of her emotion, nor the wistful look in her
eyes. It was plain that she yearned for someone who would teach her the
ways of the outside world; and when the man looked at the Girl with the
lamp-light softening her features, he felt her sincerity and was pleased
by her confidence.

"Now, I take it," continued the Girl with a vague, dreamy look on her
face, "that's what we're all put on this earth for--everyone of us--is
to rise ourselves up in the world--to reach out."

"That's true, that's true," returned Johnson with gentle and perfect
sympathy. "I venture to say that there isn't a man who hasn't thought
seriously about that. I have. If only one knew how to reach out for
something one hardly dares even hope for. Why, it's like trying to catch
the star shining just ahead."

The Girl could not restrain her enthusiasm.

"That's the cheese! You've struck it!"

At this juncture Nick appeared and refused to be ordered away. At
length, the Girl inquired somewhat impatiently:

"Well, what is it, Nick?"

"I've been tryin' to say," announced the barkeeper, whose face wore an
expression of uneasiness as he pointed to the window, "that I have seen
an ugly-lookin' greaser hanging around outside."

"A greaser!" exclaimed the Girl, uneasily. "Let me look." And with that
she made a movement towards the window, but was held back by Johnson's
detaining hand. All too well did he know that the Mexican was one of his
men waiting impatiently for the signal. So, with an air of concern, for
he did not intend that the Girl should run any risk, however remote, he
said authoritatively:

"Don't go!"

"Why not?" demanded the Girl.

Johnson sat strangely silent.

"I'll bolt the windows!" cried Nick. Hardly had he disappeared into the
dance-hall when a low whistle came to their ears.

"The signal--they're waiting," said Johnson under his breath, and shot a
quick look of inquiry at the Girl to see whether she had heard the
sound. A look told him that she had, and was uneasy over it.

"Don't that sound horrid?" said the Girl, reaching the bar in a state of
perturbation. "Say, I'm awful glad you're here. Nick's so nervous. He
knows what a lot o' money I got. Why, there's a little fortune in that
keg."

Johnson started; then rising slowly he went over to the keg and examined
it with interest.

"In there?" he asked, with difficulty concealing his excitement.

"Yes; the boys sleep around it nights," she went on to confide.

Johnson