might have threatened and
insulted her. If they had . . . The old herder padded to his shack
and squatted down, to finish soldering the tiny rings on the buttons
for his daughter's jacket.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE BLACK SOMBRERO

When Andy had ridden far enough to feel secure in turning and riding
north--in fact, his plan was to work back to the Concho in a wide
circle--he reined in and dismounted. From a low ridge he surveyed the
western desert, approximated his bearings, and had his foot in the
stirrup when he saw four tiny dots that bobbed up and down on the
distant sky-line of the west. He had left an easy trail to follow and
the pursuers were riding hard. They were still a long distance from
him. He led his horse down the far side of the ridge and mounted. He
rode straight east for perhaps a quarter of a mile. Then he turned and
at right angles to his trail sped north behind the long, low, sandy
ridge. He could not be seen until the posse had topped it--and even
then it was probable they would fling down the slope, following his
tracks until they came to where he had turned. Straight ahead of him
the ridge swung to the left. In half an hour or so he would again
cross it, which he hoped to do before he was discovered. Once over the
ridge, he would head for the Concho. To follow him would mean that his
pursuers would be riding directly away from Pete's trail. Many long
desert miles lay between Andy and the Concho, but he argued that his
horse was as fresh as the horses of his pursuers. He would give them a
good run. If they overtook him before they reached the ranch, the most
they could do would be to curse him for misleading them. He reasoned
that the posse was from the T-Bar-T--that at best the sheriff could not
have been advised of the shooting in time to join them. They would
have no official right to detain him or interfere with his
progress--once they knew who he was.

A trot, a lope, then back to a swinging trot again--and as yet no
riders had appeared on the hills. Andy was making good time. The
crest of the ridge shimmered in the noon sun. At this pace he would be
over and down the western side before they saw him.

When the posse finally caught sight of the man they were after far out
across the level and riding toward the west, they knew at once that he
was making for the Concho and what protection his fellows might afford
him under the circumstances. This did not fit into the