"Keep your money, Win," grinned the Texan. "Let me pay for this. This coyote owes me twenty dollars he borrowed from me when I first hit the country an' didn't know him. He's always be'n anxious to pay it, ain't you, Bill? Well, it's paid now, an' you don't need to go worryin' your heart out about that debt no longer." Again the man opened his lips, but closed them hurriedly as Tex reached for the soap. "I'll have to borrow your horse an' saddle for my friend, here," said the Texan, "an' Bat, he'll have to borrow one, too. We'll leave 'em in Timber City." "_Non_!" cried the half-breed, who had paused in the process of changing Alice's saddle to her own horse. "Me--I ain' gon' for bor' no hoss. Am tak' dis hoss an' giv' heem back to Judge Carson. Him b'long over on Sage Creek." "Whad'ye mean, ye red scum!" screamed the man, his face growing purple. "That Circle 12 brand is----" "Ha! Circle 12! De mos' dat Circle 12 she hair-bran'." He stepped into the cabin and reappeared a moment later with some coal-oil in a cup. This he poured into his hand and rubbed over the brand on the horse's shoulder. And when he had pressed the hair flat, the Circle 12 resolved itself into a V 2. The Texan laughed: "I suppose I ought to take you into Timber City, but I won't. I imagine, though, when the Judge hears about this, you'd better be hittin' the high spots. He's right ugly with horse thieves." "Hey, hain't ye goin' to ontie me?" squealed the man, as the four started down the bank with the horses. "You don't suppose I'd go off an' leave a good rope where you could get your claws on it, do you? Wait 'til we get these horses onto the flat-boat, and all the guns around here collected so you can't peck at us from the brush, an' I'll be back." "You gon' on to Timbaire City," said Bat, "an' I'm com' long bye-m-bye. A'm tak' dis hoss an' ride back an' git ma saddle an' bridle." He advanced and removed his hat; "_Adieu, ma'mselle_, mebbe-so I ain' git dere 'til you gon'. Ol' Bat, he lak' you fine. You need de help, som'tam', you mak' de write to ol' Bat an', ba Goss, A'm com' lak' hell--you bet you dam' life!" Tears blinded the girl's eyes as she held out her hand, and as a cavalier of old France, the half-breed bent and brushed it with his lips. He shook the hand of Endicott: "Som'tam' mebbe-so you com' back, we tak' de hont. Me--A'm know where de elk an' de bear liv' plenty." Endicott detected a twinkle in his eye as he turned to ascend the bank: "You mak' Tex ke'p de strong lookout for de posse. A'm no lak' I seen you git hang." "Beat it! You old reprobate!" called the Texan as he followed him up the slope. "How'm I goin' to git my boat back?" whined Long Bill, as the Texan coiled his rope. "Swim acrost. Or, maybe you'd better go 'round--it's some little further that way, but it's safer if you can't swim. I'll leave your guns in the boat. So long, an' be sure to remember not to furget sometime an' pay me back that twenty."