"You, Zang; you can't come, I know. It would be walking straight into jail. But—but, Zang, I 'll come back to you. I—I have n't much to give you, Zang, but I 'll try to—play fair."
He left her abruptly and disappeared in the darkness. When he returned he was leading the saddleless horse, Uncle Alf's runaway. A few minutes' work with a rawhide thread served to repair the broken girth, and Zang had the saddle in place shortly. The evangelist, willing enough to see his prisoner behind bars at the earliest moment, helped Zang lift the Killer back to his own saddle. His legs were bound beneath the horse's belly. Zang mounted his own beast and slipped the bridle of the prisoner's horse over his arm. He led the way back to that point on the trail whence he and Hilma had first seen Uncle Alf's fire. Hilma pressed up to him when the trail showed a dim line under the horses' hoofs and put out her hand to take the leading bridle.
"Good-by, Zang. Remember, I 'll come back."
"Save your good-by for another time," Zang laughed exultantly. "I 'm riding with you to Two Moons."
