agged the four barrels close
together. The broadside of the wagon was turned toward the clamorous
crowd. Keeping his body hidden behind the bulwark he had made, he
watched and waited for more light.

Slowly the pale glow in the east lengthened and broadened and
brightened. Once Conniston lifted his rifle quickly to see if he could
find the sights. It was still too dark for quick, accurate work.

So again he waited. A strange, cool calmness had succeeded to his
almost frenzied agitation of a moment ago. He knew the danger of the
thing which he was about to do; he knew and realized clearly what he
might be called upon to do in self-protection alone when once he had
taken his stand. But there was no other way; and, no matter what the
consequences, no matter what the results, he accepted the only chance
which circumstances had left him. And moments of unswerving
determination do not make for nervous excitement. It is the anxious
uncertainty, like that through which he had just passed, that makes a
man's finger tremble upon the trigger.

Louder and ever louder rose the throaty voices, faster and faster
passed the cups and dippers. Ben and Mundy had their arms about each
other. In the wagon the Lark had slipped down, and now lay upon his
back, staring at the dim, swirling stars and babbling incoherent
nothings.

Men sang in strident, raucous, unmusical voices. A swarthy little
Italian was playing waltzes upon a harmonica, and heavy-booted feet
shuffled and stamped upon the sand as men flung their brawny arms
about one another and swayed back and forth. Conniston saw that when a
man thrust his arm down into the barrel for a fresh cupful of whisky
it did not disappear three inches above the elbow.

Swiftly the desert daylight came. Conniston stooped and tied his
boot-laces, that they might not trip him when he moved. He stood up
and whipped his revolver from its holster, spinning the cylinder, and
then shoving it back. And then, laying the rifle across the top of one
of the barrels, he cleared his throat and called out loudly.

One of the men nearest him heard him above the shouting and pointed
him out to another. The two laughed loudly and turned away from him,
forgetting him as they turned. Again he called, louder than before. No
one heard him, no one looked to him. He waved his hat above his head.
If any one saw, no one gave sign of seeing. He licked his lips and
lifted the rifle.

"God see me through with it!" he m