ed to Johnson to conceal himself
behind the curtains of the bed, muttering the while:

"I got to let 'em in--I can't keep 'em out there on such a night . . ."
He had barely reached his place of concealment when the Girl slid back
the bolts and bade the boys to come in.

Headed by Rance, the men quickly filed in and deposited their lanterns
on the floor. It was evident that they had found the storm most severe,
for their boots were soaked through and their heavy buffalo overcoats,
caps and ear-muffs were covered with snow, which all, save Rance,
proceeded to remove by shaking their shoulders and stamping their feet.
The latter, however, calmly took off his gloves, pulled out a
beautifully-creased handkerchief from his pocket, and began slowly to
flick off the snow from his elegant mink overcoat before hanging it
carefully upon a peg on the wall. After that he went over to the table
and warmed his hands over the lighted candle there. Meanwhile, Sonora,
his nose, as well as his hands which with difficulty he removed from his
heavy fur mittens, showing red and swollen from the effects of the
biting cold, had gone over to the fire, where he ejaculated:

"Ouf, I'm cold! Glad you're safe, Girl!"

"Yes, Girl, The Polka's had a narrow squeak," observed Nick, stamping
his feet which, as well as his legs, were wrapped with pieces of
blankets for added warmth.

Unconsciously, at his words, the Girl's eyes travelled to the bed; then,
drawing her robe snugly about her, and seating herself, she asked with
suppressed excitement:

"Why, Nick, what's the matter? What's--"

Rance took it upon himself to do the answering. Sauntering over to the
Girl, he drawled out:

"It takes you a long time to get up, seems to me. You haven't so much
on, either," he went on, piercing her with his eyes.

Smilingly and not in the least disconcerted by the Sheriff's remark, the
Girl picked up a rug from the floor and wound it about her knees.

"Well?" she interrogated.

"Well, we was sure that you was in trouble," put in Sonora. "My breath
jest stopped."

"Me? Me in trouble, Sonora?" A little laugh that was half-gay,
half-derisive, accompanied her words.

"See here, that man Ramerrez--" followed up Rance with a grim look.

"--feller you was dancin' with," interposed Sonora, but checked himself
instantly lest he wound the Girl's feelings.

Whereupon, Rance, with no such compunctions, became the spokesman, a
grimace of pleasure spreading ov