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 to the convoy; then to Von Tromp, in biting accents, "An' you tell the people down Cheyenne way we folks on the range here don't sit into no game with hired killers and tin-horn lawyers."

So Warren C. Von Tromp, playing nip and tuck with the first of the mob to stream round a far corner of the alley, went away from the scene of a vivid and novel experience. A sadder, perhaps, but not a whit a wiser man.

The mob spirit, which had coalesced about the person of the lawyer on mere rumor and found itself cowed for the minute and cheated of a victim, soon was blown upon by a great wind of provocation. Uncle Alf, who had snatched a few hours of sleep in Sheriff Agnew's quarters, awoke in mid-afternoon refreshed and filled with a great zeal. Unconsciously he dodged restraint by Agnew, who feared to have the evangelist abroad to carry with his fiery tongue tinder to the temper of the town Agnew was busy with the district attorney, arranging for the summoning of an extraordinary grand jury to indict the Killer when Uncle Alf shook sleep from his eyes and prepared to preach crusade to Two Moons. Mrs. Agnew, instructed to "herd the old