and Leddy's hard, unyielding face.

What matter if the easy traveller could shoot? He was caught like a man
coming out of an alley. He had no chance to draw in turn. In the click of
a second-hand the thing would be over. Mary's eyes involuntarily closed,
to avoid seeing the flash from the revolver. She listened for the report;
for the fall of a body which should express the horror she had visualized
for the hundredth time. A century seemed to pass and there was no sound
except the beat of her heart, which ran in a cataract throb to her
temples; no sound except that and what seemed to be soft, regular steps
on the bare floor of the store.

"Coward!" she told herself, with the agony of her suspense
breaking. "He saved you from inexpressible humiliation and you are
afraid even to look!"

She opened her eyes, prepared for the worst. Had she gone out of her
head? Could she no longer trust her own eyesight? What she saw was
inconceivable. The startled faces of the loungers were rising from
behind the boxes and barrels. Pete Leddy's gun had dropped to his side
and his would-be victim had a hand on Pete's shoulder. Jack was talking
apparently in a kindly and reasoning tone, but she could not make out
his words.

One man alone evidently had not taken cover. It was Jim Galway, a
rancher, who had been standing at the mail counter. To judge by his
expression, what Jack was saying had his approval.

With a nod to Leddy and then a nod to the others, as if in amicable
conclusion of the affair, Jack wheeled around to the counter, disclosing