!" McKee grinned at his joke on
the Sheriff. "I held the old man up, and that's all there is to it."

"Who was with you?" asked Slim. "There was two."

McKee was silent.

"Bud Lane was the other man," hazarded Slim.

"No--" began Buck, but Slim interrupted him.

"He was with you that night. He came to the weddin' with you. It ain't
no use in denyin' it. I've been thinkin' it all out. I was fooled by
Jack's pacing hoss. You and Bud--"

Here McKee interrupted with a solemn denial. Whether from a desire to
foil the Sheriff, whom he knew was Bud's rival in love, and so thought
him the young man's enemy, or from the benevolent spirit induced by the
recent contemplation of his virtues, McKee was impelled to give an
account of the murder which very convincingly indicated Bud as a
protesting catspaw, rather than a consenting accomplice.

At the end of the story he smiled grimly:

"So while you were out o' the county on a wil'-goose chase after an
inercent man, Peruna, he goes loco on paten'-medicine, an' gits the
guilty party. Joke's on you, Slim. I nomernate Peruna fer nex'
sheriff."

Exhausted with the effort and pain of talking, McKee dropped his head
upon Hoover's broad breast in a faint. Hoover bore him down to the
spring, and bathed his wound and mouth. McKee revived, and in broken
phrases, which were accompanied with blood from his pierced lungs
frothing out of his mouth, continued his observations on the ridiculous
and unfortunate mistake Peruna made in killing him.

"Damn' fool--'s bes' fren'--I would herd--'th low-down intellecks--nev'
'preciated--no chance--to be firs'-class--bad man."

And so Buck McKee, desperado, died like many another ambitious soul,
with expressions of disappointment on his lips.

CHAPTER XVII

A New Deal

Bud Lane, returning to camp, saw the returned Sheriff supporting the
dying murderer of Terrill, and listening to what was undoubtedly his
confession. He stole away before he was observed.

"It's all up with me," he thought. "Buck has told him. Slim hates me
along o' Polly. I'll get away from here' to-night."

He met Polly by the mess-wagon.

At once she saw that something had happened. Bud was deathly pale. He
trembled when she spoke to him.

"Why, what on earth is the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing. I--" answered Bud, glancing about him, as if seeking some way
to escape.

"You're looking mighty pale--are you sick?" persisted the girl.

"Slim Ho