e over. He was settling down to enjoy
peace in his home, when a call for help made him forsake the security
which had been so hard to earn.

That security was unknown elsewhere in Cochise County. The strong men
who had seized the reins in Tombstone, wielding their power for their
own selfish ends, were gone; they had ridden away with warrants out
against them. The outlaw leaders were dead: John Ringo, Curly Bill,
the Clantons, and others who had swaggered where they willed, had met
violent ends.

With their passing the courts were trying to administer the statutes,
but the courts were impotent. The statutes were mere printed words.
For the rank and file of the bad men were raiding and murdering under
the guidance of new leaders who furnished them with food and
ammunition, notified them of the movements of the officers, procured
perjured witnesses to take the stand in their behalf, and bribed
jurymen.

Money and influence were taking the place of deadly weapons to uphold
a dynasty whose members reigned unseen and under cover, whose henchmen
looted express-cars, stole cattle, and murdered men on the highways,
until things had come to such a pass that President Arthur had issued
a proclamation threatening martial law in Southeastern Arizona.

And now the people of Tombstone, grown sick with blood and much
violence, called to John Slaughter to take the office of sheriff and
bring the law to them. It meant the abandonment of his herds just as
he was getting them well started, the putting aside of plans which he
had cherished through the years. But he answered the call and forsook
the San Bernardino ranch for the dingy little room beside the
court-house entrance. Before he had got fairly acquainted with the new
quarters war was on.

Cochise County was being used as a haven by bandits throughout the
Southwest. Four train-robbers fled hither from Mexico, where they had
looted an express-car and killed the messenger, soon after John
Slaughter's term began. He took his chief deputy, Bert Alvord, and
two others and followed their trail high into the Whetstone Mountains.
In the night-time the posse crawled through the brush and rocks to the
place where they had located the camp of the fugitives.

A man must leave many things to chance when it comes to choosing his
position in the dark, and it so happened that when dawn came the
sheriff and his deputy found themselves right under the nook where the
bandits were ensconced; th