of the crowd, when down from the
mesa rushed old Suma-theek's bucks. They swept the mob aside like flying
sand and closed about the little group against the wall. They were a
very splendid picture in the arc light, these forty young bucks with
their flying hair and plunging ponies. The moment must have been one of
unmixed joy to them as the whites gave back, leaving them the street
width.

Jack Henderson rushed up in Jim's automobile just as the street cleared.
Jim hurried to the machine. "Jack, did you see Mrs. Saradokis?"

"Took her home in the machine. Had to argue with her to make her go.
That's why I'm late. Just got back from delivering the committee."

The color came back under Jim's tan. "Get up to the wall there, Jack,
with the machine and put the two hombres into the tonneau with two
Indians and Suma-theek in front. The mounted Indians will act as your
guard for a few miles out. Hit the high places to Cabillo. I guess you'd
better keep the guard all the way. I wouldn't like you to meet a posse
without one."

Jack nodded and began to work his way among the ponies. In a moment's
time the touring car, with the cowering human bundles in the tonneau,
had crossed the river. The crowd disappeared rather precipitately into
the tents, no one courting conversation with Jim. He walked quietly up
the road home.

Early the next morning, Billy Underwood brought Murphy up to Jim's
house.

"Sorry my posse didn't get there in time to help you out, Boss," said
Bill regretfully. "We didn't hear of it till it was all over."

Jim nodded. "Keep up your quarantine for a while, Bill. We won't risk
booze for several days. Now, Murphy, who backed you in the saloon
business?"

"Fleckenstein's crowd."

"How long have you known Mr. Saradokis?"

"Met him for the first time last night," replied the ex-saloonkeeper.

Jim eyed the man skeptically and Murphy spoke with sudden heat. "That's
on the level. I heard he was backing Fleckenstein and so I thought he'd
help me get back at you. But he cursed me as I'll stand from no man
because Underwood made a monkey of me by lugging me up there before you.
No wonder his wife left the tent before he began, if that's his usual
style. I'll get even with that dirty Greek."

Bill nodded. "Boss, that friend of yours has a vocabulary that'd turn a
mule into a race horse."

"Murphy," said Jim, "you are Irish. My stepfather is an Irishman. He is
the whitest gentleman that ever lived. It's hard