ONE WAY OUT
As the horses traversed the two miles of winding trail, Alice Marcum glanced from time to time at the Texan who rode silently at her side. The man's face was grave and he seemed entirely oblivious to her presence. Only once did she venture to speak to him.
"I suppose I ought to thank you, Mr.——"
"Tex'll do," supplied the man, without even the courtesy of a glance.
"—for the very changed attitude of the sheriff, and for the fact that I am to be lodged in the hotel instead of the jail."
The girl thought the Texan's lips drew into their peculiar smile, but he gave no further evidence of having heard and rode on in silence, with his attention apparently fixed upon the tips of his horse's ears. At the edge of town the crowd, with Endicott in its midst, swerved toward the railroad and the girl found herself alone with her jailer. She drew up her horse sharply and glanced back toward the prisoner.
"This way," said a voice close beside her; "we'll go to the hotel, I guess there's enough of 'em to see that the pilgrim gets locked up safe."
"But I—I want to speak to him. To tell him——"
"Never mind what you want to tell him. It'll keep, I reckon."
At the door of the wooden hotel the cowpuncher swung from his horse. "You wait here a minute; I'll go fetch Jennie. She's prob'ly over to the dance. She'll fix you up with a room an' see that you get what you want."