n Horn.

It looked like certain death. Main Street, irregular, is at that point
barely sixty feet wide. Perfectly collected, Van Horn trying to fell
his reckless antagonist, fired again. But Laramie with deadly purpose
ran straight at him. By the time Van Horn could swing again, Laramie
had reached the middle of the street and stood within the coveted
shadow that protected Van Horn. In that instant, halting, he whipped
his revolver suddenly up in his right hand, covered his enemy and fired
a single shot.

Van Horn's head jerked back convulsively. He almost sprang into the
air. His arms shot out. His revolver flew from his hand. He reeled,
and falling heavily across the board walk, turned, shuddering, on his
face. The bullet striking him between the eyes had killed him
instantly.

Twenty men were running up. They left a careful lane between the man
now standing motionless in the middle of the street and his prone
antagonist. But Laramie knew too well the marks of an agony such as
that--the clenching, the loosing of the hands, the last turn, the
relaxing quiver. He had seen too many stricken animals die.

Limp and bleeding, overcome with the horror of what he had not been
able to avert, he walked back to his starting point and sat down on the
edge of the sidewalk. His revolver had been tucked mechanically into
the waistband of his trousers. Men swarming into the street crowded
about. Carpy, agitated, tore open his bloody shirt.

Laramie put up his right hand: "I'm not damaged much, doctor," he said
slowly and looking across the street. "See if you can do anything for
him."

While he spoke, the tremor of a woman's voice rang in his half-dazed
ears--a woman trying to reach him. "Oh! where is he?"

Men at the back of the crowd cried to make way. The half circle before
Laramie parted. He sprang to his feet, held out his right arm, and
Kate with an inarticulate cry, threw herself sobbing on his breast.

CHAPTER XLIV

TENISON SERVES BREAKFAST

"I'm telling you, Sawdy," expostulated McAlpin, in the manner of an
ultimatum, "I'm a patient man. But you've got to get out of that room."

Sawdy stood a statue of dignity and defiance: "And I'm telling you, Hop
Scotch, I'll get out of that room when I get good and ready."

"A big piece of ceiling came down last night," thundered McAlpin.

Belle was listening; these sparks were flying at her gate: "Whatever
you do," she interjected contemptuousl