Murray Leinster

“ The prisoner smiled whimsically in the darkness.
"You've no idea, Jerry, what a temptation it was to plug you when you first showed up. You made a beautiful target, but I tried for your horse and wanted to be sure of missing you, so I fired too low."
The sheriff's voice was strained.
"But are you—are you the—the Andrews that killed that Mex?"
"I'm afraid I am, Jerry." The tone was not mocking, nor even light. It was curiously sympathetic. "There are times when I regret being a black sheep. It must be pretty tough to go out after a murderer and find him your own brother." ”

“ His voice broke. "Blast you, Jerry——"
The sheriff started up, and his late prisoner swung quickly and powerfully for his jaw. The sheriff was flung back and down and lay still on the earth. And then Dick threw himself upon him.
A trickle of water down his throat and a hand working expertly at the third vertebra—which will bring a man out of any unconsciousness that is not coma—were his first sensations, as the sheriff came slowly back to the world. His brother's face was above him, and there were tears in the older man's eyes. ”

“ All raw red earth and barren rocks, there was no trace of vegetation save down at the very bottom, where a stream might run if it rained, which was improbable. The naked rocks were just beginning to cool a little from their midday heat, and on the farther side the shadows began to take on those strangely beautiful purple tints that come in high, thin air at nightfall. ”

“ Even in the least tamed of communities, a man hunt is not so common as to be altogether devoid of thrill. The man below had killed a Mexican deliberately. Therefore the sheriff was after him, and therefore he picketed his horse and wriggled carefully away from his first hiding place.
The location of the fugitive had been fairly well indicated by his shots. Modern firearms no longer emit a cloud of dense white smoke on being fired. A faint blue cloud that instantly dissipates is the most one can expect, but even that will show up to a watchful eye. ”

“ The sheriff struggled to move and could not. His brother erect, smiling queerly.
"Old fellow, I'm the most worthless human being in the universe, but I couldn't go away and let you believe that yarn, even for an instant. I haven't been home, Jerry, and I followed Cordoba from Chihuahua. He hasn't been there, either. Dolores is all right—she must be all right."
There was a moment in which the sheriff drank in the assurance, and then he struggled with his bonds. Dick watched him. He relaxed. ”

“ The sheriff was speaking through stiff lips. "I don't know what defense you've got, but they told me a man named Andrews had ridden into Potosi, looking for a Mex named Pedro Cordoba. He found the Mex in a cantina, and the Mex and Andrews clinched. Andrews went for the Mex with bare hands, roaring that he was going to kill him. The Mex drew a knife, and Andrews got it away from him and killed him—with his hands."
Dick nodded soberly. "That's right, Jerry. Just what I did. But will they hang me for that?"
"I'm afraid they will, Dick. You were looking for him. He was trying to defend himself." ”

“ A BULLET plunked neatly between the horse's legs and spattered into a shapeless mass of lead against a boulder, from whence it went whining off into nowhere. That was one second. The next, the very young sheriff was off his mount and was jerking it behind an outcrop of rock. ”

“ In case they don't, I've fixed that rope so you can wriggle free in a couple of hours. And there's a canteen. It's only twelve miles to a ranch where you can get a horse. 'By, Jerry,"
The sheriff managed to grin faintly.
"Good-by, Dick. And—and——" A sudden wave of comprehension came over him. His brother felt now, just as he had felt when he had believed the tale that was told him. His tone was sincerely sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Dick. Good luck!"
The thudding of the horse's hoofs died away in the distance, and then a long time later the sheriff began to work on the ropes that bound him. ”