"Did Cinnabar loan him that saddle fer any such——?"
"Hold on, now, Cinnabar don't know nothin' about it. Purdy wants to borrow his side-saddle an' Joe says sure."
"He might of know'd if Purdy wanted it, it wasn't fer no good. You're all bad enough, goodness knows, but he was the worst of the lot. I hate Purdy an' you bet he cuts a big circle when he sees me comin'."
"Well, he won't no more," answered the Texan dryly. "Purdy's dead."
"Dead!"
"Yes. He took a pilgrim's girl out on the bench an' the pilgrim got wise to it an' dug out after 'em. Got there just in time an' took a shot at Purdy an' got him."
"Land sakes! I'm glad he did! If they was a few more pilgrims like him that would get about half the rest of you, maybe the others would turn decent, or take to the brush."
The Texan laughed. "Anyway Purdy's dead, an' they've got the pilgrim locked up, an' the girl's held fer a witness, an' I told Sam Moore I'd take a shot at him if he locked her up wherever he's goin' to lock up the pilgrim—in the wool-warehouse I reckon. Anyhow, he told her to go to the hotel an' specified me fer a guard."
"Oh, he did, did he? Well jest you wait 'til I get my hat. I guess maybe she'll be safer with two guards." With a meaning look the girl hurried away and a moment later returned and followed the Texan from the room.
"Why was you so anxious she was to have Number 11, if what you've told me is on the level?" she asked, as they approached the hotel.