aced
old owl! This time last night I was 'most a pauper and you sure were.
Both of us were under the charge of havin' killed a man each. To-night
we're rich as that fellow Crocus; anyhow I am, an' you're haided that
way. And both of us have cleared our names to boot. Ain't you got any red
blood in that big body of yore's?"

"I'll drop in to the Delmonico and get a bite, then ride out to the
Jackpot."

"You will not!" protested the cattleman. "Looky here, Dave. It's a
showdown. Have you got anything against me?"

Dave met him eye to eye. "Not a thing, Mr. Crawford. No man ever had a
better friend."

"Anything against Joyce?"

"No, sir."

"Don't hate my boy Keith, do you?"

"How could I?"

"Then what in hell ails you? You're not parlor-shy, are you? Say the
word, and we'll eat in the kitchen," grinned Crawford.

"I'm not a society man," said Sanders lamely.

He could not explain that the shadow of the prison walls was a barrier he
could not cross; that they rose to bar him from all the joy and happiness
of young life.

"Who in Mexico's talkin' about society? I said come up and eat supper
with me and Joy and Keith. If you don't come, I'm goin' to be good and
sore. I'll not stand for it, you darned old killjoy."

"I'll go," answered the invited man.

He went, not because he wanted to go, but because he could not escape
without being an ungracious boor.

Joyce flew to meet her father, eyes eager, hands swift to caress his
rough face and wrinkled coat. She bubbled with joy at his return, and
when he told her that his news was of the best the long lashes of the
brown eyes misted with tears. The young man in the background was struck
anew by the matronly tenderness of her relation to her father. She
hovered about him as a mother does about her son returned from the wars.

"I've brought company for supper, honey," Emerson told her.

She gave Dave her hand, flushed and smiling. "I've been so worried," she
explained. "It's fine to know the news is good. I'll want to hear it
all."

"We've got the stolen money back, Joy," exploded her father. "We know who
took it--Dug Doble and that cowboy Shorty and Miller."

"But I thought Miller--"

"He escaped. We caught him and brought him back to town with us."
Crawford seized the girl by the shoulders. He was as keen as a boy to
share his pleasure. "And Joy--better news yet. Miller confessed he
killed George Doble. Dave didn't do it at all."

Joyce came to the youn