l in the rear, unlock it, and go inside. Rathburn pushed Long, who
was regaining his senses, in after him and took the jailer's keys.

"Tell Long I'm thinkin' over what he told me," he said to the jailer,
as he locked them in.

Then he hurried back to the entrance, locked it, and tossed the keys
in through the bars.

He wet his handkerchief with ice water from a tank in Long's office,
wiped his face clean, and left the building.

CHAPTER XXXI

A NEW COUNT

As Rathburn wended his way to an obscure restaurant on a side street
of the little town which was the county seat of Mesquite County, his
thoughts were busy with what he had learned from the sheriff. He knew
the official had been right when he said that it would react in
Rathburn's favor if he gave himself up. Some of the counts on which he
would be indicted undoubtedly would be quashed; others he might
disprove. There was a chance that he might get off lightly; in any
event he would have to spend a number of years in prison.

Rathburn looked up at the bright sky. At the end of the street he
could see the desert, and far beyond, the blue outlines of the
mountains. It seemed to him that the sunshine was brighter on this
deadly morning when he struggled with troubled thoughts. Having always
lived in the open, liberty meant everything to him.

But constantly his thoughts reverted to Laura Mallory. What did she
expect of him? What would she think if he were to give himself up? Her
talk of the compass--his conscience--bothered him. Why should she say
such a thing if she didn't feel more than a friendly interest in him?
Did she care for him then?

Rathburn laughed mirthlessly, as he entered the eating house. There
was no doubt of it--he was a fool. He continued to think, as he ate;
by the time he had finished he found himself in a bad mental state.
He wiped some moisture from his forehead, as he left the restaurant.
For a moment he felt panicky. He was wavering!

The tenor of his thoughts caused him to abandon his caution. He turned
the corner by the State Bank of Hope and walked boldly down the
street. Few pedestrians were about. None took any special notice of
him, and none recognized him. He turned in at the resort he had
visited when he first arrived that morning.

He started, as he entered the place. A deep frown gathered on his
face. Gomez, Eagen's Mexican henchman, was at the bar. At first
Rathburn feigned ignorance of the Mexican's presence; bu