They topped the brow of a hill.

A bow-legged little man with his back to them was facing Dan Meldrum.

“I’m going along with yez as far as the border.  You’ll keep moving lively till ye hit the hacienda of old Porf.  Diaz.  And you’ll stay there.  Mind that now, Dan.  Don’t—­”

The ex-convict broke in with the howl of a trapped wolf.  “You’ve lied to me.  You brought yore friends to kill me.”

The six-gun of the bad man blazed once—­twice.  In answer the revolver of the bandy-legged puncher barked out, fired from the hip.  Meldrum staggered, stumbled, pitched forward into the pit.  The man who had killed him walked slowly forward to the edge and looked down.  He stood poised for another shot if one should prove necessary.

Dave joined him.

“He’s dead as a stuck shote, Pat,” the cattleman said gravely.

Ryan nodded.  “You saw he fired first, Dave.”

“Yes.”  After a moment he added:  “You’ve saved the hangman a job, Pat.  I don’t know anybody Washington County could spare better.  There’ll be no complaint, I reckon.”

The little Irishman shook his head.  “That would go fine if you had shot him, Dave, or if Mr. Beaudry here had.  But with me it’s different.  I’ve been sivinteen years living down a reputation as a hellion.  This ain’t going to do me any good.  Folks will say it was a case of one bad man wiping out another.  They’ll say I’ve gone back to being a gunman.  I’ll be in bad sure as taxes.”

Dingwell looked at him, an idea dawning in his mind.  Why not keep from the public the name of the man who had shot Meldrum?  The position of the wound and the revolver clenched in the dead man’s hand would show he had come to his end in fair fight.  The three of them might sign a statement to the effect that one of them had killed the fellow in open battle.  The doubt as to which one would stimulate general interest.  No doubt the gossips would settle on Beaudry as the one who had done it.  This would still further enhance his reputation as a good man with whom not to pick trouble.

“Suits me if it does Roy,” the cattleman said, speaking his thoughts aloud.  “How about it, son?  Pat is right.  This will hurt him, but it wouldn’t hurt you or me a bit.  Say the word and all three of us will refuse to tell which one shot Meldrum.”

“I’m willing,” Roy agreed.  “And I’ve been looking up ancient history, Mr. Ryan.  I don’t think you were as bad as you painted yourself to me once.  I’m ready to shake hands with you whenever you like.”

The little Irishman flushed.  He shook hands with shining eyes.

“That’s why I was tickled when Miss Beulah asked me to come up and turn loose that coyote.  It’s a God’s truth that I hoped he’d fight.  I wanted to do you a good bit of wolf-killing if I could.  And I’ve done it . . . and I’m not sorry.  He had it coming if iver a man had.”