"That's right," said Foy. "I don't know who killed Dick Marr; but I do
know that Creagan, Joe Espalin, and Applegate intended to kill me
last night. They gave me back my sixshooter, that Ben Creagan had
borrowed--and it was loaded with blanks. Then they pitched onto me,
and if it hadn't been for Pringle they'd have got me sure! We left
town at eleven o'clock and rode straight to the Vorhis Ranch."

"I believe you," said Anastacio. "You skip along now, Chris. You're
fit to ride."

"Why shouldn't I stay and see it out?"

"It won't do. For one thing, your thinker isn't working as per
invoice," said Nueces River. "You're in no fix to do yourself justice.
We'll look after your interests. You know some of the posse might be
coming back, askin' fool questions. Pull your freight up to the Bar
Cross till we send for you."

"Well--if you think Pringle isn't running any risks I'll go."

"We'll take care of Pringle. Guess we'll make him sheriff next fall,
maybe--just to keep Anastacio in his place. Drift!"

"No sheriffin' for mine, thanks. Contracting is my line.
Subcontracting!"

"So long, boys! You know what I'd like to say. You gave me a square
deal, you three chaps," said Foy. "Get word to Stella as soon as ever
you can. She thinks I'm a prisoner, you know. You know what I want to
say there, Pringle--tell her for me.... Say! Why don't you all go in