rs found
that they were gaining; their yells came louder down the wind; they
roweled their lathered cow-ponies. And they drew closer to the
buckboard.

The constable negotiated the dry wash near Robbers Rock on two wheels,
and as the light vehicle was reeling along the easy grade beyond, the
prisoner took another look behind. He told his captor that the wild
riders were not much more than four hundred yards away.

They came to a stretch of level road. The mules were doing a little
better now, and they clattered down into the next dry wash with an
abandon which all but ended matters; the outer wheels went over the
high cut bank, but by the grace of good luck and marvelous driving the
buckboard was kept right side up. And now the lynching party, who had
made a short cut, appeared between the rolling hills not more than two
hundred yards behind.

Johnny Behind the Deuce reported the state of affairs. The constable
answered without turning his head.

"Looks like we're up against it, kid," said he, "but we'll play it out
's long as we got chips left."

Three miles outside of Tombstone stood an adobe building wherein
a venturesome saloon-keeper had installed himself, a barrel of
that remarkable whisky known as "Kill Me Quick," and sufficient
arms to maintain possession against road-agents. The sign on this
establishment's front wall said:

_LAST CHANCE_

It was a lucky chance for Johnny Behind the Deuce. For Jack McCann,
who owned a fast mare, was exercising her out here this afternoon
preparatory for a race against some cow-ponies over on the San Pedro
next week. He had trotted her down the road and was about to head her
back toward the saloon for her burst of speed when he saw the
buckboard coming over a rise.

The mules were fagged. The constable was lashing them with might and
main. The lynching party were within a hundred yards.

As Jack McCann surveyed this spectacle which was so rapidly
approaching him the constable waved his hand. The situation was too
tight to permit wasting time. McCann ranged his mare alongside the
buckboard as soon as it drew up; and before the breathless driver had
begun to explain, he cried.

"Jump on, kid."

Johnny Behind the Deuce leaped on the mare's back. The constable
pulled off the road as the lynching party came thundering by with a
whoop and halloo. He peered through the dust which the ponies' hoofs
had stirred up and saw the mare fading away i