bulge in a pocket attracted him; it proved to be a pack of cards. The possessor's face did not alter, but his voice was sullen when he explained:
'I took them from a gambler.'
The road-agent had squared the pack up on the palm of his hand, delicately, using the tips of his fingers only.
'Mebbe--it's a 'cold deck' anyways,' he said. 'We'll give it the 'loser's shuffle.''
With a vigorous sweep of his arm he flung the pack skyward, scattering the cards far and wide, and then resumed his investigation. Another bulge produced a fat roll of bills, at the sight of which the searcher gave vent to a throaty laugh.
'Also took from a gambler, with the help o' the pack an' the pistol, I'm bettin',' he commented.
'It ain't mine; that's money collected for those in need,' the passenger protested, but his face was flushed and there was an evil glare in his eyes.
The road-agent laughed again. 'It has shorely reached its destination, for I'm one of 'em, brother, an' I'm thankin' yu,' he jeered. Then, as he read the expression on the other's face, his own voice took on an ugly edge. 'Yu lyin' rat,' he grated. 'Did yu think yu could put it over me? Don't yu reckon I know a tin-horn cardsharp when I see one?'
'Damn yu, I'll get yu for this--I'll hunt yu down,' screamed the 'minister,' and, beside himself at the loss of his money, he sprang at the outlaw.
Like a piston-rod the stranger's fist shot out and the man in black, driven headlong into the dust, lay there mouthing curses and threats. The masked man shrugged his shoulders contemptuously and turned to the other passengers.
'A poor loser,' he commented. 'Seein' yu boys ain't put up a yap, yu can keep yore pickin's.' He swung up into the saddle. 'All set, driver,' he called. 'Get agoin' when you want to, but I'll be with yu for a while though yu won't see me, an' I'm tellin' yu not to hurry. Sabe?'
'No need to hurry now,' Eames retorted, and with another laugh the hold-up trotted round a bend and vanished in a thicket which bordered the trail.
Despite the parting threat the driver wasted no time. Lifting the body of the messenger, he tied it securely on the top of the coach, and then ordered his passengers aboard.
Having finished his arrangements, he clambered to his seat and cracked his long-lashed whip over the heads of the team. With a jerk that nearly threw the occupants from their places the coach resumed its interrupted journey. Only a few scattered cards and a broken cigar-box marked the spot where a man had died doing his duty.
CHAPTER II
How the town came to be called Lawless was not certainly known. A few of the dwellers therein, actuated by astonishing loyalty, claimed that it was christened after the first settler, while others, cynical citizens devoid of any proper pride in the place, held the name to be the fortunate fluke of one who could see into the future. The reputation of Lawless as one of the toughest towns in the territory undoubtedly supported this view.
In appearance it was typical of a hundred other early Western settlements--two jagged rows of crude erections facing one another across a wide strip of wheel-rutted, hoof-pounded dust. The buildings, squat, unlovely, were of timber or 'dobe, with a sprinkling of sod-walled and roofed dugouts, set in a sea of tin cans and other refuse. Along the front of these ran boarded sidewalks for pedestrians, and outside the saloons and stores hitch- rails were provided.
Sordid as it seemed. Lawless was yet the hub round which the life of the neighbouring ranches revolved, for the only other town within reasonable reach was Sweetwater, thirty miles eastward, from whence the traveller must take the coach north for the nearest railway point and civilization. Flung haphazard into the middle of a little plain, the site seemed unsuitable for a settlement, and yet it was not. The surrounding open country provided space and feed for occasional trail-herds and there was good water in the shape of Squaw Creek, which came down from the Tepee Mountain some six miles northwards.
That men lived there was known, and that was all. From time to time a stranger would drift into Lawless about dark, load up a pack-horse with supplies, sample the relaxations the town had to offer, and vanish before dawn. Lawless asked no questions, taking the custom thankfully and minding its own business in strict accordance with the Western etiquette of that day.
Twenty-four hours after the robbery of the stage five men rode silently into Lawless and pulled up outside the Red Ace, the largest and most pretentious of the town's saloons. The visitors were cowpunchers, and the oldest, who appeared to be the leader, had the white metal star of a sheriff pinned to his vest. The first to dismount stretched himself with a sigh of relief.
'Seems like we bin ridin' a week,' he said.
Four of the party vanished through the door of the saloon with all speed. Their leader laughed too, but remained outside, looking curiously at the form of a man sprawled carelessly across the sidewalk a few yards away. He could not see the face, for the big hat was tilted forward to keep off the glare of the sun, but from his build he judged the wearer to be young. The long legs stretched out before him, and the wide shoulders slumped against the saloon wall, seemed to indicate youth. The unknown was dressed in well-worn range-rig, and the holsters on either side of his sagging belt were empty.
'Canned, an' sleepin' it off,' muttered the sheriff. 'Hocked his guns too, durn young fool.'
With a shrug of his broad shoulders he followed his men, failing to note the keen, appraising look which the object of his good-humoured contempt shot after him. He found his companions already draped against the bar, each cuddling a glass. They welcomed him effusively.
'Hey, Strade, ain't yu thirsty no more? What's bin keepin' yu?' asked one.
'Stopped to scrape the mud off'n my boots,' the sheriff grinned, with a glance at his dust-laden feet, and then, to the bartender, ' 'Lo, Jude, how's tricks?'
'Town's 'bout dead since the spring round-up,' the dispenser of drinks told him, pushing forward a bottle and glass. 'Never knowed it so quiet.'
'Ca'm before the storm, mebbe,' Strade said. 'Yore marshal must be havin' quite a rest.'
'Shore is--we planted him a week back,' Jude explained. 'That's three we've lost in less'n six months.'
'Yo're mighty careless with marshals, ain't yu?' was Strade's comment. 'Filled the vacancy yet?'
'Nope. There's bin no rush that yu'd notice,' Jude grinned. 'Bein' marshal in thisyer man's town ain't no pastime.'
Jude swabbed down the bar, mentally comparing the man. before him with the late marshal of Lawless, and not to the latter's advantage. Strade's shortish, square, powerful frame and his rugged, good-humoured face with the clipped grey moustache indicated force and determination mingled with a sense of justice. He was both feared and liked in Sweetwater, where he had been sheriff for some years.
'Bin hearin' from the boys 'bout the stage robbery,' the bartender remarked. 'Sudden again, huh?'
'He named hisself, 'cordin' to Eames, an' the description o' the hoss tallies with that o' the chap who held up Sands, the Sweetwater store-keeper, a month back,' the sheriff said. 'Who's that fella layin' on the sidewalk?'
'Stray cowpunch, drifted in a coupla days ago,' Jude told him. 'Lapped up every cent he had an' hocked his artillery to get more. I had to throw him out this mornin' when he showed hostile.'
'What sorta hoss does he ride?'
'Black--ain't a white hair on him. He can't be yore man, Strade, he ain't left town for forty-eight hours, nor drawed a sober breath neither. Yu won't find Sudden here.'
'No strangers in town, eh?'
'On'y the specimen outside,' Jude replied. 'An', as I told yu, he's bin wedded to this bar pretty constant.'
Meanwhile the 'specimen' was arousing attention in another quarter. Soon after the sheriff had entered the saloon, a girl emerged from a store and tripped along the sun-drenched, sordid street. She walked with the easy swinging stride indicative of robust health and an outdoor life. Her neat shirt-waist and short divided skirt set off her slim figure to advantage. She pulled up abruptly when she came to the lounger on the sidewalk. For a moment she regarded the obstacle disgustedly and was about to step over it when a sudden decision firmed her pretty lips.
'I suppose I have to take the road,' she said aloud.
At the cool, clear voice, the recumbent stranger opened his eyes, and under the brim of his hat saw a neat
