“It don’t make any difference since when!  The fact is, I’m running it, now—­that is, to the extent that I’ll be damned if you’re going to stay behind and rot in this God-forsaken inferno, while I ride to safety on your horse.”

The smile died from the cowboy’s face:  “It ain’t that, Win.  I guess you don’t savvy, but I do.  She’s yours, man.  Take her an’ go!  There was a while that I thought—­but, hell!”

“I’m not so sure of that,” Endicott replied.  “Only yesterday, or the day before, she told me she could not choose—­yet.”

“She’ll choose,” answered Tex, “an’ she won’t choose—­me.  She ain’t makin’ no mistake, neither.  By God, I know a man when I see one!”

Endicott stepped forward and shook his fist in the cowboy’s face:  “It’s the only chance.  You can do it—­I can’t.  For God’s sake, man, be sensible!  Either of us would do it—­for her.  It is only a question of success, and all that it means; and failure—­and all that that means.  You know the country—­I don’t.  You are experienced in fighting this damned desert—­I’m not.  Any one of a dozen things might mean the difference between life and death.  You would take advantage of them—­I couldn’t.”

“You’re a lawyer, Win—­an’ a damn good one.  I wondered what your trade was.  If I ever run foul of the law, I’ll sure send for you, pronto.  If I was a jury you’d have me plumb convinced—­but, I ain’t a jury.  The way I look at it, the case stands about like this:  We can’t stay here, and there can’t only two of us go.  I can hold out here longer than you could, an’ you can go just as far with the horses as I could.  Just give them their head an’ let them drift—­that’s all I could do.  If the storm lets up you’ll see the Split Rock water-hole—­you can’t miss it if you’re in sight of it, there’s a long black ridge with a big busted rock on the end of it, an’ just off the end is a round, high mound—­the soda hill, they call it, and the water-hole is between.  If you pass the water-hole, you’ll strike the Miszoo.  You can tell that from a long ways off, too, by the fringe of green that lines the banks.  And, as for the rest of it—­I mean, if the storm don’t let up, or the horses go down, I couldn’t do any more than you could—­it’s cashin’ in time then anyhow, an’ the long, long sleep, no matter who’s runnin’ the outfit.  An’ if it comes to that, it’s better for her to pass her last hours with one of her own kind than with—­me.”

Endicott thrust out his hand:  “I think any one could be proud to spend their last hours with one of your kind,” he said huskily.  “I believe we will all win through—­but, if worse comes to worst——­ Good Bye.”

“So Long, Win,” said the cowboy, grasping the hand.  “Wake her up an’ pull out quick.  I’ll onhobble the horses.”

CHAPTER XVIII

“WIN”

Alice opened her eyes to see Endicott bending over her.  “It is time to pull out,” said the man tersely.