“He’ll surely kill me on sight,” Scotty burst out. “Yes, he’ll kill you,” agreed the sheriff, “unless you move first.” “Move how?” “Against him. Protect yourself by lining up with me. It’s your only show on earth.” Dailey’s eyes flashed. “Then, by thunder, I ain’t taking it! I’m no coyote, to round on my pardners.” “I give it to you straight. He means murder.” Perspiration poured from the man’s face. “I’ll light out of the country.” The sheriff shook his head. “You’d never get away alive. Besides, I want you for holding up the Limited. The safest place for you is in jail, and that’s where I’m going to put you. Drop that gun! Quick! That’s right. Now, you and I are going out of this saloon by the back door. I’m going to walk beside you, and we’re going to laugh and talk as if we were the best of friends, but my hand ain’t straying any from the end of my gun. Get that, amigo? All right. Then we’ll take a little _pasear_.” As Collins and his prisoner reappeared in the main lobby of the Gold Nugget, a Mexican slipped out of the back door of the gambling-house. The sheriff called Hawkes aside. “I want you to call a hack for me, Del. Bring it round to the back door, and arrange with the driver to whip up for the depot as soon as we get in. We ought to catch that 12:20 up-train. When the hack gets here just show up in the door. If you see Leroy or Neil hanging around the door, put your hand up to your tie. If the coast is clear, just move off to the bar and order something.” “Sure,” said Hawkes, and was off at once, though just a thought unsteady from his frequent libations. Both hands of the big clock on the wall pointed to twelve when Hawkes appeared again in the doorway at the rear of the Gold Nugget. With a wink at Collins, he made straight for the cocktail he thought he needed. “Now,” said the sheriff, and immediately he and Dailey passed through the back door. Instantly two shots rang out. Collins lurched forward to the ground, drawing his revolver as he fell. Scotty, twisting from his grasp, ran in a crouch toward the alley along the shadow of the buildings. Shots spattered against the wall as his pursuers gave chase. When the Gold Nugget vomited from its rear door a rush of humanity eager to see the trouble, the noise of their footsteps was already dying in the distance. Hawkes found his friend leaning against the back of the hack, his revolver smoking in his hand. “For God’s sake, Val!” screamed Hawkes. “Did they get you?” “Punctured my leg. That’s all. But I expect they’ll get Dailey.” “How come you to go out when I signaled you to stay?” “Signaled me to stay, why—” Collins stopped, unwilling to blame his friend. He knew now that Hawkes, having mixed his drinks earlier in the evening, had mixed his signals later.