myself. And worse--far worse, gentlemen, he casts reflections on
The Polka, the establishment of the one decent woman in Cloudy."

"You bet!" affirmed Nick, indignantly.

"Yes, a lady, d'you hear me?" stormed Sonora, addressing the prisoner;
then: "You lily-livered skunk!"

"Oh, let's string 'im up!" urged Trinidad.

"Yes, come on, you . . .!" was Handsome's ejaculation, contriving, at
last, to get his hands on the faro dealer.

But again the Sheriff would have none of it.

"Hold on, hold on--" he began and paused to philosophise: "After all,
gents, what's death? A kick and you're off;" and then went on: "I've
thought of a worse punishment. Give him his coat."

Surprised and perplexed at this order, Handsome, reluctantly, assisted
the culprit into his coat.

"Put him over there," the Sheriff now ordered.

Whereupon, obedient to the instructions of that personage, The Sidney
Duck was roughly put down into a chair; and while he was firmly held
into it, Rance strolled nonchalantly over to the faro table and picked
out a card from the deck there. Returning, he quickly plucked a
stick-pin from the prisoner's scarf, saying, while he suited his action
to his words:

"See, now I place the deuce of spades over his heart as a warning. He
can't leave the camp, and he never plays cyards again--see?" And while
the men, awed to silence, stood looking at one another, he instructed
Handsome to pass the word through the camp.

"Ow, now, don't si that! Don't si that!" bawled out the card sharp.

The sentence met with universal approval. Rance waved an authoritative
hand towards the door; and the incident, a few seconds later, passed
into its place in the camp records. Albeit, in those seconds, and while
the men were engrossed in the agreeable task of ejecting The Sidney
Duck, The Polka harboured another guest, no less unwelcome, who made his
way unobserved through the saloon to become an unobtrusive spectator of
the doings in the dance-hall.

IV.

In the space of six months one can do little or much harm. The young
bandit,--for he had kept his oath to his father,--flattered himself
that he had done much. In all the mining camps of the Sierras the mere
mention of the name of Ramerrez brought forth execrations. Not a stage
started out with its precious golden freight without its passengers
having misgivings that they would be held up before reaching Sacramento.
Messengers armed with shotguns were always to be found