"How do you mean?"

"You want Dan Slike caught, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Liar," Billy said to himself. Aloud he remarked. "You've come around, I see. You really believe now that Dan Slike killed Tom Walton and Judge Driver?"

"Certainly, he killed them," avowed the district attorney. "And when he's caught we'll hang him."

"That's the proper spirit, Arthur. I have a theory that, since it seems certain that Dan Slike didn't go to Walton's after he escaped, he went north to the Medicine Mountains."

"Why?"

"You followed his trail north to where the West Fork swings due west and there you lost it, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, it's certain Slike didn't follow the Fork down. That would bring him to the country east of here, and Tom Read County is no place for a murderer. Now, what he did was ride the rocky ground along the Fork till it swung north again, when he'd either swing north with it straight for the Medicine Mountains, or else ride a li'l west of north and hit the Medicines away to the westward of Jacksboro. And in the Medicines you might as well look for a needle in a bale of hay.

He'll lie low there for a spell, probably during spring and summer.

You may depend on it, that's what he's done."

"I believe you're right," agreed the district attorney, striving to inject a note of excitement in his whisper. "I'll have a posse riding that way to-morrow."

"Not a posse. Too many men in a posse. He'd be able to keep out of their way, Slike's no ordinary murderer, Rale. Remember that. He's a killer from Killersville, and he probable knows more about keeping out of sight than a grizzly bear. But one man would have a chance to get him. He wouldn't be expecting one man, do you see?"

"I don't see what you're driving at."

"I mean I'll make a bargain with you, Rale. I'll trade you Slike for myself. You will prosecute these cases against me, if I'm caught. It lies with you whether I get a chance for my alley or not."

"How?"

"You could fail to take advantage of points as they come up. You could. You're clever enough, Gawd knows. Now, in the O'Gorman deal I'd plead not guilty. I killed Tip in self-defense, see? Well, you could let me prove I did mighty easy. Same with the hold-up. I'll get me a clever lawyer who'd take advantage of some flaw in the indictment.

You would draw up that indictment. I don't believe we could risk flaws in both indictments, could we?"

The district attorney could hardly believe his wicked ears. It simply was not possible that Bill Wingo could be such a simpleton as to believe that. "Flaws in both indictments would be a li'l too raw,"

said the district attorney, almost suffocating in the effort to dissemble his glee.

"Yes, well, all right. In the O'Gorman murder trial, you'll let me prove my case, and in the other you'll stick in a flaw. The Tuckleton case you can't do a thing with. There's not enough evidence, so you'll have to let it drop. What do you think of the proposition, Dan Slike for Bill Wingo? You can make a record with Dan Slike too. He hasn't a friend in the county. Another thing. That last bribe of yours I mentioned a while ago. I'll throw in what I know about that for good measure with Slike."

"But why stand your trial at all?" fenced the district attorney. "Why not try to escape?"

"You forget that not ten minutes ago you told me I couldn't possibly escape. You were wrong, naturally. But I don't want to escape. If I did, I'd have these things hanging over me the rest of my life. No matter where I went, I'd always be looking for a warrant waiting for me at every bend in the trail. No, the only sensible way out is to get this thing over with and settled as soon as possible. I don't want to leave Crocker County. I like it here."

"Oh," murmured the district attorney, believing that he knew the reason why Billy Wingo did not care to leave the county. It was a good and sufficient reason, and he expected to release it from jail that very night.

"But you'd have to get supplies from time to time," he said leadingly.

"Your description is in every town by now."

"I'll only go to Jacksboro when I have to buy anything," explained Billy, "and as it happens, I never was there but once and that was five years ago. If I let my beard and hair grow, who'd know me? It would take somebody from Golden Bar to recognize my voice, and I'll take care to keep out of the way of anybody from Golden Bar. Oh, it'll be safe enough. I'll make my camp somewhere on Coldstream Creek and work all through the Medicines from there. I'll get Dan and bring him back.

How about it now--willing to make it easy for me at the trial?"

The district attorney could hardly control his voice. At last the devil had delivered his enemy into his hands. Now he could pay him back for kicking him out into the snow. You bet he could. "I'll do as you suggest," he said, "and drop the Tuckleton case in so far as you and Miss Walton are concerned, and I'll let you win on the other two counts--provided you bring back Dan Slike."

"Fair enough. In the meantime I want a free hand. You'll have to call off the posses that are out after me. You can do that without exciting suspicion. Look how long they've been out."

"I'll manage it," declared the district attorney. "You think the Coldstream is a good place to camp?"

"Sure it is. I've been there before."

"Don't risk going to any other town than Jacksboro."

"I won't," said Billy. "Be sure of that. Well, I guess I'd better be draggin' it. You'll be wanting to let Miss Walton out. By the way, don't forget that I'm not leaving the neighborhood till I hear that Miss Walton is safe at Prescott's and the warrant against her withdrawn. Just bear that in mind, Arthur."

"I will," Arthur said warmly. "Shall I suggest to Miss Walton that a letter would be sure to reach you at Jacksboro--under an a.s.sumed name, of course?"

"It would be hardly worth while," replied Billy. "Unless I catch Dan Slike sooner, I don't expect to be in Jacksboro under a month. Yeah, a month, anyway."

"A month, huh? Here's wishing you luck."

Billy failed to observe the brazenly outstretched hand. "Thanks," he drawled. "So long."

But in spite of the agreement it was noticeable that he kept the district attorney covered till his bootsoles touched the ground beneath the window.

"Are you crazy?" demanded Guerilla Melody when he had heard all, or thought he had, rather. "You don't actually sure-enough trust him, do you?"

"Certainly not," Billy replied calmly, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Certainly I don't trust him. That's why I told him what I did."

Guerilla Melody screwed a forefinger into the side of his head.

"Wheels, wheels, wheels, hear 'em buzz."

"You don't understand, Guerilla. You're all right lots of ways, and I'm your friend, and don't let anybody tell you different, but you haven't any brains, not a brain."

"Now, look here," began indignant Guerilla, "if you----"

"Shut up and listen," Billy cut him short. "I ain't going to the Medicine Mountains a-tall."

"Where _are_ you going?"

"South--after Dan Slike. Don't you see, this fool district attorney won't think of skirmishing after me _south_ of Golden Bar. But I'll bet he'll have posses combin' the Medicines within seven days. And if I haven't read him wrong, he'll have a warrant for the Tuckleton murder issued for me, too."

Guerilla nodded a grave head. "With Miss Walton out of it, he'll have to cinch it on to somebody else. But I don't see yet how finding Dan Slike, always supposin' you do find him, is going to help you any.

You'll still have to stand your own trial. And you ain't thinkin' that Arthur Rale----"

"Oh, angels ever bright and fair! The man doesn't see it yet! I intend to bring in the murderer of Tip O'Gorman and the man who held up the stage, too, while I'm at it. In words of one syllable _that_ is my plan."

The expression on the face of Guerilla Melody was one of awe diluted with doubt. "All by your lonesome?"

"Why not?"