t
proof of something crooked we might...."

"Well, I think we can," Dorothy interrupted.

They looked searchingly at each other in the gathering dusk, and he
tried to read the light in her eyes, and being strangely affected
himself by their close proximity, he misinterpreted it. He slipped his
hand over hers and once more the desire to kiss her seized him. He let
go of her hand and was just putting his arm around her shoulders when,
to his surprise, she appeared suddenly indignant.

"Don't!"

He was abashed, and for a moment neither said a word.

"What is the combination?" he finally asked hoarsely.

"I promised Mr. Barsdale never to tell any one." Her lips wreathed into
a little smile. "I'll do it myself."

"No, you won't." Wade shook his head positively. "Do you suppose I'm
going to let you steal for me? It will be bad enough to do it myself;
but necessity knows no law. Well, we'll let it go for the present then.
Don't you think of doing it, Dorothy. Will you promise me?"

"I never promise," she said, smiling again, and ignoring her last words
in womanly fashion, "but if you don't want me to...."

"Well, I don't," he declared firmly. "Let it rest at that. We'll
probably find some other way anyhow."

She asked him then about Santry, but he evaded a direct answer beyond
expressing the conviction that everything would end all right. They
talked for a while of commonplaces, although nothing that he said seemed
commonplace to her and nothing that she said seemed so to him. When it
was fully dark he arose to go. Then she seemed a little sorry that she
had not let him put his arm around her, and she leaned toward him as
she had done on the trail; but he was not well versed in woman's
subtleties, and he failed to guess her thoughts and walked away, leaving
her, as Shakespeare put it, to

"Twice desire, ere it be day,
That which with scorn she put away."

Having mounted his horse at the livery stable, he first made sure that
the extra horse was behind the school-house, where he tied his own, and
then walked around to the jail. On the outside, this building was a
substantial log structure; within, it was divided into the Sheriff's
office and sleeping room, the "bull pen," and a single narrow cell, in
which Wade guessed that Santry would be locked. After examining his
revolver, he slipped it into the side pocket of his coat and walked
boldly up to the jail. Then, whistling merrily, for Bat Lewi