was that the marshal at Carson City had called upon him forassistance. "

"Who? Hawley?" Keith questioned, hardly trusting his own ears. 

"Yes; indeed he is a very different man from what you have been ledto believe. I know he is a gambler, and all that, but really it is notaltogether his fault. He told me about his life, and it was very sad. He was driven from home when only a boy, and naturally drifted into evilcompany. His one ambition is, to break away, and redeem himself. I amso anxious to help him, and wish you could realize his purpose, as I do, and become his friend. Won't you, for my sake? Why, even in this affairhe has not the slightest mercenary purpose--he has only thought of whatwas rightfully mine. "

Keith listened, feeling to the full the woman's earnestness, theimpossibility of changing her fixed conviction. Hawley had planted hisseed deep and well in fruitful soil. 

"You make a strong and charming advocate, Miss Maclaire, " he returned, feeling the necessity of saying something. "I should like to have youequally earnest on my side. Yet it will be hard to convince me that'Black Bart' is the paragon of virtue you describe. I wish I mightbelieve for your sake. Did he also explain how he came into possessionof these papers?"

"Oh, yes, indeed; there is no secret about that. They were entrusted tohim by an old man whom he discovered sick in Independence, and who diedin his rooms three years ago. Mr. Hawley has been searching ever sincefor the old man's grand-daughter. It is remarkable how he was finallyconvinced that I was the one. "

"A photograph, was it not?"

A gleam of sudden suspicion appeared in the brown eyes, a slight changein facial expression. 

"That was a clue, yes, but far from being all. But why should I tell youthis?--you believe nothing I say. "

"I believe that you believe; that you are fully convinced of the justiceof your claim. Perhaps it is just, but I am suspicious of anything whichBart Hawley has a hand in. Miss Christie, you really make me wish toretain your friendship, but I cannot do so if the cost includes faithin Hawley. Do you know that is not even his name--that he lives under analias?"

"Is there anything strange in that out here?" she asked stoutly. "I toldyou how deeply he regretted his life; that alone would be sufficientcause for him to drop his family name. Did you ever learn his truename?"

He was not sure--only as Neb had reported what Waite had called the man, yet ventured a direct reply. 

"Bartlett, I believe--he uses it now as a prefix. "

"Bartlett!--Bartlett!" her hands clasping, and unclasping nervously. "Why, what a strange coincidence!"

"How? What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing--nothing, " biting her lips in vexation. "The name merelyrecalled something. But really I must go, Mr. Keith, or I shall be lateat the theatre. You have not attended since I came?"

"No, " arising from the table with her. "However, I have heard you singbefore, and hope I may again. "

"How tenderly you dwell on that word 'hope, '" she said banteringly, "italmost makes me envious. "

"Your resemblance almost makes me forget. "

"But not quite?"

"No, not quite, " he confessed, smiling back into her quizzing eyes. 

They went out into the hall together, only to meet with Doctor Fairbainat the door. The latter stared at the two with some embarrassment, fora moment forgetful of his purpose. His gaze settled on the face of thelady. 

"Always getting you two mixed, " he blurted forth. "Never saw suchresemblance--positively uncanny--same hotel too means trouble--this MissWaite?"

"No, Doctor; I am Miss Maclaire. "

"Ought to have known it--if I knew as much about faces as I do aboutanatomy never would make such mistake--very sorry--what fooled me wasseeing you with Keith--thought he was after the other one--gay dogthough--never satisfied--was hunting after you. "

"After me?" evidently amused. 

"Certainly--you--went to the room--then to the clerk--said you were inat supper--just occurred to me streets here bad at night--thoughtI'd ask you to let me escort you to theatre and back--a bit of lunchlater--" he glanced suspiciously at Keith--"probably got here too late. "

"Well really you have, Doctor, " she replied sweetly, veiling her eyesto hide their laughter. "But I can assure you it is not Mr. Keith, "courtesying slightly to the latter, "for he has not honored me; wemerely met by chance at the table. I am sure I should enjoy your companyexceedingly, but to-night I must plead a previous engagement. "

"Ah--ah, some other night?"

"With pleasure, yes. "

The doctor faded away into the office, not wholly satisfied becauseKeith still lingered. Miss Christie extended her hand. 

"Isn't he a funny man? But I do like him--someway I like so many peoplewhom perhaps I ought not, including you, Mr. Jack Keith. Please thinkover what I told you about Mr. Hawley, won't you?"

"Certainly; you have given me food for thought. I presume he is to beyour escort?"

She bowed, evidently resenting the question. 

"Yes, and it may interest you to know that he has something of theutmost importance to tell me to-night--he has actually seen my guardian. Don't you wish you could be there?"

She gave him a tantalizing smile, withdrawing her hand, and running upthe stairs before he could answer. Over the railing of the landing sheglanced down, and then disappeared. 

Chapter XXVII. Miss Hope Suggests

No sooner had Miss Maclaire vanished than Keith's thoughts turned towardHope Waite. She would need someone in her loneliness to take hermind from off her brother's death, and, besides, much had occurred ofinterest since the funeral, which he desired to talk over with her. Beyond even these considerations he was becoming aware of a pleasure inthe girl's company altogether foreign to this mystery which they wereendeavoring together to solve. He yearned to be with her, to lookinto her face, to mark how clearly the differing soul changed her fromChristie Maclaire. He could not help but like the latter, yet somehowwas conscious of totally different atmospheres surrounding the two. With one he could be flippant, careless, even deceitful, but the otheraroused only the best that was in him, her own sincerity making himsincere. 

Yet there was reluctance in his steps as he approached the door of "15, "a laggardness he could not explain, but which vanished swiftly enough atHope's greeting, and the sudden smile with which she recognized him. 

"I was sure you would come, " she declared frankly, "and I took an earlylunch so as to be certain and be here. It has seemed a long time since. "

"And you might have even thought I had forgotten, " he answered, releasing her hand reluctantly, "if you could have looked into thedining-room since, instead of staring out of these windows. "

"Why? How forgotten?" her eyes opening wide in surprise. 

"I had the pleasure of taking supper with Miss Maclaire. "

"Oh!" the exclamation decidedly expressive. 

"Yes, I come at once to you with the confession. However, our meetingwas purely accidental, and so I hope for pardon. "

"Pardon from me? Why, what difference can it possibly make to me?"

"Would you have me consort with the enemy?" he asked, scarcely daring topress his deeper meaning. 

"Oh, no, of course not. What did you talk about? Do you mind telling?"

"Not in the least; our conversation was entirely impersonal. She wastelling me about Hawley; what a wonderfully good man he is. I have begunto suspect the fellow has fascinated the poor girl--he is a good lookingdevil, possessed of a tongue dripping with honey. "

"Surely you do not mean she has fallen in love with him, " and Hopeshuddered at the thought. "Why--why that would be impossible for--for agood woman. "

"Standards of morality are not always the same, " he defended gravely. "Miss Maclaire's environment has been vastly different from yours, Hope. She is a variety hall singer; probably, from her own account, a waifsince childhood; and Hawley has come to her in the character of afriend, appealing both to her interest and sympathy. I do not know sheis in love with him, I merely suspect she may be; certainly she is readyto do battle on his behalf at the slightest opportunity. She believes inhim, defends him, and resents the slightest insinuation directed againsthim. He even escorts her back and forth from her work. "

"You know this?"

"I certainly do, " and he laughed at the recollection. "Fairbain metus coming out of the dining-room, --you know what a delightful, blunt, blundering old fellow he is! Well, Miss Christie must have made animpression even on his bachelor heart, for he actually requested theprivilege of escorting her to the Trocadero, and back to the hotelafter the performance to-night--hinted at a lunch, the gay old dog, andpranced about like a stage-door Johnnie. It was a treat to watch herface when he blurted it all out, snapping his sentences as if he swung awhip-lash. She excused herself on the score of a previous engagement. "

"But that was not necessarily with Hawley. "

"I asked her directly, after the doctor had disappeared. "

"You must have become very familiar, " questioning once again in hervoice. 

"So Miss Maclaire evidently thought, judging from her manner. Howevershe answered frankly enough, and, even defiantly, added the informationthat the gentleman had something to impart to her of the utmostimportance, sarcastically asking me if I didn't wish I could bethere and overhear. But sit down, Hope, until I tell you all that hasoccurred. "

He went over the various events in detail, watching eagerly theexpression upon her face as she listened intently, only occasionallyinterrupting with some pertinent inquiry. The light fell so that shesat partially in the shadow, where her eyes could not be read, yet heexperienced no difficulty in comprehending the various moods with whichshe met his narrative, the color changing in her cheeks, her suppleform bending toward him, or leaning backward in the chair, her fingersclasping or unclasping in nervous attention. He began with Neb's report, repeating, word by word, as nearly as he could recollect, what hadpassed between Hawley and her father. He paused to inquire if she hadever heard the name Bartlett, but her reply was merely a negativeshake of the head. When he described their missing the train, shewas, apparently, not convinced as to the General's departure upon it, although finally agreeing that, if he really believed the report thatthe man sought was elsewhere, it would be characteristic of him toaccept the first means of getting there. "If he only knew I was here, "she exclaimed wearily, "it might be so different, but, oh, we are allof us just groping in the dark. " Then Keith turned to his chance meetingwith Miss Maclaire, and repeated carefully their conversation, dwellingparticularly upon the few admissions which had slipped through her lips. These did not seem important to either, although they treasured themup and talked them over. Then, having exhausted the topic, silence fellbetween them, Keith asking the privilege of lighting a cigar. Hope, after watching him apply the match, thinking what a fine face he had asthe ruddy flame brought it forth with the clearness of a cameo, leanedback, drawing aside the semblance to a lace curtain, and staring forth, without seeing, into the street. 

Somehow it was hard for her to fully realize the situation, and howclosely it affected her. The swiftly passing events, the complicationarising so suddenly, apparently out of nothing, left her feeling asthough she must surely awake from a dream. She could not comprehend whatit was all about; the names Bartlett and Phyllis had no clear meaning, they represented nothing but shadows; and this other woman--this musichall singer--what could there be in common between them? Yet there mustbe something--something of vital importance to her father--somethingwhich had already cost her brother's life. That was the one thing whichmade it seem an actuality--which brought it home to her as a ruggedfact. But for that--and Keith--Keith sitting there before her--shewould have doubted it all. And yet even Keith had come into her lifeso suddenly, so unexpectedly, as to leave her dazed and uncertain. Sostrongly did this feeling grip her in the silence, that she extended herhand and touched him, as though to make sure of his actual presence. 

"What is it, Hope?"

"Oh, nothing--nothing, " her voice breaking in a little sob. "It is sosilly, but I was just wondering if you were real--everything seems soimpossible. I cannot bring my mind to grasp the situation. "

He did not smile, but only took the groping hand into both of his own. 

"I think I understand, little girl, " he said gravely. "You are totallyunused to such life. Almost without a moment's warning you have beenplunged into a maelstrom of adventure, and are all confused. It isdifferent with me--since the first shot at Sumter my life has been oneof action, and adventure has grown to be the stimulus I need, and uponwhich I thrive. But I assure you, " pressing the soft hand warmly, "I amreal. "

"Of course I know that; it makes me glad to know it. If I could only dosomething myself, and not just sit here, it would all become real enoughto me. "

She rose suddenly to her feet, clasping her hands together, her facechanging with new animation. 

"Why couldn't I? I am sure I could. Oh, Mr. Keith, it has just come tome how I can help. "

He looked at her questioningly, thinking of her beauty rather than ofwhat she said. 

"Do--do I really appear so much like--like that woman?" she askedanxiously. 

"Very much, indeed, excepting for the slight difference in age. "

"That would never be noticed in the dark, or a poor light. Am I the sameheight?"

"Practically, yes. "

"And my voice?--could you distinguish me from her by my voice?"

"I might; yet probably not, unless my suspicions were aroused. What isit you are thinking about?"

She took a deep breath, standing now directly facing him in the light. 

"Of playing Miss Maclaire to-night, " she said quickly. "Of taking herplace, and learning what it is of so much importance Hawley has toreport. Don't you think it might be done?"

The sheer audacity of this unexpected proposal left him speechless. Hearose to his feet, gripping the back of the chair, almost doubting ifhe could have heard aright, his eyes searching the girl's face which wasglowing with excitement. Of course he could not permit of her exposureto such a risk; the scheme was impracticable, absurd. But was it? Didit not offer a fair chance of success? And was not the possible resultworthy the risk assumed? He choked back the earlier words of protestunuttered, puzzled as to what he had best say. A quick-wittedresourceful woman might accomplish all she proposed. 

"It looks so simple, " she broke in impulsively, moving nearer him. "Don't you think I could do it? Would it be unwomanly?"

"The result, if accomplished, would abundantly justify the means, Hope, "he acknowledged at last. "I was not hesitating on that account, butconsidering the risk you would incur. "

"That would be so small--merely the short walk alone with him fromthe theatre to the hotel, " she pleaded. "Once here it could make nodifference if he did discover my identity, for there would be plenty ofmen near at hand to come to my defence. Oh, please say yes. "

"If I do, then we must make the illusion perfect, and take as fewchances of discovery as possible. I must learn exactly how the otherdresses, and when she leaves the theatre. Fortunately for the success ofyour plan the Trocadero permits no one but performers to come behind thescenes, so that Hawley will be compelled to wait for the lady outsidethe stage door. I had better go at once, and see to these details. "

"Yes, " she said, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, "and I am so gladyou are willing. I will be most discreet. You are not sorry I made theproposal?"

"Certainly not. At first it struck me as altogether wrong, but the moreI think of it the stronger it appeals to me. It may reveal to us thewhole conspiracy, and I cannot believe Hawley would venture upon anygross familiarity likely to cost him the good opinion of his ally. There is too much at stake. Wait here, Hope, and I will be back the verymoment I learn all that is necessary. "

A glance at the office clock convinced Keith that, in all probability, Miss Maclaire had not, as yet, departed for the scene of her eveningtriumph. Still, it could not be long before she would, and he lit acigar, sitting down in a corner partially concealed by the clerk'sdesk to wait her appearance. This required longer than anticipated, andfearing lest he might have missed the departure entirely, he was aboutto question the busy Thomas, when he beheld Hawley enter hurriedly fromthe street and run up the stairs. He then had been the laggard. All thebetter, as he would now have no opportunity to unfold his tale tothe lady, as it would be necessary for them to hurry to the theatre. Whatever the nature of the revelation it would have to wait until thewalk home. The excitement of the adventure was already creeping intoKeith's blood, his pulse quickening. 

The two returned almost immediately, conclusively proving that MissMaclaire, fully dressed for the street, had been awaiting the arrival ofher gallant with some impatience. Hawley was busily explaining his delayas they came down the stairs, and paid little attention to the seeminglydeserted office. Indeed, Miss Christie monopolized all his thoughts. With quick scrutiny the watcher noted the more conspicuous articles ofapparel constituting her costume--the white mantilla thrown overher head, the neatly fitting blue dress, the light cape covering theshoulders--surely it would not be difficult to duplicate these, so as topass muster under the dim light of the streets. Far enough in theirrear to feel safe from observation he followed, noting with increasedpleasure the rapidity with which they covered the required distance. Clearly Miss Christie was already nervous lest she have not sufficienttime remaining in which to properly dress for her act, and there wouldbe no exchange of confidences on the outward journey. Hawley left her, as Keith anticipated, at the stage entrance, the lady hastening within. Her escort strolled leisurely back to the front of the house, andfinally, purchasing a ticket, entered, the performance already havingbegun. 

Keith knew perfectly the arrangement of the theatre--the seats in front;tables all through the centre; a gallery filled with benches; a noisyorchestra beneath the stage; a crowded audience of men, with only hereand there a scattered representative of the gentler sex; busy waitersdodging in and out among the tables, and down the aisles, filling ordersfor liquids from the nearby saloon. The air would be pungent with theodor of drink, thick with the fumes of tobacco, and noisy with voices, except as some special favorite on the stage won temporary attention. The Trocadero possessed but one redeeming feature--no doorway connectedstage and auditorium, and the management brooked no interference withhis artists. It had required some nerve to originally enforce thisrule, together with a smart fight or two, but at this period it wasacknowledged and respected. No sooner had Hawley vanished than Keithfound occasion to enter into casual conversation with the door-keeper, asking a number of questions, and leaving impressed upon the mindof that astute individual the idea that he was dealing with a "gent"enamored of one of the stage beauties. A coin slipped quietly into theman's hand served to deepen this impression, and unlocked discreet lipsotherwise sworn to secrecy. Out of much general information a little ofreal value was thus extracted--Miss Maclaire's act began at 9:45 and wasover promptly at 10:10. It required about twenty minutes more for herto change again into street clothes, and she usually left the theatreimmediately after, which would be about 10:30. Yes, there was avestibule outside the stage door, and on bad nights, those waitingfor the ladies could slip in there. But on such a night as this theygenerally hung around outside. No, there was no watchman, but themanager was frequently prowling around. He'd be busy, however, at 10:30, getting the stage ready for the "Flying Hermanns. " Abundantly satisfiedand resisting the door-keeper's professional suggestion that he'dbetter buy a ticket and take a look at the show, Keith slipped away, andhastened back to the hotel. The more he investigated the more feasibleappeared the girl's plan, and he was now fully committed to it. 

Chapter XXVIII. The Stage Door of the Trocadero

Hope discovered very little difficulty in duplicating the outer garmentsKeith reported Miss Maclaire as wearing. The colors, indeed, werenot exactly the same, yet this difference was not sufficient to benoticeable at night by the eyes of a man who had no reason to suspectdeceit. The girl was in a flutter of nervous excitement as she hastenedabout the room, donning her few requirements of masquerade, yet Keithnoted with appreciation that she became perceptibly cooler as the momentof departure approached. With cheeks aflame and eyes sparkling, yetspeaking with a voice revealing no falter, she pressed his arm anddeclared herself prepared for the ordeal. The face under the shadowof the mantilla was so arch and piquant, Keith could not disguise hisadmiration. 

"Am I Christie Maclaire?" she asked laughingly. 

"Sufficiently so to fool our friend, " he returned, "but I am ready toswear that lady never looked so charming. "

"A compliment, and spoken as though you really meant it. "

"Have I not been honest enough with you in the past, to be credited withhonesty now?" he protested, a little hurt by the bantering tone. 

"Of course you have; I merely talk lightly to keep my courage up. Youcan have no idea how afraid I am. "

"Then you are truly an actress, for you appear the picture of enjoyment. But we must go, or Hawley will be there before us, and thus spoil allour plans. "

They passed out through the office together, seeing no one familiar toeither, Hope keeping her face partially concealed. The east side of thestreet was less frequented than the other, having fewer saloons alongits way, and they chose its darkness. As they advanced, the longhabit of frontier life caused Keith to glance behind before they hadprogressed a block, and he was thus made aware that they were beingfollowed. Conversing lightly, and without a word to alarm the girl, heyet managed to observe every movement of the dimly outlined figure whichadvanced with them, timing every motion to theirs. Long before theycrossed the street to the Trocadero he was convinced there was nomistake--the fellow, whoever he might be, was trailing them. Keithsmiled grimly to himself, resolving that, as soon as he had left thelady, he would teach the spy a lesson not soon to be forgotten. 

They barely entered the outer circle of the Trocadero lights, notinga group of men thronging about the doors, and hearing the sound of theband within, and then turned swiftly down the narrow dark alley-wayleading toward the stage entrance. Keith, having been there before, advanced confidently, but Hope, her heart beating wildly, clung to hisarm, scarcely venturing a word in reply to his whispered assurances. Fortunately they encountered no one, and Keith, feeling cautiously inthe dark, easily succeeded in locating the opening to the vestibule. Listening intently he became convinced that no one occupied the littleshed. He had intended to remain with the girl until the time came forher to emerge, but the remembrance of that figure dogging them all theway from the hotel now caused a change of plan. He held her hand closelyclasped in his. 

"Now, Hope, I am going to leave you, " he whispered, "and your own witwill have to carry you through. I know you will play your part allright, and it will be mine to wait for Christie, and give her someexplanation of why Hawley failed to meet her as he promised. It willnever do for her to suspect, until you time to learn all possible. Youare not afraid?"

"Yes, I am, " clinging to him, "but--but I am going through it just thesame. "

"The truest kind of courage, my girl. Now slip inside, but hold the doorajar. Hawley will certainly be here within ten minutes, and you mustjoin him at once, or else the other might appear. You can judge as toits being him even in this darkness. Good-bye. "

The longing to clasp her in his arms, to speak the language of hisheart, was almost overwhelming, yet the memory of that figure slinkingalong behind them, and the brief time before Hawley's probableappearance, for he would leave the theatre at the conclusion of MissMaclaire's act, restrained all demonstration. This was a moment foraction, not for words of love; no delay should hazard the success oftheir undertaking. He heard the slight creak of the door as the girlslipped within the concealment of the vestibule, and then he glided awaythrough the darkness with the stealthy silence of an Indian. There wasno one in the alley-way, which was narrow and easily explored, but theglow from the front windows plainly revealed the shadow of a man nearthe entrance, and Keith slipped up toward him, hugging the side of thebuilding for concealment, prepared to resort to harsh measures. As hereached out, gripping the astonished loiterer by the collar, the twostared at one another in surprise, and the gripping hand as instantlyreleased its hold. 

"You, Fairbain! What the devil does this mean? What are you spying on usfor?"

Clearly taken aback, yet not greatly disturbed, his eyes showingpugnacious and his jaw set, the Doctor rubbed his throat where Keith'sknuckles had left a red welt. 

"Damn you, I think I'm the one to ask for an explanation, " he growled. "She said she was not going with you, and now you are around heretogether at this hour. I had a right to know whether I was being playedwith like that. "

"But, man, that was not Miss Maclaire I was with; it was Hope Waite. Come back here under the tent flap while I explain. "

Fearful of the coming of Hawley he fairly dragged the portly figure ofthe bewildered Doctor with him, striving, by quickly spoken words, tomake him comprehend the situation. Knowing previously something of theissues involved, it was not difficult to make Fairbain grasp the meaningof this present movement, yet his sympathies were at once enlisted uponthe side of Miss Christie. He'd be damned if he would have any part insuch a scheme--if she had a right to the money he'd help her get it--itwas a cowardly trick, and he'd fight if necessary, to keep her frombecoming a victim. His voice rose, his arms brandishing violently, hissentences snapping like rifle shots. Keith angered, and fearful ofa discovery which would leave Hope exposed, realized the futility ofdiscussion and turned to physical force. Grasping the gesticulating manwith both hands, he flung him backward and dragged him into the emptytent, kneeling on him as he throttled him to the earth. 

"Now, Doctor, you listen to me, " he said sternly, "I'm through arguing. I hate to treat you like this, for you are my friend, but I'll not standfor interference here. Do you get that, you old fool? Lie still until Iget through! I respect your feelings toward Miss Maclaire. She is a goodgirl, and I hope to heaven you get her if you want her. But you neverwill if you permit this affair to go on. Yes, I know what I am talkingabout. In all that Hope and I do we are serving you and Christie, --ouronly fight is with 'Black Bart' Hawley. Stop being a bullet-headed oldfool, Fairbain, and understand this thing. Lie still, I tell you, andhear me out! Hawley is a liar, a thief, and a swindler. There is aswindle in this thing somewhere, and he hopes to pull out a big sum ofmoney from it. He is merely using Christie to pull his own chestnuts outof the fire. She is innocent; we realize that, but this fellow isgoing to ruin the girl unless we succeed in exposing him. He's not onlyinvolving her in his criminal conspiracy, but he's making love to her;he's teaching her to love him. That's part of his scheme, no doubt, forthen she will be so much easier handled. I tell you, Fairbain, your onlychance to ever win the interest of Christie Maclaire is to help us downthis fellow Hawley. Yes, you can sit up; I reckon you're beginning tosee clearer, ain't you?"

Keith drew aside the flap of the tent to glance without, the lightfalling on Fairbain's face as he struggled to a sitting posture. Hehad had a new thought driven into him, yet failed to entirely grasp itssignificance. 

"But, Jack, " he asked, still half angry, "how about the girl? Hasn't sheany right to this money?"

"I don't know, " honestly, "we don't any of us know, but whatever she hasthe right to she is going to get. You can bet on that, old man. We'rebucking Hawley not Christie Maclaire--get that into your head. Hehasn't any right, that's certain, for he murdered and stole to get thepapers--be quiet! Here the fellow comes now!"

They peered out together through the convenient tent flap, Fairbainscarcely less interested than the other, already dimly comprehendingthat his truly dangerous rival was the gambler, and that he could bestserve the lady by helping to prove to her the real character of thatindividual. He was still blindly groping in the haze, yet out of Keith'ssharp, stinging words there had come to him a guiding light. The lattergripped his arm in restraint. 

"Easy, old man, easy--let him pass. "

Hawley turned into the alley whistling, evidently well pleased with thesituation and anticipating other delights awaiting his coming. The glowof the Trocadero's lights served, an instant, to reveal his face, shadedby the broad brim of his hat, and then he vanished into the dark. Keithleaning far out, yet keeping well within the shadows, heard the faintcreak of the vestibule door and the soft murmur of distant voices. Then he drew back suddenly, his hand again grasping Fairbain. Twofigures--those of a man and woman--emerged into the dim light, and asquickly disappeared. Apparently her hand was upon his arm, and he wasbending down so as to gain a glimpse of the face partially concealedby the folds of the mantilla. Only a word or two reached them, a littlelaugh, and the woman's voice:

"Why, of course I hurried; you said you had something of such importanceto tell me. "

"Fairbain, " spoke Keith, his lips almost at the ear of the other. "Thatwas Hope, all right, and she has got him going already. Now, man, willyou help us out?"

"I? How?"

"Go back there, and meet Miss Maclaire. I don't care where you takeher--lunch, anywhere; only keep her from the hotel as long as possible. You can do it far better than I, for she will not suspect you of anyinterest in this affair. Tell her any lie you can think up on account ofHawley's absence. Good Lord, old man, can't you see this is your chance;go in and win. "

Fairbain struggled to his feet, still a bit dazed and uncertain, yettempted by the opportunity. 

"You're perfectly sure, Keith, this isn't anything that will hurt thegirl?"

"Sure! Of course I am. It's just Hawley I'm gunning after. For God'ssake, haven't you got that clear yet?"

"I--I reckon I'm an old fool, Jack, " admitted the Doctor regretfully, "and when an old fool is in love he hasn't got any sense left. AnyhowI'll do what you want me to now. Where are you going?"

"To watch those others. There is no knowing what play Hawley might tryto pull off, and I want to keep within gun-shot of him. Hurry up, man;that vestibule door creaked just then. "

He shoved him down the dark alley, and dodged back himself across thefront of the tent out into the street. There was a crowd of men in frontof the Trocadero, but the couple he sought were nowhere in sight. 

Chapter XXIX. By Force of Arms

With her heart throbbing fiercely, Hope clung to the outer door of thevestibule endeavoring to see a little of what was transpiring without. About her was dense darkness, and she dare not explore the surroundings. Behind could be heard, through what must have been a thin partition, thevarious distractions of the stage, shifting scenery, music, shufflingfeet, voices, and the occasional sound of applause. The girl had nervedherself to the encounter with Hawley but this waiting here in darknessand uncertainty tried her to the uttermost. If some one should ventureout that way how could she excuse her presence or explain her purpose?She found herself trembling in every limb from nervous fear, startled byevery strange sound. Would the man never come? Surely Christie herselfmust be ready to depart by this time. 

Almost prepared to flee before the terrors thus conjured up withinher mind, they left her as if by magic the moment her straining eyesdistinguished the approach of a dim figure without. She could not tellwho it was, only that it was the unmistakable form of a man, and that hewas whistling softly to himself. It might not prove to be the gambler, but she must accept the chance, for flesh and blood could stand thestrain of waiting no longer. Yet she was not conscious of fear, onlyof exultation, as she stepped forth into the open, her blood againcirculating freely in her veins. At the slight creak of the door the mansaw her, his whistle ceasing, his hat lifted. Instantly she recognizedhim as Hawley, her heart leaping with the excitement of encounter. 

"Why, hullo, Christie, " he said familiarly, "I thought I was early, andexpected a ten minutes' wait. I came out as soon as you left the stage. "

"Oh, I can dress in a jiffy when there is any cause for hurry, " Hoperesponded, permitting herself to drift under his guidance. "Are youdisappointed? Would you prefer to commune with nature?"

"Well, I should say not, " drawing her hand through his arm, and thenpatting it with his own. "I have seen about all I care to of nature, butnot of Christie Maclaire. "

"You may learn to feel the same regarding her, " Hope answered, afraidto encourage the man, yet eagerly fearful lest she fail to play her partaright. 

"Not the slightest danger, " laughing lightly, and pressing her arm moreclosely against his body. "Although I must confess you exhibited sometemper when I was late to-night. "

"Did I not have occasion to? A woman should never be kept waiting, especially if her engagement be imperative. "

"Oh, I am not finding any fault, you little spitfire. I like you allthe better because you fight. But the trouble was, Christie, you simplyjumped on me without even asking how it occurred. You took it forgranted I was late on purpose to spite you. "

"Well, weren't you?" and the girl glanced inquiringly up into hisface, as they passed out of the alley into the light of the Trocadero'swindows. "You certainly acted that way. "

"No, I did not; but you wouldn't listen, and besides I had no time thento explain. There's a lot happened this afternoon I want to tell youabout. Will you give me time to talk with you?"

"Why, of course, " surprised at the question, yet full of eagerness. "Whyshould you ask that?"

"Because I want you alone where no one can overhear a syllable. I'mafraid of that damned hotel. You never know who is in the next room, andthe slightest whisper travels from one end to the other. That is one wayin which Keith got onto our deal--he had a room next to Willoughbyand Scott, and overheard them talking. I'm not going to take any morechances. Will you go to 'Sheeny Joe's' with me?"

She drew back from him. 

"'Sheeny Joe's'? You mean the saloon near the depot?"

"Sure; what's the use of being so squeamish? You sing and dance to asaloon crowd, don't you? Oh, I know you're a good girl, Christie, andall that. I'm not ranking you with these fly-by-nights around here. But there's no reason that I can see why you should shy so at a saloon. Besides, you won't see any one. Joe has got some back rooms where we canbe alone, and have a bite to eat while we're talking. What do you say?"

"Oh, I would rather not, " Hope faltered, bewildered by this unexpectedrequest, already half-tempted to break away and run. "Really I--I don'twant to go there. "

Hawley was evidently surprised at this refusal, naturally supposing fromher life that Miss Maclaire's scruples would be easily overcome. Thisobstinacy of the girl aroused his anger. 

"You women beat the devil, " he ejaculated, gruffly, "pretending to be sodamn particular. Maybe you'd rather stand out there on the prairie andtalk?" with a sweep of his hand around the horizon. 

"Yes, I would, " catching desperately at the straw. "I'm not afraid ofyou; I'm not blaming you at all, only I--I don't want to go to 'SheenyJoe's. '"

He looked at her, puzzled at her attitude, and yet somewhat reassuredby her expression of confidence. Oh, well, what was the difference? Itmight be better to let her have her own way, and the change would notmaterially interfere with his plans. Of course, it would be pleasantersitting together at one of Joe's tables, but he could talk just asfreely out yonder under the stars. Besides, it might be as well now tohumor the girl. 

"All right, Christie, " his voice regaining its pleasant tone. "You shallhave your way this time. There is too much at stake for us to quarrelover this. "

Frightened, yet not daring to resist or exhibit the least reluctance, she clung to his arm, and permitted him to lead her to the right down adark passage and out into the open land beyond. He had to feel his waycarefully, and scarcely spoke, yet proceeded as though the passage wasreasonably familiar and he had some definite point in view. She answeredin monosyllables, now thoroughly regretful of having permitted herselfto drift into this position, yet not in the least knowing how toextricate herself. Hawley took everything for granted, her very silenceconvincing him of her acquiescence. With throbbing pulse, Hope felt thesmall revolver hidden within her dress, undoing a button so that, inemergency, she might grasp it more quickly. Hawley felt the movement, the trembling of her arm. 

"You are afraid, just the same, " he said, pressing her to himlover-like. "Darkness always gets on a woman's nerves. "

"Yes, that and loneliness, " resenting his familiarity. 

"Do we need to go any farther? Surely, we are alone here. "

"Only a few steps; the ravine is yonder, and we can sit down on therocks. I want to smoke, and we will be entirely out of sight there. "

He helped her down the rather sharp declivity until both were thoroughlyconcealed below the prairie level. Feeling about with his hands hefound the surface of a smooth rock, and seated her upon it. Then a matchflared, casting an instant's gleam across his face as he lighted hiscigar. Blacker than ever the night shut down about them, and he gropedfor a seat beside her. She could perceive just one star peering througha rift of cloud, and in her nostrils was the pungent odor of tobacco. With a little shiver of disgust she drew slightly away from him, dreading what was to come. One thing alone she felt was in herfavor--however familiar Hawley attempted to be, he was evidently notyet sufficiently sure of Miss Maclaire to become entirely offensive. Shemight not have frowned at his love-making, but apparently he had not yetprogressed sufficiently far in her good graces to venture to extremes. Hope pressed her lips together, determined to resist any furtherapproach of the man. However, his earliest words were a relief. 

"I reckon, Christie, " he said slowly, between puffs on his cigar, thelighted end of which faintly illumined his face, "you've got the ideaI have brought you out here to make love. Lord knows I'd like to wellenough, but just now there's more important matters on hand. Fact is, mygirl, we're up against a little back-set, and have got to make a shiftin our plans--a mighty quick shift, too, " he added, almost savagely. 

"I--I don't think I understand. "

"No, of course, you don't. You imagine all we've got to do in a matterof this kind is to step into the nearest court, and draw the money. Onetrouble is, our evidence isn't complete--we've got to find that womanwho brought you up. "

"Oh!" said Hope, not knowing what else to say. 

"Yes, " he went on, apparently satisfied with her exclamation. "Ofcourse, I know she's dead, or at least, you say so, but we haven't gotenough proof without her--not the way old Waite promises to fight yourclaim--and so we've got to hunt for a substitute. Do you happen to knowany old woman about the right age who would make affidavit for you? Sheprobably wouldn't have to go on the stand at all. Waite will cave in assoon as he knows we've got the evidence. "

He waited for an answer, but she hardly knew what to say. Then sheremembered that Keith insisted that Miss Maclaire had no conception thatthere was any fraud in her claim. 

"No, I know no one. But what do you mean? I thought everything wasstraight? That there was no question about my right to inherit?"

"Well, there isn't, Christie, " pulling fiercely on his cigar. "But thecourts are particular; they have got to have the whole thing in blackand white. I thought all along I could settle the entire matter withWaite outside, but the old fool won't listen to reason. I saw him twiceto-day. "

"Twice?" surprise wringing the word from her. 

"Yes; thought I had got him off on a false scent and out of the way, thefirst time, but he turned up again like a bad penny. What's worse, he'sevidently stumbled on to a bit of legal information which makes it saferfor us to disappear until we can get the links of our chain forged. He'staken the case into court already, and the sheriff is here tryin' tofind me so as to serve the papers. I've got to skip out, and so've you. "

"I?" rising to her feet, indignantly. "What have I done to be frightenedover?"

He laughed, but not pleasantly. 

"Oh, hell, Christie, can't you understand? Old Waite is after you thesame way he is me. It'll knock our whole case if he can get you intocourt before our evidence is ready. All you know is what I have toldyou--that's straight enough--but we've got to have proof. I can get itin a month, but he's got hold of something which gives him a leverage. I don't know what it is--maybe it's just a bluff--but the charge isconspiracy, and he's got warrants out. There is nothing for us to do butskip. "

"But my clothes; my engagement?" she urged, feeling the insistentearnestness of the man, and sparring for delay. "Why, I cannot go. Besides, if the sheriff is hunting us, the trains will be watched. "

"Do you suppose I am fool enough to risk the trains?" he exclaimed, roughly, plainly losing patience. "Not much; horses and the open plainsfor us, and a good night the start of them. They will search for mefirst, and you'll never be missed until you fail to show up at theTrocadero. Never mind the clothes; they can be sent after us. "

"To-night!" she cried, awakening to the immediate danger, and rising toher feet. "You urge me to fly with you to-night?--now?"

"Sure, don't be foolish and kick up a row. The horses are here waitingjust around the end of the ravine. "

She pressed her hands to her breast, shrinking away from him. 

"No! No! I will not go!" she declared, indignantly. "Keep back! Don'ttouch me!"

Hawley must have expected the resistance, for with a single movement hegrasped her even as she turned to fly, pinning her arms helplessly toher side, holding her as in a vice. 

"Oh, but you will, my beauty, " he growled. "I thought you might act upand I'm ready. Do you think I am fool enough to leave you here alone tobe pumped dry? It is a big stake I'm playing after, girl, and I amnot going to lose it through the whims of a woman. If you won't gopleasantly, then you'll go by force. Keep still, you tigress! Do youwant me to choke you?"

She struggled to break loose, twisting and turning, but the effortwas useless. Suddenly he whistled sharply. There was the sound of feetscrambling down the path, and the frightened woman perceived the dimoutlines of several approaching men. She gave one scream, and Hawleyreleased his grip on her arms to grasp her throat. 

She jerked away, half-stumbling backward over a rock. The revolver, carried concealed in her dress, was in her hand. Mad with terror, scarcely knowing what she did, she pulled the trigger. In the flash shesaw one man throw up his hands and go down. The next instant the otherswere upon her. 

Chapter XXX. In Christie's Room

Keith swept his glance up and down the street without results. Surely, Hawley and his companion could not have disappeared so suddenly. Theyhad turned to the right, he was certain as to that, and he pushedthrough the crowd of men around the theatre entrance, and hastened toovertake them. He found nothing to overtake--nowhere along that stretchof street, illumined by window lights, was there any sign of a man andwoman walking together. He stopped bewildered, staring blindly about, failing utterly to comprehend this mysterious vanishing. What could itmean? What had happened? How could they have disappeared so completelyduring that single moment he had waited to speak to Fairbain? The man'sheart beat like a trip-hammer with apprehension, a sudden fear for Hopetaking possession of him. Surely the girl would never consent to enterany of those dens along the way, and Hawley would not dare resort toforce in the open street. The very thought seemed preposterous, and yet, with no other supposition possible, he entered these one after the otherin hasty search, questioning the inmates sharply, only to find himselftotally baffled--Hawley and Hope had vanished as though swallowed by theearth. He explored dark passage-ways between the scattered buildings, rummaging about recklessly, but came back to the street again withoutreward. 

Could they have gone down the other side, in the deeper shadows, andthus reached the hotel more quickly than it seemed to him possible?There was hardly a chance that this could be true, and yet Keith graspedat it desperately, cursing himself for having wasted time. Five minuteslater, breathless, almost speechless with anxiety, he startled theclerk. 

"Has Miss Waite come in? Miss Hope Waite?"

"Blamed if I know, " retorted the other, indifferently. "Can't for thelife of me tell those two females apart. One of them passed through'bout ten minutes ago; Doc Fairbain was with her. Another party justwent upstairs hunting Miss Maclaire, and as they haven't come down, Ireckon it must have been her--anything wrong?"

"I'm not sure yet, " shortly. "Who was this other person?"

"Old fellow with white hair and whiskers--swore like a pirate--had thesheriff along with him. "

It came to Keith in a flash--it was Waite. Perhaps Christie knew. Perhaps the General knew. Certainly something of importance wascrystallizing in the actress' room which might help to explain all else. He rushed up the stairs, barely waiting to rap once at the closed doorbefore he pressed it open. The sight within held him silent, waitingopportunity to blurt out his news. Here, also, was tragedy, intense, compelling, which for the instant seemed to even overshadow the fateof the girl he loved. There were three men present, and the woman. Shestood clutching the back of a chair, white-faced and open-eyed, withFairbain slightly behind her, one hand grasping her arm, the otherclinched, his jaw set pugnaciously. Facing these two was Waite, and aheavily built man wearing a brown beard, closely trimmed. 

"You'd better acknowledge it, " Waite snapped out, with a quick glance atthe newcomer. "It will make it all the easier for you. I tell you thisis the sheriff, and we've got you both dead to rights. "

"But, " she urged, "why should I be arrested? I have done nothing. "

"You're an adventuress--a damn adventuress--Hawley's mistress, probably--a--"

"Now, see here, Waite, " and Fairbain swung himself forward, "you dropthat. Miss Maclaire is my friend, and if you say another word I'll smashyou, sheriff or no sheriff. "

Waite glared at him. 

"You old fool, " he snorted, "what have you got to do with this?"

"I've got this to do with it, you'll find--the woman is to be treatedwith respect or I'll blow your damned obstinate head off. "

The sheriff laid his hand on Waite's shoulder. 

"Come, " he said, firmly, "this is no way to get at it. We want to knowcertain facts, and then we can proceed lawfully. Let me question thewoman. "

The two older men still faced one another belligerently, but Keith sawChristie draw the doctor back from between her and the sheriff. 

"You may ask me anything you please, " she announced, quietly. "I am surethese gentlemen will not fight here in my room. "

"Very well, Miss Maclaire. It will require only a moment. How long haveyou known this man Hawley?"

"Merely a few days--since I arrived in Sheridan. "

"But you were in communication with him before that?"

The pleasant voice and quiet demeanor of the sheriff seemed to yield thegirl confidence and courage. 

"Yes, he had written me two or three letters. "

"You met him here then by appointment?"

"He was to come to Sheridan, and explain to me more fully what hisletters had only hinted at. "

"You possessed no previous knowledge of his purpose?"

"Only the barest outline--details were given me later. "

"Will you tell us briefly exactly what Hawley told you?"

The girl's bewildered eyes wandered from face to face, then returned tothe waiting sheriff. 

"May--may I sit down?" she asked. 

"Most certainly; and don't be afraid, for really we wish to be yourfriends. "

She sank down into the chair, and even Keith could see how her slenderform trembled. There was a moment's silence. 

"Believe me, gentlemen, " she began, falteringly, "if there is any fraud, any conspiracy, I have borne no conscious part in it. Mr. Hawley cameto me saying a dying man had left with him certain papers, naming one, Phyllis Gale, as heiress to a very large estate in North Carolina, leftby her grandfather in trust. He said the girl had been taken West, whenscarcely two years old, by her father in a fit of drunken rage, and thendeserted by him in St. Louis. "

"You--you saw the papers?" Waite broke in. 

"Yes, those that Hawley had; he gave them to me to keep for him. " Shecrossed to her trunk, and came back, a manilla envelope in her hand. Waite opened it hastily, running his eyes over the contents. 

"The infernal scoundrel!" he exclaimed, hotly. "These were stolen fromme at Carson City. "

"Let me see them. " The sheriff ran them over, merely glancing at theendorsements. 

"Just as you represented, Waite, " he said, slowly. "A copy of the will, your commission as guardian, and memoranda of identification. Well, MissMaclaire, how did you happen to be so easily convinced that you were thelost girl?"

"Mr. Hawley brought me a picture which he said was of this girl'shalf-sister; the resemblance was most startling. This, with the factthat I have never known either father or mother or my real name, andthat my earlier life was passed in St. Louis, sufficed to make mebelieve he must be right. "

"You--you--" Waite choked, leaning forward. 

"You don't know your real name?"

"No, I do not, " her lips barely forming the words. "The woman whobrought me up never told me. "

"Who--who was the woman?"

"A Mrs. Raymond--Sue Raymond--she was on the stage, and died inTexas--San Antonio, I think. "

Waite swore audibly, his eyes never once deserting the girl's face. 

"Hawley told you to say that?"

"No, he did not, " she protested warmly. "It was never even mentionedbetween us--at least, not Sue Raymond's name. What difference can thatmake?"

He stepped forward, one hand flung out, and Fairbain sprang forwardinstantly between them, mistaking the action. 

"Hands off there, Waite, " he commanded sternly. "Whatever she saysgoes. "

"You blundering old idiot, " the other exploded. "I'm not going to hurther; stand aside, will you!"

He reached the startled girl, thrust aside the dark hair combed low overthe neck, swung her about toward the light, and stared at a birthmarkbehind her ear. No one spoke, old Waite seemingly stricken dumb, thewoman shrinking away from him as though she feared he was crazed. 

"What is it?" asked the sheriff, sternly. 

Slowly Waite turned about and faced him, running the sleeve of his coatacross his eyes. He appeared dazed, confounded. 

"My God, it's all right, " he said, with a choke in the throat. "She's--she's the girl. "

Christie stared at him, her lips parted, unable to grasp what it allmeant. 

"You mean I--I am actually Phyllis Gale? That--that there is nomistake?"

He nodded, not yet able to put It more clearly into words. She swayed asthough about to faint, and Fairbain caught her, but she slipped throughhis arms, and fell upon her knees, her face buried in her hands upon thechair. 

"Oh, thank God, " she sobbed, "thank God! I know who I am! I know who Iam!"

Chapter XXXI. The Search for the Missing

The note of unrestrained joy of relief in the woman's voice rang throughthe room, stilling all else, and causing those who heard to forget foran instant the sterner purpose of their gathering. Fairbain bent overher, like a fat guardian angel, patting her shoulder, her eyes soblurred with tears as to be practically sightless, yet still turnedquestioningly upon Waite. The sheriff was first to recover speech, and asense of duty. 

"Then this lets Miss Maclaire out of the conspiracy charge, " he said, gravely, "but it doesn't make it any brighter for Hawley so far as I cansee--there's a robbery charge against him if nothing else. Any one hereknow where the fellow is?"

For a moment no one answered, although Keith took a step forward, reminded instantly of Hope's predicament. Before he could speak, however, Christie looked up, with swift gesture pushing back herloosened hair. 

"He was to have met me at the theatre to-night, " she said, her voicetrembling, "but was not there when I came out; he--he said he hadimportant news for me. "

"And failed to show up--did he send no message?"

"Doctor Fairbain was waiting for me instead. He said that Mr. Hawley wascalled suddenly out of town. "

The eyes of the sheriff turned to Fairbain, whose face grew redder thanusual, as he shifted his gaze toward Keith. 

"That was a lie, " he confessed, lamely. "I--I was told to say that. "

"Just a moment, Sheriff, " and Keith stood before them, his voice clearand convincing. "My name is Keith, and I have unavoidably been mixed upin this affair from the beginning. Just now I can relieve the doctor ofhis embarrassment. Miss Hope Waite and I have been associated togetherin an effort to solve this mystery. This evening, taking advantage ofthe remarkable resemblance existing between herself and Miss Maclaire, Miss Hope decided upon a mask--"

"What's that, " Waite broke in excitedly. "Is Hope here?"

"Yes, has been for a week; we've had all the police force of Sheridanhunting you. "

The old man stared at the speaker, open-mouthed, and muttered somethingabout Fort Hays, but Keith, paying little attention to him, hurried onwith his story. 

"As I say, she decided upon impersonating Christie here, hoping in thisway to learn more regarding Hawley's plans. We had discovered that thetwo were to meet after the evening performance at the stage door of theTrocadero. I escorted Hope there, dressed as near like Miss Maclaire aspossible, and left her inside the vestibule waiting for 'Black Bart' toappear. At the head of the alley I ran into Fairbain, told him somethingof the circumstances, and persuaded him to escort Miss Christie back tothe hotel. He was not very hard to persuade. Well, Hawley came, and Hopemet him; they went out of the alley-way together arm in arm, talkingpleasantly, and turned this way toward the hotel. The doctor and I bothsaw and heard them. I was delayed not to exceed two minutes, speakinga final word to Fairbain, and when I reached the street they haddisappeared. I have hunted them everywhere without finding a trace--Ihave even been through the resorts. She has not returned to the hotel, and I burst in upon you here hoping that Miss Maclaire might have someinformation. "

She shook her head, and Waite, glaring impotently at the two of them, swore sharply. 

"Good God, man! my girl! Hope, alone with that damn villain. Come on, Sheriff; we've got to find her. Wait though!" and he strode almostmenacingly across the room. "First, I want to know who the devil youare?"

Keith straightened up, looking directly into the fierce questioningeyes. 

"I have told you my name--Jack Keith, " he replied, quietly. "DoctorFairbain knows something of me, but for your further information I willadd that when we met before I was Captain Keith, Third Virginia Cavalry, and bearing despatches from Longstreet to Stonewall Jackson. "

The gruff old soldier, half-crazed by the news of his daughter's peril, the gleam of his eyes still revealing uncontrolled temper, stared at theyounger face fronting him; then slowly he held out his hand. 

"Keith--Keith, " he repeated, as though bringing back the name withan effort. "By God, that's so--old Jefferson Keith's boy--killed atAntietam. And you know Hope?"

"Yes, General. "

He looked about as though dazed, and the sheriff broke in not unkindly. 

"Well, Waite, if we are going to search for your daughter we betterbe at it. Come on, all of you; Miss Maclaire will be safe enough herealone. "

He took hold of Keith's arm, questioning him briefly as they passed downthe hall. On the stairs the latter took his turn, still confused by whathe had just heard. 

"Who is Miss Maclaire?" he asked. 

"Phyllis Gale. "

"Of course, but who is Phyllis Gale? What has she to do with GeneralWaite? His daughter has told me she never heard of any one by thatname. "

"Well, Keith, the old man has never told me very much; he's prettyclose-mouthed, except for swearing, but I've read his papers, and pickedup a point or two. I reckon the daughter, Miss Hope, maybe never hearda word about it, but the boy--the one that was shot--must have stumbledonto the story and repeated it to Hawley. That's what set that fellowgoing. It seems Mrs. Waite's maiden name was Pierpont, and when she wasseventeen years old she was married to the son of a rich North Carolinaplanter. The fellow was a drunken, dissolute good-for-nothing. They hada daughter born--this Phyllis--and when the child was three years oldher father, in a fit of drunken rage, ran away, and to spite his wifetook the little girl with him. All efforts to trace them failed, and themother finally secured a divorce and, two years later, married WillisWaite. Waite, of course, knew these facts, but probably they were nevertold to the children. When the father of Mrs. Waite's first husbanddied, he left all his large property to his grandchild, providing shecould be found and identified within a certain time, failing which theproperty was to be distributed among certain designated charities. Waitewas named sole administrator. Well, the old man took as much interestin it as though it was his own girl, but made mighty little progress. Hedid discover that the father had taken the child to St. Louis and lefther there with a woman named Raymond, but after the woman died the girlcompletely disappeared. "

"Then Miss Maclaire is Hope Waite's half-sister?"

"That's the way it looks now. "

"And Hawley merely happened to stumble on to the right party?"

"Sure; it's clear enough how that came about. The boy told him about thelost heiress his father was searching after, and showed him his sister'spicture. 'Black Bart' instantly recognized her resemblance to ChristieMaclaire, and thought he saw a good chance for some easy money. Heneeded the papers, however, to ascertain exactly the terms of the will, and what would be necessary for the identification. He never intendedto go into court, but hoped to either get Waite out of the way, or elseconvince him that Christie was the girl, relying on her gratitude forhis profits. When Waite played into his hands by coming to Carson City, the chance was too good to be lost. I'm not sure he meant to kill him, but he did mean to have those papers at any cost. Probably you know therest--the girl was easy, because she was so ignorant of her parentage, and nothing prevented Hawley from winning except that Waite got mad anddecided to fight. That knocked over the whole thing. "

They were outside now, and the first touch of the cool night air, thefirst glance up and down the noisy street, brought Keith to himself, his mind ready to grapple with the problem of Hope's disappearance. Itseemed to him he had already looked everywhere, yet there was nothing todo except to continue the search, only more systematically. Thesheriff assumed control--clear headed, and accustomed to that sort ofthing--calling in Hickock and his deputies to assist, and fairlycombing the town from one end to the other. Not a rat could have slippedunobserved through the net he dragged down that long street, or itsintersecting alleys--but it was without result; nowhere was there founda trace of either the gambler or his companion. 

They dug into saloons, bagnios, dance-halls, searching back roomsand questioning inmates; they routed out every occupant of the hotel, invaded boarding houses, and explored shacks and tents, indifferent tothe protests of those disturbed, --but without result. They found severalwho knew Hawley, others who had seen the two together passing by thelighted windows of the Trocadero, but beyond that--nothing. Convinced, at last, that the parties sought were not alive in Sheridan, andbeginning to fear the worst, the searchers separated, and beganspreading forth over the black surrounding prairie, and by the light oflanterns seeking any semblance of trail. There was no lack of volunteersfor this work, but it was daylight before the slightest clue presenteditself. Keith, with the sheriff and two or three others, had gropedtheir way outward until, with the first flush of dawn, they foundthemselves at the opening of a small rocky ravine, near the footof "Boots Hill. " Peering down into its still shadowed depths, theydiscerned what appeared like a body lying there motionless. Keith sprangdown beside it, and turned the rigid form over until the dead face wasrevealed in the wan light--it was that of the red moustached Scott. Hestaggered back at the recognition, barely able to ejaculate. 

"Here, Sheriff! This is one of Hawley's men!"

The sheriff was bending instantly above the corpse, searching for thetruth. 

"You know the fellow?"

"Yes, his name was Scott. "

"Well, he's been dead some hours, at least six I should say; shot justabove the eye, and good Heavens! look here, Keith, at the size of thisbullet wound; that's no man's gun in this country--no more than a '32'I'd say. "

"Miss Waite had a small revolver. She must have shot the fellow. But whydid they leave the body here to be discovered?"

The sheriff arose to his feet, prowling about in the brightening glow ofthe dawn. 

"They were in a hurry to get away, and knew he wouldn't be found beforemorning. A six hours' start means a good deal. They did drag him backout of sight--look here. This was where the struggle took place, andhere is where the man fell, " tracing it out upon the ground. "The girlput up a stiff fight, too--see where they dragged her up the path. Fromthe footprints there must have been half a dozen in the party. Get backout of the way, Sims, while I follow their trail. "

It was plain enough, now they had daylight to assist them, and ledaround the edge of the hill. A hundred feet away they came to wherehorses had been standing, the trampled sod evidencing they must havebeen there for some considerable time. Keith and the sheriff circledout until they finally struck the trail of the party, which led forthsouthwest across the prairie. 

"Seven horses, one being led light, " said the former. "That was Scott's, probably. "

"That's the whole story, " replied the sheriff, staring off toward thebare horizon, "and the cusses have at least six hours the start withfresh horses. " He turned around. "Well, boys, that takes 'em out of mybaliwick, I reckon. Some of the rest of you will have to run that gangdown. "

Chapter XXXII. Fairbain and Christie

Dr. Fairbain had originally joined the searching party, fully as eageras Keith himself to run down the renegade Hawley, but after an hour ofresultless effort, his entire thought shifted to the woman they had leftalone at the hotel. He could not, as yet, fully grasp the situation, buthe remained loyal to the one overpowering truth that he loved ChristieMaclaire. Fairbain's nature was rough, original, yet loyal to the core. He had lived all his life long in army camps, and upon the frontier, andhis code of honor was extremely simple. It never once occurred to himthat Christie's profession was not of the highest, or that her life andassociations in any way unfitted her for the future. To his mind she wasthe one and only woman. His last memory of her, as the little party ofmen filed out of that room, haunted him until he finally dropped out ofthe search, and drifted back toward the hotel. 

It was a late hour, yet it was hardly likely the woman had retired. Her excitement, her interest in the pursuit, would surely prevent that;moreover, he was certain he saw a light still burning in her room, ashe looked up from the black street below. Nevertheless he hesitated, uncertain of his reception. Bluff, emphatic, never afraid to face a manin his life, his heart now beat fiercely as he endeavored to muster thenecessary courage. Far down the dark street some roysterer fired a shot, and sudden fear lest he might be sought after professionally sent thedoctor hurriedly within, and up the stairs. He stood, just outside herdoor, quaking like a child, the perspiration beading his forehead, but alight streamed through the transom, and he could plainly hear movementswithin. At last, in a sudden spasm of courage, he knocked softly. Even in that noisy spot she heard instantly, opening the door withouthesitation, and standing fully dressed within. She was no longer adiscouraged, sobbing girl, but an aroused, intent woman, into whosepathetic, lonely life there had come a new hope. She appeared younger, fairer, with the light shimmering in her hair and her eyes smilingwelcome. 

"Oh, Doctor, " and her hands were thrust out towards him, "I am glad youhave come. Somehow, I thought you would, and I have wanted so to talk tosomeone--to you. "

"To me! Do you really mean that, Miss Christie?"

"Yes, I really mean that, you great bear of a man, " and the girl laughedlightly, dragging him into the room, and closing the door. "Why, whoelse could I expect to come to-night? You were the only one really goodto me. You--you acted as if you believed in me all the time--"

"I did, Christie; you bet I did, " broke in the delighted doctor, everynerve tingling. "I'd 'a' cleaned out that whole gang if you'd only saidso, but I reckon now it was better to let them tell all they knew. Itwas like a thunder storm clearing the atmosphere. "

"Oh, it was, indeed! Now I know who I am--who I am! Isn't that simplyglorious? Sit down, Doctor Fairbain, there in the big chair where I cansee your face. I want to talk, talk, talk; I want to ask questions, a thousand questions; but it wouldn't do any good to ask them of you, would it? You don't know anything about my family, do you?"

"Not very much, I am afraid, only that you have got an almighty prettyhalf-sister, " admitted the man, emphatically, "and old Waite possessesthe vilest temper ever given a human being. He's no blood kin to you, though. "

"No, but he is awfully good underneath, isn't he?"

"Got a heart of pure gold, old Waite. Why, I've seen him cry like a babyover one of his men that got hurt. "

"Have you known him, then, for a long while?"

"Ever since the Spring of '61. I was brigaded with him all through thewar, and had to cut a bullet or so out of his hide before it ended. Ifthere was ever a fight, Willis Waite was sure to get his share. He couldswear some then, but he's improved since, and I reckon now he couldlikely claim the championship. "

"Did--did you know my mother also?" and Christie leaned forward, hereyes suddenly grown misty. "I haven't even the slightest memory of her. "

The doctor's heart was tender, and he was swift to respond, reachingforth and grasping the hand nearest him. He had made love before, yetsomehow this was different; he felt half afraid of this woman, and itwas a new sensation altogether, and not unpleasant. 

"I saw her often enough in those days, but not since. She was frequentlyin camp, a very sweet-faced woman; you have her eyes and hair, as Iremember. Waite ought to have recognized you at first sight. By Heavens!that was what made me so internally mad, the mulish obstinacy of theold fool. Your mother used to come to the hospital tent, too; one of thebest nurses I ever saw. I thought she was a beauty then, but she's someolder by this time, " he paused regretfully. "You see, I'm no springchicken, myself. "

Her eyes were upon his face, a slight flush showing in either cheek, andshe made no effort to withdraw her imprisoned hand. 

"You are just a nice age, " with firm conviction. "Boys are tiresome, and I think a little gray in the hair is an improvement. Oh, youmustn't imagine I say this just to please you--I have always thought so, since--well, since I grew up. Besides, fleshy men generally look young, because they are so good natured, perhaps. How old are you, Doctor?"

"It isn't the gray hairs I mind, either, " he admitted hesitatingly, "but I'm too darned bald-headed. Oh, I ain't so old, for I was onlythirty-five when the war broke out. I was so thin then I could hardlycast a shadow. I've changed some since, " casting his eyes admiringlydownward, "and got quite a figure. I was forty-three last month. "

"That isn't old; that's just right. "

"I've been afraid you looked on me as being an old fogy!"

"I should say not, " indignantly. "Why should you ever think that?"

"Well, there were so many young fellows hanging about. "

"Who?"

"Oh, Keith, and Hawley, and that bunch of officers from the fort; younever had any time to give me. "

She laughed again, her fingers tightening in their clasp on his hand. 

"Why, how foolish; Hawley is older than you are, and I was only playingwith Keith. Surely you must know that now. And as to the officers, theywere just fun. You see, in my profession, one has to be awfully nice toeverybody. "

"But didn't you really care for Hawley?" he insisted, bluntly probingfor facts. 

"He--he interested me, " admitted the girl, hesitatingly, her eyesdarkening with sudden anger. "He lied and I believed him--I would havebelieved any one who came with such a story. Oh, Dr. Fairbain, " and sheclung to him now eagerly, "you cannot realize how hungry I have beenfor what he brought me. I wanted so to know the truth of my birth. Oh, I hated this life!" She flung her disengaged hand into the air, with agesture expressive of disgust. "I was crazy to get away from it. Thatwas what made the man look good to me--he--he promised so much. Youwill believe me, won't you? Oh, you must; I am going to make you. I am asinger in music halls; I was brought up to that life from a littlegirl, and of course, I know what you Western men think of us as a class. Hawley showed it in his whole manner toward me, and I resented it; justfor that, deep down in my heart, I hated him. I know it now, now thatI really understand his purpose; but some way, when I was with him heseemed to fascinate me, to make me do just as he willed. But youhave never been that way; you--you have acted as though I wassomebody--somebody nice, and not just a music-hall singer. Perhaps it'sjust your way, and maybe, deep down you don't think I'm any better thanthe others do, but--but I want you to think I am, and I am going to tellyou the truth, and you must believe me--I am a good girl. "

"Great God! of course you are, " he blurted out. "Don't you suppose Iknow? That isn't what has been bothering me, lassie. Why, I'd 'a' foughtany buck who'd 'a' sneered at you. What I wanted to know was, whetheror not you really cared for any of those duffers. Can you tell me that, Christie?"

She lifted her eyes to his face, her lips parted. 

"I can answer any thing you ask. "

"And you do not care for them?"

"No. "

He drew his breath sharply, his round face rosy. 

"Then you have got to listen to me, for I'm deadly in earnest. I'm anold, rough, bald-headed fool that don't know much about women, --I neverthought before I'd ever want to, --but you can bet on one thing, I'msquare. Anybody in this town will tell you I'm square. They'll tell youthat whatever I say goes. I've never run around much with women; somehowI never exactly liked the kind I've come up against, and maybe theydidn't feel any particular interest in me. I didn't cut much shine as aladies' man, but, I reckon now, it's only because the right one hadn'thappened along. She is here now, though, all right, and I knew it thevery first time I set eyes on her. Oh, you roped and tied me all rightthe first throw. Maybe I did get you and that half-sister mixed up abit, but just the same you were the one I really wanted. Hope's allright; she's a mighty fine girl, but you are the one for me, Christie. Could you--could you care for such a duffer as I am?"

Her lips were smiling and so were her eyes, but it was a pleading smile. 

"I--I don't think it would be so very hard, " she admitted, "not if youreally wanted me to. "

"You know what I mean--that I love you, --wish you to be my wife?"

"I supposed that was it--that--that you wanted me. "

"Yes, and--and you will love me?"

Her head drooped slowly, so slowly he did not realize the significanceof the action, until her lips touched his hand. 

"I do, " she said; "you are the best man in the world. "

Fairbain could not move, could not seem to realize what it all meant. The outcome had been so sudden, so surprising, that all power ofexpression deserted him. In bewilderment he lifted her face, and lookedinto her eyes. Perhaps she realized--with the swift intuition of aclever woman--the man's perplexity, for instantly she led his mind toother things. 

"But let us not talk of ourselves any more, to-night. There is so muchI wish to know; so much that ought to be done. " She sprang to her feet. "Why, it is almost shameful for us to stay here, selfishly happy, whileothers are in such trouble. Have they discovered Hope?"

"No; we scoured the whole town and found no trace. Now they are outsideon the prairie, but there can be little chance of their picking up atrail before daylight. "

"And Hawley?"

"He has vanished also; without doubt they are together. What do yousuppose he can want of her? How do you imagine he ever got her to gowith him? She isn't that sort of a girl. "

She shook her head, shivering a little. 

"He must have mistaken her for me--perhaps has not even yet discoveredhis mistake. But what it all means, or how he gained her consent to gowith him, I cannot conceive. "

She stood with hands clasped, staring out the window. 

"There is a little light showing already, " she exclaimed, pointing. "See, yonder. Oh, I trust they will find her alive, and unhurt. Thatman, I believe, is capable of any crime. But couldn't you be of somehelp? Why should you remain here with me? I am in no danger. "

"You really wish me to go, Christie?"

"Not that way--not that way, " and she turned impulsively, with handsoutstretched. "Of course I want you here with me, but I want you to helpbring Hope back. "

He drew her to him, supremely happy now, every feeling of embarrassmentlost in complete certainty of possession. 

"And I will, " he said solemnly. "Wherever they may have gone I shallfollow. I am going now, dear, and when I come back you'll be glad to seeme?"

"Shall I?" her eyes uplifted to his own, and swimming in tears. "I willbe the happiest girl in all the world, I reckon. Oh, what a night thishas been! What a wonderful night! It has given me a name, a mother, andthe man I love. "

He kissed her, not in passion, but in simple tenderness, and as heturned away she sank upon her knees at the window, with head bowed uponthe sill. At the door he paused, and looked back, and she turned, andsmiled at him. Then he went out, and she knelt there silently, gazingforth into the dawn, her eyes blurred with tears--facing a new day, anda new life. 

Chapter XXXIII. Following the Trail

The withdrawal of the sheriff merely stimulated Keith to greateractivity. It was clearly evident the fugitives were endeavoring withall rapidity possible to get beyond where the hand of law could reachthem--their trail striking directly across the plains into the barrensouthwest was proof of this purpose. Yet it was scarcely likely theywould proceed very far in that direction, as such a course would bringthem straight into the heart of the Indian country, into greater dangerthan that from which they fled. Keith felt no doubt that Hawley intendedmaking for Carson City, where he could securely hide the girl, and wherehe possessed friends to rally to his defence, even an influence over theofficers of the law. The one thing which puzzled him most was the man'sobject in attempting so desperate a venture. Did he know his prisonerwas Hope Waite? or did he still suppose he was running off with ChristieMaclaire? Could some rumor of Waite's appeal to the courts have reachedthe gambler, frightened him, and caused him to attempt this desperateeffort at escape? and did he bear Miss Maclaire with him, hoping thusto keep her safely concealed until he was better prepared to come outin open fight? If this was the actual state of affairs then it wouldaccount for much otherwise hard to explain. The actress would probablynot have been missed, or, at least, seriously sought after, until shefailed to appear at the theatre the following evening. This delaywould give the fugitives a start of twenty hours, or even more, andpractically assure their safety. Besides, in the light of Waite'sapplication to the sheriff for assistance, it was comparatively easyto conceive of a valid reason why Hawley should vanish, and desire, likewise, to take Miss Maclaire with him. But there was no apparentoccasion for his forcible abduction of Hope. Of course, he might havedone so from a suddenly aroused fit of anger at some discovery thegirl had made, yet everything pointed rather to a deliberate plan. Both horses and men were certainly waiting there under orders, Hawley'sadherents in charge, and every arrangement perfected in advance. Clearlyenough, the gambler had planned it all out before he ever went to theTrocadero--no doubt the completion of these final arrangements was whatdelayed his appearance at the hotel. If this was all true, then it musthave been Christie, and not Hope, he purposed bearing away with him, andthe latter was merely a victim of her masquerade. 

What would result when the man discovered his mistake? Such a discoverycould not be delayed long, although the girl was quick-witted, and wouldsurely realize that her personal safety depended upon keeping up thedeception to the last possible moment. Yet the discovery must finallyoccur, and there was no guessing what form Hawley's rage wouldassume when he found himself baffled, and all his plans for a fortuneoverturned. Keith fully realized Hope's peril, and his own helplessnessto serve her in this emergency was agony. As they hurried back to thetown, he briefly reviewed these conclusions with Waite and Fairbain, allalike agreeing there was nothing remaining for them to do except to takeup the trail. The fugitives had already gained too great an advantageto be overhauled, but they might be traced to whatever point they wereheading for. In spite of the start being so far to the west, Keith wasfirmly convinced that their destination would prove to be Carson City. 

Procuring horses at the corral, their forces augmented by twovolunteers--both men of experience--Keith, Waite, Fairbain, and Nebdeparted without delay, not even pausing to eat but taking the necessaryfood with them. The sun had barely risen when they took up the trail, Keith, and a man named Bristoe, slightly in advance, their keen eyesmarking every slight sign left for guidance across the bare plain. Itwas a comparatively easy trail to follow, leading directly into thesouthwest, the pony tracks cutting into the sod as though the recklessriders had bunched together, their horses trotting rapidly. Evidentlyno attempt had been made at concealment, and this served to convince thepursuers that Hawley still believed his captive to be Miss Maclaire, andthat her disappearance would not be suspected until after nightfall. In that case the trail could not be discovered before the followingmorning, and with such a start, pursuit would be useless. Tireless, steadily, scarcely speaking except upon the business in hand, thepursuers pressed forward at an easy trot, Keith, in spite of intenseanxiety, with the remembrance of old cavalry days to guide him, insisting upon sparing the horses as much as possible. This was to bea stern chase and a long one, and it was impossible to tell when theycould procure remounts. The constant swerving of the trail westwardseemed to shatter his earlier theory, and, brought him greateruneasiness. Finally he spoke of it to the old plainsman beside him. 

"What do you suppose those fellows are heading so far west for, Ben?They are taking a big risk of running into hostiles. "

"Oh, I don't know, " returned the other gravely, lifting his eyes to thefar-off sky line. "I reckon from the news thet come in last night fromHays, thar ain't no Injuns a rangin' thet way jist now. They're tooblame busy out on the Arickaree. Maybe them fellers heerd the samestory, an' thet's what makes 'em so bold. "

"What story? I've heard nothing. "

"Why, it's like this, Cap, " drawling out the words, "leastways, thet'show it come inter Sheridan; 'Sandy' Forsythe an' his outfit, mostlyplainsmen, started a while ago across Solomon River an' down BeaverCrick, headin' fer Fort Wallace. Over on the Arickaree, the whole damnedInjun outfit jumped 'em. From all I heerd, thar must a bin nighonto three thousan' o' the varmints, droppin' on 'em all at oncet, hell-bent-fer-election, with ol' Roman Nose a leadin' 'em. It was shorea good fight, fer the scouts got onto an island an' stopped the bucks. Two of the fellers got through to Wallace yist'day, an' a courierbrought the news in ter Hays. The Injuns had them boys cooped up tharfer eight days before them fellers got out, an' I reckon it'll be two orthree days more 'fore the nigger sogers they sent out ter help ever gitthar. So thar won't be no Injuns 'long this route we're travellin', ferthe whole kit an' caboodle are up thar yit after 'Sandy. '"

"And you suppose Hawley knew about this?"

"Why not, Cap? He was hangin' 'round till after ten o'clock las' night, an' it was all over town by then. 'Tain't likely he's got an outfit'long with him thet's lost any Injuns. I don't know whar they're bound, no mor'n you do, but I reckon they're reasonably sure they've got a clarroad. "

They pulled up on the banks of a small stream to water their horses, andate hastily. The trail led directly across, and with only the slightestpossible delay they forded the shallow water, and mounted the oppositebank. A hundred yards farther on, Bristoe reined up suddenly, pointingdown at the trail. 

"One hoss left the bunch here, " he declared positively. Keith swunghimself out of the saddle, and bent over to study the tracks. Therewas no doubting the evidence--a single horse--the only one shod in thebunch--with a rider on its back, judging from the deep imprint ofthe hoofs, had swerved sharply to the left of the main body, headingdirectly into the southeast. The plainsman ran forward for a hundredyards to assure himself the man had not circled back; at that point theanimal had been spurred into a lope. Keith rejoined the others. 

"Must have been about daylight they reached here, " he said, pickingup--his dangling rein, and looking into the questioning faces abouthim. "The fellow that rode out yonder alone was heading straight towardCarson City. He is going for fresh horses, I figure it, and will rejointhe bunch some place down on the Arkansas. The others intend to keepfarther west, where they won't be seen. What do you say, Ben?"

"Thet's the way it looms up ter me, Cap; most likely 'twas the bosshimself. "

"Well, whoever it was, the girl is still with the others, and theirtrail is the easiest to follow. We'll keep after them. "

They pushed on hour after hour, as long as day-light lasted or theycould perceive the faintest trace to follow. Already half-convinced thathe knew the ultimate destination of the fugitives, Keith yet dare notventure on pressing forward during the night, thus possibly losingthe trail and being compelled to retrace their steps. It was better toproceed slow and sure. Besides, judging from the condition of their ownhorses, the pursued would be compelled to halt somewhere to rest theirstock also. Their trail even revealed the fact that they were alreadytravelling far less rapidly than at first, although evidently makingevery effort to cover the greatest possible distance before stopping. Just as the dusk shut in close about them they rode down into the valleyof Shawnee Fork, and discovered signs of a recent camp at the edge ofthe stream. Here, apparently, judging from the camp-fire ashes, and thetrampled grass along the Fork, the party must have halted for severalhours. By lighting matches Keith and Bristoe discerned where some amongthem had laid down to sleep, and, through various signs, decided theymust have again departed some five or six hours previous, one of theirhorses limping as if lame. The tired pursuers went into camp at the samespot, but without venturing to light any fire, merely snatching a coldbite, and dropping off to sleep with heads pillowed upon their saddles. 

They were upon the trail again with the first dimness of the gray dawn, wading the waters of the Fork, and striking forth across the dull levelof brown prairie and white alkali toward the Arkansas. They saw nothingall day moving in that wide vista about them, but rode steadily, scarcely exchanging a word, determined, grim, never swerving a yard fromthe faint trail. The pursued were moving slower, hampered, no doubt, bytheir lame horse, but were still well in advance. Moreover, the strainof the saddle was already beginning to tell severely on Waite, weakenedsomewhat by years, and the pursuers were compelled to halt oftener onhis account. The end of the second day found them approaching the brokenland bordering the Arkansas valley, and just before nightfall theypicked up a lame horse, evidently discarded by the party ahead. 

By this time Keith had reached a definite decision as to his course. Ifthe fugitives received a fresh relay of horses down there somewhere, andcrossed the Arkansas, he felt positively sure as to their destination. But it would be useless pushing on after them in the present shapeof his party--their horses worn out, and Waite reeling giddily in thesaddle. If Hawley's outfit crossed the upper ford, toward which theywere evidently heading, and struck through the sand hills, then theywere making for the refuge of that lone cabin on Salt Fork. Should thisprove true, then it was probable the gambler had not even yet discoveredthe identity of Hope, for if he had, he would scarcely venture upontaking her there, knowing that Keith would naturally suspect the spot. But Keith would not be likely to personally take up the trail in searchfor Christie Maclaire. It must have been Hawley then who had left theparty and ridden east, and up to that time he had not found out hismistake. Yet if he brought out the fresh animals the chances were thatHope's identity would be revealed. Bristoe, who had turned aside toexamine the straying horse, came trotting up. 

"Belonged to their outfit all right, Cap, " he reported, "carries thedouble cross brand and that shebang is upon the Smoky; saddle gallsstill bleeding. "

Waite was now suffering so acutely they were obliged to halt beforegaining sight of the river, finding, fortunately, a water-hole fed by aspring. As soon as the sick man could be made comfortable, Keith gaveto the others his conclusions, and listened to what they had to say. Bristoe favored clinging to the trail even though they must travelslowly, but Fairbain insisted that Waite must be taken to some townwhere he could be given necessary care. Keith finally decided thematter. 

"None can be more anxious to reach those fellows than I am, " hedeclared, "but I know that country out south, and we'll never getthrough to the Salt Fork without fresh horses. Besides, as the doctorsays, we've got to take care of Waite. If we find things as I expectwe'll ride for Carson City, and re-outfit there. What's more, we won'tlose much time--it's a shorter ride from there to the cabin than fromhere. "

By morning the General was able to sit his saddle again, and leavinghim with Neb to follow slowly, the others spurred forward, discoveredan outlet through the bluff into the valley, and crossed the Santa FéTrail. It was not easy to discover where those in advance had passedthis point, but they found evidence of a late camp in a little grove ofcottonwoods beside the river. There were traces of two trails leading tothe spot, one being that of the same five horses they had been followingso long, the other not so easily read, as it had been traversed in bothdirections, the different hoof marks obliterating each other. Bristoe, creeping about on hands and knees, studied the signs with the eyes of anIndian. 

"You kin see the diff'rence yere whar the ground is soft, Cap, " he said, pointing to some tracks plainer than the others. "This yere hoss had arider, but the rest of 'em was led; thet's why they've bungled up thertrail so. An' it wa'n't ther same bunch thet went back east what comefrom thar--see thet split hoof! thar ain't no split hoof p'inting therother way--but yere is the mark of the critter thet puts her foot downso fur outside thet we've been a trailin' from Sheridan, an' she'sp'inting east, an' being led. Now, let's see whar the bunch went fromyere with thet split hoof. "

This was not so easily accomplished owing to the nature of the ground, but at last the searchers stumbled onto tracks close in under the bank, and one of these revealed the split hoof. 

"That makes it clear, Ben, " exclaimed Keith, decidedly, staring outacross the river at the white sandhills. "They have kept in the edge ofthe water, making for the ford, which is yonder at the bend. They areout in the sand desert by this time riding for the Salt Fork. Whoeverhe was, the fellow brought them five horses, and the five old ones weretaken east again on the trail. The girl is still with the party, andwe'll go into Carson City and reoutfit. "

Chapter XXXIV. Again at the Cabin

They were two weary days reaching Carson City, travelling along theopen trail yet meeting with no one, not even a mail coach passing them. Evidently the Indians were so troublesome as to interrupt all trafficwith Santa Fé and the more western forts. The slowness of their progresswas on account of the General, whose condition became worse in spite ofFairbain's assiduous attentions. With no medicine the doctor coulddo but little to relieve the sufferings of the older man, although hedeclared that his illness was not a serious one, and would yield quicklyto proper medical treatment. They constructed a rude travois from limbsof the cottonwood, and securely strapped him thereon, one man leadingthe horse, while the doctor tramped behind. 

Keith, fretting more and more over this necessary delay, and nowobsessed with the thought that Hawley must have rejoined his partyon the Arkansas and gone south with them, finally broke away from theothers and rode ahead, to gather together the necessary horses andsupplies in advance of their arrival. He could not drive from his mindthe remembrance of the gambler's attempted familiarity with Hope, whenhe had her, as he then supposed, safe in his power once before in thatlonely cabin on the Salt Fork. Now, angry with baffled ambition, anda victim of her trickery, there was no guessing to what extremes thedesperado might resort. The possibilities of such a situation made theslightest delay in rescue an agony almost unbearable. Reaching CarsonCity, and perfectly reckless as to his own safety there from arrest, theplainsman lost no time in perfecting arrangements for pushing forward. Horses and provisions were procured, and he very fortunately discoveredin town two cowboys belonging to the "Bar X" outfit, their work thereaccomplished and about ready to return to, the ranch on the Canadian, who gladly allied themselves with his party, looking forward to thepossibilities of a fight with keen anticipation. Keith was more thanever delighted with adding these to his outfit, when, on the finalarrival of the others, the extra man brought from Sheridan announcedthat he had had enough, and was going to remain there. No efforts maderevealed any knowledge of Hawley's presence in Carson City; either hehad not been there, or else his friends were very carefully concealingthe fact. The utter absence of any trace, however, led Keith to believethat the gambler had gone elsewhere--probably to Fort Larned--for hisnew outfit, and this belief left him more fully convinced than ever ofthe fellow's efforts to conceal his trail. 

The party escorting Waite reached the town in the evening, and in thefollowing gray dawn, the adventurers forded the river, and mounted onfresh horses and fully equipped, headed forth into the sand hills. Thelittle company now consisted of Keith, Fairbain, who, in spite of hisrotundity of form had proven himself hard and fit, Neb, having chargeof the single pack-horse, the scout Bristoe, and the two cowboys of the"Bar X, " rough, wiry fellows, accustomed to exposure and peril. It wasemphatically a fighting outfit, and to be trusted in emergency. 

They followed the cattle trail south toward the Salt Fork, as thiscourse would afford them a camp at the only water-hole in all that widedesert lying between. With this certainty of water, they ventured topress their animals to swifter pace, although the sand made travellingheavy, and the trail itself was scarcely discernible. It was a hard, wearisome ride, hour after hour through the same dull, dreary landscapeof desolation, the hot, remorseless sun beating down upon them, reflecting up into their blistered faces from the hot surface of sand. There was scarcely a breath of air, and the bodies of men and horseswere bathed in perspiration. Not a cloud hung in the blue sky; no wingof a bird broke the monotony of distance, no living animal creptacross the blazing surface of the desert. Occasionally a distant mirageattracted the eye, making the dead reality even more horrible by itssemblance to water, yet never tempting them to stray aside. After thefirst mile conversation ceased, the men riding grimly, silently forward, intent only on covering all the distance possible. Late that night theycamped at the water-hole, sleeping as best they could, scourged by thechill wind which swept over them and lashed grit into exposed faces. With the first gray of dawn they swung stiffened forms into the saddlesand rode on, straight as the crow flies, for the Salt Fork. Theyattained that stream at sundown, gray with sand dust, their facesstreaked from perspiration, feeling as though the sun rays had burnedtheir brains, with horses fairly reeling under them. According toKeith's calculation this cattle-ford must be fully ten miles below wherethe cabin sought was situated; two hours' rest, with water and food, would put both horses and men again in condition, and the travellingwas easier along the banks of the Fork. With this in mind, cinches wereloosened, the animals turned out to graze, and the men, snatching ahasty bite, flung themselves wearily on the ground. 

All but Fairbain were asleep when Keith aroused them once more, a littlebefore nine, unable in his impatience to brook longer delay. Within tenminutes horses were saddled, weapons looked to carefully, and the littleparty began their advance through the darkness, moving cautiously overthe uneven ground, assisted greatly by the bright desert stars gleamingdown upon them from the cloudless sky overhead. The distance provedsomewhat less than had been anticipated, and Keith's watch was not yetat eleven, when his eyes revealed the fact that they had reached thenear vicinity of the lonely island on which the cabin stood. Reiningin his horse sharply, he swung to the ground, the others instantlyfollowing his example, realizing they had reached the end of the route. Hands instinctively loosened revolvers in readiness for action, theyounger of the "Bar X" men whistling softly in an effort to appearunconcerned. Keith, with a gesture, gathered them more closely abouthim. 

"If Hawley is here himself, " he said quietly, watching their faces inthe starlight, "he will certainly have a guard set, and there may be oneanyhow. We can't afford to take chances, for there will be five men, atleast, on the island, and possibly several more. If they are lookingfor trouble they will naturally expect it to come from thenorth--consequently we'll make our attack from the opposite direction, and creep in on them under the shadow of the corral. The first thingI want to do is to locate Miss Waite so she will be in no danger ofgetting hurt in the _mêleé_. You boys hold your fire, until I let looseor give the word. Now, Doctor, I want you and Neb to creep up this bankuntil you are directly opposite the cabin--he'll know the spot--and liethere out of sight until we begin the shooting. Then both sail in asfast as you can. I'll take Bristoe and you two 'Bar X' men along withme, and when we turn loose with our shooting irons you can all reckonthe fight is on. Any of you got questions to ask?"

No one said anything, the silence accented by the desert wind howlingmournfully in the branches of a near-by cottonwood. 

"All right then, boys, don't get excited and go off half cocked; be easyon your trigger fingers. Come along, you fellows who are travelling withme. "

The four crossed the stream, wading to their waists in the water, theirhorses left bunched on the south bank, and finally crawled out into abunch of mesquite. As they crept along through the darkness, whateverdoubts Keith might have previously felt regarding the presence on theisland of the party sought, were dissipated by the unmistakable noisemade by numerous horses in the corral. Slowly, testing each step asthey advanced, so no sound should betray them, the four men reached theshelter of the stockade. The older of the "Bar X" men lifted himself byhis hands, and peered cautiously over. 

"Eight hosses in thar, " he announced soberly; then turned to Keith. "Say, Jack, what do you figure this shebang to be, anyhow? You don'treckon it's old Sanchez's outfit, do yer?"

"Likely as not, Joe, though I never saw him around here. "

Joe filled his cheek with tobacco, staring about through the darkness. 

"Wall, if that ol' cuss is yere now we'uns is sure in fer a fight, " hecommented positively. 

They rounded the corral fence on hands and knees, crawled into a bunchof bushes somewhat to the rear of the silent, desolate-appearing cabin, and lay down flat behind a pile of saddles, from which position theycould plainly discern the rear door. There was no movement, no evidenceanywhere that a living soul was about the place. Keith could barelydistinguish that it was Bristoe lying next to him. 

"Had their camp over there in the corner of the corral when I was herebefore, " he said in a whisper. "Where do you suppose they can be now?"

The wary scout lifted his head, sniffing into the darkness like apointer dog. 

"West o' ther cabin thar, out o' ther wind, most likely. I smelltobacco. "

Even as the words left his lips a man came sauntering slowly around theeastern corner, his outlines barely visible, but the red glow of apipe bowl showing plainly. He stopped, directly facing them, yawningsleepily, and then turned the other corner. Another moment, and theydistinctly heard a voice:

"Hustle up thar now, Manuel, an' turn out; it's your watch; wake up, damn yer--maybe that'll bring yer ter life. "

The remedy applied to the sleeper must have been efficacious, as, an instant later, another figure slouched into view, the new arrivalrubbing his eyes with one hand, the other clutching a short-barrelledgun. From the high peak of his hat it was evident this new guard wasa Mexican. He walked to the corner, glanced along the east side walltoward the front of the cabin, and then, apparently satisfied the coastwas clear, started toward the stream, shuffling along within a foot ofwhere Keith lay flat on the ground. A moment later the men heard himsplashing softly in the water, and Keith rolled over, his lips atBristoe's ear. 

"Slip down there; Ben, " he whispered, "and quiet that fellow. I'll findout how many are on the west side. Do the job without any noise. "

He waited until the scout had disappeared like a snake, not even arustling leaf telling of his passage, and then silently crept forwardhimself, yet with less caution, until he was able to peer about thecorner of the cabin and dimly distinguish the blanketed forms of severalmen lying close in against the side wall. They rested so nearly togetherit was difficult to separate them in that darkness, stars giving theonly light, but he finally determined their number at five. Five; theMexican would make six, and there would surely be another guard postedout in the front--seven. But there were eight horses down there inthe corral. Then the eighth man--Hawley, without doubt--must be in thecabin. At the thought Keith's teeth clinched, and he had to struggle tocontrol his passion. But no; that would never do; he must discover firstexactly where the girl was located; after that they would attend tothe curs. Before creeping back to the others, he made quick examinationalong the rear of the cabin, but could find no visible point ofweakness. He tried to recall from memory the nature of the lock on thatback door, but could remember nothing except an ordinary wooden latch. If he could insert a knife into the crack that might very easilybe dislodged. He drew his hunting knife for the attempt, and, firstglancing about, perceived a man creeping toward him. It proved to beBristoe. 

"Fixed the greaser all right, cap, and I reckon he'll be quiet for anhour or two. Look whar he slashed me; struck a pack o' playin' keerds, er I'd a got my ticket. " The front of his blouse was cut wide open, andKeith thought he perceived a stain of blood. 

"Pricked you as it was, didn't he?"

"Opened the skin. Thought the cuss had give up, an' got careless. What's'round to the west?"

Keith's lips closed, his hand shutting hard on the knife. 

"Five, and another out in front; that leaves the eighth man inside. Bring our fellows up closer, and post them where they can cover thosefellows asleep, while I make an effort at breaking in here. "

Bristoe crawled back like a snail, and confident the others would dotheir part, Keith thrust his knife blade deep into the narrow crack, and began probing after the latch. In spite of all caution this effortcaused a slight noise, and suddenly he started back, at the sound of awoman's voice:

"What do you want? I am armed, and will fire through the door if you donot go away!"

His heart leaping with exultation, Keith put his lips close to thecrack. 

"Hope, " he exclaimed as loudly as he dared. "This is Keith; open thedoor. "

He could hear a little smothered cry break from her lips, and then thesound of a bar being hastily removed. An instant, and the door openedsilently, just wide enough to permit her slender figure to slip through. She grasped him with her hands, turning his face to the light of thestars, and he could feel her form tremble. 

"Oh, I knew you would come! I knew you would come!" she sobbed, thewords barely audible. 

The man's lips set firmly, yet he held her close to him, begging her notto break down now. 

"It's all right, little girl, " he said pleadingly, "we've got you safe, but there is a fight to be attended to. Come with me; I must ask you aquestion or two. "

He drew her back into the fringe of bushes, placing her safely behindthe stack of saddles. She was not crying any more, just clinging to him, as though she could never again bear to let him go. 

"Oh, Jack, it is so good just to feel you near again. "

"Yes, dear, " soothingly, "and it is good to hear you say Jack, but tellme one thing--is any one else in the cabin? Is Hawley here?"

"No, no! He left us early the first morning. I haven't either seen orheard of him since. The men have left me alone since we got here; I havehad the cabin all to myself until to-night. I have not suffered, only mentally--from dread of what they intended doing with me--untilto-night. Three men rode in here just before sundown--two Mexicans andan Indian. One of them was an awful looking old man, with a scar on hischeek, and a face that made me shudder. He didn't see me, but I saw himthrough the window, and he had such strange eyes. All the men acted asthough they were afraid of him, and I heard him say he didn't care whatHawley's orders were, he was going to sleep inside; if the girl didn'tlike it she could take the other room. I didn't know what to do--oh, Iwas so afraid of him; but what he said gave me an idea, and I went intothe back room, and put up a bar across the door. When he came in hetried the door; then he spoke through it, but I never answered; andfinally he lay down and went to sleep. I sat there in the dark so long, and when I heard you--I--I thought it must be some of the others. "

He stroked her hair, whispering words of encouragement. 

"That is all done with now, Hope, and we'll have those fellows at ourmercy in another half-hour. But I must go now to the boys; lie down herebehind these saddles, and don't move until I come for you. I can trustyou to remain right here?"

"Yes. " He was bending over, and her eyes were upon his face. Suddenly, obeying an irresistible impulse, he clasped her to him, and their lipsmet. 

"Sweetheart, " he whispered softly. 

He could not hear her answer, but her arms were about his neck. 

Chapter XXXV. The Cabin Taken

His heart beating with new happiness, yet conscious of the stern dutystill confronting him, Keith joined the others, giving them, in awhisper, a hurried account of Hope's release from the cabin, and of whatshe had to report. 

"It's old Juan Sanchez in the front room, boys, " he added soberly, "andthere is ten thousand dollars reward out for him, dead or alive. "

Joe of the "Bar X" drew in his breath sharply. 

"It'll sure be dead then, " he muttered, "that cuss will never be got noother way. "

They went at it in the grim silent manner of the West, wasting littletime, feeling no mercy. One by one the unconscious sleepers werearoused, each waking to find a steel barrel pressing against hisforehead, and to hear a stern voice say ominously, "Not a move, Johnny;yes, that's a gun; now get up quietly, and step out here. " Resistancewas useless, and the five, rendered weaponless, were herded back towardthe corral. They all belonged to Hawley's outfit; one, a black-whiskeredsurly brute Bristoe remembered having seen in Sheridan. There was notime to deal with them then, and a "Bar X" man was placed on guard, withorders to shoot at the slightest suspicious movement. 

The Indian, then, would be guarding the front of the house, and Sanchezsleeping inside. Well, the former could be left alone; his chance ofescape would be small enough with Fairbain and Neb on the opposite bank. Old Sanchez was the villain they wanted--dead or alive. With this inview, and anxious to make a quick job of it, the three entered the backroom, and, revolvers in hand, groped their way across to the connectingdoor. As Hope had described, this had been securely fastened by a stoutwooden bar. Bristoe forced it from the sockets, not without some slightnoise, and Keith, crouching down at one side, lifted the latch. "Keepdown low, boys, " he cautioned, "where he can't hit you. "

With one quick push he flung the door wide open, and a red flash lit theroom. There were two sharp reports, the bullets crashing into the wallbehind them, the sudden blaze of flame revealing the front door open, and within it the black outline of a man's figure. Two of the men firedin instant response, leaping recklessly forward, but were as quicklyleft blind in the darkness, the outer door slammed in their faces. Outside there was a snarl of rage, another shot, a fierce curse inSpanish; then Keith flung the door wide open, and leaped down the step. As he did so he struck a body, and fell forward, his revolver knockedfrom his hand. Rising to his knees, the dim light of the stars revealeda man already half across the stream. Suddenly two sparks of fire leapedforth from the blackness of the opposite bank; the man flung up hishand, staggered, then went stumbling up the stream, knee deep in water. He made a dozen yards, reeling as though drunk, and fell forward, facedown across a spit of sand. Keith stared out at the black, motionlessshape, felt along the ground for his lost gun, and arose to his feet. Bristoe had turned over the dead body at the foot of the steps, and waspeering down into the upturned face. 

"It's the Indian, " he said grimly, "Sanchez must 'a' mistook him fer oneof us, and shot the poor devil. "

"And Sanchez himself is out yonder on that sand-spit, " and Keithpointed; then lifted his voice to make it carry across the stream. "Comeon over, Doctor, you and Neb. We've got the gang. Bring that body outthere along with you. "

The "Bar X" man waded out to help, and the three together laid the deadMexican outlaw on the bank beside the Indian he had shot down in hiseffort to escape. Keith stood for a moment bending low to look curiouslyinto the dead face--wrinkled, scarred, still featuring cruelty, the thinlips drawn back in a snarl. What scenes of horror those eyes hadgazed upon during fifty years of crime; what suffering of men, women, children; what deeds of rapine; what examples or merciless hate. JuanSanchez!--the very sound of the name made the blood run cold. "Dead oralive!" Well, they had him at last--dead; and the plainsman shuddered, as he turned away. 

Taking Fairbain with him, and hastily reviewing late occurrences tohim, Keith crossed over to the corral, realizing that their work--hiswork--was not wholly done until Hawley had been located. With this questin mind he strode straight to the black-bearded giant who had guardedHope from Sheridan. 

"What is your name?" he asked sharply. 

The man looked up scowling. 

"Hatchett, " he answered gruffly. 

"Well, Hatchett, I am going to ask you a question or two, and adviseyou to reply just about as straight as you know how. I am in no moodto-night for any foolishness. Where is 'Black Bart' Hawley?"

"How in hell should I know?"

"You do know, just the same. Perhaps not to an inch, or a mile, butyou know near enough where he is, and where he has been since you leftSheridan. "

"If I do, I'm damned if I'll tell you. "

"No? Well now, Hatchett, listen to me, " and Keith's voice had in it theclick of a steel trap. "You'll either answer, and answer straight, orwe'll hang you to that cottonwood in about five minutes. If you wanta chance for your miserable life you answer me. We have our way oftreating your kind out in this country. Sit up, you brute! Now where didHawley go after he left you?"

"To Fort Larned. "

"After those fresh horses?"

"Yes. "

"He didn't bring them to you; I know that. Where has he been since?"

"Topeky and Leavenworth. "

"How do you know?"

"He writ me a note the boss herder brought. "

"Hand it over. "

Keith took the dirty slip of paper the man reluctantly extracted fromhis belt, and Fairbain lit matches while he ran his eyes hastily overthe lines. As he ended he crushed the paper between his fingers, andwalked away to the end of the corral. He wanted to be alone, to think, to decide definitely upon what he ought to do. Hawley, according to theschedule just read, must have left Larned alone early the day before;this night he would be camped at the water-hole; with daybreak heexpected to resume his lonely journey across the desert to the SaltFork. For years Keith had lived a primitive life, and in some ways histhought had grown primitive. His code of honor was that of the border, tinged by that of the South before the war. The antagonism existingbetween him and this gambler was personal, private, deadly--not anaffair for any others--outsiders--to meddle with. He could waithere, and permit Hawley to be made captive; could watch him rideunsuspectingly into the power of these armed men, and then turn him overto the law to be dealt with. The very thought nauseated him. That wouldbe a coward's act, leaving a stain never to be eradicated. No, he mustmeet this as became a man, and now, now before Hope so much as dreamedof his purpose--aye, and before he spoke another word of love to Hope. He wheeled about fully decided on his course, his duty, and met Fairbainface to face. 

"Jack, " the latter said earnestly, "I read the note over your shoulder, and of course I know what you mean to do. A Southern gentleman couldnot choose otherwise. But I've come here to beg you to let me have thechance. "

"You?" surprised and curious. "What greater claim on that fellow's lifehave you than I?"

The pudgy hands of the doctor grasped the plainsman's shoulders. 

"It's for Christie, " he explained brokenly. "She was the one he tried torun away with. You--you know how I feel. "

"Sure, I know, " shaking the other off, yet not roughly. "But it happenedto be Miss Waite he took, and so this is my job, Fairbain. Besides, I'vegot another score to settle with him. "

He wasted little time upon preparations, --a few brief words ofinstruction to Bristoe; a request to the doctor not to leave Hope alone;the extracting of a promise from the two "Bar X" men to return to Larnedwith the prisoners. Then he roped the best horse in the corral, saddledand bridled him, and went into the cabin. She had a light burning, andmet him at the door. 

"I thought you would never come, but they told me you were unhurt. "

"Not a scratch, little girl; we have been a lucky bunch. But I have hada great deal to look after. Now I shall be obliged to ride ahead as faras the water-hole, and let you come on with the others a little later, after you get breakfast. You can spare me a few hours, can't you?"

His tone was full of good humor, and his lips smiling, yet somehow shefelt her heart sink, an inexplicable fear finding expression in hereyes. 

"But--but why do you need to go? Couldn't some of the others?"

"There is a reason which I will explain later, " he said, more gravely. "Surely you can trust me, Hope, and feel that I am only doing what itseems absolutely necessary for me to do?" He bent down, and kissed her. "It will be only for a few hours, and no cause for worry. Good-bye now, until we meet to-night at the water-hole. "

The east was gray with coming daylight as he rode plashing across thestream and up the opposite bank. She watched hint, rubbing the blindingmist from her eyes, until horse and man became a mere dark speck, finally fading away completely into the dull plain of the desert. 

Chapter XXXVI. The Duel in the Desert

Keith rode straight forward into the sandy desolation, spurring hishorse into a swift trot. After one glance backward as they clambered upthe steep bank, a glance which revealed Hope's slender form in the cabindoor, his eyes never turned again that way. He had a man's stern workto do out yonder, and his purpose could not be swerved, his firmnessof hand and keenness of eye affected, by any thought of her. His lipscompressed, his fingers gripping the rein, he drove all regretful memoryfrom his mind, until every nerve within him throbbed in unison with hispresent purpose. He was right; he knew he was right. It was not hate, not even revenge, which had sent him forth, leaving love behind, buthonor--the honor of the South, and of the frontier, of his ancestry andhis training--honor that drove him now to meet Hawley face to face, man to man, to settle the feud between them for all time. And he rodesmiling, gladly, as to a tryst, now that he was at last alone, free inthe desert. 

The hours passed, the sun rising higher in the blazing blue of the sky;the horse, wearied by the constant pull of the sand, had long sinceslowed down to a walk; the last dim blur of the cottonwoods along theFork had disappeared; and the rider swayed in the saddle, the deadlifelessness of sky and desert dulling his brain. Yet he had notforgotten his errand--rousing constantly from lethargy to sweep hisshaded eyes about the rounded horizon, keenly marking the slightestshadow across the sands, taking advantage of every drift to givehim wider viewpoint, rising in his stirrups to scan the leagues ofdesolation ahead. Twice he drew his revolver from out its sheath, testedit, and slipped in a fresh cartridge, returning the weapon more lightlyto its place, the flap of the holster turned back and held open by hisleg. The sun beat upon him like a ball of fire, the hot sand flingingthe blaze back into his face. He pushed back the upper part of hisshirt, and drank a swallow of tepid water from a canteen strapped behindthe saddle. His eyes ached with the glare, until he saw fantastic redand yellow shapes dancing dizzily before him. The weariness of the longnight pressed upon his eye-balls; he felt the strain of the past hours, the lack of food, the need of rest. His head nodded, and he broughthimself to life again with a jerk and a muttered word, staring out intothe dim, formless distance. Lord, if there was only something moving;something he could concentrate his attention upon; something to rest thestraining eyes!

But there was nothing, absolutely nothing--just that seemingly endlessstretch of sand, circled by the blazing sky, the wind sweeping itssurface soundless, and hot, as though from the pits of hell; no stir, nomotion, no movement of anything animate or inanimate to break the awfulmonotony. Death! it was death everywhere! his aching eyes rested onnothing but what was typical of death. Even the heat waves seemedfantastic, grotesque, assuming spectral forms, as though ghosts beckonedand danced in the haze, luring him on to become one of themselves. Keithwas not a dreamer, nor one to yield easily to such brain fancies, butthe mad delirium of loneliness gripped him, and he had to struggle backto sanity, beating his hands upon his breast to stir anew thesluggish circulation of his blood, and talking to the horse in strangefeverishness. 

With every step of advance the brooding silence seemed more profound, more deathlike. He got to marking the sand ridges, their slightvariations giving play to the brain. Way off to the left was the mirageof a lake, apparently so real that he had to battle with himself to keepfrom turning aside. He dropped forward in the saddle, his head hanginglow, so blinded by the incessant sun glare he could no longer bear theglitter of that horrible ocean of sand. It was noon now--noon, and hehad been riding steadily seven hours. The thought brought his blurredeyes again to the horizon. Where could he be, the man he sought in theheart of this solitude? Surely he should be here by now, if he had leftthe water-hole at dawn. Could he have gone the longer route, south tothe Fork? The possibility of such a thing seared through him like a hotiron, driving the dulness from his brain, the lethargy from his limbs. God! no! Fate could never play such a scurvy trick as that! The manmust have been delayed; had failed to leave camp early--somewhere ahead, yonder where the blue haze marked the union of sand and sky, he wassurely coming, riding half dead, and drooping in the saddle. 

Again Keith rose in his stirrups, rubbing the mist out of his eyes thathe might see clearer, and stared ahead. What was that away out yonder?a shadow? a spot dancing before his tortured vision? or a moving, livingsomething which he actually saw? He could not tell, he could not besure, yet he straightened up expectantly, shading his eyes, andnever losing sight of the object. It moved, grew larger, darker, morereal--yet how it crawled, crawled, crawled toward him. It seemed asif the vague, shapeless thing would, never take form, never standout revealed against the sky so he could determine the truth. He hadforgotten all else--the silent desert, the blazing sun, the burningwind--all his soul concentrated on that speck yonder. Suddenly itdisappeared--a swale in the sand probably--and, when it rose into viewagain, he uttered a cry of joy--it was a horse and rider!

Little by little they drew nearer one another, two black specks in thatvast ocean of sand, the only moving, living things under the brazencircle of the sky. Keith was ready now, his eyes bright, the cockedrevolver gripped hard in his hand. The space between them narrowed, andHawley saw him, caught a glimpse of the face under the broad hat brim, the burning eyes surveying him. With an oath he stopped his horse, dragging at his gun, surprised, dazed, yet instantly understanding. Keith also halted, and across the intervening desert the eyes of thetwo men met in grim defiance. The latter wet his dry lips, and spokeshortly: "I reckon you know what this means, Hawley, and why I am here. We're Southerners both of us, and we settle our own personal affairs. You've got to fight me now, man to man. "

The gambler glanced about him, and down at his horse. If he thought offlight it was useless. His lip curled with contempt. 

"Damn your talking, Keith, " he returned savagely. "Let's have it overwith, " and spurred his horse. The gun of the other came up. 

"Wait!" and Hawley paused, dragging at his rein. "One of us most likelyis going to die here; perhaps both. But if either survives he'll need ahorse to get out of this alive. Dismount; I'll do the same; step awayso the horses are out of range, and then we'll fight it out--is thatsquare?"

Without a word, his eyes gleaming with cunning hatred, the gambler swungdown from his saddle onto the sand, his horse interposed between him andthe other. Keith did the same, his eyes peering across the back of hisanimal. 

"Now, " he said steadily, "when I count three drive your horse aside, andlet go--are you ready?"

"Damn you--yes!"

"Then look out--one! two! three!"

The plainsman struck his horse with the quirt in his left hand, andsprang swiftly aside so as to clear the flank of the animal, hisshooting arm flung out. There was a flash of flame across Hawley'ssaddle, a sharp report, and Keith reeled backward, dropping to hisknees, one hand clutching the sand. Again Hawley fired, but the horse, startled by the double report, leaped aside, and the ball went wild. Keith wheeled about, steadying himself with his outstretched hand, andlet drive, pressing the trigger, until, through the haze over his eyes, he saw Hawley go stumbling down, shooting wildly as he fell. The mannever moved, and Keith endeavored to get up, his gun still held ready, the smoke circling about them. He had been shot treacherously, as acowardly cur might shoot, and he could not clear his mind of the thoughtthat this last act hid treachery also. But he could not raise himself, could not stand; red and black shadows danced before his eyes; hebelieved he saw the arm of the other move. Like a snake he creptforward, holding himself up with one hand, his head dizzily reeling, buthis gun held steadily on that black, shapeless object lying on the sand. Then the revolver hand began to quiver, to shake, to make odd circles;he couldn't see; it was all black, all nothingness. Suddenly he wentdown face first into the sand. 

They both lay motionless, the thirsty sand drinking in their life blood, Hawley huddled up upon his left side, his hat still shading the glazingeyes, Keith lying flat, his face in the crook of an arm whose hand stillgripped a revolver. There was a grim smile on his lips, as if, even ashe pitched forward, he knew that, after he had been shot to death, hehad gotten his man. The riderless horses gazed at the two figures, anddrifted away, slowly, fearfully, still held in mute subjection totheir dead masters by dangling reins. The sun blazed down from directlyoverhead, the heat waves rising and falling, the dead, desolate desertstretching to the sky. An hour, two hours passed. The horses were now ahundred yards away, nose to nose; all else was changeless. Then into thefar northern sky there rose a black speck, growing larger and larger;others came from east and west, beating the air with widely outspreadwings, great beaks stretched forward. Out from their nests of foulnessthe desert scavengers were coming for their spoil. 

Chapter XXXVII. At the Water-Hole

Up from the far, dim southwest they rode slowly, silently, wearied stillby the exertions of the past night, and burned by the fierce rays ofthe desert sun. No wind of sufficient force had blown since Keith passedthat way, and they could easily follow the hoof prints of his horseacross the sand waste. Bristoe was ahead, hat brim drawn low, scanningthe horizon line unceasingly. Somewhere out in the midst of that mysterywas hidden tragedy, and he dreaded the knowledge of its truth. Behindhim Fairbain, and Hope rode together, their lips long since grownsilent, the man ever glancing uneasily aside at her, the girl droopingslightly in the saddle, with pale face and heavy eyes. Five prisoners, lashed together, the binding ropes fastened to the pommels of the two"Bar X" men's saddles, were bunched together, and behind all came Neb, his black face glistening in the heat. 

Suddenly Bristoe drew rein, and rose to his full length in thestirrups, shading his eyes from the sun's glare, as he stared ahead. Twomotionless black specks were visible--yet were they motionless? or wasit the heat waves which seemed to yield them movement? He drove in hisspurs, driving his startled horse to the summit of a low sand ridge, andagain halted, gazing intently forward. He was not mistaken--theywere horses. Knowing instantly what it meant--those riderless animalsdrifting derelict in the heart of the desert--his throat dry with fear, the scout wheeled, and spurred back to his party, quickly resolving on acourse of action. Hawley and Keith had met; both had fallen, eitherdead or wounded. A moment's delay now might cost a life; he would needFairbain, but he must keep the girl back, if possible. But could he? Shestraightened up in the saddle as he came spurring toward them; her eyeswide open, one hand clutching at her throat. 

"Doctor, " he called as soon as he was near enough, his horse circling, "thar is somethin' showin' out yonder I'd like ter take a look at, an' Ireckon you better go 'long. The nigger kin com' up ahead yere with MissWaite. "

She struck her horse, and he plunged forward, bringing her face to facewith Bristoe. 

"What is it? Tell me, what is it?"

"Nothin' but a loose hoss, Miss. "

"A horse! here on the desert?" looking about, her eyes dark with horror. "But how could that be? Could--could it be Captain Keith's?"

Bristoe cast an appealing glance at Fairbain, mopping his facevigorously, not knowing what to say, and the other attempted to turn thetide. 

"Not likely--not likely at all--no reason why it should be--probablyjust a stray horse--you stay back here, Miss Hope--Ben and I will findout, and let you know. "

She looked at the two faces, realizing intuitively that they wereconcealing something. 

"No, I'm going, " she cried, stifling a sob in her throat. "It would killme to wait here. "

She was off before either might raise hand or voice in protest, and theycould only urge their horses in effort to overtake her, the three racingforward fetlock deep in sand. Mounted upon a swifter animal Fairbainforged ahead; he could see the two horses now plainly, their headsuplifted, their reins dangling. Without perceiving more he knew alreadywhat was waiting them there on the sand, and swore fiercely, spurringhis horse mercilessly, forgetful of all else, even the girl, in hisintense desire to reach and touch the bodies. He had begged to do thishimself, to be privileged to seek this man Hawley, to kill him--butnow he was the physician, with no other thought except a hope to save. Before his horse had even stopped he flung himself from the saddle, ranforward and dropped on his knees beside Keith, bending his ear to thechest, grasping the wrist in his fingers. As the others approached, heglanced up, no conception now of aught save his own professional work. 

"Water, Bristoe, " he exclaimed sharply, "Dash some brandy in it. Quicknow. There, that's it; hold his head up--higher. Yes, you do it, MissHope; here, Ben, take this, and pry his teeth open--well, he got aswallow anyhow. Hold him just as he is--can you stand it? I've got tofind where he was hit. "

"Yes--yes, " she answered, "don't--don't mind me. "

He tore open the woolen shirt, soaked with blood already hardening, felt within with skilled fingers, his eyes keen, his lips mutteringunconsciously. 

"Quarter of an inch--quarter of an inch too high--scraped thelung--Lord, if I can only get it out--got to do it now--can'twait--here, Bristoe, that leather case on my saddle--run, damnyou--we'll save him yet, girl--there, drop his head in your lap--yes, cry if you want to--only hold still--open the case, will you--down here, where I can reach it--now water--all our canteens--Hope, tear me off astrip of your under-skirt--what am I going to do?--extract the ball--gotto do it--blood poison in this sun. "

She ripped her skirt, handing it to him without a word; then dropped herwhite face in her hands, bending, with closed eyes, over the whiter faceresting on her lap, her lips trembling with the one prayer, "Oh, God!Oh, God!" How long he was at it, or what he did, she scarcely knew--sheheard the splash of water; caught the flash of the sun on the probe;felt the half conscious shudder of the wounded man, whose head was inher lap, the deft, quick movements of Fairbain, and then--

"That's it--I've got it--missed the lung by a hair--damn me I'm proud ofthat job--you're a good girl. "

She looked at him, scarce able to see, her eyes blinded with tears. 

"Will--will he live? Oh, tell me!"

"Live! Why shouldn't he?--nothing but a hole to close up--nature'll dothat, with a bit of nursing--here, now, don't you keel over--give me therest of that skirt. "

He bandaged the wound, then glanced about suddenly. 

"How's the other fellow?"

"Dead, " returned Bristoe, "shot through the heart. "

"Thought so--have seen Keith shoot before--I wonder how the cuss evermanaged to get him. "

As he arose to his feet, his red face glistening with perspiration, and began strapping his leather case, the others rode up, and Bristoe, explaining the situation, set the men to making preparations for pushingon to the water-hole. Blankets were swung between ponies, and the bodiesof the dead and wounded deposited therein, firm hands on the bridles. Hope rode close beside Keith, struggling to keep back the tears, as shewatched him lying motionless, unconscious, scarcely breathing. So, underthe early glow of the desert stars, they came to the water-hole, andhalted. 

The wounded man opened his eyes, and looked about him unable tocomprehend. At first all was dark, silent; then he saw the starsoverhead, and a breath of air fanned the near-by fire, the ruddy glowof flame flashing across his face. He heard voices faintly, and thus, little by little, consciousness asserted itself and memory struggledback into his bewildered brain. The desert--the lonely leagues ofsand--his fingers gripped as if they felt the stock of a gun--yet thatwas all over--he was not there--but he was somewhere--and alive, alive. It hurt him to move, to breathe even, and after one effort to turnover, he lay perfectly still, staring up into the black arch of sky, endeavoring to think, to understand--where was he? How had he comethere? Was Hawley alive also? A face bent over him, the features faintlyvisible in the flash of firelight. His dull eyes lit up in suddenrecollection. 

"Doc! is that you?"

"Sure, old man, " the pudgy fingers feeling his pulse, the gray eyestwinkling. "Narrow squeak you had--going to pull through all right, though--no sign of fever. "

"Where am I?"

"At the water-hole; sling you in a blanket, and get you into Larnedto-morrow. "

There was a moment's silence, Keith finding it hard to speak. 

"Hawley--?" he whispered at last. 

"Oh, don't worry; you got him all right. Say, " his voice sobering, "maybe it was just as well you took that job. If it had been me I wouldhave been in bad. "

The wounded man's eyes questioned. 

"It's a bad mix-up, Keith. Waite never told us all of it. I reckon hedidn't want her to know, and she never shall, if I can help it. I Vebeen looking over some papers in his pocket--he'd likely been after themthis trip--and his name ain't Hawley. He's Bartlett Gale, Christie'sfather. "

Keith could not seem to grasp the thought, his eyes half-closed. 

"Her--her father?" ne questioned, weakly. "Do you suppose he knew?"

"No; not at first, anyhow; not at Sheridan. He was too interested in hisscheme to even suspicion he had actually stumbled onto the real girl. Ithink he just found out. "

A coyote howled somewhere in the darkness, a melancholy chorus joiningin with long-drawn cadence. A shadow swept into the radius of dancingfirelight. 

"Is he conscious, Doctor?"

Fairbain drew back silently, and she dropped on her knees at Keith'sside, bending low to look into his face. 

"Hope--Hope. "

"Yes, dear, and you are going to live now--live for me. "

He found her hand, and held it, clasped within his own, his eyes wideopen. 

"I have never told you, " he said, softly, "how much I love you. "

She bent lower until her cheek touched his. 

"No, Jack, but you may now. "

THE END