ad man," said Webster, sententiously. "Wasn't a bit of good
in him. Gamblin', shootin', outlaw. Best job Buck ever done."

He found Mary Jane in the kitchen, singing over the supper dishes.

"Texas Rankin is dead over at San Marcial," he said, with the importance
of one communicating delectable news.

Mary Jane continued with her dishes, looking at her father over her
shoulder with a mild unconcern.

"At San Marcial?" she said wonderingly. "I didn't know he had left
Socorro!"

"A week now," returned Webster with much complacence. "Fired him from
Socorro for doin' that express job. Socorro's bad enough without
Texas----"

His mouth opened with dumb astonishment as Mary Jane whirled around on
him with a laugh on her lips.

"Why, dad! Texas Rankin didn't do that job! It was Buck Reible. Texas
told me the night it happened. We were walking down near the station and
we heard some shooting. I wasn't close enough to see plainly, but Texas
said he could recognize Buck by the flash of his gun. And so Texas is
dead!"

"I thought," said Webster feebly, "that you was pretty sweet on Texas."

"Sweet!" said Mary Jane, blushing with maidenly modesty. "Socorro is so
dull. A young lady must have some diversion."

"Then you don't care----"

"Why, dad! You old sobersides. To think--why I was only fooling with
him. It was fun to see how serious----"

"In that case----" began Webster. And then he went out and sat on the
front stoop.

Far into the night he sat, and always he stared in the direction of San
Marcial.

VII

BETWEEN FRIENDS

A Story of the Italian Quarter

By ADRIANA SPADONI

VINCENZA looked from the three crisp dollar bills to her husband, and
back again, wonderingly and with fear in her eyes.

"I understand nothing, Gino, and I am afraid. Perhaps it will bring the
sickness, the money--it is of the devil, maybe----"

Luigi laughed, but a little uneasily. "It is time, then, that the devil
went to paradise; he makes better for us than the saints, to whom you
pray so----"

"S-sh!" Vincenza crossed herself quickly. "That is a great wickedness."

Luigi picked up the bills, examining them closely. Apparently they were
good. Nevertheless he put them down again, and went on carving a wooden
cow for the little Carolina, with a puzzled look in his black eyes.

"Gino," Vincenza stopped undressing the baby suddenly when the thought
came to her. "Go thou and ask Biaggio. He has been many years in this