“Now I reckon you know why I ain’t got any idea of taking that money off you,” he said.
“They might not believe you,” returned the other.
“I know what you mean. You mean they might think I was putting up a job on ’em an’ trying to shift the blame on somebody else. It can’t be done, Percy. Listen to this: I was looking through the front window of that place last night when you held it up. Two men that work in the hotel down 50 there came along an’ looked in alongside of me after I warned ’em not to go in. I showed ’em this scar on my arm.” He rolled back his left sleeve disclosing a scar on the forearm about three inches below the elbow.
“I told ’em that scar was made by a bullet from The Coyote’s gun,” Rathburn went on, pulling down his sleeve and drawing his right hand back to the gun he had replaced in its holster. “That scar was made by The Coyote’s gun. I shot myself in the arm by accident some few years ago. Now, here’s the point: Those men will remember me an’ remember that scar. The descriptions the sheriff of that county must have in his office will tell all about that scar. It won’t be hard to identify me by it an’ by the two men that stood out there by the window with me. So they’ll know I didn’t pull the robbery!”
The other man shifted uneasily on his feet.
“An’ that ain’t all, Percy,” Rathburn continued. “Somebody saw me running up the street afterward because they took a couple of shots at me for luck. That’ll dovetail with my story. I’ve never been known to use two guns. An’ if they want any more proof all they’ll have to do will be to stand you up in front of the men you had in line, dressed as you are with that black handkerchief over your face. That’ll settle it. I reckon the sheriff will believe me an’ give me a chance when he hears the facts, or I may not wait for a talk with him.”
“I take it you’ve got me right,” said the captive, compressing his lips. “But if you’re really The Coyote I’ve heard so much about, you’ll give me my gun an’ give me a chance to run for it!”
Rathburn’s laugh jarred on his ears. “Give you 51 a chance an’ take a chance myself on going to the gallows?”
“The gallows!” exclaimed the other. “Oh––I see. But didn’t you say you thought the sheriff would give you a chance if he met you an’ heard your story? At that you don’t have to stay around an’ get taken back to Arizona now.”
“They hang men in this State,” Rathburn interrupted.