s as they went
and sent the occupants piling out to swell the crowd.

And so they rolled the crowd out of town and to the cemetery, where
"volunteers" dug the grave of Martin Ryder wide and deep, and Pierre
paid for the corner plot three times over in gold.

Then a coffin--improvised hastily for the occasion out of a
packing-box--was lowered reverently, also by "volunteer" mourners, and
before the first sod fell on the dead, Pierre borrowed a long black
cloak from one of the women and wrapped himself in it, in lieu of the
robe of the priest, and raised over his head the crucifix of Father
Victor that brought good luck, and intoned a service in the purest
Ciceronian Latin, surely, that ever regaled the ears of Morgantown's
elect.

The moment he raised that cross the bull throat of Jim Boone bellowed a
command, the poised guns of the gang enforced it, and all the crowd
dropped to their knees, leaving the six outlaws scattered about the
edges of the mob like sheep dogs around a folding flock, while in the
center stood Pierre with white, upturned face and the raised cross.

So Martin Ryder was buried with "trimmings," and the gang rode back,
laughing and shouting, through the town and up into the safety of the
mountains. Election day was fast approaching and therefore the rival
candidates for sheriff hastily organized posses and made the usual
futile pursuit.

In fact, before the pursuit was well under way, Boone and his men sat
at their supper table in the cabin. The seventh chair was filled; all
were present except Jack, who sulked in her room. Pierre went to her
door and knocked. He carried under his arm a package which he had
secured in the General Merchandise Store of Morgantown.

"We're all waiting for you at the table," he explained.

"Just keep on waiting," said the husky voice of Jacqueline.

"If I leave the table will you come out?"

She stammered: "Ye--n-no!"

"Yes or no?"

"No, no, no!"

And he heard the stamp of her foot and smiled a little.

"I've brought you a present."

"I hate your presents!"

"It's a thing you've wanted for a long time, Jacqueline."

Only a stubborn silence.

"I'm putting your door a little ajar."

"If you dare to come in I'll--"

"And I'm leaving the package right here at the entrance. I'm so sorry,
Jacqueline, that you hate me."

And then he walked off down the hall--cunning Pierre--before she could
send her answer like an arrow after him. At the table he