Returning the Colt to her, he slowly dragged his glance from the ground and let it cross her face for a fleeting instant.  She slipped the gun back into its holster.

“And now suppose we go down the hill and get your hoss?”

Evidently he was painfully eager to get the dead man out of sight.  Yet he paused while he picked up her saddle.

“They’ll be along pretty pronto—­the sheriff and his men.  They’ll take care of—­him.”

Leading the way down to her hobbled horse he saddled it swiftly, while she stood aside and watched.  When he was done he turned to her.

“Maybe we better be starting.  It wouldn’t come in very handy for Kern to find us here, eh?”

Obediently she came.  With one hand he held the stirrup, while the other steadied her weight by the elbow, as she raised her foot.  In spite of herself she shivered at his touch.  A moment later, from the saddle, she was looking down into a darkly crimsoned face.  Plainly he had understood that impulse of aversion, but he said nothing.

There was a low neigh from the other side of the hill in answer to his soft whistle, and then out of the trees came a beautifully formed roan mare, with high head and pricking ears.  With mincing steps she went straight to her master, and Jig saw the face of the other brighten.  But he was gloomy again by the time he had swung into the saddle.

“Now,” he said, “where away?”

“You’re coming with me?” she asked, with a new touch of alarm.  She regretted her tone the moment she had spoken.  She saw Arizona wince.

“Lady,” he said, “suppose I come clean to you?  I been in my time about everything that’s bad.  I ain’t done a killing except squarely.  Sinclair taught me that.  And you got to allow that what I done to Sandersen was after I give him all the advantage in the draw.  I took even chances, and I give him better than an even break.  Ain’t that correct?”

She nodded, fascinated by the struggle in his face between pride and shame and anger.

“Worse’n that,” he went on, forcing out the bitter truth.  “I been everything down to a sharp with the cards, which is tolerable low.  But I got this to say:  I’m playing clean with you.  I’ll prove it before I’m done.  If you want me to break loose and leave you alone, say the word, and I’m gone.  If you want me to stay and help where I can help, say the word, and I stay and take orders.  Come out with it!”

Gathering his reins, he sat very straight and looked her fairly and squarely in the eye, for the first time since he had discovered the truth about Cold Feet.  In spite of herself Jig found that she was drawn to trust the fat man.  She let a smile grow, let her glance become as level and as straight as his own.  She reined her horse beside his and stretched out her hand.

“I know you mean what you say,” said Jig.  “And I don’t care what you have been in the past.  I do need a friend—­desperately.  Riley Sinclair says that a friend is the most sacred thing in the world.  I don’t ask that much, but of all the men I know you are the only one who can help me as I need to be helped.  Will you shake hands for a new start between us?”