talk that-a-way, Dave. I don't want to be shet of you. After a
good night's rest you'll feel a new man."

"No, I've got more than I can pack. It won't be long now. I'm right
comfortable here. Steve's in a hurry. You go on an' hit the trail with
him."

"Where did you get the notion I was yellow, old-timer? I've hunted in
couples with you for years. Do you reckon I'm goin' to run like a cur
now you've struck a streak o' bad luck?" asked Dinsmore huskily.

The dying man smiled his thanks. "You always was a stubborn
son-of-a-gun, Homer. But Steve, he wants--"

"Steve can go to--Hell Creek, if he's so set on travelin' in a hurry.
Here, drink some of this water."

The blanket of darkness fell over the land. Stars came out, at first one
or two, then by thousands, till the night was full of them. The wounded
man dozed and stirred and dozed again. It was plain that the sands of
his life were running low. Dinsmore, watching beside him, knew that it
was the ebb tide.

A little after midnight Overstreet roused himself, recognized the
watcher, and nodded good-bye.

"So long, Homer. I'm hittin' the home trail now."

His hand groped feebly till it found that of his friend. A few minutes
later he died, still holding the strong warm hand of the man who was
nursing him.

Dinsmore crossed the hands of the dead outlaw and covered him with a
blanket.

"Saddle up, Steve," he told Gurley.

While he waited for the horses, he looked down with a blur over his
eyes. He had ridden hard and crooked trails all his life, but he had
lost that day his brother and his best friend. The three of them had
been miscreants. They had broken the laws of society and had fought
against it because of the evil in them that had made them a destructive
force. But they had always played fair with each other. They had at
least been loyal to their own bad code. Now he was alone, for Gurley did
not count.

Presently the other man stood at his elbow with the saddled horses.
Dinsmore swung to the saddle and rode away. Not once did he look back,
but he had no answer for Gurley's cheerful prediction that now they
would reach Palo Duro Canon all right and would hole up there till the
pursuit had spent itself, after which they could amble down across the
line to Old Mexico or could strike the Pecos and join Billy the Kid.
Only one idea was fixed definitely in his mind, that as soon as he
could, he would part company with the man riding beside him.

When day