told Ramon.

The young Mexican showed no surprise. He seemed resigned to the
situation. "I knew when the señor said to turn my horse loose that he
would seek the horses of his kind. He has gone back to the horses of
those who follow us."

"You said it" said Waring. "And that's going to bother them. It tells me
that the rurales are not far behind. They'll figure that I put you out
of business to get rid of you. They'll look for a dead Mexican, and a
live gringo riding north, alone. But they're too wise to ride up here.
They'll trail up afoot and out of sight. That's your one chance."

"My chance, señor?"

"Yes. Here's some grub. You've got your gun. Drift down the slope, get
back of the next ridge, and strike south. Locate their horses and wait
till they leave them to come up here. Get a horse. Pick a good one. I'll
keep them busy till you get back."

Ramon rose and climbed to the edge of the pocket. "I go," he said sadly.
"And I shall never see the señor again."

"Don't bet all you've got on that," said Waring.

When Ramon had disappeared, Waring led Dex back from the pocket, and,
saddling him, left him concealed in the brush. Then the gunman crept
back to the rim and lay waiting, a handful of rifle shells loose on a
flat rock in front of him. He munched some dried meat and drank from the
canteen.