s helplessly in the great,
home-made chair near the corner, where stands the gun. His head is under
water.

"The true doctrines of a gentleman," snaps Dosson; and he throws out a
big hand toward the drooping head. "Old Blossom-nose!" Then turning to
Carrie. "The sheriff's a coming; he gave me that 'ere bill--yes, he did.
He's down to the grocery, now. He's going around to all the cabins, and
a-swearing 'em in a book, that they don't know nothing about John Logan.
The sheriff, he's a comin' here, Carats, right off."

There is a rift in the curtain, and the pitiful face of the fugitive
peers forth.

"The sheriff coming here!" He turns, feels the wall, and tries the logs
with his hands. Not a door, not a window. Solid as the solid earth.

"Coming here? But what is he coming here for?" demands Carrie.

"Coming here to find out what you know about John Logan. Oh, he's close
after him."

"Close after me!" gasps Logan. The man feels for something to lay hand
upon by which to defend himself. "I will not be taken alive; I will die
here!" He clutches at last, above the bed, a gun. "Saved, saved!" He
holds it tenderly, as if a child, or something dearly loved. He takes it
to the light and looks at the lock; he blows in the barrel; he
mournfully shakes his head. "It is not loaded! Well, no matter; I can
but die," and he clubs the gun and prepares for mortal battle.

"Oh, come, Carats," cries Gar Dosson, "let's have a little frolic before
the sheriff comes--a kiss, eh? Come, my beauty!"

The rough man has all this time been stealing up, as nearly as he could
to the girl, and now throws his arm about her neck.

"Shall I brain him--be a murderer, indeed?"

All the Indian is again aroused, and John Logan seems more terrible, and
more determined to save her than to defend his own life.

"Stand back!" shouts the Girl to Dosson. She attempts to throw him off,
but his powerful arm is about her neck. "Forty-nine! Help!" but the old
man is unconscious. John Logan is about to start from his corner.

"Take that, you brute! and that!" and Stumps whirls his club and
thunders against the ribs of the ruffian.

"You devil! you brat! what do you mean?"

Mad with disappointment and pain, he throws the girl from him, and turns
upon the boy. He clutches him by the back of the neck as he starts to
escape, and bears him to the ground.

"Look 'ere, do you know what I'm going to do with you? I'm going to
break your back across my knee! ye