"It's pretty bad," replied Duane; and he could not look the
cheerful outlaw in the eyes.

"I reckon it is. Wal, I've had some bad wounds I lived over.
Guess mebbe I can stand this one. Now, Buck, get me some place
in the brakes, leave me some grub an' water at my hand, an'
then you clear out."

"Leave you here alone?" asked Duane, sharply.

"Shore. You see, I can't keep up with you. Brown an' his
friends will foller us across the river a ways. You've got to
think of number one in this game."

"What would you do in my case?" asked Duane, curiously.

"Wal, I reckon I'd clear out an' save my hide," replied
Stevens.

Duane felt inclined to doubt the outlaw's assertion. For his
own part he decided his conduct without further speech. First
he watered the horses, filled canteens and water bag, and then
tied the pack upon his own horse. That done, he lifted Stevens
upon his horse, and, holding him in the saddle, turned into the
brakes, being careful to pick out hard or grassy ground that
left little signs of tracks. Just about dark he ran across a
trail that Stevens said was a good one to take into the wild
country.

"Reckon we'd better keep right on in the dark--till I drop,"