“If you want me for exhibit A in the evidence I don’t mind going along,” Carver added.
The three additional members of the posse rode up and two of them greeted Carver by name.
“Whenever did you elect to turn outlaw?” one man asked. “Sho! We’ve snarled things up,” he added. “Carver wasn’t into this mess.”
“Do you know this party?” the sheriff inquired.
“Do I?” the man laughed. “If I had a dollar for every one I’ve borrowed off him I’d pay half of ’em back.”
Carver’s name was known to the sheriff. It was certain that he could be found if his testimony was needed later.
“No use holding you,” he said to Carver. “He’s made a clean get-away. I’m a little off my range—no authority here in the Strip; but I wasn’t going to let the line stop me when we was right on his heels.”
“Why were you wanting him?” Carver asked. He raised his eyebrows in evident surprise as the officer gave the details of the Wharton hold-up and announced that the man they had hunted was the wounded one of the quartet.
“They holed up somewheres till dark but we got word they’d headed down this way in the night,” the officer explained. “Likely this fellow was feeling sick and had to hide out. He’d spotted us riding into the sand hills and was just climbing his horse to make a run for it when we sighted him over a mile ahead. He’d posted himself on a ridge so’s he could watch all ways. He’s up on your fresh horse and miles off by now. No use for us to go on. I’ll send word to Oval Springs to the sheriff there that he’s down in this country.”
“Any idea who he might be?” Carver inquired. “Anyone along the line get a look at him?”