She looked helplessly into his face. "You--you don't like him," she

faltered; "I know you don't. But--but you will help him, won't you,

for my sake?"

He crushed back an oath. "Like him or not like him, I will save him if

it be in the power of man. Now will you go?"

"Yes," she answered, and suddenly extended her arms. "Kiss me first."

With the magical pressure of her lips upon his, he swung into the

saddle and spurred down the road. It was a principle of his military

training never to temporize with a mob--he would strike hard, but he

must have sufficient force behind him. He reined up before the

seemingly deserted camp, his horse flung back upon its haunches, white

foam necking its quivering flanks.

"Sergeant!" The sharp snap of his voice brought that officer forward

on the run. "Where are the men?"

"Playin' ball, most of 'em, sir, just beyond the ridge."

"Are the horses out in herd?"

"Yes, sir."

"Sound the recall; arm and mount every man; bring them into Glencaid on

the gallop. Do you know the old Shasta mine?"

"No, sir."

"Half-way up the hill back of the hotel. You 'll find me somewhere in

front of it. This is a matter of life or death, so jump lively now!"

He drove in his spurs, and was off like the wind. A number of men were

in the street, all hurrying forward in the same direction, but he

dashed past them. These were miners mostly, eager to have a hand in

the man-hunt. Here and there a rider skurried along and joined in the

chase. Just beyond the hotel, half-way up the hill, rifles were

speaking irregularly, the white puffs of smoke blown quickly away by

the stiff breeze. Near the centre of this line of skirmishers a denser

cloud was beginning to rise in spirals. Brant, perceiving the largest

group of men gathered just before him, rode straight toward them. The

crowd scattered slightly at his rapid approach, but promptly closed in

again as he drew up his horse with taut rein. He looked down into

rough, bearded faces. Clearly enough these men were in no fit spirit

for peace-making.

"You damn fool!" roared one, hoarsely, his gun poised as if in threat,

"what do you mean by riding us down like that? Do you own this

country?"

Brant flung himself from the saddle and strode in front of the fellow.

"I mean business. You see this uniform? Strike that, my man, and you

strike the United States. Who is leading this outfit?"




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