for another party.  And I didn’t have to strain my guesser any, to guess who.  I told him to saw off and get busy quick or I’d have him pinched for playin’ favorites.  Guess he seen I meant business, for he come acrost.  She toots for Antelope six-forty tomorrow mornin’.  This is where I make the grand play as a homesteader, seein’ pore Sundown’s eatin’ on the county.  Kind o’ had a hunch that way.”

“We’ll have to nail it quick.  If you file you’ll have to quit on the Concho.”

“Well, then, I quit.  Sinker is right in line for my bunk.  Me for the big hammer and the little ole sign what says:  ’Private property!  Keep off!  All trespassers will be executed!’ And underneath, kind o’ sassy-like, ‘Bud Shoop, proprietor.’”

CHAPTER XIX

THE ESCAPE

About midnight Corliss and his foreman were awakened by a cry of “Fire!” They scrambled from bed and pawed around in the dark for their clothes.

“Spontinuous conibustication,” said Shoop, with a yawn.  “A Jew clothin’-store and a insurance-policy.  Wonder who’s ablaze?”

“I can see from here,” said Corliss at the window.  “Keep on dressing, Bud, it’s the sheriff’s office!”

“Sundown!” Shoop exclaimed, dancing about inelegantly with one foot halfway down his pants-leg.

They tramped down the stairs and ran across to the blazing building.  A group of half-dressed citizens were passing buckets and dashing their final and ineffectual contents against the spouting flames.

“He’s sure done on both sides if he’s in there,” remarked Shoop.  He ran around to the back of the jail and called loudly on Sundown.  Jumping, he caught the high wooden bars of the window and peered into the rear room.  A rivulet of flame crept along the door that led from the jail to the office.  The room seemed to be empty.  Shoop dropped to the ground and strolled around to the front.  “Tryin’ to save the buildin’ or the prisoner?” he asked of a sweating bucket-passer.

The man paused for a second, slopping water on his boots and gazing about excitedly.  “Hey, boys!” he shouted.  “Get an axe and chop open the back!  The long gent is roastin’ to death in there!”

“And I reckon that’ll keep ’em busy while Sun fans it,” soliloquized Shoop.  “Hello, Jack!” And he beckoned to Corliss.  “He ain’t in there,” he whispered, “But how he got out, gets me!”

“We might as well go back to bed,” said Corliss.  “They’ll get him, anyway.  There’s one of Jim’s deputies on a cayuse now.”

“Where do you reckon he’ll head for?”

“Don’t know, Bud.  If he heads for the water-hole, they’ll get him in no time.”

“Think he set her on fire?”

“Maybe he dropped a cigarette.  I don’t think he’d risk it, on purpose.”

Shoop glanced at his watch, tilting it toward the light of the flames.  “It’s just one.  Hello!  There comes the agent.  Reckon he thought the station was afire.”