"He did have red hair and blue eyes, then?"
"Yes; but there are lots of such all over the world. Red hair and blue eyes generally travel in company. But he was nothing to scare you. You could have wiped him out with one back-handed blow of your fist, let alone usin' shootin' irons, of which there wasn't 'casion, seein' he didn't draw."
"Where is he now?"
"I'll go and see. I suppose he is over at the stable."
Joe went out, but soon returned to say that the Texan had just ridden off, after paying his bill; the stable-keeper did not know where.
"Let him go," murmured Bill. "If he is a man, and not a ghost, I wouldn't raise a hand to hurt him, not for all the gold in the Black Hills. He was so like–so like the chap I dropped in Abilene!"
Bill took another drink, but it seemed as if nothing could lift the gloom which weighed down his heart. Only once did his face brighten. That was when Sam Chichester said there was no use hanging on at Laramie any longer for a bigger crowd; they were strong enough now, and would start for the Hills inside of four-and-twenty hours.
"That's the talk for me!" cried Bill. "I want to get out of here as soon as I can, Joe, and pick me out some sort of a horse. I don't care what, so it'll carry me to the Hills, I can't breathe free any longer where there's such a lot of folks."
"I'll get you a first-chop horse, Bill," said Joe. "There's some half-breeds in a corral just out of town, as tough as grizzlies, and heavy enough for your weight or mine."
"I don't weigh down, as I did," said Bill, with a sigh. "I've been losin' weight for six months back. No matter. It'll be less trouble to tote me when I go under. Remember, boys, when I do, bury me with my boots on, just as I die."