Beadle's New York Dime Library (no. 983) (1897 08 25)

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Copy righted, 1897, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, ENTERED AS SECOND CLASS MATTER AT THE NEW YORK, N. Y., Post OFFICE. August 25, 1897, / No. 989, PUBLISHED EVERY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, TEN CENTS A COPY * Vol, LEX LOT WEDNESDAY, 92 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK, €5.00 A YEAR. kip (Ove KRIS, _€-OF HARD PAN CAMP. be i} Wy iN y a> = ACRY aii ‘ \ - SSS \ | OUT SHOT THE PRISONEKS LEFT, AND MR. PETEK GRIMES GOT IT SQUARELY IN THE NECK,

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——————— > ' == Copyrighted, 1897, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, ENTERED AS SECOND CLASS MATTER AT THE New YORE, N. Y., Post OFFrics. ‘ August 25, 1897. \-———_—__—— e Femitars vs Se ee eeraee es SEAT 5 : . eR A i Ps — — No 983 PUBLISHED EVERY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, TEN CENTS A COPY. y LXXVI ' 4 8 WEDNESDAY, 92 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. $5.00 A YEAR, 0) : . ll FS IT TS PRE OE OPA EET seme : ee a — By J. C. COWDRICK. Kip __©0F HARD PAN CAMP. oe es tattht OUT SHOT THE PRISONER'S LEFT, AND MR, PETER GRIMES GOT IT SQUARELY IN THE NECK,

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es pH * ““ ' 3 cra \ 2 ‘Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport: Detective Dave’s Full Flush. A Romance of the Pledged Pards of Hard-Pan Camp. BY J. C. COWDRICK. CHAPTER I. PRISONER AND CHAMPION, It was the daily stage between Rain- bow and Hard Pan. Rainbow was a railroad town, while Hard Pan was a mining camp some sixty railes distant. The relay ‘station between these two points was a "ae settlement known as White Horse, out equidistant from both places. It was a place of not more than a dozen shanties, and depended on the stage line for its existence. When the stage came whirling into White Horse on this occasion, it was seen at once that an excitement of some kind prevailed. Instead of lounging lazi- ly in front of the one salon of the place, or hanging around the doors of the stable where the relay horses were kept, the whole population was congregated en masse in the open. What did it mean? The stage drawing nearer and coming to a stop, the driver was enabled to take in the situation. In the midst of the group were two men holding a third—clearly their pris- oner. The driver, knowing them all, immediately shared their excitement, in a measure, and called out: “Hulloo! Have ye got him at last, boys?” “Yes, we have got him, Uncle Josh, you can just bet your boots!” was the response. “ Wull,” urged the driver, further, “I am inclined to think ye have got the wrong man, after all.” “Why, how is that?” “Tt ’pears ter me that if Kid-Glove Kris had done ther deed, and had once got away clear, ye would never see him around these hyer parts again. Does et stand to reason?” “Right, old man,” spoke up the pris- oner; “ just what I have been trying to impress upon their minds, but they won’t have it. I came here to take the stage to Hard Pan, and the first thing I knew they jumped me fer the murder of Thom- as Kenton.” Those within the stage were now géet- ting out, and before responding to the prisener’s remark the driver turned to his passengers. “That's right,’ he spoke, “tumble out and s‘retch your legs—I mean yer bod- jes,” at sight of a bright-faced young woman who at that moment appeared. “We stop hyer ten minutes.” And then to the prisoner: “Thar is logic, in a solid cubic chunk,” with a shake of the head. “1 tell ye, boys, et is my belief that Kid-Glove Kris is innocent, after all.” “Then why don’t he tell whar he was that night?" was demanded. “ Whar has he been ever since? Ht has a mighty s’picious look, Uncle Josh, as you will have to admit. He is as close as a clam on them p’ints.” The young woman mentioned had just placed one dainty foot on the step, in the order of getting out of the stage, when the prisoner made known that he had been arrested for the murder of Thomas Kenton, and she stopped skort, her eyes for the moment fastened on his face. She paled, then flushed, then paled again, and getting on out, took a position a little in the background. She was a good-looking little body, clad in» black. “Why don’t yer tell, Kris?” the driver demanded. “ Ef ye kin clear yerself, et is yer duty to do et.” Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. “ Some’ things cannot be explained just now, Uncle Josh,” the prisoner rejoined; “but this I will say, and have said—that I am wholly innocent of the crime.” ‘‘Wull, I hope ye will have a fair chance to prove et, that’s all,” remarked one of his captors. “ ‘Ther people of Hard Pan are at fever heat about ther matter, though, and they may take et into their heads to lynch ye on sight, ef you are as stubborn thar.” “T’ll have to be iynched, then, I sup- pose,” was the matter-of-fact rejoinder. The prisoner was a large, finely tormed, handsome man, under thirty years of age. He was roughly clad, in top boots, coarse and serviceable trousers, a short corduroy jacket and slouch hat. But he was clean-shaved, and his handsome mustache had a graceful curl. “Wull, come, git out them: thar crit- ters! ’’ called out the stage driver, arous- ing to the business of the moment. ‘‘ We ean’t stand hyer all day! I will be back in jist one minute and a half, and I want ther ribbons ready fer my hands.” He had thrown the lines down on either side, and climbed from his seat, and now strode away in the direction of the one lone saloon of the settlement to “wet his whistle.” “What about et, now, Kid-Glove Kris?” asked one of the captors of the prisoner. “ About what?” the prisoner inyuired. “Will you git in and ride peaceable, or must we bind ye? Thar is a big re- ward on yer head, and we are bound to have et one way or another.” “You need not take the trouble to bind me,” was the careless reply. “I was go- ing to Hard Pan anyhow, and by this stage, so you will not be taking me out of my way.” “ All right; we’ll take ye at yer word; but, at the same time, don’t ye ferget that we have each of us got a hand on a gun, and at ther first sign of tricks we'll be ’bliged ter let ye have et. Pard, you git in first, then Kid-Glove Kris, and I'll foller after.” In this order they got into the stage, the sport acting as indifferently as if the matter had little concern for him. The young woman, meantime, was sauntering in the direction of the saloon. Uncle Josh soon appeared, wiping his mouth. “Hurry up thar, consarn ye all!’”’ he bawled. ‘Git them thar critters buckled in! We can’t stand hyer all day— Yer parding, miss; did you speak ter me?” The young woman had accosted him. “Yes; I wanted to ask you if I might ride with you on top the rest of the jour- ney to Hard Pan?” “Ride outside! Ain’t ye afeerd?” “Why, no; why should I be afraid? There are now so many men inside, only one vacant place— Please do not refuse.” “Don’t see how any man could refuse ye anything ye might ask, miss, that’s honest. Yas, you kin ride on ther box with me, of course, but ye must be keer- fal “Trust me for that, sir.” “Come along. then, and I'll boost ye She followed him to the stage and was assisted up to the box, and by that time the last trace had been hooked and the lines were put in the driver’s hands. “Phat is ther way I like ter travel, close connections,” said the old man, “Ye have done well, boys. I don’t keep anybody waitin’ fer me, and I don’t like to wait fer anybody. -Wull, so-long, fel- ler galoots!” climbing to his place, “I opine I’ll see ye all termorrer.” With that he drew up the lines, flung out his long whip and caused it to crack like a pistol, and witn a loud “ gee-up!” the stage went on its way. He had six horses, but handled them as easily as any ordinary man might have handled two. For a little while the driver and his fair companion were silent. She seemed to be in a meditative mood; but, at length she asked: Rt er are ee hae “Have you any objection to talking a little, Mr. Josh?” “Ha! ha!” the old fellow ‘burst out laughing, to her evident surprise. ‘No, I ain’t ther least ’bjection to talkin’, miss, but I do ’bject to bein’ called Mr. Josh. Call me Uncle Josh, ef ye want to, but don’t put on no trimmin’s, if ye please.” It was now her turn to laugh, and she did, with a merry ripple, which she checked rather abruptly. “I merely wanted to inquire some- thing about the murder for which tls man inside has been arrested, and of which he declares he is innocent. You seemed to know him, and spoke as if you knew all about the matter.” “You are right in both cases, miss. 1 know WKid-Glove Kris well enough, and, as fer ther murder, everybody knows about that. While as fer talkin’, I am one of ther consarnedest talkers ye ever heard tell of, once ye git me started. [ was only holdin’ my tongue out of per- liteness, but I don’t reckon I could ’a’ held et much longer, ef you hadn’t spoke.” The young woman smiled sadly, but this time did not laugh. “T will give you the chance to exercise your conversational powers, then, Uncle Josh,” she said, “for I am curious to know all about the matter. Do you know, I am inclined to think as you do—that they have got hold of the wrong man. This man does not look like a murderer.” “And I don’t believe he did do et, either, in spite of all ’pearances,” the old man stoutly declared. “But, all the same, there are some ugly facts standin’ in ther way that he will have to ex- plain.” “Then why does he not do it?” “That is ther question, miss, why don’t he? Them that’s got him think it is ’ceuse he can’t.” “T am more inclined to believe it is because he won’t. You know he told you there were some things he could not ex- plain just now. Oh, no, I cannot think him guilty!” “Wull, I am glad ye don’t, gal. Lord knows he’ll need all ther friends he kin muster when they git him to Hard Pan, for Thomas Kenton was a _ well-liked man there, and there’s a plenty as believes that Kid-Glove Kris is the man who done for him. Maybe they’ll lynch him.” “Oh! we must not allow them to do that, Mr— I mean Uncle Josh. He must have a fair trial, no matter what the appearances are—I shall insist upon that—yes, I shall insist upon it. You do not know who I am, so I will tell you. My name is Myra Kenton, and Thomas Kenton was my father. Now, don’t you think they will listen to me, Uncle Josh?” CHAPTER II. THE STORY OF A CRIMD. The grizzled old stage-driver looked at his companion With renewed interest and something of surprise. “So, you aire Thomas Kenton’s dar- ter, aire you?” he said reflectively, and more as if speaking to himself. “,Wull, now, I thought there was somethin’ in your face that was familiar.” “ But, answer my question, please,” the young lady urged. “Do you believe they will listen to me? I cannot believe that the prisoner inside is my father’s mur- ‘derer, and it would be terrible if they were to hang the wrong man. Do you think they will respect my request? ” “ Wull, now, gal, to be honest with ye, mebby they will and mebby they won't, Ef they aire dead sure they are right, they may take et inte their heads that it will be doin’ ye more of a favor to hang ther feller right up auick, ter show ye that they heid yer dad in high respect. — On t’other hand, mebby you’ and the widdy together—” “The widow?” in surprise. “ What do you mean? What widow?” “Why, her that was yer father’s wife, on course; who else would—” eh

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“My father’s wife? married. Surely, there must be a great mistake somewhere, Uncle Josh,” “Ixo mistake about that, anyhow, miss,’ the old man declared decisively. ““T-e was married about a year ago, pub- licly, thar at Hard Pan, and ther widdy is a sure-enough fact, I kin assure ye.” The young woman seemed bewildered. “This is news to me,” she said. “ Father never mentioned it to me in any of his letters. What is she like, Uncle Josh? Anywhere near my poor father’s age?” “Bless ye, no. She is young and hand- some—not a day over thirty at the very most—younger if anything, and with the blackest hair and eyes ye ever seen in all yer days. She is fascinatin’, I should eer if that is the word I want ter ap- ply.” “And papa never told me.” The young woman fell to musing, and for a few moments neither spoke. “But, the murder,” she said presently. “You were going to tell me all about that. Pray do so now. I will try not to interrupt you.” “ Et don’t matter ’bout the interruptin’, miss, but I take et that you know about et already, seein’ that et didn’t cut ye up when ye heard mention of it, and again seein’ that ye are in black.” “Yes, I knew the sad fact, but the par- ticulars—I would like to know all you can tell me about it.” “And that ain’t much, miss. He was found dead on the floor of his office one mornin’, with a bullet in his heart. No robbery had been done, nothin’ was out of order, and et was a great mystery. *Et was known that he had had a quarrel with Kid-Glove Kris—the feller inside hyer—and as Kris was missin’ that mornin’ et was set down at once that he was the man that had done the job. A big reward was posted fer him, men set out in every direction to find him, but he wasn’t to be found, and so they sot et down fer a fact that he must be the party.” “You say that he and my father had a quarrel?” “Yes, so they had.” “Do you know what that quarrel was about?” “Wull, now, et’s ruther a delicate mat- ter ter mention,” averred the old driver, looking straight ahead and tickling the ears of one of his horses with the tip of the whip. “No matter; tell me all you know,” the young woman insisted. She was pale, but determined, “Well, they do say that the sport was a little too familiar with yer father’s wife to please the old gent, and that et kem of that. But folks will talk, ye know. As ier me, 1 don’t know nothin’ about et. I’m only tellin’ what I have heard.” The young woman bit her lips, and her eyes flashed. “What do you know about the pris- oner?’’ she next inquired. ‘‘ What is his reputation? ”’ * Wull, he is gen’ly ‘counted white by them that know him best. They say he plays a square game, and he has never been known to cheat in his life. He had a good name.” “Am I to understand that he is a gambler?” “Wull, he is a sport—yes.” “JT would not have thought it—he does not look it. But what am I saying?” “Ye are sayin’ about what you and me seem ter think—that he ain’t the right man,’ returned Josh, not catching her meaning. ‘I don’t believe that he killed -your father, miss.” “JT hope he did not.” “No; Kid-Glove Kris ain’t that kind, my opine.” “ Ah! that reminds me of something | wanted to ask you—-why do they call him by such a name as Kid-Glove Kris?” “Why, fer the reason that he. won’t tetch the pasteboards without he has kid “ gloves on, no way, shape, ner fashion.” Why, he was not | | *Pasieboards? ” “* Yas—kyards.” Oh! I understand.” “That is the reason. Don’t know why he is so p’tic’lar, but he &B, and that is what guv him his odd name. I have watched him by the hour, playin’, and him a-flippin’ ther wicked pasties as dainty as ary woman, in his spotless kids all the time.” “No matter; if he is not guilty of the murder of my father, he must be saved from the lynchers—if you really think there is danger; and he must be given a fair trial. Did I understand you to say there are some who believe him inno- cent?” * Yes, some.” “ Who are they?” “Wull, ther widdy, as I said—” “Yes, [ have not forgotten her. Tell me of others.” “Wull, thar is Nate Hawkins, that used ter be mayor of Hard Pan; he is on his side.” “And who is mayor now?” the young woman inquired. “One Peter Grimes.” ‘“ How does he stand? Does he believe that this man—’ “Miss, he is pizen against Kid-Glove Kris. Ef et wasn’t*vthat he has ter make a showin’ of law and order, I wouldn’t be s’prised ter see him at ther head of ther lynchers,”’ , “It is too bad that the other man, Mr. Hawkins, is not still in office, then. But, justice shail be done, Uncle Josh! No one can be more eager than I to see the guilty wretch brought to answer for his crime, but there must be no mistake made.” ““T admire ye fer that stand, miss, and I hope that we won’t see no trouble when we git thar.” “Oh! what a frightful place that is just ahead there!” “ Bt will try yer narve, miss, but don’t git skart; thar ain’t no danger ter speak of. Sot right still, and we'll go around thar as stiddy as we kem through that canyon a ways back.” Nevertheless, the young woman grew pale, and she took a firm grip upon the iron side-rail of the seat with one hand and upon the driver’s arm with the other. And no wonder. It was a place calcu- lated to daunt a stouter heart than hers. The stage was now in the rugged mountains, where there was nothing but bare, barren rock on every hand, follow- ing the course of a divide. It had come suddenly to a place where the trail seemed to come to an abrupt end. On one hand was a high wall, reaching up and up, and on the other a sheer descent, while ahead was nothing but the sky. The trail ran out upon a ledge of rock that was seemingly no wider than the stage itself, and curved away to the left in a manner that gave it the appearance we have described. More than once had the nerves of a “ tenderfoot”’ been put to the test here, mounted on the box as was this young woman. “What if something were to break!” the girl gasped. Nothin’ is likely ter break,’ assured the driver, carelessly. “‘ Keep yer narve, gal.” “Or what if the horses were to take fright— Oh! Uncle Josh! do take care! I believe I will shut my eyes until we have passed the dreadful place, It is too frightful!” The driver chuckled to himself. They were just coming out upon the narrow ledge at the moment, and a pool of still, black water was seen some fifty feet below them, on the side the young woman was on. “Thar ain’t no danger, I tell ye,” the driver tried@ to convince. ‘No hosses with sense aire goin’ to take fright in sech a place as this; they think too much of their necks fer that, miss. Why, 1 have come around hyer on a dead lope, ‘fore now— Thunderation! Whoa!” Something had ‘happened; but what? Kid-Glove’ Kris, the Sport. 3 The driver and his companion had felt a slight rocking of the stage, and imme- diately the click of one of the doors was heard. Simultaneously with the click came the loud voice of the passengers, and, even before the driver could bring his six horses to a stop, the spiteful barking of revolvers awoke the canyon echoes. The young woman, looking around be- fore the driver could do so, beheld a sight that almost chilled her blood for the in- stant. A man had leaped from the stage! She saw him going down, down, toward the black water; he struck it with a loud splash and disappeared, while the bullets went pinging into the water close around the exact spot! CHAPTER III. DRIVER AND PASSENGER. To say simply that excitement pre- vailed would be to express it far too mildly. Excitement ran riot for a few moments, The two captors, thus cheated of their prize money, leaped from the stage with fierce execrations, but they took care not to follow their prisoner’s daring ex- ample. Holding to the wheels, they leaned over and gazed down into the black pool, their guns ready for further execution upon the slightest suggestion of the reappear- ance of their prisoner; but they looked in vain. The water had closed over the spot where the sport had disappeared, and he was seen no more. “Thunderation!” cried Uncle Josh. “Ye don’t mean ter say that yer man jumped down ther cliff!” “Yes, yes! he did! he! did! ” cried Myra Kenton, wildly excited. ‘“ And, oh; they have killed him; I know they have killed him! ” “You kin bet your sweet life that we have killed him, cuss him!” one of the captors grimly asserted. ‘“‘ He’d orter ’a’ knowed better ’n to ’a’ tried sech a thing.” “ That’s where you are right,” assented the other. ‘‘ We have ballasted him with lead in sech a fashion that ie won’t never rise again, you bet! He is at ther bot- tom of Devil’s Inkhorn by this time. Et was impossible to miss him at sech a close range.” “Of course et was,” the other coin- cided. ‘“ We'll claim that reward all ther same, fer hyer is proof a-plenty that we guv him his dinner before he went out of sight.” ““Sartain sure,’ from the other. ‘‘ That is the last of Kid-Glove Kris, fur as this world is concerned.” “IT do not believe you touched him,” spoke up the girl on the box. “What! Yer don’t? Why not?” “Because I was looking straight at him, and I saw your bullets strike the water.” “Impossible, young woman, impossi- ble! We are shots, me and my pard, and I tell ye we couldn’t ’a’ missed him, no- how. Oh, no; he got his dose hard enough!” “ And I declare that you did miss him, I care not how good shots you are,” was the spirited rejoinder. ‘“‘ The stage was moving sufficiently to have disturbed your aim, and you fired with such haste you could not have been certain of your aim.” “ Wull, if we missed him, whur is he?” one demanded. “Alas! I do not know, but I feel sure that you did not hit him with a bullet. At any rate, I hope you did not.” ‘Yer hope that we didn’t, and him a murderer? What are ye talkin’ about, anyhow?” “T do not believe he was the murderer, sir. He did not look like a bad man, lL am sure.” “ Jist what I am inclined ter think.my- self,” put in Uncle Josh. “ Thar was no murder in Kid-Glove Kris, I feel sure of et. But, of course, I don’t p’tend to ex- plain sarcumstances.”

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a “No, I guess you don’t. nocent, why did he run the risk of his life ‘bby makin’ sech a leap as this hyer? ” *T give et up, ‘less et was ’cause he | knowed he wouldn’t git no show at Hard | Pan.” ““Why wouldn’t he git a show thar, i’d like ter know?” “Wull, you know what the feelin’ thar, and how dead bitter ther mayor is ag’inst him.” “No matter; he won’t put ’em to any trouble now, that is sartain. I am sorry fer him, but we had ter let drive at him when he took things in his own hands like that.’’ The two chagrined captors took another long look down into the dismal hole. The water of the Devil’s Inkhorn was | almost placid again, and there was not the slightest sign of the man who had taken the desperate plunge, “No use,” said one, shaking his head. “He got his quietus, and he is at the bottom. We might jest as well go on, Uncle Josh. But, miss, see hyer: At first you hollered out that we had killed him.” 2 “Yes, I know I did, in my excitement.” ie “And ye thort we had, too. What made ye change yer mind so suddent, ef I might ask?” : “Why, it came to me right away that i I had seen the bullets strike the water, : the same as I explained to you, and that being the case, they did not harm him, of course.” “A wonder ye wouldn’t ’a’ thought of that sooner. Who aire you, anyhow, that ie ye stick up fer him so?” te “Tam Thomas Kenton’s daughter, sir.” f “Oh! ther dev— Yer pardon, miss; + we hadn’t no idee of that. We beg yer a pardon.” “That is all right, gentlemen,” said 2 the girl. ‘The reason I defend the man ie is the reason I have stated—that he does epi not look like a murderer, and I cannot Bh: believe that he was one.” “Wull, ‘we don’t p’tend ter know, of course. Thar was a reward on his head, oa and we wur after that, that was all. Et was fer somebody else to say whether he is 2 was guilty or not. Reckon we might as % well git on, Uncle Josh; et looks as if et’s & the last of Kid-Glove Kris.” + “Yes, et looks so. Git aboard.” ae The two men got in, and the stage 1 went on its way. From her position on top, being on the side nearest the dark pool, the young wo- 'man looked back as long as the water could be seen. There was no further sign of the man ade who had made the desperate leap, and ee as soon as the pool could no longer be seen the girl turned with a sigh and took : in the new vista ahead. “e “What do you think about it, Uncle " ‘ Josh?” she presently asked. “ About what, miss?” “Do you think they killed him? I am sure the bullets struck the water, for I saw the splashes plainly.” “Did ye count jist how many shots wur fired? Did ye take note jist how many bullets ye seen plunk ther water? Ef ye _ did, then we kin git at it in some kind of shap e.” vig No, I could not tell—” ste Wull, then, ther chances are that he got one ‘of ther pills, and went to ther bottom. Them two fellers ain’t no slouch shots, as they said.” “T suppose it must be so. I presume, now, they will make no further effort to find the murderer of my father, if they are convinced that this man was the one who did the deed.” , -“Mebby not, most of ’em.” “And that was chiefly what brought | - me here—to find his slayer and bring him to justice!” 5 “You? Ther deuce ye say?” . Le ae I: I have taken a resolve that | father’s death shall be revenged, for red my raged ees. But to think | If he was in- gentleman, miss, but my straight opinion of him is that he ain’t as square as a die, not quite. the eyes that I don’t like. said, I don’t know a whole lot about him.” Pan.” I can form my own estimate of the man. and ye can’t mistake him. He is allus in black, and he looks more like a under- taker than he does like a lawyer. wears his face shaved smooth.” Kenton?” meet them all in a little while now, and I will know.” do ther business ye say has brung ye hyer,” the driver declaredv kin prove that et wasn’t Kid-Glove Kris that done et.” applied the brake and brought his six horses up all standing. the driver agreed. ‘he’d a’ been deader still.” voice from one of the windows. ig the ’citement this time, Uncle Josh?” no | them turn the a. : “ Et is queer, no mistake, Who was et | sent you the word?” “A man named Gilbert Dougherty. Do you know who he is, or anything about him?” “Oh, yes, I know him, miss. He is a lawyer thar at Hard Pan, and one of ther greatest shysters that ever stood in a pair of boots, my way of thinkin’ about him,” “Indeed! His letters rather impressed me otherwise.” “Yas, and his slick tongue will im- press ye more, when ye meet him, if ye don’t look out.” “Do you mean to hint that he is not | honest, Uncle Josh? You see, I am a stranger here, and any information you can give me will be appreciated. Tell me what you know.” “T don’t know a whole lot about ther He has a snaky look about But, then, as I “Was he my father’s lawyer? ” “T guess he is the only one at Hard “ Well, I shall meet him soon, and then * Does he know you are.comin’?” “Yes.” “Then he will be on hand to meet ye, He “Ts he friendly with my—with Mrs. “As ter that, I can’t say.” “Well, it does not matter. I shall “And I hope that you will be able to “T hope ye “That reminds me— Do you drive the stage every day?” “TI sartain do, miss.” “Vell, have you had a gentleman pas- senger for Hard Pan within a few days?” ““Wull, now, that ain’t easy ter say. Ef you kin—” “Of course, it is not easy, and as I have never seen the man it is impossible for me to describe him. Never mind, Uncle Josh; it does not matter. We will talk about other things, to while away the time. road!” But, heavens! see there in the —_———_——- CHAPTER IV. THE ARRIVAL AT HARD PAN, “ Whoap!” Sharp the signal, and the stage driver | And none too soon, for the leaders were within a yard or two of a man who was lying face downward in the middle of the road, his head somewhat bent to one side and his arms outstretched. This was what Myra Kenton had seen “He must be dead!” she added imme- diately. Deader’n a hammer, I should say,’ “A leetle more and “What’s the matter now?” called a “ What “Git out hyer, you deputy sheriff fel- lers, and see who that man is in ther ‘road ahead,” was opine he’s pomacytt bid the response, nigh! “A dead m So exclaimi az men came tumbling out | | of the stage on both sides, and they has- ened alon ‘to the head of the team, ! he : i | ining. But little more was sad event seeming to gers | gloom over the bins where the man was lying. aK and his companions saw) The r af or ine man over and knew with- dead. body ‘Kid- Glove Eris, ‘the Sport. | Was eacie stiff, and there was a dar™ —what had caused her to utter the words ; with which the preceding chapter closed. | | forthwith, the others eagerly waiting. - fact. stain on the breast. “Who is it?” the driver shouted in- quiringly. “Give. it up,” was the answer. is a stranger hyerabouts, say.” “Go for his pockets, then and see what he has got aboard; that is the only way to find out, I opine,’’ Uncle Josh directed. This was done and one of the men took some letters from the dead man’s inside f coat pocket, proceeding to examine them * He we should a “Wull, what d’ye find?” the driver called out impatiently. “Why, et ’pears his name was David Coleman, and that he hailed from Den- ver At There was a sudden scream, uttered ye by the young woman on the box with | the driver, and for a moment she cov- ered her face with her hands. “You know him, then?”’ asked. “Yes, yes; it is the man I was going to inquire, about only a little while ago, sin? “Ther mischief et is! was he, then?” “He was a detective, sir, whom I en- gaged to come here and assist me in fer- retting out the mystery of my father’s to murder.” , “ Thunderation! ”’ fe That, it seemed, was a favorite ex- i pletive of Uncle Josh’s. “Who can have murdered him?” the young lady mused. “Surely, no one eg he was coming here, for I told no ¥ on od 4 fe “No, but mebby he had——” = “No, no, for it was he who cautioned Pe me against telling. He did not want a , oa soul to know who he was or his business here. Poor man! little I thought I should find him so.” “Wull, git him aboard,” the driver di- rected. “ Et is a long time since I have carried a dead man.” The men picked up the body and bore it toward the stage. » “Whar will ye have et?” one asked. “On ther rack behind,” the driver di- rected. “ Ht will ride on top of the trunks, I opine.” “And give me his papers,” the young woman requested. They looked at her in surprise. They } had not heard what she had been saying to the driver. ie. “Why should we give ther papers to you?” the man who held them demand- ed wonderingly. ‘ We'll give ‘em to et ie Mayor Grimes when we git to Hard | Pan. bebe | 5 “You will give ’em to ther lady, same ~ as she says,” spoke up Uncle Josh in a tone of determination. “This man is a friend of hers, one that she expected to ae oe meet when she got to Hard Pan.” | a “Oh! that bein’ ther case——” are ee the driver Who and what i a . aS He handed the letters up to cher oe a promptly. ee The dead man was put on the top Otae the trunks on the rack behind, the men got aboard, and the stage went Gn? . “Did ye know ther feller, miss?” the driver inquired. re “No; you know I told you I had never — seen him, but there can be no doubt of © his identity, for here are my own letters © to him—David Coleman, Denver, Cok” Shae ¢ Wull, now ye have got a do ubled — knot to ontie? td rid “Yes, yes; and IT am aleoat : bee \ dered.” ad “Wull, wull, ye will soon be at Hard — Pan now, and mebby you and ther widdy workin’ together ye kin git to ther, bot tom of ther double mystery.” A cloud seemed to come over the of the young woman, and she bent head low over the papers she we and gs pide, at

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_ Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. 5 Day was drawing to a close when the “But, ther galoot behind?” the crowd The crowd listened with bated breath. stage rolled into Hard Pan. was demanding. ““Who is he? Whar “ And.so, don’t et stand to reason that Hard Pan was a place of some import- | did ye git him?” ) he is dead?” one of the deputy sheriffs ance. It was a mining center, in the So eager, so excited were they all, that | demanded. midst of a country rich in gold deposits.| they could not be satisfied half fast! “It will be more than a miracle if he It was, in fact, a young city, thorough- | enough, and to them it seemed that the | isn’t,’ agreed the mayor. “But, now,, ly up to date, having telephone connec- | driver and all the rest were aggravatingly | this other—this dead man whom you , tion with the outside world, electric: slow. | found a few miles out on the trail; who fare, and so forth. mayor. “Ther young lady knowed him,” vol- A great shout was heard as the stage ** A dead man,” they answered him. unteered the driver. ‘“ His name I fer- drew near; men came pouring out of the hotel, stores, and other places, and in a few moments the street was fairly black with people. Excitement seemed to pre- vail, and the young woman passenger looked at the driver inquiringly. “What does it mean?” she voiced her euriosity. “Why, they expect ter see ther pris- oner,” was the ready explanation. “The prisoner? How could they know : “ Kid-Glove Kris?” | get this minnit, but et was on letters in ““No, no, somebody else. Why in mis-| his pocket, and she said he was a de- ery don’t they tell us?” | tective she had engaged to come hyer and “Thunderation!” yelled the driver.| try to solve the mystery of her father’s “Why don’t ye give us half a show ter | murder.’ tell ye, then mebby we would. Hyer, “ Indeed! ” somebody help this lady down.” Myra Kenton felt her stepmother give A tall man in deepest black, with face | a start and saw her face pale for an in- clean shaven, had been striving his hard- | | stant. est to get to the front, and, having at “Ts this true?” the widow asked her that moment succeeded, he lifted his hat} quickly. ‘‘Did you recognize the man, anything about it?” to Myra, asking: then?” “Why, by the telephone from White “You are Miss Myra Kenton? I am} “Yes, it is true; I knew him by the ee 5 Horse, of course Hard Pan ain’t be-| Gilbert Dougherty. Proud and delighted | letters,” answered the girl. > hind ther times, you bet!” to weleome you safe to Hard Pan. Pray! “Get the body down here and let’s callow me,” holding up his arms. “Ah!} have a look at-it,’” the mayor ordered. you are heavier than you looked to be.| “Is it possible that we have got another Room for the lady, please, gentlemen.| mystery to deal with? We have had This way, miss, and I will present you to | more than enough already.” j No opportunity was given to say more, for by that time the stage entered the main street and the crowd opened a pas- sage for it to approach the big hotel. = Sia eis As the stage entered the opening the | —to Mrs. Kenton.” Willing hands were taking the dead ; crowd closed in behind, and, with a Soa man down, even as the mayor gave the : great clamoi, crowded upon it, sides and CHAPTER V. order, and the body was soon laid on the rear. Then, in a moment, was made the CHAGRIN OF THE PEOPLE. ground in plain view. discovery of the dead man on the rack} Gilbert Dougherty had introduced him-| “A stranger to me,” answered the © A behind, and the wild clamor was ten-| self needlessly. mayor. Myra Kenton had recognized him at| He looked around and, seeing Myra on 5 sight by the description she had received ; the piazza, lifted his hat to her and asked: from the stage driver. “Do I understand that you know She allowed him to lift her down from \ something about this man, Miss Ken- ton?” He had heard the lawyer men- re tion her name, and the driver had re- 4 peated it since. a “Yes, sir,” Myra answered. “His name was David. Coleman, and he was a ae detective whom I engaged to come here ) and work out the mystery of my father’s oy death and bring his murderer to jus- tice.” a “Ha! what d’ye think now, Peter Ny Grimes?” a man demanded. 2 He was a man roughly clad and wore a full beard something like the mayor’s own. 3 “What do I think about what, Nate Hawkins?” the mayor snarled as if dis- a fold increased, : “Whar is he?” cried the crowd ahead, ¥ “‘ Give us a sight at him!” “Who is ther dead man?” from the crowd behind. “What has been goin’ on, anyhow, Uncle Josh?” Other questions were asked and things said all in the space of a few moments, but nearly all to similar effect,as the stage drew to its stopping place, before the Cosmopolitan Hotel, a modern structure three stories high and containing over a hundred rooms. The piazza was lined with people, men and women together, __- noticeable among whom were a couple near the steps. These were a Man and woman, the her high perch and to retain her hand as he conducted her through the throng in the direction of the piazza and up the steps to where the woman in black was standing. “Mrs, Kenton,” he said, bowing, “ per- mit me to present your late husband’s daughter, Miss Myra Kenton.” And he bowed again as he ended, releasing Myra’s hand. and scraping backward a pace to allow the two ladies room in which to greet, he having played his little part. There was a moment of silence while the two women looked at each other. “T was not aware that my husband had a daughter,’ said Mrs. Kenton. } first a stout, well-dressed individual ‘with a full, black beard; the other tall, ‘handsome, and clad in somber garments, The woman was speaking energetically, “Nor I that he. had a second wife be-| pleased to have the man address him - her hand on the man’s arm. fore this day,” returned Myra. so familiarly. “What do I think about a He was scowling. “Strange that he never told me,” said | what?” i Somehow, Myra Kenton’s eyes singled | the widow. “ Why, about Kid-Glove Kris, of course. a these: two out at once, and she rightly “ Yes, very strange, I agree with you.” Ain’ t this proof that he was innocent of a % fe + guessed that the woman was her father’s} ‘They looked at each other again,.| that crime?” widow. searchingly. Then, as if suddenly rec- “T don’t see it. How do you make it “4 _. While Myra was looking the man | oliecting that it was her duty to greet, ; out?” . a _ turned his face toward the woman and | the tall beauty extended her hand, saying: |_“ Why, hyer was a detective comin’ to “a spoke, not more than a few words, and/ «yoy will pardon me, I am sure. This| look into that case. Some galoot found it “4 is such a surprise that I was for the mo-| out and put a bullet into him to cut short ment quite taken aback. Pray, let me| his career. Now, that couldn’t ’a’ been make amends,” drawing her nearer and| Kid-Glove Kris, fer he was at White kissing her. ‘Mr. Dougherty, why did| Horse under arrest. Don’t et stand to you not tell me that Mr. Kenton had a/| reason?” daughter?” “Tt is pretty good evidence that he did — “A thousand pardons, I beg,” said the | not kill this man, but that is all,” retort- ‘ lawyer, bowing and scraping with great-| ed the mayor. to the prisoner, citizens.” est servility, “but how was I to know; “All? Ain’t et proof that he didn’t “Don’t give yerself any trouble, Mayor! that you did not know it? Who would} kill Kenton?” - Grimes, ” called out the driver. “We | have supposed for a moment that it was “T don’t see how.” e ain't got no prisoner aboard this hyer} not known to you? I am so surprised| ‘“ Then I’ll try to make ye see, ef I kin: myself that I hardly know what to say.| The man that killed this chap must ’a’ And that you, miss, did not know that| knowed he was coming hyer, and he laid . your father had married—” fer him and done him up. Now, who Words failed him, and he left it un-| would have cause ter do that, ’cept the finished. ‘| man that had most to fear; namely, the “No matter; we will talk of it later,| murderer himself?” dear,” said the widow, still retaining| ‘“ That is all very well, but could not Myra’s hand. “No one else need know;| Kid-Glove Kris have had a pard do the you understand, Mr. Dougherty?” dirty job for him? In fact, it looks to “Perfectly, madam.” | me as if it may have been just such a “You may leave us; we will consult | scheme as that, and Kid-Glove Kris made with you later. I am eager to hear what | his appearance at White Horse at ee those men are saying. You will pardon | the right time to reap the benefit o ‘me, dear?” embracing Myra with one| very point you have just raised. arm. am = convinced at we ibe ark __ No one was taking any notice of them, : , V | but all attention was being given to th | ther ‘stage driver and his. Passengers, _ | and | were telling: the paleree of the day ; KD > A hurriedly descended the steps at the mo- - ment the stage stopped. “Whoap!” sung out Uncle Josh, ap- - plying the brake and bringing his six _ horses to a standstill. “Make room here!” ordered the black- whiskered man, authoritatively, as he \ | lights, a trolley car on its main thorough- “Who is behind?” demanded the! is he?” \ pushed his way forward. “No 2 | “No prisoner!” ithe mayor exclaimed, and a hundred others with him, and he looked the surprise he felt. _ “Nary!” assured Uncle Josh. _ yt _ “No, but we had him hard and fast yaty ‘sheriffs, as the passengers made - their appearance, “Ye have seen ‘ther last of Kid-Glove Kris.” aT me Mayor. Shape that he’s dead,” aseerted oe i black arhed deathly any feat at that» announce-

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- have some definite proof of it. 6 “ o.,' 99 7] , ! : . : } “ow, ° m But, sir,” spoke up Myra, “no one’ certain’ expectancy of seeing the Kid- | Kid-Glove Kris!” the latter ex- knew the man was coming here, He had expressly cautioned me against informing anybody.” “But, some one must ’a’ found et out, | it stands to reason,” argued Mr. Hawkins. “And who would be as likely to know it as Kid-Glove Kris?” questioned the | mayor. “He was a wide-awake sport, and knew which way the wind was blow- ing every day in the week.” “Wull, thar ain’t no use our wranglin’ over et,” assumed the ex-mayor. “ Hyer | is ther detective, dead, and somebody killed him, that is sartain. You have| now got another case on your hands, | Pete, and I hope that ye will be able to | clear one of ’em up, anyhow.” } The mayor turned his back upon him, “Pick the poor devil up, boys, and carry him away,” he directed. “ See that a coffin is made for him, and in the morn- ing we will inquire into his death for- mally.” He waved his hand and turned toward | the piazza. ‘ The mail had been handed out, the baggage taken down from the rack, and now Uncle Josh drove in the direction of the stables, a portion of the crowd following to hear still further details. The remainder pressed around the two deputy sheriffs who had made the dis- tinguished arrest at White Horse, to learn more of the particulars from them. The mayor ascended the steps and spoke to Mrs. Kenton. “You heard it all, of course,” he ob- served. “Yes, I heard.” “T would have done my best to save the prisoner from violence, as you de- sired, but, as you saw, there was no prisoner there. He took a daring risk, and has paid for it with his life.” “Then you think he is dead?” “Why, not a doubt of it. The leap was almost enough, of itself, and add to that the bullets that were sent after him —Oh! he met his fate, beyond any ques- tion.” The woman was pale. “How foolish of him!” she exclaimed. “Why did he take such a risk, when— when—” “When what, Mrs. Kenton?” ““Why, he had a possible chance of be- ing acquitted, you know; and, unlike you, I cannot believe that he did the deed.” “TI know that is the view you hold, Mrs. Kenton, but does not his very des- peration show that he was guilty? An innocent man would have faced a trial in preference to taking such chances as that.” “Well, well, I do not know. I only wish that the matter might be cleared up and the guilty one punished—or, if it}, was Kid-Glove Kris, then I would like to You see, | he has my sympathy for the injustice my husband did him.” “And there was the motive—but, let us drop the painful matter. So, this is Thomas Kenton’s daughter?” “Yes; and, your pardon, permit me to introduce her.” This was gracefully done, the mayor acknowledging it suitably. The widow then led the young lady into the house. The mayor’s brow darkened as he walked away from the spot, and he went muttering to himself. There was more mystery forced under his official notice than he could cope with, possibly. ‘She is determined to believe him in- nocent, in the face of everything,” he told himself. “I am inclined to the belief that perhaps Tom Kenton had good rea- son for his break with Kid-Glove Kris. Well, I hope he is effectually out of the way, anyhow.” CHAPTER VI. WHAT MAN WAS THIS? Hard Pan was disappointed, Her people had congregated with the Kid-Glove Kris, | from the stage down into the Devil’s Ink- | | : c OMe Bins ny gay h 3 =_t the Sport. Glove Sport brought into town a prisoner. To be sure, the story of his daring leap horn had in a measure gratified their morbid desire for a sensation, but they | were disappointed nevertheless, And that would have in no wise suf- ficed had it not been supplemented by the new enigma—the dead man whom the stage had brought in. The fact of his being said to have been a detective, lent additional interest to the mystery that surrounded his murder. As said, day was about drawing to a close when the stage arrived. In half an hour more the electric lights were turned on, and with glint and spar- kle the town took on a new appearance and night was turned back again into day, to all intents and purposes. The brighter the light the blacker the shadow, however, is a saying that is not to be gainsaid; so far as the electric light is concerned, and while Hard Pan was fairly ablaze with light along her main street and in her public resorts, there were corners here and there where deep darkness reigned. Hard Pan, as we have said, was up to date in many respects, but her denizens, when they thronged the main street and the public resorts after nightfall, made a motley concourse. The man in broad- cloth and the begrimed miner in coarse attire jostled elbows, and the skirts of the respectable woman brushed those of the camp adventuress. The professional “bad man,” with his guns in their hol- sters flapping his thighs at every stride, and his belt full of bullets, made the humble, serious-faced ‘“ parson,” on his way to the “ Gospel Tent” up the gulch, give him the right of way. Mrs. Marie Kenton and her late hus- band’s daughter, Miss Myra, had just supped and returned to the former’s suite of handsomely furnished rooms in the Cosmopolitan, and were looking from the windows upon the scene just briefly de- scribed, when they became aware of a more than usual stir and bustle. At first it was only a man running, then another, and yet still another, who seemed to be giving some word of news as they ran, and in a few seconds men came pouring out of open doors and the street was soon black with human be- ings. It had all taken place so suddenly that, as yet, the two women. mentioned had found no chance to make remarks. “What can be the matter?” Myra sud- denly questioned, turning to her hand- some step-mother. “T do not know, of course,” was the placid response. ‘Some common shoot- ing affray, maybe. You will get used to such things, if you are here long, my “Tt must be something of great mo- ment,’ Myra rejoined. ‘Hear them all shout, and see how excited they appear to be. They are all looking up the street, too, the direction from which the news came—whatever it can be. Oh! I do wonder what is the matter?” Even the widow now shared a little of the excitement, and looked eagerly up the street. “We shall soon know, now,” she ob- served. ‘The crowd is moving this way.” , A dense crowd was moving down to ‘the city centre—as the space before the Cosmopolitan Hotel on the one side and the Metropolitan Saloon on the other, was called. Another moment, and those looking from the windows were enabled to make out the cause of the unusual commotion. Two mounted men were coming, and | between them, on foot, bareheaded and in | his shirt sleeves, they had a prisoner. | He was a large, finely formed, handsome man, as he was distinctly revealed under the glare of the electric lights, and at sight of him Myra gave a gasp and the widow uttered a slight scream. ‘ t e) : j ; .* eae eam hedeiaey com aap Cae oN — claimed. “Yes, it is he—the-prisoner who leaped from the stage down into the waiter,” said Myra. Mrs. Kenton had thrown open the win- dow by which she was standing as Myra was speaking, and Myra left the window she was at and joined her there, ana both leaned out. “Yes, you kin bet your life et is Kid- Glove Kris, even ef he does deny ei!” one of the captors was just shouting. ‘‘ Hyar he is, as. large as life, and we are ready fer that reward. Whar is Mayor Grimes? Tell him to come out hyer and take a squint.” Everybody was shouting; a thousand things were said in a moment, as it seemed; the street was in an uproar. Just then the mayor made his appear- ance out of the Metropolitan, “What's all this about?” he demanded. “ Hyer’s yer prisoner! Hyer’s yer Kid- Glove Sport!” “Thunderation! So et is, as I’m born!” cried Uncle Josh, the stage-driver. “Where did you find him?” the mayor wished to know, pushing his way out into the street. ‘“‘I never expected to see him again in this world.” “Why, we overtook him ‘tween hyer and Devil’s Pass, headin’ this way, and as we knowed him on sight we jist nip- pered onto him and guv him a Jift on his road,” “Are you an officer, sir?” the prisoner asked, when Mayor Grimes came to where he stood. “Yes, aS you well know,” the answer. “As I do not know. These men have made a mistake. I am not the person they take me to be; I never heard his name, even.” “Ha! ha! ha! I don’t know what game you are up to, sport, but you can’t hope to fool us by any such story as that. We know you too well, here at Hard Pan.” “T insist that there is a mistake, sir.’ “Why, do you take us all for fools, confound you?” “Don’t his clothes show fer his dive into Devil’s Inkhorn?” some one called attention, At that remark the prisoner looked from one face to another, as if for the moment bewildered. There could be no doubting his identity. “T wonder what he is attempting?” muttered Mrs. Kenton, speaking more to herself than to her companion. “ He certainly is Kic-Clove Kris, and yet he is stoutly denying his identity.” “T am sure he is the man who leaped from the stage down into that dismal hole,” declared Myra. “But, if his life is at stake here, as I was told it is, he naturally would deny that he is Kid- Glove Kris.” “Yes, but the absurdity of it, where everybody knows him.” “Why don’t you say something?’ urged the mayor. “Can you still .pre- tend—’” “There is no pretend about it,” inter- rupied the prisoner, with a showing of spirit. “Iam not Kid-Glove Kris—never heard of such a man in my life. You can believe it or not.” “Then who the devil are you?” asked the mayor, with more force than ele- gance. “T refuse to answer the question, at present.” “ Well, if you are trying to play any in- sane doings, that will not serve you. You are Kid-Glove Kris; you were taken pris- oner to-day at White Horse; on your way here you jumped from the stage into a hole known as Devil’s Inkhorn, where you were left for dead. And here you are, your clothes hardly dry yet, and have the gall to deny that you are Kid- Glove Kris—ha! ha! ha!” ais “Lynch ther liar!’ some one shouted, “Ef ye do ye wull lynch ther wrong man, ’pend on et,” chimed in a new yoice at that juncture.

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i i Se Mayor Grimes wheeled about to find who had spoken, and discovered ex-May- or Hawkins at his elbow. “What do you know about it?” Grimes brusquely wanted to be informed. “ Mebby as much as you do,’ was the calm rejoinder. “You mean to say that this man is not Kid-Glove Kris? ” “That is just what I do say.” “Then I say that you are either a fool or drunk—maybe both.” At that the crowd laughed, and the ex- mayor flushed with anger for a moment, but quickly recovered. “ All right; have it your own way,” he said, passively. “ Ther man that laughs last laughs ther best, I have heard tell. We’ll see whether et will be you or me.” “Yes, we will see,” grated the mayor. “ And you will not be the one to laugh, sir,” the prisoner said to him. “I am glad to see there is one man in this crowd who is not blind.” “Blind be hanged!” growled the may- or. ‘He is the only one that is blind— the only one you have blinded. Men of Hard Pan,” raising his voice, “ who is this fellow anyhow?” * Kid-Glove Kris!” The answer was prompt and in full volume, “How can that man be so terribly mis- taken?’ asked Myra Kenton of her com- panion. “T don’t see,” was replied. “It cer- tainly is Kid-Glove Kris, and I cannot unders:and why he should pretend that it is not he. It must be a ruse to save his life.” “To the jail with him!” the mayor had ordered while they were speaking. “He will have the night in which to change his mind and remember who he is, and by daylight maybe even you will be convinced, Nate Hawkins. To the jail with him, and—but, come on, Haw- kins.” The prisoner was taken to the log lock- up, where the mayor and ex-mayor en- tered with him and the door was locked upon them, by the mayor’s order. The prisoner was in no amiable mood, as his face showed. The mayor ought to have seen it—maybe did, but he was im- prudent. Almost his first words were to call the man a liar, when— Out shot the prisoner’s left, straight from the shoulder, and Mr. Peter Grimes got it squarely in the neck, immensely ito the amusement of Hawkins. CHAPTER VII. THB DISPUTE AS TO IDENTITY. The Hard Pan jail was a solid struc- ture, It was built of logs, extra large, but flattened so as to lie compact. About fifteen feet in the square, the ceiling was about eight feet high, and there were six narrow, barred windows in the sides. The furniture was meager enough, con- sisting only of a stool and a bench with a back to it. something like a settee, but only large enough to hold a couple of visitors. The stool, evidently, was for the prisoner, On entering, the ex-mayor had imme- diately appropriated the stool to him-| self, and the mayor had been about to | deposit his own portly personage on the | settee when he uttered the incautious word that resulted in his being deposited in a place and manner unexpected. The prisoner had crossed sullenly to a corner, had just turned around when the . ‘word fell from Grimes’s lips, and the blow followed the word with lightning quickness. ; ‘ Over backward went the mayor, and the settee \vas crashed to the floor under him as he went down. “He! ha! haw!” laughed Hawkins, clapping his hands. “ Didn’t ye know et ‘was loaded, mayor? Prisoner, 1 said thet you wasn’t Kid-Glove Kris, but blame me ef I ain’t almost convarted to ther belief that you aire him!” ‘ 4 | Kid-Glove Se “No man calls me a liar to my teeth without getting it back with interest, if T am free to give it back,” the prisoner | averred, with emphasis. “hat is like Kid-Glove Kris, fer all | | who I am not; let that answer for the the world,” asserted Hawkins. “T tell you again that I am not he; let that suffice for once and all. I am not Kid-Glove Kris!” “Don’t misunderstand me,” placated | Hawkins, drawing back; “I ain’t sayin’ you aire; I am only sayin’ that you aire | mighty like him, fer that is about his} manner of style,” This during the moment or two that Grimes lay floundering on the floor in| the wreck of the settee. He was now scrambling to his feet. “No, but I say he is,” he shouted, white with rage, as he jerked a gun from | his hip-pocket; “and he has got to own it, or—” “Hold on!” interposed Hawkins, jumping up and placing himself between them. ‘Don’t let yer temper git ther best of yer hoss sense,” he advised. “You don’t want any hemp in your’n, I know.” “He had no business to strike me—” “And you had no business ter tempt him, ef ye thought et was Kid-Glove Kris.” “ Thank this man for saving your life,” said the mayor, sullenly, as he shoved his gun back into his pocket. ‘I would have done it, in my first rage, sure as my hame is Grimes!” “Perhaps you will not call me a liar again,” suggested the prisoner, with as much sullenness. ‘It was piled on a lit- tle thicker than I could stand, and that capped the climax. I tell you again, and for the last time, that I am not the man you have taken me for.” The mayor was rubbing his injured neck, for the blow had been no genile one, Only for his office—with Hawkins out of the way—and the prisoner would have been laid dead at his feet as soon as he could have drawn a gun. “‘ Then tell me who in the mischief you are,’ the mayor insisted, hardly able to control his passion. “That I am not prepared to do.” “Not prepared? Why not?” “Tf I explain that, I may as well tell all. I will simply say that I am not yet ready to make myself known.” “And you still insist that you are not Kid-Glove Kris?” “Wor the last time—yes.” The mayor left off with fondling his in- jured neck long enough to give his head a vigorous scratch. ‘““Hawkins, do you still say he is not Kris Dursey? ”’ “You kin bet that I ain’t sayin’ he is, after what I have jist seen,’ was the evasive response. “Well, sir, if you are not Kid-Glove Kris you are enough like him to be his twin brother, is all I have to say. Ihave my own opinion still in the matter, how- ever.” “You are welcome to it.” “Will you answer some questions?” “That will be,according to what the questions are.” “ Well, for one, how and when did you get your clothes wet? They are barely dry.” “T have been in the water.” “Where, when, and how?” Hawkins. who knew the mayor well, could see that he was having all he could do to keep his temper down and his hand away from his gun. The enemy of Kid-Glove Kris before, for some reason, he was even more bitter against him now—certainly. believing that this man was he, and the wonder to Hawkins was that he managed to hold his temper as well as he did. The ex- mayor was ready for an outbreak any in- stant. ; , “Those are questions I cannot answer now,” was the answer. | . “Why in thunder can’t you?’ white’ Sport. | 7 with passion. “Do you forget that I am mayor of this town?” “T care not who or what you are, sir. When I am ready to make myself known, I will talk; not before. I have told you present.” “Tt does not answer.” “Tt will have to.” “Do you know what is going to hap- pen?” (a3 No.” “You will be tried to-morrow cn the charge of having killed Thomas Kenton, that is what.” “ Well, I think there will be some diffi- culty:about proving it.” * You do, eh?” “T am sure of it.” “You had a quarrel with him, you were missing on the morning he was found murdered, and this is the first that has been seen of you since—” “Suppose you stop right where you are, mayor,” the prisoner incerrupted. “You are bound to insist that I am Kid- Glove Kris, as you call him. For the very last time—I am not he,” “Well, taking your word for it that you are not, what will be the difference? You will be charged, as I have said, and ninety-nine out of every hundred men here in Hard Pan will hold that you are guilty of the crime and that you are Kid- Glove Kris.” “Then will be the time for me to prove that I am not either.” “Can you do it?” “Wait and see.” “Pah!” and the irate mayor took a turn up and down the room. “What did I say. first. sight, mayor? ” demanded Nate Hawkins. ‘ Didn’t I say it wasn’t Kid-Glove Kris? Et is hard to believe, I allow, after the lefter he guv you, but—” “He will suffer for that, curse him,” was the growl. “My humble opine is that you had bet- ter swoller it and call the ’count square. You called him a liar, and you got the result; that makes et even. But, say, Mister Man, what aire we goin’ ito call ye, ef you ain’t Kid-Glove Kris, as I agree ye ain’t?” “We'll call him Kid-Glove Kris, that is what we’ll call him, till he proves him- self somebody else,” snarled Grimes. “Call me anything you please,’ re- turned the prisoner, ignoriug the mayor and answering Hawkins. “Wull, I will call ye Sport Number Two, fer now.’ “Good enough.” “Come,” said the mayor, striding to the door. ‘“ Enough of this business for one dose.” “But he will want somethin’ ter eat,” suggested Hawkins. “He will get it when he gets his break- fast, not before—a lesson for the blow he struck mé. Do you hear, prisoner?” “T hear, sir.” “And you will hear more to-morrow, when you are brought to a hearing, be sure of that. We have an inquest toat- tend to first, and then the people will be eager enough to attend to you.” “An inquesi, you say? Has some fur- ther mischief been done here?” “Answer him if you Want to, Haw- kins,” snarled the mayor. “I am in no mood for talking. Cut it short, though.” He opened the door and stepped out. “Yes,” explained the ex-mayor; “ an- other murder has been done, and { opine thar’s some hyer would like to lay that to the door of Kid-Glove Kris, too, ef they could, but they can’t.” “Who has been killed now? you clear your friend?” “Why, Kris was a prisoner at White Horse about ther time ther job must ’a’ been done; that’s how et clears him, ef proof was wanted, which thar wouldn’t be, ef et was left tome. As ter who has been killed, he was a detective feller that had come from Denver to clear up t’other mystery.” _ ah Be | If Hawkins had been a closer observer, How do a LONE Tk ce yA § op si MR gl i ao ad

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he would have noted that the prisoner , gave an inward start. “There is more mystery, then, I should | say,’ he remarked. ‘Sorry stay for a chat; but, no matter, worthy mayor isina hurry. I’m glad to know there is at least one man in the town willing to believe me. Good-night.” Hawkins briefiy rejoined, stepped out- side, and the mayor locked the door. CHAPTER VIII. AN ESCAPE AND A DILEMMA, Mayor Grimes and Nate Hawkins had quite an animated discussion as they went back to the Metropolitan; but it you can ty : if your } ended as it had begun, the mayor firmly | convinced that the prisoner was indeed Kid-Glove Kris, and the ex-mayor stub- bornly contending that he was not. Really, the mayor appeared to have the best of the argument, for the ex-mayor could bring little or no proof to back up his asserz:icn. In build and in looks the prisoner was the very counterpart of Kid-Clove Kris, he had been found be- tween Ii:ard Pan and Devil’s Pass, and his clothes proved that he had been in the wa-er. Nevertheless, Hawkins stuck to his first assertion, although he admitted again, as he had done before, that the Jightning quickness with which the man had toppled the mayor over, in the jail, was very like what Kid-Glove Kris was quite capable of doing—in fact, that it had been very like Kid-Glove Kris’s style of using his fist. In spite of that, noweyer, he remained set in his opinion, end the mayor could not change him. Jn the course of an hour the mayor did send the prisoner something to eat, not so much out of sympathy as because he wanted him to be in trim for the hearing on the morrow, and when the man had ea.en he was handcuffed for the night and left to his meditations. The jail was such a strong affair that it was not thought necessary to place a guard, usually, but one was stationed be- fore the*door on this occasion. The prisoner was of more than usual ‘importance. Therefore, judge of the surprise when, next morning, the word went flying through the camp that Kid-Glove Kris had escaped! No one couid believe it true at first, ‘but it was no false rumor, as those who ran to ihe jail were able to ascertain to their satisfaction, if to their chagrin at the same time, While the mayor of the young city had much to say about the jail, it was really ‘under the keeping of the sheriff, and a deputy of his had made the discovery that the prisoner had given them the slip. What was stranger than all, there was the guardsman on duty, innocent of any knowledge of the escape, a what he . gaid was true, ‘The deputy had come at an eee hour - with the prisoner’s breakfast, and had found the guardsman at his post. A vw p. The guardsman had no key to the door. Exchanging morning greeting with the man, the deputy unlocked and opened i the door, when, to his dismay, he discov- ae _ expressed the greatest surprise, declar- | + bt) a ered that the place was empty, the pris- oner gone, On the floor lay the handcuffs, locked _ together just as they had been on the iman’s wrists, and the deputy certainly “had found the door secure. The guard _ ing most solemnly that he had not been -a minute away from his post, yet knew oe about the escape before that mo- Here was yet more mystery. * =" 1e word was eeigere one the mayor Kid- Glove Kris, the Sport. was the response. not have happened.” ' cited. Nate Hawkins, too, was consid- erably exercised. “What is the meaning of this?” the mayor cried savagely. “What in red-hot has been going on here, that the prisoner has got away?” demanded the sheriff. “Hawkins,” and the mayor turned fiercely upon the ex-mayor, ‘I believe that you have had a hand in this game. You were friendly with him.” * Wull, ye believe wrong,’ Hawkins re- sponded stoutly. surprise to me as et kin be to anybody. Ef thar is anybody ter hold ’countable fer et, it is Gil Johnson hyer.” This was the guardsman, who, poor fellow, was as pale as a ghost and tremb- ling at the knees. ““T—I don’t know nothin’ about et,” he declared. ‘I have been right hyer all night, pacin’ up and down and around, and I didn’t know et till Bob Bowman opened ther door.” “Tt don’t stand to reason,” averred the mayor. “The door was the only way by which he could get out, and it has been opened at some time or other dur- ing the night, and if you didn’t see it opened you must have been off your beat, or else you—” “Else what, Mayor Grimes?” “Or else you had a hand in it your- self.” The mayor looked hard at the fellow, but he stood the test. “IT didn’t have no hand in et,” he de- clared, ‘‘I thought he was safe in thar till Bowman found out he wasn’t.” “Did yow have a key to the door?” “No, sir; you knew I didn’t.” “What do you think of it, Hickey?” “Hang me if I know what to think of it,’ was the sheriff’s response. “No, nur me,” put in Hawkins. ‘‘ Hyer was the docr lockec, and hyer wur the handcuffs locked. EK. beats my time.” The mayor aud the sheriff both got at the guardsman, cursing ,roundly at him, but the fellow stuck stoutly to his decla- ration that he knew nothing about it whatever. And there they were. The prisoner way about it. “Bt is as much of a} believed you had a hand in it, Nate Haw- kins,” half-charged the mayor. ‘“ You were mighty friendly to Kid-Glove Kris.” “But, ding et, this man wasn’t Kid- Glove Kris!” “ Bah! tell that to a tenderfoot.” * And, even ef it was, how could I help him? [I had no key to ther jail, much | less to ther handcuffs.” ““T don’t know; [I don’t say sure it was you; shouldn’t think you would do such a thing; but who did doit? By thunder! the further we go the deeper.into mys- tery we get.” “T opine you are about right.” “There has got to be a clearing up,” averred the sheriff. “‘I have got to go away, Grimes, as you know, and I leave it all in your hands. That reward will have to be renewed.” “There is trouble enough over tie first reward yet.” ** How is that?” “Why, to whom am [I to pay it? Or am I to pay it at all? There are two sets of claimants.” “The deuce.” “Yes; the fellows who arrested Kid- Glove Kris at White Horse claim at least half of it, if it is paid at all, while the other fellows claim it all. red-hot about it.” “The first fellows have no claim to it.” “They hold. that. they have; they had the man first, and only for them the oth- ers would not have found him.” “Well, maybe there is something in that.” “But the second pair claim that the first pair did not earn it by delivering the prisoner up, which is true. enough, while they, the latter couple, did. And so they have it.” “ That’s so, I guess, Pete.” “Yes; but just there the first couple raises the question as to whether the man they brought here really was Kid-Glove Kris, since the prisoner himself denied it and Hawkins here supported him.” “Then they forfeit their part of the reward.” ' “No, not if we let them have their If we hold that this man gone, no one could tell when or how, and | was Kid-Glove Kris, then they want a the guardsman stating positively that of | share. If it is decided that he wasn’t the had not been out of sight of the door of | sport, then they claim that they depos- the jail the whole night from the time when he had come there on duty. It was a riddle. It was one they could not guess. And by thé time it came to them to look for tracks around the building, that was useless. — Not only the crowd of the night be- fore, but now this crowd again of the morning, had trampled everything so that it was useless to look for a clue in that direction. There was but one thing to do, in the way of doing something half-way sensi- ble, and that was to arrest the guard and put him in the jail himself, refusing to believe his version in the matter. Hither he had had a hand in the matter or he had been away from his post or asleep. But the fellow maintained that he was innocent of any one of the offenses charged, and took the late prisoner’s place with most earnést protest, declar- ing that the devil must have been at the bottom of it all, The only thing absolutely certain was that the prisoner was gone. The mayor and the sheriff and the oth- ers started back to the hotel, hot over the affair. “Tt beats thunder!” avowed the mayor. “Do you believe Gil Johnson knows more than he will tell?” “T believe he was asleep, that is what | I believe, and is afraid to own up to it,” “ Otherwise, it could “ And { dor’: see how it did happen, @ Nor 1.” a “ Mebby wi was about right,” offered wh ? ith | oe walking w 5 to their parts ited him dead at the bottom of Devil’s Inkhorn. See how it is?” “T see a chance to draw a line just jhalf-way between, Grimes, and declare the reward off. The first couple did not deliver him; there is a question as to the identity of the man the second couple brought. Declare it off, and offer it again.” And that, accordingly, was done. CHAPTER IX. THE INQUEST.—A MEETING. Then came the inquest. That was the next thing in order, and the camp was eager for it. Hard Pan was duly observant of the law in such cases, and by the time the inquest was called the people were in a ant fever. The inquest was held in the Metropoli- tan—that being the largest room in the young city—because there all might have opportunity to see and hear, or very many, at any rate. Witnesses had been notified, and were — in attendance—save the stage driver, who © had had to be off with his stage at day- ‘s light or a little after; and when the cor- oner had called the room to order he pro- _ ceeded forthwith to the business in hand. It was speedily accomplished. Miss Kenton, who was there in company with her step-mother and Lawyer Dougherty, testified to the discovery of the body ly- ing in the road, and the other passengers in the matter. Miss ton exhibited the letters taken from | dead man’s pocket, identifying | ( ae as letters written by ers D ois ihn: They are on eos res . 2s oe] 4 a Jy / ‘ yee 4S

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- never told me of his marriage.” x with you, at any rate. _ What you heard.” with him.” ve {2 “He did not hear.” __Kid-Glove I Kris the Sport. The body was now lying in its coffin, and the crowd passed around it in re- view, to see if any one there recognized the man. This occupied some time, and when at last there were no others to view the re- mains there had not been one who had ever seen the man in life. That he was a stranger needed no further argument. The case was given to the jury, who came to a decision without leaving their places—that David Coleman, a detective, from Denver, coming to Hard Pan totry to solve the mystery of the death of Thomas Kenton, had met his death at the hand of some person to the jury un- known. That was all—all that could be done. A funeral followed, Miss Kenton at- tending out of respect for the man who had died in her service, even though a stranger to her. Mrs. Kenton went with Myra, for com- pany, and after it was over they returned to their rooms at the hotel, where the widow had done all in her power to make the young lady feel at home. “Tt is too bad that the man was killed,” Mrs. Kenton remarked with a sigh, as they took seats. “Yes; too bad, indeed,” echoed Myra. ““He might have? been able to solve the mystery that overhangs my poor papa’s death,” “Yes, and have cleared that innocent man who is accused of the deed,” sighed the widow. ‘It is really too bad that circumstances should have directed sus- picion to him.” “Then you hold him ianocent, too— But you nave already assured me that you do. Oh! I am sure he did not do it, Marie—you said I should call you by your first name. I am sure he did not do it. He is too noble; no one with a face like that could do a ‘murder. a The widow dropped her eyes and slightly bit her lip while the younger woman spoke feelingly. “Like you, I cannot believe that he did it,” she assured. “I am not sorry ~ that he has escaped—if, indeed, it was he, and I do not see how there can be any doubt about that. But how did he get out of Devil’s Inkhorn? And how ' did ‘he effect his escape from the jail? I confess that I am greatly puzzled, and I _ would like to see these mysteries cleared away.” “There are more mysteries than these; the very air here is heavy with mystery,” murmured Myra. “What do you mean, dear?” re I might offend you, T fear.” “Offend me?’ in wonderment. “Tt was so strange that papa never told you that he had a daughter, and _ “We have already talked that over, Myra, and could arrive at no understand- ing. That was not what you meant in the remark you made just now. What did you mean?” “You will not be offended? It was ~ only a thought concerning something I heard on my way here, when the pris- _ oner was in the stage.” “Of course, I will not be offended— Pray tell me You know they said papa and Mr. > Baneay had a quarrel—” “Yes; Mr. Kenton had some words ett Well, they said it was because—be- _ papa thought he was too attentive poo. and—and—” ‘And what did Kid-Glove Kris say?” “Then it was Uncle Josh told you that, re ‘Tse. Well, it was so; but I assure you there - _ poor father far too well to give him the _ least cause. ras nothing in it. I loved your r such suspicion.” he widow aught the orphaned daugh-_ er breast and embraced her; but, she did so, her face took on an of most _maligant hatred, | as 9) é Vad € 1 Fgh tent e +i = (i a uence pernange Satin REM RCA Dee TE Gu I RR — SNES. oo CNR aR AS RE a dove, her face was like the face of a Fury! fore I show my own, sir. | pretty roughly handied on your account, and I feel that you OWe me ani wxp tion. . long time, if you are the man whom I was told to expect.” . We change the scene. | Up out of the gulch wherein reposed | tlard Pan, over the “ ridge” to the south, lay a pocket, barren and deserted. It lacked water entirely; only a few | scant scrubs existed here and there} among the rocks and boulders, and as it | also lacked gold, it was now seldom vis- | ited. Prospectors had been there time and | again, until every foot of it had been scrutinized, and, as absolutely no sign was to be found, they had pronounced it | altogether bad; and, as the place was | not easy of access, their word in the! matter was generally accepted. At the time of which we write, and about the hour marked by the break in | narrative, a man was seated here on a boulder, alone. He was one whom we have seen be- fore; a large, finely formed, handsome person under thirty years of age, with clean-shaved face and graceful mustache. His hair, eyes, atid mustache were black. There was a look of impatience on his face, and he seemed to act as if he was looking for some one who was late in coming. We have seen him before, but where? Was he the prisoner of the stage, who took the daring leap from the cliff? Was he ihe later prisoner of the jail, who had so mysteriously escaped during | the night? He was the one or the other, Presently he sat more erect, listening. Evidently some one was coming. He looked fixedly in a certain direc- tion, when, around a pile of boulders, he saw approaching his own very counter- part—his twin brother, as any one would have declared. The latter came forward, without a smile or look of recognition of any kind, and as he drew near he drew a brace of guns from beneath his jacket. This act was not hostile, however, for he reversed the weapors, and, on coming up, extend- ed them, butts presented, to the person on the boulder. He said never a word, and the man on the boulder recoiled a little, resting his left hand on the boulder, and thus they looked each other in the ore for a mo- ment. The one who had waited was the first to speak. ““What do you mean?” he asked. “T mean that you are to take your choice of these guns, and we will settle the matter,” responded the other, soberly. “Settle what matter?” in much sur- prise. “I am not aware that I have any difference with you, sir. yourself.” “No difference, That is just it exact- ly, sir. One of us must be the real man and the other his ghost, and I thought this would be about as good a way as any to settle the matter. I don’t know wheth- er I am myself, whether you are me, or how it is.” The other had to laugh. “As to that, I am in about the same uncertain state of mind, since seeing you,” he admitted; “ but I think your pro- posed plan would prove disastrous to one or both of us, for we both seem to be in the flesh and quite substantial.” “Well, maybe you are right,” joining him in his laugh and putting away his guns. “I don’t wonder that the people of Hard Pan were puzzled, and that you Pray explain dled accordingly. I doubt if two pins in a Hos ever looked more alike than you an I ” Kris?” ni Yes, And you?” “T suppose I will have to play second neater Two.” si ome then you object eh? Ih for the delay. camp, aitending the inquest of that poor fellow who was found murdered on the trail yesterday, trying to glean whatever else I could.” know. answer mine.” were taken for Kid-Glove Kris and han- | “Then you are sia real we idee iddle a oe be snore, as ses eta weet 9 F thouskt we could compare notes and join hands in playing this game to the end.” “T shall require to see your hand be- I have been You have kept me waiting a deuced “T am the man, and I beg your pardon I have been down in the “You have been down in the camp, you say? How is it that you were not ar- rested? ” “ Because they did not happem to rec- ognize me.” “Ah! I see. And the fellow who was found murdered—what was the verdict? I heard something about the master last night.” “Why, he was said to have been one David Coleman, a detective from Denver, who was coming to Hard Pan in the em- ploy of Miss Kenton to solve the mys- tery of her father’s death. sorry he was taken out of the field before he had a chance to investigate.” I’m mighty CHAPTER X. EXCHANGE OF CONFIDENCE. It was a strange interview. Seldom it happens that two persons looking so nearly alike are thrown to- gether. ‘ And yet it does happen now and again, and almost any one can bring to mind instances of the kind, or can recall faces he has seen that have been of striking similarity. Could the people of Hard Pan have seen the two men, as they were talking here together, they would have been puz- zled which one to arrest as’ being the true Kid-Glove Kris. Little wonder, deed, that they had been deceives in the man they had thrust into jail. in- After the words recorded tieere was silence for a few moments, The unknown was the first to speak. “TJ take it, then, that you hold your- self to be innocent of the marder of Thomas Kenton,” he intimated. “Yes, I do so say; how about you?” “What, would you hint that I may have done it?” “Not at all; but, then, I would like to I answered your questign; you “T did not do it, certainly.” > Can you prove that you did not do it?” “T can, if it becomes necessary for me to do so, Can you?” “No, if I get cornered and have to do so, I can’t. I am anxious to keep out of such a situation.” “Ts there any reason why you and re should not come to a full understand- ing?” e None thet I know of, unless you make it.” “What do you desire to do?” “T want to learn who really did kill Thomas Kenton.” “And until that matter is cleared up I am in danger of being arrested for you.” “You certainly are, unless you are discreet enough to keep your head under cover. On the other hand, am mistaken for you? May broad as it is long.” Rat if I it is as “I am a stranger in these parts.” “What business brought yon here? Where do you hail from, anyhow?” “Two questions that I am mot pre- pared to answer at this time [f you _ want help in the work you are nese : ing, though, I am your man.” pie “What work?” Waco ae ae id bcos up the mystery of Sheat ng A: der.” “Oh! I see. You might only get yo selt into jail again OC “In which a ea so +s

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“Certainly, for it would be tough to allow you to be hanged in my stead. And if I happened to be the one nabbed, you could return the compli- ment?” “As far’ as possible, most assuredly. I can well imagine that we will give the good people of Hard Pan no end of trouble, if we enter into partnership in this matter, particularly my friend the mayor.” “Ha! there speak about.” “What is that?.” “The mayor. He is no friend of mine, and you will want to look out for him all the time.” “Tt became aware of that last evening. He called me a liar, and I very promptly let him have my left in the neck and knocked him over.” “You knocked him down? I had not heard about that. I guess it was not generally known around the camp.” “Very likely not.” “Then you have made him all the more my enemy, and I shall have to be all the more on the alert for him. Like- wise you will have to be careful not to foul with him.” “Tll try to be on my guard against him. But, what was your particular bus- iness with me? I was asked to remain here until you came,” “TI want to befriend you.” “In what way?” “You look like me, therefore you are in, danger. I realized that and wanted to help you, if possible.” ““Very well.” In’ the first place, here is a snack to eat; next, here are a couple of guns for you—you have lost your own, of course. Then, if you are willing, I will assist you to disguise yourself.” “Well, you are dealing square with me, no mistake. I feel rather inclined to ‘bbe ashamed for not taking you more fully into my confidence—in fact, I think a mutual exchange necessary to our fur- ther confidence in each other.” “T am willing to meet you half way. Do you believe me innocent?” “JT have no reason to believe you guilty.” “Nor have I you.” “TI swear that I am innocent of any part or knowledge in the murder of ‘Thoman Kenton.” “And I the same. But how about the man who was found on the road and who has just been buried at Hard Pan as Wavid Coleman?” Sport Number Two, as Nate Hawkins twould have called him, gave a start. *“You don’t think that I killed him?” ‘the demanded, | “No; but some one else might ask you the question. Some one had a motive in killing that man.” “ Undoubtedly.” “And was not his murderer also the slayer of Mr, Kenton?” “How do you make that out?”’ “Who else would have any dread of ‘a detective to investigate the case?” “But how could any one know that he was a detective from Denver, coming here a stranger, as he did?” “You ask me more than I can answer. But it was just one of two things: Hither some one did know, and laid for- him, or else he was not David Coleman at all.” “You are now getting deeper into mystery than ever. If not what he seemed, how came he by the detective’s papers? Who, then, murdered him, and for what reason? And, if he was not Coleman, what has become of the de- tective? Can you explain?” “ Perhaps this fellow met Coleman and lheld him up at a disadvantage and ‘robbed him—mayhap murdered him.” “For what reason?” “He may have recognized him,, and “may have had good reason to fear him. But Coleman may not have been mur- dered, though the other fellow’s inten- tion was good enough, and he may yet is something I. want to ae Phihasy i i i a rather | / Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. SSS turn up. In that case, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to join hands with him in the working out of these mysteries.” “ And what If he-became convinced, on hearing the story of the murder of Thomas Kenton, that you are indeed tne man who did it, and set about hunting you down? There would be mighty little chance of working together with him in that case, I take for granted. But, you could easily set him right on that score.” “ How?” “ By taking him into your confidence, telling him where you were on the night of the murder, why you went away just at that time, and where you have been since.” “ Well, I would do that, conditionally.” “And what would be the condition?” | “That he would prove to my satis- faction that he was indeed Coleman, the detective.” “T have no doubt he would undertake to do that. But there would be about as much a lack of confidence as between you and me, I imagine.” “That there is a lack of confidence between us is your fault. You know who I am, but you keep me in the dark as to your own identity. If we are to work together, we must up visors. Are you David Coleman?” “T am David Coleman, the detective! ” CHAPTER XI. PLEDGING THEIR SUPPORT. The two men at once clasped hands. And, as they clasped hands, they each laid a hand upon the other’s shoulder. Thus they stood, in silence, for a mo- ment, looking into each other’s eyes, as if each was trying to read the inward thoughts of the man before him, “T felt sure of it,” said Kid-Glove Kris, as they gave a final shake and parted hands. “And you are a shrewd fellow,” said the other, ‘“ It will be a pleasure to work with you.” “Then you fully trust me?” “ Fully.” “What am I to call you, as an offset for my own handy appellation?” “T am called Detective Dave by my friends. You may apply the same name to me, if you like.” “And I like thoroughly. We are now coming to an understanding, and if we are not able to clear this matter up it will be funny. But we have got work to do.” “JT am well aware of that.” “Let me hear your story.” “You have no other confidant? ” “None; what you have to tell will re- main with me,” “Very well. I am fully convinced that you are a square fellow, that you are levaeant of the crime that is set down to your cred.t, and that you are thor- oughly in earnest in your expressed in- tention of getiing at the truth of the matter.” “You may safely pin your faith to those points, Detective Dave.” “Very well again. Now, I am the man whom Miss Myra Kenton engaged to come here to ferret out the mystery of her father’s murder. I was coming in- cognito, of course, and thought it better, for my purpose, to make the last stage of the journey on foot, so as to drop into the camp unnoticed. Hence, I avoided the stage and tramped.” “*T see.’ “ Well, yesterday morning the fellow who was found dead on the trail when the stage came along held me up at the point of a gun and made me hand over my little all. It was as you guessed; ie came upon me unawares and took me at a disadvantage, and there I was. I had to comply, as the best of us must under like conditions. But his last trick was something unlooked for. He suddenly struck me on the head with his gun, and my light went out.” “That was rough.” “Rather. When I came to I was lying in the water with my nose and mouth barely above the surface, thanks to the fact of my having lodged against a sunk- en rock with my shoulders; and I was almost chilled to the bone. I got out, somehow, and having nothing to warm me up, I took to runhing up and down to get my blood in circulation. When I felt a little better I turned my face in this direction, and was trudging along painfully enough when two horsemen came up behind me and took me a pris- oner as Kid-Glove Kris.” “That must have been a surprise.” “Tt was. I thought they were joking at first, but I speedily found out that they were in dead earnest. Then I thought they must be drunk, but there was nothing to prove such to be the ease —in fact, the contrary. I protested, but was only laughed at, and at last I had to come to the conclusion that I had fall- en into the hands of a brace of lunatics. I had never heard of such a man as Kid- Glove Kris—if Miss Kenton knew any- thing about you she did not mention it to me, so I was all in the dark. Then when I got to Hard Pan I thought all creation had gone crazy, and— But, you know the rest.” “Yes, I know the rest. Why did you not declare who you were?” “Why, for the reason that I wanted to preserve my incognito if possible, you see.” 4 “True enough; needless question to have asked. Now, the mystery—who killed the man who waylaid you, and for what reason?” “Are we sure that the dead man was the one who theld me up?” “Do you think there is reason to doubt it? ” tn Hardly; but I did not see the body, you know.” “*T did, and can describe him to you,” “Do so.’ Kid-Glove Kris complied, ; “The same man, not a doubt of it. But how did you get to see the body?” “T was at the inquest, as I told you, The public were requested to view the re- mains, to see if any one had ever seen the man in life, and I fell in with the procession.” “T might have known without asking. We are not exerting our wits very great- ly, I gvess. “ Because it is: not necessary in this exchenge,” “ Perhaps.” “There, then, we run up against an- other mystery. Some one hereabouts knew the man who held you up, and had a reason for removing him. Who was i?’ “That igs for us to find out. Kid- Glove Kris, we have got our hands full here, what with keeping out of the clutches of the sheriff and his deputies, and at the same time trying to unravel the snarl.” “You are right, Detective Dave.” “ Well, you have my story; now what about your own? How much are you willing to reveal to me in return?” “You have a claim upon me for the whole business.” “But I shall not press the claim be-~ yond what is reasonable, if there is any- thing you ought to keep secret.” “Wor the sake of a full confidence in me it is only right that you should know © everything that I can tell you. There is: enough mystery without mine.” “As you please.” “ Besides, I need your help in a private matter.” oe Ha! ” “Yes, there is still another chapter to unfold—as it were—in which I am con cerned.” “Well, let me have the whole situa- tion, then. If you need my help I none the less need yours, so we are about evenly matched. Perhaps we have been thus thrown together for a purpose,” “ Perhaps; who can say.” ‘ enAily a rr a a a ke i a Bt nace —

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oF fee) * Well, your story.” “You will not want it all; merely what concerns us in the present business.” “As you’ please.” “We can unfold ourselves to each oth- | er fur-her, aS we get better acquainted | and have more time. know, and pleasure after.” “Very well.” “Here, then, is the thing in a nut- shell: Some sneaking cur is after my life, and I have thus far been unable to tell who it is and what the motive. No | less than three attempts have been made, the last on the night when Thomas Ken- ton was murdered.” ** Indeed! ”’ * Just as I tell you. I got on track of the fellow, and made it lively for him for a time, but he eluded me at last. I kept on after him for a good while, and re- mained on the ground in disguise to catch him, even after he had given me the slip, but at last I had to give it up. I then set out on my return to Hard Pan, when I was arrested at White Horse. ) “Now, you may believe it or not, but that was the first I knew of the death | of Thomas Kenton. I took in the whole | situation at a glance, and saw how use- | less it would be for me to tell my story | then, for who would believe it? All | circumstances were against me, so I re- solved to hold my tongue and save my | breath, and lie low for another chance at my secret foe. The fact that the at- | tempt had been made on my life the | same night when Kenton was murdered, | made me think that his murderer and my foe were perhaps one and the same person. I knew it would never do to be taken to Hard Pan a prisoner with the populace excited and the mayor against me, so I took that desperate leap from the stage, and— Well, here I am,” “And here is a thought: Maybe Mayor Grimes is the man who sought your life and killed Kenton.” “No, .no, you wrong him there, He and Kenton were good friends, and he has not been absent from Hard Pan. No, no, it is deeper than that, and it is for you and me to work it out.” CHAPTER XII. A CHAPTER OF COMEDY. Hard Pan had a unique character in the person of one Billy Blow—that was his real name—and another in his wife. When a man and a woman are united in the bonds of holy matrimony it is said that they are made one. This is all right and proper and quite as it should be, but in this instance Mrs. Blow was the one. She wore the breeches, not only fig- uratively but literally—if a pair of vol- uminous bloomers can by any stretch of the imagination be called breeches, and the rest of her attire was not greatly unlike that worn by her husband. She was a woman’s rights advocate, and posed as a model of woman emancipated. A member of a “new women’s club” somewhere, she was likewise a subscriber to two or three publications that boomed the cause of her down-trodden sex—to the tune of two dollars a year each; and what she couldn’t think of on her own account in the way of argument for her cause, these seditious journals supplied her with. At first she had had the complaint in only a mild form, but the symptoms had Tapidly heralded the advance of the malady, until at last it had become chronic, Mr. Blow had objected, but his object- ing had only served to fan the flames, as “it were. Finding his objections overruled, he had gradually given way. Now, this same Blow—surnamed Will- jam—had to that time been a faithful, hard-working man, who had minded his own business strictly and had supported his wife as became their station. He had been a stay-at-home-at-nights, / a u } a oe / bic Saco Site sacat wit Business first, you + Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. seldom entered the saloons or indulged | in anything stronger than the coffee con- tained in his dinner pail, and had been an all-around good and worthy citizen. But now all that was changed. He no longer worked and the saloons had an attrac- tion for him. The change had been gradual, course, but it had been effectual. The couple had no children—a bless- ing, under the circumstances, and Mrs. Blow was getting about all the freedom her soul had craved. She, by the way, called herself Mrs. Brown-blow—her maiden name having been Brown and she having the fad, along with her other afflictions, of not allowing her maiden identity to be lost sight of altogether. As Billy had gradually sought conso- lation and companionship in the flowing bowl and the saloons, as home had grad- ually become too new-womanish to be home any longer, the family income had gradual'y dwindled, as he earned less | and spene more. Here was a chance for Mrs. Brown- Blow to ccme to the rescue and prove herself equal to the emergency 4S a new woman. Indeed, she found she would have to hustle or go hungry, so she began by taking a boarder or two to replenish the depleted excnequer, and ended by opening up a boarding-house to the full capacity of her abode. Atgthe time of our story the change had been made about complete, and Billy Blow seemed quite content to have things as they were. He did not have to toil, neither spin, and yet he was clothed—after a fashion —and fed. He had nothing to complain of, save perhaps that he did not have much money to handle, New-comers to the camp looked upon him as a good-for-nothing, and commis- erated Mrs. Brown-Blow upon her hard lot; but when once they heard the story and learned that she had brought about the change by her reach for freedom they generally gave her cold sympathy. It was the afternoon of the day of which the preceding chapter treated, and Billy Blow was sunning himself in front of the Metropolitan Saloon. He was ragged, half-primed—as he would have expressed it—and,.in con- sequence, happy. Not a large man, he looked even small- er since he had gone to the bad. Presently a shadow fell athwart his person, and he looked up. Mrs. Brown-Blow stood before him, arms akimbo. Other loungers-around, for this was the “city center,” as we have described it, roused up with the expectancy of seeing a little fun. There she stood, her mannish-hat on her héad, her mannish coat flung open and exposing her mannish vest—which, by the way, did not inclose a very man- nish bosom—and her legs apart in a very mannish fashion, She was a tall woman, plenty in flesh, and had been accounted as not bad look- ing—before the change, when she wore proper attire as became her station and was simply Mrs. Blow. Like the pictures of “before” and “after” to some pat- ent nostrum, she might be called the “ before.” Her expression was vinegary. “You Bill Blow!” So she fired at her erstwhile lord and master, in three separate and distinct discharges—as it were. Billy looked up at her in a half sullen, half stupid fashion, as if resenting any interference with his innocent indul- gence in a sun bath, if that suited him. “You! Bill! Blow!” *Wull, Mrs. Brow-Blow, what is ut?” Billy lazily inquired. “You a-settin here a-lazin’ away your time, and a-leavin’ me to do all the work of the house—” “Go right ahead, Mrs. Brown-Blow, go right ahead,” said Billy, with a wave of the hand indicative of her perfect of } 11 liberty as far as he was concerned, “I’m not interferin’.” “No, I know you’re not, you brute!” she fired at him. “You have sunk so low that you can’t realize what a state you have come to. You had orter be most heartily ashamed of yourself, to see your wife working to support you, while you jist set all day and do noth- bt ie “You have got what ye was dyin’ to git,’ drawled Billy. ‘‘ You wanted to take that business out of my hands; you wasn’t happy till you’d done it; don’t let me interfere with any of your ar- rangements, Mrs. Brown-Blow. You have got ther hull shebang to yerself.” “That is jist what’s the matter; I want you to come home this minnit and help me.” “ What ter do?” “T have taken two more boarders, and some changes has got to be made; do you understand? ” “Wull, make ’em, Mrs. make ’em,”’ with another wave of the hand expressive of his full and free con- sent to anything and everything. “ Don’t let me stand in the way.” “As if I, a free woman, would ask your approval!” “That is it, Mrs. Brown-Blow, that is jist it. I wonder that ye did. Go right ahead.” “But I want your help; can’t you un- derstand? I want your help. These two men insist on the side room on the ground floor, so they can come and go when they please.” “Let ’em take et, Mrs. Brown-Blow, let ’em take et,’ with another conde- scending wave of the hand. “ Don’t fer a minnit think that I’m goin’ to kick; let ’em have the hull ranch, if they want it, fer all of me. Go right ahead and do jist as you please.” “Humph! = as wouldn’t!” “Then why the mischief don’t ye? . What be ye botherin’ me about ‘et fer, I’d like ter know?” “Bill Blow, you’re a fool! You have allowed your brains to git so rum-addled that you don’t know nothin’! You don’t even ’preciate you wife as you’d orter!” Bill simply shrugged his shoulders and crossed his legs the other way. “Here I am, doing business alone and keeping you in your laziness, which many another woman wouldn’t do, I’d have you to know; and you refuse to come and lend me a hand with movin’ beds and the like.” “Movin’ beds? This is the first you have said anything about et, Mrs. Brown- Blow. Whar is your Chinee? Why don’t you call on him?” Mrs. Brown-Blow employed a Chinese cook and man of all work. She no longer cooked. “ He had to go to pray to his joss this afternoon, that’s where he is, and I ain’t got no help and that room has got to be got ready—kin you git that through your thick head?” “Oh! I see; it is ther Chinee that’s ter blame,” said Billy, looking wise. “ Had to go pray to his joss, had he? Mrs. Brown-Blow, I be gummed if I was a ’mancipated woman if I would have any Chinee around me that had to go off to pray to his joss—no, [ be gummed if I would!” ’ The new woman stamped her foot and flung her arms in despair. “But he has gone, I tell you,’ she shonted at him, “and that room aas got to be got ready before the two men come. Can’t you understand?” “Understand ut perfectly, Mrs. Brown- Biow. and I say T be gummed ef I would stand et, if I was a new womaa, like you! Why don’t he tie his joss around his blamed yaller neck, and carry ut with him? What business has he got to sneak off in that fashion—” , * Bill Blow, you git less and less sense every day of your life! You don’t know balf as much as you did when I first married you, and you didn’t know a — — ES FETS itnticnpeat Brown-Blow, if a new woman

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; maroc matter, and that is something _ that I want to talk with you about.” 12 whole lof then! But J’ll fix you; you have ab got to sleep in the outshed now, do you undersiand—in the outshed. Two new boarders are goin’ to take the side room and the man who was there will take yours. Kin you understand that?” “Make your own arrangements, Mrs. Brown-bicw, make your own arrange- ments,” with a dismissing wave, and Billy closed his eyes to continue his bath, the new woman stalking away in a manrish fashion and in a decidedly mannish passion. The crowd enjoyed it immensely, wink- ing and nodding to one another, but were careful to make no remark loud enough to reach the ears of the emanci- pated woman. As her steps receded Billy slowly lift- ed his head and looked, and as slowly winking his eye, settled down for an- other siesta, CHAPTER XIII. EXPRESSING A SUSPICION. Hard Pan was mystified beyond meas- ure. We must turn back a little and take up the thread of events immediately fol- lowing the funeral of the supposed David Coleman, Certain events have been mentioned— a short interview between Myra Ken- ton and her young step-mother, intro- duced for a purpose; and the chapter of comedy with which the preceding in- stallment closed. That, too, contained something of ' deeper moment than appeared upon the ‘surface, But, to turn back. After the funeral of the supposed Cole- man, when Mrs. Kenton and Myra re- turned to their rooms at 'the hotel, Mayor Grimes and Nate Hawkins walked away together in the direction of the Wingate Mines. These mines, by the way, were the Kenton property. Since the death of Mr. Kenton they had been under the supervision of a young man named Edward Sawyer. Grimes and Hawkins had no object in going in that direction, beyond a desire to separate themselves from the crowd for a little private consultation regard- ' ing matters of moment. Hawkins was a man of hard horse sense, a fair representative of the old original population of the camp. In spite of the fact that they differed upon almost every question that arose, Grimes often consulted him. Grimes: represent- ed the newer element in the young city, - .which had overthrown the older. “Now, Nate,” said Grimes, “I want to know just what you think of this matter, all the way through, from begin- ning to end. As mayor of this town, I have got to do something to clear it up. It ‘has gone just about far enough, now, and the sooner it is stopped, the better. Now, you have got a long, hard head, and I want your candid opinion of the whole business,” ‘Wall, durn et, Pete,” Hawkins, “we have talked et bone dry fifty times at least, and thar ain’t noth- in’ new, ’cept the mystery of this detect- ive feller we have jist planted, and that of ’tother feller’s escape out ov ther jail. That, and the fact that you and . Me can’t hit it about the ‘dentity of that chap. Glove Kris, and I am jist as sartai You hold that he was Kid- that et wasn’t him, and thar we stick.” — “Tt is useless for us to talk about that, - for we both have our opinions about it. How he got out of jail, though, is quite “Tf thar is anything left to talk on; ve have picked et down to the pinfeath- | , | then?” as ane e pe ” : ae ny t is jist = ‘too many iad me, | responded | | carefully, | ntil | _Kid-Glove ‘Kris, the Sport. — * You hinted at first that you thought IT had had a hand in the matter. Have you got that chunk of foolishness out of yer head? If.ye have, mebby we kin agree.” “Yes, I take that all back, Nate._I | was hot and hasty when that came out.” | “All right, “Well, about Johnson?” “Thar’s one of three things sartain sure,” “Name them,” “They have been named a’ready: He had a hand in et, was away from his post, or else was sound asleep.” “We agree, for a wonder. But, now, to narrow it, which of the three do you think it was? Let us see if we can agree any further in the matter, and I hope we can.” : “Wull, to begin with, I don’t believe he had a hand in it himself.” “You don’t?” ie 1 “Wull, I have knowed Gil Johnson we'll let that drop, then.” | fer a long time, and I pride’ myself that | I kin tell purty straight when a man is lyin’ and when he is, tellin’ the cold truth.” “And you think he told the truth?” “When you ’cused him of havin’ a hand in it, he met your eye straight as a die, and declared that he hadn’t. I know him, as I say, and I know hie told you the truth when he saia that. @As to his ‘bein’ asleep or away from his post, I ain't so sartain.” “ Well, I see we are bound to differ.” “Then you think he had a hand in 1 ae dhs ce I do.” “You are wrong, Pete, dead wrong. Besides, he had no key, you know that.” “So he said, and so we thought, but was it so? He had time enough to make away with the key, you know. Some- body may have supplied the key.” \* Hillo! Then you have got another s’picion in some other direction, have ye? ” “No, no; do not understand me that way; | am onty guessing.” “Wull, it is a wide guess, mayor.” “How do you know it is?” *“T have told you—because I know Gil didn’t lie when he looked you in the eye and said he hadn’t a hand in it. ” “Well, we are coming at it, Nate. Do you think, if we go to’ the jail together to see him, that you can tell which of the other theories is true and which false?” “Mebby I kin, Pete.” “Then let us go there, and we will see. I will put the questions to him, and you can watch for the truth as it ap- pears in his face.” They stopped and turned back toward the jail. They had gone nearly all the way to the mine office and buildings, and as they turned a voice hailed them. “Mayor Grimes—Nate!” -They stopped and looked. _ It was Ed. Sawyer, the acting manager of the mines. He came out of the office and walked in their direction, and they waited for him to come up. “Thought you were coming to the office,” he said as he came up. “ You are the man I want to see, mayor, but I can speak in front of Nate, of course. I want to say something about that jail mystery.” “ Ha! what do you know?” Grimes exclaimed and demanded. “Not much, but maybe something that will throw a little light upon the mystery of t hat man’s escape.” Why xian you mention it before, _“ Because I didn’t attach any impor- | tance to it till I got to thinking it over I was up here at the office last night, at. work |» y | will not do. “When I went to the hotel, a woman entered just ahead of me, letting her- self in with a key by the side door. The front way is’ always open, you know, and she could have gone in that way, the same as I did. It looks as if she did not desire to be seen.” Well?” “That is all.” “Thunder! what to?” “That is according to how you look at it. I have just guessed who that wo- man was.” “You have guessed who it was—that If you did not know her, your evidence will be of no use—that is to say, would be of no use, if you had any further knowledge.” “TI did not recognize her at the time, but now I am quite sure that it was Mrs. Kenton. If that is true, just put two and two together. She knew that Kid- Glove Kris had been arrested, and, if rumor be true, she would have some slight interest in freeing him.’ “And would you dare to go to her and name this suspicion?” “Well, no, that wouldn’t do, but I thought you might work on it quietly and see if there is anything in it. She might have bribed Gil Johnson to help the map out, and, naturally, he wouldn’t. give lit away—you couldn’t draw it out of him by force. Don’t mention it, mayor; wouldn’t have told you if I had thought you would; hut just look into it and see if there is anything in it. If she was out at that hour, where was she, and for what purpose?” ee does that amount CHAPTER XIV. TWO FACTS HIT UPON. Having said his little say, Mr. Saw- yer waved his hand and ae to re- turn to the office. Mayor Grimes looked after nia with a scowl, and then he and Nate Hawkins looked at each other for a moment in silence. The mayor was the first to speak. , “Well, what do you think of that?” he demanded, as they started on in the direction of the jail. “How close did he strike to your own idea?” asked Nate. “To my idea?” “Yes,” “What do you mean?” “ Jist what I ask ye—how close does he strike to your own suspicion in the matter? ” “ Well, you will have to make it plain- er than that. I am not good at riddles, and never was. I am not aware that I have mentioned that I had a suspicion.” “No, ner ye didn’t need to. I knowed it ; “You knew it?” “é Yes. ” “ae How? ” “When you said somebody miicht a” supplied him with a key. Don’t ye re- member, I asked if you had a suspicion in another direction? ther widdy ter once.” y Yes, and you said it was a wide guess.” “JT know I did.” - I lighted onto : “Then how do you bring the two ideas ois together to make anything out of it?” “See hyer, Pete, know that this hyer widdy had a sneak- in’ likin’ fer _Kid-Glove Kris. If any- body would ’a’ helped him out of ate she was the one.” “But, you hold that it was not ae at all.” “She didn’t know that, or, ruther it was him,” “Well?” “Wall, E said that I didn’t bel that Gil had a hand in it. But, . [he 8’ k was as ras asicep eh ‘icion that ther woman had a » got ee off his gu feb it van you ea you know and oe she thought the same as you Hoy that)

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- truth this time.” E — denied. erg! Ot ain’t no use, Gilbert, I tell ye,” ae ites tt eae was away from yer a 5 ey 08 freee pong et ee em Kid-Glove 1 Kris, _the Sport. “Et would be funny ef ye could,” “In the first place, that woman’s hus- band has been murdered, and she would | not take the risk of letting out any man that had not positively cleared himself of the suspicion.” “But she believed him innocent; said so.” “No matter, all she was insisting on was a fair trial. No, you and Ed on the wrong track, there.” “Well, I hope so. But we'll find out, mebby, when we git to the jail. You take the lead in the talk, and I’ll keep my eyes open to see when you are hot and when you are cold, as they used ter say in the old game when I was a kid.” “All right, and .we’ll soon be there.” A few moments more, and they were at the jail. The mayor had the key, or one of them—for there were more than ono, and he opened the door and they en- tered. Gil Johnson was pacing the floor, chafing under his confinement, and he greeted them with no friendly show of spirit. His actions certainly bespoke his innocence. “Well, Gil, how aré you .making it go?” the mayor cheerfully inquired. “Cussed slow,” was the growl, “I 8’pose when you git tired of keepin’ me hyer, you will let me out.” “T’ll let you out this minute, if you will own up to the truth so we can come at the bottom of this mystery. We want to know how that man got out of here,” “And I have told you that [I don’t know.” “Yes, but that don’t go down, you know. It was your business to be on the lookout, and he couldn’t get out of here without your knowing it.” “He did, though, all the same. He was simply gone when Bob opened the door, and that’s all I know about it. It is a mystery to me, jest as much as it is to you, and more.” “®t don’t stand to reason, Gil,” put in Nate. “Can’t help it, Nate, it is gospel fact, every word of it, jest as I tell ye.” “You swear that you didn’t let him out, do you?” asked the mayor. “Yes, I swear it, hard and fast.” “Well, taking. that for true, one of two other things is positive.” He waited a moment, “What’s them?” the asked. ““You were either asleep—” “T swear to man I wasn’t asleep.” “Or else you were away from your post far enough so that you did not know what was going on here.” “No, on my word I wasn’t. I tell ye it was jist as I have said; he got out without my knowin’ how he got out, and the first I knowed of it was when Bob opened the door.” Nate had given the mayor a sign. “That is altogether out of reason, Gil,” the mayor urged. “ Admitting that you were not asleep, which I am inclined to believe, there remains me one otuerc fact that you must have been away from the door, for he came out by the door and no other way.” : “No, I—” “Will you swear to it?” “What is the use? But, yes, if I must, I will swear—” “Don’t swear to a lie, Gil,” interrupt- ed Nate Hawkins. “ We have hit the she guardsman “ No, on my—” , “Et ain’t no use, Gilbert. The best thing you kin do is to make a full show- in’’of yer whole hand. Who was ‘the woman you talked with about—” The prisoner gave a start. “What woman?” he demanded. “Ther one you talked with about one o’clock this mornin’—” “TJ didn’t ‘talk with no woman about one o’clock this mornin’, ” the prisoner | are’ | post, or the prisoner couldn’t away. And thar was a woman in the case—”’ “How do you know thar was, Nate Hawkins?” ‘““No matter how, long as we do know it. Come, now, own up like a little man—” “T don’t own up to nothin’,” with a snarl, and he continued pacing the floor. “T have said my say, and you won’t take my word, so make the most of it.” “That settles ét, mayor,” said Haw- kins, “Settles what?” asked Grimes. “You won’t git nothin’ more out of Gii, so we mought as well vamose.” “But he has got to tell!” cried the mayor, showing anger. “I must know how that man got out of here.” “T don’t know nothin’ to tell,” de- clared ‘the prisoner. ‘Keep me here till I rot, and my answer will still be the same. I tell ye it is a mystery to me, Mayor Grimes.” “Come on,” urged Iawkins. ‘ Thar ain’t nothin’ to be made hyer.” “But, what about Johnson?” the mayor .asked, * That is fer you to say,” responded Hawkins. “Ef it was me, I would let him go. He swears to what he says, and we can’t prove nothin’ against him.” He gave Grimes a wink as he said it. “Well, I will let him go, I guess,” the mayor decided. ‘“ Maybe you are telling the truth, Gil. If you are, it would be rough on you to keep you here for noth- ing. Git!” He freed the man and let him go, and the fellow wen't off sullenly. “That was it,” said Nate, as he and the mayor left the building a moment later. “ He was away from his post, and thar was a woman in the case. [’ll sor- ter keep an eye on him, on ther sly.” CHAPTER XV. MYRA MAKES A CONFESSION. The interview between Mrs, Kenton and Myra about this time was broken off abruptly, to introduce the scene in the barren pocket at that particular place. We left them in each other’s embrace, Myra with her face buried upon her young step-mother’s shoulder, and the widow with a look of hatred upon her countenance, There was no mistaking that expression; it boded ill for Myra Kenton. It might mean her death. And yet, as said,,there was nothing in the woman’s voice to betray it, and when, presently, Myra raised her head and their eyes met, the evil look had vanished and in its stead was an expres- sion of tenderness and love. Plainly, then, Mrs. Kenton was a dangerous woman. “No, I couid hardly believe it, after I saw you,” said Myra. “Papa was cer- tainly mistaken, and people should not say such things.” “Nothing in it, my dear, I assure you. But your father was very fond of me, and he was of a jealous nature. I will tell you all about it, if you eare to listen.”” “No, no, do not speak of it further; that would indicate that I do not fully trust you.” “Nonsense, my dear. trust me,” “Indeed I do, now.” “Well, then, let me tell you. It is no long story; it can be told in a few words. Your father’s time and attention were greatly taken up at the mines, you must know, and I was left a great deal of the time alone. There is very little company I know you do a’ got | here—company of our kind, you under- stand. I was introduced to Mr. Dursey, | and he used to talk with me on the | piazza. Once or twice he walked with me as far as the mines. That was all; not another thing 'to cause jealousy; displeased I avoided Mr, Dursey ‘all I Could r4n ah and, as soon as I saw your father was} ¥ “But—” ; “What, dear?” “T was on the point of asking an im- pertinent question.” “No, it cannot be that, so ask it. Let me clear myself in your sight; I care nothing for what others may think or say.” “T was going to ask you if he further forced his attentions on you.” “Why, no, he took the hint,” “And it was after that that papa quarreled with him?” “Yes. I will tell you how,that was: I rode up the gulch one afternoon—I am very fond of riding; are you? We will go out often. As I was going to say—I went up the gulch one afternoon, and rode farther than usual. On the way home my saddle girth broke, and I had to walk home, carrying the saddle—or, at any rate I would have had to carry it if I had not fallen in with Mr. Dursey. It was quite accidental. It was getting late, and he walked back to the camp with me. He could not fix my saddle, and I could not ride his, and he would not ride and see a lady walk.” “Of course.” “Well, it was after night when we got here, and Mr. Dursey went right to your father and delivered me, ag it were, safe and sound back into his keep- ing, telling him all about it. But your father’s jealousy was aroused, and this unfortunate oecurrence made it only the worse. He abused Mr. Dursey, and by so doing heaped insult upon me, but I forgave him because I loved him and understood how very fond he was of me. Mr. Dursey acted the part of a gentleman throughout, and withdrew as gracefully as possible, not even resent- ing anything further than to defend my good name. And that was all, my dear,” “Too bad it should have happened.” “Yes, indeed. Then followed your father’s mysterious murder, and the sus- picion fell at once upon Kid-Glove Kris. Can you wonder that I cannot believe him guilty of the crime?” “Indeed, no. Do not I hold the same view?” “ Yes.” “What can you tell me about the gen- tleman, Marie—I call you by your name, though I feel I should say mother.” For a single instant a look, hard to de- scribe, came into the woman’s eyes. The next moment she sweetly smiled. Myra had noticed the look, and she did not know how te interpret it. “Did I not tell you ‘to call me by my first name?” she asked. “Indeed, I requested it of you. You quite startled’ me by the word ‘mother, by reminding me of my own, that name to me; let us be more as sis- ters. There is not so great a difference in our ages.” “And I beg your pardon, Marie, But what can you tell me about Kid-Glove Kris?” “Well, he is a gentleman in manners, but he is a professional sport, if you know what that means. In his case it means that he lives by gaming, or any other manner of getting money out of sport.” : “Then he is not honest?” “There you mistake; they say he is honest ‘to the penny, and as honorable as honest. But why do you ask these things?” 4 Because—because, ‘I feel an interest No, no, do not apply in him. I am sure he did not kill papa, and for that reason I feel sorry that the should be thought guilty of having done the deed.” “Ts that all?” “ All?” na “Yes, ” The girl hung her head, and ‘her face — was suffused. “T fear it is not all, my dear,” sald the other. “I am a woman myself, you must not forget.” Myra, looking up into her face with all Psat re It on do, tell. e what to. “Then you read the truth?” nhad .

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14 Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. TT SE ED fe . Hy | : + do. You are a woman, and you know I locked. There it was, however, and, as i my mind. Of course, it cannot be of any consequence.” was helpless against it.” “Then you do love him, do you?” you see, it was addressed to me.” He ‘held it up so that they might see, “IT suppose it must be that. I cannot; not yet taking the contents from the en- dismiss him from my thoughts, and I} velope. fee] as if I would die if I thought I would never see him’ again.” “You poor, dear child, how very un- fortunate it is. You must know that he is not your equal—that a marriage with him would be utterly out of the ques- tion. You must dismiss him from your thoughts.” ; “Impossiile, impossible. He is a part of my own life, I am sure of it. Oh, I wish I had never come here,” She buried her face in her hands. The instant she did so, that malignant expression came again into the face of her companion, But it quickly. vanished, and once more she caught Myra to her breast, with all the warmth a mother could have shown. And she not only embraced, but fondly kissed her. Nothing but the fullest confidence could have led Myra to open her heart to her as she had done. “Well, there is only one cure for it,” said Marie. ‘‘ You will be thrown into his company, no doubt, if he is cleared of the suspicion, so that he can come here openly, and you will soon find that -it is impossible.” “Do you want to break my heart quite?” the girl asked. “ Break your heart?” ni Yes.” “How?” “You mention the thing I least of all desire. Can you not understand me?” “Ah! then you would throw yourself away upon him, if possible? Well, well, love will not pay heed to reason. I pity you, my child, is all I can say. The fut- ure must take care of itself.” “But we must save him,” f “Ah! there is a thought: Yes, we must save him, no matter what comes after that. Loving him, you can be of greatest service to him in his time of need, and, together, we must establish his innocence somehow. I will help you all in my power, my child.” Myra returned her embrace, and doing so, could not see the look that came into her eyes or the hard smile that curled her lips for a moment. While they were thus clasped in each other’s arms, there came a knock at the door. Mrs. Kenton rose and opened the door, and admitted Gilbert Dougherty. \The lawyer came in, bowing and scrap- ing humbly. What had brought him? CHAPTER XVI. A LETTER AND A DOUBT. “Your pardon, ladies, your pardon for this intrusion,” said the lawyer, “I would never have come thus unannounced, had it not been important.” “No apology needed, sir,’ said Mrs. Kenton. ‘ Pray, take a seat, Mr. Dough- erty. We were only having a confidential chat, my dear Myra and I, and it had come to an end just as you knocked.” “Ah! then, perhaps my excuse is ac- ceptable. I will come at once to the busi- ness that has brought me here, and not trouble you long with my presence,” as he. sat down and placed his tall hat be- side him on the floor, and he opened his coat and took a letter from his pocket. Mrs. Kenton and Myra watched him with much interest. “Here is a letter,’ he said, “that has just come to me in rather a mysterious manner. I went into my office a few min- utes ago, after having been out for a little while, and this letter was lying on the floor.” “Indeed!” exclaimed Marie. “Yes, lying on the floor, and how it came there I do not know—probably never shal! ‘know, fer the Ccor was meets ‘yt % me ot : Bh * 3 at Pe he cui - ¥' . + Oa, Laie se LB : i : PN Saar as Th ae ——— “Yes, yes,” eagerly. ‘Naturally, I opened drawing out the letter, contained.” With a polite bend he handed the fold- ed sheet of paper to Mrs. Kenton, accom- panying his bow with a slight flourish of the hand that was inimitable, it, and The widow aceepted it, her face slightly ! pale as she did so, but on her opening it and glancing at the signature her pallor vanished, and for a moment a flush over- spread her face, “From Mr. Dursey,’’ she spoke in low tone, ‘From Kid-Glove Kris?” asked Myra. “ Yes, from him, dear.” “* Read. it.” The widow complied, reading as fol- lows: “Gilbert Dougherty: “ Dear Sir:—I desire to have it gener- ally known that it was not I that’was a prisoner in the jail last night. You will please exhibit this letter to Mayor Grimm and to any others you may think proper. Especially do me the favor to make it known to those who believe me innocent of the murder of Mr. Kenton— which I swear that I am, “ Yours truly, “ CHRISTOPHER DURSEY.” Mrs. Kenton looked at Myra the mo- ment she had done reading, then at the lawyer, folding the letter, which she handed back to him. Myra’s face was flushed, and there was a bright light in her eyes, The widow was somewhat pale, but was calm, “What do you think of it, Mr. Dough- erty?” she asked. ‘“ Do you think this is really from Kid-Glove Kris?” “Why, I have no reason to think oth- erwise, madam,’ was the reply. “I have seen his thandwriting many times, and this is certainly his hand. No, there can be no doubt.” “Then, is it possible that there is an- other man looking so nearly like him that the difference cannot be told? It is wonderful.” “Such must be the case, Mrs. Kenton.” “Who can the other be, then?” que- ried Myra, her eyes wide with wonder. “Who, indeed?” repeated Marie. ‘It does not seem as if it can be true. And yet, here is the proof of it,” “You know Nate Hawkins maintained from the first that the prisoner was not Kid-Glove Kris,’ reminded Mr. Dougher- ty. ‘“ But, hardly any one else would be- lieve it.” “Can you wonder?” said Mrs, Ken- ton, “Not a bit. I hadn*t a doubt of the man’s identity myself.” “Have you shown this to any one be- sides us?” “Not yet. You see, I took the last part of it as being the most important, and thought I would come right to you with it, knowing that you believe fully in his innocence.” “Well, I am glad you did. My dear Myra, too, believes him innocent of her father’s murder, and we hope at least to win for him a fair trial, should he be captured. Show the letter, Mr, Dougherty, show it widely, and win as many con- verts as you possibly can.” The lawyer had a habit, when think- ing hard or when a new idea struck him of rubbing his thumb and forefinger up and down the bridge of his nose. This he did now, with some vigor, look- ing at Mrs. Kenton. ; “What are you thinking about?” she asked. “Ah! your pardon,” he said, quickly, stopping immediately the outward mani- 'restation of his thinking process. “It wos 4st 2 random idea that popped: into ee i hid this,” | “was what it : ee epee ES ES SE ee “How are we to judge of that, Mr. Dougherty? ” “Would you like me to tell you what I was thinking? ”’ “ Assuredly, yes.” “Well, the idea came to my. mind, along with another of no moment, that perhaps Mr. Dursey is playing a ruse— that this denial is only a trick to create a doubt as to his identity.” “You think so?” “JT don’t say that I think so; that was the idea that struck me.” “Well, that is decidedly more reasona- ble than to think there can be two men so nearly alike that they cannot be told apart. And yet—” “And yet what, madam?” “Pardon me, it was only a thought.” “Do you think this is true?”’ inquired Myra. “Tg it not the more reasonable of the two?” “But, why would the decieve you?” “Why? Would he: not think that I would be the first to hang him if it were proven to my satisfaction that he did do the deed?,” Myra looked amazed for a moment, but something in the eyes of the other made her understand that it was only a cue she was to follow, and she quickly came to the support. “ Why, true enough, he could hope for no mercy from us.” “ Positively not. And yet, he assures us that he is innocent—we believe that he is, and there must be some terrible proof tat he is afraid will come to light and. tell against him.” “Tt may be so.” “ And thence this trick,” said the law- yer. “Yes, yes, now I begin 'to see it, Mr. Dougherty. If arrested again, the people would not dare to hang him, for fear of making a mistake.” “That, I say, may be his game; and yet, on the other hand, that is only my idea, and if this letter is true, then who can be the other man? That is the latest enigma for us to solve.” “True, indeed, who can he be?” “Tt must be as Mr. Dougherty has sug- gested,” said Myra. “‘he gentleman must be playing a role with a purpose.” “Yes, yes, truly that must be al agreed Mrs. Kenton, “ There is no other way to explain it. And yel, what are we to think about Mr. Hawkins’s stand in the matter?” “And what about this letter, ladies?” asked the lawyer. “What abeut it?” asked Marie. “Would he desire those who believe him innocent to be kept in the dark? Taking the letter Just as it reads, there is hardly room to doubt what the writer says. Do you know, the more I think of it the more I believe there must be another Kid-Glove Kris.” “Tt is confusing to think of such a pos- sibility,” mused Mrs. Kenton. “No, it must be as you have said, sir.” So Myra insisted. “Well, it is not easy to determine,” said Mr. Dougherty, taking up his hat and rising. “ There is but one thing for me to do, take the letter at its word, so to say, and do as requested.” “Yes, you must do that,” agreed Mrs. Kenton. “If the man is innocent, as he so strongiy asserts and as we already believe, he must be at work trying to es- tablish his innocence, and this is one move in his plan, whether the other part of his letter is strictly true or not,” | “Yes, yes, I think so, I think so,” mov- ing toward the door with backward strides, and a bow at each stride. “ Your pardon for my overstaying a proper time, ladies. I humbly apologize for having in- flicted you for so long with my poor pres- ence.” And thus he bowed himself out of the room, while they responded to his words, and closed the door. And then he descended the stairs, rubbing his nose with thumb and forefinger. ” ¢ a ag S's

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CHAPTER XVII. ANOTHER LETTER AND FURTHER DOUBTS. No sooner had the door closed, than the two women looked at each other. It was a keen, searching look on the part of each, as if each would read the innermost thoughts of the other. “What can it mean?” queried Myra. “Tt means that there is more mystery than ever, dear,’ was the reply. “Then you think—” “The letter is true, in every particu- lar. There is another man here who looks very like Mr. Dursey.” “Then Mr. Dougherty—” “Tt was well enough to leave his mind confused in the matter. We did not want to enlighten him respecting our private thoughts, you know. The great question is—”’ “What?” “What are we to do in the matter?” “Why, what can we do? We have not been taken into his confidence, and can do nothing.” “But we have been assured of his in- mocence, and that, as much as anything, was the purpose of his letter. He knew whom it would reach—that is, all who have faith in him.” “If.so, the more reasonable that the first part was to deceive, don’t you think so? But, you have assured me otherwise. Talk about Mr. Dougherty’s mind being confused; it is enough to confuse any- body. If there really are two, how are we to know the one from the other?” “There can be but one, rest assured of that. Such remarkable resemblances are found only in story .books, my dear.” “Well, I am willing to.be convinced, a but how about Mr. Hawkins?” aig “Oh! he is contrary, anyhow. If you were to say the sun was red, he would be sure to say it was green.” ; “Tf that is the case, then his evidence ae. is hard.y to be taken into account at all, a I should say. But, even looking at it a fed as we do, what can be the hidden pur- 1... pose of it all?” This carried them back again to the starting point, and they covered the ground again and again during their . eonversation, being no nearer a solution when they ended than they had been at mana the beginning. There was one great ques- - tion—if Kid-Glove Kris had a double, pr eS > _ Who was it? CR oe - But, we must follow Lawyer Dough- ee Be ny When he left the hotel he went straight | to the office of the mayor. | Ree €s and Hawkins had just come eat from e jail, and had entered only a few we: before. ‘ The mayor was pacing the floor, his Eee ee and troubled, while Nate Haw- tting on a chair with his heels looking “as happy as a Py on the « * clam. . Grimes looked u - erty entanenere Dp suddenly as Dough ¢ Here, Dougherty, maybe you can set- at Bags ae orn g a letter at the awye you ever s h onnay” ee that writing | Sh “Don’t think I ever did, sir,” said th ne agit om at first glance, | a. ; “Took at it closer. ‘Read it, in fact.” ‘The lawyer read as follows: re Mayor Grimes:— “T would like to impress. upon your mind, if I can, the fact that the man you your jail was not the sport called “Hot he. Since my word will not be neck ig in danger at your hands, I e of my ae I will sti sign | wy, he is B piven? ; ove Kris, I am that prisoner, but. 1 in the matter, however, and since mused er, when eat read to the end. | you se strang e about it?” “The deuce vou don’t!” Pe. AO TEGs “Isn’t it Kid-Glove Kris’s? ” “No, I should say not, decidedly. Not at all like it.” “What did I tell ye?” spoke up the ex-mayor, more smiling than ever, if possible. ‘Wait,’ waived the mayor. “Not at all like it, you say, Dougherty. Very good; that is just the point I am coming at. Isn’t this Dursey’s writing in dais- guise?” “T would say not, mayor.” “What the deuce makes you think it ain't?” “Why, sir, because there scrawl in it at all like his.” “ Ah! now I have you. Are you listen- ing, Nate? What would ‘the sport do if he wanted to disguise his hand?” “Why, try it, of course, 1 suppose.” “ Just so, and ‘he is no fool, this same Kid-Glove Kris. He has done it so well that not one of us recognizes his fist. But, he has overdone it, and that is just what gives it away!” “Stubborn as ever, ye see, Dougherty,” said Hawkins. ‘‘ Bound ter have his own way about et.” “Well, Mr. Grimes, look at this,” said the lawyer. He handed the mayor the letter he had found in his office, and which he had just shown to the ladies. The mayor’s face clouded again as he took it, and a glance at the writing and at the signature caused him to voice an oath. There was no mistaking this writ- ing e ‘Where did you get it?” he thundered, when he had read it. ‘“On the floor of my office, sir.” “ What is et?’ demanded Hawkins, in- terested immediately. “A Jetter from Kid-Glove Kris to Dougherty here,” answered the mayor. And he read it. “Thar, now ye are talkin’,” cried Nate. “That has the genuine ring about it, that one does. That is Kris, sure enough, et is.” “And you claim that this other isn’t ihis.”’ “That's what I do.” “ Well, you are a fool, ne that’s all, Here vis all the proof in the world of it, now.” “What is et?” “ Are you so blind that you won’t see?” “Mayor, I’d git mad if et was’ wuth while, but et ain’t. I ain’t so stubborn that I won’t see, that’s sartain. But, go is not a “Yes, I am stubborn when I am gure that I am right, you are right I am, But, for the proof: Here are two letters writ- ten the same day, and left in the same manner. What more proof do you want? ” Hawkins looked serious. “Thar is a p’int, sure enough,” he had to admit, “ But, I must stick to my first idea, for I seldom go wrong when I cling to first impressions. | way to settle the whole business, and and make ’em explain.” “Both at once— Confound it! ther is only one!” — : | “Thar’s two.” am forced to change my mind now.” “Ha! then you agree with me?” asked Grimes. * All the evidence is on your side, sir.’ “ And some of the hoss sense on inine,” said Hawkins. ee here,” the lawyer called attention, ain under cover until the iS tee ing the two letters up side by side. as been cleared. As you have | i “Do you notice anything striking?” Ther Rear gee gr said Nate, “Yes, but something more.” mee bs “What i is it?” demanded 4 may yor pape re Don’t you see the l [tere been 7 shy marmmighe by tn ; proves it.” ‘ ate eH tho 2 that is ter git holt of both fellers at once eee ‘two halves of ran Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. Thar is only one} “So I thought,” put in the aan for | the sake of peace in the family, “but I) | Et don’t matter—” _tiously. | matter, fer I can take et phe lase9 wa ‘ \72°Xs, guess we will know ye next time you come this way— By great, I think we will, anyhow!” CHAPTER XVIII. NEW-COMERS APPEAR, At that moment the doorway dark-' ened, All three looked up, there to find two strangers—men they had never seen be- fore. The subject of conversation was dropped, and as a matter of fact Nate Hawkins was less smilit@ than when it had begun. He had been led to see that nearly all the evidence in the case was against his pet theory, yet he was firmly convinced in his own mind that he was right. But the two strangers. They were roughly clad, stalwart fel- lows of about the same size and build. Both were bearded, and there was something of a sameness about their looks that struck the observer at once. Their clothes were different, and their beards were not alike. “Can you tell us whar we wull find Thomas Kenton?” one asked. “Tom Kenton, the mine-owner?” * That’s him.” “Well, we don’t happen to have his latest address,” gaid the mayor face- “You must be strangers here,” “Yes, so we are.’ oF Where do you hail from?” “New Mex. We used ter work fer Tom Kenton in his Bud o’ Beauty Mine, down thar.” “JT gee. Well, I am sorry to inform you that Tom Kenton is dead.” “Tom Kenton dead!” So they both exclaimed, and they looked at each other with the greatest surprise and consternation. “You can’t mean it,” said the spokes- man for the pair. “ But that ain’t sayin’ et ain’t so; et takes us sorter off our feet, as et wur, comin’ so suddent. When did he die?” “ About a morth ago, a little more or less.” a “ What was ther matter?” : “He was murdered.” ia “Murdered!” Their faces, travel-grimed as they were, showed their hearts’ dismay at the information. “Yes,” said the mayor, calmly. The other two men were simply look- i ing on and listening. n. “ And has ther cuss. been. hanged what done et?” now spoke up the other of the - | pair. _ No, he hasn't. been caught yet,” said the mayor. “Or, rather,” he made haste to correct, “he has been in our hands a@ = couple of times but has got away both times.” Hawkins said nothing. | “Ha! then ye know him, do ye? What's i his name? I reckon he will fare hard et _ me and my pard gits holt of him; hey, al Joe?” ee: “Well, you kin bet your life on et” a agreed the other, grimly. * ee “He is known as Kid-Glove Kris, a sport,” the mayor explained. “He es- caped jail- here only last night, and he is somewhere around in hiding, we are quite — sure pt that. But, who are you? Kd s? ” ‘ “3 Certainly; think I am talking seus somebody else?” m “Didn't know whether ye meant m singly and only, or my pard Crowes: “JT mean both of you.” ie “Jist what I was goin’ to say, it ¢ don’ tell ye in a lump. bb Naertigeed ibson—I’m Ber and he is heard Mr. Kenton speak Ra not ikely, tha ‘nO: Ly, . think that

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ee SGT Oar Ta TE TS _Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. you just come to town, that you had not. heard a word about it?” “ Jist tramped in, sir.” “Well, you won’t be long finding out all that is kuown here in Hard Pan. Nothing else is being talked of to-day. You say you worked for Kenton? ” “ee Yes “ And that is what has brought you up } here, I take it. Is that the case, my -man? 2» “You hit et right on the head, sir. We writ to him, much as three months ago, and he told us to come on and he’d set us to doin’ somethin’.” “Well, it is rough on you, but you have got the facts.” The mayor turned away. “Much ’bliged to ye,” said the spokes- man, as he and his brother moved to- ward the door. But he stopped. “By ther way, sir,” turning back again. “Well, what is it?” as thar a family livin’ here named Blow?” “You mean Billy Blow? That is to Say, Susan Brown-Blow—for she wears the breeches.” “That's the name. A feller I knowed, that used ter work here, name of Simon Grudge, he boarded thar himself and put pe auto the place. Where does the family live? ” “You knew Simon Grudge, eh?” “Wull, ruther.” * And where is he? He was a hard nut to crack.” “Pore feller, he is dead. But, that house? Ef you will jist put us on trail fer et, we won’t bother ye any longer.” ss Yes, T'll do that, certainly,” and the mayor gave the location of the Blow domicile, the two strangers paying at- tention while he was telling them how to find it. “Much ’bliged to ye,” said the one who had done the talking, and they made another start, this time effectually. “A couple of disappointed chaps,” the mayor observed. “Very truly,” agreed Dougherty. « And I think I’ll scrape their acquaint- ance a bit,’ said Nate Hawkins, getting up from his chair. “I used to pard with Simon Grudge quite a little, and I’d like ter know somethin’ more about his take- off.” “All right, Nate, we’ll excuse you,” said the mayor, laughing. “ But, are you ready to cave and acknowledge being downed?” “On what?” “That there is but one man, and that one is Kid-Glove Kris.” “Well, you have got me on the hip, mayor. Don’t see how I kin help myself, as it stands at present.” “T thought you would be convinced of |. the error of your way, finally. All in good part, you know; I’ll want to talk with you again, later on. There are some ihings I don’t understand yet.” “ All right, I’m willin’, Pete.” “One thing, how Kid-Glove Kris got out of Devil’s Inkhorn?” “T give et up, mayor. We’ll talk et pts later on. We won't agree on et, any- how.” “No, not at all likely that we will. No matter, go on after those fellows, or they will be out of your reach.” - With a light laugh and a wave of the hand, feeling good over having gained a point over the ex-mayor, Grimes bade adieu to Hawkins and turned to talk -. further with Dougherty. Hawkins hastened out, and caught sight of the two fellows, some distance down the street, He hurried after them, and when they were about half-way to their destination, came up with them, when he forced his way in between them, say- ing in low. tone: “Don’t git crazy, now, when I ask ye, but which one of you ei is Kia- ; dais Kris?” CHAPTER XIX. HAWKIN . Both the ‘men hag already fumed thelr ed es Besta pa Fe and Bich I bo ial pranan faces: or ees | sponse to the question. | darn whirl of mystery. I am the only And their looks had been by no means friendly at the first blush, as they turned their eyes upon him. The flash ‘in one pair of eyes imme- diately softened, however, and the other man gave a slight start on hearing the question that was so abruptly asked of them. The worcs, as said, had been spoken in low tone, and no one save the two men addressed could hear. “Are you crazy, sir?” demanded the one who had denominated himself Ben. “No, I guess not,’”” was the laconic re- sponse. “And you don’t appear to be a fool. What do you mean by such a question as you have asked, my friend?” “Why, I meant jist what my words meant, on course. But, ye needn’t an- swer et now, onless ye want to. This hyar closter squint in a stronger light is all I needed.” “Then you have given it away, Nate?” “Not any, pard.” “What did you say to Pete, when you set out to follow us?” “Why, that I wanted to see you fellers to inquire furder about Simon Grudge. He was my pard, you know.” “Yes, I know. That was well done. But is my disguise so poor that it was so easily penetrated? If so, we might as well give it up before we begin,” speak- ing to his companion. “T think so,” said he. “Don’t git crazy, same as I said be- fore,” admonished Hawkins. ‘“ Your make-up is all right, old pard. Not one in a thousand would see through it. Ef you could fool Pete Grimes, then you kin fool the old feller himself, by mighty ye kin!” “Then how did you see through it?” “Ther same as I seen that this other gent wasn’t you, when he was brought in last night. You ‘hadn’t a closter pard hyer at Hard Pan, ’n what I was, Kid- Glove Kris.” “ Well, that’s so, I guess.” “An’ I knowed them ’ar eyes of your’n This other gent’s is like ’em, but thar is a fine difference after all that couldn’t fool me.” “Then you think we are safe in the role we have assumed, do you?” “Will ye let me back ye up?” “That is what I want you to do, now that you are on to our game.” “Then you are safe, sure enough, fer ef I take ye fer strangers, nobody else will be likely to question et.” “You are right. The fact of the busi- ness is, we intended taking you in with us as soon as we had got established here, and all secure in our characters.” “Ye don’t say!” it Yes,” ¢ “Ye do me proud, honest ye do.” “That is all right, Nate; I know the kind of man you are.” “And who is yer pard?” “You can call him Hard-Hitter Hugh— not his real name, but that does not mat- ter.” “Don’t matter.a mite to me, though I take et ‘he must be a twin brother o’ your’n. No matter about that; he is a hard-hitter, sure enough. Glory! ye had orter seen the way he pasted Pete.” “He told me about it.” “Et was good, I tell ye. I’d ’a’ had ter laff, ef Pete had shot me dead on ther spot fer et.” They all laughed. Having now passed out of the main street and away from the crowd, they stopped to continue their talk. “Well, Nate, what is the lay of the land here?” asked Kid-Glove Kris, or otherwise “ Ben Gibson,” as he had made himself known. “You know the inside of it all, of course.” “Thar ain’t no lay to et,” was the re- feller hyer that knows anything of a “Et is all one | hurt your eye ef et was in et in the shape of a bowlder.”’ “What do you know, however? ” “Simply what I have got on to re- spectin’ you and this gent.” ce That is all, eh?” “Yes & The two letters ‘have been found, I take it.” “Yes, and Pete is sure, now, that there ain’t but one of ye, and that you are the one.” “Then he thinks—’ “That it is some game you are up to. Ef he gits holt of either one of ye the won’t let go, you bet.” “That is the way it looks, true enough. But, we must take care that he does not get hold of either of us, if possible to prevent. And if he should—” “What?” asked Detective Dave. “We must rely upon our friend here to help us.” “And I'll do it, Nate heartily declared. on Nate Hawkins.” “We shall have to take care not to be overheard,” reminded Kid-Glove Kris. “Tf any one comes this way, let us be talking about Simon Grudge, for a blind.” “Sartain,” said Nate. ‘But, pard, about that murder—what do you know about et?” “Not a thing,” declared the sport . “T know you are innocent, but thar is the mystery of your goin’ away that night, and all that,” “You have full then?” “ Ther fullest kind.” “That is enough. I will tell you the story as soon as we ‘have a little more time. We have got to see Susan Brown- Blow, now, and arrange for board in her shebang.” “What do you want to go thar for?” “ Because, we want a place where we can come and go at will, and that ground- floor room of hers will just suit. It is the only place in the camp that I could fix on for our purpose, and maybe we can make use of the woman and Billy to some end,” “You mought. Billy, san—” A shake of the head. “Well, there is where we are going, anyhow, just for the sake of that inde- pendent room of hers, and you must run in after we get established, and we will have a chat and arrange plans. As I tell you, it was my intention to see you and let you into our game, for we will want a friend at court, as it were, if anything miscarries.” “But what do you intend to do?” “First, solve the mystery of that mur- der—” . '“You mean Kenton’s?” “Yes. And then that other.” “The detective’s? ” “oe Yes.” “ All right, that is a game that I want to be in, so you can count on me fer all I weigh. But, thar is one mystery. that I want cleared up right now, if you will answer a question.” : “What is it?” : “How did this man git out of jail?” They both smiled, and Detective Dave made the response. ; “Why, your friend here came to my rescue,” he explained. ‘“ He let me out.” “T thought so, and now hyer’s the pint: Whar was Gil Johnson when you was doin’ that, Kid- Glove Kris? Was he | in et, or not?” : # He was not in it. But, I don’t want to get Gil into trouble.” “Yer won't.” “Well, he was lured away by a wo- man—I was not quite near enough to see who it was, but I guessed. That does not matter. show you that we trust you fully.” | ct Some men coming that way just then, ; a few remarks were made for their espe- to the last notch,” “You kin rely confidence in me, but as fer Su- cial benéfit, concerning Simon Gru and fae peg of the ards as I tell you this simply to. Fe

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eat “Fat with a yaller Chinee!” cried Bil: | a yalle — = — = if they were indeed strangers to him, | and they went on their way to see Mrs. | Blow. How they made out we have heard from that emancipated lady herself. CHAPTER XxX. ANOTHER COMEDY CHAPTER. Kris and Dave kept close to their room all the afternoon. About six o’clock Mrs. Brown-Blow came to announce that the evening meal was ready. “Supper is ready,” she said briefly. “And which one of you will take poor Simon Grudge’s place at the board, see- ' in’ that he was a friend of you both? I will fix the other matter.” “Let it come just as it happens,” said Kid-Glove Kris. “ But, what other mat- ter do you refer to, Mrs. Brown-Blow?” “ Why, a place for the other one of ye, | of course.” “©On! I see.” ; “You see, by takin’ you two I have rather overloaded my house and table, | as it were.” / “Yes, yes, I see.” “ There was only one vacant place, and | that was Grudge’s, but I can fix the other. Bill Blow has got to wait, that is all there is about it, and he can make up | his mind to it.” “That is too bad; maybe room can be made—” “Not a bit of room, Mr. Gibson, not a bit of room. I won’t have them that pays | crowded by them that don’t.” She led the way to the dining-room while they were thus speaking, and it so happened that Ben Gibson sat in the place that had always been held by the erstwhile master of the house, while Joe took that made vacant by the departure of Simon Grudge. : The meal was well under way when home came Billy Blow. Mrs. Brown-Blow sat at the head of the table. She looked up as Billy came in, and motioned for him to go out. “what’s all right, Mrs. Brown-Blow, all right,” said Billy, making for his ac- customed place at the board. “Don’t mind me, my dear, don’t mind me at all. I kin wait on m’self.” He had just enough of the so-called *“‘tangle-foot”’ aboard to make him lim- ber at the knees, but he could walk tol- erably straight. By the time he had ended what ‘the was saying, he reached his seat. There he stopped short, | “Hillo!” he exclaimed, finding his | place pre-empted. “Reckon you ‘have Zot into the wrong pew by mistake, pard. Jist move along, will ye, and let me have my reg’lar place at this hyer feed trough. That’s all right, m’dear; no need to git up on my account.” “You Bill Blow!” She stood up and glared at her life- partner. ' “That’s me,” said Billy, stepping back a pace and looking at her in a blank way. : “Yes, I know it’s you, you good-for- nothing! This gentleman is my new boarder, or one of them, and that is his Place. Do you understand? That is his place, and you aresto wait.” ; “lm!” Mr, Blow exclaimed reflect- ively, stepping back and rubbing his chin. “I had fergotten yer new boarders, m’dear. Had clean fergotten ’em, on gne word. Had fergotten that I have to sleep in the out-shed, now, as you said. What am _I comin’ to, anyhow?” Kris and Dave were amused, and all the rest interested. _ “That will do, that will do,” said Mrs. Brown-Blow, trying to wave him to si- lence. “If you are in a hurry, go out in the kitchen and ask Chop to fix you a place there, and eat your supper with illy, with more of spirit than he had | you was a new woman.” never climb shown in a year. “Eat in the kitchen with a yaller Chinee? Wull, I ruther guess not, Mrs. Brown-Blow, not if I know whar I’m at, and I think I do. What do you take me fur, anyhow?” “There, there, William, do not excite yourself; this is no place for a scene; | remember that you are in the presence of a lady, at least.’’ “A lady! Whur is she?” “Here, I, your wife. Would you in—” | “TI beg yer pardon,” with a sweeping bow, throwing out both arms in a comi- cal manner as he made it. “I thought “So I am, thank heaven!” He had touched her on her tender spot. “So I am, but none the less a lady, I should hope. Pardon me, gentlemen,” to her new boarders, “but you can see I am forced to defend my position.” “ Quite right, madam,” said Kid-Glove Kris. “Perfectly right, m’dear,” Billy re- peated. ‘“‘ You are one of the newest crit- ters in this hyer gulch, I think anybody will allow that. You have got altogether too bran’ new fer me, I have ter admit.” “Yes, gentlemen,” taking advantage of the opportunity given to air her hobby, “T am a woman, freed from centuries of bondage, a woman emancipated. We claim that we are man’s equal, and we refuse longer to occupy a position second to him. Nevertheless, we are wo- men still.” “YT deny that last,” piped up Billy, who had backed away toward the door. “You deny that I am a woman! Why, you wretch, what would you call me, if not a woman? I am a woman, and proud of being such, under the new conditions. What do you mean?” “Didn’t say so, m’dear, didn’t say so,” said Billy, “You didn’t say so?” “No, didn’t say you wasn’t a woman; didn’t say nothin’ of the kind at all.” “What did you say, then, I would like to know? I leave it to these gentlemen if you didn’t say that you denied my being a woman. Oh! you rum-addled wretch, you don’t know what you do say!” “Yes do, m’dear, yes do; but I didn’t say that.” “Then what did you say?” “You said you was a woman still, and I said you wasn’t; that was all, that was all, m’dear.” “And what would you call that, I want to know? You are making a fool of yourself—for which you are not to be held accountable, since you can’t help it. What would you call that?” “You aire about the noisiest still wo- man that I ever—” “You! Bill! Blow!” She started as if to make a dash at him, but he waved her back. “Don’t git excited, m’dear, don’t git excited,” he said. “Keep calm, and you will live all the longer and die all the harder. Don’t fergit that you are a new woman.” , “WPorget it, no!” “ And I reckon that I must be a speci- men of ther new man, hey?” “You are a brute, that is what you are! Gentlemen, can you imagine a wo- | “man like me marrying a thing like him? ” Some one had to respond. “T presume he was altogether a differ-' ent lookin’ fellow, when you married him,” said Detective Dave, almost for- getting his assumed character til! he got a nudge from the sport. “Years bring changes, ye know.” _ “That is the point,” said Mrs. Brown- Blow. “He was a different lookin’ feller, entirely. But, of late, as I have risen, he has degenerated, till now there is a gapin’ chazum between us that nothin’ kin bridge across no more forever. I can never descend to his level, and he can} to the plane on which I} stand to-day.” earnest consultation or discussion, go au gen Senet E Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport, She was rehashing something she had read. “That's so, that’s so,” Billy acquiesced, shaking his head. “Not only am I to sleep in the out-shed, but she would have me eat with a Chinee— By glory, Mrs. Brown-Blow, I draw the line at that last! You kin put me in the shed if you want to; you kin take ther head of ther table; you kin parade in breeches to yer heart’s delight; but when you come to puttin’ me down on a level of a blame Chinee cook, thar I draw the line! You are ridin’ a high hoss, Mrs. Brown-Blow, but look out et don’t buck, that’s all. And be keerful not to tread on me any furder’n what you have done, or thar may be a new man around these hyer diggin’s one of these days.” And having so delivered ‘himself, Billy left the room, and the meal progressed to its finish. CHAPTER XXI. WHAT THE PARDS HEAR, About .the time the electric lights flashed forth for the night, and the camp took a new breath, as it were, and wak- ened up to the sport of the evening, the two pards strode forth to view the town. It was all new to Detective Dave, save alone the jail—to which he had been in- troduced, and hence it was not necessary for him to play the role of stranger, as was the case with Kid-Glove Kris. It was an easy part, however, and one in which the sport had appeared before, Naturally, they sauntered into the Metropolitan. + This was the great focal point of the young city of an evening, and every new- comer had to pay it one visit at least. The sinner went there to find enjoy- ment suited to his taste, and the saint had to see it with his own eyes in order to picture it in all its iniquity and draw a moral therefrom. The great room was beginning to be well filled when the detective pards en- tered. : They walked around, might. With each other’s help, and the ad- vantage of a room, they had been ena- bled to improve upon their disguises un- til it would have puzzled even Nate Haw- kins, had he not previously made the discovery, to guess their identity. Very little attention was paid to them, save a casual glance now and then from some one, for strangers were numerous at Hard Pan, were coming and going con- stantly, and there was nothing about these two to claim more than passing no- tice from anybody. Their appearance was very ordinary and every-day-like. Finally, they took seats at a table. They were discussing the situation as it then stood, talking in low tones, when Mayor Grimes entered the place. He took a table near where the two detective pards sat, and was soon joined there by Ed Sawyer, acting manager of the Wingate Mine, and by Bob Bowman and Gilbert Dougherty. The mayor and the acting manager had entered into conversation imme- diately. “Well, did you look into what I sug- gested?” asked Sawyer. “Yes, and there was nothing in it.” “Then she wasn’t out?” “Not at all,” “And what has Gil to say about it?”” “He saw no woman, so he declares. You must have seen some one else.” “Well, maybe I did, but I could have taken oath to the person. If she wasn’t out, though, of course that settles it.” “Well, she wasn’t.” as strangers And then they were joined by Bowman — -and Dougherty, as said, and that matter _ was dropped. The detective pards were leaning over their table toward ¢ach other, as a if ~ te Ke ee ‘is

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18 Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. eS ———— were really listening and taking in all that was said. The mayor and his party did not speak in low tones, but out Joud in a natural manner, since the subject was not a pri- vate one. It was the one topic of talk, almost, all over the place, and was being viewed from almost every possible stand- point. ‘“Well, Bob, what word?” asked the mayor, as they took seats. “No word at all,” was the reply. “You are still puzzled?” “ Completely.” “You have talked with Johnson?” “Yes, and can make nothing out of him. He sticks to his first story like grim death.” “And you are inclined to think it is true? ” “J would be, if it wasn’t impossible.” “What is your private opinion, then?” “Just what I told you, that he was away from his post. He had no key, and he would not have dared to be found asleep.” ‘Have you heard that there may have been a woman in the case?” * No. Who?” “Don’t know, but it has been suggested that maybe that was what took him away from his post, and he makes a poor show at denying it.” “He didn’t mention that to me.” “Not likely that he would, Do you know whether he is friendly with any woman of the camp to that extent or not? If we can get hold of her, maybe we can get at the truth.” “Don’t know of one, mayor. But even so, what would that do toward solving the mystery of how the prisoner got out? ” “Tt would let us know when he got out, at least.” “And what good would that do?” “Well, now you are leading off into the blind trails again. We have got to make a beginning somewhere, you know.” “Well, if it won’t offend you, mayor, there is one thing that I would like to suggest to you. It is what I ‘have been thinking about ever since it happened.” * Well, what is that? Out with it.” “Tt seems to me we are taking hold of the pin by the wrong handle, so to say. What does it matter how he got out, so long as ‘he is out?” “We want to find who helped him out.” “That is all right, but don’t you think the quickest way to find out that will be to find the prisoner and put him back again, and make him tell? He is in town, accordin’ to what Dougherty there has . been telling me,” “Tle may be, and he may not.. He has had ample time to go away again, or, for the matter of that, some one else may have left the letters where they were found. [I teli you, Bob, it is one of the greatest riddles that I ever tackled in my life. If you think you can find Kid- Glove Kris, go ahead and find him and pocket the reward.” The deputy shrugged his shoulders at that. “And, by the way, Bob,” said the mayor, “there is one feature of this matter that has been overlooked, I think.” * What is that?” »“You had a key to that jail.” “Certainly; I always have, being the jailer.” “And you and Kid-Glove Kris were not by any-means bad friends.” “Confound you! you wouldn’t hint that I let him out, would ye?” | “Well, the thought never came to me till this minute. Somebody certainly did help him.” “By heavens, Pete Grimes, if you were not an older man than I am. TI would knock you down for that! You might just as well accuse the sheriff himself of $772: “ There, gentlemen, there, there,’ put in the lawyer, as peacemaker. “ Noth- ing is to be gained by your falling out. Might as well say that the mayor did it, as the sheriff, with no proof against any- body. I would say let the whole matter drop.” “Yes, but I want it understood that I had no hand in it,” growled the deputy. “Well, well, I take your word, of course,” Said the mayor. “That’s all right, then.” “But you, Dougherty, what have you been able to learn? Has anything turned up regarding Kid-Glove Kris?” “T have looked all the afternoon, may- or, and have not been able to sight any- body that looks at all like him. My opinion is that he is not in town, if he was here.” “That is what they all report.” * But I[ had a talk with Billy Blow re- garding the two new boarders his wife has taken in, and he hasn’t much love for them, somehow.” “But we have seen them ourselves. You don’t suspect that they are in any way concerned in this mystery, do you? What does Billy have to say about them that leads you to this mention?” “Why, it is his opinion that they are not what they seem. He is inclined to think that they are somehow concerned in the new woman movement, in which his wife has enlisted, and I wouldn’t wonder if he kicked up a row. But, no matter about that; what I was going to Say— Ah! why, here are the very gentle- men.” He had just espied Dave and Kris at the neighboring table. CHAPTER XXII. MAYOR GRIMES SUMMONED. The pard detectives looked around, pre- tending to break off in their conversa- tion, and Detective Dave asked: “Did any one mention us?” Dougherty had raised his voice, on recognizing them. “We were just speaking about you, boys,” said the mayor. “At any rate Mr. Dougherty here was about taking your names in vain.” “That so? Well, we are ‘here to an- swer for ourselves,” said Kid-Glove Kris, as he and Detective Dave swung their. chairs around facing the other table. ‘ What’s on ther carpet?” “Didn’t you hear what we were talk- ing about?” “Heard somebody say, ‘ Ah! why, here are the very gentlemen,’ and naturally we looked up. Your friend thar was lookin’ straight at us.” Mr. Dougherty was looking a little confused, as if he had gotten himself into a fix he did not know how to get out of. He was looking hard at the pards, as if to read them through. “Yes, it seems that you have created a little jealousy, or something akin to it, on the part of the husband of your landlady,” said Grimes, by way of ex- planation. ‘What ‘have you been do- ing to make him think that you are a pair of woman’s rights advocates?” The pards laughed. From what they had heard, they knew that Dougherty had been just on the point of saying something more when he espied them. And now the mayor was trying to turn that aside and lead their thoughts into another channel. They were willing to be led, but that did not alter the fact of the matter in the least. “Thar is nothin’ in et,’ declared Kid- Glove Kris, playing the assumed part with great care. ‘“ His wife seems ter be chief of the wigwam, and she ousted him out of his place at the table, that’s about all thar was of it. But, I don’t blame him fer gittin’ riled.” “Why, no, if that is the case.” “Not only that,” spoke up Detective Dave, “but he has got to sleep in the | ont shed.” r os F ex-mayoO “Worse and worse. Don’t won’ the is kicking over the traces. for interrupting you, boys. i your private chat— rather a y. so “What is et?” asked Kris. happe?» “This is Mr. Sawyer, who is 4: g Ce as manager of the mines since Mr. waiter We ton’s death.” 'y He introduced the brothers, Joe Gibson, telling who they what had brought them to Hard ¢oU whereupon Sawyer said. that it win be impossible to give them wor). 2Y every place was full. y This suited the two detectives, a was not their desire to accept work i or and how. And, after some further tal, area opolit no moment to the progress of our §? | nat d they left their table, sauntered arc/el, a room for a few minutes, and Rot a thing, “Well, what do you think?” ‘Dave. as got onto me ‘hen you th “We have got to look out for st, and Dougherty,” answered Kris. nd ean e “But, you thought you could tr vane?” him, didn’t you?” 4 sure 0! “ And now know that I can’t.” dea me abo’ “What do you suppose he was gore | was to say?” ihe in “You remember what they were tal W eee ing about, of course.” adel “ Certainly.” <in Ri ‘ne “Well, my opinion is that he W Kea that 2 going to say that he thought one of A was Kid-Glove Kris.” Bxactly. ‘ “My own thought exactly, and W poe th have got to take that idea out of hiet, 82 oy head, the sooner the better. How are wHe going to do it?” x “That remaing to be seen.” ‘Well, ag They sauntered down the street, whib*! talking. The street was the scene of the pre ‘ a vious night repeated, and they seemed‘ But. pave to observers, to be enjoying it to tht Bat es full. , Stat Meanwhile, as soon as they had lef ©P ay their places at the table, Grimes de ™ F ope manded of Dougherty what he had hac on the tip of his tongue at the time whenr_ With he made the discovery that the memlers an were there. e int “ r Ag ide . Why, I was going to say,” said,<' We ag Dougherty, ‘“‘ that here are two strangers a of Kid-Glove Kris’s build, and if he hasghere ace a double at all, may it not be that these¢ the ‘ men are he and his double? I don’t sayr att it is so, of course; it is merely a thought] eos that came to me.” fier “Ha, ha! Why, no, it is impossible, 1a-Glo" We know who these fellows are; we® - ij, ) have their history, almost. Besides, Kid- : hist Glove Kris had no double, save when ide-c he doubled himself, so that puts an end here to the whole matter.” ’ * ‘oing ¢ They were still talking when Nate* *. are Hawkins came in. ‘all bO He looked around for a momeni, and ¢ nd 3] espying them, marched straight over to ci their table. @ giaD “Seen anything of them Gibson boys?’”’ he asked. “Why, yes, they were here a spell . ago,” answered Grimes. “Wanted to fall in with ’em, fer a further chat about Simon Grudge.” Sia “Don’t know where they went to; ins are around seeing the sights, I have no doo! doubt.” may “Wull, et ain’t important. T1] fall H in with ’em again. They aire a pair of he right good fellers, my opine.” out “Say, Nate.” str ® wull?” po! “Do you think they are just what ’ they pretend to be?” se “Jist what they p’tend to be? Don’t hi reckon I jist git on to what you mean, hi Pete.” tt “ Well, that is what I mean, just what ¥ I say. Do you think they are just what a they pretend to be, two brothers from New Mexico?” ed “Why, yes, to be sure I do; and who | says they ain’t?” The point was explained toe him. “You aire wrong, lawyer, dead

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Kris, t he Sport. Be Go ! phe matter, Nate,” remarked the I i, for a wonder, you and I agree rather surprised. “It does not ye 5 happen, so just call that waiter inet WhO ig say.” i, lawyer, you aire off the track,” Benvent on to say. ‘‘I have had quite ean €y were with these hyer boys already, and Lid to Hard couldn’t fool me if anything of . that it ykind was the case, you bet. Oh, © them wor) ey are straight; don’t go to losin’ xp over et.” detectives ¥* chatted on, and in the course of @ccept work'4n hour their party broke up. + further tal.’ mayor and ex-mayor crossed over ress of our gs‘ Cosmopolitan. auntered gy/ell, what did you learn?” asked Nutes, and yes. lot a thing,’ answered Hawkins. think?” asgot onto me, and shied off and fell brothers Tho they’ kK out for ‘hen you think there 1s something Ts, hd it, and that he was up to some- oU could tre when we saw him waiting out 3 alone?” can’t,” Dead sure of it.” h€ was goell me about it.” Well, I was workin’ around that way, ley Were ta} was gettin’ out whar I could take il in, when a durn little kioodle kem cin’ et my heals, and I had to turn that he w)kick the daylights out of that—” ht one of :And‘that gave it away.” Exactly. Gil looked up quick and HY, and w who et was, and he off and up the OUt of het, and that settled it.” How are yHe recognized you?” Yes.” ‘Well, that will make it next to im- treet, whissible for you to do anything more in it direction, then,” of the pre‘ Nigh about, I opine.” ®Y seemed‘ But, you saw no woman?” it to thy‘ No, nary woman was in et.” * But, it was too soon. Well, we will ’ had Jef ep still and watch on the sly, and we times dell get to the bottom of it yet.” ‘had hac“ I hope so. But, what was the mat- ime whenr with Dougherty, thinkin’ them two the memllers from New Mex. was not what ; sey claim ter be? That was a fool LY,” said.ee, sartain.” trangers “ We agree on that, fora wonder. Yet, he has;here can Kris be hiding himself? That at theseg the question.” on’t say,“ And the other one, mayor.” thought; “Bah! there was only one. ffer—” OSsible», “ Mayor, ain’t et struck ye that mebby re; wee id-Glove Kris is still at the bottom of S, Kia. ‘evil’s Inkhorn, and that it is a double When f his’n that has .been turnin’ things in eng wside-out hyer?” », There would ‘have been, perhaps, a Nate: joing over of the same ground for the iundredth time, but at that moment a ‘all boy of the hotel came up to Grimes and slipped a note into his hand, and # glancing at it the mayor took short Now we , and er to ys?» leave of Hawkins and disappeared. Spell CHAPTER XXIII. roa WINNING GRIMES OVER. _ “Wull, I wonder what now?” Haw- to; kins asked himself, as he looked at the no door that had just closed behind the mayor. all He stood looking for a moment, while of he thought. Then he turned and passed out of the room, and went down the street to a place where he had an ap- pointment. at “JT guess I have et,” he said to him- self. “That dashin’ widder has sent fer 2 him, on business, and that’s what made lb him go so quick and what took him into the house part of the hotel. Yes, that L was et, Pete. I kin see as far through a wall as next one.” So he went muttering to himself, till presently he came to a place where he entered. Here he fell in with the brothers Gib- son, “Well, did you succeed?” asked Ben. | | | | “You disarmed the suspicion?” asked Joe. “Sure. Me and the alike fer once; ha, ha! was convarted.” “Well, good enough, but it won’t do to let Mr. Dougherty have the least ground for further suspicion, pard. have got to be as wary as foxes, now.” “We can do it.” “Wull, what’s on ther programme? ” asked Hawkins. “Why, myself and pard are going to separate and do some scouting on our own account.” “And what about me?” “We want you to walk over to the house with us, so that you can say you saw us go home, if need be.” “All right.” So, they set out, and, talking and laughing in natural, jolly, good-fellow- ship fashion, now and anon referring to the defunct Simon Grudge, they made their way to Mrs. Brown-Blow’s dom- icle, ; There Nate said good-night to them, and they entered their room. Nate returned .to the busy thorough- fare. Meantime, as Hawkins had correctly guessed, Peter Grimes had gone up. to the suite of rooms occupied by Mrs. Kenton. The summons had been from her. He knocked. The door was opened by the widow, who smilingly invited him in, and Miss Kenton greeted him. “Pray be seated, Mr. Grimes,” said the fascinating woman, in her sweetest tone and manner. “I hope I have not incommoded you by sending for you? I am very sorry if I have.’ “You have given me the greatest pleasure, instead,” was the response, as the portly mayor took a chair. “ You have only to command me, Mrs. Kenton, and Il am ready to obey, no matter what else I may have on hand. First duty to beauty, is my motto.” The mayor was something of a beau, and he made the most of every oppor- tunity that offered to say nice things to ladies. The widow smiled the remark aside. “In fact,” she said, sitting down near him, ‘it was partly to please my dear Myra that I sent for you. We desire to consult with you, Mr. Grimes.” “Bless me, but you do me honor,” “Don’t mention it, but rather let us apologize for troubling—”’ “ Tut-tut! ” “Well, I will tell you what we wanted to see you for, Mr. Grimes: We have been talking matters over carefully, and Myra is of my own opinion that it was not Mr. Dursey who killed my poor hus- band.” The mayor’s brow clouded just a little. “JT hope you are right,” he said, ‘Well, what do you thing about it?” , “T have got to believe him guilty until he proves himself innocent.” “You have already promised me that you would try to protect him against a mob, should he be taken.” “ Yes, so I will.” « ‘Well, will you not go a step further than that?” “What dco you mean?” “T will tell you: As things are, Mr. Dursey is not free to act openly in his own defense—” “His fault, Mrs, Kenton.” “Why?” “Let hini come forward like a .man and prove up, and he will be as free as the air.” : “Has it not occurred to you, mayor, that he may not be able to clear him- self, at present, and yet may be entirely innocent, as we firmly believe he is?” “No, it hadn’t appeared to me in that light.” , “What do you think of it?” “J can’t put much stock in it.” mayor thought And ther lawyer We | Kenton,” ** What's the matter?” 19 “You admit that it may be possible?” “Yes, but not probable. If that had been the case, why wouldn’t he have told me, instead of breaking jail as he did? ” “ But, it was not he that was in jail—” “Don’t let us enter upon that argu- ment, I beg. I would have to be ungal- lant enough to differ with you, Mrs. “Well, well, let it pass. Admitting that it was he, for sake of argument, you are openly no friend of ‘his, and he could not know that you were to be trusted.” “He could have trusted Sheriff Rickey.” “But, his duty was to bring him to trial.” “That’s so.” “Do you begin to see what I am com- ing at? May I now proceed?” “A thousand pardons, Mrs. Kenton. Proceed, certainly, and if there is any- thing that I can do—’” “Oh! thank you, mayor!” leaning nearer toward him and almost dazzling him with her bright eyes. “ There is something. you can-do, and we both join in asking the favor. Is it not so, Myra?” “Yes,” said Myra. “And what is it?” the mayor urged. “It is this: You can, if you will, assure Kid-Glove Kris of your protection, and let him come here and do what he can to work out the mystery—’”’ “But, others would arrest him—” ““No, no, he would not come openly; let him be in disguise, and the fact that he would accept your offer ought to as- sure you of his innocence. He is noth- ing to me, of course; [ am taking this step in mere justice to one whom I be- lieve to be innocent.” “Ts that strictly true, Mrs. Kenton?” He looked at her keenly. “Certainly it is true. {f would. do the same for you—even more, or for any one else in the same situation.” “But, how am I to find Kid-Glove Kris?” 4 “ Would not a line in the papers reach him?” “True, true, never thought of that. Would it be a great favor if I were to do do this, Mrs. Kenton?” “Tt would, indeed. I believe that Kid-Glove Kris, working to prove his own innocence, could in a short time bring to justice the actual murderer of my husband.” “ Well, I'll do it.” “Oh! how can we thank you? Till not forget it, Mr. Grimes,” with another flash of her eyes. ; “T’ll remind you of that, some time,” said Grimes. ‘This is taking a risk that I don’t like, and putting myself in a bad boat, but I’ll do it for you.” * “You will not regret it, I give you my promise. And, if you can bring it about, how would it do for you to appoint an interview with him ‘here in my rooms? There would not be the slightest chance for discovery, you know.” “Very good, I’ll do it.” “And here, you know, he might be willing to tell the whole matter, so far as known to him,” The plan was further arranged, and the mayor took leave, the woman going to the door with him and giving him her hand, allowing it to rest in his own for a few moments. CHAPTER XXIV. SOME CLEVER MOVES. When Nate Hawkins returned to the town center, after parting with the pard detectives, about the first man he fell in with was Gil Johnson. The suspected guardsman tried to avoid the meeting, until he saw that he was discovered, when he put on a bold front and came forward with as good grace as possible. “ Hillo, Gil!” the ex-mayor greeted. on

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a _ where he could not be seen. 20 Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. “What do ye see the matter?” John- son demanded, “I’m all right, ain’t I?” “Yes, fur as I know, ye are; but what made ye think of shyin’ off when ye seen me? TI ain’t gunnin’ fur ye, Gil; you orter know that.” “Who shied?” “You did.” “You only thought so.” “Mebby I only thought so the other ' time, too.” “What other time?” “Oh! come, now, no use standin’ off that way, old boy. I seen you and you seen me, and that’s all thar is about et.” ee mean when that dog barked at e?” oe Yes. ” “Well, was I shyin’ off from ye then, as you call it? What reason had I to run away from you, anyhow? As you said, you ain’t a-gunnin’ after me, and I know et.” “Shall I tell ye why?” Sik “Yo. .kin.” “You was out thar to meet somebody, but that dog let you on to me, and | skart you off.” “Ha! ha! Is that what you thought? Wull, ye was wrong, Nate, dead wrong that time. I wasn’t out thar to meet nobody, and what harm if I had been? I don’t want nobody doggin’ after me.” “Then what was ye thar for?” “You and me’s good friends, old man, but that’s none of your business, to say et perlite.” “Wull, mebby you are right. We have got our opines about that. I am not goin’ to quarrel with ye about et. But, wasn’t you out thar at the same place last night when that man got away?” Johnson started! “Who told ye that?” he demanded. “ Nobody; I was only askin’ ye, but ye needn’t answer now.” “T ain’t goin’ to answer, Nate Haw- kins. You and me’s been good friends, as I said afore, but look out.” “Where are ye goin’ now?” “Straight home and to bunk. Goin’ my way?” “Yes, if you don’t mind. ‘great goin’ on to-night, I see.” So, they’ passed down the street, chat- ting as they went, and when they came to Johnson’s shanty he said good-night and entered. “ Nate went on down the street, till out of sight from the shanty, when he went around some other buildings and came out in a few minutes.at a point where he could watch Johnson’s shanty without being seen. But, he was too late. Gil had been lying in wait for him on the street, and had played him a clever trick. He had entered his shanty and had closed and locked the door, as Nate could testify, but barely had Nate passed from sight when Johnson came out by a rear door. ; Pausing a moment there in the shad- ows to look and listen, he hastened away from the spot. If he had shaken’ off one shadower, however, there was another of whose presence he was not aware, who went after him like a shadow veritable. Johnson went on, avoiding the light places, and was presently well out of the town and half way across the flats on the north side, where they stretched to the hills that inclosed the gulch. The man who followed was Detective Dave. When Johnson stopped, finally, it was mear an old building that had been built for some purpose or other in time past, but had now fallen into disuse. here he secreted himself on the side ‘where the shadow was deepest, and Had his follower been Nate Hawkins, perhaps Nothin’ a discovery would have been again the re- ; But this time it via an ee ae ‘the _ business . : Detective Dave made a wide detour, taking care not to let his body come into relief against any light background, and in that way he finally came up to the old building unseen and unheard, By long patience and careful listen- ing and close observation, he located the exact position of his man, and by the same process further carried out, man- aged to get a position where he could see and hear all that might be said, when the other party arrived, and with no fear of discovery himself. That some one was expected, he knew full well. Otherwise, Gil Johnson would not be there; it stood to reason. And thus they waited. It was a weary wait, and Johnson was far less patient than the man who watched him. He muttered an oath now and again, and complained at the fate that was robbing him of good sleep. Once he*said, half aloud: “Confound her! she has got to pay extra for this waitin’, when she does come.” At last, after a long and trying vigil, there came the sound of a chirping in the direction of the lights of the camp, and the waiting watchman answered it in like. It was rejoined to, and a little later a dark form was seen coming in the direction of the old building. As it came nearer it proved to be a woman. A little distance off she stopped and chirped softly again, and when Johnson had answered, came swiftly on to the spot where he stood. The detective’s eyes had become so accustomed to the darkness that he was able to make out quite well what the woman was like, and he felt a keen dis- appointment, at first. The person had the appearance of be- ing a common woman, slouchily clad, but when she came close she threw back the shawl from her head, and the detective’s disappointment was dispelled at once, for she was the opposite of what her outward appearance had indi- cated. The woman was Mrs. Kenton. “Are you alone?” she asked. “ee Yes.” “You are sure?” around as she asked. “Yes, I’m sure. I have been hours in this one spot, and not a soul has been near here.” “T am glad of that. I must pay you and get back again without delay. Here is your money,” pressing something into his willing hand. “I only want to ask you how you did it?” “What difference does et make how et was done, ma’m, so long as the man was let out, "eordin’ to ’greement?” “ Because it is a mystery, and I would like to know.” “That wasn’t no part of the bargain, that I was to tell. I didn’t say I would tell how I done et.” “No, but I want you to tell me. Here, here is ten dollars more for the infor- mation. What is a puzzle to everybody else is a puzzle to me as well, and I oo curious.” She pressed the money upon him, a he took it and shoved it deep into his pocket, as he had done the first, saying: “Wull, ef you must know, I’ll tell ye: When I got back thar and opened the door, later on, blame my cats ef ther looking well all chap wasn’t gone, hide and hair, and not a sign of him could 1 find any- whars!” ae Gone! ” “ Bxact.” “You are telling me the truth?” “The whole truth, so help me God. So, I thought ther safest thing fer me to do was to git rid of the key and know nothin’, and that’s what I done.” “Then you were telling the truth, after. all, ing. But have taken my money | 3 f in- tention was good enough to se honestly, so keep it.” “Yes, I intend to, ma’m.” “You are a man | know I cag Johnson, I may have other wd you to do, and I will pay you well.” “Tm your man, ma’m. But, q know whar Kid-Glove Kris is?” “No, I do not, but I want to fin Do you know where he is, Gil?” “No, I don’t know a thing aboul If I git on to ‘him, though, I will know.” “Yes, do that, and you will be paid. Woe to you if you betra though. You will. wish that yo never been born. [ give you fair ing.” And with that she turneg glided away. CHAPTER XXV. THRILLING SITUATION. Gil Johnson looked after the wo until she had disappeared .in the d ness. “She’s a high-stepper, hang m she ain’t,” he then muttered. “I wou mind bein’ Kid-Glove Kris myself, t loved by a woman like that. Well, If the money, anyhow,” and he clapped pocket as he spoke, and started awa His shadower had already gone, had even distanced the woman, in direction of the hotel. Taking position near where she m! pass to reach the side door, Dave th waited until she came along. “ Marie?” he then softly called. The woman stopped short instantly “Marie?” he repeated. “Is that you “Who are you?” in a low voice. “Kris.2 Instantly she ran toward him, and, the deep shadows of the great buildiy threw her arms around his neck, He, in the meantime, had removed h disguise, and it was Kid-Glove Kris, the woman believed, save alone thi his moustache was missing. The pard detectives had been obliged dispense with their moustaches in orde to perfect the disguises. It was a delicate part for Detectiv Dave to play, but he embraced the we man, and did not hisitate to kiss her. “Come! we must steal away fron here,” she whispered. “‘We might b seen. We will talk only a few minutes, fo I must get back into the house before am discovered.” “Where have you been?” asked Dav4 as they drew into a deeper shadow clos to the house. ~ “To pay an honest debt for you.” “What was it?” | “T paid the man whom I engaged ta get you out of the jail last night, when they had you downed.” “Then it was you set “No, it was not I, bu ployed for the purpose.” Briefly, then, she told him of her hiring Gil Johnson to liberate him from the jail, and pretend that he had been over- powered. That had been the original programme. The woman was more puzzled than we e free?” she had been, and as Dave pretended not - to be able to enlighten her, it left her in the dark entirely. © He told her all, that a man had entered the jail, had romoved his handcuffs and set him free, but that he did not know who it was nor what the object. “ But,” changing the subject, “ you can surely clear yourself of the charge of murder, Kris.” “Unfortunately, I can’t. All the cir- cumstances are against me, as you Know: -—or as I can tell you.” i “But you are innocent, Kris—that is, I believe you are, and so does my hus- ‘We are going to try to enable you to prove your innocence, if Possible.” Se pote hat i. I were to confess sects I ee band’s daughter. the man I em-|

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_ Kid- Glove ‘Kris, the Sport. _ 21 “ How can you know it?” “ By my faith in you.” “What jury wiil believe that? will ask for proof, and if it is not forth- coming, I must hang.” He felt the woman shudder as she leaned against him. They “No! no! We must save you, we are going to save you,” she said rapidly. Listen to what I have to say; then you must lend yourself to the scheme. “T have seen Pete Grimes, and have made him promise to give youa fair show to clear yourself. He will try to find you, by a line in the papers, and you must let him know where you are. Then you can come here, and he will aid you all he can.” “But he hates me, and would only like to get such a chance to deal me a blow.” “No, no, he will see you through, for my sake.” “Ah! then you—” “J am playing my hand for all it is worth, Kris, and all for your sake. Let me save you, and that is all I ask.” “But I will not place myself in any ' Such position as that, Marie.” “Don’t refuse anything that can pos- sibly serve you, Kris.” “But I must. Don’t you see how it would be? Is it not true that Pete Grimes loves you?” “ T suppose he does, but, what do I care for that? He is afraid to let it be seen that he has any such feeling, for fear that he may get into trouble the same as you.” “T thought so.’ “You thought so? Why, you knew it well enough.” Dave had spoken unguardedly, his own mind instead of words fitting the part he was playing. “Then what do you purpose doing?” “Go it alone,” he said. “But what can you hope to accom: plish? ” “T mean to hunt down the man whe killed your husband.” “No! no! You must not do that—you must not take the risk. Only save your- . Self, and let the rest remain as it is. ‘Think of the danger you incur.” “No more than I ain enjoying at pres- ent, if as much. I cannot clear myself, as I have told you, without putting the crime where it belongs. Don’t you see it yourself?” “Yes, yes, I see it. Oh! Kris! It was not you did it? I am not putting my trust in you blindly, am I? You need not fear oe tell me the truth, no matter what it “T have said enough to convince you mat I am innocent,” was the answer, we Fe if I cannot prove myself so, I might . ell be guilty, so far as my fate is con- cerned, ¥ must hunt down the murder- “And that we will do,” said the wo- man, in a hard, determined tone. “He shall not escape us. But not another word to-night. We must part, for, to be seen here and thus, would tell terribly against us both.” And wing her -.arms around his neck once more, she kissed him and ran rae o 4° 7 et CHAPTER XXVIL _ PLAYING DOUBLE TRUMPS, Detective Dave's thoughts and feelings would be hard to describe, He stood where the woman had left him until he saw her enter the house; then he sauntered slowly from the spot. re ave what am I to think now?” he “sat | himself. > “JT was beginning to sus- ++ of the crime, or of having insti- , but she wheeled suddenly and yo it me upon me—that is, taking me to be Kid-Glove Kris. Can it be that he is the man, after all?” * t was impossible for him to be- lieve ‘that. He had been too frank in his _ dealings with the detective for that. And ret, if the w ah ds . i=] snd rina! oth you bt Ne i “T trust you, certainly. Why should I not trust you? Whatever you think is for the best, that we will do. We are working for one common end, and we are determined to reach it.” “Yes, no matter at what cost.” The words were spoken with consider- able vehemence. There was a ring to the voice. that be- tokened a grim determination, and which the younger woman misinterpreted. “Oh! I trust you fully,’ Myra assured. *“T am only ashamed that I am too cow- ardly to take my share of the dangers with you. If Mr. Coleman. had not been murdered—” “There are other detectives to be had, dear.” *“ And I have been thinking about send- ing for another with little loss of time. Do you know, judging Mr. Coleman by his looks, I could not have placed full confidence in him, anyhow. I did not like his face.” “But you saw him dead.” “It does not matter; his face was his face, dead or alive.” .“ Well, I quite agree with you, though I would not have hurt your feelings by saying so. It was the face of a brute!” Vehement again. “Oh! I would not have gone as far as that, Marie.” “ And I do go that. far; of a brute!” Myra became immediately thoughtful, and for a few seconds was silent. Mrs. Kenton was watching her closely. Pres- ently Myra looked up. ““T wonder if it can be possible, that this man was not David Coleman at all?” she queried. “Not he!” the widow exclaimed. “The thought just came to me,” said Myra. “If it were not so improbable, I would be almost tempted to believe that such was the case.” -“JT do not see how .you can for a mo- ment doubt,” returned Mrs. Kenton. “ He had letters and papers in his pocket prov- ing who he was, and you know that he was coming here secretly.” “Well, it was only a thought,” ob- served Myra. “His face was such a dis- appointment.” Each sought her bed, each with widely different thoughts and emotions ies mind and soul. ecole Mrs. Nocsianes entering the | hotel, and proceeding straight to her room, had entered softly, as if to main- tain secrecy, but found Myra up and pacing the floor in her night robe. “Mercy! where have you been? ’”’-My- ra exclaimed. *°*Sh! do not speak aloud! ” cautioned the woman, who closed the door and re- moved her rough shawl before offering any explanation. “JT have been playing the spy,” she then declared, confidentially. “I thought you were asleep, or I would have taken you with me, if you would have dared to go.” Y “‘T was asleep,” said Myra. ‘I awoke in something of a fright, for I thought I saw a man in the front room here, in the dim light, and when I called out to you and you did not answer I became alarmed. And then, when I ran to your room and,found you were not there—” “You thought you saw a man in the room?” “Yes, so I thought.” “But you must have been mistaken.” “Yes, [ suppose it must have been a shadow from the street, but at first sight it seemed real enough.” “Tt must have been a shadow. I locked the door when I went out you know. You heard me unlock it to come in. I think you must have been mis- taken, dear.” “Yes, no doubt.” “Well, I have made a discovery.” “ What is it?” ‘‘T have discovered that there are, in- deed, two men answering to the descrip- tion of Kid-Glove Kris.” “How did you find that out?” * By playing detective. It is not the first time I have done it, since your poor father was murdered, and it will not be the last, perhaps, for I am determined that his slayer shall not escape.” “Tell me, though, how you found out for certain that there are two men look- ing so nearly alike that they cannot be told apart.” “Why, it is easy enough to explain. I met one whom I took’'to be the sport, and addressed him, but found out my mistake. I tell you we have got to be more than careful, Myra.” “ But who is the other?” “T do not know.” “Why did you not find out?” | “ How could I do that? I would have had to reveal my own identity.” “JT did not think of that. But now, what are we to think of the man? Is he friendly to the real Kid-Glove Kris or t? ”» “That I do not know. But one thing is sure, Myra.” “ And what is that?” “That you will have to take more than care in order not to mistake the one for the other. After what you have confessed to me concerning your feelings towards Mr. Dursey, it would be awful for you to mistake this other man for him.” “ But surely you could tell them apart now, Marie?” “Barely possible, but you could not. Nor could I, perhaps, without some con- versation.” “Then Mr. Hawkins was right. if “Yes, he was right.” “ And you will tell Grimes so?” “No! no! We will keep it to ourselves, for the present, dear.” “What is your object in doing that? I should think it would be the better to support Mr. Hawkins and make it known.” “Mr. Grimes would not be convinced easily, and it would only lead to inquiry as to what had taken me out to-night, and would do no good. It would undo the work I am trying to do.” “Then you have a suspicion who did | kill poor papa?” “No, not ie but I am trying to find out by playing the shadow upon certain ones for certain reasons, which I cannot make known, not even to. Sigs as ’ it was the face CHAPTER XXVII. A WITNESS ON HAND. Detective Dave walked on, head bowed in thought. It was one of the most baffl- ing cases he had ever taken hold of, as well as the strangest experience of his life in the way of personal misadventures. From his abstraction he was roused finally by voices near at hand, and he stopped short, right where he was in shadow. They were men’s voices, and were just around the corner of a building. | Going stealthily forward to investigate, he recognized the voice of the man then speaking as that of Mayor Grimes. “T tell you he is guilty,” he was urging, “and once we get hold of him he will never be able to prove his innocence.” “But he would have to have a fair trial,” urged the other. “ This is a civ- ilized country, and we have got to make — a show of dealing fair.”, _ It was Dougherty who spoke. - ‘ “Yes, I know, but a very little evi- dence on top of the circumstantial evi- § dence as it is, would down him.” p “Then you want him downed?” “See here, Dougherty; I believe he is | the guilty man, and I don’t want him to escape by any tom-foolery or ju of the law. Just understand this—that . I want Kid-Glove to have the fairest pF: kind of a trial, and that I want oe ae nace” if guilty.” y.” My tase

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‘ 22 Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. asked what was your opinion ¢ he |; lady?” , sert) oe “She is.as innocent as an angel; th re is my opinion of her.” twault “But, she may know who did it; ¢ound she may suspect some one, but lagk (muéh the proof to place the crime on him.”| Dp, “What makes you think that?” | killed “Because she seems so certain thin orc Kid-Glove Kris is innocent.” A “M “ Blazes! Now it is the other one !morril you that is Kid-Glove Kris. But, ifs “«T. did suspect any one, she would te]! tyn.*e !-t¢ “ What you know and I know, we need | cused of the murder of Thomas Kenton, not hesitate to talk about. We know | could you clear yourself?” that Mrs. Kenton wants that fellow found The mayor gave so violent a start that innocent.” . it was noticed even there in the dark. “Well, yes, so she does.” “There would be no motive,” he said “The fact of the business is, I have | quiekly. promised her to find him and give him} “Just as much as there would be in __ the freedom of the town, letting him go | my case, sir,” returned the sport. about in disguise, with the idea that he} In that instant Grimes threw himself may find the murderer.” upon the man so suddenly that Kris had if T see. no chance to raise his gun, That was a good stroke. But thatis} The lawyer lent a hand immediately, not to say that some smart fellow, your- | and between them they might have over- self for instance, may not’ penetrate his | come the sport, but in almost the same | authorities of it at once.” » sho W disguise. . moment the mayor felt the cold touch of “Unless there was a reason wh:} fing ‘f) 7 Ah! I see, I see,’ a gun behind his ear, and a hand was | could not do so.” Mad a And if that happens, of course I could | inserted under his collar with a grip as of “Nothing would keep her from tellin! « @ not be responsible for it. steel. if she had such a suspicion.” - |thing , bi Not at all. : “Let up!” was the warning, in low “Well, mayor, here is a proposition tof the And, if the sheriff takes such good} put stern command. “Let up, or the| you,” now put in Kris the real; “if yo “Ww care of him that he cannot possibly es- | worse for you! You have got the wrong cape, and the law steps in and finishes| man, I am Kid-Glove Kris! There was will just let this matter take its ow “It course, we will make no mention of t the matter, the woman cannot blame | a witness to what was said, you see, and ! Ps r, night’s doings. If you don’t—” 2 me. See? M the best. thing you two gentlemen can “ What if I don’t? ” olen Yes, I see.” do is to make as little fuss as possible, I “We'll be obliged to tell what Wi “N ' “And you will have about a thousand | warn you! ” ' dollars in pocket.” “Ah! now I begin to grasp the situa- know.” busin “You are talking for your own protetdid n: tion, that is what you are coming atmy hi f tion. There is not the slightest doubt CHAPTER XXVIII. And you are taking me 1. besides.” +» of the man’s guilt, in my mind.” DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. “ How Fa that?” . 1s ‘i rte And I have no doubt but that you| ‘The lawyer was first to succumb. He} “You know I am pledged te “Bu can make twelve other men think a8 | let go his .,hold almost instantly, with | your tracks and give you half a would ' you do, if you are on that side, nor that | the gasp: “A witness! ” to prove your innocence, if you @& Grime you es help losing in a losing game if| « And a full-grown one, too, you bet! ” “You seemed to forget that a, mou: te y it es eh ns on poe er it 4 from Detective Dave. ago, sir.” \£Q~ar lain sae Ox iy pee - atin een, Dougherty understood all more fully | “I was beside myself, stung by th’ «yy ye peo Ms tae 41 i if “ tha | than did the mayor, but, under pressure | accusation you flung in my teeth.” kent f on the one side and lose if on the) 4+ tne gun, he, too, relaxed his hold upon] “Well, do you accept?” respe other. Is that all?” ” * Not quite all,” spoke another voice at : that juncture, and a man stepped from around a corner of the building, con- fronting the pair, with a gun in hand. Both men gave a start, and even De- * tective Dave was surprised. None of iat them had known that the man was there. “ Who are you? ” demanded the mayor. _. “ Kid-Glove Kris, at your service! ” he The man removed his disguise. i ? That disguise, we will say right here, wie was not the same in which he had ap- I peared as Ben Gibson, __ Neither was the one in which Detect- _-ive Dave had recently been working that of the assumed Joe Gibson. And, by the | way, and as he was just reminded, he i had not replaced the beard since his in- - terview with Mrs. Kenton. if There was barely light enough for |. them to see. “ Well, what do you mean by appearing in this manner, interrupting a private conversation?” the mayor further de- “T have to accept, or break MY WOlrghe ry with the woman who foolishly thinkpijgni you innocent,” «eq “Very well, then; it is understood « yw We will say nothing about this little em” xxpj counter—for the present, at any rate,e an We are willing to believe you innocent. « a “It will be just as well to let the matpyst ter rest, for the present,” remarked LaWmon | yer Dougherty. ‘“ Nothing is to be gainet « yy) by an exposure, and it might give the “T real culprit a chance to elude the graskons of the law altogether.” st c Pe SA the sport. The sport’s gun was up and the two were covered! , “ Now, what are you going to do about it?” was demanded by Kid-Glove Kris, the real. “What do you mean, ruffians?” cried Grimes. ‘“ What do you mean, holding two gentlemen up at the point of your guns in this manner? Do you mean to rob us?” “Sure enough!” cried the lawyer. “Shall I call for help, Mr. Grimes? These two fellows deserve the gallows. We must taken them prisoners somehow. They shall give an account of—” “ Suppose you stop your mill,” sug- gested Kris, letting him smell of the tube of his gun. “Tf you say so,” the lawyer submitted. scarcely above a whisper. “T do say so.” “Tf you speak out that way again,” said Detective Dave to the mayor, “I'll “Then you accept our statement tha neither of us did the deed?” demanded “y, Detective Dave. pran “Por the time being, yes.” rin | “ Wnough said! ” from Kid-Glove Kris. py “ Good-night to you, mayor, and to yor « lawyer. Next time we meet I hope et will be under pleasanter circumsteances.” « I And, with that, Kris and Dave backed), , rt away, and were soon lost to sight in the « G. darkness, ; ey t ei manded, ue a os ve bite run you in for * ween Ri’ “T heard the remark made by Mr. | “te murderer o On. CHAPTER XXIX. | .\ere . Dougherty just now,” answered the sport, For the murder of Thomas Kenton? ERS SEO Ra a OST ‘ris.’ “and I wanted to inform him that it | Why, you did it yourself! : 3 He A "will not be necessary for him to appear| ‘1 know why you have been so de-| The pard detectives went straight UD\, , $ termined not to accept my word that I | the gulch. ae on either side, in the event of my arrest.” “Well, no matter what you heard, it _ would be hard for you to prove anything, even were it worth your while to try.” uc “ How go?” “We are two to one. I have been asked - to do you a friendly turn, in case I hap- pened to fall in with you before your ar- rest, and I am ready to do it if you are ready to accept it.” “Yes, I heard you saying something of the kind.” y ss “Maybe you heard all that was said.” - “Yes, I heard it all.” “Well, then, what have you to say “Well, what do you think now, ae am innocent.” This was carrying out their prear- ranged plan to confuse. “Which one of you is Kid-Glove Kris, anyhow?” the mayor demanded of Grimes. “Tm the man, sir!” from Dave. “And a minute ago it was you,” turn- ing to Kris. ; “Well, you see another claimant in the field now,” Kris rejointed. “You will have to decide to suit yourself.’ ” “The first one caught will be hanged, that is how it will be decided,” growled the official. “ After this night’s business you will get yourself in a box along with us, and may be left in it alone. That is, unless “No, I have not as yet.” you can positively prove that you did “Will you answer a few not do the deed, as, perhaps, you did | tions?” | not,” intimated Dave. Sy SNe “T swear that I did not!” emule “Well, so do we swear that we did ure. | not!” eis ; } Hig | “Then it fs all a blank mystery to e | me,” avowed the magistrate. Wi “You ha pard?” the sport asked. ple “Tt seems to get deeper at every 1s a step,” Dave responded. i “Do you think the mayor had a hand “ u Init tt ' : “Not at all.” | pe “Then what do you think?” Azone “That he is afraid suspicion may fall ,, on him. And I take it that he is in love | | with the widow, or has been hard smit- P< ten with her charms, and may have com- o promised himself further than would bets good for the safety of his neck,” ey, “Hardly a doubt of it,” agreed Kris. “Have you any doubt who can be the guilty person?” from Dave. nit bs

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ee rt) th ‘NE in to believe that she loves you?” esas, I am sorry to say, I have. I am ure she does, though it is more her twault than mine. I avoided her when I c-ound out the true state of affairs, as kK €muéh as she would let me.” 1.”1 “Do you think it possible that she killed her husband out of love for you, thigin order to be free? ” AL “My God! No! What has put that © imorrible thought into your head?” '8 “JT have had an interview with Mrs. tm ton,” sho When?” in surprise, finc fhis night. She took me for you, “sud acted accordingly.” in! “Great Scott! And she let fall some- ithing that has made you suspect her nm tof the crime?” yo “Well, yes, at first.” ow “It is impossible. She is no angel, thiperhaps, but I cannot believe her vile enough to have done a thing like that, Coleman.” » _ Wi “No, nor do I, now. The fact of the business is, she was not sure that you atecdid not do it, and I had to assure her on 3 almy honor—playing your role, you under- 3 ibys nat I did not do it.” siD'y ‘ings are coming to a desperate would here.” Grime, 4 27 right when you say that.” «-snen she acted in a way that gave u her secret respecting her feelings \'Qward me, eh?” thy “Most decidedly. She may. be inno- rent, as you say, and by her uncertainty respecting you, I am inclined to believe VOr'she must be; but, God help any one who inKmight come between you and her, now!” ' “Great heavens! ” impressively. food « What is the matter now?” 2 e’ Kris was silent for a moment; then rat@\e answered: ; ent.’ “ And I must tell you, since nothing matnust be reserved, working toward a com- 4aWmon end as we are.” =i “What was your thought, then?” | the «1 have to admit that I love Tom Ken- TaSLon’s daughter, the young girl who has that’st come here.” ded “You love Myra Kenton?” née" “Yes; at first sight of her passion prang alive in my soul, and I must Kris vin her or die.” oni Dave’s head dropped and he was silent. ef a me Ueod is the matter?” Kris presently isked. ead “T am honor bound to tell you,” was , the® sad response. |“ Good heavens! What is it?” a \“I believe there is a similarity be-. veen us that is even deeper than the ere outward semblance, Kid-Glove ris.” ; t up|, What is it?” “A similitude of soul—a something now, \s* I will not attempt to explain, for é reason that it would prove impos- very Pie. We have already seen that we ~” tve tastes in common,” hand ., ¥®, yes.” - “Well, our affections have been des- Bed ,to go out toward the same ob- et a | , fall * Heavens! Do you mean to say—” Fe th That I, too, love Myra Kenton. My smit= perience is yours repeated.” com- Both were silent, and thus they walked ld beta considerable distance. | ‘Kris was the first one to speak. “Tt is fate,” he said. i e the “I was honor bound to tell you,” from ‘Well, which shall it be, friendship nmity between us, pard?” -n, and if your feeling toward the ly is the same as mine—” ry sure i nd yours the same as mine— Can we be friends?” gain silence. : Can we be foes, after our good be- '” feelingly.. art, 1 contact with the lady t reason you have a ami at at - j— “That is one point settled. Have you | t is a matter in which only one can no,” avowed Dave, Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. ——— “And before that you had been in correspondence with her, and you came here as her agent. I have no right to step between you and her, and I am honor bound to take a back seat and see your happiness eventually perfected. Let it be that way, Coleman! ” “No; that is not fair to you. My rela- tions with her were purely of a business nature—and still are, for that matter. But, here is a proposition.” “Name it, no matter what it may be; if it will let us out of this queer dilem- ma.” “Let us leave the matter entirely to fate or Providence, whichever may rule, and agree to abide by the decision of circumstances. If you can agree to that, here is my hand in honor.” “ Agreed! And here is mine,” returned Kris. “Let it be a fair and open contest between us, and the best man win. But, both may be a little premature, for the lady may be already out of the market, so to say, and neither of us might be able to win a smile from her, anyhow.” “That is true; and yet, here is a ter- rible thought which carries us back to the starting point of this strange busi- ness: What if something of this should become known to Mrs. Kenton, having the regard for you we know she has? What if she comes to know that you lave Myra? It was that thought which struck you a while ago, and not an idle one, is it, either, pard Kris?” “My God! It must not be known! ” cried Kris. “It would place that girl’s life in danger—I fear it, I know it!” CHAPTER XXX. AMAZING EVENT HAPPENS. The following morning Hard Pan was thrown into a state of wildest excite- ment. ; It was reported that Miss Kenton was missing from her room in the hotel, and nothing could be learned of her where- abouts. Mrs. Kenton, of course, made the dis- covery. She arose a little later than usual, and made haste to the dining- room, where, as she said, she had ex- pected to find Myra. Seeing that she was not there, she im- mediately inquired of one of the waiters if Myra had. breakfasted, and when in- formed that she had not been seen that ‘morning, Mrs. Kenton became greatly troubled and hastened to the parlors to see if she was there, She was not found. “Tt is strange, very strange!” she said, returning to the dining-room, where-several were still at breakfast. “I awoke a little later than usual, and as Myra was not in the room I concluded that she had come down to breakfast | - without waking me. The door was un- locked. Where can she be? Please start inquiry immediately.” The woman had no thought for her own breakfast, but hastened from one part of the house to another, asking every servant she met, but no one had seen the young lady. ‘ pe Then the inquiry was pushed outside of the house. _ : With nothing but a loose “ fascinator ” over her head, the widow ran thither and thither, making inquiries of every- body she knew, but nowhere had Myra Kenton been seen. Finally, Mrs. Kenton was about in de- spair. She was wringing her hands, and ie} look of distress on her face was piti- able, By that time the whole camp had been aroused, and, as said, a state of was Myra Kenton? What had taken her forth in that secret manner? - Mayor Grimes and Nate Hawkins were talking together near the steps of the hn! Mr. Grimes!” she cried, up. “You have heard the @ hha a | in the matter of the watch he had tried wildest excitement prevailed. Where | piazza when the woman returned to the Motel ov ico) ah { truth—that my dear Myra is missing and cannot be found? Can you not do something in the matter?” “T have done everything possible, Mrs. Kentono,” the mayor answered. “I have made men hustle around ever since I heard of it, but it seems that noth- ing is to be discovered. Have you no idea where the young lady has gone to?” ““No, no, I cannot imagine where she is, sir. I know that she retired to her bed when I retired to mine, and that is the last I saw of her.” “ And you slept all night?” “T do not remember waking up more than once.” 4 “Was she in her room then?” “T do not know. I did not'go in to see. I did not think about her at all.” “ What awakened you that once?” “TJ. do not know that anything awak- ened me; I simply woke up.” “And you did not lie awake long?” “No.” “You heard nothing unusual?” “No, no. I tell you it is altogether a puzzle to me. I am utterly at loss and almost distracted.” And truly she looked it. “Bt is durnation queer,’ commented Nate Hawkins, shaking his head. ‘“Didn’t leave a scrap of paper nur nothin’ to say whar she was goin’?”’ é “Not a thing, sir, that I have been able to discover.” ; “You and she appeared to be on friend- ly terms,” remarked the mayor. “Why, we loved each other, Mr. Grimes!” “Well, I don’t know what to make of Ati, “What am I to do?” the woman asked, wringing her hands. “There is only one thing I can think of—that she must have gone away in her sleep.” “Good heavens! That is worse than pe tor no telling what evil has befallen er!’ “You said the room was locked on the inside?” “The room leading into the hall, yes.” “But one, you said, was unlocked.” “Yes, with the key in the lock on the — inside, just as usually left.” “Which is proof that she left the room of her own free will. How will it do to offer a reward?” “That must be done immediately, be- fore harm comes to her, if it has not come already. Make it a thousand dol- lars, mayor, to any one who can discover her.” : “Tl see to it at once, Mrs. Kenton.” The woman mounted the steps and entered the house, and Grimes and Nate Hawkins went in the direction of the mayor's office. “Well, what are we Nate?” Grimes asked. “Tt gits thicker all the time,” growled the other. He was not feeling in the best mood. He had been greatly disappointed to make of it, to keep upon Gil Johnson, the night be- fore. ‘i After standing for an age, as it seemed to him, feeling certain that Gill would come forth from his shanty sometime during the night, what had been his dis- f gust to see the fellow enter instead of — leave his domicile! “Here is something entirely amaz- ing,” Grimes went on. “The murdér of - Tom Kenton was bad enough, but now comes this disappearance of his daugh- ter on top of that. I don’t like it” ~~ “Nor any one else. I’m of opinion, mayor, that Kenton must have had a bitter enemy, who is bound to work — Sars 2 evil to‘all that belonged to him.” “You may be right, but I don’t se what good it would do him to harm thi child, after he had made away with th father.” Hat now! wh hee

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F i ¢ i ih a '‘that,” spoke up Dave. come of her?” 24 <T35 ena Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. not as certain of their honest intent as you seem to be, Nate.” “But, here we are at the office. Say, haye you seen anything of Dougherty?” “ Not this mornin’.” “T wish you would hustle around and find him and bring him here. He does my writing for me, you know, and I want to get that reward up immediately.” So, Hawkins set off to find the lawyer, but he had barely pased out of sight when Dougherty slipped into the office, “There they go!” he said, pointing to the Gibson brothers, who were walking ‘in the direction of the mines, talking together. “I feel certain of our suspicion now.” “Yes, so dol. But here is a matter for you to see #o for me, and that done, we will seek an encounter with them and have them unmasked. Maybe they are at the bottom of all this.” CHAPTER XXXI, NEW LIGHT THROWN OUT. The Pard Detectives had just heard the news, but not knowing how to act at the first moment, they had strolled off in the direction of the mines. “ My God,” said Kid-Glove Kris, “ what can it mean, coming so suddenly? It cannot be that the woman has learned anything, and has had time to act upon the information?” “No! no! That is impossible,” pro- tested Dave. ‘‘No one knew our secret Save our two selves, and we have breathed it to no one save to each other. We must look further.” Kid-Glove Kris stopped short, laying a hand on the arm of his companion. “What are we going out this way for?” “T don’t know; but we must go on, now. We can go as far as the mines, as we are heading in that direction.” “And we can there ask again con- cerning the prospect of work if we re- main here awhile. That will serve to strengthen the hand we are playing, for we do not want to be discovered.” So they went on to the mine, where they inquired for Mr. Sawyer, and had some talk with him about work, and then set out to return to the camp proper. Presently they observed Billy Blow coming toward them, and going in the direction of the mine, head down. As he came near, what was their sur- prise when he spoke out, without lifting his head or his eyes, and addressed them in these words: “Don’t stop! Don’t look at me! Don’t pay no ’tention, nohow! but keep yer eyes peeled fer Dougherty and _ ther mayor. this to you. That’s all, gents!” _ “All right!” responded Dave. did that well, my man.” The camp bummer went on his way, and the pards continued down to the “You camp. Striking the main street, they saw the ‘mayor and the lawyer coming toward them. As they drew near, the mayor stopped. “Good morning, boys!” he greeted. “You have heard the news, I suppose? ‘Where have you been?” “Been up to the mines to see about work, if we stay around awhile and wait for et,” answered Kid-Glove Kris. “‘ What _. news do you mean?” that Kenton’s daughter has | LW DY, disappeared.” “Yes, we did hear something about “What has be- _ “That is the question. We have post- ed a reward of a thousand dollars, and if you have got plenty of idle time on your hands, take hold and see if you can’t find her.” “Guess that ain’t in our line, boss,” do it.” eNO! _ intimated Kris. “ All the same, we'd like foal Nate Hawkins told me to say | iH th hyer ye both be as big as life! Mornin’, boys!” On the coming of Nate, lawyer, and they cut their interview short and sauntered on in the direction of the mines. Nate joined the pards, and all went in the opposite direction. “Did ye see Billy Blow?” he asked. “ Yés.’’ “And he told ye?” “Yes; but, what did you mean?” “They are onto ye, deader’n Sioux Injun, that’s what!” “How can they be certain that their surmise is correct? They cannot prove it.” “ What if they arrest ye and put ye in the cooler, and strip ye of yer disguises, wouldn’t that tell the story plain enough? ” “But, they won’t arrest us.” “How d’ye know they won’t?” “The mayor has a good reason for not poking too far into our business, now.” “But, all the same, he is going to poke till he finds out what he wants to know. That is, if he can, which may bo some doubtful, if Billy plays well his part.” “He played it well enough when he met us.” “He ain’t as big a fool as he looks.” “What is his part?” Nate explained, and the pards enjoyed a laugh over the scheme. “But, how did you get on to tho fact that they suspected?’ asked Dave, “By keeping my top eye open,” an- swered Nate. ‘When Pete sent me to look for Dougherty, I s’pected somethin’, and I stole back and heard enough to convince me that they, meant ye no good.” “Well, no matter. We have little to fear from the mayor, and the less if Billy Blow can get in his fine work. There is something of far more import- ance to look after just now.” “And what is that?” “The missing young woman. Have you any explanation to offer respecting her disappearance? ” “Nary. It is all a puzzle, unless—”’ and he hesitated. “Unless what?” ‘ “Et ain’t worth while to mention it, fer et won’t stand alone, et is so weak.” “No matter, let us hear what it is.” “Wull, et jist popped into my head that, mebby, the same one that killed her father has got in his fine work on |. her, with some dark motive behind et all.” “And what do you think that motive could be?” : “Wiull, now that you force my thinker along that line, thar is somethin’ more that comes into my head.” “Out with it, Nate!” “Wull, these hyer Wingate Mines aire wuth a hull heap of money, and if by ther death of the old man and the gal—” “A clew at last!” interrupted Detective Dave. “But, great heavens! It does not seem possible that so beautiful a womap could be such a fiend as that. Ha! what is the matter with you, now, Nate? Has it just burst upon you what you have done?” CHAPTER XXXII. DARING GAME PLAYED. The ex-mayor was staring, almost wildly. “ Great wonders! ” he ejaculated. “ That was the last thing I’d ’a’ thought of, that ther widdy could ’a’ done et. I hadn’t -orter said what I did.” “But, you said it, and we must look it in the face. Do not mention it to an- other soul, but iaaye it to us to investi- gate.’ | “TT have bia tether . hing “ Have you ever seen or heard anythin th t th: Pigeons Nate?” no desire to mention et, boys, at would supp uire dark looks | came over the faces of Grimes and the | | Dave took a lo “T never have, sport.” “And I never have, either,” asserted Kris. “It is a terrible accusation to make.” ; “ And it must not be breathed without something to support it,’’ decided Dave. “We must go very slow about it. But, we must find the young lady.” They were now opposite the hotel, and at that moment saw Mrs. Kenton come hurriedly out, with hat on. A trolley car was at hand, and she signalled it to stop, and got aboard. The car went spinning away up the street. The road was not a long one, by any means, merely conecting one end of the gulch with the other. . Hard Pan straggled from end to end of the gulch, and this system of transit was in great favor among her people, Besides, it was a thing to boast of. The trio watched the car, and present- ly saw it stop at the point nearest the mines, There the fair passenger got out and hastened up the slope. “Ha! going to the mines!” exclaimed Kris. ‘ What can be taking her there, L wonder? I'll bet it has something to do with the case, going at this time.” “You would ’a’ thought she was goin’ crazy, if you had seen her earlier than this,” averred Nate. “She seemed to take it hard, did she?” “She was all cut up, and thar wasn’t no shammin’ about et, my opine.” “Can’t you undertake to find out, Nate,” asked Kris. “ Another car will be going down that way in a few min- utes,” “Tl try et, of course. I kin make my business to the mines to see the mayor, as he has gone thar, and mebby I kin get on to something that is going on.” Nate left them and they crossed to the hotel. Kris led the way up stairs. On the second floor he knocked at a door, but no one answering, he opened it and entered the room, the Denver de- tective following. It was a cool proceed- ing on their part, for the room was Mrs. Kenton’s. Once inside, Kris stopped with his back to the door, while the Denver detective made a tour of inspection, with as much haste as a half-close scrutiny would ad- mit, through the suite of rooms, in the hope of finding some clew for their guid- ance. ~ It was a daring business, but that very daring gave it its security, as the detect- ive had convinced the sport. Detective Dave made*one tour of the rooms in haste. This was a general inspection. The next round he went more slowly, and decided which room had been occupied by Miss Kenton. It did not require a Vidocq to determine that, for Mrs. Kenton’s garments lay — about in her sleeping apartment with little regard for neatness, which her dis- turbed state of mind would account for. In the other room was Miss Kenton’s trunk. J Dave tried its lid, but it was locked, and he could not afford the risk of pry- ing into it, then. 5 Nothing was to be found that excited interest or suspicion, so he returned to the other. “ Anything?” asked Kris. “Nothing,” the answer. “Js there another door leading into the hall?” — “No, this is the only one.” ; “Then it was necessary for her to pass through Mrs. Kenton’s room?” \ “Yes, as you see.” ‘ “What do you think of that?” — ; “Tt may, or may not, be called sig~ nificant.” Bern ied ae Well, come, we must out of here.” “Yes, and the sooner the better, B | be sure the coast is clear.” the door, and Detecti from the window, fro e back. Kris Se anes my Ce OP lah : ye é

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mines, Look here, sport!” Kris looked where he pointed, and was surprised. | Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. is the explanation of the trip to the gave ’em a straight stand-off, you bet! They pumped me, and I let ’em pump me dry. I told ’em that you two wur the | best fellers that Mrs. Brown-Blow had There came Mrs. Kenton, at the head | of the forces from the mines, and all were | coming in the direction of the hotel! What did it mean? No matter, it gave the’ Pard Detectives excellent op- portunity to escape from the room un- noticed, for excitement in the street soon drew all attention. They slipped from the room and down into the bar-room, where they mingled | with the throng, and no one noticed | where they came from. All attention was | upon Mrs. Kenton, and the mine force | which she headed. CHAPTER XXXIII. DAZED BILLY’S BLOW. Mrs. Kenton at once mounting the steps to the piazza, turned and faced the crowd. “Men of the Wingate Mines,” she said, _ in clear tones, “you know why I have brought you here, but I desire that every- body else should know as well. The daughter of your late employer, my hus- band, has mysteriously disappeared from this house, and I want her found within an hour. To the man who will restore her to me within that time I will pay five thousand dollars!” “Hooray!” yelled the men, and there ‘was a general throwing up of hats. ; “I want to urge upon you the import- ance of haste. There has been too much mystery in this little city of the mount- ains of late, and it is time that it came ' to an end,” she added. Ed Sawyer stepped forward from among his men. “May I ask a question or two?” he inquired, lifting his hat. “Yes, but be brief; let the men get to work. What do you want to know?” “Had the young lady an enemy in the camp?” hi “Not to my knowledge. She had not : a single acquaintance when she came } 1 “And there is absolutely no clew?” “ None.” “Then, I fear, you have given the men a task they cannot accomplish. For my part, I do not see what they are going - to do as a beginning.” “They must do something—do sate understand?—something! Let them ever taken in beneath her roof since she’d become a new woman, and they swollered et.” “J can imagine their main concern | was to know whether we were out of the house late last night or not,’ sug- gested Dave. : “ Pxactly so! And, what did I tell ’em? Why, I told ’em that me and Nate and | you two played poker more’n half the | night, and they swollered that, too, all in a chunk.” “Good for you!” exclaimed Kris. “Stand by us, and we’ll stand by you when the time comes.” “ And it’s comin’,” assumed the bum- mer. “ What’s coming?” : “Ther time when I’m going to reas- sume charge of my own shanty.” “Ha! then you are going to strike?” The Pard Detectives were amused, in spite of their serious anxiety for Miss Kenton. “That is jist what I am, you bet!” “Bill Blow! Has anybody seen Bil? Blow?” It was the voice of the amazon, at the door, and she was looking all around the great room. At the very first sound of her voice, Mr. Blow had ducked his head, and he made haste to whisper the request that his presence be concealed. “JT want to find him, that’s all!” de- eclared the woman. him, send him home. The Chinee—Ha! there you are, you vagabond! Why didn’t you answer when I called ye?” Bill had met with a mishap; trying to keep out of sight, the chair suddenly went from under him, and down came Bill, flat on the floor. The woman made for him. “What is the matter, Mrs. Brown- Blow?” demanded Kid-Glove Kris. “ He’ll find out what’s the matter,” she retorted, making a reach for the man under the table. “Keep cool, Mrs. Brown-Blow, keep cool!” advised the culprit, moving fur- ther under the table, out of her reach. “What is all the ’citement about, any- how? Ain’t you havin’ things your own sweet way?” “T want you, you brute! “Never you mind about me, m’dear! out of town by every trail and path, and | never you mind about me; I am all right, keep On until she is found. men enough, besides, to search every inch of the town.” _ §$he seemed wildly in earnest. “Very well; it shall be done,” said Sawyer. “ You have heard the word, men; be off with you, and good luck to a youl Lucky the man who finds the young . } lady and can bring her back within an | ~ hour.” “Suppose it is over an hour, but he _ brings her back all the same?” one man ENO n =? matter, no matter,” cried the wo- “The reward will be the same. he : “thet ouse. i The men broke and seattered, eager to _ win the reward. rel, what think yo now?” asked Kia Glove Kris of his companion. “That she is a born actress, if she is not innocent, ” was the answer, (YS Ba! then you suspect— , 1 am inclined to think her inno- _and thoroughly in earnest.” _ “Hillo, boys! Hyer ye be, hey?” hes. (3 “was Nate Hawkins. He had come a down with the others from the mines, in compan with Billy Blow t do you know?” asked Kris, hin’, exce that Billy performed Saat re he is to speak for 1 em « Then she hurriedly entered | There are | you bet!” “But, I do mind about you. Chop has gone and left me, and you have got to take his place in the kitchen and do the work. Do you hear that?” There was something akin to a bellow, and Bill Blow came out from under the table on the other side, with an expres- sion of countenance hard to describe. He | stared\and blowed, for a moment, and was just on the point of exploding, ‘when a commotion was heard in the street that | drew all attention. ee { CHAPTER XXXIV. DAVE FINDS A CLEW. Everybody in the place made a dash for the doors—even Mrs. Brown-Blow. Men were running from every direction. The Cosmopolitan was on fire, and heavy smoke was issuing from two of the upper windows! “Something new on the programme, Kris?” “Yes, decidedly. What think?” baie take it to be accidental, don’t you?” “Not easy to say, but let’s lend a hand,” proposed Kris, — “Don’t be in a hurry,” cautioned De- tective Dave. “Remember, we are in disguise; also, that we have got work of | another kind to perform.” i “You are right. What do you propose eR , that we do? I am at your commar “There will be a break into t ina few nioments, nee ve “If any of you se@! trunk belonging to Myra. You hear?” | | the crowd to see how Mrs. Kenton is | nothing standing still!” ee, - conducting herself.” The street was packed with people if a few brief minutes. The mayor taking charge, was calling for volunteers to r form a bucket brigade. But, the big hotel was not altogether unprovided with means for coping with fire. It had two tanks on the roof, both . of which were filled with water. ; Kris and Dave, making their way to the side door of the house, entered there. f The guests were out in the halls ant on the stairs, and as the Pard Detectives made their way up the first flight of stairs they. met M:.s3. Kenton coming down. She had an armful of things hastily gathered up, and was calling for some one to save the trunks in her rooms. “ Which are your rooms, ma’m?” asked Dave. t “The first door on the right, toward the front. Save those trunks, and I will reward you, my man.” ee “ All right, we’ll try et, ma’m.” ; The pards ran on. The door was now wide open, and when they entered the first thing to claim their attention was a package.of papers on the floor. The woman had evidently droped it in her flight. = The detective, picking it up, thrust it into his pocket. Into the sleeping-rooms hastened. One trunk stood open. Kid-Glove Kris had gone on into the other room, and was picking up the ae the pards 4 Detective Dave peered into the opeff trunk, and the first thing, almost, to meet his eye was a photograph—the face of one he had seen before! a “Ha! a clew at last!” he joyously spoke. “Now I know that I 4m on the right track, and the end cannot be far distant. But, no time to waste here; [ ; must save the trunk.” ‘> He thrust the photograph into his pocket, with the packet of papers, and closing the lid, swung the trunk up om . a his shoulder and followed Kid-Glove Kris j out into the hall, where the confusion, had grown even greater. ee “Clear the stairs!” cried Kris, in ring- ing. tones. ‘‘Come or go! You can gain Kris pressed on, Detective Dave close behind him. ' Mg The lower hall was_so packed with = people, however, as was the piazza, that it was impossible for them to get through and out. “Clear the way!” Kris shouted again. “You are doing more harm than good) wedged in there. Back out of doors, or = we'll fall all over you with these trunks!” - Pushing right ahead, while speaking, the crowd moved. The jam was broken, at and the pards got out with the trunks, Mrs. Kenton was there on the piazza, — pinned back against one of the posts by the crowd At sight of the trunks, the look of anxiety on her face relaxed. ‘ “Take care of them, my men!” she called out. _ “You bet!” sang out Kid-Glove Kris, keeping up the assumed character. “ We'll sot on ’em, if necessary, ma’m!” - They pushed and shoved their way to the steps, and down, and deposited the trunks on the ground at a safe distance from the hotel, and stood up on them. By this time the bucket brigade had — been formed, and water was passing ~ from hand to hand. The line was forming — through the hall and up the stairs, and — would soon have been of excellent foals Ta ice, but, just then, the proprietor ap- peare1 at one of the top windows. *» The smoke, by the way, had gro in volume during the last minute | *h ee) Hold on, boys, hol on! ” he ‘sh And he had to: hout, indee he crowd | abov Pratt (eg a Pie PFs 6: 4 a . a

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26 Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. see him, and from their elevated positions above the heads of the others, théy shouted to those around them until the attention of the crowd was gained. “No more water needed, boys!” the proprietor bellowed. “We have got the fire under control, now, and have lots of water to spare. I thank you just the same, though, every man of you, and will make it worth your while when I get down there.” Some one proposed a cheer, and it was given with a will. The smoke gradually thinned out, the excitement ceased, the crowd unpacked itself, and people began to move in thefr accustomed ways once more. Then it was learned that the fire had been caused by a man who had fallen asleep with a cigar in his mouth, which had dropped upon a pile of newspapers. CHAPTER XXXV. SOMETHING CONVINCING, When the crowd thinned, Mrs, Kenton made her way to where the Pard De- tectives were guarding the two trunks. They were still standing upon them, but the moment the woman appeared the comrades jumped down in haste. “Beg yer parding,” Kris hastened to say. “I had clean furgotten where I S was at and what I was standin’ on.” ; “Same with me, ma’m,” declared Dave. f, “Will ye have us tote ’em back again ?” “T must first reward you for saving Hi them for me—” “Not a bit, ma’m!” protested Kris. “Et was our dooty, an’ we done et. We would do et again on ther same terms, Bes I opine.” [ “T opine we would, and glad to,” as- sented Dave. “ No reward, ma’m: not a red! Pick up yer trunk, pardner, and we'll land ’em up them ‘ar stairs in no : time, and consider et a honor.” tes The wom n tried to urge money upon them, but, shouldering the trunks again. they marched into the house and up the t _ stairs to her rooms, where they deposited Det, their burdens: “Thar they be, ma’m!” “sound as ary dollar.” “Jist as good as if et hadn’t hap-~ pended,” added Dave. “Glad et was no wuss.” fat “And so am TIT,” averred the woman, earnestly. “If you will not allow me to pay you, you must accept my thanks for the great service. The trunk contained Many valuable papers,” “Don’t mention et, ma’m!” protested Kris. “And if thar is anything more we kin do, you have oniy to tell us.” Dave added. “There is only one other thing, and, oh! if you only could do that! I am nearly crazed over the absence of my dear husband’s daughter, and if you could only restore her to me!” : “We'll try that, too, ma’m, assured aa Kris. : “ Bet yer life,” echoed Dave. | And then, acting as if bashful in a re from Kris; “what to say, they backed out of the room and made their way down to the street. _ At the door they met the mayor. _ “#fello!” he exclaimed. “ Where you - been? ” _ _ “Been to the fire; whar d’ye ’spose?” f responded Kris. “You are around early, for fellows who were up nearly all night.” “Tl bet Nate guv that away!” from _ Dave, looking at Kris. _ruther late, that’s the fact.’” “But we had a pile of fun out of it,” _ asserted Kris. “You had orter been there to taken a hand in, mayor. You _ would got your money’s worth, you bet! The mayor was convinced, His. face ipa hat; and he went on. ‘ sue that paves! ‘icin loubt in na ais apeitied Kri er ; Yes, lady's presence, and as if not knowing | “Yes, we wur up ; , erty. been; but, pard, I begin to see my, way out. I’ve struck a clew!” “No! That is too good news. is the clew?’’ demanded the other. “Like this,” and Dave took the photo- graph from his pocket and gave his com- panion a glimpse of it. “The deuce!” cried Kris. “You recognize the face, then?” What “Of course. The man who was found dead and taken for you.” “ Exactly.” “Where did you get it?” “In Mrs. Kenton’s trunk.” “Great heavens! Then what do you infer?” “T don’t know what to suspect or infer, just yet.” “There can be no doubt about the face; that is out of the question.” “But, Kris, this is not all I found. You saw me pick up some papers on the floor. We must examine them, and see what they reveal, if anything.” They had proceeded on their way as they talked, and went direct to their room at Mrs. Brown-Blow’s. When they had closed the door they put up a shade and drew chairs to the table, to examine the papers. Almost the first one opened was a marriage certificate, setting forth that, on a certain date, one Burk More and Marie Snider had been made man and wife. Detective Dave read it aloud. “What do you think of that?” he de- manded, lovking exultantly at his com- rade. “Do you think it is she?” “The name is the same.” “ And it was found in her possession! ” “The evidence is good so far. _ Now, who was Burk More? Was this the man?” and he held up the photograph. “Suppose it was,” queried Kris, “and suppose that the woman had been mar- ried to him. What then?” “ Then she was not the wife of Thomas Kenton, and has no claim on his estate! But, that is all guess work. We have no knowledge who this fellow was, save that he was a rascal.” The certificate and photograph were laid aside, and the other papers were taken up. The next paper opened was a letter, written in a woman’s hand, and it ran as follows: “ Burk:— “T tell you again that you have got to have patience and give me time. You) will not gain anything by being In a hurry, I warn you. Do not imagine that you can scare me, for you ought to know I am working the game for all it is worth, and in due But, if ng. our I have to play the part of the position I am at present that you cannot do that. time it will come out all right. you push me, you will spoil everyt As to the sport, that is none of business, as things are. in. MARIE.” “Where are we at?” said Dave Cole- man, triumphantly. “Whom does she mean by the sport?” “T hope she does not mean from Kris, me!” “Tt looks that way. By heavens, Kris, here is a terrible evidence against that woman! “Yes, evidence that must be investi- “Tf guilty so gated,” said Kris, grimly. far, she would be equal to—” “To the murder of Thomas Kenton and of removing his daughter, so that she] herself might come in for all the prop- And, much more than that besides, ‘as you can but see,” assumed Dave, in “seeming aiskeer rk tl of the RRoUeS he Stood on. “But, there are “other letters and | fri ) gested his — Besa us CHAPTER XXXVI. DETECTIVE DAVE’S DISCOVERY. These discoveries gave the Pard De- tectives plenty of work to do, but fate was destined to step in and take a hand in the game, and there was a tragedy just ahead which they little anticipated. Even before the working out of the now pretty evident imposture of the as- Kenton; that was the two pards’ greatest concern. The girl could not be found; not the slightest trace of her, not the faintest clew, could be discovered. The active search had been given over, so far as it had concerned the whole town, and Mrs. Kenton was, apparently, in despair. Her face was pale and there was a troubled look in her eyes. No one who saw her face could doubt the sincerity of her anxiety. Two persons there, at Hard Pan, how- ever, could attribute her anxiety to an entirely different cause. Knowing what they did, Kris and Dave could lay it to the discovery of her loss of the important papers and photograph. Shortly after dinner, when they were passing the hotel, they saw her on the piazza, and, seeing them, she signaled them to stop. They did so, touching their hats. “Tell me,” she said, eagerly, “ have you been able to learn anything about Miss Kenton?” “Not a thing, ma’m,” answered Kris, sadly. “Et is too bad, but et is a case that would puzzle even old Solomon, [ opine.” “Yes, I begin to think Heaven help the poor child, wherever she may be. Do not give up, my good men, but do all in your power to aid in solving the mystery.” “You kin rely on that, ma’m,” Dave. And they passed on. “1 was afraid she would inquire about assured or not.” “No fear of that, which convinces me that she and Marie More are one and the same.” “Must confess I don’t see any proof of that.” “Why, to ask about them would be proof that she is the loser, and if she. makes no mention about such a loss, she will have some ground for denying the ae if they come to light.” “T see; it is a fair inference.” oh But, “her worried face shows some- thing. 4 Yes, either honest concern for Myra or dread for her own safety. But, I can’t think her guilty—really, I can’t.” “Well, I hope she is not, but there away, if that man was Burk More.” “Which brings us back to business. We must get into our other disguises, and see what is to be learned.” Dave. “Bring that to a head as soon as clew to her whereabouts, even if it does not bring a confession from the guilty, one.” required changes, and, ere long, they were in entirely different. make-up. The afternoon wore along, and wane when, asif by a sudden inspiration, was thinking moodily over the sit all by himself, Dave exclaime se Bey in the world didn’ a? Uncle Josh! so myself. the papers, whether we had seen them ~ will be a good deal for her to explain fi separate, and start inquiry about him r) “There is one thing more important 6 than that—the discovery of Myra; but, I _ am inclined now to believe that ‘the — quickest way to find her is to bend all © our energies to the other matter,” avowed possible, for I now feel it may give us a. They parted company, to make their ¢ wh sumed widow was the finding of Myra - SS w ti

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i ee” oe cr Ww Cre. A 2 Ne Owe OF we Ww aie cr a ee eee Sy Ow oe * once, for I must talk with you. _Aigcovered. Tell me where she is,” ~hyer is the first time I ever knowed ye ae to seonert beauty in distress, Kid-Glove to meet it. The stage came on-and stopped at its | usual place before the Cosmopolitan, and its complement of passengers alighted. There were none with whom we have concern, and after the mail had been | put out and the baggage taken down, Uncle Josh drove around to the stables | to put up his team. Detective Dave sauntered around in that direction. Uncle Josh was not engaged there very | long, and when he started away the/| Denver Detective accosted him. “Hold on a minute, Uncle. Josh,” he said. The driver turned ard looked at him, | trying hard to recognize him. ‘ “Wull, what is et?” he asked. “I thort I knowed yer voice, but blame me ef I know yer face.” “No matter, I wanted to ask you if you knew anything whatever about that young lady you brought here yesterday, | Miss Kenton. She is missing, and on not be found.” _ “Thunderation! Now I know ye, boy. Put et thar! Do I know anything about that purty gal, hey? Wull, now, I ain’t supposed ter know anything, but seein’ it’s you, jist read this hyer leetle note what I was told to hand to ye, if I fell in with ye.” CHAPTER XXXVII. : HONOR BOUND. Detective Dave was agreeably prised. This was more than he had dared to hope for, in the way of success. He knew that he was mistaken for ‘Kid-Glove Kris, but he could not stop to explain in a moment. He was too eager to learn something of the young woman with whom he had fallen in love, and as the note was not sealed, he opened it immediately and read it, Even as he did so, he thought that it ‘was something that Kid-Glove Kris would have done himself, under like cir- cumstances, and it would be easy for him to explain it to the sport when they met. .He wanted to deal honorably with atk pard, according to their compact. The missive ran as follows: “Mr, Dursey: “If you receive this, come to me at You will ‘be told where to find me. Do not delay, for I have a terrible suspicion and need the aid of some one whom I can trust im- citly, and your face has convinced me I can trust you. I know that you sur- leat are innocent of the crime that has been as laid to your charge. Myra Kenton.” “Thank God, she is alive!” were his Ra, words, | “Yes, alive and kickin’, but in a tur- ble state of mind, or was this mornin’.” “ Where is she?” “" o Then she ain’t been found? But, ye | fe) Faro “No, no, there has been no trace of her “You come right with me, pard, and I ll take ye to her in a jiffy. She Trost half wild by this time, if. she has had i eep out of sight all day. . No, no, I can’t go with you, old man.” “ce e can’t g0? ” “ No. Pak am—” “ What’s ther reason ye can’t go? This | here is just the point, old man, I not Kid-Glove Kris—” aleve Kris!” e near to hear them. hunderation aire ye? t the | trip, and rage eoigny made was t { : her, and wh per, which his good wife | Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. had been meditating, and hastened down | “But, who aire ye?” “The man who has been taken for Kid-Glove Kris.” ““And who the blazes is that?” “Tam not at liberty to tell, at present. | I will go and make a search for the sport, and will send him to your house imme- | diately.” “Wull, durn et, it is enough to turn a man’s head, take et all together, and I wonder that this hyer camp ain’t a plum gone bedlam, by this time, with so much mystery around.” “It is soon going to be straightened out, now.” “Wull, I should hope so.” “Where do you live?” “Kris knows that all right.” “And I want to know, too, in case I can’t find him.” “Sure enough. Et’s that shanty over thar, jist tother side of them two jist alike, ‘ “All right. Tell Miss Kenton that her note will be in the hands of Kid-Glove Kris inside of an hour, if he can be found. If not, I will come in his stead.” With that, Dave turned and walked hastily away. His mind was in a confused state. The emotions of his heart’might be said to be the same. It was a test of his honor, for he well knew, or believed, that the first one to see Miss Kenton and talk with her would be the fortunate man, all provided that she was heart whole and fancy free. How easy it would have been for him to have gone home with the stage driver, heard the girl’s story, and taken ad- vantage of the opportunity to have de- clared who he was. That, possibly, would have given him the advantage over Kris, but he was not so lost.to honor. No, he must find Kid-Glove Kris. He went back up the main street, keep- ing his eyes well about him. At last he espied the sport, recogniz- ing him by knowing what disguise to expect to find him wearing. Dave gave a signal that had been agreed upon, and Kris followed him into the Metropolitan, where they teok seats at a table in order to have a few min- utes’ chat. : “What is it?” Kris asked. “Read that,” said Dave, handing him the note, ; » This the sport did, eagerly enough. “Where did you get it?” he asked. “Where is she? Have you seen her? Tell me all, pard.” “ Egotatte ‘from Uncle Josh. She is at his house. He mistook me for you, and so it came about. No, I have not seen her; the note was addressed to you, not me.” Their eyes met. “J understand,” said Kris, extending | his hand across the table. ‘“ You are keepin’ your part of our agreement, pard, and I won’t forget to keep mine. I will go and see her at once.” “And you will let me know what she discloses? ” “To the last word, Coleman,” “Good enough. Would it be asking too much to request that you tell her, in strict confidence, who I am, and that I am on the case with all my heart and— soul?” I think she should know that, don’t you?” ; in their eyes met, honest eyes that knew no wavering. “Yes, I do,” said Kris. tell you ‘that Sant They clasped hi | ‘once ag in, | Kris rose and left ee he room haste, making his gine atralght,to Un di Josh’s humbie domicile. The old driver was just eating his ey ready for him when he came in from. cannot honorably go and see her, but I} kin be,” | will hunt up Dursey at once.” “y will tell | — whatever her. answer is I wi la manner of disguise is hé int that he is the man who rae taken for you so often?” ays _ |“ He is the man.” ay said the old man, “ but he has got a white soul, I’m bettin’.” “Why do you say that, Uncle Josh?’ the sport asked. ““T have my reasons, boy.” Kris did not press the point. “Where is the young lady?” he in- quired. “She is right here in the parlor, sir,” said the old driver’s wife. She indicated with a wave of the hand ' the door of the best room of the three, giving it that dignified name. “Will ycu ask her if. I may see her now?” “No need to ask her, she has looked her eyes sore for ye this whole day. Come right this way, if ye please.” ' The woman crossed the big living room and opened the door of the room indi- cated, Kris following her and entering just behind her, walking as if entering - a sacred place. “Here is the man at last, miss,” she said. ‘This is Kid-Glove Kris, the sport.” She waved an awkward introduction, and hastily withdrew. Kris saw Myra on a chair near a win- dow. The room was not very light, the win- dows being small and the shades of night beginning to hover. ““You are Mr. Dursey?” a sweet voice asked. “Yes, I am he,” said the sport. “I only just now got your note.” ““T supposed Uncle Josh failed to see you before he went away, and I have “been patiently waiting for him to find you after his return.” “Well, what is it, Miss Kenton. Why did you leave the hotel in that mysterious way, and cause your friends so much anxiety on your account? The place has been upset all day.” “ My friends?” she said sadly. are they?” “ Who “You have many here—I am one, if a you will allow me to say it.” “T thank you,” shesaid, and her gaze dropped to her lap. “ There is one favor IL want to ask of you, and now that I know you are my friend I know I may not — hesitate. Will you not take the place of that detective who lost his life, and try to solve these mysteries? ” * “YT would, willingly,” said Kris, “ put the fact of the matter is, Miss Kenton, he is here alive and well, and is manag- ing the thing himself, with every pros- pect of bringing it to a termination very shortly. Iam helping him, however, and together we hope that this interview with you will give us something to eS te nen. What can you tell us?” CHAPTER XXXVIII. WHAT MYRA KNEW. The girl had now lifted her eyes, and ‘ was looking into Kris’s own. He had taken a seat close to her, upon her invitation, and he could hardly Te sist the temptation to touch her hand. “You say he is alive?” she said, i citedly. “Yes, he is ative: unknown.” “ But, how, then, came he by the Tet ters and papers that were found in his pockets? There is more mystery than ever, I believe.” * Kris. cea gate i she point as known to the reader. ne aE “Who, then was that man?” meg Yoleman But, where is Mr. _ “Mercy! ho “Tt The man who was found dead was not he, but some — - rT

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Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. desire to know you from him—here, wear this ring.” Of a sudden, as if acting upon an in- stant’s impulse, she drew a ring from her middle finger and handed it to him, and he slipped it onto the little finger of his left hand. “You must have a strong reason for j wanting to know me at any time,” he } said. “No matter about that. A glance at your hand will tell me whether it is you or Mr. Coleman. Now, for the object I had in sending for you.” “Yes yes, that is the all important matter, nov.” “T want you to protect me.” “Protect you?” “ Yes.” vy “ Against whom?” “My father’s widow.” “Great heavens! you don’t look for : danger from her?” if “Yes, I do. I might think Iam wrong- ( ing her, had it not been for that look \ on her face—” She shuddered as she recalled it. q “What do you refer to?” asked Kris. i “Tell me all about it.” ; “She was out late last night, at an \ hour when no good woman would be out, alone—” re “Yes, I know, I know.” ! “Then it was you she went to meet?” “No, no, I swear it was not I; but I h heard it from some one who saw her.” Ny “Then it was Coleman, and she mis- took him for you. Do not try to deny it, for I know that much of the matter. Why should she desire to meet you at that hour?” Kris was in a tight place, and knew not what to answer. ; *‘T know the reason,” the girl went on, ‘ after a momentary pause. “It was be- Fs cause she loves you, and loving you, she more, after that, but retired, and for once she forgot to embrace me. She had been so loving from the very first that it sur- prised me. I did not lie down at once, and presently was tempted to look at her from my room—from behind the door, as I will confess; and the look that I saw on her face fairly chilled me to the bone. I thought for the instant that I would cry out, but I did not, and while I looked I saw her shake her fist in the direction of my room.” Kid-Glove Kris was an attentive listen- er, and no wonder. “Well, I could not go to sleep. I lay there on the bed, trembling with fright, till at last her heavy breathing told me that she was asleep, when, after waiting long enough to make sure that she must be sound asleep, I rose and began to dress myself, resolved upon seeking shel- ter somewhere else. This was the only place I knew of, Uncle Josh having pointed out his house to me as we were coming into town, and I made up my mind to steal out of the room and come here secretly and ask for shelter and protection. And that was not all, for, while I was getting ready, the very worst of all happened.” “What was that?” asked Kris. “Why, she cried out in her sleep, ‘ Do not ask mercy of me!’ she cried. ‘I will have your heart’s blood!’ Oh! how her words ring in my ears. ‘I have no love for you, and if I ever said so it was mockery. I hate you! I despise you! There! lie there and die like the dog that you are!’ Oh! it was terrible. Can you wonder that I made haste to get away from her?” “Not at all,” said Kris. pluck of the right sort.” “Well, I waited till she had become quiet and her breathing had grown reg- ular again, and then I stole out of the rooms and out of the house, and came here, where I was taken in by these good people, who promised not to reveal my presence to a living soul.” “You had » was false to my poor father—I do not dare think worse of her than that; God iM knows that is bad enough. Now, I want Key to ask a question.” Ppt eae are “And what do you think of it all?” “ 8 “Nias ie her? “Great heavens! what else can I think? ” “Than what?” “Than that she herself killed my fath- er, and would have killed me, had I not escaped her. God forgive me if I wrong her, but the thought is fixed in my mind and I cannot force it out.” “What would be her motive?” ‘ “Why, to come in for all the property herself, with the idea in mind of win- ning you—I am sure that was a part of the scheme. I am a woman, and I can read her heart far enough to make out “Do you care anything for her?” “No more than I care for any chance woman acquaintance, I assure you.” “Then you are in danger, deadly dan- , ger. I must tell you, even though mod- : esty might forbid. She is jealous of you, if you know what that implies.” “Jealous of me?” “Yes, jealous of you.” ie “In what direction, pray.” “4 “There is no use hiding it, she is jeal- ous of you because of me— As I said, I _-‘Maust tell you, no matter what the cost to myself.” that much. If you do not love her, she a “Yes, tell me, for I dare not ask a| Madly adores you.” ; ht question.” Myra Kenton spoke earnestly and with a “She knew that I believed you inno- | intensity of emotion. Be «ent, because your face seemed to tell | _.“ And what do you desire me to do? Kris asked. “You do not want her arrested? You do not want to make such a charge—” “No, no, I could never do that. Be- sides, I have no proof, you see, even if ‘my suspicion is right. No, I wanted you to take Mr. Coleman’s place and ferret out the mystery of it all.” “Well, he is here to do that for you, and he will be glad enough to learn what you have told me, for it will bear out some suspicions that he has already formed concerning her. By the way, did you ever see a photograph that she had in her trunk?” / “No, I never saw her trunk open.” “Well, did you ever hear her mention the name of Burk More—” “Ha!” as she sprang suddenly to her feet, “that’s the name! She speke a ‘me you were, and I confessed to her that | ‘I had an interest in you—and—and she q took a stronger meaning out of it, is all P dcan say,” * “ And she threatened you?” : __, “Listen, I will tell you all. She was- out last night, as I said, and as you knew. When she came in I was up, wondering where she could be, At first she was surprised, but she made light of _ it and tried to allay my suspicions, but ‘somehow she Sepeared to me to be too Joving. “We talked about Mr. Coleman—or, _ that is to say, the man who was found dead and taken for him. I made the suggestion that perhaps it was not he, | and the look on her face for a single flashing instant chilled me. “Not he!’ she cried. And then she demanded my Treason for thinking so, which I gave er, because the man’s face had not 2 eased me, and I could not think of Mr. ; Coleman as such a looking man. es nee a al and: ‘ oe been Paes. all peated. once again, and I am goin’ to wear ’em, henceforth and forever, or know the reason why, b’gosh! as free as she wants to, jist as free as the air, but she has got to be jist a wo- man, and nothin’ more, ef she wants to put up in,this ranch.” git help. read, no doubt. a, “Then you will never be seen at all, Sens Susan Blow, you kin bet your sweet x name, when she was talking ‘so wildly in | life on that,” said Billy. _ to direct and me to follow, we may be able to bring the mystery to a termina- tion in a short time.” CHAPTER XXXIX. BILLY BLOW BLOWS HARD. They talked on for a few minutes, and Kid-Glove Kris took leave. He was almost overcome by what he had heard, and his mind was in a whirl with it all. His emotions were something that he could not have described, even had he beer called on to do so. His love for the young woman had increased. It had been arranged that he should meet Coleman at supper, and so he made haste to change his disguise and go to Mrs. Brown-Blow’s hospitable domicile, once more as Ben Gibson. They were eating supper when he en- tered. “ Hillo!” he exclaimed. ‘“ Hard at et, aire ye, and waitin’ fur me, I see,” “Ye won’t see much, ef ye don’t git to yer place and git yer knife and fork in motion,” said his supposed brother. The sport took his place and fell to, and presently he noticed that the land- lady herself was absent from her ac- cumstomed place at the board, and he asked where she was. Immediately the whole company burst out laughing. “ What’s ter matter?” queried Ben, looking from one to another in a ques- tioning way. “ What’s in a little ques- tion like that?” “She ain’t Mrs. Brown-Blow any long- er,” spoke up his supposed brother. “She is simply Mrs. Bill Blow now, and she is in the kitchen in proper attire doing the cooking.” “Ts it possible! ” “Bet yer life et’s possible,” chimed in another voice, at that moment, as into the room stalked Bill Blow, as big as life, if net a little bigger. He was in whole attire, looked clean and spruce, and a pair of big guns bristled in his belt. He had on new boots, with his new jean trousers stuffed inside of them, and a new red shirt. He looked the typical miner on a Sun- day. “Yes, sir-ee, bet yer life et is!”’ he re- “T have put on ther breeches Mrs. Blow kin be “ Bill!” from the* kitchen. ; “That’s her,” said Billy, with a , jerk of his thumb in that direction. “ Bill Blow!” “That’s me, that’s my name, and not a bit ashamed of et,” Billy called out. “What is et you want, Mrs. Bill Blow?” “Here’s these taters, ready fur the table.” “Well, tote ’em in, Mrs. Blow.” “You jist come and git ’em.” “Nary a come. I am not playin’ wait- er, though I will help ye out till ye kin Tote ’em in.” “TJ. can’t do it, and you know it, with nothin’ to wear—” “Hold on thar, Mrs. Blow, hold on thar,” Billy interrupted. “ You have got on 2 dress, and it’s hull and clean; what more d’ye want?” * And do you think I will be seen in a dress? Do you think I will show my- self in this badge of servitude and serf- | dom?” quoting from some paper she hag: is “ No, sir! ” = “ Where are the bloomers?” asked Kris. “Gone up ther flume,” said. sae with

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ee ee pS ead ie = we ees Pa ae eee put up his guns. _ Susan: No eye ite 1 ae. 8 i. i ~ “Wull, when I got home Mrs. Blow was in ther kitchen doin’ things up, and she had put on a dress to save ther bloomers from gittin’ spotted, and I took a sneak around fur that bloomer ward- robe, and I found it. In jist about two mighty minutes every cussed pair of bloomers had gone up in smoke!” They had to laugh at his droll way of telling it. “T had been keepin’ straight all day, havin’ made up my mind, ye see, and I sneaked out and kept out ov sight till | : : | and there was a glow of genuine happi- it was comin’ nigh feed time, when I kem rollin’ home and found Mrs. Blow runnin’ around wuss’n a hen with her | * head off, lookin’ fur them bloomers, and then I took charge of ther ranch, in the name of the law and Bill Blow, and | hyer I be.” “And ashamed you had orter be to own to it!” cried a voice at the door, and there was Mrs. Blow. Only her head was visible, however. “ Proudest day of my life,” cried Billy. | “Made a man of made a woman of you— Ha! ha! ha!” “I want you . Blow—’” “And I expect to understand, Mrs. Bill Blow. And so will you, by the time this thing is settled. I am master here once more, and you are the master’s wife, see? ”’ “Would you make me a slave?” “Not at all, not at all. As I said before, you kin be jist as free as ther little chicky-dees that sing in ther trees, but you have got to be a woman or you have got to git out. No more fool busi- ness about this ranch, or there will be trouble.” Some one asked for potatoes. Taking the cue, another asked, and ' there was a clamor for potatoes. “Mrs. Blow, d’ye hear?” called out Billy. “T hear nothin’,” came back the retort from a distant quarter of the kitchen, Mrs. Blow having beaten a retreat from * the door. “Tote in them taters!” “Tf you want taters, you kin jist tote "em yerself, Bill Blow.” “JT kin, hey? We'll see about that,” * and Billy jerked the two formidable guns out of his belt. ‘This hyer question might jist as well be settled first as last.” He made a dash for the kitchen,. as if in pursuit of a desperado. There were some quick, sharp words, a feminine protest or two, and then éteps in hasty approach. Into the dining-room marched Mrs. Blow, arrayed in a fresh gingham gown and apron, bearing a platter of potato balls, her face very red, and Bill coming . behind with the nose of a gun On the i, back of her neck. are Gentlemen, "low me to interdoose my wife,” said Bill, with positiveness. Mrs. Blow deposited the platter not - gently on the board. “Can it be possible?” said Kid-Glove Kris. “Mrs. Blow, you look charming!” ex- claimed Detective Dave, rising and offer- ing her his hand. “If there is anything in this world I admire, it is a womanly -- Woman. Believe me, you look superb!” _4Jn—in these things?” she gasped. “That other garb was a disgrace to our sex, madam, on my honor,” said ave. ' “That's right, ma’m,” agreed Kid- by: Glove Kris, to remind Dave of his as- _Sumed character. “You look twice as goths in this hyer dress as what ye did hem other toggeries.” 4+he word having been passed among €m, all the others at the table ex- 4 _ Pressed the same sentiment, and Mrs. Pg Blow looked pleased. s7e nat is jist what I say,” declared “T am y to strike a bargain with ye, San _™More bloomers and no more oe Oman foolery on your part, and ae Coze on mine. What d’ye say? ~*~ to understand, Bill | myself to-day, and | | loud knock at the door. SS eee ee Kid-Glove Kris, the Sport. 29 T’ll go to work like a man soon’s I kin hit a job.” The womanly heart was touched, and tears appeared in her eyes. “It’s a bargain, Bill. I was gittin’ ruther tired of it, honest, but I was too proud to give in.” “Put et thar, Susan!” cried Billy, offering his hand. ‘“ We'll begin busi- ness over again under the old name, and ef we don’t more’n make things hum you kin kick me fur a sick cat!” Bill embraced his wife and kissed her, ness on the woman’s face that had not been seen there in many a day. Attention was drawn from them by a Immediately following, the door opened and into the room trooped some half a score of men with guns drawn. Mrs. Blow screamed, at sight of them, and all at the table leaped to their feet, reaching to their hips, but they were covered immediately and ordered to de- | sist. The leader of the band was Sheriff Hickey in person. | He advanced straight to the pretending Gibson brothers, looking first at one and then the other, and demanded: “Which one of you two is Kid-Glove Kris, the sport? ” “Tf you think either, sir, suppose you decide for yourself,” said Detective Dave, CHAPTER XL. THE LOST ONE FOUND. The beginning of the end was at hand. The Pledged Pards looked at each other, and seemed to understand. They were covered by too many guns to think of offering to resist the arrest by force. The sheriff and his men looked from one to the other of the pair, and were unable to settle the question to their sat- isfaction. “Off with your disguises!’ command- ed the sheriff. ; It would have been only a _ useless waste of time to have parleyed about it. The Pard Detectives removed their false hair and beards, and there they stood, two men so nearly alike that their iden- tity was more of a puzzle than ever. “ Well, which is your man?” demanded Kid-Glove Kris. “That is what I want to know,” avowed the sheriff. “You had better own up; fair warning!” “You will probably agree that there cannot be two Kid-Glove Krises,’” sug- gested Dave. “It is for you to decide which is your man, and take him.” “By heavens! I’ll take you both; then there can be no mistake!” j “Tt would be the mistake of your life,” warned Kris. “ How is that, confound you?” “One of us is not Kid-Glove Kris.” “Then it is for you to say which one is.” “This thing may as well end. I am Kid-Glove Kris, sheriff! ” acknowledged the sport. “What proof have I of it, when you both look so alike?” “You have my word for it, here in the presence of these witnesses.” “Then you are my prisoner. [ warn you not to make an attempt to get away, or it may cost you your life, and I would deplore that.” “T am not a fool, sheriff.” “Sheriff,” now spoke up Detective Dave, “you are arresting an innocent man.” A “So he has said, but can he prove it?” “Tf he cannot, I can!” “e How? ” “ By producing the guilty person!” “The deuce you say! Who the mis- chief are you, then?” “T am David Coleman, the detective supposed to have been killed by some person unknown!” “Tg it possible!” “Tt is. positive.” “ And who is the guilty one?” “Mrs. Marie Kenton!” “Good God! You don’t mean to say you can prove that?” } “T do, and can!” Consternation was depicted on every face. “Then why have you not her?” the sheriff demanded. ‘Because I had not worked the case quite out to my satisfaction. Some links are wanting.” “Ha! I thought so. And I guess they will always be wanting, too, if you think to fasten the crime upon that woman. It is terrible!” “It is fastened upon her already, to my satisfaction,” asserted Dave. “I ad- mit that my proof is not positive, but it is more than enough to warrant her ar- rest.” 5 “Then you intend to arrest her?” “T do, certainly.” *“ When?” ‘ “At once. Now that you have called the game, hands may as well be shown all around.” “ Well, if that is your intent—” “Tt is my next step.” * Then let us be about it, and have the disagreeable matter over with. In my office as sheriff, I have only to see that the proper person is secured, and if she is the guilty one, so be it.” “And what: about me?” asked Kris. “You are under arrest.” “But I want to see this thing out. You have no proof that I am guilty of that crime, while here is a detective who assures you that I am innocent.” “Well?” “ Release me, and let me go with you. You may appoint two men to keep their | eyes on me, if you want to.” “The fact of the matter is, you have no business to be under arrest, after the assurance I have given that I know the guilty one is another person,’ as- sumed Coleman. “T am an officer of the county, sir,” re- turned the sheriff, “and I have my ideas about that.” “ And I,” reminded Dave, “am an offi- cer of the State.” “Well, we will let the matter stand as it is,” decided the sheriff. “I will parole the prisoner for the present, until we see what comes of the charge you are about to bring against that woman.” “That is satisfactory.” “ And when will you make the arrest?”* “Now, at once.” es Dave reached for his hat, the others from the table doing the same, and they all filed out of the house, leaving Mrs. Biow wringing her hands and crying very like a woman of the old-fashioned type. It was by this time growing dark. The — electric lights were flashing, and the sparks of the trolley cars were seen as they moved up and down the gulch. The sheriff, acting upon information he had received, had gone to the house quietly, with his men, and the people knew nothing as yet of what had taken place. They went quietly to the hotel, and took their places on the piazza, as if / merely stopping there casually. $A A consultation there was held, and it was determined to leave the management of it all to the detective. a The sheriff and his men were to aid him in carrying out his plans, and first direction he gave was that Kenton should be brought to the as a beginning. me “Miss Kenton?” exclaimed the sh “ Yes.” » ed r f “Where is she, then?” ) i) A” “At the house of Uncle Josh.” | A few words of explanation had to be But “Soo fochinehet ome with ‘ arrested

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30 Kid-Glove Kris, the “TI can fix that,” spoxe up Kid-Glove Kris. ‘‘Hand her this ring,” removing from his finger the ring Myra had given him, “and tell her to come here at once.” “Tell ber that you desire her to come?” “Yes. Tell her that I want her to come here, and send this ring as proof of it.” “And Uncle Josh and his wife with her,’”’ added Dave.” “ All right.” “Then, when you come, a shout will be raised that the lost young lady has been found, and that will draw such a crowd as we desire to witness our de- nouement,”’ “You seem positive that you are yight, young man.” “There can be scarcely a doubt of it, sheriff. It will rest with the woman to prove me in the wrong. The sheriff in person set off for Uncle Josh’s house, and the others awaited his return with somewhat of impatience, By this time, too, people passing had begun to. notice that something was on foot, and the nucleus of a crowd was be- ginning to form in front of the piazza to learn what it meant. The sheriff had no trouble in inducing Myra to come with him. The ring and the word from Kid-Glove Kris were suffi- cient, and she made all haste to obey the Summons. The reader has been privi- leged to know the motives by which she was actuated. She was soon ready, and set forth un- der the sheriff’s escort, accompanied by Uncle Josh and his wife, and as they drew near to the hotel a great cheer arose and the word was shouted that the missing lady had been found, that Myra Kenton had been discovered! Men and women came running from every direction, and by the time the sheriff reached the piazza the street was packed. CHAPTER XLI. DENOUEMENT AND CONFUSION. Just as Myra mounted the steps, Mrs. Kenton came running out upon the piazza. She had heard the shouting, and had seen Myra’s approach from the windows of her room, and came down in haste to greet her and show her glad welcome and her rejoicing. “My dear, my darling!” she cried, rushing toward Myra with open arms to embrace her. Myra had just reached the top step. “No! no! Keep away!” So cried the young lady, taking the last step to the piazza and recoiling from the woman with horror depicted on her face. “Do not touch me, she commanded, waving Marie away with both hands. The woman stopped short, her face grow- ing like death in whiteness and her eyes dilating wildly. “What do you mean?” she gasped. “What has come over you, Myra, dear? You are not in your right mind.” “Murderess! ” cried Myra. “ You killed my father, and you would—” “It is false, false!” the screamed, Sheriff Hickey and Detective Dave were stepping toward her, but quicker than a flash she drew a pistol from her pocket and sprang back against the wall, on the defensive! “Back!” she cried, her eyes flashing. “Back! every man of you! I will drop the first one of you who comes nearer than you are this minute! ” They recoiled before her, for it was clear that she was in dead earnest— ready to shoot. The chance had been missed, as they now saw. They should have taken her at once, on her appearance. She was now despe-ate and on guard. “Who dares to say that I murdered my woman Sport. husband?” she demanded. “I say it is false, and I demand the proof, if any can be produced. That girl 1s crazy; her leaving the house last night is proof OG iE 4 “Her leaving the house was proof cf her sanity and good judgment, the rath- er, madame.” It was Detective Dave who spoke. She looked at him, and from him to Kid-Glove Kris, and back again. “Who are you?” she cried. “ Why are you against me? In heaven’s name, is ho one here my friend?” “Yes, I am your friend, to the last,” spoke up Mayor Grimes, who had just pushed his way to the front. ‘“ Some- body shall suffer for this outrage, fair warning.’ “Thank heaven there is oné who will believe me!” “Do you say that you did not kill your husband, Thomas Kenton, madame,” asked Detective Dave, “Of course I say it—I swear it! Do I look like a muderess? What has led to this terrible suspicion? I demand to know what proof is against me.” “Were you Thomas Kenton’s wife?” The woman seemed ready to drop to the floor, but she mustered her nerye to face the emergency. “My God! must insult be added to in- jury?” she gasped. “This is too much, by thunder! ” roared Mayor Grimes. “Young man, you had better take back those words, mighty quick!” E “And you had better not make your- self too prominent in the matter before you see my hand, sir,’ warned Dave. “My question has not been answered, madame! ” He was looking her in the eyes, and she had partly lowered her pistol in her dismay. With a sudden leap he was upon her, and the weapon was out of her hand. “A dangerous toy, madame,” he sug- gested, quietly. He put it in his pocket. She made a move as if to spring at him, but she stopped and leaned against the wall. “Well for you that you took it away from me,” she uttered. “T thought so,” rejoined Dave. There was a moment of terrible sus- pense then during which no one said a word “ Answer my question when you are ready, madame,” the detective coolly urged. ‘‘ We have got to probe the wound to the core, now that it has been opened.” “ What was your question?” She was breathing hard, and looked like a gazelle at bay, with her peerless eyes full of alarm. “Were you Thomas Kenton’s legal wife?” He had added a word to the question —the word “ legal.” She was rendered speechless, and her face told its own story. He had struck the spot. “You see, gentlemen, she cannot say that she was,” explained the detective. “The fact is, she was not, but was the wife of another.” | ° She was whipped into desperation, “Tt.is. a lie, a damnable lie!” she screamed. ‘“ Who dares to say that I was not his wife?” “TI say it, and I am prepared to prove it, madame,” averred Dave Coleman. “You can’t! I defy you to prove such a thing.” “What was your maiden name?” “Tt was More.” “What was Burk More to you, then?” “He was my brother. What are you coming at, anyhow, sir?” “T am coming. at the truth. Is it not remarkable that you did net recognize your brother, then, when he was brought here dead and was supposed to be David Coleman? ” She was staggered. “And, if your name was More, how came you to wed Mr. Kenton under the name of Burke? ” She trembled violently. “No; your maiden name was Snider,” the detective went on, “and you were the wife of Burk More, And, hs he died so recently, you were not the legal wife of Thomas Kenton.” She was past defending herself now. “You married Thomas Kenton when you were already bound to another, but you did not love him. You came to love one Kid-Glove Kris, and in order to win him you murdered your husband, and you had it in your heart to murder his daughter as well, fearing that she might rob you—” “Stop! For God’s sake stop!” the wo- man cried out, “What have you to say?” “Tt is false, false! I did not kin my husband! It was Burk did that; I had nothing to do with it.” The crowd had recoiled from her, now, seeing that she was guilty in some meas- ure, and all were horrified. The street was jammed with people, and a dead silence reigned. “You admit, then, that he was your husband? ” She was silent. “And if he killed your husband—rath- ‘er, Mr. Kenton—then it was you killed him, taking his own papers from his pocket and leaving mine on his person so that he would be taken for me.” Her head was bowed lower. Rapidly, then, the detective reviewed the matter, as he knew it, and as it has thus far been made plain to the reader, telling all about Myra Kenton’s discoy- ery and her reasons for leaving the hotel so mysteriously, and all about his own later discoveries. The crowd hung eagerly words, f Finally the woman could stand no more, and wringing her hands she im- plored him to stop. “Tt is true! it is true!” she cried. “TI can no longer defend myself, but I can at least tell the whole truth and not bear all the shame. But, keep back and give me room to speak.” As if with a new lease of strength and courage, she advanced to the top of the steps, and room was made for her, “Tt is true, all true!’ she repeated, “but I am guiltless of the murder of Thomas Kenton. You must hear my story and my confession, and then con- demn me if you will.” And she was about to begin, when a loud voice inter- rupted and there was a scene of confu- sion. “Hold on!” the voice shouted. “I forbid it! This woman is not on trial here! She is excited and knows not what she is saying!” And along the piazza ran Lawyer Dougherty, waving his arms frantically. ‘Lead her into the house, Mayor Grimes, and see that she is not further harassed. It will be time enough for all this when the case comes to trial. This is a dis- grace!’” The mayor also appeared, having been absent for a few moments. The strong-nerved detective saw through the game and moved to check- mate it promptly. He shoved the lawyer back, and ex- citement reigned. upon his CHAPTER XLII. TRAGIC ENDING, Detective Dave Coleman saw a scheme on the part of the mayor to spirit the guilty woman away. Fascinated by her, he was willing to do this, but, as said, his game was blocked. At the moment that Dave pushed the lawyer back, Kris intercepted the mayor. The sheriff was ready to. detain. the

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‘himself made the terrible proposal that we would together have control of the Mr. Kenton of my love for him. K leave the In the oman, if she attempted to \\Viazza, but she did not try it. homent of confusion, however, Myra fenton fainted, and it was some mo- 1ents before she came to and was able pb stand. * ‘ “You need have no fear of my running hway,” Marie said, meantime. “I am. nere to stay.” “Go on with your confession,” ordered |the sheriff. | | ’ , “My maiden name was Marie Snider,” ishe resumed. “I married Burk More, | but I soon tired of him, for he was a 'brute. He was lazy, besides, and we | were poor, except when he happened to rob some one on the highway—for he | was not averse to that business. “He dragged me down and down. I |} might have been an honest woman and a good wife if I hadi had a husband to | look up to; but I hadn’t. Finally, he ‘I should come here, win and marry Mr. Kenton, and so get a hold upon his wealth. And I, eager to escape from him, agreed to the proposition. “JT did not know until too late that his plan was to murder Mr. Kenton, when | he would have me re-marry him and minés. I am sure that he did not know there was a daughter in the field. I never knew it myself, until she came here. I suspect that Mr. Kenton was not proud of me, and was ashamed to tell his daughter that he had married, Be that as it may, there was the fact. “JT did not love him, but I had escaped | from Burk More. Then came my fate, when I ‘met Kid-Glove Kris. I loved him at sight, and could not help the imprudence of meeting him. ton learned of it, and forbade it. He and Kris had a quarrel, and then Mr. Kenton was murdered. But, it was not Kid-Glove Kris who did it, nor was it I; it was Burk More. He had grown jeal- | ous of Kris, knowing even more than Burk i was seeking his life, too. | “T knew who had killed my hus—I | mean Mr. Kenton. I knew it was Burk, | and that he would also kill Kris unless I stepped between them. This I did. I appointed a place of meeting with Buck— | the place where he was found dead on ‘the trail, and there I put a bullet into his heart. Ah! that was the most satis- fying act of my whole life. and letters he had on his person, leav- ‘ing only those that belonged to David , Coleman, which, as I rightly guessed, he had got by killing—or attempting to kill him somewhere on the trails. _. “The rest you know. God knows I have sinned enough, but I did not kill Thomas Kenton. Maybe I might have ‘done so; I will not say.” She stopped. ‘aM Myra, meantime, was looking to try _ to determine which of the two men who _ looked so much alike was Kris, _ He no longer wore the ring, so she had ‘no sure means of knowing him, and, ring the time she had been in the faint they had changed places, so that - she had lost their identity. _ ; “Ts that all you have to tell, mad- ame?” asked the sheriff. tioned him back, and they saw that she had something more to say. 1 “No, that is not quite all,” she replied. o add that I still love Kid- ‘and that I hate that girl rob me of his affection if she pointed her finger at Myra. asserted, almost fiercely, i I can never die happy and leave TH sy Mr. Ken- heart. Then’ 1; searched him, taking away all the papers | { She was not armed, but she held them all spellbound, for the moment. “You confessed to me that you loved him,” she sneered,'turning toward Myra. “Ha! ha! You little thought that you were talking to one who loves him bet- ter than she loves her life. You love him—na! ha! You may love him, but you shall never be any nearer to him than you are this instant. You love him! Ha! ha! ha! Take that!” Like a flash she drew another from under her dress, and fired. Quick as had been her act, one of the pledged detective pards had been just a fraction of a moment quicker, in spring- ing between her and the object of her aim, and as the pistol rang out he dropped to the ground with a moan—the bullet in his body. Marie made no pause, but turned the deadly tube instantly upon the other of the pards, and fired again, speaking the name of Kid-Glove Kris, anda third shot was turned upon herself and she fell before them all! A groan of horror went up from the multitude, and for some moments no one could speak or move. Tragie had been the terrible ending. pistol For weeks and. weeks one of the de- tective pards lingered between life and | death, No one knew positively which it was, whether Kid-Glove Kris or Detective Dave, but it was the one who had leaped in front of Myra Kenton and received the bullet intended for her! The other had been killed instantly, the bullet having gone straight to his Over this one, this one who had almost given his life to save hers, Myra Kenton watched day and night, devoting her every waking hour to caring for him, To her tender care, finally, he owed his life, and it was a happy day for her when he finally regained his conscious- ' ness enough to recognize her and hear her voice, and to say a few words in re- sponse. . She was intensely eager, as was the whole camp, to know whether this man was Kris or Dave, positively. “Thank God, she missed you!” were his first words. “And that she did not kill you,” from Myra. She was bending over him fondly. “ Where, where is—my—my pard?” he inquired. “Alas! she killed him. Tell me, tell me at once, which one are you? I do not _ know.” | Tears were in the man’s eyes, and he took the young woman’s hand between his own, fondling and caressing it a | few moments before he replied, “Will it make any difference?” | asked, | “Tt can make no difference now,” she answered. “It is you I love, you that I owe for my life.” “ Well, I am David Coleman, the man who came here to serve you. Thank God I have been able to serve you well, | though I would that Kris might have lived.” For one moment Myra turned away he He took a step toward her, but she mo- her face, but the next instant she clasped | the man in her arms and gave him her affection without reserve. Providence had shuffled and dealt. Ve David Coleman remained at Hard Pan, | a8\manager of Myra’s business at first, but at no distant day they were mar- ~ ton etective. ne and I hate the other,” | Tied. And there they are to-day, and | 730 Duke Despard. the Gambler Duelist. their sons and daughters are destined to grow up with the new domain, which, so| — short a time ago, was only a mining- id-Glove . Kris, the Sport. ; * 605 The Shadow Silver Sbip. 31 Beadle’s Dime Library. BY WILLIAM R. EYSTER,. 938 Posy Pete the Sunflower Sport. 916 Two Dead-Square Sports. : 902 Soft Velvet, the Man from Sandrock. 891 Genteel Jim, Sport-at-Large. 881 The Clubman-Crook’s Cat’s-paw, 867 The Frisco Sport. | 852 The Stranger Sport’s Shake-up. $28 Kirk King, the Man from Kirby. 818 Gentleman Dave, the Dead Game Sport, s 783 The King-Pin Tramp, | 767 The Sport of silver Bend, | 718 Uncie Bedrock’s Big Bounce. 707 The Rival Rovers, { 687 Double Cinch Dan, the Sport With a Charm. i ’, Jackson, the Gent from Jaybira. ¥: or, Roldan and His Rovers, | sone Hand. Big Dump. 622 The All Around Sports. 608 Desert Alf, the Man With the Cougar. ; 590 Gentle Jack, the High Roller from Humbug, | 578 Seven Shot Steve, the Sport with a Smile. j 568 (he Dude Detective. 558 Hurrah Harry, the High Horse from Halcyon, } 549 Belshazzar Brick, the Bailiff of Blue Blazes, : 533 Oregon, the Sport With a Sear. 503. The Dude from Denver. 478 Pinnacle Pete; or, The Fool from Way Back, , 459 Major Sunshine, the Man of Three Lives. | 429 fair Trigger Tom of Red Bend, 402 Snapshot Sam; or, The Angels’ Flat Racket. 396 The Piper Detective; or, The Gilt Edge Gang. : 375 Royal George, the Three in One, y { 856 Three Handsome Sports; or, The Combination. a 833 Derringer Dick. the Man with the Drop. ‘ ; 268 Magic Mike, ~he Man of Frills. |, 229 Captain Cutsiceve; or, The Little Sport. | 214 The Two Cool Sports; or, Gertie of the Gulch. ; 182 Hands Up; or, The Knights of the Canyon, i 160 Soft Hand, Sharp: or, The Man with the Sand. ; 145 Pistol Pards; or, The Silent Sport from Cinnabar : BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, 939 Dashing Charlie's Man-Hunt. 934 Dashing Charlie, the Wild West Detectiye. 930 Dashing Charlie’s Double, ; 911 The Blue Blockader; or, The Coast Grayhound, 906 The Cuban Cruiser, B 854 The Ocean Gipsy. } 834 The Wild Steer Riders; or, Texas Jack's Terrors, 819 The Rival Monte Cristos. ; 805 ‘The Last of che Pirates; or, Docm Driven. 801 The Water Wolves’ Detective; or, Trapving the Grave Ghouls, , 791 The Coast-Raider’s Death: Chase, 748 Arizona Chartie, the Crack-shot Detective. 704 Invisible Ivan, the Wizard Detective. 685 The Red-skin Sea Rover. 679 Revello, the Pirate Cruiser; or, The Rival Rovers 672 The Red Rapier; or, The Sea Rover's Bride, 662 The Jew Detective; or, The Beautiful Convict, 640 Tee Rover’s Retribution, 635 The Ex Buccaneer; or, The Stigma of Sin. 625 Red Wings; or, The Gold Seekers of the Bahamas, 615 The Three ( uecaneers, 610 ‘The Red Flag Rover; or, White Wings of the Deep, 600 The Silver Ship; or, The Sea Scouts of "76, | 593 The Sea Rebel; or. Red Rovers of the Revolution, 587 Conrad, the Sailor Spy; or. True Hearts of "76. 581 The Outlawed Skipper; or, The Gantlet Runner, 560 The Man from Mexico. P 553 Ma.'s Monte, the Mutineer; or, The Branded Brig. 546 Tk» Doomed Whaler; or, The Life Wreck, woj 530 The Savages of the Sea, 24 The Sea Chaser; or, The Pirate Noble, 10 Bl Moro, the Corsair Commodore, 493 The Scouts of the Sea. ' 457 The Sea Insurgent: or, The Conspirator Son. ‘oi 446 Ocean Ogre, the Outcast Corsair. m™ 435 The One-Armed buceaneer, i 430 The Fatal Frigate; or, Rivals in Love and War. a) 899 The New Monte Cristo, i 893 The Convict Captian, 377 Afloat and Ashore: or, The Coreair Conspirator, ; re. 369 The Coast Corsair: or, The Siren of the Sea. ry | 864 The Sea Fugitive: or, The Queen of tne Coast. pe! , ) | ie Soi ix ea Se ‘ cil See 341 The Sea Desperado, . 836 ‘Tne Magic Ship; or, Sandy Hook Freebooters. bi $25 The Gentleman Pirate ; or. The Casco Hermits. 318 The Indian thuceaneer ; or, The Red Rovers. 307 The Phantom Pirate; or, The Water Wolves. 255 The Pirate Priest; or, The Gampbler’s Daughter, , 246 Queen Helen, the Amazon of the Overland, | 285 Red Lightning the Man of Chance. 224 Black Beard, the Buccaneer, . 220 The Specter Yacht; or, A Brother's Crime. 210 Buccaneer Bess. tlhe Lioness of the Sea. 205 The Gambler Pirate; or, y of the Lagoon, 198 The Skeleton Schooner; or, The Skimmer, be ) 184 The Scarlet Schooner : or, The Sea Nemesis. ‘ | 104 Montezum: e Merciless. Wee. ye | 103 Merle, the Mutineer; or, The Red Anchor Brand, BY OLL COOMES. i 619 Kit Bandy & Co , the Border Detectives. 148 One-Armed Ait, the Giant Hunter. t 99 The Giant Rifleman: or, Wild Camp Life. 43 Dakota Dan, the Reckless Ranger, BY COL. TROMAS H. MONSTERY. 6 Champion Sam; or, The Monarchs of the Show. — 23 , 150 El Rubio Bravo, King of the Swordsmen, g of Crooks. — pie ‘ $8 Nuccbor Ove the Dead-set Detective. ‘wit 850 The Planter 604 The Detective in Rags; or, The Grim Sha | 800 The ‘True-Heart Pards, | hs new ‘issue enery Wednesday ime Library is for ¢ per cop

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Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers. ‘By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, Buffa'lo Bill's Invincibles. Buffalo Bill’s Blue Belt Brigade. Buffalo Bill's Volunteer Vigilantes. Buffalo Bill at Bay. Buffalo Bill’s Block Game. Buffalo Bill's Black Pard, Bulfalo Bill’s Bluff; or, Dusky Dick the Sport. Buffalo Bill's Quandary: or, Velvet Bill’s Vow. Buffalo Billand the Surgeon-Scout. Buffalo BilPs League; or, Red Butterfly. Buffalo Bill’s Tangled. Trail. Buffalo Bill’s Rough Riders. Buffalo Bill's Secret Ally. Buffalo Bill’s Life-Stake. The Three Bills: Buffalo Bill. Wild Bill and Band- box Bill; or, The Bravo in Broadcloth. Buffalo “ills Buckskin Braves, Buffalo Bill’s Road-Agent Round-up. Butfalo Bill’s Death Charm, Buffalo Bill’s Royal Flush. suffalo Bill’s Double Dilemma, Buffalo Bill’s Redskin Ruse, Buffalo Bill’s Bovs in Blue. Buffalo Bill’s Sharp-Shooters. Buffalo Bill’s Best Bower. Buffalo Bi'l’s Red Trail. Buffalo Bill’s Death-Knell. Buffalo Bill’s Winning Hand, Buffalo Bill’s Dead Shot. Buffalo Bill's Brand. Buffalo Bill’s Spy Shadower, ‘69 Buffalo Bill’s Sweepstake. B3ffalo Bill’s Dozen; or, Silk Ribbon Sam, Buffalo Bill’s Mascot. 7 Buffalo Bill’s Double. Buffalo Bill’s Big Four; or, Custer’s Shadow, Buffalo Bill’s Flush Hand. Buffalo Bill's Blind: or, The Masked Driver, Buffalo Bill and His Merry Men. 3uffalo Bill’s Beagies: or, Silk Lasso Sam, Buffalo Bill’s Bodv Guard. Buffalo Bill on the War-path. Buffalo Bill’s Scout Shadowers. Buffalo Bill Baffled: or, The Deserter Desperado. Buffalo Lill’s Buckskin Brotherhood. Guffalo Bill’s |Jind Trail; or, Mustang Madge. 7 Buffalo Bill’s Swoop; or, The King of the Mines. The Cowboy Clan: or, The Tigress of Texas, Lasso King’s League; or, Buck Taylor in Texas. Buffalo Bill's Chief of Cowboys; or, Buck Taylor Buffalo Bill’s Lonanza; or. Si. ver Circle Knights, Buffalo Bull's grip or, Vath Bound to Custer, Buffalo Bill’s Pledge: or. The League of Three. Vild Bill's Gold Trail; or, The Desperate Dozen. 175 Wild Bill’s Trump Card; or, The Indian Heiress, 168 Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot, By Bulalo Bill, 969 Texas Jack, the Lasso King 839 The Ranch King Dead-Shot. 820 White Beaver’s Still Hunt. 807 Wild Bill, the Wild West Duelist. 800 Wild Bill, the Deaa-Center Shot. 639 Buffalo Bill's Gold King, 599 The Dead Shot Nine; or, My Pards of the Plains, 414 Red Renard, the indian Detective. 401 One-Armed Para; or, Borderland Retribution. 897 The Wizard Brothers: or, White Beaver’s Trail. 894 White Beaver, the Exile of the Platte. 819 Wild Bill, the Whirlwind of the West. 304 Texas Jack, the Prairie Rattler. 243 The Pilgrim Sharp; or, The Soldier’s Sweetheart, 83 Gold Bullet Svort; or, Knights of the Overland, . 52 Death-Traiier, the Chief of Scouts. By Leon Lewis, Ned Buntline, ete. 773 Buffalo Bill’s Ban; or, Cody to the Rescue, 682 Buffalo Bill’s Secret Service Trail. 629 Buffalo Bill’s Daring Role; or, Daredeath Dick. 517 Buffalo Bill’s First Trail; or, The Express Rider, 158 Buffalo Bill, Chief. of Scouts, 117 Buffalo Bill s Strange Pard; or, 92 Buffalo Bill, the Buckskin King. : BY HAROLD PAYNE. 883 The Man from Mexico in New York, 872 The King-Pin Shark; or, Thad Burr's Ten Strike, 861 The Tenderloin Big Four 853 The Quaker City Crook. 844 Tracked to Chicago, 886 The Policy Broker’s Blind. 829 The Frisco Sharper’s Cool Hand. 821 The Tramp Shadower’s Backer. 813 The Sham Spotter’s Shrewd Scheme. 806 The Grand Street Gold-Dust Sharpers, 798 Detective Burr’s Luna ic Witness 792 The Wall Street Sharper's Snap. 784 Thad Burr’s Death heb 742 Detective Burr Among the New York Thugs. 734 Detective Burr’s Foil; or, A Woman's Strategy. 728 Detective Burr, the Headquart rs Special. 713 De'ee ive Burr’s Spirit Chase. 706 Detect ve Burr’s Seven Clues. 698 Thad Burr, the Invincible; or, The ‘‘L’’ Clue, 690 The Matchless Detective. 680 XX, the Fatal Clew; or, Burr’s Master Case. BY LIEUT. A, K. SIMS, 914 Snowflake Sam’s Double. 897 The Six-Shot Spotter. 887 The Stranger Sport from Spokane, 873 The Sport Detective’s Colorado Clew. - 860 The Spangled Sport Shadower. 843 The Crescent City Sport. 882 Gid Gale’s Block Game. 804 The King Pin of the Leadville Lions. 786 Chicago Charlie’s Diamond Haul. 976 Chi Charlie, the Columbian Detective. 758 The Wizar! King Detective. 723 Teamster Tom, the Boomer Detective. 709 Lodestone Lem, the Champion of Chestnut Burr, 695 Singer Sam, the Pilgrim Detective. be River Rustlers; or. the Detective from ’Way Back Stuttering Sam, the Whitest Sport of Santa Fe. 666 Old Adamant, the Man of Roc 964 960 956 950 943 936 927 921 915 909 904 900 895 890 882 74 869 863 857 851 845 830 826 822 816 812 794 187 Dashing Dandy. 618 Kansas Karl, the Detective King. Prince Prcvese. the Flower of the Flock, 552 528 Huckleberry, the Foot-Hills Detective. | 428 The Flying Glim; or, The Island Lure, BEADLE'S*] IME*]IBRARY. 929 Gentleman George, the Showman Sport. 912 Genteel Joe’s Lone Hand. { 903 The Train Detective. | 896 Kent Keen, the Crook-Crusher. 888 Nightshade in New York. | 879 Falcon Flynn, the Flash Detective. 871 The Crook Cashier. | 859 Clew-Hawk Keene’s Right Bower. 847 Hiram Hawk, the Harlem Detective, 840 Major Bullion. Boss of the Tigers. 831 Shadowing the London Detective. 817 Plush Velvet, the Prince of Spotters, 803 The Bogus Broker’s Right Bower. 788 The Night-Hawk Detective. 779 Silk Ribbon’s Crush-oub. 766 Detective Zach, the Broadway Spotter. 751 The Dark Lantern Detective, 736 The Never-Fail Detective. 724 Captain Hercules, the Strong Arm Detective. 711 Dan Damon, the Gilt-Edge Detective. 701 Silver Steve, the Branded Sport. 694 Gideon Grip, the Secret Shadower., 684 Velvet Van, the Mystery Shadower. 678 The Dude Desperado 371 Jason Clew, the Silk-Handed Ferret. 664 Monk Morel, the Man-Hunter. 654 Sol Sphinx, the Ferret Detective, 642 Red Pard and Yellow. 608 Silent Sam, the Shadow Sphinx. 592 Captain Sid, the Shasta Ferret. 579 Old Cormorant, the Bowery Shadow. 569 Captain Cobra, the Hooded Mystery. 554 Danton, the Shadow Sharp. 550 Silkk Hand, the Mohave Ferret. 548 The Magnate Detective. 582 Jack Javert. the Independent Detective. 523 Reynard of Red Jack: or, The Lost Detective 512 Captain Velvet’s Big Stake. 505 Phil Fox, the Genteel Spotter. 496 Richard Redfire, the Two Worlds’ Detective. 487 Sunshine Sam, a Chip of the Old Block. 480 Hawkspear. the Man with a Secret. 458 Coldgrip in Deadwood, 460 Captain Coldgrip, the Detective 458 Captain Coldgrip’s Long Trail. 447 Volcano, the Frisco Spy, 441 The California Sharp, 434 Lucifer Lynx, the \\ onder Detective, 421 Father Ferret, the Frisco Shadow. 413 Captain Coldgrip in New York, 407 Captain Coldgrip’s Nerve; or. Injun Nick. 400 Captain Coldgrip; or, The New York Spotter. 392 The Lost Bonanza; or, The Boot of Silent Hound. 382 The Bonanza Band: or, Dread Don of Cool Clan. 874 Major Blister, the Sport of Two Cities. 865 Keen Kennard, the Shasta Shadow, 352 The Desperate Dozen. / 347 Denver Dake, the Man with “ Sand.” 340 Cool Conrad. the Dakota Detective. 335 Flash Dan, the Nabob; or, Blades of Bowie Bar, 821 California Claude, the Lone Bandit. 294 Broadcloth Burt. the Denver Dandy, 941 The Shadow Sport from Frisco, BY WILLTANE HM. MANNING, 948 The Red-Gloved Detective. 931 Frisco Frank at Glory Gulch. 920 The Montana Miner in New York. 908 The Doomsday-Den Detective. 899 The Double-Quick Detective. 893 Yellow Gid, of Dark Divide. 885 ‘he Expert Detective’s Shake-up. 875 Trapping the Race-Track Judge. 864 The Police Special’s Dilemma, 849 The Genteel Sharper’s Combine 841 Graydon’s Double Deal. 883 The Sport Detective’s he $28 The Athlete Sport About Town. 808 TheCrook-Detective’s Pull. 790 Plunger Pete, the Race Track Detective. 782 Roval Rock, the Round-up Detective. 774 Steve Starr, the Dock Detective. 764 The New York ee Shadower, 738 Detective Claxton, the Record Breaker, 714 Gabe Gall, the Gambolier from Great Hump, 703 Spokane Saul, the Samaritan aes 692 Dead-Shot Paul, the Deep-Range Explorer. 655 Strawberry Sam, the Man with the 646 Dark John, the Grim Guard. 638 Murdock, the Dread Detective. 623 Dangerous Dave, the Never-Beaten Detective. 611 Alkali Abe, the Game Chicken from Texas. 506 Rustler Rube; the Round-Up Detective. 585 Dan Dixon’s Double. 57o Steady Hand. the Napoleon of Detectives 563 Wyoming Zeke, the Hotspur of Honcysuckle. 551 Ga Kean the Man with Backbone, 539 Old Doubledark, the Wily Detective. 531 Saddle-Chief Kit, the Prairie Centaur. 521 Paradise Sam, the Nor’-West Pilot. 513 Texas Tartar, the Man With Nine Lives. 506 Uncle Honest, the Peacemaker of Hornets’ Nest. 498 Central Pacific Paul, the Mail Train Spy. 492 Border Bullet, the Prairie Sharpshooter. 486 Kansas Kitten, the Northwest Detective. 479 Gladiator Gabe, the Samson of Sassajack. 470 The Duke of Dakota. 463 Gold Gauntlet. the Gulch Gladiator. 455 Yank Yellowbird, the Tal) Hustler of the Hills, 449 Bluff Burke, King of the Rockies. 442 Wild West Walt, the Mountain Veteran. 437 Deap Duke; or, The Man of Two Lives. 427 The Rivals of Montana Mill. 415 Hot Heart, the Detective SPY. 405 Old Baldy the Brigadier of Buck Basin. 267 Colorado Rube, the Strong Arm of Botepan/ 279 The Gold Dragoon, ur, California Bloodhound, BY LEON LEWIS. 967 Wind River Clark, the Gold Hermit. 797 Pistol Tommy, the Miner Sharp. 785 fhe Down East Detective in Nevada. 773 Buffalo Bill's Ban: or, Cody to the Rescue, 699 The wy caged PAgag Late 686 The On-the-Wing Detectives. 624 The Submarine Detective: or, The Water Ghouls. 484 Captain Ready, the Red Ransomer, 481 The Silent Detective; or, The Bogus Nephew 456 The Demon Steer, irtbmark, iO ~ ALBERT W. AIKEN’S NOVELS. . Dick Talbot Series, 1 Dick Talbot’s Close Call. 7? Dick Talbot in Apache Lend. Dick Talbot. the Ranch King. Dick Talbot’s Clean-Out. ) Dick Talbot in No Man’s Camp. t Dick Talbot: 01, The Brand of Crimson Cross 36 Dick Talbot; or, The Death-Shot of Shasta. Aiken’s Fresh of Frisco Series, 825 Fresh, the Race-Track Sport. 660 The Fresh in Montana; or, Blake’s Full Hand. 652 Tne Fresh’s Rustle at Painted City. 647 The Fresh at Santa Fe; or, The Stranger Sharp. Fresh, the Sport: or, The Big Racket at Slide Out. Fresh Against the Field; or, Blake, the Lion, The Fresh in Texas; or. The Escobedo Millions, The Fresh of Frisco on the Rio Grande. 7 The Fresh in Big Walnut Camp; or, Bronze Jack Aiken’s Joc Phenix Series. 55 Joe Phenix’s Mascot. Joe Phenix’s Double Deal. 54 Joe Phenix in Chicago. The Doctor from Texas; or, Joe Phenix’s Clue, Joe Phenix’s Right Bower. The Female Barber Detectiv Silver City. Joe Phenix’s Great Blue Diamend Case; or, The New York Sport at Long Branch. 793 Joe Phenix’s Decoy; or, The Man of Three, 760 Joe Phenix’s Lone Hand. 749 Joe Phenix’s Big Bulge. 745 Joe Phenix’s Mad Case. 708 Joe Phenix's Siren; or, The Woman Hawkshaw, 700 Joe Phenix’s Unknown; or, Crushing the Crooks 681 Joe Phenix’s Specials; or, The Actress Detective 637 Joe Phenix in Crazy Camp. 632 Joe Phenix's Master Search. 628 Joe Phenix’s Combin: ; cr,the Dandy Conspirator 620 Joe Phenix’s Silent Six. 601 Joe Phenix’s Shadow; or,the Detective’s Monitor 419 Joe Phenix., the King of Detectives. 161 Joe Phenix’s Great Man Hunt, 112 Joe Phenix, Private Detective; or, The League. 79 Joe Phenix, the Police Spy. ; or, Joe Phenix in Aiken’s Miscellaneous Noveis, 940 935 932 9265 923 901 892 876 842 Captain Jack, the Scalper The Hawks and Wolves of New York Detective Gordon’s Grip. Old Sunflower, the Silent Smiter. Old Sunflower, the Hayseed Detective. The Hotel Swell-Sharp; or, The Siren Shadower, The Countryman Detective. Gold Button Sport;or, The Miner Sharps. Teton Tom, the Half-L1cod. 835 The King-Pin Detective. 814 The New Yorker Among Texas Sports. 775 King Dandy, the Silver Sport. 753 Gideon’s a at Babylon lar. 717 Captain Pat McGowen, the Greencoat Detective, 674 Uncle Sun Up, the Born Detective. 670 The Lightweight Detective. 665 The Frisco Detective; or, The Golden Gate Find, 613 Keen Billy, the Sport. , 607 Old Benzine, the ** Hard Case” Detective. ~ 504 Fire Face, the Silver King’s Foe, 586 The Silver Sharp Detective. 577 Tom, of Calif orma; or, Detective’s Shadow Act, 570 The Actress Detective: or, The Invisible Hand 562 Lone Hand, the Shadow. 520 The Lone Hand on the Caddo. 490 The Jone Hand in Texas. ; 475 Chin Chin, the Chinese Detective.) 465 The Actor Detective. 440 The High Hor: e of the Pacific. 423 The Lone Hand; or, The Red River Recreants, 408 Doe Grip, the Vendetta of Death. 881 The Gypsy Gentleman: cr. Nick Fox, Detective 376 Black agile ns o1, The Rio Grande High Horse 370 The Dusky Detective: or, Pursued to the Ena. 363 Crowningshield, the Detective $20 The Genteel Spotter: or The N, Y. Night Hawk, 252 The Wali Street Plood; or, The Telegraph Girl. 208 The Double Detective; or, The Midnight Mystery. 196 La Marmoset, the Letective Queen. 101 The Man from New York, 91 The Winning Oar: or. The Innkeeper’s Daughter, 84 Hunted Down: or, The League of Three. 81 The Human Tiger: or. A Heart of Fire, %5 Gentleman George: or, Parlor. Prison and Street, 2 The Phantom Hand; or, The 5th Avenue Heiress. 56 The Indian Mazeppa; or, Madman of the Plains. 49 The Wolf Demon; or. The Kanawha Queen. 42 The California Detective; or, The Witches of N.Y, 81 The New York Sharp; or, The Flash of Lightning. 27 The Spotter Detective: or, Girls of New York. NEW ISSUES. 981 The Gold-Lace Sect By Jos. E. Badger. 982 Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. i | A. P. Morris 983 Kid-Glove Kris, the a By J. ©. Cowdrick. 984 Buffalo Bill’s Life Raffle. By Col, P. Ingraham, 985 The Long-Haired Pards. By Jos. E, Badger. 986 Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. By Col. Monstery’ JUST ISSUED. 971 “D;” or, Branded for Life. By K. F. Hill, 972 The Captain’s Enemy. = Col. P. Ingraham. 973 The Dread Shot Four y Buffalo Bill. 974 The Man from Denver. By Jos. E. Badger. 975 Freelance, the Buccaneer. By Col. Ingrabam, 976 Overland Kit. By Albert W. Aiken. 977 Cyclone Pete. By Wm. R. Eyster. 978. Monte Cristo in New York By J, 0. Cowdrick, 079 Buffalo Bill’s Relentless Trail. a Ingraham. 980 The AJl-Around Athlete. By A, W. Aiken, A new issue every Wednesday, Te DE LRAT ee are on N ers, ten cen Tr copy. or sent , reset t of price. BEADLE Al1AMS, Publishers,. 92 William street, New Xork,

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S$ ~. \ 984 979 ) 973 eee oe 964 960 056 950 943 936 ee ee iil Buffalo Bill’s Life Raffle; or, The Doomed Three. 3y Col. P. Ingraham. Buffalo Bill's Relentless Trail. Ry Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, The Dread Shot Four; or, My Pards of the Plains. By Col, W. F. Cody. Buffalo Bill’s Invincibles; or, The Sable Shad- orer's Sublime Sacrifice. By Col. P. Ingra- ham. Buffalo Bill's Blue Belt Brigade; or, Sun- flower Sam of Shasta. By Col. P. Ingraham. 3uffalo Bill’s Volunteer Vigilantes; or, The Mysterious Man in Blue. By Col. P. Ingra- ham. Buffalo Bill at Bay; or, The Gold Seeker's Docm. By Col. P. Ingraham, juffalo Bill’s Block Game; or, The Mounted Miners of the Overland. By Col. P. Ingra- ham. Buffalo Bill’s Black Pard; or, The Gold Boomers of the Big Hern, By Col. P. Ingra- ham. Buffalo Bill's Bluff; or, Dusky Dick, the Sport. By Col. P. Ingraham. Buffalo Bill’s Quandary; or, Velvet Bill's Vow. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill and the Surgeon Scout: or, Go- wan-go, the Redskin Rider. By Col. P. In- graham. Buffalo Bill's League; or, *Red Butterfly. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill’s Tangled Trail; or, Gentleman Jack, the Man of Many Masks. By Col. P. Ingraham. Buffalo Bill's Rough Riders; or, Texas Jack’s Sharp-Shooters. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill's Secret Ally; or, The Texan's Double. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill’s Life-Stake; or, The Pledged Three. By Col. P. Ingraham. The Three Bills; Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill and Band-Box Bill; or, The Bravo in Broadcloth, By Col. P. Ingraham, Buffalo Bill's Buckskin Braves; or, The Card Queen's Last Gane. By Col, P. Ingraham. Buffalo Bill’s Road Agent Round-Up; or, The Mysterious Masked Man in Black. By Col. P. Ingraham. Buffalo Bill's With the Scar. Death-Charm; or, The Man By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill’s Royal Flush; or, The Pony Ri-)| der’s Death-Run. By Col, Prentiss Ingra- ham. ‘ suffalo Bill’s Double Dilemma; or, The Great Scout's Big Three. By Col. P. Ingraham. 5 Buffalo Bill’s Redskin Ruse; or, Texas Jack's Death Shot. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. The Ranch King Dead-Shot; or, Texas Jack’s Proxy. By Buffalo Bill. Buffalo Bill’s Boys in Blue; or, The Brimstone Band’s Blot-out. By Col. P. Ingraham, Buffalo Bill’s Sharp-Shooters; or, The Surgeon Scout to the Rescue. By Col. P. Ingraham. ae) ~~ se) aa) °|s 2/s s|s sa) s/s 000000000 ee | 822 820 Pa ed cet ret rt rd rd et 5 Buffalo Buffalo Bill’s Best Bower; or, Montebello the Gold King. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. White Beaver’s Still Hunt; or, The Miner Marauder’s Death-Track. By Buffalo Bill. Buffalo Bill’s Red Trail; or, The Road-Rider Renegade’s Run Down. By Col. P. Ingraham. Buffalo Bill's Death-Knell; or, The Red Hand Riders of the Rockies. By Col. P. Ingraham. Wild Bil, the Wild West Duelist; cr, The Girl Mascot of Moonlight Mine. By Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill, the Wild West Duelist; or, The Girl Grande Ralph, the Cowboy Chief. By Buf- falo Bill. Buffalo Bill’s Winning Hand; or, The Masked Woman of the Colorado Canyon, By Col. P. Ingrahem. 3uffalo Bill’s Dead Shot; or, The Skeleton Scout of the Colorado. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill’s Brand; or, The Brimstone Brotherhood. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, Buffalo Bill’s Spy-Shadower; or, The Masked Men at Grand Canyon. By Col. P. Ingraham. Buffalo Bill's Ban; or, Cody to the Rescue. By Leon Lewis. Buffalo Bill’s Sweepstake; or, The Wipe-out at Last Chance. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Bill’s Dozen; or, Silk Ribbon Sam. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 3uffalo Bill’s Mascot; or, The Death Valley Victim No. 13. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill’s Double; or, The Desperado De- tective. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill’s Big Four; or, Custer’s Shadow. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill's Flush Hand; or, Texas Jack's Bravos. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill’s Blind; or, The Masked Driver of Death's Canyon. By Col. Prentiss Ingra- ham. Buffalo Bill and His Merry Men; or, The Robin Hood Rivals. By Col. Prentiss Ingra- ham. 3uffalo Bill’s Beagles; or, Silk Lasso, Sam. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill's Body Guard; or, The Still Hunt of the Hills. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 2 Buffalo Bill on the War Path; or, Silk Lasso Sam, the Will-o’-the-Wisp. By Col. P. In- graham. Buffalo Bill’s Scout Shadowers; or, Emer- ald Ed of Devil’s Acre. Buffalo Bill Baffled; or, perado's Defiance. By Buffalo Bill's. Buckskin Opening Up a Lost Trail. graham. Buffalo Bill’s Blind Trail; or, The Daughter of the Regiment. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, By Col. P. Ingraham. The Deserter Des- Col. P. Ingraham. Brotherhood; or, By Col. P. In- 2 Buffalo Bill’s Secret Service Trail. By Major Dangerfield Burr. Buffalo Bill's Swoop; or, the King of the Mines. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. The Cowboy Clan; or, The Tigress of Texas, By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. ee 649 644 639 629 599 517 414 401 897 394 862 329 319 B04 243 189 175 a | | Ten Cents a | 4) Copy. The ME | Library. \ PRPs iteemetin | The Lasso King’s League; or, The Tigers of Texas. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. ) Buek Taylor, the Saddle King. Buffalo Bill's / Chief of Scouts. By Col. P. Ingraham. \ ’ \ Buffalo Bill's Bonanza; or, The Knights of { the Silver Circle. By Col. P. Ingraham. The Gold King; or, Montebello, the Magnifi- cent. By Buffalo Bill, Buffalo Bill's Daring Role; Dick, King of the Cowboys. The Dead Shot Nine; or, Plains. By Buffalo Bill. Buffalo Bill's First Trail; or, Will Cody, the Pony Express Rider. By Ned Buntline. Red Renard, the Indian Detective; or, The Gold Buzzards of Colorado. By Buffalo B.1l. The One-Armed Pard; or, Red Retribution in or, Daredeath By Leon Lewis. My Pards of the Borderland. By Buffalo Bill. The Wizard Brothers; or, White Beaver's Trail. By Buffalo Bill. White Beaver, the Exile of the Platte; or, = Wronged Man’s Red Trail. By Buffalo sill. Buffalo Bill’s Grip; or, Oath-bound to Custer. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. Buffalo Bill’s Pledge; or, The League of Three, By Col, P. Ingraham. Wild Bill, the Whirlwind of the West. “By suffalo Bill. Texas Jack, the Prairie Rattler; or, The Queen of the Wild Riders. By Buffalo Bill, The Pilgrim Sharp; or, The Soldier's Sweet- OL OL LL SS SST heart. By Buffalo Bill, Government Scout and Guide. Wild Bill’s Gold Trail; or, The Desperate Dozen. By Col, P. Ingraham, Wild Bill’s Trump Card; or, The Indian Heiress. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot; or, Dagger Don’s Double. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, $ Buffalo Bill, Chief of Scouts; or, The Doomed Dozen. By Dr. Frank Powell. 117 Buffalo Bill’s Strange Pard; or, Dashing Dandy, the Hotspur of the Hills. By Major D. Burr, 92 Buffalo Bill, the Buckskin King;, or, The Amazon of the West. Burr. 83 Gold Bullet Sport; or, The Knights of the Overland. By Buffalo Bill. Death Trailer, and Love in Bill, the Chief of Scouts; cr, Life a Frontier Fort. Ky Buffalo \ ( \ By Major Dangerfield ( f \ { \ \ NEW ISSUES TO COME, ( The Long-Haired Pards; or, The Tartars of / the Plains. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. \ Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. By Col, Thos. \ Hoyer Monstery. 987 Shadrach, the Sport Detective; or, The Secret / Seven. By John W. Osbon. { 988 Rocky Mountain Rob, the California Outlaw. | By Albert W. Aiken. { HE DIME LIBRARY is for sale by all Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by mail, pre-paid, on re- ceipt of price. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 92 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 000000000 000@00 00080 000000000 9A0A9V000000