The Pleasantville press., January 24, 1912, Page 2, Image 2

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Ikeith
-OF THE
BORDER
A TALE OF THE PLAINS
By RANDALL PARRISH
Author of "MY LADY OF THE SOUTH,"
"WHEN WILDERNESS WAS KING,” etc.
I Illustrations by DEARBORN MELV1LL.
(Copyright, A. C. McClurg A Co., 1910.)
(Continued.)
8/NOPSIS.
CHAPTER I—jack Keith a typical bor
der plainsman, Is riding along the Santa
Fe trail on the lookout for roaming war
parties of savages. Keith had won his
spurs as captain In a Virginia regiment
during the civil war. He had left the
service to find his old southern home in
sshes, his friends scattered, and the fas
cination of wild western Ufe had allured
klm. He notices u camp fire at a dis
tance and tiien sees a team attached ts
a wagon and at full gallop pursued by
men on ponies.
CHAPTER II—When Keith reaches
the wagon the raiders have massacred
two men, shot the horses and departed.
He searches the victims finding papers
and a locket with a woman’s portrait. Ha
rsaolves to hunt down the murderers.
CHAPTER III—Keith reaches Carson
City and ia arrested there charged with
murdering and robbing the two travelers.
His accuser Is given as Black Bart, a
notorious ruffian.
CHAPTER IV.—They can readily swear
the crime on Keith. The latter goes to
lail fully realizing the peril of swift bor
der Justice. A companion in his cell ia S
negro, who tells him lie Is Neb and that
he knew the Keith family back In Vir
ginia.
CHAPTER V-rNeb knows about the
two murdered men from the description
by Keith. He says one was John Sibley,
the other Gen. Willis Waite, formerly an
officer In the Confederate army.
CHAPTER VI—The plainsman and bis
humble friend escape from the celL
CHAPTER vn—The two fugitives be
come lost In the sand dssert.
CHAPTER VIII—They come upon s
oabln and find Its lone occupant to be a
teautiful young girl. Keith reedgnizes
er as a singer he saw at Carson City.
CHAPTER IX—The girl explains that
she came there In search of a brother
who had deserted from the army. She
had met a Mr. Hawley, who had induced
her to come to the cabin while he sought
to locate her brother.
CHAPTER X—Hawley appears, and
Keith in hiding recognizes him as tbs
notorious Black Bart. Hawley tries ts
make love to the girL
CHAPTER XI—There Is a terrific bat
tle In the darkened room In which Keith
evercomes Black Bart. Horses are ap
propriated, and the girl who says that
her name is Hope, joins In the escape.
CHAPTER XII—Keith explains his sit
uation as a fugitive from justice.
CHAPTER XIII—The fugitives make
for the ford of the Arkansas aiming ts
reach Fort Larned.
i. CHAPTER XIV—Here the girl Is isft
B charge of the hotel landladv.
CHAPTER XV—Keith Is riding Black
Bart’s horse, and in the saddle-bags dis
covers a letter bearing the name of Chris
tie Maclalre and he believes Miss Hope
deoelved him in disclaiming that name.
Miss Hope tells the landlady that she Is
the daughter of General Waite.
CHAPTER XVI—The fugitives Keith
and Neb drift Into Sheridan. Here Keith
meets an old friend named Falrbaln, a
doctor. The plainsman speaks of the
ip murder of General Wtite, but Falrbaln
“ insists that he saw the general alive la
Sheridan only the day previous,
CHAPTER XVII—At the tavern Keith
ia disturbed by the talk of two men In
an adjoining apartment. One of them
■peaks of trying to find Black Bart. Ha
•alia his companion, Fred Willoughby,
which Is the assumed name of the broth
er of Hope Waite. When the other man
Is gone, Keith enters the room.
CHAPTER XVIII—Willoughby acknowl
edges that Hope is hla, sister, but Is eva
sive about Christie Maclalre.
CHAPTER XIX—An overheard conver
sation convinces Keith that Hope Waite
la not the stage singer Christie Maclalre,
but that Black Bart has some plot In
progress involving the two girls and the
profligate brother.
CHAPTER XX—Hope, getting a clew
fethe fact that General Waite Is at
eridan, starts for that town.
CHAPTER XXI—Hope Waite Is mis
taken for Christie Maclalre at Sheridan.
CHAPTER XXII—Keith meets thi
Christie Maclalre and finds that Black
Bart has convinced her that there Is a
mystery In her life which he Is going to
turn to her advantage.
CHAPTER XXIII.
An Unexpected Meeting.
Keith paused at the landing, look
ing down into the deserted office, al
most tempted to return and force
Hawley Into a confession of his pur
pose. It was ea^.y for him to con
ceive what would be the final result
•f this interview between the artistic
gambler and Miss Maclaire. In spite
of the vague suspicion of evil which
the plainsman had implanted within
the woman’s mind, the other possessed
the advantage, and would certainly
Improve It. All conditions were de
cidedly in his favor. He merely
needed to convince the girl that she
was actually the party sought, and
she would go forward, playing the
game he desired, believing herself
right, totally unconscious of any
fraud. The very simplicity of it ren
dered the plot the more dangerous,
the more difficult to expose. Hawley
had surely been favored by fortune is
discovering this singer who chanced
to resemble Hope so remarkably, and
who, at the saihe time, was in such
Ignorance as to her own parentage.
She would be ready to grasp at a
straw, and, once persuaded as to her
Identity and legal rights, could hence
forth be trusted implicitly as an ally.
Realizing all this, and comprehend
ing also how easily Hawley would win
her confidence and overcome his
warning by denouncing him as a fugi
tive from justice charged with murder,
the temptation to return and fight it
out then and there became almost
overpowering. He had no fear of
Hawley; indeed, physical fear had
scarcely a place in his composition.
but he was not as yet sufficiently for
tified with facts for the seeking of
such an encounter. He could merely
guess at the truth, unable to produce
any proof with which to meet the
gambler’s certain denial.
A man came In through the office,
and began climbing the stairs. He
was almost at the landing before
Keith recognized him or the other
glanced up.
“Ah—seen her, I suppose?”
"Yes,” returned Keith, not thinking
it worth while to mention the lady’s
denial of having sent for him. “1 have
Just come from there.” —
“Hum—thought you’d be through by
this time—fine looking girl, ain’t she?
—believe I’ll gun in and chat with her
myself."
"I would advise you to select some
other time, Doctor,” said the younger,
drily, “as the lady has a visitor at
present.”
“A visitor?” his face rosy, his
shrewd eyes darkening. “Ah, indeed!
Of the 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 my
adieu.”
"But what brought him there? Are
they acquainted?"
“Don’t ask conundrums, Doctor. He
may be your rival with the fair lady
for all I know. If he is, my sympa
thies are all with you. Only I wouldn’t
try to see Mies Christie Just now; I’d
wait for a clearer field. Hawley is
probably not in the best of humor."
Fairbain stared into the face of the
speaker, uncertain whether or not he
was being laughed at
“Reckon you’re right,” he acknowl
edged at last. “Tired, anyhow—been
out all night—thought I’d like to see
her again, though—finest looking
woman I've met since I came West—
remarkable eyes—well. I’ll go along to
bed—see you again to-morrow, Jack.”
Keith watched the sturdy figure
stamp heavily down the hall-way,
loose boards creaking under his posi
tive tread, and smiled to himself at
the thought that he might have, in
leed, become truly interested in the
music hall singer. Somehow, the .doc
tor did not harmonize with the con
ception of love, or fit graciously into
the picture. Still, stranger matiqgs
had occurred, and Cupid does not ask
permission before he plays pranks
with hearts. Keith turned again to
ward the stairs, only to observe a
woman slowly 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 in amazement—surely, it was
Miss Maclaire! Yet how could It be?
He had left that person scarcely five
minutes before in “26,” and this stair
way was the only exit. His hand
grasped the rail, his heart throbbing
strangely, as a suspicion of the truth
crossed his brain. Could this be
Hope? Could it be that she was here
also? As her foot touched the land
ing, she saw him, her eyes lighting up
suddenly in recognition, a wave of
eolor flooding her cheeks.
“Why, Captain Keith,” she exclaim
ed, extending her gloved hand frankly,
“you have been to my room, and were
going away. I am so glad I came in
time.”
"I hardly thought to meet you,” he
replied, retaining her fingers in hie
grasp. “When did you reach Sheri
dan?”
“Only last night I had no idea you
were here until Doctor Fairbain
chanced to mention your name. Then
I at once begged him to tell you how
exceedingly anxious I was to see you.
You see, I was sure you would come
if you only knew. I really thought
you would be here this morning, and
remained in my room waiting, but
there were some things I actually had
to have. I wasn’t out ten minutes, so
you mustn’t thlij^ I sent you a mes
sage and then forgot.”
The nature of the mistake was be
coming apparent, and Keith’s gray
eyes smiled as they looked into the
depths of the brown.
“Your message had rather an amus
ing result,” he said, “as the doctor in
formed me that Miss Christie Maclaire
was the one who desired my pres
ence.”
“Miss Maclaire!” her voice exhibit
ing startled surprise. “Why—why—
oh, I did forget; I never told him»dif
ferently. Why, it was most ridicu
lous.” She laughed, white teeth
gleaming between the parted red lips,
yet not altogether happily. “Let me
explain, Captain Keith, for really I
have not been masquerading. Doctor
Fairbain and I arrived upon the same
train last evening. He is such a fun
ny man, but was very nice, and offer
ed to escort me to the hotel. I remem
ber now that although he introduced
himself, I never once thought to men
tion to him my name. The town was
very rough last night—the company
had paid off the graders I was told—
and there was no carriage, so we were
compelled to walk. I—I never saw
such a mob of drunken men. One
came reeling against me, and brushed
aside my veil so as to see my face.
The doctor struck him, and then the
marshal came up—you know him, Bill
Hickock—and the impudent fellow
actually declared he knew me, that
I was Christie Maclaire. I tried 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 by that
name?”
“Quite likely; at least Fairbain still
believes it was the Christie whom he
bo gallantly escorted last night.”
“How provoking,” her foot tapping
the floor, a little wrinkle between her
eyes. “It seems as though I couldn’t
escape that woman—does she—does
ghe really look like me?”
“At a little distance, yes," he ad
mitted, “her form and face resemble
yours very closely, but her hair la
darker, her eyes have a different ex
pression, and she bust be five or six
years older."
“Do—do you know her well?”
“No, indeed; I have seen her sever
al times on the stage, but never met
her 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 so laugh
able. Fairbain gave me your mes
sage, but as coming from Christie. I
was, of course, greatly surprised, yet
responded. The lady very promptly
denied having sent for me, but as 1
was anxious to Interview her myself,
we .managed to drift Into conversation,
and I must have passed a half hour
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 have
him discover you were in Sheridan.
Could we not go to your room? I
have much to tell you.”
Her questioning eyes left his face,
and stared down over the rail. A heav
ily 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
time I was shopping. I—I believe he
Is the same one who jostled me in the
crowd last night”
Keith leaned past her to get a bet
ter view, but the fellow turned, and
slouched away.
“I only had a glimpse, but have no
recollection of ever seeing him before.
You heard no name?”
“ 'Wild Bill’ called him either Scott
or Scotty—if this Is the same man.”
Keith’s jaw set, the fighting light
burning his' eyes. That was the
name of the fellow rooming with Wil
loughbyv. the one who seemed to be
Hawley’s special assistant. Was he
here as a spy? His hands clinched
on the rail. He was anxious to go
down and wring the truth out of him,
but instead, he compelled his eyes to
smile, turning back to the girl.
“A mere accident probably; but
about my request? May I talk with
you a few moments alone?”
She bowed, apparently still dissatis
fied regarding his lengthy conversa
tion with Christie, yet permitted him
to follow down the hall. She held
open the door of “15,” and he entered
“Was Your Call Upon Miss Maclaire
Very Interesting?”
silently, not wholly understanding the
change In her manner. She stood be
fore the dresser, drawing off her
gloves and removing her hat.
“Will you be seated, Captain; the
arm-chair by the window is the more
comfortable.” She turned toward him,
almost shyly, yet with womanly curi
osity which would not be stilled. “Was
your call upon Miss Maclaire very in
teresting? Did you admire her very
much?"
Keith’s e,’ es lifted to her face, his
ears quick to detect the undertone
in her voice.
“Interesting? yes, for 1 was seeking
after information, and met with some
success. As to the other question, I
am not sure whether I admire the lady
or not. She is bright, pretty, and
companionable, and in spite of her
profession, at heart, I believe, a good
woman. But really. Miss Hope, I was
toolleeply immersed in my purpose
to give her personality much consid
eration. Among other things we spoke
of you.”
“Of me? Why?”
“I told her something of our ad
ventures together; of how both Haw
ley and I had been confused. She was
anxious to learn who you were, but
unfortunately, I have never, even yet,
heard your name.”
“You have not?”
“No; I left you at Fort Larned be
lieving you Christie Maclaire—sup
posing it your stage name, of course
—and was confirmed in this belief by
finding in the holster of the saddle
you had been riding an envelope bear
ing 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 into a
chair facing him. “And you have
actually confused me with Christie
Maclaire 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, star
tled by the possibility—“not—not—”
“Yes,” she burst in, holding out her
hands, clasping the locket, “and this
was my father’s; where did you get
lt»”
He took the trinket from her, turn
tag it over in his fingers. Little by li*
tie the threads of mystery were be
ing unraveled, yet, even now, he could
not see very far. He looked up from
the locket Into her questioning face.
“Did I not tell you? No; then it
was an oversight. This was about the
throat of one of the. men I buried at
Cimmaron Crossing, but—but, Hope,
it was not your father.”
“I know,” her voice choking slight
ly. “Mrs. Murphy found that out;
that is why I am here. I heard my
father came to Sheridan, and I wanted
you to help me find him.”
, He was thinking and did not answer
at once, and she went on in some
alarm.
“Do you know anything about him.
Captain Keith? Where is he? Why
is he here? 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 days
ago, for Fairbain met him. They were
together in the army. I am going to
tell you all I know—it seems to be a
tangled web, hut- the ends must be
somewhere, although, I confess, I am
all at sea.”
He told it slowly and simply, bring
ing forth his earlier suspicion, and
how he had stumbled upon facts ap
parently confirming them. He related
her father’s robbery, his loss of valu
able papers, and the conversation be
tween Hawley and Scott which led to
the suspicion that these same pa
pers had fallen into the hands
of the former, and were the
basis of his plot. Hope listened,
breathless with interest, her widely
opened eyes filled with wonder. As
he concluded speaking she hurst
forth:
“But I don’t understand in the least.
Captain Keith. Why did this man
Hawley send me to the Salt Fork?”
“He thought he was dealing with
Christie Maclaire. He had some rea
son for getting her away; getting her
where he could exercise influence over
her.” •
“Yes—yes; but who is she?”
“That is what makes the matter so
hard to unravel. She doesn’t even
know herself. Hawley is going to
take advantage of her ignorance in
this respect, and convince her that
she is the person he wishes her to
represent—but who is the person? If
we knew that we might block the
game.”
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 any one ever disappeared con
nected with your family? Did you
have an older sister?”
“Fred and I were the only children.
Why should you ask that question?”
“Because something of that nature
wourd seem to be the only rational ex
planation. Your brother must have
told Hawley something—some family
secret—which he felt could be utilized
to his own advantage. Then he saw
your picture, and was immediately re
minded of the remarkable resem
blance between you and Christie
Maclaire. Evidently this discovery
fitted into his plan, and made it pos
sible for him to proceed. He has been
trying ever since to get an interview
with the woman, to sound her, and
find out what he can do with her. He
has written letters, sufficiently ex
plicit to make it clear his scheme is
based upon a will drawn, as he claims,
by Christie's grandfather. No doubt
by this time he has fully convinced
the girl that she is the rightful heireBs
to property—as he stated to Scott—
valued at over a million dollars. That’s
a stake worth fighting for, and these
two will make a hard combination.
He’s got the papers, or claims to have,
and they must be the ones stolen from
your father. I have been trusting you
might know something in your family
history which would make it all
plain.”
“But I do not,” decisively. "You
must believe me; not so much as a
hint 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; nothing
which I would not know. Perhaps, if
I could see Miss Maclaire—”
“I am convinced that would be use
less," he interrupted, rising, and pa
cing across the floor. “If Hawley has
convinced her of the justice of the
claim, he will also have pledged her
to secrecy. He is working out of sight
like a mole, for he knows the fraud,
and will never come to the surface
until everything is in readiness. 1
know a better way; I’ll find Fred, and
bring him here. He would tell you
whatever it was he told Hawley, and
that will give us the clue.”
He picked up his hat from thp table,
but she rose to her feet, holding forth
her hands.
“I cannot thank you enough. Cap
tain Keith she exclaimed frankly.
“You are 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
Waite yet.”
Her eyes met his swiftly.
“Of course, not. Such ceremony
would be foolish after all you have
done for me. Do—do you call her
Christie?”
He laughed, clasping her hands
closer.
“I assure you no—she is strictly
Miss Maclaire. and,” solemnly, "shall
be to the end of the chapter.”
1 “Oh. well, 1 didn’t care, only that
was what you called her when yon
were telling me what she said. Are
you going?”
"Yes, to find Fred; the sooner we
can get this straightened out, the bet
ter."
CHAPTER XXIV.
A Mistake in Assassination.
Let his future be what it might,
Ja&k Keith would never again forget
the girl who held the door open for
his passage with one hand, her other
clasped in his. Interested before, yet
forcing himself into indifference now
that he knew who she really was, the
man made full surrender. It was a
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.
t’T do not need to pledge you to re
turn 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. Keith
recognized none of the laces, and did
not stop to make any inquiries of the
clerk. It was growing dark, the lights
already burning, and from the plash
ing of drops on the window, it must
be raining otitside. Hawley would
surely have ended his call upon Miss
Maclaire long before this, and left the
hotel. However Interesting his com
munication might have proven, she
must fill her evening engagement at
the Trocadero, and would require time
for supper and rest. As to the result
of that interview there could be little
doubt. Providing the gambler pos
sessed the proper papers he would
have small difficulty in convincing the
girl that she was indeed the one
sought. Keith had probed sufficiently
into her mind to feel assured that her
inclination was to side with Hawley.
Under all the circumstances this was
natural enough, and he did not blame
her.
He glanced into the bar-room as he
passed, .not in any anticipation, but
merely from the vigilance which be
comes second nature upon the fron
tier. Hawley stood leaning against
the bar, where he could see any one
passing through the hall. The eyes
of the two men met, but the gambler
never moved, never changed his at
titude, although Keith noted that his
right hand was hidden beneath the
skirts of his long coat The plains
man drew back, facing his enemy, un
til he reached the outer door. There
was a sneer on Hawley’s dark sinis
ter face like an Invitation, but a mem
ory of the girl he had just left and
her dependence upon him, caused
Keith to avoid an encounter. He
would fight this affair out in a differ
ent way. As the door opened and he
slipped forth into the gloom, he brush
ed against a man apparently just en
tering. The gleam of light fell for an
instant upon the face of the other—it
was Scotty with the red moustache.
They had been watching for him
then—what for? Hawley on the in
side, add this man Scott without, were
waiting to determine when he left
the hotel; would probably dog his
footsteps to discover where he went
Keith loosened his revolver, so as to
be assured he could draw quickly, and
slipped back into the shadow of the
steps, his eyes on the door of the
hotel. There was a cold, drizzly rain
falling, the streets almost deserted,
appearing sodden and miserable
where the lights shone forth through
saloon windows. One or two men,
seeking supper, coat collars turned up
and hats drawn low over their eyes,
climbed the rickety steps ancf went in,
but’ no one came out. Perhaps he
was mistaken as to the purpose of
those fellows; they may have desired
merely to know when he left, 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 cover 'both ends of
the building, and must take his
chances* It was too wet and disagree
able to remain crouched there, now
that it was evident there was no in
tention 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 down the street He
knew where Willoughby would be
most likely found at this hour—with
cronies at the “Tenderfoot”—and he
meant to discover the boy, and make
him confess to Hope the truth. Mat
ters had now reached a point where
longer delay was dangerous.
Sheridan was seemingly dead, the
long street silent, gloomy, black, ex
cept for those streams of saloon llgnt
shining across pools of water. He
stumbled over the irregular ground,
occasionally striking patches of wood
en sidewalk or a strip of cinders. Here
and there a tent flapped in the wind,
which drove the drizzle into his face;
somewhere ahead a swinging sign
moaned as if in agony. A few wan
derers ploughed through the muck,
dim uncertain shapes appearing and
vanishing in the gloom. He had gone
a block and over, the struggle against
the elements leaving him forgetful of
all else, when a man reeled out of
some dimly lit shack to his right, and
staggered drunkenly forward a few
feet in advance. He could barely dis
tinguish the fellows’s outlines, giving
little thought to the occurrence, for
the way ‘was unusually black along
there, the saloon opposite having
shades drawn. Suddenly a flash of
red fire spurted into the night, with a
sharp report. It was so close at hand
It blinded him, and he flung up one
arm over his eyas, and yet, in that
" single instant, he perceived the whole
’ . / N v
'■ 'i* • : .. - 'S' -
picture as revealed by the red flame.
. He saw the man In front go down la
a heap, the projection of the building
from behind which,the shot came, the
end of a wagon sticking forth Into the
street which had concealed the a»
sassin. The blinding flash, the shock
of that sudden discharge, for a mo
ment held him motionless; then he
leaped forward, revolver in hand,
sprang around the end of the wagon,
and rushed down the dark alley be
tween two buildings. He could see r
nothing, but some one was running
recklessly ahead of him, and he fired
in the direction of the sound, the
leaping spurt of flame yielding a dim
outline of the fugutive. Three times
he pressed the trigger; then there
7
Keith Saw the Man Go Down in a
Heap.
was nothing to shoot at—the fellow
had faded away into the black void
of prairie. Keith stood there baffled,
staring about into the gloom, tha
smoking revolver in his hand. Tha
sound of men’s voices behind was ail
that reached him, and feeling the use
lessness of further pursuit, he re
traced his way back through the nar
row passage.
A group was gathered about the
body in the rain, a single lantern
glimmering. Two or three men had
started down the passageway, and
Keith met them, revolvers drawn and
suspicious.
"Who are you?" snapped one
sharply. “Were you doing all that
shooting yonder?”
Keith recognized the voice, thank
ful that he did so.
“I fired at the fellow, but he got
away onto the prairie. I reckon you
couldn’t have done any better. Bill.”
“Jack Keith!” and Hlckock’s voice
had a new tone, his hand dropping on
the other's shoulder. "Never waa
gladder to meet a fellow in my life.
Boys, this is an old deputy of mine
down in Dodge. When he gives up
chasin’ a murderer there isn’t much
use our tryin’. Let’s go back, and find
out how bad the fellow is hurt. While
we re feelin’ our way. Jack, you might
tell us what you know about this af- flj
fair." I
“It was just the flash of a gun, and i
the man dropped," Keith explained,
briefly. “I was ten or a dozen feet
behind, and the fellow fired from un
der 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’a
llpe were set tight, “I’m not liable to
tell you. If it’s the lad I think likely.
I’ll attend to the case myself. You
understand—this is my personal at
fair.”
Hickock nodded, his hand again
pressing the other’s shoulder.
“Sure, Jack, if you feel that way.
There’s enough doing here in Sheri
dan to keep a marshal reasonably
busy, without dippin’ into private
matters. I rather reckon you can
take care of yourself, but if you need
me, old boy, I’m always 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 the
marshal, the last man to rise saying
soberly: .
“He’s dead all right. Hickock 1
guess he never knew what hit him.
Good shootin’. too, dark as it is here.”
“Had the range fixed, likely," re
turned the marshal. “That’s what
makes it look like it was arranged
for."
He bent down, striving to distin
guish the dead man’s features turned
up to the drizzle, but the night re
vealed only the {ftin test outline.
“Anybody know him?” There waa
no response, only a shuffling of feet
in the mud. “Here, you man with the
lantern, h^ld it over where I can see.
There, that is better. Now, 'you fel
lows take a look, and see If some of
you can’t name tfie poor devil."
They glanced down, one after the
other, over Bill’s shoulder, shading
their eyes from the rain 60 as to see
clearer. The light of the flickering
lantern streamed full on the ghastly
face, but each man shook his head,
and passed on. Keitel hung back, hop
ing some one would identify the body,
and not make it necessary for him to
take part in the grewsome task. It
was not likely to be any one he knew,
and besides, he felt the man had died
in his stead, and he dreaded to look
upon the stricken face. When the last
of the group had drifted back out of
the radius of light, 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 rise
choking into his throat, and a blur