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"I suppose they'll believe it quicker if it's in writing," said Sautee bravely. Rathburn finished writing, folded the paper, and placed it in the left-hand pocket of his coat. He carefully put away the pencil. His next act caused Sautee real concern. Using a drill which was there for the purpose, evidently, Rathburn broke open a box of dynamite caps and a box of dynamite.
Three hours after the posses scattered on their search for The Coyote, spurred by thoughts of the reward of a thousand dollars offered by San Jacinto county, and Judson Brown's declaration that the reward would be increased by the thousands more which Arizona had laid upon the fugitive's head, Rathburn smiled at the rosy dawn in supreme satisfaction.
He lighted the weed and smiled quizzically while they examined the meager contents of the slicker pack on the rear of his saddle. "See you're packing a black slicker," said Mannix, pointing to the rough raincoat in which the pack was wrapped. "That's in case of rain," was the ready answer. "What's your name?" asked the deputy with a frown. "Rathburn." "Where was you heading?"
Then he put a question. "Who is this man Doane? He knew me, for I met him when I was comin' out of the bank, an' he called me by name." "Doane is cashier of the bank down at Hope. He was likely just comin' to work when you met him." Rathburn stared with an incredulous expression. "You're sure?" But even as he put the question, Rathburn placed his man. "I'm dead certain on it," declared Price.
Rathburn saw he was looking down at the turbulent scene in the street of the little village below the mine. Then the boy swayed in the saddle, and Rathburn had just time to fling himself to the ground and catch the senseless form in his arms as it toppled. He put his burden down on the grass beside the trail and led his horse into the timber and tied him.
"Which way you figure on going up?" he asked curiously. "Don't know much about the trails," Rathburn answered. "An' it mightn't attract suspicion if I just struck right out on the road." Sautee shrugged. "Well, that's up to you," he said. "Keep your eye peeled.
After Stub's fourth desertion the saloon-keeper refused to take him again, and for a week the dog lay unmolested in his old place in the sun outside the cabin door, or dozed before the fireplace at night. Then Rathburn bestirred himself and made one last effort, taking the dog quite over the mountain and leaving him tied to a tree.
When Joe Price returned, leading Rathburn's horse which he had fed and watered, and turned over the reins, he spoke swiftly in a low voice: "They'll be watchin' hard for you down the cañon, boy. Bob Long's sure to mean business this 'ere time." "Well, I know it," said Rathburn with a low, mirthless laugh. "I locked him in his own jail this mornin' to get a clean chance to decide to give myself up.
"And I suppose you The Coyote are taking a hand in this business as a matter of principle," sneeringly replied Sautee. "I didn't take a hand," Rathburn pointed out sternly. "You an' Carlisle forced a hand on me, an' I'm goin' to play it out. I've another reason, too," he added mysteriously. "Did you say you had Carlisle?" Sautee asked in feigned anxiety.
At the edge of the timber ensued another long wait, with Rathburn uncommunicative, moodily pacing restlessly back and forth. The horses had another excellent opportunity to rest and the fagged animals took advantage of it. Once or twice Rathburn thought he glimpsed a light far down the valley, but he couldn't be sure.
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