He bound up his wounded leg, and dragged himself on his hands and knees laboriously to the outcrop.

He did not look up; since his pick had crashed into Marshall's brain he had but one blind thought before him--to escape at once! That his revenge and compensation would come later he never doubted.

He limped and crept, rolled and fell, from bush to bush through the sloping thickets, until he saw the red road a few feet below him.
If he only had a horse he could put miles between him and any present pursuit! Why should he not have one?
The road was frequented by solitary horsemen--miners and Mexicans.

He had his revolver with him; what mattered the life of another man if he escaped from the consequences of the one he had just taken?
He heard the clatter of hoofs; two priests on mules rode slowly by; he ground his teeth with disappointment.

But they had scarcely passed before another and more rapid clatter came from their rear.