After a time the convict moved sufficiently to prop himself up against the bank. He looked at Van dully. This was the man who had "sent him up"--and saved him from the sand. There was much that lay between them, much that must always lie. He had no issues to dodge. There was nothing cowardly in Barger, despite his ways. "I nearly got you, up yonder," he said, and he jerked his thumb towards the mountains, to indicate the pass where he and Van had met an hour before. Van nodded. "You sure did. Who told you to look for me here?" Barger closed his eyes. "Nothing doing." He could not have been forced to tell. Van smiled. "That's all right." There was no resentment in the tone. Barger looked at him curiously. "What for did you pull me out?" "Don't know," Van confessed. "Perhaps I hated to have the quicksand cheat the pen." "Must have had some good reason," agreed the prostrate man. He was silent for a moment, and then he added: "I s'pose I'm your meat." As before, Van nodded: "I reckon you are." Barger spat. It was his first vigorous indication of returning strength. "Someways," he said, "I'd rather you'd shoot me here, right now, than send me back to the pen. But I couldn't stand fer that!" He made his characteristic gesture towards the river. As Van made no comment the fellow concluded: "I s'pose you need the reward." Van was aware there was ten thousand dollars as a price on the convict's head, a fact which he someway resented. To-day, more than at any time within his life, he felt out of sympathy with law--with man's law, made against man. He began to pull off his boots. "No," he said, "I don't want any State's reward, much less express company money. Maybe if it wasn't for those rewards I'd take you into camp." He inverted his boots and shook out a few grains of sand. Barger glanced at him suspiciously. "What are you goin' to do with me, then, now you've got me to rights?" "Nothing," said Van, "nothing this afternoon." He stood up. "You and I break even, Barger, understand? Don't take me wrong. I'm not turning you loose entirely. You belong to me. Whenever I call for the joker, Matt, I want you to come." He would never call, and he knew it. He merely left the matter thus to establish a species of ownership that Barger must acknowledge. There is law of the State, and law of God, and law of man to man. The latter it was that concerned Van Buren now, and upon it he was acting. Laboriously, weakly, Barger arose to his feet. He looked at Van peculiarly, with a strange light dully firing in his eyes. "I agree to that," he answered slowly. "I agree to that." He put out his hand to shake--to bind his agreement. It was almost like offering his oath. Van took it, and gave it his usual grip. "So long, Barger," he said. "I reckon you need these boots." He waved his hand loosely at the boots that lay upon the ground, went at once to his horse, and mounted to his seat.