one he bestrode--until a few days before the property of Judge
Boompointer. This was his sole distinction.

The unexpected question stirred him for a moment out of the attitude
of reckless indifference, for attitude it was, and a part of his
profession. But it may have touched him that at that moment he was
less than his companion and his virago wife. However, he only shook
his head. As he did so his eye casually fell on the handsome girl by
the doorpost, who was looking at him. The ringleader, too, may have
been touched by his complete loneliness, for _he_ hesitated. At
the same moment he saw that the girl was looking at his friendless
captive.

A grotesque idea struck him.

"Salomy Jane, ye might do worse than come yere and say 'good-by' to a
dying man, and him a stranger," he said.

There seemed to be a subtle stroke of poetry and irony in this that
equally struck the apathetic crowd. It was well known that Salomy
Jane Clay thought no small potatoes of herself, and always held off
the local swain with a lazy nymph-like scorn. Nevertheless, she
slowly disengaged herself from the doorpost, and, to everybody's
astonishment, lounged with languid grace and outstretched hand towards
the prisoner. The color came into the gray reckless mask which the
doomed man wore as her right hand grasped his left, just loosed by his
captors. Then she paused; her shy, fawn-like eyes grew bold, and fixed
themselves upon him. She took the chewing-gum from her mouth, wiped
her red lips with the back of her hand, by a sudden lithe spring
placed her foot on his stirrup, and, bounding to the saddle, threw her
arms about his neck and pressed a kiss upon his lips.

[Illustration]

They remained thus for a hushed moment--the man on the threshold of
death, the young woman in the fullness of youth and beauty--linked
together. Then the crowd laughed; in the audacious effrontery of the
girl's act the ultimate fate of the two men was forgotten. She slipped
languidly to the ground; _she_ was the focus of all eyes,--she
only! The ringleader saw it and his opportunity. He shouted: "Time's
up--Forward!" urged his horse beside his captives, and the next moment
the whole cavalcade was sweeping over the clearing into the darkening
woods.

Their destination was Sawyer's Crossing, the headquarters of the
committee, where the council was still sitting, and where both
culprits were to expiate the offense of which that council had already
found them gu