“My Gawd!” exclaimed Racey, as a shriek rent the air.  “The girl’s in there!”

He had for the moment forgotten that Marie was incarcerated in the jail.  But Kansas Casey had not forgotten.  Racey, having picked up a handy axe, raced round to the back only to find the deputy unlocking the back door.  A burst of smoke as he flung open the door assailed their lungs.  Choking, holding their breath, both men dashed into the jail.  Kansas unlocked the girl’s cell.

“You shore took yore time about comin’,” drawled Marie.  “I didn’t know but what I’d be burned up with the rest of the jail.  You big lummox!  You don’t have to bust my wrist, do you?  Go easy, or I’ll claw yore face off!”

Once outside they were immediately surrounded by the townsfolk.  Most of them were laughing.  But Jake Rule was not laughing.

“Good joke on you, Jake,” grinned a friend.  “Burned herself out on you, didn’t she?”

“You can’t keep a good man down,” shouted another.

“Never let the baby play with matches,” advised a third.

“Get pails, gents!” shouted Rule.  “We gotta put it out.  Where’s a pail?  Who—­”

“Aw, let ’er burn,” said Galloway.  “Hownell you gonna put it out?  She’s all blazin’ inside.  You couldn’t put it out with Shoshone Falls.”

“The wind’s blowin’ away from town,” contributed Mike Flynn.  “Nothin’ else’ll catch.  Besides, we been needing a new calaboose for a long time.  You done us a better turn than you think, Marie.”

“If you say I set the jail afire, Mike Flynn,” cried Marie, “Yo’re a liar by the clock.”

“You set it afire,” said the sheriff, sternly.  “You’ll find it a serious business setting a jail afire.”

“Prove I done it, then!” squalled Marie.  “Prove it, you slab-sided hunk!  Yah, you can’t prove it, and you know it!”

To this the sheriff made no reply.

“We gotta put her somewhere till the Judge gets sober,” he said, hurriedly.  “Guess we’ll put her in yore back room, Mike.”

“Guess you won’t,” countered Mike.  “They ain’t any insurance on my place, and I ain’t taking no chances, not a chance.”

“There’s the hotel,” suggested Kansas Casey.

“You don’t use my hotel for no calaboose,” squawked Bill Lainey.  “Nawsir.  Not much.  You put her in yore own house, Jake.  Then if she sets you afire, it’s your own fault.  Yeah.”

Jake Rule scratched his head.  It was patent that he did not quite know what to do.  Came then Dolan, the local justice of the peace.  Dolan’s hair was plastered well over his ears and forehead.  Dolan was pale yellow of countenance and breathed strongly through his nose.  He looked not a little sick.  He pawed a way through the crowd and cast a bilious glance at Marie.

He inquired of Jake Rule as to the trouble and its cause.  On being told he convened court on the spot.  Judge Dolan agreed with Mike Flynn that the burning of the jail was a trivial matter requiring no official attention.  For was not Dolan’s brother-in-law a carpenter and would undoubtedly be given the contract for a new jail.  Quite so.