"Whichever one of them two has shot up the other, they hain't goin' to
be took in none peaceable. An' if they've killed one of each other
a'ready, he ain't goin' to be none scrupulous about pottin' you an' me.
Chances is, they've got us covered right now. 'Tain't noways
percautious to go ahead--an' we don't dast to go back! Bat, this is a
hell of a place to be--an' it's your fault. Mebbe they won't shoot a
unarmed man--here Bat, you take my gun an' go ahead. I'll tell 'em
back there how you was game to the last. O-O-o-o-o! I got a turrible
cramp in my stummick! I got to lay down. Do your duty, Bat, an' if I
surmise this here attact, which I think it's the appendeetus, I'll tell
'em how you died with yer boots on in the service of yer country." The
man forced his six-shooter into the half-breed's hand and, slipping
limply from his saddle to the ground, wriggled swiftly into the shadow
of a sage bush.

Bat moved his horse slowly forward as he peered about him. "If Purdy
keel de pilgrim, den A'm better look out. He don' lak' me nohow,
'cause A'm fin' out 'bout dat cinch. Better A'm lak' Sam Moore, A'm
git de 'pendeceet in my belly for li'l w'ile." He swung off his horse
and flattening himself against the ground, advanced cautiously from
bush to bush. At the edge of the depression he paused and stared at
the two figures that huddled close together a few feet ahead. Both
were gazing toward the trail and in the moonlight he recognized the
face of the pilgrim. With a smile of satisfaction the half-breed stood
erect and advanced boldly.

"You com' in tam', eh?" he asked, as with a nod Endicott stepped toward
him and handed him the revolver.

"Yes, just in time. I am deeply grateful to you."