Bakla trotted in the wake of her mistress. She, too, was perturbed; but not on account of the spoiled dinner. Bakla shared the uneasiness of the departing guests over the unaccountable tardiness of the missing friend-the tall, black haired, grey-eyed young man who smiled much and spoke always in a soft and kindly voice. He had been coming here to Peter's Inn for many months, and though she did not know who he might be she was convinced that he was a very fine gentleman with a great deal of money and a large and generous heart. Many were the sighs that Bakla had heaved to the heroic figure of this guest of guests.

As Tillie and Bakla rushed into the bar-room the three young gentlemen were just slipping on their military capes as they crossed the sanded floor toward .the doorway at the opposite side of the room.

At the same moment the door swung open and a tall figure, booted and spurred, filled the doorway. The upper half of his face was hidden beneath a black mask. The three departing guests halted in the middle of the floor, and three hands flew to the hilts of three swords. The man at the doorway stepped within, disclosing another, equally as tall, directly behind him. At the sight of the face of the latter, Ivan gave voice to an exclamation of relief.

"Dimmie!" he cried. "It's Dimmie! Where have you been? We were just setting out to look for you, and who the devil have you with you?"

Dimmie stepped into the room and bowed low to his friends and the assembled guests, servants, and hosts of Peter's Inn.

"Permit me," he said, "to present my very good friend The Rider!"

A chorus of exclamations greeted the introduction. The roughs rose from their tables and pressed forward, as did the three guardsmen, Peter, Tillie, and Bakla.

"The Rider!" exclaimed Bakla, clasping her little hands together in an ecstacy of thrills.

"He held me up upon the road, Alexander," cried Dimmie. "I knew you would never believe me unless I brought proof, and so I persuaded my good friend to come along with me and assure you that it is indeed true that I have been waylaid by no less a person than the much talked of Rider. Eh, Sunshine, is it not true?" and the speaker turned toward his captive. A surly looking fellow who had been sitting alone at a far table now shouldered his way through the crowd about the two new comers. His evil, little eyes scanned the faces of them both; and it is a matter open to dispute as to which of the figures caused him the greater astonishment.

The Rider saw him and hung his head. Then he looked up, caught the other's eye, and surreptitiously touched the empty holster at his hip. The other raised his eyebrows in mingled surprise and understanding.

Ivan was also examining the two men. He noted that he of the mask was unarmed, while Dimmie carried a long, evil looking revolver half hidden behind him. Suddenly he burst into a loud laugh.

Alexander and Nicholas looked at him in surprise. The Rider glanced quickly over the faces of the assembled guests. Fully half were men of his own stamp with whom he was familiar in the vice haunts of the city; but only one, he of the small and evil eyes, knew that their city crony and The Rider were one and the same.

Suddenly the bandit snatched the mask from his face, revealing a countenance wherein intelligence and bestiality were oddly combined. The forehead was high and broad, the ears well set, but a trifle too small, the chin and mouth sensitive without weakness. The man's nose and eyes were the least prepossessing of his features. The former was slightly bulbous, while the latter were small and close-set.

At sight of The Rider's face a number of the rougher guests gave vent to expressions of astonished recognition, and exclamations of, "The Wolf," fell from the lips of several.

"Yes," said The Rider, "I am The Wolf, your old friend and comrade. Will you see me dragged off to prison by a handful of dandies-me, who could send the half of you to the halter if I chose?"

"That we'll not," growled one of the drinkers. "Come, comrades, pluck these fine chickens and throw them out to the dogs. We do not want them here. Peter's place belongs to us. What business have they here? Come!" and he stepped truculently forward toward him whom Ivan had addressed as' Dimmie.

Tillie, a large grilling fork in one huge, red hand, ran screaming toward the speaker.

"Pig!" she cried, "what would you do? Chase away the only guests who have brains enough to know what they are putting into their stomachs and purses long enough to pay for what they eat and drink and I'll have the rotten heart out of you!"

But the man was already beside Dimmie. One pawlike hand was clutching for the young man's shoulder.