CHAPTER XXVII.
EVIDENCE When Gary Warden stepped off the east-bound train at Willets one evening in April--to be met by Singleton, who had been apprised of the day of his coming and who had been in town for two days waiting--there was an expectant smile on his face.
A change seemed to have come over the town.

The winter lethargy had been shaken off and Willets was a throb with life and activity.

There was a warm wind blowing, bearing the breath of the new sage; doors were open; many horses were hitched to the rails that fringed the walk in front of saloons and stores; and there was over it all an atmosphere that seemed to be vital, electric.
Warden drew Singleton over to a corner of the station platform, from where, between two buildings, they had a clear, unobstructed view of the street.
"Della Wharton didn't come ?" asked Singleton.
"No," laughed Warden; "she stayed over for a reception at the governor's mansion, tonight.

She'll be here tomorrow." He leaned close to Singleton, whispering: "Are Blondy and his men settled ?" "Settled!" Singleton laughed deeply.

"You might call it that.