Behind him he heard shouts and men running in the street. He increased his pace until he was running swiftly for the trees where he had left his horse. From above he caught the dying echoes of hoofs flying on the trail up the foothills by which he had come early that night.
The cries down the street increased, a gun barked, and bullets whined over his head.
“The locoed fools!” he panted. “Didn’t they hear that fellow ride away?”
But the shooting evidently was of a promiscuous nature, for he heard more shots around by the rear of the place where the robbery had been committed. No more bullets were fired in his direction as he darted into the black shadows of the trees.
He quickly untied his horse, mounted, rode in the shelter of the timber to the east trail, and began the ascent, urging his horse to its fastest walking gait up the hard trail. The fleeing bandit’s sounds of retreat no longer came to his ears, but he kept on, scanning the open stretches of trail above in 36 the starlight, a disparaging smile playing upon his lips.
Back in the little town excitement was at a high pitch. Extra lamps had been lighted in the resort where a big crowd had gathered. Several men ran to the office of Judson Brown, justice of the peace, while others went in search of the constable.
When Brown failed to answer the summons at his door, some one discovered it was not locked, and the little group of men trooped in to find the justice gagged and handcuffed to his bed. They lighted the lamp and removed the gag. Then acting upon his instructions they took a bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked the handcuffs.
He stood, boiling with rage, while they alternately hurled questions at him and told him of the holdup.
He ignored their questions as to how he came to be bound and gagged and demanded more details of the robbery.
“We took him to be The Coyote,” said the spokesman of the group. He had been one of the men the bandit had lined up. “He was tall, an’ blue or gray eyes, an’–––”