The Sheriff's Son
out of this. What he had been afraid of was immediate battle. One cannot talk bullets aside.
Slowly he pushed his revolver into its holster, but the hand of the man rested still on the butt.
"I came back to help Miss Rutherford out of this prospect hole," he whimperingly complained. "When onc't I got sober, I done recalled that she was here. So I hit the trail back."
Meldrum spoke the exact truth. When the liquor was out of him, he became frightened at what he had done. He had visions of New Mexico hunting him down like a wild dog. At last, unable to stand it any longer, he had come back to free her.
"That's good. Saves me the trouble of looking for you. I'm going to give you a choice. You and I can settle this thing with guns right here and now. That's one way out for you. I 'll kill you where you stand."
"W—what's the other way?" stammered the outlaw.
"The other way is for you to jump into that prospect hole. I 'll ride away and leave you there to starve."
"Goddlemighty! You would n't do that,"
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