ad."

He turned slowly toward Galloway who, with steady hands and his face
set in hard, inscrutable lines, was pouring himself a generous glass of
whiskey.

"Looks like you'd got him, Jim," he said harshly, his eyes glittering.
"And it looks like I'd got you. Where I want you, by God!"

Galloway drank his whiskey and made no reply. He was thinking,
thinking fast. His eyes were never still now, but roved from Rod
Norton's white face to the faces of Tom Cutter, Struve, and the other
men gathering in the room.

Borne upon one of the Casa Blanca's doors Norton was carried to
Struve's hotel, the nearest place where an attempt could be made to
care for him. Word came in that Virginia Page had been summoned upon
one of her rare calls and was in Las Estrellas. Patten, however, would
be on hand in a moment. It was suggested that Kid Rickard also be
carried to the hotel. But he himself asked to be left where he was
until Patten came, and Cutter raised no objection. It was clear that
the Kid was too badly hurt to think of making an escape, were such his
desire.

Galloway and Antone alone were put under arrest, the others merely
advised to be on hand if they were wanted later. Galloway coolly
demanded the charge against him.

"Resisting an officer is as good as any right now," snapped Cutter.

As quiet claimed the town again Caleb Patten became the most important
figure in San Juan. At such moments he seemed to swell visibly. He
drove the curious from the room while he examined the unconscious
sheriff and, when he had finished, merely shook his head, looked grave,
and refused to commit himself. He ordered Norton undressed and put to
bed, went down the street to see Kid Rickard, probed the wound in the
upper chest, ordered him to bed, and returned to Norton at the hotel.

"Well?" asked John Engle who had arrived, talked with Struve, and now
looked anxiously to Patten. Patten shrugged.

"Heavy-caliber bullet ripped along the side of his head," he said
thoughtfully. "I am going to make a second examination now. Doubtless
just the shock stunned him. That or striking his head as he pitched
forward; there's another slight wound, a scalp wound, showing where his
head hit as he fell."

A moment later Tom Cutter came in hastily, stood for a little staring
with frowning, troubled eyes at the quiet form on the bed, and went
away, tugging at his lip, his frown deepening. He had his hands full
to-night, had Tom Cut