somebody. "It's Number
One. He rode up on a horse just in the nick of the second and saved his
claim."

"Number One!" said she. "A horse!"

"Sure, ma'am," said her informant, looking at her queerly. "Here he
comes now."

Dr. Slavens passed within a few feet of her, leading his horse toward
the livery stable. If it had not been that the wind was blowing sharply,
turning back the flapping brim of his old hat, she would have repudiated
him as an impostor. But there was no mistaking him, in spite of the
strange clothing which he wore, in spite of the bloody bandage about his
head.

And at the sight of that bandage her heart felt a strange exultation, a
stirring leap of joy, even stronger than her pity and her pain. For it
was his vindication; it was the badge of his honor; it was his
credentials which put him back in the right place in her life.

He had come by it in no drunken squabble, she knew; and he had arisen
from the sickness of it to mount horse and ride--desperately, as his
condition told--to claim his own. Through the leagues of desert he had
come, through the unfriendly night, with what dim hope in his breast no
man might know. Now, sparing the horse that had borne him to his
triumph, he marched past her, his head up, like one who had conquered,
even though he limped in the soreness of bruised body.

People standing near wondered to see the tall, pale woman put out her
hands with more than a mother's pity in her eyes, and open her lips,
murmuring a name beneath her breath.

The Bentleys, who had seen Dr. Slavens arrive, had not been able to
force their way to him through the crowd. Now, with scores of others,
they followed him, to have a word with him after he had stabled his
horse. As they passed Agnes, William made his way to her.

"He arrived in time!" he cried triumphantly, the sparkle of gladness in
his honest eyes. "He has justified your faith, and your trust, and
your----"

She put out both her hands, tears in her eyes, as he halted there,
leaving unsaid what there was no need to say.

"I'll tell him where to find you," said he, passing on.

In her room at the hotel Agnes sat down to wait. Peace had come into her
soul again; its fevered alarms were quiet. Expectancy trembled in her
bosom, where no fear foreshadowed what remained for him to say. Her
confidence was so complete in him, now that he had come, that she would
have been satisfied, so she believed at that hour, if he had said:

"I