“And suppose we all meet in San Gregario Cañon, down near the mouth of it, about dark on Thursday? Me and Dutch’ll have things framed, wires cut and all that.”
The rest of the gang nodded in agreement, except Roper, who said:
“Let Boots pull out with Swede, and I’ll stay here. I owe a few dollars in Crescent City, and I might want to come back here some day. I’ll ride down with you and Dutch and then come back here.”
“Well, that’s all right,” grunted Kales. “Fix it any old way yuh want to.”
And thus are honest men drawn into evil paths through the need of a few dollars. But the question still remains: Who is an honest man, who is broke, with easy money in sight?
Roper Bates had little stomach for a train-robbery, but he did have a little plan of his own. Money did not mean so much to Roper as a pretty face. He had seen Mrs. Kirk, and the memory of her caused him to calculate deeply.
Roper was not an ignorant person, but a queer kink in his mental make-up caused him to believe that it was inconsistent that this pretty woman should be the wife of a despised sheep-herder. To him it was very unreasonable; a condition to be remedied at once. He did not take the woman’s position into consideration at all.
Roper was no handsome hero; rather he was a homely cowpuncher; but his mirror, if he ever used one, only reflected Roper Bates, which was sufficient for Roper Bates. He was a top-hand, a good pistol shot and took a bath in the Summer. All of which raised him far above the level of sheep-herders.
He had no intentions of being at the mouth of San Gregario Cañon at dark; but he did not mention this fact, as it was nobody’s business except his own. He was free, white and well past twenty-one. Also, on this particular Thursday he had imbibed freely of the juice that cheers, and the world was made up of pastel shades.