"Yes, I think they finished there."

The Texan gave a visible sigh of relief. "Say," he asked, presently,
"do you know if they're fordin' at Cow Island this year?"

"Yes, the Two Bar reps come by that way."

"I'm right obliged to you. I reckon I'll head north, though. Canada
looks good to me 'til this here wave of virtue blows over. So long."

"So long, Tex. An', say, there's some of us friends of yourn that's
goin' to see what we kin do about gettin' them indictments squashed.
We don't want to see you boys doin' time fer stretchin' no pilgrim."

"You won't," answered the Texan. "Toddle along now an' hunt up Mr.
Kester's horses. I want room to think." He permitted himself a broad
smile as the other rode at a gallop toward the mountains, then turned
his horse into the coulee he had just left and allowed him his own pace.

"So Purdy ain't dead," he muttered, "or was that damned fool lyin'? I
reckon he wasn't lyin' about that, an' the grand jury, an' the district
attorney." Again he smiled. "Let's see how I stack up, now: In the
first place, Win ain't on the run, an' I am--or I'm supposed to be.
But, as long as they don't dig Win up out of the bottom of some coulee,
I'm at large for want of a party of the first part to the alleged
felonious snuffin'-out. Gosh, I bet the boys are havin' fun watchin'
that diggin'. If I was there I'd put in my nights makin' fresh-dug
spots, an' my days watchin' 'em prospect 'em." Then his thoughts
turned to the girl, and for miles he rode unheeding. The sun had swung
well to the westward before the cowboy took notice of his surroundings.