he had pressed the hair flat, the Circle 12
resolved itself into a V 2.

The Texan laughed: "I suppose I ought to take you into Timber City, but
I won't. I imagine, though, when the Judge hears about this, you'd
better be hittin' the high spots. He's right ugly with horse thieves."

"Hey, hain't ye goin' to ontie me?" squealed the man, as the four
started down the bank with the horses.

"You don't suppose I'd go off an' leave a good rope where you could get
your claws on it, do you? Wait 'til we get these horses onto the
flat-boat, and all the guns around here collected so you can't peck at
us from the brush, an' I'll be back."

"You gon' on to Timbaire City," said Bat, "an' I'm com' long bye-m-bye.
A'm tak' dis hoss an' ride back an' git ma saddle an' bridle." He
advanced and removed his hat; "_Adieu, ma'mselle_, mebbe-so I ain' git
dere 'til you gon'. Ol' Bat, he lak' you fine. You need de help,
som'tam', you mak' de write to ol' Bat an', ba Goss, A'm com' lak'
hell--you bet you dam' life!" Tears blinded the girl's eyes as she
held out her hand, and as a cavalier of old France, the half-breed bent
and brushed it with his lips. He shook the hand of Endicott: "Som'tam'
mebbe-so you com' back, we tak' de hont. Me--A'm know where de elk an'
de bear liv' plenty." Endicott detected a twinkle in his eye as he
turned to ascend the bank: "You mak' Tex ke'p de strong lookout for de
posse. A'm no lak' I seen you git hang."

"Beat it! You old reprobate!" called the Texan as he followed him up
the slope.

"How'm I goin' to git my boat back?" whined Long Bill, as the Texan
coiled his rope.

"Swim acrost. Or, maybe you'd better go 'round--it's some little
further that way, but it's safer if you can't swim. I'll leave your
guns in the boat. So long, an' be sure to remember not to furget
sometime an' pay me back that twenty."

The ride to Timber City was made almost in silence. Only once did the
Texan speak. It was when they passed a band of sheep grazing beside
the road: "They're minin' the country," he said, thoughtfully. "The
time ain't far off when we'll have to turn nester--or move on."

"Where?" asked Alice.

The cowboy shrugged, and the girl detected a note of unconscious
sadness in his tone: "I don't know. I reckon there ain't any place for
me. The whole country's about wired in."

Timber City, since abandoned to the bats and the coyotes, but then in
her glory, consisted of two stores, five sa