_At Stillwater_ The true story was, of course, known almost at once, but, since Ronicky Doone swore that he would tackle the first man who accused him of having shot down Bill Gregg, the talk was confined to whispers.

In the meantime Stillwater rejoiced in its possession of Ronicky Doone.
Beyond one limited section of the mountain desert he was not as yet known, but he had one of those personalities which are called electric.

Whatever he did seemed greater because he, Ronicky Doone, had done it.
Not that he had done a great many things as yet.

But there was a peculiar feeling in the air that Ronicky Doone was capable of great and strange performances.

Men older than he were willing to accept him as their leader; men younger than he idolized him.
Ronicky Doone, then, the admired of all beholders, is leaning in the doorway of Stillwater's second and best hotel.