you know it! I can't fight so much as an old woman! I am too
nervous--too excitable."

"Arrah! Oi think we have fergot how ye cowed Colonel La Salle Vallier,
th' champion foire-ater av New Orleans."

"No, I have not forgotten that; but I was mad, aroused, excited at the
time--I had completely forgotten myself."

"Forget yersilf now, profissor."

"I can't! I can't! It's no use! I would be in the way if I went to the
jail. I shall stay away."

The professor was an exceedingly timid man, as Barney very well knew, so
he did not add to his agitation by telling him that, while returning
from the jail, he had heard it hinted that the boy prisoner had two
friends in the hotel who might be treated to a "dose of hemp necktie."

The professor, however, suspected the truth, and he kept in his room.
Danger could not keep Barney there, and, having reported the result of
his conversation with Frank, he went out to learn what was going on.

Two persons very much in evidence since the arrival of the train were
the Jew and the dude. The Jew had a way of insinuating himself into the
midst of any little knot that was gathered aside from the general
throng, and, if they were speaking guardedly, he seemed sure to hear
what they were saying and enter into the conversation. As a rule, this
was not what would be called a "healthy" thing to do in such a place and
on such an occasion; but the report of Solomon's encounter with Bill
Buckhorn, the Man from 'Rapahoe, had been circulated freely, and the Jew
was tolerated for what he had done.

While he appeared very curious to hear anything that seemed like private
conversation, the Jew did not neglect any opportunity to transact
business, and he made so many trades during the day that the size of his
pack materially decreased.

The dude seemed scarcely less curious than the Jew. He had a way of
listening with his eyes and mouth wide open, but he lost no time in
getting out of the way if ordered to do so. For all of his curiosity, he
seemed very timid.

The day passed, and night came. Still Professor Scotch had received no
answers to his telegrams.

Shortly after nine o'clock that evening, the report spread rapidly that
Robert Dawson, the Eastern banker, was dead.

Immediately there was a swift and silent stirring of men--a significant
movement.

"Thot manes throuble!" was Barney Mulloy's mental exclamation. "Th'
sheriff should know av it."

The Irish lad believed that he was watch