ster.
"Take a slant at him, boys. Can't you read it in his face?"

There was a deep and humming murmur of approval. Then, without a word,
Mason took one of Gaspar's arms and Montana took the other. Sally Bent
ran forward at them with a cry, but the long arm of Riley Sinclair
barred her way.

"Man's work," he said coldly. "You go inside and cover your head."

She turned to them with extended hands.

"Buck, Montana, Larsen--boys, you-all ain't going to let it happen? He
_couldn't_ have done it!"

They lowered their heads and returned no answer. At that she whirled
with a sob and ran back into the house. The procession moved on, Buck
and Montana in the lead, with the prisoner between them. The others
followed, Judge Lodge uncoiling a horribly significant rope. Last of
all came Bill Sandersen, never taking his eyes from the face of Riley
Sinclair.

The latter was thoughtful, very thoughtful. He seemed to feel the eyes
of Sandersen upon him, for presently he turned to the other. "What
good's a coward to the world, Sandersen?"

"None that I could see."

"Well, look at that. Ever see anything more yaller?"

Gaspar walked between his two guards. Rather he was dragged between
them, his feet trailing weakly and aimlessly behind him, his whole body
sinking with flabby terror. The stern lip of Riley Sinclair curled.

"He's going to let it go through," said Sandersen to himself. "After
all nobody can blame him. He couldn't put his own neck in the noose."

Over the lowest limb of a great cottonwood Judge Lodge accurately flung
the rope, so that the noose dangled a significant distance from the
ground. There was a businesslike stir among the others. Denver, Larsen,
the judge, and Sandersen held the free end of the rope. Buck Mason tied
the hands of the prisoner behind him. Montana spoke calmly through his
mask.

"Jig, you sure done a rotten bad thing. You hadn't ought to of killed
him, Jig. These here killings has got to stop. We ain't hanging you for
spite, but to make an example."

Then with a dexterous hand he fitted the noose around the neck of the
schoolteacher. As the rough rope grated against Gaspar's throat, he
shrieked and jerked against the rope end that bound his hands. Then, as
if he realized that struggling would not help him, and that only speech
could give him a chance for life, he checked the cry of horror and
looked around him. His glances fell on the grim masks, and it was only
natural that he should