ays, each one striving to appear unconcerned, as if his
presence there was an accident instead of being occasioned by knowledge
that something of interest would soon transpire. A man she knew for a
Slade rider moved out to the edge of the sidewalk across the street
from Harris. She saw the lumbering form of Waddles edging up beside
him. Other Three Bar boys were watching every man who showed a
disposition to detach himself from the groups in the doors. The blare
of the piano and all sounds of revelry had hushed.

The girl felt the clutch of stark fear at her heart. She had come too
late. Harris was to meet Slade. It seemed that she must die with him
if he should pass out before she could speak to him again and tell him
she was back. She had a wild desire to run to him,--at least to lean
from the window and call out to him to mount Calico and ride away. But
she knew he would not. She was frontier bred. Even the knowledge that
she was in town might unsteady him now. She sat without a move and the
driver and guard outside supposed her merely a curious on-looker
interested in the scene.

"A hundred on Harris," the driver offered.

The guard grunted a refusal.

"I'd bet that way myself," he said.

From this she knew that the two men were hoping Harris would be the one
to survive; but the fact that their proffered bets backed their
sentiments was no proof that they felt the conviction of their desire.
She knew the men of their breed. No matter how small the chance, their
money would inevitably be laid on the side of their wishes, never
against them, as if the wagering of a long shot was proof of their
confidence and might in some way exercise a favorable influence on the
outcome. No man had ever stood against Slade. She noted Harris's gun.
He carried it with the same awkward sling as of old, on the left side
in front with the butt to the right.

"Fifty on Slade," a voice offered from the doorway of the hotel. The
guard started for the spot but the bet was snapped up by another. Wild
fighting rage swept through her at the thought that to all these men it
was but a sporting event.

Her eyes never once left Harris as he came down the street. When
almost abreast of the stage Slade stepped from a doorway twenty feet in
before him and stopped in his tracks. Harris turned on one heel and
stood with his left side quartering toward Slade,--the old pose she
remembered so well. There was a tense quiet the len