"I'm bettin' my little gun to a thousand dollars less than nothin'. Ain't you game? I'm givin' you the long end."
"Never mind," growled Tenlow. "You can talk later."
The boy Collie, recovering from his surprise at the arrest, stepped up to the sheriff. "Where do I come in?" he asked. "You can't pinch Red without me. I was with him that time the guy croaked out on the Mojave. Red didn't kill him. They let us go once. What you doin' pinchin' us again? How do _you_ know--"
"Hold on, Collie; don't get careless," said Overland. "He don't know nothin'. He's followin' orders. The game's up."
Louise whistled Boyar to her and bridled him. The little group ahead seemed to be waiting for her. She led the pony toward the trail. "Did he do it?" she asked as she caught up with Collie.
"No," he muttered. "Red's the squarest pal on earth. Red tried to save the guy--out there on the desert. Gave him all the water we had, pretty near. He dassent to give him all, for because he was afraid it would kill him. The guy fell and hit his head on the rail. Red said he was dyin' on his feet, anyway. Then Red lugged me clean to that tank where you seen us from the train. I was all in. I guess Red saved my life. He didn't tell you that."
"Is he--was he really a cowboy? Can he ride?" asked Louise.
"Can he ride? Say, I seen him ride Cyclone once and get first money for ridin' the worst buckin' bronc' at the rodeo, over to Tucson. Well, I guess!"
"Boyar, my pony, is the fastest pony in the hills," said Louise pensively.
"What you givin' us?" said the boy, glancing at her sharply.
"Nothing. I was merely imagining something."
"Sheriff Tenlow is a splendid shot," murmured Louise, with apparent irrelevance.
They had crossed the meadow. Ahead of the sheriff walked Overland, his slouch gone, his head carried high. Collie noted this unusual alertness of poise and wondered.
"Don't try the brush," cautioned Tenlow, also aware of Overland's alertness.
"When I leave here, I'll ride. Sabe?" And Overland stepped briskly to the trail, turning his back squarely on the alert and puzzled sheriff.
"He's been raised in these hills," muttered the tramp. "He knows the trails. I don't. But--I'd like to show that little Rose-Lady Girl some real ridin' once. She's a sport. I'd ride into hell and rake out the fire for her.... I hate to--to do it--but I guess I got to."