ose who had sought to despoil them.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE DREGS

When the Benham private car came to a stop on the switch, Rosalind swung
up the steps and upon the platform just as J. C., ruddy, smiling and
bland, opened the door. She was in his arms in an instant, murmuring her
joy. He stroked her hair, then held her off for a good look at her, and
inquired, unctuously:

"What are you doing in town so early, my dear?"

"Oh!" She hid her face on his shoulder, reluctant to tell him. But she
knew he must be told, and so she steeled herself, stepping back and
looking at him, her heart pounding madly.

"Father; these people have discovered that Corrigan has been trying to
cheat them!"

She would have gone on, but the sickly, ghastly pallor of his face
frightened her. She swayed and leaned against the railing of the platform,
a sinking, deadly apprehension gnawing at her, for it seemed from the
expression of J. C.'s face that he had some knowledge of Corrigan's
intentions. But J. C. had been through too many crises to surrender at the
first shot in this one. Still he got a good grip on himself before he
attempted to answer, and then his voice was low and intoned with casual
surprise:

"Trying to cheat them? How, my dear?"

"By trying to take their land from them. You had no knowledge of it,
Father?"

"Who has been saying that?" he demanded, with a fairly good pretense of
righteous anger.

"Nobody. But I thought--I--Oh, thank God!"

"Well, well," he bluffed with faint reproach; "things are coming to a
pretty pass when one's own daughter is the first to suspect him of
wrong-doing."

"I didn't, Father. I was merely--I don't know what I _did_ think! There
has been so much excitement! Everything is _so_ upset! They have blown up
the mining machinery, burned the bank and the courthouse; Judge Lindman
was abducted and found; Braman was killed--choked to death; the Vigilantes
are--"

"Good God!" Benham interrupted her, staggering back against the rear of
the coach. "Who has been at the bottom of all this lawlessness?"

"Trevison."

He gasped, in spite of the fact that he had suspected what her answer
would be.

"Where is Corrigan? Where's Trevison?" He demanded, his hands shaking.
"Answer me! Where are they?"

"I don't know," the girl returned, dully. "They say Trevison is hiding in
a pueblo not far from the Bar B. And that Corrigan left here early this
morning, with a number of deputies, to try to c