"Sure he is," said the boy eagerly. "I bet he can go some, too. He'd have to go for you to have him, wouldn't he? You're The Coyote!"

Rathburn continued to smile with an amused tolerance. But the girl gave a start; her hands flew to her breast, and she stared at the man with wide-open eyes.

"Frankie! What are you saying?" she exclaimed.

The boy triumphantly brought his hands from behind his back. He held out a poster.

"His horse has got CC2 for a brand, just like it says in this bill Ed brought from town!" he cried. "He's The Coyote, all right. But I won't tell," he added quickly, looking at Rathburn.

The man avoided the girl's eyes. The boy laid the poster on the table where she could read it again, word for word.

"Tall--light in complexion--gray or blue eyes--good teeth--horse branded CC2--dangerous----"

And this man was tall and blond, with gray eyes. Five hundred dollars reward!

"I won't tell anybody you've been here," the boy continued. "We won't tell, will we, sis?" He looked at the girl imploringly.

"My brother Ed says what you want you take," said the boy, gazing at the man in admiration. "An' he says you don't rob anybody that can't afford it! He says the banks are insured an' you've been a friend to more'n one that's just gettin' a start in the cattle. I won't tell anybody you've been here, an' I won't let sis tell anybody, either!"

Rathburn was smiling wistfully. "Always tell the truth, sonny," he said in a low voice. "Don't forget that. I wouldn't want you to lie for me. Any man that would want you to lie for him wouldn't be a man a-tall, son. See?"

"But old Brown, the judge, or the sheriff might come along an' want to know if you'd been here!" said the boy in breathless excitement.

"Then tell 'em the truth," said Rathburn smilingly. "Tell 'em a man with a horse branded CC2 was here an' kidded you about your freckles, had something to eat, an' rode away. Don't lie, sonny, no matter what happens."

The girl took a step toward the table. "You--_are_--The Coyote?" she asked in a whisper.

"My name is Rathburn, miss," he replied cheerfully. "In some ways I'm a lot like the man described in that reward notice. An' I'm riding a dun-colored horse branded CC2. I don't like that monicker, Coyote, or I might 'fess up to it."

"Then--if you're him--you're an outlaw!" she stammered.

Rathburn's dreamy look shifted to the boy who was staring at him.

"You'll grow up to be quite a man, son," he said in a fatherly tone.

"Those freckles mean a tough skin. A weak sort of skin tans quick an'

the toughest just sunburns. You're halfway between. That's all right for freckles; but it don't go in life. It's best to be on one side or the other, an' the right side's the best for most folks."

He rose and went for his hat. Then he extracted a roll of bills from a hip pocket and laid a five-dollar note on the table.

"That meal was worth it," he said to the girl with a smile.

She shook her head. "I--I couldn't take it," she said.

"That's clean money, miss. I earned it circ.u.mventin' three of the most ornery card sharps in Arizona."

She continued to shake her head. "You do not understand," she murmured. "It--it wouldn't make any difference. We couldn't take money from a stranger who came to us--hungry. It wouldn't make any difference who you were."

"Aw, we need it, sis!" blurted out the boy. "The Coyote's all right.

He wouldn't lie to us."

Rathburn laughed and, stepping to the boy, ran his fingers in his hair. "I guess I've made a friend," he said in a wistful voice. Then he picked up the bill on the table and stuffed it into the boy's pocket. His eyes encountered the poster again and they clouded. He turned away from it.

"Miss, you'll let me thank you--sure."

She nodded, retreating a few paces.

"Then I'll be going," he said, stepping to the door.

"To--to Dry Lake?" she found the voice to ask.

"Yes. To Dry Lake."

He left the house and in a few minutes reappeared from the direction of the barn, riding his dun-colored horse. He did not stop, but galloped down the valley, waving a hand in farewell which the boy answered.

The day was nearly spent. The sun was low in the west, sliding down like a ball of gold toward the rim of the blue mountains. A stiff breeze had sprung up, driving the heat before it. At the lower end of the valley Rathburn found the trail he had left when he detoured to the ranch. He turned westward upon it, put spurs to his horse, and sped toward town.

It was just as well that the girl could not see the look which came to his face as he rode into the sunset.

CHAPTER III

THE LAW

Night had descended when Rathburn came in sight of the little town on the edge of the foothills. He rode slowly toward it, staring moodily at the flickering lights between interlaced branches which waved and weaved in the wind blowing down from the mountains. In all the distance he had traveled from the lonely ranch where he had met the girl and the boy he had encountered no one. He surmised that the trail to the desert hills to eastward was not a popular one.

As he neared the town he saw that it consisted of one main street with buildings cl.u.s.tered about it, and numerous shacks scattered in the lee of the hills. There were trees close to the eastern end of the street which he was approaching, and when he reached these trees he dismounted, led his horse into the shadows, and tied it.

He walked down the main street, which was illuminated only by the stars and the yellow gleams of light from windows on either side.

There were several resorts, and one in particular seemed the most popular. Rathburn glanced in through the door of this place as he pa.s.sed and saw that it consisted of a bar and numerous tables, where games were in progress. He did not stop but continued on his way.

Few people were on the street; none of them took any especial notice of him. Several doors below the largest resort which he had so casually investigated, he came to a small, one-story, white-painted building, which, save for the door and window in its front, looked like a huge box.

Across the gla.s.s in the door was lettered in gold:

JUDSON BROWN Justice of the Peace Notary Public

A dim light shone within, and, peering through the window, Rathburn saw that this light came from a lamp in a second room behind the little front office.

He looked up and down the street and saw but two pedestrians, both walking up the other side of the thoroughfare with their back to him.

He tried the door stealthily, found it unlocked, and stepped quickly inside. Three strides took him to the door of the inside room.

A man looked up from a small table where he was engaged in writing. He was a stout man, large of countenance, with small black eyes under bushy brows which were black, although his hair was gray. He scowled heavily at the intruder who failed to remove his hat, and who stood, with feet well apart, in the doorway, a whimsical smile playing on his lips.

In a sweeping glance Rathburn saw that the room contained a bed, wardrobe closet, several chairs, and other articles of furniture and decoration of a bedroom and living room. His eyes flashed back to the burly man sitting at the table, pen poised, coolly surveying him with a frown.