aled
from the rostrum, while the swaying forms some way made the rounds
according to the caller's viewpoint of an old-time dance, Anita
Richmond evidently "thought about it." When the next dance came, they
went again on the floor together, Robert Fairchild and the brown-eyed
girl whom he suddenly realized he loved, without reasoning the past or
the future, without caring whom she might be or what her plans might
contain; a man out of prison lives by impulse, and Fairchild was but
lately released.

A third dance and a fourth, while in the intervals Fairchild's eyes
sought out the sulky, sullen form of Maurice Rodaine, flattened against
the wall, eyes evil, mouth a straight line, and the blackness of hate
discoloring his face. It was as so much wine to Fairchild; he felt
himself really young for the first time in his life. And as the music
started again, he once more turned to his companion.

Only, however, to halt and whirl and stare in surprise. There had come
a shout from the doorway, booming, commanding:

"'Ands up, everybody! And quick about it!"

Some one laughed and jabbed his hands into the air. Another, quickly
sensing a staged surprise, followed the example. It was just the
finishing touch necessary,--the old-time hold-up of the old-time dance.
The "bandit" strode forward.

"Out from be'ind that bar! Drop that gun!" he commanded of the
white-aproned attendant. "Out from that roulette wheel. Everybody
line up! Quick--and there ain't no time for foolin'."

Chattering and laughing, they obeyed, the sheriff, his star gleaming,
standing out in front of them all, shivering in mock fright, his hands
higher than any one's. The bandit, both revolvers leveled, stepped
forward a foot or so, and again ordered speed. Fairchild, standing
with his hands in the air, looked down toward Anita, standing beside
him.

"Is n't it exciting," she exclaimed. "Just like a regular hold-up! I
wonder who the bandit is. He certainly looks the part, does n't he?"

And Fairchild agreed that he did. A bandanna handkerchief was wrapped
about his head, concealing his hair and ears. A mask was over his
eyes, supplemented by another bandanna, which, beginning at the bridge
of his nose, flowed over his chin, cutting off all possible chance of
recognition. Only a second more he waited, then with a wave of the
guns, shouted his command:

"All right, everybody! I'm a decent fellow. Don't want much, but I
want it quick!