A Man Four-Square

Rous

nd, and though both he and Billie were wounded, his hurt at least did not interfere with accurate rifle-fire. But it was not reasonable to expect such good fortune to hold. In the party

ank with the sharp rowel of a spur. The boy was a lover of horses. He had ridden too many dry desert stretches, had too often kept night watch over a sleeping

ant brute for the sake of that life he had come to save. And while he urged

said aloud. "We got to save that girl for Billie, ain't

es and more than once rose so sharply that a heather cat could scarce have clambered up. But Thursday flung his horse recklessly at the path, taking chances of a f

ut off the view to the left, so that he could see for only seventy-five or a hundred yards. B

ly back to the trail. Every step was torture, but he could not stop to think of that now. His quick eye picked a perfect spot for an ambush where a great rock leaned against another at the edge of the bluff. Between the two was a n

ssed he began to tremble violently and to whimper. In spite of his

. "I reckon it's because Billie Prince ain't here that I'm so scairt. I wish

m. Miraculously his nervousness vanished. Every nerve was keyed up

m a trail beneath the hoof of a horse. At the last moment Thurs

er the State of Texas. I might

reached him. His trained ear told hi

long Mexican knife. The brown body of the youth was lithe and graceful as that of a panther. He was smiling over his shoulder at the next rider in line, a heavy-set, squat figure on a round-bellied pinto. That s

y appeared, a man in fringed buckskin breeches and hickory shir

ound of the shot boomed down the gorge the Apache was lifted from the bare bac

k of his pony, swung low to the far side so that only a leg was visible

d shot to miss. One bullet passed through the head of the third Mescal

there helpless, but some impulse of mercy held his hand. The man was that creature accursed in the border land, a renegade who has turned his face against

The foot of his high-heeled boot was soggy with blood, but for the present he had to i

horse freed the renegade. The man scrambled to his feet and ran shakily for the shelter of a boulder. In his

he head-hunter. For four years he had slept on the trail of this man and had at last found him. The scout had fought the Apaches impersonally, without rancor, because a

s movements now. Across the gulch, nearly one hundred and fifty yards f

ory shirt. The eyes of the boy had narrowed to slits of deadly light. He was wary as a hungry wolf and as dangerous. That the girl had dis

the minutes fled. Five of them-ten-a quarter of an hour passed. The re

against the protecting boulder. His laugh

ed, "I swore I'd camp on your trail till I go

wretch quavered

t done nothin' to you

ter guess who it is that's goin' to send yore

the honest-to-God truth. I was aimin' to save her from the 'Paches when

ill laughter. "If you won't guess I'll have to tell you Ever hear of the Clantons, Ranse R

with you-all. I got to

I broke away from 'em. T

ht. I never did go in f

Hugh. I

r what you did to 'Lindy Clanton. I might 'a' knowed I'd find you with the 'Paches. You allus was low-mixed Injun." The

ot that wrong. Dave an' Hugh done that. They're a bad lot. When I found out about 'L

ly. "For I aim to stomp you out like I would a copperhead." Very d

e dust. He promised to reform, to leave the

a Roush whine. I got all day to this job, b

boy. In despair the man was shooting wildly with his revolver. He k

kery. "Try again, Roush. You

r the bend in the ca?o

e leaped to the sh

of you, Roush,

ok cover again behind a scrub live-oak. A memory had flashed to him of the day when he had seen a thi

e. Before the echo had died away the boom of an explosi

His face was a picture of amazement. Some one had

m rode a girl. She was mounted on the barebacked pin

color had ebbed from his lips. At every step a pain shot through his leg.

to Santone. An' now, doggone it, when my finger was on the trigger an' the coyote as

him in astonishment. "

Cela me

I reckon I'm man enough to handle any Roush that ever lived.

been more than seventeen. Both of them bore a marked likeness to the middle-aged man who ha

an hour an' treed a renegade to boot," said young Roubideau. "I'd call it a

r was patent. He could not take hi

ther," the girl s

up the gulch when he was shot. He 'lowed it was up to me to git

the kind of girl that understan

hen the other. "Eh bien! But you are the brave boy! I count it honor to know you. My little Polly, have you not save her? Ah! But I

in' by that of 'Thursday' so that none of the Roush outfit would

we shall remember in ou

p and wrung fervently t

bideau would disgrace him by attempting another embrace. There was someth

pill in my foot. Kindness of one of them dad-gummed Mescaleros. I hate to walk on that laig. I wish yore boy would go up on the bluf

. Now he clutched at a stirrup leather for support, but his fingers could not seem to find