und arms. Morgan could fancy still, even
over the distance between them, the small teeth, wide set in the red
gums like a pup's, and the loathsome glitter of his sneering eyes.

CHAPTER XII

IN PLACE OF A REGIMENT

Morgan rode back to town in thoughtful, serious mood after conducting
the six desperadoes across the small trickle of the Arkansas River. He
was not satisfied with the morning's adventure, no matter to what extent
it reflected credit on his manhood and competency in the public mind of
Ascalon. He would have been easier in all conscience and higher in his
own esteem if it had not happened at all.

He thought soberly now of getting his trunk over to Conboy's from the
station and changing back into the garb of civilization before meeting
that girl again, that wonderful girl, that remarkable woman who could
play a tune on him to suit her caprice, he thought, as she would have
fingered a violin.

Judge Thayer's little office, with the white stakes behind it marking
off the unsold lots like graves of a giant race, reminded Morgan of his
broken engagement to look at the farm. He hitched his horse at the rack
running out from one corner of the building, where other horses had
stood fighting flies until they had stamped a hollow like a buffalo
wallow in the dusty ground.

Judge Thayer got up from the accumulated business on his desk at the
sound of Morgan's step in his door, and came forward with welcome in his
beaming face, warmth of friendliness and admiration in every hair of
his beard, where the gray twinkled like laughter among the black.

"I asked the governor for a company of militia to put down the disorder
and outlawry in this town--I didn't think less than a company could do
it," said the judge.

"Is he sending them?" Morgan inquired with polite interest.

"No, I'm glad to say he refused. He referred me to the sheriff."

"And the sheriff will act, I suppose?"

"Act?" Judge Thayer repeated, turning the word curiously. "Act!"--with
all the contempt that could be centered in such a short
expression--"yes, he'll act like a forsworn and traitorous coward, the
friend to thieves that he's always been! We don't need him, we don't
need the governor's petted, stall-fed militia, when we've got one man
that's a regiment in himself!"

The judge must shake hands with Morgan again, and clap him on the
shoulder to further express his admiration and the feeling of security
his single-handed exploit aga