water.

Once during the afternoon a convict tried a shot at a crack between the
posts barricading the window. The bullet passed through, missing
Ritter's head by a scant two inches. The former outlaw never winced
but began singing mockingly, "Teasing, teasing, I was only teasing you."

A perfect storm of bullets answered his taunt.

"The rascals don't appreciate good singing," he said with a grin.

Charley's condition continued to steadily improve under the outlaw's
careful ministrations and by nightfall, he was conscious once more and
comparatively free from pain.

Night brought no change in the condition of the besieged. Watches were
arranged as on the night before, and those off duty retired as soon as
darkness had fallen.

"Do you believe in premonitions," asked Ritter, gravely, as he and
Walter stood peering out of the windows. "Do you believe that coming
events cast their shadows before them?"

"I hardly know," answered Walter, thoughtfully, "sometimes I almost
believe that we are given warnings of coming events, but I can never
quite convince myself that the happenings confirming, for instance, say
a dream, are anything more than coincidences."

"A few days ago I would have laughed at such an idea, but all day I
have had a vague presentiment of coming evil which I have found
impossible to shake off," explained his companion.

"It's your liver, I dare say," said Walter cheerfully, "for my part, I
feel that we are going to get out of this hole all right, and live
happy ever after as the story books say."

"There can be but little happiness for me in the future, however, if we
come out of this affair," said his companion sorrowfully. "Death, I
sometimes think, would be the best thing that could befall me. I am a
life convict, you remember, found guilty by a jury, and condemned to
pass a life at hard, degrading labor in company with ruffians of the
lowest, most debased type. It is not a future to look forward to with
pleasure!"

Walter remained silent, he could not but admit the truth of the man's
words and reflect upon the misery of such a life would naturally bring
to a man of education and refinement like this one. "You might escape,
go to some other state, and begin life anew," he at last suggested.
"After what you have done for us, and believing you innocent as we now
do, we should do all we could to help you to get away."

"The life of a fugitive would be worse than that of a convict,"
de