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Midway of the ascent to the bench the two drew rein abruptly. From above, and at no great distance, rang the sound of a shot then silence. The deputy glanced at the half-breed: "Hey, Bat," he whispered, "this here's a dangerous business!" "Mebbe-so Choteau County lak' to git de sher'ff w'at ain' so mooch scairt." "Scairt! Who's scairt? It hain't that.
He pointed toward the winding trail. "Mebbe-so you hur' oop, you ketch." Without waiting for a reply the man slipped the revolver from his holster and pressed it into the astonished Endicott's hand, and catching him by the sleeve, hurried him to the rear of the stable where, tied to the fence of the corral, two horses stood saddled. Loosing one, the man passed him the bridle reins.
The half-breed grinned broadly: "Me, A'm de, w'at you call, de posse, eh? Bien! Com' on 'long den. Mebbe-so we no ketch, you no git 'lect for sher'ff." At the head of the trail the deputy checked his galloping mount with a jerk and scrutinized the three riderless horses that stood huddled together. His face paled perceptibly.
The guides pointed due north. "Mebbe-so wan hondre mile," announced one. "But," cried Wentworth, "we're going back by way of the post, aren't we?" "We're going to hit for the railway the quickest way God will let us!" "But, I I left something that is, I have nothing to travel in but these field clothes, and they're shockingly soiled and tattered." "Soiled and tattered hell!
"Dis Snake Creek," remarked the Indian; "better you git off now an' stretch you leg. Me, A'm mak' de blanket on de groun' an' you ketch-um little sleep. Mebbe-so dem com' queek mebbe-so long tam'." Even as he talked the man spread a pair of new blankets beside the trail and walking a short distance away seated himself upon a rock and lighted a cigarette.
As he blew the grey smoke from his nostrils he watched the half-breed who sat nearby industriously splicing a pair of broken bridle reins. "Did you get that ticket, Bat?" he asked, with a hand pressed tightly against his aching forehead. The other grinned. "Me, A'm no wan' no ticket. A'm lak A'm stay wit' you, an' mebbe-so we git de job togedder." The cowpuncher smoked for a time in silence.
Sure enough, when they reached camp there sat the half-breed placidly mending a blanket, with the bored air of one upon whom time hangs heavily. He looked up as Endicott greeted him. "Mebbe-so dat better you don' say nuttin' 'bout A'm gon' 'way from here," he grinned. "Tex she com' 'long pret' queek, now. Mebbe-so he t'ink dat better A'm stay roun' de camp. But Voila!
These spells is a-killin' me an' what'll become of the woman an' the kids?" The half-breed grinned: "Mebbe-so you kin' pass back agin, Sam. He ain' got no gun." Sam Moore ceased to writhe, and sat abruptly erect. "Ain't got no gun!" he exclaimed. "What did he shoot Purdy with?" "My gun. He giv' it back to me. A'm bor' heem dat gun li'l while ago." The deputy sprang to his feet.
He advanced and removed his hat; "Adieu, ma'mselle, mebbe-so I ain' git dere 'til you gon'. Ol' Bat, he lak' you fine. You need de help, som'tam', you mak' de write to ol' Bat an', ba Goss, A'm com' lak' hell you bet you dam' life!" Tears blinded the girl's eyes as she held out her hand, and as a cavalier of old France, the half-breed bent and brushed it with his lips.
Mebbe-so I'm eat a piece dat heart, an' feed de res' to my dog." Wentworth's pipe dropped to the gravel and lay there. He uttered no sound. The wind had died down and save for the droning hum of a billion mosquitoes the silence was absolute. A thin column of smoke streamed from the bowl of the neglected pipe. In profound fascination Wentworth watched it flow smoothly upward.
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