“Wal, shore I don't mean much, I'm sorry to say. Nothin' to make you look like thet.... I hev to be an outlaw, shore as you're born. But—mebbe there's a difference in outlaws.”
She understood him and paid him the compliment not to voice her sudden upflashing hope that he might be one to betray his leader.
“Please take this rope off my feet. Let me walk a little. Let me have a—a little privacy. That fool watched every move I made. I promise not to run away. And, oh! I'm thirsty.”
“Shore you've got sense.” He freed her feet and helped her get up. “There'll be some fresh water any minit now, if you'll wait.”
Then he turned his back and walked over to where Riggs sat nursing a bullet-burn on his leg.
“Say, Riggs, I'm takin' the responsibility of loosin' the girl for a little spell. She can't get away. An' there ain't any sense in bein' mean.”
Riggs made no reply, and went on rolling down his trousers leg, lapped a fold over at the bottom and pulled on his boot. Then he strode out toward the promontory. Half-way there he encountered Anson tramping back.
“Beasley's comin' one way an' Shady's comin' another. We'll be off this hot point of rock by noon,” said the outlaw leader.
Riggs went on to the promontory to look for himself.
“Where's the girl?” demanded Anson, in surprise, when he got back to the camp.