, for Vigon was a powerful man, and to this was added a madman's
energy. He felt that the end was coming. But all at once, through the
groans of the victim in the chair, Terry became conscious of noises
outside--such noises as he had heard before he entered the house, only
nearer and louder. At the same time he heard a horse's hoofs, then a knock
at the door, and a voice calling, "Jopp! Jopp!"

He made a last desperate struggle, and shouted hoarsely.

An instant later there were footsteps in the room, followed by a cry of
fright and amazement.

It was Gow Johnson. He had come to warn Constantine Jopp that a crowd were
come to tar and feather him, and to get him away on his own horse.

Now he sprang to the front door, called to the approaching crowd for help,
then ran back to help O'Ryan. A moment later a dozen men had Vigon secure,
and had released Constantine Jopp, now almost dead from loss of blood.

As they took the gag from his mouth and tied their handkerchiefs round his
bleeding wrists, Jopp sobbed aloud. His eyes were fixed on Terry O'Ryan.
Terry met the look, and grasped the limp hand lying on the chair-arm.

"I'm sorry, O'Ryan, I'm sorry for all I've done to you," Jopp sobbed. "I
was a sneak, but I want to own it. I want to be square now. You can tar
and feather me, if you like. I deserve it." He looked at the others. "I
deserve it," he repeated.

"That's what the boys had thought would be appropriate," said Gow Johnson,
with a dry chuckle, and the crowd looked at one another and winked. The
wink was kindly, however. "To own up and take your gruel!" was the easiest
way to touch the men of the prairie.

A half-hour later the roisterers, who had meant to carry Constantine Jopp
on a rail, carried Terry O'Ryan on their shoulders through the town,
against his will. As they passed the house where Miss Mackinder lived,
some one shouted:

"Are you watching the rise of Orion?"

Many a time thereafter Terry O'Ryan and Molly Mackinder looked at the
galaxy in the evening sky with laughter and with pride. It had played its
part with Fate against Constantine Jopp and the little widow at Jansen. It
had never shone so brightly as on the night when Vigon struck oil on
O'Ryan's ranch. But Vigon had no memory of that. Such is the irony of
life.

THE ERROR OF THE DAY

The "Error of the Day" may be defined as the "The difference between
the distance or range which must be put upon the sights in order to