tter, huddled in
the doorway, pointing to the dim corner opposite. Frawley, following her
glance, saw the figure of a man stretched on a hasty bed of leaves. He
took a few quick steps and recognized Greenfield.

At the same moment the bundle shot to a sitting position, with a cry:

"Who's that?"

Frawley, with a quick motion, covered him with his revolver, crying:

"Hands up. It's me, Bucky, and I've got you now!"

"Frawley!"

"That's it, Bucky--Hands up!"

Greenfield, without obeying, stared at him wildly.

"God, it is Frawley!" he cried, and fell back in a heap.

Inspector Frawley, advancing a step, repeated his command with no
uncertain ring:

"Hands up! Quick!"

On the bed the distorted body contracted suddenly into a ball.

"Easy, Bub," Greenfield said between his teeth. "Easy; don't get
excited. I'm dying."

"You?"

Frawley approached cautiously, suspiciously.

"Fact. I'm cashin' in."

"What's the matter?"

"Bug. Plain bug--the desert did the rest."

"A what?"

"Tarantula bite--don't laugh, Bub."

Frawley, at his side, needed but a glance to see that it was true. He
ran his hand over Greenfield's belt and removed his pistol.

"Sorry," he said curtly, standing up.

"Quite keerect, Bub!"

"Can I do anything for you?"

"Nope."

Suddenly, without warning, Greenfield raised himself, glared at him,
stretched out his hands, and fell into a passionate fit of weeping.
Frawley's English reserve was outraged.

"What's the matter?" he said angrily. "You're not going to show the
white feather now, are you?"

With an oath Greenfield sat bolt upright, silent and flustered.

"D---- you, Bub--show some imagination," he said after a pause. "Do
you think I mind dying--me? That's a good one. It ain't that--no--it's
ending, ending like this. After all I've been through, to be put out of
business by a bug--an ornery little bug."

Then Frawley comprehended his mistake.

"I say, Bucky, I'll take that back," he said awkwardly.

"No imagination, no imagination," Greenfield muttered, sinking back.
"Why, man, if I'd chased you three times around the world and got you,
I'd fall on you and beat you to a pulp or--or I'd hug you like a
long-lost brother."

"I asked your pardon," said Frawley again.

"All right, Bub--all right," Greenfield answered with a short laugh.
Then after a pause he added seriously: "So you've come--well, I'm glad
it's over. Bub," he continued, raising himself excitedly on his