w minutes before had served as an altar he shook his
head.

"He will be gone in half an hour," he said. The men standing about began
taking off their hats.

"I wish to write home," whispered Muldoon. The young mother handed
her baby to its father and seizing pencil and paper, ran forward. The
minister opened his prayer book at the service for the dying.

When that service had been read, and what had been Muldoon carried away
to be made ready for the last sleep, only the minister and the tall
Englishman were left in the bar-room.

"In the midst of life we are in death," muttered Duncan.

"True," rebuked the other "so live well the life which the Lord, thy
God, hath provided thee." Will Duncan laughed aloud.

"It is too late, Man-o'-God! There is no place in the world for a
younger son." The minister had not heard. He sprang toward the open
window, calling:

"Wait! It is written--'Thou shalt not kill!' Bring him in, like just and
honest men, for a hearing. He may be a horse thief and a murderer but
you shall take the rope from his neck and he shall speak in his own
defense before he goes to his Maker."

So a hearing was given (although grudgingly, and with audible grumbling)
by the friends of Muldoon across the table which had so lately been
his bier, but in the end they took the Mexican out for the short-cut to
retribution.

Two hours later, around the same table was solemnized the funeral
service of Jim Muldoon. The minister would not return for six weeks.
It must be held at once. Gentleman Jack gave a suit of finest black
broadcloth for a shroud, and the little bride, keeping one flower from
her wedding bouquet, placed the rest in the dead man's hands. She kissed
him softly on his forehead, whispering through her tears. "For the ones
at home who loved you," and stood watching as six men carried him away
to the tiny cemetery under the trees on a hill.

Vesper services were over and the weary minister and his congregation
had gone before Duncan found courage to open and read his letter. His
elder brother, heir to the title and great houses and landed estates of
his family, had been killed in the hunting field and he, being next in
line, was to come home to succeed to the position.

He, William--Duncan--Claibourne--Earl of--but no, his family name had
never been told in California.

Portions of the services he had heard that day drifted through his mind:
"Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a