The deputy sheriff slipped to the ground. His terror had overcome him, leaving him in happy unconsciousness. Byrne stood looking down upon the man for a moment. His wrist was chained to that of the other, and the pull of the deputy's body was irritating.
Byrne stooped and placed the muzzle of the revolver back of the man's ear. “Justice!” he muttered, scornfully, and his finger tightened upon the trigger.
Then, conjured from nothing, there rose between himself and the unconscious man beside him the figure of a beautiful girl. Her face was brave and smiling, and in her eyes was trust and pride—whole worlds of them. Trust and pride in Billy Byrne.
Billy closed his eyes tight as though in physical pain. He brushed his hand quickly across his face.
“Gawd!” he muttered. “I can't do it—but I came awful close to it.”
Dropping the revolver into his side pocket he kneeled beside the deputy sheriff and commenced to go through the man's clothes. After a moment he came upon what he sought—a key ring confining several keys.
Billy found the one he wished and presently he was free. He still stood looking at the deputy sheriff.
“I ought to croak you,” he murmured. “I'll never make my get-away if I don't; but SHE won't let me—God bless her.”
Suddenly a thought came to Billy Byrne. If he could have a start he might escape. It wouldn't hurt the man any to stay here for a few hours, or even for a day. Billy removed the deputy's coat and tore it into strips. With these he bound the man to a tree. Then he fastened a gag in his mouth.
During the operation the deputy regained consciousness. He looked questioningly at Billy.