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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -</style> -<title>THE COMING OF CASSIDY--AND THE OTHERS</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Coming of Cassidy—And the Others" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Clarence E. Mulford" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1913" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="Maynard Dixon" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="42441" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-03-30" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Coming of Cassidy—And the Others" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Coming of Cassidy—And the Others" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="cassidy.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-03-30T23:11:39.147071+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42441" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Clarence E. Mulford" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="Maynard Dixon" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="2013-03-30" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -<style type="text/css"> -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-coming-of-cassidy-and-the-others"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE COMING OF CASSIDY--AND THE OTHERS</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Coming of Cassidy—And the Others -<br /> -<br />Author: Clarence E. Mulford -<br /> -<br />Release Date: March 30, 2013 [EBook #42441] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE COMING OF CASSIDY—AND THE OTHERS</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 63%" id="figure-55"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 80%" id="figure-56"> -<span id="suddenly-a-rope-yanked-him-from-the-saddle"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Suddenly a rope ... yanked him from the saddle Page 342" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Suddenly a rope ... yanked him from the saddle Page </span><a class="italics reference internal" href="#id1">342</a></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">The -<br />Coming of Cassidy— -<br />And the Others</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">BY -<br />CLARENCE E. MULFORD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Author of -<br />Hopalong Cassidy, Bar-20 Days, etc.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Illustrations by -<br />Maynard Dixon</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">CHICAGO -<br />A. C. McCLURG & CO. -<br />1913</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Copyright 1908 by The Red Book Corporation -<br />Copyright 1911 by Field and Stream Publishing Co. -<br />Copyright 1912 by The Pearson Publishing Co. -<br />Copyright 1913 by The Pearson Publishing Co.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">COPYRIGHT -<br />A. C. McCLURG & CO. -<br />1913</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Published, October, 1913</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Copyrighted in Great Britain</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">PRESS OF -<br />THE VAIL-BALLOU Co. -<br />BINGHAMTON, N. Y.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">PREFACE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was on one of my annual visits to the ranch -that Red, whose welcome always seemed a little -warmer than that of the others, finally took me -back to the beginning. My friendship with the -outfit did not begin until some years after the -fight at Buckskin, and, while I was familiar with -that affair and with the history of the outfit from -that time on, I had never seemed to make much -headway back of that encounter. And I must -confess that if I had depended upon the rest of -the outfit for enlightenment I should have -learned very little of its earlier exploits. A -more secretive and bashful crowd, when it came -to their own achievements, would be hard to find. -But Red, the big, smiling, under-foreman, at -last completely thawed and during the last few -weeks of my stay, told me story after story about -the earlier days of the ranch and the parts played -by each member of the outfit. Names that I had -heard mentioned casually now meant something -to me; the characters stepped out of the obscurity -of the past to act their parts again. To my -mind's eye came Jimmy Price, even more -mischievous than Johnny Nelson; "Butch" Lynch -and Charley James, who erred in judgment; the -coming and going of Sammy Porter, and why -"You-Bet" Somes never arrived; and others who -did their best, or worst, and went their way. -The tales will follow, as closely as possible, in -chronological order. Between some of them the -interval is short; between others, long; the less -interesting stories that should fill those gaps may -well be omitted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was in the '70s, when the buffalo were fast -disappearing from the state, and the hunters -were beginning to turn to other ways of earning -a living, that Buck Peters stopped his wagon on -the banks of Snake Creek and built himself a -sod dugout in the heart of a country forbidding -and full of perils. It was said that he was only -the agent for an eastern syndicate that, carried -away by the prospects of the cattle industry, -bought a "ranch," which later was found to be -entirely strange to cattle. As a matter of fact -there were no cows within three hundred miles -of it, and there never had been. Somehow the -syndicate got in touch with Buck and sent him -out to look things over and make a report to -them. This he did, and in his report he stated -that the "ranch" was split in two parts by about -forty square miles of public land, which he -recommended that he be allowed to buy according -to his judgment. When everything was settled -the syndicate found that they owned the west, -and best, bank of an unfailing river and both -banks of an unfailing creek for a distance of -about thirty miles. The strip was not very wide -then, but it did not need to be, for it cut off the -back-lying range from water and rendered it -useless to anyone but his employers. Westward -there was no water to amount to anything for -one hundred miles. When this had been -digested thoroughly by the syndicate it caused -Buck's next pay check to be twice the size of -the first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He managed to live through the winter, and -the following spring a herd of about two -thousand or more poor cattle was delivered to him, -and he noticed at once that fully half of them -were unbranded; but mavericks were cows, and in -those days it was not questionable to brand them. -Persuading two members of the drive outfit to -work for him he settled down to face the work -and perils of ranching in a wild country. One -of these two men, George Travis, did not work -long; the other was the man who told me these -tales. Red went back with the drive outfit, but -in Buck's wagon, to return in four weeks with it -heaped full of necessities, and to find that -troubles already had begun. Buck's trust was not -misplaced. It was during Red's absence that -Bill Cassidy, later to be known by a more -descriptive name, appeared upon the scene and -played his cards.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>C. E. M.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>I </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-coming-of-cassidy">The Coming of Cassidy</a><span> -<br />II </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-weasel">The Weasel</a><span> -<br />III </span><a class="reference internal" href="#jimmy-price">Jimmy Price</a><span> -<br />IV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#jimmy-visits-sharpsville">Jimmy Visits Sharpsville</a><span> -<br />V </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-luck-of-fools">The Luck of Fools</a><span> -<br />VI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#hopalong-s-hop">Hopalong's Hop</a><span> -<br />VII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#dealing-the-odd">"Dealing the Odd"</a><span> -<br />VIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-norther">The Norther</a><span> -<br />IX </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-drive">The Drive</a><span> -<br />X </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-hold-up">The Hold-Up</a><span> -<br />XI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#sammy-finds-a-friend">Sammy Finds a Friend</a><span> -<br />XII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#sammy-knows-the-game">Sammy Knows the Game</a><span> -<br />XIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#his-code">His Code</a><span> -<br />XIV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#sammy-hunts-a-job">Sammy Hunts a Job</a><span> -<br />XV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#when-johnny-sloped">When Johnny Sloped</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">ILLUSTRATIONS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#suddenly-a-rope-yanked-him-from-the-saddle">Suddenly a rope ... yanked him from the saddle</a><span> . . . Frontispiece</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#there-was-a-sharp-report">There was a sharp report</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#it-s-injuns-close-after-us">"It's Injuns, close after us"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#crawford-s-colt-tore-loose-from-his-fingers-and-dropped-near-the-wheel-of-the-wagon">Crawford's Colt tore loose from his fingers and dropped near the wheel of the wagon</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#yo-re-a-liar-rang-out-the-vibrant-voice-of-the-cowman">"Yo're a liar!" rang out the vibrant voice of the cowman</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-coming-of-cassidy"><span class="x-large">THE COMING OF CASSIDY -<br />AND THE OTHERS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">THE COMING OF CASSIDY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The trail boss shook his fist after the -departing puncher and swore softly. He hated -to lose a man at this time and he had been a little -reckless in threatening to "fire" him; but in a -gun-fighting outfit there was no room for a -hothead. "Cimarron" was boss of the outfit that -was driving a large herd of cattle to California, -a feat that had been accomplished before, but -that no man cared to attempt the second time. -Had his soul been enriched by the gift of -prophecy he would have turned back. As it was he -returned to the work ahead of him. "Aw, let -him go," he growled. "He 's wuss off 'n I am, -an' he 'll find it out quick. I never did see -nobody what got crazy mad so quick as him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bill" Cassidy, not yet of age, but a man in -stature and strength, rode north because it -promised him civilization quicker than any other way -except the back trail, and he was tired of the -coast range. He had forgotten the trail-boss -during the last three days of his solitary -journeying and the fact that he was in the center of an -uninhabited country nearly as large as a -good-sized state gave him no concern; he was equipped -for two weeks, and fortified by youth's confidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All day long he rode, around mesas and -through draws, detouring to avoid canyons and -bearing steadily northward with a certainty that -was a heritage. Gradually the great bulk of -mesas swung off to the west, and to the east the -range grew steadily more level as it swept -toward the peaceful river lying in the distant -valley like a carelessly flung rope of silver. The -forest vegetation, so luxuriant along the rivers -and draws a day or two before, was now rarely -seen, while chaparrals and stunted mesquite -became more common.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was more than twenty-five hundred feet -above the ocean, on a great plateau broken by -mesas that stretched away for miles in a vast sea -of grass. There was just enough tang in the -dry April air to make riding a pleasure and he -did not mind the dryness of the season. Twice -that day he detoured to ride around prairie-dog -towns and the sight of buffalo skeletons lying in -groups was not rare. Alert and contemptuous -gray wolves gave him a passing glance, but the -coyotes, slinking a little farther off, watched him -with more interest. Occasionally he had a shot -at antelope and once was successful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Warned by the gathering dusk he was casting -about for the most favorable spot for his -blanket and fire when a horseman swung into sight -out of a draw and reined in quickly. Bill's hand -fell carelessly to his side while he regarded the -stranger, who spoke first, and with a restrained -welcoming gladness in his voice. "Howd'y, -Stranger! You plumb surprised me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill's examination told him that the other was -stocky, compactly built, with a pleasing face and -a "good eye." His age was about thirty and the -surface indications were very favorable. "Some -surprised myself," he replied. "Ridin' my way?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Far's th' house," smiled the other. "Better -join us. Couple of buffalo hunters dropped in -awhile back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They 'll go a long way before they 'll find -buffalo," Bill responded, suspiciously. Glancing -around he readily picked out the rectangular -blot in the valley, though it was no easy feat. -"Huntin' or ranchin'?" he inquired in tones -devoid of curiosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ranchin'," smiled the other. "Hefty proposition, -up here, I reckon. Th' wolves 'll walk in -under yore nose. But I ain't seen no Injuns."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will," was the calm reply. "You 'll see -a couple, first; an' then th' whole cussed tribe. -</span><em class="italics">They</em><span> ain't got no buffalo no more, neither."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck glanced at him sharply and thought of -the hunters, but he nodded. "Yes. But if that -couple don't go back?" he asked, referring to the Indians.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you 'll save a little time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, let 'em come. I 'm here to stay, one -way or th' other. But, anyhow, I ain't got no -border ruffians like they have over in th' -Panhandle. They 're worse 'n Injuns."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," agreed Bill. "Th' war ain't ended yet -for some of them fellers. Ex-guerrillas, lots of 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they reached the house the buffalo -hunters were arguing about their next day's ride -and the elder, looking up, appealed to Bill. -"Howd'y, Stranger. Ain't come 'cross no -buffaler signs, hev ye?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill smiled. "Bones an' old chips. But th' -gray wolves was headin' southwest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What 'd I tell you?" triumphantly exclaimed -the younger hunter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, they ain't much dif'rence, is they?" -growled his companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill missed nothing the hunters said or did and -during the silent meal had a good chance to study -their faces. When the pipes were going and -the supper wreck cleaned away, Buck leaned -against the wall and looked across the room at -the latest arrival. "Don't want a job, do you?" -he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill shook his head slowly, wondering why the -hunters had frowned at a job being offered on -another man's ranch. "I 'm headed north. But -I 'll give you a hand for a week if you need me," -he offered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck smiled. "Much obliged, friend; but -it 'll leave me worse off than before. My other -puncher 'll be back in a few weeks with th' -supplies, but I need four men all year 'round. I -got a thousand head to brand yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The elder hunter looked up. "Drive 'em back -to cow-country an' sell 'em, or locate there," he -suggested.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck's glance was as sharp as his reply, for he -could n't believe that the hunter had so soon -forgotten what he had been told regarding the -ownership of the cattle. "I don't own 'em. This -range is bought an' paid for. I won't lay down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I done forgot they ain't yourn," hastily -replied the hunter, smiling to himself. Stolen -cattle cannot go back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If they was I 'd stay," crisply retorted Buck. -"I ain't quittin' nothin' I starts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How many 'll you have nex' spring?" -grinned the younger hunter. He was surprised -by the sharpness of the response. "More 'n I 've -got now, in spite of h—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill nodded approval. He felt a sudden, -warm liking for this rugged man who would not -quit in the face of such handicaps. He liked -game men, better if they were square, and he -believed this foreman was as square as he was -game. "By th' Lord!" he ejaculated. "For a -plugged peso I 'd stay with you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck smiled warmly. "Would good money -do? But don't you stay if you oughtn't, son."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the light was out Bill lay awake for a -long time, his mind busy with his evening's -observations, and they pleased him so little that -he did not close his eyes until assured by the -breathing of the hunters that they were asleep. -His Colt, which should have been hanging in its -holster on the wall where he had left it, lay -unsheathed close to his thigh and he awakened -frequently during the night so keyed was he for -the slightest sound. Up first in the morning, he -replaced the gun in its scabbard before the others -opened their eyes, and it was not until the -hunters had ridden out of sight into the southwest -that he entirely relaxed his vigilance. Saying -good-by to the two cowmen was not without -regrets, but he shook hands heartily with them and -swung decisively northward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had been riding perhaps two hours, -thinking about the little ranch and the hunters, when -he stopped suddenly on the very brink of a sheer -drop of two hundred feet. In his abstraction -he had ridden up the sloping southern face of -the mesa without noticing it. "Bet there ain't -another like this for a hundred miles," he -laughed, and then ceased abruptly and started -with unbelieving eyes at the mouth of a draw not -far away. A trotting line of gray wolves was -emerging from it and swinging toward the -south-west ten abreast. He had never heard of such -a thing before and watched them in amazement. -"Well, I'm—!" he exclaimed, and his Colt -flashed rapidly at the pack. Two or three -dropped, but the trotting line only swerved a -little without pause or a change of pace and soon -was lost in another draw. "Why, they 're -single hunters," he muttered. "Huh! I won't -never tell this. I can't hardly believe it myself. -How 'bout you, Ring-Bone?" he asked the horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Turning, he rode around a rugged pinnacle -of rock and stopped again, gazing steadily -along the back trail. Far away in a valley two -black dots were crawling over a patch of sand -and he knew them to be horsemen. His face -slowly reddened with anger at the espionage, -for he had not thought the cowmen could doubt -his good will and honesty. Then suddenly he -swore and spurred forward to cover those miles -as speedily as possible. "Come on, ol' -Hammer-Head!" he cried. "We're goin' back!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hunters had finally decided they would -ride into the southwest and had ridden off in that -direction. But they had detoured and swung -north to see him pass and be sure he was not in -their way. Now, satisfied upon that point, they -were going back to that herd of cattle, easily -turned from skinning buffalo to cattle, and on -a large scale. To do this they would have to -kill two men and then, waiting for the absent -puncher to return with the wagon, kill him and -load down the vehicle with skins. "Like h—l -they will!" he gritted. "Three or none, you -piruts. Come on, White-Eye! Don't sleep all -th' time; an' don't light often'r once every ten -yards, you saddle-galled, barrel-bellied runt!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Into hollows, out again; shooting down -steep-banked draws and avoiding cacti and chaparral -with cat-like agility, the much-described little -pony butted the wind in front and left a -low-lying cloud of dust swirling behind as it whirred -at top speed with choppy, tied-in stride in a -winding circle for the humble sod hut on Snake -Creek. The rider growled at the evident speed -of the two men ahead, for he had not gained -upon them despite his efforts. "If I 'm too late -to stop it, I 'll clean th' slate, anyhow," he -snapped. "Even if I has to ambush! Will you -run?" he demanded, and the wild-eyed little -bundle of whalebone and steel found a little more -speed in its flashing legs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rider now began to accept what cover he -could find and when he neared the hut left the -shelter of the last, low hill for that afforded by -a draw leading to within a hundred yards of -the dugout's rear wall. Dismounting, he ran -lightly forward on foot, alert and with every -sense strained for a warning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reaching the wall he peered around the -corner and stifled an exclamation. Buck's puncher, -a knife in his back, lay head down the sloping -path. Placing his ear to the wall he listened -intently for some moments and then suddenly -caught sight of a shadow slowly creeping past -his toes. Quickly as he sprang aside he barely -missed the flashing knife and the bulk of the man -behind it, whose hand, outflung to save his -balance, accidentally knocked the Colt from Bill's -grasp and sent it spinning twenty feet away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without a word they leaped together, fighting -silently, both trying to gain the gun in the -hunter's holster and trying to keep the other -from it. Bill, forcing the fighting in hopes that -his youth would stand a hot pace better than the -other's years, pushed his enemy back against the -low roof of the dugout; but as the hunter -tripped over it and fell backward, he pulled Bill -with him. Fighting desperately they rolled -across the roof and dropped to the sloping earth -at the doorway, so tightly locked in each other's -arms that the jar did not separate them. The -hunter, falling underneath, got the worst of the -fall but kept on fighting. Crashing into -the door head first, they sent it swinging back -against the wall and followed it, bumping down -the two steps still locked together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill possessed strength remarkable for his -years and build and he was hard as iron; but he -had met a man who had the sinewy strength of -the plainsman, whose greater age was offset by -greater weight and the youth was constantly so -close to defeat that a single false move would -have been fatal. But luck favored him, for as -they surged around the room they crashed into -the heavy table and fell with it on top of them. -The hunter got its full weight and the gash in -his forehead filled his eyes with blood. By a -desperate effort he pinned Bill's arm under his -knee and with his left hand secured a throat grip, -but the under man wriggled furiously and -bridged so suddenly as to throw the hunter off -him and Bill's freed hand, crashing full into the -other's stomach, flashed back to release the -weakened throat grip and jam the tensed fingers -between his teeth, holding them there with all the -power of his jaws. The dazed and gasping -hunter, bending forward instinctively, felt his -own throat seized and was dragged underneath -his furious opponent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In his Berserker rage Bill had forgotten -about the gun, his fury sweeping everything -from him but the primal desire to kill with his -hands, to rend and crush like an animal. He -was brought to his senses very sharply by the -jarring, crashing roar of the six-shooter, the -powder blowing away part of his shirt and -burning his side. Twisting sideways he grasped the -weapon with one hand, the wrist with the other -and bent the gun slowly back, forcing its -muzzle farther and farther from him. The hunter, -at last managing to free his left hand from the -other's teeth, found it useless when he tried to -release the younger man's grip of the gun; and -the Colt, roaring again, dropped from its -owner's hand as he relaxed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The victor leaned against the wall, his breath -coming in great, sobbing gulps, his knees -sagging and his head near bursting. He reeled -across the wrecked room, gulped down a drink -of whisky from the bottle on the shelf and, -stumbling, groped his way to the outer air where -he flung himself down on the ground, dazed and -dizzy. When he opened his eyes the air seemed -to be filled with flashes of fire and huge, black -fantastic blots that changed form with great -swiftness and the hut danced and shifted like a -thing of life. Hot bands seemed to encircle his -throat and the throbbing in his temples was like -blows of a hammer. While he writhed and -fought for breath a faint gunshot reached his -ears and found him apathetic. But the second, -following closely upon the first, seemed clearer -and brought him to himself long enough to make -him arise and stumble to his horse, and claw his -way into the saddle. The animal, maddened by -the steady thrust of the spurs, pitched viciously -and bolted; but the rider had learned his art in -the sternest school in the world, the "busting" -corrals of the great Southwest, and he not only -stuck to the saddle, but guided the fighting -animal through a barranca almost choked with obstructions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stretched full length in a crevice near the top -of a mesa lay the other hunter, his rifle trained -on a small bowlder several hundred yards down -and across the draw. His first shot had been an -inexcusable blunder for a marksman like himself -and now he had a desperate man and a very -capable shot opposing him. If Buck could hold -out until nightfall he could slip away in the -darkness and do some stalking on his own account.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For half an hour they had lain thus, neither -daring to take sight. Buck could not leave the -shelter of the bowlder because the high ground -behind him offered no cover; but the hunter, -tiring of the fruitless wait, wriggled back into the -crevice, arose and slipped away, intending to -crawl to the edge of the mesa further down and -get in a shot from a new angle before his enemy -learned of the shift; and this shot would not be -a blunder. He had just lowered himself down -a steep wall when the noise of rolling pebbles -caused him to look around, expecting to see his -friend. Bill was just turning the corner of the -wall and their eyes met at the same instant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Nds up!" snapped the youth, his Colt -glinting as it swung up. The hunter, gripping -the rifle firmly, looked into the angry eyes of -the other, and slowly obeyed. Bill, watching the -rifle intently, forthwith learned a lesson he never -forgot: never to watch a gun, but the eyes of -the man who has it. The left hand of the -hunter seemed to melt into smoke, and Bill, -firing at the same instant, blundered into a hit -when his surprise and carelessness should have -cost him dearly. His bullet, missing its -intended mark by inches, struck the still moving -Colt of the other, knocking it into the air and -numbing the hand that held it. A searing pain -in his shoulder told him of the closeness of the -call and set his lips into a thin, white line. The -hunter, needing no words to interpret the look -in the youth's eyes, swiftly raised his hands, -holding the rifle high above his head, but -neglected to take his finger from the trigger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill was not overlooking anything now and he -noticed the crooked finger. "Stick th' muzzle -</span><em class="italics">up</em><span>, an' pull that trigger," he commanded, -sharply. "Now!" he grated. The report came -crashing back from half a dozen points as he -nodded. "Drop it, an' turn 'round." As the -other obeyed he stepped cautiously forward, -jammed his Colt into the hunter's back and took -possession of a skinning knife. A few moments -later the hunter, trussed securely by a forty-foot -lariat, lay cursing at the foot of the rock wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill, collecting the weapons, went off to cache -them and then peered over the mesa's edge to -look into the draw. A leaden splotch appeared -on the rock almost under his nose and launched -a crescendo scream into the sky to whine into -silence. He ducked and leaped back, grinning -foolishly as he realized Buck's error. Turning -to approach the edge from another point he felt -his sombrero jerk at his head as another bullet, -screaming plaintively, followed the first. He -dropped like a shot, and commented caustically -upon his paucity of brains as he gravely -examined the hole in his head gear. "Huh!" he -grunted. "I had a fool's luck three times in -twenty minutes,—d—d if I 'm goin' to risk th' -next turn. </span><em class="italics">Three</em><span> of 'em," he repeated. "I 'm -a' Injun from now on. An' that foreman shore -can shoot!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wriggled to the edge and called out, careful -not to let any of his anatomy show above the -sky-line. "Hey, Buck! I ain't no buffalo -hunter! This is Cassidy, who you wanted to -punch for you. Savvy?" He listened, and -grinned at the eloquent silence. "You talk too -rapid," he laughed. Repeating his statements -he listened again, with the same success. "Now -I wonder is he stalkin' </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>? Hey, </span><em class="italics">Buck</em><span>!" he -shouted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stick yore hands up an' foller 'em with yore -face," said Buck's voice from below. Bill raised -his arms and slowly stood up. "Now what 'n -blazes do </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> want?" demanded the foreman, -belligerently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothin'. Just got them hunters, one of 'em -alive. I reckoned mebby you 'd sorta like to -know it." He paused, cogitating. "Reckon -we better turn him loose when we gets back to -th' hut," he suggested. "I'll keep his guns," he -added, grinning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The foreman stuck his head out in sight. -"Well, I'm d—d!" he exclaimed, and sank -weakly back against the bowlder. "Can you -give me a hand?" he muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The words did not carry to the youth on the -skyline, but he saw, understood, and, slipping -and bumping down the steep wall with more -speed than sense, dashed across the draw and up -the other side. He nodded sagely as he -examined the wound and bound it carefully with the -sleeve of his own shirt. "'T ain't much—loss of -blood, mostly. Yo 're better off than Travis."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Travis dead?" whispered Buck. "In th' -back! Pore feller, pore feller; didn't have no -show. Tell me about it." At the end of the -story he nodded. "Yo 're all right, Cassidy; -yo 're a white man. He 'd 'a' stood a good -chance of gettin' me, 'cept for you." A frown -clouded his face and he looked weakly about him -as if for an answer to the question that bothered -him. "Now what am I goin' to do up here with -all these cows?" he muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill rolled the wounded man a cigarette and -lit it for him, after which he fell to tossing -pebbles at a rock further down the hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I reckon it </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> be sorta tough," he replied, -slowly. "But I sorta reckoned me an' you, an' -that other feller, can make a big ranch out of -yore little one. Anyhow, I 'll bet we can have -a mighty big time tryin'. A mighty fine time. -What you think?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck smiled weakly and shoved out his hand -with a visible effort. "We can! Shake, Bill!" -he said, contentedly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-weasel"><span class="large">II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">THE WEASEL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The winter that followed the coming of -Bill Cassidy to the Bar-20 ranch was none -too mild to suit the little outfit in the cabin on -Snake Creek, but it was not severe enough to -cause complaint and they weathered it without -trouble to speak of. Down on the big ranges -lying closer to the Gulf the winter was so mild -as to seem but a brief interruption of summer. -It was on this warm, southern range that Skinny -Thompson, one bright day of early spring, loped -along the trail to Scoria, where he hoped to find -his friend, Lanky Smith, and where he determined -to put an end to certain rumors that had -filtered down to him on the range and filled his -days with anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was within sight of the little cow-town -when he met Frank Lewis, but recently returned -from a cattle drive. Exchanging gossip of a -harmless nature, Skinny mildly scored his -missing friend and complained about his flea-like -ability to get scarce. Lewis, laughing, told him -that Lanky had left town two days before bound -north. Skinny gravely explained that he always -had to look after his missing friend, who was -childish, irresponsible and helpless when alone. -Lewis laughed heartily as he pictured the absent -puncher, and he laughed harder as he pictured -the two together. Both lean as bean poles, -Skinny stood six feet four, while Lanky was -fortunate if he topped five feet by many inches. -Also they were inseparable, which made Lewis -ask a question. "But how does it come you ain't -with him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, we was punchin' down south an' has a -li'l run-in. When I rid in that night I found -he had flitted. What I want to know is what -business has he got, siftin' out like that an' -makin' me chase after him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dunno," replied Lewis, amused. "You 're -sort of gardjean to him, hey?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he gets sort of homesick if I ain't with -him, anyhow," replied Skinny, grinning broadly. -"An' who 's goin' to look after him when I ain't -around?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That puts me up a tree," replied Lewis. "I -shore can't guess. But you two should ought to -'a' been stuck together, like them other twins -was. But if he 'd do a thing like that I 'd think -you would n't waste no time on him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> too ornery an' downright cussed -for any human bein' to worry about very much, -or 'sociate with steady an' reg'lar. Why, lookit -him gettin' sore on me, an' for nothin'! But -I 'm so used to bein' abused I get sort of lost -when he ain't around."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," smiled Lewis, "he's went up north to -punch for Buck Peters on his li'l ranch on Snake -Creek. If you want to go after him, this is th' -way I told him to go," and he gave instructions -hopelessly inadequate to anyone not a plainsman. -Skinny nodded, irritated by what he -regarded as the other's painful and unnecessary -details and wheeled to ride on. He had started -for town when Lewis stopped him with a word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hey," he called. Skinny drew rein and looked -around.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better ride in cautious like," Lewis -remarked, casually. "Somebody was in town -when I left—he shore was thirsty. He ain't -drinkin' a drop, which has riled him considerable. -So-long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh!" grunted Skinny. "Much obliged. -That's one of th' reasons I 'm goin' to town," -and he started forward again, tight-lipped and -grim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rode slowly into Scoria, alert, watching -windows, doors and corners, and dismounted -before Quiggs' saloon, which was the really -"high-toned" thirst parlor in the town. He noticed -that the proprietor had put black shades to the -windows and door and then, glancing quickly -around, entered. He made straight for the -partition in the rear of the building, but the -proprietor's voice checked him. "You needn't -bother, Skinny—there ain't nobody in there; an' -I locked th' back door an hour ago." He -glanced around the room and added, with studied -carelessness: "You don't want to get any -reckless today." He mopped the bar slowly and -coughed apologetically. "Don't get careless."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't—it's me that's doin' th' hunting -today," Skinny replied, meaningly. "Him -a-hunting for me yesterday, when he shore -knowed I was n't in town, when he knowed he -could n't find me! I was getting good an' tired -of him, an' so when Walt rode over to see me -last night an' told me what th' coyote was doing -yesterday, an' what he was yelling around, I -just natchurly had to straddle leather an' come -in. I can't let him put that onto me. Nobody -can call me a card cheat an' a coward an' a few -other choice things like he did without seeing me, -an' seeing me quick. An' I shore hope he 's -sober. Are both of 'em in town, Larry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; only Dick. But he's making noise -enough for two. He shore raised th' devil yesterday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I 'm goin' North trailin' Lanky, but -before I leave I 'm shore goin' to sweeten things -around here. If I go away without getting him -he 'll say he scared me out, so I 'll have to do it -when I come back, anyhow. You see, it might -just as well be today. But th' next time I sit -in a game with fellers that can't drop fifty -dollars without saying they was cheated I 'll be a -blamed sight bigger fool than I am right now. -I should n't 'a' taken cards with 'em after what -has passed. Why didn't they say they was -cheated, then an' there, an' not wait till three -days after I left town? All that's bothering -me is Sam: if I get his brother when he ain't -around, an' then goes North, he 'll say I had to -jump th' town to get away from him. But I 'll -stop that by giving him his chance at me when I -get back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, why don't you wait a day an' get 'em -both before you go?" asked Quigg hopefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't: Lanky 's got two days' start on me -an' I want to catch him soon as I can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't get it through my head, nohow," -Quigg remarked. "Everybody knows you play -square. I reckon they're hard losers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Skinny laughed shortly: "Why, can't you -see it? Last year I beat Dick Bradley out with -a woman over in Ballard. Then his fool brother -tried to cut in an' beat me out. Cards? -H—l!" he snorted, walking towards the door. -"You an' everybody else knows—" he stopped -suddenly and jerked his gun loose as a shadow -fell across the doorsill. Then he laughed and -slapped the newcomer on the shoulder: "Hullo, -Ace, my boy! You had a narrow squeak then. -You want to make more noise when you turn -corners, unless somebody 's looking for you with a -gun. How are you, anyhow? An' how's yore -dad? I 've been going over to see him -regular, right along, but I 've been so busy I kept -putting it off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dad's better, Skinny; an' I'm feeling too -good to be true. What 'll you have?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reckon it's my treat; you wet last th' other -time. Ain't that right, Quigg? Shore, I -knowed it was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, here's luck," Ace smiled. -"Quigg, that's better stock; an' would you look -at th' style—real curtains!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quigg grinned. "Got to have 'em. I 'm on -th' sunny side of th' street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hear yo 're goin' North," Ace remarked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I am; but how 'd you know about it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, it ain't no secret, is it?" asked Ace in -surprise. "If it is, you must 'a' told a woman. -I heard of it from th' crowd—everybody seems -to know about it. Yo 're going up alone, too, -ain't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, no, it ain't no secret; an' I am going -alone," slowly replied Skinny. "Here, have another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right—this is on me. Here's more luck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is th' crowd?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Keeping under cover for a while to give you -plenty of elbow room," Ace replied. "He's -sober as a judge, Skinny, an' mad as a rattler. -Swears he 'll kill you on sight. An' his brother -ain't with him; if he does come in too soon I 'll -see he don't make it two to one. Good luck, an' -so-long," he said quickly, shaking hands and -walking towards the door. He put one hand out -first and waved it, slowly stepping to the street -and then walking rapidly out of sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Skinny looked after him and smiled. "Larry, -there 's a blamed fine youngster," he remarked, -reflectively. "Well, he ought to be—he had th' -best mother God ever put breath into." He -thought for a moment and then went slowly -towards the door. "I 've heard so much about -Bradley's gun-play that I 'm some curious. -Reckon I 'll see if it's all true—" and he -had leaped through the doorway, gun in hand. -There was no shot, no sign of his enemy. A -group of men lounged in the door of the "hash -house" farther down the street, all friends of his, -and he nodded to them. One of them turned -quickly and looked down the intersecting street, -saying something that made his companions turn -and look with him. The man who had been -standing quietly by the corner saloon had -disappeared. Skinny smiling knowingly, moved -closer to Quigg's shack so as to be better able to -see around the indicated corner, and half drew -the Colt which he had just replaced in the -holster. As he drew even with the corner of the -building he heard Quigg's warning shout and -dropped instantly, a bullet singing over him and -into a window of a near-by store. He rolled -around the corner, scrambled to his feet and -dashed around the rear of the saloon and the -corral behind it, crossed the street in four bounds -and began to work up behind the buildings on -his enemy's side of the street, cold with anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pot shooting, hey!" he gritted, savagely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Says I 'm a-scared to face him, an' then tries -</span><em class="italics">that</em><span>. </span><em class="italics">There</em><span>, d—n you!" His Colt exploded -and a piece of wood sprang from the corner -board of Wright's store. "Missed!" he swore. -"Anyhow, I 've notified you, you coyote."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sprang forward, turned the corner of the -store and followed it to the street. When he -came to the street end of the wall he leaped past -it, his Colt preceding him. Finding no one to -dispute with him he moved cautiously towards the -other corner and stopped. Giving a quick -glance around, he smiled suddenly, for the glass -in Quigg's half-open door, with the black curtain -behind it, made a fair mirror. He could see the -reflection of Wright's corral and Ace leaning -against it, ready to handle the brother if he -should appear as a belligerent; and he could see -along the other side of the store, where Dick -Bradley, crouched, was half-way to the street -and coming nearer at each slow step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Skinny, remembering the shot which he had -so narrowly escaped, resolved that he would n't -take chances with a man who would pot-shoot. -He wheeled, slipped back along his side of the -building, turned the rear corner and then, -spurting, sprang out beyond the other wall, crying: -"Here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bradley, startled, fired under his arm as he -leaped aside. Turning while in the air, his -half-raised Colt described a swift, short arc and -roared as he alighted. As the bullet sang past -his enemy's ear he staggered and fell,—and -Skinny's smoking gun chocked into its holster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, you coyote!" muttered the victor. -"Yore brother is next if he wants to take it up."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As night fell Skinny rode into a small grove -and prepared to camp there. Picketing his -horse, he removed the saddle and dropped it -where he would sleep, for a saddle makes a fair -pillow. He threw his blanket after it and then -started a quick, hot fire for his coffee-making. -While gathering fuel for it he came across a -large log and determined to use it for his night -fire, and for that purpose carried it back to camp -with him. It was not long before he had -reduced the provisions in his saddle-bags and -leaned back against a tree to enjoy a smoke. -Suddenly he knocked the ashes from his pipe and -grew thoughtful, finally slipping it into his -pocket and getting up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That coyote's brother will know I went North -an' all about it," he muttered. "He knows I 've -got to camp tonight an' he can foller a trail as -good as th' next man. An' he knows I shot his -brother. I reckon, mebby, he 'll be some surprised."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An hour later a blanket-covered figure lay with -its carefully covered feet to the fire, and its head, -sheltered from the night air by a sombrero, lay -on the saddle. A rifle barrel projected above -the saddle, the dim flickering light of the -green-wood fire and a stray beam or two from the moon -glinted from its rustless surface. The fire was -badly constructed, giving almost no light, while -the leaves overhead shut out most of the moonlight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thirty yards away, in another clearing, a -horse moved about at the end of a lariat and -contentedly cropped the rich grass, enjoying a good -night's rest. An hour passed, another, and a -third and fourth, and then the horse's ears flicked -forward as it turned its head to see what approached.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A crouched figure moved stealthily forward to -the edge of the clearing, paused to read the brand -on the animal's flank and then moved off towards -the fitful light of the smoking fire. Closer and -closer it drew until it made out the indistinct -blanketed figure on the ground. A glint from -the rifle barrel caused it to shrink back deeper -into the shadows and raise the weapon it carried. -For half a minute it stood thus and then, holding -back the trigger of the rifle so there would be -no warning clicks, drew the hammer to a full -cock and let the trigger fall into place, slowly -moving forward all the while. A passing breeze -fanned the fire for an instant and threw the -grotesque shadow of a stump across the quiet figure -in the clearing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The skulker raised his rifle and waited until he -had figured out the exact mark and then a burst -of fire and smoke leaped into the brush. He -bent low to look under the smoke cloud and saw -that the figure had not moved. Another flash -split the night and then, assured beyond a doubt, -he moved forward quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"First shot!" he exclaimed with satisfaction. -"I reckons you won't do no boastin' 'bout killin' -Dick, d—n you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he was about to drop to his knees to search -the body he started and sprang back, glancing -fearfully around as he drew his Colt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Han's up!" came the command from the edge -of the clearing as a man stepped into sight. "I -reckon—" Skinny leaped aside as the other's -gun roared out and fired from his hip; and Sam -Bradley plunged across the blanket-covered log -and leaves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There," Skinny soliloquized, moving -forward. "I knowed they was coyotes, </span><em class="italics">both</em><span> of -'em. Knowed it all th' time."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Two days north of Skinny on the bank of -Little Wind River a fire was burning itself out, -while four men lay on the sand or squatted on -their heels and watched it contentedly. "Yes, -I got plumb sick of that country," Lanky Smith -was saying, "an' when Buck sent for me to go -up an' help him out, I pulls up, an' here I am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never heard of th' Bar-20," replied a little, -wizened man, whose eyes were so bright they -seemed to be on fire. "Did n't know there was -any ranches in that country."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Buck 's got th' only one," responded Lanky, -packing his pipe. "He's located on Snake -Creek, an' he 's got four thousand head. Reckon -there ain't nobody within two hundred mile -of him. Lewis said he 's got a fine range an' all -th' water he can use; but three men can't handle -all them cows in </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> country, so I 'm goin' up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little man's eyes seldom left Lanky's face, -and he seemed to be studying the stranger very -closely. When Lanky had ridden upon their -noon-day camp the little man had not lost a -movement that the stranger made and the other -two, disappearing quietly, returned a little later -and nodded reassuringly to their leader.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wizened leader glanced at one of his -companions, but spoke to Lanky. "George, here, -said as how they finally got Butch Lynch. You -did n't hear nothin' about it, did you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They was a rumor down on Mesquite range -that Butch was got. I heard his gang was wiped -out. Well, it had to come sometime—he was -carryin' things with a purty high hand for a long -time. But I 've done heard that before; more 'n -once, too. I reckon Butch is a li'l too slick to get -hisself killed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ever see him?" asked George carelessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never; an' don't want to. If them fellers -can't clean their own range an' pertect their own -cows, I ain't got no call to edge in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He 's only a couple of inches taller 'n Jim," -observed the third man, glancing at his leader, -"an' about th' same build. But he 's h—l on -th' shoot. I saw him twice, but I was mindin' -my own business."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanky nodded at the leader. "That 'd make -him about as tall as me. Size don't make no -dif'rence no more—King Colt makes 'em look -all alike."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim tossed away his cigarette and arose, -stretching and grunting. "I shore ate too -much," he complained. "Well, there's one -thing about yore friend's ranch: he ain't got no -rustlers to fight, so he ain't as bad off as he might -be. I reckon he done named that crick hisself, -did n't he? I never heard tell of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; so Lewis says. He says </span><em class="italics">he 'd</em><span> called it -Split Mesa Crick, 'cause it empties into Mesa -River plumb acrost from a big mesa what's split -in two as clean as a knife could 'a' done it."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 82%" id="figure-57"> -<span id="there-was-a-sharp-report"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="There was a sharp report" src="images/img-039.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">There was a sharp report</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Bar-20 expectin' you?" casually asked -Jim as he picked up his saddle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shore; they done sent for me. Me an' Buck -is old friends. He was up in Montana ranchin' -with a pardner, but Slippery Trendley kills his -pardner's wife an' drove th' feller loco. Buck -an' him hunted Slippery for two years an' finally -drifted back south again. I dunno where -Frenchy is. If it wasn't for me I reckon -Buck 'd still be on th' warpath. You bet he 's -expectin' me!" He turned and threw his saddle -on the evil-tempered horse he rode and, cinching -deftly, slung himself up by the stirrup. As -he struck the saddle there was a sharp report -and he pitched off and sprawled grotesquely on -the sand. The little man peered through the -smoke and slid his gun back into the holster. -He turned to his companions, who looked on idly -and with but little interest. "Yo 're d—d -right Butch Lynch is too slick to get killed. I -ain't takin' no chances with nobody that rides -over my trail these days. An', boys, I got a -great scheme! It comes to me like a flash when -he 's talkin'. Come on, pull out; an' don't open -yore traps till I says so. I want to figger this -thing out to th' last card. George, shoot his -cayuse; an' not another sound."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that's a good cayuse; worth easy—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shoot it!" shouted Jim, his eyes snapping. -It was unnecessary to add the alternative, for -George and his companion had great respect for -the lightning-like, deadly-accurate gun hands. -He started to draw, but was too late. The -crashing report seemed to come from the leader's -holster, so quick had been the draw, and the horse -sank slowly down, but unobserved. Two pairs -of eyes asked a question of the little man and he -sneered in reply as he lowered the gun. "It -might 'a' been you. Hereafter do what I say. -Now, go on ahead, an' keep quiet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After riding along in silence for a little while -the leader looked at his companions and called -one of them to him. "George, this job is too -big for the three of us; we can handle the ranch -end, but not the drive. You know where Longhorn -an' his bunch are holdin' out on th' Tortilla? -All right; I 've got a proposition for 'em, an' -you are goin' up with it. It won't take you so -long if you wake up an' don't loaf like you have -been. Now you listen close, an' don't forget -a word": and the little man shared the plan he -had worked out, much to his companion's -delight. Having made the messenger repeat it, -the little man waved him off: "Get a-goin'; -you bust some records or I 'll bust you, savvy? -Charley 'll wait for you at that Split Mesa that -fool puncher was a-talkin' about. An' don't you -ride nowheres near it goin' up—keep to th' east -of it. So-long!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He watched the departing horseman swing in -and pass Charley and saw the playful blow and -counter. He smiled tolerantly as their words -came back to him, George's growing fainter and -fainter and Charley's louder and louder until -they rang in his ears. The smile changed subtly -and cynicism touched his face and lingered for -a moment. "Fine, big bodies—nothing else," -he muttered. "Big children, with children's -heads. A little courage, if steadied; but what a -paucity of brains! Good G—d, what a paucity -of brains; what a lack of original thought!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Of some localities it is said their inhabitants -do not die, but dry up and blow away; this, so -far as appearances went, seemed true of the -horseman who loped along the north bank of -Snake Creek, only he had not arrived at the -"blow away" period. No one would have -guessed his age as forty, for his leathery, -wrinkled skin, thin, sun-bleached hair and wizened -body justified a guess of sixty. A shrewd -observer looking him over would find about the -man a subtle air of potential destruction, which -might have been caused by the way he wore his -guns. A second look and the observer would -turn away oppressed by a disquieting feeling that -evaded analysis by lurking annoyingly just -beyond the horizon of thought. But a man strong -in intuition would not have turned away; he -would have backed off, alert and tense. Nearing -a corral which loomed up ahead, he pulled -rein and went on at a walk, his brilliant eyes -searching the surroundings with a thoroughness -that missed nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck Peters was complaining as he loafed for -a precious half hour in front of the corral, but -Red Connors and Bill Cassidy, his "outfit," -discussed the low prices cattle were selling for, the -over-stocked southern ranges and the crash that -would come to the more heavily mortgaged -ranches when the market broke. This was a -golden opportunity to stock the little ranch, and -Buck was taking advantage of it. But their -foreman persisted in telling his troubles and -finally, out of politeness, they listened. The -burden of the foreman's plaint was the -non-appearance of one Lanky Smith, an old friend. -When the second herd had been delivered -several weeks before, Buck, failing to persuade one -of the drive outfit to remain, had asked the trail -boss to send up Lanky, and the trail boss had -promised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red stretched and yawned. "Mebby he's -lost th' way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The foreman snorted. "He can foller a plain -trail, can't he? An' if he can ride past Split -Mesa, he's a bigger fool than I ever heard of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, mebby he got drunk an—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He don't get that drunk." Astonishment -killed whatever else he might have said, for a -stranger had ridden around the corral and sat -smiling at the surprise depicted on the faces of -the three.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck and Red, too surprised to speak, smiled -foolishly; Bill, also wordless, went upon his toes -and tensed himself for that speed which had -given to him hands never beaten on the draw. -The stranger glanced at him, but saw nothing -more than the level gaze that searched his -squinting eyes for the soul back of them. The squint -increased and he made a mental note concerning -Bill Cassidy, which Bill Cassidy already had done -regarding him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm called Tom Jayne," drawled the -stranger. "I 'm lookin' for Peters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes?" inquired Buck restlessly. "I 'm him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lewis sent me up to punch for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You plumb surprised us," replied Buck. -"We don't see nobody up here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reckon not," agreed Jayne smiling. "I -ain't been pestered a hull lot by th' inhabitants -on my way up. I reckon there 's more </span><em class="italics">buffalo</em><span> -than men in this country."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck nodded. "An' blamed few buffalo, too. -But Lewis did n't say nothin' about Lanky -Smith, did he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; Smith, he goes up in th' Panhandle for -to be a foreman. Lewis missed him. Th' -Panhandle must be purty nigh as crowded as this -country, I reckon," he smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," replied Buck, "anybody Lewis sends -up is good enough for me. I 'm payin' forty a -month. Some day I 'll pay more, if I 'm able -to an' it's earned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jayne nodded. "I 'm aimin' to be here when -th' pay is raised; an' I 'll earn it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then shake han's with Red an' Bill, an' come -with me," said Buck. He led the way to the -dugout, Bill and Red looking after him and -the little newcomer. Red shook his head. "I -dunno," he soliloquized, his eyes on the recruit's -guns. They were worn low on the thighs, and -the lower ends of the holsters were securely tied -to the trousers. They were low enough to have -the butts even with the swinging hands, so that -no time would have to be wasted in reaching for -them; and the sheaths were tied down, so they -would not cling to the guns and come up with -them on the draw. Bill wore his guns the same -way for the same reasons. Red glanced at his -friend. "He 's a queer li'l cuss, Bill," he -suggested. Receiving no reply, he grinned and tried -again. "I said as how he 's a queer li'l cuss." Bill -stirred. "Huh?" he muttered. Red -snorted. "Why, I says he's a drunk Injun -mendin' socks. What in blazes you reckon I 'd say!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, somethin' like that; but; you should 'a' -said he's a—a weasel. A cold-blooded, ferocious -li'l rat that 'd kill for th' joy of it," and -Bill moved leisurely to rope his horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red looked after him, cogitating deeply. -"Cussed if I hadn't, too! An' so he's a -two-gun man, like Bill. Wears 'em plumb low an' -tied. Yessir, he's a shore 'nuff weasel, all -right." He turned and watched Bill riding -away and he grinned as two pictures came to his -mind. In the first he saw a youth enveloped in -swirling clouds of acrid smoke as two Colts -flashed and roared with a speed incredible; in the -second there was no smoke, only the flashing of -hands and the cold glitter of steel, so quick as to -baffle the eye. And even now Bill practiced the -draw, which pleased the foreman; cartridges were -hard to get and cost money. Red roped his -horse and threw on the saddle. As he swung off -toward his section of the range he shook his head -and scowled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Weasel had the eastern section, the wildest -part of the ranch. It was cut and seared by -arroyos, barrancas and draws; covered with -mesquite and chaparral and broken by hills and -mesas. The cattle on it were lost in the chaotic -roughness and heavy vegetation and only showed -themselves when they straggled down to the river -or the creek to drink. A thousand head were -supposed to be under his charge, but ten times -that number would have been but a little more -noticeable. He quickly learned ways of riding -from one end of the section to the other without -showing himself to anyone who might be a -hundred yards from any point of the ride; he learned -the best grazing portions and the safest trails -from them to the ford opposite Split Mesa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was very careful not to show any interest -in Split Hill Canyon and hardly even looked at -it for the first week; then George returned from -his journey and reported favorably. He also, -with Longhorn's assistance, had picked out and -learned a good drive route, and it was decided -then and there to start things moving in earnest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were two thousand unbranded cattle on -the ranch, the entire second drive herd; most of -these were on the south section under Bill -Cassidy, and the remainder were along the river. -The Weasel learned that most of Bill's cows -preferred the river to the creek and crossed his -section to get there. That few returned was due, -perhaps, to their preference for the eastern -pasture. In a week the Weasel found the really -good grazing portions of his section feeding -more cows than they could keep on feeding; but -suddenly the numbers fell to the pastures' -capacity, without adding a head to Bill's herd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came a day when Red had been riding so -near the Weasel's section that he decided to go -on down and meet him as he rode in for dinner. -When Red finally caught sight of him the Weasel -was riding slowly toward the bunkhouse, buried -in thought. When his two men had returned -from their scouting trip and reported the best -way to drive, his and their work had begun in -earnest. One small herd had been driven north -and turned over to friends not far away, who -took charge of the herd for the rest of the drive -while the Weasel's companions returned to Split Hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Day after day he had noticed the diminishing -number of cows on his sections, which was ideally -created by nature to hide such a deficit, but from -now on it would require all his cleverness and -luck to hide the losses and he would be so busy -shifting cattle that the rustling would have to -ease up. One thing bothered him: Bill Cassidy -was getting very suspicious, and he was not -altogether satisfied that it was due to rivalry in -gun-play. He was so deeply engrossed in this -phase of the situation that he did not hear Red -approaching over the soft sand and before Red -could make his presence known something -occurred that made him keep silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Weasel, jarred by his horse, which shied -and reared with a vigor and suddenness its rider -believed entirely unwarranted under the -circumstances, grabbed the reins in his left hand and -jerked viciously, while his right, a blur of speed, -drew and fired the heavy Colt with such deadly -accuracy that the offending rattler's head -dropped under its writhing, glistening coils, -severed clean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red backed swiftly behind a chaparral and -cogitated, shaking his head slowly. "Funny how -bashful these gun-artists are!" he muttered. -"Now has he been layin' for big bets, or was -he—?" the words ceased, but the thoughts ran -on and brought a scowl to Red's face as he -debated the question.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The following day, a little before noon, two -men stopped with sighs of relief at the corral and -looked around. The little man riding the horse -smiled as he glanced at his tall companion. -"You won't have to hoof it no more, Skinny," -he said gladly. "It's been a' awful experience -for both of us, but you had th' worst end."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you stubborn li'l fool!" retorted -Skinny. "I can walk back an' do it all over -again!" He helped his companion down, -stripped off the saddle and turned the animal -loose with a resounding slap. "Huh!" he -grunted as it kicked up its heels. "You oughta -feel frisky, after loafin' for two weeks an' walkin' -for another. Come on, Lanky," he said, turning. -"There ain't nobody home, so we 'll get a fire -goin' an' rustle chuck for all han's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They entered the dugout and looked around, -Lanky sitting down to rest. His companion -glanced at the mussed bunks and started a fire -to get dinner for six. "Mebby they don't ride in -at noon," suggested the convalescent. "Then -we 'll eat it all," grinned the cook. "It's comin' -to us by this time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Weasel, riding toward the rear wall of -the dugout, increased the pace when he saw the -smoke pouring out of the chimney, but as he -neared the hut he drew suddenly and listened, -his expression of incredulity followed by one of -amazement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A hearty laugh and some shouted words sent -him spinning around and back to the chaparral. -As soon as he dared he swung north to the creek -and risked its quicksands to ride down its middle. -Reaching the river he still kept to the water -until he had crossed the ford and scrambled up the -further bank to become lost in the windings of the -canyon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very soon after the Weasel's departure Buck -dismounted at the corral and stopped to listen. -"Strangers," he muttered. "Glad they got th' -fire goin', anyhow." Walking to the hut he -entered and a yell met him at the instant recognition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hullo, Buck!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lanky!" he cried, leaping forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Easy!" cautioned the convalescent, evading -the hand. "I 've been all shot up an' I ain't -right yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That so! How 'd it happen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shake han's with Skinny Thompson, my fool -nurse," laughed Lanky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm a fool, all right, helpin' </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>," grinned -Skinny, gripping the hand. "But when I picks -him up down in th' Li'l Wind River country I -was a' angel. Looked after him for two weeks -down there, an' put in another gettin' up here. -Served him right, too, for runnin' away from me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Little Wind River country!" exclaimed -Buck. "Why, I thought you was a foreman in -th' Panhandle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Foreman nothin'," replied Lanky. "I was -shot up by a li'l runt of a rustler an' left to die -two hundred mile from nowhere. I was n't -expectin' no gun-play."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's ridin' up here," explained Skinny. -"Meets three fellers an' gets friendly. They -learns his business, an' drops him sudden when -he's mountin'. Butch Lynch did th' shootin'. -Butch got his name butcherin th' law. He -could n't make a livin' at it. Then he got chased -out of New Mexico for bein' mixed up in a -free-love sect, an' pulls for Chicago. He reckoned -he owned th' West, so he drifts down here again -an' turns rustler. I dunno why he plugs Lanky, -less 'n he thinks Lanky knows him an' might try -to hand him over. I 'm honin' for to meet Butch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck looked from one to the other in -amazement, suspicion raging in his mind. "Why, I -heard you went to th' Panhandle!" he ejaculated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Skinny grinned: "A fine foreman he'd -make, less 'n for a hawg ranch!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who told you that?" demanded Lanky, with -sudden interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Th' feller Lewis sent up in yore place."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" shouted both in one voice, and Lanky -gave a terse description of Butch Lynch. -"That him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's him," answered Buck. "But he was -alone. He 'll be in soon, 'long with Bill an' -Red—which way did you come?" he demanded -eagerly. "Why, that was through his -section—bet he saw you an' pulled out!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Skinny reached for his rifle: "I'm goin' to -see," he remarked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm with you," replied Buck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me, too," asserted Lanky, but he was pushed back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You stay here," ordered Buck. "He might -ride in. An' you 've got to send Bill an' Red -after us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanky growled, but obeyed, and trained his -rifle on the door. But the only man he saw was -Red, whose exit was prompt when he had learned the facts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down on the south section Bill, unaware of the -trend of events, looked over the little pasture -that nestled between the hills and wondered -where the small herd was. Up to within the last -few days he always had found it here, loath to -leave the heavy grass and the trickling spring, -and watched over by "Old Mosshead," a very -pugnacious steer. He scowled as he looked east -and shook his head. "Bet they 're crowdin' on -th' Weasel's section, too. Reckon I 'll go over -and look into it. He 'll be passin' remarks about -th' way I ride sign." But he reached the river -without being rewarded by the sight of many of -the missing cows and he became pugnaciously -inquisitive. He had searched in vain for awhile -when he paused and glanced up the river, -catching sight of a horseman who was pushing across -at the ford. "Now, what's th' Weasel doin' -over there?" he growled. "An' what's his hurry? -I never did put no trust in him an' I 'm going to -see what's up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not far behind him a tall, lean man peered -over the grass-fringed bank of a draw and -watched him cross the river and disappear over -the further bank. "Huh!" muttered Skinny, -riding forward toward the river. "That </span><em class="italics">might</em><span> -be one of Peters' punchers; but I 'll trail him to -make shore."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down the river Red watched Bill cross the -stream and then saw a stranger follow. "What -th' h—l!" he growled, pushing on. "That's -one of 'em trailin' Bill!" and he, in turn, forded -the river, hot on the trail of the stranger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill finally dismounted near the mesa, proceeded -on foot to the top of the nearest rise, and -looked down into the canyon at a point where it -widened into a circular basin half a mile across. -Dust was arising in thin clouds as the missing -cows, rounded up by three men, constantly -increased the rustlers' herd. To the northwest lay -the mesa, where the canyon narrowed to wind its -tortuous way through; to the southeast lay the -narrow gateway, where the towering, perpendicular -cliffs began to melt into the sloping sides of -hills and changed the canyon into a swiftly -widening valley. The sight sent the puncher -running toward the pass, for the herd had begun -to move toward that outlet, urged by the Weasel -and his nervous companions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Back in the hills Skinny was disgusted and -called himself names. To lose a man in less than -a minute after trailing him for an hour was more -than his sensitive soul could stand without -protest. Bill had disappeared as completely as if -he had taken wings and flown away. The -disgusted trailer, dropping to all-fours because of -his great height, went ahead, hoping to blunder -upon the man he had lost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Back of him was Red, whose grin was not so -much caused by Skinny's dilemma, which he had -sensed instantly, as it was by the inartistic -spectacle Skinny's mode of locomotion presented to -the man behind. There was humor a-plenty in -Red's make-up and the germ of mischief in his -soul was always alert and willing; his finger -itched to pull the trigger, and the grin spread as -he pondered over the probable antics of the man -ahead if he should be suddenly grazed by a bullet -from the rear. "Bet he 'd go right up on his -head an' kick," Red chuckled—and it took all his -will power to keep from experimenting. Then, -suddenly, Skinny disappeared, and Red's fretful -nature clawed at his tropical vocabulary with -great success. It was only too true—Skinny -had become absolutely lost, and the angry Bar-20 -puncher crawled furiously this way and that -without success, until Skinny gave him a hot -clew that stung his face with grit and pebbles. -He backed, sneezing, around a rock and wrestled -with his dignity. Skinny, holed up not far from -the canyon's rim, was throwing a mental fit and -calling himself outrageous names. "An' he's -been trailin' </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>! H—l of a fine fool I am; -I 'm awful smart today, I am! I done gave up -my teethin' ring too soon, I did." He paused -and scratched his head reflectively. "Huh! -</span><em class="italics">This</em><span> is some populous region, an' th' inhabitants -have pe-culiar ways. Now I wonder who's -trailin' him? I 'm due to get cross-eyed if I try -to stalk 'em both."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A bullet, fired from an unexpected direction, -removed the skin from the tip of Skinny's nose -and sent a shock jarring clean through him. "Is -that him, th' other feller, or somebody else?" he -fretfully pondered, raising his hand to the -crimson spot in the center of his face. He did not -rub it—he rubbed the air immediately in front of -it, and was careful to make no mistake in -distance. The second bullet struck a rock just -outside the gully and caromed over his head with a -scream of baffled rage. He shrunk, lengthwise -and sidewise, wishing he were not so long; but he -kept on wriggling, backward. "Not enough -English," he muttered. "Thank th' Lord he -can't massé!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The firing put a different aspect on things -down in the basin. The Weasel crowded the -herd into the gap too suddenly and caused a bad -jam, while his companions, slipping away among -the bowlders and thickets, worked swiftly but -cautiously up the cliff by taking advantage of -the crevices and seams that scored the wall. -Climbing like goats, they slipped over the top -and began a game of hide and seek over the -bowlder-strewn, chaparral-covered plateau to -cover the Weasel, who worked, without cover of -any kind, in the basin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red was deep in some fine calculations of -angles when his sombrero slid off his head and -displayed a new hole, which ogled at him with -Cyclopean ferocity. He ducked, and shattered -all existing records for the crawl, stopping finally -when he had covered twenty yards and collected -many thorns and bruises. He had worked close -to the edge of the cliff and as he turned to circle -back of his enemy he chanced to glance over the -rim, swore angrily and fired. The Weasel, -saving himself from being pinned under his stricken -horse, leaped for the shelter of the cover near the -foot of the basin's wall. Red was about to fire -again when he swayed and slipped down behind -a bowlder. The rustler, twenty yards away, -began to maneuver for another shot when Skinny's -rifle cracked viciously and the cattle thief, -staggering to the edge of the cliff, stumbled, fought -for his balance, and plunged down into the basin. -His companion, crawling swiftly toward -Skinny's smoke, showed himself long enough for Red -to swing his rifle and shoot offhand. At that -moment Skinny caught sight of him and believed he -understood the situation. "You Conners or -Cassidy?" he demanded over the sights. Red's -answer made him leap forward and in a few -moments the wounded man, bandaged and -supported by his new friend, hobbled to the rim of -the basin in time to see the last act of the tragedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gateway, now free of cattle, lay open and -the Weasel dashed for it in an attempt to gain -the horses picketed on the other side. He had -seen George plunge off the cliff and knew that -the game was up. As he leaped from his cover -Skinny's head showed over the rim of the cliff -and his bullet sang shrilly over the rustler's head. -The second shot was closer, but before Skinny -could try again Red's warning cry made him -lower the rifle and stare at the gateway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Weasel saw it at the same time, slowed to -a rapid walk, but kept on for the pass, his eyes -riveted malevolently on the youth who had -suddenly arisen from behind a bowlder and started to -meet him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's easy to get him now," growled Skinny, -starting to raise the rifle, a picture of Lanky's -narrow escape coming to his mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bill's right in line," whispered Red, leaning -forward tensely and robbing his other senses to -strengthen sight. "They 're th' best in th' -Southwest," he breathed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Below them Bill and the Weasel calmly -advanced, neither hurried nor touching a gun. -Sixty yards separated them—fifty—forty—thirty—"G—d -A'mighty!" whispered Skinny, -his nails cutting into his calloused palms. Red -only quivered. Twenty-five—twenty. Then -the Weasel slowed down, crouching a little, and -his swinging hands kept closer to his thighs. -Bill, though moving slowly, stood erect and did -not change his pace. Perspiration beaded the -faces of the watchers on the cliff and they almost -stopped breathing. This was worse than they -had expected—forty yards would have been close -enough to start shooting. "It's a pure case of -speed now," whispered Red, suddenly -understanding. The promised lesson was due—the -lesson the Weasel had promised to give Bill on -the draw. Accuracy deliberately was being -eliminated by that cold-blooded advance. -Fifteen yards—ten—eight—six—five—and a flurry -of smoke. There had been no movement to the -eyes of the watchers—just smoke, and the flat -reports, that came to them like two beats of a -snare drum's roll. Then they saw Bill step back -as the Weasel pitched forward. He raised his -eyes to meet them and nodded. "Come on, get -th' cayuses. We gotta round up th' herd afore it -scatters," he shouted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red leaned against Skinny and laughed -senselessly. "Ain't he a d—d fool?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Skinny stirred and nodded. "He shore is; -but come on. I don't want no argument with </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="jimmy-price"><span class="large">III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">JIMMY PRICE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On a range far to the north, Jimmy Price, -a youth as time measures age, followed -the barranca's edge and whistled cheerfully. He -had never heard of the Bar-20, and would have -showed no interest if he had heard of it, so long -as it lay so far away. He was abroad in search -of adventure and work, and while his finances -were almost at ebb tide he had youth, health, -courage and that temperament that laughs at -hard luck and believes in miracles. The tide was -so low it must turn soon and work would be -forthcoming when he needed it. Sitting in the -saddle with characteristic erectness he loped down -a hill and glanced at the faint trail that led into -the hills to the west. Cogitating a moment he -followed it and soon saw a cow, and soon after others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll round up th' ranch house, get a job for -awhile an' then drift on south again," he thought, -and the whistle rang out with renewed cheerfulness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He noticed that the trail kept to the low -ground, skirting even little hills and showing -marked preference for arroyos and draws with -but little regard, apparently, for direction or -miles. He had just begun to cross a small -pasture between two hills when a sharp voice asked -a question: "Where you goin'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wheeled and saw a bewhiskered horseman -sitting quietly behind a thicket. The stranger -held a rifle at the ready and was examining him -critically. "Where you goin'?" repeated the -stranger, ominously. "An' what's yore business?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy bridled at the other's impudent curiosity -and the tones in which it was voiced, and -as he looked the stranger over a contemptuous -smile flickered about his thin lips. "Why, I 'm -goin' west, an' I 'm lookin' for th' sunset," he -answered with an exasperating drawl. "Ain't -seen it, have you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other's expression remained unchanged, -as if he had not heard the flippant and -pugnacious answer. "Where you goin' an' what for?" -he demanded again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy turned further around in the saddle -and his eyes narrowed. "I 'm goin' to mind my -own business, because it's healthy," he retorted. -"You th' President, or only a king?" he demanded, -sarcastically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm boss of Tortilla range," came the even -reply. "You answer my question."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you can gimme a job an' save me a lot -of fool ridin'," smiled Jimmy. "It 'll be some -experience workin' for a sour dough as ornery -as you are. Fifty per', an' all th' rest of it. -Where do I eat an' sleep?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stranger gazed steadily at the cool, -impudent youngster, who returned the look with an -ironical smile. "Who sent you out here?" he -demanded with blunt directness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody," smiled Jimmy. "Nobody sends -me nowhere, never, 'less 'n I want to go. Purty -near time to eat, ain't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come over here," commanded the Boss of -Tortilla range.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's closer from you to me than from me to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yo 're some sassy, now ain't you? I 've got -a notion to drop you an' save somebody else th' job."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He 'll be lucky if you do, 'cause when that -gent drifts along I 'm natchurally goin' to get -there first. It's been tried already."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Anger glinted in the Boss's eyes, but slowly -faded as a grim smile fought its way into view. -"I 've a mind to give you a job just for th' great -pleasure of bustin' yore spirit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If yo 're bettin' on that card you wants to -have a copper handy," bantered Jimmy. "It's -awful fatal when it's played to win."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's yore name, you cub?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elijah—ain't I done prophesied? When do -I start punchin' yore eight cows, Boss?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Right now! I like yore infernal gall; an' -there's a pleasant time comin' when I starts -again' that spirit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then my name's Jimmy, which is enough for -you to know. Which cow do I punch first?" -he grinned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You ride ahead along th' trail. I 'll show -you where you eat," smiled the Boss, riding -toward him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy's face took on an expression of innocence -that was ludicrous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I allus let age go first," he slowly responded. -"I might get lost if I lead. I 'm plumb polite, I am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Boss looked searchingly at him and the -smile faded. "What you mean by that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just what I said. I 'm plumb polite, an' -hereby provin' it. I allus insist on bein' polite. -Otherwise, gimme my month's pay an' I 'll -resign. But I 'm shore some puncher," he laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I observed yore politeness. I 'm surprised -you even know th' term. But are you shore you -won't get lost if you foller me?" asked the Boss -with great sarcasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that's a chance I gotta take," Jimmy -replied as his new employer drew up alongside. -"Anyhow, yo 're better lookin' from behind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jimmy, my lad," observed the Boss, sorrowfully -shaking his head, "I shore sympathize with -th' shortness of yore sweet, young life. -Somebody 's natchurally goin' to spread you all over -some dismal landscape one of these days."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' he 'll be a whole lot lucky if I ain't around -when he tries it," grinned Jimmy. "I got a' -awful temper when I 'm riled, an' I reckons that -would rile me up quite a lot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Boss laughed softly and pushed on ahead, -Jimmy flushing a little from shame of his -suspicions. But a hundred yards behind him, -riding noiselessly on the sand and grass, was a man -who had emerged from another thicket when he -saw the Boss go ahead; and he did not for one -instant remove his eyes from the new member of -the outfit. Jimmy, due to an uncanny instinct, -soon realized it, though he did not look around. -"Huh! Reckon I 'm th' meat in this sandwich. -Say, Boss, who's th' Injun ridin' behind me?" -he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's Longhorn. Look out or he 'll gore -you," replied the Boss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'That 'd be a bloody shame,' as th' Englishman -said. Are all his habits as pleasant an' sociable?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They 're mostly worse; he's a two-gun man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now ain't that lovely! Wonder what he'd -do if I scratch my laig sudden?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me know ahead of time, so I can get out -of th' way. If you do that it 'll save me fifty -dollars an' a lot of worry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh! I won't save it for you. But I wish -I could get out my smokin' what's in my hip -pocket, without Longhorn gamblin' on th' move."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next day Jimmy rode the west section -harassed by many emotions. He was weaponless, -much to his chagrin and rage. He rode a horse -that was such a ludicrous excuse that it made -escape out of the question, and they even locked it -in the corral at night. He was always under the -eyes of a man who believed him ignorant of the -surveillance. He already knew that three -different brands of cattle "belonged" to the -"ranch," and his meager experience was sufficient -to acquaint him with a blotted brand when -the work had been carelessly done. The Boss -was the foreman and his outfit, so far as Jimmy -knew, consisted of Brazo Charley and Longhorn, -both of whom worked nights. The smiling -explanation of the Boss, when Jimmy's guns had -been locked up, he knew to be only part truth. -"Yo 're so plumb fighty we dass n't let you have -'em," the Boss had said. "If we got to bust yore -high-strung, unlovely spirit without killin' you, -you can't have no guns. An' th' corral gate is -shore padlocked, so keep th' cayuse I gave you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy, enraged, sprang forward to grab at -his gun, but Longhorn, dexterously tripping -him, leaned against the wall and grinned evilly -as the angry youth scrambled to his feet. "Easy, -Kid," remarked the gun-man, a Colt swinging -carelessly in his hand. "You 'll get as you give," -he grunted. "Mind yore own affairs an' work, -an' we 'll treat you right. Otherwise—" the -shrugging shoulders made further explanations -unnecessary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy looked from one to the other and -silently wheeled, gained the decrepit horse and -rode out to his allotted range, where he saturated -the air with impotent profanity. Chancing to -look back he saw a steer wheel and face the south; -and at other times during the day he saw that -repeated by other cattle—nor was this the only -signs of trailing. Having nothing to do but ride -and observe the cattle, which showed no desire -to stray beyond the range allotted to them, he -observed very thoroughly; and when he rode -back to the bunkhouse that night he had -deciphered the original brand on his cows and also -the foundation for that worn by Brazo Charley's -herd on the section next to him. "I dunno where -mine come from, but Charley's uster belong to -th' C I, over near Sagebrush basin. That's a -good hundred miles from here, too. Just wait -till I get a gun! Trip me an' steal my guns, -huh? If I had a good cayuse I 'd have that C -I bunch over here right quick! I reckon they 'd -like to see this herd."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he reached the bunkhouse all traces of -his anger had disappeared and he ate hungrily -during the silent meal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Longhorn and Brazo pushed away from -the table Jimmy followed suit and talked -pleasantly of things common to cowmen, until the two -picked up their saddles and rifles and departed -in the direction of the corral, the Boss staying -with Jimmy and effectually blocking the door. -But he could not block Jimmy's hearing so easily -and when the faint sound of hoofbeats rolled past -the bunkhouse Jimmy knew that there were -more than two men doing the riding. He -concluded the number to be five, and perhaps six; -but his face gave no indication of his mind's -occupation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Play crib?" abruptly demanded the Boss, -taking a well-worn deck of cards from a shelf. -Jimmy nodded and the game was soon going on. -"Seventeen," grunted the Boss, pegging slowly. -"Pair of fools, they are," he growled. "Both -plumb stuck on one gal an' they go courtin' -together. She reminds </span><em class="italics">me</em><span> of a slab of bacon, -she 's that homely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy laughed at the obvious lie. "Well, a -gal's a gal out here," he replied. "Twenty for -a pair," he remarked. He wondered, as he -pegged, if it was necessary to take along an escort -when one went courting on the Tortilla. The -idea of Brazo and Longhorn tolerating any rival -or any company when courting struck him as -ludicrous. "An' which is goin' to win out, do -you reckon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Longhorn—he 's bad; an' a better gun-man. -Twenty-three for six. Got th' other tray?" -anxiously grinned the Boss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothin' but an eight—that's two for th' go. -My crib?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Boss nodded. "Ugly as blazes," he -mused. "</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> would n't court her, not even in th' -dark—huh! Fifteen two an' a pair. That's -bad goin', very bad goin'," he sighed as he -pegged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you can't tell nothin' 'bout wimmen -from their looks," remarked Jimmy, with the -grave assurance of a man whose experience in -that line covered years instead of weeks. "Now -I knowed a right purty gal once. She was -plumb sweet an' tender an' clingin', she was. -An' she had high ideas, she did. She went an' -told me she would n't have nothin' to do with no -man what wasn't honest, an' all that. But -when a feller I knowed rid in to her place one -night she shore hid him under her bed for three -days an' nights. He had got real popular with -a certain posse because he was careless with a -straight iron. Folks fairly yearned for to get -a good look at him. They rid up to her place -and she lied so sweet an' perfect they shore -apologized for even botherin' her. Who 'd 'a' -thought to look under </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> bed, anyhow? Some -day he 'll go back an' natchurally run off with -that li'l gal." He scanned his hand and reached -for the pegs. "Got eight here," he grunted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Boss regarded him closely. "She stood -off a posse with her eyes an' mouth, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't have to stand 'em off. They was -plumb ashamed th' minute they saw her blushes. -An' they was plumb sorry for her bein' even a -li'l interested in a no-account brand-blotter -like—him." He turned the crib over and spread -it out with a sort of disgust. "Come purty near -bein' somethin' in that crib," he growled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' did you know that feller?" the Boss -asked carelessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy started a little. "Why, yes; he was -once a pal of mine. But he got so he could blot -a brand plumb clever. Us cow-punchers shore -like to gamble. We are plumb childish th' way -we bust into trouble. I never seen one yet that -was worth anythin' that would n't take 'most any -kind of a fool chance just for th' devilment of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Boss ruffled his cards reflectively. "Yes; -we are a careless breed. Sort of flighty an' -reckless. Do you think that gal's still in love -with you? Wimmin' is fickle," he laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">She</em><span> ain't," retorted Jimmy with spirit. -"She 'll wait all right—for him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Boss smiled cynically. "You can't hide -it, Jimmy. Yo 're th' man what got so popular -with th' sheriff. Ain't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy half arose, but the Boss waved him -to be seated again. "Why, you ain't got nothin' -to fear out here," he assured him. "We sorta -like fellers that 'll take a chance. I reckon we -all have took th' short end one time or another. -An' I got th' idea mebby yo 're worth more 'n -fifty a month. Take any chances for a hundred?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy relaxed and grinned cheerfully. "I -reckon I 'd do a whole lot for a hundred real -dollars every month."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yo 're on, fur 's I 'm concerned. I 'll have -to speak to th' boys about it, first. Well, I 'm -goin' to turn in. You ride Brazo's an' yore own -range for th' next couple of days. Good night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy arose and sauntered carelessly to the -door, watched the Boss enter his own house, and -then sat down on the wash bench and gazed -contentedly across the moonlit range. "Gosh," he -laughed as he went over his story of the beautiful -girl with the high ideals. "I 'm gettin' to -be a sumptuous liar, I am. It comes so easy I -gotta look out or I'll get th' habit. I'd do -mor'n lie, too, to get my gun back, all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stretched ecstatically and then sat up -straight. The Boss was coming toward him and -something in his hand glittered in the soft -moonlight as it swung back and forth. "Forget -somethin'?" called Jimmy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You better stop watchin' th' moonlight," -laughed the Boss as he drew near. "That's a -bad sign—'specially while that gal's waitin' for -you. Here's yore gun an' belt—I reckoned -mebby you might need it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy chuckled as he took the weapon. "I -ain't so shore 'bout needin' it, but I was plumb -lost without it. Kept feelin' for it all th' time -an' it was gettin' on my nerves." He weighed -it critically and spun the cylinder, carelessly -feeling for the lead in the chambers as the -cylinder stopped. Every one was loaded and a -thrill of fierce joy surged over him. But he was -suspicious—the offer was too quick and -transparent. Slipping on the belt he let the gun -slide into the blackened holster and grinned up -at the Boss. "Much obliged. It feels right, -now." He drew the Colt again and emptied the -cartridges into his hand. "Them 's th' only pills -as will cure troubles a doctor can't touch," he -observed, holding one up close to his face and -shaking it at the smiling Boss in the way of emphasis. -His quick ear caught the sound he strained to -hear, the soft swish inside the shell. "Them 's -Law in this country," he soliloquized as he slid -the tested shell in one particular chamber and -filled all the others. "Yessir," he remarked as -the cylinder slowly revolved until he had counted -the right number of clicks and knew that the -tested shell was in the right place. "Yessir, -them's The Law." The soft moonlight suddenly -kissed the leveled barrel and showed the -determination that marked the youthful face -behind it. "An' it shore works both ways, Boss," -he said harshly. "Put up yore paws!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the Boss leaped forward the hammer fell -and caused a faint, cap-like report. Then the -stars streamed across Jimmy's vision and became -blotted out by an inky-black curtain that -suddenly enveloped him. The Boss picked up the -gun and, tossing it on the bench, waited -for the prostrate youth to regain his senses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy stirred and looked around, his eyes -losing their look of vacancy and slowly filling -with murderous hatred as he saw the man above -him and remembered what had occurred. "Sand -</span><em class="italics">sounds</em><span> like powder, my youthful friend," the -Boss was saying, "but it don't </span><em class="italics">work</em><span> like powder. -I purty near swallowed yore gal story; but I -sorta reckoned mebby I better make shore about -you. Yo 're clever, Jimmy; so clever that I -dass n't take no chances with you. I 'll just tie -you up till th' boys come back—we both know -what they 'll say. I 'd 'a' done it then only I -like you; an' I wish you had been in earnest about -joinin' us. Now get up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy arose slowly and cautiously and then -moved like a flash, only to look down the barrel -of a Colt. His clenched hands fell to his side -and he bowed his head; but the Boss was too wary -to be caught by any pretenses of a broken spirit. -"Turn 'round an' hol' up yore han's," he ordered. -"I 'll blow you apart if you even squirms."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy obeyed, seething with impotent fury, -but the steady pressure of the Colt on his back -told him how useless it was to resist. Life was -good, even a few hours of it, for in those few -hours perhaps a chance would come to him. The -rope that had hung on the wall passed over his -wrists and in a few moments he was helpless. -"Now sit down," came the order and the prisoner -obeyed sullenly. The Boss went in the -bunkhouse and soon returned, picked up the captive -and, carrying him to the bunk prepared for him, -dumped him in it, tied a few more knots and, -closing the door, securely propped it shut and strode -toward his own quarters, swearing savagely -under his breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An hour later, while a string of horsemen rode -along the crooked, low-lying trail across the -Tortilla, plain in the moonlight, a figure at the -bunkhouse turned the corner, slipped to the door and -carefully removed the props.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Waiting a moment it opened the door slowly -and slipped into the black interior, and chuckled -at the sarcastic challenge from the bunk. -"Sneakin' back again, hey?" blazed Jimmy, -trying in vain to bridge on his head and heels and -turn over to face the intruder. "Turn me loose -an' gimme a gun—I oughta have a chance!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," said a quiet, strange voice. -"That's what I'm here for; but don't talk so -loud."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who 're you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name 's Cassidy. I 'm from th' Bar-20, -what owns them cows you been abusin'. -Huh! he shore tied some knots! Wasn't takin' no -more chances with you, all right!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"G'wan! He never did take none."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I 've observed. Get th' blood circulatin' -an' I 'll give you some war-medicine for that -useless gun of yourn what ain't sand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good for you! I'll sidle up agin' that -shack an' fill him so full of lead he won't know -what hit him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, every man does things in his own way; -but I 've been thinkin' he oughta have a chance. -He shore gave you some. Take it all in all, he 's -been purty white to you, Kid. Longhorn 'd 'a' -shot you quick tonight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; an' I 'm goin' to get him, too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you ain't got no gratitude," sighed -Cassidy. "You want to hog it all. I was figgerin' -to clean out this place by myself, but now you -cut in an' want to freeze me out. But, Kid, -mebby Longhorn won't come back no more. -My outfit's a-layin' for his li'l party. I sent -'em down word to expect a call on our north -section; an' I reckon they got a purty good idea of -th' way up here, in case they don't receive -Longhorn an' his friends as per schedule."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long you been up here?" asked Jimmy -in surprise, pausing in his operation of starting -his blood to circulating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Long enough to know a lot about this layout. -For instance, I know yo 're honest. That's why -I cut you loose tonight. You see, my friends -might drop in here any minute an' if you was in -bad company they might make a mistake. They -acts some hasty, at times. I 'm also offerin' you -a good job if you wants it. We need another man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm yourn, all right. An' I reckon I will -give th' Boss a chance. He'll be more surprised, -that way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cassidy nodded in the dark. "Yes, I reckon -so; he 'll have time to wonder a li'l. Now you -tell me how yo 're goin' at this game."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he didn't get a chance then, for his -companion, listening intently, whistled softly and -received an answer. In another moment the room -was full of figures and the soft buzz of animated -conversation held his interest. "All right," said -a deep voice. "We 'll keep on an' get that herd -started back at daylight. If Longhorn shows up -you can handle him; if you can't, there 's yore -friend Jimmy," and the soft laugh warmed -Jimmy's heart. "Why, Buck," replied Jimmy's -friend, "he 's spoke for that job already." The -foreman turned and paused as he stood in the -door. "Don't forget; you ain't to wait for us. -Take Jimmy, if you wants, an' head for Oleson's. -I ain't shore that herd of hissn is good -enough for us. We 'll handle this li'l -drive-herd easy. So long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red Connors stuck his head through a small -window: "Hey, if Longhorn shows up, give -him my compliments. I shore bungled that shot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tain't th' first," chuckled Cassidy. But -Buck cut short the arguments and led the way to -Jimmy's pasture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At daylight the Boss rolled out of his bunk, -started a fire and put on a kettle of water to get -hot. Buckling on his gun he opened the door -and started toward the bunkhouse, where everything -appeared to be as he had left it the night -before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a cussed shame," he growled. "But I -can't risk him bringin' a posse out here. </span><em class="italics">What</em><span> -th' devil!" he shouted as he ducked. A bullet -sang over his head, high above him, and he -glanced at the bunkhouse with renewed interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having notified the Boss of his intentions and -of the change in the situation, Jimmy walked -around the corner of the house and sent one -dangerously close to strengthen the idea that sand -was no longer sand. But the Boss had -surmised this instantly and was greatly shocked by -such miraculous happenings on his range. He -nodded cheerfully at the nearing youth and as -cheerfully raised his gun. "An' he gave me a -chance, too! He could 'a' got me easy if he -didn't warn me! Well, here goes, Kid," he -muttered, firing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy promptly replied and scored a hit. It -was not much of a hit, but it carried reflection -in its sting. The Boss's heart hardened as he -flinched instinctively and he sent forth his shots -with cool deliberation. Jimmy swayed and -stopped, which sent the Boss forward on the -jump. But the youth was only further proving -his cleverness against a man whom he could not -beat at so long a range. As the Boss stopped -again to get the work over with, a flash of smoke -spurted from Jimmy's hand and the rustler spun -half way around, stumbled and fell. Jimmy -paused in indecision, a little suspicious of the -fall, but a noise behind him made him wheel -around to look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A horseman, having topped the little hill just -behind the bunkhouse, was racing down the slope -as fast as his worn-out horse could carry him, and -in his upraised hand a Colt glittered as it swung -down to become lost in a spurt of smoke. -Longhorn, returning to warn his chief, felt savage -elation at this opportunity to unload quite a -cargo of accumulated grouches of various kinds -and sizes, which collection he had picked up from -the Bar-20 northward in a running fight of -twenty miles. Only a lucky cross trail, that had -led him off at a tangent and somehow escaped the -eyes of his pursuers, had saved him from the fate -of his companions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy swung his gun on the newcomer, but -it only clicked, and the vexed youth darted and -dodged and ducked with a speed and agility very -creditable as he jammed cartridges into the -empty chambers. Jimmy's interest in the new -conditions made him forget that he had a gun -and he stared in rapt and delighted anticipation -at the cloud of dust that swirled suddenly from -behind the corral and raced toward the -disgruntled Mr. Longhorn, shouting Red's message -as it came.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Cassidy sat jauntily erect and guided his -fresh, gingery mount by the pressure of cunning -knees. The brim of his big sombrero, pinned -back against the crown by the pressure of the -wind, revealed the determination and optimism -that struggled to show itself around his firmly -set lips; his neckerchief flapped and cracked -behind his head and the hairs of his snow-white -goatskin chaps rippled like a thing of life and caused -Jimmy, even in his fascinated interest, to covet them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Longhorn's soul held no reverence for -goatskin and he cursed harder when Red's -compliments struck his ear about the time one of -Cassidy's struck his shoulder. He was firing -hastily against a man who shot as though the -devil had been his teacher. The man from the -Bar-20 used two guns and they roared like the -roll of a drum and flashed through the heavy, -low-lying cloud of swirling smoke like the -darting tongue of an angry snake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Longhorn, enveloped in the acrid smoke of -his own gun, which wrapped him like a gaseous -shroud, knew that his end had come. He was -being shot to pieces by a two-gun man, the like -of whose skill he had never before seen or heard -of. As the last note of the short, five second, -cracking tattoo died away Mr. Cassidy slipped -his empty guns in their holsters and turned his -pony's head toward the fascinated spectator, -whose mouth offered easy entry to smoke and -dust. As Cassidy glanced carelessly back at the -late rustler Jimmy shut his mouth, gulped, -opened it to speak, shut it again and cleared his -dry throat. Looking from Cassidy to Longhorn -and back again, he opened his mouth once more. -"You—you—what'd'ju pay for them chaps?" -he blurted, idiotically.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="jimmy-visits-sharpsville"><span class="large">IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">JIMMY VISITS SHARPSVILLE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Bill Cassidy rode slowly into Sharpsville -and dismounted in front of Carter's -Emporium, nodding carelessly to the loungers -hugging the shade of the store. "Howd'y," he -said. "Seen anything of Jimmy Price—a kid, -but about my height, with brown hair and a -devilish disposition?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carter stretched and yawned, a signal for -a salvo of yawns. "Nope, thank God. You -need n't describe nothin' about that Price cub to -none of us. </span><em class="italics">We</em><span> know him. He spent three -days here about a year ago, an' th' town 's been -sorta restin' up ever since. You don't mean for -to tell us he 's comin' here again!" he exclaimed, -sitting up with a jerk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill laughed at the expression. "As long as -you yearn for him so powerful hard, why I gotta -tell you he 's on his way, anyhow. I had to go -east for a day's ride an' he headed this way. -He 's to meet me here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carter turned and looked at the others blankly. -Old Dad Johnson nervously stroked his chin. -"Well, then he 'll git here, all right," he -prophesied pessimistically. "He usually gets where he -starts for; an' I 'm plumb glad I 'm goin' on to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha!" laughed George Bruce. "So 'm I -goin' on, by Scott!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Grunts and envious looks came from the group -and Carter squirmed uneasily. "That's just -like you fellers, runnin' away an' leavin' me to -face it. An' it was you fellers what played most -of th' tricks on him last time he was here. Huh! now -I gotta pay for 'em," he growled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill glanced over the gloomy circle and -laughed heartily. Two faces out of seven were -bright, Dad's particularly so. "Well, he seems -to be quite a favorite around here," he grinned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carter snorted. "Huh! Seems to be nothin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He ain't exactly a favorite," muttered Dawson. -"He 's a—a—an event; that's what he is!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carter nodded. "Yep; that's what he is, -'though you just can't help likin' th' cub, he 's -that cheerful in his devilment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Charley Logan stretched and yawned. -"Didn't hear nothin' about no Injuns, did you? -A feller rid through here yesterday an' said they -was out again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill nodded. "Yes; I did. An' there 's a lot -of rumors goin' around. They 've been over in -th' Crazy Butte country an' I heard they raided -through th' Little Mountain Valley last week. -Anyhow, th' Seventh is out after 'em, in four -sections."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Th' Seventh is </span><em class="italics">a</em><span> regiment," asserted George -Bruce. "Leastawise it was when I was in it. -It is th' best in th' Service."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dad snorted. "Listen to him! It was when -he was in it! Lordy, Lordy, Lordy!" he chuckled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There hain't no cavalry slick enough to ketch -Apaches," declared Hank, dogmatically. -"Troops has too many fixin's an' sech. You -gotta travel light an' live without eatin' an' -drinkin' to ketch them Injuns; an' then you -never hardly sometimes see 'em, at that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lemme tell you, Mosshead, th' Seventh can -lick all th' Injuns ever spawned!" asserted Bruce -with heat. "It wiped out Black Kettle's camp, -in th' dead of winter, too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was Custer as did that," snorted Carter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he was leadin' th' Seventh, same as he is now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Charley Logan shook his head. "We are -talking about ketchin' 'em, not fightin' 'em. An' -no cavalry in th' hull country can ketch 'Paches -in </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> country—it's too rough. 'Paches are -only scared of punchers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shore," asserted Carter. "Apaches laugh at -troops, less 'n it's a pitched battle, when they -don't. Cavalry chases 'em so fur an' no farther; -punchers chase 'em inter h—l, out of it an' back again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They shore is 'lusive," cogitated Lefty -Dawson, carefully deluging a fly ten feet away and -shifting his cud for another shot. "An' I, for -one, admits I ain't hankerin' for to chase 'em -close."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wish we could get that cub Jimmy to chase -some," exclaimed Carter. "Afore he gits here," -he explained, thoughtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he 's all right, Carter," spoke up Lefty. -"We was all of us young and playful onct."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But we all war n't he-devils workin' day an' -night tryin' to make our betters miserable!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he 's a good kid," remarked Dad. "I -sorta hates to miss him. Anyhow, we got th' -best of him, last time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill finished rolling a cigarette, lit it and -slowly addressed them. "Well, all I got to say -is that he suits me right plumb down to th' -ground. Now, just lemme tell you somethin' -about Jimmy," and he gave them the story of -Jimmy's part in the happenings on Tortilla -Range, to the great delight of his audience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Scott, it's just like him!" chuckled George Bruce.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's shore Jimmy, all right," laughed Lefty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> tell you?" beamed Dad. "He 's -a heller, he is. He 's all right!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why don't you stay an' see him?" -demanded Carter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I gotta go on, or I would. Yessir, I would!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reckon them Injuns won't git so fur north -as here," suggested Carter hopefully, and harking -back to the subject which lay heaviest on his -mind. "They 've only been here twict in ten years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which was twice too often," asserted Lefty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Th' last time they was here," remarked Dad, -reminiscently, "they didn't stop long; though -where they went to I dunno. We gave 'em -more 'n they could handle. That was th' time -I just bought that new Sharps rifle, an' what I -done with that gun was turrible." He paused to -gather the facts in the right order before he told -the story, and when he looked around again he -flushed and swore. The audience had silently -faded away to escape the moth-eaten story they -knew by heart. The fact that Dad usually -improved it and his part in it, each time he told it, -did not lure them. "Cussed ingrates!" he swore, -turning to Bill. "They 're plumb jealous!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They act like it, anyhow," agreed Bill soberly. -"I 'd like to hear it, but I 'm too thirsty. -Come in an' have one with me?" The story was -indefinitely postponed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An accordion wheezed down the street and a -mouth-organ tried desperately to join in from -the saloon next door, but, owing to a great -difference in memory, did not harmonize. A roar -of laughter from Dawson's, and the loud clink -of glasses told where Dad's would-have-been -audience then was. Carter walked around his -counter and seated himself in his favorite place -against the door jamb. Bill, having eluded -Dad, sat on a keg of edibles and smoked in -silence and content, occasionally slapping at the -flies which buzzed persistently around his head. -Knocking the ashes from the cigarette he leaned -back lazily and looked at Carter. "Wonder -where he is?" he muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh?" grunted the proprietor, glancing -around. "Oh, you worryin' about that yearlin'? -Well, you needn't! Nothin' never sidetracks -Jimmy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A fusillade of shots made Bill stand up, and -Carter leaped to his feet and dashed toward the -counter. But he paused and looked around -foolishly. "That's his yell," he explained. -"Didn't I tell you? He's arrove, same as usual."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The drumming of hoofs came rapidly nearer -and heads popped out of windows and doors, -each head flanked by a rifle barrel. Above a -swirling cloud of dust glinted a spurting Colt -and thrust through the smudge was a hand -waving a strange collection of articles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hullo, Kid!" shouted Dawson. "What you -got? See any Injuns?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a G-string an' a medicine-bag, by all -that's holy!" cried Dad from the harness shop. -"Where 'd you git 'em, Jimmy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy drew rein and slid to a stand, pricking -his nettlesome "Calico" until it pranced to suit -him. Waving the Apache breech-cloth, the -medicine-bag and a stocking-shaped moccasin in -one hand, he proudly held up an old, dirty, -battered Winchester repeater in the other and -whooped a war-cry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blame my hide!" shouted Dad, running out -into the street. "It is a G-string! He 's gone -an' got one of 'em! He 's gone an' got a 'Pache! -Good boy, Kid! An' how 'd you do it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carter plodded through the dust with Bill -close behind. "</span><em class="italics">Where'd</em><span> you do it?" demanded -the proprietor eagerly. To Carter location -meant more than method. He was plainly -nervous. When he reached the crowd he, in turn, -examined the trophies. They were genuine, and -on the G-string was a splotch of crimson, muddy -with dust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's in the war-bag, Kid?" demanded -Lefty, preparing to see for himself. Jimmy -snatched it from his hands. "You never mind -what's in it, Freckle-face!" he snapped. -"That's my bag, </span><em class="italics">now</em><span>. Want to spoil my luck?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How'd you do it?" demanded Dad breathlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Where</em><span> 'd you do it?" snapped Carter. He -glanced hurriedly around the horizon and -repeated the question with vehemence. "Where 'd -you get him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In th' groin, first. Then through th'—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mean where, I mean </span><em class="italics">where</em><span>—near -here?" interrupted Carter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, fifteen mile east," answered Jimmy. -"He was crawlin' down on a bunch of cattle. He -saw me just as I saw him. But he missed an' I -did n't," he gloated proudly. "I met a Pawnee -scout just afterward an' he near got shot before -he signaled. He says hell's a-poppin'. Th' -'Paches are raidin' all over th' country, down—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knowed it!" shouted Carter. "Yessir, I -knowed it! I felt it all along! Where you finds -one you finds a bunch!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll give 'em blazes, like th' last time!" -cried Dad, hurrying away to the harness shop -where he had left his rifle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 've been needin' some excitement for a long -time," laughed Dawson. "I shore hope they come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carter paused long enough to retort over his -shoulder: "An' I hopes you drop dead! You -never did have no sense! Not nohow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill smiled at the sudden awakening and -watched the scrambling for weapons. "Why, -there 's enough men here to wipe out a tribe. I -reckon we 'll stay an' see th' fun. Anyhow, it 'll -be a whole lot safer here than fightin' by ourselves -out in th' open somewhere. What you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You could n't drag me away from this town -right now with a cayuse," Jimmy replied, gravely -hanging the medicine-bag around his neck and -then stuffing the gory G-string in the folds of the -slicker he carried strapped behind the cantle of -the saddle. "We 'll see it out right here. But I -do wish that 'Pache owned a better gun than this -thing. It's most fallin' apart an' ain't worth -nothin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill took it and examined the rifling and the -breech-block. He laughed as he handed it back. -"You oughta be glad it was n't a better gun, Kid. -I don't reckon he could put two in the same place -at two hundred paces with this thing. I ain't -even anxious to shoot it off on a bet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy gasped suddenly and grinned until the -safety of his ears was threatened. "Would you -look at Carter?" he chuckled, pointing. Bill -turned and saw the proprietor of Carter's -Emporium carrying water into his store, and with a -speed that would lead one to infer that he was -doing it on a wager. Emerging again he saw the -punchers looking at him and, dropping the -buckets, he wiped his face on his sleeve and shook -his head. "I 'm fillin' everything," he called. -"I reckon we better stand 'em off from my store—th' -walls are thicker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill smiled at the excuse and looked down the -street at the adobe buildings. "What about th' -'dobes, Carter?" he asked. The walls of some -of them were more than two feet thick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carter scowled, scratched his head and made a -gesture of impatience. "They ain't big enough -to hold us all," he replied, with triumph. "This -here store is th' best place. An', besides, it's all -stocked with water an' grub, an' everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy nodded. "Yo 're right, Carter; it's -th' best place." To Bill he said in an aside, -"He 's plumb anxious to protect that shack, now -ain't he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lefty Dawson came sauntering up. "Wonder -if Carter 'll let us hold out in his store?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He 'll pay you to," laughed Bill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's loop-holed. Been so since th' last raid," -explained Lefty. "An' it's chock full of grub," -he grinned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They heard Dad's voice around the corner. -"Just like last time," he was saying. "We -oughta put four men in Dick's 'dobe acrost th' -street. Then we'd have a strategy position. -You see—oh, hullo," he said as he rounded the -corner ahead of George Bruce. "Who 's goin' -on picket duty?" he demanded.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Under the blazing sun a yellow dog -wandered aimlessly down the deserted street, his -main interest in life centered on his skin, which he -frequently sat down to chew. During the brief -respites he lounged in the doors of deserted -buildings, frequently exploring the quiet interiors for -food. Emerging from the "hotel" he looked -across the street at the Emporium and barked -tentatively at the man sitting on its flat roof. -Wriggling apologetically, he slowly gained the -middle of the street and then sat down to -investigate a sharp attack. A can sailed out of the -open door and a flurry of yellow streaked around -the corner of the "hotel" and vanished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the Emporium grave men played poker for -nails, Bill Cassidy having corralled all the -available cash long before this, and conversed in low -tones. The walls, reinforced breast high by -boxes, barrels and bags, were divided into regular -intervals by the open loopholes, each opening -further indicated by a leaning rifle or two and -generous piles of cartridges. Two tubs and half -a dozen buckets filled with water stood in the -center of the room, carefully covered over with -boards and wrapping paper. Clouds of tobacco -smoke lay in filmy stratums in the heated air and -drifted up the resin-streaked sides of the building. -The shimmering, gray sand stretched away in a -glare of sunlight and seemed to writhe under the -heated air, while droning flies flitted lazily -through the windows and held caucuses on the -sugar barrel. A slight, grating sound overhead -caused several of the more irritable or energetic -men to glance up lazily, grateful they were -not in Hank's place. It was hot enough under -the roof, and they stretched ecstatically as they -thought of Hank. Three days' vigil and anxiety -had become trying even to the most stolid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John Carter fretfully damned solitaire and -pushed the cards away to pick up pencil and -paper and figure thoughtfully. This seemed to -furnish him with even less amusement, for he -scowled and turned to watch the poker game. -"Huh," he sniffed, "playin' poker for nails! An' -you don't even own th' nails," he grinned -facetiously, and glanced around to see if his point was -taken. He suddenly stiffened when he noticed -the man who sat on his counter and labored -patiently and zealously with a pocket knife. -"Hey, you!" he exclaimed excitedly, his wrath -quickly aroused. "Ain't you never had no -bringin' up? If yo 're so plumb sot on whittlin', you -tackle that sugar barrel!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy looked the barrel over critically and -then regarded the peeved proprietor, shaking his -head sorrowfully. "This here is a better medjum -for the ex-position of my art," he replied gravely. -"An' as for bringin' up, lemme observe to these -gents here assembled that you ain't never had no -artistic trainin'. Yore skimpy soul is dwarfed -an' narrowed by false weights and dented -measures. You can look a sunset in th' face an' -not see it for countin' yore profits." Carter -glanced instinctively at the figures as Jimmy -continued. "An' you can't see no beauty in a daisy's -grace—which last is from a book. I 'm here -carvin' th' very image of my cayuse an' givin' you -a work of art, free an' gratis. I 'm timid an' -sensitive, I am; an' I 'll feel hurt if—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop that noise," snorted a man in the corner, -turning over to try again. "Sensitive an' timid? -Yes; as a mule! Shut up an' lemme get a little -sleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A-men," sighed a poker-player. "An' let -him sleep—he 's a cussed nuisance when he 's -awake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two mules," amended the dealer. "Which -is worse than one," he added thoughtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We oughta put four men in that 'dobe—" -began Dad persistently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' will you shut up about that 'dobe an' yore -four men?" snapped Lefty. "Can't you say -nothin' less 'n it's about that mud hut?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy smiled maddeningly at the irritated -crowd. "As I was sayin' before you all -interrupted me, I 'll feel hurt—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You </span><em class="italics">will</em><span>; an' quick!" snapped Carter. "You -quit gougin' that counter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill craned his neck to examine the carving, -and forthwith held out a derisively pointing -forefinger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cayuse?" he inquired sarcastically. "Looks -more like th' map of th' United States, with some -almost necessary parts missin'. Your geography -musta been different from mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The artist smiled brightly. "Here 's a man -with imagination, th' emancipator of thought. -It's crude an' untrained, but it's there. Imagination -is a hopeful sign, for it is only given to -human bein's. From this we surmise an' must -conclude that Bill is human."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will somebody be liar enough to say th' same -of you?" politely inquired the dealer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you fools shut up?" demanded the man -who would sleep. He had been on guard half -the night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you oughta label it, Jimmy," said Bill. -"You 've got California bulgin' too high up, an' -Florida sticks out th' wrong way. Th' Great -Lakes is </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> wrong—looks like a kidney slippin' -off of Canada. An' where's Texas?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh! It 'd have to be a cow to show Texas," -grinned Dad Johnson, who, it appeared, also had -an imagination and wanted people to know it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You cuttin' in on this teet-a-teet?" demanded -Jimmy, dodging the compliments of the sleepy -individual.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As a map it is no good," decided Bill decisively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is no map," retorted Jimmy. "I know -where California bulges an' how Florida sticks -out. What you call California is th' south end -of th' cayuse, above which I 'm goin' to put th' -tail—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not if I'm man enough, you ain't!" interposed -Carter, with no regard for politeness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"—where I 'm goin' to put th' tail," repeated -Jimmy. "Florida is one front laig raised off th' -ground—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Trick cayuse, by Scott!" grunted George -Bruce. "No wonder it looks like a map."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Th' Great Lakes is th' saddle, an' Maine is -where th' mane goes—</span><em class="italics">Ouch</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mangy pun," grinned Bill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kentucky ought to be under th' saddle," -laughed Dad, smacking his lips. "Pass th' -bottle, John."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You take too much an' we'll all be Ill-o'-noise," -said Charley Logan alertly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Them Injuns can't come too soon to suit </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>," -growled Fred Thomas. "Who started this, anyhow?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sleepy man arose on one elbow, his eyes -glinting. "After th' fight, you ask </span><em class="italics">me</em><span> th' same -thing! Th' answer will be ME!" he snapped. -"I 'm goin' to clean house in about two minutes, -an' fire you all out in th' street!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy smiled down at him. "Well, you -needn't be so sweepin' an' extensive in yore -cleanin' operations," he retorted. "All you gotta -do is go outside an' roll in th' dust like a chicken."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crowd roared its appreciation and the -sleepy individual turned over again, growling -sweeping opinions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if them Injuns are comin' I shore wish -they 'd hurry up an' do it," asserted Dad. "I -ought to 'a' been home three days ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wish to G—d you was!" came from the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill tossed away his half-smoked cigarette, -Carter promptly plunging into the sugar -barrel after it. "They ain't comin'," Bill -asserted. "Every time some drunk Injun gets in -a fight or beats his squaw th' rumor starts. An' -by th' time it gets to us it says that all th' Apaches -are out follerin' old Geronimo on th' war trail. -He can be more places at once than anybody </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> -ever heard of. I 'm ridin' on tomorrow morning, -'Paches or no 'Paches."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good!" exclaimed Jimmy, glancing at Carter. -"I 'll have this here carving all done by then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a sudden scrambling and thumping -overhead and hot exclamations zephyred down -to them. Carter dashed to the door, while the -others reached for rifles and began to take up -positions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See 'em, Hank?" cried Carter anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See what?" came a growl from above.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Injuns, of course, you d—d fool!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naw," snorted Hank. "There ain't no Injuns -out at all, not after Jimmy got that one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what's th' matter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dawg's lickin' yore dawg. </span><em class="italics">Sic</em><span> him, -Pete! Hi, there! Don't you run!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dawg still gettin' licked?" grinned Carter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll swap you," offered Hank promptly. -"Mine can lick yourn, anyhow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In a race, mebby."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"H—l!" growled Hank, cautiously separating -himself from a patch of hot resin that had exuded -generously from a pine knot. "I 'm purty nigh -cooked an' I 'm comin' down, Injuns or no -Injuns. If they was comin' this way they'd 'a' -been here long afore this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that Pawnee told Price they was out," -objected Carter. "Cassidy heard th' same thing, -too. An' didn't Jimmy get one!" he finished -triumphantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Th' Pawnee was drunk!" retorted Hank, -collecting splinters as he slipped a little down the -roof. "Great Mavericks! This here is awful!" He -grabbed a protruding nail and checked himself. -"Price might 'a' shot a 'Pache, or he might -not. I don't take him serious no more. An' -that feller Cassidy can't help what scared folks -tells him. Sufferin' </span><em class="italics">toads</em><span>, what a roof!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carter turned and looked back in the store. -"Jimmy, you shore they are out? An' </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> you -quit cuttin' that counter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy slid off the counter and closed the -knife. "That's what th' Pawnee said. When -I told you fellers about it, you was so plumb -anxious to fight, an' eager to interrupt an' ask -fool questions that I shore hated to spoil it all. -What that scout says was that th' 'Paches was -out raidin' down Colby way, an' was headin' -south when last re—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Colby</em><span>!" yelled Lefty Dawson, as the others -stared foolishly. "</span><em class="italics">Colby</em><span>! Why, that's three -hundred miles south of here! An' you let us -make fools of ourselves for </span><em class="italics">three</em><span> days! I 'll bust -you open!" and he arose to carry out his threat. -"Where 'd you git them trophies?" shouted Dad -angrily. "Them was genuine!" Jimmy slipped -through the door as Dawson leaped and he fled -at top speed to the corral, mounted in one bound -and dashed off a short distance. "Why, I got -them trophies in a poker game from that same -Pawnee scout, you Mosshead! He could n't play -th' game no better 'n you fellers. An' th' blood -is snake's blood, fresh put on. You </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> drive -me out of town, hey?" he jeered, and, wheeling, -forthwith rode for his life. Back in the store -Bill knocked aside the rifle barrel that Carter -shoved through a loop hole. "A joke 's a joke, -Carter," he said sternly. "You don't aim to -hit him, but you might," and Carter, surprised at -the strength of the twist, grinned, muttered -something and went to the door without his rifle, which -Bill suddenly recognized. It was the weapon -that had made up Jimmy's "trophies"!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blame his hide!" spluttered Lefty, not -knowing whether to shoot or laugh. A queer noise -behind him made him turn, a movement imitated -by the rest. They saw Bill rolling over and over -on the floor in an agony of mirth. One by one -the enraged garrison caught the infection and one -by one lay down on the floor and wept. Lefty, -propping himself against the sugar barrel, -swayed to and fro, senselessly gasping. "They -</span><em class="italics">allus</em><span> are raidin' down Colby way! Blame my -hide, </span><em class="italics">oh</em><span>, blame my hide! Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha! -They </span><em class="italics">allus</em><span> are raidin' down </span><em class="italics">Colby</em><span> way!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three days, an' Hank </span><em class="italics">on</em><span> th' roof!" gurgled -George Bruce. "</span><em class="italics">Three</em><span> days, by Scott!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hank on th' roof," sobbed Carter, "settin' -on splinters an hot rosim! Whee-hee-hee! -Three-hee-hee days hatchin' pine knots an' -rosim!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gimme a drink! Gimme a drink!" whispered -Dad, doubled up in a corner. "Gimme a -ho-ho-ho!" he roared in a fresh paroxysm of -mirth. "Lefty an' George settin' up nights -watchin' th' shadders! Ho-ho-ho!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' Carter boardin' us </span><em class="italics">free</em><span>!" yelled Baldy; -Martin. "Oh, my G—d! He'll never get over it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yessir!" squeaked Dad. "</span><em class="italics">Free</em><span>; an' scared -we 'd let 'em burn his store. 'Better stand 'em -off in my place,' he says. 'It's full of grub,' he -says. He-he-he!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' did you see Hank squattin' on th' roof -like a horned toad waitin' for his dinner?" -shouted Dickinson. "I'm goin' to die! I'm -goin' to die!" he sobbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No sich luck!" snorted Hank belligerently. -"I 'll skin him alive! Yessir; </span><em class="italics">alive</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carter paused in his calculations of his loss in -food and tobacco. "Better let him alone, Hank," -he warned earnestly. "Anyhow, we pestered -him nigh to death las' time, an' he 's shore come -back at us. Better let him alone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up the street Jimmy stood beside his horse -and thumped and scratched the yellow dog until -its rolling eyes bespoke a bliss unutterable and -its tail could not wag because of sheer ecstasy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Purp," he said gravely, "never play jokes on -a pore unfortunate an' git careless. Don't never -forget it. Last time I was here they abused me -shameful. Now that th' storm has busted an' -this is gettin' calm-like, you an' me 'll go back -an' get a good look at th' asylum," he suggested, -vaulting into the saddle and starting toward the -store. No invitation was needed because the -dog had adopted him on the spot. And the next -morning, when Jimmy and Bill, loaded with -poker-gained wealth, rode out of town and -headed south, the dog trotted along in the shadow -made by Jimmy's horse and glanced up from -time to time in hopeful expectancy and great -affection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A distant, flat pistol shot made them turn -around in the saddle and look back. A group -of the leading citizens of Sharpsville stood in -front of the Emporium and waved hats in one -last, and glad farewell. Now that Jimmy had -left town, they altered their sudden plans and -decided to continue to populate the town of -Sharpsville.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-luck-of-fools"><span class="large">V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">THE LUCK OF FOOLS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Did you ever see a dog like Asylum?" -demanded Jimmy, looking fondly at the -mongrel as they rode slowly the second day -after leaving Sharpsville.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill shook his head emphatically. "Never, -nowheres."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy turned reproachfully. "Lookit how -he 's follered us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Follered </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>," hastily corrected Bill. "He -ought to. You feed an' scratch him, an' he 'll -go anywhere for that. But he 's big," he conceded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mostly wolf-hound," guessed Jimmy, proudly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He looks like a wolf—God help it—at th' -end of a hard winter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he ain't yourn!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' won't be, not if I can help it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He ain't no good, is he?" sneered Jimmy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wouldn't say that, Kid," grunted Bill. -"You know there 's good </span><em class="italics">Injuns</em><span>; but he looks -purty healthy right now. Why did n't you call -him Hank? They look—Good G—d!" he -exclaimed as he glanced through an opening in the -hills. The ring of ashes that had been a corral -still smoldered, and smoke arose fitfully from the -caved-in roof of the adobe bunkhouse, whose -beams, weakened by fire, had fallen under their -heavy load.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Injuns!" whispered Jimmy. "Not gone -long, neither. Mebby they ain't all—ain't all—" -he faltered, thinking of what might lie under the -roof. Bill, nodding, rode hurriedly to the ruins, -wheeled sharply and returned, shaking his head -slowly. There was no need to explain Apache -methods to his companion, and he spoke of the -Indians instead. "They split. About a dozen -in th' big party an' about eight in th' other. It -looks sorta serious, Kid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy nodded. "I reckon so. An' they 're -usually where nobody wants 'em, anyhow. -Would n't Sharpsville be disgusted if they went -north? But let's get out of here, 'less you got -some plan to bag a couple."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like you more all th' time," Bill smiled. -"But I ain't got no plan, except to move."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, if they ain't funny," muttered Jimmy. -"If they only knowed what they was runnin' into!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill turned in surprise. "I reckon I 'm easy, -but I 'll bite: what are they runnin' into?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mean th' Injuns; I mean that wagon," -replied Jimmy, nodding to a canvas-covered -"schooner" on the opposite hill. "Come here, -'Sylum!" he thundered. Bill wheeled, and -smothered a curse when he saw the woman. -"Fools!" he snarled. "Don't let </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> know," and -he was galloping toward the newcomers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They shore is innercent," soliloquized Jimmy, -following. "Just like a baby chasin' a rattler -for to play with it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill drew rein at the wagon and removed his -sombrero. "Howd'y," he said. "Where you -headin' for?" he asked pleasantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tom French shifted the reins. "Sharpsville. -And where in—thunder—is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His brother stuck his head out through the -opening in the canvas. "Yes; where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, we are lost," explained the woman, -glancing from Bill to Jimmy, whose spectacular -sliding stop was purely for her benefit, though -she knew it not. "We left Logan four days ago -and have been wandering about ever since."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you ain't a-goin' to wander no more, -ma'am," smiled Bill. "We 're goin' to Logan -an' we 'll take you as far as th' Logan-Sharpsville -trail," he said, wondering where it was. -"You must 'a' crossed it without knowin' it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, thank goodness, everything is all right. -We are very fortunate in having met you gentlemen -and we will be very grateful to you," she smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You bet!" exclaimed Tom. "But where is -Sharpsville?" he persisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sixty miles north," replied Jimmy, making -a great effort to stop with the reins what he was -causing with his shielded spur. His horse could -cavort beautifully under persuasion. "Logan, -ma'am," he said, indifferent to the antics of his -horse, "is about thirty miles east. You must 'a' -sashayed some to get only this far in four days," -he grinned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And we would be 'sashaying' yet, if I had n't -found this trail," grunted Tom. There was a -sudden disturbance behind his shoulder and the -canvas was opened wider. "</span><em class="italics">You</em><span> found it!" -snorted George. "You mean, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> found it. -Leave it to Mollie if I did n't! And I told you -that you were going wrong. Didn't I?" he demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush, George," chided his sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But </span><em class="italics">did n't</em><span> I? Did n't I say we should have -followed that moth-eaten road running—er—north?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you?" shouted Tom, turning savagely. -"You told me so many fool things I couldn't -pick out those having a flicker of intelligence -hovering around their outer edges. </span><em class="italics">You</em><span> drove -two days out of the four, did n't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tom!" pleaded Mollie, earnestly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, let him rave, Sis," rejoined George, and -he turned to the punchers. "Friends, I beg thee -to take charge of this itinerant asylum and its -charming nurse, for the good of our being and -the salvation of our souls. Amen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tom found a weak grin. "Yes, so be it. We -place ourselves and guide under your orders, -though I reserve the right to beat him to a -pleasing pulp when he gets sober enough to feel it. -At present he reclines ungracefully within."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean you got a drunk guide, in there?" -demanded Bill angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He feels the yearning right away," observed -George. "We 'll have to take turns thrashing -Bacchus, I fear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long's he been that way?" demanded Bill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have n't known him long enough to answer -that," responded Tom. "I doubt if he were ever -really sober. He is a peripatetic distillery and -I believe he lived on blotters even as a child. -The first day—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"—hour," inserted George.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"—he became anxious about the condition of -the rear axle and examined it so frequently that -by night he had slipped back into the Stone -Age—he was ossified and petrified. He could -neither see, eat nor talk. Strange creatures -peopled his imagination. He shot at one before we -could get his gun away from him, and it was our -best skillet. How the devil he could hit it is more -than I know. At this moment he may be fleeing -from green tigers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beg pardon," murmured George. "At this -moment I have my foot on his large, unwashed face."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, George! You'll hurt him!" gasped Mollie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No such luck. He 's beyond feeling."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you will! It isn't right to—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't bother your head about him, Sis," -interrupted Tom, savagely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," grinned George. "Save your sympathy -until he gets sober. He'll need some then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, George, there is no use of having an -argument," she retorted, turning to face him. -And as she turned Bill took quick advantage. -One finger slipped around his scalp and ended in -a jerky, lifting motion that was horribly -suggestive. His other hand and arm swept back and -around, the gesture taking in the hills; and at the -same time he nodded emphatically toward the -rear of the wagon, where Jimmy was slowly -going. Across the faces of the brothers there -flashed in quick succession mystification, -apprehensive doubt, fear and again doubt. But a -sudden backward jerk of Bill's head made them -glance at the ruined 'dobe and the doubt melted -into fear, and remained. George was the first to -reply and he spoke to his sister. "As long as -you fear for his facial beauty, Sis, I 'll look for -a better place for my foot," and he disappeared -behind the drooping canvas. Jimmy's words -were powerful, if terse, and George returned to -the seat a very thoughtful man. He took -instant advantage of his sister's conversation with -Bill and whispered hurriedly into his brother's -ear. A faint furrow showed momentarily on -Tom's forehead, but swiftly disappeared, and he -calmly filled his pipe as he replied. "Oh, he 'll -sober up," he said. "We poured the last of it -out. And I have a great deal of confidence in -these two gentlemen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill smiled as he answered Mollie's question. -"Yes, we did have a bad fire," he said. "It -plumb burned us out, ma'am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But </span><em class="italics">how</em><span> did it happen?" she insisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes; how did it happen—I mean it -happened like this, ma'am," he floundered. "You -see, I—that is, </span><em class="italics">we—we</em><span> had some trouble, ma'am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I surmised," she pleasantly replied. "I -presume it was a fire, was it not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill squirmed at the sarcasm and hesitated, but -he was saved by Jimmy, who turned the corner -of the wagon and swung into the breach with -promptness and assurance. "We fired a Greaser -yesterday," he explained. "An' last night th' -Greaser slipped back an' fired us. He got away, -this time, ma'am; but we 're shore comin' back -for him, all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But is n't he far away by this time?" she asked -in surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Greasers, ma'am, is funny animals. I could -tell you lots of funny things about 'em, if I had -time. This particular coyote is nervy an' -graspin'. I reckon he was a heap disappointed -when he found we got out alive, an' I reckon -he 's in these hills waitin' for us to go to Logan -for supplies. When we do he 'll round up th' -cows an' run 'em off. Savvy? I means, -understand?" he hurriedly explained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why don't you hunt him now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy shook his head hopelessly. "You just -don't understand Greasers, ma'am," he asserted, -and looked around. "Does she?" he demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a chorus of negatives, and he -continued. "You see, he's plannin' to steal our cows."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what he 's doin'," cheerfully assented Bill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe you said that before," smiled Mollie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha!" laughed Bill. "He shore did!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I did!" snapped Jimmy, glaring at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, for goodness' sake, are you going away -and let him do it?" demanded Mollie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy grinned easily, and drawled effectively. -"We 're aimin' to stop him, ma'am. You see," -he half whispered, whereat Bill leaned forward -eagerly to learn the facts. "He won't show -hisself an' we can't track him in th' hills without -gettin' picked off at long range. It would be -us that 'd have to do th' movin', an' that ain't -healthy in rough country. So we starts to -Logan, but circles back an' gets him when he 's -plumb wrapped up in them cows he 's honin' for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it," asserted Bill, promptly and -proudly. Jimmy was the smoothest liar he had -ever listened to. "An' th' plan is all Jimmy's, -too," he enthused, truthfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Doubtless it is quite brilliant," she responded, -"but I certainly wish </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> were that 'Greaser'!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sis!" exploded George, "I'm surprised!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well; you may remain so, if you wish. -But will someone tell me this: How can these -gentlemen take us to Logan if they are going -only part way and then returning after that -dense, but lucky, 'Greaser'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should 'a' told you, ma'am," replied Jimmy, -"that th' Logan-Sharpsville trail is about half -way. We 'll put you on it an' turn back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The strain was telling on Bill and he raised -his arm. "Sorry to cut off this interestin' -conversation, but I reckon we better move. Jimmy, -tie that wolf-hound to th' axle—it won't make -him drunk—an' then go ahead an' pick a new -trail to Logan. Keep north of th' other, an' -stay down from sky-lines. I 'll foller back -a ways. Get a-goin'," and he was obeyed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy rode a quarter of a mile in advance, -unjustly escaping the remarks that Mollie -was directing at him, her brothers, Bill, the dog -and the situation in general. A backward glance -as he left the wagon apprised him that the -dangers of scouting were to be taken thankfully. -He rode carelessly up the side of a hill and -glanced over the top, ducked quickly and backed -down with undignified haste. He fervently -endorsed Bill's wisdom in taking a different route -to Logan, for the Apaches certainly would strike -the other trail and follow hard; and to have run -into them would have been disastrous. He -approached the wagon leisurely, swept off his -sombrero and grinned. "Reckon you could hit any -game?" he inquired. The brothers nodded -glumly. "Well, get yore guns handy." There -was really no need for the order. "There 's lots -of it, an' fresh meat 'll come in good. Don't -shoot till I says so," he warned, earnestly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O.K., Hawkeye," replied Tom coolly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We 'll wait for the whites of their eyes, </span><em class="italics">à la -Bunker Hill</em><span>," replied George, uneasily, "before -we wipe out the game of this large section of -God's accusing and forgotten wilderness. Any -</span><em class="italics">big</em><span> game loose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy nodded emphatically. "You bet! I -just saw a bunch of copperhead snakes that 'd -give you chills." The tones were very suggestive -and George stroked his rifle nervously and felt -little drops of cold water trickle from his -armpits. Mollie instinctively drew her skirts tighter -around her and placed her feet on the edge of -the wagon box under the seat. "They can't -climb into the wagon, can they?" she asked apprehensively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, ma'am," reassured Jimmy. "Anyhow, -th' dog will keep them away." He turned -to the brothers. "I ain't shore about th' way, so -I 'm goin' to see Bill. Wait till I come back," -and he was gone. Tom gripped the reins more -firmly and waited. Nothing short of an -earthquake would move that wagon until he had been -told to drive on. George searched the surrounding -country with anxious eyes while his sister -gazed fascinatedly at the ground close to the -wagon. She suddenly had remembered that the -dog was tied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill drummed past, waving his arm, and swept -out of sight around a bend, the wagon lurching -and rocking after him. Out of the little valley -and across a rocky plateau, down into an arroyo -and up its steep, further bank went the wagon -at an angle that forced a scream from Mollie. -The dog, having broken loose, ran with it, eyeing -it suspiciously from time to time. Jeff Purdy, -the oblivious guide, slid swiftly from the front of -the wagon box and stopped suddenly with a -thump against the tailboard. George, playing -rear guard, managed to hold on and then with a -sigh of relief sat upon the guide and jammed his -feet against the corners of the box.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So he—went back for—his friend to—find -the way!" gasped Mollie in jerks. "What a -pity—he did—it. I could—do better myself. I 'm -being jolted—into a thousand—pieces!" Her -hair, loosening more with each jolt, uncoiled and -streamed behind her in a glorious flame of gold. -Suddenly the wagon stopped so quickly that she -gasped in dismay and almost left the seat. Then -she screamed and jumped for the dashboard. -But it was only Mr. Purdy sliding back again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before them was the perpendicular wall of a -mesa and another lay several hundred yards -away. Bill, careful of where he walked, led the -horses past a bowlder until the seat was even with -it. "Step on nothing but rock," he quietly -ordered, and had lifted Mollie in his arms before -she knew it. Despite her protests he swiftly -carried her to the wall and then slowly up its -scored face to a ledge that lay half way to the -top. Back of the ledge was a horizontal fissure -that was almost screened from the sight of -anyone below. Gaining the cave, he lowered -her gently to the floor and stood up. "Do not -move," he ordered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her face was crimson, streaked with white -lanes of anger and her eyes snapped. "What -does this mean?" she demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her a moment, considering. -"Ma'am, I was n't goin' to tell you till I had to. -But it don't make no difference now. It's -Injuns, close after us. Don't show yoreself."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 82%" id="figure-58"> -<span id="it-s-injuns-close-after-us"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""It's Injuns, close after us"" src="images/img-133.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"It's Injuns, close after us"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>She regarded him calmly. "I beg your pardon—if -I had only known—is there great danger?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded. "If you show yoreself. There's -allus danger with Injuns, ma'am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pushed the hair back from her face. "My -brothers? Are they coming up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her courage set him afire with rage for the -Apaches, but he replied calmly. "Yes. Mebby -th' Injuns won't know yo 're here, Ma'am. Me -an' Jimmy 'll try to lead 'em past. Just lay low -an' don't make no noise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes glowed suddenly as she realized what -he would try to do. "But yourself, and Jimmy? -Would n't it be better to stay up here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yo 're a thoroughbred, ma'am," he replied in -a low voice. "Me an' Jimmy has staked our lives -more 'n onct out of pure devilment, with nothin' -to gain. I reckon we got a reason this time, th' -best we ever had. I 'm most proud, ma'am, to -play my cards as I get them." He bent swiftly -and touched her head, and was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meeting the brothers as they toiled up with -supplies, he gave them a few terse orders and -went on. Taking a handful of sand from behind -a bowlder and scattering it with judicious care, -he climbed to the wagon seat and waited, glancing -back at the faint line that marked the arroyo's -rim. In a few minutes a figure popped over it -and whirled toward him in a high-flung, swirling -cloud of dust. Overtaking the lurching wagon, -Jimmy shouted a query and kept on, his pony -picking its way with the agility and certainty of -a mountain cat. The wagon, lurching this way -and that, first on the wheels of one side and then -on those of the other, bouncing and jumping at -such speed that it was a miracle it was not -smashed to splinters, careened after the hard-riding -horseman. A rifle bounced over the tailboard, -followed swiftly by a box of cartridges and -an ebony-backed mirror, which settled on its back -and glared into the sky like an angry Cyclops.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Purdy, bruised from head to foot and -rapidly getting sober, emitted language in jerks -and grabbed at the tailboard as the wagon box -dropped two feet, leaving him in the air. But it -met him half way and jolted him almost to the -canvas top. He slid against the side and then -jammed against the tailboard again and reached -for it in desperation. Another drop in the trail -made him miss it, and as the wagon arose again -like a steel spring Mr. Purdy, wondering what -caused all the earthquakes, arose on his hands and -knees in the dust and spat angrily after the -careening vehicle. He scrambled unsteadily to his -feet and shook eager fists after the four-wheeled -jumping-jack, and gave the Recording Angel -great anguish of mind and writer's cramp. -Pausing as he caught sight of the objects on the -ground, he stared at them thoughtfully. He had -seen many things during the past few days and -was not to be fooled again. He looked at the -sky, and back to the rifle. Then he examined -the mesa wall, and quickly looked back at the -weapon. It was still there and had not moved. -He closed his eyes and opened them suddenly and -grunted. "Huh, bet a ten spot it's real." He -approached it cautiously, ready to pounce on it -if it moved, but it did not and he picked it up. -Seeing the cartridges, he secured them and then -gasped with fear at the glaring mirror. After a -moment's thought he grabbed at it and put it in -his pocket just before a sudden, swirling cloud -of dust drove him, choking and gasping, to seek -the shelter of the bowlders close to the wall. -When he raised his head again and looked out -he caught sight of a sudden movement in -the open, and promptly ducked, and swore. -Apaches! Twelve of them!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had seen strange things during the last few -days, and just because the rifle and other objects -had turned out to be real was no reason that he -should absolutely trust his eyes in this particular -instance. There was a limit, which in this case -was Apaches in full war dress; so he arose -swaggeringly and fired at the last, and saw the third -from the last slide limply from his horse. As -the rest paused and half of them wheeled and -started back he rubbed his eyes in amazement, -damned himself for a fool and sprinted for -the mesa wall, up which he climbed with the -frantic speed of fear. He was favored by -the proverbial luck of fools and squirmed over -a wide ledge without being hit. There was but -one way to get him and he knew he could pick -them off as fast as they showed above the rim. -He rolled over and a look of mystification crept -across his face. Digging into his pockets to see -what the bumps were, he produced the mirror and -a flask. The former he placed carelessly against -the wall and the latter he raised hastily to his lips. -The mirror glared out over the plain, its rays -constantly interrupted by Mr. Purdy's cautious -movements as he settled himself more comfortably -for defense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A bullet screamed up the face of the wall and -he flattened, intently watching the rim. Chancing -to glance over the plain, he noticed that the -wagon was still moving, but slowly, while far to -the south two horsemen galloped back toward the -mesa on a wide circle, six Apaches tearing to -intercept them before they could gain cover. "I -was shore wise to leave th' schooner," he grinned. -"I allus know when to jump," he said, and then -swung the rifle toward the rim as a faint sound -reached his ears. Its smoke blotted out the -piercing black eyes that looked for an instant -over the edge and found eternity, and Mr. Purdy -grinned when the sound of impact floated up -from below. "They won't try that no more," he -grunted, and forthwith dozed in a drunken -stupor. A sober man might have been tempted -to try a shot over the rim, and would have been -dead before he could have pulled the trigger. -Mr. Purdy was again favored by luck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Leaving two braves to watch him, the other -two searched for a better way up the wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The race over the plain was interesting but not -deadly or very dangerous for Bill and Jimmy. -Armed with Winchesters and wornout Spencer -carbines and not able to get close to the two -punchers, the Apaches did no harm, and suffered -because of Mr. Cassidy's use of a new, long-range -Sharps. "You allus want to keep Injuns on -long range, Kid," Bill remarked as another fell -from its horse. The shot was a lucky one, but -just as effective. "They ain't worth a d—n -figurin' windage an' th' drift of a fast-movin' -target, 'specially when it's goin' over ground like -this. It's a white man's weapon, Jimmy. -Them repeaters ain't no good for over five -hundred; they don't use enough powder. An' I -reckon them Spencers was wore out long ago. -They ain't even shootin' close." He whirled past -the projecting spur of the mesa and leaped from -his horse, Jimmy following quickly. Three -hundred yards down the canyon two Apaches -showed themselves for a moment as they squirmed -around a projection high up on the wall and not -more than ten feet below the ledge. The expressions -which they carried into eternity were those -of great surprise. The two who kept Mr. Purdy -treed on his ledge saw their friends fall, and -squirmed swiftly toward their horses. It could -only be cowpunchers entering the canyon at the -other end and they preferred the company of -their friends until they could determine numbers. -When half way to the animals they changed their -minds and crept toward the scene of action. -Mr. Purdy, feeling for his flask, knocked it over the -ledge and looked over after it in angry dismay. -Then he shouted and pointed down. Bill and -Jimmy stared for a moment, nodded emphatically, -and separated hastily. Mr. Purdy ducked -and hugged the ledge with renewed affection. -Glancing around, he was almost blinded -by the mirror and threw it angrily into the -canyon, and then rubbed his eyes again. Far away -on the plain was a moving blot which he believed -to be horsemen. He fired his rifle into the air -on a chance and turned again to the events taking -place close at hand. "Other way, Hombre!" he -warned, and Jimmy, obeying, came upon the -Apache from the rear, and saved Bill's life. At -hide and seek among rocks the Apache has no -equal, but here they did not have a chance with -Mr. Purdy calling the moves in a language they -did not well understand. A bird's-eye view is a -distinct asset and Mr. Purdy was playing his -novel game with delighted interest and a -plainsman's instinct. Consumed with rage, the -remaining Indian whirled around and sent the -guide reeling against the wall and then down in a -limp heap. But Bill paid the debt and continued -to worm among the rocks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a sudden report to the westward and -Jimmy staggered and dived behind a bowlder. -The other four, having discovered the trick that -had been played upon them on the other side of -the mesa, were anxious to pay for it. Bill -hurriedly crawled to Jimmy's side as the youth -brushed the blood out of his eyes and picked up -his rifle. "It's th' others, Kid," said Bill. "An' -they 're gettin' close. Don't move an inch, for -this is their game." A roar above him made -him glance upward and swear angrily. "Now -they 've gone an' done it! After all we 've done -to hide 'em!" Another shot from the ledge and -a hot, answering fire broke out from below. "My -G—d!" said a voice, weakly. Bill shook his -head. "That was Tom," he muttered. "Come -on, Kid," he growled. "We got to drive 'em out, -d—n it!" They were too interested in picking -their way in the direction of the Apaches to -glance at Mr. Purdy's elevated perch or they -would have seen him on his knees at the very -edge making frantic motions with his one good -arm. He was facing the east and the plain. -Beaming with joy, he waved his arm toward Bill -and Jimmy, shouted instructions in a weak voice, -that barely carried to the canyon floor, and -collapsed, his duty done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill was surprised fifteen minutes later to hear -strange voices calling to him from the rear and -he turned like a flash, his Colt swinging first. -"Well, I 'm d—d!" he ejaculated. Four punchers -were crawling toward him. "Glad to see -you," he said, foolishly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I reckon so," came the smiling reply. "That -lookin' glass of yourn shore bothered us. We -could n't read it, but we did n't have to. Where -are they?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Plumb ahead, som'ers. Four of 'em," Bill -replied. "There 's two tender feet up on that -ledge, with their sister. We was gettin' plumb -worried for 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not them as hired Whiskey Jeff for to guide -'em?" asked Dickinson, the leader.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Th' same. But how 'n h—l did Logan ever -come to let 'em start?" demanded Bill, angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We did n't pay no attention to th' rumors that -has been flyin' around for th' last two months. -Nobody had seen no signs of 'em," answered the -Logan man. "We did n't reckon there was no -danger till last night, when we learned they -had n't showed up in Sharpsville, nor been seen -anywheres near th' trail. Then we remembers -Jeff's habits, an', while we debates it, we gets -word that th' Injuns was seen north of Cook's -ranch yesterday. We moves sudden. Here -comes th' boys back—I reckon th' job 's done. -They 're a fine crowd, a'right. You should 'a' -seen 'em cut loose an' raise th' dust when we saw -that lookin' glass a-winkin'. We could n't read -it none, but we didn't have to. We just cut loose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lookin' glass!" exclaimed Bill, staring. -"That's twice you 've mentioned it. What -glass? We didn't have no lookin' glass, nohow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Whiskey Jeff had one, a'right. An' -he shore keeps her a-talkin', too. Ain't it a -cussed funny thing that a feller that's got a -hardboiled face like his'n would go an' tote a lookin' -glass around with him? We never done reckoned -he was that vain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill shook his head and gave it up. He -glanced above him at the ledge and started for it -as Jimmy pushed up to him through the little -crowd. "Hello, Kid," Bill smiled. "Come on up -an' help me get her down," he invited. Jimmy -shook his head and refused. "Ah, what's th' use? -She 'll only gimme h—l for handin' her that -blamed Greaser lie," he snapped. "An' you can -do it alone—didn't you tote her up th' cussed -wall?" It had been a long-range view, but -Jimmy had seen it, just the same, and resented it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill turned and looked at him. "Well, I 'm -cussed!" he muttered, and forthwith climbed the -wall. A few minutes later he stuck his head over -the rim of the ledge and looked down upon a -good-natured crowd that lounged in the shadow -of the wall and told each other all about it. -Jimmy was the important center of interest and -he was flushed with pride. It would take a great -deal to make him cut short his hour of triumph -and take him away from the admiring circle that -hedged him in and listened intently to his words. -"Yessir, by G—d," he was saying, "just then -I looks over th' top of a li'l hill an' what I sees -makes me duck a-plenty. There was a dozen of -'em, stringin' south. I knowed they 'd shore hit -that—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hey, Kid," said a humorous voice from above. -Jimmy glanced up, vexed at the interruption. -"Well, what?" he growled. Bill grinned down -at him in a manner that bid fair to destroy the -dignity that Jimmy had striven so hard to build -up. "She says all right for you. She 's done -let you down easy for that whoppin' big Greaser -lie you went an' spun her. She wants to know -ain't you comin' up so she can talk to you? How -about it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on, Kid," urged a low and friendly voice -at his elbow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betcha!" grinned another. "Wish it was -me! I done seen her in Logan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy loosed a throbbing phrase, but obeyed, -whereat Bill withdrew his grinning face from the -sight of the grinning faces below. "He 's comin' -ma'am; but he's shore plumb bashful." He -looked down the canyon and laughed. "There -they go to get Purdy off 'n his perch. I 'm -natchurally goin' to lick anybody as tries to thrash -that man," he muttered, glancing at George as he -passed Jimmy on the ledge. George grinned -and shook his head. "I 'm going to give him the -spree of his sinful, long life," he promised, -thoughtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Far to the west, silhouetted for a moment -against the crimson sunset, appeared a row of -mounted figures. It looked long and searchingly -at the mesa and slowly disappeared from view. -Bill saw it and pointed it out to Lefty Dickinson. -"There 's th' other eight," he said, smiling -cheerfully. "If it was n't for Whiskey Jeff's lookin' -glass that eight 'd mean a whole lot to us. -We 've had the luck of fools!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="hopalong-s-hop"><span class="large">VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">HOPALONG'S HOP</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Having sent Jimmy to the Bar-20 with a -message for Buck Peters and seen the -tenderfeet start for Sharpsville on the right trail -and under escort, Bill Cassidy set out for the -Crazy M ranch, by the way of Clay Gulch. He -was to report on the condition of some cattle that -Buck had been offered cheap and he was anxious -to get back to the ranch. It was in the early -evening when he reached Clay Gulch and rode -slowly down the dusty, shack-lined street in search -of a hotel. The town and the street were hardly -different from other towns and streets that he -had seen all over the cow-country, but nevertheless -he felt uneasy. The air seemed to be charged -with danger, and it caused him to sit even more -erect in the saddle and assume his habit of -indifferent alertness. The first man he saw -confirmed the feeling by staring at him insolently -and sneering in a veiled way at the low-hung, -tied-down holsters that graced Bill's thighs. -The guns proclaimed the gun-man as surely as it -would have been proclaimed by a sign; and it -appeared that gun-men were not at that time held -in high esteem by the citizens of Clay Gulch. -Bill was growing fretful and peevish when the -man, with a knowing shake of his head, turned -away and entered the harness shop. "Trouble's -brewin' somewheres around," muttered Bill, as -he went on. He had singled out the first of two -hotels when another citizen, turning the corner, -stopped in his tracks and looked Bill over with a -deliberate scrutiny that left but little to the -imagination. He frowned and started away, but Bill -spurred forward, determined to make him speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Might</em><span> I inquire if this is Clay Gulch?" he -asked, in tones that made the other wince.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might," was the reply. "It is," added -the citizen, "an' th' Crazy M lays fifteen mile -west." Having complied with the requirements -of common politeness the citizen of Clay Gulch -turned and walked into the nearest saloon. Bill -squinted after him and shook his head in indecision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He wasn't guessin', neither. He shore -knowed where I wants to go. I reckon Oleson -must 'a' said he was expectin' me." He would -have been somewhat surprised had he known that -Mr. Oleson, foreman of the Crazy M, had said -nothing to anyone about the expected visitor, and -that no one, not even on the ranch, knew of it. -Mr. Oleson was blessed with taciturnity to a -remarkable degree; and he had given up expecting -to see anyone from Mr. Peters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Bill dismounted in front of the "Victoria" -he noticed that two men further down the street -had evidently changed their conversation and -were examining him with frank interest and -discussing him earnestly. As a matter of fact they -had not changed the subject of their conversation, -but had simply fitted him in the place of a certain -unknown. Before he had arrived they discussed -in the abstract; now they could talk in the -concrete. One of them laughed and called softly -over his shoulder, whereupon a third man -appeared in the door, wiping his lips with the back -of a hairy, grimy hand, and focused evil eyes -upon the innocent stranger. He grunted -contemptuously and, turning on his heel, went back -to his liquid pleasures. Bill covertly felt of his -clothes and stole a glance at his horse, but could -see nothing wrong. He hesitated: should he -saunter over for information or wait until the -matter was brought to his attention? A sound -inside the hotel made him choose the latter course, -for his stomach threatened to become estranged -and it simply howled for food. Pushing open -the door he dropped his saddle in a corner and -leaned against the bar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have one with me to get acquainted?" he -invited. "Then I 'll eat, for I 'm hungry. An' -I 'll use one of yore beds to-night, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man behind the bar nodded cheerfully and -poured out his drink. As he raised the liquor he -noticed Bill's guns and carelessly let the glass -return to the bar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sorry, sir," he said coldly. "I 'm hall out of -grub, the fire 's hout, </span><em class="italics">hand</em><span> the beds are taken. -But mebby 'Awley, down the strite, can tyke care -of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill was looking at him with an expression that -said much and he slowly extended his arm and -pointed to the untasted liquor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allus finish what you start, English," he said -slowly and clearly. "When a man goes to take -a drink with me, and suddenly changes his mind, -why I gets riled. I don't know what ails this -town, an' I don't care; I don't give a cuss about -yore grub an' your beds; but if you don't drink -that liquor you poured out </span><em class="italics">to</em><span> drink, why I 'll -natchurally shove it down yore British throat so -cussed hard it 'll strain yore neck. Get to it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The proprietor glanced apprehensively from -the glass to Bill, then on to the business-like guns -and back to the glass, and the liquor disappeared -at a gulp. "W'y," he explained, aggrieved. -"There hain't no call for to get riled hup like that, -strainger. I bloody well forgot it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then don't you go an' 'bloody well' forget -this: Th' next time I drops in here for grub an' a -bed, you have 'em both, an' be plumb polite about -it. Do you get me?" he demanded icily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The proprietor stared at the angry puncher as -he gathered up his saddle and rifle and started -for the door. He turned to put away the bottle -and the sound came near being unfortunate for -him. Bill leaped sideways, turning while in the -air and landed on his feet like a cat, his left hand -gripping a heavy Colt that covered the short ribs -of the frightened proprietor before that worthy -could hardly realize the move.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, all right," growled Bill, appearing to be -disappointed. "I reckoned mebby you was -gamblin' on a shore thing. I feels impelled to -offer you my sincere apology; you ain't th' kind -as would even gamble </span><em class="italics">on</em><span> a shore thing. You 'll -see me again," he promised. The sound of his -steps on the porch ended in a thud as he leaped to -the ground and then he passed the window -leading his horse and scowling darkly. The -proprietor mopped his head and reached twice for -the glass before he found it. "Gawd, what a -bloody 'eathen," he grunted. "</span><em class="italics">'E</em><span> won't be as -easy as the lawst was, blime 'im."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hawley looked up and frowned, but there -was something in the suspicious eyes that -searched his face that made him cautious. Bill -dropped his load on the floor and spoke sharply. -"I want supper an' a bed. You ain't full up, an' -you ain't out of grub. So I 'm goin' to get 'em -both right here. Yes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You shore called th' turn, stranger," replied -Mr. Hawley in his Sunday voice. "That's what -I 'm in business for. An' business is shore dull -these days."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wondered at the sudden smile that illuminated -Bill's face and half guessed it; but he said -nothing and went to work. When Bill pushed -back from the table he was more at peace with the -world and he treated, closely watching his -companion. Mr. Hawley drank with a show of -pleasure and forthwith brought out cigars. He -seated himself beside his guest and sighed with relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm plumb tired out," he offered. "An' I -ain't done much. You look tired, too. Come a -long way?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Logan," replied Bill. "Do </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> know where -I 'm goin'? An' why?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hawley looked surprised and almost -answered the first part of the question correctly -before he thought. "Well," he grinned, "if I -could tell where strangers was goin', an' why, I -would n't never ask 'em where they come from. -An' I 'd shore hunt up a li'l game of faro, you bet!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill smiled. "Well, that might be a good idea. -But, say, what ails this town, anyhow?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What ails it? Hum! Why, lack of money -for one thing; scenery, for another; wimmin, for -another. Oh, h—l, I ain't got time to tell you -what ails it. Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there anything th' matter with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know you well enough for to answer -that kerrect."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, would you turn around an' stare at me, -an' seem pained an' hurt? Do I look funny? -Has anybody put a sign on my back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You looks all right to me. What's th' matter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothin', yet," reflected Bill slowly. "But -there will be, mebby. You was mentionin' faro. -Here 's a turn you can call: somebody in this wart -of a two-by-nothin' town is goin' to run plumb -into a big surprise. There 'll mebby be a loud -noise an' some smoke where it starts from; an' a -li'l round hole where it stops. When th' curious -delegation now holdin' forth on th' street slips in -here after I 'm in bed, an' makes inquiries about -me, you can tell 'em that. An' if Mr.—Mr. Victoria -drops in casual, tell him I 'm cleanin' my -guns. Now then, show me where I 'm goin' to sleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hawley very carefully led the way into -the hall and turned into a room opposite the bar. -"Here she is, stranger," he said, stepping back. -But Bill was out in the hall listening. He looked -into the room and felt oppressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No she ain't," he answered, backing his -intuition. "She is upstairs, where there is a li'l -breeze. By th' Lord," he muttered under his -breath. "This is some puzzle." He mounted -the stairs shaking his head thoughtfully. "It -shore is, it shore is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next morning when Bill whirled up to the -Crazy M bunkhouse and dismounted before the -door a puncher was emerging. He started to say -something, noticed Bill's guns and went on -without a word. Bill turned around and looked after -him in amazement. "Well, what th' devil!" he -growled. Before he could do anything, had he -wished to, Mr. Oleson stepped quickly from the -house, nodded and hurried toward the ranch -house, motioning for Bill to follow. Entering -the house, the foreman of the Crazy M waited -impatiently for Bill to get inside, and then -hurriedly closed the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They 've got onto it some way," he said, his -taciturnity gone; "but that don't make no -difference if you 've got th' sand. I 'll pay you one -hundred an' fifty a month, furnish yore cayuses -an' feed you. I 'm losin' more 'n two hundred -cows every month an' can't get a trace of th' -thieves. Harris, Marshal of Clay Gulch, is -stumped, too. </span><em class="italics">He</em><span> can't move without proof; -</span><em class="italics">you</em><span> can. Th' first man to get is George Thomas, -then his brother Art. By that time you 'll know -how things lay. George Thomas is keepin' out -of Harris' way. He killed a man last week over -in Tuxedo an' Harris wants to take him over -there. He 'll not help you, so don't ask him -to." Before Bill could reply or recover from his -astonishment Oleson continued and described -several men. "Look out for ambushes. It 'll be -th' hardest game you ever went up ag'in, an' if -you ain't got th' sand to go through with it, -say so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill shook his head. "I got th' sand to go -through with anythin' I starts, but I don't start -here. I reckon you got th' wrong man. I come -up here to look over a herd for Buck Peters; an' -here you go shovin' wages like that at me. When -I tells Buck what I 've been offered he 'll fall -dead." He laughed. "Now I knows th' answer -to a lot of things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, here!" he exclaimed as Oleson began to -rave. "Don't you go an' get all het up like that. -I reckon I can keep my face shut. An' lemme -observe in yore hat-like ear that if th' rest of this -gang is like th' samples I seen in town, a good -gun-man would shore be robbin' you to take all -that money for th' job. Fifty a month, for two -months, would be a-plenty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oleson's dismay was fading, and he accepted -the situation with a grim smile. "You don't -know them fellers," he replied. "They 're a bad -lot, an' won't stop at nothin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right. Let's take a look at them cows. -I want to get home soon as I can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oleson shook his head. "I gave you up, an' -when I got a better offer I let 'em go. I 'm sorry -you had th' ride for nothin', but I could n't get -word to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill led the way in silence back to the bunk -house and mounted his horse. "All right," he -nodded. "I shore was late. Well, I 'll be goin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That gun-man is late, too," said Oleson. -"Mebby he ain't comin'. You want th' job at -</span><em class="italics">my</em><span> figgers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nope. I got a better job, though it don't pay -so much money. It's steady, an' a hull lot -cleaner. So-long," and Bill loped away, closely -watched by Shorty Allen from the corral. And -after an interval, Shorty mounted and swung out -of the other gate of the corral and rode along the -bottom of an arroyo until he felt it was safe to -follow Bill's trail. When Shorty turned back he -was almost to town, and he would not have been -pleased had he known that Bill knew of the -trailing for the last ten miles. Bill had doubled back -and was within a hundred yards of Shorty when -that person turned ranchward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh! I must be popular," grunted Bill. "I -reckon I will stay in Clay Gulch till t'morrow -mornin'; an' at the Victoria," he grinned. Then -he laughed heartily. "Victoria! I got a better -name for it than that, all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he pulled up before the Victoria and -looked in the proprietor scowled at him, which -made Bill frown as he went on to Hawley's. -Putting his horse in the corral he carried his -saddle and rifle into the barroom and looked around. -There was no one in sight, and he smiled. Putting -the saddle and rifle back in one corner under -the bar and covering them with gunny sacks he -strolled to the Victoria and entered through the -rear door. The proprietor reached for his gun -but reconsidered in time and picked up a glass, -which he polished with exaggerated care. There -was something about the stranger that obtruded -upon his peace of mind and confidence. He -would let some one else try the stranger out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill walked slowly forward, by force of will -ironing out the humor in his face and assuming -his sternest expression. "I want supper an' a -bed, an' don't forget to be plumb polite," he -rumbled, sitting down by the side of a small table -in such a manner that it did not in the least -interfere with the movement of his right hand. The -observing proprietor observed and gave strict -attention to the preparation of the meal. The -gun-man, glancing around, slowly arose and -walked carelessly to a chair that had blank wall -behind it, and from where he could watch -windows and doors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the meal was placed before him he -glanced up. "Go over there an' sit down," he -ordered, motioning to a chair that stood close to -the rifle that leaned against the wall. "Loaded?" -he demanded. The proprietor could only nod. -"Then sling it acrost yore knees an' keep still. -Well, start movin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The proprietor walked as though he were in a -trance but when he seated himself and reached for -the weapon a sudden flash of understanding -illumined him and caused cold sweat to bead -upon his wrinkled brow. He put the weapon -down again, but the noise made Bill look up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Acrost yore knees," growled the puncher, and -the proprietor hastily obeyed, but when it touched -his legs he let loose of it as though it were hot. -He felt a great awe steal through his fear, for -here was a gun-man such as he had read about. -This man gave him all the best of it just to tempt -him to make a break. The rifle had been in his -hands, and while it was there the gun-man was -calmly eating with both hands on the table and -had not even looked up until the noise of the gun -made him!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My Gawd, 'e must be a wizard with 'em. I -'opes I don't forget!" With the thought came -a great itching of his kneecap; then his foot itched -so as to make him squirm and wear horrible -expressions. Bill, chancing to glance up carelessly, -caught sight of the expressions and growled, -whereupon they became angelic. Fearing that -he could no longer hold in the laughter that -tortured him, Bill arose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shoulder, </span><em class="italics">arms</em><span>!" he ordered, crisply. The -gun went up with trained precision. "Been a -sojer," thought Bill. "Carry, </span><em class="italics">arms</em><span>! About, -</span><em class="italics">face</em><span>! To a bedroom, </span><em class="italics">march</em><span>!" He followed, -holding his sides, and stopped before the room. -"This th' best?" he demanded. "Well, it ain't -good enough for me. About, </span><em class="italics">face</em><span>! Forward, -</span><em class="italics">march</em><span>! Column, </span><em class="italics">left</em><span>! Ground, </span><em class="italics">arms</em><span>! Fall -out." Tossing a coin on the floor as payment for -the supper Bill turned sharply and went out -without even a backward glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The proprietor wiped the perspiration from his -face and walked unsteadily to the bar, where he -poured out a generous drink and gulped it down. -Peering out of the door to see if the coast was -clear, he scurried across the street and told his -troubles to the harness-maker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bill leaned weakly against Hawley's and -laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks. -Pushing weakly from the building he returned -to the Victoria to play another joke on its -proprietor. Finding it vacant he slipped upstairs -and hunted for a room to suit him. The bed was -the softest he had seen for a long time and it lured -him into removing his boots and chaps and guns, -after he had propped a chair against the door as -a warning signal, and stretching out flat on his -back, he prepared to enjoy solid comfort. It was -not yet dark, and as he was not sleepy he lay there -thinking over the events of the past twenty-four -hours, often laughing so hard as to shake the bed. -What a reputation he would have in the morning! -The softness of the bed got in its work and he -fell asleep, for how long he did not know; but -when he awakened it was dark and he heard voices -coming up from below. They came from the -room he had refused to take. One expression -banished all thoughts of sleep from his mind and -he listened intently. "'Red-headed Irish -gunman.' Why, they means me! 'Make him hop -into h—l.' I don't reckon I 'd do that for -anybody, even my friends."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tried to give 'im this room, but 'e would n't -tyke it" protested the proprietor, hurriedly. -"'E says the bloody room was n't good enough -for 'im, </span><em class="italics">hand</em><span> 'e marches me out hand makes off. -Likely 'e 's in </span><em class="italics">'Awley's</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, he ain't," growled a strange voice. -"You 've gone an' bungled th' whole thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I s'y I did n't, you know. I tries to give -'im this werry room, George, but 'e would n't 'ave -it. D'y think I wants 'im running haround this -blooming town? 'E 's worse nor the other, </span><em class="italics">hand</em><span> -Gawd knows 'e was bad enough. 'E 's a -cold-</span><em class="italics">blooded</em><span> beggar, 'e is!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You missed yore chance," grunted the other. -"Wish </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> had that gun you had."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was wishing to Gawd you did," retorted the -proprietor. "It never looked so bloody big -before, d—n 'is </span><em class="italics">'ide</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, his cayuse is in Hawley's corral," said -the first speaker. "If I ever finds Hawley kept -him under cover I 'll blow his head off. Come -on; we 'll get Harris first. He ought to be -gettin' close to town if he got th' word I sent over to -Tuxedo. He won't let us call him. He's a -man of his word."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He 'll be here, all right. Fred an' Tom is -watchin' his shack, an' we better take th' other -end of town—there 's no tellin' how he 'll come in -now," suggested Art Thomas. "But I wish I -knowed where that cussed gun-man is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they went out Bill, his chaps on and his -boots in his hand, crept down the stairs, and -stopped as he neared the hall door. The -proprietor was coming back. The others were -outside, going to their stations and did not hear the -choking gasp that the proprietor made as a pair -of strong hands reached out and throttled him. -When he came to he was lying face down on a -bed, gagged and bound by a rope that cut into -his flesh with every movement. Bill, waiting a -moment, slipped into the darkness and was -swallowed up. He was looking for Mr. Harris, -and looking eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The moon arose and bathed the dusty street -and its crude shacks in silver, cunningly and -charitably hiding its ugliness; and passed on as -the skirmishing rays of the sun burst into the -sky in close and eternal pursuit. As the dawn -spread swiftly and long, thin shadows sprang -across the sandy street, there arose from the -dissipated darkness close to the wall of a building -an armed man, weary and slow from a tiresome -vigil. Another emerged from behind a pile of -boards that faced the marshal's abode, while -down the street another crept over the edge of -a dried-out water course and swore softly as he -stood up slowly to flex away the stiffness of -cramped limbs. Of vain speculation he was -empty; he had exhausted all the whys and hows -long before and now only muttered discontentedly -as he reviewed the hours of fruitless -waiting. And he was uneasy; it was not like Harris -to take a dare and swallow his own threats -without a struggle. He looked around apprehensively, -shrugged his shoulders and stalked behind -the shacks across from the two hotels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another figure crept from the protection of -Hawley's corral like a slinking coyote, gun in -hand and nervously alert. He was just in time -to escape the challenge that would have been -hurled at him by Hawley, himself, had that -gentleman seen the skulker as he grouchily opened -one shutter and scowled sleepily at the kindling -eastern sky. Mr. Hawley was one of those who -go to bed with regret and get up with remorse, -and his temper was always easily disturbed -before breakfast. The skulker, safe from the -remorseful gentleman's eyes, and gun, kept close -to the building as he walked and was again -fortunate, for he had passed when Mr. Hawley -strode heavily into his kitchen to curse the cold, -rusty stove, a rite he faithfully performed each -morning. Across the street George and Art -Thomas walked to meet each other behind the -row of shacks and stopped near the harness shop -to hold a consultation. The subject was so -interesting that for a few moments they were -oblivious to all else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A man softly stepped to the door of the -Victoria and watched the two across the street with -an expression on his face that showed his -smiling contempt for them and their kind. He was -a small man, so far as physical measurements -go, but he was lithe, sinewy and compact. On -his opened vest, hanging slovenly and blinking -in the growing light as if to prepare itself for -the blinding glare of midday, glinted a -five-pointed star of nickel, a lowly badge that every -rural community knows and holds in an awe far -above the metal or design. Swinging low on his -hip gleamed the ivory butt of a silver-plated -Colt, the one weakness that his vanity seized -upon. But under the silver and its engraving, -above and before the cracked and stained ivory -handles, lay the power of a great force; and -under the casing of the marshal's small body lay a -virile manhood, strong in courage and -determination. Toby Harris watched, smilingly; he -loved the dramatic and found keen enjoyment in -the situation. Out of the corner of his eye he -saw a carelessly dressed cowpuncher slouching -indolently along close to the buildings on the -other side of the street with the misleading -sluggishness of a panther. The red hair, kissed by -the slanting rays of the sun where it showed -beneath the soiled sombrero, seemed to be a -flaming warning; the half-closed eyes, squinting -under the brim of the big hat, missed nothing as -they darted from point to point.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marshal stepped silently to the porch and -then on to the ground, his back to the rear of -the hotel, waiting to be discovered. He had -been in sight perhaps a minute. The -cowpuncher made a sudden, eye-baffling movement -and smoke whirled about his hips. Fred, -turning the corner behind the marshal, dropped his -gun with a scream of rage and pain and crashed -against the window in sudden sickness, his -gunhand hanging by a tendon from his wrist. The -marshal stepped quickly forward at the shot and -for an instant gazed deeply into the eyes of the -startled rustlers. Then his Colt leaped out and -crashed a fraction of a second before the brothers -fired. George Thomas reeled, caught sight of -the puncher and fired by instinct. Bill, leaving -Harris to watch the other side of the street, was -watching the rear corner of the Victoria and -was unprepared for the shot. He crumpled -and dropped and then the marshal, enraged, -ended the rustler's earthly career in a stream of -flame and smoke. Tom, turning into the street -further down, wheeled and dashed for his horse, -and Art, having leaped behind the harness shop, -turned and fled for his life. He had nearly -reached his horse and was going at top speed -with great leaps when the prostrate man in the -street, raising on his elbow, emptied his gun -after him, the five shots sounding almost as one. -Art Thomas arose convulsively, steadied -himself and managed to gain the saddle. Harris -looked hastily down the street and saw a cloud -of dust racing northward, and grunted. "Let -them go—</span><em class="italics">they</em><span> won't never come back no more." -Running to the cowpuncher he raised him after -a hurried examination of the wounded thigh. -"Hop along, Cassidy," he smiled in encouragement. -"You 'll be a better man with one good -laig than th' whole gang was all put together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The puncher smiled faintly as Hawley, -running to them, helped him toward his hotel. "Th' -bone is plumb smashed. I reckon I 'll hop -along through life. It 'll be hop along, for me, -all right. That's </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> name, all right. Huh! -Hopalong Cassidy! But I didn't hop into -h—l, did I, Harris?" he grinned bravely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And thus was born a nickname that found -honor and fame in the cow-country—a name -that stood for loyalty, courage and most -amazing gun-play. I have Red's word for this, and -the endorsement of those who knew him at the -time. And from this on, up to the time he died, -and after, we will forsake "Bill" and speak of him -as Hopalong Cassidy, a cowpuncher who lived -and worked in the days when the West was wild -and rough and lawless; and who, like others, -through the medium of the only court at hand, -Judge Colt, enforced justice as he believed it -should be enforced.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="dealing-the-odd"><span class="large">VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">"DEALING THE ODD"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Faro-bank is an expensive game when -luck turns a cold shoulder on any player, -and "going broke" is as easy as ruffling a deck. -When a man finds he has two dollars left out of -more than two months' pay and that it has taken -him less than thirty minutes to get down to that -mark, he cannot be censored much if he rails at -that Will-o'-the-wisp, the Goddess of Luck. -Put him a good ten days' ride from home, -acquaintances and money and perhaps he will be -justified in adding heat in plenty to his -denunciation. He had played to win when he should -have coppered, coppered when he should have -played to win, he had backed both ends against -the middle and played the high card as well—but -only when his bets were small did the turn -show him what he wanted to see. Perhaps the -case-keeper had hoodooed him, for he never did -have any luck at cards when a tow-headed man -had a finger in the game.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fuming impotently at his helplessness, a man -limped across the main street in Colby, -constrained and a little awkward in his new store -clothes and new, squeaking boots that were -clumsy with stiffness. The only things on him -that he could regard as old and tried friends were -the battered sombrero and the heavy, walnut-handled -Colt's .45 which rubbed comfortably -with each movement of his thigh. The weapon, -to be sure, had a ready cash value—but he could -not afford to part with it. The horse belonged -to his ranch, and the saddle must not be sold; -to part with it would be to lose his mark of caste -and become a walking man, which all good -punchers despised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ten days from home, knowin' nobody, two -measly dollars in my pocket, an' luck dead agin -me," he growled with pugnacious pessimism. -"Oh, I 'm a wise old bird, I am! A h—l of a -wise bird. Real smart an' cute an' shiny, a -cache of wisdom, a real, bonyfied Smart Aleck -with a head full of spavined brains. I copper -th' deuce an' th' deuce wins; I play th' King to -win for ten dollars when I ought to copper it. -I lay two-bits and it comes right—ten dollars -an' I see my guess go </span><em class="italics">loco</em><span>. Reckon I better -slip these here twin bucks down in my kill-me-soon -boots afore some blind papoose takes 'em -away from me. Wiser 'n Solomon, I am; I 've -got old Caesar climbin' a cactus for pleasure an' -joy. S-u-c-k-e-r is my middle name—an' I 'm -busted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He almost stumbled over a little tray of a -three-legged table on the corner of the street and -his face went hard as he saw the layout. Three -halves of English walnut shells lay on the faded -and soiled green cloth and a blackened, shriveled -pea was still rolling from the shaking he had -given the table. He stopped and regarded it -gravely, jingling his two dollars disconsolately. -"Don't this town do nothin' else besides gamble?" -he muttered, looking around.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Howd'y, stranger!" cheerfully cried a man -who hastened up. "Want to see me fool you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The puncher's anger was aroused to a thin, -licking flame; but it passed swiftly and a cold, -calculating look came into his eyes. He glanced -around swiftly, trying to locate the cappers, but -they were not to be seen, which worried him a -little. He always liked to have possible danger -where he could keep an eye on it. Perhaps they -were eating or drinking—the thought stirred -him again to anger: two dollars would not feed -him very long, nor quench his thirst.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pick it out, stranger," invited the proprietor, -idly shifting the shells. "It's easy if yo 're -right smart—but lots of folks just can't do it; -they can't seem to get th' hang of it, somehow. -That's why it's a bettin' proposition. Here it -is, right before yore eyes! One little pea, three -little shells, right here plumb in front of yore -eyes! Th' little pea hides under one of th' little -shells, right in plain sight: But can you tell -which one? That's th' whole game, right there. -See how it's done?" and the three little shells -moved swiftly but clumsily and the little pea -disappeared. "Now, then; where would </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> -say it was?" demanded the hopeful operator, -genially.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The puncher gripped his two dollars firmly, -shifted his weight as much as possible on his -sound leg, and scowled: he knew where it was. -"Do I look like a kid? Do you reckon you -have to coax like a fool to get me all primed up -to show how re-markably smart an' quick I -am? You don't; I know how smart I am. -Say, you ain't, not by any kinda miracle, a blind -papoose, are you?" he demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What you mean?" asked the other, smiling -as he waited for the joke. It did not come, so -he continued. "Don't take no harm in my fool -wind-jammin', stranger. It's in th' game. -It's a habit; I 've said it so much I just can't -help it no more—I up an' says it at a funeral -once; that is, part of it—th' first part. That's -dead right! But I reckon I 'm wastin' my -time—unless you happen to feel coltish an' hain't -got nothin' to do for an age. I 've been playin' -in hard luck th' last week or so—you see, I ain't -as good as I uster be. I ain't quite so quick, an' -a little bit off my quickness is a whole lot off my -chances. But th' game's square—an' that's -a good deal more'n you can say about most of 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The puncher hesitated, a grin flickering about -his thin lips and a calm joy warming him -comfortably. He knew the operator. He knew -that face, the peculiar, crescent-shaped scar over -one brow, and the big, blue eyes that years of -life had not entirely robbed of their baby-like -innocence. The past, sorted thoroughly and -quickly by his memory, shoved out that face -before a crowd of others. Five years is not a long -time to remember something unpleasant; he had -reasons to remember that countenance. Knowing -the face he also knew that the man had been, -at one time, far from "square." The associations -and means of livelihood during the past -five years, judging from the man's present -occupation, had not been the kind to correct any -evil tendency. He laid a forefinger on the edge -of the tray. "Start th' machinery—I 'll risk a -couple of dollars, anyhow. That ain't much to -lose. I bet two dollars I can call it right," he -said, watching closely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He won, as he knew he would; and the result -told him that the gambler had not reformed. -The dexterous fingers shifting the shells were -slower than others he had seen operate and when -he had won again he stopped, as if to leave. -"When I hit town a short time ago I didn't -know I 'd be so lucky. I went an' drawed two -months' pay when I left th' ranch: I shore don't -need it. Shuffle 'em again—it's yore money, -anyhow," he laughed. "You should 'a' quit th' -game before you got so slow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goin' back to work purty soon?" queried the -shell-man, wondering how much this "sucker" -had left unspent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not me! I 've only just had a couple of -drinks since I hit town—an' </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> 'm due to celebrate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other's face gave no hint of his thoughts, -which were that the fool before him had about a -hundred dollars on his person. "Well, luck's -with you today—you 've called it right twice. -I 'll bet you a cool hundred that you can't call -it th' third time. It's th' quickness of my hands -agin yore eyes—an' you can't beat me three -straight. Make it a hundred? I hate to play all day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll lay you my winnings an' have some more -of yore money," replied the puncher, feverishly. -"Ain't scared, are you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't know what it means to be scared," -laughed the other. "But I ain't got no small -change, nothin' but tens. Play a hundred an' -let's have some real excitement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nope; eight or nothin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He won again. "Now, sixteen even. Come -on; I 've got you beat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what's th' use of stringin' 'long like -that?" demanded the shell-man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gimme a chance to get my hand in, won't -you?" retorted the puncher.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, all right," replied the gambler, and he -lost the sixteen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now thirty," suggested the puncher. "Next -time all I 've got, every red cent. Once more -to practice—then every red," he repeated, shifting -his feet nervously. "I 'll clean you out an' -have a real, genuine blow-out on yore money. -Come on, I 'm in a hurry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll fool you </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> time, by th' Lord!" swore -the gambler, angrily. "You've got more luck -than sense. An' I 'll fool you next time, too. -Yo 're quicker 'n most men I 've run up agin, -but I can beat you, shore as shootin'. Th' -game's square, th' play fair—my hand agin -yore eye. Ready? Then watch me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He swore luridly and shoved the money across -the board to the winner, bewailing his slowness -and getting angrier every moment. "Yo 're th' -cussedest man I ever bet agin! But I'll get -you </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> time. You can't guess right all th' -time, an' I know it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There she is; sixty-two bucks, three score an' -two simoleons; all I 've got, every cent. Let's -see you take it away from me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gambler frowned and choked back a -curse. He had risked sixty dollars to win two, -and the fact that he had to let this fool play -again with the fire hurt his pride. He had no -fear for his money—he knew he could win at -every throw—but to play that long for two -dollars! And suppose the sucker had quit with the -sixty!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you get a dollar a month?" he demanded, -sarcastically. "Well, I reckon you earn it, at -that. Thought you had money, thought you -drew down two months' pay an' hain't had -nothin' more'n two drinks? Did you go an' -lose it on th' way?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I drew it a month ago," replied the -sucker, surprised. "I 've only had two drinks -in this town, which I hit 'bout an hour ago. But -I shore lost a wad playin' faro-bank agin a -towhead. Come on—lemme take sixty more of -yore money, anyhow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sixty-</span><em class="italics">two</em><span>!" snapped the proprietor, determined -to have those two miserable dollars and -break the sucker for revenge. "Every cent, you -remember."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">All</em><span> right; I don't care! I ain't no tin-horn," -grumbled the other. "Think I care 'bout two -dollars?" But he appeared to be very nervous, -nevertheless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, put it on th' table."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After you put yourn down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There it is. Now watch me close!" A -gleam of joy flashed up in the angry man's eyes -as he played with the shells. "Watch me close! -Mebby it is, an' mebby it ain't—th' game's -square, th' play 's fair. It's my hand agin yore -eye. Watch me close!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, go ahead! I'm watchin', all right. -Think I 'd go to sleep now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The shifting hands stopped, the shells lay -quiet, and the gambler gazed blankly down the -unsympathetic barrel of a Colt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Thomas, old thimble-rigger," crisply -remarked the supposed sucker as he cautiously -slid the money off the table, to be picked up -later when conditions would be more favorable. -"Th' little pea ain't under </span><em class="italics">no</em><span> shell. </span><em class="italics">Stop</em><span>! -Step back one pace an' elevate them paws. -Don't make no more funny motions with that -hand, savvy? But you can drop th' pea if it -hurts them two fingers. Now we 'll see if I -win; I allus like to be shore," and he cautiously -turned over the shells, revealing nothing but the -dirty green cloth. "I win; it ain't there—just -like I thought."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you, an' how 'd you know my -name?" demanded the gambler, mentally cursing -his two missing cappers. They were drinking -once too often and things were going to -happen in their vicinity, and very soon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you took twenty-five dollars from me -up in Alameda onct, when I could n't afford to -lose it," grinned the puncher. "I was something -of a kid then. I remember you, all right. -My foreman told me about yore bang-up fight -agin th' Johnson brothers, who gave you that -scar. I thought then that you were a great -man—now I know you ain't. I would n't 'a' played -at all if I had n't knowed how crooked you was. -Take yore layout an' yore crookedness, find th' -pea an' yore cappers, an' clear out. An' if -anybody asks you if you 've seen Hopalong Cassidy -you tell 'em I 'm up here in Colby makin' some -easy money beatin' crooked games. So-long, an' -</span><em class="italics">don't</em><span> look back!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong watched him go and then went to -the nearest place where he could get something -to eat. In due time, having disposed of a square -meal, Hopalong called for a drink and a cigar, -and sat quietly smoking for nearly half an hour, -so lost in thought that his cigar went out -repeatedly. As he reviewed his disastrous play at faro -many small details came to him and now he -found them interesting. The dealer was not a -master at his trade and Hopalong had seen -many better; in fact the man was not even second -class, and this fact hurt his pride. He had -played a careful game, and the great majority -of his small bets had won—it was only when he -risked twenty or thirty dollars that he lost. The -only big bet that he had been at all lucky on was -one where doubles showed on the turn and he -had been split, losing half of his stake. But -when he had played his last fifty dollars on the -Jack, open, the final blow fell and he had left -the table in disgust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why weren't there cue-cards, so the players -could keep their own tally of the cards instead -of having to depend on the cue-box kept by the -case-keeper? This made him suspicious; a -crooked dealer and case-keeper can trim a big -bet at will, unless the players keep their own -cases or are exceptionally wise; and even then -a really good dealer will get away with his play -nine times out of ten. While he seldom played -a system, he had backed one that morning; but -he was cured of that weakness now. If the -game were square he figured he could get at least -an even break; if crooked, nothing but a gun -could beat it, and he had a very good gun. -When he thought of the gun, he reviewed the -arrangement of the room and estimated the -weight of the rough, deal table on which rested -the faro layout. He smiled and turned to the -bartender. "Hey, barkeeper! Got any paper -an' a pencil?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After some rummaging the taciturn dispenser -of liquid forget-it produced the articles -in question and Hopalong, drawing some -hurried lines, paid his bill, treated, kept the pencil -and headed for the faro game across the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he entered the room the table was -deserted and he nodded to the dealer as he seated -himself at the right of the case-keeper, who now -took his place, and opposite the dealer and the -lookout. He was not surprised to find no other -players in the room, for the hour was wrong; -later in the afternoon there would be many and -at night the place would be crowded. This -suited him perfectly and he settled himself to -begin playing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the deck was shuffled and placed in the -deal box Hopalong put his ruled paper in front -of him on the table, tallied once against the King -for the soda card and started to play quarters -and half dollars. He caught the fugitive look -that passed between the men as they saw his -cue-card but he gave no sign of having observed -it. After that he never looked up from the cards -while his bets were small. Two deals did not -alter his money much and he knew that so far -the game was straight. If it were not to -remain straight the crookedness would not come -more than once in a deal if the frame-up was -"single-odd" and then not until the bet was large -enough to practically break him. His -high-card play ran in his favor and kept him -gradually drawing ahead. He lost twice in calling -the last turn and guessed it right once, at four -to one, which made him win in that department -of the game.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the fifth deal began he was quite a -little ahead and his play became bolder, some of -the bets going as high as ten dollars. He broke -even and then played heavier on the following -deal. His first high bet, twenty dollars, was on -the eight, open, only one eight having shown. -Double eights showed on the next turn and he -was split, losing half the stake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was about this time that the look-out -discovered that Mr. Cassidy was getting a little -excited and several times had nearly forgotten -to keep his cases. This information was cautiously -passed to the dealer and case-keeper and -from then on they evinced a little more interest -in the game. Finally the player, after studying -his cue-card, placed fifty dollars on the Queen, -open, and coppered the deuce, a case-card, and -then put ten more on the high card. This came -in the middle of the game and he was prepared -for trouble as the turn was made, but fortune -was kind to him and he raked in sixty dollars. -He was mildly surprised that he had won, but -explained it to himself by thinking that the -stakes were not yet high enough. From then -on he was keenly alert, for the crookedness would -come soon if it ever did, but he strung small -sums on the next dozen turns and waited for a -new deal before plunging.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the dealer shuffled the cards the door -opened and closed noisily and a surprised and -doubting voice exclaimed: "Ain't you -Hopalong Cassidy? Cassidy, of th' Bar-20?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong glanced up swiftly and back to the -cards again: "Yes; what of it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nothin'. I saw you onct an' I -wondered if I was right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ain't got time now; see you later, mebby. -You might stick around outside so I can borrow -some money if I go broke." The man who knew -Mr. Cassidy silently faded, but did not stick -around, thereby proving that the player knew -human nature and also how to get rid of a pest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the dealer heard the name he glanced -keenly at the owner of it, exchanged significant -looks with the case-keeper and faltered for an -instant as he shoved the cards together. He -was not sure that he had shuffled them right, and -an anxious look came into his eyes as he realized -that the deal must go on. It was far from -reassuring to set out to cheat a man so well known -for expert short-gun work as the Bar-20 puncher -and he wished he could be relieved. There was -no other dealer around at that time of the day -and he had to go through with it. He did not -dare to shuffle again and chance losing the card -beyond hope, and for the reason that the player -was watching him like a hawk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A ten lay face up on the deck and Hopalong, -tallying against it on his sheet, began to play -small sums. Luck was variable and remained -so until the first twenty dollar bet, when he -reached out excitedly and raked in his winnings, -his coat sleeve at the same time brushing the -cue-card off the table. But he had forgotten all -about the tally sheet in his eagerness to win and -played several more cards before he noticed it -was missing and sought for it. Smothering a -curse he glanced at the case-keeper's tally and -went on with the play. He did not see the look -of relief that showed momentarily on the faces -of the dealer and his associates, but he guessed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had no use for cue-cards when he felt like -doing without them; he liked to see them in use -by the players because it showed the game to be -more or less straight, and it also saved him from -over-heating his memory. When he had -brushed his tally sheet off the table he knew -what he was doing, and he knew every card that -had been drawn out of the box. So far he had -seen no signs of cheating and he wished to give -the dealer a chance. There should now remain -in the deal box three cards, a deuce, five and a -four, with a Queen in sight as the last winner. -He knew this to be true because he had given all -his attention to memorizing the cards as they -showed in the deal box, and had made his bets -small so he would not have to bother about them. -As he had lost three times on a four he now -believed it was due to win.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Taking all his money he placed it on the four: -"Two hundred and seventy on th' four to win," -he remarked, crisply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dealer sniffed almost inaudibly and the -case-keeper prepared to cover him on the -cue-rack under cover of the excitement of the turn. -If the four lay under the Queen, Cassidy lost; -if not he either won or was in hock. The dealer -was unusually grave as he grasped the deal box -to make the turn and as the Queen slid off a -five-spot showed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dealer's hand trembled as he slid the five -off, showing a four, and a winner for Hopalong. -He went white—he had bungled the shuffle in -his indecision and now he did n't know what -might develop. And in his agitation he exposed -the hock card before he realized what he was -doing, and showed another five. He had made the -mistake of showing the "odd."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong, ready for trouble, was more -prepared than the others and he was well under way -before they started. His left hand swung hard -against the case-keeper's jaw, his Colt roared at -the drawing bartender, crumpling the trouble-hunter -into a heap on the floor dazed from shock -of a ball that "creased" his head. He had done -this as he sprang to his feet and his left hand, -dropping swiftly to the heavy table, threw it -over onto the lookout and the dealer at the -instant their hands found their guns. Caught off -their balance they went down under it and -before they could move sufficiently to do any -damage, Hopalong vaulted the table and kicked -their guns out of their hands. When they -realized just what had happened a still-smoking Colt -covered them. Many of Hopalong's most -successful and spectacular plays had been less -carefully thought out beforehand than this one and -he laughed sneeringly as he looked at the men -who had been so greedy as to try to clean him out -the second time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get up!" he snarled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They crawled out of their trap and sullenly -obeyed his hand, backing against the wall. The -case-keeper was still unconscious and Hopalong, -disarming him, dragged him to the wall with the -others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wondered where that deuce had crawled to," -Mr. Cassidy remarked, grimly, "an' I was goin' -to see, only it's plain now. I knowed you was -clumsy, but my G—d! Any man as can't deal -'single-odd' ought to quit th' business, or play -straight. So you had five fives agin me, eh? -Instead of keepin' th' five under th' Queen, you -bungled th' deuce in its place. When you went -to pull off th' Queen an' five like they was one -card, you had th' deuce under her. You see, I -keep cases in my old red head an' I did n't have -to believe what th' cue-rack was all fixed to show -me. An' I was waitin', all ready for th' play -that 'd make me lose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As long as this deal was framed up, we 'll -say it was this mornin'. You cough up th' -hundred an' ten I lost then, an' another hundred an' -ten that I 'd won if it was n't crooked. An' -don't forget that two-seventy I just pulled down, -neither. Make it in double eagles an' don't be -slow 'bout it. Money or lead—with </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> callin' -th' turn." It was not a very large amount and -it took only a moment to count it out. The -eleven double eagles representing the mornin's -play seemed to slide from the dealer's hand with -reluctance—but a man lives only once, and they -slid without stopping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The winner, taking the money, picked up the -last money he had bet and, distributing it over -his person to equalize the weight, gathered up -the guns from the floor. Backing toward the -door he noticed that the bartender moved and -a keen glance at that unfortunate assured him -that he would live.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he reached the door he stopped a -moment to ask a question, the tenseness of his -expression relaxing into a broad, apologetic grin. -"Would you mind tellin' me where I can find -some more frame-ups? I shore can use th' money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mumbled replies mentioned a locality not -to be found on any map of the surface of the -globe, and grinning still more broadly, Mr. Cassidy -side-stepped and disappeared to find his -horse and go on his way rejoicing.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-norther"><span class="large">VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">THE NORTHER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Johnny knew I had a notebook crammed -with the stories his friends had told me; -but Johnny, being a wise youth, also knew that -there was always room for one more. Perhaps -that explains his sarcasm, for, as he calmly -turned his back on his fuming friend, he winked -at me and sauntered off, whistling cheerfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red spread his feet apart, jammed his fists -against his thighs and stared after the youngster. -His expression was a study and his open mouth -struggled for a retort, but in vain. After a -moment he shook his head and slowly turned to -me. "Hear th' fool? He 's from </span><em class="italics">Idyho</em><span>, he is. -It never gets cold nowhere else on earth. Ain't -it terrible to be so ignorant?" He glanced at -the bunkhouse, into which Johnny had gone for -dry clothing. "So I ain't never seen no cold -weather?" he mused thoughtfully. Snapping -his fingers irritably, he wheeled toward the -corral. "I 'm goin' down to look at th' dam—there -'s been lots of water leanin' ag'in it th' last -week. Throw th' leather on Saint, if you wants, -an' come along. I 'll tell you about some cold -weather that had th' </span><em class="italics">Idyho</em><span> brand faded. </span><em class="italics">Cold</em><span> -weather! Huh!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he swung past the bunkhouse we saw -Johnny and Billy Jordan leaning in the -doorway ragging each other, as cubs will. Johnny -grinned at Red and executed a one-hand phrase -of the sign language that is universally known, -which Red returned with a chuckle. "Wish he 'd -been here th' time God took a hand in a big game -on this ranch," he said. "I 'm minus two toes -on each foot in consequence thereof. They can't -scare me none by preachin' a red-hot hell. No, -sir; not any."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was silent a moment. "Mebby it ain't -so bad when a feller is used to it; but we ain't. -An' it frequent hits us goin' over th' fence, -with both feet off th' ground. Anyhow, that -Norther was n't no storm—it was th' attendant -agitation caused by th' North Pole visitin' th' -Gulf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cowan had just put Buckskin on th' map -by buildin' th' first shack. John Bartlett an' -Shorty Jones, d—n him, was startin' th' Double -Arrow with two hundred head. When th' -aforementioned agitation was over they had -less 'n one hundred. We lost a lot of cows, too; -but our range is sheltered good, an' that rock -wall down past Meeker's bunkhouse stopped our -drifts, though lots of th' cows died there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We 'd had a mild winter for two weeks, an' -a lot of rain. We was chirpin' like li'l fool birds -about winter bein' over. Ever notice how many -times winter is over before it is? But Buck -did n't think so; an' he shore can smell weather. -We was also discussin' a certain campin' party -Jimmy had discovered across th' river. Jimmy -was at th' bunkhouse that shift an' he was a great -hand for snoopin' around kickin' up trouble. -He reports there's twelve in th' party an' -they 're camped back of Split Hill. Now, Split -Hill is no place for a camp, even in th' summer; -an' what got us was th' idea of campin' at all in -th' winter. It riled Buck till he forgot to cross -off three days on th' calendar, which we later -discovered by help of th' almanac an' th' moon. -Buck sends Hoppy over to scout around Split -Hill. You know Hoppy. He scouted for two -days without bein' seen, an' without discoverin' -any lawful an' sane reason why twelve hard-lookin' -fellers should be campin' back of Split -Hill in th' winter time. He also found they -had come from th' south, an' he swore there -was n't no cow tracks leadin' toward them from -our range. But there was lots of hoss tracks -back and forth. An' when he reports that th' -campers had left an' gone on north we all feel -better. Then he adds they turned east below -th' Double Arrow an' went back south again. -That's different. It's plain to some of us they -was lookin' us over for future use; learnin' our -ways an' th' lay of th' land. There was seven -of us at th' time, but we could 'a' licked 'em in -a fair fight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In them days we only had two line houses. -Number One was near Big Coulee, with Cowan's -at th' far end of its fifteen miles of north line; -th' west line was a twenty-five-mile ride south -to Lookout Peak. Number Two was where th' -Jumpin' Bear empties into th' river, now part -of Meeker's range. From it th' riders went west -twenty-five miles to th' Peak an' north from it -twenty-five miles along th' east line. There was -a hundred thousan' acres in Conroy Valley an' -thirty thousan' in th' Meeker triangle, which -made up Section Two. At that time mebby ten -thousan' cows was on this section—two-thirds of -all of 'em. When we built Number Three on -th' Peak this section was cut down to a reasonable -size. Th' third headquarters then was th' -bunkhouse, with only th' east line to ride. One -part, th' shortest, ran north to Cowan's; th' other -run about seventeen miles south to Li'l Timber, -where th' line went on as part of Number Two's. -We paired off an' had two weeks in each of 'em -in them days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When we shifted at th' end of that week -Jimmy Price an' Ace Fisher got Number One; -Skinny an' Lanky was in Number Two; an' me -an' Buck an' Hoppy took life easy in th' -bunkhouse, with th' cook to feed us. Buck, he -scouted all over th' ranch between th' lines an' -worked harder than any of us, spendin' his nights -in th' nearest house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One mornin', about a week after th' campers -left, Buck looked out of th' bunkhouse door an' -cautions me an' Hoppy to ride prepared for cold -weather. I can see he 's worried, an' to please -him we straps a blanket an' a buffalo robe -behind our saddles, cussin' th' size of 'em under -our breath. I 've got th' short ride that day, -an' Buck says he 'll wait for me to come back, -after which we 'll scout around Medicine Bend. -He 's still worried about them campers. In th' -Valley th' cows are thicker 'n th' other parts of -th' range, an' it would n't take no time to get a -big herd together. He 's got a few things to -mend, so he says he 'll do th' work before I get -back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Down on Section Two things is happenin' -fast, like they mostly do out here. Twelve -rustlers can do a lot if they have things planned, -an' 'most any fair plan will work once. They -only wanted one day—after that it would be a -runnin' fight, with eight or nine of 'em layin' -back to hold us off while th' others drove th' -cows hard. Why, Slippery Trendley an' Tamale -Jose was th' only ones that ever slid across -our lines with that many men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three rustlers slipped up to Number Two -at night an' waited. When Skinny opened th' -door in th' mornin' he was drove back with a hole -in his shoulder. Then there was h—l a-poppin' -in that li'l mud shack. But it did n't do no good, -for neither of 'em could get out alive until after -dark. They learned that with sorrow, an' pain. -An' they shore was het up about it. Ace Fisher, -ridin' along th' west line from Number One, was -dropped from ambush. Two more rustlers lay -back of Medicine Bend lookin' for any of us that -might ride down from the bunkhouse. An' they -sent two more over to Li'l Timber to lay under -that ledge of rock that sticks out of th' south side -of th' bluff like a porch roof. Either me or -Hoppy would be ridin' that way. They stacked -th' deck clever; but Providence cut it square.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Th' first miss-cue comes when a pert gray -wolf lopes past ahead of Hoppy when he 's quite -some distance above Li'l Timber. This gray -wolf was a whopper, an' Hoppy was all set to -get him. He wanted that sassy devil more 'n -he wanted money just then, so he starts after it. -Mr. Gray Wolf leads him a long chase over th' -middle of th' range an' then suddenly disappears. -Hoppy hunts around quite a spell, an' then heads -back for th' line. While he's huntin' for th' -wolf it gets cold, an' it keeps on gettin' colder fast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me, I leaves later 'n usual that mornin'. An' -I don't get to Cowan's until late. I 'm there -when I notices how cussed cold it's got all of -a sudden. Cowan looks at his thermometer, -which Jimmy later busts, an' says she has gone -down thirty degrees since daylight. He gives -me a bottle of liquor Buck wanted, an' I ride -west along th' north line, hopin' to meet Jimmy -or Ace for a short talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All at once I notice somebody 's pullin' a -slate-covered blanket over th' north sky, an' I -drag </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> blanket out an' wrap it around me. -I 'm gettin' blamed cold, an' also a li'l worried. -Shall I go back to Cowan's or head straight for -th' bunkhouse? Cowan's the nearest by three -miles, but what's three miles out here? It's got -a lot colder than it was when I was at Cowan's, -an' while I 'm debatin' about it th' wind dies out. -I look up an' see that th' slate-covered blanket -has traveled fast. It's 'most over my head, an' -th' light is gettin' poor. When I look down -again I notice my cayuses's ears movin' back an' -forth, an' he starts pawin' an' actin' restless. -That settles it. I 'm backin' instinct just then, -an' I head for home. I ain't cussin' that blanket -none now, an' I 'm glad I got th' robe handy; -an' that quart of liquor ain't bulky no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All at once th' bottom falls out of that lead -sky, an' flakes as big as quarters sift down so fast -they hurts my eyes, an' so thick I can't see -twenty feet. In ten minutes everythin' is white, -an' in ten more I 'm in a strange country. My -hands an' feet ache with cold, an' I 'm drawin' -th' blanket closer, when there 's a puff of wind -so cold it cuts into my back like a knife. It -passes quick, but it don't fool me. I know -what's behind it. I reach for th' robe an' has -it 'most unfastened when there 's a roar an' I 'm -'most unseated by th' wind before I can get set. -I did n't know then that it's goin' to blow that -hard for three days, an' it's just as well. It's -full of ice—li'l slivers that are sharp as needles -an' cut an' sting till they make th' skin raw. I -let loose of th' robe an' tie my bandanna around -my face, so my nose an' mouth is covered. My -throat burns already almost to my lungs. Good -Lord, but it </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> cold! My hands are stiff when -I go back for th' robe, an' it's all I can do to keep -it from blowin' away from me. It takes me a -long time to get it over th' blanket, an' my hands -are 'most froze when it's fastened. That was a -good robe, but it did n't make much difference -that day. Th' cold cuts through it an' into my -back as if it was n't there. My feet are gettin' -worse all th' time, an' it ain't long before I ain't -got none, for th' achin' stops at th' ankles. -Purty soon only my knees ache, an' I know it -won't be long till they won't ache no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm squirmin' in my clothes tryin' to rub -myself warm when I remember that flask of -liquor. Th' cork was out far enough for my -teeth to get at it, an' I drink a quarter of it quick. -It's an awful load—any other time it would 'a' -knocked me cold, for Cowan sold a lot worse -stuff then than he does now. But it don't phase -me, except for takin' most of th' linin' out of -my mouth an' throat. It warms me a li'l, an' it -makes my knees ache a li'l harder. But it don't -last long—th' cold eats through me just as hard -as ever a li'l later, an' then I begin to see things -an' get sleepy. Cows an' cayuses float around -in th' air, an' I 'm countin' money, piles of it. -I get warm an' drowsy an' find myself noddin'. -That scares me a li'l, an' I fight hard ag'in it. -If I go to sleep it's all over. It keeps gettin' -worse, an' I finds my eyes shuttin' more an' more -frequent, an' more an' more frequent thinkin' I -don't care, anyhow. An' so I drifts along -pullin' at th' bottle till it's empty. That should -'a' killed me, then an' there—but it don't even -make me real drunk. Mebby I spilled some of -it, my hands bein' nothin' but sticks. I can't see -more 'n five feet now, an' my eyes water, which -freezes on 'em. I 've given up all hope of -hearin' any shootin'. So I close th' peekhole in -th' blanket an' robe, drawin' 'em tight to keep -out some of th' cold. I am sittin' up stiff in th' -saddle, like a soldier, just from force of habit, -and after a li'l while I don't know nothin' more. -Pete says I was a corpse, froze stiff as a ramrod, -an' he calls me ghost for a long time in fun. -But Pete was n't none too clear in his head about -that time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Down at Li'l Timber, Hoppy managed to -get under th' shelter of that projectin' ledge of -rock on th' south side of th' bluff. Th' snow an' -ice is whirlin' under it because of a sort of back -draft, but th' wind don't hit so hard. He 's -fightin' that cayuse every foot, tryin' to get to -th' cave at th' west end, an' disputin' th' right of -way with th' cows that are packed under it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There 's firewood under that ledge an' there 's -food on th' hoof, an' snow water for drink; so if -he can make th' cave he 's safe. He 's more -worried about his supply of smokin' tobacco than -anythin' else, so far as he 's concerned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All at once he runs onto four men huddled -half-froze in a bunch right ahead of him. He -knows in a flash who they are, an' he draws -fumblingly, an' holds th' gun in his two hands, -they are so cold. One clean hit an' five clean -misses in twenty feet! They're gropin' for -their guns when a sudden gust of wind whirls -down from th' top of th' hill, pilin' snow an' ice -on 'em till they can't see nor breathe. An' a -couple of old trees come down to make things -nicer. Hoppy is blinded, an' when he gets so -he can see again there's one rustler's arm -stickin' up out of th' snow, but no signs of th' -other three. They blundered out into th' open -tryin' to get away from th' stuff comin' down on -'em, an' that means they won't be back no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hoppy manages to get to th' cave, tie his -cayuse to a fallen tree, an' gather enough -firewood for a good blaze, which he puts in front of -th' cave. It takes him a long time to use up his -matches one by one, an' then he pulls th' lead -out of a cartridge with his teeth, shakes th' -powder loose in it an' along th' barrel. Usin' his -cigarette papers for tinder he gets th' fire -started an' goin' good an' is feelin' some -cheerful when he remembers th' three rustlers driftin' -south. They was bound to hit a big arroyo that -would lead 'em almost ag'in' Number Two's door. -With th' wind drivin' 'em straight for it, Hoppy -thinks it might mean trouble for Lanky or -Skinny. He did n't think about 'em only havin' -wool-lined slickers on, or he 'd 'a' knowed they -couldn't live till they got halfway. They left -their blankets in camp so they could work fast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"People have called us clannish, an' said we -was a lovin' bunch' because we stick together so -tight. We 've faced so much together that us -of th' old bunch has got th' same blood in our -veins. We ain't eight men—we 're one man in -eight different kinds of bodies. G—d help -anybody that tries to make us less! It's one thing -to stand up an' swap shots with a gunman; but -it's another to turn yore back on a cave an' a -fire like that an' go out into what is purty nigh -shore death on a long chance of helpin' a couple -of friends that was able to take care of -themselves. That's one of th' things that explains -why we made Shorty Jones an' his eleven men -pay with their lives for takin' Jimmy's life. -Twelve for one! That fight at Buckskin ain't -generally understood, even by our friends. An' -Hoppy crowns his courage twice in that one -storm. Ain't he an old son-of-a-gun?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He leaves that fire an' forces his cayuse to -take him out in th' storm again, finds that th' -arroyo is level full of snow, but has both banks -swept bare. He passes them three rustlers in -th' next ten minutes—they won't do no more -cow-liftin'. Then he tries to turn back, but -that's foolish. So he drifts on, gettin' a li'l loco -by now. He 's purty near asleep when he thinks -he hears a shot. He fights his cayuse again, but -can't stop it, so he falls off an' lets it drift, an' -crawls an' fights his way back to where that shot -was fired from. G—d only knows how he does -it, but he falls over a cow an' sees Lanky huggin' -its belly for th' li'l warmth in th' carcass. An' -he ought to 'a' found him, after leavin' his cayuse -an' turnin' back on foot in that h—l storm! Th' -drifts was beginnin' to make then—when th' -storm was over I saw drifts thirty feet high in -th' open; an' in th' valley there was some that -run 'most to th' top of th' bluffs, an' they're -near sixty feet high.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Lanky is as crazy as him, an' won't -let go of that cow, an' they have a fight, which -is good for both of 'em. Finally Lanky gets -some sense in his head an' realizes what Hoppy -is tryin' to do for him, an' they go staggerin' -down wind, first one fallin' an' then th' other. -But they keep fightin' like th' game boys they -are, neither givin' a cuss for himself, but shore -obstinate that he 's goin' to get th' other out of -it. That's </span><em class="italics">our</em><span> spirit; an' we 're proud of it, by -G—d! Hoppy wraps th' robe around Lanky, -an' so they stagger on, neither one knowin' very -much by that time. Th' Lord must 'a' pitied -that pair, an' admired th' stuff He 'd put in 'em, -for they bump into th' line house kerslam, an' -drop, all done an' exhausted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Meanwhile Skinny's hoppin' around inside, -prayin' an' cussin' by streaks, every five minutes -openin' th' door an' firm' off his Colt. He has -tied th' two ropes together, an' frequent he ties -one end to th' door, th' other to hisself, an' goes -out pokin' around in th' snow, hopin' to stumble -over his pardner. He 's plumb forgot his bad -shoulder long ago. Purty soon he opens th' -door again to shoot off th' gun, an' in streaks -somethin' between his laigs. He slams th' door -as he jumps aside, an' then looks scared at -Lanky's sombrero! Mebby he's slow hoppin' -outside an' diggin' them out of th' drift that's -near covered 'em! Now, don't think bad of -Skinny. He dass n't leave th' house to search -any distance, even if he could 'a' seen anythin'. -His best play is to stick there an' shoot off his -gun—Lanky might drift past if he was not there -to signal. Skinny thought more of Lanky any -time than he did of hisself, th' emaciated match!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It don't take long to kick in a lot of snow -with that wind blowin' an' he rubs them two till -he 's got tears in his eyes. Then he fills 'em with -hot stew an' whisky, rolls 'em up together an' -heaves 'em in th' same bunk. It ain't warm -enough in that house, even with th' fire goin', to -make 'em lose no arms or laigs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems that Lanky, watchin' his chance as -soon as th' snow fell heavy enough to cover his -movements, slipped out of th' house an' started -to circle out around them festive rustlers that -held him an' his friend prisoners. He made -Skinny stay behind to hold th' house an' keep a -gun poppin'. Lanky has worked up behind -where th' rustlers was layin' when th' Norther -strikes full force. It near blows him over, an', -not havin' on nothin' but an old army overcoat -that was wore out, th' cold gets him quick. He -can't see, an' he can't hear Skinny's shots no -more! He does th' best he can an' tries to fight -back along his trail, but in no time there ain't -no tracks to follow. Then he loses his head an' -starts wanderin' until a cow blunders down on -him. He shoots th' cow an' hugs its belly to -keep warm an' then he don't really remember -nothin' 'till he wakes up in th' bunk alongside of -Hoppy, both gettin' over an awful drunk. -Skinny kept feedin' liquor to 'em till it was gone, -an' he had a plenty when he began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jimmy Price was at Number One when th' -blow started, an' Buck was in th' bunkhouse, an' -it was three weeks before they could get out an' -around, on account of th' snow fallin' so steady -an' hard they could n't see nothin'.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, getting back to me explains how Pete -Wilson came to th' Bar-20. He is migratin' -south, just havin' had th' pleasure of learnin' -that his wife sloped with a better-lookin' man. -He was scared she might get tired of th' other -feller an' sift back, so he sells out his li'l store, -loads a waggin with blankets, grub, an' firewood, -an' starts south, winter or no winter. He moves -fast for a new range, where he can make a new -beginnin' an' start life fresh, with five years of -burnin' matrimonial experience as his valuablest -asset. Pete says he reckoned mebby he -would n't have so many harness sores if he run -single th' rest of his life; heretofore he 'd been -so busy applyin' salve that he did n't have time -to find out just what was th' trouble with th' -double harness. Lots of men feel that way, but -they ain't got Pete's unlovely outspoken habit -of thought. We used to reckon mebby he -was n't as smart as th' rest of us, him bein' slow -an' blunderin' in his retorts. We 've played that -with coppers lots of times since, though. While -he ain't what you 'd call quick at retortin', his -retorts usually is heard by th' whole county. It -ain't every collar-galled husband that's got th' -gumption or smartness to jump th' minute th' -hat is lifted. Pete had.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's drivin' across our range, an' when th' -wind dies out sudden an' th' snow sifts down, -he 's just smart enough to get out his beddin' an' -wrap it around him till he looks like a bale of -cotton. An' even at that he 's near froze an' -lookin' for a place to make a stand when he feels -a bump. It's me, fallin' off my cayuse, against -his front wheel. He emerges from his beddin', -lifts me into th' waggin, puts most of his -blankets around me, an' stops. Knowin' he -can't save th' cayuses, he shoots 'em. That -means grub for us, anyhow, if we run short of -th' good stuff. Nobody but Pete could 'a' got -th' canvas off that waggin in such a gale, but he -did it. He busts th' arches an' slats off th' top -of th' waggin an' uses 'em for firewood. Th' -canvas he drapes over th' box, lettin' it hang -down on both sides to th' ground. An' in about -five minutes th' whole thing was covered over -with snow. Pete 's the strongest man we ever -saw, an' we 've seen some good ones. Wrastlin' -that canvas with stiff hands was a whole lot more -than what he done to Big Sandy up there on -Thunder Mesa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pete says I was dead when he grabbed me, -an' smellin' disgraceful of liquor. But th' first -thing I know is lookin' up in th' gloom at a -ceilin' that's right close to my head, an' at a -sorta rafter. That rafter gives me a shock. It -don't even touch th' ceilin', but runs along 'most -a foot below it. I close my eyes an' do a lot of -thinkin'. I remember freezin' to death, but -that's all. An' just then I hears a faint voice -say: 'He shore was dead.' I don't know Pete -then, or that he talked to hisself sometimes. An' -I reckon I was a li'l off in my head, at that. I -begin to wonder if he means me, an' purty soon -I 'm shore of it. An' don't I sympathize with -myself? I 'm dead an' gone somewhere; but no -preacher I ever heard ever described no place -like this. Then I smell smoke an' burnin' -meat—which gives me a clew to th' range I 'm on. -Mebby I 'm shelved in th' ice box, waitin' my -turn, or somethin'. I knew I 'd led a sinful life. -But there wasn't no use of rubbin' it in—it's -awful to be dead an' know it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Th' next time I opens my eyes I can't see -nothin'; but I can feel somethin' layin' alongside -of me. It's breathin' slow an' regular, an it -bothers me till I get th' idea all of a sudden. -It's another dead one, cut out of th' herd an' -shoved in my corral to wait for subsequent -events. I felt sorry for him, an' lay there tryin' -to figger it out, an' I 'm still figgerin' when it -starts to get light. Th' other feller grunts an' -sits up, bumpin' his head solid against that fool -rafter. No dead man that was shoved in a herd -consigned to heaven ever used such language, -which makes me all the shorer of where I am. -But if hell's hot we 've still got a long way to go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He sits there rubbin' his head an' cussin' -steadily, an' I 'm so moved by it that I -compliments him. He jumps an' bumps his head -again, an' looks at me close. 'D—d if you ain't -a husky corpse,' he says. That settles it. I -ain't crazy, like I was hopin', but I 'in dead. -'You an' me is on th' ragged edge of h—l,' he adds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'But who tipped </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> off?' I asks. 'They -just shoved me in here an' did n't tell me nothin' -at all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Crazy as th' devil,' he grunts, lookin' at me -harder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Yo 're a liar,' I replies. 'I may be dead, -but d—d if I 'm crazy!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'An' I don't blame you, either,' he mused, -sorrowful. 'Now you keep quiet till I gets -somethin' to eat,' an' he crawls into a li'l round -hole at th' other end of th' room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Purty soon I smell smoke again, an' after a -long time he comes back with some hot coffee an' -burned meat. I grab for th' grub, an' while -I 'm eatin' I demands to know where I am.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He laughs, real cheerful, an' tells me. I 'm -under his waggin, surrounded by canvas an' any -G—d's quantity of snow. Th' drift over us is -fifteen foot high, th' wind has died down, an' -it's still snowin' so hard he can't see twenty feet. -It is also away down below freezin'.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We stayed under that drift 'most three -weeks, livin' on raw meat after our firewood gave -out. We didn't suffer none from th' cold, -though, under all that snow an' with all th' -blankets we had. When it stopped snowin' we -discovered a drift shamefully high about a mile -northeast of us, an' from th' smoke comin' out -of it I knew it was th' bunkhouse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, to cut it short, it was. An' mebby -Buck wasn't glad to see me! He was worried -'most sick an' as soon as we could, we got cayuses -and started out to look for th' others, scared stiff -at what we expected to find."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused and was silent a moment. "But -only Ace was missin'," he added. "We found -him an' th' rustlers later, when th' snow went off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused again and shook his head. "It -shore was a miracle that we did n't go with 'em, -all of us, except Buck. Pete was so plumb -disgusted with travelin' in th' winter, an' had lost -his cayuses, that when Buck offers him Ace's -bunk he stays. An' he ain't never left us since. -Huh! Cold? That cub don't know nothin'—mebby -he will when he grows up, but I dunno, -at that. </span><em class="italics">Idyho</em><span>!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-drive"><span class="large">IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">THE DRIVE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Norther was a thing of the past, but it -left its mark on Buck Peters, whose -grimness of face told what the winter had been to -him. His daily rides over the range, the -reports of his men since that deadly storm had done -a great deal to lift the sagging weight that -rested on his shoulders; but he would not be sure -until the round-up supplied facts and figures.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That the losses had not been greater he gave -full credit to the valley with its arroyos, rock -walls, draws, heavily grassed range and groves -of timber; for the valley, checking the great -southward drift by its steep ridges of rock, -sheltered the herds in timber and arroyos and fed -them on the rich profusion of its grasses, which, -by some trick of the rushing winds, had been -whirled clean of snow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But over the cow-country, north, east, south -and west, where vast ranges were unprotected -against the whistling blasts from the north, the -losses had been stupendous, appalling, stunning. -Outfits had been driven on and on before the -furious winds, sleepy and apathetic, drifting -steadily southward in the white, stinging shroud -to a drowsy death. Whole herds, blindly -moving before the wind, left their weaker units in -constantly growing numbers to mark the trail, -and at last lay down to a sleep eternal. And -astonishing and incredible were the distances -traveled by some of those herds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Following the Norther came another menace -and one which easily might surpass the worst -efforts of the blizzard. Warm winds blew -steadily, a hot sun glared down on the snow-covered -plain and then came torrents of rain which -continued for days, turning the range into a huge -expanse of water and mud and swelling the -water-courses with turgid floods that swirled and roared -above their banks. Should this be quickly -followed by cold, even the splendid valley would -avail nothing. Ice, forming over the grasses, -would prove as deadly as a pestilence; the cattle, -already weakened by the hardships of the -Norther, and not having the instinct to break -through the glassy sheet and feed on the grass -underneath, would search in vain for food, and -starve to death. The week that followed the -cessation of the rains started gray hairs on the -foreman's head; but a warm, constant sun and -warm winds dried off the water before the return -of freezing weather. The herds were saved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Relieved, Buck reviewed the situation. The -previous summer had seen such great northern -drives to the railroad shipping points in Kansas -that prices fell until the cattlemen refused to -sell. Rather than drive home again, the great -herds were wintered on the Kansas ranges, ready -to be hurled on the market when Spring came -with better prices. Many ranches, mortgaged -heavily to buy cattle, had been on the verge of -bankruptcy, hoping feverishly for better prices -the following year. Buck had taken advantage -of the situation to stock his ranch at a cost far -less than he had dared to dream. Then came -the Norther and in the three weeks of devastating -cold and high winds the Kansas ranges were -swept clean of cattle, and even the ranges in the -South were badly crippled. Knowing this, Buck -also knew that the following Spring would show -record high prices. If he had the cattle he could -clean up a fortune for his ranch; and if his herd -was the first big one to reach the railroad at -Sandy Creek it would practically mean a bonus -on every cow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Under the long siege of uncertainty his -impatience smashed through and possessed him as a -fever and he ordered the calf round-up three -weeks earlier than it ever had been held on the -ranch. There was no need of urging his men to -the task—they, like himself, sprang to the call -like springs freed from a restraining weight, and -the work went on in a fever of haste. And he -took his place on the firing line and worked even -harder than his outfit of fanatics.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One day shortly after the work began a -stranger rode up to him and nodded cheerfully. -"Li'l early, ain't you?" Buck grunted in reply -and sent Skinny off at top speed to close a threatened -gap in the lengthy driving line. "Goin' to -git 'em on th' trail early this year?" persisted the -stranger. Buck, swayed by some swift intuition, -changed his reply. "Oh, I dunno; I 'm mainly -anxious to see just what that storm did. An' I -hate th' calf burnin' so much I allus like to get -it over quick." He shouted angrily at the cook -and waved his arms frantically to banish the -chuck wagon. "He can make more trouble with -that waggin than anybody I ever saw," he -snorted. "Get out of there, you fool!" he yelled, -dashing off to see his words obeyed. The cook, -grinning cheerfully at his foreman's language -and heat, forthwith chose a spot that was not -destined to be the center of the cut-out herd. -And when Buck again thought of the stranger he -saw a black dot moving toward the eastern skyline.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crowded days rolled on, measured full -from dawn to dark, each one of them a panting, -straining, trying ordeal. Worn out, the horses -were turned back into the temporary corral or to -graze under the eyes of the horse wranglers, and -fresh ones took up their work; and woe unto the -wranglers if the supply fell below the demand. -For the tired men there was no relief, only a -shifting in the kind of work they did, and they drove -themselves with grave determination, their iron -wills overruling their aching bodies. First came -the big herds in the valley; then, sweeping north, -they combed the range to the northern line in -one grand, mad fury of effort that lasted day -after day until the tally man joyously threw -away his chewed pencil and gladly surrendered -the last sheet to the foreman. The first half of -the game was over. Gone as if it were a -nightmare was the confusion of noise and dust and -cows that hid a remarkable certainty of method. -But as if to prove it not a dream, four thousand -cows were held in three herds on the great range, -in charge of the extra men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck, leading the regular outfit from the north -line and toward the bunkhouse, added the figures -of the last tally sheet to the totals he had in a -little book, and smiled with content. Behind -him, cheerful as fools, their bodies racking with -weariness, their faces drawn and gaunt, knowing -that their labors were not half over, rode the -outfit, exchanging chaff and banter in an effort to -fool themselves into the delusion that they were -fresh and "chipper." Nearing the bunkhouse -they cheered lustily as they caught sight of the -hectic cook laboring profanely with two balking -pintos that had backed his wagon half over the -edge of a barranca and then refused to pull it -back again. Cookie's reply, though not a cheer, -was loud and pregnant with feeling. To think -that he had driven those two animals for the last -two weeks from one end of the ranch to the other -without a mishap, and then have them balance -him and his wagon on the crumbling edge of a -twenty-foot drop when not a half mile from the -bunkhouse, thus threatening the loss of the -wagon and all it contained and the mangling of -his sacred person! And to make it worse, here -came a crowd of whooping idiots to feast upon -his discomfiture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The outfit, slowing so as not to frighten the -devilish pintos and start them backing again, -drew near; and suddenly the air became filled -with darting ropes, one of which settled -affectionately around Cookie's apoplectic neck. In -no time the strangling, furious dough-king was -beyond the menace of the crumbling bank, flat -on his back in the wagon, where he had managed -to throw himself to escape the whistling hoofs -that quickly turned the dashboard into -matchwood. When he managed to get the rope from -his neck he arose, unsteady with rage, and -choked as he tried to speak before the grinning -and advising outfit. Before he could get -command over his tongue the happy bunch wheeled -and sped on its way, shrieking with mirth -unholy. They had saved him from probable death, -for Cookie was too obstinate to have jumped -from the wagon; but they not only forfeited all -right to thanks and gratitude, but deserved -horrible deaths for the conversation they had so -audibly carried on while they worked out the -cook's problem. And their departing words and -gestures made homicide justifiable and a duty. -It was in this frame of mind that Cookie watched -them go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck, emerging from the bunkhouse in time -to see the rescue, leaned against the door and -laughed as he had not laughed for one heart-breaking -winter. Drying his eyes on the back of -his hand, he looked at the bouncing, happy crowd -tearing southward with an energy of arms and -legs and lungs that seemed a miracle after the -strain of the round-up. Just then a strange -voice made him wheel like a flash, and he saw -Billy Williams sitting solemnly on his horse near -the corner of the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hullo, Williams," Buck grunted, with no -welcoming warmth in his voice. "What th' devil -brings </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> up here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want a job," replied Billy. The two, while -never enemies nor interested in any mutual -disagreements, had never been friends. They never -denied a nodding acquaintance, nor boasted of it. -"That Norther shore raised h—l. There 's ten -men for every job, where I came from."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The foreman, with that quick decision that was -his in his earlier days, replied crisply. "It's -your'n. Fifty a month, to start."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Keno. Lemme chuck my war-bag through -that door an' I'm ready," smiled Billy. He -believed he would like this man when he knew him -better. "I thought th' Diamond Bar, over east -a hundred mile, had weathered th' storm lucky. -You got 'em beat. They 're movin' heaven an' -earth to get a herd on the trail, but they did n't -have no job for </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>," he laughed, flushing -slightly. "Sam Crawford owns it," he explained -naïvely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck laughed outright. "I reckon you did n't -have much show with Sam, after that li'l trick -you worked on him in Fenton. So Sam is in -this country? How are they fixed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They aims to shove three thousan' east right -soon. It's fancy prices for th' first herd that -gets to Sandy Creek," he offered. "I heard -they 're havin' lots of wet weather along th' -Comanchee; mebby Sam 'll have trouble a-plenty -gettin' his herd acrost. Cows is plumb -aggervatin' when it comes to crossin' rivers," he -grinned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck nodded. "See that V openin' on th' sky -line?" he asked, pointing westward. "Ride -for it till you see th' herd. Help 'em with it. -We 'll pick it up t'morrow." He turned on his -heel and entered the house, grave with a new -worry. He had not known that there was a -ranch where Billy had said the Diamond Bar was -located; and a hundred miles handicap meant -much in a race to Sandy Creek. Crawford was -sure to drive as fast as he dared. He was glad -that Billy had mentioned it, and the wet weather -along the Comanchee—Billy already had earned -his first month's pay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All that day and the next the consolidation of -the three herds and the preparation for the drive -went on. Sweeping up from the valley the two -thousand three- and four-year-olds met and -joined the thousand that waited between Little -Timber and Three Rocks; and by nightfall the -three herds were one by the addition of the -thousand head from Big Coulee. Four thousand -head of the best cattle on the ranch spent the -night within gunshot of the bunkhouse and -corrals on Snake Creek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Buck, returning from the big herd, smiled as -he passed the chuck-wagon and heard Cookie's -snores, and went on, growing serious all too -quickly. At the bunkhouse he held a short -consultation with his regular outfit and then -returned to the herd again while his drive crew -turned eagerly to their bunks. Breakfast was -eaten by candle light and when the eastern sky -faded into a silver gray Skinny Thompson -vaulted into the saddle and loped eastward -without a backward glance. The sounds of his -going scarcely had died out before Hopalong, -relieved of the responsibilities of trail boss, -shouldered others as weighty and rode into the -north-east with Lanky at his side. Behind him, under -charge of Red, the herd started on its long and -weary journey to Sandy Creek, every man of -the outfit so imbued with the spirit of the race -that even with its hundred miles' advantage the -Diamond Bar could not afford to waste an hour -if it hoped to win.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Out of the side of a verdant hill, whispering -and purling, flowed a small stream and shyly -sought the crystal depths of a rock-bound pool -before gaining courage enough to flow gently -over the smooth granite lip and scurry down the -gentle slope of the arroyo. To one side of it -towered a splinter of rock, slender and gray, -washed clean by the recent rains. To the south -of it lay a baffling streak a little lighter than the -surrounding grass lands. It was, perhaps, a -quarter of a mile wide and ended only at the -horizon. This faint band was the Dunton trail, -not used enough to show the strong characteristics -of the depressed bands found in other parts -of the cow-country. If followed it would lead -one to Dunton's Ford on the Comanchee, forty -miles above West Bend, where the Diamond Bar -aimed to cross the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The shadow of the pinnacle drew closer to its -base and had crossed the pool when Skinny -Thompson rode slowly up the near bank of the -ravine, his eyes fixed smilingly on the splinter of -rock. He let his mount nuzzle and play with -the pool for a moment before stripping off the -saddle and turning the animal loose to graze. -Taking his rifle in the hope of seeing game, he -went up to the top of the hill, glanced westward -and then turned and gazed steadily into the -northeast, sweeping slowly over an arc of -thirty degrees. He stood so for several -minutes and then grunted with satisfaction and -returned to the pool. He had caught sight of a -black dot far away on the edge of the skyline -that split into two parts and showed a sidewise -drift. Evidently his friends would be on time. -Of the herd he had seen no sign, which was what -he had expected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When at last he heard hoofbeats he arose lazily -and stretched, chiding himself for falling asleep, -and met his friends as they turned into sight -around the bend of the hill. "Reckoned you -might 'a' got lost," he grinned sleepily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"G'wan!" snorted Lanky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What'd you find?" eagerly demanded Hopalong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three thousan' head on th' West Bend trail -five days ahead of us," replied Skinny. "Ol' -Sam is drivin' hard." He paused a moment. -"Acts like he knows we 're after him. Anyhow, -I saw that feller that visited us on th' third day -of th' round-up. So I reckon Sam knows."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanky grinned. "He won't drive so hard -later. I 'd like to see him when he sees th' -Comanchee! Bet it's a lake south of Dunton's -'cordin' to what we found. But it ain't goin' to -bother us a whole lot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong nodded, dismounted and drew a -crude map in the sand of the trail. Skinny -watched it, grave and thoughtful until, all at -once, he understood. His sudden burst of -laughter startled his companions and they -exchanged foolish grins. It appeared that from -Dunton's Ford north, in a distance of forty miles, -the Comanchee was practically born. So many -feeders, none of them formidable, poured into it -that in that distance it attained the dignity of a -river. Hopalong's plan was to drive off at a -tangent running a little north from the regular -trail and thus cross numerous small streams in -preference to going on straight and facing the -swollen Comanchee at Dunton's Ford. As the -regular trail turned northward when not far -from Sandy Creek they were not losing time. -Laughing gaily they mounted and started west -for the herd which toiled toward them many -miles away. Thanks to the forethought that had -prompted their scouting expedition the new trail -was picked out in advance and there would be no -indecision on the drive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eighty miles to the south lay the fresh trail -of the Diamond Bar herd, and five days' drive -eastward on it, facing the water-covered lowlands -at West Bend, Sam Crawford held his herd, -certain that the river would fall rapidly in the next -two days. It was the regular ford, and the best -on the river. The water did fall, just enough to -lure him to stay; but, having given orders at -dark on the second night for an attempt at -crossing at daylight the next morning, he was amazed -when dawn showed him the river was back to its -first level.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sam was American born, but affected things -English and delighted in spelling "labor" and -like words with a "u." He hated hair chaps and -maintained that the gun-play of the West was -mythical and existed only in the minds of effete -Easterners. Knowing that, it was startling to -hear him tell of Plummer, Hickock, Roberts, -Thompson and a host of other gunmen who had -splotched the West with blood. Not only did -every man of that section pack a gun, but -Crawford, himself, packed one, thus proving himself -either a malicious liar or an imbecile. He acted -as though the West belonged to him and that he -was the arbiter of its destiny and its chosen -historian—which made him troublesome on the -great, free ranges. Only that his pretensions and -his crabbed, irascible, childish temper made him -ludicrous he might have been taken seriously, to -his sorrow. Failing miserably at law, he fled -from such a precarious livelihood, beset with a -haunting fear that he had lost his grip, to an -inherited ranch. This fear that pursued him -turned him into a carping critic of those who -excelled him in most things, except in fits of lying -about the West as it existed at that time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he found that the river was over the -lowlands again he became furious and, carried -away by rage, shouted down the wiser counsel of -his clear-headed night boss and ordered the herd -into the water. Here and there desperate, -wild-eyed steers wheeled and dashed back through the -cordon of riders, their numbers constantly -growing as the panic spread. The cattle in the front -ranks, forced into the swirling stream by the -pressure from the rear, swam with the current -and clambered out below, adding to the -confusion. Steers fought throughout the press and -suddenly, out of the right wing of the herd, a -dozen crazed animals dashed out in a bunch for -the safety of the higher ground; and after them -came the herd, an irresistible avalanche of -maddened beef. It was not before dark that they -were rounded up into a nervous, panicky herd -once more. The next morning they were started -north along the river, to try again at -Dunton's Ford, which they reached in three days, -and where another attempt at crossing the river -proved in vain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile the Bar-20 herd pushed on steadily -with no confusion. It crossed the West Run -one noon and the upper waters of the Little -Comanchee just before dark on the same day. -Next came East Run, Pawnee Creek and Ten -Mile Creek, none of them larger than the stream -the cattle were accustomed to back on the ranch. -Another day's drive brought them to the west -branch of the Comanchee itself, the largest of all -the rivers they would meet. Here they were -handled cautiously and "nudged" across with -such care that a day was spent in the work. The -following afternoon the east branch held them up -until the next day and then, with a clear trail, -they were sent along on the last part of the long -journey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Sam Crawford, forced to keep on driving -north along the Little Comanchee, saw that -wide, fresh trail, he barely escaped apoplexy and -added the finishing touches to the sullenness of -his outfit. Seeing the herd across, he gave -orders for top speed and drove as he never had -driven before; and when the last river had been -left behind he put the night boss in charge of the -cattle and rode on ahead to locate his rivals of -the drive. Three days later, when he returned -to his herd, he was in a towering fury and talked -constantly of his rights and an appeal to law, -and so nagged his men that mutiny stalked in -his shadow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the Bar-20 herd was passing to the -south of the little village of Depau, Hopalong -turned back along the trail to find the Diamond -Bar herd. So hard had Sam pushed on that he -was only two days' drive behind Red and his -outfit when Hopalong rode smilingly into the -Diamond Bar camp. He was talking pleasantly of -shop to some of the Diamond Bar punchers when -Sam dashed up and began upbraiding him and -threatening dire punishment. Hopalong, -maintaining a grave countenance, took the lacing -meekly and humbly as he winked at the grinning -punchers. Finally, after exasperating Sam to a -point but one degree removed from explosion, -he bowed cynically, said "so-long" to the friendly -outfit and loped away toward his friends. Sam, -choking with rage, berated his punchers for -not having thrown out the insulting visitor and -commanded more speed, which was impossible. -Reporting to Red the proximity of their rivals, -Hopalong fell in line and helped drive the herd -a little faster. The cattle were in such condition -from the easy traveling of the last week that -they could easily stand the pace if Crawford's -herd could. So the race went on, Red keeping -the same distance ahead day after day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came the night when Sandy Creek lay -but two days' drive away. A storm had threatened -since morning and the first lightning of the -drive was seen. The cattle were mildly restless -when Hopalong rode in at midnight and he was -cheerfully optimistic. He was also very much -awake, and after trying in vain to get to sleep -he finally arose and rode back along the trail -toward the stragglers, which Jimmy and Lanky -were holding a mile away. Red had pushed on -to the last minute of daylight and Lanky had -decided to hold the stragglers instead of driving -them up to the main herd so they would start -even with it the following morning. It was -made up of the cattle that had found the drive -too much for them and was smaller than the -outfit had dared to hope for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong had just begun to look around for -the herd when it passed him with sudden uproar. -Shouting to a horseman who rode furiously past, -he swung around and raced after him, desperately -anxious to get in front of the stampede to -try to check it before it struck the main herd and -made the disaster complete. For the next hour -he was in a riot of maddened cattle and shaved -death many times by the breadth of a hand. He -could hear Jimmy and Lanky shouting in the -black void, now close and now far away. Then -the turmoil gradually ceased and the remnant of -the herd paused, undecided whether to stop or -go on. He flung himself at it and by driving -cleverly managed to start a number of cows to -milling, which soon had the rest following suit. -The stampede was over. A cursing blot emerged -from the darkness and hailed. It was Lanky, -coldly ferocious. He had not heard Jimmy for -a long time and feared that the boy might be -lying out on the black plain, trampled into a -shapeless mass of flesh. One stumble in front of the -charging herd would have been sufficient.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Daylight disclosed the missing Jimmy -hobbling toward the breakfast fire at the cook -wagon. He was bruised and bleeding and -covered with dirt, his clothes ripped and covered -with mud; and every bone and muscle in his body -was alive with pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Diamond Bar's second squad had ridden -in to breakfast when a horseman was seen -approaching at a leisurely lope. Sam, cursing -hotly, instinctively fumbled at the gun he wore -at his thigh in defiance to his belief concerning -the wearing of guns. He blinked anxiously as -the puncher stopped at the wagon and smiled a -heavy-eyed salutation. The night boss emerged -from the shelter of the wagon and grinned a -sheepish welcome. "Well, Cassidy, you fellers -got th' trail somehow. We was some surprised -when we hit yore trail. How you makin' it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, up to last night," replied -Hopalong, shaking hands with the night boss. "Got -a match, Barnes?" he asked, holding up an -unlighted cigarette. They talked of things -connected with the drive and Hopalong cautiously -swung the conversation around to mishaps, -mentioning several catastrophes of past years. -After telling of a certain stampede he had once -seen, he turned to Barnes and asked a blunt -question. "What would you do to anybody as -stampeded yore stragglers within a mile of th' -main herd on a stormy night?" The answer was -throaty and rumbling. "Why, shoot him, I -reckon." The others intruded their ideas and -Crawford squirmed, his hand seeking his gun -under the pretense of tightening his belt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong arose and went to his horse, where -a large bundle of canvas was strapped behind the -saddle. He loosened it and unrolled it on the -ground. "Ever see this afore, boys?" he asked, -stepping back. Barnes leaped to his feet with -an ejaculation of surprise and stared at the -canvas. "Where'd you git it?" he demanded. -"That's our old wagon cover!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong, ignoring Crawford, looked around -the little group and smiled grimly. "Well, last -night our stragglers was stampeded. Lanky -told me he saw somethin' gray blow past him in -th' darkness, an' then th' herd started. We -managed to turn it from th' trail an' so it did n't set -off our main herd. Jimmy was near killed—well, -you know what it is to ride afore stampeded -cows. I found this cover blowed agin' a li'l -clump of trees, an' when I sees yore mark, I -reckoned I ought to bring it back." He dug -into his pocket and brought out a heavy clasp -knife. "I just happened to see this not far from -where th' herd started from, so I reckoned I 'd -return it, too." He held it out to Barnes, who -took it with an oath and wheeled like a flash to -face his employer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crawford was backing toward the wagon, his -hand resting on the butt of his gun, and a -whiteness of face told of the fear that gripped him. -"I 'll take my time, right now," growled Barnes. -"D—d if I works another day for a low-lived -coyote that 'd do a thing like that!" The -punchers behind him joined in and demanded their -wages. Hopalong, still smiling, waved his hand -and spoke. "Don't leave him with all these cows -on his hands, out here on th' range. If you quits -him, wait till you get to Sandy Creek. He ain't -no man, he ain't; he 's a nasty lil brat of a kid -that couldn't never grow up into a man. So, -that bein' true, he ain't goin' to get handled like -a man. I 'm goin' to lick him, 'stead of shootin' -him like he was a man. You know," he smiled, -glancing around the little circle, "us cowpunchers -don't never carry guns. We don't swear, nor -wear chaps, even if all of us has got 'em on right -now. We say 'please' an' 'thank you' an' never -get mad. Not never wearin' a gun I can't shoot -him; but, by G—d, I can lick him th' worst -he's ever been licked, an' I 'm goin' to do it right -now." He wheeled to start after the still-backing -cowman, and leaped sideways as a cloud of -smoke swirled around his hips. Crawford -screamed with fear and pain as his Colt tore loose -from his fingers and dropped near the wheel of -the wagon. Terror gripped him and made him -incapable of flight. Who was this man, </span><em class="italics">what</em><span> -was he, when he could draw and fire with such -speed and remarkable accuracy? Crawford's -gun had been half raised before the other had -seen it. And before his legs could perform one -of their most cherished functions the limping -cowpuncher was on him, doing his best to make good -his promise. The other half of the Diamond Bar -drive crew, attracted by the commotion at the -chuck wagon, rode in with ready guns, saw their -friends making no attempt at interference, asked -a few terse questions and, putting up their guns, -forthwith joined the circle of interested and -pleased spectators to root for the limping redhead.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 83%" id="figure-59"> -<span id="crawford-s-colt-tore-loose-from-his-fingers-and-dropped-near-the-wheel-of-the-wagon"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Crawford's Colt tore loose from his fingers and dropped near the wagon wheel" src="images/img-249.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Crawford's Colt tore loose from his fingers and dropped near the wagon wheel</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Red, back at the Bar-20 wagon, inquired of -Cookie the whereabouts of Hopalong. Cookie, -still smarting under Jimmy's galling fire of -language, grunted ignorance and a wish. Red -looked at him, scowling. "You can talk to th' -Kid like that, mebby; but you get a civil tongue -in yore head when any of us grown-ups ask -questions." He turned on his heel, looked -searchingly around the plain and mounting, returned -to the herd, perplexed and vexed. As he left the -camp, Jimmy hobbled around the wagon and -stared after him. "Kid!" he snorted. "Grown-ups!" -he sneered. "Huh!" He turned and -regarded Cookie evilly. "Yo 're gonna get a -good lickin' when I get so I can move better," he -promised. Cookie lifted the red flannel dish-rag -out of the pan and regarded it thoughtfully. -"You better wait," he agreed pleasantly. "You -can't run now. I 'm honin' for to drape this mop -all over yore wall-eyed face; but I can wait." He -sighed and went back to work. "Wish Red -would shove you in with th' rest of th' cripples -back yonder, an' get you off'n my frazzled -nerves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy shook his head sorrowfully and limped -around the wagon again, where he resumed his -sun bath. He dozed off and was surprised to be -called for dinner. As he arose, grunting and -growling, he chanced to look westward, and his -shout apprised his friends of the return of the -missing red-head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong dismounted at the wagon and -grinned cheerfully, despite the suspicious marks -on his face. Giving an account of events as they -occurred at the Diamond Bar chuck wagon, he -wound up with: "Needn't push on so hard, -Red. Crawford's herd is due to stay right where -it is an' graze peaceful for a week. I heard -Barnes give th' order before I left. How's -things been out here while I was away?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red glared at him, ready to tell his opinion of -reckless fools that went up against a gun-packing -crowd alone when his friends had never been -known to refuse to back up one of their outfit. -The words hung on his lips as he waited for a -chance to launch them. But when that chance -came he had been disarmed by the cheerfulness -of his happy friend. "Hoppy," he said, trying -to be severe, "yo 're nothing' but a crazy, d—d -fool. But what did they say when you started -for huffy Sam like that?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-hold-up"><span class="large">X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">THE HOLD-UP</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The herd delivered at Sandy Creek had -traveled only half way, for the remaining -part of the journey would be on the railroad. -The work of loading the cars was fast, furious -fun to anyone who could find humor enough in -his make-up to regard it so. Then came a long, -wearying ride for the five men picked from the -drive outfit to attend to the cattle on the way -to the cattle pens of the city. Their work at -last done, they "saw the sights" and were now -returning to Sandy Creek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The baggage smoking-car reeked with strong -tobacco, the clouds of smoke shifting with the -air currents, and dimly through the haze could -be seen several men. Three of these were -playing cards near the baggage-room door, while two -more lounged in a seat half way down the aisle -and on the other side of the car. Across from -the card-players, reading a magazine, was a fat -man, and near the water cooler was a dyspeptic-looking -individual who was grumbling about the -country through which he was passing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first five, as their wearing apparel -proclaimed, were not of the kind usually found on -trains, not the drummer, the tourist, or the -farmer. Their heads were covered with heavy -sombreros, their coats were of thick, black -woolens, and their shirts were also of wool. Around -the throat of each was a large handkerchief, -knotted at the back; their trousers were -protected by "chaps," of which three were of -goatskin. The boots were tight-fitting, narrow, and -with high heels, and to them were strapped -heavy spurs. Around the waist, hanging -loosely from one hip, each wore a wide belt -containing fifty cartridges in the loops, and -supporting a huge Colt's revolver, which rested -against the thigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were happy and were trying to sing but, -owing to different tastes, there was noticeable -a lack of harmony. "Oh Susanna" never did -go well with "Annie Laurie," and as for -"Dixie," it was hopelessly at odds with the other -two. But they were happy, exuberantly so, for -they had enjoyed their relaxation in the city -and now were returning to the station where -their horses were waiting to carry them over the -two hundred miles which lay between their ranch -and the nearest railroad-station.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a change the city had been pleasant, but -after they had spent several days there it lost -its charm and would not have been acceptable -to them even as a place in which to die. They -had spent their money, smoked "top-notcher" -cigars, seen the "shows" and feasted each as his -fancy dictated, and as behooved cowpunchers -with money in their pockets. Now they were -glad that every hour reduced the time of their -stay in the smoky, jolting, rocking train, for -they did not like trains, and this train was -particularly bad. So they passed the hours as best -they might and waited impatiently for the stop -at Sandy Creek, where they had left their -horses. Their trip to the "fence country" was -now a memory, and they chafed to be again in -the saddle on the open, wind-swept range, where -miles were insignificant and the silence soothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fat man, despairing of reading, watched -the card-players and smiled in good humor as he -listened to their conversation, while the dyspeptic, -nervously twisting his newspaper, wished that -he were at his destination. The baggage-room -door opened and the conductor looked down on -the card-players and grinned. Skinny moved -over in the seat to make room for the genial conductor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down, Simms, an' take a hand," he -invited. Laughter arose continually and the fat -man joined in it, leaning forward more closely -to watch the play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanky tossed his cards face down on the board -and grinned at the onlooker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy shore bluffs more on a varigated flush -than any man I ever saw."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Call him once in a while and he 'll get cured -of it," laughed the fat man, bracing himself as -the train swung around a sharp turn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He 's too smart," growled Billy Williams. -"He tried that an' found I did n't have no -varigated flushes. Come on, Lanky, if yo 're -playing cards, put up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farther down the car, their feet resting easily -on the seat in front of them, Hopalong and Red -puffed slowly at their large, black cigars and -spoke infrequently, both idly watching the plain -flit by in wearying sameness, and both tired and -lazy from doing nothing but ride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blast th' cars, anyhow," grunted Hopalong, -but he received no reply, for his companion was -too disgusted to say anything.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A startling, sudden increase in the roar of the -train and a gust of hot, sulphurous smoke -caused Hopalong to look up at the brakeman, -who came down the swaying aisle as the door slammed shut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Phew!" he exclaimed, genially. "Why in -thunder don't you fellows smoke up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong blew a heavy ring, stretched -energetically and grinned: "Much farther to Sandy -Creek?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you don't get off for three hours yet," -laughed the brakeman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's shore a long time to ride this bronc -train," moodily complained Red as the singing -began again. "She shore pitches a-plenty," he -added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The train-hand smiled and seated himself on -the arm of the front seat:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it might be worse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not this side of hades," replied Red with -decision, watching his friend, who was slapping -the cushions to see the dust fly out: "Hey, let -up on that, will you! There's dust a-plenty -without no help from you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The brakeman glanced at the card-players and -then at Hopalong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do your friends always sing like that?" he -inquired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mostly, but sometimes it's worse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the level?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shore enough; they're singing 'Dixie,' now. -It's their best song."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That ain't 'Dixie!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes it is: that is, most of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, what's the rest of it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, them's variations of their own," -remarked Red, yawning and stretching. "Just -wait till they start something sentimental; -you 'll shore weep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope they stick to the variations. Say, you -must be a pretty nifty gang on the shoot, ain't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, some," answered Hopalong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish you fellers had been aboard with us -one day about a month ago. We was the -wrong end of a hold-up, and we got cleaned out -proper, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' how many of 'em did you get?" asked -Hopalong quickly, sitting bolt upright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fat man suddenly lost his interest in the -card-game and turned an eager ear to the brakeman, -while the dyspeptic stopped punching holes -in his time-card and listened. The card-players -glanced up and then returned to their game, but -they, too, were listening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The brakeman was surprised: "How many -did we get! Gosh! we didn't get none! They -was six to our five."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How many cards did you draw, you Piute?" -asked Lanky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None of yore business; I ain't dealing, an' I -would n't tell you if I was," retorted Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I can ask, can't I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—you can, an' did."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You didn't get none?" cried Hopalong, -doubting his ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should say not!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' they owned th' whole train?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They did."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red laughed. "Th' cleaning-up must have -been sumptuous an' elevating."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Every time I holds threes he allus has -better," growled Lanky to Simms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On th' level, we couldn't do a thing," the -brakeman ran on. "There 's a water tank a little -farther on, and they must 'a' climbed aboard -there when we stopped to connect. When we -got into the gulch the train slowed down and -stopped and I started to get up to go out and -see what was the matter; but I saw that when I -looked down a gun-barrel. The man at the -throttle end of it told me to put up my hands, -but they were up as high then as I could get 'em -without climbin' on the top of the seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't you listen and play at th' same time?" -Lanky asked Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wasn't countin' on takin' the gun away -from him," the brakeman continued, "for I was -too busy watchin' for the slug to come out of -the hole. Pretty soon somebody on the outside -whistled and then another feller come in the -car; he was the one that did the cleanin' up. -All this time there had been a lot of shootin' -outside, but now it got worse. Then I heard -another whistle and the engine puffed up the track, -and about five minutes later there was a big -explosion, and then our two robbers backed out of -the car among the rocks shootin' back regardless. -They busted a lot of windows."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' you did n't git none," grumbled Hopalong, -regretfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When we got to the express-car, what had -been pulled around the turn," continued the -brakeman, not heeding the interruption, "we -found a wreck. And we found the engineer -and fireman standin' over the express-messenger, -too scared to know he would n't come back -no more. The car had been blowed up with -dynamite, and his fighting soul went with it. -He never knowed he was licked."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' nobody tried to help him!" Hopalong -exclaimed, wrathfully now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nobody wanted to die with him," replied the -brakeman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," cried the fat man, suddenly reaching -for his valise, "I 'd like to see anybody try -to hold me up!" Saying which he brought forth -a small revolver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You 'd be praying out of your bald spot -about that time," muttered the brakeman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong and Red turned, perceived the -weapon, and then exchanged winks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a fine shootin'-iron, stranger," -gravely remarked Hopalong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You bet it is!" purred the owner, proudly. -"I paid six dollars for that gun."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lanky smothered a laugh and his friend -grinned broadly: "I reckon that'd kill a -man—if you stuck it in his ear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pshaw!" snorted the dyspeptic, scornfully. -"You wouldn't have time to get it out of that -grip. Think a train-robber is going to let you -unpack? Why don't you carry it in your -hip-pocket, where you can get at it quickly?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were smiles at the stranger's belief in -the hip-pocket fallacy but no one commented -upon it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was n't there no passengers aboard when -you was stuck up?" Lanky asked the conductor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but you can't count passengers in on a -deal like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong looked around aggressively: -"We 're passengers, ain't we?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You certainly are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if any misguided maverick gets it into -his fool head to stick </span><em class="italics">us</em><span> up, you see what -happens. Don't you know th' fellers outside have -all th' worst o' th' deal?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They have not!" cried the brakeman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They 've got all the best of it," asserted the -conductor emphatically. "I 've been inside, and -I know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Best nothing!" cried Hopalong. "They are -on th' ground, watching a danger-line over a -hundred yards long, full of windows and doors. -Then they brace th' door of a car full of people. -While they climb up the steps they can't see -inside, an' then they go an' stick their heads in -plain sight. It's an even break who sees th' -other first, with th' men inside training their -guns on th' glass in th' door!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Darned if you ain't right!" enthusiastically -cried the fat man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong laughed: "It all depends on th' -men inside. If they ain't used to handling guns, -'course they won't try to fight. We 've been in -so many gun-festivals that we would n't stop to -think. If any coin-collector went an' stuck his -ugly face against th' glass in that door he 'd turn -a back-flip off 'n th' platform before he knowed -he was hit. Is there any chance for a stick-up -to-day, d'y think?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't tell," replied the brakeman. "But -this is about the time we have the section-camps' -pay on board," he said, going into the baggage -end of the car.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Simms leaned over close to Skinny. "It's on -this train now, and I 'm worried to death about -it. I wish we were at Sandy Creek."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you go to worryin' none, then," the -puncher replied. "It 'll get to Sandy Creek all -right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong looked out of the window again and -saw that there was a gradual change in the -nature of the scenery, for the plain was becoming -more broken each succeeding mile. Small -woods occasionally hurtled past and banks of -cuts flashed by like mottled yellow curtains, -shutting off the view. Scrub timber stretched -away on both sides, a billowy sea of green, and -miniature valleys lay under the increasing -number of trestles twisting and winding toward a -high horizon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong yawned again: "Well, it's none -o' our funeral. If they let us alone I don't -reckon we 'll take a hand, not even to bust up -this monotony."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red laughed derisively: "Oh, no! Why, -you could n't sit still nohow with a fight going -on, an' you know it. An' if it's a stick-up! Wow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who gave you any say in this?" demanded -his friend. "Anyhow, you ain't no angel o' -peace, not nohow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mebby they 'll plug yore new sombrero," -laughed Red.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong felt of the article in question: "If -any two-laigged wolf plugs my war-bonnet he 'll -be some sorry, an' so 'll his folks," he asserted, -rising and going down the aisle for a drink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red turned to the brakeman, who had just -returned: "Say," he whispered, "get off at th' -next stop, shoot off a gun, an' yell, just for fun. -Go ahead, it 'll be better 'n a circus."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nix on the circus, says I," hastily replied -the other. "I ain't looking for no excitement, -an' I ain't paid to amuse th' passengers. I hope -we don't even run over a track-torpedo this side -of Sandy Creek."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong returned, and as he came even with -them the train slowed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are we stopping for?" he asked, his -hand going to his holster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To take on water; the tank 's right ahead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have you got?" asked Billy, ruffling his cards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None of yore business," replied Lanky. -"You call when you gets any curious."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, th' devil!" yawned Hopalong, leaning -back lazily. "I shore wish I was on my cayuse -pounding leather on th' home trail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me, too," grumbled Red, staring out of the -window. "Well, we 're moving again. It -won't be long now before we gets out of this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The card-game continued, the low-spoken -terms being interspersed with casual comment; -Hopalong exchanged infrequent remarks with -Red, while the brakeman and conductor stared -out of the same window. There was noticeable -an air of anxiety, and the fat man tried to read -his magazine with his thoughts far from the -printed page. He read and re-read a single -paragraph several times without gaining the -slightest knowledge of what it meant, while the -dyspeptic passenger fidgeted more and more in -his seat, like one sitting on hot coals, anxious and -alert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We 're there now," suddenly remarked the -conductor, as the bank of a cut blanked out the -view. "It was right here where it happened; -the turn's farther on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How many cards did you draw, Skinny?" -asked Lanky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three; drawin' to a straight flush," laughed -the dealer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here 's the turn! We 're through all right," -exclaimed the brakeman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly there was a rumbling bump, a -screeching of air-brakes and the grinding and -rattle of couplings and pins as the train slowed -down and stopped with a suddenness that -snapped the passengers forward and back. The -conductor and brakeman leaped to their feet, -where the latter stood quietly during a moment -of indecision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shot was heard and the conductor's hand, -raised quickly to the whistle-rope sent blast after -blast shrieking over the land. A babel of -shouting burst from the other coaches and, as -the whistle shrieked without pause, a shot was -heard close at hand and the conductor reeled -suddenly and sank into a seat, limp and silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the first jerk of the train the card-players -threw the board from across their knees, scattering -the cards over the floor, and crouching, gained -the center of the aisle, intently peering through -the windows, their Colts ready for instant use. -Hopalong and Red were also in the aisle, and -when the conductor had reeled Hopalong's Colt -exploded and the man outside threw up his arms -and pitched forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good boy, Hopalong!" cried Skinny, who -was fighting mad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong wheeled and crouched, watching -the door, and it was not long before a masked -face appeared on the farther side of the glass. -Hopalong fired and a splotch of red stained the -white mask as the robber fell against the door -and slid to the platform.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hear that shooting?" cried the brakeman. -"They 're at the messenger. They 'll blow him up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on, fellers!" cried Hopalong, leaping -toward the door, closely followed by his friends.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They stepped over the obstruction on the -platform and jumped to the ground on the side of -the car farthest from the robbers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shoot under the cars for legs," whispered -Skinny. "That 'll bring 'em down where we can -get 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which is a good idea," replied Red, dropping -quickly and looking under the car.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Somebody's going to be surprised, all right," -exulted Hopalong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The firing on the other side of the train was -heavy, being for the purpose of terrifying the -passengers and to forestall concerted resistance. -The robbers could not distinguish between the -many reports and did not know they were being -opposed, or that two of their number were dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A whinny reached Hopalong's ears and he -located it in a small grove ahead of him: "Well, -we know where th' cayuses are in case they make -a break."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A white and scared face peered out of the -cab-window and Hopalong stopped his finger just -in time, for the inquisitive man wore the cap of fireman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You idiot!" muttered the gunman, angrily. -"Get back!" he ordered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pair of legs ran swiftly along the other -side of the car and Red and Skinny fired -instantly. The legs bent, their owner falling -forward behind the rear truck, where he was screened -from sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They had it their own way before!" gritted -Skinny. "Now we 'll see if they can stand th' iron!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time Hopalong and Red were -crawling under the express-car and were so preoccupied -that they did not notice the faint blue streak -of smoke immediately over their heads. Then -Red glanced up to see what it was that sizzed, -saw the glowing end of a three-inch fuse, and -blanched. It was death not to dare and his hand -shot up and back, and the dynamite cartridge -sailed far behind him to the edge of the -embankment, where it hung on a bush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good!" panted Hopalong. "We 'll pay 'em -for that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They 're worse 'n rustlers!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They could hear the messenger running about -over their heads, dragging and up-ending heavy -objects against the doors of the car, and -Hopalong laughed grimly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Luck's with this messenger, all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It ought to be—he 's a fighter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are they? Have they tumbled to our game?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They're waiting for the explosion, you chump."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay where you are then. Wait till they -come out to see what's th' matter with it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red snorted: "Wait nothing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, then; I 'm with you. Get out of -my way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 've been in situations some peculiar, but this -beats 'em all," Red chuckled, crawling forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The robber by the car truck revived enough to -realize that something was radically wrong, and -shouted a warning as he raised himself on his -elbow to fire at Skinny but the alert puncher shot -first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Hopalong and Red emerged from beneath -the car and rose to their feet there was a terrific -explosion and they were knocked to the ground, -while a sudden, heavy shower of stones and earth -rained down over everything. The two punchers -were not hurt and they arose to their feet in -time to see the engineer and fireman roll out of -the cab and crawl along the track on their hands -and knees, dazed and weakened by the concussion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly, from one of the day-coaches, a -masked man looked out, saw the two punchers, -and cried:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's all up! Save yourselves!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Hopalong and Red looked around, still -dazed, he fired at them, the bullet singing past -Hopalong's ear. Red smothered a curse and -reeled as his friend grasped him. A wound over -his right eye was bleeding profusely and Hopalong's -face cleared of its look of anxiety when -he realized that it was not serious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They creased you! Blamed near got you for -keeps!" he cried, wiping away the blood with his -sleeve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red, slightly stunned, opened his eyes and -looked about confusedly. "Who done that? -Where is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't know, but I'll shore find out," Hopalong -replied. "Can you stand alone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red pushed himself free and leaned against -the car for support: "Course I can! Git that cuss!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Skinny heard the robber shout the warning -he wheeled and ran back, intently watching -the windows and doors of the car for trouble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We 'll finish yore tally right here!" he muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he reached the smoker he turned and -went towards the rear, where he found Lanky -and Billy lying under the platform. Billy was -looking back and guarding their rear, while his -companion watched the clump of trees where the -second herd of horses was known to be. Just -as they were joined by their foreman, they saw -two men run across the track, fifty yards -distant, and into the grove, both going so rapidly -as to give no chance for a shot at them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There they are!" shouted Skinny, opening -fire on the grove.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that instant Hopalong turned the rear -platform and saw the brakeman leap out of the door -with a Winchester in his hands. The puncher -sprang up the steps, wrenched the rifle from its -owner, and, tossing it to Skinny, cried: "Here, -this is better!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Too late," grunted the puncher, looking up, -but Hopalong had become lost to sight among -the rocks along the right of way. "If I only -had this a minute ago!" he grumbled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The men in the grove, now in the saddle, -turned and opened fire on the group by the train, -driving them back to shelter. Skinny, taking -advantage of the cover afforded, ran towards the -grove, ordering his friends to spread out and -surround it; but it was too late, for at that minute -galloping was heard and it grew rapidly fainter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red appeared at the end of the train: -"Where's th' rest of the coyotes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two of 'em got away," Lanky replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ya-ho!" shouted Hopalong from the grove. -"Don't none of you fools shoot! I'm coming -out. They plumb got away!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They near got </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>, Red," Skinny cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nears don't count," Red laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you ever notice Hopalong when he 's -fighting mad?" asked Lanky, grinning at the -man who was leaving the woods. "He allus -wears his sombrero hanging on one ear. Look -at it now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who touched off that cannon some time -back?" asked Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did. It was an anti-gravity cartridge what -I found sizzling on a rod under th' floor of th' -express car," replied Red.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did n't you pinch out th' fuse 'stead of -blowing everything up, you half-breed?" Lanky -asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I reckon I was some hasty," grinned Red.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It blowed me under th' car an' my lid through -a windy," cried Billy. "An' Skinny, he went up -in th' air like a shore-'nough grasshopper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong joined them, grinning broadly: -"Hey, reckon ridin' in th' cars ain't so bad after -all, is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Holy smoke!" cried Skinny. "What's that -a-popping?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong, Colt in hand, leaped to the side of -the train and looked along it, the others close -behind him, and saw the fat man with his head and -arm out of the window, blazing away into the air, -which increased the panic in the coaches. Hopalong -grinned and fired into the ground, and the -fat man nearly dislocated parts of his anatomy -by his hasty disappearance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reckon he plumb forgot all about his fine, -six-dollar gun till just now," Skinny laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he 's making good," Red replied. "He -said he 'd take a hand if anything busted loose. -It's a good thing he did n't come to life while me -an' Hoppy was under his windy looking for laigs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reckon some of us better go in th' cars an' -quiet th' stampede," Skinny remarked, mounting -the steps, followed by Hopalong. "They're -shore </span><em class="italics">loco</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The uproar in the coach ceased abruptly when -the two punchers stepped through the door, the -inmates shrinking into their seats, frightened -into silence. Skinny and his companion did not -make a reassuring sight, for they were grimy -with burned powder and dust, and Hopalong's -sleeve was stained with Red's blood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my jewels, my pretty jewels," sobbed a -woman, staring at Skinny and wringing her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ma'am, we shore don't want yore jewelry," -replied Skinny, earnestly. "Ca'm yoreself; we -don't want nothin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don't want that!" growled Hopalong, -pushing a wallet from him. "How many times do -you want us to tell you we don't want nothin'? -We ain't robbers; we licked th' robbers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he stooped and, grasping a pair of -legs which protruded into the aisle obstructing -the passage, straightened up and backed towards -Red, who had just entered the car, dragging into -sight a portly gentleman, who kicked and -struggled and squealed, as he grabbed at the -stanchions of seats to stay his progress. Red stepped -aside between two seats and let his friend pass, -and then leaned over and grasped the portly -gentleman's coat-collar. He tugged energetically -and lifted the frightened man clear of the aisle -and deposited him across the back of a seat, face -down, where he hung balanced, yelling and kicking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shut yore face, you cave-hunter!" cried Red -in disgust. "Stop that infernal noise! You fat -fellers make all yore noise after th' fighting is -all over!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man on the seat, suddenly realizing what -a sight he made, rolled off his perch and sat up, -now more angry than frightened. He glared at -Red's grinning face and sputtered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's an outrage! It's an outrage! I'll -have you hung for this day's work, young man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right," grinned Hopalong. "He -shore deserves it. I told him more 'n once that -he 'd get strung up some day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and you, too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please don't," begged Hopalong. "I don't -want t' die!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tense as the past quarter of an hour had been -a titter ran along the car and, fuming impotently, -the portly gentleman fled into the smoker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll bet he had a six-dollar gun, too," laughed Red.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll bet he 's calling hisself names right about -now," Hopalong replied. Then he turned to -reply to a woman: "Yes, ma'am, we did. But -they was n't real badmen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this a young woman, who was about as -pretty as any young woman could be, arose and -ran to Hopalong and, impulsively throwing her -arms around his neck, cried: "You brave man! -You hero! You dear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Skinny! Red! Help!" cried the frightened -and embarrassed puncher, struggling to get free.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She kissed him on the cheek, which flamed even -more red as he made frantic efforts to keep his -head back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ma'am!" he cried, desperately. "Leggo, -ma'am! Leggo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Ho! Ho!" roared Red, weak from his -mirth and, not looking to see what he was doing, -he dropped into a seat beside another woman. -He was on his feet instantly; fearing that he -would have to go through the ordeal his friend -was going through, he fled down the aisle, closely -followed by Hopalong, who by this time had -managed to break away. Skinny backed off -suspiciously and kept close watch on Hopalong's -admirer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just then the brakeman entered the car, -grinning, and Skinny asked about the condition of -the conductor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he 's all right now," the brakeman replied. -"They shot him through the arm, but he 's -repaired and out bossin' the job of clearin' the -rocks off the track. He 's a little shaky yet, but -he 'll come around all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's good. I 'm shore glad to hear it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you wear this pin as a small token of -my gratitude?" asked a voice at Skinny's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wheeled and raised his sombrero, a flush -stealing over his face:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, ma'am, but I don't want no pay. -We was plumb glad to do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But this is not pay! It's just a trifling token -of my appreciation of your courage, just something -to remind you of it. I shall feel hurt if -you refuse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her quick fingers had pinned it to his shirt -while she spoke and he thanked her as well as his -embarrassment would permit. Then there was -a rush toward him and, having visions of a shirt -looking like a jeweler's window, he turned and -fled from the car, crying: "Pin 'em on th' -brakeman!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found the outfit working at a pile of rocks -on the track, under the supervision of the -conductor, and Hopalong looked up apprehensively -at Skinny's approach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord!" he ejaculated, grinning sheepishly, "I -was some scairt you was a woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Red dropped the rock he was carrying and -laughed derisively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yo're a brave man, you are! scared to -death by a purty female girl! If I 'd 'a' been -you I would n't 'a' run, not a step!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong looked at him witheringly: "Oh, -no! You wouldn't 'a' run! You'd dropped -dead in your tracks, you would!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You was both of you a whole lot scared," -Skinny laughed. Then, turning to the -conductor: "How do you feel, Simms?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I 'm all right: but it took the starch out -of me for awhile."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I don't wonder, not a bit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You fellows certainly don't waste any time -getting busy," Simms laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the secret of gun-fightin'," replied Skinny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you 're a fine crowd all right. Any -time you want to go any place when you 're -broke, climb aboard my train and I 'll see't you -get there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Much obliged."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Simms turned to the express-car: "Hey, -Jackson! You can open up now if you want to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the express-messenger was suspicious, -fearing that the conductor was talking with a -gun at his head: "You go to h—l!" he called back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Honest!" laughed Simms. "Some cowboy -friends o' mine licked the gang. Didn't you -hear that dynamite go off? If they hadn't -fished it out from under your feet you 'd be -communing with the angels 'bout now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment there was no response, and then -Jackson could be heard dragging things away -from the door. When he was told of the -cartridge and Red had been pointed out to him as -the man who had saved his life, he leaped to the -ground and ran to where that puncher was -engaged in carrying the ever-silenced robbers to -the baggage-car. He shook hands with Red, -who laughed deprecatingly, and then turned and -assisted him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong came up and grinned: "Say, -there 's some cayuses in that grove up th' track; -shall I go up an' get 'em?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shore! I 'll go an' get 'em with you," replied -Skinny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the grove they found seven horses picketed, -two of them being pack-animals, and they -led them forth and reached the train as the others -came up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, here 's five saddled cayuses, an' two -others," Skinny grinned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then we can ride th' rest of th' way in th' -saddle instead of in that blamed train," Red -eagerly suggested.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's just what we can do," replied Skinny. -"Leather beats car-seats any time. How far -are we from Sandy Creek, Simms?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About twenty miles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' we can ride along th' track, too," -suggested Hopalong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shore can," laughed Skinny, shaking -hands with the train-crew: "We 're some glad -we rode with you this trip: we 've had a fine time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And we're glad you did," Simms replied, -"for that ain't no joke, either."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong and the others had mounted and -were busy waving their sombreros and bowing -to the heads and handkerchiefs which were -decorating the car-windows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All aboard!" shouted the conductor, and -cheers and good wishes rang out and were replied -to by bows and waving of sombreros. Then -Hopalong jerked his gun loose and emptied it -into the air, his companions doing likewise. -Suddenly five reports rang out from the smoker and -they cheered the fat man as he waved at them. -They sat quietly and watched the train until the -last handkerchief became lost to sight around a -curve, but the screeching whistle could be heard -for a long time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gee!" laughed Hopalong as they rode on -after the train, "won't th' fellers home on th' -ranch be a whole lot sore when they hears about -the good time what they missed!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="sammy-finds-a-friend"><span class="large">XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">SAMMY FINDS A FRIEND</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The long train ride and the excitement were -over and the outfit, homeward bound, loped -along the trail, noisily discussing their exciting -and humorous experiences and laughingly -commented upon Hopalong's decision to follow them -later. They could not understand why he should -be interested in a town like Sandy Creek after -a week spent in the city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Back in the little cow-town their friend was -standing in the office of the hotel, gazing -abstractedly out of the window. His eyes caught and -focused on a woman who was walking slowly -along the other side of the square and finally -paused before McCall's "Palace," a combination -saloon, dance and gambling hall. He smiled -cynically as his memory ran back over those other -women he had seen in cow-towns and wondered -how it was that the men of the ranges could -rise to a chivalry that was famed. At that -distance she was strikingly pretty. Her complexion -was an alluring blend of color that the gold -of her hair crowned like a burst of sunshine. He -noticed that her eyebrows were too prominent, -too black and heavy to be Nature's contribution. -And there was about her a certain forwardness, a -dash that bespoke no bashful Miss; and her -clothes, though well-fitting, somehow did not -please his untrained eye. A sudden impulse seized -him and he strode to the door and crossed the -dusty square, avoiding the piles of rusted cans, -broken bottles and other rubbish that littered it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had become interested in a dingy window -but turned to greet him with a resplendent smile -as he stepped to the wooden walk. He noted -with displeasure that the white teeth displayed -two shining panels of gold that drew his eyes -irresistibly; and then and there he hated gold -teeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello," she laughed. "I 'm glad to see -somebody that's alive in this town. Ain't it awful?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He instinctively removed his sombrero and was -conscious that his habitual bashfulness in the -presence of members of her sex was somehow -lacking. "Why, I don't see nothin' extra dead -about it," he replied. "Most of these towns are -this way in daylight. Th' moths ain't out yet. -You should 'a' been here last night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes? But you 're out; an' you look like you -might be able to fly," she replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I suppose so," he laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see you wear </span><em class="italics">two</em><span> of 'em," she said, glancing -at his guns. "Ain't one of them things -enough?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One usually is, mostly," he assented. "But -I 'm pig-headed, so I wears two."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ain't it awrful hard to use two of 'em at once?" -she asked, her tone flattering. "Then you 're -one of them two-gun men I 've heard about, ain't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' seen?" he smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I 've seen a couple. Where you goin' -so early?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just lookin' th' town over," he answered, -glancing over her shoulder at a cub of a -cowpuncher who had opened the door of the -"Retreat," but stopped in his tracks when he saw the -couple in front of McCall's. There was a look -of surprised interest on the cub's face, and it -swiftly changed to one of envious interest. -Hopalong's glance did not linger, but swept -carelessly along the row of shacks and back to his -companion's face without betraying his discovery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well; you can look it over in about ten -seconds, from th' outside," she rejoined. "An' it's -so dusty out here. My throat is awful dry already."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had n't noticed any dust in the air, but he -nodded. "Yes; thirsty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it ain't polite or ladylike to say yes," -she demurred, "but I really am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held open the door of the "Palace" and -preceded her to the dance hall, where she rippled -the keys of the old piano as she swept past it. -The order given and served, he sipped at his glass -and carried on his share of a light conversation -until, suddenly, he arose and made his apologies. -"I got to attend to something" he regretted as he -picked up his sombrero and turned. "See you later."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why!" she exclaimed. "I was just beginnin' -to get acquainted!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A moth without money ain't no good," he -smiled. "I 'm goin' out to find th' money. -When I 'm in good company I like to spend. -See you later?" He bowed as she nodded, and -departed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Emerging from McCall's he glanced at the -"Retreat" and sauntered toward it. When he -entered he found the cub resting his elbows on -the pine bar, arguing with the bartender about -the cigars sold in the establishment. The cub -glanced up and appealed to the newcomer. -"Ain't they?" he demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong nodded. "I reckon so. But what -is it about?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These cigars," explained the cub, ruefully. -"I was just sayin' there ain't a good one in town."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You lose," replied Hopalong. "Are you -shore you knows a good cigar when you smokes it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it so well that I ain't found one since -I left Kansas City. You said I lose. Do you -know one well enough to be a judge?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong reached to his vest pocket, extracted -a cigar and handed it to the cub, who took it -hesitatingly. "Why, I'm much obliged. I—I -did n't mean that—you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong nodded and rearranged the cigar's -twin-brothers in his pocket. He would be -relieved when they were smoked, for they made -him nervous with their frailty. The cub lighted -the cigar and an unaffected grin of delight -wreathed his features as the smoke issued from -his nostrils. "Who sells 'em?" he demanded, -excitedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Corson an' Lukins, up th' hill from th' depot," -answered Hopalong. "Like it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like it! Why, stranger, I used to spend -most of my week's pocket money for these." He -paused and stared at the smiling puncher. "Did -you say Corson an' Lukins?" he demanded -incredulously. "Well, I 'll be hanged! When -was you there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Last week. Here, bartender; liquor for all hands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cub touched the glass to his lips and waved -his hand at a table. Seated across from the -stranger with the heaven-sent cigars he ordered -the second round, and when he went to pay for -it he drew out a big roll of bills and peeled off -the one on the outside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong frowned. "Sonny," he said in a -low voice, "it ain't none of my affair, but you -oughta put that wad away an' forget you have -it when out in public. You shouldn't tempt -yore feller men like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cub laughed: "Oh, I had my eye teeth -cut long ago. Play a little game?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong was amused. "Didn't I just tell -you not to tempt yore feller men?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cub grinned. "I reckon it 'll fade quick, -anyhow; but it took me six months' hard work to -get it together. It 'll last about six days, I suppose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Six hours, if you plays every man that comes -along," corrected Hopalong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, mebby," admitted the cub. "Say: -that was one fine girl you was talkin' to, all -right," he grinned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong studied him a moment. "Not -meanin' no offense, what's yore name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sammy Porter; why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Sammy," remarked Hopalong as he -arose. "I reckon we 'll meet again before I leave. -You was remarkin' she was a fine girl. I admit -it; she was. So long," and he started for the -door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy flushed. "Why, I—I didn't mean -nothin'!" he exclaimed. "I just happened to -think about her—that's all! You know, I saw -you talkin' to her. Of course, you saw her first," -he explained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong turned and smiled kindly. "You -didn't say nothin' to offend me. I was just -startin' when you spoke. But as long as you -mentioned it I 'll say that my interest in th' lady -was only brief. Her interest in me was th' same. -Beyond lettin' you know that I 'll add that I don't -generally discuss wimmin. I 'll see you later," -and, nodding cheerily, he went out and closed the -door behind him.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Hopalong leaned lazily against the hotel, out -of reach of the spring wind, which was still sharp, -and basked in the warmth of the timid sun. He -regarded the little cow-town cynically but -smilingly and found no particular fault with it. -Existing because the railroad construction work -of the season before had chanced to stop on the -eastern bank of the deceptive creek, and because -of the nearness of three drive trails, one of them -important, the town had sprung up, mushroom-like, -almost in a night. Facing on the square -were two general stores, the railroad station and -buildings, two restaurants, a dozen saloons where -gambling either was the main attraction or an -ambitious side-line, McCall's place and a barber -shop with a dingy, bullet-peppered red-and-white -pole set close to the door. Between the barber -shop and McCall's was a narrow space, and the -windows of the two buildings, while not opposite, -opened on the little strip of ground separating them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rubbing a hand across his chin he regarded the -barber shop thoughtfully and finally pushed -away from the sun-warmed wall of the hotel and -started lazily toward the red-and-white pole. As -he did so the tin-panny notes of a piano redoubled -and a woman's voice shrilly arose to a high note, -flatted, broke and swiftly dropped an octave. -He squirmed and looked speculatively along the -westward trail, wondering how far away his -outfit was and why he had not gone with them. -Another soaring note that did not flat and a -crashing chord from the piano were followed by a -burst of uproarious, reckless laughter. -Hopalong frowned, snapped his fingers in sudden -decision and stepped briskly toward the barber shop -as the piano began anew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Entering quietly and closing the door softly, -he glanced appraisingly through the windows and -made known his wants in a low voice. "I want -a shave, haircut, shampoo, an' anythin' else you -can think of. I 'm tired an' don't want to talk. -Take yore own time an' do a good job; an' if I 'm -asleep when yo're through, don't wake me till -somebody else wants th' chair. Savvy? All -right—start in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In McCall's a stolid bartender listened to the -snatches of conversation that filtered under the -door to the dance hall alongside and on his face -there at times flickered the suggestion of a -cynical smile. A heavy, dark complexioned man -entered from the street and glanced at the closed -door of the dance hall. The bartender nodded -and held up a staying hand, after which he shoved -a drink across the bar. The heavy-set man -carefully wiped a few drops of spilled liquor from his -white, tapering hands and seated himself with a -sigh of relief, and became busy with his thoughts -until the time should come when he would be needed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the other side of that door a little comedy -was being enacted. The musician, a woman, -toyed with the keys of the warped and scratched -piano, the dim light from the shaded windows -mercifully hiding the paint and the hardness of -her face and helping the jewelry, with which her -hands were covered, keep its tawdry secret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't see what makes you so touchy," -grumbled Sammy in a pout. "I ain't goin' to -hurt you if I touch yore arm." He was flushed -and there was a suspicious unsteadiness in his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed. "Why, I thought you wanted to talk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did," he admitted, sullenly; "but there's a -limit to most wants. Oh, well: go ahead an' -play. That last piece was all right; but give us -a gallop or a mazurka—anything lively. Better -yet, a caprice: it's in keepin' with yore temperament. -If you was to try to interpert mine you 'd -have to dig it out of Verdi an' toll a funeral bell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say; who told you so much about music?" -she demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Th' man that makes harmonicas," he grinned. -He arose and took a step toward her, but she -retreated swiftly, smiling. "Now behave yourself, -for a little while, at least. What's th' matter -with you, anyhow? What makes you so silly?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You, of course. I don't see no purty wimmin -out on th' range, an' you went to my head th' -minute I laid eyes on you. </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> ain't in no hurry -to leave this town, now nohow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm afraid you 're going to be awful when -you grow up. But you 're a nice boy to say such -pretty things. Here," she said, filling his glass -and handing it to him, "let's drink another -toast—you know such nice ones."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; an' if I don't run out of 'em purty soon -I 'll have to hunt a solid, immovable corner -somewheres; an' there ain't nothin' solid or immovable -about </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> room at present," he growled. "What -you allus drinkin' to somethin' for? Well, here's -a toast—I don't know any more fancy ones. -Here's to—</span><em class="italics">you</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's nicer than—oh, pshaw!" she -exclaimed, pouting. "An' you would n't drink a -full glass to </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> one. You must think I 'm nice, -when you renig like that! Don't tell me any -more pretty things—an' stop right where you -are! Think you can hang onto me after that? -Well, that's better; why didn't you do it th' -first time? You can be a nice boy when you -want to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flushed angrily. "Will you stop callin' -me a boy?" he demanded unsteadily. "I ain't -no kid! I do a man's work, earn a man's pay, -an' I spend it like a man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' drink a boy's drink," she teased. -"You 'll grow up some day." She reached -forward and filled his glass again, for an instant -letting her cheek touch his. Swiftly evading -him she laughed and patted him on the head. -"Here, </span><em class="italics">man</em><span>," she taunted, "drink this if you dare!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He frowned at her but gulped down the liquor. -"There, like a fool!" he grumbled, bitterly. -"You tryin' to get me drunk?" he demanded -suddenly in a heavy voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She threw back her head and regarded him -coldly. "It will do me no good. Why should I? -I merely wanted to see if you would take a dare, -if you were a man. You are either not sober -now, or you are insultingly impolite. I don't -care to waste any more words or time with you," -and she turned haughtily toward the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had leaned against the piano, but now he -lurched forward and cried out. "I 'm sorry if -I hurt yore feelin's that way—I shore didn't -mean to. Ain't we goin' to make up?" he asked, -anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean that?" she demanded, pausing -and looking around.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know I do, Annie. Le's make up—come -on; le's make up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well; I'll try you, an' see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Play some more. You play beautiful," he -assured her with heavy gravity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm tired of—but, say: Can you play -poker?" she asked, eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, shore; who can't?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I can't, for one. I want to learn, so I -can win my money back from Jim. He taught -me, but all I had time to learn was how to lose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy regarded her in puzzled surprise and -gradually the idea became plain. "Did he teach -you, an' win money from you? Did he keep -it?" he finally blurted, his face flushed a deeper -red from anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded. "Why, yes; why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked around for his sombrero, muttering -savagely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where you goin'?" she asked in surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To get it back. He ain't goin' to keep it, th' -coyote!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, he won't give it back to you if he -would n't to me. Anyhow, he won it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Won</em><span> it!" he snapped. "He stole it, that's -how much he won it. He 'll give it back or get -shot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now look here," she said, quickly. "You -ain't goin' gunnin' for no friend of mine. If -you want to get that money for me, an' I certainly -can use it about now, you got to try some other -way. Say! Why don't you win it from him?" -she exulted. "That's th' way—get it back th' -way it went."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He weighed her words and a grin slowly crept -across his face. "Why, I reckon you called it, -that time, Annie. That's th' way I 'll try first, -anyhow, Li'l Girl. Where is this good friend of -yourn that steals yore money? Where is this feller?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As if in answer to his inquiry the heavy-set man -strolled in, humming cheerily. And as he did -so the sleepy occupant of the barber's chair -slowly awoke, rubbed his eyes, stretched -luxuriously and, paying his bill, loafed out and lazily -sauntered down the street, swearing softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, here he is now," laughed the woman. -"You must 'a' heard us talkin' about you, Jim. -I'm goin' to get my money back—this is -Mr. Porter, Jim, who 's goin' to do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gambler smiled and held out his hand. -"Howd'y, Mr. Porter," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy glared at him: "Put yore paw down," -he said, thickly. "I ain't shakin' han's with no -dogs or tin-horns."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gambler recoiled and flushed, fighting hard -to repress his anger. "What you mean?" he -growled, furiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What I said. If you want revenge sit down -there an' play, if you 've got th' nerve to play -with a man. I never let no coyote steal a -woman's money, an' I 'm goin' to get Annie her -twenty. Savvy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gambler's reply was a snarl. "Play!" he -sneered. "I'll play, all right. It'll take -more 'n a sassy kid to get that money back, too. -I 'm goin' to take yore last red cent. You can't -talk to me like that an' get it over. An' don't -let me hear you call her 'Annie' no more, neither. -Yo 're too cussed familiar!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hand on Sammy's arm stopped the draw -and he let the gun drop back into the holster. -"</span><em class="italics">No!</em><span>" she whispered. "Make a fool of him, -Sammy! Beat him at his own game."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy nodded and scowled blackly. "I call -th' names as suits me," he retorted. "When I -see you on th' street I 'm goin' to call you some -that I 'm savin' up now because a lady 's present. -They 're hefty, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At first he won, but always small amounts. -Becoming reckless, he plunged heavily on a fair -hand and lost. He plunged again on a better -hand and lost. Then he steadied as much as his -befuddled brain would permit and played a -careful game, winning a small pot. Another small -winning destroyed his caution and he plunged -again, losing heavily. Steadying himself once -more he began a new deal with excess caution -and was bluffed out of the pot, the gambler -sneeringly showing his cards as he threw them -down. Sammy glanced around to say something -to the woman, but found she had gone. "Aw, -never mind her!" growled his opponent. "She 'll -be back—she can't stay away from a kid like you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman was passing through the barroom -and, winking at the bartender, opened the door -and stepped to the street. She smiled as she -caught sight of the limping stranger coming -toward her. He might have found money, but -she was certain he had found something else and -in generous quantities. He removed his -sombrero with an exaggerated sweep of his hand and -hastened to meet her, walking with the conscious -erectness of a man whose feet are the last part -of him to succumb. "Hullo, Sugar," he grinned. -"I found some, a'right. Now we 'll have some -music. Come long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There ain't no hurry," she answered. "We 'll -take a little walk first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, we won't. We 'll have some music an' -somethin' to drink. If you won't make th' music, -I will; or shoot up th' machine. Come 'long, -Sugar," he leered, pushing open the door with a -resounding slam. He nodded to the bartender -and apologized. "No harm meant, Friend. It -sorta slipped; jus' slipped, tha's all. Th' young -lady an' me is goin' to have some music. What? -All right for you, Sugar! Then I'll make it -myself," and he paraded stiffly toward the inner -door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bartender leaned suddenly forward. -"Keep out of there! You 'll bust that pianner!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The puncher stopped with a jerk, swung -ponderously on his heel and leveled a forefinger at -the dispenser of drinks. "I won't," he said. -"An' if I do, I 'll pay for it. Come on, Sugar—le's -play th' old thing, jus' for spite." Grasping -her arm he gently but firmly escorted her into -the dance hall and seated her at the piano. As he -straightened up he noticed the card players and, -bowing low to her, turned and addressed them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gents," he announced, bowing again, "we are -goin' to have a li'l music an' we hopes you won't -objec'. Not that we gives a d—n, but we jus' -hopes you won't." He laughed loudly at his -joke and leaned against the piano. "Let 'er go," -he cried, beating time. "Allaman lef an' ladies -change! Swing yore partner's gal—I mean, -swing some other gal: but what's th' difference? -All join han's an' hop to th' middle—nope! -It's all han's roun' an' swing 'em again. But it -don't make no difference, does it, Lulu?" He -whooped loudly and marched across the room, -executed a few fancy steps and marched back -again. As he passed the card table Sammy -threw down his hand and arose with a curse. The -marcher stopped, fiddled a bit with his feet until -obtaining his balance, and then regarded the -youth quizzically. "S'matter, Sonny?" he inquired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy scowled, slowly recognized the owner -of the imported cigars and shook his head. "Big -han's, but not big enough; an' I lost my -pile." Staggering to the piano he plumped down on a -chair near it and watched the rippling fingers of -the player in drunken interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hilarious cowpuncher, leaning backward -perilously, recovered his poise for a moment and -then lurched forward into the chair the youth had -just left. "Come on, pardner," he grinned across -at the gambler. "Le's gamble. I been honin' -for a game, an' here she is." He picked up the -cards, shuffled them clumsily and pushed them -out for the cut. The gambler hesitated, -considered and then turned over a jack. He lost -the deal and shoved out a quarter without interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The puncher leaned over, looked at it closely -and grinned. "Two bits? That ain't poker; -that's—that's dominoes!" he blurted, angrily, -with the quick change of mood of a man in his cups.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I ain't anxious to play," replied the gambler. -"I 'll kill a li'l time at a two-bit game, though. -Otherwise I 'll quit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A'right," replied the dealer. "I did n't -expec' nothin' else from a tin-horn, no-how. I want -two cards after you get yourn." The gambler -called on the second raise and smiled to himself -when he saw that his opponent had drawn to a -pair and an ace. He won on his own deal and -on the one following.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The puncher increased the ante on the fourth -deal and looked up inquiringly, a grin on his face. -"Le's move out th' infant class," he suggested.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gambler regarded him sharply. "Well, -th' other </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> sorta tender," he admitted, nodding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The puncher pulled out a handful of gold -coins and clumsily tried to stalk them, which he -succeeded in doing after three attempts. He -was so busy that he did not notice the look in the -other's eyes. Picking up his hand he winked -at it and discarded one. "Goin' to raise th' ante -a few," he chuckled. "I got a feelin' I 'm goin' -t' be lucky." When the card was dealt to him -he let it lay and bet heavily. The gambler saw -it and raised in turn, and the puncher, frowning -in indecision, nodded his head wisely and met it, -calling as he did so. His four fives were just -two spots shy to win and he grumbled loudly at -his luck. "Huh," he finished, "she 's a jack pot, -eh?" He slid a double eagle out to the center -of the table and laughed recklessly. The deals -went around rapidly, each one calling for a -ten-dollar sweetener and when the seventh hand was -dealt the puncher picked his cards and laughed. -"She 's open," he cried, "for fifty," and shoved -out the money with one hand while he dug up a -reserve pile from his pocket with the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gambler saw the opener and raised it fifty, -smiling at his opponent's expression. The -puncher grunted his surprise, studied his hand, -glanced at the pot and shrugging his shoulders, -saw the raise. He drew two cards and chuckled -as he slid them into his hand; but before the dealer -could make his own draw the puncher's chuckle -died out and he stared over the gambler's -shoulder. With an oath he jerked out his gun -and fired. The gambler leaped to his feet and -whirled around to look behind. Then he angrily -faced the frowning puncher. "What you think -yo 're doin'?" he demanded, his hand resting -inside his coat, the thumb hooked over the edge of -the vest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The puncher waved his hand apologetically. -"I never have no luck when I sees a cat," he -explained. "A black cat is worse; but a yaller -one's bad enough. I 'll bet that yaller devil -won't come back in a hurry—judgin' by th' way -it started. I won't miss him, if he does."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gambler, still frowning, glanced at the -deck suspiciously and saw that it lay as he had -dropped it. The bartender, grinning at them -from the door, cracked a joke and went back to -the bar. Sammy, after a wild look around, -settled back in his chair and soothed the pianist -a little before going back to sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drawing two cards the gambler shoved them -in his hand without a change in his expression—but -he was greatly puzzled. It was seldom that -he bungled and he was not certain that he had. -The discard contained the right number of cards -and his opponent's face gave no hint to the -thoughts behind it. He hesitated before he saw -the bet—ten dollars was not much, for the size -of the pot justified more. He slowly saw it, -willing to lose the ten in order to see his opponent's -cards. There was something he wished to know, -and he wanted to know it as soon as he could. -"I call that," he said. The puncher's expression -of tenseness relaxed into one of great relief and -he hurriedly dropped his cards. Three kings, an -eight, and a deuce was his offering. The -gambler laid down a pair of queens, a ten, an eight -and a four, waved his hand and smiled. "It's -just as well I did n't draw another queen," he -observed, calmly. "I might 'a' raised once for luck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The puncher raked in the pot and turned -around in his chair. "I cleaned up that time," -he exulted to the woman. She had stopped -playing and was stroking Sammy's forehead. -Smiling at the exuberant winner she nodded. "You -should have let the cat stay—I think it really -brought you luck." He shook his head -emphatically. "</span><em class="italics">No</em><span>, ma'am! It was chasin' it away as -did that. That's what did it, a'right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gambler glanced quickly at the two top -cards on the deck and was picking up those -scattered on the table when his opponent turned -around again. How that queen and ten had got -two cards too deep puzzled him greatly—he was -willing to wager even money that he would not -look away again until the game was finished, not -if all the cats in the world were being slaughtered. -One hundred and ninety dollars was too much -money to pay for being caught off his guard, as -he was tempted to believe he had been. He did -not know how much liquor the other had -consumed, but he seemed to be sobering rapidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next few deals did not amount to much. -Then a jackpot came around and was pushed -hard. The puncher was dealing and as he picked -up the deck after the cut he grinned and winked. -"Th' skirmishin' now bein' over, th' battle begins. -If that cat stays away long enough mebby I 'll -make a killin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right; but don't make no more gun-plays," -warned the gambler, coldly. "I allus get -excited when I smells gun-powder an' I do reckless -things sometimes," he added, significantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I shore hopes you keep ca'm," laughed -the puncher, loud enough to be heard over the -noise of the piano, which was now going again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pot was sweetened three times and then -the gambler dealt his opponent openers. The -puncher looked anxiously through the door, -grinning coltishly. He slowly pushed out twenty -dollars. "There's th' key," he grunted. -"A'right; see that an' raise you back. Good for -you! I'm stayin' an' boostin' same as ever. -Fine! See it again, an' add this. I 'm playin' -with yore money, so I c'n afford to be reckless. -All right; I'm satisfied, too. Gimme one li'l -card. I shore am glad I don't need th' king of -hearts—that was shore on th' bottom when th' -deal </span><em class="italics">begun</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gambler, having drawn, cursed and -reached swiftly toward his vest pocket; but he -stopped suddenly and contemplated the Colt that -peeked over the edge of the table. It looked -squarely at his short ribs and was backed by a -sober, angry man who gazed steadily into his -eyes. "Drop that hand," said the puncher in a -whisper just loud enough to be heard by the other -over the noise of the piano. "I never did like -them shoulder holsters—I carry my irons where -everybody can see 'em." Leaning forward -swiftly he reached out his left hand and cautiously -turned over the other's cards. The fourth one -was the king of hearts. "Don't move," he -whispered, not wishing to have the bartender take -a hand from behind. "An' don't talk," he -warned as he leaned farther forward and shoved -his Colt against the other's vest and with his left -hand extracted a short-barreled gun from the -sheath under the gambler's armpit. Sinking -back in his chair he listened a moment and, raking -in the pot, stowed it away with the other winnings -in his pockets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gambler stirred, but stopped as the Colt -leaped like a flash of light to the edge of the -table. "Tin-horn," said the puncher, softly, -"you ain't slick enough. I did n't stop you when -you wanted that queen an' ten because I wanted -you to go on with th' crookedness. Yaller cats -is more unlucky to you than they are to me. But -when I saw that last play I lost my temper; an' -I stopped you. Now if you 'll cheat with me, -you 'll cheat with a drunk boy. So, havin' -cheated him, you really stole his money away -from him. That bein' so, you will dig up six -month's wages at about fifty per month. I 'd -shoot you just as quick as I 'd shoot a snake; so -don't get no fool notions in yore head. Dig it -right up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gambler studied the man across from him, -but after a moment he silently placed some -money on the table. "It was only two forty," -he observed, holding to three double eagles. -The puncher nodded: "I 'll take yore word for -that. Now, in th' beginnin' I only wanted to -get th' boy his money; but when you started -cheatin' against me I changed my mind. I -played fair. Now here's your short-five," he said -as he slid the gun across the table. "Mebby you -might want to use it sometime," he smiled. "Now -you vamoose; an' if I see you in town after th' -next train leaves, I 'll </span><em class="italics">make</em><span> you use that shoulder -holster. An' tell yore friends that Hopalong -Cassidy says, that for a country where men can -tote their hardware in plain sight, a shoulder -layout ain't no good: you gotta reach too high. -Adios."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He watched the silent, philosophical man-of-cards -walk slowly toward the door, upright, -dignified and calm. Then he turned and -approached the piano. "Sister," he said, politely, -"yore gamblin' friend is leavin' town on th' next -train. He has pressin' business back east a -couple of stations an' wonders if you 'll join him -at th' depot in time for th' next train."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had stopped playing and was staring at -him in amazement. "Why didn't he come an' -tell me himself, 'stead of sneakin' away an' -sendin' you over?" she at last demanded, angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he wanted to, but he saw a man an' -slipped out with his gun in his hand. Mebby -there'll be trouble; but I dunno. I'm just -tellin' you. Gee," he laughed, looking at the -snoring youth in the chair, "he got </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> quick. -Why, I saw him less 'n two hours ago an' he was -sober as a judge. Reckon I 'll take him over -to th' hotel an' put him to bed." He went over -to the helpless Sammy, shook him and made him -get on his feet. "Come along, Kid," he said, -slipping his arm under the sagging shoulder. -"We'll get along. Good-by, Sugar," and, -supporting the feebly protesting cub, he slowly -made his way to the rear door and was gone, a -grin wreathing his face as he heard the chink of -gold coins in his several pockets.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="sammy-knows-the-game"><span class="large">XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">SAMMY KNOWS THE GAME</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A clean-cut, good-looking cowpuncher -limped slightly as he passed -the postoffice and found a seat on a box in -front of the store next door. He sighed with -relief and gazed cheerfully at the littered square -as though it was something worth looking at. -The night had not been a pleasant one because -Sammy Porter had insisted upon either singing -or snoring; and when breakfast was announced -the youth almost had recovered his senses and -was full of remorse and a raging thirst. Being -flatly denied the hair of the dog that bit him he -grew eloquently profane and very abusive. -Hence Mr. Cassidy's fondness for the box.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sounds obtruded. They were husky and had -dimensions and they came from the hotel bar. -After increasing in volume and carrying power -they were followed to the street by a disheveled -youth who kicked open the door and blinked in -the sunlight. Espying the contented individual -on the box he shook an earnest fist at that person -and tried next door. In a moment he followed -a new burst of noise to the street and shook the -other fist. Trying the saloon on the other side -of the hotel without success he shook both fists -and once again tried the hotel bar, where he -proceeded along lines tactful, flattering and -diplomatic. Only yesterday he had owned a gun, -horse and other personal belongings; he had -possessed plenty of money, a clear head and his sins -sat lightly on his youthful soul. He still had the -sins, but they had grown in weight. Tact -availed him nothing, flattery was futile and -diplomacy was in vain. To all his arguments the -bartender sadly shook his head, not because -Sammy had no money, which was the reason he -gave, but because of vivid remembrance of the -grimness with which a certain red-haired, -straight-lipped, two-gun cowpuncher had made -known his request. "Let him suffer," had said -the gunman. "It 'll be a good lesson for him. -Understand; not a drop!" And the bartender -had understood. To the drink-dispenser's -refusal Sammy replied with a masterpiece of -eloquence and during its delivery the bartender -stood with his hand on a mallet, but too -spellbound to throw it. Wheeling at the close of a -vivid, soaring climax, Sammy yanked open the -door again and stood transfixed with -amazement and hostile envy. His new and officious -friend surely knew the right system with women. -To the burning indignities of the morning this -added the last straw and Sammy bitterly -resolved not to forget his wrongs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had Mr. Cassidy been a kitten he would have -purred with delight as he watched his youthful -friend's vain search for the hair of the dog, and -his grin was threatening to engulf his ears when -the Cub slammed into the hotel. Hearing the -beating of hoofs he glanced around and saw a -trim, pretty young lady astride a trim, -high-spirited pony; and both were thoroughbreds if -he was any judge. They bore down upon him -at a smart lope and stopped at the edge of the -walk. The rider leaped from the saddle and -ran toward him with her hand outstretched and -her face aglow with a delighted surprise. Her -eyes fairly danced with welcome and relief and -her cheeks, reddened by the thrust of the wind -for more than twenty miles, flamed a deeper red, -through which streaks of creamy white played -fascinatingly. "Dick Ellsworth!" she cried. -"When did you get here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Cassidy stumbled to his feet, one hand -instinctively going out to the one held out to him, -the other fiercely gripping his sombrero. His -face flamed under its tan and he mumbled an -incoherent reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you remember </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>?" she chided, a -roguish, half-serious expression flashing over her -countenance. "Not little Annie, whom you -taught to ride? I used to think I needed you -then, Dick; but oh, how I need you now. It's -Providence, nothing else, that sent you. -Father's gone steadily worse and now all he -cares for is a bottle. Joe, the new foreman, has -full charge of everything and he's not only -robbing us right and left, but he 's—he 's -bothering </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>! When I complain to father of his -attentions all I get is a foolish grin. If you only -knew how I have prayed for you to come back, -Dick! Two bitter years of it. But now everything -is all right. Tell me about yourself while -I get the mail and then we 'll ride home together. -I suppose Joe will be waiting for me somewhere -on the trail; he usually does. Did you ever hate -anyone so much you wanted to kill him?" she -demanded fiercely, beside herself for the moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong nodded. "Well, yes; I have," he -answered. "But you must n't. What's his -name? We 'll have to look into this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Joe Worth; but let's forget him for awhile," -she smiled. "I 'll get the mail while you go after -your horse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded and watched her enter the post-office -and then turned and walked thoughtfully -away. She was mounted when he returned and -they swung out of the town at a lope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where have you been, and what have you -been doing?" she asked as they pushed along the -firm, hard trail.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Punchin' for th' Bar-20, southwest of here. -I wouldn't 'a' been here today only I let th' -outfit ride on without me. We just got back -from Kansas City a couple of days back. But -let's get at this here Joe Worth prop'sition. -I 'm plumb curious. How long's he been -pesterin' you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nearly two years—I can't stand it much longer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' th' outfit don't cut in?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They 're his friends, and they understand -that father wants it so. You 'll not know father, -Dick: I never thought a man could change so. -Mother's death broke him as though he were a reed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hum!" he grunted. "You ain't carin' how -this coyote is stopped, just so he is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" she flashed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' he 'll be waitin' for you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He usually is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He grinned. "Le 's hope he is this time." -He was silent a moment and looked at her -curiously. "I don't know how you 'll take it, but -I got a surprise for you—a big one. I 'm shore -sorry to admit it, but I ain't th' man you think. -I ain't Dick What 's-his-name, though it shore -ain't </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> fault. I reckon I must look a heap like -him; an' I hope I can </span><em class="italics">act</em><span> like him in this here -matter. I want to see it through like </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> would. -I can do as good a job, too. But it ain't -no-wise fair nor right to pretend I 'm him. I ain't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was staring at him in a way he did not -like. "Not Dick Ellsworth!" she gasped. -"You are </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> Dick?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm shore sorry—but I 'd like to play his -cards. I 'm honin' for to see this here Joe -Worth," he nodded, cheerfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you let me believe you were?" she -demanded coldly. "You deliberately led me to -talk as I did?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, now; I didn't just know what to do. -You shore was in trouble, which was bad. I -reckoned mebby I could get you out of it an' -then go along 'bout my business. You ain't -goin' to stop me a-doin' it, are you?" he asked -anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her reply was a slow, contemptuous look that -missed nothing and that left nothing to be said. -Her horse did not like to stand, anyway, and -sprang eagerly forward in answer to the sudden -pressure of her knees. She rode the high-strung -bay with superb art, angry, defiant, and erect as -a statue. Hopalong, shaking his head slowly, -gazed after her and when she had become a speck -on the plain he growled a question to his horse -and turned sullenly toward the town. Riding -straight to the hotel he held a short, low-voiced -conversation with the clerk and then sought his -friend, the Cub. This youthful grouch was -glaring across the bar at the red-faced, angry man -behind it, and the atmosphere was not one of -peace. The Cub turned to see who the -newcomer was and thereupon transferred his glare -to the smiling puncher.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hullo, Kid," breezed Hopalong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You go to h—l!" growled Sammy, -remembering to speak respectfully to his elders. He -backed off cautiously until he could keep both -of his enemies under his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong's grin broadened. He dug into his -pockets and produced a large sum of money. -"Here, Kid," said he, stepping forward and -thrusting it into Sammy's paralyzed hands. -"Take it an' buy all th' liquor you wants. You -can get yore gun off 'n th' clerk, an' he 'll tell you -where to find yore cayuse an' other belongings. -I gotta leave town."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy stared at the money in his hand. -"What's this?" he demanded, his face flushing -angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Money," replied Hopalong. "It's that -shiny stuff you buys things with. Spondulix, -cash, mazuma. You spend it, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy sputtered. He might have frothed -had his mouth not been so dry. "Is it?" he -demanded with great sarcasm. "I thought mebby -it was cows, or buttons. What you handin' it -to me for? I ain't no d—d beggar!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong chuckled. "That money's yourn. -I pried it loose from th' tin-horn that stole it -from you. I also, besides, pried off a few -chunks more; but them 's mine. I allus pays -myself good wages; an' th' aforesaid chunks is -plenty an' generous. Amen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy regarded his smiling friend with a -frank suspicion that was brutal. The pleasing -bulge of the pockets reassured him and he slowly -pocketed his rescued wealth. He growled -something doubtless meant for thanks and turned to -the bar. "A large chunk of th' Mojave Desert -slid down my throat las' night an' I 'm so dry -I rustles in th' breeze. Let's wet down a -li'l." Having extracted some of the rustle he eyed his -companion suspiciously. "Thought you was a -stranger hereabouts?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You 've called it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh! Then I 'm goin' to stick close to you -an get acquainted with th' female population of -th' towns we hit. An' I had allus reckoned -lightnin' was quick!" he soliloquized, regretfully. -"How 'd you do it?" he demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong was gazing over his friend's head at -a lurid chromo portraying the Battle of Bull -Run and he pursed his lips thoughtfully. -"That shore was some slaughter," he commented. -"Well, Kid," he said, holding out his hand, -"I 'm leavin'. If you ever gets down my way -an' wants a good job, drop in an' see us. Th' -clerk 'll tell you how to get there. An' th' next -time you gambles, stay sober."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hey! Wait a minute!" exclaimed Sammy. -"Goin' home now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't say as I am, direct."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Comin' back here before you do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't say that, neither. Life is plumb -oncertain an' gunplay 's even worse. Mebby I will -if I 'm alive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who you gunnin' for? Can't I take a hand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reckon not, Sammy. Why, I 'm cuttin' in -where I ain't wanted, even if I am needed. But -it's my duty. It's a h—l of a community as -waits for a total stranger to do its work for it. -If yo 're around an' I come back, why I 'll see -you again. Meanwhile, look out for tin-horns."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy followed him outside and grasped his -arm. "I can hold up my end in an argument," -he asserted fiercely. "You went an' did me a -good turn—lemme do </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> one. If it's anythin' -to do with that li'l girl you met to-day I won't -cut in—only on th' trouble end. I'm particular -strong on th' trouble part. Look here: Ain't -a friend got no rights?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong warmed to the eager youngster—he -was so much like Jimmy; and Jimmy, be it -known, could bedevil Hopalong as much as any -man alive and not even get an unkind word for -it. "I 'm scared to let you come, Kid; she 'd -fumigate th' ranch when you left. Th' last -twenty-four hours has outlawed you, all right. -You keep to th' brush trails in th' draws—don't -cavort none on skylines till you lose that biled -owl look." He laughed at the other's expression -and placed his hands on the youth's shoulders. -"That ain't it, Kid; I never apologizes, serious, -for th' looks of my friends. They 're my friends, -drunk or sober, in h—l or out of it. I just can't -see how you can cut in proper. Better wait -for me here—I 'll turn up, all right. Meanwhile, -as I says before, look out for tin-horns."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy watched him ride away, and then -slammed his sombrero on the ground and jumped -on it, after which he felt relieved. Procuring -his gun from the clerk he paused to cross-examine, -but after a fruitless half hour he -sauntered out, hiding his vexation, to wrestle with -the problem in the open. Passing the window of -a general store he idly glanced at the meager -display behind the dusty glass and a sudden grin -transfigured his countenance. He would find -out about the girl first and that would help him -solve the puzzle. Thinking thus he wandered -in carelessly and he wandered out again gravely -clutching a small package. Slipping behind the -next building he tore off the paper and carefully -crumpled and soiled with dust the purchase. -Then he went down to the depot and followed -the railroad tracks toward the other side of the -square. Reaching the place where the south -trail crossed the tracks he left them and walked -slowly toward a small depression that was -surrounded by hoofprints. He stooped quickly -and straightened up with a woman's handkerchief -dangling from his fingers. He grinned -foolishly, examined it, sniffed at it and scratched -his head while he cogitated. A decisive wave -of his hand apprised the two spectators that he -had arrived at a conclusion, which he bore out -by heading straight for the postoffice, which was -a part of the grocery store. The postmaster -and grocer, in person one, watched his approach -with frank curiosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy nodded and went in the store, -followed by the proprietor. "Howd'y," he -remarked, producing the handkerchief. "Just -picked this up over on th' trail. Know who -dropped it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Annie Allison, I reckon," replied the other. -"She came in that way from th' Bar-U. Want -to leave it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy considered. "Why, I might as well -take it to her—I'm goin' down there purty soon. -Don't know any other ranch that might use a -broncho-buster, do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The proprietor shook his head. "No; most -folks 'round here bust their own. Perfessional?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy nodded. "Yes. Here, gimme two-bits' -worth of them pep'mint lozengers. Yes, it -shore is fine; but it 'll rain before long. Well, -by-by."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bartender of the "Retreat" sniffed -suspiciously and eyed the open door thoughtfully, -holding aloft the bar-mop while he considered. -Then he put the mop on the bar and went to the -door, where he peered out. "Huh!" he grunted. -"Hogin' that?" he sarcastically inquired. -Sammy held out the bag and led the way to the -bar. "Where's th' Bar-U? Yes? Do their -own broncho-bustin'? Who, me? Ain't nothin' -on laigs can throw me, includin' humans an' -bartenders. What? Well, what you want to get -all skinned up for, for nothin'? Five dollars? -If you must lose it I might as well have it. One -fall? All right; come out here an' get it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bartender chuckled and vaulted the counter -as advance notice of his agility and physical -condition, and immediately there ensued a soft -shuffling. Suddenly the building shook and -dusted itself and Sammy arose and stepped -back, smiling at his victim. "Thanks," he -remarked. "Good money was spent on part of my -education—boxin' bein' th' other half. Now, -for five more, where can't I hit you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Behind th' bar," grinned the other; "I got -deadly weapons there. Look here!" he -exclaimed hurriedly as a great idea struck him. -"Everybody 'round here will back their wrastlin' -reckless; le 's team up an' make some easy money. -I 'll make th' bets an' you win 'em. Split even. -What say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Later on, mebby. What'd you say that -Bar-U foreman's name was?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bartender's reply was supplemented by a -pious suggestion. "An' if you wrastles </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>, -bust his cussed neck!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why this friendship?" queried Sammy, laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, just for general principles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy bought cigars, left some lozenges and -went out to search for his horse, which he duly -found. Inwardly he was elated and he flexed -his muscles and made curious motions with his -arms, which caused the pie-bald to show the -whites of its eyes wickedly and flatten its ragged -ears. Its actions were justified, for a left hand -darted out and slapped the wrinkling muzzle, -deftly escaping the clicking teeth. Then the -warlike pie-bald reflected judiciously as it -chewed the lozenge. The eyes showed less white -and the ears, moving forward and back, -compromised by one staying forward. The candy -was old and stale and the sting of the mint was -negligible, but the sugar was much in evidence. -When the hand darted out again the answering -nip was playful and the ears were set rigidly -forward. Sammy laughed, slipped several more -lozenges into the ready mouth, vaulted lightly -to the saddle and rode slowly toward the square. -The pie-bald kicked mildly and reached around -to nip at the stirrup, and then went on about its -business as any well-broken cow pony should. -Reaching the square Sammy drew rein -suddenly and watched a horseman who was riding -away from the "Retreat." Waiting a few -minutes Sammy spurred forward to the saloon -and called the bartender out to him. "Who was -that feller that just left?" he asked, curiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Joe Worth, th' man yo 're goin' to strike for -that job. Why don't you catch him now an' -mebby save yoreself a day's ride?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good idea," endorsed Sammy. "See you -later," and the youth wheeled and loped toward -the trail, but drew rein when hidden from the -"Retreat" by some buildings. He watched the -distant horseman until he became a mere dot and -then Sammy pushed on after him. There was -a satisfied look on his face and he chuckled as -he cogitated. "I shore got th' drift of this; I -know th' game! Wonder how Cassidy got onto -it?" He laughed contentedly. "Well, five -hundred ain't too little to split two ways; an' mebby -it is a two-man job. Mr. Joe Worth, who was -once Mr. George Atkins, I would n't give a peso -for yore chances after I get th' lay of th' ground -an' find out yore habits. Yo 're goin' back to -Willow Springs as shore as 'dogies' hang 'round -water holes. An' you 'll shore dance their tune -when you gets there."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mr. Cassidy, arriving at the Bar-U, asked for -the foreman and was told that the boss was in -town, but would be back sometime in the -afternoon. The newcomer replied that he would -return later and, carefully keeping out of sight -of the ranch house as well as he could, he wheeled -and rode back the way he had come, being very -desirous to have a good look at the foreman -before they met. Arriving at an arroyo several -miles north of the ranch he turned into it and, -leaving his horse picketed on good grass along the -bottom, he climbed to a position where he could -see the trail without being seen. Having settled -himself comfortably he improved the wait by -trying to think out the best way to accomplish -the work he had set himself to do. Shooting -was too common and hardly justifiable unless -Mr. Worth forced the issue with weapons of war.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The time passed slowly and he was relieved -when a horseman appeared far to the north and -jogged toward him, riding with the careless -grace of one at home in the saddle. Being -thoroughly familiar with the trail and the surrounding -country the rider looked straight ahead as if -attention to the distance yet untraveled might -make it less. He passed within twenty feet of -the watcher and went on his way undisturbed. -Hopalong waited until he was out of sight -around a hill and then, vaulting into the saddle, -rode after him, still puzzled as to how he would -proceed about the business in hand. He -dismounted at the bunkhouse and nodded to those -who lingered near the wash bench awaiting their -turn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just in time to feed," remarked one of the -punchers. "Watch yore turn at th' basins—every -man for hisself 's th' rule."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," Hopalong laughed. "But is -there any chance to get a job here?" he asked, -anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You 'll have to quiz th' Ol' Man—here he -comes now," and the puncher waved at the -approaching foreman. "Hey, Joe! Got a job for -this hombre?" he called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The foreman keenly scrutinized the newcomer, -as he always examined strangers. The two -guns swinging low on the hips caught his eyes -instantly but he showed no particular interest in -them, notwithstanding the fact that they -proclaimed a gunman. "Why I reckon I got a job -for you," he said. "I been waitin' to keep -somebody over on Cherokee Range. But it's time to -eat: we'll talk later."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the meal the outfit passed the time in -various ways until bed-time, the foreman -talking to the new member of his family. During -the night the foreman awakened several times -and looked toward the newcomer's bunk but -found nothing suspicious. After breakfast he -called Hopalong and one of the others to him. -"Ned," he said, "take Cassidy over to his range -and come right back. Hey, Charley! You an' -Jim take them poles down to th' ford an' fence -in that quicksand just south of it. Ben says -he 's been doin' nothin' but pullin' cows outen -it. All right, Tim; comin' right away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ned and the new puncher lost no time but -headed east at once with a packhorse carrying a -week's provisions for one man. The country -grew rougher rapidly and when they finally -reached the divide a beautiful sight lay below -them, stretching as far as eye could see to the -east. In the middle distance gleamed the -Cherokee, flowing toward the south through its -valley of rocks, canyons, cliffs, draws and timber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There 's th' hut," said Ned, pointing to a -small gray blot against the dead black of a -towering cliff. "Th' spring's just south of it. -Bucket Hill, up north there, is th' north -boundary; Twin Spires, south yonder is th' other end; -an' th' Cherokee will stop you on th' east side. -You ride in every Sat'day if you wants. Don't -get lonesome," he grinned and, wheeling -abruptly, went back the way they had come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext" id="id1"><span>Hopalong shook his head in disgust. To be -sidetracked like this was maddening. It had -taken three hours of hard traveling over rough -country to get where he was and it would take as -long to return; and all for nothing! He -regarded the pack animal with a grin, shrugged his -shoulders and led the way toward the hut, the -pack horse following obediently. It was another -hour before he finally reached the little cabin, -for the way was strange and rough. During this -time he had talked aloud, for he had the tricks -of his kind and when alone he talked to himself. -When he reached the hut he relieved the pack -horse of its load, carrying the stuff inside. -Closing the door and blocking it with a rock he -found the spring, drank his fill and then let the -horses do likewise. Then he mounted and started -back over the rough trail, thinking out loud and -confiding to his horse and he entered a narrow -defile close to the top of the divide, promising -dire things to the foreman. Suddenly a rope -settled over him, pinned his arms to his -sides and yanked him from the saddle before he -had time to think. He landed on his head and -was dazed as he sat up and looked around. The -foreman's rifle confronted him, and behind the -foreman's feet were his two Colts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You talks too much," sneered the man with -the drop. "I suspicioned you th' minute I laid -eyes on you. It 'll take a better man than you -to get that five hundred reward. I reckon th' -Sheriff was too scared to come hisself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong shook his head as if to clear it. -What was the man talking about? Who was -the sheriff? He gave it up, but would not -betray his ignorance. Yes; he had talked too -much. He felt of his head and was mildly -surprised to see his hand covered with blood when he -glanced at it. "Five hundred 's a lot of money," -he muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blood money!" snapped the foreman. -"You had a gall tryin' to get me. Why, I been -lookin' for somebody to try it for two years. -An' I was ready every minute of all that time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly it came to Hopalong and with it the -realization of how foolish it would be to deny -the part ascribed to himself. The rope was -loose and his arms were practically free; the -foreman had dropped the lariat and was depending -upon his gun. The captive felt of his head -again and, putting his hands behind him for -assistance in getting up, arose slowly to his feet. -In one of the hands was a small rock that it had -rested upon during the effort of rising. At -the movement the foreman watched him closely -and ordered him not to take a step if he wanted -to live a little longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I reckon I 'll have to shoot you," he -announced. "I dass n't let you loose to foller -me all over th' country. Anyhow, I 'd have to -do it sooner or later. I wish you was Phelps, -d—n him; but he's a wise sheriff. Better -stand up agin' that wall. I gotta do it; an' you -deserve it, you Judas!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Meanin' yo're Christ?" sneered Hopalong. -"Did you kill th' other feller like that? If I 'd -'a' knowed that I 'd 'a' slapped yore dawg's face -at th' bunkhouse an' made you take an even -break. Shore you got nerve enough to shoot -straight if I looks at you while yo 're aimin'?" He -laughed cynically. "I don't want to close -my eyes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The foreman's face went white and he half -lowered the rifle as he took a step forward. -Hopalong leaped sideways and his arm straightened -out, the other staggering under the blow -of the missile. Leaping forward Hopalong ran -into a cloud of smoke and staggered as he jumped -to close quarters. His hand smashed full in the -foreman's face and his knee sank in the -foreman's groin. They went down, the foreman -weak from the kick and Hopalong sick and weak -from the bullet that had grazed the bone of his -bad thigh. And lying on the ground they fought -in a daze, each incapable of inflicting serious -injury for awhile. But the foreman grew stronger -as his enemy grew weaker from loss of blood -and, wriggling from under his furious -antagonist, he reached for his Colt. Hopalong threw -himself forward and gripped the gun wrist -between his teeth and closed his jaws until they -ached. But the foreman, pounding ceaselessly -on the other's face with his free hand, made the -jaws relax and drew the weapon. Then he saw -all the stars in the heavens as Hopalong's head -crashed full against his jaw and before he could -recover the gun was pinned under his enemy's -knee. Hopalong's head crashed again against -the foreman's jaw and his right hand gripped the -corded throat while the left, its thumb inside the -foreman's cheek and its fingers behind an ear, -tugged and strained at the distorted face. -Growling like wild beasts they strained and -panted, and then, suddenly, Hopalong's grip -relaxed and he made one last, desperate effort to -bring his strength back into one furious attack; -but in vain. The battered foreman, quick to -sense the situation, wrestled his adversary to one -side long enough to grab the Colt from under -the shifting knee. As he clutched it a shot rang -out and the weapon dropped from his nerveless -hand before he could pull the trigger. An -exulting, savage yell roared in his ears and in the -next instant he seemed to leave the ground and -soar through space. He dropped ten feet away -and lay dazed and helpless as a knee crashed -against his chest. Sammy Porter, his face -working curiously with relief and rage, rolled him -against the wall of the defile and struck him over -the head with a rifle butt, first disarming him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong opened his eyes and looked around, -dazed and sick. The foreman, bound hand and -foot by a forty-five foot lariat, lay close to the -base of the wall and stared sullenly at the sky. -Sammy was coming up the trail with a dripping -sombrero held carefully in his hands and was -growling and talking it all over. Hopalong -looked down at his thigh and saw a heavy, -blood-splotched bandage fastened clumsily in place. -Glancing at Sammy again he idly noted that part -of the youth's blue-flannel shirt was missing. -Curiously, it matched the bandage. He closed -his eyes and tried to think what it was all about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy ambled up to him, threw some water -in the bruised face and then grinned cheerfully -at the language he evoked. Producing a flask -and holding it up to the light, Sammy slid his -thumb to a certain level and then shoved the -bottle against his friend's teeth. "Huh!" he -chuckled, yanking the bottle away. "You'll be -all right in a couple of days. But you shore are -one h—l of a sight—it's a toss-up between you -an' Atkins."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was night. Hopalong stirred and arose on -one elbow and noticed that he was lying on a -blanket that covered a generous depth of leaves -and pine boughs. The sap-filled firewood -crackled and popped and hissed and whistled under -the licking attack of the greedy flames, which -flared up and died down in endless alternation, -and which grotesquely revealed to Hopalong's -throbbing eyes a bound figure lying on another -blanket. That, he decided, was the foreman. -Letting his gaze wander around the lighted circle -he made out a figure squatting on the other side -of the fire, and concluded it was Sammy Porter. -"What you doin', Kid?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy arose and walked over to him. "Oh, -just watchin' a fool puncher an' five hundred -dollars," he grinned. "How you feelin' now, -you ol' sage hen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good," replied the invalid, and, comparatively, -it was the truth. "Fine an' strong," he -added, which was not the truth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the way to talk," cheered the Cub. -"You shore had one fine séance. You earned -that five hundred, all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong reflected and then looked across at -the prisoner. "He can fight like the devil," he -muttered. "Why, I kicked him hard enough to -kill anybody else." He turned again and looked -Sammy in the eyes, smiling as best he could. -"There ain't no five hundred for me, Kid. I -did n't come for that, did n't know nothin' about -it. An' it's blood money, besides. We 'll turn -him loose if he 'll get out of the country, hey? -We 'll give him a chance; either that or you take -th' reward."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy stared, grunted and stared again. -"What you ravin' about?" he demanded. "An' -you didn't come after him for that money?" he -asked, sarcastically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong nodded and smiled again. "That's -right, Kid," he answered, thoughtfully. "I -come down to make him get out of th' country. -You let him go after we get out of this. I -reckon I got yore share of the reward right here -in my pocket; purty near that much, anyhow. -You take it an' let him vamoose. What you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy rose, angry and disgusted. His -anger spoke first. "You go to h—l with yore -money! I don't want it!" Then, slowly and -wonderingly spoke his disgust. "He 's yourn; -do what you want. But I here remarks, frank -an' candid, open an' so all may hear, that yo 're -a large, puzzlin' d—d fool. Now lay back on -that blanket an' go to sleep afore I changes my -mind!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy drifted past the prisoner and looked -down at him. "Hear that?" he demanded. -There was no answer and he grunted. "Huh! -You heard it, all right; an' it plumb stunned -you." Passing on he grabbed the last blanket -in sight, it was on the foreman's horse, and rolled -up in it, feet to the fire. His gun he placed -under the saddle he had leaned against, which -now made his pillow. As he squirmed into the -most comfortable position he could find under -the circumstances he raised his head and glanced -across at his friend. "Huh!" he growled -softly. "That's th' worst of them sentimental -fellers. That gal shore wrapped him 'round -her li'l finger all right. Oh, well," he sighed. -"'Tain't none of my doin's, thank the Lord; I -got sense!" And with the satisfaction of this -thought still warm upon him he closed his eyes -and went to sleep, confident that the slightest -sound would awaken him; and fully justified in -his confidence.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="his-code"><span class="large">XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">HIS CODE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mr. "Youbet" Somes, erstwhile foreman -of the Two-X-Two ranch, in Arizona, -and now out of a job, rode gloomily toward -Kit, a town between him and his destination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Needless to say, he was a cowman through -and through. More than that, he was so -saturated with cowmen's traditions as to resent -pugnaciously anything which flouted them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was of the old school, and would not -submit quietly to two things, among others, which -an old-school cowman hated—wire fences and -sheep. To this he owed his present ride, for he -hated wire fences cordially. They meant the -passing of the free, open range, of straight trails -across country; they meant a great change, an -intolerable condition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yessir, bronch! Things are gettin' damnabler -every year, with th' railroads, tourists, -nesters, barb' wire, an' sheep. Last year, it was a -windmill, that screeched till our hair riz up. It -would n't work when we wanted it to, an' we -could n't stop it when it once got started.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It gave us no sleep, no peace; an' it killed -Bob Cousins—swung round with th' wind an' -knocked him off 'n th' platform, sixty feet, to -th' ground. Bob allus did like to monkey with -th' buzz saw. I shore told him not to go up -there, because th' cussed thing was loaded; but, -bein' mule-headed, he knowed more 'n me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But this year! Lord—but that was an awful -pile of wire, bronch! Three strands high, an' -over a hundred an' fifty miles round that -pasture. That was a' insult, bronch; an' I never -swaller 'em. That's what put me an' you out -here, in th' middle of nowhere, tryin' to find a -way out. G'wan, now! You ain't goin' to rest -till I gets off you. G'wan, I told you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Somes was riding east, bound for the -Bar-20, where he had friends. For a year or two, -he had heard persistent rumors to the effect -that Buck Peters had more cows than he knew -what to do with; and he argued rightly that the -Bar-20 foreman could find a place for an old -friend, whose ability was unquestioned. Of one -thing he was certain—there were no wire fences, -down there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was dusk when he dismounted in front of -Logan's, in Kit, and went inside. The bartender -glanced up, reaching for a bottle on the -shelf beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Youbet nodded. "You got it first pop. Have -one with me. I 'm countin' on staying over in -town tonight. Got a place for me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shore have—upstairs in th' attic. Want -grub, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I sorter hope to have somethin' to eat -afore I pull out. Here's how!" And when -Mr. Somes placed his empty glass on the bar, he -smiled good-naturedly. "That's good stuff. -Much goin' on in town?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reckon you can get a game most anywhere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where do I get that grub? Here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No—down th' street. Ridin' far?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—a little. Goin' down to th' Bar-20 -for a job punchin'. I hear Peters has got -more cows than he can handle. Know anybody -down there you wants to send any word to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll be hanged if I know," laughed the -bartender. "I know a lot of fellers, but they shift -so I can't keep track of 'em, nohow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A man in a far corner pushed back his chair, -and approached the bar, scowling as he glanced -at Youbet. "Gimme another," he ordered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, hullo, stranger!" exclaimed Youbet. -"I did n't see you before. Have one with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other looked him squarely in the eyes. -"Ex-cuse me, stranger—I 'm a sheepman, an' I -don't drink with cowmen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, ex-cuse </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>!" retorted Youbet, like a -flash. "If I 'd 'a' knowed you was a sheepman, -I wouldn't 'a' asked you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheepman drank his liquor and, returning -to his corner, placed his elbows on the table, and -his chin in his hands, apparently paying no -further attention to the others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I can't get a job with Peters, I can try th' -C-80 or Double Arrow," continued Youbet, as -he toyed with his glass. "If I can't get on with -one of them, I reckons Waffles, of th' O-Bar-O, -will find a place for me, though I don't like that -country a whole lot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bartender hesitated for a moment. "Do -you know Waffles?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shore—know 'em all. Why? Do you know him, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; but I 've heard of him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That so? He 's a good feller, he is. I 've -punched with both him an' Peters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I heard he wasn't," replied the bartender, -slowly but carelessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you heard wrong, all right," rejoined -Youbet. "He's one of us old fellers—hates -sheep, barb' wire, an' nesters as bad as I do; an' -sonny," he continued, warming as he went on. -"Th' cow country ain't what it used to be—not -no way. I can remember when there war n't no -wire, no nesters, an' no sheep. An', between -you and me, I don't know which is th' worst. -Every time I runs up agin' one of 'em, I says -it's th' worst; but I guess it's just about a even -break."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I heard about yore friend Waffles through -sheep," replied the bartender. "He chased a -sheep outfit out of a hill range near his ranch, -an' killed a couple of 'em, a-doin' it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Served 'em right—served 'em right," -responded Youbet, turning and walking toward -the door. "They ain't got no business on a -cattle range—not nohow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man in the corner started to follow, half -raising his hand, as though to emphasize -something he was about to say; but changed -his mind, and sullenly resumed his brooding -attitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reckon I 'll put my cayuse in yore corral, -an' look th' town over," Youbet remarked, over -his shoulder. "Remember, yo 're savin' a bed for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he stepped to the street, the man in the -corner lazily arose and looked out of the window, -swearing softly while he watched the man who -hated sheep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, there 's another friend of yore business," -laughed the bartender, leaning back to -enjoy the other's discomfiture. "</span><em class="italics">He</em><span> don't like -'em, neither."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He 's a fool of a mossback, so far behind th' -times he don't know who 's President," retorted -the other, still staring down the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he don't know that this has got to be -a purty fair sheep town—that's shore."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He 'll find out, if he makes many more talks -like that—an' that ain't no dream, neither!" -snapped the sheepman. He wheeled, and -frowned at the man behind the bar. "You see -what he gets, if he opens his cow mouth in here -tonight. Th' boys hate this kind real fervent; -an' when they finds out that he 's a side pardner -of that coyote Waffles, they won't need much -excuse. You wait—that's all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, what's th' use of gettin' all riled up -about it?" demanded the bartender easily. "He -did n't know </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> was a sheepman, when he made -his first break. An' lemme tell you somethin' -you want to remember—them old-time cowmen -can use a short gun somethin' slick. They 've got -'em trained. Bet </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> can work th' double roll -without shootin' hisself full of lead." The -speaker grinned exasperatingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes!" exploded the sheepman, who had tried -to roll two guns at once, and had spent ten days -in bed as a result of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bartender laughed softly as he recalled -the incident. "Have you tried it since?" he inquired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go to th' devil!" grinned the other, heading -for the door. "But he 'll get in trouble, if he -spouts about hatin' sheep, when th' boys come -in. You better get him drunk an' lock him in th' -attic, before then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"G'wan! I ain't playin' guardian to nobody," -rejoined the bartender. "But remember what I -said—them old fellers can use 'em slick an' -rapid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheepman went out as Youbet returned; -and the latter seated himself, crossing his legs -and drawing out his pipe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bartender perfunctorily drew a cloth -across the bar, and smiled. "So you don't like -wire, sheep, or nesters," he remarked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Somes looked up, in surprise, forgetting -that he held a lighted match between thumb and -finger. "Like 'em! Huh, I reckon not. I 'm -lookin' for a job because of wire. H—l!" he -exclaimed, dropping the match, and rubbing his -finger. "That's twice I did that fool thing in -a week," he remarked, in apology and -self-condemnation, and struck another match.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was foreman of my ranch for nigh onto -ten years. It was a good ranch, an' I was -satisfied till last year, when they made me put up -a windmill that did n't mill, but screeched awful. -I stood for that because I could get away from -it in th' daytime.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But this year! One day, not very long ago, -I got a letter from th' owners, an' it says for me -to build a wire fence around our range. It went -on to say that there was two carloads of barb' -wire at Mesquite. We was to tote that wire -home, an' start in. If two carloads wasn't -enough, they 'd send us more. We had one -busted-down grub waggin, an' Mesquite shore -was fifty miles away—which meant a whoppin' -long job totin'.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I saw th' boys, that night, I told 'em -that I 'd got orders to raise their pay five dollars -a month—which made 'em cheer. Then I told -'em that was so providin' they helped me build -a barb' wire fence around th' range—which -did n't make 'em cheer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Th' boundary lines of th' range we was usin' -was close onto a hundred an' fifty miles long, an' -three strands of wire along a trail like that is -some job. We was to put th' posts twelve feet -apart, an' they was to be five feet outen th' -ground an' four feet in it—which makes 'em -nine feet over all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was n't no posts at Mesquite. Them -posts was supposed to be growin' freelike on th' -range, just waitin' for us to cut 'em, skin 'em, -tote an' drop 'em every twelve feet along a line -a hundred an' fifty miles long. An' then there -was to be a hole dug for every post, an' tampin', -staplin', an' stringin' that hell-wire. An' don't -forget that lone, busted-down grub waggin that -was to do that totin'!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was some excitement on th' Two-X-Two -that night, an' a lot of figgerin'; us bein' -some curious about how many posts was needed, -an' how many holes we was to dig to fit th' -aforesaid posts. We made it sixty-six thousand. -Think of it! An' only eight of us to tackle a -job like that, an' ride range at th' same time!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, ho!" roared the bartender, hugging himself, -and trying to carry a drink to the narrator -at the same time. "Go on! That's good!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is, is it?" snorted Youbet. "Huh! You -wouldn't 'a' thought so, if you was one of us -eight. Well, I set right down an' writ a long -letter—took six cents' worth of stamps—an' -gave our views regardin' wire fences in general -an' this one of ourn in particular. I hated -fences, an' do yet; an' so 'd my boys hate 'em, an' -they do yet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In due time, I got a answer, which come for -two cents. It says: 'Build that fence.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I sent Charley over to Mesquite to look -over them cars of wire. He saw 'em, both of -'em. An' th' agent saw him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Th' agent was a' important man, an' he grabs -Charley quick. 'Hey, you Two-X-Two puncher—you -get that wire home quick. It went past -here three times before they switched it, an' I 've -been gettin' blazes from th' company ever since. -We needs th' cars.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Don't belong to me,' says Charley. 'I -shore don't want it. I 'm eatin' beans an' bacon -instead.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'You send for that wire!' yells th' agent, wild-like.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Charley winks. 'Can't you keep it passin' -this station till it snows hard? Have a drink.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, th' agent wouldn't drink, an' he -wouldn't send that pore wire out into a cold -world no more; an' so Charley comes home an' -reports, him lookin' wanlike. When he told us, -he looked sort of funny, an' blurts out that his -mother went an' died up in Laramie, an' he must -shore 'nuff rustle up there an' bury her. He went.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then Fred Ball begun to have pains in his -stomach, an' said it was appendix somethin', what -he had been readin' about in th' papers. He had -to go to Denver, an' get a good doctor, or he 'd -shore die. He went.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carson had to go to Santa Fé to keep some -of his numerous city lots from bein' sold off by -th' sheriff. He went.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Th' rest, bein' handicapped by th' good start -th' others had made in corrallin' all th' excuses, -said they 'd go for th' wire. They went.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I waited four days, an' then I went after -'em. When I got to th' station, I sees th' agent -out sizin' up our wire; an' when I hails, he jumps -my way quick, an' grabs my laig tight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'You take that wire home!' he yells.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Shore,' says I soothingly. 'You looks mad,' I adds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Mad! Mad!' he shouts, hoppin' round, but -hangin' onto my laig like grim death. 'Mad! -I 'm goin' </span><em class="italics">loco</em><span>—crazy! I can't sleep! There 's -twenty letters an' messages on my table, tellin' -me to get that wire off'n th' cars an' send th' -empties back on th' next freight! You've got to -take it—</span><em class="italics">got to</em><span>!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bartender shocked his nervous system by -drinking plain water by mistake, but he listened -eagerly. "Yes? What then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then I asks him where I can find my -men, an' team, an' waggin'. He tells me. Th' -team an' waggin is in a corral down th' street, -but he don't know where th' men are. They -held a gun to his head, an' said they 'd kill him -if he didn't flag th' next train for 'em. Th' -next train was a through express, carryin' mail. -He was n't dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He showed me ten more letters an' messages, -regardin' th' flaggin' of a contract-mail train for -four fares; an' some of them letters must 'a' -been written by a old-time cowman, they was -that eloquent an' God-fearin'. Then I went.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Charley was twenty years old; an' we -figgered that, when th' last staple was drove in -th' last post, he 'd 'a' been dead ten years! -Where did I come in, the—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Lord!" sighed the bartender, holding his -sides, and trying to straighten his face so that he -could talk out of the middle of it. "That's th' -best ever! Have another drink!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I ain't tellin' my troubles for liquor," snorted -Youbet. "You have one with me. Here comes -some customers down th' street, I reckon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say!" exclaimed the bartender hurriedly. -"You keep mum about sheep. This is a red-hot -sheep town, an' it hates Waffles an' all his -friends. Hullo, boys!" he called to four men, -who filed into the room. "Where 's th' rest of you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Comin' in later. Same thing, Jimmy," replied -Clayton, chief herder. "An' give us th' cards."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you seen Price?" asked Towne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; he was in here a few minutes ago. -What 'd you say, Schultz?" the bartender asked, -turning to the man who pulled at his sleeve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I said dot you vas nod right aboud vat you -said de odder day. Chust now I ask Clayton, -und he said you vas nod."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, Dutchy—all right!" laughed the -bartender. "Then it's on me this time, ain't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Youbet walked to the bar. "Say, where do I -get that grub? It's about time for me to -mosey off an' feed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Next building—and you'll take mutton if -yo 're wise," replied the bartender, in a low voice. -"Th' hash is awful, an' the beef is tough," he -added, a little louder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mutton be damned!" snorted Youbet, stamping -out. "I eat what I punch!" And his growls -became lost in the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Schultz glanced up. "Yah! Und he shoot -vat I eat, tarn him, ven he gan!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, put yore ante in, an' don't talk so much!" -rejoined Towne. "He ain't going to shoot </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It 'll cost you two bits to come in," remarked Clayton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' two more," added Towne, raising the ante.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goot! I blay mit you. But binochle iss der game!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'll tell you a good story about a barb' wire -fence tomorrow, fellers," promised the -bartender, grinning.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The poker game had been going for some time -before further remarks were made about the -cowman who had left, and then it was Clayton who -spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, Jimmy!" he remarked, as Schultz dealt. -"Who is yore leather-pants friend who don't like -mutton?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bartender lifted a bottle, and replaced it -with great care. "Oh, just a ranch foreman, -out of a job. He's a funny old feller."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So? An' what's so funny about him? Get -in there, Towne, if you wants to do any playin' -with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, he was ordered to build a hundred an' -fifty miles of wire fence around his range, an' he -jumped ruther than do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yas—an' most of it government land, I -reckon," interposed Towne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pshaw! It's an old game with them," -laughed Clayton. "Th' law don't get to them; -an' if they 've got a good outfit, nobody has got -any chance agin 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Py Gott, dot's right!" grunted Schultz.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shore, it is," responded Towne, forgetting -the game. "Take that Apache Hills run-in. -Waffles did n't have no more right to that range -than anybody else, but that did n't make no -difference. He threw a couple of outfits in there, -penned us in th' cabin, killed MacKay, an' -shot th' rest of us up plenty. Then he threatened -to slaughter our herd if we did n't pull out. -By God, I 'd like to get a cowman like him up -here, where th' tables are turned around on th' -friends proposition."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hullo, boys!" remarked the bartender to the -pair who came in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just in time. Get chairs, an' take hands," -invited Clayton, moving over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's th' cowman yo're talkin' about?" -asked Baxter, as he leaned lazily against the -bar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, all of 'em," rejoined Towne surlily. -"There 's one in town, now, who don't like sheep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That so?" queried Baxter slowly. "I -reckon he better keep his mouth shut, then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he 's all right! He 's a jolly old geezer," -assured the bartender. "He just talks to hear -hisself—one of them old-timers what can't get -right to th' way things has changed on th' range. -It was them boys that did great work when th' -range was wild."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, an' it's them bull-headed old fools what -are raisin' all th' hell with th' sheep," retorted -Towne, frowning darkly as he remembered some -of the indignities he had borne at the hands of cowmen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish his name was Waffles." Clayton -smiled significantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rainin' again," remarked a man in the doorway, -stamping in. "Reckon it ain't never goin' to stop."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where you been so long, Price?" asked Clayton, -as a salutation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, just shiftin' about. That cow wrastler -raised th' devil in th' hotel," Price replied. "Old -fool! They brought him mutton, an' he wanted -to clean out th' place. Said he 'd as soon eat -barb' wire. They 're feedin' him hash an' canned -stuff, now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He 'll get hurt, if he don't look out," -remarked Clayton. "Who is he, anyhow, Price?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't know his name; but he 's from Arizona, -on his way to th' Pecos country. Says he 's a -friend of Buck Peters an' Waffles. To use one -of his own expressions, he 's a old mosshead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Friend of Waffles, hey?" exclaimed Towne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yumpin' Yimminy!" cried Oleson, in the same breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if he knows when he's well off, he 'll -stay away from here, an' keep his mouth closed," -said Clayton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, let him alone! He's one agin' th' whole -town—an' a good old feller, at that," hastily -assured the bartender. "It ain't his fault that -Waffles buffaloed you fellers out of th' Hills, is -it? He's goin' on early tomorrow; so let him be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You 'll get yoreself in trouble, Jimmy, m' -boy, if you inserts yoreself in this," warned -Towne. "It was us agin' a whole section, an' -we got ours. Let him take his, if he talks too -much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shore," replied Price. "I heard him shoot -off his mouth, an hour ago, an' he's got -altogether too much to say. You mind th' bar an' -yore own business, Jimmy. We ain't kids."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go you two bits better," said Clayton, -shoving out a coin. "Gimme some cards, Towne. -It 'll cost you a dollar to see our raises."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Baxter walked over to watch the play. "I 'm -comin' in next game. Who 's winnin', now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reckon I am; but we ain't much more 'n got -started," Clayton replied. "Did you call, -Towne? Why, I 've got three little tens. You -got anythin' better?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never saw such luck!" exclaimed Towne -disgustedly. "Dutchy, yo 're a Jonah."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Damn th' mutton, says I. It was even in -that hash!" growled a voice, just outside the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A moment later, Youbet Somes entered, -swinging his sombrero energetically to shake off -the water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Damn th' rain, too, an' this wart of a town. -A man can't get nothin' fit to eat for love or -money, on a sheep range. Gimme a drink, -sonny! Mebby it 'll cut th' taste of that rank -tallow out 'n my mouth. Th' reason there is -sheep on this earth of our'n is that th' devil -chased 'em out 'n his place—an' no blame to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He drank half his liquor, and, placing the -glass on the bar beside him, turned to watch the -game. "Ah, strangers—that's th' only game, -after all. I 've dabbled in 'em all from faro to -roulette, but that's th' boss of 'em all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See you an' call," remarked Clayton, ignoring -the newcomer. "What you got, you Dutch pagan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Zwei Kaisers</em><span> und a bair of chackasses, mit a -deuce."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kings up!" exclaimed Clayton. "Why, say—you -bet th' worst of anybody I ever knew! -You 'll balk on bettin' two bits on threes, and -plunge on a bluff. I reckoned you did n't have -nothin'. Why ain't you more consistent?" he -asked, winking at Towne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gonsisdency iss no chewel in dis game—it -means go broke," placidly grunted Schultz, -raking in his winnings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His friend Schneider smiled.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Coyotes are gettin' too numerous, this year," -Baxter remarked, shuffling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Youbet pushed his sombrero back on his head. -"They don't get numerous on a cow range," he -said significantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh!" snorted Baxter. "They've got too -much respect to stay on one longer than they 've -got to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They'd ruther be with their woolly-coated -cousins," rejoined the cowman quietly. It was -beneath his dignity as a cowman to pay much -attention to what sheepmen said, yet he could not -remain silent under such a remark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He regarded sheep herders, those human -beings who walked at their work, as men who had -reached the lowest rung in the ladder of human -endeavors. His belief was not original with him, -but was that of many of his school. He was a -horseman, a mounted man, and one of the aristocracy -of the range; they were, to him, the rabble, -and almost beneath his contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Besides, it was commonly believed by cowmen -that sheep destroyed the grass as far as cattle -grazing was concerned—and this was the chief -reason for the animosity against sheep and their -herders, which burned so strongly in the hearts -of cattle owners and their outfits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Youbet drained his glass, and continued: -"The coyote leaves th' cattle range for th' same -good reason yore sheep leave it—because they are -chased out, or killed. Naturally, blood kin will -hang together in banishment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know a whole lot, don't you?" snorted -Clayton, with sarcasm. "Yo 're shore wise, you are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is so vise as a—a gow," remarked Schultz, grinning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You 'll know more, when you get as old as -me," replied the ex-foreman, carefully placing -the empty glass on the bar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want to get as old as you, if I have -to lose all my common sense," retorted Clayton -angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' be a damned nuisance generally," observed Towne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 've seen a lot of things in my life," Youbet -began, trying to ignore the tones of the others. -They were young men, and he knew that youth -grew unduly heated in argument. "I saw th' -comin' of th' Texas drive herds, till th' range -was crowded where th' year before there was -nothin'. I saw th' comin' of th' sheep—an' -barb' wire, I 'm sorry to say. Th' sheep came -like locusts, leavin' a dyin' range behind 'em. -Thin, half-starved cattle showed which way they -went. You can't tell me nothin' I don't know -about sheep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> 've seen sheep dyin' in piles on th' -open range," cried Clayton, his own wrongs -lashing him into a rage. "</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> 've seen 'em dynamited, -an' drowned and driven hell-to-split over -canyons! I 've had my men taunted, an' chased, an' -killed—</span><em class="italics">killed</em><span>, by God!—just because they tried -to make a' honest livin'! Who did it all? Who -killed my men an' my sheep? </span><em class="italics">Who did it?</em><span>" he -shouted, taking a short step forward, while an -endorsing growl ran along the line of sheepmen -at his side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cowpunchers—they did it! They killed 'em—an' -why? Because we tried to use th' grass -that we had as much right to as they had—</span><em class="italics">that 's</em><span> -why!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Th' cows was here first," replied Youbet, -keenly alert, but not one whit abashed by the -odds, long as they were. "It was theirs because -they was there first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was not theirs, no more'n th' sun was!" -cried Towne, unable to allow his chief to do all -the talking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You said you knowed Waffles," continued -Clayton loudly. "Well, he 's another of you -old-time cowmen! He killed MacKay—murdered -him—because we was usin' a hill range a day's -ride from his own grass! He had twenty men -like hisself to back him up. If we 'd been as -many as them, they would n't 'a' tried it—an' -you know it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know anything of th' kind, but I do -know—" began Youbet; but Schultz interrupted -him with a remark intended to contain humor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ven you say you doand know anyt'ing, you -know somedings; ven you know dot you doand -know noddings, den you know somedings. Und -das iss so—yah."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who th' devil told you to stick yore Dutch -mouth—" retorted Youbet; but Clayton cut -him short.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So </span><em class="italics">yo 're</em><span> a old-timer, hey?" cried the -sheepman. "Well, by God, yore old-time friend -Waffles is a coward, a murderer, an'—"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 83%" id="figure-60"> -<span id="yo-re-a-liar-rang-out-the-vibrant-voice-of-the-cowman"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""Yo're a liar!" rang out the vibrant voice of the cowman" src="images/img-378.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"Yo're a liar!" rang out the vibrant voice of the cowman</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yo 're a liar!" rang out the vibrant voice of -the cowman, his gun out and leveled in a flash. -The seven had moved forward as one man, -actuated by the same impulse; and their hands were -moving toward their guns when the crashes of -Youbet's weapon reverberated in the small room, -the acrid smoke swirling around him as though to -shield him from the result of his folly—a result -which he had weighed and then ignored.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Clayton dropped, with his mouth still open. -Towne's gun chocked back in the scabbard as its -owner stumbled blindly over a chair and went -down, never to rise. Schultz fired once, and fell -back across the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The three shots had followed one another with -incredible quickness; and the seven, not believing -that one man would dare attack so many, had not -expected his play. Before the stunned sheepmen -could begin firing, three were dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Price, badly wounded, fired as he plunged to -the wall for support; and the other three were -now wrapped in their own smoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wounded in several places, with his gun -empty, Youbet hurled the weapon at Price, and -missed by so narrow a margin that the sheepman's -aim was spoiled. Youbet now sprang to the bar, -and tried to vault over it, to get to the gun which -he knew always lay on the shelf behind it. As -his feet touched the upper edge of the counter, -he grunted and, collapsing like a jackknife, -loosed his hold, and fell to the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mein Gott!</em><span>" groaned Schneider, as he tried -to raise himself. He looked around in a dazed -manner, hardly understanding just what had -happened. "He vas mat; crazy mat!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oleson arose unsteadily to his feet, and groped -his way along, the wall to where Price lay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fallen man looked up, in response to the -touch on his shoulder; and he swore feebly: -"Damn that fool—that idiot!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shut up, an' git out!" shouted the bartender, -standing rigidly upright, with a heavy Colt in his -upraised hand. There were tears in his eyes, -and his voice broke from excitement. "He -wouldn't swaller yore insults! He knowed he -was a better man! Get out of here, every -damned one of you, or I 'll begin where he -stopped. G 'wan—</span><em class="italics">get out</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The four looked at him, befuddled and sorely -hurt; but they understood the attitude, if they -did not quite grasp the words—and they knew -that he meant what he looked. Staggering and -hobbling, they finally found the door, and -plunged out to the street, to meet the crowd of -men who were running toward the building.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jimmy, choking with anger and with respect -for the man who had preferred death to insults, -slammed shut the door and, dropping the bar -into place, turned and gazed at the quiet figure -huddled at the base of the counter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Old man," he muttered, "now I understands -why th' sheep don't stay long on a cattle range."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="sammy-hunts-a-job"><span class="large">XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">SAMMY HUNTS A JOB</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Sammy Porter, detailed by Hopalong, -the trail-boss, rode into Truxton -three days before the herd was due, to notify the -agent that cars were wanted. Three thousand -three-year-olds were on their way to the packing -houses and must be sent through speedily. -Sammy saw the agent and, leaving him much less -sweeter in temper than when he had found him, -rode down the dismal street kicking up a -prodigious amount of dust. One other duty -demanded attention and its fulfillment was promised -by the sign over the faded pine front of the -first building.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Restaurant," he read aloud. "That's mine. -Beans, bacon an' biscuits for 'most a month! But -now I 'm goin' to forget that Blinky Thompkins -ever bossed a trail wagon an' tried to cook."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dismounting, he glanced in the window and -pulled at the downy fuzz trying to make a -showing on his upper lip. "Purty, all right. Brown -hair an' I reckon brown eyes. Nice li'l girl. -Well, they don't make no dents on me no more," -he congratulated himself, and entered. His -twenty years fairly sagged with animosity -toward the fair sex, the intermittent smoke from -the ruins of his last love affair still painfully in -evidence at times. But careless as he tried to be -he could not banish the swaggering mannerisms -of Youth in the presence of Maid, or change his -habit of speech under such conditions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well," he smiled. "Here I 'are' again. -Li'l Sammy in search of his grub. An' if it's -as nice as you he 'll shore have to flag his outfit -an' keep this town all to hisself. Got any -chicken?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The maid's nose went up and Sammy noticed -that it tilted a trifle, and he cocked his head on -one side to see it better. And the eyes were -brown, very big and very deep—they possessed -a melting quality he had never observed before. -The maid shrugged her shoulders and swung -around, the tip-tilt nose going a bit higher.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy leaned back against the door and -nodded approval of the slender figure in -spic-and-span white. "Li'l Sammy is a fer-o-cious -cow-punch from a chickenless land," he observed, -sorrowfully. "There ain't </span><em class="italics">no</em><span> kinds of chickens. -Nothin' but men an' cattle an' misguided cooks; -an' beans, bacon an' biscuits. Li'l Miss, have -you a chicken for me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" The head went around again, Sammy -bending to one side to see it as long as he could. -The pink, shell-like ear that flirted with him -through the loosely-gathered, rebellious hair -caught his attention and he leveled an accusing -finger at it. "Naughty li'l ear, peekin' at -Sammy that-a-way! Oh, you stingy girl!" he -chided as the back of her head confronted him. -"Well, Sammy don't like girls, no matter how -pink their ears are, or turned up their noses, or -wonderful their eyes. He just wants chicken, -an' all th' fixin's. He 'll be very humble an' -grateful to Li'l Miss if she 'll tell him what he -can have. An' he 'll behave just like a -Sunday-school boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, you don't want to get mad at only me," -he continued after she refused to answer. -"Got any chicken? Got any—eggs? Lucky -Sammy! An' some nice ham? Two lucky -Sammies. An' some mashed potatoes? Fried? -Good. An' will Li'l Miss please make a brand -new cup of strong coffee? Then he 'll go over -an' sit in that nice chair an' watch an' listen. -But you ought n't get mad at him. Are you -really-an'-truly mad?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She swept down the room, into the kitchen -partitioned off at the farther end and slammed -the door. Sammy grinned, tugged at his -upper lip and fancy-stepped to the table. He -smoothed his tumbled hair, retied his neck-kerchief -and dusted himself off with his red bandanna -handkerchief. "Nice li'l town," he -soliloquized. "</span><em class="italics">Fine</em><span> li'l town. Dunno as I ought to -go back to th' herd—Hoppy did n't tell me to. -Reckon I 'll stick in town an' argue with th' -agent. If I argue with th' agent I 'll be busy; -an' I can't leave while I 'm busy." He leaned -back and chuckled. "Lucky me! If Hoppy -had gone an' picked Johnny to argue with th' -agent for three whole days where would </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> be? -But I gotta keep Johnny outa here, th' son-of-a-gun. -He ain't like me—he </span><em class="italics">likes</em><span> girls; an' he -ain't bashful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He picked up a paper lying on a chair near -him and looked it over until the kitchen door -squeaked. She carried a tray covered with a -snow-white napkin which looked like a -topographical map with its mountains and valleys -and plains. His chuckle was infectious to the -extent of a smile and her eyes danced as she -placed his dinner before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betcha it's fine," he grinned, shoveling sugar -into the inky coffee. "Blinky oughta have a -good look at </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> layout."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be too sure," she retorted. "Mrs. Olmstead -is sick and I 'm taking charge of -things for her. I 'm not a good cook."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothin 's th' matter with this," he assured -her between bites. "Lots better 'n most purty -girls can do. If Hopalong goes up against this -he 'll offer you a hundred a month an' throw -Blinky in to wash th' dishes. But he 'd have to -'point me guard, or you would n't have no time -to do no cookin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You 'd make a fine guard," she retorted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't believe it, huh? Jus' wait till you -know me better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know I 'm going to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm a good guesser. Jus' put a li'l pepper -right there on that yalla spot. Say, any chance -to get a job in this town?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I don't know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goin' to stay long?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't say. I won't go till Mrs. Olmstead -is well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not meanin' no harm to Mrs. Olmstead, of -course—but you don't </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> to go, do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do as I please."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I was thinkin'. Now, 'bout that job: any -chance? Any ranches near here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Several. But they want </span><em class="italics">men</em><span>. Are you a -real cowboy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy folded his hands and shook his head -sorrowfully. "Huh! Want </span><em class="italics">men</em><span>! Now if I -only had whiskers like Blinky. Why, 'course -I 'm a cowboy. Regular one—but I can -outgrow it easy. I 'm a sorta maverick an' I 'm -willin' to wear a nice brand. My name's -Sammy Porter," he suggested.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's nice. Mine is n't nice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Easy to change it. Really like mine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Coffee strong enough?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sumptious. How long's Mrs. Olmstead -going to be sick?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her face clouded. "I don't know. I hope -it will not be for long. She 's had </span><em class="italics">so</em><span> much -trouble the past year. Oh, wait! I forgot the -toast!" and she sped lightly away to rescue the -burning bread.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The front door opened and slammed shut, the -newcomer dropping into the nearest chair. He -pounded on the table. "Hello, there! I want -somethin' to eat, quick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy turned and saw a portly, flashily -dressed drummer whose importance was written -large all over him. "Hey!" barked the drummer, -"gimme something to eat. I can't wait all day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A vicious clang in the kitchen told that his -presence was known and resented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Sammy turned from the stranger he caught -sight of a pretty flushed face disappearing -behind the door jamb, the brown eyes snapping and -the red lips straight and compressed. His -glance, again traveling to the drummer, began -with the dusty patent leathers and went slowly -upward, resting boldly on the heavy face. -Sammy's expression told nothing and the newcomer, -glaring at him for an instant, looked over the -menu card and then stared at the partition, -fidgeting in his chair, thumping meanwhile on the -table with his fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At a sound from the kitchen Sammy turned -back to his table and smiled reassuringly as the -toast was placed before him. "I burned it and -had to make new," she said, the pink spots in her -cheeks a little deeper in color.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, th' other was good enough for me," he -replied. "Know Mrs. Olmstead a long time?" -he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ever since I was a little girl. She lived -near us in Clev—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cleveland," he finished. "State of Ohio," he -added, laughingly. "I 'll get it all before I go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed you won't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss," interrupted the drummer, "if you ain't -too busy, would you mind gettin' me a steak an' -some coffee?" The tones were weighted with -sarcasm and Sammy writhed in his chair. The -girl flushed, turned abruptly and went slowly -into the kitchen, from where considerable noise -now emanated. In a short time she emerged -with the drummer's order, placed it in front of -him and started back again. But he stopped -her. "I said I wanted it rare an' it's well done. -An' also that I wanted fried potatoes. Take -it back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl's eyes blazed: "You gave no -instructions," she retorted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't tell me that! I know what I said!" -snapped the drummer. "I won't eat it an' I -won't pay for it. If you was n't so </span><em class="italics">busy</em><span> you 'd -heard what I said."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy was arising before he saw the tears of -vexation in her eyes, but they settled it for him. -He placed his hand lightly on her shoulder. -"You get me some pie an' take a li'l walk. Me -an' this here gent is goin' to hold a palaver. -Ain't we, stranger?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The drummer glared at him. "We ain't!" he retorted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy grinned ingratiatingly. "Oh, my; -but we are." He slung a leg over a chair back -and leaned forward, resting his elbow on his -knee. "Yes, indeed we are—least-a-wise, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> am." His -tones became very soft and confiding. "An' -I 'm shore goin' to watch you eat that steak."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that you 're going to do?" the drummer -demanded, half rising.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down," begged Sammy, his gun swinging -at his knee. He picked up a toothpick with his -left hand and chewed it reflectively. "These -here Colts make a' awful muss, sometimes," he -remarked. "'Specially at close range. Why," -he confided, "I once knowed a man what was shot -'most in two. He was a moss-head an' would n't -do what he was told. Better sorta lead off at -that steak, </span><em class="italics">hombre</em><span>," he suggested, chewing -evenly on the toothpick. Noticing that the girl -still lingered, hypnotized by fear and curiosity, -he spoke to her over his shoulder. "Won't you -please get me that pie, or somethin'? Run out -an' borrow a pan, or somethin'," he pleaded. "I -don't like to be handicapped when I 'm feedin' -cattle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The drummer's red face paled a little and one -hand stole cautiously under his coat—and froze -there. Sammy hardly had moved, but the Colt -was now horizontal and glowered at the gaudy -waistcoat. He was between it and the girl and -she did not see the movement. His smile was -placid and fixed and he spoke so that she should -get no inkling of what was going on. "Never -drink on an empty stomach," he advised. "After -you eat that meal, then you can fuss with yore -flask all you wants." He glanced out of the -corner of his eye at the girl and nodded. "Still -there! Oh, I most forgot, stranger. You take -off yore hat an' 'pologize, so she can go. Jus' -say yo 're a dawg an never did have no manners. -</span><em class="italics">Say</em><span> it!" he ordered, softly. The drummer -gulped and muttered something, but the Colt, -still hidden from the girl by its owner's body, -moved forward a little and Sammy's throaty -growl put an end to the muttering. "Say it -plain," he ordered, the color fading from his face -and leaving pink spots against the white. -"That's better—now, Li'l Miss, you get me that -pie—please!" he begged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they were alone Sammy let the gun -swing at his knee again. "I don't know how -they treats wimmin where you came from, -stranger; but out here we 're plumb polite. -'Course you did n't know that, an' that's why -you did n't get all mussed up. Yo 're jus' plain -ignorant an' can't help yore bringin' up. Now, -you eat that steak, </span><em class="italics">pronto</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's too cold, now," grumbled the drummer, -fidgeting in the chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The puncher's left hand moved to the table -again and when it returned to his side there was -a generous layer of red pepper on the meat. -"Easy to fix things when you know how," he -grinned. "If it gets any colder I 'll fix it some -more." His tones became sharper and the words -lost their drawled softness. "You goin' to start -ag'in that by yoreself, or am I goin' to help -you?" he demanded, lifting his leg off the chair -and standing erect. All the humor had left his -face and there was a grimness about the tight lips -and a menace in the squinting eyes that sent a -chill rippling down the drummer's spine. He -tasted a forkful of the meat and gulped hastily, -tears welling into his eyes. The puncher moved -a little nearer and watched the frantic gulps -with critical attention. "'Course, you can eat -any way you wants—yo're payin' for it; but -boltin' like a coyote ain't good for th' stummick. -Howsomever, it's yore grub," he admitted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A cup of cold coffee and a pitcher of water -followed the meat in the same gulping haste. -Tears streamed down the drummer's red face as -he arose and turned toward the door. "Hol' on, -stranger!" snapped Sammy. "That costs six -bits," he prompted. The coins rang out on the -nearest table, the door slammed and the -agonized stranger ran madly down the street, -cursing at every jump. Sammy sauntered to the -door and craned his neck. "Somebody 's jus' -naturally goin' to bust him wide open one of -these days. He ain't got no sense," he muttered, -turning back to get his pie.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A cloud of dust rolled up from the south, -causing Briggs a little uneasiness, and he scowled -through the door at the long empty siding and -the pens sprawled along it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Steps clacked across the platform and a -grinning cowpuncher stopped at the open window. -"They're here," he announced. "How 'bout -th' cars?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Briggs looked around wearily. For three days -his life had been made miserable by this pest, -who carried a laugh in his eyes, a sting on his -tongue and a chip on his shoulder. "They 'll be -here soon," he replied, with little interest. "But -there 's th' pens."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, there's th' pens," smiled Sammy. -"They'll hold 'bout one-tenth of that herd. -Ain't I been pesterin' you to get them cars?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The agent sighed expressively and listened to -the instrument on his table. When it ceased he -grabbed the key and asked a question. Then he -smiled for the first time that day. "They 're -passing Franklin. Be here in two hours. Now -get out of here or I 'll lick you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There 's a nice place in one of them pens," -smiled Sammy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see you 're eating at Olmstead's," parried -the agent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nice girl. Come up last summer when Mrs. Olmstead -petered out. I ate there last winter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy grinned at him. "Why 'd you stop?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Briggs grew red and glanced at the nearing -cloud of dust. "Better help your outfit, had n't -you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy was thoughtful. "Say, that's a -plumb favorite eatin' place, ain't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Briggs laughed. "Wait till Saturday when -th' boys come in. There 's a dozen shinin' up to -that girl. Tom Clarke is real persistent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy forsook the building as a prop. -"Who 's he? Puncher?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; an' bad," replied the agent. "But I -reckon she don't know it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy looked at the dust cloud and turned to -ask one more question. "What does this persistent -gent look like, an' where's he hang out?" He -nodded at the verbose reply and strode to his -horse to ride toward the approaching herd. He -espied Red first, and hailed. "Cars here in two -hours. Where 's Hoppy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back in th' dust. But what happened to -</span><em class="italics">you</em><span>?" demanded Red, with virile interest. -Sammy ignored the challenge and loped along -the edge of the cloud until he found the trail boss. -"Them cars 'll be here in two hours," he reported.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take you three days to find it out?" snapped Hopalong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Took me three days to get 'em. I just about -unraveled that agent. He swears every time he -hears a noise, thinkin' it's me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Broke?" demanded Hopalong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy flushed. "I ain't gambled a cent -since I hit town. An' say, them pens won't hold -a tenth of 'em," he replied, looking over the dark -blur that heaved under the dust cloud like a -fog-covered, choppy sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm goin' to hold 'em on grass," replied the -trail boss. "They ain't got enough cars on this -toy road to move all them cows in less 'n a week. -I ain't goin' to let 'em lose no weight in pens. -Wait a minute! You 're on night herd for stayin' away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Sammy rode into camp the following -morning he scorned Blinky's food, much to the -open-mouthed amazement of that worthy and -Johnny Nelson. Blinky thought of doctors and -death; but Johnny, noticing his bunkmate's -restlessness and the careful grooming of his -person, had grave suspicions. "Good grub in this -town?" he asked, saddling to go on his shift.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sammy wiped a fleck of dust off his boot and -looked up casually. "Shore. Best is at the -Dutchman's at th' far end of th' street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny mounted, nodded and departed for the -herd, where Red was pleasantly cursing his -tardiness. Red would eat Blinky's grub and gladly. -Johnny was cogitating. "There 's a girl in this -town, an' he 's got three days' head start. No -wonder them cars just got here!" Red's sarcastic -voice intruded. "Think I eat grass, or my -stummick 's made of rubber?" he snapped. -"Think I feed onct a month like a snake?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Reddie," smiled Johnny, watching the -eyebrows lift at the name. "More like a hawg."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Friday morning, a day ahead of the agent's -promise, the cars backed onto the siding and by -noon the last cow of the herd was taking its -first—and last—ride. Sammy slipped away from -the outfit at the pens and approached the -restaurant from the rear. He would sit behind the -partition this time and escape his friends.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The soft sand deadened his steps and when he -looked in at the door, a cheery greeting on the -tip of his tongue, he stopped and stared -unnoticed by the sobbing girl bent over the table. -One hand, outflung in dejected abandon, hung -over the side and Sammy's eyes, glancing at -it, narrowed as he looked. His involuntary, -throaty exclamation sent the bowed head up with -a jerk, but the look of hate and fear quickly died -out of her eyes as she recognized him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' all th' world tumbled down in a heap," -he smiled. "But it 'll be all right again, same as -it allus was," he assured her. "Will Li'l Miss -tell Sammy all about it so he can put it together -again?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him through tear-dimmed eyes, -the sobs slowly drying to a spasmodic catching -in the rounded throat. She shook her head and -the tears welled up again in answer to his -sympathy. He walked softly to the table and placed -a hand on her bowed head. "Li'l Miss will tell -Sammy all about it when she dries her eyes an' -gets comfy. Sammy will make things all right -again an' laugh with her. Don't you mind him -a mite—jus' cry hard, an' when all th' tears are -used up, then you tell Sammy what it's all -about." She shook her head and would not look -up. He bent down carefully and examined the -bruised wrist—and his eyes glinted with rage; but -he did not speak. The minutes passed in silence, -the girl ashamed to show her reddened and -tear-stained face; the boy stubbornly determined to -stay and learn the facts. He heard his friends -tramp past, wondering where he was, but he did -not move.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Finally she brushed back her hair and looked -up at him and the misery in her eyes made him -catch his breath. "Won't you go?" she pleaded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not till I finds out whose fingers made them -marks," he replied. The look of fear flashed up -again, but he checked it with a smile he far from -felt. "Nobody 's goin' to make you cry, an' get -away with it," he told her. "Who was it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't tell you. I can't tell you! I don't know!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Li'l Miss, look me in th' eyes an' say it again. -I thought so. You mustn't say things that -ain't true. Who did that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you want to know for?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, jus' because."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What will you do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I 'll sorta talk to him. All I want to -know is his name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't tell you; you 'll fight with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned his sombrero over and looked -gravely into its crown. "Well," he admitted, -"he </span><em class="italics">might</em><span> not like me talkin' 'bout it. Of course, -you can't never tell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he did n't mean to hurt me. He 's only -rough and boisterous; and he wasn't himself," -she pleaded, looking down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Uh-huh," grunted Sammy, cogitating. -"So 'm I. </span><em class="italics">I 'm</em><span> awful rough an' boisterous, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> -am; only I don't hurt wimmin. What's his name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll not tell you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, all right; but if he ever comes in here -again an' gets rough an' boisterous he 'll lose a -hull lot of future. I 'll naturally blow most of his -head off, which is frequent fatal. What's that? -Oh, he's a bad man, is he? Uh-huh; so 'm I. -Well, I 'm goin' to run along now an' see th' boss. -If you won't tell, you won't. I 'll be back soon," -and he sauntered to the street and headed for -Pete's saloon, where the agent had said -Mr. Clarke was wont to pass his fretful hours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he turned the corner he bumped into -Hopalong and Johnny, who grabbed at him, and -missed. He backed off and rested on his toes, -gingery and alert. "Keep yore dusty han's off'n -me," he said, quietly. "I 'm goin' down to -palaver with a gent what I don't like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hopalong's shrewd glance looked him over. -"What did this gent do?" he asked, and he would -not be evaded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he insulted a nice li'l girl, an' I 'm in a -hurry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"G'way!" exclaimed Johnny. "That straight?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Too d—n straight," snapped Sammy. "He -went an' bruised her wrists an' made her cry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lead th' way, Kid," rejoined Johnny, -readjusting his belt. "Mebby he 's got some friends," -he suggested, hopefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," smiled Hopalong, "mebby he has. -An' anyhow, Sammy; you </span><em class="italics">know</em><span> yo're plumb -careless with that gun. You might miss him. -Lead th' way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they started toward Pete's Johnny nudged -his bunkmate in the ribs: "Say; she ain't got no -sisters, has she?" he whispered.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>One hour later Sammy, his face slightly -scratched, lounged into the kitchen and tossed his -sombrero on a chair, grinning cheerfully at the -flushed, saucy face that looked out from under a -mass of rebellious, brown hair. "Well, I saw th' -boss, an' I come back to make everythin' well -again," he asserted, laughing softly. "That -rough an' boisterous Mr. Clarke has sloped. He -won't come back no more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, </span><em class="italics">Sammy</em><span>!" she cried, aghast. "What -</span><em class="italics">have</em><span> you done?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, for one thing, I 've got you callin' me -Sammy," he chuckled, trying to sneak a hand -over hers. "I told th' boss I 'm goin' to get a -job up here, so I 'll know Mr. Clarke won't come -back. But you know, he only thought he was -bad. I shore had to take his ol' gun away from -him so he would n't go an' shoot hisself, an' when -las' seen he was feelin' for his cayuse, intendin' to -leave these parts. That's what I </span><em class="italics">done</em><span>," he -nodded, brightly. "Now comes what I 'm goin' -to do. Oh, Li'l Miss," he whispered, eagerly. -"I 'm jus' all mixed up an' millin'. My own -feet plumb get in my way. So I jus' gotta stick -aroun' an' change yore name, what you don't like. -Uh-huh; that's jus' what I gotta do," he smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She tossed her head and the tip-tilt nose went -up indignantly. "Indeed you 'll do nothing of -the kind, Sammy Porter!" she retorted. "I'll -choose my own name when the time comes, and it -will not be Porter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He arose slowly and looked around. Picking -up the pencil that lay on the shelf he lounged -over to the partition and printed his name three -times in large letters. "All right, Li'l Miss," -he agreed. "I 'll jus' leave a list where you can -see it while you 're selectin'. I 'm now goin' out -to get that job we spoke about. You have th' -name all picked out when I get back," he -suggested, waving his hand at the wall. "An' did -anybody ever tell you it was plumb risky to stick -yore li'l nose up thataway?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sammy Porter!" she stormed, stamping in -vexation near the crying point. "You get right -out of here! I 'll </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> speak to you again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You won't get a chance to talk much if you -don't sorta bring that snubby nose down a li'l -lower. I 'm plumb weak at times." He laughed -joyously and edged to the door. "Don't forget -that list. I 'm goin' after that job. So-long, -Li'l Miss."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sammy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, all right; I'll go after it later on," he -laughed, returning.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="when-johnny-sloped"><span class="large">XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">WHEN JOHNNY SLOPED</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Johnny Nelson hastened to the corner -of the bunkhouse and then changed his -pace until he seemed to ooze from there to the -cook shack door, where he lazily leaned against -the door jamb and ostentatiously picked his teeth -with the negative end of a match. The cook -looked up calmly, and calmly went on with his -work; but if there was anything rasping enough -to cause his calloused soul to quiver it was the -aforesaid calisthenics executed by Johnny and the -match; for Cookie's blunt nature hated hints. If -Johnny had demanded, even profanely and with -large personal animus, why meals were not ahead -of time, it would be a simple matter to heave -something and enlarge upon his short cut speech. -But the subtleties left the cook floundering in a -mire of rage—which he was very careful to -conceal from Johnny. The youthful nuisance had -been evincing undue interest in early suppers for -nearly a month; and judging from the lightness -of his repasts he was entirely unjustified in -showing any interest at all in the evening meal. So -Cookie strangled the biscuit in his hand, but -smiled blandly at his tormentor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, all through?" he pleasantly inquired, -glancing carelessly at Johnny's clothes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm hopin' to begin," retorted Johnny, and -the toothpick moved rapidly up and down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cookie condensed another biscuit and gulped. -"That's shore some stone," he said, enviously, -eying the two-caret diamond in Johnny's new, -blue tie. Johnny never had worn a tie before he -became owner of the diamond, but with the stone -came the keen realization of how lost it was in a -neck-kerchief, how often covered by the wind-blown -folds; so he had hastened to Buckskin and -spent a dollar that belonged to Red for the tie, -thus exhausting both the supply of ties and Red's -dollars. The honor of wearing the only tie and -diamond in that section of the cow-country -brought responsibilities, for he had spoken hastily -to several humorous friends and stood a good -chance of being soundly thrashed therefor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He threw away the match and scratched his -back ecstatically on the door jamb while he -strained his eyes trying to look under his chin. -Fixed chins and short ties are trials one must -learn to accept philosophically—and Johnny -might have been spared the effort were it not for -the fact that the tie had been made for a boy, -and was awesomely shortened by encircling a -sixteen-inch neck. Evidently it had been made -for a boy violently inclined toward a sea-faring -life, as suggested by the anchors embroidered in -white down its middle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lemme see it," urged Cookie, sighing because -its owner had resolutely refused to play -poker when he had no cash. This had become a -blighting sorrow in the life of a naturally -exuberant and very fair cook.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' for how long?" demanded Johnny, a cold -and calculating light glinting in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, till supper 's ready," replied Cookie with -great carelessness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nix; but you can wear it twenty minutes if -you 'll get my grub quick," he replied. "Got to -meet Lucas at half-past five." He cautiously -dropped the match he had thoughtlessly produced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cook tried to look his belief and accepted -the offer. Johnny's remarkably clean face, -plastered hair and general gala attire suggested -that Lucas was a woman—which Lucas -profanely would have denied. Also, Johnny had -been seen washing Ginger, and when a puncher -washes a cayuse it's a sign of insanity. Besides, -Ginger belonged to Red, who also had owned -that lone dollar. Red's clothes did not fit -Johnny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goin' to surprise Lucas?" inquired the cook.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cookie glanced meaningly at the attire: -"Er—you ain't in th' habit of puttin' on war -paint for to see Lucas, are you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny's mental faculties produced: "Oh, -we 're goin' to a dance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where 'bouts?" exploded the cook.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Way</em><span> up north!" One's mind needs to be -active as a flea to lie properly to a man like the -cook. He had made a ghastly mistake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By golly! I 'll give th' boys cold grub an' -go with you," and the cook began to save time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny gulped and shook his head: "Got a invite?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cookie caught the pan on his foot before it -struck the floor and gasped: "Invite? Ain't -it free-fer-all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; this is a high-toned thing-a-bob. Costs -a dollar a head, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"High-toned?" snorted the cook, derisively. -"Don't they know you? An' I thought Red was -broke. Show me that permit!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucas 's got it—that's why I 've got to catch him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! An' is </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> goin' all feathered up, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shore, he 's got to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh! He wouldn't dress like that to see a -</span><em class="italics">fight</em><span>. Has she got any sisters?" Cookie finished, -hopefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now what you talkin' about?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Lucas," answered the cook, placidly. -"Lemme tell you something. When you want to -lose me have a invite to a water-drinkin' contest. -An' before you go, be shore to rub Hoppy's boots -some more; that's such a pasty shine it 'll look -like sand-paper before you get to th'—dance. -You want to make it hard an' slippery. An' I 've -read som'ers that only wimmin ought to smell -like a drug-store. You better let her do th' -fumigatin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny surrendered and dolefully whiffed the -crushed violets he had paid two bits a pint for at -El Paso—it was not necessary to whiff them, but -he did so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You ought to hone yore razor, too," continued -the cook, critically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I told Buck it was dull, I ain't goin' to -sharpen it for him. But, say, are you shore -about th' perfumery?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, of course."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how 'll I git it off?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bury th' clothes," suggested Cookie, grinning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like yore gall! Which clothes are best, -Pete's or Billy's?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pete's would fit you like th' wide, wide world. -You don't want blankets on when you go -courtin'. Try Billy's. An' I got a pair of -socks, though one 's green—but th' boots 'll hide it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did n't put none on my socks, you chump!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How'd </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> know? But, say! Has she got any sisters?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" yelled Johnny, halfway through the -gallery in search of Billy's clothes. When he -emerged Cookie looked him over. "Ain't it -funny, Kid, how a pipe 'll stink up clothes?" he -smiled. Johnny's retort was made over several -yards of ground and when he had mounted -Cookie yelled and waved him to return. When -Johnny had obeyed and impatiently demanded -the reason, Cookie pleasantly remarked: "Now, -be shore an' give her my love, Kid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny's reply covered half a mile of trail.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny rode alertly through Perry's Bend, -for Sheriff Nolan was no friend of his; and Nolan -was not only a discarded suitor of Miss Joyce, -but a warm personal friend of George Greener, -the one rival Johnny feared. Greener was a -widower as wealthy as he was unscrupulous, and -a power on that range: when he said "jump," -Nolan soared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff was standing before the Palace -saloon when Johnny rode past, and he could -not keep quiet. His comment was so judiciously -chosen as to bring white spots on Johnny's flushed -cheeks. The Bar-20 puncher was not famed -for his self-control, and, wheeling in the saddle, -he pointed a quivering forefinger at Mr. Nolan's -badge of office, so conspicuously displayed: -"Better men than you have hid behind a badge -and banked on a man's regard for th' law savin' -'em from their just deserts. Politics is a h—l -of a thing when it opens th' door to anything -that might roll in on th' wind. You come down -across th' line tomorrow an' see me, without th' -nickel-plated ornament you disgraces," he -invited. "Any dog can tell a lie in his kennel, but -it takes guts to bark outside th' yard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Nolan flushed, went white, hesitated, and -walked away. To fight in defense of the law was -his duty; but no sane man warred on the Bar-20 -unless he must. Mr. Nolan was a man whose -ideas of necessity followed strange curves, and -not to his credit. One might censure Mr. Cassidy -or Mr. Connors, or pick a fight with some of the -others of that outfit and not get killed; but he -must not harm their protégé. Mr. Nolan not -only walked away but he sought the darkest -shadows and held conversation with himself. If -it were only possible to get the pugnacious and -very much spoiled Mr. Nelson to fracture, smash, -pulverize some law! This, indeed, would be sweet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Johnny, having watched the sheriff -slip away, loosed a few more words into the air -and went on his way, whistling cheerfully. -Reaching the Joyce cottage he was admitted by -Miss Joyce herself and at sight of her blushing -face his exuberant confidence melted and left him -timid. This he was wont to rout by big words -and a dashing air he did not feel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Come right in," she invited. "But you -are late," she laughed, chidingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He critically regarded the dimples, while he -replied that he had drawn rein to slay the sheriff -but, knowing that it would cost him more -valuable time, he had consented with himself to -postpone the event.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you must not do that!" she cried. -"Why, that's terrible! You shouldn't even -think of such things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, of course—if yo 're agin' it I wont."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what did he do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't reckon I can tell that. But do -you really want him to live?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, certainly! What a foolish question."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why do you? Do you—</span><em class="italics">like</em><span> him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like everybody."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; an' everybody likes you, too," he -growled, the smile fading. "That's th' trouble. -Do you like him very much?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish you wouldn't ask such foolish questions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I know. But do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I prefer not to answer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh! That's an answer in itself. You do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think you 're very nice tonight," she -retorted, a little pout spoiling the bow in her -lips. "You 're awfully jealous, and I don't like it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gee! Don't like it! I should think you 'd -want me to be jealous. I only wish you was -jealous of </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>. Norah, I 've just got to say it -now, an' find out—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; tell me," she interrupted eagerly. -"What </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> he do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Nolan, of course."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nolan?" he demanded in surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes; tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I ain't talkin' about him. I was goin' to -tell you something that I 've—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That you 've done and now regret? Have -you ever—ever killed a man?" she breathed. -"Have you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; </span><em class="italics">yes</em><span>! Lots of 'em," he confessed, -remembering that once she had expressed admiration -for brave and daring men. "Most half as many -as Hopalong; an' I ain't near as old as him, -neither."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean Mr. Cassidy? Why don't you -bring him with you some evening? I 'd like to -meet him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>. I went an' brought a friend along -once, an' had to lick him th' next day to keep -him away from here. He 'd 'a' camped right -out there in front if I had n't. No, ma'am; not any."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, the idea! But Mr. Greener's very -much like your friend, Mr. Cassidy. He 's very -brave, and a wonderful shot. He told me so -himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What! He told you so hisself! Well, well. -Beggin' yore pardon, he ain't nowise like Hoppy, -not even in th' topics of his conversation. Why, -he 's a child; an' blinks when he shoots off a gun. -Here—can he show a gun like mine?" and -forthwith he held out his Colt, butt foremost, and -indicated the notches he had cut that afternoon. A -fleeting doubt went through his mind at what his -outfit would say when it saw those notches. -The Bar-20 cut no notches. It wanted to forget.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at them curiously and suddenly -drew back. "Oh! Are they—</span><em class="italics">are</em><span> they?" she -whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded: "They are. There is plenty of -room for Nolan's, an' mebby his owner, too," he -suggested. "Can't you see, Norah?" he asked -in a swift change of tone. "Can't you see? -Don't you know how much I—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. It must be terrible to have such -remorse," she quickly interposed. "And I -sympathize with you deeply, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remorse nothin'! Them fellers was lookin' -for it, an' they got just what they deserved. If -I had n't 'a' done it somebody else would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> a murderer! I never thought that -of </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>. I can hardly believe it of you. And -you calmly confess it to me as though it were -nothing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I—I—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't talk to me! To think you have human -blood on your hands. To think—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Norah! Norah, listen; won't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"—that you are that sort of a man! How dare -you call here as you have? How dare you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I tell you they were tryin' to get </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>! I -just </span><em class="italics">had</em><span> to. Why, I didn't do it for nothin'. -I 've got a right to defend myself, ain't I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You </span><em class="italics">had</em><span> to? Is that true?" she demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, shore! Think I go 'round killin' men, -like Greener does, just for th' fun of it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He doesn't do anything of the kind," she -retorted. "You know he does n't! Did n't you -just say he blinks when he shoots off a gun?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I did. But I didn't want you to -think he was a murderer like Nolan," he -explained. Even Cookie, he thought, would find -it hard to get around that neat little effort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'm so relieved," she laughed, delighted at -her success in twisting him. "I am so glad he -does n't blink when he shoots. I 'd hate a man -who was afraid to shoot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny's chest arose a little. "Well, how -'bout me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you've killed men; you've shot down -your fellow men; and have ghastly marks on -your revolver to brag about."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well—say—but how can I shoot without -shootin' or kill without killin'?" he demanded. -"An' I don't brag about 'em, neither; it makes -me feel too sad to do any braggin'. An' -Greener's killed 'em, too; an' he brags about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; but he doesn't blink!" she exclaimed -triumphantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neither do </span><em class="italics">I</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; but you shoot to kill."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord pity us—don't </span><em class="italics">he</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Y-e-s, but that's different," she replied, -smiling brightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny looked around the room, his eyes -finally resting on his hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I see it's different. Greener can kill, -an' blink! I can't. If he kills a man he's a -hero; I 'm a murderer. I kinda reckon he 's got -th' trail. But I love you, an' you 've got to pick -my trail—does it lead up or down?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Johnny Nelson! What are you saying?" she -demanded, arising.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something turrible, mebby. I don't know; -an' I don't care. It's true—so there you are. -Norah, can't you see I do?" he pleaded, holding -out his hands. "Won't you marry me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked down, her cheeks the color of fire, -and Johnny continued hurriedly: "I 've loved -you a whole month! When I 'm ridin' around I -sorta' see you, an' hear you. Why, I talk to -you lots when I 'm alone. I 've saved up some -money, an' I had to work hard to save it, too. -I 've got some cows runnin' with our'n—in a little -while I 'll have a ranch of my own. Buck 'll let -me use th' east part of th' ranch, an' there 's a -hill over there that 'd look fine with a house on -it. I can't wait no longer, Norah, I 've got to -know. Will you let me put this on yore finger?" He -swiftly bent the pin into a ring and held it -out eagerly: "Can I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pushed him away and yielded to a sudden -pricking of her conscience, speaking swiftly, as -if forcing herself to do a disagreeable duty, and -hating herself at the moment. "Johnny, I 've -been a—a flirt! When I saw you were -beginning to care too much for me I should have -stopped it; but I did n't. I amused myself—but -I want you to believe one thing, to give me a -little credit for just one thing; I never thought -what it might mean to you. It was carelessness -with me. But I was flirting, just the same—and -it hurts to admit it. I 'm not good enough for -you, Johnny Nelson; it's hard to say, but it's -true. Can you, </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> you forgive me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He choked and stepped forward holding out -his hands imploringly, but she eluded him. -When he saw the shame in her face, the tears in -her eyes, he stopped and laughed gently: "But -we can begin right, now, can't we? I don't care, -not if you 'll let me see you same as ever. You -might get to care for me. And, anyhow, it ain't -yore fault. I reckon it's me that's to blame."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment he was nearer to victory than -he had ever been; but he did not realize it and -opportunity died when he failed to press his advantage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I </span><em class="italics">am</em><span> to blame," she said, so low he could -hardly catch the words. When she continued it -was with a rush: "I am not free—I haven't -been for a week. I 'm not free any more—and -I 've been leading you on!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His face hardened, for now the meaning of -Greener's sneering laugh came to him, and a -seething rage swept over him against the man -who had won. He knew Greener, knew him -well—the meanness of the man's nature, his cold -cruelty; the many things to the man's discredit -loomed up large against the frailty of the woman -before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Norah stepped forward and laid a pleading -hand on his arm, for she knew the mettle of the -men who worked under Buck Peters: "What -are you thinking? Tell me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I 'm thinking what Nolan said. An', -Norah, listen. You say you want me to forgive -you? Well, I do, if there's anything to forgive. -But I want you to primise me that if Greener -don't treat you right you 'll tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only what I said. Do you promise?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps you would better speak to him about -it!" she retorted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will—an' plain. But don't worry 'bout me. -It was my fault for bein' a tenderfoot. I never -played this game before, an' don't know th' cards. -Good-by."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rode away slowly, and made the rounds, -and by the time he reached Lacey's he was so -unsteady that he was refused a drink and told to go -home. But he headed for the Palace instead, -and when he stepped high over the doorsill -Nolan was seated in a chair tipped back against -one of the side walls, and behind the bar on the -other side of the room Jed Terry drummed on the -counter and expressed his views on local matters. -The sheriff was listening in a bored way until -he saw Johnny enter and head his way, feet high -and chest out; and at that moment Nolan's -interest in local affairs flashed up brightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny lost no time: "Nolan," he said, rocking -on his heels, "tell Greener I 'll kill him if he -marries that girl. He killed his first wife by -abuse an' he don't kill no more. Savvy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff warily arose, for here was the -opportunity he had sought. The threat to kill had -a witness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' if you opens yore toad's mouth about her -like you did tonight, I 'll kill you, too." The -tones were dispassionate, the words deliberate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hear that, Jed?" cried the sheriff, excitedly. -"Nelson, yo 're under ar—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shut up!" snapped Johnny loudly, this time -with feeling. "When yo 're betters are talkin' -you keep yore face closed. Now, it ain't hardly -healthy to slander wimmin in this country, -'specially </span><em class="italics">good</em><span> wimmin. You lied like a dog to -me tonight, an' I let you off; don't try it again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I told th' truth!" snapped Nolan, heatedly. -"I said she was a flirt, an' by th' great horned -spoon she is a flirt, an' you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sheriff prided himself upon his quickness, -but the leaping gun was kicked out of his hand -before he knew what was coming; a chair glanced -off Jed's face and wrapped the front window -about itself in its passing, leaving the bar-tender -in the throbbing darkness of inter-planetary -space; and as the sheriff opened his eyes and -recovered from the hard swings his face had -stopped, a galloping horse drummed southward -toward the Bar-20; and the silence of the night -was shattered by lusty war-whoops and a spurting .45.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When the sheriff and his posse called at the -Bar-20 before breakfast the following morning -they found a grouchy outfit and learned some facts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where 's Johnny?" repeated Hopalong, with -a rising inflection. "Only wish I knowed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A murmur of wistful desire arose and Lanky -Smith restlessly explained it: "He rampages in -'bout midnight an' wakes us up with his racket. -When we asks what he 's doin' with </span><em class="italics">our</em><span> -possessions he suggests we go to h—l. He takes </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> -rifle, Pete's rifle, Buck's brand new canteen, -'bout eighty pounds of catridges an' other useful -duffle, </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> th' tobacco, an' blows away quick."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On my cayuse," murmured Red.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wearin' my </span><em class="italics">good</em><span> clothes," added Billy, sorrowfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> boots," sighed Hopalong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I ain't got no field glasses no more," grumbled -Lanky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he only got one laig of my new pants," -chuckled Skinny. "I was too strong for him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He yanked my blanket off'n me, which makes -me steal Red's," grinned Pete.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which you didn't keep very long!" retorted -Red, with derision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which makes us all peevish," plaintively muttered Buck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now ain't it a h—l of a note?" laughed -Cookie, loudly, forthwith getting scarce. He -had nothing good enough to be taken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' whichever was it run ag'in' yore face, -Sheriff?" sympathetically inquired Hopalong. -"Mighty good thing it stopped," he added -thoughtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind my face!" snorted the peace -officer hotly as his deputies smoothed out their -grins. "I want to know where Nelson is, an' -d—d quick! We 'll search the house first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold on," responded Buck. "North of Salt -Spring Creek yo 're a sheriff; down here yo 're -nothin'. Don't search no house. He ain't here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do I know he ain't?" snapped Nolan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My word 's good; or there 'll be another -election stolen up in yore county," rejoined Buck -ominously. "An' I would n't hunt him too hard, -neither. We 'll punish him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nolan wheeled and rode toward the hills without -another word, his posse pressing close behind. -When they entered Apache Pass one of them -accidentally exploded his rifle, calling forth an -angry tirade from the sheriff. Johnny heard it, and -cared little for the warning from his friend -Lucas; he waited and then rode down the rocky slope -of the pass on the trail of the posse, squinting -wickedly at the distant group as he caught -glimpses of them now and again, and with no -anxiety regarding backward glances. "Lot's -wife 'll have nothing on them if they look back," -he muttered, fingering his rifle lovingly. At -nightfall he watched them depart and grinned at -the chase he would lead them when they returned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he did not see them again, although his -friends reported that they were turning the range -upside down to find him. One of his outfit rode -out to him with supplies and information every -few days and it was Pete who told him that six -posses were in the hills. "An' you can't leave, -'cause one of th' cordon would get you shore. I -had a h—l of a time getting in today." Red -reported that the sheriff had sworn to take him -dead or alive. Then came the blow. The -sheriff was at the point of death from lockjaw -caused by complete paralysis of the curea-frend -nerve just above the phlagmatic diaphragm, -which Johnny had fractured. It was Hopalong -who imparted this sad news, and withered -Johnny's hope of returning to a comfortable -bunkhouse and square meals. So the fugitive -clung to the hills, shunned sky-lines and -wondered if the sheriff would recover before snow -flew. He was hungry most of the time now -because the outfit was getting stingy with the food -supplies—and he dared not shoot any game.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Four weeks passed, weeks of hunger and -nervous strain, and he was getting desperate. He -had learned that Greener and his fiancée were -going down to Linnville soon, since Perry's Bend -had no parson; and his cup of bitterness, -overflowing, drove him to risk an attempt to leave -that part of the country. He had seen none of -Pete's "cordon" although he had looked for them, -and he believed he could get away. So he rode -cautiously down Apache Pass one noon, thoughtfully -planning his flight. The sand, washed -down the rock walls by the last rain, deadened all -sounds of his progress, and as he turned a sharp -bend in the cut he almost bumped into Greener -and Norah Joyce. They were laughing at how -they had eluded the crowd of friends who were -eager to accompany them—but the laughter froze -when Johnny's gun swung up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Nds up, Greener!" he snapped, viciously, -remembering his promise to Sheriff Nolan. -"Miss Joyce, if you make any trouble it 'll cost -him his life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Turned highwayman, eh?" sneered Greener, -keenly alert for the necessary fraction of a -second's carelessness on the part of the other. He -was gunman enough to need no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Joyce, will you please ride along? I -want to talk to him alone," said Johnny, his eyes -fastened intently on those of his enemy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Norah; that's best. I 'll join you in a -few minutes," urged Greener, smiling at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny had a sudden thought and his warning -was grave and cold. "Don't get very far away -an' don't make no sounds, or signals; if you do -it 'll be th' quickest way to </span><em class="italics">need</em><span> 'em. He 'll pay -for any mistakes like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You coward!" she cried, angrily, and then -delivered an impromptu lecture that sent the blood -surging into the fugitive's wan cheeks. But she -obeyed, slowly, at Greener's signal, and when she -was out of sight Johnny spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Greener, yo 're not going to marry her. You -know what you are, you know how yore first wife -died—an' I don't intend that Norah shall be -abused as the other was. I 'm a fugitive, hard -pressed; I 'm weak from want of food, and from -hardships; all I have left is a slim chance of -gettin' away. I 've reached the point where I -can't harm myself by shooting you, an' I 'm goin' -to do it rather than let any trouble come to her. -But you'll get an even break, because I ain't -never going to shoot a man when he 's helpless. -Got anything to say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; yo 're th' biggest fool I ever saw," -replied Greener. "Yo're locoed through an' -through; an' I 'm goin' to take great pleasure in -putting you away. But I want to thank you for -one thing you did. You were drunk at the time -an' may not remember it. When you hit Nolan -for talking like he did I liked you for it, an' I 'm -goin' to tell you so. Now we 'll get at th' matter -before us so I can move along."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither had paid any attention to Norah in -the earnestness and keen-eyed scrutiny of each -other and the first sign they had of her actions -was when she threw her arms around Greener's -neck and shielded him. He was too much of a -man to fire from cover and Johnny realized it -while the other tried to get her to leave the scene.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't leave you to be murdered—I </span><em class="italics">know</em><span> -what it means, I </span><em class="italics">know</em><span> it," she cried. "My place -is here, and you can't deny your wife's first -request! What will I do without you! Oh, dear, -let me stay! I </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> stay! What woman ever -had such a wedding day before! Dear, dear, -what can I do? Tell me what to do!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny sniffled and wished the posse had taken -him. This was a side he had never thought of. -His wife! Greener's wife! Then he was too -late, and to go on would be a greater evil than -the one he wished to eliminate. When she -turned on him like a tigress and tore him to pieces -word by word, tears rolling down her pallid -cheeks and untold misery in her eyes, he shook -his head and held up his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Greener, you win; I can't stop what's happened," -he said, slowly. "But I 'll tell you this, -an' I mean every word: If you don't treat her -like she deserves, I 'll come back some of these -days and kill you </span><em class="italics">shore</em><span>. Nolan got his because -he talked ill of her; an' you 'll get yours if I die -the next minute, if you ain't square with her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't need no instructions on how to treat -my wife," retorted the other. "An' I 'm -beginnin' to see th' cause of yore insanity, and it -pardons you as nothing else will. Put up yore -gun an' get back to th' ranch, where you -belong—an' </span><em class="italics">keep away from me</em><span>. Savvy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not much danger of me gettin' in yore way," -growled Johnny, "when I 'm hunted like a dog -for doing what any man would 'a' done. When -th' sheriff gets well, if he ever does, mebby I 'll -come back an' take my medicine. How was he, -anyhow, when you left?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dead tired, an' some under th' influence of -liquor," replied Greener, a smile breaking over -his frown. He knew the whole story well, as -did the whole range, and he had laughed over it -with the Bar-20 outfit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that? Ain't he near dead?" cried -Johnny, amazed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, purty nigh dead of fatigue dancin' at -our weddin' last night; but I reckon he 'll be -driftin' home purty soon, an' all recovered." Greener -suddenly gave way and roared with -laughter. There was a large amount of humor -in his make-up and it took possession of him, -shaking him from head to foot. He had always -liked Johnny, not because he ever wanted to but -because no one could know the Bar-20 protégé -and keep from it. This climax was too much for -him, and his wife, gradually recovering herself, -caught the infection and joined in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny's eyes were staring and his mouth wide -open, but Greener's next words closed the eyes -to a squint and snapped shut the open mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That there paralysis of th' cure-a-friend nerve -did n't last; an' when I heard why you licked him -I said a few words that made him a wiser man. -He didn't hunt you after th' first day. -Now you go up an' shake han's with him. He -knows he got what was coming to him and so -does everybody else know it. Go home an' quit -playin' th' fool for th' whole blamed range to -laugh at."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny stirred and came back to the scene -before him. His face was livid with rage and he -could not speak at first. Finally, however, he -mastered himself and looked up: "I 'm cured, -all right, but </span><em class="italics">they</em><span> ain't! Wait till my turn -comes! What a fool I was to believe 'em; but -they usually tell th' truth. 'Cura-a-friend nerve'! -They 'll pay me dollar for cent before I 'm -finished!" He caught the sparkle of his diamond -pin, the pin he had won, when drunk, at El Paso, -and a sickly grin flickered over the black frown. -"I 'm a little late, I reckon; but I 'd like to give -th' bride a present to show there ain't no hard -feelin's on my part, an' to bring her luck. This -here pin ain't no fit ornament for a fool like me, -so if it's all right, I 'll be plumb tickled to see -her have it. How 'bout it, Greener?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The happy pair exchanged glances and Mrs. Greener, -hesitating and blushing, accepted the -gift: "You can bend it into a ring easy," Johnny -hastily remarked, to cut off her thanks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Greener extended his hand: "I reckon we -can be friends, at that, Nelson. You squared up -with me when you licked Nolan. Come up an' -see us when you can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Johnny thanked him and shook hands and then -watched them ride slowly down the canyon, hand -in hand, happy as little children. He sat -silently, lost in thought, his anger rising by leaps -and bounds against the men who had kept him on -the anxious seat for a month. Straightening up -suddenly, he tore off the navy blue necktie and, -hurling it from him, fell into another reverie, -staring at the canyon wall, but seeing in his mind's eye -the outfit planning his punishment; and his eyes -grew redder and redder with fury. But it was -a long way home and his temper cooled as he -rode; that is why no one knew of his return until -they saw him asleep in his bunk when they -awakened at daylight the following morning. And -no one ever asked about the diamond, or made -any explanations—for some things are better -unmentioned. But they paid for it all before -Johnny considered the matter closed.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">THE END</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE COMING OF CASSIDY—AND THE OTHERS</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42441"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42441</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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