A Man Four-Square

 BY WILLIAM MAC LEOD RAINE

 AUTHOR OF THE YUKON TRAIL, BUCKY O'CONNOR, STEVE YEAGER, WYOMING, ETC. 

 1919

Contents

PROLOGUE

 I. "CALL ME JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM" II. SHOOT-A-BUCK CAÑON III. RANSE ROUSH PAYS IV. PAULINE ROUBIDEAU SAYS "THANK YOU" V. NO FOUR-FLUSHER VI. BILLIE ASKS A QUESTION VII. ON THE TRAIL VIII. THE FIGHT IX. BILLIE STANDS PAT X. BUD PROCTOR LENDS A HAND XI. THE FUGITIVES XII. THE GOOD SAMARITAN XIII. A FRIENDLY ENEMY XIV. THE GUN-BARREL ROAD XV. LEE PLAYS A LEADING RÔLE XVI. THREE MODERN MUSKETEERS XVII. "PEG-LEG" WARREN XVIII. A STAMPEDE XIX. A TWO-GUN MAN XX. EXIT MYSTERIOUS PETE XXI. JIM RECEIVES AND DECLINES AN OFFER XXII. THE RUSTLERS' CAMP XXIII. MURDER FROM THE CHAPARRAL XXIV. JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM LEAVES A NOTE XXV. THE MAL-PAIS XXVI. A DUST-STORM XXVII. "A LUCKY GUY"XXVIII. SHERIFF PRINCE FUNCTIONS XXIX. "THEY CAN'T HANG ME IF I AIN'T THERE" XXX. POLLY HAS A PLAN XXXI. GOODHEART MAKES A PROMISE AND BREAKS IT XXXII. JIM TAKES A PRISONERXXXIII. THE ROUND-UP XXXIV. PRIMROSE PATHS

A Man Four-Square

Prologue

A girl sat on the mossy river-bank in the dappled, golden sunlight. Frowning eyes fixed on a sweeping eddy, she watched without seeing theracing current. Her slim, supple body, crouched and tense, wasmotionless, but her soul seethed tumultuously. In the bosom of her coarselinsey gown lay hidden a note. Through it destiny called her to thetragic hour of decision. 

The foliage of the young pawpaws stirred behind her. Furtively a pair ofblack eyes peered forth and searched the opposite bank of the stream, thethicket of rhododendrons above, the blooming laurels below. Verystealthily a handsome head pushed out through the leaves. 

"'Lindy, " a voice whispered. 

The girl gave a start, slowly turned her head. She looked at the owner ofthe voice from steady, deep-lidded eyes. The pulse in her brown throatbegan to beat. One might have guessed her with entire justice a sullenlass, untutored of life, passionate, and high-spirited, resentful of allrestraint. Hers was such beauty as lies in rich blood beneath darkcoloring, in dusky hair and eyes, in the soft, warm contours of youth. Already she was slenderly full, an elemental daughter of Eve, primitiveas one of her fur-clad ancestors. No forest fawn could have been moresensuous or innocent than she. 

Again the man's glance swept the landscape cautiously before he moved outfrom cover. In the country of the Clantons there was always an openseason on any one of his name. 

"What are you doin' here, Dave Roush?" the girl demanded. "Are youcrazy?"

"I'm here because you are, 'Lindy Clanton, " he answered promptly. "That'sa right good reason, ain't it?"

The pink splashed into her cheeks like spilled wine. 

"You'd better go. If dad saw you--"

He laughed hardily. "There'd be one less Roush--or one less Clanton, " hefinished for her. 

Dave Roush was a large, well-shouldered man, impressive in spite of hishomespun. If he carried himself with a swagger there was no lack ofboldness in him to back it. His long hair was straight and black andcoarse, a derivative from the Indian strain in his blood. 

"Git my note?" he asked. 

She nodded sullenly. 

'Lindy had met Dave Roush at a dance up on Lonesome where she had nobusiness to be. At the time she had been visiting a distant cousin in acove adjacent to that creek. Some craving for adventure, some instinct ofdefiance, had taken her to the frolic where she knew the Roush clan wouldbe in force. From the first sight of her Dave had wooed her with acareless bravado that piqued her pride and intrigued her interest. Thegirl's imagination translated in terms of romance his insolence andaudacity. Into her starved existence he brought color and emotion. 

Did she love him? 'Lindy was not sure. He moved her at times to furiousanger, and again to inarticulate longings she did not understand. Forthough she was heritor of a life full-blooded and undisciplined, everyfiber of her was clean and pure. There were hours when she hated him, glimpsed in him points of view that filled her with vague distrust. Butalways he attracted her tremendously. 

"You're goin' with me, gal, " he urged. 

Close to her hand was a little clump of forget-me-nots which had pushedthrough the moss. 'Lindy feigned to be busy picking the blossoms. 

"No, " she answered sulkily. 

"Yes. To-night--at eleven o'clock, 'Lindy, --under the big laurel. "

While she resented his assurance, it none the less coerced her. She didnot want a lover who groveled in the dust before her. She wanted one tosweep her from her feet, a young Lochinvar to compel her by the force ofhis personality. 

"I'll not be there, " she told him. 

"We'll git right across the river an' be married inside of an hour. "

"I tell you I'm not goin' with you. Quit pesterin' me. "

His devil-may-care laugh trod on the heels of her refusal. He guessedshrewdly that circumstances were driving her to him. The girl was full ofresentment at her father's harsh treatment of her. Her starved heartcraved love. She was daughter of that Clanton who led the feud againstthe Roush family and its adherents. Dave took his life in his hands everytime he crossed the river to meet her. Once he had swum the stream in thenight to keep an appointment. He knew that his wildness, his recklesscourage and contempt of danger, argued potently for him. She was comingto him as reluctantly and surely as a wild turkey answers the call of thehunter. 

The sound of a shot, not distant, startled them. He crouched, wary as arattlesnake about to strike. The rifle seemed almost to leap forward. 

"Hit's Bud--my brother Jimmie. " She pushed him back toward the pawpaws. "Quick! Burn the wind!"

"What about to-night? Will you come?"

"Hurry. I tell you hit's Bud. Are you lookin' for trouble?"

He stopped stubbornly at the edge of the thicket. "I ain't runnin' awayfrom it. I put a question to ye. When I git my answer mebbe I'll go. ButI don't 'low to leave till then. "

"I'll meet ye there if I kin git out. Now go, " she begged. 

The man vanished in the pawpaws. He moved as silently as one of hisIndian ancestors. 

'Lindy waited, breathless lest her brother should catch sight of him. Sheknew that if Jimmie saw Roush there would be shooting and one or theother would fall. 

A rifle shot rang out scarce a hundred yards from her. The heart of thegirl stood still. After what seemed an interminable time there came toher the sound of a care-free whistle. Presently her brother saunteredinto view, a dead squirrel in his hand. The tails of several othersbulged from the game bag by his side. The sister did not need to be toldthat four out of five had been shot through the head. 

"Thought I heard voices. Was some one with you, sis?" the boy asked. 

"Who'd be with me here?" she countered lazily. 

A second time she was finding refuge in the for-get-me-nots. 

He was a barefoot little fellow, slim and hard as a nail. In his hand hecarried an old-fashioned rifle almost as long as himself. There was alingering look of childishness in his tanned, boyish face. His hands andfeet were small and shapely as those of a girl. About him hung the stolidimperturbability of the Southern mountaineer. Times were when his blueeyes melted to tenderness or mirth; yet again the cunning of the junglenarrowed them to slits hard, as jade. Already, at the age of fourteen, hehad been shot at from ambush, had wounded a Roush at long range, hadtaken part in a pitched battle. The law of the feud was tempering hisheart to implacability. 

The keen gaze of the boy rested on her. Ever since word had reached theClantons of how 'Lindy had "carried on" with Dave Roush at the dance onLonesome her people had watched her suspiciously. The thing she had donehad been a violation of the hill code and old Clay Clanton had thrashedher with a cowhide till she begged for mercy. Jimmie had come home fromthe still to find her writhing in passionate revolt. The boy had beenfurious at his father; yet had admitted the substantial justice of thepunishment. Its wisdom he doubted. For he knew his sister to be stubbornas old Clay himself, and he feared lest they drive her to the arms of BadDave Roush. 

"I reckon you was talkin' to yo'self, mebbe, " he suggested. 

"I reckon. "

They walked home together along a path through the rhododendrons. Thelong, slender legs of the girl moved rhythmically and her arms swung likependulums. Life in the open had given her the litheness and the grace ofa woodland creature. The mountain woman is cheated of her youth almostbefore she has learned to enjoy it. But 'Lindy was still under eighteen. Her warm vitality still denied the coming of a day when she would be asallow, angular snuff-chewer. 

Within sight of the log cabin the girl lingered for a moment by thesassafras bushes near the spring. Some deep craving for sympathy movedher to alien speech. She turned upon him with an imperious, fiercetenderness in her eyes. 

"You'll never forgit me, Bud? No matter what happens, you'll--you'll nothate me?"

Her unusual emotion embarrassed and a little alarmed him. "Oh, shucks!They ain't anything goin' to happen, sis. What's ailin' you?"

"But if anything does. You'll not hate me--you'll remember I allusthought a heap of you, Jimmie?" she insisted. 

"Doggone it, if you're still thinkin' of that scalawag Dave Roush--" Hebroke off, moved by some touch of prescient tragedy in her young face. "'Course I ain't ever a-goin' to forgit you none, sis. Hit ain't likely, is it?"

It was a comfort to him afterward to recall that he submitted to herimpulsive caress without any visible irritability. 

'Lindy busied herself preparing supper for her father and brother. Eversince her mother died when the child was eleven she had been the familyhousekeeper. 

At dusk Clay Clanton came in and stood his rifle in a corner of the room. His daughter recognized ill-humor in the grim eyes of the old man. He wasof a tall, gaunt figure, strongly built, a notable fighter with his fistsin the brawling days before he "got religion" at a camp meeting. Now hisCalvinism was of the sternest. Dancing he held to be of the devil. Card-playing was a sin. If he still drank freely, his drinking was withinbounds. But he did not let his piety interfere with the feud. Within theyear, pillar of the church though he was, he had been carried homeriddled with bullets. Of the four men who had waylaid him two had beenburied next day and a third had kept his bed for months. 

He ate for a time in dour silence before he turned harshly on 'Lindy. 

"You ain't havin' no truck with Dave Roush are you? Not meetin' up withhim on the sly?" he demanded, his deep-set eyes full of menace under theheavy, grizzled brows. 

"No, I ain't, " retorted the girl, and her voice was sullen and defiant. 

"See you don't, lessen yo' want me to tickle yore back with the budagain. I don't allow to put up with no foolishness. " He turned inexplanation to the boy. "Brad Nickson seen him this side of the riverto-day. He says this ain't the fustest time Roush has been seen hangin''round the cove. "

The boy's wooden face betrayed nothing. He did not look at his sister. But suspicions began to troop through his mind. He thought again of thevoices he had heard by the river and he remembered that it had become ahabit of the girl to disappear for hours in the afternoon. 

'Lindy went to her room early. She nursed against her father not onlyresentment, but a strong feeling of injustice. He would not let herattend the frolics of the neighborhood because of his scruples againstdancing. Yet she had heard him tell how he used to dance till daybreakwhen he was a young man. What right had he to cut her off from the thingsthat made life tolerable?

She was the heritor of lawless, self-willed, passionate ancestors. Theirturbulent blood beat in her veins. All the safeguards that should havehedged her were gone. A wise mother, an understanding father, could havesaved her from the tragedy waiting to engulf her. But she had neither ofthese. Instead, her father's inhibitions pushed her toward that doom towhich she was moving blindfold. 

Before her cracked mirror the girl dressed herself bravely in her cheapbest. She had no joy in the thing she was going to do. Of her love shewas not sure and of her lover very unsure. A bell of warning rang faintlyin her heart as she waited for the hours to slip away. 

A very little would have turned the tide. But she nursed her angeragainst her father, fed her resentment with the memory of all his wrongsto her. When at last she crept through the window to the dark porchtrellised with wild cucumbers, she persuaded herself that she was goingonly to tell Dave Roush that she would not join him. 

Her heart beat fast with excitement and dread. Poor, undisciplineddaughter of the hills though she was, a rumor of the future whispered inher ears and weighted her bosom. 

Quietly she stole past the sassafras brake to the big laurel. Her lovertook her instantly into his arms and kissed the soft mouth again andagain. She tried to put him from her, to protest that she was not goingwith him. But before his ardor her resolution melted. As always, when hewas with her, his influence was paramount. 

"The boat is under that clump of bushes, " he whispered. 

"Oh, Dave, I'm not goin', " she murmured. 

"Then I'll go straight to the house an' have it out with the old man, " heanswered. 

His voice rang gay with the triumph of victory. He did not intend to lether hesitations rob him of it. 

"Some other night, " she promised. "Not now--I don't want to go now. I--I'm not ready. "

"There's no time like to-night, honey. My brother came with me in theboat. We've got horses waitin'--an' the preacher came ten miles to do thejob. "

Then, with the wisdom born of many flirtations, he dropped argument andwooed her ardently. The anchors that held the girl to safety dragged. Thetug of sex, her desire of love and ignorance of life, his eager andpassionate demand that she trust him: all these swelled the tide thatbeat against her prudence. 

She caught his coat lapels tightly in her clenched fists. 

"If I go I'll be givin' up everything in the world for you, DaveRoush. My folks'll hate me. They'd never speak to me again. You'llbe good to me. You won't cast it up to me that I ran away with you. You'll--you'll--" Her voice broke and she gulped down a little sob. 

He laughed. She could not see his face in the darkness, but the sound ofhis laughter was not reassuring. He should have met her appeal seriously. 

The girl drew back. 

He sensed at once his mistake. "Good to you!" he cried. "'Lindy, I'ma-goin' to be the best ever. "

"I ain't got any mother, Dave. " Again she choked in her throat. "Youwouldn't take advantage of me, would you?"

He protested hotly. Desiring only to be convinced, 'Lindy took one lastprecaution. 

"Swear you'll do right by me always. "

He swore it. 

She put her hand in his and he led her to the boat. 

Ranse Roush was at the oars. Before he had taken a dozen strokes a waveof terror swept over her. She was leaving behind forever that quiet, sunny cove where she had been brought up. The girl began to shiveragainst the arm of her lover. She heard again the sound of his low, triumphant laughter. 

It was too late to turn back now. No hysterical request to be put back onher side of the river would move these men. Instinctively she knew that. From to-night she was to be a Roush. 

They found horses tied to saplings in a small cove close to the river. The party mounted and rode into the hills. Except for the ring of thehorses' hoofs there was no sound for miles. 'Lindy was the first tospeak. 

"Ain't this Quicksand Creek?" she asked of her lover as they forded astream. 

He nodded. "The sands are right below us--not more'n seven or eight stepsdown here Cal Henson was sucked under. "

After another stretch ridden in silence they turned up a little cove to alight shining in a cabin window. The brothers alighted and Dave helpedthe girl down. He pushed open the door and led the way inside. 

A man sat by the fireside with his feet on the table. He was reading anewspaper. A jug of whiskey and a glass were within reach of his hand. Without troubling to remove his boots from the table, he looked up with aleer at the trembling girl. 

Dave spoke at once. "We'll git it over with. The sooner the quicker. "

'Lindy's heart was drenched with dread. She shrank from the three pairsof eyes focused upon her as if they had belonged to wolves. She had hopedthat the preacher might prove a benevolent old man, but this man with theheavy thatch of unkempt, red hair and furtive eyes set askew offered nocomfort. If there had been a single friend of her family present, ifthere had been any woman at all! If she could even be sure of the man shewas about to marry!

It seemed to her that the preacher was sneering when he put the questionsto which she answered quaveringly. Vaguely she felt the presence of somecruel, sinister jest of which she was the sport. 

After the ceremony had been finished the three men drank together whileshe sat white-faced before the fire. When at last Ranse Roush and thered-headed preacher left the cabin, both of them were under the influenceof liquor. Dave had drunk freely himself. 

'Lindy would have given her hopes of heaven to be back safely in thelittle mud-daubed bedroom she had called her own. 

Three days later 'Lindy wakened to find a broad ribbon of sunshine acrossthe floor of the cabin. Her husband had not come home at all the nightbefore. She shivered with self-pity and dressed slowly. Already she knewthat her life had gone to wreck, that it would be impossible to live withDave Roush and hold her self-respect. 

But she had cut herself off from retreat. All of her friends belonged tothe Clanton faction and they would not want to have anything to do withher. She had no home now but this, no refuge against the neglect andinsults of this man with whom she had elected to go through life. To hermind came the verdict of old Nance Cunningham on the imprudent marriageof another girl: "Randy's done made her bed; I reckon she's got to lieon it. "

A voice hailed the cabin from outside. She went to the door. Ranse Roushand the red-haired preacher had ridden into the clearing and weredismounting. They had with them a led horse. 

"Fix up some breakfast, " ordered Ranse. 

The young wife flushed. She resented his tone and his manner. Like Dave, he too assumed that she had come to be a drudge for the whole drunkenclan, a creature to be sneered at and despised. 

Silently she cooked a meal for the men. The girl was past tears. She hadwept herself out. 

While they ate the men told of her father's fury when he had discoveredthe elopement, of how he had gone down to the mill and cast her off witha father's curse, renouncing all relationship with her forever. It was ajest that held for them a great savor. They made sport of him and of theother Clantons till she could keep still no longer. 

"I won't stand this! I don't have to! Where's Dave?" she demanded, eyesflashing with contempt and anger. 

Ranse grinned, then turned to his companion with simulated perplexity. "Where is Dave, Brother Hugh?"

"Damfino, " replied the red-headed man, and the girl could see that he wasgloating over her. "Last night he was at a dance on God Forgotten Crick. Dave's soft on a widow up there, you know. "

The color ebbed from the face of the wife. One of her hands clutched atthe back of a chair till the knuckles stood out white and bloodless. Hereyes fastened with a growing horror upon those of the red-headed man. Shehad come to the edge of an awful discovery. 

"You're no preacher. Who are you?"

"Me?" His smile was cruel as death. "You done guessed it, sister. I'mHugh Roush--Dave's brother. "

"An'--an'--my marriage was all a lie?"

"Did ye think Dave Roush would marry a Clanton? He's a bad lot, Dave is, but he ain't come that low yet. "

For the first and last time in her life 'Lindy fainted. 

Presently she floated back to consciousness and the despair of a soulmortally stricken. She saw it all now. The lies of Dave Roush had enticedher into a trap. He had been working for revenge against the family hehated, especially against brave old Clay Clanton who had killed two ofhis kin within the year. With the craft inherited from savage ancestorshe had sent a wound more deadly than any rifle bullet could carry. TheClantons were proud folks, and he had dragged their pride in the mud. 

If the two brothers expected her to make a scene, they were disappointed. Numb with the shock of the blow, she made no outcry and no reproach. 

"Git a move on ye, gal, " ordered Ranse after he had finished eating. "You're goin' with us, so you better hurry. "

"What are you goin' to do with me?" she asked dully. 

"Why, Dave don't want you any more. We're goin' to send you home. "

"I reckon yore folks will kill the fatted calf for you, " jeered HughRoush. "They tell me you always been mighty high-heeled, 'Lindy Clanton. Mebbe you won't hold yore head so high now. "

The girl rode between them down from the hills. Who knows into what anagony of fear and remorse and black despair she fell? She could not gohome a cast-off, a soiled creature to be scorned and pointed at. Shedared not meet her father. It would be impossible to look her littlebrother Jimmie in the face. Would they believe the story she told? And ifthey were convinced of its truth, what difference would that make? Shewas what she was, no matter how she had become so. 

On the pike they met old Nance Cunningham returning from the mill with asack of meal. The story of that meeting was one the old gossip told afterthe tragedy to many an eager circle of listeners, "She jes' lifted her han' an' stopped me, an' if death was ever writ on ahuman face it shorely wuz stomped on hers. 'I want you to tell my fatherI'm sorry, ' she sez. 'He swore he'd marry me inside of an hour. This manhyer--his brother--made out like he wuz a preacher an' married us. Tellmy father that an' ask him to forgive me if he can. ' That wuz all shesaid. Ranse Roush hit her horse with a switch an' sez, 'Yo' kin tell himall that yore own self soon as you git home. ' I reckon I wuz the lastestperson she spoke to alive. "

They left the old woman staring after them with her mouth open. It couldhave been only a few minutes later that they reached Quicksand Creek. 

'Lindy pulled up her horse to let the men precede her through the ford. They splashed into the shallows on the other side of the creek and waitedfor her to join them. Instead, she slipped from the saddle, ran down thebank, and plunged into the quicksand. 

"Goddlemighty!" shrieked Ranse. "She's a-drowndin' herself in the sands. "

They spurred their horses back across the creek and ran to rescue thegirl. But she had flung herself forward face down far out of their reach. They dared not venture into the quivering bog after her. While they stillstared in a frozen horror, the tragedy was completed. The victim of theirrevenge had disappeared beneath the surface of the morass. 

Chapter I

"Call Me Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em"

The boy had spent the night at a water-hole in a little draw near thefoot of the mesa. He had supped on cold rations and slept in his blanketwithout the comfort of glowing piñon knots. For yesterday he had cutIndian signs and after dark had seen the shadow of Apache camp-firesreflected in the clouds. 

After eating he swung to the bare back of his pony and climbed to thesummit of the butte. His trained eyes searched the plains. A big bunch ofantelope was trailing down to water almost within rifle-shot. But he wasnot looking for game. 

He sniffed the smoke from the pits where the renegades were roastingmescal and judged the distance to the Apache camp at close to ten miles. His gaze swept toward the sunrise horizon and rested upon a cloud ofdust. That probably meant a big herd of cattle crossing to the PecosValley on the Chisum Trail that led to Fort Stanton. The riders werelikely just throwing the beeves from the bed-ground to the trail. The boywaited to make sure of their line of travel. 

Presently he spoke aloud, after the fashion of the plainsman who spendsmuch time alone in the saddle. "Looks like they'll throw off to-nightclose to the 'Pache camp. If they do hell's a-goin' to pop just beforesunup to-morrow. I reckon I'll ride over and warn the outfit. "

From a trapper the boy had learned that a band of Mescalero Apaches hadleft the reservation three weeks before, crossed into Mexico, goneplundering down the Pecos, and was now heading back toward the StakedPlains. Evidently the drover did not know this, since he was moving hiscattle directly toward the Indian camp. 

The young fellow let his cowpony pick its way down the steep shale hillto the draw. He saddled without a waste motion, packed his suppliesdeftly, mounted, and was off. In the way he cut across the desert towardthe moving herd was the certainty of the frontiersman. He did not hurry, but he wasted no time. His horse circled in and out among the sand dunes, now topped a hill, now followed a wash. Every foot of the devious trailwas the most economical possible. 

At the end of nearly an hour's travel he pulled up, threw down his bridlereins, and studied the ground carefully. He had cut Indian sign. What hesaw would have escaped the notice of a tenderfoot, and if it had beenpointed out to him none but an expert trailer would have understood itssignificance. Yet certain facts were printed here on the desert for thisboy as plainly as if they had been stenciled on a guide-post. He knewthat within forty-eight hours a band of about twenty Mescalero bucks hadreturned to camp this way from an antelope hunt and that they carriedwith them half a dozen pronghorns. It was a safe guess that they werepart of the large camp the smoke of which he had seen. 

Long before the young man struck the drive, he knew he was close by thecloud of dust and the bawling of the cattle. His course across countryhad been so accurate that he hit the herd at the point withoutdeflecting. 

An old Texan drew up, changed his weight on the saddle to rest himself, and hailed the youngster. 

"Goin' somewheres, kid, or just ridin'?" he asked genially. 

"Just takin' my hawss out for a jaunt so's he won't get hog-fat, " grinnedthe boy. 

The Texan chewed tobacco placidly and eyed the cowpony. The horse hadbeen ridden so far that he was a bag of bones. 

"Looks some gaunted, " he commented. 

"Four Bits is so thin he won't throw a shadow, " admitted the boy. 

"Come a right smart distance, I reckon?"

"You done said it. "

"Where you headin' for?"

"For Deaf Smith County. I got an uncle there. Saw your dust an' droppedover to tell you that a big bunch of 'Paches are camped just ahead ofyou. "

The older man looked at him keenly. "How do you know, son?"

"Smelt their smoke an' cut their trail. "

"Know Injuns, do you?"

"I trailed with Al Sieber 'most two years. "

To have served with Sieber for any length of time was a certificate ofefficiency. He was the ablest scout in the United States Army. Throughhis skill and energy Geronimo and his war braves were later forced togive themselves up to the troops. 

"'Nuff said. Are these 'Paches liable to make us any trouble?"

"Yes, sir. I think they are. They're a bunch of broncos from thereservation an' they have been across the line stealin' horses an'murderin' settlers. They will sure try to stampede your cattle an' runoff a lot of 'em. "

"Hmp! You better go back an' see old man Webb about it. What's yore name, kid?"

For just an eye-beat the boy hesitated. "Call me Jim Thursday. "

A glimmer of a smile rested in the eyes of the Texan. He was willing tobet that this young fellow would not have given him that name if to-dayhad not happened to be the fifth day of the week. But it was all one tothe cowpuncher. To question a man too closely about his former residenceand manner of life was not good form on the frontier. 

"I'll call you Jim from Sunday to Saturday, " he said, pulling a tobaccopouch from his hip pocket. "My name is Wrayburn--Dad Wrayburn, the boyscall me. "

The Texan shouted to the man riding second on the swing. "Oh, you, BilliePrince!"

A tanned, good-looking young fellow cantered up. 

"Meet Jimmie Thursday, Billie, " the old-timer said by way ofintroduction. "This boy says there's heap many Injuns on the war-pathright ahead of us. I reckon I'll let you take the point while I rideback with him an' put it up to the old man. "

The "old man" turned out to be a short, heavy-set Missourian who hadserved in the Union Army and won a commission by intelligence andcourage. Wherever the name of Homer Webb was known it stood for integrityand square-dealing. His word was as good as a signed bond. 

Webb had come out of the war without a cent, but with a very definitepurpose. During the last year of the Confederacy, while it was totteringto its fall, he had served in Texas. The cattle on the range had foryears been running wild, the owners and herdsmen being absent with theSouthern army. They had multiplied prodigiously, so that many thousandsof mavericks roamed without brand, the property of any one who wouldround them up and put an iron on their flanks. The money value of themwas very little. A standard price for a yearling was a plug of tobacco. But Webb looked to the future. He hired two riders, gathered together asmall remuda of culls, and went into the cattle business with energy. To-day the Flying V Y was stamped on forty thousand longhorns. 

The foreman of the Flying V Y was riding with the owner of the brand atthe drag end of the herd. He was a hard-faced citizen known as JoeYankie. When Wrayburn had finished his story, the foreman showed a row oftobacco-stained teeth in an unpleasant grin. 

"Same old stuff, Dad. There always is a bunch of bucks off thereservation an' they're always just goin' to run our cattle away. If youask me there's nothin' to it. "

Young Thursday flushed. "If you'll ride out with me I'll show you theirtrail. "

Yankie looked at him with a sneer. He guessed this boy to be abouteighteen. There was a suggestion of effeminacy about the lad's small, well-shaped hands and feet. He was a slender, smooth-faced youth withmild blue eyes. It occurred to Webb, too, that the stranger might haveimagined the Apaches. But in his motions was something of the lithe graceof the puma. It was part of the business of the cattleman to judge menand he was not convinced that this young fellow was as inoffensive as helooked. 

"Where you from?" asked the drover. 

"From the San Carlos Agency. "

"Ever meet a man named Micky Free out there?"

"I've slept under the same tarp with him many's the time when we werefollowin' Chiricahua 'Paches. He's the biggest dare-devil that everforked a horse. "

"Describe him. "

"Micky's face is a map of Ireland. He's got only one eye; a buck punchedthe other out when he was a kid. His hair is red an' he wears it long. "

"Any beard?"

"A bristly little red mustache. "

"That's Micky to a T. " Webb made up his mind swiftly. "The boy's allright, Yankie. He'll do to take along. "

"It's your outfit. Suits me if he does you. " The foreman turnedinsolently to the newcomer. "What'd you say your name was, sissie?"

The eyes of the boy, behind narrowed lids, grew hard as steel. 

"Call me Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em, " he drawled in a soft voice, every syllabledistinct. 

There was a moment of chill silence. A swift surprise had flared into theeyes of the foreman. The last thing in the world he had expected was tohave his bad temper resented so promptly by this smooth-faced littlechap. Since Yankie was the camp bully he bristled up to protect hisreputation. 

"Better not get on the prod with me, young fellow me lad. I'm liable tomuss up your hair. Me, I'm from the Strip, where folks grow man-size. "

The youngster smiled, but there was no mirth in that thin-lipped smile. He knew, as all men did, that the Cherokee Strip was the home ofdesperadoes and man-killers. The refuse of the country, driven out by thelaw of more settled communities, found here a refuge from punishment. Butif the announcement of the foreman impressed him, he gave no sign of it. 

"Why didn't you stay there?" he asked with bland innocence. 

Yankie grew apoplectic. He did not care to discuss the reasons why hehad first gone to the Strip or the reasons why he had come away. Thisgirl-faced boy was the only person who had asked for a bill ofparticulars. Moreover, the foreman did not know whether the question hadbeen put in child-like ignorance of any possible offense or with animpudent purpose to enrage him. 

"Don't run on the rope when I'm holdin' it, kid, " he advised roughly. "You're liable to get thrown hard. "

"And then again I'm liable not to, " lisped the youth from Arizona gently. 

The bully looked the slim newcomer over again, and as he looked thererang inside him some tocsin of warning. Thursday sat crouched in thesaddle, wary as a rattlesnake ready to strike. A sawed-off shotgun layunder his leg within reach of his hand, the butt of a six-gun was evencloser to those smooth, girlish fingers. In the immobility of his figureand the steadiness of the blue eyes was a deadly menace. 

Yankie was no coward. He would go through if he had to. But there wasstill time to draw back if he chose. He was not exactly afraid; on theother hand, he did not feel at all easy. 

He contrived a casual, careless laugh. "All right, kid. I don't have torob the cradle to fill my private graveyard. Go get your Injuns. It willbe all right with me. "

Webb drew a breath of relief. There was to be no gunplay after all. Hehad had his own reasons for not interfering sooner, but he knew that thesituation had just grazed red tragedy. 

"I'm goin' to take the boy's advice, " he announced to Yankie. "Rideforward an' swing the herd toward that big red butte. We'll give ourMescalero friends a wide berth if we can. "

The foreman hung in the saddle a moment before he turned to go. He had tosave his face from a public back-down, "Bet you a week's pay there'snothin' to it, Webb. "

"Hope you're right, Joe, " his employer answered. 

As soon as Yankie had cantered away, Dad Wrayburn, ex-Confederatetrooper, slapped his hand on his thigh and let out a modulated rebelyell. 

"Dad burn my hide, Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em, you're all right. Fustest time Iever saw Joe take water, but he shorely did splash some this hereoccasion. I wouldn't 'a' missed it for a bunch of hog-fat yearlin's. "

Webb had not been sorry to see his arrogant foreman brought up with asharp turn, but in the interest of discipline he did not care to say so. 

"Why can't you boys get along peaceable with Joe, I'd like to know? Thissnortin' an' pawin' up the ground don't get you anything. "

"I reckon Joe does most of the snortin' that's done, " Wrayburn answereddryly. "I ain't had any trouble with him, because he spends a heap oftime lettin' me alone. But there's no manner of doubt that Joe rides theboys too hard. "

The drover dismissed the subject and turned to Thursday. 

"Want a job?"

"Mebbe so. "

"I need another man. Since you sabe the ways of the 'Paches I can use youto scout ahead for us. "

"What you payin'?"

"Fifty a month. "

"You've hired a hand. "

"Good enough. Better pick one of the boys to ride with you while you areout scoutin'. "

"I'll take Billie Prince, " decided the new rider at once. 

"You know Billie?"

"Never saw him before to-day. But I like his looks. He's a man to tieto. "

"You're right he is. "

The drover looked at his new employee with a question in his shrewd eyes. The boy was either a man out of a thousand or he was a first-classbluffer. He claimed to have cut Indian sign and to know exactly what waswritten there. At a single glance he had sized up Prince and knew himfor a reliable side partner. Without any bluster he had served notice onYankie that it would be dangerous to pick on him as the butt of hisill-temper. 

In those days, on the Pecos, law lay in a holster on a man's thigh. Theindividual was a force only so far as his personality impressed itselfupon his fellows. If he made claims he must be prepared to back them to afighting finish. 

Was this young Thursday a false alarm? Or was he a good man to let alonewhen one was looking for trouble? Webb could not be sure yet, though hemade a shrewd guess. But he knew it would not he long before he foundout. 

Chapter II

Shoot-a-Buck Cañon

Webb sent for Billie Prince. 

"Seems there's a bunch of bronco 'Paches camped ahead of us, Billie. Thursday here trailed with Sieber. I want you an' him to scout in frontof us an' see we don't run into any ambush. You're under his orders, y'understand. "

Prince was a man of few words. He nodded. 

"You know the horses that the boys claim. Well, take Thursday to theremuda an' help him pick a mount from the extras in place of thatbroomtail he's ridin', " continued the drover. "Look alive now. I don'twant my cattle stampeded because we haven't got sense enough to protect'em. No 'Paches can touch a hoof of my stock if I can help it. "

"If they attack at all it will probably be just before daybreak, but itis just as well to be ready for 'em, " suggested Thursday. 

"I brought along some old Sharps an' some Spencers. I reckon I'll have'em loaded an' distribute 'em among the boys. Billie, tell Yankie to havethat done. The rifles are racked up in the calf wagon. "

Billie delivered the orders of the drover to the foreman as they passedon their way to the remuda. Joe gave a snort of derision, but let it goat that. When Homer Webb was with one of his trail outfits he was alwaysits boss. 

While Thursday watched him, Prince roped out a cinnamon horse from theremuda. The cowpuncher was a long-bodied man, smooth-muscled and lithe. The boy had liked his level eye and his clean, brown jaw before, just asnow he approved the swift economy of his motions. 

Probably Billie was about twenty years of age, but in that countrymen ripened young. Both of these lads had been brought up in thatrough-and-ready school of life which holds open session every day of theyear. Both had already given proofs of their ability to look out forthemselves in emergency. A wise, cool head rested on each of these pairsof young shoulders. In this connection it is worth mentioning that theWest's most famous outlaw, Billie the Kid, a killer with twenty-onenotches on his gun, had just reached his majority when he met his deathsome years later at the hands of Pat Garrett. 

The new rider for the Flying V Y outfit did not accept the judgment ofPrince without confirming it. He examined the hoofs of the horse and feltits legs carefully. He looked well to its ears to make sure that ticksfrom the mesquite had not infected the silky inner flesh. 

"A good bronc, looks like, " he commented. 

"One of the fastest in the remuda--not very gentle, though. "

Thursday picked the witches' bridles from its mane before he saddled. Ashis foot found the stirrup the cinnamon rose into the air, humped itsback, and came down with all four legs stiff. The quirt burned its flank, and the animal went up again to whirl round in the air. The boy stuck tothe saddle and let out a joyous whoop. The battle was on. 

Suddenly as it had begun the contest ended. With the unreasoning impulseof the half-broken cowpony the cinnamon subsided to gentle obedience. 

The two riders cantered across the prairie in the direction of the Indiancamp. That the Apaches were still there Thursday thought altogetherlikely, for he knew that it takes a week to make mescal. No doubt theraiders had stopped to hold a jamboree over the success of theiroutbreak. 

The scouts from the cattle herd deflected toward a butte that pushed outas a salient into the plain. From its crest they could get a sweepingview of the valley. 

"There's a gulch back of it that leads to old man Roubideau's place, "explained Prince. "Last time we were on this Pecos drive the boss stoppedan' bought a bunch of three-year-olds from him. He's got a daughterthat's sure a pippin, old man Roubideau has. Shoot, ride, rope--thatgirl's got a lot of these alleged bullwhackers beat a mile at any one of'em. "

Thursday did not answer. He had left the saddle and was examining theground carefully. Billie joined him. In the soft sand of the wash weretracks of horses' hoofs. Patiently the trailer followed them foot by footto the point where they left the dry creek-bed and swung up the brokenbank to a swale. 

"Probably Roubideau and his son Jean after strays, " suggested Prince. 

"No. Notice this track here, how it's broken off at the edge. When I cutIndian sign yesterday, this was one of those I saw. "

"Then these are 'Paches too?"

"Yes. "

"Goin' to the Roubideau place. " The voice of Billie was low and husky. His brown young face had been stricken gray. Bleak fear lay in the grayeyes. His companion knew he was thinking of the girl. "How many of 'em doyou make out?"

"Six or seven. Not sure which. "

"How old?"

"They passed here not an hour since. "

It was as if a light of hope had been lit in the face of the young man. "Mebbe there's time to help yet. Kid, I'm goin' in. "

Jim Thursday made no reply, unless it was one to vault to the saddle andput his horse to the gallop. They rode side by side, silently andalertly, rifles across the saddle-horns in their hands. The boy fromArizona looked at his new friend with an increase of respect. This was, of course, a piece of magnificent folly. What could two boys do againsthalf a dozen wily savages? But it was the sort of madness that he loved. His soul went out in a gush of warm, boyish admiration to Billie Prince. It was the beginning of a friendship that was to endure, in spite ofrivalry and division and misunderstanding, through many turbid years oftrouble. This was no affair of theirs. Webb had sent them out to protectthe cattle drive. They were neglecting his business for the sake of anadventure that might very well mean the death of both of them. But it wascharacteristic of Thursday that it never even occurred to him to letPrince take the chance alone. Even in the days to come, when his name wasanathema in the land, nobody ever charged that he would not go throughwith a comrade. 

There drifted to them presently the faint sound of a shot. It wasfollowed by a second and a third. 

"The fight's on, " cried Thursday. 

Billie's quirt stung the flank of his pony. Near the entrance to thecañon his companion caught up with him. From the rock walls of the gulchcame to them booming echoes of rifles in action. 

"Roubideau must be standin' 'em off, " shouted Prince. 

"Can we take the 'Paches by surprise? Is there any other way into thecañon?"

"Don't know. Can't stop to find out. I'm goin' straight up the road. "

The younger man offered no protest. It might well be that the ranchmanwas in desperate case and in need of immediate help to save his family. Anyhow, the decision was out of his hands. 

The horses pounded forward and swept round a curve of the gulch intosight of the ranch. In a semicircle, crouched behind the shelter ofboulders and cottonwoods, the Indian line stretched across the gorge andalong one wall. The buildings lay in a little valley, where an arroyo randown at a right angle and broke the rock escarpment. A spurt of smokecame from a window of the stable as the rescuers galloped into view. 

One of the Apaches caught sight of them and gave a guttural shout ofwarning. His gun jumped to the shoulder and simultaneously the bullet wason its way. But no living man could throw a shot quicker than JimThursday, if the stories still told of him around camp-fires are true. Now he did not wait to take sight, but fired from his hip. The Indianrose, half-turned, and fell forward across the boulder, his naked bodyshining in the sun. By a hundredth part of a second the white boy hadout-speeded him. 

The riders flung themselves from their horses and ran for cover. 

The very audacity of their attack had its effect. The Indians guessedthese two were the advance guard of a larger party which had caught themin a trap. Between two fires, with one line of retreat cut off, thebronco Apaches wasted no time in deliberation. They made a rush for theirhorses, mounted, and flew headlong toward the arroyo, their bodies lyinglow on the backs of the ponies. 

The Indians rode superbly, their bare, sinewy legs gripping even to themoccasined feet the sides of the ponies. Without saddle or bridle, exceptfor the simple nose rope, they guided their mounts surely, the brownbodies rising and falling in perfect accord with the motion of thehorses. 

A shot from the stable hit one as he galloped past. While his horse wassplashing through the creek the Mescalero slid slowly down, head first, into the brawling water. 

Billie took a long, steady aim and fired. A horse stumbled and went down, flinging the rider over its head. With a "Yip--Yip!" of triumph Thursdaydrew a bead on the man as he rose and dodged forward. Just as the boyfired a sharp pain stung his foot. One of the escaping natives hadwounded him. 

The dismounted man ran forward a few steps and pulled himself to the backof a pony already carrying one rider. Something in the man's gait andcostume struck Prince. 

"That fellow's no Injun, " he called to his friend. 

"Look!" Thursday was pointing to the saddle-back between two peaks at thehead of the arroyo. 

A girl on horseback had just come over the summit and stood silhouettedagainst the sky. Even in that moment while they watched her she realizedfor the first time her danger. She turned to fly, and she and her horsedisappeared down the opposite slope. The Mescaleros swept up the hilltoward her. 

"They'll git her! They'll sure git her!" cried Billie, making for hishorse. 

The younger man ran limping to his cinnamon. At every step he winced, andagain while his weight rested on the wounded foot as he dragged himselfto the saddle. A dozen yards behind his companion he sent his horsesplashing through the creek. 

The cowponies, used to the heavy going in the hills, took the slope inshort, quick plunges. Neither of the young men used the spur, for thechase might develop into a long one with stamina the deciding factor. Themesquite was heavy and the hill steep, but presently they struck a cattlerun which led to the divide. 

Two of the Apaches stopped at the summit for a shot at their pursuers, but neither of the young men wasted powder in answer. They knew thatclose-range work would prove far more deadly and that only a chance hitcould serve them now. 

From Billie, who had reached the crest first, came a cry of dismay. Hispartner, a moment later, knew the reason for it. One of the Apaches, racing across the valley below, was almost at the heels of the girl. 

The cowpunchers flung their ponies down the sharp incline recklessly. Theanimals were sure-footed as mountain goats. Otherwise they could neverhave reached the valley right side up. It was a stretch of broken shalewith much loose rubble. The soft sandstone farther along had eroded andthere was a great deal of slack débris down which the horses slipped andslid, now on their haunches and again on all fours. 

The valley stretched for a mile before them and terminated at a rock wallinto which, no doubt, one or more cañons cut like sword clefts. Thecowpunchers had picked mounts, but it was plain they could not overhaulthe Apaches before the Indians captured the girl. 

Billie, even while galloping at full speed, began a long-distance fireupon the enemy. One of the Mescaleros had caught the bridle of the youngwoman's horse and was stopping the animal. It looked for a moment as ifthe raiders were going to make a stand, but presently their purposebecame clear to those in pursuit. The one that Billie had picked for arenegade white dropped from the horse upon which he was riding double andswung up behind the captive. The huddle of men and ponies opened up andwas in motion again toward the head of the valley. 

But though the transfer had been rapid, it had taken time. The pursuers, thundering across the valley, had gained fast. Rifles barked back andforth angrily. 

The Indians swerved sharply to the left for the mouth of a cañon. Herethey pulled up to check the cowboys, who slid from their saddles to usetheir ponies for protection. 

"That gorge to the right is called Escondido Cañon, " explained Prince. "We combed it for cattle last year. About three miles up it runs into theone where the 'Paches are! Don't remember the name of that one. "

"I'll give it a new name, " answered the boy. He raised his rifle, restedit across the back of his pony, and took careful aim. An Indian plungedfrom his horse. "Shoot-a-Buck Cañon--how'll that do for a name?" inquiredThursday with a grin. 

Prince let out a whoop. "You got him right. He'll never smile again. Shoot-a-Buck Cañon goes. "

The Indians evidently held a hurried consultation and changed their mindsabout holding the gorge against such deadly shooting as this. 

"They're gun-shy, " announced Thursday. "They don't like the way we fog'em and they're goin' to hit the trail, Billie. "

After one more shot Prince made the mistake of leaving the shelter of hishorse too soon. He swung astride and found the stirrup. A puff of smokecame from the entrance to the gulch. Billie turned to his friend with apuzzled, sickly smile on his face. "They got me, kid. "

"Bad?"

The cowboy began to sag in the saddle. His friend helped him to theground. The wound was in the thigh. 

"I'll tie it up for you an' you'll be good as new, " promised his friend. 

The older man looked toward the gorge. No Indians were in sight. 

"I can wait, but that little girl in the hands of those devils can't. Areyou game to play a lone hand, kid?" he asked. 

"I reckon. "

"Then ride hell-for-leather up Escondido. It's shorter than the way theytook. Where the gulches come together be waitin' an' git 'em from thebrush. There's just one slim chance you'll make it an' come back alive. "

The boy's eyes were shining. "Suits me fine. I'll go earn that name Ichristened myself--Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em. "

Billie, his face twisted with pain, watched the youngster disappear at abreakneck gallop into Escondido. 

Chapter III

Ranse Roush Pays

Jim Thursday knew that his sole chance of success lay in reaching thefork of the cañons before the Indians. So far he had been lucky. ThreeApaches had gone to their happy hunting ground, and though both he andBillie were wounded, his hurt at least did not interfere with accuraterifle-fire. But it was not reasonable to expect such good fortune tohold. In the party he was pursuing were four men, all of them used towarfare in the open. Unless he could take them at a disadvantage he couldnot by any possibility defeat them and rescue their captive. 

His cinnamon pony took the rising ground at a steady gallop. Its stridedid not falter, though its breathing was labored. Occasionally the ridertouched its flank with the sharp rowel of a spur. The boy was a lover ofhorses. He had ridden too many dry desert stretches, had too often keptnight watch over a sleeping herd, not to care for the faithful andefficient animal that served him and was a companion to his loneliness. Like many plainsmen he made of his mount a friend. 

But he dared not spare his pony now. He must ride the heart out of thegallant brute for the sake of that life he had come to save. And while heurged it on, his hand patted the sweat-stained neck and his low voicesympathized. 

"You've got to go to it, old fellow, if it kills you, " he said aloud. "Wegot to save that girl for Billie, ain't we? We can't let those red devilstake her away, can we?"

It was a rough cattle trail he followed, strewn here with boulders andthere tilted down at breakneck angle of slippery shale. Sometimes it fellabruptly into washes and more than once rose so sharply that a heathercat could scarce have clambered up. But Thursday flung his horserecklessly at the path, taking chances of a fall that might end the madrace. He could not wait to pick a way. His one hope lay in speed, inreaching the fork before the enemy. He sacrificed everything to that. 

From the top of a sharp pitch he looked down into the twin cañon ofEscondido. A sharp bend cut off the view to the left, so that he couldsee for only seventy-five or a hundred yards. But his glance followed thegulch up for half a mile and found no sign of life. He was in time. 

Swiftly he made his preparations. First he led the exhausted horse backto a clump of young cottonwoods and tied it safely. From its place besidethe saddle he took the muley gun and with the rifle in his other hand helimped swiftly back to the trail. Every step was torture, but he couldnot stop to think of that now. His quick eye picked a perfect spot for anambush where a great rock leaned against another at the edge of thebluff. Between the two was a narrow opening through which he couldcommand the bend in the trail below. To enlarge this he scooped out thedirt with his fingers then reloaded the rifle and thrust it into thecrevice. The sawed-off shotgun lay close to his hand. 

Till now he had found no time to get nervous, but as the minutes passedhe began to tremble violently and to whimper. In spite of his experiencehe was only a boy and until to-day had never killed a man. 

"Doggone it, if I ain't done gone an' got buck fever, " he reproachedhimself. "I reckon it's because Billie Prince ain't here that I'm soscairt. I wisht I had a drink, so as I'd be right when the old muley gungits to barkin'. "

A faint sound, almost indistinguishable, echoed up the gulch to him. Miraculously his nervousness vanished. Every nerve was keyed up, everymuscle tense, but he was cool as water in a mountain stream. 

The sound repeated itself, a faint tinkle of gravel rolling from a trailbeneath the hoof of a horse. At the last moment Thursday changed his mindand substituted the shotgun for the rifle. 

"Old muley she spatters all over the State of Texas. I might git two atonce, " he muttered. 

The light, distant murmur of voices reached him. His trained ear told himjust how far away the speakers were. 

An Apache rounded the bend, a tall, slender young brave wearing only alow-cut breech-cloth and a pair of moccasins. Around his waist wasstrapped a belt full of cartridges and from it projected the handle of along Mexican knife. The brown body of the youth was lithe and graceful asthat of a panther. He was smiling over his shoulder at the next rider inline, a heavy-set, squat figure on a round-bellied pinto. That smile wasto go out presently like the flame of a blown candle. A third Mescalerofollowed. Like that of the others, his coarse, black hair fell to theshoulders, free except for a band that encircled the forehead. 

Still the boy did not fire. He waited till the last of the partyappeared, a man in fringed buckskin breeches and hickory shirt ridingpillion behind a young woman. Both of these were white. 

The sawed-off gun of Thursday covered the second rider carefully. Beforethe sound of the shot boomed down the gorge the Apache was lifted fromthe bare back of the pony. The heavy charge of buckshot had riddled himthrough and through. 

Instantly the slim, young brave in the lead dug his heels into the flankof his pony, swung low to the far side so that only a leg was visible, and flew arrow-straight up the cañon for safety. Thursday let him go. 

Twice his rifle rang out. At that distance it was impossible for a goodshot to miss. One bullet passed through the head of the third Mescalero. The other brought down the pony upon which the whites were riding. 

The fall of the horse flung the girl free, but the foot of her captor wascaught between the saddle and the ground. Thursday drew a bead on himwhile he lay there helpless, but some impulse of mercy held his hand. Theman was that creature accursed in the border land, a renegade who hasturned his face against his own race and must to prove his sincerity tothe tribe out-Apache an Apache at cruelty. Still, he was white afterall--and Jim Thursday was only eighteen. 

Rifle in hand the boy clambered down the jagged rock wall to the dryriver-bed below. The foot of his high-heeled boot was soggy with blood, but for the present he had to ignore the pain messages that throbbed tohis brain. The business on hand would not wait. 

While Thursday was still slipping down from one outcropping ledge of rockto another, a plunge of the wounded horse freed the renegade. The manscrambled to his feet and ran shakily for the shelter of a boulder. Inhis hurry to reach cover he did not stop to get the rifle that had beenflung a few yards from him when he fell. 

The boy caught one glimpse of that evil, fear-racked face. The bloodflushed his veins with a surge of triumph. He was filled with the savage, primitive exultation of the head-hunter. For four years he had slept onthe trail of this man and had at last found him. The scout had fought theApaches impersonally, without rancor, because a call had come to him thathe could not ignore. But now the lust of blood was on him. He had becomethat cold, implacable thing known throughout the West as a "killer. "

The merciless caution that dictates the methods of a killer animated hismovements now. Across the gulch, nearly one hundred and fifty yards fromhim, the renegade lay crouched. A hunched shoulder was just visible. 

Thursday edged carefully along the ledge. He felt for holds with his handand feet, for not once did his gaze lift from that patch of hickoryshirt. The eyes of the boy had narrowed to slits of deadly light. He waswary as a hungry wolf and as dangerous. That the girl had disappearedaround the bend he did not know. His brain functioned for just onepurpose--to get the enemy with whom he had come at last to grips. 

As the boy crept along the rock face for a better view of his victim, theminutes fled. Five of them--ten--a quarter of an hour passed. Therenegade lay motionless. Perhaps he hoped that his location was unknown. 

The man-hunter on the ledge flung a bullet against the protectingboulder. His laugh of cruel derision drifted across the cañon. 

"Run to earth at last, Ranse Roush!" he shouted, "I swore I'd camp onyour trail till I got you--you an' the rest of yore poison tribe. "

From the trapped wretch quavered back a protest. 

"Goddlemighty, I ain't done nothin' to you-all. Lemme explain. "

"Before you do any explainin' mebbe you'd better guess who it is that'sgoin' to send yore cowardly soul to hell inside of five minutes. "

"If you're some kin to that gal on the hawss with me, why, I'll tell youthe honest-to-God truth. I was aimin' to save her from the 'Paches when Igot a chanct. Come on down an' let's we-uns talk it over reasonable. "

The boy laughed again, but there was something very far from mirth in thesound of that chill laughter. "If you won't guess I'll have to tell youEver hear of the Clantons, Ranse Roush? I'm one of 'em. Now you know whatchance you got to talk yoreself out of this thing. "

"I--I'm glad to meet up with you-all. I got to admit that the Roush clanis dirt mean. Tha's why I broke away from 'em. Tha's why I come out here. You Clantons is all right. I never did go in for this bushwhackin' withDave an' Hugh. I never--"

"You're a born liar like the rest of yore wolf tribe. You come out herebecause the country got too hot to hold you after what you did to 'LindyClanton. I might 'a' knowed I'd find you with the 'Paches. You allus waslow-mixed Injun. " The boy had fallen into the hill vernacular to which hehad been born. He was once more a tribal feudist of the border land. 

"I swear I hadn't a thing to do with that, " the man cried eagerly. "Youshore done got that wrong. Dave an' Hugh done that. They're a bad lot. When I found out about 'Lindy Clanton I quarreled with 'em an' we-allsplit up company. Tha's the way of it. "

"You're ce'tainly in bad luck then, " the boy shouted back tauntingly. "For I aim to stomp you out like I would a copperhead. " Very distinctlyhe added his explanation. "I'm 'Lindy Clanton's brother. "

Roush begged for his life. He groveled in the dust. He promised toreform, to leave the country, to do anything that was asked of him. 

"Go ahead. It's meat an' drink to me to hear a Roush whine. I got all dayto this job, but I aim to do it thorough, " jeered Clanton. 

A bullet flattened itself against the rock wall ten feet below the boy. In despair the man was shooting wildly with his revolver. He knew therewas no use in pleading, that his day of judgment had come. 

Young Clanton laughed in mockery. "Try again, Roush. You ain't quite gotthe range. "

The man made a bolt for the bend in the cañon a hundred yards away. Instantly the rifle leaped to the shoulder of the boy. 

"Right in front of you, Roush, " he prophesied. 

The bullet kicked up the dust at the feet of the running man. The nerveof Roush failed him and he took cover again behind a scrub live-oak. Amemory had flashed to him of the day when he had seen a thirteen-year-oldboy named Jim Clanton win a turkey shoot against the best marksmen ofthe hill country. 

The army Colt spit out once more at the boy on the ledge. Before the echohad died away the boom of an explosion filled the cañon. Roush pitchedforward on his face. 

Jim Clanton lowered his rifle with an exclamation. His face was a pictureof amazement. Some one had stolen his vengeance from him by a hair'sbreadth. 

Two men came round the bend on horseback. Behind them rode a girl. Shewas mounted on the barebacked pinto of the Indian Clanton had killedwith the shotgun. 

The boy clambered down to the bed of the gulch and limped toward them. The color had ebbed from his lips. At every step a pain shot through hisleg. But in spite of his growing weakness anger blazed in the light-blueeyes. 

"I waited four years to git him. I kept the trail hot from Tucson toVegas an' back to Santone. An' now, doggone it, when my finger was on thetrigger an' the coyote as good as dead, you cut in an' shoot thedaylights out of him. By gum, it ain't fair!"

The older man looked at him in astonishment. "But he is only a child, Polly! Cela me passe!"

"Mebbe I am only a kid, " the boy retorted resentfully. "But I reckon I'mman enough to handle any Roush that ever lived. I wasn't askin' for helpfrom you-uns that I heerd tell of. "

The younger man laughed. He was six or seven years older than the girl, who could not have been more than seventeen. Both of them bore a markedlikeness to the middle-aged man who had spoken. Jim guessed that this wasthe Roubideau family of whom Billie Prince had told him. 

"Just out of the cradle, by Christmas, and he's killed four 'Pachesinside of an hour an' treed a renegade to boot, " said young Roubideau. "I'd call it a day's work, kid, for it sure beats all records ever I knewhung up by one man. "

The admiration of the young rancher was patent. He could not take hiseyes from the youthful phenomenon. 

"He's wounded, father, " the girl said in a low voice. 

The boy looked at her and his anger died away. "Billie sent me up thegulch when he was shot. He 'lowed it was up to me to git you back fromthose devils, seein' as he couldn't go himself. "

Polly nodded. She seemed to be the kind of girl that understands withoutbeing told in detail. 

Before Thursday could protect himself, Roubideau, senior, had seized himin his arms, embraced him, and kissed first one cheek and then the other. "Eh bien! But you are the brave boy! I count it honor to know you. Mylittle Polly, have you not save her? Ah! But I forget the introductions. Myself, I am Pierre Roubideau, à tout propos at your service. My sonJean. Pauline--what you call our babie. "

"My real name is Jim Clanton, " answered the boy. "I've been passin' bythat of 'Thursday' so that none of the Roush outfit would know I was inthe country till I met up face to face with 'em. "

"Clanton! It is a name we shall remember in our prayers, n'est-ce pas, Polly?" Pierre choked up and wrung fervently the hand of the youngster. 

Clanton was both embarrassed and wary. He did not know at what momentRoubideau would disgrace him by attempting another embrace. There wassomething in the Frenchman's eye that told of an emotion not yet expendedfully. 

"Oh, shucks; you make a heap of fuss about nothin', " he grumbled. "Didn'tI tell you it was Billie Prince sent me? An' say, I got a pill in myfoot. Kindness of one of them dad-gummed Mescaleros. I hate to walk onthat laig. I wish yore boy would go up on the bluff an' look after myhorse. I 'most rode it to death, I reckon, comin' up the cañon. An'there's a sawed-off shotgun. He'll find it. .. "

For a few moments the ground had been going up and down in waves beforethe eyes of the boy. Now he clutched at a stirrup leather for support, but his fingers could not seem to find it. Before he could steady himselfthe bed of the dry creek rose up and hit him in the head. 

Chapter IV

Pauline Roubideau Says "Thank You. "

Jimmie Clanton slid back from unconsciousness to a world the center ofwhich was a girl sitting on a rock with his rifle across her knees. Thepicture did not at first associate itself with any previous experience. She was a brown, slim young thing in a calico print that fitted snuglythe soft lines of her immature figure. The boy watched her shyly andwondered at the quiet self-reliance of her. She was keeping guard overhim, and there was about her a cool vigilance that went oddly with thesmall, piquant face and the tumbled mass of curly chestnut hair that hadfallen in a cascade across her shoulders. 

"Where are yore folks?" he asked presently. 

She turned her head slowly and looked at him. Southern suns had sprinkledbeneath her eyes a myriad of powdered freckles. She met his gazefairly, with a boyish directness and candor. 

"Jean has ridden out to tell your friends about you and Mr. Prince. Father has gone back to the house to fix up a travois to carry you. "

"Sho! I can ride. "

"There's no need of it. You must have lost a great deal of blood. "

He looked down at his foot and saw that the boot had been cut away. Abandage of calico had been tied around the wound. He guessed that thegirl had sacrificed part of a skirt. 

"And you stayed here to see the 'Paches didn't play with me whilst yorefather was gone, " he told her. 

"There wasn't any danger, of course. The only one that escaped is milesaway from here. But we didn't like to leave you alone. "

"That's right good of you. "

Her soft, brown eyes met his again. They poured upon him the gift ofpassionate gratitude she could not put into words. It was from somethingmuch more horrible than death that he had snatched her. One moment shehad been a creature crushed, leaden despair in her heart. Then themiracle had flashed down from the sky. She was free, astride the pinto, galloping for home. 

"Yes, you owe us much. " There was a note of light sarcasm in her clear, young voice, but the feeling in her heart swept it away in an emotionalrush of words from the tongue of her father. "Vous avez pris le fait etcause pour moi. Sans vous j'étais perdu. "

"You're French, " he said. 

"My father is, not my mother. She was from Tennessee. "

"I'm from the South, too. "

"You didn't need to tell me that, " she answered with a little smile. 

"Oh, I'm a Westerner now, but you ought to have heerd me talk when Ifirst came out. " He broached a grievance. "Say, will you tell yore dadnot to do that again? I'm no kid. "

"Do what?"

"You know. " The red flamed into his face. "If it got out among the boyswhat he'd done, I'd never hear the last of it. "

"You mean kissed you?"

"Sure I do. That ain't no way to treat a fellow. I'm past eighteen if Iam small for my age. Nobody can pull the pat-you-on-the-head-sonny stuffon me. "

"But you don't understand. That isn't it at all. My father is French. That makes all the difference. When he kissed you it meant--oh, that hehonored and esteemed you because you fought for me. "

"I been tellin' you right along that Billie Prince is to blame. Let himgo an' kiss Billie an' see if he'll stand for it. "

A flash of roguishness brought out an unexpected dimple near the cornerof her insubordinate mouth. "We'll be good, all of us, and never do itagain. Cross our hearts. "

Young Clanton reddened beneath the tan. Without looking at her he feltthe look she tilted sideways at him from under the long, curved lashes. Of course she was laughing at him. He knew that much, even though helacked the experience to meet her in kind. Oddly enough, there prickedthrough his embarrassment a delicious little tingle of delight. So longas she took him in as a partner of her gayety she might make as much funof him as she pleased. 

But the owlish dignity of his age would not let him drop the subjectwithout further explanation. "It's all right for yore dad to much you. Ireckon a girl kinder runs to kisses an' such doggoned foolishness. But aman's different. He don't go in for it. "

"Oh, doesn't he?" asked Polly demurely. She did not think it necessary tomention that every unmarried man who came to the ranch wanted to makelove to her before he left. "I'm glad you told me, because I'm only agirl and I don't know much about it. And since you're a man, of courseyou know. "

"That's the way it is, " he assured her, solemn as a pouter. 

She bit her lip to keep from laughing out, but on the heels of her mirthcame a swift reproach. In his knowledge of life he might be a boy, but inone way at least he had proved himself a man. He had taken his life inhis hands and ridden to save her without a second thought. He had foughta good fight, one that would be a story worth telling when she had becomean old woman with grandchildren at her knee. 

"Does your foot hurt you much?" she asked gently. 

"It sort o' keeps my memory jogged up. It's a kind of forget-me-notsouvenir, for a good boy, compliments of a Mescalero buck, name unknown, probably now permanently retired from his business of raisin' Cain. Butit might be a heap worse. They would've been glad to collect our scalpsif it hadn't been onconvenient, I expect. "

"Yes, " she agreed gravely. 

He sat up abruptly. "Say, what about Billie? I left him wounded outside. Did yore folks find him?"

"Yes. It seems the Apaches trapped them in the stable. They roped horsesand came straight for the cañon. They found Mr. Prince, but they hadno time to stop then. Father is looking after him now. He said he wasgoing to take him to the house in the buckboard. "

"Is he badly hurt?"

"Jean thinks he will be all right. Mr. Prince told him it was only aflesh wound, but the muscles were so paralysed he couldn't get around. "

"The bullet did not strike an artery, then?"

"My brother seemed to think not. "

"I reckon there's no doctor near. "

Her eyes twinkled. "Not very near. Our nearest neighbor lives on thePecos one hundred land seventeen miles away. But my father is as good asa doctor any day of the week. "

"Likely you don't borrow coffee next door when you run out of itonexpected. But don't you get lonesome?"

"Haven't time, " she told him cheerfully. "Besides, somebody going throughstops off every three or four months. Then we learn all the news. "

Jimmie glanced at her shyly and looked quickly away. This girl was notlike any woman he had known. Most of them were drab creatures with thespirit washed out of them. His sister had been an exception. She had hadplenty of vitality, good looks and pride, but the somber shadow of herenvironment had not made for gayety. It was different with PaulineRoubideau. Though she had just escaped from terrible danger, laughterbubbled up in her soft throat, mirth rippled over her mobile little face. She expressed herself with swift, impulsive gestures at times. Then againshe suggested an inheritance of slow grace from the Southland of hermother. 

He did not understand the contradictions of her and they worried him alittle. Billie had told him that she could rope and shoot as well as anyman. He had seen for himself that she was an expert rider. Her nerveswere good enough to sit beside him at quiet ease within a stone's throwof three sprawling bodies from which she had seen the lusty life drivenscarce a half-hour since. Already he divined the boyish _camaraderie_that was so simple and direct an expression of good-will. And yet therewas something about her queer little smile he could not make out. Ithinted that she was really old enough to be his mother, that she washeiress of wisdom handed down by her sex through all the generations. As yet he had not found out that he was only a boy and she was a woman. 

***

Chapter V

No Four-Flusher

Pauline Roubideau knew the frontier code. She evinced no curiosity aboutthe past of this boy-man who had come into her life at the nick of time. None the less she was eager to know what connection lay between him andthe renegade her brother had killed. She had heard Jim Clanton say thathe had waited four years for his revenge and had followed the man allover the West. Why? What motive could be powerful enough with a boy offourteen to sway so completely his whole life toward vengeance?

She set herself to find out without asking. Inside of ten minutes thesecret which had been locked so long in his warped soul had been confidedto her. The boy broke down when he told her the story of his sister'sdeath. He was greatly ashamed of himself for his emotion, but the touchof her warm sympathy melted the ice in his heart and set him sobbing. 

Quickly she came across to him and knelt down by his side. 

"You poor boy! You poor, poor boy!" she murmured. 

Her arm crept round his shoulders with the infinitely tender caress ofthe mother that lies, dormant or awake, in all good women. 

"I--I--I'm nothing but a baby, " he gulped, trying desperately to masterhis sobs. 

"Don't talk foolishness, " she scolded to comfort him. "I wouldn't thinkmuch of you if you didn't love your sister enough to cry for her. "

There were tears in her own eyes. Her lively young imagination picturedvividly the desolation of the young hill girl betrayed so cruelly, theswift decline of her stern, broken-hearted father. The thought of thehalf-grown boy following the betrayers of his sister across thecontinent, his life dedicated for years to vengeance, was a dreadfulthing to contemplate. It shocked her sense of all that was fitting. Nodoubt his mission had become a religion with him. He had lain down atnight with that single purpose before him. He had risen with it in themorning. It had been his companion throughout the day. From one season toanother he had cherished it when he should have been filled with thehappy, healthy play impulses natural to his age. 

The boy told the story of that man-hunt without a suspicion that therewas anything in it to outrage the feelings of the girl. 

"If it hadn't been for old Nance Cunningham, I reckon Devil Dave an' hisbrothers would have fixed up some cock an' bull story about how 'Lindywas drowned by accident. But folks heard Nance an' then wouldn't believea word they said. Dad swore us Clantons to wipe out the whole clan of'em. Every last man in the hills that was decent got to cussin' the Roushoutfit. Their own friends turned their backs on all three. Then thesheriff come up from the settlemint an' they jest naturally lit out. 

"I heerd tell they were in Arizona an' after dad died I took after 'em. But seemed like I had no luck. When I struck their trail they had alwaysjust gone. To-day I got Ranse--leastways I would'a' got him if yorebrother hadn't interfered. I'll meet up with the others one o' thesetimes. I'll git 'em too. "

He spoke with quiet conviction, as if it were a business matter that hadto be looked after. 

"Did you ever hear this: 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith theLord'?"

He nodded. "Dad used to read that to me. There's a heap in the Bibleabout killin' yore enemies. Dad said that vengeance verse meant thatwe-all was the Lord's deputies, like a sheriff has folks to help him, an'we was certainly to repay the Roushes an' not to forgit interestneither. "

The girl shook her head vigorously. "I don't think that's what it meansat all. If you'll read the verses above and below, you'll see it doesn't. We're to feed our enemies when they are hungry. We're to do them good forevil. "

"That's all right for common, every-day enemies, but the Roush clan ain'tthat kind, " explained the boy stubbornly. "It shore is laid on me todestroy 'em root an' branch, like the Bible says. "

By the way he wagged his head he might have been a wise little old man. The savage philosophy of the boy had been drawn in with his mother'smilk. It had been talked by his elders while as a child he drowsed beforethe big fireplace on winter nights. After his sister's tragic death ithad been driven home by Bible texts and by a solemn oath of vengeance. Was it likely that anything she could say would have weight with him? Forthe present the girl gave up her resolve to convert him to a moreChristian point of view. 

The sun had sunk behind the cañon wall when Pierre Roubideau arrived witha travois which he had hastily built. There was no wagon-road up thegulch and it would have been difficult to get the buckboard in as far asthe fork over the broken terrain. As a voyageur of the North he had oftenseen wounded men carried by the Indians in travois across the plains. Heknew, too, that the tribes of the Southwest use them. This one wasconstructed of two sixteen-foot poles with a canvas lashed from one barto the other. The horse was harnessed between the ends of the shafts, theother ends dragging on the ground. 

Clanton looked at this device distastefully. "I'm no squaw. Whyfor can'tI climb on its back an' ride?"

"Because you are seeck. It iss of the importance that you do not exertyourself. Voyons! You will be comfortable here. N'est-ce pas, Polly?"Pierre gesticulated as he explained volubly. He even illustrated thecomfort by lying down in the travois himself and giving a dramaticrepresentation of sleep. 

The young man grumbled, but gave way reluctantly. 

"How's Billie Prince?" he asked presently from the cot where he lay. 

"He will hafe a fever, but soon he will be well again. I, Pierre, promiseit. For he iss of a good strength and sound as a dollar. "

Pauline, rifle in hand, scouted ahead of the travois and picked thesmoothest way down the rough ravine. The horse that Roubideau drove wasan old and patient one. Its master held it to a slow, even pace, so thatthe wounded boy was jolted as little as possible. When they had reachedthe entrance to the gorge, travel across the valley became less bumpy. 

The young girl walked as if she loved it. The fine, free swing of thehill woman was in her step. She breasted the slope with the light graceof a forest faun. Presently she dropped back to a place beside theconveyance and smiled encouragement at him. 

"Pretty bad, is it?"

He grinned back. "It's up to me to play the hand I've been dealt. "

That he was in a good deal of pain was easy to guess. 

"We're past the worst of it, " Pauline told him, "Up this hill--down theother side--and then we're home. "

The bawling of thirsty cattle and the blatting of calves could be heardnow. 

"It iss that Monsieur Webb has taken my advice to drive the herd up thecañon and into the park for the night, " explained Roubideau. "There issone way in, one way out. Guard the entrances and the 'Paches cannotstampede the cattle. Voilà!"

From the hill-top the leaders of the herd could be seen drinking at thecreek. Cattle behind were pushing forward to get at the water, while theriders on the point and at the swing were directing the movement of thebeeves, now checking the steady pressure from the rear and now hasteningthe pace of those dawdling in the stream. To add to the confusion cowswere mooing loudly for their off-spring not yet unloaded from the calfwagon. 

Near the summit Jean with the buckboard met the party from the cañon. Hehelped Clanton to the seat and drove to the house. 

Webb cantered up. "What's this I hear about you, Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em? Theytell me you've made four good Injuns to-day, shot up a renegade, rescuedthis young lady here, 'most rode one of my horses to death, an' got stoveup in the foot yore own self. It certainly must have been yore busyafternoon. "

The drover looked at him with a new respect. He had found the answer tothe question he had put himself a few hours earlier. This boy was nofour-flusher. He not only knew how and when to shoot, was game as abulldog, and keen as a weasel; he possessed, too, that sixth sense sonecessary to a gun-fighter, the instinct which shows him how to takeadvantage of every factor in the situation so as to come through safely. 

"I didn't do it all, " answered Clanton, flushing. "Billie helped, and theRoubideaus got two of 'em. "

"That's not the way Billie tells it. Anyhow, you-all made a great gatherbetween you. Six 'Paches that will never smile again ought to give theraiders a pain. "

"Don't you think we'd better get him to bed?" said Pauline gently. 

"You're shoutin', ma'am, " agreed Webb. "Roubideau, the little boss saysJimmie-Go-Get-'Em is to be put to bed. I'll tote him in if you'llgive my boys directions about throwin' the herd into yore park andloose-herdin' 'em there. "

The Missourian picked up the wounded boy and followed Pauline into thehouse. She led the way to her own little bedroom. It was the mostcomfortable in the house and that was the one she wanted Jim Clanton tohave. 

Chapter VI

Billie Asks a Question

Roubideau rounded up next day his beef stock and sold two hundred head tothe drover. During the second day the riders were busy putting the roadbrand on the cattle just bought. 

"Don't bust yore suspenders on this job, boys, " Webb told his men. "I'djust as lief lie up here for a few days while Uncle Sam is roundin' uphis pets camped out there. Old man Roubideau says we're welcome to stickaround. The feed's good. Our cattle are some gaunted with the drive. Itwon't hurt a mite to let 'em stay right here a spell. "

But on the third day came news that induced the Missourian to change hismind. Jean, who had been out as a scout, returned with the informationthat a company of cavalry had come down from the fort and that theApaches had hastily decamped for parts unknown. 

"I reckon we'll throw into the trail again tomorrow, Joe, " the drovertold Yankie. "No use wastin' time here if we don't have to stay. We'llmosey along toward the river. Kinder take it easy an' drift the herd downslow so as to let the cattle put on flesh. Billie an' the kid can join ussoon as they're fit to travel. "

The decision was announced on the porch of the Roubideau house. Its ownerand his daughter were present. So was Dad Wrayburn. The Texan old-timersnorted as he rolled a cigarette. 

"Hm! Soft thing those two boys have got sittin' around an' bein' pettedby Miss Polly here. I've a notion to go an' bust my laig too. Will younurse me real tender, ma'am, if I get stove up pullin' off a grand-standplay like they done?"

"The hospital is full. We haven't got room for more invalids, Mr. Wrayburn, " laughed the girl. 

"Well, you let me know when there's a vacancy, Miss Polly. My sister gaveme a book to read onct. It was 'most twenty years ago. The name of it was'Ivanhoe. ' I told her I would save it to read when I broke my laig. Lookslike I never will git that book read. "

By daybreak the outfit was on the move. Yankie trailed the cattle out tothe plain and started them forward leisurely. Webb had allowed himselfplenty of time for the drive. The date set for delivery at the fort wasstill distant and he wanted the beeves to be in first-class condition forinspection. To reach the Pecos he was allowing three weeks, a programmethat would let him bed the herd down early and would permit of driftingit slowly to graze for an hour or two a day. 

The weeks that followed were red-letter ones in the life of Jim Clanton. They gave him his first glimpse of a family life which had for its basisnot only affection, but trust and understanding. He had never before seena household that really enjoyed little jokes shared in common, whosemembers were full of kind consideration the one for the other. TheRoubideaus had more than a touch of the French temperament. They tooklife gayly and whimsically, and though they poked all kinds of fun ateach other there was never any sting to their wit. 

Pauline was a famous little nurse. It was not long before she wasoffering herself as a crutch to help young Clanton limp to the sunnyporch. Two or three days later Billie joined his fellow invalid. Fromwhere they sat the two young men could hear the girl as she went abouther work singing. Often she came out with a plate of hot, new-bakedcookies for them and a pitcher of milk. Or she would dance out withoutany excuse except that of her own frank interest in the youth she sharedwith her patients. 

One of the Roubideau jokes was that Polly was the mother of the familyand her father and Jean two mischievous little boys she had to scold andpet alternately. Temporarily she took the two cowpunchers into her circleand browbeat them shamefully with an impudent little twinkle in hereyes. Whatever the state of Billie's mind may have been before, there canbe no doubt that now he was fathoms deep in love. With hungry eyes hetook in her laughter and raillery, her boyish high spirits, the sweettenderness of the girl for her father. He loved her wholly--the charm ofher comradeship, of her swift, generous impulses, of that touch ofcoquetry she could not entirely subdue. 

Pierre had been a chasseur in the Franco-Prussian War. His daughter wasvery proud of it, but one of her games was to mock him fondly byswaggering back and forth while she sang:

"Allons, enfants de la patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrivé. "

When she came to the chorus, nothing would do but all of them must join. She taught the words and tune to Prince and Jimmie so that they couldfall into line behind the old soldier and his son:

"Aux armes, citoyens! formez vos bataillons! Marchons! Marchons!Qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons. "

It always began in pretended derision, but as she swept her littlecompany down the porch all the gallant, imperishable soul of France spokein her ringing voice and the flash of her brown eyes. Surely herpatriotism was no less sound because the blood of Alsace and that ofTennessee were fused in her ardent veins. 

The wounds of the young men healed rapidly, and both of them foresaw thatthe day of their departure could no longer be postponed. Neither of themwas yet in condition to walk very far, but on horseback they were fit totravel carefully. 

"We got all the time there is. No need of pushin' on the reins, but Ireckon the old man isn't payin' us fifty dollars a month to hold down theRoubideau porch, " said Prince regretfully. 

"No, we gotta light a shuck, " admitted Jim, with no noticeable alacrity. He was in no hurry to leave himself, even if he did not happen to be inlove. 

Billie put his fortune to the touch while he was out with Polly roundingup some calves. They were riding knee to knee in the dust of the dragthrough a small arroyo. 

The cowpuncher swallowed once or twice in a dry throat and blurted out, "I got something to tell you before I go, Polly. "

The girl flashed a look at him. She recognized the symptoms. Her gazewent back to the wavelike motion of the backs of the moving yearlings. 

"Don't, Billie, " she said gently. 

Before he spoke again he thought over her advice. He knew he had hisanswer. But he had to go through with it now. 

"I reckoned it would be that way. I'm nothin' but a rough vaquero. Whyforshould you like me?"

"Oh, but I do!" she cried impulsively. "I like you a great deal. You'reone of the best men I know--brave and good and modest. It isn't that;Billie. "

"Is there--some one else? Or oughtn't I to ask that?"

"No, there's nobody else. I'm awfully glad you like me. The girl thatgets you will be lucky. But I don't care about men that way. I want tostay with dad and Jean. "

"Mebbe some day you may feel different about it. "

"Mebbe I will, " she agreed. "Anyhow, I want you to stay friends with me. You will, won't you?"

"Sure. I'll be there just as long as you want me for a friend, " he saidsimply. 

She gave him her little gauntleted hand. They were close to a bend in thedraw. Soon they would be within sight of the house. 

"I'd say 'Yes' if I could, Billie. I'd rather it would be you thananybody else. You won't feel bad, will you?"

"Oh, that's all right. " He smiled, and there was something about thepluck of the eyes in the lean, tanned face that touched her. "I'm goin'to keep right on carin' for my little pal even if I can't get what Iwant. "

She had not yet fully emerged from her childhood. There was in her astrong desire to comfort him somehow, to show by a mark of special favorhow high she held him in her esteem. 

"Would you--would you like to kiss me?" she asked simply. 

He felt a clamor of the blood and subdued it before he answered. It wasin accord with the charm she held for him that her frank generosityenhanced his respect for her. If she gave a royal gift it was out of thetruth of her heart. 

Without need of words she read acceptance in his eyes and leaned towardhim in the saddle. Their lips met. 

"You're the first--except dad and Jean, " she told him. 

The feeling in his primitive heart he could not have analyzed. He did notknow that his soul was moved to some such consecration as that of a youngknight taking his vow of service, though he was aware that all the goodin him leaped to instant response in her presence, that by some strangespiritual alchemy he had passed through a refining process. 

"I'm comin' back to see you some day. Mebbe you'll feel different then, "he said. 

"I might, " she admitted. 

They rounded the bend. Clanton, on horseback, caught sight of them. Hewaved his hat and cantered forward. 

"Say, Billie, how much bacon do you reckon we need to take with us?"

In front of the house Pauline slipped from her horse and left themdiscussing the commissary. 

Chapter VII

On the Trail

The convalescents rode away into a desert green with spring. The fragrantchaparral thickets were bursting into flower. Spanish bayonets studdedthe plains. Everywhere about them was the promise of a new life not yetburnt by hot summer suns to a crisp. 

During the day they ran into a swamp country and crossed a bayou wherecypress knees and blue gums showed fantastic in the eerie gloom of thestagnant water. From this they emerged to a more wooded region and madean early camp on the edge of a grove of ash trees bordering a smallstream where pecans grew thick. 

Shortly after daybreak they were jogging on at a walk-trot, the road gaitof the Southwest, into the treeless country of the prairie. They noonedat an arroyo seco, and after they had eaten took a siesta during the heatof the day. Night brought with it a thunderstorm and they took refuge ina Mexican hut built of palisades and roofed with grass sod. A widow livedalone in the jacal, but she made them welcome to the best she had. Theyoung men slept in a corner of the hut on a dry cowskin spread upon themud floor, their saddles for pillows and their blankets rolled aboutthem. 

While she was cooking their breakfast, Prince noticed the tears rollingdown her cheeks. She was a comely young woman and he asked her gallantlyin the bronco Spanish of the border if there was anything he could do torelieve her distress. 

She shook her head mournfully. "No, señor, " she answered in her nativetongue. "Only time can do that. I mourn my husband. He was a drunkenne'er-do-well, but he was my man. So I mourn a fitting period. He died inthat corner of the room where you slept. "

"Indeed! When?" asked Billie politely. 

"Ten days ago. Of smallpox. "

The young men never ate that breakfast. They fled into the sunlight andput many hurried miles between them and their amazed hostess. At thefirst stream they stripped, bathed, washed their clothes, dipped thesaddles, and lay nude in the warm sand until their wearing apparel wasdry. 

For many days they joked each other about that headlong flight, butunderneath their gayety was a dread which persisted. 

"I'm like Doña Isabel with her grief. Only time can heal me of that scareshe threw into Billie Prince, " the owner of that name confessed. 

"Me too, " assented Clanton, helping himself to pinole. "I'll bet I lost ayear's growth, and me small at that. "

Prince had been in the employ of Webb for three years. During the longhours when they rode side by side he told his companion much about theFlying V Y outfit and its owner. 

"He's a straight-up man, Homer Webb is. His word is good all over Texas. He'll sure do to take along, " said Billie by way of recommendation. 

"And Joe Yankie--does he stack up A 1 too?" asked the boy dryly. 

"I never liked Joe. It ain't only that he'll run a sandy on you if he canor that he's always ridin' any one that will stand to be picked on. Joe'ssure a bully. But then he's game enough, too, for that matter. I've seenhim fight like a pack of catamounts. Outside of that I've got a hunchthat he's crooked as a dog's hind leg. Mebbe I'm wrong, I'm tellin' youhow he strikes me. If I was Homer Webb, right now when trouble is comin'up with the Snaith-McRobert outfit, I'd feel some dubious about Joe. He'sa sulky, revengeful brute, an' the old man has pulled him up with a tightrein more'n once. "

"What do you mean--trouble with the Snaith-McRobert outfit?"

"That's a long story. The bad feelin' started soon after the war whenSnaith an' the old man were brandin' mavericks. It kind of smoulderedalong for a while, then broke out again when both of them began to bidon Government beef contracts. There's been some shootin' back an' forthan' there's liable to be a whole lot more. The Lazy S M--that's theSnaith-McRobert brand--claims the whole Pecos country by priority. Theold man ain't recognizin' any such fool title. He's got more 'n thirtythousand head of cattle there an' he'll fight for the grass if he has to. O' course there's plenty of room for everybody if it wasn't for the beefcontracts an' the general bad feelin'. "

"Don't you reckon it will be settled peaceably? They'll get together an'talk it over like reasonable folks. "

Billie shook his head. "The Lazy S M are bringin' in a lot of bad menfrom Texas an' the Strip. Some of our boys ain't exactly gun-shy either. One of these days there's sure goin' to be sudden trouble. "

"I'm no gunman, " protested Clanton indignantly. "I hired out to theold man to punch cows. Whyfor should I take any chances with theSnaith-McRobert outfit when I ain't got a thing in the world againstthem?"

"No, you're no gunman, " grinned his friend in amiable derision. "Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em is a quiet little Sunday-go-to-meetin' kid. It waskinder by accident that he bumped off four Apaches an' a halfbreed theother day. "

"Now don't you blame me for that, Billie. You was hell-bent on goin' intothe Roubideau place an' I trailed along. When you got yore pill in thelaig you made me ride up the gulch alone. I claim I wasn't to blame forthem Mescaleros. I wasn't either. "

Prince had made his prophecy about the coming trouble lightly. He couldnot guess that the most terrible feud in the history of the West was tospring out of the quarrel between Snaith and Webb, a border war so grimand deadly that within three years more than a hundred lusty men were tofall in battle and from assassination. It would have amazed him to knowthat the bullet which laid low the renegade in Shoot-a-Buck Cañon had setthe spark to the evil passions which resulted in what came to be calledthe Washington County War. Least of all could he tell that the girl-facedboy riding beside him was to become the best-known character of all thedesperate ones engaged in the trouble. 

Chapter VIII

The Fight

Half a dozen cowboys cantered up the main street of Los Portales in acloud of dust. One of them, older than the rest, let out the wild yell hehad known in the days when he rode with Quantrell's guerrillas on theinfamous raids of that bandit. A second flung into the blue sky threerapid revolver shots. Plainly they were advertising the fact that theyhad come to paint the town red and did not care who knew it. 

The riders pulled up abruptly in front of Tolleson's Gaming Palace &Saloon, swung from their horses, and trailed with jingling spurs intothat oasis of refreshment. Each of them carried in his hand a rope. Theother end of the rawhide was tied to the horn of a saddle. 

A heavy-set, bow-legged man led the procession to the bar. He straddledforward with a swagger. The bartender was busy dusting his stock. Beforethe man had a chance to turn, the butt of a revolver hammered thecounter. 

"Get busy here! Set 'em up, Mike. And jump!" snarled the heavy man. 

The barkeeper took one look at him and filed no demurrer. "Bad man" waswrit on every line of the sullen, dissipated face of the bully. It was asafe bet that he was used to having his own way, or failing that wasready to fight at the drop of the hat. 

Swiftly the drinks were prepared. 

"Here 'show!"

"How!"

Every glass was tilted and emptied. 

It was high noon by the sun and Tolleson's was practically deserted. Nodevotees sat round the faro, roulette, and keno tables. The dealers wereasleep in bed after their labors. So too were the dance girls. The pokerrooms upstairs held only the stale odor of tobacco and whiskey. Exceptfor a sleepy negro roustabout attendant and two young fellows at a tablewell back from the bar, the cowboys had the big hall all to themselves. 

The bay was near the front of the barnlike room and to the right. To theleft, along the wall, were small tables. Farther back were those used forgaming. In the rear one corner of the floor held a rostrum with seats formusicians. The center of the hall was kept clear for dancing. Three stepsled to a door halfway back on the left-hand side of the building. Theycommunicated with an outer stairway by means of which one could reach thepoker rooms. 

The older of the two young men at the table nodded toward the roisterersand murmured information. "Some of the Snaith-McRobert crowd. "

His companion was seated with his back to the bar. He had riot turned hishead to look at those lined up in front of the mirrors for drinks, but acurious change had come over him. The relaxed body had grown rigid. Nolonger was he lounging against the back of his chair. From his eyes thelaughter had been wiped out, as a wet sponge obliterates writing on aslate. All his forces were gathered as if for instant action. He wastense as a coiled spring. His friend noticed that the boy was listeningintently, every faculty concentrated at attention. 

A man leaning against the other end of the bar was speaking. He had ashock of long red hair and a squint to his eyes. 

"Sure you're right. A bunch of Webb's gunmen got Ranse--caught him outalone and riddled him. When Webb drove through here two days ago witha herd, his killers bragged of it. Ask Harsha up at the Buffalo Corral ifyouse don't believe me. Sure as hell's hot we got to go on the war-path. Here, you Mike! Set 'em up again. "

The boy at the table had drawn back his lips so that the canine teethstood out like tusks. There was something wolfish about the face, fromwhich all the color had been driven. It expressed something so deadly, somenacing, that the young man across from him felt a shock almost of fear. "We'd better get out of here, " he said, glancing toward the group nearthe front door. 

The other young man did not answer, but he made no move to leave. He wasstill taking in every syllable of what the drinkers were saying. 

The ex-guerrilla was talking. "Tha's sure sayin' something, Hugh. Thereain't room in New Mexico for Webb's outfit an' ours too. "

"Better go slow, boys, " advised another. He was a thick-set man in thelate thirties, tight-lipped and heavy-jawed. His eyes were set so closetogether that it gave him a sinister expression. "Talkin' don't get usanywhere. If we're goin' to sit in a game with Homer Webb an' hispunchers we got to play our hand close. "

"Buck Sanders, segundo of the Lazy S M ranches, " explained again theyoung man at the table in a low voice. "Say, kid, let's beat it whilethe goin' is good. "

The big bow-legged man answered the foreman. "You're right, Buck. So'sHugh. So's the old rebel. I'm jus' servin' notice that no bunch ofshorthorn punchers can kill a brother of mine an' get away with it. Un'erstand? I'll meet up with them some day an' I'll sure fog 'em to afare-you-well. " He interlarded his speech with oaths and foul language. 

"I'll bet you do, Dave, " chipped in the man next him, who had had arun-in with the Texas Rangers and was on the outskirts of civilizationbecause the Lone Star State did not suit his health. "I would certainlyhate to be one of them when yore old six-gun begins to pop. It sure willbe Glory-hallelujah for some one. "

Dave Roush ordered another drink on the strength of the Texan'sadmiration. "Mind, I don't say Ranse wasn't a good man. Mebbe I'm aleetle mite better 'n him with a hogleg. Mebbe--"

"Ranse was good with a revolver all right, but sho! you make him looklike a plugged nickel when you go to makin' smoke, Dave, " interrupted thetoady. 

"Well, mebbe I do. Say I do. I ain't yet met up with a man can beat mewhen I'm right. But at that Ranse was a mighty good man. They bushwhackedhim, I'll bet a stack of blues. I aim to git busy soon as I find out whodone it. "

The red-headed man raised his voice a trifle. "Say, you kid--there at thetable--come here an' hold these ropes! See you don't let the hawses atthe other end of 'em git away!"

Slowly the boy turned, pushing his chair round so that he half-faced thegroup before the bar. He neither rose nor answered. 

"Cayn't you-all hear?" demanded the man with the shock of unkempt, redhair. 

"I hear, but I'm not comin' right away. When I do, you'll wish I hadn't. "

If a bomb had exploded at his feet Hugh Roush could not have been moresurprised. He was a big, rough man, muscular and sinewy, and he had beenthe victor of many a rough-and-tumble fight. On account of his reputationfor quarrelsomeness men chose their words carefully when they spoke tohim. That this little fellow with the smooth, girlish face and the small, almost womanish hands and feet should defy him was hard to believe. 

"Come a-runnin', kid, or I'll whale the life out of you!" he roared. 

"You didn't get me right, " answered the boy in a low, clear voice. "I'mnot comin' till I get ready, Hugh Roush. "

The wolf snap of the boy's jaw, the cold glitter in his eyes, might havewarned Roush and perhaps did. He wondered, too, how this stranger knewhis name so well. 

"Where are you from?" he demanded. 

"From anywhere but here, "

"Meanin' that you're here to stay?"

"Meanin' that I'm here to stay. "

"Even if I tell you to git out of the country?"

"You won't be alive to tell me unless you talk right sudden. "

They watched each other, the man and the boy. Neither as yet made anymotion to draw his gun, the younger one because he was not ready, Roushbecause he did not want to show any premature alarm before the men takingin the scene. Nor could he yet convince himself, in spite of thechallenge that rang in the words of the boy, of serious danger from sounlikely a source. 

Dave Roush had been watching the boy closely. A likeness to someone whomhe could not place stirred faintly his memory. 

"Who are you? What's yore name?" he snapped out. 

The boy had risen from the chair. His hand rested on his hip as ifcasually. But Dave had observed the sureness of his motions and heaccepted nothing as of chance. The experience of Roush was that a gunmanlives longer if he is cautious. His fingers closed on the butt of therevolver at his side. 

"My name is James Clanton. "

Roush let fall a surprised oath. "It's 'Lindy Clanton you look like!You're her brother--the kid, Jimmie. "

"You've guessed it, Devil Dave. "

The eyes of the two crossed like rapiers. 

"Howcome you here? Whad you want?" asked Roush thickly. 

Already he had made up his mind to kill, but he wanted to choose his ownmoment. The instinct of the killer is always to take his enemy atadvantage. Clanton, with that sixth sense which serves the fighter, readhis purpose as if he had printed it on a sign. 

"You know why I'm here--to stomp the life out of you an' yore brother forwhat you done to my sister. I've listened to yore brags about what youwould do when you met up with them that killed Ranse Roush. Fine! Nowlet's see you make good. I'm the man that ran him down an' put an end tohim. Go through, you four-flushin' coward! Come a-shootin' wheneveryou're ready. "

The young Southerner had a definite motive in his jeering. He wanted todrive his enemies to attack him before they could come at him from twosides. 

"You--you killed Ranse?"

"You heard me say it once. " The eyes of the boy flashed for a moment tothe red-headed man. "Whyfor are you dodgin' back of the bar, HughRoush? Ain't odds of two to one good enough for you--an' that one only akid--without you runnin' to cover like the coyote you are? Looks likeyou'll soon be whinin' for me not to shoot, just like Ranse did. "

If any one had cared to notice, the colored roust-about might have beenseen at that moment vanishing out of the back door to a zone of safety. He showed no evidence whatever of being sleepy. 

The silence that followed the words of the boy was broken by Quantrell'sold grayback. Dave Roush was a bad man--a killer. He had three notches onhis gun. Perhaps he had killed others before coming West. At any rate, hewas no fair match for this undersized boy. 

"He's a kid, Dave. You don't want to gun a kid. You, Clanton--whateveryou call yourself--light a shuck pronto--git out!"

It is the habit of the killer to look for easy game. Out of the corner ofhis eye the man who had betrayed 'Lindy Clanton saw that Hugh was edgingback of the bar and dragging out his gun. This boy could be killed safelynow, since they were two to one, both of them experts with the revolver. To let him escape would be to live in constant danger for the future. 

"He's askin' for it, Reb. He's goin' to get it. "

Dave Roush pulled his gun, but before he could use it two shots rang outalmost simultaneously. The man at the corner of the bar had theadvantage. His revolver was in the clear before that of Clanton, but Jimfired from the hip without apparent aim. The bullet was flung from thebarrel an imperceptible second before that of Roush. The gunman, hit inthe wrist of the right hand, gave a grunt and took shelter back of thebar. 

The bystanders scurried for safety while explosion followed explosion. Young Clanton, light-footed as a cat, side-stepped and danced about ashe fired. The first shot of the red-headed man had hit him and the shockof it interfered with his accuracy. Hugh had disappeared, but above thesmoke the youngster still saw the cruel face of Devil Dave leeringtriumphantly at him behind the pumping gun. 

The boy kept moving, so that his body did not offer a static target. Heconcentrated his attention on Dave, throwing shot after shot at him. Thathe would kill his enemy Clanton never had a doubt. It was firmly fixed inhis mind that he had been sent as the appointed executioner of the man. 

It was no surprise to Jim when the face of his sister's betrayer lurchedforward into the smoke. He heard Roush fall heavily to the floor and sawthe weapon hurled out of reach. The fellow lay limp and still. 

Clanton did not waste a second look at the fallen man. He knew that theother Roush, crouched behind the bar, had been firing at him through thewoodwork. Now a bullet struck the wall back of his head. The red-headedman had fired looking through a knot-hole. 

The boy's weapon covered a spot three inches above this. He firedinstantly. A splinter flew from a second hole just above the first. Three long, noiseless strides brought Clanton to the end of the bar. Thered-headed man lay dead on the floor. The bullet had struck him justabove and between the eyes. 

"I reckon that ends the job. "

It was Jim's voice that said the words, though he hardly recognized it. Overcome by a sudden nausea, he leaned against the bar for support. Hefelt sick through and through. 

Chapter IX

Billie Stands Pat

Clanton came back out of the haze to find his friend's arm around hiswaist, the sound of his strong, cheerful voice in his ears. 

"Steady, old fellow, steady. Where did they hit you, Jim?"

"In the shoulder. I'm sick. "

Billie supported him to a chair and called to the bartender, who wascautiously rising from a prone position behind the bar. "Bring a glass ofwater, Mike. "

The wounded man drank the water, and presently the sickness passed. Hesaw a little crowd gather. Some of them carried out the body of HughRoush. They returned for that of his brother. 

"Dave ain't dead yet. He's still breathing, " one of the men said. 

"Not dead!" exclaimed Clanton. "Did you say he wasn't dead?"

"Now, don't you worry about that, " cautioned Prince. "Looks to me likeyou sure got him. Anyhow, it ain't your fault. You were that quiet andgame and cool. I never saw the beat. "

The admiration of his partner did not comfort Jim. He was suspiciouslynear a breakdown. "Why didn't I take another crack at him when I had thechance?" he whimpered. "I been waitin' all these years, an' now--"

"I tell you he hasn't a chance in a thousand, Jim. You did the jobthorough. He's got his, "

Prince had been intending to say more, but he changed his mind. Half adozen men were coming toward them from the front door. Buck Sanders wasone of them, Quantrell's trooper another. Their manner looked likebusiness. 

Sanders was the spokesman. "You boys ride for the Flying V Y, don't you?"he asked curtly. 

"We do, " answered Billie, and his voice was just as cold. It had in itthe snap of a whiplash. 

"You came in here to pick trouble with us. Your pardner--Clanton, whatever his name is--gave it out straight that he was goin' to killRoush. "

"He didn't mention you, did he?"

"The Roush brothers were in our party. We ride for the Lazy S M. We don'tmake distinctions. "

"Don't you? Listen, " advised Prince. In five sentences he sketched thecause of the trouble between Jim Clanton and the Roush brothers. "Mybunkie didn't kill any of the Roush clan because they worked for Snaithand McRobert. He shot them for the reason I've just given you. That's hisbusiness. It was a private feud of his own. You heard what was saidbefore the shootin' began, " he concluded. 

"Tha's what you say. You'll tell us, too, that he got Ranse Roush in afair fight. But you've got to show us proof, " Sanders said with a sneer. 

"I expect just now you'll have to take my word and his. I'll tell youthis. Ranse Roush was a renegade. He was ridin' with a bunch of broncobucks. They attacked the Roubideau place an' we rode--Jim an' I did--tohelp Pierre an' his family. We drove the 'Paches off, but they picked upMiss Pauline while she was out ridin' alone. We took after 'em. I gotwounded an' Jim here went up a gulch lickety-split to catch the reddevils. He got four 'Paches an' one hell-hound of a renegade. Is there awhite man here that blames him for it?"

When all is said, the prince of deadly weapons at close range is thehuman eye. Billie was standing beside his friend, one hand restinglightly on his shoulder. The cowpuncher was as lithe and clean of buildas a mastiff, but it was the steady candor of his honest eye that spokemost potently. 

"Naturally you tell a good story, " retorted the foreman with dryincredulity. "It's up to you to come through with an explanation of whyWebb's men have just gunned three of our friends. Your story doesn't makeany hit with me. I don't believe a word of it. "

"You can take it or let it alone. It goes as I've told it, " Prince cutback shortly. 

Another man spoke up. He was a tinhorn gambler of Los Portales and forreasons of his own foregathered with the Snaith-McRobert faction. "Lookhere, young fellow. You may or may not be in this thing deep. I'm willin'to give you the benefit of the doubt if my friends are. I'd hate to seeyou bumped off when you didn't do any of the killin'. All we want isjustice. This is a square town. When bad men go too far we plant 'em onBoot Hill. Understand? Now you slide out of the back door, slap a saddleon your bronc, an' hit the high spots out of here, "

"And Clanton?" asked Billie. 

"We'll attend to Clanton's case, "

A faint smile touched the sardonic face of Prince. "What did you ever seeme do to give you the notion that I was yellow, Bancock?"

"This ain't your affair. You step aside an' let justice--"

"If those that holler for justice loudest had it done to them there wouldbe a lot of squealin' outside of hogpens. "

"You won't take that offer, then?"

"Not this year of our Lord, thank you. "

"You've had your chance. If you turn it down you're liable to go out ofhere feet first. "

Not a muscle twitched in the lean, brown face of the young cowpuncher. "Cut loose whenever you're ready. "

"Hold yore hawsses, friend, " advised the ex-guerrilla, not unkindly. "There's no occasion whatever for you to run on the rope. We are six totwo, countin' the kid, who's got about all he can carry for one day. We're here askin' questions, an' it's reasonable for you to answer 'em. "

"I have answered 'em. I'll answer all you want to ask. But I'd think youwould feel cheap to come kickin' about that fight. My friend fought fair. You know best whether your friends did. He took 'em at odds of two toone, an' at that one of your gunmen hunted cover. What's troublin you, anyhow? Didn't you have all the breaks? Do you want an open an' shutcinch?"

"You're quite a lawyer, " replied Dumont, the man who found the climate ofTexas unhealthy. "I reckon it would take a good one to talk himself outof the hole you're in. "

Billie looked at the man and Dumont decided that he did not have aspeaking part in the scene. He was willing to remain one of the mob. Inpoint of fact, after what he had seen in the last few minutes, he was notat all anxious to force the issue to actual battle. A good strong bluffwould suit him a great deal better. Even odds of six to two were notgood enough considering the demonstration he had witnessed. 

"What is it you want? Another showdown?" asked Clanton unexpectedly. 

Quantrell's man laughed. "I never did see such a fire-eater. "

He turned to his companions. "I told you how it would be. We can't provea thing against the kid except that he was lookin' for a fight an' gotit. He played the hand that was dealt him an' he played it good. I reckonwe'll have to let him go this time, boys. "

"We'll make a mistake if we do, " differed Sanders. 

"You'll make one if you don't, " said Prince pointedly. 

He stood poised, every nerve and muscle set to a hair-trigger for swiftaction. Of those facing him not one of the six but knew they would haveto pay the price before they could exact vengeance for the death of theRoush brothers. 

"What's the use of beefing?" grumbled a one-armed puncher in the rear. "They shot up three of our friends. What more do you want?"

"Don't be in a hurry, Albeen, " advised Billie. "It's easy to startsomething. We all know you burn powder quick. You're a sure-enough badman. But I've got a hunch it's goin' to be your funeral as well as mineif once the band begins to play. "

"That so?" replied Albeen with heavy sarcasm. "You talk like you washoldin' a royal flush, my friend. "

"I'm holdin' a six-full an' Clanton has another. We're sittin' instrong. "

Dumont proposed a compromise. "Why not just arrest 'em an' hold 'em atBluewater till we find whether their story is true?"

"Bring a warrant along before you try that, " Billie countered. "Think wewere born yesterday? No Lazy S M sheriff, judge, an' jury for me, if youplease. "

The old guerrilla nodded. "That's reasonable, too. We haven't got a legto stand on, boys. This young fellow's story may be true an' it may not. All we know is what we've seen. Clanton here took a mighty slim chance ofcomin' through alive when he tackled Dave an' Hugh Roush. I wouldn't havegive a chew of tobacco against a week's pay for it. He fought fair, didn't he? Now he's come through I'll be doggoned if I want to jump onhim again. "

"You're too soft for this country, Reb, " sneered Albeen. "Better go backto Arkansas or wherever you come from. "

"When I get ready. You don't mean right away, Albeen, do you?" demandedthe old-timer sharply. 

"Well, don't hang around all day, " said Prince, his eye full in that ofthe foreman. "Make up your minds whether you want to jump one man an' awounded boy. If you don't mean business I'd like to have a doctor look atmy friend's shoulder. "

Sanders's eyes fell at last before the quiet steadiness of that gaze. With an oath he turned on his heel and strode from the gambling-hall. Hisparty straggled morosely after him. The old raider lingered for a lastword. 

"Take a fool's advice, Prince. There's a gunbarrel road leads out of townfor the north. Hit it pronto. Stay with it till you come up with Webb'sherd. You won't see his dust any too soon. "

"I guess you're right, Reb, " agreed Prince. 

"You know I'm right. Just now you've got the boys bluffed, but it isn'tgoing to last. They'll get busy lappin' up drinks. Quite a crowd of towntoughs will join 'em. By night they'll be all primed up for a lynching. I'd spoil their party if I was you by bein' distant absentees. "

"Soon as I can get Jim's shoulder fixed up we'll be joggin' along if he'sable to travel, " promised Billie. 

"Good enough. And I'd see he was able if it was me. "

Chapter X

Bud Proctor Lends a Hand

After the doctor had dressed the wounded shoulder he ordered Clanton togo to bed at once and stay there. "What he needs is rest, proper food, and sleep. See he gets them. "

"I'll try, " said Billie dryly. "Sometimes a fellow can't sleep when he'sgot a lead pill in him, doctor. Could you give me something to help himforget the pain an' the fever?"

The doctor made up some powders. "One every two hours till he gets tosleep. I'll come and see him in the morning. You're at the Proctor House, aren't you?"

"Yes. "

"Is Roush goin' to live?" asked Jim. 

The professional man looked at the boy speculatively. He wondered whetherthe young fellow was suffering qualms of conscience. Since he did notbelieve in the indiscriminate shooting in vogue on the frontier, he waswilling this youngster should worry a bit. 

"Not one chance for him in a hundred, " he replied brusquely. 

"That's good. I'd hate to have to do it all over again. Have you got themakin's with you, Billie?" Clanton asked evenly. 

"I've got a plain and simple word for such killings, " the doctor said, flushing. "I find it in my Bible. "

"That's where my dad found it too, doctor. "

With which cryptic utterance Clanton led the way out of the office to thehotel. 

Jimmie lay down dressed on the bed of their joint room while his friendwent down to the porch to announce to sundry loafers, from whom the newswould spread over town shortly, that Clanton had gone to sleep and was onno account to be disturbed till morning. 

Later in the afternoon Billie might have been seen fixing a stirrupleather for Bud Proctor, the fourteen-year-old heir of the hotelproprietor. He and the youngster appeared to be having a bully time onthe porch, but it was noticeable that the cowpuncher, for all his mannerof casual carelessness, sat close to the wall in the angle of an L sothat nobody could approach him unobserved. 

In an admiring trance Bud had followed the two friends from the office ofthe doctor. Now he was in the seventh heaven at being taken intofriendship by one of these heroes. At last he screwed up his courage torefer to the affair at Tolleson's. 

"Say, Daniel Boone ain't got a thing on yore friend, has he? Jiminy, I'dlike to go with you both when you leave town. "

Billie spoke severely. "Get that notion right out of your haid, Bud. You're goin' to stay right here at home. I'll tell you another thingwhile we're on that subject. Don't you get to thinkin' that killers arefine people. They ain't. Some of 'em aren't even game. They take allkinds of advantage an' they're a cruel, cold-blooded lot. Never forgetthat. I'm not talkin' about Jim Clanton, understand. He did what hethought he had to do. I don't say he was right. I don't say he was wrong. But I will say that this country would be a whole lot better off if we'dall put our guns away. "

Bud sniffed. "If you hadn't had yore guns this mornin' I'd like to knowwhere you'd 'a' been. "

"True enough. I can't travel unarmed because of Indians an' bad men. What I say is that some day we'll all be brave enough to go without ourhog-legs. I'll be glad when that day comes. "

"An' when you two went up Escondido Cañon after the Mescaleros that hadcaptured Miss Roubideau? I heard Dad Wrayburn tellin' all about it atsupper here one night. Well, what if you hadn't had any guns?" persistedBud. 

"That would have been tough luck, " admitted Prince, holding up theleather to examine his work. "Learn to shoot if you like, Bud, butremember that guns aren't made to kill folks with. They're for buffaloesan' antelope an' coyotes. "

"Didn't you ever kill any one?"

"Haven't you had any bringin' up?" Billie wanted to know indignantly"I've a good mind to put you across my knee an' whale you with thisleather. I've a notion to quit you here an' now. Don't you know betterthan to ask such questions?"

"It--it slipped out, " whimpered Bud. "I'll never do it again. "

"See you don't. Now I'm goin' to give you a chance to make good with mean' my friend, Bud. Can you keep a secret?"

The eyes of the boy began to shine. "Crickey. You just try me, Mr. Prince. "

"All right. I will. But first I must know that you are our friend. "

"Cross my heart an' hope to die. Honest, I am. "

"I believe you, Bud. Well, the Snaith-McRobert outfit intend to lynch mean' my friend to-night. "

The face of the boy became all eyes. He was too astonished to speak. 

"Our only chance is to get out of town. Jim is supposed to be so bad Ican't move him. But if you can find an' saddle horses for us we'll slipout the back door at dusk an' make our get-away. Do you think you can getus horses an' some food without tellin' anybody what for?" asked thecowboy. 

"I'll get yore own horses from the corral. "

"No. That won't do. If you saddled them, that would arouse suspicion atonce. You must bring two horses an' tie 'em to the back fence just as ifyou were goin' ridin' yourself. Then we'll take 'em when you come intothe house. Make the tie with a slip knot. We may be in a hurry. "

"Gee! This beats 'Hal Hiccup, the Boy Demon, '" crowed Bud, referring to afamous hero of Nickel Library fame. "I'll sure get you horses all right. "

"I'll make arrangements to have the horses sent back. Bring 'em roundjust as it begins to get dark an' whistle a bar of 'Yankee Doodle' whenyou get here. Now cut your stick, Bud. Don't be seen near me any more. "

The boy decamped. His face, unable to conceal his excitement at thisblessed adventure which had fallen from heaven upon him, was trying tosay "Golly!" without the use of words. 

During the next hour or two Bud was a pest. Twenty times he askeddifferent men mysteriously what o'clock it was. When he was sent to thestore for pickles he brought back canned tomatoes. Set to weeding onions, he pulled up weeds and vegetables impartially. A hundred times he cast alonging glance at the westering sun. 

So impatient was he that he could not quite wait till dusk. He slippedaround to the Elephant Corral by a back way and picked out two horsesthat suited him. Then he went boldly to the owner of the stable. 

"Mr. Sanders sent me to bring to him that sorrel and the white-foot bay. Said you'd know his saddle. It doesn't matter which of the other saddlesyou use. "

Ten minutes later Bud was walking through the back yard of the hotelwhistling shrilly "Yankee Doodle. " It happened that his father was anex-Confederate and "Dixie" was more to the boy's taste, but he enjoyedthe flavor of the camouflage he was employing. It fitted into his newrole of Bud Proctor, Scout of the Pecos. 

The fugitives slipped down the back stairway of the Proctor House andinto the garden. In another moment they were astride and moving out tothe sparsely settled suburbs of town. 

"Did you notice the brand on the horse you're ridin', Jim?" asked Princewith a grin. 

"Same brand's on your bay, Billie--the Lazy S M. Did you tell that kid tosteal us two horses?"

"No, but you've said it. I'm on the bronc Sanders rides, and you an' Iare horse-thieves now as well as killers. This certainly gets us in bad. "

"I've a notion to turn back yet, " said Jim, with the irritability of asick man. "How in Mexico did he happen to light on Snaith-McRobert stock?Looks like he might have found somethin' else for us. "

"Bud has too much imagination, " admitted Prince ruefully. "I'd bet astack of blues he picked these hawsses on purpose--probably thought itwould be a great joke on Sanders an' his crew. "

"Well, I don't like it. They've got us where they want us now. "

Billie did not like it either. To kill a man on the frontier then in fairfight was a misdemeanor. To steal a horse was a capital offense. Many abronco thief ended his life at the end of a rope in the hands ofrespectable citizens who had in the way of business snuffed out the livesof other respectable citizens. Both of the Flying VY riders knew that ifthey were caught with the stock, it would be of no avail with Sanders toplead that they had no intention of stealing. Possession would be _primafacie_ evidence of guilt. 

"It's too late to go back now, " Prince decided. 

"We'll travel night an' day till we reach the old man an' have him sendthe bones back. I hate to do it, but we have no choice. Anyhow, we mightas well be hanged for stealin' a horse as for anything else. "

They topped a hill and came face to face with a rider traveling townward. His gaze took in the animals carrying the fugitives and jumped tothe face of Billie. In the eyes of the man was an expression blended ofsuspicion and surprise. He passed with a nod and a surly "'Evenin'. "

"Fine luck we're havin', Billie, " commented his friend with a littlelaugh. "I give Sanders twenty minutes to be on our trail. "

Chapter XI

The Fugitives

Through the gathering darkness Prince watched the figure of his companiondroop. The slim, lithe body sagged and the shoulders were heavy withexhaustion. Both small hands clung to the pommel of the saddle. It tookno prophet to see that in his present condition the wounded man wouldnever travel the gun-barrel road as far as the dust of the Flying V Yherd. Even by easy stages he could not do it, and with pursuit thunderingat their heels the ride would be a cruel, grilling one. 

"How about pullin' a little strategy on Sanders, Jim? Instead of hittin'the long trail, let's circle back around the town, strike the river, makecamp, an' lie low in the chaparral. Does that listen good to you?"

Young Clanton looked at his friend suspiciously. The younger man wasfagged out and in a good deal of pain. The jolting of the pony'smovements jarred the bandages on the wound. Already his fever was highand he had moments of light-headedness. He knew that his partner wasproposing to jeopardize his own chances of escape in order to take careof him. 

"No, sir. We'll keep goin' right ahead, " he said irritably. "Think I'm aquitter? Think I'm goin' to lie down on you?"

"Would I be likely to think that?" asked Billie gently. "What I'mthinking is that both of us would be better for a good night's rest. Whynot throw off an' camp in the darkness? While we're sleepin' Sanders an'his posse will be ridin' the hearts out of their horses. It looks likegood business to me to let 'em go to it. "

"No, " said Jim obstinately. "No. We'll keep ridin'. "

Prince knew that the other understood what he was trying to do, and thathis pride--and perhaps something better than pride--would not acceptsuch a sacrifice. Billie said no more, but his mind still wrestled withthe problem before him. It was impossible, while his comrade was so badlyhurt, to hold a pace that would keep them ahead of the Lazy S M riders. Already Sanders must be gaining on them, and to make matters worseClanton drew down to a walk. His high-pitched voice and disjointedexpressions told the older man that he was at the beginning of delirium. 

"What do you mean, standing there and grinnin' at me like a wolf, DaveRoush? I killed you once. You're dead an' buried. How come you aliveagain? Then shoot, both of you! Come out from cover, Hugh Roush. " Hestopped, and took the matter up from another angle. "You're a liar, youcoyote. I'm not runnin' away. Two to one . .. Two to one . .. I'll rideback an' gun you both. I'm a-comin' now. "

He pulled up and turned his horse. Faintly there came to Billie thethudding of horses' hoofs. In five minutes it would be too late to saveeither the sick man or himself. It never occurred to him for a moment todesert Clanton. Somehow he must get him into the chaparral, and withoutan instant's delay. His mind seized on the delirious fancy of the youngfellow. 

"You're sure right, Jim, " he said quietly. "I'd go an' gun them too. I'llride with you an' see fair play. They're out here in the brush. Come on. "

"No. They're back in town. Leave 'em to me. Don't you draw, Billie. "

"All right. But they're over here to our right. I saw 'em there. Come. We'll sneak up on 'em so that they can't run when they hear you. "

Billie turned. He swung his horse into the mesquite. His heart was heavywith anxiety. Would the wounded man accept his lead? Or would hisobstinacy prevail?

"Here they are. Right ahead here, " continued Prince. 

Followed a moment of suspense, then came the crashing of brush as Clantonmoved after him. 

"S-sh! Ride softly, Jim. We don't want 'em to hear us an' get away. "

"Tha's right. Tha's sure right. You said somethin' then, Billie. Butthey'll not get away. Haven't I slept on their trail four years? They'remine at last. "

Prince was drawing him farther from the road. But the danger was not yetover. As the posse passed, some member of it might hear them, or youngClanton might hear it and gallop out to the road under the impression hewas going to meet Dave Roush. Billie twisted in and out of the brush, never for an instant letting his friend pull up. On a moving horse onecannot hear so distinctly as on one standing still. 

At last Billie began to breathe more easily. The pursuers must havepassed before this. He could give his attention to the sick man. 

Jim was clutching desperately to the saddle-horn. The fever was gainingon him and the delirium worse. He talked incessantly, sometimesincoherently. From one subject to another he went, but always he cameback to Dave Roush and his brother. He dared them to stand up and fight. He called on them to stop running, to wait for him. Then he trailed offinto a string of epithets usually ending in sobs of rage. 

The sickness of the young man tore the heart of his companion. Everyinstinct of kindness urged him to stop, make up a bed for the woundedboy, and let him rest from the agony of travel. But he dared not stopyet. He had to keep going till they reached a place of temporary safety. 

With artful promises of immediate vengeance upon his enemies, by means oftaunts at him as a quitter, through urgent proddings that reachedmomentarily the diseased mind, Prince kept him moving through the brush. The sweat stood out on the white face of the young fellow shining ghastlyin the moonlight. 

After what seemed an interminable time they could see from a mesa thelights of Los Portales. Billie left the town well to his right, skirtedthe pastures on the outskirts, and struck the river four miles fartherdown. 

While they were still a long way from it the boy collapsed completely andslid from the saddle to which he had so long clung. His friend uncinchedand freed the sorrel, lifted the slack body to his own horse, and walkedbeside the animal to steady the lurching figure. 

At the bank of the river he stopped and lifted the body to the ground. Itlay limp and slack where the cowpuncher set it down. Through the whiteshoulder dressings a stain of red had soaked. For a moment Billie wasshaken by the fear that the Arizonian might be dead, but he rejected itas not at all likely. Yet when he held his hand against the heart of thewounded man he was not sure that he could detect a beating. 

From the river he brought water in his hat and splashed it into the whiteface. He undid the shoulder bandages, soaked them in cold water, andrebound the wound. Between the clenched teeth he forced a few drops ofwhiskey from his flask. 

The eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. 

"Where are we, Billie?" the sick man asked; then added: "How did we getaway from 'em?"

"Went into the brush an' doubled back to the river. I'm goin' to hunt aplace where we can lie hid for a few days. "

"Oh, I'll be all right by mornin'. Did I fall off my hawss?"

"Yes. I had to turn your sorrel loose. Soon as I've picked a permanentcamp I'll have to let mine go too. Some one would be sure to stumble onit an' go to guessin'. "

After a moment the sick man spoke quietly. "You're a good pal, Billie. Ihaven't known many men would take a long chance like this for a fellowthey hadn't met a month ago. "

"I'm not forgettin' how you rode up Escondido when I asked you to go. "

"You got a lot of sabe, too. You don't go bullin' Into a fight whenthere's a good reason for stayin' out. At Tolleson's if you had drawnyore gun when the shootin' was on, the whole Lazy S M would have pitchedin an' riddled us both. They kept out because you did. That gave me achance to come through alive. "

The Texan registered embarrassment with a grin. "Yes, I'm the boy wonderof the Brazos, " he admitted. 

A faint, unexpected gleam of humor lay for a moment in the eyes of thesick man. "I got you where the wool's short, Billie. I can throw bouquetsat you an' you got to stand hitched because I'm sick. Doc says to humorme. If I holler for the moon you climb up an' get it. "

"I'll rope it for you, " assented the cowpuncher. "How's the gameshoulder?"

"Hurts like Heligoland. Say, ain't I due for one of them sleep powdersDoc fixed up so careful?"

His companion gave him one, after which he folded his coat and put itunder the head of Clanton, Over him he threw a saddle blanket. 

"Back soon, " he promised. 

The sick man nodded weakly. 

Billie swung to the saddle and turned down the river. Unfortunately thecountry here was an open one. Along the sandy shore of the stream themesquite was thin. There was no soapweed and very little cactus. Theterrain of the hill country farther back was rougher, more full ofpockets, and covered with heavier brush. But it was necessary for thefugitives to remain close to water. 

What Prince hoped to find was some sort of cave or overhanging ledge ofshale under which they could lie hidden until Jim's strength returnedsufficiently to permit of travel. The problem would be at best adifficult one. They had little food, scarce dared light a fire, andClanton was in no condition to stand exposure in case the weather grewbad. Even if the boy weathered the sickness, it would not be possible forhim to walk hundreds of miles in his weakened condition. But this was amatter which did not press for an answer. Billie intended to cross nobridges until he came to them. Just now he must focus his mind on keepingthe wounded man alive and out of the hands of his enemies. 

Beyond a bend he came upon a jutting bank that for lack of better mightserve his purpose. He could scoop out a cave in which his partner mightlie protected from the hot midday sun. If he filled the mouth with tumbleweeds during the day they might escape observation for a time. 

When the Texan returned to his friend, he found him in restless slumber. He tossed to and fro, muttering snatches of incoherent talk. The woundseemed to pain him even in his sleep, for he moved impatiently as thoughtrying to throw off some weight lying heavy upon it. 

But when he awoke his mind was apparently clear. He met Billie's anxiouslook with a faint, white-lipped smile. To his friend the young fellow hadthe signs of a very sick man. It was a debatable question whether to riskmoving him now or take the almost hopeless chance of escaping detectionwhere they were. 

Prince put the decision on Jim himself. The answer came feebly, butpromptly. 

"Sure, move me. What's one little--bullet in the shoulder, Billie? Gimmesome sleep--an' I'll be up an' kickin'. "

Yet the older man noticed that his white lips could scarcely findstrength to make the indomitable boast. 

Very gently Billie lifted the wounded man and put him on the back of thecowpony. He held him there and guided the animal through the sand tothe bend. Clanton hung on with clenched teeth, calling on the last ounceof power in his exhausted body with his strong will. 

"Just a hundred yards more, " urged the walking man as they rounded thebend. "We're 'most there now. "

He lifted the slack body down and put it in the sand. The hands of theboy were ice cold. The sap of life was low in him. Prince covered himwith the blankets and his coat. He gave him a sup or two of whiskey, thengathered buffalo chips and made a fire in which he heated some largerocks. These he tucked in beneath the blankets beside the shivering body. Slowly the heat warmed the invalid. After a time he fell once more intotroubled sleep. 

Billie drove his horse away and pelted it with stones to a trot. He couldnot keep it with him without risking discovery, but he was almost as muchafraid that its arrival in Los Portales might start a search for thehidden fugitives. There was always a chance, of course, that the baywould stop to graze on the plains and not be found for a day or two. 

The rest of the night the Texan put in digging a cave with a piece ofslaty shale. The clay of the bank was soft and he made fair progress. Thedirt he scooped out was thrown by him into the river. 

Chapter XII

The Good Samaritan

A girl astride a buckskin pony rode down to the river to water her mount. She carried across the pommel of her saddle a small rifle. Hanging fromthe cantle strings was a wild turkey she had shot. 

It was getting along toward evening and she was on her way back to LosPortales. The girl was a lover of the outdoors and she had been huntingalone. In the clear, amber light of afternoon the smoke of the town rosehigh into the sky, though the trading post itself could not be seen untilshe rounded the bend. 

As her horse drank, a strange thing happened. At a point directlyopposite her a bunch of tumble weeds had gathered against the bank of theshrunken stream. Something agitated them, and from among the brush thehead and shoulders of a man projected. 

Without an instant of delay the girl slipped from the pony and led itbehind a clump of mesquite. Through this she peered intently, watchingevery move of the man, who had by this time come out into the open. Hewent down to the river, filled his hat with water, and disappeared amongthe tumble weeds, gathering them closely to conceal the entrance of hiscave. 

The young woman remounted, rode downstream an eighth of a mile, splashedthrough to the other side, and tied her pony to a stunted live-oak. Riflein hand she crept cautiously along the bank and came to a halt behind acottonwood thirty yards from the cave. Here she waited, patiently, silently, as many a time she had done while stalking the game she wasused to hunting. 

The minutes passed, ran into an hour. The westering sun slid down closeto the horizon's edge. Still the girl held her vigil. At last the brushmoved once more and the man reappeared. His glance swept the landscape, the river-bank, the opposite shore. Apparently satisfied, he came outfrom his hiding-place, and began to gather brush for a fire. 

He was stooped, his back toward her, when the voice of the girl startledhim to rigidity. 

"Hands in the air!"

He did not at once obey. His head turned to see who this Amazon might be. 

"Can't you hear? Reach for the sky!" she ordered sharply. 

She had risen and stepped from behind the tree. He could see that she wasdark, of a full, fine figure, and that her steady black eyes watched himwithout the least fear. The rifle in her hands covered him very steadily. 

His hands went up, but he could not keep a little, sardonic smile fromhis face. The young woman lowered the rifle from her shoulder and movedwarily forward. 

"Lie down on the sand, face to the ground, hands outstretched!" came hernext command. 

Billie did as he was told. A little tug at his side gave notice to himthat she had deftly removed his revolver. 

"Sit up!"

The cowpuncher sat up and took notice. Stars of excitement snapped in theeyes of this very competent young woman. The color beat warmly throughher dark skin. She was very well worth looking at. 

"What's your name?" she demanded. 

"My road brand is Billie Prince, " he answered. 

"Thought so. Where's the other man?"

He nodded toward the cave. 

"Call him out, " she said curtly. 

"I hate to wake him. He's been wounded. All day he's been in a high feverand he's asleep at last. "

For the first time her confidence seemed a little shaken. She hesitated. "Is he badly hurt?"

"He'd get well if he could have proper attention, but a wounded man can'tstand to be jolted around the way he's been since he was shot. "

"Do you mean that you think he's going to die?"

"I don't know. " After a moment he added: "He's mighty sick. "

"He ought never to have left town. "

"Oughtn't he?" said Prince dryly. "If you'll inquire you'll find we had agood reason for leavin'. "

"Well, you're going to have another good reason for going back, " she toldhim crisply. "I'll send a buckboard for him. "

"Aren't you takin' a heap of trouble on our account?" he inquiredironically. 

"That's my business. "

"And mine. Are you the sheriff of Washington County, ma'am?"

A pulse of anger beat in her throat. Her long-lashed eyes flashedimperiously at him. "It doesn't matter who I am. You'll march to town infront of my horse. "

"Maybe so. "

The voice of the sick man began to babble querulously. Both of thoseoutside listened. 

"He's awake, " the girl said. "Bring him out here and let me see him. "

Billie had an instinct that sometimes served him well. He rose promptly. 

"Para sirvir usted" ("At your service"), he murmured. 

"Don't try to start anything. I'll have you covered every second. "

"I believe you. It won't be necessary to demonstrate, ma'am. "

The cowpuncher carried his friend out from the cave and put him downgently in the sand. 

"Why, he's only a boy!" she cried in surprise. 

"He was man enough to go up against half a dozen 'Paches alone to savePauline Roubideau, " Billie said simply. 

She looked up with quick interest. "I've heard that story. Is it true?"

"It's true. And he was man enough to fight it out to a finish against twobad men yesterday. "

"But he can't be more than eighteen. " She watched for a moment the flushof fever in his soft cheeks. "Did he really kill Dave and Hugh Roush?Or was it you?"

"He did it. "

"I hate a killer!" she blazed unexpectedly. 

"Does he look like a killer?" asked Prince gently. 

"No, he doesn't. That makes it worse. "

"Did you know that Dave Roush ruined his sister's life in a fiendishway?"

"I expect there's another side to that story, " she retorted. 

"This boy was fourteen at the time. His father swore him to vengeance an'Jim followed his enemies for years. He never had a doubt but that hewas doin' right. "

She put her rifle down impulsively. "Why don't you keep his face sponged?Bring me water. "

The Texan put his hat into requisition again for a bucket. With herhandkerchief the girl sponged the face and the hands. The cold waterstopped for a moment the delirious muttering of the young man. But thebig eyes that stared into hers did not associate his nurse with thepresent. 

"I done remembered you, 'Lindy, like I promised. I'm a-followin' themscalawags yet, " he murmured. 

"His sister's name was Melindy, " explained Prince. 

The girl nodded. She was rubbing gently the boy's wrist with her wethandkerchief. 

"It's getting dark, " she told Billie in her sharp, decisive way. "Getyour fire lit--a big one. I've got some cooking to do. "

Further orders were waiting for him as soon as he had the camp-firegoing. "You'll find my horse tied to a live-oak down the river a bit. Bring it up. "

Billie smiled as he moved away into the darkness. This imperious girlbelonged, of course, in the camp of the enemy. She had held him up withthe intention of driving them back to town before her in triumph. But shewas, after all, a very tender-hearted foe to a man stricken withsickness. It occurred to the Texan that through her might lie a way ofsalvation for them both. 

Until he saw the turkey the cowpuncher wondered what cooking she couldhave in mind, but while he cantered back through the sand he guessedwhat she meant to do. 

"Draw the turkey. Don't pick it, " she gave instructions. Her own handswere busy trying to make her patient comfortable. 

After he had drawn the bird, which was a young, plump one, he made underdirection of the young woman a cement of mud. This he daubed in athree-inch coating over the turkey, then prepared the fire to make of itan oven. He covered the bird with ashes, raked live coals over these, andpiled upon the red-hot coals piñon knots and juniper boughs. 

"Keep your fire going till about two or three o'clock, then let it dieout. In the morning the turkey will be baked, " the young Diana gaveassurance. 

The cowpuncher omitted to tell her that he had baked a dozen more or lessand knew all about it. 

She rose and drew on her gauntlets in a business-like manner. 

"I'm going home now. After the fever passes keep him warm and let himsleep if he will. "

"Yes, ma'am, " promised Billie with suspicious meekness. 

The girl looked at him sharply, as if she distrusted his humility. Was helaughing at her? Did he dare to find amusement in her?

"I haven't changed my mind about you. Folks that come to town and startkilling deserve all they get. But I'd look after a yellow dog if it wassick, " she said contemptuously, little devils of defiance in her eyes. 

"I'm not questionin' your motives, ma'am, so long as your actions arefriendly, "

"I haven't any use for any of Homer Webb's outfit. He's got no businesshere. If he runs into trouble he has only himself to blame. "

"I'll mention to him that you said so. "

Picking up the rifle, she turned and walked to the horse. There was alittle devil-may-care touch to her walk, just as in her manner, thatsuggested a girl spoiled by over-much indulgence. She was imperious, high-spirited, full of courage and insolence, because her environment hadmoulded her to independence. It was impossible for the young cow puncherto help admiring the girl. 

"I'll be back, " she called over her shoulder. 

The pony jumped to a canter at the touch of her Jaeel. She disappeared ina gallop around the bend. 

Already the fever of the boy was beginning to pass. He shivered with thechill of night. Billie wrapped around him his own coat, a linsey-woolenone lined with yellow flannel. He packed him up in the two blankets andheated stones for his feet and hands. Presently the boy fell into soundsleep for the first time since he was wounded. He had slept before, butalways uneasily and restlessly. Now he did not mutter between clenchedteeth nor toss to and fro. 

His friend accepted it as a good omen. Since he had not slept a winkhimself for forty hours, he lay down before the fire and made himselfcomfortable His eyes closed almost immediately. 

Chapter XIII

A Friendly Enemy

"Law sakes, Miss Bertie Lee, yo' suppah done been ready an hour. Hit suream discommodin' the way you go gallumphin' around. Don't you-all nevahgit tired?"

Aunt Becky was large and black and bulgy. To say that she was fat failsentirely of doing her justice. She overflowed from her clothes in wavesat all possible points. When she moved she waddled. 

Just now she was trying to be cross, but the smile of welcome on thebroad face would have its way. 

"Set down an' rest yo' weary bones, honey. I'll have yo' suppah dished upin no time a-tall. Yore paw was axin' where is you awhile ago. "

"Where's dad?" asked Miss Bertie Lee Snaith carelessly as she flung hergloves on a chair. 

"He done gone down to the store to see if anything been heerd o' themvilyainous killers of Mr. Webb. "

When Bertie Lee returned from washing her hands and face and giving atouch or two to her hair, she sat down and did justice to the friedchicken and biscuits of Aunt Becky. She had had a long day of it and sheate with the keen appetite of youth. 

Her father returned while she was still at the table. He was a big sandyman dressed in a corduroy suit. He was broad of shoulder and his legswere bowed. 

"Any news, dad?" she asked. 

"Not a thing, Lee. I reckon they've made their get-away. They must haveslipped off the road somewhere. The wounded one never could have traveledall night. Maybe we'll git 'em yet. "

"What will you do with them, if you do?"

"Hang 'em to a sour apple tree, " answered Wallace Snaith promptly. 

His daughter made no comment. She knew that her father's resentment wasbased on no abstract love of law and order. It had back of it no feelingthat crime had been committed or justice outraged. The frontier was inits roistering youth, full of such effervescing spirits that life was thecheapest thing it knew. Every few days some unfortunate was buried onBoot Hill, a victim of his own inexpertness with the six-shooter. Thelonghorned cattle of Texas were wearing broad trails to the north and thenorthwest and such towns as Los Portales were on the boom. Chap-cladpunchers galloped through the streets at all hours of the day andnight letting out their joyous "Eee-yip-eee. " The keys of Tolleson's andhalf a dozen other gambling places had long since been lost, for thedoors were never closed to patrons. At games of chance the roof was thelimit, in the expressive phrase of the country. Guns cracked at theslightest difference of opinion. It was bad form to use the word"murder. " The correct way to speak of the result of a disagreement was torefer to it as "a killing. "

Law lay for every man in a holster on his own hip. Snaith recognized thisand accepted it. He was ready to "bend a gun" himself if occasion calledfor it. What he objected to in this particular killing was the personalaffront to him. One of Webb's men had deliberately and defiantly killedtwo of his riders when the town was full of his employees. The man hadwalked into Tolleson's--a place which he, Snaith, practically ownedhimself--and flung down the gauntlet to the whole Lazy S M outfit. It wasa flagrant insult and Wallace Snaith proposed to see that it was avenged. 

"I'm going duck-hunting to-morrow, dad, " Lee told him. "I'll likely be upbefore daylight, but I'll try not to disturb you. If you hear merummaging around in the pantry, you'll know what for. "

He grunted assent, full of the grievance that was rankling in his mind. Lee came and went as she pleased. She was her own mistress and he made noattempt to chaperon her activities. 

The light had not yet begun to sift into the sky next morning when Leedressed and tiptoed to the kitchen. She carried saddlebags with her andinto the capacious pockets went tea, coffee, flour, corn meal, a flask ofbrandy, a plate of cookies, and a slab of bacon. An old frying-pan and asmall stew kettle joined the supplies; also a little package of "yerb"medicine prepared by Aunt Becky as a specific for fevers. 

Lee walked through the silent, pre-dawn darkness to the stable andsaddled her pony, blanketing and cinching as deftly as her father couldhave done it. With her she carried an extra blanket for the wounded man. 

The gray light of dawn was beginning to sift into the sky when shereached the camp of the fugitives. Prince came forward to meet her. Shesaw that the fire was now only a bed of coals from which no smoke wouldrise to betray them. 

The girl swung from the saddle and gave a little jerk of her head towardClanton. 

"How is he?"

"Slept like a log all night. Feels a heap better this mo'nin'. Wants toknow if he can't have somethin' to eat. "

"I killed a couple of prairie plover on the way. We'll make some soup forhim. "

The girl walked straight to her patient and looked down at him withdirect and searching eyes. She found no glaze of fever in the ones thatgazed back into hers. 

"Hungry, are you?"

"I could eat a mail sack, ma'am. "

She stripped the gauntlets from her hands and set about making breakfast. Jim watched her with alert interest. He was still weak, but life thismorning began to renew itself in him. The pain and the fever had gone andleft him at peace with a world just emerging from darkness into a rosilyflushed dawn. Not the least attractive feature of it was this stunning, dark-eyed girl who was proving such a friendly enemy. 

Her manner to Billie was crisp and curt. She ordered him to fetch andcarry. Something in his slow drawl--some hint of hidden amusement inhis manner--struck a spark of resentment from her quick eye. But towardJim she was all kindness. No trouble was too much to take for hiscomfort. If he had a whim it must be gratified. Prince was merely aservant to wait upon him. 

The education of Jim Clanton was progressing. As he ate his plover brothhe could not keep his eyes from her. She was so full of vital life. Thecolor beat through her dark skin warm and rich. The abundant blue-blackhair, the flashing eyes, the fine poise of the head, the little jauntyswagger of her, so wholly a matter of unconscious faith in her place inthe sun: all of these charmed and delighted him. He had never dreamed ofa girl of such spirit and fire. 

It was inevitable that both he and Billie should recall by contrastanother girl who had given them generously of her service not long since. There were in the country then very few women of any kind. Certainlywithin a radius of two hundred miles there was no other girl so popularand so attractive as these two. Many a puncher would have been willing tobreak an arm for the sake of such kindness as had been lavished uponthese boys. 

By sunup the three of them had finished breakfast. Billie put out thefire and scattered the ashes in the river. He went into a committee ofways and means with Lee Snaith just before she returned to town. 

"You can't stay here long. Some one is sure to stumble on you just as Idid. What plan have you to get away?"

"If I could get our horses in three or four days mebbe Jim could make outto ride a little at a time. "

"He couldn't--and you can't get your horses, " she vetoed. 

"Then I'll have to leave him, steal another horse, and ride through toWebb for help. "

"No. You mustn't leave him. I'll see if I can get a man to take a messageto your friends. "

A smile came out on his lean, strong face. "You're a good friend. "

"I'm no friend of yours, " she flashed back. "But I won't have my fatherspoiling the view by hanging you where I might see you when I ride. "

"You're Wallace Snaith's daughter, I reckon. "

"Yes. And no man that rides for Homer Webb can be a friend of mine. "

"Sorry. Anyhow, you can't keep me from being mighty grateful to mylittlest enemy. "

He did not intend to smile, but just a hint of it leaped to his eyes. Sheflushed angrily, suspecting that he was mocking her, and swung her ponytoward town. 

On the way she shot a brace of ducks for the sake of appearances. Thecountry was a paradise for the hunter. On the river could be found greatnumbers of ducks, geese, swans, and pelicans. Of quail and prairiechicken there was no limit. Thousands of turkeys roosted in the timberthat bordered the streams. There were times when the noise of pigeonsreturning to their night haunt was like thunder and the sight of themalmost hid the sky. Bands of antelope could be seen silhouetted againstthe skyline. As for buffalo, numbers of them still ranged the plains, though the day of their extinction was close at hand. No country in theworld's history ever offered such a field for the sportsman as theSouthwest did in the days of the first great cattle drives. 

Miss Bertie Lee dismounted at a store which bore the sign

SNAITH & McROBERTGeneral Merchandise

Though a large building, it was not one of the most recent in town. Itwas what is known as a "dugout" in the West, a big cellar roofed over, with side walls rising above the level of the ground. In a country wheretimber was scarce and the railroad was not within two hundred miles, asod structure of this sort was the most practicable possible. 

The girl sauntered in and glanced carelessly about her. Two or threechap-clad cowboys were lounging against the counter watching another buya suit of clothes. The wide-brimmed hats of all of them came offinstantly at sight of her. The frontier was rampantly lawless, butnowhere in the world did a good woman meet with more unquestioningrespect. 

"What's this hyer garment?" asked the brick-red customer of the clerk, holding up the waistcoat that went with the suit. 

"That's a vest, " explained the salesman. "You wear it under the coat. "

"You don't say!" The vaquero examined the article curiously anddisdainfully. "I've heard tell of these didoes, but I never did see onebefore. Well, I'll take this suit. Wrap it up. You keep the vestproposition and give it to a tenderfoot. "

No cowpuncher ever wore a waistcoat. The local dealers of the Southwesthad been utterly unable to impress this fact upon the mind of the Easternmanufacturer. The result was that every suit came in three parts, one ofwhich always remained upon the shelf of the store. Some of the supplymerchants had several thousand of these articles de luxe in their stock. In later years they gave them away to Indians and Mexicans. 

"Do you know where Jack Goodheart is?" asked Lee of the nearest youth. 

"No, ma'am, but I'll go hunt him for you, " answered the puncher promptly. 

"Thank you. "

Ten minutes later a bronzed rider swung down in front of the Snaith home. Miss Bertie Lee was on the porch. 

"You sent for me, " he said simply. 

"Do you want to do something for me?"

"Try me. "

"Will you ride after Webb's outfit and tell him that two of his men arein hiding on the river just below town. One of them is wounded and can'tsit a horse. So he'd better send a buckboard for him. Let Homer Webb knowthat if dad or Sanders finds these men, the cottonwoods will be bearing anew kind of fruit. Tell him to burn the wind getting here. The men are ina cave on the left-hand side of the river going down. It is just belowthe bend. "

Jack Goodheart did not ask her how she knew this or what difference itmade to her whether Webb rescued his riders or not. He said, "I'll be onthe road inside of twenty minutes. "

Goodheart was a splendid specimen of the frontiersman. He was the bestroper in the country, of proved gameness, popular, keen as an Italianstiletto, and absolutely trustworthy. Since the first day he had seen herJack had been devoted to the service of Bertie Lee Snaith. No dog couldhave been humbler or less critical of her shortcomings. The girl despisedhis wooing, but she was forced to respect the man. As a lover she had nouse for Goodheart; as a friend she was always calling upon him. 

"I knew you'd go, Jack, " she told him. 

"Yes, I'd lie down and make of myself a door-mat for you to trample on, "he retorted with a touch of self-contempt. "Would you like me to do itnow?"

Lee looked at him in surprise. This was the first evidence he had evergiven that he resented the position in which he stood to her. 

"If you don't want to go I'll ask some one else, " she replied. 

"Oh, I'll go. "

He turned and strode to his horse. For years he had been her faithfulcavalier and he knew he was no closer to his heart's desire than when hebegan to serve. The first faint stirrings of rebellion were moving inhim. It was not that he blamed her in the least. She was scarcelynineteen, the magnet for the eyes of all the unattached men in thedistrict. Was it reasonable to suppose that she would give her love to apenniless puncher of twenty-eight, lank as a shad, with no recommendationbut honesty? None the less, Jack began to doubt whether eternal patiencewas a virtue. 

Chapter XIV

The Gun-Barrel Road

Jack Goodheart followed the gun-barrel road into a desert green andbeautiful with vegetation. Now he passed a blooming azalea or a yuccawith clustering bellflowers. The prickly pear and the cat-claw clutchedat his chaps. The arrowweed and the soapweed were everywhere, as was alsothe stunted creosote. The details were not lovely, but in the sunsetlight of late afternoon the silvery sheen of the mesquite had its owncharm for the rider. 

Back of the saddle he carried a "hot roll" of blankets and supplies, forhe would have to camp out three or four nights. Flour, coffee, and a canof tomatoes made the substance of his provisions. His rifle would bringhim all the meat he needed. The one he used was a seventy-three becausethe bullets fired from it fitted the cylinder of his forty-four revolver. 

Solitude engulfed him. Once a mule deer stared at him in surprise from anescarpment back of the mesa. A rattlesnake buzzed its ominous warning. 

He left the road to follow the broad trail made by the Flying V Y herd. Ahorizon of deep purple marked the afterglow of sunset and preceded adesert night of stars. Well into the evening he rode, then hobbled hishorse before he built a camp-fire. 

Darkness was still thick over the plains when he left the buffalo wallowin which he had camped. All day he held a steady course northward tillthe stars were out again. Late the next afternoon he struck the dust ofthe drag in the ground swells of a more broken country. 

The drag-driver directed Goodheart to the left point. He found there twomen, One of them--Dad Wrayburn--he knew. The other was a man of sandycomplexion, hard-faced, and fishy of eye. 

"Whad you want?" the second demanded. 

"I want to see Webb. "

"Can't see him. He ain't here. "

"Where is he?"

"He's ridden on to the Fort to make arrangements for receiving the herd, "answered the man sulkily. 

"Who's the big auger left?"

"I'm the foreman, if that's what you mean?"

"Well, I've come to tell you that two of yore men are hidin' in thechaparral below Los Portales. There was trouble at Tolleson's. Two of theLazy S M men were gunned an' one of yours was wounded. "

"Which one was wounded?"

"I heard his name was Clanton. "

"Suits me fine, " grinned the foreman, showing two rows of broken, stainedteeth. "Hope the Lazy S M boys gunned him proper. "

Dad Wrayburn broke in softly. "Chicto, compadre!" ("Hush, partner!") Heturned to Goodheart. "The other man with Clanton must be Billie Prince. "

"Yes. "

"I reckon the Lazy S M boys are lookin' for 'em. "

"You guessed right first crack out of the box. "

"Where are our boys holed up?"

"In a cave the other side of town. They're just beyond the big bend ofthe river. I'll take you there. "

"You've seen 'em. "

"No. " Goodheart hesitated just a moment before he went on. "I was sent bythe person who has seen 'em. "

"Listens to me like a plant, " jeered Yankie. 

"Meanin' that I'm a liar?" asked Goodheart coldly. 

"I wasn't born yesterday. Come clean. Who is yore friend that saw theboys?"

"I can't tell you that. "

"Then yore story doesn't interest me a whole lot. "

"Different here, " dissented Wrayburn. "Do you know how badly Clanton ishurt, Jack?"

"No. He was able to ride out of town, but my friend told me to say hewasn't able to ride now. You'll have to send a wagon for him. "

Wrayburn turned to the foreman. "Joe, we've got to go back an' help theboys. "

"Not on yore topknot, Dad. I'm here to move these beeves along to theFort. Prince an' that Clanton may have gone on a tear an' got intotrouble or they may not. I don't care a plugged nickel which way it is. I'm not keepin' herd on them, an' what's more I don't intend to. "

"We can't leave 'em thataway. Dad gum it, we got to stand by the boys, Joe. That's what Webb would tell us if he was here. "

"But he ain't here, Dad. An' while he's gone I'm major-domo of thisoutfit. We're headed north, not south. "

"You may be. I'm not. An' I reckon you'll find several of the boys gotthe same notion I have. I taken a fancy to both those young fellows, an'if I hadn't I'd go help 'em just the same. "

"You ain't expectin' to ride our stock on this fool chase, are you?"

"I'll ride the first good bronc I get my knees clamped to, Joe. "

"As regards that, you'll get my answer like shot off'n a shovel. None ofthe Flyin' V Y remuda is goin'. "

Wrayburn cantered around the point of the herd to the swing, from theswing back to the drag, and then forward to the left point. In thecircuit he had stopped to sound out each rider. 

"We all have decided that ten of us will go back, Joe, " he announcedserenely. "That leaves enough to loose-herd the beeves whilst we'reaway. "

Yankie grew purple with rage. "If you go you'll walk. I'll show you who'sforeman here. "

"No use raisin' a rookus, Joe, " replied the old Confederate mildly. "We're goin'. Yore authority doesn't stretch far enough to hold us here. "

"I'll show you!" stormed the foreman. "Some of you will go to sleep insmoke if you try to take any of my remuda. "

"Now don't you-all be onreasonable, Joe. We got to go. Cayn't you get itthrough yore cocoanut that we've got to stand by our pardners?"

"That killer Clanton is no pardner of mine. I meant to burn powder withhim one of these days myself. If Wally Snaith beats me to it I'm notgoin' to wear black, " retorted Yankie. 

"Sho! The kid's got good stuff in him. An' nobody could ask for a squarerpal than Billie Prince. You know that yore own self. "

"You heard what I said, Dad. The Flyin' V Y horses don't take the backtrail to-day, " insisted the foreman stubbornly. 

The wrinkled eyes of Wrayburn narrowed a little. He looked straight atYankie. 

"Don't get biggety, Joe. I'm not askin' you or any other man whether Ican ride to rescue a friend when he's in trouble. You don't own thesebroncs, an' if you did we'd take 'em just the same. "

The voice of Wrayburn was still gentle, but it no longer pleaded forunderstanding. The words were clean-cut and crisp. 

"I'll show you!" flung back the foreman with an oath. 

When the little group of cavalry was gathered for the start, Yankie, rifle in hand, barred the way. His face was ugly with the fury of hisanger. 

Dad Wrayburn rode forward in front of his party. "Don't git promiscuouswith that cannon of yours, Joe. You've done yore level best to keep ushere. But we're goin' just the same. We-all will tell the old man howtender you was of his remuda stock. That will let you out. "

"Don't you come another step closeter, Dad Wrayburn!" the foremanshouted. "I'll let you know who is boss here. "

Wrayburn did not raise his voice. The drawl in it was just as pronounced, but every man present read in it a warning. 

"This old sawed-off shotgun of mine spatters like hell, Joe. It alwaysdid shoot all over the United States an' Texas. "

There was an instant of dead silence. Each man watched the otherintently, the one cool and determined, the other full of a volcanic fury. The curtain had been rung up for tragedy. 

A man stepped between them, twirling carelessly a rawhide rope. 

"Just a moment, gentlemen. I think I know a way to settle this withoutbloodshed. " Jack Goodheart looked first at the ex-Confederate, then atthe foreman. He was still whirling as if from absent-minded habit theloop of his reata. 

"We're here to listen, Jack. That would suit me down to the ground, "answered Wrayburn. 

The loop of the lariat snaked forward, whistled through the air, droppedover the head of Yankie, and tightened around his neck. A shot wentwildly into the air as the rifle was jerked out of the hands of itsowner, who came to the earth with sprawling arms. Goodheart ran forwardswiftly, made a dozen expert passes with his fingers, and rose without aword. 

Yankie had been hog-tied by the champion roper of the Southwest. 

Chapter XV

Lee Plays a Leading Rôle

A man on horseback clattered up the street and drew up at the Snaithhouse. He was a sandy-complexioned man with a furtive-eyed, apologeticmanner. Miss Bertie Lee recognized him as one of the company riders namedDumont. 

"Is yore paw home, Miss Lee?" he asked breathlessly. 

"Some one to see you, dad, " called the girl over her shoulder. 

Wallace Snaith sauntered out to the porch. "'Lo, Dumont!"

"I claim that hundred dollars reward. I done found 'em, Mr. Snaith. "

Lee, about to enter the house, stopped in her tracks. 

"Where?" demanded the cattleman jubilantly. 

"Down the river--hid in a dugout they done built. I'll take you-allthere. "

"I knew they couldn't be far away when that first hawss came in allblood-stained. Hustle up four or five of the boys, Dumont. Get 'em hereon the jump. " In the face of the big drover could be read a grim elation. 

His daughter confronted him. "What are you going to do, dad?"

"None o' yore business, Lee. You ain't in this, " he answered promptly. 

"You're going out to kill those men, " she charged, white to the lips. 

"They'll git a trial if they surrender peaceable. "

"What kind of a trial?" she asked scornfully. "They know better than tosurrender. They'll fight. "

"That'll suit me too. "

"Don't, dad. Don't do it, " the girl begged. "They're game men. Theyfought fair. I've made inquiries. You mustn't kill them like wolves. "

"Mustn't I?" he said stubbornly. "I reckon that's just what I'm goin' todo. I'll learn Homer Webb to send his bad men to Los Portales lookin'for trouble. He can't kill my riders an' get away with it. "

"You know he didn't do that. This boy--Clanton, if that's his name--had afeud with the Roush family. One of them betrayed his sister. Far as I canfind out these Roush brothers were the scum of the earth, " Her bosom roseand fell fast with excitement. 

"Howcome you to know so much about it, girl? Not that it makes anydifference. They may have been hellhounds, but they were my riders. Thesegunmen went into my own place an' shot 'em down. They picked the fight. There's no manner o' doubt about that. "

"They didn't do it on your account. I tell you there was an old feud. "

"Webb thinks he's got the world by the tail for a downhill pull. I'llshow him. "

"Dad, you're starting war. Don't you see that? If you shoot these menhe'll get back by killing some of yours. And so it will go on. "

"I reckon. But I'm not startin' the war. He did that. It was the boldestpiece of cheek I ever heard tell of--those two gunmen goin' intoTolleson's and shootin' up my riders. They got to pay the price. "

Lee cried out in passionate protest. "It'll be just plain murder, dad. That's all. "

"What's got into you, girl?" he demanded, seizing her by the arms. Thechill of anger and suspicion filmed his light-blue eyes. "I won't standfor this kind of talk. You go right into the house an' 'tend to yore ownknittin'. I've heard about enough from you. "

He swung her round by the shoulders and gave a push. 

Lee did not go to her room and fling herself upon the bed in an impotentstorm of tears. She stood thinking, her little fists clenched and hereyes flashing. Civilization has trained women to feebleness of purpose, but this girl stood outside of conventional viewpoints. It was her habitto move directly to the thing she wanted. Her decision was swift, theaction following upon it immediate. 

She lifted her rifle down from the deer-horn rack where it rested andbuckled the ammunition belt around her waist. Swiftly she ran to thecorral, roped her bronco, saddled it, and cinched. As she galloped awayshe saw her father striding toward the stable. His shout reached her, butshe did not wait to hear what he wanted. 

The hoofs of her pony drummed down the street. She flew across the desertand struck the river just below town. The quirt attached to her wristrose and fell. She made no allowance for prairie-dog holes, but went atracing speed through the rabbit weed and over the slippery salt-grassbumps. 

In front of the cave she jerked the horse to a halt. 

"Hello, in there!"

The tumble weeds moved and the head of Prince appeared. He pushed thebrush aside and came out. 

"Buenos tardes, señorita. Didn't know you were comin' back again to-day. "

"You've been seen, " she told him hurriedly as she dismounted. "Dad'sgathering his men. He means to make you trouble. "

Billie looked away in the direction of the town. A mile or more away hesaw a cloud of dust. It was moving toward them. 

"I see he does, " he answered quietly. 

"Quick! Get your friend out. Take my horse. "

He shook his head slowly. "No use. They would see us an' run us down. We'll make a stand here. "

"But you can't do that. They'll surround you. They'll send for more menif they need 'em. "

"Likely. But Jim couldn't stand such a ride even if there was achance--and there isn't, not with yore horse carryin' double. We'llhold the fort, Miss Lee, while you make yore get-away into the hills. An' thank you for comin'. We'll never forget all you've done for usthese days. "

"I'm not going. "

"Not goin'?"

"I'm going to stay right here. They won't dare to shoot at you if I'mhere. "

"I never did see such a girl as you, " admitted Prince, smiling at her. "You take the cake. But we can't let you do that for us. We can't skulkbehind a young lady's skirts to save our hides. It's not etiquette on thePecos. "

The red color burned through her dusky skin. "I'm not doing it for you, "she said stiffly. "It's dad I'm thinking about. I don't want him mixedup in such a business. I won't have it either. "

"You'd better go to him and talk it over, then. "

"No. I'll stay here. He wouldn't listen to me a minute. "

Billie was still patient with her. "I don't think you'd better stay, MissLee. I know just how you feel. But there are a lot of folks won'tunderstand howcome you to take up with yore father's enemies. They'lltalk a lot of foolishness likely. "

The cowpuncher blushed at his own awkward phrasing of the situation, yetthe thing had to be said and he knew no other way to say it. 

She flashed a resentful glance at him. Her cheeks, too, flamed. 

"I don't care what they say since it won't be true, " she answeredproudly. "You needn't argue. I've staked out a claim here. "

"I wish you'd go. There's still time. "

The girl turned on him angrily with swift, animal grace. "I tell you it'snone of your business whether I go or stay. I'll do just as I please. "

Prince gave up his attempt to change her mind. If she would stay, shewould. He set about arranging the defense. 

Young Clanton crept out to the mouth of the cave and lay down with hisrifle beside him. His friend piled up the tumble weeds in front of him. 

"We're right enough in front--easy enough to stand 'em off there, "reflected Billie, aloud. "But I'd like to know what's to prevent us frombeing attacked in the rear. They can crawl up through the brush tillthey're right on top of the bank. They can post sharpshooters in themesquite across the river so that if we come out to check those snakin'forward, the snipers can get us. "

"I'll sit on the bank above the cave and watch 'em, " announced Lee. 

"An' what if they mistook you for one of us?" asked Prince dryly. 

"They can't, with me wearing a red coat. "

"You're bound to be in this, aren't you?" His smile was more friendlythan the words. It admitted reluctant admiration of her. 

The party on the other side of the river was in plain sight now. Jimcounted four--five--six of them as they deployed. Presently Prince threwa bullet into the dust at the feet of one of the horses as they movedforward. It was meant as a warning not to come closer and accepted asone. 

After a minute of consultation a single horseman rode to the bank of thestream. 

"You over there, " he shouted. 

"It's dad, " said Lee. 

"You'd better surrender peaceable. We've come to git you alive or dead, "shouted Snaith. 

"What do you want us for?" asked Prince. 

"You know well enough what for. You killed one of my punchers. "

Clanton groaned. "Only one?"

"An' another may die any day. Come out with yore hands up. "

"We'd rather stay here, thank you, " Billie called back. 

Snaith leaned forward in the saddle. "Is that you over there, Lee?"

"Yes, dad. "

"Gone back on yore father and taken up with Webb's scalawags, have you?"

"No, I haven't, " she called back. "But I'm going to see they get fairplay. "

"You git out of there, girl, and on this side of the river!" Snaithroared angrily. "Pronto! Do you hear?"

"There's no use shouting yourself hoarse, dad. I can hear you easily, andI'm not coming. "

"Not comin'! D'ye mean you've taken up with a pair of killers, of outlawswe 're goin' to put out of business? You talk like a--like a--"

"Go slow, Snaith!" cut in Prince sharply. "Can't you see she's tryin' tosave you from murder?"

"We're goin' to take those boys back to Los Portales with us--or theirbodies. I don't care a whole lot which. You light a shuck out of there, Lee. "

"No, " she answered stubbornly. "If you're so bent on shooting at some oneyou can shoot at me. "

The cattleman stormed and threatened, but in the end he had to give upthe point. His daughter was as obstinate as he was. He retired involcanic humor. 

"I never could get dad to give up swearing, " his daughter told her newfriends by way of humorous apology. "Wonder what he'll do now. "

"Wait till night an' drive us out of our hole, I expect, " replied Prince. 

"Will he wait? I'm not so sure of that, " said Jim. "See. His men arescattering. They're up to somethin'. "

"They're going down to cross the river to get behind us just as you saidthey would, " predicted Lee. 

She was right. Half an hour later, from her position on the bank abovethe cave, she caught a glimpse of a man slipping forward through thebrush. She called to Prince, who crept out from behind the tumble weedsto join her. A bullet dug into the soft clay not ten inches from hishead. He scrambled up and lay down behind a patch of soapweed a few yardsfrom the girl. Another bullet from across the river whistled past thecowpuncher. 

Lee rose and walked across to the bushes where he lay crouched. Verydeliberately she stood there, shading her eyes from the sun as she lookedtoward the sharpshooters. Twice they had taken a chance, because of thedistance between her and Prince. She intended they should know how closeshe was to him now. 

Billie could not conceal his anxiety for her. "Why don't you get backwhere you were? I got as far as I could from you on purpose. What's thesense of you comin' right up to me when you see they're shootin' at me?"

"That's why I came up closer. They'll have to stop it as long as I'mhere. "

"You can't stay there the rest of yore natural life, can you?" heasked with manifest annoyance. Even if he got out of his present dangeralive--and Billie had to admit to himself that the chances did not lookgood--he knew it would be cast up to him some day that he had used LeeSnaith's presence as a shield against his enemies. "Why don't you actreasonable an' ride back to town, like a girl ought to do? You've been agood friend to us. There's nothin' more you can do. It's up to us tofight our way out. "

He took careful aim and fired. A man in the bushes two hundred yards backof them scuttled to his feet and ran limping off. Billie covered thedodging man with his rifle carefully, then lowered his gun withoutfiring. 

"Let him go, " said Prince aloud. "Mr. Dumont won't bother us a whole lot. He's gun-shy anyhow. "

From across the river came a scatter of bullets. 

"They've got to hit closeter to that before they worry me, " Jim called tothe two above. 

"I don't think they shot to hit. They're tryin' to scare Miss Lee away, "called down Billie. 

"As if I didn't know dad wouldn't let 'em take any chances with me here, "the girl said confidently "If we can hold out till night I can stay hereand keep shooting while you two slip away and hide. Before morning yourfriends ought to arrive. "

"If they got yore message. "

"Oh, they got it. Jack Goodheart carried it. "

The riflemen across the river were silent for a time. When they begansniping again, it was from such an angle that they could aim at the cavewithout endangering those above. Both Clanton and Prince returned thefire. 

Presently Lee touched on the shoulder the man beside her. 

"Look!"

She pointed to a cloud of smoke behind them. From it tongues of fireleaped up into the air. Farther to the right a second puff of smoke couldbe seen, and beyond it another and still a fourth jet. 

After a moment of dead silence Prince spoke. "They've fired the prairie. The wind is blowin' toward us. They mean to smoke us out. "

"Yes. "

"We'll be driven down into the open bed of the river where they can pickus off. "

The girl nodded. 

"Now, will you leave us?" Billie turned on her triumphantly. He could atleast choose the conditions of the last stand they must make. "They'vecalled our bluff. It's a showdown. "

"Now I'll go less than ever, " she said quietly. 

Chapter XVI

Three Modern Musketeers

The fierce crackling of the flames rolled toward them. The wind served atleast the one purpose of lifting the smoke so that it did not stiflethose on the river-bank. Clanton crept up from the cave and joined them. 

"Looks like we're goin' out with fireworks, Billie, " he grinned. 

"That's nonsense, " said Lee sharply. "There's a way of escape, if only wecan find it. "

"Blamed if I see it, " the young fellow answered. As he looked at her theeyes in his pale face glowed. "But I see one thing. You're the bestlittle pilgrim that ever I met up with. "

The heat of the flames came to them in waves. 

"You walk out, climb on yore horse, an' ride down the river, Miss Lee. Then we'll make a break for cover. You can't do anything more for us, "insisted Prince. 

"That's right, " agreed the younger man. "We'll play this out alone. Youcut yore stick an' drift. If we git through I'll sure come back an' thankyou proper some day. "

Recently Lee had read "The Three Musketeers. " From it there flashed toher a memory of the picture on the cover. 

"I know what we'll do, " she said, coughing from a swallow of smoke. Shestepped between them and tucked an arm under the elbow of each. "Allfor one, and one for all. Forward march!"

They moved down the embankment side by side to the sand-bed close to thestream, each of the three carrying a rifle tucked close to the side. Fromthe chaparral keen eyes watched them, covering every step they took withready weapons. Miss Lee's party turned to the right and followed theriver-bed in the direction of Los Portales. For the wind was driving thefire down instead of up. Those in the mesquite held a parallel course tocut off any chance of escape. 

Some change of wind currents swept the smoke toward them in greatbillows. It enveloped the fugitives in a dense cloud. 

"Get yore head down to the water, " Billie called into the ear of thegirl. 

They lay on the rocks in the shallow water and let the black smoke wavespour over them. Lee felt herself strangling and tried to rise, but aheavy hand on her shoulder held her face down. She sputtered and coughed, fighting desperately for breath. A silk handkerchief was slipped over herface and knotted behind. She felt sick and dizzy. The knowledge flashedacross her mind that she could not stand this long. In its wake cameanother dreadful thought. Was she going to die?

The hand on her shoulder relaxed. Lee felt herself lifted to her feet. She caught at Billie's arm to steady herself, for she was still queer inthe head. For a few moments she stood there coughing the smoke out of herlungs. His arm slipped around her shoulder. 

"Take yore time, " he advised. 

A second shift of the breeze had swept the smoke away. This had savedtheir lives, but it had also given Snaith's men another chance at them Abullet whistled past the head of Clanton, who was for the time a fewyards from his friends. Instantly he whipped the rifle up and fired. 

"No luck" he grumbled. "My eyes are sore from the smoke. I can't halfsee. "

Lee was not yet quite herself. The experience through which she had justpassed had shaken her nerves. 

"Let's get out of here quick!" she cried. 

"Take yore time. There's no hurry, " Prince iterated. "They won't shootagain, now Jim's close to us. "

The younger man grinned, as he had a habit of doing when the cards fellagainst him. "Where'd we go? Look, they've headed us off. We can'ttravel forward. We can't go back. I expect we'll have to file on thequarter-section where we are, " he drawled. 

A rider had galloped forward and was dismounting close to the river. Hetook shelter behind a boulder. 

Billie swept with a glance the plain to their right. A group of horsemenwas approaching. "More good citizens comin' to be in at the finish ofthis man hunt. They ought to build a grand stand an' invite the wholetown, " he said sardonically. 

A water-gutted arroyo broke the line of liver-bank. Jim, who was limpingheavily, stopped and examined it. 

"Let's stay here, Billie, an' fight it out. No use foolin' ourselves. We're trapped. Might as well call for a showdown here as anywhere. "

Prince nodded. "Suits me. We'll make our stand right at the head of thearroyo. " He turned abruptly to the girl. "It's got to be good-bye here, Miss Lee. "

"That's whatever, littlest pilgrim, " agreed Clanton promptly. "If you geta chance send word to Webb an' tell him how it was with us. "

Her lip trembled. She knew that in the shadow of the immediate future redtragedy lurked. She had done her best to avert it and had failed. Thevery men she was trying to save had dismissed her. 

"Must I go?" she begged. 

"You must, Miss Lee. We're both grateful to you. Don't you ever doubtthat!" Billie said, his earnest gaze full in hers. 

The girl turned away and went up through the sand, her eyes filmed withtears so that she could not see where she was going. The two men enteredthe arroyo. Before they reached the head of it she could hear the crackof exploding rifles. One of the men across the river was firing at themand they were throwing bullets back at him. She wondered, shivering, whether it was her father. 

It must have been a few seconds later that she heard the joyous"Eee-yip-eee!" of Prince. Almost at the same time a rider came splashingthrough the shallow water of the river toward her. 

The man was her father. He swung down from the saddle and snatched herinto his arms. His haggard face showed her how anxious he had been. Shebegan to sob, overcome, perhaps, as much by his emotion as her own. 

"I'll blacksnake the condemned fool that set fire to the prairie!" heswore, gulping down a lump in his throat. "Tell me you-all aren't hurt, Bertie Lee. .. . God! I thought you was swallowed up in that fire. "

"Daddie, daddie I couldn't help it. I had to do it, " she wept. "And--Ithought I would choke to death, but Mr. Prince saved me. He kept myface close to the water and made me breathe through a handkerchief. "

"Did he?" The man's face set grimly again. "Well, that won't save him. Asfor you, miss, you're goin' to yore room to live on bread an' waterfor a week. I wish you were a boy for about five minutes so's I couldwear you to a frazzle with a cowhide. "

Snaith's intentions toward Clanton and Prince had to be postponed for thepresent, the cattleman discovered a few minutes later. When he and Leeemerged from the river-bed to the bank above, the first thing he saw wasa group of cowpunchers shaking hands gayly with the two fugitives. Hisjaw dropped. 

"Where in Mexico did they come from?" he asked himself aloud. 

"I expect they're Webb's riders, " his daughter answered with a little sobof joy. "I thought they'd never come. "

"You thought. .. . How did you know they were comin'?"

"Oh, I sent for them, " The girl's dark eyes met his fearlessly. A flickerof a smile crept into them. "I've had the best of you all round, dad. You'd better make that two weeks on bread and water. "

Wallace Snaith gathered his forces and retreated from the field ofbattle. A man on a spent horse met him at his own gate as he dismounted. He handed the cattleman a note. 

On the sheet of dirty paper was written:

The birds you want are nesting in a dugout on the river four miles belowtown. You got to hurry or they'll be flown. 

J. Y. 

Snaith read the note, tore it in half, and tossed the pieces away. Heturned to the messenger. 

"Tell Joe he's just a few hours late. His news isn't news any more. "

Chapter XVII

"Peg-Leg" Warren

Webb drove his cattle up the river, the Staked Plains on his right. Theherd was a little gaunt from the long journey and he took the last partof the trek in easy stages. Since he had been awarded the contract forbeeves at the Fort, by Department orders the old receiving agent had beentransferred. The new appointee was a brother-in-law of McRobert and theowner of the Flying V Y did not want to leave any loophole for rejectionof the steers. 

With the clean blood of sturdy youth in him Clanton recovered rapidlyfrom the shoulder wound. In order to rest him as much as possible, Webb put him in charge of the calf wagon which followed the drag andpicked up any wobbly-legged bawlers dropped on the trail. During thetrip Jim discovered for himself the truth of what Billie had said, that the settlers with small ranches were lined up as allies of theSnaith-McRobert faction. These men, owners of small bunches of cows, claimed that Webb and the other big drovers rounded up their cattle inthe drive, ran the road brand of the traveling outfit on these strays, and sold them as their own. The story of the drovers was different. They charged that these "nesters" were practically rustlers preying uponlarger interests passing through the country to the Indian reservations. Year by year the feeling had grown more bitter, That Snaith and McRobertbacked the river settlers was an open secret. A night herder had beenshot from the mesquite not a month before. The blame had been laid upon aband of bronco Mescaleros, but the story was whispered that a "badman" in the employ of the Lazy S M people, a man known as "MysteriousPete Champa, " boasted later while drunk that he had fired the shot. 

Jim had heard a good deal about this Mysterious Pete. He was a killer ofthe most deadly kind because he never gave warning of his purpose. Theman was said to be a crack shot, quick as chain lightning, without theslightest regard for human life. He moved furtively, spoke little whensober, and had no scruples against assassination from ambush. Nobody inthe Southwest was more feared than he. 

This man crossed the path of Clanton when the herd was about fifty milesfrom the Fort. 

The beeves had been grazing forward slowly all afternoon and wereloose-bedded early for the night. Cowpunchers are as full of larks asschoolboys on a holiday. Now they were deciding a bet as to whetherTim McGrath, a red-headed Irish boy, could ride a vicious gelding thathad slipped into the remuda. Billie Prince roped the front feet of thehorse and threw him. The animal was blindfolded and saddled. 

Doubtful of his own ability to stick to the seat, Tim maneuvered thebuckskin over to the heavy sand before he mounted. The gelding wentsun-fishing into the air, then got his head between his legs and gave hisenergy to stiff-legged bucking. He whirled as he plunged forward, wentround and round furiously, and unluckily for Tim reached the hard ground. The jolts jerked the rider forward and back like a jack-knife without aspring. He went flying over the head of the bronco to the ground. 

The animal, red-eyed with hate, lunged for the helpless puncher. A secondtime Billie's rope snaked forward. The loop fell true over the head ofthe gelding, tightened, and swung the outlaw to one side so that hishoofs missed the Irishman. Tim scrambled to his feet and fled for safety. 

The cowpunchers whooped joyously. In their lives near-tragedy was toofrequent to carry even a warning. Dad Wrayburn hummed a stanza of"Windy Bill" for the benefit of McGrath:

"Bill Garrett was a cowboy, an' he could ride, you bet; He said the bronche couldn't bust was one he hadn't met. He was the greatest talker thatthis country ever saw Until his good old rim-fire went a-driftin' downthe draw. "

Two men had ridden up unnoticed and were watching with no obviousmerriment the contest. Now one of them spoke. 

"Where can I find Homer Webb?"

Dad turned to the speaker, a lean man with a peg-leg, brown as a Mexican, hard of eye and mouth. The gray bristles on the unshaven face advertisedhim as well on into middle age. Wrayburn recognized the man as "Peg-Leg"Warren, one of the most troublesome nesters on the river. 

"He's around here somewhere. " Dad turned to Canton. "Seen anything of theold man, Jim?"

"Here he comes now. "

Webb rode up to the group. At sight of Warren and his companion the faceof the drover set. 

"I've come to demand an inspection of yore herd, " broke out the nesterharshly. 

"Why demand it? Why not just ask for it?" cut back Webb curtly. 

"I'm not splittin' words. What I'm sayin' is that if you've got any of mycattle here I want 'em. "

"You're welcome to them. " Webb turned to his segundo. "Joe, ride throughthe herd with this man. If there's any stock there with his brand, cut 'em out for him. Bring the bunch up to the chuck wagon an' let me see'em before he drives 'em away. "

The owner of the Flying V Y brand wasted no more words. He swung hiscowpony around and rode back to the chuck wagon to superintend thejerking of the hind quarters of a buffalo. 

He was still busy at this when the nester returned with half a dozencattle cut out from the herd. In those days of the big drives many straysdrifted by chance into every road outfit passing through the country. Itwas no reflection on the honesty of a man to ask for an inspection and tofind one's cows among the beeves following the trail. 

Webb walked over to the little bunch gathered by Warren and looked overeach one of the steers. 

"That big red with the white stockin's goes with the herd. The rest maybe yours, " the drover said. 

"The roan's mine too. My brand's the Circle Diamond. See here where it'sbeen blotted out. "

"I bought that steer from the Circle Lazy H five hundred miles from here. You'll find a hundred like it in the herd, " returned Webb calmly. 

Warren turned to his companion. "Pete, you know this steer. Ain't itmine?"

"Sure. " The man to whom Warren had turned for confirmation was a slight, trim, gray-eyed man. Sometimes the gray of the eyes turned almostblack, but always they were hard as onyx. There was about the mansomething sinister, something of eternal wariness. His glance had a habitof sweeping swiftly from one person to another as if it questioned whatpurpose might lie below the unruffled surface. 

Homer Webb called to Prince and to Wrayburn. "Billie--Dad, know anythingabout this big red steer?"

"Know it? We'd ought to, " answered Wrayburn promptly. "It's the ladinobeef that started the stampede on the Brazos--made us more trouble thanany ten critters of the bunch. "

"You bought it from the Circle Lazy H, " supplemented Billie. 

Peg-Leg Warren laughed harshly. "O' course they'll swear to it. You'regivin' them their job, ain't you?"

The drover looked at him steadily. "Yes, I'm givin' the boys a job, but Ihaven't bought 'em body an' soul, Warren. "

The eyes of the nester were a barometer of his temper. "That's my beef, Webb. "

"It never was yours an' it never will be. "

"Raw work, Webb. I'll not stand for it. "

"Don't overplay yore hand, " cautioned the owner of the trail herd. 

Clanton had ridden up and was talking to the cook. A couple of otherpunchers had dropped up to the chuck wagon, casually as it were. 

Warren glared at them savagely, but swallowed his rage. "It's yore say-soright now, but I'll collect what's comin' to me one of these days. You'reliable to find this trail hotter 'n hell with the lid on. "

"I'm not lookin' for trouble, but I'm not runnin' away from it, " returnedWebb evenly. 

"You're sure goin' to find it--a heap more of it than you can ride herdon. That right, Pete?"

The gray-eyed man nodded slightly. Mysterious Pete had the habit oftaciturnity. His gaze slid in a searching, sidelong fashion from Webb toPrince, on to Wrayburn, across to Clanton, and back to the drover. Nowolf in the encinal could have been warier. 

"Cut out the roan, " ordered Webb. 

The ladino was separated from the bunch of Circle Diamond cattle. Warrenand his satellite drove the rest from the camp. 

"War, looks like, " commented Dad Wrayburn. 

"Yes, " agreed the drover. "I wish it didn't have to be. But Peg-Legcalled for a showdown. He came here to force my hand. As regards thebeef, he might have had it an' welcome. But that wouldn't have satisfiedhim. He'd have taken it for a sign of weakness if I had given way. "

"What will he do?" asked young McGrath. 

"I don't know. We'll have to keep our eyes open every minute of the dayan' night. Are you with me, boys?"

Tim threw his hat into the air and let out a yell. "Surest thing youknow. "

"Damfidon't sit in an' take a hand, " said Wrayburn. 

One after another agreed to back the boss. 

"But don't think it will be a picnic, " urged Webb. "We'll know we've beenin a fight before we get through. With a crowd of gunmen like MysteriousPete against us we'll have hard travelin'. I'd side-step this if I could, but I can't. "

Chapter XVIII

A Stampede

Clanton took his turn at night herding for the first time the day ofWarren's visit to the camp. Under a star-strewn sky he circled thesleeping herd, humming softly a stanza of a cowboy song. Occasionally hemet Billie Prince or Tim McGrath circling in the opposite direction. Thescene was peaceful as old age and beautiful as a fairy tale. For underthe silvery light of night the Southwest takes on a loveliness foreign toit in the glare of the sun. The harsh details of day are lost in aluminous glow of mystic charm. 

Jim had just ridden past Billie when the silence was shattered by asudden fury of sound. The popping of revolvers, the clanging of cowbells, the clash of tin boilers--all that medley of discord which lendsvolume to the horror known as a charivari--tore to shreds the harmony ofthe night. 

"What's that?" called Billie. 

The hideous dissonance came from the side of the herd farthest from thecamp. Together the two riders galloped toward it. 

"Peg-Leg Warren's work, " guessed Clanton. 

"Sure, " agreed Billie. "Trying to stampede the herd. "

Already the cattle were bawling in wild terror, surging toward the campto escape this unknown danger. Both of the punchers drew their revolversand fired rapidly into the herd. It was impossible to check the rush, butthey succeeded in deflecting it from the sleeping men. Before the weaponswere empty, the ground shook with a thunder of hoofs as the herd fledinto the darkness. 

Billie found himself in the van of the stampede. He was caught in therush and to save himself from being trampled down was forced to join theflight. He was the center of a moving sea of backs, so hemmed in that ifhis pony stumbled life would be trodden out of him in an instant. Exceptfor occasional buffalo wallows the ground was level, but at any momenthis mount might break a leg in a prairie-dog hole. 

For the first mile or two the cattle were packed in a dense mass, shoulder to shoulder, all lumbering forward in wild-eyed panic. The noiseof their hoofs was like the continuous roll of thunder and the cloud ofdust so thick that the throat of Prince was swollen with it. It was onlyafter the stampeded cattle had covered several miles that the formationof their aimless charge grew looser. The pace slackened as the steersbecame leg-weary. Now and again small bunches dropped from the drag orfrom one of the flanks. Gradually Billie was able to work toward theoutskirts. His chance came when the herd poured into a swale and from itemerged into a more broken terrain. Directly in front of the leaders wasa mesa with a sharp incline. Instead of taking the hill, the stampedesplit, part flowing to the right and part to the left. The cow-puncherurged his flagged horse straight up the hill. 

He had escaped with his life, but the bronco was completely exhausted. Billie unsaddled and freed the cowpony. He knew it would not wander farnow. Stretched out at full length on the buffalo grass, the cowboy drankinto his lungs the clean, cold night air. His tongue was swollen, hislips cracked and bleeding. The alkali dust, sifting into His eyes, hadleft them red and sore. Every inch of his unshaven face, his hands, andhis clothes was covered with a fine, white powder. For a long drink ofmountain water he would gladly have given a month's pay. 

Within the hour Billie resaddled and took the back trail. There was notime to lose. He must get back to camp, notify Webb where the stampedewas moving, and join the other riders in an all-night and all-dayround-up of the scattered herd. Since daybreak he had been in the saddle, and he knew that for at least twenty-four hours longer he would not leaveit except to change from a worn-out horse to a fresh one. 

When Prince reached camp shortly after midnight he found that thestampede of the cattle had for the moment fallen into second place in theminds of his companions. They were digging a grave for the body of TimMcGrath. The young Irishman had been shot down just as the attack on theherd began. It was a reasonable guess to suppose that he had come face toface with the raiders, who had shot him on the theory that dead men tellno tales. 

But the cowpuncher had lived till his friends reached him. He had toldthem with his dying breath that Mysterious Pete had shot him without aword of warning and that after he fell from his horse Peg-Leg Warren rodeup and fired into his body. 

Jim Clanton called his friend to one side. "I'm goin' to sneak out an'take a lick at them fellows, Billie. Want to go along?"

"What's yore notion? How're you goin' to manage it?"

"Me, I'm goin' to bushwhack Warren or some of his killers from thechaparral. "

Prince had seen once before that cold glitter in the eyes of the hillman. It was the look that comes into the face of the gunman when he isintent on the kill. 

"I wouldn't do that if I was you, Jim, " Billie advised. "This ain't ourpersonal fight. We're under orders. We'd better wait an' see what theold man wants us to do. An? I don't reckon I would shoot from ambushanyhow. "

"Wouldn't you? I would, " The jaw of the younger man snapped tight. "What chance did they give poor Tim, I'd like to know? He was one of thebest-hearted pilgrims ever rode up the trail, an' they shot him down likea coyote. I'm goin' to even the score. "

"Don't you, Jim; don't you. " Billie laid a hand on the shoulder of hispartner in adventure. "Because they don't fight in the open is no reasonfor us to bushwhack too. That's no way for a white man to attack hisenemies. "

But the inheritance from feudist ancestors was strong in young Clanton. He had seen a comrade murdered in cold blood. All the training of hisprimitive and elemental nature called for vengeance. 

"No use beefin', Billie. You don't have to go if you don't want to. ButI'm goin'. I didn't christen myself Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em for nothin'. "

"Put it up to Webb first. Let's hear what he has got to say about it, "urged Prince. "We've all got to pull together. You can't play a lone handin this. "

"I'll put it up to Webb when I've done the job. He won't be responsiblefor it then. He can cut loose from me if he wants to. So long, Billie. I'll sleep on Peg-Leg Warren's trail till I git him. "

"Give up that fool notion, Jim. I can't let you go. It wouldn't be fairto you or to Webb either. We're all in this together. "

"What'll you do to prevent my goin'?"

"I'll tell the old man if I have to. Sho, kid! Let's not you an' me havetrouble. " Billie's gentle smile pleaded for their friendship. "We've beenpals ever since we first met up. Don't go off on this crazy idea like ahalf-cocked hogleg. "

"We're not goin' to quarrel, Billie. Nothin' to that. But I'm goin'through. " The boyish jaw clamped tight again. The eyes that looked at hisfriend might have been of tempered steel for hardness. 

"No. "

"Yes. "

Clanton was leaning against the rump of his horse. He turned, indolently, gathered his body suddenly, and vaulted to the saddle. Like a shot he wasoff into the night. 

Billie, startled at the swiftness of his going, could only stare afterhim impotently. He knew that it would be impossible to find one lonerider in the darkness. 

Slowly he walked back to the grave. The riders of the Flying V Y weregathered round in a quiet and silent group. They were burying the body ofhim who had been the gayest and lightest-hearted of their circle only afew hours before. 

As soon as the last shovelful of earth had been pressed down upon themound, Webb turned to business. The herd scattered over thirty miles ofcountry must be gathered at once and he set about the round-up. He hadhad bad runs on the trail before and he knew the job before his men wasno easy one. 

They jogged out on a Spanish trot in the trail of the stampede. The chuckwagon was to meet them at Spring River next morning, where the firstgather of beeves would be brought and held. All night they rode, tough ashickory, strong as whip-cord. Into the desert sky sifted the gray lightwhich preceded the coming of day. Banners of mauve and amethyst and topazwere flung across the horizon, to give place to glorious splashes ofpurple and pink and crimson. The sun, a flaming ball of fire, rose big asa washtub from the edge of the desert. 

In that early morning light crept over the plain little bunches of cattlefollowed by brown, lithe riders. Like spokes of a wheel each group movedto a hub. Old Black Ned, the cook, was the focus of their travel. For atSpring River he had waiting for them hot coffee, flaky biscuits, steakshot from the coals. Each rider seized a tin cup, a tin plate, a knife andfork, and was ready for the best Uncle Ned had to offer. 

The remuda had been brought up by the wranglers. While the horses milledabout in a cloud of dust, each puncher selected another mount. Hemoved forward, his loop trailing, eye fixed on the one pony, out of onehundred and fifty, that he wanted for the day's work. Suddenly a ropewould snake forward past half a dozen broncos and drop about the neck ofan animal near the heart of the herd. The twisting, dodging cowpony wouldsurrender instantly and submit to being cut out from the band. Saddleswere slapped on in a hurry and the riders were again on their way. 

Through the mesquite they rode, slackening speed for neither gullies norbarrancas. Webb gave orders crisply, disposed of his men in such a wayas to make of them a drag-net through which no cattle could escape, andbegan to tighten the loops for the drive back to camp. 

By the middle of the afternoon the chuck wagon was in sight. The ponieswere fagged, the men weary. For thirty-six hours these riders, whosemuscles seemed tough as whalebone, had been almost steadily in thesaddle. They slouched along now easily, always in a gray cloud of dustraised by the bellowing cattle. 

The new gather of cattle was thrown in with those that had been roundedup during the night. The punchers unsaddled their worn mounts and driftedto the camp-fire one by one. Ravenously they ate, then rolled up in theirblankets and fell asleep at once. To-night they had neither heart norenergy for the gay badinage that usually flew back and forth. 

Night was still heavy over the land when Uncle Ned's gong wakened them. The moon was disappearing behind a scudding cloud, but stars could beseen by thousands. Across the open plain a chill wind blew. 

All was bustle and confusion, but out of the turmoil emerged order. Thewranglers, already fed, moved into the darkness to bring up the remuda. Tin cups and plates rattled merrily. Tongues wagged. Bits of repartee, which are the salt of the cowpuncher's life, were flung across the firefrom one; to another. Already the death of Tim McGrath was falling intothe background of their swift, turbulent lives. After all the cowboy diesyoung. Tim's soul had wandered out across the great divide only a fewmonths before that of others among them. 

Out of the mist emerged the desert, still gray and vague and withoutdetail. The day's work was astir once more. With the nickering of horses, the bawling of cattle, and the shouts of men as an orchestralaccompaniment, light filtered into the valley for the drama of the newsunrise. Once more the tireless riders swept into the mesquite throughthe clutching cholla to comb another segment of country in search of thebeeves not yet reclaimed. 

That day's drive brought practically the entire herd together again. Afew had not been recovered, but Webb set these down to profit and loss. What he regretted most was that the cattle were not in as good conditionas they had been before the stampede. 

The drover spent the next day cutting out the animals that did not belongto him. Of these a good many had been collected in the round-up. It wasclose to evening before the job was finished and the outfit returned tocamp. 

Billie rode up to the wagon with the old man. Leaning against a saddle onthe ground, a flank steak in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, lounged Jim Clanton. 

Webb, hard-eyed and stiff, looked at the young man, "Had a pleasantvacation, Clanton?"

"I don't know as I would call it a vacation, Mr. Webb. I been attendingto some business, " explained Jim. 

"Yours or mine?"

"Yours an' mine. "

"You've been gone forty-eight hours. The rest of us have worked our headsoff gettin' together the herd. I reckon you can explain why you weren'twith us. "

Yellow with dust, unshaven, mud caked in his hair, hands torn by thecat-claw, Homer Webb was red-eyed from lack of sleep and from theirritation of the alkali powder. This young rider had broken the firstlaw of the cowpuncher, to be on the job in time of trouble and to staythere as long as he could back a horse. The owner of the Flying V Y wasangry clear through at his desertion and he intended to let the boy knowit. 

"I went out to look for Peg-Leg Warren" said Clanton apologetically. 

Webb stopped in his stride. "You did? Who told you to do that?"

"I didn't need to be told. I've got horse sense myself. " Jim spoke alittle sulkily. He knew that he ought to have stayed with his employer. 

"Well, what did you do when you found Peg-Leg--make him a visit for acouple of days?" demanded the drover with sarcasm. 

"No, I don't know him well enough to visit--only well enough to shootat. "

"What's that?" asked Webb sharply. 

"Think I was goin' to let 'em plug Tim McGrath an' get away with it?"snapped Jim. 

"That's my business--not yours. What did you do? Come clean. "

"Laid out in the chaparral till I got a chance to gun him, " the youngfellow answered sullenly. 

"And then?"

"Plugged a hole through him an' made my get-away. "

"You mean you've killed Peg-Leg Warren?"

"He'll never be any deader, " said Clanton coolly. 

The dark blood flushed into Webb's face. He wasted no pity on Warren. Theman was a cold-hearted murderer and had reaped only what he had sowed. But this was no excuse for Clanton, who had deliberately dragged theFlying V Y into trouble without giving its owner a chance to determinewhat form retribution should take. The cowpuncher had gone back toprimitive instincts and elected the blood feud as the necessary form ofreprisal. He had plunged Webb and the other drovers into war without evena by-your-leave. His answer to murder had been murder. To encouragethis sort of thing would be subversive of all authority and would lead toanarchy. 

"Get yore time from Yankie, Clanton, " said his employer harshly. "Sleepin camp to-night if you like, but hit the trail in the mornin'. I can'tuse men like you. "

He turned away and left the two friends alone. 

Prince was sick at heart. He had warned the young fellow and it had doneno good. His regret was for Jim, not for Warren. He blamed himself fornot having prevented the killing of Peg-Leg. Yet he knew he had done allthat he could. 

"I'm sorry, Jim, " he said at last. 

"Oh, well! What's done is done. "

But Billie could not dismiss the matter casually. He saw clearly thatClanton had come to the parting of the ways and had unconsciously madehis choice for life. From this time he would be known as a bad man. Thebrand of the killer would be on him and he would have to make good hisreputation. He would have to live without friends, without love, in thedreadful isolation of one who is watched and feared by all. Prince felt agreat wave of sympathy for him, of regret for so young a soul gone sototally astray. Surely the cards had been marked against Jim Clanton. 

Chapter XIX

A Two-Gun Man

Webb delivered his beeves at the Fort and endured with what fortitude hecould the heavy cut which the inspector chose to inflict on him. He paidoff his men and let them shift for themselves. Billie secured a woodcontract at the reservation, employed half a dozen men and teams, cleanedup a thousand dollars in a couple of months, and rode back to LosPortales in the late fall. 

He had money in his pocket and youth in his heart. The day was waning ashe rode up the street and in the sunlight the shadows of himself and hishorse were attenuated to farcical lengths. Little dust whirls rose in theroad, spun round in inverted cones like huge tops, and scurried out ofsight across the prairie. Horses drowsed lazily in front of Tolleson's, anchored to the spot by the simple process of throwing the bridle to theground. It all looked good to Billie. He had been hard at work for manymonths and he wanted to play. 

A voice hailed him from across the street. "Hello, you Billie!"

Jim Clanton and Pauline Roubideau were coming out of a store. Hedescended from his horse and they fell upon him gayly. 

"'Jour, monsieur, " the girl cried, and she gave him warmly both herhands. 

The honest eyes of Billie devoured her. "Didn't know you were within ahundred miles of here. This is great. "

"We've moved. We live about twenty miles from town now. But I'm in a gooddeal because Jean has bought the livery stable, " she explained. 

"I'm sure glad to hear that. "

"You're to come and see us to-night. Supper will be ready in an hour. Youbring him, Jim, " ordered the girl. "I'll leave you boys alone now. Youmust have heaps to talk about. "

The gaze of the cowpuncher followed her as she went down the street lightand graceful as a fawn. Not since spring had he seen her, though in thenight watches he had often heard the sound of her gay voice, seen theflash of her bright eyes, and recalled the sweet and gallant buoyancythat was the dear note of her comradeship. 

Billie looked after his horse and walked with Jim to the Proctor House. His mind was already busy appraising the changes in his friend. Clantonwas now a "two-gun" man. From each hip hung a heavy revolver, the lowerends of the holsters tied down in order not to interfere with lightningrapidity of action. The young man showed no signs of nervousness, but hischill eyes watched without ceasing the street, doors and windows ofbuildings, the faces of passers-by and corner loafers. What Prince hadforeseen was coming to pass. He was paying the penalty of his reputationas a bad man. Already incessant wariness was the price of life for him. 

A second surprise awaited Billie at the Roubideau house. Polly was in thekitchen and looked out of the door only to wave a big spoon at them asthey approached. Another young woman welcomed them. At sight of Billie adeep flush burned under her dark skin. It was, perhaps, because of thissign of emotion that her greeting was very cavalier. 

"You're back, I see!"

Prince ignored the hint of hostility in her manner. His big hand grippedher little one firmly. 

"Yes, I'm back, Miss Lee, and right glad to see you lookin' so well. I'llnever forget the last time we met. "

Neither would she, but she did not care to tell him so. The memory of theadventure by the river-bank recurred persistently. This lean, sunbakedcowpuncher with the kind eyes and quiet efficiency of bearing hadimpressed himself upon her as no other man had. There was a touch ofscorn in her feeling for herself, because she knew she wanted him for hermate more than anything else on earth. In the night, alone in thefriendly darkness, her hot face pressed into the cool pillows, sheconfessed to herself that she loved him and longed for the sight of hisstrong, good-looking face with its smile of whimsical humor. But that waswhen she was safe from the eyes of the world. Now, to punish herself andto prevent him from suspecting the truth, she devoted her attentionmainly to Clanton. 

Jim was openly her admirer. He wanted Lee to know it and did not care whoelse observed his devotion. Pauline for one guessed the boy's state ofmind and smiled at it, but Billie wondered whether the smile hid anaching heart. He knew that little Polly had a very tender feeling for theboy who had saved her life. More than once during supper it seemed to himthat her soft eyes yearned for the reckless young fellow talking so gaylyto Miss Snaith. The conviction grew in Prince--it found lodgment in hismind with a pang of despair--that the girl he cared for had given herlove to his friend. He fought against the thought, tried resolutely topush it from him, but again and again it returned. 

Not until supper was well under way did Jean Roubideau come in from thecorral. He shook hands with Billie and at the same time explained toPolly his tardiness. 

"Billie is not the only stranger in town to-night. Two or three blew injust before I left and kept me a few minutes. That Mysterious Pete Champawas one. You know him, don't you, Jim?"

The question was asked carelessly, casually, but Prince read in it awarning to his friend. It meant that he was to be ready for any emergencywhich might arise. 

After they had eaten Billie went out to the porch to smoke with Jean. 

"Is there goin' to be trouble between Mysterious Pete an' Jim?" he asked. 

"Don't know. Wouldn't wonder if that was why Champa came to town. If Iwas Jim I'd keep an eye in the back of my head when I walked. It's acinch Pete will try to get him--if he tries it at all--with all thebreaks in his favor. "

"Is it generally known that Jim was the man who killed Warren?"

"Yes. " Jean stuffed and lit his pipe before he, said anything more. "Thekid can't get away from it now. Folks think of him as a killer. Theywatch him when he comes into a bar-room an' they're careful not to crosshim. He's a bad man whether he wants to be or not. "

Billie nodded. "I was afraid it would be that way, but I'm more afraid ofsomethin' else. The worst thing that can happen to any man, except toget killed himself, is to shoot another in cold blood. 'Most always itgives the fellow a cravin' to kill again. Haven't you noticed it? A kindof madness gets into the veins of a killer. "

"Sure I've noticed it. He has to be watchin'--watchin'--watchin' all thetime to make sure nobody gits him. His mind is on that one idea everyminute. Consequence is, he's always ready to shoot. So as not to take anychances, he makes it a habit to be sudden death with a six-gun. "

"That's it. Most of 'em are sure-thing killers. Jim's not like that. He'sgame as they make 'em. But I'd give every cent I'm worth if he hadn'tgone out an' got Peg-Leg, "

"He never had any bringin' up, or at least he had the wrong kind. " Helistened a moment with a little smile. From the kitchen, where Jim washelping the young women wash the dishes, came a murmur of voices andoccasionally a laugh. "Funny how all good women are mothers in theirhearts. Polly's tryin' to save that boy from himself, an' I reckon maybeMiss Lee is too. In a way they got no business to have him here at all. Ilike him. That ain't the point. But he's got off wrong foot first. He'sdeclared himself out of their class. "

"And yore sister won't see it that way?"

"Not a bit of it. She's goin' to fight for his soul, as you might say, an' bring him back if she can do it. Polly's a mighty loyal littlefriend, if I am her brother that tells it. "

"She's right, " decided Prince. "It can't hurt her any. Nothin' that'swrong can do her any harm, because she's so fine she sees only the good. An' it's certainly goin' to do the kid good to know her. "

"If he'd git out of here he might have a chance yet. But he won't. An'when he meets up with Champa or Dave Roush he's got to forget mightyprompt everything that Polly has told him. "

"I heard Roush was on the mend. Is he up again?"

"Yes. He had a narrow squeak, but pulled through. Roush rode into townwith Mysterious Pete to-night. "

"Then they've probably come to gun Jim. I'll stay right with him for aday or two if I can. "

"What for?" demanded Roubideau bluntly. "You're not in this thing. You'vegot no call to mix up in it. The boy saved Polly, an' I'll go this far. If I'm on the spot when he meets Champa or Roush--an' I'll try to bethere--I won't let'em both come at him without takin' a hand. But hehas got to choose his own way in life. I can't stand between him an' theconsequences of his acts. He's got to play his own hand. "

"Did Dave Roush an' Mysterious Pete seem pretty friendly?"

"Thicker than three in a bed. "

"Looks bad. " Billie came to another phase of the situation. "How does ithappen that Snaith's outfit have let Jim stay here without gettin' afterhim? Nothin' but a necktie party would suit 'em when we left in thespring. "

"Times have changed, " explained Roubideau. "This is quite a trail townnow. The big outfits are bringin' in a good deal of money. Snaith can'trun things with so high a hand as he did. Besides, there are a good manyof the trail punchers in town now. I reckon Wally Snaith has given ordersnot to start anything. "

"Maybe Roush an' Champa have been given orders to take care of Jim. "

Jean doubted this and said so. "Snaith doesn't play his hand under thetable. But, of course, Sanders may have tipped 'em off to do it. "

Clanton joined them presently and the three men walked downtown. The gaysmile dropped from Jim's face the moment he stepped down from the porch. Already his eyes had narrowed and over them had come a kind of film. Theysearched every dark spot on the road. 

"Let's go to Tolleson's, " he proposed abruptly. 

There was a moment of silence before Billie made a counter-proposition. "No, let's go back to the hotel. "

"All right. You fellows go to the hotel. Meet you there later. "

The eyes of Prince and Roubideau met. Not another word was spoken. Bothof them knew that Clanton intended to show himself in public where anyone that wanted him might find him. They turned toward Tolleson's, buttook the precaution to enter by the back door. 

The sound of shuffling feet, of tinkling piano and whining fiddle, gavenotice in advance that the dancers were on the floor. Clanton took theprecaution to ease the guns in their holsters in order to make sure of aswift draw. 

His forethought was unnecessary. Neither Roush nor Mysterious Pete wasamong the dancers, the gamblers, or at the bar. The three friends passedout of the front door and walked to the Proctor House. Clanton had doneall that he felt was required of him and was willing to drop the matterfor the night. 

Chapter XX

Exit Mysterious Pete

In the cold, gray dawn of the morning after, Mysterious Pete straddleddown the main street of Los Portales with a dark-brown taste in hismouth. He was feeling ugly. For he had imbibed a large quantity ofliquor. He had gambled and lost. He had boasted of what he intended to doto one James Clanton, now generally known as "Go-Get-'Em Jim, "

This last in particular was a mistake. Moreover, it was quite out ofaccord with the usual custom of Mr. Champa. When he made up his mind toincrease by one the number of permanent residents upon Boot Hill he bidedhis time, waited till the suspicions of his victim were lulled, and shotdown his man without warning. The one fixed rule of his life was never totake an unnecessary chance. Now he was taking one. 

Every chain has its weakest link. Mr. Champa drunk was a rock upon whichMr. Champa sober had more than once come to shipwreck. No doubt somebusybody, seeking to curry favor with him, had run to this Clanton withthe tale of how Mysterious Pete had sworn to kill him on sight. 

The bad man was sour on the world this morning. He prided himself onbeing always a dead shot, but such a night as he had spent would not helphis chances. There could be no doubt that his nerves were jumpy. What heneeded was a few hours' sleep. 

He would have taken a back street if he had dared, but to do so wouldhave been a confession of doubt. The killer can afford to let nobodyguess that he is afraid. When such a suspicion becomes current he mightas well order his coffin. The men whom he holds in the subjection of fearwill all be taking a chance with him. 

So Mysterious Pete, bad man and murderer, coward at heart to the marrow, strutted toward his rooming-house with a heart full of hate to everybody. The pleasant morning sunshine was an offense to him. A care-free laugh onthe breeze made him grit his teeth irritably. Particularly he hated DaveRoush. For Roush had led him into this cunningly by bribery and flattery. He had fed the jealousy of Pete, who could not brook the thought of arival bad man in his own territory. He had hinted that perhaps Champa hadbetter steer clear of this youth, whose reputation as a killer had grownso amazingly. Ever since Clanton had killed Warren the bad man hadintended to "get him. " But he had meant to do it without taking any risk. His idea was to pretend to be his friend, push a gun into his stomach, and down him before he could move. Now by his folly he had to take afighting chance. Dave Roush, to save his own skin, had pushed him intodanger. All this was quite clear to him now, and he raged at theknowledge. 

Champa, too, was at another disadvantage. He was not sure that he wouldknow Clanton when he saw him. He had set eyes on the young fellow once, on that occasion when he had gone with Warren to demand an inspection ofthe Flying V Y herd. But he had seen him only as one of a group ofcowpunchers and not as an individual enemy, whereas it was quite certainthat Go-Get-'Em Jim would recognize him. 

From out of a doorway stepped a young fellow with his hand on his hip. Pete's six-gun flashed upward in a quarter curve even as the bulletcrashed on its way. The youth staggered against the wall and sanktogether into a heap. Champa, every sense alert, fired again, then waitedwarily to make sure this was not a ruse of his victim. 

Some one--a woman--darted from a building opposite, flew across thestreet, and dropped beside the crumpled figure. Her white skirt coveredthe body like a protecting flag. 

The dark eyes in the white face lifted toward Champa were full of horror, "You murderer! You've killed little Bud Proctor!" cried the young woman. 

He took an uncertain step or two toward her. Mysterious Pete knew that ifthis were true, his race was run. 

"Goddlemighty, Miss Snaith! I swear I thought it was Clanton. He wasdrawing a gun on me. "

Lee drew the boy to her bosom so that her body was between the killer andhis victim. A swift, up-blazing, maternal fury seemed to leap from herface. 

"Don't come any nearer! Don't you dare!" she cried. 

The man's covert glance swept round. Already men were peering out ofdoors and windows to see what the shooting was about. Soon the streetwould be full of them, all full of deadly fury at him. He backed away, snarling, cut across a vacant lot, and ran to his room. The bolt in hisdoor was no sooner closed than he knew it could not protect him. Therecomes a time in the career of a large percentage of bad men when someother hard citizen on behalf of the public puts a period to it. He iswiped out, not for what he has done only, but for fear also of what hemay do. The only safety for him now was to get out of the country as fastas a house could carry him. Instinctively Mysterious Pete recognized thisnow and cursed his folly for not going straight to a corral. 

If he hurried he might still make his get-away, He reloaded his revolver, opened the door of his room, and listened. Cautiously he stole downstairsand out the back door of the building. A little girl was playing atkeeping house in a corner of the yard. Scarcely more than a baby herself, she was vigorously spanking a doll. 

"Be dood. You better had be dood, " she admonished. 

A crafty idea came into the cunning brain of the outlaw. She would serveas a protection against the bullets of his enemies. He caught her up andcarried her, kicking and screaming, while he ran to the Elephant Corral. 

"Saddle me a horse. Jump!" ordered the fugitive, his revolver out. 

The trembling wrangler obeyed. He did not know the cause of MysteriousPete's urgency fact was enough. He knew that this man with the bad recordwas flying in fear of his life. Tiny sweat beads stood out on hisforehead. The fellow was in a blue funk and would shoot at the leastpretext. 

The saddle that the wrangler flung on the horse he had roped was a Texasone with double cinches. In desperate haste to be gone, Champa releasedthe child a moment to tighten one of the bands. 

A voice called to her. "Run, Kittie. "

To the casual eye the child was all knobby legs and hair ribbons. Shescudded for the stable, sobbing as she ran. 

At sound of that voice Mysterious Pete leaped to the saddle and whirledhis horse. He was too late. The man who had called to Kittie slammed shutthe gate of the corral and laughed tauntingly. 

"Better 'light, Mr. Champa. That caballo you're on happens to be mine. "

Pete needed no introduction. This slight, devil-may-care young fellow atthe gate was Clanton. He was here to fight. The only road of escape wasover his body. 

The gunman slid from the saddle. His instinct for safety still servedhim, for he came to the ground with the horse as a shield between him andhis foe. The nine-inch barrel of his revolver rested on the back of thebronco as he blazed away. A chip flew from the cross-bar of the corralgate. 

Clanton took no chances. The first shot from his forty-four dropped thecowpony. Pete backed away, firing as he moved. He flung bullet afterbullet at the figure behind the gate. In his panic he began to think thathis enemy bore a charmed life. Three times his lead struck the woodworkof the gate. 

The retreating man whirled and dropped, his weapon falling to the dust. Clanton fired once more to make sure that his work was done, then movedslowly forward, his eyes focused on the body. A thin wisp of smoke rosefrom the revolver lying close to the still hand. 

Mysterious Pete had died with his boots on after the manner of his kind. 

Chapter XXI

Jim Receives and Declines an Offer

From the moment that Clanton walked out of the corral and left the deadgunman lying in the dust his reputation was established. Up till thattime he had been on probation. Now he was a full-fledged killer. Nobodyany longer spoke of him by his last name, except those friends who stillhoped he might escape his destiny. "Go-Get-'em Jim" was his title atlarge. Those on more familiar terms called him "Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em. "

It was unfortunate for Clanton that the killing of Champa lifted him intoinstant popularity. Mysterious Pete had been too free with his gun. Thecommunity had been afraid of him. The irresponsible way in which he hadwounded little Bud Proctor, whose life had been saved only by the courageof Lee Snaith, was the climax of a series of outrages committed by theman. 

That Jim had incidentally saved Kittie McRobert from the outlaw was apiece of clean luck. Snaith came to him at once and buried the hatchet. In the war just starting, the cattleman needed men of nerve to lead hisforces. He offered a place to Clanton, who jumped at the chance to get onthe pay-roll of Lee's father. 

"Bring yore friend Billie Prince to the store, " suggested Snaith. "He'snot workin' for Webb now. I can make a place for him, too. "

Billie came, listened to the proposition of the grim old-timer, anddeclined quietly. 

"Goin' to stick by Webb, are you?" demanded the chief of the oppositefaction. 

"Anything wrong with that? I've drawn a pay-check from him for threeseasons. "

"Oh, if it's a matter of sentiment. "

As a matter of fact, Billie did not intend to go on the trail any more, though Webb had offered him a place as foreman of one of his herds. Hehad discovered in himself unsuspected business capacity and believed hecould do better on his own. Moreover, he was resolved not to let himselfbecome involved in the lawless warfare that was engulfing the territory. 

It must be remembered that Washington County was at this time as large asthe average Atlantic Coast State. It had become a sink for the riff-raffdriven out of Texas by the Rangers, for all that wild and adventurouselement which flocks to a new country before the law has establisheditself. The coming of the big cattle herds had brought money into thecountry, and in its wake followed the gambler and the outlaw. Gold andhuman life were the cheapest commodities at Los Portales. The man whowore a gun on his hip had to be one hundred per cent efficient tosurvive. 

Lawlessness was emphasized by the peculiar conditions of the country. Theintense rivalry to secure Government contracts for hay, wood, andespecially cattle, stimulated unwholesome competition. The temptation to"rustle" stock, to hold up outfits carrying pay to the soldiers, to livewell merely as a gunman for one of the big interests on the river, madethe honest business of every-day life a humdrum affair. 

None the less, the real heroes among the pioneers were the quiet citizenswho went about their business and refused to embroil themselves in thefeuds that ran rife. The men who made the West were the mule-skinners, the storekeepers, the farmers who came out in white-topped movers'wagons. For a time these were submerged by the more sensational gunman, but in the end they pushed to the top and wiped the "bad man" from theearth. It was this prosaic class that Billie Prince had resolved to join. 

To that resolve he stuck through all the blood-stained years of thenotorious Washington County War. He went about his private affairs withquiet energy that brought success. He took hay and grain contracts, bought a freighting outfit, acquired a small but steadily increasingbunch of cattle. Gradually he bulked larger in the public eye, became ananchor of safety to whom the people turned after the war had worn itselfout and scattered bands of banditti infested the chaparral to prey uponthe settlers. 

This lean, brown-faced man walked the way of the strong. Men recognizedthe dynamic force of his close-gripped jaw, the power of his quick, steady eye, the patience of his courage. The eyes of women followed himdown the street, for there was some arresting quality in the firm, crisptread that carried the lithe, smooth-muscled body. With the passage ofyears he had grown to a full measure of mental manhood. It was inevitablethat when Washington County set itself to the task of combing the outlawsfrom the mesquite it should delegate the job to Billie Prince. 

The evening after his election as sheriff, Billie called at the home ofPauline Roubideau, who was keeping house for her brother. Jack Goodheartwas leaving just as Prince stepped upon the porch. It had been two yearsnow since Jack had ceased to gravitate in the direction of Lee Snaith. His eyes and his footsteps for many months had turned often toward Polly. 

The gaze of the sheriff-elect followed the lank figure of the retreatingman. 

"I've a notion to ask that man to give up a good business to wear adeputy's star for me, " he told Pauline. 

"Oh, I wouldn't, " she said quickly. 

"Why not? He'd be a good man for the job. I want some one game--some onewho will go through when he starts. "

His questioning eyes rested on hers. She felt a difficulty in justifyingher protest. 

"I don't know--I just thought--"

"I'm waiting, " said Prince with a smile. 

"He wouldn't take it, would he?" she fenced. 

"If it was put up to him right I think he would. Of course, it would be asacrifice for him to make, but good citizens have to do that these days. "

"He's had so much hard luck and been so long getting a start I don'tthink you ought to ask him. " The color spilled over her cheeks like wineshaken from a glass upon a white cloth. Polly was always ardent on behalfof a friend. 

"I can't help that. There's another man I have in mind, but if I don'tget him it will be up to Jack. "

"Will it be dangerous?"

"No more than smoking a cigarette above an open keg of powder. But youdon't suppose that would keep him from accepting the job, do you?"

"No, " she admitted. "He would take it if he thought he ought. But I hopeyou get the other man. "

Billie dismissed the subject and drew up a chair beside the hammock inwhich she was leaning back. 

"This is my birthday, Polly, " he told her. "I'm twenty-four years old. "

"Good gracious! What a Methuselah!"

"I want a present, so I've come to ask for it. "

With a sidelong tilt of her chin she flashed a look of quick eyes at him. Her voice did not betray the pulse, of excitement that was beginning tobeat in her blood. 

"You've just been elected sheriff. Isn't that enough?" she evaded. 

"That's a fine present to hand a man, " he answered grimly. "An' I didn'tnotice you bubble with enthusiasm when I spoke of givin' half the gloryto Goodheart. "

"But I haven't a thing you'd care for. If I'd only known in time I'd havesent to Vegas and got you something nice. "

"You don't have to send to Vegas for it, Polly. The present I want isright here, " he said simply. 

She reached out a little hand impulsively. "Billie, I believe you 're thebest man I know--the very best. "

"I hate to hear that. You're tryin' to let me down easy. "

"I'm an ungrateful little idiot. Any other girl in town would jump at thechance to say, 'Thank you, kind sir. '"

"But you can't, " he said gently. 

"No, I can't. "

He was not sure whether there was a flash of tears in her brown eyes, buthe knew by that little trick of biting the lower lip that they were notfar away. She was a tender-hearted little comrade, and it always hurt herto hurt others. 

Billie drew a long breath. "That's settled, too, then. I asked you oncebefore if there was some one else. I ask you again, but don't tell me ifyou'd rather not. "

"Yes. "

"You mean there is. "

Again the scarlet splashed into her cheeks. She nodded her head three orfour times quickly in assent. 

"Not Jim Clanton?" he said, alarmed. 

A faint, tender smile flashed on her lips. "I don't think I'll tell youwho he is, Billie. "

He hesitated. "That's all right, Polly. I don't want to pry into yoresecret. But--don't do anything foolish. Don't marry a man with the notionof reformin' him or because he seems to you romantic. You have lots ofsense. You'll use it, won't you?" he pleaded. 

"I'll try to use it, Billie, " she promised. Then, the soft eyes shiningand the color still high in her cheeks, she added impulsively: "I don'tknow anybody that needs some one to love him more than that poor boydoes. "

"Mebbeso. But don't you be that some one, Polly. " He hesitated, dividedbetween loyalty to his friend and his desire for this girl's good. Hisbrown, unscarred hand caught hers in a firm grip. "Don't you do it, little girl. Don't you. The woman that marries Jim Clanton is doomed tobe miserable. There's no escape for her. She's got to live with her heartin her throat till the day they bring his dead body back to her. "

She leaned toward him, and now there was no longer any doubt that hereyes were bright with unshed tears. "Perhaps a woman doesn't marry forhappiness alone, Billie. That may come to her, or it may not. But she hasto fulfill her destiny. I don't know how to say what I mean, but she mustgo on and live her life and forget herself. "

Prince rejected this creed flatly. "No! No! The best way to fulfill yorelife is to be happy. That's what you've always done, an' that's whyyou've made other people happy. Because you go around singin' an'dancin', we all want to tune up with you. When I was out bossin' afreight outfit I used to think of you at night under the stars as alittle Joybird. Now you've got it in that curly head of yours that you 'dought to be some kind of a missionary martyr for the sake of a man'ssoul. That's all wrong. "

"Is it?" she asked him with a crooked, little, wistful smile. "How aboutyou? Do you want to be sheriff? Is it going to make you so awfully happyto spend your time running down outlaws for the good of the country?Aren't you doing it because you've been called to it and not because youlike it?"

"That's different, " he protested. "When the community needs him a man'sgot to come through or be a yellow hound. But you've got no right totoss away yore life plumb foolishly just because you've got a tenderheart. " Billie stopped again, then threw away any scruples he might haveon the score of friendship. "Jim is goin' to be what he is to the end ofthe chapter. You can't change him. Nobody can. In this Washington CountyWar he's been a terror to the other side. You know that. For such a girlas you he's outside the pale. "

"I heard Jean say once that Jim had never killed a man that didn't needkilling, " she protested. 

"That may be true, too. But it wasn't up to him to do it. It isn't onlykillin' either. He's on the wrong track. "

The young man could say no more. He could not tell her that Clanton wassuspected of rustling and that his name had been mentioned in connectionwith robbery of the mail. These charges were not proved. Prince himselfstill loyally denied their truth, though evidence was beginning to pileup against the young gunman. He had warned Clanton, and Jim had clappedhim on the shoulder, laughed, and invited him to take a drink with him. This was not quite the way in which Billie felt an innocent man wouldreceive news that he was being furtively accused of crime. 

"Yes, he's going wrong, " agreed Pauline. "But we can't desert him, canwe? You're his best friend. You know how brave he is, how generous, howat the bottom of his heart he loves people that are fine and true. If westand by him we'll save him yet. "

The young man's common sense told him that Clanton's future lay withhimself and his attitude toward his environment, but he loved the spiritof this girl's gift of faith in her friends. It was so wholly like her toreject the external evidence and accept her own conviction of his innategoodness. 

"I hope yore faith will work a miracle. "

"I hate the things he does more than you do, Billie. It is horrible to methat he can take human life. I don't justify him at all, even thoughusually he is on the right side. But in spite of everything he has doneJim is only a wild boy. And he's so splendid some ways. Any day he wouldgive his life for you or for me or for Lee Snaith. You feel that abouthim, don't you?"

"Yes. "

He was not satisfied to let the subject drop, but for the present it hadto be postponed. For a young man and a young woman were turning in at thegate. They were a handsome pair physically. Each of them moved with thelithe grace of a young puma. Pauline rose to meet them. 

"I'm glad you came, Lee. Didn't know you were in town, Jim, "

Clanton smiled. "I rode up from the Hondo to congratulate our newsheriff. Don't you let any of them outlaws escape, Billie. "

Prince looked directly into his audacious eyes as he shook hands withhim. 

"Not if I can help it, Jim. I want you to be my chief deputy in cleanin'up the county. If you'll help me we'll make such a gather of bad men thatit won't be safe for a crook to show his head here. "

Pauline clapped her hands. "What a splendiferous idea! It's a greatchance for you, Jim. You and Billie can do it too. I know you can. "

The other young woman had recognized Prince only by a casual nod. It washer custom to ignore him as much as possible. Now her dark, velvety eyesjumped to meet his, then passed to Clanton. She recognized thesignificance of the moment. It was Jim's last opportunity to line up onthe side of law and order. Lee, with Billie and Pauline, had stood hisloyal friend against a growing public opinion. Would he justify theirfaith in him?

After a long silence Jim spoke. "No, I reckon not, Billie. I've gotinterests that will take all my time. Much obliged, old scout. I'd liketo ride in couples with you like we used to do. I sure would, but Ican't. "

"That's all nonsense. It's no excuse at all, " broke out Lee in her directfashion. "Mr. Prince has more important affairs than you a good deal. He is dropping his to serve the people. You'll have to give a betterreason than that to convince me. "

Billie knew and Lee suspected what lay back of the spoken word. The dutyof the sheriff would be to hunt down the men with whom Clanton hadlately been consorting. He felt that he could not desert his friends toline up against them. Some of these were a bad lot, the riff-raff of awild country, but this would not justify him in his own mind for usinghis knowledge of their habits to run them to earth. 

"No, I can't talk business with you, Billie, " the young fellow saiddecisively. 

"Why can't you?" demanded Lee. 

Jim Clanton smiled. "You're certainly a right persistent young lady, butby advice of counsel I decline to answer. "

Chapter XXII

The Rustlers' Camp

From Live-Oaks a breakneck trail runs up the side of the mountain, dropsdown into the valley beyond, and twists among the hills and throughcañons to the Ruidosa. In the darkness a man followed this precariouspath. His horse climbed it like a cat, without the least uncertainty ordoubt. Both mount and rider had covered this ground often during theWashington County War. Joe Yankie expected to continue to use it as longas he found a profit in other men's cattle. 

When he had reached the summit he swung to the right, dipped abruptlyinto a narrow gulch, skirted a clump of junipers, and looked down upona little basin hidden snugly in the gorge. A wisp of pungent smoke roseto his nostrils. The pony began cautiously the sharp descent. Theescarpment was of disintegrated granite which rang beneath the hoofs ofthe animal. A pebble rolled to the edge of the bluff and dropped into theblack pit below. 

From the gulf a challenging voice rose. "Hello, up there!"

"It's me--Joe, " answered the rider. 

"Time you were gettin' here, " growled the other, as yet only a voice inthe darkness. 

Slowly the horse slid forward to a ribbon of trail that led lessprecipitously to the camp. 

"'Lo, Joe. Fall off an' rest, " a one-armed man invited. By the light ofthe camp-fire he was a hard-faced, wall-eyed citizen with a jaw like asteel trap. 

Yankie dismounted and straddled to the fire. "How-how; I'm heap hungry, boys. Haven't et since mornin'. "

"We're 'most out of grub. Got nothin' but jerked beef an' hard-tack. Howare things a-stackin', Joe?" asked a heavy-set, bow-legged man witha cold, fishy eye. 

"Looks good, Dave. I'll lead the cattle to you. It'll be up to you an'Albeen an' Dumont to make a get-away with 'em. "

"Don't you worry none about that. Once I get these beeves on the trailthere can't no shorthorn cattleman take 'em away from me. "

"Oh, you're doin' this thing, are you?" drawled Albeen offensively. "There's been a heap of big I talk around here lately. First off, I wantto tell you that when you call Homer Webb a shorthorn cattleman you'vegot another guess comin'. He's a sure enough old-timer. Webb knocked thebark off'n this country when it was green, an' you got to rise up earlyan' travel fast if you want to slip over anything on him, "

"That's whatever, " agreed Yankie. "I don't love the old man a whole lot. I've stood about all from him I'm intendin' to. One of these days it'sgoin' to be him or me. But the old man's there every jump of the road. Heknew New Mexico when Los Portales was a whistlin' post in the desert. He's fought through this war an' come through richer than when hestarted. If I was lookin' for an easy mark I'd sure pass up Webb. "

"He's got you lads buffaloed, " jeered Roush. "Webb looks like anybodyelse to me. I don't care if he's worth a million. If he fools with mehe'll find I fog him quick. "

"I've known fellows before that got all filled up with talk an' had tosteam off about every so often, " commented Albeen to the world at large. 

"Meanin' me?"

Albeen carefully raked a live coal from the fire and pressed it down intothe bowl of his pipe. The eyes in his leathery, brown face had grown hardas jade. For some time he and Dave Roush had been ready for an explosion. It could not come any too soon to suit the one-armed man. 

"Meanin' you if you want to take it that way. " Albeen looked straight athim with an unwinking gaze. "You're not the only man on the reservationthat wears his gun low, Roush. Maybe you're a wolf for fair. I've sureheard you claim it right often. You're a two-gun man. I pack only one, seem' as I'm shy a wing. But don't git the notion you can ride me. Iwon't stand for it a minute. "

"Sho! Dave didn't mean anything like that. Did you, Dave?" interposedDumont hastily. "You was just kind o' jokin', wasn't you?"

"Well, I'm servin' notice right now that when any one drops around anyjokes about me bein' buffaloed, he's foolin' with dynamite. No manalive can run a sandy on me an' git away with it. "

The chill eyes of Albeen, narrowed to shining slits, focused on Roushmenacingly. All present understood that he was offering Devil Dave achoice. He could draw steel, or he could side-step the issue. 

The campers had been playing poker with white navy beans for chips. Roush, undecided, gathered up in his fingers the little pile of them infront of him and let them sift down again to the blanket on the edge ofwhich he sat. Some day he and Albeen would have to settle this quarrelonce for all. But not to-night. Dave wanted the breaks with him when thathour came. He intended to make a sure thing of it. Albeen was one ofthose fire-eaters who would play into his hand by his reckless courage. Better have patience and watch for his chance against the one-armedgunman. 

"I ain't aimin' to ride you any, Albeen, " he said sulkily. 

"Lay off'n me, then, " advised the other curtly. 

Roush grumbled something inaudible. It might have been a promise. Itmight have been a protest. Yankie jumped into the breach and beganto talk. 

"I couldn't git away from the old man yesterday. I think he's suspiciousabout me. Anyhow, he acts like he is. I came in to Live-Oaks to-nightwithout notifyin' him an' I got to be back in camp before mornin'. Here's my plan. I've got a new rider out from Kansas for his health. He'sgun-shy. I'll leave him in charge of this bunch of stock overnight on. The berrendo. He'll run like a scared deer at the first shot. Hustle thebeeves over the pass an' keep 'em movin' till you come to Lost Cache. "

Crouched over the blanket, they discussed details and settled them. Yankie rose to leave and Roush followed him to his horse. 

"Don't git a notion I'm scared of Albeen, Joe, " he explained. "Noone-armed, hammered-down little runt can bluff me for a second. When I'mgood an' ready I'll settle with him, but I'm not goin' to wreck thisbusiness we're on by any personal difficulty. "

"That's right, Dave, " agreed the foreman of the Flying V Y. "We allunderstand how you feel. "

Yankie, busy fastening a cinch, had his forehead pressed against thesaddle and could afford a grin. He knew that the courage of a killer islargely dependent on his physical well-being. If he is cold or hungry orexhausted, his nerve is at low ebb; if life is running strong in hisarteries his grit is above par. For years Roush had been drinking toexcess. He had reached the point where he dared not face in the open aman like Albeen with nerves of unflawed steel. The declension of agunman, if once it begins, is rapid and sure. One of those days, unlessRoush were killed first, some mild-looking citizen would take his gunfrom him and kick him out of a bar-room. 

The foreman traveled fast, but the first streaks of morning were alreadylighting the sky when he reached Rabbit Ear Creek, upon which was theFlying V Y Ranch No. 3 of which he was majordomo. He unsaddled, threw thebronco into the corral, and walked to the foreman's bunkhouse. Withoutundressing, he flung himself upon the bed and fell asleep at one. Heawoke to see a long slant of sunshine across the bare planks of thefloor. 

Some one was hammering on the door. Webb opened it and put in his headjust as the Segundo jumped to his feet. 

"Makin' up some lost sleep, Joe?" inquired the owner of the ranchamiably. 

"I been out nights a good deal tryin' to check the rustlers, " answeredYankie sullenly. He had been caught asleep in his clothes and it annoyedhim. Would the old man guess that he had been in the saddle all night?

"Glad to hear you're gettin' busy on that job. They've got to be stopped. If you can't do it I'll have to try to find a man that can, Joe. "

"Mebbe you think it's an easy job, Webb, " retorted the other, a chip onhis shoulder. "If you do it costs nothin' Mex to fire me an' try someother guy. "

"I don't say you're to blame, Joe. Perhaps you're just unlucky. But thefact stands that I'm losin' more cattle on this range than at any one ofmy other three ranches or all of 'em put together. "

"We're nearer the hills than they are, " the foreman replied sulkily. 

"I don't want excuses, but results, Joe. However, I came to talk aboutthat gather of beeves for Major Strong. "

Webb talked business in his direct fashion for a few minutes, thenstrolled away. The majordomo watched him walk down to the corral. Hecould not swear to it, but he was none the less sure that theMissourian's keen eye was fixed upon a sweat-stained horse that had beentraveling the hills all night. 

Chapter XXIII

Murder from the Chaparral

Webb was just leaving for one of his ranches lower down the river when ahorseman galloped up. The alkali dust was caked on his unshaven face andthe weary bronco was dripping with sweat. 

The owner of the Flying V Y, giving some last instructions to theforeman, turned to listen to the sputtering rider. 

"They--they done run off that bunch of beeves on the berrendo, " heexplained, trembling with excitement. 

"Who?"

"I don't know. A bunch of rustlers. About a dozen of 'em. They tried tokill me. "

Webb turned to Yankie. "You didn't leave this man alone overnight withthat bunch of beeves for Major Strong?"

"Sure I did. Why not?" demanded the foreman boldly. 

"We'll not argue that, " said the boss curtly, "Go hunt you another job. You'll draw yore last pay-check from the Flying V Y to-day. "

"If you're loaded up with a notion that some one else could do better--"

"It's not yore ability I object to, Yankie" cut in the ranchman. 

"Say, what are you insinuatin'?" snarled the segundo. 

"Not a thing, Yankie. I'm tellin' you to yore face that I think you're acrook. One of these days I'm goin' to land you behind the bars at SantaFé. No, don't make another pass like that, Joe. I'll sure beat you toit. "

Wrayburn had ridden up and now asked the foreman a question about somecalves. 

"Don't ask me. Ask yore boss, " growled Yankie, his face dark with fury. 

"Don't ask me either, " said Webb. "You're foreman of this ranch, Dad. "

"Since when?" asked the old Confederate. 

"Since right this minute. I've fired Yankie. "

Dad chewed his cud of tobacco without comment. He knew that Webb wouldtell him all he needed to know. 

"Says I'm a waddy! Says I'm a crook!" burst out the deposed foreman. "Wish you joy of yore job, Wrayburn. You'll have one heluva time. "

"You will if Yankie can bring it about, " amended the cattleman. He spokecoldly and contemptuously just as if the man were not present. "I'vemade up my mind, Dad, that he's in cahoots with the rustlers. "

"Prove it! Prove it!" demanded the accused man, furious with anger atWebb's manner. 

The ranch-owner went on talking to Wrayburn in an even voice. "I'vesuspected it for some time. Now I'm convinced. Yesterday mornin' I foundhim asleep in bed with his clothes on. His horse looked like it had beentravelin' all night. I made inquiries. He went to Live-Oaks an' was seento take the trail to the Ruidosa. Why?"

"You've been spyin' on me, " charged Yankie. He was under a savage desireto draw his gun but he could not shake off in a moment the habit ofsubordination bred by years of service with this man. 

"To let his fellow thieves know that he meant to leave a bunch of beefsteers on the berrendo practically unguarded. That's why. I'd bet a stackof blues on it. You'll have to watch this fellow, Dad. "

The new foreman took his cue from the boss. None the less, he meant justwhat he said. "You better believe I'll watch him. I've had misgivin'sabout him for a right smart time. "

"He'll probably ride straight to his gang of rustlers. Well, he can't dous half as much harm there as here. "

"I'll git you both. Watch my smoke. Watch it. " With a curse the rustlerswung his horse round and gave it the spur. Poison hate churned in hisheart. At the bend of the road he turned and shook a fist at them both. 

"There goes one good horse an' saddle belongin' to me, " said Webb, smiling ruefully. "But if I never get them back it's cheap at the price. I'm rid of one scoundrel. "

"I wonder if you are, Homer, " mused his friend. "Maybe you'd better havelet him down easy. Joe Yankie is as revengeful as an Injun. "

"Let him down easy!" exploded the cattleman. "When he's just pulled off araw deal by which I lose a bunch of forty fat three-year-olds. I oughtto have gunned him in his tracks. "

"If you had proof, but you haven't. It's a right doubtful policy for aman to stir up a rattler till it's crazy, then to turn it loose in hisbedroom. "

The Missourian turned to the business of the hour. "We'll get a posse outafter the rustlers right away. Dad. I'll see the boys an' you hustleup some rifles and ammunition. "

Half an hour later they saw the dust of the cowpunchers taking the trailfor the berrendo. 

"I'll ride down an' get Billie Prince started after 'em. I can go withhis posse as a deputy, " suggested the ranchman. 

To save Webb's time, Dad rode a few miles with him while the cattlemanoutlined to him the policy he wanted pursued. 

The sun was high in the heavens when they met, not far from Ten Sleep, arider. The cattleman looked at him grimly. In the Washington CountyWar just ended, this young fellow had been the leading gunman of theSnaith-McRobert faction. If the current rumors were true he was nowmaking an easy living in the chaparral. 

The rider drew up, nodded a greeting to Wrayburn, and grinned with coolnonchalance at Webb. He knew from report in what esteem he was heldby the owner of the Flying V Y brand. 

"Yankie up at the ranch?" he asked. 

"What do you want with him?" demanded Webb brusquely. 

"I got a message for him. "

"Who from?"

Clanton was conscious of some irritation against this sharp catechism. Inpoint of fact Billie Prince had asked him to notify Yankie that he hadheard of the rustling on the berrendo and was taking the trail at once. But Go-Get-'Em Jim was the last man in the world to be driven bycompulsion. He had been ready to tell Webb the message Billie had givenhim for Yankie, but he was not ready to tell it until the Missourianmoderated his tone. 

"Mebbe that's my business--an' his, Mr. Webb, " he said. 

"An' mine too--if you've come to tell him how slick you pulled that trickon the berrendo. "

Jim stiffened at once. "To Halifax with you an' yore cattle, Webb. Do youclaim I rustled that bunch of beeves last night?"

"I see you know all about it?" retorted Webb with heavy sarcasm. 

"Mebbeso. I'm not askin' yore permission to live--not just yet. "

Webb flushed dark with anger. "You've got a nerve, young fellow, to go upto my ranch after last night's business. Unless you want to have yorepelt hung up to dry, keep away from any of the Flying V Y ranges. As forYankie, if you go back to yore hole you'll likely find him. I kicked thehound out two hours ago. "

"Like you did me three years ago, " suggested Clanton, looking straight atthe grizzled cowman. "Webb, you're the high mogul here since you fixedit up with the Government to send its cavalry to back yore play againstour faction. You act like we've got to knock our heads in the dust threetimes when we meet up with you. Don't you think it. Don't you think itfor a minute. If I've rustled yore cattle, prove it. Until then padlockyore tongue, or you an' me'll mix it. "

"You're threatenin' me, eh?"

"If that's what you want to call it. "

"You're a killer, I'm told, " flashed back Webb hotly. "Now listen to me. You an' yore kind belong in the penitentiary, an' that's where the honestfolks of Washington County are goin' to send you soon. Give me half achance an' I'll offer a reward of ten thousand dollars for you alive ordead. That's the way to get rid of gunmen. "

"Is it?" Clanton laughed mockingly. "You advise the fellow that tries tocollect that reward to get his life insured heavy for his widow. "

If this was a boast, it was also a warning. Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em may nothave been the best target shot on the border, but give him a man behind aspitting revolver as his mark and he could throw bullets with swifter, deadlier accuracy than any old-timer of them all. He did not take thetime to aim; it was enough for him to look at his opponent as he fired. 

The young fellow swung his horse expertly and cantered into the mesquite. 

"I'll give you two months before you're wiped off the map, " the cattlemancalled after him angrily. 

At the edge of a heavy growth of brush Clanton pulled up, flashed asix-shooter, and dropped two bullets in the dust at the feet of thehorses in the road. Then, with a wave of his hand, he laughed derisivelyand plunged into the chaparral. 

Webb, stung to irritable action, fired into the cholla and the arrowweedthickets. Shot after shot he sent at the man who had disappeared in themaze. 

"Let him go. Homer. You're well quit of him, " urged Wrayburn. 

The words were still on his lips when out of the dense tangle ofvegetation rang a shot. The owner of the Flying VY clutched at hissaddle-horn. A spasmodic shudder shook the heavy body and it began tosink. 

Wrayburn ran to help. He was in time to catch his friend as he fell, butbefore he could lower the inert weight to the ground the life of HomerWebb had flickered out. 

Chapter XXIV

Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em Leaves a Note

Prince and his posse were camped in a little park near the headquartersof Saco de Oro Creek when a trapper brought word to Billie of the deathof Webb. The heart of the young sheriff sank at the news. It was not onlythat he had always liked and admired the bluff cattleman. What shockedhim more was that Jim Clanton had killed him. Webb was one of the mostpopular ranchmen on the river. There would be an instant, widespreaddemand for the arrest and conviction of his slayer. Billie had taken anoath to uphold the law. His clear duty was to go out and capture Jimalive or dead. 

Not for a moment did Billie doubt what he would do. He had pledgedhimself to blot out the "bad man, " and he would go through no matter whatthe cost to his personal feelings. 

A slow anger at Clanton burned in him. Why had he done this wanton andlawless thing? The boy he had known three years ago would never have shotdown from cover a man like Webb. That he could have done it now markedthe progress of the deterioration of his moral fiber. What right had heto ask those who remained loyal to him to sacrifice so often their senseof right in his favor?

The old intimacy between Billie and Jim had long since waned. They weretraveling different roads these days. But though they were no longerchums their friendship endured. When they met, a warm affection lit theeyes of both. It had survived the tug of diverse interests, theintervention of long separations, the conflict born of the love of women. Would it stand without breaking this new test of its strength?

With a little nod to Goodheart the sheriff retired from the camp-fire. His deputy joined him presently on a hillside overlooking the creek. 

"I'm goin' back to Live-Oaks to-night, Jack, " announced Prince. "You'dbetter stay here a few days an' hunt through these gulches. Since thatrain yesterday there's not one chance in fifty of runnin' down therustlers, but you might happen to stumble on the place where they've gotthe cattle cached. "

"You're goin' down about this Webb murder?"

"Yes. I'm goin' to work out some plans. It will take some strategy toland Clanton. He's lived out in the hills for years and he knows everyfoot of cover in the country. "

Goodheart assented. To go blindly out into the mesquite after the youngoutlaw would have been as futile as to reach a hand toward the stars withthe hope of plucking a gold-piece from the air. 

"Watch the men he trains with. Keep an eye on the Elephant Corral an'check up on him when he rides in to Los Portales. Spot the tendejon atPoint o' Rocks where he has a hang-out. Unless he has left the countryhe'll show up one of these days. "

"That's what I think, Jack, an' I'm confident he hasn't gone. He has areason for stayin' here. "

Goodheart could have put a name to the reason. It was a fair enoughreason to have held either him or the sheriff under the samecircumstances. 

"How about a reward? He trains with a crowd I'd hate to trust fartherthan I could throw a bull by the tail. Some of 'em would sell their ownmothers for gold. "

"I'll get in touch with Webb's family an' see if they won't offer a bigreward for information leading to the arrest of the murderer. "

Within the week every crossroads store in the county had tacked to it aplacard offering a reward of five thousand dollars for the man who hadkilled Homer Webb. 

No applications for it came in at first. 

"Wait, " said Goodheart, smiling. "More than one yellow dog has licked itsjaws hungrily before that poster. Some dark night the yellowest one willsneak in here to see you. "

On the main street of Los Portales one evening Billie met PaulineRoubideau. She came at him with a direct frontal attack. 

"I've had a letter from Jim Clanton. "

The sheriff did not ask her where it was post-marked. He did not want anyinformation from Polly as to the whereabouts of her friend. 

"You're one ahead of me then. I haven't, " answered Prince. 

"He says he didn't do it. "

"Do what?"

"Shoot Mr. Webb. And I know he didn't if he says he didn't. "

The grave eyes of the young man met hers. "But Dad Wrayburn was there. Hesaw the whole affair. "

Pauline brushed this aside with superb faith. "I don't care. Jim neverlied to me in his life. I know he didn't do it--and it makes me so glad. "

The young man envied her the faith that could reject evidence as thoughit did not exist. The Jim Clanton she had once known would not have liedto her. Therefore the Jim Clanton she knew now was worthy of perfecttrust. If there was any flaw in that logic the sweet and gallant heart ofthe girl did not find it. 

But Billie had talked with Dad Wrayburn. He had ridden out and gone overthe ground with a fine-tooth comb. Webb had been killed by a bulletfrom a forty-four. Of his own knowledge Prince knew that Clanton wascarrying a weapon of this caliber only three hours before the killing. There was no escape from the conviction of the guilt of his friend. 

The sheriff walked back to the hotel where he was staying. On the way hismind was full of the young woman he had just left. He had never likedher better, never admired her more. But, somehow--and for the first timehe realized it--there was no longer any sting in the thought of her. Hedid not have to fight against any unworthy jealousy because of herinterest in Clanton. Of late he had been very busy. It struck him nowthat his mind had been much less preoccupied with the thought of her thanit used to be. He supposed there was such a thing as falling out of love. Perhaps he was in process of doing that now. 

Bud Proctor, a tall young stripling, met Prince on the porch of thehotel. 

"Buck Sanders was here to see you, sheriff, " the boy said. 

Since the days when he had been segundo of the Snaith-McRobert outfitSanders had declined in the world. Like many of his kind he had taken todrink, become bitten with the desire to get rich without working, andoperated inconspicuously in the chaparral with a branding iron. Muchwater had poured down the bed of the Pecos in the past three years. Thedisagreement between him and Clanton had long since been patched up andthey had lately been together a great deal. 

Prince went up to his room, threw off his coat, and began to prepare somepapers he had to send to the Governor. He was interrupted by a knockat the door. 

Sanders opened at the sheriff's invitation, shoved in his head, lookedaround the room warily, and sidled in furtively. He closed the door. 

"Mind if I lock it?" he asked. 

The sheriff nodded. His eyes fixed themselves intently on the man. "Go asfar as you like. "

The visitor hung his hat over the keyhole and moved forward to the table. His close-set eyes gripped those of the sheriff. 

"What about this reward stuff?" he asked harshly. 

An instant resentment surged up in Billie's heart. He knew now why thisfellow had come to see him secretly. It was his duty to get all theinformation he could about Clanton. He had to deal with this man whowanted to sell his comrade, but he did not relish the business. 

"You can read, can't you, Sanders?" he asked ungraciously. 

"Where's the money?" snarled his guest. 

"It's in the bank. "

"Sure?"

From his pocket-book Billie took a bank deposit slip. He put it on thetable where the other man could look it over. 

"Would a man have to wait for the reward until Clanton was convicted?"the traitor asked roughly. 

"A thousand would be paid as soon as the arrest was made, the rest whenhe was convicted, " said Prince coldly. 

"Will you put that in writin', Mr. Sheriff?"

The chill eyes of the officer drilled into those of the rustler. He drewa pad toward him and wrote a few lines, then shoved the tablet of papertoward Sanders. The latter tore off the sheet and put it in his pocket. 

Sanders spoke again, abruptly. "Understand one thing, Prince. I don'thave to take part in the arrest. I only tell you where to find him. "

"And take me to the spot, " added the sheriff, "I'll do the arrestin'. "

"Whyfor must I take you there if I tell you where to go?"

"You want a good deal for your white alley, Sanders, " returned the othercontemptuously. "I'm to take all the chances an' you are to drag down thereward. That listens good. Nothin' to it. You'll ride right beside me;then if anything goes wrong, you'll be where I can ask you questions. "

"Do you think I'm double-crossin' you? Is that it?" flushed theex-foreman of the Lazy S M. 

"I don't know. It might be Clanton you're double-crossin', or it might beme, " said the sheriff with cynical insolence. "But if I'm the bird you'vemade a poor choice. In case we're ambushed, you'll be in nice, easy reachof my gun. "

"Do I look like a fool?" snapped Sanders. "I'm out for the dough. I'mtakin' you to Clanton because I need the money. "

"Mebbeso. You won't need it long if you throw me down. " Then abruptly, the sheriff dropped into the manner of dry business. "Get down to tacks, man. Where is Clanton's hang-out?"

Buck sat down and drew a sketch roughly on the tablet. "Cross the riverat Blazer's Ford, cut over the hills to Ojo Caliente, an' swing to theeast. He's about four miles from Round Top in an old dugout. Maybeyou've heard of Saguaro Cañon. Well, he's holed up in a little gulchrunnin' into it. "

By daybreak next morning the sheriff's posse was in the saddle. Inaddition to Sanders, who rode beside Billie unarmed, Goodheart and twospecial deputies made up the party. 

The sun was riding high when they reached Ojo Caliente. The party boreeastward, following a maze of washes, arroyos, and gorges. It was wellinto the afternoon when the informer ventured a suggestion. 

"We're close enough. Better light here an' sneak forward on foot, " theman said gruffly. 

As he swung from the horse Billie smiled grimly. He had a plan of his ownwhich he meant to try. Buck Sanders might not like it, but he was not ina position to make any serious objection. 

They crept forward to a rim rock above a heavily wooded slope. Atongue-shaped grove ran down close to the edge of a narrow gulch. 

Prince explained what he meant to do. "We'll all snake down closer. WhenI give the word you'll go forward alone, Sanders, an' call Jim out. Askhim to come forward an' look at yore bronco's hoof. That's all you'llhave to do. "

Sanders voiced a profane and vigorous protest. "Have you forgot who thisguy is you're arrestin'? Go-Get-'Em Jim is no tenderfoot kid. He's chainlightnin' on the shoot. If he suspects me one steenth part of a second, that will be long enough for him to gun me good. "

"He'll not have a chance. We'll have him covered all the time. "

"Say, we agreed you was goin' to make this arrest, not me. "

"I'll make it. All you've got to do is to call him out. "

"All!" shrieked Sanders. "You know damned well I'm takin' the big risk. "

"That's the way I intended it to be, " the sheriff assured him coolly. "You're to get the reward, aren't you?"

The rustler balked. He polluted the air with low, vicious curses, but inthe end he had to come to time. 

They slipped through the grove till they could see on the edge of theravine a dug-out. Prince flashed a handkerchief as a signal and Sandersrode down in the open skirting the timber. He swung from the saddle andshouted a "Hello, in the house!"

No answer came. Buck called a second and a third time. He waited, irresolute. He could not consult with Prince. At last he moved toward thehouse and entered. Presently he returned to the door and waved to thesheriff to come forward. 

Very cautiously the posse accepted the invitation, but every foot of theway Billie kept the man covered. 

Sanders ripped out a furious oath. "He's done made his get-away. Some onemust 'a' warned him. "

He held out to Prince a note scrawled on a piece of wrapping-paper. Itwas in Clanton's pell-mell, huddled chirography:--

Sorry I can't stay to entertain you, Billie. Make yourself at home. Baconand other grub in a lard can by the creek. Help yourself. 

Crack Sanders one on the bean with your six-gun on account for me. 

JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM. 

Chapter XXV

The Mal-Pais

Billie Prince laughed. The joke was on him, but he was glad of it. Assheriff of Washington County it had been his duty to accept any aid thatmight come from the treachery of Sanders; but as a friend of Jim Clantonhe did not want to win over him by using such weapons. 

"Tickled to death, ain't you?" snapped the ex-foreman sourly. "Looks tome like you didn't want to make this arrest, Mr. Sheriff. Looks to melike some one else has been doin' some double-crossin' besides me. "

"Naturally _you'd_ think that, " cut in Goodheart dryly. "The factsprobably are that Go-Get-'Em Jim, knowin' his friends pretty well, hadyou watched, found out you called on the sheriff, an' guessed the rest. He's not a fool, you know. "

"That's right. Git ready an alibi, " Sanders snarled. 

Casually Goodheart picked up the piece of wrapping-paper upon which thenote had been written. He read aloud the last sentence. 

"'Crack Sanders one on the bean with your six-gun on account for me. 'Seems to me if I was you, Buck, I'd alibi myself down the river intoTexas as quick as I could jog a bronco along. But, of course, I don'tknow yore friend Go-Get-'Em as well as you do. Mebbe you'll be able toexplain it to him. Tell him you were hard up an' needed the money. "

The eyes of the rustler flashed from Goodheart to the sheriff. They werefull of sinister suspicion. Had these men arranged to deliver him intothe hands of Clanton? Was he himself going to fall into the pit he haddug?

"Gimme back my gun an' I'm not afraid of him or any of you, " he bluffed. 

"You'll get yore gun when we reach Los Portales, " Prince told him. "Ileft it in my office. "

"I ain't goin' to Los Portales. "

"All right. Leave yore address and I'll send the gun by the buckboarddriver. "

All the baffled hate and cupidity of Sanders glared out of his wolfishface. "I'll let you know later where I'm at. "

He straddled out of the house, pulled himself astride the waiting horse, and rode up the hill. Presently he disappeared over the crest. 

"Much obliged, Jack, " said Prince, smiling. "Exit Mr. Buck Sanders fromNew Mexico. Our loss is Texas's gain. Chalk up one bad man emigratedfrom Washington County. "

"He's sure goin' to take my advice, " agreed the lank deputy. A littlechuckle of amusement escaped from his throat. "To the day of his deathhe'll think we sent word to Go-Get-'Em Jim. I'll bet my next pay-checkagainst a dollar Mex that he forgets to send you that address. "

Billie availed himself of the invitation of Clanton to make himself athome. He and his posse spent the night in the dug-out and returned to LosPortales next day. For the better part of a week he was detained there onbusiness, after which he took the stage to Live-Oaks. 

News was waiting for Prince at the county seat that led him for a time toforget the existence of Clanton. The buckboard driver from El Pasoreported the worst sand-storm he had ever encountered. It had struck hima mile or two this side of the Mal-Pais, as the great lava beds in theTularosa Basin are commonly called. He had unhitched the horses, overturned the buckboard, and huddled in the shelter of the bed. There hehad lain crouched for ten hours while the drifting sand, fine as powder, blotted out the world and buried him in drifts. He was an old plainsman, tough as leather, and he had weathered the storm safely. A full day latehe staggered into Live-Oaks a sorry sight. 

The news that shook Live-Oaks into swift activity had to do with LeeSnaith. Just before the storm hit him the buckboard driver had met herriding toward the Mal-Pais. 

Prince arrived to find the town upside down with the confusion ofpreparation. Swiftly he brought order out of the turmoil. He organizedthe rescue party, assigned leaders to the divisions, saw that each manwas properly outfitted, and mapped off the territory to be covered byeach posse. Outwardly he was cool, efficient, full of hopeful energy. Butat his heart Billie felt an icy clutch of despair. What chance was therefor Lee, caught unsheltered in the open, when the wiry, old Indianfighter, protected by his wagon, had barely won through alive?

Every horse in Live-Oaks that could be ridden was in the group thatmelted into the night to find Lee Snaith. Every living soul left in thelittle town was on the street to cheer the rescuers. 

The sheriff divided his men. Most of them were to spend the night, and ifnecessary the next day and night, in combing the sand desert east of theMal-Pais. Here Lee had last been seen, and here probably she had wanderedround and round until the storm had beaten her down. It took littleimagination to vision the girl, flailed by the sweeping sand, bewilderedby it, choked at every gasping breath, hopelessly lost in the tempest. 

Yet some bell of hope rang in Billie's breast. She might have reached thelava. If so, there was a chance that she might be alive. For though thewind had sweep enough here, the fine dust-sand of the alluvial plaincould not be carried so densely into this rock-sea. Perhaps she hadslipped into a fissure and found safety. 

For fifty miles this great igneous bed stretches, a rough and broken seaof stone, across the thirsty desert. Its texture is like that of slagfrom a furnace. Once, in the morning of the world, it flowed from thecrater along the line of least resistance, a vitreous river of fire. In agreat molten mass it swept into the valleys, crawling like a great snakehere and there, pushing fiery tongues into every crevice of the hills. 

The margin of its flow is a cliff or steep slope varying in height from afew feet to that of a good-sized tree. Between the silt plain and thegeneral level of its bed rises a terrace. In front of it Prince stoppedand distributed the men he had reserved to search the lava bed. He gavedefinite, peremptory orders. 

"We'll keep about two hundred yards apart. Every twenty minutes each ofyou will fire his revolver. If any of you find Miss Snaith or anyevidence of her, shoot three times in rapid succession. Each of you passthe signal down the line by firing four shots. Those who hear the threeshots go in as fast as you can to the rescue. The others--those fartheraway, who hear the four shots only--will turn an' work back to the plain, continuing to fire once every twenty minutes. Do exactly as I tell you, boys. If you don't, some one will be lost an' may never get out alive. Ifany one of you gets out of touch with the rest of us, stay right whereyou are till mornin', then come out by the sun. "

The horses were left in charge of a Mexican boy. The surface of thedeposit is so broken that even a man on foot has difficulty in traversingit. Prince crawled forward from the terrace up the rough slope of thecliff which at this point bounded it. At the top of the rim he rose andcame face to face with another man. 

"A good deal like frozen hell, Billie, " the other said casually. 

"Where did you come from?" demanded the sheriff, amazed. 

Jim Clanton laughed grimly. "I've been with yore party half an hour. Whyshouldn't I be here when Lee Snaith is lost?"

"You were hiding in Live-Oaks?"

"Mebbeso. Anyway, I'm here. I'll take the right flank, Billie. "

"Do you think there's a chance, Jim?" The voice of Prince shook withemotion. It was the first sign of distress he had given. 

Clanton reflected just a moment before he answered. "I think there's justa chance. She saved our lives once, Billie. If she's alive we'll findher, you an' me. "

"By God, yes. " Prince turned away. He could not talk about it withoutbreaking down. 

In the stress of a great shock Billie had made a vital discovery. Themost important thing that would ever come to him in life was to find LeeSnaith alive. How blind he had been! He could see her now in imagination, as in reality he had seen her a hundred times, moving in the sun-pourwith elastic tread, full-throated and deep-chested, athrob with life inevery generous vein. How passionately she had loved things brave andtrue! How anger had flamed up in her like fire among tow at meanness andhypocrisy. Surely all the beauty of her person, the fineness of hercharacter, could not be blotted out so wantonly. If there was any economyin his world God would never permit waste like that. 

He wanted her. His soul cried out for her. And stormily he prayed that hemight find her alive and well, that the chance might still be given himto tell her how much he loved her. 

Sometimes he covered small distances where the flow structure wascomparatively smooth, broken only by minor irregularities. Again he cameto abrupt pits, deep caverns, tumbled heaps of broken slabs, or jaggedchunks of lava twisted into strange shapes. No doubt the volcanic flowhad hardened to a crust on top, cracked, and sunk into the furnace below. This process must have gone on indefinitely. 

He crept from slab to slab, pulled himself across chasms, worked slowlyforward in the darkness. At intervals he fired and listened for ananswer. Occasionally there drifted to him the sound of a shot from one ofthe other searchers. As the hours passed and brought to him no signalthat the girl had been found, his hopes ebbed. It was very unlikely thatshe could have wandered so far into the bad lands as this. 

He shuddered to think of her alone in this vast tomb of death. Supposeshe were here and they never found her. Suppose she were asleep when hepassed, worn out by terror and exhaustion. His voice grew hoarse fromshouting. Sometimes, when the thought of her fate would become an agonyto him, he could hardly keep his shout from rising to a scream. 

Billie struck a match and looked at his watch. It was five minutes pastthree. A faint gray was beginning to sift into the sky. He had beennearly seven hours in the Mal-Pais. Out in God's country the world wouldsoon be shaking sleep from its eyes. In this death zone there was neitherwaking nor sleeping. "Frozen hell, " Clanton had called it. Princeshuddered. 

The flare of the match had showed him that he was standing close to theedge of a fissure. In the darkness he could not see to the bottom of it. 

A faint breath of a whimper floated to him. He grew rigid, every nervetaut. He dared not let himself believe it could be real. Of course he wasimagining sounds. Presently, no doubt, he would hear voices. In thisdevil's caldron a man could not stay quite sane. 

Again, as if from below his feet, was lifted a strangled, little sob. 

"Lee!" he called huskily with what was left of his voice. 

Something in the cavern moved. By means of outcropping spars of rock helowered himself swiftly. 

The darkness was Stygian. He struck another match. 

From the gloom beyond the space lit by the small flame came the rustle ofsomething stirring. The match burned out. He lit another and gropedforward. His foot struck an impediment. 

He looked down into the startled eyes and white face of Lee Snaith. 

Chapter XXVI

A Dust-Storm

It had been a beautiful day of sunshine when Lee left Live-Oaks to rideto the Ninety-Four Ranch. Not a breath of wind stirred. The desert sleptin a warm, golden bath. It was peaceful as old age. 

But as the sun slipped past the meridian, gusts swept across the sandsand whipped into the air inverted cones that whirled like vast tops in awild race to nowhere. The air waves became more frequent and morefurious. When Lee passed the buckboard driver, the whole desert seemedalive with stinging sand. 

He called something to her that was lost in the wind. The girl waved athim a gauntleted hand. She had been out in dust-storms before and was notin the least alarmed. Across the lower part of her face she had tied asilk handkerchief to protect her mouth and nostrils from the sand. 

The mail carrier had scarcely disappeared before the fury of the windincreased. It lashed the ground with heavy whips, raging and screaming inshrill, whistling frenzy, until the desert rose in terror and began toshift. 

Lee bent her head to escape the sand that filled her eyes and nostrilsand beat upon her cheeks so unmercifully. She thought perhaps the tempestwould abate soon and she slipped from the saddle to crouch close to thebody of the horse for protection. Instead of decreasing, the gale rose toa hurricane. It was as if the whole sand plain was in continuous, whirling motion. 

The horse grew frightened and restless. It was a young three-year-old JimClanton had broken for her. Somehow--Lee did not know quite the wayit happened--the bridle rein slipped from her fingers and the colt wasgone. 

She ran after the pony--called to it frantically--fought in pursuitagainst the shrieking blasts. The animal disappeared, swallowed in thewhirl-wind that encompassed her and it. Lee sank down, sheltering herface with her arms against the pelting sand sleet. 

But years in the outdoor West had given Lee the primal virtue, courage. She scorned a quitter, one who lay down or cried out under punishment. Now she got to her feet and faced the storm. The closeness of herhorizon--her outstretched arms could almost touch the limit ofit--confused the mind of the girl. She no longer knew east from west, north from south. With a sudden sinking of the heart she realized thatshe was lost in this gray desert blizzard. 

Blindly she chose a direction and plunged forward. At times the wind hither like a moving wall and flung her to the ground. She would lie therepanting for a few moments, struggle to her knees, and creep on till in alull she could again find her feet. 

How much of this buffeting, she wondered, could one endure and live? Theair was so filled with dust that it was almost impossible to get abreath. Her muscles ached with the flogging they were receiving. She wasso exhausted, her forces so spent, that the hinges of her knees buckledunder her. 

One of her feet struck against a rise in the ground and she stumbled. Shelay there motionless for what seemed a long time before it penetrated herconsciousness that one of her palms pained from a jagged cut the fall hadcaused. Her body lay on sharp-pointed rocks. As far as they could reach, the groping fingers of the girl found nothing but hard, rough stone. Then, in a flash, the truth came to her. She had reached the Mal-Pais. 

She crept across the lava in an effort to escape the strangling wind. Itsrage followed her, drove the girl deeper into the bad lands. A renewal ofhope urged her on. In its rough terrain she might find shelter from thetornado. In short stages, with rests between, she pushed into thevitreous lake, dragged herself up from the terrace, fought forwarddoggedly for what seemed to her an age. 

A crevice barred the way. The fissure was too wide to step across and wasperhaps ten feet deep. Lee slid into it, slipped, and fell the last stepor two of the descent. She lay where she had fallen, too worn out tomove. 

It must have been almost at once that she fell asleep. 

The stars were out when she awakened, her muscles stiff and aching fromthe pressure of her weight upon the rock. The girl lay for a minutewondering where she was. Above was a narrow bar of starlit sky. The wallsof her pit of refuge were within touch of her finger tips. Then memory ofthe storm and her escape from it flashed back to her. 

She climbed easily the rough side of the cavern and looked around. Thewind had died so that not even a murmur of it remained. As far as the eyecould see the lava flow extended without a break. But she knew the cavernin which she had slept lay at a right angle to the line of her advance. All site had to do was to face forward and keep going till she reachedthe plain. The reasoning was sound, but it was based on a wrong premise. Lee had clambered out of the fissure on the opposite side from that bywhich she had entered. Every step she took now carried her farther intothe bad lands. 

Morning broke to find her completely at sea. Even the boasted weather ofthe Southwest played false. A drizzle of rain was in the air. Not untillate in the afternoon did the sun show at all and by that time thewanderer was so deep in the Mal-Pais that when night closed down againshe was still its prisoner. 

She was hungry and fagged. The soles of her boots were worn out and herfeet were badly blistered. Again she took refuge in a deep crevice forthe night. 

The loneliness appalled her. No living creature was to be seen. In allthis awful desolation she was alone. Her friends at Live-Oaks would thinkshe was at the Ninety-Four Ranch. Even if they searched for her she wouldnever be found. After horrible suffering she would die of hunger andthirst. She broke down at last and wept herself to sleep. 

Chapter XXVII

"A Lucky Guy"

Lee had the affrighted look of one roused suddenly from troubled dreams. The whimper that had drawn the attention of Prince must have come fromher restless, tortured sleep. Not till his second match flared had shebeen really awake. 

"Thank God!" he cried brokenly, all the pent emotion of the long nightvibrant in his tremulous voice. 

She began to sob, softly, pitifully. 

The match went out, but even in the blackness of the pit he could notescape the look of suffering he had seen on her face. Her habit was to doall things with high spirit. He could guess how much she had endured tobring those hollow shadows under her dusky eyes. The woe of the girltouched his heart sharply, as if with the point of a rapier. 

He stooped, lifted her gently, and gathered her like a hurt child intohis arms. "You poor lost lamb, " he murmured. And again he cried, "ThankGod, I came in time. "

Her arms crept round his neck. She clung to him for safety, fearfully, lest even now he might vanish from her sight. Long, ragged sobs shook thebody resting in his arms. He whispered words of comfort, stroked gentlythe dark head of blue-black hair, held her firmly so that she might knowshe had found a sure refuge from the fate that had so nearly devouredher. 

The spasmodic quivering of the body died away. She dabbed at her eyeswith a rag of a handkerchief and withdrew herself from his arms. 

"I'm a nice baby, " she explained with a touch of self-contempt. "But it'sbeen rather awful, Billie. I . .. I didn't know whether . .. "

"It's been the worst night of my life, " he agreed. "I've been in hell forhours, dear. If--if anything had happened to you--"

The heart of the girl beat fast. She told herself he did not mean--couldnot mean what, with a sudden warmth of joy, her soul hunger had readinto his words. 

Prince uncorked his canteen and she drank. He gave her sandwiches and shedevoured them. After he had helped her from the fissure he fired threeshots. Faintly from the left came the answering bark of a revolver. Whatmight almost have been an echo of it drifted from the right. 

Lee Snaith was the most competent young woman the sheriff had ever met. He knew her self-reliant and had always guessed her sufficient toherself. Toward him especially he had sensed a suggestion of coolhostility. They had been friends, but with a distinct note of reservationon her part. 

To-night the mask was off. She had come too close to raw reality to thinkof her pride. The morning light was sifting into the sky now. Billiecould see the girl more clearly as she sat on a slab of rock waiting forthe other searchers to join them. Was it his imagination that found inher an unwonted shyness of the dark eyes, a gentle timidity of mannerwhen she looked at him?

His emotion still raced at high tide. What an incomparable mate she wouldbe for any man! The rich contralto of her voice, the slow, graceful turnof the exquisite head, the vividness she brought to all her activities!How easy it was to light in her fine eyes laughter, indignation, the raresmile of understanding! Life with her would be an adventure into thehill-tops. With all his heart he yearned to take it beside her. 

There were strange flashes in his eyes to-night that signaled to her amessage she had despaired of ever receiving. The long lashes of the girlfell to the hot cheeks. A pulse of excitement beat in her blood. A fewminutes before she had clung to him despairingly. Now she wanted to runaway and hide. 

He stepped close to her and let his hand fall lightly on her arm. 

"I've been blind all these years, Lee, " he told her. "It's you I love. "

She stole a little look at him with shy, incredulous eyes. "Have youforgotten--Polly?"

"I haven't been in love with her for years, but I didn't know it tillabout the Christmas holidays. She was a habit with me. There never wasa sweeter girl than Polly Roubideau. I'll always think a heap of her. But--well, she had more sense than I had--knew all the time we weren'tcut out for each other. " He laughed a little, flushing withembarrassment. It is not the easiest thing in the world to explain to agirl why you have neglected her in favor of another. 

Lee trembled. The desire was strong in her to seize her happiness whileshe could. Surely she had waited long enough for it. But some impulse offair play to him or of justice to herself held back the tide of love shelonged to release. 

"I think . .. You are impulsive, " she said at last. "If you have anythingyou want to tell me, better wait until . .. "

"Not another moment!" he cried. "I've been in torment all night. I . .. Ithought I'd lost you forever. You don't care for me, of course. Younever have liked me very well, but--"

"Haven't I?" she breathed softly, not looking at him. 

Love irradiated and warmed her. She forgot all she had suffered duringthe years she had waited for him to know his mind. She forgot theprivations of the past two days. Her eyes were tender with the mist ofunshed tears. 

"It's going to be the biggest thing in my life. If there's any chance atall I'll wait as long as you like. Of course, the idea's new to youbecause you haven't ever thought of me that way--"

"You know so much about it, " she replied, a faint smile in her darkeyes that had in it something of wistfulness, something of self-mockery. She looked directly at him and let him have it full in the face. "I oughtto be ashamed of it, I suppose, but I'm not. I've thought of you--thatway--lots of times. All girls do, when they meet a man they like. "

"You like me?"

She might have told him that her heart had been his ever since that firstweek when she had met him and Clanton on the river. She might have addedthat all he had needed to do was to whisper "Come" and she would havegalloped across New Mexico to meet him. But she made no such confession. 

"Yes, I . .. Like you, " she said, a little tremor in her voice. 

He noticed that she did not look at him. Her eyes had fallen to thefingers laced together on her lap. Under compulsion of his steady gazeshe lifted her lashes at last. What he read there was beyond belief. The wonder of it lifted his feet from the earth. 

"Lee!" he cried, joy and fear in the balance. 

She answered his unspoken question with a little nod. 

His hand shook. "I've been a blind idiot, dear. I never guessed such athing. "

"You were thinking about Polly all the time. I don't blame you. She's thesweetest thing I ever knew. "

Billie sat down on the spar of rock beside her. His hand slipped down herarm till it covered hers. With the contact there came to him a flood ofcourage. He took her in his arms and kissed her with infinite tenderness. 

Still unstrung from her adventures, she wept a little into his shoulderout of a full heart. 

"D--don't mind me, " she urged. "It's just because I'm so happy. "

If Clanton, when he found them together a few minutes afterward, guessedwhat had happened, he gave no evidence of it but a grin, unless his latercomment had a cryptic meaning. "I'll bet Billie is the glad lad atfindin' you. He always was a lucky guy. "

"I think I'm a little lucky too, " Lee said with a grave smile. 

Before starting, Prince examined the soles of the girl's boots. Out ofhis hat he fashioned a pair of overshoes and fastened them with stringsto her feet. 

"They'll help some, " he promised. "I reckon you're not goin' to do muchwalkin' anyhow with three husky men along. "

By this time the searcher on the other flank had joined them. The returntrip was a long, hard one, but with Billie on one side of her, and Jim onthe other, Lee found it easy travelling. They aided her over the sharprocks and lifted her across the rougher stretches of lava. 

At the edge of the lava bed a buggy was waiting to take Lee to Live-Oaksin case she should be found. Prince helped Lee in and took the place ofthe boy who had driven it out. 

Clanton put his foot on the hub of the wheel. "Just a minute, Billie. I'mwanted for the killin' of Homer Webb. I didn't shoot him an' I don'tknow who did. Somebody must have been lyin' there in the chaparralwaitin' for him. I'll give myself up an' stand trial if you'll guaranteeme fair play. No lynchin' bee. No packed jury. All the cards dealt fairan' honest above the table. "

The sheriff had smiled at Pauline Roubideau's implicit faith in JimClanton's word. But now, face to face with his friend, he too believedand felt a load lift from his heart. 

"That's a deal, Jim. You won't have to reckon with any mob or anyhand-picked jury, I'll tell you the truth. I thought you did it. But ifyou say you didn't, that goes with me. I'll see you through. "

"Good enough. I'll drop in to-morrow an' we can fix things up. I'd liketo be tried outside of Washington County. There's too much prejudice hereone way an' another. Well, take this little lady home an' scold her goodfor the way she's been actin'. She'd ought to get married to a man thatwill look after her an' not let her go buckin' into cyclones. "

Billie smiled. "I'll talk to her about that, old scout. "

Miss Snaith blushed furiously, but the best she could do was a bit ofweak repartee. "I used to have hopes that you would ask me, Jim. "

Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em laughed with friendly malice. "I used to have hopes, too, in that direction, Lee, but I haven't any more. You be good to heror we also-rans will boil you in oil, Billie. "

Chapter XXVIII

Sheriff Prince Functions

"Yippy yip yip yip!"

Old Reb, Quantrell's ex-guerrilla, now boss of mule-skinners for Prince, galloped down the street waving an old dusty white hat. Women andchildren and old men dribbled out from the houses, all eager for thenews. 

"Billie he found Miss Lee in the Mal-Pais. That boy sure had his luckypants on to-day. She's all right too. I done seen her myself--just a mitetuckered out, as you might say, " explained the former cowpuncher. 

Live-Oaks shook hands with itself in exuberant joy. For an hour theschool bell pealed out the good news. A big bonfire blazed in thecourt-house square. Wise dames busied themselves baking bread and fryingdoughnuts and roasting beef for the rescue party now homeward bound. Itwas a certainty that their men-folks would all be hungry and ready for abig feed. 

By noon most of the searchers were back in town and the saloons weredoing big business. When Prince drove down the main street of Live-Oaksan hour later, the road was jammed as for a Fourth-of-July celebration. Tired though she was, Lee had not the heart to disappoint these goodfriends. She went to the picnic ground at Fremont's Grove and was huggedand kissed by all the woman at the dinner. She wept and was wept overtill her lover decided she had had all the emotion that was good for her, whereupon he took her back to the home of her aunt and with all thenewborn authority of his position ordered her to bed. 

"But it's only three o'clock in the afternoon, " Lee protested. 

"Good-night, " answered Billie inexorably. 

She surrendered meekly. "If you say I must, my lord. I _am_ awf'llytired. " Little globes of gladness welled up in her eyes. "Everybody's sogood to me, Billie. I didn't know folks were so kind. I can't think whatI can ever do to pay them back. "

"I'll tell you how. You be good to yourself, honey, " he told her with asudden wave of emotion as he caught and held her tight in his arms. "Youquit takin' chances with blizzards an' crazy gunmen an'--"

"--And horsethieves hidden in the chaparral?" she asked with a flash ofdemure eyes. 

"You're goin' to take an awful big chance with one ex-horsethief. Lee, I'm the luckiest fellow on earth. "

She nestled closer to him. Her lips trembled to his kiss. 

"Billie, you're sure, aren't you?" she whispered. "It wasn't just pityfor me. "

He chose to reassure her after the fashion of a lover, in that wordlesslanguage which is as old as Eden. 

His heart was full of her as he swung down the street buoyantly. Hehad known her saucy, scornful, and imperious. He had known her gayand gallant, had been the victim of her temper. Occasionally he hadseen glimpses of tenderness toward Pauline and of motherlinesstoward Jim Clanton. But never until last night had he found herdependent and clinging. Her defense against him had been a manner of coolself-reliance. In the stress of her need that had been swept aside toshow her flamy and yet shy, quick with innocent passion. She wanted himfor a mate, just as he wanted her, and she made no concealment of it. Inthe candor of her love he exulted. 

Lee slept round the clock almost twice and appeared for a late breakfast. Her aunt told her some news with which Live-Oaks was buzzing. 

Go-Get-'Em Jim had ridden into town, stopped at the sheriff's office, anddemanded cynically the thousand dollars offered by the Webb estate forhis arrest. 

"He'll come to no good end, " prophesied Miss Snaith, senior. 

"You don't quite understand him, aunt, " protested Lee. "That's just hisway. He likes to grand-stand, and he does it rather well. But he isn'thalf so bad as he makes out. He says he did not shoot Mr. Webb, and wefeel sure he didn't. "

"Of course he says so, " replied the older woman indignantly. "Whywouldn't he say so? But Dad Wrayburn was there and saw it all. There hasbeen a lot too much promiscuous killing and he's one of the worst of thelot, your Jim Clanton is. Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em, indeed! I hope the law goesand gets him now it has a chance. "

The opinion of Lee's aunt was in accord with the general sentiment. Washington County had within the past year suffered a change of heart. Ithad put behind its back the wild and reckless days of its youth whenevery man was a law to himself. Bar-room orators talked virtuously of lawand order. They said it behooved the county to live down its evilreputation as the worst in the United States. Times had changed. Thewatchword now should be progress. It ought no longer to be arecommendation to a man that he could bend a six-gun surer and quickerthan other folks. "Movers" in white-topped wagons were settling up thecountry. A railroad had pushed in to Live-Oaks. There was a lot of talkabout Eastern capital becoming interested in irrigation and mining. Itwas high time to remember that Live-Oaks and Los Portales were not nowfrontier camps, but young cities. 

Since Live-Oaks had been good for so short a time it wanted to prove by ashining example how it abhorred the lawlessness of its youth. At thisinopportune moment Clanton gave himself up to be tried for the murder ofHomer Webb. 

When the news spread that Clanton had been given a change of venue andwas to be tried at Santa Fe, the citizens of Live-Oaks were distinctlyannoyed. It was known that the sheriff had always been a good friend ofthe accused man. The whisper passed that if he ever took Go-Get-'Em Jimout of the county the killer would be given a chance to escape. 

Into town from the chaparral drifted the enemies Clanton had made duringhis career as a gunman. Yankie and Albeen and Dumont and Bancock moved toand fro in the crowds at the different gambling places and saloons. EvenRoush, who in the past three years had never given young Clanton anopportunity to meet him face to face, stole furtively into the tendejonsof the Mexican quarter and spent money freely in treating. Among thenatives Go-Get-'Em Jim was in ill-repute for shooting a bad man namedJuan Ortez who had attempted to terrorize the town while on a spree. 

"We're spendin' a lot of good money on this job. We'd ought to pull itoff, " Dumont whispered to Albeen. 

"Whose money?" asked the one-armed man cynically. 

It struck him as an ironic jest that the money they had got from the saleof Homer Webb's cattle should be spent to bring about the lynching of theman who had killed him. 

Both the sheriff and his deputy were out of town rounding up a half-breedMexican who had stabbed another at a dance. They reached Live-Oaks withtheir prisoner about the middle of the afternoon. Lee was waiting forthem impatiently at the court-house. 

"They're planning to lynch Jim, " she told Prince abruptly. 

"Who's goin' to do all that?" he asked. 

"The riff-raff of the county are back of it, but the worst of it is thatthey've got a lot of good people in with them. Some of the Flying V Yriders are in town too. I never saw so much drinking before. "

"When is it to be?"

"I don't know. "

"Who told you?"

"Bud Proctor. He says Yankie and Albeen and that crowd are spendinghundreds of dollars at the bars. "

"I knew there was somethin' on foot soon as we hit town--felt it in theair. " The sheriff looked at his watch. "We can just catch the afternoontrain, Jack. Take this bird downstairs an' lock him up. I'll join you ina minute. "

"What are you going to do?" asked Lee as soon as they were alone. 

"Goin' to slip Jim aboard the train an' take him to Santa Fe. "

"Can you do it without being seen?"

"I'll tell you that later, " he answered with a grim smile. "Much obliged, honey. I'm goin' to be right busy now, but I'll see you soon as I getback to town. "

Lee nodded good-bye and wait out. She liked it in him that just now hehad no time even for her. From the door she glanced back. Already he wasbusy getting his guns ready. 

Prince got his keys and unlocked the room where Clanton was. Jim was onthe bed reading an old newspaper. 

"Hello, Billie, " he grinned. 

"We're leaving on the afternoon train, Jim. Get a move on you an' hustleyore things together. "

"Thought you weren't goin' till next week. "

"Changed my mind. Jim, there's trouble afoot. Yore enemies are all intown. I want to get you away. "

Clanton did not bat an eye. "Plannin' a necktie party, are they?"

"They've got notions. Mine are different. " "Do I get a gun if it comes toa showdown, Billie?"

"You do. I'll appoint you a deputy. "

Jim laughed. "That sounds reasonable. "

Goodheart joined them. The three men left the back door of thecourt-house and cut across the square. The station was three blocksdistant. Before they had covered a hundred yards a boy on the other sideof the street stopped, stared at them, and disappeared into the nearestsaloon. 

The prisoner looked at his friend and grinned gayly. "Somethin' stirrin'soon. We're liable to have a breeze in this neighborhood, looks like. "

They reached the station without being molested, but down the streetcould be seen much bustle of men running to and fro. Prince looked atthem anxiously. 

"The clans are gathering, " murmured Clanton nonchalantly, his hands inhis pockets. "Don't you reckon maybe you'll have to feed me to thewolves after all, Billie?"

A saddled horse blinked in the sun beside the depot, the bridle reintrailing on the ground. Its owner sat on a dry-goods box and whittled. Jim glanced at the bronco casually. Jack Goodheart also observed thecowpony. He whispered to the sheriff. 

Prince turned to his prisoner. "Jim, you can take that horse an' hit thedust, if you like. "

"Meanin' that you can't protect me?"

The salient jaw of the sheriff tightened. He looked what he was, a manamong ten thousand, quiet and forceful, strong as tested steel. 

"You'll have exactly the same chance to weather this that we will. "

A mob of men was moving down the street in loose formation. There wasstill time for a man to fling himself into the saddle and gallop away. 

"You'd rather I'd stay, Billie. "

"Yes. I'm sheriff. I'd like to show this drunken outfit they can't take aprisoner from me. "

Clanton gave a little whoop of delight. "Go to it, son. You're law westof the Pecos. Let's see you make it stick. "

Live-Oaks was as yet the terminus of the railroad. The train backed intothe station just as the first of the mob arrived. 

"Nothin' doin', Prince, " announced Yankie, swaggering forward. "You'renot goin' to take this fellow Clanton away. We've come to get him. "

"That's right, " agreed Albeen. 

Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em grinned. "Makes twice now you've come to get me. "

"We didn't make it go last time. Different now, " said Bancock, movingforward. 

"That's near enough, " ordered Prince. "You've made a mistake, boys. I'msheriff of Washington County, and this man's my prisoner. "

"He's yore old side kick, too, ain't he?" jeered Yankie. 

Goodheart, following the orders he had received, moved forward to theengine and climbed into the cab beside the engineer and fireman. Thesheriff and his prisoner backed to the steps of the smoking-car. Billiehad had a word with the brakeman, his young friend Bud Proctor, who hadat once locked the door at the other end of the smoker. 

"Now, " said Prince in a low voice. 

Jim ran up lightly to the platform of the coach and passed inside. A howlof anger rose from the mob. There was a rush forward. Billie was on thelower step. His long leg lifted, the toe caught Yankie on the point ofthe chin, and the rustler went back head first into the crowd as thoughhe had been shot from a catapult. 

Instantly Prince leaped for the platform and whirled on the mob. He heldnow a gun in each hand. His eyes glittered dangerously as they sweptthe upturned faces. They carried to every man in the crowd the messagethat his prisoner could not be taken as long as the sheriff was alive. 

Clanton threw open a window of the coach, rested his arms on the sill, and looked out. Again there was a roar of rage and a forward surge of thedense pack on the station platform. 

"He ain't even got irons on the man's hands!" a voice shouted. "It's aframe-up to git him away from us!"

"Don't hide back there in the rear, Roush. Come right up to the front an'tell me that, " called back Prince. "You're right about one thing. I don'tneed to handcuff Clanton. He has surrendered for trial, an' I'm here tosee he gets a fair one. I'll do it if I have to put irons _in_ hishands--shootin' irons. "

Jim Clanton, his head framed in the window, laughed insolently. He was apicture of raffish, devil-may-care ease. 

"Don't let Billie bluff you, boys. We can't bump off more'n a dozen or soof you. Hop to it. "

"You won't laugh so loud when the rope's round yore gullet, " retortedAlbeen. 

"That rope ain't woven, yet, " flung back the young fellow coolly. 

Even as he spoke a lariat whistled through the air. Jim threw up a handand the loop slid harmlessly down the side of the car. One of the ridersof the Flying V Y had tried to drag the prisoner out with a reata. 

"You mean well, but you'll never win a roping contest, Syd, " jeeredClanton. "Good of you an' all my old friends to gather here to see meoff, I see you back there, Roush. It's been some years since we met, an'me always lookin' for you to say to you a few well-chosen words. I'llshoot straighter next time. "

The vigilantes raised a howl of fury. They were like a wolf pack eagerfor the kill. Between them and their prey stood one man, cool, indomitable, steady as a rock. He held death in each hand, every manpresent knew it. They could get Clanton if they were willing to pay theprice, but though there were game men in the mob, not one of themwanted to be the first to put his foot on the lower step of the coach. 

From the other end of the car came the sudden noise of hammering. Someone had found a sledge in the baggage-room and with a dozen armed menback of him was trying to break down the door. 

Prince called to his prisoner. "You've got to get in this, Jim. I appointyou deputy sheriff. Unstrap this belt from my waist. Take the other endof the car an' hold it. No shootin' unless it comes to a showdown. Understand?"

Clanton nodded. His eyes gleamed. "I'll behave proper, Billie. "

Five seconds later the beating on the door stopped. The eyes of the bigblacksmith with the hammer popped out with a ludicrous terror. Go-Get-'EmJim was standing in the aisle grinning at him with a six-gun in eachhand. With a wild whoop the horseshoer dropped the sledge and turned. Heflung himself down the steps carrying with him half a dozen others. Nottill he was safe in his own shop two blocks away did he stop running. 

A shrill whistle rang out from the side of the train farthest from thestation. The wheels began to move slowly. There was a rush for theengine. Jack Goodheart stood in the door of the cab ready for business. 

"No passengers allowed here, boys, " he announced calmly. "Take thecoaches in the rear. "

A dozen revolvers cracked. There was a rattle of breaking windows. Theengine, baggage-car, and smoker moved forward, leaving the rest of thetrain on the track. 

Men, swarming like ants, had climbed to the top of the cars, evidentlywith some idea of getting at their victim from above. Some of these wereon the forward coaches. They began to drop off hurriedly as the stationfell to the rear. 

The wheels turned faster. Bud Proctor swung aboard and joined thesheriff. 

"I cut off the other cars and gave the signal to start, " he explainedtriumphantly. 

"Good boy, Bud. Knew I could tie to you, " Prince answered with the warmsmile that always won him friends. 

They passed into the car together. Clanton was leaning far out of thewindow waving a mocking hand of farewell to the crowd on the platform. Hedrew his head in and handed the weapons back to his friend. 

"Don't I make a good deputy, Billie? I didn't fire even once. "

Chapter XXIX

"They Can't Hang Me If I ain't There"

The jury brought in a verdict of murder in the first degree. Clanton wassentenced to be hanged at Live-Oaks four weeks after the day the trialended. Prince himself had been called back to Washington County to dealwith a band of rustlers who had lately pulled off a series of bold, wholesale cattle thefts. He left Goodheart to bring the prisoner backwith him in case of a conviction. 

The deputy sheriff left the train at Los Vegas, to which point Prince hadsent a man with horses to meet Jack and the convicted murderer. It wasnot likely that the enemies of Clanton would make another attempt tofrustrate the law, but there was a chance that they would. Goodheart didnot take the direct road to Live-Oaks, but followed the river valleytoward Los Portales. 

The party reached the Roubideau ranch at dusk of the third night. Paulinehad been at the place three months keeping house for her father. She flewto meet Jim, her eyes filled with a divine pity. Both hands went out tohis manacled ones impulsively. Her face glowed with a soft, welcomingwarmth. 

"You poor boy! You poor, poor boy!" she cried. Then, flaming, she turnedon Goodheart: "Bel et bien! Why do you load him down with chains? Are youafraid of him?"

The deputy flushed. "I have no right to take any chances of an escape. You know that. "

"I know he is innocent. Why did they find him guilty?"

"I had no evidence, " explained Jim simply. "Dad Wrayburn swore I shottwice at Webb just before I disappeared in the brush. Then a shot cameout of the chaparral. It's not reasonable to suppose some one else firedit, especially when the bullet was one that fitted a forty-four. "

"But you didn't fire it. You told me so in your letter. "

"My word didn't count with the jury. I'd have to claim that, anyhow, tosave my life. My notion is that the bullet didn't come from a six-gun atall, but from a seventy-three rifle. But I can't prove that either. "

"It isn't fair. It--it's an outrage. " Polly burst into tears and took theslim young fellow into her arms. "They ought to know you wouldn't dothat. Why didn't your friends tell them so?"

He smiled, a little wistfully. "A gunman doesn't have friends, Polly. Outside of you an' Lee an' Billie I haven't any. All the newspapers inthe territory an' all the politicians an' most of the decent people havebeen pullin' for a death sentence. Well, they've got it. " He stroked herhair softly. "Don't you worry, girl. They won't get a chance to hang me. "

Pauline released him, dabbed at her eyes, and ran, choking, into thehouse. 

"You've got to be in trouble to make a real hit with Miss Roubideau, "suggested the lank deputy, a little bitterly. "I'll take those braceletsoff now, Clanton. You can wash for supper. "

Polly saw to it, anyhow, that the prisoner had the best to eat there wasin the house. She made a dinner of spring chicken, mashed potatoes, hotbiscuits, jelly, and apple pie. 

A rider for the Flying V Y dropped in after they had eaten and bridledlike a turkey cock at sight of Clanton. 

"Don't you let him git away from you, Jack, " he warned the officer. "We're allowin' to have a holiday on the sixth up at our place so as togo to the show. It _is_ the sixth, ain't it?" he jeered, turning to thehandcuffed man on the lounge. 

"The sixth is correct, " answered Jim coolly, meeting him eye to eye. 

"You wouldn't talk that way if Clanton was free, " said Goodheart. "You'retaggin' yoreself a bully an' a cheap skate when you do it. "

"Say, is that any of yore business, Mr. Deputy Sheriff?"

"It is when you talk to my prisoner. Cut it out, Swartz. "

"All right. "

The cowpuncher turned to Pauline, who had come to the door and stoodthere. "You'll be goin' to the big show on the sixth, Miss Roubideau. Live-Oaks will be a sure-enough live town that day. "

The young woman walked straight up to the big cowpuncher. Her eyesblazed. "Get out of this house. Don't ever come here again. Don't speakto me if you meet me. "

The Flying V Y rider was taken aback. Like a good many young fellowswithin a radius of a hundred miles, he was a candidate for the favor ofPierre Roubideau's daughter. 

"Why, I--I--" he stammered. "I didn't aim for to offend you. This fellowbushwhacked my boss. He--"

"That isn't true, " she interrupted. "He didn't do it. "

"Sure he did it. Go-Get-'Em Jim is a killer. A girl like you, MissRoubideau, has got no business stickin' up for a bad man who--"

"Didn't you hear me? I told you to go. "

"You've been invited to remove yoreself from the place an' become a partof the outdoor scenery, Swartz, " cut in Goodheart, a snap to his jaw. "I'd take that invite pronto if I was you. "

The cowpuncher picked up his hat and walked out. The drawling voice ofthe prisoner followed him. 

"Don't you worry, Polly. They can't hang me if I ain't there, can they?"

The deputy guessed that Pauline wished to talk alone with Clanton. Presently he arose and sauntered to the door. "I want to see yore fatherabout some horses Billie needs. Back soon. "

He gave them a half-hour, but he took pains to see that his assistantcovered the back door while he watched the front of the house. Theprisoner was handcuffed, but Jack did not intend to take any chances. Personally he believed that Clanton was guilty, but whether he was or notit was his duty to bring the convicted man safely to Live-Oaks. This hemeant to do. 

Chapter XXX

Polly has a Plan

Pauline moved across the room and sat down beside Jim. An eager lightshone in her soft, brown eyes. 

"Listen!" she ordered in a low voice. "I've got a plan. There's a chancethat it will work, I think. But tell me first about your sleepingarrangements. Does Jack or the other guard sit up and watch you all thetime?"

"No. The champion roper of New Mexico, Arizona, an' Texas throws thediamond hitch on yours truly. He does an expert job, tucks me up, an'says good-night. He knows I'm perfectly safe till mornin', especiallysince both he an' Brad sleep in the same room with me. "

"Well, I'm going to give you dad's room. " She leaned forward andwhispered to him steadily for five minutes. 

The sardonic mockery had vanished from the face of the prisoner. Helistened, every nerve and fiber of him at alert attention. Occasionallyhe asked a question. Carefully she explained the plan, going over eachdetail of it again and again. 

Jim Clanton was efficient. In those days it was a necessary quality for abad man if he wished to continue to function. He offered a suggestion ortwo which Pauline incorporated in her proposed campaign of action. Atbest her scheme was hazardous. It depended upon all things dovetailingproperly. But he was in no place to pick and choose. All he asked was achance and an even break of luck. 

"You dandy girl!" he cried softly, and took her two hands between thepalms of his fettered ones. "I'm a scalawag, Polly. But if you pull thisoff for me, I'll right-about-face. That's a promise. Somehow I've neveracted like I wanted to. I've done a heap of wild an' foolish things, an'I've killed whenever it was put up to me. I don't reckon any woman thatmarried me would be real happy. But if you'll take a chance 111 go awayfrom here an' well Make a fresh start. You're the only girl there is forme. "

A faint smile lay in her eyes. "You used to think Lee was the only girl, didn't you?"

"Well, I don't now. I like Polly Roubideau better. "

Abruptly she flung at him a statement that was a question. "You didn'tkill Mr. Webb. "

"No. I never killed but one man without givin' him an even break. Thatwas Peg-Leg Warren, an' he was a cold-blooded murderer. "

A troubled little frown creased her forehead. "I've thought for more thana year now that you--liked me that way. And I've had it in my minda great deal as to what I ought to do if you spoke to me about it. I wishyou had a good wife, Jim. Maybe she could save you from yourself. "

"Mebbe she could, Polly. "

The lashes of her eyelids fell. She looked down at the bands of ironaround his small wrists. "I--I've prayed over it, Jim. But I'm not clearthat I've found an answer. " Her low voice broke a little. "I don't knowwhat to say. "

"Is it that you are afraid of what I'm goin' to be? Can't you trust yorelife with me? I shouldn't think you could. "

Her eyes lifted and met his bravely. "I think that wouldn't stop meif--if I cared for you that way. "

"It's Billie Prince, then, is it?"

"No, it isn't Billie Prince. Never mind who it is. What I must decide iswhether I can make you the kind of wife you need without being exactly--"

"In love with me, " he finished for her. 

"Yes. I've always liked you very much. You've been good to me. I love youlike a brother, I think. Oh, I don't know how to say it. "

"Let's get this straight, Polly. Is there some one else you love?"

A tide of color flooded her face to the roots of the hair. She met hissteady look reluctantly. 

"We needn't discuss that, Jim. "

"Needn't we?" He laughed a little, but his voice was rough with feeling. "You're the blamedest little pilgrim ever I did see. What kind of afellow do you think I am? I ain't good enough for you--not by a thousandmiles. Even if you felt about me the way I do about you, it would be abig risk for you to marry me. But now--Sho, little missionary, I ain't soselfish as to let you sacrifice yore life for me. "

"If I marry you it will be because I want to, Jim. "

"You'll want to because you're such a good little Christian you thinkit's up to you to save a brand from the burning. But I won't let you doany such foolishness. You go marry that other man. If he's a good, square, decent fellow, you'll be a whole lot better off than if you tiedup with a ne'er-do-well like me. "

They heard a step on the porch. 

"Don't forget. Three taps if you're alone in the room, " she said in awhisper. 

Goodheart came into the parlor with Pierre Roubideau. "Expect we'd betterturn in, Clanton. We've got to make an early start to-morrow. "

The prisoner rose at once. Pauline had drawn her father aside and wasgiving him some instructions. The old Frenchman nodded, smiling. Heunderstood her little feminine devices and was a cheerful victim of them. 

The young woman found a chance for a word alone with the deputy. 

"I want to see you to-night, Jack, about--something. " Her eyes were verybright and the color in the soft cheeks high. She spoke almost in awhisper. 

The lank young sheriff had the soul of an inarticulate poet. Beneath thetan of his leathery face the blood burned. This was the first really kindword he had had from her since their arrival. All her solicitation hadbeen for the condemned youth in his care. Perhaps all she wanted now wasto ask some favor for Clanton, but hope leaped in his heart. 

He made arrangements for the night in his usual careful way. It was notpleasant to have to watch the prisoner as a cat does a mouse, butGoodheart was thorough in whatever he undertook. Skillfully he tiedClanton in such a way as to allow him enough freedom of motion to changeposition without giving him enough to make it possible for him to untiehimself. 

"Back after a while" he told Jim. 

The young man on the bed grunted sleepily and the deputy returned to theparlor. 

Pauline, still in her kitchen apron, smiled in at the door upon him andher father. 

"You two go out on the porch and smoke your pipes, " she said. "I have tofinish my work in the kitchen, then I have to go down to the cellar andtake care of the milk. Ill not be long. "

Pierre, an obedient parent, rose and moved toward the porch. Beforehe left the room Goodheart took the precaution to lock the bedroomdoor and pocket the key. He was a little ashamed of this, but he knewthat Go-Get-'Em Jim was a very competent and energetic person. Convictedand sentenced though he was, Clanton still boasted with cool aplomb thatthere would be no hanging on the sixth. The deputy strolled round to theback of the house to make sure his assistant was still on the job. Aftera few words with the man he returned to the porch. He was satisfied therewas no possible chance of an escape. The prisoner lay handcuffed and tiedto a bed by the champion roper of the Southwest. The door of the room waslocked Both exits from the house were guarded. Jack felt that he couldsafely enjoy a smoke. 

Chapter XXXI

Goodheart Makes a Promise and Breaks It

Pauline was a singularly honest little soul, but she now discovered inherself unsuspected capacity for duplicity. She went singing about herwork, apparently care-free as a lark. Presently, still humming a Frenchchanson, she appeared on the porch swinging a key, passed the two menwith a gay little nod, and disappeared around the corner of the houseto the cellar. 

The rancher apologized for the key. "We've had to lock the cellar latelysince so many movers have been going through on this road. Eh bien! Ourhams--they took wings and flew. "

Polly rattled the milk pans for a moment or two and then listened. Fromabove there came to her the sound of three faint raps on the woodwork ofthe bed. She crept up the stairs that led from the cellar into the house. At the top of them was a trapdoor. Very slowly and carefully she pushedthis up. Through the opening she passed into a bedroom. 

Softly the girl stole to the bed. From the cellar she had brought abutcher knife and with this she sawed at the rope which bound theprisoner. 

"But your handcuffs. What can we do about them?" she whispered. 

Clanton stretched his stiff muscles. He made no answer in words. For amoment or two his arms writhed, then from out of the iron bracelet hislong slender hand slowly twisted. Soon the second wrist was also free. 

"I've had a lot of fun poked at my girl hands, but they come in usefulsometimes, " he murmured. 

"I'll have to hurry back or I'll be missed, " she told him. "You'll find asaddled horse in the aspens. "

He caught her by the shoulders and held her fast. "You've been thetruest little friend ever a man had. You've stuck by me an' believed inme even when I didn't believe in myself any longer. No matter what folkssaid about me or about you for takin' an interest in such a scamp, younever quit fightin' to keep me decent. I've heard tell of guardianangels--well, that's what you've been to me, little pilgrim. "

"I haven't forgotten the boy who rode up Escondido Cañon to save me fromdeath and dishonor, " Pauline cried softly. 

"You've paid that debt fifty times. I owe you more than I can tell. Iwisht I knew a way to pay it. "

Her soft and dusky eyes clung to his pleadingly. "If you get away, Jim, you _will_ be good, won't you?"

"I'll be as good as I've got it in me to be. I don't know how good thatis, Polly. But I'll do my level best. "

"Oh, I'm so glad, " she whispered. "Good luck--heaps of it. "

He was not quite sure whether it was his privilege to kiss the parted redlips upturned to him, but he took a chance and was not rebuked. 

Pauline went noiselessly down the steps again into the cellar whileClanton held the trapdoor. He lowered it inch by inch so that it wouldnot creak, then spread over it the Navajo rug that had been there beforethe entrance of the girl. 

Pierre Roubideau was still on his first pipe when Polly came round thecorner of the house and stopped at the porch steps. 

"I want to show you our new colt, Jack, " she said to the deputy. Thismatter-of-fact statement came a little shyly and a little tremulouslyfrom her lips. Her heart was beating furiously. 

The officer rose at once. "Just a minute, " he said, and went into thehouse. 

He unlocked the door of the room where Clanton was and glanced in. Theprisoner lay on the bed in the moonlight, the blankets drawn over him. From his deep, regular breathing Jack judged him to be asleep. Herelocked the door and joined Pauline. 

The face of the girl was very white in the moonlight. Her big eyesflashed at him a question. Had he discovered that his prisoner was free?

They walked slowly toward the corral. From it Goodheart could see thefront of the house, but not the cellar entrance at the side. Neither ofthem spoke until they reached the fence. He turned and leaned his elbowsagainst it, facing the house. 

Pauline was under great nervous tension. Her lips were dry and her throatparched. If the guard at the rear caught sight of the prisoner while hewas escaping, Clanton would certainly be shot down. She knew Jim betterthan to hope that he would let himself be taken again alive. 

The conscience of the girl troubled her too. She was doing this to savethe life of a friend, but it was impossible not to feel a sense oftreachery toward this other friend whose approval was so much morevital to her happiness. Would Jack think that she had conspired againsthis honor in an underhanded way? He was a man of strict principles. Wouldhe cast her off and have no more to do with her?

She woke from her worries to discover that an emotional climax wasimminent. Jack was telling her, in awkward, broken phrases, of his lovefor her. Polly had waited a long time for his confession, but coming atthis hour it filled/her with shame and distress. What an evil chance thathe should be blurting out the story of his faith and trust in herwhile she was in the act of betraying him!

"Don't, Jack, don't!" she begged. 

"It's all right, " he said gently. "I know you don't care for me. But Ihad to tell you. Just had to do it. Couldn't keep still any longer. It'sall right, Polly. I can stand it. I didn't go for to worry you. "

She wept. 

Her tears distressed him. He urged her to forget his presumption. She hadbeen so good to him that he had spoken in spite of himself. 

Pauline found she could not let him deceive himself. If she let him gonow, perhaps he might never come back. 

"You goose!"

Though the words came smothered through her handkerchief, he gainedincredible comfort from them. 

"Polly!" he cried. 

"Don't you say a word, Jack, " she ordered. "Let me do the talking. "

"If you'll tell me that--that--you care anything for--for--"

"--For a big stupid who is too modest ever to think enough of himself, "she completed. "Well, I do. I care a great deal for him. "

"You don't mean--"

"I do, too. That's just what I mean. No, you keep back there till I'mthrough, Jack. I want to find out if you love me as much as I do you. "

"Polly!" he cried a second time. 

Her small face was very serious and white in the moonshine. 

"Suppose we don't agree about something. Say I do a thing that seemsright to me, but it doesn't seem right to you. What then?"

"It'll seem right to me if you do it, " he answered. 

"That's just a compliment. "

"No, it's the truth. Whatever you do seems right to me. "

"But suppose I do something that you think is wrong. Perhaps it may seemto you disloyal. "

"If you do it because you think you ought to I'll not find it disloyal. "

"Sure, Jack?"

"Certain sure, " he answered. 

"It's a promise?"

"It's a promise. "

Little imps of mischief bubbled into the brown eyes. "Then why don't youkiss me, goose?"

He caught her to him with a fierce rapture. 

There came to them the sudden sound of drumming hoofs. A shot rang out inthe night. Goodheart, with the first kiss of his sweetheart almost on hislips, flung Pauline aside and ran to the house. 

The other guard met him at the front steps. "By God, he's gone!" the mancried. 

"Clanton?"

"Yep. "

"Can't be. He was handcuffed, tied to the bed, and locked in. I've gotthe key in my pocket. "

The deputy sheriff took the steps at one bound, flung himself across theparlor, and unlocked the door. One glance showed him the empty bed, thedisplaced rug, and the trapdoor. He stepped forward and picked up thebits of rope and the handcuffs. 

"Some one cut the rope and freed him, " he said, confounded at theimpossibility of the thing that had occurred. 

"Must of slipped his hands out of the cuffs, looks like, " the guardsuggested. 

"He got me to give him a bigger size--complained they chafed his wrists. "

"Some trick that, if he _has_ got kid hands. "

The chill eyes of Goodheart gimleted into those of his assistant. "Didyou do this, Brad? God help you if you did. "

A light step sounded on the threshold. Pauline came into the room. "I didit, Jack, " she said. 

"You!"

"I came up through the trapdoor when I was in the cellar. I cut the ropeand told him there was a horse saddled in the aspens. "

Thoughts raced in his bewildered mind. She had planned all thiscarefully. Almost under his very eyes she had done it. Then she had luredhim from the house to give Clanton a better chance. She had let him makelove to her so that she could keep him at the corral while the prisonerescaped. It was all a trick. Even now she was laughing up her sleeveat the way she had made a fool of him. 

"You saddled the horse and left it there. " His statement was a question, too. 

"Yes. I had to save him. I knew he was innocent. "

All the explanations she had intended shriveled up before the scorn inhis eyes. He brushed past her without a word and strode out of the house. 

Pauline went to her room and flung herself on the bed. After a time herfather came in and sat down beside the girl. He put a gentle hand on hershoulder. 

"I know what you think, dad, " she said without turning her head. "But Icouldn't help it, I had to do it. "

"It may make you trouble, ma petite. "

"I can't help that. Jim didn't kill Mr. Webb. I know it. "

"After a fair trial a jury said he did, Polly. We have to take their wordfor it. "

"You think I did wrong then. "

"You did what you think was right. In my heart is no blame for you. "

He comforted her as best he could and left her to sleep. But she did notsleep. All through the night she lay and listened. She was miserablyunhappy. Her head and her heart ached. Jack had promised that she shouldbe the judge of what was right for her to do, and at the first test hehad failed her. She made excuses for him, but the hurt of herdisappointment could not be assuaged. 

In the early morning she heard the clatter of horses' hoofs in the yard. During the night she had not undressed. Now she rose and went out to meether lover. He was at the stable, a gaunt figure, hollow-eyed, dusty, andstern. He had failed to recapture his prisoner. 

"Jack, " she pleaded, reaching out a hand timidly toward him. 

Again he rejected her advance in grim silence. Swinging to the saddle, herode out of the gate and down the road toward Live-Oaks. 

With a little whimper Polly moved blindly to the house through her tears. 

Chapter XXXII

Jim Takes a Prisoner

After Goodheart left the room where his prisoner was confined, Clantonwaited a few moments till the sound of his footsteps had died away. Herose, moved noiselessly across the floor, and raised the trapdoor slowly. The creaking of the rusty hinges seemed to Jim to be shouting aloud thenews of his escape. The young fellow descended into the cellar and stoodthere without moving till his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. Hegroped his way to the door, which Pauline had left open an inch ortwo. Carefully he edged through and crouched in the gloom at the foot ofthe steps. 

Not far away some one was whistling cheerfully. Clanton recognized thetune as the usual musical offertory of Brad. He was giving "Uncle Ned" toan unappreciative world. 

The fugitive crept up the steps and peered over the top. Brad was sittingon a bench against the wall. Evidently he was quite comfortable and hadno intention of moving. The guard was so near that it would not be a fairrisk to try to make a dash across the moonlit open for the aspen grove. He was so far that before the prisoner could reach him his gun would bein action. There was nothing to do but wait. Jim huddled against thesustaining wall while with the passing minutes his chance of escapedipped away. 

Pierre Roubideau came round the corner of the house and joined Brad. Theguard made room for him on the bench. If Roubideau sat down, the manin the shadow knew he was lost. They would sit there and chat tillGoodheart came back and discovered his absence. 

The rancher hesitated while he felt for his pipe. "Reckon I left it inthe kitchen, " he said. 

Brad followed him round the corner of the house. Clanton waited nolonger. They might return, or they might not. He did not intend to stayto find out. 

Swiftly he ran toward the aspens. Half the distance he had covered when avoice called sharply to halt. The guard had turned and caught sight ofhim. 

The feet of the running man slapped the ground faster. As he dodged intothe trees a bullet flew past him. Yet a moment, and he had flung himselfastride the bronco waiting there and had electrified that sleepy animalinto life. 

The pony struck its stride immediately. It took the rising ground at agallop, topped the hill, and disappeared over the brow. The rider plungedinto the thick mesquite. He knew that Goodheart would pursue, but heknew, too, that the odds were a hundred to one against capture if hecould put a mile or two between him and the Roubideau ranch. A man couldvanish in any one of fifty draws. He could find a temporary hiding-placeup any gulch under cover of the matted brush. Therefore he turned towardthe mountains. 

Since he was unarmed, it was essential that Clanton should get into touchwith his associates of the chaparral at once. Until he had a six-gunstrapped to his side and a carbine under his leg he would not feelcomfortable. All night he traveled, winding in and out of cañons, crossing divides, and dipping down into little mountain parks. He knewexactly where he wanted to go, and he moved toward his destination in theline of greatest economy. 

Morning found him descending from a mountain pass to the Ruidosa. 

"Breakfast soon, you wall-faced old Piute, " Jim told his mount. "You'resure a weary caballo, but we got to keep hitting the trail till we crossthat hogback. "

A thin film of smoke rose from a little valley to the left. Clanton drewup abruptly. He had no desire to meet now any strangers whose intentionshad not been announced. 

Swiftly, with a pantherish smoothness of motion, he slid from the cowponyand moved to the edge of a bluff that looked down into the arroyo below. He crept forward and peered through a clump of cactus growing at the edgeof the escarpment. 

The camp-fire was at the very foot of the bluff. A man was stooped overit cooking breakfast. 

The heart of the fugitive lost a beat, then raced wildly. The camper wasDevil Dave Roush. A rifle lay beside him. His revolver was in a cartridgebelt that had been tossed on a boulder within reach of his hand. 

Clanton wriggled back without a sound from the edge of the cliff and roseto his feet. A savage light of triumph blazed in his eyes. The enemyfor whom he had long sought was delivered into his hands. He ran back tothe bronco and untied the reata from the tientos. Deftly he coiled therope and adjusted the loop to suit him. Again he stole to the rim rockand waited with the stealthy, deadly patience of the crouched cougar. 

Roush rose. His arms fell to his sides. Instantly the rope dropped, uncoiling as it flew. With perfect accuracy the loop descended upon itsvictim and tightened about his waist, pinning the arms close to the body. 

Clanton, hauled in the rawhide swiftly. Dragged from his feet, Roushcould make no resistance. Before he could gather his startled wits, hefound himself dangling in midair against the face of the rock wall. 

The man above fastened the end of the rope to the roots of a scrub oakand ran down the slope at full speed. In less than half a minute he wasstanding breathless in front of his prisoner. 

Already shaken with dread, Roush gave way to panic fear at sight of him. 

"Goddlemighty! It's Clanton!" he cried. 

Jim buckled on the belt and appropriated the rifle. His grim face toldRoush all he needed to know. 

There had been a time when Roush, full of physical life and energy, hadboasted that he feared no living man. In his cups he still bragged of hisbad record, of his accuracy as a gunman, of his gameness. But he knew, and his associates suspected, that Devil Dave had long since drunk up hiscourage. His nerves were jumpy and his heart bad. Now he begged for hislife abjectly. If he had been free from the rope that held him danglingagainst the wall, he would have crawled like a whipped cur to the feet ofhis enemy. 

At a glance Clanton saw Roush had been camping alone. The hobbledhorse, the blankets, the breakfast dishes, all told him this. But hetook no chances. First he saddled the horse and brought it close to thecamp-fire. When he sat down to eat the breakfast the rustler had cooked, it was with his back to the bluff and the rifle across his knees. 

"This here rope hurts tur'ble--seems like my wrists are on fire, " whinedthe man. "You let me down, Mr. Clanton, and I'll explain eve'ything. Iwant to be yore friend. I sure do. I don't feel noways onfriendly to you. Mebbe I used to be a bad lot, but I'm a changed man now. "

Go-Get-'Em Jim said nothing. He had not spoken once, and his silencefilled the roped man with terror. The shifting eyes of Devil Dave readdoom in the cold, still ones of his enemy. 

Sometimes Roush argued in a puling whimper. Sometimes his terror rose tothe throat and his entreaties became shrieks. He died a dozen deathswhile his foe watched him with a chill stillness more menacing than anythreats. 

The first impulse of Clanton had been to stamp out the life of this manjust as he would that of a diamond-backed rattlesnake; but he meant totake his time about it and to see that the fellow suffered. Not until hewas halfway through the meal did the memory of his pledge to Pauline jumpto his mind. Quickly he pushed it from him. He had not meant to includeRoush in his promise. As soon as he had made an end of this ruffian hewould turn over a new leaf. But not yet. Roush was outside the pale. Hislife belonged to Jim. He would be a traitor to the memory of his sisterif he let the villain go. 

The lust for vengeance swelled in the young man's blood like a tide. Itwas his right to kill; more, it was his duty. So he tried to persuadehimself. But deep within him a voice was making itself heard. Itwhispered that if he killed Roush now, he could never look PaulineRoubideau in the face again. She had fought gallantly for his soul, andat last he had pledged his honor to a new course. Not twelve hours agoshe had risked her reputation to save his life. If he failed her now, itwould be a betrayal of all the desires and purposes that had of late beenstirring in him. 

Clammy beads of sweat stood on his forehead. He had been given a newchance, and it warred with every inherited instinct of his nature. Thefight within was cruel and bitter. But when he rose, his breakfastforgotten, it was won. He would let Roush go unhurt. He would do it forthe sake of Polly Roubideau, who had been such a good friend to him. 

Devil Dave, ghastly with fear, was still pleading for his life. Clanton, who had heard nothing of what the fellow had been saying in the past tenminutes, came to a sudden alert attention. 

"I'll go into court an' swear it if you'll let me be. I'll tell the jedgean' the jury that Joe Yankie told me an' Albeen an' Dumont that hebushwhacked Webb an' then cut his stick so that you-all got the blame. Honest to God, I will, Mr. Clanton. Jest you trust me an' see. "

"When did Yankie tell you that?"

"He done told us at the camp-fire one night. He made his brags how yougot the blame for it an' would have to hang. "

"Albeen heard him say it--an' Dumont too?"

"Tha's right, Mr. Clanton. An' I'll sure take my Bible oath on it. "

Go-Get-'Em Jim whipped out the forty-five from its holster and fired. Roush dropped screaming to the ground. He thought he had been shot. Thebullet had cut the rope above his head. 

"Get up, " ordered Clanton in disgust. 

Roush rose stiffly. 

Jim swung to the saddle of the horse beside him. "Hit the dust, " he toldhis captive. 

The rider followed the footman to the top of the bluff. Here Roush wasinstructed to mount the horse Clanton had been astride all night. Ridingbehind the tame bad man, Jim cut across the hills to a gulch and followedit till the ravine ran out in a little valley. He crossed this andclimbed a stiff pass from the other side of which he looked down onLive-Oaks a thousand feet below. 

The young man tied the hands of his prisoner behind him. From a coatpocket he drew a looking-glass, caught the sun's rays, and flung themupon a house in the suburbs of the town. 

Out of the house there presently came a man. He stood in the doorway amoment before going down the street. A flash of hot sunlight caught himfull in the face. He moved. The light danced after him. Then be woke up. From the cliff far above friends of his had been wont to heliographsignals during the late Washington County War. 

He read the light flashes and at once saddled a horse. A few minuteslater he might have been seen on the breakneck trail that leads acrossthe mountains to the Ruidosa. After a stiff climb he reached the summitand swung sharply along the ridge to the right. A voice hailed him. 

"Hello, Reb!"

"Hello, Go-Get-'Em! Thought Goodheart was bringin' you back a prisoner. "Quantrell's old guerrilla looked with unconcealed surprise at the boundman. He knew the story of Clanton's deep-rooted hatred of the Roush clan. 

"I didn't sign any bond to stay his prisoner, " Jim answered dryly. Then, sharply, he turned upon Roush. "Spill out yore story about Yankie. "

Reluctantly Roush told once more his tale. He spoke only under thepressure of imminent peril, for he knew that if this ever got back to themen in the chaparral they would kill him with no more compunction thanthey would a coyote. 

"Take this bird down to Billie Prince, Reb. Tell him I jumped Roush onthe Ruidosa, an' he peached to save his hide. This fellow is a born liar, but I reckon he's tellin' the truth this time. If he rues back on hisstory, tell Billie to put an advertisement in the Live-Oaks 'Round-Up'and I'll drop in to town an' have a stance with Mr. Roush. "

Reb scratched his sunburnt head. "I don't aim to be noways inquisitive, Go-Get-'Em, but how come you to wait long enough to take this hawss-thiefcaptive? I'd 'a' bet my best mule team against a dollar Mex that you'dhave gunned him on sight. "

"I'll tell you why, Reb. He had one rifle an' one six-gun. I didn't haveeither the one or the other, so I had to borrow his guns before I talkedturkey. By that time I'd changed my mind about bumpin' him off right now. When Yankie finds out what he's been sayin' he'll do the trick for me. "

"You're right he will. Good job, too. I hate a sneak like I do aside-winder. " Reb turned to his prisoner. "Git a move on you, Roush. I want this job over with. I'm no coyote herder. "

Chapter XXXIII

The Round-Up

Dumont had been on the grill for three hours. He had taken refuge indogged silence. He had been badgered into lies. He had broken down atlast and told the truth. Sheriff Billie Prince, keen as a hound on thescent, persistent as a bulldog, peppered the man's defense with amachine-gun fire of questions. Back of these loomed the shadow of along term in the penitentiary. 

For Dumont had been caught with his iron hot. The acrid smell of burntflesh was still in the air when an angry cattleman and two of his riderscame on the man and the rustled calf. Fortunately for the thief thesheriff happened to be in the neighborhood. He had rescued the capturedwaddy from the hands of the incensed ranchers and brought him straight toLive-Oaks. 

The rustler was frightened. There had been a bad quarter of an hour whenit looked as though he might be the central figure in a lynching. Evenafter this danger had been weathered, the outlook was full of gloom. Hehad to choose between a long prison sentence and the betrayal of hiscomrades. Dumont had no iron in his blood. He dodged and evaded andbluffed--and at last threw up his hands. If the sheriff would protect himfrom the vengeance of the gang, he would give any information wantedor do anything he was told to do. 

The arrival of Reb and his prisoner interrupted the quiz. Prince hadDumont returned to his cell and took up the new business of Roush and hisstory. The sheriff knew he would be blamed for the escape of Clanton andhe thought it wise to have the whole matter opened up before witnesses. Wallace Snaith and Dad Wrayburn both happened to be in town and Billiesent the boss mule-skinner to bring them. To these men he turned over theexamination of Roush. 

They wrung from him, a scrap at a time, the story Yankie had told hisconfederates at the camp-fire. A statement of the facts was drawn upand signed by Roush under protest. It was witnessed by the four menpresent. 

Devil Dave was locked up and Dumont brought back to the office of thesheriff. Taken by surprise at the new form of the questionnaire, alreadybroken in spirit and therefore eager to conciliate these powerfulcitizens, the rustler at once corroborated the story of Roush. He, too, signed a statement drawn up by Prince. 

"Just shows, doggone it, how a man can be too blamed sure, " commentedWrayburn. "I'd 'a' bet my life Go-Get-'Em Jim killed Webb. But hedidn't. It's plain enough now. After his rookus with the old man, Yankiemust have got a seventy-three an' waited in the chaparral. It justhappened he was lyin' hid close to where we met Clanton. It beats theDutch. "

"An' if Jim hadn't escaped he'd have been hanged for killin' Webb. "

"That's right, sheriff. On my testimony, too. Say, let me go to theGovernor with these papers an' git the pardon. I'd like to give it to theboy myself, jest to show him there's no hard feelin's, " urged Wrayburn. 

"That's all right, Dad. I'm goin' to be right busy this next week, Ishouldn't wonder. I've got business up in the hills. "

"If you're goin' on a round-up, I hope you make a good gather, Prince, "said Snaith, smiling. 

Not in the history of Washington County had there been another such around-up as this one of which Sheriff Prince was the boss. He made hisplans swiftly and thoroughly. His posses were to sweep the countrybetween Saco de Oro Creek and Caballero Cañon. Every gap was to bestopped, every exit guarded. Dumont, much against his will, rode besidethe sheriff as guide. Goodheart had charge of the first party that wentout. His duty was to swing round and close the gulches to the north. Herehe would wait until the hunted men were driven into the trap he had set. Old Reb, with a second posse, started next morning for the head-watersof Seven-Mile Creek. An hour later the sheriff himself took the road. Heleft town sooner than he had intended because Roush had escaped duringthe night and was probably on his way into the hills to warn therustlers. 

Get them in a talkative mood and old-timers who took part in it willstill tell the story of that man-drive in the mountains. Riders combedthe draws and the buttes, eyes and ears alert for those who might liehidden on the rim rocks or in the cactus. It was grim business. Drivenout of their holes, the rustlers fought savagely. One, trapped in a hillpocket, stood off a posse till he was shot to death. A second waswounded, captured, and sent back with two other suspects to Live-Oaks. At the end of a week Prince had the remnant of the band surrounded in amountain park close to Caballero Cañon. 

The country into which the outlaws had been driven was an ideal terrainfor defense. The brush was thick and tall. Two wooded arroyos gashed therim of the valley and ran down into the basin. An attack againstdetermined men here was bound to prove costly. 

Billie knew that three men lay in the chaparral and he believed that oneof them at least was wounded. Old Reb had jumped them up from a firelesscamp, and in their hurry to escape the outlaws had left all theirprovisions and two of their horses. They left, too, one of the posse witha bullet hole in his forehead. The sheriff's plan was to tighten thelines gradually and starve out the rustlers. 

But though Prince would not let his men advance to a general assault, hemade up his mind to find out more as to the condition of the men he hadsurrounded. He wanted to make sure they had not slipped past his guardsinto Caballero Cañon. In the back of his head, too, was the feeling thatif he could get into touch with them, perhaps he might arrange for asurrender. 

He called Goodheart to one side. "As soon as it's dark I'm goin' in tofind out what's doin'. We haven't heard a murmur from these birds forhours. Perhaps they've flown. Anyhow, I'm goin' to find out. "

"How many of us are goin'?"

"Just one of us--Billie Prince. "

"If two of us went--"

"It would double the chances of discovery. No, I'm goin' alone. Maybe Ican have a talk with Albeen or Yankie. I don't want to take 'em dead, butalive. "

"They'll probably get you while you're in there, Prince. "

"I don't think it. But if I'm not back by mornin' you are in charge ofthis hunt. Use yore judgment. "

The deputy ventured one more protest, but his chief vetoed it. Billie haddecided what to do and argument did not touch him. 

He did not take a rifle. In the thick brush it would be hard to handlenoiselessly and the snapping of a twig might mean the difference betweenlife and death. The sheriff slipped into the tangle of cat-claw, pricklypear, and mesquite, vanishing into the gloom from the sight of Goodheart. 

On the back of an envelope Dumont had drawn for him a rough map of thevalley. It showed that the wooded arroyos ran together like the spokes ofa wheel. The judgment of Prince was that he must look for the men hewanted close to the angle of intersection. Up one or the other of thesedraws it was likely they would make their dash for freedom, sinceotherwise they would have to emerge into the open. Therefore, they wouldhold the base of the V in order not to be cut off from the chance ofgetting out of the trap. 

The sheriff snaked forward, most of the time on his stomach or on handsand knees, for what seemed an interminable period. Each least movementhad to be planned and executed with precision. He dared not risk thecracking of a dead branch or the rustle of dry foliage. As silently asan Apache he wriggled through the grass. 

Billie became aware of a sound to the left. He listened. It presentlydefined itself as a wheezing rattle halfway between a cough and a groan. 

Toward it Prince deflected. He knew himself to be now in the acute dangerzone, and he increased if possible his precautions. The moaning continuedintermittently. Billie wondered why, if this were the camp of theoutlaws, no other sound broke the stillness. Closer, inch by inch, makingthe most of every bunch of yucca and cholla, the officer slowly crept. 

The figure of a man lay in the sand, the head resting on a foldedslicker. From time to time it moved slightly, and always the restlessnesswas accompanied by the little throat rattle that had first attracted theattention of the sheriff. The face, lying full in the moonlight, was of aghastly pallor. 

Prince lay crouched behind a piñon till he was sure the man was alone. Itwas possible that his confederates might return at any moment, but Billiecould not let him suffer without aid. He stepped forward, revolver inhand, every sense ready for instant response. 

The wounded man was Joe Yankie. The experienced eyes of Prince told himthat the rustler had not long to live. He was already in that twilightregion which is the border land between the known and the unknown. Billiespoke his name, and for a moment the eyes of the man cleared. 

"Yore boys got me when they jumped our camp, " he explained feebly. 

"Sorry, Joe. You were firin' when they hit you. "

The wounded man nodded. "'S all right. Streak o' bad luck. Gimme water. I'm on fire, " The officer unbuckled his canteen, lifted the head of thedying man, and let the water trickle down his throat. Gently he loweredthe head again to the pillow. 

Then he asked a question. "Where are Albeen and--Roush?"

The last name was a shot in the dark, but it hit the bull's eye. 

"Left--hours ago, "

Yankie closed his eyes wearily, but by sheer strength of will Princerecalled him from the doze into which he was slipping. 

"Did you kill Homer Webb?"

"Yes. "

"Had Clanton anything to do with it?"

"No. "

A film gathered over the eyes of the dying man. The lids closed. Billieadjusted the pillow a little more comfortably and rose. He could do nomore for him at present and he must set about his work. For though thenet of the round-up had gathered hundreds of stolen cattle and most ofthose engaged in the business of brand-blotting, Prince knew his jobwould not be finished if Roush and Albeen escaped. 

He quartered over the ground foot by foot. The camp of the rustlers hadbeen here and the footsteps showed there had been three. Yankie wasaccounted for. That left Roush and Albeen. The sheriff discovered theplace where they had been sleeping. 

His eyes lit with the eagerness of the hunter who has come on the spoor. He had found two sets of tracks leading from the bed-ground. One of theseshowed no heel marks and the deep impress of toes in the soft sand. Theother presented a more sharply defined print with a greater distancebetween the steps. They told Billie a story of a man tiptoeing away inbreathless silence, and of another man, wakened by some sound or by somepremonition, pursuing him in reckless haste. 

The imagination of the trailer built up a web of cause and effect. Twomen, with only one horse, were caught in a trap from which both were in adesperate hurry to escape. Each, no doubt, was filled with suspicion ofthe other while they waited for darkness to fall that they might try toslip through the cordon of watchers. One of the at least, was unknown. Ifhe could make a get-away, _and leave no witness behind_, there would beno proof positive that he was one of the rustlers. The situation was ripefor tragedy. 

In the back of the sheriff's mind rose thoughts of something sinisterthat had happened in the early hours of darkness. A chill ran down hisspine. He expected presently to stumble across something cold and chillthat only a little while ago had been warm with life. 

Prince recognized a weakness in his theory. If Roush was the man who hadtiptoed toward the horse in the pines, why had he not made sure firstby shooting Albeen while he slept? There was no absolute answer to that. But it might be that the one-armed man had been dozing lightly and thatRoush had not the nerve to take a chance. For if his first shot failed tokill, the betrayed man could still drop him. 

The trailer had no doubt in his mind that Roush was the man who had triedto slip away to the horse. Albeen was a gun-fighter, quick on the shoot, hasty of temper, but with the reputation of being both game and stanch. It would not be in character for him to leave a companion in the lurch. 

In the scrub pines at the foot of the arroyo Prince found the place wherea horse had been tied. The footprints had diverged sharply toward aduster of big boulders that rose in the grove. Billie did not at oncefollow them. He wanted to make sure of another point first. 

Every sense alert against a possible surprise, he studied the groundaround the spot where the bronco had been fastened. One set of trackscame straight from the big rocks to the hitching tree. Here all tracksended, except those of a galloping horse and the ones made by the man whohad originally left the animal here. 

One man had gone up the arroyo to slip through or to fight his way out ofthe trap. The other man had stayed here. The officer knew what he wouldfind lying among the big rocks. 

The body lay face down, a revolver close to the still hand. Threechambers of it had been fired. Prince turned over the heavy torso andlooked into the contorted face of Dave Roush. 

The man had fallen a victim to his own treachery. 

Chapter XXXIV

Primrose Paths

When Billie Prince had finished the job that had been given him to do, hewent back quietly to Live-Oaks without knowing that he had led the lastcampaign of a revolution in the social life of Washington County. Becausea strong, determined man had carried law into the mesquite, citizenscould henceforth go about their business without fear or dread. 

The rule of the "bad man" was over. Revolvers were no longer a part ofthe necessary wearing apparel of gentlemen of spirit. Life became safeand humdrum. The frontier world gave itself to ploughing fields andbuilding fences and digging irrigation ditches and planting orchards. Asa corollary it married and reared children and built little redschoolhouses. 

But before all this came to pass some details had to be arranged in thelives of certain young people of the country. In one instance, at least, Lee Snaith appointed herself adjuster in behalf of Cupid. 

Goodheart reached town a few hours earlier than his chief. Lee met himjust before supper in front of the court-house. 

"Where's Billie?" she asked with characteristic directness. 

"He's on his way back. A wounded man couldn't be moved an' he had to staywith him a while. The man was Joe Yankie. A messenger just got in to sayhe died. "

"Billie isn't wounded?"

"No. Not his fault, though. When we had the rustlers cornered, he crawledin through the brush to their camp. Fool business, I told him. Never sawanything gamer. Lucky for him Albeen had made his get-away. "

The eyes of the girl thanked the deputy for this indirect praise. Littlepatches of red burned in her dusky cheeks. The way to make a life friendof her was to be fond of Billie. 

Lee changed the subject abruptly. "Jack, you haven't half the sense Ithought you had. "

"Much obliged, " he answered sardonically. She was looking straight at himand he knew what was in her mind. 

"If I was a man--and if the nicest girl in the world was in love withme--I'd try not to be as stiff as a poker. "

"I'm as stiff as a poker, am I?"

"Yes. " The dark eyes of the young woman were eager pools of light. "She'sthe truest-hearted girl I ever saw--the best friend, the loyalestcomrade. I should think you'd be ashamed to set yourself up to judgeher. "

"Of course, you're not settin' yourself up to judge _me_, Lee?"

"I'm going to tell you what I think. The others are afraid of you becauseyou can put on that high-and-mighty, stand-offish air. Well, I'm not. "

"I see you're not. "

"She told me all about it. Since she was Polly Roubideau she had to helpJim escape. Can't you see that? She knew he was innocent, and it turnedout she was right. Suppose she made a mistake--and I don't admit it for aminute. Can't you make allowance for other folks' judgment beingdifferent from yours? Are you never wrong yourself?"

"It isn't a question of judgment. "

He hesitated and decided to say no more. How could he tell Lee thatPauline had deliberately misled him to give Clanton a better chance ofescape? He had fought it out a hundred times in his mind, but he couldnot escape the conviction that she had made a tool of his love. 

The girl went to the heart of the matter. "Polly loves you, and she isbreaking her heart because of your wretched pride. If you don't gostraight to her and beg her pardon for your want of faith in her, you'renot half the man I think you are, Jack Goodheart. "

A warm glow of hope flushed through his blood. 

"How do you know she loves me?"

"Because--because--" Lee stopped. She did not intend to betray anyconfidences. "I know it. That's enough. "

He threw away impulsively the prudent pride that he had been nourishing. "Where can I find Polly?"

"You're being invited to supper at my aunt's this evening. I'll not behome for half an hour, but if you go right up, maybe you can find someone to entertain you. "

He buried her little hand in his big paw and strode away. She watchedhim, a soft tenderness shining in her eyes. Lee was a lover herself, andshe wanted everybody in the world to be as happy as she was. 

Two horsemen rode down the street toward her. She looked up. One of themwas Billie Prince, the other Jim Clanton. 

The younger man gave a shout of gay greeting. "Yip-ee yippy yip. " Heleaned from the cowpony and gave her his gloved hand. "I've brought himback to you. He sure did make a good clean-up. I'm the only bad man leftin Washington County. "

She met his impudent little smile with friendly eyes. "Dad Wrayburn'sback from Santa Fe with the pardon, Jim. I'm so glad. "

"I'm some glad myself. Do you want me to shut my eyes whilst you an'Billie--"

The sheriff knocked the rest of the sentence out of him with a vigorousthump on the back. 

While Lee and her lover shook hands their eyes held fast to each other. 

"Good to see you, Billie, " she said. 

"Same here, Lee. "

"When you and Jim have put up your horses I want you to come up to aunt'sfor supper. "

"We'll be there. "

It was not a very gay little supper. Pauline and Jack Goodheart had verylittle to say for themselves, but in their eyes were bright pools ofhappiness. Clanton sustained the burden of the talk, assisted in adesultory fashion by Lee and Billie. But there was so much quiet joy atthe table that for years the hour was one fenced off from all the othersof their lives. Even Jim, who for the first time felt himself almost anoutsider, since he did not belong to the close communion of lovers, couldfind plenty for which to be thankful. 

He made an announcement before he left. "There's no room here for me nowthat you lads are marryin' all my girls. I'm goin' to hit the trail. It'sTexas for me. I've got a letter in my pocket offerin' me a job as aRanger an' I'm goin' to take it. "

They shook hands with him in warm congratulation. Their friend was nolonger a killer. He had definitely turned his back on lawlessness andwould henceforth walk with the law. The problem of what was to become ofGo-Get-'Em Jim was solved. 

As to the problem of their own futures, that did not disturb these happyegoists in the least. Life beckoned them to primrose paths. It is thegood fortune of lovers that their vision never pierces the shadows inwhich lie the sorrows of the years and the griefs that wear them gray. 

THE END