"

"Shore you're a downright good pard," declared Stevens, in admiration,
as he took the money. "I give my word, Buck, an' I'm here to say I never
broke it yet. Lay low, an' look fer me back quick."

With that he spurred his horse and rode out of the mesquites toward the
town. At that distance, about a quarter of a mile, Mercer appeared to be
a cluster of low adobe houses set in a grove of cottonwoods. Pastures
of alfalfa were dotted by horses and cattle. Duane saw a sheep-herder
driving in a meager flock.

Presently Stevens rode out of sight into the town. Duane waited, hoping
the outlaw would make good his word. Probably not a quarter of an hour
had elapsed when Duane heard the clear reports of a Winchester rifle,
the clatter of rapid hoof-beats, and yells unmistakably the kind to mean
danger for a man like Stevens. Duane mounted and rode to the edge of the
mesquites.

He saw a cloud of dust down the road and a bay horse running fast.
Stevens apparently had not been wounded by any of the shots, for he had
a steady seat in his saddle and his riding, even at that moment, struck
Duane as admirable. He carried a large pack over the pommel, and he kept
looking back. The shots had ceased, but the yells increased. Duane saw
several men running and waving their arms. Then he spurred his horse and
got into a swift stride, so Stevens would not pass him. Presently the
outlaw caught up with him. Stevens was grinning, but there was now no
fun in the dancing eyes. It was a devil that danced in them. His face
seemed a shade paler.

"Was jest comin' out of the store," yelled Stevens. "Run plumb into a
rancher--who knowed me. He opened up with a rifle. Think they'll chase
us."

They covered several miles before there were any signs of pursuit, and
when horsemen did move into sight out of the cottonwoods Duane and his
companion steadily drew farther away.

"No hosses in thet bunch to worry us," called out Stevens.

Duane had the same conviction, and he did not look back again. He rode
somewhat to the fore, and was constantly aware of the rapid thudding of
hoofs behind, as Stevens kept close to him. At sunset they reached the
willow brakes and the river. Duane's horse was winded and lashed with
sweat and lather. It was not until the crossing had been accomplished
that Duane halted to rest his animal. Stevens was riding up the low,
sandy bank. He reeled in the saddle. With an exclamation of surprise
Duane leaped off and ran to