of twenty years back before Kern
come on the job and cleaned up the gunfighters!"

"Two murders!" repeated the girl faintly. "And has Arizona confessed,
too?"

"Not him! But the sheriff has enough to give him a hard run. I got to
be drifting on, son. Take my advice and head straight for Woodville.
You lack five years of being old enough for Sour Creek these days!" He
called his farewell, threw off the brake and cursed the span of horses
into their former trot.

As for Jig, she waited until the scent of alkali dust died away, and
the rattle of the buckboard was faint in the distance. Then she turned
her horse back toward Sour Creek and urged it to a steady gallop,
bouncing in the saddle.

There seemed a fatality about her. On her account Sinclair had thrown
his life in peril, and now Arizona was caught and held in the same
danger. Enough of sacrifices for her; her mind was firm to repay some
of these services at any cost, and she had thought of a way.

With that gloomy purpose before her, her ordinary timidity disappeared.
It was strange to ride into Sour Creek, and she passed in review among
the rough men of the town, constantly fearful that they might pierce
her disguise. She had trained herself to a long stride and a swaggering
demeanor, and by constant practice she had been able to lower the pitch
of her voice and roughen its quality. Yet, in spite of the constant
practice, she never had been able to gain absolute self-confidence.
Tonight, however, there was no fear in her.

She went straight to the hotel, threw the reins, and walked boldly
through the door into a cluster of men. They yelled at the sight of
her.

"Jig, by guns! He's come in! Say, kid, the sheriff's been looking for
you."

They swerved around her, grinning good-naturedly. When a person has
been almost lynched for a crime another has committed, he gains a
certain standing, no matter what may be the public opinion of his
courage. The schoolteacher had become a personage. But Jig met their
smiles with a level eye.

"If the sheriff's looking for me," she said, "tell him I have a room in
the hotel. He can find me here."

Pop shook hands before he shoved the register toward her. "My kids will
sure be glad to see you safe back," he said. "And I'm glad, too, Jig."

Nodding, she turned to sign her name in the bold, free hand which she
had cultivated. She could feel the crowd staring behind her, and she
could hear their murmurs. But she was not