You see, if one of them made a mistake
and confided in the wrong man--well, some fine day he would go
riding herd and would not turn up at night. Next week, or next
month, maybe, one of his partners might find a pile of bones in
an arroyo.
"Have you ever seen this Bannister?"
"You MUST speak lower when you talk of him, Miss Messiter," the
woman insisted. "Yes, I saw him once; at least I think I did.
Mighty few folks know for sure that they have seen him. He is a
mystery, and he travels under many names and disguises."
"When was it you think you saw him?"
"Two years ago at Ayr. The bank was looted that night and robbed
of thirty thousand dollars. They roused the cashier from his bed
and made him give the combination. He didn't want to, and Ned
Bannister"--her voice sank to a tremulous whisper--"put red-hot
running-irons between his fingers till he weakened. It was a
moonlight night--much such a night as this--and after it was done
I peeped through the blind of my room and saw them ride away. He
rode in front of them and sang like an angel--did it out of
daredeviltry to mock the people of the town that hadn't nerve
enough to shoot him. You see, he knew that nobody would dare hurt
him 'count of the revenge of his men.
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