"Oh, I ain't Rogue," the stranger laughed. "He's the fella I was speakin' of, an' I can fetch yu to him."
"Much obliged, but I figure I can take care o' li'l Mister Me," the cowboy grinned.
"Well, she's a free country. If yu should find yoreself crowded, head west till yu come to the Split Rock--yu can't mistake her--foller the left trail an' yu'll be looked after. Sabe?"
Jim nodded his thanks and turned away in the direction of the livery stable. Though he had displayed indifference to the man who had warned him, he had no illusions regarding the danger of his position and knew that he must get away from San Antonio without delay. At any moment he might be linked up with that damning description. The gaze of the man he had left followed him for a moment, a sneer of chagrin on his slit of a mouth.
"Can take care o' yoreself, huh? Well, that wouldn't surprise me." he muttered. `But when the deck is stacked, my friend...." He lifted his shoulders. "Rogue wants yu, an' a fella as won't be persuaded must be drove."
Striding down the street, he pushed open the door of one of the smaller saloons and peeped in. Apparently what he saw satisfied him. for he entered. It was a mere dive, dark, dirty, and ill-kept. Three men sitting at a battered table with empty glasses before them, and the Mexican lolling behind the bar, comprised the company. The newcomer called for a drink and remarked aloud, with seeming irrelevance:
"Shore is a sorry sight."
One of the trio at the table, a craggy-faced fellow with greedy little eyes, looked up hopefully. "Yu said it, friend," he grunted. "But when gents is down to bed-rock. .
The stranger laughed. "Oh, that's soon remedied," he said, and signed to the bartender.
While the glasses were being replenished he studied the thirsty ones with an appraising expression of disdain. He did not know them, but he knew their kind. Though they were drinking to him now, he was well aware that they would rob him if opportunity offered.
"yu got me wrong," he explained. "What I was referrin' to was the sight o' five hundred wheels gettin' ready to ride outa this town, to say nothin' of a fine black hoss with a white blaze, an' a saddle the present owner shouldn't have much further use for."
Craggy Face looked up. "Yu tellin' us that jasper Sudden is around?" he asked.
"Just that," the other returned. "Saw him readin' the bill outside the Buckhorn ; he was mighty interested too, an' then he streaks for Juan's livery stable. What do yu guess?"
"If yo're shore, why didn't you hold him up an'" Craggy Face began.
"Collect the mazuma, huh?" the stranger finished. "Well, for one thing, he knows me, an' there's another reason to that why I can't take any part in the affair."
He stressed the last six words and the listeners smirked understandingly ; he was wanted himself, this hombre, and the chance of gaining five hundred dollars would not offset the likely loss of his liberty. Craggy Face again was the spokesman:
"Amounts to this: we take all the risk, an' . "
"All the reward--I don't want none of it," he was told. "I disremember if that notice said `dead or alive.' "
"It did not, an' I'm bettin' that Fourways fella ain't buyin' corpses."
Craggy Face emptied his glass and stood up, the other two following suit. Their informant added a word:
"I guess he'll take the western trail."
The ruffians nodded and went out. The stranger waited to absorb another drink and then did likewise, keeping well behind. Presently he saw the man he had betrayed jog-trotting listlessly along the street, heading--as he had surmised--for the western exit from the town. Callous as he was, he could not but admire the young fellow's nerve.
"He's the right stuff, shore as shootin'," he soliloquized. "Kind o' hombre Rogue can use. If them rats ain't weakened, they gotta do it here ; he'll be in the open soon."
As the black horse approached, he slid round the corner of a shack, from whence he could watch unobserved. Save that his hat was slouched over his face, the wanted rider appeared to be indifferent to his danger. But beneath the brim, his keen eyes scanned each passer-by, alert for the least sign of undue interest in himself, every sense taut and ready for action. So that he was not taken by surprise when three men, strolling aimlessly along the board sidewalk, abruptly swerved into the road in front of him, pulled their guns, and shouted:
"Han's up, Sudden!"
Jim did not hesitate--made no attempt to parley. The revelation of his identity--an astute move on the part of his attackers--would bring them immediate aid. Dropping the reins--already knotted for just such an emergency--over the saddle-horn, his hands went up, but with a gun in each. As they rose he fired both weapons, once, and his opponents on the right and left went down. Then, with a pressure of his knees. Jim jumped Nigger full at the man in the middle Craggy Face. With an oath of dismay, the fellow saw the black thunderbolt hurling itself upon him and tried to leap aside. He nearly succeeded, but the massive shoulder caught and drove him into the dust.
The whole affair had occupied but a few seconds, and by the time the almost petrified pedestrians had realized the facts, the fugitive was two hundred yards away. Ineffectual shots were fired and then he was no more than a diminishing dot on the trail. The man behind the shack smiled felinely and did not join the group round the discomfited reward-hunters.
For some miles Jim rode hard, without looking back. When at length he did so he saw no sign of pursuit and eased his mount. He reloaded his pistols, thrust them back into the holsters, and swore with savage anger at the thought of the price he had had to pay for his freedom. This second exploit had put him definitely outside the pale of the law. Despite the sparse population, the story of it would travel quickly in a land where topics for conversation were few and.news of any kind eagerly retailed.
Head hanging, he puzzled over the problem of what to do. Southern Texas was closed to him--entering any settlement would probably result in having to shoot his way out of it, thus only adding to his unwanted reputation. The nearest border was hundreds of miles distant and he was without supplies. The dull beat of hammering hooves apprised him that he had been careless. Turning, he. saw a compact group of about a dozen riders pounding across the plain. San Antonio was not minded to let a noted desperado escape without making an effort.
The posse was less than half a mile behind and the members of it were doubtless congratulating themselves upon an easy capture when they saw the black horse quicken its stride and begin to draw away. Spurring and quirting their mounts they decreased the gap again, several pulling out their rifles and firing in the hope of a lucky shot. The cowboy felt the wind of a bullet on his cheek, others zipped through the grass beneath the flying feet of his horse, and a cold fury flamed in him.
"That's a game two can play at," he grated.
Dropping the reins, he drew his rifle from the sheath under the fender, twisted round in the saddle and flung four shots at the bunched-up party of pursuers. Two of the ponies wentdown, throwing their riders heavily, a man reeled, clutched at the air, and pitched sideways to the ground. The posse, disorganized by this disaster, pulled up, and the quarry, with a wave of defiance, vanished over a fold in the surface of the plain. His own kind had made him an outlaw, had hunted and fired on him as though he were a dangerous animal. Well, he would accept the verdict.
"Nothin' else for it, Nig," he told his horse. "We gotta find Mister Rogue ; he's our best bet."
It was a small salve to his conscience to reflect that among the desperate class of men he was now being driven to mix with, he was more likely to find those of whom he was in search. From the top of a slight rise he looked for the posse, but it was not in sight.
"Kind o' lost their enthusiasm, mebbe," he said grimly, and rode on.