be sold to the highest bidder. Below this
announcement, in small, neat print, was quoted the Law.

Dry Bottom gasped. The saloons swarmed. In the Fashion two bartenders
and the proprietor labored heroically to supply their customers with the
liquid stimulant which would nerve them to look upon Ben Allen's posters
with a certain degree of equanimity. The reckless element--the gun-men
who in a former day were wont to swagger forth with reckless disregard
for the polite conventions--skulked in the background, sneering at this
thing which had come to rob them of their power and which, they felt,
presaged their ultimate downfall.

But Dry Bottom ignored the gun-men, or smiled blandly at them, giving
its attention to Ben Allen's posters and discussing a rumor which had
gained rapid credence, to the effect that the new governor had
telegraphed Allen that he would hold a detail of United States soldiers
in readiness for any contingency.

The good citizens smiled. And throughout the day many of them passed and
repassed the _Kicker_ office, anxious to get a glimpse of the man
who had been instrumental in bringing about this innovation.

Shortly after noon on the same day Dunlavey rode into Dry Bottom,
dismounted, hitched his pony to the rail in front of the Fashion, and
entered.

In former days Dunlavey's appearance within the doors of the Fashion was
the signal for boisterous greetings. For here might always be found the
law's chief advocates. To-day, however, there were no greetings. Minds
were filled with vague and picturesque conjecture concerning Dunlavey's
probable actions and the outcome of this strange affair. Thus upon
Dunlavey's entrance a silence--strange and awkward--fell in the
bar-room. There were short nods and men fell away from Dunlavey as he
crossed the room and came to a halt before one of Ben Allen's posters.
He read every line of it--every word. No man interrupted him. Then,
finishing his reading, he turned and faced the crowd, his face white
with wrath, his lips snarling.

"Why in hell didn't some of you damned fools tear this down?" he
demanded.

No man felt it incumbent upon him to reply to this and Dunlavey watched
them for an instant, sneering, his eyes glittering menacingly. Then he
suddenly turned, seized the poster, savagely tore it into pieces, hurled
the pieces to the floor, and stamped upon them. Then he turned again to
the silent crowd, his face inflamed, his voice snapping with a bitter,