"Ever read the 'Fool's Errand'?" Charley chuckled. "No? Well, I have. Jump off and tie the end of your rope to that mesquite root. Quick!" He sprang down, snatched one end of the coil from Jeff's hand and stretched it taut across the road, a foot from the ground. "Now your gun! Quick!" He snatched the gun, tied an end of his own saddle-rope to the stretched one, near the middle, plunged through the mesquite, over a hummock, paying out his rope as he went; wedged the gun firmly in the springing crotch of a mesquite tree, cocked it and tied the loose end of the trailing rope to the trigger. He ran back and sprang on his horse. "Now ride! It's our last chance!" "Kid, you're a wonder!" said Jeff. "You'll do to take along! They'll lope up when they turn down that slope, hit that rope and pile in a heap!" "And my rope will fire the gun off!" shrilled joyous Charley. "They'll think it's us--an ambuscade----" "They'll take to the sand-hills," Jeff broke in. "They'll shoot into the bushes--they'll think it's us firing back, half the time.... They'll scatter out and surround that lonesome, harmless motte and watch it till daylight. You bet they won't go projecting round it any till daylight, either!" He looked up at the sky. "There's the morning star. See it? 'They have ridden the low moon out of the sky'--only there isn't any moon--'their hoofs drum up the dawn.' Then they'll find our tracks--and if I only could see the captain's face! 'Oh, my threshings, and the corn of my floor!'... And by then we'll be in Mexico and asleep.... When Griffith finds that gun--oh, he'll never show his head in Arcadia again!... Say, Charley, I hope none of 'em get hurt when they strike your skip-rope." "Huh! It's sandy! A heap you cared about me getting hurt when you dragged me from my horse!" said Gibson, rather snappishly. "You did hurt me, too. You nearly broke my neck and you cut my arms. And I got full of mesquite thorns when I set that gun. You don't care! I'm only the man that came to save your neck. That's the thanks I get! But the men that are trying to hang you--that's different! You'd better go back. They might get hurt. You'll be sorry sometime for the way you've treated me. There--it's too late now!" A shot rang behind them. There was a brief silence. Then came a sharp fusillade, followed by scattering shots, dwindling to longer intervals. Jeff clung to his saddle-horn. "I guess they ain't hurt much," he laughed. "Wish I could see 'em when they find out! Slow down, kid. We've got lots of time now." "We haven't," protested Charley. "Keep moving. It's hard on the horses, but they'll have a lifetime to rest in. They've telegraphed all over the country. You want to cross the river before daylight. It would be too bad for you to be caught now! Is there any ford, do you know?" "Not this time of year. River's up." "Cross in a boat then?" "Guess we'd better. That horse of yours is pretty well used up. Don't believe he could swim it."