Bridge's mental vision was concentrated upon the veranda of a white-walled ranchhouse to the east. He shook his head angrily. “It's just as well,” he thought. “She's not for me.” Something moved upon the ground beyond the window. Bridge became suddenly intent upon the thing. He saw it rise and resolve itself into the figure of a man, and then, in a low whisper, came a familiar voice: “There ain't no roses in my hair, but there's a barker in my shirt, an' another at me side. Here's one of 'em. They got kisses beat a city block. How's the door o' this thing fastened?” The speaker was quite close to the window now, his face but a few inches from Bridge's. “Billy!” ejaculated the condemned man. “Surest thing you know; but about the door?” “Just a heavy bar on the outside,” replied Bridge. “Easy,” commented Billy, relieved. “Get ready to beat it when I open the door. I got a pony south o' town that'll have to carry double for a little way tonight.” “God bless you, Billy!” whispered Bridge, fervently. “Lay low a few minutes,” said Billy, and moved away toward the rear of the guardhouse. A few minutes later there broke upon the night air the dismal hoot of an owl. At intervals of a few seconds it was repeated twice. The sentry before the guardhouse shifted his position and looked about, then he settled back, transferring his weight to the other foot, and resumed his bovine meditations. The man at the rear of the guardhouse moved silently along the side of the structure until he stood within a few feet of the unsuspecting sentinel, hidden from him by the corner of the building. A heavy revolver dangled from his right hand. He held it loosely by the barrel, and waited. For five minutes the silence of the night was unbroken, then from the east came a single shot, followed immediately by a scattering fusillade and a chorus of hoarse cries. Billy Byrne smiled. The sentry resumed indications of quickness. From the barracks beyond the guardhouse came sharp commands and the sounds of men running. From the opposite end of the town the noise of battle welled up to ominous proportions. Billy heard the soldiers stream from their quarters and a moment later saw them trot up the street at the double. Everyone was moving toward the opposite end of the town except the lone sentinel before the guardhouse. The moment seemed propitious for his attempt. Billy peered around the corner of the guardhouse. Conditions were just as he had pictured they would be. The sentry stood gazing in the direction of the firing, his back toward the guardhouse door and Billy. With a bound the American cleared the space between himself and the unsuspecting and unfortunate soldier. The butt of the heavy revolver fell, almost noiselessly, upon the back of the sentry's head, and the man sank to the ground without even a moan. Turning to the door Billy knocked the bar from its place, the door swung in and Bridge slipped through to liberty.