Rathburn rode straight up the trail which led from the powder house toward the pass over the big mountain. His eyes were gleaming with satisfaction, but several times they clouded with doubt, and he felt the bank notes in his coat pocket. Each time, however, he would shake his head and push on up the trail with renewed energy.

Looking backward and downward, he could see the posses gathering in the street of the mine village. He sensed the excitement which had followed the sudden disappearance of Sautee and smiled grimly. He saw that the automobile from the hogback had reached the village. Scores of men were clustered about it. He knew Mannix was taking personal charge of the man hunt; but there was a chance to get away!

He looked wistfully eastward. Somewhere off there, beyond the rolling foothills, was the desert. He thrilled. It had been there he had made his first mistake. Goaded by the loss of his small cattle ranch he had taken revenge on the man who had foreclosed on him and others in a similar predicament. He had held up the bank and restored a small measure of the losses. Even then the profit of the unscrupulous money lender had been enormous.

But the law had marked Rathburn. The gunmen who were jealous of his reputation as an expert at the draw had forced him to fall back upon that draw to protect his life. Thus he had been driven to obtain a living in the best way he could, and something 161 in the dangerous, uncertain life of the outlaw had appealed to his wild blood.

Sautee had said the money in his pocket was a good haul. Why not? He looked again to eastward. Over the big mountain––into the timber––a circling back––a straight cut east–––

He knew he could do it. He had evaded posses before––posses composed of trained men who were accustomed to take the man trail. It would actually be rare sport to play with the crowd below. His left hand dropped idly into his coat pocket, and he started as he fingered what was there. Then his brow became furrowed, and he scowled.

“Maybe I ain’t such a good guesser after all,” he muttered. “Maybe I’m just what I told Sautee––a fool.”

He caught sight of a man and a boy above him. Another instant and they were lost to view.

Rathburn suddenly put the spurs to his horse, and the dun surged up the steep trail. As he rode, Rathburn took his rawhide lariat from its place on the saddle. At a point above where the trail twisted about a huge outcropping of rock he turned off, dismounted, and crept to the top of the rocks. Quickly he surveyed the trail above. Then he slipped back down to his horse, got in the saddle, and took up a position just at the lower end of the outcropping, some little distance back from the trail and above it. He held the lariat ready in his hands.

He sat his horse quietly––listening. The wind had died with the dawn, and there was no sound in the hills. The sun was mounting in the sky to eastward. Rathburn looked out over the timbered slopes below with wistful eyes. Suddenly his gaze became alert. The sound of horses upon the rocky trail above the outcropping came to his ears.

Gradually the sound became more and more distinct. 162 He could hear the hoofs of the horses striking against the rock of the trail. He shook out the noose of his rope, and it sang as it whirled in the air.

The head of a horse had hardly pushed past the rock when Rathburn’s noose went swirling downward and dropped true over its target. The man in the saddle loosed a string of curses as he felt the rawhide lariat tighten about his arms and chest. His horse shied, and he was dragged from the saddle, landing on his feet, but falling instantly.

The second horse reared back, and Rathburn’s gun covered the boy in the saddle. Rathburn, keeping tight hold on the rope hand over hand, and retaining his gun in his right hand at the same time, ran down the short pitch. The boy’s horse became still, and while the youth stared Rathburn trussed up the first rider and then stood off to look at him.

“Just takin’ a mornin’ ride, Carlisle?” he asked cheerfully. “Or did you forget something? Don’t make any false moves, kid. I ain’t in a playful mood.”

The boy continued to stare, but Carlisle’s face was black with rage, and curses flowed from his lips.

“That won’t get you anything,” Rathburn said coolly. “You might better be doin’ some tall thinking instead of cussing. You ain’t got the cards stacked for this deal, Carlisle.”

“What’s your game?” Carlisle managed to get out.

“It’s a deep one,” Rathburn replied dryly. “An’ it’s too complicated to tell you now. I’m goin’ to give you a chance to do the thinking I mentioned a while back. I ain’t takin’ your gun or your horse. The only thing I’m takin’ is a chance, an’ I ain’t takin’ it on your account.”

For an instant Rathburn’s eyes burned with fury. Then he dragged Carlisle into the shelter of the rocks, to the side of the trail, and tied his horse near by. 163 Mounting, he motioned to the boy to ride down the trail ahead of him. He looked at the big hat and the overalls the boy wore. The youth looked wildly about and then drove the spurs into his mount and dashed down the trail with Rathburn close behind, calling to him to take it easy.

Just as they reached a spot directly above the powder house the boy reined in his horse. Rathburn saw he was looking down at the turbulent scene in the street of the little village below the mine. Then the boy swayed in the saddle, and Rathburn had just time to fling himself to the ground and catch the senseless form in his arms as it toppled.

He put his burden down on the grass beside the trail and led his horse into the timber and tied him. Next he picked up the boy and made his way down to the powder house. The shouts of many men came to him from far below. He succeeded in getting out the keys and unlocking the padlock which secured the door of the powder house. Then he opened the door, covered the frightened mine manager with his gun, and carried his burden in with one arm.

“One of the accomplices,” he said briefly to Sautee, as he put the lad down and loosened the shirt at the throat. “He’ll come around in a minute.”

Sautee’s eyes were popping from his head. He leaned back upon the cases of dynamite and passed a clammy hand over his brow.

“I’ve got Carlisle, too,” said Rathburn. “Takin’ it all around from under it ain’t a bad morning’s haul.”

Sautee now stared at him with a new look in his eyes––a look in which doubt struggled with terror.

“I don’t believe you are The Coyote!” he blurted out.

“Who do you reckon I might be, if I ain’t?” Rathburn asked quietly.

“You might be some kind of a deputy or something.”

Rathburn laughed harshly. “It just happens I’m the man some folks call The Coyote,” he said. “I don’t like the name, but it was wished on me, an’ I can’t seem to shake it off. If I wasn’t the man you think I am you wouldn’t be in such a tight fix, Sautee.”

Rathburn’s words conveyed a subtle menace which was not lost on the mine manager. Sautee cringed and rubbed his hands in his nervous tension.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Listen!” exclaimed Rathburn.

From below came the echoes of shouts and other sounds which conveyed the intelligence that a large body of men was on the move up to the mine and the mountain slope above.

“They’re after me,” said Rathburn bitterly. “They think I stole the pay-rolls. They can’t get me, Sautee––not alive. An’ if they get me the other way I’m goin’ to see to it somehow that I don’t get blamed for these jobs up here. Now, do you begin to see daylight?”

Sautee wet his dry lips. The figure on the floor stirred. The shouts from below sounded more distinct.

Rathburn’s gun leaped into his hand. “You better start hoping the shootin’ don’t begin till we understand each other, Sautee,” he said grimly. “We’ve come to the show-down!”