he'll think
it's great. She'll think she's the lost heiress that was carried off
in the mountains--the one I told her about."

"I tell you I will not hear a word of it. She may be ill or something;
it would scare her to death."

"I'll ask her if she's ill before I let the boys rob the buck-board.
What dye say, mother? Just this once."

His boyish joy in the prank brought laughter to her eyes, and he knew
that his sins would be condoned.

Four days later Hicks, who looked as far from home in his excellent
clothes as the clothes looked far from home in Rockvale, alighted, from
a lumbering local train. He made an inquiry of a man on the platform,
and, carrying a heavy suitcase, slouched up the main street of the
town.

Ham Dalton's place was the one the man had directed him to, and Hicks,
I after engaging the best rooms in the house for seventy-five cents,
scrubbed a little of the dust of travel from his person and went down
to the bar and gambling room. The drink of whiskey he got made even
his trained throat writhe, and he strolled over to the poker table to
join a group of calm and plainly-armed spectators of high play.

From the conversation he learned that the dam at Red Gut was washed
out; that Case Egan, a noted rancher, was in jail for shooting a deputy
sheriff, and that Hal Haines was expecting a "millionairess gal"
visitor from New York.

"When'll she be on?" drawled one of the players.

"Tomorrow's express."

"Sence when did the express stop at Rockvale?"

"Sence the president o' the road told it to stop for this here young
person," replied the informant crushingly.

Hicks was scanning the faces of the men about him with a purposeful
eye. Especially he watched one--a lean man in red shirt and leather
breeches, booted and spurred, who stood near the table.

Hicks approached him. "Hello, Patten," he said.

The man whirled so sharply that the revolver he had drawn, in whirling,
caught in Hick's coat and jerked him into the middle of the room. The
poker game went on without a sound or sign of interruption. The
bartender took a casual look at Hicks and the gunman, then went on
talking to a customer, as before.

"Hello, Hicks," said Patten, putting up the gun. "I'm much obliged
that I didn't kill you. We don't greet old friends quite so hasty out
here, boy, as you do in New York--especially when we haven't heard
our right name in some years," he added in a lowered voice.

"How long have