“I saw him leadin’ your horse rigged up with your side-saddle acrost the flats awhile back.”

Again the bartender nodded:  “He borrowed the outfit fer a gal of his’n he said come in on the train.  Wanted to take her fer a ride.”

“Where’d they go?” The words whipped viciously.

“Search me!  I’ve had my hands full to keep track of what’s goin’ on in here, let alone outside.”

Without a word the Texan stepped out the back door and hastened toward the horse corral behind the livery stable.  Circling its fence to the head of the alley, he stared in surprise at the spot where he and Bat Lajune had tied their horses.  The animals were gone, and cursing the half-breed at every step, he rushed to the street, and catching up the reins of a big roan that stood in a group of horses, swung into the saddle and headed out onto the trail.

“Women are fools,” he muttered savagely.  “It beats hell what even the sensible ones will fall for!”

At the up-bend of the trail he halted abruptly and listened.  From the shadows of the coulee ahead came the sound of voices and the soft scraping of horses’ feet.  He drew the roan into a cottonwood thicket and waited.

“Somethin’ funny here.  Nobody ever come to a dance ridin’ at a walk,” he muttered, and then as the little cavalcade broke into the bright moonlight at a bend of the trail, his eyes widened with surprise.  In front rode Bat Lajune with Purdy’s horse snubbed to his saddle-horn, and immediately following him were the girl and Endicott riding side by side.  Tex saw that the girl was crying, and that Endicott’s hands were manacled, and that he rode the missing horse.  Behind them rode Sam Moore, pompously erect, a six-shooter laid across the horn of his saddle, and a scowl of conceited importance upon his face that would have evoked the envy of the Kaiser of Krautland.  The figure appealed to the Texan’s sense of humour and waiting until the deputy was exactly opposite his place of concealment, he filled his lungs and leaned forward in his saddle.

“Y-e-e-e-o-w!” The sound blared out like the shrill of doom.  The officer’s six-shooter thudded upon the ground, his hands grasped the horn of the saddle, his spurs dug into his horse’s flanks and sent the animal crashing between the girl and Endicott and caused Purdy’s horse to tear loose from the half-breed’s saddle-horn.

“Stand ’em off, Bat!” shrieked the deputy as he shot past, “I’m a-goin’ fer help!” and away he tore, leaning far over his horse’s neck, with Purdy’s horse, the stirrups lashing his sides, dashing madly in his wake.

A moment later Tex pushed his mount into the trail where the girl, drawn close to Endicott, waited in fearful expectation.  The half-breed met him with a grin.

Rapidly, with many ejaculations interspersing explosive volleys of half-intelligible words, Bat acquainted the Texan with the progress of events.  The cowpuncher listened without comment until the other had finished.  Then he turned to Endicott.