being
slipped over the hand. It was utterly unlike any gauntlet in use in the
United States cavalry at the time; it was utterly unlike those for sale
in the stores of Cheyenne. Blake examined it curiously, but could
remember none that resembled it. Leaving the others examining the glove,
he walked up the row.

Mrs. Stannard and Marion both came down. The mere sight of his face
brought eagerness and hope into their eyes. It was to be observed at
this juncture that Mrs. Stannard's arm was around that slender waist.
The symptom has no significance, of course, among school-girls or
womanhood in general, but it meant a good deal where either one of these
women was concerned, and Blake knew it.

"What wouldn't I give if the major were only here!" he exclaimed,
impetuously. "There are three letters from Rallston there with a lot of
others, showing clearly what a conspiracy had been worked up against Ray
by that--by Gleason. The last one was written in Denver only two days
before--only three days ago, and it shows that he had completely gone
back on Gleason, and accuses him of all manner of blackguardly work. He
_had_ some conscience after all, for he swears he never thought Gleason
would use what he told him to get Ray into trouble. He was mad because
Ray wouldn't pass his horses. Oh, it breaks up the whole business! Green
thinks he should be secured at once, and is going to have the detectives
after him the moment we can telegraph. Whew! Excuse me, ladies, but I'm
warm!" And Blake leaned limply against the railing and mopped his brow.

"Mr. Blake, have you eaten a thing to-day?" asked Mrs. Stannard. "Do
come in and let me get you a sandwich and a glass of wine."

"Not a morsel! I want to hurry back to town to hug Billy. I'm only
waiting for Green. He tells me that everything can be arranged so that
Ray shall stay where I left him,--in a comfortable room in the jailor's
home instead of where that old bag of skin and bones thought he'd get
him." And he vengefully shook his fist at the colonel, who was returning
homeward to tell his wife the wonderful tidings of the discoveries in
Gleason's pockets. Mrs. Stannard had not smiled for two entire days, but
Blake's reviving spirits and the welcome news combined to bring back the
sunshine to her tired face. Marion, too, though listening in silence to
what was said, clung closer to her friend, and looked up with
thanksgiving in her eyes. Just then the lawyer and the little detective