"What all have you got against me?" frowned Rathburn.

"Nothing much," said the sheriff with biting sarcasm; "just a few killings, highway robbery, a bank stick-up, two or three gaming houses looted, and a stage holdup. Enough to keep you in the Big House for ninety-nine years and then hang you."

Rathburn nodded. "You're sure an ambitious man, sheriff. The killings now--there was White and Moran, that you know about, an' a skunk over in California named Carlisle, that you don't know about, I guess. I couldn't get away from those shootings, sheriff."

"How about Simpson and Manley?" countered the official scornfully.

"Not on my list," said Rathburn quickly. "I heard I was given credit for those affairs, but I wasn't a member of the party where they were snuffed out."

"If you can make a jury believe that, you're in the clear," said Long.

"But how about that stage driver yesterday morning?"

Rathburn's face darkened. "I got in from the west just in time to stumble on that gang of rats," he flared. "That's how your men came to see me. The chase happened to come in my direction, that's all."

"If you can prove that, you're all right again," the sheriff pointed out. "The law will go halfway with you, Rathburn."

"An' I probably wouldn't be able to prove it," said Rathburn bitterly.

"Those other things--the bank job an' the gamblin' stick-ups--I was younger then, sheriff, an' no one can say that that bank sharp didn't do me dirt."

"If you can show a good, reasonable doubt in those other cases, Rathburn, I know the court would show leniency if the jury found you guilty on the counts you just mentioned," said the sheriff earnestly.

"I'm minded to believe you, so far as yesterday's work was concerned.

I have an idea or two myself, but I haven't been able to get a good line on my man. He's too tricky. Of course I'm not going to urge you to do anything against your will. I appreciate your position. You're a fugitive, but you have your liberty. Perhaps you can get away clean, though I doubt it. But there's that chance, and you've naturally got to take it into consideration. And you're not _sure_ of anything if you go to trial on the charges there are against you. But it would count like sixty in your favor, Rathburn, if you'd give yourself up."

Rathburn stared at the official speculatively. His thoughts flashed back along the years to the time when he and Laura Mallory had played together as children. He thought of what she had said the night before about the compa.s.s. He shifted uneasily on his feet.

"Funny thing, sheriff, but I had some such fool notion," he confessed.

"It takes nerve, Rathburn, for a man who is wanted to walk in and give up his gun," said the sheriff quietly.

"I was thinking of something else," said Rathburn. "An' I've got to think some more about this that you've sort of put in my head."

"How much time do you want, Rathburn?" asked Long.

Rathburn scowled. "Our positions haven't changed," he said curtly.

"I'm still the man you're lookin' for. I'll have to do my thinkin' on my own hook, I reckon."

"Just as you say," Long said gravely. "Go over what I've told you carefully and don't make any more false moves while you're making up your mind. You wounded one of my men yesterday."

"I shot high on purpose," Rathburn pointed out. "I didn't aim to be corralled just then."

"I know you did," was the sheriff's rejoinder. "I know you could have killed him. I gave you credit for it."

"You give me credit for quite a few things, sheriff," said Rathburn whimsically. "An' now you'll have to give me credit for bein' plumb cautious. It ain't my intention to have my thinking spell disturbed."

His gun flashed in his hand.

"I'll have to ask you to go inside an' occupy one of your own cells, sheriff, while I'm wanderin' around an' debatin' the subject."

"I know you too well, Rathburn," said the sheriff with a grim smile.

"I'm not armed, and I don't intend to obey you. If you intend to shoot you might just as well start!"

Rathburn gazed at him coolly for a moment; then he shoved his gun in its holster and leaped.

Quick as he was, Long was quicker. The sheriff was out of his chair in a twinkling, and he made a flying tackle, grasping Rathburn about the legs. The two fell to the floor and rolled over and over in their struggles.

Although Rathburn was the larger man, the sheriff seemed made of steel wire. He twisted out of Rathburn's holds, one after another. In one great effort he freed himself and leaped to his feet. Rathburn was up instantly. Long drove a straight right that grazed Rathburn's jaw and staggered him, but Rathburn blocked the next blow and succeeded in upper-cutting his left to the sheriff's chin.

They went into another clinch, and the sheriff got the better of the close fighting. Rathburn's face was bleeding, where it had been cut on a leg of the chair, when they were struggling on the floor. The feel of trickling crimson drove him mad. He threw Long off in an amazing burst of strength and then sent his right to the sheriff's jaw with all the force he could put into it.

Long dropped to the floor, and Rathburn raised him and carried him to a door leading into the jail proper. As he drew open the door, he drew his gun and threw it down on the astonished jailer who was dozing in the little office outside the bars.

"Open up!" Rathburn commanded.

The jailer hastened to obey, as he saw the appearance of Rathburn's face and the dangerous look in his eyes.

Rathburn compelled him at the point of his gun to lead the way to a cell in the rear, unlock it, and go inside. Rathburn pushed Long, who was regaining his senses, in after him and took the jailer's keys.

"Tell Long I'm thinkin' over what he told me," he said to the jailer, as he locked them in.

Then he hurried back to the entrance, locked it, and tossed the keys in through the bars.

He wet his handkerchief with ice water from a tank in Long's office, wiped his face clean, and left the building.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

A NEW COUNT

As Rathburn wended his way to an obscure restaurant on a side street of the little town which was the county seat of Mesquite County, his thoughts were busy with what he had learned from the sheriff. He knew the official had been right when he said that it would react in Rathburn's favor if he gave himself up. Some of the counts on which he would be indicted undoubtedly would be quashed; others he might disprove. There was a chance that he might get off lightly; in any event he would have to spend a number of years in prison.

Rathburn looked up at the bright sky. At the end of the street he could see the desert, and far beyond, the blue outlines of the mountains. It seemed to him that the sunshine was brighter on this deadly morning when he struggled with troubled thoughts. Having always lived in the open, liberty meant everything to him.

But constantly his thoughts reverted to Laura Mallory. What did she expect of him? What would she think if he were to give himself up? Her talk of the compa.s.s--his conscience--bothered him. Why should she say such a thing if she didn't feel more than a friendly interest in him?

Did she care for him then?

Rathburn laughed mirthlessly, as he entered the eating house. There was no doubt of it--he was a fool. He continued to think, as he ate; by the time he had finished he found himself in a bad mental state.

He wiped some moisture from his forehead, as he left the restaurant.

For a moment he felt panicky. He was wavering!

The tenor of his thoughts caused him to abandon his caution. He turned the corner by the State Bank of Hope and walked boldly down the street. Few pedestrians were about. None took any special notice of him, and none recognized him. He turned in at the resort he had visited when he first arrived that morning.

He started, as he entered the place. A deep frown gathered on his face. Gomez, Eagen's Mexican henchman, was at the bar. At first Rathburn feigned ignorance of the Mexican's presence; but Gomez smiled at him, his white teeth glistening against his swarthy skin.

Rathburn marveled at the audacity of the Mexican, who undoubtedly was one of those who had held up the stage the day before, in coming boldly into town. Then he recollected that the sheriff had mentioned he had an idea of who was responsible for that job, but had been unable to get a line on his man. Eagen and his gang were evidently well covered up. If such were the case, Eagen himself might be in town.