continued. It was
Ray Dolliber, one of the more reckless spirits.

Rankin grunted in a non-committal manner.

"Say, Rank, would you lend a hand?"

"I guess not," Rankin replied slowly, as if deliberating the question.

"Why not?"

"I never did believe in lynching."

"What's the matter with lynching?"

"'T ain't fair play. Masked men, and a lot of 'em, onto one feller."

Dolliber waxed sarcastic.

"P'raps you think it's fair play for a great brute of a man to bully a
woman and six children."

"P'raps I do," said Rankin, still deliberating, "but I guess 't ain't
likely."

Another man came out of the court-house, leaving the door open behind
him. They could see Rumpety pulling on a thick overcoat and winding his
ears and throat in a heavy muffler. "Come along," he swaggered, with a
flourish of the arms; and woman and children, unencumbered by other
wraps than those they had worn all day, followed abjectly and made their
way after him to the shed where the team was tied.

"I say, Dolliber, did they say it was fourteen miles to their ranch?"

"Yes."

"South, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"They'll have the wind in their faces."

"You bet!"

A few minutes later the Rumpety wagon went creaking and groaning past
the court-house.

Ed Rankin stepped inside and got his leather jacket and woollen muffler.
He met the jury straggling out with the crestfallen air of men conscious
of an inglorious performance. The judge and the district attorney stood
just within the door, waiting for the ranch-wagon.

"They say," said the district attorney, "that Rumpety never does a
stroke of work."

"Saves up his strength for bullying his family," the judge rejoined. "He
takes good care of himself. Did you see how warmly he was dressed?"

"Yes, curse him!"

"It would be a mercy if the others were to freeze to death on the way
home."

"Seems likely enough, too; but it would be rather hard on the three
little brats waiting at the ranch for their mother."

Rankin, meanwhile, had got himself equipped for his long ride.

There was to be a dance in the court-house that evening, and some men
were sweeping the sawdust into a corner and setting the benches against
the wall.

"Ain't you goin' to stay for the dance, Ed?" one of them asked. "The
girls are all coming."

Rankin felt himself blush ignominiously.

"No," he growled. "I've got some work to do to-night."

"What, at the ranch?"

Rankin paused to take account with his