"Banker Brown," ruined, was trying to elude his mortal foe, and he believed he could do so.
Little had been seen of Brown the remainder of the day, after the business transaction at the bank, and Card-Sharp Cale, and Joe, too, had disappeared.
In disguise, as a miserable, hungry outcast, Captain Joaquin was trying to escape with his life, with a bitter resolve in his heart that, sooner or later, he would square the account with his implacable foe, Deadwood Dick.
Out of camp he stole, unhindered, and off into the hills.
For a time he used caution, but, at last, feeling that escape was assured, he ran, and did not stop until he was nearly breathless.
"Curse you!" he panted, shaking his fist in the direction of the camp. "I have escaped, and you shall yet hear from me! Your inning this time, Dick Bristol, but mine will come!"
He fairly gnashed his teeth in his impotent rage.
"You are not done with Captain Joaquin," he vowed, in emphatic tone. "He will yet suck your life's blood from your veins—and yours, too, accursed Susana! It was all through you that this blow fell upon me. I will take to the road again; I will gather my men around me once more, and nothing shall stop my career."
Of a sudden light flashed upon the scene, and a woman stood before him—Susana—with a leveled revolver!
"I will not bear the blame that does not belong to me," she said, her voice firm, but her face pale. "There was a time when I could, and would, have followed you to death, but you blasted my love by your cruel suspicions. You wrongly accused me, and you would not show mercy where mercy was deserved. You turned my love to hate, and now I am your most bitter foe."