man--a thing I've never
done with any mouthpiece of the law before. I'm trying to show you
how you an' your kind can make a man an outlaw an' keep him one till
somebody shoots him down. I'm sore, Brown, because I know that one of
these days I'm going to get it myself!"

The justice saw that the man was in deadly earnest. He saw the hand
resting on the table tighten its grip upon the gun.

"I didn't know all these things," he said hastily. "I had to judge by
what I heard--and read. Why didn't you make all this known to the
Arizona authorities?"

Rathburn laughed harshly. "Because I'd be framed clear across the
board," he said jeeringly. "It's the law! It's as much of a crime to
rob a thieving gambler or a snake of a whisky runner or peddler as it
is to rob a home! I've had to rob to live! An' all the while there's
been the makings of one of the hardest-lookin' bad men that this
Southwest country ever saw in me. And, now that I think of it, why the
devil I've held off I don't know!"

Brown was moved by the sincerity of the man. He saw in Rathburn's eyes
that he was speaking the gospel truth. He saw something else in those
eyes--the yearning of a homeless, friendless man, stamped with the
stigma of outlawry, rebelling against the forces which were against
him, relentlessly hunting him down.

"You say you came here to start over?" he asked curiously. "How do I
know you won't walk right out of this office and turn a trick right
here in this very town?"

"You don't know it, that's the devil of it!" exclaimed Rathburn. "An'
there's no use in my telling you I won't, for you wouldn't take my
word for it. You've got me pegged for a gun-fightin' bandit of first
water an' clear crystal, an' I won't try to wise you up because it
wouldn't do any good. Now that you know I'm in this country, you'll
blame the first wrong thing that happens on to me. I've got no
business here talking to you. I'm wasting my breath. You'll have to
find out from somebody besides me that I was telling you the truth,
an' I reckon that coincidence ain't in the pictures. Where's your
handcuffs?"

The justice stared at him, startled.

"Where's your handcuffs?" insisted Rathburn angrily.

"In the drawer of my desk out in front," replied Brown.

"Go an' get 'em an' bring 'em here," Rathburn commanded. "I'll keep my
drop on you under cover."

Brown rose and went to his desk in the front room while Rathburn
watched him in the doorway with his gun held