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Updated: June 21, 2025
They were trailing out the boundary of one man's endurance, against fatigue, starvation, and the hatred of his kind. Barger had been at his work once more, slaying and robbing for his needs. He had killed a Piute trailer, put upon his tracks; he had robbed a stage, three private travelers, and a freight-team loaded with provisions.
The pony was halted when the man was at the bank, and back to the convict Van went running, to loosen the bite of the noose. Barger lay prostrate on the earth, his eyes dully blinking in the sun. His feet were bare. They had slipped from his boots, which were buried beyond in the sand. His face had taken on a hue of death.
It was love, pure love for the master on his back, that steeled the mighty sinews in his body. Two shots and two bullets from below proclaimed renewed activities where Barger was once more on his feet. But the man had lost too much ground to recover his advantage. He knew that Van Buren, with a horse like that, could win the high ridge and escape.
He looked at Van peculiarly, with a strange light dully firing in his eyes. "I agree to that," he answered slowly. "I agree to that." He put out his hand to shake to bind his agreement. It was almost like offering his oath. Van took it, and gave it his usual grip. "So long, Barger," he said. "I reckon you need these boots."
He had a letter to deliver; he meant to take it through, though doom itself should yawn across his path. The hour was late; the sun was rapidly sinking. Van pulled up his broncho and debated. Absolute silence reigned in the world of mountains. But if the place seemed desolate, it likewise seemed secure. Nevertheless, death lurked in the trail ahead. Barger was there.
Maybe if it wasn't for those rewards I'd take you into camp." He inverted his boots and shook out a few grains of sand. Barger glanced at him suspiciously. "What are you goin' to do with me, then, now you've got me to rights?" "Nothing," said Van, "nothing this afternoon." He stood up. "You and I break even, Barger, understand? Don't take me wrong. I'm not turning you loose entirely.
Barger spoke with difficulty. "It's different now; they've got you in a hole. Van Buren, I'm your meat! I'm nuthin' but meat, but you acted as if I was a man!" "We're all in a hole it's life," said Van, continuing his attentions to the wounds. "I don't want a cent of blood-money, Matt, if I have to starve on the desert. Now lie where you are, and maybe go to sleep.
He rather felt the man was justified at least in some opinions. Towards Barger he felt no anger, but rather a pity instead. After a time the convict moved sufficiently to prop himself up against the bank. He looked at Van dully. This was the man who had "sent him up" and saved him from the sand. There was much that lay between them, much that must always lie. He had no issues to dodge.
"We heard from A. C. about the prison break, but he wasn't on to which ones they was." "One is Matt Barger," Van informed them. "He's the only one I know." "Matt Barger! Not your Matt Barger?" demanded Gettysburg sharply. Van nodded. "Mine when I had him." Gettysburg arose excitedly. "He ain't come hunting fer you as quick as this?" he inquired uneasily.
What a boyish look had come at last upon the haggard, sunken face! The night wind was chill. He had forgotten for himself, but he thought of it now for Barger. He laid his blankets on the inert limbs and up around the shoulders. Perhaps another hour went by, with Van still sleepless by his charge. The convict stirred. "Van Buren," he said in a hoarse, rattling whisper, "Van "
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