n to train it on
the tall figure while the mob prepared to storm the jail again--and his
shot would be the signal--this time in desperate determination to take
it or die.

In the mob near Richard Travis stood a boy, careless and cool, and
holding in his hand an old pistol. Richard Travis noticed the boy
because he felt that the boy's eyes were always on him--always. When he
looked down into them he was touched and sighed, and a dream of the
long-ago swept over him--of a mountain cabin and a maiden fair to look
upon. He bit his lip to keep back the tenderness--bit his lip and rode
away--out of reach of the boy's eyes.

But the boy, watching him, knew, and he said in his quiet, revengeful
way: "Twice have I failed to kill you--but to-night--my Honorable
father--to-night in the death that will be here, I shall put this bullet
through your heart."

Travis turned to the mob: "Men, when I fire this rifle--it will mean for
you to charge!"

A hush fell over the crowd as they watched him. He looked at his
rifle closely. He sprang the breech and threw out a shell or two to
see that it worked properly.

"Stay where you are, men," came that same voice they had heard so
plainly before that night. "We are now four and well armed and sworn
to uphold the law and protect the prisoner, and if you cross the dead
line you will die."

There was a silence, and then that old voice again, the voice that
roused the mob to fury:

"I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger,
I can tarry--I can tarry but a night--"

"Lead us on--give the signal, Richard Travis," they shouted.

Again the silence fell as Richard Travis raised his rifle and aimed
at the tall figure outlined closely and with magnified distinctness
in the glare of bonfire and torch. How splendidly cool and brave he
looked--that tall figure standing there, giving orders as calmly as
he gave them at Shiloh and Franklin, and so forgetful of himself and
his own safety!

Richard Travis brought his rifle down--it shook so--brought it down
saying to himself with a nervous laugh: "It is not Tom--not Tom
Travis I am going to kill--it's--it's Alice's husband of only two
days--her lover--"

"Shoot! Why don't you shoot?" they shouted. "We are waiting to
rush--"

Even where he stood, Richard Travis could see the old calm, quiet and
now triumphant smile lighting up Tom Travis's face, and he knew he
was thinking of Alice--Alice, his bride.

And then that same nervous, uncanny chil