Rathburn's gaze burned into his, but a cool, deliberate light had come into his eyes.

"So you're The Coyote!" Percy said quietly. "I should have recognized you."

"Yes, I'm called The Coyote," said Rathburn, walking slowly toward him. "I'm the man they think robbed that joint down in Dry Lake last night. I'm the man they're looking for. I'm the man they want to make pay for your bungling work. That's the way it's gone for three years, Percy. I've been blamed for job after job that I didn't even know was pulled off till I heard they were looking for me on account of it. But this is one job they'll not be able to lay at my door; for I've got the man who's responsible an' I've got him red-handed!"

"What're you going to do about it?" asked the other coolly.

Again Rathburn's eyes blazed with rage. "Do? Why, I'm just naturally going to take you in all by my lonesome an' turn you over to the sheriff with my compliments."

Rathburn cooled down as he said this, drew tobacco and papers from his shirt pocket, and proceeded to build a cigarette. He looked at his man queerly.

"Now I reckon you know why I ain't got any idea of taking that money off you," he said.

"They might not believe you," returned the other.

"I know what you mean. You mean they might think I was putting up a job on 'em an' trying to shift the blame on somebody else. It can't be done, Percy. Listen to this: I was looking through the front window of that place last night when you held it up. Two men that work in the hotel down there came along an' looked in alongside of me after I warned 'em not to go in. I showed 'em this scar on my arm." He rolled back his left sleeve disclosing a scar on the forearm about three inches below the elbow.

"I told 'em that scar was made by a bullet from The Coyote's gun,"

Rathburn went on, pulling down his sleeve and drawing his right hand back to the gun he had replaced in its holster. "That scar _was_ made by The Coyote's gun. I shot myself in the arm by accident some few years ago. Now, here's the point: Those men will remember me an'

remember that scar. The descriptions the sheriff of that county must have in his office will tell all about that scar. It won't be hard to identify me by it an' by the two men that stood out there by the window with me. So they'll know I didn't pull the robbery!"

The other man shifted uneasily on his feet.

"An' that ain't all, Percy," Rathburn continued. "Somebody saw me running up the street afterward because they took a couple of shots at me for luck. That'll dovetail with my story. I've never been known to use two guns. An' if they want any more proof all they'll have to do will be to stand you up in front of the men you had in line, dressed as you are with that black handkerchief over your face. That'll settle it. I reckon the sheriff will believe me an' give me a chance when he hears the facts, or I may not wait for a talk with him."

"I take it you've got me right," said the captive, compressing his lips. "But if you're really The Coyote I've heard so much about, you'll give me my gun an' give me a chance to run for it!"

Rathburn's laugh jarred on his ears. "Give you a chance an' take a chance myself on going to the gallows?"

"The gallows!" exclaimed the other. "Oh--I see. But didn't you say you thought the sheriff would give you a chance if he met you an' heard your story? At that you don't have to stay around an' get taken back to Arizona now."

"They hang men in this State," Rathburn interrupted.

"But--there wasn't----" The other man faltered, staring.

"One of those shots you fired at the lamp went wild, or glanced off something, an'----" Rathburn lifted his brows significantly.

"Killed somebody!" cried the other.

He staggered back just as a rattle of falling stones signified that hors.e.m.e.n were in the shale on the slope to eastward.

CHAPTER VII

WHERE TO HIDE

For the s.p.a.ce of several seconds Rathburn and his captive looked into each other's eyes. Rathburn's gaze was keen, alert, fired by the quick thinking he was doing. Stark terror showed in the other's look which gradually changed to one of haunting fear and indecision. Then his eyes became clear and he returned Rathburn's glance, cool and questioning.

"Get your horse," ordered Rathburn, running to his own mount.

In a twinkling he had tightened his cinch, caught up the reins, and vaulted into the saddle. His captive was at his side shortly afterward.

"You're still in the lead," Rathburn snapped out; "unless you want to wait for 'em."

The other whirled his horse, sent him flying for the western end of the pocket, with Rathburn close behind. They went up a steep, rocky trail, screened by boulders. When they reached the top of the west rim they looked back and saw four hors.e.m.e.n on the shale slope leading to the pocket. Brown evidently had split up his posse and was literally combing the hills for his quarry.

"They'll know they're on the right trail when they see the remains of our dinner an' my pack down there," remarked Rathburn dryly.

"But they haven't seen us yet," said Percy breathlessly. "If we can make Sunrise Canon Trail we can lose 'em in the mountains--that is if _you_ want to lose 'em."

"Where's the trail?" asked Rathburn.

"'Bout five miles west. It's the only trail goin' up into the big mountains between here an' the other side of the Dry Lake range, an'

it's a tough one."

Rathburn quickly sized up the country ahead. He saw low and high ridges with towering mountains to the right, or north, of them. There were scattering pines on the slopes and patches of timber in the wide ravines, many of which were veritable valleys.

"We'll run for it while they're getting in an' out of that hole," he suddenly decided with a click of his teeth. "Their horses are in no better shape than ours. Slope along."

The other had dug in his spurs even before he got the order. They rode swiftly down the steep trail from the rim of the pocket and fled across an open s.p.a.ce and up the slope of the first ridge.

Rathburn looked back as they crossed it, but could see no sign of their pursuers. His face still was troubled; his gaze kept boring into the back of the man on the horse ahead of him. At times he muttered to himself.

They galloped up the hard bed of a dry arroyo and swung westward across another rock-bound ridge, picking their way carefully among the boulders. Rathburn's face became more and more strained as he noted that the leader evidently knew the country they were in like a book.

Rathburn, with the experience born of years spent in the open places, was able to keep his bearings.

They had followed a course for some miles north of the main trail leading east, the trail by which he had first come into the locality.

Then they had doubled back westward, some miles above that trail, of course, and now were heading almost due north again, in the direction of the mountains which did not appear to be far away. He surmised that they were nearly directly north of the ranch where he had had the meal with the girl and boy.

At the top of the next ridge his guide pointed above them.

"See that crack in the mountain?" he said.

Rathburn nodded as he made out what appeared to be a gash in the steep side of a mountain north of them.

"That's Sunrise Canon," said the other quietly. "There's a trail up that canon into the heart of the mountains where they couldn't catch us--or you, if you want to go alone--in a hundred years!"

He stared steadily at Rathburn.

"Mosey along, then," said Rathburn. "Let's get somewheres before our horses drop."

They kept along the ridge until it was cut by a canon. Here they descended and entered another long, narrow ravine which they negotiated at a gallop. At its upper end they again climbed a steep slope. Their horses were showing the strain of the hours of hard riding. Rathburn realized that they could go but a limited distance.

But the members of the posse most a.s.suredly must be in the same fix so far as their mounts were concerned.

He decided that if they could get into the canon unseen they would be able to rest their horses and remain secure for the night. Next morning they could continue on up into the hills, or slip back by a roundabout way to Dry Lake.