eminiscence of bygone fashions. A
smile came to Sinclair's lips as he thought of a couple walking up Fifth
Avenue during his leave of absence not many months before, and of a
letter many times read, lying at that moment in his breast-pocket.

"Papa's bark is worse than his bite," ran one of its sentences. "Of
course he does not like the idea of my leaving him and going away to
such dreadful and remote places as Denver and Omaha and I don't know
what else; but he will not oppose me in the end, and when you come on
again--"

"By thunder!" exclaimed Sam; "ef thar ain't one of them cussed sharps
a-watchin' 'em."

Sure enough a rough-looking fellow, his hat pulled over his eyes, half
concealed behind a pile of lumber, was casting a sinister glance toward
the pair.

"The gal's well enough," continued Sam; "but I don't take a cent's wuth
of stock in thet thar father of her'n. He's in with them sharps, sure
pop, an' it don't suit his book to hev Foster hangin' round. It's ten to
one he sent that cuss to watch 'em, Wa'al, they're a queer lot, an'
I'm afeared thar's plenty of trouble ahead among 'em. Good luck to you,
Major," and, he pushed back his chair and walked away.

After breakfast next morning, when Sinclair was sitting at the table
in his office, busy with maps and plans, the door was thrown open, and
Foster, panting for breath, ran in.

"Major Sinclair," he said, speaking with difficulty, "I've no claim on
you, but I ask you to protect me. The other gamblers are going to hang
me. They are more than ten to one. They will track me here; unless you
harbor me, I'm a dead man."

Sinclair rose from his chair in a second and walked to the window. A
party of men were approaching the building. He turned to Foster:

"I do not like your trade," said he; "but I will not see you murdered
if I can help it. You are welcome here." Foster said "Thank you," stood
still a moment, and then began to pace the room, rapidly clinching his
hands, his whole frame quivering, his eyes flashing fire--"for all the
world," Sinclair said, in telling the story afterward, "like a fierce
caged tiger."

"My God!" he muttered, with concentrated intensity, "to be _trapped_,
trapped like this!"

Sinclair stepped quickly to the door of his bedroom and motioned Foster
to enter. Then there came a knock at the outer door, and he opened it
and stood on the threshold erect and firm. Half a dozen "toughs" faced
him.

"Major," said their spokesman, "w