ment rather than go to the penitentiary.
Life to them, their own and their enemy's, means nothing. They set
no value on it whatsoever. The trade is profitable, and"--she
sighed--"against the law. Those engaged in it live for the excitement
of fighting the law. That's one of the reasons which makes it
impossible that Charlie could be one of them. No, Mr. Bryant, I guess
it's not for us to do this thing. We just couldn't do a thing. But we
must think of Charlie, and, when we've thought, and the time comes,
why, then--we'll act. Fyles is a brave man, and a just man," she went
on, with a slight warmth. "He's a man of unusual capacity, and worth
admiration. But he is a police officer," she added regretfully. "In
saving Charlie from him we shall prevent one good man wronging
another, and I guess that should be good service. Let's content
ourselves with that. Will you help?"

Big Brother Bill had no hesitation at any time. He was carried away by
the enthusiasm Kate's words inspired. He thrust out one great hand and
crushed the woman's in its palm.

"Sure I'll help. I've just got two hands and a straight eye, and when
fight's around I don't care if it snows. My head's the weak spot. But,
anyway, what you say goes. We'll save Charlie, or--or--Say, a real
bright woman's just about the grandest thing God ever made."

Kate winced under the crushing force of his handshake, but she smiled
bravely and thankfully up into his face as she bade him "good night."

CHAPTER XVII

BILL PEEPS UNDER THE SURFACE

The surprises of the night were not yet over for Big Brother Bill. It
almost seemed as if a lifetime of surprises were to be crowded into
his first night in the valley of Leaping Creek.

Still thoroughly moist, he finally reached home to find his brother
there, waiting for him.

Of course, the big man promptly blundered.

Charlie was in the living room, sitting in a dilapidated rocking
chair. An unopen book was in his lap, and his dark, clever face was
turned toward the single window the room possessed, as the heavy tread
of Bill sounded on the veranda.

It was obvious he was still laboring under the influence of the
drink; it was also obvious, though less apparent, that he was laboring
under an emotion, which unusually disturbed him. His eyes were shining
with a gleaming light which might have expressed anger, excitement,
or even simply the effect of his libations. Whatever it was, Bill
recognized, without apprecia