easy."

"I've changed my mind. I'll not write but go to see her."

Curly could only look his thanks. Words seemed strangely inadequate. But
Kate understood the boy's unspoken wish and nodded her head reassuringly
as he left the room.

CHAPTER V

LAURA LONDON

Kite Bonfils and Maloney took Curly back to Saguache and turned him over
to Sheriff Bolt.

"How about bail?" Maloney asked.

The sheriff smiled. He was a long lean leather-faced man with friendly
eyes from which humorous wrinkles radiated.

"You honing to go bail for him, Dick?"

"How much?"

"Oh, say two thousand."

"You're on."

"What!"

A cowpuncher with fifty dollars two weeks after pay day was a rarity. No
wonder Bolt was surprised.

"It's not my money. Luck Cullison is going bail for him," Maloney
explained.

"Luck Cullison!" Maloney's words had surprised the exclamation from Curly.
Why should the owner of the Circle C of all men go bail for him?

The sheriff commented dryly on the fact. "I thought this kid was the one
that shot him."

"That was just a happenstance. Curly shot to save his bacon. Luck don't
hold any grudge."

"So I should judge. Luck gave you his check, did he?"

Bolt belonged to the political party opposed to Cullison. He had been
backed by Cass Fendrick, a sheepman in feud with the cattle interests and
in particular with the Circle C outfit. But he could not go back on his
word. He and Maloney called together on the district attorney. An hour
later Dick returned to the jail.

"It's all right, kid," he told Curly. "You can shake off the dust of
Saguache from your hoofs till court meets in September."

To Flandrau the news seemed too good for the truth. Less than twenty-four
hours ago he had been waiting for the end of the road with a rope around
his neck. Now he was free to slip a saddle on his pony Keno and gallop off
as soon as he pleased. How such a change had been brought about he did not
yet understand.

While he and Maloney were sitting opposite each other at the New Orleans
Hash House waiting for a big steak with onions he asked questions.

"I don't savvy Cullison's play. Whyfor is he digging up two thousand for
me? How does he know I won't cut my stick for Mexico?"

"How do I know it?"

"Well, do you?"

Maloney helped himself to the oyster crackers to pass the time. "Sure I
do."

"How?"

"Search me. But I know you'll be here in September if you're alive and
kicking."

Flandrau persist