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Page 97
And so Buck McKee, desperado, died like many another ambitious
soul, with expressions of disappointment on his lips.
CHAPTER XVII
A New Deal
Bud Lane, returning to camp, saw the returned Sheriff supporting
the dying murderer of Terrill, and listening to what was
undoubtedly his confession. He stole away before he was
observed.
"It's all up with me," he thought. "Buck has told him. Slim
hates me along o' Polly. I'll get away from here' to-night."
He met Polly by the mess-wagon.
At once she saw that something had happened. Bud was deathly
pale. He trembled when she spoke to him.
"Why, what on earth is the matter?" she asked.
"Nothing. I--" answered Bud, glancing about him, as if seeking
some way to escape.
"You're looking mighty pale--are you sick?" persisted the girl.
"Slim Hoover--he's back--" Bud could scarcely speak. His throat
was parched. Beads of perspiration stood on his forehead.
"What!" cried Polly joyfully. "Is Jack with him?"
"Listen here," exclaimed the young wooer. "Slim's heard about
our goin' to get married, and he's sworn to shoot me at sight--"
It was a lame, halting explanation, but the best Bud could invent
on the spur of the moment. He wanted to get away to have time to
think.
"I don't believe it!" replied Polly indignantly. "Why, Slim--"
In his excitement Bud would not let her continue her defense of
the Sheriff.
"It's so. He's plum locoed. The sun mus' have tetched his
brains out in the desert," he explained, with rapid invention.
"I don't want no run-in with a crazy man. I might have to shoot,
an' Slim's been a good fr'en' of mine. So I'm going to keep out
of his way for a while. I'll ride over to the railroad."
Polly could not comprehend this strange behavior of Bud.
Thinking to make him tell her his trouble by taunting him with
cowardice, she asked:
"Say, look here, are you scared of Slim Hoover? Just let me
handle him."
"No, no," expostulated Bud. "Can't you understand? We've been
such good friends and--and--I can't pull a gun on him--"
Polly was speechless with surprise.
"Here he comes now," shouted Bud. "I'll hide in the wagon
here--"
"Don't hide!" counseled Polly. "Why?"
Bud gave her no answer, for he had already disappeared under the
cover of the mess-wagon.
"I don't like that a little bit. Slim never acted locoed before.
I'll have to be mighty careful, I s'pose, for I think a heap of
both Slim and Bud."
Slim came up to the wagon with his face wreathed in smiles. "If
it ain't Miss Polly--" he yelled.
Polly, having heard that crazy people had to be humored, ran to
meet him, and threw her arms about his neck.
"You dear, sweet, old red-headed thing!" she cried; "when did you
get back? Where have you been? Where's Jack? Have you seen
Echo?" One question was piled upon the other by the
enthusiastic girl--Slim had tried to stop her talking that he
might answer her, but he might as well have tried to check a
sand-storm. Out of breath and puffing, he finally gasped:
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