"Boys," he said, "luck come my way and I'm goin' to leave you. You'll have to have a new alcalde now and I only ask one thing before I go. They're goin' to throw a big, tall, hump-backed dastard in here pretty soon. He's only got one eye, but he's got lots of money and I want you to kangaroo him to the limit, and give him this for contempt of court!" He raised the broad strap in the air. "Will you do it?" he yelled, and when they answered with a roar he hurled it into their midst.
"All right then; fight for it, you tarriers!" he shouted, "and the one that gits it is alcalde!"
They fought, and when it was over Pecos Dalhart stepped out of jail, a free man. It is a fine thing to be free, but freedom carries with it certain obligations, one of which is to keep out of jail. Pecos glanced into the jag-cell in passing and decided not to get drunk, at any rate. Then he went down to the office with Boone Morgan.
"Well, Pecos," said that genial official, shaking out a bunch of keys, "you might as well take your property envelope and what money you got left—unless you expect to be back soon," he hinted. "By the way, what you goin' to do after you sober up?"
"Well, I dunno," said Pecos, scratching his head. "I could go back up on the Verde, now Old Crit's in jail, and burn them Spectacle cows he stole off of me back into a Hock-sign—two bars and another circle would make a three-ball sign, all right—but I've quit that line of business. Look at Crit!"
"Oh!" grunted the sheriff, "think you'll quit rustlin', eh? But say, how come you ain't drunk already? I had a little business I wanted to talk over with you, but I thought I'd better wait till you blew off."
"Nope, no more booze for me!" declared Pecos virtuously. "You fellers never git me in here no more. You come so dam' near sendin' me to Yuma for somethin' I never done that I'm goin' to be mighty careful what I do!" He paused and gazed sombrely out of the window and a new courage—the courage of clean clothes and freedom—drew him on to speak. "This is a hell of a thing you call the law," he observed, "now ain't it? How much of a show does a poor man git in your courts with Shepherd Kilkenny ravin' for his life? I'm goin' to git on a good horse and ride, and ride, and ride, until I git away from that dastard; that's what I'm goin' to do!"
The sheriff had laid out the familiar property envelope and was twirling the combination of his safe, but at this last outburst he stopped short.
"You'll do nothing of the kind," he said shortly. "I been tryin' for two years to get Ike Crittenden for stealing cows, and I want you to stay in Geronimo County until we get him cinched! Are you goin' to do it?"
For an instant Pecos met his eye defiantly; then the memory of other cows that he had stolen rose up in his mind and he nodded his head.