hat his pull had saved him from trial.

The cattleman did not linger in that street lined with houses of
sinister faces. He did not care to call attention to his presence by
staying too long. Besides, he had some arrangements to make for the
night at his rooms.

These were simple and few. He oiled and loaded his revolver carefully,
leaving the hammer on the one chamber left empty to prevent accidents
after the custom of all careful gunmen. He changed into the wrinkled
suit he had worn when he reached the city, and substituted for his
shoes a pair of felt-soled gymnasium ones.

The bow-legged little puncher watched his friend, just as a faithful
dog does his master. He asked no questions. In good time he knew he
would be told all it was necessary for him to know.

As they rode from the Bronx, Clay outlined the situation and told his
plans so far as he had any.

"So I'm goin' to take a whirl at it, Johnnie. Mebbe they're lyin' low
up in that house to get me. Mebbe the note's the real thing. You can
search me which it is. The only way to find out is to go through with
the thing. Yore job is to stick around in front of the hacienda and
wait for me. If I don't show up inside of thirty minutes, get the
police busy right away breakin' into the place. Do you get me,
Johnnie?"

"Lemme go with you into the house, Clay," the little man pleaded.

"No, this is a one-man job. If the note is straight goods I've got to
work on the Q.T. Do exactly as I say. That's how you can help me
best."

"What's the matter with me goin' into the house instead o' you? It
don't make no difference much if they do gun me. I'm jest the common
run of the pen. But you--you're graded stock," argued the Runt.

"Nothin' doin', old-timer. This is my job, and I don't reckon I'll let
anybody else tackle it. Much obliged, just the same. You're one
sure-enough white man, Johnnie."

The little fellow knew that the matter was settled. Clay had decided
and what he said was final. But Johnnie worried about it all the way.
At the last moment, when they separated at the street corner, he added
one last word.

"Don't you be too venturesome, son. If them guys got you it sure would
break me all up."

Clay smiled cheerfully. "They're not goin' to get me, Johnnie. Don't
forget to remember not to forget yore part. Keep under cover for
thirty minutes; then if I haven't shown up, holler yore head off for
the cops."

They were passin