I've been watching it half an hour. That
dust, if I'm not mistaken, is the Bar Cross coming; they've heard the
news!"
"So, Mr. Lisner, you hadn't a chance to get by with it," said Pringle
slowly and thoughtfully. "If I hadn't balked you, the Barelas stood
ready; if the Barelas failed, yonder big dust was on the way; half
your own posse would have turned on you for half a guess at the truth.
It's a real nice little world--and it hates a lie. A good many people
lay their fine-drawn plans, but they mostly don't come off! Men are
but dust, they tell us. Magnificent dust! This nice little old world
of ours, in the long run, is going right. You can't beat the Game!
Once, yes--or twice--not in the long run. The Percentage is all
against you. You can't beat the Game!"
"It's up to you, Sheriff," said Anastacio briskly. "I can turn you
over to the Bar Cross outfit and they'll hang you now; or I can turn
you over to the Barelas and you will be hung later. Dick Marr was your
friend! Take your choice. You go on down, Pringle, while the sheriff
is looking over the relative advantages of the two propositions. I
think Miss Vorhis may have something to say to you."
* * * * *
She came to meet him; Foy and the Major waited by the horses. "John!"
she said.
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