to pay
the penalty for breaking the laws. Why, surely the guilty conscience
of Brother Lu must discover a description of himself in every word
that the imaginary marshal uttered.

The two boys finished at about the same time. Their eyes met in a
stare, and Thad gave utterance to a whistle.

"Whew! Jim is sure a dandy when it comes to write-ups, isn't he,
though, Hugh?" he breathed softly, for the proprietor of the "Emporium"
happened to be bustling about the place, and was evidently a bit
curious to know just what there could be in that week's edition of
the _Courier_ to so plainly interest Hugh and his chum.

"He certainly is," admitted Hugh. "Why, you can almost see that
Marshal Hastings walking before you, and looking as if he had his
eagle eye fixed on you for keeps. Jim's described him so smartly
that it would apply to almost any Western sheriff or marshal we've
ever seen in the movies."

"But just think how the cold creeps will chase up and down the spinal
column of that miserable sneak of a hobo when he glimpses this article,"
chuckled Thad. "I can imagine him starting, and his eyes nearly
popping out of his head as he gets busy devouring the whole thing. And,
then, Hugh, what d'ye reckon his next move will be?" Hugh shrugged
his shoulders as he slowly replied:

"Honestly now, Thad, I give it up. If he's really guilty, as we
believe, why, of course, he'll not wait on the order of his going,
but skip out like a prairie fire, and we'll be shut of him. But
there's always the doubt. In fact, we never can be sure we've struck
the right nail on the head until we see Lu hitting the high places,
and never even looking back."

"I must read that wonderful article again," quoth the admiring Thad.
"It's simply great the way Jim's written it up, and I'm sure that chap
is bound to occupy an exalted place in newspaperdom down in New York
one of these days when luck comes to him, and he emigrates that way."

They scanned it line by line until they could almost repeat the
whole story by heart, it made such a great impression on them. Thad
seemed more than amused over the idea that the good folks from
Scranton would swallow it whole, and believe there was really a
Texan marshal in their midst, looking right and left for a desperate
character who had dropped down in that quiet and respectable
neighborhood, thinking he would be safe from molestation there.

"Why, Hugh," he went on to say, exuberantly, "all toda