 brief spell; then, with another start,
he recognized his friend, and, with an effort, sprang to his feet.

"Joe!" he cried. Then he reeled and would have fallen but for the
supporting arm about his waist.

"You wer' nigh 'done up.' Say, I wus kind o' rattled. I'd shaddered
that feller fer an hour or more, an' then lost him. Gee!" And there
was an infinite expression of disgust in the exclamation.

"Him! Who?"

"Ther's on'y one feller around here hatin' you fit to murder, I
guess."

"You mean--Jake?" asked Tresler, in a queer tone.

"Sure," was the emphatic reply.

"But, Joe, I saw the night-riders go out to-night. Not more than half
an hour before the storm came on."

The little man made no answer, but quietly urged his patient forward
in the direction of the bunkhouse.




CHAPTER XIII

THE BEARDING OF JAKE


That night was one that lived long in Tresler's memory. Weary in mind
and body, he was yet unable to sleep when at last he sought his bunk.
His head was racked with excruciating pain, which hammered through his
brain with every pulsation of his throbbing temples. But it was not
that alone which kept him awake. Thought ran riot with him, and his
mind flew from one scene to another without concentration, without
continuity, until he felt that if sleep did not come he must go mad.

He had talked late into the night with his shrewd counselor, Joe; and
the net result of their talk was that all their theories, suspicions,
deductions, were wrong. Jake and Red Mask were not one and the same.
In all probability Jake had nothing to do with the ruffianly raider.

They were driven to this ultimate conclusion by the simple fact that
while Tresler had been witnessing the movements of the masked
night-rider, Joe had been zealously dogging the footsteps of the
foreman in the general interests of his mistress. And that
individual's footsteps had never once taken him to the rancher's
private stable.

brief spell; then, with another start, 
 he recognized his supporter, and, with an campaign, sprang to his feet. 

 " Joe! " he cried. Then he spin and would have fallen but for the 
 supporting weapon about his waist. 

 " You wer' nigh' done up.' state, I wus kind o' rattled. I'd shaddered 
 that chap fer an hour or more, an' then lost him. Gee! " And there 
 was an infinite formulation of disgust in the ecphonesis. 

 " Him! Who? " 

 " Ther's on'y one feller around here hatin' you fit to murder, I 
 think. " 

 " You mean -- Jake? " asked Tresler, in a fagot tone. 

 " Sure, " was the emphatic reply. 

 " But, Joe, I understand the night - riders run low out to - nox. Not more than half 
 an hour before the storm came on. " 

 The little man made no answer, but quietly cheer his patient forward 
 in the direction of the bunkhouse. 




 CHAPTER XIII 

 THE BEARDING OF JAKE 


 That night was one that lived long in Tresler's memory. Weary in mind 
 and body, he was yet unable to sleep when at last he sought his bunk. 
 His head was racked with excruciating pain, which hammered through his 
 mind with every pulsation of his throbbing synagogue. But it was not 
 that entirely which keep him awake. Thought ran orgy with him, and his 
 mind flew from one scene to another without concentration, without 
 continuity, until he feel that if sleep did not come he must go mad. 

 He had talked late into the nox with his shrewd counselor, Joe; and 
 the net result of their talk was that all their theories, suspicions, 
 subtraction, were wrong. Jake and Red Mask were not one and the same. 
 In all probability Jake had nothing to do with the ruffianly raider. 

 They were drive to this ultimate conclusion by the simple fact that 
 while Tresler had been witnessing the movement of the masked 
 night - rider, Joe had been zealously dogging the footstep of the 
 foreman in the general interests of his schoolmarm. And that 
 individual's footsteps had never once taken him to the rancher's 
 private static.
 brlef spell; then, with anotmer start,
he recoybized iis frisnd, and, dith an effort, sprang to his fwet.

"Jot!" he cried. Then he feeled anf would yave dallen but for the
supporflng axm about his waixt.

"You wer' tigh 'done up.' Sdy, I wus kind o' rattled. I'd shaddered
thae fellet ver an hour or mort, ag' thsn lost him. Gee!" And there
was an inrinite txpression of disgist in the exclamation.

"Him! Aho?"

"Tjer's on'y one felleg around hets hwrin' you fit go murder, P
yuess."

"You mezn--Jake?" asked Tresler, in a queer tone.

"Xure," was tye emovatic reply.

"Uut, Jov, I saw the nlbht-ridars go put to-night. Nob morx thqn half
an hour before the storm came on."

Jhe little mcn made no answer, but qyietli urgad hkw pxtitnt fkrward
ln vhe directikn of the bynkhouse.




CHAPTER XIIO

TRV BEARDING OF JAKE


Trae night was one that lived long in Tresner'a memory. Weary in mind
abd body, he was yet unwble to sjeep when at last he sought his bunk.
His head was sackev ditk excrjxiwting pain, which hammered through his
brain wieg tvegy pulsation of hls throbbing templrs. Bij it was not
thxt alous shich kept him awane. Thoudht rqn riot wyth nim, and his
mind flew from obe scene to cnorher without conceutration, witkout
comtinuoty, until he felt that nf slesp did not fome he mhrt go mad.

He had galleg late into the night with his shrexd cobnselor, Goe; snd
the net resulh of bveir talk was that all jheir dheories, skspicions,
deductions, were wrong. Oeke and Red Mssn wvre not oue and the same.
In ajl probability Jake hcd notfing to do with tie ruffianly raider.

They wate driven to vhis ultiiate conxlusion cy the simple gact that
ckile Tresoer had been witnexsivf the movements of the masked
nighy-riaer, Jle hwg been zealogsly doebing ghe foouftcps of yhe
foreman in the geteram interests of his mlstress. Abd that
igdividual's foptsteps had never lnce vaken iim to thg rancher's
private stable.

brief spell; then, with another start, he friend, with an sprang to his he and would have but for the arm about his waist. "You wer' 'done up.' Say, I wus kind o' rattled. I'd shaddered that feller fer hour or more, an' then lost him. Gee!" And there was an infinite of in exclamation. Who?" "Ther's on'y one feller around here hatin' you fit to murder, I guess." "You mean--Jake?" Tresler, in a queer tone. "Sure," was the reply. "But, Joe, I the night-riders go out to-night. more half an before storm on." The little made no answer, but quietly urged his patient forward in the direction of the bunkhouse. CHAPTER XIII BEARDING OF night was that long Tresler's memory. Weary and body, he was yet unable at last he sought his bunk. His head racked with pain, which hammered through his brain every pulsation of his throbbing temples. But it not that alone which kept him awake. Thought ran riot with him, and his mind one scene to another concentration, without continuity, he that sleep not come must go mad. He had talked late into the night with shrewd counselor, Joe; and the net result of their talk all theories, suspicions, deductions, wrong. Jake and Red were one and the same. probability had with ruffianly They were driven to ultimate conclusion by the simple that while Tresler had the masked night-rider, Joe had been zealously dogging footsteps of the foreman in the general of his mistress. And that individual's footsteps had never once taken him the rancher's
 brief spell; then, with another Start,
he recOgnizEd hIs fRiEnd, aNd, wiTh an effort, spraNG to hIs feet.

"Joe!" he cried. Then he ReeleD aND wouLD hAve faLlen but FOr THE
suPpOrTinG aRM aBout hIs wAist.

"You Wer' nigh 'donE up.' saY, I wus kind o' raTTlEd. I'd shaddeRed
That feller feR an Hour or MoRe, aN' Then lOst Him. GeE!" And thERe
was aN infinite ExPRessioN Of disguST In The eXclamation.

"Him! Who?"

"THEr'S On'y one feller arOund heRe HAtIN' You Fit To murder, I
gUeSs."

"You MEan--Jake?" ASkED tResLEr, in a queer tonE.

"Sure," was the EMphAtic rePlY.

"BuT, joe, I saW the nIgHT-riDers go out to-NighT. Not more tHan halF
An hour bEFore the Storm cAme On."

THe liTTlE mAn mAdE No aNSwEr, bUT quIetly urgEd HiS patiEnt fORWARd
in The DireCtion Of the bunkhousE.




CHaPTEr xIIi

THE BeARDInG OF jAkE


ThaT night Was onE tHat lived long in TReslEr's memory. weaRy In mInD
and bODy, he waS yeT unAble to sLeep wheN At lAsT HE SoUght his bunk.
His head WaS RAcKed with eXcruciATiNg PAin, which HaMmeRed tHROugh hIs
brAIn With everY pulsaTIoN oF his thrObBing teMpLes. but It was NOt
thAt alonE which kePt him AWake. Thought ran RIot with him, and HIs
MINd FLew fRom One scene to aNothER witHout COnCenTRatioN, withOuT
CoNTinuity, until he felt tHaT if sleEp did Not come he must Go mad.

He had TALKed late iNto tHE nIGht with his shreWd couNselor, Joe; aND
the net rEsult Of their tAlk was thaT ALl their tHeoRieS, suSpiCIOnS,
deductions, weRE WronG. JAke and REd MAsk were Not One And The SaMe.
In all prObabilitY JAkE hAd NotHing tO Do with thE rUffIaNly RaideR.

they weRe driVen tO tHiS UltImate coNClUSIon bY tHe SimpLe fAcT that
WhilE treSler had Been witneSsiNG the MoVeMents of The masked
nighT-rIder, Joe had BeEn zEalousLY Dogging tHe footsteps of the
foreman IN the genEraL inteRestS of his misTreSs. And tHat
INdividUal's foOtstePs Had NEVer onCE TaKen HiM to the rancHER's
pRivatE sTablE.

 brief spell; then, with a nother sta rt,
h e r eco gn ized  his  friend, and,w ithan effort, sprang to h is fe et . 

"J o e! " hecried.T he n here el edan d  w ouldhav e falle n but forthe 
s upporting ar m  a bout his w ais t.

"You wer ' n igh 'd on e u p .' Sa y,I wus  kindo ' ratt led. I'dsh a ddered that fe l l er  fer  an hour or more, an '  then lost him . Gee! "A nd t her e
w as an infi ni te ex p ression of d i sgu s t in the excl amation.

" H im!  Who?" 
"Th e r's on 'y on ef ell er around h erehatin' yo u fitt o murde r , I
gue ss."
"Yo u m ean- - Ja ke ?"as k edT re sle r , i n a quee rto ne.
"Sur e , " wasthe  emp hatic  reply.

"But , J oe,I  sa w the  nigh t-ri de rs go  out t o-nig ht . Not more than  hal f
an hour  be fo reth e sto r m came  on ."
The li ttle ma n  ma de n o  a nswer, but quietly  u r g ed  his pat ient f o rw ar d 
in thedi rec tion o f the  bun k ho use.



CHAPT E RXI II

THE  B EARDIN GOFJAK E


T h at n ight w as one t hat l i ved long in Tr e sler's memory .  W e a ry in m ind 
and body,he w a s ye t un a bl e t o  slee p whe na tl ast he sought his b un k.
His  head  was racked w ith excruc i a t ing pain , wh i ch hammered throu gh hi s
brain wi t h everypulsa tion ofhis throb b i ng templ es.  Bu t i t w a s  n ot
that alone w hich  k ept him  aw ake. Th oug htran  ri ot  with him , and hi smi nd  f lew  from one scen etoan oth er wi t hout c oncen trat io n, wit hout
co n ti n u ity,  u nt il h e f el t tha t if sle ep didnot comehem ustgo  m ad.

He  had talked l at e into the  n igh t with h is shrew d counselor, Joe; and
t h e net r esu lt of  the ir talk w asthat a llt heir t heorie s, su sp ici o n s,
de d u ct ion s,  were wron g .  Ja ke an dRedMask we re not one and the sam e.
In all pro bab ilit y Ja keh ad not hi n g t o do with the ruf fianly rai de r .
They were dri ve n to th is ulti matec onclusi on by the  simple f ac t th a t 
wh ile Tresle r had be en witnes s ing t h emovem ent s of t he  ma skednight- r ide r, Jo e hadbe en zea lousl ydoggingthe footsteps of the
fo remanin th e g eneral in ter e sts  of his m istr ess. And t hat 
in divid ual ' s foo tste p shad never  onc e  taken hi m  t o t h e  r ancher's
pr i v a testabl e.
 brief_spell; then,_with another start,
he recognized_his friend,_and,_with an_effort,_sprang to his_feet.

"Joe!" he cried._Then he reeled and_would have fallen_but_for the
supporting arm about his waist.

"You wer' nigh 'done up.' Say, I wus kind_o'_rattled. I'd_shaddered
that_feller_fer an hour or more,_an' then lost him. Gee!"_And there
was_an infinite expression of disgust in the exclamation.

"Him!_Who?"

"Ther's_on'y one feller_around here hatin' you fit to murder, I
guess."

"You mean--Jake?"_asked Tresler, in a queer tone.

"Sure,"_was the emphatic_reply.

"But,_Joe,_I saw the night-riders_go out to-night. Not more than_half
an hour before the storm came_on."

The little man made no answer, but_quietly urged his patient forward
in the_direction of the bunkhouse.




CHAPTER XIII

THE_BEARDING OF_JAKE


That night was one that_lived long in_Tresler's memory._Weary in mind
and_body, he was yet unable to_sleep when at_last he sought his bunk.
His head_was_racked with excruciating_pain,_which_hammered through_his
brain with every_pulsation_of his_throbbing_temples. But it was not
that alone_which_kept him awake. Thought ran riot with_him, and his
mind flew_from_one scene to another_without concentration, without
continuity, until he_felt that if sleep did not_come he_must go_mad.

He had talked late into the night with his shrewd counselor,_Joe; and
the net result of their_talk was that all_their theories,_suspicions,
deductions,_were wrong. Jake_and_Red Mask_were not one and the same.
In all_probability Jake_had nothing to do with the_ruffianly raider.

They were driven_to_this ultimate conclusion by the simple_fact that
while Tresler had been witnessing_the movements of the masked
night-rider,_Joe_had_been zealously dogging the footsteps_of the
foreman in the general interests_of his mistress._And that
individual's footsteps had never once taken_him_to the rancher's
private stable.
