rescuing sail, then
parted and went clumping their various ways over the rattling board
walks.

Morgan stopped at the pump in the square to refresh himself with a
drink. A dog came and lapped out of the trough, stood a little while
when its thirst was satisfied, turning its head listening, as though it
missed something out of the night. It trotted off presently, in angling
gait like a ferry boat making a crossing against an outrunning tide. It
was the last living thing on the streets of the town but the weary city
marshal, who stood with hat off at the pump to feel the cool wind that
came across the sleeping prairie before the dawn.

At that same hour another watcher turned from her open window, where she
had sat a long time straining into the silence that blessed the town.
She had been clutching her heart in the dread of hearing a shot, full of
upbraidings for the peril she had thrust upon this chivalrous man. For
he would not have assumed the office but for her solicitation, she knew
well. She stretched out her hand into the moonlight as if she wafted him
her benediction for the peace he had brought, a great, glad surge of
something more tender than gratitude in her warm young bosom.

In a little while she came to the window again, when the moonlight was
slanting into it, and stood leaning her hands on the sill, her dark hair
coming down in a cloud over her white night dress. She strained again
into the quiet night, listening, and listening, smiled. Then she stood
straight, touched finger tips to her lips and waved away a kiss into the
moonlight and the little timid awakening wind that came out of the east
like a young hare before the dawn.

CHAPTER XIV

SOME FOOL WITH A GUN

Morgan was roused out of his brief sleep at the Elkhorn hotel shortly
after sunrise by the night telegrapher at the railroad station, who came
with a telegram.

"I thought you'd like to have it as soon as possible," the operator
said, in apology for his early intrusion, standing by Morgan's bed, Tom
Conboy attending just outside the door with ear primed to pick up the
smallest word.

"Sure--much obliged," Morgan returned, his voice hoarse with broken
sleep, his head not instantly clear of its flying clouds. The operator
lingered while Morgan ran his eye over the few words.

"Much obliged, old feller," Morgan said, warmly, giving the young man a
quick look of understanding that must serve in place of more words,
seeing that Con