“Tha’s right, Mr. Clanton.  An’ I’ll sure take my Bible oath on it.”

Go-Get-’Em Jim whipped out the forty-five from its holster and fired.  Roush dropped screaming to the ground.  He thought he had been shot.  The bullet had cut the rope above his head.

“Get up,” ordered Clanton in disgust.

Roush rose stiffly.

Jim swung to the saddle of the horse beside him.  “Hit the dust,” he told his captive.

The rider followed the footman to the top of the bluff.  Here Roush was instructed to mount the horse Clanton had been astride all night.  Riding behind the tame bad man, Jim cut across the hills to a gulch and followed it till the ravine ran out in a little valley.  He crossed this and climbed a stiff pass from the other side of which he looked down on Live-Oaks a thousand feet below.

The young man tied the hands of his prisoner behind him.  From a coat pocket he drew a looking-glass, caught the sun’s rays, and flung them upon a house in the suburbs of the town.

Out of the house there presently came a man.  He stood in the doorway a moment before going down the street.  A flash of hot sunlight caught him full in the face.  He moved.  The light danced after him.  Then be woke up.  From the cliff far above friends of his had been wont to heliograph signals during the late Washington County War.

He read the light flashes and at once saddled a horse.  A few minutes later he might have been seen on the breakneck trail that leads across the mountains to the Ruidosa.  After a stiff climb he reached the summit and swung sharply along the ridge to the right.  A voice hailed him.

“Hello, Reb!”

“Hello, Go-Get-’Em!  Thought Goodheart was bringin’ you back a prisoner.”  Quantrell’s old guerrilla looked with unconcealed surprise at the bound man.  He knew the story of Clanton’s deep-rooted hatred of the Roush clan.

“I didn’t sign any bond to stay his prisoner,” Jim answered dryly.  Then, sharply, he turned upon Roush.  “Spill out yore story about Yankie.”

Reluctantly Roush told once more his tale.  He spoke only under the pressure of imminent peril, for he knew that if this ever got back to the men in the chaparral they would kill him with no more compunction than they would a coyote.

“Take this bird down to Billie Prince, Reb.  Tell him I jumped Roush on the Ruidosa, an’ he peached to save his hide.  This fellow is a born liar, but I reckon he’s tellin’ the truth this time.  If he rues back on his story, tell Billie to put an advertisement in the Live-Oaks ‘Round-Up’ and I’ll drop in to town an’ have a stance with Mr. Roush.”

Reb scratched his sunburnt head.  “I don’t aim to be noways inquisitive, Go-Get-’Em, but how come you to wait long enough to take this hawss-thief captive?  I’d ‘a’ bet my best mule team against a dollar Mex that you’d have gunned him on sight.”

“I’ll tell you why, Reb.  He had one rifle an’ one six-gun.  I didn’t have either the one or the other, so I had to borrow his guns before I talked turkey.  By that time I’d changed my mind about bumpin’ him off right now.  When Yankie finds out what he’s been sayin’ he’ll do the trick for me.”