a girl. Can you beat that for cold nerve, him figuring that he'd killed a man, and Bill Dozier and five more on his trail to bring him back to wait and see whether the buck he dropped lived or died—and then to slide over, and call on a lady? No, you can't raise that!"
But the tidings were gradually breaking in upon the mind of Andrew Lanning. Buck Heath had not been dead; the pursuit was simply to bring him back on some charge of assault; and now—Bill Dozier The head of Andrew swam.
"Seems he didn't know her, either. Just paid a call round about dawn and then rode on. Oh, that's the frosty nerve for you! Bill comes along a little later on the trail, gets new horses from Merchant, and runs down Lanning early this morning. Runs him down, and then Lanning turns in the saddle and drills Bill through the head at five hundred yards."
Henry came to life.
"How far?" he said.
"That's what they got over the telephone," said Scottie apologetically.
"Then the news got to Hal Dozier from Merchant's house. Hal hops on the wire and gets in touch with the governor, and in about ten seconds they make this Lanning kid an outlaw and stick a price on his head—five thousand, I think, and they say Merchant is behind it. The telephone was buzzing with it when I left town, and most of the boys were oiling up their gats and getting ready to make a play. Pretty easy money, eh, for putting the rollers under a kid?"
Andrew Lanning muttered aloud: "An outlaw!"
"Not the first time Bill Dozier has done it," said Henry calmly. "That's an old maneuver of his—to hound a man from a little crime to a big one."
