time to git organized, an' horn the pilgrim out
of his five thousan', an' git it over with by the twentieth when old
McWhorter's due fer his lonesome jag, an' then fer three days I'll have
my own way with the girl--an' when I've had her fer three days--she'll
never go back!" A sudden thought struck him, and he pulled up and gazed
toward Red Sand while a devilish gleam played in his narrowed eyes.
"Gawd," he muttered, "drunk as he gits, the shack could burn to the
ground--it's every man fer hisself--might's well play safe. An' after
that comes Cinnabar's turn--an' another woman's goin' to pay fer bein'
free with her tongue. Then the Wolf River bank. Damn 'em!" he cried,
suddenly, "I'll clean 'em all! I'm smarter'n the whole mess of 'em. I'm
a killer! I'm the last of the loboes! Cass depended on friends, but
me--the name of Purdy'll chill their guts!"

CHAPTER XXI

THE PASSING OF LONG BILL KEARNEY

It was yet dark when the Texan rolled from the blankets at the edge of
McWhorter's haystack, and dumped a liberal measure of oats into the blue
roan's feed box. While the animal ate, the man carefully examined his
outfit by the light of the waning moon. Gun, cinch, bridle, saddle,
rope, each came in for its bit of careful scrutiny, and when he had
finished he saddled and bridled the horse in the stall and led him out
just as the first faint hint of dawn greyed the east. As he swung into
the saddle, the horse tried to sink his head, but the Texan held him up,
"Not this mornin', old hand," he said, soothingly, "it wastes strength,
an' I've got a hunch that maybe I'm goin' to need every pound you've got
in you." As if recognizing the voice of a master, the horse gave one or
two half-hearted jumps, and stretched into an easy lope. As the coulee
began to slant to the bench the man pulled him down to a walk which
became a steady trot when the higher level was gained.

The Texan rode with a much lighter heart than he had carried on the
previous day. The words of Janet McWhorter had kindled a ray of hope--a
hope that had grown brighter with the dawning of the day. He even smiled
as he thought of the girl back there in the cabin. "I didn't think there
was her like in the world. She's--she's the kind of woman a man dreams
about, an' knows all the time they ain't real--they couldn't be. Hair as
black an' shiny as the wing of a crow. An' eyes! Sometimes you can see
way down into 'em--like deep, clear water an' when they laugh, t