There was an overturned box just below the window and slouched down upon it was a withered, baldheaded man whose frayed whiskers and untrimmed hair made him look a deal like an inebriated monkey. There was nothing humorous looking in this specimen of fallen humanity to the mind of the parson. He could only pity his case. But it must be confessed the other person engaged in the colloquy gained Hunt’s interest and held it at once. She was small, lissome, of a vigorous figure and vastly more attractive to his eye than any girl he had ever looked at. Indeed, he was amazed to see such a really beautiful creature in such squalid surroundings. “Get up and come home with me,” said the girl again. “What will Mother Tubbs say when she sees you?” “Heh? I reckon I better stay yere,” was the reply. “Man can’t keep his—hic!—dignity when a great walrus of a woman throws him ’round like he was a sack of spuds. I tell you, gal, I made a great mistake in marryin’ that woman.” “It was a great mistake for her—that’s a fact,” was the sharp rejoinder. “You got so many failings I don’t see how Mother Tubbs remembers ’em all when she prays for you. Ugh! You men! There ain’t a one of you I’d give a hoot in a rain-water barrel for. Get up!” The girl again tried to drag him to his feet. Sam Tubbs merely fell over sideways and sprawled helpless upon the ground. Hunt, without his coat or vest, but grabbing up the flap-brimmed hat he had secured from the gunman the evening before, opened his door, ran down the back stairway of the hotel, and made his way quickly into the lane. As he appeared before Nell Blossom, standing over the now slumbering drunkard, he looked anything but the cleric. “Can I be of help?” he asked. “You can’t help me none, mister,” replied Nell brusquely. “I scarcely think you need help,” said Hunt, smiling. “But this unfortunate——” “‘Unfortunate’ is right!” repeated the girl. “Sam Tubbs is so unfortunate that it would be money right now in his pocket if he’d never been born. If I leave him here some of those cheap hangers-on of the Grub Stake or Colorado’s place will roll him for all he has in his jeans. And Mother Tubbs needs what he’s got left of his pay—believe me!” “Where does he live?” “Where I do. Down the lane a ways.” “I think we can get him there,” said Hunt, and without further ado he stooped, got a grip on Sam Tubbs, and proceeded to throw him over his shoulder like a sack of meal. The girl’s eyes grew round. For the first time she expressed some appreciation—perhaps a little admiration—for his friendliness. “You wasn’t behind the door when they were passing out muscle,” she remarked. “Well, come on. I’ll show you the way.”