At the sound of the heavy footfall of Drew he turned, rose,
his shoulders flattened against the wall behind him like a cornered man
prepared for a desperate stand.
"It's all right," cried Drew. "It's all over, Glendin. Duffy won't press
any charges against Bard; he says that he's given the horse away. And
Calamity Ben is going to live."
"Who says he will?"
"I've just ridden in from his bedside. Dr. Young says the crisis is
past. And so--thank God--there's no danger to Bard; he's free from the
law!"
"Too late," said the deputy.
It did not seem that Drew heard him. He stepped closer and turned his
head.
"What's that?"
"Too late. I've sent out men to--to apprehend Bard."
"Apprehend him?" repeated Drew. "Is it possible? To murder him, you
mean!"
He had not made a threatening move, but the deputy had his grip on the
butt of his gun.
"It was that devil Nash. He persuaded me to send out a posse with him in
charge."
"And you sent him?"
"What could I do? Ain't it legal?"
"Murder is legal--sometimes. It has been in the past. I've an idea that
it's going to be again.
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