“And next month or next year another navy convoy will be robbed, and everyone will know that Santiago is still alive,” replied Cain calmly.

The Swagman stared at Cain. “This isn’t over yet,” he promised.

“I know,” said Cain. “For one thing, you’re going to be protecting me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s still a price on my head, and you know I live on Safe Harbor. If any bounty hunter makes it this far, I’m going to assume that you told him where to find me.” He smiled grimly. “I would take a very dim view of that.”

“How can I keep tabs on every bounty hunter who’s looking for Santiago?” demanded the Swagman in exasperation.

“You’re a clever man,” said Cain. “You’ll find a way.”

The Swagman seemed about to protest, then sighed and turned to Virtue.

“You’re really going along with this deception?” he asked.

“What deception?” she replied innocently.

“Wonderful,” he muttered. “You know,” he added thoughtfully, “it occurs to me that you’ve run through most of your advance already. You’re not going to do much more than break even.”

“Have you any suggestions?”

He smiled with renewed self-confidence. “Hundreds of them, especially for a famous art critic like yourself.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said, unable to completely hide her interest.

“I’ll be at the boarding house for a few more days. That is,” he added sardonically, “if it’s all right with Santiago?”

“Two days,” said Cain.

“Then, if there are no further objections, I think I’ll take my leave of you,” he said, walking to the door. “I crave the company of honest men and women.”

“I doubt that the feeling is mutual,” said Cain.

The Swagman chuckled and left the tavern.

“I was afraid that you were going to kill him,” remarked Virtue.

“Cain might have. Santiago will find a use for him.”

“But all he has to do is tell the navy where to find you.”

“But he won’t,” said Cain confidently as he walked to the door. “If the navy kills me, the Democracy will appropriate all my belongings, including the artwork.”

It took Cain another five minutes to load Santiago’s body into his vehicle. Then he and Virtue drove the fifty miles out to the farm.

Jacinto was waiting for him, and while Virtue remained at the house, the two men gently carried Santiago down to the dell, where a third grave had been dug that morning.

“He loved this place,” said Jacinto after they had filled in the grave. He looked around. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

Cain nodded.

Jacinto stared down thoughtfully at the unmarked grave. “He was the best of them all.”

“Was he a bounty hunter, too?” asked Cain.

Jacinto shook his head. “He came here as a colonist almost twenty years ago, and built the Barleycorn Tavern.”

“What about the one before him?”