aw, ruffianly, desperado class so numerous in Benton.

Neale begged Larry to be cautious, to go slow, to ferret out things,
and so help him, instead of making it harder to locate Allie through his
impetuosity.

"Pard, I reckon Allie's done for," said Larry, gloomily.

"No--no! Larry, I feel she's alive--well. If she were dead or--or--well,
wouldn't I know?" protested Neale.

But Larry was not convinced. He had seen the hard side of border life;
he knew the odds against Allie.

"Reckon I'll look fer that Fresno," he said.

And deeper than before he plunged into Benton's wild life.

One evening Neale, on returning from work to his lodgings, found the
cowboy there. In the dim light Larry looked strange. He had his gun-belt
in his hands. Neale turned up the lamp.

"Hello, Red! What's the matter? You look pale and sick," said Neale.

"They wanted to throw me out of thet dance ball," said Larry.

"Which one?"

"Stanton's."

"Well, DID they?" inquired Neale.

"Wal, I reckon not. I walked. An' some night I'll shore clean out thet
hall."

Neale did not know what to make of Larry's appearance. The cowboy seemed
to be relaxing. His lips, that had been tight, began to quiver, and his
hands shook. Then he swung the heavy gun-belt with somber and serious
air, as if he were undecided about leaving it off even when about to go
to bed.

"Red, you've thrown a gun!" exclaimed Neale.

Larry glanced at him, and Neale sustained a shock.

"Shore," drawled Larry.

"By Heaven! I knew you would," declared Neale, excitedly, and he
clenched his fist. "Did you--you kill some one?"

"Pard, I reckon he's daid," mused the cowboy. "I didn't look to see....
Fust gun I've throwed fer long.... It 'll come back now, shorer 'n
hell!"

"What 'll come back?" queried Neale.

Larry did not answer this.

"Who'd you shoot?" Neale went on.

"Pard, I reckon it ain't my way to gab a lot," replied Larry.

"But you'll tell ME," insisted Neale, passionately. He jerked the gun
and belt from Larry, and threw them on the bed. "All right," drawled
Larry, taking a deep breath. "I went into Stanton's hall the other
night, an' a pretty girl made eyes at me. Wal, I shore asked her to
dance. I reckon we'd been good pards if we'd been let alone. But there's
a heap of fellers runnin' her an' some of them didn't cotton to me. One
they called Cordy--he shore did get offensive. He's the four-flush, loud
kind. I didn't want to make any trouble for the