Their eyes met and Endicott turned toward the
door in hope of finding the girl among the crowd that thronged the
street.
Hardly had he reached the sidewalk when he felt a hand upon his arm,
and turned to stare in surprise into the dark features of a
half-breed,--the same, he remembered, who had helped the Texan to
saddle the outlaw. With a swift motion of the head the man signalled
him to follow, and turned abruptly into the deep shadow of an alley
that led along the side of the livery bam. Something in the
half-breed's manner caused Endicott to obey without hesitation and a
moment later the man turned and faced him.
"You hont you 'oman?" Endicott nodded impatiently and the half-breed
continued: "She gon' ridin' wit Purdy." He pointed toward the winding
trail. "Mebbe-so you hur' oop, you ketch." Without waiting for a
reply the man slipped the revolver from his holster and pressed it into
the astonished Endicott's hand, and catching him by the sleeve, hurried
him to the rear of the stable where, tied to the fence of the corral,
two horses stood saddled. Loosing one, the man passed him the bridle
reins. "Dat hoss, she damn good hoss. Mebbe-so you ride lak' hell you
com' long in tam'. Dat Purdy, she not t'ink you got de gun, mebbe-so
you git chance to kill um good." As the full significance of the man's
words dawned upon him Endicott leaped into the saddle and, dashing from
the alley, headed at full speed out upon the winding, sandy trail.
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