g as they don't dig Win up out of the bottom of some coulee,
I'm at large for want of a party of the first part to the alleged
felonious snuffin'-out. Gosh, I bet the boys are havin' fun watchin'
that diggin'. If I was there I'd put in my nights makin' fresh-dug
spots, an' my days watchin' 'em prospect 'em." Then his thoughts
turned to the girl, and for miles he rode unheeding. The sun had swung
well to the westward before the cowboy took notice of his surroundings.
Antelope Butte lay ten or twelve miles away and he headed for it with a
laugh. "You must have thought I sure enough was headin' for Cow Island
Crossing didn't you, you old dogie chaser?" He touched his horse
lightly with his spurs and the animal struck into a long swinging trot.

"This here's a mixed-up play all around," he muttered. "Win's worryin'
about killin' Purdy--says it's got under his hide 'til he thinks about
it nights. It ain't so much bein' on the run that bothers him as it is
the fact that he's killed a man." He smiled to himself: "A little
worryin' won't hurt him none. Any one that would worry over shootin' a
pup like Purdy ought to worry--whether he done it or not. Then,
there's me. I start out with designs as evil an' triflin' as
Purdy's--only I ain't a brute--an' I winds up by lovin' her.
Yes--that's the word. There ain't no mortal use beatin' around the
bush to fool myself. Spite of silk stockin's she's good clean through.
I reckon, maybe, they're wore more promiscuous in the East. That Eagle
Creek Ranch, if them corrals was fixed up a little an' them old cattle
sheds tore down, an' the ditches gone over, it would be a good outfit.
If it was taken hold of right, there wouldn't be a better proposition
on the South Slope." Gloom settled upon the cowboy's face: "But
there's Win. I started out to show him up." He smiled grimly. "Well,
I did. Only not just exactly as I allowed to. Lookin' over the
back-trail, I reckon, when us four took to the brush there wasn't only
one damned skunk in the crowd--an' that was me. It's funny a man can
be that ornery an' never notice it. But, I bet Bat knew. He's pure
gold, Bat is. He's about as prepossessin' to look at as an old gum
boot, but his heart's all there--an' you bet, Bat, he knows."

It was within a quarter of a mile of Antelope Butte that the Texan,
riding along the bottom of a wide coulee met another horseman. This
time there was no spurring toward him, and he noticed that