"Bill Tucker sent up north an' asked one of them gun-slingin' sheriffs to come an' help ketch the quartz thieves," the messenger explained. "Never knew Bill Tucker had enough sense to do that. Always figgered him as the dumbest town marshal I ever see," Pop Howes grunted. He arose, buckled on his gun, took his coat and hat from the peg behind the door, and filled his pipe. After he had lighted it he turned to the messenger and asked thoughtfully: "Who's this gun-slingin' hombre?" "Jack-twin Allen, the Wyoming sheriff." Pop Howes glanced at the small figure sitting by the fire, started to speak, thought better of it, and clumped from the room. The messenger followed. The woman glanced curiously at Jim Allen, but her curiosity was tinged by sympathy and understanding. After a moment she asked falteringly: "He's your brother?" "Yeh. Twin brother." The voice was toneless, flat. "An'--have you spoken to him?" she asked. At the sight of his face she instantly regretted her words. "Naw, an' I don't reckon I will. 'Cause, yuh see, Jack's here on business, an' he can't go cavortin' about with a disreputable gent like me. Reckon I'll pull out pronto." Jim Allen was grinning now and he spoke with assumed indifference, but the woman saw behind the mask. "Let me tell yuh somethin', ma'am. Jack Allen is the darnedest, fightingest gent I ever see. Let me tell yuh what he done now." Enthusiastically Allen poured out praises of his brother's courage, his skill, and the wonderful things he had accomplished. But the more he praised his brother, the more the woman understood his grief. Jim-twin Allen was an outlaw, with a fortune on his head; his brother was an officer of the law--the gulf between the two was insurmountable. * * * * * When Pop Howes arrived at the hotel he found "Hard-rock" Hogan and Bill Tucker, the town marshal, waiting for him. Tucker was a powerfully built man with a round, red face, a large mouth, and small gray eyes. "Howdy, Pop!" he cried jovially. "We sent for Baldy Kane, Steven Brandon, 'Two-finger' Smith, and some of the other boys. Bill Tucker sent up North and asked Jack-twin Allen--yuh've heard of him, yes?--well, Bill asked him to come on down here to help ketch these here quartz robbers. Well, he's here now, feedin' his face, an' he'll be in here pronto." Bill Tucker cultivated a hearty, jovial manner, and, as the different owners and managers of mines in the gulch arrived, he greeted each one like a long-lost brother. Steve Brandon, the manager of the El Dorado, was one of the last to arrive. He was a short, heavy man with gray hair and a close-cropped mustache. When he spoke he snapped out his words like pistol shots. Shortly after Steve Brandon arrived, Baldy Kane slid into the room. He nodded to those present, and then his face became an expressionless, claylike mask. He silently drifted into a dark corner.