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Title: The CoyoteA Western Story

Author: James Roberts

Release Date: August 3, 2009 [EBook#29602]

Language: English

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THE COYOTE ***

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THE COYOTE

THE COYOTEA Western Story

By JAMES ROBERTS

CHELSEA HOUSE79 SEVENTH AVENUE NEW YORK CITY

The Coyote

Copyright, 1925, by CHELSEA HOUSE

(Printed in the United States of America)

All rights reserved, including that oftranslation into foreign

languages, including the Scandinavian.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. RewardsOffered 11

II. A Boy and aGirl 17

III. The Law 24

IV. “I Knew HeLied!” 32

V. A Capture 38The Real

VI. Low-Down 45

VII. Where toHide 52

VIII. Two QueerMoves 57

IX. Leave It toMe 65

X. Caught in theCellar 71

XI. FreedomBehind Bars 77

XII. Against HisEthics 87

XIII. A Man andHis Horse 93

XIV. The Witness 98

XV. The 106

WelcomeXVI. The Dixie’s

Boss 114

XVII. ACommission 121

XVIII. In the Night 129XIX. Quick Turns 136

XX. Appeal tothe Law 145

XXI. A Capture 151

XXII. A SecondCapture 160

XXIII. Quick Facts 165

XXIV. The Show-down 170

XXV. Filed! 175XXVI. The Prodigal 179

XXVII. The DesertCode

185

XXVIII. A NightSummons 194

XXIX. Gunmen 201

XXX.TheSheriff’sPlight

207

XXXI. A NewCount 215

XXXII.TheCompassFails

220

XXXIII. Fast Work 224

XXXIV.TheCompassWavers

230

Guns in the

XXXV. Night 235XXXVI. The Loot 242

XXXVII. The Test of aMan 245

XXXVIII. Ten Miles’Start 250

THE COYOTE

CHAPTER I

REWARDS OFFERED

The sign on the tree attracted the man’sattention while he was still far down theslope. He could see the tall pine on thecrest of the ridge above a veritablelandmark in that country of stunted timber,and the square of paper, tacked to its trunkunder the lowest branches, gleamed whiteagainst the background of vivid green.

The air was clear, and every detail of thelandscape––the red rocks, the saffron-colored slopes, the green pines and firsand buck brush, the white cliffs––

everything within sight for miles stoodout, clean-cut in the brilliant sunshinewhich flooded the empty land under acloudless sky.

When the man, mounted on a lean, dun-colored horse, first looked up at a turn ofthe narrow trail and saw the sign, hegrunted. Then he frowned and looked backalong the way he had come with a glowinglight of reflection in his gray eyes. He wasa tall man, slim and muscular, clean-shaven, his face and hands bronzed by sunand wind, and his face open and good-natured. A shock of blond hair showedwhere his gray, wide-brimmed, high-crowned hat was pushed back from hishigh forehead.

His dress, though typical of the country

which he traversed, was distinctive, or itmight have been a certain natural gracethat made it seem so. He wore a light-gray, soft shirt made of French flannel, adark-blue silk scarf, leather chaps overolive-drab khaki trousers, black, hand-sewed riding boots which displayed theirpolish despite a coating of fine dust, silverspurs, and, strapped to his right thigh, wasa worn leather holster, natural color, fromwhich protruded the black butt of a six-gun.

On the back of his saddle was tied a blackslicker, the raincoat of the open country,which bulged with a medium-sized packdone up within it.

One would have taken him to be thirty,perhaps a year or two more when his face

was serious; but when he smiled, that is,when he smiled naturally, he looked littlemore in years than a youth who has justattained his majority.

When he smiled the other smile––thesmile he now expressed as he looked upthe slope toward the tall pine with thewhite square of paper on its trunk––onewould have forgotten the smile because ofthe sinister, steel-blue look in his eyes,and the direct, piercing quality of his gaze.

He walked his horse up the winding trail.His right foot was clear of the stirrup, andhe swung it idly. His left hand, in whichhe held the reins, rested lightly on the hornof his saddle, and his right gripped thecantle at his back. He hummed a ditty ofthe desert, but his gaze, keen and alert,

continually sought the open stretches oftrail above him, and at regular intervalsflashed back along the way he had come.

In time he reached the top of the ridge andpulled up his horse near the tree bearingthe poster. He dismounted and walkedslowly up a little grade to where he couldthe better read the legend on the paper.

It was printed in large letters, but recentrain had somewhat faded it.

FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARDThis will be paid for

THE COYOTEdead or alive, by San Jacinto County.

JUDSON BROWN, J. P.,Dry Lake.

This man is tall and light in complexion,

gray or blue eyes, good teeth, his horsesaid branded CC2 keeps himself neat,dangerous with gun, squints when mad.Bring him in and get the money.

The man swore softly as he read the lastsentence. “Bring him in an’ get themoney,” he said snortingly. “You’d thinkthey was talkin’ about a locoed steer thatjust had to be roped an’ drug, or shot an’hauled. Bring him in an’ get the money!”

There was genuine indignation in his toneas he repeated the offensive sentence.

“Well, it can’t be me,” he said facetiously,aloud. “My name’s Rathburn––a rightgood name.” His eyes clouded. “A rightgood name till they began to tamper withit,” he muttered with a frown as he lit acigarette he had built while perusing the

placard.

He took the stub of a lead pencil from thepocket of his shirt. For some moments hereflected, staring at the sign on the treetrunk. Then he laboriously printed on itslower edge:

Five thousand dollars more from the Stateof Arizona if you can get it.

Rathburn surveyed his work with a grin,replacing the pencil in his shirt pocket.Then he stepped back and drew his gun.He seemed on the point of sending a halfdozen bullets through the paper when hesuddenly shook his head, glancedhurriedly about him, and shoved theweapon back into its sheath.

He walked quickly to his horse, swung

into the saddle, and started down the trailon the western side of the ridge.

Below him he saw a far-flung vista ofrounded, yellow hills, spotted with thegreen of small pines and firs. The groundwas hard, dry, and gravelly. There wereboulders a-plenty, and long, sharp-edgedoutcroppings of hard rock of a reddishhue. There was no sign of habitation to beglimpsed from the trail leading down fromthe high ridge which he had crossed. Hecontinually looked about him with theinterested air of a man who is venturinginto a new locality with which he is notfamiliar.

“Dry Lake!” he exclaimed, while hishorse pricked up its ears at the familiarvoice. “Good name for it, if it’s anywhere

i n this country. Hoss, I don’t know whenwe’re goin’ to drink again. I didn’t figureon hittin’ a desert up here.”

He rode on at a brisk jog, down and downthe winding trail. Then it led across anumber of the round, low hills, everwestward.

As the afternoon wore on, more greenbrightened the landscape and patches ofgrass appeared. Then they came upon asmall stream trickling down from thehigher slopes to northward where horseand rider drank their fill and rested in aquiet, secluded meadow off the trail.

The man’s face was a study as he lay backupon the grass in the cool shade of aclump of pines. Whimsical and wistful, itwas occasionally lit by a peculiar smile

which carried a hint of sadness. His eyeshalf closed, dreamily. The smoke from hiscigarette curled upward in a thin spiral inthe still air of the altitudes. His horse,with reins dangling and saddle cinchloosened, cropped the grass whichcarpeted the meadow.

Finally the man arose, tightened the cinchin an absent manner, mounted, and rodeback to the trail to continue on his way. Atthe top of the next ridge he halted, lookingat a little ranch which lay in a wide valleya mile or two north of the thread of trailwhich he could see winding westward.The place looked poor, poverty-stricken,despite the small field of living greensouth of the house and the few head ofcattle grazing along the banks of a little

stream which wound through the valley.

For some time the rider sat his horsemotionless, frowning in indecision. Thenhe touched the dun lightly with his spurs,left the trail, and struck off to the north,following the ridge. He kept his gazefocused on the little ranch. The only signof life which he saw was a heavily-burdened clothesline flapping in the idlebreeze which at this point was wafteddown from the mountains.

When he was almost directly above thesmall house he turned his mount down theslope and gaining the floor of the valley,rode at a gallop for the house. His righthand now rested on his thigh near theholstered gun.

As he brought his horse to a stop near the

front of the house a girl appeared in thedoorway. He looked at her in pleasedsurprise. Then his hat swept low in agesture of courtesy.

“Ma’am, I’ve found this to be a country ofscattered habitations,” he said in amusical bass. “So when I glimpsed yourabode from yonder hills I said to myself,‘Rathburn, you’re most powerful hungry;maybe you better pay a call.’”

His eyes were glowing with an amusedlight, and a pleasant smile played upon hislips.

The girl, who had listened curiously, nowlaughed in welcome. “There aren’t manyplaces between here and Dry Lake,” shesaid; “and I guess it would be a pretty hotride to-day. You can water your horse––

and feed him at the barn, if you wish––andI’ll get you something to eat, if you’re notparticular.” Her eyes danced merrily.

“Ma’am!” he exclaimed, with mockseverity, “I quit bein’ particular when Iwas––when I was as young as thatyoungster.”

A boy of ten or twelve had appearedbeside the girl.

“Young man, what’re those dirt-lookingspots on your face?” asked the stranger,frowning with his eyes but smiling withhis lips.

“They ain’t dirt spots!” returned the boywith spirit, advancing a step.

“No?” said the man, feigning intenseastonishment. “What are they?”

“They’re freckles,” answered the boystoutly.

“Oh––oh, that’s what they are,” said thestranger with a delighted laugh. “Won’tthey wash off?”

“Naw. You can’t fool me. You knew whatthey were!”

“Well, now, maybe so,” observed the manas the girl laughingly turned inside.

“Grub’ll be ready by time you are,” shecalled back to him.

“I’ll show you where to put your horse,”said the boy as the man looked searchinglyup and down the valley.

CHAPTER II

A BOY AND A GIRL

When Rathburn had put up his horse, aftergiving him a light feed of grain in the barn,he followed the boy to the rear of thehouse where he found water, soap, and atowel on a bench, above which hung asmall mirror.

The boy left him there, and he soonwashed and combed his hair. The girlopened the rear door for him and hewalked through the little kitchen into asmall front room where a table was set forhim.

“Sure, ma’am, I didn’t figure on causingyou so much trouble,” he said with asmile. “I didn’t expect anything but asnack, an’ here you’ve gone an’ fixed aregular dinner––this time of day, too.”

“My experience with men in this countryhas taught me that when they’re hungry,they’re hungry,” replied the girl. “And itwasn’t much trouble. Those beans were inthe oven and already warm. I just had tomake the coffee. I was expecting mybrother.”

“I didn’t see any men around the place,”he said, beginning to eat. “If I had I’d havemade myself known to them before comingto the house. Where is he––out with thecattle?”

He saw her gaze was troubled. “I don’t

know just where he is––to-day,” sheconfessed. “He goes away and sometimesdoesn’t come back for a day or two.” Shestood in the doorway.

Rathburn noted her trim, slim figure andher wealth of chestnut hair. She was prettyand capable. He surmised that her parentswere dead, although he could not ascribethe reason for this deduction. Evidentlythe boy was a younger brother. Hewondered if the older brother wouldreturn before he finished eating.

“How far is it to Dry Lake?” he askedcasually.

“Oh––why, didn’t you come from there?”She seemed surprised.

“No. I came from over to eastward.”

“But it’s miles and miles to any place eastof here, isn’t it?” she asked, puzzled.“You must have had a long ride.”

A ghost of a frown played on his brows.Then he laughed. “Yes, miss, I’ve beenridin’ some,” he confessed. “I didn’t knowhow far it was to anywhere or I mightn’thave come in this direction.”

She looked at him wonderingly, and againhe thought he saw a troubled look in hereyes.

“You’re going to Dry Lake?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said shortly, and a grim notecrept into his voice. “It’s west of here,ain’t it?”

“About fifteen or eighteen miles,” sheanswered. “The trail leads there from the

lower end of this valley––the same trailyou came on, I guess. Are you a cow-puncher?”

“Don’t I look like one, miss?”

“Yes, you do and––you don’t.” She wasconfused by the quality of his smile. Buthis eyes seemed to glow at her kindly,with a cheerful, amused light––altogetherhonest and friendly. She lowered her gazeand flushed despite herself.

“My vocation, miss––you’re too young an’pretty to be called ma’am, if you’ll excuseme for saying so––is a peculiar one. I’vepunched cows, yes; I’ve prospected an’worked a bit in the mines. I’ve scared thewolf from the ‘Welcome’ mat by standingoff the boys at green-topped tables, an’once I––I––worked on a sort of farm.” He

appeared apologetic as he confessed thislast. “I guess I wasn’t cut out for a farmhand, miss.”

She laughed at this. “Are you going towork in Dry Lake?” she asked, sobering.

“Well, now, that is a question,” hereturned, draining his cup of the last of thecoffee.

“I’ll get you some more,” she saidquickly, taking his cup. “Dry Lake isn’t avery big place, you know.”

“Just how big is Dry Lake?” he askedwhen she returned from the kitchen withmore coffee for him.

“Only a hundred or two. But the men frommiles and miles go there because––because there are places there where they

can stand the wolf off at the green-toppedtables and––drink.” The troubled lookwas in her eyes again. “Sometimes thewolf catches up with them before they gethome,” she added, smiling faintly.

“It’s not a safe system,” he saidthoughtfully.

“But you might get work in Dry Lake,” shesaid hopefully. “You––you look capable.The cattlemen from back in the hills gothere and they’re nearly always lookingfor men, I’ve heard. You might meet someof them and get a job.”

He beamed upon her. “I’ve always heardthat a woman gave a man encouragementan’ ambition, if she was a good one,” hemused. “You’ve almost got me thinkingI’d better go straight to work.”

“Why––didn’t––wasn’t that yourintention?” she asked wonderingly.

His face clouded. “It ain’t always so easyfor me to do what I want to do, miss,” hesaid. “I––you see–––” He broke off hisspeech with a frown. “This is a queercountry, miss,” he said earnestly.

“Oh, I know,” she said eagerly. “I’ll betyou’re an––an officer!”

Then he laughed. It was the spontaneouslaugh of youth, vibrant, compelling, mirth-inspiring.

“Say, miss, if there’s one thing I ain’ttackled yet, it’s being an officer,” hechuckled as he finished his repast.

She smiled vaguely, studying him underher long, dark lashes. The boy came into

the room, holding his hands behind him,and stood with his sturdy legs bracedapart, staring at Rathburn.

“There he is now!” Rathburn exclaimed.“Did you try to wash the freckles off?” hequeried with a wink.

“I know who you are!” said the boy.There was admiration and awe in hiswide eyes.

Rathburn looked at him closely, his browswrinkling.

“Yes, I do,” said the boy, nodding. “Didhe tell you who he is, sis?” he asked,looking at the girl.

“Now, Frankie, we don’t care who theman is,” she reproved. “He was hungryand he’s welcome. What’s the matter with

you?”

“I guess you’d be surprised if you knew asmuch as I do,” the boy boasted. “I guessyou’d be surprised all right. I do.”

“I’ve been surprised more than once atthings you knew,” the girl said with alaugh.

“Yes, but I guess you’d be surprised allright if you knew who he is,” cried theboy, pointing at Rathburn.

“Come, now, young fellow, don’t begetting all het up here,” said Rathburnslowly, drawing tobacco and papers fromhis shirt pocket. “What do you find to dowith yourself around here?”

But the youngster was not to be divertedfrom his topic. “I was lookin’ at your

horse,” he said, his eyes shining. “That’show I know for sure an’ certain who youare.”

Rathburn gazed at the boy sternly as hetouched a match to his brown-papercigarette. “My horse is all right, ain’t he?”

“Sure he is,” said the boy eagerly. “I bethe can go some, too. He’d have to go foryou to have him, wouldn’t he? You’re TheCoyote!”

Rathburn continued to smile with anamused tolerance. But the girl gave a start;her hands flew to her breast, and shestared at the man with wide-open eyes.

“Frankie! What are you saying?” sheexclaimed.

The boy triumphantly brought his hands

from behind his back. He held out aposter.

“His horse has got CC2 for a brand, justlike it says in this bill Ed brought fromtown!” he cried. “He’s The Coyote, allright. But I won’t tell,” he added quickly,looking at Rathburn.

The man avoided the girl’s eyes. The boylaid the poster on the table where shecould read it again, word for word.

“Tall––light in complexion––gray or blueeyes––good teeth––horse branded CC2––dangerous–––”

And this man was tall and blond, withgray eyes. Five hundred dollars reward!

“I won’t tell anybody you’ve been here,”the boy continued. “We won’t tell, will

we, sis?” He looked at the girlimploringly.

“My brother Ed says what you want youtake,” said the boy, gazing at the man inadmiration. “An’ he says you don’t robanybody that can’t afford it! He says thebanks are insured an’ you’ve been a friendto more’n one that’s just gettin’ a start inthe cattle. I won’t tell anybody you’vebeen here, an’ I won’t let sis tell anybody,either!”

Rathburn was smiling wistfully. “Alwaystel l the truth, sonny,” he said in a lowvoice. “Don’t forget that. I wouldn’t wantyou to lie for me. Any man that wouldwant you to lie for him wouldn’t be a mana-tall, son. See?”

“But old Brown, the judge, or the sheriff

might come along an’ want to know ifyou’d been here!” said the boy inbreathless excitement.

“Then tell ’em the truth,” said Rathburnsmilingly. “Tell ’em a man with a horsebranded CC2 was here an’ kidded youabout your freckles, had something to eat,an’ rode away. Don’t lie, sonny, no matterwhat happens.”

The girl took a step toward the table.“You––are––The Coyote?” she asked in awhisper.

“My name is Rathburn, miss,” he repliedcheerfully. “In some ways I’m a lot likethe man described in that reward notice.An’ I’m riding a dun-colored horsebranded CC2. I don’t like that monicker,Coyote, or I might ’fess up to it.”

“Then––if you’re him––you’re anoutlaw!” she stammered.

Rathburn’s dreamy look shifted to the boywho was staring at him.

“You’ll grow up to be quite a man, son,”he said in a fatherly tone. “Those frecklesmean a tough skin. A weak sort of skintans quick an’ the toughest just sunburns.You’re halfway between. That’s all rightfor freckles; but it don’t go in life. It’s bestto be on one side or the other, an’ the rightside’s the best for most folks.”

He rose and went for his hat. Then heextracted a roll of bills from a hip pocketand laid a five-dollar note on the table.

“That meal was worth it,” he said to thegirl with a smile.

She shook her head. “I––I couldn’t takeit,” she said.

“That’s clean money, miss. I earned itcircumventin’ three of the most ornerycard sharps in Arizona.”

She continued to shake her head. “You donot understand,” she murmured. “It––itwouldn’t make any difference. Wecouldn’t take money from a stranger whocame to us––hungry. It wouldn’t make anydifference who you were.”

“Aw, we need it, sis!” blurted out the boy.“The Coyote’s all right. He wouldn’t lieto us.”

Rathburn laughed and, stepping to the boy,ran his fingers in his hair. “I guess I’vemade a friend,” he said in a wistful voice.

Then he picked up the bill on the table andstuffed it into the boy’s pocket. His eyesencountered the poster again and theyclouded. He turned away from it.

“Miss, you’ll let me thank you––sure.”

She nodded, retreating a few paces.

“Then I’ll be going,” he said, stepping tothe door.

“To––to Dry Lake?” she found the voiceto ask.

“Yes. To Dry Lake.”

He left the house and in a few minutesreappeared from the direction of the barn,riding his dun-colored horse. He did notstop, but galloped down the valley,waving a hand in farewell which the boy

answered.

The day was nearly spent. The sun waslow in the west, sliding down like a ballof gold toward the rim of the bluemountains. A stiff breeze had sprung up,driving the heat before it. At the lower endof the valley Rathburn found the trail hehad left when he detoured to the ranch. Heturned westward upon it, put spurs to hishorse, and sped toward town.

It was just as well that the girl could notsee the look which came to his face as herode into the sunset.

CHAPTER III

THE LAW

Night had descended when Rathburn camein sight of the little town on the edge of thefoothills. He rode slowly toward it,staring moodily at the flickering lightsbetween interlaced branches which wavedand weaved in the wind blowing downfrom the mountains. In all the distance hehad traveled from the lonely ranch wherehe had met the girl and the boy he hadencountered no one. He surmised that thetrail to the desert hills to eastward wasnot a popular one.

As he neared the town he saw that itconsisted of one main street withbuildings clustered about it, and numerousshacks scattered in the lee of the hills.There were trees close to the eastern endof the street which he was approaching,and when he reached these trees hedismounted, led his horse into theshadows, and tied it.

He walked down the main street, whichwas illuminated only by the stars and theyellow gleams of light from windows oneither side.

There were several resorts, and one inparticular seemed the most popular.Rathburn glanced in through the door ofthis place as he passed and saw that itconsisted of a bar and numerous tables,

where games were in progress. He did notstop but continued on his way.

Few people were on the street; none ofthem took any especial notice of him.Several doors below the largest resortwhich he had so casually investigated, hecame to a small, one-story, white-paintedbuilding, which, save for the door andwindow in its front, looked like a hugebox.

Across the glass in the door was letteredin gold:

JUDSON BROWNJustice of the PeaceNotary Public

A dim light shone within, and, peeringthrough the window, Rathburn saw that

this light came from a lamp in a secondroom behind the little front office.

He looked up and down the street and sawbut two pedestrians, both walking up theother side of the thoroughfare with theirback to him. He tried the door stealthily,found it unlocked, and stepped quicklyinside. Three strides took him to the doorof the inside room.

A man looked up from a small table wherehe was engaged in writing. He was a stoutman, large of countenance, with smallblack eyes under bushy brows which wereblack, although his hair was gray. Hescowled heavily at the intruder who failedto remove his hat, and who stood, withfeet well apart, in the doorway, awhimsical smile playing on his lips.

In a sweeping glance Rathburn saw thatthe room contained a bed, wardrobecloset, several chairs, and other articles offurniture and decoration of a bedroom andliving room. His eyes flashed back to theburly man sitting at the table, pen poised,coolly surveying him with a frown.

“Your name Jud Brown?” he asked,stepping inside the room and to the side ofthe door toward the table where he couldnot be seen from the street.

“I’m Judge Brown,” replied the large mantestily. “You should have knocked beforeyou came in, but now you’re here, stateyour business as quickly as possible.”

“That’s a businesslike tone that I admireto hear, Brown,” drawled Rathburn.“You’ll excuse my not callin’ you judge.

I’m afraid when you find out who I amyou’d think I was kiddin’ you!”

He smiled amiably while the justiceglared angrily.

“You’re drunk!” flared Brown. “The bestthing you can do is get out of here––quick.”

Rathburn looked pained. “First you ask meto state my business an’ now you tell meto get out,” he complained. “You might aswell know that I never touch likker,” headded convincingly.

Brown was studying him intently with apuzzled look on his face. “Well,” he saidfinally, with a show of irritation, “what doyou want?”

“I want you to tell me the why an’ the

wherefores of this document,” saidRathburn sternly as he drew a foldedpiece of paper from a pocket and spread itout on the table before the astonished gazeof the justice.

“That’s one of a number I saw tacked ontrees on the east trail out of here,”continued Rathburn, frowning. “What’s itall about, Brown?”

The pen in the hand of the justice suddenlybegan to waver as the hand trembled.Then Brown dropped it, squared away hischair, and looked grimly at his nocturnalvisitor. For some moments his gaze wasconcentrated on Rathburn’s face. Then heslowly read the poster offering a rewardof five hundred dollars for The Coyote.He wet his lips with his tongue.

“So I was right!” he exclaimed. “Youwere headed in this direction. I’massuming that you’re The Coyote!”

“And you’re assuming what’s the bare,untarnished truth,” said Rathburn. “I’mThe Coyote you’ve offered five hundredfor, an’ who’ll bring another five hundredin several counties in Arizona, not tomention five thousand that the State ofArizona has tossed into the pot. I supposeI’m worth at least ten thousand as I standhere.”

“That would be cheap for a man of yourreputation!” said the justice bravely. “Wedon’t want you across the line inCalifornia, Coyote. We won’t put up withyour depredations, and if you murder oneof our citizens you’ll hang!”

Rathburn’s chilling laugh hung upon thejustice’s words. “You’re side-stepping thepoint,” he said suddenly in crisp tones thatwere like the crack of a whiplash.“You’re anticipating events, Jud. That’smy complaint––that’s my business herewith you.” He brought his right palm downupon the table smartly.

“An’ now that I’m here, Jud, you’re suregoin’ to listen!”

“Don’t threaten me!” cried the justice.“There are a hundred men within call andthey’d make short work of you if they gottheir hands on you. Darn your ornery hide,I’m holding the winning cards in thisgame!” he concluded excitedly.

Rathburn was smiling at him; and it wasnot his natural smile. It gave the justice

pause as he looked up into those narrowedgray eyes, shot with a steel-blue light.Rathburn’s right hand and wrist movedwith incredible swiftness, and Brownfound himself staring into the black boreof a six-gun. Still he saw the eyes abovethe weapon. His face blanched.

“There are six winning cards in my righthand,” Rathburn said slowly. “You canstart shoutin’ for those hundred men youmentioned just as soon as you want.Brown, it’s you an’ your kind that’s mademe desperate––dangerous, like you said inthat printed notice. I won’t fool with youor any other man on earth!”

“What––what did you come here for?”stammered the justice.

“To get away from––from back there in

that cactus-bordered country of black,lava hills where I was born an’ where Ibelong!” said Rathburn grimly, slidinginto a chair on the opposite side of thetable from Brown.

“Listen to me! I was driven out. I’veridden for a week with the idea of gettin’where I wasn’t known an’ where I couldmaybe get a fresh start, and here I find areward notice staring me in the face fromthe top of the first hill I cross after leavingArizona. I’ve never been here before; I’vedone nothing to molest you or your town;but you sic the pack on me first off an’hand-running, without any reason, exceptthat you’ve heard things about me, Ireckon.”

Brown nodded his head as Rathburn

finished. A measure of composurereturned to him. His eyes gleamed withcunning as he remembered that his frontdoor was unlocked and some one might bychance come in. But he again felt troubledas he conjectured what might happen insuch event.

“You cannot blame me,” he said toRathburn. “You’ve robbed, and you’re akiller–––”

“That’s what you hear?” thunderedRathburn. “I admit several robberies––holdups of crooked, gambling joints likeyou’ve got in this town, an’ petty-larcenybankers who robbed poor stockmen withsanction of the law. I’ve killed one manwho had it coming to him. But I’veshouldered the blame for every killing an’

every robbery that’s been staged in thedesert country for the last three years.‘The Coyote did it,’ is what they say, an’the crooks an’ gunmen that turned the dealgo free. I’m talking to you, Brown, as manto man––a thing I’ve never done with anymouthpiece of the law before. I’m tryingto show you how you an’ your kind canmake a man an outlaw an’ keep him onetill somebody shoots him down. I’m sore,Brown, because I know that one of thesedays I’m going to get it myself!”

The justice saw that the man was indeadly earnest. He saw the hand resting onthe table tighten its grip upon the gun.

“I didn’t know all these things,” he saidhastily. “I had to judge by what I heard––and read. Why didn’t you make all this

known to the Arizona authorities?”

Rathburn laughed harshly. “Because I’d beframed clear across the board,” he saidjeeringly. “It’s the law! It’s as much of acrime to rob a thieving gambler or a snakeof a whisky runner or peddler as it is torob a home! I’ve had to rob to live! An’all the while there’s been the makings ofone of the hardest-lookin’ bad men thatthis Southwest country ever saw in me.And, now that I think of it, why the devilI’ve held off I don’t know!”

Brown was moved by the sincerity of theman. He saw in Rathburn’s eyes that hewas speaking the gospel truth. He sawsomething else in those eyes––theyearning of a homeless, friendless man,stamped with the stigma of outlawry,

rebelling against the forces which wereagainst him, relentlessly hunting himdown.

“You say you came here to start over?” heasked curiously. “How do I know youwon’t walk right out of this office and turna trick right here in this very town?”

“You don’t know it, that’s the devil of it!”exclaimed Rathburn. “An’ there’s no usein my telling you I won’t, for you wouldn’ttake my word for it. You’ve got mepegged for a gun-fightin’ bandit of firstwater an’ clear crystal, an’ I won’t try towise you up because it wouldn’t do anygood. Now that you know I’m in thiscountry, you’ll blame the first wrong thingthat happens on to me. I’ve got no businesshere talking to you. I’m wasting my breath.

You’ll have to find out from somebodybesides me that I was telling you the truth,an’ I reckon that coincidence ain’t in thepictures. Where’s your handcuffs?”

The justice stared at him, startled.

“Where’s your handcuffs?” insistedRathburn angrily.

“In the drawer of my desk out in front,”replied Brown.

“Go an’ get ’em an’ bring ’em here,”Rathburn commanded. “I’ll keep my dropon you under cover.”

Brown rose and went to his desk in thefront room while Rathburn watched him inthe doorway with his gun held under hiscoat.

When the justice returned to the insideroom Rathburn moved a chair closeagainst one of the bedposts. He compelledBrown to sit in the chair, put his handsaround between the supports in the back,and about the bedpost. He handcuffed himin that position.

Drawing a bandanna handkerchief from apocket he swiftly gagged the justice. Thenhe rummaged about the room until hefound a piece of rope tied about a pack inthe bottom of the wardrobe. With this hesecured Brown’s ankles to the front legsof the chair.

“There!” he said, standing back to viewhis handiwork. “You’re pretty welltrussed up. I ain’t trusting you any morethan you’d trust me, an’ I don’t figure on

you raising any hue an’ cry before I canget along on my way.”

The eyes of the justice were rolling as hestruggled in vain to speak.

“Never mind,” said Rathburn. “I reckon Iknow what you want to say. Under thecircumstances, the same being so much onmy side, you’d say you believed me an’all that. But I took a chance in coming hereto tell you what I did an’ I never aim totake more’n one chance in a day. So long.”

CHAPTER IV

“I KNEW HE LIED!”

Rathburn extinguished the light in thelamp, walked swiftly to the front door,and outside. Closing the door softly heturned back up the street. He saunteredalong slowly, debating his next move.Evidently the town was the last for manymiles in the mountainous country east andnorth. Westward he would come uponmany towns as the country became moreand more densely populated toward thecoast. Northwestward he would be able tokeep within the arm of the mountains and

still be in touch with civilization. But hewould have to make some changes in hisattire and fix that brand on his horse.

Instinctively his course brought him to thebig resort he had noticed upon his arrival.The entrance doors had been closedagainst the chill of the night, but he couldsee the interior of the place through one ofthe windows despite the coating of dustupon the glass.

As he peered within he stiffened to alertattention and a light oath escaped him.Walking swiftly from a rear door was atall man, the lower part of his faceconcealed by a black handkerchief. Heheld a gun in each hand and was coveringthe score or more patrons of the placewho had risen from the tables, or stepped

back from the bar, with their hands heldhigh above their heads.

“Keep ’em there an’ you’ll be all right,”the masked man was saying in a loudvoice which carried to Rathburn throughcracks in the window glass. “Line updown there, now––you hear me? Line up!”

The patrons lined up, keeping their facestoward the bandit.

“If anybody gets to acting uneasylike it’llbe the signal for me to start shootin’––understand?” came the holdup’s menacingvoice as he moved around behind the bar.

“Open both cash drawers,” he ordered theservitor in the white apron. He coveredthe bartender with one gun while he keptthe other pointed in the direction of the

men standing in line.

Obeying instructions, the bartender tookthe bills from the cash drawers and laidthem before the bandit on the bar. He thenmade several piles of silver near the bills,walking to and from the drawers of the bigcash register. Continuing to do as he wastold, he stuffed the bank notes and silverinto the masked man’s pockets, one gun’smuzzle against his breast, the otherholding the men in line at bay.

Rathburn heard footsteps on the walkclose to him. He whirled and saw twomen about to enter the resort. “I wouldn’tgo in there,” he said sharply in a lowvoice.

“Eh––what’s that?”

The two men paused, looking at himquestioningly.

“I wouldn’t go in there,” Rathburnrepeated. “Come here an’ take a look.”

One of the men stepped to his side andpeered curiously through the window.

“Bill!” he whispered excitedly. “Lookhere. It’s a holdup!”

The other man looked over his shoulder.He swore softly.

“I’ll bet it’s The Coyote!” said the firstman in an awed voice.

“Probably is,” said Rathburn sneeringly.“They say he was heading this way.”

“Good place to stay out of––if it’s him,”declared the second man.

Rathburn suddenly pulled back his leftsleeve. “See that?” he said, pointing to hisleft forearm.

The two men stared at the bared forearmin the yellow light which shone throughthe dust-stained window. They saw a scarabout three inches below the elbow.

“Looks like a bullet made that,” one of themen observed.

“You’re right,” said Rathburn, lettingdown his shirt sleeve. “A bullet from TheCoyote’s gun left that mark.”

The men looked at him wonderingly andrespectfully.

“You boys live here?” asked Rathburn.

“Sure,” was the reply. “We work in the

Pine Knot Hotel an’ stables. You from thehills?”

“Yep,” answered Rathburn. “Cow-puncher an’ horseshoer an’ one thing an’another. What’s he doing now?” He againturned his attention to the scene within theresort, as did the two men with him.

The bandit was backing away from the bartoward the rear of the room, still keepinghis guns thrust out before him, menacingthe men who stood with uplifted hands.

“You can tell your funny judge that Icalled!” he sang out as he reached the reardoor. “An’ now, gents,” he continued in anexcited voice, “it won’t go well with theman that tries to get out this back way toosoon.”

As he ceased speaking his guns roared.The two large hanging lamps, suspendedfrom the ceiling in the center, went out tothe accompaniment of shattered glasscrashing on the floor. The three smallerlamps above the back bar next were cut tosplinters by bullets and the place was intotal darkness.

Then there was silence, save for the soundof a horse’s hoofs coming fromsomewhere behind the building.

Rathburn drew back from the window as amatch flared within and his twocompanions moved toward the front door.He stole around the corner of the buildingand started on a run for the rear. Hestopped when he heard a horse gallopingtoward the east end of the street behind the

buildings which lined that side. Hehurried behind two buildings which didnot extend as far as the resort and hastenedup the street. He did not once look back.

Behind him he heard shouts and menrunning in the street. He increased hispace until he was running swiftly for thetrees where he had left his horse. Fromabove he caught the dying echoes of hoofsflying on the trail up the foothills by whichhe had come early that night.

The cries down the street increased, a gunbarked, and bullets whined over his head.

“The locoed fools!” he panted. “Didn’tthey hear that fellow ride away?”

But the shooting evidently was of apromiscuous nature, for he heard more

shots around by the rear of the placewhere the robbery had been committed.No more bullets were fired in hisdirection as he darted into the blackshadows of the trees.

He quickly untied his horse, mounted,rode in the shelter of the timber to the easttrail, and began the ascent, urging hishorse to its fastest walking gait up the hardtrail. The fleeing bandit’s sounds ofretreat no longer came to his ears, but hekept on, scanning the open stretches oftrail above in the starlight, a disparagingsmile playing upon his lips.

Back in the little town excitement was at ahigh pitch. Extra lamps had been lighted inthe resort where a big crowd hadgathered. Several men ran to the office of

Judson Brown, justice of the peace, whileothers went in search of the constable.

When Brown failed to answer thesummons at his door, some onediscovered it was not locked, and the littlegroup of men trooped in to find the justicegagged and handcuffed to his bed. Theylighted the lamp and removed the gag.Then acting upon his instructions they tooka bunch of keys from his pocket andunlocked the handcuffs.

He stood, boiling with rage, while theyalternately hurled questions at him andtold him of the holdup.

He ignored their questions as to how hecame to be bound and gagged anddemanded more details of the robbery.

“We took him to be The Coyote,” said thespokesman of the group. He had been oneof the men the bandit had lined up. “Hewas tall, an’ blue or gray eyes, an’–––”

“A puncher from up north picked him outthrough the window,” spoke up one of themen who had encountered Rathburnoutside the resort. “He’d been shot in theforearm by him once––showed us the scar.The robber was The Coyote, all right.”

“Certainly it was him!” roared Brown.“He came in here, tied me up after pullinga gun on me, an’ threatening to kill me,practically, so he wouldn’t have anytrouble pulling his trick. Tried to steer meoff by saying he didn’t come here to makeany trouble. I knew he lied!”

The constable came in as the justice was

finishing his irate speech.

“I’m going to lead this chase myself!”cried Brown. “I want The Coyote, and I’mgoing to get him. I raise that reward to athousand on the spot, and I know thesheriff will back me up. Get out every manin town that can stick on a horse, andwe’ll catch him if we have to comb thehills and desert country till doomsday!”

Already horsemen were gathering in thestreet outside. Feeling was high, for DryLake prided itself on its record of freedomfrom the molestation of outlaws. Therough element, too, was strong for a manhunt, or anything, for that matter,promising excitement.

A quarter of an hour later Brown, whowas accepted as the leader when

emergencies involving the law arose,distributed his forces. He sent two possesof twenty men each north and northwest. Athird posse of a dozen men startedsouthward. Towns to the west werenotified by telephone as was the sheriff’soffice. The sheriff said he would be on hisway to Dry Lake in an hour. He wasamazed that The Coyote should be in histerritory. He, too, wanted the outlaw, andhe praised Brown for his reward offer.

Judson Brown himself led the posse ofthirty men which took the east trail up thefoothills. It was an hour past midnight.The moon had risen and was flooding thetumbled landscape with its cold, whitelight. From different vantage points onridges high above, two men looked grimly

down and saw the moving shadows of theman hunters as they took the trail.

CHAPTER V

A CAPTURE

Three hours after the posses scattered ontheir search for The Coyote, spurred bythoughts of the reward of a thousanddollars offered by San Jacinto county, andJudson Brown’s declaration that thereward would be increased by thethousands more which Arizona had laidupon the fugitive’s head, Rathburn smiledat the rosy dawn in supreme satisfaction.

He had not lost his man’s trail during theearly morning hours. Time and again hehad outwitted the man ahead when the

latter had waited to scan the back trail forsigns of pursuit; more than once he hadgained ground when screened by timbergrowth close to the trail; every stretch ofdust-filled trail had been taken advantageof, while the soft going underfoot haddeadened the sound of his horse’s flyinghoofs.

The bandit had traveled fast and he hadkept steadily to the eastward. This lastwas what caused Rathburn to smile withsatisfaction. The man for whose crimeRathburn was suspected was headingstraight for Rathburn’s own stampingground––the far-distant desert range,which he knew from the low horizon in thesouth to the white-capped peaks in thenorth. To catch up with him would be but

a matter of a few hours, Rathburnreflected contentedly.

Nor had the posse gained upon the twomen ahead. Brown’s men, perhaps, did nothave as excellent specimens of horsefleshas Rathburn and his quarry rode. Nor didthey possess the trail knowledge, thetricks which Rathburn knew, and whichthe latter, more or less to his surprise,found that the man ahead knew. Whateverit was that caused that curling, sneeringsmile of contempt to play upon Rathburn’slips at intervals, it was not scorn of theriding ability of the man he was pursuing.

Moreover, both men ahead were savingtheir horses’ strength against a probablespurt by the posse at daylight. It would notbe a hard matter to follow their trail by the

bright light of broad day. So far as hecould determine, Rathburn did not believethe man ahead knew he was followed by asolitary rider who was between him andthe hounds of the law.

Under the circumstances, the bandit wouldexpect to be pursued by a number,Rathburn reasoned. He was ordering hispursuit on this theory, and he did notintend to take any more time than wasabsolutely necessary in catching up withthe man ahead.

Rathburn’s horse had not been hard riddenthe day preceding, nor for several daysbefore that. He had journeyed westwardby easy stages, taking his time, favoringhis mount in anticipation of someunforeseen emergency which might

require hard riding. And he well knew theextraordinary powers of speed andendurance which the animal possessed.

He frowned as he thought of the brand. Hehad not been under the impression that theiron his horse wore was generally knownto the authorities. He would have to hole-up somewhere in the hills before long andattend to that brand. As it was, it was adead give-away as to his identity. Hecould thank Brown for this bit ofinformation, anyway.

With the dawn, Rathburn found it easier tokeep on his man’s trail without being seenhimself. He gained considerable until heestimated that he was not more than a mileand a half, or two miles at most, behind.

The sun was up when he reached the crest

of the high ridge where was the tall pineand the sign which he had first seen theafternoon before.

He hesitated, debating whether to let theprinted notice remain with his penciledinscription about the Arizona reward on it,or to tear it down. Then he saw the man hewas pursuing below on the trail. Hemoved swiftly out of sight down theeastern side of the ridge. But when hecame to the next vantage point hediscovered that his man had apparentlyseen him; for he was riding at a madgallop on the trail which wound eastwardalong the edge of the hills.

“Now’s as good a time as any, hoss!” hecried to his mount as he drove in his spursand dashed in swift pursuit.

Down the winding trail plunged horse andrider. The dun slipped and slid on the hardsurface of the steep declivities and finallyemerged upon the more open path whichthe man ahead was following.

Rathburn no longer made any attempt atconcealment. He was after the man ahead,and, somewhere behind, a posse was inmad pursuit. If he were captured before hecould overtake the bandit who wasresponsible for the robbery, the latterwould very likely escape––was certain tomake his get-away, in fact.

Rathburn called upon his horse by voiceand spur for all the speed there was inhim. He could see the fugitive aheadurging his horse to its utmost. The racewas on in earnest. Thus they came to a

long stretch of open, level trail. HereRathburn’s horse began slowly to gain.

The man ahead turned in his saddle, andRathburn saw the glint of sunlight on dullmetal. He brought out his own gun. But theother did not fire. He kept on, half-turnedin the saddle, watching his pursuer keenly.Rathburn continued to gain upon him.

They now were less than half a mile apart,and the fugitive suddenly turned his horsedue north, straight toward the hills, andsent a volley of shots whistling in hispursuer’s direction.

Rathburn held his fire. The bullets flewwide of their mark, and he could see hisman reloading as he rode. Rathburn nowcut across, racing for the point where hethought the other would reach the hills.

His horse rose to the emergency with atremendous burst of speed. He was closeenough now to shoot with a reasonablecertainty of scoring a hit on his flyingtarget. But he had no desire to kill, and hecould not be certain, at that distance, ofmerely wounding his quarry. He alsorecoiled from the thought that he mightaccidently hit the other’s splendid horse.

Just ahead a thin line of straggling pinesranged down the gradual slope from thefirst low ridge of the hills for which theywere heading. Rathburn swung north andgained the shelter of this screen just as theother rider again began firing. The treesnow were between them, and each was anequal distance from the gentle slope of theridge.

Rathburn called upon his horse for a last,heartbreaking burst of speed and the dunmade good. At the beginning of the slopeto the ridge, Rathburn veered sharply tothe right and burst through the trees a scantrod or two from his man. His gun wasleveled straight at the other, who had beencaught momentarily off his guard.

“Drop it!” shouted Rathburn, racingtoward him.

The man’s right hand fell to his side whilehe checked his horse with his left.Rathburn rode in close to him and theycame to a halt. Rathburn’s lips werecurled in a smile of contempt. The otherstared at him, white-faced, his eyes wideand inquiring. The fingers of his right handrelaxed, and the gun fell to the ground.

Rathburn swung low in the saddle andscooped it up, thrusting it into a pocket ofhis coat.

“Now beat it up over that ridge ahead,”Rathburn ordered. “And be quick about it.That posse may be close behind us.”

The other’s eyes lit up with surprise.“You––you’re not an officer?” hestammered.

“Shut up, you fool!” cried Rathburn. “Youwant to stay here an’ talk when there’s ascore or two of men after us? I’m worsethan an officer. Slope for that ridge now.Hurry!”

The man put the steel to his horse, andthey dashed up the slope, crossed theridge, and found themselves in a thick

growth of timber which covered a largearea.

“Pick your way into the middle of thatpatch of timber,” snapped out Rathburn.“An’ don’t forget I’ll be right close behindyou. Get going––don’t gape!”

The captive’s face flushed at the other’smanner and the indubitable note ofcontempt in his voice. But he obeyed theinstructions and pushed into the timber.

When they had proceeded some distanceRathburn called a halt. “Ever been in thiscountry before?” he demanded with asneer.

“Yes.” The other was more composednow. He studied his captor curiously andseemed more at ease. Evidently he was

heartened by the fact that Rathburn hadsaid he was not an officer and he believedhim.

“I suppose you’re after what I’m carryingon me,” he said with a touch of bitterness.“I guess I’d have had as much chance asI’ve got now if I’d started shootin’ evenafter you got the drop on me!”

Rathburn laughed harshly. “You never hada chance from the start, if you only knewit,” he jeered. “Why, you upstart, you’renot entitled to any chance!”

The other man’s face darkened in swiftanger. “Brave talk,” he said sneeringly.“You’ve got me where you want me, soyou can say anything.”

“I’ve got a pile to say,” replied Rathburn

shortly. “But this isn’t the time or place tosay it. We want to be good an’ away outof that posse’s path––an’ quick.”

“You might as well take what you’re afteran’ then each of us can look out forhimself,” was the hot retort.

Rathburn looked at the man quizzically.“You’ve got more spunk than I thought,”he mused.

He stared at the other man closely. Thebandit could not have been more thantwenty-five or twenty-six. He was tall,well-built, blond. His hair and eyes wereabout the color of Rathburn’s. ButRathburn particularly noted the man’sface, and whatever it was he saw therecaused him to shrug and frown deeply.

“What’s your name?” he demandedcoldly.

“Percy,” sneeringly replied the other.

“That’s good enough for me,” saidRathburn cheerfully. “All I need is a nameto call you by. Now, Percy, if you’reacquainted with this country in here an’can steer the way to where the posse’ll beliable to overlook us you better be leadingon. I see you’ve ditched your other gunsomewhere––you had two.”

“So you want me to take you where you’llbe safe so you can rob me, maybe shootme down, an’ then make your get-away,”the other accused.

Rathburn looked him straight in the eyes.“If you think I’m the kind of a man who’d

shoot another down in cold blood when hewas helpless you don’t know much abouthuman beings,” he said slowly. “I have nointention of murdering you or harming youa-tall, if you’re halfway careful. If youfeel that it’s against your principles tolead this expedition to temporary safety,we can turn back toward Dry Lake. We’regoing to do one thing or the other withinone minute!”

“Oh, come on,” muttered the captive. Heled the way through the timber to itswestern edge, then turned north in theshelter of the trees traversing a long, high,rocky ridge.

“Our horses won’t leave any tracks here,”he called back. “Or maybe you don’t carewhether we leave any tracks or not,” he

added sarcastically.

Rathburn spurred his horse alongside ofhim. “It doesn’t make a bit of difference tome,” he said. “You’re the one that’s got tobe scared of that posse, Percy, not me. If itwasn’t for one thing I’d take you rightdown there to meet ’em!”

The other looked at him both in anger andperplexity. “Suppose you’d object totellin’ what that one thing is,” he saidsavagely.

“Well, it may be that I feel sorry for you,”said Rathburn as if to himself. “An’ it maybe that I want credit for bringing you inwithout the help of any posse an’ withoutthem knowing it!”

CHAPTER VI

THE REAL LOW-DOWN

They rode on in silence. When theyreached the north end of the ridge the manin the lead turned west on a slope studdedwith large boulders and rockoutcroppings. There was considerableshale here, too, and they had to proceedcautiously in spots, both for fear of slidingdown the shale and to prevent makingmuch noise.

“If they follow us up here, we can hear’em before they get to us,” said the manwho called himself Percy, with a shrug

and a frowning look at his companion.

Rathburn did not reply.

They continued across the slope anddescended into a large bowl or pocket,guarded by huge boulders and scatteringtrees on the slope above.

“Guess it’s safe to rest our horses here,”said Percy. “We can hear ’em comingeither way; but I don’t think they’ll get uphere.”

However, neither he nor Rathburn knewhow many men Brown had at hiscommand, nor did they know that thesheriff of the county, with two deputies,had raced to Dry Lake by automobile,procured horses, and hastened to joinBrown on the east trail, which seemed the

most likely route of escape for the outlaw.

There was a spring in the pocketsurrounded by a small meadow of goodgrass. The pair watered their horses,loosened their saddle-cinches, andpermitted the animals to graze with reinsdangling.

Rathburn took his slicker pack from therear of his saddle and spread it open onthe ground.

“Reckon it’s safe to build a small firehere?” he asked cheerfully. “I’m powerfulhungry, an’ I’ve got some emergencyprovisions––being trail-broke.”

Percy, too, was hungry, as his eager looktoward the pack testified.

“I’ll climb up to the top on the lower side

an’ keep an eye out while you fix somegrub,” he volunteered. “You needn’t bescared of me jumping over the other side.There’s a drop of about five hundred feetover there.”

“Go ahead and jump if you want,” saidRathburn. “Me––I’d rather live. That’swhy I want to eat.”

While the other climbed to his lookoutposition Rathburn made a fire. Then hetook a small frying pan and coffeepot,minus its handle, from the pack, removedthe packages stuffed in them, and soonwas making coffee, frying bacon, andwarming up beans. This, with some hardbiscuits and some sirup out of a bottle,constituted their meal, which Rathburnsoon had ready.

Again he looked closely at Percy’s face asthe latter scrambled down from his perchto appease his hunger.

Suddenly he burst out laughing; but it wasa belittling laugh, half sneering, whichbrought the blood to the face of the captivewhile Rathburn watched him closely.

“If I had to-day’s actions to do over againyou mightn’t be so tickled,” said the manviciously.

“I’m laughing to think how lucky you arefor a rank beginner an’ botcher!” saidRathburn as they began to eat. “You musthave took a course in outlawing fromsome correspondence school,” hecontinued.

“Maybe you could have done better,”

hinted the other.

“Quite likely I could,” admitted Rathburn.“In the first place I’d have shut that backdoor after I came in so nobody could potshot me from behind. Yes, I reckon I’dhave done that.”

Percy glared at him thoughtfully.

“Then I wouldn’t have let myself get inline with the front and side windows,”Rathburn taunted. “Lots of men are shotthrough windows. Ever hear of such athing?”

His listener didn’t answer.

“An’ now that I think of it,” Rathburndroned on, “I’d have lined those men upagainst the wall with their faces turnedaway from me. That puts ’em at more of a

disadvantage, an’ they can’t see what’sgoing on.”

Percy now was regarding him keenly.

“Let’s see,” said Rathburn, withtantalizing slowness. “Oh, yes, Percy. Iwouldn’t have taken anything from thecash drawers but the bills. I don’t like totake the time to monkey around with a lotof silver; besides, it sort of weights onedown.”

He paused long enough to let that sink in,then continued: “The thing I’d have paidmost of my attention to––excepting forkeeping a watchful eye on the men againstthe wall an’ the windows an’ doors––would have been the safe. The bigmoney’s usually in the safe, an’ thebartender can be induced to open the safe

just as easy as he can be persuaded intoopening the cash drawers. An’ say, Percy,I’d never let a bartender get as close to meas you let that fellow get to you. He mightstart something, then you’d have to beginshootin’ an’ that would alarm the town an’ball up the program.”

“You talk like you’d had considerableexperience,” observed Percy warily.

“Maybe so. Maybe I have. But if I have, Ican say I’ve never pulled anything quite soraw as the way you pulled that stunt lastnight down in Dry Lake, Percy. That is thereal low-down on that. You just naturallylaid yourself open to attack from allquarters.”

His captive looked at him bothrespectfully and sheepishly.

“An’ there’s only one reason why you gotaway with it,” said Rathburn, his eyesnarrowing.

“Because I was lucky like you say, Isuppose,” sneeringly answered Percy.

“No!” thundered Rathburn. “You got awaywith it because they thought you were TheCoyote!”

The captive started; stared at Rathburnwith widened eyes.

“That’s why you got away with it,”continued Rathburn in a hard voice. “An’you thought you’d cinch it when you told’em before you went out that they couldtell their funny judge you called!”

Rathburn’s eyes blazed with angrycontempt. “Trading on somebody else’s

name,” he mocked. “Trying to make outyou was the goods, an’ I believe theythought you was The Coyote, at that. Man,I saw the whole dirty business.”

Percy’s face went white. However, hisemotion was more anger than fear, and hewas prey to an overpowering curiosity.

“How do you know I ain’t The Coyote?”he asked shrewdly.

Rathburn stared at him––stunned. Then heleaped to his feet and his gun flashed intohis hand in a movement too swift for theeye to follow.

“Go over there and look at the brand onmy horse,” he commanded. “Rememberhow that printed bill read that put it inyour fool head to try an’ masquerade as

The Coyote, an’ then read the brand onthat horse!”

The captive rose and without a look backwalked to where Rathburn’s horse wascropping the grass. The left side of theanimal was toward him and for a fewmoments he stood looking with bulgingeyes at the CC2 on the shoulder. Then heturned slowly.

Rathburn’s gaze burned into his, but acool, deliberate light had come into hiseyes.

“So you’re The Coyote!” Percy saidquietly. “I should have recognized you.”

“Yes, I’m called The Coyote,” saidRathburn, walking slowly toward him.“I’m the man they think robbed that joint

down in Dry Lake last night. I’m the manthey’re looking for. I’m the man they wantto make pay for your bungling work.That’s the way it’s gone for three years,Percy. I’ve been blamed for job after jobthat I didn’t even know was pulled off tillI heard they were looking for me onaccount of it. But this is one job they’ll notbe able to lay at my door; for I’ve got theman who’s responsible an’ I’ve got himred-handed!”

“What’re you going to do about it?” askedthe other coolly.

Again Rathburn’s eyes blazed with rage.“Do? Why, I’m just naturally going to takeyou in all by my lonesome an’ turn youover to the sheriff with my compliments.”

Rathburn cooled down as he said this,

drew tobacco and papers from his shirtpocket, and proceeded to build a cigarette.He looked at his man queerly.

“Now I reckon you know why I ain’t gotany idea of taking that money off you,” hesaid.

“They might not believe you,” returned theother.

“I know what you mean. You mean theymight think I was putting up a job on ’eman’ trying to shift the blame on somebodyelse. It can’t be done, Percy. Listen to this:I was looking through the front window ofthat place last night when you held it up.Two men that work in the hotel downthere came along an’ looked in alongsideof me after I warned ’em not to go in. Ishowed ’em this scar on my arm.” He

rolled back his left sleeve disclosing ascar on the forearm about three inchesbelow the elbow.

“I told ’em that scar was made by a bulletfrom The Coyote’s gun,” Rathburn wenton, pulling down his sleeve and drawinghis right hand back to the gun he hadreplaced in its holster. “That scar wasmade by The Coyote’s gun. I shot myselfin the arm by accident some few yearsago. Now, here’s the point: Those menwill remember me an’ remember that scar.The descriptions the sheriff of that countymust have in his office will tell all aboutthat scar. It won’t be hard to identify meby it an’ by the two men that stood outthere by the window with me. So they’llknow I didn’t pull the robbery!”

The other man shifted uneasily on his feet.

“An’ that ain’t all, Percy,” Rathburncontinued. “Somebody saw me running upthe street afterward because they took acouple of shots at me for luck. That’lldovetail with my story. I’ve never beenknown to use two guns. An’ if they wantany more proof all they’ll have to do willbe to stand you up in front of the men youhad in line, dressed as you are with thatblack handkerchief over your face. That’llsettle it. I reckon the sheriff will believeme an’ give me a chance when he hearsthe facts, or I may not wait for a talk withhim.”

“I take it you’ve got me right,” said thecaptive, compressing his lips. “But ifyou’re really The Coyote I’ve heard so

much about, you’ll give me my gun an’give me a chance to run for it!”

Rathburn’s laugh jarred on his ears. “Giveyou a chance an’ take a chance myself ongoing to the gallows?”

“The gallows!” exclaimed the other.“Oh––I see. But didn’t you say you thoughtthe sheriff would give you a chance if hemet you an’ heard your story? At that youdon’t have to stay around an’ get takenback to Arizona now.”

“They hang men in this State,” Rathburninterrupted.

“But––there wasn’t–––” The other manfaltered, staring.

“One of those shots you fired at the lampwent wild, or glanced off something,

an’–––” Rathburn lifted his browssignificantly.

“Killed somebody!” cried the other.

He staggered back just as a rattle offalling stones signified that horsemenwere in the shale on the slope to eastward.

CHAPTER VII

WHERE TO HIDE

For the space of several seconds Rathburnand his captive looked into each other’seyes. Rathburn’s gaze was keen, alert,fired by the quick thinking he was doing.Stark terror showed in the other’s lookwhich gradually changed to one ofhaunting fear and indecision. Then hiseyes became clear and he returnedRathburn’s glance, cool and questioning.

“Get your horse,” ordered Rathburn,running to his own mount.

In a twinkling he had tightened his cinch,

caught up the reins, and vaulted into thesaddle. His captive was at his side shortlyafterward.

“You’re still in the lead,” Rathburnsnapped out; “unless you want to wait for’em.”

The other whirled his horse, sent himflying for the western end of the pocket,with Rathburn close behind. They went upa steep, rocky trail, screened by boulders.When they reached the top of the west rimthey looked back and saw four horsemenon the shale slope leading to the pocket.Brown evidently had split up his posseand was literally combing the hills for hisquarry.

“They’ll know they’re on the right trailwhen they see the remains of our dinner

an’ my pack down there,” remarkedRathburn dryly.

“But they haven’t seen us yet,” said Percybreathlessly. “If we can make SunriseCañon Trail we can lose ’em in themountains––that is if you want to lose’em.”

“Where’s the trail?” asked Rathburn.

“’Bout five miles west. It’s the only trailgoin’ up into the big mountains betweenhere an’ the other side of the Dry Lakerange, an’ it’s a tough one.”

Rathburn quickly sized up the countryahead. He saw low and high ridges withtowering mountains to the right, or north,of them. There were scattering pines onthe slopes and patches of timber in the

wide ravines, many of which wereveritable valleys.

“We’ll run for it while they’re getting inan’ out of that hole,” he suddenly decidedwith a click of his teeth. “Their horses arein no better shape than ours. Slope along.”

The other had dug in his spurs even beforehe got the order. They rode swiftly downthe steep trail from the rim of the pocketand fled across an open space and up theslope of the first ridge.

Rathburn looked back as they crossed it,but could see no sign of their pursuers.His face still was troubled; his gaze keptboring into the back of the man on thehorse ahead of him. At times he mutteredto himself.

They galloped up the hard bed of a dryarroyo and swung westward acrossanother rock-bound ridge, picking theirway carefully among the boulders.Rathburn’s face became more and morestrained as he noted that the leaderevidently knew the country they were inlike a book. Rathburn, with the experienceborn of years spent in the open places,was able to keep his bearings.

They had followed a course for somemiles north of the main trail leading east,the trail by which he had first come intothe locality. Then they had doubled backwestward, some miles above that trail, ofcourse, and now were heading almost duenorth again, in the direction of themountains which did not appear to be far

away. He surmised that they were nearlydirectly north of the ranch where he hadhad the meal with the girl and boy.

At the top of the next ridge his guidepointed above them.

“See that crack in the mountain?” he said.

Rathburn nodded as he made out whatappeared to be a gash in the steep side ofa mountain north of them.

“That’s Sunrise Cañon,” said the otherquietly. “There’s a trail up that cañon intothe heart of the mountains where theycouldn’t catch us––or you, if you want togo alone––in a hundred years!”

He stared steadily at Rathburn.

“Mosey along, then,” said Rathburn.

“Let’s get somewheres before our horsesdrop.”

They kept along the ridge until it was cutby a cañon. Here they descended andentered another long, narrow ravine whichthey negotiated at a gallop. At its upperend they again climbed a steep slope.Their horses were showing the strain ofthe hours of hard riding. Rathburn realizedthat they could go but a limited distance.But the members of the posse mostassuredly must be in the same fix so far astheir mounts were concerned.

He decided that if they could get into thecañon unseen they would be able to resttheir horses and remain secure for thenight. Next morning they could continue onup into the hills, or slip back by a

roundabout way to Dry Lake.

His lips froze into a thin white line. Hedid not look at the man with him as theypaused for a few moments under the treeswhich covered the top of the ridge andgazed at a long, gently sloping stretch ofnearly open country. It was covered withclumps of trees at intervals, that reachedt o the dark, narrow opening in themountains, marking the entrance to SunriseCañon and the trail to the fastnesses of thehigher hills.

“You can swing off here to the left an’down a wide valley to where there’s acut-off into Dry Lake,” he heard hiscaptive suggesting. “I don’t see any sensein all this hard ridin’ an’ hidin’ if you’regoin’ to turn me in.”

“We’ll go on,” growlingly repliedRathburn.

They descended the ridge and entered thelong, sloping valley, so wide that itvirtually was a plain. They made goodheadway, although they favored theirhorses. They took advantage of the shelterprovided by the occasional clumps ofpines. The afternoon was drawing to aclose with the sun dipping sharply towardthe western hills when they came in sightof the entrance to the cañon. But with thefirst glimpse they checked their horses andturned into the shelter of some trees nearby.

“Beat us to it!” exclaimed Percy.

“Four of ’em,” said Rathburn, frowning.“Brown ain’t taking any chances. He’s a

better man than I figured him out. An’there’s more of ’em!”

He pointed westward where two riderswere barely discernible on the crest of aridge. They disappeared almostimmediately in the timber below.

“We’ll turn back,” Rathburn decided.“We’ll ride with the trees between us an’the men up at the cañon, an’ keep an eyeout for the pair to the west. You mightwatch that side, an’ I’ll look out for theeast an’ south. C’mon, let’s drift.”

The face of the man who called himselfPercy was white and strained as theyurged their tired mounts southward. Theyskirted the western end of the ridge bywhich they had gained the wide valley andcontinued on, carefully scanning the

landscape in all directions for indicationsof pursuit. It was plain to them that theyhad been seen to leave the east trail earlythat morning. Brown and his menundoubtedly knew they had headed north,and the justice had immediatelydispatched men to guard the entrance tothe cañon trail into the mountains. Thenthey had begun a systematic search of thelocality.

This deduction was strengthened whenRathburn suddenly pointed toward theeast. More riders were to be seen on theslope of the valley’s side in that direction.Even as they looked, these riders, too,disappeared from view as they droppeddown behind a rise of ground.

The sun was going down fast. Already the

red banners of the sunset were flaunted inthe high western skies. The twilight wouldbe upon them apace––the long-lasting,purple-veiled twilight of the altitudes.Then the night would close down with itscanopy of stars.

Rathburn looked speculatively at hiscompanion. “We’ll make a break for thatclump of trees about a quarter of a mileahead with all our horses have got left,”he said, driving in his spurs.

In a last mad dash which taxed every iotaof strength and endurance left in theirbeasts they gained the shelter of the littlepatch of timber.

“Here we’ll wait,” said Rathburn coollyas he dismounted.

“What?” cried the other, staring at himincredulously. “We ain’t quite surroundedyet. We haven’t seen anybody in the south.That way may be open an’ it’s liable to beclosed while we’re stayin’ here.”

“Get off your horse and unsaddle him,”commanded Rathburn sternly. “The bestplace to hide from a posse is in the middleof it!”

CHAPTER VIII

TWO QUEER MOVES

The captive complied with the order,looking at Rathburn in a peculiar way––half disgusted, half contemptuous. Indeed,he turned his back on the other, leanedagainst the slender trunk of a pine, andstared steadily into the south. He appearedmuch worried.

The horses welcomed the chance to rest.

Rathburn walked slowly back and forththe width of the patch of timber, vigilantlykeeping watch. He paid no attentionwhatsoever to the man leaning against the

tree. For all the interest he displayed hemight have completely forgotten his veryexistence. In time this got on the other’snerves.

“I believe you lied when you said therewas a man killed down there last night,”he said coolly.

“I didn’t say anybody was killed,”Rathburn returned without looking in hisdirection. “You assumed that part of it.”

“Then you wanted me to think so,” saidthe other in a loud voice. “You was tryin’to throw a scare into me!”

Rathburn swung on his heel and steppedsquarely in front of him. “I let you thinkthat to show you what might havehappened,” he said. “Such things have

happened to me an’ swelled the price onmy head. Now, darn you, if you talk thatloud again I’ll choke your wind off!”

The words came with sinister earnestness,but they seemed to rouse some dormantstrain of extraordinary courage in the manto whom they were addressed.

He suddenly leaped from the tree andstruck out with all the force at hiscommand.

But Rathburn had anticipated the attack.He knocked the other’s blow aside anddrove his right straight to the jaw.

“There’s a little souvenir to show you thatI mean business, Percy,” he panted.

Percy came back to the attack with eyesgleaming with malice. Again he attempted

to hit Rathburn, but the latter steppedaside with lightning swiftness and drovehome another blow. He followed it upwith a left and right and Percy sprawledhis length on the grass.

After a time he sat up, dazed. Rathburnwas standing over him. But although herealized fully that he was not a match forRathburn in physical combat, anddoubtless was greatly his inferior with hisgun, his spirit was undaunted.

“You better finish me, or drag me in,” hegritted; “for I’ll get you, if I can. I don’tknow what your play is, but you’ve actedtoo queer to-day for me to believe you’reon the square one way or the other.”

“You want some more, Percy?”

“My name is Lamy,” growlingly repliedthe other, as he rose cautiously.

“Oh, o-h. Percy Lamy.”

“No, just Lamy. Lamy’s my name, an’ Iain’t ashamed of it. You’d find it out––sooner or later––anyway, I––expect.” Hestammered during this speech as if he hadjust remembered something––rememberedwhen it was too late.

Rathburn noted the frown and the confusedexpression in Lamy’s eyes. He turnedabruptly and walked away.

A few minutes later he came back to findLa my sitting with his back to a tree,staring unseeing into the deepeningtwilight.

“Lamy,” he said harshly, “we’re going to

get away from this posse––maybe.Anyway, soon’s it’s dark we’ll ride south.It’s just possible we can leave ’em uphere in the hills.”

“Suppose I refuse to go?”

“Then I’ll have to truss you up an’ tie youto your horse, an’ don’t think I won’t doit!” The ring of menace in Rathburn’svoice convinced the other, but he made nocomment.

When darkness had fallen they saddledtheir mounts and started. They rode at ajog, keeping as much as possible in theshadow of the timber. Rathburn noticedthat the valley gradually widened; heshowed interest in his surroundings.

Then, off to the left below them, he saw

moving shadows. He called a halt at thenext clump of trees. “Lamy, are there anyhorses running in here that you know of?”he asked.

“There probably are,” said Lamysarcastically; “an’ they’ve probably gotriders on ’em.”

“No doubt,” returned Rathburn gravely. “Ijust saw some shadows that looked likehorses down to the left of us.”

“I expected they’d shut us off in thesouth,” snapped out Lamy. “You gave ’emplenty of time.”

“We just naturally had to rest our horses,”observed Rathburn. “As it is, they’re notgood for far, nor for any fast riding.Besides, I’ve changed my mind some

since this morning.”

“So? I suppose you’re goin’ to give me achance?” sneeringly inquired the other.

He could see Rathburn’s eyes in thetwilight, and suddenly he shifted in hissaddle uneasily. For Rathburn’s gaze hadnarrowed; and it shot from his eyes steelblue with a flash of fire. His face had setin cold, grim lines. The whole nature ofthe man seemed to undergo a change. Heradiated menace, contempt, coldresentment. The corners of his mouthtwisted down sharply. His voice, as hespoke now, seemed edged like a knife.

“Lamy, hand over that money!”

Lamy’s brows lifted in swiftcomprehension; a look of cunning came

into his eyes––was followed by a gleamof hope, not unmixed with derision. Hethrust his hands into his coat pockets andheld out bills and silver to Rathburn whostuffed the plunder into his own pockets.

“That all of it?” demanded Rathburnsharply. He made no effort to temper thetones of his voice.

For answer Lamy dug into his trousers’pockets, under his chaps, and producedtwo more rolls of bills.

“That’s the chunk,” he said with asneering inflection in his voice. “If youwant I’ll stand a frisk.”

“No, I won’t search you. I take it you’retoo sensible to lie!”

“Thanks,” replied Lamy dryly. “I suppose

I’m free to go now, unless you figureyou’d be safer by killin’ me off.”

Anger, swift and uncontrollable, leapedinto Rathburn’s eyes. Then he laughed,softly and mirthlessly. “If I’d been mindedto do for you, or had any such idea in myhead, I’d have given it to you long beforethis,” he said. “It’s lucky for you, Lamy,that I’m pretty much the breed you thoughtI was.”

“Don’t pose!” retorted Lamy hotly. “Youintended to get that money and make methe goat if you could, from the start. Ifyou’d had any idea of turnin’ me over toBrown you’d have done that little thing,too, long before this.”

“Maybe so,” Rathburn mused, staring atthe other thoughtfully in the dim light of

the stars. “Maybe I will yet. You’re notout of this––an’ neither am I. Thoseshadows down to the left are gettingplainer. What’s that long dark streak overthere on the right?”

“Those are trees,” answered Lamysneeringly.

“Let’s make for ’em,” ordered Rathburn.“Don’t forget you’re still under orders,Lamy. An’ don’t overlook the fact that I’mmore or less in earnest about things ingeneral,” he added significantly.

They rode at a tangent for the dark shadowof the trees. At the edge of the timberensued another long wait, with Rathburnuncommunicative, moodily pacingrestlessly back and forth. The horses hadanother excellent opportunity to rest and

the fagged animals took advantage of it.

Once or twice Rathburn thought heglimpsed a light far down the valley, buthe couldn’t be sure. Neither could he besure he saw the moving shadows on theopposite side of the wide valley again.

The night wore into early morning and themoon added its cold radiance to the faintglow of the myriads of stars. Rathburnsensed the nearness of enemies. Severaltimes he stopped before Lamy, who satupon his saddle blanket with his backagainst a tree trunk and dozed. Rathburnhad to fight off continual drowsiness.

For long hours he walked along the edgeof the pines. He dared not trust himself tosleep. He dared not trust Lamy to standguard while he obtained some rest, and he

knew that when the sun came up and theday began, he would be thoroughly awakeagain; for more than once he had gone twonights without sleep. Also, he assumedthat the hunt would be less spirited duringthe night. Members of the posse wouldthemselves be drowsy, but they couldspell each other and in that way maintaintheir vigil and secure a few hours of rest.

Rathburn’s rage rose at frequent intervalsas he thought of the predicament he was inthrough no fault of his own. More thanonce he glared malevolently at thesleeping Lamy; then the troubled lookwould come again to his eyes and hewould resume his pacing, muttering tohimself, staring into the blue veil of thenight. Once he sat down and removed his

right boot and sock in the darkness; shortlyafterward he again began his pacing.

He felt the pangs of hunger and shook hishead savagely as he thought of the scantysupply of provisions he had beencompelled to leave in the mountainpocket.

His spirits revived as he thought of thehorses. They would be fresh in themorning; and he intended that his horseshould have a grain feed that day.Rathburn always thought of his horse first;and, although it might seem that he taxedthe animal’s powers to their utmost attimes, he never went beyond a certainpoint. He had often said he wouldsurrender to his pursuers rather than killhis mount in evading them.

The first faint glimmer of the dawn waslighting the skies above the ridges to theeastward when he roused Lamy. Heawoke with a start, stared sleepily atRathburn, then got speedily to his feet.

“You been awake all night?” he askedcuriously.

Rathburn nodded, looking at him closely.“Saddle up,” he ordered.

They rode southward at a canter in theshelter of the edge of the timber. When theeastern skies were rosy red and fastchanging to gold with the advent of the sunthey saw two things; a small ranch houseabout a mile southeast of them, and tworiders some distance north.

Rathburn reined in his mount. He looked

at Lamy who met his gaze in defiance.Then Rathburn reached into his coatpocket with his right hand and drew out agun.

“Here’s your shooting iron,” he said, as heheld the weapon out to Lamy.

The other stared at him in astonishment.

“Take it!” snapped out Rathburn. “Take it,or I may change my mind!”

Lamy took the gun wonderingly, balancedit for a moment in his hand, and shoved itinto his holster.

Rathburn motioned toward the south andLamy rode along at his side. They caughtanother glimpse of the horsemen in thenorth. As they drew opposite the ranchhouse, on the west or front side, they saw

a woman leave it and walk the shortdistance to the barn and enter. At thatmoment both Rathburn and Lamy gavevent to low exclamations. They had caughtsight of riders in the south and to the east.They appeared to be surrounded by theposse.

Rathburn looked at Lamy soberly.However, it was Lamy who spoke first.“You said the best place to hide from aposse was in the middle of it,” he saidscornfully. “Why not leave the horses inthe timber an’ run for the house? Maybe ithas a cellar.”

“I reckon that would be as good a move asany,” replied Rathburn, to the other’ssurprise. “I’m game if you are.”

Lamy’s eyes flamed with excitement as he

turned his mount into the trees. They cameto what looked like a bear pit or aprospect hole. It was partly filled withbrush.

“We can hide our saddles in there an’ letthe horses go,” Lamy suggested. “There’sa few horses runnin’ in through here, an’they may join ’em.”

“You can do that with yours,” saidRathburn grimly. “You seem to forget thatthe brand on this dun is pretty wellknown.”

He coolly tied his horse as Lamy followedhis own suggestion, hid his saddle, andturned his mount loose.

They moved back to the edge of the timberand waited until they could see no one in

sight about the house or in any direction inthe valley. Then they started on a run forthe house.

CHAPTER IX

LEAVE IT TO ME

Rathburn had recognized the ranch longbefore they came close to it. It was theplace where he had stopped for a mealwith the girl and the freckle-faced boy twodays before––the day he had gone on intoDry Lake. He saw no sign of the girl or theboy or any one else as they reached thefront door and hurried inside.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lamylook hurriedly about and step into thekitchen. He followed him.

Lamy grabbed part of a loaf of bread and

some cold meat on a shelf above thekitchen table.

“There’s usually a cellar under the mainroom in these square houses,” he said,hurrying back into the larger room.

Rathburn stepped after him, and Lamypulled back the rug before the table anddisclosed a trapdoor. He raised the door,held out the food to Rathburn, andwhispered: “You better get down there.Take this grub an’–––”

“What’s the matter? Isn’t there room forboth of us?” Rathburn put the question in avoice which conveyed surprise.

“I thought it might be better if we––if wedidn’t both hide in the same place,”whispered Lamy. “Then they’d only get

one of us, an’ whichever it was they’dthink he was the one they wanted, see?”He appeared excited.

Rathburn’s eyes narrowed. His right handdarted to his gun in a flash, and the muzzleof the weapon was pressed into Lamy’sribs. “Get down there!” commandedRathburn. “Get down.”

Lamy hesitated with a wild look in hiseyes. The muzzle of Rathburn’s gunpressed harder against his midriff. Hedropped lightly into the cellar. Rathburnpulled the rug against the trapdoor as hefollowed, then let down the door, certainthat the rug would fall into place.

The pair sat upon some gunny sacks in thelittle cellar until their eyes becameaccustomed to the darkness; they could

dimly see each other by the faint lightwhich came to them through some cracksin the floor above.

They heard steps at the rear of the house;then the pound of hoofs from in front.Rathburn saw Lamy staring at him fixedlywith a puzzled look. He frowned at him.Rathburn still held his gun in his hand.Both had forgotten the food which Lamyhad in his lap.

“Say,” whispered Lamy. “What was youridea in givin’ me back my gun?”

He moved closer to get the reply.

“Shut up!” said Rathburn, cocking an eartoward the trapdoor.

The sound of footsteps now was in thekitchen. They heard horses snorting and

men dismounting at the front door. After abrief space there were light footsteps inthe room above followed by the tramp ofheavy boots.

“Good morning, ma’am,” came a deepvoice.

“Good morning,” was the hesitating reply.Rathburn recognized the voice of the girlwho had fed him.

“Ma’am, I’m Sheriff Neal of San JacintoCounty,” continued the deep voice, asseveral feet shuffled slightly. “These menwith me are members of my posse. Maybeyou know Judge Brown?”

“I––I’ve seen him,” answered the girl.

Rathburn could feel Lamy’s knees shakingagainst him in excitement.

“I believe we’ve met some time,” Brownput in. Rathburn thought the justice’s voicesounded tired.

“Ma’am, we’re looking for a man––ortwo men.” It was the sheriff speakingagain. “Have you seen any one aroundhere this morning––any stranger, orstrangers, I mean?”

“Why, no,” replied the girl with abreathless catch in her voice. “I haven’tseen any one.”

“You’re sure?”

Rathburn frowned at the sheriff’s tone,although he kept his eyes on Lamy’s whiteface.

He smiled as he remembered that thesheriff had mentioned two men. This

doubtless was the cause of Lamy’sagitation. Nor did he think Lamy hadforgotten that he, Rathburn, had pointedout that he could prove he didn’t rob theplace in Dry Lake.

“You’re sure?” the sheriff asked again.

“Why, yes,” replied the girl. “I am sure.”

“Maybe she can get us some breakfast,”said Brown hopefully.

“Can you feed five men, ma’am?” askedthe sheriff in a softer tone.

“Just sit down, and I’ll get you somebreakfast,” said the girl.

The two men in the little cellar could hearsome of the men taking chairs and one ortwo going out to look after the horses. The

girl’s light footsteps retreated into thekitchen.

Rathburn smiled mysteriously at Lamywho was shivering with a case of nerves.

“I can’t understand who that was withhim––or following him,” came Brown’svoice. “Somebody must have seen himgetting away and set out on the trail whileit was hot.”

“Either that or saw him beating itsomewheres on the trail east of town an’took after him on suspicion,” drawled thesheriff. “’Spect everybody around herehas seen those reward notices you putout.”

“That’s so,” said Brown. “I had the righthunch when I got the tip he’d left his

Arizona hangout, sheriff. I figured he’dhead this way. Then he had the nerve––well, you know what happened in myoffice.”

The sheriff chuckled. Then he spokeangrily. “He can’t pull any of his stunts inmy territory,” he said growlingly. “I’llhunt him down if I have to put every manI’ve got on the trail an’ keep ’em there. Ifigure, though,” he added hopefully, “thatwe’ve got him cornered in or around thisvalley. We traced ’em here, and we gotsight of ’em yesterday. We’ll have ’embefore night!”

“I hope so,” said Brown grimly.

“I’ve given orders to shoot to kill and notto miss,” thundered the sheriff. “But Iguess the rewards offered for him would

kind of steady the aim of the man that got acrack at him.”

Rathburn’s face went white, and his eyesshot fire as he listened to the sheriff’scruel laugh in which the others in the roomabove now joined.

Lamy signaled that he wished to whisperin his ear, and Rathburn bent his head,although he kept the gun handy.

“I’m not goin’ to risk shootin’ anybody ifwe should be found or cornered,” Lamywhispered. “I thought you ought toknow–––”

“If we’re cornered you leave it to me,”Rathburn came back. “I have reasons foreverything I’m doing. An’ don’t forget thatI’d rather be grabbed for this simple trick

of yours in Dry Lake than for one or twojobs over in Arizona. If things go wrongkeep your mouth shut––don’t talk! If youstart talking any time I’ll try to kill you!”

Lamy drew back from the ferocity inRathburn’s tone and manner. Thatmenacing message was again inRathburn’s eyes.

“Who’s that boy out there?” the sheriffcalled sharply.

“Go in and say how-do-you-do,” came thegirl’s voice from the kitchen. “It’s mybrother, Frankie.”

“Come here, Frankie,” said the sheriff.

The pair below heard light footsteps onthe floor above.

“That’s a fine crop of freckles you’vegot,” said the sheriff.

Rathburn saw Lamy put a hand to his faceand make a grimace.

“Listen, Frankie, did you see anybodyaround here this morning?” asked thesheriff.

“Who––who you looking for?” asked theboy.

Rathburn started; his body suddenlytensed.

“I’m looking for an outlaw they call TheCoyote,” returned the sheriff. “Ever hearof him?”

“Y-e-s. Ed brought home a notice about areward for him.”

“That’s the man we’re after. Rides a dun-colored horse; tall, light-complexioned.Seen anybody like that around here?”

“He was here day before yesterday,” saidthe boy truthfully. “Sis gave himsomething to eat, an’ he went on into town.He didn’t seem like such a bad man to me.Told me never to lie.”

“He was here? Ate here?” The sheriff’svoice was excited.

Rathburn saw Lamy’s eyes widen.

“Frankie,” the sheriff said soberly, “thatCoyote went into town an’ robbed a place.He’s a bad, dangerous man no matter howhe looks or what he says. Have you seenanybody that looked like him since?”

The question was followed by a deep

silence.

Rathburn alert, his eyes gleaming, heardthe sheriff rise.

“Answer me, boy. I’m the sheriff of thiscounty!”

“’Tain’t that––’tain’t that,” said the boy ina tremulous voice. “Only––I’d rather nottell, Mr. Sheriff.”

“You must answer me!” said the officialsternly. “Have you seen any one aroundhere––yesterday or this morning?”

“Ye-e-s.”

“When?” demanded the sheriff. “Don’tlie!”

“This––this morning,” stammered the boy.

“Where? Tell me about it, quick.”

“Two men ran across from the timber tothe house,” replied the boy. “He––he saidnot to lie for him––but–––”

The sheriff stepped quickly to the kitchendoor. “I thought you said no one had beenaround here, ma’am.”

“Why––I didn’t see any one,” came thegirl’s voice.

“I saw ’em from the pasture,” the boyconfessed.

“Then they’re here!” cried the sheriff.“Search the house an’ the barn!”

In the dim, narrow cellar Rathburn washolding his gun aimed at Lamy’s heart.

“You remember what I said about keepin’

your mouth shut?” he asked in a lowvoice, his steel-blue gaze boring into theother’s eyes.

Lamy gasped. Then he slowly nodded hishead.

“That’s your bond!” said Rathburn, astramping feet sounded overhead.

CHAPTER X

CAUGHT IN THE CELLAR

Rathburn rose and crouched under thetrapdoor, gun in hand. Lamy watched him,breathless, perplexed, uncertain. Theyheard men running; then there were nosounds from above and a deathly stillnesssettled down.

Slowly and with infinite care Rathburnraised the trapdoor an inch or two andlistened intently. Lamy scrambled to hisknees on the pile of gunny sacks; butRathburn swung quickly upon him. Theystared at each other in the semidarkness.

“He said two,” breathed Lamy, a curiouslook in his eyes.

“Are you afraid?” mocked Rathburn. “It’sme they want––don’t worry. I may make abreak for it, an’ if I do there’s likely to bepowder burned. You can stay here an’ getout when they take after me, if I go,” saidRathburn, and the sneer in his voicecaused Lamy to flush uncomfortably.

Rathburn petted the gun in his hand. “Butbefore I make a break I want to tell yousomething that I should have told youbefore this, when I had more time–––”

He bit off his speech as there came asudden recurrence of the sounds in thehouse. The trapdoor closed down.

“Where’s the cellar?” came the sheriff’s

authoritative voice.

Many feet tramped upon the floor abovethem. Then they heard the rug strippedback. There was an exclamation from thesheriff and the sound of moving feetsuddenly was stilled.

“Is there any one in the cellar?” the sheriffcalled.

Silence––with Lamy pressing Rathburn’sknee with a hand, and Rathburn smilingthat queer, grim smile which conveyed somuch, yet nothing which was tangible.

“Get around here, you fellows,” theyheard the sheriff order.

The sound of boots and spurs attested tothe quickness with which his order wasobeyed.

Rathburn leaned down suddenly and withlightning swiftness jerked Lamy’s gunfrom its holster near his side. He tossedthe weapon to a corner of the dark cellarjust as the sheriff’s voice was heard again.

“Coyote, if you’re down there I’m notgoing to take a chance fumbling with thatdoor. If you ain’t there, then there won’tbe any harm in what I’m going to do. If Idon’t hear anything when I finish talkingI’m going to give the signal to my men tostart shooting through the floor––and Imean it. If anybody’s down there it’d begood sense to flip up that door and crawlout hands first, an’ those hands empty.”

“Sheriff, you’re bluffing!” said Rathburnloudly.

Then the sheriff spoke again in an exultant

tone. “I figured it was the best hidin’place you could find, Coyote. You’reright; I was sort of bluffing, but I mighthave changed my mind an’ gone onthrough with it. We’ve got you dead torights, Coyote; you haven’t got a chance.There’s seven of us now an’ every man isready to open up if you come out of therea-shooting.”

Rathburn slipped his gun back into hisholster. He raised the trapdoor slowlyuntil it tipped back on the floor leaving theopening into the cellar clear.

“Two of ’em!” he heard some oneexclaim.

He looked up to accustom his eyes to thelight and saw a dozen guns covering him.

“Gentlemen, the landscape fairly bristleswith artillery,” he said amiably. “Who’sthe sheriff? And––there’s Jud Brown.Who let you loose, Jud?”

“I’m Sheriff Neal,” interposed thatindividual, a slight, dark man with abristly mustache. “Come out of there––hands free.”

“For the time being, eh, sheriff? I expectyou figure on fixing those hands so theywon’t be free, eh? Well, all I’ve got to sayis that I hope you won’t spend the moneyfoolishly, sheriff.”

Rathburn leaped lightly out of the cellar.

“Keep that other man down there covered,too,” snapped out Neal. “It’s principlemore than reward money that invites me,

Coyote. Hand over your gun belt an’ becareful how you unbuckle it.”

“Sheriff, it would be against my code ofethics to hand over my gun. It can’t bedone, sheriff; you’ll have to come and getit.”

Neal hesitated, notwithstanding the factthat he had Rathburn covered and thatseveral other guns were covering him.Then he stepped forward, never taking hiseyes from Rathburn’s, and secured theother’s weapon.

“That’s better, sheriff,” said Rathburnwith a queer smile. “You can see how Ihave my pride an’ little superstitions. Noman has ever took a gun from me but whatI’ve got it back! Thanks, sheriff.”

Lamy had come out of the cellar. Severalof the men seemed to recognize him, butkept their silence with dubious looks intheir eyes.

“My guide, sheriff,” said Rathburn,pointing gayly at Lamy. “He was verykind. He showed me around the country––me not being very well acquainted aroundhere. I had to take his gun away from himan’ sort of encourage him along with myown, but he did very nicely.”

“Just what I thought, Neal,” said Brown.“This fellow took after him an’ hecaptured him and made him lead him. Isn’tthat so?” he asked of Lamy.

“Just a minute, Jud,” Rathburn interruptedwith a frown. “I can’t let the importanceof this momentous occasion be transferred

to a subordinate. You must ask yourquestions of me, as I am the central figurein this affair.”

The cry of a girl startled them. She camerunning from the kitchen where she hadfled when the sheriff announced hisintention to shoot through the floor.

“Ed!” she cried, running to Lamy andthrowing her arms about him. “Oh––Ed!”

“Who is he, ma’am?” asked the sheriff.“Your husband?”

“He’s my brother––Ed Lamy.”

“I can recommend him if you need a guidewho knows the country, sheriff,” saidRathburn genially. “I guess he had an ideaof making trouble for me at first, but I hadthe drop on him an’ he soon saw reason. I

had to knock him down last night when hegot fresh, but he did very well. Of course Ihad an advantage on my side.” He noddedtoward his gun which the official still heldin his hand.

“Did he make you guide him?” Neal askedLamy, noting his empty holster.

Rathburn turned so that he could look athis former captive.

Lamy nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “I didn’tknow what minute I was goin’ to get shotin the back.”

Rathburn’s eyes glowed with an amusedlight. “I didn’t have any idea of shootin’him, sheriff; he was too valuable as myescort on the tour. I wonder if the ladycould spare me a cup of coffee an’ a

biscuit?”

He glimpsed the boy in the kitchendoorway behind the sheriff. “Hello,sonny,” he called cheerfully. “Did youcatch those freckles from your brother?”

The boy gazed at him abashed. Therewere actually tears in the youngster’seyes. Ed Lamy and his sister moved intothe kitchen and took the boy with them.The girl had nodded to the sheriff.

“She’ll get you something to eat,” saidNeal. “What have you got on you?” Hestepped to Rathburn’s side.

“Ah––the frisk. I see you are a regulationofficer, sheriff.” Rathburn’s tone fairlyradiated politeness and good cheer. “Thesilver was rather heavy. It ain’t my usual

style to pack much silver, sheriff. There’smore of the bills in my hip pockets. Don’tsuppose there’s more’n a thousand in thewhole bundle.”

The sheriff put the bills and silver on thetable. He investigated all of Rathburn’spockets, returned him his tobacco, papers,and handkerchief, but kept a box ofmatches. Then he felt his prisoner’sclothing to make sure that he had noweapons concealed; he also felt his boottops.

He looked at Rathburn with a gloatingexpression when he had finished; therewas also a glint of admiration in the gazehe directed at him.

“You size right up to the descriptions ofyou, Coyote,” he reflected in a pleasant

voice. “Too bad you couldn’t have been ina better business. I’m glad I caught you,but I ain’t any too––too––well, I might sayany too proud of it. That may be pleasantfor you to hear. But I ain’t discountingyour well-known ability, an’ I want towarn you that I or any of my men willshoot you in your tracks if you startanything that looks suspiciouslike.”

Rathburn yawned. “Sheriff, your courtesyis very greatly appreciated. I only hopewe will arrive in jail or somewhere soonwhere I can get some sleep. I’m all in.”

CHAPTER XI

FREEDOM BEHIND BARS

In the early afternoon the little cavalcaderode into Dry Lake. Rathburn was noddingin his saddle, nearly asleep.

“We’ll keep him here to-night till I can getthe facts straight,” he heard Sheriff Nealsay to Brown.

They dismounted at a small square stonebuilding with bars on the windows. ThenRathburn was proudly led between a lineof curious spectators into jail.

Three rooms comprised Dry Lake’s jail.

The front of the building, for a depth of athird of the distance from the front to therear, was divided into two of these rooms;one, the larger, being the main office, andthe other, much smaller, being theconstable’s private office. The balance ofthe building was one large room, dividedinto two old-fashioned cages with ironand steel bars. The doors to these cageswere on either side of the door into thefront office and there was an aislebetween the cages and the wall separatingthem from the offices.

Rathburn was taken immediately to thecage on the left of the office door. SheriffNeal hesitated as he stood in the cell withhim, thought for a minute, then removedthe handcuffs.

“That’s right fine of you, sheriff,” saidRathburn sleepily, but cheerfully,nevertheless.

“Oh, you’ll be watched well enough,”said Neal as he closed the barred doorbehind him and locked Rathburn in.“You’ll find somebody around if you tryto tear the place down.”

“That wasn’t just what I was getting at,sheriff,” said the prisoner with a glitter inhis eyes. “I meant it was right fine of youto give me freedom behind the bars.”

Rathburn’s taunting laugh rang in theofficial’s ears as the latter pushed the menwith him into the outer office. Rathburnlistened, yawning, to the sheriff givinginstructions that the prisoner be watchedconstantly.

He looked about the cage which wasseparated from the other cell by a wall ofsheet iron. It contained nothing except abench and a stool. He pushed the benchagainst the stone wall at the rear andreclined upon it, using his coat for apillow. Then he turned his face toward thewall, shading his eyes from the light,which filtered through two windows highin the wall beyond the bars on the left sideby tipping his hat over his face.

Immediately he fell asleep.

The news that The Coyote had beencaptured, spread rapidly through the townand many came to the jail hoping theymight be able to see the prisoner. All ofthese were denied admittance, but SheriffNeal told the few who stated that they had

been among the number the bandit hadlined up at the point of his guns, that theywould be called to identify The Coyote onthe following day. He asked each if theywere sure the bandit had two guns, and thereply in each case was in the affirmative.

“That’s funny,” Neal muttered. “He onlyhad one gun on him.”

“More’n likely the other’s on his horsewith his saddle,” Brown pointed out. “Ibelieve he left his horse somewheres an’made that fellow Lamy take him to thehouse thinking he could get something toeat there, and that they wouldn’t be solikely to be seen in the open on foot. Yougot to remember that man’s more or lessclever.”

This explanation satisfied Neal, and in the

minds of the men who had been in theresort when it was held up, there was noquestion as to the identity of the robber.Even if they had suspected otherwise it isdoubtful if they would have acknowledgedit because they considered it less of anignominy to be held up by the notoriousCoyote than by a bandit of lesserreputation.

Thus did the bonds of evidence tightenabout Rathburn while he slept through thelate afternoon and the twilight.

When he awoke a faint yellow light dimlyilluminated his surroundings. He laythinking for several minutes. He knewnight had fallen and surmised that he hadslept a full eight hours. He could tell thisbecause he was fully awake and alert. He

turned noiselessly on his bench and sawthat the light came from a lamp burningnear the door to the outer office.

Rathburn could hear the hum of voices,and by listening intently, ascertained thattwo men were talking, one of whom wasthe sheriff. He could not recognize thevoice of the other speaker as a voice hehad ever heard before, and he could nothear what they were saying.

He listened dully to the voices until heheard a horse’s hoofs in front of the jail.He turned back with his face to the wall,and his hat tipped over his eyes, as a manentered the jail office with a stamp ofboots and jingle of spurs.

“Hello, constable,” he heard the sheriffsay. “What luck?”

“Couldn’t find the hoss,” came adisgruntled voice. “Looked all afternoonan’ till it got dark for him.”

“Confound it!” exclaimed Neal. “Thehorse must have been somewhere aroun’close. He sure didn’t walk down thevalley.”

“That’s probably right,” said the other. “Ileft a couple of your men out there to keepup searching when daylight comes. Thatfeller Lamy showed us about where theyleft the hosses––his hoss an’ TheCoyote’s––but they wasn’t there. He saidthere was a bunch of wild hosses in thevalley an’ that they’d probably got awayan’ gone with ’em. We saw the wildhosses, but we couldn’t get anywhere near’em––couldn’t get near enough to see if

any of ’em was wearin’ saddles or not.We had some chase while it lasted, I’llrecite.”

“Did Lamy say how they came to leavetheir horses?” asked the sheriff in anannoyed tone.

“It was The Coyote’s orders. Thoughtthey’d be safer in the middle of the posseor something like that. Made Lamy leavethe hosses an’ run for the house an’ madehim get down in the cellar with him. Don’tknow if he knew Lamy lived there or not,but reckon it wouldn’t have made anydifference.”

The sheriff was pacing the floor of theoffice as his footfalls attested. “I’veordered that Lamy in to-morrow. I’ve a lotmore questions to ask him. Well, you

might as well get a few winks, constable;Brown and the rest of ’em have hit thehay. Even the prisoner is tired out, andthat’s sayin’ something for as tough a birdas he is. But I wish I had his horse. I’vegot to have his horse!”

Rathburn was smiling at the wall. Heheard Neal walk to the door and look in.Receding footsteps told him that theconstable was leaving. For a time therewas silence in the outer office.

Rathburn sat up quietly and began easingoff his right boot. The boot came slowly,very slowly, as Rathburn worked at it,careful not to make any noise. Then, justas it came free, the sheriff again strode tothe door and looked in.

He saw Rathburn yawning, as the boot

dropped on the floor.

Rathburn looked at the sheriff sleepily asthe official strode into the aisle andpeered in between the bars. He tipped thebootless foot back on its toes as he liftedhis other foot and tugged at the boot.

“That you, sheriff?” he asked with anotheryawn. “The lights are so bad I can’t seegood. Guess I’m a little groggy anyway. Iwas too danged tired when I went to sleepto take off my boots.”

“You’ve got another ten hours to sleep,”said Neal with a scowl. “An’ you’ll haveplenty of time to get rid of your saddlesoreness. You’ll ride in automobiles andtrains for a while an’ keep in out of the hotsun an’ the wet.”

The sheriff laughed harshly at his ownwords.

Rathburn let the other boot drop. “I expectI’ll get something to eat now an’ then,too?”

“Feel hungry?” asked Neal.

“Might chaw on a biscuit before I takeanother nap,” yawned the prisoner.

“I’ll see if I can scare you up a bite,” saidthe sheriff, leaving.

Rathburn heard him say something to someone in front. Then the sheriff went out ofthe building. The other man came in andlooked at Rathburn curiously.

He was of medium build, with white hairand a face seamed and lined and red.

Rathburn instantly recognized in his jailera man of the desert––possibly of theborder country.

“So you’re The Coyote,” said the jailer ina rather high-pitched voice.

Rathburn winked at him. “That’s what theysay,” he replied.

“You size up to him, all right,” observedthe man of the desert. “An’ I can tell quickenough when I get a good look at you an’inspect your left forearm. I’ve had yourdescriptions in front of my eyes on paperan’ from a dozen persons that knowed youfor three years!”

“You been trailing me?” asked Rathburncuriously.

“I have; an’ it ain’t no credit to this bunch

here that they got you, for I was headed inthis direction myself an’ arrived ’most assoon as you did.”

“You from Arizona?” asked Rathburn,grasping his right foot in his left hand.

“I’m from Arizony an’ Mexico an’ a fewother places,” was the answer. “I’vehelped catch men like you before,Coyote.”

Rathburn frowned, still keeping his handover his right foot. “I don’t like that word,Coyote,” he said softly, holding theother’s gaze between the bars. “A coyoteis a cowardly breed of animal, isn’t it?”

“An’ a tricky one,” said the jailer. “I ain’tsayin’ you’re a coward; but you’re tricky,an’ that’s bad enough.”

“Maybe so,” agreed Rathburn. “Ah––here’s our friend, his nibs, the sheriff. Hewent out to rustle me some grub. He wantsto keep me fat for hanging!”

His laugh rang through the jail, empty savefor himself and the two officers. But thetemporary jailer hesitated, looking atRathburn’s eyes, before he turned to thesheriff.

“Open the door and I’ll take it in to him,”ordered the sheriff. “Can’t get this stuffthrough the bars. You might keep himcovered.”

The jailer’s hand flew to his hip for hisgun as he also brought up a large key on aring. He unlocked the door to the cage andheld it open while he kept his gun trainedupon Rathburn.

The sheriff entered and placed the food onthe stool and a large bowl of coffee on thefloor beside it. Then he backed out,watching Rathburn keenly as the latter saton his bench with his right foot in hishand.

When the door clanged shut and the keyrattled in the lock, Rathburn let down hisright foot, took two steps, and pulled thestool to the bench. He stepped back andsecured the coffee. Then he began to eatand drink, keeping his right foot tipped onits toes, while the two officials watchedhim attentively.

“Sheriff,” said Rathburn suddenly,between bites on a huge meat sandwich,“could you let me have a stub of a leadpencil an’ a sheet of paper to write a letter

on?”

“Easy enough,” answered Neal. “Course,you know all mail that goes out of the jailis read by us before it’s delivered––if it’sdelivered at all.”

“I’ll chance it,” snapped out Rathburn.

As the sheriff left to get the writingmaterials, with the jailer following him,doubtless for a whispered confab as towhat Rathburn might be wanting to writeand its possible bearing on his capture, theprisoner hastily ran his left hand downinto his right sock and with some difficultywithdrew a peculiar-shaped leather caseabout ten inches long and nearly the widthof his foot. This he put within his shirt.

When the officials returned he had

finished his repast and was waiting forthem near the bars with a smile ofgratitude on his lips.

“This may be a confession I’m going towrite,” he said, grinning at Neal. “It’sgoing to take me a long time, I reckon, butyou said I had something like ten hours forsleep, so I guess I can spare two or threefor this effort at literary composition. Ifigure, sheriff, that this’ll be mymasterpiece.”

His look puzzled the sheriff as he took thepencil and paper through the bars andreturned to his bunk. He drew up the stooland sat upon it. It was a little lower thanthe bench, so, putting his paper on thebench, he had a fairly good makeshiftdesk. He began to write steadily, and after

a few minutes the sheriff and jailer retiredto the office.

It did not take Rathburn a quarter of anhour to write what he wished on the firstof the several pieces of paper. He tore offwhat he had written, doubled it again andagain into a small square, took out hissack of tobacco which he had beenallowed to retain, and put it therein withthe loose tobacco.

Then he wrote for a few minutes on thesecond sheet of paper.

When the sheriff looked in later heevidently was slowly and laboriouslyachieving a composition.

Rathburn heard the sheriff go out of thefront door a few minutes later. Instantly he

was alert. He drew on his boots. Hesurmised that the sheriff had gone out forsomething to eat and, though he wasn’tsure of this, it was true.

“Oh, jailer!” he called amiably.

The wrinkled face of the desert trailerappeared in the office doorway.

Rathburn looked about from his seat on thestool. “This job ain’t none too easy, as itis,” he complained. “As a writer I’m afirst-rate cow hand. Lemme take yourknife to sharpen this pencil with. When Iasked the sheriff for a stub of a pencil hetook me at my word.”

“Sure I’ll let you have my knife,” said thejailer sarcastically. “How about my gun––want that, too?”

“Oh, come on, old-timer,” pleadedRathburn. “The lead in this pencil’s wornclean down into the wood.”

“Hand it over here an’ I’ll sharpen it,”said the jailer, drawing his pocketknife.

Rathburn walked to the bars and held outthe pencil. An amiable smile played on hislips. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he saidcontritely. “I forgot it wasn’t jail etiquetteto ask for a knife. But I ain’t had muchexperience in jail. Now according to hisnibs, the sheriff, I’m in to get pretty wellacquainted with ’em, eh?”

He watched the jailer as he begansharpening the pencil.

“Speaking of knives, now,” he continuedin a confiding tone, “I got in a ruckus

down near the border once an’ some gentsstarted after me. One of ’em got prettyclose––close enough to take some skin offmy shoulder with a bullet. He just sort ofcompelled me to shoot back.”

“I suppose you killed him,” observed thejailer, pausing in his work of sharpeningthe pencil.

“I ain’t saying,” replied Rathburn.“Anyways I had a hole-up down there fora few days, an’ as luck would have it, Ihad to put up with a Mexican. All thatMex would do was argue that a knife wasbetter than a gun. He claimed it was sureand made no noise––those were hishardest talking points, an’ I’ll be danged ifthere isn’t something in it.

“But what I was gettin’ at is that I didn’t

have nothing to do, an’ that Mexican gotme to practicing knife throwing. Youknow how slick those fellows are atthrowing a blade. Well, in the couple ofweeks that I hung aroun’ there he coachedme along till I could throw a knife as goodas he could. He thought it was great sport,teaching me to throw a knife so good, thata way.

“Since I left down there I’ve sort ofpracticed that knife-throwing businessnow and then, just for fun. Anyways Ithought it was just for fun. But now I see,jailer, that it was my luck protecting me.Anything you learn is liable to provehandy some time. Don’t move an inch orI’ll let you have it!”Rathburn’s hand snapped out of his shirt

and up above his right shoulder.

The man from the desert shudderedinvoluntarily as he saw the yellow lightfrom the lamp play fitfully upon a keen,white blade.

CHAPTER XII

AGAINST HIS ETHICS

Rathburn’s eyes held the other’s ascompletely as would have been the case ifhe were invested with a power to charmin some occult way. Moreover, everytrace of his amiable, confiding smile wasgone. His gaze was hard and cold andgleaming. His face was drawn into grimlines. When he spoke he talked smoothly,rapidly, and with an edge to his wordswhich convinced his listener that he wasin deadly earnest.

“I’m not used to jails, my friend, an’ I

don’t aim to stay here. You’re not very faraway an’ these bars are wide enough forme to miss ’em; but I don’t think I couldmiss you.”

The jailer looked in horror at the gleamingknife which Rathburn held by its hilt withthe blade pointing backward. The jailerwas from the border; he knew the awfulpossibilities of a quick motion of the wristin that position, a half turn of the knife asit streaked toward its target. He shudderedagain.

“Now just edge this way about two stepsso your holster will be against the bars,”Rathburn instructed. “I can drop youwhere you stand, reach through the barsan’ drag you close if need be; but I’mbanking on you having some good sense.”

The jailer, without moving the handswhich held the pencil and his pocketknife,sidled up against the bars.

Rathburn leaned forward. Keeping hisright hand high and tipped back, ready forthe throw, he reached out with his left, justthrough the bars, and secured the jailer’sgun.

“Now it’s all off,” he said quietly. “If thesheriff or anybody else comes before I getout of here I’m just naturally going to haveto live up to the reputation for shootingthat they’ve fastened on me. Unlock thedoor.”

The jailer wet his lips with his tongue.The pencil and pocketknife fell to thefloor. Covered by his own gun, now inRathburn’s hand, he moved to the door,

brought out his key, and opened it. Stillkeeping him covered, Rathburn backed tothe bench, snatched up his coat, andwalked out of the cage, motioning to thejailer to precede him into the office.

There he slipped the gun in his holster andput on his coat. The jailer reckoned betterthan to try to leap upon him while he wasthus engaged; the prisoner’s speed with asix-gun was well known.

Rathburn drew a peculiar leather casefrom within his shirt, put the knife in it,and stowed it away in a pocket. Then heturned on the jailer.

“Maybe you think that was a mean trick––resorting to a knife,” he said pleasantly;“but all is fair in love and war and when aman’s in jail. You better sort of stand in

one place while I look around a bit.”

He backed behind the desk in the bigoffice, opened two or three drawers, andbrought out a pair of handcuffs. He movedaround in front of the jailer again.

“Hold out your hands,” he commanded.“That’s it.” He snapped the handcuffs onwith one hand while he kept the other onthe butt of his gun.

“You don’t seem to have much to say,” hecommented.

“What’s the use?” said the jailer. “I knowwhen a man’s got me dead to rights. ButI’ll be on your trail again, an’ if I ever getwithin shootin’ distance of you an’ seeyou first, you’ll never get another chanceto pull a knife.”

“Well said,” Rathburn admitted. “Now weunderstand each other. But I don’t intendfor you to ever get within shootingdistance of me.”

Rathburn glanced casually about. “Now itseems to me,” he resumed, “that most ofthese fellows who gum up their jail breaksmake a mistake by hurrying. Suppose youjust walk natural-like through that doorand into the cage I just had the foresight toleave. That’s it––right on in.”

He turned the key which the jailer had leftin the lock. “Now you’re all right unlessyou start hollering,” said Rathburn.

He stood quietly in the doorway betweenthe office and the cages. The man from thedesert studied him. He saw a variety ofexpressions flit over Rathburn’s face––

anger, determination, scorn, resolve. Hewas deliberately ignoring his opportunityto make his escape while conditions werepropitious; he was waiting!

Although the jailer felt the urge to cry outin an endeavor to make himself heardoutside the jail and thus bring help,something in the bearing of the manstanding in the doorway made him keenlycurious to watch the drama which he knewmust be enacted sooner or later before hiseyes, for The Coyote was certainlywaiting for the sheriff.

Rathburn now drew the jailer’s gun fromhis own holster and toyed with it to get its“feel” and balance. He dropped it backinto the holster and in a wink of an eyelidit was back in his hand. The man from the

desert gasped at the lightning rapidity ofthe draw. Time and again the gun virtuallyleaped from the holster into The Coyote’shand at his hip, ready to spit forth leadendeath. The jailer drew a long breath. Theman was accustoming himself to theweapon which had come into hispossession, making sure of it. Now heagain stood motionless in the doorway,waiting––waiting–––

Boots stamped upon the steps outside, andRathburn drew back from the doorway inthe aisle before the cages.

The front door opened and a man entered.

Both the man in the cage and the man inthe aisle recognized the sheriff’s step asNeal closed the door, paused for a lookabout the office, and then walked toward

the door leading into the jail proper.

The jailer opened his mouth to sound awarning, but something in Rathburn’s gazeand posture held him silent. Rathburn’sbody was tense; his gaze was glued to thedoorway; his right hand with its slim,brown, tapered fingers, hung above thegun at his side.

The sheriff loomed in the doorway.Without a flicker of surprise in his eyes hetook in the situation. His lids half closedas his lips tightened to a thin, white line.He met Rathburn’s gaze and knew that henow faced The Coyote in the role whichhad won him his sinister reputation.

“Did I mention to you that I wasn’t used tojails, sheriff?” said Rathburn evenly, hiswords carrying crisp and clear. “I don’t

fancy ’em. But I needed the sleep and themeal. Now I’m going. Do you recollect Isaid no one ever took my gun from me butwhat I got it back? I had to borrow thisone from the gent in the cage. I’ll take mygun, sheriff––now!”Neal had watched him closely. He sawthat while he was speaking The Coyotedid not for an instant relax his vigilance.The merest resemblance of a move wouldprecipitate gun play.

He turned abruptly, and with Rathburnfollowing him closely, went into theprivate room off the jail office. Hepointed to the other’s gun which lay uponthe flat desk where many had curiouslyinspected it.

Rathburn took it in his left hand and

ascertained at a glance that it wasn’tloaded. Therefore he elected to carry it inhis left hand.

“I won’t take a chance on feeding it rightnow, sheriff,” he said. “Under thecircumstances it would be right awkward.If you make up your mind to draw I’llhave to depend on a strange gun.”

Sheriff Neal’s eyes glittered; his lipsparted just a little.

“Now if you’ll walk back toward thecage, sheriff,” Rathburn prompted.“Correct––don’t stumble.”

Neal backed slowly out of the door,through the second door into the aislebefore the cages, watching Rathburn like acat.

Rathburn slipped his own weapon into hisleft hip pocket and with his left hand duginto his trousers pocket for the key to thecage. He didn’t take his eyes from Neal’sas he brought it out and inserted it in thelock. His right hand continued to hangabove the gun he had taken from the jailer.

“Sheriff,” he said with a cold ring in hisvoice, “this may seem like an insult, butI’m goin’ to ask you to unlock that cageand go in. You can take your time if youwant, but I warn you fair that if any oneshould start coming up the steps outsideI’ll try to smoke you up.”

For answer Neal, with the glitter still inhis eyes, stepped to the cage door,unlocked it, and swung it open.

He took a step, whirled like a flash––and

the deafening report of guns crashed andreverberated within the jail’s walls.

Neal staggered back within the cage, hisgun clattering to the floor, his right handdropping to his side.

“If I hadn’t been up against a strange gun Iwouldn’t have hit your finger, sheriff,”said Rathburn mockingly. “I was shootin’at your gun.”

He shut the cage door quickly, locked it,and stuck the key in his pocket. Then hethrew the jailer’s gun in through the barsand thrust his own weapon in its holster.

“I want you gentlemen inside, an’ armed,”he said laughingly. “If the jailer will be sogood as to read what’s written on thepaper on the bench, he’ll learn something

to his advantage. Sheriff, you an’ Brownwere wrong in this, but the devil of it isyou’ll never know why.”

He left Neal pondering this cryptic sally,ran to the front door, opened it, anddisappeared.

Neal clutched his injured fingers andswore freely, although there wasamazement in his eyes. He could havebeen killed like a rat in a trap if TheCoyote had felt the whim.

The man from the desert stepped to thebench and read on the sheet of paper:

If anybody ever gets to read this they willknow that what I said about learning tothrow a knife is true. I can do it. I’vecarried that knife in a special case that

would fit in my sock and boot for just suchan emergency as came up to-night. But Inever would have throwed it. It would beagainst my ethics.

The man from the desert swore softly.Then he hurriedly picked up his gun andfired five shots to attract attention.

CHAPTER XIII

A MAN AND HIS HORSE

When Rathburn closed the outer door afterhim he plunged down the steps and intothe shadows by the wall of the jail. Fewlights showed in the town, for it was pastmidnight. He could see yellow beamsstreaming from the windows of the resortup the street, however, as he hesitated.

He was mightily handicapped because hehad no horse. A horse––his own horse, hefelt––was necessary for his escape, buthis horse was a long distance away.

Rathburn stole across the street to the side

on which the big resort was situated, andslipped behind a building just as themuffled reports came from within the jail.After a short interval, five more shotswere heard, and Rathburn grinned as herealized that the jailer had fired theremaining bullets in his own and thesheriff’s guns.

He heard men running down the street. Sohe hurried up street behind the buildingsuntil he reached the rear of the largeresort, which was the place Lamy hadheld up.

Peering through one of the rear windowshe saw the room was deserted except forthe man behind the bar. Even at thatdistance he could hear horses and mendown the street. Doubtless they were

crowding into the jail where the sheriffwould insist upon being liberated at onceso he could lead the chase and, asRathburn had the key, this would result ina delay until another key could be found,or Brown, who probably had one, couldbe routed out.

Rathburn thought of this as he lookedthrough the window at the lonelybartender who evidently could not decidewhether to close up and see what it allwas about or not. But the thing whichimpressed Rathburn most was thepresence of a pile of sandwiches andseveral cans of corned beef andsardines––emergency quick lunches forpatrons––on the back bar. Also, he sawseveral gunny sacks on a box in the rear of

the place almost under the windowthrough which he was looking.

Rathburn stepped to the door in suddendecision, threw it open, and walked in.His gun flashed into his hand. “Quiet!”was all he said to the stupefied bartender.

He scooped up one of the sacks, dartedbehind the bar, brushed the sandwichesand most of the cans of corned beef andsardines into it, and then slung it over hisleft shoulder with his left hand.

“The sheriff will return the money thatwas taken from here,” he said coolly as hewalked briskly to the front door. “Play thegame safe; stay where you are!” hecautioned as he vanished through the door.

There were no horses at the hitching rail,

but he saw several down the street in frontof the jail. Men were running back andforth across the street––after Brown, hesurmised.

Again he stole around to the rear of theresort; then he struck straight up into thetimbered slope above the town, climbingrapidly afoot with the distant peaks andridges as his guide.

Some two hours after dawn he sat on thecrest of a high ridge watching a ridercome up the winding trail from eastward.He had seen other riders going in bothdirections from his concealment behind ascreen of cedar bushes. He had watchedthem with no interest other than thatexhibited by a whimsical smile. But hedid not smile as he watched this rider. His

eyes became keenly alert; his face wasgrim. His mind was made up.

When the rider was nearing his ambush,Rathburn quickly scanned the emptystretch of trail to westward, then leapeddown and confronted the horseman.

Ed Lamy drew rein with an exclamation ofsurprise.

“There’s not much time, an’ I don’t hankerto be seen––afoot,” said Rathburn quickly.“Where’s my horse?”

“He’s in a pocket on a shale slope thisside of the timber on a line from the housewhere you left him,” replied Lamyreadily. “Or you can have mine.”

“Don’t want him,” said Rathburn curtly.“You going in to see the sheriff?”

Lamy nodded. “His orders. Say,Coyote–––”

“He’ll probably meet you on the way,”Rathburn interrupted with a sneer. “Youcan be figurin’ out what to say to him. Mysaddle with the horse?”

“It’s hanging from a tree where you gointo the pocket. Big limestone cliffs therebelow the shale. Say, Coyote, my sisteran’ kid brother was tellin’ me about yourvisit that morning, an’ I guess Iunderstand–––”

“We can’t stand here talkin’,” Rathburnbroke in, pulling the tobacco sack from hisshirt pocket. He extracted a folded pieceof paper. “Here’s a note I wrote you injail before I left. Read it on the way inwhen there’s no one watching you. Maybe

you’ll learn something from it; maybe youwon’t. I expect you wanted money to fixthat ranch up; but you’ll get further bydoing a little irrigating from up that streamthan by trying to be a bandit. You justnaturally ain’t cut out for the part!”

With these words he handed Lamy the notea n d bounded back up the slope. Thescreen of cedar bushes closed behind himas Lamy pushed on, looking back,wondering and confused, with heightenedcolor in his face.

It was late that night when Lamy returnedto the little ranch house. Frankie had goneto bed, but his sister was waiting up forhim with a meal and hot tea ready.

He talked to his sister in a low voicewhile he ate. When he had finished he

read the note for the third time; read italoud, so his sister could hear.

“Lamy: I meant to take you back and giveyou up, for I was pretty sore. Then I saw yourresemblance to your small brother by thefreckles and eyes and I remembered he hadsaid something about you saying somedecent things about me. I guess you thoughtthey were nice things, anyway.“Then I thought maybe you got your ideasabout easy money from the stuff you’d heardabout me, and I sort of felt kind ofresponsible. I thought I’d teach you a lessonby flirting with that posse and telling youthat killing story to show you what a man isup against in this game. I guess I can’t getaway from it because they won’t let me. Butyou don’t have to start. I was going to giveyou a good talking to before I let you go, butI hadn’t counted on the little kid in thehouse. I’m glad he told the truth. He’ll

remember that. I gave you back your gunbecause you hit the nail on the head whenyou said if I was square I’d give it to you andlet you make a run for it.“I took the money off you so if they got us Icould take the blame and let you off. I cant a k e the blame without hurting myreputation, so don’t worry. I’m not doing thisso much for your sake as for your kidbrother and your sister. I figure you’d sort ofcaught on when I heard they hadn’t locatedmy horse. That was a good turn. Do meanother by getting some sense. There’splenty of us fellows that’s quite capable tofurnish the bad examples.

“Rathburn.”

The girl was crying softly with an armabout her brother’s neck when he finishedreading.

“What––what are you going to do,Eddie?” she sobbed.

“I’m goin’ to irrigate!” said Ed Lamy witha new note in his voice. “I’m goin’ tobuild a sure-enough ranch for us with thispiece of paper for a corner stone!”

Dawn was breaking over the mountains,strewing the gleaming peaks with warmrosettes of color. A clear sky, as deep andblue as any sea, arched its canopy above.Virgin stands of pine and fir marched upthe steep slopes to fling their banners ofgreen against the snow. Silver ribbons ofstreams laughed in the welcome sunlight.

In a rock-walled gulch, far above the headof Sunrise Cañon, a fire was burning, itsthin smoke streamer riding on a vagrantbreeze. Near by lay a dun-colored horse

on its side, tied fast. A man was squattingby the blaze.

“I hate to have to do this, old hoss,” theman crooned; “but we’ve got to change thepattern of that CC2 brand if we want tostick together, an’ I reckon we want tostick.”

He thrust the running iron deeper into theglowing coals.

CHAPTER XIV

THE WITNESS

The morning was hardly two hours old,and the crisp air was stinging sweet withthe tang of pine and fir, as Rathburn rodejauntily down the trail on the eastern slopeof the divide and drew rein on the crest ofa high ridge. As he looked below hewhistled softly.

“Juniper, hoss, there’s folks down thereplying a nefarious trade, a plumbdangerous trade,” he mused, digging forthe tobacco and brown papers in thepocket of his shirt. “I reckon they’re

carrying on in direct defiance of the law,hoss.”

The dun-colored mustang tossed his headimpatiently, but his master ignored theanimal’s fretful desire to be off anddallied with tobacco and paper,fashioning a cigarette, lighting it, breathingthin smoke as his gray eyes squintedappraisingly at the scene below.

Winding down into the foothills, instriking contrast to the dim trails higherup, was a well-used road. It evidently ledfrom the saffron-tinted dump and graybuildings of a mine which showed on theside of a big, bald mountain to southward.At a point almost directly below the ridgewhere the man and horse stood, it crosseda small hogback and descended a steep

slope between lines of jack pines,disappearing in the timber farther down.

The gaze of the man on the ridge wasconcentrated on the bit of road whichshowed on the hogback and the slopebeyond. A truck was laboriously climbingthe ascent. But the watcher evidently wasnot so much concerned with the approachof the truck as with certain movementswhich were in progress on the hogback atthe head of the grade.

Three persons had dismounted from theirhorses behind the screen of timber. One, atall man, had donned a long, black slickerand was tying a handkerchief about hisface.

“Juniper, hoss,” said Rathburn, “whatdoes that gent want that slicker on for? It

ain’t going to rain. An’ how does hereckon to see onless maybe he’s got holescut in that there hanky?”

A second man had made his way down theslope a short distance. He took advantageof the timber which screened him fromsight of the driver of the oncoming truck.

“I ’spect that’s in case the truck drivershould suddenly take it into his head toslide down backwards,” said theobserver, speaking his thoughts aloud in amusical, bass voice. “One in front, onebehind; now how about the kid?”

As if in answer to his question the thirdmember of the party, evidently a boy, ledthe horses a short way up the hogbackwhere a good view could be obtained ofthe road in both directions.

The watcher grunted in approval. “One infront to do the stick-up, one behind to stopa retreat and get whatever it is they’reafter, and one on the lookout to see thereain’t any unexpected guests. Couldn’t haveplanned the lay any better ourselves,hoss.”

He was too far distant to interfere, even ifhe had had any desire to do so, which wasdoubtful from his interested and tolerantmanner. Anyway it could have done nogood to shout a warning, for the driver ofthe truck could not have heard anythingabove the roar of his machine, and the triohad gone about the preparations withdispatch. Already the truck was climbingthe last steep pitch to the top of thehogback.

The tall man in the black slicker and masknow quickly stepped forth from the edgeof the timber. The watcher above saw hisright hand and arm whip out level with hisshoulders. There was a glint of morningsunlight and dull metal. The truck came toa jarring stop as the driver jammed on thebrakes. Then the driver’s hands went intothe air.

Stepping from the timber at the roadsidebehind the truck, the second man leapedupon the machine. The watcher gruntedagain as he saw that this man was alsomasked. The driver was disarmed andsearched, then forced to clamber downfrom the truck into the road, where theman in the slicker kept him covered whilethe other quickly searched about the seat

and cab of the truck. Then the second manreleased the brakes and dropped nimblyfrom the machine which plungedbackward down the steep slope, crashedinto the tree growth on one side of theroad, and overturned.

The boy mounted and led the other twohorses down the hogback in the scantytimber to the head of the grade. There theman in the slicker and his companionjoined him, mounted, and the trio rodequickly along the hogback in a southerlydirection and disappeared on a blind railinto the forest.

Rathburn rolled himself another cigarettewith a grin as he watched the truck driverstand for some moments uncertainly in theroad and then start rapidly down the slope

toward his disabled machine.

“C’mon, hoss,” said the erstwhilespectator, turning his dun-colored mountagain into the trail. “So far’s I can makeout, this is the only way down out of thesetall mountains to the east, so we might aswell get going. We ain’t got no businesssouth or west. We’ll be just in time to getblamed for what’s happened down there.”

Whatever there might be in the prospect,the rider did not permit it to have anyinfluence on his cheerful mood. He drewin long breaths of the stimulating air andsniffed joyously at the fragrance of themurmuring forests which clothed thehigher hills. Far below the timber woulddwindle, the ridges would flatten intoround knolls and lose their verdure; then

would come the dust and lava slopes, andbeyond––the desert.

A wistful light came into the horseman’seyes. “Home, Juniper, hoss,” he saidsoftly. “We’ve just got to have cactus an’water holes an’ danged blistering heat inours; and I don’t care so much as the fadedlabel off an empty tomato can if it’s inCalifornia, or Arizona, or Nevada, so longas it’s desert!”

The trail he was following woundtortuously around ridges, through thetimber, into ravines and cañons; nowtreading close upon the bank of a swift-running mountain stream in a narrowvalley, and again seeking the higher placeswhere there were rocks and fallen treesand other obstructions. An observer

would have gleaned at once that the riderwas not familiar with the trail or territoryhe traversed.

So it was past noon when he finallyreached the hogback where the outstandingevent of the morning had taken place. Therider looked back up toward the divideand grinned as he rested his horse justabove the scene of the holdup.

“Don’t reckon they’d have heard me if I’dhollered, or seen me if I’d waved,” hemused. “They picked out a good spot forthe dirty work,” he concluded, lookingabout.

Shortly afterward, as he was staring downat the tracks in the road, he smothered anexclamation. Then he dismounted, pickedup two small objects from the dust at the

point where the trio had started on theirget-away, examined them with a puzzledexpression, and thrust them into a pocket.

“Queer,” he ruminated; “mighty queer. Ifthose silly things had been laying there inthe road before the rumpus they’d havebeen tracked into the dust. But they was ontop of a perfectly good hoss track. An’ itdon’t look like there’s been anybody alonghere since.”

He continued down the road, descendingthe steep slope, and came to theoverturned truck. At a glance he saw ithad been used for hauling supplies,doubtless to the mine he had glimpsed onthe slope of the high mountain tosouthward. Several kegs of nails, somehardware, and some sacks of cement were

scattered in the road. He remembered thatthe man who had climbed on the truck hadonly searched the driver and the cab.Anything he might have taken must havebeen in a small package or it would havebeen discernible even at that longdistance.

“That outfit wasn’t after no minesupplies,” Rathburn reflected as hefinished his brief inspection and againmounted. “An’ they wasn’t taking anychances on smoking anybody up or beingfollowed too quick. Pretty work allaround. An’ here’s the committee, hoss!”

A touring car came careening around aturn in the road and raced toward him. Heturned his horse to the side of the road andspoke to him as the animal, plainly

unfamiliar with motor cars, snorted andshied.

The car drew to a stop with a screechingof brakes. The horseman raised his handsas he saw two rifles leveled at him fromthe rear seat. There were five men in thecar besides the driver. One of the men,who had been sitting in the front with thedriver, leaped from the machine andstrode toward the rider.

“Calm that horse down an’ climb out ofthat saddle,” he commanded. “If you makeany motions toward that gun you’repacking, it’ll make things simpler, in away.”

The rider slipped from the saddle with abroad grin. “Right up to form,” he sangcheerfully, although he kept his hands

elevated while the other took his gun. “Myhoss’ll be calm enough now that thatdanged thing is shut off. You must be asheriff to be flirting with the speed limitthat way an’ forgetting you’ve got a horn.”

“Where are you from an’ where was yougoing?” demanded the other.

“I’m from up in the mountains, but I’dnever got where I was going if I hadn’tseen you first the way you busted aroundthat curve,” was the cool reply.

“Stranger,” was the next comment in atone of satisfaction. “Look here, friend,I’m Mannix, deputy from High Point.You’ll sail smoother if you answer myquestions straight.”

The deputy motioned to two men in the

car. “Search him,” he ordered. Then hestood back, six-shooter in hand.

The stranger built a cigarette while themen were going through him. He lightedthe weed and smiled quizzically whilethey examined the meager contents of theslicker pack on the rear of his saddle.

“See you’re packing a black slicker,” saidMannix, pointing to the rough raincoat inwhich the pack was wrapped.

“That’s in case of rain,” was the readyanswer.

“What’s your name?” asked the deputywith a frown.

“Rathburn.”

“Where was you heading?”

“I was aiming in a general easterndirection,” Rathburn replied in a drawl.“Is there any law against ridin’ hosses inthis here part of the country?”

“Not at all,” replied the deputy heartily.“An’ there’s no law against drivin’automobiles or trucks. But there’s a lawagainst stoppin’ ’em with a gun.”

“So,” said Rathburn. “You stoppedbecause you saw my gun? An’ I’m toblame, for it? If I’d known you weretouchy about guns down here I’d haveworn mine in my shirt.”

One of the other men from the car hadjoined the deputy. He was looking atRathburn keenly. Mannix turned to him.

“Look like him?” he asked.

The man nodded. “About the same sizeand height.”

“This man was drivin’ a truck up here thatwas stopped this morning,” said thedeputy sternly to Rathburn. “He says yousize up to one of the men that turned thetrick––one of them that wore a blackslicker like yours.”

Rathburn nodded pleasantly. “Exactly,” hesaid with a smile. “I happen to be in thecountry an’ I’ve got a black slicker. Thereyou are; everything all proved up. An’ yetthere was somebody once told me it tookbrains to be a sheriff!”

There was a glint in Rathburn’s eyes as heuttered the last sentence.

Instead of flying into a rage, Mannix

laughed.

“Don’t kid yourself,” he said grimly.“You’re not the man who held up thistruck driver.”

He gave Rathburn back his gun, to thelatter’s surprise. Then he waved towardRathburn’s horse.

“Go ahead,” he said, smiling. “Generaleastern direction, wasn’t it? This roadwill take you clean to the desert, if youwant to go that far. So long.”

He led the others back to the car whichstarted off with a roar. It passed the truckand continued on up the road.

Rathburn sat his horse and watched theautomobile out of sight. His expressionwas one of deep perplexity.

“By all the rules of the game that fellowshould have held me as a suspect,” hesoliloquized. “Now he don’t know mefrom a hoss thief––or does he?”

He frowned and rode thoughtfully downthe road in the direction from which theautomobile had come.

CHAPTER XV

THE WELCOME

The afternoon wore on as Rathburnfollowed the road at an easy jog. Hequickened his pace somewhat when hepassed through aisles in thick timber, and,despite his careless attitude in the saddle,he kept a sharp lookout at all times. ForRathburn was carrying some gold andbills in a belt under his shirt––which hadbeen examined and returned to him at theorder of the deputy––and he had nointention of being waylaid. Moreover, theman’s natural bearing was one of constant

alertness. He rode for more than twohours without seeing any one.

“Strange,” he observed aloud. “This roadis used a lot, too. Maybe the morning’sceremonies has scared all the travelersinto the brush.”

But, as he turned the next bend in the road,he saw a small cabin in a little clearing tothe right.

Spurred by a desire to obtain some much-needed information, he turned from theroad into the clearing and rode up to thecabin. He doffed his broad-brimmed hat inhaste as he saw a girl.

“Ma’am, I’m a stranger in these woodsan’ I’m looking for an honest man orwoman to guide me on my way,” he said

with a flashing smile.

Instead of returning his smile with agracious word of greeting, the girlregarded him gravely out of glowing, darkeyes.

“Pretty!” he thought to himself. “Limpinglizards, but she’s pretty!”

“Where are you from?” the girl askedsoberly.

“From yonder mountains, an’ then some,”he answered with a sweeping gesture.

“You rode down this morning?”

“I rode down this morning. Down from thetoppermost top of the divide with the windsinging in my whiskers an’ the birdswarbling in my ears.” He laughed gayly,

for he appreciated her puzzled look. “Iwas wondering two things,” he continuedsolemnly.

“What might they be?” she askeddoubtfully.

“First: Why isn’t there more travel on thisgood road?” he said. “I haven’t seen asoul except yourself and a––a party in anautomobile. Now on a road like this–––”

“Where did you meet the automobile?”she asked in a voice which he interpretedas eager.

“Two hours an’ some minutes back––andup. Near a truck which had had sometrouble in the road. Perhaps you heardabout it? Turned over on its side incollapse after some free-thinking gents

turned their smoke wagons toward it.”

It was plain she was interested.

“Did––is the automobile still there?” sheinquired with a breathless catch in hervoice.

“Oh, no. After some of the passengers hadhad a little disrespectful conversationwith me, it went on up the road. Are theyscarce around here, ma’am––automobiles?”

“Not exactly,” she replied with a frown.“They truck ore and men and supplies toand from the mine every day. The reasonyou’ve seen so few people to-day isbecause it’s Sunday.”

“Thank you,” he said gallantly. “Thatanswers my first question. You remember,

I was wondering two things?”

Her lips trembled with a smile, but hereyes flashed with suspicion.

“You will observe, ma’am, that I am notfollowed by any pack horses or heavily-laden burros,” he went on gravely,although his eyes sparkled with goodhumor. “Nor is there anything much tospeak of in this slicker pack on my saddle.I need some new smoking tobacco, somenew shaving soap, some new hair cut, abath, a dinner, and a bed––after I’ve putup my hoss.”

This time the girl laughed, and Rathburnwas rewarded by the flashing gleam oftwo rows of pearls and eyes merry withmirth. But her reciprocating mood ofcheerfulness was quickly spent.

“You are only a mile and a half from HighPoint,” she said hurriedly. “You can getwhat you want there.”

She retreated into the doorway, andRathburn saw that the chance interviewwas at an end.

“Gracias, as they say in the desertcountry,” he said, saluting as he turnedaway. “It means thanks, ma’am.”

He looked back as he touched the mustangwith his steel and saw her looking afterhim with a strange look in her eyes.

“That gal looks half like she was scared,hoss,” he reflected. “I wonder, now, if shegot me wrong. Dang it! Maybe she thoughtI was trying to flirt with her. Well, maybeI was.”

He thrust a hand in a pocket and fingeredthe two objects he had picked up in theroad at the scene of the holdup. Then hepulled his hat a bit forward over his eyesand increased his pace. The town, as hehad half expected, came suddenly intosight around a sharp bend in the road.

High Point consisted of some two-scorestructures, and only a cursory glance wasneeded to ascertain that it was the sourceof supplies and rendez-vous forentertainment of the several mines and allthe miners and prospectors in theneighboring hills. Several fairly goodroads and many trails led into it, and fromit there was a main road of travel to therailroad on the edge of the desert in theeast.

Before he entered the dusty, single street,lined with small buildings flaunting falsefronts, Rathburn recognized the signs of afoothill town where the hand of authorityrested but lightly.

He rode directly to the first hotel, the onlytwo-story structure in town, and around tothe rear where he put up his horse and lefthis saddle, chaps and slicker pack in thecare of the barn man.

He received instructions as to the locationof the best barber shop and speedilywended his way there. He found Sundaywas not observed in the barber shop, norin the resort which adjoined it.

“Any chance to get a bath here?” he askedone of the two barbers with a twinkle inhis gray eyes.

He expected a snort of astonishment and asarcastic reply.

“Sure. Want it first or after?”

Rathburn eyed the barber suspiciously.Was the man poking fun at him? Well, hewas not a stranger to repartee.

“First or after what?” he asked, scowling.

“Your shave and hair cut.”

Rathburn laughed. “I’ll take it first––if youhave it. An’ if you have, I’ll say this is afirst-class barber shop.”

The barber led the way to a room in therear of the place with a pleased grin.

An hour or so later Rathburn, with thelower part of his face a shade paler thanthe upper half, his dark hair showing

neatly under his broad-brimmed hat, hisblack riding boots glistening, and asatisfied smile on his face, sauntered outof the barber shop into the resort nextdoor.

A man was lighting the hanging lamps, andRathburn looked about through a haze oftobacco smoke at a cluster of crowdedgaming tables, a short bar, cigar counter,and at the motley throng which jammed thesmall room.

He grinned as he read the sign over thecash register:

FREE DRINKS TO-MORROW

“Swiped in broad daylight from the grandold State of Texas,” he murmured aloud tohimself.

Then he noticed a small restaurant in therear of the place, separated from the mainroom by a partition, the upper part ofwhich was glass.

He made his way back, passed through thedoor, and took a seat at the counter whichafforded him a view of the resort throughthe glass. He ordered a substantial mealand, while waiting for it to be served,studied with calculating eyes the scene inthe next room.

The men were mostly of the hills––minersconstituting the majority. Of professionalgamblers there were many, and there wasalso a plentiful sprinkling of thatdespicable species known as “boosters”whose business it is to sit in at the gamesin the interest of “the house;” to fleece the

victims who occupy the few remainingseats.

But now he saw a man who apparentlywas not a miner, or a prospector, nor yet amember of the professional gamblingtribe. This was a tall man, very dark,sinewy. He wore a gun.

At first Rathburn thought he might be acow-puncher, for he wore riding boots,and had something of the air and bearingof a cowman; but he finally decided thatthis classification was inaccurate. Anofficer at one of the mines, perhaps; aforest ranger––no, he didn’t wear theregalia of a ranger––Rathburn gave it upas his dinner was put before him on thecounter.

He fell to his meal eagerly, for he had had

nothing to eat since early morning when hehad broken camp high in the mountains towestward. Steak and French “fries” beganquickly to disappear, along with manyslices of bread and two cups of steamingcoffee. Then Rathburn looked up, and tohis surprise saw that the tall, dark manwas standing near the glass, studying himintently out of scowling, black eyes.

Rathburn looked at him coolly andsteadily for a few moments and resumedhis meal. But the other was inquisitive andRathburn sensed, without again lookingup, that he was being watched. Was thisman, then, an aide of Mannix, the deputy?He doubted it.

He finished his meal, paid his score withan added cheery word for the counter

jumper, rose, entered the main room of theresort, and walked directly up to the darkman who still was observing him.

“Was you thinking I was an oldacquaintance of yours?” he askedpleasantly.

The other’s eyes narrowed, and Rathburnthought he detected a glow of recognitionand satisfaction.

“Did you have your bath?” sneeringlyinquired the man.

Rathburn’s brows lifted. Then he smiledqueerly. “I sure did. Why? Did I maybekeep you waiting? Was you next?”

The other’s eyes blazed with wrath. “Letme give you a tip, my friend; you ain’tright well acquainted in this here locality,

are you?”

Rathburn now noted that they had attractedimmediate attention. The tall, dark man,then, was a personage of importance. Henoted another thing, too––rather, herealized it by instinct as well as by certainmannerisms. The man before him knewhow to use the weapon which hung low onhis right thigh.

“If you mean was I born here, or do I livehere, I’d say no,” Rathburn drawled; “butI happen to be here at this precise time soI’d say I’m right well acquainted with it.”

A hush had come over the place.Interested faces were turned in theirdirection, and Rathburn sensed anominous tremor of keen expectancy. Thefine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes

tightened a bit.

“This is a poor time for strangers to behanging around,” said the dark man in aloud voice. “The Dixie Queen pay-rollhas been taking wings too often.”

The implication and the murmur from thespectators was not lost upon Rathburn.His lips tightened into a fine, white line.

“Whoever you are, you’ve got more mouththan brains!” he said crisply in a voicewhich carried over the room.

The effect of his words was electric.There was a sharp intaking of breath fromthe spectators. The dark man’s face froze,and his eyes darted red. His right handseemed to hang on the instant for theswoop to his gun. Rathburn appeared to be

smiling queerly out of his eyes. Then camea sharp interruption.

“Just a minute, Carlisle!”

Rathburn recognized the voice of Mannix,and a moment later the deputy steppedbetween them.

“What’s the idea?” he asked coolly.

“This gentleman you just called Carlisleseems to have appointed himself areception committee to welcome me intothe enterprising town of High Point,”drawled Rathburn, with a laugh.

Mannix turned on Carlisle with a scowl,and Carlisle shrugged impatiently, hiseyes still glaring balefully at Rathburn.

The deputy again confronted Rathburn.

“Had your supper?” he asked.

“Best steak I’ve had in two months,”Rathburn replied cheerfully.

“Horse taken care of?”

“First thing.” There was a note of derisionin Rathburn’s tone. “Service at the hotelbarn is high grade.”

Mannix’s eyes hardened before he spokeagain. He hesitated, but when his wordscame they were clear-cut and stern.

“Then come with me an’ I’ll show youwhere to sleep.”

“You mean in jail?” queried Rathburn.

Mannix nodded coldly.

“Sheriff,” said Rathburn, in a peculiar

tone, addressing the deputy but lookingover his shoulder directly into Carlisle’seyes; “if there’s one thing I’m noted for,it’s for being a good guesser!”

CHAPTER XVI

THE DIXIE’S BOSS

If Mannix expected any resistance fromRathburn he soon found that none was tomaterialize. The deputy, a short, ratherstout man of perhaps thirty-nine, withbronzed features, clear, brown eyes, and aprotruding jaw covered with a stubble ofreddish-brown beard, was neverthelesswary of his prisoner. He had not yetobtained Rathburn’s gun, and herecognized the unmistakable signs of aseasoned gunman in the lounging butgraceful postures of his prisoner, in the

way he moved his right hand, in thealertness of his eye. He frowned, forRathburn was smiling. There was aquality to that smile which was not lostupon the doughty officer.

“I take it you’ve got sense enough to comealong easylike,” he said, with just a hint ofdoubt in his voice.

“Yes, I’ve been known to show somesense, sheriff; now that’s a fact.”

“I’ll have to ask you for your gun,” saidthe deputy grimly.

“I’ve never been known to hand over mygun, sheriff,” drawled Rathburn. “Nowthat’s another fact.”

Again the tension in the room was high.Others than Mannix, and probably

Carlisle, had readily discerned in thegray-eyed stranger a certain menacingprowess which is much respected whereweapons are the rule in unexpectedemergencies. The crowd backed to thewall.

The deputy wet his lips, and his face grewa shade paler. Then suddenly he went forhis gun, as Rathburn dropped, like a shot,to the floor. There came the crack ofCarlisle’s pistol and a laugh fromRathburn. The deputy, gun in hand, staredat Rathburn who rose quickly to his feet.Then he thought to cover him. Rathburnraised his hands while Carlisle returnedhis own smoking weapon to its holster.Mannix turned and glared at Carlisle inperplexity.

“I don’t know what his game is, Mannix;but he could have drawn down on you in awink and shot you in your tracks if he’dwanted to,” said Carlisle.

“So you were taking the play in your ownhands,” Mannix accused.

The deputy looked at Rathburn angrily.Then he advanced and took the prisoner’ssix-shooter from him. He broughthandcuffs out of his pockets.

Rathburn’s face went white. “If whatCarlisle says is true, it doesn’t look as if Iwas trying to get away, does it, sheriff?”he asked coldly.

Mannix was thoughtful for a moment.“Well, come along,” he ordered, thrustingthe steel bracelets back into his pocket.

“I’ll go with you,” Carlisle volunteered.

“That’s up to you,” snapped out thedeputy. “I ain’t asking you to.”

The trio left the place as the spectatorsgazed after them in wonder. There was ahum of excited conversation as the deputyand his prisoner and Carlisle passedthrough the door.

No word was spoken on the way to thesmall, two-room, one-story structurewhich served as a detention place forpersons under arrest until they could betransferred to the county jail in the townwhere the railroad touched. Pettyoffenders served their sentences there,however.

In the little front office of the jail,

Rathburn looked with interest at someposters on the walls. One in particularclaimed his attention, and he read it twicewhile the deputy was getting some keysand calling to the jailer, who evidentlywas on the other side of the barred doorwhere the few cells and the “tank” were.

This is what Rathburn read:

REWARDTwo thousand dollars will be paid for thecapture of the bandits who are responsiblefor the robberies of Dixie Mine messengersin the last few months.

Dixie Milling & Mining Co.,George Sautee, Manager.

Rathburn now knew exactly what Carlislehad meant when he had referred to theDixie pay-roll taking wings. He had,

however, suspected it. The holdup of thetruck driver also was explained. Rathburnsmiled. It was a peculiar ruse for themines manager to resort to. Could not thepay-roll be sent to the mines under armedguard? Rathburn’s eyes were dreamywhen he looked at the deputy.

“All right, in you go,” said Mannix, as thejailer unlocked the heavy, barred doorfrom the inside.

He led Rathburn to one of the single cells,of which there were six on one side of thejail room proper.

“Maybe you’ll be ready to talk in themorning,” he said, as he locked hisprisoner in.

“Morning might be too late,” Rathburn

observed, taking tobacco and papers fromhis shirt pocket.

“What do you mean by that?” Mannixasked sharply.

“I might change my mind.”

“About talking, eh? Well, we’ll find away to make you change it back again.”

“You’re a grateful cuss,” said Rathburn,grinning.

Mannix scowled. It was plain he was notsure of his man, although he was trying toconvince himself that he was.

“I don’t get you,” he said growlingly.

“No? Didn’t you hear that fellow Carlislesay I saved your life by not drawing?”

“He’d have got you if you’d tried to draw.That’s what he thought you was going todo. You saved your skin by grabbing thefloor.”

Rathburn wet the paper of his cigaretteand sealed the end. “I’m wondering,” hemused, as he snapped a match into flame,with a thumb nail and lit the weed.

“It’s about time,” said the deputy grimly.

“I’m wondering,” said Rathburn, in a softvoice, exhaling a thin streamer of smoke,“if he’d have got me.”

Mannix grunted, looked at him curiously,and then turned abruptly on his heel andleft. Rathburn could not see the door, buthe heard the big key grate in the lock, andthen the jail room echoed to the clang of

hard metal and the door swung shut again.

Rathburn sat down on the bunk which wasto serve as his bed. He smoked his brown-paper cigarette slowly and with greatrelish while he stared, not through the barsto where the dim light of a lamp showed,but straight at the opposite steel wall ofhis cell. His eyes were thoughtful, dreamy,his brow was puckered.

“An’ there’s that,” he muttered as he threwaway the stub of his smoke and began toroll another. “Somebody’s been playingthe Dixie Queen for a meal ticket. Thatsign said ‘robberies.’ That means more’none. The truck driver was the last. Twothousand reward. An’ me headed for thedesert where I belong. What stopped me?I reckon I know.”

He smiled grimly as he remembered theinsolent challenge in Carlisle’s eyes andthe reference to the bath.

After a time Rathburn stretched out on thebunk, pulled his hat over his face, anddozed.

He sat up with a catlike movement as apersistent tapping on the bars of his cellreached his ears. Blinking in the half lighthe saw Carlisle’s dark features.

“Well, now’s your chance to smoke me upgood an’ plenty an’ get away with it,” saidRathburn cheerfully. “I’m shy my gunwhich the sheriff has borrowed.”

“You figure he’s just borrowed it?”sneeringly inquired Carlisle.

Rathburn rose and surveyed his visitor. “I

reckon I’ve got to tolerate you,” hedrawled. “I can’t pick my company inhere.”

“I’ve got your number,” snarlingly repliedCarlisle in a low voice.

Rathburn sauntered close to the bars,rolling a cigarette.

“If you have, Carlisle, you’ve got awinning number,” he said evenly.

“Whatever your play is here, I dunno,”said Carlisle; “but you won’t get awaywith it as easy as you did over the range inDry Lake.”

Rathburn’s eyes never flickered as hecoolly lit his cigarette with a steady hand.“You’re plumb full of information, eh,Carlisle?”

“I was over there an’ heard about how youstuck up that joint an’ tried to blame it onsome kid by the name of Lamy,” saidCarlisle, watching Rathburn closely.

“You sure that was the way of it?” askedRathburn casually.

“No,” replied the other. “I know the kidstuck up the joint an’ you took the blame tokeep him under cover. I don’t know yourreasons, but I guess you don’t want thefacts known. You broke jail. They ain’tforgot that over in Dry Lake. There’s areward out for you over there, an Iwouldn’t be surprised if there was somemoney on your head in Arizona, Coyote!”

Rathburn’s eyes were points of redbetween narrowed lids.

“The Coyote!” said Carlisle in a hoarsevoice of triumph. “An’ the way it looksI’m the only one hereabouts that knows it.”

“I told you you was plumb full ofinformation,” said Rathburn.

“The Coyote has a bit of a record, they tellme,” Carlisle leered. “There’s more’n onesheriff would pay a pretty price to get himsafe, eh?”

“Just what’s your idea in telling me allthis, Carlisle; why don’t you tell what youknow to Mannix, say?”

“Maybe I’m just teasing you along.”

“Not a chance, Carlisle. I know yourbreed.”

The other’s face darkened, and his eyes

glittered as he peered in through the bars.

“ W h a t ’ s your breed?” he askedsneeringly.

“I don’t have to tell you that, Carlisle.You know!” said Rathburn with a tauntinglaugh.

Carlisle struggled with his anger for abrief spell. Then he shrugged hisshoulders.

“I ain’t going to poke at you in a cage,” hesaid in a more civil tone; “an’ I ain’t goingto tell anybody what I know. Rememberthat.”

“I ain’t the forgetting kind,” Rathburnflung after him as he walked swiftly away.

Again Rathburn sat on the edge of the bunk

and smoked and thought. After a time hewent to sleep. The opening of his celldoor woke him. It was Mannix.

“Come to let me out, sheriff?” inquiredRathburn sleepily.

The deputy looked at him keenly, openedthe cage, and motioned to him to follow.Rathburn went with him out into the littleoffice. It was broad day. Mannix pickedup a pistol from his desk and extended itto Rathburn.

“Here’s your gun, Rathburn. You can go,”he said, pressing his lips close together.

“Well, now, sheriff, that’s right kind ofyou,” Rathburn drawled, concealing hisastonishment.

“Don’t thank me,” snapped out Mannix.

“This gentleman asked me to set youloose.”

For the first time Rathburn lookedsquarely at the other man in the office––athin man, with a cropped mustache, beadyeyes, and a narrow face.

The man was regarding him intently, andthere seemed to be an amused expressionin his eyes. He turned away fromRathburn’s gaze.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasureof meeting the gentleman,” said Rathburnagreeably.

“That’s George Sautee, manager of theDixie Queen,” said the deputy with ashrug.

CHAPTER XVII

A COMMISSION

Sautee rose and extended his hand with anaffable smile. “Will you come to breakfastwith me, Mr. Rathburn?”

Rathburn took the hand with a curious sideglance at Mannix. “I’m powerful hungry,”he confessed; “an’ I don’t reckon I’d beshowing the best of manners if I balked athavin’ breakfast with the man that got meout of jail.”

“Quite right,” admitted Sautee, winking atthe deputy. “Well, perhaps I have myreasons. All right, Rathburn, let’s be

going.”

They walked out of the jail, and as theyprogressed up the street they were thecynosure of many wondering pairs ofeyes; for the report had spread that thestranger who had been jailed was thebandit who had made away with the DixieQueen pay-roll on several occasions, andthat he was a gun fighter and a killer.

They entered a restaurant just below thehotel, and Sautee led the way to a boothwhere they were assured comparativeprivacy.

“Ham an’ eggs,” said Rathburn shortlywhen the waiter entered.

Sautee smiled again. He was covertlyinspecting the man across the table from

him and evidently what he saw caused himto arrive at a satisfactory conclusion.

He gave his order with a nod and a mildflourish of the hand, indicating that hewould take the same.

“Oh––waiter,” called Rathburn. “Foureggs with mine.”

Sautee laughed. It was a peculiar laugh inthat it seemed to convey little mirth. It wasperfunctory.

He gazed at Rathburn quizzically. “Theytell me you’re a gunman,” he said in a lowvoice.

Rathburn’s brows shot up. “They? Who’sthey?”

Sautee waved a hand impatiently. “I am

the manager of the Dixie Queen. I havebeen around a bit, and I have eyes. I cansee. I know the signals. I witnessed theplay in the Red Feather last night.”

“That ain’t a bad name for the place,”Rathburn mused.

“Just what do you suppose was my objectin getting you out of jail?” Sautee askedseriously, leaning over the table andlooking at Rathburn searchingly. “Yousaid last night you were a good guesser.”

“But I didn’t say I was good at riddles,”drawled Rathburn.

Sautee leaned back. For a moment therewas a gleam of admiration in his eyes.Then they narrowed slightly.

“The Dixie Queen has been robbed four

times within the last year,” he saidsoberly. “That represents considerablemoney. Yesterday I resorted to a ruse andsent the money up with a truck driver, butwhoever is doing this thing must have gotwise somehow, for the truck driver washeld up, as you know, and the moneytaken.”

“Why not put an armed guard on thattruck?” asked Rathburn with a yawn.

“I had full confidence in that ruse, and Iknew the man who drove the truck couldbe trusted. Besides, he didn’t know whatwas inside the package.”

“How much did they get?” asked Rathburnsharply.

“Twenty-two thousand eight hundred and

seventy dollars in cash.”

Rathburn stared at the mine manager andwhistled softly. “What’s the sense insending it up there at all?” he askedsuddenly. “Why not pay off down here intown?”

Sautee sighed with an air of resignation.“That’s been argued several times,” hecomplained. “The men demand their payin cash. They want it at the mine, for morethan half of them have refused to comedown here for it. It is twenty-nine miles upthere to the mine, and it would take all thetrucks we’ve got and two days to bringthem down here and take them back.Besides, if we got them down here itwould be a week before we could get halfof them back up there and at work again.”

“But why won’t they take checks?”Rathburn demanded.

“It would be the same proposition,”Sautee explained. “There is a little villageup there––pool room, soft-drink parlor,lunch room, store, and all that––and themen, or a large number of them, wouldwant their checks cashed to makepurchases and for spending money, and thecash would have to be transported so thebusiness places could cash the checks.Then, there’s another reason. All themines over on this side of the mountains,clear down into the desert, have alwayspaid in cash. This is an old district, andthe matter of getting paid in cash hasbecome a tradition. That’s what thecompany is up against. We can refuse to

do it, but all the other mines do it, and theDixie Queen would soon have thereputation of being the only mine in thedistrict that didn’t pay in cash. Thetradition is handed down from the olddays when men were paid in gold. Therewas a time when a miner wouldn’t takepaper money in this country!”

The waiter entered with the breakfastdishes and they began to eat.

“Your mine owned by a stock company?”Rathburn inquired.

“Certainly,” replied Sautee. “All themines here are. What mine isn’t?”

Rathburn ignored the question.“Stockholders live aroun’ here?” heasked, between mouthfuls.

“Oh––no, that is, not many,” repliedSautee with a quick glance at hisquestioner. “This district is pretty wellworked out. Most of our stockholders livein the Middle West and the East.” Hewinked at Rathburn.

“Any other mines been robbed?” Rathburnpersisted.

“No, that’s the funny part of it. Still––no,i t isn’t funny. We’re working on thelargest scale, and our pay-roll is,naturally, the largest. It furnishes thebiggest incentive. In addition, the DixieQueen is the farthest out from town, andthere are many excellent spots for aholdup between town and the mine. Oh,don’t look skeptical. I’ve tried trustedmessengers by roundabout trails, and

guards and all that. They even held up aconvoy on one occasion. I’ve set traps.I’ve done everything. But now I’ve a newidea, and I believe it’ll work.”

He finished his breakfast and staredsteadily at Rathburn who didn’t look up,but leisurely drank a second cup of coffee.Sautee noted the slim, tapered right handof the man across the table from him, theclear, gray eyes, the unmistakable poise ofa man who is absolutely and utterlyconfident and sure of himself. The minemanager’s eyes glowed eagerly.

“Yes?” asked Rathburn calmly.

“I’m going to hire, or, rather, I’m going totry to hire a man I believe is just as tough,just as clever, just as quick with his gun asthe men who’ve been robbing the Dixie

Queen. I’m going to hire him to carry themoney to the mine!”

“So that’s why you got me out of jail,”said Rathburn, drawing the inevitabletobacco and papers from his shirt pocket.

“Yes!” whispered Sautee eagerly. “I wantyou for the job!”

“You ain’t forgetting that I was suspectedof that last job, are you? That’s why Iwent to jail, I reckon.”

“You didn’t have to go to jail unless youwanted to. You didn’t have to stop in thistown and invite arrest. Mannix let you goup there yesterday because he felt sure hecould get you when he wanted you again,and he figured you’d make some break thatwould give him a clew to your pals, if you

had any. You went to jail because youknew he didn’t have anything on you.”

Sautee grinned in triumph.

“How do you know I won’t beat it withthe money?” asked Rathburn.

“I don’t,” said Sautee quickly. “But I’mtaking a chance on it that you won’t. Idon’t care who you are, what you arenow, or what you’ve been; I don’t care ifyou’re an outlaw! I figure, Rathburn, thatif I come out square and trust you with thismission and depend upon you to carry itout, that you’ll play square with me.That’s what I’m banking on––your ownsense of squareness. You’ve got it, for Ican see it in your eyes.”

“Who’s Carlisle?” Rathburn asked dryly.

Sautee frowned. “He’s a––well, I guessyou’d call him a sort of adventurer. I knewhim down in Arizona. He follows thecamps when they’re good, and this onehappens to be good right now, for we’reimproving the property. That’s how hehappened to come up here about a yearago. Then, when the first robberyoccurred, I engaged him as a sort ofspecial agent. He didn’t make anyprogress, so I let him go. Since then he’sbeen out and in, gambling, prospecting,anything––he’s a fast man with his gun,and he has some claims here which he isdeveloping on a small scale and trying tosell.”

Rathburn nodded but made no comment.

“Will you take the job?” Sautee asked

anxiously.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to carry a sum of money to themine. I’m not going to tell you how much,but it will be considerable. The moneywhich was stolen yesterday was for thepay-off to-day. I’ve got to get the cash forthe men up there quick. They all knowabout the holdup, so there’s nogrumbling––yet. But there will be if theydon’t have their money pretty quick. Wewant to pay off to-morrow. I could gowith a guard, but to tell you the truth,Rathburn, it’s got to a point where I can’ttrust a soul.”

“Why not Mannix?” asked Rathburnsharply.

Sautee shook his head; his beady, blackeyes glowed, and he stroked his chin.

“There’s another sorrowful point,” heexplained. “I tell you we’re up against ithere, Rathburn. The Dixie Queen peopleand most of the other mines are fightingthe present county administration as amatter of policy. They want certainchanges, and––well, keep this toyourself––privileges. Mannix has beeninstructed by the sheriff of this county thath e is not here to act as a guard for theDixie Queen. See?”

Rathburn frowned and built anothercigarette.

“If you’ll carry this package of money upto the Dixie Queen for me, Rathburn, I’llpay you five hundred dollars. Then, if you

want to stay and act as our messenger rightalong, we’ll make a deal. But I’d like tohave you do this this time––make this onetrip, anyway, I mean. They may try to stopyou. If they do I don’t believe they can getaway with it. I’m banking on your abilityto get through, and I think the propositionwill appeal to you in a sporting way if forno other reason. Will you do it?” Sautee’seyes were eager.

“Yes,” said Rathburn shortly, tossingaway his cigarette.

Sautee held out his hand. “Go to the hoteland engage a room,” he instructed. “Be inyour room at nine o’clock to-night. Do nottell any one of our deal. I’ll get your roomnumber from the register. I’ll bring thepackage of money to you between nine

o’clock and midnight. Now, Rathburn,maybe I’m mistaken in you; but I go awhole lot by what I see in a man’s eyes.You may have a hard record, but I’mstaking my faith in men on you!”

“I’ll be there,” Rathburn promised.

He left Sautee at the entrance to therestaurant and strolled around the hotelbarn to see that his horse was being takencare of properly. He found that the barnman was indeed looking after the dun inexcellent shape. Rathburn spent a shorttime with his mount, petting him andrubbing his glossy coat with his hands.Then he took his slicker pack and startedfor the hotel.

As he reached the street he saw a girl on ahorse talking with a man on the sidewalk.

The girl was leaning over, and the manevidently was delivering a harangue. Hewas gesticulating wildly, and Rathburncould see that the girl was cowering. Hepaused on the hotel porch as the manstepped away from the horse and lookedhis way. He recognized Carlisle.

Then the girl rode down the street andRathburn started with surprise as he sawshe was the girl from the cabin up the roadwho had directed him to town the daybefore. He remembered the two objects hehad picked up in the road after the holdupand felt in his pocket to make sure theywere there. Then he entered the hotel.

“Have you a room?” he asked the clerkpleasantly.

“Yes. More rooms than anything else to-

day since the Sunday crowd’s gone.”

Rathburn wrote his name upon theregister.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN THE NIGHT

Rathburn avoided the Red Feather resortduring the morning. Instead of walkingabout the streets or sitting in the hotellobby or his room, he cultivated theacquaintance of the barn man, and becausehe knew horses––all about horses––hesoon had the man’s attention and respect.

Although Rathburn suspected that healready had a reputation in the town, hedid not know that Carlisle was steadilyadding to that reputation through themedium of veiled hints dropped here and

there until a majority of the populationwas convinced that a desperate man wasin their midst, and that Mannix hadpermitted him to go free for certain secretreasons.

Thus a web of mystery and suspicion wascleverly woven about Rathburn’smovements.

It was not until afternoon, however, thatRathburn began to realize on his intimacywith the barn man. Then they began to talkof trails, and for more than an hour thebarn man, caught in the spell of Rathburn’spersonality, divulged the secret of thetrails leading to and from the Dixie Queen.

“The best trail, an’ the straightest, if youshould ever want to go up there an’ look atthe mine like you say,” said the barn man,

“hits into the timber behind the first cabinto the left above town.”

Rathburn nodded smilingly. It was thecabin where he had first seen the girl.

“It’s ’bout twenty-nine miles to the mineby the road,” the man explained; “but thattrail will take you there in less’n twenty.Well, maybe twenty or twenty-one. Or youcan go up the road till you get to the bighogback––that’s where they held up thetruck driver yesterday––and cut straight upthe hill from the south end.”

“I guess those are the best trails from whatyou say,” was Rathburn’s yawningcomment.

“Them’s the best,” the other added.“There’s another trail going out below

town that follows southeast along a bigridge, but that trail’s as far as the road.When you goin’ up?”

“I dunno,” replied Rathburnnoncommittally. “Say, I guess I knowwhere that cabin is on the left side of theroad going up. I stopped at a cabin upthere coming down an’ asked a gal howfar it was to town–––”

“That’s it,” said the barn man. “That’s theone. Trail starts right back of that cabin.”

Rathburn yawned again. “Smart-lookin’gal,” he observed, digging for his tobaccoand papers. “Who is she?”

“That’s Joe Carlisle’s sister. Anyway, hesays she is. There’s been some talk.Carlisle lives there when he ain’t out in

the hills or on a gamblin’ trip to someother town.”

“I see. Well, old-timer, I ain’t hung on thefeed bag since morning, an’ I’m going on astill hunt for some grub.”

Rathburn went to the Red Feather for hisdinner. He was thoughtful through the mealand kept an eye out for Carlisle, but didn’tsee him. During the remainder of theafternoon he hung about the Red Featherand other resorts, but did not see Carlisle.

That evening, as he was returning to thehotel, he met Mannix. The deputy lookedat him with a scowl in which there was amixture of curiosity. Rathburn suddenlyremembered what Sautee had said abouthis company being on the outs with thecounty administration. If such was the

case, Rathburn reflected, how did it comethat Sautee had been able to effect hisrelease so easily?

He stopped as he drew alongside of thedeputy. “This man Sautee,” he drawled,looking Mannix square in the eye; “hemust have a good drag with the countyseat, eh?”

The deputy’s scowl deepened. “He didn’tget you out by word of mouth alone,” hesaid sharply. “I haven’t got anything onyou, Rathburn––yet.”

Rathburn smiled. “I reckon you’re asheriff after my own heart,” he saidenigmatically, and moved on.

Mannix looked back after him for amoment, then continued on his way.

Rathburn had dinner that night at the hotel,and it was during the course of a numberof pleasantries with the waitress, whothought he was looking for work, that heascertained that Sautee had a little two-room building at the lower end of thestreet, the front half of which served as anoffice and the rear half as living quarters.

At nine o’clock he went to his room. Helighted the oil lamp, pulled down thewindow shade, sat down in a chair to oneside of the door to wait. An hour passedwith no sound save occasional footfalls inthe hall and the drone of the wind in thetrees outside.

Another hour had nearly been consumed inwaiting when Rathburn heard some onecoming up the stairs. The footfalls were

soft, catlike. He could hardly hear them,and it was this fact which made himinstantly alert. The footfalls now soundedin the hallway. They were nearer hisroom. He rose; stepped close to the sideof the door. Then came a soft knock.

Rathburn suddenly opened the door, andSautee started back, blinking his eyes. Themines manager peered about the room,then entered swiftly.

“You rather startled me,” he accused witha forced smile.

Rathburn closed the door softly and turnedthe key in the lock.

“I’m just taking natural precautions,” heexplained.

Sautee shook his head and put a finger to

his lips. “Not so loud,” he warned. “Thesewalls”––he waved a hand about––“are allears.”

He took a package from beneath his coatand handed it to Rathburn. “Put it in yourshirt,” he instructed. “Deliver it to theoffice at the mine and take thebookkeeper’s receipt. Then report to myoffice here in town. I wish you luck, and Iwant you to know that I have the utmostconfidence in you.”

“You keep such large sums on hand all thetime?” Rathburn asked, putting thepackage in his shirt. He was mindful of thefact that a similar sum had been stolen theday before from the truck driver.

“There’s a private bank here,” answeredSautee frowningly. “He let me have it, but

he’s already sent to the county seat formore cash which will come by autoexpress to-morrow, probably. Anyway,the bank’ll get most of this back, so theircash won’t be short long.”

Rathburn nodded. “Let’s see,” hesuggested. “There was a little item of fivehundred between us for my serving––am Iright?”

“There is such an item,” snapped outSautee; “when you’ve delivered.”

“Of course,” replied Rathburn. “I couldn’texpect to be paid in advance. I’m todeliver the money at the mine and reportto you for the five hundred.”

“Exactly,” said Sautee. “Which way youfigure on going up?” he asked curiously.

“Don’t know much about the trails,”Rathburn answered. “An’ it mightn’tattract suspicion if I just struck right out onthe road.”

Sautee shrugged. “Well, that’s up to you,”he said. “Keep your eye peeled. I don’tthink any one knows I drew that moneyfrom the bank, but I didn’t think any oneknew I stuck that package under the truckdriver’s seat, either.”

He turned toward the door.

“There’s just one other little matter,” saidRathburn softly. “You see nobody knowsanything about this deal but you an’ me.Maybe it would be best for my ownprotection that you scribbled something ona piece of paper to show what ourarrangement is.”

Sautee scowled again, hesitated, thensmiled. He drew an envelope from apocket, extracted its contents, tore it openat each end, and wrote on the blank side:

Due Rathburn five hundred dollars when hehas delivered package intrusted to him by meat the Dixie Queen mine office.George Sautee.

Rathburn nodded in satisfaction as he tookthe slip of paper and tucked it into hisshirt pocket. The wording of the note wasa bit complicated, but it bore Sautee’ssignature. It was at least evidence thatthere had been an agreement.

“Everything set?” asked Sautee.

“All cinched up an’ ready to go,” repliedRathburn.

“How soon you going to start?” askedSautee as he unlocked the door.

“By midnight,” Rathburn answered.

Sautee held out his hand before he slippedout of the door and was gone.

Rathburn quickly busied himself with hisslicker pack. He took out a gun which hechanged for the gun in his holster. Then hestuck his regular gun into his waistband onthe left. He took out the package andexamined it. It was sealed at each end.Then Rathburn did a queer thing. He cutthe string and paper near the seals andremoved the small box within. He nextemptied the box of its paper-wrappedcontents and substituted the first thing ofequal weight which he could lay his handson––a moleskin glove which was among

the things in the slicker pack. He replacedthe box in its wrappings and drew fromone of his pockets a small bottle of glue.

“First time I ever stole anything from ahotel desk,” he muttered to himself as heglued the paper back into place; “but Isure had the proper hunch when I grabbedthis.”

Next he retied the string, adding a piecefrom his slicker pack to offset theshortness where it had been cut. When hehad finished the package looked exactly asit had in the first place. It would take aclose inspection to learn that it had beentampered with. The original contents ofthe package he thrust into his hat andpulled the hat well down on his head.

Then he extinguished the light and made

his way downstairs and out the lobby intothe street. He went quickly around to thebarn where he astonished the man incharge by saddling his horse and ridingout without a word of explanation otherthan to toss him a five-dollar bill from thesaddle.

“See you again to-morrow––maybe,” hecalled, grinning, as he rode into the night.

When Rathburn had passed behind thehotel and several other buildings on thesame side of the street and gained the roadleading westward toward the hogback, aslim shadow darted out of the trees,mounted a horse concealed some distancebehind the barn, and slipped into a worntrail which nearly paralleled the roadgoing west.

CHAPTER XIX

QUICK TURNS

As he rode westward along the road at aswinging lope, Rathburn made no apparenteffort to conceal his movements. The nightsky was bright with stars, and, althoughthe moon was not up, the road was clearlyoutlined through the marching stands oftimber as he swung upward past the cabinwhere he had met the girl said to beCarlisle’s sister.

Rathburn could not forget the look on thegirl’s face when she had asked him aboutthe activities of the officer in the

automobile. Nor could he forget theexpression in her eyes during heraltercation with Carlisle that day.

After he had passed the cabin, Rathburnchecked his pace and proceeded moreslowly up the long stretches of road to thehogback. On the hogback he began to takeadvantage of the screen of timber on thelower side of the road, and to ride morecautiously. However, to any one whomight have been watching, his movementsstill would have been easily discernible,and it would have appeared that he wasn’tquite sure of himself. Twice he turned offat what he appeared to think was thebeginning of a trail, and both times heagain turned back to the road.

Then, as he reached the south end of the

hogback where the trail left the road andcut straight across to the mine, twohorsemen broke from the timber, andRathburn reined in his horse as the gunswhich covered him glinted.

The taller of the pair of night riders kepthim covered with two guns while the otherrode in close and jerked the weapon fromhis holster.

“C’mon with the package!” said this manin a hoarse voice. “We won’t take achance on you. If you make any kind of abreak you’ll get it where it’ll do mostgood.”

There was a sneering inflection in thevoice.

Rathburn’s hand, as it moved downward

toward his shirt, hovered an instant abovewhere his good gun was stuck in hiswaistband, out of sight under the skirt ofhis coat; then it moved to the open shirt athis throat. He drew out the package andheld it out toward the other.

The man closed in and snatched thepackage, glancing at it in the dim starlight.

“Now back the way you came an’ don’tinvite no shootin’!” was the briefcommand.

Rathburn whirled his horse and drove inhis spurs. As he fled from the scene aharsh laugh came to his ears from behind.Then utter silence save for the pounding ofhis horse’s hoofs in the hard road backdown the hogback.

“Jog along, hoss,” Rathburn crooned as hesped down the long slopes toward town;“maybe we’re peggin’ things wrong, an’ ifit turns out that way we’ve a powerfullong ways to go.”

It lacked a few minutes of being two hoursafter midnight when he reached theCarlisle cabin. There he reined in hishorse, dismounted in the shadow of thetimber, and crept to a window. The moonhad risen and was bathing the hills in aghostly light in which every object stoodout clear-cut and easily distinguishable.Rathburn peered into the two frontwindows, but could see nothing. Then,from a side window into which themoonlight filtered, he made out abedroom. It was not occupied. From the

other side of the cabin he saw anotherbedroom, and it, too, was unoccupied.

“Nobody home,” he muttered cheerfully ashe ran for his horse.

In another minute he was again speedingdown the road toward town. He slackedhis pace as he reached the upper end ofthe short main street. The street was darksave for two beams of yellow light, one ofwhich shone from a window of the jailoffice and the other from the front of theRed Feather resort.

He walked his horse down the street pastthe jail and the resort and almost to theend of the line of buildings where hearrived before the small, one-story, two-room structure which was Sautee’s officeand abode.

The place was dark. Rathburn dismountedand led his horse into the dark shadow atthe side of the little building. Then hewent around to the front, and, drawing hisgun from his waistband, he rapped smartlyon the door with its butt and dropped itinto his holster.

There was no movement within, andRathburn rapped again and tried the door.It was locked.

A match flared into flame somewherebeyond the front room. A glow of lightfollowed. Rathburn, looking through thefront window, saw a door open wide andmade out the form of Sautee as the minesmanager came forward to the front door.

“Who is it?” Sautee called cautiously.

“Rathburn.”

After a moment a key turned in the lockand the door opened part way. Rathburnpushed his way in.

“Why––didn’t you go?” asked Sautee inexcited tones.

“Lock the door an’ come in the otherroom,” whispered Rathburn. “I’ve gotsomething to tell you that’ll knock you fora goal.”

Sautee hurriedly locked the door, and, ashe turned to lead the way into the otherroom, Rathburn deftly extracted the key.

In the light from the lamp in the bedroomSautee swung on his visitor and looked athim keenly. The mines manager was fullydressed, and the bed was made. It was

evident that he had merely dozed on top ofthe covers with his clothes on. Thesethings Rathburn noted even as Sauteesurveyed him with a frown.

“Well, what is it?” snapped out Sautee.

Rathburn blinked in the light. “I––I washeld up,” he said sheepishly.

The mines manager stared. First he staredinto Rathburn’s eyes, and then he glancedto the gun in the holster on his thigh.

“Couldn’t have been very much afraid ofyou,” he said sneeringly. “I see they didn’teven take your gun.”

“It all come from my not knowin’ enoughabout the trails, I guess,” Rathburnexplained lamely. “Got me on the far endof the hogback. Two of ’em. Had their

guns in my face before I knew it. Couldn’thave drawed if I wanted to. They’d haveshot me out of the saddle in a wink. All Icould do was hand over the package an’beat it.”

“And they said you were a gunman,” saidSautee in derision. “How do I knowanybody stopped you and robbed you?Maybe you’ve come back here with thatstory to cover up the theft of the money. Iguess I made a mistake in ever thinking oftrusting a man of your caliber.”

“I was afraid of that,” said Rathburn. “Iwas afraid if anything like this was tohappen you might think I was lying andwas taking the money myself. But I fooled’em, Mr. Sautee,” he finished in triumph.

“What’s that?” Sautee asked sharply.

“Look here,” cried Rathburn excitedly ashe took off his hat and recovered thepackage he had put in it before startingtoward the mine.

He held up the package. “I was scaredthey might get wise an’ get the drop onme,” he said. “So I opened the packagean’ took out what was in it and put it in myhat. They got the original package, allright, but it was stuffed with an old gloveof mine. Here’s the money. I didn’t goright on to the mine for fear they’d find outtheir mistake an’ pot me from the timber.This is the money you gave me, minus theseals an’ the string an’ box. I wanted youto see that I was on the square.”

Sautee’s eyes were bulging. “Give methat,” he gulped out.

“Why––don’t you want me to take it to themine?” asked Rathburn in surprise.

“Hand that over,” ordered Sautee,reaching for the package.

Rathburn drew away. “All right, Mr.Sautee,” he said in a complaining voice.“If you don’t want me to go through withthe job you can back down, I guess. We’lljust make sure the money’s here, though.”

Sautee leaped toward him.

“Give me that package!” he cried angrily.“Do you hear me?”

Rathburn warded him off, keeping thepackage at arm’s length away.

“Just hold your horses,” he said coldly. “Ireckon I know what I’m doing. You don’t

trust me now, an’ I ain’t goin’ to take anychances with you. I’m goin’ to open thisan’ show you that the money’s there, that’sall; I’m goin’ to show you that I’m givingyou back what you gave me all fair an’square.”

Sautee’s face was ashen. His voicetrembled as he spoke again: “Hand it overand get out of here. I’ve had enoughtrouble with you. I’ll take your word forit.”

But Rathburn was undoing the paperwrappings.

Again Sautee made a leap, but this time hemet Rathburn’s left fist and staggeredback, dropping into a chair. Rathburnlooked at him coldly.

“Funny you’re so anxious to take my wordfor things now, when a minute ago yousaid you couldn’t know but what I’d toldthat holdup story for a blind so’s I couldget away with––this!”

The wrappings fell away, revealing a wadof blank paper.

Rathburn’s face froze. Sautee staredwhite-faced at what the other held in hishand. Then a peculiar glint came into hiseyes and he looked at Rathburn narrowly.

“So that’s the way of it,” he saidsarcastically.

Rathburn stuffed the paper into a pocket.Then he pulled a chair in front of themines manager and sat down. He took outpaper and tobacco from his shirt pocket

and began to fashion a cigarette.

“It sure looks bad for me, doesn’t it, Mr.Sautee?” he asked as he snapped a matchinto flame.

“I thought you were going to return themoney,” Sautee said sneeringly.

“It looks bad two ways,” Rathburn wenton as if he hadn’t heard the other’scomment. “First, if that package theholdups got had contained the money youcould have swore it was a put-up job. I’dhave had to beat it fast. Now, when I findthat the package you gave to me was fullof blank paper, you can say that I framedthe holdup story and changed the moneyfor paper in the bargain.”

Sautee’s eyes were glowing. “An’ you’ll

have to beat it, after all,” he jeered.

“So it would seem,” mused Rathburn. “Ifooled ’em, an’ to all appearances Ifooled myself, although maybe I did take apeep into that package when I changed itin my room, Mr. Sautee.”

The mines manager shifted in his chair;but he stared defiantly at Rathburn.

“You’d have a hard time provinganything,” he said grimly.

“That’s the trouble,” Rathburn admitted.“I’d sort of have to depend on you. I wasthinkin’ maybe you double crossed me tomake ’em think I was carrying the moneywhile you sneaked it up some other way,Mr. Sautee.”

“You can think what you want to,” said

Sautee. “But you better start moving. If Iwas you, I’d get as far away from thistown and Mannix as I could by daylight.”

Rathburn’s manner underwent a lightningchange as he threw away his partlyfinished cigarette.

“You’re right,” he said crisply. “It’s timeto start moving, Sautee.”

He rose, and his right hand movedincredibly fast. Sautee gasped as helooked into the bore of Rathburn’s gun. Hecould hardly realize that Rathburn haddrawn.

“I fooled the night riders twice,”explained Rathburn with a peculiar smile.“First, when I let ’em get the wrongpackage, an’ again when I let ’em get the

wrong gun. This gun an’ I work togetherlike clock ticks when necessary. I’ll haveto ask you to fork over the money that youdrew from the bank an’ that should havebeen in that package, Sautee.”

Rathburn’s eyes had narrowed andhardened; his words were cold andmenacing––deadly in their absolutesincerity.

“What––what do you mean?” stammeredthe mines manager.

“I take it you’re not deaf,” snapped outRathburn. “Maybe you don’t know it,Sautee, but so help me, you’re takin’ achance by acting like you didn’t get me.”

Sautee’s thin face was twitching in aspasm of commingled rage and fear.

“The Coyote!” he breathed.

“Who told you that?” demanded Rathburnon the instant.

Sautee gripped the sides of his chair, andhis face went a shade more pallid.

“Carlisle,” he confessed in a strainedvoice.

Rathburn laughed, and the mines managershivered as he heard.

“Now, Sautee, we’ll quit beatin’ aroundthe bush,” Rathburn said through his teeth.“We’ll get down to business together, orI’ll begin to search your place here. But ifI have to search, I’ll search alone. Thereain’t so much chance of a shot bein’ heardway up the street; an’ there ain’t muchchance of me bein’ caught on that hoss of

mine if I don’t want to get caught. Also,I’m beginning to feel like I was in a hurry.Fork over that money!”

Sautee looked just an instant longer intothe eyes of the man towering over him.Then he rose, shaking, dry-lipped, andknelt down by the head of the bed. Helifted a piece of the carpet, opened a smalltrapdoor, reached inside, and brought outa bundle of bank notes. Rathburn took themoney from him.

Sautee still was kneeling as he heardRathburn walk lightly to the front door andinsert the key in the lock. He tried to cryout, but the effort resulted only in a croakin his throat. He heard the door closesoftly.

“The Coyote!” he mumbled, passing a

hand across his forehead.

The echoes of galloping hoofs came tohim as he scrambled to his feet andstaggered toward the door.

CHAPTER XX

APPEAL TO THE LAW

For some moments Sautee stood in thedarkened doorway staring up the moonlitstreet. The echoes of Rathburn’s flight haddied away. The town was still. Sautee didnot cry out, although he had recovered aconsiderable measure of his composure.He listened intently and finally gruntedwith satisfaction.

“Up the road,” he muttered. “That meanshe is making for the pass over themountains.”

He walked hurriedly through his office

into the living room. There he stood for aspell beside the table on which burned thelamp. His brows were knit into a heavyfrown. He seemed debating a question inhis mind. He tapped with nervous fingerson the table top.

“Pshaw,” he said aloud, his facedarkening. “He’s an outlaw.”

He put on his coat and dropped anautomatic pistol into a side pocket. Afteranother moment of hesitation he blew outthe light and walked quickly out of theplace, locking the door after him.

He hurried up the street to the jail. Hefound the jailer dozing in the little frontoffice and did not attempt to disturb him.From the jail he hurried another shortdistance up the street and turned in at a

little house located some distance backfrom the sidewalk. He knocked loudly onthe door, and after a brief wait repeatedthe performance.

A light showed, and the front dooropened. Mannix, the deputy, looked out.

“Let me in,” said Sautee briefly. “There’sbeen another robbery.”

Mannix swung the door wide and steppedaside. He wore an ulster over his nightclothes, and his bare feet were thrust intoslippers. He scowled at the minesmanager as he shut the door.

“More of the company’s money gone?” heasked with a touch of sarcasm in hisvoice.

Sautee nodded. “Some twenty-odd

thousand,” he said soberly; “and I believethe man that got it is responsible for theholdups that have been pulled off aroundhere.”

“Who got it?” Mannix asked quickly.

“Rathburn,” Sautee announced.

Mannix smiled in undisgusted contempt.“Your own fault,” he pointed out.“Wouldn’t give me a chance toinvestigate. Said you had a scheme thatwould show him up one way or the other.Wouldn’t let me in on it, an’ I was foolenough to let you have a try, although Idon’t believe I could have held himanyhow.”

“Just it,” said Sautee. “Wouldn’t havedone any good to keep him in jail, and I

thought I had a two-way scheme thatwould either show him up, as you say, orget me an excellent messenger. I intrustedRathburn with a package to carry to themines office. He’s a gunman, a desperado,probably a killer, and I thought it wouldappeal to him to be put in a place of trust.If he fell down––then I figured you’d beable to get him like you said you could.”

Mannix snorted. “After tryin’ a foolscheme you want to shift the business onmy shoulders, eh? Well, Sautee, you’venever shown much confidence in myability, an’ you don’t have to show anynow. It looks to me as if the finishing ofthis play is all up to you.”

“Oh, no, it isn’t,” said Sautee confidently.“You’ll be most mighty glad to take out

after him.”

“Suppose you wait an’ see how quick Istart,” Mannix retorted angrily. “What’sthe matter? Didn’t he carry out yourorders? I suppose you gave him a bundleof money to make off with. Sautee, Ibelieve you’re a fool!”

The mines manager winced and thenfrowned. “I gave him the money to carryto the mine,” he confessed withoutflinching. “He came back with a storyabout being held up, and when he saw thatI didn’t believe him and intended to turnhim back to you, he pulled a gun on meand made his get-away. He lit out throughtown for the road to the hogback and thepass over the mountains.”

Mannix laughed harshly. “You’re clever,

Sautee; there’s no getting away from howclever you are. Now you want me to gochasing up to the hogback to head him off.Well, I’m tellin’ you that I don’t knowwhere he’s gone, an’ I ain’t starting outafter him at any two o’clock in themorning. If you’d have kept your nose outof this he’d still be all safe an’ quiet injail. That’s final, so you might as wellclear out an’ give me a chance to get somesleep.”

Sautee merely smiled after this speechfrom the disgusted deputy.

“Since I intrusted Rathburn with that jobI’ve found out something about him whichtakes the case out of my hands entirely,”he said with a smirk. “I don’t care if youdon’t start after him till day after to-

morrow. But if your chief––the sheriff––finds out that you didn’t hit the trail to-night he’ll likely ask you for your badge!”

“Are you threatening me?” Mannixdemanded loudly.

“No, I’m only stating facts,” Sauteereplied stoutly. “That man who callshimself Rathburn is The Coyote!”

Mannix didn’t start. He appeared hardlyinterested. Only the keen, penetratingquality of the steady gaze he directed atthe mines manager betrayed the fact thathis faculties were aroused.

“The Coyote hit back for Arizona afterthat deal he was mixed up in over in DryLake, across the range,” he said withconviction.

“Oh, he did?” Sautee sneered openly.“Well, you had him in jail last night, andyou can probably get him again, if youstart right out after him.”

“What makes you think this fellowRathburn is The Coyote?” demandedMannix.

“Carlisle knows him by sight, and he toldme.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” the deputyasked sternly.

“Because Carlisle didn’t tell me until afterI told him what I’d done,” Sautee evaded.“Then I didn’t have the––ah––nerve,under the circumstances, to come to youwith the news. At that, I thought he mightgo through with it.”

Mannix swore softly. “Giving a pay-rollmessenger’s job to a man who’s got aprice on his head a mile long!” heexclaimed savagely. “Why didn’t Carlislecome to me?”

Sautee shrugged. “I’m not responsible forCarlisle. Maybe he didn’t feel sure of it,and maybe he’s just naturally jealous ofThe Coyote and wants to bring him inhimself. Carlisle is a gunman, as youknow, and a good one.”

“I know it,” snapped out Mannix; “and Iknow both Carlisle an’ you are a pair ofbunglers. I guess you wanted to show meup, but you’ve gone about it in a way thatwon’t get you anything nor hurt me, I’llsee to that.”

Sautee smiled as the deputy hurried out of

the room.

In a few minutes Mannix returned fullydressed and carrying a rifle. The deputy’sface was severe, and his eyes burned withthe fire of the man hunt. He signaledimpatiently to the mine manager to followhim. As they walked across the littleporch and around to the rear of the housewhere Mannix kept his car the deputytalked fast.

“I’m goin’ up to the hogback. He ain’t hadstart enough to get up there yet on a horse,an’ I’ll beat him to it. It’ll be daylight inabout two hours, an’ I’ll be there tilldaylight. If you think you can do it, get outsome of the men an’ cover the trails to themine on horses. He might try to get overthat way. Then you better take your car

and go up to the mine by the road as fastas you can to tell ’em to be on the lookout.Watch out on the hogback, for I’ll be upthere, parked with my lights out.”

He had reached his small garage when hefinished giving his instructions, andSautee, with a promise to do as he hadbeen told as quickly as possible, ran downthe street toward the Red Feather, where alight still shone.

The news that The Coyote and Rathburnwere one and the same, and that he hadrobbed the mining company that night andwas probably responsible for the otherholdups, created an immediate sensationamong the few gamblers in the resort.Sautee added to the excitement by quotingrewards at random, and the forming of two

posses to comb the trails to the mine andbeyond was under way at once.

Sautee ran to his office and got out hissmall car. He stopped at the Red Featherand took one of the men from the minewith him. He stopped again when hereached the Carlisle cabin, pounded on thedoors, and looked in the windows. But theplace was deserted, and Sautee’s featureswere wreathed in perplexity as he wentback to his car.

“That’s queer,” he said as he climbed intohis seat.

“What’s that?” asked the man beside him.

But Sautee’s answer was drowned in theroar of the motor as he sped up the roadtoward the hogback and the mine.

CHAPTER XXI

A CAPTURE

When Rathburn rode away from Sautee’squarters he galloped up the street straightfor the road which led west out of town.He pulled his horse down to a trot whenhe reached the Carlisle cabin and madeanother brief inspection which showedthat the place was deserted. Then hestruck into the trail behind the cabin andbegan the ascent toward the Dixie Queen.

He rode slowly through the timber,depending upon his mount to keep to thedim trail, but in the open stretches in

meadows and on the crest of ridges wherethe timber thinned, he made better time.On this occasion one would not havenoted an attitude of uncertainty about hismanner or movements. He had paid strictattention to the barn man’s description ofthis trail, and he had determined generaldirections the day before. Rathburn wasnot a stranger to the art of following newtrails; nor was he the kind to becomeconfused in a locality with which he wasnot familiar unless he became absolutelylost. In this instance it would be a hardmatter to become lost, for the ridges rosesteadily upward toward the summits of thehigh mountains, the town was in thenarrow valley below, and the foothillsranged down to the desert in the east.

He was halfway to the mine when he sawthe gleam of an automobile’s lights in theroad far below.

“Sautee got busy right quick,” he saidaloud. “I ’spect they’re hustlin’ up to headme off at the hogback. They’re figuring I’dtry to go back the way I come in.”

He smiled grimly in the soft moonlight,and his gaze turned toward the east, wherethe stars glowed over the shadowyreaches of desert which he could not see,but the very thought of which stirredsomething in his soul.

Then he pushed on up the trail toward themine. For more than an hour he rode, andthen, when he came to the crest of a ridgejust below the Dixie Queen, he saw thelights of an automobile in the road to the

right of him.

“Now what?” he ejaculated. “They ain’tfigurin’ I’d come up here!”

He sat his horse with features againwreathed in perplexity. He scowled at theapproaching gleam of light. In thedirection of the hogback he could seenothing. Nor could he see the horsemenalready on the trail below him and on theridge trail to eastward.

The little mine village was directly belowhim. The few buildings huddled togetherbelow the big mine dump were dark. Themine buildings, too, were dark. A faintglow showed in the east––harbinger of thedawn.

The left side of the automobile was

toward him when it stopped in the littlestreet below. A man climbed out andwalked around in front of the car, andRathburn grunted in recognition as hemade out the familiar form of Sautee, themine manager.

He saw Sautee and another leave the carand walk toward a building at the lowerend of the street. He could see them fairlywell in the moonlight and realized that in acomparatively short time it would bedaylight. He turned his horse down theslope.

When he reached the rear of the fewbuildings which formed the miningvillage, catering to the wants of the DixieQueen workers, Rathburn edged along tothe lower end where he left his horse in

the shadow of a building directly acrossfrom the one which Sautee and hiscompanion had entered, and in thewindows of which a light now shone.

He stole across the street. Peering in oneof the windows he saw that the room wasan office. Sautee was standing before adesk, talking to another man. Rathburnquickly surmised that this man hadaccompanied Sautee from the town. Evenas he looked, Sautee finished his speechby striking a palm with his fist, and hiscompanion strode toward the door.

Rathburn darted around the side of thebuilding into the shadow as the man cameout and hurried up a wide road toward themine buildings above. Then Rathburn ranaround to the front of the building and

quietly opened the door.

Sautee had seated himself at the desk, andhe swung about in his chair as he heard thedoor open. He looked again into the blackbore of Rathburn’s gun. His eyes bulged,and this time they shone with genuineterror.

“It was sure in the pictures for us to meetagain, Sautee,” said Rathburn easily. “Ourbusiness wasn’t finished. We ain’t throughyet.”

“There isn’t any more money,” Sauteegasped out. “There’s no money up here atall.”

“Oh, yes, there is,” said Rathburn with amirthless smile. “There’s twenty-oddthousand dollars in my right-hand coat

pocket. Now I wonder what you’ve got inyours. It don’t stand to reason you’d startout this time without a gun. Stand up!”

Sautee rose. His face was ashen. He heldhis hands high as Rathburn pressed hisweapon against his chest and relieved himof the automatic which he carried.Rathburn felt his other pockets and thensmiled agreeably. He tossed the automaticon the desk.

“All right, we’ll get goin’,” he announced,indicating the open door. “We’ll have tohurry, for I take it you’ve sent forsomebody from the mine.”

“Where are we going?” asked Sauteewithout moving.

“We’re goin’ for a little mornin’ walk, ifyou act reasonable,” replied Rathburn.“That was my intention. But if you don’twant to go–––”

He shrugged, and as Sautee looked fixedlyat him, he cocked his gun.

Sautee hurried toward the door withRathburn following him closely. Whenthey were outside Rathburn directedSautee across the street. When theyreached Rathburn’s horse Rathburnquickly mounted and motioned to themines manager to precede him into thetimber behind the little village. When theygained the shelter of the timber theygradually circled around until they strucka trail which led up above the mine. Theystarted up this, Sautee leading the way onfoot with Rathburn following on his horseand keeping his gun trained on the minesmanager’s back.

“Don’t worry,” Rathburn crooned. “I

won’t shoot you in the back, Sautee. Thatwouldn’t be accordin’ to my ethics. ButI’d have to stop you if you made a break toleave the present company.”

Sautee plodded on, his breath coming ingasps, the perspiration standing out on hisforehead.

The trail joined with another well-wornpath a short distance above the mine. Theeastern sky now was light, and Rathburnsaw a stone building above them. He alsosaw that they were on the steep slope ofthe big mountain on which the DixieQueen was located, and that there was arift in this mountain to the left whichindicated the presence of a pass there.

In a few minutes they reached the stonebuilding. It had an iron door across which

was painted the legend:

DANGER POWDER––DYNAMITE KEEPAWAY

Rathburn dismounted and tossed the reinsover his horse’s head so the animal wouldstand.

“That place looks like a natural jail,” hecommented.

“It’s the mine’s powder house,” saidSautee, wiping his wet forehead.

“Sure,” Rathburn rejoined, “that’s justwhat it is. I expect there’s enough powderin there to blow half this mountain off.”

He walked to the door and took out hisgun as he examined the padlock.

“What are you going to do?” asked Sautee

excitedly.

“I’m goin’ to blow the lock off,” saidRathburn coolly.

“Don’t do it!” cried Sautee. “There’shigh-percentage dynamite in there and T NT caps that we use on road work––dozensof boxes of it. You might set it off!”

Rathburn looked at the quaking minemanager speculatively. “That’s right,” hesaid finally, turning aside to grin tohimself. “I guess any little jar might start itworkin’. It goes off easy, I’ve heard.”

“There are caps and detonators in there,too,” said Sautee quickly. “You mightshoot into them some way, you never cantell. Well, it would be as bad for you asfor me.” He uttered the last sentence in a

note of triumph.

Rathburn was looking at the far-flungview below. He turned a hard gaze onSautee. “What difference do you supposeit would make to me if that stuff in theregoes off?” he demanded in a harsh voice.“Look down there!”

Sautee looked and drew in his breath witha gasp.

In the clear light of the blossoming dawnthe whole panorama of the lower mountaincountry was spread out before them. Tothe left, under the towering peaks of thedivide, the rounded crest of the hogbackwas discernible, and a black spot markedthe location of Mannix’s automobile.

“There’s a car over there,” said Rathburn,

noting the direction of Sautee’s gaze.

Almost directly below them a number ofmounted men filed over a ridge and againdisappeared in the timber. Off to the rightmore horsemen were to be seen.

“Looks like there was a posse or two outthis morning,” said Rathburn in aforbidding voice. “I reckon I ain’t such afool as not to know who they’re lookin’for, Sautee. Now maybe you can figure outwhy I ain’t as scared of that powder houseas you are.”

“I can stop them!” cried Sautee in ashaking voice.

“Sure,” Rathburn agreed. “You can sayyou lied about me takin’ the money–––”

“I’ll tell ’em you gave it back!” said

Sautee hoarsely. “I’ll tell ’em you broughtit on up to the mine and that it’s in thesafe. I’ll square it–––”

“But you can’t square the rewards that areout for The Coyote,” said Rathburnsternly. “You’ve stepped into a biggergame than you thought, Sautee, an’ it’s gotplumb out of your hands.”

He turned on the mine manager fiercely.“Whatever happens, remember this: Oncea man gets a bad reputation in a countrylike this or the country I come from, he’sgot it for keeps. He can’t get away from itno matter how he acts or what he does.Mine has drove me away from the placewhere I belong; it’s followed me here; Ican’t lose it; an’ the way things has beengoing, by glory, I don’t know if I want to

lose it!”

Sautee cowered back under the fiercenessin Rathburn’s manner.

“An’ you can tell ’em, if you ever have achance to talk again, that I earned myreputation square! I ain’t involved nobodyelse, an’ I ain’t stole from any poorpeople, an’ I never threw my gun down ona man who didn’t start for his first.”

The deadly earnestness and the note ofregret in Rathburn’s tone caused Sautee toforget his uneasiness temporarily and stareat the man in wonder. Rathburn’s eyeswere narrowed, his gaze was steel blue,and his face was drawn into hard, grimlines as he looked out upon the far-flung,glorious vista below them, broken hereand there by the movement of mounted

men.

“Maybe I––I–––” Sautee faltered in hisspeech. His words seemed impotent in theface of Rathburn’s deadly seriousness.

Rathburn turned abruptly to the powderhouse door.

“Wait!” cried Sautee.

The mines manager dug frantically into hispockets and drew out a bunch of keys.

“There are some locks on this property towhich there are only two keys,” heexplained nervously. “This is one of them,and I carry the second key. Here!”

He held out the key ring with one keyextended.

Rathburn thrust his gun back into its

holster and took the keys. In a moment hehad unlocked the padlock and swung openthe iron door, exposing case after case ofhigh explosive within the stone structure.

Sautee was staring at him in direapprehension.

Rathburn pointed toward the rift in themountain on the left above them. Sauteelooked and saw a man and a boy ridingdown the trail.

“That looks to me like the man that heldme up last night,” said Rathburn. “Helooks like one of the men, anyway. Maybehe’s found out he didn’t get much, eh?Maybe he’s coming back because hedidn’t have enough to make a get-awaywith. Maybe he thinks he was doublecrossed or something.”

Sautee’s features were working in aspasm of fear and worry. Suddenly heturned on Rathburn.

“Why don’t you get away?” he asked ineager pleading. “That trail will take youout of the mountains and down into thedesert country. You’re from the desert,aren’t you? You can make it. You’ve madea good haul. Go! It’ll be better for me andall of us!”

Rathburn laughed bitterly. “I can’t gobecause I’m a worse fool than you are,”he said acridly. “Get in there. Sneakinglizards, man, can’t you see I’m tempted toput a shot into one of them boxes and blowus both to kingdom come?”

Sautee shrank back into the powder house,and Rathburn slammed the door.

As Rathburn snapped the padlock andthrust the keys into his pocket his eyesagain sought the trail to the left above him.No one was in sight. The man and the boyhad disappeared in a bend or depressionin the trail.

But when he looked down toward thehogback he saw a car coming up the roadtoward the mine. A number of horsemenhad taken its place on the hogback.

Rathburn ran for his horse.

CHAPTER XXII

A SECOND CAPTURE

Rathburn rode straight up the trail whichled from the powder house toward thepass over the big mountain. His eyes weregleaming with satisfaction, but severaltimes they clouded with doubt, and he feltthe bank notes in his coat pocket. Eachtime, however, he would shake his headand push on up the trail with renewedenergy.

Looking backward and downward, hecould see the posses gathering in the streetof the mine village. He sensed the

excitement which had followed the suddendisappearance of Sautee and smiledgrimly. He saw that the automobile fromthe hogback had reached the village.Scores of men were clustered about it. Heknew Mannix was taking personal chargeof the man hunt; but there was a chance toget away!

He looked wistfully eastward.Somewhere off there, beyond the rollingfoothills, was the desert. He thrilled. Ithad been there he had made his firstmistake. Goaded by the loss of his smallcattle ranch he had taken revenge on theman who had foreclosed on him andothers in a similar predicament. He hadheld up the bank and restored a smallmeasure of the losses. Even then the profit

of the unscrupulous money lender hadbeen enormous.

But the law had marked Rathburn. Thegunmen who were jealous of hisreputation as an expert at the draw hadforced him to fall back upon that draw toprotect his life. Thus he had been drivento obtain a living in the best way he could,and something in the dangerous, uncertainlife of the outlaw had appealed to his wildblood.

Sautee had said the money in his pocketwas a good haul. Why not? He lookedagain to eastward. Over the bigmountain––into the timber––a circlingback––a straight cut east–––

He knew he could do it. He had evadedposses before––posses composed of

trained men who were accustomed to takethe man trail. It would actually be raresport to play with the crowd below. Hisleft hand dropped idly into his coatpocket, and he started as he fingered whatwas there. Then his brow becamefurrowed, and he scowled.

“Maybe I ain’t such a good guesser afterall,” he muttered. “Maybe I’m just what Itold Sautee––a fool.”

He caught sight of a man and a boy abovehim. Another instant and they were lost toview.

Rathburn suddenly put the spurs to hishorse, and the dun surged up the steeptrail. As he rode, Rathburn took hisrawhide lariat from its place on thesaddle. At a point above where the trail

twisted about a huge outcropping of rockhe turned off, dismounted, and crept to thetop of the rocks. Quickly he surveyed thetrail above. Then he slipped back down tohis horse, got in the saddle, and took up aposition just at the lower end of theoutcropping, some little distance backfrom the trail and above it. He held thelariat ready in his hands.

He sat his horse quietly––listening. Thewind had died with the dawn, and therewas no sound in the hills. The sun wasmounting in the sky to eastward. Rathburnlooked out over the timbered slopesbelow with wistful eyes. Suddenly hisgaze became alert. The sound of horsesupon the rocky trail above the outcroppingcame to his ears.

Gradually the sound became more andmore distinct. He could hear the hoofs ofthe horses striking against the rock of thetrail. He shook out the noose of his rope,and it sang as it whirled in the air.

The head of a horse had hardly pushedpast the rock when Rathburn’s noose wentswirling downward and dropped true overits target. The man in the saddle loosed astring of curses as he felt the rawhidelariat tighten about his arms and chest. Hishorse shied, and he was dragged from thesaddle, landing on his feet, but fallinginstantly.

The second horse reared back, andRathburn’s gun covered the boy in thesaddle. Rathburn, keeping tight hold on therope hand over hand, and retaining his gun

in his right hand at the same time, randown the short pitch. The boy’s horsebecame still, and while the youth staredRathburn trussed up the first rider and thenstood off to look at him.

“Just takin’ a mornin’ ride, Carlisle?” heasked cheerfully. “Or did you forgetsomething? Don’t make any false moves,kid. I ain’t in a playful mood.”

The boy continued to stare, but Carlisle’sface was black with rage, and cursesflowed from his lips.

“That won’t get you anything,” Rathburnsaid coolly. “You might better be doin’some tall thinking instead of cussing. Youain’t got the cards stacked for this deal,Carlisle.”

“What’s your game?” Carlisle managed toget out.

“It’s a deep one,” Rathburn replied dryly.“An’ it’s too complicated to tell you now.I’m goin’ to give you a chance to do thethinking I mentioned a while back. I ain’ttakin’ your gun or your horse. The onlything I’m takin’ is a chance, an’ I ain’ttakin’ it on your account.”

For an instant Rathburn’s eyes burnedwith fury. Then he dragged Carlisle intothe shelter of the rocks, to the side of thetrail, and tied his horse near by. Mounting,he motioned to the boy to ride down thetrail ahead of him. He looked at the big hatand the overalls the boy wore. The youthlooked wildly about and then drove thespurs into his mount and dashed down the

trail with Rathburn close behind, callingto him to take it easy.

Just as they reached a spot directly abovethe powder house the boy reined in hishorse. Rathburn saw he was looking downat the turbulent scene in the street of thelittle village below the mine. Then the boyswayed in the saddle, and Rathburn hadjust time to fling himself to the ground andcatch the senseless form in his arms as ittoppled.

He put his burden down on the grassbeside the trail and led his horse into thetimber and tied him. Next he picked up theboy and made his way down to thepowder house. The shouts of many mencame to him from far below. Hesucceeded in getting out the keys and

unlocking the padlock which secured thedoor of the powder house. Then he openedthe door, covered the frightened minemanager with his gun, and carried hisburden in with one arm.

“One of the accomplices,” he said brieflyto Sautee, as he put the lad down andloosened the shirt at the throat. “He’llcome around in a minute.”

Sautee’s eyes were popping from hishead. He leaned back upon the cases ofdynamite and passed a clammy hand overhis brow.

“I’ve got Carlisle, too,” said Rathburn.“Takin’ it all around from under it ain’t abad morning’s haul.”

Sautee now stared at him with a new look

in his eyes––a look in which doubtstruggled with terror.

“I don’t believe you are The Coyote!” heblurted out.

“Who do you reckon I might be, if Iain’t?” Rathburn asked quietly.

“You might be some kind of a deputy orsomething.”

Rathburn laughed harshly. “It just happensI’m the man some folks call The Coyote,”he said. “I don’t like the name, but it waswished on me, an’ I can’t seem to shake itoff. If I wasn’t the man you think I am youwouldn’t be in such a tight fix, Sautee.”

Rathburn’s words conveyed a subtlemenace which was not lost on the minemanager. Sautee cringed and rubbed his

hands in his nervous tension.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Listen!” exclaimed Rathburn.

From below came the echoes of shoutsand other sounds which conveyed theintelligence that a large body of men wason the move up to the mine and themountain slope above.

“They’re after me,” said Rathburn bitterly.“They think I stole the pay-rolls. Theycan’t get me, Sautee––not alive. An’ ifthey get me the other way I’m goin’ to seeto it somehow that I don’t get blamed forthese jobs up here. Now, do you begin tosee daylight?”

Sautee wet his dry lips. The figure on thefloor stirred. The shouts from below

sounded more distinct.

Rathburn’s gun leaped into his hand. “Youbetter start hoping the shootin’ don’t begintill we understand each other, Sautee,” hesaid grimly. “We’ve come to the show-down!”

CHAPTER XXIII

QUICK FACTS

Disregarding the sounds which continuedto come from below, Rathburn stood, gunin hand, regarding Sautee with a grimcountenance and a cold look in his keen,gray eyes.

“I saw that truck driver held up, Sautee. Iwas on a ridge below the divide. I saw thetall man in the black slicker, his pardner,an’ the boy. I didn’t figure it would do anygood to tell Mannix I’d taken in the show,an’ I was on my way to the desert. I’d bethere now if Carlisle hadn’t overstepped

the mark in that Red Feather place.”

Sautee pricked up his ears. “You let themarrest you,” he said. “Why–––”

“Because I knew Mannix didn’t know whoI was an’ didn’t have anything on me,”said Rathburn quickly. “An’ I got peevishat Carlisle an’ plumb suspicious when hetried to make things look bad for me rightthere at the start. I began to wise up to thewhole lay when you got me out of jail.”

Sautee’s face went white again.

“Your fine explanations of why youcouldn’t get that money up to the minewere thin as water, Sautee. You could getthat money up there if you wanted to, an’when you asked me to carry the package tothe mine it was a dead out-an’-out give-

away. I reckon you didn’t play me to haveany sense, an’ I don’t think you gaveCarlisle credit for havin’ the brains of ajack rabbit, either.”

Rathburn laughed as the mine managerstared at mention of Carlisle’s nameagain.

“Don’t worry,” he said contemptuously. “Iknow it was Carlisle who held me up. Itake it he figured that you’d actually putmoney in that package. Wouldn’t besurprised if it was him that you got to trythat stunt. An’ he started away with thepackage as soon as he got it instead ofsneakin’ back home to split with you. Hedouble crossed you an’ you doublecrossed him an’ me. Now I’m doublecrossing the two of you.”

Sautee’s look had changed to one of anger.He glared at Rathburn, forgetting hispredicament.

“You’d have a fine time proving any ofthis nonsense,” he found the courage tosay.

“I’m not only goin’ to prove what I’vesaid so far, but I’m goin’ to prove thatthese robberies were a put-up jobbetween you an’ Carlisle, with somebodyhelping you,” said Rathburn. “I’ve been inthe mining game myself, Sautee, but in ourcountry men spend their lives huntingmetal to make some bunch of stockholdersrich. Maybe they get something out of itthemselves, an’ maybe they don’t; butthey’re square, an’ the men that run themines are square ’most always. Anyway

they develop properties, an’ that’s more’nyou’re doing. You’re not doing this campany good. You’re bleeding the mine an’the company, too.”

“And I suppose you––The Coyote––aretaking a hand in this business as a matterof principle,” sneeringly replied Sautee.

“I didn’t take a hand,” Rathburn pointedout sternly. “You an’ Carlisle forced ahand on me, an’ I’m goin’ to play it out.I’ve another reason, too,” he addedmysteriously.

“Did you say you had Carlisle?” Sauteeasked in feigned anxiety.

“I’ve got him dead to rights,” repliedRathburn shortly, taking some paper and apencil from a pocket.

Sautee looked at him curiously as hestarted to write on the paper. “Going towrite it all out and leave it?” he askedsneeringly.

“I’m going to put it outside the powderhouse in a place where Mannix or some ofthe others will be sure to find it,” was thepuzzling answer.

“I suppose they’ll believe it quicker if it’sin writing,” said Sautee bravely.

Rathburn finished writing, folded thepaper, and placed it in the left-handpocket of his coat. He carefully put awaythe pencil. His next act caused Sautee realconcern.

Using a drill which was there for thepurpose, evidently, Rathburn broke open a

box of dynamite caps and a box ofdynamite. A single coil of fuse was lyingon a box. He quickly affixed the cap to astick of the dynamite and crimped on atwo-foot length of fuse. Then he moved theopened box of dynamite to the doorwayand struck the stick with cap and fuseattached into it.

“There,” he said, evidently greatlysatisfied with his work. “That fuse willburn about two minutes–––” He paused.“That’s too long,” he concluded.

Perspiration again stood out on Sautee’sforehead as he watched Rathburn cut off afoot of the fuse.

“That’s better,” said Rathburn with aqueer smile. “That’ll burn about a minute.Time enough.”

Sautee stared in horrified fascination atthe foot of fuse which stuck straight outfrom the box of dynamite in the doorway.“What––what are you going to do?” hegasped out.

“Listen, Sautee,” said Rathburn coolly.“When that stick of powder explodes it’llset off the box an’ the other boxes, an’instead of a powder house here there’ll bea big hole in the side of the mountain.”

“Man––man––you’re not going todo––that!” Sautee’s words came in ahoarse whisper.

“I reckon that’s what I’m goin’ to have todo,” said Rathburn as he bent over theform on the floor of the powder house.

The boy’s eyes were open and were

staring into Rathburn’s.

Rathburn lifted him to his feet, where hestood unsteadily. Again the gun was inRathburn’s hand.

“This party is goin’ to leave us,” he saidto the frightened mine manager. “I’m goin’to step just outside for a minute. It’s yourchance to make a break, Sautee; but if youtry it I’ll send a bullet into that cap.Maybe you heard somewhere that I canshoot tolerably well,” he concluded in hisdrawl.

Sautee gripped the sides of the boxespiled behind him.

Rathburn led the boy outside and saidquickly: “Just what is this man Carlisle toyou?”

A look of fear, remorse, dejection––allcommingled and pleading––came into thedark eyes that looked up into his.

Rathburn didn’t wait for a verbal answer.

“Your horse is just up the trail a piece,”he said hurriedly. “Get up there––go upbehind the powder house, so the menbelow can’t see you. Swing off into thetimber to the left and get down out of here.I’ll keep their attention. Go home.”

He waited a moment until he saw that hisinstructions were being carried out, thenhe leaped again to the doorway of thepowder house.

Sautee’s face was livid, and his teethwere chattering. Rathburn took a matchfrom his shirt pocket.

“Stop!” screamed Sautee. “I’ll talk. Youwere right. It was a frame-up. I’ll telleverything––everything!”

The perspiration was streaming from hisface, and his voice shook with terror.

“You’ll have a chance to talk in less thana minute,” said Rathburn calmly.

A chorus of shouts came from the trail justbelow the powder house as a number ofmen came into view.

Rathburn stepped in front of the door withthe match in his left hand and his gun in hisright.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE SHOW-DOWN

A wild chorus of yells greeted him. Hehad surmised that the men had seen himcoming back down the trail to the powderhouse with his human burden. Now hecalled Sautee into view. They would mostnaturally assume that it was the minemanager he had been carrying.

“Come to the door where they can seeyou,” he called to Sautee.

The ring in his voice brought Sautee,white-faced and shivering, to the doorwaybeside Rathburn.

Another round of yells followed the minemanager’s appearance. Then there was asudden stillness. Rathburn saw that thecrowd was made up mostly of miners.They paused in the wide place in the trailjust below the powder house, and Mannixpushed to the fore.

“I want you, Coyote,” he called sternly.

“Now, don’t you think I know it?” repliedRathburn in a voice which carried to allthe members of the mob. “You don’t wantme for robbing this mine, Mannix; youwant me for something you don’t knowanything about––because I’ve got arecord. Wait a minute!”

He shot out the words as the mob pushed astep forward.

“If you fellows take a couple more stepsin this direction I’ll put a bullet into thisbox of dynamite!”

The movement stopped instantly. Menstared up at him breathlessly, for theyrealized that he meant what he said.

Mannix’s face was pale, but his eyesglowed with determination.

“Do you think it’s worth it, Coyote?” heasked.

“Step up here, Mannix, an’ listen to whatthis fellow has to say,” was Rathburn’sreply. “Men,” he called in a loud voice,“I’m lookin’ to you to give your mine bossan’ your deputy sheriff a fair deal.”

There was a murmur among the men.Mannix, after a moment of hesitation,

stepped forward.

Rathburn swung on Sautee. “Tell him!” hecommanded in a voice which stung likethe crack of a whip on still air.

“I––I had a hand in the business,” saidSautee frantically. “It was Carlisle andme. We––we framed the robberies.”

Mannix’s eyes narrowed.

“Tell him where I got that money lastnight,” Rathburn thundered. “Tell him,Sautee, or, so help me, I’ll drill a holethrough you!”

Sautee cowered before the deadly ferocityin Rathburn’s voice. “I had it in the––office––downtown,” he stammered.“There was blank paper in that package,Mannix. Let him go––let him go, Mannix,

or we’ll all be killed!” Sautee cried.

Rathburn was looking steadily at thedeputy. “Carlisle is roped an’ tied up thetrail by the big rocks,” he said. “Send upthere for him an’ bring him down here.”

Several of the men who were mountedspurred their horses up the steep trail.There was utter silence now among themen. Mannix, too, was cool and collected.He had not drawn his gun. He surveyedthe quaking Sautee with a look of extremecontempt. The mine manager’s nerves hadgone to pieces before Rathburn’smenacing personality. All he cared fornow was his life. The black reputation hehad given to Rathburn led him to believethat the man could not be depended upon,and that he was liable to carry out his

threat and blow them all to bits. He wethis lips with a feverish tongue.

“Where’s the money you an’ Carlisle gotaway with?” demanded Mannix.

“I’ve got all I took,” whined Sautee. “I’llgive it back. I don’t know what Carlisle’sdone with his. It was his scheme, anyway;he proposed it when he hit this country ayear ago.”

“And the other man–––” suggestedMannix.

“Mike Reynolds,” cried Sautee. “But hewas only in on the truck driver deal and––last night. Let The Coyote go, Mannix–––”

Then Sautee, in a frenzy of fear, an easyprey to the seriousness of the situation andhis shattered nerves, told everything. He

explained how it had been Carlisle whoproposed getting Rathburn out of jail andmaking him the goat. He told of theworthless contents of the package he hadgiven Rathburn to carry to the mine, howthey had planned to rob him on the wayand thus put him in a situation where hewould have to get out of the country. Heexplained how Carlisle had pointed outthat they had a club over Rathburn’s headin their knowledge of his real identity. Hecomplained that Carlisle had intended todouble cross him, and how he had doublecrossed Carlisle in turn. He ended with awhining plea for consideration at thehands of Mannix.

The men with Carlisle came down thetrail. Carlisle was astride his own horse.

His gun was in his holster.

“We’ve got you, you outlaw!” he cried ashe flung himself from the saddle andstrode up to Rathburn, Mannix, andSautee.

Rathburn’s eyes had narrowed until theywere slits through which his cold, hardgaze centered upon Carlisle. His attitudehad changed. Even his posture wassuddenly different. There was a longbreath from the men behind Mannix. It wasa tense moment. They could see themenace in Rathburn’s manner, and theycould see that Carlisle was fighting mad.

“Ain’t you a little free with your language,Carlisle?” drawled Rathburn.

“You know who he is?” Carlisle cried to

Mannix. “He’s The Coyote––an outlawan’ a killer with a price a mile long on hishead–––”

“But I ain’t never sneaked any miners’pay-rolls, Carlisle,” Rathburn broke inwith a sneering inflection in his voice.“What’d you do with Mike Reynolds? Hewas with you last night, wasn’t he?”

Carlisle’s jaw snapped shut. He swung onRathburn with eyes darting red. Then hisgaze flashed to the cringing Sautee.

“You––you rat–––”

Rathburn stepped before Sautee. “Youhaven’t any quarrel with him, Carlisle,”he said evenly; “your quarrel, if you’vegot one, is with me. I outguessed you,that’s all. You ain’t plumb clever,

Carlisle. You ought to be in a moregenteel business. I just naturally figuredout the play an’ made Sautee talk, that’sall. I ain’t the only gent Mannix iswanting––there’s three of us here!”

Carlisle’s face was purple and working inspasms of rage. He realized instantly thatRathburn had spoken the truth.

“It was his scheme from the start!”shrilled Sautee from the protection ofRathburn’s broad shoulders.

Then the mine manager, unable to longerstand the strain, collapsed on the ground,groaning.

“Underhanded!” Carlisle shot through histeeth as Mannix stepped back. “An’ Iheard The Coyote was a go-getter. By

guns, I believe you’re yellow!”

“You’ve got a chance to try an’ finishwhat you started in the Red Feather theday I got here, Carlisle,” said Rathburn inringing tones. “If you think I’m yellow––draw!”

A second’s hesitation––two figures inidentical postures under the morningsun––a vagrant breeze murmuring in thetimber.

Then two movements, quick as lightning––too fast for the eye to follow––and theroar of guns.

Rathburn stepped back, his weaponsmoking at his hip, as Carlisle swayed fora moment and then crumpled upon theground. Rathburn quickly drew the piece

of paper from his left pocket and the rollof bills from his right. He put the note withthe bills and tossed the roll to Mannix.Then he stepped back to the doorway.

“Join your men, Mannix,” he said quietly.

Mannix thrust the money into a pocket andstood for several seconds looking directlyinto Rathburn’s eyes. A curiousexpression was on the deputy’s face,partly wonder, partly admiration, partlydoubt. Then he turned abruptly upon hisheel and walked back to the gaping men.

Sautee struggled to his feet. Rathburnmotioned to him to join the others, and hestaggered down to them.

Then Rathburn coolly lit a match andtouched it to the fuse sticking out from the

box of dynamite.

There was a wild yell of terror, and themob tumbled down the trail as Rathburnran for the trail above the powder house.The men had disappeared when he turned.His gun leaped into his hand and hefired––once, twice, three times––thefourth shot cut the burning fuse, and with asharp intaking of breath, he ran for hishorse, mounted, and rode into the timberalong the trail.

CHAPTER XXV

FILED!

Rathburn picked his way slowly throughthe timber around to the southeast and thendirectly down toward the town. It wasslow going, and the man seemed to relishthis fact. His face was thoughtful, wistful,a bit grave. He occasionally patted hishorse’s neck.

“We’re on our way home, old hoss,” hesaid softly. “Seems like we just had tostop off here.”

He fingered two small objects in his coatpocket.

“I wonder,” he murmured. “I wonder if Icould be mistaken.”

He turned west after a time and rodecarefully until he gained a worn trail. Thishe followed down toward town, and inhalf an hour he dismounted in the timberbehind a small cabin at the side of theroad to the hogback.

Rathburn went to the rear door andknocked. He received no answer, butsounds came to him through an openwindow. He opened the door softly andstole inside. There was no one in thekitchen. The sounds came from anotherroom. He passed on into a bedroom andturned into another bedroom where he sawa figure in overalls lying on the bed. Agreat mass of dark hair covered the

pillow. The form shook with sobs.

Rathburn laid a gentle hand upon theshoulder, and the face, which was quicklyturned to him, was the face of a girl––thegirl he had first seen when coming into thetown, the girl who had been sitting thehorse listening to Carlisle’s tirade, the girlthe barn man had said was supposed to beCarlisle’s sister.

“They don’t know you were up there,”said Rathburn softly. “Your boy’s clothesfooled them, if they saw you at all. Theyprobably thought I was carrying Sauteedown the trail, for they found Sautee upthere in the powder house with me.”

The girl sobbed again. Her eyes were redwith weeping.

“Listen, ma’am,” said Rathburn gently. “Ipicked these up from the road the day thetruck driver was held up.” He brought outtwo hairpins from his coat pocket.

“It set me to thinking, ma’am, an’ was onereason why I stayed over here to find outwhat was goin’ on. Maybe I’ve donewrong, ma’am, but I was hoping I’d bedoin’ you a favor. I saw the look in youreyes the day Carlisle was talkin’ to youwhen you was on the hoss. I know youhelped him in his holdups, dressed like aboy, but I figured you didn’t do it becauseyou wanted to.”

“No––no––no!” sobbed the girl.

“All right; fine, little girl. No one knowsanything about it but me, an’ I’m goin’away. But, listen, girlie, just what was

Carlisle to you?”

A spasm of weeping shook the girl.“Nothing I could help,” she sobbed.“He––I had to do as he said––because––oh, I hate him. I hate him!”

“There, there,” soothed Rathburn. “Isuspected as much, girlie.”

“He made my father a bad man,” sobbedthe girl; “an’ made me go with him or myfather would have to go––to––to go–––”

“Never mind, girlie,” Rathburn interruptedsoftly. “I don’t want to hear the story. Justkeep it to yourself an’ start all over. Itain’t a bad world, girlie, an’ there’s moregood men in it than there’s bad. Now, youcan begin to live and be happy like youought. Carlisle won’t worry you no more.”

She raised her head and looked at him outof startled eyes in which there was a rayof hope.

“You say––he won’t––worry me–––”

“Not at all, girlie. He walked into his owntrap. I’m goin’, girlie. So long, an’ goodluck.”

He took her hand and pressed it, and underthe spell of his smile the hope came intoher welling eyes.

“Good-by,” he called from the doorway.

She was smiling faintly through her tearswhen he slipped out.

Deputy Sheriff Mannix was sitting in hislittle office alone. It was nearly sunset. Afaint glow of crimson shot across the

carpet.

Mannix was scowling thoughtfully. On thedesk before him were two pieces ofpaper. One of them was a reward noticepublishing the fact that The Coyote waswanted and that five thousand dollarswould be paid by the State of Arizona forhis capture, dead or alive.

Mannix picked up the second piece ofpaper and again read the words penciledupon it:

I am taking out of this money belonging tothe Dixie Queen the five hundred dollarsSautee promised me for carrying the moneyto the mine, and the two thousand dollarsreward offered for the capture of those whohad been robbing the Dixie Queen. I expectthat shortly after this gets into the properhands Sautee will be in jail, and he will be

handy to tell you this is all O. K.

Rathburn.

Mannix took up the reward notice, put itwith the note, and jammed the two piecesof paper into an obscure pigeonhole in hisdesk.

“Filed!” he said aloud.

Then he rose with a peculiar smile, wentout upon the little porch, and staredtoward the east where the reflection of thesunset cast a rosy glow over the foothillsleading down to the desert.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE PRODIGAL

With face upraised to the breath of airwhich stirred across the bare black lavahills, Rathburn leaned forward in thesaddle eagerly, while his dun-coloredhorse stood patiently, seemingly in accordwith his master’s mood. A merciless sunbeat down from a hot, cloudless sky.

Below, stretching in endless miles was thedesert––a sinister, forbidding land ofdesolate distances, marked only byslender yucca palms, mesquite, dustygreasewood, an occasional clump of green

palo verde, the slim fingers of the ocatilla,the high “forks” of the giant sahuara, andclumps of la cholla cactus, looking likeapple orchards in full bloom.

Yet the man’s gaze fell for a momentlovingly on each species of cactus anddesert vegetation; his look was that whichdwells in the homesick eyes of a travelerwhen he sees his native land from the deckof an inbound ship.

“Hoss, we’re home!” he said aloud, whilethe animal pricked up its ears.

Then he looked off to the left, where theblue outlines of a low range of mountainswavered in the heat like a mirage.

“Imagination Range,” he said moodily.

He tickled the dun with his spurs and

trotted along the crest of the lava ridge. Atits eastern terminus he swung down intothe desert and struck straight east in thedirection of Imagination Range. Thedesert’s surface between the lava ridgeand the higher hills of the range toeastward was cut by dry washes andarroyos and miniature ridges studded withgiant cactus.

On the top of one of these high rises thehorseman suddenly reined in his mountand stared into the south. “There’strouble––an’ spelled with a capital T!” heejaculated.

The gaze in his keen gray eyes centeredupon a number of riders speeding theirhorses over the tumbled section of desertbelow him to his right. He made out two

divisions of horsemen. One group wassome distance ahead of the other. Even ashe stared down at them, its groupseparated, and some rode for ImaginationRange, while others hastened toward thelava hills, or due north in his direction.The second group halted for a brief spell,evidently for a conference, and then itsmembers also divided and started in swiftpursuit of the men ahead.

The watcher on the top of the risefrowned.

“Out of here, hoss,” he said sharply. “Thisain’t our day for visitors.”

He pushed on eastward, increasing itspace, but losing time in skirting thefrequent bits of high ground. As he rodedown into a deep arroyo, a horseman

came galloping into its lower end andraced almost upon him before seeing him.His hand darted like lightning to his gun,and the weapon snapped into aim at hiship. The horseman came to a rearing halt,reins dangling, his hands held high, hiseyes bulging from their sockets.

“Rathburn!” he exclaimed.

“The same,” said the man with the gun.“What’s all the disturbance down there?”

“Bob Long is chasing us,” the otheranswered with a nervous grin.

“As I remember it,” drawled Rathburn,“Bob Long is the sheriff of MesquiteCounty. You boys sure ain’t beenmisbehaving?”

“It’s worse than that,” said the fugitive,

staring doubtfully at his questioner. “Thestage driver’s dead. Had a notion the bosswas foolin’ when he told him to reach upfor the bugs in the air.”

“Who does the boss happen to be in thiscase?”

The man hesitated.

“Take your time,” said Rathburnsarcastically; “there’s nobody after youbut the sheriff, an’ he probably won’t bealong for a minute or two.”

“It won’t do you no good for him to findus here,” said the other boldly.

Rathburn’s eyes blazed. “I reckon you’reforgettin’ that Bob Long knows I travelalone,” he said hotly. “He savvys I don’ttravel with a crowd. I ain’t found it

necessary so far, an’ I ain’t aiming to start.I counted eight in your gang––to hold upone stage, eh?” He concluded with asneer, while the other shifted nervously inhis saddle and cast a quick look back overhis shoulder. There seemed no one there.

“You needn’t be lookin’ around,”Rathburn said coldly. “You’re goin’ tostay here till you answer my question, ifall the sheriffs in Arizona come ridin’ upmeanwhile. Who’s headin’ your gang?”

“That ain’t professional,” the fugitivegrumbled. “You’re just the same as one ofus.”

Then, seeing the look that came intoRathburn’s eyes, he said hastily: “MikeEagen planned the lay.”

“I guessed it,” said Rathburn in a tone ofcontempt. “Well, you better slope whileyou’ve still got a chance.”

He motioned to the man to go, and thelatter rode at a gallop up the arroyo andout of sight. Rathburn’s face wore aworried scowl, as he slid his gun into itsholster, whirled his horse, and speedilyclimbed the east side of the arroyo.

From a vantage point he caught sight againof the horsemen racing up from the south.They were much nearer, and he couldreadily make out the members of thesheriff’s posse. He had had experiencewith posses before.

Striking around the crest of the highground which formed the east side of thearroyo, he again raced toward the range of

mountains in the east, taking advantage ofevery bit of cover which offeredconcealment from the riders approachingat top speed from the south.

Occasional glances made it plain that thesheriff was sending, or personallybringing, most of his posse east in thedirection of the mountains, presumably inthe hope of cutting off the outlaws fromseeking refuge in the hills. But themountains were Rathburn’s goal as wellas the goal of a majority of Mike Eagen’sband, though for totally different reasons.He refused to change his direction,although by going north, the stout, speedydun could doubtless outdistance the possebefore the afternoon was spent.

Rathburn’s teeth snapped shut, his jaw

squared, and his eyes narrowed, as he sawindubitable signs that he had beendetected. Two of the posse were wavingtheir arms and dashing in his direction. Atthat distance they could not identify him,but under the circumstances suchidentification was unnecessary. Hispresence there, riding like mad, wascertain to convince the pursuers that hewas one of the gang responsible for thestage job. This was obvious.

For good reasons, Rathburn did not wantit generally known that he was back in acountry where he had spent most of hislife, and where he was branded as adesperate outlaw with a big price on hishead. Consequently, seeing that thesheriff’s men were out to get him, he

abandoned all attempt at concealment,drove in his spurs, gave the dun horse itshead, and raced for the mountains.

Other members of the posse who werefarther to the east caught the signals of thetwo who were in hot pursuit of Rathburn,and they dashed north to cut him off. Theoutlaws had disappeared, and Rathburnshook his head savagely, as he realizedthey had sought cover when they saw thechase was directed at one man. Withouthaving had a hand in the holdup of thestage, he had arrived on the spot just intime to draw the fire of the authorities.And fire it was now; for the men behindhim had begun shooting in the hope of achance hit at the distance.

A scant mile separated him from his goal.

He came to a level stretch which wasalmost a mass of green because of theclumps of palo verde. Here he urged thedun to its utmost, outdistanced the pair inhis rear, and gained on the men ridingfrom the south, almost ahead of him. Heswerved a bit to the north and cut straightfor a notch in the mountains. He smiled, ashe approached it, and saw a narrow defileleading into the hills. He gained it in afinal, heartbreaking burst of speed on thepart of his mount. As he dashed into thecañon, bullets sang past him and over hishead. Then a cry of amazement came to hisears.

“It’s The Coyote!” a man was yelling.“Rathburn’s back!”

He dashed into the shelter of the defile, a

grim smile playing on his lips. He hadbeen recognized. His face hardened. Herounded a huge boulder, checked hishorse, and dismounted. He could hear thepound of hoofs in the entrance of thenarrow cañon. A rider came into viewbelow.

Rathburn leaned out from the protection ofthe boulder. His lips were pressed into afine, white line, and there was a look ofhaunted worry in his eyes. His gun flashedin his hand. The rider saw him and yelled,spurring his horse. Then Rathburn’s gunswung quickly upward. A sharp reportsounded, like a crash of thunder in thenarrow confines of the cañon, and itsechoes reverberated through the hills.

The rider toppled in his saddle and fell to

the floor of the cañon. His horse came to asnorting stop, reins dangling, all four legsbraced. The hoof-beats instantly werestilled. A silence, complete and sinister,reigned in the defile.

Rathburn slipped his smoking gun into hisholster and mounted noiselessly. Then hewalked his horse slowly up the cañon,sitting sidewise in the saddle to keep avigil on the trail behind. A minute later heheard a volley of shots below, the signalto all the scattered members of the posseto race to the entrance of the cañon. Heincreased his pace, broke his gun,extracted the empty shell, and inserted afresh cartridge in its place.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE DESERT CODE

Keeping to the trail, Rathburn mountedhigher and higher and spoke continually tohis horse in a crooning tone ofencouragement. His face was drawn ingrim lines, his eyes were constantly alert,his very posture in the saddle showed thathis nerves were at high tension.

He ignored dim paths which occasionallyled off to the left or right in rifts in thesheer, black walls of the narrow cañon.No sound came to him from below. Heknew the posse would have to proceed

with the utmost caution, for the sheriff andhis men could not be sure that they wouldnot encounter him at some bend in thetrail. They would be expecting shots fromevery boulder; for Rathburn had let themknow he had no intention of being takeneasily or alive.

The afternoon wore on, with Rathburnsteadily penetrating the very heart ofImagination Range. Finally he swung outof the cañon trail and took a dim path tothe right. He dismounted and walked backto rub off the scars left by his horse’sshoes on the rock floor of the side trail.Satisfied that he would leave the membersof the posse confused as to which sidetrail he had taken, he returned to his horse,mounted, and proceeded up the narrow

trail leading to the top of the range to thesouth of the deep cañon.

In the western sky the sun was low whenhe rode down the crest of the range. Themountains were devoid of vegetation,bleak and bare and black. The lava rockseemed to absorb the heat of the sun andthrow it in the rider’s face. But Rathburndidn’t appear to mind it.

He crossed the backbone of the range andbegan the descent on the eastern side. Buthe descended only a short distance beforehe swung out of the saddle. From theslicker pack on the rear of his saddle hetook a pair of heavy leather gloves. He cutthese open in the palms with hispocketknife and then tied them about theshoes on his horse’s hind feet. The dun

was only shod behind.

Again he mounted, and this time he turnedto the south and rode down a long slope oflava rock. He grunted with satisfaction, ashe looked behind and saw that the leatherprevented the shoes on his mount’s hindfeet from leaving their mark. He wascompletely obliterating his trail––leavingnothing for the posse to follow, if theyshould trace him to the top of the range.

He walked his horse slowly, for the dundid not like the idea of the leather tied toits hoofs. In less than two miles the leatherwas worn through upon the hard rock, andhe got down and removed the remnants.He straightened up and looked out overthe vista of the desert.

The western sky was a sea of gold. Far to

southward a curl of smoke rose upward,marking the course of a railroad and atown. Rathburn looked long in thisdirection, with a dreamy, wistful light inhis eyes. Close at hand vegetationappeared upon the slopes of the hills. Hisgaze darted here and there along the ridgesbelow him, and his parted lips and eagerattitude showed unmistakably that he wasfamiliar with every rod of the locality inwhich he found himself.

Again he climbed into the saddle andturned off to the left, entering a cañon. Forbetter than half a mile he proceeded downthis way, then he rode eastward again,winding in and out in a network of cañonsuntil he came to the rock-ribbed crest of aridge which overlooked an oasis in the

desert hills. There was green vegetationwhere the water from a spring seeped intothe floor of the cañon below him. Thespring was nothing more than a huge cupin the rock which had caught the waterfrom the spring rains and filled. Above thespring was a small cabin, and Rathburnsaw that the cabin door was open.

Hurriedly he rode down a trail to the rightwhich circled around into the cañon fromits lower end. As he galloped toward thespring, a figure appeared in the doorwayof the cabin. Rathburn waved an arm anddismounted at the spring. He led his horseto drink, as the man came walking towardhim from the cabin. He compelled the dunto drink slowly; first a swallow, now two,then a few more; finally he drew the horse

away from the water.

“You can have some more a little later,”he said cheerfully. “Hello, Joe Price!”

The man walked up to him without a greatshow of surprise and held out his hand. Hewas bareheaded, and the hair which hungdown to his shoulders was snow-white.The face was seamed and lined, burned bythe sun of three score Arizona summers,and the small, blue eyes twinkled.

“Hang me with a busted shoe string if itain’t Rathburn,” said the old man. “Why,boy, you’re just in time for supper. Putyour horse up behind the cabin an’ get inat the table. She’s a big country, all full ofcactus; but the old man’s got grub left!”

Rathburn laughed, rinsed his mouth out

with water he dipped from the spring in abattered tin cup, and took a swallowbefore he replied.

“Joe, there’s two things I want––grub an’gaff. I know you’ve got grub, or youwouldn’t be here; but I don’t know ifyou’re any good at the gaff any more.”

The old man scrutinized him. “You looksome older,” he said finally. “Not much ofthe wild, galootin’ kid left in you, I ’spect.But don’t go gettin’ fresh with me, or I’llclout you one with my prospectin’ pick.Go ’long now; put up your horse an’ hustleinside. If you want to wash up, I guess youcan––bein’ a visitor.”

Rathburn chuckled, as he led his horsearound behind the cabin, where twoburros were, and unsaddled him. Before

he entered the cabin he stood for a momentlooking up the ridge down which he hadcome. The old man watched him, but madeno comment. As Rathburn sat down to thetable, however, he spoke.

“I kin hear anybody comin’ down that trailover the ridge, while they’re a mileaway,” he said simply without looking up.

Rathburn flashed a look of admiration atthe old man.

The glow of the sunset lit the hills withcrimson fire, and a light breeze stirredwith the advent of the long, colorful deserttwilight. They ate in silence, washingdown the hardy food with long drafts ofstrong coffee. The old man asked noquestions of his friend. He knew that intime Rathburn would talk. A man’s

business in that desolate land of dreadfuldistances was his own, save such of it ashe wanted to tell. It was the desert code.

Supper over, they went out to a littlebench in front of the cabin. There JoePrice lit his pipe, and Rathburn rolled acigarette.

For some time they smoked in silence. Thepurple twilight drifted over the hills, andthe breeze freshened in welcome relief tothe heat of the day.

“Joe, I just had to come back,” saidRathburn softly. “Something’s wrong withme. You wouldn’t think I’d get homesickthis way, after all the trouble I’ve hadhere, would you?”

The old man removed his pipe. “Anybody

here in particular you want to see?” heasked slowly.

Rathburn shrugged. “You’re alwaysgettin’ right down to cases first hand offan’ running,” he complained. “Of coursethere’s folks I want to see. I want to seeyou, for instance.”

“I don’t reckon you’d be ridin’ anyterrible great distance an’ takin’ chancesby the handful just to see me, boy,” saidPrice. “But I ain’t tryin’ to pry into youraffairs. You don’t have to answer any ofthe fool questions I ask you––you knowthat. I’m an old man an’ gettin’ childish.”

Rathburn laughed. “I can believe thatwhen I find you still putterin’ around uphere where there ain’t even a sign ofmineral,” he chided.

“There’s gold right under your feet,” saidthe old man stoutly. “I’ll have a payin’vein opened up here in less’n threemonths.”

“I hope so, Joe. There’s nobody I’d likemore to see make a big strike than you.You were my dad’s friend, an’ you’vebeen mine. I haven’t got many friends,Joe.”

“But them you’ve got is good ones,” saidPrice quickly. “How long you beenaway?”

“About eight months,” Rathburn repliedwith a frown.

“It’s hard to get away from the desert,”mused the old man. “It’s in your blood. Ifyou leave here for good you’ve just

naturally got to take something along withyou from here––something that’s a part ofthe desert, you might say.”

Rathburn looked keenly at the face of hisfriend. But the old man was regarding hispipe, as if he had never until that momentseen it.

“I ran into a posse chasin’ a gang thatrobbed a stage on the way over here thisnoon,” Rathburn said presently.

Price’s interest quickened, but he made nosign. “They saw you?” he asked.

“Couldn’t help it,” Rathburn grumbled.“Took after me. I had to drop one of ’emwith a bullet in the shoulder to slow ’emup in the long cañon over on the otherside.”

“Know any of the gang?” Price asked.

“Met one. Threw down my gun on him. Hetold me Mike Eagen was runnin’ theworks.”

Price nodded. “I reckon Mike’s beenpullin’ quite a few stunts while you beenaway.”

“An’ I’ve been gettin’ the blame for ’emmore’n likely,” said Rathburn inindignation.

Price nodded again. “Might be so,” hecommented.

Rathburn looked up at him inunderstanding. “They’ll have me mixed upwith this stage holdup,” he said earnestly.“From what I gathered they killed thedriver, an’ they’ll say that was my part.”

“That’s the trouble, boy,” said the oldminer. “If a fellow’s handy with his gunsomebody’s sure to get jealous of him an’make him draw. If he gets his man becausehe has to, he’s a killer. When he’s knownas a killer he ain’t got a chance. You hadto drop the two men you dropped aroun’here, boy; but they ain’t forgettin’ it.”

“Bob Long was headin’ that posse,” saidRathburn thoughtfully.

“An’ Bob Long’s a sticker when he hitsout on a man’s trail,” said Price. “Still, Iguess you’d be safe in here for a while.There ain’t many knows this place.”

“I don’t figure on stayin’ here long, Joe,”said Rathburn.

“I didn’t think you did,” said Price.

“I’ll have to get goin’––hit for newcountry an’ never know when I may run upagainst the law in a quarter where I ain’texpecting it; always sneaking along––likethe coyote. It was Mike Eagen who gaveme that name, Joe.”

Rathburn’s voice was low and vibrant,and the old man felt the menacing qualityin it.

“What’s more,” Rathburn went on, “I’malways remembering that he’s back here,getting away with his dirty tricks, shovingthe blame off on me, some way or other,when the chase gets too hot.”

For some time the old man was silent.When he spoke he put an arm aboutRathburn’s shoulder.

“Boy, before you get worse mixed up thanyou are, there’s a place you ought to visitaroun’ here,” he said in a fatherly tone.

Rathburn shrugged and stared up at thenight sky which was blossoming withstars.

“It would be a right smart risk,” Pricewent on, “for they’d maybe think to droparoun’ that way on a lookout for you; but Ireckon before you do much more, youbetter drop in at the Mallory place.”

Rathburn rose abruptly. “I guess that’swhat I came up here to hear you say,” hesaid irritably. “But I don’t reckon it can bedone, Joe. I haven’t any business there.”

“How do you know, boy? Maybe you ain’tbein’ right fair.”

“Seems to me it would look better for meto stay away.”

“They don’t have to see you,” urged theold man. “The Mallory place is a goodfifteen miles from Hope, close up againstthe mountains. Boy, don’t you think youbetter make sure?”

The wistful, yearning look was back inRathburn’s eyes. His right hand restedupon the butt of his gun. The other held hisforgotten cigarette. He turned and lookedinto the old man’s eyes.

“Joe, you said something about takin’something from the desert if I left it.You’re right. But it can’t be, Joe. Thisthing has killed my chances!”

The gun seemed to leap from its holster

into his hand at his hip of its own accord.The old miner’s brows lifted inastonishment at the draw.

“If I was you I wouldn’t be much scaredwho I met on the way down to the Malloryplace if I didn’t meet too many of ’em atonce,” he said with a smile.

“I––I couldn’t wear it––there,” Rathburnfaltered.

“Well, leave it hangin’ on a handy peg,boy,” said the old man cheerfully.

Rathburn jammed the gun back into itsholster and walked around to his horse.He led the animal down to drink and thenreturned and saddled.

“You goin’ on to-night?” asked Pricecasually.

“I’m takin’ a ride,” Rathburn confessed.

“You ain’t takin’ my advice at the sametime, are you?” asked Price, pretending tobe greatly concerned.

Rathburn mounted and looked down uponhim in the faint light of the stars.

“Joe Price, you’re a wise old desert rat,an’ I’m a young fool,” he said with atwinkle in his gray eyes. “If Bob Longhappens this way give him my regards an’tell him they got the reward notices overin California all right, for I saw ’em stuckup over there. So long.”

The old miner called out after him andwatched him ride down the cañon anddisappear in the shadows. Nor was he theonly watcher; for, high on the ridge above,

another man touched his horse with hisspurs and started down the west side ofthe range, as Rathburn vanished.

CHAPTER XXVIII

A NIGHT SUMMONS

In two hours Rathburn came to a fenceabout a small ranch. Cattle were grazingon the sparse feed within the inclosure,and he saw a clump of trees marking thesite of a house.

He rode around the fence until he came toa gate. There was a light shining from twoof the windows of the house. He passedthrough the gate, and, as he approached thehouse from the side, he saw two figures onthe porch. He halted in the shelter of thetrees, and, as one of the figures crossed

the beam of light which shone out thedoor, he saw that it was a man. Heobtained a fleeting look at the man’s face.He was comparatively young, not badlooking, with blue eyes and a small,close-cropped, sandy mustache.

Rathburn scratched his head in an effort toplace the man. He seemed vaguelyfamiliar. Rathburn was sure he had seenhim somewhere. But he gave up the futileeffort to identify him when he saw that theother figure on the porch was that of a girl.

Dismounting, he led his horse around tothe rear and put him in a corral near thebarn. He surmised that it was about teno’clock. As he walked toward the front ofthe house, again he heard the sputtering ofa small motor car; then he saw the path of

light from its headlights go streakingacross the desert in the direction of thetown to southward. The front door closed,and all was still.

Rathburn hesitated for several moments,then he stamped up the porch steps andknocked at the door. It was opened by agirl. She held a lighted lamp in her hand.When she saw Rathburn standing, hat inhand, before her, her dark eyes widened,and she nearly dropped the lamp. Hestepped forward quickly and took it fromher.

“Roger!” she exclaimed breathlessly.“You––here?”

“I’m here, Laura,” he said quietly. “I’mhome on a––a visit.”

“I heard you were back,” she faltered.“Mr. Doane––that is––a gentleman fromtown told me he had heard you were back.But–––”

She scanned his face closely and peeredbeyond him into the shadows with visibleconcern.

“Roger, come in quickly,” she invited,stepping back from the door.

With a faint smile he entered and closedthe door after him. He put the lamp downon the table in what was evidently thesitting room of the small house. He lookedabout him with the air of one who seesfamiliar surroundings, but is embarrassedby them.

“Some one been tellin’ you the details of

my arrival?” he asked with an effort toappear casual.

“I heard you were in some trouble,Roger.” The girl continued to stare at himwith a queer expression in her fine eyes––part sorrow, part concern, part gladness.

“I’m not a stranger to trouble these days,Laura,” he said soberly.

There was a sob in the girl’s throat, butshe recovered herself at once.

“Have you eaten?” she asked quickly.

“Up at Joe Price’s place,” he replied.“All fed and chipper.”

There was not much confidence in his toneor manner. As the girl lowered her gaze,he looked at her hungrily; his eyes feasted

on the coils of dark hair, her long, blacklashes, the curve of her cheek and herdelicate color, the full, ruby lips, and thesmall, quivering chin. She was in thethroes of a strong emotion.

“I’m sorry, Laura, if––you didn’t want meto come,” he said unsteadily.

“Oh, Roger! Of course we want you tocome. It’s been so long since we saw you.And you’ve––you’ve gone through somuch.”

She raised her eyes, and the expressionwhich he saw in their depths caused himto look away and to bite his lips.

“There’s a lot of it I wish I could undo,Laura; an’ there’s a lot more of it Icouldn’t help, an’ maybe some I––I––

wasn’t–––” He paused. He couldn’t bringhimself to say anything in extenuation ofhimself and his acts in the presence of thisgirl. It might sound as if he were playingfor her sympathy, he thought to himself.

“Roger, I know you haven’t done all thethings I’ve heard about,” she said bravely.“And there’s always a chance. You’re aman. You can find a way out. If the trailsseem all twisted and tangled, you can usea compass––your own conscience, Roger.You still have that.”

“How did you happen to mention the trailsbein’ all mixed up like that?” he askedcuriously.

“Why––I don’t know. Isn’t that the way itseems?”

Rathburn looked away with a frown. “Youcome near hittin’ the nail on the head,Laura.”

“Oh, then you are beginning to think!” shesaid eagerly.

“I’ve done nothing but think for months,”Rathburn confessed.

She looked at him searchingly. Then hereyes dropped to the black butt of the gunin the holster strapped to his right thigh.She shuddered slightly.

“You came from the west, Roger?” sheasked.

“Yes,” he replied shortly. “From wherethere’s water an’ timber an’ flowers an’grass––but they had my number there, justthe same as they’ve got it here. I’m a

marked man, Laura Mallory.”

She leaned upon the table with one hand;the other she held upon her breast.

“Are––are they––after you, Roger?” sheasked in a low, anxious tone.

“As usual,” he answered with a vaguelaugh. “Laura, I didn’t come here to botheryou with my troubles; I come here just tosee you.”

The girl colored. “I know, Roger. We’veknown each other a long time––since wewere children. You wouldn’t like it for menot to show any concern over yourtroubles, would you?”

“I wish we could talk about somethingelse,” said Rathburn. “I can’t stay long.”

Laura Mallory looked worried. “May Iask where you plan to go, Roger?”

“I’m not sure. I only know I wanted tocome back, an’ I came. I hadn’t any fixedplans, an’ I wasn’t expecting the receptionI got.” His face clouded. Then he lookedstraight into the girl’s eyes. “I hit thiscountry this morning,” he said steadily.“The first folks I saw was some menridin’ in my direction up between the lavahills and the range. Then things began tohappen.”

She nodded brightly. “I believe you,” shesaid simply.

Rathburn smiled. “You aways did that,Laura, an’ I ain’t never been much of ahand at lying.”

“Roger,” she said quickly, “if they allknew you as well as I think I knowyou–––”

“They wouldn’t believe,” he interrupted.“They call me The Coyote, an’ they’llhave me live up to the name whether Iwant to or not,” he added bitterly.

“But, Roger, you’re forgetting what I saidabout the trails and the compass.”

“No, Laura, I’m not, but there’s anotherforce besides the big lodestone that’saffectin’ that compass.”

“Roger, you’re thinking of an enemy!”

He did not answer her. His face appearedgrim, almost haggard, in the yellow raysof the lamplight.

“Roger, you once promised me anything Imight ask,” she said softly.

“An’ all you have to do is ask,” heanswered, taking a step toward her.

“I’m going to ask you for something,Roger,” she said without looking at him.“Maybe you’ll think it’s––it’s too muchthat I ask.” She glanced up at himdoubtfully.

“What is it, Laura?” he insisted.

“I want your gun, Roger,” she whispered.

He straightened and stared at her instartled wonder. “But, Laura––a man inmy position––why––why––where would Ibe at?”

“Maybe if you gave it to me it would help

you find a way out, Roger,” she pleadedearnestly.

Rathburn looked into her eyes and thrilled.Then without a word he unbuckled hiscartridge belt which held his holsteredgun, untied the strap about his thigh andlaid the belt with the weapon upon thetable.

“Roger!” said the girl. The sob again wasin her voice. She reached out and placed ahand upon his arm.

An elderly man appeared in the doorwayfrom the kitchen.

“Father, this is Roger,” said the girlhurriedly. “He’s back.”

“What’s that? Roger, eh? You meanRathburn is here?”

The old man peered at the visitor from thedoorway, his lean face twitching. Hestroked his gray beard in indecision. Hisblue eyes looked long at Rathburn, then atthe girl, and lastly at the gun and belt onthe table.

“Well, hello, Rathburn,” he said finally,advancing into the room. He held out ahand which Rathburn grasped.

“Did you eat yet?” asked Mallory.

“In the hills with Joe Price,” repliedRathburn. “But I’m just as much obliged.”

“Yes, of course,” Mallory muttered. “WithJoe, eh? He ain’t been down in months.How is he?”

“Looks good as a gold mine an’ thinkshe’s found one,” said Rathburn, looking at

the girl’s father curiously.

“That’s what keeps him up,” Malloryasserted loudly. “He’ll never get old aslong as he thinks he’s got a minecorralled. He ought to try stock raisin’ fora while. You look older, Rathburn––morefilled out. Are you still cutting ’em high,wide, an’ handsome?”

Rathburn’s face clouded.

“Roger’s starting new, dad,” the girlinterposed.

Mallory stared keenly at the younger man.He started to speak, but was interruptedby the sound of horses outside the house.

Rathburn whirled toward the door, took astep, and stopped in his tracks. The girl’shands flew to the sides of her face, and

her eyes widened with apprehension.

“I’ll go see who it is,” said Mallory witha quick look at Rathburn.

He hastened out into the kitchen, and amoment later they heard the kitchen dooropen. There was a murmur of voices. Thegirl stared at Rathburn breathlessly, whilehe tapped with his slim fingers upon thetop of the table.

Then Mallory came in. “Somebody to seeyou,” he said to Rathburn.

Rathburn looked once at the white-facedgirl and followed her father out into thekitchen. She heard them speak in anundertone, and then Rathburn came backinto the room.

“I ain’t much elated over my visitor,” he

said slowly. “I wish you hadn’t asked mewhat you did until––well, until this callerhad come an’ gone.”

She looked straight into his eyes in anagony of dread.

“Who is it, Roger?” she asked, wetting herlips.

“Mike Eagen is out there,” he answeredcalmly.

She drew a quick breath, while he waited.Then he turned on his heel and started forthe kitchen door.

“Roger!” she called.

He swung about and eyed herquestioningly. She pointed at the heavybelt and gun on the table.

“Take it,” she whispered.

He buckled on the belt and tied down theend of the holster so it could not slip if heshould draw the weapon within it. Then hemade his way into the kitchen and out ofthe rear door. Laura Mallory sank into achair, sobbing.

CHAPTER XXIX

GUNMEN

For a moment Rathburn waited at thekitchen door. He heard Mallory goingupstairs from the next room. All was stilloutside, save for the stamping of severalhorses. Then he suddenly opened the doorand stepped out. There was no sound ormovement, as he accustomed his eyes tothe dim light without. He moved acrossthe threshold and walked straight to abulky figure standing beside a large horse.

“You want to see me, Eagen?” he askedcoldly.

“Watch out there, Eagen!” came Mallory’svoice in a strident tone from a windowabove them. “I’ve got you covered withthis Winchester!”

Both Rathburn and Eagen looked up andsaw Mallory leaning out of a windowover the kitchen, and the stock of a riflewas snug against his cheek and shoulder.

“Acts like he’s scared you can’t take careof yourself,” said Eagen with a sneer.“The way you ditched that posse to-day Ididn’t think you needed a bodyguard.”

“I don’t,” Rathburn retorted. “The old manis acting on his own hook. You waswatching the sport to-day?”

“Couldn’t help it,” said Eagen. “It was mean’ some of the boys they was after. You

sort of helped us out by coming along an’attracting their attention. I pegged youwhen I saw you ride for it, an’ I knew theywouldn’t get you.”

“You mean you hid an’ let me stand thegaff,” said Rathburn scornfully. “That’syour style, Eagen. You’re plumb afraid tocome out from under cover.”

He noted that there were three men withEagen. They were quietly sitting theirhorses some little distance behind theirleader.

Eagen muttered something, and Rathburncould see his face working with rage.Then Eagen’s coarse features underwent achange, and he grinned, his teeth flashingwhite under his small, black mustache.

“Look here, Rathburn, there’s no use inyou an’ me being on the outs,” he said inan undertone. “We’ve got something incommon.”

“You’ve made a mistake already,”Rathburn interrupted sharply. “We haven’ta thing in common I know of, Eagen,unless it’s a gun apiece.”

“Maybe you think that’s all we need,” saidEagen hoarsely; “an’ if that’s the way youfeel you won’t find me backin’ downwhen you start something. Just now I ain’tforgetting that crazy fool with that rifle upthere.”

“You didn’t come here for a gun play,Eagen,” said Rathburn. “You ain’t plumbloco every way. I take it you saw memakin’ for this place an’ followed me

here. What do you want?”

“I want to talk business,” said Eagen witha hopeful note in his voice; “but you won’tlet me get started.”

“An’ I won’t have dealings with you,”said Rathburn crisply.

“That’s what you think,” sneered Eagen.“But you’re in a tight corner, an’ we canhelp you out. Long said to-day, I heard justnow, that he’d put every deputy he had an’every man he could swear in as a specialon your trail, and he’d get you.”

“The thing that I can’t see,” drawledRathburn, “is what that’s got to do withyou. I suppose you’re here as a missionaryto tip me off. Thanks.”

Eagen had calmed down. He stepped

closer to Rathburn and spoke in a lowtone.

“Here’s the lay: They’re after you, an’they’re after us. I know you’re no stoolpigeon, an’ I know I ain’t takin’ a chancewhen I tell you that we’ve got a big jobcomin’ up––one that’ll get us a pretty roll.It takes nerve to pull it off, even thoughcertain things will make it easier. Youmight just as well be in on it. You canmake it a last job an’ blow these parts forgood. You don’t have to come in, ofcourse; but it’ll be worth your while.You’ve got the name, an’ you might aswell have what goes with it. I’ll let youhead the outfit an’ shoot square all theway.”

Rathburn laughed scornfully. “When I

heard you was out here, Eagen, I guessedit was something like this that brought youhere. Maybe you’re statin’ facts as to thisjob which, you say, is coming up. But youlied when you said you’d shoot square,Eagen. I wouldn’t trust you as far as youcould throw a bull by the tail, an’ there’shalf a dozen other reasons why you an’ mecouldn’t be pardners!”

Eagen stepped back with a snarl of rage.“I don’t reckon you’re entitled to what repyou’ve got!” he blurted hoarsely. “Rightdown under the skin, Rathburn, I believeyou’re soft!”

“That’s puttin’ it up to me all fair an’square,” Rathburn replied evenly. “I’llgive it right back to you, Eagen.”

“Get that gun out of the window.”

“Mallory.”

“Right here, Rathburn, an’ all set,” cameMallory’s voice.

“Get that gun out of the window.”

“What’s that? Don’t you see there’s threeof ’em? You–––”

“Get that gun out of the window!” rangRathburn’s voice.

“Let him play with it,” Eagen said harshly.

Mallory withdrew from the window, asEagen reached for his left stirrup andswung into the saddle.

“I see you ain’t takin’ it,” Rathburn calledto him with a jeering laugh.

“An’ I ain’t forgettin’ it?” Eagen shouted,

as he drove in his spurs.

His three companions galloped after him,and Rathburn caught sight of a dark-skinned face, a pair of beady, black eyes,and the long, drooping mustaches of one ofthe men.

“Gomez!” he exclaimed to himself.“Eagen’s takin’ up with the Mexicans.”

Mallory appeared in the kitchen door,holding a lamp above his head. “What’dhe want?” he demanded of Rathburn.

“More’n he got,” answered Rathburnshortly. Then he saw Laura Mallorystanding behind her father.

“I mean to say he made a little propositionthat I had to turn down,” he amended, witha direct glance at the girl. “An’ now I’ve

got to do some more ridin’.”

“You leavin’ to-night?” asked Mallory insurprise. “We can put you up here,Rathburn, an’ I’ll keep an eye out forvisitors.”

“And we’d have ’em afore mornin’,” saidRathburn grimly. “Eagen will see to it thatBob Long knows I was out here, rightpronto. But I aim to stop any posses frombotherin’ around your place. If there’s onething I don’t want to do, Mallory, it’smake any trouble for you.”

The girl came walking toward him andtouched his arm.

“What are you going to do, Roger?” sheasked in an anxious voice.

“I’m goin’ straight into Hope,” Rathburn

replied.

“But, Roger,” the girl faltered, “won’t thatmean––mean–––”

“A show-down? Maybe so. I ain’t side-steppin’ it.”

A world of worry showed in the girl’seyes. “Roger, why don’t you go away?”she asked hesitatingly. “Things could beworse, and maybe in time they wouldbecome better. Folks forget, Roger.”

For a moment Rathburn’s hand rested onhers, as he looked down at her.

“There’s two ways of forgettin’, girlie,”he said soberly. “An’ I don’t want ’em toforget me the wrong way.”

“But, Roger, promise me you won’t––

won’t––turn your gun against a man,Roger. It would make things so muchworse. It would leave––nothing now.Don’t you see? It takes courage to avoidwhat seems to be the inevitable. Thatterrible skill which is yours, the trick inthis hand on mine, is your worst enemy.Oh, Roger, if you’d never learned tothrow a gun!”

“It isn’t that,” he told her gently. “It isn’twhat you think at all. I’d rather cut off thatright hand than have it raised unfairlyagainst a single living thing. They call mea gunman, girlie, an’ I reckon I am. ButI’m not a killer. There’s a differencebetween the two, an’ sometimes I thinkit’s that difference that’s makin’ all thetrouble. I’m still tryin’ to steer by that

thing you call the compass, an’ that’s whyI’ve got to go to town.”

He stepped away from her, waved afarewell to Mallory, who was watchingthe scene with a puzzled expression, andran for his horse. A minute later theringing hoof beats of his mount were dyingin the still night.

Laura Mallory swayed, and her fatherhurried to her with the lamp and put hisarm about her.

“What’s it all about, sweetie?” he askedcomplainingly.

“Nothing, daddy, nothing––only I lovehim.”

A puff of wind blew out the light in thelamp, and father and daughter stood with

arms about each other under the dancingstars.

CHAPTER XXX

THE SHERIFF’S PLIGHT

Riding slowly Rathburn kept well intoward the range and proceededcautiously. This wasn’t alone a safetymeasure, for he wished to favor his horse.The dun had been hard ridden in the spurtto gain the mountains ahead of the posse.He had been rested at Price’s cabin, to besure, and also at the Mallory ranch; butnow Rathburn had a ride of fifteen milesto the town of Hope, and he did not knowhow much riding he might have to do nextday.

When a scant three miles from Hope, hehalted, loosened the saddle cinch, andrested his horse, while he himself reclinedon the ground and smoked innumerablecigarettes. He was in a thoughtful mood,serious and somewhat puzzled. Therecollection of Eagen’s propositioncaused him to frown frequently. Then awistful light would glow in his eyes, andhe thought of Laura Mallory. This wouldbe succeeded by another frown, and thenhis eyes would narrow, and the smile thatmen had come to fear would tremble onhis lips.

He was again in the saddle with the firstfaint glimmer of the approaching dawn.He covered the distance into Hope at aswinging lope and rode in behind a row of

neat, yellow-brick buildings whichformed the east side of one block on theshort main street.

Securing his horse behind a buildingmidway of the rear of the block, heentered one of the buildings through aback door. It proved to be a combinationpool room and soft-drink bar. No one wasin the place except the porter who wascleaning up. Rathburn noted that the manshowed no evidences of knowing him,although this was Rathburn’s home town.

“Kind of early, ain’t you, boss?” grinnedthe porter. “Maybe you’re lookin’ forsomething to start the day with.” Hewinked broadly.

Rathburn nodded and walked over to thebar.

“Just get in?” asked the porter, as he putout a bottle of white liquor and glanced atthe dust on Rathburn’s clothes.

“Just in,” replied Rathburn, pouring andtossing off one drink. “Where’severybody? Too early for ’em?”

“Well, it’s about an hour too early on theaverage, unless there’s been an all-nightgame,” replied the porter, putting thebottle away, as his customer declined asecond drink. “But then there ain’t verymany in town right now. Everybody’s outafter the reward money.”

Rathburn lifted his brows.

“Say,” exclaimed the porter eagerly, “youdidn’t see any men ridin’ looselike, whenyou was coming in, did you?”

Rathburn shook his head. “What’s all thisyou’re tryin’ to chirp into my ear?” heasked.

“Well, Bob Long, the sheriff, has got allhis deputies out except just the jailer––there ain’t anybody much in jail now,anyway––an’ all the other men he couldpin a star on, lookin’ for a gang that heldup the stage from Sunshine yesterdaymornin’, shot the stage driver dead, an’made off with an express package full ofmoney. There’s a big reward out for theman that’s leadin’ the gang. He’s calledThe Coyote. Used to live here. He’s a badone.”

“Sheriff out, too?” Rathburn asked,showing great interest.

“Sure. Come back in early last night an’

got more men. They’re tryin’ to surroundImagination Range, I guess. That’s wherethis Coyote an’ his gang are supposed tobe hanging out. The sheriff don’t care somuch for the fellers that’s with him, Iguess, but he sure does want this Coyoteperson. He told everybody to let the ganggo if they had to, but to get the leader.”

Rathburn looked through the frontwindows with a quizzical smile on hislips. The sun was shining in the desertedstreet.

“How many men has the sheriff got?” heinquired casually.

“Most two hundred, I guess. They’rescattered all over the range, an’ a lot of’em has hit over on the other side. Theythink The Coyote crossed the range an’ is

makin’ east.”

“Well, maybe he has, an’ maybe hehasn’t,” Rathburn observed. “The bestplace to hide from a posse is in the middleof it.”

The porter looked at him, then burst into aloud laugh. “I guess you said somethingthat time, pardner. In the middle of it, eh?”He went about his work, chuckling, whileRathburn walked to a front window andstood looking out.

A few minutes later he stepped quicklyback into a corner, as a small automobileraced up the street. He sauntered to therear door, passed out with a pleasantword to the porter, and when he gained theopen, hurried up behind the buildings thelength of the block. There he turned to the

left and walked rapidly to a large stonebuilding. He went around on the east sideand entered a door on the ground floor. Hefound himself in a hallway, and on his leftwas a door, on the glazed glass of theupper half of which was the gold lettering:“Sheriff’s Office.”

After a moment’s hesitation he opened thedoor quickly and went in. A man standingbefore an open roll-top desk turned andregarded the early-morning visitor. Hewas a small man, but of wiry build. Hiseyes were gray, and he wore a small,brown mustache. He had a firm chin, andhis face was well tanned. He was holdinga paper in his hands, and the paperremained as steady as a rock in his grasp.His eyes bored straight and unflinchingly

into Rathburn’s. He showed no surprise,no concern. He made no move toward thepair of guns in the holsters of the beltwhich reposed on top of his desk. Hespoke first.

“Have you come to give yourself up,Rathburn?”

“Hardly that, sheriff,” replied Rathburncheerfully. “I arrived in town this morningafter most of the population had moved tothe desert and the country aroun’Imagination. I didn’t think I was goin’ tobe lucky enough to catch you in till I sawyou arrive in that flivver. Are you back formore recruits?”

The sheriff continued to hold the paperwithout moving.

“When you first started to talk, Rathburn, Ithought maybe bravado had brought youhere to make a grand-stand play,” he saidcoolly. “But I see you’re not as foolhardyas some might think. I always gave youcredit for being clever.”

“Thanks, Sheriff Long,” said Rathburndryly. “There’s a few preliminaries we’vegot to get over, so–––”

His gun leaped into his hand and instantlycovered the official. He stepped to the endof the desk, reached over andappropriated the belt with the two gunswith his left hand. He tossed the belt andweapons to a vacant chair.

“Now, sheriff, I didn’t come lookin’ for acell like you hinted; I drifted in for a bit ofinformation.”

“This is headquarters for that article,especially if it’s about yourself,” saidLong, dropping the paper on his desk andsitting down in the chair before it.

“What all have you got against me?”frowned Rathburn.

“Nothing much,” said the sheriff withbiting sarcasm; “just a few killings,highway robbery, a bank stick-up, two orthree gaming houses looted, and a stageholdup. Enough to keep you in the BigHouse for ninety-nine years and then hangyou.”

Rathburn nodded. “You’re sure anambitious man, sheriff. The killingsnow––there was White and Moran, thatyou know about, an’ a skunk over inCalifornia named Carlisle, that you don’t

know about, I guess. I couldn’t get awayfrom those shootings, sheriff.”

“How about Simpson and Manley?”countered the official scornfully.

“Not on my list,” said Rathburn quickly. “Iheard I was given credit for those affairs,but I wasn’t a member of the party wherethey were snuffed out.”

“If you can make a jury believe that,you’re in the clear,” said Long. “But howabout that stage driver yesterdaymorning?”

Rathburn’s face darkened. “I got in fromthe west just in time to stumble on thatgang of rats,” he flared. “That’s how yourmen came to see me. The chase happenedto come in my direction, that’s all.”

“If you can prove that, you’re all rightagain,” the sheriff pointed out. “The lawwill go halfway with you, Rathburn.”

“An’ I probably wouldn’t be able to proveit,” said Rathburn bitterly. “Those otherthings––the bank job an’ the gamblin’stick-ups––I was younger then, sheriff, an’no one can say that that bank sharp didn’tdo me dirt.”

“If you can show a good, reasonable doubtin those other cases, Rathburn, I know thecourt would show leniency if the juryfound you guilty on the counts you justmentioned,” said the sheriff earnestly.“I’m minded to believe you, so far asyesterday’s work was concerned. I havean idea or two myself, but I haven’t beenable to get a good line on my man. He’s

too tricky. Of course I’m not going to urgeyou to do anything against your will. Iappreciate your position. You’re afugitive, but you have your liberty.Perhaps you can get away clean, though Idoubt it. But there’s that chance, andyou’ve naturally got to take it intoconsideration. And you’re not sure ofanything if you go to trial on the chargesthere are against you. But it would countlike sixty in your favor, Rathburn, if you’dgive yourself up.”

Rathburn stared at the officialspeculatively. His thoughts flashed backalong the years to the time when he andLaura Mallory had played together aschildren. He thought of what she had saidthe night before about the compass. He

shifted uneasily on his feet.

“Funny thing, sheriff, but I had some suchfool notion,” he confessed.

“It takes nerve, Rathburn, for a man whois wanted to walk in and give up his gun,”said the sheriff quietly.

“I was thinking of something else,” saidRathburn. “An’ I’ve got to think somemore about this that you’ve sort of put inmy head.”

“How much time do you want, Rathburn?”asked Long.

Rathburn scowled. “Our positions haven’tchanged,” he said curtly. “I’m still the manyou’re lookin’ for. I’ll have to do mythinkin’ on my own hook, I reckon.”

“Just as you say,” Long said gravely. “Goover what I’ve told you carefully anddon’t make any more false moves whileyou’re making up your mind. Youwounded one of my men yesterday.”

“I shot high on purpose,” Rathburn pointedout. “I didn’t aim to be corralled justthen.”

“I know you did,” was the sheriff’srejoinder. “I know you could have killedhim. I gave you credit for it.”

“You give me credit for quite a fewthings, sheriff,” said Rathburnwhimsically. “An’ now you’ll have togive me credit for bein’ plumb cautious. Itain’t my intention to have my thinkingspell disturbed.”

His gun flashed in his hand.

“I’ll have to ask you to go inside an’occupy one of your own cells, sheriff,while I’m wanderin’ around an’ debatin’the subject.”

“I know you too well, Rathburn,” said thesheriff with a grim smile. “I’m not armed,and I don’t intend to obey you. If youintend to shoot you might just as wellstart!”

Rathburn gazed at him coolly for amoment; then he shoved his gun in itsholster and leaped.

Quick as he was, Long was quicker. Thesheriff was out of his chair in a twinkling,and he made a flying tackle, graspingRathburn about the legs. The two fell to

the floor and rolled over and over in theirstruggles.

Although Rathburn was the larger man, thesheriff seemed made of steel wire. Hetwisted out of Rathburn’s holds, one afteranother. In one great effort he freedhimself and leaped to his feet. Rathburnwas up instantly. Long drove a straightright that grazed Rathburn’s jaw andstaggered him, but Rathburn blocked thenext blow and succeeded in upper-cuttinghis left to the sheriff’s chin.

They went into another clinch, and thesheriff got the better of the close fighting.Rathburn’s face was bleeding, where ithad been cut on a leg of the chair, whenthey were struggling on the floor. The feelof trickling crimson drove him mad. He

threw Long off in an amazing burst ofstrength and then sent his right to thesheriff’s jaw with all the force he couldput into it.

Long dropped to the floor, and Rathburnraised him and carried him to a doorleading into the jail proper. As he drewopen the door, he drew his gun and threwit down on the astonished jailer who wasdozing in the little office outside the bars.

“Open up!” Rathburn commanded.

The jailer hastened to obey, as he saw theappearance of Rathburn’s face and thedangerous look in his eyes.

Rathburn compelled him at the point of hisgun to lead the way to a cell in the rear,unlock it, and go inside. Rathburn pushed

Long, who was regaining his senses, inafter him and took the jailer’s keys.

“Tell Long I’m thinkin’ over what he toldme,” he said to the jailer, as he lockedthem in.

Then he hurried back to the entrance,locked it, and tossed the keys in throughthe bars.

He wet his handkerchief with ice waterfrom a tank in Long’s office, wiped hisface clean, and left the building.

CHAPTER XXXI

A NEW COUNT

As Rathburn wended his way to anobscure restaurant on a side street of thelittle town which was the county seat ofMesquite County, his thoughts were busywith what he had learned from the sheriff.He knew the official had been right whenhe said that it would react in Rathburn’sfavor if he gave himself up. Some of thecounts on which he would be indictedundoubtedly would be quashed; others hemight disprove. There was a chance thathe might get off lightly; in any event he

would have to spend a number of years inprison.

Rathburn looked up at the bright sky. Atthe end of the street he could see thedesert, and far beyond, the blue outlines ofthe mountains. It seemed to him that thesunshine was brighter on this deadlymorning when he struggled with troubledthoughts. Having always lived in the open,liberty meant everything to him.

But constantly his thoughts reverted toLaura Mallory. What did she expect ofhim? What would she think if he were togive himself up? Her talk of thecompass––his conscience––bothered him.Why should she say such a thing if shedidn’t feel more than a friendly interest inhim? Did she care for him then?

Rathburn laughed mirthlessly, as heentered the eating house. There was nodoubt of it––he was a fool. He continuedto think, as he ate; by the time he hadfinished he found himself in a bad mentalstate. He wiped some moisture from hisforehead, as he left the restaurant. For amoment he felt panicky. He was wavering!

The tenor of his thoughts caused him toabandon his caution. He turned the cornerby the State Bank of Hope and walkedboldly down the street. Few pedestrianswere about. None took any special noticeof him, and none recognized him. Heturned in at the resort he had visited whenhe first arrived that morning.

He started, as he entered the place. Adeep frown gathered on his face. Gomez,

Eagen’s Mexican henchman, was at thebar. At first Rathburn feigned ignorance ofthe Mexican’s presence; but Gomezsmiled at him, his white teeth glisteningagainst his swarthy skin.

Rathburn marveled at the audacity of theMexican, who undoubtedly was one ofthose who had held up the stage the daybefore, in coming boldly into town. Thenhe recollected that the sheriff hadmentioned he had an idea of who wasresponsible for that job, but had beenunable to get a line on his man. Eagen andhis gang were evidently well covered up.If such were the case, Eagen himself mightbe in town.

It was because he thought he might learnsomething from Gomez that he finally

acknowledged the fellow’s greeting by anod.

The Mexican left the bar and walked up tohim.

“We are not afraid to come in town, Mr.Coyote,” he murmured.

“Drop that name,” said Rathburn sharplyin an undertone. “Is Eagen here?”

“He is here,” replied Gomez with anotherdisplay of his white teeth. “You want tosee him? He is up talking with Mr.Doane.”

Doane! Rathburn remembered the nameinstantly as being the same which hadbeen spoken by Laura Mallory the nightbefore. He remembered, too, the man whohad been there and who had driven away

to town in the little car. He surmised thatthis man had been Doane; and it had beenhe who had brought the information ofRathburn’s arrival and the posse’s pursuitto the girl.

“You want to see him?” asked Gomezcraftily.

Rathburn had a consuming aversion for thewily Mexican. He hated the shifty look inhis eyes and his oily tongue.

“Not yet,” he answered shortly.

“He will be here maybe,” said Gomezeagerly. “It is you change your mind?”

Rathburn scowled. The Mexican thenknew all about the proposition Eagen hadmade to him the night before. Perhaps hecould get more information from him than

he had suspected.

“What job is it Eagen is planning?” heasked in a low voice.

There were several men at the bar now,and both Rathburn and the Mexican werekeeping an eye upon them.

“Oh, that he will have to tell you himselfwhen you are ready,” Gomez replied.

Rathburn snorted in keen disgust. ButGomez sidled up to him.

“You go to the Mallory rancho last night,”he whispered. “You are not the only onethere last night.” His smile flashed again,as Rathburn looked at him quickly.

“There was another there before,” hecontinued; “Mr. Doane. He goes there,

too. You have been away a long time, andMr. Doane take the advantage.”

Rathburn’s eyes were narrowing, and theMexican evidently took his face for anencouraging sign.

“Mr. Doane––he is not lucky at cards,”continued Gomez. “He like to play, and heplay lots; but not too well. Maybe he havemore luck in love––while you are away.”

“What do you mean?” asked Rathburnthrough his teeth.

“Oh, you do not know?” The Mexicanraised his black brows. “While you areaway, Mr. Doane make hay while the sunshine bright. He was there much. He wasthere last night before you. He tries hardto steal your señorita before you come,

and he will try to keep her now.” Hewinked slyly.

Rathburn suddenly grasped him by thethroat. “What are you tryin’ to say?” heasked sternly, shaking the Mexican like arat.

Gomez broke away, his black eyes dartingfire. “You are a fool!” he exclaimed.“You get nothing. Even your woman, sheis stole right under your eyes. Doane, hegoes there, and he gets her. She fall forhim fast. Then she talks to you with sugarin her mouth, and you believe. Bah! Youthink the Señorita Mallory–––”

Rathburn’s open palm crashed against theMexican’s mouth.

“Don’t speak her name, you greaser!”

Gomez staggered back under the force ofthe slap. His eyes were pin points of fire.He raised his right hand to his mouth andthen to the brim of his sombrero. Hisbreath came in hissing gasps, as the hatredblazed in his glittering eyes.

Rathburn’s face was white under its heavycoating of tan. He saw the few men at thebar turn and look in their direction, and herealized instinctively that these men weregamblers and shady characters who wereprobably friends of Eagen and his gang.

“I give you my regards,” cried Gomez in afrenzy of rage. “You––gringo!”

His right hand tipped his sombrero in alightning move, and there was a flash inthe sunlight filtering through the backwindows, as Rathburn’s gun barked at his

hip.

Gomez crumpled backward to the floor, asthe knife dropped from his grasp at thebeginning of the throw.

Rathburn, still holding his smoking gunready, walked rapidly past the men at thebar and gained the open through the doorat the rear.

CHAPTER XXXII

THE COMPASS FAILS

In the alley behind the buildings frontingon the main street, Rathburn paused inindecision, while he shoved his gun intothe holster on his thigh. He had known bythe look in Gomez’s eyes that he wasgoing to throw a knife. Instinct had causedhim to watch the Mexican’s right hand,and, in the instant when Gomez hadsecured the knife from his hat and snappedback his hand for the throw, Rathburn haddrawn and fired. He knew well thedexterity of a man of Gomez’s stamp with

a knife. The gun route was the only chanceto protect his life. But Rathburn realized,too, that he had shot to kill!

He had been incensed by the Mexican’ssubtle insinuations––maddened by the wayhe leered when he spoke Laura Mallory’sname. He had virtually been driven to it.Even now he could not see how he couldhave avoided it.

Securing his horse, Rathburn rode swiftlyaround a back street to a small barn on theedge of the desert. He ordered his mountwatered and fed. He had known the manwho owned this barn, but the individualwho attended to his horse was a newemployee. He sat in the little front officewhich also served as the quarters of thenight man, while his horse was being

looked after. He had not removed hissaddle.

Rathburn’s thoughts dwelt on what Gomezhad said. There was no question but thatthe Mexican had taken liberties in sayingwhat he did, but there was more than aglimmer of truth in his statements.Rathburn had seen the man leaving LauraMallory on the porch of the Mallory ranchhouse. She had mentioned a man namedDoane as having brought word that he,Rathburn, was back in the country and inmore trouble. Now Gomez had identifiedthis visitor as Doane, the man who hadbeen calling on Laura Mallory regularly.Rathburn’s brows wrinkled at the thought.But why not? What hold had he upon her?It certainly wasn’t within his rights to

resent the fact that another man had foundthe girl attractive. But, to his increasingtorment, he found that he did resent it; hecouldn’t help it!

Suddenly he remembered that Gomez hadsaid Eagen was paying a call on Doane.What could Eagen have to do with Doanewhich would warrant his visiting himearly in the morning? Rathburn recalledthat Gomez had intimated that Doane likedto play cards. Was the man then aprofessional gambler? But no, Gomez hadsaid he did not play well.

Rathburn tried to recollect where he hadseen this man Doane before. The blondface and mustache were vaguely familiar.Again he strove to place the man withoutresult.

He shrugged his shoulders, drew out hisgun, and replaced the empty shell with afresh cartridge. He dropped the weaponback into his holster and went outside tosee about his horse. The dun still wasfeeding. Rathburn contented himself withlooking over his saddle and readjustingthe small slicker pack on its rear. Then hepaced the length of the barn, frowning in athoughtful mood.

There was only one thing he wasreasonably sure of; no one around thetown knew that he was the outlaw knownas The Coyote. He had not seen anybodyhe knew except the sheriff, and thatofficial was safely out of the way for thepresent. Gomez had mentioned his namewhen they had first met, but he had not

been heard save by Rathburn. Therefore,if they were looking for the man who hadshot down Gomez, they were merelylooking for a man measuring up to hisdescription; and Rathburn doubted ifanything would be done until theauthorities had been notified. Visitors tothe sheriff’s office would find Long outand would assume that he had not returnedfrom the chase in the hills. It might beanother hour before the sheriff’spredicament was discovered. And in thathour–––

Rathburn caught himself up with anothershrug. He was falling a prey to his formerhopeless trend of thought. Resentment wasswelling within him again, and hestruggled to put it down. Perhaps it would

be safer to yield to the inclination to take achance on the courts.

It was after nine o’clock when he rode outof the barn. He proceeded straight towardthe main street of the town. He wasstruggling with a half-formed resolve;summoning courage by shutting out allrecollections save that of Laura Mallory’sapparently earnest remark about thecompass.

Reaching the main street, he started to turnthe corner at the bank building when hesuddenly checked his horse and stared attwo people walking up the opposite sideof the street. Rathburn recognized the girlimmediately. She was Laura Mallory. Amoment later he caught a glimpse of theman’s face, as he half turned toward

Rathburn, laughing. He had taken Laura’sarm. It was Doane!

The realization that Laura had come totown and was in the company of Doanestunned Rathburn. More than anything elseit had the effect of convincing him thatGomez had been right when he had hintedthat Doane was successful in love. Hadn’tshe told him to take his gun when Eagenhad been waiting for him? Had shethought, perhaps, that there would be gunplay, and that Eagen might emerge thevictor, thus assuring her that he, Rathburn,would bother her no more?

Rathburn’s eyes narrowed, and his facefroze, as he watched Laura and Doane outof sight up the street. He knew now whyhe had had to come back. There was

nothing left––nothing but his dreams, hissinister reputation, and his gun!

He looked about in a different way fromthat in which he had first surveyed thestreet, now showing life. His gazeencountered the bank building. The doorwas open. The bank doubtless opened atnine o’clock. He remembered that thiswas so. A second of indecision, then hemoved in front of the bank. Hedismounted, flung the reins over the dun’shead, and entered briskly.

Two men were behind the screens of thetwo cages. Rathburn approached awindow and nodded to the man behind it.Then his gun leaped into his hand, and hecovered the pair.

“Reach high an’ hard!” he commanded.

“An’ quick!”

The men in the cages hesitated; but thelook in Rathburn’s eyes convinced them,and they raised their hands over theirheads. Rathburn leaped to the ledgeoutside the window and climbed nimblyover the wire network of the cage. Thenhe dropped to the floor inside.

CHAPTER XXXIII

FAST WORK

Quickly and methodically Rathburn wentabout his work. His face was drawn andpale, but his eyes glittered with a deadlyearnestness which was not lost upon thetwo men who obeyed his orders withoutquestion. The very boldness of hisintrepid undertaking must have convincedthem that here was no common bandit. Heherded them back toward the vault at thepoint of his gun. Then he ordered theminto the vault.

“Now then,” he said crisply, “you know

what I’m after. Trot it out!”

One of the men, evidently an assistantcashier or head teller, who was in charge,opened a compartment of the inner safeand pulled out a drawer. Rathburn couldsee the packages of bills. He lookedquickly about and saw a pile of emptycoin sacks on a shelf.

“Fill two of those large sacks,” heinstructed the other man.

The clerk hastened to carry out his ordersand jammed package after package of billsinto one of the largest of the coin sacks.Both men were white-faced andfrightened. They did not try to delay theproceedings. Rathburn looked dangerous;and what was more sinister, he went abouthis nefarious business in a cool, calm,

confident manner. He did not look like theRathburn who had visited Laura Mallorythe night before, nor the Rathburn who hadtalked with the sheriff. In this criticalmoment he was in look, mood, and gestureThe Coyote at his worst––worthy of allthe terrible things that had been whisperedabout him.

It may be that the bank employeessuspected as much. It may be that theydidn’t believe it would be possible for theoutlaw to make his get-away in broaddaylight, and it was certain that they stoodin mighty fear of him. They cowered back,pale and shaking, as he calmly took thesack, heavy with its weight of bank notesof healthy denomination, and stepped tothe entrance to the big vault.

“When they come an’ let you out,” saidRathburn, “you can tell them that the gentwho helped himself to the berries in thecash box is just beginnin’ to cash in on thereputation that’s been wished on him!”

He smiled grimly, as he swung the light,inner door of the vault shut and clampeddown the lever. He slid his gun into itsholster and, carrying the sack of loot,walked out of the door of the second cagetoward the main entrance of the bank. Ashe reached the door, a man came up thesteps. Rathburn recognized Doane, and hislips curled in a snarl. It was the first timeDoane had come face to face with him, butthe man started back in surprise.

“Rathburn!” he exclaimed.

Rathburn hesitated. His first feeling of

instinctive animosity fled. He scowled ina swift effort to place the man, and thethought that in an indirect way Doane waspartly responsible for what had come topass flashed through his tortured brain.This brought swift comprehension of hisimmediate danger. Now that he had takenthe decisive step he would have to callupon all his resources of courage andcunning to protect his liberty. The die hadbeen cast!

He hurried past Doane, swung into thesaddle, and rode at a swift pace aroundthe corner, leaving Doane standing on thesteps of the bank, staring after him with anexpression of amazement on his face.

Rathburn knew it would be but a matter ofa very few minutes before the knowledge

that the State Bank of Hope had been heldup and robbed––would be commonproperty in the town. The very boldness ofthe robbery had insured its success, fornone would dream that a lone banditwould have the nerve to come into town inbroad daylight, hold up the bank, andattempt to run for it across the open,burning spaces of the desert. But he wasnot aware of the coincidence which wouldmake the news of the robbery knownsooner than he expected.

At the end of the side street he struckboldly across the desert, driving in hisspurs and urging the gallant dun to its topspeed. In a matter of minutes he was out ofview of the town––a speck bobbing amidthe clumps of mesquite, palo verde, and

cactus. He raced for the mountains in thenorthwest.

There was another element of uncertaintywhich entered into the probability of quickpursuit, as he had shrewdly divined. Itmight be some time before the sheriff’spredicament was discovered. Meanwhilemost of the male population was scouringthe vicinity of Imagination Range lookingfor him, and there would be no one to leada second posse until the sheriff wasliberated. There was nothing in sightbehind him toward town except the vistaof dry desert vegetation swimming in theheat. Rathburn rode on with a feeling ofsecurity, so far as trouble from that quarterwas concerned.

His thoughts were in a turmoil, and he

passed a shaking hand over his dampbrow. The resentment had given way togrim decision and determination. Well, hehad shown them what The Coyote coulddo. They would remember that job; theycould lay that at his door. The proceedswould carry him a long way. They hadgiven him his reputation, and he wouldmake the game worth the candle!

The old fierce defiance of misguidedyouth was in his veins. He felt a wildexultation seize him. Doubt and allproblems were set aside. His eyes glowedwith a reckless light, as he raced ontoward the blue hills.

Doane had known him––had called him byname. Therefore Doane knew he was TheCoyote––the outlaw with a price on his

head. So much the better. He wanted themto know!

The sun was at its zenith, as he passedabove the Mallory place. He did not onceturn his head and look down upon it. Hisjaw was squared, his lips pressed tight, ashe guided his horse into the windingfoothills of the range. In a narrow cañonhe dismounted and undid his slicker pack.When he again tied it behind the saddle itcontained the bag which held the banknotes he had taken that morning. Hepushed on in the early afternoon.

He now rode with more caution. The factthat he had not seen any members of theposses which were scouring the hills, heaccredited to ignorance on their part of thefact that he had been at the Mallory ranch

the night before and had gone into town.These things they had hardly had time tolearn. More than likely they had assumedthat he had crossed the mountains, and itwas possible that most of the men on thehunt were on the east side of the range. Hebecame more and more convinced of thisas the afternoon wore on, but he did notrelax his vigilance. His face had clouded.

“We made a mistake, hoss,” he muttered,“in not remembering to hunt up MikeEagen first thing.”

In the quick moves following his suddenmomentous decision, he had forgottenEagen. This fact now bothered him. Hehad a score to settle with Eagen ongeneral principles. This did not mean thathe necessarily would have to shoot Eagen

down; but he wanted Eagen to hearstraight out what he thought of him. Itmight be a long time before he couldgratify that desire after the events of thisday.

Slowly he proceeded, not once venturingupon a high spot until he had investigatedby crawling to a vantage point on hishands and knees. It was sundown when hesaw the first riders. Two were fartherdown the slopes to westward, and severalmore were far to eastward. It was truethen that Long had thrown a cordon aboutthe section of the mountains which he hadbeen seen to enter the day before.

However, Rathburn’s knowledge of therange and the secrets of the mountain trailsgave him a distinct advantage over the

inexperienced members of the posses.True, there were deputies and some otherswho were experienced; but they were inthe minority.

Rathburn realized that the sheriff musthave been released some hours before,and that his escapade of the morningwould stimulate the man hunt. Therewards would be increased, and everyable-bodied man in Hope would doubtlessjoin in the scramble for the reward money.He was satisfied that Sheriff Long’s orderwould be to “shoot on sight!”

On the very crest of the range he paused inthe shelter of the rocks. There still was afair chance for him to get away clean toeastward. The sheriff had not had time toget more men over there, and by making a

break into the southeast and then cuttingstraight to the east, there was a strongpossibility that he would succeed incircling around the posse and effect hisescape.

But something was drawing him to JoePrice! He did not quite understand that itwas the desire to confide in and confess tohis friend what had actuated his choice ofmoral trails. But the yearning was there,and he was yielding to it. He conjecturedshrewdly that Long might not dream thathe would have the temerity again to enterthe very district where he was beingsought. It was his belief that the best placeto hide from a posse was in the midst of it!

It was this confidence, almost as much ashis skill in trailing, which enabled him to

gain a point above Joe Price’s cabin in theearly twilight. He waited patiently untilthe curtain of night had fallen, and thestars had replaced the fading banners ofthe sunset, before he slipped down a steepslope and walked his horse into the cañonbelow the old miner’s abode.

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE COMPASS WAVERS

Joe Price regarded Rathburn with acurious look in his eyes when he beheldhim in the doorway of his cabin. Hestepped swiftly to the one window, whichwas over the table, and dropped theburlap shade. Then he closed the door.

“So they’ve been here?” asked Rathburn.

“What else could you expect?” repliedPrice testily. “They’re combin’ these hillsfor you.” He looked at Rathburn keenly,but Rathburn only smiled.

“That’s not news to me,” he said quietly;“I’ve percolated through their linestwice.”

“Stay here,” said Price, “and I’ll lookafter your horse––or were you hidin’ upall day?”

“No such luck,” answered Rathburngrimly.

The old man looked at him curiously; thenhe went out of the door, closing itcarefully after him.

Rathburn found cold food, put it on thetable, and sat down to eat. When Pricereturned he had finished. The old minersat down in a chair opposite Rathburn.

“Now, out with it,” he said. “Somethinghas happened. I can see it in the way you

look an’ act. What’s up?”

Rathburn carefully rolled a brown-papercigarette, snapped a match into flame, andlit it before he replied. He was halfsmiling.

“I held up the State Bank of Hope thismornin’ an’ extracted a bag of perfectedlygood bills,” he announced. “Didn’t botherwith the counter money. Made ’em serveme from the vault.”

Joe Price’s eyelids did not even flicker.

“Any idear what you got?” he asked.

“Not whatsoever,” replied Rathburncoolly; “but the smallest I saw on top ofthe package was a fifty.”

Price nodded. “You got plenty,” he said.

Rathburn scowled. He had expected somekind of an outbreak––at least aremonstrance from his old friend. Heglanced about uneasily and then glareddefiance at Price.

“It had to come, Joe,” he asserted. “Therewasn’t any way out of it. What’s more, Ikilled that greased pard of Eagen’s,Gomez.”

“How so?” queried Price.

“Well, I’ll tell you, Joe, but I don’t expectit to go any further. He said somethingabout Laura Mallory an’ a man namedDoane, an’ I didn’t like it. I slapped him.Then he went for a knife he had in hishat.”

The old man nodded again. “I see,” he

said simply. “You shot him. Not a badriddance. How did you come to rob thebank, Rathburn?”

Rathburn’s gaze again shifted uneasily.Then he rose with a burning look at Price,walked up and down the slanting length ofthe cabin, and halted before the old miner.

“Joe,” he said in a tremulous voice, “it’sthe last ditch. I can’t get away from it. Ithought I could tell you––an old friend––the whole story, but I can’t, Joe. That’s thedevil of it! There’s something wrong withme. I reckon I’m one of those fellows whojust had everything mapped out for him. Ihad some trouble, Joe, an’ it’s startedsomething––something I can’t control.They had to remember me, an’ I gave themsomething to remember me by!”

“Who do you mean by ‘they,’ Rathburn?”asked the miner.

“Sheriff Long an’ the others,” saidRathburn quickly. “There wasn’t a chancefor me. Why, I was thinking of givingmyself up only this morning. Joe, it ain’t inthe pictures––not after I let Gomez have it.Even after I stopped Gomez I had an ideathat I could face the music. Besides, Joe,there’s more to this than you think. Theycall me The Coyote, an’, Joe, so help me,from now on I am!”

“Did you stop at the Mallory place?”asked Price quietly.

Rathburn did not reply at once. Withagony in his eyes he looked at his oldfriend, and suddenly he bristled:

“I might as well never have gone there,”he flung out. “I see now I wasn’t wanted. Ifound out as much from Gomez. He toldme about Laura’s affair with that fellowDoane. But what could I expect? I wasn’tentitled to no thought from her, an’ Ishould have known as much. I’m just aplain fool––a worse one now than I wasbefore.”

Joe Price’s faded blue eyes glowed withcomprehension.

“You thought Laura had put you off, so yougave in an’ robbed the bank, Rathburn, an’just naturally made a mess of things whenyou had a chance,” said the old manstoutly. “That ain’t actin’ with a lick ofsense. You wasn’t gettin’ square withanybody, an’ you wasn’t doin’ that girl

right by takin’ the word of Gomez.”

“I saw the two of them, her an’ Doane, inHope this morning, walkin’ down thestreet, arm in arm, laughing––probablyover me,” Rathburn replied bitterly. “I’vegot eyes, and I can put two an’ twotogether. I’m only The Coyote with her,and I’ll be The Coyote. She took my gunan’ then gave it back when Mike Eagenshowed up, thinkin’ maybe there’d be gunplay, an’ I’d get mine.”

“Now you shet up!” shrilled Price. “Ireckon you’ve lost all the brains you everdid have? Do you think Laura would keepyour gun, knowin’ there might be trouble,an’ you wouldn’t have any way to protectyourself? Don’t you suppose she knowsyou’re as fast as Eagen? She’s no fool, if

you are. But, if you’ve got to stay the fool,you better be lightin’ out with yourwinnings. An’ you’re not takin’ the bank’smoney, either.”

“What do you mean by that?” scowledRathburn, who had been thoughtful whilehis friend was speaking.

“I had money in that bank, Rathburn, an’so did Mallory, an’ there’s a lot more ofus–––”

“I’ll give you back your money,” Rathburngrowled. “Anyway, they’re protected byinsurance, an’ the insurance people canhunt me till doomsday––I guess.” He wascooling off rapidly.

“Maybe they are,” said Price, “an’ maybethey ain’t. But it ain’t goin’ to help you

none the way you’re goin’ to feel about itlater, no matter who loses it.”

Rathburn was pacing the room, frowning.Twice he started to speak, but the wordsfailed to come. Then he put a question.“Who is this man Doane? He knew me, forI met him when I was comin’ out of thebank, an’ he called me by name.”

“Doane is cashier of the bank down atHope. He was likely just comin’ to workwhen you met him.”

Rathburn stared with an incredulousexpression. “You’re sure?” But even as heput the question, Rathburn placed his man.

“I’m dead certain on it,” declared Price.

Rathburn sat down heavily and took hishat in his hand.

“That makes it different,” he said dully, asif to himself. “Maybe she’s stuck on himfor his money, an’ maybe she’s stuck onhim because he’s a good guy. Maybe thisthing would hurt him.”

“Oh, I don’t think they’d blame him,” saidPrice with a note of consolation in hisvoice; “an’ he probably wouldn’t losenothin’.”

“But she might think––it might be thatshe–––” Rathburn swung his hat to hishead and rose. He walked toward thedoor, but Joe Price got in his way.

“Where you goin’?” he asked.

“To the Mallory ranch!”

“You can’t get there!” said Price hoarsely,pushing him back.

“I’ve got to get there!” answered Rathburngrimly, pushing the old man aside. “I mustsee Laura.”

“You got here just by luck,” Price pointedout. “An’ there’s more men in by now.Maybe they know you’re here. But waittill I get your horse––he’s hid.”

“Get him,” Rathburn commanded.

After a moment’s hesitation Price went outthe door, and he returned almost instantly.He walked to the table and blew out thelight. “Go to the door an’ see,” he urged inan excited voice.

Rathburn hurried out. High on themountain above the cañon a fire wasburning.

“It’s the signal,” Price whispered in his

ear.

“Joe, do me a last favor,” said Rathburn ina queer voice. “Get me my hoss beforeit’s too late!”

The old man obediently slipped into theshadows behind the cabin.

CHAPTER XXXV

GUNS IN THE NIGHT

When Joe Price returned, leadingRathburn’s horse which he had fed andwatered, and turned over the reins, hespoke swiftly in a low voice:

“They’ll be watchin’ hard for you downthe cañon, boy. Bob Long’s sure to meanbusiness this ’ere time.”

“Well, I know it,” said Rathburn with alow, mirthless laugh. “I locked him in hisown jail this mornin’ to get a clean chanceto decide to give myself up. Then, whenthe chance came––well, he surely thinks

now that I put him away to cover mytracks. I expect the boys have got theirshootin’ orders.”

“Listen!” whispered Price excitedly.“Wait till I get my own horse, an’ I’llstrike east across the hump. That’ll start’em after me maybe––sure it will,Rathburn! They’ll think I’m you, see, an’light right out after me.”

Rathburn laid one hand on the old man’sshoulder and put the other over Joe’smouth.

“Joe, you’re all excited––plumbunreasonable excited. You know Iwouldn’t let you do that. Now don’t handme more worries than I’ve got. Be good,Joe.” He patted Price’s shoulder, thenswung into the saddle.

The old miner looked up at him, his faceshowing strangely white in the dimstarlight, pierced by the fire on the peak.

“I didn’t tell ’em you’d been here, Roger;don’t forget that!”

“I knew that, Joe,” Rathburn chuckled.“So long.”

Swiftly he rode down the little meadowbelow the spring into the deep shadows ofthe cañon which led down a steep trail tothe desert. Presently he checked his paceuntil he was walking the gallant dun. Hewished to avoid as much noise aspossible, and to save the horse for a finalspurt down nine miles of desert to theMallory ranch from the mouth of thecañon––providing he got out.

For two reasons he had deliberatelychosen this route: it was shortest, and itoffered the best going. He must save thedun’s strength. Rathburn knew the limits ofhis splendid mount; knew they had almostbeen reached; knew there was just enoughleft in the horse to make the ranch withoutkilling him. The Coyote would surrenderbefore he would kill his horse to effect hisescape or gain an objective!

Thus they slipped down the narrow cañon,with the desert stars gleaming white abovethe lava hills of Imagination Range, whilethe fire glowed on the peak above JoePrice’s cabin. Rathburn’s face was paleunder his tan; his thoughts were in aturmoil, but his lips were pressed into afine line that denoted an unwavering

determination. Had Sheriff Bob Long seenhis face at this time he might haveglimpsed another angle of Rathburn’smany-sided character––an angle whichwould have given him pause.

Rathburn looked behind, and his eyesnarrowed. Two fires were burning on thepeak.

Already the watchers were cognizant ofhis latest move and were signaling tothose who might be below. He wonderedvaguely why they had not surrounded JoePrice’s cabin while he had been there.Then he realized he had been there hardlylong enough for his pursuers to get there inany number. Suddenly his thoughts werebroken into by a streak of red in the cañondepths below him. He swerved close

against the rock wall, drew his gun, and,speaking to the dun, drove in his spurs.

A short distance below he could see thefaint glow of the starlight night and knewhe was near the cañon’s mouth. Therewere more streaks of red, and bulletswhistled past him. Then Rathburn raisedhis gun and sent half its deadly contentscrashing down into the trail ahead.

There followed a few moments of quiet,broken only by the harsh, ringing pound ofhis mount’s hoofs. Rathburn could seeopen country just ahead. Then a flash offire came from almost under him, and thebig dun lunged into the air, half twisting,and came down upon some object underits hoofs. The dun bounded on in greatleaps, literally flying through the air, as

Rathburn thrilled with the knowledge thatthe horse had knocked down the man whohad sought to kill him.

From above came sharp reports, and theblackness of the high cañon walls wasstreaked with spurts of flame. Leadendeath hurled itself into the rock trailbehind him. Then he was out of the cañon,riding like mad through the white desertnight toward his goal––the Mallory ranch!

Laura Mallory stood on the porch of thelittle ranch house, staring out across thedimly lit spaces of desert. A worried lookappeared in her eyes. The front door wasopen, and in the small sitting room herfather was reading under a shaded lamp atthe table. At times the worried look in the

girl’s eyes would change to one ofwistfulness, and twice the tears welled.

Presently she straightened and listenedintently, looking into the south instead ofnorthwest. Her ears, keen as are those ofthe desert born, had caught a sound––asuccession of faint sounds––in the stillnight air. Gradually the sound becamemore and more distinct, and the worriedexpression of her face increased. Shehurried into the sitting room.

“Father, Fred Doane is coming out fromtown,” she said breathlessly. “Do yousuppose they’ve got him?”

“Maybe so, girlie,” said the old man. “Itwas a bold business, an’ what could youexpect?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I can’t seem tounderstand. All this trouble is coming sosuddenly. Father, are you sure you heardRoger refuse to aid that man Eagen insome shady scheme last night?”

“Ab-so-lutely,” declared Mallory. “I’vebeen wondering, daughter, if he didn’t turnEagen down because he had this schemeof his own.”

The purr of a motor came to them fromoutside, and Laura, hastily wiping hereyes with a small handkerchief, wentslowly out.

“Laura!” cried Fred Doane, as he came upthe steps, holding out his hands.

“What––what is it, Fred?” she faltered.“Have they caught–––”

“Not yet,” said Doane briskly, as Malloryappeared in the door. “An’ they probablywon’t get him. He’s clever, that fellow.”

The bank cashier indulged in a frown, buthe was plainly nervous.

“Then what news do you bring here?”Mallory demanded. “Did you come to tellus he’d got away clean?”

“Why, not––not exactly,” said Doane. “Imeant to tell you that, of course, but I alsowant to have a little talk with Laura. Can Isee you alone, Laura, for a few minutes?”

“Oh, that’s it,” snorted Mallory, as hestamped back into the house.

“You have something to tell me you don’twant father to hear?” asked the girl in aworried voice.

“Laura, there’s something I must tell youright away,” said Doane nervously,leading her to the shadow of the far end ofthe porch. There he turned and faced her,taking her hands.

“Laura, you must have seen it for a longtime. You could hardly help but see it. Ilove you, Laura––I love you with all myheart, and I want you to be my wife.”

The girl drew back in astonishment.

“But why do you have to tell me this sosuddenly?” she asked, her color comingand going.

“Because I want you to marry me, Laura,to-night!” he said.

Again he reached for her hands. “Please,Laura,” he pleaded. “It means so much to

me. Don’t you care for me, sweetheart?I’ve been led to think you did, and Iintended to tell you soon, but all thistrouble––this terrible trouble to-day––hasnearly driven me mad. I’m afraid I’ll gomad, Laura, if I don’t have something elseto think about. Oh, Laura, marry me andhelp me out of this big trouble.”

“Fred!” exclaimed the girl, startled by hispassion of pleading. “Fred, I’ve nevertried to make you think I cared for you.And now––well, I’d have to have a longtime to think it over. How would it helpyou out of trouble, Fred? Tell me that.”

“By helping me forget––by helping meforget that our bank is ruined! By savingmy mind! By keeping me from going mad!By–––”

“Fred you must not talk so. That robberyhas unnerved you for the time being, that’sall. You’re excited and so–––”

“I’m more than excited,” he declared,trying to put his hands on her shoulders.“I’m about––about––gone! Laura, marryme to-night, and we’ll go somewhere––we’ll go somewhere right from here, fromthis ranch––go a long way and get marriedin the morning. Then we can stay away fora short time till I get to be myself again.”

“No, Fred,” replied the girl in convincingtones, “I can’t. It would be asking toomuch even if I loved you. Come inside,and I’ll make you some strong tea. Youcan talk to father and me and regaincontrol of yourself.”

There was a moment of silence. Mallory

with the lamp had come to the door at thesound of Doane’s loud voice. He waslooking at them. Then out of the night camethe pound of hoofs. There was nomistaking the sound.

Doane whirled around, as a rider cameout of the sea of mesquite and greasewoodand flung himself from the saddle in frontof the porch. The bank cashier turnedtoward Mallory. His face was haggard.He seemed to sway, as the rider camestamping up the steps. He darted for thedoor, but had hardly got inside before therider caught him and made him face about.Mallory hurried in with the lamp,followed by the girl.

Doane was quailing before the newarrival. Both cried out, as they saw it was

Eagen who had broken out so suddenly.Eagen towered above the shrinkingDoane.

“So you thought you’d double cross me,did you, eh?” came Eagen’s harsh voice,and he slapped Doane in the face.

Doane went red, then white. For a momentintense hatred and anger flashed in hiseyes, but he made no move to avenge theinsult. Slowly the light in his eyes diedagain to fear, as he realized his inability tocope with this man of strength.

“Here, Eagen, you can’t come into myhouse and act like that,” said Mallorystoutly, putting the lamp on the table.

Laura still stood in the doorway, stunnedby the rapid and extraordinary turn of

events. Eagen turned on Mallory with asnarl.

“Shut up, you old fool! Don’t butt inwhere you ain’t wanted, an’ on somethingyou don’t know anything about.”

“I know you’re in my house!” Malloryretorted sternly.

“I’ll only be here a minute,” said Eagenwith a sneer. “I’m goin’ out of your house,an’ I’m goin’ to drag this sneaking cur outwith me––out on the solid ground an’ givehim what’s comin’ to him. An’ then,” headded in a terrible voice; “I’m goin’ to goout an’ get his pardner––Rathburn, TheCoyote––get him when the others can’tcome within a mile of him!”

“You can’t take this man out of my house

when he is my guest!” thundered Mallory.

“No?” asked Eagen contemptuously.“Well, you watch an’ see! If you try tostop me you’ll stop lead!”

He leaped forward and grasped Doane bythe shoulder, jerked him forward, andstepped backward himself. He turned,dragging his victim, then stopped dead inhis tracks with a hissing intake of breath.Rathburn was standing quietly in thedoorway.

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE LOOT

In the heat of the threats and counterthreatswhich had been in progress, none of theoccupants of the room had heard thenewest arrival thunder up to the porch andleap from the saddle to the steps.

Eagen was dumfounded by Rathburn’ssudden appearance. He saw that the girlwas standing now in a front corner of theroom, with her hands crossed on herbreast, a look of horror in her eyes.Slowly Eagen recovered and loosed hishold on Doane, who staggered weakly to

the table and leaned upon it. Eagen’s sneerreturned to his thick lips, and hisnarrowed gaze traveled quickly to a sackwhich Rathburn held in his left hand.Eagen’s eyes shone with fury.

“Come here to fix up the divvy!” hechoked. “I knew it was a put-up jobbetween you an’ Doane, an’ I figuredyou’d maybe meet aroun’ here whereDoane would be sure to come to try an’take this woman with him.”

Rathburn eyed him calmly. There wassomething of a deadly calm in his veryposture, as he stood just within thethreshold. He looked past Eagen to Doane.Then he tossed the sack on the table.

“Here’s the money I took this morning,Doane,” he said in matter-of-fact tones. “I

came here to turn it over to you.”

With bulging eyes Doane stared at him.

Eagen laughed loudly. “That’s rich! Tryin’to make me think you was goin’ to give itall to him? Don’t you figure, Mr. Coyote,that I can throw my rope aroun’ a simplescheme like you an’ that shivering rat overby the table cooked up? That’s why youturned down my little proposition lastnight. It was this same deal––only, me, an’Doane there was goin’ to put it over. Youfigured I’d cut you out of your divvy, an’you figured right; he suspected I mightdouble cross him, an’ maybe he was right,too. So he cooked it up with you to pullthe robbery, thinkin’ you’d be more likelyto go through an’ give him his end. But thepair of you figured too many points when

you thought I wouldn’t catch on.”

“That was what your proposition was tobe, was it?” asked Rathburn pleasantly.“Rob the bank? Why, I didn’t need a gangto rob the bank, Eagen, an’ I didn’t haveanybody in with me. The trouble with youis that you’ve got too much imagination.”

The drawl in which Rathburn concludedhis speech drove Eagen to a frenzy.

“You lie, Rathburn!”

Rathburn smiled. “I might as well tell youthat I intended to get away with that moneythat’s on the table, Eagen. That’s what Itook it for. I’m making this little statementbecause something’s liable to happen toone, or both of us. I didn’t know Doanewas cashier of the bank when I took it. I

only recently learned that fact. Then Ibrought it back to turn over to him, not somuch on his account as on account of MissMallory. I understand Doane is a verygood friend of Miss Mallory. I wouldn’twant his bank hurt for that reason.”

It was Laura Mallory who cried out atthis. She walked toward Rathburn,although he did not look at her.

“Why did you do it, Roger?” she asked ina trembling voice.

“I can’t tell you that, ma’am,” he said.

“But I know!” she cried. “I’ve guessed it.You saw Mr. Doane and me together inHope to-day and remembered he was atthe ranch last night, and–––”

“Don’t say any more, Laura!” Rathburn

commanded sternly.

“Be still, daughter; it’s best,” saidMallory.

“Neither she, nor you, nor Doane, nor allof you together can talk me out of it!”roared Eagen. “It was a frame-up!”

In the deadly stillness that followed, LauraMallory shrank back from the sight of twogunmen looking steadily into each other’seyes, their hands ready for the lightningdraw––each waiting for the merestsuggestion of the beginning of a move onthe part of the other to get his weapon intoaction. But the draws did not come. Thepregnant silence was broken by thethundering roll of many horses gallopinginto the yard about the house.

“There!” yelled Eagen in a voice oftriumph. “There’s your sweet little posse,Coyote!”

“I expected to see Bob Long when I camedown here!” said Rathburn coolly, lookingat Laura Mallory for the first time.

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE TEST OF A MAN

Several men stamped across the porch tothe jingle of spur chains. Others broke inthrough the back door and entered thekitchen. Sheriff Bob Long appeared at thedoor, with two guns leveled.

“You’re covered from both doors and allthe windows, Rathburn!” he said sharply.

“That’s almost just what I thought,sheriff,” Rathburn drawled.

Long stepped into the room, shoving hisguns into their holsters. Many other guns

were covering Rathburn.

“What’s the meaning of all this, anyway?”demanded Long with a puzzled expressionon his face. His eyes widened, as he sawthe bag of money on the table. “Is that themoney that was taken from your bank thismorning Mr. Doane?” he asked sharply.

Doane nodded weakly. The sheriff lookedat Rathburn curiously.

“You brought it back? You was up to JoePrice’s place.”

“Yes, I brought it back, sheriff,” saidRathburn cheerfully.

“Well, I’ll be frank and tell you, Rathburn,that if you expect leniency after whathappened this morning you might just aswell give up that idea. Any man can

change his mind when he sees he can’t getaway.”

“That’s up to you, sheriff,” repliedRathburn, taking tobacco and papers fromhis shirt pocket. “As I was just tellin’ ourfriend, Mr. Eagen, I brought it back onpurpose, an’ I expected to see you when Igot here. I came near not gettin’ here atthat.”

“You took a long chance,” scowled Long.“But it won’t get you much now at thisstage of the game––especially after theway you led me to believe this morningthat you were thinking of giving yourselfup.”

Eagen’s laugh startled them.

“He brought it back to give it up an’

himself, too?” he jeered. “He brought itback, sheriff, because he an’ that rat of aDoane planned this thing. Coyote got awaywith the money an’ came back here todivvy up with Doane. Didn’t Doane makethe same kind of a proposition to me?Didn’t he tell me he was short in hisaccounts, an’ it could be covered up if thebank was robbed, for then he could saymore money was took than really was? I’llsay he did. An’ I was goin’ to see if he’dgo through with it, an’ then I was going towise you up so we could get him cold.”

With knitted brows the sheriff stared atEagen, then looked at the white-facedDoane.

“Tell him I’m tellin’ the truth!” shoutedEagen at the shaking bank cashier. “You

can’t get out of it.”

There was a tense moment.

Doane shook his head weakly; he was apicture of guilt.

“He got scared I wouldn’t go through withthe play, sheriff,” Eagen continued.“Thought maybe I’d make off with all thekale. So he framed it with Rathburn, an’ Icaught ’em about to divide it here.”

“He lies!” screamed Doane. “I didn’tframe it with Rathburn. I can prove it.That man”––he pointed a shaking finger atEagen––“has come to me with threats andmade me take securities I knew werestolen. There’s some of them in the banknow. Some of the stuff he took from thestage driver yesterday is there! He’s

pulled job after job–––”

Eagen, recovering from his amazement atthe man’s outbreak, leaped and drove hispowerful fist against Doane’s jaw,knocking him nearly the length of theroom, where he crashed with his headagainst the stones of the fireplace. Eagenturned quickly. His eyes were blazing red.

“You’re the man!” he yelled wrathfully.“You’re the yellow Coyote–––”

His right hand went to his gun, as therecame a crashing report. He staggeredback, trying to get out the weapon whichhad not left his holster. He sank down tohis knees, still glaring death at the manabove him, still fumbling at his gun. Thenhe lurched forward on his face.

Rathburn flipped his smoking pistol sothat its barrel landed in his hand. Then hetendered it, butt foremost, to Sheriff BobLong. Long took it and threw it on thetable, looking first at Rathburn, then at thedead man on the floor. He waved towardthe doors and windows.

“You boys can draw back,” he ordered.

Mallory stepped to the fallen Doane. Theman’s face had set in a white cast. He felthis heart.

“He did for him,” he said, rising.

Laura Mallory came walking slowly up tothe sheriff. Her face was ghastly afterwhat she had witnessed.

“Sheriff Long,” she said in a voicestrangely calm, “we heard Eagen”––she

shuddered, as she mentioned thename––“ask Roger––ask Mr. Rathburnlast night to help with some job that wouldget them a lot of money. It may be that––that––Fred did plan such a thing. I’m sorryto say it, but Fred had seemed awfullynervous lately, and to-night he came to meand asked me to run away with him––atonce. He seemed horribly afraid ofsomething. Anyway, Roger refused to goin with Eagen, and an examination ofFred’s books will tell all.”

She hesitated. Then she spoke slowly andsoftly.

“I know why Roger robbed the bankand–––”

“Stop, Laura!” cried Rathburn.

“No,” said Laura firmly; “you may begoing to prison.”

He put out one hand in protest.

Turning again to the sheriff she said:

“Roger did go to town last night, intendingto give himself up. I knew he was going todo it by the way he looked at me. But to-day he saw me with Mr. Doane, andmaybe he’s heard things for which therewas no warrant. Anyway, I know hethought I––I––was in love with Fred.”

“Laura––please!” Rathburn pleaded.

“And to-night,” said the girl in triumph,“he heard Fred was cashier of the bankhe’d robbed, and he brought the moneyback because he thought the robberywould hurt Fred and in that way hurt me!”

Rathburn turned appealingly to the sheriff.“Let’s go,” he urged.

“He robbed that bank because he thought Ihad betrayed his trust, Sheriff Long!”cried Laura, her eyes shining.

“Are we going, Long?” cried Rathburn inan agony.

The sheriff stepped to the door and calledto some of his men who entered and borethe bodies of Doane and Eagen out of thesitting room. Then he took the money sackfrom the table and indicated to Rathburn tofollow him, as he went out of the door.Rathburn went after him quickly, and thegirl ran to the porch. Rathburn drew backwith a cry, as he reached the porch. Justbeyond the steps a horse was lying on itsside.

“My––my hoss!” he cried wonderingly.

He leaped down beside the dead beast.Then he saw crimson upon the animal’sshoulder, as a little gleam of light camefrom the door.

“That was why he jumped on the trail. Hewas hit. He carried me all this way with abullet in him an’ then dropped! One ofLong’s men shot him.”

Rathburn looked about vacantly. Then hesank down and buried his face on theshoulder of the dun, as Sheriff Long turnedaway. Laura Mallory stepped quickly tothe side of the sheriff and touched his arm.

“Is he as bad as you think, sheriff?”

Long scowled at her in the dim light fromthe door, took out a thick, black cigar, bit

the end off savagely, and began to chew it.He walked abruptly out to where some ofhis men were standing by their horses, andhe said something in an undertone. Whenhe returned, Rathburn had taken the saddleand bridle off the dead horse and wasthrowing the leather on the porch.

“Yours, dad,” he called to Mallory; “Iwouldn’t use ’em again if I could.” Thenhe turned to the sheriff. “All right, Bob.”

“Come inside,” said Long gruffly.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

TEN MILES’ START

When they were in the sitting room thesheriff confronted Rathburn.

“This has been a queer case for me,” hesaid slowly, with an attempt at harshness.“I knew Eagen was up to a lot of dirtywork, but I never could fasten anything onhim till to-night. I’ll get some of the rest ofthe gang now. Doane showed in his facethat he was guilty. Those things don’tworry me none. But you are the hardestcharacter I ever had to handle, Rathburn!”

“I don’t figure on givin’ you any more

trouble, sheriff,” Rathburn assured him,smiling.

“That’s the puzzle of it!” Long exploded.“That puts it up to me. I know you hadreason for giving Gomez his, and I knowthis girl wouldn’t lie about the other.But––well, I don’t get you a-tall,Rathburn, and that’s a fact. Something tellsme I’ve got to give you a chance, and if Iknew what tells me this I’d wring itsneck!”

He stepped close to Rathburn and lookedhim straight in the eye.

“Take one of Mallory’s horses. He’s gotsome good ones. I give you ten miles inany direction. If you can make it––it’syour candy. But remember, Rathburn, I’mgoing to try to stop you!”

He walked swiftly out of the door, leavingRathburn staring at the smiling girl.

Laura stepped close to him and nodded.Rathburn shook his head.

“I can’t see where I’ve got the right togive Long any more trouble.”

“But he isn’t letting you go, Roger. He’sputting it up to you, and he means what hesays when he declares he’ll try to getyou.”

“If he does, he’ll probably get me,” musedRathburn.

“But maybe he won’t get us, Roger.”

“Us?”

“You and I, Roger. Listen! There’s a land’way up north, Roger. I’ve read about it.

It’s past the desert and the mountains andthe plains––in another country! Andthere’s a river there, Roger––a river theycall Peace River. I’ve always loved thename. We’ll go there, Roger, you and I––and father can come later.”

She looked up at him with shining eyesand put her arms about his neck, and shesaw the unbelievable wonder in his face.The man trembled. Then he took her andheld her and kissed her, time after time.

“Joe Price said I could never be satisfiedaway from the desert unless I took alongsomething that was of it,” he mutteredhoarsely; “I wonder–––”

“Yes, Roger, he meant me.”

“We can’t make it,” he said softly. “Not

the two of us––but Laura, girlie, this isworth the game!”

“Yes we can, Roger,” she said eagerly.“Think! We can be married when we’veleft the desert. It’s not quite ten miles toBoxall Cañon. We can go up Boxall overthe range and cross Death Flat.”

“I was thinking of that, sweetheart,” hereplied. “But no horse can get up Boxall,an’ if he did he couldn’t get across DeathFlat. Few men have crossed that stretch.It’s well named. I might try it alone; butyou––no, Laura. It just ain’t in thepictures!”

“We don’t need horses, Roger. You’veforgotten the burros. They’ll kill any horseon the desert, won’t they? We can taketwo or three loaded with food and water.”

“But it’s miles and miles an’ then some––an’ it all looks alike.”

“But when we’ve reached the other side,Roger?”

He drew away from her and stepped to thedoor. He could not see or hear anything.When he turned and again approached her,his face was white. He looked at Mallory,who was standing with a look ofstupefaction on his lined face.

“Wait!” he said and stepped into anotherroom. In a few moments he was back,holding a money belt in his hands. He tookout gold and bills and deposited themoney on the table.

The others stared.

“There’s about six thousand there,

Mallory. It’s gamblin’ money. Turn it in tothe bank to make or help out Doane’sshortage. I’ve got just twenty-five hundredleft which I earned in a better way.”

“Daddy, get the burros!” cried the girl.“We’re going!”

Sheriff Bob Long looked down from aledge above a narrow, deep, boulder-strewn, awe-inspiring cañon and drew inhis breath sharply. Below he saw twohuman beings and three animals.

“I knew he’d try it,” Long saidwonderingly to himself. “I thought he’d tryit afoot. But the girl! And they’re going totry to cross Death Flat!”

His look of wonder increased, and hemade no move toward the weapons in his

holsters.

“I wonder now,” he mused. “Can theymake it? I wonder–––”

He scowled and looked about with afrowning stare. His gaze again shifteddownward. Suddenly he shrugged and putthe wrong end of his unlighted cigar in hismouth.

“That’s the queerest cigar I ever had,” hegrowled, as he made his way to his horse.“It won’t stay lit because it wants to beswallowed.”

He mounted and rode slowly back towardthe far-reaching stretches of desert. Oncehe halted and turned in his saddle for abackward look.

“He had the makings of the worst bad man

this country ever saw,” he muttered aloud.“Now, if that woman and anothercountry––but first they’ve got to getacross.”

On the western edge of a great, ghastlyplain of white, in which a deceiving,distant glow was mirrored in the desertdawn, two figures, a man and a girl, stoodhand in hand. Three shaggy burros,heavily laden, stood behind them. Theburros saw not the Death Flat ahead, forthey were asleep.

And the man and the girl saw not thefrightful white, as of powdered skulls,bare, sinister, sunbaked, but a vision of alittle house in a fragrant green meadow,with golden fields on either side of a

peaceful river, and forests ranging up todistant hills.

THE END

TO THE READER

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