l that. I don't see but what that applies just as well now as it
did then."

"It doesn't," the Senator argued smugly, still rankling from Wade's
arraignment of him the day before, "because even hospitality has its
limits of obligation. So long as I knew Wade to be innocent, I did not
care to have him arrested; but I don't admit any sentiment of
hospitality which compels me to save a _known_ criminal from the hand of
justice. Sheriff Thomas came in to see me last night and I agreed with
him that Wade should be brought to account for his contempt of the law.
Wade forced his way into the jail and released his foreman at the point
of a gun. Even so, I feel sorry for Wade and I am a little apprehensive
of the consequences that will probably develop from his foolhardiness."

"Well, by God, if there's any sympathy for him floating around this
room, it all belongs to you, Senator." Moran tenderly fingered his
aching wrist. "I'm not one of these 'turn the other cheek' guys; you can
gamble on that!"

"But now where are we?" Rexhill ignored the other's remarks entirely.
"We are but little better off than Wade is. He pulled Santry out of
jail, and we tried to steal his ranch. The only difference is that so
far he has succeeded, and we have failed. He has as much law on his side
now as we have on ours."

Moran's head drooped a little before the force of this argument,
although he was chiefly impressed by the fact that he had failed. His
failures had been few, because Fortune had smiled upon him in the past;
and doubtless for this reason he was the less able to treat failure
philosophically. His plans at the ranch house had gone awry. He had
counted on meeting Wade there in the daytime, in the open, and upon
provoking him, before witnesses, into some hot-headed act which would
justify a battle. The surprise attack had left the agent without this
excuse for the hostilities which had occurred.

Rexhill arose and walked up and down the room in thought, his slippered
feet shuffling over the floor, showing now and then a glimpse of his
fat, hairy legs as the skirt of his bathrobe fluttered about. A cloud of
fragrant smoke from his cigar trailed him as he walked, and from the way
he chewed on the tobacco his _confreres_ in the Senate could have
guessed that he was leading up to one of his Czar-like pronouncements.
Presently he stopped moving and twisted the cigar in his mouth so that
its fumes would be out of his eyes, as his glance f