bared, and the crowd began to disperse with swiftness, so
that, in a very few minutes, all had departed.

Then came the deputy sheriffs, with horses, and arrangements for
conveying the prisoner to the jail were swiftly completed.

Frank had advised the professor and Barney not to be too outspoken, for
fear they might also be arrested. He advised them to keep quiet, but to
work for him to the best of their ability, and lose no time.

A handshake, a hurried parting, and the boy was borne away to jail.

CHAPTER VI.

SOLOMON SHOWS HIS NERVE.

The jail at Elreno was a wooden building, hastily constructed in the
feverish days of the early boom, with many weak points and few strong
ones.

Not for long were prisoners confined there, as "justice" in the new
Territory moved swiftly, and an arrest was quickly followed by a trial.

Hank Kildare and the guard moved swiftly with their prisoner, avoiding
the most public streets, and taking the boy to the jail by a roundabout
way.

It was well they did so, for, although the mob had dispersed, at the
request of Miss Dawson, the street along which it was believed the
sheriff would take Black Harry was thronged with citizens eager to get a
square look at the boy outlaw, who had become famous within ten days.

It is possible that Frank might have been taken along that street
without trouble, but it is much more likely that the sight of him would
have aroused the mob once more, and brought about another attempt at
lynching.

In fact, Bill Buckhorn, the man from 'Rapahoe, had gathered an
interested knot of tough-looking citizens about him, and he was dilating
on the "double derned foolishness" of wasting time over a person like
Black Harry by taking him to jail and giving him a trial.

"Over in 'Rapahoe we hang 'em first an' try 'em arterward," boastingly
declared the man in leather breeches. "We find that thar is ther
simplest way o' doin' business. Ef we makes a mistake, an' gits ther
wrong galoot, nobody ever kicks up much o' a row over it, fer we're
naterally lively over thar, an' we must hev somethin' ter 'muse us
'bout so often.

"Now, ef we hed ketched this yere Black Harry--wa'al, say! Great cats!
Does any critter hyar suspect thar'd been any monkey business with thet
thar young gent? Wa'al, thar wouldn't--none whatever. Ef we couldn't
found a tree handy, we'd hanged him ter ther corner o' a buildin', ur
any old thing high enough ter keep his feet up off ther