ew didn't
get over her dyin'. He ain't over it yet, and goes out to the old place
every month or so to potter around the grave and keep the grass and the
weeds off of it and clean the head-stone."

The candle guttered wildly on the floor. It had burnt almost to the wood
and now the remnant of the wick stood in a little sprawling pool of
grease white at the outer edges.

Bard yawned, and patted idly the blanket where it touched on the shape
of the revolver beneath. In another moment that candle would gutter out
and they would be left in darkness.

He said: "That's the best yarn I've heard in a good many days; it's
enough to make any one sleepy--so here goes."

And he turned deliberately on his side.

Nash, his eyes staring with incredulity, sat up slowly among his
blankets and his hand stole up toward the noose of the lariat. A light
snore reached him, hardly a snore so much as the heavy intake of breath
of a very weary, sleeping man; yet the hand of Nash froze on the lariat.

"By God," he whispered faintly to himself, "he ain't asleep!"

And the candle flared wildly, leaped, and shook out.

CHAPTER XXI

THE SWIMMING OF THE SAVERACK

Over the face of Nash the darkness passed like a cold hand and a colder
sense of failure touched his heart; but men who have ridden the range
have one great power surpassing all others--the power of patience. As
soundlessly as he had pushed himself up the moment before, he now
slipped down in the blankets and resigned himself to sleep.

He knew that he would wake at the first hint of grey light and trusted
that after the long ride of the day before his companion would still be
fast asleep. That half light would be enough for his work; but when he
roused while the room was still scarcely more visible than if it were
filled with a grey fog, he found Bard already up and pulling on his
boots.

"How'd you sleep?" he growled, following the example of the tenderfoot.

"Not very well," said the other cheerily. "You see, that story of yours
was so vivid in my mind that I stayed awake about all night, I guess,
thinking it over."

"I knew it," murmured Nash to himself. "He was awake all the time. And
still-----"

If that thrown noose of the lariat had settled over the head and
shoulders of the sham sleeper it would have made no difference whether
he waked or slept--in the end he would have sat before William Drew tied
hand and foot. If that noose had not settled? The picture