o induce
his brother to come home with him. Will Corliss, however, pleaded
weariness, and said that he would stay at the Palace until he felt
better.

"All right, Will. I'll leave some cash with Banks. He'll give you
what you need as you want it."

"Banks? The sheriff?"

"Yes."

"Oh, all right. Suppose you think I'm not to be trusted."

"No. But we'll leave it that way till I see you again. Write in if
you need me--and take care of yourself. When you get ready to settle
down, I'll turn over your share of the Concho to you. So long, Will."

Will Corliss watched his brother drive away. When the team had
disappeared up the road he walked down the street to the sheriff's
office. The sheriff greeted him cordially.

"I came for that money, Jim."

"Sure! Here you are," and the sheriff handed him a five-dollar
gold-piece.

"Quit kidding and come across," said Corliss, ignoring the significance
of the allowance.

"Can't, Will. John said to give you five any time you wanted it, but
only five a day."

"He did, eh? John's getting mighty close in his old age, ain't he?"

"Mebby. I don't know."

"How much did he leave for me?"

"Five a day, as I said."

"Oh, you go to hell!"

The sheriff smiled pleasantly. "Nope, Billy! I'm goin' to stay right
to home. Have a cigar?"

The young man refused the proffered cigar, picked up the gold-piece and
strolled out.

The sheriff leaned back in his chair. "Well if Billy feels that way
toward folks, reckon he won't get far with John, or anybody else. Too
dinged bad. He used to be a good kid."

CHAPTER VII

FADEAWAY'S HAND

Fadeaway, one of the Concho riders, urged his cayuse through the ford,
reined short, and turned to watch Chance, who accompanied him. The dog
drew back from the edge of the stream and bunching himself, shot up and
over the muddy water, nor did the jump break his stride as he leaped to
overtake the rider, who had spurred out of his way. Fadeaway cursed
joyously and put his pony to a lope. Stride for stride Chance ran
beside him. The cowboy, swaying easily, turned and looked down upon
the dog. Chance was enjoying himself. "Wonder how fast the cuss _can_
run?" And Fadeaway swung his quirt. The stride quickened to the
rhythmic beat of the cow-horse at top speed. The dog kept abreast
without apparent effort. A half-mile beyond the ford the pace
slackened as the pony took the hill across which the trail led to the
open