"Shoot to kill--if that's what I'm charged with," and the marshal leaped back as a bullet sung past his head.

As darkness gathered the crowd poured volley after volley into the saloon and the Texan replied sparingly, and between shots he drank whisky. It was dark inside the building and the cowboy could see the flash of the guns in the street. Suddenly the bombardment ceased.

"Wonder what they're up to now," he muttered, peering between the kegs.

He was finding it hard to concentrate his thoughts, and pa.s.sed a hand across his forehead as if to brush away the cobwebs that were clogging his brain. "I've got to out-guess 'em!" He shook himself fiercely: "Le's see, if they rush me in the dark, some of 'em's due to fall down cellar where Ike left the trap open, an' some of 'em's goin' to get mixed up with bottles an' beer-kegs--if I don't shoot they won't know where I am, an' while they're ontanglin' themselves maybe I can slip away in the dark."

A light flared suddenly beyond the wooden part.i.tion, flickered a moment, and burned steadily. The Texan's eyes widened as his hands closed about the b.u.t.ts of his guns: "Goin' to burn me out, eh?" he sneered, and then, with a smile, laid the two guns on the bar, and watched the glow that softened the blackness about the edges of the screen. "They can't burn me without burnin' up their whole d.a.m.n little wooden town," he speculated, "but what in the devil do they want with a light?" With the words on his lips, the light moved, and once more he reached for his guns. A candle appeared around the end of the part.i.tion that formed the doorway. The Texan fired and the room was plunged into darkness. And then--through the inky blackness, thick with the pungent powder smoke, sounded a cry--a jerky, stabbing cry--a cry of mortal fear--a woman's cry--_that_ woman's cry: "_Tex--Tex! Strike a light!_"

The Texan reeled as from a blow, the gun dropped from his nerveless fingers and thudded upon the floor. He leaned weakly against the back bar. He was conscious that his eyes were staring--straining to pierce the blackness in the direction of the sound--and yet, he knew there was nothing there! His mouth went dry and he could distinctly hear his own breathing. He pulled himself jerkily erect and clawed the edge of the bar. His groping hand closed about an object hard and cylindrical. It was the quart bottle of whisky from which he had filled his gla.s.s.

Suddenly, he shuddered. "It's the booze," he thought, "it's got me--at last--I'm--I'm _bugs_!" The bottle slipped through his fingers and rolled along the bar and the air became heavy with the fumes of the liquor that splashed unheeded from its mouth. He pa.s.sed his hand across his brow and withdrew it slippery and wet with sweat.

"_Christ!_" Thickly the word struggled from between the dry lips. He stooped, his hand groping for the gun, his fingers closed uncertainly upon the b.u.t.t, and as he straightened up, the muzzle swung slowly into line with his own forehead. And in that instant a light puff of cool air fanned his dripping forehead. The gun stopped in its slow arc. The lids closed for an instant over the horribly staring eyes. The shoulders stiffened, and the gun was laid gently upon the bar--for, upon that single puff of night air, delicate, subtile--yet unmistakably distinguishable from the heavy powder smoke and the reeking fumes of the whisky, was borne a breath of the wide open places. The man's nostrils quivered. Yes, it was there--the scent of the little blue and white prairie flowers--her flowers. Instantly his brain cleared. A moment before he had been hopelessly drunk: now, he was sober. It was as though the delicate scent had entered his nostrils and cleansed his brain, clearing it of the befuddling fog, and leaving it, wholesome, alert, capable. Poignantly, with the scent of those flowers, the scene of a year ago leaped into memory, when he had stooped to restore them to her hands--there in the tiny glade beside the big boulder.

"Alice!" he cried, sharply.

"Tex!" The name was a sob, and then; "Oh, please--please strike a light!

I'm--I'm--afraid!"

For just an instant the Texan hesitated, a match between his fingers, and his voice sounded strangely hard: "A light, now, will mean they'll get me! But--if you're real, girl, I'll trust you--If you ain't--the quicker they shoot, the better!" There was a scratching sound, a light flared out, and candle outstretched, the girl came swiftly to the bar, and as he held the match to the wick, the Texan's eyes gazed wonderingly into the eyes of blue.

CHAPTER VII

THE TEXAN "COMES A-SHOOTIN'"

Alice Endicott gazed searchingly into the Texan's flushed face and wondered at the steadiness of his eyes. "They--they said you were drunk," she faltered.

The cynical smile that she remembered so well twisted the man's lips: "They were right--partly. I was headed that way, but I'm cold sober, now."

"Then leave your guns here and come with me. You must submit to arrest.

They'll fine you and make you pay for the damages and that will be all there'll be to it."

The Texan shook his head: "No. I told that marshal he couldn't arrest me, an' he can't."

Alice's heart sank. "Please--for my sake," she pleaded. "If you haven't got the money----"

"Oh, I've got the money, all right--a whole year's wages right here in my pocket. It ain't the money, it's the principle of the thing. I made my brag, an' I've got to see it through. They might _get_ me, but they'll never arrest me."

"Oh, please----"

Tex interrupted her sharply, and the girl was startled at the gleam that leaped suddenly from the grey eyes: "What are you doing here? Has he--didn't you an' Win--hit it out?"

"Oh, yes! Yes! Win is here----"

"An' he let you come in alone--an' stayed outside----"

"No--he doesn't know. He's up at the Camerons. I went for a ride, and coming back I saw the crowd, and when they told me the man in here was a Texan, somehow, I just knew it was you."

The gleam faded from the man's eyes and he regarded her curiously; "But, what are you doin' in Timber City--you an' Win?"

"Why, it's our anniversary! We wanted to spend it here where we were married. And besides we've got the grandest scheme. Win wants to see you. Come on, give yourself up, and pay their old fine."

"I won't be arrested," repeated the Texan stubbornly, "an' don't count me in on any scheme with you an' Win." Once more his eyes blazed, and his words came low and tense: "Can't you see--I haven't forgot. I don't reckon I ever will forget! I loved you then, an' I love you now----"

"Don't, don't, Tex! You haven't tried to forget. How many girls have you known since--a year ago?"

"None--an' I don't want to know any! There ain't any more like you----"

Alice interrupted him with a laugh: "Don't be a fool! I know loads of girls--and they're all prettier than I am, and they've got lots more sense, too. Please don't spoil our anniversary this way. There are twenty men out there, and they're all armed, and they've sworn to kill you if you don't give yourself up."

"They better start in killin', then." Throwing back his shoulders, he struck the bar with his fist. "I'll tell you what I'll do--an' that's all I'll do. You go back an' tell 'em I'll pay my fine, an' a reasonable amount of damages if they'll leave my horse outside and let me go away from here. It ain't because I'm afraid of 'em," he hastened to add, "not a man of 'em--nor all of 'em. But, if you want it that way, I'll do it."

"But, we don't want you to go away!" cried the girl. "Win wants to see you."

The cowboy shook his head: "I'm goin' away--an' far away," he answered, "I don't know what his scheme is, an' I don't want to know. We'd all be fools to tackle it. If that plan suits you, go ahead--no arrest--I'll just pay my fine an' go. An' if it don't suit you, you better go back to Win. This is no place for you anyhow. Let 'em go ahead with their killin', if they think they can get away with it."

For a moment the girl hesitated, then, picking up her candle from the bar, she started slowly toward the door. "If I can only get word to Win and Mr. Colston," she thought, "I can delay things until they get here."

"Well, what'd he say?" growled Hod Blake, stepping from among his retainers.

The tone angered the girl and she glanced contemptuously into the eyes that stared boldly at her from beneath the wide hat-brim: "He said that you can't arrest him," she answered defiantly, "and if you knew him as well as I do, you'd know he told the truth."

"Oh-ho, so he's got a record, has he?" leered the marshal. "Mebbe they'll be more to this here business than just pickin' up a plain drunk--little reward money, mebbe--eh?"

"No, no!" cried the girl, "not that! It's just his--his pride. He will never submit to arrest."

"He won't, eh? Well, then he'll shove up the posies!"

"He'll go away peaceably if you give him the chance. He offered to pay his fine and the damages to the saloon, if you'll allow him to ride away unmolested."

"Oh, he will, will he?" sneered the marshal. "It wouldn't take no mind reader to tell that he's goin' to pay them fine an' damages--peaceable or onpeaceable, it don't make no difference to me. But, about lettin'

him ride off without arrestin' him--they ain't nothin' doin'. I said I'd arrest him, an' I will--an' besides, I aim to hold him over a spell till I can find out if they ain't a reward out fer him. If they ain't nothin'

on him what's he anxious to pay up an' git out fer?"

"Oh, can't you listen to reason?"

"Sure, Hod," urged Barras, jumping at the Texan's offer, "listen to reason. He ain't done nothin' to speak of. Let him pay up an' git."

"You shet yer mouth!" snapped the marshal. "They's reason enough in what I said. If they ain't nothin' on him it ain't goin' to hurt him none to hold him over a few days. It'll do him good. Give him a chanct to sober up."

"He's as sober as you are, now," flashed the girl angrily, "an' if he was as drunk as he could get, he'd have more sense than you'll ever have."

"Kind of peppery, ain't you? Well, you c'n go back an' tell him what I said. He c'n take it or leave it. An' while yer gone, I'll jest slip around an' put a couple of more boys guardin' the back door."

The man turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness. Glancing about in desperation, Alice saw the tall man who had first spoken to her, still seated upon a corner of the horse trough, a little apart from the crowd. She hastened to his side: "Will you do something for me?" she asked, breathlessly.