lifted his face to the stars and
thought of his glorious moonlit camps on the Rio Perco sands, and the
sound of waterfalls was in his dreams.

"What am I here for?" he asked himself. "Why should I be watch-dog--me,
a wolf, a free ranger! Why should I be upholding the law? What's the law
to a tramp?"

Had it not been for a curious sense of loyalty to Hornaby, added to a
natural dislike of being called a quitter, he would have surrendered
his star and resumed his saddle. He owned a good horse once more and had
earned nearly two hundred dollars. "With my present outfit I can amble
clear across to Oregon," he assured himself, wistfully.

As he stood with uplifted face, dreaming of the mountains, Rosa Lemont
came down the street, and as she passed him said in a low voice: "Mink's
on the plaza--crazy drunk. Watch out!"

Kelley straightened and cast an unhurried glance around him. No one was
in sight but a group of cow-punchers tying their horses in front of a
saloon, and a few miners seated on the edge of the walk. Nevertheless,
he knew the girl had good reason for her warning, and so, after walking
a block or two in the opposite direction, he turned and came slowly back
up the main street till he reached Lemont's doorway, where he paused,
apparently interested in something across the street.

Rosa came from within and with equally well-simulated carelessness
leaned against the door-frame. "Mink's bug-house," she explained, "and
got a Winchester. He's just around the corner, waiting for you. He says
he's going to shoot you on sight." She stammered a little with
excitement, but her voice was low.

"Much obliged, Rosie," he replied, feelingly. "Don't worry. I may see
him first. And listen; while I have a chance I want to thank you for
pushing that screen onto him. It was a good job."

"That's all right," she answered, hastily. "But please be careful."

"Don't worry," he gravely replied. "I've beat him once and I can do it
again." And after a pause he added: "I reckon you're the only one that
cares what happens to me--but don't mix in this game, little one. Don't
do it."

A crowd had gathered in the street, with attention concentrated as if
for a dog-fight, and Kelley, pushing his way through the circle,
suddenly confronted Mink, who, as the object of interest, was busied in
rolling a cigarette, while his Winchester leaned against a post. To this
fact Kelley probably owed his life, for in the instant between the
gambl