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And he had all creation in mind when he guarded the rock-pile. All but Nada. Many times he whimpered for her, just as the great call for her was in Jolly Roger's own heart.
The third afternoon of their hiding, Jolly Roger decided upon action. This afternoon all of the caloric guns of an unclouded sun had seemed to concentrate themselves on the gigantic rock-pile. Though it was now almost sunset, a swirling and dizzying incandescence still hovered about it.
I thought they wouldn't find me away down here, but they did. That's why Peter and I moved over to the big rock-pile at the end of the Ridge. I'm an outlaw. I've done a lot of bad things in the eyes of the law, and I'll probably die with a bullet in me, or in jail. I'm sorry, but that don't help. I'd give my life to be able to tell you what's in my heart. But I can't. It wouldn't be square."
Tooly took the risk of immediate death, in seeking one last, desperate chance for life. Instantly he turned half around, crouched for a spring, and, seemingly by one single leap, went nearly past the rock-pile, so that it partly covered his retreat. Quick as his movements were, they were not swifter than those of the men whose duty was to prevent his escape.
And he had all creation in mind when he guarded the rock-pile. All but Nada. Many times he whimpered for her, just as the great call for her was in Jolly Roger's own heart.
"Sure," answered Denver, "just show me a rock-pile and I'll run him out of town like a rabbit." "And you fought him with rocks!" she said half to herself, "I wish I were as brave as that." "Well, it's all in your mind," expounded Denver. "Some people are afraid to crack an egg but I'm game to try anything once."
And when I've laid you to rest under the rock-pile, Lahoma ain't going to find the variety in me that she now has in the two of us. Besides which, I'm in the fifties myself, and them is halves of hundreds." "Yes," Bill growled, "and give Lahoma time, she'll die, too. Nothing but the mountain'll be left to look out on the plains.
Now, as he came up the darkening gulch, and crunched his way across the rock-pile before the tunnel entrance, he saw the cheerful blaze of a fire in the Mexican's quarters and stopped to question him. "Señor you!" "Yes, José," and Westcott dropped on to a bench. "Anything wrong? You seem nervous." "No, señor. I expected you not to-night; there was a man there by the big tree at sunset."
He was an outlaw, and the police wanted him, but Peter was troubled by the grimness that settled in his master's face. They waited for dusk, and when deep shadows had gathered in the valley McKay led the way out of the rock-pile. An hour later they came cautiously through the darkness that lay between the broken shoulders of Cragg's Ridge.
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