Fifteen minutes afterward Ramsay and the grizzled sheriff from Chuckwalla City were accompanying Miss Gilman up the cañon toward the girl’s camp, while below them the deputies were getting the prisoners loaded up and were bringing the five horses to the cars. All five of those horses had been among the bunch recently stolen from the other side of the range, and two of the deputies were preparing to ride on to Hourglass Cañon and take possession of the herd there.
As the three came to the bend in the cañon, Ramsay halted and drew from his pocket his brother’s deed, still in its torn envelope.
“Sheriff, here’s evidence of a Federal charge to lay against Sidewinder Crowfoot—mail-robbery. I think it will serve to give him a long time in the penitentiary to think upon his sins. Suppose you look it over, while I say a word to Miss Gilman, will you?”
The sheriff met his whimsical gaze, grinned, and then strode on around the bend with the evidence in his hand. Ramsay turned to the girl.
“What do you say about Hourglass Cañon, young lady? Do you want to share it with me?”
“Well, I’ll go and look at it, but I wont promise anything.”
“All right. That’s fair enough. And you’ll call me Pat?”
Her eyes surveyed him merrily.
“Not until—you get a shave!” she said, and then was gone, running after the tall figure of the sheriff, a laugh floating back to Ramsay.
He followed, smiling.