cash had been drinking heavily all day, but there was no sign that it had weakened his faculties. on the contrary, the exhilaration of the liquor served to strengthen his dogged humor as he compelled the inmates of the saloon, strangers and all, to do his bidding.

"by jove, di, we are in for it," sir john muttered. then he turned irritably to henry, who was close to him, "you have let us get in for a nice mess up." he was not afraid, but more than anything in the world he disliked a scene. he had travelled enough to know that they were at the mercy of the rough humor of these men. when occasion warranted he could match others in decision and courage, but he also knew that the consequences of the present situation were apt to be needlessly unpleasant. from the beginning he had been averse to henry's allowing diana to come with them; however, they must find a way out of it. he began to survey the crowd of men critically.

jim, who was watching diana, spoke, though still hidden among the crowd at the bar.

"there are some outsiders, hawkins, from the train. you don't care to mix them up in our festivities, i suppose." by humoring cash he also hoped to find a way out for diana and the others. his voice attracted sir john's attention.

"quite so," he rejoined. "we have had a delightful time, don't you know." then he turned to the desperado, who, with the smoking pistol still in his hand, was leaning against the centre-table and laughing at the strangers' discomfiture. "awfully jolly of you to invite us, but circumstances over which we have no control, don't you know—" he grew painfully muddled.

"that's right, pane in the face," said cash.

sir john dropped his eye-glass in disgust.

"circumstances over which you have no control," sneered cash. "you describe the situation accurate. i'm a-runnin' this here garden-party, and i ain't agoin' to let anybody miss the fun—savvy?"

jim's intervention had only hurt their chances of escaping from the saloon. cash motioned his men, with their drawn guns, to stand close at the entrances. jim saw diana turn pale. he forgot everything; he only knew that she stood there—that at this moment henry and sir john were powerless to help her. he must get her away from the place; he would agree promise cash whatever he wished in return—only diana must be allowed to leave.

"but the lady—you won't detain the lady against her will?" he knew the weakness of cash's nature; to appeal to him as a gallant might be efficacious. in his earnestness to carry his point jim stepped out from among the men around the bar.

almost simultaneously a low cry of "jim" broke from henry and diana. it was followed by an ejaculation from sir john. it passed unremarked, and jim determined to ignore what his impetuous folly had brought upon him. cash was oblivious of everything save his revenge. he bowed low to diana—he would be polite to the lady, even if the request came from jim.

"i am going to give the lady the chance to see how an englishman looks when he has to take his medicine." he looked at diana. "she's sure a thoroughbred—she ain't batted an eye nor turned a hair. i'll bet a hundred to one she stays."

diana could at that moment have passed out of the saloon, leaving henry and sir john there, but she saw only jim. it was jim—jim in those strange clothes—jim so bronzed, so strong, so masterful. what a contrast to henry!

cash waited for her answer. he adored playing to the gallery—this was heightening the situation beyond all expectation.

"she stays," he finally said. "good! gents, this is to be a nice, quiet, sociable affair—ladies are present. any effort to create trouble will be nipped in the bud. gents, to the bar."

he turned to henry and sir john as he spoke. he had a contempt for the men, but there was something about this quiet, dignified woman that embarrassed him, though he would have been the last to admit it. a few more drinks and he might be dangerous, but at present he was still master of himself. his game was to make jim and his gang ridiculous before the strangers. afterwards—well, then the serious settling of their score should come. he took a glass that was handed him across the bar and gulped down its contents.

henry was whispering to diana, "for god's sake, go—you can, and later we will follow you. this will be over in a minute." but diana only held tighter the rail of the chair.

"we can't drink with this confounded bounder, henry," sir john expostulated. "it's too absurd, you know. her majesty's officers can't do a thing like that, now can they?"

"we must humor the drunken brute, sir john, that's the only way out of it."

that jim was there none of them acknowledged to each other. events were assuming a strange unreality. what had been meant for a half-hours diversion was involving them in a highly dangerous situation. the saloon grew hotter—little air reached them through the barred doorway. still diana did not go. the old imperative cry, stifled for the last two years, awoke again. she forgot the dust, the hot saloon, the swaggering crowd of ranchmen. the noise and wild excitement fell on her unheeding ears. jim was there, and his presence held her rooted to the spot.

jim had moved into a corner at the lower end of the bar, and furtively watched cash and his men.

"step up lively, sonny," cash called to sir john and henry, "or you may have to dance the highland fling."

sir john stole a look of self-justification at diana, but she did not see it. it was turning out just as he had told her.

"and shoot our toes off, by jove," he whispered to henry. "and he'll do it, too, confounded bounder!" he muttered, as both men went towards the bar and were met by pete, who handed them each a glass of evil-looking whiskey.

cash began to direct the scene. "hand out the nose-paint, gents."

every one took a drink, jim too; for her sake he would do as hawkins wished. it would be the quickest way to end this part of the business. the serious end of it would follow when they were alone.

suddenly cash, whose last two drinks were rendering him more offensive, and who was determined to annoy sir john as well as jim, said, "gents, to the success of the boers."

to the crowd it was a foolish toast; it meant nothing to them. but they had hardly begun to toss off their drinks when there came a crack of glass, as sir john applegate threw his tumbler on the floor and said, "no, i'll be damned."

cash turned on him with an imprecation, and started to cover him with his gun. this unexpected diversion was the chance that jim had been looking for. in an instant he had thrown his untasted liquor into cash hawkins's face. it blinded cash. involuntarily he fumbled with his guns, and in an instant jim had thrust his revolver into cash's side. there was a moment of pandemonium as cash's imprecations filled the air. the men at the door started forward, but they had to pay for the moment's lowering of their guns. big bill and jim's men had been eagerly watching their opportunity, and speedily covered cash's gang.

"put your hands up quick," jim ordered.

cash, with visible reluctance, complied. there was a suppressed madness of excitement in jim's voice as he said to sir john applegate: "oblige me by relieving the gentleman of his guns; it will tire him to hold it up there too long." sir john obeyed. it was a critical moment—one never knew which way a crowd in a saloon would veer, and there might have been a riot if cash had been more popular. as it happened there was a laugh at jim's words. sir john reached for the guns. cash, gaunt and terrible to look at, stood still while they were taken from him. the pressure of the muzzle at his side caused him to loosen his final reluctant finger.

"delighted, charmed, i'm sure," sir john agreed.

jim, still covering cash with his gun, drove him up against the bar. those of the crowd who knew him realized that they were seeing a new man in the englishman. he was conscious of diana's luminous face back of him, of henry's gray countenance close to her as he quietly expostulated with her. the crowd swung close to the new boss. this was what they wanted. they believed he would prove the new leader for maverick.

"every man's hands on the bar," the englishman called, and he and his men covered the crowd at these words. "i ask you," jim quietly said, "to drink with me to the president of the united states."

men who had cursed their president, defied the laws of the country that had elected him, and who were fugitives from the justice of their land were touched by the simple and tactful toast. all glasses were raised. they were about to drink, but the first sentence was followed by the words:

"and to her gracious majesty, the queen."

this time jim stood ready to shoot; but it was unnecessary—the crowd echoed the toast. why not? the englishman was right. their country—then his. not a bad sort. so the murmurs went around.

suddenly hawkins said, as he watched sir john:

"your little glass-eyed friend don't drink."

sir john's glass was still untouched.

"oh yes, he's goin' to drink," shorty cut in, as he crossed to the group near the table.

"ain't nobody excused on a formal show-down like this!" bill called.

but sir john, carried away by indignation at jim's daring to propose that toast to the country and the sovereign he believed jim had so dishonored, vehemently answered:

"i'm an officer in her majesty's service, and, by jove! i won't drink with a man who fled from england after robbing the widows and orphans of the queen's soldiers, and you can do what you jolly well like about it."

all eyes were turned on jim. would he kill the stranger? henry held diana by the arm. jim grew pale under the strain of the moment's intensity.

cash was the first to speak. "what do you say to that?" he drawled, after a prolonged whistle.

but jim kept his eyes fastened on sir john. "if i were the man you think me," he said, "you would never have finished that sentence. you have evidently mistaken me for some one else. my name is jim carston, and i never took a penny that did not belong to me."

even to sir john the words rang true, but he had lost all control—he was determined to avenge the old score of dishonor against his regiment.

"why, confound your impudence, there stands your cousin, henry kerhill!"

the crowd swung around. this was the moment—it had been a day for maverick. what were they now to learn of cash's "angel-face"?

henry crossed to jim and faced him. there was a pause. "yes," he answered, with as much nonchalance as he could assume, "i believe the gentleman does bear a certain bald resemblance to the man you mean, but it is evidently a case of mistaken identity." diana's eyes were following him with their mute appeal. he continued: "you will observe, sir john, that i drank the toast. i trust you will not refuse to drink to our queen with these gentlemen in a foreign country."

the ranchmen liked these englishmen. they were being treated with great consideration; the little one was amusing but he was all right. so ran the verdict of the long horn saloon.

sir john applegate stood unconvinced. henry's eyes were fastened on him, and he read there something that held a reason for his denial. at all events he had been most unwise—he knew that now—and he must, for diana's sake, undo his hasty words.

"well, of course," he began, as he realized that further comment would be futile, "i was under the impression that i hadn't had a drink—not one, by jove! well, i must be squiffy." the cow-punchers laughed. "here's," he finished, "to her gracious majesty the queen—god bless her!"

big bill, who would have been an arch-diplomat in another sphere of life, said:

"not forgettin' his gracious majesty the president, you know."

sir john rose to the occasion. "oh, quite so—his royal highness the president—god bless him!"

the men slapped one another in appreciation of the joke. sir john tried to drink the whiskey of the country, but with a sigh he said, after the first taste, "say, as i must drink, please make it scotch."

during the scene in the saloon the car had drawn down the line and was shunting up and down the rails in a way comprehensible only to the powers that control an engine. henry apprehensively looked towards the car, and went to meet dan, whom he could see at the farther end of the platform. the meeting with jim had been painful, and he was almost at his wits' end. as he could not force diana's prompt withdrawal, he would fetch dan to insist upon the passengers' return to the car.

jim had seen henry slip away unobserved. would diana and sir john never go? he could see that the excitement was beginning to tell on diana. suddenly she swayed—yet he dared not go near her.

"bill," he called, "the lady looks as though she were going to faint."

sir john and bill started towards diana, but bill was the first to reach her. he quickly grasped her by the arm and steadied her.

diana smiled at him. "thank you, i was dizzy for a moment."

"on behalf of the genuine cow-boys present, i must apologize to this lady for being forced to remain in a place like this. you may go, madam." jim spoke without looking at her.

"thank you," diana answered. "i am a bit shaken, but i'm glad i stayed."

bill was still holding her hand as he drew a chair towards her. "you're tremblin', lady. nick"—he turned to the bar—"ain't you got nothin' in the way of a ladies' drink?"

"right off the bat." nick took a bottle from the pyramid behind the bar. "here's a bottle of rhine wine as has been an ornament here for fifteen years." as he spoke he dusted the slender-throated flagon. "it's unsalable. i never tasted it but once, and i hardly knowed i had had a drink. it was just like weak tea; but it's a regulation ladies' drink, and if the lady will honor me, it's sure on the house."

diana had sunk into the chair—she was too dazed to know what to do. sir john was near her.

"that's very kind of you, i'm sure," diana said. she took the glass from bill's hand. "i feel better already."

"it 'ain't got no real substance to it, lady, but it's the best nick's got, and we'd like to have you accept it, jest to show that you know that all western men ain't bad men and all cow-boys ain't loafers."

as he spoke, bill bowed low. like a gallant of old, he trailed his sombrero on the ground. some of the men began to feel sentimental—they were like weather-cocks, responding readily with their susceptible natures to the swaying influence of the moment.

hardly knowing what she was doing, diana sprang to her feet. jim would not look towards her—well, then, she must send him some message. "i think i understand," she said to bill. "if you will let me, i would like to propose a toast—will you let me?"

the room echoed the assent of the men. they were all cavaliers—all sombreros were off and all bowed low before diana. the cow-boy has much of the player in him. hardly able to steady her sweet, tremulous voice, diana turned directly to jim and moved nearer to him, while she lifted her glass high in the air.

"to the queen's champion, mr.—" she paused, her eyes were blinded, her brain clouded. what was the name he had called himself? "mr.—" she again repeated.

bill's voice answered, "jim carston's his name, lady."

higher she held the glass. jim had turned in amazement. her eyes met his.

"mr. jim carston." her voice rang clear and vibrant this time.

"and every son of a gun in this hole drinks to that, or we'll know the reason why—eh, boys?" bill jubilantly cried. their boss had brought glory to them that day.

"jim carston! jim carston!" the name rang through the place, and the toast was drunk with enthusiasm. in the midst of it all the centre door was thrown open and the conductor's big voice bawled:

"all passengers for the overland limited—all aboard!"