vate and in the public press--over an assumed name, however. It
wouldn't be healthy for any man to do it openly. The man is a
liar--but I don't care about myself. It is a little difference of
opinion among men, but some miscreant has reflected upon the good name
of my wife. Now let me say that the man that says my wife is not a
lady and a woman of the highest character, insults the mother of my
children and will answer to me for every word he utters."

A little thrill of interest and awe ran through the crowd. The man's
voice meant battle, and battle to the hilt of the bowie. It was so
easy to prove a mark for desperate men, but there was no fear in the
attitude of the speaker. He had come up through a wild life, and knew
his audience, his accuser and himself.

His voice took a sudden change--it grew tender and reverent. "I am
here to preach the gospel of Christ and Him crucified. I may not do it
in the best way always, but I do it as well as I know how." Here his
tone grew severely earnest and savage again, as he added: "But I shall
defend the honor of my wife with my life."

His voice and pose were magnificent--lion-like.

His manner changed again with dramatic suddenness. He took the whole
street into his confidence.

"I love my wife, gentlemen. She has borne three children to me. She is
a good woman. A mighty sight smarter and better than I am, but she
can't defend herself against sneaks and reptilious liars. I can.
That's part of my business. I tell you, boys," he added in a low voice
very sincere and winning, "they ain't no man good enough to marry a
good woman; it's just her good, pure, kind heart gives him any show at
all."

A sudden lump rose in Clement's throat. The man's deep humility and
loyalty and apparent sincerity had gone straight to his own heart and
touched him in a very sensitive place. He turned away and sought the
deeper shadow with his head bowed in black despair.

He thought of the eyes of his bride with a shudder almost of fear.
Could he ever face her again?

"Oh, God! How pure and dainty and unspotted she is, and I--I am
unclean."

He saw as clearly as if a light had been turned in upon his secret
thought, that the ownership of "The Witch" was in question. He had not
been candid with her--he had been dishonest. He had not dared to let
her know how he had secured control of that stock.

All the way back to the Springs he wrestled with himself about it. He
ended by reasserting the ju