“A puncher from up north picked him out through the window,” spoke up one of the men who had encountered Rathburn outside the resort. “He’d been shot in the forearm by him once––showed us the scar. The robber was The Coyote, all right.”
“Certainly it was him!” roared Brown. “He came in here, tied me up after pulling a gun on me, an’ threatening to kill me, practically, so he wouldn’t have any trouble pulling his trick. Tried to steer me off by saying he didn’t come here to make any trouble. I knew he lied!”
The constable came in as the justice was finishing his irate speech.
“I’m going to lead this chase myself!” cried 37 Brown. “I want The Coyote, and I’m going to get him. I raise that reward to a thousand on the spot, and I know the sheriff will back me up. Get out every man in town that can stick on a horse, and we’ll catch him if we have to comb the hills and desert country till doomsday!”
Already horsemen were gathering in the street outside. Feeling was high, for Dry Lake prided itself on its record of freedom from the molestation of outlaws. The rough element, too, was strong for a man hunt, or anything, for that matter, promising excitement.
A quarter of an hour later Brown, who was accepted as the leader when emergencies involving the law arose, distributed his forces. He sent two posses of twenty men each north and northwest. A third posse of a dozen men started southward. Towns to the west were notified by telephone as was the sheriff’s office. The sheriff said he would be on his way to Dry Lake in an hour. He was amazed that The Coyote should be in his territory. He, too, wanted the outlaw, and he praised Brown for his reward offer.
Judson Brown himself led the posse of thirty men which took the east trail up the foothills. It was an hour past midnight. The moon had risen and was flooding the tumbled landscape with its cold, white light. From different vantage points on ridges high above, two men looked grimly down and saw the moving shadows of the man hunters as they took the trail.