d so we didn't dast to shoot; er we'd
of got him. If you want to know what I think, they're a couple of
desperadoes that figgered on stickin' up the express box over to the
hotel, bein' as the payroll fer the Rock Creek mine come in today, only
he got drunk first an' queered the game. An' what I want to know," the
man continued, thrusting his face close to Endicott's, "is who the hell
you be, an'----"

The hotel keeper interrupted importantly: "Him an' the woman come in on
the stage an' wanted a couple rooms an' changed into them ridin'
outfits, an' slipped out an' didn't show up fer supper! I mistrusted
they was somethin' suspicious--they wanted a bath--an' the old woman
usin' the tubs----"

"An' bein' as we couldn't git you all," broke in the marshal, drawing
his gun, and at the same time pulling back his coat and displaying a
huge badge, "we'll jest take what we kin git. Yer under arrest, an' fer
fear you might be as handy with yer guns as yer pardner, you kin stick
up yer hands----"

"Hold on!" Colston's words boomed above the voices of the men who had
surged forward to hold Endicott.

"It's Y Bar Colston!" someone cried, and all eyes turned to the speaker.
The marshal eyed him sullenly as the men made way for him.

The ranchman was smiling: "Don't go makin' any mistakes, Hod," he said,
"let me make you acquainted with Mr. Endicott, of Cincinnati, Ohio,
owner of the Y Bar."

"The Y Bar!"

"Yes. I sold out to him this evenin'--lock, stock, an' barrel."

The marshal dropped his gun into its holster and eyed Endicott shrewdly:
"Sorry I got you wrong," he mumbled, extending his hand. "Blake's my
name. Glad to meet you. I run the store here. Carry the biggest stock
between Lewiston an' the Mizoo. Where do you figger on doin' yer
tradin'?"

Endicott made a gesture of impatience: "I haven't figured at all. But
this woman--my wife? How long has she been gone? Which way did she go?
And why----?"

"Be'n gone pretty clost to an' hour. Went down the trail to the Mizoo.
You kin search me fer why, onless it was to keep us from shootin' after
that hell-roarin' Texian. She said she know'd him. Who is he, an'
what's she so anxious he don't git shot fer?"

Before Endicott could reply, hoof-beats sounded on the trail, and in the
doorway a man yelled "They're comin' back!" Disregarding the rain which
fell in torrents the crowd surged into the street and surrounded the
horsemen who drew up before the door.

"They didn't