eed, there, he knows 'em."

"How did Purdy know about the reward?"

"Long Bill Kearney, he brung the bills along."

"Long Bill! He's another fine specimen! She's not safe as long as those
two scoundrels are at large. Where are they now? And where's Tex?"

"Well, Long Bill, he's quite a piece away from the bad lands by now. I
'spect he wishes he was back--but he won't come back. An' Purdy, he's
prob'ly wishin', by now, that he'd listened to me. God knows, I tried to
make a horse-thief out of him, but it wasn't no use--he's crooked. An'
Tex, he's busy an' don't want to be disturbed."

"Busy?"

"Yup. Busy killin' some folks--Purdy an' some others. I wanted he should
let me an' Bill Harlow go 'long an' help--but he wouldn't. Said he
wanted to settle with Purdy hisself."

"Who are you?"

"Me? I'm Cass Grimshaw."

"Ha!" cried Bat, climbing from the saddle, "A'm lak A'm shake you han'.
A'm know 'bout you. You de bes' hoss-t'ief in Montana, _sacre_! Me--A'm
Batiste Xavier Jean Jacques de Beaumont Lajune----"

"Is that one word--or several?" grinned Grimshaw. "An' as long as we
started in passin' poseys back an' forth, I've heard tell of both of you
birds. You're Tex's side kick an' your regular name's Bat, ain't it? An'
this here's the pilgrim that nicked Purdy over in Wolf River an' then
cussed out the lynchin' party to their face, thereby displayin' a set of
red guts that was entirely onlooked for in a pilgrim. So, bein' as we're
all friends together, let's hit it out an' see how Tex is makin' it."
He turned to Endicott, "Onless you'd ruther hit fer Cinnabar Joe's?"

Endicott shook his head: "No! If my wife is safe, my place is right here
beside Tex. This is my fight as much as it is his--more so, for it's on
her account he's after Purdy."

"That's what I call a man!" exclaimed Grimshaw extending a hand which
Endicott shook heartily. "Here's a gun--but let me slip you the word to
lay off Purdy. Nick away at the others, there's three more of 'em--or
was--but Tex he wants Purdy. Of course if anything should happen to
Tex--that lets us in. We'll pick up Bill Harlow on the way. Come on,
let's ride!"

And as they rode, Endicott smiled grimly to himself. A horse-thief, a
half-breed, and he, Winthrop Adams Endicott, "all friends together." And
in this friendship he suddenly realized he felt nothing but pride. The
feel of his galloping horse was good. He raised his eyes to the purpled
peaks of the distant Bear Paws, a