"Not exactly," said Brooks, with his eyes fixed intently on the
stranger. "You are here to denounce a highwayman who is DEAD and escaped
justice. I am here to denounce one who is LIVING!--Stop! drop your hand;
it's no use. You thought you had to deal only with a woman to-night, and
your revolver isn't quite handy enough. There! down!--down! So! That'll
do."

"You can't prove it," said the man hoarsely.

"Fool! In your story to that woman you have given yourself away. There
were but two travelers attacked by the highwaymen. One was killed--I am
the other. Where do YOU come in? What witness can you be--except as
the highwayman that you are? Who is left to identify Wade but--his
accomplice!"

The man's suddenly whitened face made his unshaven beard seem to bristle
over his face like some wild animal's. "Well, ef you kalkilate to blow
me, you've got to blow Wade and his widder too. Jest you remember that,"
he said whiningly.

"I've thought of that," said Brooks coolly, "and I calculate that to
prevent it is worth about that hundred dollars you got from that
poor woman--and no more! Now, sit down at that table, and write as I
dictate."

The man looked at him in wonder, but obeyed.

"Write," said Brooks, "'I hereby certify that my accusations against the
late Pulaski Wade of Heavy Tree Hill are erroneous and groundless, and
the result of mistaken identity, especially in regard to any complicity