—bank robbery,- stage hold-ups, cattle rustlin'—Lord only knows what else.'
'Not a damn word of truth in it,' I stated earnestly. 'I don't know what's got into law officers these days. Seems like they've taken to blaming me for every job pulled in their territories. I swear the only bad step I've made is that job at Kirby's bank.'
'You certain?' Jordan said sharply. 'I don't want to hear any lies.'
'I sure as hell am. I'm just being blamed for a lot of jobs somebody else pulls. You know, give a dog a bad name—'
'I know how that goes,' he growled an interruption. 'Such things have happened before. For the present I'll take your word for it. But that don't clear you of the Banker Kirby business.'
'I reckon not,' I conceded glumly.
'Get yourself a good lawyer when we get back. A smart man could, maybe, get your sentence reduced a heap.' I didn't have any answer to that, only a queer sinking feeling. Bars of steel, stone walls. A shudder coursed along my spine. Jordan glanced narrowly at me, saying, 'You cold?' He tossed another mesquite branch on the fire. I started to roll a cigarette while he refilled his smelly briar pipe.
'Y'know,' he went on, 'I've wondered about those reward bills. Couldn't figure out how you could hit so many places so fast, unless your hawss had wings to speed you up. Thought there might be something fishy about those bills. It was like somebody had a grudge against you and was out to put you away for good, or get you killed. What's back of it, Cardinal?'
'You got me. I just never could understand it.'
'You got any enemies in high places, men with influence?'
'The only enemy I can think of is Skinflint Kirby.'
'Pshaw! Kirby wouldn't pay out the cash required for all those wanted bills. He'd do anything else to put you behind bars, though.'
'That's as I see it, but I can't put a finger on anything else.'
We chewed the rag a while longer and eventually got to calling each other by first names. Even if he was taking me in for trial, I couldn't help liking him. I said finally, 'Anyway, thanks a lot.'
'For what?'—sharply.
'For not putting a slug through my carcass when you had the chance, as some law officers might have done.'
He glared at me a moment. '
'I could forget it easier than I could some other things,' I answered glumly.
'Yeah, I reckon so,' he agreed. 'Well, if we're to get a good start back, in the morning, I reckon we'd better turn in. I note you didn't have a bedroll with you.'
'Me, I'm forced to travel light,' I said bitterly, 'light and fast and always glancing back over my shoulder. My saddle blanket serves when it's chilly.'
'Yeah, I know how it is,' he said shortly. 'I got jammed up once myself, when I was a button, but it all passed over. You can roll into one of my blankets.'
He rose and stretched, yawned. I got to my feet and sauntered out to the edge of the big flat rock, with the rushing water, foaming and swirling, just below me. The moon was lower now, but it was still tossing diamonds about on the surface of the river.
Webb Jordan had followed me out to the edge of the rock. He drew a long satisfied breath and sniffed the clear cool air. 'It sure is real pretty tonight, ain't it?' he commented.
I agreed that it sure was. Low as I was feeling at that moment I could still appreciate the beauty of the night. We hesitated a moment longer, drinking it in, and then as we started to turn back he said, almost apologetically, 'Johnny, I hate to say this, but I'm going to have to put the bracelets on you while we get our shut- eye. Got to be legal and all that, should anything happen—'
And then something happened:
As we turned back he put one foot down on a weathered pebble, or something of the sort, that rolled under his boot-sole, causing him to lose his balance. He staggered back, arms waving wildly in the air. Impulsively, I put out one hand to catch him, but my movement came too late.
The next instant he plunged backward from the edge of the rock, striking the swirling depths below with a splash that sent water cascading down my face and shirt front.
I gave a startled yell and could only stare dumbly for a moment at the spot where Jordan had disappeared. I hadn't heard a sound from him since he hit the water. Peering over the edge I saw his head come up once and then disappear again as his arms flailed helplessly against the tossing waters.
The first thought that occurred to me was that here was my chance for escape. Abruptly I started to hate myself for the thought, and then it was borne in on me that Jordan hadn't acted, in the brief moment I saw him, like a man accustomed to water. The sudden truth hit me like a ton of rock:
Moving frantically, I whipped off my boots, then dived in. The current whirled me dizzily around for a moment before I came up, head above water. Now I was thankful for such light as the moon gave, throwing as well into some relief the shadows along the rocky banks. Whipping water out of my eyes, I tried to raise my head above water. There was no sight of Jordan and I wondered if he'd gone down for good.
Then farther on in a shadow, I thought I saw him trying to hold to a projecting rock at one side. The place was in shadow, and I couldn't be certain, but I struck out in that direction anyway, the current carrying me along swifter than I could have managed to swim in those chilling depths. God, it was cold, like something that had just come from an Arctic iceberg, almost paralyzing to the arms and leg muscles.
I had almost reached the spot for which I was headed when I managed to make out his struggling figure, hands scrabbling at slippery rock. Then he lost the battle and went under again, carried farther away from me. So far I'd not heard one word from him. Undoubtedly he was already half unconscious.
I stroked as strongly as possible toward the spot where he had last disappeared, then veered more to the right. Not a sign of him, now, and I wondered if he was already drowned. Taking a deep breath, I plunged below the surface, unable to see anything now, but feeling wildly about on the chance that I might locate his body.
An undercurrent dragged me down and down, then just as I thought I must be close to the bottom, one hand touched something that felt like clothing. Already I was being whipped to the surface again, and I made a frantic grab for Jordan, if it was Jordan I had felt. My hand touched human hair, and I tightened my grip, hauling him to the surface, fighting to swim with one hand, while the other towed Jordan, by the head, at my side.
Then a bit of luck overtook us. A swirl of the current carried us near the bank and an instant later I felt the rocky and sandy bottom under foot. A few moments later I had dropped, exhausted, on a small stretch of sand, Jordan prone beside me.
For a moment I couldn't move, or speak, then I got my breath back and rolled over to look at him. He lay on his side as I had dropped him, legs slightly curled. In the light from the moon I could see blood flowing from a nasty cut on his forehead, where he had probably struck a rock someplace. A sort of choked gurgling came from his throat, though his eyes were closed. His features were ashy, except where blood mingled with the water dripping from his head.
I didn't like his looks one bit, and that snapped me into action. Though I'd learned to swim when I was a youngster, no one had ever taught me what to do in a case of this sort. A few things I'd heard of life-saving filtered into my mind. Hell! I had to try something.
I straightened his legs, turned him face down, seized him by the middle and lifted, with a sort of joggling movement. I heard water dripping but couldn't tell if I was doing any good. Then I straightened him out again, rested his head sidewise on one bent arm. Knelt with a knee on either side of his body and pressed down on his back in the lung region, with easy rhythmic movements. Finally I heard a sort of gasp, a quick sudden intake of breath, and then another. I kept working on him, I don't know how long, until he seemed to be breathing better, though still unconscious. I still didn't like the feel of his skin; it was too cold to suit me. I'd have to get him back to the camp.
I still don't know how I made it, half-carrying and half-dragging Jordan back, with big rocks impeding the way, while the canyon walls towered high overhead. At the camp, I threw some loose blankets on the fire, then got Jordan's blankets. I stripped every bit of clothing from his body, rubbed him down with my saddle blanket, and then
