“I know, Riley, he's been here; just gone, in fact.”
“I knew he'd come here the first thing. Just after you left this morning I got the word he'd shot Chesney, and that they were getting together at Carson to go after him; and I hustled out here to warn you that there was nothing you or any one could do for him, that they are bound to have him.”
“He'll have to take his chances. I've done all I could; given him a horse and money. He's started for Texas.”
“He'd better keep going—yes, he better had!” said Reddy.
“I reckon he knows that,” said Rogers significantly. “Well, I've done as much, and more than most honest men would do under similar circumstances, and it's up to Tom to do the rest. He's getting along in life, and I reckon his capers are about at an end.”
“Chesney's dead, you know,” said Reddy.
“No, you don't tell me!” Rogers fell back a step. “You don't mean it, Riley?”
“Died within an hour after he was shot,” said Reddy briefly.
“Well, I just had to help Tom,” said the colonel, after a momentary silence. “It was one of those things I couldn't get out of doing. I've always been doing things for Tom I wouldn't do for any other man alive—but come into the house, I got something I want to show you. Something Tom left with me.”
Rogers conducted Reddy into the dining-room where his own supper was still waiting for him. Mrs. Rogers wearied by the long drive had already eaten and had retired for the night.