it strange to see the child consider that phase of the subject. She looked down at the peaked, freckled little face (on which, by the way, the freckles were fading very fast) and answered heartily, with her hand on the child's shoulder:

"Jest the best gal 'at ever was-that's what you air, Narcissy. Can't nobody go through this world givin' out so much as you do, without gittin' it back ag'in. Miz' Carter, she's jest bound to love anybody 'at loves her so much."

CHAPTER XX

LONE DEATHERAGE

“Now, therefore, I pray thee, take heed to thyself until the morning, and abide in a secret place, and hide thyself."

It was a week or so after Sissy's departure for the Circle M C with the baby.

Throughout the night there had been a gusty wind abroad, not the steady, sweeping plains wind, but a restless, distempered thing. It chafed the wagon-tire against the adobe wall, drawing from it whispered sounds, like shades of its merry daytime clangor, as though it called weird hosts to ghostly banquets.

But as the night waned, this wind fell silent; and in a still, mystic hour before the dawn, when life seemed to pause expectant, and all those little noises of the unquiet night were hushed, in an hour of mute waking, when creation itself appeared to hesitate as though asking a sign, there came a low timid tapping on Huldah's window.

She was awake instantly, and on the alert; all her faculties not only fully aroused, but actively at work. She realized in a flash that this was

some one who knew her and the ways of the house; some one who came unerringly to this one window to rouse nobody else in all the place, but just to call her. The cautiously guarded sound said, as plainly as words could have done : There is trouble-there is terror-I am come to you for help! And its rapidity, its importunity, explained as clearly: The need is pressing-it is life or death-come quickly—quickly! By the time an ordinary clumsy being would have wakened and begun to wonder what the disturbance was, Huldah Sarvice was out of bed, had wrapped about her the first garment that came to hand, and was at the window, skilfully unfastening it, having first tapped gently upon it to signify that she had heard.

With a groan of protest, the rude sash was dragged ajar; Huldah put her face to the aperture and murmured, "Who is it? What do you want?"

"It's me-Aunt Huldy-it's me-Lone Deatherage," came the reply, in a whisper broken by gasps. "They're after me-I've been ridin' more than four hours. Come come to the doorquick!-and let me in. I'll-I'll tell you all about it."

"The kitchen door, Lone-I'll let you in there. It's the only place we'd be alone in-the only

place where we could talk." With hasty hands she put on a wrapper, and, taking up her little brass lamp, crept with it unlighted across to the kitchen, unlocked its door-about the only door in the whole Wagon-Tire House provided with a lock-and the exhausted man waiting outside stumbled in.

Huldah closed and locked the door again, then quickly lighted her lamp and turned to him.

"What's the matter, Lone?" she began; then broke off. "Set down, child. Here," and she thrust him into a chair.

"They're after me, Aunt Huldah; some fellows from Emerald. I'm not guilty-but it looks that way to them. If they get their hands on me, they're not going to stop to ask any questions. They've got a rope-it's the first tree, with them. There's nobody on earth but you, I know, that would believe me. Can you-"

Huldah had come close to Deatherage. Now she leaned down to him, and with her eyes looking into his eyes, put her hand on his shoulder.

"But, Lone, what is it, boy? I reckon you were drinkin'-was that it?"

"Yes, of course, I was drinkin'-it's always that but I wasn't guilty of what they think. This thing's lynchin', an' I know you don't think that's right—"

R

"No, Lone, I don't hold with lynchin'; an' I believe you're not guilty, when you give me you're word that you're not. But I reckon you'll have to tell me what 'tis they say you done. What is it?"

"I-I'd rather- You know, the stage was held up last week over beyond Emerald ?"

Huldah nodded, her eyes upon his eyes. "Well, this evening, at Emerald-that is, last evening-Dutch John came to me-he's a kindhearted fellow, and he thinks-like you, Aunt Huldy-that I'm an innocent man-he came to me, terribly scared, and warned me that there was a great crowd over in Thacker's supply store; the sheriff was with them, carrying on and drinking (Crowder is a hard drinker) and getting ready to lynch me."

"What for, Lone? What did they say you'd done?" inquired Huldah's low voice.

Deatherage looked distressed.

"It was a pocketbook I had the Mexican chambermaid at Mrs. Humphrey's boardinghouse you know, the Cowboys' Home-she told some Mexican that she saw it under my pillow that morning-"

"An' did she? Did you have it?"

"Yes, I had it. Yes, it was one of the things taken from the stage by those that robbed it."