that sneering, sinister face with the plot.

"Who swore out that warrant?"

"I did, if you need to know," a sarcastic smile revealing a gleam of white
teeth, "on the affidavit of others, friends of mine."

"Who are you?"

"I'm mostly called 'Black Bart.'"

That was it; he had the name now--"Black Bart." He straightened up so
quickly, his eyes blazing, that the marshal jerked his gun clear.

"See here, Jack," shortly, "are yer goin' to raise a row, or come along
quiet?"

As though the words had aroused him from a bad dream, Keith turned to
front the stern, bearded face.

"There'll be no row, Bob," he said, quietly. "I'll go with you."




Chapter IV

An Old Acquaintance