says a thousan' there--but I raised it to five.
I'll jest hold you safe till I git my mitts on that five thousan', an'
then----"

"You'll hold me safe till you get the money?" asked the girl, a gleam of
hope lighting her eyes, "and then you'll turn me over to my husband? Is
that all you want--the money--five thousand dollars?"

The man laughed and again his eyes leered evilly into hers: "You know
what I want," he sneered, "an' what I want, I'll git--an' I'll git the
money, too! Things has broke my way at last! Tex is dead. When Long Bill
comes along to collect his share of the _dinero_ he'll foller Tex. An'
when the pilgrim rides into the bad lands with the money--well, it'll be
my turn, then. You'll be a widder, an' won't have only one man after
all--an' that man'll be me! An' they won't be no one a-huntin' you,
neither. They'll all think you drownded along with Tex."

"You devil! You fiend!" cried the girl, "surely if there's a God in
heaven, He will not let you live to do these things!"

"If there is, or if there ain't, it'll be the same," defied the man, "I
ain't afraid of Him! He won't lay no hand on _me_!" More terrible even
than his threats against her--more terrible than the open boast that he
would murder her husband, sounded the blasphemy of the man's words. She
felt suddenly weak and sick. Her knees swayed under her, and she sank
unconscious at the feet of her horse.

Staring down at her, Purdy laughed aloud, and securing his own horse and
the rope, lifted her into her saddle and bound her as before. Leading
the two animals, he made his way into the open where he mounted and
striking out at a right angle to his former course, headed for Cinnabar
Joe's.

As he disappeared around a bend in a coulee, a man who had been intently
watching all that transpired, rose to his feet. He was a squat man, with
ludicrously bowed legs. A tuft of hair protruded from a hole in the
crown of his hat. "I've seen considerable fools in my life, but when a
man gits to where he thinks he kin put over a whizzer on God A'mighty
an' git away with it--it's pretty close to cashin' in time fer him." He
stared for a moment at his six-gun before he returned it to its holster.
"There's them that's got a better right to him than me," he muttered,
"but at that, my finger was jest a-twitcherin' on the trigger."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE TEXAN TAKES THE TRAIL

At the mouth of the coulee, Janet McWhorter stared in astonishment as
the