They get their share--but you can have my part,
Denver. I'm not doing this for money; it's only an object lesson to that
fat-headed sheriff. I'd pay twice this price for the sake of the little
talk I'm going to have with him later on tonight."
"All right--Black Jack," muttered Denver. For it seemed to him that the
voice of the lost leader had spoken. "Play the fool, then, kid. But--
let's feed these skates the spur! The town's boiling!"
Indeed, there was a dull roar behind them.
"No danger," chuckled Terry. "McGuire knows perfectly well that I've done
this. And because he knows that, and he knows that I know it, he'll
strike in the opposite direction to Pollard's house. He'll never dream
that I would go right back to Pollard and sit down under the famous nose
of McGuire!"
The dawn was brightening over the mountains above them, and the skyline
was ragged with forest. A free country for free men--like the old Black
Jack and the new. A short life, perhaps, but a full one.
The coming of the day showed Denver's face weary and drawn. Those moments
in the bank, surrounded by danger, had been nerve-racking even to his
experience.
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