Instantly, Langford sprang forward, but Black had made good use of his moment of grace. Swinging his arms to the right and left, he had beaten his way to the window, when Langford again seized him, but he had the advantage this time and he tore himself loose, throwing Langford violently against the window-casing. With his bare, clinched fist, he shivered the glass and leaped out—into the arms of Jim Munson. The officers made gallant plunges through the stampeded crowd in their efforts to get clear of the room to follow the fugitive. But certain men managed to keep themselves clumsily, but with marvellous adroitness nevertheless, between the deputies and the doors and windows; so that several moments elapsed before the outside was finally gained. Meanwhile, Jim struggled heroically with the outlaw. Black was far superior to him in weight and strength of limb, but Jim was quick and tough and daring. Expelled from the court room, he had been watching through the window. He had seen Mary’s quick action and his Boss’s splendid attack. He had also seen the little “gun play” and his eyes glowed in admiration of “Williston’s little girl,” though his generous heart ached for love of the woman who was not for him. He saw Black coming. He was ready for him. He grappled with him at once. If the Boss or the officers would only come now! When they did come, they found Jim stretched at length on the frozen ground. He sat up slowly. “You’re too late, boys,” he said; “the hoss thief was too much for me. He’s gone.” It was true. The little street stretched before them still—deserted. Early twilight was coming on. The biting cold struck them broadside. The deputies scattered in vain pursuit. CHAPTER XXI THE MOVING SHADOW “I’d rather not talk about it to-night. I’m not equal to it. It’s—too—too it’s devilish, Paul. I don’t seem to be able to grasp it. I can’t think about it with any coherence. I was so sure—so sure.” Gordon was staring moodily out of the window, one arm hanging idly over the back of his chair. He had taken up office room in an empty shop building across the street from the hotel. “It’s so devilish, it’s weird,” agreed the ranchman. “But your part was great. You vanquished Jesse Black. That is more than we hoped for a week ago. Is it your fault or mine that those fool deputies acted like flies in tangle-foot and went spraddle-fingered when something was expected of them? We have nothing to do with a little thing like a broken windowpane.” There was an ugly cut on his forehead caused by his violent contact with the sharp edge of the window casing. He was pale, but he had lost none of the old faith in himself or in his power to dominate affairs in the cattle country. Defeat was intolerable to him. He refused to bow his head to it. To-day’s check only made him the more determined, if that were possible, to free the land of its shame.