FOOLISH HABITS A sharp noise of running feet leaped from the dust of the street and clattered through the doorway; the two turned.

A swarthy man, broad of shoulder, was the first, and afterward appeared Nash.
"Conklin ?" called Deputy Glendin, and swept the room with his startled glance.

"Where's Conklin ?" He was not there; only a red stain remained on the floor to show where he had lain.
"Where's Conklin ?" called Nash.
"I'm afraid," whispered Bard quickly to the girl, "that it was more than a game of suppose." He said easily to the other two: "He had enough.

His share of trouble came to-night; I let him go." "Young feller," growled Glendin, "you ain't been in town a long while, but I've heard a pile too much about you already.

What you mean by takin' the law into your own hands ?" "Wait," said Nash, his keen eyes on the two, "I guess I understand." "Let's have it, then." Still the steady eyes of Nash passed from Sally Fortune to Bard and back again.
"This feller bein' a tenderfoot, he don't understand our ways; maybe he thinks the range is a bit freer than it is." "That's the trouble," answered Glendin, "he thinks too damned much." "And does quite a pile besides thinkin'," murmured Nash, but too low for the others to hear it.
He hesitated, and then, as if making up his mind by a great effort: "There ain't no use blamin' him; better let it drop, Glendin." "Nothin' else to do, Steve; but it's funny Sally let him do it." "It is," said Nash with emphasis, "but then women is pretty funny in lots of ways.