his!" swore Neil
between his teeth. "Ain't there nothin' I can do for you, old pardner?"

In sharp succession four shots rang out. Neil grasped his rifle, leaning
forward and crouching for cover. He turned a puzzled face toward Leroy.
"I don't savvy. They ain't shooting at us."

"The sheriff," explained Leroy. "They forgot him, and he doubled back on
them."

"I'll bet Val got one of them," cried Neil, his face lighting.

"He's got one--or he's quit living. That's a sure thing. Why don't you
circle up on them from behind, York?"

"I hate to leave you, cap--and you so bad. Can't I do a thing for you?"

Leroy smiled faintly. "Not a thing. I'll be right here when you get
back, York."

The curly-headed young puncher took Leroy's hand in his, gulping down
a boyish sob. "I ain't been square with you, cap. I reckon after
this--when you git well--I'll not be such a coyote any more."

The dying man's eyes were lit with a beautiful tenderness. "There's one
thing you can do for me, York.... I'm out of the game, but I want you
to make a new start.... I got you into this life, boy. Quit it, and live
straight. There's nothing to it, York."

The cowboy-bandit choked. "Don't you worry about me, cap. I'm all right.
I'd just as lief quit this deviltry, anyhow."

"I want you to promise, boy." A whimsical, half-cynical smile touched
Leroy's eyes. "You see, after living like a devil for thirty years, I
want to die like a Christian. Now, go, York."

After Neil had left him, Leroy's eyes closed. Faintly he heard two more
shots echoing down the valley, but the meaning of them was already lost
to his wandering mind.

Neil dodged rapidly round the foot of the mountain with intent to cut
off the bandits as they retreated. He found the sheriff crouching behind
a rock scarce two hundred yards from the scene of the murder. At the
same moment another shot echoed from well over to the left.

"Who can that be?" Neil asked, very much puzzled.

"That's what's worrying me, York," the sheriff returned.

Together they zigzagged up the side of the mountain. Twice from above
there came sounds of rifle shots. Neil was the first to strike the trail
to the mine. None too soon for as he stepped upon it, breathing heavily
from his climb, Reilly swung round a curve and whipped his weapon to his
shoulder. The man fired before York could interfere and stood watching
tensely the result of his shot. He was silhouetted against the skyline,
a beautiful m