the cowboy as he backed through the door. "Some people are awfully
careless," he added. "So long--"

"So long," replied the sheriff, wondering what sort of a man he had been
entertaining.

The door closed softly and soon after a joyous whoop floated in from
the Street. The sheriff toyed with the new gun and listened to the low
caress of a distant guitar.

"Well, don't that beat all?" He ejaculated.

CHAPTER IX. The Advent of McAllister

The blazing sun shone pitilessly on an arid plain which was spotted
with dust-gray clumps of mesquite and thorny chaparral. Basking in the
burning sand and alkali lay several Gila monsters, which raised their
heads and hissed with wide-open jaws as several faint, whip-like reports
echoed flatly over the desolate plain, showing that even they had
learned that danger was associated with such sounds.

Off to the north there became visible a cloud of dust and at intervals
something swayed in it, something that rose and fell and then became
hidden again. Out of that cloud came sharp, splitting sounds, which were
faintly responded to by another and larger cloud in its rear. As it came
nearer and finally swept past, the Gilas, to their terror, saw a madly
pounding horse, and it carried a man. The latter turned in his saddle
and raised a gun to his shoulder and the thunder that issued from it
caused the creeping audience to throw up their tails in sudden panic and
bury themselves out of sight in the sand.

The horse was only a broncho, its sides covered with hideous yellow
spots, and on its near flank was a peculiar scar, the brand. Foam
flecked from its crimsoned jaws and found a resting place on its sides
and on the hairy chaps of its rider. Sweat rolled and streamed from its
heaving flanks and was greedily sucked up by the drought-cursed alkali.
Close to the rider's knee a bloody furrow ran forward and one of the
broncho's ears was torn and limp. The broncho was doing its best--it
could run at that pace until it dropped dead. Every ounce of strength it
possessed was put forth to bring those hind hoofs well in front of
the forward ones and to send them pushing the sand behind in streaming
clouds. The horse had done this same thing many times--when would its
master learn sense?

The man was typical in appearance with many of that broad land. Lithe,
sinewy and bronzed by hard riding and hot suns, he sat in his Cheyenne
saddle like a centaur, all his weight on the heavy, leather-gu