FARRISS.


The girl folded the message, thrust it in her jacket-pocket, then
turning to the marshal and Westcott, gave each a firm hand.

"You've both been more than kind," she said gratefully.

"Hell, ma'am," Dan deprecated, "that warn't nothin'!" And he hurried
into the street as loud cries sounded outside.

"Good night, Miss Donovan," Westcott said simply. "If you are ever
frightened or in need of a friend, call on me. I'll be in town two
days yet, and after that Pete here can get word to me." Then, with an
admiring, honest gaze, he searched her eyes a moment before he turned
and strolled toward the rude cigar-case.

"All right, now, ma'am?" Pete Timmons said, picking, up her valise.
The girl nodded, and together they went up the rude stairs to her room
where Timmons paused at the door.

"Well, I'm glad you're here," he said, moving away. "We've been
waitin' for you to show. I may be wrong, ma'am, but I'd bet my belt
that you're the lady that's been expected by Ned Beaton."

"You're mistaken," she replied shortly.

As she heard him clatter down the stairs, Miss Stella Donovan of the
New York _Star_ knew that her visit would not be in vain.