were come to tar and feather him, and to get him away on his own horse.

Now he sprang to the front door, called to the approaching crowd for
help, then ran back to help O'Ryan. A moment later a dozen men had Vigon
secure, and had released Constantine Jopp, now almost dead from loss of
blood.

As they took the gag from his mouth and tied their handkerchiefs round
his bleeding wrists, Jopp sobbed aloud. His eyes were fixed on Terry
O'Ryan. Terry met the look, and grasped the limp hand lying on the
chair-arm.

"I'm sorry, O'Ryan, I'm sorry for all I've done to you," Jopp sobbed.
"I was a sneak, but I want to own it. I want to be square now. You can
tar and feather me, if you like. I deserve it." He looked at the
others. "I deserve it," he repeated.

"That's what the boys had thought would be appropriate," said Gow Johnson
with a dry chuckle, and the crowd looked at each other and winked. The
wink was kindly, however. "To own up and take your gruel" was the
easiest way to touch the men of the prairie.

A half-hour later the roisterers, who had meant to carry Constantine Jopp
on a rail, carried Terry O'Ryan on their shoulders through the town,
against his will. As they passed the house where Miss Mackinder lived
some one shouted:

"Are you watching the rise of Orion?"

Many a time thereafter Terry O'Ryan and Molly Mackinder looked at the