"Sure, sure thing, boys, I don't know who ye be. 'Tain't none of my business. I couldn't name none of you. You don't need to be scairt of me." "You beat it, then, an' lose yerself an' don't yer go stirrin' up no rookus over to the dance, er we'll dangle you a little, too." "Sure. I'm a-goin' now. I----" "Fork over that key first!" "Sure, Tex! Here it is----" "Sure _who_!" rasped a voice close to the sheriff's ear. "I mean--I said---- Here's the doggone key! I was thinkin' of a feller I know'd down to Wyomin'. Tex--Tex--Smith, er some such of a name it was. I mistrusted you was him, an' mebbe you be fer all I know. I don't savvy none of you whatever." "Get a move on, Sam!" "Me! I'm gone! An' you boys remember when 'lection time comes, to vote fer a sheriff that's got disgression an' common sense." And with ludicrous alacrity, the deputy scrambled from the platform and disappeared into the deep blackness of the lumber-yard. The Texan fitted the key into the huge padlock and a moment later the door swung open and a dozen cowpunchers swarmed in. "Come on, pilgrim, an' try on yer necktie!" "We'll prob'ly have to haul down all them wool-sacks an' drag him out from behind 'em." "I think not. If I am the man you want I think you will find me perfectly able to walk." The pilgrim stood leaning against one of the wooden supporting posts, and as a cowboy thrust the lantern into his face he noted the eyes never faltered. "Come along with us!" commanded the puncher, gruffly, as another stepped up and slipped the noose of a lariat-rope over his head. "So I am to be lynched, am I?" asked the pilgrim in a matter-of-fact tone, as with a cowboy on either side he was hurried across the platform and onto a horse. "This ain't no time to talk," growled another. "We'll give you a chanct to empty yer chest 'fore we string you up." In the moonlight the prisoner's face showed very pale, but the cow-men saw that his lips were firmly set, and the hands that caught up the bridle reins did not falter. As the cavalcade started out upon the trail the Texan turned back, and riding swiftly to the hotel, found Bat waiting. "You go in to Number 11 and tell the girl you're ready to start." "You'm mean de pilgrim's girl?" The Texan frowned and swore under his breath: "She ain't the pilgrim's girl, yet--by a damn sight! You take her an' the pack horse an' hit down the river an' cut up through old man Lee's horse ranch onto the bench. Then hit for Snake Creek crossin' an' wait for me." The half-breed nodded, and the Texan's frown deepened as he leaned closer. "An' you see that you get her through safe an' sound or I'll cut off them ears of yours an' stake you out in a rattlesnake den to think it over." The man grinned and the frown faded from the Texan's face. "You got to do me a good turn, Bat. Remember them four bits in Las Vegas!" "A'm tak' de girl to Snake Creek crossin' a'right; you'm don' need for be 'fraid for dat."