"Oh, hell!" said Kelley, disgustedly. "Is Hornaby suspicious of me, too? Well, for that I've a mind to run," and he went out in deep disgust.
As the days went by and no open movement against him took place, his vigilance somewhat relaxed. Mink kept to his lair like some treacherous, bloodthirsty animal, which was a bad sign.
At heart Tall Ed was restless and discontented. Each day he walked the streets of the fly-bit town; dreaming of the glorious desert spaces he had crossed and of the high trails he had explored. He became more and more homesick for the hills. Far away to the north gleamed the snowy crest of the Continental Divide, and the desire to ride on, over that majestic barrier into valleys whose purple shadows allured him like banners, grew stronger. Each night he lifted his face to the stars and thought of his glorious moonlit camps on the Rio Perco sands, and the sound of waterfalls was in his dreams.
"What am I here for?" he asked himself. "Why should I be watch-dog—me, a wolf, a free ranger! Why should I be upholding the law? What's the law to a tramp?"
Had it not been for a curious sense of loyalty to Hornaby, added to a natural dislike of being called a quitter, he would have surrendered his star and resumed his saddle. He owned a good horse once more and had earned nearly two hundred dollars. "With my present outfit I can amble clear across to Oregon," he assured himself, wistfully.
As he stood with uplifted face, dreaming of the mountains, Rosa Lemont came down the street, and as she passed him said in a low voice: "Mink's on the plaza—crazy drunk. Watch out!"
Kelley straightened and cast an unhurried glance around him. No one was in sight but a group of cow-punchers tying their horses in front of a saloon, and a few miners seated on the edge of the walk. Nevertheless, he knew the girl had good reason for her warning, and so, after walking a block or two in the opposite direction, he turned and came slowly back up the main street till he reached Lemont's doorway, where he paused, apparently interested in something across the street.
Rosa came from within and with equally well-simulated carelessness leaned against the door-frame. "Mink's bug-house," she explained, "and got a Winchester. He's just around the corner, waiting for you. He says he's going to shoot you on sight." She stammered a little with excitement, but her voice was low.
"Much obliged, Rosie," he replied, feelingly. "Don't worry. I may see him first. And listen; while I have a chance I want to thank you for pushing that screen onto him. It was a good job."
"That's all right," she answered, hastily. "But please be careful."