Grimshaw leaned over and laid a hand on the man's shoulder: "Put up yer horse, boy," he said; "you've got a nice little outfit started here--you an' her. Stay right with it--an' stay on the level. Forgit anything that might of happened a long time ago. It's the things you do now, an' what yer goin' to do that counts. Tex didn't git Purdy--but they was five more of us there to back up his play. We was all of us more or less handy with our guns. An' between the whole of us--we managed to git him. Purdy's dead, Cinnabar--dead as Julius Caesar, an' all his pals is dead--an' whatever he had on you died with him." "There comes Tex, now!" cried Cinnabar, pointing to two riders who appeared outlined for a moment against the opposite valley rim, before beginning the descent of the slope. "He's ridin' McWhorter's blue roan. But who's that with him? Why--it's McWhorter's girl! But, what horse has she got? She busted out of here two or three hours ago ridin' her bay mare!" As the two riders approached across the narrow valley, Grimshaw fingered his stubby beard: "There's a pair to draw to," he muttered. "Do you mean----?" "Yes--that's just what I mean! But, they rode a damn sight faster than what I would, at that." "Hey, Bat! You old reprobate!" called the Texan, as his horse ascended the bank from the creek, "take Cinnabar's cayuse an' beat it for Wolf River! An' you make him scratch gravel! Now's the chance to do me a good turn on account of them four-bits I give you--way back in Las Vegas--remember?" The old half-breed grinned broadly: "_Oui_, A'm 'member dat fo'-bit." Reaching into his shirt he withdrew a half-dollar suspended from his neck by a greasy thong of rawhide. "See, A'm ain' fergit. Dat fo'-bit she giv' me chanc' to pay heem back 'bout seex-seven hondre tam'. W'at you wan' in Wo'f Reevaire? Nodder pilgrim to hang, eh, _bien_?" Joining in the laugh that followed the old half-breed's sally, the Texan rode to his side and handed him some yellow bills. "You hit the trail now--an' hit it hard. An' you show up here tomorrow morning with a preacher an' a round yellow ring--savvy?" "_Oui!_ De pries' an' de ring! _Voila!_" The old man looked straight into the eyes of the girl who sat her horse close beside the Texan. "You gon' mar' heem tomor'?" Janet, blushing furiously, laughed an affirmative. Bat nodded: "Dat good. You git de bes' dam' man on de worl'! Dat Tex mebbe-so she git to be de gov'--de w'at you call, de _president_! But, som'tam' he lak de bad boy an' you got to knock hell out of heem to mak' heem good. Ol' Bat--he know. For er long tam' A'm know heem. You lov' heem lak hell. Een de eye A'm see it--an' een de eye A'm see you gon' to mak heem stay good----" "Hey, you old leather image!" laughed the Texan, "what are you tryin' to do--scare me out?"