you send in your entry? I believe
we've got it here, somewhere." He began to fumble industriously through
a pile of papers and Denver caught his breath. For a moment he had seen
his dreams brought to nothing, his last chance at the prize-money gone;
but at this tentative suggestion on the part of the chairman he suddenly
took heart of grace. They wanted him to compete, it had been advertised
in all the papers, and they were willing to meet him half-way. But
Denver was no liar, he shook his head and sighed, then turned back at a
sudden thought.

"Maybe Tom Owen made the entry?" he burst out eagerly, "he was over to
see me, you know."

"That was it!" exclaimed the chairman as if clutching at a straw, "say,
where is that blank of theirs, Joe?"

"Search me," answered Joe, "it's around here, somewhere. Oh, I know!"
And he went out into the back room. "Ain't this it?" he inquired
returning with a paper and the chairman snatched it away from him.

"Yes," he said, "how'd it get out there? Well, no matter--that's all
right, Mr. Russell!"

"No it ain't!" blurted out Meacham making a grab for the paper; but the
chairman struck away his hand.

"You keep out of this!" he said. "What d'ye think you're trying to do?
You keep out or I'll put you out!"

"It's a flim-flam!" raged Meacham, "you're trying to job me. He never
made no entry."

"I never claimed to," retorted Denver boldly and Meacham turned on him,
his pig eyes blazing with fury.

"I'll fix you, for this!" he burst out hoarsely, "I'll get you if I have
to kill you. You robbed me once, but you won't do it again; so I give
you fair warning--pull out!"

"You robbed _me_!" came back Denver, "and these boys all know it.
But I fought you fair for the whole danged roll----"

"You did naht!" howled Meacham, "you had a feller with ye----"

"Well, I'll fight you right now, then," volunteered Denver
accommodatingly but the Slogger did not put up his hands.

"That's all right," he said backing sullenly away, "but remember what I
told you--I'll git ye!"

"You'll git nothing!" returned Denver and laughed him out the door,
though there were others who muttered warnings in his ears. Slogger
Meacham was a fighter as well as a driller and his flight with the
prize-money was not the first time that he had lapsed from the ways of
strict rectitude. He had killed a man during the riots at Goldfield and
had been involved in several ugly brawls; but his record as a bad man
did no