"They're on to him," she said in a husky voice. "That man that comed over on the stage with you give a description of him, this mornin', 't made 'em tumble to him after we had throwed 'em off the track. If I ever git a show at him! They knows 'twas Bill. That little devil Dennison is out ag'in."
"Oh, they won't catch him," said Keith; but as he spoke his face changed. "What if he should get drunk and come into town?" he asked himself.
"If they git him, they'll hang him," pursued the girl, without heeding him. "They're all up. You are so popular.
"Me?" exclaimed Keith, laughing.
"It's so," said the girl, gravely. "That Dave Dennison would kill anybody for you, and they're ag'in' Bill, all of 'em."
"Can't you get word to him?" began Keith, and paused. He looked at her keenly. "You must keep him out of the way.'
"He's wounded. You got him in the shoulder. He's got to see a doctor. The ball's still in there."
"I knew it," said Keith, quietly.
The girl gazed at him a moment, and then looked away.
"That was the reason I have been a-pesterin' you, goin' back'ards and for'ards. I hope you will excuse me of it," she said irrelevantly.