“Well, anyway, Dan, all I want out of this is to get Brown Betty back. I shall not make any complaint against him. So, if he gives up the mare, I’d rather you let him go.”
“Huh,” grunted the Sheriff, with an apprehensive glance at Wilder, a full length ahead. “For God’s sake, Curt, don’t let Jack hear you say that! He’d be so disgusted he’d turn tail and go straight back to Golden!”
The fugitive kept his distance well; it seemed to Conrad’s eye that he even gained a little. Now and again they could see him look back, and with spur and quirt urge the mare to a fresh burst of speed.
“Brown Betty’s a stayer,” said Curtis, bringing his horse beside Tillinghurst’s again, “and she’s fast. I don’t believe we’ll catch him unless something happens to her.”
The Sheriff turned a smiling face and said confidently, “If we get a little nearer I reckon somethin’s likely to happen to him. Hello, Pendleton!” he exclaimed as the stout man came up on the other side. “That noble steed of yours is sure gettin’ a gait on him, ain’t he? If you-all don’t wait for the rest of us there’ll be trouble, I’m tellin’ you!”
“Say, Sheriff,” called Pendleton between his gasps and grunts as he bounced up and down, “are you going to keep up this pace all day?”
Tillinghurst eyed him benignly. “As long as he does,” he said, nodding toward the fleeing spot of black down the road. “Say, Pendy,” he went on in a kindly tone, “it’s a pretty stiff gait for you-all, and unless you’re anxious to take your meals standin’ for the next month you’d better drop out and go back. It’s likely to be an all-day job.”
“Not much! You can’t lose me till the fun’s over!”
“Hooray for Pendy! He’s all right!” yelled a man behind, giving Pendleton’s horse a sharp cut across the flank with his whip. The beast jumped, and its rider lurched to one side, fell forward, and saved himself by grabbing the mane with both hands. The men shouted with merriment as Pendleton righted himself, turned a laughing face and shook his fist at the man who had played the joke on him. “Just wait till I get you where I want you, Jack Gaines,” he called, “and you’ll be sorry you ever played tricks on a tenderfoot.”
The gulch spread out into a wide, shallow valley—a draw, they called it—and the waters of the stream disappeared, sucked up by the thirsty earth. The valley curved to the east, the road climbing over its rim and holding straight toward the south. The figure of Melgares, mounted on Brown Betty as on a pedestal, stood out boldly for a moment against the turquoise sky as he crossed the summit, then sank out of sight beyond the hill. The party galloped on, and as they crossed the ridge and saw him on the top of a smaller hill beyond, Conrad’s eye swept the distance lying between and he exclaimed, “We’ve gained on him!”