Bat Lajune grinned into the dark as the galloping cow-horse carried Endicott out upon the trail of Purdy and the girl.  “A’m t’ink dat wan good job.  Mebbe-so de pilgrim keel Purdy, bien!  Mebbe-so Purdy keel de pilgrim, den de sheriff ketch Purdy an’ she got for git hang—­dat pret’ good, too.  Anyhow, Tex, she don’ got for bodder ’bout keel Purdy no mor’.  Tex kin keel him all right, but dat Purdy she damn good shot, too.  Mebbe-so she git de drop on Tex.  Den afterwards, me—­A’m got to fool ‘roun’ an’ keel Purdy, an’ mebbe-so A’m hang for dat, too.  Wat de hell!”

A man rode up to the corral and tied his horse to the fence.  The half-breed drew into the shadow.  “Dat Sam Moore,” he muttered.  “She dipity sher’ff, an’ she goin’ try for git ’lect for de beeg sher’ff dis fall.  Mebbe-so she lak’ for git chanct for ‘rest som’one.  A’m goin’ see ’bout dat.”  He stepped to the side of the man, who started nervously and peered into his face.

“Hello, Bat, what the devil you doin’ prowlin’ around here?  Why hain’t you in dancin’?”

The half-breed shrugged:  “Me, A’m no lak’ for dance mooch.  She don’ do no good.  Anyhow, A’m hont ‘roun’ for fin’ you.  A’m t’ink mebbe-so you better com’ ‘long wit’ me.”

“Come along with you!  What’s on yer mind?” Suddenly the man straightened:  “Say, look a here, if you’re up to helpin’ Tex Benton pull off any gag on me, you’ve picked the wrong hand, see!”

The other shook his head vigorously:  “Non!  Tex, she goin’ in de dance-hall.  She don’ know nuthin’ ’bout w’at A’m know.”

“What you drivin’ at?  Come on, spit ‘er out!  I hain’t a-goin’ to fool ‘round here all night an’ miss the dancin’.”

Bat stepped closer:  “Two mans an’ wan ‘oman gon’ up de trail.  A’m t’ink som’one goin’ for git keel.  Mebbe-so we better gon’ up an’ see ’bout dat.”

“You’re crazy as hell!  The trail’s free, hain’t it?  What business I got hornin’ in on ’em?  I come to town for to take in the dance, an’ I’m a-goin’ to.  Besides it’s a good chanct to do a little ’lectioneerin’.”  Once more Bat shrugged, and turning away, began to untie his horse.

“Four Ace Johnson, over ‘crost de riv’, she dipity sher’ff, too.  A’m hear she goin’ run for de beeg sher’ff, nex’ fall.  A’m gon’ over an’ see if she no lak’ to go ‘long an’ mak’ de arres’ if som’ting happen.  Mebbe-so w’en de votin’ tam’ com’ ‘long de men lak’ for hav’ Choteau County sher’ff w’at kin mak’ de arres’ better as de sher’ff w’at kin dance good. Voila!” Without so much as a glance toward the other, he slipped into his saddle and started slowly down the alley.  Before he reached the street Moore’s horse pushed up beside him.

“Where’s this here outfit?” he growled, with a glance toward the dance-hall lights, “an’ what makes you think they’s a-goin’ to be gun-fightin’?”

“A’m t’ink dey ain’ so far,” replied the half-breed as he swung into the trail at a trot.  And although the impatient deputy plied him with a volley of questions the other vouchsafed no further information.  Midway of the ascent to the bench the two drew rein abruptly.  From above, and at no great distance, rang the sound of a shot—­then silence.  The deputy glanced at the half-breed:  “Hey, Bat,” he whispered, “this here’s a dangerous business!”