p for a few years would help to that end. Even five years
would leave him right in the middle stretch of life, with all his vigor
and all the benefit of experience. Sheep looked like the solution
indeed. So _thinking_, he blew out his candle and went out to look for
Walker.

At the door of the tent he stopped, thinking again of Agnes, and of the
moonlight on her face as they stood by the riverside, trembling again
when the weight of the temptation which had assailed him in that moment
swept over him in a heart-lifting memory. Perhaps Agnes condemned him
for refusing the opportunity of her lips. For when a woman expects to be
kissed, and is cheated in that expectation, it leaves her in censorious
mood. But scorn of an hour would be easier borne than regret of years.

So he reflected, and shook his head solemnly at the thought. He passed
into the shadows along the deserted street, going toward the sounds
which rose from beneath the lights beyond.

Comanche appeared livelier than ever as he passed along its thronged
streets. Those who were to leave as soon as they could get a train were
making a last reckless night of it; the gamblers were busy at their
various games.

The doctor passed the tent where Hun Shanklin had been stationed with
his crescent table. Shanklin was gone, and another was in his place with
an army-game board, or chuck-a-luck, doing well with the minnows in the
receding sea. Wondering what had become of Shanklin, he turned to go
down a dark little street which was a quick cut to the back entrance of
the big gambling-tent, where he expected to find Walker and go into the
matter of sheep.

Even at that moment the lights were bright in the office of _The
Chieftain_. The editor was there, his green coat wide open, exposing his
egg-spattered shirt-front to all who stopped to look, and making a
prodigious show of excitement at the imposing-stone, where the form of
the last extra of the day lay under his nervous hand.

The printer was there also, his hair standing straight where he had
roached it back out of his eyes with inky fingers, setting type for all
he was worth. In a little while those on the street heard the familiar
bark of the little gasoline engine, and hundreds of them gathered to
inquire into the cause of this late activity.

"Running off an extra," said Editor Mong. A great, an important piece of
news had just reached the office of _The Chieftain_, and in a few
minutes an extra would be o