er; the rest fell apart as she came around the corner of the cabin
and, through the space given, rode slowly, her skirt almost brushing
Rome, looking neither to the right nor to the left; and when she had
gone quite through them all, she wheeled and rode, still slowly, through
the open fields toward the woods which sheltered the Lewallens, while
the crowd stood in bewildered silence looking after her. Yells of
laughter came from the old court-house. Some of the Stetsons laughed,
too; some swore, a few grumbled; but there was not one who was not
stirred by the superb daring of the girl, though she had used it only to
show her contempt.

"Rome, you're a fool; though, fer a fac', we can't shoot a woman; 'n'
anyways I ruther shoot her than the hoss. But lemme tell ye, thar was
more'n sump'n to eat in that bag! They air up to some dodge."

Rufe Stetson had watched the incident through a port-hole of the cabin,
and his tone was at once jesting and anxious.

"That grub won't last more'n one day, I reckon," said the drunken
mountaineer. "We'll watch out fer the gal nex' time. We're boun' to git
'em one time or t'other."

"She rid through us to find out how many of us wasn't dead drunk," said
Steve Marcum, still watching the girl as she rode on, toward the woods;
"'n' I'm a-thinkin' they'll be down on us purty soon now, 'n' I reckon
we'll have to run fer it. Look thar boys!"

The girl had stopped at the edge of the woods; facing the town, she
waved her bonnet high above her head.

"Well, whut in the--!" he said, with slow emphasis, and then he leaped
from the door with a yell. The bonnet was a signal to the beleaguered
Lewallens. The rear door of the courthouse had been quietly opened, and
the prisoners were out in a body and scrambling over the fence before
the pickets could give an alarm. The sudden yells, the crack of
Winchesters, startled even the revellers and all who could, headed by
Rome and Steve Marcum, sprang into the square, and started in pursuit.
But the Lewallens had got far ahead, and were running in zigzag lines to
dodge the balls flying after them. Half-way to the woods was a gully
of red clay, and into this the fleetest leaped, and turned instantly to
cover their comrades. The Winchesters began to rattle from the woods,
and the bullets came like rain from everywhere.

"T-h-up! T-h-up! T-h-up!" there were three of them--the peculiar soft,
dull messages of hot lead to living flesh. A Stetson went down; ano