making his fortune if he plays a straight game.  It’s been a chance to make good for every one of us, and it’s thanks to Fletcher Hill—­because he hasn’t asked questions—­because he’s just taken us on trust—­and I’m hanged if he doesn’t deserve something better than a bullet through his brain, even if he is a magistrate and a policeman and a man of honour.  Have you got that, boys?  Then chew it over and swallow it!  And when you’ve done that, I’ll tell you something more.”

“Oh, let’s have it all, boss, now you’re at it!” broke in Nixon.  “We shan’t have hysterics now.  We’re past that stage.”

Warden turned with a lightning movement and laid his hand upon the girl beside him.  “Gentlemen,” he said, “it’s Fletcher Hill—­and not Buckskin Bill—­who’s the boss of this valley.  And he’s a good boss—­he’s a sportsman—­he’s a maker of men.  And this lady is going to be his wife.  You’re going to stand by her, boys.  You aren’t going to make a widow of her before she’s married.  You aren’t going to let a skunk like Harley make skunks of you all.  You’re sportsmen, too—­better sportsmen than that stands for—­better sportsmen, maybe, than I am myself.  What, boys?  It’s your turn to speak now.”

“Wait a bit!” said Nixon.  “You haven’t quite finished yet, boss.”

“No, that’s true.”  Warden paused an instant, then abruptly went forward a pace and stood alone before the crowd.  “I’ve taken a good many chances in my life,” he said.  “But now I’m taking the biggest of ’em all.  Boys, I’m a damned impostor.  I’ve tricked you all, and it’s up to you to stick me against a wall and shoot me as I deserve, if you feel that way.  For I’m Buckskin Bill—­I’m Fortescue—­and I’m several kinds of a fool to think I could ever carry it through.  Now you know!”

With defiant recklessness he flung the words.  They were more of a challenge than a confession.  And having spoken them he moved straight forward with the moonlight on his face till he stood practically among the rough crowd.

They opened out to receive him, almost as if at a word of command.  And Buckskin Bill, with his head high and his blue eyes flaming, went straight into them with the gait of a conqueror.

Suddenly, with a passionate gesture, he stopped, flinging up his empty right hand.  “Well, boys, well?  What’s the verdict?  I’m in your hands.”

And a great hoarse roar of enthusiasm went up as they closed around him that was like the bursting asunder of mighty flood-gates.  They surged about him.  They lifted him on their shoulders.  They yelled like maniacs and fired their revolvers in the air.  It was the wildest outbreak that Barren Valley had ever heard, and to the girl who watched it, it was the most marvellous revelation of a man’s magnetism that she had ever beheld.  Alone he had faced and conquered a multitude.

It pierced her strangely, that fierce enthusiasm, stirring her as personal danger had failed to stir.  She turned with the tears running down her face and found Fletcher Hill standing unnoticed behind her, silently looking on.