“Well, then, you got to help me through with this here, like I helped you through when you stole Fatty’s horse.”  The half-breed nodded and Tex continued:  “When that outfit goes up against the Wolf River hooch you can bet someone’s going to leak it out that there wasn’t no reg’lar bony-fido hangin’ bee.  That’ll start a posse, an’ that’s why we got to stay cached good an’ tight till this kind of blows over an’ gives us a chance to slip acrost the Misszoo.  Even if it don’t leak out, an’ any one should happen to spot the pilgrim, that would start a posse, pronto, an’ we’d get ours for helpin’ him to elope.”

“’Spose dey git de pilgrim,” persisted the half-breed, “de, w’at you call, de jury, dey say ’turn ‘um loose’ ’cause he keel dat Purdy for try to——­”

Tex hurled his cigarette into the blaze.  “You’re a damn smart Injun, ain’t you?  Well, you just listen to me.  I’m runnin’ this here little outfit, an’ there’s reasons over an’ above what I’ve orated, why the pilgrim is goin’ to be treated to a good lib’ral dose of the rough stuff.  If he comes through, he’ll stack up pretty close to a top hand, an’ if he don’t—­” The Texan paused and scowled into the fire.  “An’ if he don’t it’s his own damn fault, anyhow—­an’ there you are.”

The half-breed nodded, and in the dark eyes the Texan noted a half-humorous, half-ominous gleam; “Dat, w’at you call, ’reason over an’ ‘bove’, she damn fine ‘oman.  A’m t’ink she lak’ de pilgrim more’n you.  But mebbe-so you show heem up for w’at you call, de yellow, you git her ‘way, but—­me, A’m no lak’ I see her git harm.”  With which declaration the half-breed rose abruptly and busied himself with the horses, while the Texan, without bothering to spread his blankets, pulled his hat over his face and stretched out beside the fire.

CHAPTER XI

A RESCUE

When Alice Marcum opened her eyes the timber was in darkness.  The moon had not yet topped the divide and through an opening in the trees the girl could see the dim outlines of an endless sea of peaks and ridges that stretched away to the eastward.  The voice of the Texan sounded in her ears:  “Come alive, now!  We got to eat an’ pull out of here in an hour’s time if we’re goin’ to fetch the bad lands by daylight.”

Peering around the edge of her shelter tent she could see him, coffee-pot in hand, standing beside the tiny flame that licked at the dry pine shavings of a newly kindled fire.

He turned and made his way to the creek that burbled over the rocks a short way down the ravine and Alice drew on her riding-boots and joined Endicott who had made his way painfully toward the fire where he stood gazing ruefully at the begrimed wreck of a white collar which he held in his hand.  The Texan returned and placed the coffee-pot close against the tiny blaze.