ine for
the centrally located court-house; and, no longer doubtful of their
purpose, Ben left the window, fairly tumbled downstairs, and rushed
through the now deserted office into the equally deserted street.

The court-house square was but two blocks away; but the mob had a good
lead, and when the youth arrived he found the space within the
surrounding chain fence fairly covered. Where the people could all have
come from struck him even at that moment as a mystery. Certainly all
told the town could not in itself have mustered half the number.
Elbowing his way among them, however, he began soon to understand. Here
and there among the mass he caught sight of familiar faces,--Russell of
the Circle R Ranch, Stetson of the "XI," each taking no part, but with
hats slouched low over their eyes watching every movement of the drama.
Passing around a jam he could not press through, Ben felt a detaining
hand upon his arm, and turning, he was face to face with Grannis. The
grip of the overseer tightened.

"I've been looking for you, Blair," he said, "I know what you've been
trying to do, but most of the crowd don't and won't. They're ugly. You'd
better keep back."

For answer Ben eyed the cowboy squarely.

"I thought I left you in charge of the ranch," he said evenly.

The weather-stained face of the foreman reddened in the shifting lantern
light, but the eyes did not drop.

"I have been. I just got here." A dignity which well became him spoke in
the steady voice. "I had a reason for coming."

Ben released his gaze.

"The others are here too?"

"No, they're all at the ranch. Graham and I attended to that."

"I just saw Russell and Stetson. They couldn't possibly have got here
to-day from home. Has--has this been planned?"

Grannis nodded. "Yes. Kennedy and his gang have been watching here and
at the ranch for days. They thought you'd show up at one place or the
other. The whole country is out. There are lots of strangers here, from
ranches I never heard of before. Seems as though everybody knew Rankin
and heard of his being shot. You'd better let them have it their way.
It'll amount to the same in the end, and death itself couldn't stop them
now."

He took a step forward; for Ben, understanding all, had at last moved
on.

"Blair!" he called after him, again extending a detaining hand. His
voice took on a new note--intimate, personal, a tone of which no one
would have thought it capable. "Blair, listen to me! Stop