d
her, but he had no hope of winning her. She had never been more than
good friends with him, and he realized her feeling for Wade, but this
knowledge did not make him less keen in his admiration of her.

"Good luck to you, Lem," she said, giving him her hand, as they paused
at the head of Crawling Water's main street. "Let me know what you do as
soon as you can. I'll be anxious."

He nodded.

"I know about where to find him, if he's in town. Oh, we're slowly
getting it on them, Dorothy. We'll be ready to 'call' them pretty soon.
Good-by!"

Tug Bailey, however, was not in town, as the cattleman learned at Monte
Joe's dance-hall, piled high with tables and chairs and reeking with the
stench, left over from the previous night, of whiskey fumes and stale
tobacco smoke. Monte Joe professed not to know where the puncher had
gone, but as Trowbridge pressed him for information the voice of a
woman, as shrill as the squawk of a parrot, floated down from the floor
above.

"Wait a minute."

Trowbridge waited and the woman came down to him. He knew her by
ill-repute, as did every man in the town, for she was Pansy Madder, one
of the dance-hall habitues, good-looking enough by night to the inflamed
fancy, but repulsive by day, with her sodden skin and hard eyes.

"You want to know where Tug is?" she demanded.

"Yes, where is he?"

"He's headed for Sheridan, I reckon. If he ain't headed there, he'll
strike the railroad at some other point; him and that--Nellie Lewis,
that he's skipped with." Her lusterless eyes were fired by the only
thing that could fire them: her bitter jealousy.

"You're sure?" Trowbridge persisted, a little doubtfully.

"Sure? Of course, I'm sure. Say,"--she clutched at his arm as he turned
away,--"if he's wanted for anything, bring him back here, will you?
Promise me that! Let me"--her pale lips were twisted by an ugly
smile--"get my hands on him!"

From the dance-hall, Trowbridge hastened to the jail to swear out a
warrant for Bailey's arrest and to demand that Sheriff Thomas telegraph
to Sheridan and to the two points above and below, Ranchester and
Clearmont, to head off the fugitive there. Not knowing how far the
Sheriff might be under the dominance of the Rexhill faction, the
cattleman was not sure that he could count upon assistance from the
official. He meant, if he saw signs of indecision, to do the
telegraphing himself and to sign at the bottom of the message the name
of every ranch ow