BY MARVIN DANA 
 
 AUTHOR OF WITHIN THE LAW 
 BASED ON THE POEM OF 
 
 ROBERT W SERVICE
 
 (USRARYj 
 
 UNfVf RSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN DIEGO I
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW
 
 THE ILLUSTRATIONS SHOWN- IN 
 THIS EDITION ARE REPRODUC 
 TIONS OF SCENES FROM THE 
 PHOTO-PLAY OF "THE SHOOTING 
 OF DAN MCGREW" SCENARIO 
 BY AARON HOFFMAN PRODUCED 
 AND COPYRIGHTED BY THE POPU 
 LAR PLAYS AND PLAYERS Co. INC., 
 TO WHOM THE PUBLISHERS DE 
 SIRE TO EXPRESS THEIR THANKS 
 AND APPRECIATION FOR PERMIS 
 SION TO USE THE PICTURES.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF 
 DAN McGREW 
 
 A Novel 
 
 BY 
 
 MARVIN DANA 
 
 Author of WITHIN THE LAW, etc. 
 
 BASED ON THE FAMOUS POEM OF 
 
 ROBERT W. SERVICE 
 
 PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES 
 FROM THE PHOTO PLAY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1915, by 
 BARSE & HOPKINS
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 Produced by 
 THE POPULAR PLAYS AND PLAYERS, Inc. 
 
 Scenario by 
 AARON HOFFMAN 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS 
 
 Jim EDMUND BREESE 
 
 Dan McGrew WILLIAM MORSE 
 
 Lou KATHRIN ADAMS 
 
 Nell BETTY RIGGS 
 
 Jack Reeves WALLACE SCOTT 
 
 Sam Ward JAMES JOHNSON 
 
 The Sheriff JACK AUSTEN 
 
 Fingie Whalen JACK MURRAY 
 
 Caribou Bill BILL COOPER 
 
 Harry, the Dog Man HIMSELF
 
 THE SHOOTING OF 
 DAN McGREW 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A CLATTER of hoofs on the gravel of 
 the driveway. A shout from the rider 
 as he swung himself down from the saddle: 
 
 "Lou!" 
 
 A woman came swiftly from the cool shad 
 ows of the porch into the brilliance of the 
 summer sunlight, to meet the man who now 
 advanced toward her with fond, smiling 
 eagerness. 
 
 The two kissed very tenderly, for they were 
 lovers still, after seven years of married life. 
 The delicate rose of the wife s cheeks deep 
 ened a little under the warmth of the hus 
 band s caress, and the graciously curving lips 
 trembled to a smile of happiness as she looked 
 
 7
 
 8 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 up into the strong face of the man she loved. 
 In the slightly rugged features, she read viril 
 ity and honesty and loyalty. An exquisite 
 contentment pervaded her. She felt that the 
 cup of joy was brimming. Husband and 
 child and home ! 
 
 Her train of thought was broken by the 
 man s words, spoken quickly in a tone that 
 mingled curiously amusement and chagrin: 
 
 "Dangerous Dan! He s coming, Lou! 
 He s buried the hatchet, and is coming to visit 
 us. Dangerous Dan McGrew! Now, what 
 do you think of that?" He waited for an an 
 swer, staring quizzically into the suddenly 
 perturbed face of his wife. 
 
 "My rival!" he added whimsically, albeit a 
 bit complacently. 
 
 "Never!" the wife declared with emphasis. 
 A note of harshness had crept into the music 
 of her voice. "Never your rival, Jim, though 
 he tried to be." The earnestness of utterance 
 gratified the man, in whom a vague, latent 
 jealousy stirred at thought of that other who 
 had loved where he loved. But there was no
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 9 
 
 gratification in the new mood of the woman. 
 Instead, a subtle dread touched her spirit. 
 The contentment of a moment before was fled. 
 There was nothing precise, nothing formu 
 lated, in her thoughts. Only, something sin 
 ister, menacing, pressed upon her. She 
 welcomed the distraction afforded by her 
 daughter s appearance on the scene. 
 
 The girl came running from the gardens 
 behind the ranch-house and sprang into her 
 father s arms with a cry of delight. 
 
 To her six years, his frequent rides to the 
 village ten miles away were in the nature of 
 great events, and she welcomed each return as 
 if from long and perilous voyaging. More 
 over, there was always an added thrill for 
 Nell in her father s home-coming, because of 
 the mysterious charm in the gift that never 
 failed. To-day, indeed, the present was des 
 tined to mark her life; even to be of vital im 
 port in a crisis of distant years. 
 
 No hint of the gravity of things-to-be shad 
 owed the radiant joy of the child s face, as she 
 was lifted in the man s arms and kissed.
 
 io THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 There was only vivid anticipation of the gift 
 that would mark this wonderful hour. 
 
 James Maxwell lowered his daughter to the 
 ground, with an affirmative nod toward his 
 wife. 
 
 "Now, Nell," he said in a voice of author 
 ity, "stand perfectly still, and keep your eyes 
 shut, and maybe something will happen." 
 
 The girl rested uneasily in an effort of 
 obedience, with her eyes screwed tight-shut, 
 giggling expectantly. 
 
 The mother looked on, smiling again, the 
 momentary depression of her spirit allayed, if 
 not destroyed, by the scene. She met the 
 man s glance with understanding in the 
 brown, gold-flecked deeps of her eyes. The 
 father took from a pocket a small leather case, 
 and opened it, and held up for his wife s in 
 spection the gold chain and pendant locket, 
 set with an initial N in tiny pearls. The 
 wife nodded her approval. Straightway, the 
 chain was adjusted about the child s neck, 
 with the locket hanging low on the slender 
 breast.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW n 
 
 "Now!" the father cried sternly. 
 
 On the instant, Nell s dark eyes flashed 
 open in swift inquiry to her father s face, 
 then, following the direction of his gaze, the 
 proud chin was drawn in, and she stared down 
 rapturously at the trinket lying on her bosom. 
 Followed little squeals of bliss, then reverent 
 touching of the treasure. The secret of the 
 catch baffled her, and the father had to come 
 to the rescue lest patience become too hardly 
 strained. When the locket had been opened, 
 she stared into it through long seconds in 
 wordless pleasure. Finally, she spoke in a 
 hushed voice, as if in the presence of some 
 thing very sacred. 
 
 "It s you, Daddy!" It was a broken whis 
 per of happiness. Her eyes, lustrous with 
 glad tears, were lifted adoringly to her fa 
 ther s face for a moment. Then, again, her 
 glance went to the locket. 
 
 "And you, Mamma!" she exclaimed, and 
 turned to regard her mother with equal love. 
 "Oh, it s just beautiful!" Pictures of both of 
 you Daddy and Momsy! all my very own!
 
 12 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 . . . And may I really, truly wear it?" 
 Nell s voice was suddenly become timid, infi 
 nitely wistful. 
 
 The mother answered, as she stooped and 
 kissed her daughter. 
 
 "Yes, darling; it s all your very own, to 
 wear every minute, day and night, if you want 
 
 to." 
 
 Presently, when the intricacy of the locket s 
 catch had been fully mastered, Nell stole a\vay 
 to her favorite shady nook in the rose-garden, 
 to be alone with her delight, while husband 
 and wife ascended the steps of the porch, and 
 seated themselves at ease in the W 7 icker chairs. 
 The lattice-work of vines shut off the rays 
 of the westering sun. Blowing over the 
 stretches of lawn, thick-set with shrubberies 
 and studded with trees, the soft breeze came re 
 freshingly, and bore to the two the multiple 
 bland aromas of the generous earth. Beyond 
 the green within which the mansion stood, 
 rolled rich acres of ripening grain that undu 
 lated beneath the gentle urging of the wind
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 13 
 
 in shimmering waves of gold. The whole 
 scene was one of peace and prosperity, where 
 a fruitful soil lavished riches in return for the 
 industry of man. The house itself was a com 
 modious structure, bountifully equipped with 
 the comforts and elegancies of living; for 
 James Maxwell was, though still a young 
 man, one who had achieved a full measure of 
 success from out the fertile fields of the West, 
 and his culture and that of his wife had given 
 to their home a refinement unusual in regions 
 so remote. Thus far, their married life had 
 been almost flawless. The wholesomeness and 
 simplicity of their life together, blessed with 
 the presence of the child, varied by occasional 
 visits to the larger centers of civilization, had 
 held them in tranquil happiness. Yet, this 
 afternoon, there lacked something of the ac 
 customed serenity between the two. Now, 
 the oppression that had affected the woman at 
 the mention of Dan McGrew returned to her 
 in some measure, and, by reason of the sym 
 pathy between her and him, a heaviness
 
 i 4 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 weighed on his mood as well, though he con 
 cealed it as best he might, even from himself, 
 and spoke with brisk cheerfulness. 
 
 "Yes, Lou, Dangerous Dan McGrew is 
 about to descend upon us handsome as ever, 
 I suppose, and with all his wiles still working. 
 I can t cease to wonder, Lou, how I ever came 
 to win you from him." There was a new ten 
 derness in his voice as he spoke the final words. 
 
 The wife laughed softly. 
 
 "Don t fish, Jim," she retorted. "You 
 know perfectly well that Dan never had a 
 chance with me not really. He was alw r ays 
 a fascinating fellow enough, but, somehow 
 She fell silent, a puzzled frown lining the 
 warm white of her forehead beneath its coro 
 nal of golden hair. 
 
 "Yes," the husband agreed; "somehow, 
 there is always that but when one gets to 
 thinking of Dan." He would have added 
 more, but checked himself, reluctant to speak 
 ill of one who had been his friend, one whom 
 he had bested in the struggle for a woman s 
 favor.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 15 
 
 The wife had no such scruple. She spoke 
 incisively, and her voice was harsher than its 
 wont. 
 
 "I never trusted him," she said. "I always 
 found myself doubting his honesty." 
 
 Thus encouraged, Jim spoke his mind 
 frankly. 
 
 "Dan was always as crooked as a dog s hind 
 leg," he declared, without any trace of bitter 
 ness, but as one stating a fact not to be denied. 
 
 "He wrote to you?" Lou inquired, with a 
 suggestion of wondering in her voice. 
 
 "No; it was Tom." 
 
 Jim thrust his hand into the breast-pocket 
 of his coat, and brought forth an envelope, 
 from which he took out and unfolded a single 
 sheet of typewritten paper. Then he read 
 the letter: 
 
 "Dear old Chum: 
 
 "Dan McGrew is back again in his old 
 home after five years. He is coming down to 
 see you and his old sweetheart, Lou. He has 
 not yet forgiven you for winning her. He 
 seems to have the same old unsettled disposi-
 
 1 6 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 tion and I think he requires the strong hands 
 of a friend to keep him in the straight path. 
 "Sincerely your old friend, 
 
 "TOM." 
 
 "Then you don t know when he will get 
 here?" Lou asked. 
 
 Jim shook his head. 
 
 "No," he said, rather irritably; "we ll just 
 have to wait for the visitation to descend upon 
 us, be it sooner or later." 
 
 "We shall have to be nice to him, of course," 
 the wife said. 
 
 "I m not specially keen on dry-nursing Dan 
 McGrew," Jim remarked plaintively. "We 
 were never really intimate, though we were 
 friendly enough. To tell the truth, Lou, I m 
 mighty sorry Dan s coming here." His face 
 was somber as he gazed into his wife s eyes 
 and read in their clear light sympathy with 
 his own repugnance at the prospect. With an 
 impatient ejaculation, he sprang to his feet 
 and went into the house, where he seated him 
 self before the grand piano that occupied the
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 17 
 
 center of the spacious living-room. In a 
 fierce crashing of dissonances, he voiced the 
 resentment that was in him. But after a little, 
 indignation somewhat relieved by such audi 
 ble interpretation, his fingers flew into rip 
 pling arpeggios, out of which came, at last, a 
 lilting melody, joyous, yet tender. For Jim 
 Maxwell, lover of music all his days, had a 
 gift of improvisation, with a sufficient tech 
 nique for its exercise. To it he resorted often 
 for the sounding of his deeper moods, and in 
 it found a never-failing solace. So now, pres 
 ently, soothed by his own art, he got up from 
 the piano and went back to the porch, where 
 he faced his wife, smiling. 
 Lou smiled in response. 
 "Thank you, Jim," she said softly. "You 
 scared away all the blue devils with those 
 dreadful discords. And then you just tempted 
 all sorts of good fairies to come and hover, and 
 they did. You cheered me up. It s all right 
 that Dan should come to visit us. Only- 
 She broke off, nor did the husband utter any
 
 1 8 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 question as to the uncompleted sentence. But 
 in the hearts of both lurked still something of 
 the dread which the music had failed entirely 
 to dispel.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE time of Dan McGrew s arrival was 
 not long left in doubt; for, on the third 
 day following Tom s letter, Jim received one 
 from Dan himself. 
 
 Dear Jim: 
 
 Am back again in the old home after five 
 years, and have grown rich. Am coming 
 right down to see you and my old sweetheart, 
 Lou. I can still hardly forgive you for win 
 ning her from me, but I suppose you re the 
 better man. I am still the same rolling stone, 
 ever seeking the gold that seems to get further 
 away as I approach. Will reach your place 
 the Tuesday following your receipt of this 
 letter. Sincerely, 
 
 DAN McGREW. 
 
 So, on the appointed Tuesday, Jim drove 
 in his light, covered buggy to the town, to 
 meet the through train from the East. With 
 him, mounted on her pony, went Nell. She 
 
 19
 
 20 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW. 
 
 wore the precious locket proudly displayed 
 against her trim khaki coat, and she rode in 
 happy excitement, for the trip to her was a 
 great adventure, and there was, in addition, 
 the thrilling novelty of this stranger s coming, 
 who might be a prince in disguise. 
 
 When, at last, the limited roared into the 
 station at Coverdale, and Dan McGrew swung 
 himself down from the Pullman s steps, Jim 
 went forward and seized his visitor s hand in 
 a warm clasp. 
 
 "It s good to see you again, after all these 
 years," he cried heartily. At this moment, 
 there was only kindness in his feeling toward 
 the tall, handsome man who returned his 
 greeting so genially. He meant to be as 
 friendly as he could to this guest, to be helpful 
 and loyal, so far as he might, though the other 
 had no claim upon his friendship, and though 
 he himself had neither liking nor respect for 
 Dan McGrew. 
 
 After the first exchange of exclamations be 
 tween the two, Jim called to Nell, who had 
 remained standing diffidently at a little dis-
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 21 
 
 tance, her deeply tanned face, under the dark 
 masses of hair, tense with interest, as her eyes 
 searched the newcomer in vast curiosity. A 
 great shyness was upon her as she approached. 
 
 "This is my daughter, Nell," Jim said, with 
 manifest pride in the winsome creature. 
 
 "And Lou s!" the other muttered, under his 
 breath. But Jim caught the words, and was 
 moved to a fleeting pity for the man who had 
 failed in love. 
 
 Nell murmured a stilted phrase in expres 
 sion of her pleasure at meeting Mr. McGrew. 
 But as the stranger bent and kissed her, she 
 felt a sudden instinct of distaste under the 
 caress that both frightened and puzzled her. 
 For, hitherto in her childish experience, em 
 braces and kisses had been matters either of 
 pleasure, as in the case of her father and 
 mother and others dear to her, or of utter in 
 difference, as in the case of those for whom she 
 cared nothing. Now, for the first time, a kiss 
 was disagreeable. She felt herself somehow 
 frightened by this fine gentleman, who might 
 be a prince. She could not understand it.
 
 22 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 The child could not have understood even 
 had she been able to look into the heart of 
 Dangerous Dan McGrew, there to see the 
 black malice that fouled it. 
 
 For such was the fact. There was evil in 
 the mind and in the soul of Dan McGrew. 
 Through all the years since he had lost Lou 
 Ainsworthy, he had longed for her. The cir 
 cumstance that she was married to another 
 man put no curb on his fierce desire for her. 
 Unlawful passion throbbed in his blood. It 
 was this that had driven him to the long jour 
 ney. A man wholly without scruple, without 
 care for any other than himself, save only the 
 woman to possess whom he so craved, Dan 
 McGrew was resolved to woo that woman 
 anew, to win her for himself by any means, no 
 matter how false or vile. 
 
 Thus, it came to pass that, in the days of his 
 dwelling under the roof of the man whom he 
 was determined to wrong, the visitor played 
 the hypocrite with his host, aping a manner 
 of bluff, candid good-fellowship. With the 
 wife, too, he played the hypocrite. He dared
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 23 
 
 not let her so much as suspect the hot fires that 
 burned in him as he looked yearningly on her 
 loveliness. He realized, at the outset, that 
 her devotion to the man of her choice re 
 mained unaltered. He knew that the open 
 confession of his illicit love would move her 
 to scorn and loathing. Only by guile, and 
 that of the craftiest, could he hope for tri 
 umph over loyalty and love. With the pass 
 ing days, the task loomed before him as one 
 almost impossible of achievement. From all 
 that he knew of Jim s past life and all that he 
 could learn concerning the husband s reputa 
 tion in the community, there showed nowhere 
 any least opportunity for attack. And attack 
 must be made, for only by destroying the 
 wife s faith could he have any opportunity to 
 gain her favor. It occurred to him that, in 
 a conspiracy, he would have need of accom 
 plices. To get some information concerning 
 such as might serve his end, he often rode 
 alone to the town, while Jim was occupied 
 with ranch affairs. There, he entered easily 
 into the vulgar dissipations of the place, mak-
 
 24 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 ing himself hail-fellow-well-met with the riff 
 raff of the saloons and dance-houses, both men 
 and women. The occupation was, in truth, 
 congenial enough to him; for there was a 
 coarseness in his nature that found satisfaction 
 in loose living. Before he had been a week 
 at the ranch, he had become known to all the 
 blear-eyed habitues of Murphy s saloon to 
 some of the women frequenters there as well, 
 and to certain men who were not blear-eyed ; 
 for they drank little, but played poker much. 
 With these latter, especially, Dangerous Dan 
 fraternized, since, like many a wiser man and 
 better, he greatly admired poker and his 
 own playing of it. 
 
 Dan won the first day, and the second, and 
 the third as those playing with him meant 
 that he should. But the stakes were small. 
 Dan himself fretted because they were so 
 small. It was his own suggestion, his own in 
 sistence, that the stakes should be raised. Im 
 mediately, then, Dan s luck slumped. It 
 worried him only a little at first more, as the 
 ill fortune continued.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 25 
 
 On the fourth day, Jess, one of the painted 
 women of the place, leaned over him so closely 
 that the heavy musk of her perfume deadened 
 his senses. She whispered her admiration of 
 his play. Dan forgot that she was the wife 
 without the law of Fingie Whalen, who sat 
 across the table from him, ferret-faced and 
 with slender, agile fingers that touched the 
 deck of cards always with the soft delicacy of 
 a caress. Jess s praise fattened Dan s pride in 
 his own skill. He insisted loudly on larger 
 stakes, which were accepted grudgingly by 
 his fellow players. There were four others 
 at the table with him. Despite his experience 
 in cities further East, he had no least suspicion 
 that the odds of the game were four to one. 
 He lost a most attractive pot on a full house 
 of kings with treys. The event angered him. 
 A little later, a pot that had been raised 
 around the board until it was of admirable 
 proportions, was lost by him to one who held a 
 humble, but efficient, flush. 
 
 Dan was not an honest man. His losses 
 irritated him. He believed, by reason of a
 
 26 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 certain dexterity in legerdemain, that he could 
 thus cajole fortune. He misjudged his com 
 pany. When he possessed himself of four 
 aces, and held them concealed in his hand, he 
 failed to note the eyes of Fingie Whalen, 
 which had followed his every movement. 
 
 But this same Fingie, being a master of his 
 craft, said nothing until after the bets had run 
 high and it had come to the show-down. Dan 
 had forced the betting to a point where the 
 chips and bills and gold on the table totaled 
 a most respectable sum. He swept the pot 
 toward him, after a contemptuous glance at 
 the four-of-a-kind which Fingie had offered 
 against him. His own four aces were indis 
 putably winners. 
 
 But Fingie Whalen thrust out an impera 
 tive hand in restraint. 
 
 "Nothin doin I" 
 
 In the same instant, his fingers closed in a 
 viselike grip on Dan s left hand. Dan was 
 the stronger man. But, in the moment of sur 
 prise, his muscles yielded. His hand was 
 pulled forward it lay open on the table.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 27 
 
 Within his palm four cards were lying.. 
 With his free hand Fingie flipped the four 
 cards upon the table. They were inconsid 
 erable a deuce, a nine, a pair of sevens. 
 
 His trickery thus baldly revealed, Dan 
 would have acted, but he was too late. As he 
 pulled the automatic from his pocket, the man 
 next him thrust an elbow forward and the shot 
 went wild. In the next instant, the pistol had 
 been knocked from his grasp, and four men 
 bore down upon him. Dan was a strong man, 
 and, whatever his faults, absolutely fearless. 
 He struck out vigorously, but the slender, silk- 
 ankled foot of Jess caught him so that he 
 stumbled and missed his blow. The fists of 
 the four beat him to the floor. 
 
 It was then that Jim entered the room. He 
 had business in town, and, on learning at the 
 ranch-house that his guest had preceded him, 
 he had felt it incumbent upon him to seek out 
 Dan. He had acted from a rather futile sense 
 of duty toward the man who, as Tom had put 
 it, required the strong hands of a friend to 
 keep him in the straight path.
 
 28 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 At the hotel, he made inquiry of the clerk: 
 "Have you seen anything of Mr. McGrew?" 
 The clerk permitted himself an indulgent 
 grin at the question. He admired Jim Max 
 well, as did all the better element in the com 
 munity, and he found himself wondering over 
 the disreputable associations of the stranger 
 who was the ranch-owner s guest. His an 
 swer was prompt: 
 
 "You re pretty sure to find him in the back 
 room over to Murphy s. Usually, when he 
 hits this burg, he sets in a game with the gang 
 over there." 
 
 Jim s face lined grimly. He felt a great 
 distaste for his mission. He was no precisian. 
 He was not above taking a glass on occasion 
 at Murphy s bar. But he had no liking for 
 the vicious. The coarse debauchery of such 
 a place was repulsive to him, as it must be to 
 any decent man. Nevertheless, he went out 
 of the hotel, and strode rapidly toward the 
 corner on which stood the rough frame build 
 ing of the saloon. As he drew near, the re 
 port of a shot came sharply.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 29 
 
 "What hell s mess is on now?" he muttered 
 savagely, and broke into a run. In the next 
 instant, he had leaped through the door to the 
 back room. He could not see clearly for a 
 few seconds in the gloomy place, after the 
 glaring sunlight of outdoors. But the evi 
 dences of conflict were plain enough from the 
 sounds of stamping boots upon the boarded 
 floor, the soft thudding of fists against flesh, 
 the snarling curses, gaspings and guttural 
 gruntings of the combatants, the shrill screams 
 and whimperings of w T omen. Then his eyes 
 adjusted themselves to the dim light, and he 
 made out the form of Dan McGrew, girt 
 about with the thrashing arms and legs of 
 his assailants. Without any hesitation, Jim 
 plunged into the fray. His fists shot home in 
 sledge-hammer blows, against which the four, 
 taken completely by surprise, were defenseless. 
 As they fell away from their victim, Jim saw 
 the automatic lying where it had fallen on the 
 floor during the scuffle. Before his adver 
 saries could rally to the attack, he had pounced 
 upon it, and had sprung back against the wall
 
 30 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 of the room, whence he menaced the four, who 
 halted in fear of the weapon. 
 
 "There s been enough of this," Jim declared, 
 and his voice was ominous, heavy with au 
 thority. "I don t know the rights of the fuss, 
 and I don t care a damn, I guess. But there ll 
 be no murder done here unless it s been done 
 already." 
 
 There came some profane grumblings from 
 the discomfited quartette, but they ventured no 
 other opposition to Jim s will, for they feared 
 this man, and he knew it, and he did not fear 
 them in the least. 
 
 "We caught im cheatin blast im!" Fin- 
 gie affirmed, sullenly. 
 
 "I m not interested in the history of the 
 row," was the contemptuous retort; "only in 
 the end of it." Jim thrust the revolver in his 
 pocket, assured that there would be no further 
 trouble; for now the bartender and Murphy 
 had made a belated appearance on the scene. 
 He stooped over the beaten man, who had al 
 ready begun to show signs of returning con 
 sciousness. Presently, in fact, Dan was able
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 31 
 
 to sit up, and to swallow the brandy Murphy 
 had brought. His injuries, though painful 
 enough, were superficial, and after a little he 
 was able to clamber into the buggy, which Jim 
 had hired from the hotel livery for the return 
 to the ranch. 
 
 They had gone a mile from the village, 
 when Dan spoke for the first time: 
 
 "It was all a devilish frame-up to rob me," 
 he asserted. His tone was vindictive, but, 
 somehow, not quite convincing. 
 
 Jim could not keep the scorn from his own 
 voice as he answered: 
 
 "You can t complain you knew what sort 
 they were." 
 
 Under the lash of justice in the taunt from 
 the man who had rescued him, Dan McGrew 
 was silent; but the black malice in his heart 
 seethed still more fiercely from quickened 
 fires of hate.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 JIM explained the affair to Lou, with a bit 
 ter emphasis that forbade questioning as 
 to details. 
 
 "Dangerous Dan," he said, unable to avoid 
 a sarcastic inflection on the adjective, "got 
 into a fight at Murphy s. When I arrived, 
 there were four on top of him." 
 
 "And you pulled them off, I suppose," Lou 
 said, her lips curving to a smile in which 
 amusement blended with admiration for the 
 stalwart man who had spoken so curtly. 
 
 "I can t say that I exactly pulled them off," 
 Jim answered, with a faint responsive smile. 
 "Anyhow, I managed to get them off him, one 
 way or another. That s the reason he s here 
 now worse luck!" 
 
 In the days that followed, Dangerous Dan 
 played the hypocrite to perfection. He went 
 no more to town. With Jim, he was all 
 
 32
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 33 
 
 amiability, full of reminiscences concerning 
 the long-ago, when they had pranked together 
 in the devious ways of boys. Indeed, he was 
 so agreeable that Jim found himself at least 
 tolerant of the company of this guest, for 
 whom, without any obligation whatsoever, he 
 had assumed some measure of responsibility. 
 For he remembered always that phrase in the 
 letter Tom had written him: "And I think 
 he requires the strong hands of a friend to 
 keep him in the straight path." He felt an 
 onerous responsibility for the visitor whom 
 fate thrust upon him, though he detested that 
 responsibility and the man. 
 
 It was the time of the harvest. Jim was 
 busy with overseeing a multitude of details 
 in the gathering of the crops. Often, he was 
 away from the house from dawn to dark. 
 Nell, too, was frequently absent, for she de 
 lighted in the activities of men and horses and 
 machines in the fields. On her pony, she 
 spent hours in her father s company. The 
 consequence was that Dan McGrew enjoyed 
 unlimited opportunities of association with his
 
 34 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 host s wife. Necessarily, the intimacy of their 
 former relations had its effect on their present 
 intercourse. Indeed, Dan made a habit of 
 half-jesting, half-sentimental references to 
 that time when he had wooed so vainly. The 
 phrase was often on his lips: 
 
 "Do you remember, Lou, when we were 
 sweethearts ?" 
 
 Lou, for her part, undoubtedly found some 
 thing pleasant in the situation. Dan showed 
 himself at his best toward her. Since he 
 knew the utter hopelessness at this time of win 
 ning her from her allegiance, he strove to hide 
 from her any expression of the passion that 
 burned within him, though the effort taxed 
 his strength of will to the utmost. But, be 
 cause of his restraint, Lou was unsuspicious as 
 to the visitor s designs, and accepted Dan s 
 proffer of innocent friendship. He was an 
 amiable and entertaining companion, an 
 agreeable variation from the somewhat mo 
 notonous loneliness of the ranch-house; espe 
 cially at this season of the year, when husband 
 and daughter alike so constantly deserted her.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 35 
 
 Certainly, she knew that her guest was her 
 lover as well. But the fact did not militate 
 against him in her regard. On the contrary, 
 it gave piquancy to their companionship. 
 The unvarying manner of respect for her as 
 his friend s wife lulled suspicion. She sym 
 pathized with him for his failure in attain 
 ing the desire of his heart. A mild feminine 
 vanity found gratification in the presence of 
 one so humbly devoted. She had no shred of 
 liking for him, in any deeper sense. Some 
 times, indeed, of an evening, when the three 
 were together under the lights of the living- 
 room, she found herself comparing the two 
 men. She admitted that, in a superficial way, 
 Dan was perhaps the handsomer. His fea 
 tures were as clearly cut as those of some 1 
 Roman emperor. The eyes, set wide-apart, 
 gave dignity to his expression. There was in 
 his air always a suggestion of ruthless strength, 
 even of lawlessness, as of one who would wreak 
 his will, reckless of consequence. It was that 
 quality which in his boyhood had won him the 
 name of Dangerous Dan. He had been given
 
 3 6 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 over to escapades, to exploits of daring 
 prowess, to fights against odds for the sheer 
 love of fighting. In bodily strength and the 
 usual manly qualities, the two men were well 
 matched. Lou could see little to choose be 
 tween them. But her comparison ended al 
 ways in a great welling of love for her hus 
 band. There was in his expression a kindli 
 ness, in no way \veakness, that the other lacked. 
 And there was, too, something subtle, a qual 
 ity of the soul, to be felt, though not to be seen 
 or described, by those with whom he came in 
 contact. It occurred to Lou once, as she thus 
 meditated while the men talked together, that 
 Jim s love for music, together with his skill 
 in its interpretation, was characteristic of the 
 difference between the tw r o; for to Dan, 
 though he \vas at times swayed easily and 
 deeply by music, the art meant little to him, 
 made no component part in his life. 
 
 Strangely enough, it was Jim s music that, 
 very directly, precipitated a crisis in the situa 
 tion.
 
 THE SHOOTIKG OF DAN McGREW 37 
 
 It was a day of languorous heat from a sun 
 like molten brass. Jim, a little weary after 
 hours among his men, found an opportunity 
 for leisure, and welcomed it. He rode to the 
 ranch-house, and sighed gratefully as he 
 entered the cool-shaded porch, where he 
 found Lou busy with some sewing, while Dan 
 lounged at ease over a pipe. The wife wel 
 comed her husband gladly, and fussed over 
 him, and brought him lemonade. Jim was 
 listless at first from fatigue, and listened lazily 
 to the chatting of his wife and their guest, 
 without taking part. But presently, he felt 
 himself revived, and entered heartily into the 
 talk. Perceiving his increased animation, 
 Lou made a request. 
 
 "If you re not too tired, Jim," she said 
 eagerly, "I wish you would play over that 
 melody you worked out the day you received 
 Tom s letter. I do hope you remember it," 
 she continued, with a little catch of anxiety 
 in her voice. "Bits of it have been running 
 in my head all day."
 
 38 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 Jim rose obediently, with a smile for his 
 wife. As their eyes met, Lou smiled mis 
 chievously. 
 
 "Perhaps, you will remember it began with 
 a great lot of startling chords. But you don t 
 need to repeat them." 
 
 Jim grinned appreciatively. 
 
 "I m not in the mood for those chords, as 
 you politely term them, to-day. But I think 
 I have that song still in my head and in my 
 heart." The last words were spoken softly. 
 
 From the living-room, a moment later, 
 came a ripping charm of arpeggios that in 
 their sequence told softly of the melody to 
 come. Then, soon, the air itself sounded in 
 its joyous, lilting rhythm of a passionate ten 
 derness. 
 
 It was plain that the player was telling the 
 truth of his heart. The music made a rhap 
 sody of love. Deep within it was a whisper 
 of spiritual things, of things sacred. But, 
 too, the weaving notes made a mesh of sensu 
 ous splendor. There was a voluptuous spell 
 in the throbbing cadences.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 39 
 
 It was the sensual witchery of the music 
 that probed the emotions of Dan McGrew, 
 and beat them to swirling revolt against the 
 calmness he had striven to maintain. The 
 finer, nobler meaning of the love-lyric touched 
 him not at all. But the sorcery of that ex 
 quisite voluptuousness thrilled in his blood. 
 He sat watching the woman, and his eyes were 
 aflame. The enchantment of the melody was 
 upon her as well. Body and soul, she re 
 sponded in her mood to the mood of the 
 player, whom she loved, even as he loved her.. 
 The oval of her cheeks bore a deepened rose. 
 The red curves of the lips bent to a tremu 
 lous smile. The dark glory of her eyes shone 
 more radiantly, as she stared, unseeing, into 
 the distance. The lithe, gracious form was 
 become tense in this moment of absorbed feel 
 ing. Never had Dan McGrew seen her so 
 wonderfully alive, so vibrant of emotion, so 
 beautiful, so desirable, so altogether adorable. 
 With the beat of the music lashing on desire, 
 the spectacle of the woman s loveliness fed 
 the flames of longing, until the fires of his
 
 40 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 passion consumed utterly the will that would 
 have held them in control. The music soft 
 ened at last to a mere breath of beautiful 
 sound. Then, a clangor of triumphant har 
 monies and silence. 
 
 Lou rose quickly, and went into the living- 
 room. 
 
 In his fevered imagination, Dan McGrew 
 could see the caress between husband and 
 wife, and, though he continued to sit immo 
 bile, staring dazedly at the spot where a mo 
 ment before the woman had been, wrath 
 surged in him against that other man. By so 
 much as his love for the woman welled in him, 
 by so much the tide of his hate mounted. 
 For a long time, he sat there, through ages of 
 torture, as it seemed to him. He heard Jirn 
 go out of the house by the back way. Soon 
 afterward, there came to his ears the clatter 
 of a horse s hoofs on the gravel of the drive, 
 and he knew that the ranch-owner was off 
 again to the fields, though he did not look up 
 to see. With mad eagerness, he was await 
 ing the woman s return. Reason no longer
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 41 
 
 had any hold on his mood. He was helpless 
 in the clutch of passion. The music had 
 softened the fibers of resolve. The allure-^ 
 ment of the love-light that had shone from 
 Lou s face while she sat listening, had drawn 
 his desire of her into a vortex that held him 
 powerless against its rush. He had no plan 
 of action, no thought as to what his course 
 should be. He was conscious only of an in 
 tolerable need of this woman. As the min 
 utes passed, and still she did not return, the 
 longing mastered him completely. He got 
 to his feet, with unaccustomed awkwardness, 
 and went into the living-room with shambling 
 steps wholly unlike his usual elastic tread. 
 He moved falteringly, as might one in the 
 dark in a strange place. For, in truth, the 
 mists of passion had settled on his spirit, 
 shrouding and blinding him. 
 
 Lou was reclining in a low easy chair, 
 within a nest of cushions. In the abandon 
 ment of her posture, the suave grace of her 
 body s lines, still maidenly, rather than ma 
 tronly, despite her full womanhood, were
 
 42 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 clearly revealed to the man s avid eyes. On 
 her face was still the expression of rapturous 
 tenderness that was not for him, which, never 
 theless, had enthralled him. Dan McGrew, 
 in this hour of folly, was bereft of judgment 
 utterly. The woman there in the chair, who 
 did not even turn her head toward him as he 
 entered, was a loadstone that drew toward 
 her irresistibly every atom of the blood rac 
 ing in his veins. He went toward her with 
 out any hesitation or faltering now. All the 
 life in him seemed in this instant to be at its 
 best, potent as never before, and not to be de 
 nied. So, he moved forward lightly and 
 swiftly. Before the woman had so much as 
 guessed his presence there beside her, he had 
 stooped and taken her in his arms. 
 
 Lou cried out sharply under the shock of 
 fear in the first second, when the man s arms 
 closed about her. But, in the next instant, as 
 she felt herself lifted bodily from her place, 
 and crushed against Dan s breast, a horrible 
 fear beset her that sapped her strength, and 
 left her limp within the fierce embrace. Her
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 43 
 
 face was suddenly become pallid. She was 
 half-swooning under the dreadfulness of the 
 thing that had befallen. Dan rained kisses on 
 the golden masses of her hair, from which the 
 delicate perfume penetrated his senses, and in 
 flamed him to new madness. He loosened his 
 clasp upon her body, in order to raise the 
 white face to his lips. But then, at last, the 
 energies of the woman were suddenly restored. 
 A hot flush of mingled shame and anger dyed 
 face and throat. The heavy lids lifted from 
 the dark eyes, which now were blazing. Her 
 body tensed, then w r rithed in an abrupt, vio 
 lent effort for freedom. Her action caught 
 the man unawares. She slipped from his 
 arms, and darted behind the chair in which 
 she had been sitting, so that its bulk was in 
 terposed as a barrier between them. 
 
 "Oh, you have dared !" She broke off, 
 choking over the humiliation of such an out 
 rage against her womanhood. She was pale 
 and flushed by turns. Her body was racked 
 by convulsive shudderings. She was wounded 
 to the depths of her being.
 
 44 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 Dan, nevertheless, was without compunc 
 tion at sight of her distress. He was still 
 crazed by desire of her a desire only inten 
 sified a thousand-fold by that brief contact of 
 her within his arms. With a great leap, he 
 was upon her before she could flee again, had 
 caught her shoulder, wrenched her about, and, 
 for a second time, swung her to his breast. 
 The shriek she would have uttered was muf 
 fled by his lips on her mouth. 
 
 Jim returned early from the fields that after 
 noon. His heart was fairly singing with hap 
 piness, as he mounted the steps of the house. 
 His love was overflowing. All things in life 
 were perfect to him. He halted on the 
 porch, somewhat surprised that neither Lou 
 nor their guest should be there. He chanced 
 to glance through the window into the living- 
 room. It was the very moment when Dan 
 McGrew held the woman strained to his 
 bosom, his mouth on hers. Jim stared, un 
 comprehending, unbelieving. Then, horror 
 fell upon him, enveloped him in a black pall 
 of agony for his wife lay supine, unresisting,
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 45 
 
 yielding to the kisses that polluted purity. 
 But, in another second, Lou found strength to 
 twist her lips aside, and the cry that had been 
 stifled broke from her. Its appeal was unmis 
 takable in its frantic suffering. Jim heard 
 and understood, and answered with a roar of 
 rage, as he hurled himself through the door 
 and upon the man who thus dishonored him. 
 Lou, released as Dan heard Jim s shout, 
 shrank away, and stood trembling against the 
 wall, while the two men reeled back and forth 
 in a frenzied grapple. Their strength was so 
 well matched that neither at the outset could 
 gain an advantage; for each was keyed to ex 
 treme endeavor by the urge of elemental pas 
 sions at their full. Then, as their lurching 
 bodies sent a massive chair volleying to the 
 floor, Jim s hold was loosened. Dan had time 
 to snatch the automatic from his pocket but 
 not time to use it. Before his arm could be 
 raised to fire, Jim had caught his wrist in a 
 grip not to be broken. A hip-lock threw Dan 
 backward violently against the table that stood 
 on one side of the room. Strong though it
 
 46 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 was, the table yielded under the impact of the 
 two heavy bodies upon it, and went crashing 
 to the floor, with the two men atop the splin 
 tered boards. The force of the fall stunned 
 Dan for a moment. The automatic dropped 
 from his released hand. Jim saw, and seized 
 the weapon. Ere Dan could move, he had 
 scrambled to his feet, where he stood menac 
 ing the fallen man. Perhaps he would have 
 shot his enemy there and then but Lou in 
 terposed. She had watched with dilated eyes 
 the fight between the men who loved her. 
 Her whole feeling had been a desperate 
 prayer for her husband s victory: a prayer 
 made vital by hate against the man who had 
 so grossly insulted her. Now at the end, 
 however, a softer, feminine emotion com 
 pelled her. She leaped forward, and clung 
 to her husband s arm. 
 
 "No, no, Jim!" she implored him. "Don t 
 shoot! Tell him to go. . . . Oh, my God! 
 Tell him to go, Jim." 
 
 Dan clambered clumsily to his feet. The 
 muzzle of the automatic stared at him in vi-
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 47 
 
 cious threat of death. The issue had left him 
 helpless. He was too weak for further com 
 bat, in the reaction from great emotions. He 
 stood with downcast eyes, swaying a little un 
 steadily. 
 
 Jim spoke, his voice metallic: 
 
 "You hear?" he said. "Get out of here, you 
 dog! I ll send your things to the hotel to 
 night. Not a w r ord out of you damn you! 
 or I ll kill you in your tracks." 
 
 Husband and wife stood rigidly motionless, 
 watching. The beaten man ventured no re 
 bellion against the decree. He went out of 
 the room with a stealthy, slinking haste, as 
 though he feared lest the self-restraint of his 
 victor might fail. But in his heart was 
 neither remorse nor despair only a fiercer 
 hatred of the man, a fiercer love of the woman.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 the porch, Dan caught up his hat, 
 which had been lying on the chair, and 
 hastened to the stables. He did not scruple 
 now to make use, for the journey to the vil 
 lage, of the horse which he had been accus 
 tomed to ride. As he trotted down the drive 
 way, he encountered Nell, mounted on her 
 pony. The girl s gypsy-like face was flushed 
 from a brisk canter under the hot sun, and her 
 black eyes shadowed by the long, curling 
 lashes, were sparkling with the joy of life. 
 She called out cheerily in inquiry whether her 
 father was at the house. Dan called a curt, 
 "Yes," in answer, without checking his pace. 
 But, as the two came abreast, the girl s glance 
 took in the haggard fury on the man s face, 
 and the fearfulness of it fell like a blight 
 on her gladness. She was terror-stricken, 
 without in the least understanding why. For 
 his part, Dan McGrew rode on his way 
 
 48
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 49 
 
 with an added curse for this innocent child. 
 Dan McGrew registered at the hotel in 
 the village, with a careless announcement 
 to the clerk that the loneliness of the ranch 
 had outworn his patience, and that his 
 luggage would be along presently. Then, 
 after he had been fortified with a solitary 
 drink at the bar, he betook himself to his cell- 
 like room, which was the best the hotel af 
 forded, and there gave himself over to evil 
 plotting. As a result, when night had fallen 
 he sent a message by the hotel porter to Fin- 
 gie Whalen, who at this hour would doubtless 
 be found somewhere about Murphy s. Un 
 der the circumstances, naturally enough, he 
 deemed it a measure of prudence not to visit 
 Murphy s, where he would be at the mercy 
 of the men from whom Jim had saved him. 
 He was sure, however, that Fingie would not 
 permit any false delicacy to stand in the way 
 of possible gain. He had decided that he 
 could make use of the gambler, and of the 
 gambler s painted woman, Jess, and he meant 
 to bribe the pair to his purpose.
 
 50 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 Fingie came promptly. Within fifteen 
 minutes from the dispatching of the porter, 
 there came a heavy knock at Dan s door, and 
 in response to a summons to enter, the squat 
 form and lowering face of the gambler ap 
 peared. He grinned evilly at Dan, and 
 swaggered forward truculently. 
 
 "What in hell are you up to?" he demanded, 
 as he came to a standstill, facing his host, who 
 remained sprawling in a chair, seemingly 
 quite at ease. Dan had determined precisely 
 on how to conduct himself in the interview. 
 So, now, he waved his hand hospitably toward 
 a bottle of whiskey which, with a jug of water 
 and glasses, stood on the table. 
 
 "Help yourself," he exclaimed genially, 
 "and sit down. I want to have a talk with 
 you." 
 
 "You ll have to do some mighty tall talkin 
 to get rid of them extra four kyards I seen 
 with my own eyes," Fingie retorted. He ap 
 proached the table, however, without any re 
 luctance, where he helped himself liberally 
 before seating himself.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 51 
 
 Dan made his explanations glibly. 
 
 "I got on to the fact that I was getting the 
 bad end of a crooked deal in that card game. 
 . . . Now, hold your horses!" he commanded, 
 as Fingie scowled and would have spoken. 
 "I don t mean anything for you to get mad 
 about. Only, the four of you were doing me 
 up. I had too much of Murphy s dope, and 
 tried a silly trick. It failed, as it ought to 
 have failed, and I was in bad. I m sorry, and 
 I want you to let bygones be bygones. You 
 bruised me up good and plenty, if that s any 
 satisfaction to you, and, besides, you got my 
 money. Not quite all of it, however!" he 
 added suggestively. He noted with satisfac 
 tion the increasing amiability of Fingie s ex 
 pression, and the avaricious glint in the ferret 
 eyes of the man at the concluding w r ords. 
 
 "What s the game?" Fingie demanded 
 bluntly. 
 
 Dan forthwith revealed in detail the work 
 he required to be done. He felt himself safe 
 in being candid with this accomplice, w r ho was 
 wholly free from any moral restraints, and
 
 5 2 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW. 
 
 who, as he now made known with many oaths, 
 was still suffering from a swollen jaw, the 
 result of one of Jim s blows. In fine, the 
 gambler entered into the conspiracy with such 
 evident zest that Dan was able to make a bet 
 ter bargain than he had expected for his serv 
 ices and those of his mistress. For an hour, 
 the two discussed the vicious plot, and then, 
 at Dan s bidding, Fingie went in quest of the 
 woman, Jess. Presently, he returned with 
 her, and she, too, was stirred to pleasurable 
 anticipations of the evils to be wrought 
 through her aid. For, on one occasion, she 
 had cast languishing and provocative glances 
 on Jim Maxwell, which he had returned with 
 a look in which pity could not conceal re 
 pugnance. 
 
 There was a round of drinks for the three, 
 and then Dan made his payment to the gam 
 bler. This done, Jess was seated at the table 
 with writing materials, and took from Dan s 
 dictation a note, which she wrote in her nat 
 ural hand, without any effort toward disguise, 
 and signed with her own name. When, at
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 53 
 
 last, the worthy pair took their leave, that note 
 remained in the possession of their host. 
 
 Dangerous Dan s activities for the day were 
 not yet completed. Within an hour, he was 
 astride a horse from the hotel livery, riding 
 rapidly toward the Maxwell ranch. When 
 he was within a quarter of a mile from the 
 house, he dismounted, and hid his horse be 
 hind some bushes by the roadside. He w r ent 
 forward on foot cautiously, for it was moon 
 light, and objects were clearly discernible. 
 Yet, he had little apprehension of being ob 
 served, for he knew the customs of the place: 
 that, though it still lacked an hour to mid 
 night, the household would doubtless be fast 
 asleep. There were dogs, it was true, which 
 ran at large; but with these Dan had made 
 friends, and they would raise no outcry against 
 him, though he came with malignant pur 
 pose. 
 
 Dan, after he reached the lawns that spread 
 before the house, picked his way so as to keep 
 within the shadows of the trees and shrub 
 beries. He avoided the gravel of the drive
 
 54 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 and the walks, going noiselessly over the turf. 
 The dogs charged upon him, welcoming, but 
 gave no alarm. Burglary was a thing almost 
 unknown in this region, and the ranch-house, 
 as Dan knew, was left quite unprotected from 
 thievery or worse. The prowler, when he 
 had come to the porch, took off his shoes, and 
 then crept silently up the steps, and on to a 
 window of the living-room. As he had an 
 ticipated, it was open, though there was a wire 
 screen. Under Dan s hand, the screen was 
 raised. It slid easily along its grooves, and 
 in another moment Dan stepped into the room. 
 Enough moonlight fell through the side win 
 dows for him to see his way distinctly. He 
 crossed to a corner in which was a writing- 
 desk, commonly used by the master of the 
 house for the keeping of papers not sufficiently 
 important for the safe. Conspicuous upon it 
 was lying a letter-case of Russia leather. 
 Dan could distinguish the darker shadow of 
 its outline upon the surface of oak. With a 
 deft certainty of movement, he took from his 
 pocket the note he had that night dictated to
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 55 
 
 the gambler s woman, and, opening the case, 
 thrust it within one of the compartments. 
 Immediately, he retraced his steps across the 
 room, and climbed out through the window, 
 w r here he paused to lower the screen. When 
 he had descended the porch steps, he sat down 
 on the grass, and put on his shoes again. In 
 due time, he reached his horse, and rode back 
 to the town, filled with unholy joy over the 
 success of his expedition. 
 
 Dan, like many another conscienceless 
 scoundrel, slept soundly after his evil work. 
 Yet, he was early astir, for time pressed, and 
 there was still much to be done toward the 
 accomplishment of his design. He found the 
 morning clear, to his vast relief, since, had 
 rain come, Jim would in all likelihood have 
 remained at the ranch-house, thus shutting off 
 the possibility of Dan s seeing Lou alone, 
 which was his immediate purpose. At once, 
 then, after he had breakfasted, he mounted 
 and rode to the ranch-house boldly. He had 
 no lack of courage, and freely ran the risk of 
 meeting the man whose hospitality he had so
 
 abused. That risk, he knew, must be en 
 countered for the sake of his plan. But he 
 knew, also, that the chances of an encounter 
 were small with the harvest requiring the 
 rancher s presence in the fields. 
 
 As a matter of fact, when he rode up to the 
 house, he neither saw nor heard anything of 
 its master. But, even before he dropped from 
 the saddle, he saw Lou, sitting on the porch 
 with idly folded hands, and with an expres 
 sion of deep melancholy casting its shadows 
 over the delicate loveliness of her face. Dan s 
 heart leaped exultantly. He wondered if, by 
 any chance, the reflex of her mood from yes 
 terday might contain some measure of sadness 
 on his account. The slightest feeling of 
 womanly compassion for the culprit might 
 prove invaluable to him in his campaign of 
 treachery. He was annoyed for a moment 
 over the presence of Nell on the porch, play 
 ing with a doll. But a second thought caused 
 him to decide that the child s company at the 
 outset of the interview might be of benefit to 
 him, as likely to place restraint on the mother s
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 57 
 
 expression of anger against him. . . . That he 
 was right in his conjecture, the issue proved. 
 
 At sight of Dan McGrew, riding to the 
 door from which he had been so ignominiously 
 spurned less than twenty-four hours before, 
 Lou Maxwell sat in dazed amazement, which 
 swiftly merged in anger, untinged by any 
 thought of fear. That the man was dan 
 gerous, she knew. But she was no longer to 
 be entrapped by a belief in the self-restraint 
 of this lover. Moreover, she was on her 
 guard now, not unsuspecting, as yesterday. 
 And, too, there were servants within call. 
 These things flashed upon her in the instant of 
 perceiving him. So, she knew that she need 
 not fear anything from him beyond the insult 
 of his presence. But that he should dare thus 
 to approach startled and confounded her by 
 the sheer audacity of the act. She was stu 
 pefied by the effrontery of the man as he dis 
 mounted and ascended the steps toward her. 
 She rose, under a sudden impulse of resent 
 ment, and stood regarding him with a level 
 gaze, wherein was contempt that might have
 
 58 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 caused a weaker man to quail. But Danger 
 ous Dan had the courage of his wickedness, 
 and he was not to be intimidated, or swerved 
 from his design, by her contumely, even 
 though to win her favor was the dearest pur 
 pose of his heart. For the present, he must 
 withstand stolidly the shafts of her disdain, to 
 the end that he might entice her to his will 
 against her own. 
 
 Dan swept the cap from his head, and stood 
 undaunted, yet with an air of humility that 
 was disarming. There was something pitiful 
 in the appealing glance of his eyes, something 
 almost pathetic in the soft tone of humiliation 
 with which he spoke. 
 
 "I want you to forgive me, Lou if you can 
 forgive me for a madness I couldn t help. 
 . . . I m sorry." 
 
 Somehow, the woman was appeased, de 
 spite herself. Her wrath against the man 
 who had affronted her so mortally was no 
 whit lessened; yet, his manner of humble con 
 trition touched her, against her will, to a feel 
 ing of compassion. She still loathed him;
 
 59 
 
 notwithstanding, her mood was unmistakably 
 tinctured by commiseration. She hesitated 
 for a moment, then turned toward Nell, who, 
 with round eyes of wonder, was regarding her 
 mother and their late visitor. 
 
 "Run out in the rose-garden, dear," she said 
 quietly, "and play there for a little while." 
 
 The child went obediently enough, though 
 with obvious reluctance, for her curiosity was 
 aroused. She had passed from sight around 
 the corner of the house before Lou spoke 
 again. Then, she did not mince her words : 
 
 "You have no right either to ask or to ex 
 pect forgiveness," she said sternly. Her voice 
 was very cold, charged with bitter contempt. 
 "You have shown the kind of a man you really 
 are. Nothing can change that. I despise 
 you utterly. I hope I shall never set eyes on 
 you again. I do not wish to hear another 
 word from you. Your presence is hateful to 
 me. Go! My husband may come at any mo 
 ment, and, if he finds you here, he ll kill you 
 on sight, as you deserve." 
 
 With the last words, she turned from him,
 
 60 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 unheeding his exclamation of remonstrance, 
 and went into the living-room. 
 
 Dan did not hesitate to follow her. 
 
 "Let me say this much, at least," he pleaded, 
 still with utmost humility. "I sinned so be 
 cause I loved you so. I could not hold myself 
 back. Forgive me, Lou." His voice was ten 
 derly entreating. 
 
 The woman faced him resolutely. Her 
 eyes were sparkling with wrath, her voice 
 shook a little under the throb of emotion. 
 
 "You, and your love!" she cried, in disgust. 
 "Faugh! Must I summon the servants to put 
 you out of the house?" 
 
 Dan made an appealing gesture. He an 
 swered with a tone of deprecation. 
 
 "No, Lou, you need not do that. I ll go 
 in a moment, and never trouble you again. 
 But, before I go, I must tell you one thing 
 why I lost my self-control yesterday. It w r as 
 because I saw you so tender and fond and de 
 voted and unsuspecting in your love for a 
 man who is unworthy!" 
 
 Lou started involuntarily, then stood rigid,
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 61 
 
 too astounded for speech. But, in another 
 moment, she cried out in vehement rebuke: 
 
 "How dare you speak like that of Jim!" 
 Her tone was virulent; the dark-brown eyes, 
 usually so limpidly soft in their light, flashed 
 with the fires of her anger. "Jim is as clean 
 as you are foul. How dare you insinuate 
 anything against him! Almost, I wish I 
 hadn t interfered to save your life yesterday. 
 Oh, you beast! How dare you!" 
 
 "Because it s true," Dan retorted. He felt 
 now that the situation was well within his 
 grasp, and there was an authoritative ring in 
 his voice that somehow, against her will, 
 caused a chill of apprehension in his listener. 
 He went on speaking swiftly, with incisive 
 earnestness, as one not to be denied. "You 
 see, Lou, I know the truth, and you do not. 
 For example, where is Jim this morning?" 
 
 He shot the question at her with such 
 unexpectedness that she answered involuntar- 
 ily: 
 
 "Why, Jim s out in the fields, of course." 
 She realized suddenly the insolence of the
 
 62 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 question, and would have added a scathing re 
 buke. 
 
 But Dan went on imperturbably: 
 
 "Of course, you say that, because you do 
 not know. But he was wise enough to tell 
 you that he must go to town to-day, to attend 
 the meeting of the directors of the bank." 
 
 Lou smiled in derision. 
 
 "To-day is the regular weekly meeting," she 
 said, with an inflection of dawning curiosity, 
 which Dan noted complacently. "He always 
 goes to the bank-meeting. Why shouldn t he?" 
 
 "No reason at all," was the suave response. 
 "But there is every reason in decency why he 
 should not go to another place, of which you 
 know nothing." He spoke in a voice that was 
 significant, grave, portentous. "That s where 
 he is now." 
 
 "You mean something something nasty, I 
 suppose," the wife exclaimed. Her tone was 
 full of abhorrence for this traducer of the 
 man she loved and trusted. "I ll listen to 
 none of your lies against Jim, Dan Mc- 
 Grew.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 63 
 
 "I chanced on some information in the town 
 last night," Dan persisted, undismayed by her 
 outbreak. "I have heard gossip before. 
 There s a woman one of the sort you good 
 women shrink from. She had been drinking 
 too much. She let drop something about the 
 rich man who was coming to visit her to-day, 
 and she said his name was Jim." 
 
 Lou felt a tremor of fear. The jealousy 
 that sleeps or wakes in the heart of all lovers 
 stirred \vithin her for the first time. She 
 sought to stifle it, ashamed of even a thought 
 of doubt as to her husband s loyalty. It was 
 monstrous that she should be thus moved by 
 slanderous accusations of one for whom she 
 had only contempt. Again, she would have 
 spoken, but the man forestalled her. 
 
 "The woman, whose name is Jess, was 
 bragging in her cups that her lover, Jim, al 
 ways came when she sent for him. And she 
 said she had written him Jim to visit her 
 to-day." 
 
 The speaker s sneering assurance, his malig 
 nant emphasis on her husband s name, filled
 
 64 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 the measure of the wife s wrath full to over 
 flowing. She advanced a step, raised her 
 right arm, and with all her strength struck the 
 palm of her hand across Dan s cheek. 
 
 "Liar!" she cried, savagely. 
 
 The man did not flinch under the blow. 
 The eyes of the two clashed, and held steadily. 
 Dan s cheek whitened where the stroke had 
 fallen, then burned redly. It was the woman s 
 gaze that dropped at last, and Dan smiled, 
 cynically exultant. 
 
 "I don t ask you to believe me," he said im 
 pressively. "I only ask you to open your eyes 
 to the truth. I suppose Jim would take pains 
 to destroy any note from the woman, Jess. 
 But there s always a chance. Men get care 
 less when they have wives that are so very 
 trusting." His sharp eyes perceived a lessen 
 ing tension in the woman s form, a growing 
 listlessness in the expression of her face. He 
 knew that there had come a reaction from the 
 strain of her emotions, that her will was grow 
 ing impotent, that now, at last, she would be 
 pliant to his purpose.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 65 
 
 He strode to the desk, and drew out the 
 letter-case, while Lou watched his every move 
 ment narrowly, as though she expected some 
 trickery, while powerless further to combat 
 him. Her loyalty to Jim was no less, but her 
 powers of resistance had snapped. So, she 
 looked on as Dan fumbled for a moment 
 among the papers in the letter-case, and then 
 held out to her the note that the woman had 
 written in his room at the hotel, the night 
 before. 
 
 Lou took it rather gropingly, in mechanical 
 obedience, because of the utter weariness that 
 was fallen upon her. She read it with eyes 
 that were dimmed and again. Then, she 
 stood staring still at the page of coarse paper 
 with its rudely scrawled lines, with its words 
 of vile insinuation; but her gaze was unsee 
 ing. The man s voice came to her very 
 faintly, as from a great distance. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "It s all a lie, of course," Lou said, feebly. 
 "But I don t understand." 
 
 The cynical exultation in Dan s smile grew.
 
 66 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 At last, he was bold enough to bring the af 
 fair to a crisis. 
 
 "Do you dare to ride with me to the town, 
 to test the thing for yourself?" 
 
 "Do I dare?" Lou repeated, arousing in 
 some degree from her apathy. "What do you 
 mean?" 
 
 "I mean just that," he said. His voice was 
 intentionally brutal. "You ve begun already 
 to be afraid of the truth. Do you dare to 
 ride to town with me, and so test the truth with 
 your own eyes?" 
 
 The taunt provoked her to a new anger, to a 
 new strength. Once again, the slender form 
 grew tense, the head was raised proudly. Her 
 voice came harshly. There was no note of 
 fear in it now, only a great disdain and some 
 thing of cruelty. 
 
 "I will ride with you, Dan McGrew," was 
 her answer, "to find my husband, and I shall 
 tell him what you ve said, and he ll kill you. 
 Now, do you dare?" 
 
 "I dare," the man said, quietly. "Let s go."
 
 DAN McGREW had plotted with dev 
 ilish cleverness. He had seized on the 
 fact of Jim s attendance at the bank-meeting 
 as timely to his purpose. He had, indeed, 
 made it the pivot about which the details of 
 his scheming were grouped. As a result of 
 his carefulness in planning, during the hour of 
 his interview with Lou, Fingie Whalen was 
 stationed in the street outside Murphy s saloon. 
 He sat on a bench that stood against the wall 
 of the structure, and smoked incessant ciga 
 rettes, the while his ferret eyes scanned closely 
 the length of the main street, down which Jim 
 Maxwell must ride on his way to the bank. 
 Just before him, a saddled horse stood pa 
 tiently, with the bridle-rein trailing. Within 
 the saloon, Jess, also, waited with a drink, as 
 well as a cigarette, to comfort her in the iiv 
 terval. Thus, it befell that, when Jim Max- 
 
 67
 
 68 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 well came riding briskly into the town, his ap 
 proach was noted from afar by eyes hired for 
 the purpose. Instantly, then, Fingie acted. 
 He sprang up, and darted into the back room 
 of the saloon, where he called Jess s name, and 
 beckoned. The response of the woman was 
 no less prompt. She stood up quickly, and 
 hurried out of the place, while Fingie himself 
 remained to peer anxiously from the window 
 that gave on the street. There, for a minute, 
 he observed events outside. Afterward, he 
 lounged against the bar with a gratified smirk. 
 Jim, as he rode slowly down the main street, 
 idly noted the woman who hastened out of 
 Murphy s, and mounted astride the horse. 
 He wondered a little that she did not start 
 away. But, as he drew closer, his keen eyes 
 perceived that the form of the woman was 
 swaying unsteadily in the saddle. Alarmed 
 for her safety, though with a suspicion that 
 only excess of drink ailed her, Jim quickened 
 his horse s pace too late. Before he could 
 reach her, the woman lurched, and fell heavily 
 to the ground, where she lay motionless, evi-
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 69 
 
 dently stunned, if not more seriously injured, 
 while the startled horse backed away snuffing. 
 
 Jim was on the ground almost as quickly as 
 the woman herself, and was beside her before 
 the few others in the street who came running. 
 He did the natural thing under the circum 
 stances, precisely as Dan McGrew had ex 
 pected that he would. Since the woman lay 
 with closed eyes, showing no signs of con 
 sciousness, unless in the faint moaning that is 
 sued from her rouged lips, Jim lifted her in 
 his arms, and bore her through the side door, 
 which Fingie had thoughtfully left ajar, into 
 the back room of Murphy s saloon. ... It 
 was at this moment that the gambler left the 
 window to lounge unconcernedly against the 
 bar. Jim carried his burden to one of the 
 round tables which was empty, and placed her 
 gently upon it, continuing to support her with 
 his arms about the waist and shoulders. 
 
 "Bring brandy!" he called out sharply to 
 the nearest of the occupants of the room, who 
 now came crowding forward with ejacula 
 tions of dismay. The man addressed was Fin-
 
 70 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 gie Whalen himself. He stared down at the 
 woman with shocked surprise writ large on 
 his sullen features. 
 
 "Why, it s Jess!" he mumbled, in a voice 
 that he vainly strove to fill with distress. 
 "Whatever has she been an gone, an done?" 
 
 "Get that brandy!" Jim reiterated the 
 command curtly. 
 
 "Yes, sir," Fingie answered humbly, and 
 hurried off to the bar. In a moment, he was 
 back with the liquor, which he held to the 
 woman s lips. To Jim s relief, Jess swal 
 lowed the draft easily enough to tell the 
 truth, rather greedily; but of that fact her 
 rescuer was quite unaware, and from it he 
 augured well. 
 
 Jess managed her apparent recovery from 
 the effects of the fall with such art as she 
 possessed, which, in truth, was not of the 
 highest, though ample for the beguiling of a 
 man who was honest and kindly and wholly 
 unsuspecting. Soon, her eyes unclosed a lit 
 tle, and she breathed more deeply, and the 
 moaning, which had been interrupted by the
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 71 
 
 brandy, was resumed more vigorously. 
 Through the paint on her cheeks showed the 
 deeper red of a genuine flush, the natural re 
 sult of the dram, but a sure evidence of vi 
 tality, none the less. Jim rejoiced over these 
 signs of restoration, and even smiled on Fin- 
 gie, as he bade him continue the charing of 
 the woman s hands. 
 
 "She s not seriously hurt," he remarked, 
 with much satisfaction in his voice; "though 
 the way she flopped off that horse was enough 
 to jar her teeth loose." Being ignorant of the 
 fact that Jess had been a member of a circus 
 troupe before she yielded to the blandishments 
 of the gambler, Jim wondered mightily that so 
 severe a fall should have had no worse effect. 
 
 Jess opened her eyes wide, and stared up 
 blankly into the face of the man who held her 
 in his arms. 
 
 "Where am I?" she asked, with the lan 
 guid air of her favorite stage heroine when 
 swooning. 
 
 "It s all right," Jim hastened to explain 
 soothingly, having due regard to her dazed
 
 condition. "You were dizzy for a second, I 
 suspect, and fell from your horse. But there 
 doesn t seem to be anything much the matter, 
 and you ll be all right in a jiffy." He ad 
 dressed Fingie. 
 
 "Bring her another nip of the brandy." 
 The gambler would have remonstrated 
 against this unnecessary extravagance, but 
 could find no plausible reason for refusal, and 
 Jess, who was enjoying herself hugely, offered 
 him no assistance. When the drink had been 
 brought, she swallowed it without too much 
 display of eagerness, and coughed as a lady 
 should who is unaccustomed to strong waters. 
 At once thereafter, she straightened up to a 
 sitting posture on the table, though she still 
 accepted the support of Jim s arms to his dis 
 comfiture, and regarded him with coquettish 
 glances of gratitude, which were offensive to 
 him, and to Fingie Whalen as well. He tried 
 to withdraw his arms, but she leaned upon him 
 too heavily, and he was forced for a few min 
 utes longer to retain her in a passive embrace. 
 But, as he repeated the effort tentatively, Jess
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 73 
 
 bethought herself that her recovery had now 
 advanced so far as to make such support un 
 necessary. Therefore, to play her part, she 
 withdrew herself, and sat up unassisted, but 
 with a hand to her brow to indicate that her 
 brain had not yet wholly cleared. 
 
 "Oh, you have been so good to me, Mister!" 
 she gushed. "I shall be thankful to you to 
 my dying day. Why," she added in a burst 
 of imagination, "the horse might have stepped 
 on me, if you hadn t been right there to save 
 
 me." 
 
 "Nothing like that, I m sure," Jim declared, 
 as amiably as he could contrive. "The horse 
 seemed to be doing his best not to step on you 
 without any help from me. You don t owe 
 me any thanks, really." 
 
 Jess put out an appealing hand. It was ac 
 cepted reluctantly by Jim, and, with his as 
 sistance, and that of Fingie on the other side, 
 she got down from the table totteringly, and 
 sank into a chair, where she sat limply, with 
 closed eyes, following her role devotedly to 
 the end.
 
 74 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 "You ll have a drink with us, Mr. Max 
 well," Fingie urged, twisting his lowering fea 
 tures to an expression of affability. "What s 
 past is past an done. You sure did give me 
 an almighty swat on the jaw t other day, but 
 I ain t one to nuss no grouch, an Jess here, an 
 me, we re plumb grateful for yer kindness to 
 her this mornin . What ll you have, Mr. 
 Maxwell? I ll bring it." 
 
 Jim shook his head in refusal. He, too, 
 had no wish to nourish a grudge; but he had 
 no liking for the gambler less for the woman, 
 whose tawdry airs nauseated him. He was 
 already a little disgusted, with the episode, 
 and desirous to end it. 
 
 Jess saw the refusal in his face, and was 
 quick to intervene; for failure now would 
 mean the utter collapse of all their plotting. 
 She spoke gently, and, in the genuineness of 
 her anxiety, her voice trembled with appeal : 
 
 "Please, sir please, Mr. Maxwell!" she be 
 sought him. 
 
 Jim, in spite of his repulsion, was touched 
 by the woman s earnestness. His sense of
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 75 
 
 chivalry impelled him to yield to a plea so 
 natural and so ingenuous on her part He 
 smiled, a bit wryly, in answer to her imploring 
 look, and nodded assent. 
 
 "I ll have a glass of beer," he said to Fin- 
 gie, and, as the gambler hurried off to the bar, 
 he seated himself at the table beside Jess. 
 
 The woman prattled nervously, made gar 
 rulous by the brandy, and by fatuous ambition 
 to impress this aloof companion with her 
 charms. As a matter of fact, the conspiracy 
 came perilously near to failure in consequence 
 of her chatting, which almost drove Jim to 
 flight. His instinct of politeness, however, 
 conquered inclination, and he remained in his 
 place, listening with a forced semblance of 
 interest to hide how desperately he was bored. 
 Yet, throughout, he rested without a faintest 
 suspicion that this affair was aught beyond the 
 innocent thing it seemed. To him, the hap 
 pening was merely a nuisance nothing more, 
 nothing in any wise sinister. It did not occur 
 to him to wonder why Fingie should have 
 volunteered to serve as their waiter. He did
 
 76 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 not trouble even to follow the gambler with 
 his eyes, as the fellow went to the bar. 
 
 For that matter, it would have availed Jim 
 nothing, had he watched never so closely. 
 The card-sharp possessed the dexterity of his 
 trade. Those long, slender, mobile fingers of 
 his had been fashioned by fate for a surgeon, 
 a conjurer, a gambler, or a pick-pocket. Not 
 even the keen-eyed bartender, who was close 
 to him, noticed the tiny vial in Fingie s hand, 
 as it hovered over the frothing glass of beer 
 on the counter, or saw the trickle of the color 
 less drops into the brew. So, the gambler 
 came back to the table presently, with a tray, 
 on which were two glasses of brandy one for 
 himself, of generous size; the other for Jess, 
 so tiny that she frowned indignantly at sight 
 of it and the glass of beer for Jim. The 
 three drank together. . . . Then, the gambler 
 and his woman watched avidly for what 
 should befall. 
 
 There was no delay. Jim, glad that the 
 ordeal was at last done, would have risen to 
 leave. But a strange lethargy held him fast-
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 77 
 
 bound. A black cloud descended on his 
 brain ; thought ceased. Suddenly, he slumped 
 in his chair. His arms dropped heavily on 
 the table. His head fell on them. Fingie 
 and Jess chuckled aloud in gloating over the 
 inert form of the man. They were not afraid 
 lest he hear them, now.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THERE was not a word exchanged be 
 tween Lou and Dan on their ride from 
 the ranch-house to the town. For his part, 
 the man was filled with rejoicing over the tri 
 umph that he anticipated. He had no fear 
 of failure. The ingenuity of his plot insured 
 success. Its strength lay in the seeming sim 
 plicity of the events that would lead to the 
 desired climax. Dan s only doubt had been 
 concerning his ability to hold the woman to 
 his will, and to make her play her vital part 
 in his machinations. He had realized that 
 he would have need of all his wit to secure 
 from her even a hearing of his accusations 
 against the man she loved. By his arts, he 
 had enticed her into listening, and by reason 
 of the very indignation thus aroused, he had 
 warped her mood to his purpose. So, he 
 went forward full of confidence as to the out- 
 
 78
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 79 
 
 come, exultant, heedless of the misery of the 
 woman who rode by his side. 
 
 That misery was poignant. At intervals, 
 wrath flamed high in her, and she longed for 
 the moment when she should bring the two 
 men face to face, that the slanderer might re 
 ceive the punishment he merited from the one 
 maligned. But, oftener, her emotion dropped 
 into abysses of despair. There had been 
 something unspeakably revolting to her 
 wifely instincts in the tawdry phrases of the 
 ill-written note, signed "Your loving Jess." 
 Her spirit writhed as she recalled the words, 
 so damning in their explicitness: "Shall ex 
 pect you at the usual time. Don t let your 
 trusting Lou keep you away, as I can t do 
 without you." The wife found herself com 
 pelled to fight with all her energies against 
 the demon of doubt that so hideously beset 
 her. That note had been addressed to "Dear 
 est Jim." And Jim was her husband s name, 
 and the note had been lying in his letter-case. 
 And, if these things of themselves were not 
 enough to sap faith, there was the sneering
 
 8o THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 use of her own name: "Don t let your trust 
 ing Lou keep you away." The distracted 
 wife told herself a hundred times that her be 
 lief in the loyalty of her husband remained un 
 shaken, but it was not so. She lied to herself, 
 from very horror of the truth. Only by fierce 
 and incessant denials of the doubt that welled 
 in her could she repel the assaults of despair. 
 Of the man beside her, she thought hardly at 
 all, except in the fitful and constantly lessen 
 ing flashes of her anger. Her thought was for 
 the husband, with a pitiful wondering over 
 the hateful mystery that had come to pass. 
 Oh, surely, there was some simple explanation 
 of it all there must be! It was a hoax, a 
 jest, some misunderstanding anything! But, 
 though she argued against belief, there re 
 mained always in her consciousness the stub 
 born, sickening facts, and a great dread lay 
 crushingly upon her spirit. The agony of 
 suspense grew unbearable. Her quirt rose 
 and fell in a vicious lash on the flanks of the 
 mare. The astonished thoroughbred leaped 
 and stretched into a run. . . Dan McGrew
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 81 
 
 pressed his own mount forward, to keep pace. 
 
 While the two thus rode toward the town, 
 there was a period of tedious inaction for 
 Dan s accomplices. In the back room of 
 Murphy s saloon, Jess remained impatiently 
 in her seat at the table, with the empty brandy 
 glass before her. She would have liked an 
 other drink, but dared not call for it, since it 
 had been forbidden by her master, because her 
 part in the sordid drama was not yet finished. 
 Beside her, Jim sat motionless, his body 
 sprawled clumsily over the table. He had 
 not stirred since his yielding to the influence 
 of the drug. The only evidence of life about 
 him was the sound of stertorous breathing. 
 The habitues of the place had given no heed 
 to him after a few sneering comments con 
 cerning one who would get drunk so early in 
 the day. 
 
 Fingie Whalen, after he had seen his drops 
 take effect on the victim, went out of the sa 
 loon, and reestablished himself on the bench 
 against the wall, where once again he gave 
 himself over to an unremitting survey of the
 
 82 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 main street, down which any one coming from 
 the ranch must pass. He smoked with nerv 
 ous rapidity, which increased as minute after 
 minute passed, and there was still no sight of 
 those for whom he watched. At the end of an 
 hour, the gambler s impatience had become 
 anxiety. He began to fear failure at the last, 
 when success had seemed assured. It might 
 well be that, in spite of Jess s note, Dan 
 McGrew had been unable to persuade Lou 
 Maxwell into accompanying him. Or as 
 would be equally disastrous they might come 
 too late. Fingie had been as liberal as he 
 dared in the drugging of the beer, but there 
 is a great difference in the reactive powers of 
 various men against such poison. He had not 
 been minded to run any risk of murder. 
 Therefore, he could not tell with precision 
 when Jim Maxwell would recover conscious 
 ness. As the minutes hurried on, Fingie s fear 
 mounted by leaps and bounds. From time to 
 time, he left the bench, and peered in through 
 the window, to reassure himself as to the con 
 tinued unconsciousness of the drugged man.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 83 
 
 Then, at last, as he turned from one of these 
 glimpses through the window, Fingie Whalen 
 saw in the distance the forms of two riders 
 coming at a furious gallop. For a second, he 
 stood staring, to make sure that there was no 
 mistake, that these were in fact those for whom 
 he had waited with such anxiety. In another 
 moment, he became certain that one of the 
 two who approached was Dan McGrew. 
 The flapping of a divided skirt proved that the 
 other rider was a woman. He could no 
 longer doubt that McGrew had succeeded. 
 There needed now only to set the stage for the 
 final scene. For the second time that day, 
 Fingie whirled and darted into the saloon. 
 He caught up from the bar a glass of brandy, 
 which he had left under the barkeeper s 
 charge, since he had not deemed it safe on the 
 table within Jess s reach. He moved now 
 without undue haste, in order to avoid attract 
 ing attention to himself and the others con 
 cerned. When he had reached the table at 
 which Jess and their victim were seated, he 
 put the glass down, with a nod to the woman
 
 84 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 to indicate that the end of the play was now at 
 hand. Jess shoved her chair close to that in 
 which Jim slouched. At the same time, Fin- 
 gie seized the unconscious man by the shoul 
 ders, and lifted the heavy form upright in the 
 chair. Jim yielded limply to the procedure 
 a dead weight in the other s grasp. He was 
 still unconscious. His face was hot and 
 flushed, the face of one under the influence of 
 liquor. His breath still came noisily. Fin- 
 gie, straining under the weight, tilted the flac 
 cid body over a little way, until it rested 
 against the shoulder of Jess, who braced her 
 self to sustain it. Fingie raised Jim s left 
 arm, as the unconscious man reposed thus 
 against the woman at his right, and laid it 
 about her neck. Thus the two remained in 
 an embrace, which bore every evidence of 
 fondness that knew no shame in this public 
 and disreputable place. Jim s head sagged, 
 until it rested upon the woman s bosom. Her 
 right arm was wreathed about him, holding 
 him tenaciously, with all her strength, lest he 
 lurch away from her. With her left hand,
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 85 
 
 she took up the glass of brandy, which Fingie 
 had brought, and held it close to the lips of 
 the unconscious man. 
 
 Such was the business of the piece, as it had 
 been arranged beforehand in each detail by 
 the conspirators. Jess cast a look of inquiry 
 toward the gambler, to learn whether or not 
 the situation met all the requirements of the 
 plot. He gave a brief nod, and grunted ap 
 proval. He heard the clatter of hoofs in the 
 street outside a clatter of hoofs of horses 
 ridden in haste. It ceased just without the 
 door of the saloon. Fingie walked quietly 
 to the bar. A quick glance about showed that 
 the attention of none had been attracted to his 
 movements. He grinned evilly in anticipa 
 tion. . . . From the time when he had first 
 sighted the riders, not more than a half-min 
 ute had elapsed. He leaned against the bar, 
 and stared furtively toward the window that 
 gave on the street. 
 
 Dan McGrew drew close alongside Lou, as 
 the pair pounded down the main street of the 
 town.
 
 86 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 "Stop at the corner, this side of the bank," 
 he called to her. "At Murphy s saloon." 
 
 The woman shivered as her ears caught the 
 words. She knew the character of the noto 
 rious place, which catered to the most de 
 praved tastes of the community. Was it to a 
 resort so ignoble that she must go to refute the 
 slander against her husband? To refute itl 
 Or she broke off her thought, appalled by 
 the terrible alternative. Then, in the follow 
 ing instant, she found herself already abreast 
 of the saloon. She heard her companion s 
 brisk command: 
 
 "Stop here!" 
 
 She obeyed, though, almost, the dread that 
 beat upon her forced her to flee on, and on 
 anywhere away from the horror that menaced. 
 She pulled her mare to a standstill, and got 
 down from the saddle, and let the bridle-reins 
 trail. She moved as one in a dream rather, 
 as one in a nightmare. Yet, now the crisis 
 was upon her, she did not suffer quite so 
 cruelly. Her feeling was numbed, somehow. 
 It was with a certain listlessness in her voice
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 87 
 
 that she addressed Dan McGrew, as he 
 stepped to her side. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "There s no need to go inside," Dan ex 
 plained. "We can see enough, I fancy, 
 through the window. . . . Come!" 
 
 Lou followed obediently whither he led. 
 So the two came to the window, with the dirty 
 glass and its tattered shade raised high, so that 
 whosoever would might look freely on the 
 squalor within. Dan stepped forward and 
 peered into the room for a moment, then 
 turned and beckoned to Lou. . . . And the 
 wife advanced, as he bade her, and looked 
 over his shoulder. 
 
 Lou s eyes, accustomed to the full glare of 
 the noon-day sun, could at first distinguish 
 nothing more than a vague litter of weaving 
 shadows within the murk of the dingy room. 
 Very soon, however, her vision adjusted itself 
 to the dim interior, so that she began to see 
 distinctly. Even in this moment of emotional 
 stress, Lou was conscious of her repugnance 
 at the spectacle of coarsely flaunted vice. She
 
 88 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 noted the line of sodden men loafing along the 
 bar, the few others grouped about the tables 
 with the bedizened and painted women, 
 whose wanton faces, and more wanton man 
 ners, proclaimed their unsavory sort. Yet, 
 her attention was thus arrested for only a 
 fleeting fraction of a second. Then her gaze 
 fell on that other table and she saw her hus 
 band. 
 
 There could be no doubt as to Jim s iden 
 tity. As she recognized him, Lou s dark 
 brown eyes dilated before the fearfulness of 
 this thing. For she saw, as well, every detail 
 of his visible plight. The scene was etched 
 on her consciousness with the acid of horror, 
 there to remain indelible throughout the 
 years. She knew, in the first second of seeing, 
 every feature of the creature within whose 
 arms her husband was lying. She knew the 
 cut and color of the soiled bodice, with its 
 drapery of cheap lace over the bosom on 
 which his loved face reposed. She felt a 
 nausea. There was nothing lovable now in 
 his face. Instead, it was bestial, repulsive
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 89 
 
 the face of a man who had given himself over 
 to gratification of the beast within him, and 
 who was wallowing in the mire of his degra 
 dation. ... So it seemed to Lou Maxwell, 
 as she stood staring, bereft, upon that scene 
 which to her meant the end of all things. 
 The life had gone out of her face. A sick 
 ness as of death clutched at her heart. Sud 
 denly her gauntleted hands caught Dan Mc- 
 Grew s shoulder. Only his quick support 
 saved her from falling. She spoke dully, in 
 a broken whisper: 
 "Take me away."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 LOU was able to climb to her saddle with 
 Dan s assistance, though she moved very 
 feebly, and her white, drawn face was that of 
 one who had been stricken with a mortal hurt. 
 But once safely mounted, with less strain on 
 her muscles, a little strength flowed back into 
 her, so that she sat steadily enough as the two 
 started back at a walk over the way down 
 which they had ridden so furiously. By the 
 time the town was left well behind, the 
 fresh air and the motion had restored her fac 
 ulties in part, both physical and mental. But 
 with the clearing of her brain came an agony 
 of realization almost unendurable. She 
 urged her horse to its full speed, fain to put 
 all distance possible between her and the de 
 testable scene on which she had just looked. 
 Indeed, the instinct of flight in this crisis of 
 her fate was dominant. Her one desire was 
 
 90
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 91 
 
 to flee to the ends of the earth, to escape for 
 ever from all that had been. 
 
 Throughout the years of her life hitherto, 
 Lou had experienced no real anguish. Her 
 sorrows, great though some of them had 
 seemed to her as child and woman, had been 
 essentially trivial, over trivial things. She 
 had never known the ills of poverty. The 
 death of her father had occurred while yet 
 she, the only child, was too young to grieve 
 deeply or long. Her mother s death had oc 
 curred some years after her marriage, when 
 she had been weaned from the old home-life. 
 In truth, all her years had been pleasant ones. 
 The sum of her happiness had been far be 
 yond that of most. The love between her and 
 her husband had been a beautiful one, in 
 which she had found supreme content. It 
 had been crowned by the birth of the child. 
 It had held the promise of serenely joyous 
 years to come. . . . And now, the catastro 
 phe! Here was the end of all things. Doubt 
 of her husband s loyalty had never tainted her 
 devotion. She had believed utterly in his
 
 92 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 cleanness, his wholesome manhood. And 
 now, in an instant, the whole fabric of her life 
 was in shreds, beyond any possibility of re- 
 weaving; befouled beyond any possibility of 
 purifying. All her happiness had been an 
 illusion, the gracious charm of it only a mask 
 that covered the ugly truth. 
 
 Lou had never a doubt concerning that 
 truth. With her own eyes, she had witnessed 
 it. She had seen Jim in drunken debauch 
 with the painted woman, who had boasted 
 that this lover came always at her call. The 
 wife had seen her husband fondled openly by 
 a wanton in a public place, had seen the crea 
 ture holding the glass to that husband s lips. 
 Dan McGrew had plotted well. By his in 
 trigue, he had destroyed absolutely all her 
 faith and happiness. 
 
 The humiliation of the revelation sharp 
 ened the torture. It would not have been 
 quite so terrible, Lou thought, if Jim had 
 loved some woman of a decent sort. But the 
 loathesomeness of being scorned for that in 
 famous woman of the dance-hall ! The
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 93 
 
 wife writhed under the ignominy: that a be 
 ing so sordid should have ousted her from her 
 husband s heart. His infatuation for one so 
 base proved his entire worthlessness. He was 
 but the gross, soiled caricature of her ideal. 
 The idol of gold which she had worshiped 
 was shown to be of clay clay filthy and cor 
 rupt. 
 
 Dan McGrew realized, to some extent at 
 least, the anguish of the woman at whose side 
 he rode. Had it been consistent with his pur 
 poses, he would have spared her that suffer 
 ing. In his way, he sympathized with her 
 keenly. Yet the fact that her grief was 
 wholly of his making, had no cause whatso 
 ever except the visible lie which he had built 
 for her eyes to see the fact that he alone had 
 thrust the iron into her soul troubled Danger 
 ous Dan not at all. He had no remorse, 
 though he pitied her. He was absolutely 
 without compunction for the misery he had 
 wrought Dangerous Dan was a strong man, 
 save for his vices. He was a hard man as 
 well. What he desired, he meant to take, and
 
 94 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 he was ruthless and unscrupulous as to the 
 manner of his taking. More than anything 
 else in the world, he desired to possess for his 
 own Lou Maxwell. To that end, he had con 
 cocted his scheme of villainy. The woman s 
 present agony was a necessary part in the suc 
 cess of his plotting. So, though he was sorry 
 for her whom he had thus fearfully wronged, 
 he felt no vestige of regret only exultation. 
 In his way, Dan McGrew loved Lou. His 
 love for her was, indeed, the chief passion of 
 his life. But his love, like that of many an 
 other man, was wholly selfish. She was 
 necessary to his happiness. That he must de 
 stroy her happiness in order to secure his was 
 of no importance. Moreover, with the ego 
 tism of a strong man, he was confident that he 
 would be able in the days to come to make her 
 happier than she had ever been before. 
 
 Now, on the ride, Dan discreetly kept 
 silence. He could follow well enough the 
 workings of the woman s mood, and he be 
 lieved that it would be unwise at this time to 
 attempt the direction of her thoughts. It
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 95 
 
 seemed to him certain that under the circum 
 stances she must inevitably reach the conclu 
 sion he desired. There might be danger that 
 a suggestion from him would provoke suspi 
 cion, though this possibility was remote, after 
 the effectiveness of the scene on which she had 
 looked. Nevertheless, despite his confidence 
 in a victorious issue of the affair, Dan was 
 glad when Lou went forward at full speed. 
 He, like Fingie Whalen, knew that the influ 
 ence of the drug on Jim Maxwell would be 
 only of a temporary sort, and that soon the 
 ranch-owner would recover consciousness. 
 Just how long an interval there might be be 
 fore the husband s return to the ranch, Dan 
 could not tell. But, because he was in a fever 
 of impatience for a rapid development of 
 events, he rejoiced over the haste in which 
 they rode, and welcomed with a sigh of relief 
 their arrival at the ranch. 
 
 As Lou dismounted, Nell came running 
 from the porch with a rapturous cry of greet 
 ing. The mother dropped to her knees, and 
 gathered the girl into her arms, with passion-
 
 9 6 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 ate kisses. She realized, with bitter self- 
 reproach, that in all this time of trial she had 
 had not a single thought for the daughter 
 whom she so loved. In her humiliation as a 
 wife she had forgotten her obligation as a 
 mother. Now, abruptly, the shameful sig 
 nificance to the daughter of what had befallen 
 was borne in upon Lou s consciousness. 
 
 "He is unworthy ever to look on her face 
 again." She was unaware that in the inten 
 sity of her feeling she had spoken aloud with 
 deliberate emphasis. 
 
 Nell, already somewhat perplexed by the 
 ardor of these caresses, became even a little 
 frightened by the unfamiliar expression on 
 her mother s face, and by the sternly spoken 
 words, which she did not understand. She 
 was relieved when, the next moment, she was 
 released, and she hurried off to her favorite 
 nook in the rose-garden, where she might 
 be alone to puzzle over the meaning of it 
 all. 
 
 Unlike the child, Dan McGrew understood
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 97 
 
 exactly the wife s ejaculation, and he knew 
 that he had achieved his end. Without invi 
 tation, but quite as a matter of course, he 
 walked at Lou s side as she ascended the steps 
 and entered the living-room. She accepted 
 his company without remonstrance, indiffer 
 ently. It was only after she had sunk down 
 into a low easy chair, where she lay back 
 wearily with closed eyes, while she drew off 
 her gauntlets, that Dan McGrew finally dared 
 to address her explicitly: 
 
 "You must leave him, of course," he said 
 gently. His voice was very grave and kindly. 
 It came with something of a shock to the 
 woman s ears she had forgotten him so com 
 pletely in the self-absorption of her mood. 
 But, too, there was something soothing to her 
 in the manner of his utterance. She became 
 aware that here was one to aid her in the ac 
 complishment of things to be done. She no 
 longer remembered how, within the hour, she 
 had execrated this man who now stood before 
 her. She had become oblivious of the insult
 
 98 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 he had so recently put upon her. The reve 
 lation of her husband s treachery obsessed her 
 mind to the exclusion of all else. So, she was 
 fully disposed to accept the assistance of Dan 
 McGrew in this emergency. She was ready 
 to acquiesce in his suggestions for her guid 
 ance in escaping from this place which her 
 husband had polluted. She sat up in a quick 
 access of energy. 
 
 "Yes," she said harshly, "I must leave him 
 at once." Her animation grew. Her face, 
 which had been pallid a moment before, was 
 flushed with eagerness. Her expression be 
 came resolute. "I must take Nell away from 
 him. I don t want him ever to set eyes on 
 her again he s not fit." 
 
 Dan forbore comment. There needed 
 from him no condemnation of the husband. 
 The wife s conviction as to Jim s guilt was 
 complete. So he avoided Lou s reference to 
 her husband s culpability, and spoke to the 
 point: 
 
 "You want to get away without seeing him
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 99 
 
 again," he remarked, in a tone of positiveness, 
 as if the matter admitted of no doubt. 
 
 "Yes," the wife answered. "It would be 
 too horrible to see him again! And for 
 Nell" 
 
 Dan McGrew nodded sympathetically. 
 
 "It would only mean a nasty row," he 
 agreed. "You might as well spare yourself 
 that and spare the child, too," he concluded, 
 craftily. For he realized that Lou would fly 
 fast and far for the child s sake, if not for her 
 own. He detested the necessity of the child s 
 presence in their flight, but he recognized the 
 fact that it was a necessity, and therefore to be 
 endured even, as far as possible, to be turned 
 to advantage. 
 
 "Yes," Lou continued, "we must hurry as 
 fast as we can, for I suppose there s no telling 
 when Jim might return. And it would be 
 dreadful to run into him in the town, on the 
 way to the train." 
 
 Dan McGrew nodded assent. 
 
 "It would, indeed!" he declared. "In the
 
 ioo THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 condition he s in now there s no telling what 
 he might do." 
 
 Lou shuddered at the memory of her hus 
 band s sodden face, as she had seen it resting on 
 the breast of the woman in Murphy s saloon. 
 
 "We must not meet him!" she declared des 
 perately. "It would be too terrible to have 
 him see Nell." She pressed her hands to her 
 bosom as if to hold back the emotion that 
 surged within her. "More dreadful for Nell 
 to see him. I want her to have a clean mem 
 ory of her father, whatever he is." 
 
 "We can avoid any danger of meeting him," 
 Dan McGrew asserted, with a brisk tone of 
 confidence that reassured his listener. "We ll 
 just ride across country to the main line. Do 
 you know the road? I have only a general 
 idea." 
 
 Lou was all eagerness over the suggestion. 
 
 "Yes, yes," she exclaimed excitedly; "that 
 is the way to do it. i know the road. We 
 must get ready and start at once. But you 
 don t need to go with us." 
 
 Dan McGrew spoke decisively:
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 101 
 
 "I ve got you into this mess, Lou, and it s 
 up to me to see the thing through. I want to 
 help you in any way I can and just now you 
 need help." His tone was firm, yet tender, 
 with a note of devotion in it that touched the 
 distraught woman. She sprang to her feet 
 and held out both her hands, which were 
 seized in a warm clasp. 
 
 "Thank you, Dan," she said gently. "God 
 knows I need help." 
 
 Then, forthwith, she became all animation. 
 She summoned her maid, and ordered that 
 two small bags which could be carried on 
 horseback should be packed with necessaries 
 for herself and Nell. At Dan s suggestion, 
 she sent an order to the stables for Nell s pony 
 and two fresh mounts to serve for Dan and 
 herself. These things done, it occurred to her 
 that she must leave some explanation of her 
 departure for her husband on his return. 
 She seated herself at his desk, and wrote hur 
 riedly and briefly, in distaste for even this 
 indirect contact with the man who had 
 wronged her.
 
 102 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 Dear Jim: 
 
 I know all. I do not want to be in your 
 path, so am going away. You love another, 
 so will perhaps not miss me. 
 
 Good-by, Jim. 
 
 I forgive you. 
 
 LOU. 
 
 Lou, when she had set her name to the short 
 form of words, thrust the sheet into an enve 
 lope, which she addressed with the single 
 word, "Jim." For long seconds she sat star 
 ing at the lines she had last traced that name 
 which had been through so many years the 
 symbol of her happiness, which was now be 
 come the symbol of vileness and misery. The 
 horror of it smote her anew, essenced in that 
 name which had been her blessing, which was 
 now become her curse. 
 
 The sound of the hoofs stamping on the 
 gravel before the door aroused her. The 
 maid came to announce that the horses were in 
 readiness, with the bags strapped to the sad 
 dles. With the maid came Nell, who had 
 needed no preparation, since she was already
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 103 
 
 in her riding clothes. Lou took the girl in 
 her arms and kissed the exquisite dark face 
 with a tenderness that was like a benediction. 
 . . . She had no least hint that this was des 
 tined to be the last time her lips should touch 
 the soft roundness of the girlish cheek. 
 
 "You are to ride with me this afternoon, 
 Nell," she said. "Don t ask any questions 
 now. I ll tell you all about it by-and-by. 
 It s a surprise." She shivered over the words. 
 A surprise yes, a surprise that meant the end 
 of all things. So, presently, the three went 
 forth from the living-room, and across the 
 porch, and down the steps, and got into the 
 saddles of the waiting horses. Without any 
 exchange of words among them, they rode 
 away. None of the three looked back Nell, 
 because she had no guess as to the sinister 
 meaning of this parting; Dan, because even 
 his calloused soul felt a twinge of shame over 
 the ruins that he left behind; Lou, because she 
 could not.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 IT was not until late afternoon that Jim 
 slowly struggled back to consciousness. 
 He was first aware of a deadly nausea, which 
 seemed billowing through every atom of his 
 being. Then he felt the torture that stabbed 
 through his brain. In an effort of revolt, he 
 raised his head, though the movement tried 
 his strength to the utmost. His eyes swept 
 dimly over the scene, and a dull wonder filled 
 him. Just at first, he did not recognize the 
 place. Very quickly, however, the acrid 
 odors of spilled liquors and the reek of cheap 
 perfumes from the women quickened memory. 
 Suddenly his eyes opened wide, and he saw 
 clearly, with new consciousness of his sur 
 roundings and of himself. He realized that 
 in some mysterious fashion, altogether inex 
 plicable to him, he had been overcome in the 
 
 104
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 105 
 
 back room of Murphy s saloon. His mind 
 went to the period immediately preceding the 
 blank in memory. He remembered his pres 
 ence there along with the woman, Jess, and 
 the gambler, and his taking a drink with them. 
 Of whatever had followed, he had no knowl 
 edge. Evidently, he had suffered a seizure 
 of some sort. As his faculties were restored, 
 it occurred to him that he might have been 
 drugged by the gambler or the woman, for 
 the purpose of robbery. But a hasty exami 
 nation showed that his watch and money were 
 untouched. Besides, it seemed to him, on 
 second thought, preposterous that either of the 
 two should have dared anything of the kind 
 against him. No, it was certain that he had 
 been attacked thus without warning by some 
 unexpected physical ailment. He was rather 
 alarmed by the experience, as strong men 
 usually are when unaccustomed weakness as 
 sails them. He determined to submit himself 
 to a careful examination at the hands of a 
 competent physician, on his first visit to the 
 county-seat
 
 106 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 The nausea had subsided in some measure, 
 and the pain in his head, too, had lessened. 
 But he felt mouth and throat parched. He 
 got up, moving with difficulty, and, after a 
 few moments of unsteadiness while he held to 
 the back of a chair for support, he was able to 
 stand firmly enough and to walk forward 
 to the bar. 
 
 "Give me a glass of water," he said to the 
 bar-keeper. 
 
 The fellow obeyed with alacrity, for he 
 knew Jim Maxwell to be a man of importance 
 in the community, and he had been puzzled 
 by the events of the day even a little fright 
 ened lest trouble come of them. Jim gulped 
 the water and demanded more. He drank a 
 number of glasses before his thirst was even 
 partially quenched. The effect was speedy. 
 He felt strength returning to him. His brain 
 was quite clear again. 
 
 The bar-tender, watching narrowly, saw 
 that the ranch-owner was himself once more. 
 He ventured to speak ingratiatingly, in the 
 hope of satisfying his curiosity.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 107 
 
 "That was quite some snoozle, Mister," he 
 remarked, with a smirk. 
 
 "It was nothing of the sort," Jim snapped. 
 "I don t know what it was. But it was bad 
 enough." 
 
 "I thought mebbe as how you d had a drop 
 too much," the bar-keeper explained, "an 
 was jest nacherly sleepin it off. If we d 
 knowed you was sick, we d have got the Doc 
 in to give you a look-over." 
 
 "That s all right," Jim answered. "I m not 
 blaming you any unless it was the drink you 
 gave me that poisoned me." 
 
 Presently Jim went out into the street. He 
 found his horse tied to a ring at the corner of 
 the saloon building. He unhitched it, 
 mounted, and rode slowly homeward. He 
 was still in distress physically, but his condi 
 tion was improving from moment to moment, 
 so that he no longer felt apprehension as to the 
 outcome. Soon, indeed, he became suffi 
 ciently sure of himself to put his horse to a 
 trot ... As the shadows of evening drew 
 down, he rode up to the door of his home.
 
 io8 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 There was a bank of lurid clouds in the 
 west, massed heavily on the horizon. The air 
 was motionless, weighted with portents of 
 coming storm. Jim felt the oppressiveness, 
 and in a subtle way it rested upon his mood 
 as something sinister. A weight of melan 
 choly pressed upon him as he entered the 
 house. The stillness of the air seemed ree n- 
 forced in the quiet of the living-room into 
 which he stepped. There was no sound. He 
 listened for his wife s greeting. It did not 
 come. He listened for the pattering steps of 
 Nell, running to welcome him. He did not 
 hear them. The silence hurt him in some 
 curious way. He had an overwhelming sense 
 of the absence of those he loved the absence 
 of wife and child. 
 
 He crossed the room to his desk. He 
 slipped the loop of the quirt from his wrist 
 and let it fall on the desk. The effect of the 
 drug was not yet assuaged ; he was very thirsty. 
 He called to the maid passing through the 
 hall: 
 
 "Bring me a glass of water, Mary."
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 109 
 
 The girl came quickly with the drink. She 
 and the other servants were in a ferment of 
 curiosity, full of suspicions and wonderings. 
 There had been much gossip in the house over 
 the fight between the two men the day before, 
 which had not passed unobserved. To-day, 
 the wife had suddenly left her home with the 
 man who had been ordered out of the house. 
 Over this fact, scandalous tongues were clack 
 ing loudly. Mary had made it her business 
 to be passing in the hall, in order that she 
 might note the attitude of the master at such 
 a time. So she stood, in eager expectation, 
 eying her master closely, as he took the glass 
 of water. 
 
 But he set the glass back on the tray sud 
 denly, for he saw an envelope lying on the 
 desk, addressed in the handwriting of the 
 woman he loved : 
 
 "Jim." 
 
 A foreboding of disaster crashed upon him. 
 He trembled, standing there with the envel 
 ope unopened in his hand. Then he strove 
 to throw off this craven dread for which
 
 no THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 there was no reason. He turned to the maid. 
 
 "Where is your mistress?" he asked, quietly. 
 
 It was the question for which Mary, and 
 the whole household, had been waiting. 
 
 "Why, sir," she answered falteringly, dis 
 mayed now that the matter was coming to a 
 crisis, "she has gone out with Miss Nell, sir 
 and with Mr. McGrew." 
 
 McGrew! The name roared in Jim s 
 brain. The man who had insulted his wife, 
 whom he had beaten and driven from his 
 home like a whipped cur. . . . And Lou and 
 Nell had gone with Dan McGrew. He felt 
 a sickness, inexpressibly more horrible than 
 the physical nausea that had sickened him 
 there in Murphy s saloon. That Lou should 
 have gone with Dan McGrew and Nell! 
 The thing was incredible! 
 
 His eyes searched the room, as if looking 
 for wife or child, or for some clew to explain 
 the mystery. They fell on the envelope, 
 which he still held in his hand. He tore it 
 open in a frenzy of eagerness. 
 
 He read confusedly. But, somehow, the
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW in 
 
 essential meaning beat upon his brain. He 
 grasped the fact that the woman he loved had 
 gone from him. It was all a monstrous lie, 
 of course. Yet, there was the horrid truth- 
 she had gone away. Lou and Nell the two 
 things in the world had gone away. He 
 could not understand. But they had gone. 
 
 "Good-by, Jim!" 
 
 She had written that, and she had signed it 
 "Lou." There was confusion in his thoughts. 
 He could not guess the meaning that lay back 
 of what his wife had written. He only knew 
 that there was some monstrous lie. 
 
 The maid s voice came softly. The girl 
 was appalled at the expression on the man s 
 face as he stood staring down at the sheet of 
 paper in his hands. It was from a desire to 
 bring things back to the ordinary that she 
 spoke apologetically: 
 
 "Your glass of water, sir." 
 
 The words made a mechanical impres 
 sion on Jim Maxwell s consciousness. He 
 stretched out his left arm, and his hand, from 
 which he had not yet pulled off the riding-
 
 ii2 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 gauntlet, closed over the glass on the tray. 
 He raised it toward his lips. His eyes fell on 
 the note once more. 
 
 "You love another, so will perhaps not miss 
 me." 
 
 The incredible words were there before 
 him. And she had gone she and Nell. . . . 
 With Dan McGrew! The thing was impos 
 sible. There was no truth anywhere. He 
 stared down at the letter, aghast at the horri 
 ble conundrum propounded to him by fate. 
 Lou had gone with Dan McGrew! . . . 
 Why? 
 
 His eyes held to the note. 
 
 " so I am going away." 
 
 The words beat a refrain of dreadfulness in 
 his brain. 
 
 " so I am going away." 
 
 His hand, holding the glass of water, 
 clenched fiercely in the reflex of emotion. 
 The glass was shivered, and the fragments 
 were multiplied as his passion still sought ex 
 pression in the violence of that clutch. 
 
 Jim turned to the maid, who had watched
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 113 
 
 his unconscious splintering of the glass with 
 distended eyes. 
 
 "When did they go?" he asked. 
 
 Mary answered hurriedly, disconcerted by 
 the obvious distress of her master. 
 
 "It was some hours ago, sir. They went 
 sort of unexpected-like, as it seemed to me, 
 
 sir." 
 
 Jim reasoned swiftly. Somehow, he sensed 
 a frightful fraud underlying this mystery. 
 But he knew the need of haste. By some 
 malevolent chance, his wife had been led into 
 this error of understanding out of which she 
 had written : 
 
 "I do not want to be in your path, so am 
 going away." 
 
 Jim turned to the girl, who was still hover 
 ing doubtfully in the doorway. 
 
 "There s been a mistake somewhere, I 
 guess." His voice was quiet, but in it 
 throbbed a heart-beat of deepest feeling. 
 "Tell the foreman, I want the boys to ride with 
 me to-night."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 AS the cavalcade passed from the drive 
 way into the high road, which ran east 
 and west, Dan McGrew spoke quickly. 
 
 "We ll ride toward the town." 
 
 Lou turned her horse obediently, accord 
 ing to his direction. 
 
 "But why?" she demanded, wonderingly. 
 "We might meet him." 
 
 "That s a risk we must run," was the de 
 cisive answer. "When we are well out of 
 sight of the house, we ll cut around through 
 the fields, and get back into the road below. 
 So, if they come after us, they ll start the pur 
 suit in the wrong way." 
 
 In this fashion, the matter was carried out. 
 Half an hour later, the three were back on 
 the high-road, riding in the direction opposite 
 to that in which they had started. They went 
 
 forward rapidly through the hot hours of the 
 
 114
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 11$ 
 
 afternoon, but not too rapidly, in order that 
 the horses might hold out for the long journey. 
 Nell, from time to time, would have ques 
 tioned her mother over this strange outing. 
 She became a little petulant, fretful from 
 balked curiosity. But the mother was not 
 minded to explain as yet. It required all her 
 powers of self-control to maintain a fair de 
 gree of composure in this time of trial. She 
 knew that any attempt to make plausible ex 
 planations to the girl would overtax her 
 strength, and cause collapse. 
 
 Night drew down on the travelers. With 
 its coming, the storm, which had been threat 
 ening in the sultry air, broke furiously. 
 Within the minute, the three were drenched. 
 Dan was disturbed by the discomfort thus in 
 flicted on mother and child, as well as himself, 
 but pressed on stubbornly, since no relief was 
 possible. Presently, however, as he asked a 
 question concerning roads and distances, Lou 
 had an inspiration: 
 
 "We can cut off eight or ten miles by not 
 going through Salisbury, to which this road
 
 n6 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 runs. We can ford the river, and beyond it s 
 open range to Hoytsville. Then we ll strike 
 the high-road again." 
 
 Dan questioned her closely, and was con 
 vinced by her replies. 
 
 "I ve ridden it often with with Jim," she 
 said. There was a catch in her throat at ut 
 terance of the name. "I think it would be 
 quite safe, even in the dark." 
 
 Dan agreed as to the advisability of her 
 plan. Presently, then, the three turned out of 
 the road, and moved toward the river, which, 
 Lou explained, ran through a little valley just 
 beyond. The rain had ceased as suddenly as 
 it had begun. The passing of the storm had 
 cleared the air. The oppressive heat of the 
 afternoon and evening was gone. Now, a 
 chill breeze was blowing. It pierced the 
 drenched garments of the three, so that they 
 shivered with cold. Lou became alarmed lest 
 Nell should suffer some ill consequence from 
 this exposure. As they descended the slope 
 that ran down to the river-bank, she spoke sud 
 denly.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 117 
 
 "Let s stop here for a little rest," she sug 
 gested; and her voice was so anxious that Dan 
 hardly dared refuse. For that matter, he had 
 had something of the sort in his own mind. 
 
 "It s imprudent," he answered; "but, if we 
 must, why, we must, I suppose." 
 
 "I don t think it s really imprudent," Lou 
 maintained. "There are trees and bushes 
 along the river-bank to hide us and the horses. 
 Anyhow, we re out of sight from the road. 
 Could you build a fire?" 
 
 "If I can find any wood dry enough to 
 burn," was the rather doubtful response. 
 
 They halted on the edge of a grove, which 
 grew close to the river. Dan led the horses 
 within the concealment of the trees, and tied 
 them as best he could with his chilled fingers. 
 He had difficulty in finding dry leaves and 
 branches for the fire, but, in the end, suc 
 ceeded in making a blaze. Soon, the three 
 were grouped close around the flame, grateful 
 for the heat, which relaxed their stiffened 
 muscles, and sent up steaming vapors from 
 their wet garments. After a little, Dan left
 
 n8 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGRE\^ 
 
 the fire for a look at the river, which was t( 
 be forded at this point. He could see onb 
 very indistinctly, for scudding masses of blad 
 cloud hid moon and stars. As nearly as h< 
 could make out, the river was about fifty yard 
 in width, its surface almost flush with the banl 
 on which he stood. In the darkness of th< 
 night, the vaguely seen stream appeared some 
 how disquieting, as if in treacherous waiting 
 Dan McGrew, looking on it, felt a shiver tha 
 was not from the cold. He turned away, wit! 
 an impatient curse for his moment of weak 
 ness. Lou had said that the utmost depth o 
 water in this shallow creek would not read 
 to the stirrups. Yet, despite self-contemp 
 over his feelings, Dan experienced a depres 
 sion of spirit for which he could in no wise ac 
 count, as he returned to the fire. 
 
 It was perhaps an hour after their arriva 
 in the grove that the man s alert ears caugh 
 a thudding of hoofs upon the high-road fron 
 which they had turned aside. He listened 
 and made sure that the riders for there wen 
 several were following the road toward Sal
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 119 
 
 isbury and Hoytsville, at full speed. Had 
 they been going in the opposite direction, they 
 could have been disregarded. But, under the 
 circumstances, their presence seemed a sure in 
 dication that pursuit in the right direction had 
 been begun. To escape them, it would be 
 necessary to press forward with all haste, tak 
 ing advantage of Lou s plan for a shorter dis 
 tance. 
 
 Even while his thoughts were formulating 
 this decision, Dan had taken prompt measures 
 of precaution against discovery. He had scat 
 tered the glowing embers with thrusts of his 
 feet, and had stamped upon them, until they 
 were completely extinguished. 
 
 "We must ride instantly," he said, in an 
 authoritative voice to Lou, who acquiesced at 
 once. For she, too, had heard the galloping 
 through the night and had guessed its mean 
 ing. 
 
 Dan hurried to unfasten and lead out the 
 horses. When he was come to the place 
 where he had tied them, he could distinguish 
 in the faint light only the two larger mounts.
 
 120 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 Instantly, the apprehension that had been so 
 formless crystallized in definite fear of a pos 
 sibility, which, in the following moment, was 
 proven fact. Dan cursed again over the 
 clumsiness of his cold-stiffened fingers, which 
 had caused such a mishap. More than ever, 
 now, he detested the presence of the child with 
 him and Lou, for it was likely to prove a seri 
 ous encumbrance in their further flight. He 
 called softly, but there came no nicker of re 
 sponse from the pony. He explained to Lou 
 and Nell what had happened, and, at his re 
 quest, the girl called, in hope that her pet 
 would hear the summons and obey her voice, 
 if not another s. But, again, there was no re 
 sponse. A search, Dan knew, would be use 
 less, since the escaped pony might be already 
 miles distant, on its way to the ranch. 
 
 "I ll take Nell on behind me," Dan an 
 nounced roughly. "It s the only way." 
 
 Within a minute, Lou and Dan were 
 mounted. Then, Dan bent over, and swung 
 the girl up to a seat behind him.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 121 
 
 "Hold on tight," he commanded. 
 
 The girl obeyed passively. What with the 
 cold and the soaking and the loss of her pony, 
 and this dreadful river which they were about 
 to enter, and the strangeness of everything, the 
 child was frightened and miserable. She was 
 sobbing very softly, and the sound irritated 
 Dan McGrew. 
 
 "You lead, Lou," he ordered, "since you 
 know the way. You can see well enough?" 
 he asked anxiously. "You re sure that you 
 know the way?" 
 
 "Yes," was the confident reply. "But the 
 water is higher than I ve ever seen it. Why, 
 it s up level with the bank, almost." 
 
 "Is it safe, then?" Dan demanded. 
 
 "We must risk it, anyhow," Lou returned. 
 "If we go by the road now, they ll be waiting 
 for us ahead." 
 
 "If the creek s as shallow as you said, I 
 guess we can manage it, all right," was the 
 man s decision. "There must have been a 
 cloud-burst somewhere in the mountains
 
 122 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 where the stream rises. We got the tail end of 
 the storm and that was a plenty!" he added 
 savagely. "Let s be off." 
 
 Lou led the way as he had bidden her. She 
 rode a furlong down the bank of the stream, 
 to a point beyond the grove where she and her 
 husband had entered the water for the cross 
 ing. As the horse stepped reluctantly down 
 the shelving bank into the current, a qualm of 
 dismay stirred in the woman. She could not 
 doubt that the rush of the water as it came 
 swirling about the horse s legs was much more 
 violent than it had been on those other occa 
 sions when she had ridden through it. And, 
 too, there was something strangely dispiriting 
 in the combined effects of the black tide and 
 the ominous gloom of the night beneath a 
 heaven hidden by the masses of scurrying 
 clouds. She looked back, as her horse ad 
 vanced with laggard pace into the deepening 
 water. She craved the comfort of compan 
 ionship in this horrible time and place. Her 
 eyes could make out only a silhouette that 
 moved a little way behind her. She could not
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 123 
 
 perceive any detail there in the darkness. But 
 she knew that Dan McGrew rode close at 
 hand, and with him, though invisible, rode her 
 daughter, Nell the one thing dear left to her 
 in all the world. So, she went forward 
 bravely enough, though her mood was as black 
 as the blackness of the night that hung upon 
 her in a smothering pall of weariness. 
 
 The water deepened and flowed with more 
 fierceness. It reached to the horse s belly. 
 The steed snorted in affright. Then, it lost 
 its footing, and sank until only its head, with 
 the nostrils lifted high, was clear of the water. 
 Lou cried out at the shock, as she found her 
 self immersed in the coil of waters. But, even 
 as she screamed, she threw herself out of the 
 saddle, to relieve the mare of her weight, and 
 swam, holding to the pommel of the saddle. 
 Her horse fought its way forward, breasting 
 the flood valiantly. At an oblique angle to 
 the force of the current, the woman and her 
 steed won slowly to the shore. . . . Her own 
 cry and the splash of her body, as she threw 
 herself from the saddle, had shut from the
 
 i2 4 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 mother s ears another shriek that had broken 
 the silence of the night. 
 
 Dan s mount, troubled by its increased bur 
 den, was more reluctant even than Lou s had 
 been to advance through the lashing currents 
 of the swollen river. It had held back, in 
 spite of Dan s urging, so that it was at some 
 distance in the rear, when, at last, it slipped, 
 and scrambled wildly to regain its footing 
 only to fail and plunge beneath the surface, 
 borne down by the weight it carried. It was 
 in the second before the two riders were finally 
 submerged that Nell voiced her terror in a 
 shrill cry. The noise of it rang in Dan s ears, 
 confusing him. But it was strangled in the 
 second of its birth by the enveloping waters. 
 As he struggled out of the saddle, holding his 
 breath, Dan became aware that the girl was 
 no longer on the horse. She was not cling 
 ing to him. She had gone from him out into 
 the mystery of the black night and the hungry 
 river. He realized that her cry had been that 
 of despair, as the force of the current wrested 
 the child from her hold on horse and man.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 125 
 
 Dan s head came above the surface, and he 
 floated easily enough, supported by a hand on 
 the swimming horse. Even his iron nerves 
 were shaken by the calamity. There was no 
 further sound out of the stillness of the night, 
 save the rippling murmur of the water as the 
 horse swam onward. Dan was aware that he 
 could do nothing toward the girl s rescue. 
 Already, the hurrying current must have 
 carried her far beyond his reach. It seemed 
 clear enough that Nell must have lost con 
 sciousness at once after being swept down into 
 the element. Otherwise, she must have cried 
 out again and there had come no second cry. 
 Strong man as he was, Dan McGrew felt him 
 self helpless in the grasp of circumstance. 
 There was nothing that he could do to avert 
 or to mitigate the tragedy. He could only go 
 forward helplessly, leaving the unfortunate 
 girl to her fate. The suddenness, as well as 
 the dreadfulness of the catastrophe, sickened 
 him. Later on, he might rejoice over this 
 summary removal of one who must have 
 proved an obstacle in his path. But, just now,
 
 126 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 his emotion was of dismay a dismay strange 
 to his experience. Beyond the natural hor 
 ror aroused in him by the accident, Dan 
 McGrew found himself almost in despair over 
 what must come to pass when the mother 
 should learn of her daughter s death. He 
 knew well that Nell was the one treasure that 
 remained in the mother s heart. The loss of 
 this last possession would rend her being to 
 its depths, and leave her utterly desolate. The 
 first effect from knowledge of the tragedy 
 would be that the mother would not go a step 
 further, until after the river had been 
 searched , and her daughter s body recovered. 
 Such a delay would be fatal to the plotter s 
 every hope. ... At once, Dan McGrew for 
 got his horror, his despair. He began again 
 his plotting to the end that the mother should 
 not learn the truth too soon. 
 
 When, finally, his horse gained a footing, 
 near the other bank of the river, Dan Mc 
 Grew had matured a plan to suffice for the 
 moment. Beyond that, he could not see his 
 way. The future lay in the lap of the gods.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 127 
 
 On dry land again, Dan reined in the horse, 
 which welcomed the respite gladly after its 
 battling with the river. He listened, and soon 
 heard Lou calling his name. From the sound 
 of her voice, he knew that she was at some dis 
 tance from him, further up the stream. He 
 sent a cheery shout in answer to her hail. 
 Then, he rode forward slowly and cautiously 
 through the darkness, which was so deep that 
 he could hardly see to pick a way among the 
 bushes and trees that lined the bank of the 
 creek. And Dan McGrew blessed fate for 
 that darkness. Lou s voice came again, near 
 at hand. Now, Dan could perceive the vague 
 outline of her form against the background 
 of the sky, as she sat her horse on the crest of 
 the little knoll that rose from the river s 
 brim. 
 
 "We re all right," he cried, and his voice 
 was full of content. "But I don t think much 
 of your easy ford, Lou. It was a nasty cross 
 ing." Then his voice rang sharply, imperi 
 ously: "But we must hurry on, if we are to 
 gain anything for all our trouble."
 
 128 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 "And you re all right, then?" Lou asked. 
 There was a note of vast relief in her voice. 
 "You re all right, you and Nell?" 
 
 Dan McGrew s voice came with an em 
 phasis of sincerity: 
 
 "We re all right, Nell and I." Again his 
 voice came insistently: 
 
 "Ride on, Lou. We ll follow." 
 
 Lou called out once again, and the music 
 01 her voice was very tender: 
 
 "It will only be for a little longer, Nell. 
 Mother s brave darling!" 
 
 Dan s voice came roughly, to cover the lack 
 of any response from the child. 
 
 "Hurry, Lou! Hurry! We ll follow." 
 
 Wholly unsuspicious, Lou rode on her way 
 amid the shadows of the night. She had no 
 least instinct to warn her that now, at last, she 
 had lost everything her life had held dear. 
 There was still the torture that had come when 
 she had learned the baseness of her husband. 
 But she could not guess the last evil that was 
 upon her. So, she rode swiftly through the 
 night. Always, even when they came into the
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 129 
 
 road at Hoytsville, Dan rode a little in the 
 rear. Lou looked back from time to time. 
 She could see the outlines of man and horse. 
 She could not see the form of her daughter; 
 the bulk of the man hid even its shadow from 
 her eyes. But the fact that she could not see 
 caused no fear in her, and she rode swiftly, as 
 contented as one may be when the sweetness of 
 life has changed to abomination. 
 
 It was not till they came to the outskirts of 
 the little city, through which the main line of 
 the railroad ran, that Lou learned the truth. 
 It was under the lights of the streets that she 
 turned, and looked, and saw Dan McGrew 
 close behind her and saw that there was none 
 clinging at his back. She stared disbeliev- 
 ingly. Then, a ghastly fear leaped within 
 her. 
 
 "Nell!" she cried. 
 
 Her voice was strained and shrill, broken 
 with dread. "Nell!" she repeated, in a tone 
 muffled by terror. "Where is she?" She 
 turned her horse sharply and reined it to Dan 
 McGrew s side. Motionless, the two re-
 
 130 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 garded each other through seconds that were 
 as ages. 
 
 Finally, Dan McGrew spoke: 
 
 "She was torn away when we were swept 
 under," he said; and his voice was very com 
 passionate. "I did what I could. There was 
 no way to save her. She only cried out once. 
 She must have gone down immediately." 
 
 Lou sat rigid, gazing with eyes that widened 
 and burned in flames under which the man be 
 fore her cringed. And then, of a sudden, the 
 fires of her gaze were quenched. It was as if 
 a black flood rolled over her as well, and ex 
 tinguished the very last sparks of her spirit 
 The lids slowly fluttered down to closing. 
 Under the blue white of the arc-light, her 
 face was that of a dead woman. The last 
 blow of fate in that frightful day had over 
 whelmed her. She tottered in her saddle. 
 Dan McGrew, watching fearfully this thing 
 that had come to pass through his machina 
 tions, leaped, and stood, and caught the faint 
 ing woman as she fell. 
 
 He remained motionless there for a full
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 131 
 
 minute, with the lifeless body in his arms. 
 For once, he found himself perplexed, incom 
 petent. But, abruptly, his thoughts cleared. 
 Something of his usual self-confidence, so 
 greatly shaken this night, came back to him. 
 He smiled with a cruel, utterly selfish satis 
 faction. 
 
 "It s the best way out," he muttered to him 
 self. "I ll get her into some quiet place. 
 She ll need a lot of nursing before she gets 
 over all this. I m sorry for Lou, but it had 
 to be; and it s all for the best." 
 
 With that monstrous declaration concern 
 ing the evil that he had wrought, Dan 
 McGrew strode forward toward the nearest 
 house, carrying the unconscious woman in his 
 arms.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 JIM and his men rode throughout the 
 night in vain. Nowhere could they 
 come on any trace of the fugitives. There 
 was as yet no telephone installed in this newly 
 settled region. But their search was thor 
 ough. There were inquiries at the railway 
 stations in the various towns round about. At 
 none of these had ought been seen of Dan 
 McGrew and woman and child. Jim found 
 himself baffled in his quest. He could not 
 guess that the wife who had thus deserted him 
 was lying in a stupor, from which she aroused 
 only to rave over a lost husband and a dead 
 child. He could not know that she had 
 broken under the stress of sorrow, and was 
 being ministered unto by a kindly woman to 
 whom Dan McGrew had told many lies, in 
 order to enlist her sympathetic aid. Even had 
 his inquiries reached the very house in which 
 
 132
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 133 
 
 Lou was sheltered, he would still have been 
 deceived. For he sought a mother and her 
 child : and here was no child. 
 
 So, the hunt availed nothing. The three 
 who fled had vanished utterly. There came 
 not even a rumor as to their whereabouts. 
 They were gone as completely as if the earth 
 had opened and swallowed them up. 
 
 Nevertheless, Jim was not slow in learning 
 something of the truth. He was told of Dan s 
 visit at the ranch that fatal day, and of his 
 wife s accompanying this visitor to the town. 
 Those there were who had seen the two as 
 they dismounted at Murphy s saloon, and 
 looked in through the window. Jim, remem 
 bering his own experiences of that day in the 
 back room of the saloon, was aroused to sus 
 picion of the fact. He got from the bar 
 keeper details as to what had occurred. The 
 fellow s reference, jestingly made, to the man 
 ner in which Jim and the woman, Jess, had 
 embraced, gave him a sudden illumination 
 concerning the plot of Dan McGrew by which 
 his wife had been beguiled.
 
 i 3 4 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 Straightway, Jim hunted out Fingie Wha- 
 len s woman. She would have denied, but, in 
 the face of the injured husband s rage, she was 
 fairly terrified into confession. In the end, 
 the woman wrote at Jim s dictation, even as 
 she had written at the dictation of Dan 
 McGrew. But, now, she wrote without any 
 smirk of vicious satisfaction with a face pal 
 lid and with fingers that trembled from fear 
 of the fierce-visaged man who stood over her 
 in stern and menacing domination. Fingie 
 Whalen, all his bluster gone, looked on in 
 timid consternation, cringing from the bale 
 ful threat in the eyes of the man mortally 
 wronged. 
 
 The painted woman was so moved by the 
 anger of the man whom she had helped betray, 
 that, for the first time in more years than she 
 would have cared to tell, she revealed the name 
 with which, back in a quiet New England vil 
 lage, she had been christened by simple, God 
 fearing parents. 
 
 This was the note of confession, which the
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 135 
 
 woman wrote at Jim s command, duly dated, 
 and witnessed by Fingie Whalen and the land 
 lady of the house, who was summoned for the 
 purpose. Jim realized that these formalities 
 were extravagant, but, somehow, they seemed 
 necessary to him just then, to put this evidence 
 of the crime against his home and happiness 
 beyond cavil of doubt. 
 
 I, Anne Weston, confess to tricking Jim 
 Maxwell and deceiving his wife at the insti 
 gation of Dan McGrew. McGrew hired 
 Fingie Whalen and me to help him fool Mrs. 
 Maxwell. I wrote the note signed "Jess." 
 At the time when Mr. Maxwell was due to ar 
 rive in town, I was all ready, and as he came 
 by fell from my horse as if I had fainted. He 
 carried me into the saloon, and then Fingie 
 gave him knock-out drops, and we fixed it up 
 so that when McGrew came with Mrs. Max 
 well and looked in at the window, it was as 
 if we were loving together. But it was all a 
 lie, worked out by Dan McGrew to make 
 Mrs. Maxwell believe her husband was false 
 to her. 
 
 ANNE WESTON.
 
 .136 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 Jim carried that paper in his pocket. It 
 was the document with which he would prove 
 to Lou how she had been deluded. But the 
 days passed, and there came no opportunity to 
 show her the sheet of paper on which Anne 
 Weston had scrawled her confession. He 
 used every means at his command, but he was 
 powerless to gain any trace of the woman 
 whom he had loved and lost through despic 
 able treachery. 
 
 It was on the fourth day after Lou had fled 
 her home, that Jim Maxwell seated himself 
 at the piano in the living-room. Hitherto, he 
 had been so occupied in the vain effort to find 
 his wife that he had been, in some measure, 
 unappreciative of the misery that was upon 
 him. Now, when he had exhausted every re 
 source of activity, he suddenly felt the desola 
 tion of his home the ruin of his life. With 
 his instinct toward the musical expression of 
 moods, he took his place before the instru 
 ment. 
 
 Then, again, that glorious love-lyric came 
 softly sonorous from the keys. The lilt of the
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 137 
 
 melody rose and fell with a subtle vigor, in 
 stinct with the joy of life. The delicate ten 
 derness of the music throbbed the story of a 
 love complete and enduring. There was pas 
 sion in the rhythm. It was a passion ennobled 
 and purified by the intricate harmonies woven 
 around and within it. It was a song of the 
 spirit. It was overlaid with a splendor of 
 sensuous sound. There was nothing gross 
 only the fullness of life. . . . Jim was playing 
 with exquisite art that song of happiness which 
 he had improvised on the day he received the 
 news of Dan McGrew s coming. 
 
 Now, after he had followed the melody to 
 its end, the truth, which during the moments 
 of his playing he had forgotten, crashed upon 
 him in a discord so horrible that he could not 
 touch the keys to voice it could only sit, 
 moveless, listening to the din within his own 
 soul in an ecstasy of despair. 
 
 Often, again, in the years to come, Jim Max 
 well played that same melody. Always, he 
 was searching for the wife whom he had loved 
 and lost. Men whose eyes were sharp noted
 
 138 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 him here and there around the world, because 
 he seemed so uninterested in everything, and 
 because so often his left hand touched his 
 breast. ... In the pocket there, he carried, 
 ready for Lou s reading, the confession signed 
 by Anne Weston the woman Jess. 
 
 And, in the years as they passed, Jim Max 
 well gained something of reputation for an 
 other thing. He traveled the world over; he 
 had money enough. His foreman was com 
 petent. Even without his personal atten 
 dance, the revenues from the ranch increased 
 year by year. He lived for only two things : 
 to find Lou and prove to her his innocence 
 and to kill the man who had betrayed them. 
 In his search, Jim Maxwell went everywhere. 
 He was known in the capitals of Europe; he 
 was known in the wild places of the earth. 
 Men spoke of him, though they had little 
 acquaintance with him. The reason they 
 spoke of him was because on occasion it 
 might be in the parlor of some sailor s lodg 
 ing-house in Vladivostok, or it might be in a 
 drawing-room of the Savoy, this man would
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 139 
 
 seat himself at the piano, and he would play. 
 And, always, he played the self-same melody, 
 a lilting air of love and tenderness, filled full 
 of the joy of life. Always, too, the melody 
 was embroidered over with an intricate web 
 of harmonies, magnificent, yet somber. And, 
 in the end, always, the player beat suddenly 
 upon the keys a frenzy of discord.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 "r I ^HEN you re quite sure, Jack? You 
 JL don t mind my being a nobody?" 
 The girl s tone was half-playful, half-sad. 
 There was a note of wistfulness in the musical 
 cadences of her voice. 
 
 The young man whom she had addressed 
 answered with an emphasis that left no doubt 
 as to his sincerity. His clear gray eyes were 
 alight with lore, as he looked into the dark, 
 gypsy-like face of the girl at his side. 
 
 "Why, Nell, you re just everybody. 
 You re everything worth while in this little 
 old world of ours." 
 
 "You do say the sweetest things, Jack!" 
 The shadowy eyes that met tenderly the warm 
 gaze of the lover were lighted with fond ap 
 preciation. Then, of a sudden, the red lips 
 trembled into a mischievous smile, as she 
 
 added : "I guess I wouldn t give a snap for 
 
 140
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 141 
 
 a sweetheart who was tongue-tied when he 
 talked about my charms." 
 
 The two were seated in the main room of 
 a small, roughly-built Alaskan cabin, which 
 stood on the outskirts of a ramshackle village, 
 created almost in a day by the gold lure s 
 magic. The lovers had been left alone to 
 gether on the eve of their wedding-day by the 
 kindness of the girl s foster parents, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Ross. It was of these, who, in the tiny 
 back room, were recalling the distant days of 
 their own courtship, that Nell now spoke. 
 
 "They have been so good to me!" she said 
 musingly. u IVe told you that they were not 
 really and truly my parents. I didn t tell you 
 just how I came to be with them, because it 
 was such a dreadful time to me. Even after 
 all these years, I hate thinking of it." 
 
 "Don t!" Jack Reeves urged. "What s past 
 is past, and there s no earthly reason for you 
 to worry yourself over it by telling me." 
 
 The girl shook her head. 
 
 "I want to tell you, dear," she said simply. 
 Then she fell silent for a little. The lover,
 
 142 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 watching the warm olive contour of the cheek 
 against which the long black lashes swept as 
 her eyes closed in meditation, rejoiced yet 
 once again in the beauty and the daintiness of 
 this maiden whom he had found and won for 
 himself here amid the rigors of the North 
 land. He noted the slight drooping of the 
 tenderly curving lips, and longed to kiss away 
 their sadness. Presently Nell went on speak 
 ing, rather rapidly, as if anxious to be done 
 with an unpleasant task, and in a tone that told 
 of restrained emotion: 
 
 "It was twelve years ago that Papa and 
 Mamma Ross found me. You know Papa 
 Ross is a born pioneer, and Mamma has grown 
 to be just like him. For years they have been 
 moving with the frontiers. That time they 
 were camping by a river down below. There 
 had been a heavy storm, and the river ran high. 
 They heard a cry from somewhere out in the 
 night on the water. They ran to the bank 
 and looked. But it was dark, and they 
 couldn t see anything or hear another sound.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 143 
 
 Rover was with them a splendid big New 
 foundland." The girl s voice softened. 
 "Rover died two years ago, just before we 
 came up here. I loved him so!" 
 
 "I think I can guess," Jack ventured, as the 
 
 girl paused. "It was Rover who saved you 
 
 for, of course, it was you out there in the 
 
 river." 
 
 The girl nodded somberly. 
 
 "Yes," came her answer, very gently ut 
 tered; "I was out there in the river, drowning. 
 The current swept me along with it. There 
 was a point of the shore just below where 
 Papa Ross had camped. I was carried into 
 the eddies there. Somehow, Rover caught a 
 glimpse of my face, or, maybe, just his instinct 
 guided him. Anyhow, as Papa Ross has told 
 me, Rover sprang into the river, and, when 
 Papa Ross had followed around the inlet to 
 ward the point, he found the dog trying to 
 drag me out of the water, up on the bank. 
 Papa Ross carried me to the camp, and there 
 he and Mamma worked over me for a long
 
 144 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 time. It was a close call, Papa Ross says, but 
 finally they got me to breathing again. . . . 
 And that s about all." 
 
 "And so," Jack questioned in some surprise, 
 "you don t know any more than that? where 
 you came from, or anything?" 
 
 Once again Nell shook her head. 
 
 "No, nothing more than that. Papa Ross 
 always thought that I must have struck my 
 head somehow, there in the water. Anyhow, 
 I was confused when I came to. I couldn t 
 seem to remember anything exactly except 
 my name, Nell. Sometimes I have shadowy 
 memories, but they melt away before I can 
 get anything definite. So, you see, I m just a 
 nobody, Jack, as I told you just a mystery 
 that came out of the night and the river." 
 
 "Everybody to me," the lover declared 
 again; "everything to me." And now, at last, 
 he took the lithe, slender form of the girl into 
 his arms, and kissed the sorrowfully drooping 
 lips to smiles again. 
 
 But, after a little, when there came a lull in 
 the caresses and murmured endearments, Jack
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 145 
 
 Reeves spoke a question that was puzzling 
 him: 
 
 "But I should think it would have been 
 easy enough to trace you? If inquiries had 
 been made, surely you might have learned 
 where you came from, and who you were, and 
 all that?" 
 
 But, once again, Nell shook her head, and 
 this time very emphatically. 
 
 "Papa Ross did what he could, but it came 
 to nothing. When we got to a town, he tried 
 to find out about any girl s being lost like that. 
 Nobody knew of any such case. There was 
 no report of any child s having been drowned. 
 He did what he could I m sure of that. 
 Anyhow, as long as you don t care, Jack, I 
 don t suppose I need to. But, somehow 
 Nell s voice broke, and she sat silent, absorbed 
 in melancholy reverie. Always, this mystery 
 was a painful thing to her. Even now, when 
 her happiness was full, on the eve of her mar 
 riage to the man she loved, she was grieved 
 by the fact that she must come to her husband 
 as a waif, a creature w r hose origin was un-
 
 i 4 6 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 known, a nameless bit of flotsam, dragged 
 from the river by a dog. Then, in another 
 moment, the depression of her mood was for 
 gotten as she drew away from Jack s embrace, 
 for she heard Papa Ross stamping heavily 
 about the back room of the cabin in kindly 
 warning that he was about to intrude upon 
 the lovers. 
 
 The next morning broke clear, and when at 
 last the slowly clambering sun rose to traverse 
 its short circle between the horizons, its slant 
 ing beams seemed full of warmth and good 
 cheer, though the mercury stood at twenty de 
 grees below zero. There was not a breath of 
 wind, and the chill air, pure with a purity 
 unknown to lower latitudes, was like the wine 
 of life. The breath of it in the lungs set the 
 blood a-tingle with joyousness. And the 
 purity of the air had for its background 
 the visible purity of the snow-mantle that lay 
 over everything. Beneath the sun, the white 
 expanse shimmered in prismatic brilliance. 
 Afar, the mountains loomed in purple masses
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 147 
 
 the green of conifers seen through the vista 
 of many miles. 
 
 And the day, in its spirit of vigorous life 
 and wholesome gayety, was suited to the mood 
 of the tiny temporary town, which sprawled 
 here in the wilderness. For the place was en 
 fete. The hardy men who had thus ventured 
 into the wilds of the North welcomed the di 
 version of this romance among them, which 
 was to culminate to-day in the wedding of 
 Jack Reeves and Nell Ross at the Dyea Hotel. 
 Public sentiment had insisted that the nuptials 
 should be celebrated at the hotel. The hotel, 
 truth to tell, was neither commodious nor im 
 posing. But it was a boarded structure, the 
 only one in the village, and it was by far the 
 largest, small though it was. And the citi 
 zens were determined that they should be 
 permitted to assemble in force on this auspi 
 cious day, when the glamour of love was to 
 soften in some degree the austerity of the 
 arctic land. So, betimes, the men of the com 
 munity gathered at the hotel to await the mar 
 riage ceremony. A scant half-dozen women,
 
 i 4 8 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 courageous followers of the men they loved, 
 were there as well. Some had been at pains 
 to bring heaps of evergreen boughs, and with 
 these the main room of the hotel at once 
 lobby, bar and office was decorated. Cari 
 bou Bill brought a great bank of moss, for 
 which he had dug through six feet of snow. 
 To it was attached a piece of flaming-red 
 paper, in which tea had originally been 
 packed, and this paper had been laboriously 
 cut by Caribou Bill into the shape of two 
 hearts, lovingly joined as one. The symbol 
 of wedded happiness was established by its 
 smirking inventor on the central shelf above 
 the bar, where it commanded the enthusiastic 
 admiration of the populace. 
 
 It was noon to the second when Nell Ross 
 and Jack Reeves stood in the center of the 
 main room of the hotel before the one who 
 was to make them man and wife. He, too, 
 was at heart a pioneer, and he was, as well, 
 an earnest worker for the saving of souls. 
 His own preference, with a roving commis 
 sion, had brought him to this remote place.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 149 
 
 He found a singular pleasure in the fact that 
 his ministrations were required for the uniting 
 of this winsome maiden and this virile, clean 
 young man. It was as if the ceremony typi 
 fied in some fashion the purity and vigor of 
 life here within the frozen North. ... It 
 was noon to the second! The time-keeper 
 was Harry, the Dog-Man, who carried a 
 Waterbury watch, on the accuracy of which 
 he would cheerfully have staked his hopes of 
 eternal happiness. Because of the exactness 
 of his time-piece, which none cared to deny, 
 he had usurped the office of master of cere 
 monies. When he saw the two hands of the 
 \vatch blent as one upon the hour of twelve, he 
 raised his arm, and Nell and Jack moved for 
 ward within the little lane walled by the 
 crowd, to stand before the clergyman, who 
 regarded them with a benevolent smile, in 
 which, unknown to himself, was something al 
 most of envy in the presence of their youth 
 and happiness and love. 
 
 So, the minister spoke the words that made 
 this pair husband and wife.
 
 150 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 There was a noise of snapping dogs outside. 
 A man came into the hotel, stamping the snow 
 from the high-buckled overshoes worn over 
 his boots of felt. Behind him came a woman 
 muffled in furs. She looked on the scene with 
 a certain feminine interest, for she realized at 
 once that a wedding was in progress; but 
 without any personal concern. Indeed, she 
 was rather displeased, being weary from a 
 long journey over the snows, because she saw 
 that she must wait for attention until the cere 
 mony should be concluded. The man with 
 her shook the hood of the parka from his 
 head, and stood regarding with cynical amuse 
 ment the two who had clasped hands before 
 the clergyman. So he waited while the 
 words were uttered that made the pair one. 
 The ceremony ended, the husband kissed the 
 bride; the minister in turn bent and touched 
 his lips to hers, with a curious stirring of half- 
 forgotten emotions. 
 
 Then the crowd surged forward, eager for 
 its prerogative of a kiss. And, as she turned,
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 151 
 
 Nell saw the man who had just entered, stand 
 ing there with that smile of cynical amuse 
 ment upon his handsome face. The eyes of 
 the two met and battled. There came to her 
 a strange feeling of dread. In this, the su 
 preme moment of her life, wherein all had 
 been happiness, there stirred a feeling of 
 doubt, of evil anticipation. 
 
 The man, staring into the face of this beau 
 tiful girl upon whose nuptials he had stumbled 
 by chance, experienced a thrill of emotion 
 which he could not understand. Some secret 
 monition moved him to an alarm. He felt an 
 unreasonable disturbance in the presence of 
 this girl. . . . Dan McGrew had no suspi 
 cion that he had blundered thus on the child 
 who, years before, had been swept away from 
 him in the darkness of the river s flood-tide. 
 . . . Nor did the woman, who stood behind 
 him so wearily, waiting for the end of this 
 tiresome ceremony, guess that the gentle girl, 
 blushing there under the storm of kisses 
 claimed by the crowd, was, in fact, the daugh-
 
 152 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 ter for whose death she had mourned through 
 so many years. . . . Nell did not see the 
 woman at all. 
 
 Of a sudden there came an interruption: 
 
 A man leaped through the doorway. He 
 waved his hands and staggered as one 
 drunken. His voice rose in a raucous shriek: 
 
 "They ve struck it rich on Forgotten 
 Creek!" 
 
 There was a moment of intense stillness. 
 These men had fled from civilization in pur 
 suit of the will-o -the-wisp of gold. Now 
 sounded the clarion call: 
 
 "They ve struck it rich on Forgotten 
 Creek!" 
 
 For long seconds the stillness endured. 
 Then, abruptly, there came a huge cachinna- 
 tion. It was the mellow, roaring laughter of 
 Bert Black, the only negro in this Aladdin 
 village so close up under the Pole. The com 
 pany looked at the man expectantly, and he 
 answered the interrogation in their eyes :
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 153 
 
 "We-all is just shohly goin to have a stam 
 pede!" 
 
 Then, again, the silence held for a little, 
 while each and every man of them saw the 
 vision of the straggled crowd trailing the 
 waste places, lured on by the will-o -the-wisp 
 of gold.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE Fates, in weaving the intricate web 
 of human lives, smile grimly oftentimes 
 over the curious intermingling of the threads. 
 Often, too, the incomplete design might well 
 move them to a cruel mirth, but that they see 
 beyond the seeming tangle of events to the 
 perfecting of their pattern at the last. So, 
 perhaps, they are content of their task, though 
 we mortals, with short-sighted eyes, seeing 
 dimly, look on the happenings of our lives as 
 the blessed or the baneful work of chance. 
 Thus, now, the Fates had brought here, be 
 neath the flickering of the Northern Lights, all 
 the actors in the drama of the years agone, 
 when the happiness of a home had been shat 
 tered by a villain s ruthless passion. Their 
 presence within a short radius of miles had 
 every appearance of purest chance. Never- 
 
 154
 
 155 
 
 theless, the Fates had brought them within 
 reach of one another, that thus the seeming 
 snarl in the threads of these lives might be 
 shown as in fact untangled and woven into a 
 design just and harmonious and beautiful. 
 
 Dan McGrew moved sociably among the 
 men of the village, as they celebrated the wed 
 ding with many jovial libations. He was 
 hail-fellow-well-met with each and all, for it 
 had come to be a matter of professional neces 
 sity with him to attain a fair measure of 
 popularity whithersoever he went. He had 
 deteriorated much with the passage of the 
 years. He had sunk to be a common gambler, 
 and on occasion had not scrupled at worse 
 methods in pursuit of ill-gotten gains. To 
 day his keen eyes were speedily drawn to one 
 of the men, who w r as especially lavish in hos 
 pitality. 
 
 "Who is he?" Dan asked of the bar-tender. 
 "Seems flush, all right." 
 
 "That s Sam Ward," was the answer. 
 "He s got a hole somewhere up in the hills, 
 which nobody don t know nothin about
 
 1 56 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 cept it s cussed rich. Sam blows a pokeful 
 o dust ev ry time he hits town." 
 
 Dan eyed the fortunate prospector greedily, 
 and his predatory instinct brought him to a 
 quick decision. He went to Lou, who was 
 sitting, drearily enough, alone at a table in a 
 corner of the room. He spoke to her softly, 
 that none might overhear, though of this there 
 was little danger amid the noise of rollicking 
 gayety. 
 
 "There s a chap here I mean to chum up 
 with a bit," Dangerous Dan explained. "I ll 
 introduce him, and you must be nice enough 
 to him to make him talk." 
 
 The woman nodded assent. For it had 
 come to such a pass. Often, she had stooped 
 to play decoy for the man in his schemes 
 against his fellows. 
 
 Dan McGrew had persistently lied to this 
 woman. By his arts he had ruined her life. 
 But Lou had still no inkling of the truth. 
 One great fact was impressed upon her as time 
 passed: This man loved her and he was 
 loyal to her. Since she had lost everything
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 157 
 
 dear, it seemed her duty to give the worthless 
 remnant of her life to the one who thus 
 esteemed it something precious. 
 
 When Lou returned to consciousness, after 
 the fever and delirium that seized her the 
 dreadful night of the flight from home, her 
 first question was concerning the drowned 
 child. 
 
 The man at the bedside met her imploring 
 gaze steadfastly, and spoke his falsehoods so 
 convincingly that she had never a doubt 
 The river had been searched with every care, 
 he declared. The body had not been found. 
 The bereaved mother had been denied the last 
 pitiful solace of grief a place of burial 
 wherein to mourn over the lost. 
 
 After the final deprivation, Lou was apa 
 thetic. The light had gone out of her life. 
 She was numb with misery. Her most dis 
 tinct emotion was a sort of passive gratitude 
 toward the man who had so frightfully 
 wronged her. It was in obedience to the 
 promptings of this feeling that Lou meekly
 
 i 5 8 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 accepted his every suggestion. She did so 
 with the more readiness because these sugges 
 tions were so skillfully contrived as to seem 
 the epitome of unselfishness. 
 
 Thus, for example, there was the matter of 
 divorce. Dan learned that the kindly woman 
 into whose house he had brought Lou suffered 
 from nostalgia. She had come out into the 
 West with an eager, improvident husband, 
 who had died and left her with this tiny home, 
 on which the mortgage of a few hundreds 
 rested as a burden beyond her strength to re 
 move. She was sick with longing to go back 
 among the home-folk. Dan s sympathetic 
 voice and candid, honest eyes won confidence 
 from the lonely old woman. And, too, she 
 quickly grew fond of the invalid in her house. 
 Therefore, she had no hesitation in acceding 
 to the proposal made to her by Dan McGrew: 
 that she should travel to the East with Lou, as 
 nurse and companion. The money offered to 
 her by Dan McGrew for these services was 
 enough to ease her declining years. More 
 over, there was the added inducement that, in
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 159 
 
 this manner, she would be able to return to the 
 place for which she longed. 
 
 Lou made no objection to the arrangement 
 She liked the old woman, and the instinct of 
 flight was still upon her. . . . She was only 
 grateful to the man who was at such pains in 
 her behalf. 
 
 In due time, the three were duly established 
 in the East. Dangerous Dan, in the course of 
 his daily visits to Lou from a lodging he had 
 taken close at hand, guided her thoughts so 
 craftily that, with no suspicion of having been 
 influenced, the heart-broken woman decided 
 that she should get a divorce. Dan had 
 chosen a location in a State where desertion 
 was a sufficient cause. Lou brought suit, and 
 the issue was expedited in the courts. She be 
 lieved that thus she gave to her husband an 
 opportunity to marry the woman with whom 
 he had become infatuated, and thus, too, an 
 opportunity to restore in some degree his self- 
 respect. . . . She could not guess that, owing 
 to the treachery of the man on whose advice 
 she relied, her husband had no knowledge
 
 i6o THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 whatsoever of these proceedings. The news 
 papers, with their formal advertisements to 
 the defendant in the action instituted in the 
 courts, were never posted to the address of 
 the ranch-owner. . . . Dan McGrew saw to 
 that. 
 
 Eventually, there came a decree nisi. In 
 due time, the divorce was made absolute. 
 Throughout this interval of delay, the man 
 demonstrated the firmness of his purpose by 
 the patience with which he waited for the at 
 tainment of his ends. 
 
 It was not until a year after her flight from 
 home that Lou became the wife of Dangerous 
 Dan McGrew. . . . Why should she not give 
 herself to him who had so befriended her? 
 
 The late dawn of the morning after the 
 wedding came on clear, with a soft wind 
 blowing from the south. Under its gentle 
 ness, the sun was able to thaw the surface of 
 the snow. Then the wind swung to the north. 
 Within an hour, the crust on the snow, as the 
 Arctic air blew over it, was strong enough
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 161 
 
 to support a horse. And Dan McGrew and 
 many another took advantage of the fact. 
 There were a few meagerly fed horses in the 
 town, remnants from the discontinued Lode 
 star Mine, which had failed to pay a profit, 
 after elaborate installation of equipment. 
 They knew that at the first change of the 
 weather their mounts would become worse 
 than useless. In the meantime, however, 
 there was a luxury in this form of travel that 
 appealed. And there were hangers-on in the 
 town, too poor for a grub-stake, who for a 
 pittance would run on foot with the train, and 
 afterward take back the horses to the village, 
 when a softer snow should make them a hin 
 drance rather than a help. 
 
 Nell used the voice of wifely authority: 
 "Why, the ideal Of course I shall go 
 too!" She was all eagerness. For years she 
 had lived with those who were informed with 
 the spirit of the frontiers. Her husband, thus 
 far in his battling with the Northland, had 
 been successful. He had found claims of 
 value. Some of them he had sold; some of
 
 them he had worked. From most of them he 
 had won a deserved profit. So, when the 
 news of the strike on Forgotten Creek came 
 even though it was his wedding-day Jack 
 Reeves was all agog with anxiety to be off to 
 this region whither fortune beckoned. . . . 
 And Nell would not be left behind. She 
 would follow her husband where fate led. 
 She would not be denied. 
 
 Thus it came about that the bridal pair 
 were among the crowd that surged in the vil 
 lage street before the Dyea Hotel on the 
 morning after their wedding. Jack had a 
 team of dogs, the best within hundreds of 
 miles. They were strong enough to make 
 play of hauling the long sled, laden with pro 
 visions, on which Nell was seated with ease, 
 well-wrapped in furs, and sheltered beneath 
 a drapery of white the skin of a polar bear, 
 which Jack had brought back with him as 
 a trophy of experiences beneath the Arctic 
 night. 
 There were in the throng men who had no
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 163 
 
 dogs. They carried on their backs the small 
 allowance of bacon, beans, flour, tea, coffee, 
 sugar, tobacco. The adventurers were of all 
 sorts. Some went well supplied. Others 
 joined in the stampede recklessly. They might 
 starve, or freeze, out there in the mountains. 
 But they were caught and drawn on by the 
 lust for riches. Somewhere out there in the 
 cold and the distance gold was lying. In the 
 sands of the creeks, in the ledges of the moun 
 tains, were the golden flakes, the riches for 
 which each and every one craved. . . . 
 
 The huskies yelped and snarled in fierce 
 rivalry. Harry, the Dog-Man, snapped his 
 whip with a vicious crack like the report of a 
 gun. The dogs strained against the breast- 
 straps in their fierce lunge forward. Along 
 the line was everywhere impetuous, eager 
 movement. The stampede had begun. 
 
 Dangerous Dan McGrew, who rode beside 
 his wife, spoke to her softly, so that his ques 
 tion would not be overheard by Sam Ward, 
 who rode on her other side:
 
 164 
 
 "What does he say?" 
 Lou answered in a whisper: 
 "He ll leave to-night, when the camp s 
 quiet, for his own claim."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 FROM a nook on the mountainside, a lone 
 man watched scornfully the long, thin 
 line of the stampede. 
 
 Those same threads spun by the Fates had 
 caught another in their mesh. In a lonely 
 hut, there in the desolate Northland, Jim 
 Maxwell had his home. His presence was 
 needful for the weaving of that design by 
 which right should be realized in the final 
 presentation of life s tapestry. He had trav 
 eled thus far beyond the confines of civi 
 lization under the urge of that immutable 
 purpose which drove him in all his wander 
 ings throughout the years to find the man he 
 hated, and the woman he loved. He had 
 sought vainly over all the world in the usual 
 haunts of men in many that were unusual. 
 Never, anywhere, had he found a trace. He 
 had come into this forbidding land, not for 
 
 165
 
 the lure of gold, as the others had come; but 
 for the lure of vengeance against the man who 
 had despoiled him, and for the lure of love 
 toward the woman who had his heart in her 
 keeping. 
 
 Then, somehow, Jim Maxwell, when he 
 found himself isolated there in a cabin amid 
 the loneliness of this land, almost forgot ven 
 geance, almost forgot love, in the immensity 
 of the peace that brooded over the snow-clad 
 wastes. In the hut he had built with his own 
 hands, from spruce timbers, he was snugly 
 sheltered against the austerities of the clime. 
 He had fuel enough, of his gathering along 
 the wooded slopes of the foot-hills. In the 
 maw of the sheet-iron stove, which he had 
 packed, the resinous branches were trans 
 muted into dancing flames, redolent of 
 warmth and cheer in the tiny room of the 
 hut, though outside the blasts from the Pole 
 were cold as the ice from which they 
 came. 
 
 The day of his daughter s wedding 
 though he had no least suspicion that wife, or
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 167 
 
 child, or enemy was within thousands of miles 
 -Jim made a round of his traps. In making 
 the circuit, he was absorbed, without thought, 
 for the time being, of the life that had 
 been, without thought of vengeance, without 
 thought of love. It was only after he had re 
 turned at nightfall to the hut, and had fried 
 his mess of bacon on top of the red-hot stove, 
 and had boiled his coffee hard, as one must 
 in the North, where there is need of all the 
 energy from food, that Jim sat down on his 
 bunk of spruce boughs, ready for sleep yet, 
 for a moment, wakeful. 
 
 Then there sounded softly on his ears that 
 old, old lyric of lore. It was the song that 
 had been played out of the feeling of his heart 
 for his wife, in the years long gone. It was 
 that improvisation with which he had told 
 Lou his passion on the day when he had heard 
 that Dan McGrew was coming to visit them. 
 Now, Jim had no means of audible expression. 
 Nevertheless, the song welled in him. It 
 thrilled in every atom of his being. It was 
 that same wonderful, joyous, lilting melody,
 
 1 68 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 full of life at its best. The tenderness of love 
 rang in its cadences. Jim s fingers tensed 
 they were hungry to seize the chords, rapa 
 cious to pounce on the notes that voiced this 
 heart-song of a lost happiness. 
 
 Jim aroused from the trance of memory. 
 He looked to the fire, and rolled into the bunk. 
 . . . He had heard, that day, in a native 
 iglook, of a find of gold on Forgotten Creek. 
 He recalled the fact drowsily as sleep fell on 
 him. 
 
 "I ll take a look across the valley in the 
 morning," he thought. "There s sure to be a 
 stampede." 
 
 So it came about on the day following the 
 marriage of Nell Ross and Jack Reeves that 
 there was a watcher who looked out over the 
 valley through which the long line of dogs 
 and men hurried toward the possible riches of 
 Forgotten Creek. 
 
 Jim seated himself on the trunk of a fallen 
 spruce, high on the mountainside. From this 
 point, he overlooked the whole length of the 
 valley. He saw at last the animate line dart-
 
 DAN MCC.RKW, STAKING DOWN WITH HUNGRY KYKS, SAW 
 THE MINKR.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 169 
 
 ing out of the distance, and watched as it be 
 came definite, with a smile of cynical amuse 
 ment . . . These were the hunters of gold. 
 And gold Bah! There were only two 
 things in the world : love and vengeance. 
 
 From his seat on the fallen spruce, Jim 
 Maxwell stared out over the valley. For 
 hours he sat there. He saw the breaking up 
 of the company, as its members scattered in 
 various directions, now that they were come 
 into the region of possible wealth. At the 
 last, the valley showed clear of the human 
 invaders. . . . And, just then, Jim Maxwell 
 heard a sound, which already he had learned 
 to know, there in the Northland. It was a 
 gentle sound, but with a sibilance that held a 
 threat of danger like the hiss of a gigantic 
 serpent. 
 
 As he heard, Jim instinctively let out a 
 great shout of fear in the presence of this 
 peril so close upon him. In the same mo 
 ment, without pausing to look up, he dropped 
 from the log on which he had been sitting, 
 and crowded as closely under it as he could,
 
 1 70 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 to make it serve as a bulwark though, in 
 deed, he well knew the futility of such a pro 
 tection against the avalanche that was now 
 crashing down the slope. Crouched there be 
 neath the log, Jim awaited the issue with an 
 unuttered prayer for escape in his heart if 
 escape should be possible. 
 
 In another instant the din of the snow-slide 
 burst on his ears in its full fury. And, along 
 with that thunderous noise, the daylight was 
 blotted out. In the darkness, the man felt the 
 soft, yet inexorable weight of the massed snow 
 crushing upon him, holding him as in a vise. 
 There was a tiny free space still beneath the 
 log, and as yet he had no lack of air. But 
 he was powerless to stir. He realized that 
 there was no possibility of digging his way 
 out through the heaped bulk of snow within 
 which he lay entombed. He could find no 
 room for hope. He resigned himself to meet 
 the end with what fortitude he might. A 
 wave of wrath swept through him that he 
 must die thus futilely, with his vengeance un 
 accomplished. The emotion passed presently,
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 171 
 
 and in its stead came a vast and poignant 
 yearning for the woman he loved. By a 
 fierce effort of will, he fought down such de 
 sires, which he deemed weakness at this time, 
 and strove to look Death in the face calmly, 
 with resignation and without fear. 
 
 Jack Reeves and his bride, despite the ex 
 cellence of the young prospector s dog-team, 
 lagged behind the others in the long line of 
 the stampede, for the young husband had his 
 own ideas concerning a location likely to yield 
 the best results, and meant to let the crowd 
 precede him, in order that he might pursue 
 his course unmarked. So it came about that, 
 after the straggling procession of gold-hunters 
 had passed from the sight of Jim Maxwell, 
 the newly married pair entered the valley, 
 riding at ease behind the leisurely moving 
 dogs. Jim Maxwell, from his position on the 
 mountainside, held his gaze turned toward 
 where the last of the stampeders had vanished, 
 and so failed to observe the newcomers. 
 Thus, when the avalanche swept down upon
 
 1 72 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 him, he had no thought that his wild, instinc 
 tive cry for succor could be heard. 
 
 But it was. A quarter of a mile away, 
 Jack Reeves heard the despairful shout; and 
 Nell, too, heard it. Jack s quick gaze, dart 
 ing in the direction of the sound, caught a 
 glimpse of moving shadow against the white 
 surface of the slope, as Jim dropped from the 
 log to take shelter beneath it. At the same 
 time, there came to Jack s ears the first noise 
 of the avalanche s descent, and he understood 
 fully how great was the peril of the unknown, 
 whose cry for help he had heard. He called 
 to his dogs savagely, and sent them forward 
 toward the slope at speed. Before he had 
 time to explain to the startled Nell, the rush 
 and roar of the snow-slide made clear the situ 
 ation to her, familiar as she was with this peril 
 of the mountains. Yet, ere the hurtling 
 masses of snow buried the spot where he had 
 seen the moving shadow, Jack marked its lo 
 cation precisely by means of an outcropping 
 ledge, just to the right of the tree-trunk. As 
 he went forward swiftly, he noted with re-
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 173 
 
 lief that the slide, which soon ceased, was a 
 comparatively small one, though of a size suf 
 ficient to prove fatal to its victim, unless aided 
 from without. 
 
 At the foot of the slope, some distance to the 
 right of the freshly heaped-up snow, the sled 
 was halted. Jack and Nell put on their snow- 
 shoes, and, with a couple of spades from the 
 pack, made their way with some difficulty to 
 the jutting point of the ledge, which still pro 
 truded a little beyond the new covering of 
 snow. A few feet to the left of this, they be 
 gan to dig, working with feverish haste. 
 They progressed rapidly, for the prospector 
 was in the full prime of his manhood, with 
 muscles like steel, and the girl, if less strong, 
 was in equally perfect condition, and with 
 training enough in the arduous life of the 
 frontier to make the toil simple to her. 
 
 They had dug down perhaps a score of feet, 
 and had reached, as Jack judged, almost to 
 the ground, so that he feared lest he might 
 have mistaken the location, when suddenly 
 Nell rested motionless.
 
 i 7 4 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 "Listen!" she commanded. Her tense face 
 was radiant. 
 
 Jack ceased shoveling, and listened as he 
 had been bidden. 
 
 There came a faint, strangely muffled sound. 
 It came again an indistinguishable, inarticu 
 late mutter from somewhere under the snow 
 at their feet. 
 
 Jack shouted triumphantly. 
 
 "By cricky, Nell," he cried joyously, "we ve 
 struck him, sure as sin!" He raised his voice 
 to its full volume in a cheerful bellow, meant 
 to reach the ears of the imprisoned man 
 below: 
 
 "Buck up, old pal! We ll have you out in 
 a jiffy." Then the bridal pair betook them 
 selves to shoveling with the enthusiasm in 
 spired by success. 
 
 There was no difficulty in the completion 
 of the work of rescue. Very soon, the excava 
 tion reached the log under which Jim Max 
 well was sheltered, and he was able to crawl 
 forth with some difficulty, owing to cramped 
 and aching muscles, but safe and sound. He
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 175 
 
 was a little dazed over his escape, when he 
 had resigned himself to hopelessness. It 
 seemed to him as if a miracle had been 
 wrought in his behalf by the timely appear 
 ance of these two, where he had believed there 
 was none to aid him. His feeling of wonder 
 was increased by the fact that one of these two 
 who had saved him from death, and who now 
 stood beside him supporting him, was a girl, 
 whose dark, lovely face beneath the fur cap 
 was alight with an almost maternal joy over 
 the deliverance in which she had shared. 
 The event seemed, somehow, to soften in a 
 certain degree the nature of the man, embit 
 tered by long years of suffering under a griev 
 ous wrong. For almost the first time since 
 the loss he had sustained at the hands of Dan 
 McGrew, Jim Maxwell felt a warm emotion, 
 which was close to tenderness. He continued 
 to regard the two bewilderedly. But his 
 voice, when at last he spoke, was firm, and 
 vibrant with gratitude: 
 
 "You saved me and I sha n t forget it." 
 He paused for a moment, then added whimsi-
 
 1 76 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 cally: "I don t know who you are, or how 
 you got here unless you re two sure-enough 
 angels, dropped plumb-straight down from 
 heaven for this special occasion." The half- 
 jesting note left his voice. "And I ll say just 
 one thing: If you children erer need a 
 friend, you can call on me, and I shaVt fail 
 you. In the meantime," he added briskly, 
 "I want you to be my guests for the night. 
 My cabin is near by a little way up the gulch 
 there." 
 
 Something in the dignity of his manner as 
 he made the proffer of hospitality, some re 
 finement of inflection in his tones, caused the 
 listeners to look with new curiosity on this 
 roughly dressed man, whose face was almost 
 hidden beneath the thicket of beard. They 
 were moved by a sudden, compelling respect 
 for this uncouth-appearing dweller in the 
 waste. It needed but 2 glance between hus 
 band and wife to ensure their acceptance of 
 the invitation. So, presently, the three rode 
 on together. They felt a certain unusual 
 kindliness in their relation as host and guests.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 177 
 
 They attributed it, as far as they thought of 
 the matter at all, to the peculiar manner of 
 their meeting. . . . They could not guess that 
 strands woven by the Fates had caught them 
 in a mesh for the final right weaving of a 
 perfect design.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AFTER the horses had been given up 
 and sent back, Lou, by Dan s arrange 
 ment, continued the journey on the sled of 
 some men who were not properly of the stam- 
 peders, but were bound for Malamute. Dan 
 himself, hardy as he was, had no difficulty in 
 keeping up the pace with the best of the trav 
 elers on foot. He carried snow-shoes for 
 which he had no present need as the crust held 
 and a light pack on his back. The others 
 of the stampeders regarded him as one of 
 themselves, without ulterior purpose beyond 
 the legitimate finding of gold somewhere in 
 the creek-beds, or within the ledges of the 
 mountains. Only Lou guessed aught of the 
 evil project cherished by her husband. She 
 had little compunction, for her sensibilities 
 had become hardened with the passage of the 
 years, and she had long ceased to regard her- 
 
 178
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 179 
 
 self as in any wise the keeper of Dan s con 
 science. 
 
 Dan himself, as always, had no scruples, 
 though he meant to add yet another to the list 
 of his crimes. He went warily to his work. 
 He held Sam Ward under close observation, 
 but so discreetly that the victim of his watch 
 fulness had no hint of it. As the train strag 
 gled out toward nightfall, Dan contrived to be 
 near his intended victim, though not in com 
 pany with him. Because of the information 
 gathered by Lou, that the miner meant to steal 
 away from the others during the night, Dan 
 gerous Dan had determined to keep a vigil 
 during the hours of darkness, so that, when the 
 miner slipped away by stealth, thinking him 
 self unobserved by any one, he would be able 
 to follow as stealthily, and thus to trace the 
 owner to the secret mine. 
 
 To one of Dangerous Dan McGrew s ac 
 complishments the task was very simple. 
 The night was clear, and he became aware at 
 once when Sam Ward prepared to set forth. 
 He allowed the miner to proceed for a con-
 
 i8o THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 siderable distance before following. Against 
 the white surface of the snow, the moving 
 form was distinguishable for a long way, and, 
 since it alone in the expanse moved at all, it 
 was not to be mistaken. But, while the miner 
 was so distinctly visible to his pursuer, Dan 
 McGrew had little fear of being himself ob 
 served, since no eyes were seeking his presence 
 there. So, separated by a considerable dis 
 tance, the two men advanced through the 
 night, ascending at a smart pace from the level 
 reaches of the valley to the lower slopes of the 
 mountains. Here the spruce cast black 
 shade, and often gorges lay deep in shadow. 
 Dan was forced to lessen the distance between 
 himself and the one he followed. Often, he 
 was hard put to it to keep close enough on his 
 quarry to be sure of the man s movements, 
 without revealing his own presence on the 
 trail. Some risks he took, since needs must. 
 But the danger of discovery did not trouble 
 Dangerous Dan, for he had never lacked 
 courage, whatever his other vices. 
 
 It was in the gray of the dawn when at last
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 181 
 
 Sam Ward halted, with a grunt of satisfac 
 tion, which the listening man, crouched be 
 hind a stump fifty yards away, plainly heard 
 through the motionless chill air. The miner 
 cast off the pack that he had carried through 
 out most of the day and all of the night, and 
 began hasty preparations for pitching camp. 
 ... It was evident that Sam Ward had 
 reached his destination. 
 
 Assured that this was the end of the jour 
 ney, Dangerous Dan silently withdrew to a 
 sheltered nook within the trees, a full quarter 
 of a mile from the other s camp. Here he 
 built a fire, without any fear of its light being 
 seen by Sam Ward ; for, besides the screen of 
 trees, a high ridge intervened between the two 
 camps. Dan, owing to the unusual mildness 
 of the night, did not trouble with piling green 
 logs against which to stack his fire, but con 
 tented himself with selecting a spot where a 
 steep bank at his back aided in the retention of 
 the heat. 
 
 Tired as he was, Dangerous Dan gathered 
 sufficient fuel ready at hand, so that he might
 
 replenish the blaze, arousing instinctively 
 from sleep as the flames died down. He 
 guessed that the miner would sleep late, after 
 the fatigue of the trip. But he allowed him 
 self only two hours of rest; for he had yet 
 much to do, and weariness must await leisure. 
 Dan McGrew could sacrifice selfish desires 
 for the time being in order to attain to selfish 
 ends. 
 
 The sun was well above the horizon, when 
 Dan McGrew at last arose reluctantly, and 
 stamped out the dying embers. He rolled up 
 his pack, but left it where he had camped. 
 He carried a revolver with him, but he had no 
 intention of using it, lest the report attract 
 the attention of some chance prospector in the 
 vicinity. He was not quite sure, even, that he 
 meditated violence it might not be necessary. 
 But, before setting forth, he drew from its 
 sheath, hidden within his bosom, a long, 
 wicked-looking knife, the blade of which he 
 examined approvingly, testing its edge with a 
 bare thumb. When he had returned the 
 weapon to its place of concealment, he went
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 183 
 
 forward very cautiously, his feet leaving 
 hardly a trace of their passage over the snow- 
 crust. He took advantage of the shelter af 
 forded by bushes and trees, so that his ap 
 proach might not be detected. Thus, he came 
 finally to a vantage point behind a clump of 
 bushes, which grew on a little knoll. Below 
 this, hardly a score of yards away, was Sam 
 Ward s camp. 
 
 The miner was just arousing from sleep, 
 when Dan reached this point of observation. 
 While the hidden man watched attentively, 
 Sam Ward replenished the fire, and hastily 
 prepared a breakfast, which he devoured even 
 more hastily. Forthwith, then, he set about 
 the serious business of the day. To the 
 watcher s surprise, the miner removed a heap 
 of firewood, which had been stacked against 
 the sloping bank, some distance above a tiny 
 frozen stream. When the branches had been 
 thrown aside, there was revealed an opening 
 through the snow, and on into the earth itself. 
 It was evident that the miner had already tun 
 neled into the ledge.
 
 1 84 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 Now, he got dynamite from his pack, and 
 set it carefully where it might thaw out within 
 the radius of heat from the fire. Thereafter, 
 he crawled into the tunnel, and was occupied 
 out of the watcher s sight for some time. On 
 emergence, he examined the dynamite, and, 
 satisfied with its condition, took it, along with 
 caps and fuse, on his return into the tunnel. 
 This time, he was gone for only a short inter 
 val. Presently, came a dull rumble as the ex 
 plosive detonated within the earth. The 
 miner reentered the tunnel, carrying a bag. 
 When he brought this forth, he was stagger 
 ing under the weight it contained. 
 
 Dan McGrew, staring down with hungry 
 eyes, saw the miner pound the fragments of 
 rock to powder in a roughly contrived mortar, 
 which was set beside the fire. Dangerous 
 Dan had learned enough of gold-mining to 
 understand that the miner had chanced on a 
 quartz lead of the richest sort. Undoubtedly, 
 it was a vein of considerable size which would 
 assay thousands of dollars to the ton. It was 
 free-milling ore. The rough method em-
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 185 
 
 ployed by the miner was sufficient to secure the 
 golden treasure. Now, when he had made an 
 end of crushing the bits of rock, Sam de 
 scended to the creek, where he chopped a hole 
 through the ice, and so, after great labor, was 
 able to winnow the dust. Dan McGrew was 
 able to see the golden stream of tiny flakes that 
 the miner at last poured into his poke, with 
 chuckles of glee. The watcher s steady eyes 
 narrowed and grew savage, for black envy 
 and avarice filled his heart. Of a sudden, his 
 vague purpose became crystallized. . . . He 
 would have this mine for his own at any cost. 
 Dangerous Dan looked over the scene care 
 fully, as he made his plans. The little stream, 
 above which the miner had encamped, ran 
 straight between shallow banks out into a 
 broad valley beyond. Dan was sure that he 
 could advance to a point on the slope where he 
 would be just above his unsuspecting prey. 
 Thence, he could drop down on the miner, 
 who, all unconscious of any peril, squatted be 
 fore the fire gloating over his treasure. A 
 single blow of the knife would put a term to
 
 1 86 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 his ownership of the mine. Afterward, it 
 would be a simple matter to conceal the body 
 in some cranny where only the wolves would 
 be likely to scent it out. And Dan McGrew 
 would have the treasure-house for his own. 
 
 His decision made, Dan acted upon it at 
 once. It came about according to his calcula 
 tions with two exceptions: 
 
 The first was that, as he leaped upon his vic 
 tim from behind, some faintest sound of move 
 ment, or some subtle instinct in the victim, 
 gave warning. Sam Ward sprang to his feet, 
 whirling as he rose. The lust of gold was in 
 him, too. On the instant, he understood the 
 death that threatened and the cause of it. He 
 fought for his life and his gold with all the 
 strength that was in him. He got his hands 
 to his assailant s throat, and the fingers 
 clutched in a clutch meant to kill. Dangerous 
 Dan s eyes goggled from his head as he 
 strangled within that grip. But he did not 
 forget, even in his anguish, either his purpose 
 or his advantage. He thrust the knife w^ith 
 all his power into the miner s breast. For a
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 187 
 
 second that seemed to endure for an eternity, 
 Dan was still held in the vice-like grasp. 
 Then abruptly, there came a gurgling moan 
 from Sam Ward s lips. The clenched ringers 
 relaxed. Dan thrust the form of his adversary 
 from him. The haft of the knife, which he 
 still held in his right hand, was broken from 
 the blade by the wrench of the inert body, as 
 it fell and went limply sliding down the slope 
 toward the creek. 
 
 Dan McGrew gazed on the grim descent 
 with eyes that were dull still from the deadly 
 grapple. His breath came in sobs. He was 
 triumphant, but he realized how close he had 
 been to failure. 
 
 Then, a minute later, when his brain and 
 his sight were clear again, he suddenly uttered 
 a frightful curse. . . . 
 
 In the wide expanse of the valley into which 
 the creek flowed, a sled moved rapidly, as the 
 dogs strained in their harness. And it was 
 coming straight toward the creek toward the 
 place where he stood. Dangerous Dan 
 McGrew cursed yet once again and more
 
 1 88 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 horribly. Then, he leaped down the slope to 
 where the dead body had halted. He stooped 
 over it searched with desperate rapidity. A 
 moment later, with the poke of gold and a few 
 papers from the dead man, Dangerous Dan 
 raced back up the bank, and on, flying from the 
 spot where he had committed a crime so great 
 for a reward so small.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE bridal pair were at once astonished 
 and gratified by the entertainment of 
 fered them in this remote wilderness. There 
 was nothing remarkable in their surroundings 
 at the cabin. The fare provided was of the 
 simplest. The effect on the two visitors was 
 produced wholly by the personality of the 
 man himself. As the men sat in easy com 
 munion over their pipes, while Nell listened 
 eagerly, Jim Maxwell, still under the influ 
 ence of that softer feeling aroused by gratitude 
 to the two who had rescued him, relaxed from 
 the usual aloofness toward his fellows, and 
 talked of many things in a manner of singular 
 charm. Jack Reeves had had excellent ad 
 vantages in education, before ever the spirit of 
 adventure drove him toward the Arctic. As 
 
 he perceived the extent of the older man s ex- 
 
 189
 
 190 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 perience, he plied his host with questions. 
 To these, Jim responded readily at first from 
 courtesy, and then, moved by patent interest 
 on the part of his hearers, with a certain en 
 thusiasm. He found a long-forgotten pleas 
 ure in thus speaking at ease of the things he 
 felt to sympathetic auditors. In the years of 
 his wandering and suffering, the man s nature 
 had deepened and mellowed, even though it 
 was shut within the crust of bitterness. So, to 
 night, he gave himself unreservedly to this 
 new mood of genial intercourse. He mar 
 veled over his own changed mood, but in 
 dulged it to the full, nevertheless. In a gen 
 tle, unfamiliar fashion, Jim Maxwell was 
 almost happy to-night almost happy, for the 
 first time in twelve years. 
 
 Nell s presence moved him deeply, though 
 she sat silent for the most part. Her close at 
 tention was a compliment greater than any 
 words she could have uttered. Jim Maxwell 
 felt this, and yielded to the inspiration of it. 
 He was by no means unaware of the piquant 
 loveliness of the girl. His critical apprecia-
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 191; 
 
 tion was betrayed by many swift, penetrating 
 glances at the rapt face. The dusk, lucent 
 beauty of her eyes especially appealed to him. 
 In them, he glimpsed her soul, full of the joy 
 of life, a-thrill with expectation of the happi 
 ness that awaited, pure and undaunted by any 
 fear of evil. As he looked on her, Jim s ad 
 miring gaze was always a little wistful. Since 
 the tragedy in his life, women had had no in 
 terest for him, because he had lost her whom 
 he loved. To-night, somehow, it was dif 
 ferent. He felt himself strangely drawn to 
 this unknown girl. His heart stirred toward 
 her. It was not an emotion of which even a 
 bridegroom could complain it was something 
 utterly untouched by any instinct of sex, some 
 thing subtle and exquisite. Jim himself could 
 not understand his feeling in the least. Only, 
 he yielded to the spell of it with delight. 
 
 The host left his guests in possession, when 
 it came the hour for retiring. He was deaf to 
 their remonstrances, and betook himself to an 
 outbuilding, which had been his first shelter 
 in this place, before the making of the cabin.
 
 192 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 Left alone with her husband, Nell spoke 
 musingly, very softly: 
 
 "What a wonderful man, Jack! He is the 
 sort of man I should like " She broke off, 
 staring with vaguely puzzled, unseeing eyes at 
 the glowing stove. 
 
 "Now, what do you mean by that?" the 
 bridegroom demanded, with asperity. 
 
 Nell aroused from introspection at the 
 shortness of the husband s tone. Then she 
 laughed. 
 
 "Don t be absurd, goosie!" she bantered. 
 "I actually believe you d like to be jealous of 
 the first man I ve met on our honeymoon." 
 Her voice softened. "Well, you needn t be. 
 But he is a dear, all the same." 
 
 Something in her tone quelled the young 
 husband s impulse of alarm. Straightway, he 
 spoke his own admiration, without further 
 jealousy. 
 
 "He sure is a wonder," he declared emphat 
 ically. "He s one of the sort who could make 
 himself at home and make himself the 
 center of attraction, too anywhere around
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 193 
 
 the world, with high or low or Jack or the 
 game." 
 
 A little later, he spoke again, reflectively: 
 
 "I wonder what he did!" 
 
 "What he did!" Nell repeated, bewildered. 
 
 "Whether he robbed a bank, or just mur 
 dered somebody," Jack explained. 
 
 Nell flared. 
 
 "He s not that sort!" she flung at him. 
 Then, her eyes grew dreamy again. 
 
 "But," she added and there was a note of 
 sympathetic tenderness in her voice "perhaps 
 it was something that somebody else did." 
 
 "Eh?" Jack demanded, perplexed -*n his 
 turn. 
 
 "I mean," Nell said, half-apologetically, 
 "perhaps it was something some crime even 
 -some one else did that made Mr. Maxwell 
 come away off here, to live alone in the moun 
 tains. A man like him!" 
 
 Next morning, Jack and Nell went on their 
 way, almost regretfully, so great was the im 
 pression made upon both by this man whom 
 they had rescued from death. Still without
 
 i 9 4 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 haste, Jack drove his dogs over the level val 
 ley-crust. As it drew toward night, he se 
 lected for his camp a point where a few 
 stunted spruce grew a little way up the slope. 
 
 "I guess we re alone in our glory," he com 
 mented, as his eyes swept the scene. "Not a 
 stampeder in sight and I m glad of it. You 
 see," he continued, as Nell looked at him in 
 quiringly, "I ve been over this way before. 
 There s a creek flows in here from the other 
 side of the valley. I was up it once. It 
 showed some prospects. I d like another look 
 at it without any stampeders by. And 
 there s not a one in sight." 
 
 "I wonder!" While Jack went to 
 straighten out the over-lively dogs, Nell took 
 the field-glasses from their case, and amused 
 herself with a careful scrutiny of this white 
 world over which now lay a purpling glamour 
 as the sun sank wearily below the horizon. 
 
 Suddenly, there was a moving blur, a fleet 
 ing black shadow, in the line of vision. 
 Hitherto, there had been no sign of life any 
 where. This trace of activity, in the stillness
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 195 
 
 of the snow-clad wild, interested her, even 
 startled her a little, though she had no thought 
 that it could be more than a glimpse of some 
 stampeder plodding through the distance. 
 
 Nell adjusted the glasses, and sought again. 
 Then, in a flash, she saw clearly a camp-fire 
 burning, a man squatted close to the flames. 
 There was nothing out of the ordinary in the 
 scene. It was not the sight of camp-fire and 
 man beside it that caused Nell s cheek to pale, 
 that caused her hand to shake, until for a 
 moment the vision was blurred, that caused the 
 little gasp from her lips. It was another fig 
 ure thus revealed there in the far distance that 
 so affected her another figure high up on the 
 slope, which moved with a craftiness and 
 stealth that were in themselves sinister. These 
 were the slinking movements of a beast of prey. 
 But the figure was that of a man. 
 
 Nell called to Jack softly, as if she feared 
 lest, across the valley-space, that skulking man 
 might hear her cry. 
 
 When Jack came to her, Nell put the glasses 
 in his hands.
 
 196 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 "Look there!" she directed, and pointed. 
 Afterward, she sat tensed and apprehensive in 
 her place on the sled, while her husband stood 
 at her side, and looked as she had bidden him. 
 
 An ejaculation burst from Jack as his eyes 
 caught the action in that drama across the val 
 ley. Through a long minute, and another, 
 he rested rigid, silent. Suddenly, with an 
 imprecation, he tossed the glasses toward Nell. 
 He pointed desperately across the valley, then 
 sprang to the dogs, and straightened them out, 
 his voice so harsh that they cringed under it. 
 
 "Mush!" he yelled savagely, and the whip 
 lash hissed its message to the leaders. . . . 
 They were off at full speed. 
 
 "Too late!" Jack groaned, as the dogs 
 bounded forward. "Oh, damn him! I hope 
 he hangs for it the dirty murderer!" 
 
 It was, indeed, too late. When they were 
 come up the lesser valley, through which the 
 creek ran, to a point near where the body of 
 Sam Ward was lying, Jack halted the dogs, 
 and went forward alone. He would not 
 yield to Nell s pleadings that she be allowed
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 197 
 
 to accompany him. He was not minded that 
 she should thus look on the assassin s victim. 
 
 Jack returned very soon. 
 
 "Dead as a door-nail !" he said shortly. His 
 face was a little pale under the bronze of 
 open-air living. "A knife-blade in his chest 
 handle broken off. We ve seen the chap. 
 It was Sam Ward. Had a secret mine, they 
 said." 
 
 Jack chose a camp-site close at hand, to 
 which he removed the body of the murdered 
 man, so that it would be protected from any 
 prowling wolf. He brought down to his 
 camp the dead man s pack, and he covered the 
 still and rigid shape decently with one of the 
 blankets that had been Sam Ward s. He 
 made no attempt to trace the assassin. To 
 have done so would have been useless in it 
 self, and would have been to risk the like 
 death. Nor did he make even a cursory 
 se?~ch for the secret mine. He had no wish 
 for personal profit out of this grewsome event. 
 On the contrary, he was willing to delay his 
 operations in the mountains, in order that he
 
 i 9 8 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 might deliver the corpse to the authorities, and 
 make known to them the facts in the case. 
 
 "We ll put him on the sled in the morning," 
 he said to Nell, who was very quiet, and who 
 turned her eyes from time to time fearfully 
 toward a place just on the edge of the fire 
 light, where flickering shadows danced gro 
 tesquely over a deeper shadow a shadow 
 huge and misshapen and menacing. 
 
 "We ll take him up to Kalmak. It s a lit 
 tle place on the way to Malamute. But they 
 have a sheriff, and that s what we need." 
 
 And neither he nor his wife, who looked 
 from time to time affrightedly toward the 
 shadows, had any hint as to the irony that the 
 Fates had put into the husband s concluding 
 words.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 DAN McGREW, from a point of safe 
 concealment, watched the coming of 
 the sled with keen interest. He was still fu 
 rious over the miscarriage in his plans caused 
 by this arrival. There was no longer possi 
 bility of his holding the secret of the mine for 
 himself. In return for the blood on his hands, 
 he had gained a single poke of gold-dust. 
 His chief concern now was the evading of 
 any possible suspicion against himself. His 
 thoughts were busy with this problem of 
 safety. At his distance, and in the darkening 
 light, he could not make out the identity of 
 the man who examined the body of Sam Ward, 
 and afterward removed it. Since Nell did 
 not leave the sled, he did not guess even that 
 one of the two was a woman. But it did oc 
 cur to him that, since the arrival of these per 
 sons had thwarted his evil hopes, it would be 
 
 199
 
 200 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 fitting that they themselves should serve his 
 need as the scape-goats of suspicion. 
 
 Once this idea had stirred in his brain, Dan 
 gerous Dan found little difficulty in planning 
 the accomplishment of his designs. He re 
 mained in hiding, without venturing even to 
 light a fire though he was hard put to it to 
 resist the numbing cold. It was not till some 
 hours after nightfall, when he judged the two 
 in their camp safely asleep, that Dangerous 
 Dan acted on the plan he had formed. 
 
 He crept with the utmost caution down the 
 slope, and made a wide detour, so as to come 
 near the camp to windward of the point where 
 he heard the little yelps and whinings of dogs 
 restless in their sleep. The night was clear, 
 and, even within the shadows of the trees 
 about the camp, Dan could see distinctly 
 where the sled stood outside the limit of the 
 firelight. Toward this, with increased care 
 and slowness in the progress, Dan made his 
 way. 
 
 He had almost reached the sled, when he 
 stumbled over what he had deemed merely a
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 201 
 
 deeper shadow beside it, and sprawled for 
 ward. To save himself from falling, he 
 thrust out his right hand. The palm touched 
 something cold with a coldness beyond that 
 of the arctic air. It was the face of the man 
 whom he had slain, from off which his rough 
 contact had thrust the blanket. And Dan 
 McGrew knew the thing for what it was. 
 
 Strong man that he was, he was sickened. 
 For a little, he stood there shivering, unnerved 
 by the grisly encounter. But it was only the 
 shock that had unmanned him. Presently, 
 his courage rose again. He grinned to him 
 self, standing there in the dark over the dead 
 body. Here was nothing to be afraid of, he 
 said to himself in brutal disdain of his own 
 weakness. So, soon, he went on again, quite 
 undismayed, to carry out his purpose. 
 
 Noiselessly, Dangerous Dan fumbled over 
 the pack on the sled for some minutes. Once, 
 he put a hand in his pocket, and drew forth 
 something, which he disposed within the 
 wrappings of the pack. Finally, he read 
 justed everything, as nearly as he could by the
 
 202 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 sense of touch, to the condition in which he 
 had found it. Only, there was something 
 added to the contents. For once in his life, 
 Dangerous Dan had not been a robber. Yet, 
 never had his intent been more deadly. 
 
 His task thus accomplished, the man with 
 drew as silently as he had come. Neverthe 
 less, despite his bravado, he was at pains to 
 tread aside, lest he brush a second time against 
 that blanketed form. 
 
 Jack and Nell were up and away early. 
 They made good speed with the grewsome 
 burden on the sled. They ran easily without 
 snow-shoes, for the crust still held. Jack 
 was distressed that his bride should be un 
 able to ride luxuriously on their honeymoon. 
 But for this Nell cared not at all. In her 
 youth and perfect health, the physical ac 
 tivity was, in truth, a pleasure, rather than a 
 toil. But she was disturbed by the presence 
 of that grim thing which they escorted. She 
 could not avoid yielding in some measure to 
 superstition. The radiant joy of her bridal
 
 203 
 
 was quenched by this tragedy that had fol 
 lowed so close upon it, and into association 
 with which they had been forced by circum 
 stance. Her mood was oppressed with fore 
 bodings. She was all anxiety to reach Kalmak, 
 where they might be rid of this ill-omened 
 clay. So, she urged Jack often to increase the 
 pace. And he, for his part, hardly less sensi 
 tive to this malignant influence at such a time, 
 consented readily enough, hurrying on the 
 dogs with whip and voice. . . . The train 
 swung into Kalmak in mid-afternoon at least 
 an hour sooner than it would have made the 
 distance with a lighter load. 
 
 Jack halted the dogs before the very unpre 
 tentious structure that was inappropriately 
 designated the Grand Hotel. At sound of the 
 arrival, those within hurried forth, eager for 
 any interruption of the day s monotony. 
 Among the others came a tall, lank man, with 
 a lantern-jawed face and a drooping, melan 
 choly mustache, whom Jack recognized as Hal 
 Owens, the sheriff. He himself, however, 
 was not known to Owens, or to any of those
 
 204 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 present, nor was Nell, as they were speedily 
 to learn to their sorrow. Another face in the 
 group was vaguely familiar to both the young 
 husband and his bride. Jack, for the mo 
 ment, could not recall where he had seen this 
 stalwart, handsome man, who stood with a 
 masterful erectness, emphasized by his frank 
 and fearless gaze. But Nell, in the instant of 
 seeing the stranger, recollected him perfectly, 
 though she had seen him but once in a fleet 
 ing glance. She remembered how he had ap 
 peared on her wedding-day, and how he had 
 regarded her with that cynical smile, which 
 had aroused in her an inexplicable sense of 
 dismay, a fear of mysterious disasters, past 
 or to come. It seemed to her appropriate 
 enough that now this man should be present to 
 welcome her and her husband as they brought 
 in their ghastly load. Again, she experienced 
 a curious repugnance in meeting the steady 
 stare that seemed to probe into her soul with 
 a mocking amusement. Nell wrenched her 
 eyes from his, and turned away with a little 
 shudder of revulsion. Then, the natural
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 205 
 
 buoyancy of her spirits asserted itself. After 
 all, this man, who affected her so strangely, 
 was nothing to them could be nothing to 
 them. And they were at last free of the hor 
 rible incubus that had been thrust upon them. 
 The dead body was now gone out of their 
 charge, was become the property of the law. 
 She smiled, a little wanly, while her eyes 
 moved over the roughly garbed cluster of men. 
 She was glad oh, so glad ! that miserable in 
 terruption of their honeymoon was done and 
 over. 
 
 Jack addressed the sheriff briskly, himself 
 almost as anxious as Nell to have done with 
 this wretched matter. 
 
 "This is your business, Sheriff. I ve 
 brought in the body of a chap who got killed 
 out Forgotten Creek way, yesterday after 
 noon." 
 
 The sheriff nodded with what he took to be 
 the dignity befitting his authority. 
 
 "The coroner should set on the corpse," he 
 said gravely, pleased at this display of his fa 
 miliarity with legal phrases. "In his absence
 
 206 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 bein there hain t none I reckon I ll do the 
 best I kin." 
 
 He strode to the sled, and pulled aside the 
 blanket that had concealed the dead man s 
 face. He turned to the men who had crowded 
 around. 
 
 " Anybody know him?" he demanded, au 
 thoritatively. 
 
 There was a chorus of grunts in negation. 
 
 Then, as the others fell silent, Jack spoke 
 again: 
 
 "I knew him by sight, though I never spoke 
 to him. His name was Sam Ward. They 
 said he d struck it rich a secret mine some 
 where in the mountains." 
 
 "Know anything more about him?" The 
 sheriff s voice was heavy with responsibility. 
 
 Jack made an impatient gesture. 
 
 "He was in the stampede that came up to 
 Forgotten Creek day before yesterday. You 
 know?" 
 
 "I know," the sheriff assented. "What else 
 do you know?" 
 
 "I know he s dead," Jack snapped. He was
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 207 
 
 heartily sick of this business, and his temper 
 grew strained. "If you have any doubt about 
 it," he added sarcastically, "why, I saw him 
 killed." 
 
 There was a general start of surprise over 
 this bald announcement. The sheriff, how 
 ever, preserved his official composure. 
 
 "That ought to help some," was his response. 
 "Supposing now, you fire ahead, an tell all 
 you know about this corpse o your n." 
 
 "No corpse of mine!" Jack retorted gruffly, 
 more than ever annoyed, while Nell felt a 
 qualm of new dread at the sheriff s ambiguous 
 words. But Jack curbed his impatience, and 
 related in detail what he knew concerning the 
 incidents of the tragedy. 
 
 His hearers listened intently. There were 
 features in this murder that gave it a certain 
 distinction. The fact that it had been wit 
 nessed from such a distance through the field- 
 glasses gave it a charm of novelty that a mere 
 murder must otherwise have lacked. The 
 men, who had hitherto been stealing many a 
 sly glance toward the young woman with the
 
 208 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 dainty face and glowing eyes, now stared at 
 her with open admiration for the one who had 
 first seen the assassin s advance upon his vic 
 tim, and had guessed his deadly purpose. All 
 those present accepted the truth of the narra 
 tive without question. The young man s 
 frank expression and the simplicity of his 
 story, strange as it was, carried conviction. 
 Moreover, it was well-nigh impossible to sus 
 pect this beautiful girl of any complicity in 
 crime. So, the account was accepted by all 
 hearers as truth, and it occurred to none even 
 to question it. ... To none, save one. And 
 that one was he who, of his own knowledge, 
 best knew that it was truth. Yet, he would 
 question, and to some purpose for his own 
 safety s sake. 
 
 The formalities of the occasion thus fully 
 satisfied, the sheriff ordered the corpse re 
 moved to a back room in the hotel, where it 
 was laid out on the table. Before replacing 
 the blanket, the sheriff withdrew the blade of 
 the knife from the dead man s breast. 
 
 "It s a clew," he explained, with obvious
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 209 
 
 admiration for his own sagacity, as he wiped 
 the blackened blood from the blade upon the 
 blanket. 
 
 Dan McGrew had followed the four men 
 who, at the sheriff s direction, carried the body 
 into the hotel. He was known here, as 
 through most of the region round about, 
 where he was regarded as an honest gam 
 bler for his methods had improved in the 
 twelve years since his discomfiture by Fingie 
 Whalen. 
 
 To be here at this time, Dangerous Dan 
 McGrew had employed the resources of both 
 mind and body. His reasoning had con 
 vinced him that Kalmak would be Jack s des 
 tination in the trip. He had been obliged to 
 risk the correctness of this conclusion in order 
 that he might be free to start for the village 
 at once, after completing his night-visit to the 
 young man s camp. Since he must travel on 
 foot, and slowly because of increasing fatigue, 
 he had need of all the time he could gain for 
 the journey, in order to reach the scene first. 
 He had succeeded. Even, he had had time
 
 210 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 for an hour s sleep, which was craved by every 
 atom in his body after a day and two nights 
 of almost constant exertion. 
 
 So, now, Dan McGrew was on the spot, 
 alert and arrogant with evil purpose. He 
 stepped close to the sheriff, and spoke so that 
 the others could not overhear. He knew the 
 harmless vanity of the official, and meant to 
 play upon it for his own ends, by letting the 
 other take credit on himself for great shrewd 
 ness. 
 
 "You think that youngster s story is a bit 
 fishy, I see!" Dan remarked; and there was 
 deep admiration in his voice. 
 
 The sheriff, who had thought nothing of the 
 sort, immediately assumed an air of suspicion, 
 and nodded assent. 
 
 "Fishy very!" he agreed. 
 
 "Of course," Dan continued deprecatingly, 
 as if even to question this were an imperti 
 nence on his part, "you ll search that young 
 man s pack?" 
 
 The sheriff nodded glumly. 
 
 "It s my sworn duty to do jest that."
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 211 
 
 Dan sauntered away, well content. He 
 went out of the hotel, and stood unobtrusively 
 among the other idlers, watching while Jack 
 and Nell, restored to the best of spirits by the 
 completion of their unpleasant duty, were now 
 laughing and chatting together as they busied 
 themselves about the sled. 
 
 Presently appeared the sheriff. He ap 
 proached the sled, and spoke with a harshness 
 he had not hitherto displayed. 
 
 "Young feller, I ll jest take a look through 
 your pack." 
 
 Jack and Nell glanced up in amazement at 
 the tone no less than at the words. 
 
 "But what what the devil do you mean?" 
 Jack demanded, wrathfully. 
 
 "Never you mind what I mean, young fel 
 ler," was the offended retort. The sheriff 
 threw back the lapel of the heavy outer coat 
 he wore, and showed a silver shield. "There s 
 my authority," he sternly announced. "I ll 
 jest take a squint through your belonging." 
 
 Jack and Nell protested, but their protests 
 were in vain. The sheriff in explanation
 
 vouchsafed only a single word, most contemp 
 tuously uttered : 
 
 "Fishy!" 
 
 In the end, the young pair stood by in mute 
 indignation, while the official search was 
 prosecuted. . . . They had one consolation in 
 the presence of this outrage: The search 
 would prove its own absurdity. 
 
 The issue came on them like a thunderbolt. 
 From somewhere in the pack, the sheriff s 
 groping fingers drew forth an object, which he 
 held up that all might see. It was undoubt 
 edly the bone handle of a large knife. With 
 out a word, the sheriff reached into a pocket 
 of his coat, and brought forth the blade which 
 had been in the dead man s breast. Still with 
 out a word, while all looked on in breathless 
 tension, he put blade and haft together. They 
 fitted perfectly. 
 
 The sheriff s mouth, under the drooping 
 mustache, twisted in a triumphant grin. An 
 amazed consternation held Jack and Nell si 
 lent for the moment in the face of this damn 
 ing evidence against them. The sheriff
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 213 
 
 moved forward a step, and laid his hand on 
 Jack s shoulder. 
 
 "Young feller," he said heavily, "I arrest 
 you in the name of the law, for the murder 
 of Sam Ward, deceased. And don t say any- 
 thin ," he added, in paraphrase of the legal 
 formula, "for what you say will be used agin 
 ye."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE catastrophe that had thus put an end 
 to the honeymoon, drove the unfor 
 tunate husband and wife almost to despair. 
 The thing was monstrous, incredible. Never 
 theless, it had occurred. Jack raged against 
 the unjust accusation which Dan McGrew 
 had caused to be laid against him; but neither 
 his wrath nor his entreaties were powerful 
 enough to create even a doubt on the part of 
 the public of Kalmak as to his guilt. The 
 evidence against him was, in fact, incontro 
 vertible. His case was made the worse, also, 
 by the absence of any one who could vouch for 
 his character. Given time, he could easily 
 enough summon witnesses in his behalf, 
 though even then the issue might be uncertain. 
 He had no plausible explanation to offer con 
 cerning the presence of the knife-handle 
 among his effects. He could only deny all 
 
 214
 
 THE SHOOTING OF BAN McGREW 215 
 
 knowledge of how it came there. And such 
 denial was utterly valueless, as Jack himself 
 realized with utter discouragement. 
 
 As for Nell, there was only a single thing 
 to mitigate her misery, and of this she was 
 hardly conscious. It was that she herself was 
 not subjected to the indignity of arrest. In 
 this matter, the chivalry of the community 
 worked in her behalf. These men of the 
 Northland were not of a sort to war against 
 women. They left such warfare to a more 
 complex state of civilization. 
 
 But, in truth, no arrest was needed for the 
 unhappy bride. Nothing could have tempted 
 her to leave the place where her husband was 
 in peril. Indeed, she was like a thorn in the 
 side of the sheriff s ideas concerning official 
 strictness and decorum and rose as well as 
 thorn; for the winsome loveliness of this suf 
 fering girl disturbed him greatly, so that he 
 was fain to grant her privileges which ill ac 
 corded with his conception of official etiquette. 
 It was owing to this laxness under Nell s per 
 suasion that she was permitted to interview
 
 216 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 her husband, though separated from him by 
 the heavy grating in the cell-door, and though 
 fretted by the presence of the sheriff himself, 
 who sat within ear-shot, and forbade secret 
 communication. . . . Those interviews har 
 rowed the souls of the lovers, for, though each 
 strove to cheer the other, neither could under 
 stand how this calamity had come to pass. 
 Nell occupied the intervals between visits to 
 her husband in frantic efforts to devise some 
 means of proving Jack s innocence, or in piti 
 able weeping, shut within her squalid hotel- 
 room. 
 
 It was in the forenoon of the day following 
 his arrest that the prisoner had his first glim 
 mer of hope. It came to him while he was 
 surveying for the thousandth time the roughly- 
 hewn timbers that made the walls of his cell. 
 He had long ago admitted the uselessness of 
 trying to break out, inasmuch as he had not 
 even a penknife with which to work. Yet, 
 now, as his glance roved the tiny room, his 
 eyes lighted with hope. 
 
 Forthwith, Jack began plotting escape.
 
 WAS PKR.VITTF.l) TO INTERVIEW HKR HUSBAND.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 217 
 
 He understood that his situation was most des 
 perate. The sheriff, who from pride in his 
 office had added the cell to his log-house at 
 his own expense, was fond of sitting on guard 
 in the adjoining room; not so much for the 
 sake of precaution against the prisoner s es 
 cape, as for pleasure in receiving visitors, in 
 the full majesty of his office. And Jack had 
 heard some of the low-spoken remarks of the 
 visitors among themselves. He knew that 
 these men of primitive emotions looked upon 
 him as a murderer, and were disposed to end 
 the affair in a lynching-bee. Only the sheriff 
 interposed between him and such a fate, and 
 the man was by no means strong enough to 
 stand against a mob. Therefore, Jack was 
 convinced that the only possibility of safety 
 lay in flight. And that flight must be made at 
 once, or it would be too late. 
 
 Little by little, the details of a plan were 
 evolved. He went over the matter with every 
 care, knowing well that he risked his life on 
 the accuracy of each detail in his device. 
 Some ideas he rejected; others, after much
 
 testing and readjustment, were approved. In 
 the end, he became confident that his method 
 might win success confident that it would. 
 
 His preparations thus complete up to the 
 point of action, the prisoner did not delay the 
 action itself. For that matter, the opportu 
 nity he desired at the outset was offered to him 
 almost immediately after he had decided upon 
 his course. 
 
 The sheriff, who was a kindly soul, apart 
 from the sternness compelled by his ideas of 
 high office, repeated a favor he had already 
 shown the prisoner, by coming to the grating, 
 and thrusting forward a cigar. 
 
 "Smoke up, young feller," he said. 
 
 Jack took the cigar with due expressions 
 of gratitude, and he was at pains to conceal 
 the new hopeful eagerness that filled him. 
 
 "And here s the match, young feller," the 
 sheriff continued, as he held it forth. It was 
 one of the regulations formulated by himself 
 that the inmates of the jail should not be al 
 lowed possession of matches. 
 
 Of that regulation, Jack was already aware,
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 219 
 
 and to secure its evasion, he now acted. As 
 the sheriff turned away, in pursuance of his 
 principle of not encouraging familiarity on 
 the part of a prisoner, Jack tossed the match 
 to the floor, where it lay invisible in the light 
 which shone in from the other room. Then 
 he addressed the sheriff, with becoming hu 
 mility. 
 
 "I m sorry, Sheriff, but the match went out." 
 Dan McGrew, in the sheriff s place, would 
 have demanded the return of that match. In 
 stead, the official turned back promptly, and 
 gave another, with which the prisoner suc 
 ceeded in lighting his cigar. The sheriff, 
 seated at his table, could not see the captive, 
 who stooped and picked up from the floor the 
 first match, and put it away in his pocket with 
 extraordinary care. 
 
 Thereafter, still careful to escape observa 
 tion by the sheriff, Jack got out a stub of pen 
 cil which he had been allowed to retain. He 
 secured a small fragment of paper from the 
 untidy litter on the floor of the cell. Then, 
 he hastily scribbled a brief note. This was
 
 220 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 rolled up into a tiny cylinder with the writing 
 on the inner side. By liberal moistening with 
 his tongue he managed to make the roll retain 
 its shape. Having accomplished all he could 
 for the time being, the prisoner, with the cylin 
 der in his pocket, awaited the coming of Nell. 
 
 The wife s advent was not long delayed. 
 Within the hour, the girl appeared before the 
 sheriff, softly appealing in voice, more softly 
 appealing in the gaze of her misty eyes. The 
 official strove to frown, but only succeeded in 
 smirking shamefacedly. 
 
 "I suppose it can t do any harm to let you 
 chin a little," he said grudgingly. "But re 
 member now," he added, shaking a warning 
 finger at the visitor, "no whispering, an keep 
 your hands in plain sight all the time. An 
 I ll have my eyes on you, you bet!" 
 
 With a murmur of thanks, Nell went for 
 ward to the grating, where she stood with her 
 hands duly exposed against the metal bars. 
 Husband and wife exchanged greetings as 
 best they could, thus forced to speak aloud so 
 that the sheriff could hear every word. Yet,
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 221 
 
 without anything said to warrant it, Nell knew 
 instantly that her husband s mood had 
 changed. There was a light in his eyes, a 
 smile on his lips. And, too, he nodded almost 
 imperceptibly, very mysteriously. Nell felt 
 her own spirits rise in response. They spoke 
 of sending to Malamute for a lawyer. They 
 spoke of securing proof against the actual 
 murderer at which the sheriff smiled. 
 
 But the sheriff, though he listened so in 
 tently, did not watch with equal closeness. 
 He glanced over some of the papers lying be 
 fore him. 
 
 It was Jack who watched carefully, for 
 much was now at stake. As he saw the sher 
 iff s gaze averted, he parted his lips, and with 
 his tongue pushed forward the tiny cylinder 
 of paper, which on the instant of Nell s ar 
 rival, he had placed in his mouth. 
 
 The wife perceived the protruding roll in 
 astonishment. Jack moved his head forward, 
 puckering his lips as for a kiss. Nell under 
 stood. She turned instinctively. The sher 
 iff s eyes were still on his papers. At once,
 
 then, the girl put her own lips to the opening 
 in the grating, where Jack s waited. The 
 mouths of the two met in a kiss that lingered. 
 The sheriff looked up, and saw the kiss. He 
 noted that the hands of the two were duly ex 
 posed, as required by the regulation in such 
 case made and provided. 
 
 Nell took her departure forthwith. Her 
 murmur of thanks to the sheriff for his kind 
 ness was a trifle indistinct. That excellent of 
 ficer observed the fact. Also, he was inclined 
 to believe that the unfortunate young woman 
 appeared somewhat cheered by her visit to the 
 murderer though what there could be cheer 
 ing in such a situation, the sheriff could not 
 guess.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 IN the solitude of her bleak chamber, Nell 
 hastened to take from her mouth the cyl 
 inder of paper that Jack had given her. 
 Moist as it was, when unrolled it lay flat, and 
 the writing on the inner side was decipherable 
 without difficulty. 
 
 The note lacked address or signature, since 
 neither was needed. But the curt words rilled 
 Nell with rapture: 
 
 Have found way to escape. Go to Max 
 well, ask him for help. Have him some 
 where near the village on his side by eleven 
 o clock to-night. 
 
 With the reading, Nell took new heart of 
 hope. She could not guess the means that 
 her husband had devised for his escape from 
 the jail, but the confident tone in which he 
 
 had written to her gave promise of success. 
 
 223
 
 224 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 Her own part in the plan was simple enough. 
 It only required that she act promptly in its 
 execution. It occurred to her that Mr. Max 
 well might be absent from the cabin, follow 
 ing the line of his traps. The thought of pos 
 sible delay in the performance of her mission 
 struck a chill to the eager wife s heart. At 
 once, then, she was in a fever of impatience 
 to be off and away. 
 
 Nell made her preparations swiftly. At 
 her order, the dogs were harnessed to the sled, 
 and were ready at the door of the hotel, as she 
 issued forth. The news that the murderer s 
 bride was about to start out, spread through 
 the village like wild-fire. The sheriff himself 
 appeared on the scene, as Nell was at the point 
 of departure. He shook his head dolefully; 
 but, to the girl s immense relief, he did not 
 offer to detain her. 
 
 "I dunno," he remarked doubtfully, "what 
 you git by goin , an I dunno neither what 
 you d git by stayin , fer the matter o that. 
 
 "AnyKow, a wife can t testify agin her bus-
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 225 
 
 band, so I hain t got any call to hang on to 
 ye." 
 
 That was his valedictory. 
 
 Nell wasted neither words nor smiles on the 
 assembly. She had no kindly feeling toward 
 these men, who had dared accuse her husband 
 of crime. Her sole response to the sheriff s 
 statement was a crack of the whip and a lively 
 cry to the dogs, which leaped forward with 
 a speed and surety of movement in the splen 
 didly muscled bodies that made the watchers 
 exclaim admiringly. 
 
 There was now no leisurely progress, such 
 as had been that with which she and her hus 
 band had traversed the miles together, before 
 death brought tragedy to their bridal-journey. 
 Nell, in two years of her living in the North, 
 had learned the management of these animals, 
 on which transportation over the snowy ex 
 panses of the Arctic so depends. She knew 
 well how to get from her team every ounce of 
 speed, and she did not spare them in the least. 
 The crust still held, so that the going was of
 
 the best. Mechanically, with the instinct that 
 develops quickly in those who live among the 
 wilds, Nell had noted each salient detail of the 
 route followed by her and Jack. So, now, she 
 was sure of her course, and drove the dogs at 
 full speed on and on, following the levels of 
 interwoven valleys with never a hint of hesi 
 tation. 
 
 It was late afternoon when, at last, Nell 
 found herself passing along the valley where 
 they had lingered behind the line of the stam 
 pede. Hope mounted higher here; for only 
 a few miles still separated her from the man 
 whose aid she sought 
 
 In turn, despair smote her at thought of the 
 possibility that this Mr. Maxwell might be 
 absent might even not return that night. 
 She had a dreadful vision of Jack, escaped 
 from his prison, yet helpless, without dogs or 
 supplies, doomed to perish in the cold. She 
 resolved that, should other help be wanting, 
 she herself would return alone to meet him. 
 She took a little encouragement from this de 
 termination, until it occurred to her that there
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 227 
 
 were limits to the endurance of the dogs. 
 Then, again, desolation fell on her. But, at 
 least, they would be together! . . . Thus, her 
 thoughts rioted in the stress of anxiety. 
 
 Anxiety became an anguished suspense, 
 when, finally, she saw the tiny bulk of the 
 cabin, showing darkly against the white of the 
 valley-slope. As the dogs raced nearer, she 
 stared with fierce eagerness to catch some sign 
 of life. She was in terror when she made sure 
 that no smoke issued from the chimney. One 
 does not sit at home fireless in the Far North. 
 A great fear was on. her as she halted the dogs 
 before the cabin-door, and none came forth 
 to greet her. 
 
 Nell s misery, like that of most persons in 
 this world of mistaken ideas, was of her own 
 making. Hardly had she clambered down 
 stiffly from the sled, when the cabin-door 
 swung open, and Jim Maxwell stepped out. 
 At sight of his visitor, whom he recognized in 
 the first glance, he uttered an ejaculation of 
 astonishment, and advanced toward her 
 quickly. His thought on seeing her alone
 
 228 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 thus before his cabin was that some serious ac 
 cident must have befallen her husband. He 
 was deeply concerned over the girl s plight, 
 and sympathy showed in his face with a sin 
 cerity of feeling that touched the girl deeply 
 so deeply, indeed, that for a few seconds 
 after he was come to her, she could only stand 
 wordless, with her hands in his firm clasp, her 
 eyes glowing with the gratitude and the relief 
 with which his presence inspired her. 
 
 Jim Maxwell s voice was softer than it had 
 been in more than a decade of years. 
 
 "Why, child, what s the matter?" he asked 
 soothingly. "Whatever it is, we ll make it 
 come out all right. Tell me about it." 
 
 Nell choked down her emotion, and pres 
 ently regained a fair degree of self-control. 
 
 "Oh, I m so glad so glad you re here, Mr. 
 Maxwell!" Her voice throbbed with feel- 
 ing. It stirred to a new life a joy long dead 
 in the man s bosom joy in the realization that 
 some one wanted him. It had been twelve 
 years since any one had wanted him. 
 
 "Tell me," he repeated. His tone was even
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 229 
 
 gentler than before. The warmth of it 
 cheered the girl like a draft of rich wine. 
 
 Nell fumbled at her bosom for a moment, 
 and drew forth the note that Jack had written. 
 She held it out, and Jim Maxwell took it from 
 her, and read it through with growing aston 
 ishment. 
 
 After he had scanned it for a second time, 
 he looked up at the expectant girl, with a puz 
 zled, though no less kindly, glance. 
 
 "But what does it all mean?" he asked. "I 
 suppose the note is from your husband?" 
 
 "Yes," assented Nell hurriedly. "He s go 
 ing to escape." 
 
 Jim patted the girl s hand reassuringly. 
 
 "Now, just take it easy," he counseled. 
 "You must remember that I don t know a 
 thing about it. So, you re going to tell me 
 everything that s happened, and what your 
 husband is going to escape from." 
 
 The calmness of the speaker s voice quieted 
 Nell s excitement, and she proceeded to relate 
 without confusion an outline of what had oc 
 curred.
 
 2 3 o THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 "Poor little girl!" her listener said tenderly, 
 when the narrative was concluded. "Well, 
 he did right to send word to me. I owe you 
 two more than I can pay. And don t you 
 worry, my dear. This cloud will pass 
 quickly. The sunshine will be all the brighter 
 after the shadow." His manner changed, and 
 he spoke briskly. "Now, you get into the 
 cabin. I d only just got back from my line 
 and kindled the fire when you came. The 
 stove, I guess, is about white-hot by now. I ll 
 attend to the dogs." 
 
 Nell went obediently, full of happy reli 
 ance on the strength of this man, who was at 
 once so courteous and so kind. She smiled 
 over her distress of a few minutes before. 
 Now, a thick column of smoke rose into the 
 still air from the cabin-chimney. 
 
 Inside the tiny room, Nell glanced about 
 her with a curious sense of contentment. 
 There was something homelike in the aspect 
 of the place, despite its bareness. It was 
 plainly, even roughly, furnished with a few 
 tables and chairs besides the stove and bunk.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 231 
 
 The only decorations were the skins that hung 
 on the log-walls. An oil-lamp was on a small 
 table in a corner. On the large table in the 
 opposite corner were some tins of meat, a 
 saucepan, a few pieces of heavy crockery, and 
 the like. Nell could not interpret the strange 
 effect wrought upon her by these surround 
 ings. She had felt it, in some measure, on the 
 occasion of her first visit to the cabin. Now, 
 however, its force seemed vastly stronger. 
 She puzzled over it in vain. She tried to 
 think it w r as the sense of relief that so affected 
 her. But she knew that this was not the ex 
 planation. She had that inexplicable feeling 
 of being at home. There was no visible 
 cause. Whatever the reason, it lay beneath 
 the surface of things. It was something in 
 the atmosphere, some psychic quality. 
 
 It seemed to Nell that the impression made 
 upon her by this room in the cabin was inten 
 sified by the entrance of the dweller there, 
 who greeted her with his friendly, gentle 
 smile. Indeed, the kindliness of that smile 
 and the look in the grave eyes touched the girl
 
 232 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 anew to thankfulness that this man would de 
 vote himself to her service in the time of need. 
 She thought to herself that Mr. Maxwell must 
 always have been a very kindly man to all, 
 because he smiled so easily, notwithstanding 
 the sadness of his face in repose. She could 
 not know that, through two-thirds of the years 
 measuring her span of life, Jim Maxwell had 
 not smiled at all. 
 
 "First," Jim commanded, "throw off the 
 outside things, and make yourself at home. 
 You re going to stay awhile." 
 
 Nell would have protested. But the man 
 raised a monitory hand. 
 
 "It s no use your arguing about it," he said; 
 and Nell recognized the masterful note in his 
 voice, though he spoke as gently as before. 
 She was rebellious, but she listened patiently 
 while he went on to explain. 
 
 "You see, my dear, this is men s work. 
 There might be a hitch somewhere. There 
 might even be a bit of a mix-up. You d only 
 be in the way then, young lady. We may 
 have our hands full, without you on them.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 233 
 
 Probably everything will be all right. Any 
 how, we ll do our best, and to do it we mustn t 
 be hampered by the presence of a non-com 
 batant. We ll come straight here as fast as 
 my dogs can bring vis. That will give you a 
 chance to rest up. You ll just have to wait 
 here till we come. I don t say that that isn t 
 the hardest part of the whole job. But that s 
 woman s work waiting." 
 
 Jim had spoken thus frankly and at length, 
 in the hope of avoiding useless discussion of 
 a matter concerning which discussion could 
 avail nothing, and he succeeded; for Nell 
 yielded at once, very meekly. 
 
 "You re right, of course," she said, unhap 
 pily. "And you re right, too, about my hav 
 ing the hardest part in just sitting here with 
 my hands folded, while I don t know what is 
 happening to Jack." 
 
 "Better unfold them," Jim suggested with 
 a chuckle, "and rustle yourself some grub." 
 He waved his hand toward the larger table. 
 "The larder is quite at your service. As for 
 me, I ll get ready and start at once. That ll
 
 234 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 get me to the edge of Kalmak soon after dark, 
 so that I ll be all ready and waiting just like 
 you! for whatever s to happen." 
 
 "Yes," Nell said, and again there was the 
 emphasis of anxiety in her voice, "you must 
 start at once. You must be there, ready for 
 Jack when he comes." 
 
 Yet, in spite of this decision on the part of 
 both that the man should start immediately, 
 it was ordained by the Fates that there should 
 be some delay; for this was an hour fraught 
 with momentous things for the two thus cast 
 together in the solitary cabin on the mountain 
 side. 
 
 It was as Jim Maxwell began his prepara 
 tions for the journey that he chanced or that 
 he was guided to stand close to the girl, fac 
 ing her. His eyes were caught by a golden 
 gleam, which seemed pulsing, as it moved in 
 the rhythm of her breathing. His gaze rested 
 there idly at first. And then, a moment later, 
 his attention was drawn to a more careful 
 scrutiny just why, he did not know. Per 
 haps, as some maintain, a secret, tenuous vi-
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 235 
 
 bration emanated from the metal, and moved 
 to response a sleeping memory of old associa 
 tions in the man s soul. Whatever the cause, 
 Jim Maxwell s eyes were seized and held fast 
 by the locket lying on Nell s breast. 
 
 Of a sudden, he started violently. He 
 thrust his head forward, with a movement so 
 abrupt, almost threatening in its seeming, that 
 the girl, in her turn, was startled, and with 
 drew a step, half-fearful. 
 
 "I want to see that locket you are wearing." 
 Jim Maxwell spoke in a tone that Nell had 
 not heard before. It rang with a note of 
 command not to be denied. She gazed af 
 frighted at the change in his face. The kind 
 liness was fled from it. It was imperious, 
 ruthless, with a trace of underlying savagery. 
 The young wife was dazed by the metamor 
 phosis in the man on whom depended now her 
 husband s rescue. And she was afraid, as well 
 no longer with a doubtful fear, but with a 
 real terror before the expression in that 
 heavily lined face, out of which the eyes stared 
 at her with a cruel insistence.
 
 2 3 6 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 "I want to see that locket you are wearing," 
 he repeated harshly, and held out his right 
 hand with the palm upward to receive it. 
 
 Without a word, Nell took off the chain 
 from her neck, and dropped it with the locket 
 into the waiting palm. Then, she moved a 
 little aside, shrinking from the new being with 
 whom she found herself. But, after a few sec 
 onds, she forgot her own emotion, her alarm, 
 her anxiety in behalf of her husband. For 
 she was looking on the soul of a man, bared in 
 agony. So great and so terrible was that rev 
 elation that, very quickly, she turned her 
 gaze aside that she might not see. 
 
 Jim Maxwell remained with his eyes fixed 
 on the little locket, which bore for an orna 
 ment an initial N traced in tiny pearls. He 
 could not doubt. It was the locket that he 
 had caused to be made for his daughter, for 
 Nell his little girl! Presently, he would 
 open it, to see if the pictures of Lou and of 
 himself were still within. But, in this first 
 burst of emotion, he could only stand moveless 
 there, racked by all the torments of memory.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 237 
 
 It was the tearing open of wounds, which, 
 though they had never healed, had ceased to 
 bleed. Now, they bled afresh, and it seemed 
 to him that his soul was drowning in the blood. 
 
 The fierceness of his first emotion passed. 
 Suddenly, it was as if a cloud lifted from his 
 brain, and he became aware of himself stand 
 ing there in the cabin. A moment before 
 or was it ages? he had been in heaven and 
 in hell. Now, he was back in the cabin in the 
 wilderness. And he was glad to be there, for 
 it was home. . . . 
 
 Again, his attention was caught by the gleam 
 of the gold within his hands. He recognized 
 the locket. But, at last, he was able to accept 
 its presence with some degree of calm. 
 
 Jim Maxwell turned to the girl, and ad 
 dressed her gently enough, but still with that 
 dominant tone which would brook no denial. 
 
 "Where did you get this locket?" 
 
 "I have had it always," she answered. 
 None could doubt her truth as she spoke, with 
 the clear eyes meeting her questioner s stern 
 gaze squarely.
 
 238 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 The severity of the man s expression yielded 
 a little. 
 
 "Who gave it to you?" 
 
 "I do not know." 
 
 Jim frowned at this check. 
 
 "But you must know," he insisted. 
 
 Nell shook her head resolutely. 
 
 "I do not remember who gave it to me," she 
 repeated. "But I don t remember anything 
 about myself when I was a very little girl. 
 I ve had the locket always, just as far back as 
 I can remember." 
 
 "How far back can you remember?" It 
 was a perfunctory question. 
 
 "Papa and Mamma Ross, who saved me 
 from the river, guessed that I was five or six 
 years old. They decided on calling it six." 
 
 "And you had the locket then?" 
 
 Nell nodded assent again. 
 
 "And how old are you now?" 
 
 "I m just eighteen." 
 
 As his brain took in the figures, and made a 
 mechanical calculation, Jim Maxwell s form, 
 which had relaxed a little, grew tense again.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 239 
 
 His eyes searched the girl s face with a strange 
 hunger in the intensity of the gaze. Twelve 
 years! Twelve years ago, this girl here be 
 fore him, who knew nothing as to her life 
 prior to that time, had been saved from a river. 
 And she had worn the locket that he had 
 caused to be fashioned for his daughter, Nell. 
 And twelve years ago his wife and his daugh 
 ter, Nell, had vanished. The incredible 
 crowded in his thoughts. Could mother and 
 child, by an evil stroke of fate, have been 
 caught somewhere in treacherous waters? 
 Could one have perished, and the other have 
 escaped? Could this girl, who stood there 
 wondering at him could she be that child, 
 his little Nell, grown to this splendid woman 
 hood? The thoughts electrified him. Was 
 it possible that there was still left for him in 
 life this supreme consolation a creature 
 whom he might love with all his heart, who 
 would love him in return? 
 
 But Jim Maxwell dared not believe. He 
 was afraid of hope, lest it become despair to 
 destroy him. Yet, the chief influences that
 
 2 4 o THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 wrought upon him were his own desire that 
 this miracle might be truth, and the new and 
 singular yearning of his heart toward Nell. 
 
 Presently, Jim Maxwell approached the 
 girl where she was standing a little aloof. 
 He reached out and put his hand on her arm. 
 The girl started at his touch, but, for some 
 reason she could not understand, she did not 
 shrink from him now. He spoke very softly; 
 and in his voice there was a music that pene 
 trated to the girl s soul. 
 
 "You are my daughter my little Nell! 
 . . . God has given you back to me." 
 
 The girl did not doubt. As with the man, 
 her own yearning bore witness. She offered 
 no resistance, but yielded with a reverent joy 
 to the caress, as her father turned her about 
 until she faced him, then stooped and kissed 
 her on the forehead.
 
 A SPLENDID FIGURE OF A MAX, POSED I -V UNCONSCIOUS 
 MAJESTY.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 IN the tedious hours of waiting after part 
 ing from Nell, Jack Reeves was infinitely 
 cheered by the consciousness that he would 
 have for an ally in this crisis one such as Jim 
 Maxwell. Often, there came into the pris 
 oner s thought a memory of how he had last 
 seen the trapper. He had turned for a look 
 back as the sled dropped to the level of the 
 valley. The solitary dweller in that wild 
 place had been standing erect and motionless 
 before the cabin a splendid figure of a man, 
 posed in unconscious majesty. 
 
 There was, of course, the risk that Jim 
 Maxwell might be away from the cabin and 
 so not available to render assistance. That 
 risk, however, could not be avoided, since 
 there was no one else to whom appeal might 
 be made. But Jack was able to hold an opti 
 mistic frame of mind. Somehow the effect 
 
 241
 
 242 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 made upon him by the stranger whom he and 
 Nell had rescued from death was such that 
 he felt a certain confidence as to the outcome 
 of his plan, merely because it depended vitally 
 on the cooperation of Jim Maxwell. Jack 
 was sure that he could have secured this as 
 sistance, even had there been no sense of obli 
 gation to bind the stranger to his service. 
 With Jim Maxwell s obvious and profound 
 gratitude for having been rescued from death, 
 there could be no doubt concerning his re 
 sponse to the prisoner s call for help. 
 
 Though he was busy with thoughts con 
 cerning his projected flight, Jack found the 
 day dragging endlessly. It seemed an eter 
 nity before at last the shadows lengthened into 
 night. Then, indeed, when patience was least 
 needed, it became most difficult. Now that 
 the time was so near at hand, the minutes 
 crawled with a sluggishness that was exasper 
 ating. It seemed to Jack that the sheriff pur 
 posed to sit in the adjoining room throughout 
 the night. It was only when he looked at his 
 watch that the fretting captive learned how
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 243 
 
 anxiety deceived him, for it yet lacked a half- 
 hour of the official s usual retiring time. 
 
 Finally, since all things have an end, the 
 sheriff stood up, and, after an amiable but 
 formal good-night, went out into the living- 
 quarters of the house. Followed an hour that 
 was still more laggard than any of those that 
 had preceded it in this most laggard day. 
 Jack had decided that there could be no need 
 of waiting until late at night before making 
 his attempt. There were only two classes 
 among the citizens of the town. One went to 
 bed early; the other went very late if at all. 
 The prisoner hoped that the first class would 
 sleep too soundly to have any knowledge of 
 his undertaking until too late to thwart it; 
 that the second class would be too drunk for 
 serious interference. 
 
 When he deemed it time to begin his prep 
 arations for escape, Jack gathered the most in 
 flammable parts of the litter on the floor. 
 There was more than sufficient for his pur 
 pose, since the sheriff, however great his other 
 official virtues, was by no manner of means a
 
 244 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 tidy person. This collection of fragments of 
 paper and wood was stacked against the par 
 tition that separated the cell from the outer 
 room, midway on one side of the door. The 
 prisoner was at pains to use only paper and 
 splinters, which would burn with little smoke. 
 He had chosen the only possible point of at 
 tack for his purpose. The other three walls 
 of the cell were of heavy timbers, which could 
 have been set on fire only with difficulty, and, 
 once well alight, would have assuredly roasted 
 to death any one in the place, since there could 
 have been no possibility of breaking through 
 them. 
 
 The situation was different as to the wall 
 in which the door was set. This was made of 
 boards, instead of logs. They were too heavy 
 to be broken through by blows from the heavy 
 chair, which was the only tool available to the 
 prisoner. Jack had conceived the possibility 
 of setting fire to some of the lower boards, 
 and thus weakening them to a point where 
 they would yield to his attack. So, now,
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 245 
 
 when he had placed his kindling in position, 
 he made ready with the match. 
 
 Never was a match struck more carefully. 
 It was the only one, and on its aid at the outset 
 the whole attempt of escape rested. Jack 
 breathed a prayer of thanksgiving as the 
 match sputtered and flared to a steady flame. 
 Next moment paper and sticks were burning 
 briskly. The fire mounted, lapping gently at 
 the boards of the wall. 
 
 Jack, kneeling closely, watched earnestly. 
 There was nothing more for him to do now; 
 he had only to wait for his servant, the fire, 
 to prepare the way. He shuddered a little 
 at the thought that the servant might become 
 the master that in the end he might perish 
 miserably in a fire-trap of his own devising. 
 
 He stood up, and, by an effort of will, thrust 
 the thought from him, lest fear drain him of 
 the energy needed for the flight to come. He 
 forced himself to think of anything else, 
 rather than of a failure so horrible of Nell, 
 who would be waiting for him in a mood of
 
 246 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 hope and despair intermingled; of Jim Max 
 well, who would be ready in this time of need. 
 He pictured the trapper with his dogs, wait 
 ing patiently on the snow where the spruce 
 shadows fell. 
 
 The flame rose higher and higher. The 
 dry boards in the partition were smoking. 
 Little lines of sparks ran over the rough sur 
 face, then died. The smoke from the boards 
 grew heavier. The acrid odor filled the cell. 
 Jack coughed and dropped again to his knees, 
 in order to avoid the worst of the fumes. The 
 heat increased, but it was not sufficient to 
 cause any particular discomfort. Jack had 
 vastly more fear that the increasing volume of 
 smoke might overcome him before he should 
 have opportunity for carrying out his project. 
 Presently, however, he was greatly heartened 
 by observing that there was draft which 
 carried the greater part of the smoke out of 
 the cell through the grating in the door. As 
 he looked, he saw that the other room was 
 filled already with dense clouds of smoke. 
 He took further comfort from the fact that
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 247 
 
 the fumes were not apparently escaping into 
 the main body of the house, where they might 
 have given the alarm. 
 
 In the cell, the lower boards of the parti 
 tion had burst into flame. The heat from 
 them was now so great that Jack crawled 
 away from it into the farthest corner. The 
 tiny room was like an oven, and to add to the 
 discomfort of it and the deadly danger, the 
 smoke thickened visibly, notwithstanding the 
 current passing out through the door. 
 
 Jack realized, with a thrill of horror, that 
 here was a duel a duel to the death. It was 
 a duel between him and those fiercely darting 
 flames. Rather, it was a duel between him 
 and those blazing boards in the partition a 
 duel of endurance between him and them. 
 Which would be the first to yield? If the 
 boards should hold out the longer, then he ! 
 Jack shuddered once again, with a wry smile 
 over the irony of fate. Here, in this rigorous 
 climate, men went often hand-in-hand with a 
 Death whose scythe was edged with ice. 
 Jack had contemplated the possibility of be-
 
 248 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 ing some time struck down by the numbing 
 cold. It had never occurred to him that in 
 this Arctic land he might die in a hell of his 
 own stoking. 
 
 The stifling prisoner dared hope that at last 
 the blaze had weakened the boards sufficiently 
 for his purpose. Whether or no, his suffer 
 ing drove him to action. The heat was intol 
 erable now. Sweat poured from him. The 
 pungent smoke blinded him, and bit cruelly 
 at throat and lungs. Still without rising to 
 his feet, Jack laid hold of the chair, which was 
 just beside him, and hobbled clumsily toward 
 the partition, pushing the chair before him. 
 
 Even this comparatively slight exertion 
 caused the perspiration to gush in new abun 
 dance, and here, closer to the flame, the tem 
 perature was well-nigh unbearable. Jack s 
 head swam. He felt his senses failing. It 
 was only by a tremendous effort that he re 
 gained control of himself. He was aware of 
 his mortal peril. Any least weakening or fal 
 tering now would mean his destruction. It 
 was, indeed, a duel to the death a duel of
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 249 
 
 endurance between him and a foe that knew 
 no mercy. 
 
 Jack realized, as well, that there could be 
 no delay in the issue. He must act at once, 
 if he were to act at all. A minute later would 
 be forever too late. His brain was reeling. 
 His agonized flesh could not longer withstand 
 the strain. He felt his energies flow out of 
 him like water. . . . What he would do must 
 be done instantly or not at all. 
 
 Jack drew a long breath, sprang up, swung 
 the chair, and brought it crashing against the 
 boards of the partition where the flames 
 burned most furiously. The wall did not 
 break, though it seemed to yield a little under 
 the blow. But, before he could try another 
 assault, dizziness sent him staggering away 
 from the unbearable heat and smoke of that 
 spot. He dropped to the floor, where he lay 
 stretched at full length, panting in choking 
 breaths. For a few seconds he was in the 
 grip of despair. He felt himself impotent, 
 doomed to shameful death in this furnace- 
 hole.
 
 250 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 Nevertheless, the spirit of the young man, 
 albeit fainting, was not dead. It aroused 
 presently. And it quickened the flesh. Once 
 again Jack acted. His brain was dulled. 
 He was hardly conscious of thought. The 
 whole strength of his being was concentrated 
 in his will to make a last, supreme effort. 
 Again, after a deep breath, he leaped to his 
 feet, seized the chair and hurled it against the 
 center of the flaming mass with every atom of 
 his strength. 
 
 In the interval since his first attempt, the 
 fire that threatened him with death had, not 
 withstanding, been working in his behalf, 
 weakening still more the boards, his enemies 
 in this duel of endurance. The heavy chair 
 burst through the blazing barrier and fell 
 noisily in the other room. 
 
 Joy surged in the prisoner. Under the 
 stimulus of it, he forgot pain and feebleness. 
 He rushed at the flaming wall and kicked 
 clear a larger opening. Then he plunged 
 through the flames. 
 
 Jack fell headlong on the floor of the sher-
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 251 
 
 iff s office. (By instinct, he remained pros 
 trate, with his face against the floor, else he 
 must have strangled. But instinct urged him 
 onward. He crept toward the window, 
 which, fortunately, was on the side of the 
 room where he had fallen. His eyes were 
 shut fast now, for the smoke had blinded him. 
 But his groping hand, upraised, found the 
 window-sash. Once more Jack held his 
 scant breath as he got to his feet. He drove 
 his elbows through the panes. The zero air 
 enwrapped him. The touch of it was bliss. 
 It brought blessed life to the seared lungs. 
 Jack took one great breath of it. Then he put 
 a foot to the window-ledge, drew himself up 
 and went through, amid the noise of rending 
 glass and wood. Without an instant of pause, 
 or a single glance backward, he was off, plow 
 ing his way through the heaped-up snow, 
 which bordered the clear space beyond the 
 buildings. In another minute he was on the 
 solid crust. Thus he ran on in a line parallel 
 with the one street of the village, but behind 
 the buildings that straggled there. He passed
 
 252 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 the last of these, and saw before him the white 
 reaches of the valley, without sign of life any 
 where, beckoning him on to freedom. His 
 stride quickened and he went forward jubi 
 lantly. 
 
 A hail came to Jack s ears. He looked in 
 the direction of the sound and saw, a little to 
 the right of the trail, a ghostly silhouette, even 
 as he had pictured it the trapper, with his 
 dogs, waiting patiently on the snow where the 
 spruce shadows fell.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 NELL, standing before the cabin-door, 
 peered for the hundredth time that 
 night across the valley. Her eyes seemed to 
 catch in the far distance a hint of movement, 
 a flickering shadow out there in the dim light 
 of snow beneath starlight. It was gone in 
 the same instant. It must have been a trick 
 ery of vision. No! there it was again a 
 shadow that moved, a tiniest speck, but real. 
 Nell s hands went to her bosom convulsively. 
 It could be none other than Mr. Maxwell 
 her father coming there. Did he come 
 alone? She stood with straining eyes in a 
 torment of doubt. Soon she was able to make 
 out that only one figure ran with the moving 
 sled. It was as if the heart died in her. 
 Then, in the next moment, she thought that 
 she could distinguish vaguely the outlines of 
 
 another form on the sled. She was a-tremble 
 
 253
 
 254 
 
 with hope. The sled rushed toward her up 
 the slope, the wearied dogs mending their 
 pace in the frantic delight of home-coming. 
 It was certainty now. Nell could see the man 
 on the sled. He waved a hand to her. A cry 
 of rapture burst from her lips. Within the 
 minute, she was clasped to her husband s 
 breast all sorrows forgot. 
 
 Presently, when the first excitement of the 
 reunion was over, and the three were together 
 in the cheery warmth of the cabin, Jack told 
 his story very briefly, whereat Nell paled and 
 trembled as she realized how near to death 
 this night had been the man she loved. But, 
 when the fugitive finished the story with his 
 arrival at the point where Jim Maxwell 
 waited, Nell suddenly rose and went to the 
 older man and threw herself on his breast 
 and kissed him. 
 
 "Father, if it hadn t been for you !" 
 
 Jack regarded the scene in amazement, not 
 
 untinged by disapproval. Gratitude was all 
 
 very well, but it need not express itself too 
 
 extravagantly. Then he almost forgot the
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 255 
 
 embrace in wonder over the word "father!" 
 
 "Eh?" he questioned confusedly. "You ve 
 adopted him? That is, he s adopted you?" 
 
 "Oh!" Nell exclaimed, drawing away from 
 her father to regard him with consternation. 
 "Didn t you tell him?" 
 
 Jim Maxwell smiled very tenderly. 
 
 "No, I didn t tell him. I thought maybe 
 you d like to do that yourself, dear." 
 
 Nell kissed her father again, with such en 
 thusiasm that Jack s disapproval returned 
 with increased bitterness. 
 
 "You re a darling, Father," she declared 
 happily. In the reaction from her suffering, 
 she was bubbling over with girlish gayety. 
 "I d just love to tell him. It will be such fun 
 to see his eyes pop out." 
 
 It was fun and something deeper and 
 sweeter. Jack, for his part, welcomed the 
 fact of this new relationship with the man 
 so curiously and intimately brought into his 
 life. He rejoiced for his own sake, and he 
 rejoiced more for Nell s; since now she need 
 no longer mourn over being a nameless waif,
 
 256 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 though the mystery of her life was only partly 
 explained. 
 
 The hands of the two met in a warm clasp, 
 and their eyes met no less warmly in a firm, 
 honest gaze of mutual liking and respect. 
 
 "I reckon I ve done a pretty good day s 
 work," Jim said, with a whimsical smile to 
 mask his emotion. "I ve got a daughter and 
 a son, too both in one day. And I didn t 
 have anybody before not for twelve years." 
 There was a pathetic intensity in his voice, 
 which touched the two hearers to a new ap 
 preciation of this man s great loneliness. 
 Then Jim Maxwell shrugged his shoulders, as 
 if he would cast off the mood of emotion. He 
 spoke rapidly now, with incisive directness. 
 
 "You must get across the Border as fast as 
 you can. I ll tell you some short cuts." He 
 had driven his dogs often to Malamute, and 
 knew the ways by which the fugitives might 
 gain advantage over their pursuers. "YouVe 
 had an hour here, and it would be risky to wait 
 any longer before starting out. They may be 
 after you any minute."
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGKEW 257 
 
 "TKey may think I ve been burned up in 
 the fire," Jack suggested. 
 
 Jim shook his head in dissent. 
 
 "No. Those logs would take a good bit of 
 burning. Somebody would give the alarm, 
 and they d tumble out to see the fire, and 
 they d see that window you d smashed 
 through." 
 
 "And I had to wade through some loose 
 snow," Jack added. "They d find my tracks 
 fast enough." 
 
 "Tracks leading this way! I tell you, 
 there s no time to be lost. You know the 
 trails to Malamute. Make it as quick as 
 you can. From there, strike across the Bor 
 der." 
 
 He was interrupted by Nell, who exclaimed 
 impulsively: 
 
 "But, Father, what about you? I can t 
 bear the thought of leaving you now, when 
 I ve just found you after all these years." 
 
 Jim Maxwell smiled down on his daughter 
 with deep fondness. 
 
 "When you re in Canada, write to me here
 
 258 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 to Kalmak, telling me where you will be, 
 and I ll join you very soon." 
 
 He turned to Jack and gave explicit direc 
 tions as to how the route to Malamute might 
 be shortened profitably. When he was sure 
 that the young man had understood, he turned 
 again to Nell. 
 
 "I m not quite so poor as I look, little girl," 
 he said, smiling. "When I join you I ll have 
 a wedding-present ready for you for you, 
 and for the boy here." His glance went af 
 fectionately to Jack, who returned it with like 
 affection. 
 
 Preparations for the departure of the two 
 were speedily made. The farewells were ut 
 tered; father and daughter kissed tenderly; 
 the men shook hands heartily. Then the 
 dogs, in fine fettle after ample food and rest, 
 leaped forward with joyous energy. The 
 night was clear enough to see the way dis 
 tinctly; there was no danger of mistaking the 
 trail. On and on they flew over the frozen 
 surface of the snow, following the valleys that 
 trended to the east. Warmly clad and habitu-
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 259 
 
 ated to icy airs, the two did not suffer any 
 discomfort from the bitter cold of the wind 
 created by their rapid motion through the 
 night. On the contrary, it set their blood 
 tingling with the joy of life. Both were glo 
 riously happy. The starlight was as noon-day 
 since they had come out of the valley of the 
 shadow. 
 
 Thus they went forward swiftly, Nell 
 stretched at ease, Jack riding and running by 
 turns. In the twilight of dawn, they came on 
 a native family comfortably encamped, and 
 here they halted for an hour, that the dogs 
 might be fed and rested, and that they, too, 
 might eat and rest. They basked contentedly 
 in the cheery heat from the flames, and at last 
 took leave of their stolid hosts almost reluc 
 tantly. Then, once again, they went skim 
 ming over the waste, as the pale-yellow sun 
 crept languidly above the horizon. The 
 slanting beams set all the scene a-shimmer 
 with prismatic radiance from the snow crys 
 tals. Hitherto, the two had been content with 
 silence, happy in the knowledge that they
 
 260 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 were together and that the speeding miles put 
 peril far behind. Now, however, with the 
 quickening life of day, the placid mood came 
 to an end. They became lively, garrulous, 
 demonstrative. Nell insisted that Jack 
 should rehearse for her anew every detail of 
 his escape from the jail. The husband, in 
 turn, demanded a full account of how father 
 and daughter had become known to each 
 other. Both were curious to know the story 
 of Jim Maxwell s life. They could not for 
 bear many speculations as to the nature of the 
 events that had driven this man, whom Jack 
 liked and esteemed, and whom Nell had al 
 ready grown to love, to isolate himself thus in 
 the desolate North. But they could only 
 guess, since the father had told nothing of 
 himself, except the single fact of his relation 
 ship to Nell. 
 
 They made Malamute in mid-afternoon. 
 Jack halted the dogs in front of the chief 
 structure in the place, which, though nomi 
 nally only a saloon, was in fact the hotel and 
 trading post.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 261 
 
 "Don t get out, Nell," Jack directed. "I ll 
 have to get directions here for the next stage 
 in the journey. Maybe we ll have to stay for 
 the night, and maybe we won t. I ll be back 
 in a minute." With that he hurried off and 
 entered the saloon. 
 
 As the door swung open to admit the new 
 comer, the few men straggling along the bar, 
 or lounging at the tables, looked up in mild 
 curiosity to see who this might be. Only one 
 showed any especial interest in the stranger. 
 This single exception was a man who sat by 
 a table placed against the wall at right angles 
 to the bar. He had been lazily busy over a 
 game of solitaire, while the woman seated 
 across the table from him looked on listlessly. 
 At Jack s entrance, he had looked up with 
 languid attention. On the instant, he was 
 transformed. All the indifference of his ex 
 pression vanished. His face showed first an 
 unbounded amazement, then rage. Finally, 
 another emotion hardly fear, but a furtive 
 anxiety closely akin to fear. He watched 
 covertly as the escaped prisoner went up to the
 
 262 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 bar, where, after ordering a drink, he began 
 questioning the bartender concerning the 
 most direct route to the Border. 
 
 Having secured the information he re 
 quired, Jack went back to Nell, who sat wait 
 ing on the sled, snug within her furs. 
 
 "We d better stay here for the night," he 
 explained, "and make an early start in the 
 morning." 
 
 Nell got down from the sled obediently and 
 accompanied her husband into the saloon, 
 where arrangements for their entertainment 
 were speedily concluded. It was only after 
 the two had gone upstairs to the room assigned 
 them that the man, who had held his head bent 
 low over the spread-out cards of the solitaire 
 game during their presence, looked up and 
 beckoned to a tall, rough-featured individual 
 standing alone at one end of the bar. This 
 was the sheriff of Malamute. As he came 
 near, Dan McGrew spoke, and his voice 
 rasped. 
 
 "Did you recognize that chap with the 
 girl?"
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 263. 
 
 "Never laid eyes on him before," the offi 
 cial averred. What about it?" 
 
 "When I was down at Kalmak the other 
 day," Dangerous Dan answered impressively, 
 "they arrested that fellow for murder. He s 
 broken jail." 
 
 The sheriff grinned contentedly. 
 
 "Then right here s where he breaks in 
 again. I ll see to that. You re sure there s 
 no mistake?" 
 
 "No mistake!" was the terse assurance. 
 "I ll swear to his identity if necessary. But 
 probably there ll be somebody after him 
 pretty soon, as they d figure he d take this way 
 for the Border." 
 
 "I thought you were going in the morn 
 ing," the sheriff objected. "I ll have to 
 have you for a witness, if nobody else turns 
 up." 
 
 "Oh, I ll stay, all right!" Dan laughed. 
 
 And the Fates must have laughed with him, 
 and at him, in mockery; for, in this last ma 
 lignant act, Dangerous Dan McGrew worked 
 evil against himself and none other. . . . Lou,
 
 264 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 looking on apathetically, wondered why Dan 
 should be so eager to deliver over a fugitive 
 from justice. He was not usually so intoler 
 ant of crime!
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 JIM MAXWELL, left alone in his cabin, 
 had company a-plenty in thronging 
 thoughts. His mood, on the whole, was 
 nearer to one of happiness than any he had 
 known before in the years since the wrecking 
 of his home. The discovery of his daughter 
 had filled him with pure delight. Had she 
 been other than she was, this recovery of her 
 would still have filled him with gladness. To 
 find her so lovely and so winsome in her per 
 sonality moved him to proud exaltation. He 
 looked forward to companionship with her in 
 the years to come, and thanked Providence 
 for this assuagement of past loneliness and 
 sorrow. He was grateful, too, for the fact 
 that she had entrusted her life s happiness to 
 one who seemed worthy, so far as any man 
 
 might be, of such a treasure. Since he had 
 
 265
 
 266 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 no son of his own, Jim Maxwell rejoiced over 
 this gift of his daughter s bringing to him. 
 
 Nevertheless, it was in this connection that 
 the otherwise happy father found ground for 
 anxiety, and that anxiety pressed upon him 
 heavily. His understanding of the circum 
 stances, which was wider than that of the 
 young persons involved, made him appreciate 
 the evil consequence that must ensue from the 
 present situation. Either Jack would escape 
 across the Border, or he would not. In the 
 latter contingency, there would be immediate 
 peril of his life on being brought back to Kal- 
 mak; for Jim had been told, what Nell had 
 not, of the probable lynching by men impa 
 tient of the law s delay. But, with the fugi 
 tive s escape safely accomplished, there would 
 remain always a stigma on the young man s 
 reputation. Throughout his life, he would 
 go in constant danger of being pointed out as 
 a jail-breaker and murderer. Jim Maxwell 
 would not tolerate such a fate for one near 
 and dear to him, and dearest to his daughter. 
 He made a last round of his traps, bringing
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 267 
 
 them in and storing them in the cabin pre 
 paratory to his departure. And in his prog 
 ress over the miles, his thoughts were grap 
 pling always with the problems by which he 
 was confronted. It was not until nightfall, 
 as he sat smoking cozily in the warm comfort 
 of the cabin, which had been blest by his 
 daughter s presence, that he at last reached a 
 decision. He had little fear of a lynching in 
 case of Jack s recapture; for he meant to take 
 a hand himself in coming events, and h e be 
 lieved that the sheriff at Kalmak, though he 
 knew the official to be of a spineless sort, 
 would make a stand against the mob with his 
 backing. So he dismissed any immediate 
 concern over the retaking of the escaped pris 
 oner. There remained, however, the matter 
 of the stigma. He would not let his son-in- 
 law, Nell s husband, whom she loved, be thus 
 branded by the world. There was only one 
 means of prevention. The young man s inno 
 cence must be proved. With the evidence 
 against him such as it was, that innocence 
 could be established in a single way, and in
 
 268 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 none other by proving the identity of Sam 
 Ward s actual slayer. Since this was so, Jim 
 Maxwell decided that he himself must bend 
 every energy to tracing out the truth concern 
 ing the crime of which Jack Reeves stood 
 accused. Before he slept that night, he re 
 solved that with the dawn he would start for 
 Kalmak, there to begin his work. 
 
 In the morning, then, Jim Maxwell set 
 forth on his quest. On arrival at Kalmak, he 
 halted his dogs before the Grand Hotel, 
 where he judged, from a slight acquaintance 
 with the sheriff, that he would find the official 
 in the bar-room. In this he was proven 
 right; for, on entering the saloon, the first 
 person his gaze encountered was the sheriff 
 himself, who stood at the end of the bar facing 
 the door, with an expression of profound 
 melancholy upon his horse-like face. Jim, 
 with only a nod to the others, went straight to 
 the sheriff, whom he greeted with an assump 
 tion of deference, since he was well aware of 
 the fellow s pet vanity. 
 
 "And what s new?" he asked innocently,
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 269 
 
 after he had given an order to the bar-tender. 
 
 The sheriff could hardly pause to drain his 
 glass, so eager was he to pour out his woes 
 to one who had not yet heard them. There 
 was nothing in the narrative that increased the 
 stock of information already possessed by the 
 questioner. It was not until Jim Maxwell 
 had pursued a cross-examination for some time 
 that there came a revelation of importance. 
 This, when it did come, crashed on him like 
 a thunderbolt. 
 
 "Have there been any other strangers in 
 the place lately?" he demanded, desirous of 
 any clew to the possible murderer. 
 
 "Nary one," the sheriff responded dismally. 
 "It s been dull as ditch-water all winter here 
 abouts. Hain t anybody come in for a month 
 leastways, only Dan McGrew, and he ain t 
 a stranger exactly not by a long shot!" 
 
 Dan McGrew ! The name screamed in Jim 
 Maxwell s brain. Dan McGrew, here 
 within reach of his two hands! 
 
 He stood motionless, unhearing, unseeing. 
 Beneath the concealing beard, his cheeks were
 
 2 7 o THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 bloodless. His thoughts were chaos. The 
 despair of the years seemed crystallized in this 
 new anguish over the fact that the enemy had 
 been here, almost within his grasp, and he 
 had not known. He seemed to realize as 
 never before the monstrousness of the crime 
 committed against him. Hate more savage 
 than he had known hitherto filled his heart 
 with its black flood. It seemed the final 
 crushing blow of fate, that the wrecker of his 
 home should have come so nearly within his 
 power and then have escaped unscathed. 
 For, somehow, he sensed details given by the 
 sheriff concerning Dan McGrew s going from 
 Kalmak, though he heard not a word of the 
 babbling voice. 
 
 Presently, Jim Maxwell aroused from this 
 trance of rage. He found himself weak and 
 shaken, and his tone was husky as he ordered 
 more drinks for himself and for the gratified 
 sheriff. He gulped the raw liquor hurriedly, 
 and welcomed the sting of it. He regained 
 his usual stern composure soon, and, immedi 
 ately then, his thoughts took a new turn. He
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 271 
 
 resumed the prosecution of his inquiries with 
 increased eagerness. It may have been that 
 the association of ideas drove him on. Dan 
 McGrew was to him the epitome of crime. 
 The presence of Dan McGrew in the neigh 
 borhood struck him as of possible significance. 
 He was without a shred of evidence, in the 
 matter of Sam Ward s death, against the man 
 he hated. Yet, he felt a strange conviction 
 that here was the clew for which he had 
 been searching. . . . The sheriff was highly 
 pleased by the manifest interest of this trap 
 per, who, in their previous meetings, had 
 shown no trace of geniality. 
 
 "You say this Dan McGrew Jim stum 
 bled a little over the name "was here when 
 this Reeves chap came in?" 
 
 "Blew in that very self-same day, jest a little 
 while before the murderer got here." 
 
 "I suppose he hadn t heard of the murder 
 until he got here?" Jim suggested. 
 
 The sheriff shook his head. 
 
 "We didn t any of us know a thing about 
 Sam Ward having been killed, until the young
 
 272 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 feller drove up and told that cussed yarn about 
 seein the murder through his glasses. The 
 nerve of him! And he d got away with it, 
 too, if it hadn t been for Dan McGrew puttin 
 it into my head to search his pack." 
 
 The listener started perceptibly at this in 
 formation. 
 
 "Oh, it was Dan McGrew who first directed 
 suspicion against this young man, was it?" 
 
 The sheriff was deeply chagrined by his in 
 advertent revelation of the truth. He at 
 tempted to hedge. 
 
 "Why, not exactly. Maybe he was the first 
 to speak right out plain, but I d been thinkin 
 jest that same thing." 
 
 Jim did not care to press the point. He 
 had no wish to wound the sheriff s sensibili 
 ties, at least while further information might 
 be extracted from the man. But he regarded 
 this news concerning the part Dan McGrew 
 had played in the affair as of vital importance. 
 While the sheriff maundered on, he rapidly 
 reviewed the details of the case, so far as he 
 knew them.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 273 
 
 The murderer, according to Jack s account, 
 must have seen the approach of the bridal 
 pair. The fact was, indeed, proven by his 
 hasty flight from the scene of the crime. 
 Thereafter, he might have watched, and prob 
 ably had watched, the arrival of the sled, and 
 he doubtless had been aware that the new 
 comers camped on fhe creek for the night. 
 Already, in previous study of the questions in 
 volved, Jim had arrived at these conclusions, 
 which established a plausible explanation for 
 the presence of the knife-handle in Jack s 
 pack. Certainly, it could have been no diffi 
 cult feat for the assassin to secrete this evi 
 dence during the night encampment. As cer 
 tainly, there could have been no other oppor 
 tunity. Nor could there be any doubt as to 
 the motive for the action. It had been for the 
 purpose of fixing guilt upon the innocent, that 
 the guilty might go free. 
 
 Now r , in addition to these conclusions al 
 ready established, there appeared another and 
 salient fact. 
 
 The person who first suggested the search-
 
 274 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 ing of the pack wherein the knife-handle 
 lay concealed had been Dan McGrew. The 
 inference was undeniable. It was made 
 stronger still by the correlated fact that Dan 
 McGrew had arrived at Kalmak only shortly 
 before the coming of the alleged murderer. 
 By further questioning, Jim drew from the 
 loquacious sheriff additional data. Danger 
 ous Dan had arrived on foot. He had talked 
 of having been in the stampede; but he had 
 given no precise account of his movements, 
 nor had he explained the reason for his com 
 ing to Kalmak, over which the sheriff had 
 .puzzled. The day following his arrival, he 
 had set out for Malamute with a hired outfit. 
 A rapid survey of all these circumstances 
 brought Jim Maxwell to the conviction that 
 Dangerous Dan McGrew had added murder 
 to his other crimes. The evidence was by no 
 means conclusive, but it was sufficient to any 
 one reasoning from the facts. Jim, sure of 
 Jack s innocence, regarded the guilt of Dan 
 McGrew as actually established. There re 
 mained the necessity of final proof, which
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 275 
 
 would brand the murderer as such before the 
 world and clear the innocent from unjust sus 
 picion. 
 
 It was reasonable to suppose that the slayer 
 of Sam Ward had taken to himself, in pay 
 ment for his crime, anything of value on the 
 dead man s body. Thus there was a possibil 
 ity, even a probability, that Dangerous Dan 
 McGrew now carried with him some tangible 
 evidence that would serve to convict him. 
 This evidence must be secured. In no other 
 way could the innocence of Jack Reeves be 
 proclaimed to the world. And Dangerous 
 Dan had gone to Malamute. Jim smiled 
 slowly, staring fixedly, as if his gaze reached 
 out across the miles. The sheriff, though 
 hardly a coward, shrank a little from some 
 strange quality in that look. 
 
 Jim Maxwell, in truth, was wondering as 
 to his exact purpose in going to Malamute. 
 Was it to save Jack Reeves, or was it to kill 
 Dangerous Dan McGrew? Both, perhaps. 
 
 He put a last question to the sheriff, who 
 was puzzled by it not the less so by reason
 
 276 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 of a certain hesitation in the questioner s voice 
 as he spoke. 
 
 "There wasn t any any woman with this 
 Dan McGrew?" 
 
 "Nope ! He s been here three or four times 
 for a game with the boys. He s square, Dan 
 is. An I hain t never seen him look at nary 
 one of the gals." 
 
 Jim Maxwell turned away abruptly from 
 the sheriff, without a word in parting. The 
 careless words screeched in his brain, mocking 
 devils of derision: 
 
 "Pie s square, Dan is." 
 
 Jim Maxwell set his face homeward, and 
 urged the dogs to their best speed, for he had 
 much to do and time pressed. He reached 
 the cabin with the first shadows of dusk, and, 
 after attending to the dogs, busied himself in 
 collecting important papers, which must be 
 carried with him, since he could hazard no 
 guess as to when he might return to the cabin, 
 if ever. His skins were to be left behind, 
 though their total value was a considerable 
 sum. He had put out his line of traps for
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 277 
 
 the solace afforded by occupation, rather than 
 for profit from the pelts. He would leave 
 them with no regret over the loss involved. 
 He cared little for money at any time now, 
 not at all. The only consideration was that 
 he must travel fast and light. 
 
 With the dawn Jim Maxwell was off. At 
 the last, he experienced a pang of regret over 
 leaving this humble dwelling, where, though 
 he had companioned so long with misery, he 
 had, nevertheless, found soothing from the 
 serenity and the silence, and where, in the end, 
 he had found a daughter and a daughter s 
 love. Cut this regret at parting from the 
 familiar place was, after all, a trivial thing 
 compared with the desire to hasten from it to 
 the accomplishment of the work that awaited. 
 He was obsessed by the purpose to avenge his 
 own wrongs and those of his children, as he 
 had already come to term Nell and Jack in his 
 thoughts. The object of that vengeance was 
 Dan McGrew. In these hours of pursuit 
 after the man who had injured him and his 
 so foully, his mood was all of fierce hatred.
 
 278 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 The tenderness that had stirred and wakened 
 in his heart with the recognition of his daugh 
 ter now slept again. A fury of rage rilled 
 him. This nearness to his enemy inflamed 
 every passionate memory of wrong. Usually 
 considerate of every creature, he was now 
 merciless, and sent the dogs forward at top 
 speed, cursing them when they lagged. 
 
 As the day advanced, heavy gray clouds 
 covered the whole face of the heavens. The 
 light wind which had been blowing from the 
 east, veered to the north soon after mid-day, 
 and quickened. It quickened more and more. 
 Presently it was blowing a gale. And it came 
 icy cold from the floes within the Circle. 
 Jim, under the numbing touch, was compelled 
 to go afoot oftener, in order to make the slug 
 gish blood bestir itself. Yet his action was 
 almost automatic, the result of habit formed 
 in like experiences. He was hardly conscious 
 of the changed conditions. Though his flesh 
 felt the ice-lash of the air and fought against 
 it, the brain inhibited sensation. His thought 
 was all of the task that awaited. The chill
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 279 
 
 of the body was nothing to him. He knew 
 only the hot wrath that throbbed in his blood. 
 He gave no heed, even when the powdery 
 snow came in almost level flight. It was 
 solely the slackening pace of the dogs that had 
 power to arouse him. Sorely reluctant, he 
 gave them a breathing spell, and fed them. 
 He desired no food for himself. He was sus 
 tained by the spirit of vengeance which was 
 flaming within him. He was not afraid of 
 the cold, which grew momently more deadly; 
 nor of the snow, though it fell so thickly that, 
 when the journey was resumed, the dogs at 
 tained hardly half their former speed. The 
 flakes flew in masses so dense that it was diffi 
 cult to tell whether the darkness were of its 
 own making or the night were come. He 
 could still distinguish the peaks by which he 
 set his course, and, since he went to his desti 
 nation, nothing else mattered at all except 
 that the dogs dawdled. He cursed them 
 again. His voice went out to them by turns 
 raucously savage and imploring. 
 The dogs ran floundering through the snow,
 
 280 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 which deepened dangerously fast. Ever aft 
 erward, Jim Maxwell believed that, somehow, 
 the power of righteousness had gone with 
 him, triumphing in his behalf over the ele 
 ments that would have barred his way. It 
 seemed, indeed, that only a miracle could have 
 carried him safely through the cold and storm. 
 He had expected, by unsparing driving of the 
 dogs, to reach Malamute well before dark. 
 He himself now had no sense of time, only as 
 it meant delay in coming face to face with 
 Dan McGrew. As a matter of fact, it was 
 ten o clock at night when his eyes picked out 
 faint yellow gleams twinkling through the 
 snow-wrack, which he knew to be the lighted 
 windows of the Malamute saloon. The dogs 
 understood that they were come to the jour 
 ney s end. They strained at the breast-straps 
 in a last desperate burst of speed, and then, 
 unbidden, halted before the door of the sa 
 loon and dropped on their bellies, panting 
 and slavering. Jim Maxwell with difficulty 
 stirred his cold-stiffened muscles and clam 
 bered down from the sled. He stood dazed
 
 for a full minute, as if not yet fully conscious 
 that he had reached the end of the way, that 
 the hour of vengeance had at last struck. 
 
 Then, suddenly, Jim Maxwell straightened 
 himself and squared his shoulders. He 
 walked to the door of the saloon and opened 
 it with a steady hand and stepped within, 
 shaking the snow from his parka as he went. 
 He halted just inside and stood quietly. At 
 his entrance, silence had fallen on the noisy 
 room and the eyes of all were turned on him.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 FOR a time Jim Maxwell stood there 
 without movement, blinking confusedly, 
 while his body drank in the steaming warmth. 
 The men in the room regarded the newcomer 
 with frank stares of curiosity. He was un 
 known to any of them. They guessed him to 
 be a miner just in from the creeks, dog-tired 
 from his fight with the storm. Without being 
 told, one of the hangers-on of the saloon hur 
 ried out to care for the dogs, since their owner 
 seemed almost helpless. Very soon, in fact, 
 a suspicion grew in the minds of the observers 
 that something more than the cold had af 
 fected this stranger. 
 
 "Full of hooch!" was the verdict. 
 
 Presently, Jim s vision cleared. He cast 
 one piercing glance about the room. He saw 
 Dangerous Dan McGrew sitting at a table 
 along the wall, a little way to his left. He 
 
 282
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 283 
 
 had schooled himself for the sight. There 
 was no betrayal of the emotion that shook his 
 soul at first sight of the man who had robbed 
 him of wife and child and happiness. He 
 even noted with a savage satisfaction some 
 thing constrained in the pose of his enemy, 
 who sat half-turned toward him, a card sus 
 pended in mid-air. Dan McGrew had seen 
 him that was certain. And it was certain, 
 too, that Dan McGrew would not make the 
 opening move. Jim Maxwell was content. 
 His foe hesitated and hesitation is weakness. 
 He had no doubt as to his own strength. He 
 believed it adequate for every demand upon 
 it. 
 
 He vaunted himself too soon. His eyes 
 passed beyond the man he hated to the one 
 who sat on the opposite side of the table. A 
 darkness fell upon his spirit. He gazed 
 steadily enough, for he had no power even to 
 shift the direction of his eyes. There was no 
 outward sign of the convulsion in his soul. 
 He remained looking steadfastly at the woman 
 who had been his wife, at the woman whom he
 
 284 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 had loved and lost. None of the onlookers 
 dreamed that the sight of her meant anything 
 to this stranger. It was natural that he should 
 consider her attentively she was a handsome 
 woman, in a place where women were rare. 
 
 Jim Maxwell s heart died within him. He 
 had tried so often throughout the years to be 
 lieve that the wife, who had been tricked into 
 deserting him, had at least never been be 
 guiled into aught unfitting her womanhood. 
 Now, he saw before him the damning proof 
 that she had given herself to vileness, to Dan 
 gerous Dan McGrew, whom presently he 
 would kill. . . . 
 
 But the sight of her dear face! Notwith 
 standing all the horror, to see her once again 
 in the flesh before his eyes was a rapture ex 
 quisite, yet torturing. Her face was the 
 loved symbol of all his happiness. It was, as 
 well, the symbol of all hideousness, which had 
 swallowed up happiness. As he beheld her 
 thus, ravening emotion devoured his strength. 
 Suddenly he felt his knees sag. His eyelids 
 fell of their own weight, so that sight of her
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 285 
 
 was shut out. The shock of darkness, after 
 the glory of her face, startled him to realiza 
 tion of his surroundings and steadied him. 
 He asserted his will once again. He straight 
 ened and shuffled toward the bar. But he did 
 not open his eyes until he had fairly turned 
 his back on the pair at the table by the wall. 
 Those observing him sniggered and mumbled 
 again of hooch, when he lurched against the 
 bar, and clung to it for support as a drunken 
 man might . . . Jim Maxwell was drunken 
 drunken with grief and hate and love. 
 
 After a little he recovered some measure of 
 composure. He drew from his pocket a 
 buckskin bag, and poured some gold-pieces on 
 the bar. 
 
 "Drinks for the house!" he commanded. 
 
 The bartender busied himself in dispens 
 ing this hospitality to the crowd, which surged 
 forward thirstily at the welcome summons. 
 The Rag-time Kid, a wan-faced youth with 
 a cigarette dangling from his lower lip, who 
 performed noisily on the piano which stood 
 against one wall, left his instrument and came
 
 286 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 forward hastily. Jim saw that drinks were 
 served to Dangerous Dan McGrew and the 
 woman opposite him, as well as the few others 
 that were seated at the tables. He nodded 
 curtly when the company raised their glasses 
 toward him before drinking. His manner, 
 however, was so singular and so remote that 
 none ventured to address him directly. They 
 eyed him askance. They speculated among 
 themselves concerning who the man might be; 
 for now, in some mysterious fashion, they had 
 come to perceive that this was not one of the 
 ordinary miners from the creeks, with the 
 mud of the bottoms still matted in his beard. 
 But they could make no definite surmise to 
 account for him. In some vague way, they 
 felt the portentousness of his presence among 
 them. It was as if he stood enveloped in an 
 atmosphere of tragedy. They looked at him 
 furtively, confused, wondering, half-fearful, 
 at his aspect. They no longer deemed him 
 merely a drunken man. But what he was, 
 they could by no means understand. They 
 drank again, for his money still lay on the bar.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 287 
 
 They raised their glasses toward him. But 
 the mystery of his coming remained unsolved, 
 and it grew more burdensome as minutes 
 passed, pressing heavily upon their spirits. 
 Jim Maxwell drank with the others the first 
 time and the second. He might, perhaps, 
 have drained a third glass, but, while he de 
 layed, his eyes chanced to fall on the piano, 
 for the wan-faced youth with the cigarette 
 dangling from his lower lip, was still enjoying 
 his respite and was making merry at the bar. 
 It had been a long time since Jim had touched 
 the keys, but now, in the travail of his soul, it 
 seemed to him that in music he might find 
 surcease for the warring emotions within his 
 breast. He went toward the piano, striding 
 firmly. When he was come to it, he threw off 
 parka and cap and seated himself and laid his 
 hands noiselessly on the keys in a touch gentle 
 and fond as a caress. 
 
 As the first soft chord sounded, the pallid 
 youth at the bar started as if struck. He 
 wheeled, and thereafter gazed unfalteringly 
 toward the man at the piano.
 
 288 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 It had been long since Jim Maxwell had 
 played. At the outset, his hands moved 
 slowly, almost hesitatingly, for the muscles 
 were still a little numb from the cold of out 
 doors. But they grew elastic quickly, and a 
 great series of clanging harmonies echoed 
 through the squalid room. The others looked 
 now with the wan-faced youth, whose ciga 
 rette had fallen unheeded. There came the 
 dainty scamper of cadenzas, a crashing chord, 
 and silence. The youth, who played himself, 
 though not like this, understood that the 
 stranger had made ready. He waited, tremu 
 lous with eagerness; for he loved his art, 
 although he debased it. He muttered to him 
 self: 
 
 "God! how that man can play!" 
 
 Jim Maxwell s fingers sought the keys 
 again, weaving strange harmonies. And 
 through them ran a thread of melody. The 
 listeners could not understand, though the 
 spell of it held them. Only, they knew some 
 how that the one who played was a man, full 
 of a man s passions the primitive passions of
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 289 
 
 love and hate. There was a harshness in the 
 dissonances that told of bitter sorrows; there 
 was a charm in the thread of melody that was 
 all truth and tenderness. 
 
 Those who heard saw visions, each accord 
 ing to his kind. In this improvisation, Jim 
 interpreted his thronging emotions. The 
 coldness and the desolation of the North were 
 made audible. Through sound itself, he 
 made these dwellers in the lonely places real 
 ize again the silence of solitary wastes. The 
 music cried out in sudden anguished longing, 
 then broke in discords, like shrieks for venge 
 ance. Some of the listeners stirred uneasily, 
 uncomprehendingly, yet thrilled for the soul 
 is more intelligent than the brain. The Rag 
 time Kid shivered. 
 
 Dan McGrew, the cards of his solo-game 
 unheeded on the table before him, watched the 
 man at the piano with steady gaze. His face 
 was expressionless. He had recognized Jim 
 Maxwell at first sight, and he knew that the 
 time of reckoning was at hand. He was dis 
 mayed, for he had come in the course of
 
 2 9 o THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 years to believe that they two would never 
 meet. Now that they were met, he was ready 
 for whatever might befall. But he dared do 
 nothing to precipitate the crisis. He must 
 wait to be accused or attacked. If he could 
 have followed his desire, he would have shot 
 down the man he had wronged would have 
 shot him in the back, remorselessly, in cold 
 blood. That he could not do. The code of 
 the frontier forbids such murder. At such 
 an act, these men about him would show no 
 mercy beyond the short shrift of a rope. He 
 could only await the issue with what patience 
 he might, cursing inaudibly, so poised that he 
 could draw at a second s warning. 
 
 Lou had not recognized Jim Maxwell on 
 his entrance. She had given only a glance at 
 this bearded stranger. She was infinitely 
 weary of life. She hated this vulgar place, 
 reeking with rank tobacco-smoke and the 
 fumes of liquors. She felt, even through an 
 apathy that had become habitual with her, 
 shame from the leering glances of these men, 
 who took her for the gambler s light-o -love.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 291 
 
 She felt herself degraded more and more at 
 her manner of life and by the associations 
 thrust upon her. She knew the evil spirit of 
 the man she had married, which daily and 
 hourly she was compelled to tolerate. The 
 life was become almost unendurable. Yet, 
 she continued the sordid existence, partly be 
 cause she lacked the courage to break away 
 from him, partly because she could condone 
 the wickedness of Dan McGrew to some ex 
 tent in appreciation of his loyalty to her. She 
 could not doubt the reality of his love for her. 
 That his love was utterly selfish, she knew. 
 But he gave her all that he could. The 
 woman s instinct toward martyrdom made her 
 feel it a duty not to desert him. Now, after 
 the coming of the stranger, she felt, rather than 
 saw, the change in Dan McGrew, and she 
 wondered over it dully. Not for a moment 
 did she suspect that her husband s emotion was 
 connected with the advent of the bearded man, 
 toward whom she glanced so idly. . . . Love, 
 often, is not so shrewd as hate. 
 
 Her eyes followed Jim Maxwell as he went
 
 292 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 to the piano. She was still listless, wholly un 
 suspecting that aught impended. Even the 
 first softly sounded notes did not arouse her. 
 It was not until her ears caught the delicate 
 thread of melody that her heart heard it, and 
 answered, and she knew that this was the man 
 she loved. Her hands clutched at her bosom 
 in a spasmodic gesture. She swayed in her 
 chair for a moment, then relaxed limply, and 
 sat huddled in the corner between the table 
 and the wall, her face ghastly beneath the 
 rouge. But, lifeless as she seemed, she was 
 listening through every atom of her being. 
 In the varying phases of the music, she lived 
 again the blisses and the torments. And, too, 
 it was borne in upon her that, as she had suf 
 fered in the years since their parting, even so 
 had he, who thus wove in sound the fabric of 
 their lives. Yet, she could not believe that 
 this man still loved her, though the music that 
 grew under his fingers was like the talking to 
 gether of their souls. A great wonder dawned 
 in her, a greater fear, still greater hope. 
 Could it be that the scales had fallen from his
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 293 
 
 eyes, that he had freed himself from a degrad 
 ing passion, that he had returned to his al 
 legiance, that he loved her her! Her body 
 shook as with a palsy from the riot in her 
 heart. 
 
 Abruptly, the music ceased. Then, in an 
 other instant, there came a series of noble 
 chords, sonorous and serene. Followed the 
 tripping dance of arpeggios, which deftly 
 hinted of a melody to come. The Rag-time 
 Kid quivered in ecstatic anticipation of some 
 thing splendid, nor was he disappointed. 
 
 There sounded a lilting melody, a-throb 
 with the joy of life. The notes rang with the 
 calls of passion; they trembled into the sigh- 
 ings of exquisite tenderness. There was rap 
 ture in the magnificent harmonies that 
 marched with this melody. It was like a 
 song of two hearts glorious in the fulfillment 
 of their love, with all the universe chanting 
 praise of their happiness. It was the lyric of 
 love triumphant. 
 
 The man at the piano raised his arms high, 
 and brought his hands down on the keys in a
 
 294 
 
 great swoop. The flames in the smoking-oil 
 lamps leaped and quivered at the devil s din 
 of the discord. The nerves of those that 
 heard leaped and quivered. The player got 
 up from the stool. His eyes swept the star 
 ing faces, and he smiled a smile like a curse. 
 
 "You don t know who I am, boys," he said. 
 His voice, resonant, yet softly modulated, was 
 very gentle dangerously gentle the listeners 
 might have thought, had they known him well. 
 
 Dan McGrew knew him well. He under 
 stood that the crisis was upon him. He 
 shifted very slightly in his chair, that he might 
 have greater freedom of movement when the 
 need came. He darted a single glance at his 
 wife, and saw her sitting erect again, gazing 
 at the player with dilated eyes in which 
 showed the hunger of a soul. Dan McGrew 
 cursed beneath his breath, and did not look 
 again. Instead, he held his whole attention 
 on the man who had spoken, and who now 
 spoke once more: 
 
 "I haven t anything to say to you, except 
 that" the voice deepened and roughened
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 295 
 
 savagely "one of you is a hound of hell! 
 His name is Dan McGrew!" 
 
 Two shots rang out, which almost blent as 
 one almost, not quite. The crowd scattered 
 and dropped to the floor. The lights went 
 out.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 WORD had been sent to the sheriff of 
 Kalmak of Jack Reeves capture at 
 Malamute, and he at once set forth to bring his 
 prisoner back. He arrived hardly an hour in 
 advance of Jim Maxwell. He took formal 
 possession of the accused, and forthwith made 
 it clear that he was not minded to run any risk 
 of a second escape. 
 
 "That young feller ain t in no way safe in a 
 jail," he explained to his brother official. 
 "There s no tellin what didoes he d be up to 
 he s that ornery. I ll jest take him along 
 with me to the saloon over night, an I ll set 
 up with him, an nuss him like he was a 
 babby." 
 
 Despite all arguments to the contrary, the 
 sheriff had his way, and started to the saloon- 
 hotel, where the distracted bride had already 
 established herself. The officer and his cap- 
 
 296
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 297 
 
 tive were hardly a rod from the door, when 
 the shots rang out, and, almost in the same 
 second, the lights were extinguished. The 
 sheriff uttered an excited exclamation, and 
 hurried forward with his prisoner. They 
 were just within the door, when the bar 
 tender, who had so discreetly shot out the 
 lights, produced new chimneys and leisurely 
 set the oil lamps going again. 
 
 As his eyes fell on the form stretched out 
 upon the floor near the piano, Jack Reeves ut 
 tered a cry of alarm, and sprang forward. 
 Kneeling, he caught Jim Maxwell s hand in 
 his. He could not speak in the first shock of 
 emotion, for he believed that the man was 
 dead, who lay there so still and white, with 
 closed eyes, and the blood trickling from a 
 wound in his head. 
 
 Nell, in an adjoining room, had been 
 shaken with fear at the noise of firing. But, 
 in the stillness that followed, she heard a cry 
 of distress in her husband s voice. She for 
 got fear then, and rushed into the saloon and 
 to his side. The sight of her father there
 
 298 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 struck her dumb and motionless with horror. 
 Thus it came about that she and her husband 
 were passive spectators of the great heart- 
 drama that now developed. 
 
 There was another in the group. It was 
 Lou. Before the shots were fired, she had 
 sprung to her feet, and forward, as if to forbid 
 the deadly work. She had been too late. But 
 she had plunged on, heedless of the weapons, 
 reckless of her own life. The instinct of love 
 had guided her through the sudden blackness. 
 So, when the lights burned again, she was there 
 on her knees, crooning heart-broken words to 
 the ears that did not hear. She had no 
 thought whatsoever of that other form which 
 lay stark, crumpled on the floor by the table 
 she had left. She supported Jim in her arms, 
 with a passion of tenderness and mourning; 
 for she, too, believed him dead, and it seemed 
 to her that all the misery that had gone before 
 were as nothing to this anguish over finding 
 him, only to lose him forever. Then, of a 
 sudden, Lou gave a gasp of pure rapture for 
 Jim Maxwell had opened his eyes, and lay
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 299 
 
 staring placidly at the smoke-begrimed ceil 
 ing. She bent and kissed the bearded face, 
 then raised a countenance that was transfig 
 ured. It was years younger in that illumina 
 tion of joy. 
 
 Nell, watching in startled wonder, recog 
 nized the face in the locket. She knew this 
 woman to be her mother. She could under 
 stand nothing else. But there on the floor at 
 her father s side was the mother whom she had 
 never known. The mystery appalled her. 
 Yet, a tremulous happiness stirred in her heart 
 over this meeting, so unexpected, so inexplic 
 able, so fraught with amazing possibilities. 
 
 Jim Maxwell spoke, very low, so that Lou 
 held her ear close to listen. 
 
 "Get it from the pocket inside my shirt," 
 he commanded. 
 
 "But your wound, Jim dearest," Lou 
 pleaded. "Don t bother about anything else, 
 whatever it is." 
 
 "Get it!" Jim repeated. 
 
 Lou yielded to the authority in his voice, 
 and searched as he had bidden. She drew
 
 3 oo THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 forth a bit of oil-skin, which she opened. In it 
 was a sheet of notepaper, folded twice, and 
 worn through along the creases. 
 
 "Read it," Jim directed her; and Lou read 
 obediently, though slowly through scalding 
 tears : 
 
 "I, Anne Weston, confess to tricking Jim 
 Maxwell and deceiving his wife at the instiga 
 tion of Dan McGrew." 
 
 That first sentence gave her understanding 
 of the lie that had wrecked her life. She read 
 on to the end of Anne Weston s confession, and 
 knew for the first time the entire infamy of 
 the man whose treachery had robbed her of 
 home and husband and child. Hate flared in 
 her. She turned to look behind her, and saw 
 the ungainly heap on the floor, which was all 
 that was left of Dangerous Dan McGrew. 
 And she was glad! . . . She turned again to 
 the man she loved. 
 
 "Forgive me, Jim oh, forgive me, dear 
 est 1" she murmured. 
 
 "I ve nothing to forgive," was the answer. 
 "A scoundrel fooled you that s all. You
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 301 
 
 couldn t help but believe your own eyes. But 
 he s paid at last, I guess. Hasn t he?" 
 
 "He s dead!" Lou replied; and there was no 
 sorrow in her voice. 
 
 "And I m alive!" Jim declared contentedly. 
 "He only creased me." He sat up suddenly 
 by his own strength. For the first time, he 
 appeared to notice his daughter and Jack 
 Reeves. He spoke briskly now, and his voice 
 had its accustomed firmness. 
 
 "Help me up, Jack," he bade his son-in- 
 law. And then, a minute later, when he stood 
 firmly on his feet again, he turned to Lou, and 
 spoke softly. 
 
 "I m going to make you very happy, to 
 make up for what you have suffered. And 
 I ll start by giving you back the daughter you 
 lost twelve years ago." He nodded toward 
 the girl, who approached. 
 
 "Nell," he ordered, "I want you to take this 
 lady to your room, and tell her who you are. 
 Go now, both of you, and have a talk. Jack 
 and I will come soon. We have something to 
 attend to first."
 
 302 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 The women yielded to the masterful air of 
 the man they both loved, and went away to 
 gether to that talk in which there would be 
 many kisses and the mingling of happy tears. 
 
 No sooner were the women gone than Jim 
 Maxwell faced the sheriff of Kalmak, who, 
 throughout the excitement, had kept his at 
 tention unswervingly fixed on the prisoner, 
 with an eye to possible didoes. But before 
 Jim Maxwell could speak, he was interrupted 
 by the local official, who detached himself 
 from the group about the body of Dan 
 McGrew, and now approached. 
 
 "You got him, stranger," he remarked to 
 Jim, in a congratulatory tone. "And he 
 mighty near got you. Pretty shootin by 
 cripes! And I suppose, Mister, you under 
 stand you re my prisoner?" 
 
 "Certainly," was the indifferent answer. 
 "But I sha n t try to get away, and there s some 
 thing I want to have attended to right now. 
 It has to do with my son-in-law, Jack Reeves 
 here, who is accused of a crime he didn t com 
 mit. I want to prove his innocence, and
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 303 
 
 there s a chance I may be able to do it. Dan 
 McGrew killed Sam Ward. I know it. I 
 want everybody else to know it. I m hop 
 ing that somewhere among his things, or on 
 him, there ll be the proof to connect him with 
 the crime." 
 
 The sheriff of Kalmak protested against the 
 possibility, and spoke concerning Jack s pos 
 session of the knife-handle. In answer, Jim 
 made clear the reasoning by which he had 
 come to suspect his enemy of Sam Ward s 
 murder. 
 
 "And, anyhow," he concluded, "you d 
 search this dead man s effects. I m only ask 
 ing that you do it now, and in my presence. 
 He had the opportunity to do the killing, and 
 the circumstances must appear suspicious 
 against him to you, though you didn t know 
 him for the dog he was. It s an idiotic idea 
 that this boy of mine, who was on his honey 
 moon, would stop off to kill a man he didn t 
 know, for a pinch of dust he didn t need." 
 
 The Malamute official nodded assent. 
 
 "You re talkin sense, Mister," he agreed.
 
 3 04 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 "I reckon Hal Owens thinks the same as I do." 
 He regarded the sheriff of Kalmak inquir 
 ingly, who found himself exceedingly con 
 fused over this new turn to an affair already 
 finally determined in his own mind. He 
 vouchsafed a nod of acquiesence, but ventured 
 nothing further. "And that being so," the 
 other went on, "why, we ll just naturally take 
 a squint at the corpse and his goods and chat 
 tels, and get a line, if so be, on what s what." 
 Having thus spoken, he led the way to where 
 the body of Dan McGrew was lying by the 
 table; and with him went Jim Maxwell; and 
 Jack Reeves and his guard followed them. 
 
 The Malamute sheriff, as became his au 
 thority, made the examination of the dead 
 man s clothing. He went through the pockets 
 painstakingly, sorting the articles, and laying 
 each in turn on the table, while Jim Maxwell 
 looked on with a close scrutiny that nothing 
 escaped. But the collection of miscellany 
 grew little by little without showing anything 
 in the least significant. No one of the various 
 objects disclosed could by any ingenuity be
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 305 
 
 claimed as evidence that Dan McGrew had 
 perpetrated the crime of which Jack Reeves 
 stood accused. The hope that had sprung up 
 in the young man s breast at Jim Maxwell s 
 utterance quickly died. But Jim himself did 
 not despair. Sure of his enemy s guilt, he was 
 sure, too, that somehow it would be brought 
 to light. 
 
 The searcher came at last to a pocket inside 
 the waistcoat. In it was a tiny book, bound in 
 paste-board covers. On the outside of the 
 front cover were printed words and written. 
 The sheriff gave a glance at these, and shouted 
 exultantly: 
 
 "We ve got him cuss him!" And then he 
 added, in a tone of disgust: "And to think 
 of him carryin the goods on him like that!" 
 He handed the book to Jim Maxwell, who 
 read in a glance, with Jack looking over his 
 shoulder: 
 
 "The Tacoma Savings Bank, in account 
 with Sam Ward." 
 
 Jack s captor, also, who throughout had 
 kept his hold on the prisoner s arm, read, and
 
 3 o6 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 abruptly took his hand away. His voice re 
 vealed how great was the injury done to his 
 dignity: 
 
 "The damn skunk! An him a-leadin me 
 on! I wish he d come to life for five min 
 utes, an I d show him that Hal Owens ain t 
 to be made a fool of." And the sheriff s flash 
 ing eyes and scowling brows showed that he 
 meant it. 
 
 Without a word, Jim Maxwell turned to his 
 son-in-law, and put out his hand, and the two 
 men shook hands joyously, yet with a certain 
 gravity. 
 
 "This will be glorious news for Nell," Jack 
 said, happily. Then the gladness went out of 
 his face. "Now, we must think about you." 
 He grinned ruefully. "I ll have to be trying 
 to do for you what you ve done for me." 
 
 The sheriff of Malamute regarded the 
 young man jovially. 
 
 "Now, don t you worry a mite not a mite, 
 my lad," he said genially, clapping Jack 
 Reeves on the back. "We ll have a court
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 307 
 
 a-sittin in this blessed saloon in about five min 
 utes, with a judge and a jury all regular. 
 From what the boys have been a tellin me, it 
 seems perfectly clear that the prisoner just 
 naturally shot Dan McGrew in self-defense." 
 He beamed good-naturedly on Jim. "I cal 
 culate, the sooner you re tried, the better you d 
 like it, and have the thing off your mind like." 
 
 His prisoner smiled in return. 
 
 "It can t be too quickly to suit me," he de 
 clared. As a matter of fact, the amiable man 
 ner of the officer, as well as the suggestion it 
 self, afforded Jim Maxwell immense relief. 
 Until within the hour, he had had no concern 
 as to his fate. He had determined to take the 
 law in his own hands in order to rid the world 
 of a scoundrel. He had not troubled to think 
 that his act might involve himself in destruc 
 tion. But a change had been wrought in his 
 attitude. That change had had its origin in 
 the discovery of Lou. Her presence had 
 turned his thoughts at the very outset to new 
 hopes of happiness. He himself had scarcely
 
 3 o8 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 realized this, until, with the approach of the 
 sheriff, he awoke to appreciation of the fact 
 that he stood in peril of his life. He had not 
 been able to guess what the mood of these men 
 might be toward him, a stranger to them, who 
 had come among them to kill one whom they 
 did know. Though he concealed it, he had 
 experienced a considerable trepidation con 
 cerning the outcome. He was gratified ac 
 cordingly now over the sheriff s announce 
 ment, which manifested the kindly disposition 
 of the crowd toward him. . . . He turned to 
 Jack. 
 
 "Go to Nell and her mother," he directed, 
 "and keep them away from here. Tell Nell 
 that your innocence has been proved." As 
 the young man turned away, half in reluctance 
 half in eagerness, Jim addressed the sheriff 
 gravely : 
 
 "And now, sir, I am at your service." 
 
 The trial was of record shortness, but, in its 
 
 way, it was formal, and it had the sanction 
 
 of the law. There were no pleas, only the 
 
 taking of evidence and the rendering of the
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 309 
 
 verdict, on which the jury decided without 
 leaving their places. 
 
 The verdict was justifiable homicide in self- 
 defense.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 JIM thanked the court and the jury for 
 their treatment of him, and shook hands 
 heartily with each man of them. As he 
 turned away, the barkeeper called to him : 
 
 "Hey, Mr. Maxwell! There s money 
 comin to you !" 
 
 Jim went toward the bar, smiling. 
 
 "Use it, and if you need more, I ll pay." 
 
 He turned toward the crowd in the saloon. 
 "You re my guests to-night, boys, and I want 
 you to whoop it up. You re all friends of 
 mine. Perhaps, I ll look in again by-and-by. 
 But I must go now. I was alone when I 
 came here, but, thank God!" his voice grew 
 suddenly husky "I m not alone now." 
 
 In the adjoining room, the others were wait 
 ing for him anxiously. As he entered, Jack 
 sprang to his feet. 
 
 "They ve acquitted you !" he cried. 
 310
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 311 
 
 Jim nodded assent. 
 
 "I ve been acquitted according to the law." 
 His voice was grave, yet with an undernote 
 of jubilation. "My conscience never accused 
 me, I guess. Somehow, it seemed to me that 
 I had to do what I did. And what about you? 
 What s your verdict?" 
 
 Nell threw herself into her father s arms, 
 and clung to him. He held her close, inex 
 pressibly comforted by this contact with his 
 own flesh and blood. 
 
 "As if any one could doubt that you did 
 right!" she exclaimed, scornfully. 
 
 "I ve heard the story," Jack interrupted. 
 His voice was quivering with sympathetic an 
 ger. "Shooting was too good a death for this 
 Dan McGrew." 
 
 "And you?" Jim spoke more softly now, 
 with his eyes fixed on the woman, who had not 
 risen. His voice was very wistful. His eyes 
 were even more wistful, as they searched that 
 dear face, which, though weary and worn, 
 was still so beautiful. 
 
 The great, dark eyes, brilliant as a girl s in
 
 312 
 
 this hour of excitement, met his in frank adora 
 tion. 
 
 "Jim," she said, and the music of her voice 
 seemed sweeter than he had ever heard it be 
 fore, "you were right to kill him, of course. 
 But whatever you do, always, will be right 
 to me just because you do it. I doubted you 
 once, Jim. Never again!" She rose now, 
 and came to him. And, at her coming, a fem 
 inine instinct caused Nell to slip from her 
 father s embrace. Her mother stepped close, 
 and raised her lips. 
 
 "Kiss me, Jim." Her voice was no more 
 than a whisper, but it went echoing through 
 all the chambers of the man s heart. He 
 folded his arms about her with a reverent 
 gentleness, yet strongly, as if he would never 
 let her go. Then, he bent his head, and kissed 
 her on the lips. ... It was the sacrament of 
 a new life in the old love. 
 
 Thereafter, the four talked of many things. 
 Nell was compelled to tell again the story of 
 her escape from the river. The mother was 
 deeply stirred by gratitude to the kindly pair
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 313 
 
 who had rescued and ministered unto her 
 daughter through so many years. She turned 
 to Jim, all eagerness, her eyes aglow, her lips 
 curving in the gracious smile he knew so 
 well. 
 
 "Oh, can t we go to visit them, and thank 
 them? We must!" 
 
 Jim nodded. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "we must, indeed. 
 We owe them more than we can ever repay. 
 We re proud of our daughter, and we bless 
 them for it. Yes, we must tell them so. 
 We ll help them in a material way, but we 
 can never pay them our debt." 
 
 "Nell and I," Jack remarked, after a little 
 interval of silence, "have about decided that 
 we ve had enough excitement for one honey 
 moon. We re ready to hike back. What 
 about you folks going with us?" 
 
 Jim looked at Lou, who returned his glance 
 in kind. The desire of the two was one. 
 They nodded in silent acceptance of the sug 
 gestion. Then, for the first time in those 
 many years, Jim Maxwell laughed gayly.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 
 
 "Your daughter can chaperon you, Lou," 
 he said. 
 
 She blushed like a girl. 
 
 "Oh!" she exclaimed, in embarrassment. 
 "I had forgotten!" 
 
 All four, for the first time, were thinking 
 of the complications that had arisen in this 
 most curious situation; but a certain shyness 
 held them silent. It was not until the younger 
 pair had said good-night, and had gone to their 
 room, that Lou at last spoke openly of the 
 thing that was most in her thoughts. It was 
 now that Jim learned of the divorce granted 
 to his wife, of her marriage to Dangerous Dan 
 McGrew. The news stunned him with its 
 unexpectedness. But, too, it afforded him a 
 mighty relief. There remained, however, 
 the astounding fact that Lou was not his wife. 
 
 "Why," he ejaculated, "we ll have to be 
 married over again." 
 
 "Yes," Lou assented, in some confusion. 
 "It s not proper, of course, but She broke 
 off, regarding Jim with puzzled eyes. 
 
 "There s nothing conventional about this af-
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 315 
 
 fair," was the man s brisk comment. "For 
 that matter, this is not a land of conventions, 
 of the sort they set such store by down below. 
 They go here by the right and wrong of things 
 in themselves. That way is a good deal sim 
 pler, and, in most cases, it s a good deal better, 
 I guess. By right, Lou, you re my wife. I ll 
 make you so legally the first minute possi 
 ble. It s right I should. Conventions don t 
 
 go." 
 
 "I m glad, Jim," Lou answered happily. 
 
 "There s the minister that married Nell and 
 Jack. He ll be there where we re going to 
 visit Papa and Mamma Ross. Nell says he s 
 a fine old chap. It would be nice to be 
 married by the minister that married Nell. 
 What do you think?" 
 
 "Oh, splendid!" Lou agreed, with enthu 
 siasm. She smiled and dimpled. "Why, 
 Jim, I saw him. He has such a good face! 
 Jim, you don t know! I saw Nell married 
 my own daughter, and I never knew it!" She 
 told the story. 
 
 "In the morning, we ll hit a good pace on
 
 316 THE SHOOTING OE DAN McGREW 
 
 the trail," Jim said, decisively, "and get to that 
 parson as fast as ever we can." 
 u Yes," Lou said again. 
 
 The morrow broke fair and warmer after 
 the storm. The four were off early, with the 
 whole town turned out to do them honor at 
 their parting. Afterward, the cheering popu 
 lace would attend the obsequies of Dan 
 McGrew. 
 
 The going was slow; whereat Jim Maxwell 
 fretted hugely. But there was no other flaw 
 in his perfect happiness, or in that of the 
 woman who sat with her face turned so that 
 she might look up often into the bearded one 
 of the man as he ran behind the sled. Both 
 were content. Already, yesterday was re 
 mote, with all its loneliness and grief. This 
 was a new day, in a new life, the beginning of 
 a happiness that would abide. The sorrows 
 they had known had cleansed and strengthened 
 them, and made them ready for a finer joy in 
 their love. They spoke little together, for 
 there was small need of words between them.
 
 THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW 317 
 
 Neither needed to tell the other of the tor 
 ment endured during the years of separation. 
 Neither wished to remember the evil that was 
 gone. Why should they mourn when the cup 
 of gladness was brimming at their lips? The 
 past was dead. The scars from the old 
 wounds would remain always. But they 
 were hidden, and the wounds were healed by 
 love s magic, and would ache no more. They 
 set their faces to the future, where life shone 
 radiant. 
 
 On the crest of the hill, Jim halted the dogs 
 for a brief rest. He pointed out over the 
 broad-sweeping whiteness of the valley toward 
 the southern horizon. 
 
 "Down there, Lou," he said, and his voice 
 rang with a tender joyousness, "down there our 
 home is waiting for us." 
 
 And the woman echoed very softly: 
 
 "Our home." 
 
 THE END
 
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