e quick!"

"Y Bar Colston?" he asked, with exasperating deliberation.

"Yes. Oh, please hurry!"

His left eyelid drooped meaningly, as he audibly expelled the moustache
from between his lips, and jerked his head in the direction of the
saloon, "Y'ain't helpin' his case none by draggin' Y Bar into it," he
opined. "Hod hates Y Bar on account he trades over to Claggett. Hod, he
runs the main store here besides bein' marshal."

"Oh, what shall I do!"

Making sure they were out of earshot, the man spoke rapidly. "They ain't
only one way to work it. You hustle back an' tell him to slip down
cellar an' climb up the shoot where they slide the beer-kaigs down. It
opens onto the alley between the livery barn an' the store. Hod ain't
thought of that yet, an' my horse is tied in the alley. Tell him to take
the horse an' beat it."

For an instant the girl peered into the man's eyes as if to fathom his
sincerity. "But why should you sacrifice your horse?"

The man cut her short: "I'll claim his'n, an' it's about an even trade.
Besides, he done me a good turn by not shootin' me in there when he had
the chanct, after I tried to help Barras hold him. An' I'm one of these
here parties that b'lieves one good turn deserves another."

"But," hesitated the girl, "you were shooting into the saloon at him. I
saw you."

"Yup, I was shootin', all right," he grinned, "but he'd of had to be'n
ten foot tall fer me to of hit him. It wouldn't of looked right fer me
not to of be'n a-shootin'."

"But, won't they shoot him when he tries to get away?"

The grin widened: "They won't. Tell him to come bustin' right out the
front way on the high lope, right into the middle of 'em. I know them
_hombres_ an' believe me, it's goin' to be fun to see 'em trompin' over
one another a-gittin' out of the road. By the time they git in shootin'
shape, he'll be into the dark."

"But, they'll follow him."

"Yes, mom. But they ain't goin' to ketch him. That horse of mine kin run
rings around anything they've got. Better hurry now, 'fore Hod thinks
about that beer-kaig shoot."

"Oh, how can I thank you?"

"Well, you might set up a brass statoo of me acrost from the post
office--when the sun hit it right it would show up clean from the top of
the divide."

Alice giggled, as the man extended his hand: "Here's a couple more
matches. You better run along, now. Jest tell that there Texas cyclone
that Ike Stork says this here play is the best bet, bein' as