being fired at, broke her traces and galloped wildly
away -- Mexican Sam sent a ball neatly through the
fulness of Nancy Derwent's shooting jacket.
"Lie down -- lie down!" snapped Littlefield. "close
to the horse -- flat on the ground -- so." He almost
threw her upon the grass against the back of the recum-
bent Fly. Oddly enough, at that moment the words of
the Mexican girl returned to his mind:
"If the life of the girl you love is ever in danger, remem-
ber Rafael Ortiz."
Littlefield uttered an exclamation.
"Open fire on him, Nan, across the horse's back.
Fire as fast as you can! You can't hurt him, but keep
him dodging shot for one minute while I try to work a
little scheme."
Nancy gave a quick glance at Littlefield, and saw him
take out his pocket-knife and open it. Then she turned
her face to obey orders, keeping up a rapid fire at the
enemy.
Mexico Sam waited
patiently until this innocuous
fusillade ceased. He had plenty of time, and he did not
care to risk the chance of a bird-shot in his eye when
could be avoided by a little
caution. He pulled his
heavy Stetson low down over his face until the shots ceased.
Then he drew a little nearer, and fired with careful aim
at what he could see of his victims above the fallen horse.
Neither of them moved. He urged his horse a few
steps nearer. He saw the district
attorney rise to one
knee and
deliberately level his shotgun. He pulled his
hat down and awaited the
harmlessrattle of the tiny
pellets.
The shotgun blazed with a heavy report. Mexico
Sam sighed, turned limp all over, and slowly fell from
his horse -- a dead
rattlesnake.
At ten o'clock the next morning court opened, and the
case of the United States versus Rafael Ortiz was called.
The district
attorney, with his arm in a sling, rose and
addressed the court.
"May it please your honour," he said, "I desire to
enter a nolle pros. in this case. Even though the defend-
ant should be
guilty, there is not sufficient evidence in the
hands of the government to secure a
conviction. The
piece of
counterfeit coin upon the
identity of which the
case was built is not now
available as evidence. I ask,
therefore, that the case be
stricken off."
At the noon
recess Kilpatrick strolled into the district
attorney's office.
"I've just been down to take a squint at old Mexico
Sam," said the
deputy. "They've got him laid out.
Old Mexico was a tough
outfit, I
reckon. The boys
was wonderin' down there what you shot him with. Some
said it must have been nails. I never see a gun carry
anything to make holes like he had."
"I shot him," said the district
attorney, "with Exhibit
A of your
counterfeiting case. Lucky thing for me --
and somebody else -- that it was as bad money as it was!
It sliced up into slugs very
nicely. Say, Kil, can't you
go down to the jacals and find where that Mexican girl
lives? Miss Derwent wants to know."
A NEWSPAPER STORY
AT 8 A. M. it lay on Giuseppi's news-stand, still damp
from the presses. Giuseppi, with the
cunning of his ilk,
philandered on the opposite comer, leaving his patrons
to help themselves, no doubt on a theory
related to the
hypothesis of the watched pot.
This particular newspaper was, according to its custom
and design, an educator, a guide, a
monitor, a champion
and a household counsellor and vade mecum.
From its many excellencies might be selected three
editorials. One was in simple and
chaste but illuminat-
ing language directed to parents and teachers, depreca-
ting
corporalpunishment for children.
Another was an accusive and
significant warning
addressed to a
notorious labour leader who was on the
point of instigating his clients to a troublesome strike.
The third was an
eloquent demand that the police
force be sustained and aided in everything that tended
to increase its
efficiency as public guardians and servants.
Besides these more important chidings and requisitions
upon the store of good
citizenship was a wise prescription
or form of
procedure laid out by the editor of the heart-
to-heart
column in the
specific case of a young man who
had complained of the obduracy of his lady love, teaching
him how he might win her.
Again, there was, on the beauty page, a complete
answer to a young lady inquirer who desired admonition
toward the securing of bright eyes, rosy cheeks and a
beautiful countenance.
One other item requiring special cognizance was a
brief "personal,"
running thus:
DEAR JACK: -- Forgive me. You were right. Meet me
comer Madison and -th at 8.30 this morning. We
leave at noon.
PENITENT.
At 8 o'clock a young man with a
haggard look and the
feverish gleam of
unrest in his eye dropped a penny and
picked up the top paper as he passed Giuseppi's stand.
A
sleepless night had left him a late riser. There was
an office to be reached by nine, and a shave and a hasty
cup of coffee to be
crowded into the interval.
He visited his
barber shop and then
hurried on his
way. He pocketed his paper, meditating a belated
perusal of it at the
luncheon hour. At the next corner
it fell from his pocket, carrying with it his pair of new
gloves. Three blocks he walked, missed the gloves and
turned back fuming.
Just on the
half-hour he reached the corner where
lay the gloves and the paper. But he
strangely ignored
that which he had come to seek. He was holding
two little hands as
tightly as ever he could and looking
into two
penitent brown eyes, while joy rioted in his
heart.
"Dear Jack," she said, "I knew you would be here
on time."
"I wonder what she means by that," he was saying
to himself; "but it's all right, it's all right."
A big wind puffed out of the west, picked up the paper
from the
sidewalk, opened it out and sent it flying and
whirling down a side street. Up that street was driving
a skittish bay to a spider-wheel buggy, the young man
who had written to the heart-to-heart editor for a recipe
that he might win her for whom he sighed.
The wind, with a prankish flurry, flapped the flying
newspaper against the face of the skittish bay. There
was a lengthened
streak of bay mingled with the red of
running gear that stretched itself out for four blocks.