, however, as he
hesitated.

He was mightily handicapped because he had no horse. A horse--his own
horse, he felt--was necessary for his escape, but his horse was a long
distance away.

Rathburn stole across the street to the side on which the big resort
was situated, and slipped behind a building just as the muffled
reports came from within the jail. After a short interval, five more
shots were heard, and Rathburn grinned as he realized that the jailer
had fired the remaining bullets in his own and the sheriff's guns.

He heard men running down the street. So he hurried up street behind
the buildings until he reached the rear of the large resort, which was
the place Lamy had held up.

Peering through one of the rear windows he saw the room was deserted
except for the man behind the bar. Even at that distance he could hear
horses and men down the street. Doubtless they were crowding into the
jail where the sheriff would insist upon being liberated at once so he
could lead the chase and, as Rathburn had the key, this would result
in a delay until another key could be found, or Brown, who probably
had one, could be routed out.

Rathburn thought of this as he looked through the window at the lonely
bartender who evidently could not decide whether to close up and see
what it all was about or not. But the thing which impressed Rathburn
most was the presence of a pile of sandwiches and several cans of
corned beef and sardines--emergency quick lunches for patrons--on the
back bar. Also, he saw several gunny sacks on a box in the rear of the
place almost under the window through which he was looking.

Rathburn stepped to the door in sudden decision, threw it open, and
walked in. His gun flashed into his hand. "Quiet!" was all he said to
the stupefied bartender.

He scooped up one of the sacks, darted behind the bar, brushed the
sandwiches and most of the cans of corned beef and sardines into it,
and then slung it over his left shoulder with his left hand.

"The sheriff will return the money that was taken from here," he said
coolly as he walked briskly to the front door. "Play the game safe;
stay where you are!" he cautioned as he vanished through the door.

There were no horses at the hitching rail, but he saw several down the
street in front of the jail. Men were running back and forth across
the street--after Brown, he surmised.

Again he stole around to the rear of the resort; then he struck
straight up into th