What more likely than that Hardman had been this accomplice?
Hawkes said he was a big long-haired fellow. So was the man that
had held up the engineer of the Limited. He was--"J. H. begins
hear." Like a flash the ill-written scrawl jumped to his sight.
"J. H." was Jay Hardman. What luck!
The doctor finished his work, and Collins tested his leg
gingerly. "Del, I'm going over to have a little talk with the old
man. Want to go along?"
"You bet I do, Val"--from Del Hawkes.
"You mustn't walk on that leg for a week or two yet, Mr.
Collins," the doctor explained, shaking his head.
"That so, doctor? And it nothing but a nice clean flesh-wound!
Sho! I've a deal more confidence in you than that. Ready, Del?"
"It's at your risk then, Mr. Collins."
"Sure." The sheriff smiled. "I'm living at my own risk, doctor.
But I'd a heap rather be alive than daid, and take all the risk
that's coming, too. But since you make a point of it, I'll do
most of my walking on a bronco's back."
They found Mr. Hardman just emerging from the stable with a
saddle-pony when they rode into the corral. At a word from
Collins, Hawkes took the precaution to close the corral gate.
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