showed 'em this scar on my arm." He rolled
back his left sleeve disclosing a scar on the forearm about three
inches below the elbow.

"I told 'em that scar was made by a bullet from The Coyote's gun,"
Rathburn went on, pulling down his sleeve and drawing his right hand
back to the gun he had replaced in its holster. "That scar _was_ made
by The Coyote's gun. I shot myself in the arm by accident some few
years ago. Now, here's the point: Those men will remember me an'
remember that scar. The descriptions the sheriff of that county must
have in his office will tell all about that scar. It won't be hard to
identify me by it an' by the two men that stood out there by the
window with me. So they'll know I didn't pull the robbery!"

The other man shifted uneasily on his feet.

"An' that ain't all, Percy," Rathburn continued. "Somebody saw me
running up the street afterward because they took a couple of shots at
me for luck. That'll dovetail with my story. I've never been known to
use two guns. An' if they want any more proof all they'll have to do
will be to stand you up in front of the men you had in line, dressed
as you are with that black handkerchief over your face. That'll settle
it. I reckon the sheriff will believe me an' give me a chance when he
hears the facts, or I may not wait for a talk with him."

"I take it you've got me right," said the captive, compressing his
lips. "But if you're really The Coyote I've heard so much about,
you'll give me my gun an' give me a chance to run for it!"

Rathburn's laugh jarred on his ears. "Give you a chance an' take a
chance myself on going to the gallows?"

"The gallows!" exclaimed the other. "Oh--I see. But didn't you say you
thought the sheriff would give you a chance if he met you an' heard
your story? At that you don't have to stay around an' get taken back
to Arizona now."

"They hang men in this State," Rathburn interrupted.

"But--there wasn't----" The other man faltered, staring.

"One of those shots you fired at the lamp went wild, or glanced off
something, an'----" Rathburn lifted his brows significantly.

"Killed somebody!" cried the other.

He staggered back just as a rattle of falling stones signified that
horsemen were in the shale on the slope to eastward.

CHAPTER VII

WHERE TO HIDE

For the space of several seconds Rathburn and his captive looked into
each other's eyes. Rathburn's gaze was keen, alert, fired by the quick
thinking he wa