busy man today. An infant will be given a license to travel the
long and uncertain road to heaven, and a pair of happy lovers will be
made one."

"One--unhappy pair."

"It's William Duncan. He's intoxicated again," drawled Gentleman Jack,
stretching his graceful length and smiling at a long, aristocratic
figure crouched over a small table in a corner. "His last strike turned
out to be only a small pocket, and so he drowns his woes in liquor, as
usual." He bowed to his recent card partners. "Gentlemen, I am sincerely
sorry for your losses this night. I shall sleep an hour before the holy
man arrives." He sauntered out, stuffing a buckskin bag of gold dust into
his pocket.

"There lies my pocket--in his pocket," muttered Duncan. "No, Stinson"
raising his voice authoritatively, "I shall not go out. It is my
desire to pray for my sins today * * * and there has a letter come from
overseas which I must read--if I can. If I can--"

In an hour the room was cleared of smoke, greasy cards, poker chips
and empty bottles. The bar was in a small room apart. The poker table,
supplemented with a box, was covered with a handsome altar cloth flanked
by huge silver candlesticks and vases which had been carried across
the plains. Every individual in the community came to church and stayed
afterward for the christening. At least twenty men expressed a wish to
be god-father to the baby and the proud mother accepted all offers.
When the christening was over, William Duncan lurched to his feet, his
high-bred face full of tenderness, his long-fingered, fine grained hands
poised over the rosy child, while he quoted:

"May time who sheds his blight o'er all, And daily dooms some joy to
death. O'er thee let years so gently fall, They shall not crush one
flower beneath!"

"Ah, 'here comes the bride!' 'All the world's a stage!' Let us on with
the next scene," and he reeled back to his little table in the corner.

The kissing and congratulations after the wedding were interrupted by
the shouts of a man on horseback, and riding hard.

"Where's the minister? Send for Doc Miller! That beast of a Mexican
horse thief--he' shot Jim Muldoon down at Dolton's Bar. Jim caught he's
stealing his horse and I'm afraid the dirty greaser's killed him. We got
'im, though, before he skipped. Somebody go down to Rattlesnake for Doc
Miller. They're bringing 'em both here."

When Doc Miller saw Muldoon stretched on the barroom table, the same
table which a fe