'u're taking us back to
him. I can prove that coyote Morgan shot at me first, but that doesn't
cut any ice with you."

"What made you light out so sudden, then?" demanded the aggrieved Burns
triumphantly.

"Because I knew you. That's a plenty good reason. I'm not asking
anything for myself. All I say is that my friend isn't fit to travel
yet. Let him stay here under a guard till he is."

"He was fit enough to get here. By thunder, he's fit to go back!"

"Y'u've said enough, Mac," broke in Bannister. "It's awfully good of y'u
to speak for me, but I would rather see it out with you to a finish. I
don't want any favors from this yellow dog of my cousin."

The "yellow dog" set his teeth and swore vindictively behind them. He
was already imagining an hour when these insolent prisoners of his would
sing another tune.

CHAPTER 18. PLAYING FOR TIME

"They've got 'em. Caught them on Dry Creek, just below Green Forks."

Helen Messiter, just finishing her breakfast at the hotel preparatory to
leaving in her machine for the ranch, laid down her knife and fork and
looked with dilated eyes at Denver, who had broken in with the news.

"Are you sure?" The color had washed from her face and left her very
white, but she fronted the situation quietly without hysterics or fuss
of any kind.

"Yes, ma'am. They're bringing them in now to jail. Watch out and y'u'll
see them pass here in a few minutes. Seems that Bannister's wound opened
up on him and he couldn't go any farther. Course Mac wouldn't leave
him. Sheriff Burns and his posse dropped in on them and had them covered
before Mac could chirp."

"You are sure this man--this desperado Bannister--will do nothing till
night?"

"Not the way I figure it. He'll have the jail watched all day. But he's
got to work the town up to a lynching. I expect the bars will be free
for all to-day. By night the worst part of this town will be ready for
anything. The rest of the citizens are going to sit down and do nothing
just because it is Bannister."

"But it isn't Bannister--not the Bannister they think it is."

He shook his head. "No use, ma'am. I've talked till my throat aches, but
it don't do a mite of good. Nobody believes a word of what I say. Y'u
see, we ain't got any proof."

"Proof! We have enough, God knows! didn't this villain--this outlaw that
calls himself Jack Holloway--attack and try to murder him?"

"That's what we believe, but the report out is that one of us punch