Mr. Manley’s departure had given him his chance. Like a rattler he had struck and glided away. Now he regretted it. Not remorse—Jules Kolto remorseful? But anger, anger at his own foolishness. The hill he had climbed up from evil had been hard and steep. Now, with a single jump, he was just where he had started from!
Jules shook his head bitterly. He had been happy before—well, fairly happy. At least he had known what it was to face a man, then, without fear, turn one’s back and walk away. That was all gone now. He was a fugitive—hunted, trailed by other men.
If he could make Mexico, he would be safe. He would seek his sister. She would understand, would shelter him and help him to come back again. Togas—why, that was the town where Gus had his girl, the girl who hadn’t written, and who had sent Gus to seek forgetfulness in alcohol! Gus—poor, deluded Gus! To worry over a girl! Funny Jules hadn’t recalled that Gus had told him that she lived in Togas. But perhaps it was just as well. He might have given himself away.
How far was it to the Border? A good eight days’ ride, at least. He’d have to leave the river soon. It was too dangerous, anyway, with Teddy and Roy Manley around. But they wouldn’t catch him! Never—never!
Then a sudden thought came to the man. Why, they might not have been chasing him at all! Those cattle—those cows that had wandered on Jake Trummer’s place while he and Gus were in town, drinking! Of course Mr. Manley had gone on ahead to round them up! He had known that. Then the boys followed, to help. That’s what had happened! Jules felt great relief surge through him. They were not chasing him!
He rode forward with a lighter heart. There was some chance for him after all. If he could reach Togas and find his sister, all would be well. He would buy an interest in a small store with his four hundred dollars, then, when he had earned more money, he might send the amount he had stolen back to the X Bar X, just to square things. The horse—well, he’d see about that. It was a fine bronc.
Later that day it rained. The wind beat upon him and the lightning blinded him and the storm left him wet and shivering. He tried to start a fire, but could find no dry wood. He put his hand to his belt for his knife, that he might cut some, then remembered. Teddy Manley had the knife now. He had not really meant to harm the young fellow, just to scare him. But the boy was too quick. Jules grinned faintly. If Teddy had known it, he was the first man ever to get the best of Jules Kolto in a knife fight. The kid sure had nerve!
Well, he would have to do without his fire. But now he could move more openly and with less fear of detection, for night was closing in. Having slaked his thirst, he pulled his belt in another notch, to lessen the pangs of hunger, and rode on. Togas was ahead—Togas and his sister and an easy chair in their tiny patio. Worth living for!
If he reached it with his money still intact, his troubles would be over. He would have enough to start a small business and live the rest of his life in contentment, fearing no man. He would return the four hundred—as soon as he made that much—and send it back to Bardwell Manley. He would start square.
He knew that the region he was now in was a favorite place for bandits. Many gangs had made the banks of Whirlpool River their stronghold in days gone by, and rumor had it that one still flourished—the Denver Smith gang. A lone rider, like Jules, with a roll of bills in his pocket, would be meat for them. He had better stop and camp for the night before he ran across any highwaymen. Jules dismounted. He picketed his horse nearby. Then the former bandit drew his coat about him and lay down to rest, fearful that if he proceeded through these dark woods the money he had stolen would be stolen from him.