CHAPTER III.
Late that day, a couple of hours before sunset, Duane and Stevens, having rested their horses in the shade of some mesquites near the town of Mercer, saddled up and prepared to move.
"Buck, as we're lookin' fer grub, an' not trouble, I reckon you'd better hang up out here," Stevens was saying, as he mounted.

"You see, towns an' sheriffs an' rangers are always lookin' fer new fellers gone bad.
They sort of forget most of the old boys, except those as are plumb bad.

Now, nobody in Mercer will take notice of me.

Reckon there's been a thousand men run into the river country to become outlaws since yours truly.

You jest wait here an' be ready to ride hard.