had been summoned appeared.

Bas Rowlett came last, and his face bore the marks of a sleepless night,
but he had undertaken a role and he purposed to play it to its end.

In after days, days for which Bas Rowlett was planning now, he meant
that every man who looked back on that wedding should remember and say
of him: "Bas, he war thar--plum friendly. Nobody couldn't be a man's
enemy an' act ther way Bas acted." In his scheme of conspiracy the art
of alibi building was both cornerstone and arch-key.

[Illustration: "_Even Bas Rowlett, whose nerves were keyed for an
ordeal, started and almost let the leaning bridegroom fall_"]

Now it pleased Cal, even at a time when other interests pressed so close
and absorbingly, to indulge himself in a grim and sardonic humour. The
man who had "hired him killed" and whom in turn he meant to kill
stood in the room where he himself lay too weak to rise from his bed,
and toward that man he nodded his head.

"Good mornin', Bas," he accosted, and the other replied, "Howdy, Cal."

Then Maggard turned to the others. "This man, Bas Rowlett," he said,
"sought to marry Dorothy hisself. Ye all knows thet, yet deespite thet
fact when I come hyar a stranger he befriended me, didn't ye, Bas?"

"We spoke ther truth ter one another," concurred Rowlett, wondering
uneasily whither the conversational trend was leading, "an' we went on
bein' friends."

"An' now afore ye all," Maggard glanced comprehensively about the group,
"albeit hit don't need no more attestin', he's goin' ter prove his
friendship fer me afresh."

A pause followed, broken finally from the bed.

"I kain't stand up terday--an' without standin' up I couldn't hardly be
rightfully wedded--so Bas air agoin' ter support me, and holp me out
thar an' hold me upright whilst I says ther words ... hain't ye, Bas?"

The hardly taxed endurance of the conspirator for a moment threatened to
break in failure. A hateful scowl was gathering in his eyes as he
hesitated and Maggard went on suavely: "Anybody else could do hit fer
me--but I've got ther feelin' thet I wants ye, Bas."

"All right," came the low answer. "I'll aim ter convenience ye, Cal."

He turned hastily and left the room, and bending over the bed Uncle Jase
produced the marriage license.

"I'll jest fill in these blank places," he announced, briskly, "with
ther names of Dorothy Harper an' Cal Maggard an' then we'll be ready fer
ther signatures."

But at that Magga