r-window, and his expression
was so gloomy that the others could not restrain a laugh.

"Cheer up, old man," said Barton. "Four more hours and we are in
Grayville; just think of that wonderful hotel, with its more wonderful
beds and its yet more wonderful kitchen."

The hotel was all that they either expected or hoped, and the dawn
brought a beautiful Sunday, disclosing a pretty little frontier city
with its green, irrigated valley on one side and the brown mountains,
like a protecting wall, on the other. Harley slept late, and after
breakfast came out upon the veranda to enjoy the luxury of a
rocking-chair, with the soft October air around him and the majesty of
the mountains before him. He hoped to find Sylvia there, but neither she
nor any of the ladies was present. Instead, there was a persistent,
inquiring spirit abroad which would not let him rest, and this spirit
belonged to Hobart, the "mystery" man.

Harley had not been enjoying the swinging ease of the rocking-chair five
minutes before Hobart, the light of interest in his eyes, pounced upon
him.

"Harley, old fellow," he exclaimed, "this is the first place we've
struck in which Jimmy Grayson is not the overwhelming attraction."

"The hanging, I suppose," said Harley, carelessly.

"Of course. What else could there be? It occurred to me last night, when
I was reading the paper, that I might scare up a feature or two in the
case, and I was out of my bed early this morning to try. It was a
forlorn hope, I'll admit, but anything was better than nothing, and I've
had my reward. I've had my reward, old fellow!"

He chuckled outright in his glee. Harley smiled. Hobart always
interested and amused him. The instinctive way in which he unfailingly
rose to a "case" showed his natural genius for that sort of thing.

"I haven't seen Boyd yet," continued Hobart, excitedly, "but I've found
out this much already--there are people in Grayville who believe Boyd
innocent. It is true that he and Wofford--the murdered man--had been
quarrelling in Grayville, and Boyd was taken at the shanty with the
blood-stained knife in his hand; but that doesn't settle it."

Harley could not restrain an incredulous laugh. "It seems to me those
two circumstances, omitting the other proof, are pretty convincing," he
said.

Hobart flushed. "You just wait until I finish," he said, somewhat
defiantly. "Now Boyd, as I have learned, was a good-hearted, generous
young fellow. The quarrel amou