"That's all right," interrupted McIvor, "I believe you. It's only a question of whether I can get her away before her brothers arrive. Because of course you must see that I'm sure to lose her if I shoot Cal or Ewing now. I've simply got to disappear the moment they arrive and stay hid until they go home."
"Well, we can fix it to git her," spoke up Meshackatee at length, "or at least we can make a try. But the first thing to do is to bushwack old Isham and put the fear of God in their hearts. They're riding the hills in bands, or so they tell me, out gunning for Winchester and young Bill; and there's a bunch of them Bassett neutrals that'll soon have to move if some one don't tap off Isham. But here's one hombre, I'm telling you, that ain't skeered of them all—if I can jest git one man for a pardner. A man has got to sleep, and that's where they ketch you, unless you happen to have a pardner to keep watch."
"That is true," agreed Hall, "and I'd be more than pleased to join you if it were not for my promise to Allifair. But under the circumstances, Meshackatee——"
"What, do you mean to say," burst out Meshackatee provocatively, "that you're going to let Isham git away with it? Didn't he try to shoot you down the same time he killed Sharps, and leave you lay for the hogs? Didn't he shoot at your girl when she run out to save you and all but kill her too? I was under the impression——"
"Just a moment," broke in Hall, looking him straight in the eye, "I believe in telling the truth. Back in Kentucky, where I come from, a man who would attack a woman would be run out of the country over night—and his own family would do their part—but I have promised my intended not to join in on this feud, unless by so doing I can save her. But before we go any further—why is it, my friend, that you are so keen for this desperate adventure? As I said before, I believe in telling the truth——"
"Well—there then!" exclaimed Meshackatee, throwing back his shirt and revealing a small star underneath, "I'm a deputy sheriff, that's why. The sheriff and all his deputies was afraid to come in here—leastwise they wouldn't none of 'em come—and I told 'em, gimme a badge and ten dollars a day and I'd go in and git him myself. Yes, Isham—he's the man—and I figger on shooting him on sight. When I quit and called for my pay he told me to go to hell or he'd fill me full of lead; and then, by grab, he made his brag before them Texans that he'd helped do this job on my ears. Well, if he did he's the very, identical rascal I'm looking for; and it's him or me, that's all. Now, the cards are on the table and you can join in or pull out—if you stick you're a deputy sheriff."
"I'll stick," flashed back McIvor, and Meshackatee grabbed his hand. "I knowed it!" he said, and laughed.