he words, which were written in lead-pencil.
Fred Whitney, therefore, struck a match and held it in front of the
paper, while the recipient read in a low voice, loud enough, however,
to be heard in the impressive hush:

"MONT STERRY: If you stay in the Powder River country twenty-four
hours longer you are a dead man. Over fifty of us rustlers have
sworn to shoot you on sight, whether it is at Fort McKinley,
Buffalo, or on the streets of Cheyenne. I have persuaded the
majority to hold off for the time named, but not one of them will
do so an hour longer, nor will I ask them to do so. We are bound
to make an honest living, and it is weak for me to give you this
warning, but I do it, repeating that if you are within reach
twenty-four hours from the night on which this is handed to
Whitney I will join them in hunting you down, wherever you may be.

"LARCH CADMUS."

CHAPTER VIII.

GOOD-BYE.

Monteith Sterry read the "warning" through in a voice without the
slightest tremor. Then he quietly smoked his cigar and looked off in
the moonlight, as though thinking of something of a different nature.

It was natural that Jennie Whitney should be more impressed by the
occurrence, with the memory of the recent tragedy crushing her to the
earth. She exclaimed:

"Larch Cadmus! Why, Fred, he has visited our house several times; he
was here last week."

"Yes," replied her brother; "he has often sat at our table; and, by
the way, he is a great admirer of yours."

"Nonsense!" was the response; "why do you say that?"

"It may be nonsense, but it is true, nevertheless. Your mother noticed
it; and, that there might be no mistake, Larch had the impudence to
tell me so himself."

"I never liked him; he is a bad man," said Jennie, much to the relief
of Sterry, who felt a little uncomfortable. "I did not know he
belonged to the rustlers."

"He was a cowboy until last fall. He had a quarrel with Col. Ringgold
and went off with the others, and has been on the blacklist ever
since."

"Why didn't he bring the message himself," continued the sister,
"instead of sending it?"

"He did," was the significant reply of the brother.

"What! That surely was not he?"

"It was. I knew his voice the moment he spoke; those whiskers were
false; he didn't want to be recognized, and I thought it as well to
humor his fancy, but I could not be mistaken."

"Now that I recall it, his voice _did_