But the dramatic appeal he had anticipated was not made. The Pearl,
after one recall after another, had thrown a final kiss to her
appreciative audience, had retired to her dressing room and positively
refused to appear again.

The sheriff sat down limply for a moment. "I'm beat," he said to the man
who had shared his fears, "just beat. The Lord is sure on our side
to-night. Gosh! They had the whole thing in their own hands and didn't
know it. Well, the rest is pie. All we got to do is to take 'em all nice
an' quiet now, and probably not a gun drawed." He moved about giving his
orders to different men about the hall.

Slowly the good-humored, laughing crowd filed out. The presence of the
sheriff and the various deputies aroused no suspicion. It was but
natural that any one who could get there from the surrounding camps
should be present.

About half of the people had passed through the narrow door when Pearl
made her appearance at the back of the hall. She had thrust her arms
into a long, fur-lined crimson cloak, but it fell open from the neck
down, revealing her crimson and gold frock and gleaming emeralds. A
black lace mantilla was thrown over her head and half over her face,
showing only her sparkling eyes. She began taking various gay, little
steps, still full of that joy of movement which had possessed her all
evening.

Those who remained in the hall began to laugh and applaud. She danced a
moment in response to it, and then, pausing, suddenly bowed low and
shook her head definitely. Then she wrapped her cloak closely about her,