o the measures of some slow dance.

[Illustration: "DON'T COME ANY CLOSER. DON'T DO IT, I TELL YOU!"]

But the tempo changed abruptly. The desperado's back brought up against
the swinging kitchen door; it gave to his weight and decision was born
of that instant. With a cry he flung himself backward, the spring door
snapped to and swallowed him up with the speed of a camera shutter;
then followed the sound of his heavy rushing footsteps.

"Hell!" exclaimed the old man. "I had his buttons counted!" With the
words he let fall his overcoat, and there, beneath it, Gray beheld what
he had more than half suspected, what indeed was ample cause for the
quarrelsome stranger's apprehension. Held close to the owner's body was
what in the inelegant jargon of the West is known as a "dog leg." The
weapon, a frontier Colt's of heavy caliber, was full cocked under the
old man's thumb; the hand holding it was as steady as the blazing eyes
above.

With a smile Gray said, "Allow me to congratulate you, sir, upon a most
impressive demonstration of the power of mind over matter."

"A little killin' helps those scoun'rels," breathed the white-haired
warrior. "Surgin' around, wreakin' vengeance on vinegar bottles! And me
with a bad indigestion!"

"I don't often permit others to do my fighting. But you wouldn't let--"

"I don't allow anybody--" doggedly began the former speaker, but the
street door burst open, a noisy crowd poured into the room, a volley of
excited questions was raised. Amid the confusion Gray heard his own
name shouted, and found himself set upon by two agitated friends,
Mallow and Stoner. They had been combing Newtown for him, so they
declared, and were near by when attracted by the excitement on the
sidewalk. What was the trouble? Was Gray hurt?

He assured them that he was not, and explained in a few words the
origin of the encounter. But other concerns, it seemed, occupied the
minds of the pair, and before he had finished Mallow was dragging him
towards the door, crying, breathlessly: "Gee, Governor! You gave us a
run. We've been coming since noon."

"It was only by the grace of God," Stoner declared, "that we heard you
were out here and why you'd come. We managed to get a phone call
through to Jackson, but it was--"

"Jackson? I've been looking for him all the afternoon."

"Sure! Mallow swore he was all right, but Mac and I don't know him, and
we figured he might turn a trick. Anyhow, Mallow and I jumped the