Shortly afterward, the door of Quintell’s desert mansion opened, and its owner stepped onto the veranda. Behind him came Billy Gee, followed by the rest. They set out down the terraced grounds for the street—a strange procession surely, five men and a girl. Dot reached the outlaw’s side and touched his arm.
“Jerome,” she whispered. “I’m afraid. You must not take the risk. You must not meet Sheriff Warburton. He’s looking for you. Don’t you understand, Jerome?” There was a little catch in her voice.
“There’s no need worryin’,” he replied. “If I have to skip out sudden tell Lex I want to see him at the ranch the furst thing in the mornin’. An’ you come along, won’t you? That other chap musta sneaked out after help, but we’ll fool him,” he added.
She kept pace with him, Quintell moodily plodding on before them. Once she looked up at Billy Gee. There were fine lines in his face, she thought, despite the fact that she could only just make out his features in the uncertain light reflecting from the business thoroughfares, some blocks away. Presently, she found herself thrilling over the realization that she was walking beside a popularly supposed “bad man” in action, one who, through her influence, had abandoned his lawless career to get back into the ranks of the law-abiding. But the strange surge of pride she felt was fleeting. The utter hopelessness of the effort struck her with full force. He was a fugitive. He would remain a fugitive until he was captured; even now, Sheriff Warburton was in the country to capture him. Again, she laid her hand on his arm—clutched it.
“Jerome, please! For—for my sake, Jerome, don’t meet Warburton. Let this wretch go. It is too late for revenge. Please—Jerome!” she urged wildly.
He looked down at her and smiled. He opened his mouth to speak but the words were never uttered. A deafening explosion on the main street ahead, broke horribly on the still night, shook the ground under their feet, and brought them to a sudden halt. Quintell, seizing the opportunity to escape, started forward, then stopped in his tracks as his captor’s revolver prodded him in the back.
At that moment, a two-story stone building standing in the brilliantly illuminated center of the camp crumpled before their eyes, crashed into ruins with a muffled roar. A great cloud of dust shot into the air.
“The Searchlight! They’ve—they’ve dynamited the Searchlight!” cried Lex aghast.
“Good heaven!” burst out the elder Sangerly. “Babcock—the men, Lex! They might have been at work—some of them.” A furious cry broke from him. He sprang at Quintell and caught him by the throat. “You devil!” he panted. “Not content with trying to rob us, you destroy our property—the newspaper we wrested from your filthy clutches. You miserable——”
“Father!” Lex dragged the other back forcibly. “Listen! This is no time for that sort of thing. We are in danger, without making matters worse. The camp is backing him, backing him to a man.”