"It was that devil Nash. He persuaded me to send out a posse with him in charge." "And you sent him?" "What could I do? Ain't it legal?" "Murder is legal--sometimes. It has been in the past. I've an idea that it's going to be again." "What d'you mean by that?" "You'll learn later. Where did they go for Bard?" He did not seem disappointed. He was rather like a man who had already heard bad news and now only finds it confirmed. He knew before. Now the fact was simply clinched. "They went out to your old place on the other side of the range. Drew, listen to me--" "How many went after him?" "Nash, Butch Conklin, and five more. Butch's gang." "Conklin!" "I was in a hole; I needed men." "How long have they been gone?" "Since last night." "Then," said Drew, "he's already dead. He doesn't know the mountains." "I give Nash strict orders not to do nothin' but apprehend Bard." "Don't talk, Glendin. It disgusts me--makes my flesh crawl. He's alone, with seven cutthroats against him." "Not alone. Sally Fortune's better'n two common men." "The girl? God bless her! She's with him; she knows the country. There may be a hope; Glendin, if you're wise, start praying now that I find Bard alive. If I don't--" The swinging doors closed behind him as he rushed through toward his horse. Glendin stood dazed, his face mottled with a sick pallor. Then he moved automatically toward the bar. Murphy hobbled down the length of the room on his wooden leg and placed bottle and glass before the deputy. "Well?" he queried. Glendin poured his drink with a shaking hand, spilling much liquor across the varnished wood. He drained his glass at a gulp. "I dunno; what d'you think, Murphy?" "You heard him talk, Glendin. You ought to know what's best." "Let's hear you say it." "I'd climb the best hoss I owned and start west, and when I come to the sea I'd take a ship and keep right on goin' till I got halfway around the world. And then I'd climb a mountain and hire a couple of dead-shots for guards and have my first night's sleep. After that I'd begin thinkin' of what I could do to get away from Drew." "Murphy," said the other, "maybe that line of talk would sound sort of exaggerated to some, but I ain't one of them. You've got a wooden leg, but your brain's sound. But tell me, what in God's name makes him so thick with the tenderfoot?" He waited for no answer, but started for the door. CHAPTER XL PARTNERS If Drew had done hard things in his life, few were more remorseless than the ride on the great bay horse that day. Starting out, he reckoned coldly the total strength of the gallant animal, the distance to his old house, and figured that it was just within possibilities that he might reach the place before evening. From that moment it was certain that the horse would not survive the ride.