Sudden Rides Again

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"It may be that I'm sending you to your death."

Ominous words, delivered in a quiet, even tone by one to whom the masking of emotion had become a habit. Short, stockily built, of middle age, attired in a suit of sober black, with a "boiled" shirt and neat cravat, there was little to distinguish him from the common herd. But looking into the shrewd grey eyes, one realized the sound judgment, courage, and determination which had placed him in authority. For this was Governor Bleke, of Arizona, a name respected, feared, or hated throughout that lawless land.

"Ain't tryin' to throw a scare into me, are yu, seh?"

The whimsical question evoked a flicker of a smile on the Governor's grave face; the speaker had not the appearance of one to be easily frightened. The long, wiry, narrow-hipped, wide-shouldered frame, clean-cut, tanned features, level, spaced, grey-blue eyes and firm jaw, all proclaimed that here was one with whom it would be unwise to trifle. Two guns, hanging low on his thighs, the holsters secured to his leathern chaps to ensure swift withdrawal, supplied a further warning. His range-rider's garb was plain and serviceable.

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