“Must be a dead easy one,” the man addressed as Frank said. “Well, you see,” Westcott laughed, nervously, “I doped him pretty well last night—the poor devil coughed so,” he added, in explanation, and the deputy sheriff gave a grunt that might mean anything. It brought a flush of embarrassment to Westcott’s face. “Come on,” he said, shortly, turning toward his office. The deputy climbed into his buggy and drove after him. “Got to hurry, Barker,” Westcott called, opening the door. He escorted his charge briskly outside. “This is Mr. Arnold,” he mumbled, beside the wagon. “A friend of mine that’ll see you fixed all right.” 20The man holding the reins scrutinized Barker closely as the latter climbed up beside him. 20 “All right,” he decided, finally, speaking to Westcott, and handed the attorney a folded paper. “That’s what you were after,” he said, briefly. “So long.” A word to the bay colt and they were swinging down Upper Broadway at a pace that made Barker catch his breath as he noted the narrow road, and the steep cañon-side. “It’d sure be a long fall,” his companion said, answering his look, “But we ain’t goin’ to take it. You can bank on the colt. He’s sure-footed as a deer.” “I ain’t afraid,” Barker responded. The fresh, sweet air was beginning to clear his brain and he sat up straighter, a touch of color coming into his death-like face. The other man avoided his glance, giving all his attention to the colt, who was swiftly putting distance between them and the town. The exigencies of the steep, rough road made such attention necessary and neither man spoke again until they had traversed the narrow pass, and were out of the gulch. A sudden turn of the way brought them among the foothills, the broad, yellow expanse of cactus-dotted plain before them. “Doesn’t seem as far as it did when I footed it in last night,” Barker said at last, with an attempt 21to smile, and Arnold nodded. The bay colt was a good traveler, and they were on the level now, following the road that wound its spiritless,
Prev.
Back
Top