Then I heard a yell, and fearing that
they might shoot--for the cowboy does love to use his gun--I turned
sharp at the saloon corner and rode up the side street, just in time
to see Camp climbing through the window, with Baldwin's head in view
behind him.
Before I had ridden a hundred feet I realized that I had a done-up
horse under me, and, considering that he had covered over forty miles
that afternoon in pretty quick time, it was not surprising that there
wasn't very much go left in him. I knew that Baldwin's cowboys could
get new mounts in plenty without wasting many minutes, and that then
they would overhaul me in very short order. Clearly there was no use
in my attempting to escape by running. And, as I wasn't armed, my only
hope was to beat them by some finesse.
Ash Fork, like all Western railroad towns, is one long line of
buildings running parallel with the railway tracks. Two hundred feet,
therefore, brought me to the edge of the town, and I wheeled my pony
and rode down behind the rear of the buildings. In turning, I looked
back, and saw half a dozen mounted men already in pursuit, but I lost
sight of them the next moment. As soon as I reached a street leading
back to the railroad I turned again, and rode toward it, my one
thought being to get back, if possible, to the station, and put the
letters into the railroad agent's safe.
When I reached the main street I saw that my hope was futile, for
another batch of cowboys were coming in full gallop toward me, very
thoroughly heading me off in that direction.
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