rest, leave that to me. I have, I believe, some little influence at headquarters, and I shall personally call upon the inspector."
The officer glanced at the slip of paper which the other thrust into his hand. It was written in four figures. He looked up. Something in the old man's attitude--the unspoken pain in the eyes--the pathetic droop of the shoulders, struck a responsive chord in the heart of the officer.
Impulsively he extended the hand in which the check remained unfolded.
"Here, Mr. Carmody, I can't take your money. You didn't get me right. I start out to knife you for what I can get, an' you wind up by treatin' me white. It wasn't your fault, nohow, an' I didn't know how you felt about--things."
There may have been just the shadow of a smile at the corners of Hiram Carmody's mouth as he waved a dismissal.
"We will consider the incident closed," he said.
At the door the officer turned to the younger man, who had been a silent listener.
"It's a pity to
This has it all! a rejected love, man trying to prove himself, adventure, plots, two-fisted action and two-sided love affair. It's so sad that Hendryx wrote only four western novels --or did he write more?
