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Updated: June 16, 2025
I was thinkin' maybe you double crossed me to make 'em think I was carrying the money while you sneaked it up some other way, Mr. Sautee." "You can think what you want to," said Sautee. "But you better start moving. If I was you, I'd get as far away from this town and Mannix as I could by daylight." Rathburn's manner underwent a lightning change as he threw away his partly finished cigarette.
The breeze, however, which was momentarily freshening, carried his voice away; and Jack Mannix, hearing nothing, continued his conversation. Gimblett was just drunk enough to be virtuously indignant at this incivility, and seating himself on the edge of the bank, swallowed the remainder of the rum at a draught. The effect upon his enforcedly temperate stomach was very touching.
"I've got him dead to rights," replied Rathburn shortly, taking some paper and a pencil from a pocket. Sautee looked at him curiously as he started to write on the paper. "Going to write it all out and leave it?" he asked sneeringly. "I'm going to put it outside the powder house in a place where Mannix or some of the others will be sure to find it," was the puzzling answer.
Mannix grunted, looked at him curiously, and then turned abruptly on his heel and left. Rathburn could not see the door, but he heard the big key grate in the lock, and then the jail room echoed to the clang of hard metal and the door swung shut again. Rathburn sat down on the bunk which was to serve as his bed.
"Then I didn't have the ah nerve, under the circumstances, to come to you with the news. At that, I thought he might go through with it." Mannix swore softly. "Giving a pay-roll messenger's job to a man who's got a price on his head a mile long!" he exclaimed savagely. "Why didn't Carlisle come to me?" Sautee shrugged. "I'm not responsible for Carlisle.
Dupré noted the fact that Mannix had added other laurels to the crown of the house's glory by winning the head master's prize for Greek iambics. Mr. Dupré sat down. Mannix himself, blushing but pleasurably conscious that his honours were deserved, rose to his feet. As President of the Literary Society and a debater of formidable quality, he was well able to make a speech.
But the designer of the steamers of this particular line did not properly appreciate the fact He provided a meagre supply of basins for the passengers, many of whom, in consequence, land at Kingstown Pier in irritable moods, Frank Mannix was one of them. The elderly gentleman, who appeared less than ever a gentleman at five o'clock in the morning, was another.
"Well, now, sheriff, that's right kind of you," Rathburn drawled, concealing his astonishment. "Don't thank me," snapped out Mannix. "This gentleman asked me to set you loose." For the first time Rathburn looked squarely at the other man in the office a thin man, with a cropped mustache, beady eyes, and a narrow face.
"If what Carlisle says is true, it doesn't look as if I was trying to get away, does it, sheriff?" he asked coldly. Mannix was thoughtful for a moment. "Well, come along," he ordered, thrusting the steel bracelets back into his pocket. "I'll go with you," Carlisle volunteered. "That's up to you," snapped out the deputy. "I ain't asking you to."
But if your chief the sheriff finds out that you didn't hit the trail to-night he'll likely ask you for your badge!" "Are you threatening me?" Mannix demanded loudly. "No, I'm only stating facts," Sautee replied stoutly. "That man who calls himself Rathburn is The Coyote!" Mannix didn't start. He appeared hardly interested.
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