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instead of saloons, gambling houses,
road bandits and routabouts. A man
of clear record, who will make the
district proud of him, deserves the
"Is there a better one than you!"
cried Nance, her eyes sparkling with
pride. "Is there a man who has made
Lucky Gulch clean and respectable as
you have-done? What Is it, Ransome
what is troubling you?"
"It is--no, I can't tell even you!"
declared Jordan. "At least not now
not yet, Nance, do you trust me?"
"To the death and after!"
"If I go away away to to pay a
debt, to clear the books, to take my
medicine like a man so that when I
come back and can look every man
in the face and say honestly I owe
the world nothing, what will you
Nance gave her husband one look
of ineffable love and faith. Then she
stood back with set lips and steady
"Ransome," she said resolutely,
"how soon shall I help you pack up
for your journey?"
And thus began the pilgrimage of
Ransome Jordan. It was no brief
one: over the ranges, past the prai
ries, the great lakes, the eastern
ranges, and one evening the train to
Easton, a little New England town,
halted to let off the pilgrim arrived.
This was his Mecca perhaps his
Gethsemane, he knew not, but was
sturdy for the outcome, be it what it
might DuBk was falling. In a cer
tain furtive way Ransome Jordan
strolled through his native town, and
every step he advanced seemed ac
companied by dim hovering wraiths
of the past
Several times he passed under the
red lamp of a police station. Finally
he entered the place, asked for the of
ficer in charge, and was shown into
I the captain's private office. The offi
cial gianceu auuunugiy tti uus urunz
ed, stalwart specimen of humanity.
"I am from the West," stated Jor
dan without ceremony. "I have come
to give myself up as a fugitive from
The police captain regarded his
visitor with curious expectation.
"My name is Ransome Jordan. Did
you ever hear it before?"
A strange smile crossed the face of
"Why, yes" he began, but Jordan
went on with his story!
"I was a wild, wilful fellow here
years ago, and trained with a wilder
crowd. One night in a drunken brawl
a friend named Prescott insulted and
attacked me. I resented him with a
knife thrust. I heard later he died.
It was self defense, but I have come
back to clean the slate, whatever the
law may so."
"I have heard of you!" cried the of
ficial, arising and wringing the hand
of Jordan with strange fervor. "Come
He led his visitor into an adjoining
court room. He pointed at a large oil
"William Prescott still lives; He is
judge of this court, and after that
night you refer to became a reformed
"Thank heaven!" murmured Jor
dan in a great aspiration of joy and
"Do you recall ilothing further of
that night?" asked the official, a
queer expression on his lips.
"Little but flight, despair. My brain
was crazed with the drink and the
horror of my deed. I recall a fire, and
plunging into its exciting whirl, hop
ing fate would blot me out."
"Again come with me," invited
He led the way to the street and to
the outskirts of the town where a
large building stood.
"The fire you speak of," he said,
"destroyed the old structure of the
Dorothea Sisterhood. That night a
brave man by means of a plank span
ning two roofs saved every soul in
the building from death. You never
heard of it? Strange! See," and Jor
dan's guide pointed to a neat column