ajamas and
slippers, standing before the door. His attitude expressed uncertainty.
He glanced back and saw Clyde.

"What is it?" she asked. "Who is there?"

"I don't know," he replied. "There are men out there. They want me to
open the door. Do you know where there's a gun in the house? I
haven't----"

The impact of a heavy body cut him short. The lock gave way, and the
door swung inward. Wade sprang back and caught up a chair. Framed in
the door, silhouetted against the outer blackness, appeared a man. His
hat was pulled low over his eyes. A handkerchief cut with eyeholes
concealed his face. His right hand held a six-shooter, with which he
covered Wade. Back of him, pressing forward, were other armed men.

"Put that chair down!" he ordered. "Nobody's goin' to hurt you."

"Glad to hear it!" snapped Wade, who was the fortunate owner of
unlimited sand. "What do you mean by breaking into a house in the
middle of the night and frightening women? If you want money I've got
about fifty dollars, and that's all. You're welcome to it if you'll
clear out."

"Keep it," the intruder returned contemptuously. He stepped into the
room, followed by four others. "I guess your name is Wade. We don't
want you. We want McHale."

"Well, I haven't got him," said Wade.

"Where is he?"

"What do you want with him?"

"That's none of your business."

"All right. If that's so it's none of my business where he is."

"You'd better make it your business," said the other suggestively.

"Well, I won't," Wade retorted. "He isn't here, and that'll have to do
you."

"On general principles it don't do to believe a lawyer. Where's Dunne?"

"He isn't here, either."

"I reckon we'll make sure of that." He took a step in the direction of
Clyde's room. Wade stepped in front of him.

"No, you don't, my friend," said he. "That room belongs to a lady. You
keep out of it."

The leader stopped. "Well," he said, "I don't want to scare no women;
but all the same I'm goin' to see the inside of every room in this
house. S'pose you knock and tell that lady to fix herself up so's she
won't mind my takin' a look in. I'm goin' to make mighty sure her name
ain't McHale."

Clyde opened the door, and walked into the room. She was surprised to
find that she was not in the least frightened. Said she:

"Good evening, gentlemen. Do you think I resemble Mr. McHale?"

"No, ma'am," said the leader; "I don't reckon you favour him much."

Admiration was a