he looked upon that magnificent
torso mangled by buckshot. He loved his big partner--Haney was indeed
his highest enthusiasm, his chief object of adoration, and to see him
riddled in this way was devil's work. He lost hope. "It's all over with
Mart Haney," he said, chokingly, a few minutes later to the men crowding
the bar-room--and then his rage against the assassin broke forth. He
became the tiger seeking the blood of him who had slain his mate. His
curses rose to primitive ferocity. "Where is he?" he asked.

To him stepped a man--one whose voice was quiet but intense. "We've
attended to his case, Williams. He's toeing the moonlight from a
lamp-post. Want to see?"

For an instant his rage flared out against these officious friends who
had cheated him of his share in the swift delight of the avenger. Then
tears again misted his eyes, and with a dignity and pathos which had
never graced his speech before he pronounced a slow eulogy upon his
friend: "No man had a right to accuse Mart Haney of any trick. He took
his chances, fair and square. He had no play with crooked cards or
'doctored' wheels. It was all 'above board' with him. He was dead game
and a sport, you all know that, and now to be ripped to bits with
buckshot--just when he was takin' a wife--is hellish."

His voice faltered, and in the dead silence which followed this
revelation of Haney's secret he turned and re-entered the inner room, to
watch beside his friend.

The hush which lay over the men at the bar lasted till the barkeeper
softly muttered: "Boys, that's news to me. It does make it just too
tough." Then those who had hitherto opposed the lynching of the murderer
changed their minds and directed new malediction against him, and those
who had handled the rope took keener comfort and greater honor to
themselves.

"Who is the woman?" asked one of those who waited.

This question remained unanswered till the messenger to the telegraph
office returned. Even then little beyond her name was revealed, but each
of the watchers began to pray that she might reach the dying man before
his eyes should close forever. "He can't live till sunrise," said one,
"and there is no train from the Junction till morning. She can't get
here without a special. Did you order a special for her?"

"No, I didn't think of it," the messenger replied, with a sense of
shortcoming.

"It must be done!"

"I'll attend to that," said Slater. "I know the superintendent. I'll
wire