ed. He felt anything but sleepy, so he tiptoed
downstairs again and out into the night. He found Buck Hardy in a saloon
up the street. Men in the saloon joked with Lorry about his capture. He
seldom drank, but to-night he did not refuse Hardy's invitation to
"have something." While they were chatting a rider from the Starr Rancho
came in. Edging up to Lorry, he touched his arm. "Come on out a minute,"
he whispered.

Outside, he told Lorry that High Chin, with several of the men, was
coming to town that night and "put one over" on the sheriff by stealing
the prisoner.

"And you know what that means," said the Starr cowboy. "High Chin'll get
tanked, and the hobo'll be lucky if the boys don't string him up. High
Chin's awful sore about something."

Lorry's first idea was to report all this to Buck Hardy. But he feared
ridicule. What if the Starr cowboys didn't come?

"Why don't you tell Buck yourself?" he queried.

His companion insisted that he dare not tell the sheriff. If High Chin
heard that he had done so, he would be out of a job. And there was the
reward. If the prisoner's identity was proven, Lorry would get the
reward. The cowboy didn't want to see Lorry lose such easy money.

The subject seemed to require some liquidation, and Lorry finally
decided that he himself was the only and legal custodian of the
prisoner. As for the reward--shucks! He didn't want blood-money. But
High Chin would never lay a hand on the hobo if he could help it.

* * * * *

Alice Weston, anticipating a real ride into the desert country and the
hills, was too excited to sleep. She drew a chair to the window, and sat
back where she could view the vague outline of the hills and a world
filled with glowing stars. The town was silent, save for the occasional
opening or closing of a door and the infrequent sound of feet on the
sidewalk. She forgot the hazards of the day in dreaming of the West; no
longer a picture out of books, but a reality. She scarcely noticed the
quiet figure that came round the opposite corner and passed into the
shadows of the jail across the street. She heard the clink of a chain
and a sharp, tearing sound as of wood being rent asunder. She peered
from her window, trying to see what was going on in the shadows.

Presently a figure appeared. The hat, the attitude, and manner seemed
familiar. Then came another figure; that of the tramp. She grew tense
with excitement. She heard Lorry