allowed to pass a meal hour at the ranch without
partaking of refreshment. It was one of the principal items provided for
in the prairie creed, and the greatest insult to be offered at such time
would have been to leave the house before the repast.

At eight o'clock the girl announced the meal with characteristic
heartiness.

"Come right along and feed," she said. "Who knows what to-night may
bring forth? I guess we can't do better than drink success to our
friend, Sergeant Horrocks. Whatever the result of his work to-night we
all allow his nerve's right. Say, good people, there's liquor on the
table--and glasses; a bumper to Sergeant Horrocks."

The wording of the girl's remarks was significant. Truly Horrocks might
have been the leader of a forlorn hope. Many of those present certainly
considered him to be such. However, they were none the less hearty in
their toast, and Jacky and Bill were the two first to raise their
glasses on high.

The toast drunk, tongues were let loose and the supper began. Ten
o'clock was the time at which Horrocks was to set out. Therefore there
were two hours in which to make merry. Never was a merrier meal taken at
the ranch. Spirits were at bursting point, due no doubt to the current
of excitement which actuated each member of the gathering.

Jacky was in the best of spirits, and even "Poker" John was enjoying one
of his rare lucid intervals. "Lord" Bill sat between Jacky and Mrs.
Abbot, and a more charming companion the old lady thought she had never
met. It was Jacky who led the talk, Jacky who saw to every one's wants,
Jacky whose spirits cheered everybody, by her light badinage, into, even
against their better judgment, a feeling of optimism. Even Horrocks felt
the influence of her bright, winsome cheeriness.

"Capture this colored scoundrel, Sergeant Horrocks," the girl exclaimed,
with a laughing glance, as she helped him to a goodly portion of baked
Jack-rabbit, "and we'll present you with the freedom of the settlement,
in an illuminated address inclosed in a golden casket. That's the mode,
I take it, in civilized countries, and I guess we are civilized
hereabout, some. Say, Bill, I opine you're the latest thing from England
here to-night. What does 'freedom' mean?"

Bill looked dubious. Everybody waited for his answer.

"Freedom--um. Yes, of course--freedom. Why, freedom means banquets. You
know--turtle soup--bile--indigestion. Best champagne in the mayor's
cellar. Police