signs of tracks. Just about dark he ran
across a trail that Stevens said was a good one to take into the wild
country.

"Reckon we'd better keep right on in the dark--till I drop," concluded
Stevens, with a laugh.

All that night Duane, gloomy and thoughtful, attentive to the wounded
outlaw, walked the trail and never halted till daybreak. He was tired
then and very hungry. Stevens seemed in bad shape, although he was still
spirited and cheerful. Duane made camp. The outlaw refused food, but
asked for both whisky and water. Then he stretched out.

"Buck, will you take off my boots?" he asked, with a faint smile on his
pallid face.

Duane removed them, wondering if the outlaw had the thought that he did
not want to die with his boots on. Stevens seemed to read his mind.

"Buck, my old daddy used to say thet I was born to be hanged. But I
wasn't--an' dyin' with your boots on is the next wust way to croak."

"You've a chance to-to get over this," said Duane.

"Shore. But I want to be correct about the boots--an' say, pard, if I do
go over, jest you remember thet I was appreciatin' of your kindness."

Then he closed his eyes and seemed to sleep.

Duane could not find water for the horses, but there was an abundance
of dew-wet grass upon which he hobbled them. After that was done he
prepared himself a much-needed meal. The sun was getting warm when he
lay down to sleep, and when he awoke it was sinking in the west. Stevens
was still alive, for he breathed heavily. The horses were in sight. All
was quiet except the hum of insects in the brush. Duane listened awhile,
then rose and went for the horses.

When he returned with them he found Stevens awake, bright-eyed, cheerful
as usual, and apparently stronger.

"Wal, Buck, I'm still with you an' good fer another night's ride," he
said. "Guess about all I need now is a big pull on thet bottle. Help
me, will you? There! thet was bully. I ain't swallowin' my blood this
evenin'. Mebbe I've bled all there was in me."

While Duane got a hurried meal for himself, packed up the little outfit,
and saddled the horses Stevens kept on talking. He seemed to be in a
hurry to tell Duane all about the country. Another night ride would put
them beyond fear of pursuit, within striking distance of the Rio Grande
and the hiding-places of the outlaws.

When it came time for mounting the horses Stevens said, "Reckon you
can pull on my boots once more." In spite of the laugh accompanyin