him, he slept like one drugged, the clock around and more. It was morning, mid-morning, when he wakened.
Even then he was too late, but he wasted priceless minutes using the luxury of hot water to shave. He wasted more priceless minutes eating his breakfast, for it was delightful beyond words to have food served to him which he had not cooked with his own hands. And so, sauntering out onto the veranda of the hotel, he saw a compact crowd on the other side of the square and the crowd focused on a man who was tacking up a sign. Andrew, still sauntering, joined the crowd, and looking over their heads, he found his own face staring back at him; and, under the picture of that lean, serious face, in huge black type, five thousand dollars reward for the capture, dead or alive
The rest of the notice blurred before his eyes.
Some one was speaking. "You made a quick trip, Mr. Dozier, and I expect if you send word up to Hallowell in the mountains they can"
So Hal Dozier had brought the notices himself.
Andrew, in that moment, became perfectly calm. And he felt that tingling nervousness in his knees, in his elbows, and thrilling into the tips of his fingers.
He went back to the hotel, and, resting one elbow on the desk, he looked calmly into the face of the clerk and the proprietor. Instantly he saw that the men did not suspect—as yet.
"I hear Mr. Dozier's here?" he asked.
"Room seventeen," said the clerk. "Hold on. He's out in the square now."
"'S all right. I'll wait in his room."
He went to room seventeen. The door was unlocked. And drawing a chair into the farthest corner, Andrew sat down, rolled a cigarette, drew his revolver, and waited.
