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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78402 ***
+
+
+
+                      RUSTLERS’ ROOST
+
+                      By W. C. Tuttle
+
+                 Author of “The Medicine Man,”
+             “Hashknife and the Fantom Riders,” etc.
+
+
+Like a brown leaf fluttering in the wind it came through the bars of
+the cell door. It floated in past a corner of the cot and came to rest
+on the concrete floor. A heavy brogan slid over it, and “Tex” Rowland,
+otherwise Number 1733, owner of the brogan, squinted speculatively at
+the bars.
+
+A trusty had just passed; a wizened-faced, hump-shouldered little old
+trusty, who had been “Hump” Sherrill before other people’s horses had
+somehow come into his possession, and through said possession had been
+given a number in a place where there is little use for the Eighth
+Commandment.
+
+Hump Sherrill had known Tex Rowland in the cattle country. In fact, he
+and Tex had worked for the same outfit, although there was a vast
+difference in their ages. Hump had spent a long time in the Elk Lodge
+penitentiary; a model old prisoner, who had become a trusty around the
+warden’s office.
+
+There was little chance that Hump would ever see the wide ranges again.
+The law had given him twenty-five years. He had sent two perfectly good
+officers to the hospital at the time of his arrest, and his combined
+crimes had caused the judge to give him the limit. And Hump was past
+middle-age at the time of his arrest.
+
+Tex Rowland sat perfectly still for several minutes. He was in no hurry.
+Time was something he had more of than anything else. Finally he leaned
+over, lifted his foot a trifle, and secured the brown cigarette paper
+which he held concealed in his hand. Slowly he went to the bars and
+peered out before opening his hand enough to see what was on the paper.
+
+The writing had been done with a lead-pencil and was almost illegible.
+It read--
+
+_Tex look out their framin’ yu._
+
+He shut up his hand and squinted wonderingly. He was not at all
+handsome. His nose was crooked, which gave him sort of an evil look; but
+there was no evil in his soul. His face was thin, with high cheek-bones,
+a generous mouth and a strong chin. His upper front teeth were decidedly
+of the “buck-tooth” variety, which did not add to his facial beauty. But
+his eyes were level and gray, set in a net-work of grin-wrinkles.
+
+Tex was above medium height, with sloping shoulders and long, muscular
+arms. He looked as lean as a greyhound and tipped the scales at about a
+hundred and sixty pounds. Tex had also been a model prisoner since his
+arrival, about two months previous; but the guards did not put their
+stamp of approval upon a prisoner until said prisoner had been there
+long enough to realize what it all meant.
+
+Just now Tex was trying to puzzle out the meaning of Hump Sherrill’s
+message, as he masticated the bit of paper and swallowed it. The prison
+was still a trifle upset over an attempted “break,” in which a prisoner
+had been shot and killed by a guard.
+
+Tex had taken no part in the affair. In fact, he did not know anything
+about it until it was all over. The authorities had made an attempt to
+find out who was the instigator of the thing, but, from what the
+prisoners had been able to find out, they were unable to fix the blame.
+
+“What are they tryin’ to frame me for?” wondered Tex. “I ain’t done
+nothin’. They framed me into this place, and that ought to be enough
+to do to one ordinary cow-puncher.”
+
+He leaned back on his stool and tried to figure out what he had done.
+He did not like Jim McHague, the head warden. It was not a dislike born
+from anything that McHague had done, but an instinctive dislike. He did
+not like the perpetual sneer on McHague’s hard features; the aggressive
+swing of his beefy body. It had seemed to Tex that McHague’s every
+action spoke plainer than words--
+
+“I am your master.”
+
+And Tex Rowland’s gorge arose at this. He had been railroaded into
+prison; sent up for five years for stealing horses, which he had not
+stolen. Perhaps that was why Hump Sherrill took the chance of warning
+him. It rather made them brothers-in-crime.
+
+But Tex had little time to puzzle out why he was to be framed. A guard
+came down the hall, unlocked his door and informed him that he was
+wanted at the warden’s office.
+
+“What for?” asked Tex.
+
+“You don’t ask questions here,” reminded the guard coldly.
+
+“Uh-huh,” grinned Tex. “Oh, all right, pardner.”
+
+The guard growled and herded Tex down the narrow corridor. The
+warden’s office was on the ground floor at the front of the main
+building, connected to the prison proper by a sort of anteroom, with
+heavily barred windows. Tex was conducted through this room and into
+the office, where he came face to face with McHague.
+
+The guard, at a nod from the warden, backed out of the room, leaving
+Tex apparently alone with the head warden. McHague was busy at his
+desk and paid no attention to Tex, who stood waiting for him to make
+known his wants.
+
+At the right, another door opened into a room. Tex could see a high
+desk and stool and some books. It was evidently part of the office.
+And as Tex flashed a glance in that direction, he saw the muzzle of a
+shotgun slip past the edge of the partly-open door. It was only there
+for a fraction of a second; but that was long enough for Tex to know
+that Hump’s warning was not a joke.
+
+He studied McHague closely, and the warden looked up. For several
+moments they looked at each other, like two fighters measuring each
+other’s defense. Then McHague got to his feet. On the flat-top desk
+was a heavy revolver. Tex had seen it when he first came in. It was
+a mighty good-looking gun, thought Tex.
+
+“You are 1733, eh?” said McHague throatily.
+
+“My name’s Tex Rowland,” said Tex evenly.
+
+“Not here, it ain’t!” snapped McHague. “You’re just a number here, young
+feller.”
+
+Tex shut his lips tightly and looked past the warden. He knew that there
+was no use quarreling. McHague grinned. His eyes flashed toward the gun
+on his desk, as if wondering if Tex would be fool enough to try and grab
+it.
+
+“What did you want me for?” asked Tex softly.
+
+“That’s a ---- of a question for you to ask,” grunted McHague. “Just
+take my advice, and don’t try to hedge. We’ve got the goods on you,
+1733.”
+
+“Thasso? What for?” Tex was thinking fast. He knew that there was a
+double-barreled shotgun in that room behind him; and a shotgun, at
+close range, is a mighty wicked weapon. He wanted to turn his head,
+but did not want McHague to know that he had seen the muzzle of that
+gun.
+
+“What for?”
+
+McHague laughed hoarsely and lighted a cigar. Tex could see that his
+hands trembled. He also noticed that McHague was keeping out of a
+direct line with the door. It was growing dark outside, and McHague
+snapped on a light.
+
+“I’ll tell you what for, 1733; for instigating that attempted jail-break
+a few days ago. We’ve got the goods on you; so come clean, you dirty
+horse-thief!”
+
+Tex jerked forward at the epithet; but did not move out of his tracks.
+He knew that McHague was trying to provoke an attack, but just why, he
+did not know. He shot a glance at the gun on McHague’s desk. He was
+nearer to it now than McHague was.
+
+“Unloaded,” he decided. “He’s tryin’ to get me to make a break for it
+and give an excuse for that jigger behind the door to blow me into jerky
+with that shotgun.”
+
+McHague was paying little attention to Tex, although waiting for Tex to
+answer the accusation.
+
+“You know that’s a ---- lie,” said Tex evenly.
+
+McHague whirled angrily, gripping the cigar tightly between his big
+teeth.
+
+“Don’t tell me that I lie!” he snorted. “You know who I am?”
+
+“I know what I’d call yuh,” said Tex slowly. “I know who yuh are and
+what yuh are, accordin’ to my own views, McHague.”
+
+McHague laughed shortly and threw away his cigar.
+
+“You’re in a place where you’ll be ---- glad to change your views,
+1733. I’m running this place, and, by a crook of my finger, I can
+hand you more unadulterated ---- than you ever dreamed about. And if
+you don’t come across and tell all you know about the plans for that
+break, I’ll show you what I mean by unadulterated ----. Now, start
+talking.”
+
+Tex shook his head slowly.
+
+“Hop to it, McHague. You know I didn’t have any hand in that job.”
+
+“Won’t talk, eh?” McHague moved aside, completely masking himself from
+those inside the other office. “We’ll make you talk. They tell me that
+you were quite a fighter in your own home; but you won’t have any chance
+to fight here. We don’t fight men in here--we break ’em.”
+
+“I s’pose that’s right,” said Tex softly. “But when yuh say ‘we,’ yuh
+mean ‘I,’ don’tcha, McHague? The state don’t stand for none of that
+stuff. Yo’re put here to take care of men--not to torture ’em.”
+
+McHague laughed and shook his head.
+
+“The state put me in charge here, 1733.” He came nearer and shoved out
+his square jaw belligerently. “And I’ll do as I ---- please, as long as
+I have charge. You’re here for five years, and I’ll make it seem fifty.
+
+“You left a girl, didn’t you, 1733? I think they told me that you were
+about to get married. Was that right?”
+
+Tex had turned pale and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Just now he had
+forgotten the man with the shotgun.
+
+“Well?” he said huskily, his hands clenched tightly, as he swayed
+forward a trifle. “Go ahead, McHague.”
+
+“She hasn’t written to you, has she?”
+
+“You ought to know,” said Tex. “The letter would have to come through
+your office.”
+
+McHague laughed grimly, meaningly.
+
+“You’d steal my letters?” asked Tex hoarsely. “You----”
+
+“I told you I could make it seem like fifty years, 1733. Now, you tell
+me who planned that break. Talk fast. I’ve wasted enough time with you.”
+
+“You’d steal my letters?” queried Tex. “You’d stop me from hearin’
+from anybody? Why, McHague? What have I ever done to you? You know I
+never planned that break. You’ve got a shotgun man in that next
+room, and he’s ready to fill me with buckshot; but you never stopped
+to think that a riot-gun scatters kinda bad--and I’m goin’ to take a
+chance with you.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Tex had spoken softly; so softly that his voice would hardly carry to
+the next room, and before he finished he was in action. Even McHague,
+who had taunted him into a killing mood, was hardly prepared for the
+assault, and Tex’s first blow loosened his front teeth and split his
+upper-lip badly.
+
+And as Tex smashed him with a left hook, which staggered the big man,
+he ducked past, leaving McHague between him and the door. McHague was
+swinging wildly with both hands, forcing Tex to back toward the wall;
+but Tex shifted his eyes enough to see that the man with the shotgun
+was already inside the room, but unable to use his weapon.
+
+Tex realized that, in the eyes of the law, this guard would be justified
+in killing him. It would be recorded as a case where a convict attempted
+to kill the warden during an investigation.
+
+McHague was forcing him toward a corner, and Tex had his choice of being
+pinned to the wall by a giant of a man, or to duck aside and allow the
+shotgun man to get in his deadly work. They had fought silently; only
+the soft shuffle of their feet and their quick breathing to show that
+they were in combat.
+
+Now McHague was reaching for Tex with his two big hands, thinking that
+Tex was quitting; but a fraction of a second later Tex’s right hand shot
+from his hip in a sweeping uppercut, and caught McHague squarely on the
+point of his chin. It was sent in with every ounce of Tex’s strength and
+weight behind it--timed perfectly.
+
+McHague’s hands dropped to his sides, his head jerked back and he
+dropped in a loose-jointed heap on the floor. He was completely knocked
+out. Tex leaned back against the wall, staring at the shotgun man, who
+was flat on the floor, doubled across his gun, while behind him stood
+the stooped figure of Old Hump Sherrill, a heavy stool in his hands.
+
+He straightened up, a half-grin on his seamed face, as he glanced
+quickly toward the other door. Swiftly he came across the room and
+looked at McHague. The big warden was groaning softly. Swiftly the
+old man took a big handkerchief from McHague’s pocket and proceeded
+to gag him securely. Then he crossed the room, picked up the shotgun
+and examined it.
+
+“This one is plumb cooled off,” he whispered across to Tex, indicating
+the man he had hit with the stool. “Nobody knows what has gone on in
+here, Tex. Shuck off your clothes and help yo’reself to what McHague’s
+wearin’. It’s too big for yuh, but we can’t wait for a fittin’. Hop to
+it, kid.”
+
+“You mean--we’ll make a break, Hump?” whispered Tex.
+
+“---- right. It’s a chance, Tex. If anybody comes in--well, I’ve got two
+loads of buck-shot. Hurry up.”
+
+As swiftly as possible Tex removed McHague’s clothes. McHague was
+recovering dully now, muttering softly, trying to prevent Tex from
+removing his clothes. Then he sat up and goggled around. Old Hump
+Sherrill shoved the muzzle of the shotgun close to his face and said
+softly:
+
+“Don’t talk, McHague. That gag ain’t none too good, but it’s a good
+alibi. Now, you set still, or I’ll shoot yore ---- head off.”
+
+McHague knew what Hump was saying. His eyes shifted to the figure of
+his guard and back at Old Hump. He knew that the old trusty had hit
+the guard from behind.
+
+But just now his jaw was aching and the gag was uncomfortable.
+
+Old Hump squinted at Tex, who was draped in McHague’s clothes, and a
+grin wreathed his face.
+
+“Danged good thing it’s dark, Tex. Take this gun a minute.”
+
+He went softly into the next room and appeared in a moment with a
+collection of handcuffs, which he proceeded to put on McHague. Then he
+added a dirty rag to McHague’s gag, took another look at the unconscious
+guard, picked up the empty revolver and handed it to Tex.
+
+“It ain’t loaded, Tex; but it looks good. C’mon and don’t lose yore
+nerve.”
+
+They went down a long hall, which opened outside. At the door Hump
+cautioned Tex.
+
+“There’s a guard out there, Tex. We’ll start toward McHague’s residence:
+_sabe_? I work over there once in a while. But when we hit the main
+trail we’ll go straight to the big gate. There’s a gateman there and a
+guard on the wall.
+
+“Jam that gun into his ribs and make him open the gate. If he yelps,
+we’re a goner. Now don’t git nervous. It’s our chance, kid. C’m on.”
+
+They walked boldly out of the door and crossed the court. The guard
+merely glanced at them, but in the half-light he only saw the head
+warden and a trusty. McHague’s tan suit and light-colored fedora hat
+were easy to identify, and the guard did not notice the difference
+in size.
+
+“One baby down, one see-gar,” chuckled Old Hump as they turned sharply
+and headed for the big gate.
+
+They were walking slowly as they came up to the gate. The guard squinted
+narrowly at Old Hump, recognizing him as a trusty. He had already
+noticed the light fedora, but on closer inspection he suddenly realized
+that it was not McHague. But before his lips had a chance to frame a
+question, Tex shoved the big six-shooter into his waist-line. The guard
+on the wall had seen them approach the gate, but was not interested in
+seeing McHague leave the prison.
+
+“Open the gate,” demanded Old Hump softly. “We’re goin’ out, if we have
+to take the keys off yore carcass.”
+
+“And one yelp will be yore last,” added Tex. “Move fast.”
+
+And the gateman obeyed. He knew that he was worth a lot more to himself
+than the gateman’s job was; and this crooked-nosed, young convict seemed
+entirely capable of following out his threat.
+
+The big gate swung open without a sound. Tex shoved the gateman out
+ahead of him, just as the guard on the wall looked down toward the
+gate. He was not suspicious--just looking. It was the first time he
+had ever seen the gateman step outside.
+
+Then he observed that it was the trusty who was closing the gate behind
+them. Of course, it was McHague’s business if he wanted to take a trusty
+outside with him; but the guard moved a trifle closer, watching more
+intently. The three men were talking. Then they started away together,
+with the gateman walking slightly in the lead. It was so irregular that
+the guard called McHague’s name. Neither of the three stopped. In fact,
+they began going away faster. Then the guard threw up his rifle and
+began shooting.
+
+The gateman had voiced no objection, when Tex demanded his company. In
+fact, the gateman felt that it was either that or a smash over the head,
+because these men would not leave him there to send the alarm. Perhaps,
+he thought, the guard would notice that it was irregular--which he did.
+
+The first shot whizzed over their heads and tore deeply into the macadam
+road-bed. The light was weak and the guard was shooting high; being
+unable to notch his sights closely.
+
+“Run for it!” grunted Hump. “To ---- with this jasper!”
+
+He shoved the gateman aside, and he and Tex raced down the road.
+Suddenly Old Hump stumbled, recovered and tried to go on, but slumped
+to his hands and knees.
+
+“Don’t stop, Tex,” he croaked hoarsely, as Tex stopped and came back
+to him. “They got me, kid. Through the lungs, I reckon. Go on, Tex.
+For ----’s sake, go on--can’t--talk. Wanted--to--see--old range,
+kid--McHague wanted to kill you--before--pardon--go on--Tex.”
+
+He slid face down in the road and Tex knew that Old Hump Sherrill was
+dead. The guard was shooting again. Somewhere a bell rang loudly and
+the big whistle sent out its siren warning, telling the world that a
+convict had escaped.
+
+Tex whirled and ran swiftly down through some bushes, down the side of
+a hill, where he scrambled through a fence and reached the bank of the
+river. It was dark down there. The whistle seemed almost at his elbow.
+The blood was pounding in his ears, but he thought he could hear the
+shouts of men, as they started on his trail.
+
+Then he plunged over the clay bank of the river, slid into the water and
+headed for the opposite side. The water was cool and sluggish. He had
+only swum a few strokes when he found that his feet would touch bottom;
+so he waded the rest of the distance and plunged into the brush on the
+opposite side.
+
+He found an old trail, which led up the other bank, and he came out
+on to a railroad grade. He stopped and tried to find his bearings.
+Far across the river he could see the lights from the prison. They
+seemed farther away than he would suppose. There was a singing sound
+on the steel rails which told him that a train was approaching.
+
+Swiftly he slunk back against the brushy side of the cut and went
+through the pockets of his clothes. Pocket after pocket he emptied,
+until there was nothing left that could possibly identify him. The
+accumulated mass of water-soaked letters, etc., were quickly buried
+under a rubble of dirt and stones.
+
+Now the headlights of an engine flashed down past him, and the roar of
+the oncoming train drowned out all other sounds. Tex had never beaten a
+railroad out of a ride; did not know how to swing on to a moving car;
+but he was going to take a chance.
+
+It was a passenger train, evidently running the grade on a slow-order.
+The engine clanked past him, running at not over five miles an hour,
+and Tex sprang upright, grasped the handles and drew himself on to the
+blind-baggage, where he crouched down.
+
+He realized that there was no door opening on to that platform, and that
+the tender prevented the engine crew from seeing him. For the time being
+he was perfectly safe; so he stretched out and tried to reason out just
+what he was going to do.
+
+He knew that every train would be searched as soon as the alarm had been
+sent out to a telegraph office. But he also knew that this train stood a
+good chance of being immune. It had left Elk Lodge too soon for him to
+have taken it. Only luck had sent him straight across the river in time
+to board it on the grades.
+
+Station after station they passed. Tex kept a close watch and always
+managed to be on the opposite side from the brightest lights. A little
+past midnight he dropped off at a division point, and hid behind a tool
+box while the engines were changed. Then he climbed on again and they
+roared away into the night, reeling off mile after mile, taking him
+farther and farther away from the men who were beating the Elk Lodge
+country for him.
+
+It was about three o’clock in the morning. Tex was dozing sleepily,
+trying to keep one eye open. They were on a down-grade, high in the
+mountains. The brakes were screeching as they lurched around the
+curves. Tex realized that they were going altogether too fast. It
+woke him up and he started to get to his feet, when the tender
+whirled sideways, a sheet of flame shot up from the rails and Tex’s
+car upended, as if trying to hurdle the twisting mass of steel and
+flying coal ahead of it.
+
+Tex shot into space, struck heavily against something, which caused him
+to spin dizzily; while to his numbed ears came the splintering crash of
+the coaches; twisting, rolling, demolishing themselves in the worst
+passenger wreck of the year. Then he went down, down, down into a black
+void, where he seemed doomed to keep falling forever.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+And while the passenger train carried Tex Rowland out of the Elk
+Lodge country, Jim McHague swore bitterly at every one, as he sat in
+his office and directed the man-hunt. Fifty men were out in the open;
+guards watched every road and trail out of the country, while others
+searched the town, the trains; leaving no loophole for the man who
+had outwitted the State.
+
+The story and a description of Tex Rowland was broadcast to the press;
+but it was not the true story. McHague’s version was somewhat different
+than what had really happened. He told that Hump Sherrill was the one
+who planned the getaway.
+
+He said that he had called Tex into his office for an interview,
+regarding the late attempted prison-break. Hump Sherrill had hinted
+that Tex knew something about it. He explained that Sherrill was an
+old trusty, who had never given any trouble; but, unknown to the
+authorities, was an old friend of Rowland.
+
+During the interview, without any warning, Sherrill had struck the
+guard, who was present, with a heavy stool, almost killing him. It
+was so unlooked for that Sherrill had secured the guard’s gun and
+had covered him--McHague--forcing him to put up his hands. Then Tex
+Rowland had struck the blow that rendered the warden unconscious.
+McHague, according to his version, awoke from the effects of the
+foul blow to find himself bound and gagged. He was unable to sound
+any warning; but found later that the guard at the gate had killed
+Sherrill. He claimed that it was so unlooked for that neither he nor
+the guard had a chance. Sherrill had been a trusty for several
+years, and no one had ever suspected him of a plot to free himself.
+
+McHague did not leave his office that night, but waited patiently for
+them to bring Tex Rowland back to him. Morning came, but the searchers
+reported failure. The wires were kept hot. Every sheriff in the State
+was notified.
+
+In the morning a pair of bloodhounds were put on the trail which led
+to the river. They were taken across in a boat and had little trouble
+in picking up the trail on that side. McHague went with the dogs. He
+felt sure that Tex had headed into the mountains, and that the hounds
+would lead them to him in a short time; but at the railroad they lost
+the scent.
+
+One of them circled several times and stopped at a small pile of dirt
+and stones, pawing at it eagerly, unearthing the soggy contents of
+McHague’s suit. McHague swore witheringly and sent the dogs back to the
+penitentiary, while he went back to the town of Elk Lodge and sent more
+telegrams. It was plainly evident that Tex Rowland had boarded a train.
+But just what train and in what direction, there was no way of knowing.
+
+News of the big passenger train wreck had reached Elk Lodge. McHague
+questioned the operator about the train, thinking that Tex might have
+boarded it; but its leaving time, and the time of Tex’s escape, seemed
+to preclude all chance of him being on that train.
+
+“We’ll get him,” declared McHague. “He may dodge us for a while, but
+we’ll get him. You can’t mistake that face.”
+
+And McHague grinned to himself, as he visualized what he would do to
+Tex Rowland when Tex came back to Elk Lodge. He would surely pay Tex
+for that uppercut to the chin. It still hurt. Still he was glad that
+no one except Tex and Sherrill had seen it. McHague wanted to be
+known as a fighting man. And he had other reasons for wanting Tex
+back behind the bars.
+
+
+
+
+                                   II
+
+
+Tex’s fall through space had not been unpleasant. At times he had heard
+voices, but was unable exactly to locate them. Now he seemed to have
+come out of the darkness. He remembered the wreck. It was like a dream.
+Some one bent over him, and he heard a voice say--
+
+“Yes, I think he is awake, doctor.”
+
+“Doctor, eh?” thought Tex disinterestedly.
+
+Some one else leaned over him, jiggling the cot slightly. He tried to
+speak, but his jaw seemed set. He could only see out of one eye, too.
+The other was bandaged.
+
+“Feeling better?” asked a masculine voice.
+
+Tex tried to turn his head, which felt queer. He could move his feet and
+one hand. His nose hurt and his mouth was as dry as ashes.
+
+“That bandage is rather tight,” observed a feminine voice.
+
+“It must be tight,” laughed the man. “He hasn’t talked for a week; so a
+few days more won’t bother him. Hasn’t any fever now.”
+
+Tex managed to turn his head enough to catch a one-eyed view of the
+room. There was a gray-haired man, with a short beard and kindly blue
+eyes, standing beside a white-clad woman. They were both looking at
+the sheet of paper which the man was holding.
+
+He lifted his eyes and looked at Tex.
+
+“Well, he’s able to twist around for a look,” he laughed as he came in
+closer.
+
+Tex looked the man over with his one eye. There was an odor of ether
+about the place, and Tex knew that he was in a hospital. The doctor
+was looking down at him, smiling in a friendly manner, and Tex tried
+to smile in return, but the bandage prevented.
+
+“You won’t be able to do much talking for a few days,” said the
+doctor. “But you will be as good as new. Perhaps you will be better
+than new--who knows?”
+
+He turned to the nurse, gave her some instructions and went out of the
+room. Tex wanted to ask her some questions; wanted to find out where he
+was and how badly he had been hurt; but his jaw was in a vise.
+
+He remembered it all now, and he wondered how close the law was on
+his trail. Possibly, he thought, they might know where he was at this
+moment. He found that he was pretty well bandaged all over, but there
+was little pain. His face felt stiff and hard, but he attributed it
+to the bandages.
+
+Finally the nurse came over and sat down beside him. She was serious of
+face, as she said to him--
+
+“No doubt you are wondering all about it.”
+
+Tex blinked his one eye encouragingly.
+
+“You remember the wreck?”
+
+Tex moved his head a trifle and winked at her. She laughed softly.
+
+“One doesn’t need more than one eye to talk,” she said, “but it makes a
+one-sided conversation. You have been here over a week.”
+
+Tex blinked several times violently, and decided that he must have been
+pretty badly hurt.
+
+“It was a bad wreck,” continued the nurse. “There were many killed.
+They thought you were dead. Your clothes were torn from your body,
+along with a lot of flesh and skin. It was a close call, I will assure
+you. But Doctor Ames is a wonder. He was here a few minutes ago, and
+is very much interested in your case. No one was able to identify you,
+and your clothes were in such a bad shape that even the maker’s name
+had disappeared.
+
+“But the doctor says that the bandages can be removed in a few days, and
+you will be able to communicate with your friends. Won’t that be fine? I
+can well imagine that they have given you up for lost.”
+
+Tex blinked several times. He wanted to know more. It was a relief to
+him to know that no one had identified him.
+
+“Why we even had a dentist here to assist in the work,” she smiled. “You
+were quite a problem.”
+
+“My gosh!” thought Tex. “I must ’a’ got my teeth knocked out, too.”
+
+“Now,” she said, “I think that is enough information for today. Just be
+patient and everything will be fine.”
+
+Tex winked thankfully and went back to sleep. At least he was safe for
+a while, because even McHague could not identify him inside that mass
+of wrappings which made him look like an Egyptian mummy. And it would
+give him a sanctuary while the interest in his escape dwindled.
+
+The next few days were months to Tex Rowland. The doctor came in twice
+a day to look him over, and the nurse took keen delight in joking Tex
+about his one expressive eye.
+
+Then came the day when the doctor told him that the bandages were coming
+off. Several other doctors came in to see the results of Doctor Ames’s
+handiwork, and assisted him in the unwrapping. It was a tedious job, and
+Tex was hardly aware that the bandages were off.
+
+His face felt stiff and unnatural, but he was able to use his arms and
+legs. They were stiff and sore, but gave good promise of becoming useful
+again with a little exercise. The doctor’s expressions of satisfaction
+reassured Tex somewhat, but it was not until the nurse brought him a
+hand-mirror that he knew what had happened.
+
+He looked closely at himself, squinted quizzically at the doctors and
+back at himself. Then looked at the back of the mirror; like a monkey
+which does not understand its own reflection.
+
+“Well?” said Doctor Ames. “What is the verdict?”
+
+Tex gazed into the mirror, flexing the muscles of his stiff-feeling
+face. Then he looked slowly up at the doctor and said, speaking with
+great difficulty--
+
+“My ----, where did I get that face?”
+
+Doctor Ames patted him on the shoulder.
+
+“My boy, it was the best I could do. It would have been impossible to
+tell just what you did look like before you broke up half the mountain
+side with your face. Still, I do not think it is such a bad face.”
+
+Tex squinted at himself again. It was not a face he had ever seen; it
+was a total stranger who looked him square in the eyes from the little
+mirror. In the place of that crooked, ill-shapen nose, was one of
+classic design. There was no evil expression about the eyes now, with
+their well-arched brows. The upper-lip was straight and his front teeth
+were very pearly and not at all prominent.
+
+There was a considerable growth of beard, in spots, and the scars of
+the patchwork were plainly evident; but it was not the face of Tex
+Rowland. He laid the mirror down on the covers and his new face broke
+into a painful grin.
+
+“I hope you will be able to identify yourself,” said the doctor.
+
+Tex grinned and shook his head.
+
+“Tha’s all right, doc,” he said slowly. “I reckon yuh done the best
+yuh could. Yuh must ’a’ just about made it all over, but I dunno how
+yuh pulled off the job.”
+
+Doctor Ames smiled. He was professionally happy over it, and received
+the congratulations of the other doctors, who were sincere in saying
+that it was even greater than they expected. One of them slapped Doctor
+Ames on the back and said jokingly:
+
+“Ames, it is just too good. You have made him a handsome man; but there
+is little character.”
+
+“That will come,” assured Ames. “In a little while he will get back the
+lines. Perhaps I did try for an ideal face.”
+
+Tex only laughed and looked into the mirror.
+
+“Have you a photo of yourself?” asked the nurse.
+
+Tex shook his head, although he felt sure that his picture had been
+broadcast after his escape. The nurse stepped to the door and held a
+low-toned conversation with some one for several moments before
+coming back and speaking aside to Doctor Ames. The other doctors were
+closely examining Tex’s face, when Doctor Ames’ voice broke into the
+conversation, speaking to Tex--
+
+“Do you feel well enough to talk to a man, who has been waiting
+anxiously to have a few words with you?”
+
+Tex’s heart sank. Was it an officer, he wondered. A dozen wild guesses
+shot through his mind as the well-dressed man came up to the bed and
+looked down at him. But the man was not wearing a badge of authority,
+and there was a smile on his lips.
+
+“I am from the railroad company,” he explained briskly, as he took some
+legal-looking papers from his pocket. “Claim department, you know. The
+company is straightening out the claims as fast as possible. I have been
+here several times, but have been unable to see you.”
+
+Tex squinted thoughtfully. It puzzled him. Doctor Ames moved in closer
+and looked at the papers, which the agent was arranging.
+
+“No,” he said smiling broadly, “I am not encroaching upon your rights,
+Mr. Agent; but I have an interest in this patient, and I do not want him
+to get the worst of this deal.”
+
+“I understand.” The agent nodded quickly. “Contrary to general belief,
+the company is not trying to dodge their responsibilities. We stand
+ready and willing to pay any reasonable claim. I have been empowered to
+close this claim for five thousand dollars. It is quite a sum of money,
+but we realize that this man has suffered greatly, possibly in more ways
+than one. Is that a fair price?”
+
+Doctor Ames looked at Tex for an answer; but Tex was too stunned to
+answer. It was hard to realize that the railroad company was trying
+to pay him five thousand dollars for injuries received in the wreck.
+They did not know that he was stealing a ride.
+
+“What do you think?” asked Doctor Ames.
+
+Tex opened his mouth several times, but seemed unable to speak. The
+agent had unfolded the paper and was handing a fountain-pen to Tex.
+Between his finger and thumb he held a nice, pink check for five
+thousand dollars.
+
+Tex shook his head and looked at Doctor Ames.
+
+“I don’t want the money,” he said softly. “I want you folks to figure
+out yore bill for what you’ve done for me, and ask him to pay yuh. That
+might be real square. I’ll sign my name, but I don’t want any money.”
+
+“My goodness!” exclaimed one of the doctors. “Ames, you have rebuilt the
+face of a millionaire.”
+
+“Do you realize what you are doing?” asked the nurse. “This man wants to
+pay you five thousand dollars.”
+
+“Yeah, and I don’t want it,” smiled Tex. “You have ’em fix it up, so
+you and the doctor gets paid for yore work, and I’ll sign the li’l old
+name.”
+
+The agent turned to Doctor Ames, a grin on his lips.
+
+“What about it, doctor?” he asked. “I can change this to fit an
+emergency. This man seems sincere; but in all my experience I have never
+before met a man who would not accept a five-thousand-dollar check. I am
+willing to fix it up in any way you wish.”
+
+He and the doctor walked over by the door, conversing in low tones,
+while the agent altered the document with his pen. In a few moments
+they came back and one of the doctors held a book under the document,
+while Tex Rowland laboriously scratched on the dotted line--
+
+_William H. Smith._
+
+Doctor Ames squinted at the signature as he handed it back to the agent.
+
+“William H. Smith, millionaire,” he said, laughing. “Not exactly an
+uncommon name. Bill Smith, philanthropist. Is the initial ‘H’ for
+Henry?”
+
+“No,” said Tex slowly. “My middle name is Horse-shoes.”
+
+“What a queer name,” said the nurse. “You ought to be lucky.”
+
+“Mebbe yuh don’t think I am,” grinned Tex, as he sank back on his pillow
+and looked up at the white ceiling. He had a new face and a new name.
+Tex Rowland had died in the wreck.
+
+
+
+
+                                   III
+
+
+Old Rory McPherson, with a cow-puncher riding on each side of him, came
+to Antelope town. It was an event, when Rory came to Antelope. He was
+past middle-age, a tall, thin man, with a thatch of flaming red hair,
+red whiskers and a fighting eye. His face was thin and almost as red as
+his whiskers, while his eyes were of an iceberg blue.
+
+Rory had been a powerful fighting man in his youth, and woe unto him
+who might hint that Rory was not as young as he used to be! He swung
+off his big roan horse, tied it to a hitch-rack, and looked around
+belligerently, as if daring any one to contest his right to be in
+town.
+
+None did. Rory knew that they would not; but he always waited for
+some one to try. With him was Dick Clarey and “Biddy” Toole, two of
+his cowpunchers. They wore their sombreros at an aggressive angle,
+swaggered in their walk and talked boldly.
+
+Antelope was a town of about two hundred inhabitants; but it boasted
+a two-story brick building wherein was housed the bank. Two-story
+brick buildings were not common in that part of the range country,
+and Antelope had a right to be proud.
+
+The rest of the business houses were of the false-front, one-story
+variety, with wind and sand-scoured signs, badly in need of paint. There
+were the inevitable board sidewalks, built well above the ground for no
+apparent reason, except, as one of the old timers said, “It makes ’em
+high enough t’ set on kinda good.”
+
+Old Rory shoved his hands into his overall pockets and threw back his
+head as he stared at the brick building. It was not new. Rory had seen
+it many times; but he always stared at it, muttering a curse into his
+red beard.
+
+He hated “Big Jim” Mott, the man who had built and owned that brick
+building; hated him with every drop of his Scotch blood.
+
+Big Jim had said--
+
+“---- you; I’ll sheep out Rainbow Valley one of these days!”
+
+Old Rory McPherson owned Rainbow Valley and he replied:
+
+“Ye will? Then that will be many a long year after the sheep have made a
+vile-smellin’ dust heap out of Antelope.”
+
+And Big Jim Mott owned Antelope range. The feud between Rory and Big Jim
+had started before the advent of the branch railroad into Antelope. The
+railroad had made old Rory even more bitter.
+
+The logical thing, according to Rory, would have been for the railroad
+to have come in through Rainbow Valley, leaving the main line at a point
+about three miles north of Claymore, the little village at the upper end
+of Rainbow, and following an easy grade down through Rainbow and into
+the Antelope country.
+
+But instead, it came in from the town of Welcome, twisted in and out of
+the hills, barely touching the lower border of Rainbow and running due
+south to Antelope. And old Rory McPherson knew why the railroad did not
+come in through Rainbow. He knew that Big Jim’s political pull kept the
+railroad out of Rainbow Valley.
+
+It had been of no advantage to Big Jim, and had not injured Rory
+McPherson, as far as that was concerned; but a railroad through Rainbow
+Valley would have been of decided advantage to Rory. And Rory knew that
+Big Jim had done all this with malice aforethought.
+
+“You and your dir-r-rty buildin’!” muttered Rory.
+
+“What did yuh say?” asked Dick Clarey.
+
+“Nawthin’.”
+
+Rory squinted across the street, jerking the brim of his sombrero a
+trifle lower, as he spelled out a faded sign--
+
+                      MISS FREELAND, MILLINERY
+
+He nodded slowly and turned to the two cowboys.
+
+“Be cir-r-cumspect, will ye? I’ve an errand just now.”
+
+He turned on his heel and crossed the street toward the little millinery
+store, while the two cowboys looked at each other. They grinned as they
+turned toward a saloon entrance.
+
+“What in the ---- is he goin’ to do there?” wondered Dick.
+
+“He’s not goin’ to buy hats, that’s a cinch,” laughed Biddy.
+
+Old Rory rattled his spurs up to the door and knocked loudly. After a
+moment the door creaked half-way open and a faded-looking little woman
+stared out at him.
+
+“I’m lookin’ for Miss Della Mar-r-rsh,” he told her. “She wor-rks here,
+I’ve been told.”
+
+The little woman shook her head quickly. “She did work here,” she said,
+as if apologizing, “but they gave her a position over in the bank, Mr.
+McPherson. She has been there nearly a week now.”
+
+Old Rory stared at her, turned his head slowly and squinted at the hated
+building.
+
+“Over there?” He jerked his thumb in that direction. “Do ye mean to say
+that she’s wor-r-rkin’ in that building, ma’am?”
+
+“Yes--for the bank.”
+
+“Oh, ho-o-o! For the bank, ye say? Now what the ---- do ye know about
+that?”
+
+The door shut quickly behind him. But he did not mind. In fact he had
+forgotten all about the little milliner lady. He clenched his freckled
+old hands until the knuckles looked like rows of white marbles, and his
+lower jaw jutted angrily. There was no question but what Rory McPherson
+was very angry.
+
+He started across the street toward the bank, but changed his mind and
+went to the saloon, where he found Dick and Biddy at the bar.
+
+“Have a little drink, Rory?” invited Biddy, moving aside to give the old
+man room.
+
+But Rory shook his head angrily.
+
+“I’ve no stomach for-r-r anythin’ in this town!” he snorted. “I’ve been
+insulted by me own flesh and blood. It may not be a Christian thing to
+tak’ the name of the Lord in vain, but right noo I’m gr-r-ropin’ for
+wor-r-rds that will fit the occasion.”
+
+“What’s gone wrong?” queried Dick Clarey.
+
+“Wrong? Did ye say wrong, Dick? Everythin’! Della has gone to wor-r-rk
+for that----”
+
+Old Rory shut his lips tightly, and his beard lifted like the hair on
+the back of an angry dog.
+
+Dick and Biddy understood what he meant. Biddy fingered his glass, his
+head cocked on one side thoughtfully.
+
+“At the ranch, Rory?” he asked.
+
+“In the bank, Biddy.”
+
+“What doin’?” queried Dick.
+
+“No matter what doin’!” snorted Rory. “It’s another of his dir-rty
+deals. I came here to take her awa’ from the makin’ of hats. No job
+is that for a bit o’ a lass; not while her uncle has a cent. And I
+find her wor-rkin’ for--that! Shamin’ me, he is.”
+
+The old man’s voice trembled with anger, but he threw up his head and
+turned to the bar, which he thumbed with his clenched fist.
+
+“Gi’e me whusky,” he ordered hoarsely. “When ye’r hear-rt tells ye to
+kill--drink whusky for ballast. Gi’e me the bottle, will ye? That glass
+is no sup for a sufferin’ mon.”
+
+After a few big drinks Rory was well organized for anything. His Scotch
+brogue grew more broad, but the whisky softened his bitterness. A vacant
+chair at a poker table called to him; so he sat down to play, while Dick
+and Biddy slipped out of the place and went down to the bank. They knew
+that the old man was good for several hours and several more drinks, and
+that he was not liable to get into trouble while under the influence of
+liquor. It seemed that liquor softened his nature, although his
+conversation became so full of burs that no one could understand him.
+
+They found Della Marsh in the bank; a slip of a girl, with an oval face
+framed in a mass of brown hair. There seemed to be a perpetual sadness
+about her wide, blue eyes, and she greeted them with a wistful smile.
+
+“How long have yuh been here, Dell?” asked Dick.
+
+“About a week, Dick. How is Rainbow Valley?”
+
+“Fine. The old man came in with us.”
+
+“Uncle Rory? Where is he?”
+
+“Over in the Eagle saloon. Say, Dell, he’s sore as a boil.”
+
+“Sore? What about, Dick?”
+
+Dick lowered his voice:
+
+“Because you’re workin’ here. You know this bank belongs to Big Jim
+Mott, don’tcha?”
+
+“Why, yes, I know it. But I don’t see--”
+
+“Listen,” interrupted Biddy. “He came in today to get yuh to go back
+to the ranch, Dell. He knowed that yuh was workin’ at that millinery
+store. He wants yuh to come back home. I reckon we all want yuh to
+come back, too, Dell.”
+
+Biddy shuffled his feet nervously. Della looked at him, her eyes
+smiling. But she shook her head slowly:
+
+“No, I don’t want to go back there, Biddy. I don’t want to be dependent
+on any one, don’t you see? I can make my own living.”
+
+“That’s true,” nodded Biddy. “If it was anybody but Mott.”
+
+“You didn’t ask for the job, did yuh, Dell?” asked Dick.
+
+Della colored slightly, but shook her head.
+
+“No, I didn’t, Dick. Mr. Mott asked me if I wanted to work in the bank.
+It is not hard work.”
+
+“It’ll sure be hard for Rory McPherson,” declared Biddy.
+
+“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” said Della wistfully. “I wish that Uncle
+Rory and Mr. Mott would be friends. Mr. Mott seems so big and generous;
+not at all as I had believed him to be.”
+
+“A snake is slick,” muttered Biddy, “and a coyote ain’t no homely
+critter.”
+
+“That is unkind, Biddy,” said Della softly.
+
+“Ex-cuse me,” said Biddy quickly. “I was thinkin’ outloud. And we just
+found out the other day that Jim Mott owns the old XO-Bar-5.”
+
+“The XO-Bar-5?” questioned Della wonderingly. “Why, I thought it
+belonged to Marvin Crane.”
+
+“Well, it don’t,” declared Biddy. “He was just runnin’ it.”
+
+“Then it was Mott who--”
+
+Della stopped and stared out through the open door.
+
+“Yeah,” nodded Dick seriously. “It was Big Jim Mott who sent Tex Rowland
+to the penitentiary, Dell. Of course, yuh can’t hold a thing like that
+ag’in’ Mott; but it was him--not Crane.”
+
+The three were silent for several moments. Then Della looked at both men
+and spoke softly--
+
+“Is there any news of Tex?”
+
+Biddy shook his head:
+
+“Not a word, Dell. Accordin’ to the papers they can’t find a trace of
+him. He made a clean getaway.”
+
+“Will he ever come back here, do you think?”
+
+Biddy shook his head slowly.
+
+“No, I don’t reckon he will, Dell. It’s hard to tell where old Tex
+will hole-up. He’s been out almost a month. Well, I reckon we better
+be goin’, Dell.”
+
+They shook hands with her and went outside, heading back to the saloon.
+
+“She sure thinks a lot of old Tex,” observed Dick.
+
+Biddy nodded:
+
+“The old crooked-nosed son-of-a-gun. By golly, Dick, he was a danged
+good feller. They don’t make ’em better than Tex Rowland. He was homely
+as the ----, wasn’t he? Kinda like findin’ an old bent can, without any
+label; and when yuh open it up yuh find she’s full of peaches. That’s
+old Tex--a peach on the inside.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the doorway of the saloon they met Jack Lohman, the sheriff, whose
+office was at Welcome, the county seat. He was a tall, squint-eyed man,
+and as hard as the job he had been voted into.
+
+“Hyah, Lohman,” greeted Biddy, as they shook hands. “How’s the law and
+order comin’?”
+
+“’Sall right,” grinned Lohman. “How’s crime?”
+
+“Doin’ right well. Whatcha doin’ down in this neck of the woods?”
+
+“Electioneerin’.”
+
+“Thasso?” Biddy grinned widely. “You’re startin’ early, ain’t yuh? You
+was only re-elected last Fall. I’ll bet you’re lookin’ for Tex Rowland.”
+
+Lohman grinned, but grew serious, as he said:
+
+“Kinda funny they never located Tex. Either he’s smarter than the law,
+or he’s lucky as ----. They were on his trail within ten minutes after
+he went out through the gate; but he sure faded complete-like. He don’t
+know nothin’, except punchin’ cows, and some day he’ll be picked up on
+some cow-ranch.”
+
+“It won’t be in this end of the country,” said Dick. “He wouldn’t be
+fool enough to come back here.”
+
+“Suits me,” said Lohman. “I ain’t got nothin’ against Tex. He always
+treated me fine, and as far as I’m concerned he can stay out of jail. I
+got a letter from McHague, the warden at the pen, the other day tellin’
+me to watch out for Tex around here.”
+
+“And you’d pick him up in a minute, too,” grinned Biddy.
+
+“I wonder if I would,” said Lohman seriously.
+
+“That calls for a drink,” said Dick warmly. “You ain’t on the wagon, are
+yuh, Lohman? Or mebbe the law don’t allow yuh to drink.”
+
+“I never swore I wouldn’t,” laughed Lohman, and they went to the bar
+together.
+
+Old Rory McPherson did not seem to be having any great luck at poker.
+He played a hard game, but not a scientific one. He did not bluff; but
+played every hand for what he thought it was worth.
+
+“I’ll not lie,” he told them seriously. “’Tis the Scotch in me, I’m
+thinkin’.”
+
+“It’s the rye in yuh, yuh mean,” grumbled a disgruntled player, who had
+tried to bluff the old man out of a good pot, only to find him holding a
+full-house.
+
+“Rory don’t come down here very often, does he?” asked Lohman.
+
+“Not any oftener than he has to,” assured Biddy. “He ain’t got much use
+for Antelope. Him and Big Jim ain’t friendly, yuh know.”
+
+“Too bad,” said Lohman. “It kinda splits this country. I was over to the
+Lightnin’ ranch yesterday. Pablo acted like I wasn’t a bit welcome.”
+
+“Nobody welcome around there,” grinned Biddy. “As far as I’m concerned,
+they don’t need to welcome me. ‘Paint’ Pablo is loco over pinto horses.
+I hear he sold a car-load to some circus.”
+
+“He’s a breed, ain’t he?” asked Lohman.
+
+“Nez Perce and French,” said Dick, “with the rattle-snake
+predominatin’.”
+
+Lohman laughed and turned back to the bar.
+
+“I’m ridin’ out to the Dice ranch today,” he said. “Big Jim told me
+about a horse he had out there, and it’s about what I want. He’s got
+some good stock out there, I guess.”
+
+“He ought to have,” observed Biddy. “He’s got enough money to just about
+raise the kind he wants.”
+
+“Yeah, I reckon he gets what he wants,” said Lohman.
+
+“He tries, anyway,” said Dick. “It’s gettin’ so a man can’t work around
+here, unless he works for Mott.”
+
+“Or for Rory McPherson,” laughed Lohman.
+
+“Yeah, that’s true,” agreed Biddy. “Rainbow Valley ain’t as big as
+Antelope--but it’s clean, Lohman.”
+
+Some one had come in the saloon as Biddy started to speak, and he turned
+to see Big Jim Mott looking at him. Mott had heard Biddy’s statement,
+and he seemed about to say something, but changed his mind and came up
+to the bar.
+
+Big Jim did not belie his name; he was big. He was well over six-feet
+tall, broad of shoulder and deep of chest, weighing about two hundred
+and forty pounds. But he was not fat. His face was blocky of contour,
+his nose a trifle too small for the rest of his face. He was less than
+forty years of age, but looked to be more, as his close-cropped hair
+was brushed with gray.
+
+Big Jim dressed well. His linen was immaculate, clothes well pressed and
+boots shining. A big diamond glistened on a finger of his left hand,
+while another decorated his necktie. Except for his range clothes, he
+might be mistaken for a heavy-weight politician.
+
+And it would not be a very great mistake, at that. While he did not come
+out openly in the political field, it was well known that Big Jim Mott’s
+hand was one of the few that stirred the political pot of the state.
+
+He had never aspired to office; but was content to sit back and help
+pull the strings.
+
+The bartender handed out a box of expensive cigars and Big Jim scooped
+out a handful. He carelessly tossed a bill on to the bar and turned
+away without asking for his change. Old Rory McPherson had cashed in
+his chips and was leaving the game, when he looked up and saw Big Jim
+looking at him.
+
+Big Jim calmly bit the end off a cigar and lighted a match, ignoring the
+tall Scot who stared at him malevolently. Dick, Biddy and the sheriff
+grinned in anticipation of the coming clash.
+
+“The coyotes ar-re not all holed up yet, I obser-r-rve,” said old Rory
+distinctly.
+
+Big Jim glanced at him indifferently, but the insult was too direct to
+ignore completely.
+
+“Were you speaking to me?” he asked.
+
+“Not to ye,” said old Rory. “If I did, I would expect ye to bark or
+howl.”
+
+Big Jim’s brows drew down over his eyes and the cigar was crushed under
+the pressure of his big fingers. There was a vast difference in their
+ages, and he could hardly expect to fight a man of Rory’s age.
+
+“You appear to be hunting trouble, McPherson,” he said.
+
+“Ye are a man of discernment, Mott.”
+
+“You’re drunk.”
+
+“Am I now? Since when did ye refuse to fight a drunken man?”
+
+Big Jim turned and spoke to the sheriff--
+
+“What would you do in a case of this kind, Lohman?”
+
+Lohman laughed and shook his head.
+
+“My opinion would be worth very little, I reckon.”
+
+“The man must be advised,” said Rory, looking around the room. “Is there
+no one to tell him what to do?”
+
+“You are a drunken old fool,” said Big Jim slowly. “If you were twenty
+years younger I’d twist your neck; but you are an old man, and your age
+saves you.”
+
+“A drunken old fool, am I?”
+
+Old Rory’s jaw shut tightly and he came toward Big Jim.
+
+The old Scot did not move like an old man. He moved lightly on the
+balls of his feet, his shoulders hunched slightly. Big Jim looked at
+him queerly and stepped back, instinctively throwing up his hands in
+self-defense.
+
+“Too old, am I?” queried the old man between his clenched teeth.
+
+“Stop it, Rory!” ordered the sheriff. “You can’t fight here. Have a
+little sense, can’tcha?”
+
+“Let him go,” whispered Biddy. “This is a good chance to show the old
+man that he ain’t what he used to be.”
+
+The sheriff had started to step in between them, but now he stopped.
+The old man was still coming on, his half-shut eyes watching cat-like.
+Big Jim backed almost to the bar, when the old man sprang forward. It
+seemed ridiculous for a man of Rory’s age to pit himself against a man
+of Big Jim’s size, but that was just what he was doing.
+
+And his first blow splatted against Big Jim’s temple, doing little
+harm, but showing that old Rory had not lost all his skill. Twice
+more he lashed at Big Jim’s head, but the blows only struck the big
+man’s forearms. At that, they must have carried a sting because Big
+Jim immediately went on the aggressive.
+
+Twice he struck at old Rory; straight-arm punches that were aimed to
+punish, but the old man snapped aside instead of hurting his arms by
+blocking the blows. It seemed to surprise Big Jim, who rushed at old
+Rory, trying to grasp him. But the grasping was not good, and Big Jim
+suffered a smash on the nose that brought the claret in a stream.
+
+“What did you say about lettin’ the old man find out that he wasn’t much
+good?” grunted the amazed sheriff.
+
+Some one flung the table and chairs aside to give more room, and Big
+Jim proceeded to rush old Rory across the room, trying to pin him
+against the wall; but the old man sent in a flurry of punches and
+managed to sidestep the rush.
+
+No one seemed to want to stop the fight now--except Big Jim. His face
+was gory and his mouth was wide open, as he panted for breath. He was
+not whipped--not by any manner of means; but his wind was not good,
+and this old, red-whiskered ---- was hard to catch.
+
+“Ye ar-r-re doin’ very well consider-r-rin’,” said Rory, “but ye would
+not have it so easy, if ye were not fightin’ a dr-r-runken old fool.”
+
+The old man was breathing heavily, but was yet unmarked and there was a
+grin of joy on his thin lips. Big Jim threw all caution to the wind and
+rushed. He knew that this fight must be finished quickly or he would be
+disgraced forever. His big fists smashed awkwardly at the retreating
+face, and he slipped from the effort, throwing himself off balance.
+
+It was old Rory’s big chance. Whether or not he was ready to strike the
+blow anyway is a question, but his swing had started as Big Jim slipped
+and the clenched fist caught Big Jim flush in the ear, knocking him
+sidewise, where he collided with a chair and went down heavily.
+
+For a moment there was silence. Then the sheriff spoke--
+
+“He’s sure as ---- gettin’ old and decrepit.”
+
+Willing hands were helping Big Jim to his feet, but there was no fight
+left in him. The blow had upset him, and his fall over the chair had
+dazed him badly. Old Rory had stepped back, his mop of red hair hanging
+over his brow like the mane of an old lion.
+
+“Weel,” he said huskily, “that brought a cer-r-rtain amount of
+satisfaction. I may be dr-r-runk and a fool; but I’ll na admeet that
+I’m old. At seexty, a McPherson is in his pr-rime. Biddy if ye please,
+lad; we’ll go home noo.”
+
+And Big Jim Mott leaned dazedly against the bar and watched the three
+men from Rainbow Valley file out of the place. The last to go out was
+old Rory. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at Jim Mott; looked
+at him long and steadily before turning and disappearing through the
+doorway.
+
+“It was an accident, Mr. Mott,” said the bartender sympathetically,
+“that chair----”
+
+“Give me a drink!” snorted Mott, whirling around, still holding to his
+swollen ear where old Rory’s last punch had landed.
+
+“Well, by ----!” snorted one of the men, “I don’t know yet how it was
+done. Why, old Rory is old, I tell yuh.”
+
+“That’s what I thought,” said Big Jim painfully, “I didn’t want to hurt
+him.”
+
+“Sure yuh didn’t,” agreed another. “A feller can’t get a reputation for
+fightin’ old men.”
+
+“Not his kind,” said the sheriff meaningly. “I’ll put my money on the
+old man every time.”
+
+Big Jim shot an angry glance at the sheriff, but turned back to his
+drink. It was a humiliating thing to happen to a man of his standing
+in the community; a man of his physical size--to be whipped by a man
+old enough to be his father. He had always hated old Rory McPherson.
+The old hard-faced Scot and his wild riding crew of punchers had never
+shown any respect for the man who practically owned and controlled the
+Antelope country. They gave no allegiance to any one.
+
+Rainbow Valley was always in the “doubtful” column in the politics of
+the county, where the vote was so small that even one cattle outfit
+might turn defeat into victory.
+
+The valley was about five miles long by three miles wide, surrounded
+on two sides by rolling hills, which swept back to the main divide
+of the Wild Horse mountains. At the northwest end of the valley was
+a low divide, leading into the Frogpond Basin, a big sheep country.
+The lower, or southeast, end of the valley opened out onto the flat
+reaches of the Antelope.
+
+It was about seven miles from the entrance of the valley to the town
+of Antelope, and Jim Mott’s ranch, the Dice brand, was located about
+three miles slightly southwest of the town. The brand consisted of a
+square, inside of which were five dots. The brand was registered as
+the Box-Five-Dot; but it was generally known as the Dice brand.
+
+The XO-Bar-5, which had also been acquired by Big Jim, was located about
+four miles North of Antelope. Marvin Crane had been known as the owner
+of the XO-Bar-5 for several years, and it was not generally known that
+Big Jim was the owner.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Big Jim finished his drink and then attended to his swollen nose,
+with the aid of the bartender. The bleeding had stopped, and in a few
+minutes, barring a slight discoloration, the olfactory organ was as
+good as ever.
+
+He went down the street to the bank and entered. It was not often that
+Big Jim came to the bank, although he had a desk in one of the private
+rooms. He nodded shortly to Frank Eddy, the cashier, who followed him
+into the private room. Big Jim sat down heavily and lighted a cigar,
+while Eddy remained standing, waiting for Big Jim to talk.
+
+“Old Rory McPherson wasn’t here today, was he?” asked Big Jim.
+
+“No, sir. But two of his men, Clarey and Toole, were in here a while
+ago.”
+
+“Did they talk to Miss Marsh?”
+
+“Yes. They were only here a few minutes, but talked to her all the
+time.”
+
+Big Jim smoked thoughtfully for a while.
+
+“You said something a month ago about Jevne, didn’t you?”
+
+Eddy nodded quickly.
+
+“Yes, I did, Mr. Mott. I told you that I did not like Jevne. He is
+capable and all that, but I do not like his personality.”
+
+“How is Miss Marsh?” asked Big Jim. “Is she capable?”
+
+“She is doing well,” admitted Eddy. “The work is new to her, of course,
+but----”
+
+“Give her Jevne’s job.”
+
+“Jevne’s job?” The cashier exploded his astonishment.
+
+“Yes. Fire Jevne. Give him a month’s pay and let him go. Then put Miss
+Marsh in his place.”
+
+“But she is not capable of doing an assistant cashier’s work, Mr. Mott.”
+
+“You are capable of teaching her--or I can find men who will.”
+
+Eddy nodded slowly. He knew there was no use arguing with Big Jim Mott.
+
+“It will be rather new,” said Eddy slowly. “But I suppose she will be
+able to do the work. How soon shall I notify her?”
+
+“Send her in here, Eddy.”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+In a few moments Della Marsh came in, wondering what Big Jim Mott could
+wish of her. He held out his hand and she smiled shyly as their hands
+met.
+
+“Did you see your uncle today?” asked Big Jim.
+
+“No, I did not, Mr. Mott.”
+
+“I see. Do you like your work here, Miss Marsh?”
+
+“Why, yes.”
+
+“Jevne is leaving today,” said Big Jim slowly, looking at her intently.
+
+She looked at him inquiringly and he continued--
+
+“You will take his job, Miss Marsh.”
+
+“I--you mean that I am to take Mr. Jevne’s position?”
+
+“As assistant cashier, Miss Marsh. You are entirely capable, and Mr.
+Eddy will teach you what you don’t already know. No, don’t thank me.”
+
+“Well, I do not know what to say,” said Della a trifle nervously. “It is
+quite a jump from trimming hats to----”
+
+“I believe in wide jumps,” laughed Big Jim. “You will be able to do the
+work, Della. You don’t mind if I call you Della, do you? I’ve known you
+by that name for a long time, and Miss Marsh is too much like talking to
+a stranger. You may call me Jim, if you care to.”
+
+“No, I--I don’t think I would mind,” she stammered. “But I don’t think I
+could ever call you anything except Mr. Mott. You do not seem like a man
+who could be called by his given name.”
+
+Big Jim laughed at her and held out his hand:
+
+“You may change your mind, Della. I congratulate you on your new job.
+That is all for today.”
+
+He followed her out into the bank, where he turned her over to the
+cashier, and went out to his horse. He caressed his sore ear as he
+squinted off across the hills toward Rainbow Valley.
+
+“You dirty old Scotch pup!” he muttered half-aloud. “I’ll break you, if
+it’s the last thing I ever do.”
+
+He yanked his horse around savagely and rode out of town at a gallop.
+
+And while Big Jim rode toward home, with a heart filled with rage
+and bitterness, old Rory and his two cowboys headed back into
+Rainbow Valley, where the lowering sun threw the purple shadows of
+the high hills across their road. Cattle moved lazily along the
+cottonwood-bordered streams, or straggled off the hills, heading
+down into the valley, looking curiously at the three riders as they
+passed.
+
+And most of them wore the brand of Rory McPherson--the RMP--which caused
+many to refer to Rory’s outfit as the Royal Mounted Police. He was not
+as rich in stock as was Big Jim, but the RMP had the better range.
+
+There had been little conversation on the return trip. Old Rory rode
+silently, his eyes half-shut against the glare of the sun. Dick and
+Biddy said nothing, although they exulted inwardly over the outcome
+of the fight. It would be worth the telling.
+
+“Big Jim owns the XO-Bar-5, I hear,” said Biddy, as they passed the road
+leading to that ranch.
+
+Old Rory nodded slowly, his shoulders drooping a trifle more.
+
+“Aye, he does that, Biddy. He owned it at the time they sent poor Tex to
+prison. Did ye hear any more news of Tex in town?”
+
+“Not a word,” said Dick. “If they’d ’a’ caught him, some one would have
+heard it.”
+
+“I’d sure like to hear Tex tell what happened,” said Dick. “The papers
+said that Tex hit the warden when the warden’s hands were up; but that’s
+a ---- lie. Tex wouldn’t do that to save his own life. I dunno why they
+always have to lie about a thing like that.”
+
+“I don’t know,” said old Rory sadly. “There’s always more lies than
+truth in the wor-r-rld. Ye know how I felt toward Tex. He was like me
+own son. They took him away, so they did. I hoped that Tex and Della
+would marry--and they would. They would get Rainbow Valley. Della is
+all I have in the wor-r-rld of me own flesh and blood--and I haven’t
+her now.”
+
+Biddy squinted sidewise at the old man’s face. There was none of the
+“Fighting McPherson” about him now. He was an old, old man, with tired
+eyes; eyes that might have been moist from staring into the sunlight.
+
+“I reckon it’s fate,” said Biddy softly.
+
+The old man with the tired eyes faded, and in their place came the
+tensed expression, the thin line of set lips, the jutting, red-bearded
+jaw. He looked at Biddy thoughtfully for a moment, then turned and
+looked straight ahead as he spurred his horse savagely.
+
+“Fate, ----!” he snorted.
+
+And while both factions were heading home, Della Marsh, the new
+assistant cashier of the Antelope bank, sat down on the porch of the
+little milliner’s home and tried to puzzle it all out. In her hands
+was a belated letter, from the State Pardon Board, which she had just
+finished reading. It said, in part:
+
+Your petition, signed by a sufficient number of names, for the release
+of Tex Rowland from our penal institution, is herewith returned. Owing
+to his escape a short time ago, no official action was taken by us.
+
+The little milliner came down the path and turned in at the gate. Della
+handed her the letter, which she read slowly and gave back.
+
+“And they wouldn’t never pardon him now, if he is caught,” she said
+sadly. “You worked so hard to get all those names, Della. Why, even
+Big Jim Mott signed it, didn’t he?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Well, it’s just like a man to escape when he is almost ready to walk
+out free.”
+
+“But Tex didn’t know it, Miss Freeland.”
+
+“No, I suppose not, Della; but he might have stayed a while longer. I
+never trust a man--not any man. Did you see your uncle?”
+
+“No, he didn’t come over to the bank.”
+
+“He came to see me and I told him where to find you.”
+
+“What did he say, Miss Freeland?”
+
+“I’d not repeat it.”
+
+Della laughed softly, in spite of the fact that laughter was far from
+her at that moment.
+
+“I have been promoted to assistant cashier of the bank,” she stated.
+
+“You have? To assistant cashier? Wasn’t Mr. Jevne the----”
+
+“Yes. Mr. Mott gave me Mr. Jevne’s position. They let him go.”
+
+“Well, that’s nice,” said Miss Freeland, but a trifle dubiously.
+“You--well, I’d hate to have so much responsibility. You’ll have to
+deal with men all the time, and I wouldn’t like that. Let’s get supper,
+Della. I bought some canned fish for supper. I didn’t know whether you
+liked it or not; but I felt just like a fish.”
+
+A smile chased across Della’s lips, but she did not reply, as she got to
+her feet and followed the little milliner into the house.
+
+
+
+
+                                   IV
+
+
+Paint Pablo was not a pleasant sort of a gentleman. In fact, it is
+stretching the imagination considerably even to speak of him as a
+gentleman. It is also doubtful whether Pablo ever laid any claims to
+the appellation.
+
+He was about five feet five inches in height, fairly wide of girth for
+such a short person, and with an evil, pock-marked face. His little
+brown eyes were close together, his nose little more than a blob of
+flesh, his mouth crooked and badly in need of a dentist.
+
+Still, he thought well of Mr. Pablo. He had a passion for pinto horses.
+His four cowboys, “Tucson Charley,” Mose Dickey, “Pokey” Speed--who had
+been christened Polk--and Mike John all rode painted ponies.
+
+Tucson Charley’s mother had been a Piute, his father, a Spaniard. Mose
+Dickey’s paternal ancestors were unknown to him. Pokey boasted Irish
+and Mexican blood, while Mike John’s blood was a mixture of Yaqui and
+Basque.
+
+It was an aggregation to be proud of, and Paint Pablo was proud of
+them. So variegated was everything about the ranch that it was commonly
+known as the “Paint Pot.” It was located across the Antelope range from
+the mouth of Rainbow Valley, and about ten miles in a straight line
+northeast from the town of Antelope.
+
+That Paint Pablo was dishonest, there was no doubt in the minds of
+Antelope and Rainbow Valley folks. But he had never been caught. If
+there was a hold-up within miles of that country, Pablo and his crew
+were under suspicion. But Pablo did not mind. He went along in his
+own dumb way, caring little what any one thought about him.
+
+His ranch house was a huddle of unpainted shacks in a grove of
+cottonwoods, sitting high enough on the hill to overlook much of the
+country. Paint Pablo did not build up there for the view.
+
+And it was at this Paint Pot ranch that Bill Smith, erstwhile Tex
+Rowland, Number 1733, made his first stop on his return to Antelope.
+He rode in on a jaded gray horse, cheap saddle and a bridle that was
+little more than a leather thong.
+
+He had managed to scrape together an outfit of cowboy raiment, belt,
+gun and a small stock of ammunition. Pablo was sitting in the shade of
+a cottonwood, putting a hondo on his rope, when Bill Smith rode in and
+dismounted.
+
+He had known Pablo for years, and felt that Pablo would recognize him,
+if such a thing was possible. But there was no sign of recognition in
+his little eyes; only suspicion of this handsome cowpuncher. Pablo was
+no conversationalist. He grunted softly and continued to work on his
+rope.
+
+Bill Smith grinned and rolled a cigaret.
+
+“What outfit is this?” he asked.
+
+Pablo grunted, spat thoughtfully, and drew the lightning sign in the
+dust with his forefinger.
+
+“Lightnin’, eh?” queried Bill.
+
+“Um-m.”
+
+“You know Rory McPherson?”
+
+“---- right.”
+
+“You know Big Jim Mott?”
+
+Pablo shifted uneasily.
+
+“Um-m.”
+
+“You know Tex Rowland?”
+
+Pablo looked up quickly, a glint of suspicion in his eyes.
+
+“You officer?” he asked.
+
+“Nope. Tex was my friend.”
+
+“Um-m. What you want?”
+
+“Job.”
+
+“You look for Tex?”
+
+“Not so you’d notice it. I need a job, and I was just wonderin’ if
+McPherson could put me to work.”
+
+Pablo squinted closely at him.
+
+“You been sick? You pretty ---- white skin.”
+
+“Yeah, I been sick,” grinned Bill Smith, “Almost died.”
+
+“Too bad. I was sick once. Wood alcohol! ---- near die, too.”
+
+“What about that job?” asked Bill.
+
+Pablo shook his head and went to work on his rope.
+
+“No job here,” he declared, “I got too much help. Mebbe Jim Mott give
+you job; mebbe McPherson give you job--I dunno.”
+
+“Got a horse yuh want to trade?”
+
+Pablo took a quick glance at the skinny gray and shook his head. He was
+not interested in anything but painted horses. Bill Smith threw away his
+cigaret, told Pablo good-by and rode on toward Antelope.
+
+He was satisfied now that no one would recognize him. If he escaped the
+keen eyes of Pablo, there was little chance of any one discovering that
+Tex Rowland was back of that handsome face. It was going to be difficult
+for him to pose as a stranger in a place where he knew every one. He was
+beginning to get used to his new face and name. It would be like coming
+back from the grave to hear himself discussed, and he felt sure that he
+would soon know what folks thought about him.
+
+He rode into Antelope and tied his horse to a hitch-rack. It did not
+seem to him that he had ever been away from the old town. Old Ase
+Bradley, who owned a general store, was sitting on the same old bench
+in front of the store, chewing tobacco and arguing politics with a
+couple of old cronies.
+
+Pete Sutherland, the blacksmith, was swearing audibly at a broncho
+that wouldn’t stand still. Pete always swore at them, whether they
+stood still or not. It was a habit with him. A girl was coming out of
+the bank, and Bill Smith stood silently watching her.
+
+It was Della Marsh, coming straight toward him; Della Marsh, the girl
+he was to have married. He stared at her hungrily. It was the supreme
+test of his disguise. She glanced at him without recognition and passed
+on into a restaurant. Bill Smith sighed deeply and walked slowly on.
+For the first time since his recovery he realized that even Della would
+not know him.
+
+And that moment he realized that he was a stranger to
+everybody--everywhere. He was the only living person who knew who he
+was. The gods of fate had created a full grown human being; created
+a creature which had no past.
+
+“My ----!” exclaimed Bill Smith to himself, “I dunno whether I’m winner
+in this game or not. I can’t claim relationship with anybody on earth. I
+was born in a train wreck, where a lot of folks died--and among them was
+Tex Rowland. I’m just a ghost, tha’sall.”
+
+No one spoke to him in the Fashion Saloon. There were men he had known
+intimately for years; men who were his friends. They looked at him and
+saw only the good-looking puncher, a trifle run down as to raiment, a
+stranger to Antelope.
+
+Big Jim Mott was there, playing poker. He glanced at the stranger and
+went on with his game. Bill Smith bought himself a drink. It was the
+first one he had drunk since his arrest. He questioned the bartender
+about the cattle ranches, intimating that he was looking for a job. The
+bartender advised him to see Big Jim. Bill Smith grinned to himself. It
+seemed ridiculous for the bartender not to know him.
+
+Marvin Crane was also in the poker game. He was a thin-faced,
+swarthy-complectioned, middle-aged man, who was continually blinking
+his eyes. It was Crane who had sworn to the complaint charging Tex
+Rowland with the theft of six XO-Bar-5 horses.
+
+Some one had corralled the horses in an old pole-corral in a coulée,
+several miles from the XO-Bar-5 ranch-house, and with the six XO-Bar-5
+horses was a RMP mare which Tex had been looking for.
+
+Tex had dismounted and was inside the corral, rope in hand, when Crane
+and “Slim” Whelan, his cowpuncher, rode up. Tex had noticed that the
+animals were covered with sweat and were weary from a long run; but
+gave it no thought.
+
+He was also unaware that just outside the little corral were the
+preparations for a branding-fire, which had been recently put together.
+There was also the rod from the end-gate of a wagon, which, in all
+probability, was to be used as a running-iron to change the brands.
+
+In range parlance--Tex was caught with the goods. Crane and Whelan
+covered him with their guns, disarmed Tex and took him to the sheriff.
+There had been too much horse-stealing in the Antelope country for the
+law to deal lightly; so Tex had been convicted.
+
+Bill Smith, erstwhile Tex, loafed around the saloon until the poker game
+broke up, and then approached Big Jim Mott. Luck had smiled upon Big Jim
+and his grin was expansive.
+
+“Want a job, eh?” he asked jovially. “What can you do?”
+
+“Anythin’ from wranglin’ broncs to runnin’ the ranch,” replied Bill
+Smith.
+
+“Well, you’re not a bit modest,” laughed Big Jim. “Where are you from
+and what is your name?”
+
+“Are you hirin’ pedigrees or punchers?” asked Bill.
+
+Big Jim laughed and turned to Crane--
+
+“You can use another man, can’t you, Crane?”
+
+“I might.” Crane was not enthusiastic.
+
+“I’m filled up at my ranch,” explained Big Jim. “Got more punchers than
+I know what to do with; so I’ll let Crane have you. He needs another
+man. Got a horse?”
+
+“I’ve got somethin’ with four legs and a tail,” grinned Bill. “It ain’t
+a bronc.”
+
+They walked outside and he pointed out his gray at the hitch-rack across
+the street. Big Jim laughed and went toward the bank, while Bill Smith
+and Crane crossed to the rack and got their horses.
+
+Crane was not strong on conversation, and Bill wondered why Big Jim had
+hired him to work on the XO-Bar-5. He did not know that Big Jim owned
+that outfit, but he was beginning to think so.
+
+“Does the big feller own your ranch?” he asked.
+
+Crane nodded jerkily.
+
+“Yeah. That’s Big Jim Mott. Didn’t yuh ever hear of him?”
+
+“What did he ever do?”
+
+“Oh, ----! I dunno. He owns most of this country.”
+
+“Got lots of money?”
+
+“Yeah. Owns the bank in Antelope and helps run the State.”
+
+“Looks like a fighter.”
+
+Crane laughed grimly, but did not express any opinion. He had heard of
+Big Jim’s fight with old Rory McPherson.
+
+“I came in from that direction,” said Bill, pointing northeast, “and I
+ran into the Lightnin’-brand ranch. Had a talk with the jeezer that
+owns it. That is, I tried to have a talk with him. He sure is short on
+conversation.”
+
+“That was Paint Pablo,” said Crane. “---- Injun!”
+
+“He ain’t very ornamental, that’s a cinch,” grinned Bill.
+
+“No, and yuh don’t want to trust him too far, either. Say, I don’t even
+know your name.”
+
+“William H. Smith.”
+
+Crane spat dryly and nodded.
+
+“Bill Smith, eh? You don’t look like none of the Smith family I’ve ever
+seen. Where yuh been workin’, Smith?”
+
+“You don’t expect me to answer that, do yuh?”
+
+Crane grinned and bit a corner off his plug of tobacco.
+
+“All right. If anybody asks me, I’ll say yuh hails from Oklahoma, or
+from some other seaport. Yuh look honest.”
+
+“Since when did cow-ranches require a puncher to look honest, Crane?”
+
+“All right, all right, Smith. You ain’t no mail-order puncher, that’s
+a cinch. You’ll bunk with Slim Whelan. He’s a forked gent, with a
+salty disposition, and kinda addicted to solitaire. I hate two-handed
+games; so I don’t play with Slim. Mebbe he’ll take exceptions to your
+looks; but I reckon yuh can take care of William H. Smith.”
+
+“I’ve raised him ever since he was born,” grinned Bill.
+
+“And that wasn’t yesterday,” agreed Crane warmly.
+
+“Nope--it was several weeks ago.”
+
+“I betcha.”
+
+Slim Whelan met them at the gate, which sagged on its hinges so badly
+that Slim fairly had to carry it open. He squinted at the newcomer and
+waited for Crane to introduce him.
+
+“I used t’ know a Smith,” he said innocently, “and I wonder if you’re
+related to him.”
+
+“He was my brother,” said Bill seriously. “Kind of a queer sort of a
+jigger, with two legs, two arms and a head on top of his neck.”
+
+“By ----, that’s him!” exclaimed Slim. “You shore described him in a few
+words. And I’ll bet yo’re jist like the cowboy in the story-book--you
+love your horse.”
+
+Bill looked at the weary-legged gray and nodded slowly--
+
+“Yeah, I think so much of that animal that I wouldn’t even try to sell
+him.”
+
+“And that saddle, too!” said Slim, “Didja win that at a rodeo?”
+
+“That,” said Bill seriously, “that was the saddle that George Washington
+used when he crossed the Delaware. It’s a heirloom.”
+
+Crane laughed loudly and slapped Slim on the back.
+
+“I’ll match him agin’ yuh any old time, Slim. Bill H. Smith ain’t no
+pandowdy puncher. He’s hired to help yuh run the legs off our cows;
+_sabe_? Be good to him--cause I want yuh to keep your health, Slim.”
+
+“My ----, yuh talk like I wasn’t kind to everybody!”
+
+Slim seemed aggrieved to think that Crane would even question his sweet
+disposition.
+
+“I never seen yuh bitin’ the legs off yaller-jackets nor ticklin’ the
+teeth of a rattler--if that’s what yuh mean, Slim. You show Smith where
+to lean his horse, will yuh? I’ll give yuh some blankets for that other
+bunk, and Smith can fill the tick with fresh straw.”
+
+Crane went to the ranch-house, while Slim led Bill down to the stable
+and pointed out an empty stall. As they came outside Slim squinted at
+Bill and said:
+
+“Dog-gone it, yore voice reminds me of somebody I’ve heard talkin’. I
+dunno who it was, but it’s familiar.”
+
+“Prob’ly that other Smith you knowed, Slim.”
+
+Slim looked at him quizzically and laughed shortly--
+
+“Yeah, I reckon that’s who it was. Do they all talk alike?”
+
+“All I ever knowed, except one, Slim.”
+
+“How’d he talk?”
+
+“Through his nose.”
+
+Slim’s face was very serious as he digested this mentally.
+
+“Well, there’s exceptions to all cases, I reckon. I’ll show yuh where
+to fill that straw-tick. I’m glad yuh come to work here, Smith. We sure
+need another man here.”
+
+“Plenty of work, eh?” queried Bill Smith.
+
+“No-o-o, not much work. But we’ve got twenty hens that are layin’ every
+day, and the ---- aigs are spoilin’ on us.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was near closing time at the bank on the following day. Della’s head
+was aching from trying to absorb knowledge of the banking business, and
+she was almost ready to slam down the top of her desk and run away into
+the hills. It was all so complicated, and Eddy had tried to teach her
+the whole system in one day. Consequently her mind was awhirl.
+
+Big Jim came in and leaned on her desk, puffing away at his cigar, a
+grin on his lips.
+
+“Learning the game, Della?” he asked.
+
+“Oh, I don’t know what I’ve learned,” she said nervously. “It is all
+Greek to me yet. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what it is all
+about.”
+
+“I don’t understand it,” he laughed. “Too much for me.”
+
+“Why did you give me this position?” she asked.
+
+Big Jim laughed and squinted at his cigar thoughtfully.
+
+“Well, I thought you needed a good job, and,” he lowered his voice and
+leaned closer, “I wanted to have you around, Della.”
+
+“Wanted to have me around?” Wonderingly.
+
+“Sure. I wanted to have the prettiest girl in the State working for me.
+You are pretty, Della.”
+
+She looked down at her desk and began arranging papers. It was clear to
+her now that Big Jim Mott did not hire her because of her ability. She
+knew that he was looking down at her, but she did not look up.
+
+“I suppose those papers were not sufficiently shuffled,” he laughed
+softly. “You’ve got pretty hair, Della.”
+
+Still she did not look up; so he laughed and went back to his private
+room. Eddy, the cashier, was locking the vault, and now he came up to
+her.
+
+“Closing time, Miss Marsh,” he said pleasantly. “You may go now. I
+suppose it has been a hard day.”
+
+“Rather a confusing day,” she said wearily, as she put on her hat. “I
+shall dream of banking terms, I suppose.”
+
+“I have,” he confessed. “But later on it will be all in a day’s work.”
+
+She went out and he locked the door behind her. A man was coming down
+the sidewalk toward her, and she recognized him as the one they called
+Tucson Charley. She merely gave him a glance as she started across the
+street. He was more Indian than white in looks and garb.
+
+As she reached the sidewalk and started up the street, she happened to
+glance back and saw that Tucson Charley was following her. Perhaps, she
+thought, he was merely coming up to one of the stores. But he turned
+down a side path, following her straight to the home of the little
+milliner.
+
+Della was not afraid of him, but she was curious to know why he was
+following her. On the steps of the little house she stopped and waited
+for him to come up. He glanced around, as if wondering if any one was
+watching him, before coming up to her.
+
+“What do you want?” she asked.
+
+He dug inside his dirty shirt and brought out a begrimed envelope, which
+he passed to her. There was no name on the envelope. She looked at it
+curiously, noting that it was sealed.
+
+“What is it?” she asked.
+
+“You open,” he said shortly.
+
+Wonderingly she tore one end off the envelope and drew out a folded
+piece of paper. The writing on it had been done with a soft lead-pencil
+and was barely legible. Quickly she glanced at the signature on it and
+gave a gasp of surprise. It was signed--
+
+_Tex._
+
+“Where did you get this?” she asked hoarsely.
+
+Tucson Charley shook his head and looked blankly.
+
+She stared at him for several moments then read the note,
+
+    Dell I want to see you but I’m afraid to show myself.
+    I have been hurt but am able to travel again. I need
+    money to get me out of the country and don’t know
+    where I can get it. I need about $500. Don’t tell
+    anybody about this because the officers are close
+    on my trail. You can trust the man who brings this.
+    Just sign your name on this so I will know you got
+    it. You will hear from me again.
+                                                   Tex.
+
+She crushed the letter in her hands. Never for a moment did she question
+the authorship of the note. She had never seen any of Tex Rowland’s
+writing. But she did know that Tex Rowland, the man she loved, was
+hiding away in that country, recovering from injuries, and badly in need
+of money.
+
+“Where is he?” she asked hoarsely.
+
+Tucson Charley shook his head. Either he did not know, or would not say.
+
+She read it through again before taking a pencil from her little bag. He
+had only asked her to write her name, but above the name she wrote:
+
+_Tex, I love you in spite of everything._
+
+Quickly she put the message into the envelope, gave it back to the
+half-breed and watched him walk back toward the main street. She wanted
+to follow him and ask more questions about Tex; but she knew that Tucson
+Charley would not talk. She knew that Tucson Charley worked for Pablo,
+at the Paint Pot ranch, and wondered if Tex were hiding out there.
+
+It was not like Tex to ask her for money. But under the circumstances
+she was about the only one he could ask for help. Her pocket-book
+revealed the fact that she had just twelve dollars. It was out of the
+question for her to get the five hundred dollars for him.
+
+She did not confide in Miss Freeland that night. It would be like
+trusting the news to a reporter. Miss Freeland’s tongue was of the
+hinged variety, and no secret was sacred to her. The next morning
+she went back to the bank, still wondering what she could do to help
+Tex.
+
+It was difficult for her to get interested in the work. The room seemed
+hot and stuffy, and her head ached slightly. Some men were talking to
+the cashier about some accident, and she heard the name of Tucson
+Charley used several times.
+
+As soon as the men went away she asked the cashier about it.
+
+“One of Pablo’s cowboys,” he said. “They call him Tucson Charley, I
+think. Anyway, he got drunk last night and his horse kicked him in the
+head. He likely went out to the hitch-rack and fell into the horse.
+They found him there this morning.”
+
+“Dead?” she asked breathlessly.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+The cashier went back to his work, while Della slumped back in her
+chair, her mind awhirl. They would find that letter on Tucson Charley,
+and it would lead them to Tex Rowland. She knew that Tucson Charley had
+never delivered that letter to Tex.
+
+It was some time before she could control her nerves sufficiently to
+ask the cashier more details. But he knew no more than he had told
+her, except that the body had been turned over to old Paint Pablo for
+burial.
+
+“Didn’t they notify the sheriff,” she asked, “or the coroner?”
+
+“I don’t think so, Miss Marsh. You see, it was an accident; so there
+was nothing to interest the law. Doctor Sibley examined him, and they
+all decided that the horse kicked him.”
+
+“But why don’t they bury him here at the town cemetery?” she asked.
+
+“Nobody wanted to assume the responsibility, I suppose. He has no
+relatives around here. Some of the boys have taken him out to Pablo’s
+ranch in a wagon.”
+
+The cashier went to attend to a customer’s wants, and Della made a
+pretense of working. She felt that there was a bare possibility of
+no one finding that letter on Tucson Charley. As long as the sheriff
+or coroner had not been notified, it was hardly likely that any one
+would search the corpse.
+
+It was nearly noon when Big Jim rode into town and came to the bank.
+Della was suffering from a severe headache and he noticed that she did
+not look well.
+
+“You look awful pale,” he told her. “Don’t you feel well?”
+
+“Just a bad headache,” she told him wearily. “The figures get all
+tangled up in my brain somehow.”
+
+“Say, you sift out of here and go home,” he ordered. “You ain’t in shape
+to work, Della.”
+
+He walked over and explained it to the cashier, who apologized to Della
+for not sending her home earlier in the day. She was more than glad to
+leave the bank. Big Jim went outside with her, offering advice in the
+cure of headaches.
+
+“You ought to take a ride into the hills,” he said. “You’ve been
+working too hard. I tell you what to do: You go to the livery stable
+and tell ’em I said to let you have a good saddle-horse. Pick out the
+best one there for today, and after this I’ll see that there’s a good
+horse kept there for you.”
+
+“But I couldn’t do that,” she protested.
+
+“Yes, you can, too. It’s the least I can do for you, Della. If I wasn’t
+so busy today, I’d ride with you. I’ll try and ride with you once in a
+while, after today. Now you run along and get that horse. Tell Johnny
+Harris to put it on my bill. No, don’t tell him anything, Della. You get
+the horse, and I’ll see Johnny later.”
+
+The temptation was too great for Della. For years she had ridden the
+hills; riding as wild and free as any cowpuncher, and it had been as
+much a part of her life as eating and sleeping. She took the horse
+down to Miss Freeland’s house, where she made a swift change into her
+riding clothes.
+
+But her clothes were hardly conventional according to riding academy
+standards. A pair of overalls, light flannel shirt, boots and a sombrero
+completed the outfit. She owned a .30-30 Winchester carbine, a gift from
+old Rory McPherson, but decided against taking it with her. On account
+of its recoil, she had never quite mastered it although she shot fairly
+well.
+
+At a short distance away she could easily be mistaken for a slim, young
+cowpuncher, as she rode out of Antelope, heading north into the rolling
+hills. She was taking the shortest distance to the Paint Pot ranch, and
+intended to keep away from the road for fear of meeting those who had
+taken the remains of Tucson Charley to Pablo’s place.
+
+
+
+
+                                   V
+
+
+The XO-Bar-5 was sort of a rundown place, and Martin Crane seemed to
+expend little effort in keeping it going. A half-breed woman, Alice
+Spotted Horse, did the cooking--or what passed for cooking. Alice was
+very fat, slow of foot and heavy of hand, and expressed every emotion
+with the same exclamation:
+
+“I be ----!”
+
+“She’s a elocutionist,” declared Slim, after Alice had used up her
+vocabulary on acknowledging her introduction to Bill Smith.
+
+Alice grinned blandly and repeated herself. Bill praised her cooking and
+asked her why in ---- she ever put flour in her soda-biscuits. They were
+as yellow as saffron and fairly sizzled with their soda content. Alice
+thought Bill was praising her cooking and it pleased her mightily.
+
+“You jiggers let Alice alone,” ordered Crane. “She’s all right.”
+
+“But not for cookin’,” declared Slim. “She’s too danged thoughtful.” And
+then to Bill:
+
+“About six months ago she seen Crane take a spoonful of soda for
+indigestion. He was sufferin’ quite a lot and it fixed him up fine.
+Since then she’s dumped soda into everythin’ she cooked. By golly, I
+stirred my coffee the other mornin’ and it blew up in my face. She’d
+loaded it with soda, I reckon.”
+
+Crane laughed and called to Alice:
+
+“Never mind what they say, Alice. Yore cookin’ keeps me in shape.”
+
+“I be ----!” said Alice blankly.
+
+“Aw, she appreciates praise all right,” said Slim laughing. “When yuh
+goin’ to get married, Alice?”
+
+“Huh!” Alice snorted and turned her back.
+
+“She’s got a sweetheart,” grinned Slim, “Tucson Charley. You don’t know
+Tucson Charley, Smith. He works for Pablo. Him and Annie are goin’ to
+get married some day. I dunno what she can see in that cock-eyed breed;
+but love beats ----, don’t it?”
+
+“It sure does,” said Bill Smith slowly. “I reckon a cock-eyed half-breed
+can love. He sees things different than me and you, Slim; so we hadn’t
+ought to laugh at him.”
+
+“Aw, I ain’t laughin’ at him,” protested Slim. “I _sabe_ that he thinks
+Alice is as cute as a hair-trigger on a cannon. I’ve been in love, and I
+sure appreciate the feelin’, Smith.”
+
+Slim leaned back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling:
+
+“She was a village maiden, Smith. Her eyes were like jet and her hair
+was like----”
+
+“Oh, for ----’s sake, don’t tell it!” exploded Crane. “You make me itch
+for a gun every time yuh start it.”
+
+“Does he tell it often?” queried Bill Smith.
+
+“Every time he finds somebody that’ll listen.”
+
+Slim laughed and fumbled for his cigarette-makings.
+
+“I’ll slip it to yuh sometime when Crane ain’t around, Smith. It sure is
+a dinger of a recitation. Yuh can make it fit any girl.”
+
+Bill Smith nodded seriously and got up from the table.
+
+“You scare that gray bronc into the hills and help yourself to a decent
+animal,” said Crane, as they went outside. “There’s a tall roan down
+there that’s broke to everythin’ except a rope and a gun. Yuh might
+teach him a few things.
+
+“There’s a good saddle down in the bunkhouse, too. That hull you rode in
+here is liable to fall apart and leave yuh settin’ down. You might as
+well go with Slim over to the Paint Pot and see Pablo today. Pablo’s got
+about a hundred white-faced cows, which Big Jim wants, and I’ve got to
+try and buy ’em cheap. If Pablo knows that Big Jim wants ’em, he’ll jump
+the price; _sabe_?”
+
+“All right,” agreed Bill Smith, “but if he don’t talk more than he did
+yesterday, we’ll never know whether we’ve bought somethin’ or not.”
+
+“He’ll talk to Slim.”
+
+“Yeah, he’ll talk to me,” laughed Slim. “But I’ll betcha we’ll never get
+a short price on them white-faced cows. Pablo thinks they’re pintos.”
+
+They saddled and rode off across the hills toward the Paint Pot ranch.
+Bill Smith had taken the tall roan, a half-broken, hammer-headed brute,
+which wanted to hurdle everything in sight. Slim grinned in appreciation
+of Bill’s horsemanship.
+
+“That roan made me do a hoolihan,” he confided. “Crane thought he could
+fork it, and he ate his meals standin’ up for a few days. If he ever
+starts doin’ his wormfence, you’ll know you’ve been well-mounted; but I
+reckon you’ve forked ’em before.”
+
+It was about eight miles to the Paint Pot, and by the time they had
+covered that distance the roan was willing to take its time.
+
+They found Pablo and Mike John sitting against the shady side of the
+old ranchhouse, hugging their knees. Both of them squinted at the two
+cowpunchers but did not get up. Mose Dickey came around the corner of
+the house, halted at sight of Slim and Bill, and leaned heavily against
+the corner.
+
+Slim squatted on his heels in front of Pablo and rolled a cigarette.
+He had not spoken; neither had Pablo nor his men. The Indian blood
+predominated in their actions, and Slim knew them well enough to
+appreciate this fact. Bill Smith squatted down and offered his tobacco
+to Pablo, but it was refused.
+
+“Well, what do yuh know, Pablo?” queried Slim, after a long interval of
+silence.
+
+Pablo spat and rubbed his chin. Then--“Tucson Charley dead.”
+
+“Huh?”
+
+Slim removed his cigaret slowly, wonderingly.
+
+“Deader’n ----!” said Mike John.
+
+“Tucson Charley dead?” grunted Slim.
+
+“---- right!” grunted Pablo nodding violently.
+
+“Pretty ---- dead,” observed Mose Dickey without emotion.
+
+“Sounds like a settled fact,” observed Bill Smith.
+
+“What killed Tucson Charley?” asked Slim.
+
+“Horse kick ’m,” said Pablo.
+
+“Men say horse kill ’m,” corrected Mose Dickey.
+
+“Um-m,” said Pablo.
+
+“’Pears to be a difference of opinion, Slim,” observed Bill.
+
+Pablo got to his feet and motioned for them to follow him. They filed
+into the house where they viewed the remains of Tucson Charley, laid
+out on a sagging cot, covered with a gaudy blanket.
+
+“He’s dead,” said Pablo softly.
+
+“Deader’n ----!” said Mike John, with finality.
+
+“Where did it happen, Pablo?” asked Slim, as Bill Smith made a close
+examination of the dead man’s head.
+
+“Antelope.”
+
+Pablo hooked his thumbs over his belt and nodded slowly: “Charley he go
+town yesterday. Men say he got ---- drunk. I guess that right, too. Find
+’m this morning by hitch-rack.”
+
+“Pretty ---- dead,” added Mose Dickey.
+
+“Got drunk, fell into the bronc and got kicked in the head, eh?” said
+Slim.
+
+“Men say so,” agreed Pablo.
+
+“His horse?” asked Bill Smith.
+
+“---- right,” nodded Pablo. “Men bring horse, too.”
+
+“Where’s the horse?” asked Bill Smith.
+
+“Jus’ pinto horse,” said Mose Dickey.
+
+“Down by corral.”
+
+He jerked his thumb in that direction.
+
+Slim and Bill walked outside and looked down toward the tumble-down
+corral, where the pinto horse was still tied to the fence.
+
+“Let’s take a look at it, Slim,” suggested Bill.
+
+Pablo and Mose Dickey followed them down and watched Bill Smith throw
+his sombrero at the pinto’s heels. The animal jumped ahead, whirled and
+pulled back, but did not kick. Bill spoke softly to the animal, moved in
+close and soothed it. After working around it for a while he was able to
+examine its hoofs.
+
+“That’s a pretty good horse, Pablo,” said Bill after he had finished his
+examination.
+
+Pablo grinned and nodded quickly. There were four more pinto horses
+inside the corral and Bill looked them over.
+
+“You like pinto horses?” asked Pablo.
+
+“Yeah, I like ’em--in a circus,” replied Bill seriously.
+
+“I sell you good one--mebbe,” said Pablo.
+
+“Mebbe,” grinned Bill.
+
+They went back to the house and squatted in the shade, but this time
+Pablo accepted Bill Smith’s tobacco.
+
+“You got plenty white-faced cows, Pablo,” said Slim. “Market bad now.
+Meat not much good, skin small price. How much you want for white-faced
+cows?”
+
+Pablo thought this over for quite a while, alternately squinting at Slim
+and looking down at the ground. Then, his decision: “No trade now. Too
+sad, you _sabe_? Gotta bury Tucson Charley.”
+
+“Sure,” agreed Slim. “We talk ’nother time, eh?”
+
+“Um-m.”
+
+“Goin’ to have a preacher, ain’t yuh?” asked Bill Smith.
+
+“What for preacher?” queried Pablo blankly.
+
+“They don’t _sabe_ that,” said Slim before Bill had a chance to explain.
+“Let’s go home before they wish a shovel on to us.”
+
+They got on their horses and rode away, without even saying good-by to
+the Paint Pot outfit.
+
+“No use talkin’ business to ’em,” stated Slim. “They’re all in mournin’
+now, don’tcha know it? I _sabe_ ’em, Smith. They don’t act a danged bit
+mournful but, I’ll tell yuh right now, they feel bad. Mebbe they’re
+just a tough bunch of hombres, but they’ve been together a long time
+and this hits ’em hard. Tucson Charley wasn’t worth the rope it would
+take to hang him; but right now they all think he was the finest jigger
+that ever lifted a cow-critter.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+They swung out through a coulée, cutting across a hog-back ridge, when
+Slim drew up his horse and looked back. A rider was swinging in toward
+the ranch, coming from the south. The rider was only about five hundred
+yards away, traveling slowly.
+
+“By golly, I’ll betcha that’s Della Marsh!” exclaimed Slim, and then
+turned to explain who Della Marsh was.
+
+“That horse belongs to the livery-stable in Antelope,” declared Slim,
+“and Della Marsh works for the bank down there. Now, what in ---- is
+she doin’ at the Paint Pot?”
+
+“We better go back there and find out, eh?” suggested Bill Smith.
+“That’s no place for a girl, Slim.”
+
+“We’ll sure do that little thing--and it ain’t. C’mon.”
+
+They turned and rode back in a hurry. The girl had dismounted and was
+talking to Pablo. She looked curiously at them, as they rode up and
+swung off their horses. Their coming had put her in an embarrassing
+position, and even Pablo grinned sourly at them.
+
+“We seen yuh comin’, Della,” said Slim, “and I wanted yuh to meet my
+friend Smith.”
+
+They looked at each other for several moments and Della held out her
+hand to Bill Smith.
+
+“I am glad to meet you,” she said softly, as their hands met.
+
+Bill Smith mumbled something. He hardly knew what he was saying, because
+it seemed so ridiculous to be introduced to a girl he had known for
+years. Unconsciously he squeezed her hand and she drew away from him.
+
+“How come you ride away out here, Della?” asked Slim.
+
+“Why--” she brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes and smiled at
+him--“I don’t know. It just happened, I suppose.”
+
+“She want see Tucson Charley,” offered Pablo blandly. “She know he
+dead.”
+
+“Yes, I heard he had been killed,” said Della quickly.
+
+“She want look in his pocket,” stated Mose Dickey.
+
+“Huh?” Slim was interested.
+
+Della flushed for a moment, but her cheeks grew pale. She did not want
+to tell Slim and this stranger what she expected to find in Tucson
+Charley’s pockets.
+
+“Look in his pocket?” muttered Slim wonderingly. “What for?”
+
+“She no say,” Pablo shook his head.
+
+Slim turned to Della--
+
+“Has Tucson Charley got somethin’ in his pocket that yuh want?”
+
+“I----”
+
+She hesitated for a moment. She could hardly tell it all to Slim Whelan,
+because Slim was one of the men who had sent Tex to the penitentiary.
+Still, she had known Slim for years, and liked him.
+
+“I don’t know,” she finished truthfully.
+
+“Well, by golly, we’ll sure find out!” blurted Slim and went into the
+house.
+
+Pablo acted as if he might object to this, but let it pass. He knew that
+Slim would not take kindly to objections.
+
+Della made no move to follow Slim; so Bill Smith stayed with her. Pablo
+went to the doorway and watched inside, while Slim made a search of the
+corpse.
+
+“You work in the bank, Miss Marsh?” asked Bill.
+
+“Yes,” nervously watching the doorway.
+
+“Bank belongs to Mott, don’t it?”
+
+She nodded shortly. Slim was coming out, rubbing his hands on his hips.
+The job had not been to his liking.
+
+“Ain’t got a thing in his pockets, Della,” he declared, “I even felt
+inside his shirt-front, and I’m plumb glad that my folks never raised
+me to be an undertaker.”
+
+“Nothing in his pockets.”
+
+Della squinted painfully. It meant that some one had that note. She
+looked at the blank expression on Pablo’s face, wondering whether or
+not he knew about Tex. She felt that Tucson Charley would hardly know
+it alone.
+
+“You better set down on the steps, Della,” urged Slim. “You look so
+dog-gone white around the gills.”
+
+“I’m all right,” she protested, “I--I think I will go now.”
+
+She turned to her horse and Slim helped her mount.
+
+“We’ll ride down the road a ways with yuh, Della,” said Slim. “We’re
+goin’ in that direction.”
+
+She rode slowly away and they overtook her in a short distance.
+
+“You hadn’t ought to come out here alone, Della,” said Slim. “Pablo
+and his gang may be all right, but it ain’t no place for a girl to
+come alone.”
+
+Della nodded, but did not reply. Slim lifted himself in his stirrups
+and glanced back toward the Paint Pot as he swung his horse in closer
+to her.
+
+“Listen here, Dell,” he said softly, “you can trust me and Smith. Tell
+us what Tucson Charley had that you wanted, and we’ll get it just as
+sure as ---- made little apples.”
+
+“You couldn’t, Slim,” she replied. “Whoever has it will keep it, I
+think.”
+
+“Not if I know what it is,” declared Slim. “Tell us what to look for,
+Della.”
+
+Della stared at the bobbing ears of her horse and tried to make up
+her mind what to say. Some one had that note. It would be no secret
+now, unless it fell into the hands of some one who was a friend of
+Tex Rowland. Perhaps, she thought, that note was already on its way
+to the sheriff. There was a big reward offered for Tex, payable on
+information that would lead to his recapture.
+
+She knew that Slim had not helped to send Tex to the prison on any
+personal grievance. They had been friends for a long time, and Slim
+was only doing what any other cattleman would have done.
+
+“Yuh goin’ to tell us?” queried Slim.
+
+“I think I will, Slim,” she said slowly. “Tucson Charley brought me a
+note yesterday. I scribbled a line on it and gave it back to him to
+return to the man who wrote it. I know that Tucson Charley did not
+return it, and I thought he might still have it in his pockets.”
+
+“I kinda understand,” nodded Slim. “It was a note, eh? Well, who wrote
+it, Della?”
+
+“Tex Rowland.”
+
+Bill Smith jerked up on his reins so quickly that the half-broke
+horse reared and whirled off the road. In a moment he had it under
+control--and himself, too.
+
+“Tex Rowland, eh?” grunted Slim, as Bill swung in beside him again.
+“Well, I’ll be darned! Tucson brought you a note from him, eh? Tex
+didn’t say where he was, did he, Della?”
+
+“No, he didn’t say, Slim. But he must be close to Antelope. If the
+sheriff gets hold of that note he will probably search. Tex said he
+had been hurt, but was getting along better now. But he is broke and
+needs money badly.”
+
+“Have yuh any idea who got the note?” asked Bill Smith.
+
+“No. I don’t know who found Tucson Charley this morning. Somebody
+brought him out here to the Paint Pot. He must have had the note in
+his pocket when he was killed, because he did not leave town after he
+came to see me.”
+
+“We’ll see if we can find out a few things in town,” said Slim. “If I
+can find out who got that note, I’ll sure ride ’em ragged until they
+give me that note.”
+
+“Let me do some of the ridin’, Slim,” said Bill Smith. “I’m kinda
+interested in it, too.”
+
+Della shot a glance of gratitude to the stranger, who was willing to
+assist her, but he was looking straight ahead and did not see it. He
+was trying to puzzle out a reason for any one writing a note to her
+and signing his name.
+
+Della went straight to the livery-stable, while Slim and Bill tied their
+horses at the Fashion hitch-rack and went into the saloon. Big Jim Mott
+was standing in front of a restaurant across the street and watched them
+ride into town. After Slim and Bill had gone into the saloon, Big Jim
+crossed the street and came in behind them.
+
+It did not take Slim long to find out that Tucson Charley had been found
+at daylight by Pete Sutherland, the blacksmith, and old Ase Bradley.
+They had notified others, including the doctor, and Pete had driven the
+team that hauled Tucson’s body out to the Paint Pot.
+
+Slim and Bill had a drink and then went to the blacksmith shop, where
+they found Pete repairing a broken wagon-spring.
+
+“---- road was rough,” explained Pete wearily. “Broke a spring.”
+
+“Kinda bumpy ridin’ for the corpse, wasn’t it?” grinned Slim.
+
+“Well, he didn’t complain any,” laughed Pete, wiping the perspiration
+off his brow and sitting on his anvil.
+
+“You found him, didn’t yuh?” queried Slim.
+
+“Yeah--me and old Ase. He was almost under that pinto, and it’s a wonder
+that the pinto didn’t walk him into the ground.”
+
+“Yeah, it is, at that,” agreed Slim. “But he wasn’t cut up any. What do
+yuh do, when yuh find a dead man, Pete? Go through his pockets and all
+that?”
+
+“Well, we didn’t,” grinned Pete. “Yuh see, we knowed Tucson so well that
+we didn’t have to investigate him thataway.”
+
+“I suppose the doctor investigated,” said Bill.
+
+“Nothin’ except to look him over and tell us what we already knew. If
+Tucson carried any cree-den-shuls in his pockets, they’re still in
+’em--unless Pablo or his gang cleaned him out.”
+
+“They look like they might,” laughed Bill.
+
+They went back to their horses, no wiser than when they came to town. It
+was evident that no one had searched Tucson Charley, unless, as Pete had
+said, Pablo or his gang might have done it.
+
+“Which they didn’t,” declared Slim. “Them three breeds ain’t goin’ to
+do a thing like that. They wouldn’t touch him on a bet. If Tucson had
+a hundred dollars in his pants pocket, and Pablo knew it was there, it
+would be buried with the corpse.”
+
+They rode back to the XO-Bar-5, arriving there in time for supper. Crane
+was already eating his meal, while the half-breed, Alice Spotted Horse,
+shuffled back and forth from table to stove, attending to his wants.
+
+“How’d the pow-wow come out?” asked Crane, as they sat down.
+
+Alice had stopped and was looking at them. It was then that Slim
+realized what the news would mean to her. He looked at Bill Smith,
+who had also realized the same thing. Crane felt that something was
+not exactly right and waited for Slim to explain.
+
+“This is goin’ to be just too ---- bad,” said Slim softly. And then he
+spoke directly to Alice----
+
+“Alice, I’ve got some bad news for yuh.”
+
+She blinked and stared at him. Perhaps she did not understand what he
+meant. He was always joking with her.
+
+“Tucson Charley got killed last night, Alice.”
+
+She frowned slightly. Crane also scowled at Slim. He thought that Slim
+was joking, too; and it wasn’t a good joke at all.
+
+“Got kicked to death by a horse last night, Crane,” said Bill Smith
+softly.
+
+Alice lifted a hand and brushed a stringer of black hair out of her
+eyes. She was beginning to realize what Slim had said.
+
+“Tucson Charley?” she asked thickly.
+
+“Yeah, Alice. Horse kicked him last night. Too bad.”
+
+“Last night?” She was not looking at them now. Her eyes had closed
+tightly for a second, but now she was staring over their heads.
+
+“Yeah, last night,” said Slim.
+
+“Horse kick Tucson Charley? He dead now?”
+
+“Yeah, Alice,” softly.
+
+“I be ----!”
+
+She barely breathed it. Her right hand came up to brush away the
+stringer of hair again, but stopped and fell back at her side.
+
+“I be ----!”
+
+Then she turned around to the stove and picked up a skillet. The three
+men looked at each other and then looked away. Alice turned and looked
+at Bill Smith. In one hand she held the skillet and in the other an egg.
+She indicated the skillet and made a motion toward it with the egg. She
+wanted to know if he would like to have eggs for supper. Indians are not
+the stoics that some would like to believe; and anyway, Alice was
+half-breed. As Bill Smith watched her pantomime, a tear rolled down her
+cheek.
+
+Quickly she turned away, but not before they had all seen the tears.
+Bill got to his feet and stepped away from the table.
+
+“Aw, ----! I don’t want any supper,” he grunted.
+
+“Me neither,” said Slim softly.
+
+Crane got up and the three of them filed outside. Bill glanced back into
+the kitchen. Alice Spotted Horse was standing at the stove, skillet and
+egg in her hands, staring into space.
+
+“She didn’t see us go out,” said Bill Smith softly.
+
+“No-o-o, I don’t reckon she did,” agreed Slim. “I seen that squashed
+aig runnin’ out between her fingers, Bill. Death sure does raise ----
+with love thataway.”
+
+“And it’s like a ---- rattler; it don’t care who it bites,” said Crane
+sadly. “She’ll go out into the hills pretty soon. The Injun blood is
+stronger than the white thataway. She’ll wail all night, I betcha; but
+she’ll go where we can’t hear her.”
+
+“And about that time we’ll swipe the coffee-pot and make us a feed in
+the bunkhouse,” opined Slim. “The Lord must ’a’ handed me a soft spot
+for other folks’ grief; but he also handed me a man-sized stummick.
+How about you, Smith?”
+
+“Well, I don’t want any eggs,” replied Bill. “They’ll always remind me
+of that Injun girl, tryin’ to keep from cryin’. It took her quite a
+while to get it; but when she did, she sure got it all in a bunch.”
+
+“She’s goin’ out,” whispered Crane. “I said she would, didn’t I?”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Alice Spotted Horse came out the front door of the house, turned to the
+right and started off up a trail which led into the hills.
+
+She had thrown a colored blanket around her shoulders and over her head,
+making her a blotch of color against the gray of the hill. Straight up
+the trail she went, never looking back. They watched her until the color
+of the blanket blended into the dim distance of the hills.
+
+“It’s just too danged bad, that’s all,” said Slim, as they turned away.
+Neither of the others commented on it in any way.
+
+“We saw Della Marsh today, Crane,” continued Slim. “By ----, I feel
+like a dirty pup every time I see her. We didn’t do anything wrong
+when we sent Tex Rowland to the pen; but right now I wish to gosh we
+hadn’t ’a’ done it.”
+
+“Yeah, I suppose we might ’a’ done different,” agreed Crane. “But there
+was so danged much stealin’ goin’ on.”
+
+“Has it quit since he was sent up?” asked Bill Smith.
+
+“Yeah, I think it has. Still, I dunno. I signed that petition to have
+Tex pardoned.”
+
+“I sure did,” added Slim quickly.
+
+“Was there a petition to have him pardoned?” queried Bill.
+
+“Sure,” nodded Crane. “Everybody in the country signed it. This Marsh
+girl rode all over the county gettin’ signers. Every man on his jury
+signed it. By golly, a woman sure can work on the sympathy of a
+cowpuncher.”
+
+Bill Smith squinted painfully and busied himself with making a cigaret.
+
+“I don’t _sabe_ why Tex made a getaway like he did,” commented Slim.
+“It was almost a cinch he’d get out on parole, even if he didn’t get
+pardoned. Della must a wrote him about it. If she didn’t, I’ll betcha
+old Rory McPherson did.”
+
+“Mebbe Tex didn’t have no faith left,” offered Crane. “It was a queer
+move for him to make, anyway, considerin’ what his friends were doin’
+for him. If they catch him now, they sure won’t pardon him very quick.”
+
+“Well, let’s not dwell on any more grief tonight,” said Slim, “I’ll get
+that coffee-pot right now.”
+
+Slim and Crane went into the house, while Bill Smith went slowly down
+to the bunk-house. He knew now what Old Hump Sherrill had meant when he
+spoke about a pardon. The old man had known that a movement was under
+way, but had had no chance to tell him.
+
+And for some reason McHague, the warden, had stolen Tex Rowland’s
+letters; letters from Della and possibly from Rory McPherson, telling
+him of what they were doing for him. And now some one was using his
+name in writing notes to Della Marsh.
+
+“Kinda makes me wonder if I am Tex Rowland,” he declared to himself.
+“I don’t look a bit like him, that’s a cinch. And I’ll never be able
+to prove who I am. But I sure hope that I run across this jigger who
+signs Tex’s name to letters. If he’s Tex Rowland, I’ll sure recognize
+him. And if he is, who in ---- am I?”
+
+He turned and stared off across the dim hills. Somewhere out there a
+half-breed woman was wailing out her grief over a lost sweetheart, and
+his sympathy went out to her.
+
+“We’re almost in the same fix, Alice,” he said softly. “You’ve got a
+chance to wail yours out all to once; but I’ve got to stick around,
+like a danged ghost, and just look on, that’s all.”
+
+Slim was coming down from the kitchen, carrying a coffee-pot and some
+tin dishes that jangled softly. Bill Smith broke off his musings and
+went to meet him.
+
+
+
+
+                                   VI
+
+
+“What do ye expect me to say?” Old Rory McPherson squinted at Jack
+Lohman who was sitting on his horse in front of the RMP ranch-house,
+in Rainbow Valley. It was two days after the death of Tucson Charley.
+The old man held a soiled piece of paper in his hand, and the breeze
+shook his mop of red hair almost over his serious eyes.
+
+“I didn’t expect yuh to say anything, Rory,” replied the sheriff easily.
+“If you’ve got any opinion, I’d like to have it.”
+
+Old Rory looked down at the paper and shook his head.
+
+“I ha’ nothin’ to say, Lohman. No doubt ye tell an honest tale, and the
+letter speaks for itself. Ye say ye know nothin’ about who sent it to
+ye, lad?”
+
+“Not a thing, Rory. It came in a plain envelope, as you can see.”
+
+“Aye, I can see that.”
+
+“Is that Della Marsh’s writin’, Rory?”
+
+Old Rory squinted at the writing again: “_I love ye, Tex, in spite of
+ever-rythin’._” “Aye, that is her writin’, lad. Her name is there.”
+
+“Well, it’s sure got me fightin’ my head,” admitted the sheriff. “It
+don’t tell where Tex is, but it says that he’s been hurt and needs
+money. Mebbe Miss Marsh knows where he is.”
+
+“Aye,” nodded old Rory sadly, “she may know. Ye’ll ask her?”
+
+“I will not. If I can catch him myself, I’ll do it, Rory; but I’ll sneak
+up on no ---- man behind a woman. Tex Rowland is probably in Rainbow
+Valley or out in the Antelope; which covers a lot of good hidin’ places.
+It looks to me like somebody had found this note and sent it to me. It’s
+a cinch that Miss Marsh didn’t send it. Maybe Tex lost it himself, Rory.
+There’s a lot of ways for it to have been lost; but it’s a cinch that
+somebody sent it to me.”
+
+“Ye have the evidence of that,” smiled old Rory. “I wish I knew where
+Tex is. It’s har-rd luck to be sick and in need.”
+
+“Sure is,” agreed Lohman, putting the letter back in his pocket. “I’ll
+be driftin’ along, Rory.”
+
+“Ye’ll stay for a meal with us, won’t ye?”
+
+“No, I’d better be goin’, I think.”
+
+“Ye know best,” nodded Rory. “But the ranch is always open to ye, lad;
+and we’d like to have ye stay. Ye are not a Mott man.”
+
+Lohman laughed and shook his head:
+
+“Not that anybody knows about, Rory. No, I don’t think that Mr. Mott
+deals in county politics; he shoots higher than that.”
+
+“He may overshoot.”
+
+“It has been done, Rory. But Big Jim is pretty solid, I reckon. You sure
+jolted his pride the other day, and if I was you I’d sure keep one eye
+open. Big Jim won’t forget it very soon.”
+
+“I hope he don’t, lad,” said Rory seriously. “There has long been bad
+blood between us. He wants Rainbow Valley, ye know. Well--” the old man
+sighed deeply--“he’ll not get it as long as there’s a McPherson here.”
+
+“It’s worth havin’,” agreed the sheriff warmly. “There’s not a better
+range in the world than this valley. But what is this I hear about your
+niece goin’ to work for Big Jim?”
+
+The old man’s eyes hardened as he nodded slowly. But there was more
+sorrow than anger in his face as he brushed the hair out of his eyes,
+and looked up at the sheriff.
+
+“Aye, it’s true, lad. She’s gone over to the enemy. But she had nothin’
+again’ the man, except that--well, after all, why should she share my
+hate? I’m gettin’ old, so I am; and I want my own with me. She’s all
+I’ve got, lad; and I haven’t her--now.”
+
+The old man’s voice broke wistfully. The sheriff reached out his hand to
+the old man.
+
+“Well, so-long, Rory. Mebbe it ain’t as bad as it looks. Do yuh want to
+send her any message?”
+
+The old man shook his head slowly, thoughtfully, and started to walk
+away; but turned and smiled:
+
+“Aye. Ye might tell her that Rosie O’Grady has five sons and two
+daughters.”
+
+“Rosie O’Grady?”
+
+“The cat. It’s her cat, lad. And she might like to know.”
+
+The sheriff grinned and rode away from the RMP. He liked the dour old
+Scot and would have stayed for dinner, but he was anxious to find out
+what he could about the note. He was not hunting for Tex Rowland. Of
+course, he was rather curious to know where Tex was hiding; but he
+was more curious to find out who had sent him the note that Tex had
+written to Della Marsh.
+
+It was near the forks of the road, one of which led to the XO-Bar-5,
+that he met, or rather ran into, Slim Whelan and Bill Smith. They were
+riding toward town, but waited for him to join them.
+
+“I always feel safer when I’m ridin’ with the sheriff,” grinned Slim.
+
+“You do need protection,” laughed the sheriff, as he rode up to them.
+
+Slim introduced him to Bill Smith, and the three of them rode to
+Antelope together. The sheriff did not mention the note to them,
+because he knew that Slim had been instrumental in sending Tex to the
+penitentiary.
+
+“You heard about Tucson Charley gettin’ killed, didn’t yuh?” asked Slim.
+
+The sheriff nodded. “Yeah, it kinda surprised me, Slim.”
+
+“Why did it surprise yuh?”
+
+“I didn’t think a horse could kick hard enough to bust his head.”
+
+“Well, this one did,” assured Slim.
+
+“Where’s Crane?” asked the sheriff.
+
+“He’s in town. Made a deal with Paint Pablo for some cows, and I reckon
+he’s fixin’ up the deal at the bank.”
+
+They rode into town and left their horses at the hitch-rack.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+That same morning Big Jim came to the bank and told Della that he had
+brought in a good saddle-horse for her to use. He lingered quite a while
+at her desk.
+
+“I’m spending too much time around here,” he laughed. “Since you came
+to work here I’ve neglected my ranch, don’t you know it? Well, I have,
+Della. Before you came, I didn’t show up around here once a week; now
+I’m here all the time.”
+
+Della passed it off with a laugh. She did not want Big Jim to make
+love to her, and she was almost sure that that was why he had given
+her a good position in the bank. Still he had never been offensive in
+any way.
+
+He went over to the cashier’s desk and engaged him in conversation for
+several minutes, before motioning Della to come over to them.
+
+“Get me twenty-five hundred dollars in fairly big bills,” he told her.
+
+She went into the vault and came back with the required amount, which
+Big Jim counted carefully. He asked the cashier for a long envelope,
+which he secured for Big Jim. Putting the bills into the envelope, Big
+Jim handed it to Della.
+
+“Martin Crane will be in this morning and you are to give this
+twenty-five hundred to him. He will probably have Pablo with him. It
+is money to be paid on a cattle deal.”
+
+Della nodded and carried the envelope back to her desk. Big Jim left a
+few minutes later, and in about an hour Martin Crane came in. He was
+alone.
+
+“Mott leave somethin’ here for me?” he asked.
+
+Della handed him the envelope, which he stuffed into his pocket.
+
+“Don’t you want to count it?” she asked.
+
+He jerked it out of his pocket, glanced at the mass of bills inside and
+shoved it back.
+
+“’T’s all right,” he grunted. “I’ve got to rope that danged Pablo before
+he changes his mind ag’in.”
+
+He fairly ran out of the bank and headed up the street. Della smiled and
+went back to her work. In about fifteen minutes Crane came back into the
+bank.
+
+“Where’s Big Jim?” he demanded.
+
+“He went out about an hour before you came in this morning,” replied
+Della. “He didn’t say where he was going.”
+
+“By ----, he’s some business man!” snorted Crane angrily. “Here I
+almost had to hog-tie that danged Pablo to get him to town to sell me
+them white-faced cows. I told Jim Mott what I wanted, dang his soul!
+Now the deal is all off.”
+
+“I’m sure we know nothing about it, Mr. Crane,” smiled Della. “He gave
+me that money to give to you.”
+
+“Well, you can have it back, young lady!”
+
+Crane flipped the long envelope back to her. She opened it and counted
+the money, looking up at him in astonishment.
+
+“Why, there’s only fifteen hundred dollars here!” she exclaimed.
+
+“Y’ danged right that’s all there is! I told Big Jim that I had to have
+twenty-five hundred.”
+
+“But--but--” faltered Della.
+
+The cashier crossed over to her and counted the money. It totalled
+exactly fifteen hundred.
+
+“That’s queer,” muttered the cashier.
+
+“What’s queer?” demanded Crane.
+
+The cashier straightened up, his thin lips compressed tightly--
+
+“I saw Mr. Mott put twenty-five hundred dollars into that envelope,
+Crane.”
+
+Crane leaned across the counter, his brow furrowed questioningly.
+
+“You mean to say that there was twenty-five hundred in that envelope
+when I got it?”
+
+“I--I don’t know what to say. Mr. Mott had Miss Marsh get the money from
+the vault, and we both know that he put it into the envelope--didn’t he,
+Miss Marsh?”
+
+Della did not reply.
+
+“Well, it sure as ---- wasn’t there when I tried to pay it to Pablo,”
+declared Crane. “And that whole deal is spoiled. He’s got the idea now
+that I was tryin’ to cheat him. I said--
+
+“Here’s your twenty-five hundred dollars, Pablo.”
+
+“I handed him the whole works. And any old time yuh think that
+half-breed can’t count, yo’re all wrong. He counted it as quick as I
+could, and then he says:
+
+“You pretty ---- smart, eh? Cheat Injun, eh? You go to ----!”
+
+“And that’s what I know about it.”
+
+“But I tell you, it was in there----”
+
+Della stopped. Big Jim was coming into the bank. He nodded to Crane, but
+stopped and looked at them. It was evident at a glance that something
+was all wrong.
+
+“Did you finish that deal with Pablo, Crane?” he asked.
+
+“You know danged well I didn’t,” growled Crane.
+
+“I do? Where did you get that idea?”
+
+“I told you I wanted twenty-five hundred dollars, Mott.”
+
+“Well, that’s what you got.”
+
+“I did not! I got fifteen hundred, that’s all.”
+
+Big Jim looked curiously at Della and the cashier, rubbing his chin with
+the ball of his right thumb.
+
+“I--I gave him that envelope, Mr. Mott,” said Della.
+
+“I got the envelope,” nodded Crane.
+
+“Didn’t you count the money?” asked Big Jim.
+
+“No, I didn’t have time. You know Pablo. I argued him into the deal and
+he wanted the money right then. I told him I had to go to the bank after
+it, and he started after his horse; so I ran down here after the money.
+----, I didn’t take time to count it.”
+
+“And the envelope only contained fifteen hundred, eh?” Thus Big Jim
+thoughtfully. “There was twenty-five hundred in--oh, well, the deal
+is off, anyway. Maybe we can have another talk with Pablo.”
+
+Big Jim turned away and went into his private office. Crane squinted
+after him and walked out of the bank, leaving Della and the cashier
+looking at each other. Then the cashier turned away and went back to
+his desk.
+
+There had been no accusations, but Della knew that everything pointed
+to the fact that she had taken the money. Was it all in the envelope
+when Crane got it from her, she wondered? Or did Crane take it out on
+his way to meet Pablo?
+
+The cashier spoke her name and she turned to see Big Jim in the doorway
+of his office, motioning for her to come. She went to him and he closed
+the door behind them. She was not afraid.
+
+He motioned her to a chair and sat down on the edge of his flat-top
+desk.
+
+“That’s a queer deal, Della,” he said softly.
+
+“Do you think I took it?” she demanded.
+
+“Don’t talk that way,” he parried. “I’m not accusing any one. Crane
+could have taken the money.”
+
+“But you don’t believe he did.”
+
+Della got to her feet and faced him hotly.
+
+“Sit down, please,” he begged. “There is no use getting mad about it,
+Della.”
+
+“You think I’m a thief.”
+
+The tears came to her eyes. She wanted to cry, but was too angry.
+
+“You are accusing yourself, little lady. Now, sit down and be patient.
+It’s only a thousand dollars, anyway; and it won’t break me.” He laughed
+softly. “I’ve got a good many of them. Whoever got that money is welcome
+to it, do you understand? I will see that no one knows it, except those
+who already know.”
+
+“Is that fair to me?” she demanded.
+
+Big Jim smiled and snipped the end off a cigar with his strong teeth.
+
+“Della,” he said slowly, “I’m not going to investigate. It would only
+start a scandal, and I’d rather lose a thousand than to start trouble.
+Whoever got that money needs it more than I do.”
+
+“Needs it?” she repeated.
+
+“People hardly ever take what they do not need, Della.”
+
+The one sentence in Tex Rowland’s note--_I need about five hundred
+dollars_--flashed through her mind, and she looked up quickly to find
+him looking at her closely, as if reading her mind.
+
+“Maybe Crane needed it,” he said softly.
+
+It was as if he suspected her, but was willing to give her a slight
+doubt. Her face paled and she drew away from him.
+
+“You mean that I did--and Mr. Crane might have?” she queried.
+
+“Oh, pshaw!”
+
+Big Jim threw away his cigar and came toward her.
+
+“Listen to me, Della: We’ll both forget this. As far as I’m concerned,
+it’s a closed incident. I’d be willing to give you many times that
+amount, if you would ask me for it. I like you better than any girl
+I’ve ever known.”
+
+“And still you believe I stole from you.”
+
+“That’s all past and gone, Della.”
+
+“It is not past and gone, Mr. Mott. This is not something you can wipe
+out with a few words.”
+
+“Well,” he laughed, a half-sneer on his face, “what would you have me
+do? Accuse you of theft? Drag your name in the dirt? Don’t be a fool,
+Della. If you’ve got any sense left, you’ll let me bury this whole
+thing. You know that I care a lot for you, little lady.”
+
+“But am I a thief?” she demanded hotly. “There has been no
+investigation.”
+
+“Do you want one?” Big Jim’s voice hardened slightly.
+
+“I demand one.”
+
+He considered her seriously for several moments and shrugged his
+shoulders.
+
+“There must be some Scotch blood in you, Della.”
+
+“Yes--the McPherson blood, Mr. Mott.”
+
+Big Jim laughed savagely and his right hand went unconsciously to his
+ear. He could still feel the sting of old Rory’s blow.
+
+“McPherson blood, eh? That hard-headed old ----!” He laughed and shook
+his head. “He won’t welcome an investigation.”
+
+“He has nothing to do with it,” reminded Della coldly.
+
+“No? And you his only living relative?”
+
+“This is my battle--not his.”
+
+Big Jim drew out a fresh cigar and lighted it. Della moved back to the
+door and reached for the knob.
+
+“Wait a minute,” said Big Jim. “I want you to be sure that you want
+this to go on, Della. I suppose you know what it means. It will be
+bad for you, no matter which way it goes. The theft lies between you
+and Martin Crane. One of you must have taken that money, don’t you
+see?
+
+“It would be almost impossible to convict a girl like you in this
+country. But, even if you were cleared of the charge, there would
+always be a doubt, unless the money was recovered. Can you afford to
+take that chance?”
+
+“You haven’t given me a chance,” she said bitterly. “You let Mr. Crane
+go where he would. If he took the money, he has had plenty of chance to
+dispose of it by this time. Was that fair?”
+
+“Possibly not, Della. But I thought you would listen to reason. I don’t
+want to lose you. I gave you this position, in order to see you once in
+a while. You don’t need to work. Just say the word and I’ll see that you
+never have to work for anybody again.”
+
+She faced him squarely, her back against the door. There was nothing
+timid about her now.
+
+“Do you mean that you want to marry me?” she asked.
+
+He smiled at her and shifted the cigar between his lips.
+
+“I’d sure take you a long ways away from here,” he said, ignoring her
+direct question. “I could dress you in silks, furs and diamonds, little
+lady. I’d show you the bright lights and give you everything that goes
+with them. You’d soon forget the cattle-country.”
+
+“Because you love me?” she asked coldly.
+
+Something in her voice caused him to hesitate; something that made him
+know that she detested him thoroughly. Her head was held high and her
+eyes surveyed him coldly.
+
+“And you would do this because you love me?” she repeated.
+
+He leaned toward her, his teeth clenched tightly on his cigar, his eyes
+narrowed. Then he struck the top of the desk with his clenched hand.
+
+“No, by ----!” he gritted. “But I’d do it to break the heart of that
+sniffling old uncle of yours. I told him I’d break him, if it was the
+last thing I’d ever do. I’d be good to you, just to show him that I
+mean what I say. Now you can take your choice.”
+
+His lips were white with anger, but they were no whiter than her cheeks
+as she turned and walked out without a reply, leaving him staring after
+her, the drool from his cigar running down over his trembling chin.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+She went out through the front door and up the sidewalk, just as the
+sheriff, Slim Whelan and Bill Smith were tying their horses at the
+Fashion hitch-rack. She did not see them. In fact, she was incapable
+of seeing anything, and almost ran into them.
+
+“Whoa, Blaze!” exclaimed Slim softly, putting out a hand to steady her.
+
+She looked up quickly, dazedly.
+
+“I--I beg your pardon,” she said huskily and half-staggered past them.
+
+The three men turned and watched her.
+
+“Now, what do you know about that?” wondered Slim aloud. “She’s as white
+as a sheet and she’s got both fists shut tight.”
+
+“Acts like she’s walkin’ in her sleep,” said the sheriff. “Mebbe she’s
+sick.”
+
+Bill Smith turned as if to follow her, but remembered that he was not to
+do such things. There was no doubt that Della was suffering, and he
+wanted to help her. Crane was coming out of the saloon, and noticed that
+the three men were looking at Della. He, too, watched her cross the main
+street, and then came over to the three men. “What’s the matter with
+her?” he asked.
+
+“That’s what we’re wonderin’,” said Slim. “She acts like she’s sick.
+Danged near ran into us, didn’t she, Bill? Kinda like she had
+blind-staggers, don’tcha know it?”
+
+Della had disappeared down the little side street; so they all turned
+back to the saloon door.
+
+“Didja fix up that deal with Pablo?” asked Slim.
+
+Crane shook his head. Big Jim was coming up the street toward them and
+they waited for him. He nodded curtly to them and spoke directly to the
+sheriff--
+
+“Lohman, I want to have a word with you.”
+
+“All right,” nodded the sheriff, and they walked back toward the bank
+together, while the other three men went into the saloon.
+
+“I wonder what Big Jim wanted of the sheriff,” said Slim, as they filled
+their glasses.
+
+Crane drank thoughtfully and motioned for them to have another. It
+was not like Martin Crane to drink raw whisky. They noticed that he
+was filling his glass to the brim. Three big drinks of it went down
+his gullet before he turned his back on the bar.
+
+His lips twisted in a grim smile as he hitched his holster around, and
+rubbed the palm of his right hand on his hip. Slim and Bill exchanged
+glances. They knew that Crane had shocked his system with strong liquor
+for a reason.
+
+“I’ve got a hunch what Big Jim wanted him for,” he said slowly, his eyes
+hardening with anger. “And I’m all set, y’betcha.”
+
+“Let’s have another drink, gents,” suggested the bartender.
+
+“I’ve got a-plenty,” replied Crane evenly. “You fellers go ahead.”
+
+They turned back to the bar, but took cigars this time.
+
+“We’re with yuh, Crane,” said Bill Smith softly. “I dunno what it’s all
+about--but count us in.”
+
+It was several minutes later when the sheriff came into the saloon. He
+stopped in the doorway and looked at the three men at the bar. Crane was
+slightly hunched, immovable. The sheriff gave a slight shake of his head
+and came up to the bar beside Slim.
+
+“I’ll buy a drink,” he said slowly, nodding to the bartender. “I reckon
+I need one now.”
+
+Crane relaxed slightly and accepted a cigar. The sheriff was very
+thoughtful as he drank his liquor. Crane watched him closely, standing
+slightly apart from the rest. Then the sheriff indicated the door, with
+a slight jerk of his head, and they followed him outside.
+
+“Crane,” he said, as they grouped near the hitch-rack, “what do you know
+about that money deal this mornin’?”
+
+Crane swore softly, as he outlined what had happened.
+
+“You didn’t count the money at the time yuh got it, eh?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Big Jim and the girl had quite a run-in, I reckon,” stated the sheriff.
+“He’s sure she got the money. But he didn’t search her; just let her
+walk out. Now he wants me to arrest her for stealing his thousand
+dollars.”
+
+Bill Smith said nothing, but he turned away, staring back toward the
+bank, fighting against an impulse to go there and kill Big Jim Mott.
+
+“No wonder she looked sick,” said Slim sadly.
+
+“Why don’t he have me arrested?” asked Crane. “I could ’a’ taken that
+money. ---- him and his money! I’ve got a notion to go down there and
+heave a gun into his teeth. Why would that girl steal money from him?”
+
+Slim and Bill Smith glanced quickly at each other. Both of them knew
+about that fraudulent note and of Tex’s request for money.
+
+Lohman’s eye had been quick enough to read the unspoken question between
+them. In his pocket was a mighty good reason for Della to take the
+money. It would go a long way toward convincing the jury of her guilt,
+in case it was produced in court. He felt sure that Slim and Bill knew
+something about that note, but he did not want to question them.
+
+“I wouldn’t start trouble with Mott over it,” advised the sheriff. “He’s
+naturally sore over losing the money, and I guess he and that girl had a
+row, which didn’t help matters none. Where does she live?”
+
+None of them knew; so they went to the post-office and the sheriff
+inquired. Crane went back to the saloon, but Slim and Bill went down
+to the dressmaker’s home with the sheriff. Della was not there, but
+there was a note pinned to the front door. It read:
+
+    Miss Freeland:
+    I have gone back to Rainbow Valley.
+
+It was just signed with an initial “D.”
+
+“Well, I’m ---- glad of that,” sighed the sheriff, as they went back
+to the main street, and the sheriff led them to the livery-stable. The
+stable-man nodded, when the sheriff questioned him, and said:
+
+“Yeah, she went away a little while ago. Big Jim brought a horse here
+for her to use, but she took one of our horses instead. No, she didn’t
+say where she was goin’.”
+
+They went back up the street, and Big Jim accosted them as they passed
+the bank.
+
+“She’s gone back to Rainbow Valley,” said the sheriff, in answer to Big
+Jim’s question. “Hired a livery-horse.”
+
+Bill Smith had stopped close to Big Jim, who scowled at the sheriff’s
+statement.
+
+“Did, eh?” he grunted sourly. “Gone back to Rainbow. Well, you can find
+her there, can’t you, Lohman?”
+
+“Yeah, I can.”
+
+The sheriff did not enthuse over the prospect.
+
+“All right--go and get her.”
+
+“Yuh aim to put her in jail?” queried Bill Smith softly.
+
+Big Jim squinted at him, his lips curling with sarcasm:
+
+“What in ---- did you think I was going to do? She’s a thief and----”
+
+Right at that point Big Jim’s sentence ended, when Bill Smith’s right
+fist, traveling in a wide arc, caught him midway between the point of
+his chin and the hinge of his jaw. It was all done in a second. Big
+Jim’s mouth was still set for the next word of his sentence when he
+hit the sidewalk.
+
+The sheriff and Slim stepped back a few steps, staring at the prostrate
+Big Jim Mott and at Bill Smith. Big Jim did not move; neither did Bill
+Smith, who had stepped back, slightly crouched, waiting for Big Jim to
+recover.
+
+“One’s enough,” whispered Slim foolishly. “My ----, what a punch!”
+
+The sheriff looked curiously at Bill Smith, and wondered just why
+this handsome cowpuncher had smashed Big Jim for calling the girl a
+thief. It was unlooked for in a stranger. Several other men were
+hurrying down toward them, and among the crowd was Martin Crane, a
+trifle unsteady of legs. They moved in close and watched Big Jim get
+to his feet unassisted.
+
+He was so badly dazed that he did not seem to realize what had happened.
+As he straightened up to his full height, Bill Smith shot forward,
+starting another punch at the big man’s jaw; but Slim blocked him.
+
+“Hol’ fast, Bill,” he grunted. “He’s licked.”
+
+“Let ’im go to it,” gurgled Crane. “I dunno whazzit’s all about--but let
+’im go to it, Slimmie.”
+
+Big Jim felt of his jaw and stepped back against the doorway. Things
+were clearing for him now and he realized that Bill Smith had knocked
+him down. He looked curiously at Bill Smith, trying to figure out why
+Bill Smith had hit him.
+
+The blow had sapped his strength badly, and he wanted to sit down. Every
+one seemed to be waiting for Bill Smith or Big Jim to speak. Then Bill
+Smith glanced at the crowd around him and spoke directly to Big Jim.
+
+“I’ll tell yuh why I hit yuh, Mott. Tex Rowland is my best friend--and
+the girl you accuse of stealin’ from yuh is the girl he loves. You let
+her alone or Tex Rowland will kill yuh. Now that ain’t no threat--it’s
+a promise.”
+
+Bill Smith turned and walked on up the street. Big Jim blinked
+painfully, turned around and went into the bank without saying a word
+to any one. The crowd watched him disappear inside and then went back
+up the street.
+
+Slim, Martin Crane and the sheriff walked along together and joined
+Bill Smith in the Fashion saloon. The sheriff held out his hand to
+Bill Smith, a grin on his lips, as he said:
+
+“Bill Smith, I’m the sheriff of this county and I hadn’t ought to act
+like this; but I’d like to shake hands with yuh. I wish I had a friend
+that would do a thing like that for me, if I was in Tex Rowland’s place.
+I hope Tex appreciates it.”
+
+“Yeah, I reckon he does,” smiled Bill, as they shook hands.
+
+They had a round of drinks, after which Slim persuaded Crane that they
+should go back to the ranch. Crane was pretty drunk, but he acquiesced.
+Big Jim watched them ride out of town, squinting one eye speculatively,
+as if trying to make a decision.
+
+Then he left the bank and walked down to the depot, which was about
+three blocks away. He asked the sleepy-eyed operator for a telegram
+blank, on which he wrote:
+
+    Warden, Elk Lodge Penitentiary.
+
+    Indications point to fact that Tex Rowland is hiding
+    in this vicinity. Might be worth investigating.
+
+                                     (Signed) Jim Mott.
+
+“Send this right away, will you?” he asked the operator.
+
+“Y’betcha,” nodded the operator, turning to his instrument.
+
+Big Jim walked outside, ripped a match savagely along the side of the
+depot and lighted his cigar.
+
+“Friend of Tex Rowland, eh? Well, maybe you’ll be bait for us to find
+your dear friend. And next time I’ll be looking for you, Bill Smith.”
+
+He strode along a few steps, puffing savagely, and an idea seemed to
+strike him.
+
+“It’s a ten-to-one shot that Tex is in Rainbow Valley,” he declared to
+himself. “Old Rory would protect him. I’d like to see that old ----’s
+face, when Della tells him she’s a thief.”
+
+It seemed to amuse him so much that he went back into the bank, his face
+wreathed with smiles. The cashier glanced at Big Jim as he disappeared
+into his private office.
+
+“Lost a thousand dollars and got knocked down,” mused the cashier,
+“and acts happy over it all. Sure takes all kinds of folks to make up
+a world.”
+
+
+
+
+                                   VII
+
+
+The following day Crane realized that he had made a sort of a fool out
+of himself, and that Big Jim might fire him. So he decided to go to
+Antelope at once and make his peace with the man who was paying him to
+run the XO-Bar-5.
+
+Slim decided to go, too. He asked Bill Smith if he wanted to ride down
+with them, but Bill declined. As soon as they rode away, Bill saddled
+his horse and rode toward Rainbow Valley. He was curious to know what
+old Rory McPherson thought about Big Jim’s accusations, and he also
+wanted to see Della.
+
+The RMP ranch had been home to Bill Smith. He knew every clump of trees,
+every twisting of the stream in Rainbow Valley. Yet he was a stranger in
+the place. He rode in past the big barns and up to the old ranch-house,
+sprawled under the shade of some giant sycamores which had been planted
+there when the first McPherson came to Rainbow.
+
+A huge figure of a dog, half-mastiff, half-Dane, uncoiled itself from a
+spot near the kitchen door and came toward him, its head lowered, a deep
+rumble in its throat. Bill Smith grinned and swung out of his saddle.
+
+“Pancho,” he said softly, “Pancho, do you know me?”
+
+The great dog stopped and looked at him. Its eyes were a steel-blue in
+color, heavily-pouched. Its nostrils worked violently, as it caught
+the scent of a man it had known so well. Then, with a little rumble of
+delight, it came straight to Bill Smith, fawning upon him with its
+great paws, trying to lick his hands.
+
+“You knew me, Pancho,” whispered Bill Smith. “You knew old Tex.”
+
+He looked up quickly. On the porch stood old Rory McPherson and Della, a
+look of astonishment on their faces.
+
+“Why, it’s Mr. Smith!” exclaimed Della. “And a ver-r-y rare young man,”
+added old Rory. “Old Pancho does not take to str-r-rangers, sir.”
+
+“I can’t quite understand Pancho,” said Della. “Look at him, Uncle
+Rory.”
+
+The big dog continued to manifest the greatest of joy. He had been used
+to romping with Tex Rowland every day, and this scent brought back joy
+memories to him. Faces meant nothing to him; but a voice and a scent
+did.
+
+“Aye, lass; and it’s uncanny,” replied old Rory, coming down the steps
+to meet Bill Smith.
+
+He held out his hand and did not wait for an introduction.
+
+“I’d take the dog’s wor-r-rd for ye, sir,” said the old man, as they
+shook hands. “Ye can’t fool dogs and children. We grow up and lose
+that intuition. Will ye not come and sit on the por-rch? Della?”
+
+He turned his head and looked back, but Della had slipped into the
+house.
+
+“Anyway,” he said, turning back, “ye’ll sit with me, eh?”
+
+Bill Smith accepted a seat on the porch and rolled a cigaret.
+
+“Ye are a str-r-ranger, are ye not?” asked the old man. “I have never
+seen ye before.”
+
+Bill Smith nodded.
+
+“Yeah, I reckon I am, Mr. McPherson. I work for the XO-Bar-5.”
+
+“Ye do, eh?”
+
+The old man was on the defensive at once.
+
+“Ye work for Jim Mott, do ye?”
+
+“I did,” smiled Bill, as he examined his knuckles.
+
+Luckily the blow had landed square, leaving only a slight soreness.
+
+“And do ye not now, Mr. Smith?”
+
+“I don’t know. I belted Big Jim in the jaw yesterday, and he was too
+tired to fire me at that time. Crane went to Antelope today, and Big
+Jim will probably send my time out to me by him.”
+
+“Ye str-r-ruck him, ye mean?” demanded the old man eagerly. “Ye did? And
+ye brought him down?”
+
+Bill Smith nodded slowly.
+
+“Wonders will never cease,” said the old man softly. “Ye--” he squinted
+at Bill Smith closely--“ye are a chunk of a lad. Ye have the arms and
+chest of a man I know, and I’ve no doubt that ye jarred Mr. Mott. And
+did ye have a r-r-reason for comin’ here, or did ye just dr-r-rop in?”
+
+“I came to see Miss Marsh.”
+
+The old man regarded him steadily, glanced back toward the door and
+moved in closer to Bill Smith.
+
+“Do ye know what happened yesterday in Antelope?”
+
+“Yeah. I was there and I sure heard about it.”
+
+“Tell me about it, will ye?”
+
+“I’ll tell yuh what I know about it, Mr. McPherson.”
+
+And in as few words as possible Bill Smith told the old man all he knew
+about the missing money and the accusation against Della. The old man’s
+bony hands gripped the arms of his chair, and his face grew white with
+wrath before Smith had finished his tale.
+
+“Ye ar-re tellin’ me true, lad?” he panted. “This is not a fair-rry tale
+ye tell me?”
+
+“Say, didn’t yuh know about this?” demanded Smith. “Didn’t she----”
+
+“----, no! I knew there was somethin’ wr-r-r-rong, but--oh, the poor
+lass!”
+
+The old man got unsteadily to his feet, panting with combined wrath and
+pity. As he turned toward the door, Della came out and up to him. She
+had been crying. He put his hands on her shoulders and they stared into
+each other’s faces.
+
+“I heard him tell you,” she said firmly. “I wanted to tell you, Uncle
+Rory; but I--I just couldn’t. It’s a lie--all a lie. I never took the
+money.”
+
+The old man laughed fiercely, gripping her shoulders until she winced
+from the pain.
+
+“A lie!” he fairly shouted. “Of course it’s a lie!”
+
+He whirled on Bill Smith, fairly shaking his bony fist under the
+cowpuncher’s nose.
+
+“Do ye think it’s true? Do ye think----”
+
+“If I did,” said Smith calmly, “I wouldn’t ’a’ smashed him in the jaw
+yesterday.”
+
+“Oh, aye.”
+
+He gripped a porch-post fiercely and looked down the valley, his old
+eyes blood-shot with emotion.
+
+“And he told the sher-r-riff to arrest her, did he?”
+
+“Yeah. But she pulled out ahead of ’em.”
+
+Old Rory turned and stared at Della. His face softened and he put a hand
+on her shoulder.
+
+“They’d put ye in jail, lass? He’d drag your name in the dirt, would
+he?”
+
+He turned suddenly and stared at Bill Smith.
+
+“And what inter-r-rest have ye in this, sir?” he demanded.
+
+“Tex Rowland was my best friend.”
+
+Old Rory moved a pace or two nearer to Bill Smith, looking at him
+closely. Della was staring at him, wide-eyed, too.
+
+“Ye were Tex Rowland’s friend?”
+
+“We were closer than twin brothers,” said Bill Smith.
+
+“Aye, is that so? Years ago, per-r-r-haps?”
+
+“No--just a while ago.”
+
+“But Tex lived here for years and you--” the old man hesitated and
+lowered his voice--“you wasn’t in--in there with him?”
+
+Bill Smith nodded slowly.
+
+“Oh, yes!”
+
+Old Rory straightened up with a sigh.
+
+“Do you know where he is now?” asked Della, almost whispering the
+question.
+
+“Yeah, I know where he is but I can’t tell yuh now. Tex is hidin’ out
+where they won’t find him. He don’t need money, Miss Marsh.”
+
+“And he’s alive?”
+
+“Y’betcha.”
+
+“Thank God for that.”
+
+She smiled through her tears. It was worth a lot for her to know that
+Tex was safe and that he did not want for money. She was willing to
+bide her time now.
+
+“I’ll go to Antelope tomorrow,” said the old man slowly, thoughtfully,
+“and I’ll kill Big Jim Mott.”
+
+“That wouldn’t do no good,” said Bill Smith quickly. “They’d hang you,
+tha’s-all. And your hangin’ wouldn’t clear up that stolen thousand
+dollars, don’tcha see?”
+
+“Why, Uncle Rory, you mustn’t talk like that,” said Della. “He told me
+that he wanted to break your heart.”
+
+“He told you that, lass?”
+
+“Yes. It was after I demanded an investigation. He got mad and said
+things that he didn’t intend to.”
+
+“He didn’t want to investigate?” asked Bill Smith.
+
+“No. He wanted to forget it all, he said.”
+
+Bill Smith was rolling a cigaret and now he lifted his head and looked
+straight at her.
+
+“Wanted to forget it, eh? And what was the price?”
+
+Della stared at him for a moment, but her cheeks flushed crimson and she
+turned away, going quickly into the house. Bill and the old man looked
+at each other for several moments. Old Rory was not quick to comprehend
+such things, but he gradually digested it. Then he struck the porch-post
+with the side of his clenched hand and swore bitterly.
+
+“He’d try to buy her for a thousand dollars,” he said hoarsely. “That
+price for a McPherson! By ----, I’ll show him what the pr-r-rice will
+be.”
+
+“And if the sheriff comes to arrest her--don’t quarrel with him,”
+advised Bill Smith. “He’s all right. It’s a bailable offense, and yuh
+can see that she don’t stay in jail.”
+
+“Aye, that’s good advice, lad; and I thank ye for it.”
+
+Bill Smith got to his feet and held out his hand.
+
+“I reckon I’ll be siftin’ along, old timer,” he grinned. “I’ve enjoyed
+the visit with yuh. You tell the little lady good-by for me, will yuh?”
+
+“But won’t ye stay, lad? There’s room for ye.”
+
+“There’s Tex Rowland to look after,” whispered Bill Smith.
+
+“Oh, aye. Then be on your way, and God bless ye. Come soon.”
+
+Bill Smith swung on to his horse, and rode slowly down the old highway
+toward Antelope with a determined smile on his lips. Pancho, the big,
+blue dog, followed him to the corner of the fence and watched him
+disappear around a bend in the road, while old Rory leaned against the
+post and looked moodily out across the Rainbow hills.
+
+“Bill Smith,” he muttered softly. “Now, who in the ---- are ye, lad? Ye
+have a fine face, and even old Pancho--now that beats anything I’ve ever
+seen. He hates strangers, but he almost wore out his paws on Bill Smith.
+There’s queer things in the wor-rld.”
+
+Della had come back to the doorway and was looking down the valley. Old
+Rory turned and looked at her.
+
+“He’s gone. Pancho followed him to the cor-r-rner, lass.”
+
+“Then he must be all right,” she said simply.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Contrary to Bill Smith’s expectations, Big Jim Mott did not tell Crane
+to fire him. Not that Bill Smith cared in the least, except that he
+liked both Crane and Slim Whelan, and his job on the XO-Bar-5 kept him
+at a point about midway of the warring factions.
+
+It was two uneventful days after Bill Smith’s visit to Rory McPherson’s
+ranch in Rainbow Valley, that he and Slim rode to Antelope town. There
+had been no work to do at the XO-Bar-5, and they were both tired of
+inaction.
+
+Big Jim Mott rode into town half an hour after their arrival and met
+them in the Fashion Bar. Bill half-expected that Big Jim would try to
+even matters with him on sight, and was not prepared for Big Jim’s
+hearty invitation to have a drink.
+
+“How are things at the ranch?” he asked, as they filled their glasses.
+
+“Kinda slow,” admitted Slim. “We just kinda foller each other around,
+hopin’ that somebody will discover somethin’ to do.”
+
+Big Jim laughed and tossed off his drink. He was in rare good humor and
+seemed to hold no grudge against Bill Smith for the knock-down; but Bill
+Smith did not relax his caution. Finally Big Jim turned to him--
+
+“Smith, I’ve got a better job for you, if you care to take it.”
+
+“Tha’sso?”
+
+Bill slid his empty glass down the bar.
+
+“Hundred a month,” stated Big Jim.
+
+“Yeah?” Bill Smith was interested. The XO-Bar-5 was paying him forty
+dollars per month, and this added sixty dollars was worth considering.
+
+“Taking charge of the Lightning ranch,” he said slowly. “I’ll give you
+two punchers to help you run the place. It will take quite a lot of work
+to put the house in shape, I suppose.”
+
+“Uh-huh,” nodded Bill, “I reckon it will.”
+
+“The Lightnin’?” queried Slim wonderingly. “The Paint Pot?”
+
+Big Jim smiled and turned back to the bar, motioning to the bartender to
+fill the glasses.
+
+“Yes, I bought Pablo out yesterday,” he stated. “He had some stock I
+wanted, but he was too hard to do business with; so I made him a good
+offer for the whole works and he sold out.”
+
+“Well, I’ll be darned!” grunted Slim. “I’ll betcha yuh had to show him
+all the money in one pile, didn’t yuh?”
+
+“Something like that, Slim.”
+
+“When do yuh take charge?” asked Bill.
+
+“Took it over yesterday. There’s nobody running the place yet, but it’s
+ready for you to start in on right away.”
+
+Bill Smith considered the proposition. He did not trust Big Jim. He had
+knocked Big Jim down publicly, and Big Jim was not the kind of a man to
+forget it. Still he was not in a position to refuse the offer; so he
+nodded slowly.
+
+“I’ll take yuh up on that,” he agreed. “I’ve always wanted to run a
+ranch. Do I pick my own punchers?”
+
+“I suppose so. Mike John and Mose Dickey are still out there. They’re
+good punchers, but rather shy on brains. You might keep them until you
+find better ones. Might be a good scheme to go out there and look the
+place over, Smith. It’ll need a lot of fixing. When you find out what
+you need, come down to the bank and draw money enough to cover it.”
+
+“All right,” grinned Bill. “I never had a bank to draw on; so yuh better
+warn the cashier to look out for me.”
+
+Slim and Bill stood for a long time at the bar after Big Jim had gone
+away. Slim was wondering why Big Jim had given the foremanship of the
+Lightning to Bill Smith instead of to him; and Bill Smith was doing
+quite a bit of wondering himself.
+
+“Mebbe he wants to keep track of me,” mused Bill to himself. “It ain’t
+’cause he loves me, that’s a cinch.”
+
+Finally Slim grinned and held out his hand.
+
+“I’m plumb glad yuh got the job, Bill,” he said sincerely. “I was
+wonderin’ why he didn’t give it to me, especially after yuh batted him
+in the jaw the other day; but that’s his business. Let’s have another
+drink.”
+
+“I’m wonderin’, too, Slim,” smiled Bill, accepting the invitation. “I
+reckon he’s stuck on my shape. He don’t know whether I’m capable of
+runnin’ the place, nor whether I’m honest nor anythin’.”
+
+Slim laughed and wiped his lips with the back of his hand:
+
+“I’ll play yuh a game of pool, Bill. I ain’t played since last year, but
+I used to be a dinger.”
+
+They walked over to the pool table and were chalking their cues when
+a man came into the saloon, with two dogs on leash. The man was well
+dressed and evidently more than half-intoxicated.
+
+“What kind of danged dogs are them?” queried Slim, pointing at them with
+his cue. “Ain’t fox-hounds, are they, Bill?”
+
+“Bloodhounds,” said the man proudly, but thickly, as he tried to
+untangle the leash from his knees.
+
+“Best pair of trailers in the world, tha’s what they are.”
+
+“You ain’t lost nothin’, have yuh?” asked Slim seriously.
+
+“Huh?”
+
+“I said we might have a hard Winter,” replied Slim loudly.
+
+“What the ---- do I care about Winter? Let’s have a drink.”
+
+Slim and Bill placed their cues on the table and walked back to the
+bar. Bill stooped down and petted one of the dogs on its head. They
+both fawned around him until yanked away by their keeper.
+
+“Don’t monkey with ’em,” he grunted. “They’re worth lots of money,
+don’tcha know it?”
+
+“Pettin’ ’em takes away their value, eh?” asked Bill.
+
+The man was too occupied with his drink to answer.
+
+“How long yuh been here?” asked Slim.
+
+“Come in thish mornin’.”
+
+The man twisted his face from the bite of the whisky and leaned both
+elbows on the bar.
+
+“Dogs drag yuh in?” queried Bill.
+
+“Dogs drag--shay, whatcha talkin’ ’bout, hey?”
+
+“Dogs--not hay. Let’s have another.”
+
+“Aw ri’. Thish is re’l nice town around here. I like it.”
+
+“You can have it,” replied Slim seriously.
+
+“I’ll take it, frien’. Mush obliged.”
+
+“Oh, don’t mention it. We’ll give it to him, won’t we, Bill?”
+
+“Give him the whole county, Slim,” grinned Bill. “Don’t be a piker.”
+
+“All right, the whole county it is. You’ll take it, won’t yuh, Mister
+Blood Hound?”
+
+“Yesshir. M’ name’s Alfred Henderson Failing.”
+
+“You’ve got quite a family tree,” observed Bill, but his meaning was
+lost upon the man with the bloodhounds.
+
+A man came in through the doorway and halted near the bar. Bill Smith
+turned his head and looked square into the face of McHague, head warden
+of the Elk Lodge penitentiary. Their glances held for a moment, but
+there was no recognition in the eyes of the warden.
+
+He was wearing a gray-checked suit, black derby hat and a pair of
+glaring, yellow shoes, which creaked with every movement of his beefy
+body. The butt of a badly-chewed cigar was clenched between his teeth,
+a trickle of its juice making a brown streak down his slightly stubbled
+chin.
+
+Bill Smith felt a thrill down his spine as he squinted at McHague; but
+the big warden knew him not.
+
+“What the ---- are you doin’ here with them dogs?” snarled McHague at
+Alfred Henderson Failing, who was trying to brace himself and try to
+look dignified.
+
+He swallowed with difficulty and squinted down at the two hounds, as if
+trying to figure out a reasonable explanation.
+
+“You’re drunk!” snorted McHague angrily. “Now you get to ---- back to
+the hotel with them dogs, you drunken bum!”
+
+“Yesshir.”
+
+Failing tried to appear at ease and untangle the dogs at the same time.
+He even essayed a whistling solo, much to the disgust of McHague. After
+much effort he managed to straighten out both leashes and went out
+through the front door, half-falling from the pull of the two hounds.
+
+McHague watched him go and then turned to those at the bar.
+
+“Have a drink, gents?” he asked.
+
+Slim and Bill leaned against the bar, watching McHague unroll some
+bills.
+
+“Val’able dogs?” asked Slim.
+
+“Couldn’t buy ’em for a thousand apiece,” grunted McHague.
+
+“My----!” exploded Slim, “I’ve got to look at ’em agin’. Was they set
+with diamonds?”
+
+“Good rabbit-dogs come high,” offered Bill Smith seriously.
+
+McHague tossed a bill onto the bar and spat out his cigar, as if
+disgusted with their ignorance.
+
+“What the ---- are you talkin’ about?” he grunted. “Them ain’t
+rabbit-dogs.”
+
+“Ex-cuse us,” said Slim quickly, “we’re ignorant enough to ask yuh what
+they are, mister.”
+
+“They’re the best pair of bloodhounds in the West. They never lose a
+scent.”
+
+“Bloodhounds?” queried Bill. “Man trailers?”
+
+“You betcha. Finest bred dogs in the world. They belong to me.”
+
+“You kinda hate them dogs, don’tcha?” grinned Bill. “They don’t look
+like much, except that they’re sad in the face.”
+
+“You’d be sad, if they were on your trail,” replied McHague.
+
+“I s’pose so. Say, your face is familiar, somehow. Seems like I’ve
+knowed you some place.”
+
+McHague tossed off his drink and grinned widely.
+
+“Maybe you have. I’m the head warden at Elk Lodge.”
+
+Slim choked on his drink and it was some time before conversation was
+renewed.
+
+“You say that them dogs never lose a scent?” queried Bill.
+
+“That’s what I said,” replied McHague proudly.
+
+“Uh-huh. Then they’re the ones yuh used when yuh caught Tex Rowland,
+ain’t they?”
+
+McHague flushed angrily.
+
+“What do you know about Tex Rowland?”
+
+“He’s my best friend,” said Bill Smith softly.
+
+“The ---- he is?”
+
+McHague’s hands clenched and his brows drew down slightly over his eyes.
+
+“Your best friend, eh?”
+
+Bill Smith nodded slowly and moved a trifle away from the bar.
+
+“Yeah, that’s what I said, McHague.”
+
+“You seem to know my name.”
+
+“I know more than that about yuh.”
+
+“What do yuh mean?”
+
+“Tex told me a few things, McHague. He told me about yuh stealin’
+his letters, and how yuh bragged to him about it. Yuh had him where
+he couldn’t get away, didn’t yuh? He didn’t have a Chinaman’s chance
+to do anythin’. Yuh framed to kill him, too. Yuh tried to force him
+to start trouble, so your hired murderer could shoot him down. But
+he double-crossed yuh, McHague--him and the old trusty.”
+
+McHague’s scowl almost concealed his eyes before Bill Smith had finished
+his accusation. His lips were shut in a thin, white line, below which
+jutted his undershot jaw like the prow of a fighting ship.
+
+“Where in -- did you get all that?” he gritted.
+
+“From Tex Rowland. And by ----, he told the truth!”
+
+“He lied!” snorted McHague.
+
+“He did not! You forced him into a fight, McHague--and he whipped you in
+your own office, you dirty coyote!”
+
+Bill Smith had not intended going so far with the accusation, but his
+soul was still bitter against McHague and he forgot all caution.
+
+“Who’s a dirty coyote?” snorted McHague.
+
+And as McHague snapped his question, his right hand reached back under
+his coat and whipped out a revolver. But Slim was looking for just such
+a move, and, before McHague could level the gun, Slim grasped his wrist
+with both hands, twisting so quickly that the gun went spinning across
+the floor.
+
+Slim sprang back, leaving McHague cursing wickedly, his shoulders
+hunched as he faced Bill Smith.
+
+“What kind of a ---- deal is that?” he demanded. “You going to
+double-team me? You’ve still got a gun.”
+
+Bill grinned, as he flipped out his gun and placed it on the bar.
+
+“I better put it away before somebody takes it away from me,” he said.
+
+McHague glanced at the bar and back at Bill Smith. Down deep in his
+heart he did not want to fight. He had been warned that this country
+was friendly to Tex Rowland, but this seemed to be carrying friendship
+too far.
+
+There were a number of men in the saloon, and now they swarmed to
+vantage points. The bartender, in no uncertain terms, swore at everybody
+concerned, and threatened to make them pay for every bit of damage done.
+His warnings fell upon deaf ears, whereupon he changed his attitude and
+offered to bet odds on McHague.
+
+The first blow had not been struck when Big Jim Mott came in. He took in
+the situation at a glance and shoved his huge bulk between them.
+
+“Here, here!” he grunted. “What the ---- is going on? What’s all the
+trouble about, Smith?”
+
+“Ask McHague,” grinned Bill. “He tried to fire the first shot.”
+
+“Oh, ----, the party’s ruined!” wailed Slim.
+
+He crossed the room, picked up McHague’s gun and gave it to him. McHague
+shoved it down in his pocket, glared balefully at Bill Smith and strode
+out of the saloon.
+
+After a moment’s indecision Big Jim turned and followed him outside,
+catching up with him half-way across the street.
+
+“That’s Tex Rowland’s friend,” said Big Jim. “He’s the one I told you
+about, Mac.”
+
+“----, don’t I know it?” snarled McHague. “That’s what it was all about.
+I’ll shoot the liver out of him if he monkeys with me.”
+
+“Well, you better do it from ambush,” advised Big Jim. “He’s got the
+punch of an army mule, and he don’t wear that gun as a decoration.”
+
+“The other one took my gun away from me.”
+
+“Then you better thank him the first chance you get, because he probably
+saved your life.”
+
+“These ---- cowpunchers can’t run no sandy on me, Mott.”
+
+“All right, Mac.”
+
+“You’re ---- right, it’s all right!”
+
+McHague turned away and went into the hotel. Big Jim looked after him,
+a scowl on his face. Then he turned and went diagonally down the street
+toward the bank.
+
+Over in the saloon Slim leaned back against the bar, roweling a spur
+thoughtfully against the rail, while Bill Smith faced the bar, as he
+rolled a cigaret.
+
+“That’s what I call stickin’ up for a friend,” said Slim thoughtfully.
+“I helped send him over the road. ----, there wasn’t nothin’ else I
+could do, under the circumstances. I s’pose he’s got them there
+bloodhounds over here to try and nose out old Tex, eh?”
+
+“Looks like it, Slim.”
+
+“Uh-huh. Thousand dollars apiece, eh? Well, I ain’t got nothin’ again’
+them flappy-eared, sad-eyed pups, but, by the horns on the moon, they
+better not start snifflin’ around too much.”
+
+“They won’t do much,” said Bill softly. “Let’s me and you ride out to
+the Paint Pot and see how much disinfectant the danged old place needs.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+They went out to the hitch-rack, mounted their horses and rode away.
+Bill Smith was not very optimistic over his new job. He did not like
+the idea of retaining Mike John and Mose Dickey, the two half-breeds.
+In fact, he did not like the idea of going to work for Big Jim as a
+manager.
+
+“Well, that gives Big Jim control of every ranch in the Antelope,”
+declared Slim. “The Paint Pot was the last one to fall. If he could
+buy out Rainbow Valley, he’d have some range, Bill.”
+
+“He’ll never get that place,” declared Bill. “McPherson would rather die
+than to see Big Jim own Rainbow.”
+
+They were opposite the XO-Bar-5 and almost to the forks, where one
+road led to Rainbow Valley and the other to the Paint Pot, when they
+met Lohman, the sheriff, Biddy Toole and Dick Clarey, riding furiously
+toward town.
+
+They drew up in a cloud of dust.
+
+“What’s all the rush?” asked Slim, as the three lathering horses danced
+nervously from their run.
+
+“Old Rory has been shot and badly hurt,” explained the sheriff, trying
+to hold his horse on the road.
+
+“Old Rory McPherson?” blurted Bill Smith. “How did it happen?”
+
+“We don’t know,” Lohman swore at his horse, pulling it around against
+Biddy Toole’s horse. “Old Rory and his daughter were at Welcome all
+night. You know about Big Jim demanding her arrest, don’t yuh?”
+
+“Well, they came in and stayed all night. Old Rory put up her bond and
+they started back this mornin’. About two hours later I got a wire
+from Antelope to come down and join forces with some officers from the
+penitentiary; and I finds old Rory on the road.
+
+“He’s been shot through the body and is in pretty bad shape. We fixed
+him up as much as possible and we’re after a doctor right now.”
+
+“But what about Della?” asked Slim anxiously. “Didn’t she----”
+
+“That’s what we don’t know,” said Biddy helplessly. “She ain’t never
+come home.”
+
+“And she wouldn’t go away and leave the old man,” added Dick.
+
+“It’s a ---- or a mixup somewhere,” declared Lohman. “And it looks to me
+like whoever shot the old man took her along with ’em.”
+
+“Nobody would dare to do that,” declared Bill Smith thickly.
+
+“Wouldn’t they?” Thus Dick Clarey bitterly. “Don’t fool yourself,
+stranger. C’mon, Lohman.”
+
+They spurred on, leaving Slim and Bill staring after them.
+
+Bill turned in his saddle, staring blindly up the road, trying to figure
+out just what to do; trying to realize that some one had stolen Della
+Marsh.
+
+Far off to the west were the broken heights of the Wild Horse Range,
+showing almost black in the sunlight. Bill Smith knew those mountains;
+knew them better than any one in the country. There were few trails,
+and much of it was impassable.
+
+Beyond the mesas lived the wild goat and big-horn sheep. Bill Smith,
+when he was Tex Rowland, hunted them on the rocky ledges above the
+purple chasms, and he knew that there were places in those cliffs
+where one man could stand off an army.
+
+“That’s where she’d be,” said Slim, answering Bill’s unspoken question.
+“The ---- himself couldn’t track anybody there.”
+
+“I know it, Slim. C’m’on.”
+
+Bill spurred ahead and Slim swung in behind him, wondering where Bill
+was going. Straight to the Paint Pot ranch they went, with both horses
+almost collapsing as they drew up at the front of the ranch-house.
+
+Mike John came out to them, his wide face and black eyes expressionless,
+although a trifle suspicious of their speedy arrival.
+
+“Where’s Pablo?” asked Bill.
+
+Mike John squinted thoughtfully and shook his head.
+
+“Pablo gone.”
+
+“Where’s Mose Dickey?”
+
+“Down by corral.”
+
+“Where’s Pokey?”
+
+“Go with Pablo.”
+
+“Uh-huh,” Bill glanced around quickly. “When did Pablo and Pokey leave
+here?”
+
+“Yes’day. No come back, I s’pose.”
+
+“You suppose not, eh? Where did they go?”
+
+“Long way, I s’pose.”
+
+“All right. I’m new boss here, Mike.”
+
+Mike grinned slightly. Then he spat and nodded.
+
+“All right,” he said. “I don’ give----”
+
+Mose Dickey came waddling up from the corral and joined them. His face
+was as expressionless as Mike John’s, but he grinned when the two
+cowpunchers spoke pleasantly to him.
+
+“Did you hear the quarrel between Pablo and Big Jim?” asked Bill,
+suddenly inspired with an idea.
+
+The two breeds exchanged quick glances.
+
+“Big Jim told me that Pablo was a thief,” said Bill easily. “I don’t
+think Pablo is a thief. Big Jim awful mad at Pablo. He says Pablo no
+good.”
+
+“Um-m-m!” Mike John rumbled throatily. “Big Jim ---- fool!”
+
+“That’s what I said,” nodded Bill.
+
+Slim’s long nose was twitching and he wanted to laugh. He did not know
+what it was all about, but was willing to swear that Bill Smith was
+right.
+
+“Yeah, he sure is,” agreed Bill heartily. “He tell me that he send Pablo
+to the prison--mebbe.”
+
+“By ----, no!” exclaimed Mose Dickey angrily.
+
+“You know how much he pay Pablo?” asked Bill. “Big Jim say he give Pablo
+much money--much gold.”
+
+“---- lie!” snorted Mike. “Big Jim want all money for himself. He no pay
+Pablo. By ----, no! He tell Pablo, you go to ---- away from here. Bimeby
+somebody put you in jail long time.”
+
+“He told Pablo that?” asked Bill.
+
+“Um-m-m. Big Jim two-tongue. He lie to Pablo.”
+
+“Uh-huh!”
+
+Bill rolled a cigaret slowly. He was learning a lot from the angry
+half-breeds, without them suspecting that he was pumping them for
+information. He lighted his cigaret, inhaled deeply and handed the
+tobacco and papers to Mike John.
+
+“Mike John, do you know who killed Tucson Charley?” asked Bill Smith.
+
+Mike’s eyes lifted from the cigaret-making and bored into those of Bill
+Smith.
+
+“No,” he said softly. “By ----, I like to know.”
+
+“No horse kill Tucson Charley,” said Mose Dickey. “You go look Tucson
+Charley; you look at pinto hoof. You know. We see you. Pablo say you
+look see. What you find out?”
+
+“Didn’t a horse kill Tucson Charley?” asked Slim.
+
+“No, Slim. That pinto was barefooted. Tucson Charley might have been
+kicked by a sharp-shod horse, but not by a clean hoof. A barefooted
+horse could kill a man, but couldn’t leave a wound like that. It
+looked to me like it had been done with a six-gun barrel, or some
+heavy instrument.”
+
+“I seeum,” said Mike John. “Too much cut for bare hoof. That pintado no
+kick. Broke plenty. I see you throw hat--horse no kick.”
+
+“That’s right,” smiled Bill. “And if that pinto was a kicker he’d ’a’
+kicked Tucson more than once.”
+
+“But who in ---- would kill him?” queried Slim. “Tucson never done
+anything to anybody.”
+
+“Tucson good boy,” nodded Mose Dickey sadly. “He goin’ marry Alice
+Spotted Horse. Now can’t do.”
+
+“Not very well,” admitted Bill dryly. “You remember the day Tucson was
+killed?”
+
+“---- right!” grunted Mike John. “Pablo and Tucson go to Antelope. Pablo
+go get money from Big Jim. Pablo pay Tucson in Antelope. Pablo come home
+bimeby. Nex’ day Tucson come home dead.”
+
+“That’s how it was, eh?”
+
+Bill grew thoughtful. There was not much of a clue in that.
+
+“What Big Jim’s girl do here that day?” queried Mose.
+
+“Is she Big Jim’s girl?” asked Slim.
+
+“---- right. Big Jim marry her--mebbe.”
+
+“Mebbe,” grinned Bill Smith.
+
+“Why she come?” persisted Mose.
+
+“You remember Tex Rowland?” asked Bill.
+
+“---- right!”
+
+“All right.”
+
+Bill squatted on his heels and drew out his tobacco. The others squatted
+with him and watched his fingers as he deftly rolled a cigarette and
+handed the sack around the circle. Then:
+
+“Tex Rowland write letter to that girl. You _sabe_?”
+
+The two breeds nodded quickly.
+
+“Tex Rowland give letter to Tucson Charley and tell him to give to girl.
+Tucson give letter to girl; _sabe_? She write on same letter and give
+back to Tucson Charley. She tell him to give it to Tex Rowland. Tucson
+Charley put letter in pocket. Then he drink too much and somebody kill
+him. Letter gone. That’s what girl was out here to get. She wanted the
+letter. Now you _sabe_?”
+
+“Somebody take letter?” queried Mike John.
+
+“Yeah!”
+
+“Tex Rowland give Tucson Charley letter? Tex Rowland in town?”
+
+Bill laughed softly--
+
+“Looks like it, Mike.”
+
+“You think Tex Rowland kill Tucson Charley?”
+
+“No, I don’t think so.”
+
+“Um-m-m.”
+
+Mike John inhaled deeply, letting the smoke curl slowly out of his wide
+nostrils. Then--
+
+“If Tex Rowland give Tucson Charley letter--Tex Rowland kill Tucson
+Charley, so Tucson no tell where Tex hide.”
+
+“By ----, that so!” Mose said explosively.
+
+Bill got to his feet, a grin on his lips.
+
+“Mike, have you got two good saddlehorses handy?”
+
+“Two ---- good pinto. You want.”
+
+“Bring ’em out, will yuh? We’ll slap our hulls on ’em, Slim. I reckon
+our broncs are about run to a frazzle.”
+
+The two breeds trotted down to the corral where several painted horses
+were dozing in the shade, while Slim and Bill yanked the saddles off
+their sweat-stained animals and let them drift away loose.
+
+“How in ---- did you know that Big Jim and Pablo had a quarrel, Bill?”
+queried Slim wonderingly.
+
+“I didn’t. Those breeds are like children, Slim. I just had a hunch that
+they might have had a quarrel, but I didn’t ask Mike and Mose if they
+had; I said they had. If I’d ’a’ ask them the question, we’d never found
+out a thing.”
+
+“Where are we goin’ now?” asked Slim.
+
+“Back to Antelope, cowboy. When I get an idea I’ve got to run it plumb
+ragged, right away, or I might forget what it was.”
+
+“All right, pardner,” grinned Slim. “Lemme in on the bloody details
+enough so I’ll _sabe_ when to yank m’ gun.”
+
+“You’ll know when I do, Slim. Here’s the spotted broncs.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The arrival of the sheriff and the two cowpunchers from the RMP caused
+plenty of excitement in Antelope. Biddy Toole shoved the doctor into a
+livery-rig, and they went out of town in a flurry of dust while the
+sheriff quickly swore in a posse to search the hills for Della Marsh.
+
+The shooting of old Rory McPherson was only a detail compared with the
+kidnapping of Della Marsh. She was well-known in Antelope, and the
+sheriff had no trouble of getting more riders than he needed to fill up
+his posse. In fact, there were several independent detachments started
+out on their own hook, impatient to put a hangman’s knot under the left
+ear of the man, or men, who would steal a woman.
+
+Big Jim was not in town, having left an hour or two previously for his
+ranch. McHague and Failing were there, but making no move to assist in
+the search. Failing was still half-drunk. The dogs had been locked in a
+store-room at the hotel, where ever and anon they lifted their voices
+in wailing lamentations.
+
+Slim and Bill met the sheriff and posse a few miles out of town, but
+only stopped long enough to ask the sheriff the exact spot where old
+Rory had been found, before galloping into town and leaving their
+horses at the Fashion hitch-rack.
+
+The town seemed deserted. There was no one, except the bartender and
+a couple of drunken old bar-flies, in the Fashion, and the bartender
+welcomed some one to talk to, bewailing the fact that he was too fat
+to straddle a horse and join the posse.
+
+Failing and McHague started to come into the place, but McHague caught
+sight of Bill Smith and changed his mind. Failing came on in and joined
+them at the bar.
+
+“Lots of excitement in the old town,” he observed. “I never seen folks
+get so excited over anythin’ in my life.”
+
+“Mebbe you ain’t lived very long,” said Bill slowly. “Anythin’ is liable
+to happen to yuh, if yuh live long enough. Are you McHague’s hired man?”
+
+“I’m employed by the prison--not by McHague.”
+
+“What’s your job around the prison?” asked Slim.
+
+“Oh, kinda general work. I take care of the dogs most of the time. I’m a
+trainer of bloodhounds. Whatcha drinkin’?”
+
+They named their choice and the conversation lagged for a while. Then
+Bill Smith got another idea:
+
+“Bloodhounds must be kinda queer critters, Failing. They ain’t noways
+savage, are they?”
+
+“Nossir. Bloodhounds are the kindest thing yuh ever seen.”
+
+“Well,” Bill laughed softly, “what’s to stop a man from just adoptin’
+one when they’re after him?”
+
+“You sure could, if they were turned loose; but we work ’em on a leash
+all the time.”
+
+“Oh, that’s the idea, eh? And they can trail anybody by just sniffin’
+somethin’ that the person has wore, can’t they?”
+
+“They sure can. Them two dogs are the best you ever seen. I’ve got ’em
+locked up in that little buildin’ back of the hotel. Can’t take a chance
+with dogs as valuable as them two. Whatcha drinkin’?”
+
+Bill winked at Slim, and when Failing was not looking they poured their
+drinks into a cuspidor. Round after round of drinks followed that one,
+until Failing became goggle-eyed and boastful. Slim and Bill became more
+sober, while the bartender spoke feelingly of ---- fools, who would pay
+good money for whisky and not drink it. But Failing did not pay any
+attention. He was having a good time.
+
+“I sure reckon that you’ve got a fine pair of dogs,” agreed Bill Smith,
+after Failing had almost exhausted his vocal cords in describing some of
+their feats.
+
+“I didn’t think so much about ’em, at the time,” he explained. “Dogs are
+just dogs to me, don’tcha know it? But after listenin’ to you, I’d sure
+like to see ’em ag’in.”
+
+“Well, ----, come on!” gurgled Failing, shoving himself away from the
+bar. “I’ll show ’em to yuh. I c’n tell yuh lo’s of things ’bout dogs.
+I’m--I’m shome dogger, y’betcha.”
+
+“Oh, that’s understood,” said Bill. “You’re a wizard. I betcha you know
+a lot more about dogs than the dogs know about themselves.”
+
+“I don’t wan’ to brag, y’understand,” explained Failing. “I’m modesht, I
+am; but--c’mon.”
+
+They followed him across the street, assisting him in keeping right side
+up. There was no sign of McHague, for which Bill was grateful. Failing
+led them to the rear of the hotel and fumbled with a key until Slim took
+it away from him and unlocked the door.
+
+The two bloodhounds proceeded to climb all over their keeper and he
+sat down in the middle of the floor, slapping weakly at them. Slim
+shut the door behind them, laughing at the drunken Failing trying to
+protect himself from the dogs.
+
+Then Failing gave it up as a bad job, stretched out on the floor and
+proceeded to snore raucously. The two dogs sat down on their haunches
+and looked sadly at him. They merely glanced at Bill, as he snapped
+the leashes on to their collars, but seemed willing to follow him.
+
+“What’s the idea?” asked Slim.
+
+“We’re goin’ to swipe these dogs, Slim. We’ll likely have to pack ’em in
+our arms when we get on our broncs.”
+
+“I getcha,” snorted Slim. “We use ’em to trail Della, eh?”
+
+Bill hesitated. There was one thing he had overlooked.
+
+“We’ve got to have somethin’ that she wore, Slim.”
+
+“By golly, that’s right, Bill! Say, she used to work at that little
+female’s hat-store just down the street, and mebbe they’ve got somethin’
+there. You wait here, while I take a look.”
+
+Slim was back in a few minutes, highly elated.
+
+“I got her old apron,” he grinned. “The little female wanted to talk
+about it, but I didn’t have time. Now what do we do?”
+
+“Get out of town. I hope to gosh that nobody sees us.”
+
+They locked the door behind them, leaving Failing snoring peacefully.
+The dogs were willing to go fast, but the two cow-punchers snubbed them
+up close and went carefully back to the street.
+
+There was no one in sight; so they hurried over to the hitch-rack and
+untied their horses. Both animals objected strenuously to having the
+bloodhounds hoisted upon them, but the two men were not concerned with
+the likes and dislikes of the two pinto horses.
+
+As they swung into their saddles some one yelled at them from down the
+street, and they turned to see McHague running toward them from the
+hotel, waving his arms.
+
+“Aw, ----!” snorted Slim, shifting the dog’s weight to his left hand and
+arm. “I s’pose I’ll have to kill this jigger.”
+
+“There’s Big Jim ridin’ in,” chuckled Bill Smith, nodding toward the
+lower end of the street. “----, we might as well have advertised our
+departure.”
+
+McHague was still coming, swearing at them for being a pair of thieves.
+The two pintos twisted and whirled around, anxious to run.
+
+_Wham!_
+
+Slim’s bullet splatted into the dust in front of McHague, and went
+_pouee-e-eing_ down the street. McHague stopped so quick that he almost
+fell on his face. Slim threw up his gun again, but McHague did not wait
+to see where the next shot would strike.
+
+He whirled and went galloping down the street, losing his hat at the
+first jump. Slim yipped softly and sent another bullet straight down
+the street, over McHague’s head. McHague gave one long leap ahead,
+ducked sidewise and fairly fell over the sidewalk into an alley.
+
+Then the two cowpunchers whirled their pinto mounts around and went
+galloping out of town, hanging on to the bloodhounds, which threatened
+to leave them at every jerk of the running horses.
+
+“Yuh missed him both shots, Slim,” yelled Bill, as they swept out
+through the hills.
+
+“Practise makes perfect,” laughed Slim joyously. “Mebbe I won’t miss him
+next time.”
+
+Big Jim lost no time in riding up to McHague, who was sitting up in the
+alley, swearing bitterly. His pants were split at the knees and both of
+his hands were filled with splinters from the old sidewalk.
+
+“They stole my hounds!” he howled at Big Jim. “That ---- friend of Tex
+Rowland’s swiped my dogs, so I couldn’t use ’em in trailin’ Tex. By ----
+I’ll send ’em both up for this.”
+
+Big Jim did not sympathize with McHague, who talked rather disjointedly
+about what he was going to do. Finally he bewailed the fact that the
+sheriff was out hunting for a kidnapper and that there was nobody to
+rescue his dogs.
+
+“What in ---- are you talking about?” demanded Big Jim.
+
+“Didn’t you hear about it?” queried McHague. “An old jigger named
+McPherson got shot and they can’t find his daughter. The whole ----
+town, including the sheriff, is huntin’ for her.”
+
+Big Jim grunted, swung off his horse and strode into the saloon, where
+he secured the rest of the information from the bartender, who was more
+than willing to tell all he knew. Big Jim’s jaw tightened as he turned
+and strode outside.
+
+McHague was waiting outside for him. Big Jim considered him for a
+moment. Then:
+
+“Go to the livery-stable and get a horse and saddle!” he barked. “Tell
+’em to give you a good horse. Ask the stable-man to lend you a pair of
+chaps, too.”
+
+McHague trotted toward the stable while Big Jim went into the bank, and
+came out in a minute carrying two rifles in scabbards. He swung on to
+his horse, rode down to the stable and helped McHague get ready. A few
+moments later they galloped out of Antelope, heading toward the northern
+part of the range.
+
+
+
+
+                                  VIII
+
+
+It was fairly late in the afternoon when Slim and Bill found the spot
+where old Rory McPherson had been shot. The sheriff and posse had been
+there judging from the horse-tracks in the dusty road. Both men were
+almost exhausted from holding the dogs in their arms.
+
+They dismounted and let the dogs sniff at Della’s old apron. Quickly
+they circled, nosing in the dust, while both men held a leash tightly.
+After a moment they worked off the side of the road, whining softly.
+
+“The trail was just about ten feet long,” said Slim sadly, as the dogs
+converged and began circling again.
+
+“She got off her horse, walked this far and got on again,” declared
+Bill. “But it looks like she went east. My ---- that’s an awful country
+to hunt anybody in.”
+
+“But she can’t ride a horse very far into the Wild Horses,” observed
+Slim hopefully. “She’ll either walk or be carried by somethin’ besides
+a horse. What’ll we do, Bill?”
+
+“Pack these ---- dogs as far as we can ride and then let ’em hunt for
+tracks. It’s goin’ to be dark before we can get very far and it looks
+like a storm.”
+
+Thunder-heads were piling up back of the Wild Horses, but were yet too
+far away for the two cowpunchers to estimate the path of the storm. They
+picked up their dogs and rode straight toward the mountains.
+
+“I’ve been up in them mountains in a storm,” said Bill, as he squinted
+narrowly at the clouds. “There’s a lot of mineral in them cliffs--iron,
+I reckon--and the way that old lightnin’ can splatter around up there is
+a caution to cats.”
+
+“You’ve been up there?” queried Slim wonderingly.
+
+Bill Smith bit his lip and shifted the weight of his dog. He had
+forgotten that Bill Smith was a stranger to that country. He glanced
+at Slim who was looking straight at him.
+
+“On the other side of the range, Slim,” he said. “They’re the same on
+both sides.”
+
+“Oh, yeah!”
+
+Slim nodded, but Bill knew that the explanation had not been
+satisfactory. Several times during that ride toward the mountains,
+Bill noticed that Slim looked curiously at him.
+
+It was almost dark when they reached the foot of the cliffs, where the
+mass of slide-rock precluded any further riding on horseback. They
+dismounted and tied the horses in a jack-pine thicket where they would
+be protected from rain and wind.
+
+“It’s a ---- of a hopeless proposition,” observed Bill sadly. “All we
+can do is to skirt the slides and hope to ---- that these million-dollar
+hounds will pick up a scent. If it rains hard they won’t be no good to
+us, ’cause rain will wash out the scent.”
+
+“Miles and miles of it, too,” said Slim hopelessly. “Mebbe we better
+give it up as a bad job, Bill.”
+
+Bill squinted at the sky which was already overcast. A rumble of thunder
+came to their ears, but from a great distance. Bill turned and held out
+his hand to Slim as he said:
+
+“Give me your dog, Slim. You stay here with the horses and wait for me
+to come back.”
+
+“You aim to go it alone, Bill?” asked Slim.
+
+“Sure.”
+
+“Uh-huh.” Slim scratched the back of his head and spat reflectively.
+“You know this girl, Bill?”
+
+“I’ve seen her. Why do yuh ask that, Slim?”
+
+“Well,” Slim shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “You ain’t stuck
+on her, are yuh, Bill?”
+
+“Mebbe,” Bill smiled softly.
+
+“Me, too,” nodded Slim. “I’ve knowed her a long time, Bill. I reckon
+I’ve--but yuh see, she’s still stuck on Tex Rowland. We ain’t got a
+ghost of a chance--we ain’t. Yo’re a good lookin’ sort of a jigger,
+Bill; but that won’t help yuh none.”
+
+Bill laughed softly and slapped Slim on the back.
+
+“We won’t cut in on Tex Rowland, will we?” queried Slim. “I want her and
+you want her, but we’ll give Tex a square deal, won’t we, Bill?”
+
+Bill Smith’s eyes softened as he looked into Slim’s honest face. Slim
+had confessed his love for Della Marsh, but was willing to stand aside
+for a man he believed to be hiding away from the law; a man he had
+helped send to prison.
+
+“I just told yuh that so yuh’d know how I stood, Bill,” said Slim
+slowly.
+
+“All right, pardner,” agreed Bill. “You’re a square-shooter and I’m with
+yuh. Now, let’s go and find her.”
+
+They gave the hounds another scent of the calico apron before they
+started off across the slide-rock, traveling north. It was hard going.
+The light grew more dim each minute and the high walls of the cliffs
+were like inky towers, reaching into the sky.
+
+The wind whipped into a gale, but as yet there was no rain. It screamed
+around the cliffs, and the night blotted out the landscape until neither
+of them was able to see the dogs which clambered over the rocks a few
+feet ahead of them, still pulling hard on their leash.
+
+High-heeled boots are hardly the proper foot-gear for rocky traveling,
+even in daylight, and both men were almost exhausted after a mile of
+slipping and sliding. The storm was nearer now, but the lightning glare
+was broken by the high cliffs which threw them in the dense shadow.
+
+Then Slim bumped into Bill and grasped him by the arm. They halted
+together, shielding their faces from the drift of rain which had just
+blown in. Another glare of lightning lighted up the world beyond them;
+a glare that held long enough for Bill to see why Slim had stopped
+him.
+
+Just beyond them, and not over a hundred yards away, was a man on a
+pinto horse riding parallel with them. They could see him humped in
+his saddle, forcing the horse against the storm.
+
+The flash faded, leaving them staring into inky blackness. For several
+moments they stood still, waiting for the next flash which showed the
+rider still going ahead. The thunder roared like the discharge of a
+mighty cannon and the rocks jarred heavily.
+
+The two cowpunchers started on; but now they swung to the left and got
+out of the slide-rock where the traveling was better, but where the
+force of the storm almost blew them off their feet.
+
+It was impossible to converse except by shouting into each other’s ears.
+The lightning did not show them the rider now, but they knew he must be
+still ahead of them; so they put down their heads and staggered on. It
+was raining harder now and they were getting drenched.
+
+Through a jack-pine thicket they forced their way, skirting the
+slide-rock, stumbling over rocks, tearing their clothes on the branches
+of down-timber. Suddenly another flash of lightning sent its blinding
+glare down across the slopes, and both men stopped short. Just a few
+feet away stood the pinto, its rump turned toward the wind and rain,
+its head hanging down.
+
+There was no sign of the rider. Bill and Slim moved close together,
+edging their way over to the pinto, which stood stock-still and let
+them make an examination.
+
+“Tied to a snag!” Bill yelled his information into Slim’s ear. “Swing to
+the right! He must ’a’ gone toward the cliffs.”
+
+They left the pinto and headed back into the land of slide-rock. The
+lightning gave them intermittent illumination, but between flashes the
+world was a vast, inky void. The rocks sloped upward, slippery with
+rain; but the two men and the dogs managed to make a certain progress,
+however painful.
+
+They halted against the side of the protecting cliffs out of the force
+of the wind and tried to take stock of their surroundings. They were
+able to carry on a conversation here. The cliffs still jarred from the
+thunder, but the storm was working its way down the slopes into
+Antelope.
+
+“Who in ---- was on that pinto?” queried Slim.
+
+“I dunno,” said Bill pantingly, “but I’ll bet he ain’t up here for
+his health. The question is: Where did he go? It’s a cinch he didn’t
+go down-hill. Let’s pesticate along here, Slim.”
+
+“All right. I’ll betcha these here dogs won’t be worth no thousand
+dollars when we get through with ’em. I’ve stepped on mine seven times.”
+
+“They’re sure as ---- a patient animal,” laughed Bill. “If I ever want
+a dog that don’t care what happens to ’em, I’ll get me a bloodhound.
+C’m’on.”
+
+Slowly they worked their way along the side of the cliff. It was
+difficult traveling, because they could not tell when a mis-step might
+drop them off into a fissure or on to a lower level. At times they were
+against the wall of rock, and at another they were forced to move away
+to circle an obstruction.
+
+They had traveled possibly fifty yards and were working their way around
+a shelf of rock, when Slim’s voice arose in anger:
+
+“C’m’on, you danged flop-eared mongrel! Where do yuh think yo’re goin’,
+anyway?”
+
+“What’s the matter with him?” yelled Bill, who was slightly in the lead.
+
+“Anchored, b’gosh! Whoa, you darned fool!”
+
+The dog was pulling back on the leash and Slim almost fell down in
+turning around on a slippery rock. Bill came back and they went up to
+the dog. The other hound whined and managed to tangle the leash around
+Bill’s legs in its eagerness to get in on the situation.
+
+“My dog’s hit a trail!” exclaimed Slim. “C’m’on, Bill!”
+
+Bill untangled the leash and the hound immediately shot in past Slim.
+
+“I wish t’ gosh I could see somethin’,” complained Slim. “I can feel
+this darned dog, but I can’t see him. I tell yuh he’s got a trail.”
+
+“Mine’s got the fever, too!” exclaimed Bill. “Go to it, pup!”
+
+Slowly they worked their way into what seemed to be a narrow passageway
+into the cliffs. At times they could feel the right-hand walls and again
+they would collide with those on the left side.
+
+The dogs swung to the right for a distance and then to the left. The
+thunder had almost died away in the distance now and there was little
+sound, except the gurgle of running water off the rocks and the scrape
+of their boots, as they wended their way into a place where neither of
+them had ever been.
+
+“It’s gettin’ wider out here,” said Slim, as they halted for a few
+moments. “I can feel it, Bill. That must ’a’ been a narrow gorge through
+there, don’tcha think?”
+
+“Sure felt like it. Is your dog doin’ any pullin’ now?”
+
+“Not so much. He sure was smellin’ somethin’ though. This must ’a’ been
+where the pinto rider came through. I’ll be danged if I like this idea
+of runnin’ blind in this place. Yuh never can tell what you’ll fall
+into. Didja ever see such a storm in your life? Honest to gosh, I got
+scared of that lightnin’.”
+
+It was dark and dismal in there now, and a cold wind began to blow
+through their wet clothes. Both of the hounds were casting about, trying
+to locate a trail which had probably been washed out in the downpour of
+rain.
+
+“We hit that trail where it was protected from the rain,” said Bill
+thoughtfully. “Now we’ve got to go by guess and by gosh.”
+
+“Looks like it,” agreed Slim wearily, sloshing in his wet boots. “I
+don’t mind goin’, if I’ve got somewhere to go.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+They were staring into the black world ahead of them when suddenly there
+appeared a tiny light. It was impossible for them to tell what it was or
+how far it was away.
+
+“Now that beats ----!” muttered Slim. “Looks like a light in a house;
+but there ain’t----!”
+
+“It went out for a moment,” interrupted Bill. “There, it’s on again.
+It’s a light in a house, Slim; and somebody walked between the light
+and us.”
+
+“But what house?” complained Slim. “There ain’t no house up here.”
+
+“There she goes!” grunted Bill.
+
+“By gosh, it is a house!” exploded Slim. “They done pulled down the
+curtain.”
+
+“It’s a house all right,” muttered Bill. “I think they put out the
+light instead of pullin’ down a curtain. Let’s see if we can find a
+place to hang up for the night. I’ve got a idea that said house
+wouldn’t be a-tall friendly to us, Slim. It’s in a place where
+honest men wouldn’t pick for a home; and the best thing we can do is
+to wait until mornin’ before doin’ a lot of investigatin’. I reckon
+it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
+
+“You sure handled my idea to a gnat’s whisker,” agreed Slim. “But I
+dunno where we’ll find a bood-wah in these rocks. My gosh, this country
+sure has been laundered to the queen’s taste.”
+
+They moved slowly on, feeling their way along, but working their way to
+the right of where they had seen the lighted window. Suddenly Slim gave
+a grunt of satisfaction.
+
+“Found a place,” he said. “Bumped my head on it, too. Feels kinda dry.”
+
+A closer investigation disclosed the fact that Slim had found a spot
+where an overhanging cliff had protected a few square feet of ground
+in an angle of the rocks. It was not an ideal place to spend the
+night, but it was dry and offered refuge from the wind, which blew
+cold from the tops of the Wild Horse range.
+
+The hounds curled up in the corner, while the two cowpunchers sat close
+together, denying themselves a cigaret, and waited for morning. They
+were tired, wet and hungry, but neither complained.
+
+“We’ll prob’ly warm up in the mornin’,” said Bill meaningly, as they
+humped dismally against the rock.
+
+“Not me,” replied Slim. “I may get excited as ----, but I’ll never get
+warm ag’in. This is what you’d call a damp-cold. I’m sure goin’ to kick
+---- out of these million-dollar dogs if they just led us in here to get
+out of the wet.”
+
+It was a long night. The wind grew colder and an occasional flurry of
+rain whipped into their shelter. Neither of them were able to sleep
+more than a few minutes at a time. A wild-cat almost ran into them,
+squalling with anger and alarm as it sprang away from the sudden scent
+of human beings and dogs. Down the wind came the wailing of a coyote
+pack, baffled in their nightly hunt by the extreme darkness.
+
+Daylight came slowly and the morning mists of the cañon lifted like
+steam from a giant boiler. They tied the dogs to a fallen tree and
+began working their way up the cañon. The mist was so heavy that they
+were unable to see any distance, but it was much easier traveling than
+it had been in the dark.
+
+Through rifts in the mist they could see the cliffs ahead of them.
+There was much down-timber, laurel and jack-pines, which impeded
+their progress. Then, through a pocket in the mist, Bill Smith caught
+a glimpse of the cabin.
+
+It was situated in an angle of the cliffs across the cañon from them,
+about fifty feet higher than they were standing. It was only a glimpse,
+but it gave him the exact location and a fair idea of how to reach
+there.
+
+“We’ll have to hurry,” he told Slim. “This fog won’t last much longer
+and there’s nothin’ but rocks for cover between here and there.”
+
+“Got to get within six-gun range, that’s a cinch,” panted Slim. “You
+lead the way, Willyum.”
+
+Across the slippery rocks they made their way, working to the right of
+the cabin with the intention of approaching it from the rear. They
+reached the cliffs and began working around to the left. The mists
+from the lower cañon were rising up past them now and they were unable
+to see anything.
+
+Suddenly Bill stopped. Just in front of him was the corner of the
+cabin; so close, in fact, that he had almost bumped his head on one
+of the projecting logs. Slim moved in beside him and they silently
+studied their next move.
+
+“We’ll try the rear,” whispered Bill softly. “Go easy and keep your gun
+handy.”
+
+Slowly they worked their way between the cliff and the cabin, which were
+so close together that there was barely room for a person to walk. There
+they found a door, located just beyond the center of the cabin, which
+seemed to be about thirty feet in length.
+
+For several moments they listened closely at the door, but there was no
+sound from within. Bill pushed softly against the door and it creaked
+open.
+
+From within came the odors of cooked food and the smell of wood-smoke,
+but no one challenged their right to open the door. Cautiously they
+peered inside.
+
+It was a two-room cabin, rudely furnished. They stepped softly inside,
+their guns handy. Across the room was a double-decked bunk, built into
+the corner of the wall. There was a crudely built table and a low stool.
+The flooring of the cabin was of packed earth--uneven and unclean.
+
+The opening between the two rooms was a sawed-out space, about five
+feet by three feet, without either door or curtain. In the other
+room they found another double-decked bunk, a fireplace, table and
+two rough benches. The dirt roof of the cabin was not water-proof,
+judging from the little pools of water in the low places of the dirt
+floor.
+
+A once-gaudy blanket hung over the edge of the upper bunk, and a
+tumbled mass of old blankets in the lower bunk attested to the fact
+that some one had spent the night there. The room was warm, although
+the fire had been put out. Evidently some one had thrown a bucketful
+of water into the fireplace.
+
+There was a front door, roughly made of hand-hewn timber, and beside it
+was a small window aperture, _sans_ window, but with a hinged board which
+would lift to show a view of the cañon. There were several apertures
+between the logs left, no doubt, for loop-holes.
+
+Bill peered out through one of these apertures, jerked back and whirled
+on Slim who was reaching for that door.
+
+“Two men comin’!” he exclaimed in a whisper. “C’m’on!”
+
+They darted into the other room and stopped near the door.
+
+“How close are they?” whispered Slim.
+
+“Right up to us,” whispered Bill softly. “Let’s take a chance.”
+
+He stepped across the room, climbed to the upper bunk, while Slim
+followed him. The bunk was fairly high and by crowding against the
+wall they would be partly hid from any one below.
+
+They had barely stretched out when they heard the front door open. There
+was no sound for several moments; then they heard a soft footstep. Some
+one had come to the opening between the two rooms. Then big Jim Mott’s
+voice said--
+
+“Nobody around here, but they’ve been here a short time ago.”
+
+“---- place I ever tried to get to,” complained McHague’s voice wearily.
+“I hope to ---- I never have to crawl over them wet rocks again. I don’t
+see how you ever found it, Jim.”
+
+“Knowing where it was helped me,” laughed Big Jim.
+
+“Well, it’s sure ---- well hid,” declared
+
+McHague. “Don’t anybody know where it is?”
+
+“Nobody but Pablo and his gang. I’ve been here twice. Pablo built it a
+year or so ago.”
+
+“Regular rustler’s roost, eh?” grunted McHague.
+
+“Yes. Pablo wanted a place to hole-up in. He’s afraid of the law.” Big
+Jim laughed.
+
+“Well, what did you expect to find here--the girl?” asked McHague.
+
+“Perhaps.”
+
+He turned back toward the door and they splashed through the puddles on
+the floor.
+
+Slim and Bill raised up slightly and looked at each other. Slim’s lips
+framed an “Oh!”, but there was no sound. McHague and Big Jim were
+talking softly to each other. The back door creaked very slightly and
+Bill lifted his head, peering with one eye.
+
+The door had swung partly open, disclosing Pablo, a rifle gripped in
+both hands. Softly he slipped through the doorway with the rifle at
+his shoulder. He passed out of Bill’s vision, and a moment later his
+voice hissed softly--
+
+“Not move--please!”
+
+For several moments there was no sound. Then:
+
+“Drop guns on floor,” ordered Pablo.
+
+The front door creaked and Big Jim’s voice rasped angrily:
+
+“The whole works, eh? Pokey Speed and Mike John.”
+
+“---- right!” grunted Mike John’s voice.
+
+An interval of silence, except for shuffling feet, before Pablo spoke
+again--
+
+“You got all gun, Mike?”
+
+“---- right.”
+
+“Set down,” ordered Pablo.
+
+“What’s all this about?” queried McHague, a note of fear in his voice.
+“I thought you owned this bunch of breeds, Jim.”
+
+“No more,” said Pablo quickly, and his statement was echoed by Mike
+John’s--
+
+“---- right!”
+
+“Well, what are you going to do?” demanded Big Jim.
+
+“You in hurry?” asked Pokey Speed in an amused voice.
+
+“Nobody see you come,” stated Pablo. “Nobody know how to find this
+place. Why you come, Big Jim?”
+
+“You know ---- well why I came,” retorted Big Jim.
+
+Pablo laughed.
+
+“I know why. Mike John see you pass ranch last night. He come and tell
+me.”
+
+Slim and Bill exchanged glances of understanding. It was Mike John on
+the pinto in the lightning glare. He had come to tell Pablo that Big
+Jim was coming.
+
+“He must ’a’ had a swell time,” grunted McHague dismally. “I never seen
+a storm like that before in my life. By ----, it just blew us off the
+mountain.”
+
+“Nobody find this place,” said Pablo.
+
+“Don’t fool yourself,” said Big Jim quickly.
+
+“You tell?”
+
+There was menace in Pablo’s voice.
+
+“He lie,” declared Mike John. “He try scare you, Pablo.”
+
+“Oh, ----!” snorted McHague. “What’s it all about, anyway?”
+
+“I know you,” said Pablo. “You boss of prison, eh? Big Jim say you take
+me to prison. He say I get to ---- out of here, or I go to prison.”
+
+“That’s right,” agreed McHague.
+
+“---- wrong!” snorted Mike John.
+
+“You’ll go to prison, if I ever tell on you, Pablo,” declared Big Jim
+warningly. Pablo laughed.
+
+“You not tell, Big Jim.”
+
+“---- right!” added Mike John. “You no talk now.”
+
+“Hey! What the ----’s all this about?” McHague’s voice was filled with
+apprehension.
+
+“Set down!” snapped Pablo, “I’m boss now.”
+
+“Well, I never done nothin’ to you.”
+
+“You never have chance.”
+
+The three half-breeds laughed. Slim and Bill were sitting up in the
+bunk now, looking at each other wonderingly. They were hearing things
+that made them wonder.
+
+“Where is that girl?” demanded Big Jim.
+
+“You think I’m fool?” queried Pablo. “I work for you long time, Big
+Jim. I’m ’fraid of you. You tell me you send me to prison. Pablo scare
+at prison.”
+
+“You bet I’ll send you to prison. You try to double-cross me and you’ll
+sure go up for life. You got off pretty easy when they sent Old Hump
+Sherrill to prison, Pablo. You know ---- well it was your work--not Hump
+Sherrill’s.”
+
+Pablo did not reply. Bill Smith shut his jaw tightly and the ball of his
+thumb caressed the hammer of his big six-gun. Now he knew that poor Old
+Hump had been framed into prison.
+
+“And it’s a wonder they didn’t get you instead of Tex Rowland,”
+continued Big Jim. “Tex scared you away before you could brand that
+RMP mare, and it just happened that Crane and Slim found him inside
+the corral.”
+
+“I steal horse for you,” said Pablo accusingly. “You give me nothin’.
+You say all the time you send me to prison if I no do this.”
+
+Slim swore softly and nodded at Bill Smith.
+
+“I no go to prison,” said Pablo. “I fool you.”
+
+“Well, what are you going to do?” demanded Big Jim.
+
+“I know you come here,” exclaimed Pablo. “You know this place.”
+
+Big Jim swore heartily and Pablo grunted for him to sit still.
+
+“I steal girl,” confessed Pablo. “She your girl, Big Jim. You call me
+Injun snake and say you have me hung; so I get even with you now. You
+know I steal girl; so you come here. I know you come here.”
+
+“---- smart!” grunted Mike John in appreciation.
+
+“This is a ---- of a mix-up,” declared McHague. “I dunno why yuh dragged
+me into it, Jim. I’ve done your dirty work, too.”
+
+“Shut up!” snapped Big Jim. “You’re still alive.”
+
+And then to Pablo:
+
+“How much you want, Pablo? How much money?”
+
+“No money.”
+
+“No money, eh? Then what do you want?”
+
+“You wait see.”
+
+“---- right.” Mike John laughed loudly.
+
+“You shot old Rory McPherson,” accused Big Jim.
+
+“You tell me sometime I shoot him,” retorted Pablo. “I no shoot him for
+you; I shoot him to steal girl. Him old man--die pretty soon, anyway.”
+
+“That’s kinda cold-blooded,” observed McHague.
+
+“You shut up,” ordered Pablo. “You go to ---- pretty soon.”
+
+“Say, you ain’t sore at me,” wailed McHague. “I never done nothin’ to
+you, Pablo.”
+
+“You bring hounds to hunt men.”
+
+“But I wasn’t huntin’ you, Pablo. You’re Big Jim’s friend.”
+
+“That ---- lie!” exclaimed Mike John.
+
+“This is all foolishness,” declared Big Jim. “Pablo, you turn that girl
+over to us and get out of the country. If you stay here, they’ll hang
+you in spite of anything I can do. Don’t yuh know what it means to steal
+a girl?”
+
+“Girl all right,” stated Pablo. “I no want girl. I steal her to make you
+come. She no get hurt.”
+
+“But what do you want of me?” demanded Big Jim hotly.
+
+Pablo laughed.
+
+“You not smart man; you ---- fool. Bimeby the wolf find this cabin.
+Door open, nobody live here. You no send Pablo to prison, Big Jim.
+Pablo treat wolf. How you like that?”
+
+Big Jim laughed, but there was no mirth. He was afraid, and the
+half-breeds knew it.
+
+“You couldn’t kill me,” said Big Jim, trying to be boastful. “You’re
+afraid, Pablo. They’d get you pretty quick. Those hounds would trail
+you into ----, you dirty half-breed.”
+
+“Mebbe I no kill you.”
+
+Pablo’s voice did not show indecision. He spoke gutturally, and a moment
+later Slim and Bill ducked down as Mike John glided past their bunk and
+went out the rear door.
+
+“Listen to me, Pablo,” Big Jim was talking again. “You let up on all
+this foolishness and save your own hide. Turn the girl over to us and
+we’ll swear to let you have a chance to get out of the country safe.
+If you stay here they’ll skin you alive.”
+
+“Mebbe. I take chance. You lie plenty to me, Big Jim. Pablo no go to
+prison.”
+
+“But what about me?” queried McHague. “I ain’t got nothin’ to do with
+this. I don’t even belong in this country. You ain’t got nothin’ against
+me, Pablo.”
+
+“You have bad luck,” replied Pablo. “You know too much--see too much.”
+
+“----, I won’t never say a word,” promised McHague, pleadingly. “I want
+to get out of here.”
+
+“Where you want go, eh?”
+
+“Back where I came from, by ----!”
+
+“Where your dogs?”
+
+“Stolen. Slim Whelan and Bill Smith stole ’em. They wanted to keep me
+from trailin’ Tex Rowland.”
+
+Pablo laughed throatily.
+
+“Steal your dogs, eh? Bill Smith. By ----, that good! Ho, ho, ho, ho!”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+A moment later the rear door creaked open and Bill Smith almost spoke
+aloud with surprise. Alice Spotted Horse came in, with Della Marsh close
+behind her. Behind them came Mike John, closing the door.
+
+Della Marsh was not bound in any way, but she looked weary and
+bedraggled. She was clad in her riding clothes, which had been torn in
+spots and covered with dirt. Her hair fell in a tumbled mass about her
+shoulders.
+
+They passed into the next room. For a moment there was silence and then
+Big Jim’s voice saying:
+
+“Well, we found you, Della; but it didn’t do us much good. We are
+prisoners, too.”
+
+Bill Smith grinned when Della ignored Big Jim’s statement.
+
+“What’s the idea of the Injun woman?” asked Big Jim.
+
+“She Alice Spotted Horse,” said Pablo.
+
+“Yes, I know who she is,” said Big Jim. “She works for Crane.”
+
+“She not work for Crane now. She was goin’ marry Tucson Charley. Charley
+dead now.”
+
+“You ---- right!” grunted Mike John. “Tucson Charley dead as ----.”
+
+“I understand all that,” Big Jim growled with impatience.
+
+“You know what kill Tucson Charley?”
+
+“Horse killed him,” growled Big Jim.
+
+“----d lie!” Mike John fairly barked his denial.
+
+“He got drunk and the horse kicked him to death,” declared Big Jim.
+“Everybody knows that, Pablo.”
+
+“Nobody knows--nobody sees. I _sabe_ what kill Charley.”
+
+“All right.” Big Jim growled angrily. “I don’t see what that has to do
+with us.”
+
+Bill and Slim were on their knees, trying to poke a hole in the chinking
+of the partition so they might see what was going on in the other room;
+but without any success. Pablo was talking now and the two cowpunchers
+on the upper bunk leaned out across the footboard, and listened closely.
+
+“Tucson Charley have letter from Tex Rowland. He give letter to this
+girl. She send letter back to Tex Rowland. Somebody kill Tucson Charley.
+Somebody write that note, Big Jim.”
+
+“Tex Rowland wrote it, didn’t he?”
+
+There was a note of alarm in Big Jim’s voice now.
+
+“Tex Rowland not write it,” declared Pablo. “You want Tex Rowland in
+prison. You ---- glad he go prison. You want girl; you want hurt old
+man in Rainbow Valley. You no want Tex get loose. You write letter,
+by ----! You kill Tucson Charley, Big Jim!”
+
+“That’s a lie!” Big Jim yelped his denial. “Why, you dirty half-breed,
+you lie! Tex Rowland wrote that note. The sheriff has the note now.
+He--he----”
+
+“Who stole note from Tucson Charley?” demanded Pablo. “Sheriff not steal
+it. You stole it. Tex Rowland never wrote note.”
+
+“How in ---- do you know that?” asked Big Jim hoarsely.
+
+“Tex Rowland not have to write note. Tex Rowland not have to write note
+to girl when he can see girl.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+Pablo laughed hoarsely, triumphantly.
+
+“Pablo know. Injun see things, Big Jim. Man have ’nother face, but
+same body. Injun sees man’s hands, man’s legs. Pablo know Tex Rowland.
+First time no _sabe_. See man roll cigaret, see man smoke. See man get
+on horse. Man ride same with one face same as ’nother. Injun see much;
+white man ---- fool.”
+
+“What do you mean, Pablo?” Della Marsh spoke for the first time since
+she had entered the room.
+
+Pablo laughed softly.
+
+“You know Bill Smith? Mebbe horse kick him, I dunno. Got new face--same
+body, same hands. Bill Smith same as Tex Rowland. By ----, I laugh all
+time. Tex Rowland come back to find out.”
+
+“Bill Smith?” Big Jim almost screamed. “You lie! Why, they don’t----”
+
+“Pancho knew him!” cried Della. “That big dog knew him. Where is he,
+Pablo?”
+
+“And Big Jim killed Tucson Charley,” said Pablo slowly. “I let Alice
+Spotted Horse know. She come here to pay Big Jim for kill Tucson
+Charley. She know how. Mike John, you get rope.”
+
+The shock of exposure had over-balanced Bill Smith and Slim Whelan. They
+had leaned far out, so as not to miss a single word of Pablo’s expose,
+and the rickety bunk swayed away from the wall.
+
+And before they could throw themselves back, the whole thing ripped away
+from the wall, swayed outward and came down with a splintering crash on
+the dirt floor.
+
+Both men were thrown almost across the room, rolling into the wall
+and clawing wildly for their balance. The crash of the fall had come
+as a complete surprise to those in the next room; but Big Jim saw in
+a flash that this was his supreme chance.
+
+Swiftly he dived across the space between himself and Pablo, knocking
+the breed aside and securing a rifle. He slithered sidewise against the
+wall, but fell on his knees, striving to swing the gun into position.
+
+But as quick as a cat Pablo flashed through the partition doorway,
+drawing his gun and knocking Della flat on the floor as he went past
+her. Pokey Speed threw himself into a crouching position against the
+wall, his six-shooter spouting lead at the two figures in the other
+room; while Mike John dropped behind the stunned McHague and tugged
+at the six-shooter, which had caught in the waist-band of his
+overalls.
+
+Bullets from Pokey Speed’s gun thudded into the logs over Bill Smith’s
+head as fast as Pokey could pull the trigger. Pablo had flung himself
+against the wall, out of line with Pokey Speed’s bullets, and now he
+swayed back and shot twice at Big Jim in the other room, before the gun
+went spinning out of his hand when Bill Smith’s first bullet crashed
+into his elbow.
+
+It was all happening in split seconds. Pablo staggered sidewise and went
+down against the wall, helpless and harmless. Both Slim and Bill were
+shooting at Pokey Speed, and he pitched forward on his face. The room
+was hazy with smoke now. Another gun was still working. Bill rushed to
+the doorway just as Big Jim’s rifle shot shook the room. Mike John had
+got to his feet, his back against the wall, his face twisted with pain.
+Then his head dropped forward and he crumpled.
+
+The smoke blew into Bill Smith’s face as he ducked low and darted into
+the room. McHague was sprawled face down in the middle of the floor
+and the door was wide open. Alice Spotted Horse had not moved from her
+position during the shooting and Della was still sprawled on the floor
+where Pablo’s shove had landed her.
+
+Bill Smith ran to the door and looked out. There was no sign of Big
+Jim. He whirled and ran back, meeting Slim in the doorway. The lanky
+cowboy had been shot through the arm, and his ankle was sprained from
+his fall; but he had shifted his gun to his left hand and was looking
+for more trouble.
+
+“Big Jim got away!” panted Bill.
+
+“Out there!” Pablo raised himself up and pointed toward the rear door.
+“He go up cliff! Hurry up--fast!”
+
+Bill ran out the rear door, looking wildly around. Just to the left was
+a rocky crevice, which broke in angles up the side of the sheer cliffs.
+About sixty feet up this crevice was Big Bill, while below him swayed a
+crude rope ladder. It was Pablo’s getaway to the top of the cliffs.
+
+Big Bill still clung to his rifle. He was having difficulty with the
+tangled ropes. Bill steadied himself against the back of the cabin and
+lifted his gun.
+
+“Stop!” he yelled hoarsely. “Don’t move, Big Jim!”
+
+The big man twisted around and looked at the man below him. Big Jim
+had been shot, but there was still fight left in him. He swung his
+back against the side of the cliff and fired the rifle in one hand;
+but the bullet merely screamed off the rocks twenty feet away from
+his target.
+
+Bill Smith lifted his gun slowly as Big Jim worked frantically to lever
+another cartridge into the chamber of his rifle. But before Bill could
+pull the trigger of his six-shooter his ears were almost deafened by the
+crash of a shot, fired just past his head. He whirled quickly. In the
+doorway beside him stood Alice Spotted Horse, a smoking rifle in her
+hands, looking up at Big Jim, who slowly let go with his hands and fell
+out his entire length and crashed against the cliff, hanging by one foot
+which had become entangled in the ropes.
+
+Bill Smith shut his eyes for a moment, and to his ears came Alice
+Spotted Horse’s soft exclamation--
+
+“I be ----!”
+
+There were other voices now. Some one was shouting his name. A big, blue
+dog came rushing through the doorway and almost knocked him down. It was
+Pancho, his big jaws slavering as he fairly moaned with excitement.
+
+A moment later Biddy Toole and Dick Clarey almost fell out through the
+doorway and behind them came Lohman, the sheriff.
+
+“My ----, what a clean-up!” exclaimed Lohman. “There’s Big Jim! Holy
+smoke, tell us about it, Smith.”
+
+“Bill Smith, ----!” Thus Slim painfully, but with a grin on his lips.
+“Pablo knew him. That’s old Tex, I tell yuh! Where he got his face--I
+dunno; but it’s old Tex.”
+
+The others stared at him, as at a ghost; their faces showing their
+unbelief.
+
+“Yeah, I’m Tex Rowland,” said Bill Smith. “I got in a wreck and the
+doctors made me a new face.”
+
+Della Marsh came out to him, wonderingly, half-afraid. He held out his
+hand to her, a smile on his face.
+
+“Pancho knew you,” she said slowly. “You can’t fool a dog.”
+
+“Nor a half-breed,” added Slim painfully.
+
+“But what is it all about?” demanded Lohman. “What was all this killing
+about, Tex?”
+
+Tex turned and walked into the cabin, followed by the questioning three.
+He looked over the victims. Pokey Speed was dead--riddled with bullets.
+Mike John’s soul had fled to the happy hunting grounds of his ancestors;
+but Pablo was able to sit up and scowl defiance at every one.
+
+As they looked at him, McHague rolled over and tried to get up. Biddy
+Toole helped him to a sitting position against the wall, where he sat
+limply and goggled at every one.
+
+“Somebody must ’a’ belted him over the head with a gun,” said Biddy.
+“He’s sure got a lumpy-lookin’ cranium.”
+
+“Mike John hit um,” offered Alice Spotted Horse.
+
+McHague spat painfully and looked around. It took him some time to
+remember what had happened. Then:
+
+“My ----, that was awful,” he said wearily. “Where’s Big Jim?”
+
+“Big Jim is dead,” said some one.
+
+“Did Pablo kill him?”
+
+“The Injun woman killed him,” said Tex.
+
+“I suppose it’s just as well,” said McHague painfully, as he squinted up
+at Lohman. “You’re the sheriff?”
+
+“How did you fellers find the way in here?” queried Tex.
+
+“We’ve got Mose Dickey tied up down the hill,” grinned Lohman. “We
+hunted with the big dog from the RMP and accidentally ran into Mose.
+He was on his way here, and between what he’d tell us, and what the
+dog knew about tracks, we got into this hole in the world in time to
+hear the battle start.”
+
+“Rory told us that Pablo and Pokey shot him and took Della,” said Dick
+Clarey. “So that’s how we happened to trail Mose. My ----, I can’t
+hardly believe that you’re Tex.”
+
+“Old Pancho found them bloodhounds,” grinned Biddy. “There ain’t no
+bloodhounds now. Must be a grudge between Pancho’s breed and them
+sad-faced animals.”
+
+“Well, who do I arrest, Tex?” queried Lohman foolishly. “I’m still
+thinkin’ in circles.”
+
+As swiftly as possible, Tex sketched out what had happened, while
+McHague nodded dismally.
+
+“That’s all true, I reckon,” he agreed. “Big Jim got the job for me at
+the penitentiary, and he made me hold up Tex’s mail. He said there was
+a movement on foot to get Tex pardoned, and he wanted me to fix it so
+that Tex would never come out. And like a ---- fool, I tried it. Old
+Hump Sherrill ruined the game.”
+
+“I knew that Big Jim was a crook; but I didn’t know he was as bad as
+this. When I had that trouble with Tex the other day, I had a feelin’
+that he--well, I didn’t think he was Tex; but I felt that somethin’
+was wrong.”
+
+“I know him,” grinned Pablo. “I’m Injun.”
+
+Lohman jerked his head toward Alice Spotted Horse--
+
+“What about her, Tex?”
+
+“Big Jim killed her sweetheart, Lohman. She only made him pay. I knew
+that Big Jim was a crook. McHague gave the snap away that night I made
+my getaway. Big Jim was the only one who could have had that much
+influence. We’ll consider that Pablo turned State’s evidence, Lohman,
+and let the law go as easy as possible.”
+
+“But he shot Rory McPherson and kidnapped Miss Marsh.”
+
+“Rory will get well,” said Biddy. “He’s tough.”
+
+“And Pablo didn’t hurt me,” added Della. “He told me that he was just
+taking me to a place where only Big Jim knew, and that I had nothing
+to fear. He wanted to trap Big Jim. He thought I was Big Jim’s girl.”
+
+“I think Tex no want her,” explained Pablo quickly. “I’m ---- fool, I
+t’ink.”
+
+“Yuh sure are, Pablo,” smiled Tex, throwing his arm around Della’s
+shoulders. “You’re a smart Injun; but there’s some things yuh don’t know
+much about. I’m goin’ to marry her, Pablo. I’m goin’ to do my dangest to
+get you out of trouble and then I’m goin’ to hire Alice Spotted Horse to
+cook for us.”
+
+“Another thing,” offered McHague hoarsely. “I happen to know that Big
+Jim palmed that thousand dollars and only left fifteen hundred in that
+envelope, Miss. When Crane failed to count it in the bank, it kinda
+soured his game. He had no way of provin’ that Crane didn’t take it.
+You can be crooked for a while, but you’re crazy when yuh think that
+you can get away with it forever.”
+
+Alice Spotted Horse moved in closer to Tex, squinting at him curiously.
+
+“You hire me for cook?” she asked. “I put much sody in biscuit and I
+kill Big Jim. I plenty bad Injun.”
+
+“I’ll hide the soda and the rifle,” said Tex seriously.
+
+“Um-m-m!”
+
+Alice Spotted Horse looked around at the grinning faces, squinting at
+each one. Then she rubbed her moccasined toe on the dirt floor and
+heaved a mighty sigh of relief--
+
+“I be ----!”
+
+Slim limped up to Tex and held out his good hand. For several moments
+they looked at each other seriously. Then a grin came to their faces
+and Slim said slowly:
+
+“You know how I felt about it, pardner. Me and Bill Smith will kinda
+side-step and let old Tex have what belongs to him.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Their hands gripped tightly for a moment and Slim limped away. Della
+was looking at him as if she understood, and the other cowpunchers
+turned away to assist the sheriff in his work. Old Pancho nuzzled
+Tex’s hand and walked stiffly to the door, where he turned and looked
+at Tex and Della, as much as to say--
+
+“There’s too many folks looking on.”
+
+“Yuh can take the two pinto horses,” offered Slim. “I’ll use one of the
+extra ones.”
+
+Tex nodded and they walked out of the door, going down the rocky slope,
+while ahead of them stalked old Pancho, the dog who was not fooled by a
+strange face. In the doorway of the cabin stood Pablo, the crippled
+half-breed, who, like the dog, recognized more than a face. He was
+grinning in spite of his wounds and what he must face in the future.
+
+Alice Spotted Horse moved in beside him, squinting down the trail. Pablo
+looked at her closely and touched her on the arm with his uninjured
+hand.
+
+“You all right,” he said softly. “Bimeby I come to see you, Alice.
+Sheriff say I no get hung--mebbe. You no got Tucson Charley--I got
+nobody. You _sabe_?”
+
+The big Indian woman turned her eyes from the trail and looked intently
+at the little half-breed. She did not understand at first. She was not
+very quick to grasp things. Then the ghost of a smile crossed her lips
+and she half-nodded an affirmative.
+
+“I be ----,” she said.
+
+
+[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the April 30, 1924
+issue of Adventure magazine.]
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78402 ***