"

Again Alice Marcum shuddered as Endicott spoke: "Can you find our
horses?" he asked. "I must go to town and give myself up."

"_Oui_, A'm git de hoss' a'right. Better you tak' 'em an' skeep off.
A'm git on dat posse an' you bet we no ketch. A'm lak' you fine."

"No! No!" Endicott exclaimed. "If I have killed a man I shall stand
trial for it. I won't sneak away like a common murderer. I know my
act was no crime, let the decision of the jury be what it may."

The half-breed regarded him with a puzzled frown. "You mean you lak'
fer git arres'?" he asked in surprise.

"Why, of course! I--" the other interrupted with a laugh.

"A'right. Dat de kin' Sam Moore she lak' fer arres'. Sam, she layin'
back here a ways. She dipity sher'ff, an' we'n we com' on dem hoss',
Sam she git to fink 'bout he's wife an' kids. He don' fink 'bout dem
mooch only w'en he git dronk, or git scairt. Den he lov' 'em lak'
hell, an' he grab de beeg belly-ache, so dey don' got for feel sorry
'bout heem gittin' keel."

Slipping his own gun into its holster, the half-breed turned and walked
toward the spot where he had left the deputy, and as he walked he threw
open the cylinder of the officer's gun and removed the cartridges.

"Sam!" he called sharply. Cautiously a head raised from behind a sage
bush. "How long you t'ink dat tak' you git well? Wan man he lak' for
git arres' w'en you git time."

"Shut up! Don't talk so loud! D'you want to git us killed? Which one
got it?"

"Purdy. De pilgrim shoot heem 'cause he run off wit' he's girl."

"Pilgrim! What pilgrim! An' what girl? Ain't that Tex Benton's
horse, an' Cinnabar Joe's----?"

"Uh-huh, A'm bor' heem Tex boss for ketch Purdy. An', Ba goss, he
shoot heem on he's head after Purdy draw'd!"

Moore stared aghast. "What? A pilgrim done that? Not on yer life!
He may look an' act like a pilgrim but, take it from me, he's a
desperate character if he got Purdy after he draw'd. It's worser than
if it was Tex. _He_ might of took pity on us, knowin' about the
fambly. But a stranger, an' one that kin git a man like Jack Purdy!
O-o-o-o, my stummick! Bat, I'm 'fraid I'm a-passin' away! These
spells is a-killin' me--an' what'll become of the woman an' the kids?"

The half-breed grinned: "Mebbe-so you kin' pass back agin, Sam. He
ain' got no gun."

Sam Moore ceased to writhe, and sat abruptly erect. "Ain't got no
gun!" he exclaimed. "What did he shoot Purdy with?"