followed him. Waring's door
closed. He undressed and went to bed. He had been asleep but a few
minutes when some one rapped on the door. He asked who it was. He was
told to open in the name of the city of Sonora. He rose and dressed
quickly.

When he opened the door two Sonora policemen told him to put up his
hands. Donovan stood back of them, chewing a cigar. One of the policemen
took Waring's gun. The other searched the room. Evidently he did not
find what he sought.

"When you get through," said Waring, eyeing Donovan grimly, "you might
tell me what you're after."

"I'm after that thousand," said Donovan.

"Oh! Well, why didn't you say so? Just call in Stanley, of the bank. His
room is opposite."

Donovan hesitated. "Stanley's got nothing to do with this."

"Hasn't he?" queried Waring. "Call him in and see."

One of the police knocked at Stanley's door.

The bank cashier appeared, rubbing his eyes. "Hello, Bill! Hello, Jim!
What's the fuss?"

"Stanley, did I deposit a thousand dollars in gold to the credit of the
Ortez Mine this afternoon?"

"You did."

"Just show Donovan here the receipt I asked you to keep for me."

"All right. I'll get it."

Donovan glanced at the receipt. "Pretty smooth," he muttered.

Waring smiled. His silence enraged Donovan, who motioned to the police
to leave the room.

Waring interrupted. "My gun?" he queried mildly.

One of the police handed the gun to Waring.

Their eyes met. "Why, hello, Pedro!" And Waring's voice expressed
innocent surprise. "When did you enroll as a policeman?"

Donovan was about to interrupt when the policeman spoke: "That is my
business."

"Which means Bill here has had you sworn in to-day. Knew you would like
to get a crack at me, eh? You ought to know better, Salazar."

"Come on!" called Donovan.

The Mexicans followed him down the hallway.

Waring thanked Stanley. "It was a frame-up to get me, Frank," he
concluded. "Pedro Salazar would like the chance, and as a policeman he
could work it. You know that old game--resisting arrest."

"Doesn't seem to worry you," said Stanley.

"No. I'm leaving town. I'm through with this game."

"Getting too hot?"

"No. I'm getting cold feet," said Waring, laughing. "And say, Stanley,
I may need a little money to-morrow."

"Any time, Jim."

Waring nodded. Back in his room he sat for a while on the edge of the
bed, gazing at the curtained window. Life had gone stale. He was sick of
hunting men