his eyes and smiled faintly. “Guess again, York.”
“You don't mean—”
He nodded. “Right this time—Hardman and Chaves and Reilly. They shot to get us both. With us out of the way they could divide the treasure between them.”
Neil choked. “You ain't bad hurt, old man. Say you ain't bad hurt, Phil.”
“More than I can carry, York; shot through and through. I've been doubtful of Reilly for a long time.”
“By the Lord, if I don't get the rattlesnake for this!” swore Neil between his teeth. “Ain't there nothin' I can do for you, old pardner?”
In sharp succession four shots rang out. Neil grasped his rifle, leaning forward and crouching for cover. He turned a puzzled face toward Leroy. “I don't savvy. They ain't shooting at us.”
“The sheriff,” explained Leroy. “They forgot him, and he doubled back on them.”
“I'll bet Val got one of them,” cried Neil, his face lighting.
“He's got one—or he's quit living. That's a sure thing. Why don't you circle up on them from behind, York?”
“I hate to leave you, cap—and you so bad. Can't I do a thing for you?”
Leroy smiled faintly. “Not a thing. I'll be right here when you get back, York.”
The curly-headed young puncher took Leroy's hand in his, gulping down a boyish sob. “I ain't been square with you, cap. I reckon after this—when you git well—I'll not be such a coyote any more.”
The dying man's eyes were lit with a beautiful tenderness. “There's one thing you can do for me, York.... I'm out of the game, but I want you to make a new start.... I got you into this life, boy. Quit it, and live straight. There's nothing to it, York.”
The cowboy-bandit choked. “Don't you worry about me, cap. I'm all right. I'd just as lief quit this deviltry, anyhow.”
“I want you to promise, boy.” A whimsical, half-cynical smile touched Leroy's eyes. “You see, after living like a devil for thirty years, I want to die like a Christian. Now, go, York.”
After Neil had left him, Leroy's eyes closed. Faintly he heard two more shots echoing down the valley, but the meaning of them was already lost to his wandering mind.
Neil dodged rapidly round the foot of the mountain with intent to cut off the bandits as they retreated. He found the sheriff crouching behind a rock scarce two hundred yards from the scene of the murder. At the same moment another shot echoed from well over to the left.
“Who can that be?” Neil asked, very much puzzled.
“That's what's worrying me, York,” the sheriff returned.
Together they zigzagged up the side of the mountain. Twice from above there came sounds of rifle shots. Neil was the first to strike the trail to the mine. None too soon for as he stepped upon it, breathing heavily from his climb, Reilly swung round a curve and whipped his weapon to his shoulder. The man fired before York could interfere and stood watching tensely the result of his shot. He was silhouetted against the skyline, a beautiful mark, but Neil did not cover him. Instead, he spoke quietly to the other.
“Was it you that killed Phil, Reilly?”
The man whirled and saw Neil for the first time. His answer was instant. Flinging up his rifle, he pumped a shot at York.
Neil's retort came in a flash. Reilly clutched at his heart and toppled backward from the precipice upon which he stood. Collins joined the cowpuncher and together they stepped forward to the point from which Reilly had plunged down two hundred feet to the jagged rocks below.
At the curve they came face to face with Bucky O'Connor. Three weapons went up quicker than the beating of an eyelash. More slowly each went down again.
“What are you doing here, Bucky?” the sheriff asked.
“Just pirootin' around, Val. It occurred to me Leroy might not mean to play fair with you, so I kinder invited myself to the party. When I heard shooting I thought it was you they had bushwhacked, so I sat in to the game.”
“You guessed wrong, Bucky. Reilly and the others rounded on Leroy. While they were at it they figured to make a clean job and bump off York, too. From what York says Leroy has got his.”
The ranger turned a jade eye on the outlaw. “Has Mr. Neil turned honest man, Val? Taken him into your posse, have you?” he asked, with an edge of irony in his voice.
The sheriff laid a hand on the shoulder of the man who had been his friend before he turned miscreant.
“Don't you worry about Neil, Bucky,” he advised gently. “It was York shot Reilly, after York had cut loose at him, and I shouldn't wonder if that didn't save your life. Neil has got to stand the gaff for what he's done, but I'll pull wires to get his punishment made light.”
“Killed Reilly, did he?” repeated O'Connor. “I got Anderson back there.”
“That makes only one left to account for. I wonder who he is?” Collins turned absent-mindedly to Neil. The latter looked at him out of an expressionless face. Even though his confederate had proved traitor he would not betray him.
“I wonder,” he said.
Bucky laughed. “Made a mistake that time, Val.”
“I plumb forgot the situation for a moment,” the sheriff grinned. “Anyhow, we better be hittin' his trail.”
“How about Phil?” Neil suggested.
“That's right. One of us has ce'tainly got to go back and attend to him.”
“You and Neil go back. I'll follow up this gentleman who is escaping,” the ranger said.
And so it was arranged. The two men returned from their grim work of justice to the place where the outlaw chief had been left. His eyes lit feebly at sight of them.
“What news, York?” he asked.
“Reilly and Hardman are killed. How are you feelin', cap?” The cow-puncher knelt beside the dying outlaw and put an arm under his head.
“Shot all to pieces, boy. No, I got no time to have you play doctor with me.” He turned to Collins with a gleam of his unconquerable spirit. “You came pretty near making a clean round-up, sheriff. I'm the fourth to be put out of business. You'd ought to be content with that. Let York here go.”
“I can't do that, but I'll do my best to see he gets off light.”
“I got him into this, sheriff. He was all right before he knew me. I want him to get a chance now.”
“I wish I could give him a pardon, but I can't do it. I'll see the governor for him though.”
The wounded man spoke to Collins alone for a few minutes, then began to wander in his mind He babbled feebly of childhood days back in his Kentucky home. The word most often on his lips was “Mother.” So, with his head resting
