“The dangerous Mr. O'Rourke. Tell him from me he'd better go back to the borax works at Keeler, where he got his nickname, an' take up his old job o' skinnin' mules. Tell him I'll loan him that roan pony in the corral, an' he can saddle up an' git. Tell him to send the little horse back with the stage-driver. I want him to ride out tonight, Dan. Tell him it's an order.” Pennycook nodded. “If I was you, though, Harley, I'd heel myself.” The gambler opened a bureau drawer and brought forth McGraw's automatic pistol. He smiled brightly. “No use givin' orders unless a feller can back 'em up, Dan” he said. “Thanks for the hint, though. Of course you'll tell Borax privately. No use arousin' his pride lettin' the whole town know he had to go. He's a rat, but a rat'll fight when he's cornered--an' I don't want to kill him.” “I will” replied Mr. Pennycook. “I'd hate to see any more trouble in this town.” “Thank you, Dan.” “Donna all right?” “Yes.” “Who's the feller that interfered?” “Stranger ridin' through.” “Hard hit?” “Right lung. He'll pull through.” “Hope so” responded the amiable yardmaster, and left. Mr. Hennage got back into bed and pulled the sheet over him again. But it was too hot to sleep, so he lay there, rubbing his chin and thinking. Late in the afternoon he heard the sound of a horse loping through the street beneath his window. He sprang up and looked out, just in time to see Borax O'Rourke riding out of town on Bob McGraw's roan bronco. Mr. Hennage permitted himself a quiet little smile. “Now there goes the star witness for the prosecution” he mused. “But I'll stay an' tell 'em Borax was mistaken. I guess, even if I ain't a gentleman, I can lie like one.” He bathed and dressed and started over to the post-office--not because he expected any mail, for he did not. No one ever wrote to Mr. Hennage. But he had seen Mrs. Pennycook dodging into the post-office, and it was his intention to have a quiet little conversation with the lady. When he arrived at the post-office, however, Mrs. Pennycook was not in sight. Mr. Hennage stepped lightly inside, and at that moment he heard Miss Molly Pickett, the postmistress, exclaim: “Well, for the land's sake!” “It's a fact, Miss Pickett. She kissed him!” The voices came from the inner office, behind the tier of lock boxes. Realizing that he was in a public place, Mr. Hennage did not feel it incumbent upon him to announce his presence by coughing or shuffling his feet. He remained discreetly silent, therefore, and Mrs. Pennycook's voice resumed: “She had him taken right down to the Hat Ranch, of all places. Of course it wouldn't do to bring him up town, where he could be looked after. Of course not! He might be sent to a hospital and she wouldn't have a chance to look after him herself. I never heard of such carryings-on, Miss Pickett. It's so scandalous like.” Miss Pickett sighed. “Who is he?” she demanded.