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Pardaloe came between them before harm was done, but the two men parted with the anger of their quarrel deepened. When Nan rode with de Spain into Sleepy Cat that morning, Lefever had already told their story to Jeffries over the telephone from Calabasas, and Mrs. Jeffries had thrown open her house to receive Nan. Weary from exposure, confusion, and hunger, Nan was only too grateful for a refuge.
"I seen her," he declared, holding his chin well down and in, and speaking in a pardonably proud throat. "Good, Bull!" "They've got things tied up for fair over there." He spoke slowly and brokenly. "I never got inside the house till after supper. Toward night I helped Pardaloe put up the stock.
Sassoon was hit in the side, and in the neck." "Where is de Spain?" "Dead, I reckon, by this time." "Where's his body?" "I don't know." "Why do you think he is dead?" "Sassoon said he was hit in the head." "Yet he got away on horseback!" "I'm telling you what Sassoon said; I didn't see him." Lefever and Pardaloe rode back to the stage barn.
"Good night, Mr. de Spain." "Good night, Pardaloe." Bending forward, limp, in his chair, supporting his head vacantly on his hands, trying to think and fearing to think, de Spain heard Pardaloe's measured tread on the descending steps, and listened mechanically to the retreating echoes of his footsteps down the shaded street. Minute after minute passed. De Spain made no move.
"If you've got no beds, we won't bother you long," interposed Pardaloe. "I'd like a pitcher of ice-water, anyway," persisted Lefever. "Sit down, noble Greek; we'll talk this over." "Who are you fellows?" demanded Philippi, looking from one to the other. "I am a prospector from the Purgatoire," answered Pardaloe. Philippi turned his keen eye on Lefever. "You a railroad man?"
When he had done, he examined, superficially, the wounds of each man. Rising, he turned toward Philippi. "Were these men dead when you brought them up here?" "I didn't bring 'em up," growled Philippi. "You know them, Pardaloe?" asked Lefever. Pardaloe answered that he did. Lefever turned sharply on Philippi. "Where were you when this fight was going on?" "Down at the stage barn."
"You promised to marry me," he muttered truculently. "I'll find a way to make you keep your word." A loud knocking interrupted him, and, without waiting to be admitted, Pardaloe, the cowboy, opened the front door and stalked boldly in from the hall. If the situation in the room surprised him he gave no evidence of it. And as he walked in Nan disappeared.
Again there was a pause. "I'll tell you about that, too, Pardaloe," de Spain went on collectedly. "I lost my rifle before that man opened fire on us. Nan happened to have her rifle with her if she hadn't, he'd 've dropped one or both of us off El Capitan. We were pinned against the wall like a couple of targets.
De Spain had backed up again. "Stop, Pardaloe," he called. "My men are outside that door. Stand where you are," he ordered, still enforcing his commands with his right hand covering the holster at his hip. "I leave this room first. Nan, are you ready?" he asked, without looking at her. "Yes." Her uncle's face whitened. "Don't leave this house to-night, Nan," he said menacingly.
He protested he had no key. Pardaloe knocked and, getting no response, tried unsuccessfully to force the lock. Lefever motioned him aside and, after knocking loudly on the door himself, laid his shoulder against it. The door creaked and sprung in crazy protest.
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