. Whisky had been his solace, his
sweetheart. It changed him, raised and beatified him into the
likeness of other men, and now, as he pondered, he was aware of a
consuming thirst engendered by the heat of his earlier emotions.
Undoubtedly it must be quenched.

He rose and stole quietly out into the big front room. Perhaps the
years of free life in the open had bred a suspicion of walls, perhaps
he felt his conduct would not brook discovery, perhaps habit,
prompted him to take the two heavy Colts from their holsters and
thrust them inside his trousers band.

He slipped across the room, silent and cavern-like, its blackness
broken by the window squares of starry sky, till he felt the paucity
of glassware behind the bar.

"Here's to Her," It burned delightfully.

"Here's to the groom." It tingled more alluringly.

"I'll drink what I can, and get back to the bunk before it works," he
thought, and the darkness veiled the measure of his potations.

He started at a noise on the stairway. His senses not yet dulled,
detected a stealthy tread. Not the careless step of a man unafraid,
but the cautious rustle and halt of a marauder. Every nerve bristled
to keenest alertness as the faint occasional sounds approached,
passed the open end of the bar where he crouched, leading on to the
window. Then a match flared, and the darkness rushed out as a candle
wick sputtered.

Shorty stretched on tiptoe, brought his eye to the level of the bar,
and gazed upon the horrent head of Bailey. He sighed thankfully, but
watched with interest his strange behaviour.

Bailey moved the light across the window from left to right three
times, paused, then wigwagged some code out into the night.

"He's signalling," mused Shorty. "Hope he gets through quick. I'm
getting full." The fumes of the liquor were beating at his senses,
and he knew that soon he would move with difficulty.

The man, however, showed no intention of leaving, for, his signals
completed, he blew out the light, first listening for any sound from
above, then his figure loomed black and immobile against the dim
starlight of the window.

"Oh, Lord! I got to set down," and the watcher squatted upon the
floor, bracing against the wall. His dulling perceptions were
sufficiently acute to detect shuffling footsteps on the porch and the
cautious unbarring of the door.

"Gettin' late for visitors," he thought, as he entered a blissful
doze. "When they're abed, I'll t