elations concerning the person with the black eye."

"And could you not convince Mrs. Milner of the truth of the affair?" I
asked.

"Tried to--tried hard--but she did not believe me; or, at least, said
she did not."

"And did you ever see the interesting widow again?"

"Many times--but she never saw me!"

We smoked, silently--he, straight-faced and reminiscent, I, smiling
over the story he had told.

"May I tell this experience to the girl over yonder?" I asked.

"Well, yes; but, as I never told my wife, put the girl on her honor not
to repeat it. It may help you in your adjustment of your married life;
it may convince her that a man can be trusted out of his home."

THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE

Two men walked side by side down the steps of the Criminal Court
Building. They were dressed in "store clothes"; and, while they were
alike in type, yet they were unlike: one could not be mistaken for the
other. But they had the same facial angle; they were of about the same
age, thirty-five; each was tall, square-shouldered, and erect, and each
had the same curious gait that betokens long experience in the saddle.
The man to the right had gray eyes; the one to the left black. The one
to the right was jubilant of face; the other downcast and chagrined. As
they reached the sidewalk a man hurried out of the crowd and confronted
them. His face was perspiring, and he breathed hard.

"I've got you, Bill!" he said, laying his hand on the shoulder of the
downcast man to the left. "You're my prisoner!"

"Not much, he isn't!" answered the man to the right. "He's mine. Here's
proof." He half turned, disclosing the butt of a large pistol under his
coat.

"Oh, I've got that kind of proof, too," rejoined the newcomer, stepping
back and eying them with anger and disgust in his face. It was a face
that must have been unused to such emotional expressions; it was smooth
shaved, pink, and healthy, with keen blue eyes, the face of a man not
yet grown up, or of a boy matured before his time. He was of about the
same age, size, and build as the other two, and with the same
horseman's gait.

"Who are you," he asked, "and what have you got that man for?"

"I'm Jack Quincy, Deputy Sheriff of Maricopa County, Arizona; and I've
got this man, Bill Rogers, for stage robbery. Who are you?"

"I'm Walter Benson, of the Northwest Mounted Police, and I want this
man for murder. I've just come from Washington with extradition papers,
and I don