diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 14171-0.txt | 8512 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/14171-8.txt | 8901 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/14171-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 157756 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/14171.txt | 8901 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/14171.zip | bin | 0 -> 157694 bytes |
8 files changed, 26330 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/14171-0.txt b/14171-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..698f6a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/14171-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8512 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14171 *** + + A Man Four-Square + + BY WILLIAM MAC LEOD RAINE + + AUTHOR OF THE YUKON TRAIL, BUCKY O'CONNOR, STEVE YEAGER, WYOMING, ETC. + + 1919 + + + + +Contents + + +PROLOGUE + + I. "CALL ME JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM" + II. SHOOT-A-BUCK CAÑON + III. RANSE ROUSH PAYS + IV. PAULINE ROUBIDEAU SAYS "THANK YOU" + V. NO FOUR-FLUSHER + VI. BILLIE ASKS A QUESTION + VII. ON THE TRAIL + VIII. THE FIGHT + IX. BILLIE STANDS PAT + X. BUD PROCTOR LENDS A HAND + XI. THE FUGITIVES + XII. THE GOOD SAMARITAN + XIII. A FRIENDLY ENEMY + XIV. THE GUN-BARREL ROAD + XV. LEE PLAYS A LEADING RÔLE + XVI. THREE MODERN MUSKETEERS + XVII. "PEG-LEG" WARREN + XVIII. A STAMPEDE + XIX. A TWO-GUN MAN + XX. EXIT MYSTERIOUS PETE + XXI. JIM RECEIVES AND DECLINES AN OFFER + XXII. THE RUSTLERS' CAMP + XXIII. MURDER FROM THE CHAPARRAL + XXIV. JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM LEAVES A NOTE + XXV. THE MAL-PAIS + XXVI. A DUST-STORM + XXVII. "A LUCKY GUY" +XXVIII. SHERIFF PRINCE FUNCTIONS + XXIX. "THEY CAN'T HANG ME IF I AIN'T THERE" + XXX. POLLY HAS A PLAN + XXXI. GOODHEART MAKES A PROMISE AND BREAKS IT + XXXII. JIM TAKES A PRISONER +XXXIII. THE ROUND-UP + XXXIV. PRIMROSE PATHS + + + + +A Man Four-Square + + + + +Prologue + + +A girl sat on the mossy river-bank in the dappled, golden sunlight. +Frowning eyes fixed on a sweeping eddy, she watched without seeing the +racing current. Her slim, supple body, crouched and tense, was +motionless, but her soul seethed tumultuously. In the bosom of her coarse +linsey gown lay hidden a note. Through it destiny called her to the +tragic hour of decision. + +The foliage of the young pawpaws stirred behind her. Furtively a pair of +black eyes peered forth and searched the opposite bank of the stream, the +thicket of rhododendrons above, the blooming laurels below. Very +stealthily a handsome head pushed out through the leaves. + +"'Lindy," a voice whispered. + +The girl gave a start, slowly turned her head. She looked at the owner of +the voice from steady, deep-lidded eyes. The pulse in her brown throat +began to beat. One might have guessed her with entire justice a sullen +lass, untutored of life, passionate, and high-spirited, resentful of all +restraint. Hers was such beauty as lies in rich blood beneath dark +coloring, in dusky hair and eyes, in the soft, warm contours of youth. +Already she was slenderly full, an elemental daughter of Eve, primitive +as one of her fur-clad ancestors. No forest fawn could have been more +sensuous or innocent than she. + +Again the man's glance swept the landscape cautiously before he moved out +from cover. In the country of the Clantons there was always an open +season on any one of his name. + +"What are you doin' here, Dave Roush?" the girl demanded. "Are you +crazy?" + +"I'm here because you are, 'Lindy Clanton," he answered promptly. "That's +a right good reason, ain't it?" + +The pink splashed into her cheeks like spilled wine. + +"You'd better go. If dad saw you--" + +He laughed hardily. "There'd be one less Roush--or one less Clanton," he +finished for her. + +Dave Roush was a large, well-shouldered man, impressive in spite of his +homespun. If he carried himself with a swagger there was no lack of +boldness in him to back it. His long hair was straight and black and +coarse, a derivative from the Indian strain in his blood. + +"Git my note?" he asked. + +She nodded sullenly. + +'Lindy had met Dave Roush at a dance up on Lonesome where she had no +business to be. At the time she had been visiting a distant cousin in a +cove adjacent to that creek. Some craving for adventure, some instinct of +defiance, had taken her to the frolic where she knew the Roush clan would +be in force. From the first sight of her Dave had wooed her with a +careless bravado that piqued her pride and intrigued her interest. The +girl's imagination translated in terms of romance his insolence and +audacity. Into her starved existence he brought color and emotion. + +Did she love him? 'Lindy was not sure. He moved her at times to furious +anger, and again to inarticulate longings she did not understand. For +though she was heritor of a life full-blooded and undisciplined, every +fiber of her was clean and pure. There were hours when she hated him, +glimpsed in him points of view that filled her with vague distrust. But +always he attracted her tremendously. + +"You're goin' with me, gal," he urged. + +Close to her hand was a little clump of forget-me-nots which had pushed +through the moss. 'Lindy feigned to be busy picking the blossoms. + +"No," she answered sulkily. + +"Yes. To-night--at eleven o'clock, 'Lindy,--under the big laurel." + +While she resented his assurance, it none the less coerced her. She did +not want a lover who groveled in the dust before her. She wanted one to +sweep her from her feet, a young Lochinvar to compel her by the force of +his personality. + +"I'll not be there," she told him. + +"We'll git right across the river an' be married inside of an hour." + +"I tell you I'm not goin' with you. Quit pesterin' me." + +His devil-may-care laugh trod on the heels of her refusal. He guessed +shrewdly that circumstances were driving her to him. The girl was full of +resentment at her father's harsh treatment of her. Her starved heart +craved love. She was daughter of that Clanton who led the feud against +the Roush family and its adherents. Dave took his life in his hands every +time he crossed the river to meet her. Once he had swum the stream in the +night to keep an appointment. He knew that his wildness, his reckless +courage and contempt of danger, argued potently for him. She was coming +to him as reluctantly and surely as a wild turkey answers the call of the +hunter. + +The sound of a shot, not distant, startled them. He crouched, wary as a +rattlesnake about to strike. The rifle seemed almost to leap forward. + +"Hit's Bud--my brother Jimmie." She pushed him back toward the pawpaws. +"Quick! Burn the wind!" + +"What about to-night? Will you come?" + +"Hurry. I tell you hit's Bud. Are you lookin' for trouble?" + +He stopped stubbornly at the edge of the thicket. "I ain't runnin' away +from it. I put a question to ye. When I git my answer mebbe I'll go. But +I don't 'low to leave till then." + +"I'll meet ye there if I kin git out. Now go," she begged. + +The man vanished in the pawpaws. He moved as silently as one of his +Indian ancestors. + +'Lindy waited, breathless lest her brother should catch sight of him. She +knew that if Jimmie saw Roush there would be shooting and one or the +other would fall. + +A rifle shot rang out scarce a hundred yards from her. The heart of the +girl stood still. After what seemed an interminable time there came to +her the sound of a care-free whistle. Presently her brother sauntered +into view, a dead squirrel in his hand. The tails of several others +bulged from the game bag by his side. The sister did not need to be told +that four out of five had been shot through the head. + +"Thought I heard voices. Was some one with you, sis?" the boy asked. + +"Who'd be with me here?" she countered lazily. + +A second time she was finding refuge in the for-get-me-nots. + +He was a barefoot little fellow, slim and hard as a nail. In his hand he +carried an old-fashioned rifle almost as long as himself. There was a +lingering look of childishness in his tanned, boyish face. His hands and +feet were small and shapely as those of a girl. About him hung the stolid +imperturbability of the Southern mountaineer. Times were when his blue +eyes melted to tenderness or mirth; yet again the cunning of the jungle +narrowed them to slits hard, as jade. Already, at the age of fourteen, he +had been shot at from ambush, had wounded a Roush at long range, had +taken part in a pitched battle. The law of the feud was tempering his +heart to implacability. + +The keen gaze of the boy rested on her. Ever since word had reached the +Clantons of how 'Lindy had "carried on" with Dave Roush at the dance on +Lonesome her people had watched her suspiciously. The thing she had done +had been a violation of the hill code and old Clay Clanton had thrashed +her with a cowhide till she begged for mercy. Jimmie had come home from +the still to find her writhing in passionate revolt. The boy had been +furious at his father; yet had admitted the substantial justice of the +punishment. Its wisdom he doubted. For he knew his sister to be stubborn +as old Clay himself, and he feared lest they drive her to the arms of Bad +Dave Roush. + +"I reckon you was talkin' to yo'self, mebbe," he suggested. + +"I reckon." + +They walked home together along a path through the rhododendrons. The +long, slender legs of the girl moved rhythmically and her arms swung like +pendulums. Life in the open had given her the litheness and the grace of +a woodland creature. The mountain woman is cheated of her youth almost +before she has learned to enjoy it. But 'Lindy was still under eighteen. +Her warm vitality still denied the coming of a day when she would be a +sallow, angular snuff-chewer. + +Within sight of the log cabin the girl lingered for a moment by the +sassafras bushes near the spring. Some deep craving for sympathy moved +her to alien speech. She turned upon him with an imperious, fierce +tenderness in her eyes. + +"You'll never forgit me, Bud? No matter what happens, you'll--you'll not +hate me?" + +Her unusual emotion embarrassed and a little alarmed him. "Oh, shucks! +They ain't anything goin' to happen, sis. What's ailin' you?" + +"But if anything does. You'll not hate me--you'll remember I allus +thought a heap of you, Jimmie?" she insisted. + +"Doggone it, if you're still thinkin' of that scalawag Dave Roush--" He +broke off, moved by some touch of prescient tragedy in her young face. +"'Course I ain't ever a-goin' to forgit you none, sis. Hit ain't likely, +is it?" + +It was a comfort to him afterward to recall that he submitted to her +impulsive caress without any visible irritability. + +'Lindy busied herself preparing supper for her father and brother. Ever +since her mother died when the child was eleven she had been the family +housekeeper. + +At dusk Clay Clanton came in and stood his rifle in a corner of the room. +His daughter recognized ill-humor in the grim eyes of the old man. He was +of a tall, gaunt figure, strongly built, a notable fighter with his fists +in the brawling days before he "got religion" at a camp meeting. Now his +Calvinism was of the sternest. Dancing he held to be of the devil. +Card-playing was a sin. If he still drank freely, his drinking was within +bounds. But he did not let his piety interfere with the feud. Within the +year, pillar of the church though he was, he had been carried home +riddled with bullets. Of the four men who had waylaid him two had been +buried next day and a third had kept his bed for months. + +He ate for a time in dour silence before he turned harshly on 'Lindy. + +"You ain't havin' no truck with Dave Roush are you? Not meetin' up with +him on the sly?" he demanded, his deep-set eyes full of menace under the +heavy, grizzled brows. + +"No, I ain't," retorted the girl, and her voice was sullen and defiant. + +"See you don't, lessen yo' want me to tickle yore back with the bud +again. I don't allow to put up with no foolishness." He turned in +explanation to the boy. "Brad Nickson seen him this side of the river +to-day. He says this ain't the fustest time Roush has been seen hangin' +'round the cove." + +The boy's wooden face betrayed nothing. He did not look at his sister. +But suspicions began to troop through his mind. He thought again of the +voices he had heard by the river and he remembered that it had become a +habit of the girl to disappear for hours in the afternoon. + +'Lindy went to her room early. She nursed against her father not only +resentment, but a strong feeling of injustice. He would not let her +attend the frolics of the neighborhood because of his scruples against +dancing. Yet she had heard him tell how he used to dance till daybreak +when he was a young man. What right had he to cut her off from the things +that made life tolerable? + +She was the heritor of lawless, self-willed, passionate ancestors. Their +turbulent blood beat in her veins. All the safeguards that should have +hedged her were gone. A wise mother, an understanding father, could have +saved her from the tragedy waiting to engulf her. But she had neither of +these. Instead, her father's inhibitions pushed her toward that doom to +which she was moving blindfold. + +Before her cracked mirror the girl dressed herself bravely in her cheap +best. She had no joy in the thing she was going to do. Of her love she +was not sure and of her lover very unsure. A bell of warning rang faintly +in her heart as she waited for the hours to slip away. + +A very little would have turned the tide. But she nursed her anger +against her father, fed her resentment with the memory of all his wrongs +to her. When at last she crept through the window to the dark porch +trellised with wild cucumbers, she persuaded herself that she was going +only to tell Dave Roush that she would not join him. + +Her heart beat fast with excitement and dread. Poor, undisciplined +daughter of the hills though she was, a rumor of the future whispered in +her ears and weighted her bosom. + +Quietly she stole past the sassafras brake to the big laurel. Her lover +took her instantly into his arms and kissed the soft mouth again and +again. She tried to put him from her, to protest that she was not going +with him. But before his ardor her resolution melted. As always, when he +was with her, his influence was paramount. + +"The boat is under that clump of bushes," he whispered. + +"Oh, Dave, I'm not goin'," she murmured. + +"Then I'll go straight to the house an' have it out with the old man," he +answered. + +His voice rang gay with the triumph of victory. He did not intend to let +her hesitations rob him of it. + +"Some other night," she promised. "Not now--I don't want to go now. +I--I'm not ready." + +"There's no time like to-night, honey. My brother came with me in the +boat. We've got horses waitin'--an' the preacher came ten miles to do the +job." + +Then, with the wisdom born of many flirtations, he dropped argument and +wooed her ardently. The anchors that held the girl to safety dragged. The +tug of sex, her desire of love and ignorance of life, his eager and +passionate demand that she trust him: all these swelled the tide that +beat against her prudence. + +She caught his coat lapels tightly in her clenched fists. + +"If I go I'll be givin' up everything in the world for you, Dave +Roush. My folks'll hate me. They'd never speak to me again. You'll +be good to me. You won't cast it up to me that I ran away with you. +You'll--you'll--" Her voice broke and she gulped down a little sob. + +He laughed. She could not see his face in the darkness, but the sound of +his laughter was not reassuring. He should have met her appeal seriously. + +The girl drew back. + +He sensed at once his mistake. "Good to you!" he cried. "'Lindy, I'm +a-goin' to be the best ever." + +"I ain't got any mother, Dave." Again she choked in her throat. "You +wouldn't take advantage of me, would you?" + +He protested hotly. Desiring only to be convinced, 'Lindy took one last +precaution. + +"Swear you'll do right by me always." + +He swore it. + +She put her hand in his and he led her to the boat. + +Ranse Roush was at the oars. Before he had taken a dozen strokes a wave +of terror swept over her. She was leaving behind forever that quiet, +sunny cove where she had been brought up. The girl began to shiver +against the arm of her lover. She heard again the sound of his low, +triumphant laughter. + +It was too late to turn back now. No hysterical request to be put back on +her side of the river would move these men. Instinctively she knew that. +From to-night she was to be a Roush. + +They found horses tied to saplings in a small cove close to the river. +The party mounted and rode into the hills. Except for the ring of the +horses' hoofs there was no sound for miles. 'Lindy was the first to +speak. + +"Ain't this Quicksand Creek?" she asked of her lover as they forded a +stream. + +He nodded. "The sands are right below us--not more'n seven or eight steps +down here Cal Henson was sucked under." + +After another stretch ridden in silence they turned up a little cove to a +light shining in a cabin window. The brothers alighted and Dave helped +the girl down. He pushed open the door and led the way inside. + +A man sat by the fireside with his feet on the table. He was reading a +newspaper. A jug of whiskey and a glass were within reach of his hand. +Without troubling to remove his boots from the table, he looked up with a +leer at the trembling girl. + +Dave spoke at once. "We'll git it over with. The sooner the quicker." + +'Lindy's heart was drenched with dread. She shrank from the three pairs +of eyes focused upon her as if they had belonged to wolves. She had hoped +that the preacher might prove a benevolent old man, but this man with the +heavy thatch of unkempt, red hair and furtive eyes set askew offered no +comfort. If there had been a single friend of her family present, if +there had been any woman at all! If she could even be sure of the man she +was about to marry! + +It seemed to her that the preacher was sneering when he put the questions +to which she answered quaveringly. Vaguely she felt the presence of some +cruel, sinister jest of which she was the sport. + +After the ceremony had been finished the three men drank together while +she sat white-faced before the fire. When at last Ranse Roush and the +red-headed preacher left the cabin, both of them were under the influence +of liquor. Dave had drunk freely himself. + +'Lindy would have given her hopes of heaven to be back safely in the +little mud-daubed bedroom she had called her own. + +Three days later 'Lindy wakened to find a broad ribbon of sunshine across +the floor of the cabin. Her husband had not come home at all the night +before. She shivered with self-pity and dressed slowly. Already she knew +that her life had gone to wreck, that it would be impossible to live with +Dave Roush and hold her self-respect. + +But she had cut herself off from retreat. All of her friends belonged to +the Clanton faction and they would not want to have anything to do with +her. She had no home now but this, no refuge against the neglect and +insults of this man with whom she had elected to go through life. To her +mind came the verdict of old Nance Cunningham on the imprudent marriage +of another girl: "Randy's done made her bed; I reckon she's got to lie +on it." + +A voice hailed the cabin from outside. She went to the door. Ranse Roush +and the red-haired preacher had ridden into the clearing and were +dismounting. They had with them a led horse. + +"Fix up some breakfast," ordered Ranse. + +The young wife flushed. She resented his tone and his manner. Like Dave, +he too assumed that she had come to be a drudge for the whole drunken +clan, a creature to be sneered at and despised. + +Silently she cooked a meal for the men. The girl was past tears. She had +wept herself out. + +While they ate the men told of her father's fury when he had discovered +the elopement, of how he had gone down to the mill and cast her off with +a father's curse, renouncing all relationship with her forever. It was a +jest that held for them a great savor. They made sport of him and of the +other Clantons till she could keep still no longer. + +"I won't stand this! I don't have to! Where's Dave?" she demanded, eyes +flashing with contempt and anger. + +Ranse grinned, then turned to his companion with simulated perplexity. +"Where is Dave, Brother Hugh?" + +"Damfino," replied the red-headed man, and the girl could see that he was +gloating over her. "Last night he was at a dance on God Forgotten Crick. +Dave's soft on a widow up there, you know." + +The color ebbed from the face of the wife. One of her hands clutched at +the back of a chair till the knuckles stood out white and bloodless. Her +eyes fastened with a growing horror upon those of the red-headed man. She +had come to the edge of an awful discovery. + +"You're no preacher. Who are you?" + +"Me?" His smile was cruel as death. "You done guessed it, sister. I'm +Hugh Roush--Dave's brother." + +"An'--an'--my marriage was all a lie?" + +"Did ye think Dave Roush would marry a Clanton? He's a bad lot, Dave is, +but he ain't come that low yet." + +For the first and last time in her life 'Lindy fainted. + +Presently she floated back to consciousness and the despair of a soul +mortally stricken. She saw it all now. The lies of Dave Roush had enticed +her into a trap. He had been working for revenge against the family he +hated, especially against brave old Clay Clanton who had killed two of +his kin within the year. With the craft inherited from savage ancestors +he had sent a wound more deadly than any rifle bullet could carry. The +Clantons were proud folks, and he had dragged their pride in the mud. + +If the two brothers expected her to make a scene, they were disappointed. +Numb with the shock of the blow, she made no outcry and no reproach. + +"Git a move on ye, gal," ordered Ranse after he had finished eating. +"You're goin' with us, so you better hurry." + +"What are you goin' to do with me?" she asked dully. + +"Why, Dave don't want you any more. We're goin' to send you home." + +"I reckon yore folks will kill the fatted calf for you," jeered Hugh +Roush. "They tell me you always been mighty high-heeled, 'Lindy Clanton. +Mebbe you won't hold yore head so high now." + +The girl rode between them down from the hills. Who knows into what an +agony of fear and remorse and black despair she fell? She could not go +home a cast-off, a soiled creature to be scorned and pointed at. She +dared not meet her father. It would be impossible to look her little +brother Jimmie in the face. Would they believe the story she told? And if +they were convinced of its truth, what difference would that make? She +was what she was, no matter how she had become so. + +On the pike they met old Nance Cunningham returning from the mill with a +sack of meal. The story of that meeting was one the old gossip told after +the tragedy to many an eager circle of listeners, + +"She jes' lifted her han' an' stopped me, an' if death was ever writ on a +human face it shorely wuz stomped on hers. 'I want you to tell my father +I'm sorry,' she sez. 'He swore he'd marry me inside of an hour. This man +hyer--his brother--made out like he wuz a preacher an' married us. Tell +my father that an' ask him to forgive me if he can.' That wuz all she +said. Ranse Roush hit her horse with a switch an' sez, 'Yo' kin tell him +all that yore own self soon as you git home.' I reckon I wuz the lastest +person she spoke to alive." + +They left the old woman staring after them with her mouth open. It could +have been only a few minutes later that they reached Quicksand Creek. + +'Lindy pulled up her horse to let the men precede her through the ford. +They splashed into the shallows on the other side of the creek and waited +for her to join them. Instead, she slipped from the saddle, ran down the +bank, and plunged into the quicksand. + +"Goddlemighty!" shrieked Ranse. "She's a-drowndin' herself in the sands." + +They spurred their horses back across the creek and ran to rescue the +girl. But she had flung herself forward face down far out of their reach. +They dared not venture into the quivering bog after her. While they still +stared in a frozen horror, the tragedy was completed. The victim of their +revenge had disappeared beneath the surface of the morass. + + + + +Chapter I + +"Call Me Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em" + + +The boy had spent the night at a water-hole in a little draw near the +foot of the mesa. He had supped on cold rations and slept in his blanket +without the comfort of glowing piñon knots. For yesterday he had cut +Indian signs and after dark had seen the shadow of Apache camp-fires +reflected in the clouds. + +After eating he swung to the bare back of his pony and climbed to the +summit of the butte. His trained eyes searched the plains. A big bunch of +antelope was trailing down to water almost within rifle-shot. But he was +not looking for game. + +He sniffed the smoke from the pits where the renegades were roasting +mescal and judged the distance to the Apache camp at close to ten miles. +His gaze swept toward the sunrise horizon and rested upon a cloud of +dust. That probably meant a big herd of cattle crossing to the Pecos +Valley on the Chisum Trail that led to Fort Stanton. The riders were +likely just throwing the beeves from the bed-ground to the trail. The boy +waited to make sure of their line of travel. + +Presently he spoke aloud, after the fashion of the plainsman who spends +much time alone in the saddle. "Looks like they'll throw off to-night +close to the 'Pache camp. If they do hell's a-goin' to pop just before +sunup to-morrow. I reckon I'll ride over and warn the outfit." + +From a trapper the boy had learned that a band of Mescalero Apaches had +left the reservation three weeks before, crossed into Mexico, gone +plundering down the Pecos, and was now heading back toward the Staked +Plains. Evidently the drover did not know this, since he was moving his +cattle directly toward the Indian camp. + +The young fellow let his cowpony pick its way down the steep shale hill +to the draw. He saddled without a waste motion, packed his supplies +deftly, mounted, and was off. In the way he cut across the desert toward +the moving herd was the certainty of the frontiersman. He did not hurry, +but he wasted no time. His horse circled in and out among the sand dunes, +now topped a hill, now followed a wash. Every foot of the devious trail +was the most economical possible. + +At the end of nearly an hour's travel he pulled up, threw down his bridle +reins, and studied the ground carefully. He had cut Indian sign. What he +saw would have escaped the notice of a tenderfoot, and if it had been +pointed out to him none but an expert trailer would have understood its +significance. Yet certain facts were printed here on the desert for this +boy as plainly as if they had been stenciled on a guide-post. He knew +that within forty-eight hours a band of about twenty Mescalero bucks had +returned to camp this way from an antelope hunt and that they carried +with them half a dozen pronghorns. It was a safe guess that they were +part of the large camp the smoke of which he had seen. + +Long before the young man struck the drive, he knew he was close by the +cloud of dust and the bawling of the cattle. His course across country +had been so accurate that he hit the herd at the point without +deflecting. + +An old Texan drew up, changed his weight on the saddle to rest himself, +and hailed the youngster. + +"Goin' somewheres, kid, or just ridin'?" he asked genially. + +"Just takin' my hawss out for a jaunt so's he won't get hog-fat," grinned +the boy. + +The Texan chewed tobacco placidly and eyed the cowpony. The horse had +been ridden so far that he was a bag of bones. + +"Looks some gaunted," he commented. + +"Four Bits is so thin he won't throw a shadow," admitted the boy. + +"Come a right smart distance, I reckon?" + +"You done said it." + +"Where you headin' for?" + +"For Deaf Smith County. I got an uncle there. Saw your dust an' dropped +over to tell you that a big bunch of 'Paches are camped just ahead of +you." + +The older man looked at him keenly. "How do you know, son?" + +"Smelt their smoke an' cut their trail." + +"Know Injuns, do you?" + +"I trailed with Al Sieber 'most two years." + +To have served with Sieber for any length of time was a certificate of +efficiency. He was the ablest scout in the United States Army. Through +his skill and energy Geronimo and his war braves were later forced to +give themselves up to the troops. + +"'Nuff said. Are these 'Paches liable to make us any trouble?" + +"Yes, sir. I think they are. They're a bunch of broncos from the +reservation an' they have been across the line stealin' horses an' +murderin' settlers. They will sure try to stampede your cattle an' run +off a lot of 'em." + +"Hmp! You better go back an' see old man Webb about it. What's yore name, +kid?" + +For just an eye-beat the boy hesitated. "Call me Jim Thursday." + +A glimmer of a smile rested in the eyes of the Texan. He was willing to +bet that this young fellow would not have given him that name if to-day +had not happened to be the fifth day of the week. But it was all one to +the cowpuncher. To question a man too closely about his former residence +and manner of life was not good form on the frontier. + +"I'll call you Jim from Sunday to Saturday," he said, pulling a tobacco +pouch from his hip pocket. "My name is Wrayburn--Dad Wrayburn, the boys +call me." + +The Texan shouted to the man riding second on the swing. "Oh, you, Billie +Prince!" + +A tanned, good-looking young fellow cantered up. + +"Meet Jimmie Thursday, Billie," the old-timer said by way of +introduction. "This boy says there's heap many Injuns on the war-path +right ahead of us. I reckon I'll let you take the point while I ride +back with him an' put it up to the old man." + +The "old man" turned out to be a short, heavy-set Missourian who had +served in the Union Army and won a commission by intelligence and +courage. Wherever the name of Homer Webb was known it stood for integrity +and square-dealing. His word was as good as a signed bond. + +Webb had come out of the war without a cent, but with a very definite +purpose. During the last year of the Confederacy, while it was tottering +to its fall, he had served in Texas. The cattle on the range had for +years been running wild, the owners and herdsmen being absent with the +Southern army. They had multiplied prodigiously, so that many thousands +of mavericks roamed without brand, the property of any one who would +round them up and put an iron on their flanks. The money value of them +was very little. A standard price for a yearling was a plug of tobacco. +But Webb looked to the future. He hired two riders, gathered together a +small remuda of culls, and went into the cattle business with energy. +To-day the Flying V Y was stamped on forty thousand longhorns. + +The foreman of the Flying V Y was riding with the owner of the brand at +the drag end of the herd. He was a hard-faced citizen known as Joe +Yankie. When Wrayburn had finished his story, the foreman showed a row of +tobacco-stained teeth in an unpleasant grin. + +"Same old stuff, Dad. There always is a bunch of bucks off the +reservation an' they're always just goin' to run our cattle away. If you +ask me there's nothin' to it." + +Young Thursday flushed. "If you'll ride out with me I'll show you their +trail." + +Yankie looked at him with a sneer. He guessed this boy to be about +eighteen. There was a suggestion of effeminacy about the lad's small, +well-shaped hands and feet. He was a slender, smooth-faced youth with +mild blue eyes. It occurred to Webb, too, that the stranger might have +imagined the Apaches. But in his motions was something of the lithe grace +of the puma. It was part of the business of the cattleman to judge men +and he was not convinced that this young fellow was as inoffensive as he +looked. + +"Where you from?" asked the drover. + +"From the San Carlos Agency." + +"Ever meet a man named Micky Free out there?" + +"I've slept under the same tarp with him many's the time when we were +followin' Chiricahua 'Paches. He's the biggest dare-devil that ever +forked a horse." + +"Describe him." + +"Micky's face is a map of Ireland. He's got only one eye; a buck punched +the other out when he was a kid. His hair is red an' he wears it long." + +"Any beard?" + +"A bristly little red mustache." + +"That's Micky to a T." Webb made up his mind swiftly. "The boy's all +right, Yankie. He'll do to take along." + +"It's your outfit. Suits me if he does you." The foreman turned +insolently to the newcomer. "What'd you say your name was, sissie?" + +The eyes of the boy, behind narrowed lids, grew hard as steel. + +"Call me Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em," he drawled in a soft voice, every syllable +distinct. + +There was a moment of chill silence. A swift surprise had flared into the +eyes of the foreman. The last thing in the world he had expected was to +have his bad temper resented so promptly by this smooth-faced little +chap. Since Yankie was the camp bully he bristled up to protect his +reputation. + +"Better not get on the prod with me, young fellow me lad. I'm liable to +muss up your hair. Me, I'm from the Strip, where folks grow man-size." + +The youngster smiled, but there was no mirth in that thin-lipped smile. +He knew, as all men did, that the Cherokee Strip was the home of +desperadoes and man-killers. The refuse of the country, driven out by the +law of more settled communities, found here a refuge from punishment. But +if the announcement of the foreman impressed him, he gave no sign of it. + +"Why didn't you stay there?" he asked with bland innocence. + +Yankie grew apoplectic. He did not care to discuss the reasons why he +had first gone to the Strip or the reasons why he had come away. This +girl-faced boy was the only person who had asked for a bill of +particulars. Moreover, the foreman did not know whether the question had +been put in child-like ignorance of any possible offense or with an +impudent purpose to enrage him. + +"Don't run on the rope when I'm holdin' it, kid," he advised roughly. +"You're liable to get thrown hard." + +"And then again I'm liable not to," lisped the youth from Arizona gently. + +The bully looked the slim newcomer over again, and as he looked there +rang inside him some tocsin of warning. Thursday sat crouched in the +saddle, wary as a rattlesnake ready to strike. A sawed-off shotgun lay +under his leg within reach of his hand, the butt of a six-gun was even +closer to those smooth, girlish fingers. In the immobility of his figure +and the steadiness of the blue eyes was a deadly menace. + +Yankie was no coward. He would go through if he had to. But there was +still time to draw back if he chose. He was not exactly afraid; on the +other hand, he did not feel at all easy. + +He contrived a casual, careless laugh. "All right, kid. I don't have to +rob the cradle to fill my private graveyard. Go get your Injuns. It will +be all right with me." + +Webb drew a breath of relief. There was to be no gunplay after all. He +had had his own reasons for not interfering sooner, but he knew that the +situation had just grazed red tragedy. + +"I'm goin' to take the boy's advice," he announced to Yankie. "Ride +forward an' swing the herd toward that big red butte. We'll give our +Mescalero friends a wide berth if we can." + +The foreman hung in the saddle a moment before he turned to go. He had to +save his face from a public back-down, "Bet you a week's pay there's +nothin' to it, Webb." + +"Hope you're right, Joe," his employer answered. + +As soon as Yankie had cantered away, Dad Wrayburn, ex-Confederate +trooper, slapped his hand on his thigh and let out a modulated rebel +yell. + +"Dad burn my hide, Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em, you're all right. Fustest time I +ever saw Joe take water, but he shorely did splash some this here +occasion. I wouldn't 'a' missed it for a bunch of hog-fat yearlin's." + +Webb had not been sorry to see his arrogant foreman brought up with a +sharp turn, but in the interest of discipline he did not care to say so. + +"Why can't you boys get along peaceable with Joe, I'd like to know? This +snortin' an' pawin' up the ground don't get you anything." + +"I reckon Joe does most of the snortin' that's done," Wrayburn answered +dryly. "I ain't had any trouble with him, because he spends a heap of +time lettin' me alone. But there's no manner of doubt that Joe rides the +boys too hard." + +The drover dismissed the subject and turned to Thursday. + +"Want a job?" + +"Mebbe so." + +"I need another man. Since you sabe the ways of the 'Paches I can use you +to scout ahead for us." + +"What you payin'?" + +"Fifty a month." + +"You've hired a hand." + +"Good enough. Better pick one of the boys to ride with you while you are +out scoutin'." + +"I'll take Billie Prince," decided the new rider at once. + +"You know Billie?" + +"Never saw him before to-day. But I like his looks. He's a man to tie +to." + +"You're right he is." + +The drover looked at his new employee with a question in his shrewd eyes. +The boy was either a man out of a thousand or he was a first-class +bluffer. He claimed to have cut Indian sign and to know exactly what was +written there. At a single glance he had sized up Prince and knew him +for a reliable side partner. Without any bluster he had served notice on +Yankie that it would be dangerous to pick on him as the butt of his +ill-temper. + +In those days, on the Pecos, law lay in a holster on a man's thigh. The +individual was a force only so far as his personality impressed itself +upon his fellows. If he made claims he must be prepared to back them to a +fighting finish. + +Was this young Thursday a false alarm? Or was he a good man to let alone +when one was looking for trouble? Webb could not be sure yet, though he +made a shrewd guess. But he knew it would not he long before he found +out. + + + + +Chapter II + +Shoot-a-Buck Cañon + + +Webb sent for Billie Prince. + +"Seems there's a bunch of bronco 'Paches camped ahead of us, Billie. +Thursday here trailed with Sieber. I want you an' him to scout in front +of us an' see we don't run into any ambush. You're under his orders, y' +understand." + +Prince was a man of few words. He nodded. + +"You know the horses that the boys claim. Well, take Thursday to the +remuda an' help him pick a mount from the extras in place of that +broomtail he's ridin'," continued the drover. "Look alive now. I don't +want my cattle stampeded because we haven't got sense enough to protect +'em. No 'Paches can touch a hoof of my stock if I can help it." + +"If they attack at all it will probably be just before daybreak, but it +is just as well to be ready for 'em," suggested Thursday. + +"I brought along some old Sharps an' some Spencers. I reckon I'll have +'em loaded an' distribute 'em among the boys. Billie, tell Yankie to have +that done. The rifles are racked up in the calf wagon." + +Billie delivered the orders of the drover to the foreman as they passed +on their way to the remuda. Joe gave a snort of derision, but let it go +at that. When Homer Webb was with one of his trail outfits he was always +its boss. + +While Thursday watched him, Prince roped out a cinnamon horse from the +remuda. The cowpuncher was a long-bodied man, smooth-muscled and lithe. +The boy had liked his level eye and his clean, brown jaw before, just as +now he approved the swift economy of his motions. + +Probably Billie was about twenty years of age, but in that country +men ripened young. Both of these lads had been brought up in that +rough-and-ready school of life which holds open session every day of the +year. Both had already given proofs of their ability to look out for +themselves in emergency. A wise, cool head rested on each of these pairs +of young shoulders. In this connection it is worth mentioning that the +West's most famous outlaw, Billie the Kid, a killer with twenty-one +notches on his gun, had just reached his majority when he met his death +some years later at the hands of Pat Garrett. + +The new rider for the Flying V Y outfit did not accept the judgment of +Prince without confirming it. He examined the hoofs of the horse and felt +its legs carefully. He looked well to its ears to make sure that ticks +from the mesquite had not infected the silky inner flesh. + +"A good bronc, looks like," he commented. + +"One of the fastest in the remuda--not very gentle, though." + +Thursday picked the witches' bridles from its mane before he saddled. As +his foot found the stirrup the cinnamon rose into the air, humped its +back, and came down with all four legs stiff. The quirt burned its flank, +and the animal went up again to whirl round in the air. The boy stuck to +the saddle and let out a joyous whoop. The battle was on. + +Suddenly as it had begun the contest ended. With the unreasoning impulse +of the half-broken cowpony the cinnamon subsided to gentle obedience. + +The two riders cantered across the prairie in the direction of the Indian +camp. That the Apaches were still there Thursday thought altogether +likely, for he knew that it takes a week to make mescal. No doubt the +raiders had stopped to hold a jamboree over the success of their +outbreak. + +The scouts from the cattle herd deflected toward a butte that pushed out +as a salient into the plain. From its crest they could get a sweeping +view of the valley. + +"There's a gulch back of it that leads to old man Roubideau's place," +explained Prince. "Last time we were on this Pecos drive the boss stopped +an' bought a bunch of three-year-olds from him. He's got a daughter +that's sure a pippin, old man Roubideau has. Shoot, ride, rope--that +girl's got a lot of these alleged bullwhackers beat a mile at any one of +'em." + +Thursday did not answer. He had left the saddle and was examining the +ground carefully. Billie joined him. In the soft sand of the wash were +tracks of horses' hoofs. Patiently the trailer followed them foot by foot +to the point where they left the dry creek-bed and swung up the broken +bank to a swale. + +"Probably Roubideau and his son Jean after strays," suggested Prince. + +"No. Notice this track here, how it's broken off at the edge. When I cut +Indian sign yesterday, this was one of those I saw." + +"Then these are 'Paches too?" + +"Yes." + +"Goin' to the Roubideau place." The voice of Billie was low and husky. +His brown young face had been stricken gray. Bleak fear lay in the gray +eyes. His companion knew he was thinking of the girl. "How many of 'em do +you make out?" + +"Six or seven. Not sure which." + +"How old?" + +"They passed here not an hour since." + +It was as if a light of hope had been lit in the face of the young man. +"Mebbe there's time to help yet. Kid, I'm goin' in." + +Jim Thursday made no reply, unless it was one to vault to the saddle and +put his horse to the gallop. They rode side by side, silently and +alertly, rifles across the saddle-horns in their hands. The boy from +Arizona looked at his new friend with an increase of respect. This was, +of course, a piece of magnificent folly. What could two boys do against +half a dozen wily savages? But it was the sort of madness that he loved. +His soul went out in a gush of warm, boyish admiration to Billie Prince. +It was the beginning of a friendship that was to endure, in spite of +rivalry and division and misunderstanding, through many turbid years of +trouble. This was no affair of theirs. Webb had sent them out to protect +the cattle drive. They were neglecting his business for the sake of an +adventure that might very well mean the death of both of them. But it was +characteristic of Thursday that it never even occurred to him to let +Prince take the chance alone. Even in the days to come, when his name was +anathema in the land, nobody ever charged that he would not go through +with a comrade. + +There drifted to them presently the faint sound of a shot. It was +followed by a second and a third. + +"The fight's on," cried Thursday. + +Billie's quirt stung the flank of his pony. Near the entrance to the +cañon his companion caught up with him. From the rock walls of the gulch +came to them booming echoes of rifles in action. + +"Roubideau must be standin' 'em off," shouted Prince. + +"Can we take the 'Paches by surprise? Is there any other way into the +cañon?" + +"Don't know. Can't stop to find out. I'm goin' straight up the road." + +The younger man offered no protest. It might well be that the ranchman +was in desperate case and in need of immediate help to save his family. +Anyhow, the decision was out of his hands. + +The horses pounded forward and swept round a curve of the gulch into +sight of the ranch. In a semicircle, crouched behind the shelter of +boulders and cottonwoods, the Indian line stretched across the gorge and +along one wall. The buildings lay in a little valley, where an arroyo ran +down at a right angle and broke the rock escarpment. A spurt of smoke +came from a window of the stable as the rescuers galloped into view. + +One of the Apaches caught sight of them and gave a guttural shout of +warning. His gun jumped to the shoulder and simultaneously the bullet was +on its way. But no living man could throw a shot quicker than Jim +Thursday, if the stories still told of him around camp-fires are true. +Now he did not wait to take sight, but fired from his hip. The Indian +rose, half-turned, and fell forward across the boulder, his naked body +shining in the sun. By a hundredth part of a second the white boy had +out-speeded him. + +The riders flung themselves from their horses and ran for cover. + +The very audacity of their attack had its effect. The Indians guessed +these two were the advance guard of a larger party which had caught them +in a trap. Between two fires, with one line of retreat cut off, the +bronco Apaches wasted no time in deliberation. They made a rush for their +horses, mounted, and flew headlong toward the arroyo, their bodies lying +low on the backs of the ponies. + +The Indians rode superbly, their bare, sinewy legs gripping even to the +moccasined feet the sides of the ponies. Without saddle or bridle, except +for the simple nose rope, they guided their mounts surely, the brown +bodies rising and falling in perfect accord with the motion of the +horses. + +A shot from the stable hit one as he galloped past. While his horse was +splashing through the creek the Mescalero slid slowly down, head first, +into the brawling water. + +Billie took a long, steady aim and fired. A horse stumbled and went down, +flinging the rider over its head. With a "Yip--Yip!" of triumph Thursday +drew a bead on the man as he rose and dodged forward. Just as the boy +fired a sharp pain stung his foot. One of the escaping natives had +wounded him. + +The dismounted man ran forward a few steps and pulled himself to the back +of a pony already carrying one rider. Something in the man's gait and +costume struck Prince. + +"That fellow's no Injun," he called to his friend. + +"Look!" Thursday was pointing to the saddle-back between two peaks at the +head of the arroyo. + +A girl on horseback had just come over the summit and stood silhouetted +against the sky. Even in that moment while they watched her she realized +for the first time her danger. She turned to fly, and she and her horse +disappeared down the opposite slope. The Mescaleros swept up the hill +toward her. + +"They'll git her! They'll sure git her!" cried Billie, making for his +horse. + +The younger man ran limping to his cinnamon. At every step he winced, and +again while his weight rested on the wounded foot as he dragged himself +to the saddle. A dozen yards behind his companion he sent his horse +splashing through the creek. + +The cowponies, used to the heavy going in the hills, took the slope in +short, quick plunges. Neither of the young men used the spur, for the +chase might develop into a long one with stamina the deciding factor. The +mesquite was heavy and the hill steep, but presently they struck a cattle +run which led to the divide. + +Two of the Apaches stopped at the summit for a shot at their pursuers, +but neither of the young men wasted powder in answer. They knew that +close-range work would prove far more deadly and that only a chance hit +could serve them now. + +From Billie, who had reached the crest first, came a cry of dismay. His +partner, a moment later, knew the reason for it. One of the Apaches, +racing across the valley below, was almost at the heels of the girl. + +The cowpunchers flung their ponies down the sharp incline recklessly. The +animals were sure-footed as mountain goats. Otherwise they could never +have reached the valley right side up. It was a stretch of broken shale +with much loose rubble. The soft sandstone farther along had eroded and +there was a great deal of slack débris down which the horses slipped and +slid, now on their haunches and again on all fours. + +The valley stretched for a mile before them and terminated at a rock wall +into which, no doubt, one or more cañons cut like sword clefts. The +cowpunchers had picked mounts, but it was plain they could not overhaul +the Apaches before the Indians captured the girl. + +Billie, even while galloping at full speed, began a long-distance fire +upon the enemy. One of the Mescaleros had caught the bridle of the young +woman's horse and was stopping the animal. It looked for a moment as if +the raiders were going to make a stand, but presently their purpose +became clear to those in pursuit. The one that Billie had picked for a +renegade white dropped from the horse upon which he was riding double and +swung up behind the captive. The huddle of men and ponies opened up and +was in motion again toward the head of the valley. + +But though the transfer had been rapid, it had taken time. The pursuers, +thundering across the valley, had gained fast. Rifles barked back and +forth angrily. + +The Indians swerved sharply to the left for the mouth of a cañon. Here +they pulled up to check the cowboys, who slid from their saddles to use +their ponies for protection. + +"That gorge to the right is called Escondido Cañon," explained Prince. +"We combed it for cattle last year. About three miles up it runs into the +one where the 'Paches are! Don't remember the name of that one." + +"I'll give it a new name," answered the boy. He raised his rifle, rested +it across the back of his pony, and took careful aim. An Indian plunged +from his horse. "Shoot-a-Buck Cañon--how'll that do for a name?" inquired +Thursday with a grin. + +Prince let out a whoop. "You got him right. He'll never smile again. +Shoot-a-Buck Cañon goes." + +The Indians evidently held a hurried consultation and changed their minds +about holding the gorge against such deadly shooting as this. + +"They're gun-shy," announced Thursday. "They don't like the way we fog +'em and they're goin' to hit the trail, Billie." + +After one more shot Prince made the mistake of leaving the shelter of his +horse too soon. He swung astride and found the stirrup. A puff of smoke +came from the entrance to the gulch. Billie turned to his friend with a +puzzled, sickly smile on his face. "They got me, kid." + +"Bad?" + +The cowboy began to sag in the saddle. His friend helped him to the +ground. The wound was in the thigh. + +"I'll tie it up for you an' you'll be good as new," promised his friend. + +The older man looked toward the gorge. No Indians were in sight. + +"I can wait, but that little girl in the hands of those devils can't. Are +you game to play a lone hand, kid?" he asked. + +"I reckon." + +"Then ride hell-for-leather up Escondido. It's shorter than the way they +took. Where the gulches come together be waitin' an' git 'em from the +brush. There's just one slim chance you'll make it an' come back alive." + +The boy's eyes were shining. "Suits me fine. I'll go earn that name I +christened myself--Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em." + +Billie, his face twisted with pain, watched the youngster disappear at a +breakneck gallop into Escondido. + + + + +Chapter III + +Ranse Roush Pays + + +Jim Thursday knew that his sole chance of success lay in reaching the +fork of the cañons before the Indians. So far he had been lucky. Three +Apaches had gone to their happy hunting ground, and though both he and +Billie were wounded, his hurt at least did not interfere with accurate +rifle-fire. But it was not reasonable to expect such good fortune to +hold. In the party he was pursuing were four men, all of them used to +warfare in the open. Unless he could take them at a disadvantage he could +not by any possibility defeat them and rescue their captive. + +His cinnamon pony took the rising ground at a steady gallop. Its stride +did not falter, though its breathing was labored. Occasionally the rider +touched its flank with the sharp rowel of a spur. The boy was a lover of +horses. He had ridden too many dry desert stretches, had too often kept +night watch over a sleeping herd, not to care for the faithful and +efficient animal that served him and was a companion to his loneliness. +Like many plainsmen he made of his mount a friend. + +But he dared not spare his pony now. He must ride the heart out of the +gallant brute for the sake of that life he had come to save. And while he +urged it on, his hand patted the sweat-stained neck and his low voice +sympathized. + +"You've got to go to it, old fellow, if it kills you," he said aloud. "We +got to save that girl for Billie, ain't we? We can't let those red devils +take her away, can we?" + +It was a rough cattle trail he followed, strewn here with boulders and +there tilted down at breakneck angle of slippery shale. Sometimes it fell +abruptly into washes and more than once rose so sharply that a heather +cat could scarce have clambered up. But Thursday flung his horse +recklessly at the path, taking chances of a fall that might end the mad +race. He could not wait to pick a way. His one hope lay in speed, in +reaching the fork before the enemy. He sacrificed everything to that. + +From the top of a sharp pitch he looked down into the twin cañon of +Escondido. A sharp bend cut off the view to the left, so that he could +see for only seventy-five or a hundred yards. But his glance followed the +gulch up for half a mile and found no sign of life. He was in time. + +Swiftly he made his preparations. First he led the exhausted horse back +to a clump of young cottonwoods and tied it safely. From its place beside +the saddle he took the muley gun and with the rifle in his other hand he +limped swiftly back to the trail. Every step was torture, but he could +not stop to think of that now. His quick eye picked a perfect spot for an +ambush where a great rock leaned against another at the edge of the +bluff. Between the two was a narrow opening through which he could +command the bend in the trail below. To enlarge this he scooped out the +dirt with his fingers then reloaded the rifle and thrust it into the +crevice. The sawed-off shotgun lay close to his hand. + +Till now he had found no time to get nervous, but as the minutes passed +he began to tremble violently and to whimper. In spite of his experience +he was only a boy and until to-day had never killed a man. + +"Doggone it, if I ain't done gone an' got buck fever," he reproached +himself. "I reckon it's because Billie Prince ain't here that I'm so +scairt. I wisht I had a drink, so as I'd be right when the old muley gun +gits to barkin'." + +A faint sound, almost indistinguishable, echoed up the gulch to him. +Miraculously his nervousness vanished. Every nerve was keyed up, every +muscle tense, but he was cool as water in a mountain stream. + +The sound repeated itself, a faint tinkle of gravel rolling from a trail +beneath the hoof of a horse. At the last moment Thursday changed his mind +and substituted the shotgun for the rifle. + +"Old muley she spatters all over the State of Texas. I might git two at +once," he muttered. + +The light, distant murmur of voices reached him. His trained ear told him +just how far away the speakers were. + +An Apache rounded the bend, a tall, slender young brave wearing only a +low-cut breech-cloth and a pair of moccasins. Around his waist was +strapped a belt full of cartridges and from it projected the handle of a +long Mexican knife. The brown body of the youth was lithe and graceful as +that of a panther. He was smiling over his shoulder at the next rider in +line, a heavy-set, squat figure on a round-bellied pinto. That smile was +to go out presently like the flame of a blown candle. A third Mescalero +followed. Like that of the others, his coarse, black hair fell to the +shoulders, free except for a band that encircled the forehead. + +Still the boy did not fire. He waited till the last of the party +appeared, a man in fringed buckskin breeches and hickory shirt riding +pillion behind a young woman. Both of these were white. + +The sawed-off gun of Thursday covered the second rider carefully. Before +the sound of the shot boomed down the gorge the Apache was lifted from +the bare back of the pony. The heavy charge of buckshot had riddled him +through and through. + +Instantly the slim, young brave in the lead dug his heels into the flank +of his pony, swung low to the far side so that only a leg was visible, +and flew arrow-straight up the cañon for safety. Thursday let him go. + +Twice his rifle rang out. At that distance it was impossible for a good +shot to miss. One bullet passed through the head of the third Mescalero. +The other brought down the pony upon which the whites were riding. + +The fall of the horse flung the girl free, but the foot of her captor was +caught between the saddle and the ground. Thursday drew a bead on him +while he lay there helpless, but some impulse of mercy held his hand. The +man was that creature accursed in the border land, a renegade who has +turned his face against his own race and must to prove his sincerity to +the tribe out-Apache an Apache at cruelty. Still, he was white after +all--and Jim Thursday was only eighteen. + +Rifle in hand the boy clambered down the jagged rock wall to the dry +river-bed below. The foot of his high-heeled boot was soggy with blood, +but for the present he had to ignore the pain messages that throbbed to +his brain. The business on hand would not wait. + +While Thursday was still slipping down from one outcropping ledge of rock +to another, a plunge of the wounded horse freed the renegade. The man +scrambled to his feet and ran shakily for the shelter of a boulder. In +his hurry to reach cover he did not stop to get the rifle that had been +flung a few yards from him when he fell. + +The boy caught one glimpse of that evil, fear-racked face. The blood +flushed his veins with a surge of triumph. He was filled with the savage, +primitive exultation of the head-hunter. For four years he had slept on +the trail of this man and had at last found him. The scout had fought the +Apaches impersonally, without rancor, because a call had come to him that +he could not ignore. But now the lust of blood was on him. He had become +that cold, implacable thing known throughout the West as a "killer." + +The merciless caution that dictates the methods of a killer animated his +movements now. Across the gulch, nearly one hundred and fifty yards from +him, the renegade lay crouched. A hunched shoulder was just visible. + +Thursday edged carefully along the ledge. He felt for holds with his hand +and feet, for not once did his gaze lift from that patch of hickory +shirt. The eyes of the boy had narrowed to slits of deadly light. He was +wary as a hungry wolf and as dangerous. That the girl had disappeared +around the bend he did not know. His brain functioned for just one +purpose--to get the enemy with whom he had come at last to grips. + +As the boy crept along the rock face for a better view of his victim, the +minutes fled. Five of them--ten--a quarter of an hour passed. The +renegade lay motionless. Perhaps he hoped that his location was unknown. + +The man-hunter on the ledge flung a bullet against the protecting +boulder. His laugh of cruel derision drifted across the cañon. + +"Run to earth at last, Ranse Roush!" he shouted, "I swore I'd camp on +your trail till I got you--you an' the rest of yore poison tribe." + +From the trapped wretch quavered back a protest. + +"Goddlemighty, I ain't done nothin' to you-all. Lemme explain." + +"Before you do any explainin' mebbe you'd better guess who it is that's +goin' to send yore cowardly soul to hell inside of five minutes." + +"If you're some kin to that gal on the hawss with me, why, I'll tell you +the honest-to-God truth. I was aimin' to save her from the 'Paches when I +got a chanct. Come on down an' let's we-uns talk it over reasonable." + +The boy laughed again, but there was something very far from mirth in the +sound of that chill laughter. "If you won't guess I'll have to tell you +Ever hear of the Clantons, Ranse Roush? I'm one of 'em. Now you know what +chance you got to talk yoreself out of this thing." + +"I--I'm glad to meet up with you-all. I got to admit that the Roush clan +is dirt mean. Tha's why I broke away from 'em. Tha's why I come out here. +You Clantons is all right. I never did go in for this bushwhackin' with +Dave an' Hugh. I never--" + +"You're a born liar like the rest of yore wolf tribe. You come out here +because the country got too hot to hold you after what you did to 'Lindy +Clanton. I might 'a' knowed I'd find you with the 'Paches. You allus was +low-mixed Injun." The boy had fallen into the hill vernacular to which he +had been born. He was once more a tribal feudist of the border land. + +"I swear I hadn't a thing to do with that," the man cried eagerly. "You +shore done got that wrong. Dave an' Hugh done that. They're a bad lot. +When I found out about 'Lindy Clanton I quarreled with 'em an' we-all +split up company. Tha's the way of it." + +"You're ce'tainly in bad luck then," the boy shouted back tauntingly. +"For I aim to stomp you out like I would a copperhead." Very distinctly +he added his explanation. "I'm 'Lindy Clanton's brother." + +Roush begged for his life. He groveled in the dust. He promised to +reform, to leave the country, to do anything that was asked of him. + +"Go ahead. It's meat an' drink to me to hear a Roush whine. I got all day +to this job, but I aim to do it thorough," jeered Clanton. + +A bullet flattened itself against the rock wall ten feet below the boy. +In despair the man was shooting wildly with his revolver. He knew there +was no use in pleading, that his day of judgment had come. + +Young Clanton laughed in mockery. "Try again, Roush. You ain't quite got +the range." + +The man made a bolt for the bend in the cañon a hundred yards away. +Instantly the rifle leaped to the shoulder of the boy. + +"Right in front of you, Roush," he prophesied. + +The bullet kicked up the dust at the feet of the running man. The nerve +of Roush failed him and he took cover again behind a scrub live-oak. A +memory had flashed to him of the day when he had seen a thirteen-year-old +boy named Jim Clanton win a turkey shoot against the best marksmen of +the hill country. + +The army Colt spit out once more at the boy on the ledge. Before the echo +had died away the boom of an explosion filled the cañon. Roush pitched +forward on his face. + +Jim Clanton lowered his rifle with an exclamation. His face was a picture +of amazement. Some one had stolen his vengeance from him by a hair's +breadth. + +Two men came round the bend on horseback. Behind them rode a girl. She +was mounted on the barebacked pinto of the Indian Clanton had killed +with the shotgun. + +The boy clambered down to the bed of the gulch and limped toward them. +The color had ebbed from his lips. At every step a pain shot through his +leg. But in spite of his growing weakness anger blazed in the light-blue +eyes. + +"I waited four years to git him. I kept the trail hot from Tucson to +Vegas an' back to Santone. An' now, doggone it, when my finger was on the +trigger an' the coyote as good as dead, you cut in an' shoot the +daylights out of him. By gum, it ain't fair!" + +The older man looked at him in astonishment. "But he is only a child, +Polly! Cela me passe!" + +"Mebbe I am only a kid," the boy retorted resentfully. "But I reckon I'm +man enough to handle any Roush that ever lived. I wasn't askin' for help +from you-uns that I heerd tell of." + +The younger man laughed. He was six or seven years older than the girl, +who could not have been more than seventeen. Both of them bore a marked +likeness to the middle-aged man who had spoken. Jim guessed that this was +the Roubideau family of whom Billie Prince had told him. + +"Just out of the cradle, by Christmas, and he's killed four 'Paches +inside of an hour an' treed a renegade to boot," said young Roubideau. +"I'd call it a day's work, kid, for it sure beats all records ever I knew +hung up by one man." + +The admiration of the young rancher was patent. He could not take his +eyes from the youthful phenomenon. + +"He's wounded, father," the girl said in a low voice. + +The boy looked at her and his anger died away. "Billie sent me up the +gulch when he was shot. He 'lowed it was up to me to git you back from +those devils, seein' as he couldn't go himself." + +Polly nodded. She seemed to be the kind of girl that understands without +being told in detail. + +Before Thursday could protect himself, Roubideau, senior, had seized him +in his arms, embraced him, and kissed first one cheek and then the other. +"Eh bien! But you are the brave boy! I count it honor to know you. My +little Polly, have you not save her? Ah! But I forget the introductions. +Myself, I am Pierre Roubideau, à tout propos at your service. My son +Jean. Pauline--what you call our babie." + +"My real name is Jim Clanton," answered the boy. "I've been passin' by +that of 'Thursday' so that none of the Roush outfit would know I was in +the country till I met up face to face with 'em." + +"Clanton! It is a name we shall remember in our prayers, n'est-ce pas, +Polly?" Pierre choked up and wrung fervently the hand of the youngster. + +Clanton was both embarrassed and wary. He did not know at what moment +Roubideau would disgrace him by attempting another embrace. There was +something in the Frenchman's eye that told of an emotion not yet expended +fully. + +"Oh, shucks; you make a heap of fuss about nothin'," he grumbled. "Didn't +I tell you it was Billie Prince sent me? An' say, I got a pill in my +foot. Kindness of one of them dad-gummed Mescaleros. I hate to walk on +that laig. I wish yore boy would go up on the bluff an' look after my +horse. I 'most rode it to death, I reckon, comin' up the cañon. An' +there's a sawed-off shotgun. He'll find it..." + +For a few moments the ground had been going up and down in waves before +the eyes of the boy. Now he clutched at a stirrup leather for support, +but his fingers could not seem to find it. Before he could steady himself +the bed of the dry creek rose up and hit him in the head. + + + + +Chapter IV + +Pauline Roubideau Says "Thank You." + + +Jimmie Clanton slid back from unconsciousness to a world the center of +which was a girl sitting on a rock with his rifle across her knees. The +picture did not at first associate itself with any previous experience. +She was a brown, slim young thing in a calico print that fitted snugly +the soft lines of her immature figure. The boy watched her shyly and +wondered at the quiet self-reliance of her. She was keeping guard over +him, and there was about her a cool vigilance that went oddly with the +small, piquant face and the tumbled mass of curly chestnut hair that had +fallen in a cascade across her shoulders. + +"Where are yore folks?" he asked presently. + +She turned her head slowly and looked at him. Southern suns had sprinkled +beneath her eyes a myriad of powdered freckles. She met his gaze +fairly, with a boyish directness and candor. + +"Jean has ridden out to tell your friends about you and Mr. Prince. +Father has gone back to the house to fix up a travois to carry you." + +"Sho! I can ride." + +"There's no need of it. You must have lost a great deal of blood." + +He looked down at his foot and saw that the boot had been cut away. A +bandage of calico had been tied around the wound. He guessed that the +girl had sacrificed part of a skirt. + +"And you stayed here to see the 'Paches didn't play with me whilst yore +father was gone," he told her. + +"There wasn't any danger, of course. The only one that escaped is miles +away from here. But we didn't like to leave you alone." + +"That's right good of you." + +Her soft, brown eyes met his again. They poured upon him the gift of +passionate gratitude she could not put into words. It was from something +much more horrible than death that he had snatched her. One moment she +had been a creature crushed, leaden despair in her heart. Then the +miracle had flashed down from the sky. She was free, astride the pinto, +galloping for home. + +"Yes, you owe us much." There was a note of light sarcasm in her clear, +young voice, but the feeling in her heart swept it away in an emotional +rush of words from the tongue of her father. "Vous avez pris le fait et +cause pour moi. Sans vous j'étais perdu." + +"You're French," he said. + +"My father is, not my mother. She was from Tennessee." + +"I'm from the South, too." + +"You didn't need to tell me that," she answered with a little smile. + +"Oh, I'm a Westerner now, but you ought to have heerd me talk when I +first came out." He broached a grievance. "Say, will you tell yore dad +not to do that again? I'm no kid." + +"Do what?" + +"You know." The red flamed into his face. "If it got out among the boys +what he'd done, I'd never hear the last of it." + +"You mean kissed you?" + +"Sure I do. That ain't no way to treat a fellow. I'm past eighteen if I +am small for my age. Nobody can pull the pat-you-on-the-head-sonny stuff +on me." + +"But you don't understand. That isn't it at all. My father is French. +That makes all the difference. When he kissed you it meant--oh, that he +honored and esteemed you because you fought for me." + +"I been tellin' you right along that Billie Prince is to blame. Let him +go an' kiss Billie an' see if he'll stand for it." + +A flash of roguishness brought out an unexpected dimple near the corner +of her insubordinate mouth. "We'll be good, all of us, and never do it +again. Cross our hearts." + +Young Clanton reddened beneath the tan. Without looking at her he felt +the look she tilted sideways at him from under the long, curved lashes. +Of course she was laughing at him. He knew that much, even though he +lacked the experience to meet her in kind. Oddly enough, there pricked +through his embarrassment a delicious little tingle of delight. So long +as she took him in as a partner of her gayety she might make as much fun +of him as she pleased. + +But the owlish dignity of his age would not let him drop the subject +without further explanation. "It's all right for yore dad to much you. I +reckon a girl kinder runs to kisses an' such doggoned foolishness. But a +man's different. He don't go in for it." + +"Oh, doesn't he?" asked Polly demurely. She did not think it necessary to +mention that every unmarried man who came to the ranch wanted to make +love to her before he left. "I'm glad you told me, because I'm only a +girl and I don't know much about it. And since you're a man, of course +you know." + +"That's the way it is," he assured her, solemn as a pouter. + +She bit her lip to keep from laughing out, but on the heels of her mirth +came a swift reproach. In his knowledge of life he might be a boy, but in +one way at least he had proved himself a man. He had taken his life in +his hands and ridden to save her without a second thought. He had fought +a good fight, one that would be a story worth telling when she had become +an old woman with grandchildren at her knee. + +"Does your foot hurt you much?" she asked gently. + +"It sort o' keeps my memory jogged up. It's a kind of forget-me-not +souvenir, for a good boy, compliments of a Mescalero buck, name unknown, +probably now permanently retired from his business of raisin' Cain. But +it might be a heap worse. They would've been glad to collect our scalps +if it hadn't been onconvenient, I expect." + +"Yes," she agreed gravely. + +He sat up abruptly. "Say, what about Billie? I left him wounded outside. +Did yore folks find him?" + +"Yes. It seems the Apaches trapped them in the stable. They roped horses +and came straight for the cañon. They found Mr. Prince, but they had +no time to stop then. Father is looking after him now. He said he was +going to take him to the house in the buckboard." + +"Is he badly hurt?" + +"Jean thinks he will be all right. Mr. Prince told him it was only a +flesh wound, but the muscles were so paralysed he couldn't get around." + +"The bullet did not strike an artery, then?" + +"My brother seemed to think not." + +"I reckon there's no doctor near." + +Her eyes twinkled. "Not very near. Our nearest neighbor lives on the +Pecos one hundred land seventeen miles away. But my father is as good as +a doctor any day of the week." + +"Likely you don't borrow coffee next door when you run out of it +onexpected. But don't you get lonesome?" + +"Haven't time," she told him cheerfully. "Besides, somebody going through +stops off every three or four months. Then we learn all the news." + +Jimmie glanced at her shyly and looked quickly away. This girl was not +like any woman he had known. Most of them were drab creatures with the +spirit washed out of them. His sister had been an exception. She had had +plenty of vitality, good looks and pride, but the somber shadow of her +environment had not made for gayety. It was different with Pauline +Roubideau. Though she had just escaped from terrible danger, laughter +bubbled up in her soft throat, mirth rippled over her mobile little face. +She expressed herself with swift, impulsive gestures at times. Then again +she suggested an inheritance of slow grace from the Southland of her +mother. + +He did not understand the contradictions of her and they worried him a +little. Billie had told him that she could rope and shoot as well as any +man. He had seen for himself that she was an expert rider. Her nerves +were good enough to sit beside him at quiet ease within a stone's throw +of three sprawling bodies from which she had seen the lusty life driven +scarce a half-hour since. Already he divined the boyish _camaraderie_ +that was so simple and direct an expression of good-will. And yet there +was something about her queer little smile he could not make out. It +hinted that she was really old enough to be his mother, that she was +heiress of wisdom handed down by her sex through all the generations. +As yet he had not found out that he was only a boy and she was a woman. + +*** + + +Chapter V + +No Four-Flusher + + +Pauline Roubideau knew the frontier code. She evinced no curiosity about +the past of this boy-man who had come into her life at the nick of time. +None the less she was eager to know what connection lay between him and +the renegade her brother had killed. She had heard Jim Clanton say that +he had waited four years for his revenge and had followed the man all +over the West. Why? What motive could be powerful enough with a boy of +fourteen to sway so completely his whole life toward vengeance? + +She set herself to find out without asking. Inside of ten minutes the +secret which had been locked so long in his warped soul had been confided +to her. The boy broke down when he told her the story of his sister's +death. He was greatly ashamed of himself for his emotion, but the touch +of her warm sympathy melted the ice in his heart and set him sobbing. + +Quickly she came across to him and knelt down by his side. + +"You poor boy! You poor, poor boy!" she murmured. + +Her arm crept round his shoulders with the infinitely tender caress of +the mother that lies, dormant or awake, in all good women. + +"I--I--I'm nothing but a baby," he gulped, trying desperately to master +his sobs. + +"Don't talk foolishness," she scolded to comfort him. "I wouldn't think +much of you if you didn't love your sister enough to cry for her." + +There were tears in her own eyes. Her lively young imagination pictured +vividly the desolation of the young hill girl betrayed so cruelly, the +swift decline of her stern, broken-hearted father. The thought of the +half-grown boy following the betrayers of his sister across the +continent, his life dedicated for years to vengeance, was a dreadful +thing to contemplate. It shocked her sense of all that was fitting. No +doubt his mission had become a religion with him. He had lain down at +night with that single purpose before him. He had risen with it in the +morning. It had been his companion throughout the day. From one season to +another he had cherished it when he should have been filled with the +happy, healthy play impulses natural to his age. + +The boy told the story of that man-hunt without a suspicion that there +was anything in it to outrage the feelings of the girl. + +"If it hadn't been for old Nance Cunningham, I reckon Devil Dave an' his +brothers would have fixed up some cock an' bull story about how 'Lindy +was drowned by accident. But folks heard Nance an' then wouldn't believe +a word they said. Dad swore us Clantons to wipe out the whole clan of +'em. Every last man in the hills that was decent got to cussin' the Roush +outfit. Their own friends turned their backs on all three. Then the +sheriff come up from the settlemint an' they jest naturally lit out. + +"I heerd tell they were in Arizona an' after dad died I took after 'em. +But seemed like I had no luck. When I struck their trail they had always +just gone. To-day I got Ranse--leastways I would'a' got him if yore +brother hadn't interfered. I'll meet up with the others one o' these +times. I'll git 'em too." + +He spoke with quiet conviction, as if it were a business matter that had +to be looked after. + +"Did you ever hear this: 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the +Lord'?" + +He nodded. "Dad used to read that to me. There's a heap in the Bible +about killin' yore enemies. Dad said that vengeance verse meant that +we-all was the Lord's deputies, like a sheriff has folks to help him, an' +we was certainly to repay the Roushes an' not to forgit interest +neither." + +The girl shook her head vigorously. "I don't think that's what it means +at all. If you'll read the verses above and below, you'll see it doesn't. +We're to feed our enemies when they are hungry. We're to do them good for +evil." + +"That's all right for common, every-day enemies, but the Roush clan ain't +that kind," explained the boy stubbornly. "It shore is laid on me to +destroy 'em root an' branch, like the Bible says." + +By the way he wagged his head he might have been a wise little old man. +The savage philosophy of the boy had been drawn in with his mother's +milk. It had been talked by his elders while as a child he drowsed before +the big fireplace on winter nights. After his sister's tragic death it +had been driven home by Bible texts and by a solemn oath of vengeance. +Was it likely that anything she could say would have weight with him? For +the present the girl gave up her resolve to convert him to a more +Christian point of view. + +The sun had sunk behind the cañon wall when Pierre Roubideau arrived with +a travois which he had hastily built. There was no wagon-road up the +gulch and it would have been difficult to get the buckboard in as far as +the fork over the broken terrain. As a voyageur of the North he had often +seen wounded men carried by the Indians in travois across the plains. He +knew, too, that the tribes of the Southwest use them. This one was +constructed of two sixteen-foot poles with a canvas lashed from one bar +to the other. The horse was harnessed between the ends of the shafts, the +other ends dragging on the ground. + +Clanton looked at this device distastefully. "I'm no squaw. Whyfor can't +I climb on its back an' ride?" + +"Because you are seeck. It iss of the importance that you do not exert +yourself. Voyons! You will be comfortable here. N'est-ce pas, Polly?" +Pierre gesticulated as he explained volubly. He even illustrated the +comfort by lying down in the travois himself and giving a dramatic +representation of sleep. + +The young man grumbled, but gave way reluctantly. + +"How's Billie Prince?" he asked presently from the cot where he lay. + +"He will hafe a fever, but soon he will be well again. I, Pierre, promise +it. For he iss of a good strength and sound as a dollar." + +Pauline, rifle in hand, scouted ahead of the travois and picked the +smoothest way down the rough ravine. The horse that Roubideau drove was +an old and patient one. Its master held it to a slow, even pace, so that +the wounded boy was jolted as little as possible. When they had reached +the entrance to the gorge, travel across the valley became less bumpy. + +The young girl walked as if she loved it. The fine, free swing of the +hill woman was in her step. She breasted the slope with the light grace +of a forest faun. Presently she dropped back to a place beside the +conveyance and smiled encouragement at him. + +"Pretty bad, is it?" + +He grinned back. "It's up to me to play the hand I've been dealt." + +That he was in a good deal of pain was easy to guess. + +"We're past the worst of it," Pauline told him, "Up this hill--down the +other side--and then we're home." + +The bawling of thirsty cattle and the blatting of calves could be heard +now. + +"It iss that Monsieur Webb has taken my advice to drive the herd up the +cañon and into the park for the night," explained Roubideau. "There iss +one way in, one way out. Guard the entrances and the 'Paches cannot +stampede the cattle. Voilà !" + +From the hill-top the leaders of the herd could be seen drinking at the +creek. Cattle behind were pushing forward to get at the water, while the +riders on the point and at the swing were directing the movement of the +beeves, now checking the steady pressure from the rear and now hastening +the pace of those dawdling in the stream. To add to the confusion cows +were mooing loudly for their off-spring not yet unloaded from the calf +wagon. + +Near the summit Jean with the buckboard met the party from the cañon. He +helped Clanton to the seat and drove to the house. + +Webb cantered up. "What's this I hear about you, Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em? They +tell me you've made four good Injuns to-day, shot up a renegade, rescued +this young lady here, 'most rode one of my horses to death, an' got stove +up in the foot yore own self. It certainly must have been yore busy +afternoon." + +The drover looked at him with a new respect. He had found the answer to +the question he had put himself a few hours earlier. This boy was no +four-flusher. He not only knew how and when to shoot, was game as a +bulldog, and keen as a weasel; he possessed, too, that sixth sense so +necessary to a gun-fighter, the instinct which shows him how to take +advantage of every factor in the situation so as to come through safely. + +"I didn't do it all," answered Clanton, flushing. "Billie helped, and the +Roubideaus got two of 'em." + +"That's not the way Billie tells it. Anyhow, you-all made a great gather +between you. Six 'Paches that will never smile again ought to give the +raiders a pain." + +"Don't you think we'd better get him to bed?" said Pauline gently. + +"You're shoutin', ma'am," agreed Webb. "Roubideau, the little boss says +Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em is to be put to bed. I'll tote him in if you'll +give my boys directions about throwin' the herd into yore park and +loose-herdin' 'em there." + +The Missourian picked up the wounded boy and followed Pauline into the +house. She led the way to her own little bedroom. It was the most +comfortable in the house and that was the one she wanted Jim Clanton to +have. + + + + +Chapter VI + +Billie Asks a Question + + +Roubideau rounded up next day his beef stock and sold two hundred head to +the drover. During the second day the riders were busy putting the road +brand on the cattle just bought. + +"Don't bust yore suspenders on this job, boys," Webb told his men. "I'd +just as lief lie up here for a few days while Uncle Sam is roundin' up +his pets camped out there. Old man Roubideau says we're welcome to stick +around. The feed's good. Our cattle are some gaunted with the drive. It +won't hurt a mite to let 'em stay right here a spell." + +But on the third day came news that induced the Missourian to change his +mind. Jean, who had been out as a scout, returned with the information +that a company of cavalry had come down from the fort and that the +Apaches had hastily decamped for parts unknown. + +"I reckon we'll throw into the trail again tomorrow, Joe," the drover +told Yankie. "No use wastin' time here if we don't have to stay. We'll +mosey along toward the river. Kinder take it easy an' drift the herd down +slow so as to let the cattle put on flesh. Billie an' the kid can join us +soon as they're fit to travel." + +The decision was announced on the porch of the Roubideau house. Its owner +and his daughter were present. So was Dad Wrayburn. The Texan old-timer +snorted as he rolled a cigarette. + +"Hm! Soft thing those two boys have got sittin' around an' bein' petted +by Miss Polly here. I've a notion to go an' bust my laig too. Will you +nurse me real tender, ma'am, if I get stove up pullin' off a grand-stand +play like they done?" + +"The hospital is full. We haven't got room for more invalids, Mr. +Wrayburn," laughed the girl. + +"Well, you let me know when there's a vacancy, Miss Polly. My sister gave +me a book to read onct. It was 'most twenty years ago. The name of it was +'Ivanhoe.' I told her I would save it to read when I broke my laig. Looks +like I never will git that book read." + +By daybreak the outfit was on the move. Yankie trailed the cattle out to +the plain and started them forward leisurely. Webb had allowed himself +plenty of time for the drive. The date set for delivery at the fort was +still distant and he wanted the beeves to be in first-class condition for +inspection. To reach the Pecos he was allowing three weeks, a programme +that would let him bed the herd down early and would permit of drifting +it slowly to graze for an hour or two a day. + +The weeks that followed were red-letter ones in the life of Jim Clanton. +They gave him his first glimpse of a family life which had for its basis +not only affection, but trust and understanding. He had never before seen +a household that really enjoyed little jokes shared in common, whose +members were full of kind consideration the one for the other. The +Roubideaus had more than a touch of the French temperament. They took +life gayly and whimsically, and though they poked all kinds of fun at +each other there was never any sting to their wit. + +Pauline was a famous little nurse. It was not long before she was +offering herself as a crutch to help young Clanton limp to the sunny +porch. Two or three days later Billie joined his fellow invalid. From +where they sat the two young men could hear the girl as she went about +her work singing. Often she came out with a plate of hot, new-baked +cookies for them and a pitcher of milk. Or she would dance out without +any excuse except that of her own frank interest in the youth she shared +with her patients. + +One of the Roubideau jokes was that Polly was the mother of the family +and her father and Jean two mischievous little boys she had to scold and +pet alternately. Temporarily she took the two cowpunchers into her circle +and browbeat them shamefully with an impudent little twinkle in her +eyes. Whatever the state of Billie's mind may have been before, there can +be no doubt that now he was fathoms deep in love. With hungry eyes he +took in her laughter and raillery, her boyish high spirits, the sweet +tenderness of the girl for her father. He loved her wholly--the charm of +her comradeship, of her swift, generous impulses, of that touch of +coquetry she could not entirely subdue. + +Pierre had been a chasseur in the Franco-Prussian War. His daughter was +very proud of it, but one of her games was to mock him fondly by +swaggering back and forth while she sang: + +"Allons, enfants de la patrie, +Le jour de gloire est arrivé." + +When she came to the chorus, nothing would do but all of them must join. +She taught the words and tune to Prince and Jimmie so that they could +fall into line behind the old soldier and his son: + +"Aux armes, citoyens! formez vos bataillons! + Marchons! Marchons! +Qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons." + +It always began in pretended derision, but as she swept her little +company down the porch all the gallant, imperishable soul of France spoke +in her ringing voice and the flash of her brown eyes. Surely her +patriotism was no less sound because the blood of Alsace and that of +Tennessee were fused in her ardent veins. + +The wounds of the young men healed rapidly, and both of them foresaw that +the day of their departure could no longer be postponed. Neither of them +was yet in condition to walk very far, but on horseback they were fit to +travel carefully. + +"We got all the time there is. No need of pushin' on the reins, but I +reckon the old man isn't payin' us fifty dollars a month to hold down the +Roubideau porch," said Prince regretfully. + +"No, we gotta light a shuck," admitted Jim, with no noticeable alacrity. +He was in no hurry to leave himself, even if he did not happen to be in +love. + +Billie put his fortune to the touch while he was out with Polly rounding +up some calves. They were riding knee to knee in the dust of the drag +through a small arroyo. + +The cowpuncher swallowed once or twice in a dry throat and blurted out, +"I got something to tell you before I go, Polly." + +The girl flashed a look at him. She recognized the symptoms. Her gaze +went back to the wavelike motion of the backs of the moving yearlings. + +"Don't, Billie," she said gently. + +Before he spoke again he thought over her advice. He knew he had his +answer. But he had to go through with it now. + +"I reckoned it would be that way. I'm nothin' but a rough vaquero. Whyfor +should you like me?" + +"Oh, but I do!" she cried impulsively. "I like you a great deal. You're +one of the best men I know--brave and good and modest. It isn't that; +Billie." + +"Is there--some one else? Or oughtn't I to ask that?" + +"No, there's nobody else. I'm awfully glad you like me. The girl that +gets you will be lucky. But I don't care about men that way. I want to +stay with dad and Jean." + +"Mebbe some day you may feel different about it." + +"Mebbe I will," she agreed. "Anyhow, I want you to stay friends with me. +You will, won't you?" + +"Sure. I'll be there just as long as you want me for a friend," he said +simply. + +She gave him her little gauntleted hand. They were close to a bend in the +draw. Soon they would be within sight of the house. + +"I'd say 'Yes' if I could, Billie. I'd rather it would be you than +anybody else. You won't feel bad, will you?" + +"Oh, that's all right." He smiled, and there was something about the +pluck of the eyes in the lean, tanned face that touched her. "I'm goin' +to keep right on carin' for my little pal even if I can't get what I +want." + +She had not yet fully emerged from her childhood. There was in her a +strong desire to comfort him somehow, to show by a mark of special favor +how high she held him in her esteem. + +"Would you--would you like to kiss me?" she asked simply. + +He felt a clamor of the blood and subdued it before he answered. It was +in accord with the charm she held for him that her frank generosity +enhanced his respect for her. If she gave a royal gift it was out of the +truth of her heart. + +Without need of words she read acceptance in his eyes and leaned toward +him in the saddle. Their lips met. + +"You're the first--except dad and Jean," she told him. + +The feeling in his primitive heart he could not have analyzed. He did not +know that his soul was moved to some such consecration as that of a young +knight taking his vow of service, though he was aware that all the good +in him leaped to instant response in her presence, that by some strange +spiritual alchemy he had passed through a refining process. + +"I'm comin' back to see you some day. Mebbe you'll feel different then," +he said. + +"I might," she admitted. + +They rounded the bend. Clanton, on horseback, caught sight of them. He +waved his hat and cantered forward. + +"Say, Billie, how much bacon do you reckon we need to take with us?" + +In front of the house Pauline slipped from her horse and left them +discussing the commissary. + + + + +Chapter VII + +On the Trail + + +The convalescents rode away into a desert green with spring. The fragrant +chaparral thickets were bursting into flower. Spanish bayonets studded +the plains. Everywhere about them was the promise of a new life not yet +burnt by hot summer suns to a crisp. + +During the day they ran into a swamp country and crossed a bayou where +cypress knees and blue gums showed fantastic in the eerie gloom of the +stagnant water. From this they emerged to a more wooded region and made +an early camp on the edge of a grove of ash trees bordering a small +stream where pecans grew thick. + +Shortly after daybreak they were jogging on at a walk-trot, the road gait +of the Southwest, into the treeless country of the prairie. They nooned +at an arroyo seco, and after they had eaten took a siesta during the heat +of the day. Night brought with it a thunderstorm and they took refuge in +a Mexican hut built of palisades and roofed with grass sod. A widow lived +alone in the jacal, but she made them welcome to the best she had. The +young men slept in a corner of the hut on a dry cowskin spread upon the +mud floor, their saddles for pillows and their blankets rolled about +them. + +While she was cooking their breakfast, Prince noticed the tears rolling +down her cheeks. She was a comely young woman and he asked her gallantly +in the bronco Spanish of the border if there was anything he could do to +relieve her distress. + +She shook her head mournfully. "No, señor," she answered in her native +tongue. "Only time can do that. I mourn my husband. He was a drunken +ne'er-do-well, but he was my man. So I mourn a fitting period. He died in +that corner of the room where you slept." + +"Indeed! When?" asked Billie politely. + +"Ten days ago. Of smallpox." + +The young men never ate that breakfast. They fled into the sunlight and +put many hurried miles between them and their amazed hostess. At the +first stream they stripped, bathed, washed their clothes, dipped the +saddles, and lay nude in the warm sand until their wearing apparel was +dry. + +For many days they joked each other about that headlong flight, but +underneath their gayety was a dread which persisted. + +"I'm like Doña Isabel with her grief. Only time can heal me of that scare +she threw into Billie Prince," the owner of that name confessed. + +"Me too," assented Clanton, helping himself to pinole. "I'll bet I lost a +year's growth, and me small at that." + +Prince had been in the employ of Webb for three years. During the long +hours when they rode side by side he told his companion much about the +Flying V Y outfit and its owner. + +"He's a straight-up man, Homer Webb is. His word is good all over Texas. +He'll sure do to take along," said Billie by way of recommendation. + +"And Joe Yankie--does he stack up A 1 too?" asked the boy dryly. + +"I never liked Joe. It ain't only that he'll run a sandy on you if he can +or that he's always ridin' any one that will stand to be picked on. Joe's +sure a bully. But then he's game enough, too, for that matter. I've seen +him fight like a pack of catamounts. Outside of that I've got a hunch +that he's crooked as a dog's hind leg. Mebbe I'm wrong, I'm tellin' you +how he strikes me. If I was Homer Webb, right now when trouble is comin' +up with the Snaith-McRobert outfit, I'd feel some dubious about Joe. He's +a sulky, revengeful brute, an' the old man has pulled him up with a tight +rein more'n once." + +"What do you mean--trouble with the Snaith-McRobert outfit?" + +"That's a long story. The bad feelin' started soon after the war when +Snaith an' the old man were brandin' mavericks. It kind of smouldered +along for a while, then broke out again when both of them began to bid +on Government beef contracts. There's been some shootin' back an' forth +an' there's liable to be a whole lot more. The Lazy S M--that's the +Snaith-McRobert brand--claims the whole Pecos country by priority. The +old man ain't recognizin' any such fool title. He's got more 'n thirty +thousand head of cattle there an' he'll fight for the grass if he has to. +O' course there's plenty of room for everybody if it wasn't for the beef +contracts an' the general bad feelin'." + +"Don't you reckon it will be settled peaceably? They'll get together an' +talk it over like reasonable folks." + +Billie shook his head. "The Lazy S M are bringin' in a lot of bad men +from Texas an' the Strip. Some of our boys ain't exactly gun-shy either. +One of these days there's sure goin' to be sudden trouble." + +"I'm no gunman," protested Clanton indignantly. "I hired out to the +old man to punch cows. Whyfor should I take any chances with the +Snaith-McRobert outfit when I ain't got a thing in the world against +them?" + +"No, you're no gunman," grinned his friend in amiable derision. +"Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em is a quiet little Sunday-go-to-meetin' kid. It was +kinder by accident that he bumped off four Apaches an' a halfbreed the +other day." + +"Now don't you blame me for that, Billie. You was hell-bent on goin' into +the Roubideau place an' I trailed along. When you got yore pill in the +laig you made me ride up the gulch alone. I claim I wasn't to blame for +them Mescaleros. I wasn't either." + +Prince had made his prophecy about the coming trouble lightly. He could +not guess that the most terrible feud in the history of the West was to +spring out of the quarrel between Snaith and Webb, a border war so grim +and deadly that within three years more than a hundred lusty men were to +fall in battle and from assassination. It would have amazed him to know +that the bullet which laid low the renegade in Shoot-a-Buck Cañon had set +the spark to the evil passions which resulted in what came to be called +the Washington County War. Least of all could he tell that the girl-faced +boy riding beside him was to become the best-known character of all the +desperate ones engaged in the trouble. + + + + +Chapter VIII + +The Fight + + +Half a dozen cowboys cantered up the main street of Los Portales in a +cloud of dust. One of them, older than the rest, let out the wild yell he +had known in the days when he rode with Quantrell's guerrillas on the +infamous raids of that bandit. A second flung into the blue sky three +rapid revolver shots. Plainly they were advertising the fact that they +had come to paint the town red and did not care who knew it. + +The riders pulled up abruptly in front of Tolleson's Gaming Palace & +Saloon, swung from their horses, and trailed with jingling spurs into +that oasis of refreshment. Each of them carried in his hand a rope. The +other end of the rawhide was tied to the horn of a saddle. + +A heavy-set, bow-legged man led the procession to the bar. He straddled +forward with a swagger. The bartender was busy dusting his stock. Before +the man had a chance to turn, the butt of a revolver hammered the +counter. + +"Get busy here! Set 'em up, Mike. And jump!" snarled the heavy man. + +The barkeeper took one look at him and filed no demurrer. "Bad man" was +writ on every line of the sullen, dissipated face of the bully. It was a +safe bet that he was used to having his own way, or failing that was +ready to fight at the drop of the hat. + +Swiftly the drinks were prepared. + +"Here 'show!" + +"How!" + +Every glass was tilted and emptied. + +It was high noon by the sun and Tolleson's was practically deserted. No +devotees sat round the faro, roulette, and keno tables. The dealers were +asleep in bed after their labors. So too were the dance girls. The poker +rooms upstairs held only the stale odor of tobacco and whiskey. Except +for a sleepy negro roustabout attendant and two young fellows at a table +well back from the bar, the cowboys had the big hall all to themselves. + +The bay was near the front of the barnlike room and to the right. To the +left, along the wall, were small tables. Farther back were those used for +gaming. In the rear one corner of the floor held a rostrum with seats for +musicians. The center of the hall was kept clear for dancing. Three steps +led to a door halfway back on the left-hand side of the building. They +communicated with an outer stairway by means of which one could reach the +poker rooms. + +The older of the two young men at the table nodded toward the roisterers +and murmured information. "Some of the Snaith-McRobert crowd." + +His companion was seated with his back to the bar. He had riot turned his +head to look at those lined up in front of the mirrors for drinks, but a +curious change had come over him. The relaxed body had grown rigid. No +longer was he lounging against the back of his chair. From his eyes the +laughter had been wiped out, as a wet sponge obliterates writing on a +slate. All his forces were gathered as if for instant action. He was +tense as a coiled spring. His friend noticed that the boy was listening +intently, every faculty concentrated at attention. + +A man leaning against the other end of the bar was speaking. He had a +shock of long red hair and a squint to his eyes. + +"Sure you're right. A bunch of Webb's gunmen got Ranse--caught him out +alone and riddled him. When Webb drove through here two days ago with +a herd, his killers bragged of it. Ask Harsha up at the Buffalo Corral if +youse don't believe me. Sure as hell's hot we got to go on the war-path. +Here, you Mike! Set 'em up again." + +The boy at the table had drawn back his lips so that the canine teeth +stood out like tusks. There was something wolfish about the face, from +which all the color had been driven. It expressed something so deadly, so +menacing, that the young man across from him felt a shock almost of fear. +"We'd better get out of here," he said, glancing toward the group near +the front door. + +The other young man did not answer, but he made no move to leave. He was +still taking in every syllable of what the drinkers were saying. + +The ex-guerrilla was talking. "Tha's sure sayin' something, Hugh. There +ain't room in New Mexico for Webb's outfit an' ours too." + +"Better go slow, boys," advised another. He was a thick-set man in the +late thirties, tight-lipped and heavy-jawed. His eyes were set so close +together that it gave him a sinister expression. "Talkin' don't get us +anywhere. If we're goin' to sit in a game with Homer Webb an' his +punchers we got to play our hand close." + +"Buck Sanders, segundo of the Lazy S M ranches," explained again the +young man at the table in a low voice. "Say, kid, let's beat it while +the goin' is good." + +The big bow-legged man answered the foreman. "You're right, Buck. So's +Hugh. So's the old rebel. I'm jus' servin' notice that no bunch of +shorthorn punchers can kill a brother of mine an' get away with it. +Un'erstand? I'll meet up with them some day an' I'll sure fog 'em to a +fare-you-well." He interlarded his speech with oaths and foul language. + +"I'll bet you do, Dave," chipped in the man next him, who had had a +run-in with the Texas Rangers and was on the outskirts of civilization +because the Lone Star State did not suit his health. "I would certainly +hate to be one of them when yore old six-gun begins to pop. It sure will +be Glory-hallelujah for some one." + +Dave Roush ordered another drink on the strength of the Texan's +admiration. "Mind, I don't say Ranse wasn't a good man. Mebbe I'm a +leetle mite better 'n him with a hogleg. Mebbe--" + +"Ranse was good with a revolver all right, but sho! you make him look +like a plugged nickel when you go to makin' smoke, Dave," interrupted the +toady. + +"Well, mebbe I do. Say I do. I ain't yet met up with a man can beat me +when I'm right. But at that Ranse was a mighty good man. They bushwhacked +him, I'll bet a stack of blues. I aim to git busy soon as I find out who +done it." + +The red-headed man raised his voice a trifle. "Say, you kid--there at the +table--come here an' hold these ropes! See you don't let the hawses at +the other end of 'em git away!" + +Slowly the boy turned, pushing his chair round so that he half-faced the +group before the bar. He neither rose nor answered. + +"Cayn't you-all hear?" demanded the man with the shock of unkempt, red +hair. + +"I hear, but I'm not comin' right away. When I do, you'll wish I hadn't." + +If a bomb had exploded at his feet Hugh Roush could not have been more +surprised. He was a big, rough man, muscular and sinewy, and he had been +the victor of many a rough-and-tumble fight. On account of his reputation +for quarrelsomeness men chose their words carefully when they spoke to +him. That this little fellow with the smooth, girlish face and the small, +almost womanish hands and feet should defy him was hard to believe. + +"Come a-runnin', kid, or I'll whale the life out of you!" he roared. + +"You didn't get me right," answered the boy in a low, clear voice. "I'm +not comin' till I get ready, Hugh Roush." + +The wolf snap of the boy's jaw, the cold glitter in his eyes, might have +warned Roush and perhaps did. He wondered, too, how this stranger knew +his name so well. + +"Where are you from?" he demanded. + +"From anywhere but here," + +"Meanin' that you're here to stay?" + +"Meanin' that I'm here to stay." + +"Even if I tell you to git out of the country?" + +"You won't be alive to tell me unless you talk right sudden." + +They watched each other, the man and the boy. Neither as yet made any +motion to draw his gun, the younger one because he was not ready, Roush +because he did not want to show any premature alarm before the men taking +in the scene. Nor could he yet convince himself, in spite of the +challenge that rang in the words of the boy, of serious danger from so +unlikely a source. + +Dave Roush had been watching the boy closely. A likeness to someone whom +he could not place stirred faintly his memory. + +"Who are you? What's yore name?" he snapped out. + +The boy had risen from the chair. His hand rested on his hip as if +casually. But Dave had observed the sureness of his motions and he +accepted nothing as of chance. The experience of Roush was that a gunman +lives longer if he is cautious. His fingers closed on the butt of the +revolver at his side. + +"My name is James Clanton." + +Roush let fall a surprised oath. "It's 'Lindy Clanton you look like! +You're her brother--the kid, Jimmie." + +"You've guessed it, Devil Dave." + +The eyes of the two crossed like rapiers. + +"Howcome you here? Whad you want?" asked Roush thickly. + +Already he had made up his mind to kill, but he wanted to choose his own +moment. The instinct of the killer is always to take his enemy at +advantage. Clanton, with that sixth sense which serves the fighter, read +his purpose as if he had printed it on a sign. + +"You know why I'm here--to stomp the life out of you an' yore brother for +what you done to my sister. I've listened to yore brags about what you +would do when you met up with them that killed Ranse Roush. Fine! Now +let's see you make good. I'm the man that ran him down an' put an end to +him. Go through, you four-flushin' coward! Come a-shootin' whenever +you're ready." + +The young Southerner had a definite motive in his jeering. He wanted to +drive his enemies to attack him before they could come at him from two +sides. + +"You--you killed Ranse?" + +"You heard me say it once." The eyes of the boy flashed for a moment to +the red-headed man. "Whyfor are you dodgin' back of the bar, Hugh +Roush? Ain't odds of two to one good enough for you--an' that one only a +kid--without you runnin' to cover like the coyote you are? Looks like +you'll soon be whinin' for me not to shoot, just like Ranse did." + +If any one had cared to notice, the colored roust-about might have been +seen at that moment vanishing out of the back door to a zone of safety. +He showed no evidence whatever of being sleepy. + +The silence that followed the words of the boy was broken by Quantrell's +old grayback. Dave Roush was a bad man--a killer. He had three notches on +his gun. Perhaps he had killed others before coming West. At any rate, he +was no fair match for this undersized boy. + +"He's a kid, Dave. You don't want to gun a kid. You, Clanton--whatever +you call yourself--light a shuck pronto--git out!" + +It is the habit of the killer to look for easy game. Out of the corner of +his eye the man who had betrayed 'Lindy Clanton saw that Hugh was edging +back of the bar and dragging out his gun. This boy could be killed safely +now, since they were two to one, both of them experts with the revolver. +To let him escape would be to live in constant danger for the future. + +"He's askin' for it, Reb. He's goin' to get it." + +Dave Roush pulled his gun, but before he could use it two shots rang out +almost simultaneously. The man at the corner of the bar had the +advantage. His revolver was in the clear before that of Clanton, but Jim +fired from the hip without apparent aim. The bullet was flung from the +barrel an imperceptible second before that of Roush. The gunman, hit in +the wrist of the right hand, gave a grunt and took shelter back of the +bar. + +The bystanders scurried for safety while explosion followed explosion. +Young Clanton, light-footed as a cat, side-stepped and danced about as +he fired. The first shot of the red-headed man had hit him and the shock +of it interfered with his accuracy. Hugh had disappeared, but above the +smoke the youngster still saw the cruel face of Devil Dave leering +triumphantly at him behind the pumping gun. + +The boy kept moving, so that his body did not offer a static target. He +concentrated his attention on Dave, throwing shot after shot at him. That +he would kill his enemy Clanton never had a doubt. It was firmly fixed in +his mind that he had been sent as the appointed executioner of the man. + +It was no surprise to Jim when the face of his sister's betrayer lurched +forward into the smoke. He heard Roush fall heavily to the floor and saw +the weapon hurled out of reach. The fellow lay limp and still. + +Clanton did not waste a second look at the fallen man. He knew that the +other Roush, crouched behind the bar, had been firing at him through the +woodwork. Now a bullet struck the wall back of his head. The red-headed +man had fired looking through a knot-hole. + +The boy's weapon covered a spot three inches above this. He fired +instantly. A splinter flew from a second hole just above the first. +Three long, noiseless strides brought Clanton to the end of the bar. The +red-headed man lay dead on the floor. The bullet had struck him just +above and between the eyes. + +"I reckon that ends the job." + +It was Jim's voice that said the words, though he hardly recognized it. +Overcome by a sudden nausea, he leaned against the bar for support. He +felt sick through and through. + + + + +Chapter IX + +Billie Stands Pat + + +Clanton came back out of the haze to find his friend's arm around his +waist, the sound of his strong, cheerful voice in his ears. + +"Steady, old fellow, steady. Where did they hit you, Jim?" + +"In the shoulder. I'm sick." + +Billie supported him to a chair and called to the bartender, who was +cautiously rising from a prone position behind the bar. "Bring a glass of +water, Mike." + +The wounded man drank the water, and presently the sickness passed. He +saw a little crowd gather. Some of them carried out the body of Hugh +Roush. They returned for that of his brother. + +"Dave ain't dead yet. He's still breathing," one of the men said. + +"Not dead!" exclaimed Clanton. "Did you say he wasn't dead?" + +"Now, don't you worry about that," cautioned Prince. "Looks to me like +you sure got him. Anyhow, it ain't your fault. You were that quiet and +game and cool. I never saw the beat." + +The admiration of his partner did not comfort Jim. He was suspiciously +near a breakdown. "Why didn't I take another crack at him when I had the +chance?" he whimpered. "I been waitin' all these years, an' now--" + +"I tell you he hasn't a chance in a thousand, Jim. You did the job +thorough. He's got his," + +Prince had been intending to say more, but he changed his mind. Half a +dozen men were coming toward them from the front door. Buck Sanders was +one of them, Quantrell's trooper another. Their manner looked like +business. + +Sanders was the spokesman. "You boys ride for the Flying V Y, don't you?" +he asked curtly. + +"We do," answered Billie, and his voice was just as cold. It had in it +the snap of a whiplash. + +"You came in here to pick trouble with us. Your pardner--Clanton, +whatever his name is--gave it out straight that he was goin' to kill +Roush." + +"He didn't mention you, did he?" + +"The Roush brothers were in our party. We ride for the Lazy S M. We don't +make distinctions." + +"Don't you? Listen," advised Prince. In five sentences he sketched the +cause of the trouble between Jim Clanton and the Roush brothers. "My +bunkie didn't kill any of the Roush clan because they worked for Snaith +and McRobert. He shot them for the reason I've just given you. That's his +business. It was a private feud of his own. You heard what was said +before the shootin' began," he concluded. + +"Tha's what you say. You'll tell us, too, that he got Ranse Roush in a +fair fight. But you've got to show us proof," Sanders said with a sneer. + +"I expect just now you'll have to take my word and his. I'll tell you +this. Ranse Roush was a renegade. He was ridin' with a bunch of bronco +bucks. They attacked the Roubideau place an' we rode--Jim an' I did--to +help Pierre an' his family. We drove the 'Paches off, but they picked up +Miss Pauline while she was out ridin' alone. We took after 'em. I got +wounded an' Jim here went up a gulch lickety-split to catch the red +devils. He got four 'Paches an' one hell-hound of a renegade. Is there a +white man here that blames him for it?" + +When all is said, the prince of deadly weapons at close range is the +human eye. Billie was standing beside his friend, one hand resting +lightly on his shoulder. The cowpuncher was as lithe and clean of build +as a mastiff, but it was the steady candor of his honest eye that spoke +most potently. + +"Naturally you tell a good story," retorted the foreman with dry +incredulity. "It's up to you to come through with an explanation of why +Webb's men have just gunned three of our friends. Your story doesn't make +any hit with me. I don't believe a word of it." + +"You can take it or let it alone. It goes as I've told it," Prince cut +back shortly. + +Another man spoke up. He was a tinhorn gambler of Los Portales and for +reasons of his own foregathered with the Snaith-McRobert faction. "Look +here, young fellow. You may or may not be in this thing deep. I'm willin' +to give you the benefit of the doubt if my friends are. I'd hate to see +you bumped off when you didn't do any of the killin'. All we want is +justice. This is a square town. When bad men go too far we plant 'em on +Boot Hill. Understand? Now you slide out of the back door, slap a saddle +on your bronc, an' hit the high spots out of here," + +"And Clanton?" asked Billie. + +"We'll attend to Clanton's case," + +A faint smile touched the sardonic face of Prince. "What did you ever see +me do to give you the notion that I was yellow, Bancock?" + +"This ain't your affair. You step aside an' let justice--" + +"If those that holler for justice loudest had it done to them there would +be a lot of squealin' outside of hogpens." + +"You won't take that offer, then?" + +"Not this year of our Lord, thank you." + +"You've had your chance. If you turn it down you're liable to go out of +here feet first." + +Not a muscle twitched in the lean, brown face of the young cowpuncher. +"Cut loose whenever you're ready." + +"Hold yore hawsses, friend," advised the ex-guerrilla, not unkindly. +"There's no occasion whatever for you to run on the rope. We are six to +two, countin' the kid, who's got about all he can carry for one day. +We're here askin' questions, an' it's reasonable for you to answer 'em." + +"I have answered 'em. I'll answer all you want to ask. But I'd think you +would feel cheap to come kickin' about that fight. My friend fought fair. +You know best whether your friends did. He took 'em at odds of two to +one, an' at that one of your gunmen hunted cover. What's troublin you, +anyhow? Didn't you have all the breaks? Do you want an open an' shut +cinch?" + +"You're quite a lawyer," replied Dumont, the man who found the climate of +Texas unhealthy. "I reckon it would take a good one to talk himself out +of the hole you're in." + +Billie looked at the man and Dumont decided that he did not have a +speaking part in the scene. He was willing to remain one of the mob. In +point of fact, after what he had seen in the last few minutes, he was not +at all anxious to force the issue to actual battle. A good strong bluff +would suit him a great deal better. Even odds of six to two were not +good enough considering the demonstration he had witnessed. + +"What is it you want? Another showdown?" asked Clanton unexpectedly. + +Quantrell's man laughed. "I never did see such a fire-eater." + +He turned to his companions. "I told you how it would be. We can't prove +a thing against the kid except that he was lookin' for a fight an' got +it. He played the hand that was dealt him an' he played it good. I reckon +we'll have to let him go this time, boys." + +"We'll make a mistake if we do," differed Sanders. + +"You'll make one if you don't," said Prince pointedly. + +He stood poised, every nerve and muscle set to a hair-trigger for swift +action. Of those facing him not one of the six but knew they would have +to pay the price before they could exact vengeance for the death of the +Roush brothers. + +"What's the use of beefing?" grumbled a one-armed puncher in the rear. +"They shot up three of our friends. What more do you want?" + +"Don't be in a hurry, Albeen," advised Billie. "It's easy to start +something. We all know you burn powder quick. You're a sure-enough bad +man. But I've got a hunch it's goin' to be your funeral as well as mine +if once the band begins to play." + +"That so?" replied Albeen with heavy sarcasm. "You talk like you was +holdin' a royal flush, my friend." + +"I'm holdin' a six-full an' Clanton has another. We're sittin' in +strong." + +Dumont proposed a compromise. "Why not just arrest 'em an' hold 'em at +Bluewater till we find whether their story is true?" + +"Bring a warrant along before you try that," Billie countered. "Think we +were born yesterday? No Lazy S M sheriff, judge, an' jury for me, if you +please." + +The old guerrilla nodded. "That's reasonable, too. We haven't got a leg +to stand on, boys. This young fellow's story may be true an' it may not. +All we know is what we've seen. Clanton here took a mighty slim chance of +comin' through alive when he tackled Dave an' Hugh Roush. I wouldn't have +give a chew of tobacco against a week's pay for it. He fought fair, +didn't he? Now he's come through I'll be doggoned if I want to jump on +him again." + +"You're too soft for this country, Reb," sneered Albeen. "Better go back +to Arkansas or wherever you come from." + +"When I get ready. You don't mean right away, Albeen, do you?" demanded +the old-timer sharply. + +"Well, don't hang around all day," said Prince, his eye full in that of +the foreman. "Make up your minds whether you want to jump one man an' a +wounded boy. If you don't mean business I'd like to have a doctor look at +my friend's shoulder." + +Sanders's eyes fell at last before the quiet steadiness of that gaze. +With an oath he turned on his heel and strode from the gambling-hall. His +party straggled morosely after him. The old raider lingered for a last +word. + +"Take a fool's advice, Prince. There's a gunbarrel road leads out of town +for the north. Hit it pronto. Stay with it till you come up with Webb's +herd. You won't see his dust any too soon." + +"I guess you're right, Reb," agreed Prince. + +"You know I'm right. Just now you've got the boys bluffed, but it isn't +going to last. They'll get busy lappin' up drinks. Quite a crowd of town +toughs will join 'em. By night they'll be all primed up for a lynching. +I'd spoil their party if I was you by bein' distant absentees." + +"Soon as I can get Jim's shoulder fixed up we'll be joggin' along if he's +able to travel," promised Billie. + +"Good enough. And I'd see he was able if it was me." + + + + +Chapter X + +Bud Proctor Lends a Hand + + +After the doctor had dressed the wounded shoulder he ordered Clanton to +go to bed at once and stay there. "What he needs is rest, proper food, +and sleep. See he gets them." + +"I'll try," said Billie dryly. "Sometimes a fellow can't sleep when he's +got a lead pill in him, doctor. Could you give me something to help him +forget the pain an' the fever?" + +The doctor made up some powders. "One every two hours till he gets to +sleep. I'll come and see him in the morning. You're at the Proctor House, +aren't you?" + +"Yes." + +"Is Roush goin' to live?" asked Jim. + +The professional man looked at the boy speculatively. He wondered whether +the young fellow was suffering qualms of conscience. Since he did not +believe in the indiscriminate shooting in vogue on the frontier, he was +willing this youngster should worry a bit. + +"Not one chance for him in a hundred," he replied brusquely. + +"That's good. I'd hate to have to do it all over again. Have you got the +makin's with you, Billie?" Clanton asked evenly. + +"I've got a plain and simple word for such killings," the doctor said, +flushing. "I find it in my Bible." + +"That's where my dad found it too, doctor." + +With which cryptic utterance Clanton led the way out of the office to the +hotel. + +Jimmie lay down dressed on the bed of their joint room while his friend +went down to the porch to announce to sundry loafers, from whom the news +would spread over town shortly, that Clanton had gone to sleep and was on +no account to be disturbed till morning. + +Later in the afternoon Billie might have been seen fixing a stirrup +leather for Bud Proctor, the fourteen-year-old heir of the hotel +proprietor. He and the youngster appeared to be having a bully time on +the porch, but it was noticeable that the cowpuncher, for all his manner +of casual carelessness, sat close to the wall in the angle of an L so +that nobody could approach him unobserved. + +In an admiring trance Bud had followed the two friends from the office of +the doctor. Now he was in the seventh heaven at being taken into +friendship by one of these heroes. At last he screwed up his courage to +refer to the affair at Tolleson's. + +"Say, Daniel Boone ain't got a thing on yore friend, has he? Jiminy, I'd +like to go with you both when you leave town." + +Billie spoke severely. "Get that notion right out of your haid, Bud. +You're goin' to stay right here at home. I'll tell you another thing +while we're on that subject. Don't you get to thinkin' that killers are +fine people. They ain't. Some of 'em aren't even game. They take all +kinds of advantage an' they're a cruel, cold-blooded lot. Never forget +that. I'm not talkin' about Jim Clanton, understand. He did what he +thought he had to do. I don't say he was right. I don't say he was wrong. +But I will say that this country would be a whole lot better off if we'd +all put our guns away." + +Bud sniffed. "If you hadn't had yore guns this mornin' I'd like to know +where you'd 'a' been." + +"True enough. I can't travel unarmed because of Indians an' bad men. +What I say is that some day we'll all be brave enough to go without our +hog-legs. I'll be glad when that day comes." + +"An' when you two went up Escondido Cañon after the Mescaleros that had +captured Miss Roubideau? I heard Dad Wrayburn tellin' all about it at +supper here one night. Well, what if you hadn't had any guns?" persisted +Bud. + +"That would have been tough luck," admitted Prince, holding up the +leather to examine his work. "Learn to shoot if you like, Bud, but +remember that guns aren't made to kill folks with. They're for buffaloes +an' antelope an' coyotes." + +"Didn't you ever kill any one?" + +"Haven't you had any bringin' up?" Billie wanted to know indignantly +"I've a good mind to put you across my knee an' whale you with this +leather. I've a notion to quit you here an' now. Don't you know better +than to ask such questions?" + +"It--it slipped out," whimpered Bud. "I'll never do it again." + +"See you don't. Now I'm goin' to give you a chance to make good with me +an' my friend, Bud. Can you keep a secret?" + +The eyes of the boy began to shine. "Crickey. You just try me, Mr. +Prince." + +"All right. I will. But first I must know that you are our friend." + +"Cross my heart an' hope to die. Honest, I am." + +"I believe you, Bud. Well, the Snaith-McRobert outfit intend to lynch me +an' my friend to-night." + +The face of the boy became all eyes. He was too astonished to speak. + +"Our only chance is to get out of town. Jim is supposed to be so bad I +can't move him. But if you can find an' saddle horses for us we'll slip +out the back door at dusk an' make our get-away. Do you think you can get +us horses an' some food without tellin' anybody what for?" asked the +cowboy. + +"I'll get yore own horses from the corral." + +"No. That won't do. If you saddled them, that would arouse suspicion at +once. You must bring two horses an' tie 'em to the back fence just as if +you were goin' ridin' yourself. Then we'll take 'em when you come into +the house. Make the tie with a slip knot. We may be in a hurry." + +"Gee! This beats 'Hal Hiccup, the Boy Demon,'" crowed Bud, referring to a +famous hero of Nickel Library fame. "I'll sure get you horses all right." + +"I'll make arrangements to have the horses sent back. Bring 'em round +just as it begins to get dark an' whistle a bar of 'Yankee Doodle' when +you get here. Now cut your stick, Bud. Don't be seen near me any more." + +The boy decamped. His face, unable to conceal his excitement at this +blessed adventure which had fallen from heaven upon him, was trying to +say "Golly!" without the use of words. + +During the next hour or two Bud was a pest. Twenty times he asked +different men mysteriously what o'clock it was. When he was sent to the +store for pickles he brought back canned tomatoes. Set to weeding onions, +he pulled up weeds and vegetables impartially. A hundred times he cast a +longing glance at the westering sun. + +So impatient was he that he could not quite wait till dusk. He slipped +around to the Elephant Corral by a back way and picked out two horses +that suited him. Then he went boldly to the owner of the stable. + +"Mr. Sanders sent me to bring to him that sorrel and the white-foot bay. +Said you'd know his saddle. It doesn't matter which of the other saddles +you use." + +Ten minutes later Bud was walking through the back yard of the hotel +whistling shrilly "Yankee Doodle." It happened that his father was an +ex-Confederate and "Dixie" was more to the boy's taste, but he enjoyed +the flavor of the camouflage he was employing. It fitted into his new +role of Bud Proctor, Scout of the Pecos. + +The fugitives slipped down the back stairway of the Proctor House and +into the garden. In another moment they were astride and moving out to +the sparsely settled suburbs of town. + +"Did you notice the brand on the horse you're ridin', Jim?" asked Prince +with a grin. + +"Same brand's on your bay, Billie--the Lazy S M. Did you tell that kid to +steal us two horses?" + +"No, but you've said it. I'm on the bronc Sanders rides, and you an' I +are horse-thieves now as well as killers. This certainly gets us in bad." + +"I've a notion to turn back yet," said Jim, with the irritability of a +sick man. "How in Mexico did he happen to light on Snaith-McRobert stock? +Looks like he might have found somethin' else for us." + +"Bud has too much imagination," admitted Prince ruefully. "I'd bet a +stack of blues he picked these hawsses on purpose--probably thought it +would be a great joke on Sanders an' his crew." + +"Well, I don't like it. They've got us where they want us now." + +Billie did not like it either. To kill a man on the frontier then in fair +fight was a misdemeanor. To steal a horse was a capital offense. Many a +bronco thief ended his life at the end of a rope in the hands of +respectable citizens who had in the way of business snuffed out the lives +of other respectable citizens. Both of the Flying VY riders knew that if +they were caught with the stock, it would be of no avail with Sanders to +plead that they had no intention of stealing. Possession would be _prima +facie_ evidence of guilt. + +"It's too late to go back now," Prince decided. + +"We'll travel night an' day till we reach the old man an' have him send +the bones back. I hate to do it, but we have no choice. Anyhow, we might +as well be hanged for stealin' a horse as for anything else." + +They topped a hill and came face to face with a rider traveling town +ward. His gaze took in the animals carrying the fugitives and jumped to +the face of Billie. In the eyes of the man was an expression blended of +suspicion and surprise. He passed with a nod and a surly "'Evenin'." + +"Fine luck we're havin', Billie," commented his friend with a little +laugh. "I give Sanders twenty minutes to be on our trail." + + + + +Chapter XI + +The Fugitives + + +Through the gathering darkness Prince watched the figure of his companion +droop. The slim, lithe body sagged and the shoulders were heavy with +exhaustion. Both small hands clung to the pommel of the saddle. It took +no prophet to see that in his present condition the wounded man would +never travel the gun-barrel road as far as the dust of the Flying V Y +herd. Even by easy stages he could not do it, and with pursuit thundering +at their heels the ride would be a cruel, grilling one. + +"How about pullin' a little strategy on Sanders, Jim? Instead of hittin' +the long trail, let's circle back around the town, strike the river, make +camp, an' lie low in the chaparral. Does that listen good to you?" + +Young Clanton looked at his friend suspiciously. The younger man was +fagged out and in a good deal of pain. The jolting of the pony's +movements jarred the bandages on the wound. Already his fever was high +and he had moments of light-headedness. He knew that his partner was +proposing to jeopardize his own chances of escape in order to take care +of him. + +"No, sir. We'll keep goin' right ahead," he said irritably. "Think I'm a +quitter? Think I'm goin' to lie down on you?" + +"Would I be likely to think that?" asked Billie gently. "What I'm +thinking is that both of us would be better for a good night's rest. Why +not throw off an' camp in the darkness? While we're sleepin' Sanders an' +his posse will be ridin' the hearts out of their horses. It looks like +good business to me to let 'em go to it." + +"No," said Jim obstinately. "No. We'll keep ridin'." + +Prince knew that the other understood what he was trying to do, and that +his pride--and perhaps something better than pride--would not accept +such a sacrifice. Billie said no more, but his mind still wrestled with +the problem before him. It was impossible, while his comrade was so badly +hurt, to hold a pace that would keep them ahead of the Lazy S M riders. +Already Sanders must be gaining on them, and to make matters worse +Clanton drew down to a walk. His high-pitched voice and disjointed +expressions told the older man that he was at the beginning of delirium. + +"What do you mean, standing there and grinnin' at me like a wolf, Dave +Roush? I killed you once. You're dead an' buried. How come you alive +again? Then shoot, both of you! Come out from cover, Hugh Roush." He +stopped, and took the matter up from another angle. "You're a liar, you +coyote. I'm not runnin' away. Two to one ... two to one ... I'll ride +back an' gun you both. I'm a-comin' now." + +He pulled up and turned his horse. Faintly there came to Billie the +thudding of horses' hoofs. In five minutes it would be too late to save +either the sick man or himself. It never occurred to him for a moment to +desert Clanton. Somehow he must get him into the chaparral, and without +an instant's delay. His mind seized on the delirious fancy of the young +fellow. + +"You're sure right, Jim," he said quietly. "I'd go an' gun them too. I'll +ride with you an' see fair play. They're out here in the brush. Come on." + +"No. They're back in town. Leave 'em to me. Don't you draw, Billie." + +"All right. But they're over here to our right. I saw 'em there. Come. +We'll sneak up on 'em so that they can't run when they hear you." + +Billie turned. He swung his horse into the mesquite. His heart was heavy +with anxiety. Would the wounded man accept his lead? Or would his +obstinacy prevail? + +"Here they are. Right ahead here," continued Prince. + +Followed a moment of suspense, then came the crashing of brush as Clanton +moved after him. + +"S-sh! Ride softly, Jim. We don't want 'em to hear us an' get away." + +"Tha's right. Tha's sure right. You said somethin' then, Billie. But +they'll not get away. Haven't I slept on their trail four years? They're +mine at last." + +Prince was drawing him farther from the road. But the danger was not yet +over. As the posse passed, some member of it might hear them, or young +Clanton might hear it and gallop out to the road under the impression he +was going to meet Dave Roush. Billie twisted in and out of the brush, +never for an instant letting his friend pull up. On a moving horse one +cannot hear so distinctly as on one standing still. + +At last Billie began to breathe more easily. The pursuers must have +passed before this. He could give his attention to the sick man. + +Jim was clutching desperately to the saddle-horn. The fever was gaining +on him and the delirium worse. He talked incessantly, sometimes +incoherently. From one subject to another he went, but always he came +back to Dave Roush and his brother. He dared them to stand up and fight. +He called on them to stop running, to wait for him. Then he trailed off +into a string of epithets usually ending in sobs of rage. + +The sickness of the young man tore the heart of his companion. Every +instinct of kindness urged him to stop, make up a bed for the wounded +boy, and let him rest from the agony of travel. But he dared not stop +yet. He had to keep going till they reached a place of temporary safety. + +With artful promises of immediate vengeance upon his enemies, by means of +taunts at him as a quitter, through urgent proddings that reached +momentarily the diseased mind, Prince kept him moving through the brush. +The sweat stood out on the white face of the young fellow shining ghastly +in the moonlight. + +After what seemed an interminable time they could see from a mesa the +lights of Los Portales. Billie left the town well to his right, skirted +the pastures on the outskirts, and struck the river four miles farther +down. + +While they were still a long way from it the boy collapsed completely and +slid from the saddle to which he had so long clung. His friend uncinched +and freed the sorrel, lifted the slack body to his own horse, and walked +beside the animal to steady the lurching figure. + +At the bank of the river he stopped and lifted the body to the ground. It +lay limp and slack where the cowpuncher set it down. Through the white +shoulder dressings a stain of red had soaked. For a moment Billie was +shaken by the fear that the Arizonian might be dead, but he rejected it +as not at all likely. Yet when he held his hand against the heart of the +wounded man he was not sure that he could detect a beating. + +From the river he brought water in his hat and splashed it into the white +face. He undid the shoulder bandages, soaked them in cold water, and +rebound the wound. Between the clenched teeth he forced a few drops of +whiskey from his flask. + +The eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. + +"Where are we, Billie?" the sick man asked; then added: "How did we get +away from 'em?" + +"Went into the brush an' doubled back to the river. I'm goin' to hunt a +place where we can lie hid for a few days." + +"Oh, I'll be all right by mornin'. Did I fall off my hawss?" + +"Yes. I had to turn your sorrel loose. Soon as I've picked a permanent +camp I'll have to let mine go too. Some one would be sure to stumble on +it an' go to guessin'." + +After a moment the sick man spoke quietly. "You're a good pal, Billie. I +haven't known many men would take a long chance like this for a fellow +they hadn't met a month ago." + +"I'm not forgettin' how you rode up Escondido when I asked you to go." + +"You got a lot of sabe, too. You don't go bullin' Into a fight when +there's a good reason for stayin' out. At Tolleson's if you had drawn +yore gun when the shootin' was on, the whole Lazy S M would have pitched +in an' riddled us both. They kept out because you did. That gave me a +chance to come through alive." + +The Texan registered embarrassment with a grin. "Yes, I'm the boy wonder +of the Brazos," he admitted. + +A faint, unexpected gleam of humor lay for a moment in the eyes of the +sick man. "I got you where the wool's short, Billie. I can throw bouquets +at you an' you got to stand hitched because I'm sick. Doc says to humor +me. If I holler for the moon you climb up an' get it." + +"I'll rope it for you," assented the cowpuncher. "How's the game +shoulder?" + +"Hurts like Heligoland. Say, ain't I due for one of them sleep powders +Doc fixed up so careful?" + +His companion gave him one, after which he folded his coat and put it +under the head of Clanton, Over him he threw a saddle blanket. + +"Back soon," he promised. + +The sick man nodded weakly. + +Billie swung to the saddle and turned down the river. Unfortunately the +country here was an open one. Along the sandy shore of the stream the +mesquite was thin. There was no soapweed and very little cactus. The +terrain of the hill country farther back was rougher, more full of +pockets, and covered with heavier brush. But it was necessary for the +fugitives to remain close to water. + +What Prince hoped to find was some sort of cave or overhanging ledge of +shale under which they could lie hidden until Jim's strength returned +sufficiently to permit of travel. The problem would be at best a +difficult one. They had little food, scarce dared light a fire, and +Clanton was in no condition to stand exposure in case the weather grew +bad. Even if the boy weathered the sickness, it would not be possible for +him to walk hundreds of miles in his weakened condition. But this was a +matter which did not press for an answer. Billie intended to cross no +bridges until he came to them. Just now he must focus his mind on keeping +the wounded man alive and out of the hands of his enemies. + +Beyond a bend he came upon a jutting bank that for lack of better might +serve his purpose. He could scoop out a cave in which his partner might +lie protected from the hot midday sun. If he filled the mouth with tumble +weeds during the day they might escape observation for a time. + +When the Texan returned to his friend, he found him in restless slumber. +He tossed to and fro, muttering snatches of incoherent talk. The wound +seemed to pain him even in his sleep, for he moved impatiently as though +trying to throw off some weight lying heavy upon it. + +But when he awoke his mind was apparently clear. He met Billie's anxious +look with a faint, white-lipped smile. To his friend the young fellow had +the signs of a very sick man. It was a debatable question whether to risk +moving him now or take the almost hopeless chance of escaping detection +where they were. + +Prince put the decision on Jim himself. The answer came feebly, but +promptly. + +"Sure, move me. What's one little--bullet in the shoulder, Billie? Gimme +some sleep--an' I'll be up an' kickin'." + +Yet the older man noticed that his white lips could scarcely find +strength to make the indomitable boast. + +Very gently Billie lifted the wounded man and put him on the back of the +cowpony. He held him there and guided the animal through the sand to +the bend. Clanton hung on with clenched teeth, calling on the last ounce +of power in his exhausted body with his strong will. + +"Just a hundred yards more," urged the walking man as they rounded the +bend. "We're 'most there now." + +He lifted the slack body down and put it in the sand. The hands of the +boy were ice cold. The sap of life was low in him. Prince covered him +with the blankets and his coat. He gave him a sup or two of whiskey, then +gathered buffalo chips and made a fire in which he heated some large +rocks. These he tucked in beneath the blankets beside the shivering body. +Slowly the heat warmed the invalid. After a time he fell once more into +troubled sleep. + +Billie drove his horse away and pelted it with stones to a trot. He could +not keep it with him without risking discovery, but he was almost as much +afraid that its arrival in Los Portales might start a search for the +hidden fugitives. There was always a chance, of course, that the bay +would stop to graze on the plains and not be found for a day or two. + +The rest of the night the Texan put in digging a cave with a piece of +slaty shale. The clay of the bank was soft and he made fair progress. The +dirt he scooped out was thrown by him into the river. + + + + +Chapter XII + +The Good Samaritan + + +A girl astride a buckskin pony rode down to the river to water her mount. +She carried across the pommel of her saddle a small rifle. Hanging from +the cantle strings was a wild turkey she had shot. + +It was getting along toward evening and she was on her way back to Los +Portales. The girl was a lover of the outdoors and she had been hunting +alone. In the clear, amber light of afternoon the smoke of the town rose +high into the sky, though the trading post itself could not be seen until +she rounded the bend. + +As her horse drank, a strange thing happened. At a point directly +opposite her a bunch of tumble weeds had gathered against the bank of the +shrunken stream. Something agitated them, and from among the brush the +head and shoulders of a man projected. + +Without an instant of delay the girl slipped from the pony and led it +behind a clump of mesquite. Through this she peered intently, watching +every move of the man, who had by this time come out into the open. He +went down to the river, filled his hat with water, and disappeared among +the tumble weeds, gathering them closely to conceal the entrance of his +cave. + +The young woman remounted, rode downstream an eighth of a mile, splashed +through to the other side, and tied her pony to a stunted live-oak. Rifle +in hand she crept cautiously along the bank and came to a halt behind a +cottonwood thirty yards from the cave. Here she waited, patiently, +silently, as many a time she had done while stalking the game she was +used to hunting. + +The minutes passed, ran into an hour. The westering sun slid down close +to the horizon's edge. Still the girl held her vigil. At last the brush +moved once more and the man reappeared. His glance swept the landscape, +the river-bank, the opposite shore. Apparently satisfied, he came out +from his hiding-place, and began to gather brush for a fire. + +He was stooped, his back toward her, when the voice of the girl startled +him to rigidity. + +"Hands in the air!" + +He did not at once obey. His head turned to see who this Amazon might be. + +"Can't you hear? Reach for the sky!" she ordered sharply. + +She had risen and stepped from behind the tree. He could see that she was +dark, of a full, fine figure, and that her steady black eyes watched him +without the least fear. The rifle in her hands covered him very steadily. + +His hands went up, but he could not keep a little, sardonic smile from +his face. The young woman lowered the rifle from her shoulder and moved +warily forward. + +"Lie down on the sand, face to the ground, hands outstretched!" came her +next command. + +Billie did as he was told. A little tug at his side gave notice to him +that she had deftly removed his revolver. + +"Sit up!" + +The cowpuncher sat up and took notice. Stars of excitement snapped in the +eyes of this very competent young woman. The color beat warmly through +her dark skin. She was very well worth looking at. + +"What's your name?" she demanded. + +"My road brand is Billie Prince," he answered. + +"Thought so. Where's the other man?" + +He nodded toward the cave. + +"Call him out," she said curtly. + +"I hate to wake him. He's been wounded. All day he's been in a high fever +and he's asleep at last." + +For the first time her confidence seemed a little shaken. She hesitated. +"Is he badly hurt?" + +"He'd get well if he could have proper attention, but a wounded man can't +stand to be jolted around the way he's been since he was shot." + +"Do you mean that you think he's going to die?" + +"I don't know." After a moment he added: "He's mighty sick." + +"He ought never to have left town." + +"Oughtn't he?" said Prince dryly. "If you'll inquire you'll find we had a +good reason for leavin'." + +"Well, you're going to have another good reason for going back," she told +him crisply. "I'll send a buckboard for him." + +"Aren't you takin' a heap of trouble on our account?" he inquired +ironically. + +"That's my business." + +"And mine. Are you the sheriff of Washington County, ma'am?" + +A pulse of anger beat in her throat. Her long-lashed eyes flashed +imperiously at him. "It doesn't matter who I am. You'll march to town in +front of my horse." + +"Maybe so." + +The voice of the sick man began to babble querulously. Both of those +outside listened. + +"He's awake," the girl said. "Bring him out here and let me see him." + +Billie had an instinct that sometimes served him well. He rose promptly. + +"Para sirvir usted" ("At your service"), he murmured. + +"Don't try to start anything. I'll have you covered every second." + +"I believe you. It won't be necessary to demonstrate, ma'am." + +The cowpuncher carried his friend out from the cave and put him down +gently in the sand. + +"Why, he's only a boy!" she cried in surprise. + +"He was man enough to go up against half a dozen 'Paches alone to save +Pauline Roubideau," Billie said simply. + +She looked up with quick interest. "I've heard that story. Is it true?" + +"It's true. And he was man enough to fight it out to a finish against two +bad men yesterday." + +"But he can't be more than eighteen." She watched for a moment the flush +of fever in his soft cheeks. "Did he really kill Dave and Hugh Roush? +Or was it you?" + +"He did it." + +"I hate a killer!" she blazed unexpectedly. + +"Does he look like a killer?" asked Prince gently. + +"No, he doesn't. That makes it worse." + +"Did you know that Dave Roush ruined his sister's life in a fiendish +way?" + +"I expect there's another side to that story," she retorted. + +"This boy was fourteen at the time. His father swore him to vengeance an' +Jim followed his enemies for years. He never had a doubt but that he +was doin' right." + +She put her rifle down impulsively. "Why don't you keep his face sponged? +Bring me water." + +The Texan put his hat into requisition again for a bucket. With her +handkerchief the girl sponged the face and the hands. The cold water +stopped for a moment the delirious muttering of the young man. But the +big eyes that stared into hers did not associate his nurse with the +present. + +"I done remembered you, 'Lindy, like I promised. I'm a-followin' them +scalawags yet," he murmured. + +"His sister's name was Melindy," explained Prince. + +The girl nodded. She was rubbing gently the boy's wrist with her wet +handkerchief. + +"It's getting dark," she told Billie in her sharp, decisive way. "Get +your fire lit--a big one. I've got some cooking to do." + +Further orders were waiting for him as soon as he had the camp-fire +going. "You'll find my horse tied to a live-oak down the river a bit. +Bring it up." + +Billie smiled as he moved away into the darkness. This imperious girl +belonged, of course, in the camp of the enemy. She had held him up with +the intention of driving them back to town before her in triumph. But she +was, after all, a very tender-hearted foe to a man stricken with +sickness. It occurred to the Texan that through her might lie a way of +salvation for them both. + +Until he saw the turkey the cowpuncher wondered what cooking she could +have in mind, but while he cantered back through the sand he guessed +what she meant to do. + +"Draw the turkey. Don't pick it," she gave instructions. Her own hands +were busy trying to make her patient comfortable. + +After he had drawn the bird, which was a young, plump one, he made under +direction of the young woman a cement of mud. This he daubed in a +three-inch coating over the turkey, then prepared the fire to make of it +an oven. He covered the bird with ashes, raked live coals over these, and +piled upon the red-hot coals piñon knots and juniper boughs. + +"Keep your fire going till about two or three o'clock, then let it die +out. In the morning the turkey will be baked," the young Diana gave +assurance. + +The cowpuncher omitted to tell her that he had baked a dozen more or less +and knew all about it. + +She rose and drew on her gauntlets in a business-like manner. + +"I'm going home now. After the fever passes keep him warm and let him +sleep if he will." + +"Yes, ma'am," promised Billie with suspicious meekness. + +The girl looked at him sharply, as if she distrusted his humility. Was he +laughing at her? Did he dare to find amusement in her? + +"I haven't changed my mind about you. Folks that come to town and start +killing deserve all they get. But I'd look after a yellow dog if it was +sick," she said contemptuously, little devils of defiance in her eyes. + +"I'm not questionin' your motives, ma'am, so long as your actions are +friendly," + +"I haven't any use for any of Homer Webb's outfit. He's got no business +here. If he runs into trouble he has only himself to blame." + +"I'll mention to him that you said so." + +Picking up the rifle, she turned and walked to the horse. There was a +little devil-may-care touch to her walk, just as in her manner, that +suggested a girl spoiled by over-much indulgence. She was imperious, +high-spirited, full of courage and insolence, because her environment had +moulded her to independence. It was impossible for the young cow puncher +to help admiring the girl. + +"I'll be back," she called over her shoulder. + +The pony jumped to a canter at the touch of her Jaeel. She disappeared in +a gallop around the bend. + +Already the fever of the boy was beginning to pass. He shivered with the +chill of night. Billie wrapped around him his own coat, a linsey-woolen +one lined with yellow flannel. He packed him up in the two blankets and +heated stones for his feet and hands. Presently the boy fell into sound +sleep for the first time since he was wounded. He had slept before, but +always uneasily and restlessly. Now he did not mutter between clenched +teeth nor toss to and fro. + +His friend accepted it as a good omen. Since he had not slept a wink +himself for forty hours, he lay down before the fire and made himself +comfortable His eyes closed almost immediately. + + + + +Chapter XIII + +A Friendly Enemy + + +"Law sakes, Miss Bertie Lee, yo' suppah done been ready an hour. Hit sure +am discommodin' the way you go gallumphin' around. Don't you-all nevah +git tired?" + +Aunt Becky was large and black and bulgy. To say that she was fat fails +entirely of doing her justice. She overflowed from her clothes in waves +at all possible points. When she moved she waddled. + +Just now she was trying to be cross, but the smile of welcome on the +broad face would have its way. + +"Set down an' rest yo' weary bones, honey. I'll have yo' suppah dished up +in no time a-tall. Yore paw was axin' where is you awhile ago." + +"Where's dad?" asked Miss Bertie Lee Snaith carelessly as she flung her +gloves on a chair. + +"He done gone down to the store to see if anything been heerd o' them +vilyainous killers of Mr. Webb." + +When Bertie Lee returned from washing her hands and face and giving a +touch or two to her hair, she sat down and did justice to the fried +chicken and biscuits of Aunt Becky. She had had a long day of it and she +ate with the keen appetite of youth. + +Her father returned while she was still at the table. He was a big sandy +man dressed in a corduroy suit. He was broad of shoulder and his legs +were bowed. + +"Any news, dad?" she asked. + +"Not a thing, Lee. I reckon they've made their get-away. They must have +slipped off the road somewhere. The wounded one never could have traveled +all night. Maybe we'll git 'em yet." + +"What will you do with them, if you do?" + +"Hang 'em to a sour apple tree," answered Wallace Snaith promptly. + +His daughter made no comment. She knew that her father's resentment was +based on no abstract love of law and order. It had back of it no feeling +that crime had been committed or justice outraged. The frontier was in +its roistering youth, full of such effervescing spirits that life was the +cheapest thing it knew. Every few days some unfortunate was buried on +Boot Hill, a victim of his own inexpertness with the six-shooter. The +longhorned cattle of Texas were wearing broad trails to the north and the +northwest and such towns as Los Portales were on the boom. Chap-clad +punchers galloped through the streets at all hours of the day and +night letting out their joyous "Eee-yip-eee." The keys of Tolleson's and +half a dozen other gambling places had long since been lost, for the +doors were never closed to patrons. At games of chance the roof was the +limit, in the expressive phrase of the country. Guns cracked at the +slightest difference of opinion. It was bad form to use the word +"murder." The correct way to speak of the result of a disagreement was to +refer to it as "a killing." + +Law lay for every man in a holster on his own hip. Snaith recognized this +and accepted it. He was ready to "bend a gun" himself if occasion called +for it. What he objected to in this particular killing was the personal +affront to him. One of Webb's men had deliberately and defiantly killed +two of his riders when the town was full of his employees. The man had +walked into Tolleson's--a place which he, Snaith, practically owned +himself--and flung down the gauntlet to the whole Lazy S M outfit. It was +a flagrant insult and Wallace Snaith proposed to see that it was avenged. + +"I'm going duck-hunting to-morrow, dad," Lee told him. "I'll likely be up +before daylight, but I'll try not to disturb you. If you hear me +rummaging around in the pantry, you'll know what for." + +He grunted assent, full of the grievance that was rankling in his mind. +Lee came and went as she pleased. She was her own mistress and he made no +attempt to chaperon her activities. + +The light had not yet begun to sift into the sky next morning when Lee +dressed and tiptoed to the kitchen. She carried saddlebags with her and +into the capacious pockets went tea, coffee, flour, corn meal, a flask of +brandy, a plate of cookies, and a slab of bacon. An old frying-pan and a +small stew kettle joined the supplies; also a little package of "yerb" +medicine prepared by Aunt Becky as a specific for fevers. + +Lee walked through the silent, pre-dawn darkness to the stable and +saddled her pony, blanketing and cinching as deftly as her father could +have done it. With her she carried an extra blanket for the wounded man. + +The gray light of dawn was beginning to sift into the sky when she +reached the camp of the fugitives. Prince came forward to meet her. She +saw that the fire was now only a bed of coals from which no smoke would +rise to betray them. + +The girl swung from the saddle and gave a little jerk of her head toward +Clanton. + +"How is he?" + +"Slept like a log all night. Feels a heap better this mo'nin'. Wants to +know if he can't have somethin' to eat." + +"I killed a couple of prairie plover on the way. We'll make some soup for +him." + +The girl walked straight to her patient and looked down at him with +direct and searching eyes. She found no glaze of fever in the ones that +gazed back into hers. + +"Hungry, are you?" + +"I could eat a mail sack, ma'am." + +She stripped the gauntlets from her hands and set about making breakfast. +Jim watched her with alert interest. He was still weak, but life this +morning began to renew itself in him. The pain and the fever had gone and +left him at peace with a world just emerging from darkness into a rosily +flushed dawn. Not the least attractive feature of it was this stunning, +dark-eyed girl who was proving such a friendly enemy. + +Her manner to Billie was crisp and curt. She ordered him to fetch and +carry. Something in his slow drawl--some hint of hidden amusement in +his manner--struck a spark of resentment from her quick eye. But toward +Jim she was all kindness. No trouble was too much to take for his +comfort. If he had a whim it must be gratified. Prince was merely a +servant to wait upon him. + +The education of Jim Clanton was progressing. As he ate his plover broth +he could not keep his eyes from her. She was so full of vital life. The +color beat through her dark skin warm and rich. The abundant blue-black +hair, the flashing eyes, the fine poise of the head, the little jaunty +swagger of her, so wholly a matter of unconscious faith in her place in +the sun: all of these charmed and delighted him. He had never dreamed of +a girl of such spirit and fire. + +It was inevitable that both he and Billie should recall by contrast +another girl who had given them generously of her service not long since. +There were in the country then very few women of any kind. Certainly +within a radius of two hundred miles there was no other girl so popular +and so attractive as these two. Many a puncher would have been willing to +break an arm for the sake of such kindness as had been lavished upon +these boys. + +By sunup the three of them had finished breakfast. Billie put out the +fire and scattered the ashes in the river. He went into a committee of +ways and means with Lee Snaith just before she returned to town. + +"You can't stay here long. Some one is sure to stumble on you just as I +did. What plan have you to get away?" + +"If I could get our horses in three or four days mebbe Jim could make out +to ride a little at a time." + +"He couldn't--and you can't get your horses," she vetoed. + +"Then I'll have to leave him, steal another horse, and ride through to +Webb for help." + +"No. You mustn't leave him. I'll see if I can get a man to take a message +to your friends." + +A smile came out on his lean, strong face. "You're a good friend." + +"I'm no friend of yours," she flashed back. "But I won't have my father +spoiling the view by hanging you where I might see you when I ride." + +"You're Wallace Snaith's daughter, I reckon." + +"Yes. And no man that rides for Homer Webb can be a friend of mine." + +"Sorry. Anyhow, you can't keep me from being mighty grateful to my +littlest enemy." + +He did not intend to smile, but just a hint of it leaped to his eyes. She +flushed angrily, suspecting that he was mocking her, and swung her pony +toward town. + +On the way she shot a brace of ducks for the sake of appearances. The +country was a paradise for the hunter. On the river could be found great +numbers of ducks, geese, swans, and pelicans. Of quail and prairie +chicken there was no limit. Thousands of turkeys roosted in the timber +that bordered the streams. There were times when the noise of pigeons +returning to their night haunt was like thunder and the sight of them +almost hid the sky. Bands of antelope could be seen silhouetted against +the skyline. As for buffalo, numbers of them still ranged the plains, +though the day of their extinction was close at hand. No country in the +world's history ever offered such a field for the sportsman as the +Southwest did in the days of the first great cattle drives. + +Miss Bertie Lee dismounted at a store which bore the sign + +SNAITH & McROBERT +General Merchandise + +Though a large building, it was not one of the most recent in town. It +was what is known as a "dugout" in the West, a big cellar roofed over, +with side walls rising above the level of the ground. In a country where +timber was scarce and the railroad was not within two hundred miles, a +sod structure of this sort was the most practicable possible. + +The girl sauntered in and glanced carelessly about her. Two or three +chap-clad cowboys were lounging against the counter watching another buy +a suit of clothes. The wide-brimmed hats of all of them came off +instantly at sight of her. The frontier was rampantly lawless, but +nowhere in the world did a good woman meet with more unquestioning +respect. + +"What's this hyer garment?" asked the brick-red customer of the clerk, +holding up the waistcoat that went with the suit. + +"That's a vest," explained the salesman. "You wear it under the coat." + +"You don't say!" The vaquero examined the article curiously and +disdainfully. "I've heard tell of these didoes, but I never did see one +before. Well, I'll take this suit. Wrap it up. You keep the vest +proposition and give it to a tenderfoot." + +No cowpuncher ever wore a waistcoat. The local dealers of the Southwest +had been utterly unable to impress this fact upon the mind of the Eastern +manufacturer. The result was that every suit came in three parts, one of +which always remained upon the shelf of the store. Some of the supply +merchants had several thousand of these articles de luxe in their stock. +In later years they gave them away to Indians and Mexicans. + +"Do you know where Jack Goodheart is?" asked Lee of the nearest youth. + +"No, ma'am, but I'll go hunt him for you," answered the puncher promptly. + +"Thank you." + +Ten minutes later a bronzed rider swung down in front of the Snaith home. +Miss Bertie Lee was on the porch. + +"You sent for me," he said simply. + +"Do you want to do something for me?" + +"Try me." + +"Will you ride after Webb's outfit and tell him that two of his men are +in hiding on the river just below town. One of them is wounded and can't +sit a horse. So he'd better send a buckboard for him. Let Homer Webb know +that if dad or Sanders finds these men, the cottonwoods will be bearing a +new kind of fruit. Tell him to burn the wind getting here. The men are in +a cave on the left-hand side of the river going down. It is just below +the bend." + +Jack Goodheart did not ask her how she knew this or what difference it +made to her whether Webb rescued his riders or not. He said, "I'll be on +the road inside of twenty minutes." + +Goodheart was a splendid specimen of the frontiersman. He was the best +roper in the country, of proved gameness, popular, keen as an Italian +stiletto, and absolutely trustworthy. Since the first day he had seen her +Jack had been devoted to the service of Bertie Lee Snaith. No dog could +have been humbler or less critical of her shortcomings. The girl despised +his wooing, but she was forced to respect the man. As a lover she had no +use for Goodheart; as a friend she was always calling upon him. + +"I knew you'd go, Jack," she told him. + +"Yes, I'd lie down and make of myself a door-mat for you to trample on," +he retorted with a touch of self-contempt. "Would you like me to do it +now?" + +Lee looked at him in surprise. This was the first evidence he had ever +given that he resented the position in which he stood to her. + +"If you don't want to go I'll ask some one else," she replied. + +"Oh, I'll go." + +He turned and strode to his horse. For years he had been her faithful +cavalier and he knew he was no closer to his heart's desire than when he +began to serve. The first faint stirrings of rebellion were moving in +him. It was not that he blamed her in the least. She was scarcely +nineteen, the magnet for the eyes of all the unattached men in the +district. Was it reasonable to suppose that she would give her love to a +penniless puncher of twenty-eight, lank as a shad, with no recommendation +but honesty? None the less, Jack began to doubt whether eternal patience +was a virtue. + + + + +Chapter XIV + +The Gun-Barrel Road + + +Jack Goodheart followed the gun-barrel road into a desert green and +beautiful with vegetation. Now he passed a blooming azalea or a yucca +with clustering bellflowers. The prickly pear and the cat-claw clutched +at his chaps. The arrowweed and the soapweed were everywhere, as was also +the stunted creosote. The details were not lovely, but in the sunset +light of late afternoon the silvery sheen of the mesquite had its own +charm for the rider. + +Back of the saddle he carried a "hot roll" of blankets and supplies, for +he would have to camp out three or four nights. Flour, coffee, and a can +of tomatoes made the substance of his provisions. His rifle would bring +him all the meat he needed. The one he used was a seventy-three because +the bullets fired from it fitted the cylinder of his forty-four revolver. + +Solitude engulfed him. Once a mule deer stared at him in surprise from an +escarpment back of the mesa. A rattlesnake buzzed its ominous warning. + +He left the road to follow the broad trail made by the Flying V Y herd. A +horizon of deep purple marked the afterglow of sunset and preceded a +desert night of stars. Well into the evening he rode, then hobbled his +horse before he built a camp-fire. + +Darkness was still thick over the plains when he left the buffalo wallow +in which he had camped. All day he held a steady course northward till +the stars were out again. Late the next afternoon he struck the dust of +the drag in the ground swells of a more broken country. + +The drag-driver directed Goodheart to the left point. He found there two +men, One of them--Dad Wrayburn--he knew. The other was a man of sandy +complexion, hard-faced, and fishy of eye. + +"Whad you want?" the second demanded. + +"I want to see Webb." + +"Can't see him. He ain't here." + +"Where is he?" + +"He's ridden on to the Fort to make arrangements for receiving the herd," +answered the man sulkily. + +"Who's the big auger left?" + +"I'm the foreman, if that's what you mean?" + +"Well, I've come to tell you that two of yore men are hidin' in the +chaparral below Los Portales. There was trouble at Tolleson's. Two of the +Lazy S M men were gunned an' one of yours was wounded." + +"Which one was wounded?" + +"I heard his name was Clanton." + +"Suits me fine," grinned the foreman, showing two rows of broken, stained +teeth. "Hope the Lazy S M boys gunned him proper." + +Dad Wrayburn broke in softly. "Chicto, compadre!" ("Hush, partner!") He +turned to Goodheart. "The other man with Clanton must be Billie Prince." + +"Yes." + +"I reckon the Lazy S M boys are lookin' for 'em." + +"You guessed right first crack out of the box." + +"Where are our boys holed up?" + +"In a cave the other side of town. They're just beyond the big bend of +the river. I'll take you there." + +"You've seen 'em." + +"No." Goodheart hesitated just a moment before he went on. "I was sent by +the person who has seen 'em." + +"Listens to me like a plant," jeered Yankie. + +"Meanin' that I'm a liar?" asked Goodheart coldly. + +"I wasn't born yesterday. Come clean. Who is yore friend that saw the +boys?" + +"I can't tell you that." + +"Then yore story doesn't interest me a whole lot." + +"Different here," dissented Wrayburn. "Do you know how badly Clanton is +hurt, Jack?" + +"No. He was able to ride out of town, but my friend told me to say he +wasn't able to ride now. You'll have to send a wagon for him." + +Wrayburn turned to the foreman. "Joe, we've got to go back an' help the +boys." + +"Not on yore topknot, Dad. I'm here to move these beeves along to the +Fort. Prince an' that Clanton may have gone on a tear an' got into +trouble or they may not. I don't care a plugged nickel which way it is. +I'm not keepin' herd on them, an' what's more I don't intend to." + +"We can't leave 'em thataway. Dad gum it, we got to stand by the boys, +Joe. That's what Webb would tell us if he was here." + +"But he ain't here, Dad. An' while he's gone I'm major-domo of this +outfit. We're headed north, not south." + +"You may be. I'm not. An' I reckon you'll find several of the boys got +the same notion I have. I taken a fancy to both those young fellows, an' +if I hadn't I'd go help 'em just the same." + +"You ain't expectin' to ride our stock on this fool chase, are you?" + +"I'll ride the first good bronc I get my knees clamped to, Joe." + +"As regards that, you'll get my answer like shot off'n a shovel. None of +the Flyin' V Y remuda is goin'." + +Wrayburn cantered around the point of the herd to the swing, from the +swing back to the drag, and then forward to the left point. In the +circuit he had stopped to sound out each rider. + +"We all have decided that ten of us will go back, Joe," he announced +serenely. "That leaves enough to loose-herd the beeves whilst we're +away." + +Yankie grew purple with rage. "If you go you'll walk. I'll show you who's +foreman here." + +"No use raisin' a rookus, Joe," replied the old Confederate mildly. +"We're goin'. Yore authority doesn't stretch far enough to hold us here." + +"I'll show you!" stormed the foreman. "Some of you will go to sleep in +smoke if you try to take any of my remuda." + +"Now don't you-all be onreasonable, Joe. We got to go. Cayn't you get it +through yore cocoanut that we've got to stand by our pardners?" + +"That killer Clanton is no pardner of mine. I meant to burn powder with +him one of these days myself. If Wally Snaith beats me to it I'm not +goin' to wear black," retorted Yankie. + +"Sho! The kid's got good stuff in him. An' nobody could ask for a squarer +pal than Billie Prince. You know that yore own self." + +"You heard what I said, Dad. The Flyin' V Y horses don't take the back +trail to-day," insisted the foreman stubbornly. + +The wrinkled eyes of Wrayburn narrowed a little. He looked straight at +Yankie. + +"Don't get biggety, Joe. I'm not askin' you or any other man whether I +can ride to rescue a friend when he's in trouble. You don't own these +broncs, an' if you did we'd take 'em just the same." + +The voice of Wrayburn was still gentle, but it no longer pleaded for +understanding. The words were clean-cut and crisp. + +"I'll show you!" flung back the foreman with an oath. + +When the little group of cavalry was gathered for the start, Yankie, +rifle in hand, barred the way. His face was ugly with the fury of his +anger. + +Dad Wrayburn rode forward in front of his party. "Don't git promiscuous +with that cannon of yours, Joe. You've done yore level best to keep us +here. But we're goin' just the same. We-all will tell the old man how +tender you was of his remuda stock. That will let you out." + +"Don't you come another step closeter, Dad Wrayburn!" the foreman +shouted. "I'll let you know who is boss here." + +Wrayburn did not raise his voice. The drawl in it was just as pronounced, +but every man present read in it a warning. + +"This old sawed-off shotgun of mine spatters like hell, Joe. It always +did shoot all over the United States an' Texas." + +There was an instant of dead silence. Each man watched the other +intently, the one cool and determined, the other full of a volcanic fury. +The curtain had been rung up for tragedy. + +A man stepped between them, twirling carelessly a rawhide rope. + +"Just a moment, gentlemen. I think I know a way to settle this without +bloodshed." Jack Goodheart looked first at the ex-Confederate, then at +the foreman. He was still whirling as if from absent-minded habit the +loop of his reata. + +"We're here to listen, Jack. That would suit me down to the ground," +answered Wrayburn. + +The loop of the lariat snaked forward, whistled through the air, dropped +over the head of Yankie, and tightened around his neck. A shot went +wildly into the air as the rifle was jerked out of the hands of its +owner, who came to the earth with sprawling arms. Goodheart ran forward +swiftly, made a dozen expert passes with his fingers, and rose without a +word. + +Yankie had been hog-tied by the champion roper of the Southwest. + + + + +Chapter XV + +Lee Plays a Leading Rôle + + +A man on horseback clattered up the street and drew up at the Snaith +house. He was a sandy-complexioned man with a furtive-eyed, apologetic +manner. Miss Bertie Lee recognized him as one of the company riders named +Dumont. + +"Is yore paw home, Miss Lee?" he asked breathlessly. + +"Some one to see you, dad," called the girl over her shoulder. + +Wallace Snaith sauntered out to the porch. "'Lo, Dumont!" + +"I claim that hundred dollars reward. I done found 'em, Mr. Snaith." + +Lee, about to enter the house, stopped in her tracks. + +"Where?" demanded the cattleman jubilantly. + +"Down the river--hid in a dugout they done built. I'll take you-all +there." + +"I knew they couldn't be far away when that first hawss came in all +blood-stained. Hustle up four or five of the boys, Dumont. Get 'em here +on the jump." In the face of the big drover could be read a grim elation. + +His daughter confronted him. "What are you going to do, dad?" + +"None o' yore business, Lee. You ain't in this," he answered promptly. + +"You're going out to kill those men," she charged, white to the lips. + +"They'll git a trial if they surrender peaceable." + +"What kind of a trial?" she asked scornfully. "They know better than to +surrender. They'll fight." + +"That'll suit me too." + +"Don't, dad. Don't do it," the girl begged. "They're game men. They +fought fair. I've made inquiries. You mustn't kill them like wolves." + +"Mustn't I?" he said stubbornly. "I reckon that's just what I'm goin' to +do. I'll learn Homer Webb to send his bad men to Los Portales lookin' +for trouble. He can't kill my riders an' get away with it." + +"You know he didn't do that. This boy--Clanton, if that's his name--had a +feud with the Roush family. One of them betrayed his sister. Far as I can +find out these Roush brothers were the scum of the earth," Her bosom rose +and fell fast with excitement. + +"Howcome you to know so much about it, girl? Not that it makes any +difference. They may have been hellhounds, but they were my riders. These +gunmen went into my own place an' shot 'em down. They picked the fight. +There's no manner o' doubt about that." + +"They didn't do it on your account. I tell you there was an old feud." + +"Webb thinks he's got the world by the tail for a downhill pull. I'll +show him." + +"Dad, you're starting war. Don't you see that? If you shoot these men +he'll get back by killing some of yours. And so it will go on." + +"I reckon. But I'm not startin' the war. He did that. It was the boldest +piece of cheek I ever heard tell of--those two gunmen goin' into +Tolleson's and shootin' up my riders. They got to pay the price." + +Lee cried out in passionate protest. "It'll be just plain murder, dad. +That's all." + +"What's got into you, girl?" he demanded, seizing her by the arms. The +chill of anger and suspicion filmed his light-blue eyes. "I won't stand +for this kind of talk. You go right into the house an' 'tend to yore own +knittin'. I've heard about enough from you." + +He swung her round by the shoulders and gave a push. + +Lee did not go to her room and fling herself upon the bed in an impotent +storm of tears. She stood thinking, her little fists clenched and her +eyes flashing. Civilization has trained women to feebleness of purpose, +but this girl stood outside of conventional viewpoints. It was her habit +to move directly to the thing she wanted. Her decision was swift, the +action following upon it immediate. + +She lifted her rifle down from the deer-horn rack where it rested and +buckled the ammunition belt around her waist. Swiftly she ran to the +corral, roped her bronco, saddled it, and cinched. As she galloped away +she saw her father striding toward the stable. His shout reached her, but +she did not wait to hear what he wanted. + +The hoofs of her pony drummed down the street. She flew across the desert +and struck the river just below town. The quirt attached to her wrist +rose and fell. She made no allowance for prairie-dog holes, but went at +racing speed through the rabbit weed and over the slippery salt-grass +bumps. + +In front of the cave she jerked the horse to a halt. + +"Hello, in there!" + +The tumble weeds moved and the head of Prince appeared. He pushed the +brush aside and came out. + +"Buenos tardes, señorita. Didn't know you were comin' back again to-day." + +"You've been seen," she told him hurriedly as she dismounted. "Dad's +gathering his men. He means to make you trouble." + +Billie looked away in the direction of the town. A mile or more away he +saw a cloud of dust. It was moving toward them. + +"I see he does," he answered quietly. + +"Quick! Get your friend out. Take my horse." + +He shook his head slowly. "No use. They would see us an' run us down. +We'll make a stand here." + +"But you can't do that. They'll surround you. They'll send for more men +if they need 'em." + +"Likely. But Jim couldn't stand such a ride even if there was a +chance--and there isn't, not with yore horse carryin' double. We'll +hold the fort, Miss Lee, while you make yore get-away into the hills. +An' thank you for comin'. We'll never forget all you've done for us +these days." + +"I'm not going." + +"Not goin'?" + +"I'm going to stay right here. They won't dare to shoot at you if I'm +here." + +"I never did see such a girl as you," admitted Prince, smiling at her. +"You take the cake. But we can't let you do that for us. We can't skulk +behind a young lady's skirts to save our hides. It's not etiquette on the +Pecos." + +The red color burned through her dusky skin. "I'm not doing it for you," +she said stiffly. "It's dad I'm thinking about. I don't want him mixed +up in such a business. I won't have it either." + +"You'd better go to him and talk it over, then." + +"No. I'll stay here. He wouldn't listen to me a minute." + +Billie was still patient with her. "I don't think you'd better stay, Miss +Lee. I know just how you feel. But there are a lot of folks won't +understand howcome you to take up with yore father's enemies. They'll +talk a lot of foolishness likely." + +The cowpuncher blushed at his own awkward phrasing of the situation, yet +the thing had to be said and he knew no other way to say it. + +She flashed a resentful glance at him. Her cheeks, too, flamed. + +"I don't care what they say since it won't be true," she answered +proudly. "You needn't argue. I've staked out a claim here." + +"I wish you'd go. There's still time." + +The girl turned on him angrily with swift, animal grace. "I tell you it's +none of your business whether I go or stay. I'll do just as I please." + +Prince gave up his attempt to change her mind. If she would stay, she +would. He set about arranging the defense. + +Young Clanton crept out to the mouth of the cave and lay down with his +rifle beside him. His friend piled up the tumble weeds in front of him. + +"We're right enough in front--easy enough to stand 'em off there," +reflected Billie, aloud. "But I'd like to know what's to prevent us from +being attacked in the rear. They can crawl up through the brush till +they're right on top of the bank. They can post sharpshooters in the +mesquite across the river so that if we come out to check those snakin' +forward, the snipers can get us." + +"I'll sit on the bank above the cave and watch 'em," announced Lee. + +"An' what if they mistook you for one of us?" asked Prince dryly. + +"They can't, with me wearing a red coat." + +"You're bound to be in this, aren't you?" His smile was more friendly +than the words. It admitted reluctant admiration of her. + +The party on the other side of the river was in plain sight now. Jim +counted four--five--six of them as they deployed. Presently Prince threw +a bullet into the dust at the feet of one of the horses as they moved +forward. It was meant as a warning not to come closer and accepted as +one. + +After a minute of consultation a single horseman rode to the bank of the +stream. + +"You over there," he shouted. + +"It's dad," said Lee. + +"You'd better surrender peaceable. We've come to git you alive or dead," +shouted Snaith. + +"What do you want us for?" asked Prince. + +"You know well enough what for. You killed one of my punchers." + +Clanton groaned. "Only one?" + +"An' another may die any day. Come out with yore hands up." + +"We'd rather stay here, thank you," Billie called back. + +Snaith leaned forward in the saddle. "Is that you over there, Lee?" + +"Yes, dad." + +"Gone back on yore father and taken up with Webb's scalawags, have you?" + +"No, I haven't," she called back. "But I'm going to see they get fair +play." + +"You git out of there, girl, and on this side of the river!" Snaith +roared angrily. "Pronto! Do you hear?" + +"There's no use shouting yourself hoarse, dad. I can hear you easily, and +I'm not coming." + +"Not comin'! D'ye mean you've taken up with a pair of killers, of outlaws +we 're goin' to put out of business? You talk like a--like a--" + +"Go slow, Snaith!" cut in Prince sharply. "Can't you see she's tryin' to +save you from murder?" + +"We're goin' to take those boys back to Los Portales with us--or their +bodies. I don't care a whole lot which. You light a shuck out of there, +Lee." + +"No," she answered stubbornly. "If you're so bent on shooting at some one +you can shoot at me." + +The cattleman stormed and threatened, but in the end he had to give up +the point. His daughter was as obstinate as he was. He retired in +volcanic humor. + +"I never could get dad to give up swearing," his daughter told her new +friends by way of humorous apology. "Wonder what he'll do now." + +"Wait till night an' drive us out of our hole, I expect," replied Prince. + +"Will he wait? I'm not so sure of that," said Jim. "See. His men are +scattering. They're up to somethin'." + +"They're going down to cross the river to get behind us just as you said +they would," predicted Lee. + +She was right. Half an hour later, from her position on the bank above +the cave, she caught a glimpse of a man slipping forward through the +brush. She called to Prince, who crept out from behind the tumble weeds +to join her. A bullet dug into the soft clay not ten inches from his +head. He scrambled up and lay down behind a patch of soapweed a few yards +from the girl. Another bullet from across the river whistled past the +cowpuncher. + +Lee rose and walked across to the bushes where he lay crouched. Very +deliberately she stood there, shading her eyes from the sun as she looked +toward the sharpshooters. Twice they had taken a chance, because of the +distance between her and Prince. She intended they should know how close +she was to him now. + +Billie could not conceal his anxiety for her. "Why don't you get back +where you were? I got as far as I could from you on purpose. What's the +sense of you comin' right up to me when you see they're shootin' at me?" + +"That's why I came up closer. They'll have to stop it as long as I'm +here." + +"You can't stay there the rest of yore natural life, can you?" he +asked with manifest annoyance. Even if he got out of his present danger +alive--and Billie had to admit to himself that the chances did not look +good--he knew it would be cast up to him some day that he had used Lee +Snaith's presence as a shield against his enemies. "Why don't you act +reasonable an' ride back to town, like a girl ought to do? You've been a +good friend to us. There's nothin' more you can do. It's up to us to +fight our way out." + +He took careful aim and fired. A man in the bushes two hundred yards back +of them scuttled to his feet and ran limping off. Billie covered the +dodging man with his rifle carefully, then lowered his gun without +firing. + +"Let him go," said Prince aloud. "Mr. Dumont won't bother us a whole lot. +He's gun-shy anyhow." + +From across the river came a scatter of bullets. + +"They've got to hit closeter to that before they worry me," Jim called to +the two above. + +"I don't think they shot to hit. They're tryin' to scare Miss Lee away," +called down Billie. + +"As if I didn't know dad wouldn't let 'em take any chances with me here," +the girl said confidently "If we can hold out till night I can stay here +and keep shooting while you two slip away and hide. Before morning your +friends ought to arrive." + +"If they got yore message." + +"Oh, they got it. Jack Goodheart carried it." + +The riflemen across the river were silent for a time. When they began +sniping again, it was from such an angle that they could aim at the cave +without endangering those above. Both Clanton and Prince returned the +fire. + +Presently Lee touched on the shoulder the man beside her. + +"Look!" + +She pointed to a cloud of smoke behind them. From it tongues of fire +leaped up into the air. Farther to the right a second puff of smoke could +be seen, and beyond it another and still a fourth jet. + +After a moment of dead silence Prince spoke. "They've fired the prairie. +The wind is blowin' toward us. They mean to smoke us out." + +"Yes." + +"We'll be driven down into the open bed of the river where they can pick +us off." + +The girl nodded. + +"Now, will you leave us?" Billie turned on her triumphantly. He could at +least choose the conditions of the last stand they must make. "They've +called our bluff. It's a showdown." + +"Now I'll go less than ever," she said quietly. + + + + +Chapter XVI + +Three Modern Musketeers + + +The fierce crackling of the flames rolled toward them. The wind served at +least the one purpose of lifting the smoke so that it did not stifle +those on the river-bank. Clanton crept up from the cave and joined them. + +"Looks like we're goin' out with fireworks, Billie," he grinned. + +"That's nonsense," said Lee sharply. "There's a way of escape, if only we +can find it." + +"Blamed if I see it," the young fellow answered. As he looked at her the +eyes in his pale face glowed. "But I see one thing. You're the best +little pilgrim that ever I met up with." + +The heat of the flames came to them in waves. + +"You walk out, climb on yore horse, an' ride down the river, Miss Lee. +Then we'll make a break for cover. You can't do anything more for us," +insisted Prince. + +"That's right," agreed the younger man. "We'll play this out alone. You +cut yore stick an' drift. If we git through I'll sure come back an' thank +you proper some day." + +Recently Lee had read "The Three Musketeers." From it there flashed to +her a memory of the picture on the cover. + +"I know what we'll do," she said, coughing from a swallow of smoke. She +stepped between them and tucked an arm under the elbow of each. "All +for one, and one for all. Forward march!" + +They moved down the embankment side by side to the sand-bed close to the +stream, each of the three carrying a rifle tucked close to the side. From +the chaparral keen eyes watched them, covering every step they took with +ready weapons. Miss Lee's party turned to the right and followed the +river-bed in the direction of Los Portales. For the wind was driving the +fire down instead of up. Those in the mesquite held a parallel course to +cut off any chance of escape. + +Some change of wind currents swept the smoke toward them in great +billows. It enveloped the fugitives in a dense cloud. + +"Get yore head down to the water," Billie called into the ear of the +girl. + +They lay on the rocks in the shallow water and let the black smoke waves +pour over them. Lee felt herself strangling and tried to rise, but a +heavy hand on her shoulder held her face down. She sputtered and coughed, +fighting desperately for breath. A silk handkerchief was slipped over her +face and knotted behind. She felt sick and dizzy. The knowledge flashed +across her mind that she could not stand this long. In its wake came +another dreadful thought. Was she going to die? + +The hand on her shoulder relaxed. Lee felt herself lifted to her feet. +She caught at Billie's arm to steady herself, for she was still queer in +the head. For a few moments she stood there coughing the smoke out of her +lungs. His arm slipped around her shoulder. + +"Take yore time," he advised. + +A second shift of the breeze had swept the smoke away. This had saved +their lives, but it had also given Snaith's men another chance at them A +bullet whistled past the head of Clanton, who was for the time a few +yards from his friends. Instantly he whipped the rifle up and fired. + +"No luck" he grumbled. "My eyes are sore from the smoke. I can't half +see." + +Lee was not yet quite herself. The experience through which she had just +passed had shaken her nerves. + +"Let's get out of here quick!" she cried. + +"Take yore time. There's no hurry," Prince iterated. "They won't shoot +again, now Jim's close to us." + +The younger man grinned, as he had a habit of doing when the cards fell +against him. "Where'd we go? Look, they've headed us off. We can't +travel forward. We can't go back. I expect we'll have to file on the +quarter-section where we are," he drawled. + +A rider had galloped forward and was dismounting close to the river. He +took shelter behind a boulder. + +Billie swept with a glance the plain to their right. A group of horsemen +was approaching. "More good citizens comin' to be in at the finish of +this man hunt. They ought to build a grand stand an' invite the whole +town," he said sardonically. + +A water-gutted arroyo broke the line of liver-bank. Jim, who was limping +heavily, stopped and examined it. + +"Let's stay here, Billie, an' fight it out. No use foolin' ourselves. +We're trapped. Might as well call for a showdown here as anywhere." + +Prince nodded. "Suits me. We'll make our stand right at the head of the +arroyo." He turned abruptly to the girl. "It's got to be good-bye here, +Miss Lee." + +"That's whatever, littlest pilgrim," agreed Clanton promptly. "If you get +a chance send word to Webb an' tell him how it was with us." + +Her lip trembled. She knew that in the shadow of the immediate future red +tragedy lurked. She had done her best to avert it and had failed. The +very men she was trying to save had dismissed her. + +"Must I go?" she begged. + +"You must, Miss Lee. We're both grateful to you. Don't you ever doubt +that!" Billie said, his earnest gaze full in hers. + +The girl turned away and went up through the sand, her eyes filmed with +tears so that she could not see where she was going. The two men entered +the arroyo. Before they reached the head of it she could hear the crack +of exploding rifles. One of the men across the river was firing at them +and they were throwing bullets back at him. She wondered, shivering, +whether it was her father. + +It must have been a few seconds later that she heard the joyous +"Eee-yip-eee!" of Prince. Almost at the same time a rider came splashing +through the shallow water of the river toward her. + +The man was her father. He swung down from the saddle and snatched her +into his arms. His haggard face showed her how anxious he had been. She +began to sob, overcome, perhaps, as much by his emotion as her own. + +"I'll blacksnake the condemned fool that set fire to the prairie!" he +swore, gulping down a lump in his throat. "Tell me you-all aren't hurt, +Bertie Lee.... God! I thought you was swallowed up in that fire." + +"Daddie, daddie I couldn't help it. I had to do it," she wept. "And--I +thought I would choke to death, but Mr. Prince saved me. He kept my +face close to the water and made me breathe through a handkerchief." + +"Did he?" The man's face set grimly again. "Well, that won't save him. As +for you, miss, you're goin' to yore room to live on bread an' water +for a week. I wish you were a boy for about five minutes so's I could +wear you to a frazzle with a cowhide." + +Snaith's intentions toward Clanton and Prince had to be postponed for the +present, the cattleman discovered a few minutes later. When he and Lee +emerged from the river-bed to the bank above, the first thing he saw was +a group of cowpunchers shaking hands gayly with the two fugitives. His +jaw dropped. + +"Where in Mexico did they come from?" he asked himself aloud. + +"I expect they're Webb's riders," his daughter answered with a little sob +of joy. "I thought they'd never come." + +"You thought.... How did you know they were comin'?" + +"Oh, I sent for them," The girl's dark eyes met his fearlessly. A flicker +of a smile crept into them. "I've had the best of you all round, dad. +You'd better make that two weeks on bread and water." + +Wallace Snaith gathered his forces and retreated from the field of +battle. A man on a spent horse met him at his own gate as he dismounted. +He handed the cattleman a note. + +On the sheet of dirty paper was written: + +The birds you want are nesting in a dugout on the river four miles below +town. You got to hurry or they'll be flown. + +J.Y. + +Snaith read the note, tore it in half, and tossed the pieces away. He +turned to the messenger. + +"Tell Joe he's just a few hours late. His news isn't news any more." + + + + +Chapter XVII + +"Peg-Leg" Warren + + +Webb drove his cattle up the river, the Staked Plains on his right. The +herd was a little gaunt from the long journey and he took the last part +of the trek in easy stages. Since he had been awarded the contract for +beeves at the Fort, by Department orders the old receiving agent had been +transferred. The new appointee was a brother-in-law of McRobert and the +owner of the Flying V Y did not want to leave any loophole for rejection +of the steers. + +With the clean blood of sturdy youth in him Clanton recovered rapidly +from the shoulder wound. In order to rest him as much as possible, +Webb put him in charge of the calf wagon which followed the drag and +picked up any wobbly-legged bawlers dropped on the trail. During the +trip Jim discovered for himself the truth of what Billie had said, +that the settlers with small ranches were lined up as allies of the +Snaith-McRobert faction. These men, owners of small bunches of cows, +claimed that Webb and the other big drovers rounded up their cattle in +the drive, ran the road brand of the traveling outfit on these strays, +and sold them as their own. The story of the drovers was different. +They charged that these "nesters" were practically rustlers preying upon +larger interests passing through the country to the Indian reservations. +Year by year the feeling had grown more bitter, That Snaith and McRobert +backed the river settlers was an open secret. A night herder had been +shot from the mesquite not a month before. The blame had been laid upon a +band of bronco Mescaleros, but the story was whispered that a "bad +man" in the employ of the Lazy S M people, a man known as "Mysterious +Pete Champa," boasted later while drunk that he had fired the shot. + +Jim had heard a good deal about this Mysterious Pete. He was a killer of +the most deadly kind because he never gave warning of his purpose. The +man was said to be a crack shot, quick as chain lightning, without the +slightest regard for human life. He moved furtively, spoke little when +sober, and had no scruples against assassination from ambush. Nobody in +the Southwest was more feared than he. + +This man crossed the path of Clanton when the herd was about fifty miles +from the Fort. + +The beeves had been grazing forward slowly all afternoon and were +loose-bedded early for the night. Cowpunchers are as full of larks as +schoolboys on a holiday. Now they were deciding a bet as to whether +Tim McGrath, a red-headed Irish boy, could ride a vicious gelding that +had slipped into the remuda. Billie Prince roped the front feet of the +horse and threw him. The animal was blindfolded and saddled. + +Doubtful of his own ability to stick to the seat, Tim maneuvered the +buckskin over to the heavy sand before he mounted. The gelding went +sun-fishing into the air, then got his head between his legs and gave his +energy to stiff-legged bucking. He whirled as he plunged forward, went +round and round furiously, and unluckily for Tim reached the hard ground. +The jolts jerked the rider forward and back like a jack-knife without a +spring. He went flying over the head of the bronco to the ground. + +The animal, red-eyed with hate, lunged for the helpless puncher. A second +time Billie's rope snaked forward. The loop fell true over the head of +the gelding, tightened, and swung the outlaw to one side so that his +hoofs missed the Irishman. Tim scrambled to his feet and fled for safety. + +The cowpunchers whooped joyously. In their lives near-tragedy was too +frequent to carry even a warning. Dad Wrayburn hummed a stanza of +"Windy Bill" for the benefit of McGrath: + +"Bill Garrett was a cowboy, an' he could ride, you bet; He said the bronc +he couldn't bust was one he hadn't met. He was the greatest talker that +this country ever saw Until his good old rim-fire went a-driftin' down +the draw." + +Two men had ridden up unnoticed and were watching with no obvious +merriment the contest. Now one of them spoke. + +"Where can I find Homer Webb?" + +Dad turned to the speaker, a lean man with a peg-leg, brown as a Mexican, +hard of eye and mouth. The gray bristles on the unshaven face advertised +him as well on into middle age. Wrayburn recognized the man as "Peg-Leg" +Warren, one of the most troublesome nesters on the river. + +"He's around here somewhere." Dad turned to Canton. "Seen anything of the +old man, Jim?" + +"Here he comes now." + +Webb rode up to the group. At sight of Warren and his companion the face +of the drover set. + +"I've come to demand an inspection of yore herd," broke out the nester +harshly. + +"Why demand it? Why not just ask for it?" cut back Webb curtly. + +"I'm not splittin' words. What I'm sayin' is that if you've got any of my +cattle here I want 'em." + +"You're welcome to them." Webb turned to his segundo. "Joe, ride through +the herd with this man. If there's any stock there with his brand, +cut 'em out for him. Bring the bunch up to the chuck wagon an' let me see +'em before he drives 'em away." + +The owner of the Flying V Y brand wasted no more words. He swung his +cowpony around and rode back to the chuck wagon to superintend the +jerking of the hind quarters of a buffalo. + +He was still busy at this when the nester returned with half a dozen +cattle cut out from the herd. In those days of the big drives many strays +drifted by chance into every road outfit passing through the country. It +was no reflection on the honesty of a man to ask for an inspection and to +find one's cows among the beeves following the trail. + +Webb walked over to the little bunch gathered by Warren and looked over +each one of the steers. + +"That big red with the white stockin's goes with the herd. The rest may +be yours," the drover said. + +"The roan's mine too. My brand's the Circle Diamond. See here where it's +been blotted out." + +"I bought that steer from the Circle Lazy H five hundred miles from here. +You'll find a hundred like it in the herd," returned Webb calmly. + +Warren turned to his companion. "Pete, you know this steer. Ain't it +mine?" + +"Sure." The man to whom Warren had turned for confirmation was a slight, +trim, gray-eyed man. Sometimes the gray of the eyes turned almost +black, but always they were hard as onyx. There was about the man +something sinister, something of eternal wariness. His glance had a habit +of sweeping swiftly from one person to another as if it questioned what +purpose might lie below the unruffled surface. + +Homer Webb called to Prince and to Wrayburn. "Billie--Dad, know anything +about this big red steer?" + +"Know it? We'd ought to," answered Wrayburn promptly. "It's the ladino +beef that started the stampede on the Brazos--made us more trouble than +any ten critters of the bunch." + +"You bought it from the Circle Lazy H," supplemented Billie. + +Peg-Leg Warren laughed harshly. "O' course they'll swear to it. You're +givin' them their job, ain't you?" + +The drover looked at him steadily. "Yes, I'm givin' the boys a job, but I +haven't bought 'em body an' soul, Warren." + +The eyes of the nester were a barometer of his temper. "That's my beef, +Webb." + +"It never was yours an' it never will be." + +"Raw work, Webb. I'll not stand for it." + +"Don't overplay yore hand," cautioned the owner of the trail herd. + +Clanton had ridden up and was talking to the cook. A couple of other +punchers had dropped up to the chuck wagon, casually as it were. + +Warren glared at them savagely, but swallowed his rage. "It's yore say-so +right now, but I'll collect what's comin' to me one of these days. You're +liable to find this trail hotter 'n hell with the lid on." + +"I'm not lookin' for trouble, but I'm not runnin' away from it," returned +Webb evenly. + +"You're sure goin' to find it--a heap more of it than you can ride herd +on. That right, Pete?" + +The gray-eyed man nodded slightly. Mysterious Pete had the habit of +taciturnity. His gaze slid in a searching, sidelong fashion from Webb to +Prince, on to Wrayburn, across to Clanton, and back to the drover. No +wolf in the encinal could have been warier. + +"Cut out the roan," ordered Webb. + +The ladino was separated from the bunch of Circle Diamond cattle. Warren +and his satellite drove the rest from the camp. + +"War, looks like," commented Dad Wrayburn. + +"Yes," agreed the drover. "I wish it didn't have to be. But Peg-Leg +called for a showdown. He came here to force my hand. As regards the +beef, he might have had it an' welcome. But that wouldn't have satisfied +him. He'd have taken it for a sign of weakness if I had given way." + +"What will he do?" asked young McGrath. + +"I don't know. We'll have to keep our eyes open every minute of the day +an' night. Are you with me, boys?" + +Tim threw his hat into the air and let out a yell. "Surest thing you +know." + +"Damfidon't sit in an' take a hand," said Wrayburn. + +One after another agreed to back the boss. + +"But don't think it will be a picnic," urged Webb. "We'll know we've been +in a fight before we get through. With a crowd of gunmen like Mysterious +Pete against us we'll have hard travelin'. I'd side-step this if I could, +but I can't." + + + + +Chapter XVIII + +A Stampede + + +Clanton took his turn at night herding for the first time the day of +Warren's visit to the camp. Under a star-strewn sky he circled the +sleeping herd, humming softly a stanza of a cowboy song. Occasionally he +met Billie Prince or Tim McGrath circling in the opposite direction. The +scene was peaceful as old age and beautiful as a fairy tale. For under +the silvery light of night the Southwest takes on a loveliness foreign to +it in the glare of the sun. The harsh details of day are lost in a +luminous glow of mystic charm. + +Jim had just ridden past Billie when the silence was shattered by a +sudden fury of sound. The popping of revolvers, the clanging of cow +bells, the clash of tin boilers--all that medley of discord which lends +volume to the horror known as a charivari--tore to shreds the harmony of +the night. + +"What's that?" called Billie. + +The hideous dissonance came from the side of the herd farthest from the +camp. Together the two riders galloped toward it. + +"Peg-Leg Warren's work," guessed Clanton. + +"Sure," agreed Billie. "Trying to stampede the herd." + +Already the cattle were bawling in wild terror, surging toward the camp +to escape this unknown danger. Both of the punchers drew their revolvers +and fired rapidly into the herd. It was impossible to check the rush, but +they succeeded in deflecting it from the sleeping men. Before the weapons +were empty, the ground shook with a thunder of hoofs as the herd fled +into the darkness. + +Billie found himself in the van of the stampede. He was caught in the +rush and to save himself from being trampled down was forced to join the +flight. He was the center of a moving sea of backs, so hemmed in that if +his pony stumbled life would be trodden out of him in an instant. Except +for occasional buffalo wallows the ground was level, but at any moment +his mount might break a leg in a prairie-dog hole. + +For the first mile or two the cattle were packed in a dense mass, +shoulder to shoulder, all lumbering forward in wild-eyed panic. The noise +of their hoofs was like the continuous roll of thunder and the cloud of +dust so thick that the throat of Prince was swollen with it. It was only +after the stampeded cattle had covered several miles that the formation +of their aimless charge grew looser. The pace slackened as the steers +became leg-weary. Now and again small bunches dropped from the drag or +from one of the flanks. Gradually Billie was able to work toward the +outskirts. His chance came when the herd poured into a swale and from it +emerged into a more broken terrain. Directly in front of the leaders was +a mesa with a sharp incline. Instead of taking the hill, the stampede +split, part flowing to the right and part to the left. The cow-puncher +urged his flagged horse straight up the hill. + +He had escaped with his life, but the bronco was completely exhausted. +Billie unsaddled and freed the cowpony. He knew it would not wander far +now. Stretched out at full length on the buffalo grass, the cowboy drank +into his lungs the clean, cold night air. His tongue was swollen, his +lips cracked and bleeding. The alkali dust, sifting into His eyes, had +left them red and sore. Every inch of his unshaven face, his hands, and +his clothes was covered with a fine, white powder. For a long drink of +mountain water he would gladly have given a month's pay. + +Within the hour Billie resaddled and took the back trail. There was no +time to lose. He must get back to camp, notify Webb where the stampede +was moving, and join the other riders in an all-night and all-day +round-up of the scattered herd. Since daybreak he had been in the saddle, +and he knew that for at least twenty-four hours longer he would not leave +it except to change from a worn-out horse to a fresh one. + +When Prince reached camp shortly after midnight he found that the +stampede of the cattle had for the moment fallen into second place in the +minds of his companions. They were digging a grave for the body of Tim +McGrath. The young Irishman had been shot down just as the attack on the +herd began. It was a reasonable guess to suppose that he had come face to +face with the raiders, who had shot him on the theory that dead men tell +no tales. + +But the cowpuncher had lived till his friends reached him. He had told +them with his dying breath that Mysterious Pete had shot him without a +word of warning and that after he fell from his horse Peg-Leg Warren rode +up and fired into his body. + +Jim Clanton called his friend to one side. "I'm goin' to sneak out an' +take a lick at them fellows, Billie. Want to go along?" + +"What's yore notion? How're you goin' to manage it?" + +"Me, I'm goin' to bushwhack Warren or some of his killers from the +chaparral." + +Prince had seen once before that cold glitter in the eyes of the hill +man. It was the look that comes into the face of the gunman when he is +intent on the kill. + +"I wouldn't do that if I was you, Jim," Billie advised. "This ain't our +personal fight. We're under orders. We'd better wait an' see what the +old man wants us to do. An? I don't reckon I would shoot from ambush +anyhow." + +"Wouldn't you? I would," The jaw of the younger man snapped tight. +"What chance did they give poor Tim, I'd like to know? He was one of the +best-hearted pilgrims ever rode up the trail, an' they shot him down like +a coyote. I'm goin' to even the score." + +"Don't you, Jim; don't you." Billie laid a hand on the shoulder of his +partner in adventure. "Because they don't fight in the open is no reason +for us to bushwhack too. That's no way for a white man to attack his +enemies." + +But the inheritance from feudist ancestors was strong in young Clanton. +He had seen a comrade murdered in cold blood. All the training of his +primitive and elemental nature called for vengeance. + +"No use beefin', Billie. You don't have to go if you don't want to. But +I'm goin'. I didn't christen myself Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em for nothin'." + +"Put it up to Webb first. Let's hear what he has got to say about it," +urged Prince. "We've all got to pull together. You can't play a lone hand +in this." + +"I'll put it up to Webb when I've done the job. He won't be responsible +for it then. He can cut loose from me if he wants to. So long, Billie. +I'll sleep on Peg-Leg Warren's trail till I git him." + +"Give up that fool notion, Jim. I can't let you go. It wouldn't be fair +to you or to Webb either. We're all in this together." + +"What'll you do to prevent my goin'?" + +"I'll tell the old man if I have to. Sho, kid! Let's not you an' me have +trouble." Billie's gentle smile pleaded for their friendship. "We've been +pals ever since we first met up. Don't go off on this crazy idea like a +half-cocked hogleg." + +"We're not goin' to quarrel, Billie. Nothin' to that. But I'm goin' +through." The boyish jaw clamped tight again. The eyes that looked at his +friend might have been of tempered steel for hardness. + +"No." + +"Yes." + +Clanton was leaning against the rump of his horse. He turned, indolently, +gathered his body suddenly, and vaulted to the saddle. Like a shot he was +off into the night. + +Billie, startled at the swiftness of his going, could only stare after +him impotently. He knew that it would be impossible to find one lone +rider in the darkness. + +Slowly he walked back to the grave. The riders of the Flying V Y were +gathered round in a quiet and silent group. They were burying the body of +him who had been the gayest and lightest-hearted of their circle only a +few hours before. + +As soon as the last shovelful of earth had been pressed down upon the +mound, Webb turned to business. The herd scattered over thirty miles of +country must be gathered at once and he set about the round-up. He had +had bad runs on the trail before and he knew the job before his men was +no easy one. + +They jogged out on a Spanish trot in the trail of the stampede. The chuck +wagon was to meet them at Spring River next morning, where the first +gather of beeves would be brought and held. All night they rode, tough as +hickory, strong as whip-cord. Into the desert sky sifted the gray light +which preceded the coming of day. Banners of mauve and amethyst and topaz +were flung across the horizon, to give place to glorious splashes of +purple and pink and crimson. The sun, a flaming ball of fire, rose big as +a washtub from the edge of the desert. + +In that early morning light crept over the plain little bunches of cattle +followed by brown, lithe riders. Like spokes of a wheel each group moved +to a hub. Old Black Ned, the cook, was the focus of their travel. For at +Spring River he had waiting for them hot coffee, flaky biscuits, steaks +hot from the coals. Each rider seized a tin cup, a tin plate, a knife and +fork, and was ready for the best Uncle Ned had to offer. + +The remuda had been brought up by the wranglers. While the horses milled +about in a cloud of dust, each puncher selected another mount. He +moved forward, his loop trailing, eye fixed on the one pony, out of one +hundred and fifty, that he wanted for the day's work. Suddenly a rope +would snake forward past half a dozen broncos and drop about the neck of +an animal near the heart of the herd. The twisting, dodging cowpony would +surrender instantly and submit to being cut out from the band. Saddles +were slapped on in a hurry and the riders were again on their way. + +Through the mesquite they rode, slackening speed for neither gullies nor +barrancas. Webb gave orders crisply, disposed of his men in such a way +as to make of them a drag-net through which no cattle could escape, and +began to tighten the loops for the drive back to camp. + +By the middle of the afternoon the chuck wagon was in sight. The ponies +were fagged, the men weary. For thirty-six hours these riders, whose +muscles seemed tough as whalebone, had been almost steadily in the +saddle. They slouched along now easily, always in a gray cloud of dust +raised by the bellowing cattle. + +The new gather of cattle was thrown in with those that had been rounded +up during the night. The punchers unsaddled their worn mounts and drifted +to the camp-fire one by one. Ravenously they ate, then rolled up in their +blankets and fell asleep at once. To-night they had neither heart nor +energy for the gay badinage that usually flew back and forth. + +Night was still heavy over the land when Uncle Ned's gong wakened them. +The moon was disappearing behind a scudding cloud, but stars could be +seen by thousands. Across the open plain a chill wind blew. + +All was bustle and confusion, but out of the turmoil emerged order. The +wranglers, already fed, moved into the darkness to bring up the remuda. +Tin cups and plates rattled merrily. Tongues wagged. Bits of repartee, +which are the salt of the cowpuncher's life, were flung across the fire +from one; to another. Already the death of Tim McGrath was falling into +the background of their swift, turbulent lives. After all the cowboy dies +young. Tim's soul had wandered out across the great divide only a few +months before that of others among them. + +Out of the mist emerged the desert, still gray and vague and without +detail. The day's work was astir once more. With the nickering of horses, +the bawling of cattle, and the shouts of men as an orchestral +accompaniment, light filtered into the valley for the drama of the new +sunrise. Once more the tireless riders swept into the mesquite through +the clutching cholla to comb another segment of country in search of the +beeves not yet reclaimed. + +That day's drive brought practically the entire herd together again. A +few had not been recovered, but Webb set these down to profit and loss. +What he regretted most was that the cattle were not in as good condition +as they had been before the stampede. + +The drover spent the next day cutting out the animals that did not belong +to him. Of these a good many had been collected in the round-up. It was +close to evening before the job was finished and the outfit returned to +camp. + +Billie rode up to the wagon with the old man. Leaning against a saddle on +the ground, a flank steak in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, +lounged Jim Clanton. + +Webb, hard-eyed and stiff, looked at the young man, "Had a pleasant +vacation, Clanton?" + +"I don't know as I would call it a vacation, Mr. Webb. I been attending +to some business," explained Jim. + +"Yours or mine?" + +"Yours an' mine." + +"You've been gone forty-eight hours. The rest of us have worked our heads +off gettin' together the herd. I reckon you can explain why you weren't +with us." + +Yellow with dust, unshaven, mud caked in his hair, hands torn by the +cat-claw, Homer Webb was red-eyed from lack of sleep and from the +irritation of the alkali powder. This young rider had broken the first +law of the cowpuncher, to be on the job in time of trouble and to stay +there as long as he could back a horse. The owner of the Flying V Y was +angry clear through at his desertion and he intended to let the boy know +it. + +"I went out to look for Peg-Leg Warren" said Clanton apologetically. + +Webb stopped in his stride. "You did? Who told you to do that?" + +"I didn't need to be told. I've got horse sense myself." Jim spoke a +little sulkily. He knew that he ought to have stayed with his employer. + +"Well, what did you do when you found Peg-Leg--make him a visit for a +couple of days?" demanded the drover with sarcasm. + +"No, I don't know him well enough to visit--only well enough to shoot +at." + +"What's that?" asked Webb sharply. + +"Think I was goin' to let 'em plug Tim McGrath an' get away with it?" +snapped Jim. + +"That's my business--not yours. What did you do? Come clean." + +"Laid out in the chaparral till I got a chance to gun him," the young +fellow answered sullenly. + +"And then?" + +"Plugged a hole through him an' made my get-away." + +"You mean you've killed Peg-Leg Warren?" + +"He'll never be any deader," said Clanton coolly. + +The dark blood flushed into Webb's face. He wasted no pity on Warren. The +man was a cold-hearted murderer and had reaped only what he had sowed. +But this was no excuse for Clanton, who had deliberately dragged the +Flying V Y into trouble without giving its owner a chance to determine +what form retribution should take. The cowpuncher had gone back to +primitive instincts and elected the blood feud as the necessary form of +reprisal. He had plunged Webb and the other drovers into war without even +a by-your-leave. His answer to murder had been murder. To encourage +this sort of thing would be subversive of all authority and would lead to +anarchy. + +"Get yore time from Yankie, Clanton," said his employer harshly. "Sleep +in camp to-night if you like, but hit the trail in the mornin'. I can't +use men like you." + +He turned away and left the two friends alone. + +Prince was sick at heart. He had warned the young fellow and it had done +no good. His regret was for Jim, not for Warren. He blamed himself for +not having prevented the killing of Peg-Leg. Yet he knew he had done all +that he could. + +"I'm sorry, Jim," he said at last. + +"Oh, well! What's done is done." + +But Billie could not dismiss the matter casually. He saw clearly that +Clanton had come to the parting of the ways and had unconsciously made +his choice for life. From this time he would be known as a bad man. The +brand of the killer would be on him and he would have to make good his +reputation. He would have to live without friends, without love, in the +dreadful isolation of one who is watched and feared by all. Prince felt a +great wave of sympathy for him, of regret for so young a soul gone so +totally astray. Surely the cards had been marked against Jim Clanton. + + + + +Chapter XIX + +A Two-Gun Man + + +Webb delivered his beeves at the Fort and endured with what fortitude he +could the heavy cut which the inspector chose to inflict on him. He paid +off his men and let them shift for themselves. Billie secured a wood +contract at the reservation, employed half a dozen men and teams, cleaned +up a thousand dollars in a couple of months, and rode back to Los +Portales in the late fall. + +He had money in his pocket and youth in his heart. The day was waning as +he rode up the street and in the sunlight the shadows of himself and his +horse were attenuated to farcical lengths. Little dust whirls rose in the +road, spun round in inverted cones like huge tops, and scurried out of +sight across the prairie. Horses drowsed lazily in front of Tolleson's, +anchored to the spot by the simple process of throwing the bridle to the +ground. It all looked good to Billie. He had been hard at work for many +months and he wanted to play. + +A voice hailed him from across the street. "Hello, you Billie!" + +Jim Clanton and Pauline Roubideau were coming out of a store. He +descended from his horse and they fell upon him gayly. + +"'Jour, monsieur," the girl cried, and she gave him warmly both her +hands. + +The honest eyes of Billie devoured her. "Didn't know you were within a +hundred miles of here. This is great." + +"We've moved. We live about twenty miles from town now. But I'm in a good +deal because Jean has bought the livery stable," she explained. + +"I'm sure glad to hear that." + +"You're to come and see us to-night. Supper will be ready in an hour. You +bring him, Jim," ordered the girl. "I'll leave you boys alone now. You +must have heaps to talk about." + +The gaze of the cowpuncher followed her as she went down the street light +and graceful as a fawn. Not since spring had he seen her, though in the +night watches he had often heard the sound of her gay voice, seen the +flash of her bright eyes, and recalled the sweet and gallant buoyancy +that was the dear note of her comradeship. + +Billie looked after his horse and walked with Jim to the Proctor House. +His mind was already busy appraising the changes in his friend. Clanton +was now a "two-gun" man. From each hip hung a heavy revolver, the lower +ends of the holsters tied down in order not to interfere with lightning +rapidity of action. The young man showed no signs of nervousness, but his +chill eyes watched without ceasing the street, doors and windows of +buildings, the faces of passers-by and corner loafers. What Prince had +foreseen was coming to pass. He was paying the penalty of his reputation +as a bad man. Already incessant wariness was the price of life for him. + +A second surprise awaited Billie at the Roubideau house. Polly was in the +kitchen and looked out of the door only to wave a big spoon at them as +they approached. Another young woman welcomed them. At sight of Billie a +deep flush burned under her dark skin. It was, perhaps, because of this +sign of emotion that her greeting was very cavalier. + +"You're back, I see!" + +Prince ignored the hint of hostility in her manner. His big hand gripped +her little one firmly. + +"Yes, I'm back, Miss Lee, and right glad to see you lookin' so well. I'll +never forget the last time we met." + +Neither would she, but she did not care to tell him so. The memory of the +adventure by the river-bank recurred persistently. This lean, sunbaked +cowpuncher with the kind eyes and quiet efficiency of bearing had +impressed himself upon her as no other man had. There was a touch of +scorn in her feeling for herself, because she knew she wanted him for her +mate more than anything else on earth. In the night, alone in the +friendly darkness, her hot face pressed into the cool pillows, she +confessed to herself that she loved him and longed for the sight of his +strong, good-looking face with its smile of whimsical humor. But that was +when she was safe from the eyes of the world. Now, to punish herself and +to prevent him from suspecting the truth, she devoted her attention +mainly to Clanton. + +Jim was openly her admirer. He wanted Lee to know it and did not care who +else observed his devotion. Pauline for one guessed the boy's state of +mind and smiled at it, but Billie wondered whether the smile hid an +aching heart. He knew that little Polly had a very tender feeling for the +boy who had saved her life. More than once during supper it seemed to him +that her soft eyes yearned for the reckless young fellow talking so gayly +to Miss Snaith. The conviction grew in Prince--it found lodgment in his +mind with a pang of despair--that the girl he cared for had given her +love to his friend. He fought against the thought, tried resolutely to +push it from him, but again and again it returned. + +Not until supper was well under way did Jean Roubideau come in from the +corral. He shook hands with Billie and at the same time explained to +Polly his tardiness. + +"Billie is not the only stranger in town to-night. Two or three blew in +just before I left and kept me a few minutes. That Mysterious Pete Champa +was one. You know him, don't you, Jim?" + +The question was asked carelessly, casually, but Prince read in it a +warning to his friend. It meant that he was to be ready for any emergency +which might arise. + +After they had eaten Billie went out to the porch to smoke with Jean. + +"Is there goin' to be trouble between Mysterious Pete an' Jim?" he asked. + +"Don't know. Wouldn't wonder if that was why Champa came to town. If I +was Jim I'd keep an eye in the back of my head when I walked. It's a +cinch Pete will try to get him--if he tries it at all--with all the +breaks in his favor." + +"Is it generally known that Jim was the man who killed Warren?" + +"Yes." Jean stuffed and lit his pipe before he, said anything more. "The +kid can't get away from it now. Folks think of him as a killer. They +watch him when he comes into a bar-room an' they're careful not to cross +him. He's a bad man whether he wants to be or not." + +Billie nodded. "I was afraid it would be that way, but I'm more afraid of +somethin' else. The worst thing that can happen to any man, except to +get killed himself, is to shoot another in cold blood. 'Most always it +gives the fellow a cravin' to kill again. Haven't you noticed it? A kind +of madness gets into the veins of a killer." + +"Sure I've noticed it. He has to be watchin'--watchin'--watchin' all the +time to make sure nobody gits him. His mind is on that one idea every +minute. Consequence is, he's always ready to shoot. So as not to take any +chances, he makes it a habit to be sudden death with a six-gun." + +"That's it. Most of 'em are sure-thing killers. Jim's not like that. He's +game as they make 'em. But I'd give every cent I'm worth if he hadn't +gone out an' got Peg-Leg," + +"He never had any bringin' up, or at least he had the wrong kind." He +listened a moment with a little smile. From the kitchen, where Jim was +helping the young women wash the dishes, came a murmur of voices and +occasionally a laugh. "Funny how all good women are mothers in their +hearts. Polly's tryin' to save that boy from himself, an' I reckon maybe +Miss Lee is too. In a way they got no business to have him here at all. I +like him. That ain't the point. But he's got off wrong foot first. He's +declared himself out of their class." + +"And yore sister won't see it that way?" + +"Not a bit of it. She's goin' to fight for his soul, as you might say, +an' bring him back if she can do it. Polly's a mighty loyal little +friend, if I am her brother that tells it." + +"She's right," decided Prince. "It can't hurt her any. Nothin' that's +wrong can do her any harm, because she's so fine she sees only the good. +An' it's certainly goin' to do the kid good to know her." + +"If he'd git out of here he might have a chance yet. But he won't. An' +when he meets up with Champa or Dave Roush he's got to forget mighty +prompt everything that Polly has told him." + +"I heard Roush was on the mend. Is he up again?" + +"Yes. He had a narrow squeak, but pulled through. Roush rode into town +with Mysterious Pete to-night." + +"Then they've probably come to gun Jim. I'll stay right with him for a +day or two if I can." + +"What for?" demanded Roubideau bluntly. "You're not in this thing. You've +got no call to mix up in it. The boy saved Polly, an' I'll go this far. +If I'm on the spot when he meets Champa or Roush--an' I'll try to be +there--I won't let'em both come at him without takin' a hand. But he +has got to choose his own way in life. I can't stand between him an' the +consequences of his acts. He's got to play his own hand." + +"Did Dave Roush an' Mysterious Pete seem pretty friendly?" + +"Thicker than three in a bed." + +"Looks bad." Billie came to another phase of the situation. "How does it +happen that Snaith's outfit have let Jim stay here without gettin' after +him? Nothin' but a necktie party would suit 'em when we left in the +spring." + +"Times have changed," explained Roubideau. "This is quite a trail town +now. The big outfits are bringin' in a good deal of money. Snaith can't +run things with so high a hand as he did. Besides, there are a good many +of the trail punchers in town now. I reckon Wally Snaith has given orders +not to start anything." + +"Maybe Roush an' Champa have been given orders to take care of Jim." + +Jean doubted this and said so. "Snaith doesn't play his hand under the +table. But, of course, Sanders may have tipped 'em off to do it." + +Clanton joined them presently and the three men walked downtown. The gay +smile dropped from Jim's face the moment he stepped down from the porch. +Already his eyes had narrowed and over them had come a kind of film. They +searched every dark spot on the road. + +"Let's go to Tolleson's," he proposed abruptly. + +There was a moment of silence before Billie made a counter-proposition. +"No, let's go back to the hotel." + +"All right. You fellows go to the hotel. Meet you there later." + +The eyes of Prince and Roubideau met. Not another word was spoken. Both +of them knew that Clanton intended to show himself in public where any +one that wanted him might find him. They turned toward Tolleson's, but +took the precaution to enter by the back door. + +The sound of shuffling feet, of tinkling piano and whining fiddle, gave +notice in advance that the dancers were on the floor. Clanton took the +precaution to ease the guns in their holsters in order to make sure of a +swift draw. + +His forethought was unnecessary. Neither Roush nor Mysterious Pete was +among the dancers, the gamblers, or at the bar. The three friends passed +out of the front door and walked to the Proctor House. Clanton had done +all that he felt was required of him and was willing to drop the matter +for the night. + + + + +Chapter XX + +Exit Mysterious Pete + + +In the cold, gray dawn of the morning after, Mysterious Pete straddled +down the main street of Los Portales with a dark-brown taste in his +mouth. He was feeling ugly. For he had imbibed a large quantity of +liquor. He had gambled and lost. He had boasted of what he intended to do +to one James Clanton, now generally known as "Go-Get-'Em Jim," + +This last in particular was a mistake. Moreover, it was quite out of +accord with the usual custom of Mr. Champa. When he made up his mind to +increase by one the number of permanent residents upon Boot Hill he bided +his time, waited till the suspicions of his victim were lulled, and shot +down his man without warning. The one fixed rule of his life was never to +take an unnecessary chance. Now he was taking one. + +Every chain has its weakest link. Mr. Champa drunk was a rock upon which +Mr. Champa sober had more than once come to shipwreck. No doubt some +busybody, seeking to curry favor with him, had run to this Clanton with +the tale of how Mysterious Pete had sworn to kill him on sight. + +The bad man was sour on the world this morning. He prided himself on +being always a dead shot, but such a night as he had spent would not help +his chances. There could be no doubt that his nerves were jumpy. What he +needed was a few hours' sleep. + +He would have taken a back street if he had dared, but to do so would +have been a confession of doubt. The killer can afford to let nobody +guess that he is afraid. When such a suspicion becomes current he might +as well order his coffin. The men whom he holds in the subjection of fear +will all be taking a chance with him. + +So Mysterious Pete, bad man and murderer, coward at heart to the marrow, +strutted toward his rooming-house with a heart full of hate to everybody. +The pleasant morning sunshine was an offense to him. A care-free laugh on +the breeze made him grit his teeth irritably. Particularly he hated Dave +Roush. For Roush had led him into this cunningly by bribery and flattery. +He had fed the jealousy of Pete, who could not brook the thought of a +rival bad man in his own territory. He had hinted that perhaps Champa had +better steer clear of this youth, whose reputation as a killer had grown +so amazingly. Ever since Clanton had killed Warren the bad man had +intended to "get him." But he had meant to do it without taking any risk. +His idea was to pretend to be his friend, push a gun into his stomach, +and down him before he could move. Now by his folly he had to take a +fighting chance. Dave Roush, to save his own skin, had pushed him into +danger. All this was quite clear to him now, and he raged at the +knowledge. + +Champa, too, was at another disadvantage. He was not sure that he would +know Clanton when he saw him. He had set eyes on the young fellow once, +on that occasion when he had gone with Warren to demand an inspection of +the Flying V Y herd. But he had seen him only as one of a group of +cowpunchers and not as an individual enemy, whereas it was quite certain +that Go-Get-'Em Jim would recognize him. + +From out of a doorway stepped a young fellow with his hand on his hip. +Pete's six-gun flashed upward in a quarter curve even as the bullet +crashed on its way. The youth staggered against the wall and sank +together into a heap. Champa, every sense alert, fired again, then waited +warily to make sure this was not a ruse of his victim. + +Some one--a woman--darted from a building opposite, flew across the +street, and dropped beside the crumpled figure. Her white skirt covered +the body like a protecting flag. + +The dark eyes in the white face lifted toward Champa were full of horror, +"You murderer! You've killed little Bud Proctor!" cried the young woman. + +He took an uncertain step or two toward her. Mysterious Pete knew that if +this were true, his race was run. + +"Goddlemighty, Miss Snaith! I swear I thought it was Clanton. He was +drawing a gun on me." + +Lee drew the boy to her bosom so that her body was between the killer and +his victim. A swift, up-blazing, maternal fury seemed to leap from her +face. + +"Don't come any nearer! Don't you dare!" she cried. + +The man's covert glance swept round. Already men were peering out of +doors and windows to see what the shooting was about. Soon the street +would be full of them, all full of deadly fury at him. He backed away, +snarling, cut across a vacant lot, and ran to his room. The bolt in his +door was no sooner closed than he knew it could not protect him. There +comes a time in the career of a large percentage of bad men when some +other hard citizen on behalf of the public puts a period to it. He is +wiped out, not for what he has done only, but for fear also of what he +may do. The only safety for him now was to get out of the country as fast +as a house could carry him. Instinctively Mysterious Pete recognized this +now and cursed his folly for not going straight to a corral. + +If he hurried he might still make his get-away, He reloaded his revolver, +opened the door of his room, and listened. Cautiously he stole downstairs +and out the back door of the building. A little girl was playing at +keeping house in a corner of the yard. Scarcely more than a baby herself, +she was vigorously spanking a doll. + +"Be dood. You better had be dood," she admonished. + +A crafty idea came into the cunning brain of the outlaw. She would serve +as a protection against the bullets of his enemies. He caught her up and +carried her, kicking and screaming, while he ran to the Elephant Corral. + +"Saddle me a horse. Jump!" ordered the fugitive, his revolver out. + +The trembling wrangler obeyed. He did not know the cause of Mysterious +Pete's urgency fact was enough. He knew that this man with the bad record +was flying in fear of his life. Tiny sweat beads stood out on his +forehead. The fellow was in a blue funk and would shoot at the least +pretext. + +The saddle that the wrangler flung on the horse he had roped was a Texas +one with double cinches. In desperate haste to be gone, Champa released +the child a moment to tighten one of the bands. + +A voice called to her. "Run, Kittie." + +To the casual eye the child was all knobby legs and hair ribbons. She +scudded for the stable, sobbing as she ran. + +At sound of that voice Mysterious Pete leaped to the saddle and whirled +his horse. He was too late. The man who had called to Kittie slammed shut +the gate of the corral and laughed tauntingly. + +"Better 'light, Mr. Champa. That caballo you're on happens to be mine." + +Pete needed no introduction. This slight, devil-may-care young fellow at +the gate was Clanton. He was here to fight. The only road of escape was +over his body. + +The gunman slid from the saddle. His instinct for safety still served +him, for he came to the ground with the horse as a shield between him and +his foe. The nine-inch barrel of his revolver rested on the back of the +bronco as he blazed away. A chip flew from the cross-bar of the corral +gate. + +Clanton took no chances. The first shot from his forty-four dropped the +cowpony. Pete backed away, firing as he moved. He flung bullet after +bullet at the figure behind the gate. In his panic he began to think that +his enemy bore a charmed life. Three times his lead struck the woodwork +of the gate. + +The retreating man whirled and dropped, his weapon falling to the dust. +Clanton fired once more to make sure that his work was done, then moved +slowly forward, his eyes focused on the body. A thin wisp of smoke rose +from the revolver lying close to the still hand. + +Mysterious Pete had died with his boots on after the manner of his kind. + + + + +Chapter XXI + +Jim Receives and Declines an Offer + + +From the moment that Clanton walked out of the corral and left the dead +gunman lying in the dust his reputation was established. Up till that +time he had been on probation. Now he was a full-fledged killer. Nobody +any longer spoke of him by his last name, except those friends who still +hoped he might escape his destiny. "Go-Get-'em Jim" was his title at +large. Those on more familiar terms called him "Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em." + +It was unfortunate for Clanton that the killing of Champa lifted him into +instant popularity. Mysterious Pete had been too free with his gun. The +community had been afraid of him. The irresponsible way in which he had +wounded little Bud Proctor, whose life had been saved only by the courage +of Lee Snaith, was the climax of a series of outrages committed by the +man. + +That Jim had incidentally saved Kittie McRobert from the outlaw was a +piece of clean luck. Snaith came to him at once and buried the hatchet. +In the war just starting, the cattleman needed men of nerve to lead his +forces. He offered a place to Clanton, who jumped at the chance to get on +the pay-roll of Lee's father. + +"Bring yore friend Billie Prince to the store," suggested Snaith. "He's +not workin' for Webb now. I can make a place for him, too." + +Billie came, listened to the proposition of the grim old-timer, and +declined quietly. + +"Goin' to stick by Webb, are you?" demanded the chief of the opposite +faction. + +"Anything wrong with that? I've drawn a pay-check from him for three +seasons." + +"Oh, if it's a matter of sentiment." + +As a matter of fact, Billie did not intend to go on the trail any more, +though Webb had offered him a place as foreman of one of his herds. He +had discovered in himself unsuspected business capacity and believed he +could do better on his own. Moreover, he was resolved not to let himself +become involved in the lawless warfare that was engulfing the territory. + +It must be remembered that Washington County was at this time as large as +the average Atlantic Coast State. It had become a sink for the riff-raff +driven out of Texas by the Rangers, for all that wild and adventurous +element which flocks to a new country before the law has established +itself. The coming of the big cattle herds had brought money into the +country, and in its wake followed the gambler and the outlaw. Gold and +human life were the cheapest commodities at Los Portales. The man who +wore a gun on his hip had to be one hundred per cent efficient to +survive. + +Lawlessness was emphasized by the peculiar conditions of the country. The +intense rivalry to secure Government contracts for hay, wood, and +especially cattle, stimulated unwholesome competition. The temptation to +"rustle" stock, to hold up outfits carrying pay to the soldiers, to live +well merely as a gunman for one of the big interests on the river, made +the honest business of every-day life a humdrum affair. + +None the less, the real heroes among the pioneers were the quiet citizens +who went about their business and refused to embroil themselves in the +feuds that ran rife. The men who made the West were the mule-skinners, +the storekeepers, the farmers who came out in white-topped movers' +wagons. For a time these were submerged by the more sensational gunman, +but in the end they pushed to the top and wiped the "bad man" from the +earth. It was this prosaic class that Billie Prince had resolved to join. + +To that resolve he stuck through all the blood-stained years of the +notorious Washington County War. He went about his private affairs with +quiet energy that brought success. He took hay and grain contracts, +bought a freighting outfit, acquired a small but steadily increasing +bunch of cattle. Gradually he bulked larger in the public eye, became an +anchor of safety to whom the people turned after the war had worn itself +out and scattered bands of banditti infested the chaparral to prey upon +the settlers. + +This lean, brown-faced man walked the way of the strong. Men recognized +the dynamic force of his close-gripped jaw, the power of his quick, +steady eye, the patience of his courage. The eyes of women followed him +down the street, for there was some arresting quality in the firm, crisp +tread that carried the lithe, smooth-muscled body. With the passage of +years he had grown to a full measure of mental manhood. It was inevitable +that when Washington County set itself to the task of combing the outlaws +from the mesquite it should delegate the job to Billie Prince. + +The evening after his election as sheriff, Billie called at the home of +Pauline Roubideau, who was keeping house for her brother. Jack Goodheart +was leaving just as Prince stepped upon the porch. It had been two years +now since Jack had ceased to gravitate in the direction of Lee Snaith. +His eyes and his footsteps for many months had turned often toward Polly. + +The gaze of the sheriff-elect followed the lank figure of the retreating +man. + +"I've a notion to ask that man to give up a good business to wear a +deputy's star for me," he told Pauline. + +"Oh, I wouldn't," she said quickly. + +"Why not? He'd be a good man for the job. I want some one game--some one +who will go through when he starts." + +His questioning eyes rested on hers. She felt a difficulty in justifying +her protest. + +"I don't know--I just thought--" + +"I'm waiting," said Prince with a smile. + +"He wouldn't take it, would he?" she fenced. + +"If it was put up to him right I think he would. Of course, it would be a +sacrifice for him to make, but good citizens have to do that these days." + +"He's had so much hard luck and been so long getting a start I don't +think you ought to ask him." The color spilled over her cheeks like wine +shaken from a glass upon a white cloth. Polly was always ardent on behalf +of a friend. + +"I can't help that. There's another man I have in mind, but if I don't +get him it will be up to Jack." + +"Will it be dangerous?" + +"No more than smoking a cigarette above an open keg of powder. But you +don't suppose that would keep him from accepting the job, do you?" + +"No," she admitted. "He would take it if he thought he ought. But I hope +you get the other man." + +Billie dismissed the subject and drew up a chair beside the hammock in +which she was leaning back. + +"This is my birthday, Polly," he told her. "I'm twenty-four years old." + +"Good gracious! What a Methuselah!" + +"I want a present, so I've come to ask for it." + +With a sidelong tilt of her chin she flashed a look of quick eyes at him. +Her voice did not betray the pulse, of excitement that was beginning to +beat in her blood. + +"You've just been elected sheriff. Isn't that enough?" she evaded. + +"That's a fine present to hand a man," he answered grimly. "An' I didn't +notice you bubble with enthusiasm when I spoke of givin' half the glory +to Goodheart." + +"But I haven't a thing you'd care for. If I'd only known in time I'd have +sent to Vegas and got you something nice." + +"You don't have to send to Vegas for it, Polly. The present I want is +right here," he said simply. + +She reached out a little hand impulsively. "Billie, I believe you 're the +best man I know--the very best." + +"I hate to hear that. You're tryin' to let me down easy." + +"I'm an ungrateful little idiot. Any other girl in town would jump at the +chance to say, 'Thank you, kind sir.'" + +"But you can't," he said gently. + +"No, I can't." + +He was not sure whether there was a flash of tears in her brown eyes, but +he knew by that little trick of biting the lower lip that they were not +far away. She was a tender-hearted little comrade, and it always hurt her +to hurt others. + +Billie drew a long breath. "That's settled, too, then. I asked you once +before if there was some one else. I ask you again, but don't tell me if +you'd rather not." + +"Yes." + +"You mean there is." + +Again the scarlet splashed into her cheeks. She nodded her head three or +four times quickly in assent. + +"Not Jim Clanton?" he said, alarmed. + +A faint, tender smile flashed on her lips. "I don't think I'll tell you +who he is, Billie." + +He hesitated. "That's all right, Polly. I don't want to pry into yore +secret. But--don't do anything foolish. Don't marry a man with the notion +of reformin' him or because he seems to you romantic. You have lots of +sense. You'll use it, won't you?" he pleaded. + +"I'll try to use it, Billie," she promised. Then, the soft eyes shining +and the color still high in her cheeks, she added impulsively: "I don't +know anybody that needs some one to love him more than that poor boy +does." + +"Mebbeso. But don't you be that some one, Polly." He hesitated, divided +between loyalty to his friend and his desire for this girl's good. His +brown, unscarred hand caught hers in a firm grip. "Don't you do it, +little girl. Don't you. The woman that marries Jim Clanton is doomed to +be miserable. There's no escape for her. She's got to live with her heart +in her throat till the day they bring his dead body back to her." + +She leaned toward him, and now there was no longer any doubt that her +eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Perhaps a woman doesn't marry for +happiness alone, Billie. That may come to her, or it may not. But she has +to fulfill her destiny. I don't know how to say what I mean, but she must +go on and live her life and forget herself." + +Prince rejected this creed flatly. "No! No! The best way to fulfill yore +life is to be happy. That's what you've always done, an' that's why +you've made other people happy. Because you go around singin' an' +dancin', we all want to tune up with you. When I was out bossin' a +freight outfit I used to think of you at night under the stars as a +little Joybird. Now you've got it in that curly head of yours that you 'd +ought to be some kind of a missionary martyr for the sake of a man's +soul. That's all wrong." + +"Is it?" she asked him with a crooked, little, wistful smile. "How about +you? Do you want to be sheriff? Is it going to make you so awfully happy +to spend your time running down outlaws for the good of the country? +Aren't you doing it because you've been called to it and not because you +like it?" + +"That's different," he protested. "When the community needs him a man's +got to come through or be a yellow hound. But you've got no right to +toss away yore life plumb foolishly just because you've got a tender +heart." Billie stopped again, then threw away any scruples he might have +on the score of friendship. "Jim is goin' to be what he is to the end of +the chapter. You can't change him. Nobody can. In this Washington County +War he's been a terror to the other side. You know that. For such a girl +as you he's outside the pale." + +"I heard Jean say once that Jim had never killed a man that didn't need +killing," she protested. + +"That may be true, too. But it wasn't up to him to do it. It isn't only +killin' either. He's on the wrong track." + +The young man could say no more. He could not tell her that Clanton was +suspected of rustling and that his name had been mentioned in connection +with robbery of the mail. These charges were not proved. Prince himself +still loyally denied their truth, though evidence was beginning to pile +up against the young gunman. He had warned Clanton, and Jim had clapped +him on the shoulder, laughed, and invited him to take a drink with him. +This was not quite the way in which Billie felt an innocent man would +receive news that he was being furtively accused of crime. + +"Yes, he's going wrong," agreed Pauline. "But we can't desert him, can +we? You're his best friend. You know how brave he is, how generous, how +at the bottom of his heart he loves people that are fine and true. If we +stand by him we'll save him yet." + +The young man's common sense told him that Clanton's future lay with +himself and his attitude toward his environment, but he loved the spirit +of this girl's gift of faith in her friends. It was so wholly like her to +reject the external evidence and accept her own conviction of his innate +goodness. + +"I hope yore faith will work a miracle." + +"I hate the things he does more than you do, Billie. It is horrible to me +that he can take human life. I don't justify him at all, even though +usually he is on the right side. But in spite of everything he has done +Jim is only a wild boy. And he's so splendid some ways. Any day he would +give his life for you or for me or for Lee Snaith. You feel that about +him, don't you?" + +"Yes." + +He was not satisfied to let the subject drop, but for the present it had +to be postponed. For a young man and a young woman were turning in at the +gate. They were a handsome pair physically. Each of them moved with the +lithe grace of a young puma. Pauline rose to meet them. + +"I'm glad you came, Lee. Didn't know you were in town, Jim," + +Clanton smiled. "I rode up from the Hondo to congratulate our new +sheriff. Don't you let any of them outlaws escape, Billie." + +Prince looked directly into his audacious eyes as he shook hands with +him. + +"Not if I can help it, Jim. I want you to be my chief deputy in cleanin' +up the county. If you'll help me we'll make such a gather of bad men that +it won't be safe for a crook to show his head here." + +Pauline clapped her hands. "What a splendiferous idea! It's a great +chance for you, Jim. You and Billie can do it too. I know you can." + +The other young woman had recognized Prince only by a casual nod. It was +her custom to ignore him as much as possible. Now her dark, velvety eyes +jumped to meet his, then passed to Clanton. She recognized the +significance of the moment. It was Jim's last opportunity to line up on +the side of law and order. Lee, with Billie and Pauline, had stood his +loyal friend against a growing public opinion. Would he justify their +faith in him? + +After a long silence Jim spoke. "No, I reckon not, Billie. I've got +interests that will take all my time. Much obliged, old scout. I'd like +to ride in couples with you like we used to do. I sure would, but I +can't." + +"That's all nonsense. It's no excuse at all," broke out Lee in her direct +fashion. "Mr. Prince has more important affairs than you a good deal. +He is dropping his to serve the people. You'll have to give a better +reason than that to convince me." + +Billie knew and Lee suspected what lay back of the spoken word. The duty +of the sheriff would be to hunt down the men with whom Clanton had +lately been consorting. He felt that he could not desert his friends to +line up against them. Some of these were a bad lot, the riff-raff of a +wild country, but this would not justify him in his own mind for using +his knowledge of their habits to run them to earth. + +"No, I can't talk business with you, Billie," the young fellow said +decisively. + +"Why can't you?" demanded Lee. + +Jim Clanton smiled. "You're certainly a right persistent young lady, but +by advice of counsel I decline to answer." + + + + +Chapter XXII + +The Rustlers' Camp + + +From Live-Oaks a breakneck trail runs up the side of the mountain, drops +down into the valley beyond, and twists among the hills and through +cañons to the Ruidosa. In the darkness a man followed this precarious +path. His horse climbed it like a cat, without the least uncertainty or +doubt. Both mount and rider had covered this ground often during the +Washington County War. Joe Yankie expected to continue to use it as long +as he found a profit in other men's cattle. + +When he had reached the summit he swung to the right, dipped abruptly +into a narrow gulch, skirted a clump of junipers, and looked down upon +a little basin hidden snugly in the gorge. A wisp of pungent smoke rose +to his nostrils. The pony began cautiously the sharp descent. The +escarpment was of disintegrated granite which rang beneath the hoofs of +the animal. A pebble rolled to the edge of the bluff and dropped into the +black pit below. + +From the gulf a challenging voice rose. "Hello, up there!" + +"It's me--Joe," answered the rider. + +"Time you were gettin' here," growled the other, as yet only a voice in +the darkness. + +Slowly the horse slid forward to a ribbon of trail that led less +precipitously to the camp. + +"'Lo, Joe. Fall off an' rest," a one-armed man invited. By the light of +the camp-fire he was a hard-faced, wall-eyed citizen with a jaw like a +steel trap. + +Yankie dismounted and straddled to the fire. "How-how; I'm heap hungry, +boys. Haven't et since mornin'." + +"We're 'most out of grub. Got nothin' but jerked beef an' hard-tack. How +are things a-stackin', Joe?" asked a heavy-set, bow-legged man with +a cold, fishy eye. + +"Looks good, Dave. I'll lead the cattle to you. It'll be up to you an' +Albeen an' Dumont to make a get-away with 'em." + +"Don't you worry none about that. Once I get these beeves on the trail +there can't no shorthorn cattleman take 'em away from me." + +"Oh, you're doin' this thing, are you?" drawled Albeen offensively. +"There's been a heap of big I talk around here lately. First off, I want +to tell you that when you call Homer Webb a shorthorn cattleman you've +got another guess comin'. He's a sure enough old-timer. Webb knocked the +bark off'n this country when it was green, an' you got to rise up early +an' travel fast if you want to slip over anything on him," + +"That's whatever," agreed Yankie. "I don't love the old man a whole lot. +I've stood about all from him I'm intendin' to. One of these days it's +goin' to be him or me. But the old man's there every jump of the road. He +knew New Mexico when Los Portales was a whistlin' post in the desert. +He's fought through this war an' come through richer than when he +started. If I was lookin' for an easy mark I'd sure pass up Webb." + +"He's got you lads buffaloed," jeered Roush. "Webb looks like anybody +else to me. I don't care if he's worth a million. If he fools with me +he'll find I fog him quick." + +"I've known fellows before that got all filled up with talk an' had to +steam off about every so often," commented Albeen to the world at large. + +"Meanin' me?" + +Albeen carefully raked a live coal from the fire and pressed it down into +the bowl of his pipe. The eyes in his leathery, brown face had grown hard +as jade. For some time he and Dave Roush had been ready for an explosion. +It could not come any too soon to suit the one-armed man. + +"Meanin' you if you want to take it that way." Albeen looked straight at +him with an unwinking gaze. "You're not the only man on the reservation +that wears his gun low, Roush. Maybe you're a wolf for fair. I've sure +heard you claim it right often. You're a two-gun man. I pack only one, +seem' as I'm shy a wing. But don't git the notion you can ride me. I +won't stand for it a minute." + +"Sho! Dave didn't mean anything like that. Did you, Dave?" interposed +Dumont hastily. "You was just kind o' jokin', wasn't you?" + +"Well, I'm servin' notice right now that when any one drops around any +jokes about me bein' buffaloed, he's foolin' with dynamite. No man +alive can run a sandy on me an' git away with it." + +The chill eyes of Albeen, narrowed to shining slits, focused on Roush +menacingly. All present understood that he was offering Devil Dave a +choice. He could draw steel, or he could side-step the issue. + +The campers had been playing poker with white navy beans for chips. +Roush, undecided, gathered up in his fingers the little pile of them in +front of him and let them sift down again to the blanket on the edge of +which he sat. Some day he and Albeen would have to settle this quarrel +once for all. But not to-night. Dave wanted the breaks with him when that +hour came. He intended to make a sure thing of it. Albeen was one of +those fire-eaters who would play into his hand by his reckless courage. +Better have patience and watch for his chance against the one-armed +gunman. + +"I ain't aimin' to ride you any, Albeen," he said sulkily. + +"Lay off'n me, then," advised the other curtly. + +Roush grumbled something inaudible. It might have been a promise. It +might have been a protest. Yankie jumped into the breach and began +to talk. + +"I couldn't git away from the old man yesterday. I think he's suspicious +about me. Anyhow, he acts like he is. I came in to Live-Oaks to-night +without notifyin' him an' I got to be back in camp before mornin'. +Here's my plan. I've got a new rider out from Kansas for his health. He's +gun-shy. I'll leave him in charge of this bunch of stock overnight on. +the berrendo. He'll run like a scared deer at the first shot. Hustle the +beeves over the pass an' keep 'em movin' till you come to Lost Cache." + +Crouched over the blanket, they discussed details and settled them. +Yankie rose to leave and Roush followed him to his horse. + +"Don't git a notion I'm scared of Albeen, Joe," he explained. "No +one-armed, hammered-down little runt can bluff me for a second. When I'm +good an' ready I'll settle with him, but I'm not goin' to wreck this +business we're on by any personal difficulty." + +"That's right, Dave," agreed the foreman of the Flying V Y. "We all +understand how you feel." + +Yankie, busy fastening a cinch, had his forehead pressed against the +saddle and could afford a grin. He knew that the courage of a killer is +largely dependent on his physical well-being. If he is cold or hungry or +exhausted, his nerve is at low ebb; if life is running strong in his +arteries his grit is above par. For years Roush had been drinking to +excess. He had reached the point where he dared not face in the open a +man like Albeen with nerves of unflawed steel. The declension of a +gunman, if once it begins, is rapid and sure. One of those days, unless +Roush were killed first, some mild-looking citizen would take his gun +from him and kick him out of a bar-room. + +The foreman traveled fast, but the first streaks of morning were already +lighting the sky when he reached Rabbit Ear Creek, upon which was the +Flying V Y Ranch No. 3 of which he was majordomo. He unsaddled, threw the +bronco into the corral, and walked to the foreman's bunkhouse. Without +undressing, he flung himself upon the bed and fell asleep at one. He +awoke to see a long slant of sunshine across the bare planks of the +floor. + +Some one was hammering on the door. Webb opened it and put in his head +just as the Segundo jumped to his feet. + +"Makin' up some lost sleep, Joe?" inquired the owner of the ranch +amiably. + +"I been out nights a good deal tryin' to check the rustlers," answered +Yankie sullenly. He had been caught asleep in his clothes and it annoyed +him. Would the old man guess that he had been in the saddle all night? + +"Glad to hear you're gettin' busy on that job. They've got to be stopped. +If you can't do it I'll have to try to find a man that can, Joe." + +"Mebbe you think it's an easy job, Webb," retorted the other, a chip on +his shoulder. "If you do it costs nothin' Mex to fire me an' try some +other guy." + +"I don't say you're to blame, Joe. Perhaps you're just unlucky. But the +fact stands that I'm losin' more cattle on this range than at any one of +my other three ranches or all of 'em put together." + +"We're nearer the hills than they are," the foreman replied sulkily. + +"I don't want excuses, but results, Joe. However, I came to talk about +that gather of beeves for Major Strong." + +Webb talked business in his direct fashion for a few minutes, then +strolled away. The majordomo watched him walk down to the corral. He +could not swear to it, but he was none the less sure that the +Missourian's keen eye was fixed upon a sweat-stained horse that had been +traveling the hills all night. + + + + +Chapter XXIII + +Murder from the Chaparral + + +Webb was just leaving for one of his ranches lower down the river when a +horseman galloped up. The alkali dust was caked on his unshaven face and +the weary bronco was dripping with sweat. + +The owner of the Flying V Y, giving some last instructions to the +foreman, turned to listen to the sputtering rider. + +"They--they done run off that bunch of beeves on the berrendo," he +explained, trembling with excitement. + +"Who?" + +"I don't know. A bunch of rustlers. About a dozen of 'em. They tried to +kill me." + +Webb turned to Yankie. "You didn't leave this man alone overnight with +that bunch of beeves for Major Strong?" + +"Sure I did. Why not?" demanded the foreman boldly. + +"We'll not argue that," said the boss curtly, "Go hunt you another job. +You'll draw yore last pay-check from the Flying V Y to-day." + +"If you're loaded up with a notion that some one else could do better--" + +"It's not yore ability I object to, Yankie" cut in the ranchman. + +"Say, what are you insinuatin'?" snarled the segundo. + +"Not a thing, Yankie. I'm tellin' you to yore face that I think you're a +crook. One of these days I'm goin' to land you behind the bars at Santa +Fé. No, don't make another pass like that, Joe. I'll sure beat you to +it." + +Wrayburn had ridden up and now asked the foreman a question about some +calves. + +"Don't ask me. Ask yore boss," growled Yankie, his face dark with fury. + +"Don't ask me either," said Webb. "You're foreman of this ranch, Dad." + +"Since when?" asked the old Confederate. + +"Since right this minute. I've fired Yankie." + +Dad chewed his cud of tobacco without comment. He knew that Webb would +tell him all he needed to know. + +"Says I'm a waddy! Says I'm a crook!" burst out the deposed foreman. +"Wish you joy of yore job, Wrayburn. You'll have one heluva time." + +"You will if Yankie can bring it about," amended the cattleman. He spoke +coldly and contemptuously just as if the man were not present. "I've +made up my mind, Dad, that he's in cahoots with the rustlers." + +"Prove it! Prove it!" demanded the accused man, furious with anger at +Webb's manner. + +The ranch-owner went on talking to Wrayburn in an even voice. "I've +suspected it for some time. Now I'm convinced. Yesterday mornin' I found +him asleep in bed with his clothes on. His horse looked like it had been +travelin' all night. I made inquiries. He went to Live-Oaks an' was seen +to take the trail to the Ruidosa. Why?" + +"You've been spyin' on me," charged Yankie. He was under a savage desire +to draw his gun but he could not shake off in a moment the habit of +subordination bred by years of service with this man. + +"To let his fellow thieves know that he meant to leave a bunch of beef +steers on the berrendo practically unguarded. That's why. I'd bet a stack +of blues on it. You'll have to watch this fellow, Dad." + +The new foreman took his cue from the boss. None the less, he meant just +what he said. "You better believe I'll watch him. I've had misgivin's +about him for a right smart time." + +"He'll probably ride straight to his gang of rustlers. Well, he can't do +us half as much harm there as here." + +"I'll git you both. Watch my smoke. Watch it." With a curse the rustler +swung his horse round and gave it the spur. Poison hate churned in his +heart. At the bend of the road he turned and shook a fist at them both. + +"There goes one good horse an' saddle belongin' to me," said Webb, +smiling ruefully. "But if I never get them back it's cheap at the price. +I'm rid of one scoundrel." + +"I wonder if you are, Homer," mused his friend. "Maybe you'd better have +let him down easy. Joe Yankie is as revengeful as an Injun." + +"Let him down easy!" exploded the cattleman. "When he's just pulled off a +raw deal by which I lose a bunch of forty fat three-year-olds. I ought +to have gunned him in his tracks." + +"If you had proof, but you haven't. It's a right doubtful policy for a +man to stir up a rattler till it's crazy, then to turn it loose in his +bedroom." + +The Missourian turned to the business of the hour. "We'll get a posse out +after the rustlers right away. Dad. I'll see the boys an' you hustle +up some rifles and ammunition." + +Half an hour later they saw the dust of the cowpunchers taking the trail +for the berrendo. + +"I'll ride down an' get Billie Prince started after 'em. I can go with +his posse as a deputy," suggested the ranchman. + +To save Webb's time, Dad rode a few miles with him while the cattleman +outlined to him the policy he wanted pursued. + +The sun was high in the heavens when they met, not far from Ten Sleep, a +rider. The cattleman looked at him grimly. In the Washington County +War just ended, this young fellow had been the leading gunman of the +Snaith-McRobert faction. If the current rumors were true he was now +making an easy living in the chaparral. + +The rider drew up, nodded a greeting to Wrayburn, and grinned with cool +nonchalance at Webb. He knew from report in what esteem he was held +by the owner of the Flying V Y brand. + +"Yankie up at the ranch?" he asked. + +"What do you want with him?" demanded Webb brusquely. + +"I got a message for him." + +"Who from?" + +Clanton was conscious of some irritation against this sharp catechism. In +point of fact Billie Prince had asked him to notify Yankie that he had +heard of the rustling on the berrendo and was taking the trail at once. +But Go-Get-'Em Jim was the last man in the world to be driven by +compulsion. He had been ready to tell Webb the message Billie had given +him for Yankie, but he was not ready to tell it until the Missourian +moderated his tone. + +"Mebbe that's my business--an' his, Mr. Webb," he said. + +"An' mine too--if you've come to tell him how slick you pulled that trick +on the berrendo." + +Jim stiffened at once. "To Halifax with you an' yore cattle, Webb. Do you +claim I rustled that bunch of beeves last night?" + +"I see you know all about it?" retorted Webb with heavy sarcasm. + +"Mebbeso. I'm not askin' yore permission to live--not just yet." + +Webb flushed dark with anger. "You've got a nerve, young fellow, to go up +to my ranch after last night's business. Unless you want to have yore +pelt hung up to dry, keep away from any of the Flying V Y ranges. As for +Yankie, if you go back to yore hole you'll likely find him. I kicked the +hound out two hours ago." + +"Like you did me three years ago," suggested Clanton, looking straight at +the grizzled cowman. "Webb, you're the high mogul here since you fixed +it up with the Government to send its cavalry to back yore play against +our faction. You act like we've got to knock our heads in the dust three +times when we meet up with you. Don't you think it. Don't you think it +for a minute. If I've rustled yore cattle, prove it. Until then padlock +yore tongue, or you an' me'll mix it." + +"You're threatenin' me, eh?" + +"If that's what you want to call it." + +"You're a killer, I'm told," flashed back Webb hotly. "Now listen to me. +You an' yore kind belong in the penitentiary, an' that's where the honest +folks of Washington County are goin' to send you soon. Give me half a +chance an' I'll offer a reward of ten thousand dollars for you alive or +dead. That's the way to get rid of gunmen." + +"Is it?" Clanton laughed mockingly. "You advise the fellow that tries to +collect that reward to get his life insured heavy for his widow." + +If this was a boast, it was also a warning. Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em may not +have been the best target shot on the border, but give him a man behind a +spitting revolver as his mark and he could throw bullets with swifter, +deadlier accuracy than any old-timer of them all. He did not take the +time to aim; it was enough for him to look at his opponent as he fired. + +The young fellow swung his horse expertly and cantered into the mesquite. + +"I'll give you two months before you're wiped off the map," the cattleman +called after him angrily. + +At the edge of a heavy growth of brush Clanton pulled up, flashed a +six-shooter, and dropped two bullets in the dust at the feet of the +horses in the road. Then, with a wave of his hand, he laughed derisively +and plunged into the chaparral. + +Webb, stung to irritable action, fired into the cholla and the arrowweed +thickets. Shot after shot he sent at the man who had disappeared in the +maze. + +"Let him go. Homer. You're well quit of him," urged Wrayburn. + +The words were still on his lips when out of the dense tangle of +vegetation rang a shot. The owner of the Flying VY clutched at his +saddle-horn. A spasmodic shudder shook the heavy body and it began to +sink. + +Wrayburn ran to help. He was in time to catch his friend as he fell, but +before he could lower the inert weight to the ground the life of Homer +Webb had flickered out. + + + + +Chapter XXIV + +Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em Leaves a Note + + +Prince and his posse were camped in a little park near the headquarters +of Saco de Oro Creek when a trapper brought word to Billie of the death +of Webb. The heart of the young sheriff sank at the news. It was not only +that he had always liked and admired the bluff cattleman. What shocked +him more was that Jim Clanton had killed him. Webb was one of the most +popular ranchmen on the river. There would be an instant, widespread +demand for the arrest and conviction of his slayer. Billie had taken an +oath to uphold the law. His clear duty was to go out and capture Jim +alive or dead. + +Not for a moment did Billie doubt what he would do. He had pledged +himself to blot out the "bad man," and he would go through no matter what +the cost to his personal feelings. + +A slow anger at Clanton burned in him. Why had he done this wanton and +lawless thing? The boy he had known three years ago would never have shot +down from cover a man like Webb. That he could have done it now marked +the progress of the deterioration of his moral fiber. What right had he +to ask those who remained loyal to him to sacrifice so often their sense +of right in his favor? + +The old intimacy between Billie and Jim had long since waned. They were +traveling different roads these days. But though they were no longer +chums their friendship endured. When they met, a warm affection lit the +eyes of both. It had survived the tug of diverse interests, the +intervention of long separations, the conflict born of the love of women. +Would it stand without breaking this new test of its strength? + +With a little nod to Goodheart the sheriff retired from the camp-fire. +His deputy joined him presently on a hillside overlooking the creek. + +"I'm goin' back to Live-Oaks to-night, Jack," announced Prince. "You'd +better stay here a few days an' hunt through these gulches. Since that +rain yesterday there's not one chance in fifty of runnin' down the +rustlers, but you might happen to stumble on the place where they've got +the cattle cached." + +"You're goin' down about this Webb murder?" + +"Yes. I'm goin' to work out some plans. It will take some strategy to +land Clanton. He's lived out in the hills for years and he knows every +foot of cover in the country." + +Goodheart assented. To go blindly out into the mesquite after the young +outlaw would have been as futile as to reach a hand toward the stars with +the hope of plucking a gold-piece from the air. + +"Watch the men he trains with. Keep an eye on the Elephant Corral an' +check up on him when he rides in to Los Portales. Spot the tendejon at +Point o' Rocks where he has a hang-out. Unless he has left the country +he'll show up one of these days." + +"That's what I think, Jack, an' I'm confident he hasn't gone. He has a +reason for stayin' here." + +Goodheart could have put a name to the reason. It was a fair enough +reason to have held either him or the sheriff under the same +circumstances. + +"How about a reward? He trains with a crowd I'd hate to trust farther +than I could throw a bull by the tail. Some of 'em would sell their own +mothers for gold." + +"I'll get in touch with Webb's family an' see if they won't offer a big +reward for information leading to the arrest of the murderer." + +Within the week every crossroads store in the county had tacked to it a +placard offering a reward of five thousand dollars for the man who had +killed Homer Webb. + +No applications for it came in at first. + +"Wait," said Goodheart, smiling. "More than one yellow dog has licked its +jaws hungrily before that poster. Some dark night the yellowest one will +sneak in here to see you." + +On the main street of Los Portales one evening Billie met Pauline +Roubideau. She came at him with a direct frontal attack. + +"I've had a letter from Jim Clanton." + +The sheriff did not ask her where it was post-marked. He did not want any +information from Polly as to the whereabouts of her friend. + +"You're one ahead of me then. I haven't," answered Prince. + +"He says he didn't do it." + +"Do what?" + +"Shoot Mr. Webb. And I know he didn't if he says he didn't." + +The grave eyes of the young man met hers. "But Dad Wrayburn was there. He +saw the whole affair." + +Pauline brushed this aside with superb faith. "I don't care. Jim never +lied to me in his life. I know he didn't do it--and it makes me so glad." + +The young man envied her the faith that could reject evidence as though +it did not exist. The Jim Clanton she had once known would not have lied +to her. Therefore the Jim Clanton she knew now was worthy of perfect +trust. If there was any flaw in that logic the sweet and gallant heart of +the girl did not find it. + +But Billie had talked with Dad Wrayburn. He had ridden out and gone over +the ground with a fine-tooth comb. Webb had been killed by a bullet +from a forty-four. Of his own knowledge Prince knew that Clanton was +carrying a weapon of this caliber only three hours before the killing. +There was no escape from the conviction of the guilt of his friend. + +The sheriff walked back to the hotel where he was staying. On the way his +mind was full of the young woman he had just left. He had never liked +her better, never admired her more. But, somehow--and for the first time +he realized it--there was no longer any sting in the thought of her. He +did not have to fight against any unworthy jealousy because of her +interest in Clanton. Of late he had been very busy. It struck him now +that his mind had been much less preoccupied with the thought of her than +it used to be. He supposed there was such a thing as falling out of love. +Perhaps he was in process of doing that now. + +Bud Proctor, a tall young stripling, met Prince on the porch of the +hotel. + +"Buck Sanders was here to see you, sheriff," the boy said. + +Since the days when he had been segundo of the Snaith-McRobert outfit +Sanders had declined in the world. Like many of his kind he had taken to +drink, become bitten with the desire to get rich without working, and +operated inconspicuously in the chaparral with a branding iron. Much +water had poured down the bed of the Pecos in the past three years. The +disagreement between him and Clanton had long since been patched up and +they had lately been together a great deal. + +Prince went up to his room, threw off his coat, and began to prepare some +papers he had to send to the Governor. He was interrupted by a knock +at the door. + +Sanders opened at the sheriff's invitation, shoved in his head, looked +around the room warily, and sidled in furtively. He closed the door. + +"Mind if I lock it?" he asked. + +The sheriff nodded. His eyes fixed themselves intently on the man. "Go as +far as you like." + +The visitor hung his hat over the keyhole and moved forward to the table. +His close-set eyes gripped those of the sheriff. + +"What about this reward stuff?" he asked harshly. + +An instant resentment surged up in Billie's heart. He knew now why this +fellow had come to see him secretly. It was his duty to get all the +information he could about Clanton. He had to deal with this man who +wanted to sell his comrade, but he did not relish the business. + +"You can read, can't you, Sanders?" he asked ungraciously. + +"Where's the money?" snarled his guest. + +"It's in the bank." + +"Sure?" + +From his pocket-book Billie took a bank deposit slip. He put it on the +table where the other man could look it over. + +"Would a man have to wait for the reward until Clanton was convicted?" +the traitor asked roughly. + +"A thousand would be paid as soon as the arrest was made, the rest when +he was convicted," said Prince coldly. + +"Will you put that in writin', Mr. Sheriff?" + +The chill eyes of the officer drilled into those of the rustler. He drew +a pad toward him and wrote a few lines, then shoved the tablet of paper +toward Sanders. The latter tore off the sheet and put it in his pocket. + +Sanders spoke again, abruptly. "Understand one thing, Prince. I don't +have to take part in the arrest. I only tell you where to find him." + +"And take me to the spot," added the sheriff, "I'll do the arrestin'." + +"Whyfor must I take you there if I tell you where to go?" + +"You want a good deal for your white alley, Sanders," returned the other +contemptuously. "I'm to take all the chances an' you are to drag down the +reward. That listens good. Nothin' to it. You'll ride right beside me; +then if anything goes wrong, you'll be where I can ask you questions." + +"Do you think I'm double-crossin' you? Is that it?" flushed the +ex-foreman of the Lazy S M. + +"I don't know. It might be Clanton you're double-crossin', or it might be +me," said the sheriff with cynical insolence. "But if I'm the bird you've +made a poor choice. In case we're ambushed, you'll be in nice, easy reach +of my gun." + +"Do I look like a fool?" snapped Sanders. "I'm out for the dough. I'm +takin' you to Clanton because I need the money." + +"Mebbeso. You won't need it long if you throw me down." Then abruptly, +the sheriff dropped into the manner of dry business. "Get down to tacks, +man. Where is Clanton's hang-out?" + +Buck sat down and drew a sketch roughly on the tablet. "Cross the river +at Blazer's Ford, cut over the hills to Ojo Caliente, an' swing to the +east. He's about four miles from Round Top in an old dugout. Maybe +you've heard of Saguaro Cañon. Well, he's holed up in a little gulch +runnin' into it." + +By daybreak next morning the sheriff's posse was in the saddle. In +addition to Sanders, who rode beside Billie unarmed, Goodheart and two +special deputies made up the party. + +The sun was riding high when they reached Ojo Caliente. The party bore +eastward, following a maze of washes, arroyos, and gorges. It was well +into the afternoon when the informer ventured a suggestion. + +"We're close enough. Better light here an' sneak forward on foot," the +man said gruffly. + +As he swung from the horse Billie smiled grimly. He had a plan of his own +which he meant to try. Buck Sanders might not like it, but he was not in +a position to make any serious objection. + +They crept forward to a rim rock above a heavily wooded slope. A +tongue-shaped grove ran down close to the edge of a narrow gulch. + +Prince explained what he meant to do. "We'll all snake down closer. When +I give the word you'll go forward alone, Sanders, an' call Jim out. Ask +him to come forward an' look at yore bronco's hoof. That's all you'll +have to do." + +Sanders voiced a profane and vigorous protest. "Have you forgot who this +guy is you're arrestin'? Go-Get-'Em Jim is no tenderfoot kid. He's chain +lightnin' on the shoot. If he suspects me one steenth part of a second, +that will be long enough for him to gun me good." + +"He'll not have a chance. We'll have him covered all the time." + +"Say, we agreed you was goin' to make this arrest, not me." + +"I'll make it. All you've got to do is to call him out." + +"All!" shrieked Sanders. "You know damned well I'm takin' the big risk." + +"That's the way I intended it to be," the sheriff assured him coolly. +"You're to get the reward, aren't you?" + +The rustler balked. He polluted the air with low, vicious curses, but in +the end he had to come to time. + +They slipped through the grove till they could see on the edge of the +ravine a dug-out. Prince flashed a handkerchief as a signal and Sanders +rode down in the open skirting the timber. He swung from the saddle and +shouted a "Hello, in the house!" + +No answer came. Buck called a second and a third time. He waited, +irresolute. He could not consult with Prince. At last he moved toward the +house and entered. Presently he returned to the door and waved to the +sheriff to come forward. + +Very cautiously the posse accepted the invitation, but every foot of the +way Billie kept the man covered. + +Sanders ripped out a furious oath. "He's done made his get-away. Some one +must 'a' warned him." + +He held out to Prince a note scrawled on a piece of wrapping-paper. It +was in Clanton's pell-mell, huddled chirography:-- + +Sorry I can't stay to entertain you, Billie. Make yourself at home. Bacon +and other grub in a lard can by the creek. Help yourself. + +Crack Sanders one on the bean with your six-gun on account for me. + +JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM. + + + + +Chapter XXV + +The Mal-Pais + + +Billie Prince laughed. The joke was on him, but he was glad of it. As +sheriff of Washington County it had been his duty to accept any aid that +might come from the treachery of Sanders; but as a friend of Jim Clanton +he did not want to win over him by using such weapons. + +"Tickled to death, ain't you?" snapped the ex-foreman sourly. "Looks to +me like you didn't want to make this arrest, Mr. Sheriff. Looks to me +like some one else has been doin' some double-crossin' besides me." + +"Naturally _you'd_ think that," cut in Goodheart dryly. "The facts +probably are that Go-Get-'Em Jim, knowin' his friends pretty well, had +you watched, found out you called on the sheriff, an' guessed the rest. +He's not a fool, you know." + +"That's right. Git ready an alibi," Sanders snarled. + +Casually Goodheart picked up the piece of wrapping-paper upon which the +note had been written. He read aloud the last sentence. + +"'Crack Sanders one on the bean with your six-gun on account for me.' +Seems to me if I was you, Buck, I'd alibi myself down the river into +Texas as quick as I could jog a bronco along. But, of course, I don't +know yore friend Go-Get-'Em as well as you do. Mebbe you'll be able to +explain it to him. Tell him you were hard up an' needed the money." + +The eyes of the rustler flashed from Goodheart to the sheriff. They were +full of sinister suspicion. Had these men arranged to deliver him into +the hands of Clanton? Was he himself going to fall into the pit he had +dug? + +"Gimme back my gun an' I'm not afraid of him or any of you," he bluffed. + +"You'll get yore gun when we reach Los Portales," Prince told him. "I +left it in my office." + +"I ain't goin' to Los Portales." + +"All right. Leave yore address and I'll send the gun by the buckboard +driver." + +All the baffled hate and cupidity of Sanders glared out of his wolfish +face. "I'll let you know later where I'm at." + +He straddled out of the house, pulled himself astride the waiting horse, +and rode up the hill. Presently he disappeared over the crest. + +"Much obliged, Jack," said Prince, smiling. "Exit Mr. Buck Sanders from +New Mexico. Our loss is Texas's gain. Chalk up one bad man emigrated +from Washington County." + +"He's sure goin' to take my advice," agreed the lank deputy. A little +chuckle of amusement escaped from his throat. "To the day of his death +he'll think we sent word to Go-Get-'Em Jim. I'll bet my next pay-check +against a dollar Mex that he forgets to send you that address." + +Billie availed himself of the invitation of Clanton to make himself at +home. He and his posse spent the night in the dug-out and returned to Los +Portales next day. For the better part of a week he was detained there on +business, after which he took the stage to Live-Oaks. + +News was waiting for Prince at the county seat that led him for a time to +forget the existence of Clanton. The buckboard driver from El Paso +reported the worst sand-storm he had ever encountered. It had struck him +a mile or two this side of the Mal-Pais, as the great lava beds in the +Tularosa Basin are commonly called. He had unhitched the horses, +overturned the buckboard, and huddled in the shelter of the bed. There he +had lain crouched for ten hours while the drifting sand, fine as powder, +blotted out the world and buried him in drifts. He was an old plainsman, +tough as leather, and he had weathered the storm safely. A full day late +he staggered into Live-Oaks a sorry sight. + +The news that shook Live-Oaks into swift activity had to do with Lee +Snaith. Just before the storm hit him the buckboard driver had met her +riding toward the Mal-Pais. + +Prince arrived to find the town upside down with the confusion of +preparation. Swiftly he brought order out of the turmoil. He organized +the rescue party, assigned leaders to the divisions, saw that each man +was properly outfitted, and mapped off the territory to be covered by +each posse. Outwardly he was cool, efficient, full of hopeful energy. But +at his heart Billie felt an icy clutch of despair. What chance was there +for Lee, caught unsheltered in the open, when the wiry, old Indian +fighter, protected by his wagon, had barely won through alive? + +Every horse in Live-Oaks that could be ridden was in the group that +melted into the night to find Lee Snaith. Every living soul left in the +little town was on the street to cheer the rescuers. + +The sheriff divided his men. Most of them were to spend the night, and if +necessary the next day and night, in combing the sand desert east of the +Mal-Pais. Here Lee had last been seen, and here probably she had wandered +round and round until the storm had beaten her down. It took little +imagination to vision the girl, flailed by the sweeping sand, bewildered +by it, choked at every gasping breath, hopelessly lost in the tempest. + +Yet some bell of hope rang in Billie's breast. She might have reached the +lava. If so, there was a chance that she might be alive. For though the +wind had sweep enough here, the fine dust-sand of the alluvial plain +could not be carried so densely into this rock-sea. Perhaps she had +slipped into a fissure and found safety. + +For fifty miles this great igneous bed stretches, a rough and broken sea +of stone, across the thirsty desert. Its texture is like that of slag +from a furnace. Once, in the morning of the world, it flowed from the +crater along the line of least resistance, a vitreous river of fire. In a +great molten mass it swept into the valleys, crawling like a great snake +here and there, pushing fiery tongues into every crevice of the hills. + +The margin of its flow is a cliff or steep slope varying in height from a +few feet to that of a good-sized tree. Between the silt plain and the +general level of its bed rises a terrace. In front of it Prince stopped +and distributed the men he had reserved to search the lava bed. He gave +definite, peremptory orders. + +"We'll keep about two hundred yards apart. Every twenty minutes each of +you will fire his revolver. If any of you find Miss Snaith or any +evidence of her, shoot three times in rapid succession. Each of you pass +the signal down the line by firing four shots. Those who hear the three +shots go in as fast as you can to the rescue. The others--those farther +away, who hear the four shots only--will turn an' work back to the plain, +continuing to fire once every twenty minutes. Do exactly as I tell you, +boys. If you don't, some one will be lost an' may never get out alive. If +any one of you gets out of touch with the rest of us, stay right where +you are till mornin', then come out by the sun." + +The horses were left in charge of a Mexican boy. The surface of the +deposit is so broken that even a man on foot has difficulty in traversing +it. Prince crawled forward from the terrace up the rough slope of the +cliff which at this point bounded it. At the top of the rim he rose and +came face to face with another man. + +"A good deal like frozen hell, Billie," the other said casually. + +"Where did you come from?" demanded the sheriff, amazed. + +Jim Clanton laughed grimly. "I've been with yore party half an hour. Why +shouldn't I be here when Lee Snaith is lost?" + +"You were hiding in Live-Oaks?" + +"Mebbeso. Anyway, I'm here. I'll take the right flank, Billie." + +"Do you think there's a chance, Jim?" The voice of Prince shook with +emotion. It was the first sign of distress he had given. + +Clanton reflected just a moment before he answered. "I think there's just +a chance. She saved our lives once, Billie. If she's alive we'll find +her, you an' me." + +"By God, yes." Prince turned away. He could not talk about it without +breaking down. + +In the stress of a great shock Billie had made a vital discovery. The +most important thing that would ever come to him in life was to find Lee +Snaith alive. How blind he had been! He could see her now in imagination, +as in reality he had seen her a hundred times, moving in the sun-pour +with elastic tread, full-throated and deep-chested, athrob with life in +every generous vein. How passionately she had loved things brave and +true! How anger had flamed up in her like fire among tow at meanness and +hypocrisy. Surely all the beauty of her person, the fineness of her +character, could not be blotted out so wantonly. If there was any economy +in his world God would never permit waste like that. + +He wanted her. His soul cried out for her. and stormily he prayed that he +might find her alive and well, that the chance might still be given him +to tell her how much he loved her. + +Sometimes he covered small distances where the flow structure was +comparatively smooth, broken only by minor irregularities. Again he came +to abrupt pits, deep caverns, tumbled heaps of broken slabs, or jagged +chunks of lava twisted into strange shapes. No doubt the volcanic flow +had hardened to a crust on top, cracked, and sunk into the furnace below. +This process must have gone on indefinitely. + +He crept from slab to slab, pulled himself across chasms, worked slowly +forward in the darkness. At intervals he fired and listened for an +answer. Occasionally there drifted to him the sound of a shot from one of +the other searchers. As the hours passed and brought to him no signal +that the girl had been found, his hopes ebbed. It was very unlikely that +she could have wandered so far into the bad lands as this. + +He shuddered to think of her alone in this vast tomb of death. Suppose +she were here and they never found her. Suppose she were asleep when he +passed, worn out by terror and exhaustion. His voice grew hoarse from +shouting. Sometimes, when the thought of her fate would become an agony +to him, he could hardly keep his shout from rising to a scream. + +Billie struck a match and looked at his watch. It was five minutes past +three. A faint gray was beginning to sift into the sky. He had been +nearly seven hours in the Mal-Pais. Out in God's country the world would +soon be shaking sleep from its eyes. In this death zone there was neither +waking nor sleeping. "Frozen hell," Clanton had called it. Prince +shuddered. + +The flare of the match had showed him that he was standing close to the +edge of a fissure. In the darkness he could not see to the bottom of it. + +A faint breath of a whimper floated to him. He grew rigid, every nerve +taut. He dared not let himself believe it could be real. Of course he was +imagining sounds. Presently, no doubt, he would hear voices. In this +devil's caldron a man could not stay quite sane. + +Again, as if from below his feet, was lifted a strangled, little sob. + +"Lee!" he called huskily with what was left of his voice. + +Something in the cavern moved. By means of outcropping spars of rock he +lowered himself swiftly. + +The darkness was Stygian. He struck another match. + +From the gloom beyond the space lit by the small flame came the rustle of +something stirring. The match burned out. He lit another and groped +forward. His foot struck an impediment. + +He looked down into the startled eyes and white face of Lee Snaith. + + + + +Chapter XXVI + +A Dust-Storm + + +It had been a beautiful day of sunshine when Lee left Live-Oaks to ride +to the Ninety-Four Ranch. Not a breath of wind stirred. The desert slept +in a warm, golden bath. It was peaceful as old age. + +But as the sun slipped past the meridian, gusts swept across the sands +and whipped into the air inverted cones that whirled like vast tops in a +wild race to nowhere. The air waves became more frequent and more +furious. When Lee passed the buckboard driver, the whole desert seemed +alive with stinging sand. + +He called something to her that was lost in the wind. The girl waved at +him a gauntleted hand. She had been out in dust-storms before and was not +in the least alarmed. Across the lower part of her face she had tied a +silk handkerchief to protect her mouth and nostrils from the sand. + +The mail carrier had scarcely disappeared before the fury of the wind +increased. It lashed the ground with heavy whips, raging and screaming in +shrill, whistling frenzy, until the desert rose in terror and began to +shift. + +Lee bent her head to escape the sand that filled her eyes and nostrils +and beat upon her cheeks so unmercifully. She thought perhaps the tempest +would abate soon and she slipped from the saddle to crouch close to the +body of the horse for protection. Instead of decreasing, the gale rose to +a hurricane. It was as if the whole sand plain was in continuous, +whirling motion. + +The horse grew frightened and restless. It was a young three-year-old Jim +Clanton had broken for her. Somehow--Lee did not know quite the way +it happened--the bridle rein slipped from her fingers and the colt was +gone. + +She ran after the pony--called to it frantically--fought in pursuit +against the shrieking blasts. The animal disappeared, swallowed in the +whirl-wind that encompassed her and it. Lee sank down, sheltering her +face with her arms against the pelting sand sleet. + +But years in the outdoor West had given Lee the primal virtue, courage. +She scorned a quitter, one who lay down or cried out under punishment. +Now she got to her feet and faced the storm. The closeness of her +horizon--her outstretched arms could almost touch the limit of +it--confused the mind of the girl. She no longer knew east from west, +north from south. With a sudden sinking of the heart she realized that +she was lost in this gray desert blizzard. + +Blindly she chose a direction and plunged forward. At times the wind hit +her like a moving wall and flung her to the ground. She would lie there +panting for a few moments, struggle to her knees, and creep on till in a +lull she could again find her feet. + +How much of this buffeting, she wondered, could one endure and live? The +air was so filled with dust that it was almost impossible to get a +breath. Her muscles ached with the flogging they were receiving. She was +so exhausted, her forces so spent, that the hinges of her knees buckled +under her. + +One of her feet struck against a rise in the ground and she stumbled. She +lay there motionless for what seemed a long time before it penetrated her +consciousness that one of her palms pained from a jagged cut the fall had +caused. Her body lay on sharp-pointed rocks. As far as they could reach, +the groping fingers of the girl found nothing but hard, rough stone. +Then, in a flash, the truth came to her. She had reached the Mal-Pais. + +She crept across the lava in an effort to escape the strangling wind. Its +rage followed her, drove the girl deeper into the bad lands. A renewal of +hope urged her on. In its rough terrain she might find shelter from the +tornado. In short stages, with rests between, she pushed into the +vitreous lake, dragged herself up from the terrace, fought forward +doggedly for what seemed to her an age. + +A crevice barred the way. The fissure was too wide to step across and was +perhaps ten feet deep. Lee slid into it, slipped, and fell the last step +or two of the descent. She lay where she had fallen, too worn out to +move. + +It must have been almost at once that she fell asleep. + +The stars were out when she awakened, her muscles stiff and aching from +the pressure of her weight upon the rock. The girl lay for a minute +wondering where she was. Above was a narrow bar of starlit sky. The walls +of her pit of refuge were within touch of her finger tips. Then memory of +the storm and her escape from it flashed back to her. + +She climbed easily the rough side of the cavern and looked around. The +wind had died so that not even a murmur of it remained. As far as the eye +could see the lava flow extended without a break. But she knew the cavern +in which she had slept lay at a right angle to the line of her advance. +All site had to do was to face forward and keep going till she reached +the plain. The reasoning was sound, but it was based on a wrong premise. +Lee had clambered out of the fissure on the opposite side from that by +which she had entered. Every step she took now carried her farther into +the bad lands. + +Morning broke to find her completely at sea. Even the boasted weather of +the Southwest played false. A drizzle of rain was in the air. Not until +late in the afternoon did the sun show at all and by that time the +wanderer was so deep in the Mal-Pais that when night closed down again +she was still its prisoner. + +She was hungry and fagged. The soles of her boots were worn out and her +feet were badly blistered. Again she took refuge in a deep crevice for +the night. + +The loneliness appalled her. No living creature was to be seen. In all +this awful desolation she was alone. Her friends at Live-Oaks would think +she was at the Ninety-Four Ranch. Even if they searched for her she would +never be found. After horrible suffering she would die of hunger and +thirst. She broke down at last and wept herself to sleep. + + + + +Chapter XXVII + +"A Lucky Guy" + + +Lee had the affrighted look of one roused suddenly from troubled dreams. +The whimper that had drawn the attention of Prince must have come from +her restless, tortured sleep. Not till his second match flared had she +been really awake. + +"Thank God!" he cried brokenly, all the pent emotion of the long night +vibrant in his tremulous voice. + +She began to sob, softly, pitifully. + +The match went out, but even in the blackness of the pit he could not +escape the look of suffering he had seen on her face. Her habit was to do +all things with high spirit. He could guess how much she had endured to +bring those hollow shadows under her dusky eyes. The woe of the girl +touched his heart sharply, as if with the point of a rapier. + +He stooped, lifted her gently, and gathered her like a hurt child into +his arms. "You poor lost lamb," he murmured. And again he cried, "Thank +God, I came in time." + +Her arms crept round his neck. She clung to him for safety, fearfully, +lest even now he might vanish from her sight. Long, ragged sobs shook the +body resting in his arms. He whispered words of comfort, stroked gently +the dark head of blue-black hair, held her firmly so that she might know +she had found a sure refuge from the fate that had so nearly devoured +her. + +The spasmodic quivering of the body died away. She dabbed at her eyes +with a rag of a handkerchief and withdrew herself from his arms. + +"I'm a nice baby," she explained with a touch of self-contempt. "But it's +been rather awful, Billie. I ... I didn't know whether ..." + +"It's been the worst night of my life," he agreed. "I've been in hell for +hours, dear. If--if anything had happened to you--" + +The heart of the girl beat fast. She told herself he did not mean--could +not mean what, with a sudden warmth of joy, her soul hunger had read +into his words. + +Prince uncorked his canteen and she drank. He gave her sandwiches and she +devoured them. After he had helped her from the fissure he fired three +shots. Faintly from the left came the answering bark of a revolver. What +might almost have been an echo of it drifted from the right. + +Lee Snaith was the most competent young woman the sheriff had ever met. +He knew her self-reliant and had always guessed her sufficient to +herself. Toward him especially he had sensed a suggestion of cool +hostility. They had been friends, but with a distinct note of reservation +on her part. + +To-night the mask was off. She had come too close to raw reality to think +of her pride. The morning light was sifting into the sky now. Billie +could see the girl more clearly as she sat on a slab of rock waiting for +the other searchers to join them. Was it his imagination that found in +her an unwonted shyness of the dark eyes, a gentle timidity of manner +when she looked at him? + +His emotion still raced at high tide. What an incomparable mate she would +be for any man! The rich contralto of her voice, the slow, graceful turn +of the exquisite head, the vividness she brought to all her activities! +How easy it was to light in her fine eyes laughter, indignation, the rare +smile of understanding! Life with her would be an adventure into the +hill-tops. With all his heart he yearned to take it beside her. + +There were strange flashes in his eyes to-night that signaled to her a +message she had despaired of ever receiving. The long lashes of the girl +fell to the hot cheeks. A pulse of excitement beat in her blood. A few +minutes before she had clung to him despairingly. Now she wanted to run +away and hide. + +He stepped close to her and let his hand fall lightly on her arm. + +"I've been blind all these years, Lee," he told her. "It's you I love." + +She stole a little look at him with shy, incredulous eyes. "Have you +forgotten--Polly?" + +"I haven't been in love with her for years, but I didn't know it till +about the Christmas holidays. She was a habit with me. There never was +a sweeter girl than Polly Roubideau. I'll always think a heap of her. +But--well, she had more sense than I had--knew all the time we weren't +cut out for each other." He laughed a little, flushing with +embarrassment. It is not the easiest thing in the world to explain to a +girl why you have neglected her in favor of another. + +Lee trembled. The desire was strong in her to seize her happiness while +she could. Surely she had waited long enough for it. But some impulse of +fair play to him or of justice to herself held back the tide of love she +longed to release. + +"I think ... you are impulsive," she said at last. "If you have anything +you want to tell me, better wait until ..." + +"Not another moment!" he cried. "I've been in torment all night. I ... I +thought I'd lost you forever. You don't care for me, of course. You +never have liked me very well, but--" + +"Haven't I?" she breathed softly, not looking at him. + +Love irradiated and warmed her. She forgot all she had suffered during +the years she had waited for him to know his mind. She forgot the +privations of the past two days. Her eyes were tender with the mist of +unshed tears. + +"It's going to be the biggest thing in my life. If there's any chance at +all I'll wait as long as you like. Of course, the idea's new to you +because you haven't ever thought of me that way--" + +"You know so much about it," she replied, a faint smile in her dark +eyes that had in it something of wistfulness, something of self-mockery. +She looked directly at him and let him have it full in the face. "I ought +to be ashamed of it, I suppose, but I'm not. I've thought of you--that +way--lots of times. All girls do, when they meet a man they like." + +"You like me?" + +She might have told him that her heart had been his ever since that first +week when she had met him and Clanton on the river. She might have added +that all he had needed to do was to whisper "Come" and she would have +galloped across New Mexico to meet him. But she made no such confession. + +"Yes, I ... like you," she said, a little tremor in her voice. + +He noticed that she did not look at him. Her eyes had fallen to the +fingers laced together on her lap. Under compulsion of his steady gaze +she lifted her lashes at last. What he read there was beyond belief. +The wonder of it lifted his feet from the earth. + +"Lee!" he cried, joy and fear in the balance. + +She answered his unspoken question with a little nod. + +His hand shook. "I've been a blind idiot, dear. I never guessed such a +thing." + +"You were thinking about Polly all the time. I don't blame you. She's the +sweetest thing I ever knew." + +Billie sat down on the spar of rock beside her. His hand slipped down her +arm till it covered hers. With the contact there came to him a flood of +courage. He took her in his arms and kissed her with infinite tenderness. + +Still unstrung from her adventures, she wept a little into his shoulder +out of a full heart. + +"D--don't mind me," she urged. "It's just because I'm so happy." + +If Clanton, when he found them together a few minutes afterward, guessed +what had happened, he gave no evidence of it but a grin, unless his later +comment had a cryptic meaning. "I'll bet Billie is the glad lad at +findin' you. He always was a lucky guy." + +"I think I'm a little lucky too," Lee said with a grave smile. + +Before starting, Prince examined the soles of the girl's boots. Out of +his hat he fashioned a pair of overshoes and fastened them with strings +to her feet. + +"They'll help some," he promised. "I reckon you're not goin' to do much +walkin' anyhow with three husky men along." + +By this time the searcher on the other flank had joined them. The return +trip was a long, hard one, but with Billie on one side of her, and Jim on +the other, Lee found it easy travelling. They aided her over the sharp +rocks and lifted her across the rougher stretches of lava. + +At the edge of the lava bed a buggy was waiting to take Lee to Live-Oaks +in case she should be found. Prince helped Lee in and took the place of +the boy who had driven it out. + +Clanton put his foot on the hub of the wheel. "Just a minute, Billie. I'm +wanted for the killin' of Homer Webb. I didn't shoot him an' I don't +know who did. Somebody must have been lyin' there in the chaparral +waitin' for him. I'll give myself up an' stand trial if you'll guarantee +me fair play. No lynchin' bee. No packed jury. All the cards dealt fair +an' honest above the table." + +The sheriff had smiled at Pauline Roubideau's implicit faith in Jim +Clanton's word. But now, face to face with his friend, he too believed +and felt a load lift from his heart. + +"That's a deal, Jim. You won't have to reckon with any mob or any +hand-picked jury, I'll tell you the truth. I thought you did it. But if +you say you didn't, that goes with me. I'll see you through." + +"Good enough. I'll drop in to-morrow an' we can fix things up. I'd like +to be tried outside of Washington County. There's too much prejudice here +one way an' another. Well, take this little lady home an' scold her good +for the way she's been actin'. She'd ought to get married to a man that +will look after her an' not let her go buckin' into cyclones." + +Billie smiled. "I'll talk to her about that, old scout." + +Miss Snaith blushed furiously, but the best she could do was a bit of +weak repartee. "I used to have hopes that you would ask me, Jim." + +Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em laughed with friendly malice. "I used to have hopes, +too, in that direction, Lee, but I haven't any more. You be good to her +or we also-rans will boil you in oil, Billie." + + + + +Chapter XXVIII + +Sheriff Prince Functions + + +"Yippy yip yip yip!" + +Old Reb, Quantrell's ex-guerrilla, now boss of mule-skinners for Prince, +galloped down the street waving an old dusty white hat. Women and +children and old men dribbled out from the houses, all eager for the +news. + +"Billie he found Miss Lee in the Mal-Pais. That boy sure had his lucky +pants on to-day. She's all right too. I done seen her myself--just a mite +tuckered out, as you might say," explained the former cowpuncher. + +Live-Oaks shook hands with itself in exuberant joy. For an hour the +school bell pealed out the good news. A big bonfire blazed in the +court-house square. Wise dames busied themselves baking bread and frying +doughnuts and roasting beef for the rescue party now homeward bound. It +was a certainty that their men-folks would all be hungry and ready for a +big feed. + +By noon most of the searchers were back in town and the saloons were +doing big business. When Prince drove down the main street of Live-Oaks +an hour later, the road was jammed as for a Fourth-of-July celebration. +Tired though she was, Lee had not the heart to disappoint these good +friends. She went to the picnic ground at Fremont's Grove and was hugged +and kissed by all the woman at the dinner. She wept and was wept over +till her lover decided she had had all the emotion that was good for her, +whereupon he took her back to the home of her aunt and with all the +newborn authority of his position ordered her to bed. + +"But it's only three o'clock in the afternoon," Lee protested. + +"Good-night," answered Billie inexorably. + +She surrendered meekly. "If you say I must, my lord. I _am_ awf'lly +tired." Little globes of gladness welled up in her eyes. "Everybody's so +good to me, Billie. I didn't know folks were so kind. I can't think what +I can ever do to pay them back." + +"I'll tell you how. You be good to yourself, honey," he told her with a +sudden wave of emotion as he caught and held her tight in his arms. "You +quit takin' chances with blizzards an' crazy gunmen an'--" + +"--And horsethieves hidden in the chaparral?" she asked with a flash of +demure eyes. + +"You're goin' to take an awful big chance with one ex-horsethief. Lee, +I'm the luckiest fellow on earth." + +She nestled closer to him. Her lips trembled to his kiss. + +"Billie, you're sure, aren't you?" she whispered. "It wasn't just pity +for me." + +He chose to reassure her after the fashion of a lover, in that wordless +language which is as old as Eden. + +His heart was full of her as he swung down the street buoyantly. He +had known her saucy, scornful, and imperious. He had known her gay +and gallant, had been the victim of her temper. Occasionally he had +seen glimpses of tenderness toward Pauline and of motherliness +toward Jim Clanton. But never until last night had he found her +dependent and clinging. Her defense against him had been a manner of cool +self-reliance. In the stress of her need that had been swept aside to +show her flamy and yet shy, quick with innocent passion. She wanted him +for a mate, just as he wanted her, and she made no concealment of it. In +the candor of her love he exulted. + +Lee slept round the clock almost twice and appeared for a late breakfast. +Her aunt told her some news with which Live-Oaks was buzzing. + +Go-Get-'Em Jim had ridden into town, stopped at the sheriff's office, and +demanded cynically the thousand dollars offered by the Webb estate for +his arrest. + +"He'll come to no good end," prophesied Miss Snaith, senior. + +"You don't quite understand him, aunt," protested Lee. "That's just his +way. He likes to grand-stand, and he does it rather well. But he isn't +half so bad as he makes out. He says he did not shoot Mr. Webb, and we +feel sure he didn't." + +"Of course he says so," replied the older woman indignantly. "Why +wouldn't he say so? But Dad Wrayburn was there and saw it all. There has +been a lot too much promiscuous killing and he's one of the worst of the +lot, your Jim Clanton is. Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em, indeed! I hope the law goes +and gets him now it has a chance." + +The opinion of Lee's aunt was in accord with the general sentiment. +Washington County had within the past year suffered a change of heart. It +had put behind its back the wild and reckless days of its youth when +every man was a law to himself. Bar-room orators talked virtuously of law +and order. They said it behooved the county to live down its evil +reputation as the worst in the United States. Times had changed. The +watchword now should be progress. It ought no longer to be a +recommendation to a man that he could bend a six-gun surer and quicker +than other folks. "Movers" in white-topped wagons were settling up the +country. A railroad had pushed in to Live-Oaks. There was a lot of talk +about Eastern capital becoming interested in irrigation and mining. It +was high time to remember that Live-Oaks and Los Portales were not now +frontier camps, but young cities. + +Since Live-Oaks had been good for so short a time it wanted to prove by a +shining example how it abhorred the lawlessness of its youth. At this +inopportune moment Clanton gave himself up to be tried for the murder of +Homer Webb. + +When the news spread that Clanton had been given a change of venue and +was to be tried at Santa Fe, the citizens of Live-Oaks were distinctly +annoyed. It was known that the sheriff had always been a good friend of +the accused man. The whisper passed that if he ever took Go-Get-'Em Jim +out of the county the killer would be given a chance to escape. + +Into town from the chaparral drifted the enemies Clanton had made during +his career as a gunman. Yankie and Albeen and Dumont and Bancock moved to +and fro in the crowds at the different gambling places and saloons. Even +Roush, who in the past three years had never given young Clanton an +opportunity to meet him face to face, stole furtively into the tendejons +of the Mexican quarter and spent money freely in treating. Among the +natives Go-Get-'Em Jim was in ill-repute for shooting a bad man named +Juan Ortez who had attempted to terrorize the town while on a spree. + +"We're spendin' a lot of good money on this job. We'd ought to pull it +off," Dumont whispered to Albeen. + +"Whose money?" asked the one-armed man cynically. + +It struck him as an ironic jest that the money they had got from the sale +of Homer Webb's cattle should be spent to bring about the lynching of the +man who had killed him. + +Both the sheriff and his deputy were out of town rounding up a half-breed +Mexican who had stabbed another at a dance. They reached Live-Oaks with +their prisoner about the middle of the afternoon. Lee was waiting for +them impatiently at the court-house. + +"They're planning to lynch Jim," she told Prince abruptly. + +"Who's goin' to do all that?" he asked. + +"The riff-raff of the county are back of it, but the worst of it is that +they've got a lot of good people in with them. Some of the Flying V Y +riders are in town too. I never saw so much drinking before." + +"When is it to be?" + +"I don't know." + +"Who told you?" + +"Bud Proctor. He says Yankie and Albeen and that crowd are spending +hundreds of dollars at the bars." + +"I knew there was somethin' on foot soon as we hit town--felt it in the +air." The sheriff looked at his watch. "We can just catch the afternoon +train, Jack. Take this bird downstairs an' lock him up. I'll join you in +a minute." + +"What are you going to do?" asked Lee as soon as they were alone. + +"Goin' to slip Jim aboard the train an' take him to Santa Fe." + +"Can you do it without being seen?" + +"I'll tell you that later," he answered with a grim smile. "Much obliged, +honey. I'm goin' to be right busy now, but I'll see you soon as I get +back to town." + +Lee nodded good-bye and wait out. She liked it in him that just now he +had no time even for her. From the door she glanced back. Already he was +busy getting his guns ready. + +Prince got his keys and unlocked the room where Clanton was. Jim was on +the bed reading an old newspaper. + +"Hello, Billie," he grinned. + +"We're leaving on the afternoon train, Jim. Get a move on you an' hustle +yore things together." + +"Thought you weren't goin' till next week." + +"Changed my mind. Jim, there's trouble afoot. Yore enemies are all in +town. I want to get you away." + +Clanton did not bat an eye. "Plannin' a necktie party, are they?" + +"They've got notions. Mine are different." "Do I get a gun if it comes to +a showdown, Billie?" + +"You do. I'll appoint you a deputy." + +Jim laughed. "That sounds reasonable." + +Goodheart joined them. The three men left the back door of the +court-house and cut across the square. The station was three blocks +distant. Before they had covered a hundred yards a boy on the other side +of the street stopped, stared at them, and disappeared into the nearest +saloon. + +The prisoner looked at his friend and grinned gayly. "Somethin' stirrin' +soon. We're liable to have a breeze in this neighborhood, looks like." + +They reached the station without being molested, but down the street +could be seen much bustle of men running to and fro. Prince looked at +them anxiously. + +"The clans are gathering," murmured Clanton nonchalantly, his hands in +his pockets. "Don't you reckon maybe you'll have to feed me to the +wolves after all, Billie?" + +A saddled horse blinked in the sun beside the depot, the bridle rein +trailing on the ground. Its owner sat on a dry-goods box and whittled. +Jim glanced at the bronco casually. Jack Goodheart also observed the +cowpony. He whispered to the sheriff. + +Prince turned to his prisoner. "Jim, you can take that horse an' hit the +dust, if you like." + +"Meanin' that you can't protect me?" + +The salient jaw of the sheriff tightened. He looked what he was, a man +among ten thousand, quiet and forceful, strong as tested steel. + +"You'll have exactly the same chance to weather this that we will." + +A mob of men was moving down the street in loose formation. There was +still time for a man to fling himself into the saddle and gallop away. + +"You'd rather I'd stay, Billie." + +"Yes. I'm sheriff. I'd like to show this drunken outfit they can't take a +prisoner from me." + +Clanton gave a little whoop of delight. "Go to it, son. You're law west +of the Pecos. Let's see you make it stick." + +Live-Oaks was as yet the terminus of the railroad. The train backed into +the station just as the first of the mob arrived. + +"Nothin' doin', Prince," announced Yankie, swaggering forward. "You're +not goin' to take this fellow Clanton away. We've come to get him." + +"That's right," agreed Albeen. + +Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em grinned. "Makes twice now you've come to get me." + +"We didn't make it go last time. Different now," said Bancock, moving +forward. + +"That's near enough," ordered Prince. "You've made a mistake, boys. I'm +sheriff of Washington County, and this man's my prisoner." + +"He's yore old side kick, too, ain't he?" jeered Yankie. + +Goodheart, following the orders he had received, moved forward to the +engine and climbed into the cab beside the engineer and fireman. The +sheriff and his prisoner backed to the steps of the smoking-car. Billie +had had a word with the brakeman, his young friend Bud Proctor, who had +at once locked the door at the other end of the smoker. + +"Now," said Prince in a low voice. + +Jim ran up lightly to the platform of the coach and passed inside. A howl +of anger rose from the mob. There was a rush forward. Billie was on the +lower step. His long leg lifted, the toe caught Yankie on the point of +the chin, and the rustler went back head first into the crowd as though +he had been shot from a catapult. + +Instantly Prince leaped for the platform and whirled on the mob. He held +now a gun in each hand. His eyes glittered dangerously as they swept +the upturned faces. They carried to every man in the crowd the message +that his prisoner could not be taken as long as the sheriff was alive. + +Clanton threw open a window of the coach, rested his arms on the sill, +and looked out. Again there was a roar of rage and a forward surge of the +dense pack on the station platform. + +"He ain't even got irons on the man's hands!" a voice shouted. "It's a +frame-up to git him away from us!" + +"Don't hide back there in the rear, Roush. Come right up to the front an' +tell me that," called back Prince. "You're right about one thing. I don't +need to handcuff Clanton. He has surrendered for trial, an' I'm here to +see he gets a fair one. I'll do it if I have to put irons _in_ his +hands--shootin' irons." + +Jim Clanton, his head framed in the window, laughed insolently. He was a +picture of raffish, devil-may-care ease. + +"Don't let Billie bluff you, boys. We can't bump off more'n a dozen or so +of you. Hop to it." + +"You won't laugh so loud when the rope's round yore gullet," retorted +Albeen. + +"That rope ain't woven, yet," flung back the young fellow coolly. + +Even as he spoke a lariat whistled through the air. Jim threw up a hand +and the loop slid harmlessly down the side of the car. One of the riders +of the Flying V Y had tried to drag the prisoner out with a reata. + +"You mean well, but you'll never win a roping contest, Syd," jeered +Clanton. "Good of you an' all my old friends to gather here to see me +off, I see you back there, Roush. It's been some years since we met, an' +me always lookin' for you to say to you a few well-chosen words. I'll +shoot straighter next time." + +The vigilantes raised a howl of fury. They were like a wolf pack eager +for the kill. Between them and their prey stood one man, cool, +indomitable, steady as a rock. He held death in each hand, every man +present knew it. They could get Clanton if they were willing to pay the +price, but though there were game men in the mob, not one of them +wanted to be the first to put his foot on the lower step of the coach. + +From the other end of the car came the sudden noise of hammering. Some +one had found a sledge in the baggage-room and with a dozen armed men +back of him was trying to break down the door. + +Prince called to his prisoner. "You've got to get in this, Jim. I appoint +you deputy sheriff. Unstrap this belt from my waist. Take the other end +of the car an' hold it. No shootin' unless it comes to a showdown. +Understand?" + +Clanton nodded. His eyes gleamed. "I'll behave proper, Billie." + +Five seconds later the beating on the door stopped. The eyes of the big +blacksmith with the hammer popped out with a ludicrous terror. Go-Get-'Em +Jim was standing in the aisle grinning at him with a six-gun in each +hand. With a wild whoop the horseshoer dropped the sledge and turned. He +flung himself down the steps carrying with him half a dozen others. Not +till he was safe in his own shop two blocks away did he stop running. + +A shrill whistle rang out from the side of the train farthest from the +station. The wheels began to move slowly. There was a rush for the +engine. Jack Goodheart stood in the door of the cab ready for business. + +"No passengers allowed here, boys," he announced calmly. "Take the +coaches in the rear." + +A dozen revolvers cracked. There was a rattle of breaking windows. The +engine, baggage-car, and smoker moved forward, leaving the rest of the +train on the track. + +Men, swarming like ants, had climbed to the top of the cars, evidently +with some idea of getting at their victim from above. Some of these were +on the forward coaches. They began to drop off hurriedly as the station +fell to the rear. + +The wheels turned faster. Bud Proctor swung aboard and joined the +sheriff. + +"I cut off the other cars and gave the signal to start," he explained +triumphantly. + +"Good boy, Bud. Knew I could tie to you," Prince answered with the warm +smile that always won him friends. + +They passed into the car together. Clanton was leaning far out of the +window waving a mocking hand of farewell to the crowd on the platform. He +drew his head in and handed the weapons back to his friend. + +"Don't I make a good deputy, Billie? I didn't fire even once." + + + + +Chapter XXIX + +"They Can't Hang Me If I ain't There" + + +The jury brought in a verdict of murder in the first degree. Clanton was +sentenced to be hanged at Live-Oaks four weeks after the day the trial +ended. Prince himself had been called back to Washington County to deal +with a band of rustlers who had lately pulled off a series of bold, +wholesale cattle thefts. He left Goodheart to bring the prisoner back +with him in case of a conviction. + +The deputy sheriff left the train at Los Vegas, to which point Prince had +sent a man with horses to meet Jack and the convicted murderer. It was +not likely that the enemies of Clanton would make another attempt to +frustrate the law, but there was a chance that they would. Goodheart did +not take the direct road to Live-Oaks, but followed the river valley +toward Los Portales. + +The party reached the Roubideau ranch at dusk of the third night. Pauline +had been at the place three months keeping house for her father. She flew +to meet Jim, her eyes filled with a divine pity. Both hands went out to +his manacled ones impulsively. Her face glowed with a soft, welcoming +warmth. + +"You poor boy! You poor, poor boy!" she cried. Then, flaming, she turned +on Goodheart: "Bel et bien! Why do you load him down with chains? Are you +afraid of him?" + +The deputy flushed. "I have no right to take any chances of an escape. +You know that." + +"I know he is innocent. Why did they find him guilty?" + +"I had no evidence," explained Jim simply. "Dad Wrayburn swore I shot +twice at Webb just before I disappeared in the brush. Then a shot came +out of the chaparral. It's not reasonable to suppose some one else fired +it, especially when the bullet was one that fitted a forty-four." + +"But you didn't fire it. You told me so in your letter." + +"My word didn't count with the jury. I'd have to claim that, anyhow, to +save my life. My notion is that the bullet didn't come from a six-gun at +all, but from a seventy-three rifle. But I can't prove that either." + +"It isn't fair. It--it's an outrage." Polly burst into tears and took the +slim young fellow into her arms. "They ought to know you wouldn't do +that. Why didn't your friends tell them so?" + +He smiled, a little wistfully. "A gunman doesn't have friends, Polly. +Outside of you an' Lee an' Billie I haven't any. All the newspapers in +the territory an' all the politicians an' most of the decent people have +been pullin' for a death sentence. Well, they've got it." He stroked her +hair softly. "Don't you worry, girl. They won't get a chance to hang me." + +Pauline released him, dabbed at her eyes, and ran, choking, into the +house. + +"You've got to be in trouble to make a real hit with Miss Roubideau," +suggested the lank deputy, a little bitterly. "I'll take those bracelets +off now, Clanton. You can wash for supper." + +Polly saw to it, anyhow, that the prisoner had the best to eat there was +in the house. She made a dinner of spring chicken, mashed potatoes, hot +biscuits, jelly, and apple pie. + +A rider for the Flying V Y dropped in after they had eaten and bridled +like a turkey cock at sight of Clanton. + +"Don't you let him git away from you, Jack," he warned the officer. +"We're allowin' to have a holiday on the sixth up at our place so as to +go to the show. It _is_ the sixth, ain't it?" he jeered, turning to the +handcuffed man on the lounge. + +"The sixth is correct," answered Jim coolly, meeting him eye to eye. + +"You wouldn't talk that way if Clanton was free," said Goodheart. "You're +taggin' yoreself a bully an' a cheap skate when you do it." + +"Say, is that any of yore business, Mr. Deputy Sheriff?" + +"It is when you talk to my prisoner. Cut it out, Swartz." + +"All right." + +The cowpuncher turned to Pauline, who had come to the door and stood +there. "You'll be goin' to the big show on the sixth, Miss Roubideau. +Live-Oaks will be a sure-enough live town that day." + +The young woman walked straight up to the big cowpuncher. Her eyes +blazed. "Get out of this house. Don't ever come here again. Don't speak +to me if you meet me." + +The Flying V Y rider was taken aback. Like a good many young fellows +within a radius of a hundred miles, he was a candidate for the favor of +Pierre Roubideau's daughter. + +"Why, I--I--" he stammered. "I didn't aim for to offend you. This fellow +bushwhacked my boss. He--" + +"That isn't true," she interrupted. "He didn't do it." + +"Sure he did it. Go-Get-'Em Jim is a killer. A girl like you, Miss +Roubideau, has got no business stickin' up for a bad man who--" + +"Didn't you hear me? I told you to go." + +"You've been invited to remove yoreself from the place an' become a part +of the outdoor scenery, Swartz," cut in Goodheart, a snap to his jaw. +"I'd take that invite pronto if I was you." + +The cowpuncher picked up his hat and walked out. The drawling voice of +the prisoner followed him. + +"Don't you worry, Polly. They can't hang me if I ain't there, can they?" + +The deputy guessed that Pauline wished to talk alone with Clanton. +Presently he arose and sauntered to the door. "I want to see yore father +about some horses Billie needs. Back soon." + +He gave them a half-hour, but he took pains to see that his assistant +covered the back door while he watched the front of the house. The +prisoner was handcuffed, but Jack did not intend to take any chances. +Personally he believed that Clanton was guilty, but whether he was or not +it was his duty to bring the convicted man safely to Live-Oaks. This he +meant to do. + + + + +Chapter XXX + +Polly has a Plan + + +Pauline moved across the room and sat down beside Jim. An eager light +shone in her soft, brown eyes. + +"Listen!" she ordered in a low voice. "I've got a plan. There's a chance +that it will work, I think. But tell me first about your sleeping +arrangements. Does Jack or the other guard sit up and watch you all the +time?" + +"No. The champion roper of New Mexico, Arizona, an' Texas throws the +diamond hitch on yours truly. He does an expert job, tucks me up, an' +says good-night. He knows I'm perfectly safe till mornin', especially +since both he an' Brad sleep in the same room with me." + +"Well, I'm going to give you dad's room." She leaned forward and +whispered to him steadily for five minutes. + +The sardonic mockery had vanished from the face of the prisoner. He +listened, every nerve and fiber of him at alert attention. Occasionally +he asked a question. Carefully she explained the plan, going over each +detail of it again and again. + +Jim Clanton was efficient. In those days it was a necessary quality for a +bad man if he wished to continue to function. He offered a suggestion or +two which Pauline incorporated in her proposed campaign of action. At +best her scheme was hazardous. It depended upon all things dovetailing +properly. But he was in no place to pick and choose. All he asked was a +chance and an even break of luck. + +"You dandy girl!" he cried softly, and took her two hands between the +palms of his fettered ones. "I'm a scalawag, Polly. But if you pull this +off for me, I'll right-about-face. That's a promise. Somehow I've never +acted like I wanted to. I've done a heap of wild an' foolish things, an' +I've killed whenever it was put up to me. I don't reckon any woman that +married me would be real happy. But if you'll take a chance 111 go away +from here an' well Make a fresh start. You're the only girl there is for +me." + +A faint smile lay in her eyes. "You used to think Lee was the only girl, +didn't you?" + +"Well, I don't now. I like Polly Roubideau better." + +Abruptly she flung at him a statement that was a question. "You didn't +kill Mr. Webb." + +"No. I never killed but one man without givin' him an even break. That +was Peg-Leg Warren, an' he was a cold-blooded murderer." + +A troubled little frown creased her forehead. "I've thought for more than +a year now that you--liked me that way. And I've had it in my mind +a great deal as to what I ought to do if you spoke to me about it. I wish +you had a good wife, Jim. Maybe she could save you from yourself." + +"Mebbe she could, Polly." + +The lashes of her eyelids fell. She looked down at the bands of iron +around his small wrists. "I--I've prayed over it, Jim. But I'm not clear +that I've found an answer." Her low voice broke a little. "I don't know +what to say." + +"Is it that you are afraid of what I'm goin' to be? Can't you trust yore +life with me? I shouldn't think you could." + +Her eyes lifted and met his bravely. "I think that wouldn't stop me +if--if I cared for you that way." + +"It's Billie Prince, then, is it?" + +"No, it isn't Billie Prince. Never mind who it is. What I must decide is +whether I can make you the kind of wife you need without being exactly--" + +"In love with me," he finished for her. + +"Yes. I've always liked you very much. You've been good to me. I love you +like a brother, I think. Oh, I don't know how to say it." + +"Let's get this straight, Polly. Is there some one else you love?" + +A tide of color flooded her face to the roots of the hair. She met his +steady look reluctantly. + +"We needn't discuss that, Jim." + +"Needn't we?" He laughed a little, but his voice was rough with feeling. +"You're the blamedest little pilgrim ever I did see. What kind of a +fellow do you think I am? I ain't good enough for you--not by a thousand +miles. Even if you felt about me the way I do about you, it would be a +big risk for you to marry me. But now--Sho, little missionary, I ain't so +selfish as to let you sacrifice yore life for me." + +"If I marry you it will be because I want to, Jim." + +"You'll want to because you're such a good little Christian you think +it's up to you to save a brand from the burning. But I won't let you do +any such foolishness. You go marry that other man. If he's a good, +square, decent fellow, you'll be a whole lot better off than if you tied +up with a ne'er-do-well like me." + +They heard a step on the porch. + +"Don't forget. Three taps if you're alone in the room," she said in a +whisper. + +Goodheart came into the parlor with Pierre Roubideau. "Expect we'd better +turn in, Clanton. We've got to make an early start to-morrow." + +The prisoner rose at once. Pauline had drawn her father aside and was +giving him some instructions. The old Frenchman nodded, smiling. He +understood her little feminine devices and was a cheerful victim of them. + +The young woman found a chance for a word alone with the deputy. + +"I want to see you to-night, Jack, about--something." Her eyes were very +bright and the color in the soft cheeks high. She spoke almost in a +whisper. + +The lank young sheriff had the soul of an inarticulate poet. Beneath the +tan of his leathery face the blood burned. This was the first really kind +word he had had from her since their arrival. All her solicitation had +been for the condemned youth in his care. Perhaps all she wanted now was +to ask some favor for Clanton, but hope leaped in his heart. + +He made arrangements for the night in his usual careful way. It was not +pleasant to have to watch the prisoner as a cat does a mouse, but +Goodheart was thorough in whatever he undertook. Skillfully he tied +Clanton in such a way as to allow him enough freedom of motion to change +position without giving him enough to make it possible for him to untie +himself. + +"Back after a while" he told Jim. + +The young man on the bed grunted sleepily and the deputy returned to the +parlor. + +Pauline, still in her kitchen apron, smiled in at the door upon him and +her father. + +"You two go out on the porch and smoke your pipes," she said. "I have to +finish my work in the kitchen, then I have to go down to the cellar and +take care of the milk. Ill not be long." + +Pierre, an obedient parent, rose and moved toward the porch. Before +he left the room Goodheart took the precaution to lock the bedroom +door and pocket the key. He was a little ashamed of this, but he knew +that Go-Get-'Em Jim was a very competent and energetic person. Convicted +and sentenced though he was, Clanton still boasted with cool aplomb that +there would be no hanging on the sixth. The deputy strolled round to the +back of the house to make sure his assistant was still on the job. After +a few words with the man he returned to the porch. He was satisfied there +was no possible chance of an escape. The prisoner lay handcuffed and tied +to a bed by the champion roper of the Southwest. The door of the room was +locked Both exits from the house were guarded. Jack felt that he could +safely enjoy a smoke. + + + + +Chapter XXXI + +Goodheart Makes a Promise and Breaks It + + +Pauline was a singularly honest little soul, but she now discovered in +herself unsuspected capacity for duplicity. She went singing about her +work, apparently care-free as a lark. Presently, still humming a French +chanson, she appeared on the porch swinging a key, passed the two men +with a gay little nod, and disappeared around the corner of the house +to the cellar. + +The rancher apologized for the key. "We've had to lock the cellar lately +since so many movers have been going through on this road. Eh bien! Our +hams--they took wings and flew." + +Polly rattled the milk pans for a moment or two and then listened. From +above there came to her the sound of three faint raps on the woodwork of +the bed. She crept up the stairs that led from the cellar into the house. +At the top of them was a trapdoor. Very slowly and carefully she pushed +this up. Through the opening she passed into a bedroom. + +Softly the girl stole to the bed. From the cellar she had brought a +butcher knife and with this she sawed at the rope which bound the +prisoner. + +"But your handcuffs. What can we do about them?" she whispered. + +Clanton stretched his stiff muscles. He made no answer in words. For a +moment or two his arms writhed, then from out of the iron bracelet his +long slender hand slowly twisted. Soon the second wrist was also free. + +"I've had a lot of fun poked at my girl hands, but they come in useful +sometimes," he murmured. + +"I'll have to hurry back or I'll be missed," she told him. "You'll find a +saddled horse in the aspens." + +He caught her by the shoulders and held her fast. "You've been the +truest little friend ever a man had. You've stuck by me an' believed in +me even when I didn't believe in myself any longer. No matter what folks +said about me or about you for takin' an interest in such a scamp, you +never quit fightin' to keep me decent. I've heard tell of guardian +angels--well, that's what you've been to me, little pilgrim." + +"I haven't forgotten the boy who rode up Escondido Cañon to save me from +death and dishonor," Pauline cried softly. + +"You've paid that debt fifty times. I owe you more than I can tell. I +wisht I knew a way to pay it." + +Her soft and dusky eyes clung to his pleadingly. "If you get away, Jim, +you _will_ be good, won't you?" + +"I'll be as good as I've got it in me to be. I don't know how good that +is, Polly. But I'll do my level best." + +"Oh, I'm so glad," she whispered. "Good luck--heaps of it." + +He was not quite sure whether it was his privilege to kiss the parted red +lips upturned to him, but he took a chance and was not rebuked. + +Pauline went noiselessly down the steps again into the cellar while +Clanton held the trapdoor. He lowered it inch by inch so that it would +not creak, then spread over it the Navajo rug that had been there before +the entrance of the girl. + +Pierre Roubideau was still on his first pipe when Polly came round the +corner of the house and stopped at the porch steps. + +"I want to show you our new colt, Jack," she said to the deputy. This +matter-of-fact statement came a little shyly and a little tremulously +from her lips. Her heart was beating furiously. + +The officer rose at once. "Just a minute," he said, and went into the +house. + +He unlocked the door of the room where Clanton was and glanced in. The +prisoner lay on the bed in the moonlight, the blankets drawn over him. +From his deep, regular breathing Jack judged him to be asleep. He +relocked the door and joined Pauline. + +The face of the girl was very white in the moonlight. Her big eyes +flashed at him a question. Had he discovered that his prisoner was free? + +They walked slowly toward the corral. From it Goodheart could see the +front of the house, but not the cellar entrance at the side. Neither of +them spoke until they reached the fence. He turned and leaned his elbows +against it, facing the house. + +Pauline was under great nervous tension. Her lips were dry and her throat +parched. If the guard at the rear caught sight of the prisoner while he +was escaping, Clanton would certainly be shot down. She knew Jim better +than to hope that he would let himself be taken again alive. + +The conscience of the girl troubled her too. She was doing this to save +the life of a friend, but it was impossible not to feel a sense of +treachery toward this other friend whose approval was so much more +vital to her happiness. Would Jack think that she had conspired against +his honor in an underhanded way? He was a man of strict principles. Would +he cast her off and have no more to do with her? + +She woke from her worries to discover that an emotional climax was +imminent. Jack was telling her, in awkward, broken phrases, of his love +for her. Polly had waited a long time for his confession, but coming at +this hour it filled/her with shame and distress. What an evil chance that +he should be blurting out the story of his faith and trust in her +while she was in the act of betraying him! + +"Don't, Jack, don't!" she begged. + +"It's all right," he said gently. "I know you don't care for me. But I +had to tell you. Just had to do it. Couldn't keep still any longer. It's +all right, Polly. I can stand it. I didn't go for to worry you." + +She wept. + +Her tears distressed him. He urged her to forget his presumption. She had +been so good to him that he had spoken in spite of himself. + +Pauline found she could not let him deceive himself. If she let him go +now, perhaps he might never come back. + +"You goose!" + +Though the words came smothered through her handkerchief, he gained +incredible comfort from them. + +"Polly!" he cried. + +"Don't you say a word, Jack," she ordered. "Let me do the talking." + +"If you'll tell me that--that--you care anything for--for--" + +"--For a big stupid who is too modest ever to think enough of himself," +she completed. "Well, I do. I care a great deal for him." + +"You don't mean--" + +"I do, too. That's just what I mean. No, you keep back there till I'm +through, Jack. I want to find out if you love me as much as I do you." + +"Polly!" he cried a second time. + +Her small face was very serious and white in the moonshine. + +"Suppose we don't agree about something. Say I do a thing that seems +right to me, but it doesn't seem right to you. What then?" + +"It'll seem right to me if you do it," he answered. + +"That's just a compliment." + +"No, it's the truth. Whatever you do seems right to me." + +"But suppose I do something that you think is wrong. Perhaps it may seem +to you disloyal." + +"If you do it because you think you ought to I'll not find it disloyal." + +"Sure, Jack?" + +"Certain sure," he answered. + +"It's a promise?" + +"It's a promise." + +Little imps of mischief bubbled into the brown eyes. "Then why don't you +kiss me, goose?" + +He caught her to him with a fierce rapture. + +There came to them the sudden sound of drumming hoofs. A shot rang out in +the night. Goodheart, with the first kiss of his sweetheart almost on his +lips, flung Pauline aside and ran to the house. + +The other guard met him at the front steps. "By God, he's gone!" the man +cried. + +"Clanton?" + +"Yep." + +"Can't be. He was handcuffed, tied to the bed, and locked in. I've got +the key in my pocket." + +The deputy sheriff took the steps at one bound, flung himself across the +parlor, and unlocked the door. One glance showed him the empty bed, the +displaced rug, and the trapdoor. He stepped forward and picked up the +bits of rope and the handcuffs. + +"Some one cut the rope and freed him," he said, confounded at the +impossibility of the thing that had occurred. + +"Must of slipped his hands out of the cuffs, looks like," the guard +suggested. + +"He got me to give him a bigger size--complained they chafed his wrists." + +"Some trick that, if he _has_ got kid hands." + +The chill eyes of Goodheart gimleted into those of his assistant. "Did +you do this, Brad? God help you if you did." + +A light step sounded on the threshold. Pauline came into the room. "I did +it, Jack," she said. + +"You!" + +"I came up through the trapdoor when I was in the cellar. I cut the rope +and told him there was a horse saddled in the aspens." + +Thoughts raced in his bewildered mind. She had planned all this +carefully. Almost under his very eyes she had done it. Then she had lured +him from the house to give Clanton a better chance. She had let him make +love to her so that she could keep him at the corral while the prisoner +escaped. It was all a trick. Even now she was laughing up her sleeve +at the way she had made a fool of him. + +"You saddled the horse and left it there." His statement was a question, +too. + +"Yes. I had to save him. I knew he was innocent." + +All the explanations she had intended shriveled up before the scorn in +his eyes. He brushed past her without a word and strode out of the house. + +Pauline went to her room and flung herself on the bed. After a time her +father came in and sat down beside the girl. He put a gentle hand on her +shoulder. + +"I know what you think, dad," she said without turning her head. "But I +couldn't help it, I had to do it." + +"It may make you trouble, ma petite." + +"I can't help that. Jim didn't kill Mr. Webb. I know it." + +"After a fair trial a jury said he did, Polly. We have to take their word +for it." + +"You think I did wrong then." + +"You did what you think was right. In my heart is no blame for you." + +He comforted her as best he could and left her to sleep. But she did not +sleep. All through the night she lay and listened. She was miserably +unhappy. Her head and her heart ached. Jack had promised that she should +be the judge of what was right for her to do, and at the first test he +had failed her. She made excuses for him, but the hurt of her +disappointment could not be assuaged. + +In the early morning she heard the clatter of horses' hoofs in the yard. +During the night she had not undressed. Now she rose and went out to meet +her lover. He was at the stable, a gaunt figure, hollow-eyed, dusty, and +stern. He had failed to recapture his prisoner. + +"Jack," she pleaded, reaching out a hand timidly toward him. + +Again he rejected her advance in grim silence. Swinging to the saddle, he +rode out of the gate and down the road toward Live-Oaks. + +With a little whimper Polly moved blindly to the house through her tears. + + + + +Chapter XXXII + +Jim Takes a Prisoner + + +After Goodheart left the room where his prisoner was confined, Clanton +waited a few moments till the sound of his footsteps had died away. He +rose, moved noiselessly across the floor, and raised the trapdoor slowly. +The creaking of the rusty hinges seemed to Jim to be shouting aloud the +news of his escape. The young fellow descended into the cellar and stood +there without moving till his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. He +groped his way to the door, which Pauline had left open an inch or +two. Carefully he edged through and crouched in the gloom at the foot of +the steps. + +Not far away some one was whistling cheerfully. Clanton recognized the +tune as the usual musical offertory of Brad. He was giving "Uncle Ned" to +an unappreciative world. + +The fugitive crept up the steps and peered over the top. Brad was sitting +on a bench against the wall. Evidently he was quite comfortable and had +no intention of moving. The guard was so near that it would not be a fair +risk to try to make a dash across the moonlit open for the aspen grove. +He was so far that before the prisoner could reach him his gun would be +in action. There was nothing to do but wait. Jim huddled against the +sustaining wall while with the passing minutes his chance of escape +dipped away. + +Pierre Roubideau came round the corner of the house and joined Brad. The +guard made room for him on the bench. If Roubideau sat down, the man +in the shadow knew he was lost. They would sit there and chat till +Goodheart came back and discovered his absence. + +The rancher hesitated while he felt for his pipe. "Reckon I left it in +the kitchen," he said. + +Brad followed him round the corner of the house. Clanton waited no +longer. They might return, or they might not. He did not intend to stay +to find out. + +Swiftly he ran toward the aspens. Half the distance he had covered when a +voice called sharply to halt. The guard had turned and caught sight of +him. + +The feet of the running man slapped the ground faster. As he dodged into +the trees a bullet flew past him. Yet a moment, and he had flung himself +astride the bronco waiting there and had electrified that sleepy animal +into life. + +The pony struck its stride immediately. It took the rising ground at a +gallop, topped the hill, and disappeared over the brow. The rider plunged +into the thick mesquite. He knew that Goodheart would pursue, but he +knew, too, that the odds were a hundred to one against capture if he +could put a mile or two between him and the Roubideau ranch. A man could +vanish in any one of fifty draws. He could find a temporary hiding-place +up any gulch under cover of the matted brush. Therefore he turned toward +the mountains. + +Since he was unarmed, it was essential that Clanton should get into touch +with his associates of the chaparral at once. Until he had a six-gun +strapped to his side and a carbine under his leg he would not feel +comfortable. All night he traveled, winding in and out of cañons, +crossing divides, and dipping down into little mountain parks. He knew +exactly where he wanted to go, and he moved toward his destination in the +line of greatest economy. + +Morning found him descending from a mountain pass to the Ruidosa. + +"Breakfast soon, you wall-faced old Piute," Jim told his mount. "You're +sure a weary caballo, but we got to keep hitting the trail till we cross +that hogback." + +A thin film of smoke rose from a little valley to the left. Clanton drew +up abruptly. He had no desire to meet now any strangers whose intentions +had not been announced. + +Swiftly, with a pantherish smoothness of motion, he slid from the cowpony +and moved to the edge of a bluff that looked down into the arroyo below. +He crept forward and peered through a clump of cactus growing at the edge +of the escarpment. + +The camp-fire was at the very foot of the bluff. A man was stooped over +it cooking breakfast. + +The heart of the fugitive lost a beat, then raced wildly. The camper was +Devil Dave Roush. A rifle lay beside him. His revolver was in a cartridge +belt that had been tossed on a boulder within reach of his hand. + +Clanton wriggled back without a sound from the edge of the cliff and rose +to his feet. A savage light of triumph blazed in his eyes. The enemy +for whom he had long sought was delivered into his hands. He ran back to +the bronco and untied the reata from the tientos. Deftly he coiled the +rope and adjusted the loop to suit him. Again he stole to the rim rock +and waited with the stealthy, deadly patience of the crouched cougar. + +Roush rose. His arms fell to his sides. Instantly the rope dropped, +uncoiling as it flew. With perfect accuracy the loop descended upon its +victim and tightened about his waist, pinning the arms close to the body. + +Clanton, hauled in the rawhide swiftly. Dragged from his feet, Roush +could make no resistance. Before he could gather his startled wits, he +found himself dangling in midair against the face of the rock wall. + +The man above fastened the end of the rope to the roots of a scrub oak +and ran down the slope at full speed. In less than half a minute he was +standing breathless in front of his prisoner. + +Already shaken with dread, Roush gave way to panic fear at sight of him. + +"Goddlemighty! It's Clanton!" he cried. + +Jim buckled on the belt and appropriated the rifle. His grim face told +Roush all he needed to know. + +There had been a time when Roush, full of physical life and energy, had +boasted that he feared no living man. In his cups he still bragged of his +bad record, of his accuracy as a gunman, of his gameness. But he knew, +and his associates suspected, that Devil Dave had long since drunk up his +courage. His nerves were jumpy and his heart bad. Now he begged for his +life abjectly. If he had been free from the rope that held him dangling +against the wall, he would have crawled like a whipped cur to the feet of +his enemy. + +At a glance Clanton saw Roush had been camping alone. The hobbled +horse, the blankets, the breakfast dishes, all told him this. But he +took no chances. First he saddled the horse and brought it close to the +camp-fire. When he sat down to eat the breakfast the rustler had cooked, +it was with his back to the bluff and the rifle across his knees. + +"This here rope hurts tur'ble--seems like my wrists are on fire," whined +the man. "You let me down, Mr. Clanton, and I'll explain eve'ything. I +want to be yore friend. I sure do. I don't feel noways onfriendly to you. +Mebbe I used to be a bad lot, but I'm a changed man now." + +Go-Get-'Em Jim said nothing. He had not spoken once, and his silence +filled the roped man with terror. The shifting eyes of Devil Dave read +doom in the cold, still ones of his enemy. + +Sometimes Roush argued in a puling whimper. Sometimes his terror rose to +the throat and his entreaties became shrieks. He died a dozen deaths +while his foe watched him with a chill stillness more menacing than any +threats. + +The first impulse of Clanton had been to stamp out the life of this man +just as he would that of a diamond-backed rattlesnake; but he meant to +take his time about it and to see that the fellow suffered. Not until he +was halfway through the meal did the memory of his pledge to Pauline jump +to his mind. Quickly he pushed it from him. He had not meant to include +Roush in his promise. As soon as he had made an end of this ruffian he +would turn over a new leaf. But not yet. Roush was outside the pale. His +life belonged to Jim. He would be a traitor to the memory of his sister +if he let the villain go. + +The lust for vengeance swelled in the young man's blood like a tide. It +was his right to kill; more, it was his duty. So he tried to persuade +himself. But deep within him a voice was making itself heard. It +whispered that if he killed Roush now, he could never look Pauline +Roubideau in the face again. She had fought gallantly for his soul, and +at last he had pledged his honor to a new course. Not twelve hours ago +she had risked her reputation to save his life. If he failed her now, it +would be a betrayal of all the desires and purposes that had of late been +stirring in him. + +Clammy beads of sweat stood on his forehead. He had been given a new +chance, and it warred with every inherited instinct of his nature. The +fight within was cruel and bitter. But when he rose, his breakfast +forgotten, it was won. He would let Roush go unhurt. He would do it for +the sake of Polly Roubideau, who had been such a good friend to him. + +Devil Dave, ghastly with fear, was still pleading for his life. Clanton, +who had heard nothing of what the fellow had been saying in the past ten +minutes, came to a sudden alert attention. + +"I'll go into court an' swear it if you'll let me be. I'll tell the jedge +an' the jury that Joe Yankie told me an' Albeen an' Dumont that he +bushwhacked Webb an' then cut his stick so that you-all got the blame. +Honest to God, I will, Mr. Clanton. Jest you trust me an' see." + +"When did Yankie tell you that?" + +"He done told us at the camp-fire one night. He made his brags how you +got the blame for it an' would have to hang." + +"Albeen heard him say it--an' Dumont too?" + +"Tha's right, Mr. Clanton. An' I'll sure take my Bible oath on it." + +Go-Get-'Em Jim whipped out the forty-five from its holster and fired. +Roush dropped screaming to the ground. He thought he had been shot. The +bullet had cut the rope above his head. + +"Get up," ordered Clanton in disgust. + +Roush rose stiffly. + +Jim swung to the saddle of the horse beside him. "Hit the dust," he told +his captive. + +The rider followed the footman to the top of the bluff. Here Roush was +instructed to mount the horse Clanton had been astride all night. Riding +behind the tame bad man, Jim cut across the hills to a gulch and followed +it till the ravine ran out in a little valley. He crossed this and +climbed a stiff pass from the other side of which he looked down on +Live-Oaks a thousand feet below. + +The young man tied the hands of his prisoner behind him. From a coat +pocket he drew a looking-glass, caught the sun's rays, and flung them +upon a house in the suburbs of the town. + +Out of the house there presently came a man. He stood in the doorway a +moment before going down the street. A flash of hot sunlight caught him +full in the face. He moved. The light danced after him. Then be woke up. +From the cliff far above friends of his had been wont to heliograph +signals during the late Washington County War. + +He read the light flashes and at once saddled a horse. A few minutes +later he might have been seen on the breakneck trail that leads across +the mountains to the Ruidosa. After a stiff climb he reached the summit +and swung sharply along the ridge to the right. A voice hailed him. + +"Hello, Reb!" + +"Hello, Go-Get-'Em! Thought Goodheart was bringin' you back a prisoner." +Quantrell's old guerrilla looked with unconcealed surprise at the bound +man. He knew the story of Clanton's deep-rooted hatred of the Roush clan. + +"I didn't sign any bond to stay his prisoner," Jim answered dryly. Then, +sharply, he turned upon Roush. "Spill out yore story about Yankie." + +Reluctantly Roush told once more his tale. He spoke only under the +pressure of imminent peril, for he knew that if this ever got back to the +men in the chaparral they would kill him with no more compunction than +they would a coyote. + +"Take this bird down to Billie Prince, Reb. Tell him I jumped Roush on +the Ruidosa, an' he peached to save his hide. This fellow is a born liar, +but I reckon he's tellin' the truth this time. If he rues back on his +story, tell Billie to put an advertisement in the Live-Oaks 'Round-Up' +and I'll drop in to town an' have a stance with Mr. Roush." + +Reb scratched his sunburnt head. "I don't aim to be noways inquisitive, +Go-Get-'Em, but how come you to wait long enough to take this hawss-thief +captive? I'd 'a' bet my best mule team against a dollar Mex that you'd +have gunned him on sight." + +"I'll tell you why, Reb. He had one rifle an' one six-gun. I didn't have +either the one or the other, so I had to borrow his guns before I talked +turkey. By that time I'd changed my mind about bumpin' him off right now. +When Yankie finds out what he's been sayin' he'll do the trick for me." + +"You're right he will. Good job, too. I hate a sneak like I do a +side-winder." Reb turned to his prisoner. "Git a move on you, Roush. +I want this job over with. I'm no coyote herder." + + + + +Chapter XXXIII + +The Round-Up + + +Dumont had been on the grill for three hours. He had taken refuge in +dogged silence. He had been badgered into lies. He had broken down at +last and told the truth. Sheriff Billie Prince, keen as a hound on the +scent, persistent as a bulldog, peppered the man's defense with a +machine-gun fire of questions. Back of these loomed the shadow of a +long term in the penitentiary. + +For Dumont had been caught with his iron hot. The acrid smell of burnt +flesh was still in the air when an angry cattleman and two of his riders +came on the man and the rustled calf. Fortunately for the thief the +sheriff happened to be in the neighborhood. He had rescued the captured +waddy from the hands of the incensed ranchers and brought him straight to +Live-Oaks. + +The rustler was frightened. There had been a bad quarter of an hour when +it looked as though he might be the central figure in a lynching. Even +after this danger had been weathered, the outlook was full of gloom. He +had to choose between a long prison sentence and the betrayal of his +comrades. Dumont had no iron in his blood. He dodged and evaded and +bluffed--and at last threw up his hands. If the sheriff would protect him +from the vengeance of the gang, he would give any information wanted +or do anything he was told to do. + +The arrival of Reb and his prisoner interrupted the quiz. Prince had +Dumont returned to his cell and took up the new business of Roush and his +story. The sheriff knew he would be blamed for the escape of Clanton and +he thought it wise to have the whole matter opened up before witnesses. +Wallace Snaith and Dad Wrayburn both happened to be in town and Billie +sent the boss mule-skinner to bring them. To these men he turned over the +examination of Roush. + +They wrung from him, a scrap at a time, the story Yankie had told his +confederates at the camp-fire. A statement of the facts was drawn up +and signed by Roush under protest. It was witnessed by the four men +present. + +Devil Dave was locked up and Dumont brought back to the office of the +sheriff. Taken by surprise at the new form of the questionnaire, already +broken in spirit and therefore eager to conciliate these powerful +citizens, the rustler at once corroborated the story of Roush. He, too, +signed a statement drawn up by Prince. + +"Just shows, doggone it, how a man can be too blamed sure," commented +Wrayburn. "I'd 'a' bet my life Go-Get-'Em Jim killed Webb. But he +didn't. It's plain enough now. After his rookus with the old man, Yankie +must have got a seventy-three an' waited in the chaparral. It just +happened he was lyin' hid close to where we met Clanton. It beats the +Dutch." + +"An' if Jim hadn't escaped he'd have been hanged for killin' Webb." + +"That's right, sheriff. On my testimony, too. Say, let me go to the +Governor with these papers an' git the pardon. I'd like to give it to the +boy myself, jest to show him there's no hard feelin's," urged Wrayburn. + +"That's all right, Dad. I'm goin' to be right busy this next week, I +shouldn't wonder. I've got business up in the hills." + +"If you're goin' on a round-up, I hope you make a good gather, Prince," +said Snaith, smiling. + +Not in the history of Washington County had there been another such a +round-up as this one of which Sheriff Prince was the boss. He made his +plans swiftly and thoroughly. His posses were to sweep the country +between Saco de Oro Creek and Caballero Cañon. Every gap was to be +stopped, every exit guarded. Dumont, much against his will, rode beside +the sheriff as guide. Goodheart had charge of the first party that went +out. His duty was to swing round and close the gulches to the north. Here +he would wait until the hunted men were driven into the trap he had set. +Old Reb, with a second posse, started next morning for the head-waters +of Seven-Mile Creek. An hour later the sheriff himself took the road. He +left town sooner than he had intended because Roush had escaped during +the night and was probably on his way into the hills to warn the +rustlers. + +Get them in a talkative mood and old-timers who took part in it will +still tell the story of that man-drive in the mountains. Riders combed +the draws and the buttes, eyes and ears alert for those who might lie +hidden on the rim rocks or in the cactus. It was grim business. Driven +out of their holes, the rustlers fought savagely. One, trapped in a hill +pocket, stood off a posse till he was shot to death. A second was +wounded, captured, and sent back with two other suspects to Live-Oaks. +At the end of a week Prince had the remnant of the band surrounded in a +mountain park close to Caballero Cañon. + +The country into which the outlaws had been driven was an ideal terrain +for defense. The brush was thick and tall. Two wooded arroyos gashed the +rim of the valley and ran down into the basin. An attack against +determined men here was bound to prove costly. + +Billie knew that three men lay in the chaparral and he believed that one +of them at least was wounded. Old Reb had jumped them up from a fireless +camp, and in their hurry to escape the outlaws had left all their +provisions and two of their horses. They left, too, one of the posse with +a bullet hole in his forehead. The sheriff's plan was to tighten the +lines gradually and starve out the rustlers. + +But though Prince would not let his men advance to a general assault, he +made up his mind to find out more as to the condition of the men he had +surrounded. He wanted to make sure they had not slipped past his guards +into Caballero Cañon. In the back of his head, too, was the feeling that +if he could get into touch with them, perhaps he might arrange for a +surrender. + +He called Goodheart to one side. "As soon as it's dark I'm goin' in to +find out what's doin'. We haven't heard a murmur from these birds for +hours. Perhaps they've flown. Anyhow, I'm goin' to find out." + +"How many of us are goin'?" + +"Just one of us--Billie Prince." + +"If two of us went--" + +"It would double the chances of discovery. No, I'm goin' alone. Maybe I +can have a talk with Albeen or Yankie. I don't want to take 'em dead, but +alive." + +"They'll probably get you while you're in there, Prince." + +"I don't think it. But if I'm not back by mornin' you are in charge of +this hunt. Use yore judgment." + +The deputy ventured one more protest, but his chief vetoed it. Billie had +decided what to do and argument did not touch him. + +He did not take a rifle. In the thick brush it would be hard to handle +noiselessly and the snapping of a twig might mean the difference between +life and death. The sheriff slipped into the tangle of cat-claw, prickly +pear, and mesquite, vanishing into the gloom from the sight of Goodheart. + +On the back of an envelope Dumont had drawn for him a rough map of the +valley. It showed that the wooded arroyos ran together like the spokes of +a wheel. The judgment of Prince was that he must look for the men he +wanted close to the angle of intersection. Up one or the other of these +draws it was likely they would make their dash for freedom, since +otherwise they would have to emerge into the open. Therefore, they would +hold the base of the V in order not to be cut off from the chance of +getting out of the trap. + +The sheriff snaked forward, most of the time on his stomach or on hands +and knees, for what seemed an interminable period. Each least movement +had to be planned and executed with precision. He dared not risk the +cracking of a dead branch or the rustle of dry foliage. As silently as +an Apache he wriggled through the grass. + +Billie became aware of a sound to the left. He listened. It presently +defined itself as a wheezing rattle halfway between a cough and a groan. + +Toward it Prince deflected. He knew himself to be now in the acute danger +zone, and he increased if possible his precautions. The moaning continued +intermittently. Billie wondered why, if this were the camp of the +outlaws, no other sound broke the stillness. Closer, inch by inch, making +the most of every bunch of yucca and cholla, the officer slowly crept. + +The figure of a man lay in the sand, the head resting on a folded +slicker. From time to time it moved slightly, and always the restlessness +was accompanied by the little throat rattle that had first attracted the +attention of the sheriff. The face, lying full in the moonlight, was of a +ghastly pallor. + +Prince lay crouched behind a piñon till he was sure the man was alone. It +was possible that his confederates might return at any moment, but Billie +could not let him suffer without aid. He stepped forward, revolver in +hand, every sense ready for instant response. + +The wounded man was Joe Yankie. The experienced eyes of Prince told him +that the rustler had not long to live. He was already in that twilight +region which is the border land between the known and the unknown. Billie +spoke his name, and for a moment the eyes of the man cleared. + +"Yore boys got me when they jumped our camp," he explained feebly. + +"Sorry, Joe. You were firin' when they hit you." + +The wounded man nodded. "'S all right. Streak o' bad luck. Gimme water. +I'm on fire," The officer unbuckled his canteen, lifted the head of the +dying man, and let the water trickle down his throat. Gently he lowered +the head again to the pillow. + +Then he asked a question. "Where are Albeen and--Roush?" + +The last name was a shot in the dark, but it hit the bull's eye. + +"Left--hours ago," + +Yankie closed his eyes wearily, but by sheer strength of will Prince +recalled him from the doze into which he was slipping. + +"Did you kill Homer Webb?" + +"Yes." + +"Had Clanton anything to do with it?" + +"No." + +A film gathered over the eyes of the dying man. The lids closed. Billie +adjusted the pillow a little more comfortably and rose. He could do no +more for him at present and he must set about his work. For though the +net of the round-up had gathered hundreds of stolen cattle and most of +those engaged in the business of brand-blotting, Prince knew his job +would not be finished if Roush and Albeen escaped. + +He quartered over the ground foot by foot. The camp of the rustlers had +been here and the footsteps showed there had been three. Yankie was +accounted for. That left Roush and Albeen. The sheriff discovered the +place where they had been sleeping. + +His eyes lit with the eagerness of the hunter who has come on the spoor. +He had found two sets of tracks leading from the bed-ground. One of these +showed no heel marks and the deep impress of toes in the soft sand. The +other presented a more sharply defined print with a greater distance +between the steps. They told Billie a story of a man tiptoeing away in +breathless silence, and of another man, wakened by some sound or by some +premonition, pursuing him in reckless haste. + +The imagination of the trailer built up a web of cause and effect. Two +men, with only one horse, were caught in a trap from which both were in a +desperate hurry to escape. Each, no doubt, was filled with suspicion of +the other while they waited for darkness to fall that they might try to +slip through the cordon of watchers. One of the at least, was unknown. If +he could make a get-away, _and leave no witness behind_, there would be +no proof positive that he was one of the rustlers. The situation was ripe +for tragedy. + +In the back of the sheriff's mind rose thoughts of something sinister +that had happened in the early hours of darkness. A chill ran down his +spine. He expected presently to stumble across something cold and chill +that only a little while ago had been warm with life. + +Prince recognized a weakness in his theory. If Roush was the man who had +tiptoed toward the horse in the pines, why had he not made sure first +by shooting Albeen while he slept? There was no absolute answer to that. +But it might be that the one-armed man had been dozing lightly and that +Roush had not the nerve to take a chance. For if his first shot failed to +kill, the betrayed man could still drop him. + +The trailer had no doubt in his mind that Roush was the man who had tried +to slip away to the horse. Albeen was a gun-fighter, quick on the shoot, +hasty of temper, but with the reputation of being both game and stanch. +It would not be in character for him to leave a companion in the lurch. + +In the scrub pines at the foot of the arroyo Prince found the place where +a horse had been tied. The footprints had diverged sharply toward a +duster of big boulders that rose in the grove. Billie did not at once +follow them. He wanted to make sure of another point first. + +Every sense alert against a possible surprise, he studied the ground +around the spot where the bronco had been fastened. One set of tracks +came straight from the big rocks to the hitching tree. Here all tracks +ended, except those of a galloping horse and the ones made by the man who +had originally left the animal here. + +One man had gone up the arroyo to slip through or to fight his way out of +the trap. The other man had stayed here. The officer knew what he would +find lying among the big rocks. + +The body lay face down, a revolver close to the still hand. Three +chambers of it had been fired. Prince turned over the heavy torso and +looked into the contorted face of Dave Roush. + +The man had fallen a victim to his own treachery. + + + + +Chapter XXXIV + +Primrose Paths + + +When Billie Prince had finished the job that had been given him to do, he +went back quietly to Live-Oaks without knowing that he had led the last +campaign of a revolution in the social life of Washington County. Because +a strong, determined man had carried law into the mesquite, citizens +could henceforth go about their business without fear or dread. + +The rule of the "bad man" was over. Revolvers were no longer a part of +the necessary wearing apparel of gentlemen of spirit. Life became safe +and humdrum. The frontier world gave itself to ploughing fields and +building fences and digging irrigation ditches and planting orchards. As +a corollary it married and reared children and built little red +schoolhouses. + +But before all this came to pass some details had to be arranged in the +lives of certain young people of the country. In one instance, at least, +Lee Snaith appointed herself adjuster in behalf of Cupid. + +Goodheart reached town a few hours earlier than his chief. Lee met him +just before supper in front of the court-house. + +"Where's Billie?" she asked with characteristic directness. + +"He's on his way back. A wounded man couldn't be moved an' he had to stay +with him a while. The man was Joe Yankie. A messenger just got in to say +he died." + +"Billie isn't wounded?" + +"No. Not his fault, though. When we had the rustlers cornered, he crawled +in through the brush to their camp. Fool business, I told him. Never saw +anything gamer. Lucky for him Albeen had made his get-away." + +The eyes of the girl thanked the deputy for this indirect praise. Little +patches of red burned in her dusky cheeks. The way to make a life friend +of her was to be fond of Billie. + +Lee changed the subject abruptly. "Jack, you haven't half the sense I +thought you had." + +"Much obliged," he answered sardonically. She was looking straight at him +and he knew what was in her mind. + +"If I was a man--and if the nicest girl in the world was in love with +me--I'd try not to be as stiff as a poker." + +"I'm as stiff as a poker, am I?" + +"Yes." The dark eyes of the young woman were eager pools of light. "She's +the truest-hearted girl I ever saw--the best friend, the loyalest +comrade. I should think you'd be ashamed to set yourself up to judge +her." + +"Of course, you're not settin' yourself up to judge _me_, Lee?" + +"I'm going to tell you what I think. The others are afraid of you because +you can put on that high-and-mighty, stand-offish air. Well, I'm not." + +"I see you're not." + +"She told me all about it. Since she was Polly Roubideau she had to help +Jim escape. Can't you see that? She knew he was innocent, and it turned +out she was right. Suppose she made a mistake--and I don't admit it for a +minute. Can't you make allowance for other folks' judgment being +different from yours? Are you never wrong yourself?" + +"It isn't a question of judgment." + +He hesitated and decided to say no more. How could he tell Lee that +Pauline had deliberately misled him to give Clanton a better chance of +escape? He had fought it out a hundred times in his mind, but he could +not escape the conviction that she had made a tool of his love. + +The girl went to the heart of the matter. "Polly loves you, and she is +breaking her heart because of your wretched pride. If you don't go +straight to her and beg her pardon for your want of faith in her, you're +not half the man I think you are, Jack Goodheart." + +A warm glow of hope flushed through his blood. + +"How do you know she loves me?" + +"Because--because--" Lee stopped. She did not intend to betray any +confidences. "I know it. That's enough." + +He threw away impulsively the prudent pride that he had been nourishing. +"Where can I find Polly?" + +"You're being invited to supper at my aunt's this evening. I'll not be +home for half an hour, but if you go right up, maybe you can find some +one to entertain you." + +He buried her little hand in his big paw and strode away. She watched +him, a soft tenderness shining in her eyes. Lee was a lover herself, and +she wanted everybody in the world to be as happy as she was. + +Two horsemen rode down the street toward her. She looked up. One of them +was Billie Prince, the other Jim Clanton. + +The younger man gave a shout of gay greeting. "Yip-ee yippy yip." He +leaned from the cowpony and gave her his gloved hand. "I've brought him +back to you. He sure did make a good clean-up. I'm the only bad man left +in Washington County." + +She met his impudent little smile with friendly eyes. "Dad Wrayburn's +back from Santa Fe with the pardon, Jim. I'm so glad." + +"I'm some glad myself. Do you want me to shut my eyes whilst you an' +Billie--" + +The sheriff knocked the rest of the sentence out of him with a vigorous +thump on the back. + +While Lee and her lover shook hands their eyes held fast to each other. + +"Good to see you, Billie," she said. + +"Same here, Lee." + +"When you and Jim have put up your horses I want you to come up to aunt's +for supper." + +"We'll be there." + +It was not a very gay little supper. Pauline and Jack Goodheart had very +little to say for themselves, but in their eyes were bright pools of +happiness. Clanton sustained the burden of the talk, assisted in a +desultory fashion by Lee and Billie. But there was so much quiet joy at +the table that for years the hour was one fenced off from all the others +of their lives. Even Jim, who for the first time felt himself almost an +outsider, since he did not belong to the close communion of lovers, could +find plenty for which to be thankful. + +He made an announcement before he left. "There's no room here for me now +that you lads are marryin' all my girls. I'm goin' to hit the trail. It's +Texas for me. I've got a letter in my pocket offerin' me a job as a +Ranger an' I'm goin' to take it." + +They shook hands with him in warm congratulation. Their friend was no +longer a killer. He had definitely turned his back on lawlessness and +would henceforth walk with the law. The problem of what was to become of +Go-Get-'Em Jim was solved. + +As to the problem of their own futures, that did not disturb these happy +egoists in the least. Life beckoned them to primrose paths. It is the +good fortune of lovers that their vision never pierces the shadows in +which lie the sorrows of the years and the griefs that wear them gray. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Man Four-Square, by William MacLeod Raine + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14171 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9207d50 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #14171 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14171) diff --git a/old/14171-8.txt b/old/14171-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..38f29d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14171-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8901 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Man Four-Square, by William MacLeod Raine + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Man Four-Square + +Author: William MacLeod Raine + +Release Date: November 26, 2004 [EBook #14171] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN FOUR-SQUARE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + A Man Four-Square + + BY WILLIAM MAC LEOD RAINE + + AUTHOR OF THE YUKON TRAIL, BUCKY O'CONNOR, STEVE YEAGER, WYOMING, ETC. + + 1919 + + + + +Contents + + +PROLOGUE + + I. "CALL ME JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM" + II. SHOOT-A-BUCK CAÑON + III. RANSE ROUSH PAYS + IV. PAULINE ROUBIDEAU SAYS "THANK YOU" + V. NO FOUR-FLUSHER + VI. BILLIE ASKS A QUESTION + VII. ON THE TRAIL + VIII. THE FIGHT + IX. BILLIE STANDS PAT + X. BUD PROCTOR LENDS A HAND + XI. THE FUGITIVES + XII. THE GOOD SAMARITAN + XIII. A FRIENDLY ENEMY + XIV. THE GUN-BARREL ROAD + XV. LEE PLAYS A LEADING RÔLE + XVI. THREE MODERN MUSKETEERS + XVII. "PEG-LEG" WARREN + XVIII. A STAMPEDE + XIX. A TWO-GUN MAN + XX. EXIT MYSTERIOUS PETE + XXI. JIM RECEIVES AND DECLINES AN OFFER + XXII. THE RUSTLERS' CAMP + XXIII. MURDER FROM THE CHAPARRAL + XXIV. JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM LEAVES A NOTE + XXV. THE MAL-PAIS + XXVI. A DUST-STORM + XXVII. "A LUCKY GUY" +XXVIII. SHERIFF PRINCE FUNCTIONS + XXIX. "THEY CAN'T HANG ME IF I AIN'T THERE" + XXX. POLLY HAS A PLAN + XXXI. GOODHEART MAKES A PROMISE AND BREAKS IT + XXXII. JIM TAKES A PRISONER +XXXIII. THE ROUND-UP + XXXIV. PRIMROSE PATHS + + + + +A Man Four-Square + + + + +Prologue + + +A girl sat on the mossy river-bank in the dappled, golden sunlight. +Frowning eyes fixed on a sweeping eddy, she watched without seeing the +racing current. Her slim, supple body, crouched and tense, was +motionless, but her soul seethed tumultuously. In the bosom of her coarse +linsey gown lay hidden a note. Through it destiny called her to the +tragic hour of decision. + +The foliage of the young pawpaws stirred behind her. Furtively a pair of +black eyes peered forth and searched the opposite bank of the stream, the +thicket of rhododendrons above, the blooming laurels below. Very +stealthily a handsome head pushed out through the leaves. + +"'Lindy," a voice whispered. + +The girl gave a start, slowly turned her head. She looked at the owner of +the voice from steady, deep-lidded eyes. The pulse in her brown throat +began to beat. One might have guessed her with entire justice a sullen +lass, untutored of life, passionate, and high-spirited, resentful of all +restraint. Hers was such beauty as lies in rich blood beneath dark +coloring, in dusky hair and eyes, in the soft, warm contours of youth. +Already she was slenderly full, an elemental daughter of Eve, primitive +as one of her fur-clad ancestors. No forest fawn could have been more +sensuous or innocent than she. + +Again the man's glance swept the landscape cautiously before he moved out +from cover. In the country of the Clantons there was always an open +season on any one of his name. + +"What are you doin' here, Dave Roush?" the girl demanded. "Are you +crazy?" + +"I'm here because you are, 'Lindy Clanton," he answered promptly. "That's +a right good reason, ain't it?" + +The pink splashed into her cheeks like spilled wine. + +"You'd better go. If dad saw you--" + +He laughed hardily. "There'd be one less Roush--or one less Clanton," he +finished for her. + +Dave Roush was a large, well-shouldered man, impressive in spite of his +homespun. If he carried himself with a swagger there was no lack of +boldness in him to back it. His long hair was straight and black and +coarse, a derivative from the Indian strain in his blood. + +"Git my note?" he asked. + +She nodded sullenly. + +'Lindy had met Dave Roush at a dance up on Lonesome where she had no +business to be. At the time she had been visiting a distant cousin in a +cove adjacent to that creek. Some craving for adventure, some instinct of +defiance, had taken her to the frolic where she knew the Roush clan would +be in force. From the first sight of her Dave had wooed her with a +careless bravado that piqued her pride and intrigued her interest. The +girl's imagination translated in terms of romance his insolence and +audacity. Into her starved existence he brought color and emotion. + +Did she love him? 'Lindy was not sure. He moved her at times to furious +anger, and again to inarticulate longings she did not understand. For +though she was heritor of a life full-blooded and undisciplined, every +fiber of her was clean and pure. There were hours when she hated him, +glimpsed in him points of view that filled her with vague distrust. But +always he attracted her tremendously. + +"You're goin' with me, gal," he urged. + +Close to her hand was a little clump of forget-me-nots which had pushed +through the moss. 'Lindy feigned to be busy picking the blossoms. + +"No," she answered sulkily. + +"Yes. To-night--at eleven o'clock, 'Lindy,--under the big laurel." + +While she resented his assurance, it none the less coerced her. She did +not want a lover who groveled in the dust before her. She wanted one to +sweep her from her feet, a young Lochinvar to compel her by the force of +his personality. + +"I'll not be there," she told him. + +"We'll git right across the river an' be married inside of an hour." + +"I tell you I'm not goin' with you. Quit pesterin' me." + +His devil-may-care laugh trod on the heels of her refusal. He guessed +shrewdly that circumstances were driving her to him. The girl was full of +resentment at her father's harsh treatment of her. Her starved heart +craved love. She was daughter of that Clanton who led the feud against +the Roush family and its adherents. Dave took his life in his hands every +time he crossed the river to meet her. Once he had swum the stream in the +night to keep an appointment. He knew that his wildness, his reckless +courage and contempt of danger, argued potently for him. She was coming +to him as reluctantly and surely as a wild turkey answers the call of the +hunter. + +The sound of a shot, not distant, startled them. He crouched, wary as a +rattlesnake about to strike. The rifle seemed almost to leap forward. + +"Hit's Bud--my brother Jimmie." She pushed him back toward the pawpaws. +"Quick! Burn the wind!" + +"What about to-night? Will you come?" + +"Hurry. I tell you hit's Bud. Are you lookin' for trouble?" + +He stopped stubbornly at the edge of the thicket. "I ain't runnin' away +from it. I put a question to ye. When I git my answer mebbe I'll go. But +I don't 'low to leave till then." + +"I'll meet ye there if I kin git out. Now go," she begged. + +The man vanished in the pawpaws. He moved as silently as one of his +Indian ancestors. + +'Lindy waited, breathless lest her brother should catch sight of him. She +knew that if Jimmie saw Roush there would be shooting and one or the +other would fall. + +A rifle shot rang out scarce a hundred yards from her. The heart of the +girl stood still. After what seemed an interminable time there came to +her the sound of a care-free whistle. Presently her brother sauntered +into view, a dead squirrel in his hand. The tails of several others +bulged from the game bag by his side. The sister did not need to be told +that four out of five had been shot through the head. + +"Thought I heard voices. Was some one with you, sis?" the boy asked. + +"Who'd be with me here?" she countered lazily. + +A second time she was finding refuge in the for-get-me-nots. + +He was a barefoot little fellow, slim and hard as a nail. In his hand he +carried an old-fashioned rifle almost as long as himself. There was a +lingering look of childishness in his tanned, boyish face. His hands and +feet were small and shapely as those of a girl. About him hung the stolid +imperturbability of the Southern mountaineer. Times were when his blue +eyes melted to tenderness or mirth; yet again the cunning of the jungle +narrowed them to slits hard, as jade. Already, at the age of fourteen, he +had been shot at from ambush, had wounded a Roush at long range, had +taken part in a pitched battle. The law of the feud was tempering his +heart to implacability. + +The keen gaze of the boy rested on her. Ever since word had reached the +Clantons of how 'Lindy had "carried on" with Dave Roush at the dance on +Lonesome her people had watched her suspiciously. The thing she had done +had been a violation of the hill code and old Clay Clanton had thrashed +her with a cowhide till she begged for mercy. Jimmie had come home from +the still to find her writhing in passionate revolt. The boy had been +furious at his father; yet had admitted the substantial justice of the +punishment. Its wisdom he doubted. For he knew his sister to be stubborn +as old Clay himself, and he feared lest they drive her to the arms of Bad +Dave Roush. + +"I reckon you was talkin' to yo'self, mebbe," he suggested. + +"I reckon." + +They walked home together along a path through the rhododendrons. The +long, slender legs of the girl moved rhythmically and her arms swung like +pendulums. Life in the open had given her the litheness and the grace of +a woodland creature. The mountain woman is cheated of her youth almost +before she has learned to enjoy it. But 'Lindy was still under eighteen. +Her warm vitality still denied the coming of a day when she would be a +sallow, angular snuff-chewer. + +Within sight of the log cabin the girl lingered for a moment by the +sassafras bushes near the spring. Some deep craving for sympathy moved +her to alien speech. She turned upon him with an imperious, fierce +tenderness in her eyes. + +"You'll never forgit me, Bud? No matter what happens, you'll--you'll not +hate me?" + +Her unusual emotion embarrassed and a little alarmed him. "Oh, shucks! +They ain't anything goin' to happen, sis. What's ailin' you?" + +"But if anything does. You'll not hate me--you'll remember I allus +thought a heap of you, Jimmie?" she insisted. + +"Doggone it, if you're still thinkin' of that scalawag Dave Roush--" He +broke off, moved by some touch of prescient tragedy in her young face. +"'Course I ain't ever a-goin' to forgit you none, sis. Hit ain't likely, +is it?" + +It was a comfort to him afterward to recall that he submitted to her +impulsive caress without any visible irritability. + +'Lindy busied herself preparing supper for her father and brother. Ever +since her mother died when the child was eleven she had been the family +housekeeper. + +At dusk Clay Clanton came in and stood his rifle in a corner of the room. +His daughter recognized ill-humor in the grim eyes of the old man. He was +of a tall, gaunt figure, strongly built, a notable fighter with his fists +in the brawling days before he "got religion" at a camp meeting. Now his +Calvinism was of the sternest. Dancing he held to be of the devil. +Card-playing was a sin. If he still drank freely, his drinking was within +bounds. But he did not let his piety interfere with the feud. Within the +year, pillar of the church though he was, he had been carried home +riddled with bullets. Of the four men who had waylaid him two had been +buried next day and a third had kept his bed for months. + +He ate for a time in dour silence before he turned harshly on 'Lindy. + +"You ain't havin' no truck with Dave Roush are you? Not meetin' up with +him on the sly?" he demanded, his deep-set eyes full of menace under the +heavy, grizzled brows. + +"No, I ain't," retorted the girl, and her voice was sullen and defiant. + +"See you don't, lessen yo' want me to tickle yore back with the bud +again. I don't allow to put up with no foolishness." He turned in +explanation to the boy. "Brad Nickson seen him this side of the river +to-day. He says this ain't the fustest time Roush has been seen hangin' +'round the cove." + +The boy's wooden face betrayed nothing. He did not look at his sister. +But suspicions began to troop through his mind. He thought again of the +voices he had heard by the river and he remembered that it had become a +habit of the girl to disappear for hours in the afternoon. + +'Lindy went to her room early. She nursed against her father not only +resentment, but a strong feeling of injustice. He would not let her +attend the frolics of the neighborhood because of his scruples against +dancing. Yet she had heard him tell how he used to dance till daybreak +when he was a young man. What right had he to cut her off from the things +that made life tolerable? + +She was the heritor of lawless, self-willed, passionate ancestors. Their +turbulent blood beat in her veins. All the safeguards that should have +hedged her were gone. A wise mother, an understanding father, could have +saved her from the tragedy waiting to engulf her. But she had neither of +these. Instead, her father's inhibitions pushed her toward that doom to +which she was moving blindfold. + +Before her cracked mirror the girl dressed herself bravely in her cheap +best. She had no joy in the thing she was going to do. Of her love she +was not sure and of her lover very unsure. A bell of warning rang faintly +in her heart as she waited for the hours to slip away. + +A very little would have turned the tide. But she nursed her anger +against her father, fed her resentment with the memory of all his wrongs +to her. When at last she crept through the window to the dark porch +trellised with wild cucumbers, she persuaded herself that she was going +only to tell Dave Roush that she would not join him. + +Her heart beat fast with excitement and dread. Poor, undisciplined +daughter of the hills though she was, a rumor of the future whispered in +her ears and weighted her bosom. + +Quietly she stole past the sassafras brake to the big laurel. Her lover +took her instantly into his arms and kissed the soft mouth again and +again. She tried to put him from her, to protest that she was not going +with him. But before his ardor her resolution melted. As always, when he +was with her, his influence was paramount. + +"The boat is under that clump of bushes," he whispered. + +"Oh, Dave, I'm not goin'," she murmured. + +"Then I'll go straight to the house an' have it out with the old man," he +answered. + +His voice rang gay with the triumph of victory. He did not intend to let +her hesitations rob him of it. + +"Some other night," she promised. "Not now--I don't want to go now. +I--I'm not ready." + +"There's no time like to-night, honey. My brother came with me in the +boat. We've got horses waitin'--an' the preacher came ten miles to do the +job." + +Then, with the wisdom born of many flirtations, he dropped argument and +wooed her ardently. The anchors that held the girl to safety dragged. The +tug of sex, her desire of love and ignorance of life, his eager and +passionate demand that she trust him: all these swelled the tide that +beat against her prudence. + +She caught his coat lapels tightly in her clenched fists. + +"If I go I'll be givin' up everything in the world for you, Dave +Roush. My folks'll hate me. They'd never speak to me again. You'll +be good to me. You won't cast it up to me that I ran away with you. +You'll--you'll--" Her voice broke and she gulped down a little sob. + +He laughed. She could not see his face in the darkness, but the sound of +his laughter was not reassuring. He should have met her appeal seriously. + +The girl drew back. + +He sensed at once his mistake. "Good to you!" he cried. "'Lindy, I'm +a-goin' to be the best ever." + +"I ain't got any mother, Dave." Again she choked in her throat. "You +wouldn't take advantage of me, would you?" + +He protested hotly. Desiring only to be convinced, 'Lindy took one last +precaution. + +"Swear you'll do right by me always." + +He swore it. + +She put her hand in his and he led her to the boat. + +Ranse Roush was at the oars. Before he had taken a dozen strokes a wave +of terror swept over her. She was leaving behind forever that quiet, +sunny cove where she had been brought up. The girl began to shiver +against the arm of her lover. She heard again the sound of his low, +triumphant laughter. + +It was too late to turn back now. No hysterical request to be put back on +her side of the river would move these men. Instinctively she knew that. +From to-night she was to be a Roush. + +They found horses tied to saplings in a small cove close to the river. +The party mounted and rode into the hills. Except for the ring of the +horses' hoofs there was no sound for miles. 'Lindy was the first to +speak. + +"Ain't this Quicksand Creek?" she asked of her lover as they forded a +stream. + +He nodded. "The sands are right below us--not more'n seven or eight steps +down here Cal Henson was sucked under." + +After another stretch ridden in silence they turned up a little cove to a +light shining in a cabin window. The brothers alighted and Dave helped +the girl down. He pushed open the door and led the way inside. + +A man sat by the fireside with his feet on the table. He was reading a +newspaper. A jug of whiskey and a glass were within reach of his hand. +Without troubling to remove his boots from the table, he looked up with a +leer at the trembling girl. + +Dave spoke at once. "We'll git it over with. The sooner the quicker." + +'Lindy's heart was drenched with dread. She shrank from the three pairs +of eyes focused upon her as if they had belonged to wolves. She had hoped +that the preacher might prove a benevolent old man, but this man with the +heavy thatch of unkempt, red hair and furtive eyes set askew offered no +comfort. If there had been a single friend of her family present, if +there had been any woman at all! If she could even be sure of the man she +was about to marry! + +It seemed to her that the preacher was sneering when he put the questions +to which she answered quaveringly. Vaguely she felt the presence of some +cruel, sinister jest of which she was the sport. + +After the ceremony had been finished the three men drank together while +she sat white-faced before the fire. When at last Ranse Roush and the +red-headed preacher left the cabin, both of them were under the influence +of liquor. Dave had drunk freely himself. + +'Lindy would have given her hopes of heaven to be back safely in the +little mud-daubed bedroom she had called her own. + +Three days later 'Lindy wakened to find a broad ribbon of sunshine across +the floor of the cabin. Her husband had not come home at all the night +before. She shivered with self-pity and dressed slowly. Already she knew +that her life had gone to wreck, that it would be impossible to live with +Dave Roush and hold her self-respect. + +But she had cut herself off from retreat. All of her friends belonged to +the Clanton faction and they would not want to have anything to do with +her. She had no home now but this, no refuge against the neglect and +insults of this man with whom she had elected to go through life. To her +mind came the verdict of old Nance Cunningham on the imprudent marriage +of another girl: "Randy's done made her bed; I reckon she's got to lie +on it." + +A voice hailed the cabin from outside. She went to the door. Ranse Roush +and the red-haired preacher had ridden into the clearing and were +dismounting. They had with them a led horse. + +"Fix up some breakfast," ordered Ranse. + +The young wife flushed. She resented his tone and his manner. Like Dave, +he too assumed that she had come to be a drudge for the whole drunken +clan, a creature to be sneered at and despised. + +Silently she cooked a meal for the men. The girl was past tears. She had +wept herself out. + +While they ate the men told of her father's fury when he had discovered +the elopement, of how he had gone down to the mill and cast her off with +a father's curse, renouncing all relationship with her forever. It was a +jest that held for them a great savor. They made sport of him and of the +other Clantons till she could keep still no longer. + +"I won't stand this! I don't have to! Where's Dave?" she demanded, eyes +flashing with contempt and anger. + +Ranse grinned, then turned to his companion with simulated perplexity. +"Where is Dave, Brother Hugh?" + +"Damfino," replied the red-headed man, and the girl could see that he was +gloating over her. "Last night he was at a dance on God Forgotten Crick. +Dave's soft on a widow up there, you know." + +The color ebbed from the face of the wife. One of her hands clutched at +the back of a chair till the knuckles stood out white and bloodless. Her +eyes fastened with a growing horror upon those of the red-headed man. She +had come to the edge of an awful discovery. + +"You're no preacher. Who are you?" + +"Me?" His smile was cruel as death. "You done guessed it, sister. I'm +Hugh Roush--Dave's brother." + +"An'--an'--my marriage was all a lie?" + +"Did ye think Dave Roush would marry a Clanton? He's a bad lot, Dave is, +but he ain't come that low yet." + +For the first and last time in her life 'Lindy fainted. + +Presently she floated back to consciousness and the despair of a soul +mortally stricken. She saw it all now. The lies of Dave Roush had enticed +her into a trap. He had been working for revenge against the family he +hated, especially against brave old Clay Clanton who had killed two of +his kin within the year. With the craft inherited from savage ancestors +he had sent a wound more deadly than any rifle bullet could carry. The +Clantons were proud folks, and he had dragged their pride in the mud. + +If the two brothers expected her to make a scene, they were disappointed. +Numb with the shock of the blow, she made no outcry and no reproach. + +"Git a move on ye, gal," ordered Ranse after he had finished eating. +"You're goin' with us, so you better hurry." + +"What are you goin' to do with me?" she asked dully. + +"Why, Dave don't want you any more. We're goin' to send you home." + +"I reckon yore folks will kill the fatted calf for you," jeered Hugh +Roush. "They tell me you always been mighty high-heeled, 'Lindy Clanton. +Mebbe you won't hold yore head so high now." + +The girl rode between them down from the hills. Who knows into what an +agony of fear and remorse and black despair she fell? She could not go +home a cast-off, a soiled creature to be scorned and pointed at. She +dared not meet her father. It would be impossible to look her little +brother Jimmie in the face. Would they believe the story she told? And if +they were convinced of its truth, what difference would that make? She +was what she was, no matter how she had become so. + +On the pike they met old Nance Cunningham returning from the mill with a +sack of meal. The story of that meeting was one the old gossip told after +the tragedy to many an eager circle of listeners, + +"She jes' lifted her han' an' stopped me, an' if death was ever writ on a +human face it shorely wuz stomped on hers. 'I want you to tell my father +I'm sorry,' she sez. 'He swore he'd marry me inside of an hour. This man +hyer--his brother--made out like he wuz a preacher an' married us. Tell +my father that an' ask him to forgive me if he can.' That wuz all she +said. Ranse Roush hit her horse with a switch an' sez, 'Yo' kin tell him +all that yore own self soon as you git home.' I reckon I wuz the lastest +person she spoke to alive." + +They left the old woman staring after them with her mouth open. It could +have been only a few minutes later that they reached Quicksand Creek. + +'Lindy pulled up her horse to let the men precede her through the ford. +They splashed into the shallows on the other side of the creek and waited +for her to join them. Instead, she slipped from the saddle, ran down the +bank, and plunged into the quicksand. + +"Goddlemighty!" shrieked Ranse. "She's a-drowndin' herself in the sands." + +They spurred their horses back across the creek and ran to rescue the +girl. But she had flung herself forward face down far out of their reach. +They dared not venture into the quivering bog after her. While they still +stared in a frozen horror, the tragedy was completed. The victim of their +revenge had disappeared beneath the surface of the morass. + + + + +Chapter I + +"Call Me Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em" + + +The boy had spent the night at a water-hole in a little draw near the +foot of the mesa. He had supped on cold rations and slept in his blanket +without the comfort of glowing piñon knots. For yesterday he had cut +Indian signs and after dark had seen the shadow of Apache camp-fires +reflected in the clouds. + +After eating he swung to the bare back of his pony and climbed to the +summit of the butte. His trained eyes searched the plains. A big bunch of +antelope was trailing down to water almost within rifle-shot. But he was +not looking for game. + +He sniffed the smoke from the pits where the renegades were roasting +mescal and judged the distance to the Apache camp at close to ten miles. +His gaze swept toward the sunrise horizon and rested upon a cloud of +dust. That probably meant a big herd of cattle crossing to the Pecos +Valley on the Chisum Trail that led to Fort Stanton. The riders were +likely just throwing the beeves from the bed-ground to the trail. The boy +waited to make sure of their line of travel. + +Presently he spoke aloud, after the fashion of the plainsman who spends +much time alone in the saddle. "Looks like they'll throw off to-night +close to the 'Pache camp. If they do hell's a-goin' to pop just before +sunup to-morrow. I reckon I'll ride over and warn the outfit." + +From a trapper the boy had learned that a band of Mescalero Apaches had +left the reservation three weeks before, crossed into Mexico, gone +plundering down the Pecos, and was now heading back toward the Staked +Plains. Evidently the drover did not know this, since he was moving his +cattle directly toward the Indian camp. + +The young fellow let his cowpony pick its way down the steep shale hill +to the draw. He saddled without a waste motion, packed his supplies +deftly, mounted, and was off. In the way he cut across the desert toward +the moving herd was the certainty of the frontiersman. He did not hurry, +but he wasted no time. His horse circled in and out among the sand dunes, +now topped a hill, now followed a wash. Every foot of the devious trail +was the most economical possible. + +At the end of nearly an hour's travel he pulled up, threw down his bridle +reins, and studied the ground carefully. He had cut Indian sign. What he +saw would have escaped the notice of a tenderfoot, and if it had been +pointed out to him none but an expert trailer would have understood its +significance. Yet certain facts were printed here on the desert for this +boy as plainly as if they had been stenciled on a guide-post. He knew +that within forty-eight hours a band of about twenty Mescalero bucks had +returned to camp this way from an antelope hunt and that they carried +with them half a dozen pronghorns. It was a safe guess that they were +part of the large camp the smoke of which he had seen. + +Long before the young man struck the drive, he knew he was close by the +cloud of dust and the bawling of the cattle. His course across country +had been so accurate that he hit the herd at the point without +deflecting. + +An old Texan drew up, changed his weight on the saddle to rest himself, +and hailed the youngster. + +"Goin' somewheres, kid, or just ridin'?" he asked genially. + +"Just takin' my hawss out for a jaunt so's he won't get hog-fat," grinned +the boy. + +The Texan chewed tobacco placidly and eyed the cowpony. The horse had +been ridden so far that he was a bag of bones. + +"Looks some gaunted," he commented. + +"Four Bits is so thin he won't throw a shadow," admitted the boy. + +"Come a right smart distance, I reckon?" + +"You done said it." + +"Where you headin' for?" + +"For Deaf Smith County. I got an uncle there. Saw your dust an' dropped +over to tell you that a big bunch of 'Paches are camped just ahead of +you." + +The older man looked at him keenly. "How do you know, son?" + +"Smelt their smoke an' cut their trail." + +"Know Injuns, do you?" + +"I trailed with Al Sieber 'most two years." + +To have served with Sieber for any length of time was a certificate of +efficiency. He was the ablest scout in the United States Army. Through +his skill and energy Geronimo and his war braves were later forced to +give themselves up to the troops. + +"'Nuff said. Are these 'Paches liable to make us any trouble?" + +"Yes, sir. I think they are. They're a bunch of broncos from the +reservation an' they have been across the line stealin' horses an' +murderin' settlers. They will sure try to stampede your cattle an' run +off a lot of 'em." + +"Hmp! You better go back an' see old man Webb about it. What's yore name, +kid?" + +For just an eye-beat the boy hesitated. "Call me Jim Thursday." + +A glimmer of a smile rested in the eyes of the Texan. He was willing to +bet that this young fellow would not have given him that name if to-day +had not happened to be the fifth day of the week. But it was all one to +the cowpuncher. To question a man too closely about his former residence +and manner of life was not good form on the frontier. + +"I'll call you Jim from Sunday to Saturday," he said, pulling a tobacco +pouch from his hip pocket. "My name is Wrayburn--Dad Wrayburn, the boys +call me." + +The Texan shouted to the man riding second on the swing. "Oh, you, Billie +Prince!" + +A tanned, good-looking young fellow cantered up. + +"Meet Jimmie Thursday, Billie," the old-timer said by way of +introduction. "This boy says there's heap many Injuns on the war-path +right ahead of us. I reckon I'll let you take the point while I ride +back with him an' put it up to the old man." + +The "old man" turned out to be a short, heavy-set Missourian who had +served in the Union Army and won a commission by intelligence and +courage. Wherever the name of Homer Webb was known it stood for integrity +and square-dealing. His word was as good as a signed bond. + +Webb had come out of the war without a cent, but with a very definite +purpose. During the last year of the Confederacy, while it was tottering +to its fall, he had served in Texas. The cattle on the range had for +years been running wild, the owners and herdsmen being absent with the +Southern army. They had multiplied prodigiously, so that many thousands +of mavericks roamed without brand, the property of any one who would +round them up and put an iron on their flanks. The money value of them +was very little. A standard price for a yearling was a plug of tobacco. +But Webb looked to the future. He hired two riders, gathered together a +small remuda of culls, and went into the cattle business with energy. +To-day the Flying V Y was stamped on forty thousand longhorns. + +The foreman of the Flying V Y was riding with the owner of the brand at +the drag end of the herd. He was a hard-faced citizen known as Joe +Yankie. When Wrayburn had finished his story, the foreman showed a row of +tobacco-stained teeth in an unpleasant grin. + +"Same old stuff, Dad. There always is a bunch of bucks off the +reservation an' they're always just goin' to run our cattle away. If you +ask me there's nothin' to it." + +Young Thursday flushed. "If you'll ride out with me I'll show you their +trail." + +Yankie looked at him with a sneer. He guessed this boy to be about +eighteen. There was a suggestion of effeminacy about the lad's small, +well-shaped hands and feet. He was a slender, smooth-faced youth with +mild blue eyes. It occurred to Webb, too, that the stranger might have +imagined the Apaches. But in his motions was something of the lithe grace +of the puma. It was part of the business of the cattleman to judge men +and he was not convinced that this young fellow was as inoffensive as he +looked. + +"Where you from?" asked the drover. + +"From the San Carlos Agency." + +"Ever meet a man named Micky Free out there?" + +"I've slept under the same tarp with him many's the time when we were +followin' Chiricahua 'Paches. He's the biggest dare-devil that ever +forked a horse." + +"Describe him." + +"Micky's face is a map of Ireland. He's got only one eye; a buck punched +the other out when he was a kid. His hair is red an' he wears it long." + +"Any beard?" + +"A bristly little red mustache." + +"That's Micky to a T." Webb made up his mind swiftly. "The boy's all +right, Yankie. He'll do to take along." + +"It's your outfit. Suits me if he does you." The foreman turned +insolently to the newcomer. "What'd you say your name was, sissie?" + +The eyes of the boy, behind narrowed lids, grew hard as steel. + +"Call me Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em," he drawled in a soft voice, every syllable +distinct. + +There was a moment of chill silence. A swift surprise had flared into the +eyes of the foreman. The last thing in the world he had expected was to +have his bad temper resented so promptly by this smooth-faced little +chap. Since Yankie was the camp bully he bristled up to protect his +reputation. + +"Better not get on the prod with me, young fellow me lad. I'm liable to +muss up your hair. Me, I'm from the Strip, where folks grow man-size." + +The youngster smiled, but there was no mirth in that thin-lipped smile. +He knew, as all men did, that the Cherokee Strip was the home of +desperadoes and man-killers. The refuse of the country, driven out by the +law of more settled communities, found here a refuge from punishment. But +if the announcement of the foreman impressed him, he gave no sign of it. + +"Why didn't you stay there?" he asked with bland innocence. + +Yankie grew apoplectic. He did not care to discuss the reasons why he +had first gone to the Strip or the reasons why he had come away. This +girl-faced boy was the only person who had asked for a bill of +particulars. Moreover, the foreman did not know whether the question had +been put in child-like ignorance of any possible offense or with an +impudent purpose to enrage him. + +"Don't run on the rope when I'm holdin' it, kid," he advised roughly. +"You're liable to get thrown hard." + +"And then again I'm liable not to," lisped the youth from Arizona gently. + +The bully looked the slim newcomer over again, and as he looked there +rang inside him some tocsin of warning. Thursday sat crouched in the +saddle, wary as a rattlesnake ready to strike. A sawed-off shotgun lay +under his leg within reach of his hand, the butt of a six-gun was even +closer to those smooth, girlish fingers. In the immobility of his figure +and the steadiness of the blue eyes was a deadly menace. + +Yankie was no coward. He would go through if he had to. But there was +still time to draw back if he chose. He was not exactly afraid; on the +other hand, he did not feel at all easy. + +He contrived a casual, careless laugh. "All right, kid. I don't have to +rob the cradle to fill my private graveyard. Go get your Injuns. It will +be all right with me." + +Webb drew a breath of relief. There was to be no gunplay after all. He +had had his own reasons for not interfering sooner, but he knew that the +situation had just grazed red tragedy. + +"I'm goin' to take the boy's advice," he announced to Yankie. "Ride +forward an' swing the herd toward that big red butte. We'll give our +Mescalero friends a wide berth if we can." + +The foreman hung in the saddle a moment before he turned to go. He had to +save his face from a public back-down, "Bet you a week's pay there's +nothin' to it, Webb." + +"Hope you're right, Joe," his employer answered. + +As soon as Yankie had cantered away, Dad Wrayburn, ex-Confederate +trooper, slapped his hand on his thigh and let out a modulated rebel +yell. + +"Dad burn my hide, Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em, you're all right. Fustest time I +ever saw Joe take water, but he shorely did splash some this here +occasion. I wouldn't 'a' missed it for a bunch of hog-fat yearlin's." + +Webb had not been sorry to see his arrogant foreman brought up with a +sharp turn, but in the interest of discipline he did not care to say so. + +"Why can't you boys get along peaceable with Joe, I'd like to know? This +snortin' an' pawin' up the ground don't get you anything." + +"I reckon Joe does most of the snortin' that's done," Wrayburn answered +dryly. "I ain't had any trouble with him, because he spends a heap of +time lettin' me alone. But there's no manner of doubt that Joe rides the +boys too hard." + +The drover dismissed the subject and turned to Thursday. + +"Want a job?" + +"Mebbe so." + +"I need another man. Since you sabe the ways of the 'Paches I can use you +to scout ahead for us." + +"What you payin'?" + +"Fifty a month." + +"You've hired a hand." + +"Good enough. Better pick one of the boys to ride with you while you are +out scoutin'." + +"I'll take Billie Prince," decided the new rider at once. + +"You know Billie?" + +"Never saw him before to-day. But I like his looks. He's a man to tie +to." + +"You're right he is." + +The drover looked at his new employee with a question in his shrewd eyes. +The boy was either a man out of a thousand or he was a first-class +bluffer. He claimed to have cut Indian sign and to know exactly what was +written there. At a single glance he had sized up Prince and knew him +for a reliable side partner. Without any bluster he had served notice on +Yankie that it would be dangerous to pick on him as the butt of his +ill-temper. + +In those days, on the Pecos, law lay in a holster on a man's thigh. The +individual was a force only so far as his personality impressed itself +upon his fellows. If he made claims he must be prepared to back them to a +fighting finish. + +Was this young Thursday a false alarm? Or was he a good man to let alone +when one was looking for trouble? Webb could not be sure yet, though he +made a shrewd guess. But he knew it would not he long before he found +out. + + + + +Chapter II + +Shoot-a-Buck Cañon + + +Webb sent for Billie Prince. + +"Seems there's a bunch of bronco 'Paches camped ahead of us, Billie. +Thursday here trailed with Sieber. I want you an' him to scout in front +of us an' see we don't run into any ambush. You're under his orders, y' +understand." + +Prince was a man of few words. He nodded. + +"You know the horses that the boys claim. Well, take Thursday to the +remuda an' help him pick a mount from the extras in place of that +broomtail he's ridin'," continued the drover. "Look alive now. I don't +want my cattle stampeded because we haven't got sense enough to protect +'em. No 'Paches can touch a hoof of my stock if I can help it." + +"If they attack at all it will probably be just before daybreak, but it +is just as well to be ready for 'em," suggested Thursday. + +"I brought along some old Sharps an' some Spencers. I reckon I'll have +'em loaded an' distribute 'em among the boys. Billie, tell Yankie to have +that done. The rifles are racked up in the calf wagon." + +Billie delivered the orders of the drover to the foreman as they passed +on their way to the remuda. Joe gave a snort of derision, but let it go +at that. When Homer Webb was with one of his trail outfits he was always +its boss. + +While Thursday watched him, Prince roped out a cinnamon horse from the +remuda. The cowpuncher was a long-bodied man, smooth-muscled and lithe. +The boy had liked his level eye and his clean, brown jaw before, just as +now he approved the swift economy of his motions. + +Probably Billie was about twenty years of age, but in that country +men ripened young. Both of these lads had been brought up in that +rough-and-ready school of life which holds open session every day of the +year. Both had already given proofs of their ability to look out for +themselves in emergency. A wise, cool head rested on each of these pairs +of young shoulders. In this connection it is worth mentioning that the +West's most famous outlaw, Billie the Kid, a killer with twenty-one +notches on his gun, had just reached his majority when he met his death +some years later at the hands of Pat Garrett. + +The new rider for the Flying V Y outfit did not accept the judgment of +Prince without confirming it. He examined the hoofs of the horse and felt +its legs carefully. He looked well to its ears to make sure that ticks +from the mesquite had not infected the silky inner flesh. + +"A good bronc, looks like," he commented. + +"One of the fastest in the remuda--not very gentle, though." + +Thursday picked the witches' bridles from its mane before he saddled. As +his foot found the stirrup the cinnamon rose into the air, humped its +back, and came down with all four legs stiff. The quirt burned its flank, +and the animal went up again to whirl round in the air. The boy stuck to +the saddle and let out a joyous whoop. The battle was on. + +Suddenly as it had begun the contest ended. With the unreasoning impulse +of the half-broken cowpony the cinnamon subsided to gentle obedience. + +The two riders cantered across the prairie in the direction of the Indian +camp. That the Apaches were still there Thursday thought altogether +likely, for he knew that it takes a week to make mescal. No doubt the +raiders had stopped to hold a jamboree over the success of their +outbreak. + +The scouts from the cattle herd deflected toward a butte that pushed out +as a salient into the plain. From its crest they could get a sweeping +view of the valley. + +"There's a gulch back of it that leads to old man Roubideau's place," +explained Prince. "Last time we were on this Pecos drive the boss stopped +an' bought a bunch of three-year-olds from him. He's got a daughter +that's sure a pippin, old man Roubideau has. Shoot, ride, rope--that +girl's got a lot of these alleged bullwhackers beat a mile at any one of +'em." + +Thursday did not answer. He had left the saddle and was examining the +ground carefully. Billie joined him. In the soft sand of the wash were +tracks of horses' hoofs. Patiently the trailer followed them foot by foot +to the point where they left the dry creek-bed and swung up the broken +bank to a swale. + +"Probably Roubideau and his son Jean after strays," suggested Prince. + +"No. Notice this track here, how it's broken off at the edge. When I cut +Indian sign yesterday, this was one of those I saw." + +"Then these are 'Paches too?" + +"Yes." + +"Goin' to the Roubideau place." The voice of Billie was low and husky. +His brown young face had been stricken gray. Bleak fear lay in the gray +eyes. His companion knew he was thinking of the girl. "How many of 'em do +you make out?" + +"Six or seven. Not sure which." + +"How old?" + +"They passed here not an hour since." + +It was as if a light of hope had been lit in the face of the young man. +"Mebbe there's time to help yet. Kid, I'm goin' in." + +Jim Thursday made no reply, unless it was one to vault to the saddle and +put his horse to the gallop. They rode side by side, silently and +alertly, rifles across the saddle-horns in their hands. The boy from +Arizona looked at his new friend with an increase of respect. This was, +of course, a piece of magnificent folly. What could two boys do against +half a dozen wily savages? But it was the sort of madness that he loved. +His soul went out in a gush of warm, boyish admiration to Billie Prince. +It was the beginning of a friendship that was to endure, in spite of +rivalry and division and misunderstanding, through many turbid years of +trouble. This was no affair of theirs. Webb had sent them out to protect +the cattle drive. They were neglecting his business for the sake of an +adventure that might very well mean the death of both of them. But it was +characteristic of Thursday that it never even occurred to him to let +Prince take the chance alone. Even in the days to come, when his name was +anathema in the land, nobody ever charged that he would not go through +with a comrade. + +There drifted to them presently the faint sound of a shot. It was +followed by a second and a third. + +"The fight's on," cried Thursday. + +Billie's quirt stung the flank of his pony. Near the entrance to the +cañon his companion caught up with him. From the rock walls of the gulch +came to them booming echoes of rifles in action. + +"Roubideau must be standin' 'em off," shouted Prince. + +"Can we take the 'Paches by surprise? Is there any other way into the +cañon?" + +"Don't know. Can't stop to find out. I'm goin' straight up the road." + +The younger man offered no protest. It might well be that the ranchman +was in desperate case and in need of immediate help to save his family. +Anyhow, the decision was out of his hands. + +The horses pounded forward and swept round a curve of the gulch into +sight of the ranch. In a semicircle, crouched behind the shelter of +boulders and cottonwoods, the Indian line stretched across the gorge and +along one wall. The buildings lay in a little valley, where an arroyo ran +down at a right angle and broke the rock escarpment. A spurt of smoke +came from a window of the stable as the rescuers galloped into view. + +One of the Apaches caught sight of them and gave a guttural shout of +warning. His gun jumped to the shoulder and simultaneously the bullet was +on its way. But no living man could throw a shot quicker than Jim +Thursday, if the stories still told of him around camp-fires are true. +Now he did not wait to take sight, but fired from his hip. The Indian +rose, half-turned, and fell forward across the boulder, his naked body +shining in the sun. By a hundredth part of a second the white boy had +out-speeded him. + +The riders flung themselves from their horses and ran for cover. + +The very audacity of their attack had its effect. The Indians guessed +these two were the advance guard of a larger party which had caught them +in a trap. Between two fires, with one line of retreat cut off, the +bronco Apaches wasted no time in deliberation. They made a rush for their +horses, mounted, and flew headlong toward the arroyo, their bodies lying +low on the backs of the ponies. + +The Indians rode superbly, their bare, sinewy legs gripping even to the +moccasined feet the sides of the ponies. Without saddle or bridle, except +for the simple nose rope, they guided their mounts surely, the brown +bodies rising and falling in perfect accord with the motion of the +horses. + +A shot from the stable hit one as he galloped past. While his horse was +splashing through the creek the Mescalero slid slowly down, head first, +into the brawling water. + +Billie took a long, steady aim and fired. A horse stumbled and went down, +flinging the rider over its head. With a "Yip--Yip!" of triumph Thursday +drew a bead on the man as he rose and dodged forward. Just as the boy +fired a sharp pain stung his foot. One of the escaping natives had +wounded him. + +The dismounted man ran forward a few steps and pulled himself to the back +of a pony already carrying one rider. Something in the man's gait and +costume struck Prince. + +"That fellow's no Injun," he called to his friend. + +"Look!" Thursday was pointing to the saddle-back between two peaks at the +head of the arroyo. + +A girl on horseback had just come over the summit and stood silhouetted +against the sky. Even in that moment while they watched her she realized +for the first time her danger. She turned to fly, and she and her horse +disappeared down the opposite slope. The Mescaleros swept up the hill +toward her. + +"They'll git her! They'll sure git her!" cried Billie, making for his +horse. + +The younger man ran limping to his cinnamon. At every step he winced, and +again while his weight rested on the wounded foot as he dragged himself +to the saddle. A dozen yards behind his companion he sent his horse +splashing through the creek. + +The cowponies, used to the heavy going in the hills, took the slope in +short, quick plunges. Neither of the young men used the spur, for the +chase might develop into a long one with stamina the deciding factor. The +mesquite was heavy and the hill steep, but presently they struck a cattle +run which led to the divide. + +Two of the Apaches stopped at the summit for a shot at their pursuers, +but neither of the young men wasted powder in answer. They knew that +close-range work would prove far more deadly and that only a chance hit +could serve them now. + +From Billie, who had reached the crest first, came a cry of dismay. His +partner, a moment later, knew the reason for it. One of the Apaches, +racing across the valley below, was almost at the heels of the girl. + +The cowpunchers flung their ponies down the sharp incline recklessly. The +animals were sure-footed as mountain goats. Otherwise they could never +have reached the valley right side up. It was a stretch of broken shale +with much loose rubble. The soft sandstone farther along had eroded and +there was a great deal of slack débris down which the horses slipped and +slid, now on their haunches and again on all fours. + +The valley stretched for a mile before them and terminated at a rock wall +into which, no doubt, one or more cañons cut like sword clefts. The +cowpunchers had picked mounts, but it was plain they could not overhaul +the Apaches before the Indians captured the girl. + +Billie, even while galloping at full speed, began a long-distance fire +upon the enemy. One of the Mescaleros had caught the bridle of the young +woman's horse and was stopping the animal. It looked for a moment as if +the raiders were going to make a stand, but presently their purpose +became clear to those in pursuit. The one that Billie had picked for a +renegade white dropped from the horse upon which he was riding double and +swung up behind the captive. The huddle of men and ponies opened up and +was in motion again toward the head of the valley. + +But though the transfer had been rapid, it had taken time. The pursuers, +thundering across the valley, had gained fast. Rifles barked back and +forth angrily. + +The Indians swerved sharply to the left for the mouth of a cañon. Here +they pulled up to check the cowboys, who slid from their saddles to use +their ponies for protection. + +"That gorge to the right is called Escondido Cañon," explained Prince. +"We combed it for cattle last year. About three miles up it runs into the +one where the 'Paches are! Don't remember the name of that one." + +"I'll give it a new name," answered the boy. He raised his rifle, rested +it across the back of his pony, and took careful aim. An Indian plunged +from his horse. "Shoot-a-Buck Cañon--how'll that do for a name?" inquired +Thursday with a grin. + +Prince let out a whoop. "You got him right. He'll never smile again. +Shoot-a-Buck Cañon goes." + +The Indians evidently held a hurried consultation and changed their minds +about holding the gorge against such deadly shooting as this. + +"They're gun-shy," announced Thursday. "They don't like the way we fog +'em and they're goin' to hit the trail, Billie." + +After one more shot Prince made the mistake of leaving the shelter of his +horse too soon. He swung astride and found the stirrup. A puff of smoke +came from the entrance to the gulch. Billie turned to his friend with a +puzzled, sickly smile on his face. "They got me, kid." + +"Bad?" + +The cowboy began to sag in the saddle. His friend helped him to the +ground. The wound was in the thigh. + +"I'll tie it up for you an' you'll be good as new," promised his friend. + +The older man looked toward the gorge. No Indians were in sight. + +"I can wait, but that little girl in the hands of those devils can't. Are +you game to play a lone hand, kid?" he asked. + +"I reckon." + +"Then ride hell-for-leather up Escondido. It's shorter than the way they +took. Where the gulches come together be waitin' an' git 'em from the +brush. There's just one slim chance you'll make it an' come back alive." + +The boy's eyes were shining. "Suits me fine. I'll go earn that name I +christened myself--Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em." + +Billie, his face twisted with pain, watched the youngster disappear at a +breakneck gallop into Escondido. + + + + +Chapter III + +Ranse Roush Pays + + +Jim Thursday knew that his sole chance of success lay in reaching the +fork of the cañons before the Indians. So far he had been lucky. Three +Apaches had gone to their happy hunting ground, and though both he and +Billie were wounded, his hurt at least did not interfere with accurate +rifle-fire. But it was not reasonable to expect such good fortune to +hold. In the party he was pursuing were four men, all of them used to +warfare in the open. Unless he could take them at a disadvantage he could +not by any possibility defeat them and rescue their captive. + +His cinnamon pony took the rising ground at a steady gallop. Its stride +did not falter, though its breathing was labored. Occasionally the rider +touched its flank with the sharp rowel of a spur. The boy was a lover of +horses. He had ridden too many dry desert stretches, had too often kept +night watch over a sleeping herd, not to care for the faithful and +efficient animal that served him and was a companion to his loneliness. +Like many plainsmen he made of his mount a friend. + +But he dared not spare his pony now. He must ride the heart out of the +gallant brute for the sake of that life he had come to save. And while he +urged it on, his hand patted the sweat-stained neck and his low voice +sympathized. + +"You've got to go to it, old fellow, if it kills you," he said aloud. "We +got to save that girl for Billie, ain't we? We can't let those red devils +take her away, can we?" + +It was a rough cattle trail he followed, strewn here with boulders and +there tilted down at breakneck angle of slippery shale. Sometimes it fell +abruptly into washes and more than once rose so sharply that a heather +cat could scarce have clambered up. But Thursday flung his horse +recklessly at the path, taking chances of a fall that might end the mad +race. He could not wait to pick a way. His one hope lay in speed, in +reaching the fork before the enemy. He sacrificed everything to that. + +From the top of a sharp pitch he looked down into the twin cañon of +Escondido. A sharp bend cut off the view to the left, so that he could +see for only seventy-five or a hundred yards. But his glance followed the +gulch up for half a mile and found no sign of life. He was in time. + +Swiftly he made his preparations. First he led the exhausted horse back +to a clump of young cottonwoods and tied it safely. From its place beside +the saddle he took the muley gun and with the rifle in his other hand he +limped swiftly back to the trail. Every step was torture, but he could +not stop to think of that now. His quick eye picked a perfect spot for an +ambush where a great rock leaned against another at the edge of the +bluff. Between the two was a narrow opening through which he could +command the bend in the trail below. To enlarge this he scooped out the +dirt with his fingers then reloaded the rifle and thrust it into the +crevice. The sawed-off shotgun lay close to his hand. + +Till now he had found no time to get nervous, but as the minutes passed +he began to tremble violently and to whimper. In spite of his experience +he was only a boy and until to-day had never killed a man. + +"Doggone it, if I ain't done gone an' got buck fever," he reproached +himself. "I reckon it's because Billie Prince ain't here that I'm so +scairt. I wisht I had a drink, so as I'd be right when the old muley gun +gits to barkin'." + +A faint sound, almost indistinguishable, echoed up the gulch to him. +Miraculously his nervousness vanished. Every nerve was keyed up, every +muscle tense, but he was cool as water in a mountain stream. + +The sound repeated itself, a faint tinkle of gravel rolling from a trail +beneath the hoof of a horse. At the last moment Thursday changed his mind +and substituted the shotgun for the rifle. + +"Old muley she spatters all over the State of Texas. I might git two at +once," he muttered. + +The light, distant murmur of voices reached him. His trained ear told him +just how far away the speakers were. + +An Apache rounded the bend, a tall, slender young brave wearing only a +low-cut breech-cloth and a pair of moccasins. Around his waist was +strapped a belt full of cartridges and from it projected the handle of a +long Mexican knife. The brown body of the youth was lithe and graceful as +that of a panther. He was smiling over his shoulder at the next rider in +line, a heavy-set, squat figure on a round-bellied pinto. That smile was +to go out presently like the flame of a blown candle. A third Mescalero +followed. Like that of the others, his coarse, black hair fell to the +shoulders, free except for a band that encircled the forehead. + +Still the boy did not fire. He waited till the last of the party +appeared, a man in fringed buckskin breeches and hickory shirt riding +pillion behind a young woman. Both of these were white. + +The sawed-off gun of Thursday covered the second rider carefully. Before +the sound of the shot boomed down the gorge the Apache was lifted from +the bare back of the pony. The heavy charge of buckshot had riddled him +through and through. + +Instantly the slim, young brave in the lead dug his heels into the flank +of his pony, swung low to the far side so that only a leg was visible, +and flew arrow-straight up the cañon for safety. Thursday let him go. + +Twice his rifle rang out. At that distance it was impossible for a good +shot to miss. One bullet passed through the head of the third Mescalero. +The other brought down the pony upon which the whites were riding. + +The fall of the horse flung the girl free, but the foot of her captor was +caught between the saddle and the ground. Thursday drew a bead on him +while he lay there helpless, but some impulse of mercy held his hand. The +man was that creature accursed in the border land, a renegade who has +turned his face against his own race and must to prove his sincerity to +the tribe out-Apache an Apache at cruelty. Still, he was white after +all--and Jim Thursday was only eighteen. + +Rifle in hand the boy clambered down the jagged rock wall to the dry +river-bed below. The foot of his high-heeled boot was soggy with blood, +but for the present he had to ignore the pain messages that throbbed to +his brain. The business on hand would not wait. + +While Thursday was still slipping down from one outcropping ledge of rock +to another, a plunge of the wounded horse freed the renegade. The man +scrambled to his feet and ran shakily for the shelter of a boulder. In +his hurry to reach cover he did not stop to get the rifle that had been +flung a few yards from him when he fell. + +The boy caught one glimpse of that evil, fear-racked face. The blood +flushed his veins with a surge of triumph. He was filled with the savage, +primitive exultation of the head-hunter. For four years he had slept on +the trail of this man and had at last found him. The scout had fought the +Apaches impersonally, without rancor, because a call had come to him that +he could not ignore. But now the lust of blood was on him. He had become +that cold, implacable thing known throughout the West as a "killer." + +The merciless caution that dictates the methods of a killer animated his +movements now. Across the gulch, nearly one hundred and fifty yards from +him, the renegade lay crouched. A hunched shoulder was just visible. + +Thursday edged carefully along the ledge. He felt for holds with his hand +and feet, for not once did his gaze lift from that patch of hickory +shirt. The eyes of the boy had narrowed to slits of deadly light. He was +wary as a hungry wolf and as dangerous. That the girl had disappeared +around the bend he did not know. His brain functioned for just one +purpose--to get the enemy with whom he had come at last to grips. + +As the boy crept along the rock face for a better view of his victim, the +minutes fled. Five of them--ten--a quarter of an hour passed. The +renegade lay motionless. Perhaps he hoped that his location was unknown. + +The man-hunter on the ledge flung a bullet against the protecting +boulder. His laugh of cruel derision drifted across the cañon. + +"Run to earth at last, Ranse Roush!" he shouted, "I swore I'd camp on +your trail till I got you--you an' the rest of yore poison tribe." + +From the trapped wretch quavered back a protest. + +"Goddlemighty, I ain't done nothin' to you-all. Lemme explain." + +"Before you do any explainin' mebbe you'd better guess who it is that's +goin' to send yore cowardly soul to hell inside of five minutes." + +"If you're some kin to that gal on the hawss with me, why, I'll tell you +the honest-to-God truth. I was aimin' to save her from the 'Paches when I +got a chanct. Come on down an' let's we-uns talk it over reasonable." + +The boy laughed again, but there was something very far from mirth in the +sound of that chill laughter. "If you won't guess I'll have to tell you +Ever hear of the Clantons, Ranse Roush? I'm one of 'em. Now you know what +chance you got to talk yoreself out of this thing." + +"I--I'm glad to meet up with you-all. I got to admit that the Roush clan +is dirt mean. Tha's why I broke away from 'em. Tha's why I come out here. +You Clantons is all right. I never did go in for this bushwhackin' with +Dave an' Hugh. I never--" + +"You're a born liar like the rest of yore wolf tribe. You come out here +because the country got too hot to hold you after what you did to 'Lindy +Clanton. I might 'a' knowed I'd find you with the 'Paches. You allus was +low-mixed Injun." The boy had fallen into the hill vernacular to which he +had been born. He was once more a tribal feudist of the border land. + +"I swear I hadn't a thing to do with that," the man cried eagerly. "You +shore done got that wrong. Dave an' Hugh done that. They're a bad lot. +When I found out about 'Lindy Clanton I quarreled with 'em an' we-all +split up company. Tha's the way of it." + +"You're ce'tainly in bad luck then," the boy shouted back tauntingly. +"For I aim to stomp you out like I would a copperhead." Very distinctly +he added his explanation. "I'm 'Lindy Clanton's brother." + +Roush begged for his life. He groveled in the dust. He promised to +reform, to leave the country, to do anything that was asked of him. + +"Go ahead. It's meat an' drink to me to hear a Roush whine. I got all day +to this job, but I aim to do it thorough," jeered Clanton. + +A bullet flattened itself against the rock wall ten feet below the boy. +In despair the man was shooting wildly with his revolver. He knew there +was no use in pleading, that his day of judgment had come. + +Young Clanton laughed in mockery. "Try again, Roush. You ain't quite got +the range." + +The man made a bolt for the bend in the cañon a hundred yards away. +Instantly the rifle leaped to the shoulder of the boy. + +"Right in front of you, Roush," he prophesied. + +The bullet kicked up the dust at the feet of the running man. The nerve +of Roush failed him and he took cover again behind a scrub live-oak. A +memory had flashed to him of the day when he had seen a thirteen-year-old +boy named Jim Clanton win a turkey shoot against the best marksmen of +the hill country. + +The army Colt spit out once more at the boy on the ledge. Before the echo +had died away the boom of an explosion filled the cañon. Roush pitched +forward on his face. + +Jim Clanton lowered his rifle with an exclamation. His face was a picture +of amazement. Some one had stolen his vengeance from him by a hair's +breadth. + +Two men came round the bend on horseback. Behind them rode a girl. She +was mounted on the barebacked pinto of the Indian Clanton had killed +with the shotgun. + +The boy clambered down to the bed of the gulch and limped toward them. +The color had ebbed from his lips. At every step a pain shot through his +leg. But in spite of his growing weakness anger blazed in the light-blue +eyes. + +"I waited four years to git him. I kept the trail hot from Tucson to +Vegas an' back to Santone. An' now, doggone it, when my finger was on the +trigger an' the coyote as good as dead, you cut in an' shoot the +daylights out of him. By gum, it ain't fair!" + +The older man looked at him in astonishment. "But he is only a child, +Polly! Cela me passe!" + +"Mebbe I am only a kid," the boy retorted resentfully. "But I reckon I'm +man enough to handle any Roush that ever lived. I wasn't askin' for help +from you-uns that I heerd tell of." + +The younger man laughed. He was six or seven years older than the girl, +who could not have been more than seventeen. Both of them bore a marked +likeness to the middle-aged man who had spoken. Jim guessed that this was +the Roubideau family of whom Billie Prince had told him. + +"Just out of the cradle, by Christmas, and he's killed four 'Paches +inside of an hour an' treed a renegade to boot," said young Roubideau. +"I'd call it a day's work, kid, for it sure beats all records ever I knew +hung up by one man." + +The admiration of the young rancher was patent. He could not take his +eyes from the youthful phenomenon. + +"He's wounded, father," the girl said in a low voice. + +The boy looked at her and his anger died away. "Billie sent me up the +gulch when he was shot. He 'lowed it was up to me to git you back from +those devils, seein' as he couldn't go himself." + +Polly nodded. She seemed to be the kind of girl that understands without +being told in detail. + +Before Thursday could protect himself, Roubideau, senior, had seized him +in his arms, embraced him, and kissed first one cheek and then the other. +"Eh bien! But you are the brave boy! I count it honor to know you. My +little Polly, have you not save her? Ah! But I forget the introductions. +Myself, I am Pierre Roubideau, à tout propos at your service. My son +Jean. Pauline--what you call our babie." + +"My real name is Jim Clanton," answered the boy. "I've been passin' by +that of 'Thursday' so that none of the Roush outfit would know I was in +the country till I met up face to face with 'em." + +"Clanton! It is a name we shall remember in our prayers, n'est-ce pas, +Polly?" Pierre choked up and wrung fervently the hand of the youngster. + +Clanton was both embarrassed and wary. He did not know at what moment +Roubideau would disgrace him by attempting another embrace. There was +something in the Frenchman's eye that told of an emotion not yet expended +fully. + +"Oh, shucks; you make a heap of fuss about nothin'," he grumbled. "Didn't +I tell you it was Billie Prince sent me? An' say, I got a pill in my +foot. Kindness of one of them dad-gummed Mescaleros. I hate to walk on +that laig. I wish yore boy would go up on the bluff an' look after my +horse. I 'most rode it to death, I reckon, comin' up the cañon. An' +there's a sawed-off shotgun. He'll find it..." + +For a few moments the ground had been going up and down in waves before +the eyes of the boy. Now he clutched at a stirrup leather for support, +but his fingers could not seem to find it. Before he could steady himself +the bed of the dry creek rose up and hit him in the head. + + + + +Chapter IV + +Pauline Roubideau Says "Thank You." + + +Jimmie Clanton slid back from unconsciousness to a world the center of +which was a girl sitting on a rock with his rifle across her knees. The +picture did not at first associate itself with any previous experience. +She was a brown, slim young thing in a calico print that fitted snugly +the soft lines of her immature figure. The boy watched her shyly and +wondered at the quiet self-reliance of her. She was keeping guard over +him, and there was about her a cool vigilance that went oddly with the +small, piquant face and the tumbled mass of curly chestnut hair that had +fallen in a cascade across her shoulders. + +"Where are yore folks?" he asked presently. + +She turned her head slowly and looked at him. Southern suns had sprinkled +beneath her eyes a myriad of powdered freckles. She met his gaze +fairly, with a boyish directness and candor. + +"Jean has ridden out to tell your friends about you and Mr. Prince. +Father has gone back to the house to fix up a travois to carry you." + +"Sho! I can ride." + +"There's no need of it. You must have lost a great deal of blood." + +He looked down at his foot and saw that the boot had been cut away. A +bandage of calico had been tied around the wound. He guessed that the +girl had sacrificed part of a skirt. + +"And you stayed here to see the 'Paches didn't play with me whilst yore +father was gone," he told her. + +"There wasn't any danger, of course. The only one that escaped is miles +away from here. But we didn't like to leave you alone." + +"That's right good of you." + +Her soft, brown eyes met his again. They poured upon him the gift of +passionate gratitude she could not put into words. It was from something +much more horrible than death that he had snatched her. One moment she +had been a creature crushed, leaden despair in her heart. Then the +miracle had flashed down from the sky. She was free, astride the pinto, +galloping for home. + +"Yes, you owe us much." There was a note of light sarcasm in her clear, +young voice, but the feeling in her heart swept it away in an emotional +rush of words from the tongue of her father. "Vous avez pris le fait et +cause pour moi. Sans vous j'étais perdu." + +"You're French," he said. + +"My father is, not my mother. She was from Tennessee." + +"I'm from the South, too." + +"You didn't need to tell me that," she answered with a little smile. + +"Oh, I'm a Westerner now, but you ought to have heerd me talk when I +first came out." He broached a grievance. "Say, will you tell yore dad +not to do that again? I'm no kid." + +"Do what?" + +"You know." The red flamed into his face. "If it got out among the boys +what he'd done, I'd never hear the last of it." + +"You mean kissed you?" + +"Sure I do. That ain't no way to treat a fellow. I'm past eighteen if I +am small for my age. Nobody can pull the pat-you-on-the-head-sonny stuff +on me." + +"But you don't understand. That isn't it at all. My father is French. +That makes all the difference. When he kissed you it meant--oh, that he +honored and esteemed you because you fought for me." + +"I been tellin' you right along that Billie Prince is to blame. Let him +go an' kiss Billie an' see if he'll stand for it." + +A flash of roguishness brought out an unexpected dimple near the corner +of her insubordinate mouth. "We'll be good, all of us, and never do it +again. Cross our hearts." + +Young Clanton reddened beneath the tan. Without looking at her he felt +the look she tilted sideways at him from under the long, curved lashes. +Of course she was laughing at him. He knew that much, even though he +lacked the experience to meet her in kind. Oddly enough, there pricked +through his embarrassment a delicious little tingle of delight. So long +as she took him in as a partner of her gayety she might make as much fun +of him as she pleased. + +But the owlish dignity of his age would not let him drop the subject +without further explanation. "It's all right for yore dad to much you. I +reckon a girl kinder runs to kisses an' such doggoned foolishness. But a +man's different. He don't go in for it." + +"Oh, doesn't he?" asked Polly demurely. She did not think it necessary to +mention that every unmarried man who came to the ranch wanted to make +love to her before he left. "I'm glad you told me, because I'm only a +girl and I don't know much about it. And since you're a man, of course +you know." + +"That's the way it is," he assured her, solemn as a pouter. + +She bit her lip to keep from laughing out, but on the heels of her mirth +came a swift reproach. In his knowledge of life he might be a boy, but in +one way at least he had proved himself a man. He had taken his life in +his hands and ridden to save her without a second thought. He had fought +a good fight, one that would be a story worth telling when she had become +an old woman with grandchildren at her knee. + +"Does your foot hurt you much?" she asked gently. + +"It sort o' keeps my memory jogged up. It's a kind of forget-me-not +souvenir, for a good boy, compliments of a Mescalero buck, name unknown, +probably now permanently retired from his business of raisin' Cain. But +it might be a heap worse. They would've been glad to collect our scalps +if it hadn't been onconvenient, I expect." + +"Yes," she agreed gravely. + +He sat up abruptly. "Say, what about Billie? I left him wounded outside. +Did yore folks find him?" + +"Yes. It seems the Apaches trapped them in the stable. They roped horses +and came straight for the cañon. They found Mr. Prince, but they had +no time to stop then. Father is looking after him now. He said he was +going to take him to the house in the buckboard." + +"Is he badly hurt?" + +"Jean thinks he will be all right. Mr. Prince told him it was only a +flesh wound, but the muscles were so paralysed he couldn't get around." + +"The bullet did not strike an artery, then?" + +"My brother seemed to think not." + +"I reckon there's no doctor near." + +Her eyes twinkled. "Not very near. Our nearest neighbor lives on the +Pecos one hundred land seventeen miles away. But my father is as good as +a doctor any day of the week." + +"Likely you don't borrow coffee next door when you run out of it +onexpected. But don't you get lonesome?" + +"Haven't time," she told him cheerfully. "Besides, somebody going through +stops off every three or four months. Then we learn all the news." + +Jimmie glanced at her shyly and looked quickly away. This girl was not +like any woman he had known. Most of them were drab creatures with the +spirit washed out of them. His sister had been an exception. She had had +plenty of vitality, good looks and pride, but the somber shadow of her +environment had not made for gayety. It was different with Pauline +Roubideau. Though she had just escaped from terrible danger, laughter +bubbled up in her soft throat, mirth rippled over her mobile little face. +She expressed herself with swift, impulsive gestures at times. Then again +she suggested an inheritance of slow grace from the Southland of her +mother. + +He did not understand the contradictions of her and they worried him a +little. Billie had told him that she could rope and shoot as well as any +man. He had seen for himself that she was an expert rider. Her nerves +were good enough to sit beside him at quiet ease within a stone's throw +of three sprawling bodies from which she had seen the lusty life driven +scarce a half-hour since. Already he divined the boyish _camaraderie_ +that was so simple and direct an expression of good-will. And yet there +was something about her queer little smile he could not make out. It +hinted that she was really old enough to be his mother, that she was +heiress of wisdom handed down by her sex through all the generations. +As yet he had not found out that he was only a boy and she was a woman. + +*** + + +Chapter V + +No Four-Flusher + + +Pauline Roubideau knew the frontier code. She evinced no curiosity about +the past of this boy-man who had come into her life at the nick of time. +None the less she was eager to know what connection lay between him and +the renegade her brother had killed. She had heard Jim Clanton say that +he had waited four years for his revenge and had followed the man all +over the West. Why? What motive could be powerful enough with a boy of +fourteen to sway so completely his whole life toward vengeance? + +She set herself to find out without asking. Inside of ten minutes the +secret which had been locked so long in his warped soul had been confided +to her. The boy broke down when he told her the story of his sister's +death. He was greatly ashamed of himself for his emotion, but the touch +of her warm sympathy melted the ice in his heart and set him sobbing. + +Quickly she came across to him and knelt down by his side. + +"You poor boy! You poor, poor boy!" she murmured. + +Her arm crept round his shoulders with the infinitely tender caress of +the mother that lies, dormant or awake, in all good women. + +"I--I--I'm nothing but a baby," he gulped, trying desperately to master +his sobs. + +"Don't talk foolishness," she scolded to comfort him. "I wouldn't think +much of you if you didn't love your sister enough to cry for her." + +There were tears in her own eyes. Her lively young imagination pictured +vividly the desolation of the young hill girl betrayed so cruelly, the +swift decline of her stern, broken-hearted father. The thought of the +half-grown boy following the betrayers of his sister across the +continent, his life dedicated for years to vengeance, was a dreadful +thing to contemplate. It shocked her sense of all that was fitting. No +doubt his mission had become a religion with him. He had lain down at +night with that single purpose before him. He had risen with it in the +morning. It had been his companion throughout the day. From one season to +another he had cherished it when he should have been filled with the +happy, healthy play impulses natural to his age. + +The boy told the story of that man-hunt without a suspicion that there +was anything in it to outrage the feelings of the girl. + +"If it hadn't been for old Nance Cunningham, I reckon Devil Dave an' his +brothers would have fixed up some cock an' bull story about how 'Lindy +was drowned by accident. But folks heard Nance an' then wouldn't believe +a word they said. Dad swore us Clantons to wipe out the whole clan of +'em. Every last man in the hills that was decent got to cussin' the Roush +outfit. Their own friends turned their backs on all three. Then the +sheriff come up from the settlemint an' they jest naturally lit out. + +"I heerd tell they were in Arizona an' after dad died I took after 'em. +But seemed like I had no luck. When I struck their trail they had always +just gone. To-day I got Ranse--leastways I would'a' got him if yore +brother hadn't interfered. I'll meet up with the others one o' these +times. I'll git 'em too." + +He spoke with quiet conviction, as if it were a business matter that had +to be looked after. + +"Did you ever hear this: 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the +Lord'?" + +He nodded. "Dad used to read that to me. There's a heap in the Bible +about killin' yore enemies. Dad said that vengeance verse meant that +we-all was the Lord's deputies, like a sheriff has folks to help him, an' +we was certainly to repay the Roushes an' not to forgit interest +neither." + +The girl shook her head vigorously. "I don't think that's what it means +at all. If you'll read the verses above and below, you'll see it doesn't. +We're to feed our enemies when they are hungry. We're to do them good for +evil." + +"That's all right for common, every-day enemies, but the Roush clan ain't +that kind," explained the boy stubbornly. "It shore is laid on me to +destroy 'em root an' branch, like the Bible says." + +By the way he wagged his head he might have been a wise little old man. +The savage philosophy of the boy had been drawn in with his mother's +milk. It had been talked by his elders while as a child he drowsed before +the big fireplace on winter nights. After his sister's tragic death it +had been driven home by Bible texts and by a solemn oath of vengeance. +Was it likely that anything she could say would have weight with him? For +the present the girl gave up her resolve to convert him to a more +Christian point of view. + +The sun had sunk behind the cañon wall when Pierre Roubideau arrived with +a travois which he had hastily built. There was no wagon-road up the +gulch and it would have been difficult to get the buckboard in as far as +the fork over the broken terrain. As a voyageur of the North he had often +seen wounded men carried by the Indians in travois across the plains. He +knew, too, that the tribes of the Southwest use them. This one was +constructed of two sixteen-foot poles with a canvas lashed from one bar +to the other. The horse was harnessed between the ends of the shafts, the +other ends dragging on the ground. + +Clanton looked at this device distastefully. "I'm no squaw. Whyfor can't +I climb on its back an' ride?" + +"Because you are seeck. It iss of the importance that you do not exert +yourself. Voyons! You will be comfortable here. N'est-ce pas, Polly?" +Pierre gesticulated as he explained volubly. He even illustrated the +comfort by lying down in the travois himself and giving a dramatic +representation of sleep. + +The young man grumbled, but gave way reluctantly. + +"How's Billie Prince?" he asked presently from the cot where he lay. + +"He will hafe a fever, but soon he will be well again. I, Pierre, promise +it. For he iss of a good strength and sound as a dollar." + +Pauline, rifle in hand, scouted ahead of the travois and picked the +smoothest way down the rough ravine. The horse that Roubideau drove was +an old and patient one. Its master held it to a slow, even pace, so that +the wounded boy was jolted as little as possible. When they had reached +the entrance to the gorge, travel across the valley became less bumpy. + +The young girl walked as if she loved it. The fine, free swing of the +hill woman was in her step. She breasted the slope with the light grace +of a forest faun. Presently she dropped back to a place beside the +conveyance and smiled encouragement at him. + +"Pretty bad, is it?" + +He grinned back. "It's up to me to play the hand I've been dealt." + +That he was in a good deal of pain was easy to guess. + +"We're past the worst of it," Pauline told him, "Up this hill--down the +other side--and then we're home." + +The bawling of thirsty cattle and the blatting of calves could be heard +now. + +"It iss that Monsieur Webb has taken my advice to drive the herd up the +cañon and into the park for the night," explained Roubideau. "There iss +one way in, one way out. Guard the entrances and the 'Paches cannot +stampede the cattle. Voilà!" + +From the hill-top the leaders of the herd could be seen drinking at the +creek. Cattle behind were pushing forward to get at the water, while the +riders on the point and at the swing were directing the movement of the +beeves, now checking the steady pressure from the rear and now hastening +the pace of those dawdling in the stream. To add to the confusion cows +were mooing loudly for their off-spring not yet unloaded from the calf +wagon. + +Near the summit Jean with the buckboard met the party from the cañon. He +helped Clanton to the seat and drove to the house. + +Webb cantered up. "What's this I hear about you, Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em? They +tell me you've made four good Injuns to-day, shot up a renegade, rescued +this young lady here, 'most rode one of my horses to death, an' got stove +up in the foot yore own self. It certainly must have been yore busy +afternoon." + +The drover looked at him with a new respect. He had found the answer to +the question he had put himself a few hours earlier. This boy was no +four-flusher. He not only knew how and when to shoot, was game as a +bulldog, and keen as a weasel; he possessed, too, that sixth sense so +necessary to a gun-fighter, the instinct which shows him how to take +advantage of every factor in the situation so as to come through safely. + +"I didn't do it all," answered Clanton, flushing. "Billie helped, and the +Roubideaus got two of 'em." + +"That's not the way Billie tells it. Anyhow, you-all made a great gather +between you. Six 'Paches that will never smile again ought to give the +raiders a pain." + +"Don't you think we'd better get him to bed?" said Pauline gently. + +"You're shoutin', ma'am," agreed Webb. "Roubideau, the little boss says +Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em is to be put to bed. I'll tote him in if you'll +give my boys directions about throwin' the herd into yore park and +loose-herdin' 'em there." + +The Missourian picked up the wounded boy and followed Pauline into the +house. She led the way to her own little bedroom. It was the most +comfortable in the house and that was the one she wanted Jim Clanton to +have. + + + + +Chapter VI + +Billie Asks a Question + + +Roubideau rounded up next day his beef stock and sold two hundred head to +the drover. During the second day the riders were busy putting the road +brand on the cattle just bought. + +"Don't bust yore suspenders on this job, boys," Webb told his men. "I'd +just as lief lie up here for a few days while Uncle Sam is roundin' up +his pets camped out there. Old man Roubideau says we're welcome to stick +around. The feed's good. Our cattle are some gaunted with the drive. It +won't hurt a mite to let 'em stay right here a spell." + +But on the third day came news that induced the Missourian to change his +mind. Jean, who had been out as a scout, returned with the information +that a company of cavalry had come down from the fort and that the +Apaches had hastily decamped for parts unknown. + +"I reckon we'll throw into the trail again tomorrow, Joe," the drover +told Yankie. "No use wastin' time here if we don't have to stay. We'll +mosey along toward the river. Kinder take it easy an' drift the herd down +slow so as to let the cattle put on flesh. Billie an' the kid can join us +soon as they're fit to travel." + +The decision was announced on the porch of the Roubideau house. Its owner +and his daughter were present. So was Dad Wrayburn. The Texan old-timer +snorted as he rolled a cigarette. + +"Hm! Soft thing those two boys have got sittin' around an' bein' petted +by Miss Polly here. I've a notion to go an' bust my laig too. Will you +nurse me real tender, ma'am, if I get stove up pullin' off a grand-stand +play like they done?" + +"The hospital is full. We haven't got room for more invalids, Mr. +Wrayburn," laughed the girl. + +"Well, you let me know when there's a vacancy, Miss Polly. My sister gave +me a book to read onct. It was 'most twenty years ago. The name of it was +'Ivanhoe.' I told her I would save it to read when I broke my laig. Looks +like I never will git that book read." + +By daybreak the outfit was on the move. Yankie trailed the cattle out to +the plain and started them forward leisurely. Webb had allowed himself +plenty of time for the drive. The date set for delivery at the fort was +still distant and he wanted the beeves to be in first-class condition for +inspection. To reach the Pecos he was allowing three weeks, a programme +that would let him bed the herd down early and would permit of drifting +it slowly to graze for an hour or two a day. + +The weeks that followed were red-letter ones in the life of Jim Clanton. +They gave him his first glimpse of a family life which had for its basis +not only affection, but trust and understanding. He had never before seen +a household that really enjoyed little jokes shared in common, whose +members were full of kind consideration the one for the other. The +Roubideaus had more than a touch of the French temperament. They took +life gayly and whimsically, and though they poked all kinds of fun at +each other there was never any sting to their wit. + +Pauline was a famous little nurse. It was not long before she was +offering herself as a crutch to help young Clanton limp to the sunny +porch. Two or three days later Billie joined his fellow invalid. From +where they sat the two young men could hear the girl as she went about +her work singing. Often she came out with a plate of hot, new-baked +cookies for them and a pitcher of milk. Or she would dance out without +any excuse except that of her own frank interest in the youth she shared +with her patients. + +One of the Roubideau jokes was that Polly was the mother of the family +and her father and Jean two mischievous little boys she had to scold and +pet alternately. Temporarily she took the two cowpunchers into her circle +and browbeat them shamefully with an impudent little twinkle in her +eyes. Whatever the state of Billie's mind may have been before, there can +be no doubt that now he was fathoms deep in love. With hungry eyes he +took in her laughter and raillery, her boyish high spirits, the sweet +tenderness of the girl for her father. He loved her wholly--the charm of +her comradeship, of her swift, generous impulses, of that touch of +coquetry she could not entirely subdue. + +Pierre had been a chasseur in the Franco-Prussian War. His daughter was +very proud of it, but one of her games was to mock him fondly by +swaggering back and forth while she sang: + +"Allons, enfants de la patrie, +Le jour de gloire est arrivé." + +When she came to the chorus, nothing would do but all of them must join. +She taught the words and tune to Prince and Jimmie so that they could +fall into line behind the old soldier and his son: + +"Aux armes, citoyens! formez vos bataillons! + Marchons! Marchons! +Qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons." + +It always began in pretended derision, but as she swept her little +company down the porch all the gallant, imperishable soul of France spoke +in her ringing voice and the flash of her brown eyes. Surely her +patriotism was no less sound because the blood of Alsace and that of +Tennessee were fused in her ardent veins. + +The wounds of the young men healed rapidly, and both of them foresaw that +the day of their departure could no longer be postponed. Neither of them +was yet in condition to walk very far, but on horseback they were fit to +travel carefully. + +"We got all the time there is. No need of pushin' on the reins, but I +reckon the old man isn't payin' us fifty dollars a month to hold down the +Roubideau porch," said Prince regretfully. + +"No, we gotta light a shuck," admitted Jim, with no noticeable alacrity. +He was in no hurry to leave himself, even if he did not happen to be in +love. + +Billie put his fortune to the touch while he was out with Polly rounding +up some calves. They were riding knee to knee in the dust of the drag +through a small arroyo. + +The cowpuncher swallowed once or twice in a dry throat and blurted out, +"I got something to tell you before I go, Polly." + +The girl flashed a look at him. She recognized the symptoms. Her gaze +went back to the wavelike motion of the backs of the moving yearlings. + +"Don't, Billie," she said gently. + +Before he spoke again he thought over her advice. He knew he had his +answer. But he had to go through with it now. + +"I reckoned it would be that way. I'm nothin' but a rough vaquero. Whyfor +should you like me?" + +"Oh, but I do!" she cried impulsively. "I like you a great deal. You're +one of the best men I know--brave and good and modest. It isn't that; +Billie." + +"Is there--some one else? Or oughtn't I to ask that?" + +"No, there's nobody else. I'm awfully glad you like me. The girl that +gets you will be lucky. But I don't care about men that way. I want to +stay with dad and Jean." + +"Mebbe some day you may feel different about it." + +"Mebbe I will," she agreed. "Anyhow, I want you to stay friends with me. +You will, won't you?" + +"Sure. I'll be there just as long as you want me for a friend," he said +simply. + +She gave him her little gauntleted hand. They were close to a bend in the +draw. Soon they would be within sight of the house. + +"I'd say 'Yes' if I could, Billie. I'd rather it would be you than +anybody else. You won't feel bad, will you?" + +"Oh, that's all right." He smiled, and there was something about the +pluck of the eyes in the lean, tanned face that touched her. "I'm goin' +to keep right on carin' for my little pal even if I can't get what I +want." + +She had not yet fully emerged from her childhood. There was in her a +strong desire to comfort him somehow, to show by a mark of special favor +how high she held him in her esteem. + +"Would you--would you like to kiss me?" she asked simply. + +He felt a clamor of the blood and subdued it before he answered. It was +in accord with the charm she held for him that her frank generosity +enhanced his respect for her. If she gave a royal gift it was out of the +truth of her heart. + +Without need of words she read acceptance in his eyes and leaned toward +him in the saddle. Their lips met. + +"You're the first--except dad and Jean," she told him. + +The feeling in his primitive heart he could not have analyzed. He did not +know that his soul was moved to some such consecration as that of a young +knight taking his vow of service, though he was aware that all the good +in him leaped to instant response in her presence, that by some strange +spiritual alchemy he had passed through a refining process. + +"I'm comin' back to see you some day. Mebbe you'll feel different then," +he said. + +"I might," she admitted. + +They rounded the bend. Clanton, on horseback, caught sight of them. He +waved his hat and cantered forward. + +"Say, Billie, how much bacon do you reckon we need to take with us?" + +In front of the house Pauline slipped from her horse and left them +discussing the commissary. + + + + +Chapter VII + +On the Trail + + +The convalescents rode away into a desert green with spring. The fragrant +chaparral thickets were bursting into flower. Spanish bayonets studded +the plains. Everywhere about them was the promise of a new life not yet +burnt by hot summer suns to a crisp. + +During the day they ran into a swamp country and crossed a bayou where +cypress knees and blue gums showed fantastic in the eerie gloom of the +stagnant water. From this they emerged to a more wooded region and made +an early camp on the edge of a grove of ash trees bordering a small +stream where pecans grew thick. + +Shortly after daybreak they were jogging on at a walk-trot, the road gait +of the Southwest, into the treeless country of the prairie. They nooned +at an arroyo seco, and after they had eaten took a siesta during the heat +of the day. Night brought with it a thunderstorm and they took refuge in +a Mexican hut built of palisades and roofed with grass sod. A widow lived +alone in the jacal, but she made them welcome to the best she had. The +young men slept in a corner of the hut on a dry cowskin spread upon the +mud floor, their saddles for pillows and their blankets rolled about +them. + +While she was cooking their breakfast, Prince noticed the tears rolling +down her cheeks. She was a comely young woman and he asked her gallantly +in the bronco Spanish of the border if there was anything he could do to +relieve her distress. + +She shook her head mournfully. "No, señor," she answered in her native +tongue. "Only time can do that. I mourn my husband. He was a drunken +ne'er-do-well, but he was my man. So I mourn a fitting period. He died in +that corner of the room where you slept." + +"Indeed! When?" asked Billie politely. + +"Ten days ago. Of smallpox." + +The young men never ate that breakfast. They fled into the sunlight and +put many hurried miles between them and their amazed hostess. At the +first stream they stripped, bathed, washed their clothes, dipped the +saddles, and lay nude in the warm sand until their wearing apparel was +dry. + +For many days they joked each other about that headlong flight, but +underneath their gayety was a dread which persisted. + +"I'm like Doña Isabel with her grief. Only time can heal me of that scare +she threw into Billie Prince," the owner of that name confessed. + +"Me too," assented Clanton, helping himself to pinole. "I'll bet I lost a +year's growth, and me small at that." + +Prince had been in the employ of Webb for three years. During the long +hours when they rode side by side he told his companion much about the +Flying V Y outfit and its owner. + +"He's a straight-up man, Homer Webb is. His word is good all over Texas. +He'll sure do to take along," said Billie by way of recommendation. + +"And Joe Yankie--does he stack up A 1 too?" asked the boy dryly. + +"I never liked Joe. It ain't only that he'll run a sandy on you if he can +or that he's always ridin' any one that will stand to be picked on. Joe's +sure a bully. But then he's game enough, too, for that matter. I've seen +him fight like a pack of catamounts. Outside of that I've got a hunch +that he's crooked as a dog's hind leg. Mebbe I'm wrong, I'm tellin' you +how he strikes me. If I was Homer Webb, right now when trouble is comin' +up with the Snaith-McRobert outfit, I'd feel some dubious about Joe. He's +a sulky, revengeful brute, an' the old man has pulled him up with a tight +rein more'n once." + +"What do you mean--trouble with the Snaith-McRobert outfit?" + +"That's a long story. The bad feelin' started soon after the war when +Snaith an' the old man were brandin' mavericks. It kind of smouldered +along for a while, then broke out again when both of them began to bid +on Government beef contracts. There's been some shootin' back an' forth +an' there's liable to be a whole lot more. The Lazy S M--that's the +Snaith-McRobert brand--claims the whole Pecos country by priority. The +old man ain't recognizin' any such fool title. He's got more 'n thirty +thousand head of cattle there an' he'll fight for the grass if he has to. +O' course there's plenty of room for everybody if it wasn't for the beef +contracts an' the general bad feelin'." + +"Don't you reckon it will be settled peaceably? They'll get together an' +talk it over like reasonable folks." + +Billie shook his head. "The Lazy S M are bringin' in a lot of bad men +from Texas an' the Strip. Some of our boys ain't exactly gun-shy either. +One of these days there's sure goin' to be sudden trouble." + +"I'm no gunman," protested Clanton indignantly. "I hired out to the +old man to punch cows. Whyfor should I take any chances with the +Snaith-McRobert outfit when I ain't got a thing in the world against +them?" + +"No, you're no gunman," grinned his friend in amiable derision. +"Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em is a quiet little Sunday-go-to-meetin' kid. It was +kinder by accident that he bumped off four Apaches an' a halfbreed the +other day." + +"Now don't you blame me for that, Billie. You was hell-bent on goin' into +the Roubideau place an' I trailed along. When you got yore pill in the +laig you made me ride up the gulch alone. I claim I wasn't to blame for +them Mescaleros. I wasn't either." + +Prince had made his prophecy about the coming trouble lightly. He could +not guess that the most terrible feud in the history of the West was to +spring out of the quarrel between Snaith and Webb, a border war so grim +and deadly that within three years more than a hundred lusty men were to +fall in battle and from assassination. It would have amazed him to know +that the bullet which laid low the renegade in Shoot-a-Buck Cañon had set +the spark to the evil passions which resulted in what came to be called +the Washington County War. Least of all could he tell that the girl-faced +boy riding beside him was to become the best-known character of all the +desperate ones engaged in the trouble. + + + + +Chapter VIII + +The Fight + + +Half a dozen cowboys cantered up the main street of Los Portales in a +cloud of dust. One of them, older than the rest, let out the wild yell he +had known in the days when he rode with Quantrell's guerrillas on the +infamous raids of that bandit. A second flung into the blue sky three +rapid revolver shots. Plainly they were advertising the fact that they +had come to paint the town red and did not care who knew it. + +The riders pulled up abruptly in front of Tolleson's Gaming Palace & +Saloon, swung from their horses, and trailed with jingling spurs into +that oasis of refreshment. Each of them carried in his hand a rope. The +other end of the rawhide was tied to the horn of a saddle. + +A heavy-set, bow-legged man led the procession to the bar. He straddled +forward with a swagger. The bartender was busy dusting his stock. Before +the man had a chance to turn, the butt of a revolver hammered the +counter. + +"Get busy here! Set 'em up, Mike. And jump!" snarled the heavy man. + +The barkeeper took one look at him and filed no demurrer. "Bad man" was +writ on every line of the sullen, dissipated face of the bully. It was a +safe bet that he was used to having his own way, or failing that was +ready to fight at the drop of the hat. + +Swiftly the drinks were prepared. + +"Here 'show!" + +"How!" + +Every glass was tilted and emptied. + +It was high noon by the sun and Tolleson's was practically deserted. No +devotees sat round the faro, roulette, and keno tables. The dealers were +asleep in bed after their labors. So too were the dance girls. The poker +rooms upstairs held only the stale odor of tobacco and whiskey. Except +for a sleepy negro roustabout attendant and two young fellows at a table +well back from the bar, the cowboys had the big hall all to themselves. + +The bay was near the front of the barnlike room and to the right. To the +left, along the wall, were small tables. Farther back were those used for +gaming. In the rear one corner of the floor held a rostrum with seats for +musicians. The center of the hall was kept clear for dancing. Three steps +led to a door halfway back on the left-hand side of the building. They +communicated with an outer stairway by means of which one could reach the +poker rooms. + +The older of the two young men at the table nodded toward the roisterers +and murmured information. "Some of the Snaith-McRobert crowd." + +His companion was seated with his back to the bar. He had riot turned his +head to look at those lined up in front of the mirrors for drinks, but a +curious change had come over him. The relaxed body had grown rigid. No +longer was he lounging against the back of his chair. From his eyes the +laughter had been wiped out, as a wet sponge obliterates writing on a +slate. All his forces were gathered as if for instant action. He was +tense as a coiled spring. His friend noticed that the boy was listening +intently, every faculty concentrated at attention. + +A man leaning against the other end of the bar was speaking. He had a +shock of long red hair and a squint to his eyes. + +"Sure you're right. A bunch of Webb's gunmen got Ranse--caught him out +alone and riddled him. When Webb drove through here two days ago with +a herd, his killers bragged of it. Ask Harsha up at the Buffalo Corral if +youse don't believe me. Sure as hell's hot we got to go on the war-path. +Here, you Mike! Set 'em up again." + +The boy at the table had drawn back his lips so that the canine teeth +stood out like tusks. There was something wolfish about the face, from +which all the color had been driven. It expressed something so deadly, so +menacing, that the young man across from him felt a shock almost of fear. +"We'd better get out of here," he said, glancing toward the group near +the front door. + +The other young man did not answer, but he made no move to leave. He was +still taking in every syllable of what the drinkers were saying. + +The ex-guerrilla was talking. "Tha's sure sayin' something, Hugh. There +ain't room in New Mexico for Webb's outfit an' ours too." + +"Better go slow, boys," advised another. He was a thick-set man in the +late thirties, tight-lipped and heavy-jawed. His eyes were set so close +together that it gave him a sinister expression. "Talkin' don't get us +anywhere. If we're goin' to sit in a game with Homer Webb an' his +punchers we got to play our hand close." + +"Buck Sanders, segundo of the Lazy S M ranches," explained again the +young man at the table in a low voice. "Say, kid, let's beat it while +the goin' is good." + +The big bow-legged man answered the foreman. "You're right, Buck. So's +Hugh. So's the old rebel. I'm jus' servin' notice that no bunch of +shorthorn punchers can kill a brother of mine an' get away with it. +Un'erstand? I'll meet up with them some day an' I'll sure fog 'em to a +fare-you-well." He interlarded his speech with oaths and foul language. + +"I'll bet you do, Dave," chipped in the man next him, who had had a +run-in with the Texas Rangers and was on the outskirts of civilization +because the Lone Star State did not suit his health. "I would certainly +hate to be one of them when yore old six-gun begins to pop. It sure will +be Glory-hallelujah for some one." + +Dave Roush ordered another drink on the strength of the Texan's +admiration. "Mind, I don't say Ranse wasn't a good man. Mebbe I'm a +leetle mite better 'n him with a hogleg. Mebbe--" + +"Ranse was good with a revolver all right, but sho! you make him look +like a plugged nickel when you go to makin' smoke, Dave," interrupted the +toady. + +"Well, mebbe I do. Say I do. I ain't yet met up with a man can beat me +when I'm right. But at that Ranse was a mighty good man. They bushwhacked +him, I'll bet a stack of blues. I aim to git busy soon as I find out who +done it." + +The red-headed man raised his voice a trifle. "Say, you kid--there at the +table--come here an' hold these ropes! See you don't let the hawses at +the other end of 'em git away!" + +Slowly the boy turned, pushing his chair round so that he half-faced the +group before the bar. He neither rose nor answered. + +"Cayn't you-all hear?" demanded the man with the shock of unkempt, red +hair. + +"I hear, but I'm not comin' right away. When I do, you'll wish I hadn't." + +If a bomb had exploded at his feet Hugh Roush could not have been more +surprised. He was a big, rough man, muscular and sinewy, and he had been +the victor of many a rough-and-tumble fight. On account of his reputation +for quarrelsomeness men chose their words carefully when they spoke to +him. That this little fellow with the smooth, girlish face and the small, +almost womanish hands and feet should defy him was hard to believe. + +"Come a-runnin', kid, or I'll whale the life out of you!" he roared. + +"You didn't get me right," answered the boy in a low, clear voice. "I'm +not comin' till I get ready, Hugh Roush." + +The wolf snap of the boy's jaw, the cold glitter in his eyes, might have +warned Roush and perhaps did. He wondered, too, how this stranger knew +his name so well. + +"Where are you from?" he demanded. + +"From anywhere but here," + +"Meanin' that you're here to stay?" + +"Meanin' that I'm here to stay." + +"Even if I tell you to git out of the country?" + +"You won't be alive to tell me unless you talk right sudden." + +They watched each other, the man and the boy. Neither as yet made any +motion to draw his gun, the younger one because he was not ready, Roush +because he did not want to show any premature alarm before the men taking +in the scene. Nor could he yet convince himself, in spite of the +challenge that rang in the words of the boy, of serious danger from so +unlikely a source. + +Dave Roush had been watching the boy closely. A likeness to someone whom +he could not place stirred faintly his memory. + +"Who are you? What's yore name?" he snapped out. + +The boy had risen from the chair. His hand rested on his hip as if +casually. But Dave had observed the sureness of his motions and he +accepted nothing as of chance. The experience of Roush was that a gunman +lives longer if he is cautious. His fingers closed on the butt of the +revolver at his side. + +"My name is James Clanton." + +Roush let fall a surprised oath. "It's 'Lindy Clanton you look like! +You're her brother--the kid, Jimmie." + +"You've guessed it, Devil Dave." + +The eyes of the two crossed like rapiers. + +"Howcome you here? Whad you want?" asked Roush thickly. + +Already he had made up his mind to kill, but he wanted to choose his own +moment. The instinct of the killer is always to take his enemy at +advantage. Clanton, with that sixth sense which serves the fighter, read +his purpose as if he had printed it on a sign. + +"You know why I'm here--to stomp the life out of you an' yore brother for +what you done to my sister. I've listened to yore brags about what you +would do when you met up with them that killed Ranse Roush. Fine! Now +let's see you make good. I'm the man that ran him down an' put an end to +him. Go through, you four-flushin' coward! Come a-shootin' whenever +you're ready." + +The young Southerner had a definite motive in his jeering. He wanted to +drive his enemies to attack him before they could come at him from two +sides. + +"You--you killed Ranse?" + +"You heard me say it once." The eyes of the boy flashed for a moment to +the red-headed man. "Whyfor are you dodgin' back of the bar, Hugh +Roush? Ain't odds of two to one good enough for you--an' that one only a +kid--without you runnin' to cover like the coyote you are? Looks like +you'll soon be whinin' for me not to shoot, just like Ranse did." + +If any one had cared to notice, the colored roust-about might have been +seen at that moment vanishing out of the back door to a zone of safety. +He showed no evidence whatever of being sleepy. + +The silence that followed the words of the boy was broken by Quantrell's +old grayback. Dave Roush was a bad man--a killer. He had three notches on +his gun. Perhaps he had killed others before coming West. At any rate, he +was no fair match for this undersized boy. + +"He's a kid, Dave. You don't want to gun a kid. You, Clanton--whatever +you call yourself--light a shuck pronto--git out!" + +It is the habit of the killer to look for easy game. Out of the corner of +his eye the man who had betrayed 'Lindy Clanton saw that Hugh was edging +back of the bar and dragging out his gun. This boy could be killed safely +now, since they were two to one, both of them experts with the revolver. +To let him escape would be to live in constant danger for the future. + +"He's askin' for it, Reb. He's goin' to get it." + +Dave Roush pulled his gun, but before he could use it two shots rang out +almost simultaneously. The man at the corner of the bar had the +advantage. His revolver was in the clear before that of Clanton, but Jim +fired from the hip without apparent aim. The bullet was flung from the +barrel an imperceptible second before that of Roush. The gunman, hit in +the wrist of the right hand, gave a grunt and took shelter back of the +bar. + +The bystanders scurried for safety while explosion followed explosion. +Young Clanton, light-footed as a cat, side-stepped and danced about as +he fired. The first shot of the red-headed man had hit him and the shock +of it interfered with his accuracy. Hugh had disappeared, but above the +smoke the youngster still saw the cruel face of Devil Dave leering +triumphantly at him behind the pumping gun. + +The boy kept moving, so that his body did not offer a static target. He +concentrated his attention on Dave, throwing shot after shot at him. That +he would kill his enemy Clanton never had a doubt. It was firmly fixed in +his mind that he had been sent as the appointed executioner of the man. + +It was no surprise to Jim when the face of his sister's betrayer lurched +forward into the smoke. He heard Roush fall heavily to the floor and saw +the weapon hurled out of reach. The fellow lay limp and still. + +Clanton did not waste a second look at the fallen man. He knew that the +other Roush, crouched behind the bar, had been firing at him through the +woodwork. Now a bullet struck the wall back of his head. The red-headed +man had fired looking through a knot-hole. + +The boy's weapon covered a spot three inches above this. He fired +instantly. A splinter flew from a second hole just above the first. +Three long, noiseless strides brought Clanton to the end of the bar. The +red-headed man lay dead on the floor. The bullet had struck him just +above and between the eyes. + +"I reckon that ends the job." + +It was Jim's voice that said the words, though he hardly recognized it. +Overcome by a sudden nausea, he leaned against the bar for support. He +felt sick through and through. + + + + +Chapter IX + +Billie Stands Pat + + +Clanton came back out of the haze to find his friend's arm around his +waist, the sound of his strong, cheerful voice in his ears. + +"Steady, old fellow, steady. Where did they hit you, Jim?" + +"In the shoulder. I'm sick." + +Billie supported him to a chair and called to the bartender, who was +cautiously rising from a prone position behind the bar. "Bring a glass of +water, Mike." + +The wounded man drank the water, and presently the sickness passed. He +saw a little crowd gather. Some of them carried out the body of Hugh +Roush. They returned for that of his brother. + +"Dave ain't dead yet. He's still breathing," one of the men said. + +"Not dead!" exclaimed Clanton. "Did you say he wasn't dead?" + +"Now, don't you worry about that," cautioned Prince. "Looks to me like +you sure got him. Anyhow, it ain't your fault. You were that quiet and +game and cool. I never saw the beat." + +The admiration of his partner did not comfort Jim. He was suspiciously +near a breakdown. "Why didn't I take another crack at him when I had the +chance?" he whimpered. "I been waitin' all these years, an' now--" + +"I tell you he hasn't a chance in a thousand, Jim. You did the job +thorough. He's got his," + +Prince had been intending to say more, but he changed his mind. Half a +dozen men were coming toward them from the front door. Buck Sanders was +one of them, Quantrell's trooper another. Their manner looked like +business. + +Sanders was the spokesman. "You boys ride for the Flying V Y, don't you?" +he asked curtly. + +"We do," answered Billie, and his voice was just as cold. It had in it +the snap of a whiplash. + +"You came in here to pick trouble with us. Your pardner--Clanton, +whatever his name is--gave it out straight that he was goin' to kill +Roush." + +"He didn't mention you, did he?" + +"The Roush brothers were in our party. We ride for the Lazy S M. We don't +make distinctions." + +"Don't you? Listen," advised Prince. In five sentences he sketched the +cause of the trouble between Jim Clanton and the Roush brothers. "My +bunkie didn't kill any of the Roush clan because they worked for Snaith +and McRobert. He shot them for the reason I've just given you. That's his +business. It was a private feud of his own. You heard what was said +before the shootin' began," he concluded. + +"Tha's what you say. You'll tell us, too, that he got Ranse Roush in a +fair fight. But you've got to show us proof," Sanders said with a sneer. + +"I expect just now you'll have to take my word and his. I'll tell you +this. Ranse Roush was a renegade. He was ridin' with a bunch of bronco +bucks. They attacked the Roubideau place an' we rode--Jim an' I did--to +help Pierre an' his family. We drove the 'Paches off, but they picked up +Miss Pauline while she was out ridin' alone. We took after 'em. I got +wounded an' Jim here went up a gulch lickety-split to catch the red +devils. He got four 'Paches an' one hell-hound of a renegade. Is there a +white man here that blames him for it?" + +When all is said, the prince of deadly weapons at close range is the +human eye. Billie was standing beside his friend, one hand resting +lightly on his shoulder. The cowpuncher was as lithe and clean of build +as a mastiff, but it was the steady candor of his honest eye that spoke +most potently. + +"Naturally you tell a good story," retorted the foreman with dry +incredulity. "It's up to you to come through with an explanation of why +Webb's men have just gunned three of our friends. Your story doesn't make +any hit with me. I don't believe a word of it." + +"You can take it or let it alone. It goes as I've told it," Prince cut +back shortly. + +Another man spoke up. He was a tinhorn gambler of Los Portales and for +reasons of his own foregathered with the Snaith-McRobert faction. "Look +here, young fellow. You may or may not be in this thing deep. I'm willin' +to give you the benefit of the doubt if my friends are. I'd hate to see +you bumped off when you didn't do any of the killin'. All we want is +justice. This is a square town. When bad men go too far we plant 'em on +Boot Hill. Understand? Now you slide out of the back door, slap a saddle +on your bronc, an' hit the high spots out of here," + +"And Clanton?" asked Billie. + +"We'll attend to Clanton's case," + +A faint smile touched the sardonic face of Prince. "What did you ever see +me do to give you the notion that I was yellow, Bancock?" + +"This ain't your affair. You step aside an' let justice--" + +"If those that holler for justice loudest had it done to them there would +be a lot of squealin' outside of hogpens." + +"You won't take that offer, then?" + +"Not this year of our Lord, thank you." + +"You've had your chance. If you turn it down you're liable to go out of +here feet first." + +Not a muscle twitched in the lean, brown face of the young cowpuncher. +"Cut loose whenever you're ready." + +"Hold yore hawsses, friend," advised the ex-guerrilla, not unkindly. +"There's no occasion whatever for you to run on the rope. We are six to +two, countin' the kid, who's got about all he can carry for one day. +We're here askin' questions, an' it's reasonable for you to answer 'em." + +"I have answered 'em. I'll answer all you want to ask. But I'd think you +would feel cheap to come kickin' about that fight. My friend fought fair. +You know best whether your friends did. He took 'em at odds of two to +one, an' at that one of your gunmen hunted cover. What's troublin you, +anyhow? Didn't you have all the breaks? Do you want an open an' shut +cinch?" + +"You're quite a lawyer," replied Dumont, the man who found the climate of +Texas unhealthy. "I reckon it would take a good one to talk himself out +of the hole you're in." + +Billie looked at the man and Dumont decided that he did not have a +speaking part in the scene. He was willing to remain one of the mob. In +point of fact, after what he had seen in the last few minutes, he was not +at all anxious to force the issue to actual battle. A good strong bluff +would suit him a great deal better. Even odds of six to two were not +good enough considering the demonstration he had witnessed. + +"What is it you want? Another showdown?" asked Clanton unexpectedly. + +Quantrell's man laughed. "I never did see such a fire-eater." + +He turned to his companions. "I told you how it would be. We can't prove +a thing against the kid except that he was lookin' for a fight an' got +it. He played the hand that was dealt him an' he played it good. I reckon +we'll have to let him go this time, boys." + +"We'll make a mistake if we do," differed Sanders. + +"You'll make one if you don't," said Prince pointedly. + +He stood poised, every nerve and muscle set to a hair-trigger for swift +action. Of those facing him not one of the six but knew they would have +to pay the price before they could exact vengeance for the death of the +Roush brothers. + +"What's the use of beefing?" grumbled a one-armed puncher in the rear. +"They shot up three of our friends. What more do you want?" + +"Don't be in a hurry, Albeen," advised Billie. "It's easy to start +something. We all know you burn powder quick. You're a sure-enough bad +man. But I've got a hunch it's goin' to be your funeral as well as mine +if once the band begins to play." + +"That so?" replied Albeen with heavy sarcasm. "You talk like you was +holdin' a royal flush, my friend." + +"I'm holdin' a six-full an' Clanton has another. We're sittin' in +strong." + +Dumont proposed a compromise. "Why not just arrest 'em an' hold 'em at +Bluewater till we find whether their story is true?" + +"Bring a warrant along before you try that," Billie countered. "Think we +were born yesterday? No Lazy S M sheriff, judge, an' jury for me, if you +please." + +The old guerrilla nodded. "That's reasonable, too. We haven't got a leg +to stand on, boys. This young fellow's story may be true an' it may not. +All we know is what we've seen. Clanton here took a mighty slim chance of +comin' through alive when he tackled Dave an' Hugh Roush. I wouldn't have +give a chew of tobacco against a week's pay for it. He fought fair, +didn't he? Now he's come through I'll be doggoned if I want to jump on +him again." + +"You're too soft for this country, Reb," sneered Albeen. "Better go back +to Arkansas or wherever you come from." + +"When I get ready. You don't mean right away, Albeen, do you?" demanded +the old-timer sharply. + +"Well, don't hang around all day," said Prince, his eye full in that of +the foreman. "Make up your minds whether you want to jump one man an' a +wounded boy. If you don't mean business I'd like to have a doctor look at +my friend's shoulder." + +Sanders's eyes fell at last before the quiet steadiness of that gaze. +With an oath he turned on his heel and strode from the gambling-hall. His +party straggled morosely after him. The old raider lingered for a last +word. + +"Take a fool's advice, Prince. There's a gunbarrel road leads out of town +for the north. Hit it pronto. Stay with it till you come up with Webb's +herd. You won't see his dust any too soon." + +"I guess you're right, Reb," agreed Prince. + +"You know I'm right. Just now you've got the boys bluffed, but it isn't +going to last. They'll get busy lappin' up drinks. Quite a crowd of town +toughs will join 'em. By night they'll be all primed up for a lynching. +I'd spoil their party if I was you by bein' distant absentees." + +"Soon as I can get Jim's shoulder fixed up we'll be joggin' along if he's +able to travel," promised Billie. + +"Good enough. And I'd see he was able if it was me." + + + + +Chapter X + +Bud Proctor Lends a Hand + + +After the doctor had dressed the wounded shoulder he ordered Clanton to +go to bed at once and stay there. "What he needs is rest, proper food, +and sleep. See he gets them." + +"I'll try," said Billie dryly. "Sometimes a fellow can't sleep when he's +got a lead pill in him, doctor. Could you give me something to help him +forget the pain an' the fever?" + +The doctor made up some powders. "One every two hours till he gets to +sleep. I'll come and see him in the morning. You're at the Proctor House, +aren't you?" + +"Yes." + +"Is Roush goin' to live?" asked Jim. + +The professional man looked at the boy speculatively. He wondered whether +the young fellow was suffering qualms of conscience. Since he did not +believe in the indiscriminate shooting in vogue on the frontier, he was +willing this youngster should worry a bit. + +"Not one chance for him in a hundred," he replied brusquely. + +"That's good. I'd hate to have to do it all over again. Have you got the +makin's with you, Billie?" Clanton asked evenly. + +"I've got a plain and simple word for such killings," the doctor said, +flushing. "I find it in my Bible." + +"That's where my dad found it too, doctor." + +With which cryptic utterance Clanton led the way out of the office to the +hotel. + +Jimmie lay down dressed on the bed of their joint room while his friend +went down to the porch to announce to sundry loafers, from whom the news +would spread over town shortly, that Clanton had gone to sleep and was on +no account to be disturbed till morning. + +Later in the afternoon Billie might have been seen fixing a stirrup +leather for Bud Proctor, the fourteen-year-old heir of the hotel +proprietor. He and the youngster appeared to be having a bully time on +the porch, but it was noticeable that the cowpuncher, for all his manner +of casual carelessness, sat close to the wall in the angle of an L so +that nobody could approach him unobserved. + +In an admiring trance Bud had followed the two friends from the office of +the doctor. Now he was in the seventh heaven at being taken into +friendship by one of these heroes. At last he screwed up his courage to +refer to the affair at Tolleson's. + +"Say, Daniel Boone ain't got a thing on yore friend, has he? Jiminy, I'd +like to go with you both when you leave town." + +Billie spoke severely. "Get that notion right out of your haid, Bud. +You're goin' to stay right here at home. I'll tell you another thing +while we're on that subject. Don't you get to thinkin' that killers are +fine people. They ain't. Some of 'em aren't even game. They take all +kinds of advantage an' they're a cruel, cold-blooded lot. Never forget +that. I'm not talkin' about Jim Clanton, understand. He did what he +thought he had to do. I don't say he was right. I don't say he was wrong. +But I will say that this country would be a whole lot better off if we'd +all put our guns away." + +Bud sniffed. "If you hadn't had yore guns this mornin' I'd like to know +where you'd 'a' been." + +"True enough. I can't travel unarmed because of Indians an' bad men. +What I say is that some day we'll all be brave enough to go without our +hog-legs. I'll be glad when that day comes." + +"An' when you two went up Escondido Cañon after the Mescaleros that had +captured Miss Roubideau? I heard Dad Wrayburn tellin' all about it at +supper here one night. Well, what if you hadn't had any guns?" persisted +Bud. + +"That would have been tough luck," admitted Prince, holding up the +leather to examine his work. "Learn to shoot if you like, Bud, but +remember that guns aren't made to kill folks with. They're for buffaloes +an' antelope an' coyotes." + +"Didn't you ever kill any one?" + +"Haven't you had any bringin' up?" Billie wanted to know indignantly +"I've a good mind to put you across my knee an' whale you with this +leather. I've a notion to quit you here an' now. Don't you know better +than to ask such questions?" + +"It--it slipped out," whimpered Bud. "I'll never do it again." + +"See you don't. Now I'm goin' to give you a chance to make good with me +an' my friend, Bud. Can you keep a secret?" + +The eyes of the boy began to shine. "Crickey. You just try me, Mr. +Prince." + +"All right. I will. But first I must know that you are our friend." + +"Cross my heart an' hope to die. Honest, I am." + +"I believe you, Bud. Well, the Snaith-McRobert outfit intend to lynch me +an' my friend to-night." + +The face of the boy became all eyes. He was too astonished to speak. + +"Our only chance is to get out of town. Jim is supposed to be so bad I +can't move him. But if you can find an' saddle horses for us we'll slip +out the back door at dusk an' make our get-away. Do you think you can get +us horses an' some food without tellin' anybody what for?" asked the +cowboy. + +"I'll get yore own horses from the corral." + +"No. That won't do. If you saddled them, that would arouse suspicion at +once. You must bring two horses an' tie 'em to the back fence just as if +you were goin' ridin' yourself. Then we'll take 'em when you come into +the house. Make the tie with a slip knot. We may be in a hurry." + +"Gee! This beats 'Hal Hiccup, the Boy Demon,'" crowed Bud, referring to a +famous hero of Nickel Library fame. "I'll sure get you horses all right." + +"I'll make arrangements to have the horses sent back. Bring 'em round +just as it begins to get dark an' whistle a bar of 'Yankee Doodle' when +you get here. Now cut your stick, Bud. Don't be seen near me any more." + +The boy decamped. His face, unable to conceal his excitement at this +blessed adventure which had fallen from heaven upon him, was trying to +say "Golly!" without the use of words. + +During the next hour or two Bud was a pest. Twenty times he asked +different men mysteriously what o'clock it was. When he was sent to the +store for pickles he brought back canned tomatoes. Set to weeding onions, +he pulled up weeds and vegetables impartially. A hundred times he cast a +longing glance at the westering sun. + +So impatient was he that he could not quite wait till dusk. He slipped +around to the Elephant Corral by a back way and picked out two horses +that suited him. Then he went boldly to the owner of the stable. + +"Mr. Sanders sent me to bring to him that sorrel and the white-foot bay. +Said you'd know his saddle. It doesn't matter which of the other saddles +you use." + +Ten minutes later Bud was walking through the back yard of the hotel +whistling shrilly "Yankee Doodle." It happened that his father was an +ex-Confederate and "Dixie" was more to the boy's taste, but he enjoyed +the flavor of the camouflage he was employing. It fitted into his new +role of Bud Proctor, Scout of the Pecos. + +The fugitives slipped down the back stairway of the Proctor House and +into the garden. In another moment they were astride and moving out to +the sparsely settled suburbs of town. + +"Did you notice the brand on the horse you're ridin', Jim?" asked Prince +with a grin. + +"Same brand's on your bay, Billie--the Lazy S M. Did you tell that kid to +steal us two horses?" + +"No, but you've said it. I'm on the bronc Sanders rides, and you an' I +are horse-thieves now as well as killers. This certainly gets us in bad." + +"I've a notion to turn back yet," said Jim, with the irritability of a +sick man. "How in Mexico did he happen to light on Snaith-McRobert stock? +Looks like he might have found somethin' else for us." + +"Bud has too much imagination," admitted Prince ruefully. "I'd bet a +stack of blues he picked these hawsses on purpose--probably thought it +would be a great joke on Sanders an' his crew." + +"Well, I don't like it. They've got us where they want us now." + +Billie did not like it either. To kill a man on the frontier then in fair +fight was a misdemeanor. To steal a horse was a capital offense. Many a +bronco thief ended his life at the end of a rope in the hands of +respectable citizens who had in the way of business snuffed out the lives +of other respectable citizens. Both of the Flying VY riders knew that if +they were caught with the stock, it would be of no avail with Sanders to +plead that they had no intention of stealing. Possession would be _prima +facie_ evidence of guilt. + +"It's too late to go back now," Prince decided. + +"We'll travel night an' day till we reach the old man an' have him send +the bones back. I hate to do it, but we have no choice. Anyhow, we might +as well be hanged for stealin' a horse as for anything else." + +They topped a hill and came face to face with a rider traveling town +ward. His gaze took in the animals carrying the fugitives and jumped to +the face of Billie. In the eyes of the man was an expression blended of +suspicion and surprise. He passed with a nod and a surly "'Evenin'." + +"Fine luck we're havin', Billie," commented his friend with a little +laugh. "I give Sanders twenty minutes to be on our trail." + + + + +Chapter XI + +The Fugitives + + +Through the gathering darkness Prince watched the figure of his companion +droop. The slim, lithe body sagged and the shoulders were heavy with +exhaustion. Both small hands clung to the pommel of the saddle. It took +no prophet to see that in his present condition the wounded man would +never travel the gun-barrel road as far as the dust of the Flying V Y +herd. Even by easy stages he could not do it, and with pursuit thundering +at their heels the ride would be a cruel, grilling one. + +"How about pullin' a little strategy on Sanders, Jim? Instead of hittin' +the long trail, let's circle back around the town, strike the river, make +camp, an' lie low in the chaparral. Does that listen good to you?" + +Young Clanton looked at his friend suspiciously. The younger man was +fagged out and in a good deal of pain. The jolting of the pony's +movements jarred the bandages on the wound. Already his fever was high +and he had moments of light-headedness. He knew that his partner was +proposing to jeopardize his own chances of escape in order to take care +of him. + +"No, sir. We'll keep goin' right ahead," he said irritably. "Think I'm a +quitter? Think I'm goin' to lie down on you?" + +"Would I be likely to think that?" asked Billie gently. "What I'm +thinking is that both of us would be better for a good night's rest. Why +not throw off an' camp in the darkness? While we're sleepin' Sanders an' +his posse will be ridin' the hearts out of their horses. It looks like +good business to me to let 'em go to it." + +"No," said Jim obstinately. "No. We'll keep ridin'." + +Prince knew that the other understood what he was trying to do, and that +his pride--and perhaps something better than pride--would not accept +such a sacrifice. Billie said no more, but his mind still wrestled with +the problem before him. It was impossible, while his comrade was so badly +hurt, to hold a pace that would keep them ahead of the Lazy S M riders. +Already Sanders must be gaining on them, and to make matters worse +Clanton drew down to a walk. His high-pitched voice and disjointed +expressions told the older man that he was at the beginning of delirium. + +"What do you mean, standing there and grinnin' at me like a wolf, Dave +Roush? I killed you once. You're dead an' buried. How come you alive +again? Then shoot, both of you! Come out from cover, Hugh Roush." He +stopped, and took the matter up from another angle. "You're a liar, you +coyote. I'm not runnin' away. Two to one ... two to one ... I'll ride +back an' gun you both. I'm a-comin' now." + +He pulled up and turned his horse. Faintly there came to Billie the +thudding of horses' hoofs. In five minutes it would be too late to save +either the sick man or himself. It never occurred to him for a moment to +desert Clanton. Somehow he must get him into the chaparral, and without +an instant's delay. His mind seized on the delirious fancy of the young +fellow. + +"You're sure right, Jim," he said quietly. "I'd go an' gun them too. I'll +ride with you an' see fair play. They're out here in the brush. Come on." + +"No. They're back in town. Leave 'em to me. Don't you draw, Billie." + +"All right. But they're over here to our right. I saw 'em there. Come. +We'll sneak up on 'em so that they can't run when they hear you." + +Billie turned. He swung his horse into the mesquite. His heart was heavy +with anxiety. Would the wounded man accept his lead? Or would his +obstinacy prevail? + +"Here they are. Right ahead here," continued Prince. + +Followed a moment of suspense, then came the crashing of brush as Clanton +moved after him. + +"S-sh! Ride softly, Jim. We don't want 'em to hear us an' get away." + +"Tha's right. Tha's sure right. You said somethin' then, Billie. But +they'll not get away. Haven't I slept on their trail four years? They're +mine at last." + +Prince was drawing him farther from the road. But the danger was not yet +over. As the posse passed, some member of it might hear them, or young +Clanton might hear it and gallop out to the road under the impression he +was going to meet Dave Roush. Billie twisted in and out of the brush, +never for an instant letting his friend pull up. On a moving horse one +cannot hear so distinctly as on one standing still. + +At last Billie began to breathe more easily. The pursuers must have +passed before this. He could give his attention to the sick man. + +Jim was clutching desperately to the saddle-horn. The fever was gaining +on him and the delirium worse. He talked incessantly, sometimes +incoherently. From one subject to another he went, but always he came +back to Dave Roush and his brother. He dared them to stand up and fight. +He called on them to stop running, to wait for him. Then he trailed off +into a string of epithets usually ending in sobs of rage. + +The sickness of the young man tore the heart of his companion. Every +instinct of kindness urged him to stop, make up a bed for the wounded +boy, and let him rest from the agony of travel. But he dared not stop +yet. He had to keep going till they reached a place of temporary safety. + +With artful promises of immediate vengeance upon his enemies, by means of +taunts at him as a quitter, through urgent proddings that reached +momentarily the diseased mind, Prince kept him moving through the brush. +The sweat stood out on the white face of the young fellow shining ghastly +in the moonlight. + +After what seemed an interminable time they could see from a mesa the +lights of Los Portales. Billie left the town well to his right, skirted +the pastures on the outskirts, and struck the river four miles farther +down. + +While they were still a long way from it the boy collapsed completely and +slid from the saddle to which he had so long clung. His friend uncinched +and freed the sorrel, lifted the slack body to his own horse, and walked +beside the animal to steady the lurching figure. + +At the bank of the river he stopped and lifted the body to the ground. It +lay limp and slack where the cowpuncher set it down. Through the white +shoulder dressings a stain of red had soaked. For a moment Billie was +shaken by the fear that the Arizonian might be dead, but he rejected it +as not at all likely. Yet when he held his hand against the heart of the +wounded man he was not sure that he could detect a beating. + +From the river he brought water in his hat and splashed it into the white +face. He undid the shoulder bandages, soaked them in cold water, and +rebound the wound. Between the clenched teeth he forced a few drops of +whiskey from his flask. + +The eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. + +"Where are we, Billie?" the sick man asked; then added: "How did we get +away from 'em?" + +"Went into the brush an' doubled back to the river. I'm goin' to hunt a +place where we can lie hid for a few days." + +"Oh, I'll be all right by mornin'. Did I fall off my hawss?" + +"Yes. I had to turn your sorrel loose. Soon as I've picked a permanent +camp I'll have to let mine go too. Some one would be sure to stumble on +it an' go to guessin'." + +After a moment the sick man spoke quietly. "You're a good pal, Billie. I +haven't known many men would take a long chance like this for a fellow +they hadn't met a month ago." + +"I'm not forgettin' how you rode up Escondido when I asked you to go." + +"You got a lot of sabe, too. You don't go bullin' Into a fight when +there's a good reason for stayin' out. At Tolleson's if you had drawn +yore gun when the shootin' was on, the whole Lazy S M would have pitched +in an' riddled us both. They kept out because you did. That gave me a +chance to come through alive." + +The Texan registered embarrassment with a grin. "Yes, I'm the boy wonder +of the Brazos," he admitted. + +A faint, unexpected gleam of humor lay for a moment in the eyes of the +sick man. "I got you where the wool's short, Billie. I can throw bouquets +at you an' you got to stand hitched because I'm sick. Doc says to humor +me. If I holler for the moon you climb up an' get it." + +"I'll rope it for you," assented the cowpuncher. "How's the game +shoulder?" + +"Hurts like Heligoland. Say, ain't I due for one of them sleep powders +Doc fixed up so careful?" + +His companion gave him one, after which he folded his coat and put it +under the head of Clanton, Over him he threw a saddle blanket. + +"Back soon," he promised. + +The sick man nodded weakly. + +Billie swung to the saddle and turned down the river. Unfortunately the +country here was an open one. Along the sandy shore of the stream the +mesquite was thin. There was no soapweed and very little cactus. The +terrain of the hill country farther back was rougher, more full of +pockets, and covered with heavier brush. But it was necessary for the +fugitives to remain close to water. + +What Prince hoped to find was some sort of cave or overhanging ledge of +shale under which they could lie hidden until Jim's strength returned +sufficiently to permit of travel. The problem would be at best a +difficult one. They had little food, scarce dared light a fire, and +Clanton was in no condition to stand exposure in case the weather grew +bad. Even if the boy weathered the sickness, it would not be possible for +him to walk hundreds of miles in his weakened condition. But this was a +matter which did not press for an answer. Billie intended to cross no +bridges until he came to them. Just now he must focus his mind on keeping +the wounded man alive and out of the hands of his enemies. + +Beyond a bend he came upon a jutting bank that for lack of better might +serve his purpose. He could scoop out a cave in which his partner might +lie protected from the hot midday sun. If he filled the mouth with tumble +weeds during the day they might escape observation for a time. + +When the Texan returned to his friend, he found him in restless slumber. +He tossed to and fro, muttering snatches of incoherent talk. The wound +seemed to pain him even in his sleep, for he moved impatiently as though +trying to throw off some weight lying heavy upon it. + +But when he awoke his mind was apparently clear. He met Billie's anxious +look with a faint, white-lipped smile. To his friend the young fellow had +the signs of a very sick man. It was a debatable question whether to risk +moving him now or take the almost hopeless chance of escaping detection +where they were. + +Prince put the decision on Jim himself. The answer came feebly, but +promptly. + +"Sure, move me. What's one little--bullet in the shoulder, Billie? Gimme +some sleep--an' I'll be up an' kickin'." + +Yet the older man noticed that his white lips could scarcely find +strength to make the indomitable boast. + +Very gently Billie lifted the wounded man and put him on the back of the +cowpony. He held him there and guided the animal through the sand to +the bend. Clanton hung on with clenched teeth, calling on the last ounce +of power in his exhausted body with his strong will. + +"Just a hundred yards more," urged the walking man as they rounded the +bend. "We're 'most there now." + +He lifted the slack body down and put it in the sand. The hands of the +boy were ice cold. The sap of life was low in him. Prince covered him +with the blankets and his coat. He gave him a sup or two of whiskey, then +gathered buffalo chips and made a fire in which he heated some large +rocks. These he tucked in beneath the blankets beside the shivering body. +Slowly the heat warmed the invalid. After a time he fell once more into +troubled sleep. + +Billie drove his horse away and pelted it with stones to a trot. He could +not keep it with him without risking discovery, but he was almost as much +afraid that its arrival in Los Portales might start a search for the +hidden fugitives. There was always a chance, of course, that the bay +would stop to graze on the plains and not be found for a day or two. + +The rest of the night the Texan put in digging a cave with a piece of +slaty shale. The clay of the bank was soft and he made fair progress. The +dirt he scooped out was thrown by him into the river. + + + + +Chapter XII + +The Good Samaritan + + +A girl astride a buckskin pony rode down to the river to water her mount. +She carried across the pommel of her saddle a small rifle. Hanging from +the cantle strings was a wild turkey she had shot. + +It was getting along toward evening and she was on her way back to Los +Portales. The girl was a lover of the outdoors and she had been hunting +alone. In the clear, amber light of afternoon the smoke of the town rose +high into the sky, though the trading post itself could not be seen until +she rounded the bend. + +As her horse drank, a strange thing happened. At a point directly +opposite her a bunch of tumble weeds had gathered against the bank of the +shrunken stream. Something agitated them, and from among the brush the +head and shoulders of a man projected. + +Without an instant of delay the girl slipped from the pony and led it +behind a clump of mesquite. Through this she peered intently, watching +every move of the man, who had by this time come out into the open. He +went down to the river, filled his hat with water, and disappeared among +the tumble weeds, gathering them closely to conceal the entrance of his +cave. + +The young woman remounted, rode downstream an eighth of a mile, splashed +through to the other side, and tied her pony to a stunted live-oak. Rifle +in hand she crept cautiously along the bank and came to a halt behind a +cottonwood thirty yards from the cave. Here she waited, patiently, +silently, as many a time she had done while stalking the game she was +used to hunting. + +The minutes passed, ran into an hour. The westering sun slid down close +to the horizon's edge. Still the girl held her vigil. At last the brush +moved once more and the man reappeared. His glance swept the landscape, +the river-bank, the opposite shore. Apparently satisfied, he came out +from his hiding-place, and began to gather brush for a fire. + +He was stooped, his back toward her, when the voice of the girl startled +him to rigidity. + +"Hands in the air!" + +He did not at once obey. His head turned to see who this Amazon might be. + +"Can't you hear? Reach for the sky!" she ordered sharply. + +She had risen and stepped from behind the tree. He could see that she was +dark, of a full, fine figure, and that her steady black eyes watched him +without the least fear. The rifle in her hands covered him very steadily. + +His hands went up, but he could not keep a little, sardonic smile from +his face. The young woman lowered the rifle from her shoulder and moved +warily forward. + +"Lie down on the sand, face to the ground, hands outstretched!" came her +next command. + +Billie did as he was told. A little tug at his side gave notice to him +that she had deftly removed his revolver. + +"Sit up!" + +The cowpuncher sat up and took notice. Stars of excitement snapped in the +eyes of this very competent young woman. The color beat warmly through +her dark skin. She was very well worth looking at. + +"What's your name?" she demanded. + +"My road brand is Billie Prince," he answered. + +"Thought so. Where's the other man?" + +He nodded toward the cave. + +"Call him out," she said curtly. + +"I hate to wake him. He's been wounded. All day he's been in a high fever +and he's asleep at last." + +For the first time her confidence seemed a little shaken. She hesitated. +"Is he badly hurt?" + +"He'd get well if he could have proper attention, but a wounded man can't +stand to be jolted around the way he's been since he was shot." + +"Do you mean that you think he's going to die?" + +"I don't know." After a moment he added: "He's mighty sick." + +"He ought never to have left town." + +"Oughtn't he?" said Prince dryly. "If you'll inquire you'll find we had a +good reason for leavin'." + +"Well, you're going to have another good reason for going back," she told +him crisply. "I'll send a buckboard for him." + +"Aren't you takin' a heap of trouble on our account?" he inquired +ironically. + +"That's my business." + +"And mine. Are you the sheriff of Washington County, ma'am?" + +A pulse of anger beat in her throat. Her long-lashed eyes flashed +imperiously at him. "It doesn't matter who I am. You'll march to town in +front of my horse." + +"Maybe so." + +The voice of the sick man began to babble querulously. Both of those +outside listened. + +"He's awake," the girl said. "Bring him out here and let me see him." + +Billie had an instinct that sometimes served him well. He rose promptly. + +"Para sirvir usted" ("At your service"), he murmured. + +"Don't try to start anything. I'll have you covered every second." + +"I believe you. It won't be necessary to demonstrate, ma'am." + +The cowpuncher carried his friend out from the cave and put him down +gently in the sand. + +"Why, he's only a boy!" she cried in surprise. + +"He was man enough to go up against half a dozen 'Paches alone to save +Pauline Roubideau," Billie said simply. + +She looked up with quick interest. "I've heard that story. Is it true?" + +"It's true. And he was man enough to fight it out to a finish against two +bad men yesterday." + +"But he can't be more than eighteen." She watched for a moment the flush +of fever in his soft cheeks. "Did he really kill Dave and Hugh Roush? +Or was it you?" + +"He did it." + +"I hate a killer!" she blazed unexpectedly. + +"Does he look like a killer?" asked Prince gently. + +"No, he doesn't. That makes it worse." + +"Did you know that Dave Roush ruined his sister's life in a fiendish +way?" + +"I expect there's another side to that story," she retorted. + +"This boy was fourteen at the time. His father swore him to vengeance an' +Jim followed his enemies for years. He never had a doubt but that he +was doin' right." + +She put her rifle down impulsively. "Why don't you keep his face sponged? +Bring me water." + +The Texan put his hat into requisition again for a bucket. With her +handkerchief the girl sponged the face and the hands. The cold water +stopped for a moment the delirious muttering of the young man. But the +big eyes that stared into hers did not associate his nurse with the +present. + +"I done remembered you, 'Lindy, like I promised. I'm a-followin' them +scalawags yet," he murmured. + +"His sister's name was Melindy," explained Prince. + +The girl nodded. She was rubbing gently the boy's wrist with her wet +handkerchief. + +"It's getting dark," she told Billie in her sharp, decisive way. "Get +your fire lit--a big one. I've got some cooking to do." + +Further orders were waiting for him as soon as he had the camp-fire +going. "You'll find my horse tied to a live-oak down the river a bit. +Bring it up." + +Billie smiled as he moved away into the darkness. This imperious girl +belonged, of course, in the camp of the enemy. She had held him up with +the intention of driving them back to town before her in triumph. But she +was, after all, a very tender-hearted foe to a man stricken with +sickness. It occurred to the Texan that through her might lie a way of +salvation for them both. + +Until he saw the turkey the cowpuncher wondered what cooking she could +have in mind, but while he cantered back through the sand he guessed +what she meant to do. + +"Draw the turkey. Don't pick it," she gave instructions. Her own hands +were busy trying to make her patient comfortable. + +After he had drawn the bird, which was a young, plump one, he made under +direction of the young woman a cement of mud. This he daubed in a +three-inch coating over the turkey, then prepared the fire to make of it +an oven. He covered the bird with ashes, raked live coals over these, and +piled upon the red-hot coals piñon knots and juniper boughs. + +"Keep your fire going till about two or three o'clock, then let it die +out. In the morning the turkey will be baked," the young Diana gave +assurance. + +The cowpuncher omitted to tell her that he had baked a dozen more or less +and knew all about it. + +She rose and drew on her gauntlets in a business-like manner. + +"I'm going home now. After the fever passes keep him warm and let him +sleep if he will." + +"Yes, ma'am," promised Billie with suspicious meekness. + +The girl looked at him sharply, as if she distrusted his humility. Was he +laughing at her? Did he dare to find amusement in her? + +"I haven't changed my mind about you. Folks that come to town and start +killing deserve all they get. But I'd look after a yellow dog if it was +sick," she said contemptuously, little devils of defiance in her eyes. + +"I'm not questionin' your motives, ma'am, so long as your actions are +friendly," + +"I haven't any use for any of Homer Webb's outfit. He's got no business +here. If he runs into trouble he has only himself to blame." + +"I'll mention to him that you said so." + +Picking up the rifle, she turned and walked to the horse. There was a +little devil-may-care touch to her walk, just as in her manner, that +suggested a girl spoiled by over-much indulgence. She was imperious, +high-spirited, full of courage and insolence, because her environment had +moulded her to independence. It was impossible for the young cow puncher +to help admiring the girl. + +"I'll be back," she called over her shoulder. + +The pony jumped to a canter at the touch of her Jaeel. She disappeared in +a gallop around the bend. + +Already the fever of the boy was beginning to pass. He shivered with the +chill of night. Billie wrapped around him his own coat, a linsey-woolen +one lined with yellow flannel. He packed him up in the two blankets and +heated stones for his feet and hands. Presently the boy fell into sound +sleep for the first time since he was wounded. He had slept before, but +always uneasily and restlessly. Now he did not mutter between clenched +teeth nor toss to and fro. + +His friend accepted it as a good omen. Since he had not slept a wink +himself for forty hours, he lay down before the fire and made himself +comfortable His eyes closed almost immediately. + + + + +Chapter XIII + +A Friendly Enemy + + +"Law sakes, Miss Bertie Lee, yo' suppah done been ready an hour. Hit sure +am discommodin' the way you go gallumphin' around. Don't you-all nevah +git tired?" + +Aunt Becky was large and black and bulgy. To say that she was fat fails +entirely of doing her justice. She overflowed from her clothes in waves +at all possible points. When she moved she waddled. + +Just now she was trying to be cross, but the smile of welcome on the +broad face would have its way. + +"Set down an' rest yo' weary bones, honey. I'll have yo' suppah dished up +in no time a-tall. Yore paw was axin' where is you awhile ago." + +"Where's dad?" asked Miss Bertie Lee Snaith carelessly as she flung her +gloves on a chair. + +"He done gone down to the store to see if anything been heerd o' them +vilyainous killers of Mr. Webb." + +When Bertie Lee returned from washing her hands and face and giving a +touch or two to her hair, she sat down and did justice to the fried +chicken and biscuits of Aunt Becky. She had had a long day of it and she +ate with the keen appetite of youth. + +Her father returned while she was still at the table. He was a big sandy +man dressed in a corduroy suit. He was broad of shoulder and his legs +were bowed. + +"Any news, dad?" she asked. + +"Not a thing, Lee. I reckon they've made their get-away. They must have +slipped off the road somewhere. The wounded one never could have traveled +all night. Maybe we'll git 'em yet." + +"What will you do with them, if you do?" + +"Hang 'em to a sour apple tree," answered Wallace Snaith promptly. + +His daughter made no comment. She knew that her father's resentment was +based on no abstract love of law and order. It had back of it no feeling +that crime had been committed or justice outraged. The frontier was in +its roistering youth, full of such effervescing spirits that life was the +cheapest thing it knew. Every few days some unfortunate was buried on +Boot Hill, a victim of his own inexpertness with the six-shooter. The +longhorned cattle of Texas were wearing broad trails to the north and the +northwest and such towns as Los Portales were on the boom. Chap-clad +punchers galloped through the streets at all hours of the day and +night letting out their joyous "Eee-yip-eee." The keys of Tolleson's and +half a dozen other gambling places had long since been lost, for the +doors were never closed to patrons. At games of chance the roof was the +limit, in the expressive phrase of the country. Guns cracked at the +slightest difference of opinion. It was bad form to use the word +"murder." The correct way to speak of the result of a disagreement was to +refer to it as "a killing." + +Law lay for every man in a holster on his own hip. Snaith recognized this +and accepted it. He was ready to "bend a gun" himself if occasion called +for it. What he objected to in this particular killing was the personal +affront to him. One of Webb's men had deliberately and defiantly killed +two of his riders when the town was full of his employees. The man had +walked into Tolleson's--a place which he, Snaith, practically owned +himself--and flung down the gauntlet to the whole Lazy S M outfit. It was +a flagrant insult and Wallace Snaith proposed to see that it was avenged. + +"I'm going duck-hunting to-morrow, dad," Lee told him. "I'll likely be up +before daylight, but I'll try not to disturb you. If you hear me +rummaging around in the pantry, you'll know what for." + +He grunted assent, full of the grievance that was rankling in his mind. +Lee came and went as she pleased. She was her own mistress and he made no +attempt to chaperon her activities. + +The light had not yet begun to sift into the sky next morning when Lee +dressed and tiptoed to the kitchen. She carried saddlebags with her and +into the capacious pockets went tea, coffee, flour, corn meal, a flask of +brandy, a plate of cookies, and a slab of bacon. An old frying-pan and a +small stew kettle joined the supplies; also a little package of "yerb" +medicine prepared by Aunt Becky as a specific for fevers. + +Lee walked through the silent, pre-dawn darkness to the stable and +saddled her pony, blanketing and cinching as deftly as her father could +have done it. With her she carried an extra blanket for the wounded man. + +The gray light of dawn was beginning to sift into the sky when she +reached the camp of the fugitives. Prince came forward to meet her. She +saw that the fire was now only a bed of coals from which no smoke would +rise to betray them. + +The girl swung from the saddle and gave a little jerk of her head toward +Clanton. + +"How is he?" + +"Slept like a log all night. Feels a heap better this mo'nin'. Wants to +know if he can't have somethin' to eat." + +"I killed a couple of prairie plover on the way. We'll make some soup for +him." + +The girl walked straight to her patient and looked down at him with +direct and searching eyes. She found no glaze of fever in the ones that +gazed back into hers. + +"Hungry, are you?" + +"I could eat a mail sack, ma'am." + +She stripped the gauntlets from her hands and set about making breakfast. +Jim watched her with alert interest. He was still weak, but life this +morning began to renew itself in him. The pain and the fever had gone and +left him at peace with a world just emerging from darkness into a rosily +flushed dawn. Not the least attractive feature of it was this stunning, +dark-eyed girl who was proving such a friendly enemy. + +Her manner to Billie was crisp and curt. She ordered him to fetch and +carry. Something in his slow drawl--some hint of hidden amusement in +his manner--struck a spark of resentment from her quick eye. But toward +Jim she was all kindness. No trouble was too much to take for his +comfort. If he had a whim it must be gratified. Prince was merely a +servant to wait upon him. + +The education of Jim Clanton was progressing. As he ate his plover broth +he could not keep his eyes from her. She was so full of vital life. The +color beat through her dark skin warm and rich. The abundant blue-black +hair, the flashing eyes, the fine poise of the head, the little jaunty +swagger of her, so wholly a matter of unconscious faith in her place in +the sun: all of these charmed and delighted him. He had never dreamed of +a girl of such spirit and fire. + +It was inevitable that both he and Billie should recall by contrast +another girl who had given them generously of her service not long since. +There were in the country then very few women of any kind. Certainly +within a radius of two hundred miles there was no other girl so popular +and so attractive as these two. Many a puncher would have been willing to +break an arm for the sake of such kindness as had been lavished upon +these boys. + +By sunup the three of them had finished breakfast. Billie put out the +fire and scattered the ashes in the river. He went into a committee of +ways and means with Lee Snaith just before she returned to town. + +"You can't stay here long. Some one is sure to stumble on you just as I +did. What plan have you to get away?" + +"If I could get our horses in three or four days mebbe Jim could make out +to ride a little at a time." + +"He couldn't--and you can't get your horses," she vetoed. + +"Then I'll have to leave him, steal another horse, and ride through to +Webb for help." + +"No. You mustn't leave him. I'll see if I can get a man to take a message +to your friends." + +A smile came out on his lean, strong face. "You're a good friend." + +"I'm no friend of yours," she flashed back. "But I won't have my father +spoiling the view by hanging you where I might see you when I ride." + +"You're Wallace Snaith's daughter, I reckon." + +"Yes. And no man that rides for Homer Webb can be a friend of mine." + +"Sorry. Anyhow, you can't keep me from being mighty grateful to my +littlest enemy." + +He did not intend to smile, but just a hint of it leaped to his eyes. She +flushed angrily, suspecting that he was mocking her, and swung her pony +toward town. + +On the way she shot a brace of ducks for the sake of appearances. The +country was a paradise for the hunter. On the river could be found great +numbers of ducks, geese, swans, and pelicans. Of quail and prairie +chicken there was no limit. Thousands of turkeys roosted in the timber +that bordered the streams. There were times when the noise of pigeons +returning to their night haunt was like thunder and the sight of them +almost hid the sky. Bands of antelope could be seen silhouetted against +the skyline. As for buffalo, numbers of them still ranged the plains, +though the day of their extinction was close at hand. No country in the +world's history ever offered such a field for the sportsman as the +Southwest did in the days of the first great cattle drives. + +Miss Bertie Lee dismounted at a store which bore the sign + +SNAITH & McROBERT +General Merchandise + +Though a large building, it was not one of the most recent in town. It +was what is known as a "dugout" in the West, a big cellar roofed over, +with side walls rising above the level of the ground. In a country where +timber was scarce and the railroad was not within two hundred miles, a +sod structure of this sort was the most practicable possible. + +The girl sauntered in and glanced carelessly about her. Two or three +chap-clad cowboys were lounging against the counter watching another buy +a suit of clothes. The wide-brimmed hats of all of them came off +instantly at sight of her. The frontier was rampantly lawless, but +nowhere in the world did a good woman meet with more unquestioning +respect. + +"What's this hyer garment?" asked the brick-red customer of the clerk, +holding up the waistcoat that went with the suit. + +"That's a vest," explained the salesman. "You wear it under the coat." + +"You don't say!" The vaquero examined the article curiously and +disdainfully. "I've heard tell of these didoes, but I never did see one +before. Well, I'll take this suit. Wrap it up. You keep the vest +proposition and give it to a tenderfoot." + +No cowpuncher ever wore a waistcoat. The local dealers of the Southwest +had been utterly unable to impress this fact upon the mind of the Eastern +manufacturer. The result was that every suit came in three parts, one of +which always remained upon the shelf of the store. Some of the supply +merchants had several thousand of these articles de luxe in their stock. +In later years they gave them away to Indians and Mexicans. + +"Do you know where Jack Goodheart is?" asked Lee of the nearest youth. + +"No, ma'am, but I'll go hunt him for you," answered the puncher promptly. + +"Thank you." + +Ten minutes later a bronzed rider swung down in front of the Snaith home. +Miss Bertie Lee was on the porch. + +"You sent for me," he said simply. + +"Do you want to do something for me?" + +"Try me." + +"Will you ride after Webb's outfit and tell him that two of his men are +in hiding on the river just below town. One of them is wounded and can't +sit a horse. So he'd better send a buckboard for him. Let Homer Webb know +that if dad or Sanders finds these men, the cottonwoods will be bearing a +new kind of fruit. Tell him to burn the wind getting here. The men are in +a cave on the left-hand side of the river going down. It is just below +the bend." + +Jack Goodheart did not ask her how she knew this or what difference it +made to her whether Webb rescued his riders or not. He said, "I'll be on +the road inside of twenty minutes." + +Goodheart was a splendid specimen of the frontiersman. He was the best +roper in the country, of proved gameness, popular, keen as an Italian +stiletto, and absolutely trustworthy. Since the first day he had seen her +Jack had been devoted to the service of Bertie Lee Snaith. No dog could +have been humbler or less critical of her shortcomings. The girl despised +his wooing, but she was forced to respect the man. As a lover she had no +use for Goodheart; as a friend she was always calling upon him. + +"I knew you'd go, Jack," she told him. + +"Yes, I'd lie down and make of myself a door-mat for you to trample on," +he retorted with a touch of self-contempt. "Would you like me to do it +now?" + +Lee looked at him in surprise. This was the first evidence he had ever +given that he resented the position in which he stood to her. + +"If you don't want to go I'll ask some one else," she replied. + +"Oh, I'll go." + +He turned and strode to his horse. For years he had been her faithful +cavalier and he knew he was no closer to his heart's desire than when he +began to serve. The first faint stirrings of rebellion were moving in +him. It was not that he blamed her in the least. She was scarcely +nineteen, the magnet for the eyes of all the unattached men in the +district. Was it reasonable to suppose that she would give her love to a +penniless puncher of twenty-eight, lank as a shad, with no recommendation +but honesty? None the less, Jack began to doubt whether eternal patience +was a virtue. + + + + +Chapter XIV + +The Gun-Barrel Road + + +Jack Goodheart followed the gun-barrel road into a desert green and +beautiful with vegetation. Now he passed a blooming azalea or a yucca +with clustering bellflowers. The prickly pear and the cat-claw clutched +at his chaps. The arrowweed and the soapweed were everywhere, as was also +the stunted creosote. The details were not lovely, but in the sunset +light of late afternoon the silvery sheen of the mesquite had its own +charm for the rider. + +Back of the saddle he carried a "hot roll" of blankets and supplies, for +he would have to camp out three or four nights. Flour, coffee, and a can +of tomatoes made the substance of his provisions. His rifle would bring +him all the meat he needed. The one he used was a seventy-three because +the bullets fired from it fitted the cylinder of his forty-four revolver. + +Solitude engulfed him. Once a mule deer stared at him in surprise from an +escarpment back of the mesa. A rattlesnake buzzed its ominous warning. + +He left the road to follow the broad trail made by the Flying V Y herd. A +horizon of deep purple marked the afterglow of sunset and preceded a +desert night of stars. Well into the evening he rode, then hobbled his +horse before he built a camp-fire. + +Darkness was still thick over the plains when he left the buffalo wallow +in which he had camped. All day he held a steady course northward till +the stars were out again. Late the next afternoon he struck the dust of +the drag in the ground swells of a more broken country. + +The drag-driver directed Goodheart to the left point. He found there two +men, One of them--Dad Wrayburn--he knew. The other was a man of sandy +complexion, hard-faced, and fishy of eye. + +"Whad you want?" the second demanded. + +"I want to see Webb." + +"Can't see him. He ain't here." + +"Where is he?" + +"He's ridden on to the Fort to make arrangements for receiving the herd," +answered the man sulkily. + +"Who's the big auger left?" + +"I'm the foreman, if that's what you mean?" + +"Well, I've come to tell you that two of yore men are hidin' in the +chaparral below Los Portales. There was trouble at Tolleson's. Two of the +Lazy S M men were gunned an' one of yours was wounded." + +"Which one was wounded?" + +"I heard his name was Clanton." + +"Suits me fine," grinned the foreman, showing two rows of broken, stained +teeth. "Hope the Lazy S M boys gunned him proper." + +Dad Wrayburn broke in softly. "Chicto, compadre!" ("Hush, partner!") He +turned to Goodheart. "The other man with Clanton must be Billie Prince." + +"Yes." + +"I reckon the Lazy S M boys are lookin' for 'em." + +"You guessed right first crack out of the box." + +"Where are our boys holed up?" + +"In a cave the other side of town. They're just beyond the big bend of +the river. I'll take you there." + +"You've seen 'em." + +"No." Goodheart hesitated just a moment before he went on. "I was sent by +the person who has seen 'em." + +"Listens to me like a plant," jeered Yankie. + +"Meanin' that I'm a liar?" asked Goodheart coldly. + +"I wasn't born yesterday. Come clean. Who is yore friend that saw the +boys?" + +"I can't tell you that." + +"Then yore story doesn't interest me a whole lot." + +"Different here," dissented Wrayburn. "Do you know how badly Clanton is +hurt, Jack?" + +"No. He was able to ride out of town, but my friend told me to say he +wasn't able to ride now. You'll have to send a wagon for him." + +Wrayburn turned to the foreman. "Joe, we've got to go back an' help the +boys." + +"Not on yore topknot, Dad. I'm here to move these beeves along to the +Fort. Prince an' that Clanton may have gone on a tear an' got into +trouble or they may not. I don't care a plugged nickel which way it is. +I'm not keepin' herd on them, an' what's more I don't intend to." + +"We can't leave 'em thataway. Dad gum it, we got to stand by the boys, +Joe. That's what Webb would tell us if he was here." + +"But he ain't here, Dad. An' while he's gone I'm major-domo of this +outfit. We're headed north, not south." + +"You may be. I'm not. An' I reckon you'll find several of the boys got +the same notion I have. I taken a fancy to both those young fellows, an' +if I hadn't I'd go help 'em just the same." + +"You ain't expectin' to ride our stock on this fool chase, are you?" + +"I'll ride the first good bronc I get my knees clamped to, Joe." + +"As regards that, you'll get my answer like shot off'n a shovel. None of +the Flyin' V Y remuda is goin'." + +Wrayburn cantered around the point of the herd to the swing, from the +swing back to the drag, and then forward to the left point. In the +circuit he had stopped to sound out each rider. + +"We all have decided that ten of us will go back, Joe," he announced +serenely. "That leaves enough to loose-herd the beeves whilst we're +away." + +Yankie grew purple with rage. "If you go you'll walk. I'll show you who's +foreman here." + +"No use raisin' a rookus, Joe," replied the old Confederate mildly. +"We're goin'. Yore authority doesn't stretch far enough to hold us here." + +"I'll show you!" stormed the foreman. "Some of you will go to sleep in +smoke if you try to take any of my remuda." + +"Now don't you-all be onreasonable, Joe. We got to go. Cayn't you get it +through yore cocoanut that we've got to stand by our pardners?" + +"That killer Clanton is no pardner of mine. I meant to burn powder with +him one of these days myself. If Wally Snaith beats me to it I'm not +goin' to wear black," retorted Yankie. + +"Sho! The kid's got good stuff in him. An' nobody could ask for a squarer +pal than Billie Prince. You know that yore own self." + +"You heard what I said, Dad. The Flyin' V Y horses don't take the back +trail to-day," insisted the foreman stubbornly. + +The wrinkled eyes of Wrayburn narrowed a little. He looked straight at +Yankie. + +"Don't get biggety, Joe. I'm not askin' you or any other man whether I +can ride to rescue a friend when he's in trouble. You don't own these +broncs, an' if you did we'd take 'em just the same." + +The voice of Wrayburn was still gentle, but it no longer pleaded for +understanding. The words were clean-cut and crisp. + +"I'll show you!" flung back the foreman with an oath. + +When the little group of cavalry was gathered for the start, Yankie, +rifle in hand, barred the way. His face was ugly with the fury of his +anger. + +Dad Wrayburn rode forward in front of his party. "Don't git promiscuous +with that cannon of yours, Joe. You've done yore level best to keep us +here. But we're goin' just the same. We-all will tell the old man how +tender you was of his remuda stock. That will let you out." + +"Don't you come another step closeter, Dad Wrayburn!" the foreman +shouted. "I'll let you know who is boss here." + +Wrayburn did not raise his voice. The drawl in it was just as pronounced, +but every man present read in it a warning. + +"This old sawed-off shotgun of mine spatters like hell, Joe. It always +did shoot all over the United States an' Texas." + +There was an instant of dead silence. Each man watched the other +intently, the one cool and determined, the other full of a volcanic fury. +The curtain had been rung up for tragedy. + +A man stepped between them, twirling carelessly a rawhide rope. + +"Just a moment, gentlemen. I think I know a way to settle this without +bloodshed." Jack Goodheart looked first at the ex-Confederate, then at +the foreman. He was still whirling as if from absent-minded habit the +loop of his reata. + +"We're here to listen, Jack. That would suit me down to the ground," +answered Wrayburn. + +The loop of the lariat snaked forward, whistled through the air, dropped +over the head of Yankie, and tightened around his neck. A shot went +wildly into the air as the rifle was jerked out of the hands of its +owner, who came to the earth with sprawling arms. Goodheart ran forward +swiftly, made a dozen expert passes with his fingers, and rose without a +word. + +Yankie had been hog-tied by the champion roper of the Southwest. + + + + +Chapter XV + +Lee Plays a Leading Rôle + + +A man on horseback clattered up the street and drew up at the Snaith +house. He was a sandy-complexioned man with a furtive-eyed, apologetic +manner. Miss Bertie Lee recognized him as one of the company riders named +Dumont. + +"Is yore paw home, Miss Lee?" he asked breathlessly. + +"Some one to see you, dad," called the girl over her shoulder. + +Wallace Snaith sauntered out to the porch. "'Lo, Dumont!" + +"I claim that hundred dollars reward. I done found 'em, Mr. Snaith." + +Lee, about to enter the house, stopped in her tracks. + +"Where?" demanded the cattleman jubilantly. + +"Down the river--hid in a dugout they done built. I'll take you-all +there." + +"I knew they couldn't be far away when that first hawss came in all +blood-stained. Hustle up four or five of the boys, Dumont. Get 'em here +on the jump." In the face of the big drover could be read a grim elation. + +His daughter confronted him. "What are you going to do, dad?" + +"None o' yore business, Lee. You ain't in this," he answered promptly. + +"You're going out to kill those men," she charged, white to the lips. + +"They'll git a trial if they surrender peaceable." + +"What kind of a trial?" she asked scornfully. "They know better than to +surrender. They'll fight." + +"That'll suit me too." + +"Don't, dad. Don't do it," the girl begged. "They're game men. They +fought fair. I've made inquiries. You mustn't kill them like wolves." + +"Mustn't I?" he said stubbornly. "I reckon that's just what I'm goin' to +do. I'll learn Homer Webb to send his bad men to Los Portales lookin' +for trouble. He can't kill my riders an' get away with it." + +"You know he didn't do that. This boy--Clanton, if that's his name--had a +feud with the Roush family. One of them betrayed his sister. Far as I can +find out these Roush brothers were the scum of the earth," Her bosom rose +and fell fast with excitement. + +"Howcome you to know so much about it, girl? Not that it makes any +difference. They may have been hellhounds, but they were my riders. These +gunmen went into my own place an' shot 'em down. They picked the fight. +There's no manner o' doubt about that." + +"They didn't do it on your account. I tell you there was an old feud." + +"Webb thinks he's got the world by the tail for a downhill pull. I'll +show him." + +"Dad, you're starting war. Don't you see that? If you shoot these men +he'll get back by killing some of yours. And so it will go on." + +"I reckon. But I'm not startin' the war. He did that. It was the boldest +piece of cheek I ever heard tell of--those two gunmen goin' into +Tolleson's and shootin' up my riders. They got to pay the price." + +Lee cried out in passionate protest. "It'll be just plain murder, dad. +That's all." + +"What's got into you, girl?" he demanded, seizing her by the arms. The +chill of anger and suspicion filmed his light-blue eyes. "I won't stand +for this kind of talk. You go right into the house an' 'tend to yore own +knittin'. I've heard about enough from you." + +He swung her round by the shoulders and gave a push. + +Lee did not go to her room and fling herself upon the bed in an impotent +storm of tears. She stood thinking, her little fists clenched and her +eyes flashing. Civilization has trained women to feebleness of purpose, +but this girl stood outside of conventional viewpoints. It was her habit +to move directly to the thing she wanted. Her decision was swift, the +action following upon it immediate. + +She lifted her rifle down from the deer-horn rack where it rested and +buckled the ammunition belt around her waist. Swiftly she ran to the +corral, roped her bronco, saddled it, and cinched. As she galloped away +she saw her father striding toward the stable. His shout reached her, but +she did not wait to hear what he wanted. + +The hoofs of her pony drummed down the street. She flew across the desert +and struck the river just below town. The quirt attached to her wrist +rose and fell. She made no allowance for prairie-dog holes, but went at +racing speed through the rabbit weed and over the slippery salt-grass +bumps. + +In front of the cave she jerked the horse to a halt. + +"Hello, in there!" + +The tumble weeds moved and the head of Prince appeared. He pushed the +brush aside and came out. + +"Buenos tardes, señorita. Didn't know you were comin' back again to-day." + +"You've been seen," she told him hurriedly as she dismounted. "Dad's +gathering his men. He means to make you trouble." + +Billie looked away in the direction of the town. A mile or more away he +saw a cloud of dust. It was moving toward them. + +"I see he does," he answered quietly. + +"Quick! Get your friend out. Take my horse." + +He shook his head slowly. "No use. They would see us an' run us down. +We'll make a stand here." + +"But you can't do that. They'll surround you. They'll send for more men +if they need 'em." + +"Likely. But Jim couldn't stand such a ride even if there was a +chance--and there isn't, not with yore horse carryin' double. We'll +hold the fort, Miss Lee, while you make yore get-away into the hills. +An' thank you for comin'. We'll never forget all you've done for us +these days." + +"I'm not going." + +"Not goin'?" + +"I'm going to stay right here. They won't dare to shoot at you if I'm +here." + +"I never did see such a girl as you," admitted Prince, smiling at her. +"You take the cake. But we can't let you do that for us. We can't skulk +behind a young lady's skirts to save our hides. It's not etiquette on the +Pecos." + +The red color burned through her dusky skin. "I'm not doing it for you," +she said stiffly. "It's dad I'm thinking about. I don't want him mixed +up in such a business. I won't have it either." + +"You'd better go to him and talk it over, then." + +"No. I'll stay here. He wouldn't listen to me a minute." + +Billie was still patient with her. "I don't think you'd better stay, Miss +Lee. I know just how you feel. But there are a lot of folks won't +understand howcome you to take up with yore father's enemies. They'll +talk a lot of foolishness likely." + +The cowpuncher blushed at his own awkward phrasing of the situation, yet +the thing had to be said and he knew no other way to say it. + +She flashed a resentful glance at him. Her cheeks, too, flamed. + +"I don't care what they say since it won't be true," she answered +proudly. "You needn't argue. I've staked out a claim here." + +"I wish you'd go. There's still time." + +The girl turned on him angrily with swift, animal grace. "I tell you it's +none of your business whether I go or stay. I'll do just as I please." + +Prince gave up his attempt to change her mind. If she would stay, she +would. He set about arranging the defense. + +Young Clanton crept out to the mouth of the cave and lay down with his +rifle beside him. His friend piled up the tumble weeds in front of him. + +"We're right enough in front--easy enough to stand 'em off there," +reflected Billie, aloud. "But I'd like to know what's to prevent us from +being attacked in the rear. They can crawl up through the brush till +they're right on top of the bank. They can post sharpshooters in the +mesquite across the river so that if we come out to check those snakin' +forward, the snipers can get us." + +"I'll sit on the bank above the cave and watch 'em," announced Lee. + +"An' what if they mistook you for one of us?" asked Prince dryly. + +"They can't, with me wearing a red coat." + +"You're bound to be in this, aren't you?" His smile was more friendly +than the words. It admitted reluctant admiration of her. + +The party on the other side of the river was in plain sight now. Jim +counted four--five--six of them as they deployed. Presently Prince threw +a bullet into the dust at the feet of one of the horses as they moved +forward. It was meant as a warning not to come closer and accepted as +one. + +After a minute of consultation a single horseman rode to the bank of the +stream. + +"You over there," he shouted. + +"It's dad," said Lee. + +"You'd better surrender peaceable. We've come to git you alive or dead," +shouted Snaith. + +"What do you want us for?" asked Prince. + +"You know well enough what for. You killed one of my punchers." + +Clanton groaned. "Only one?" + +"An' another may die any day. Come out with yore hands up." + +"We'd rather stay here, thank you," Billie called back. + +Snaith leaned forward in the saddle. "Is that you over there, Lee?" + +"Yes, dad." + +"Gone back on yore father and taken up with Webb's scalawags, have you?" + +"No, I haven't," she called back. "But I'm going to see they get fair +play." + +"You git out of there, girl, and on this side of the river!" Snaith +roared angrily. "Pronto! Do you hear?" + +"There's no use shouting yourself hoarse, dad. I can hear you easily, and +I'm not coming." + +"Not comin'! D'ye mean you've taken up with a pair of killers, of outlaws +we 're goin' to put out of business? You talk like a--like a--" + +"Go slow, Snaith!" cut in Prince sharply. "Can't you see she's tryin' to +save you from murder?" + +"We're goin' to take those boys back to Los Portales with us--or their +bodies. I don't care a whole lot which. You light a shuck out of there, +Lee." + +"No," she answered stubbornly. "If you're so bent on shooting at some one +you can shoot at me." + +The cattleman stormed and threatened, but in the end he had to give up +the point. His daughter was as obstinate as he was. He retired in +volcanic humor. + +"I never could get dad to give up swearing," his daughter told her new +friends by way of humorous apology. "Wonder what he'll do now." + +"Wait till night an' drive us out of our hole, I expect," replied Prince. + +"Will he wait? I'm not so sure of that," said Jim. "See. His men are +scattering. They're up to somethin'." + +"They're going down to cross the river to get behind us just as you said +they would," predicted Lee. + +She was right. Half an hour later, from her position on the bank above +the cave, she caught a glimpse of a man slipping forward through the +brush. She called to Prince, who crept out from behind the tumble weeds +to join her. A bullet dug into the soft clay not ten inches from his +head. He scrambled up and lay down behind a patch of soapweed a few yards +from the girl. Another bullet from across the river whistled past the +cowpuncher. + +Lee rose and walked across to the bushes where he lay crouched. Very +deliberately she stood there, shading her eyes from the sun as she looked +toward the sharpshooters. Twice they had taken a chance, because of the +distance between her and Prince. She intended they should know how close +she was to him now. + +Billie could not conceal his anxiety for her. "Why don't you get back +where you were? I got as far as I could from you on purpose. What's the +sense of you comin' right up to me when you see they're shootin' at me?" + +"That's why I came up closer. They'll have to stop it as long as I'm +here." + +"You can't stay there the rest of yore natural life, can you?" he +asked with manifest annoyance. Even if he got out of his present danger +alive--and Billie had to admit to himself that the chances did not look +good--he knew it would be cast up to him some day that he had used Lee +Snaith's presence as a shield against his enemies. "Why don't you act +reasonable an' ride back to town, like a girl ought to do? You've been a +good friend to us. There's nothin' more you can do. It's up to us to +fight our way out." + +He took careful aim and fired. A man in the bushes two hundred yards back +of them scuttled to his feet and ran limping off. Billie covered the +dodging man with his rifle carefully, then lowered his gun without +firing. + +"Let him go," said Prince aloud. "Mr. Dumont won't bother us a whole lot. +He's gun-shy anyhow." + +From across the river came a scatter of bullets. + +"They've got to hit closeter to that before they worry me," Jim called to +the two above. + +"I don't think they shot to hit. They're tryin' to scare Miss Lee away," +called down Billie. + +"As if I didn't know dad wouldn't let 'em take any chances with me here," +the girl said confidently "If we can hold out till night I can stay here +and keep shooting while you two slip away and hide. Before morning your +friends ought to arrive." + +"If they got yore message." + +"Oh, they got it. Jack Goodheart carried it." + +The riflemen across the river were silent for a time. When they began +sniping again, it was from such an angle that they could aim at the cave +without endangering those above. Both Clanton and Prince returned the +fire. + +Presently Lee touched on the shoulder the man beside her. + +"Look!" + +She pointed to a cloud of smoke behind them. From it tongues of fire +leaped up into the air. Farther to the right a second puff of smoke could +be seen, and beyond it another and still a fourth jet. + +After a moment of dead silence Prince spoke. "They've fired the prairie. +The wind is blowin' toward us. They mean to smoke us out." + +"Yes." + +"We'll be driven down into the open bed of the river where they can pick +us off." + +The girl nodded. + +"Now, will you leave us?" Billie turned on her triumphantly. He could at +least choose the conditions of the last stand they must make. "They've +called our bluff. It's a showdown." + +"Now I'll go less than ever," she said quietly. + + + + +Chapter XVI + +Three Modern Musketeers + + +The fierce crackling of the flames rolled toward them. The wind served at +least the one purpose of lifting the smoke so that it did not stifle +those on the river-bank. Clanton crept up from the cave and joined them. + +"Looks like we're goin' out with fireworks, Billie," he grinned. + +"That's nonsense," said Lee sharply. "There's a way of escape, if only we +can find it." + +"Blamed if I see it," the young fellow answered. As he looked at her the +eyes in his pale face glowed. "But I see one thing. You're the best +little pilgrim that ever I met up with." + +The heat of the flames came to them in waves. + +"You walk out, climb on yore horse, an' ride down the river, Miss Lee. +Then we'll make a break for cover. You can't do anything more for us," +insisted Prince. + +"That's right," agreed the younger man. "We'll play this out alone. You +cut yore stick an' drift. If we git through I'll sure come back an' thank +you proper some day." + +Recently Lee had read "The Three Musketeers." From it there flashed to +her a memory of the picture on the cover. + +"I know what we'll do," she said, coughing from a swallow of smoke. She +stepped between them and tucked an arm under the elbow of each. "All +for one, and one for all. Forward march!" + +They moved down the embankment side by side to the sand-bed close to the +stream, each of the three carrying a rifle tucked close to the side. From +the chaparral keen eyes watched them, covering every step they took with +ready weapons. Miss Lee's party turned to the right and followed the +river-bed in the direction of Los Portales. For the wind was driving the +fire down instead of up. Those in the mesquite held a parallel course to +cut off any chance of escape. + +Some change of wind currents swept the smoke toward them in great +billows. It enveloped the fugitives in a dense cloud. + +"Get yore head down to the water," Billie called into the ear of the +girl. + +They lay on the rocks in the shallow water and let the black smoke waves +pour over them. Lee felt herself strangling and tried to rise, but a +heavy hand on her shoulder held her face down. She sputtered and coughed, +fighting desperately for breath. A silk handkerchief was slipped over her +face and knotted behind. She felt sick and dizzy. The knowledge flashed +across her mind that she could not stand this long. In its wake came +another dreadful thought. Was she going to die? + +The hand on her shoulder relaxed. Lee felt herself lifted to her feet. +She caught at Billie's arm to steady herself, for she was still queer in +the head. For a few moments she stood there coughing the smoke out of her +lungs. His arm slipped around her shoulder. + +"Take yore time," he advised. + +A second shift of the breeze had swept the smoke away. This had saved +their lives, but it had also given Snaith's men another chance at them A +bullet whistled past the head of Clanton, who was for the time a few +yards from his friends. Instantly he whipped the rifle up and fired. + +"No luck" he grumbled. "My eyes are sore from the smoke. I can't half +see." + +Lee was not yet quite herself. The experience through which she had just +passed had shaken her nerves. + +"Let's get out of here quick!" she cried. + +"Take yore time. There's no hurry," Prince iterated. "They won't shoot +again, now Jim's close to us." + +The younger man grinned, as he had a habit of doing when the cards fell +against him. "Where'd we go? Look, they've headed us off. We can't +travel forward. We can't go back. I expect we'll have to file on the +quarter-section where we are," he drawled. + +A rider had galloped forward and was dismounting close to the river. He +took shelter behind a boulder. + +Billie swept with a glance the plain to their right. A group of horsemen +was approaching. "More good citizens comin' to be in at the finish of +this man hunt. They ought to build a grand stand an' invite the whole +town," he said sardonically. + +A water-gutted arroyo broke the line of liver-bank. Jim, who was limping +heavily, stopped and examined it. + +"Let's stay here, Billie, an' fight it out. No use foolin' ourselves. +We're trapped. Might as well call for a showdown here as anywhere." + +Prince nodded. "Suits me. We'll make our stand right at the head of the +arroyo." He turned abruptly to the girl. "It's got to be good-bye here, +Miss Lee." + +"That's whatever, littlest pilgrim," agreed Clanton promptly. "If you get +a chance send word to Webb an' tell him how it was with us." + +Her lip trembled. She knew that in the shadow of the immediate future red +tragedy lurked. She had done her best to avert it and had failed. The +very men she was trying to save had dismissed her. + +"Must I go?" she begged. + +"You must, Miss Lee. We're both grateful to you. Don't you ever doubt +that!" Billie said, his earnest gaze full in hers. + +The girl turned away and went up through the sand, her eyes filmed with +tears so that she could not see where she was going. The two men entered +the arroyo. Before they reached the head of it she could hear the crack +of exploding rifles. One of the men across the river was firing at them +and they were throwing bullets back at him. She wondered, shivering, +whether it was her father. + +It must have been a few seconds later that she heard the joyous +"Eee-yip-eee!" of Prince. Almost at the same time a rider came splashing +through the shallow water of the river toward her. + +The man was her father. He swung down from the saddle and snatched her +into his arms. His haggard face showed her how anxious he had been. She +began to sob, overcome, perhaps, as much by his emotion as her own. + +"I'll blacksnake the condemned fool that set fire to the prairie!" he +swore, gulping down a lump in his throat. "Tell me you-all aren't hurt, +Bertie Lee.... God! I thought you was swallowed up in that fire." + +"Daddie, daddie I couldn't help it. I had to do it," she wept. "And--I +thought I would choke to death, but Mr. Prince saved me. He kept my +face close to the water and made me breathe through a handkerchief." + +"Did he?" The man's face set grimly again. "Well, that won't save him. As +for you, miss, you're goin' to yore room to live on bread an' water +for a week. I wish you were a boy for about five minutes so's I could +wear you to a frazzle with a cowhide." + +Snaith's intentions toward Clanton and Prince had to be postponed for the +present, the cattleman discovered a few minutes later. When he and Lee +emerged from the river-bed to the bank above, the first thing he saw was +a group of cowpunchers shaking hands gayly with the two fugitives. His +jaw dropped. + +"Where in Mexico did they come from?" he asked himself aloud. + +"I expect they're Webb's riders," his daughter answered with a little sob +of joy. "I thought they'd never come." + +"You thought.... How did you know they were comin'?" + +"Oh, I sent for them," The girl's dark eyes met his fearlessly. A flicker +of a smile crept into them. "I've had the best of you all round, dad. +You'd better make that two weeks on bread and water." + +Wallace Snaith gathered his forces and retreated from the field of +battle. A man on a spent horse met him at his own gate as he dismounted. +He handed the cattleman a note. + +On the sheet of dirty paper was written: + +The birds you want are nesting in a dugout on the river four miles below +town. You got to hurry or they'll be flown. + +J.Y. + +Snaith read the note, tore it in half, and tossed the pieces away. He +turned to the messenger. + +"Tell Joe he's just a few hours late. His news isn't news any more." + + + + +Chapter XVII + +"Peg-Leg" Warren + + +Webb drove his cattle up the river, the Staked Plains on his right. The +herd was a little gaunt from the long journey and he took the last part +of the trek in easy stages. Since he had been awarded the contract for +beeves at the Fort, by Department orders the old receiving agent had been +transferred. The new appointee was a brother-in-law of McRobert and the +owner of the Flying V Y did not want to leave any loophole for rejection +of the steers. + +With the clean blood of sturdy youth in him Clanton recovered rapidly +from the shoulder wound. In order to rest him as much as possible, +Webb put him in charge of the calf wagon which followed the drag and +picked up any wobbly-legged bawlers dropped on the trail. During the +trip Jim discovered for himself the truth of what Billie had said, +that the settlers with small ranches were lined up as allies of the +Snaith-McRobert faction. These men, owners of small bunches of cows, +claimed that Webb and the other big drovers rounded up their cattle in +the drive, ran the road brand of the traveling outfit on these strays, +and sold them as their own. The story of the drovers was different. +They charged that these "nesters" were practically rustlers preying upon +larger interests passing through the country to the Indian reservations. +Year by year the feeling had grown more bitter, That Snaith and McRobert +backed the river settlers was an open secret. A night herder had been +shot from the mesquite not a month before. The blame had been laid upon a +band of bronco Mescaleros, but the story was whispered that a "bad +man" in the employ of the Lazy S M people, a man known as "Mysterious +Pete Champa," boasted later while drunk that he had fired the shot. + +Jim had heard a good deal about this Mysterious Pete. He was a killer of +the most deadly kind because he never gave warning of his purpose. The +man was said to be a crack shot, quick as chain lightning, without the +slightest regard for human life. He moved furtively, spoke little when +sober, and had no scruples against assassination from ambush. Nobody in +the Southwest was more feared than he. + +This man crossed the path of Clanton when the herd was about fifty miles +from the Fort. + +The beeves had been grazing forward slowly all afternoon and were +loose-bedded early for the night. Cowpunchers are as full of larks as +schoolboys on a holiday. Now they were deciding a bet as to whether +Tim McGrath, a red-headed Irish boy, could ride a vicious gelding that +had slipped into the remuda. Billie Prince roped the front feet of the +horse and threw him. The animal was blindfolded and saddled. + +Doubtful of his own ability to stick to the seat, Tim maneuvered the +buckskin over to the heavy sand before he mounted. The gelding went +sun-fishing into the air, then got his head between his legs and gave his +energy to stiff-legged bucking. He whirled as he plunged forward, went +round and round furiously, and unluckily for Tim reached the hard ground. +The jolts jerked the rider forward and back like a jack-knife without a +spring. He went flying over the head of the bronco to the ground. + +The animal, red-eyed with hate, lunged for the helpless puncher. A second +time Billie's rope snaked forward. The loop fell true over the head of +the gelding, tightened, and swung the outlaw to one side so that his +hoofs missed the Irishman. Tim scrambled to his feet and fled for safety. + +The cowpunchers whooped joyously. In their lives near-tragedy was too +frequent to carry even a warning. Dad Wrayburn hummed a stanza of +"Windy Bill" for the benefit of McGrath: + +"Bill Garrett was a cowboy, an' he could ride, you bet; He said the bronc +he couldn't bust was one he hadn't met. He was the greatest talker that +this country ever saw Until his good old rim-fire went a-driftin' down +the draw." + +Two men had ridden up unnoticed and were watching with no obvious +merriment the contest. Now one of them spoke. + +"Where can I find Homer Webb?" + +Dad turned to the speaker, a lean man with a peg-leg, brown as a Mexican, +hard of eye and mouth. The gray bristles on the unshaven face advertised +him as well on into middle age. Wrayburn recognized the man as "Peg-Leg" +Warren, one of the most troublesome nesters on the river. + +"He's around here somewhere." Dad turned to Canton. "Seen anything of the +old man, Jim?" + +"Here he comes now." + +Webb rode up to the group. At sight of Warren and his companion the face +of the drover set. + +"I've come to demand an inspection of yore herd," broke out the nester +harshly. + +"Why demand it? Why not just ask for it?" cut back Webb curtly. + +"I'm not splittin' words. What I'm sayin' is that if you've got any of my +cattle here I want 'em." + +"You're welcome to them." Webb turned to his segundo. "Joe, ride through +the herd with this man. If there's any stock there with his brand, +cut 'em out for him. Bring the bunch up to the chuck wagon an' let me see +'em before he drives 'em away." + +The owner of the Flying V Y brand wasted no more words. He swung his +cowpony around and rode back to the chuck wagon to superintend the +jerking of the hind quarters of a buffalo. + +He was still busy at this when the nester returned with half a dozen +cattle cut out from the herd. In those days of the big drives many strays +drifted by chance into every road outfit passing through the country. It +was no reflection on the honesty of a man to ask for an inspection and to +find one's cows among the beeves following the trail. + +Webb walked over to the little bunch gathered by Warren and looked over +each one of the steers. + +"That big red with the white stockin's goes with the herd. The rest may +be yours," the drover said. + +"The roan's mine too. My brand's the Circle Diamond. See here where it's +been blotted out." + +"I bought that steer from the Circle Lazy H five hundred miles from here. +You'll find a hundred like it in the herd," returned Webb calmly. + +Warren turned to his companion. "Pete, you know this steer. Ain't it +mine?" + +"Sure." The man to whom Warren had turned for confirmation was a slight, +trim, gray-eyed man. Sometimes the gray of the eyes turned almost +black, but always they were hard as onyx. There was about the man +something sinister, something of eternal wariness. His glance had a habit +of sweeping swiftly from one person to another as if it questioned what +purpose might lie below the unruffled surface. + +Homer Webb called to Prince and to Wrayburn. "Billie--Dad, know anything +about this big red steer?" + +"Know it? We'd ought to," answered Wrayburn promptly. "It's the ladino +beef that started the stampede on the Brazos--made us more trouble than +any ten critters of the bunch." + +"You bought it from the Circle Lazy H," supplemented Billie. + +Peg-Leg Warren laughed harshly. "O' course they'll swear to it. You're +givin' them their job, ain't you?" + +The drover looked at him steadily. "Yes, I'm givin' the boys a job, but I +haven't bought 'em body an' soul, Warren." + +The eyes of the nester were a barometer of his temper. "That's my beef, +Webb." + +"It never was yours an' it never will be." + +"Raw work, Webb. I'll not stand for it." + +"Don't overplay yore hand," cautioned the owner of the trail herd. + +Clanton had ridden up and was talking to the cook. A couple of other +punchers had dropped up to the chuck wagon, casually as it were. + +Warren glared at them savagely, but swallowed his rage. "It's yore say-so +right now, but I'll collect what's comin' to me one of these days. You're +liable to find this trail hotter 'n hell with the lid on." + +"I'm not lookin' for trouble, but I'm not runnin' away from it," returned +Webb evenly. + +"You're sure goin' to find it--a heap more of it than you can ride herd +on. That right, Pete?" + +The gray-eyed man nodded slightly. Mysterious Pete had the habit of +taciturnity. His gaze slid in a searching, sidelong fashion from Webb to +Prince, on to Wrayburn, across to Clanton, and back to the drover. No +wolf in the encinal could have been warier. + +"Cut out the roan," ordered Webb. + +The ladino was separated from the bunch of Circle Diamond cattle. Warren +and his satellite drove the rest from the camp. + +"War, looks like," commented Dad Wrayburn. + +"Yes," agreed the drover. "I wish it didn't have to be. But Peg-Leg +called for a showdown. He came here to force my hand. As regards the +beef, he might have had it an' welcome. But that wouldn't have satisfied +him. He'd have taken it for a sign of weakness if I had given way." + +"What will he do?" asked young McGrath. + +"I don't know. We'll have to keep our eyes open every minute of the day +an' night. Are you with me, boys?" + +Tim threw his hat into the air and let out a yell. "Surest thing you +know." + +"Damfidon't sit in an' take a hand," said Wrayburn. + +One after another agreed to back the boss. + +"But don't think it will be a picnic," urged Webb. "We'll know we've been +in a fight before we get through. With a crowd of gunmen like Mysterious +Pete against us we'll have hard travelin'. I'd side-step this if I could, +but I can't." + + + + +Chapter XVIII + +A Stampede + + +Clanton took his turn at night herding for the first time the day of +Warren's visit to the camp. Under a star-strewn sky he circled the +sleeping herd, humming softly a stanza of a cowboy song. Occasionally he +met Billie Prince or Tim McGrath circling in the opposite direction. The +scene was peaceful as old age and beautiful as a fairy tale. For under +the silvery light of night the Southwest takes on a loveliness foreign to +it in the glare of the sun. The harsh details of day are lost in a +luminous glow of mystic charm. + +Jim had just ridden past Billie when the silence was shattered by a +sudden fury of sound. The popping of revolvers, the clanging of cow +bells, the clash of tin boilers--all that medley of discord which lends +volume to the horror known as a charivari--tore to shreds the harmony of +the night. + +"What's that?" called Billie. + +The hideous dissonance came from the side of the herd farthest from the +camp. Together the two riders galloped toward it. + +"Peg-Leg Warren's work," guessed Clanton. + +"Sure," agreed Billie. "Trying to stampede the herd." + +Already the cattle were bawling in wild terror, surging toward the camp +to escape this unknown danger. Both of the punchers drew their revolvers +and fired rapidly into the herd. It was impossible to check the rush, but +they succeeded in deflecting it from the sleeping men. Before the weapons +were empty, the ground shook with a thunder of hoofs as the herd fled +into the darkness. + +Billie found himself in the van of the stampede. He was caught in the +rush and to save himself from being trampled down was forced to join the +flight. He was the center of a moving sea of backs, so hemmed in that if +his pony stumbled life would be trodden out of him in an instant. Except +for occasional buffalo wallows the ground was level, but at any moment +his mount might break a leg in a prairie-dog hole. + +For the first mile or two the cattle were packed in a dense mass, +shoulder to shoulder, all lumbering forward in wild-eyed panic. The noise +of their hoofs was like the continuous roll of thunder and the cloud of +dust so thick that the throat of Prince was swollen with it. It was only +after the stampeded cattle had covered several miles that the formation +of their aimless charge grew looser. The pace slackened as the steers +became leg-weary. Now and again small bunches dropped from the drag or +from one of the flanks. Gradually Billie was able to work toward the +outskirts. His chance came when the herd poured into a swale and from it +emerged into a more broken terrain. Directly in front of the leaders was +a mesa with a sharp incline. Instead of taking the hill, the stampede +split, part flowing to the right and part to the left. The cow-puncher +urged his flagged horse straight up the hill. + +He had escaped with his life, but the bronco was completely exhausted. +Billie unsaddled and freed the cowpony. He knew it would not wander far +now. Stretched out at full length on the buffalo grass, the cowboy drank +into his lungs the clean, cold night air. His tongue was swollen, his +lips cracked and bleeding. The alkali dust, sifting into His eyes, had +left them red and sore. Every inch of his unshaven face, his hands, and +his clothes was covered with a fine, white powder. For a long drink of +mountain water he would gladly have given a month's pay. + +Within the hour Billie resaddled and took the back trail. There was no +time to lose. He must get back to camp, notify Webb where the stampede +was moving, and join the other riders in an all-night and all-day +round-up of the scattered herd. Since daybreak he had been in the saddle, +and he knew that for at least twenty-four hours longer he would not leave +it except to change from a worn-out horse to a fresh one. + +When Prince reached camp shortly after midnight he found that the +stampede of the cattle had for the moment fallen into second place in the +minds of his companions. They were digging a grave for the body of Tim +McGrath. The young Irishman had been shot down just as the attack on the +herd began. It was a reasonable guess to suppose that he had come face to +face with the raiders, who had shot him on the theory that dead men tell +no tales. + +But the cowpuncher had lived till his friends reached him. He had told +them with his dying breath that Mysterious Pete had shot him without a +word of warning and that after he fell from his horse Peg-Leg Warren rode +up and fired into his body. + +Jim Clanton called his friend to one side. "I'm goin' to sneak out an' +take a lick at them fellows, Billie. Want to go along?" + +"What's yore notion? How're you goin' to manage it?" + +"Me, I'm goin' to bushwhack Warren or some of his killers from the +chaparral." + +Prince had seen once before that cold glitter in the eyes of the hill +man. It was the look that comes into the face of the gunman when he is +intent on the kill. + +"I wouldn't do that if I was you, Jim," Billie advised. "This ain't our +personal fight. We're under orders. We'd better wait an' see what the +old man wants us to do. An? I don't reckon I would shoot from ambush +anyhow." + +"Wouldn't you? I would," The jaw of the younger man snapped tight. +"What chance did they give poor Tim, I'd like to know? He was one of the +best-hearted pilgrims ever rode up the trail, an' they shot him down like +a coyote. I'm goin' to even the score." + +"Don't you, Jim; don't you." Billie laid a hand on the shoulder of his +partner in adventure. "Because they don't fight in the open is no reason +for us to bushwhack too. That's no way for a white man to attack his +enemies." + +But the inheritance from feudist ancestors was strong in young Clanton. +He had seen a comrade murdered in cold blood. All the training of his +primitive and elemental nature called for vengeance. + +"No use beefin', Billie. You don't have to go if you don't want to. But +I'm goin'. I didn't christen myself Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em for nothin'." + +"Put it up to Webb first. Let's hear what he has got to say about it," +urged Prince. "We've all got to pull together. You can't play a lone hand +in this." + +"I'll put it up to Webb when I've done the job. He won't be responsible +for it then. He can cut loose from me if he wants to. So long, Billie. +I'll sleep on Peg-Leg Warren's trail till I git him." + +"Give up that fool notion, Jim. I can't let you go. It wouldn't be fair +to you or to Webb either. We're all in this together." + +"What'll you do to prevent my goin'?" + +"I'll tell the old man if I have to. Sho, kid! Let's not you an' me have +trouble." Billie's gentle smile pleaded for their friendship. "We've been +pals ever since we first met up. Don't go off on this crazy idea like a +half-cocked hogleg." + +"We're not goin' to quarrel, Billie. Nothin' to that. But I'm goin' +through." The boyish jaw clamped tight again. The eyes that looked at his +friend might have been of tempered steel for hardness. + +"No." + +"Yes." + +Clanton was leaning against the rump of his horse. He turned, indolently, +gathered his body suddenly, and vaulted to the saddle. Like a shot he was +off into the night. + +Billie, startled at the swiftness of his going, could only stare after +him impotently. He knew that it would be impossible to find one lone +rider in the darkness. + +Slowly he walked back to the grave. The riders of the Flying V Y were +gathered round in a quiet and silent group. They were burying the body of +him who had been the gayest and lightest-hearted of their circle only a +few hours before. + +As soon as the last shovelful of earth had been pressed down upon the +mound, Webb turned to business. The herd scattered over thirty miles of +country must be gathered at once and he set about the round-up. He had +had bad runs on the trail before and he knew the job before his men was +no easy one. + +They jogged out on a Spanish trot in the trail of the stampede. The chuck +wagon was to meet them at Spring River next morning, where the first +gather of beeves would be brought and held. All night they rode, tough as +hickory, strong as whip-cord. Into the desert sky sifted the gray light +which preceded the coming of day. Banners of mauve and amethyst and topaz +were flung across the horizon, to give place to glorious splashes of +purple and pink and crimson. The sun, a flaming ball of fire, rose big as +a washtub from the edge of the desert. + +In that early morning light crept over the plain little bunches of cattle +followed by brown, lithe riders. Like spokes of a wheel each group moved +to a hub. Old Black Ned, the cook, was the focus of their travel. For at +Spring River he had waiting for them hot coffee, flaky biscuits, steaks +hot from the coals. Each rider seized a tin cup, a tin plate, a knife and +fork, and was ready for the best Uncle Ned had to offer. + +The remuda had been brought up by the wranglers. While the horses milled +about in a cloud of dust, each puncher selected another mount. He +moved forward, his loop trailing, eye fixed on the one pony, out of one +hundred and fifty, that he wanted for the day's work. Suddenly a rope +would snake forward past half a dozen broncos and drop about the neck of +an animal near the heart of the herd. The twisting, dodging cowpony would +surrender instantly and submit to being cut out from the band. Saddles +were slapped on in a hurry and the riders were again on their way. + +Through the mesquite they rode, slackening speed for neither gullies nor +barrancas. Webb gave orders crisply, disposed of his men in such a way +as to make of them a drag-net through which no cattle could escape, and +began to tighten the loops for the drive back to camp. + +By the middle of the afternoon the chuck wagon was in sight. The ponies +were fagged, the men weary. For thirty-six hours these riders, whose +muscles seemed tough as whalebone, had been almost steadily in the +saddle. They slouched along now easily, always in a gray cloud of dust +raised by the bellowing cattle. + +The new gather of cattle was thrown in with those that had been rounded +up during the night. The punchers unsaddled their worn mounts and drifted +to the camp-fire one by one. Ravenously they ate, then rolled up in their +blankets and fell asleep at once. To-night they had neither heart nor +energy for the gay badinage that usually flew back and forth. + +Night was still heavy over the land when Uncle Ned's gong wakened them. +The moon was disappearing behind a scudding cloud, but stars could be +seen by thousands. Across the open plain a chill wind blew. + +All was bustle and confusion, but out of the turmoil emerged order. The +wranglers, already fed, moved into the darkness to bring up the remuda. +Tin cups and plates rattled merrily. Tongues wagged. Bits of repartee, +which are the salt of the cowpuncher's life, were flung across the fire +from one; to another. Already the death of Tim McGrath was falling into +the background of their swift, turbulent lives. After all the cowboy dies +young. Tim's soul had wandered out across the great divide only a few +months before that of others among them. + +Out of the mist emerged the desert, still gray and vague and without +detail. The day's work was astir once more. With the nickering of horses, +the bawling of cattle, and the shouts of men as an orchestral +accompaniment, light filtered into the valley for the drama of the new +sunrise. Once more the tireless riders swept into the mesquite through +the clutching cholla to comb another segment of country in search of the +beeves not yet reclaimed. + +That day's drive brought practically the entire herd together again. A +few had not been recovered, but Webb set these down to profit and loss. +What he regretted most was that the cattle were not in as good condition +as they had been before the stampede. + +The drover spent the next day cutting out the animals that did not belong +to him. Of these a good many had been collected in the round-up. It was +close to evening before the job was finished and the outfit returned to +camp. + +Billie rode up to the wagon with the old man. Leaning against a saddle on +the ground, a flank steak in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, +lounged Jim Clanton. + +Webb, hard-eyed and stiff, looked at the young man, "Had a pleasant +vacation, Clanton?" + +"I don't know as I would call it a vacation, Mr. Webb. I been attending +to some business," explained Jim. + +"Yours or mine?" + +"Yours an' mine." + +"You've been gone forty-eight hours. The rest of us have worked our heads +off gettin' together the herd. I reckon you can explain why you weren't +with us." + +Yellow with dust, unshaven, mud caked in his hair, hands torn by the +cat-claw, Homer Webb was red-eyed from lack of sleep and from the +irritation of the alkali powder. This young rider had broken the first +law of the cowpuncher, to be on the job in time of trouble and to stay +there as long as he could back a horse. The owner of the Flying V Y was +angry clear through at his desertion and he intended to let the boy know +it. + +"I went out to look for Peg-Leg Warren" said Clanton apologetically. + +Webb stopped in his stride. "You did? Who told you to do that?" + +"I didn't need to be told. I've got horse sense myself." Jim spoke a +little sulkily. He knew that he ought to have stayed with his employer. + +"Well, what did you do when you found Peg-Leg--make him a visit for a +couple of days?" demanded the drover with sarcasm. + +"No, I don't know him well enough to visit--only well enough to shoot +at." + +"What's that?" asked Webb sharply. + +"Think I was goin' to let 'em plug Tim McGrath an' get away with it?" +snapped Jim. + +"That's my business--not yours. What did you do? Come clean." + +"Laid out in the chaparral till I got a chance to gun him," the young +fellow answered sullenly. + +"And then?" + +"Plugged a hole through him an' made my get-away." + +"You mean you've killed Peg-Leg Warren?" + +"He'll never be any deader," said Clanton coolly. + +The dark blood flushed into Webb's face. He wasted no pity on Warren. The +man was a cold-hearted murderer and had reaped only what he had sowed. +But this was no excuse for Clanton, who had deliberately dragged the +Flying V Y into trouble without giving its owner a chance to determine +what form retribution should take. The cowpuncher had gone back to +primitive instincts and elected the blood feud as the necessary form of +reprisal. He had plunged Webb and the other drovers into war without even +a by-your-leave. His answer to murder had been murder. To encourage +this sort of thing would be subversive of all authority and would lead to +anarchy. + +"Get yore time from Yankie, Clanton," said his employer harshly. "Sleep +in camp to-night if you like, but hit the trail in the mornin'. I can't +use men like you." + +He turned away and left the two friends alone. + +Prince was sick at heart. He had warned the young fellow and it had done +no good. His regret was for Jim, not for Warren. He blamed himself for +not having prevented the killing of Peg-Leg. Yet he knew he had done all +that he could. + +"I'm sorry, Jim," he said at last. + +"Oh, well! What's done is done." + +But Billie could not dismiss the matter casually. He saw clearly that +Clanton had come to the parting of the ways and had unconsciously made +his choice for life. From this time he would be known as a bad man. The +brand of the killer would be on him and he would have to make good his +reputation. He would have to live without friends, without love, in the +dreadful isolation of one who is watched and feared by all. Prince felt a +great wave of sympathy for him, of regret for so young a soul gone so +totally astray. Surely the cards had been marked against Jim Clanton. + + + + +Chapter XIX + +A Two-Gun Man + + +Webb delivered his beeves at the Fort and endured with what fortitude he +could the heavy cut which the inspector chose to inflict on him. He paid +off his men and let them shift for themselves. Billie secured a wood +contract at the reservation, employed half a dozen men and teams, cleaned +up a thousand dollars in a couple of months, and rode back to Los +Portales in the late fall. + +He had money in his pocket and youth in his heart. The day was waning as +he rode up the street and in the sunlight the shadows of himself and his +horse were attenuated to farcical lengths. Little dust whirls rose in the +road, spun round in inverted cones like huge tops, and scurried out of +sight across the prairie. Horses drowsed lazily in front of Tolleson's, +anchored to the spot by the simple process of throwing the bridle to the +ground. It all looked good to Billie. He had been hard at work for many +months and he wanted to play. + +A voice hailed him from across the street. "Hello, you Billie!" + +Jim Clanton and Pauline Roubideau were coming out of a store. He +descended from his horse and they fell upon him gayly. + +"'Jour, monsieur," the girl cried, and she gave him warmly both her +hands. + +The honest eyes of Billie devoured her. "Didn't know you were within a +hundred miles of here. This is great." + +"We've moved. We live about twenty miles from town now. But I'm in a good +deal because Jean has bought the livery stable," she explained. + +"I'm sure glad to hear that." + +"You're to come and see us to-night. Supper will be ready in an hour. You +bring him, Jim," ordered the girl. "I'll leave you boys alone now. You +must have heaps to talk about." + +The gaze of the cowpuncher followed her as she went down the street light +and graceful as a fawn. Not since spring had he seen her, though in the +night watches he had often heard the sound of her gay voice, seen the +flash of her bright eyes, and recalled the sweet and gallant buoyancy +that was the dear note of her comradeship. + +Billie looked after his horse and walked with Jim to the Proctor House. +His mind was already busy appraising the changes in his friend. Clanton +was now a "two-gun" man. From each hip hung a heavy revolver, the lower +ends of the holsters tied down in order not to interfere with lightning +rapidity of action. The young man showed no signs of nervousness, but his +chill eyes watched without ceasing the street, doors and windows of +buildings, the faces of passers-by and corner loafers. What Prince had +foreseen was coming to pass. He was paying the penalty of his reputation +as a bad man. Already incessant wariness was the price of life for him. + +A second surprise awaited Billie at the Roubideau house. Polly was in the +kitchen and looked out of the door only to wave a big spoon at them as +they approached. Another young woman welcomed them. At sight of Billie a +deep flush burned under her dark skin. It was, perhaps, because of this +sign of emotion that her greeting was very cavalier. + +"You're back, I see!" + +Prince ignored the hint of hostility in her manner. His big hand gripped +her little one firmly. + +"Yes, I'm back, Miss Lee, and right glad to see you lookin' so well. I'll +never forget the last time we met." + +Neither would she, but she did not care to tell him so. The memory of the +adventure by the river-bank recurred persistently. This lean, sunbaked +cowpuncher with the kind eyes and quiet efficiency of bearing had +impressed himself upon her as no other man had. There was a touch of +scorn in her feeling for herself, because she knew she wanted him for her +mate more than anything else on earth. In the night, alone in the +friendly darkness, her hot face pressed into the cool pillows, she +confessed to herself that she loved him and longed for the sight of his +strong, good-looking face with its smile of whimsical humor. But that was +when she was safe from the eyes of the world. Now, to punish herself and +to prevent him from suspecting the truth, she devoted her attention +mainly to Clanton. + +Jim was openly her admirer. He wanted Lee to know it and did not care who +else observed his devotion. Pauline for one guessed the boy's state of +mind and smiled at it, but Billie wondered whether the smile hid an +aching heart. He knew that little Polly had a very tender feeling for the +boy who had saved her life. More than once during supper it seemed to him +that her soft eyes yearned for the reckless young fellow talking so gayly +to Miss Snaith. The conviction grew in Prince--it found lodgment in his +mind with a pang of despair--that the girl he cared for had given her +love to his friend. He fought against the thought, tried resolutely to +push it from him, but again and again it returned. + +Not until supper was well under way did Jean Roubideau come in from the +corral. He shook hands with Billie and at the same time explained to +Polly his tardiness. + +"Billie is not the only stranger in town to-night. Two or three blew in +just before I left and kept me a few minutes. That Mysterious Pete Champa +was one. You know him, don't you, Jim?" + +The question was asked carelessly, casually, but Prince read in it a +warning to his friend. It meant that he was to be ready for any emergency +which might arise. + +After they had eaten Billie went out to the porch to smoke with Jean. + +"Is there goin' to be trouble between Mysterious Pete an' Jim?" he asked. + +"Don't know. Wouldn't wonder if that was why Champa came to town. If I +was Jim I'd keep an eye in the back of my head when I walked. It's a +cinch Pete will try to get him--if he tries it at all--with all the +breaks in his favor." + +"Is it generally known that Jim was the man who killed Warren?" + +"Yes." Jean stuffed and lit his pipe before he, said anything more. "The +kid can't get away from it now. Folks think of him as a killer. They +watch him when he comes into a bar-room an' they're careful not to cross +him. He's a bad man whether he wants to be or not." + +Billie nodded. "I was afraid it would be that way, but I'm more afraid of +somethin' else. The worst thing that can happen to any man, except to +get killed himself, is to shoot another in cold blood. 'Most always it +gives the fellow a cravin' to kill again. Haven't you noticed it? A kind +of madness gets into the veins of a killer." + +"Sure I've noticed it. He has to be watchin'--watchin'--watchin' all the +time to make sure nobody gits him. His mind is on that one idea every +minute. Consequence is, he's always ready to shoot. So as not to take any +chances, he makes it a habit to be sudden death with a six-gun." + +"That's it. Most of 'em are sure-thing killers. Jim's not like that. He's +game as they make 'em. But I'd give every cent I'm worth if he hadn't +gone out an' got Peg-Leg," + +"He never had any bringin' up, or at least he had the wrong kind." He +listened a moment with a little smile. From the kitchen, where Jim was +helping the young women wash the dishes, came a murmur of voices and +occasionally a laugh. "Funny how all good women are mothers in their +hearts. Polly's tryin' to save that boy from himself, an' I reckon maybe +Miss Lee is too. In a way they got no business to have him here at all. I +like him. That ain't the point. But he's got off wrong foot first. He's +declared himself out of their class." + +"And yore sister won't see it that way?" + +"Not a bit of it. She's goin' to fight for his soul, as you might say, +an' bring him back if she can do it. Polly's a mighty loyal little +friend, if I am her brother that tells it." + +"She's right," decided Prince. "It can't hurt her any. Nothin' that's +wrong can do her any harm, because she's so fine she sees only the good. +An' it's certainly goin' to do the kid good to know her." + +"If he'd git out of here he might have a chance yet. But he won't. An' +when he meets up with Champa or Dave Roush he's got to forget mighty +prompt everything that Polly has told him." + +"I heard Roush was on the mend. Is he up again?" + +"Yes. He had a narrow squeak, but pulled through. Roush rode into town +with Mysterious Pete to-night." + +"Then they've probably come to gun Jim. I'll stay right with him for a +day or two if I can." + +"What for?" demanded Roubideau bluntly. "You're not in this thing. You've +got no call to mix up in it. The boy saved Polly, an' I'll go this far. +If I'm on the spot when he meets Champa or Roush--an' I'll try to be +there--I won't let'em both come at him without takin' a hand. But he +has got to choose his own way in life. I can't stand between him an' the +consequences of his acts. He's got to play his own hand." + +"Did Dave Roush an' Mysterious Pete seem pretty friendly?" + +"Thicker than three in a bed." + +"Looks bad." Billie came to another phase of the situation. "How does it +happen that Snaith's outfit have let Jim stay here without gettin' after +him? Nothin' but a necktie party would suit 'em when we left in the +spring." + +"Times have changed," explained Roubideau. "This is quite a trail town +now. The big outfits are bringin' in a good deal of money. Snaith can't +run things with so high a hand as he did. Besides, there are a good many +of the trail punchers in town now. I reckon Wally Snaith has given orders +not to start anything." + +"Maybe Roush an' Champa have been given orders to take care of Jim." + +Jean doubted this and said so. "Snaith doesn't play his hand under the +table. But, of course, Sanders may have tipped 'em off to do it." + +Clanton joined them presently and the three men walked downtown. The gay +smile dropped from Jim's face the moment he stepped down from the porch. +Already his eyes had narrowed and over them had come a kind of film. They +searched every dark spot on the road. + +"Let's go to Tolleson's," he proposed abruptly. + +There was a moment of silence before Billie made a counter-proposition. +"No, let's go back to the hotel." + +"All right. You fellows go to the hotel. Meet you there later." + +The eyes of Prince and Roubideau met. Not another word was spoken. Both +of them knew that Clanton intended to show himself in public where any +one that wanted him might find him. They turned toward Tolleson's, but +took the precaution to enter by the back door. + +The sound of shuffling feet, of tinkling piano and whining fiddle, gave +notice in advance that the dancers were on the floor. Clanton took the +precaution to ease the guns in their holsters in order to make sure of a +swift draw. + +His forethought was unnecessary. Neither Roush nor Mysterious Pete was +among the dancers, the gamblers, or at the bar. The three friends passed +out of the front door and walked to the Proctor House. Clanton had done +all that he felt was required of him and was willing to drop the matter +for the night. + + + + +Chapter XX + +Exit Mysterious Pete + + +In the cold, gray dawn of the morning after, Mysterious Pete straddled +down the main street of Los Portales with a dark-brown taste in his +mouth. He was feeling ugly. For he had imbibed a large quantity of +liquor. He had gambled and lost. He had boasted of what he intended to do +to one James Clanton, now generally known as "Go-Get-'Em Jim," + +This last in particular was a mistake. Moreover, it was quite out of +accord with the usual custom of Mr. Champa. When he made up his mind to +increase by one the number of permanent residents upon Boot Hill he bided +his time, waited till the suspicions of his victim were lulled, and shot +down his man without warning. The one fixed rule of his life was never to +take an unnecessary chance. Now he was taking one. + +Every chain has its weakest link. Mr. Champa drunk was a rock upon which +Mr. Champa sober had more than once come to shipwreck. No doubt some +busybody, seeking to curry favor with him, had run to this Clanton with +the tale of how Mysterious Pete had sworn to kill him on sight. + +The bad man was sour on the world this morning. He prided himself on +being always a dead shot, but such a night as he had spent would not help +his chances. There could be no doubt that his nerves were jumpy. What he +needed was a few hours' sleep. + +He would have taken a back street if he had dared, but to do so would +have been a confession of doubt. The killer can afford to let nobody +guess that he is afraid. When such a suspicion becomes current he might +as well order his coffin. The men whom he holds in the subjection of fear +will all be taking a chance with him. + +So Mysterious Pete, bad man and murderer, coward at heart to the marrow, +strutted toward his rooming-house with a heart full of hate to everybody. +The pleasant morning sunshine was an offense to him. A care-free laugh on +the breeze made him grit his teeth irritably. Particularly he hated Dave +Roush. For Roush had led him into this cunningly by bribery and flattery. +He had fed the jealousy of Pete, who could not brook the thought of a +rival bad man in his own territory. He had hinted that perhaps Champa had +better steer clear of this youth, whose reputation as a killer had grown +so amazingly. Ever since Clanton had killed Warren the bad man had +intended to "get him." But he had meant to do it without taking any risk. +His idea was to pretend to be his friend, push a gun into his stomach, +and down him before he could move. Now by his folly he had to take a +fighting chance. Dave Roush, to save his own skin, had pushed him into +danger. All this was quite clear to him now, and he raged at the +knowledge. + +Champa, too, was at another disadvantage. He was not sure that he would +know Clanton when he saw him. He had set eyes on the young fellow once, +on that occasion when he had gone with Warren to demand an inspection of +the Flying V Y herd. But he had seen him only as one of a group of +cowpunchers and not as an individual enemy, whereas it was quite certain +that Go-Get-'Em Jim would recognize him. + +From out of a doorway stepped a young fellow with his hand on his hip. +Pete's six-gun flashed upward in a quarter curve even as the bullet +crashed on its way. The youth staggered against the wall and sank +together into a heap. Champa, every sense alert, fired again, then waited +warily to make sure this was not a ruse of his victim. + +Some one--a woman--darted from a building opposite, flew across the +street, and dropped beside the crumpled figure. Her white skirt covered +the body like a protecting flag. + +The dark eyes in the white face lifted toward Champa were full of horror, +"You murderer! You've killed little Bud Proctor!" cried the young woman. + +He took an uncertain step or two toward her. Mysterious Pete knew that if +this were true, his race was run. + +"Goddlemighty, Miss Snaith! I swear I thought it was Clanton. He was +drawing a gun on me." + +Lee drew the boy to her bosom so that her body was between the killer and +his victim. A swift, up-blazing, maternal fury seemed to leap from her +face. + +"Don't come any nearer! Don't you dare!" she cried. + +The man's covert glance swept round. Already men were peering out of +doors and windows to see what the shooting was about. Soon the street +would be full of them, all full of deadly fury at him. He backed away, +snarling, cut across a vacant lot, and ran to his room. The bolt in his +door was no sooner closed than he knew it could not protect him. There +comes a time in the career of a large percentage of bad men when some +other hard citizen on behalf of the public puts a period to it. He is +wiped out, not for what he has done only, but for fear also of what he +may do. The only safety for him now was to get out of the country as fast +as a house could carry him. Instinctively Mysterious Pete recognized this +now and cursed his folly for not going straight to a corral. + +If he hurried he might still make his get-away, He reloaded his revolver, +opened the door of his room, and listened. Cautiously he stole downstairs +and out the back door of the building. A little girl was playing at +keeping house in a corner of the yard. Scarcely more than a baby herself, +she was vigorously spanking a doll. + +"Be dood. You better had be dood," she admonished. + +A crafty idea came into the cunning brain of the outlaw. She would serve +as a protection against the bullets of his enemies. He caught her up and +carried her, kicking and screaming, while he ran to the Elephant Corral. + +"Saddle me a horse. Jump!" ordered the fugitive, his revolver out. + +The trembling wrangler obeyed. He did not know the cause of Mysterious +Pete's urgency fact was enough. He knew that this man with the bad record +was flying in fear of his life. Tiny sweat beads stood out on his +forehead. The fellow was in a blue funk and would shoot at the least +pretext. + +The saddle that the wrangler flung on the horse he had roped was a Texas +one with double cinches. In desperate haste to be gone, Champa released +the child a moment to tighten one of the bands. + +A voice called to her. "Run, Kittie." + +To the casual eye the child was all knobby legs and hair ribbons. She +scudded for the stable, sobbing as she ran. + +At sound of that voice Mysterious Pete leaped to the saddle and whirled +his horse. He was too late. The man who had called to Kittie slammed shut +the gate of the corral and laughed tauntingly. + +"Better 'light, Mr. Champa. That caballo you're on happens to be mine." + +Pete needed no introduction. This slight, devil-may-care young fellow at +the gate was Clanton. He was here to fight. The only road of escape was +over his body. + +The gunman slid from the saddle. His instinct for safety still served +him, for he came to the ground with the horse as a shield between him and +his foe. The nine-inch barrel of his revolver rested on the back of the +bronco as he blazed away. A chip flew from the cross-bar of the corral +gate. + +Clanton took no chances. The first shot from his forty-four dropped the +cowpony. Pete backed away, firing as he moved. He flung bullet after +bullet at the figure behind the gate. In his panic he began to think that +his enemy bore a charmed life. Three times his lead struck the woodwork +of the gate. + +The retreating man whirled and dropped, his weapon falling to the dust. +Clanton fired once more to make sure that his work was done, then moved +slowly forward, his eyes focused on the body. A thin wisp of smoke rose +from the revolver lying close to the still hand. + +Mysterious Pete had died with his boots on after the manner of his kind. + + + + +Chapter XXI + +Jim Receives and Declines an Offer + + +From the moment that Clanton walked out of the corral and left the dead +gunman lying in the dust his reputation was established. Up till that +time he had been on probation. Now he was a full-fledged killer. Nobody +any longer spoke of him by his last name, except those friends who still +hoped he might escape his destiny. "Go-Get-'em Jim" was his title at +large. Those on more familiar terms called him "Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em." + +It was unfortunate for Clanton that the killing of Champa lifted him into +instant popularity. Mysterious Pete had been too free with his gun. The +community had been afraid of him. The irresponsible way in which he had +wounded little Bud Proctor, whose life had been saved only by the courage +of Lee Snaith, was the climax of a series of outrages committed by the +man. + +That Jim had incidentally saved Kittie McRobert from the outlaw was a +piece of clean luck. Snaith came to him at once and buried the hatchet. +In the war just starting, the cattleman needed men of nerve to lead his +forces. He offered a place to Clanton, who jumped at the chance to get on +the pay-roll of Lee's father. + +"Bring yore friend Billie Prince to the store," suggested Snaith. "He's +not workin' for Webb now. I can make a place for him, too." + +Billie came, listened to the proposition of the grim old-timer, and +declined quietly. + +"Goin' to stick by Webb, are you?" demanded the chief of the opposite +faction. + +"Anything wrong with that? I've drawn a pay-check from him for three +seasons." + +"Oh, if it's a matter of sentiment." + +As a matter of fact, Billie did not intend to go on the trail any more, +though Webb had offered him a place as foreman of one of his herds. He +had discovered in himself unsuspected business capacity and believed he +could do better on his own. Moreover, he was resolved not to let himself +become involved in the lawless warfare that was engulfing the territory. + +It must be remembered that Washington County was at this time as large as +the average Atlantic Coast State. It had become a sink for the riff-raff +driven out of Texas by the Rangers, for all that wild and adventurous +element which flocks to a new country before the law has established +itself. The coming of the big cattle herds had brought money into the +country, and in its wake followed the gambler and the outlaw. Gold and +human life were the cheapest commodities at Los Portales. The man who +wore a gun on his hip had to be one hundred per cent efficient to +survive. + +Lawlessness was emphasized by the peculiar conditions of the country. The +intense rivalry to secure Government contracts for hay, wood, and +especially cattle, stimulated unwholesome competition. The temptation to +"rustle" stock, to hold up outfits carrying pay to the soldiers, to live +well merely as a gunman for one of the big interests on the river, made +the honest business of every-day life a humdrum affair. + +None the less, the real heroes among the pioneers were the quiet citizens +who went about their business and refused to embroil themselves in the +feuds that ran rife. The men who made the West were the mule-skinners, +the storekeepers, the farmers who came out in white-topped movers' +wagons. For a time these were submerged by the more sensational gunman, +but in the end they pushed to the top and wiped the "bad man" from the +earth. It was this prosaic class that Billie Prince had resolved to join. + +To that resolve he stuck through all the blood-stained years of the +notorious Washington County War. He went about his private affairs with +quiet energy that brought success. He took hay and grain contracts, +bought a freighting outfit, acquired a small but steadily increasing +bunch of cattle. Gradually he bulked larger in the public eye, became an +anchor of safety to whom the people turned after the war had worn itself +out and scattered bands of banditti infested the chaparral to prey upon +the settlers. + +This lean, brown-faced man walked the way of the strong. Men recognized +the dynamic force of his close-gripped jaw, the power of his quick, +steady eye, the patience of his courage. The eyes of women followed him +down the street, for there was some arresting quality in the firm, crisp +tread that carried the lithe, smooth-muscled body. With the passage of +years he had grown to a full measure of mental manhood. It was inevitable +that when Washington County set itself to the task of combing the outlaws +from the mesquite it should delegate the job to Billie Prince. + +The evening after his election as sheriff, Billie called at the home of +Pauline Roubideau, who was keeping house for her brother. Jack Goodheart +was leaving just as Prince stepped upon the porch. It had been two years +now since Jack had ceased to gravitate in the direction of Lee Snaith. +His eyes and his footsteps for many months had turned often toward Polly. + +The gaze of the sheriff-elect followed the lank figure of the retreating +man. + +"I've a notion to ask that man to give up a good business to wear a +deputy's star for me," he told Pauline. + +"Oh, I wouldn't," she said quickly. + +"Why not? He'd be a good man for the job. I want some one game--some one +who will go through when he starts." + +His questioning eyes rested on hers. She felt a difficulty in justifying +her protest. + +"I don't know--I just thought--" + +"I'm waiting," said Prince with a smile. + +"He wouldn't take it, would he?" she fenced. + +"If it was put up to him right I think he would. Of course, it would be a +sacrifice for him to make, but good citizens have to do that these days." + +"He's had so much hard luck and been so long getting a start I don't +think you ought to ask him." The color spilled over her cheeks like wine +shaken from a glass upon a white cloth. Polly was always ardent on behalf +of a friend. + +"I can't help that. There's another man I have in mind, but if I don't +get him it will be up to Jack." + +"Will it be dangerous?" + +"No more than smoking a cigarette above an open keg of powder. But you +don't suppose that would keep him from accepting the job, do you?" + +"No," she admitted. "He would take it if he thought he ought. But I hope +you get the other man." + +Billie dismissed the subject and drew up a chair beside the hammock in +which she was leaning back. + +"This is my birthday, Polly," he told her. "I'm twenty-four years old." + +"Good gracious! What a Methuselah!" + +"I want a present, so I've come to ask for it." + +With a sidelong tilt of her chin she flashed a look of quick eyes at him. +Her voice did not betray the pulse, of excitement that was beginning to +beat in her blood. + +"You've just been elected sheriff. Isn't that enough?" she evaded. + +"That's a fine present to hand a man," he answered grimly. "An' I didn't +notice you bubble with enthusiasm when I spoke of givin' half the glory +to Goodheart." + +"But I haven't a thing you'd care for. If I'd only known in time I'd have +sent to Vegas and got you something nice." + +"You don't have to send to Vegas for it, Polly. The present I want is +right here," he said simply. + +She reached out a little hand impulsively. "Billie, I believe you 're the +best man I know--the very best." + +"I hate to hear that. You're tryin' to let me down easy." + +"I'm an ungrateful little idiot. Any other girl in town would jump at the +chance to say, 'Thank you, kind sir.'" + +"But you can't," he said gently. + +"No, I can't." + +He was not sure whether there was a flash of tears in her brown eyes, but +he knew by that little trick of biting the lower lip that they were not +far away. She was a tender-hearted little comrade, and it always hurt her +to hurt others. + +Billie drew a long breath. "That's settled, too, then. I asked you once +before if there was some one else. I ask you again, but don't tell me if +you'd rather not." + +"Yes." + +"You mean there is." + +Again the scarlet splashed into her cheeks. She nodded her head three or +four times quickly in assent. + +"Not Jim Clanton?" he said, alarmed. + +A faint, tender smile flashed on her lips. "I don't think I'll tell you +who he is, Billie." + +He hesitated. "That's all right, Polly. I don't want to pry into yore +secret. But--don't do anything foolish. Don't marry a man with the notion +of reformin' him or because he seems to you romantic. You have lots of +sense. You'll use it, won't you?" he pleaded. + +"I'll try to use it, Billie," she promised. Then, the soft eyes shining +and the color still high in her cheeks, she added impulsively: "I don't +know anybody that needs some one to love him more than that poor boy +does." + +"Mebbeso. But don't you be that some one, Polly." He hesitated, divided +between loyalty to his friend and his desire for this girl's good. His +brown, unscarred hand caught hers in a firm grip. "Don't you do it, +little girl. Don't you. The woman that marries Jim Clanton is doomed to +be miserable. There's no escape for her. She's got to live with her heart +in her throat till the day they bring his dead body back to her." + +She leaned toward him, and now there was no longer any doubt that her +eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Perhaps a woman doesn't marry for +happiness alone, Billie. That may come to her, or it may not. But she has +to fulfill her destiny. I don't know how to say what I mean, but she must +go on and live her life and forget herself." + +Prince rejected this creed flatly. "No! No! The best way to fulfill yore +life is to be happy. That's what you've always done, an' that's why +you've made other people happy. Because you go around singin' an' +dancin', we all want to tune up with you. When I was out bossin' a +freight outfit I used to think of you at night under the stars as a +little Joybird. Now you've got it in that curly head of yours that you 'd +ought to be some kind of a missionary martyr for the sake of a man's +soul. That's all wrong." + +"Is it?" she asked him with a crooked, little, wistful smile. "How about +you? Do you want to be sheriff? Is it going to make you so awfully happy +to spend your time running down outlaws for the good of the country? +Aren't you doing it because you've been called to it and not because you +like it?" + +"That's different," he protested. "When the community needs him a man's +got to come through or be a yellow hound. But you've got no right to +toss away yore life plumb foolishly just because you've got a tender +heart." Billie stopped again, then threw away any scruples he might have +on the score of friendship. "Jim is goin' to be what he is to the end of +the chapter. You can't change him. Nobody can. In this Washington County +War he's been a terror to the other side. You know that. For such a girl +as you he's outside the pale." + +"I heard Jean say once that Jim had never killed a man that didn't need +killing," she protested. + +"That may be true, too. But it wasn't up to him to do it. It isn't only +killin' either. He's on the wrong track." + +The young man could say no more. He could not tell her that Clanton was +suspected of rustling and that his name had been mentioned in connection +with robbery of the mail. These charges were not proved. Prince himself +still loyally denied their truth, though evidence was beginning to pile +up against the young gunman. He had warned Clanton, and Jim had clapped +him on the shoulder, laughed, and invited him to take a drink with him. +This was not quite the way in which Billie felt an innocent man would +receive news that he was being furtively accused of crime. + +"Yes, he's going wrong," agreed Pauline. "But we can't desert him, can +we? You're his best friend. You know how brave he is, how generous, how +at the bottom of his heart he loves people that are fine and true. If we +stand by him we'll save him yet." + +The young man's common sense told him that Clanton's future lay with +himself and his attitude toward his environment, but he loved the spirit +of this girl's gift of faith in her friends. It was so wholly like her to +reject the external evidence and accept her own conviction of his innate +goodness. + +"I hope yore faith will work a miracle." + +"I hate the things he does more than you do, Billie. It is horrible to me +that he can take human life. I don't justify him at all, even though +usually he is on the right side. But in spite of everything he has done +Jim is only a wild boy. And he's so splendid some ways. Any day he would +give his life for you or for me or for Lee Snaith. You feel that about +him, don't you?" + +"Yes." + +He was not satisfied to let the subject drop, but for the present it had +to be postponed. For a young man and a young woman were turning in at the +gate. They were a handsome pair physically. Each of them moved with the +lithe grace of a young puma. Pauline rose to meet them. + +"I'm glad you came, Lee. Didn't know you were in town, Jim," + +Clanton smiled. "I rode up from the Hondo to congratulate our new +sheriff. Don't you let any of them outlaws escape, Billie." + +Prince looked directly into his audacious eyes as he shook hands with +him. + +"Not if I can help it, Jim. I want you to be my chief deputy in cleanin' +up the county. If you'll help me we'll make such a gather of bad men that +it won't be safe for a crook to show his head here." + +Pauline clapped her hands. "What a splendiferous idea! It's a great +chance for you, Jim. You and Billie can do it too. I know you can." + +The other young woman had recognized Prince only by a casual nod. It was +her custom to ignore him as much as possible. Now her dark, velvety eyes +jumped to meet his, then passed to Clanton. She recognized the +significance of the moment. It was Jim's last opportunity to line up on +the side of law and order. Lee, with Billie and Pauline, had stood his +loyal friend against a growing public opinion. Would he justify their +faith in him? + +After a long silence Jim spoke. "No, I reckon not, Billie. I've got +interests that will take all my time. Much obliged, old scout. I'd like +to ride in couples with you like we used to do. I sure would, but I +can't." + +"That's all nonsense. It's no excuse at all," broke out Lee in her direct +fashion. "Mr. Prince has more important affairs than you a good deal. +He is dropping his to serve the people. You'll have to give a better +reason than that to convince me." + +Billie knew and Lee suspected what lay back of the spoken word. The duty +of the sheriff would be to hunt down the men with whom Clanton had +lately been consorting. He felt that he could not desert his friends to +line up against them. Some of these were a bad lot, the riff-raff of a +wild country, but this would not justify him in his own mind for using +his knowledge of their habits to run them to earth. + +"No, I can't talk business with you, Billie," the young fellow said +decisively. + +"Why can't you?" demanded Lee. + +Jim Clanton smiled. "You're certainly a right persistent young lady, but +by advice of counsel I decline to answer." + + + + +Chapter XXII + +The Rustlers' Camp + + +From Live-Oaks a breakneck trail runs up the side of the mountain, drops +down into the valley beyond, and twists among the hills and through +cañons to the Ruidosa. In the darkness a man followed this precarious +path. His horse climbed it like a cat, without the least uncertainty or +doubt. Both mount and rider had covered this ground often during the +Washington County War. Joe Yankie expected to continue to use it as long +as he found a profit in other men's cattle. + +When he had reached the summit he swung to the right, dipped abruptly +into a narrow gulch, skirted a clump of junipers, and looked down upon +a little basin hidden snugly in the gorge. A wisp of pungent smoke rose +to his nostrils. The pony began cautiously the sharp descent. The +escarpment was of disintegrated granite which rang beneath the hoofs of +the animal. A pebble rolled to the edge of the bluff and dropped into the +black pit below. + +From the gulf a challenging voice rose. "Hello, up there!" + +"It's me--Joe," answered the rider. + +"Time you were gettin' here," growled the other, as yet only a voice in +the darkness. + +Slowly the horse slid forward to a ribbon of trail that led less +precipitously to the camp. + +"'Lo, Joe. Fall off an' rest," a one-armed man invited. By the light of +the camp-fire he was a hard-faced, wall-eyed citizen with a jaw like a +steel trap. + +Yankie dismounted and straddled to the fire. "How-how; I'm heap hungry, +boys. Haven't et since mornin'." + +"We're 'most out of grub. Got nothin' but jerked beef an' hard-tack. How +are things a-stackin', Joe?" asked a heavy-set, bow-legged man with +a cold, fishy eye. + +"Looks good, Dave. I'll lead the cattle to you. It'll be up to you an' +Albeen an' Dumont to make a get-away with 'em." + +"Don't you worry none about that. Once I get these beeves on the trail +there can't no shorthorn cattleman take 'em away from me." + +"Oh, you're doin' this thing, are you?" drawled Albeen offensively. +"There's been a heap of big I talk around here lately. First off, I want +to tell you that when you call Homer Webb a shorthorn cattleman you've +got another guess comin'. He's a sure enough old-timer. Webb knocked the +bark off'n this country when it was green, an' you got to rise up early +an' travel fast if you want to slip over anything on him," + +"That's whatever," agreed Yankie. "I don't love the old man a whole lot. +I've stood about all from him I'm intendin' to. One of these days it's +goin' to be him or me. But the old man's there every jump of the road. He +knew New Mexico when Los Portales was a whistlin' post in the desert. +He's fought through this war an' come through richer than when he +started. If I was lookin' for an easy mark I'd sure pass up Webb." + +"He's got you lads buffaloed," jeered Roush. "Webb looks like anybody +else to me. I don't care if he's worth a million. If he fools with me +he'll find I fog him quick." + +"I've known fellows before that got all filled up with talk an' had to +steam off about every so often," commented Albeen to the world at large. + +"Meanin' me?" + +Albeen carefully raked a live coal from the fire and pressed it down into +the bowl of his pipe. The eyes in his leathery, brown face had grown hard +as jade. For some time he and Dave Roush had been ready for an explosion. +It could not come any too soon to suit the one-armed man. + +"Meanin' you if you want to take it that way." Albeen looked straight at +him with an unwinking gaze. "You're not the only man on the reservation +that wears his gun low, Roush. Maybe you're a wolf for fair. I've sure +heard you claim it right often. You're a two-gun man. I pack only one, +seem' as I'm shy a wing. But don't git the notion you can ride me. I +won't stand for it a minute." + +"Sho! Dave didn't mean anything like that. Did you, Dave?" interposed +Dumont hastily. "You was just kind o' jokin', wasn't you?" + +"Well, I'm servin' notice right now that when any one drops around any +jokes about me bein' buffaloed, he's foolin' with dynamite. No man +alive can run a sandy on me an' git away with it." + +The chill eyes of Albeen, narrowed to shining slits, focused on Roush +menacingly. All present understood that he was offering Devil Dave a +choice. He could draw steel, or he could side-step the issue. + +The campers had been playing poker with white navy beans for chips. +Roush, undecided, gathered up in his fingers the little pile of them in +front of him and let them sift down again to the blanket on the edge of +which he sat. Some day he and Albeen would have to settle this quarrel +once for all. But not to-night. Dave wanted the breaks with him when that +hour came. He intended to make a sure thing of it. Albeen was one of +those fire-eaters who would play into his hand by his reckless courage. +Better have patience and watch for his chance against the one-armed +gunman. + +"I ain't aimin' to ride you any, Albeen," he said sulkily. + +"Lay off'n me, then," advised the other curtly. + +Roush grumbled something inaudible. It might have been a promise. It +might have been a protest. Yankie jumped into the breach and began +to talk. + +"I couldn't git away from the old man yesterday. I think he's suspicious +about me. Anyhow, he acts like he is. I came in to Live-Oaks to-night +without notifyin' him an' I got to be back in camp before mornin'. +Here's my plan. I've got a new rider out from Kansas for his health. He's +gun-shy. I'll leave him in charge of this bunch of stock overnight on. +the berrendo. He'll run like a scared deer at the first shot. Hustle the +beeves over the pass an' keep 'em movin' till you come to Lost Cache." + +Crouched over the blanket, they discussed details and settled them. +Yankie rose to leave and Roush followed him to his horse. + +"Don't git a notion I'm scared of Albeen, Joe," he explained. "No +one-armed, hammered-down little runt can bluff me for a second. When I'm +good an' ready I'll settle with him, but I'm not goin' to wreck this +business we're on by any personal difficulty." + +"That's right, Dave," agreed the foreman of the Flying V Y. "We all +understand how you feel." + +Yankie, busy fastening a cinch, had his forehead pressed against the +saddle and could afford a grin. He knew that the courage of a killer is +largely dependent on his physical well-being. If he is cold or hungry or +exhausted, his nerve is at low ebb; if life is running strong in his +arteries his grit is above par. For years Roush had been drinking to +excess. He had reached the point where he dared not face in the open a +man like Albeen with nerves of unflawed steel. The declension of a +gunman, if once it begins, is rapid and sure. One of those days, unless +Roush were killed first, some mild-looking citizen would take his gun +from him and kick him out of a bar-room. + +The foreman traveled fast, but the first streaks of morning were already +lighting the sky when he reached Rabbit Ear Creek, upon which was the +Flying V Y Ranch No. 3 of which he was majordomo. He unsaddled, threw the +bronco into the corral, and walked to the foreman's bunkhouse. Without +undressing, he flung himself upon the bed and fell asleep at one. He +awoke to see a long slant of sunshine across the bare planks of the +floor. + +Some one was hammering on the door. Webb opened it and put in his head +just as the Segundo jumped to his feet. + +"Makin' up some lost sleep, Joe?" inquired the owner of the ranch +amiably. + +"I been out nights a good deal tryin' to check the rustlers," answered +Yankie sullenly. He had been caught asleep in his clothes and it annoyed +him. Would the old man guess that he had been in the saddle all night? + +"Glad to hear you're gettin' busy on that job. They've got to be stopped. +If you can't do it I'll have to try to find a man that can, Joe." + +"Mebbe you think it's an easy job, Webb," retorted the other, a chip on +his shoulder. "If you do it costs nothin' Mex to fire me an' try some +other guy." + +"I don't say you're to blame, Joe. Perhaps you're just unlucky. But the +fact stands that I'm losin' more cattle on this range than at any one of +my other three ranches or all of 'em put together." + +"We're nearer the hills than they are," the foreman replied sulkily. + +"I don't want excuses, but results, Joe. However, I came to talk about +that gather of beeves for Major Strong." + +Webb talked business in his direct fashion for a few minutes, then +strolled away. The majordomo watched him walk down to the corral. He +could not swear to it, but he was none the less sure that the +Missourian's keen eye was fixed upon a sweat-stained horse that had been +traveling the hills all night. + + + + +Chapter XXIII + +Murder from the Chaparral + + +Webb was just leaving for one of his ranches lower down the river when a +horseman galloped up. The alkali dust was caked on his unshaven face and +the weary bronco was dripping with sweat. + +The owner of the Flying V Y, giving some last instructions to the +foreman, turned to listen to the sputtering rider. + +"They--they done run off that bunch of beeves on the berrendo," he +explained, trembling with excitement. + +"Who?" + +"I don't know. A bunch of rustlers. About a dozen of 'em. They tried to +kill me." + +Webb turned to Yankie. "You didn't leave this man alone overnight with +that bunch of beeves for Major Strong?" + +"Sure I did. Why not?" demanded the foreman boldly. + +"We'll not argue that," said the boss curtly, "Go hunt you another job. +You'll draw yore last pay-check from the Flying V Y to-day." + +"If you're loaded up with a notion that some one else could do better--" + +"It's not yore ability I object to, Yankie" cut in the ranchman. + +"Say, what are you insinuatin'?" snarled the segundo. + +"Not a thing, Yankie. I'm tellin' you to yore face that I think you're a +crook. One of these days I'm goin' to land you behind the bars at Santa +Fé. No, don't make another pass like that, Joe. I'll sure beat you to +it." + +Wrayburn had ridden up and now asked the foreman a question about some +calves. + +"Don't ask me. Ask yore boss," growled Yankie, his face dark with fury. + +"Don't ask me either," said Webb. "You're foreman of this ranch, Dad." + +"Since when?" asked the old Confederate. + +"Since right this minute. I've fired Yankie." + +Dad chewed his cud of tobacco without comment. He knew that Webb would +tell him all he needed to know. + +"Says I'm a waddy! Says I'm a crook!" burst out the deposed foreman. +"Wish you joy of yore job, Wrayburn. You'll have one heluva time." + +"You will if Yankie can bring it about," amended the cattleman. He spoke +coldly and contemptuously just as if the man were not present. "I've +made up my mind, Dad, that he's in cahoots with the rustlers." + +"Prove it! Prove it!" demanded the accused man, furious with anger at +Webb's manner. + +The ranch-owner went on talking to Wrayburn in an even voice. "I've +suspected it for some time. Now I'm convinced. Yesterday mornin' I found +him asleep in bed with his clothes on. His horse looked like it had been +travelin' all night. I made inquiries. He went to Live-Oaks an' was seen +to take the trail to the Ruidosa. Why?" + +"You've been spyin' on me," charged Yankie. He was under a savage desire +to draw his gun but he could not shake off in a moment the habit of +subordination bred by years of service with this man. + +"To let his fellow thieves know that he meant to leave a bunch of beef +steers on the berrendo practically unguarded. That's why. I'd bet a stack +of blues on it. You'll have to watch this fellow, Dad." + +The new foreman took his cue from the boss. None the less, he meant just +what he said. "You better believe I'll watch him. I've had misgivin's +about him for a right smart time." + +"He'll probably ride straight to his gang of rustlers. Well, he can't do +us half as much harm there as here." + +"I'll git you both. Watch my smoke. Watch it." With a curse the rustler +swung his horse round and gave it the spur. Poison hate churned in his +heart. At the bend of the road he turned and shook a fist at them both. + +"There goes one good horse an' saddle belongin' to me," said Webb, +smiling ruefully. "But if I never get them back it's cheap at the price. +I'm rid of one scoundrel." + +"I wonder if you are, Homer," mused his friend. "Maybe you'd better have +let him down easy. Joe Yankie is as revengeful as an Injun." + +"Let him down easy!" exploded the cattleman. "When he's just pulled off a +raw deal by which I lose a bunch of forty fat three-year-olds. I ought +to have gunned him in his tracks." + +"If you had proof, but you haven't. It's a right doubtful policy for a +man to stir up a rattler till it's crazy, then to turn it loose in his +bedroom." + +The Missourian turned to the business of the hour. "We'll get a posse out +after the rustlers right away. Dad. I'll see the boys an' you hustle +up some rifles and ammunition." + +Half an hour later they saw the dust of the cowpunchers taking the trail +for the berrendo. + +"I'll ride down an' get Billie Prince started after 'em. I can go with +his posse as a deputy," suggested the ranchman. + +To save Webb's time, Dad rode a few miles with him while the cattleman +outlined to him the policy he wanted pursued. + +The sun was high in the heavens when they met, not far from Ten Sleep, a +rider. The cattleman looked at him grimly. In the Washington County +War just ended, this young fellow had been the leading gunman of the +Snaith-McRobert faction. If the current rumors were true he was now +making an easy living in the chaparral. + +The rider drew up, nodded a greeting to Wrayburn, and grinned with cool +nonchalance at Webb. He knew from report in what esteem he was held +by the owner of the Flying V Y brand. + +"Yankie up at the ranch?" he asked. + +"What do you want with him?" demanded Webb brusquely. + +"I got a message for him." + +"Who from?" + +Clanton was conscious of some irritation against this sharp catechism. In +point of fact Billie Prince had asked him to notify Yankie that he had +heard of the rustling on the berrendo and was taking the trail at once. +But Go-Get-'Em Jim was the last man in the world to be driven by +compulsion. He had been ready to tell Webb the message Billie had given +him for Yankie, but he was not ready to tell it until the Missourian +moderated his tone. + +"Mebbe that's my business--an' his, Mr. Webb," he said. + +"An' mine too--if you've come to tell him how slick you pulled that trick +on the berrendo." + +Jim stiffened at once. "To Halifax with you an' yore cattle, Webb. Do you +claim I rustled that bunch of beeves last night?" + +"I see you know all about it?" retorted Webb with heavy sarcasm. + +"Mebbeso. I'm not askin' yore permission to live--not just yet." + +Webb flushed dark with anger. "You've got a nerve, young fellow, to go up +to my ranch after last night's business. Unless you want to have yore +pelt hung up to dry, keep away from any of the Flying V Y ranges. As for +Yankie, if you go back to yore hole you'll likely find him. I kicked the +hound out two hours ago." + +"Like you did me three years ago," suggested Clanton, looking straight at +the grizzled cowman. "Webb, you're the high mogul here since you fixed +it up with the Government to send its cavalry to back yore play against +our faction. You act like we've got to knock our heads in the dust three +times when we meet up with you. Don't you think it. Don't you think it +for a minute. If I've rustled yore cattle, prove it. Until then padlock +yore tongue, or you an' me'll mix it." + +"You're threatenin' me, eh?" + +"If that's what you want to call it." + +"You're a killer, I'm told," flashed back Webb hotly. "Now listen to me. +You an' yore kind belong in the penitentiary, an' that's where the honest +folks of Washington County are goin' to send you soon. Give me half a +chance an' I'll offer a reward of ten thousand dollars for you alive or +dead. That's the way to get rid of gunmen." + +"Is it?" Clanton laughed mockingly. "You advise the fellow that tries to +collect that reward to get his life insured heavy for his widow." + +If this was a boast, it was also a warning. Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em may not +have been the best target shot on the border, but give him a man behind a +spitting revolver as his mark and he could throw bullets with swifter, +deadlier accuracy than any old-timer of them all. He did not take the +time to aim; it was enough for him to look at his opponent as he fired. + +The young fellow swung his horse expertly and cantered into the mesquite. + +"I'll give you two months before you're wiped off the map," the cattleman +called after him angrily. + +At the edge of a heavy growth of brush Clanton pulled up, flashed a +six-shooter, and dropped two bullets in the dust at the feet of the +horses in the road. Then, with a wave of his hand, he laughed derisively +and plunged into the chaparral. + +Webb, stung to irritable action, fired into the cholla and the arrowweed +thickets. Shot after shot he sent at the man who had disappeared in the +maze. + +"Let him go. Homer. You're well quit of him," urged Wrayburn. + +The words were still on his lips when out of the dense tangle of +vegetation rang a shot. The owner of the Flying VY clutched at his +saddle-horn. A spasmodic shudder shook the heavy body and it began to +sink. + +Wrayburn ran to help. He was in time to catch his friend as he fell, but +before he could lower the inert weight to the ground the life of Homer +Webb had flickered out. + + + + +Chapter XXIV + +Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em Leaves a Note + + +Prince and his posse were camped in a little park near the headquarters +of Saco de Oro Creek when a trapper brought word to Billie of the death +of Webb. The heart of the young sheriff sank at the news. It was not only +that he had always liked and admired the bluff cattleman. What shocked +him more was that Jim Clanton had killed him. Webb was one of the most +popular ranchmen on the river. There would be an instant, widespread +demand for the arrest and conviction of his slayer. Billie had taken an +oath to uphold the law. His clear duty was to go out and capture Jim +alive or dead. + +Not for a moment did Billie doubt what he would do. He had pledged +himself to blot out the "bad man," and he would go through no matter what +the cost to his personal feelings. + +A slow anger at Clanton burned in him. Why had he done this wanton and +lawless thing? The boy he had known three years ago would never have shot +down from cover a man like Webb. That he could have done it now marked +the progress of the deterioration of his moral fiber. What right had he +to ask those who remained loyal to him to sacrifice so often their sense +of right in his favor? + +The old intimacy between Billie and Jim had long since waned. They were +traveling different roads these days. But though they were no longer +chums their friendship endured. When they met, a warm affection lit the +eyes of both. It had survived the tug of diverse interests, the +intervention of long separations, the conflict born of the love of women. +Would it stand without breaking this new test of its strength? + +With a little nod to Goodheart the sheriff retired from the camp-fire. +His deputy joined him presently on a hillside overlooking the creek. + +"I'm goin' back to Live-Oaks to-night, Jack," announced Prince. "You'd +better stay here a few days an' hunt through these gulches. Since that +rain yesterday there's not one chance in fifty of runnin' down the +rustlers, but you might happen to stumble on the place where they've got +the cattle cached." + +"You're goin' down about this Webb murder?" + +"Yes. I'm goin' to work out some plans. It will take some strategy to +land Clanton. He's lived out in the hills for years and he knows every +foot of cover in the country." + +Goodheart assented. To go blindly out into the mesquite after the young +outlaw would have been as futile as to reach a hand toward the stars with +the hope of plucking a gold-piece from the air. + +"Watch the men he trains with. Keep an eye on the Elephant Corral an' +check up on him when he rides in to Los Portales. Spot the tendejon at +Point o' Rocks where he has a hang-out. Unless he has left the country +he'll show up one of these days." + +"That's what I think, Jack, an' I'm confident he hasn't gone. He has a +reason for stayin' here." + +Goodheart could have put a name to the reason. It was a fair enough +reason to have held either him or the sheriff under the same +circumstances. + +"How about a reward? He trains with a crowd I'd hate to trust farther +than I could throw a bull by the tail. Some of 'em would sell their own +mothers for gold." + +"I'll get in touch with Webb's family an' see if they won't offer a big +reward for information leading to the arrest of the murderer." + +Within the week every crossroads store in the county had tacked to it a +placard offering a reward of five thousand dollars for the man who had +killed Homer Webb. + +No applications for it came in at first. + +"Wait," said Goodheart, smiling. "More than one yellow dog has licked its +jaws hungrily before that poster. Some dark night the yellowest one will +sneak in here to see you." + +On the main street of Los Portales one evening Billie met Pauline +Roubideau. She came at him with a direct frontal attack. + +"I've had a letter from Jim Clanton." + +The sheriff did not ask her where it was post-marked. He did not want any +information from Polly as to the whereabouts of her friend. + +"You're one ahead of me then. I haven't," answered Prince. + +"He says he didn't do it." + +"Do what?" + +"Shoot Mr. Webb. And I know he didn't if he says he didn't." + +The grave eyes of the young man met hers. "But Dad Wrayburn was there. He +saw the whole affair." + +Pauline brushed this aside with superb faith. "I don't care. Jim never +lied to me in his life. I know he didn't do it--and it makes me so glad." + +The young man envied her the faith that could reject evidence as though +it did not exist. The Jim Clanton she had once known would not have lied +to her. Therefore the Jim Clanton she knew now was worthy of perfect +trust. If there was any flaw in that logic the sweet and gallant heart of +the girl did not find it. + +But Billie had talked with Dad Wrayburn. He had ridden out and gone over +the ground with a fine-tooth comb. Webb had been killed by a bullet +from a forty-four. Of his own knowledge Prince knew that Clanton was +carrying a weapon of this caliber only three hours before the killing. +There was no escape from the conviction of the guilt of his friend. + +The sheriff walked back to the hotel where he was staying. On the way his +mind was full of the young woman he had just left. He had never liked +her better, never admired her more. But, somehow--and for the first time +he realized it--there was no longer any sting in the thought of her. He +did not have to fight against any unworthy jealousy because of her +interest in Clanton. Of late he had been very busy. It struck him now +that his mind had been much less preoccupied with the thought of her than +it used to be. He supposed there was such a thing as falling out of love. +Perhaps he was in process of doing that now. + +Bud Proctor, a tall young stripling, met Prince on the porch of the +hotel. + +"Buck Sanders was here to see you, sheriff," the boy said. + +Since the days when he had been segundo of the Snaith-McRobert outfit +Sanders had declined in the world. Like many of his kind he had taken to +drink, become bitten with the desire to get rich without working, and +operated inconspicuously in the chaparral with a branding iron. Much +water had poured down the bed of the Pecos in the past three years. The +disagreement between him and Clanton had long since been patched up and +they had lately been together a great deal. + +Prince went up to his room, threw off his coat, and began to prepare some +papers he had to send to the Governor. He was interrupted by a knock +at the door. + +Sanders opened at the sheriff's invitation, shoved in his head, looked +around the room warily, and sidled in furtively. He closed the door. + +"Mind if I lock it?" he asked. + +The sheriff nodded. His eyes fixed themselves intently on the man. "Go as +far as you like." + +The visitor hung his hat over the keyhole and moved forward to the table. +His close-set eyes gripped those of the sheriff. + +"What about this reward stuff?" he asked harshly. + +An instant resentment surged up in Billie's heart. He knew now why this +fellow had come to see him secretly. It was his duty to get all the +information he could about Clanton. He had to deal with this man who +wanted to sell his comrade, but he did not relish the business. + +"You can read, can't you, Sanders?" he asked ungraciously. + +"Where's the money?" snarled his guest. + +"It's in the bank." + +"Sure?" + +From his pocket-book Billie took a bank deposit slip. He put it on the +table where the other man could look it over. + +"Would a man have to wait for the reward until Clanton was convicted?" +the traitor asked roughly. + +"A thousand would be paid as soon as the arrest was made, the rest when +he was convicted," said Prince coldly. + +"Will you put that in writin', Mr. Sheriff?" + +The chill eyes of the officer drilled into those of the rustler. He drew +a pad toward him and wrote a few lines, then shoved the tablet of paper +toward Sanders. The latter tore off the sheet and put it in his pocket. + +Sanders spoke again, abruptly. "Understand one thing, Prince. I don't +have to take part in the arrest. I only tell you where to find him." + +"And take me to the spot," added the sheriff, "I'll do the arrestin'." + +"Whyfor must I take you there if I tell you where to go?" + +"You want a good deal for your white alley, Sanders," returned the other +contemptuously. "I'm to take all the chances an' you are to drag down the +reward. That listens good. Nothin' to it. You'll ride right beside me; +then if anything goes wrong, you'll be where I can ask you questions." + +"Do you think I'm double-crossin' you? Is that it?" flushed the +ex-foreman of the Lazy S M. + +"I don't know. It might be Clanton you're double-crossin', or it might be +me," said the sheriff with cynical insolence. "But if I'm the bird you've +made a poor choice. In case we're ambushed, you'll be in nice, easy reach +of my gun." + +"Do I look like a fool?" snapped Sanders. "I'm out for the dough. I'm +takin' you to Clanton because I need the money." + +"Mebbeso. You won't need it long if you throw me down." Then abruptly, +the sheriff dropped into the manner of dry business. "Get down to tacks, +man. Where is Clanton's hang-out?" + +Buck sat down and drew a sketch roughly on the tablet. "Cross the river +at Blazer's Ford, cut over the hills to Ojo Caliente, an' swing to the +east. He's about four miles from Round Top in an old dugout. Maybe +you've heard of Saguaro Cañon. Well, he's holed up in a little gulch +runnin' into it." + +By daybreak next morning the sheriff's posse was in the saddle. In +addition to Sanders, who rode beside Billie unarmed, Goodheart and two +special deputies made up the party. + +The sun was riding high when they reached Ojo Caliente. The party bore +eastward, following a maze of washes, arroyos, and gorges. It was well +into the afternoon when the informer ventured a suggestion. + +"We're close enough. Better light here an' sneak forward on foot," the +man said gruffly. + +As he swung from the horse Billie smiled grimly. He had a plan of his own +which he meant to try. Buck Sanders might not like it, but he was not in +a position to make any serious objection. + +They crept forward to a rim rock above a heavily wooded slope. A +tongue-shaped grove ran down close to the edge of a narrow gulch. + +Prince explained what he meant to do. "We'll all snake down closer. When +I give the word you'll go forward alone, Sanders, an' call Jim out. Ask +him to come forward an' look at yore bronco's hoof. That's all you'll +have to do." + +Sanders voiced a profane and vigorous protest. "Have you forgot who this +guy is you're arrestin'? Go-Get-'Em Jim is no tenderfoot kid. He's chain +lightnin' on the shoot. If he suspects me one steenth part of a second, +that will be long enough for him to gun me good." + +"He'll not have a chance. We'll have him covered all the time." + +"Say, we agreed you was goin' to make this arrest, not me." + +"I'll make it. All you've got to do is to call him out." + +"All!" shrieked Sanders. "You know damned well I'm takin' the big risk." + +"That's the way I intended it to be," the sheriff assured him coolly. +"You're to get the reward, aren't you?" + +The rustler balked. He polluted the air with low, vicious curses, but in +the end he had to come to time. + +They slipped through the grove till they could see on the edge of the +ravine a dug-out. Prince flashed a handkerchief as a signal and Sanders +rode down in the open skirting the timber. He swung from the saddle and +shouted a "Hello, in the house!" + +No answer came. Buck called a second and a third time. He waited, +irresolute. He could not consult with Prince. At last he moved toward the +house and entered. Presently he returned to the door and waved to the +sheriff to come forward. + +Very cautiously the posse accepted the invitation, but every foot of the +way Billie kept the man covered. + +Sanders ripped out a furious oath. "He's done made his get-away. Some one +must 'a' warned him." + +He held out to Prince a note scrawled on a piece of wrapping-paper. It +was in Clanton's pell-mell, huddled chirography:-- + +Sorry I can't stay to entertain you, Billie. Make yourself at home. Bacon +and other grub in a lard can by the creek. Help yourself. + +Crack Sanders one on the bean with your six-gun on account for me. + +JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM. + + + + +Chapter XXV + +The Mal-Pais + + +Billie Prince laughed. The joke was on him, but he was glad of it. As +sheriff of Washington County it had been his duty to accept any aid that +might come from the treachery of Sanders; but as a friend of Jim Clanton +he did not want to win over him by using such weapons. + +"Tickled to death, ain't you?" snapped the ex-foreman sourly. "Looks to +me like you didn't want to make this arrest, Mr. Sheriff. Looks to me +like some one else has been doin' some double-crossin' besides me." + +"Naturally _you'd_ think that," cut in Goodheart dryly. "The facts +probably are that Go-Get-'Em Jim, knowin' his friends pretty well, had +you watched, found out you called on the sheriff, an' guessed the rest. +He's not a fool, you know." + +"That's right. Git ready an alibi," Sanders snarled. + +Casually Goodheart picked up the piece of wrapping-paper upon which the +note had been written. He read aloud the last sentence. + +"'Crack Sanders one on the bean with your six-gun on account for me.' +Seems to me if I was you, Buck, I'd alibi myself down the river into +Texas as quick as I could jog a bronco along. But, of course, I don't +know yore friend Go-Get-'Em as well as you do. Mebbe you'll be able to +explain it to him. Tell him you were hard up an' needed the money." + +The eyes of the rustler flashed from Goodheart to the sheriff. They were +full of sinister suspicion. Had these men arranged to deliver him into +the hands of Clanton? Was he himself going to fall into the pit he had +dug? + +"Gimme back my gun an' I'm not afraid of him or any of you," he bluffed. + +"You'll get yore gun when we reach Los Portales," Prince told him. "I +left it in my office." + +"I ain't goin' to Los Portales." + +"All right. Leave yore address and I'll send the gun by the buckboard +driver." + +All the baffled hate and cupidity of Sanders glared out of his wolfish +face. "I'll let you know later where I'm at." + +He straddled out of the house, pulled himself astride the waiting horse, +and rode up the hill. Presently he disappeared over the crest. + +"Much obliged, Jack," said Prince, smiling. "Exit Mr. Buck Sanders from +New Mexico. Our loss is Texas's gain. Chalk up one bad man emigrated +from Washington County." + +"He's sure goin' to take my advice," agreed the lank deputy. A little +chuckle of amusement escaped from his throat. "To the day of his death +he'll think we sent word to Go-Get-'Em Jim. I'll bet my next pay-check +against a dollar Mex that he forgets to send you that address." + +Billie availed himself of the invitation of Clanton to make himself at +home. He and his posse spent the night in the dug-out and returned to Los +Portales next day. For the better part of a week he was detained there on +business, after which he took the stage to Live-Oaks. + +News was waiting for Prince at the county seat that led him for a time to +forget the existence of Clanton. The buckboard driver from El Paso +reported the worst sand-storm he had ever encountered. It had struck him +a mile or two this side of the Mal-Pais, as the great lava beds in the +Tularosa Basin are commonly called. He had unhitched the horses, +overturned the buckboard, and huddled in the shelter of the bed. There he +had lain crouched for ten hours while the drifting sand, fine as powder, +blotted out the world and buried him in drifts. He was an old plainsman, +tough as leather, and he had weathered the storm safely. A full day late +he staggered into Live-Oaks a sorry sight. + +The news that shook Live-Oaks into swift activity had to do with Lee +Snaith. Just before the storm hit him the buckboard driver had met her +riding toward the Mal-Pais. + +Prince arrived to find the town upside down with the confusion of +preparation. Swiftly he brought order out of the turmoil. He organized +the rescue party, assigned leaders to the divisions, saw that each man +was properly outfitted, and mapped off the territory to be covered by +each posse. Outwardly he was cool, efficient, full of hopeful energy. But +at his heart Billie felt an icy clutch of despair. What chance was there +for Lee, caught unsheltered in the open, when the wiry, old Indian +fighter, protected by his wagon, had barely won through alive? + +Every horse in Live-Oaks that could be ridden was in the group that +melted into the night to find Lee Snaith. Every living soul left in the +little town was on the street to cheer the rescuers. + +The sheriff divided his men. Most of them were to spend the night, and if +necessary the next day and night, in combing the sand desert east of the +Mal-Pais. Here Lee had last been seen, and here probably she had wandered +round and round until the storm had beaten her down. It took little +imagination to vision the girl, flailed by the sweeping sand, bewildered +by it, choked at every gasping breath, hopelessly lost in the tempest. + +Yet some bell of hope rang in Billie's breast. She might have reached the +lava. If so, there was a chance that she might be alive. For though the +wind had sweep enough here, the fine dust-sand of the alluvial plain +could not be carried so densely into this rock-sea. Perhaps she had +slipped into a fissure and found safety. + +For fifty miles this great igneous bed stretches, a rough and broken sea +of stone, across the thirsty desert. Its texture is like that of slag +from a furnace. Once, in the morning of the world, it flowed from the +crater along the line of least resistance, a vitreous river of fire. In a +great molten mass it swept into the valleys, crawling like a great snake +here and there, pushing fiery tongues into every crevice of the hills. + +The margin of its flow is a cliff or steep slope varying in height from a +few feet to that of a good-sized tree. Between the silt plain and the +general level of its bed rises a terrace. In front of it Prince stopped +and distributed the men he had reserved to search the lava bed. He gave +definite, peremptory orders. + +"We'll keep about two hundred yards apart. Every twenty minutes each of +you will fire his revolver. If any of you find Miss Snaith or any +evidence of her, shoot three times in rapid succession. Each of you pass +the signal down the line by firing four shots. Those who hear the three +shots go in as fast as you can to the rescue. The others--those farther +away, who hear the four shots only--will turn an' work back to the plain, +continuing to fire once every twenty minutes. Do exactly as I tell you, +boys. If you don't, some one will be lost an' may never get out alive. If +any one of you gets out of touch with the rest of us, stay right where +you are till mornin', then come out by the sun." + +The horses were left in charge of a Mexican boy. The surface of the +deposit is so broken that even a man on foot has difficulty in traversing +it. Prince crawled forward from the terrace up the rough slope of the +cliff which at this point bounded it. At the top of the rim he rose and +came face to face with another man. + +"A good deal like frozen hell, Billie," the other said casually. + +"Where did you come from?" demanded the sheriff, amazed. + +Jim Clanton laughed grimly. "I've been with yore party half an hour. Why +shouldn't I be here when Lee Snaith is lost?" + +"You were hiding in Live-Oaks?" + +"Mebbeso. Anyway, I'm here. I'll take the right flank, Billie." + +"Do you think there's a chance, Jim?" The voice of Prince shook with +emotion. It was the first sign of distress he had given. + +Clanton reflected just a moment before he answered. "I think there's just +a chance. She saved our lives once, Billie. If she's alive we'll find +her, you an' me." + +"By God, yes." Prince turned away. He could not talk about it without +breaking down. + +In the stress of a great shock Billie had made a vital discovery. The +most important thing that would ever come to him in life was to find Lee +Snaith alive. How blind he had been! He could see her now in imagination, +as in reality he had seen her a hundred times, moving in the sun-pour +with elastic tread, full-throated and deep-chested, athrob with life in +every generous vein. How passionately she had loved things brave and +true! How anger had flamed up in her like fire among tow at meanness and +hypocrisy. Surely all the beauty of her person, the fineness of her +character, could not be blotted out so wantonly. If there was any economy +in his world God would never permit waste like that. + +He wanted her. His soul cried out for her. and stormily he prayed that he +might find her alive and well, that the chance might still be given him +to tell her how much he loved her. + +Sometimes he covered small distances where the flow structure was +comparatively smooth, broken only by minor irregularities. Again he came +to abrupt pits, deep caverns, tumbled heaps of broken slabs, or jagged +chunks of lava twisted into strange shapes. No doubt the volcanic flow +had hardened to a crust on top, cracked, and sunk into the furnace below. +This process must have gone on indefinitely. + +He crept from slab to slab, pulled himself across chasms, worked slowly +forward in the darkness. At intervals he fired and listened for an +answer. Occasionally there drifted to him the sound of a shot from one of +the other searchers. As the hours passed and brought to him no signal +that the girl had been found, his hopes ebbed. It was very unlikely that +she could have wandered so far into the bad lands as this. + +He shuddered to think of her alone in this vast tomb of death. Suppose +she were here and they never found her. Suppose she were asleep when he +passed, worn out by terror and exhaustion. His voice grew hoarse from +shouting. Sometimes, when the thought of her fate would become an agony +to him, he could hardly keep his shout from rising to a scream. + +Billie struck a match and looked at his watch. It was five minutes past +three. A faint gray was beginning to sift into the sky. He had been +nearly seven hours in the Mal-Pais. Out in God's country the world would +soon be shaking sleep from its eyes. In this death zone there was neither +waking nor sleeping. "Frozen hell," Clanton had called it. Prince +shuddered. + +The flare of the match had showed him that he was standing close to the +edge of a fissure. In the darkness he could not see to the bottom of it. + +A faint breath of a whimper floated to him. He grew rigid, every nerve +taut. He dared not let himself believe it could be real. Of course he was +imagining sounds. Presently, no doubt, he would hear voices. In this +devil's caldron a man could not stay quite sane. + +Again, as if from below his feet, was lifted a strangled, little sob. + +"Lee!" he called huskily with what was left of his voice. + +Something in the cavern moved. By means of outcropping spars of rock he +lowered himself swiftly. + +The darkness was Stygian. He struck another match. + +From the gloom beyond the space lit by the small flame came the rustle of +something stirring. The match burned out. He lit another and groped +forward. His foot struck an impediment. + +He looked down into the startled eyes and white face of Lee Snaith. + + + + +Chapter XXVI + +A Dust-Storm + + +It had been a beautiful day of sunshine when Lee left Live-Oaks to ride +to the Ninety-Four Ranch. Not a breath of wind stirred. The desert slept +in a warm, golden bath. It was peaceful as old age. + +But as the sun slipped past the meridian, gusts swept across the sands +and whipped into the air inverted cones that whirled like vast tops in a +wild race to nowhere. The air waves became more frequent and more +furious. When Lee passed the buckboard driver, the whole desert seemed +alive with stinging sand. + +He called something to her that was lost in the wind. The girl waved at +him a gauntleted hand. She had been out in dust-storms before and was not +in the least alarmed. Across the lower part of her face she had tied a +silk handkerchief to protect her mouth and nostrils from the sand. + +The mail carrier had scarcely disappeared before the fury of the wind +increased. It lashed the ground with heavy whips, raging and screaming in +shrill, whistling frenzy, until the desert rose in terror and began to +shift. + +Lee bent her head to escape the sand that filled her eyes and nostrils +and beat upon her cheeks so unmercifully. She thought perhaps the tempest +would abate soon and she slipped from the saddle to crouch close to the +body of the horse for protection. Instead of decreasing, the gale rose to +a hurricane. It was as if the whole sand plain was in continuous, +whirling motion. + +The horse grew frightened and restless. It was a young three-year-old Jim +Clanton had broken for her. Somehow--Lee did not know quite the way +it happened--the bridle rein slipped from her fingers and the colt was +gone. + +She ran after the pony--called to it frantically--fought in pursuit +against the shrieking blasts. The animal disappeared, swallowed in the +whirl-wind that encompassed her and it. Lee sank down, sheltering her +face with her arms against the pelting sand sleet. + +But years in the outdoor West had given Lee the primal virtue, courage. +She scorned a quitter, one who lay down or cried out under punishment. +Now she got to her feet and faced the storm. The closeness of her +horizon--her outstretched arms could almost touch the limit of +it--confused the mind of the girl. She no longer knew east from west, +north from south. With a sudden sinking of the heart she realized that +she was lost in this gray desert blizzard. + +Blindly she chose a direction and plunged forward. At times the wind hit +her like a moving wall and flung her to the ground. She would lie there +panting for a few moments, struggle to her knees, and creep on till in a +lull she could again find her feet. + +How much of this buffeting, she wondered, could one endure and live? The +air was so filled with dust that it was almost impossible to get a +breath. Her muscles ached with the flogging they were receiving. She was +so exhausted, her forces so spent, that the hinges of her knees buckled +under her. + +One of her feet struck against a rise in the ground and she stumbled. She +lay there motionless for what seemed a long time before it penetrated her +consciousness that one of her palms pained from a jagged cut the fall had +caused. Her body lay on sharp-pointed rocks. As far as they could reach, +the groping fingers of the girl found nothing but hard, rough stone. +Then, in a flash, the truth came to her. She had reached the Mal-Pais. + +She crept across the lava in an effort to escape the strangling wind. Its +rage followed her, drove the girl deeper into the bad lands. A renewal of +hope urged her on. In its rough terrain she might find shelter from the +tornado. In short stages, with rests between, she pushed into the +vitreous lake, dragged herself up from the terrace, fought forward +doggedly for what seemed to her an age. + +A crevice barred the way. The fissure was too wide to step across and was +perhaps ten feet deep. Lee slid into it, slipped, and fell the last step +or two of the descent. She lay where she had fallen, too worn out to +move. + +It must have been almost at once that she fell asleep. + +The stars were out when she awakened, her muscles stiff and aching from +the pressure of her weight upon the rock. The girl lay for a minute +wondering where she was. Above was a narrow bar of starlit sky. The walls +of her pit of refuge were within touch of her finger tips. Then memory of +the storm and her escape from it flashed back to her. + +She climbed easily the rough side of the cavern and looked around. The +wind had died so that not even a murmur of it remained. As far as the eye +could see the lava flow extended without a break. But she knew the cavern +in which she had slept lay at a right angle to the line of her advance. +All site had to do was to face forward and keep going till she reached +the plain. The reasoning was sound, but it was based on a wrong premise. +Lee had clambered out of the fissure on the opposite side from that by +which she had entered. Every step she took now carried her farther into +the bad lands. + +Morning broke to find her completely at sea. Even the boasted weather of +the Southwest played false. A drizzle of rain was in the air. Not until +late in the afternoon did the sun show at all and by that time the +wanderer was so deep in the Mal-Pais that when night closed down again +she was still its prisoner. + +She was hungry and fagged. The soles of her boots were worn out and her +feet were badly blistered. Again she took refuge in a deep crevice for +the night. + +The loneliness appalled her. No living creature was to be seen. In all +this awful desolation she was alone. Her friends at Live-Oaks would think +she was at the Ninety-Four Ranch. Even if they searched for her she would +never be found. After horrible suffering she would die of hunger and +thirst. She broke down at last and wept herself to sleep. + + + + +Chapter XXVII + +"A Lucky Guy" + + +Lee had the affrighted look of one roused suddenly from troubled dreams. +The whimper that had drawn the attention of Prince must have come from +her restless, tortured sleep. Not till his second match flared had she +been really awake. + +"Thank God!" he cried brokenly, all the pent emotion of the long night +vibrant in his tremulous voice. + +She began to sob, softly, pitifully. + +The match went out, but even in the blackness of the pit he could not +escape the look of suffering he had seen on her face. Her habit was to do +all things with high spirit. He could guess how much she had endured to +bring those hollow shadows under her dusky eyes. The woe of the girl +touched his heart sharply, as if with the point of a rapier. + +He stooped, lifted her gently, and gathered her like a hurt child into +his arms. "You poor lost lamb," he murmured. And again he cried, "Thank +God, I came in time." + +Her arms crept round his neck. She clung to him for safety, fearfully, +lest even now he might vanish from her sight. Long, ragged sobs shook the +body resting in his arms. He whispered words of comfort, stroked gently +the dark head of blue-black hair, held her firmly so that she might know +she had found a sure refuge from the fate that had so nearly devoured +her. + +The spasmodic quivering of the body died away. She dabbed at her eyes +with a rag of a handkerchief and withdrew herself from his arms. + +"I'm a nice baby," she explained with a touch of self-contempt. "But it's +been rather awful, Billie. I ... I didn't know whether ..." + +"It's been the worst night of my life," he agreed. "I've been in hell for +hours, dear. If--if anything had happened to you--" + +The heart of the girl beat fast. She told herself he did not mean--could +not mean what, with a sudden warmth of joy, her soul hunger had read +into his words. + +Prince uncorked his canteen and she drank. He gave her sandwiches and she +devoured them. After he had helped her from the fissure he fired three +shots. Faintly from the left came the answering bark of a revolver. What +might almost have been an echo of it drifted from the right. + +Lee Snaith was the most competent young woman the sheriff had ever met. +He knew her self-reliant and had always guessed her sufficient to +herself. Toward him especially he had sensed a suggestion of cool +hostility. They had been friends, but with a distinct note of reservation +on her part. + +To-night the mask was off. She had come too close to raw reality to think +of her pride. The morning light was sifting into the sky now. Billie +could see the girl more clearly as she sat on a slab of rock waiting for +the other searchers to join them. Was it his imagination that found in +her an unwonted shyness of the dark eyes, a gentle timidity of manner +when she looked at him? + +His emotion still raced at high tide. What an incomparable mate she would +be for any man! The rich contralto of her voice, the slow, graceful turn +of the exquisite head, the vividness she brought to all her activities! +How easy it was to light in her fine eyes laughter, indignation, the rare +smile of understanding! Life with her would be an adventure into the +hill-tops. With all his heart he yearned to take it beside her. + +There were strange flashes in his eyes to-night that signaled to her a +message she had despaired of ever receiving. The long lashes of the girl +fell to the hot cheeks. A pulse of excitement beat in her blood. A few +minutes before she had clung to him despairingly. Now she wanted to run +away and hide. + +He stepped close to her and let his hand fall lightly on her arm. + +"I've been blind all these years, Lee," he told her. "It's you I love." + +She stole a little look at him with shy, incredulous eyes. "Have you +forgotten--Polly?" + +"I haven't been in love with her for years, but I didn't know it till +about the Christmas holidays. She was a habit with me. There never was +a sweeter girl than Polly Roubideau. I'll always think a heap of her. +But--well, she had more sense than I had--knew all the time we weren't +cut out for each other." He laughed a little, flushing with +embarrassment. It is not the easiest thing in the world to explain to a +girl why you have neglected her in favor of another. + +Lee trembled. The desire was strong in her to seize her happiness while +she could. Surely she had waited long enough for it. But some impulse of +fair play to him or of justice to herself held back the tide of love she +longed to release. + +"I think ... you are impulsive," she said at last. "If you have anything +you want to tell me, better wait until ..." + +"Not another moment!" he cried. "I've been in torment all night. I ... I +thought I'd lost you forever. You don't care for me, of course. You +never have liked me very well, but--" + +"Haven't I?" she breathed softly, not looking at him. + +Love irradiated and warmed her. She forgot all she had suffered during +the years she had waited for him to know his mind. She forgot the +privations of the past two days. Her eyes were tender with the mist of +unshed tears. + +"It's going to be the biggest thing in my life. If there's any chance at +all I'll wait as long as you like. Of course, the idea's new to you +because you haven't ever thought of me that way--" + +"You know so much about it," she replied, a faint smile in her dark +eyes that had in it something of wistfulness, something of self-mockery. +She looked directly at him and let him have it full in the face. "I ought +to be ashamed of it, I suppose, but I'm not. I've thought of you--that +way--lots of times. All girls do, when they meet a man they like." + +"You like me?" + +She might have told him that her heart had been his ever since that first +week when she had met him and Clanton on the river. She might have added +that all he had needed to do was to whisper "Come" and she would have +galloped across New Mexico to meet him. But she made no such confession. + +"Yes, I ... like you," she said, a little tremor in her voice. + +He noticed that she did not look at him. Her eyes had fallen to the +fingers laced together on her lap. Under compulsion of his steady gaze +she lifted her lashes at last. What he read there was beyond belief. +The wonder of it lifted his feet from the earth. + +"Lee!" he cried, joy and fear in the balance. + +She answered his unspoken question with a little nod. + +His hand shook. "I've been a blind idiot, dear. I never guessed such a +thing." + +"You were thinking about Polly all the time. I don't blame you. She's the +sweetest thing I ever knew." + +Billie sat down on the spar of rock beside her. His hand slipped down her +arm till it covered hers. With the contact there came to him a flood of +courage. He took her in his arms and kissed her with infinite tenderness. + +Still unstrung from her adventures, she wept a little into his shoulder +out of a full heart. + +"D--don't mind me," she urged. "It's just because I'm so happy." + +If Clanton, when he found them together a few minutes afterward, guessed +what had happened, he gave no evidence of it but a grin, unless his later +comment had a cryptic meaning. "I'll bet Billie is the glad lad at +findin' you. He always was a lucky guy." + +"I think I'm a little lucky too," Lee said with a grave smile. + +Before starting, Prince examined the soles of the girl's boots. Out of +his hat he fashioned a pair of overshoes and fastened them with strings +to her feet. + +"They'll help some," he promised. "I reckon you're not goin' to do much +walkin' anyhow with three husky men along." + +By this time the searcher on the other flank had joined them. The return +trip was a long, hard one, but with Billie on one side of her, and Jim on +the other, Lee found it easy travelling. They aided her over the sharp +rocks and lifted her across the rougher stretches of lava. + +At the edge of the lava bed a buggy was waiting to take Lee to Live-Oaks +in case she should be found. Prince helped Lee in and took the place of +the boy who had driven it out. + +Clanton put his foot on the hub of the wheel. "Just a minute, Billie. I'm +wanted for the killin' of Homer Webb. I didn't shoot him an' I don't +know who did. Somebody must have been lyin' there in the chaparral +waitin' for him. I'll give myself up an' stand trial if you'll guarantee +me fair play. No lynchin' bee. No packed jury. All the cards dealt fair +an' honest above the table." + +The sheriff had smiled at Pauline Roubideau's implicit faith in Jim +Clanton's word. But now, face to face with his friend, he too believed +and felt a load lift from his heart. + +"That's a deal, Jim. You won't have to reckon with any mob or any +hand-picked jury, I'll tell you the truth. I thought you did it. But if +you say you didn't, that goes with me. I'll see you through." + +"Good enough. I'll drop in to-morrow an' we can fix things up. I'd like +to be tried outside of Washington County. There's too much prejudice here +one way an' another. Well, take this little lady home an' scold her good +for the way she's been actin'. She'd ought to get married to a man that +will look after her an' not let her go buckin' into cyclones." + +Billie smiled. "I'll talk to her about that, old scout." + +Miss Snaith blushed furiously, but the best she could do was a bit of +weak repartee. "I used to have hopes that you would ask me, Jim." + +Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em laughed with friendly malice. "I used to have hopes, +too, in that direction, Lee, but I haven't any more. You be good to her +or we also-rans will boil you in oil, Billie." + + + + +Chapter XXVIII + +Sheriff Prince Functions + + +"Yippy yip yip yip!" + +Old Reb, Quantrell's ex-guerrilla, now boss of mule-skinners for Prince, +galloped down the street waving an old dusty white hat. Women and +children and old men dribbled out from the houses, all eager for the +news. + +"Billie he found Miss Lee in the Mal-Pais. That boy sure had his lucky +pants on to-day. She's all right too. I done seen her myself--just a mite +tuckered out, as you might say," explained the former cowpuncher. + +Live-Oaks shook hands with itself in exuberant joy. For an hour the +school bell pealed out the good news. A big bonfire blazed in the +court-house square. Wise dames busied themselves baking bread and frying +doughnuts and roasting beef for the rescue party now homeward bound. It +was a certainty that their men-folks would all be hungry and ready for a +big feed. + +By noon most of the searchers were back in town and the saloons were +doing big business. When Prince drove down the main street of Live-Oaks +an hour later, the road was jammed as for a Fourth-of-July celebration. +Tired though she was, Lee had not the heart to disappoint these good +friends. She went to the picnic ground at Fremont's Grove and was hugged +and kissed by all the woman at the dinner. She wept and was wept over +till her lover decided she had had all the emotion that was good for her, +whereupon he took her back to the home of her aunt and with all the +newborn authority of his position ordered her to bed. + +"But it's only three o'clock in the afternoon," Lee protested. + +"Good-night," answered Billie inexorably. + +She surrendered meekly. "If you say I must, my lord. I _am_ awf'lly +tired." Little globes of gladness welled up in her eyes. "Everybody's so +good to me, Billie. I didn't know folks were so kind. I can't think what +I can ever do to pay them back." + +"I'll tell you how. You be good to yourself, honey," he told her with a +sudden wave of emotion as he caught and held her tight in his arms. "You +quit takin' chances with blizzards an' crazy gunmen an'--" + +"--And horsethieves hidden in the chaparral?" she asked with a flash of +demure eyes. + +"You're goin' to take an awful big chance with one ex-horsethief. Lee, +I'm the luckiest fellow on earth." + +She nestled closer to him. Her lips trembled to his kiss. + +"Billie, you're sure, aren't you?" she whispered. "It wasn't just pity +for me." + +He chose to reassure her after the fashion of a lover, in that wordless +language which is as old as Eden. + +His heart was full of her as he swung down the street buoyantly. He +had known her saucy, scornful, and imperious. He had known her gay +and gallant, had been the victim of her temper. Occasionally he had +seen glimpses of tenderness toward Pauline and of motherliness +toward Jim Clanton. But never until last night had he found her +dependent and clinging. Her defense against him had been a manner of cool +self-reliance. In the stress of her need that had been swept aside to +show her flamy and yet shy, quick with innocent passion. She wanted him +for a mate, just as he wanted her, and she made no concealment of it. In +the candor of her love he exulted. + +Lee slept round the clock almost twice and appeared for a late breakfast. +Her aunt told her some news with which Live-Oaks was buzzing. + +Go-Get-'Em Jim had ridden into town, stopped at the sheriff's office, and +demanded cynically the thousand dollars offered by the Webb estate for +his arrest. + +"He'll come to no good end," prophesied Miss Snaith, senior. + +"You don't quite understand him, aunt," protested Lee. "That's just his +way. He likes to grand-stand, and he does it rather well. But he isn't +half so bad as he makes out. He says he did not shoot Mr. Webb, and we +feel sure he didn't." + +"Of course he says so," replied the older woman indignantly. "Why +wouldn't he say so? But Dad Wrayburn was there and saw it all. There has +been a lot too much promiscuous killing and he's one of the worst of the +lot, your Jim Clanton is. Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em, indeed! I hope the law goes +and gets him now it has a chance." + +The opinion of Lee's aunt was in accord with the general sentiment. +Washington County had within the past year suffered a change of heart. It +had put behind its back the wild and reckless days of its youth when +every man was a law to himself. Bar-room orators talked virtuously of law +and order. They said it behooved the county to live down its evil +reputation as the worst in the United States. Times had changed. The +watchword now should be progress. It ought no longer to be a +recommendation to a man that he could bend a six-gun surer and quicker +than other folks. "Movers" in white-topped wagons were settling up the +country. A railroad had pushed in to Live-Oaks. There was a lot of talk +about Eastern capital becoming interested in irrigation and mining. It +was high time to remember that Live-Oaks and Los Portales were not now +frontier camps, but young cities. + +Since Live-Oaks had been good for so short a time it wanted to prove by a +shining example how it abhorred the lawlessness of its youth. At this +inopportune moment Clanton gave himself up to be tried for the murder of +Homer Webb. + +When the news spread that Clanton had been given a change of venue and +was to be tried at Santa Fe, the citizens of Live-Oaks were distinctly +annoyed. It was known that the sheriff had always been a good friend of +the accused man. The whisper passed that if he ever took Go-Get-'Em Jim +out of the county the killer would be given a chance to escape. + +Into town from the chaparral drifted the enemies Clanton had made during +his career as a gunman. Yankie and Albeen and Dumont and Bancock moved to +and fro in the crowds at the different gambling places and saloons. Even +Roush, who in the past three years had never given young Clanton an +opportunity to meet him face to face, stole furtively into the tendejons +of the Mexican quarter and spent money freely in treating. Among the +natives Go-Get-'Em Jim was in ill-repute for shooting a bad man named +Juan Ortez who had attempted to terrorize the town while on a spree. + +"We're spendin' a lot of good money on this job. We'd ought to pull it +off," Dumont whispered to Albeen. + +"Whose money?" asked the one-armed man cynically. + +It struck him as an ironic jest that the money they had got from the sale +of Homer Webb's cattle should be spent to bring about the lynching of the +man who had killed him. + +Both the sheriff and his deputy were out of town rounding up a half-breed +Mexican who had stabbed another at a dance. They reached Live-Oaks with +their prisoner about the middle of the afternoon. Lee was waiting for +them impatiently at the court-house. + +"They're planning to lynch Jim," she told Prince abruptly. + +"Who's goin' to do all that?" he asked. + +"The riff-raff of the county are back of it, but the worst of it is that +they've got a lot of good people in with them. Some of the Flying V Y +riders are in town too. I never saw so much drinking before." + +"When is it to be?" + +"I don't know." + +"Who told you?" + +"Bud Proctor. He says Yankie and Albeen and that crowd are spending +hundreds of dollars at the bars." + +"I knew there was somethin' on foot soon as we hit town--felt it in the +air." The sheriff looked at his watch. "We can just catch the afternoon +train, Jack. Take this bird downstairs an' lock him up. I'll join you in +a minute." + +"What are you going to do?" asked Lee as soon as they were alone. + +"Goin' to slip Jim aboard the train an' take him to Santa Fe." + +"Can you do it without being seen?" + +"I'll tell you that later," he answered with a grim smile. "Much obliged, +honey. I'm goin' to be right busy now, but I'll see you soon as I get +back to town." + +Lee nodded good-bye and wait out. She liked it in him that just now he +had no time even for her. From the door she glanced back. Already he was +busy getting his guns ready. + +Prince got his keys and unlocked the room where Clanton was. Jim was on +the bed reading an old newspaper. + +"Hello, Billie," he grinned. + +"We're leaving on the afternoon train, Jim. Get a move on you an' hustle +yore things together." + +"Thought you weren't goin' till next week." + +"Changed my mind. Jim, there's trouble afoot. Yore enemies are all in +town. I want to get you away." + +Clanton did not bat an eye. "Plannin' a necktie party, are they?" + +"They've got notions. Mine are different." "Do I get a gun if it comes to +a showdown, Billie?" + +"You do. I'll appoint you a deputy." + +Jim laughed. "That sounds reasonable." + +Goodheart joined them. The three men left the back door of the +court-house and cut across the square. The station was three blocks +distant. Before they had covered a hundred yards a boy on the other side +of the street stopped, stared at them, and disappeared into the nearest +saloon. + +The prisoner looked at his friend and grinned gayly. "Somethin' stirrin' +soon. We're liable to have a breeze in this neighborhood, looks like." + +They reached the station without being molested, but down the street +could be seen much bustle of men running to and fro. Prince looked at +them anxiously. + +"The clans are gathering," murmured Clanton nonchalantly, his hands in +his pockets. "Don't you reckon maybe you'll have to feed me to the +wolves after all, Billie?" + +A saddled horse blinked in the sun beside the depot, the bridle rein +trailing on the ground. Its owner sat on a dry-goods box and whittled. +Jim glanced at the bronco casually. Jack Goodheart also observed the +cowpony. He whispered to the sheriff. + +Prince turned to his prisoner. "Jim, you can take that horse an' hit the +dust, if you like." + +"Meanin' that you can't protect me?" + +The salient jaw of the sheriff tightened. He looked what he was, a man +among ten thousand, quiet and forceful, strong as tested steel. + +"You'll have exactly the same chance to weather this that we will." + +A mob of men was moving down the street in loose formation. There was +still time for a man to fling himself into the saddle and gallop away. + +"You'd rather I'd stay, Billie." + +"Yes. I'm sheriff. I'd like to show this drunken outfit they can't take a +prisoner from me." + +Clanton gave a little whoop of delight. "Go to it, son. You're law west +of the Pecos. Let's see you make it stick." + +Live-Oaks was as yet the terminus of the railroad. The train backed into +the station just as the first of the mob arrived. + +"Nothin' doin', Prince," announced Yankie, swaggering forward. "You're +not goin' to take this fellow Clanton away. We've come to get him." + +"That's right," agreed Albeen. + +Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em grinned. "Makes twice now you've come to get me." + +"We didn't make it go last time. Different now," said Bancock, moving +forward. + +"That's near enough," ordered Prince. "You've made a mistake, boys. I'm +sheriff of Washington County, and this man's my prisoner." + +"He's yore old side kick, too, ain't he?" jeered Yankie. + +Goodheart, following the orders he had received, moved forward to the +engine and climbed into the cab beside the engineer and fireman. The +sheriff and his prisoner backed to the steps of the smoking-car. Billie +had had a word with the brakeman, his young friend Bud Proctor, who had +at once locked the door at the other end of the smoker. + +"Now," said Prince in a low voice. + +Jim ran up lightly to the platform of the coach and passed inside. A howl +of anger rose from the mob. There was a rush forward. Billie was on the +lower step. His long leg lifted, the toe caught Yankie on the point of +the chin, and the rustler went back head first into the crowd as though +he had been shot from a catapult. + +Instantly Prince leaped for the platform and whirled on the mob. He held +now a gun in each hand. His eyes glittered dangerously as they swept +the upturned faces. They carried to every man in the crowd the message +that his prisoner could not be taken as long as the sheriff was alive. + +Clanton threw open a window of the coach, rested his arms on the sill, +and looked out. Again there was a roar of rage and a forward surge of the +dense pack on the station platform. + +"He ain't even got irons on the man's hands!" a voice shouted. "It's a +frame-up to git him away from us!" + +"Don't hide back there in the rear, Roush. Come right up to the front an' +tell me that," called back Prince. "You're right about one thing. I don't +need to handcuff Clanton. He has surrendered for trial, an' I'm here to +see he gets a fair one. I'll do it if I have to put irons _in_ his +hands--shootin' irons." + +Jim Clanton, his head framed in the window, laughed insolently. He was a +picture of raffish, devil-may-care ease. + +"Don't let Billie bluff you, boys. We can't bump off more'n a dozen or so +of you. Hop to it." + +"You won't laugh so loud when the rope's round yore gullet," retorted +Albeen. + +"That rope ain't woven, yet," flung back the young fellow coolly. + +Even as he spoke a lariat whistled through the air. Jim threw up a hand +and the loop slid harmlessly down the side of the car. One of the riders +of the Flying V Y had tried to drag the prisoner out with a reata. + +"You mean well, but you'll never win a roping contest, Syd," jeered +Clanton. "Good of you an' all my old friends to gather here to see me +off, I see you back there, Roush. It's been some years since we met, an' +me always lookin' for you to say to you a few well-chosen words. I'll +shoot straighter next time." + +The vigilantes raised a howl of fury. They were like a wolf pack eager +for the kill. Between them and their prey stood one man, cool, +indomitable, steady as a rock. He held death in each hand, every man +present knew it. They could get Clanton if they were willing to pay the +price, but though there were game men in the mob, not one of them +wanted to be the first to put his foot on the lower step of the coach. + +From the other end of the car came the sudden noise of hammering. Some +one had found a sledge in the baggage-room and with a dozen armed men +back of him was trying to break down the door. + +Prince called to his prisoner. "You've got to get in this, Jim. I appoint +you deputy sheriff. Unstrap this belt from my waist. Take the other end +of the car an' hold it. No shootin' unless it comes to a showdown. +Understand?" + +Clanton nodded. His eyes gleamed. "I'll behave proper, Billie." + +Five seconds later the beating on the door stopped. The eyes of the big +blacksmith with the hammer popped out with a ludicrous terror. Go-Get-'Em +Jim was standing in the aisle grinning at him with a six-gun in each +hand. With a wild whoop the horseshoer dropped the sledge and turned. He +flung himself down the steps carrying with him half a dozen others. Not +till he was safe in his own shop two blocks away did he stop running. + +A shrill whistle rang out from the side of the train farthest from the +station. The wheels began to move slowly. There was a rush for the +engine. Jack Goodheart stood in the door of the cab ready for business. + +"No passengers allowed here, boys," he announced calmly. "Take the +coaches in the rear." + +A dozen revolvers cracked. There was a rattle of breaking windows. The +engine, baggage-car, and smoker moved forward, leaving the rest of the +train on the track. + +Men, swarming like ants, had climbed to the top of the cars, evidently +with some idea of getting at their victim from above. Some of these were +on the forward coaches. They began to drop off hurriedly as the station +fell to the rear. + +The wheels turned faster. Bud Proctor swung aboard and joined the +sheriff. + +"I cut off the other cars and gave the signal to start," he explained +triumphantly. + +"Good boy, Bud. Knew I could tie to you," Prince answered with the warm +smile that always won him friends. + +They passed into the car together. Clanton was leaning far out of the +window waving a mocking hand of farewell to the crowd on the platform. He +drew his head in and handed the weapons back to his friend. + +"Don't I make a good deputy, Billie? I didn't fire even once." + + + + +Chapter XXIX + +"They Can't Hang Me If I ain't There" + + +The jury brought in a verdict of murder in the first degree. Clanton was +sentenced to be hanged at Live-Oaks four weeks after the day the trial +ended. Prince himself had been called back to Washington County to deal +with a band of rustlers who had lately pulled off a series of bold, +wholesale cattle thefts. He left Goodheart to bring the prisoner back +with him in case of a conviction. + +The deputy sheriff left the train at Los Vegas, to which point Prince had +sent a man with horses to meet Jack and the convicted murderer. It was +not likely that the enemies of Clanton would make another attempt to +frustrate the law, but there was a chance that they would. Goodheart did +not take the direct road to Live-Oaks, but followed the river valley +toward Los Portales. + +The party reached the Roubideau ranch at dusk of the third night. Pauline +had been at the place three months keeping house for her father. She flew +to meet Jim, her eyes filled with a divine pity. Both hands went out to +his manacled ones impulsively. Her face glowed with a soft, welcoming +warmth. + +"You poor boy! You poor, poor boy!" she cried. Then, flaming, she turned +on Goodheart: "Bel et bien! Why do you load him down with chains? Are you +afraid of him?" + +The deputy flushed. "I have no right to take any chances of an escape. +You know that." + +"I know he is innocent. Why did they find him guilty?" + +"I had no evidence," explained Jim simply. "Dad Wrayburn swore I shot +twice at Webb just before I disappeared in the brush. Then a shot came +out of the chaparral. It's not reasonable to suppose some one else fired +it, especially when the bullet was one that fitted a forty-four." + +"But you didn't fire it. You told me so in your letter." + +"My word didn't count with the jury. I'd have to claim that, anyhow, to +save my life. My notion is that the bullet didn't come from a six-gun at +all, but from a seventy-three rifle. But I can't prove that either." + +"It isn't fair. It--it's an outrage." Polly burst into tears and took the +slim young fellow into her arms. "They ought to know you wouldn't do +that. Why didn't your friends tell them so?" + +He smiled, a little wistfully. "A gunman doesn't have friends, Polly. +Outside of you an' Lee an' Billie I haven't any. All the newspapers in +the territory an' all the politicians an' most of the decent people have +been pullin' for a death sentence. Well, they've got it." He stroked her +hair softly. "Don't you worry, girl. They won't get a chance to hang me." + +Pauline released him, dabbed at her eyes, and ran, choking, into the +house. + +"You've got to be in trouble to make a real hit with Miss Roubideau," +suggested the lank deputy, a little bitterly. "I'll take those bracelets +off now, Clanton. You can wash for supper." + +Polly saw to it, anyhow, that the prisoner had the best to eat there was +in the house. She made a dinner of spring chicken, mashed potatoes, hot +biscuits, jelly, and apple pie. + +A rider for the Flying V Y dropped in after they had eaten and bridled +like a turkey cock at sight of Clanton. + +"Don't you let him git away from you, Jack," he warned the officer. +"We're allowin' to have a holiday on the sixth up at our place so as to +go to the show. It _is_ the sixth, ain't it?" he jeered, turning to the +handcuffed man on the lounge. + +"The sixth is correct," answered Jim coolly, meeting him eye to eye. + +"You wouldn't talk that way if Clanton was free," said Goodheart. "You're +taggin' yoreself a bully an' a cheap skate when you do it." + +"Say, is that any of yore business, Mr. Deputy Sheriff?" + +"It is when you talk to my prisoner. Cut it out, Swartz." + +"All right." + +The cowpuncher turned to Pauline, who had come to the door and stood +there. "You'll be goin' to the big show on the sixth, Miss Roubideau. +Live-Oaks will be a sure-enough live town that day." + +The young woman walked straight up to the big cowpuncher. Her eyes +blazed. "Get out of this house. Don't ever come here again. Don't speak +to me if you meet me." + +The Flying V Y rider was taken aback. Like a good many young fellows +within a radius of a hundred miles, he was a candidate for the favor of +Pierre Roubideau's daughter. + +"Why, I--I--" he stammered. "I didn't aim for to offend you. This fellow +bushwhacked my boss. He--" + +"That isn't true," she interrupted. "He didn't do it." + +"Sure he did it. Go-Get-'Em Jim is a killer. A girl like you, Miss +Roubideau, has got no business stickin' up for a bad man who--" + +"Didn't you hear me? I told you to go." + +"You've been invited to remove yoreself from the place an' become a part +of the outdoor scenery, Swartz," cut in Goodheart, a snap to his jaw. +"I'd take that invite pronto if I was you." + +The cowpuncher picked up his hat and walked out. The drawling voice of +the prisoner followed him. + +"Don't you worry, Polly. They can't hang me if I ain't there, can they?" + +The deputy guessed that Pauline wished to talk alone with Clanton. +Presently he arose and sauntered to the door. "I want to see yore father +about some horses Billie needs. Back soon." + +He gave them a half-hour, but he took pains to see that his assistant +covered the back door while he watched the front of the house. The +prisoner was handcuffed, but Jack did not intend to take any chances. +Personally he believed that Clanton was guilty, but whether he was or not +it was his duty to bring the convicted man safely to Live-Oaks. This he +meant to do. + + + + +Chapter XXX + +Polly has a Plan + + +Pauline moved across the room and sat down beside Jim. An eager light +shone in her soft, brown eyes. + +"Listen!" she ordered in a low voice. "I've got a plan. There's a chance +that it will work, I think. But tell me first about your sleeping +arrangements. Does Jack or the other guard sit up and watch you all the +time?" + +"No. The champion roper of New Mexico, Arizona, an' Texas throws the +diamond hitch on yours truly. He does an expert job, tucks me up, an' +says good-night. He knows I'm perfectly safe till mornin', especially +since both he an' Brad sleep in the same room with me." + +"Well, I'm going to give you dad's room." She leaned forward and +whispered to him steadily for five minutes. + +The sardonic mockery had vanished from the face of the prisoner. He +listened, every nerve and fiber of him at alert attention. Occasionally +he asked a question. Carefully she explained the plan, going over each +detail of it again and again. + +Jim Clanton was efficient. In those days it was a necessary quality for a +bad man if he wished to continue to function. He offered a suggestion or +two which Pauline incorporated in her proposed campaign of action. At +best her scheme was hazardous. It depended upon all things dovetailing +properly. But he was in no place to pick and choose. All he asked was a +chance and an even break of luck. + +"You dandy girl!" he cried softly, and took her two hands between the +palms of his fettered ones. "I'm a scalawag, Polly. But if you pull this +off for me, I'll right-about-face. That's a promise. Somehow I've never +acted like I wanted to. I've done a heap of wild an' foolish things, an' +I've killed whenever it was put up to me. I don't reckon any woman that +married me would be real happy. But if you'll take a chance 111 go away +from here an' well Make a fresh start. You're the only girl there is for +me." + +A faint smile lay in her eyes. "You used to think Lee was the only girl, +didn't you?" + +"Well, I don't now. I like Polly Roubideau better." + +Abruptly she flung at him a statement that was a question. "You didn't +kill Mr. Webb." + +"No. I never killed but one man without givin' him an even break. That +was Peg-Leg Warren, an' he was a cold-blooded murderer." + +A troubled little frown creased her forehead. "I've thought for more than +a year now that you--liked me that way. And I've had it in my mind +a great deal as to what I ought to do if you spoke to me about it. I wish +you had a good wife, Jim. Maybe she could save you from yourself." + +"Mebbe she could, Polly." + +The lashes of her eyelids fell. She looked down at the bands of iron +around his small wrists. "I--I've prayed over it, Jim. But I'm not clear +that I've found an answer." Her low voice broke a little. "I don't know +what to say." + +"Is it that you are afraid of what I'm goin' to be? Can't you trust yore +life with me? I shouldn't think you could." + +Her eyes lifted and met his bravely. "I think that wouldn't stop me +if--if I cared for you that way." + +"It's Billie Prince, then, is it?" + +"No, it isn't Billie Prince. Never mind who it is. What I must decide is +whether I can make you the kind of wife you need without being exactly--" + +"In love with me," he finished for her. + +"Yes. I've always liked you very much. You've been good to me. I love you +like a brother, I think. Oh, I don't know how to say it." + +"Let's get this straight, Polly. Is there some one else you love?" + +A tide of color flooded her face to the roots of the hair. She met his +steady look reluctantly. + +"We needn't discuss that, Jim." + +"Needn't we?" He laughed a little, but his voice was rough with feeling. +"You're the blamedest little pilgrim ever I did see. What kind of a +fellow do you think I am? I ain't good enough for you--not by a thousand +miles. Even if you felt about me the way I do about you, it would be a +big risk for you to marry me. But now--Sho, little missionary, I ain't so +selfish as to let you sacrifice yore life for me." + +"If I marry you it will be because I want to, Jim." + +"You'll want to because you're such a good little Christian you think +it's up to you to save a brand from the burning. But I won't let you do +any such foolishness. You go marry that other man. If he's a good, +square, decent fellow, you'll be a whole lot better off than if you tied +up with a ne'er-do-well like me." + +They heard a step on the porch. + +"Don't forget. Three taps if you're alone in the room," she said in a +whisper. + +Goodheart came into the parlor with Pierre Roubideau. "Expect we'd better +turn in, Clanton. We've got to make an early start to-morrow." + +The prisoner rose at once. Pauline had drawn her father aside and was +giving him some instructions. The old Frenchman nodded, smiling. He +understood her little feminine devices and was a cheerful victim of them. + +The young woman found a chance for a word alone with the deputy. + +"I want to see you to-night, Jack, about--something." Her eyes were very +bright and the color in the soft cheeks high. She spoke almost in a +whisper. + +The lank young sheriff had the soul of an inarticulate poet. Beneath the +tan of his leathery face the blood burned. This was the first really kind +word he had had from her since their arrival. All her solicitation had +been for the condemned youth in his care. Perhaps all she wanted now was +to ask some favor for Clanton, but hope leaped in his heart. + +He made arrangements for the night in his usual careful way. It was not +pleasant to have to watch the prisoner as a cat does a mouse, but +Goodheart was thorough in whatever he undertook. Skillfully he tied +Clanton in such a way as to allow him enough freedom of motion to change +position without giving him enough to make it possible for him to untie +himself. + +"Back after a while" he told Jim. + +The young man on the bed grunted sleepily and the deputy returned to the +parlor. + +Pauline, still in her kitchen apron, smiled in at the door upon him and +her father. + +"You two go out on the porch and smoke your pipes," she said. "I have to +finish my work in the kitchen, then I have to go down to the cellar and +take care of the milk. Ill not be long." + +Pierre, an obedient parent, rose and moved toward the porch. Before +he left the room Goodheart took the precaution to lock the bedroom +door and pocket the key. He was a little ashamed of this, but he knew +that Go-Get-'Em Jim was a very competent and energetic person. Convicted +and sentenced though he was, Clanton still boasted with cool aplomb that +there would be no hanging on the sixth. The deputy strolled round to the +back of the house to make sure his assistant was still on the job. After +a few words with the man he returned to the porch. He was satisfied there +was no possible chance of an escape. The prisoner lay handcuffed and tied +to a bed by the champion roper of the Southwest. The door of the room was +locked Both exits from the house were guarded. Jack felt that he could +safely enjoy a smoke. + + + + +Chapter XXXI + +Goodheart Makes a Promise and Breaks It + + +Pauline was a singularly honest little soul, but she now discovered in +herself unsuspected capacity for duplicity. She went singing about her +work, apparently care-free as a lark. Presently, still humming a French +chanson, she appeared on the porch swinging a key, passed the two men +with a gay little nod, and disappeared around the corner of the house +to the cellar. + +The rancher apologized for the key. "We've had to lock the cellar lately +since so many movers have been going through on this road. Eh bien! Our +hams--they took wings and flew." + +Polly rattled the milk pans for a moment or two and then listened. From +above there came to her the sound of three faint raps on the woodwork of +the bed. She crept up the stairs that led from the cellar into the house. +At the top of them was a trapdoor. Very slowly and carefully she pushed +this up. Through the opening she passed into a bedroom. + +Softly the girl stole to the bed. From the cellar she had brought a +butcher knife and with this she sawed at the rope which bound the +prisoner. + +"But your handcuffs. What can we do about them?" she whispered. + +Clanton stretched his stiff muscles. He made no answer in words. For a +moment or two his arms writhed, then from out of the iron bracelet his +long slender hand slowly twisted. Soon the second wrist was also free. + +"I've had a lot of fun poked at my girl hands, but they come in useful +sometimes," he murmured. + +"I'll have to hurry back or I'll be missed," she told him. "You'll find a +saddled horse in the aspens." + +He caught her by the shoulders and held her fast. "You've been the +truest little friend ever a man had. You've stuck by me an' believed in +me even when I didn't believe in myself any longer. No matter what folks +said about me or about you for takin' an interest in such a scamp, you +never quit fightin' to keep me decent. I've heard tell of guardian +angels--well, that's what you've been to me, little pilgrim." + +"I haven't forgotten the boy who rode up Escondido Cañon to save me from +death and dishonor," Pauline cried softly. + +"You've paid that debt fifty times. I owe you more than I can tell. I +wisht I knew a way to pay it." + +Her soft and dusky eyes clung to his pleadingly. "If you get away, Jim, +you _will_ be good, won't you?" + +"I'll be as good as I've got it in me to be. I don't know how good that +is, Polly. But I'll do my level best." + +"Oh, I'm so glad," she whispered. "Good luck--heaps of it." + +He was not quite sure whether it was his privilege to kiss the parted red +lips upturned to him, but he took a chance and was not rebuked. + +Pauline went noiselessly down the steps again into the cellar while +Clanton held the trapdoor. He lowered it inch by inch so that it would +not creak, then spread over it the Navajo rug that had been there before +the entrance of the girl. + +Pierre Roubideau was still on his first pipe when Polly came round the +corner of the house and stopped at the porch steps. + +"I want to show you our new colt, Jack," she said to the deputy. This +matter-of-fact statement came a little shyly and a little tremulously +from her lips. Her heart was beating furiously. + +The officer rose at once. "Just a minute," he said, and went into the +house. + +He unlocked the door of the room where Clanton was and glanced in. The +prisoner lay on the bed in the moonlight, the blankets drawn over him. +From his deep, regular breathing Jack judged him to be asleep. He +relocked the door and joined Pauline. + +The face of the girl was very white in the moonlight. Her big eyes +flashed at him a question. Had he discovered that his prisoner was free? + +They walked slowly toward the corral. From it Goodheart could see the +front of the house, but not the cellar entrance at the side. Neither of +them spoke until they reached the fence. He turned and leaned his elbows +against it, facing the house. + +Pauline was under great nervous tension. Her lips were dry and her throat +parched. If the guard at the rear caught sight of the prisoner while he +was escaping, Clanton would certainly be shot down. She knew Jim better +than to hope that he would let himself be taken again alive. + +The conscience of the girl troubled her too. She was doing this to save +the life of a friend, but it was impossible not to feel a sense of +treachery toward this other friend whose approval was so much more +vital to her happiness. Would Jack think that she had conspired against +his honor in an underhanded way? He was a man of strict principles. Would +he cast her off and have no more to do with her? + +She woke from her worries to discover that an emotional climax was +imminent. Jack was telling her, in awkward, broken phrases, of his love +for her. Polly had waited a long time for his confession, but coming at +this hour it filled/her with shame and distress. What an evil chance that +he should be blurting out the story of his faith and trust in her +while she was in the act of betraying him! + +"Don't, Jack, don't!" she begged. + +"It's all right," he said gently. "I know you don't care for me. But I +had to tell you. Just had to do it. Couldn't keep still any longer. It's +all right, Polly. I can stand it. I didn't go for to worry you." + +She wept. + +Her tears distressed him. He urged her to forget his presumption. She had +been so good to him that he had spoken in spite of himself. + +Pauline found she could not let him deceive himself. If she let him go +now, perhaps he might never come back. + +"You goose!" + +Though the words came smothered through her handkerchief, he gained +incredible comfort from them. + +"Polly!" he cried. + +"Don't you say a word, Jack," she ordered. "Let me do the talking." + +"If you'll tell me that--that--you care anything for--for--" + +"--For a big stupid who is too modest ever to think enough of himself," +she completed. "Well, I do. I care a great deal for him." + +"You don't mean--" + +"I do, too. That's just what I mean. No, you keep back there till I'm +through, Jack. I want to find out if you love me as much as I do you." + +"Polly!" he cried a second time. + +Her small face was very serious and white in the moonshine. + +"Suppose we don't agree about something. Say I do a thing that seems +right to me, but it doesn't seem right to you. What then?" + +"It'll seem right to me if you do it," he answered. + +"That's just a compliment." + +"No, it's the truth. Whatever you do seems right to me." + +"But suppose I do something that you think is wrong. Perhaps it may seem +to you disloyal." + +"If you do it because you think you ought to I'll not find it disloyal." + +"Sure, Jack?" + +"Certain sure," he answered. + +"It's a promise?" + +"It's a promise." + +Little imps of mischief bubbled into the brown eyes. "Then why don't you +kiss me, goose?" + +He caught her to him with a fierce rapture. + +There came to them the sudden sound of drumming hoofs. A shot rang out in +the night. Goodheart, with the first kiss of his sweetheart almost on his +lips, flung Pauline aside and ran to the house. + +The other guard met him at the front steps. "By God, he's gone!" the man +cried. + +"Clanton?" + +"Yep." + +"Can't be. He was handcuffed, tied to the bed, and locked in. I've got +the key in my pocket." + +The deputy sheriff took the steps at one bound, flung himself across the +parlor, and unlocked the door. One glance showed him the empty bed, the +displaced rug, and the trapdoor. He stepped forward and picked up the +bits of rope and the handcuffs. + +"Some one cut the rope and freed him," he said, confounded at the +impossibility of the thing that had occurred. + +"Must of slipped his hands out of the cuffs, looks like," the guard +suggested. + +"He got me to give him a bigger size--complained they chafed his wrists." + +"Some trick that, if he _has_ got kid hands." + +The chill eyes of Goodheart gimleted into those of his assistant. "Did +you do this, Brad? God help you if you did." + +A light step sounded on the threshold. Pauline came into the room. "I did +it, Jack," she said. + +"You!" + +"I came up through the trapdoor when I was in the cellar. I cut the rope +and told him there was a horse saddled in the aspens." + +Thoughts raced in his bewildered mind. She had planned all this +carefully. Almost under his very eyes she had done it. Then she had lured +him from the house to give Clanton a better chance. She had let him make +love to her so that she could keep him at the corral while the prisoner +escaped. It was all a trick. Even now she was laughing up her sleeve +at the way she had made a fool of him. + +"You saddled the horse and left it there." His statement was a question, +too. + +"Yes. I had to save him. I knew he was innocent." + +All the explanations she had intended shriveled up before the scorn in +his eyes. He brushed past her without a word and strode out of the house. + +Pauline went to her room and flung herself on the bed. After a time her +father came in and sat down beside the girl. He put a gentle hand on her +shoulder. + +"I know what you think, dad," she said without turning her head. "But I +couldn't help it, I had to do it." + +"It may make you trouble, ma petite." + +"I can't help that. Jim didn't kill Mr. Webb. I know it." + +"After a fair trial a jury said he did, Polly. We have to take their word +for it." + +"You think I did wrong then." + +"You did what you think was right. In my heart is no blame for you." + +He comforted her as best he could and left her to sleep. But she did not +sleep. All through the night she lay and listened. She was miserably +unhappy. Her head and her heart ached. Jack had promised that she should +be the judge of what was right for her to do, and at the first test he +had failed her. She made excuses for him, but the hurt of her +disappointment could not be assuaged. + +In the early morning she heard the clatter of horses' hoofs in the yard. +During the night she had not undressed. Now she rose and went out to meet +her lover. He was at the stable, a gaunt figure, hollow-eyed, dusty, and +stern. He had failed to recapture his prisoner. + +"Jack," she pleaded, reaching out a hand timidly toward him. + +Again he rejected her advance in grim silence. Swinging to the saddle, he +rode out of the gate and down the road toward Live-Oaks. + +With a little whimper Polly moved blindly to the house through her tears. + + + + +Chapter XXXII + +Jim Takes a Prisoner + + +After Goodheart left the room where his prisoner was confined, Clanton +waited a few moments till the sound of his footsteps had died away. He +rose, moved noiselessly across the floor, and raised the trapdoor slowly. +The creaking of the rusty hinges seemed to Jim to be shouting aloud the +news of his escape. The young fellow descended into the cellar and stood +there without moving till his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. He +groped his way to the door, which Pauline had left open an inch or +two. Carefully he edged through and crouched in the gloom at the foot of +the steps. + +Not far away some one was whistling cheerfully. Clanton recognized the +tune as the usual musical offertory of Brad. He was giving "Uncle Ned" to +an unappreciative world. + +The fugitive crept up the steps and peered over the top. Brad was sitting +on a bench against the wall. Evidently he was quite comfortable and had +no intention of moving. The guard was so near that it would not be a fair +risk to try to make a dash across the moonlit open for the aspen grove. +He was so far that before the prisoner could reach him his gun would be +in action. There was nothing to do but wait. Jim huddled against the +sustaining wall while with the passing minutes his chance of escape +dipped away. + +Pierre Roubideau came round the corner of the house and joined Brad. The +guard made room for him on the bench. If Roubideau sat down, the man +in the shadow knew he was lost. They would sit there and chat till +Goodheart came back and discovered his absence. + +The rancher hesitated while he felt for his pipe. "Reckon I left it in +the kitchen," he said. + +Brad followed him round the corner of the house. Clanton waited no +longer. They might return, or they might not. He did not intend to stay +to find out. + +Swiftly he ran toward the aspens. Half the distance he had covered when a +voice called sharply to halt. The guard had turned and caught sight of +him. + +The feet of the running man slapped the ground faster. As he dodged into +the trees a bullet flew past him. Yet a moment, and he had flung himself +astride the bronco waiting there and had electrified that sleepy animal +into life. + +The pony struck its stride immediately. It took the rising ground at a +gallop, topped the hill, and disappeared over the brow. The rider plunged +into the thick mesquite. He knew that Goodheart would pursue, but he +knew, too, that the odds were a hundred to one against capture if he +could put a mile or two between him and the Roubideau ranch. A man could +vanish in any one of fifty draws. He could find a temporary hiding-place +up any gulch under cover of the matted brush. Therefore he turned toward +the mountains. + +Since he was unarmed, it was essential that Clanton should get into touch +with his associates of the chaparral at once. Until he had a six-gun +strapped to his side and a carbine under his leg he would not feel +comfortable. All night he traveled, winding in and out of cañons, +crossing divides, and dipping down into little mountain parks. He knew +exactly where he wanted to go, and he moved toward his destination in the +line of greatest economy. + +Morning found him descending from a mountain pass to the Ruidosa. + +"Breakfast soon, you wall-faced old Piute," Jim told his mount. "You're +sure a weary caballo, but we got to keep hitting the trail till we cross +that hogback." + +A thin film of smoke rose from a little valley to the left. Clanton drew +up abruptly. He had no desire to meet now any strangers whose intentions +had not been announced. + +Swiftly, with a pantherish smoothness of motion, he slid from the cowpony +and moved to the edge of a bluff that looked down into the arroyo below. +He crept forward and peered through a clump of cactus growing at the edge +of the escarpment. + +The camp-fire was at the very foot of the bluff. A man was stooped over +it cooking breakfast. + +The heart of the fugitive lost a beat, then raced wildly. The camper was +Devil Dave Roush. A rifle lay beside him. His revolver was in a cartridge +belt that had been tossed on a boulder within reach of his hand. + +Clanton wriggled back without a sound from the edge of the cliff and rose +to his feet. A savage light of triumph blazed in his eyes. The enemy +for whom he had long sought was delivered into his hands. He ran back to +the bronco and untied the reata from the tientos. Deftly he coiled the +rope and adjusted the loop to suit him. Again he stole to the rim rock +and waited with the stealthy, deadly patience of the crouched cougar. + +Roush rose. His arms fell to his sides. Instantly the rope dropped, +uncoiling as it flew. With perfect accuracy the loop descended upon its +victim and tightened about his waist, pinning the arms close to the body. + +Clanton, hauled in the rawhide swiftly. Dragged from his feet, Roush +could make no resistance. Before he could gather his startled wits, he +found himself dangling in midair against the face of the rock wall. + +The man above fastened the end of the rope to the roots of a scrub oak +and ran down the slope at full speed. In less than half a minute he was +standing breathless in front of his prisoner. + +Already shaken with dread, Roush gave way to panic fear at sight of him. + +"Goddlemighty! It's Clanton!" he cried. + +Jim buckled on the belt and appropriated the rifle. His grim face told +Roush all he needed to know. + +There had been a time when Roush, full of physical life and energy, had +boasted that he feared no living man. In his cups he still bragged of his +bad record, of his accuracy as a gunman, of his gameness. But he knew, +and his associates suspected, that Devil Dave had long since drunk up his +courage. His nerves were jumpy and his heart bad. Now he begged for his +life abjectly. If he had been free from the rope that held him dangling +against the wall, he would have crawled like a whipped cur to the feet of +his enemy. + +At a glance Clanton saw Roush had been camping alone. The hobbled +horse, the blankets, the breakfast dishes, all told him this. But he +took no chances. First he saddled the horse and brought it close to the +camp-fire. When he sat down to eat the breakfast the rustler had cooked, +it was with his back to the bluff and the rifle across his knees. + +"This here rope hurts tur'ble--seems like my wrists are on fire," whined +the man. "You let me down, Mr. Clanton, and I'll explain eve'ything. I +want to be yore friend. I sure do. I don't feel noways onfriendly to you. +Mebbe I used to be a bad lot, but I'm a changed man now." + +Go-Get-'Em Jim said nothing. He had not spoken once, and his silence +filled the roped man with terror. The shifting eyes of Devil Dave read +doom in the cold, still ones of his enemy. + +Sometimes Roush argued in a puling whimper. Sometimes his terror rose to +the throat and his entreaties became shrieks. He died a dozen deaths +while his foe watched him with a chill stillness more menacing than any +threats. + +The first impulse of Clanton had been to stamp out the life of this man +just as he would that of a diamond-backed rattlesnake; but he meant to +take his time about it and to see that the fellow suffered. Not until he +was halfway through the meal did the memory of his pledge to Pauline jump +to his mind. Quickly he pushed it from him. He had not meant to include +Roush in his promise. As soon as he had made an end of this ruffian he +would turn over a new leaf. But not yet. Roush was outside the pale. His +life belonged to Jim. He would be a traitor to the memory of his sister +if he let the villain go. + +The lust for vengeance swelled in the young man's blood like a tide. It +was his right to kill; more, it was his duty. So he tried to persuade +himself. But deep within him a voice was making itself heard. It +whispered that if he killed Roush now, he could never look Pauline +Roubideau in the face again. She had fought gallantly for his soul, and +at last he had pledged his honor to a new course. Not twelve hours ago +she had risked her reputation to save his life. If he failed her now, it +would be a betrayal of all the desires and purposes that had of late been +stirring in him. + +Clammy beads of sweat stood on his forehead. He had been given a new +chance, and it warred with every inherited instinct of his nature. The +fight within was cruel and bitter. But when he rose, his breakfast +forgotten, it was won. He would let Roush go unhurt. He would do it for +the sake of Polly Roubideau, who had been such a good friend to him. + +Devil Dave, ghastly with fear, was still pleading for his life. Clanton, +who had heard nothing of what the fellow had been saying in the past ten +minutes, came to a sudden alert attention. + +"I'll go into court an' swear it if you'll let me be. I'll tell the jedge +an' the jury that Joe Yankie told me an' Albeen an' Dumont that he +bushwhacked Webb an' then cut his stick so that you-all got the blame. +Honest to God, I will, Mr. Clanton. Jest you trust me an' see." + +"When did Yankie tell you that?" + +"He done told us at the camp-fire one night. He made his brags how you +got the blame for it an' would have to hang." + +"Albeen heard him say it--an' Dumont too?" + +"Tha's right, Mr. Clanton. An' I'll sure take my Bible oath on it." + +Go-Get-'Em Jim whipped out the forty-five from its holster and fired. +Roush dropped screaming to the ground. He thought he had been shot. The +bullet had cut the rope above his head. + +"Get up," ordered Clanton in disgust. + +Roush rose stiffly. + +Jim swung to the saddle of the horse beside him. "Hit the dust," he told +his captive. + +The rider followed the footman to the top of the bluff. Here Roush was +instructed to mount the horse Clanton had been astride all night. Riding +behind the tame bad man, Jim cut across the hills to a gulch and followed +it till the ravine ran out in a little valley. He crossed this and +climbed a stiff pass from the other side of which he looked down on +Live-Oaks a thousand feet below. + +The young man tied the hands of his prisoner behind him. From a coat +pocket he drew a looking-glass, caught the sun's rays, and flung them +upon a house in the suburbs of the town. + +Out of the house there presently came a man. He stood in the doorway a +moment before going down the street. A flash of hot sunlight caught him +full in the face. He moved. The light danced after him. Then be woke up. +From the cliff far above friends of his had been wont to heliograph +signals during the late Washington County War. + +He read the light flashes and at once saddled a horse. A few minutes +later he might have been seen on the breakneck trail that leads across +the mountains to the Ruidosa. After a stiff climb he reached the summit +and swung sharply along the ridge to the right. A voice hailed him. + +"Hello, Reb!" + +"Hello, Go-Get-'Em! Thought Goodheart was bringin' you back a prisoner." +Quantrell's old guerrilla looked with unconcealed surprise at the bound +man. He knew the story of Clanton's deep-rooted hatred of the Roush clan. + +"I didn't sign any bond to stay his prisoner," Jim answered dryly. Then, +sharply, he turned upon Roush. "Spill out yore story about Yankie." + +Reluctantly Roush told once more his tale. He spoke only under the +pressure of imminent peril, for he knew that if this ever got back to the +men in the chaparral they would kill him with no more compunction than +they would a coyote. + +"Take this bird down to Billie Prince, Reb. Tell him I jumped Roush on +the Ruidosa, an' he peached to save his hide. This fellow is a born liar, +but I reckon he's tellin' the truth this time. If he rues back on his +story, tell Billie to put an advertisement in the Live-Oaks 'Round-Up' +and I'll drop in to town an' have a stance with Mr. Roush." + +Reb scratched his sunburnt head. "I don't aim to be noways inquisitive, +Go-Get-'Em, but how come you to wait long enough to take this hawss-thief +captive? I'd 'a' bet my best mule team against a dollar Mex that you'd +have gunned him on sight." + +"I'll tell you why, Reb. He had one rifle an' one six-gun. I didn't have +either the one or the other, so I had to borrow his guns before I talked +turkey. By that time I'd changed my mind about bumpin' him off right now. +When Yankie finds out what he's been sayin' he'll do the trick for me." + +"You're right he will. Good job, too. I hate a sneak like I do a +side-winder." Reb turned to his prisoner. "Git a move on you, Roush. +I want this job over with. I'm no coyote herder." + + + + +Chapter XXXIII + +The Round-Up + + +Dumont had been on the grill for three hours. He had taken refuge in +dogged silence. He had been badgered into lies. He had broken down at +last and told the truth. Sheriff Billie Prince, keen as a hound on the +scent, persistent as a bulldog, peppered the man's defense with a +machine-gun fire of questions. Back of these loomed the shadow of a +long term in the penitentiary. + +For Dumont had been caught with his iron hot. The acrid smell of burnt +flesh was still in the air when an angry cattleman and two of his riders +came on the man and the rustled calf. Fortunately for the thief the +sheriff happened to be in the neighborhood. He had rescued the captured +waddy from the hands of the incensed ranchers and brought him straight to +Live-Oaks. + +The rustler was frightened. There had been a bad quarter of an hour when +it looked as though he might be the central figure in a lynching. Even +after this danger had been weathered, the outlook was full of gloom. He +had to choose between a long prison sentence and the betrayal of his +comrades. Dumont had no iron in his blood. He dodged and evaded and +bluffed--and at last threw up his hands. If the sheriff would protect him +from the vengeance of the gang, he would give any information wanted +or do anything he was told to do. + +The arrival of Reb and his prisoner interrupted the quiz. Prince had +Dumont returned to his cell and took up the new business of Roush and his +story. The sheriff knew he would be blamed for the escape of Clanton and +he thought it wise to have the whole matter opened up before witnesses. +Wallace Snaith and Dad Wrayburn both happened to be in town and Billie +sent the boss mule-skinner to bring them. To these men he turned over the +examination of Roush. + +They wrung from him, a scrap at a time, the story Yankie had told his +confederates at the camp-fire. A statement of the facts was drawn up +and signed by Roush under protest. It was witnessed by the four men +present. + +Devil Dave was locked up and Dumont brought back to the office of the +sheriff. Taken by surprise at the new form of the questionnaire, already +broken in spirit and therefore eager to conciliate these powerful +citizens, the rustler at once corroborated the story of Roush. He, too, +signed a statement drawn up by Prince. + +"Just shows, doggone it, how a man can be too blamed sure," commented +Wrayburn. "I'd 'a' bet my life Go-Get-'Em Jim killed Webb. But he +didn't. It's plain enough now. After his rookus with the old man, Yankie +must have got a seventy-three an' waited in the chaparral. It just +happened he was lyin' hid close to where we met Clanton. It beats the +Dutch." + +"An' if Jim hadn't escaped he'd have been hanged for killin' Webb." + +"That's right, sheriff. On my testimony, too. Say, let me go to the +Governor with these papers an' git the pardon. I'd like to give it to the +boy myself, jest to show him there's no hard feelin's," urged Wrayburn. + +"That's all right, Dad. I'm goin' to be right busy this next week, I +shouldn't wonder. I've got business up in the hills." + +"If you're goin' on a round-up, I hope you make a good gather, Prince," +said Snaith, smiling. + +Not in the history of Washington County had there been another such a +round-up as this one of which Sheriff Prince was the boss. He made his +plans swiftly and thoroughly. His posses were to sweep the country +between Saco de Oro Creek and Caballero Cañon. Every gap was to be +stopped, every exit guarded. Dumont, much against his will, rode beside +the sheriff as guide. Goodheart had charge of the first party that went +out. His duty was to swing round and close the gulches to the north. Here +he would wait until the hunted men were driven into the trap he had set. +Old Reb, with a second posse, started next morning for the head-waters +of Seven-Mile Creek. An hour later the sheriff himself took the road. He +left town sooner than he had intended because Roush had escaped during +the night and was probably on his way into the hills to warn the +rustlers. + +Get them in a talkative mood and old-timers who took part in it will +still tell the story of that man-drive in the mountains. Riders combed +the draws and the buttes, eyes and ears alert for those who might lie +hidden on the rim rocks or in the cactus. It was grim business. Driven +out of their holes, the rustlers fought savagely. One, trapped in a hill +pocket, stood off a posse till he was shot to death. A second was +wounded, captured, and sent back with two other suspects to Live-Oaks. +At the end of a week Prince had the remnant of the band surrounded in a +mountain park close to Caballero Cañon. + +The country into which the outlaws had been driven was an ideal terrain +for defense. The brush was thick and tall. Two wooded arroyos gashed the +rim of the valley and ran down into the basin. An attack against +determined men here was bound to prove costly. + +Billie knew that three men lay in the chaparral and he believed that one +of them at least was wounded. Old Reb had jumped them up from a fireless +camp, and in their hurry to escape the outlaws had left all their +provisions and two of their horses. They left, too, one of the posse with +a bullet hole in his forehead. The sheriff's plan was to tighten the +lines gradually and starve out the rustlers. + +But though Prince would not let his men advance to a general assault, he +made up his mind to find out more as to the condition of the men he had +surrounded. He wanted to make sure they had not slipped past his guards +into Caballero Cañon. In the back of his head, too, was the feeling that +if he could get into touch with them, perhaps he might arrange for a +surrender. + +He called Goodheart to one side. "As soon as it's dark I'm goin' in to +find out what's doin'. We haven't heard a murmur from these birds for +hours. Perhaps they've flown. Anyhow, I'm goin' to find out." + +"How many of us are goin'?" + +"Just one of us--Billie Prince." + +"If two of us went--" + +"It would double the chances of discovery. No, I'm goin' alone. Maybe I +can have a talk with Albeen or Yankie. I don't want to take 'em dead, but +alive." + +"They'll probably get you while you're in there, Prince." + +"I don't think it. But if I'm not back by mornin' you are in charge of +this hunt. Use yore judgment." + +The deputy ventured one more protest, but his chief vetoed it. Billie had +decided what to do and argument did not touch him. + +He did not take a rifle. In the thick brush it would be hard to handle +noiselessly and the snapping of a twig might mean the difference between +life and death. The sheriff slipped into the tangle of cat-claw, prickly +pear, and mesquite, vanishing into the gloom from the sight of Goodheart. + +On the back of an envelope Dumont had drawn for him a rough map of the +valley. It showed that the wooded arroyos ran together like the spokes of +a wheel. The judgment of Prince was that he must look for the men he +wanted close to the angle of intersection. Up one or the other of these +draws it was likely they would make their dash for freedom, since +otherwise they would have to emerge into the open. Therefore, they would +hold the base of the V in order not to be cut off from the chance of +getting out of the trap. + +The sheriff snaked forward, most of the time on his stomach or on hands +and knees, for what seemed an interminable period. Each least movement +had to be planned and executed with precision. He dared not risk the +cracking of a dead branch or the rustle of dry foliage. As silently as +an Apache he wriggled through the grass. + +Billie became aware of a sound to the left. He listened. It presently +defined itself as a wheezing rattle halfway between a cough and a groan. + +Toward it Prince deflected. He knew himself to be now in the acute danger +zone, and he increased if possible his precautions. The moaning continued +intermittently. Billie wondered why, if this were the camp of the +outlaws, no other sound broke the stillness. Closer, inch by inch, making +the most of every bunch of yucca and cholla, the officer slowly crept. + +The figure of a man lay in the sand, the head resting on a folded +slicker. From time to time it moved slightly, and always the restlessness +was accompanied by the little throat rattle that had first attracted the +attention of the sheriff. The face, lying full in the moonlight, was of a +ghastly pallor. + +Prince lay crouched behind a piñon till he was sure the man was alone. It +was possible that his confederates might return at any moment, but Billie +could not let him suffer without aid. He stepped forward, revolver in +hand, every sense ready for instant response. + +The wounded man was Joe Yankie. The experienced eyes of Prince told him +that the rustler had not long to live. He was already in that twilight +region which is the border land between the known and the unknown. Billie +spoke his name, and for a moment the eyes of the man cleared. + +"Yore boys got me when they jumped our camp," he explained feebly. + +"Sorry, Joe. You were firin' when they hit you." + +The wounded man nodded. "'S all right. Streak o' bad luck. Gimme water. +I'm on fire," The officer unbuckled his canteen, lifted the head of the +dying man, and let the water trickle down his throat. Gently he lowered +the head again to the pillow. + +Then he asked a question. "Where are Albeen and--Roush?" + +The last name was a shot in the dark, but it hit the bull's eye. + +"Left--hours ago," + +Yankie closed his eyes wearily, but by sheer strength of will Prince +recalled him from the doze into which he was slipping. + +"Did you kill Homer Webb?" + +"Yes." + +"Had Clanton anything to do with it?" + +"No." + +A film gathered over the eyes of the dying man. The lids closed. Billie +adjusted the pillow a little more comfortably and rose. He could do no +more for him at present and he must set about his work. For though the +net of the round-up had gathered hundreds of stolen cattle and most of +those engaged in the business of brand-blotting, Prince knew his job +would not be finished if Roush and Albeen escaped. + +He quartered over the ground foot by foot. The camp of the rustlers had +been here and the footsteps showed there had been three. Yankie was +accounted for. That left Roush and Albeen. The sheriff discovered the +place where they had been sleeping. + +His eyes lit with the eagerness of the hunter who has come on the spoor. +He had found two sets of tracks leading from the bed-ground. One of these +showed no heel marks and the deep impress of toes in the soft sand. The +other presented a more sharply defined print with a greater distance +between the steps. They told Billie a story of a man tiptoeing away in +breathless silence, and of another man, wakened by some sound or by some +premonition, pursuing him in reckless haste. + +The imagination of the trailer built up a web of cause and effect. Two +men, with only one horse, were caught in a trap from which both were in a +desperate hurry to escape. Each, no doubt, was filled with suspicion of +the other while they waited for darkness to fall that they might try to +slip through the cordon of watchers. One of the at least, was unknown. If +he could make a get-away, _and leave no witness behind_, there would be +no proof positive that he was one of the rustlers. The situation was ripe +for tragedy. + +In the back of the sheriff's mind rose thoughts of something sinister +that had happened in the early hours of darkness. A chill ran down his +spine. He expected presently to stumble across something cold and chill +that only a little while ago had been warm with life. + +Prince recognized a weakness in his theory. If Roush was the man who had +tiptoed toward the horse in the pines, why had he not made sure first +by shooting Albeen while he slept? There was no absolute answer to that. +But it might be that the one-armed man had been dozing lightly and that +Roush had not the nerve to take a chance. For if his first shot failed to +kill, the betrayed man could still drop him. + +The trailer had no doubt in his mind that Roush was the man who had tried +to slip away to the horse. Albeen was a gun-fighter, quick on the shoot, +hasty of temper, but with the reputation of being both game and stanch. +It would not be in character for him to leave a companion in the lurch. + +In the scrub pines at the foot of the arroyo Prince found the place where +a horse had been tied. The footprints had diverged sharply toward a +duster of big boulders that rose in the grove. Billie did not at once +follow them. He wanted to make sure of another point first. + +Every sense alert against a possible surprise, he studied the ground +around the spot where the bronco had been fastened. One set of tracks +came straight from the big rocks to the hitching tree. Here all tracks +ended, except those of a galloping horse and the ones made by the man who +had originally left the animal here. + +One man had gone up the arroyo to slip through or to fight his way out of +the trap. The other man had stayed here. The officer knew what he would +find lying among the big rocks. + +The body lay face down, a revolver close to the still hand. Three +chambers of it had been fired. Prince turned over the heavy torso and +looked into the contorted face of Dave Roush. + +The man had fallen a victim to his own treachery. + + + + +Chapter XXXIV + +Primrose Paths + + +When Billie Prince had finished the job that had been given him to do, he +went back quietly to Live-Oaks without knowing that he had led the last +campaign of a revolution in the social life of Washington County. Because +a strong, determined man had carried law into the mesquite, citizens +could henceforth go about their business without fear or dread. + +The rule of the "bad man" was over. Revolvers were no longer a part of +the necessary wearing apparel of gentlemen of spirit. Life became safe +and humdrum. The frontier world gave itself to ploughing fields and +building fences and digging irrigation ditches and planting orchards. As +a corollary it married and reared children and built little red +schoolhouses. + +But before all this came to pass some details had to be arranged in the +lives of certain young people of the country. In one instance, at least, +Lee Snaith appointed herself adjuster in behalf of Cupid. + +Goodheart reached town a few hours earlier than his chief. Lee met him +just before supper in front of the court-house. + +"Where's Billie?" she asked with characteristic directness. + +"He's on his way back. A wounded man couldn't be moved an' he had to stay +with him a while. The man was Joe Yankie. A messenger just got in to say +he died." + +"Billie isn't wounded?" + +"No. Not his fault, though. When we had the rustlers cornered, he crawled +in through the brush to their camp. Fool business, I told him. Never saw +anything gamer. Lucky for him Albeen had made his get-away." + +The eyes of the girl thanked the deputy for this indirect praise. Little +patches of red burned in her dusky cheeks. The way to make a life friend +of her was to be fond of Billie. + +Lee changed the subject abruptly. "Jack, you haven't half the sense I +thought you had." + +"Much obliged," he answered sardonically. She was looking straight at him +and he knew what was in her mind. + +"If I was a man--and if the nicest girl in the world was in love with +me--I'd try not to be as stiff as a poker." + +"I'm as stiff as a poker, am I?" + +"Yes." The dark eyes of the young woman were eager pools of light. "She's +the truest-hearted girl I ever saw--the best friend, the loyalest +comrade. I should think you'd be ashamed to set yourself up to judge +her." + +"Of course, you're not settin' yourself up to judge _me_, Lee?" + +"I'm going to tell you what I think. The others are afraid of you because +you can put on that high-and-mighty, stand-offish air. Well, I'm not." + +"I see you're not." + +"She told me all about it. Since she was Polly Roubideau she had to help +Jim escape. Can't you see that? She knew he was innocent, and it turned +out she was right. Suppose she made a mistake--and I don't admit it for a +minute. Can't you make allowance for other folks' judgment being +different from yours? Are you never wrong yourself?" + +"It isn't a question of judgment." + +He hesitated and decided to say no more. How could he tell Lee that +Pauline had deliberately misled him to give Clanton a better chance of +escape? He had fought it out a hundred times in his mind, but he could +not escape the conviction that she had made a tool of his love. + +The girl went to the heart of the matter. "Polly loves you, and she is +breaking her heart because of your wretched pride. If you don't go +straight to her and beg her pardon for your want of faith in her, you're +not half the man I think you are, Jack Goodheart." + +A warm glow of hope flushed through his blood. + +"How do you know she loves me?" + +"Because--because--" Lee stopped. She did not intend to betray any +confidences. "I know it. That's enough." + +He threw away impulsively the prudent pride that he had been nourishing. +"Where can I find Polly?" + +"You're being invited to supper at my aunt's this evening. I'll not be +home for half an hour, but if you go right up, maybe you can find some +one to entertain you." + +He buried her little hand in his big paw and strode away. She watched +him, a soft tenderness shining in her eyes. Lee was a lover herself, and +she wanted everybody in the world to be as happy as she was. + +Two horsemen rode down the street toward her. She looked up. One of them +was Billie Prince, the other Jim Clanton. + +The younger man gave a shout of gay greeting. "Yip-ee yippy yip." He +leaned from the cowpony and gave her his gloved hand. "I've brought him +back to you. He sure did make a good clean-up. I'm the only bad man left +in Washington County." + +She met his impudent little smile with friendly eyes. "Dad Wrayburn's +back from Santa Fe with the pardon, Jim. I'm so glad." + +"I'm some glad myself. Do you want me to shut my eyes whilst you an' +Billie--" + +The sheriff knocked the rest of the sentence out of him with a vigorous +thump on the back. + +While Lee and her lover shook hands their eyes held fast to each other. + +"Good to see you, Billie," she said. + +"Same here, Lee." + +"When you and Jim have put up your horses I want you to come up to aunt's +for supper." + +"We'll be there." + +It was not a very gay little supper. Pauline and Jack Goodheart had very +little to say for themselves, but in their eyes were bright pools of +happiness. Clanton sustained the burden of the talk, assisted in a +desultory fashion by Lee and Billie. But there was so much quiet joy at +the table that for years the hour was one fenced off from all the others +of their lives. Even Jim, who for the first time felt himself almost an +outsider, since he did not belong to the close communion of lovers, could +find plenty for which to be thankful. + +He made an announcement before he left. "There's no room here for me now +that you lads are marryin' all my girls. I'm goin' to hit the trail. It's +Texas for me. I've got a letter in my pocket offerin' me a job as a +Ranger an' I'm goin' to take it." + +They shook hands with him in warm congratulation. Their friend was no +longer a killer. He had definitely turned his back on lawlessness and +would henceforth walk with the law. The problem of what was to become of +Go-Get-'Em Jim was solved. + +As to the problem of their own futures, that did not disturb these happy +egoists in the least. Life beckoned them to primrose paths. It is the +good fortune of lovers that their vision never pierces the shadows in +which lie the sorrows of the years and the griefs that wear them gray. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Man Four-Square, by William MacLeod Raine + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN FOUR-SQUARE *** + +***** This file should be named 14171-8.txt or 14171-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/1/7/14171/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/14171-8.zip b/old/14171-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..86db2fd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14171-8.zip diff --git a/old/14171.txt b/old/14171.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1277024 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14171.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8901 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Man Four-Square, by William MacLeod Raine + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Man Four-Square + +Author: William MacLeod Raine + +Release Date: November 26, 2004 [EBook #14171] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN FOUR-SQUARE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + A Man Four-Square + + BY WILLIAM MAC LEOD RAINE + + AUTHOR OF THE YUKON TRAIL, BUCKY O'CONNOR, STEVE YEAGER, WYOMING, ETC. + + 1919 + + + + +Contents + + +PROLOGUE + + I. "CALL ME JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM" + II. SHOOT-A-BUCK CANON + III. RANSE ROUSH PAYS + IV. PAULINE ROUBIDEAU SAYS "THANK YOU" + V. NO FOUR-FLUSHER + VI. BILLIE ASKS A QUESTION + VII. ON THE TRAIL + VIII. THE FIGHT + IX. BILLIE STANDS PAT + X. BUD PROCTOR LENDS A HAND + XI. THE FUGITIVES + XII. THE GOOD SAMARITAN + XIII. A FRIENDLY ENEMY + XIV. THE GUN-BARREL ROAD + XV. LEE PLAYS A LEADING ROLE + XVI. THREE MODERN MUSKETEERS + XVII. "PEG-LEG" WARREN + XVIII. A STAMPEDE + XIX. A TWO-GUN MAN + XX. EXIT MYSTERIOUS PETE + XXI. JIM RECEIVES AND DECLINES AN OFFER + XXII. THE RUSTLERS' CAMP + XXIII. MURDER FROM THE CHAPARRAL + XXIV. JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM LEAVES A NOTE + XXV. THE MAL-PAIS + XXVI. A DUST-STORM + XXVII. "A LUCKY GUY" +XXVIII. SHERIFF PRINCE FUNCTIONS + XXIX. "THEY CAN'T HANG ME IF I AIN'T THERE" + XXX. POLLY HAS A PLAN + XXXI. GOODHEART MAKES A PROMISE AND BREAKS IT + XXXII. JIM TAKES A PRISONER +XXXIII. THE ROUND-UP + XXXIV. PRIMROSE PATHS + + + + +A Man Four-Square + + + + +Prologue + + +A girl sat on the mossy river-bank in the dappled, golden sunlight. +Frowning eyes fixed on a sweeping eddy, she watched without seeing the +racing current. Her slim, supple body, crouched and tense, was +motionless, but her soul seethed tumultuously. In the bosom of her coarse +linsey gown lay hidden a note. Through it destiny called her to the +tragic hour of decision. + +The foliage of the young pawpaws stirred behind her. Furtively a pair of +black eyes peered forth and searched the opposite bank of the stream, the +thicket of rhododendrons above, the blooming laurels below. Very +stealthily a handsome head pushed out through the leaves. + +"'Lindy," a voice whispered. + +The girl gave a start, slowly turned her head. She looked at the owner of +the voice from steady, deep-lidded eyes. The pulse in her brown throat +began to beat. One might have guessed her with entire justice a sullen +lass, untutored of life, passionate, and high-spirited, resentful of all +restraint. Hers was such beauty as lies in rich blood beneath dark +coloring, in dusky hair and eyes, in the soft, warm contours of youth. +Already she was slenderly full, an elemental daughter of Eve, primitive +as one of her fur-clad ancestors. No forest fawn could have been more +sensuous or innocent than she. + +Again the man's glance swept the landscape cautiously before he moved out +from cover. In the country of the Clantons there was always an open +season on any one of his name. + +"What are you doin' here, Dave Roush?" the girl demanded. "Are you +crazy?" + +"I'm here because you are, 'Lindy Clanton," he answered promptly. "That's +a right good reason, ain't it?" + +The pink splashed into her cheeks like spilled wine. + +"You'd better go. If dad saw you--" + +He laughed hardily. "There'd be one less Roush--or one less Clanton," he +finished for her. + +Dave Roush was a large, well-shouldered man, impressive in spite of his +homespun. If he carried himself with a swagger there was no lack of +boldness in him to back it. His long hair was straight and black and +coarse, a derivative from the Indian strain in his blood. + +"Git my note?" he asked. + +She nodded sullenly. + +'Lindy had met Dave Roush at a dance up on Lonesome where she had no +business to be. At the time she had been visiting a distant cousin in a +cove adjacent to that creek. Some craving for adventure, some instinct of +defiance, had taken her to the frolic where she knew the Roush clan would +be in force. From the first sight of her Dave had wooed her with a +careless bravado that piqued her pride and intrigued her interest. The +girl's imagination translated in terms of romance his insolence and +audacity. Into her starved existence he brought color and emotion. + +Did she love him? 'Lindy was not sure. He moved her at times to furious +anger, and again to inarticulate longings she did not understand. For +though she was heritor of a life full-blooded and undisciplined, every +fiber of her was clean and pure. There were hours when she hated him, +glimpsed in him points of view that filled her with vague distrust. But +always he attracted her tremendously. + +"You're goin' with me, gal," he urged. + +Close to her hand was a little clump of forget-me-nots which had pushed +through the moss. 'Lindy feigned to be busy picking the blossoms. + +"No," she answered sulkily. + +"Yes. To-night--at eleven o'clock, 'Lindy,--under the big laurel." + +While she resented his assurance, it none the less coerced her. She did +not want a lover who groveled in the dust before her. She wanted one to +sweep her from her feet, a young Lochinvar to compel her by the force of +his personality. + +"I'll not be there," she told him. + +"We'll git right across the river an' be married inside of an hour." + +"I tell you I'm not goin' with you. Quit pesterin' me." + +His devil-may-care laugh trod on the heels of her refusal. He guessed +shrewdly that circumstances were driving her to him. The girl was full of +resentment at her father's harsh treatment of her. Her starved heart +craved love. She was daughter of that Clanton who led the feud against +the Roush family and its adherents. Dave took his life in his hands every +time he crossed the river to meet her. Once he had swum the stream in the +night to keep an appointment. He knew that his wildness, his reckless +courage and contempt of danger, argued potently for him. She was coming +to him as reluctantly and surely as a wild turkey answers the call of the +hunter. + +The sound of a shot, not distant, startled them. He crouched, wary as a +rattlesnake about to strike. The rifle seemed almost to leap forward. + +"Hit's Bud--my brother Jimmie." She pushed him back toward the pawpaws. +"Quick! Burn the wind!" + +"What about to-night? Will you come?" + +"Hurry. I tell you hit's Bud. Are you lookin' for trouble?" + +He stopped stubbornly at the edge of the thicket. "I ain't runnin' away +from it. I put a question to ye. When I git my answer mebbe I'll go. But +I don't 'low to leave till then." + +"I'll meet ye there if I kin git out. Now go," she begged. + +The man vanished in the pawpaws. He moved as silently as one of his +Indian ancestors. + +'Lindy waited, breathless lest her brother should catch sight of him. She +knew that if Jimmie saw Roush there would be shooting and one or the +other would fall. + +A rifle shot rang out scarce a hundred yards from her. The heart of the +girl stood still. After what seemed an interminable time there came to +her the sound of a care-free whistle. Presently her brother sauntered +into view, a dead squirrel in his hand. The tails of several others +bulged from the game bag by his side. The sister did not need to be told +that four out of five had been shot through the head. + +"Thought I heard voices. Was some one with you, sis?" the boy asked. + +"Who'd be with me here?" she countered lazily. + +A second time she was finding refuge in the for-get-me-nots. + +He was a barefoot little fellow, slim and hard as a nail. In his hand he +carried an old-fashioned rifle almost as long as himself. There was a +lingering look of childishness in his tanned, boyish face. His hands and +feet were small and shapely as those of a girl. About him hung the stolid +imperturbability of the Southern mountaineer. Times were when his blue +eyes melted to tenderness or mirth; yet again the cunning of the jungle +narrowed them to slits hard, as jade. Already, at the age of fourteen, he +had been shot at from ambush, had wounded a Roush at long range, had +taken part in a pitched battle. The law of the feud was tempering his +heart to implacability. + +The keen gaze of the boy rested on her. Ever since word had reached the +Clantons of how 'Lindy had "carried on" with Dave Roush at the dance on +Lonesome her people had watched her suspiciously. The thing she had done +had been a violation of the hill code and old Clay Clanton had thrashed +her with a cowhide till she begged for mercy. Jimmie had come home from +the still to find her writhing in passionate revolt. The boy had been +furious at his father; yet had admitted the substantial justice of the +punishment. Its wisdom he doubted. For he knew his sister to be stubborn +as old Clay himself, and he feared lest they drive her to the arms of Bad +Dave Roush. + +"I reckon you was talkin' to yo'self, mebbe," he suggested. + +"I reckon." + +They walked home together along a path through the rhododendrons. The +long, slender legs of the girl moved rhythmically and her arms swung like +pendulums. Life in the open had given her the litheness and the grace of +a woodland creature. The mountain woman is cheated of her youth almost +before she has learned to enjoy it. But 'Lindy was still under eighteen. +Her warm vitality still denied the coming of a day when she would be a +sallow, angular snuff-chewer. + +Within sight of the log cabin the girl lingered for a moment by the +sassafras bushes near the spring. Some deep craving for sympathy moved +her to alien speech. She turned upon him with an imperious, fierce +tenderness in her eyes. + +"You'll never forgit me, Bud? No matter what happens, you'll--you'll not +hate me?" + +Her unusual emotion embarrassed and a little alarmed him. "Oh, shucks! +They ain't anything goin' to happen, sis. What's ailin' you?" + +"But if anything does. You'll not hate me--you'll remember I allus +thought a heap of you, Jimmie?" she insisted. + +"Doggone it, if you're still thinkin' of that scalawag Dave Roush--" He +broke off, moved by some touch of prescient tragedy in her young face. +"'Course I ain't ever a-goin' to forgit you none, sis. Hit ain't likely, +is it?" + +It was a comfort to him afterward to recall that he submitted to her +impulsive caress without any visible irritability. + +'Lindy busied herself preparing supper for her father and brother. Ever +since her mother died when the child was eleven she had been the family +housekeeper. + +At dusk Clay Clanton came in and stood his rifle in a corner of the room. +His daughter recognized ill-humor in the grim eyes of the old man. He was +of a tall, gaunt figure, strongly built, a notable fighter with his fists +in the brawling days before he "got religion" at a camp meeting. Now his +Calvinism was of the sternest. Dancing he held to be of the devil. +Card-playing was a sin. If he still drank freely, his drinking was within +bounds. But he did not let his piety interfere with the feud. Within the +year, pillar of the church though he was, he had been carried home +riddled with bullets. Of the four men who had waylaid him two had been +buried next day and a third had kept his bed for months. + +He ate for a time in dour silence before he turned harshly on 'Lindy. + +"You ain't havin' no truck with Dave Roush are you? Not meetin' up with +him on the sly?" he demanded, his deep-set eyes full of menace under the +heavy, grizzled brows. + +"No, I ain't," retorted the girl, and her voice was sullen and defiant. + +"See you don't, lessen yo' want me to tickle yore back with the bud +again. I don't allow to put up with no foolishness." He turned in +explanation to the boy. "Brad Nickson seen him this side of the river +to-day. He says this ain't the fustest time Roush has been seen hangin' +'round the cove." + +The boy's wooden face betrayed nothing. He did not look at his sister. +But suspicions began to troop through his mind. He thought again of the +voices he had heard by the river and he remembered that it had become a +habit of the girl to disappear for hours in the afternoon. + +'Lindy went to her room early. She nursed against her father not only +resentment, but a strong feeling of injustice. He would not let her +attend the frolics of the neighborhood because of his scruples against +dancing. Yet she had heard him tell how he used to dance till daybreak +when he was a young man. What right had he to cut her off from the things +that made life tolerable? + +She was the heritor of lawless, self-willed, passionate ancestors. Their +turbulent blood beat in her veins. All the safeguards that should have +hedged her were gone. A wise mother, an understanding father, could have +saved her from the tragedy waiting to engulf her. But she had neither of +these. Instead, her father's inhibitions pushed her toward that doom to +which she was moving blindfold. + +Before her cracked mirror the girl dressed herself bravely in her cheap +best. She had no joy in the thing she was going to do. Of her love she +was not sure and of her lover very unsure. A bell of warning rang faintly +in her heart as she waited for the hours to slip away. + +A very little would have turned the tide. But she nursed her anger +against her father, fed her resentment with the memory of all his wrongs +to her. When at last she crept through the window to the dark porch +trellised with wild cucumbers, she persuaded herself that she was going +only to tell Dave Roush that she would not join him. + +Her heart beat fast with excitement and dread. Poor, undisciplined +daughter of the hills though she was, a rumor of the future whispered in +her ears and weighted her bosom. + +Quietly she stole past the sassafras brake to the big laurel. Her lover +took her instantly into his arms and kissed the soft mouth again and +again. She tried to put him from her, to protest that she was not going +with him. But before his ardor her resolution melted. As always, when he +was with her, his influence was paramount. + +"The boat is under that clump of bushes," he whispered. + +"Oh, Dave, I'm not goin'," she murmured. + +"Then I'll go straight to the house an' have it out with the old man," he +answered. + +His voice rang gay with the triumph of victory. He did not intend to let +her hesitations rob him of it. + +"Some other night," she promised. "Not now--I don't want to go now. +I--I'm not ready." + +"There's no time like to-night, honey. My brother came with me in the +boat. We've got horses waitin'--an' the preacher came ten miles to do the +job." + +Then, with the wisdom born of many flirtations, he dropped argument and +wooed her ardently. The anchors that held the girl to safety dragged. The +tug of sex, her desire of love and ignorance of life, his eager and +passionate demand that she trust him: all these swelled the tide that +beat against her prudence. + +She caught his coat lapels tightly in her clenched fists. + +"If I go I'll be givin' up everything in the world for you, Dave +Roush. My folks'll hate me. They'd never speak to me again. You'll +be good to me. You won't cast it up to me that I ran away with you. +You'll--you'll--" Her voice broke and she gulped down a little sob. + +He laughed. She could not see his face in the darkness, but the sound of +his laughter was not reassuring. He should have met her appeal seriously. + +The girl drew back. + +He sensed at once his mistake. "Good to you!" he cried. "'Lindy, I'm +a-goin' to be the best ever." + +"I ain't got any mother, Dave." Again she choked in her throat. "You +wouldn't take advantage of me, would you?" + +He protested hotly. Desiring only to be convinced, 'Lindy took one last +precaution. + +"Swear you'll do right by me always." + +He swore it. + +She put her hand in his and he led her to the boat. + +Ranse Roush was at the oars. Before he had taken a dozen strokes a wave +of terror swept over her. She was leaving behind forever that quiet, +sunny cove where she had been brought up. The girl began to shiver +against the arm of her lover. She heard again the sound of his low, +triumphant laughter. + +It was too late to turn back now. No hysterical request to be put back on +her side of the river would move these men. Instinctively she knew that. +From to-night she was to be a Roush. + +They found horses tied to saplings in a small cove close to the river. +The party mounted and rode into the hills. Except for the ring of the +horses' hoofs there was no sound for miles. 'Lindy was the first to +speak. + +"Ain't this Quicksand Creek?" she asked of her lover as they forded a +stream. + +He nodded. "The sands are right below us--not more'n seven or eight steps +down here Cal Henson was sucked under." + +After another stretch ridden in silence they turned up a little cove to a +light shining in a cabin window. The brothers alighted and Dave helped +the girl down. He pushed open the door and led the way inside. + +A man sat by the fireside with his feet on the table. He was reading a +newspaper. A jug of whiskey and a glass were within reach of his hand. +Without troubling to remove his boots from the table, he looked up with a +leer at the trembling girl. + +Dave spoke at once. "We'll git it over with. The sooner the quicker." + +'Lindy's heart was drenched with dread. She shrank from the three pairs +of eyes focused upon her as if they had belonged to wolves. She had hoped +that the preacher might prove a benevolent old man, but this man with the +heavy thatch of unkempt, red hair and furtive eyes set askew offered no +comfort. If there had been a single friend of her family present, if +there had been any woman at all! If she could even be sure of the man she +was about to marry! + +It seemed to her that the preacher was sneering when he put the questions +to which she answered quaveringly. Vaguely she felt the presence of some +cruel, sinister jest of which she was the sport. + +After the ceremony had been finished the three men drank together while +she sat white-faced before the fire. When at last Ranse Roush and the +red-headed preacher left the cabin, both of them were under the influence +of liquor. Dave had drunk freely himself. + +'Lindy would have given her hopes of heaven to be back safely in the +little mud-daubed bedroom she had called her own. + +Three days later 'Lindy wakened to find a broad ribbon of sunshine across +the floor of the cabin. Her husband had not come home at all the night +before. She shivered with self-pity and dressed slowly. Already she knew +that her life had gone to wreck, that it would be impossible to live with +Dave Roush and hold her self-respect. + +But she had cut herself off from retreat. All of her friends belonged to +the Clanton faction and they would not want to have anything to do with +her. She had no home now but this, no refuge against the neglect and +insults of this man with whom she had elected to go through life. To her +mind came the verdict of old Nance Cunningham on the imprudent marriage +of another girl: "Randy's done made her bed; I reckon she's got to lie +on it." + +A voice hailed the cabin from outside. She went to the door. Ranse Roush +and the red-haired preacher had ridden into the clearing and were +dismounting. They had with them a led horse. + +"Fix up some breakfast," ordered Ranse. + +The young wife flushed. She resented his tone and his manner. Like Dave, +he too assumed that she had come to be a drudge for the whole drunken +clan, a creature to be sneered at and despised. + +Silently she cooked a meal for the men. The girl was past tears. She had +wept herself out. + +While they ate the men told of her father's fury when he had discovered +the elopement, of how he had gone down to the mill and cast her off with +a father's curse, renouncing all relationship with her forever. It was a +jest that held for them a great savor. They made sport of him and of the +other Clantons till she could keep still no longer. + +"I won't stand this! I don't have to! Where's Dave?" she demanded, eyes +flashing with contempt and anger. + +Ranse grinned, then turned to his companion with simulated perplexity. +"Where is Dave, Brother Hugh?" + +"Damfino," replied the red-headed man, and the girl could see that he was +gloating over her. "Last night he was at a dance on God Forgotten Crick. +Dave's soft on a widow up there, you know." + +The color ebbed from the face of the wife. One of her hands clutched at +the back of a chair till the knuckles stood out white and bloodless. Her +eyes fastened with a growing horror upon those of the red-headed man. She +had come to the edge of an awful discovery. + +"You're no preacher. Who are you?" + +"Me?" His smile was cruel as death. "You done guessed it, sister. I'm +Hugh Roush--Dave's brother." + +"An'--an'--my marriage was all a lie?" + +"Did ye think Dave Roush would marry a Clanton? He's a bad lot, Dave is, +but he ain't come that low yet." + +For the first and last time in her life 'Lindy fainted. + +Presently she floated back to consciousness and the despair of a soul +mortally stricken. She saw it all now. The lies of Dave Roush had enticed +her into a trap. He had been working for revenge against the family he +hated, especially against brave old Clay Clanton who had killed two of +his kin within the year. With the craft inherited from savage ancestors +he had sent a wound more deadly than any rifle bullet could carry. The +Clantons were proud folks, and he had dragged their pride in the mud. + +If the two brothers expected her to make a scene, they were disappointed. +Numb with the shock of the blow, she made no outcry and no reproach. + +"Git a move on ye, gal," ordered Ranse after he had finished eating. +"You're goin' with us, so you better hurry." + +"What are you goin' to do with me?" she asked dully. + +"Why, Dave don't want you any more. We're goin' to send you home." + +"I reckon yore folks will kill the fatted calf for you," jeered Hugh +Roush. "They tell me you always been mighty high-heeled, 'Lindy Clanton. +Mebbe you won't hold yore head so high now." + +The girl rode between them down from the hills. Who knows into what an +agony of fear and remorse and black despair she fell? She could not go +home a cast-off, a soiled creature to be scorned and pointed at. She +dared not meet her father. It would be impossible to look her little +brother Jimmie in the face. Would they believe the story she told? And if +they were convinced of its truth, what difference would that make? She +was what she was, no matter how she had become so. + +On the pike they met old Nance Cunningham returning from the mill with a +sack of meal. The story of that meeting was one the old gossip told after +the tragedy to many an eager circle of listeners, + +"She jes' lifted her han' an' stopped me, an' if death was ever writ on a +human face it shorely wuz stomped on hers. 'I want you to tell my father +I'm sorry,' she sez. 'He swore he'd marry me inside of an hour. This man +hyer--his brother--made out like he wuz a preacher an' married us. Tell +my father that an' ask him to forgive me if he can.' That wuz all she +said. Ranse Roush hit her horse with a switch an' sez, 'Yo' kin tell him +all that yore own self soon as you git home.' I reckon I wuz the lastest +person she spoke to alive." + +They left the old woman staring after them with her mouth open. It could +have been only a few minutes later that they reached Quicksand Creek. + +'Lindy pulled up her horse to let the men precede her through the ford. +They splashed into the shallows on the other side of the creek and waited +for her to join them. Instead, she slipped from the saddle, ran down the +bank, and plunged into the quicksand. + +"Goddlemighty!" shrieked Ranse. "She's a-drowndin' herself in the sands." + +They spurred their horses back across the creek and ran to rescue the +girl. But she had flung herself forward face down far out of their reach. +They dared not venture into the quivering bog after her. While they still +stared in a frozen horror, the tragedy was completed. The victim of their +revenge had disappeared beneath the surface of the morass. + + + + +Chapter I + +"Call Me Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em" + + +The boy had spent the night at a water-hole in a little draw near the +foot of the mesa. He had supped on cold rations and slept in his blanket +without the comfort of glowing pinon knots. For yesterday he had cut +Indian signs and after dark had seen the shadow of Apache camp-fires +reflected in the clouds. + +After eating he swung to the bare back of his pony and climbed to the +summit of the butte. His trained eyes searched the plains. A big bunch of +antelope was trailing down to water almost within rifle-shot. But he was +not looking for game. + +He sniffed the smoke from the pits where the renegades were roasting +mescal and judged the distance to the Apache camp at close to ten miles. +His gaze swept toward the sunrise horizon and rested upon a cloud of +dust. That probably meant a big herd of cattle crossing to the Pecos +Valley on the Chisum Trail that led to Fort Stanton. The riders were +likely just throwing the beeves from the bed-ground to the trail. The boy +waited to make sure of their line of travel. + +Presently he spoke aloud, after the fashion of the plainsman who spends +much time alone in the saddle. "Looks like they'll throw off to-night +close to the 'Pache camp. If they do hell's a-goin' to pop just before +sunup to-morrow. I reckon I'll ride over and warn the outfit." + +From a trapper the boy had learned that a band of Mescalero Apaches had +left the reservation three weeks before, crossed into Mexico, gone +plundering down the Pecos, and was now heading back toward the Staked +Plains. Evidently the drover did not know this, since he was moving his +cattle directly toward the Indian camp. + +The young fellow let his cowpony pick its way down the steep shale hill +to the draw. He saddled without a waste motion, packed his supplies +deftly, mounted, and was off. In the way he cut across the desert toward +the moving herd was the certainty of the frontiersman. He did not hurry, +but he wasted no time. His horse circled in and out among the sand dunes, +now topped a hill, now followed a wash. Every foot of the devious trail +was the most economical possible. + +At the end of nearly an hour's travel he pulled up, threw down his bridle +reins, and studied the ground carefully. He had cut Indian sign. What he +saw would have escaped the notice of a tenderfoot, and if it had been +pointed out to him none but an expert trailer would have understood its +significance. Yet certain facts were printed here on the desert for this +boy as plainly as if they had been stenciled on a guide-post. He knew +that within forty-eight hours a band of about twenty Mescalero bucks had +returned to camp this way from an antelope hunt and that they carried +with them half a dozen pronghorns. It was a safe guess that they were +part of the large camp the smoke of which he had seen. + +Long before the young man struck the drive, he knew he was close by the +cloud of dust and the bawling of the cattle. His course across country +had been so accurate that he hit the herd at the point without +deflecting. + +An old Texan drew up, changed his weight on the saddle to rest himself, +and hailed the youngster. + +"Goin' somewheres, kid, or just ridin'?" he asked genially. + +"Just takin' my hawss out for a jaunt so's he won't get hog-fat," grinned +the boy. + +The Texan chewed tobacco placidly and eyed the cowpony. The horse had +been ridden so far that he was a bag of bones. + +"Looks some gaunted," he commented. + +"Four Bits is so thin he won't throw a shadow," admitted the boy. + +"Come a right smart distance, I reckon?" + +"You done said it." + +"Where you headin' for?" + +"For Deaf Smith County. I got an uncle there. Saw your dust an' dropped +over to tell you that a big bunch of 'Paches are camped just ahead of +you." + +The older man looked at him keenly. "How do you know, son?" + +"Smelt their smoke an' cut their trail." + +"Know Injuns, do you?" + +"I trailed with Al Sieber 'most two years." + +To have served with Sieber for any length of time was a certificate of +efficiency. He was the ablest scout in the United States Army. Through +his skill and energy Geronimo and his war braves were later forced to +give themselves up to the troops. + +"'Nuff said. Are these 'Paches liable to make us any trouble?" + +"Yes, sir. I think they are. They're a bunch of broncos from the +reservation an' they have been across the line stealin' horses an' +murderin' settlers. They will sure try to stampede your cattle an' run +off a lot of 'em." + +"Hmp! You better go back an' see old man Webb about it. What's yore name, +kid?" + +For just an eye-beat the boy hesitated. "Call me Jim Thursday." + +A glimmer of a smile rested in the eyes of the Texan. He was willing to +bet that this young fellow would not have given him that name if to-day +had not happened to be the fifth day of the week. But it was all one to +the cowpuncher. To question a man too closely about his former residence +and manner of life was not good form on the frontier. + +"I'll call you Jim from Sunday to Saturday," he said, pulling a tobacco +pouch from his hip pocket. "My name is Wrayburn--Dad Wrayburn, the boys +call me." + +The Texan shouted to the man riding second on the swing. "Oh, you, Billie +Prince!" + +A tanned, good-looking young fellow cantered up. + +"Meet Jimmie Thursday, Billie," the old-timer said by way of +introduction. "This boy says there's heap many Injuns on the war-path +right ahead of us. I reckon I'll let you take the point while I ride +back with him an' put it up to the old man." + +The "old man" turned out to be a short, heavy-set Missourian who had +served in the Union Army and won a commission by intelligence and +courage. Wherever the name of Homer Webb was known it stood for integrity +and square-dealing. His word was as good as a signed bond. + +Webb had come out of the war without a cent, but with a very definite +purpose. During the last year of the Confederacy, while it was tottering +to its fall, he had served in Texas. The cattle on the range had for +years been running wild, the owners and herdsmen being absent with the +Southern army. They had multiplied prodigiously, so that many thousands +of mavericks roamed without brand, the property of any one who would +round them up and put an iron on their flanks. The money value of them +was very little. A standard price for a yearling was a plug of tobacco. +But Webb looked to the future. He hired two riders, gathered together a +small remuda of culls, and went into the cattle business with energy. +To-day the Flying V Y was stamped on forty thousand longhorns. + +The foreman of the Flying V Y was riding with the owner of the brand at +the drag end of the herd. He was a hard-faced citizen known as Joe +Yankie. When Wrayburn had finished his story, the foreman showed a row of +tobacco-stained teeth in an unpleasant grin. + +"Same old stuff, Dad. There always is a bunch of bucks off the +reservation an' they're always just goin' to run our cattle away. If you +ask me there's nothin' to it." + +Young Thursday flushed. "If you'll ride out with me I'll show you their +trail." + +Yankie looked at him with a sneer. He guessed this boy to be about +eighteen. There was a suggestion of effeminacy about the lad's small, +well-shaped hands and feet. He was a slender, smooth-faced youth with +mild blue eyes. It occurred to Webb, too, that the stranger might have +imagined the Apaches. But in his motions was something of the lithe grace +of the puma. It was part of the business of the cattleman to judge men +and he was not convinced that this young fellow was as inoffensive as he +looked. + +"Where you from?" asked the drover. + +"From the San Carlos Agency." + +"Ever meet a man named Micky Free out there?" + +"I've slept under the same tarp with him many's the time when we were +followin' Chiricahua 'Paches. He's the biggest dare-devil that ever +forked a horse." + +"Describe him." + +"Micky's face is a map of Ireland. He's got only one eye; a buck punched +the other out when he was a kid. His hair is red an' he wears it long." + +"Any beard?" + +"A bristly little red mustache." + +"That's Micky to a T." Webb made up his mind swiftly. "The boy's all +right, Yankie. He'll do to take along." + +"It's your outfit. Suits me if he does you." The foreman turned +insolently to the newcomer. "What'd you say your name was, sissie?" + +The eyes of the boy, behind narrowed lids, grew hard as steel. + +"Call me Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em," he drawled in a soft voice, every syllable +distinct. + +There was a moment of chill silence. A swift surprise had flared into the +eyes of the foreman. The last thing in the world he had expected was to +have his bad temper resented so promptly by this smooth-faced little +chap. Since Yankie was the camp bully he bristled up to protect his +reputation. + +"Better not get on the prod with me, young fellow me lad. I'm liable to +muss up your hair. Me, I'm from the Strip, where folks grow man-size." + +The youngster smiled, but there was no mirth in that thin-lipped smile. +He knew, as all men did, that the Cherokee Strip was the home of +desperadoes and man-killers. The refuse of the country, driven out by the +law of more settled communities, found here a refuge from punishment. But +if the announcement of the foreman impressed him, he gave no sign of it. + +"Why didn't you stay there?" he asked with bland innocence. + +Yankie grew apoplectic. He did not care to discuss the reasons why he +had first gone to the Strip or the reasons why he had come away. This +girl-faced boy was the only person who had asked for a bill of +particulars. Moreover, the foreman did not know whether the question had +been put in child-like ignorance of any possible offense or with an +impudent purpose to enrage him. + +"Don't run on the rope when I'm holdin' it, kid," he advised roughly. +"You're liable to get thrown hard." + +"And then again I'm liable not to," lisped the youth from Arizona gently. + +The bully looked the slim newcomer over again, and as he looked there +rang inside him some tocsin of warning. Thursday sat crouched in the +saddle, wary as a rattlesnake ready to strike. A sawed-off shotgun lay +under his leg within reach of his hand, the butt of a six-gun was even +closer to those smooth, girlish fingers. In the immobility of his figure +and the steadiness of the blue eyes was a deadly menace. + +Yankie was no coward. He would go through if he had to. But there was +still time to draw back if he chose. He was not exactly afraid; on the +other hand, he did not feel at all easy. + +He contrived a casual, careless laugh. "All right, kid. I don't have to +rob the cradle to fill my private graveyard. Go get your Injuns. It will +be all right with me." + +Webb drew a breath of relief. There was to be no gunplay after all. He +had had his own reasons for not interfering sooner, but he knew that the +situation had just grazed red tragedy. + +"I'm goin' to take the boy's advice," he announced to Yankie. "Ride +forward an' swing the herd toward that big red butte. We'll give our +Mescalero friends a wide berth if we can." + +The foreman hung in the saddle a moment before he turned to go. He had to +save his face from a public back-down, "Bet you a week's pay there's +nothin' to it, Webb." + +"Hope you're right, Joe," his employer answered. + +As soon as Yankie had cantered away, Dad Wrayburn, ex-Confederate +trooper, slapped his hand on his thigh and let out a modulated rebel +yell. + +"Dad burn my hide, Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em, you're all right. Fustest time I +ever saw Joe take water, but he shorely did splash some this here +occasion. I wouldn't 'a' missed it for a bunch of hog-fat yearlin's." + +Webb had not been sorry to see his arrogant foreman brought up with a +sharp turn, but in the interest of discipline he did not care to say so. + +"Why can't you boys get along peaceable with Joe, I'd like to know? This +snortin' an' pawin' up the ground don't get you anything." + +"I reckon Joe does most of the snortin' that's done," Wrayburn answered +dryly. "I ain't had any trouble with him, because he spends a heap of +time lettin' me alone. But there's no manner of doubt that Joe rides the +boys too hard." + +The drover dismissed the subject and turned to Thursday. + +"Want a job?" + +"Mebbe so." + +"I need another man. Since you sabe the ways of the 'Paches I can use you +to scout ahead for us." + +"What you payin'?" + +"Fifty a month." + +"You've hired a hand." + +"Good enough. Better pick one of the boys to ride with you while you are +out scoutin'." + +"I'll take Billie Prince," decided the new rider at once. + +"You know Billie?" + +"Never saw him before to-day. But I like his looks. He's a man to tie +to." + +"You're right he is." + +The drover looked at his new employee with a question in his shrewd eyes. +The boy was either a man out of a thousand or he was a first-class +bluffer. He claimed to have cut Indian sign and to know exactly what was +written there. At a single glance he had sized up Prince and knew him +for a reliable side partner. Without any bluster he had served notice on +Yankie that it would be dangerous to pick on him as the butt of his +ill-temper. + +In those days, on the Pecos, law lay in a holster on a man's thigh. The +individual was a force only so far as his personality impressed itself +upon his fellows. If he made claims he must be prepared to back them to a +fighting finish. + +Was this young Thursday a false alarm? Or was he a good man to let alone +when one was looking for trouble? Webb could not be sure yet, though he +made a shrewd guess. But he knew it would not he long before he found +out. + + + + +Chapter II + +Shoot-a-Buck Canon + + +Webb sent for Billie Prince. + +"Seems there's a bunch of bronco 'Paches camped ahead of us, Billie. +Thursday here trailed with Sieber. I want you an' him to scout in front +of us an' see we don't run into any ambush. You're under his orders, y' +understand." + +Prince was a man of few words. He nodded. + +"You know the horses that the boys claim. Well, take Thursday to the +remuda an' help him pick a mount from the extras in place of that +broomtail he's ridin'," continued the drover. "Look alive now. I don't +want my cattle stampeded because we haven't got sense enough to protect +'em. No 'Paches can touch a hoof of my stock if I can help it." + +"If they attack at all it will probably be just before daybreak, but it +is just as well to be ready for 'em," suggested Thursday. + +"I brought along some old Sharps an' some Spencers. I reckon I'll have +'em loaded an' distribute 'em among the boys. Billie, tell Yankie to have +that done. The rifles are racked up in the calf wagon." + +Billie delivered the orders of the drover to the foreman as they passed +on their way to the remuda. Joe gave a snort of derision, but let it go +at that. When Homer Webb was with one of his trail outfits he was always +its boss. + +While Thursday watched him, Prince roped out a cinnamon horse from the +remuda. The cowpuncher was a long-bodied man, smooth-muscled and lithe. +The boy had liked his level eye and his clean, brown jaw before, just as +now he approved the swift economy of his motions. + +Probably Billie was about twenty years of age, but in that country +men ripened young. Both of these lads had been brought up in that +rough-and-ready school of life which holds open session every day of the +year. Both had already given proofs of their ability to look out for +themselves in emergency. A wise, cool head rested on each of these pairs +of young shoulders. In this connection it is worth mentioning that the +West's most famous outlaw, Billie the Kid, a killer with twenty-one +notches on his gun, had just reached his majority when he met his death +some years later at the hands of Pat Garrett. + +The new rider for the Flying V Y outfit did not accept the judgment of +Prince without confirming it. He examined the hoofs of the horse and felt +its legs carefully. He looked well to its ears to make sure that ticks +from the mesquite had not infected the silky inner flesh. + +"A good bronc, looks like," he commented. + +"One of the fastest in the remuda--not very gentle, though." + +Thursday picked the witches' bridles from its mane before he saddled. As +his foot found the stirrup the cinnamon rose into the air, humped its +back, and came down with all four legs stiff. The quirt burned its flank, +and the animal went up again to whirl round in the air. The boy stuck to +the saddle and let out a joyous whoop. The battle was on. + +Suddenly as it had begun the contest ended. With the unreasoning impulse +of the half-broken cowpony the cinnamon subsided to gentle obedience. + +The two riders cantered across the prairie in the direction of the Indian +camp. That the Apaches were still there Thursday thought altogether +likely, for he knew that it takes a week to make mescal. No doubt the +raiders had stopped to hold a jamboree over the success of their +outbreak. + +The scouts from the cattle herd deflected toward a butte that pushed out +as a salient into the plain. From its crest they could get a sweeping +view of the valley. + +"There's a gulch back of it that leads to old man Roubideau's place," +explained Prince. "Last time we were on this Pecos drive the boss stopped +an' bought a bunch of three-year-olds from him. He's got a daughter +that's sure a pippin, old man Roubideau has. Shoot, ride, rope--that +girl's got a lot of these alleged bullwhackers beat a mile at any one of +'em." + +Thursday did not answer. He had left the saddle and was examining the +ground carefully. Billie joined him. In the soft sand of the wash were +tracks of horses' hoofs. Patiently the trailer followed them foot by foot +to the point where they left the dry creek-bed and swung up the broken +bank to a swale. + +"Probably Roubideau and his son Jean after strays," suggested Prince. + +"No. Notice this track here, how it's broken off at the edge. When I cut +Indian sign yesterday, this was one of those I saw." + +"Then these are 'Paches too?" + +"Yes." + +"Goin' to the Roubideau place." The voice of Billie was low and husky. +His brown young face had been stricken gray. Bleak fear lay in the gray +eyes. His companion knew he was thinking of the girl. "How many of 'em do +you make out?" + +"Six or seven. Not sure which." + +"How old?" + +"They passed here not an hour since." + +It was as if a light of hope had been lit in the face of the young man. +"Mebbe there's time to help yet. Kid, I'm goin' in." + +Jim Thursday made no reply, unless it was one to vault to the saddle and +put his horse to the gallop. They rode side by side, silently and +alertly, rifles across the saddle-horns in their hands. The boy from +Arizona looked at his new friend with an increase of respect. This was, +of course, a piece of magnificent folly. What could two boys do against +half a dozen wily savages? But it was the sort of madness that he loved. +His soul went out in a gush of warm, boyish admiration to Billie Prince. +It was the beginning of a friendship that was to endure, in spite of +rivalry and division and misunderstanding, through many turbid years of +trouble. This was no affair of theirs. Webb had sent them out to protect +the cattle drive. They were neglecting his business for the sake of an +adventure that might very well mean the death of both of them. But it was +characteristic of Thursday that it never even occurred to him to let +Prince take the chance alone. Even in the days to come, when his name was +anathema in the land, nobody ever charged that he would not go through +with a comrade. + +There drifted to them presently the faint sound of a shot. It was +followed by a second and a third. + +"The fight's on," cried Thursday. + +Billie's quirt stung the flank of his pony. Near the entrance to the +canon his companion caught up with him. From the rock walls of the gulch +came to them booming echoes of rifles in action. + +"Roubideau must be standin' 'em off," shouted Prince. + +"Can we take the 'Paches by surprise? Is there any other way into the +canon?" + +"Don't know. Can't stop to find out. I'm goin' straight up the road." + +The younger man offered no protest. It might well be that the ranchman +was in desperate case and in need of immediate help to save his family. +Anyhow, the decision was out of his hands. + +The horses pounded forward and swept round a curve of the gulch into +sight of the ranch. In a semicircle, crouched behind the shelter of +boulders and cottonwoods, the Indian line stretched across the gorge and +along one wall. The buildings lay in a little valley, where an arroyo ran +down at a right angle and broke the rock escarpment. A spurt of smoke +came from a window of the stable as the rescuers galloped into view. + +One of the Apaches caught sight of them and gave a guttural shout of +warning. His gun jumped to the shoulder and simultaneously the bullet was +on its way. But no living man could throw a shot quicker than Jim +Thursday, if the stories still told of him around camp-fires are true. +Now he did not wait to take sight, but fired from his hip. The Indian +rose, half-turned, and fell forward across the boulder, his naked body +shining in the sun. By a hundredth part of a second the white boy had +out-speeded him. + +The riders flung themselves from their horses and ran for cover. + +The very audacity of their attack had its effect. The Indians guessed +these two were the advance guard of a larger party which had caught them +in a trap. Between two fires, with one line of retreat cut off, the +bronco Apaches wasted no time in deliberation. They made a rush for their +horses, mounted, and flew headlong toward the arroyo, their bodies lying +low on the backs of the ponies. + +The Indians rode superbly, their bare, sinewy legs gripping even to the +moccasined feet the sides of the ponies. Without saddle or bridle, except +for the simple nose rope, they guided their mounts surely, the brown +bodies rising and falling in perfect accord with the motion of the +horses. + +A shot from the stable hit one as he galloped past. While his horse was +splashing through the creek the Mescalero slid slowly down, head first, +into the brawling water. + +Billie took a long, steady aim and fired. A horse stumbled and went down, +flinging the rider over its head. With a "Yip--Yip!" of triumph Thursday +drew a bead on the man as he rose and dodged forward. Just as the boy +fired a sharp pain stung his foot. One of the escaping natives had +wounded him. + +The dismounted man ran forward a few steps and pulled himself to the back +of a pony already carrying one rider. Something in the man's gait and +costume struck Prince. + +"That fellow's no Injun," he called to his friend. + +"Look!" Thursday was pointing to the saddle-back between two peaks at the +head of the arroyo. + +A girl on horseback had just come over the summit and stood silhouetted +against the sky. Even in that moment while they watched her she realized +for the first time her danger. She turned to fly, and she and her horse +disappeared down the opposite slope. The Mescaleros swept up the hill +toward her. + +"They'll git her! They'll sure git her!" cried Billie, making for his +horse. + +The younger man ran limping to his cinnamon. At every step he winced, and +again while his weight rested on the wounded foot as he dragged himself +to the saddle. A dozen yards behind his companion he sent his horse +splashing through the creek. + +The cowponies, used to the heavy going in the hills, took the slope in +short, quick plunges. Neither of the young men used the spur, for the +chase might develop into a long one with stamina the deciding factor. The +mesquite was heavy and the hill steep, but presently they struck a cattle +run which led to the divide. + +Two of the Apaches stopped at the summit for a shot at their pursuers, +but neither of the young men wasted powder in answer. They knew that +close-range work would prove far more deadly and that only a chance hit +could serve them now. + +From Billie, who had reached the crest first, came a cry of dismay. His +partner, a moment later, knew the reason for it. One of the Apaches, +racing across the valley below, was almost at the heels of the girl. + +The cowpunchers flung their ponies down the sharp incline recklessly. The +animals were sure-footed as mountain goats. Otherwise they could never +have reached the valley right side up. It was a stretch of broken shale +with much loose rubble. The soft sandstone farther along had eroded and +there was a great deal of slack debris down which the horses slipped and +slid, now on their haunches and again on all fours. + +The valley stretched for a mile before them and terminated at a rock wall +into which, no doubt, one or more canons cut like sword clefts. The +cowpunchers had picked mounts, but it was plain they could not overhaul +the Apaches before the Indians captured the girl. + +Billie, even while galloping at full speed, began a long-distance fire +upon the enemy. One of the Mescaleros had caught the bridle of the young +woman's horse and was stopping the animal. It looked for a moment as if +the raiders were going to make a stand, but presently their purpose +became clear to those in pursuit. The one that Billie had picked for a +renegade white dropped from the horse upon which he was riding double and +swung up behind the captive. The huddle of men and ponies opened up and +was in motion again toward the head of the valley. + +But though the transfer had been rapid, it had taken time. The pursuers, +thundering across the valley, had gained fast. Rifles barked back and +forth angrily. + +The Indians swerved sharply to the left for the mouth of a canon. Here +they pulled up to check the cowboys, who slid from their saddles to use +their ponies for protection. + +"That gorge to the right is called Escondido Canon," explained Prince. +"We combed it for cattle last year. About three miles up it runs into the +one where the 'Paches are! Don't remember the name of that one." + +"I'll give it a new name," answered the boy. He raised his rifle, rested +it across the back of his pony, and took careful aim. An Indian plunged +from his horse. "Shoot-a-Buck Canon--how'll that do for a name?" inquired +Thursday with a grin. + +Prince let out a whoop. "You got him right. He'll never smile again. +Shoot-a-Buck Canon goes." + +The Indians evidently held a hurried consultation and changed their minds +about holding the gorge against such deadly shooting as this. + +"They're gun-shy," announced Thursday. "They don't like the way we fog +'em and they're goin' to hit the trail, Billie." + +After one more shot Prince made the mistake of leaving the shelter of his +horse too soon. He swung astride and found the stirrup. A puff of smoke +came from the entrance to the gulch. Billie turned to his friend with a +puzzled, sickly smile on his face. "They got me, kid." + +"Bad?" + +The cowboy began to sag in the saddle. His friend helped him to the +ground. The wound was in the thigh. + +"I'll tie it up for you an' you'll be good as new," promised his friend. + +The older man looked toward the gorge. No Indians were in sight. + +"I can wait, but that little girl in the hands of those devils can't. Are +you game to play a lone hand, kid?" he asked. + +"I reckon." + +"Then ride hell-for-leather up Escondido. It's shorter than the way they +took. Where the gulches come together be waitin' an' git 'em from the +brush. There's just one slim chance you'll make it an' come back alive." + +The boy's eyes were shining. "Suits me fine. I'll go earn that name I +christened myself--Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em." + +Billie, his face twisted with pain, watched the youngster disappear at a +breakneck gallop into Escondido. + + + + +Chapter III + +Ranse Roush Pays + + +Jim Thursday knew that his sole chance of success lay in reaching the +fork of the canons before the Indians. So far he had been lucky. Three +Apaches had gone to their happy hunting ground, and though both he and +Billie were wounded, his hurt at least did not interfere with accurate +rifle-fire. But it was not reasonable to expect such good fortune to +hold. In the party he was pursuing were four men, all of them used to +warfare in the open. Unless he could take them at a disadvantage he could +not by any possibility defeat them and rescue their captive. + +His cinnamon pony took the rising ground at a steady gallop. Its stride +did not falter, though its breathing was labored. Occasionally the rider +touched its flank with the sharp rowel of a spur. The boy was a lover of +horses. He had ridden too many dry desert stretches, had too often kept +night watch over a sleeping herd, not to care for the faithful and +efficient animal that served him and was a companion to his loneliness. +Like many plainsmen he made of his mount a friend. + +But he dared not spare his pony now. He must ride the heart out of the +gallant brute for the sake of that life he had come to save. And while he +urged it on, his hand patted the sweat-stained neck and his low voice +sympathized. + +"You've got to go to it, old fellow, if it kills you," he said aloud. "We +got to save that girl for Billie, ain't we? We can't let those red devils +take her away, can we?" + +It was a rough cattle trail he followed, strewn here with boulders and +there tilted down at breakneck angle of slippery shale. Sometimes it fell +abruptly into washes and more than once rose so sharply that a heather +cat could scarce have clambered up. But Thursday flung his horse +recklessly at the path, taking chances of a fall that might end the mad +race. He could not wait to pick a way. His one hope lay in speed, in +reaching the fork before the enemy. He sacrificed everything to that. + +From the top of a sharp pitch he looked down into the twin canon of +Escondido. A sharp bend cut off the view to the left, so that he could +see for only seventy-five or a hundred yards. But his glance followed the +gulch up for half a mile and found no sign of life. He was in time. + +Swiftly he made his preparations. First he led the exhausted horse back +to a clump of young cottonwoods and tied it safely. From its place beside +the saddle he took the muley gun and with the rifle in his other hand he +limped swiftly back to the trail. Every step was torture, but he could +not stop to think of that now. His quick eye picked a perfect spot for an +ambush where a great rock leaned against another at the edge of the +bluff. Between the two was a narrow opening through which he could +command the bend in the trail below. To enlarge this he scooped out the +dirt with his fingers then reloaded the rifle and thrust it into the +crevice. The sawed-off shotgun lay close to his hand. + +Till now he had found no time to get nervous, but as the minutes passed +he began to tremble violently and to whimper. In spite of his experience +he was only a boy and until to-day had never killed a man. + +"Doggone it, if I ain't done gone an' got buck fever," he reproached +himself. "I reckon it's because Billie Prince ain't here that I'm so +scairt. I wisht I had a drink, so as I'd be right when the old muley gun +gits to barkin'." + +A faint sound, almost indistinguishable, echoed up the gulch to him. +Miraculously his nervousness vanished. Every nerve was keyed up, every +muscle tense, but he was cool as water in a mountain stream. + +The sound repeated itself, a faint tinkle of gravel rolling from a trail +beneath the hoof of a horse. At the last moment Thursday changed his mind +and substituted the shotgun for the rifle. + +"Old muley she spatters all over the State of Texas. I might git two at +once," he muttered. + +The light, distant murmur of voices reached him. His trained ear told him +just how far away the speakers were. + +An Apache rounded the bend, a tall, slender young brave wearing only a +low-cut breech-cloth and a pair of moccasins. Around his waist was +strapped a belt full of cartridges and from it projected the handle of a +long Mexican knife. The brown body of the youth was lithe and graceful as +that of a panther. He was smiling over his shoulder at the next rider in +line, a heavy-set, squat figure on a round-bellied pinto. That smile was +to go out presently like the flame of a blown candle. A third Mescalero +followed. Like that of the others, his coarse, black hair fell to the +shoulders, free except for a band that encircled the forehead. + +Still the boy did not fire. He waited till the last of the party +appeared, a man in fringed buckskin breeches and hickory shirt riding +pillion behind a young woman. Both of these were white. + +The sawed-off gun of Thursday covered the second rider carefully. Before +the sound of the shot boomed down the gorge the Apache was lifted from +the bare back of the pony. The heavy charge of buckshot had riddled him +through and through. + +Instantly the slim, young brave in the lead dug his heels into the flank +of his pony, swung low to the far side so that only a leg was visible, +and flew arrow-straight up the canon for safety. Thursday let him go. + +Twice his rifle rang out. At that distance it was impossible for a good +shot to miss. One bullet passed through the head of the third Mescalero. +The other brought down the pony upon which the whites were riding. + +The fall of the horse flung the girl free, but the foot of her captor was +caught between the saddle and the ground. Thursday drew a bead on him +while he lay there helpless, but some impulse of mercy held his hand. The +man was that creature accursed in the border land, a renegade who has +turned his face against his own race and must to prove his sincerity to +the tribe out-Apache an Apache at cruelty. Still, he was white after +all--and Jim Thursday was only eighteen. + +Rifle in hand the boy clambered down the jagged rock wall to the dry +river-bed below. The foot of his high-heeled boot was soggy with blood, +but for the present he had to ignore the pain messages that throbbed to +his brain. The business on hand would not wait. + +While Thursday was still slipping down from one outcropping ledge of rock +to another, a plunge of the wounded horse freed the renegade. The man +scrambled to his feet and ran shakily for the shelter of a boulder. In +his hurry to reach cover he did not stop to get the rifle that had been +flung a few yards from him when he fell. + +The boy caught one glimpse of that evil, fear-racked face. The blood +flushed his veins with a surge of triumph. He was filled with the savage, +primitive exultation of the head-hunter. For four years he had slept on +the trail of this man and had at last found him. The scout had fought the +Apaches impersonally, without rancor, because a call had come to him that +he could not ignore. But now the lust of blood was on him. He had become +that cold, implacable thing known throughout the West as a "killer." + +The merciless caution that dictates the methods of a killer animated his +movements now. Across the gulch, nearly one hundred and fifty yards from +him, the renegade lay crouched. A hunched shoulder was just visible. + +Thursday edged carefully along the ledge. He felt for holds with his hand +and feet, for not once did his gaze lift from that patch of hickory +shirt. The eyes of the boy had narrowed to slits of deadly light. He was +wary as a hungry wolf and as dangerous. That the girl had disappeared +around the bend he did not know. His brain functioned for just one +purpose--to get the enemy with whom he had come at last to grips. + +As the boy crept along the rock face for a better view of his victim, the +minutes fled. Five of them--ten--a quarter of an hour passed. The +renegade lay motionless. Perhaps he hoped that his location was unknown. + +The man-hunter on the ledge flung a bullet against the protecting +boulder. His laugh of cruel derision drifted across the canon. + +"Run to earth at last, Ranse Roush!" he shouted, "I swore I'd camp on +your trail till I got you--you an' the rest of yore poison tribe." + +From the trapped wretch quavered back a protest. + +"Goddlemighty, I ain't done nothin' to you-all. Lemme explain." + +"Before you do any explainin' mebbe you'd better guess who it is that's +goin' to send yore cowardly soul to hell inside of five minutes." + +"If you're some kin to that gal on the hawss with me, why, I'll tell you +the honest-to-God truth. I was aimin' to save her from the 'Paches when I +got a chanct. Come on down an' let's we-uns talk it over reasonable." + +The boy laughed again, but there was something very far from mirth in the +sound of that chill laughter. "If you won't guess I'll have to tell you +Ever hear of the Clantons, Ranse Roush? I'm one of 'em. Now you know what +chance you got to talk yoreself out of this thing." + +"I--I'm glad to meet up with you-all. I got to admit that the Roush clan +is dirt mean. Tha's why I broke away from 'em. Tha's why I come out here. +You Clantons is all right. I never did go in for this bushwhackin' with +Dave an' Hugh. I never--" + +"You're a born liar like the rest of yore wolf tribe. You come out here +because the country got too hot to hold you after what you did to 'Lindy +Clanton. I might 'a' knowed I'd find you with the 'Paches. You allus was +low-mixed Injun." The boy had fallen into the hill vernacular to which he +had been born. He was once more a tribal feudist of the border land. + +"I swear I hadn't a thing to do with that," the man cried eagerly. "You +shore done got that wrong. Dave an' Hugh done that. They're a bad lot. +When I found out about 'Lindy Clanton I quarreled with 'em an' we-all +split up company. Tha's the way of it." + +"You're ce'tainly in bad luck then," the boy shouted back tauntingly. +"For I aim to stomp you out like I would a copperhead." Very distinctly +he added his explanation. "I'm 'Lindy Clanton's brother." + +Roush begged for his life. He groveled in the dust. He promised to +reform, to leave the country, to do anything that was asked of him. + +"Go ahead. It's meat an' drink to me to hear a Roush whine. I got all day +to this job, but I aim to do it thorough," jeered Clanton. + +A bullet flattened itself against the rock wall ten feet below the boy. +In despair the man was shooting wildly with his revolver. He knew there +was no use in pleading, that his day of judgment had come. + +Young Clanton laughed in mockery. "Try again, Roush. You ain't quite got +the range." + +The man made a bolt for the bend in the canon a hundred yards away. +Instantly the rifle leaped to the shoulder of the boy. + +"Right in front of you, Roush," he prophesied. + +The bullet kicked up the dust at the feet of the running man. The nerve +of Roush failed him and he took cover again behind a scrub live-oak. A +memory had flashed to him of the day when he had seen a thirteen-year-old +boy named Jim Clanton win a turkey shoot against the best marksmen of +the hill country. + +The army Colt spit out once more at the boy on the ledge. Before the echo +had died away the boom of an explosion filled the canon. Roush pitched +forward on his face. + +Jim Clanton lowered his rifle with an exclamation. His face was a picture +of amazement. Some one had stolen his vengeance from him by a hair's +breadth. + +Two men came round the bend on horseback. Behind them rode a girl. She +was mounted on the barebacked pinto of the Indian Clanton had killed +with the shotgun. + +The boy clambered down to the bed of the gulch and limped toward them. +The color had ebbed from his lips. At every step a pain shot through his +leg. But in spite of his growing weakness anger blazed in the light-blue +eyes. + +"I waited four years to git him. I kept the trail hot from Tucson to +Vegas an' back to Santone. An' now, doggone it, when my finger was on the +trigger an' the coyote as good as dead, you cut in an' shoot the +daylights out of him. By gum, it ain't fair!" + +The older man looked at him in astonishment. "But he is only a child, +Polly! Cela me passe!" + +"Mebbe I am only a kid," the boy retorted resentfully. "But I reckon I'm +man enough to handle any Roush that ever lived. I wasn't askin' for help +from you-uns that I heerd tell of." + +The younger man laughed. He was six or seven years older than the girl, +who could not have been more than seventeen. Both of them bore a marked +likeness to the middle-aged man who had spoken. Jim guessed that this was +the Roubideau family of whom Billie Prince had told him. + +"Just out of the cradle, by Christmas, and he's killed four 'Paches +inside of an hour an' treed a renegade to boot," said young Roubideau. +"I'd call it a day's work, kid, for it sure beats all records ever I knew +hung up by one man." + +The admiration of the young rancher was patent. He could not take his +eyes from the youthful phenomenon. + +"He's wounded, father," the girl said in a low voice. + +The boy looked at her and his anger died away. "Billie sent me up the +gulch when he was shot. He 'lowed it was up to me to git you back from +those devils, seein' as he couldn't go himself." + +Polly nodded. She seemed to be the kind of girl that understands without +being told in detail. + +Before Thursday could protect himself, Roubideau, senior, had seized him +in his arms, embraced him, and kissed first one cheek and then the other. +"Eh bien! But you are the brave boy! I count it honor to know you. My +little Polly, have you not save her? Ah! But I forget the introductions. +Myself, I am Pierre Roubideau, a tout propos at your service. My son +Jean. Pauline--what you call our babie." + +"My real name is Jim Clanton," answered the boy. "I've been passin' by +that of 'Thursday' so that none of the Roush outfit would know I was in +the country till I met up face to face with 'em." + +"Clanton! It is a name we shall remember in our prayers, n'est-ce pas, +Polly?" Pierre choked up and wrung fervently the hand of the youngster. + +Clanton was both embarrassed and wary. He did not know at what moment +Roubideau would disgrace him by attempting another embrace. There was +something in the Frenchman's eye that told of an emotion not yet expended +fully. + +"Oh, shucks; you make a heap of fuss about nothin'," he grumbled. "Didn't +I tell you it was Billie Prince sent me? An' say, I got a pill in my +foot. Kindness of one of them dad-gummed Mescaleros. I hate to walk on +that laig. I wish yore boy would go up on the bluff an' look after my +horse. I 'most rode it to death, I reckon, comin' up the canon. An' +there's a sawed-off shotgun. He'll find it..." + +For a few moments the ground had been going up and down in waves before +the eyes of the boy. Now he clutched at a stirrup leather for support, +but his fingers could not seem to find it. Before he could steady himself +the bed of the dry creek rose up and hit him in the head. + + + + +Chapter IV + +Pauline Roubideau Says "Thank You." + + +Jimmie Clanton slid back from unconsciousness to a world the center of +which was a girl sitting on a rock with his rifle across her knees. The +picture did not at first associate itself with any previous experience. +She was a brown, slim young thing in a calico print that fitted snugly +the soft lines of her immature figure. The boy watched her shyly and +wondered at the quiet self-reliance of her. She was keeping guard over +him, and there was about her a cool vigilance that went oddly with the +small, piquant face and the tumbled mass of curly chestnut hair that had +fallen in a cascade across her shoulders. + +"Where are yore folks?" he asked presently. + +She turned her head slowly and looked at him. Southern suns had sprinkled +beneath her eyes a myriad of powdered freckles. She met his gaze +fairly, with a boyish directness and candor. + +"Jean has ridden out to tell your friends about you and Mr. Prince. +Father has gone back to the house to fix up a travois to carry you." + +"Sho! I can ride." + +"There's no need of it. You must have lost a great deal of blood." + +He looked down at his foot and saw that the boot had been cut away. A +bandage of calico had been tied around the wound. He guessed that the +girl had sacrificed part of a skirt. + +"And you stayed here to see the 'Paches didn't play with me whilst yore +father was gone," he told her. + +"There wasn't any danger, of course. The only one that escaped is miles +away from here. But we didn't like to leave you alone." + +"That's right good of you." + +Her soft, brown eyes met his again. They poured upon him the gift of +passionate gratitude she could not put into words. It was from something +much more horrible than death that he had snatched her. One moment she +had been a creature crushed, leaden despair in her heart. Then the +miracle had flashed down from the sky. She was free, astride the pinto, +galloping for home. + +"Yes, you owe us much." There was a note of light sarcasm in her clear, +young voice, but the feeling in her heart swept it away in an emotional +rush of words from the tongue of her father. "Vous avez pris le fait et +cause pour moi. Sans vous j'etais perdu." + +"You're French," he said. + +"My father is, not my mother. She was from Tennessee." + +"I'm from the South, too." + +"You didn't need to tell me that," she answered with a little smile. + +"Oh, I'm a Westerner now, but you ought to have heerd me talk when I +first came out." He broached a grievance. "Say, will you tell yore dad +not to do that again? I'm no kid." + +"Do what?" + +"You know." The red flamed into his face. "If it got out among the boys +what he'd done, I'd never hear the last of it." + +"You mean kissed you?" + +"Sure I do. That ain't no way to treat a fellow. I'm past eighteen if I +am small for my age. Nobody can pull the pat-you-on-the-head-sonny stuff +on me." + +"But you don't understand. That isn't it at all. My father is French. +That makes all the difference. When he kissed you it meant--oh, that he +honored and esteemed you because you fought for me." + +"I been tellin' you right along that Billie Prince is to blame. Let him +go an' kiss Billie an' see if he'll stand for it." + +A flash of roguishness brought out an unexpected dimple near the corner +of her insubordinate mouth. "We'll be good, all of us, and never do it +again. Cross our hearts." + +Young Clanton reddened beneath the tan. Without looking at her he felt +the look she tilted sideways at him from under the long, curved lashes. +Of course she was laughing at him. He knew that much, even though he +lacked the experience to meet her in kind. Oddly enough, there pricked +through his embarrassment a delicious little tingle of delight. So long +as she took him in as a partner of her gayety she might make as much fun +of him as she pleased. + +But the owlish dignity of his age would not let him drop the subject +without further explanation. "It's all right for yore dad to much you. I +reckon a girl kinder runs to kisses an' such doggoned foolishness. But a +man's different. He don't go in for it." + +"Oh, doesn't he?" asked Polly demurely. She did not think it necessary to +mention that every unmarried man who came to the ranch wanted to make +love to her before he left. "I'm glad you told me, because I'm only a +girl and I don't know much about it. And since you're a man, of course +you know." + +"That's the way it is," he assured her, solemn as a pouter. + +She bit her lip to keep from laughing out, but on the heels of her mirth +came a swift reproach. In his knowledge of life he might be a boy, but in +one way at least he had proved himself a man. He had taken his life in +his hands and ridden to save her without a second thought. He had fought +a good fight, one that would be a story worth telling when she had become +an old woman with grandchildren at her knee. + +"Does your foot hurt you much?" she asked gently. + +"It sort o' keeps my memory jogged up. It's a kind of forget-me-not +souvenir, for a good boy, compliments of a Mescalero buck, name unknown, +probably now permanently retired from his business of raisin' Cain. But +it might be a heap worse. They would've been glad to collect our scalps +if it hadn't been onconvenient, I expect." + +"Yes," she agreed gravely. + +He sat up abruptly. "Say, what about Billie? I left him wounded outside. +Did yore folks find him?" + +"Yes. It seems the Apaches trapped them in the stable. They roped horses +and came straight for the canon. They found Mr. Prince, but they had +no time to stop then. Father is looking after him now. He said he was +going to take him to the house in the buckboard." + +"Is he badly hurt?" + +"Jean thinks he will be all right. Mr. Prince told him it was only a +flesh wound, but the muscles were so paralysed he couldn't get around." + +"The bullet did not strike an artery, then?" + +"My brother seemed to think not." + +"I reckon there's no doctor near." + +Her eyes twinkled. "Not very near. Our nearest neighbor lives on the +Pecos one hundred land seventeen miles away. But my father is as good as +a doctor any day of the week." + +"Likely you don't borrow coffee next door when you run out of it +onexpected. But don't you get lonesome?" + +"Haven't time," she told him cheerfully. "Besides, somebody going through +stops off every three or four months. Then we learn all the news." + +Jimmie glanced at her shyly and looked quickly away. This girl was not +like any woman he had known. Most of them were drab creatures with the +spirit washed out of them. His sister had been an exception. She had had +plenty of vitality, good looks and pride, but the somber shadow of her +environment had not made for gayety. It was different with Pauline +Roubideau. Though she had just escaped from terrible danger, laughter +bubbled up in her soft throat, mirth rippled over her mobile little face. +She expressed herself with swift, impulsive gestures at times. Then again +she suggested an inheritance of slow grace from the Southland of her +mother. + +He did not understand the contradictions of her and they worried him a +little. Billie had told him that she could rope and shoot as well as any +man. He had seen for himself that she was an expert rider. Her nerves +were good enough to sit beside him at quiet ease within a stone's throw +of three sprawling bodies from which she had seen the lusty life driven +scarce a half-hour since. Already he divined the boyish _camaraderie_ +that was so simple and direct an expression of good-will. And yet there +was something about her queer little smile he could not make out. It +hinted that she was really old enough to be his mother, that she was +heiress of wisdom handed down by her sex through all the generations. +As yet he had not found out that he was only a boy and she was a woman. + +*** + + +Chapter V + +No Four-Flusher + + +Pauline Roubideau knew the frontier code. She evinced no curiosity about +the past of this boy-man who had come into her life at the nick of time. +None the less she was eager to know what connection lay between him and +the renegade her brother had killed. She had heard Jim Clanton say that +he had waited four years for his revenge and had followed the man all +over the West. Why? What motive could be powerful enough with a boy of +fourteen to sway so completely his whole life toward vengeance? + +She set herself to find out without asking. Inside of ten minutes the +secret which had been locked so long in his warped soul had been confided +to her. The boy broke down when he told her the story of his sister's +death. He was greatly ashamed of himself for his emotion, but the touch +of her warm sympathy melted the ice in his heart and set him sobbing. + +Quickly she came across to him and knelt down by his side. + +"You poor boy! You poor, poor boy!" she murmured. + +Her arm crept round his shoulders with the infinitely tender caress of +the mother that lies, dormant or awake, in all good women. + +"I--I--I'm nothing but a baby," he gulped, trying desperately to master +his sobs. + +"Don't talk foolishness," she scolded to comfort him. "I wouldn't think +much of you if you didn't love your sister enough to cry for her." + +There were tears in her own eyes. Her lively young imagination pictured +vividly the desolation of the young hill girl betrayed so cruelly, the +swift decline of her stern, broken-hearted father. The thought of the +half-grown boy following the betrayers of his sister across the +continent, his life dedicated for years to vengeance, was a dreadful +thing to contemplate. It shocked her sense of all that was fitting. No +doubt his mission had become a religion with him. He had lain down at +night with that single purpose before him. He had risen with it in the +morning. It had been his companion throughout the day. From one season to +another he had cherished it when he should have been filled with the +happy, healthy play impulses natural to his age. + +The boy told the story of that man-hunt without a suspicion that there +was anything in it to outrage the feelings of the girl. + +"If it hadn't been for old Nance Cunningham, I reckon Devil Dave an' his +brothers would have fixed up some cock an' bull story about how 'Lindy +was drowned by accident. But folks heard Nance an' then wouldn't believe +a word they said. Dad swore us Clantons to wipe out the whole clan of +'em. Every last man in the hills that was decent got to cussin' the Roush +outfit. Their own friends turned their backs on all three. Then the +sheriff come up from the settlemint an' they jest naturally lit out. + +"I heerd tell they were in Arizona an' after dad died I took after 'em. +But seemed like I had no luck. When I struck their trail they had always +just gone. To-day I got Ranse--leastways I would'a' got him if yore +brother hadn't interfered. I'll meet up with the others one o' these +times. I'll git 'em too." + +He spoke with quiet conviction, as if it were a business matter that had +to be looked after. + +"Did you ever hear this: 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the +Lord'?" + +He nodded. "Dad used to read that to me. There's a heap in the Bible +about killin' yore enemies. Dad said that vengeance verse meant that +we-all was the Lord's deputies, like a sheriff has folks to help him, an' +we was certainly to repay the Roushes an' not to forgit interest +neither." + +The girl shook her head vigorously. "I don't think that's what it means +at all. If you'll read the verses above and below, you'll see it doesn't. +We're to feed our enemies when they are hungry. We're to do them good for +evil." + +"That's all right for common, every-day enemies, but the Roush clan ain't +that kind," explained the boy stubbornly. "It shore is laid on me to +destroy 'em root an' branch, like the Bible says." + +By the way he wagged his head he might have been a wise little old man. +The savage philosophy of the boy had been drawn in with his mother's +milk. It had been talked by his elders while as a child he drowsed before +the big fireplace on winter nights. After his sister's tragic death it +had been driven home by Bible texts and by a solemn oath of vengeance. +Was it likely that anything she could say would have weight with him? For +the present the girl gave up her resolve to convert him to a more +Christian point of view. + +The sun had sunk behind the canon wall when Pierre Roubideau arrived with +a travois which he had hastily built. There was no wagon-road up the +gulch and it would have been difficult to get the buckboard in as far as +the fork over the broken terrain. As a voyageur of the North he had often +seen wounded men carried by the Indians in travois across the plains. He +knew, too, that the tribes of the Southwest use them. This one was +constructed of two sixteen-foot poles with a canvas lashed from one bar +to the other. The horse was harnessed between the ends of the shafts, the +other ends dragging on the ground. + +Clanton looked at this device distastefully. "I'm no squaw. Whyfor can't +I climb on its back an' ride?" + +"Because you are seeck. It iss of the importance that you do not exert +yourself. Voyons! You will be comfortable here. N'est-ce pas, Polly?" +Pierre gesticulated as he explained volubly. He even illustrated the +comfort by lying down in the travois himself and giving a dramatic +representation of sleep. + +The young man grumbled, but gave way reluctantly. + +"How's Billie Prince?" he asked presently from the cot where he lay. + +"He will hafe a fever, but soon he will be well again. I, Pierre, promise +it. For he iss of a good strength and sound as a dollar." + +Pauline, rifle in hand, scouted ahead of the travois and picked the +smoothest way down the rough ravine. The horse that Roubideau drove was +an old and patient one. Its master held it to a slow, even pace, so that +the wounded boy was jolted as little as possible. When they had reached +the entrance to the gorge, travel across the valley became less bumpy. + +The young girl walked as if she loved it. The fine, free swing of the +hill woman was in her step. She breasted the slope with the light grace +of a forest faun. Presently she dropped back to a place beside the +conveyance and smiled encouragement at him. + +"Pretty bad, is it?" + +He grinned back. "It's up to me to play the hand I've been dealt." + +That he was in a good deal of pain was easy to guess. + +"We're past the worst of it," Pauline told him, "Up this hill--down the +other side--and then we're home." + +The bawling of thirsty cattle and the blatting of calves could be heard +now. + +"It iss that Monsieur Webb has taken my advice to drive the herd up the +canon and into the park for the night," explained Roubideau. "There iss +one way in, one way out. Guard the entrances and the 'Paches cannot +stampede the cattle. Voila!" + +From the hill-top the leaders of the herd could be seen drinking at the +creek. Cattle behind were pushing forward to get at the water, while the +riders on the point and at the swing were directing the movement of the +beeves, now checking the steady pressure from the rear and now hastening +the pace of those dawdling in the stream. To add to the confusion cows +were mooing loudly for their off-spring not yet unloaded from the calf +wagon. + +Near the summit Jean with the buckboard met the party from the canon. He +helped Clanton to the seat and drove to the house. + +Webb cantered up. "What's this I hear about you, Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em? They +tell me you've made four good Injuns to-day, shot up a renegade, rescued +this young lady here, 'most rode one of my horses to death, an' got stove +up in the foot yore own self. It certainly must have been yore busy +afternoon." + +The drover looked at him with a new respect. He had found the answer to +the question he had put himself a few hours earlier. This boy was no +four-flusher. He not only knew how and when to shoot, was game as a +bulldog, and keen as a weasel; he possessed, too, that sixth sense so +necessary to a gun-fighter, the instinct which shows him how to take +advantage of every factor in the situation so as to come through safely. + +"I didn't do it all," answered Clanton, flushing. "Billie helped, and the +Roubideaus got two of 'em." + +"That's not the way Billie tells it. Anyhow, you-all made a great gather +between you. Six 'Paches that will never smile again ought to give the +raiders a pain." + +"Don't you think we'd better get him to bed?" said Pauline gently. + +"You're shoutin', ma'am," agreed Webb. "Roubideau, the little boss says +Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em is to be put to bed. I'll tote him in if you'll +give my boys directions about throwin' the herd into yore park and +loose-herdin' 'em there." + +The Missourian picked up the wounded boy and followed Pauline into the +house. She led the way to her own little bedroom. It was the most +comfortable in the house and that was the one she wanted Jim Clanton to +have. + + + + +Chapter VI + +Billie Asks a Question + + +Roubideau rounded up next day his beef stock and sold two hundred head to +the drover. During the second day the riders were busy putting the road +brand on the cattle just bought. + +"Don't bust yore suspenders on this job, boys," Webb told his men. "I'd +just as lief lie up here for a few days while Uncle Sam is roundin' up +his pets camped out there. Old man Roubideau says we're welcome to stick +around. The feed's good. Our cattle are some gaunted with the drive. It +won't hurt a mite to let 'em stay right here a spell." + +But on the third day came news that induced the Missourian to change his +mind. Jean, who had been out as a scout, returned with the information +that a company of cavalry had come down from the fort and that the +Apaches had hastily decamped for parts unknown. + +"I reckon we'll throw into the trail again tomorrow, Joe," the drover +told Yankie. "No use wastin' time here if we don't have to stay. We'll +mosey along toward the river. Kinder take it easy an' drift the herd down +slow so as to let the cattle put on flesh. Billie an' the kid can join us +soon as they're fit to travel." + +The decision was announced on the porch of the Roubideau house. Its owner +and his daughter were present. So was Dad Wrayburn. The Texan old-timer +snorted as he rolled a cigarette. + +"Hm! Soft thing those two boys have got sittin' around an' bein' petted +by Miss Polly here. I've a notion to go an' bust my laig too. Will you +nurse me real tender, ma'am, if I get stove up pullin' off a grand-stand +play like they done?" + +"The hospital is full. We haven't got room for more invalids, Mr. +Wrayburn," laughed the girl. + +"Well, you let me know when there's a vacancy, Miss Polly. My sister gave +me a book to read onct. It was 'most twenty years ago. The name of it was +'Ivanhoe.' I told her I would save it to read when I broke my laig. Looks +like I never will git that book read." + +By daybreak the outfit was on the move. Yankie trailed the cattle out to +the plain and started them forward leisurely. Webb had allowed himself +plenty of time for the drive. The date set for delivery at the fort was +still distant and he wanted the beeves to be in first-class condition for +inspection. To reach the Pecos he was allowing three weeks, a programme +that would let him bed the herd down early and would permit of drifting +it slowly to graze for an hour or two a day. + +The weeks that followed were red-letter ones in the life of Jim Clanton. +They gave him his first glimpse of a family life which had for its basis +not only affection, but trust and understanding. He had never before seen +a household that really enjoyed little jokes shared in common, whose +members were full of kind consideration the one for the other. The +Roubideaus had more than a touch of the French temperament. They took +life gayly and whimsically, and though they poked all kinds of fun at +each other there was never any sting to their wit. + +Pauline was a famous little nurse. It was not long before she was +offering herself as a crutch to help young Clanton limp to the sunny +porch. Two or three days later Billie joined his fellow invalid. From +where they sat the two young men could hear the girl as she went about +her work singing. Often she came out with a plate of hot, new-baked +cookies for them and a pitcher of milk. Or she would dance out without +any excuse except that of her own frank interest in the youth she shared +with her patients. + +One of the Roubideau jokes was that Polly was the mother of the family +and her father and Jean two mischievous little boys she had to scold and +pet alternately. Temporarily she took the two cowpunchers into her circle +and browbeat them shamefully with an impudent little twinkle in her +eyes. Whatever the state of Billie's mind may have been before, there can +be no doubt that now he was fathoms deep in love. With hungry eyes he +took in her laughter and raillery, her boyish high spirits, the sweet +tenderness of the girl for her father. He loved her wholly--the charm of +her comradeship, of her swift, generous impulses, of that touch of +coquetry she could not entirely subdue. + +Pierre had been a chasseur in the Franco-Prussian War. His daughter was +very proud of it, but one of her games was to mock him fondly by +swaggering back and forth while she sang: + +"Allons, enfants de la patrie, +Le jour de gloire est arrive." + +When she came to the chorus, nothing would do but all of them must join. +She taught the words and tune to Prince and Jimmie so that they could +fall into line behind the old soldier and his son: + +"Aux armes, citoyens! formez vos bataillons! + Marchons! Marchons! +Qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons." + +It always began in pretended derision, but as she swept her little +company down the porch all the gallant, imperishable soul of France spoke +in her ringing voice and the flash of her brown eyes. Surely her +patriotism was no less sound because the blood of Alsace and that of +Tennessee were fused in her ardent veins. + +The wounds of the young men healed rapidly, and both of them foresaw that +the day of their departure could no longer be postponed. Neither of them +was yet in condition to walk very far, but on horseback they were fit to +travel carefully. + +"We got all the time there is. No need of pushin' on the reins, but I +reckon the old man isn't payin' us fifty dollars a month to hold down the +Roubideau porch," said Prince regretfully. + +"No, we gotta light a shuck," admitted Jim, with no noticeable alacrity. +He was in no hurry to leave himself, even if he did not happen to be in +love. + +Billie put his fortune to the touch while he was out with Polly rounding +up some calves. They were riding knee to knee in the dust of the drag +through a small arroyo. + +The cowpuncher swallowed once or twice in a dry throat and blurted out, +"I got something to tell you before I go, Polly." + +The girl flashed a look at him. She recognized the symptoms. Her gaze +went back to the wavelike motion of the backs of the moving yearlings. + +"Don't, Billie," she said gently. + +Before he spoke again he thought over her advice. He knew he had his +answer. But he had to go through with it now. + +"I reckoned it would be that way. I'm nothin' but a rough vaquero. Whyfor +should you like me?" + +"Oh, but I do!" she cried impulsively. "I like you a great deal. You're +one of the best men I know--brave and good and modest. It isn't that; +Billie." + +"Is there--some one else? Or oughtn't I to ask that?" + +"No, there's nobody else. I'm awfully glad you like me. The girl that +gets you will be lucky. But I don't care about men that way. I want to +stay with dad and Jean." + +"Mebbe some day you may feel different about it." + +"Mebbe I will," she agreed. "Anyhow, I want you to stay friends with me. +You will, won't you?" + +"Sure. I'll be there just as long as you want me for a friend," he said +simply. + +She gave him her little gauntleted hand. They were close to a bend in the +draw. Soon they would be within sight of the house. + +"I'd say 'Yes' if I could, Billie. I'd rather it would be you than +anybody else. You won't feel bad, will you?" + +"Oh, that's all right." He smiled, and there was something about the +pluck of the eyes in the lean, tanned face that touched her. "I'm goin' +to keep right on carin' for my little pal even if I can't get what I +want." + +She had not yet fully emerged from her childhood. There was in her a +strong desire to comfort him somehow, to show by a mark of special favor +how high she held him in her esteem. + +"Would you--would you like to kiss me?" she asked simply. + +He felt a clamor of the blood and subdued it before he answered. It was +in accord with the charm she held for him that her frank generosity +enhanced his respect for her. If she gave a royal gift it was out of the +truth of her heart. + +Without need of words she read acceptance in his eyes and leaned toward +him in the saddle. Their lips met. + +"You're the first--except dad and Jean," she told him. + +The feeling in his primitive heart he could not have analyzed. He did not +know that his soul was moved to some such consecration as that of a young +knight taking his vow of service, though he was aware that all the good +in him leaped to instant response in her presence, that by some strange +spiritual alchemy he had passed through a refining process. + +"I'm comin' back to see you some day. Mebbe you'll feel different then," +he said. + +"I might," she admitted. + +They rounded the bend. Clanton, on horseback, caught sight of them. He +waved his hat and cantered forward. + +"Say, Billie, how much bacon do you reckon we need to take with us?" + +In front of the house Pauline slipped from her horse and left them +discussing the commissary. + + + + +Chapter VII + +On the Trail + + +The convalescents rode away into a desert green with spring. The fragrant +chaparral thickets were bursting into flower. Spanish bayonets studded +the plains. Everywhere about them was the promise of a new life not yet +burnt by hot summer suns to a crisp. + +During the day they ran into a swamp country and crossed a bayou where +cypress knees and blue gums showed fantastic in the eerie gloom of the +stagnant water. From this they emerged to a more wooded region and made +an early camp on the edge of a grove of ash trees bordering a small +stream where pecans grew thick. + +Shortly after daybreak they were jogging on at a walk-trot, the road gait +of the Southwest, into the treeless country of the prairie. They nooned +at an arroyo seco, and after they had eaten took a siesta during the heat +of the day. Night brought with it a thunderstorm and they took refuge in +a Mexican hut built of palisades and roofed with grass sod. A widow lived +alone in the jacal, but she made them welcome to the best she had. The +young men slept in a corner of the hut on a dry cowskin spread upon the +mud floor, their saddles for pillows and their blankets rolled about +them. + +While she was cooking their breakfast, Prince noticed the tears rolling +down her cheeks. She was a comely young woman and he asked her gallantly +in the bronco Spanish of the border if there was anything he could do to +relieve her distress. + +She shook her head mournfully. "No, senor," she answered in her native +tongue. "Only time can do that. I mourn my husband. He was a drunken +ne'er-do-well, but he was my man. So I mourn a fitting period. He died in +that corner of the room where you slept." + +"Indeed! When?" asked Billie politely. + +"Ten days ago. Of smallpox." + +The young men never ate that breakfast. They fled into the sunlight and +put many hurried miles between them and their amazed hostess. At the +first stream they stripped, bathed, washed their clothes, dipped the +saddles, and lay nude in the warm sand until their wearing apparel was +dry. + +For many days they joked each other about that headlong flight, but +underneath their gayety was a dread which persisted. + +"I'm like Dona Isabel with her grief. Only time can heal me of that scare +she threw into Billie Prince," the owner of that name confessed. + +"Me too," assented Clanton, helping himself to pinole. "I'll bet I lost a +year's growth, and me small at that." + +Prince had been in the employ of Webb for three years. During the long +hours when they rode side by side he told his companion much about the +Flying V Y outfit and its owner. + +"He's a straight-up man, Homer Webb is. His word is good all over Texas. +He'll sure do to take along," said Billie by way of recommendation. + +"And Joe Yankie--does he stack up A 1 too?" asked the boy dryly. + +"I never liked Joe. It ain't only that he'll run a sandy on you if he can +or that he's always ridin' any one that will stand to be picked on. Joe's +sure a bully. But then he's game enough, too, for that matter. I've seen +him fight like a pack of catamounts. Outside of that I've got a hunch +that he's crooked as a dog's hind leg. Mebbe I'm wrong, I'm tellin' you +how he strikes me. If I was Homer Webb, right now when trouble is comin' +up with the Snaith-McRobert outfit, I'd feel some dubious about Joe. He's +a sulky, revengeful brute, an' the old man has pulled him up with a tight +rein more'n once." + +"What do you mean--trouble with the Snaith-McRobert outfit?" + +"That's a long story. The bad feelin' started soon after the war when +Snaith an' the old man were brandin' mavericks. It kind of smouldered +along for a while, then broke out again when both of them began to bid +on Government beef contracts. There's been some shootin' back an' forth +an' there's liable to be a whole lot more. The Lazy S M--that's the +Snaith-McRobert brand--claims the whole Pecos country by priority. The +old man ain't recognizin' any such fool title. He's got more 'n thirty +thousand head of cattle there an' he'll fight for the grass if he has to. +O' course there's plenty of room for everybody if it wasn't for the beef +contracts an' the general bad feelin'." + +"Don't you reckon it will be settled peaceably? They'll get together an' +talk it over like reasonable folks." + +Billie shook his head. "The Lazy S M are bringin' in a lot of bad men +from Texas an' the Strip. Some of our boys ain't exactly gun-shy either. +One of these days there's sure goin' to be sudden trouble." + +"I'm no gunman," protested Clanton indignantly. "I hired out to the +old man to punch cows. Whyfor should I take any chances with the +Snaith-McRobert outfit when I ain't got a thing in the world against +them?" + +"No, you're no gunman," grinned his friend in amiable derision. +"Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em is a quiet little Sunday-go-to-meetin' kid. It was +kinder by accident that he bumped off four Apaches an' a halfbreed the +other day." + +"Now don't you blame me for that, Billie. You was hell-bent on goin' into +the Roubideau place an' I trailed along. When you got yore pill in the +laig you made me ride up the gulch alone. I claim I wasn't to blame for +them Mescaleros. I wasn't either." + +Prince had made his prophecy about the coming trouble lightly. He could +not guess that the most terrible feud in the history of the West was to +spring out of the quarrel between Snaith and Webb, a border war so grim +and deadly that within three years more than a hundred lusty men were to +fall in battle and from assassination. It would have amazed him to know +that the bullet which laid low the renegade in Shoot-a-Buck Canon had set +the spark to the evil passions which resulted in what came to be called +the Washington County War. Least of all could he tell that the girl-faced +boy riding beside him was to become the best-known character of all the +desperate ones engaged in the trouble. + + + + +Chapter VIII + +The Fight + + +Half a dozen cowboys cantered up the main street of Los Portales in a +cloud of dust. One of them, older than the rest, let out the wild yell he +had known in the days when he rode with Quantrell's guerrillas on the +infamous raids of that bandit. A second flung into the blue sky three +rapid revolver shots. Plainly they were advertising the fact that they +had come to paint the town red and did not care who knew it. + +The riders pulled up abruptly in front of Tolleson's Gaming Palace & +Saloon, swung from their horses, and trailed with jingling spurs into +that oasis of refreshment. Each of them carried in his hand a rope. The +other end of the rawhide was tied to the horn of a saddle. + +A heavy-set, bow-legged man led the procession to the bar. He straddled +forward with a swagger. The bartender was busy dusting his stock. Before +the man had a chance to turn, the butt of a revolver hammered the +counter. + +"Get busy here! Set 'em up, Mike. And jump!" snarled the heavy man. + +The barkeeper took one look at him and filed no demurrer. "Bad man" was +writ on every line of the sullen, dissipated face of the bully. It was a +safe bet that he was used to having his own way, or failing that was +ready to fight at the drop of the hat. + +Swiftly the drinks were prepared. + +"Here 'show!" + +"How!" + +Every glass was tilted and emptied. + +It was high noon by the sun and Tolleson's was practically deserted. No +devotees sat round the faro, roulette, and keno tables. The dealers were +asleep in bed after their labors. So too were the dance girls. The poker +rooms upstairs held only the stale odor of tobacco and whiskey. Except +for a sleepy negro roustabout attendant and two young fellows at a table +well back from the bar, the cowboys had the big hall all to themselves. + +The bay was near the front of the barnlike room and to the right. To the +left, along the wall, were small tables. Farther back were those used for +gaming. In the rear one corner of the floor held a rostrum with seats for +musicians. The center of the hall was kept clear for dancing. Three steps +led to a door halfway back on the left-hand side of the building. They +communicated with an outer stairway by means of which one could reach the +poker rooms. + +The older of the two young men at the table nodded toward the roisterers +and murmured information. "Some of the Snaith-McRobert crowd." + +His companion was seated with his back to the bar. He had riot turned his +head to look at those lined up in front of the mirrors for drinks, but a +curious change had come over him. The relaxed body had grown rigid. No +longer was he lounging against the back of his chair. From his eyes the +laughter had been wiped out, as a wet sponge obliterates writing on a +slate. All his forces were gathered as if for instant action. He was +tense as a coiled spring. His friend noticed that the boy was listening +intently, every faculty concentrated at attention. + +A man leaning against the other end of the bar was speaking. He had a +shock of long red hair and a squint to his eyes. + +"Sure you're right. A bunch of Webb's gunmen got Ranse--caught him out +alone and riddled him. When Webb drove through here two days ago with +a herd, his killers bragged of it. Ask Harsha up at the Buffalo Corral if +youse don't believe me. Sure as hell's hot we got to go on the war-path. +Here, you Mike! Set 'em up again." + +The boy at the table had drawn back his lips so that the canine teeth +stood out like tusks. There was something wolfish about the face, from +which all the color had been driven. It expressed something so deadly, so +menacing, that the young man across from him felt a shock almost of fear. +"We'd better get out of here," he said, glancing toward the group near +the front door. + +The other young man did not answer, but he made no move to leave. He was +still taking in every syllable of what the drinkers were saying. + +The ex-guerrilla was talking. "Tha's sure sayin' something, Hugh. There +ain't room in New Mexico for Webb's outfit an' ours too." + +"Better go slow, boys," advised another. He was a thick-set man in the +late thirties, tight-lipped and heavy-jawed. His eyes were set so close +together that it gave him a sinister expression. "Talkin' don't get us +anywhere. If we're goin' to sit in a game with Homer Webb an' his +punchers we got to play our hand close." + +"Buck Sanders, segundo of the Lazy S M ranches," explained again the +young man at the table in a low voice. "Say, kid, let's beat it while +the goin' is good." + +The big bow-legged man answered the foreman. "You're right, Buck. So's +Hugh. So's the old rebel. I'm jus' servin' notice that no bunch of +shorthorn punchers can kill a brother of mine an' get away with it. +Un'erstand? I'll meet up with them some day an' I'll sure fog 'em to a +fare-you-well." He interlarded his speech with oaths and foul language. + +"I'll bet you do, Dave," chipped in the man next him, who had had a +run-in with the Texas Rangers and was on the outskirts of civilization +because the Lone Star State did not suit his health. "I would certainly +hate to be one of them when yore old six-gun begins to pop. It sure will +be Glory-hallelujah for some one." + +Dave Roush ordered another drink on the strength of the Texan's +admiration. "Mind, I don't say Ranse wasn't a good man. Mebbe I'm a +leetle mite better 'n him with a hogleg. Mebbe--" + +"Ranse was good with a revolver all right, but sho! you make him look +like a plugged nickel when you go to makin' smoke, Dave," interrupted the +toady. + +"Well, mebbe I do. Say I do. I ain't yet met up with a man can beat me +when I'm right. But at that Ranse was a mighty good man. They bushwhacked +him, I'll bet a stack of blues. I aim to git busy soon as I find out who +done it." + +The red-headed man raised his voice a trifle. "Say, you kid--there at the +table--come here an' hold these ropes! See you don't let the hawses at +the other end of 'em git away!" + +Slowly the boy turned, pushing his chair round so that he half-faced the +group before the bar. He neither rose nor answered. + +"Cayn't you-all hear?" demanded the man with the shock of unkempt, red +hair. + +"I hear, but I'm not comin' right away. When I do, you'll wish I hadn't." + +If a bomb had exploded at his feet Hugh Roush could not have been more +surprised. He was a big, rough man, muscular and sinewy, and he had been +the victor of many a rough-and-tumble fight. On account of his reputation +for quarrelsomeness men chose their words carefully when they spoke to +him. That this little fellow with the smooth, girlish face and the small, +almost womanish hands and feet should defy him was hard to believe. + +"Come a-runnin', kid, or I'll whale the life out of you!" he roared. + +"You didn't get me right," answered the boy in a low, clear voice. "I'm +not comin' till I get ready, Hugh Roush." + +The wolf snap of the boy's jaw, the cold glitter in his eyes, might have +warned Roush and perhaps did. He wondered, too, how this stranger knew +his name so well. + +"Where are you from?" he demanded. + +"From anywhere but here," + +"Meanin' that you're here to stay?" + +"Meanin' that I'm here to stay." + +"Even if I tell you to git out of the country?" + +"You won't be alive to tell me unless you talk right sudden." + +They watched each other, the man and the boy. Neither as yet made any +motion to draw his gun, the younger one because he was not ready, Roush +because he did not want to show any premature alarm before the men taking +in the scene. Nor could he yet convince himself, in spite of the +challenge that rang in the words of the boy, of serious danger from so +unlikely a source. + +Dave Roush had been watching the boy closely. A likeness to someone whom +he could not place stirred faintly his memory. + +"Who are you? What's yore name?" he snapped out. + +The boy had risen from the chair. His hand rested on his hip as if +casually. But Dave had observed the sureness of his motions and he +accepted nothing as of chance. The experience of Roush was that a gunman +lives longer if he is cautious. His fingers closed on the butt of the +revolver at his side. + +"My name is James Clanton." + +Roush let fall a surprised oath. "It's 'Lindy Clanton you look like! +You're her brother--the kid, Jimmie." + +"You've guessed it, Devil Dave." + +The eyes of the two crossed like rapiers. + +"Howcome you here? Whad you want?" asked Roush thickly. + +Already he had made up his mind to kill, but he wanted to choose his own +moment. The instinct of the killer is always to take his enemy at +advantage. Clanton, with that sixth sense which serves the fighter, read +his purpose as if he had printed it on a sign. + +"You know why I'm here--to stomp the life out of you an' yore brother for +what you done to my sister. I've listened to yore brags about what you +would do when you met up with them that killed Ranse Roush. Fine! Now +let's see you make good. I'm the man that ran him down an' put an end to +him. Go through, you four-flushin' coward! Come a-shootin' whenever +you're ready." + +The young Southerner had a definite motive in his jeering. He wanted to +drive his enemies to attack him before they could come at him from two +sides. + +"You--you killed Ranse?" + +"You heard me say it once." The eyes of the boy flashed for a moment to +the red-headed man. "Whyfor are you dodgin' back of the bar, Hugh +Roush? Ain't odds of two to one good enough for you--an' that one only a +kid--without you runnin' to cover like the coyote you are? Looks like +you'll soon be whinin' for me not to shoot, just like Ranse did." + +If any one had cared to notice, the colored roust-about might have been +seen at that moment vanishing out of the back door to a zone of safety. +He showed no evidence whatever of being sleepy. + +The silence that followed the words of the boy was broken by Quantrell's +old grayback. Dave Roush was a bad man--a killer. He had three notches on +his gun. Perhaps he had killed others before coming West. At any rate, he +was no fair match for this undersized boy. + +"He's a kid, Dave. You don't want to gun a kid. You, Clanton--whatever +you call yourself--light a shuck pronto--git out!" + +It is the habit of the killer to look for easy game. Out of the corner of +his eye the man who had betrayed 'Lindy Clanton saw that Hugh was edging +back of the bar and dragging out his gun. This boy could be killed safely +now, since they were two to one, both of them experts with the revolver. +To let him escape would be to live in constant danger for the future. + +"He's askin' for it, Reb. He's goin' to get it." + +Dave Roush pulled his gun, but before he could use it two shots rang out +almost simultaneously. The man at the corner of the bar had the +advantage. His revolver was in the clear before that of Clanton, but Jim +fired from the hip without apparent aim. The bullet was flung from the +barrel an imperceptible second before that of Roush. The gunman, hit in +the wrist of the right hand, gave a grunt and took shelter back of the +bar. + +The bystanders scurried for safety while explosion followed explosion. +Young Clanton, light-footed as a cat, side-stepped and danced about as +he fired. The first shot of the red-headed man had hit him and the shock +of it interfered with his accuracy. Hugh had disappeared, but above the +smoke the youngster still saw the cruel face of Devil Dave leering +triumphantly at him behind the pumping gun. + +The boy kept moving, so that his body did not offer a static target. He +concentrated his attention on Dave, throwing shot after shot at him. That +he would kill his enemy Clanton never had a doubt. It was firmly fixed in +his mind that he had been sent as the appointed executioner of the man. + +It was no surprise to Jim when the face of his sister's betrayer lurched +forward into the smoke. He heard Roush fall heavily to the floor and saw +the weapon hurled out of reach. The fellow lay limp and still. + +Clanton did not waste a second look at the fallen man. He knew that the +other Roush, crouched behind the bar, had been firing at him through the +woodwork. Now a bullet struck the wall back of his head. The red-headed +man had fired looking through a knot-hole. + +The boy's weapon covered a spot three inches above this. He fired +instantly. A splinter flew from a second hole just above the first. +Three long, noiseless strides brought Clanton to the end of the bar. The +red-headed man lay dead on the floor. The bullet had struck him just +above and between the eyes. + +"I reckon that ends the job." + +It was Jim's voice that said the words, though he hardly recognized it. +Overcome by a sudden nausea, he leaned against the bar for support. He +felt sick through and through. + + + + +Chapter IX + +Billie Stands Pat + + +Clanton came back out of the haze to find his friend's arm around his +waist, the sound of his strong, cheerful voice in his ears. + +"Steady, old fellow, steady. Where did they hit you, Jim?" + +"In the shoulder. I'm sick." + +Billie supported him to a chair and called to the bartender, who was +cautiously rising from a prone position behind the bar. "Bring a glass of +water, Mike." + +The wounded man drank the water, and presently the sickness passed. He +saw a little crowd gather. Some of them carried out the body of Hugh +Roush. They returned for that of his brother. + +"Dave ain't dead yet. He's still breathing," one of the men said. + +"Not dead!" exclaimed Clanton. "Did you say he wasn't dead?" + +"Now, don't you worry about that," cautioned Prince. "Looks to me like +you sure got him. Anyhow, it ain't your fault. You were that quiet and +game and cool. I never saw the beat." + +The admiration of his partner did not comfort Jim. He was suspiciously +near a breakdown. "Why didn't I take another crack at him when I had the +chance?" he whimpered. "I been waitin' all these years, an' now--" + +"I tell you he hasn't a chance in a thousand, Jim. You did the job +thorough. He's got his," + +Prince had been intending to say more, but he changed his mind. Half a +dozen men were coming toward them from the front door. Buck Sanders was +one of them, Quantrell's trooper another. Their manner looked like +business. + +Sanders was the spokesman. "You boys ride for the Flying V Y, don't you?" +he asked curtly. + +"We do," answered Billie, and his voice was just as cold. It had in it +the snap of a whiplash. + +"You came in here to pick trouble with us. Your pardner--Clanton, +whatever his name is--gave it out straight that he was goin' to kill +Roush." + +"He didn't mention you, did he?" + +"The Roush brothers were in our party. We ride for the Lazy S M. We don't +make distinctions." + +"Don't you? Listen," advised Prince. In five sentences he sketched the +cause of the trouble between Jim Clanton and the Roush brothers. "My +bunkie didn't kill any of the Roush clan because they worked for Snaith +and McRobert. He shot them for the reason I've just given you. That's his +business. It was a private feud of his own. You heard what was said +before the shootin' began," he concluded. + +"Tha's what you say. You'll tell us, too, that he got Ranse Roush in a +fair fight. But you've got to show us proof," Sanders said with a sneer. + +"I expect just now you'll have to take my word and his. I'll tell you +this. Ranse Roush was a renegade. He was ridin' with a bunch of bronco +bucks. They attacked the Roubideau place an' we rode--Jim an' I did--to +help Pierre an' his family. We drove the 'Paches off, but they picked up +Miss Pauline while she was out ridin' alone. We took after 'em. I got +wounded an' Jim here went up a gulch lickety-split to catch the red +devils. He got four 'Paches an' one hell-hound of a renegade. Is there a +white man here that blames him for it?" + +When all is said, the prince of deadly weapons at close range is the +human eye. Billie was standing beside his friend, one hand resting +lightly on his shoulder. The cowpuncher was as lithe and clean of build +as a mastiff, but it was the steady candor of his honest eye that spoke +most potently. + +"Naturally you tell a good story," retorted the foreman with dry +incredulity. "It's up to you to come through with an explanation of why +Webb's men have just gunned three of our friends. Your story doesn't make +any hit with me. I don't believe a word of it." + +"You can take it or let it alone. It goes as I've told it," Prince cut +back shortly. + +Another man spoke up. He was a tinhorn gambler of Los Portales and for +reasons of his own foregathered with the Snaith-McRobert faction. "Look +here, young fellow. You may or may not be in this thing deep. I'm willin' +to give you the benefit of the doubt if my friends are. I'd hate to see +you bumped off when you didn't do any of the killin'. All we want is +justice. This is a square town. When bad men go too far we plant 'em on +Boot Hill. Understand? Now you slide out of the back door, slap a saddle +on your bronc, an' hit the high spots out of here," + +"And Clanton?" asked Billie. + +"We'll attend to Clanton's case," + +A faint smile touched the sardonic face of Prince. "What did you ever see +me do to give you the notion that I was yellow, Bancock?" + +"This ain't your affair. You step aside an' let justice--" + +"If those that holler for justice loudest had it done to them there would +be a lot of squealin' outside of hogpens." + +"You won't take that offer, then?" + +"Not this year of our Lord, thank you." + +"You've had your chance. If you turn it down you're liable to go out of +here feet first." + +Not a muscle twitched in the lean, brown face of the young cowpuncher. +"Cut loose whenever you're ready." + +"Hold yore hawsses, friend," advised the ex-guerrilla, not unkindly. +"There's no occasion whatever for you to run on the rope. We are six to +two, countin' the kid, who's got about all he can carry for one day. +We're here askin' questions, an' it's reasonable for you to answer 'em." + +"I have answered 'em. I'll answer all you want to ask. But I'd think you +would feel cheap to come kickin' about that fight. My friend fought fair. +You know best whether your friends did. He took 'em at odds of two to +one, an' at that one of your gunmen hunted cover. What's troublin you, +anyhow? Didn't you have all the breaks? Do you want an open an' shut +cinch?" + +"You're quite a lawyer," replied Dumont, the man who found the climate of +Texas unhealthy. "I reckon it would take a good one to talk himself out +of the hole you're in." + +Billie looked at the man and Dumont decided that he did not have a +speaking part in the scene. He was willing to remain one of the mob. In +point of fact, after what he had seen in the last few minutes, he was not +at all anxious to force the issue to actual battle. A good strong bluff +would suit him a great deal better. Even odds of six to two were not +good enough considering the demonstration he had witnessed. + +"What is it you want? Another showdown?" asked Clanton unexpectedly. + +Quantrell's man laughed. "I never did see such a fire-eater." + +He turned to his companions. "I told you how it would be. We can't prove +a thing against the kid except that he was lookin' for a fight an' got +it. He played the hand that was dealt him an' he played it good. I reckon +we'll have to let him go this time, boys." + +"We'll make a mistake if we do," differed Sanders. + +"You'll make one if you don't," said Prince pointedly. + +He stood poised, every nerve and muscle set to a hair-trigger for swift +action. Of those facing him not one of the six but knew they would have +to pay the price before they could exact vengeance for the death of the +Roush brothers. + +"What's the use of beefing?" grumbled a one-armed puncher in the rear. +"They shot up three of our friends. What more do you want?" + +"Don't be in a hurry, Albeen," advised Billie. "It's easy to start +something. We all know you burn powder quick. You're a sure-enough bad +man. But I've got a hunch it's goin' to be your funeral as well as mine +if once the band begins to play." + +"That so?" replied Albeen with heavy sarcasm. "You talk like you was +holdin' a royal flush, my friend." + +"I'm holdin' a six-full an' Clanton has another. We're sittin' in +strong." + +Dumont proposed a compromise. "Why not just arrest 'em an' hold 'em at +Bluewater till we find whether their story is true?" + +"Bring a warrant along before you try that," Billie countered. "Think we +were born yesterday? No Lazy S M sheriff, judge, an' jury for me, if you +please." + +The old guerrilla nodded. "That's reasonable, too. We haven't got a leg +to stand on, boys. This young fellow's story may be true an' it may not. +All we know is what we've seen. Clanton here took a mighty slim chance of +comin' through alive when he tackled Dave an' Hugh Roush. I wouldn't have +give a chew of tobacco against a week's pay for it. He fought fair, +didn't he? Now he's come through I'll be doggoned if I want to jump on +him again." + +"You're too soft for this country, Reb," sneered Albeen. "Better go back +to Arkansas or wherever you come from." + +"When I get ready. You don't mean right away, Albeen, do you?" demanded +the old-timer sharply. + +"Well, don't hang around all day," said Prince, his eye full in that of +the foreman. "Make up your minds whether you want to jump one man an' a +wounded boy. If you don't mean business I'd like to have a doctor look at +my friend's shoulder." + +Sanders's eyes fell at last before the quiet steadiness of that gaze. +With an oath he turned on his heel and strode from the gambling-hall. His +party straggled morosely after him. The old raider lingered for a last +word. + +"Take a fool's advice, Prince. There's a gunbarrel road leads out of town +for the north. Hit it pronto. Stay with it till you come up with Webb's +herd. You won't see his dust any too soon." + +"I guess you're right, Reb," agreed Prince. + +"You know I'm right. Just now you've got the boys bluffed, but it isn't +going to last. They'll get busy lappin' up drinks. Quite a crowd of town +toughs will join 'em. By night they'll be all primed up for a lynching. +I'd spoil their party if I was you by bein' distant absentees." + +"Soon as I can get Jim's shoulder fixed up we'll be joggin' along if he's +able to travel," promised Billie. + +"Good enough. And I'd see he was able if it was me." + + + + +Chapter X + +Bud Proctor Lends a Hand + + +After the doctor had dressed the wounded shoulder he ordered Clanton to +go to bed at once and stay there. "What he needs is rest, proper food, +and sleep. See he gets them." + +"I'll try," said Billie dryly. "Sometimes a fellow can't sleep when he's +got a lead pill in him, doctor. Could you give me something to help him +forget the pain an' the fever?" + +The doctor made up some powders. "One every two hours till he gets to +sleep. I'll come and see him in the morning. You're at the Proctor House, +aren't you?" + +"Yes." + +"Is Roush goin' to live?" asked Jim. + +The professional man looked at the boy speculatively. He wondered whether +the young fellow was suffering qualms of conscience. Since he did not +believe in the indiscriminate shooting in vogue on the frontier, he was +willing this youngster should worry a bit. + +"Not one chance for him in a hundred," he replied brusquely. + +"That's good. I'd hate to have to do it all over again. Have you got the +makin's with you, Billie?" Clanton asked evenly. + +"I've got a plain and simple word for such killings," the doctor said, +flushing. "I find it in my Bible." + +"That's where my dad found it too, doctor." + +With which cryptic utterance Clanton led the way out of the office to the +hotel. + +Jimmie lay down dressed on the bed of their joint room while his friend +went down to the porch to announce to sundry loafers, from whom the news +would spread over town shortly, that Clanton had gone to sleep and was on +no account to be disturbed till morning. + +Later in the afternoon Billie might have been seen fixing a stirrup +leather for Bud Proctor, the fourteen-year-old heir of the hotel +proprietor. He and the youngster appeared to be having a bully time on +the porch, but it was noticeable that the cowpuncher, for all his manner +of casual carelessness, sat close to the wall in the angle of an L so +that nobody could approach him unobserved. + +In an admiring trance Bud had followed the two friends from the office of +the doctor. Now he was in the seventh heaven at being taken into +friendship by one of these heroes. At last he screwed up his courage to +refer to the affair at Tolleson's. + +"Say, Daniel Boone ain't got a thing on yore friend, has he? Jiminy, I'd +like to go with you both when you leave town." + +Billie spoke severely. "Get that notion right out of your haid, Bud. +You're goin' to stay right here at home. I'll tell you another thing +while we're on that subject. Don't you get to thinkin' that killers are +fine people. They ain't. Some of 'em aren't even game. They take all +kinds of advantage an' they're a cruel, cold-blooded lot. Never forget +that. I'm not talkin' about Jim Clanton, understand. He did what he +thought he had to do. I don't say he was right. I don't say he was wrong. +But I will say that this country would be a whole lot better off if we'd +all put our guns away." + +Bud sniffed. "If you hadn't had yore guns this mornin' I'd like to know +where you'd 'a' been." + +"True enough. I can't travel unarmed because of Indians an' bad men. +What I say is that some day we'll all be brave enough to go without our +hog-legs. I'll be glad when that day comes." + +"An' when you two went up Escondido Canon after the Mescaleros that had +captured Miss Roubideau? I heard Dad Wrayburn tellin' all about it at +supper here one night. Well, what if you hadn't had any guns?" persisted +Bud. + +"That would have been tough luck," admitted Prince, holding up the +leather to examine his work. "Learn to shoot if you like, Bud, but +remember that guns aren't made to kill folks with. They're for buffaloes +an' antelope an' coyotes." + +"Didn't you ever kill any one?" + +"Haven't you had any bringin' up?" Billie wanted to know indignantly +"I've a good mind to put you across my knee an' whale you with this +leather. I've a notion to quit you here an' now. Don't you know better +than to ask such questions?" + +"It--it slipped out," whimpered Bud. "I'll never do it again." + +"See you don't. Now I'm goin' to give you a chance to make good with me +an' my friend, Bud. Can you keep a secret?" + +The eyes of the boy began to shine. "Crickey. You just try me, Mr. +Prince." + +"All right. I will. But first I must know that you are our friend." + +"Cross my heart an' hope to die. Honest, I am." + +"I believe you, Bud. Well, the Snaith-McRobert outfit intend to lynch me +an' my friend to-night." + +The face of the boy became all eyes. He was too astonished to speak. + +"Our only chance is to get out of town. Jim is supposed to be so bad I +can't move him. But if you can find an' saddle horses for us we'll slip +out the back door at dusk an' make our get-away. Do you think you can get +us horses an' some food without tellin' anybody what for?" asked the +cowboy. + +"I'll get yore own horses from the corral." + +"No. That won't do. If you saddled them, that would arouse suspicion at +once. You must bring two horses an' tie 'em to the back fence just as if +you were goin' ridin' yourself. Then we'll take 'em when you come into +the house. Make the tie with a slip knot. We may be in a hurry." + +"Gee! This beats 'Hal Hiccup, the Boy Demon,'" crowed Bud, referring to a +famous hero of Nickel Library fame. "I'll sure get you horses all right." + +"I'll make arrangements to have the horses sent back. Bring 'em round +just as it begins to get dark an' whistle a bar of 'Yankee Doodle' when +you get here. Now cut your stick, Bud. Don't be seen near me any more." + +The boy decamped. His face, unable to conceal his excitement at this +blessed adventure which had fallen from heaven upon him, was trying to +say "Golly!" without the use of words. + +During the next hour or two Bud was a pest. Twenty times he asked +different men mysteriously what o'clock it was. When he was sent to the +store for pickles he brought back canned tomatoes. Set to weeding onions, +he pulled up weeds and vegetables impartially. A hundred times he cast a +longing glance at the westering sun. + +So impatient was he that he could not quite wait till dusk. He slipped +around to the Elephant Corral by a back way and picked out two horses +that suited him. Then he went boldly to the owner of the stable. + +"Mr. Sanders sent me to bring to him that sorrel and the white-foot bay. +Said you'd know his saddle. It doesn't matter which of the other saddles +you use." + +Ten minutes later Bud was walking through the back yard of the hotel +whistling shrilly "Yankee Doodle." It happened that his father was an +ex-Confederate and "Dixie" was more to the boy's taste, but he enjoyed +the flavor of the camouflage he was employing. It fitted into his new +role of Bud Proctor, Scout of the Pecos. + +The fugitives slipped down the back stairway of the Proctor House and +into the garden. In another moment they were astride and moving out to +the sparsely settled suburbs of town. + +"Did you notice the brand on the horse you're ridin', Jim?" asked Prince +with a grin. + +"Same brand's on your bay, Billie--the Lazy S M. Did you tell that kid to +steal us two horses?" + +"No, but you've said it. I'm on the bronc Sanders rides, and you an' I +are horse-thieves now as well as killers. This certainly gets us in bad." + +"I've a notion to turn back yet," said Jim, with the irritability of a +sick man. "How in Mexico did he happen to light on Snaith-McRobert stock? +Looks like he might have found somethin' else for us." + +"Bud has too much imagination," admitted Prince ruefully. "I'd bet a +stack of blues he picked these hawsses on purpose--probably thought it +would be a great joke on Sanders an' his crew." + +"Well, I don't like it. They've got us where they want us now." + +Billie did not like it either. To kill a man on the frontier then in fair +fight was a misdemeanor. To steal a horse was a capital offense. Many a +bronco thief ended his life at the end of a rope in the hands of +respectable citizens who had in the way of business snuffed out the lives +of other respectable citizens. Both of the Flying VY riders knew that if +they were caught with the stock, it would be of no avail with Sanders to +plead that they had no intention of stealing. Possession would be _prima +facie_ evidence of guilt. + +"It's too late to go back now," Prince decided. + +"We'll travel night an' day till we reach the old man an' have him send +the bones back. I hate to do it, but we have no choice. Anyhow, we might +as well be hanged for stealin' a horse as for anything else." + +They topped a hill and came face to face with a rider traveling town +ward. His gaze took in the animals carrying the fugitives and jumped to +the face of Billie. In the eyes of the man was an expression blended of +suspicion and surprise. He passed with a nod and a surly "'Evenin'." + +"Fine luck we're havin', Billie," commented his friend with a little +laugh. "I give Sanders twenty minutes to be on our trail." + + + + +Chapter XI + +The Fugitives + + +Through the gathering darkness Prince watched the figure of his companion +droop. The slim, lithe body sagged and the shoulders were heavy with +exhaustion. Both small hands clung to the pommel of the saddle. It took +no prophet to see that in his present condition the wounded man would +never travel the gun-barrel road as far as the dust of the Flying V Y +herd. Even by easy stages he could not do it, and with pursuit thundering +at their heels the ride would be a cruel, grilling one. + +"How about pullin' a little strategy on Sanders, Jim? Instead of hittin' +the long trail, let's circle back around the town, strike the river, make +camp, an' lie low in the chaparral. Does that listen good to you?" + +Young Clanton looked at his friend suspiciously. The younger man was +fagged out and in a good deal of pain. The jolting of the pony's +movements jarred the bandages on the wound. Already his fever was high +and he had moments of light-headedness. He knew that his partner was +proposing to jeopardize his own chances of escape in order to take care +of him. + +"No, sir. We'll keep goin' right ahead," he said irritably. "Think I'm a +quitter? Think I'm goin' to lie down on you?" + +"Would I be likely to think that?" asked Billie gently. "What I'm +thinking is that both of us would be better for a good night's rest. Why +not throw off an' camp in the darkness? While we're sleepin' Sanders an' +his posse will be ridin' the hearts out of their horses. It looks like +good business to me to let 'em go to it." + +"No," said Jim obstinately. "No. We'll keep ridin'." + +Prince knew that the other understood what he was trying to do, and that +his pride--and perhaps something better than pride--would not accept +such a sacrifice. Billie said no more, but his mind still wrestled with +the problem before him. It was impossible, while his comrade was so badly +hurt, to hold a pace that would keep them ahead of the Lazy S M riders. +Already Sanders must be gaining on them, and to make matters worse +Clanton drew down to a walk. His high-pitched voice and disjointed +expressions told the older man that he was at the beginning of delirium. + +"What do you mean, standing there and grinnin' at me like a wolf, Dave +Roush? I killed you once. You're dead an' buried. How come you alive +again? Then shoot, both of you! Come out from cover, Hugh Roush." He +stopped, and took the matter up from another angle. "You're a liar, you +coyote. I'm not runnin' away. Two to one ... two to one ... I'll ride +back an' gun you both. I'm a-comin' now." + +He pulled up and turned his horse. Faintly there came to Billie the +thudding of horses' hoofs. In five minutes it would be too late to save +either the sick man or himself. It never occurred to him for a moment to +desert Clanton. Somehow he must get him into the chaparral, and without +an instant's delay. His mind seized on the delirious fancy of the young +fellow. + +"You're sure right, Jim," he said quietly. "I'd go an' gun them too. I'll +ride with you an' see fair play. They're out here in the brush. Come on." + +"No. They're back in town. Leave 'em to me. Don't you draw, Billie." + +"All right. But they're over here to our right. I saw 'em there. Come. +We'll sneak up on 'em so that they can't run when they hear you." + +Billie turned. He swung his horse into the mesquite. His heart was heavy +with anxiety. Would the wounded man accept his lead? Or would his +obstinacy prevail? + +"Here they are. Right ahead here," continued Prince. + +Followed a moment of suspense, then came the crashing of brush as Clanton +moved after him. + +"S-sh! Ride softly, Jim. We don't want 'em to hear us an' get away." + +"Tha's right. Tha's sure right. You said somethin' then, Billie. But +they'll not get away. Haven't I slept on their trail four years? They're +mine at last." + +Prince was drawing him farther from the road. But the danger was not yet +over. As the posse passed, some member of it might hear them, or young +Clanton might hear it and gallop out to the road under the impression he +was going to meet Dave Roush. Billie twisted in and out of the brush, +never for an instant letting his friend pull up. On a moving horse one +cannot hear so distinctly as on one standing still. + +At last Billie began to breathe more easily. The pursuers must have +passed before this. He could give his attention to the sick man. + +Jim was clutching desperately to the saddle-horn. The fever was gaining +on him and the delirium worse. He talked incessantly, sometimes +incoherently. From one subject to another he went, but always he came +back to Dave Roush and his brother. He dared them to stand up and fight. +He called on them to stop running, to wait for him. Then he trailed off +into a string of epithets usually ending in sobs of rage. + +The sickness of the young man tore the heart of his companion. Every +instinct of kindness urged him to stop, make up a bed for the wounded +boy, and let him rest from the agony of travel. But he dared not stop +yet. He had to keep going till they reached a place of temporary safety. + +With artful promises of immediate vengeance upon his enemies, by means of +taunts at him as a quitter, through urgent proddings that reached +momentarily the diseased mind, Prince kept him moving through the brush. +The sweat stood out on the white face of the young fellow shining ghastly +in the moonlight. + +After what seemed an interminable time they could see from a mesa the +lights of Los Portales. Billie left the town well to his right, skirted +the pastures on the outskirts, and struck the river four miles farther +down. + +While they were still a long way from it the boy collapsed completely and +slid from the saddle to which he had so long clung. His friend uncinched +and freed the sorrel, lifted the slack body to his own horse, and walked +beside the animal to steady the lurching figure. + +At the bank of the river he stopped and lifted the body to the ground. It +lay limp and slack where the cowpuncher set it down. Through the white +shoulder dressings a stain of red had soaked. For a moment Billie was +shaken by the fear that the Arizonian might be dead, but he rejected it +as not at all likely. Yet when he held his hand against the heart of the +wounded man he was not sure that he could detect a beating. + +From the river he brought water in his hat and splashed it into the white +face. He undid the shoulder bandages, soaked them in cold water, and +rebound the wound. Between the clenched teeth he forced a few drops of +whiskey from his flask. + +The eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. + +"Where are we, Billie?" the sick man asked; then added: "How did we get +away from 'em?" + +"Went into the brush an' doubled back to the river. I'm goin' to hunt a +place where we can lie hid for a few days." + +"Oh, I'll be all right by mornin'. Did I fall off my hawss?" + +"Yes. I had to turn your sorrel loose. Soon as I've picked a permanent +camp I'll have to let mine go too. Some one would be sure to stumble on +it an' go to guessin'." + +After a moment the sick man spoke quietly. "You're a good pal, Billie. I +haven't known many men would take a long chance like this for a fellow +they hadn't met a month ago." + +"I'm not forgettin' how you rode up Escondido when I asked you to go." + +"You got a lot of sabe, too. You don't go bullin' Into a fight when +there's a good reason for stayin' out. At Tolleson's if you had drawn +yore gun when the shootin' was on, the whole Lazy S M would have pitched +in an' riddled us both. They kept out because you did. That gave me a +chance to come through alive." + +The Texan registered embarrassment with a grin. "Yes, I'm the boy wonder +of the Brazos," he admitted. + +A faint, unexpected gleam of humor lay for a moment in the eyes of the +sick man. "I got you where the wool's short, Billie. I can throw bouquets +at you an' you got to stand hitched because I'm sick. Doc says to humor +me. If I holler for the moon you climb up an' get it." + +"I'll rope it for you," assented the cowpuncher. "How's the game +shoulder?" + +"Hurts like Heligoland. Say, ain't I due for one of them sleep powders +Doc fixed up so careful?" + +His companion gave him one, after which he folded his coat and put it +under the head of Clanton, Over him he threw a saddle blanket. + +"Back soon," he promised. + +The sick man nodded weakly. + +Billie swung to the saddle and turned down the river. Unfortunately the +country here was an open one. Along the sandy shore of the stream the +mesquite was thin. There was no soapweed and very little cactus. The +terrain of the hill country farther back was rougher, more full of +pockets, and covered with heavier brush. But it was necessary for the +fugitives to remain close to water. + +What Prince hoped to find was some sort of cave or overhanging ledge of +shale under which they could lie hidden until Jim's strength returned +sufficiently to permit of travel. The problem would be at best a +difficult one. They had little food, scarce dared light a fire, and +Clanton was in no condition to stand exposure in case the weather grew +bad. Even if the boy weathered the sickness, it would not be possible for +him to walk hundreds of miles in his weakened condition. But this was a +matter which did not press for an answer. Billie intended to cross no +bridges until he came to them. Just now he must focus his mind on keeping +the wounded man alive and out of the hands of his enemies. + +Beyond a bend he came upon a jutting bank that for lack of better might +serve his purpose. He could scoop out a cave in which his partner might +lie protected from the hot midday sun. If he filled the mouth with tumble +weeds during the day they might escape observation for a time. + +When the Texan returned to his friend, he found him in restless slumber. +He tossed to and fro, muttering snatches of incoherent talk. The wound +seemed to pain him even in his sleep, for he moved impatiently as though +trying to throw off some weight lying heavy upon it. + +But when he awoke his mind was apparently clear. He met Billie's anxious +look with a faint, white-lipped smile. To his friend the young fellow had +the signs of a very sick man. It was a debatable question whether to risk +moving him now or take the almost hopeless chance of escaping detection +where they were. + +Prince put the decision on Jim himself. The answer came feebly, but +promptly. + +"Sure, move me. What's one little--bullet in the shoulder, Billie? Gimme +some sleep--an' I'll be up an' kickin'." + +Yet the older man noticed that his white lips could scarcely find +strength to make the indomitable boast. + +Very gently Billie lifted the wounded man and put him on the back of the +cowpony. He held him there and guided the animal through the sand to +the bend. Clanton hung on with clenched teeth, calling on the last ounce +of power in his exhausted body with his strong will. + +"Just a hundred yards more," urged the walking man as they rounded the +bend. "We're 'most there now." + +He lifted the slack body down and put it in the sand. The hands of the +boy were ice cold. The sap of life was low in him. Prince covered him +with the blankets and his coat. He gave him a sup or two of whiskey, then +gathered buffalo chips and made a fire in which he heated some large +rocks. These he tucked in beneath the blankets beside the shivering body. +Slowly the heat warmed the invalid. After a time he fell once more into +troubled sleep. + +Billie drove his horse away and pelted it with stones to a trot. He could +not keep it with him without risking discovery, but he was almost as much +afraid that its arrival in Los Portales might start a search for the +hidden fugitives. There was always a chance, of course, that the bay +would stop to graze on the plains and not be found for a day or two. + +The rest of the night the Texan put in digging a cave with a piece of +slaty shale. The clay of the bank was soft and he made fair progress. The +dirt he scooped out was thrown by him into the river. + + + + +Chapter XII + +The Good Samaritan + + +A girl astride a buckskin pony rode down to the river to water her mount. +She carried across the pommel of her saddle a small rifle. Hanging from +the cantle strings was a wild turkey she had shot. + +It was getting along toward evening and she was on her way back to Los +Portales. The girl was a lover of the outdoors and she had been hunting +alone. In the clear, amber light of afternoon the smoke of the town rose +high into the sky, though the trading post itself could not be seen until +she rounded the bend. + +As her horse drank, a strange thing happened. At a point directly +opposite her a bunch of tumble weeds had gathered against the bank of the +shrunken stream. Something agitated them, and from among the brush the +head and shoulders of a man projected. + +Without an instant of delay the girl slipped from the pony and led it +behind a clump of mesquite. Through this she peered intently, watching +every move of the man, who had by this time come out into the open. He +went down to the river, filled his hat with water, and disappeared among +the tumble weeds, gathering them closely to conceal the entrance of his +cave. + +The young woman remounted, rode downstream an eighth of a mile, splashed +through to the other side, and tied her pony to a stunted live-oak. Rifle +in hand she crept cautiously along the bank and came to a halt behind a +cottonwood thirty yards from the cave. Here she waited, patiently, +silently, as many a time she had done while stalking the game she was +used to hunting. + +The minutes passed, ran into an hour. The westering sun slid down close +to the horizon's edge. Still the girl held her vigil. At last the brush +moved once more and the man reappeared. His glance swept the landscape, +the river-bank, the opposite shore. Apparently satisfied, he came out +from his hiding-place, and began to gather brush for a fire. + +He was stooped, his back toward her, when the voice of the girl startled +him to rigidity. + +"Hands in the air!" + +He did not at once obey. His head turned to see who this Amazon might be. + +"Can't you hear? Reach for the sky!" she ordered sharply. + +She had risen and stepped from behind the tree. He could see that she was +dark, of a full, fine figure, and that her steady black eyes watched him +without the least fear. The rifle in her hands covered him very steadily. + +His hands went up, but he could not keep a little, sardonic smile from +his face. The young woman lowered the rifle from her shoulder and moved +warily forward. + +"Lie down on the sand, face to the ground, hands outstretched!" came her +next command. + +Billie did as he was told. A little tug at his side gave notice to him +that she had deftly removed his revolver. + +"Sit up!" + +The cowpuncher sat up and took notice. Stars of excitement snapped in the +eyes of this very competent young woman. The color beat warmly through +her dark skin. She was very well worth looking at. + +"What's your name?" she demanded. + +"My road brand is Billie Prince," he answered. + +"Thought so. Where's the other man?" + +He nodded toward the cave. + +"Call him out," she said curtly. + +"I hate to wake him. He's been wounded. All day he's been in a high fever +and he's asleep at last." + +For the first time her confidence seemed a little shaken. She hesitated. +"Is he badly hurt?" + +"He'd get well if he could have proper attention, but a wounded man can't +stand to be jolted around the way he's been since he was shot." + +"Do you mean that you think he's going to die?" + +"I don't know." After a moment he added: "He's mighty sick." + +"He ought never to have left town." + +"Oughtn't he?" said Prince dryly. "If you'll inquire you'll find we had a +good reason for leavin'." + +"Well, you're going to have another good reason for going back," she told +him crisply. "I'll send a buckboard for him." + +"Aren't you takin' a heap of trouble on our account?" he inquired +ironically. + +"That's my business." + +"And mine. Are you the sheriff of Washington County, ma'am?" + +A pulse of anger beat in her throat. Her long-lashed eyes flashed +imperiously at him. "It doesn't matter who I am. You'll march to town in +front of my horse." + +"Maybe so." + +The voice of the sick man began to babble querulously. Both of those +outside listened. + +"He's awake," the girl said. "Bring him out here and let me see him." + +Billie had an instinct that sometimes served him well. He rose promptly. + +"Para sirvir usted" ("At your service"), he murmured. + +"Don't try to start anything. I'll have you covered every second." + +"I believe you. It won't be necessary to demonstrate, ma'am." + +The cowpuncher carried his friend out from the cave and put him down +gently in the sand. + +"Why, he's only a boy!" she cried in surprise. + +"He was man enough to go up against half a dozen 'Paches alone to save +Pauline Roubideau," Billie said simply. + +She looked up with quick interest. "I've heard that story. Is it true?" + +"It's true. And he was man enough to fight it out to a finish against two +bad men yesterday." + +"But he can't be more than eighteen." She watched for a moment the flush +of fever in his soft cheeks. "Did he really kill Dave and Hugh Roush? +Or was it you?" + +"He did it." + +"I hate a killer!" she blazed unexpectedly. + +"Does he look like a killer?" asked Prince gently. + +"No, he doesn't. That makes it worse." + +"Did you know that Dave Roush ruined his sister's life in a fiendish +way?" + +"I expect there's another side to that story," she retorted. + +"This boy was fourteen at the time. His father swore him to vengeance an' +Jim followed his enemies for years. He never had a doubt but that he +was doin' right." + +She put her rifle down impulsively. "Why don't you keep his face sponged? +Bring me water." + +The Texan put his hat into requisition again for a bucket. With her +handkerchief the girl sponged the face and the hands. The cold water +stopped for a moment the delirious muttering of the young man. But the +big eyes that stared into hers did not associate his nurse with the +present. + +"I done remembered you, 'Lindy, like I promised. I'm a-followin' them +scalawags yet," he murmured. + +"His sister's name was Melindy," explained Prince. + +The girl nodded. She was rubbing gently the boy's wrist with her wet +handkerchief. + +"It's getting dark," she told Billie in her sharp, decisive way. "Get +your fire lit--a big one. I've got some cooking to do." + +Further orders were waiting for him as soon as he had the camp-fire +going. "You'll find my horse tied to a live-oak down the river a bit. +Bring it up." + +Billie smiled as he moved away into the darkness. This imperious girl +belonged, of course, in the camp of the enemy. She had held him up with +the intention of driving them back to town before her in triumph. But she +was, after all, a very tender-hearted foe to a man stricken with +sickness. It occurred to the Texan that through her might lie a way of +salvation for them both. + +Until he saw the turkey the cowpuncher wondered what cooking she could +have in mind, but while he cantered back through the sand he guessed +what she meant to do. + +"Draw the turkey. Don't pick it," she gave instructions. Her own hands +were busy trying to make her patient comfortable. + +After he had drawn the bird, which was a young, plump one, he made under +direction of the young woman a cement of mud. This he daubed in a +three-inch coating over the turkey, then prepared the fire to make of it +an oven. He covered the bird with ashes, raked live coals over these, and +piled upon the red-hot coals pinon knots and juniper boughs. + +"Keep your fire going till about two or three o'clock, then let it die +out. In the morning the turkey will be baked," the young Diana gave +assurance. + +The cowpuncher omitted to tell her that he had baked a dozen more or less +and knew all about it. + +She rose and drew on her gauntlets in a business-like manner. + +"I'm going home now. After the fever passes keep him warm and let him +sleep if he will." + +"Yes, ma'am," promised Billie with suspicious meekness. + +The girl looked at him sharply, as if she distrusted his humility. Was he +laughing at her? Did he dare to find amusement in her? + +"I haven't changed my mind about you. Folks that come to town and start +killing deserve all they get. But I'd look after a yellow dog if it was +sick," she said contemptuously, little devils of defiance in her eyes. + +"I'm not questionin' your motives, ma'am, so long as your actions are +friendly," + +"I haven't any use for any of Homer Webb's outfit. He's got no business +here. If he runs into trouble he has only himself to blame." + +"I'll mention to him that you said so." + +Picking up the rifle, she turned and walked to the horse. There was a +little devil-may-care touch to her walk, just as in her manner, that +suggested a girl spoiled by over-much indulgence. She was imperious, +high-spirited, full of courage and insolence, because her environment had +moulded her to independence. It was impossible for the young cow puncher +to help admiring the girl. + +"I'll be back," she called over her shoulder. + +The pony jumped to a canter at the touch of her Jaeel. She disappeared in +a gallop around the bend. + +Already the fever of the boy was beginning to pass. He shivered with the +chill of night. Billie wrapped around him his own coat, a linsey-woolen +one lined with yellow flannel. He packed him up in the two blankets and +heated stones for his feet and hands. Presently the boy fell into sound +sleep for the first time since he was wounded. He had slept before, but +always uneasily and restlessly. Now he did not mutter between clenched +teeth nor toss to and fro. + +His friend accepted it as a good omen. Since he had not slept a wink +himself for forty hours, he lay down before the fire and made himself +comfortable His eyes closed almost immediately. + + + + +Chapter XIII + +A Friendly Enemy + + +"Law sakes, Miss Bertie Lee, yo' suppah done been ready an hour. Hit sure +am discommodin' the way you go gallumphin' around. Don't you-all nevah +git tired?" + +Aunt Becky was large and black and bulgy. To say that she was fat fails +entirely of doing her justice. She overflowed from her clothes in waves +at all possible points. When she moved she waddled. + +Just now she was trying to be cross, but the smile of welcome on the +broad face would have its way. + +"Set down an' rest yo' weary bones, honey. I'll have yo' suppah dished up +in no time a-tall. Yore paw was axin' where is you awhile ago." + +"Where's dad?" asked Miss Bertie Lee Snaith carelessly as she flung her +gloves on a chair. + +"He done gone down to the store to see if anything been heerd o' them +vilyainous killers of Mr. Webb." + +When Bertie Lee returned from washing her hands and face and giving a +touch or two to her hair, she sat down and did justice to the fried +chicken and biscuits of Aunt Becky. She had had a long day of it and she +ate with the keen appetite of youth. + +Her father returned while she was still at the table. He was a big sandy +man dressed in a corduroy suit. He was broad of shoulder and his legs +were bowed. + +"Any news, dad?" she asked. + +"Not a thing, Lee. I reckon they've made their get-away. They must have +slipped off the road somewhere. The wounded one never could have traveled +all night. Maybe we'll git 'em yet." + +"What will you do with them, if you do?" + +"Hang 'em to a sour apple tree," answered Wallace Snaith promptly. + +His daughter made no comment. She knew that her father's resentment was +based on no abstract love of law and order. It had back of it no feeling +that crime had been committed or justice outraged. The frontier was in +its roistering youth, full of such effervescing spirits that life was the +cheapest thing it knew. Every few days some unfortunate was buried on +Boot Hill, a victim of his own inexpertness with the six-shooter. The +longhorned cattle of Texas were wearing broad trails to the north and the +northwest and such towns as Los Portales were on the boom. Chap-clad +punchers galloped through the streets at all hours of the day and +night letting out their joyous "Eee-yip-eee." The keys of Tolleson's and +half a dozen other gambling places had long since been lost, for the +doors were never closed to patrons. At games of chance the roof was the +limit, in the expressive phrase of the country. Guns cracked at the +slightest difference of opinion. It was bad form to use the word +"murder." The correct way to speak of the result of a disagreement was to +refer to it as "a killing." + +Law lay for every man in a holster on his own hip. Snaith recognized this +and accepted it. He was ready to "bend a gun" himself if occasion called +for it. What he objected to in this particular killing was the personal +affront to him. One of Webb's men had deliberately and defiantly killed +two of his riders when the town was full of his employees. The man had +walked into Tolleson's--a place which he, Snaith, practically owned +himself--and flung down the gauntlet to the whole Lazy S M outfit. It was +a flagrant insult and Wallace Snaith proposed to see that it was avenged. + +"I'm going duck-hunting to-morrow, dad," Lee told him. "I'll likely be up +before daylight, but I'll try not to disturb you. If you hear me +rummaging around in the pantry, you'll know what for." + +He grunted assent, full of the grievance that was rankling in his mind. +Lee came and went as she pleased. She was her own mistress and he made no +attempt to chaperon her activities. + +The light had not yet begun to sift into the sky next morning when Lee +dressed and tiptoed to the kitchen. She carried saddlebags with her and +into the capacious pockets went tea, coffee, flour, corn meal, a flask of +brandy, a plate of cookies, and a slab of bacon. An old frying-pan and a +small stew kettle joined the supplies; also a little package of "yerb" +medicine prepared by Aunt Becky as a specific for fevers. + +Lee walked through the silent, pre-dawn darkness to the stable and +saddled her pony, blanketing and cinching as deftly as her father could +have done it. With her she carried an extra blanket for the wounded man. + +The gray light of dawn was beginning to sift into the sky when she +reached the camp of the fugitives. Prince came forward to meet her. She +saw that the fire was now only a bed of coals from which no smoke would +rise to betray them. + +The girl swung from the saddle and gave a little jerk of her head toward +Clanton. + +"How is he?" + +"Slept like a log all night. Feels a heap better this mo'nin'. Wants to +know if he can't have somethin' to eat." + +"I killed a couple of prairie plover on the way. We'll make some soup for +him." + +The girl walked straight to her patient and looked down at him with +direct and searching eyes. She found no glaze of fever in the ones that +gazed back into hers. + +"Hungry, are you?" + +"I could eat a mail sack, ma'am." + +She stripped the gauntlets from her hands and set about making breakfast. +Jim watched her with alert interest. He was still weak, but life this +morning began to renew itself in him. The pain and the fever had gone and +left him at peace with a world just emerging from darkness into a rosily +flushed dawn. Not the least attractive feature of it was this stunning, +dark-eyed girl who was proving such a friendly enemy. + +Her manner to Billie was crisp and curt. She ordered him to fetch and +carry. Something in his slow drawl--some hint of hidden amusement in +his manner--struck a spark of resentment from her quick eye. But toward +Jim she was all kindness. No trouble was too much to take for his +comfort. If he had a whim it must be gratified. Prince was merely a +servant to wait upon him. + +The education of Jim Clanton was progressing. As he ate his plover broth +he could not keep his eyes from her. She was so full of vital life. The +color beat through her dark skin warm and rich. The abundant blue-black +hair, the flashing eyes, the fine poise of the head, the little jaunty +swagger of her, so wholly a matter of unconscious faith in her place in +the sun: all of these charmed and delighted him. He had never dreamed of +a girl of such spirit and fire. + +It was inevitable that both he and Billie should recall by contrast +another girl who had given them generously of her service not long since. +There were in the country then very few women of any kind. Certainly +within a radius of two hundred miles there was no other girl so popular +and so attractive as these two. Many a puncher would have been willing to +break an arm for the sake of such kindness as had been lavished upon +these boys. + +By sunup the three of them had finished breakfast. Billie put out the +fire and scattered the ashes in the river. He went into a committee of +ways and means with Lee Snaith just before she returned to town. + +"You can't stay here long. Some one is sure to stumble on you just as I +did. What plan have you to get away?" + +"If I could get our horses in three or four days mebbe Jim could make out +to ride a little at a time." + +"He couldn't--and you can't get your horses," she vetoed. + +"Then I'll have to leave him, steal another horse, and ride through to +Webb for help." + +"No. You mustn't leave him. I'll see if I can get a man to take a message +to your friends." + +A smile came out on his lean, strong face. "You're a good friend." + +"I'm no friend of yours," she flashed back. "But I won't have my father +spoiling the view by hanging you where I might see you when I ride." + +"You're Wallace Snaith's daughter, I reckon." + +"Yes. And no man that rides for Homer Webb can be a friend of mine." + +"Sorry. Anyhow, you can't keep me from being mighty grateful to my +littlest enemy." + +He did not intend to smile, but just a hint of it leaped to his eyes. She +flushed angrily, suspecting that he was mocking her, and swung her pony +toward town. + +On the way she shot a brace of ducks for the sake of appearances. The +country was a paradise for the hunter. On the river could be found great +numbers of ducks, geese, swans, and pelicans. Of quail and prairie +chicken there was no limit. Thousands of turkeys roosted in the timber +that bordered the streams. There were times when the noise of pigeons +returning to their night haunt was like thunder and the sight of them +almost hid the sky. Bands of antelope could be seen silhouetted against +the skyline. As for buffalo, numbers of them still ranged the plains, +though the day of their extinction was close at hand. No country in the +world's history ever offered such a field for the sportsman as the +Southwest did in the days of the first great cattle drives. + +Miss Bertie Lee dismounted at a store which bore the sign + +SNAITH & McROBERT +General Merchandise + +Though a large building, it was not one of the most recent in town. It +was what is known as a "dugout" in the West, a big cellar roofed over, +with side walls rising above the level of the ground. In a country where +timber was scarce and the railroad was not within two hundred miles, a +sod structure of this sort was the most practicable possible. + +The girl sauntered in and glanced carelessly about her. Two or three +chap-clad cowboys were lounging against the counter watching another buy +a suit of clothes. The wide-brimmed hats of all of them came off +instantly at sight of her. The frontier was rampantly lawless, but +nowhere in the world did a good woman meet with more unquestioning +respect. + +"What's this hyer garment?" asked the brick-red customer of the clerk, +holding up the waistcoat that went with the suit. + +"That's a vest," explained the salesman. "You wear it under the coat." + +"You don't say!" The vaquero examined the article curiously and +disdainfully. "I've heard tell of these didoes, but I never did see one +before. Well, I'll take this suit. Wrap it up. You keep the vest +proposition and give it to a tenderfoot." + +No cowpuncher ever wore a waistcoat. The local dealers of the Southwest +had been utterly unable to impress this fact upon the mind of the Eastern +manufacturer. The result was that every suit came in three parts, one of +which always remained upon the shelf of the store. Some of the supply +merchants had several thousand of these articles de luxe in their stock. +In later years they gave them away to Indians and Mexicans. + +"Do you know where Jack Goodheart is?" asked Lee of the nearest youth. + +"No, ma'am, but I'll go hunt him for you," answered the puncher promptly. + +"Thank you." + +Ten minutes later a bronzed rider swung down in front of the Snaith home. +Miss Bertie Lee was on the porch. + +"You sent for me," he said simply. + +"Do you want to do something for me?" + +"Try me." + +"Will you ride after Webb's outfit and tell him that two of his men are +in hiding on the river just below town. One of them is wounded and can't +sit a horse. So he'd better send a buckboard for him. Let Homer Webb know +that if dad or Sanders finds these men, the cottonwoods will be bearing a +new kind of fruit. Tell him to burn the wind getting here. The men are in +a cave on the left-hand side of the river going down. It is just below +the bend." + +Jack Goodheart did not ask her how she knew this or what difference it +made to her whether Webb rescued his riders or not. He said, "I'll be on +the road inside of twenty minutes." + +Goodheart was a splendid specimen of the frontiersman. He was the best +roper in the country, of proved gameness, popular, keen as an Italian +stiletto, and absolutely trustworthy. Since the first day he had seen her +Jack had been devoted to the service of Bertie Lee Snaith. No dog could +have been humbler or less critical of her shortcomings. The girl despised +his wooing, but she was forced to respect the man. As a lover she had no +use for Goodheart; as a friend she was always calling upon him. + +"I knew you'd go, Jack," she told him. + +"Yes, I'd lie down and make of myself a door-mat for you to trample on," +he retorted with a touch of self-contempt. "Would you like me to do it +now?" + +Lee looked at him in surprise. This was the first evidence he had ever +given that he resented the position in which he stood to her. + +"If you don't want to go I'll ask some one else," she replied. + +"Oh, I'll go." + +He turned and strode to his horse. For years he had been her faithful +cavalier and he knew he was no closer to his heart's desire than when he +began to serve. The first faint stirrings of rebellion were moving in +him. It was not that he blamed her in the least. She was scarcely +nineteen, the magnet for the eyes of all the unattached men in the +district. Was it reasonable to suppose that she would give her love to a +penniless puncher of twenty-eight, lank as a shad, with no recommendation +but honesty? None the less, Jack began to doubt whether eternal patience +was a virtue. + + + + +Chapter XIV + +The Gun-Barrel Road + + +Jack Goodheart followed the gun-barrel road into a desert green and +beautiful with vegetation. Now he passed a blooming azalea or a yucca +with clustering bellflowers. The prickly pear and the cat-claw clutched +at his chaps. The arrowweed and the soapweed were everywhere, as was also +the stunted creosote. The details were not lovely, but in the sunset +light of late afternoon the silvery sheen of the mesquite had its own +charm for the rider. + +Back of the saddle he carried a "hot roll" of blankets and supplies, for +he would have to camp out three or four nights. Flour, coffee, and a can +of tomatoes made the substance of his provisions. His rifle would bring +him all the meat he needed. The one he used was a seventy-three because +the bullets fired from it fitted the cylinder of his forty-four revolver. + +Solitude engulfed him. Once a mule deer stared at him in surprise from an +escarpment back of the mesa. A rattlesnake buzzed its ominous warning. + +He left the road to follow the broad trail made by the Flying V Y herd. A +horizon of deep purple marked the afterglow of sunset and preceded a +desert night of stars. Well into the evening he rode, then hobbled his +horse before he built a camp-fire. + +Darkness was still thick over the plains when he left the buffalo wallow +in which he had camped. All day he held a steady course northward till +the stars were out again. Late the next afternoon he struck the dust of +the drag in the ground swells of a more broken country. + +The drag-driver directed Goodheart to the left point. He found there two +men, One of them--Dad Wrayburn--he knew. The other was a man of sandy +complexion, hard-faced, and fishy of eye. + +"Whad you want?" the second demanded. + +"I want to see Webb." + +"Can't see him. He ain't here." + +"Where is he?" + +"He's ridden on to the Fort to make arrangements for receiving the herd," +answered the man sulkily. + +"Who's the big auger left?" + +"I'm the foreman, if that's what you mean?" + +"Well, I've come to tell you that two of yore men are hidin' in the +chaparral below Los Portales. There was trouble at Tolleson's. Two of the +Lazy S M men were gunned an' one of yours was wounded." + +"Which one was wounded?" + +"I heard his name was Clanton." + +"Suits me fine," grinned the foreman, showing two rows of broken, stained +teeth. "Hope the Lazy S M boys gunned him proper." + +Dad Wrayburn broke in softly. "Chicto, compadre!" ("Hush, partner!") He +turned to Goodheart. "The other man with Clanton must be Billie Prince." + +"Yes." + +"I reckon the Lazy S M boys are lookin' for 'em." + +"You guessed right first crack out of the box." + +"Where are our boys holed up?" + +"In a cave the other side of town. They're just beyond the big bend of +the river. I'll take you there." + +"You've seen 'em." + +"No." Goodheart hesitated just a moment before he went on. "I was sent by +the person who has seen 'em." + +"Listens to me like a plant," jeered Yankie. + +"Meanin' that I'm a liar?" asked Goodheart coldly. + +"I wasn't born yesterday. Come clean. Who is yore friend that saw the +boys?" + +"I can't tell you that." + +"Then yore story doesn't interest me a whole lot." + +"Different here," dissented Wrayburn. "Do you know how badly Clanton is +hurt, Jack?" + +"No. He was able to ride out of town, but my friend told me to say he +wasn't able to ride now. You'll have to send a wagon for him." + +Wrayburn turned to the foreman. "Joe, we've got to go back an' help the +boys." + +"Not on yore topknot, Dad. I'm here to move these beeves along to the +Fort. Prince an' that Clanton may have gone on a tear an' got into +trouble or they may not. I don't care a plugged nickel which way it is. +I'm not keepin' herd on them, an' what's more I don't intend to." + +"We can't leave 'em thataway. Dad gum it, we got to stand by the boys, +Joe. That's what Webb would tell us if he was here." + +"But he ain't here, Dad. An' while he's gone I'm major-domo of this +outfit. We're headed north, not south." + +"You may be. I'm not. An' I reckon you'll find several of the boys got +the same notion I have. I taken a fancy to both those young fellows, an' +if I hadn't I'd go help 'em just the same." + +"You ain't expectin' to ride our stock on this fool chase, are you?" + +"I'll ride the first good bronc I get my knees clamped to, Joe." + +"As regards that, you'll get my answer like shot off'n a shovel. None of +the Flyin' V Y remuda is goin'." + +Wrayburn cantered around the point of the herd to the swing, from the +swing back to the drag, and then forward to the left point. In the +circuit he had stopped to sound out each rider. + +"We all have decided that ten of us will go back, Joe," he announced +serenely. "That leaves enough to loose-herd the beeves whilst we're +away." + +Yankie grew purple with rage. "If you go you'll walk. I'll show you who's +foreman here." + +"No use raisin' a rookus, Joe," replied the old Confederate mildly. +"We're goin'. Yore authority doesn't stretch far enough to hold us here." + +"I'll show you!" stormed the foreman. "Some of you will go to sleep in +smoke if you try to take any of my remuda." + +"Now don't you-all be onreasonable, Joe. We got to go. Cayn't you get it +through yore cocoanut that we've got to stand by our pardners?" + +"That killer Clanton is no pardner of mine. I meant to burn powder with +him one of these days myself. If Wally Snaith beats me to it I'm not +goin' to wear black," retorted Yankie. + +"Sho! The kid's got good stuff in him. An' nobody could ask for a squarer +pal than Billie Prince. You know that yore own self." + +"You heard what I said, Dad. The Flyin' V Y horses don't take the back +trail to-day," insisted the foreman stubbornly. + +The wrinkled eyes of Wrayburn narrowed a little. He looked straight at +Yankie. + +"Don't get biggety, Joe. I'm not askin' you or any other man whether I +can ride to rescue a friend when he's in trouble. You don't own these +broncs, an' if you did we'd take 'em just the same." + +The voice of Wrayburn was still gentle, but it no longer pleaded for +understanding. The words were clean-cut and crisp. + +"I'll show you!" flung back the foreman with an oath. + +When the little group of cavalry was gathered for the start, Yankie, +rifle in hand, barred the way. His face was ugly with the fury of his +anger. + +Dad Wrayburn rode forward in front of his party. "Don't git promiscuous +with that cannon of yours, Joe. You've done yore level best to keep us +here. But we're goin' just the same. We-all will tell the old man how +tender you was of his remuda stock. That will let you out." + +"Don't you come another step closeter, Dad Wrayburn!" the foreman +shouted. "I'll let you know who is boss here." + +Wrayburn did not raise his voice. The drawl in it was just as pronounced, +but every man present read in it a warning. + +"This old sawed-off shotgun of mine spatters like hell, Joe. It always +did shoot all over the United States an' Texas." + +There was an instant of dead silence. Each man watched the other +intently, the one cool and determined, the other full of a volcanic fury. +The curtain had been rung up for tragedy. + +A man stepped between them, twirling carelessly a rawhide rope. + +"Just a moment, gentlemen. I think I know a way to settle this without +bloodshed." Jack Goodheart looked first at the ex-Confederate, then at +the foreman. He was still whirling as if from absent-minded habit the +loop of his reata. + +"We're here to listen, Jack. That would suit me down to the ground," +answered Wrayburn. + +The loop of the lariat snaked forward, whistled through the air, dropped +over the head of Yankie, and tightened around his neck. A shot went +wildly into the air as the rifle was jerked out of the hands of its +owner, who came to the earth with sprawling arms. Goodheart ran forward +swiftly, made a dozen expert passes with his fingers, and rose without a +word. + +Yankie had been hog-tied by the champion roper of the Southwest. + + + + +Chapter XV + +Lee Plays a Leading Role + + +A man on horseback clattered up the street and drew up at the Snaith +house. He was a sandy-complexioned man with a furtive-eyed, apologetic +manner. Miss Bertie Lee recognized him as one of the company riders named +Dumont. + +"Is yore paw home, Miss Lee?" he asked breathlessly. + +"Some one to see you, dad," called the girl over her shoulder. + +Wallace Snaith sauntered out to the porch. "'Lo, Dumont!" + +"I claim that hundred dollars reward. I done found 'em, Mr. Snaith." + +Lee, about to enter the house, stopped in her tracks. + +"Where?" demanded the cattleman jubilantly. + +"Down the river--hid in a dugout they done built. I'll take you-all +there." + +"I knew they couldn't be far away when that first hawss came in all +blood-stained. Hustle up four or five of the boys, Dumont. Get 'em here +on the jump." In the face of the big drover could be read a grim elation. + +His daughter confronted him. "What are you going to do, dad?" + +"None o' yore business, Lee. You ain't in this," he answered promptly. + +"You're going out to kill those men," she charged, white to the lips. + +"They'll git a trial if they surrender peaceable." + +"What kind of a trial?" she asked scornfully. "They know better than to +surrender. They'll fight." + +"That'll suit me too." + +"Don't, dad. Don't do it," the girl begged. "They're game men. They +fought fair. I've made inquiries. You mustn't kill them like wolves." + +"Mustn't I?" he said stubbornly. "I reckon that's just what I'm goin' to +do. I'll learn Homer Webb to send his bad men to Los Portales lookin' +for trouble. He can't kill my riders an' get away with it." + +"You know he didn't do that. This boy--Clanton, if that's his name--had a +feud with the Roush family. One of them betrayed his sister. Far as I can +find out these Roush brothers were the scum of the earth," Her bosom rose +and fell fast with excitement. + +"Howcome you to know so much about it, girl? Not that it makes any +difference. They may have been hellhounds, but they were my riders. These +gunmen went into my own place an' shot 'em down. They picked the fight. +There's no manner o' doubt about that." + +"They didn't do it on your account. I tell you there was an old feud." + +"Webb thinks he's got the world by the tail for a downhill pull. I'll +show him." + +"Dad, you're starting war. Don't you see that? If you shoot these men +he'll get back by killing some of yours. And so it will go on." + +"I reckon. But I'm not startin' the war. He did that. It was the boldest +piece of cheek I ever heard tell of--those two gunmen goin' into +Tolleson's and shootin' up my riders. They got to pay the price." + +Lee cried out in passionate protest. "It'll be just plain murder, dad. +That's all." + +"What's got into you, girl?" he demanded, seizing her by the arms. The +chill of anger and suspicion filmed his light-blue eyes. "I won't stand +for this kind of talk. You go right into the house an' 'tend to yore own +knittin'. I've heard about enough from you." + +He swung her round by the shoulders and gave a push. + +Lee did not go to her room and fling herself upon the bed in an impotent +storm of tears. She stood thinking, her little fists clenched and her +eyes flashing. Civilization has trained women to feebleness of purpose, +but this girl stood outside of conventional viewpoints. It was her habit +to move directly to the thing she wanted. Her decision was swift, the +action following upon it immediate. + +She lifted her rifle down from the deer-horn rack where it rested and +buckled the ammunition belt around her waist. Swiftly she ran to the +corral, roped her bronco, saddled it, and cinched. As she galloped away +she saw her father striding toward the stable. His shout reached her, but +she did not wait to hear what he wanted. + +The hoofs of her pony drummed down the street. She flew across the desert +and struck the river just below town. The quirt attached to her wrist +rose and fell. She made no allowance for prairie-dog holes, but went at +racing speed through the rabbit weed and over the slippery salt-grass +bumps. + +In front of the cave she jerked the horse to a halt. + +"Hello, in there!" + +The tumble weeds moved and the head of Prince appeared. He pushed the +brush aside and came out. + +"Buenos tardes, senorita. Didn't know you were comin' back again to-day." + +"You've been seen," she told him hurriedly as she dismounted. "Dad's +gathering his men. He means to make you trouble." + +Billie looked away in the direction of the town. A mile or more away he +saw a cloud of dust. It was moving toward them. + +"I see he does," he answered quietly. + +"Quick! Get your friend out. Take my horse." + +He shook his head slowly. "No use. They would see us an' run us down. +We'll make a stand here." + +"But you can't do that. They'll surround you. They'll send for more men +if they need 'em." + +"Likely. But Jim couldn't stand such a ride even if there was a +chance--and there isn't, not with yore horse carryin' double. We'll +hold the fort, Miss Lee, while you make yore get-away into the hills. +An' thank you for comin'. We'll never forget all you've done for us +these days." + +"I'm not going." + +"Not goin'?" + +"I'm going to stay right here. They won't dare to shoot at you if I'm +here." + +"I never did see such a girl as you," admitted Prince, smiling at her. +"You take the cake. But we can't let you do that for us. We can't skulk +behind a young lady's skirts to save our hides. It's not etiquette on the +Pecos." + +The red color burned through her dusky skin. "I'm not doing it for you," +she said stiffly. "It's dad I'm thinking about. I don't want him mixed +up in such a business. I won't have it either." + +"You'd better go to him and talk it over, then." + +"No. I'll stay here. He wouldn't listen to me a minute." + +Billie was still patient with her. "I don't think you'd better stay, Miss +Lee. I know just how you feel. But there are a lot of folks won't +understand howcome you to take up with yore father's enemies. They'll +talk a lot of foolishness likely." + +The cowpuncher blushed at his own awkward phrasing of the situation, yet +the thing had to be said and he knew no other way to say it. + +She flashed a resentful glance at him. Her cheeks, too, flamed. + +"I don't care what they say since it won't be true," she answered +proudly. "You needn't argue. I've staked out a claim here." + +"I wish you'd go. There's still time." + +The girl turned on him angrily with swift, animal grace. "I tell you it's +none of your business whether I go or stay. I'll do just as I please." + +Prince gave up his attempt to change her mind. If she would stay, she +would. He set about arranging the defense. + +Young Clanton crept out to the mouth of the cave and lay down with his +rifle beside him. His friend piled up the tumble weeds in front of him. + +"We're right enough in front--easy enough to stand 'em off there," +reflected Billie, aloud. "But I'd like to know what's to prevent us from +being attacked in the rear. They can crawl up through the brush till +they're right on top of the bank. They can post sharpshooters in the +mesquite across the river so that if we come out to check those snakin' +forward, the snipers can get us." + +"I'll sit on the bank above the cave and watch 'em," announced Lee. + +"An' what if they mistook you for one of us?" asked Prince dryly. + +"They can't, with me wearing a red coat." + +"You're bound to be in this, aren't you?" His smile was more friendly +than the words. It admitted reluctant admiration of her. + +The party on the other side of the river was in plain sight now. Jim +counted four--five--six of them as they deployed. Presently Prince threw +a bullet into the dust at the feet of one of the horses as they moved +forward. It was meant as a warning not to come closer and accepted as +one. + +After a minute of consultation a single horseman rode to the bank of the +stream. + +"You over there," he shouted. + +"It's dad," said Lee. + +"You'd better surrender peaceable. We've come to git you alive or dead," +shouted Snaith. + +"What do you want us for?" asked Prince. + +"You know well enough what for. You killed one of my punchers." + +Clanton groaned. "Only one?" + +"An' another may die any day. Come out with yore hands up." + +"We'd rather stay here, thank you," Billie called back. + +Snaith leaned forward in the saddle. "Is that you over there, Lee?" + +"Yes, dad." + +"Gone back on yore father and taken up with Webb's scalawags, have you?" + +"No, I haven't," she called back. "But I'm going to see they get fair +play." + +"You git out of there, girl, and on this side of the river!" Snaith +roared angrily. "Pronto! Do you hear?" + +"There's no use shouting yourself hoarse, dad. I can hear you easily, and +I'm not coming." + +"Not comin'! D'ye mean you've taken up with a pair of killers, of outlaws +we 're goin' to put out of business? You talk like a--like a--" + +"Go slow, Snaith!" cut in Prince sharply. "Can't you see she's tryin' to +save you from murder?" + +"We're goin' to take those boys back to Los Portales with us--or their +bodies. I don't care a whole lot which. You light a shuck out of there, +Lee." + +"No," she answered stubbornly. "If you're so bent on shooting at some one +you can shoot at me." + +The cattleman stormed and threatened, but in the end he had to give up +the point. His daughter was as obstinate as he was. He retired in +volcanic humor. + +"I never could get dad to give up swearing," his daughter told her new +friends by way of humorous apology. "Wonder what he'll do now." + +"Wait till night an' drive us out of our hole, I expect," replied Prince. + +"Will he wait? I'm not so sure of that," said Jim. "See. His men are +scattering. They're up to somethin'." + +"They're going down to cross the river to get behind us just as you said +they would," predicted Lee. + +She was right. Half an hour later, from her position on the bank above +the cave, she caught a glimpse of a man slipping forward through the +brush. She called to Prince, who crept out from behind the tumble weeds +to join her. A bullet dug into the soft clay not ten inches from his +head. He scrambled up and lay down behind a patch of soapweed a few yards +from the girl. Another bullet from across the river whistled past the +cowpuncher. + +Lee rose and walked across to the bushes where he lay crouched. Very +deliberately she stood there, shading her eyes from the sun as she looked +toward the sharpshooters. Twice they had taken a chance, because of the +distance between her and Prince. She intended they should know how close +she was to him now. + +Billie could not conceal his anxiety for her. "Why don't you get back +where you were? I got as far as I could from you on purpose. What's the +sense of you comin' right up to me when you see they're shootin' at me?" + +"That's why I came up closer. They'll have to stop it as long as I'm +here." + +"You can't stay there the rest of yore natural life, can you?" he +asked with manifest annoyance. Even if he got out of his present danger +alive--and Billie had to admit to himself that the chances did not look +good--he knew it would be cast up to him some day that he had used Lee +Snaith's presence as a shield against his enemies. "Why don't you act +reasonable an' ride back to town, like a girl ought to do? You've been a +good friend to us. There's nothin' more you can do. It's up to us to +fight our way out." + +He took careful aim and fired. A man in the bushes two hundred yards back +of them scuttled to his feet and ran limping off. Billie covered the +dodging man with his rifle carefully, then lowered his gun without +firing. + +"Let him go," said Prince aloud. "Mr. Dumont won't bother us a whole lot. +He's gun-shy anyhow." + +From across the river came a scatter of bullets. + +"They've got to hit closeter to that before they worry me," Jim called to +the two above. + +"I don't think they shot to hit. They're tryin' to scare Miss Lee away," +called down Billie. + +"As if I didn't know dad wouldn't let 'em take any chances with me here," +the girl said confidently "If we can hold out till night I can stay here +and keep shooting while you two slip away and hide. Before morning your +friends ought to arrive." + +"If they got yore message." + +"Oh, they got it. Jack Goodheart carried it." + +The riflemen across the river were silent for a time. When they began +sniping again, it was from such an angle that they could aim at the cave +without endangering those above. Both Clanton and Prince returned the +fire. + +Presently Lee touched on the shoulder the man beside her. + +"Look!" + +She pointed to a cloud of smoke behind them. From it tongues of fire +leaped up into the air. Farther to the right a second puff of smoke could +be seen, and beyond it another and still a fourth jet. + +After a moment of dead silence Prince spoke. "They've fired the prairie. +The wind is blowin' toward us. They mean to smoke us out." + +"Yes." + +"We'll be driven down into the open bed of the river where they can pick +us off." + +The girl nodded. + +"Now, will you leave us?" Billie turned on her triumphantly. He could at +least choose the conditions of the last stand they must make. "They've +called our bluff. It's a showdown." + +"Now I'll go less than ever," she said quietly. + + + + +Chapter XVI + +Three Modern Musketeers + + +The fierce crackling of the flames rolled toward them. The wind served at +least the one purpose of lifting the smoke so that it did not stifle +those on the river-bank. Clanton crept up from the cave and joined them. + +"Looks like we're goin' out with fireworks, Billie," he grinned. + +"That's nonsense," said Lee sharply. "There's a way of escape, if only we +can find it." + +"Blamed if I see it," the young fellow answered. As he looked at her the +eyes in his pale face glowed. "But I see one thing. You're the best +little pilgrim that ever I met up with." + +The heat of the flames came to them in waves. + +"You walk out, climb on yore horse, an' ride down the river, Miss Lee. +Then we'll make a break for cover. You can't do anything more for us," +insisted Prince. + +"That's right," agreed the younger man. "We'll play this out alone. You +cut yore stick an' drift. If we git through I'll sure come back an' thank +you proper some day." + +Recently Lee had read "The Three Musketeers." From it there flashed to +her a memory of the picture on the cover. + +"I know what we'll do," she said, coughing from a swallow of smoke. She +stepped between them and tucked an arm under the elbow of each. "All +for one, and one for all. Forward march!" + +They moved down the embankment side by side to the sand-bed close to the +stream, each of the three carrying a rifle tucked close to the side. From +the chaparral keen eyes watched them, covering every step they took with +ready weapons. Miss Lee's party turned to the right and followed the +river-bed in the direction of Los Portales. For the wind was driving the +fire down instead of up. Those in the mesquite held a parallel course to +cut off any chance of escape. + +Some change of wind currents swept the smoke toward them in great +billows. It enveloped the fugitives in a dense cloud. + +"Get yore head down to the water," Billie called into the ear of the +girl. + +They lay on the rocks in the shallow water and let the black smoke waves +pour over them. Lee felt herself strangling and tried to rise, but a +heavy hand on her shoulder held her face down. She sputtered and coughed, +fighting desperately for breath. A silk handkerchief was slipped over her +face and knotted behind. She felt sick and dizzy. The knowledge flashed +across her mind that she could not stand this long. In its wake came +another dreadful thought. Was she going to die? + +The hand on her shoulder relaxed. Lee felt herself lifted to her feet. +She caught at Billie's arm to steady herself, for she was still queer in +the head. For a few moments she stood there coughing the smoke out of her +lungs. His arm slipped around her shoulder. + +"Take yore time," he advised. + +A second shift of the breeze had swept the smoke away. This had saved +their lives, but it had also given Snaith's men another chance at them A +bullet whistled past the head of Clanton, who was for the time a few +yards from his friends. Instantly he whipped the rifle up and fired. + +"No luck" he grumbled. "My eyes are sore from the smoke. I can't half +see." + +Lee was not yet quite herself. The experience through which she had just +passed had shaken her nerves. + +"Let's get out of here quick!" she cried. + +"Take yore time. There's no hurry," Prince iterated. "They won't shoot +again, now Jim's close to us." + +The younger man grinned, as he had a habit of doing when the cards fell +against him. "Where'd we go? Look, they've headed us off. We can't +travel forward. We can't go back. I expect we'll have to file on the +quarter-section where we are," he drawled. + +A rider had galloped forward and was dismounting close to the river. He +took shelter behind a boulder. + +Billie swept with a glance the plain to their right. A group of horsemen +was approaching. "More good citizens comin' to be in at the finish of +this man hunt. They ought to build a grand stand an' invite the whole +town," he said sardonically. + +A water-gutted arroyo broke the line of liver-bank. Jim, who was limping +heavily, stopped and examined it. + +"Let's stay here, Billie, an' fight it out. No use foolin' ourselves. +We're trapped. Might as well call for a showdown here as anywhere." + +Prince nodded. "Suits me. We'll make our stand right at the head of the +arroyo." He turned abruptly to the girl. "It's got to be good-bye here, +Miss Lee." + +"That's whatever, littlest pilgrim," agreed Clanton promptly. "If you get +a chance send word to Webb an' tell him how it was with us." + +Her lip trembled. She knew that in the shadow of the immediate future red +tragedy lurked. She had done her best to avert it and had failed. The +very men she was trying to save had dismissed her. + +"Must I go?" she begged. + +"You must, Miss Lee. We're both grateful to you. Don't you ever doubt +that!" Billie said, his earnest gaze full in hers. + +The girl turned away and went up through the sand, her eyes filmed with +tears so that she could not see where she was going. The two men entered +the arroyo. Before they reached the head of it she could hear the crack +of exploding rifles. One of the men across the river was firing at them +and they were throwing bullets back at him. She wondered, shivering, +whether it was her father. + +It must have been a few seconds later that she heard the joyous +"Eee-yip-eee!" of Prince. Almost at the same time a rider came splashing +through the shallow water of the river toward her. + +The man was her father. He swung down from the saddle and snatched her +into his arms. His haggard face showed her how anxious he had been. She +began to sob, overcome, perhaps, as much by his emotion as her own. + +"I'll blacksnake the condemned fool that set fire to the prairie!" he +swore, gulping down a lump in his throat. "Tell me you-all aren't hurt, +Bertie Lee.... God! I thought you was swallowed up in that fire." + +"Daddie, daddie I couldn't help it. I had to do it," she wept. "And--I +thought I would choke to death, but Mr. Prince saved me. He kept my +face close to the water and made me breathe through a handkerchief." + +"Did he?" The man's face set grimly again. "Well, that won't save him. As +for you, miss, you're goin' to yore room to live on bread an' water +for a week. I wish you were a boy for about five minutes so's I could +wear you to a frazzle with a cowhide." + +Snaith's intentions toward Clanton and Prince had to be postponed for the +present, the cattleman discovered a few minutes later. When he and Lee +emerged from the river-bed to the bank above, the first thing he saw was +a group of cowpunchers shaking hands gayly with the two fugitives. His +jaw dropped. + +"Where in Mexico did they come from?" he asked himself aloud. + +"I expect they're Webb's riders," his daughter answered with a little sob +of joy. "I thought they'd never come." + +"You thought.... How did you know they were comin'?" + +"Oh, I sent for them," The girl's dark eyes met his fearlessly. A flicker +of a smile crept into them. "I've had the best of you all round, dad. +You'd better make that two weeks on bread and water." + +Wallace Snaith gathered his forces and retreated from the field of +battle. A man on a spent horse met him at his own gate as he dismounted. +He handed the cattleman a note. + +On the sheet of dirty paper was written: + +The birds you want are nesting in a dugout on the river four miles below +town. You got to hurry or they'll be flown. + +J.Y. + +Snaith read the note, tore it in half, and tossed the pieces away. He +turned to the messenger. + +"Tell Joe he's just a few hours late. His news isn't news any more." + + + + +Chapter XVII + +"Peg-Leg" Warren + + +Webb drove his cattle up the river, the Staked Plains on his right. The +herd was a little gaunt from the long journey and he took the last part +of the trek in easy stages. Since he had been awarded the contract for +beeves at the Fort, by Department orders the old receiving agent had been +transferred. The new appointee was a brother-in-law of McRobert and the +owner of the Flying V Y did not want to leave any loophole for rejection +of the steers. + +With the clean blood of sturdy youth in him Clanton recovered rapidly +from the shoulder wound. In order to rest him as much as possible, +Webb put him in charge of the calf wagon which followed the drag and +picked up any wobbly-legged bawlers dropped on the trail. During the +trip Jim discovered for himself the truth of what Billie had said, +that the settlers with small ranches were lined up as allies of the +Snaith-McRobert faction. These men, owners of small bunches of cows, +claimed that Webb and the other big drovers rounded up their cattle in +the drive, ran the road brand of the traveling outfit on these strays, +and sold them as their own. The story of the drovers was different. +They charged that these "nesters" were practically rustlers preying upon +larger interests passing through the country to the Indian reservations. +Year by year the feeling had grown more bitter, That Snaith and McRobert +backed the river settlers was an open secret. A night herder had been +shot from the mesquite not a month before. The blame had been laid upon a +band of bronco Mescaleros, but the story was whispered that a "bad +man" in the employ of the Lazy S M people, a man known as "Mysterious +Pete Champa," boasted later while drunk that he had fired the shot. + +Jim had heard a good deal about this Mysterious Pete. He was a killer of +the most deadly kind because he never gave warning of his purpose. The +man was said to be a crack shot, quick as chain lightning, without the +slightest regard for human life. He moved furtively, spoke little when +sober, and had no scruples against assassination from ambush. Nobody in +the Southwest was more feared than he. + +This man crossed the path of Clanton when the herd was about fifty miles +from the Fort. + +The beeves had been grazing forward slowly all afternoon and were +loose-bedded early for the night. Cowpunchers are as full of larks as +schoolboys on a holiday. Now they were deciding a bet as to whether +Tim McGrath, a red-headed Irish boy, could ride a vicious gelding that +had slipped into the remuda. Billie Prince roped the front feet of the +horse and threw him. The animal was blindfolded and saddled. + +Doubtful of his own ability to stick to the seat, Tim maneuvered the +buckskin over to the heavy sand before he mounted. The gelding went +sun-fishing into the air, then got his head between his legs and gave his +energy to stiff-legged bucking. He whirled as he plunged forward, went +round and round furiously, and unluckily for Tim reached the hard ground. +The jolts jerked the rider forward and back like a jack-knife without a +spring. He went flying over the head of the bronco to the ground. + +The animal, red-eyed with hate, lunged for the helpless puncher. A second +time Billie's rope snaked forward. The loop fell true over the head of +the gelding, tightened, and swung the outlaw to one side so that his +hoofs missed the Irishman. Tim scrambled to his feet and fled for safety. + +The cowpunchers whooped joyously. In their lives near-tragedy was too +frequent to carry even a warning. Dad Wrayburn hummed a stanza of +"Windy Bill" for the benefit of McGrath: + +"Bill Garrett was a cowboy, an' he could ride, you bet; He said the bronc +he couldn't bust was one he hadn't met. He was the greatest talker that +this country ever saw Until his good old rim-fire went a-driftin' down +the draw." + +Two men had ridden up unnoticed and were watching with no obvious +merriment the contest. Now one of them spoke. + +"Where can I find Homer Webb?" + +Dad turned to the speaker, a lean man with a peg-leg, brown as a Mexican, +hard of eye and mouth. The gray bristles on the unshaven face advertised +him as well on into middle age. Wrayburn recognized the man as "Peg-Leg" +Warren, one of the most troublesome nesters on the river. + +"He's around here somewhere." Dad turned to Canton. "Seen anything of the +old man, Jim?" + +"Here he comes now." + +Webb rode up to the group. At sight of Warren and his companion the face +of the drover set. + +"I've come to demand an inspection of yore herd," broke out the nester +harshly. + +"Why demand it? Why not just ask for it?" cut back Webb curtly. + +"I'm not splittin' words. What I'm sayin' is that if you've got any of my +cattle here I want 'em." + +"You're welcome to them." Webb turned to his segundo. "Joe, ride through +the herd with this man. If there's any stock there with his brand, +cut 'em out for him. Bring the bunch up to the chuck wagon an' let me see +'em before he drives 'em away." + +The owner of the Flying V Y brand wasted no more words. He swung his +cowpony around and rode back to the chuck wagon to superintend the +jerking of the hind quarters of a buffalo. + +He was still busy at this when the nester returned with half a dozen +cattle cut out from the herd. In those days of the big drives many strays +drifted by chance into every road outfit passing through the country. It +was no reflection on the honesty of a man to ask for an inspection and to +find one's cows among the beeves following the trail. + +Webb walked over to the little bunch gathered by Warren and looked over +each one of the steers. + +"That big red with the white stockin's goes with the herd. The rest may +be yours," the drover said. + +"The roan's mine too. My brand's the Circle Diamond. See here where it's +been blotted out." + +"I bought that steer from the Circle Lazy H five hundred miles from here. +You'll find a hundred like it in the herd," returned Webb calmly. + +Warren turned to his companion. "Pete, you know this steer. Ain't it +mine?" + +"Sure." The man to whom Warren had turned for confirmation was a slight, +trim, gray-eyed man. Sometimes the gray of the eyes turned almost +black, but always they were hard as onyx. There was about the man +something sinister, something of eternal wariness. His glance had a habit +of sweeping swiftly from one person to another as if it questioned what +purpose might lie below the unruffled surface. + +Homer Webb called to Prince and to Wrayburn. "Billie--Dad, know anything +about this big red steer?" + +"Know it? We'd ought to," answered Wrayburn promptly. "It's the ladino +beef that started the stampede on the Brazos--made us more trouble than +any ten critters of the bunch." + +"You bought it from the Circle Lazy H," supplemented Billie. + +Peg-Leg Warren laughed harshly. "O' course they'll swear to it. You're +givin' them their job, ain't you?" + +The drover looked at him steadily. "Yes, I'm givin' the boys a job, but I +haven't bought 'em body an' soul, Warren." + +The eyes of the nester were a barometer of his temper. "That's my beef, +Webb." + +"It never was yours an' it never will be." + +"Raw work, Webb. I'll not stand for it." + +"Don't overplay yore hand," cautioned the owner of the trail herd. + +Clanton had ridden up and was talking to the cook. A couple of other +punchers had dropped up to the chuck wagon, casually as it were. + +Warren glared at them savagely, but swallowed his rage. "It's yore say-so +right now, but I'll collect what's comin' to me one of these days. You're +liable to find this trail hotter 'n hell with the lid on." + +"I'm not lookin' for trouble, but I'm not runnin' away from it," returned +Webb evenly. + +"You're sure goin' to find it--a heap more of it than you can ride herd +on. That right, Pete?" + +The gray-eyed man nodded slightly. Mysterious Pete had the habit of +taciturnity. His gaze slid in a searching, sidelong fashion from Webb to +Prince, on to Wrayburn, across to Clanton, and back to the drover. No +wolf in the encinal could have been warier. + +"Cut out the roan," ordered Webb. + +The ladino was separated from the bunch of Circle Diamond cattle. Warren +and his satellite drove the rest from the camp. + +"War, looks like," commented Dad Wrayburn. + +"Yes," agreed the drover. "I wish it didn't have to be. But Peg-Leg +called for a showdown. He came here to force my hand. As regards the +beef, he might have had it an' welcome. But that wouldn't have satisfied +him. He'd have taken it for a sign of weakness if I had given way." + +"What will he do?" asked young McGrath. + +"I don't know. We'll have to keep our eyes open every minute of the day +an' night. Are you with me, boys?" + +Tim threw his hat into the air and let out a yell. "Surest thing you +know." + +"Damfidon't sit in an' take a hand," said Wrayburn. + +One after another agreed to back the boss. + +"But don't think it will be a picnic," urged Webb. "We'll know we've been +in a fight before we get through. With a crowd of gunmen like Mysterious +Pete against us we'll have hard travelin'. I'd side-step this if I could, +but I can't." + + + + +Chapter XVIII + +A Stampede + + +Clanton took his turn at night herding for the first time the day of +Warren's visit to the camp. Under a star-strewn sky he circled the +sleeping herd, humming softly a stanza of a cowboy song. Occasionally he +met Billie Prince or Tim McGrath circling in the opposite direction. The +scene was peaceful as old age and beautiful as a fairy tale. For under +the silvery light of night the Southwest takes on a loveliness foreign to +it in the glare of the sun. The harsh details of day are lost in a +luminous glow of mystic charm. + +Jim had just ridden past Billie when the silence was shattered by a +sudden fury of sound. The popping of revolvers, the clanging of cow +bells, the clash of tin boilers--all that medley of discord which lends +volume to the horror known as a charivari--tore to shreds the harmony of +the night. + +"What's that?" called Billie. + +The hideous dissonance came from the side of the herd farthest from the +camp. Together the two riders galloped toward it. + +"Peg-Leg Warren's work," guessed Clanton. + +"Sure," agreed Billie. "Trying to stampede the herd." + +Already the cattle were bawling in wild terror, surging toward the camp +to escape this unknown danger. Both of the punchers drew their revolvers +and fired rapidly into the herd. It was impossible to check the rush, but +they succeeded in deflecting it from the sleeping men. Before the weapons +were empty, the ground shook with a thunder of hoofs as the herd fled +into the darkness. + +Billie found himself in the van of the stampede. He was caught in the +rush and to save himself from being trampled down was forced to join the +flight. He was the center of a moving sea of backs, so hemmed in that if +his pony stumbled life would be trodden out of him in an instant. Except +for occasional buffalo wallows the ground was level, but at any moment +his mount might break a leg in a prairie-dog hole. + +For the first mile or two the cattle were packed in a dense mass, +shoulder to shoulder, all lumbering forward in wild-eyed panic. The noise +of their hoofs was like the continuous roll of thunder and the cloud of +dust so thick that the throat of Prince was swollen with it. It was only +after the stampeded cattle had covered several miles that the formation +of their aimless charge grew looser. The pace slackened as the steers +became leg-weary. Now and again small bunches dropped from the drag or +from one of the flanks. Gradually Billie was able to work toward the +outskirts. His chance came when the herd poured into a swale and from it +emerged into a more broken terrain. Directly in front of the leaders was +a mesa with a sharp incline. Instead of taking the hill, the stampede +split, part flowing to the right and part to the left. The cow-puncher +urged his flagged horse straight up the hill. + +He had escaped with his life, but the bronco was completely exhausted. +Billie unsaddled and freed the cowpony. He knew it would not wander far +now. Stretched out at full length on the buffalo grass, the cowboy drank +into his lungs the clean, cold night air. His tongue was swollen, his +lips cracked and bleeding. The alkali dust, sifting into His eyes, had +left them red and sore. Every inch of his unshaven face, his hands, and +his clothes was covered with a fine, white powder. For a long drink of +mountain water he would gladly have given a month's pay. + +Within the hour Billie resaddled and took the back trail. There was no +time to lose. He must get back to camp, notify Webb where the stampede +was moving, and join the other riders in an all-night and all-day +round-up of the scattered herd. Since daybreak he had been in the saddle, +and he knew that for at least twenty-four hours longer he would not leave +it except to change from a worn-out horse to a fresh one. + +When Prince reached camp shortly after midnight he found that the +stampede of the cattle had for the moment fallen into second place in the +minds of his companions. They were digging a grave for the body of Tim +McGrath. The young Irishman had been shot down just as the attack on the +herd began. It was a reasonable guess to suppose that he had come face to +face with the raiders, who had shot him on the theory that dead men tell +no tales. + +But the cowpuncher had lived till his friends reached him. He had told +them with his dying breath that Mysterious Pete had shot him without a +word of warning and that after he fell from his horse Peg-Leg Warren rode +up and fired into his body. + +Jim Clanton called his friend to one side. "I'm goin' to sneak out an' +take a lick at them fellows, Billie. Want to go along?" + +"What's yore notion? How're you goin' to manage it?" + +"Me, I'm goin' to bushwhack Warren or some of his killers from the +chaparral." + +Prince had seen once before that cold glitter in the eyes of the hill +man. It was the look that comes into the face of the gunman when he is +intent on the kill. + +"I wouldn't do that if I was you, Jim," Billie advised. "This ain't our +personal fight. We're under orders. We'd better wait an' see what the +old man wants us to do. An? I don't reckon I would shoot from ambush +anyhow." + +"Wouldn't you? I would," The jaw of the younger man snapped tight. +"What chance did they give poor Tim, I'd like to know? He was one of the +best-hearted pilgrims ever rode up the trail, an' they shot him down like +a coyote. I'm goin' to even the score." + +"Don't you, Jim; don't you." Billie laid a hand on the shoulder of his +partner in adventure. "Because they don't fight in the open is no reason +for us to bushwhack too. That's no way for a white man to attack his +enemies." + +But the inheritance from feudist ancestors was strong in young Clanton. +He had seen a comrade murdered in cold blood. All the training of his +primitive and elemental nature called for vengeance. + +"No use beefin', Billie. You don't have to go if you don't want to. But +I'm goin'. I didn't christen myself Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em for nothin'." + +"Put it up to Webb first. Let's hear what he has got to say about it," +urged Prince. "We've all got to pull together. You can't play a lone hand +in this." + +"I'll put it up to Webb when I've done the job. He won't be responsible +for it then. He can cut loose from me if he wants to. So long, Billie. +I'll sleep on Peg-Leg Warren's trail till I git him." + +"Give up that fool notion, Jim. I can't let you go. It wouldn't be fair +to you or to Webb either. We're all in this together." + +"What'll you do to prevent my goin'?" + +"I'll tell the old man if I have to. Sho, kid! Let's not you an' me have +trouble." Billie's gentle smile pleaded for their friendship. "We've been +pals ever since we first met up. Don't go off on this crazy idea like a +half-cocked hogleg." + +"We're not goin' to quarrel, Billie. Nothin' to that. But I'm goin' +through." The boyish jaw clamped tight again. The eyes that looked at his +friend might have been of tempered steel for hardness. + +"No." + +"Yes." + +Clanton was leaning against the rump of his horse. He turned, indolently, +gathered his body suddenly, and vaulted to the saddle. Like a shot he was +off into the night. + +Billie, startled at the swiftness of his going, could only stare after +him impotently. He knew that it would be impossible to find one lone +rider in the darkness. + +Slowly he walked back to the grave. The riders of the Flying V Y were +gathered round in a quiet and silent group. They were burying the body of +him who had been the gayest and lightest-hearted of their circle only a +few hours before. + +As soon as the last shovelful of earth had been pressed down upon the +mound, Webb turned to business. The herd scattered over thirty miles of +country must be gathered at once and he set about the round-up. He had +had bad runs on the trail before and he knew the job before his men was +no easy one. + +They jogged out on a Spanish trot in the trail of the stampede. The chuck +wagon was to meet them at Spring River next morning, where the first +gather of beeves would be brought and held. All night they rode, tough as +hickory, strong as whip-cord. Into the desert sky sifted the gray light +which preceded the coming of day. Banners of mauve and amethyst and topaz +were flung across the horizon, to give place to glorious splashes of +purple and pink and crimson. The sun, a flaming ball of fire, rose big as +a washtub from the edge of the desert. + +In that early morning light crept over the plain little bunches of cattle +followed by brown, lithe riders. Like spokes of a wheel each group moved +to a hub. Old Black Ned, the cook, was the focus of their travel. For at +Spring River he had waiting for them hot coffee, flaky biscuits, steaks +hot from the coals. Each rider seized a tin cup, a tin plate, a knife and +fork, and was ready for the best Uncle Ned had to offer. + +The remuda had been brought up by the wranglers. While the horses milled +about in a cloud of dust, each puncher selected another mount. He +moved forward, his loop trailing, eye fixed on the one pony, out of one +hundred and fifty, that he wanted for the day's work. Suddenly a rope +would snake forward past half a dozen broncos and drop about the neck of +an animal near the heart of the herd. The twisting, dodging cowpony would +surrender instantly and submit to being cut out from the band. Saddles +were slapped on in a hurry and the riders were again on their way. + +Through the mesquite they rode, slackening speed for neither gullies nor +barrancas. Webb gave orders crisply, disposed of his men in such a way +as to make of them a drag-net through which no cattle could escape, and +began to tighten the loops for the drive back to camp. + +By the middle of the afternoon the chuck wagon was in sight. The ponies +were fagged, the men weary. For thirty-six hours these riders, whose +muscles seemed tough as whalebone, had been almost steadily in the +saddle. They slouched along now easily, always in a gray cloud of dust +raised by the bellowing cattle. + +The new gather of cattle was thrown in with those that had been rounded +up during the night. The punchers unsaddled their worn mounts and drifted +to the camp-fire one by one. Ravenously they ate, then rolled up in their +blankets and fell asleep at once. To-night they had neither heart nor +energy for the gay badinage that usually flew back and forth. + +Night was still heavy over the land when Uncle Ned's gong wakened them. +The moon was disappearing behind a scudding cloud, but stars could be +seen by thousands. Across the open plain a chill wind blew. + +All was bustle and confusion, but out of the turmoil emerged order. The +wranglers, already fed, moved into the darkness to bring up the remuda. +Tin cups and plates rattled merrily. Tongues wagged. Bits of repartee, +which are the salt of the cowpuncher's life, were flung across the fire +from one; to another. Already the death of Tim McGrath was falling into +the background of their swift, turbulent lives. After all the cowboy dies +young. Tim's soul had wandered out across the great divide only a few +months before that of others among them. + +Out of the mist emerged the desert, still gray and vague and without +detail. The day's work was astir once more. With the nickering of horses, +the bawling of cattle, and the shouts of men as an orchestral +accompaniment, light filtered into the valley for the drama of the new +sunrise. Once more the tireless riders swept into the mesquite through +the clutching cholla to comb another segment of country in search of the +beeves not yet reclaimed. + +That day's drive brought practically the entire herd together again. A +few had not been recovered, but Webb set these down to profit and loss. +What he regretted most was that the cattle were not in as good condition +as they had been before the stampede. + +The drover spent the next day cutting out the animals that did not belong +to him. Of these a good many had been collected in the round-up. It was +close to evening before the job was finished and the outfit returned to +camp. + +Billie rode up to the wagon with the old man. Leaning against a saddle on +the ground, a flank steak in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, +lounged Jim Clanton. + +Webb, hard-eyed and stiff, looked at the young man, "Had a pleasant +vacation, Clanton?" + +"I don't know as I would call it a vacation, Mr. Webb. I been attending +to some business," explained Jim. + +"Yours or mine?" + +"Yours an' mine." + +"You've been gone forty-eight hours. The rest of us have worked our heads +off gettin' together the herd. I reckon you can explain why you weren't +with us." + +Yellow with dust, unshaven, mud caked in his hair, hands torn by the +cat-claw, Homer Webb was red-eyed from lack of sleep and from the +irritation of the alkali powder. This young rider had broken the first +law of the cowpuncher, to be on the job in time of trouble and to stay +there as long as he could back a horse. The owner of the Flying V Y was +angry clear through at his desertion and he intended to let the boy know +it. + +"I went out to look for Peg-Leg Warren" said Clanton apologetically. + +Webb stopped in his stride. "You did? Who told you to do that?" + +"I didn't need to be told. I've got horse sense myself." Jim spoke a +little sulkily. He knew that he ought to have stayed with his employer. + +"Well, what did you do when you found Peg-Leg--make him a visit for a +couple of days?" demanded the drover with sarcasm. + +"No, I don't know him well enough to visit--only well enough to shoot +at." + +"What's that?" asked Webb sharply. + +"Think I was goin' to let 'em plug Tim McGrath an' get away with it?" +snapped Jim. + +"That's my business--not yours. What did you do? Come clean." + +"Laid out in the chaparral till I got a chance to gun him," the young +fellow answered sullenly. + +"And then?" + +"Plugged a hole through him an' made my get-away." + +"You mean you've killed Peg-Leg Warren?" + +"He'll never be any deader," said Clanton coolly. + +The dark blood flushed into Webb's face. He wasted no pity on Warren. The +man was a cold-hearted murderer and had reaped only what he had sowed. +But this was no excuse for Clanton, who had deliberately dragged the +Flying V Y into trouble without giving its owner a chance to determine +what form retribution should take. The cowpuncher had gone back to +primitive instincts and elected the blood feud as the necessary form of +reprisal. He had plunged Webb and the other drovers into war without even +a by-your-leave. His answer to murder had been murder. To encourage +this sort of thing would be subversive of all authority and would lead to +anarchy. + +"Get yore time from Yankie, Clanton," said his employer harshly. "Sleep +in camp to-night if you like, but hit the trail in the mornin'. I can't +use men like you." + +He turned away and left the two friends alone. + +Prince was sick at heart. He had warned the young fellow and it had done +no good. His regret was for Jim, not for Warren. He blamed himself for +not having prevented the killing of Peg-Leg. Yet he knew he had done all +that he could. + +"I'm sorry, Jim," he said at last. + +"Oh, well! What's done is done." + +But Billie could not dismiss the matter casually. He saw clearly that +Clanton had come to the parting of the ways and had unconsciously made +his choice for life. From this time he would be known as a bad man. The +brand of the killer would be on him and he would have to make good his +reputation. He would have to live without friends, without love, in the +dreadful isolation of one who is watched and feared by all. Prince felt a +great wave of sympathy for him, of regret for so young a soul gone so +totally astray. Surely the cards had been marked against Jim Clanton. + + + + +Chapter XIX + +A Two-Gun Man + + +Webb delivered his beeves at the Fort and endured with what fortitude he +could the heavy cut which the inspector chose to inflict on him. He paid +off his men and let them shift for themselves. Billie secured a wood +contract at the reservation, employed half a dozen men and teams, cleaned +up a thousand dollars in a couple of months, and rode back to Los +Portales in the late fall. + +He had money in his pocket and youth in his heart. The day was waning as +he rode up the street and in the sunlight the shadows of himself and his +horse were attenuated to farcical lengths. Little dust whirls rose in the +road, spun round in inverted cones like huge tops, and scurried out of +sight across the prairie. Horses drowsed lazily in front of Tolleson's, +anchored to the spot by the simple process of throwing the bridle to the +ground. It all looked good to Billie. He had been hard at work for many +months and he wanted to play. + +A voice hailed him from across the street. "Hello, you Billie!" + +Jim Clanton and Pauline Roubideau were coming out of a store. He +descended from his horse and they fell upon him gayly. + +"'Jour, monsieur," the girl cried, and she gave him warmly both her +hands. + +The honest eyes of Billie devoured her. "Didn't know you were within a +hundred miles of here. This is great." + +"We've moved. We live about twenty miles from town now. But I'm in a good +deal because Jean has bought the livery stable," she explained. + +"I'm sure glad to hear that." + +"You're to come and see us to-night. Supper will be ready in an hour. You +bring him, Jim," ordered the girl. "I'll leave you boys alone now. You +must have heaps to talk about." + +The gaze of the cowpuncher followed her as she went down the street light +and graceful as a fawn. Not since spring had he seen her, though in the +night watches he had often heard the sound of her gay voice, seen the +flash of her bright eyes, and recalled the sweet and gallant buoyancy +that was the dear note of her comradeship. + +Billie looked after his horse and walked with Jim to the Proctor House. +His mind was already busy appraising the changes in his friend. Clanton +was now a "two-gun" man. From each hip hung a heavy revolver, the lower +ends of the holsters tied down in order not to interfere with lightning +rapidity of action. The young man showed no signs of nervousness, but his +chill eyes watched without ceasing the street, doors and windows of +buildings, the faces of passers-by and corner loafers. What Prince had +foreseen was coming to pass. He was paying the penalty of his reputation +as a bad man. Already incessant wariness was the price of life for him. + +A second surprise awaited Billie at the Roubideau house. Polly was in the +kitchen and looked out of the door only to wave a big spoon at them as +they approached. Another young woman welcomed them. At sight of Billie a +deep flush burned under her dark skin. It was, perhaps, because of this +sign of emotion that her greeting was very cavalier. + +"You're back, I see!" + +Prince ignored the hint of hostility in her manner. His big hand gripped +her little one firmly. + +"Yes, I'm back, Miss Lee, and right glad to see you lookin' so well. I'll +never forget the last time we met." + +Neither would she, but she did not care to tell him so. The memory of the +adventure by the river-bank recurred persistently. This lean, sunbaked +cowpuncher with the kind eyes and quiet efficiency of bearing had +impressed himself upon her as no other man had. There was a touch of +scorn in her feeling for herself, because she knew she wanted him for her +mate more than anything else on earth. In the night, alone in the +friendly darkness, her hot face pressed into the cool pillows, she +confessed to herself that she loved him and longed for the sight of his +strong, good-looking face with its smile of whimsical humor. But that was +when she was safe from the eyes of the world. Now, to punish herself and +to prevent him from suspecting the truth, she devoted her attention +mainly to Clanton. + +Jim was openly her admirer. He wanted Lee to know it and did not care who +else observed his devotion. Pauline for one guessed the boy's state of +mind and smiled at it, but Billie wondered whether the smile hid an +aching heart. He knew that little Polly had a very tender feeling for the +boy who had saved her life. More than once during supper it seemed to him +that her soft eyes yearned for the reckless young fellow talking so gayly +to Miss Snaith. The conviction grew in Prince--it found lodgment in his +mind with a pang of despair--that the girl he cared for had given her +love to his friend. He fought against the thought, tried resolutely to +push it from him, but again and again it returned. + +Not until supper was well under way did Jean Roubideau come in from the +corral. He shook hands with Billie and at the same time explained to +Polly his tardiness. + +"Billie is not the only stranger in town to-night. Two or three blew in +just before I left and kept me a few minutes. That Mysterious Pete Champa +was one. You know him, don't you, Jim?" + +The question was asked carelessly, casually, but Prince read in it a +warning to his friend. It meant that he was to be ready for any emergency +which might arise. + +After they had eaten Billie went out to the porch to smoke with Jean. + +"Is there goin' to be trouble between Mysterious Pete an' Jim?" he asked. + +"Don't know. Wouldn't wonder if that was why Champa came to town. If I +was Jim I'd keep an eye in the back of my head when I walked. It's a +cinch Pete will try to get him--if he tries it at all--with all the +breaks in his favor." + +"Is it generally known that Jim was the man who killed Warren?" + +"Yes." Jean stuffed and lit his pipe before he, said anything more. "The +kid can't get away from it now. Folks think of him as a killer. They +watch him when he comes into a bar-room an' they're careful not to cross +him. He's a bad man whether he wants to be or not." + +Billie nodded. "I was afraid it would be that way, but I'm more afraid of +somethin' else. The worst thing that can happen to any man, except to +get killed himself, is to shoot another in cold blood. 'Most always it +gives the fellow a cravin' to kill again. Haven't you noticed it? A kind +of madness gets into the veins of a killer." + +"Sure I've noticed it. He has to be watchin'--watchin'--watchin' all the +time to make sure nobody gits him. His mind is on that one idea every +minute. Consequence is, he's always ready to shoot. So as not to take any +chances, he makes it a habit to be sudden death with a six-gun." + +"That's it. Most of 'em are sure-thing killers. Jim's not like that. He's +game as they make 'em. But I'd give every cent I'm worth if he hadn't +gone out an' got Peg-Leg," + +"He never had any bringin' up, or at least he had the wrong kind." He +listened a moment with a little smile. From the kitchen, where Jim was +helping the young women wash the dishes, came a murmur of voices and +occasionally a laugh. "Funny how all good women are mothers in their +hearts. Polly's tryin' to save that boy from himself, an' I reckon maybe +Miss Lee is too. In a way they got no business to have him here at all. I +like him. That ain't the point. But he's got off wrong foot first. He's +declared himself out of their class." + +"And yore sister won't see it that way?" + +"Not a bit of it. She's goin' to fight for his soul, as you might say, +an' bring him back if she can do it. Polly's a mighty loyal little +friend, if I am her brother that tells it." + +"She's right," decided Prince. "It can't hurt her any. Nothin' that's +wrong can do her any harm, because she's so fine she sees only the good. +An' it's certainly goin' to do the kid good to know her." + +"If he'd git out of here he might have a chance yet. But he won't. An' +when he meets up with Champa or Dave Roush he's got to forget mighty +prompt everything that Polly has told him." + +"I heard Roush was on the mend. Is he up again?" + +"Yes. He had a narrow squeak, but pulled through. Roush rode into town +with Mysterious Pete to-night." + +"Then they've probably come to gun Jim. I'll stay right with him for a +day or two if I can." + +"What for?" demanded Roubideau bluntly. "You're not in this thing. You've +got no call to mix up in it. The boy saved Polly, an' I'll go this far. +If I'm on the spot when he meets Champa or Roush--an' I'll try to be +there--I won't let'em both come at him without takin' a hand. But he +has got to choose his own way in life. I can't stand between him an' the +consequences of his acts. He's got to play his own hand." + +"Did Dave Roush an' Mysterious Pete seem pretty friendly?" + +"Thicker than three in a bed." + +"Looks bad." Billie came to another phase of the situation. "How does it +happen that Snaith's outfit have let Jim stay here without gettin' after +him? Nothin' but a necktie party would suit 'em when we left in the +spring." + +"Times have changed," explained Roubideau. "This is quite a trail town +now. The big outfits are bringin' in a good deal of money. Snaith can't +run things with so high a hand as he did. Besides, there are a good many +of the trail punchers in town now. I reckon Wally Snaith has given orders +not to start anything." + +"Maybe Roush an' Champa have been given orders to take care of Jim." + +Jean doubted this and said so. "Snaith doesn't play his hand under the +table. But, of course, Sanders may have tipped 'em off to do it." + +Clanton joined them presently and the three men walked downtown. The gay +smile dropped from Jim's face the moment he stepped down from the porch. +Already his eyes had narrowed and over them had come a kind of film. They +searched every dark spot on the road. + +"Let's go to Tolleson's," he proposed abruptly. + +There was a moment of silence before Billie made a counter-proposition. +"No, let's go back to the hotel." + +"All right. You fellows go to the hotel. Meet you there later." + +The eyes of Prince and Roubideau met. Not another word was spoken. Both +of them knew that Clanton intended to show himself in public where any +one that wanted him might find him. They turned toward Tolleson's, but +took the precaution to enter by the back door. + +The sound of shuffling feet, of tinkling piano and whining fiddle, gave +notice in advance that the dancers were on the floor. Clanton took the +precaution to ease the guns in their holsters in order to make sure of a +swift draw. + +His forethought was unnecessary. Neither Roush nor Mysterious Pete was +among the dancers, the gamblers, or at the bar. The three friends passed +out of the front door and walked to the Proctor House. Clanton had done +all that he felt was required of him and was willing to drop the matter +for the night. + + + + +Chapter XX + +Exit Mysterious Pete + + +In the cold, gray dawn of the morning after, Mysterious Pete straddled +down the main street of Los Portales with a dark-brown taste in his +mouth. He was feeling ugly. For he had imbibed a large quantity of +liquor. He had gambled and lost. He had boasted of what he intended to do +to one James Clanton, now generally known as "Go-Get-'Em Jim," + +This last in particular was a mistake. Moreover, it was quite out of +accord with the usual custom of Mr. Champa. When he made up his mind to +increase by one the number of permanent residents upon Boot Hill he bided +his time, waited till the suspicions of his victim were lulled, and shot +down his man without warning. The one fixed rule of his life was never to +take an unnecessary chance. Now he was taking one. + +Every chain has its weakest link. Mr. Champa drunk was a rock upon which +Mr. Champa sober had more than once come to shipwreck. No doubt some +busybody, seeking to curry favor with him, had run to this Clanton with +the tale of how Mysterious Pete had sworn to kill him on sight. + +The bad man was sour on the world this morning. He prided himself on +being always a dead shot, but such a night as he had spent would not help +his chances. There could be no doubt that his nerves were jumpy. What he +needed was a few hours' sleep. + +He would have taken a back street if he had dared, but to do so would +have been a confession of doubt. The killer can afford to let nobody +guess that he is afraid. When such a suspicion becomes current he might +as well order his coffin. The men whom he holds in the subjection of fear +will all be taking a chance with him. + +So Mysterious Pete, bad man and murderer, coward at heart to the marrow, +strutted toward his rooming-house with a heart full of hate to everybody. +The pleasant morning sunshine was an offense to him. A care-free laugh on +the breeze made him grit his teeth irritably. Particularly he hated Dave +Roush. For Roush had led him into this cunningly by bribery and flattery. +He had fed the jealousy of Pete, who could not brook the thought of a +rival bad man in his own territory. He had hinted that perhaps Champa had +better steer clear of this youth, whose reputation as a killer had grown +so amazingly. Ever since Clanton had killed Warren the bad man had +intended to "get him." But he had meant to do it without taking any risk. +His idea was to pretend to be his friend, push a gun into his stomach, +and down him before he could move. Now by his folly he had to take a +fighting chance. Dave Roush, to save his own skin, had pushed him into +danger. All this was quite clear to him now, and he raged at the +knowledge. + +Champa, too, was at another disadvantage. He was not sure that he would +know Clanton when he saw him. He had set eyes on the young fellow once, +on that occasion when he had gone with Warren to demand an inspection of +the Flying V Y herd. But he had seen him only as one of a group of +cowpunchers and not as an individual enemy, whereas it was quite certain +that Go-Get-'Em Jim would recognize him. + +From out of a doorway stepped a young fellow with his hand on his hip. +Pete's six-gun flashed upward in a quarter curve even as the bullet +crashed on its way. The youth staggered against the wall and sank +together into a heap. Champa, every sense alert, fired again, then waited +warily to make sure this was not a ruse of his victim. + +Some one--a woman--darted from a building opposite, flew across the +street, and dropped beside the crumpled figure. Her white skirt covered +the body like a protecting flag. + +The dark eyes in the white face lifted toward Champa were full of horror, +"You murderer! You've killed little Bud Proctor!" cried the young woman. + +He took an uncertain step or two toward her. Mysterious Pete knew that if +this were true, his race was run. + +"Goddlemighty, Miss Snaith! I swear I thought it was Clanton. He was +drawing a gun on me." + +Lee drew the boy to her bosom so that her body was between the killer and +his victim. A swift, up-blazing, maternal fury seemed to leap from her +face. + +"Don't come any nearer! Don't you dare!" she cried. + +The man's covert glance swept round. Already men were peering out of +doors and windows to see what the shooting was about. Soon the street +would be full of them, all full of deadly fury at him. He backed away, +snarling, cut across a vacant lot, and ran to his room. The bolt in his +door was no sooner closed than he knew it could not protect him. There +comes a time in the career of a large percentage of bad men when some +other hard citizen on behalf of the public puts a period to it. He is +wiped out, not for what he has done only, but for fear also of what he +may do. The only safety for him now was to get out of the country as fast +as a house could carry him. Instinctively Mysterious Pete recognized this +now and cursed his folly for not going straight to a corral. + +If he hurried he might still make his get-away, He reloaded his revolver, +opened the door of his room, and listened. Cautiously he stole downstairs +and out the back door of the building. A little girl was playing at +keeping house in a corner of the yard. Scarcely more than a baby herself, +she was vigorously spanking a doll. + +"Be dood. You better had be dood," she admonished. + +A crafty idea came into the cunning brain of the outlaw. She would serve +as a protection against the bullets of his enemies. He caught her up and +carried her, kicking and screaming, while he ran to the Elephant Corral. + +"Saddle me a horse. Jump!" ordered the fugitive, his revolver out. + +The trembling wrangler obeyed. He did not know the cause of Mysterious +Pete's urgency fact was enough. He knew that this man with the bad record +was flying in fear of his life. Tiny sweat beads stood out on his +forehead. The fellow was in a blue funk and would shoot at the least +pretext. + +The saddle that the wrangler flung on the horse he had roped was a Texas +one with double cinches. In desperate haste to be gone, Champa released +the child a moment to tighten one of the bands. + +A voice called to her. "Run, Kittie." + +To the casual eye the child was all knobby legs and hair ribbons. She +scudded for the stable, sobbing as she ran. + +At sound of that voice Mysterious Pete leaped to the saddle and whirled +his horse. He was too late. The man who had called to Kittie slammed shut +the gate of the corral and laughed tauntingly. + +"Better 'light, Mr. Champa. That caballo you're on happens to be mine." + +Pete needed no introduction. This slight, devil-may-care young fellow at +the gate was Clanton. He was here to fight. The only road of escape was +over his body. + +The gunman slid from the saddle. His instinct for safety still served +him, for he came to the ground with the horse as a shield between him and +his foe. The nine-inch barrel of his revolver rested on the back of the +bronco as he blazed away. A chip flew from the cross-bar of the corral +gate. + +Clanton took no chances. The first shot from his forty-four dropped the +cowpony. Pete backed away, firing as he moved. He flung bullet after +bullet at the figure behind the gate. In his panic he began to think that +his enemy bore a charmed life. Three times his lead struck the woodwork +of the gate. + +The retreating man whirled and dropped, his weapon falling to the dust. +Clanton fired once more to make sure that his work was done, then moved +slowly forward, his eyes focused on the body. A thin wisp of smoke rose +from the revolver lying close to the still hand. + +Mysterious Pete had died with his boots on after the manner of his kind. + + + + +Chapter XXI + +Jim Receives and Declines an Offer + + +From the moment that Clanton walked out of the corral and left the dead +gunman lying in the dust his reputation was established. Up till that +time he had been on probation. Now he was a full-fledged killer. Nobody +any longer spoke of him by his last name, except those friends who still +hoped he might escape his destiny. "Go-Get-'em Jim" was his title at +large. Those on more familiar terms called him "Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em." + +It was unfortunate for Clanton that the killing of Champa lifted him into +instant popularity. Mysterious Pete had been too free with his gun. The +community had been afraid of him. The irresponsible way in which he had +wounded little Bud Proctor, whose life had been saved only by the courage +of Lee Snaith, was the climax of a series of outrages committed by the +man. + +That Jim had incidentally saved Kittie McRobert from the outlaw was a +piece of clean luck. Snaith came to him at once and buried the hatchet. +In the war just starting, the cattleman needed men of nerve to lead his +forces. He offered a place to Clanton, who jumped at the chance to get on +the pay-roll of Lee's father. + +"Bring yore friend Billie Prince to the store," suggested Snaith. "He's +not workin' for Webb now. I can make a place for him, too." + +Billie came, listened to the proposition of the grim old-timer, and +declined quietly. + +"Goin' to stick by Webb, are you?" demanded the chief of the opposite +faction. + +"Anything wrong with that? I've drawn a pay-check from him for three +seasons." + +"Oh, if it's a matter of sentiment." + +As a matter of fact, Billie did not intend to go on the trail any more, +though Webb had offered him a place as foreman of one of his herds. He +had discovered in himself unsuspected business capacity and believed he +could do better on his own. Moreover, he was resolved not to let himself +become involved in the lawless warfare that was engulfing the territory. + +It must be remembered that Washington County was at this time as large as +the average Atlantic Coast State. It had become a sink for the riff-raff +driven out of Texas by the Rangers, for all that wild and adventurous +element which flocks to a new country before the law has established +itself. The coming of the big cattle herds had brought money into the +country, and in its wake followed the gambler and the outlaw. Gold and +human life were the cheapest commodities at Los Portales. The man who +wore a gun on his hip had to be one hundred per cent efficient to +survive. + +Lawlessness was emphasized by the peculiar conditions of the country. The +intense rivalry to secure Government contracts for hay, wood, and +especially cattle, stimulated unwholesome competition. The temptation to +"rustle" stock, to hold up outfits carrying pay to the soldiers, to live +well merely as a gunman for one of the big interests on the river, made +the honest business of every-day life a humdrum affair. + +None the less, the real heroes among the pioneers were the quiet citizens +who went about their business and refused to embroil themselves in the +feuds that ran rife. The men who made the West were the mule-skinners, +the storekeepers, the farmers who came out in white-topped movers' +wagons. For a time these were submerged by the more sensational gunman, +but in the end they pushed to the top and wiped the "bad man" from the +earth. It was this prosaic class that Billie Prince had resolved to join. + +To that resolve he stuck through all the blood-stained years of the +notorious Washington County War. He went about his private affairs with +quiet energy that brought success. He took hay and grain contracts, +bought a freighting outfit, acquired a small but steadily increasing +bunch of cattle. Gradually he bulked larger in the public eye, became an +anchor of safety to whom the people turned after the war had worn itself +out and scattered bands of banditti infested the chaparral to prey upon +the settlers. + +This lean, brown-faced man walked the way of the strong. Men recognized +the dynamic force of his close-gripped jaw, the power of his quick, +steady eye, the patience of his courage. The eyes of women followed him +down the street, for there was some arresting quality in the firm, crisp +tread that carried the lithe, smooth-muscled body. With the passage of +years he had grown to a full measure of mental manhood. It was inevitable +that when Washington County set itself to the task of combing the outlaws +from the mesquite it should delegate the job to Billie Prince. + +The evening after his election as sheriff, Billie called at the home of +Pauline Roubideau, who was keeping house for her brother. Jack Goodheart +was leaving just as Prince stepped upon the porch. It had been two years +now since Jack had ceased to gravitate in the direction of Lee Snaith. +His eyes and his footsteps for many months had turned often toward Polly. + +The gaze of the sheriff-elect followed the lank figure of the retreating +man. + +"I've a notion to ask that man to give up a good business to wear a +deputy's star for me," he told Pauline. + +"Oh, I wouldn't," she said quickly. + +"Why not? He'd be a good man for the job. I want some one game--some one +who will go through when he starts." + +His questioning eyes rested on hers. She felt a difficulty in justifying +her protest. + +"I don't know--I just thought--" + +"I'm waiting," said Prince with a smile. + +"He wouldn't take it, would he?" she fenced. + +"If it was put up to him right I think he would. Of course, it would be a +sacrifice for him to make, but good citizens have to do that these days." + +"He's had so much hard luck and been so long getting a start I don't +think you ought to ask him." The color spilled over her cheeks like wine +shaken from a glass upon a white cloth. Polly was always ardent on behalf +of a friend. + +"I can't help that. There's another man I have in mind, but if I don't +get him it will be up to Jack." + +"Will it be dangerous?" + +"No more than smoking a cigarette above an open keg of powder. But you +don't suppose that would keep him from accepting the job, do you?" + +"No," she admitted. "He would take it if he thought he ought. But I hope +you get the other man." + +Billie dismissed the subject and drew up a chair beside the hammock in +which she was leaning back. + +"This is my birthday, Polly," he told her. "I'm twenty-four years old." + +"Good gracious! What a Methuselah!" + +"I want a present, so I've come to ask for it." + +With a sidelong tilt of her chin she flashed a look of quick eyes at him. +Her voice did not betray the pulse, of excitement that was beginning to +beat in her blood. + +"You've just been elected sheriff. Isn't that enough?" she evaded. + +"That's a fine present to hand a man," he answered grimly. "An' I didn't +notice you bubble with enthusiasm when I spoke of givin' half the glory +to Goodheart." + +"But I haven't a thing you'd care for. If I'd only known in time I'd have +sent to Vegas and got you something nice." + +"You don't have to send to Vegas for it, Polly. The present I want is +right here," he said simply. + +She reached out a little hand impulsively. "Billie, I believe you 're the +best man I know--the very best." + +"I hate to hear that. You're tryin' to let me down easy." + +"I'm an ungrateful little idiot. Any other girl in town would jump at the +chance to say, 'Thank you, kind sir.'" + +"But you can't," he said gently. + +"No, I can't." + +He was not sure whether there was a flash of tears in her brown eyes, but +he knew by that little trick of biting the lower lip that they were not +far away. She was a tender-hearted little comrade, and it always hurt her +to hurt others. + +Billie drew a long breath. "That's settled, too, then. I asked you once +before if there was some one else. I ask you again, but don't tell me if +you'd rather not." + +"Yes." + +"You mean there is." + +Again the scarlet splashed into her cheeks. She nodded her head three or +four times quickly in assent. + +"Not Jim Clanton?" he said, alarmed. + +A faint, tender smile flashed on her lips. "I don't think I'll tell you +who he is, Billie." + +He hesitated. "That's all right, Polly. I don't want to pry into yore +secret. But--don't do anything foolish. Don't marry a man with the notion +of reformin' him or because he seems to you romantic. You have lots of +sense. You'll use it, won't you?" he pleaded. + +"I'll try to use it, Billie," she promised. Then, the soft eyes shining +and the color still high in her cheeks, she added impulsively: "I don't +know anybody that needs some one to love him more than that poor boy +does." + +"Mebbeso. But don't you be that some one, Polly." He hesitated, divided +between loyalty to his friend and his desire for this girl's good. His +brown, unscarred hand caught hers in a firm grip. "Don't you do it, +little girl. Don't you. The woman that marries Jim Clanton is doomed to +be miserable. There's no escape for her. She's got to live with her heart +in her throat till the day they bring his dead body back to her." + +She leaned toward him, and now there was no longer any doubt that her +eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Perhaps a woman doesn't marry for +happiness alone, Billie. That may come to her, or it may not. But she has +to fulfill her destiny. I don't know how to say what I mean, but she must +go on and live her life and forget herself." + +Prince rejected this creed flatly. "No! No! The best way to fulfill yore +life is to be happy. That's what you've always done, an' that's why +you've made other people happy. Because you go around singin' an' +dancin', we all want to tune up with you. When I was out bossin' a +freight outfit I used to think of you at night under the stars as a +little Joybird. Now you've got it in that curly head of yours that you 'd +ought to be some kind of a missionary martyr for the sake of a man's +soul. That's all wrong." + +"Is it?" she asked him with a crooked, little, wistful smile. "How about +you? Do you want to be sheriff? Is it going to make you so awfully happy +to spend your time running down outlaws for the good of the country? +Aren't you doing it because you've been called to it and not because you +like it?" + +"That's different," he protested. "When the community needs him a man's +got to come through or be a yellow hound. But you've got no right to +toss away yore life plumb foolishly just because you've got a tender +heart." Billie stopped again, then threw away any scruples he might have +on the score of friendship. "Jim is goin' to be what he is to the end of +the chapter. You can't change him. Nobody can. In this Washington County +War he's been a terror to the other side. You know that. For such a girl +as you he's outside the pale." + +"I heard Jean say once that Jim had never killed a man that didn't need +killing," she protested. + +"That may be true, too. But it wasn't up to him to do it. It isn't only +killin' either. He's on the wrong track." + +The young man could say no more. He could not tell her that Clanton was +suspected of rustling and that his name had been mentioned in connection +with robbery of the mail. These charges were not proved. Prince himself +still loyally denied their truth, though evidence was beginning to pile +up against the young gunman. He had warned Clanton, and Jim had clapped +him on the shoulder, laughed, and invited him to take a drink with him. +This was not quite the way in which Billie felt an innocent man would +receive news that he was being furtively accused of crime. + +"Yes, he's going wrong," agreed Pauline. "But we can't desert him, can +we? You're his best friend. You know how brave he is, how generous, how +at the bottom of his heart he loves people that are fine and true. If we +stand by him we'll save him yet." + +The young man's common sense told him that Clanton's future lay with +himself and his attitude toward his environment, but he loved the spirit +of this girl's gift of faith in her friends. It was so wholly like her to +reject the external evidence and accept her own conviction of his innate +goodness. + +"I hope yore faith will work a miracle." + +"I hate the things he does more than you do, Billie. It is horrible to me +that he can take human life. I don't justify him at all, even though +usually he is on the right side. But in spite of everything he has done +Jim is only a wild boy. And he's so splendid some ways. Any day he would +give his life for you or for me or for Lee Snaith. You feel that about +him, don't you?" + +"Yes." + +He was not satisfied to let the subject drop, but for the present it had +to be postponed. For a young man and a young woman were turning in at the +gate. They were a handsome pair physically. Each of them moved with the +lithe grace of a young puma. Pauline rose to meet them. + +"I'm glad you came, Lee. Didn't know you were in town, Jim," + +Clanton smiled. "I rode up from the Hondo to congratulate our new +sheriff. Don't you let any of them outlaws escape, Billie." + +Prince looked directly into his audacious eyes as he shook hands with +him. + +"Not if I can help it, Jim. I want you to be my chief deputy in cleanin' +up the county. If you'll help me we'll make such a gather of bad men that +it won't be safe for a crook to show his head here." + +Pauline clapped her hands. "What a splendiferous idea! It's a great +chance for you, Jim. You and Billie can do it too. I know you can." + +The other young woman had recognized Prince only by a casual nod. It was +her custom to ignore him as much as possible. Now her dark, velvety eyes +jumped to meet his, then passed to Clanton. She recognized the +significance of the moment. It was Jim's last opportunity to line up on +the side of law and order. Lee, with Billie and Pauline, had stood his +loyal friend against a growing public opinion. Would he justify their +faith in him? + +After a long silence Jim spoke. "No, I reckon not, Billie. I've got +interests that will take all my time. Much obliged, old scout. I'd like +to ride in couples with you like we used to do. I sure would, but I +can't." + +"That's all nonsense. It's no excuse at all," broke out Lee in her direct +fashion. "Mr. Prince has more important affairs than you a good deal. +He is dropping his to serve the people. You'll have to give a better +reason than that to convince me." + +Billie knew and Lee suspected what lay back of the spoken word. The duty +of the sheriff would be to hunt down the men with whom Clanton had +lately been consorting. He felt that he could not desert his friends to +line up against them. Some of these were a bad lot, the riff-raff of a +wild country, but this would not justify him in his own mind for using +his knowledge of their habits to run them to earth. + +"No, I can't talk business with you, Billie," the young fellow said +decisively. + +"Why can't you?" demanded Lee. + +Jim Clanton smiled. "You're certainly a right persistent young lady, but +by advice of counsel I decline to answer." + + + + +Chapter XXII + +The Rustlers' Camp + + +From Live-Oaks a breakneck trail runs up the side of the mountain, drops +down into the valley beyond, and twists among the hills and through +canons to the Ruidosa. In the darkness a man followed this precarious +path. His horse climbed it like a cat, without the least uncertainty or +doubt. Both mount and rider had covered this ground often during the +Washington County War. Joe Yankie expected to continue to use it as long +as he found a profit in other men's cattle. + +When he had reached the summit he swung to the right, dipped abruptly +into a narrow gulch, skirted a clump of junipers, and looked down upon +a little basin hidden snugly in the gorge. A wisp of pungent smoke rose +to his nostrils. The pony began cautiously the sharp descent. The +escarpment was of disintegrated granite which rang beneath the hoofs of +the animal. A pebble rolled to the edge of the bluff and dropped into the +black pit below. + +From the gulf a challenging voice rose. "Hello, up there!" + +"It's me--Joe," answered the rider. + +"Time you were gettin' here," growled the other, as yet only a voice in +the darkness. + +Slowly the horse slid forward to a ribbon of trail that led less +precipitously to the camp. + +"'Lo, Joe. Fall off an' rest," a one-armed man invited. By the light of +the camp-fire he was a hard-faced, wall-eyed citizen with a jaw like a +steel trap. + +Yankie dismounted and straddled to the fire. "How-how; I'm heap hungry, +boys. Haven't et since mornin'." + +"We're 'most out of grub. Got nothin' but jerked beef an' hard-tack. How +are things a-stackin', Joe?" asked a heavy-set, bow-legged man with +a cold, fishy eye. + +"Looks good, Dave. I'll lead the cattle to you. It'll be up to you an' +Albeen an' Dumont to make a get-away with 'em." + +"Don't you worry none about that. Once I get these beeves on the trail +there can't no shorthorn cattleman take 'em away from me." + +"Oh, you're doin' this thing, are you?" drawled Albeen offensively. +"There's been a heap of big I talk around here lately. First off, I want +to tell you that when you call Homer Webb a shorthorn cattleman you've +got another guess comin'. He's a sure enough old-timer. Webb knocked the +bark off'n this country when it was green, an' you got to rise up early +an' travel fast if you want to slip over anything on him," + +"That's whatever," agreed Yankie. "I don't love the old man a whole lot. +I've stood about all from him I'm intendin' to. One of these days it's +goin' to be him or me. But the old man's there every jump of the road. He +knew New Mexico when Los Portales was a whistlin' post in the desert. +He's fought through this war an' come through richer than when he +started. If I was lookin' for an easy mark I'd sure pass up Webb." + +"He's got you lads buffaloed," jeered Roush. "Webb looks like anybody +else to me. I don't care if he's worth a million. If he fools with me +he'll find I fog him quick." + +"I've known fellows before that got all filled up with talk an' had to +steam off about every so often," commented Albeen to the world at large. + +"Meanin' me?" + +Albeen carefully raked a live coal from the fire and pressed it down into +the bowl of his pipe. The eyes in his leathery, brown face had grown hard +as jade. For some time he and Dave Roush had been ready for an explosion. +It could not come any too soon to suit the one-armed man. + +"Meanin' you if you want to take it that way." Albeen looked straight at +him with an unwinking gaze. "You're not the only man on the reservation +that wears his gun low, Roush. Maybe you're a wolf for fair. I've sure +heard you claim it right often. You're a two-gun man. I pack only one, +seem' as I'm shy a wing. But don't git the notion you can ride me. I +won't stand for it a minute." + +"Sho! Dave didn't mean anything like that. Did you, Dave?" interposed +Dumont hastily. "You was just kind o' jokin', wasn't you?" + +"Well, I'm servin' notice right now that when any one drops around any +jokes about me bein' buffaloed, he's foolin' with dynamite. No man +alive can run a sandy on me an' git away with it." + +The chill eyes of Albeen, narrowed to shining slits, focused on Roush +menacingly. All present understood that he was offering Devil Dave a +choice. He could draw steel, or he could side-step the issue. + +The campers had been playing poker with white navy beans for chips. +Roush, undecided, gathered up in his fingers the little pile of them in +front of him and let them sift down again to the blanket on the edge of +which he sat. Some day he and Albeen would have to settle this quarrel +once for all. But not to-night. Dave wanted the breaks with him when that +hour came. He intended to make a sure thing of it. Albeen was one of +those fire-eaters who would play into his hand by his reckless courage. +Better have patience and watch for his chance against the one-armed +gunman. + +"I ain't aimin' to ride you any, Albeen," he said sulkily. + +"Lay off'n me, then," advised the other curtly. + +Roush grumbled something inaudible. It might have been a promise. It +might have been a protest. Yankie jumped into the breach and began +to talk. + +"I couldn't git away from the old man yesterday. I think he's suspicious +about me. Anyhow, he acts like he is. I came in to Live-Oaks to-night +without notifyin' him an' I got to be back in camp before mornin'. +Here's my plan. I've got a new rider out from Kansas for his health. He's +gun-shy. I'll leave him in charge of this bunch of stock overnight on. +the berrendo. He'll run like a scared deer at the first shot. Hustle the +beeves over the pass an' keep 'em movin' till you come to Lost Cache." + +Crouched over the blanket, they discussed details and settled them. +Yankie rose to leave and Roush followed him to his horse. + +"Don't git a notion I'm scared of Albeen, Joe," he explained. "No +one-armed, hammered-down little runt can bluff me for a second. When I'm +good an' ready I'll settle with him, but I'm not goin' to wreck this +business we're on by any personal difficulty." + +"That's right, Dave," agreed the foreman of the Flying V Y. "We all +understand how you feel." + +Yankie, busy fastening a cinch, had his forehead pressed against the +saddle and could afford a grin. He knew that the courage of a killer is +largely dependent on his physical well-being. If he is cold or hungry or +exhausted, his nerve is at low ebb; if life is running strong in his +arteries his grit is above par. For years Roush had been drinking to +excess. He had reached the point where he dared not face in the open a +man like Albeen with nerves of unflawed steel. The declension of a +gunman, if once it begins, is rapid and sure. One of those days, unless +Roush were killed first, some mild-looking citizen would take his gun +from him and kick him out of a bar-room. + +The foreman traveled fast, but the first streaks of morning were already +lighting the sky when he reached Rabbit Ear Creek, upon which was the +Flying V Y Ranch No. 3 of which he was majordomo. He unsaddled, threw the +bronco into the corral, and walked to the foreman's bunkhouse. Without +undressing, he flung himself upon the bed and fell asleep at one. He +awoke to see a long slant of sunshine across the bare planks of the +floor. + +Some one was hammering on the door. Webb opened it and put in his head +just as the Segundo jumped to his feet. + +"Makin' up some lost sleep, Joe?" inquired the owner of the ranch +amiably. + +"I been out nights a good deal tryin' to check the rustlers," answered +Yankie sullenly. He had been caught asleep in his clothes and it annoyed +him. Would the old man guess that he had been in the saddle all night? + +"Glad to hear you're gettin' busy on that job. They've got to be stopped. +If you can't do it I'll have to try to find a man that can, Joe." + +"Mebbe you think it's an easy job, Webb," retorted the other, a chip on +his shoulder. "If you do it costs nothin' Mex to fire me an' try some +other guy." + +"I don't say you're to blame, Joe. Perhaps you're just unlucky. But the +fact stands that I'm losin' more cattle on this range than at any one of +my other three ranches or all of 'em put together." + +"We're nearer the hills than they are," the foreman replied sulkily. + +"I don't want excuses, but results, Joe. However, I came to talk about +that gather of beeves for Major Strong." + +Webb talked business in his direct fashion for a few minutes, then +strolled away. The majordomo watched him walk down to the corral. He +could not swear to it, but he was none the less sure that the +Missourian's keen eye was fixed upon a sweat-stained horse that had been +traveling the hills all night. + + + + +Chapter XXIII + +Murder from the Chaparral + + +Webb was just leaving for one of his ranches lower down the river when a +horseman galloped up. The alkali dust was caked on his unshaven face and +the weary bronco was dripping with sweat. + +The owner of the Flying V Y, giving some last instructions to the +foreman, turned to listen to the sputtering rider. + +"They--they done run off that bunch of beeves on the berrendo," he +explained, trembling with excitement. + +"Who?" + +"I don't know. A bunch of rustlers. About a dozen of 'em. They tried to +kill me." + +Webb turned to Yankie. "You didn't leave this man alone overnight with +that bunch of beeves for Major Strong?" + +"Sure I did. Why not?" demanded the foreman boldly. + +"We'll not argue that," said the boss curtly, "Go hunt you another job. +You'll draw yore last pay-check from the Flying V Y to-day." + +"If you're loaded up with a notion that some one else could do better--" + +"It's not yore ability I object to, Yankie" cut in the ranchman. + +"Say, what are you insinuatin'?" snarled the segundo. + +"Not a thing, Yankie. I'm tellin' you to yore face that I think you're a +crook. One of these days I'm goin' to land you behind the bars at Santa +Fe. No, don't make another pass like that, Joe. I'll sure beat you to +it." + +Wrayburn had ridden up and now asked the foreman a question about some +calves. + +"Don't ask me. Ask yore boss," growled Yankie, his face dark with fury. + +"Don't ask me either," said Webb. "You're foreman of this ranch, Dad." + +"Since when?" asked the old Confederate. + +"Since right this minute. I've fired Yankie." + +Dad chewed his cud of tobacco without comment. He knew that Webb would +tell him all he needed to know. + +"Says I'm a waddy! Says I'm a crook!" burst out the deposed foreman. +"Wish you joy of yore job, Wrayburn. You'll have one heluva time." + +"You will if Yankie can bring it about," amended the cattleman. He spoke +coldly and contemptuously just as if the man were not present. "I've +made up my mind, Dad, that he's in cahoots with the rustlers." + +"Prove it! Prove it!" demanded the accused man, furious with anger at +Webb's manner. + +The ranch-owner went on talking to Wrayburn in an even voice. "I've +suspected it for some time. Now I'm convinced. Yesterday mornin' I found +him asleep in bed with his clothes on. His horse looked like it had been +travelin' all night. I made inquiries. He went to Live-Oaks an' was seen +to take the trail to the Ruidosa. Why?" + +"You've been spyin' on me," charged Yankie. He was under a savage desire +to draw his gun but he could not shake off in a moment the habit of +subordination bred by years of service with this man. + +"To let his fellow thieves know that he meant to leave a bunch of beef +steers on the berrendo practically unguarded. That's why. I'd bet a stack +of blues on it. You'll have to watch this fellow, Dad." + +The new foreman took his cue from the boss. None the less, he meant just +what he said. "You better believe I'll watch him. I've had misgivin's +about him for a right smart time." + +"He'll probably ride straight to his gang of rustlers. Well, he can't do +us half as much harm there as here." + +"I'll git you both. Watch my smoke. Watch it." With a curse the rustler +swung his horse round and gave it the spur. Poison hate churned in his +heart. At the bend of the road he turned and shook a fist at them both. + +"There goes one good horse an' saddle belongin' to me," said Webb, +smiling ruefully. "But if I never get them back it's cheap at the price. +I'm rid of one scoundrel." + +"I wonder if you are, Homer," mused his friend. "Maybe you'd better have +let him down easy. Joe Yankie is as revengeful as an Injun." + +"Let him down easy!" exploded the cattleman. "When he's just pulled off a +raw deal by which I lose a bunch of forty fat three-year-olds. I ought +to have gunned him in his tracks." + +"If you had proof, but you haven't. It's a right doubtful policy for a +man to stir up a rattler till it's crazy, then to turn it loose in his +bedroom." + +The Missourian turned to the business of the hour. "We'll get a posse out +after the rustlers right away. Dad. I'll see the boys an' you hustle +up some rifles and ammunition." + +Half an hour later they saw the dust of the cowpunchers taking the trail +for the berrendo. + +"I'll ride down an' get Billie Prince started after 'em. I can go with +his posse as a deputy," suggested the ranchman. + +To save Webb's time, Dad rode a few miles with him while the cattleman +outlined to him the policy he wanted pursued. + +The sun was high in the heavens when they met, not far from Ten Sleep, a +rider. The cattleman looked at him grimly. In the Washington County +War just ended, this young fellow had been the leading gunman of the +Snaith-McRobert faction. If the current rumors were true he was now +making an easy living in the chaparral. + +The rider drew up, nodded a greeting to Wrayburn, and grinned with cool +nonchalance at Webb. He knew from report in what esteem he was held +by the owner of the Flying V Y brand. + +"Yankie up at the ranch?" he asked. + +"What do you want with him?" demanded Webb brusquely. + +"I got a message for him." + +"Who from?" + +Clanton was conscious of some irritation against this sharp catechism. In +point of fact Billie Prince had asked him to notify Yankie that he had +heard of the rustling on the berrendo and was taking the trail at once. +But Go-Get-'Em Jim was the last man in the world to be driven by +compulsion. He had been ready to tell Webb the message Billie had given +him for Yankie, but he was not ready to tell it until the Missourian +moderated his tone. + +"Mebbe that's my business--an' his, Mr. Webb," he said. + +"An' mine too--if you've come to tell him how slick you pulled that trick +on the berrendo." + +Jim stiffened at once. "To Halifax with you an' yore cattle, Webb. Do you +claim I rustled that bunch of beeves last night?" + +"I see you know all about it?" retorted Webb with heavy sarcasm. + +"Mebbeso. I'm not askin' yore permission to live--not just yet." + +Webb flushed dark with anger. "You've got a nerve, young fellow, to go up +to my ranch after last night's business. Unless you want to have yore +pelt hung up to dry, keep away from any of the Flying V Y ranges. As for +Yankie, if you go back to yore hole you'll likely find him. I kicked the +hound out two hours ago." + +"Like you did me three years ago," suggested Clanton, looking straight at +the grizzled cowman. "Webb, you're the high mogul here since you fixed +it up with the Government to send its cavalry to back yore play against +our faction. You act like we've got to knock our heads in the dust three +times when we meet up with you. Don't you think it. Don't you think it +for a minute. If I've rustled yore cattle, prove it. Until then padlock +yore tongue, or you an' me'll mix it." + +"You're threatenin' me, eh?" + +"If that's what you want to call it." + +"You're a killer, I'm told," flashed back Webb hotly. "Now listen to me. +You an' yore kind belong in the penitentiary, an' that's where the honest +folks of Washington County are goin' to send you soon. Give me half a +chance an' I'll offer a reward of ten thousand dollars for you alive or +dead. That's the way to get rid of gunmen." + +"Is it?" Clanton laughed mockingly. "You advise the fellow that tries to +collect that reward to get his life insured heavy for his widow." + +If this was a boast, it was also a warning. Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em may not +have been the best target shot on the border, but give him a man behind a +spitting revolver as his mark and he could throw bullets with swifter, +deadlier accuracy than any old-timer of them all. He did not take the +time to aim; it was enough for him to look at his opponent as he fired. + +The young fellow swung his horse expertly and cantered into the mesquite. + +"I'll give you two months before you're wiped off the map," the cattleman +called after him angrily. + +At the edge of a heavy growth of brush Clanton pulled up, flashed a +six-shooter, and dropped two bullets in the dust at the feet of the +horses in the road. Then, with a wave of his hand, he laughed derisively +and plunged into the chaparral. + +Webb, stung to irritable action, fired into the cholla and the arrowweed +thickets. Shot after shot he sent at the man who had disappeared in the +maze. + +"Let him go. Homer. You're well quit of him," urged Wrayburn. + +The words were still on his lips when out of the dense tangle of +vegetation rang a shot. The owner of the Flying VY clutched at his +saddle-horn. A spasmodic shudder shook the heavy body and it began to +sink. + +Wrayburn ran to help. He was in time to catch his friend as he fell, but +before he could lower the inert weight to the ground the life of Homer +Webb had flickered out. + + + + +Chapter XXIV + +Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em Leaves a Note + + +Prince and his posse were camped in a little park near the headquarters +of Saco de Oro Creek when a trapper brought word to Billie of the death +of Webb. The heart of the young sheriff sank at the news. It was not only +that he had always liked and admired the bluff cattleman. What shocked +him more was that Jim Clanton had killed him. Webb was one of the most +popular ranchmen on the river. There would be an instant, widespread +demand for the arrest and conviction of his slayer. Billie had taken an +oath to uphold the law. His clear duty was to go out and capture Jim +alive or dead. + +Not for a moment did Billie doubt what he would do. He had pledged +himself to blot out the "bad man," and he would go through no matter what +the cost to his personal feelings. + +A slow anger at Clanton burned in him. Why had he done this wanton and +lawless thing? The boy he had known three years ago would never have shot +down from cover a man like Webb. That he could have done it now marked +the progress of the deterioration of his moral fiber. What right had he +to ask those who remained loyal to him to sacrifice so often their sense +of right in his favor? + +The old intimacy between Billie and Jim had long since waned. They were +traveling different roads these days. But though they were no longer +chums their friendship endured. When they met, a warm affection lit the +eyes of both. It had survived the tug of diverse interests, the +intervention of long separations, the conflict born of the love of women. +Would it stand without breaking this new test of its strength? + +With a little nod to Goodheart the sheriff retired from the camp-fire. +His deputy joined him presently on a hillside overlooking the creek. + +"I'm goin' back to Live-Oaks to-night, Jack," announced Prince. "You'd +better stay here a few days an' hunt through these gulches. Since that +rain yesterday there's not one chance in fifty of runnin' down the +rustlers, but you might happen to stumble on the place where they've got +the cattle cached." + +"You're goin' down about this Webb murder?" + +"Yes. I'm goin' to work out some plans. It will take some strategy to +land Clanton. He's lived out in the hills for years and he knows every +foot of cover in the country." + +Goodheart assented. To go blindly out into the mesquite after the young +outlaw would have been as futile as to reach a hand toward the stars with +the hope of plucking a gold-piece from the air. + +"Watch the men he trains with. Keep an eye on the Elephant Corral an' +check up on him when he rides in to Los Portales. Spot the tendejon at +Point o' Rocks where he has a hang-out. Unless he has left the country +he'll show up one of these days." + +"That's what I think, Jack, an' I'm confident he hasn't gone. He has a +reason for stayin' here." + +Goodheart could have put a name to the reason. It was a fair enough +reason to have held either him or the sheriff under the same +circumstances. + +"How about a reward? He trains with a crowd I'd hate to trust farther +than I could throw a bull by the tail. Some of 'em would sell their own +mothers for gold." + +"I'll get in touch with Webb's family an' see if they won't offer a big +reward for information leading to the arrest of the murderer." + +Within the week every crossroads store in the county had tacked to it a +placard offering a reward of five thousand dollars for the man who had +killed Homer Webb. + +No applications for it came in at first. + +"Wait," said Goodheart, smiling. "More than one yellow dog has licked its +jaws hungrily before that poster. Some dark night the yellowest one will +sneak in here to see you." + +On the main street of Los Portales one evening Billie met Pauline +Roubideau. She came at him with a direct frontal attack. + +"I've had a letter from Jim Clanton." + +The sheriff did not ask her where it was post-marked. He did not want any +information from Polly as to the whereabouts of her friend. + +"You're one ahead of me then. I haven't," answered Prince. + +"He says he didn't do it." + +"Do what?" + +"Shoot Mr. Webb. And I know he didn't if he says he didn't." + +The grave eyes of the young man met hers. "But Dad Wrayburn was there. He +saw the whole affair." + +Pauline brushed this aside with superb faith. "I don't care. Jim never +lied to me in his life. I know he didn't do it--and it makes me so glad." + +The young man envied her the faith that could reject evidence as though +it did not exist. The Jim Clanton she had once known would not have lied +to her. Therefore the Jim Clanton she knew now was worthy of perfect +trust. If there was any flaw in that logic the sweet and gallant heart of +the girl did not find it. + +But Billie had talked with Dad Wrayburn. He had ridden out and gone over +the ground with a fine-tooth comb. Webb had been killed by a bullet +from a forty-four. Of his own knowledge Prince knew that Clanton was +carrying a weapon of this caliber only three hours before the killing. +There was no escape from the conviction of the guilt of his friend. + +The sheriff walked back to the hotel where he was staying. On the way his +mind was full of the young woman he had just left. He had never liked +her better, never admired her more. But, somehow--and for the first time +he realized it--there was no longer any sting in the thought of her. He +did not have to fight against any unworthy jealousy because of her +interest in Clanton. Of late he had been very busy. It struck him now +that his mind had been much less preoccupied with the thought of her than +it used to be. He supposed there was such a thing as falling out of love. +Perhaps he was in process of doing that now. + +Bud Proctor, a tall young stripling, met Prince on the porch of the +hotel. + +"Buck Sanders was here to see you, sheriff," the boy said. + +Since the days when he had been segundo of the Snaith-McRobert outfit +Sanders had declined in the world. Like many of his kind he had taken to +drink, become bitten with the desire to get rich without working, and +operated inconspicuously in the chaparral with a branding iron. Much +water had poured down the bed of the Pecos in the past three years. The +disagreement between him and Clanton had long since been patched up and +they had lately been together a great deal. + +Prince went up to his room, threw off his coat, and began to prepare some +papers he had to send to the Governor. He was interrupted by a knock +at the door. + +Sanders opened at the sheriff's invitation, shoved in his head, looked +around the room warily, and sidled in furtively. He closed the door. + +"Mind if I lock it?" he asked. + +The sheriff nodded. His eyes fixed themselves intently on the man. "Go as +far as you like." + +The visitor hung his hat over the keyhole and moved forward to the table. +His close-set eyes gripped those of the sheriff. + +"What about this reward stuff?" he asked harshly. + +An instant resentment surged up in Billie's heart. He knew now why this +fellow had come to see him secretly. It was his duty to get all the +information he could about Clanton. He had to deal with this man who +wanted to sell his comrade, but he did not relish the business. + +"You can read, can't you, Sanders?" he asked ungraciously. + +"Where's the money?" snarled his guest. + +"It's in the bank." + +"Sure?" + +From his pocket-book Billie took a bank deposit slip. He put it on the +table where the other man could look it over. + +"Would a man have to wait for the reward until Clanton was convicted?" +the traitor asked roughly. + +"A thousand would be paid as soon as the arrest was made, the rest when +he was convicted," said Prince coldly. + +"Will you put that in writin', Mr. Sheriff?" + +The chill eyes of the officer drilled into those of the rustler. He drew +a pad toward him and wrote a few lines, then shoved the tablet of paper +toward Sanders. The latter tore off the sheet and put it in his pocket. + +Sanders spoke again, abruptly. "Understand one thing, Prince. I don't +have to take part in the arrest. I only tell you where to find him." + +"And take me to the spot," added the sheriff, "I'll do the arrestin'." + +"Whyfor must I take you there if I tell you where to go?" + +"You want a good deal for your white alley, Sanders," returned the other +contemptuously. "I'm to take all the chances an' you are to drag down the +reward. That listens good. Nothin' to it. You'll ride right beside me; +then if anything goes wrong, you'll be where I can ask you questions." + +"Do you think I'm double-crossin' you? Is that it?" flushed the +ex-foreman of the Lazy S M. + +"I don't know. It might be Clanton you're double-crossin', or it might be +me," said the sheriff with cynical insolence. "But if I'm the bird you've +made a poor choice. In case we're ambushed, you'll be in nice, easy reach +of my gun." + +"Do I look like a fool?" snapped Sanders. "I'm out for the dough. I'm +takin' you to Clanton because I need the money." + +"Mebbeso. You won't need it long if you throw me down." Then abruptly, +the sheriff dropped into the manner of dry business. "Get down to tacks, +man. Where is Clanton's hang-out?" + +Buck sat down and drew a sketch roughly on the tablet. "Cross the river +at Blazer's Ford, cut over the hills to Ojo Caliente, an' swing to the +east. He's about four miles from Round Top in an old dugout. Maybe +you've heard of Saguaro Canon. Well, he's holed up in a little gulch +runnin' into it." + +By daybreak next morning the sheriff's posse was in the saddle. In +addition to Sanders, who rode beside Billie unarmed, Goodheart and two +special deputies made up the party. + +The sun was riding high when they reached Ojo Caliente. The party bore +eastward, following a maze of washes, arroyos, and gorges. It was well +into the afternoon when the informer ventured a suggestion. + +"We're close enough. Better light here an' sneak forward on foot," the +man said gruffly. + +As he swung from the horse Billie smiled grimly. He had a plan of his own +which he meant to try. Buck Sanders might not like it, but he was not in +a position to make any serious objection. + +They crept forward to a rim rock above a heavily wooded slope. A +tongue-shaped grove ran down close to the edge of a narrow gulch. + +Prince explained what he meant to do. "We'll all snake down closer. When +I give the word you'll go forward alone, Sanders, an' call Jim out. Ask +him to come forward an' look at yore bronco's hoof. That's all you'll +have to do." + +Sanders voiced a profane and vigorous protest. "Have you forgot who this +guy is you're arrestin'? Go-Get-'Em Jim is no tenderfoot kid. He's chain +lightnin' on the shoot. If he suspects me one steenth part of a second, +that will be long enough for him to gun me good." + +"He'll not have a chance. We'll have him covered all the time." + +"Say, we agreed you was goin' to make this arrest, not me." + +"I'll make it. All you've got to do is to call him out." + +"All!" shrieked Sanders. "You know damned well I'm takin' the big risk." + +"That's the way I intended it to be," the sheriff assured him coolly. +"You're to get the reward, aren't you?" + +The rustler balked. He polluted the air with low, vicious curses, but in +the end he had to come to time. + +They slipped through the grove till they could see on the edge of the +ravine a dug-out. Prince flashed a handkerchief as a signal and Sanders +rode down in the open skirting the timber. He swung from the saddle and +shouted a "Hello, in the house!" + +No answer came. Buck called a second and a third time. He waited, +irresolute. He could not consult with Prince. At last he moved toward the +house and entered. Presently he returned to the door and waved to the +sheriff to come forward. + +Very cautiously the posse accepted the invitation, but every foot of the +way Billie kept the man covered. + +Sanders ripped out a furious oath. "He's done made his get-away. Some one +must 'a' warned him." + +He held out to Prince a note scrawled on a piece of wrapping-paper. It +was in Clanton's pell-mell, huddled chirography:-- + +Sorry I can't stay to entertain you, Billie. Make yourself at home. Bacon +and other grub in a lard can by the creek. Help yourself. + +Crack Sanders one on the bean with your six-gun on account for me. + +JIMMIE-GO-GET-'EM. + + + + +Chapter XXV + +The Mal-Pais + + +Billie Prince laughed. The joke was on him, but he was glad of it. As +sheriff of Washington County it had been his duty to accept any aid that +might come from the treachery of Sanders; but as a friend of Jim Clanton +he did not want to win over him by using such weapons. + +"Tickled to death, ain't you?" snapped the ex-foreman sourly. "Looks to +me like you didn't want to make this arrest, Mr. Sheriff. Looks to me +like some one else has been doin' some double-crossin' besides me." + +"Naturally _you'd_ think that," cut in Goodheart dryly. "The facts +probably are that Go-Get-'Em Jim, knowin' his friends pretty well, had +you watched, found out you called on the sheriff, an' guessed the rest. +He's not a fool, you know." + +"That's right. Git ready an alibi," Sanders snarled. + +Casually Goodheart picked up the piece of wrapping-paper upon which the +note had been written. He read aloud the last sentence. + +"'Crack Sanders one on the bean with your six-gun on account for me.' +Seems to me if I was you, Buck, I'd alibi myself down the river into +Texas as quick as I could jog a bronco along. But, of course, I don't +know yore friend Go-Get-'Em as well as you do. Mebbe you'll be able to +explain it to him. Tell him you were hard up an' needed the money." + +The eyes of the rustler flashed from Goodheart to the sheriff. They were +full of sinister suspicion. Had these men arranged to deliver him into +the hands of Clanton? Was he himself going to fall into the pit he had +dug? + +"Gimme back my gun an' I'm not afraid of him or any of you," he bluffed. + +"You'll get yore gun when we reach Los Portales," Prince told him. "I +left it in my office." + +"I ain't goin' to Los Portales." + +"All right. Leave yore address and I'll send the gun by the buckboard +driver." + +All the baffled hate and cupidity of Sanders glared out of his wolfish +face. "I'll let you know later where I'm at." + +He straddled out of the house, pulled himself astride the waiting horse, +and rode up the hill. Presently he disappeared over the crest. + +"Much obliged, Jack," said Prince, smiling. "Exit Mr. Buck Sanders from +New Mexico. Our loss is Texas's gain. Chalk up one bad man emigrated +from Washington County." + +"He's sure goin' to take my advice," agreed the lank deputy. A little +chuckle of amusement escaped from his throat. "To the day of his death +he'll think we sent word to Go-Get-'Em Jim. I'll bet my next pay-check +against a dollar Mex that he forgets to send you that address." + +Billie availed himself of the invitation of Clanton to make himself at +home. He and his posse spent the night in the dug-out and returned to Los +Portales next day. For the better part of a week he was detained there on +business, after which he took the stage to Live-Oaks. + +News was waiting for Prince at the county seat that led him for a time to +forget the existence of Clanton. The buckboard driver from El Paso +reported the worst sand-storm he had ever encountered. It had struck him +a mile or two this side of the Mal-Pais, as the great lava beds in the +Tularosa Basin are commonly called. He had unhitched the horses, +overturned the buckboard, and huddled in the shelter of the bed. There he +had lain crouched for ten hours while the drifting sand, fine as powder, +blotted out the world and buried him in drifts. He was an old plainsman, +tough as leather, and he had weathered the storm safely. A full day late +he staggered into Live-Oaks a sorry sight. + +The news that shook Live-Oaks into swift activity had to do with Lee +Snaith. Just before the storm hit him the buckboard driver had met her +riding toward the Mal-Pais. + +Prince arrived to find the town upside down with the confusion of +preparation. Swiftly he brought order out of the turmoil. He organized +the rescue party, assigned leaders to the divisions, saw that each man +was properly outfitted, and mapped off the territory to be covered by +each posse. Outwardly he was cool, efficient, full of hopeful energy. But +at his heart Billie felt an icy clutch of despair. What chance was there +for Lee, caught unsheltered in the open, when the wiry, old Indian +fighter, protected by his wagon, had barely won through alive? + +Every horse in Live-Oaks that could be ridden was in the group that +melted into the night to find Lee Snaith. Every living soul left in the +little town was on the street to cheer the rescuers. + +The sheriff divided his men. Most of them were to spend the night, and if +necessary the next day and night, in combing the sand desert east of the +Mal-Pais. Here Lee had last been seen, and here probably she had wandered +round and round until the storm had beaten her down. It took little +imagination to vision the girl, flailed by the sweeping sand, bewildered +by it, choked at every gasping breath, hopelessly lost in the tempest. + +Yet some bell of hope rang in Billie's breast. She might have reached the +lava. If so, there was a chance that she might be alive. For though the +wind had sweep enough here, the fine dust-sand of the alluvial plain +could not be carried so densely into this rock-sea. Perhaps she had +slipped into a fissure and found safety. + +For fifty miles this great igneous bed stretches, a rough and broken sea +of stone, across the thirsty desert. Its texture is like that of slag +from a furnace. Once, in the morning of the world, it flowed from the +crater along the line of least resistance, a vitreous river of fire. In a +great molten mass it swept into the valleys, crawling like a great snake +here and there, pushing fiery tongues into every crevice of the hills. + +The margin of its flow is a cliff or steep slope varying in height from a +few feet to that of a good-sized tree. Between the silt plain and the +general level of its bed rises a terrace. In front of it Prince stopped +and distributed the men he had reserved to search the lava bed. He gave +definite, peremptory orders. + +"We'll keep about two hundred yards apart. Every twenty minutes each of +you will fire his revolver. If any of you find Miss Snaith or any +evidence of her, shoot three times in rapid succession. Each of you pass +the signal down the line by firing four shots. Those who hear the three +shots go in as fast as you can to the rescue. The others--those farther +away, who hear the four shots only--will turn an' work back to the plain, +continuing to fire once every twenty minutes. Do exactly as I tell you, +boys. If you don't, some one will be lost an' may never get out alive. If +any one of you gets out of touch with the rest of us, stay right where +you are till mornin', then come out by the sun." + +The horses were left in charge of a Mexican boy. The surface of the +deposit is so broken that even a man on foot has difficulty in traversing +it. Prince crawled forward from the terrace up the rough slope of the +cliff which at this point bounded it. At the top of the rim he rose and +came face to face with another man. + +"A good deal like frozen hell, Billie," the other said casually. + +"Where did you come from?" demanded the sheriff, amazed. + +Jim Clanton laughed grimly. "I've been with yore party half an hour. Why +shouldn't I be here when Lee Snaith is lost?" + +"You were hiding in Live-Oaks?" + +"Mebbeso. Anyway, I'm here. I'll take the right flank, Billie." + +"Do you think there's a chance, Jim?" The voice of Prince shook with +emotion. It was the first sign of distress he had given. + +Clanton reflected just a moment before he answered. "I think there's just +a chance. She saved our lives once, Billie. If she's alive we'll find +her, you an' me." + +"By God, yes." Prince turned away. He could not talk about it without +breaking down. + +In the stress of a great shock Billie had made a vital discovery. The +most important thing that would ever come to him in life was to find Lee +Snaith alive. How blind he had been! He could see her now in imagination, +as in reality he had seen her a hundred times, moving in the sun-pour +with elastic tread, full-throated and deep-chested, athrob with life in +every generous vein. How passionately she had loved things brave and +true! How anger had flamed up in her like fire among tow at meanness and +hypocrisy. Surely all the beauty of her person, the fineness of her +character, could not be blotted out so wantonly. If there was any economy +in his world God would never permit waste like that. + +He wanted her. His soul cried out for her. and stormily he prayed that he +might find her alive and well, that the chance might still be given him +to tell her how much he loved her. + +Sometimes he covered small distances where the flow structure was +comparatively smooth, broken only by minor irregularities. Again he came +to abrupt pits, deep caverns, tumbled heaps of broken slabs, or jagged +chunks of lava twisted into strange shapes. No doubt the volcanic flow +had hardened to a crust on top, cracked, and sunk into the furnace below. +This process must have gone on indefinitely. + +He crept from slab to slab, pulled himself across chasms, worked slowly +forward in the darkness. At intervals he fired and listened for an +answer. Occasionally there drifted to him the sound of a shot from one of +the other searchers. As the hours passed and brought to him no signal +that the girl had been found, his hopes ebbed. It was very unlikely that +she could have wandered so far into the bad lands as this. + +He shuddered to think of her alone in this vast tomb of death. Suppose +she were here and they never found her. Suppose she were asleep when he +passed, worn out by terror and exhaustion. His voice grew hoarse from +shouting. Sometimes, when the thought of her fate would become an agony +to him, he could hardly keep his shout from rising to a scream. + +Billie struck a match and looked at his watch. It was five minutes past +three. A faint gray was beginning to sift into the sky. He had been +nearly seven hours in the Mal-Pais. Out in God's country the world would +soon be shaking sleep from its eyes. In this death zone there was neither +waking nor sleeping. "Frozen hell," Clanton had called it. Prince +shuddered. + +The flare of the match had showed him that he was standing close to the +edge of a fissure. In the darkness he could not see to the bottom of it. + +A faint breath of a whimper floated to him. He grew rigid, every nerve +taut. He dared not let himself believe it could be real. Of course he was +imagining sounds. Presently, no doubt, he would hear voices. In this +devil's caldron a man could not stay quite sane. + +Again, as if from below his feet, was lifted a strangled, little sob. + +"Lee!" he called huskily with what was left of his voice. + +Something in the cavern moved. By means of outcropping spars of rock he +lowered himself swiftly. + +The darkness was Stygian. He struck another match. + +From the gloom beyond the space lit by the small flame came the rustle of +something stirring. The match burned out. He lit another and groped +forward. His foot struck an impediment. + +He looked down into the startled eyes and white face of Lee Snaith. + + + + +Chapter XXVI + +A Dust-Storm + + +It had been a beautiful day of sunshine when Lee left Live-Oaks to ride +to the Ninety-Four Ranch. Not a breath of wind stirred. The desert slept +in a warm, golden bath. It was peaceful as old age. + +But as the sun slipped past the meridian, gusts swept across the sands +and whipped into the air inverted cones that whirled like vast tops in a +wild race to nowhere. The air waves became more frequent and more +furious. When Lee passed the buckboard driver, the whole desert seemed +alive with stinging sand. + +He called something to her that was lost in the wind. The girl waved at +him a gauntleted hand. She had been out in dust-storms before and was not +in the least alarmed. Across the lower part of her face she had tied a +silk handkerchief to protect her mouth and nostrils from the sand. + +The mail carrier had scarcely disappeared before the fury of the wind +increased. It lashed the ground with heavy whips, raging and screaming in +shrill, whistling frenzy, until the desert rose in terror and began to +shift. + +Lee bent her head to escape the sand that filled her eyes and nostrils +and beat upon her cheeks so unmercifully. She thought perhaps the tempest +would abate soon and she slipped from the saddle to crouch close to the +body of the horse for protection. Instead of decreasing, the gale rose to +a hurricane. It was as if the whole sand plain was in continuous, +whirling motion. + +The horse grew frightened and restless. It was a young three-year-old Jim +Clanton had broken for her. Somehow--Lee did not know quite the way +it happened--the bridle rein slipped from her fingers and the colt was +gone. + +She ran after the pony--called to it frantically--fought in pursuit +against the shrieking blasts. The animal disappeared, swallowed in the +whirl-wind that encompassed her and it. Lee sank down, sheltering her +face with her arms against the pelting sand sleet. + +But years in the outdoor West had given Lee the primal virtue, courage. +She scorned a quitter, one who lay down or cried out under punishment. +Now she got to her feet and faced the storm. The closeness of her +horizon--her outstretched arms could almost touch the limit of +it--confused the mind of the girl. She no longer knew east from west, +north from south. With a sudden sinking of the heart she realized that +she was lost in this gray desert blizzard. + +Blindly she chose a direction and plunged forward. At times the wind hit +her like a moving wall and flung her to the ground. She would lie there +panting for a few moments, struggle to her knees, and creep on till in a +lull she could again find her feet. + +How much of this buffeting, she wondered, could one endure and live? The +air was so filled with dust that it was almost impossible to get a +breath. Her muscles ached with the flogging they were receiving. She was +so exhausted, her forces so spent, that the hinges of her knees buckled +under her. + +One of her feet struck against a rise in the ground and she stumbled. She +lay there motionless for what seemed a long time before it penetrated her +consciousness that one of her palms pained from a jagged cut the fall had +caused. Her body lay on sharp-pointed rocks. As far as they could reach, +the groping fingers of the girl found nothing but hard, rough stone. +Then, in a flash, the truth came to her. She had reached the Mal-Pais. + +She crept across the lava in an effort to escape the strangling wind. Its +rage followed her, drove the girl deeper into the bad lands. A renewal of +hope urged her on. In its rough terrain she might find shelter from the +tornado. In short stages, with rests between, she pushed into the +vitreous lake, dragged herself up from the terrace, fought forward +doggedly for what seemed to her an age. + +A crevice barred the way. The fissure was too wide to step across and was +perhaps ten feet deep. Lee slid into it, slipped, and fell the last step +or two of the descent. She lay where she had fallen, too worn out to +move. + +It must have been almost at once that she fell asleep. + +The stars were out when she awakened, her muscles stiff and aching from +the pressure of her weight upon the rock. The girl lay for a minute +wondering where she was. Above was a narrow bar of starlit sky. The walls +of her pit of refuge were within touch of her finger tips. Then memory of +the storm and her escape from it flashed back to her. + +She climbed easily the rough side of the cavern and looked around. The +wind had died so that not even a murmur of it remained. As far as the eye +could see the lava flow extended without a break. But she knew the cavern +in which she had slept lay at a right angle to the line of her advance. +All site had to do was to face forward and keep going till she reached +the plain. The reasoning was sound, but it was based on a wrong premise. +Lee had clambered out of the fissure on the opposite side from that by +which she had entered. Every step she took now carried her farther into +the bad lands. + +Morning broke to find her completely at sea. Even the boasted weather of +the Southwest played false. A drizzle of rain was in the air. Not until +late in the afternoon did the sun show at all and by that time the +wanderer was so deep in the Mal-Pais that when night closed down again +she was still its prisoner. + +She was hungry and fagged. The soles of her boots were worn out and her +feet were badly blistered. Again she took refuge in a deep crevice for +the night. + +The loneliness appalled her. No living creature was to be seen. In all +this awful desolation she was alone. Her friends at Live-Oaks would think +she was at the Ninety-Four Ranch. Even if they searched for her she would +never be found. After horrible suffering she would die of hunger and +thirst. She broke down at last and wept herself to sleep. + + + + +Chapter XXVII + +"A Lucky Guy" + + +Lee had the affrighted look of one roused suddenly from troubled dreams. +The whimper that had drawn the attention of Prince must have come from +her restless, tortured sleep. Not till his second match flared had she +been really awake. + +"Thank God!" he cried brokenly, all the pent emotion of the long night +vibrant in his tremulous voice. + +She began to sob, softly, pitifully. + +The match went out, but even in the blackness of the pit he could not +escape the look of suffering he had seen on her face. Her habit was to do +all things with high spirit. He could guess how much she had endured to +bring those hollow shadows under her dusky eyes. The woe of the girl +touched his heart sharply, as if with the point of a rapier. + +He stooped, lifted her gently, and gathered her like a hurt child into +his arms. "You poor lost lamb," he murmured. And again he cried, "Thank +God, I came in time." + +Her arms crept round his neck. She clung to him for safety, fearfully, +lest even now he might vanish from her sight. Long, ragged sobs shook the +body resting in his arms. He whispered words of comfort, stroked gently +the dark head of blue-black hair, held her firmly so that she might know +she had found a sure refuge from the fate that had so nearly devoured +her. + +The spasmodic quivering of the body died away. She dabbed at her eyes +with a rag of a handkerchief and withdrew herself from his arms. + +"I'm a nice baby," she explained with a touch of self-contempt. "But it's +been rather awful, Billie. I ... I didn't know whether ..." + +"It's been the worst night of my life," he agreed. "I've been in hell for +hours, dear. If--if anything had happened to you--" + +The heart of the girl beat fast. She told herself he did not mean--could +not mean what, with a sudden warmth of joy, her soul hunger had read +into his words. + +Prince uncorked his canteen and she drank. He gave her sandwiches and she +devoured them. After he had helped her from the fissure he fired three +shots. Faintly from the left came the answering bark of a revolver. What +might almost have been an echo of it drifted from the right. + +Lee Snaith was the most competent young woman the sheriff had ever met. +He knew her self-reliant and had always guessed her sufficient to +herself. Toward him especially he had sensed a suggestion of cool +hostility. They had been friends, but with a distinct note of reservation +on her part. + +To-night the mask was off. She had come too close to raw reality to think +of her pride. The morning light was sifting into the sky now. Billie +could see the girl more clearly as she sat on a slab of rock waiting for +the other searchers to join them. Was it his imagination that found in +her an unwonted shyness of the dark eyes, a gentle timidity of manner +when she looked at him? + +His emotion still raced at high tide. What an incomparable mate she would +be for any man! The rich contralto of her voice, the slow, graceful turn +of the exquisite head, the vividness she brought to all her activities! +How easy it was to light in her fine eyes laughter, indignation, the rare +smile of understanding! Life with her would be an adventure into the +hill-tops. With all his heart he yearned to take it beside her. + +There were strange flashes in his eyes to-night that signaled to her a +message she had despaired of ever receiving. The long lashes of the girl +fell to the hot cheeks. A pulse of excitement beat in her blood. A few +minutes before she had clung to him despairingly. Now she wanted to run +away and hide. + +He stepped close to her and let his hand fall lightly on her arm. + +"I've been blind all these years, Lee," he told her. "It's you I love." + +She stole a little look at him with shy, incredulous eyes. "Have you +forgotten--Polly?" + +"I haven't been in love with her for years, but I didn't know it till +about the Christmas holidays. She was a habit with me. There never was +a sweeter girl than Polly Roubideau. I'll always think a heap of her. +But--well, she had more sense than I had--knew all the time we weren't +cut out for each other." He laughed a little, flushing with +embarrassment. It is not the easiest thing in the world to explain to a +girl why you have neglected her in favor of another. + +Lee trembled. The desire was strong in her to seize her happiness while +she could. Surely she had waited long enough for it. But some impulse of +fair play to him or of justice to herself held back the tide of love she +longed to release. + +"I think ... you are impulsive," she said at last. "If you have anything +you want to tell me, better wait until ..." + +"Not another moment!" he cried. "I've been in torment all night. I ... I +thought I'd lost you forever. You don't care for me, of course. You +never have liked me very well, but--" + +"Haven't I?" she breathed softly, not looking at him. + +Love irradiated and warmed her. She forgot all she had suffered during +the years she had waited for him to know his mind. She forgot the +privations of the past two days. Her eyes were tender with the mist of +unshed tears. + +"It's going to be the biggest thing in my life. If there's any chance at +all I'll wait as long as you like. Of course, the idea's new to you +because you haven't ever thought of me that way--" + +"You know so much about it," she replied, a faint smile in her dark +eyes that had in it something of wistfulness, something of self-mockery. +She looked directly at him and let him have it full in the face. "I ought +to be ashamed of it, I suppose, but I'm not. I've thought of you--that +way--lots of times. All girls do, when they meet a man they like." + +"You like me?" + +She might have told him that her heart had been his ever since that first +week when she had met him and Clanton on the river. She might have added +that all he had needed to do was to whisper "Come" and she would have +galloped across New Mexico to meet him. But she made no such confession. + +"Yes, I ... like you," she said, a little tremor in her voice. + +He noticed that she did not look at him. Her eyes had fallen to the +fingers laced together on her lap. Under compulsion of his steady gaze +she lifted her lashes at last. What he read there was beyond belief. +The wonder of it lifted his feet from the earth. + +"Lee!" he cried, joy and fear in the balance. + +She answered his unspoken question with a little nod. + +His hand shook. "I've been a blind idiot, dear. I never guessed such a +thing." + +"You were thinking about Polly all the time. I don't blame you. She's the +sweetest thing I ever knew." + +Billie sat down on the spar of rock beside her. His hand slipped down her +arm till it covered hers. With the contact there came to him a flood of +courage. He took her in his arms and kissed her with infinite tenderness. + +Still unstrung from her adventures, she wept a little into his shoulder +out of a full heart. + +"D--don't mind me," she urged. "It's just because I'm so happy." + +If Clanton, when he found them together a few minutes afterward, guessed +what had happened, he gave no evidence of it but a grin, unless his later +comment had a cryptic meaning. "I'll bet Billie is the glad lad at +findin' you. He always was a lucky guy." + +"I think I'm a little lucky too," Lee said with a grave smile. + +Before starting, Prince examined the soles of the girl's boots. Out of +his hat he fashioned a pair of overshoes and fastened them with strings +to her feet. + +"They'll help some," he promised. "I reckon you're not goin' to do much +walkin' anyhow with three husky men along." + +By this time the searcher on the other flank had joined them. The return +trip was a long, hard one, but with Billie on one side of her, and Jim on +the other, Lee found it easy travelling. They aided her over the sharp +rocks and lifted her across the rougher stretches of lava. + +At the edge of the lava bed a buggy was waiting to take Lee to Live-Oaks +in case she should be found. Prince helped Lee in and took the place of +the boy who had driven it out. + +Clanton put his foot on the hub of the wheel. "Just a minute, Billie. I'm +wanted for the killin' of Homer Webb. I didn't shoot him an' I don't +know who did. Somebody must have been lyin' there in the chaparral +waitin' for him. I'll give myself up an' stand trial if you'll guarantee +me fair play. No lynchin' bee. No packed jury. All the cards dealt fair +an' honest above the table." + +The sheriff had smiled at Pauline Roubideau's implicit faith in Jim +Clanton's word. But now, face to face with his friend, he too believed +and felt a load lift from his heart. + +"That's a deal, Jim. You won't have to reckon with any mob or any +hand-picked jury, I'll tell you the truth. I thought you did it. But if +you say you didn't, that goes with me. I'll see you through." + +"Good enough. I'll drop in to-morrow an' we can fix things up. I'd like +to be tried outside of Washington County. There's too much prejudice here +one way an' another. Well, take this little lady home an' scold her good +for the way she's been actin'. She'd ought to get married to a man that +will look after her an' not let her go buckin' into cyclones." + +Billie smiled. "I'll talk to her about that, old scout." + +Miss Snaith blushed furiously, but the best she could do was a bit of +weak repartee. "I used to have hopes that you would ask me, Jim." + +Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em laughed with friendly malice. "I used to have hopes, +too, in that direction, Lee, but I haven't any more. You be good to her +or we also-rans will boil you in oil, Billie." + + + + +Chapter XXVIII + +Sheriff Prince Functions + + +"Yippy yip yip yip!" + +Old Reb, Quantrell's ex-guerrilla, now boss of mule-skinners for Prince, +galloped down the street waving an old dusty white hat. Women and +children and old men dribbled out from the houses, all eager for the +news. + +"Billie he found Miss Lee in the Mal-Pais. That boy sure had his lucky +pants on to-day. She's all right too. I done seen her myself--just a mite +tuckered out, as you might say," explained the former cowpuncher. + +Live-Oaks shook hands with itself in exuberant joy. For an hour the +school bell pealed out the good news. A big bonfire blazed in the +court-house square. Wise dames busied themselves baking bread and frying +doughnuts and roasting beef for the rescue party now homeward bound. It +was a certainty that their men-folks would all be hungry and ready for a +big feed. + +By noon most of the searchers were back in town and the saloons were +doing big business. When Prince drove down the main street of Live-Oaks +an hour later, the road was jammed as for a Fourth-of-July celebration. +Tired though she was, Lee had not the heart to disappoint these good +friends. She went to the picnic ground at Fremont's Grove and was hugged +and kissed by all the woman at the dinner. She wept and was wept over +till her lover decided she had had all the emotion that was good for her, +whereupon he took her back to the home of her aunt and with all the +newborn authority of his position ordered her to bed. + +"But it's only three o'clock in the afternoon," Lee protested. + +"Good-night," answered Billie inexorably. + +She surrendered meekly. "If you say I must, my lord. I _am_ awf'lly +tired." Little globes of gladness welled up in her eyes. "Everybody's so +good to me, Billie. I didn't know folks were so kind. I can't think what +I can ever do to pay them back." + +"I'll tell you how. You be good to yourself, honey," he told her with a +sudden wave of emotion as he caught and held her tight in his arms. "You +quit takin' chances with blizzards an' crazy gunmen an'--" + +"--And horsethieves hidden in the chaparral?" she asked with a flash of +demure eyes. + +"You're goin' to take an awful big chance with one ex-horsethief. Lee, +I'm the luckiest fellow on earth." + +She nestled closer to him. Her lips trembled to his kiss. + +"Billie, you're sure, aren't you?" she whispered. "It wasn't just pity +for me." + +He chose to reassure her after the fashion of a lover, in that wordless +language which is as old as Eden. + +His heart was full of her as he swung down the street buoyantly. He +had known her saucy, scornful, and imperious. He had known her gay +and gallant, had been the victim of her temper. Occasionally he had +seen glimpses of tenderness toward Pauline and of motherliness +toward Jim Clanton. But never until last night had he found her +dependent and clinging. Her defense against him had been a manner of cool +self-reliance. In the stress of her need that had been swept aside to +show her flamy and yet shy, quick with innocent passion. She wanted him +for a mate, just as he wanted her, and she made no concealment of it. In +the candor of her love he exulted. + +Lee slept round the clock almost twice and appeared for a late breakfast. +Her aunt told her some news with which Live-Oaks was buzzing. + +Go-Get-'Em Jim had ridden into town, stopped at the sheriff's office, and +demanded cynically the thousand dollars offered by the Webb estate for +his arrest. + +"He'll come to no good end," prophesied Miss Snaith, senior. + +"You don't quite understand him, aunt," protested Lee. "That's just his +way. He likes to grand-stand, and he does it rather well. But he isn't +half so bad as he makes out. He says he did not shoot Mr. Webb, and we +feel sure he didn't." + +"Of course he says so," replied the older woman indignantly. "Why +wouldn't he say so? But Dad Wrayburn was there and saw it all. There has +been a lot too much promiscuous killing and he's one of the worst of the +lot, your Jim Clanton is. Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em, indeed! I hope the law goes +and gets him now it has a chance." + +The opinion of Lee's aunt was in accord with the general sentiment. +Washington County had within the past year suffered a change of heart. It +had put behind its back the wild and reckless days of its youth when +every man was a law to himself. Bar-room orators talked virtuously of law +and order. They said it behooved the county to live down its evil +reputation as the worst in the United States. Times had changed. The +watchword now should be progress. It ought no longer to be a +recommendation to a man that he could bend a six-gun surer and quicker +than other folks. "Movers" in white-topped wagons were settling up the +country. A railroad had pushed in to Live-Oaks. There was a lot of talk +about Eastern capital becoming interested in irrigation and mining. It +was high time to remember that Live-Oaks and Los Portales were not now +frontier camps, but young cities. + +Since Live-Oaks had been good for so short a time it wanted to prove by a +shining example how it abhorred the lawlessness of its youth. At this +inopportune moment Clanton gave himself up to be tried for the murder of +Homer Webb. + +When the news spread that Clanton had been given a change of venue and +was to be tried at Santa Fe, the citizens of Live-Oaks were distinctly +annoyed. It was known that the sheriff had always been a good friend of +the accused man. The whisper passed that if he ever took Go-Get-'Em Jim +out of the county the killer would be given a chance to escape. + +Into town from the chaparral drifted the enemies Clanton had made during +his career as a gunman. Yankie and Albeen and Dumont and Bancock moved to +and fro in the crowds at the different gambling places and saloons. Even +Roush, who in the past three years had never given young Clanton an +opportunity to meet him face to face, stole furtively into the tendejons +of the Mexican quarter and spent money freely in treating. Among the +natives Go-Get-'Em Jim was in ill-repute for shooting a bad man named +Juan Ortez who had attempted to terrorize the town while on a spree. + +"We're spendin' a lot of good money on this job. We'd ought to pull it +off," Dumont whispered to Albeen. + +"Whose money?" asked the one-armed man cynically. + +It struck him as an ironic jest that the money they had got from the sale +of Homer Webb's cattle should be spent to bring about the lynching of the +man who had killed him. + +Both the sheriff and his deputy were out of town rounding up a half-breed +Mexican who had stabbed another at a dance. They reached Live-Oaks with +their prisoner about the middle of the afternoon. Lee was waiting for +them impatiently at the court-house. + +"They're planning to lynch Jim," she told Prince abruptly. + +"Who's goin' to do all that?" he asked. + +"The riff-raff of the county are back of it, but the worst of it is that +they've got a lot of good people in with them. Some of the Flying V Y +riders are in town too. I never saw so much drinking before." + +"When is it to be?" + +"I don't know." + +"Who told you?" + +"Bud Proctor. He says Yankie and Albeen and that crowd are spending +hundreds of dollars at the bars." + +"I knew there was somethin' on foot soon as we hit town--felt it in the +air." The sheriff looked at his watch. "We can just catch the afternoon +train, Jack. Take this bird downstairs an' lock him up. I'll join you in +a minute." + +"What are you going to do?" asked Lee as soon as they were alone. + +"Goin' to slip Jim aboard the train an' take him to Santa Fe." + +"Can you do it without being seen?" + +"I'll tell you that later," he answered with a grim smile. "Much obliged, +honey. I'm goin' to be right busy now, but I'll see you soon as I get +back to town." + +Lee nodded good-bye and wait out. She liked it in him that just now he +had no time even for her. From the door she glanced back. Already he was +busy getting his guns ready. + +Prince got his keys and unlocked the room where Clanton was. Jim was on +the bed reading an old newspaper. + +"Hello, Billie," he grinned. + +"We're leaving on the afternoon train, Jim. Get a move on you an' hustle +yore things together." + +"Thought you weren't goin' till next week." + +"Changed my mind. Jim, there's trouble afoot. Yore enemies are all in +town. I want to get you away." + +Clanton did not bat an eye. "Plannin' a necktie party, are they?" + +"They've got notions. Mine are different." "Do I get a gun if it comes to +a showdown, Billie?" + +"You do. I'll appoint you a deputy." + +Jim laughed. "That sounds reasonable." + +Goodheart joined them. The three men left the back door of the +court-house and cut across the square. The station was three blocks +distant. Before they had covered a hundred yards a boy on the other side +of the street stopped, stared at them, and disappeared into the nearest +saloon. + +The prisoner looked at his friend and grinned gayly. "Somethin' stirrin' +soon. We're liable to have a breeze in this neighborhood, looks like." + +They reached the station without being molested, but down the street +could be seen much bustle of men running to and fro. Prince looked at +them anxiously. + +"The clans are gathering," murmured Clanton nonchalantly, his hands in +his pockets. "Don't you reckon maybe you'll have to feed me to the +wolves after all, Billie?" + +A saddled horse blinked in the sun beside the depot, the bridle rein +trailing on the ground. Its owner sat on a dry-goods box and whittled. +Jim glanced at the bronco casually. Jack Goodheart also observed the +cowpony. He whispered to the sheriff. + +Prince turned to his prisoner. "Jim, you can take that horse an' hit the +dust, if you like." + +"Meanin' that you can't protect me?" + +The salient jaw of the sheriff tightened. He looked what he was, a man +among ten thousand, quiet and forceful, strong as tested steel. + +"You'll have exactly the same chance to weather this that we will." + +A mob of men was moving down the street in loose formation. There was +still time for a man to fling himself into the saddle and gallop away. + +"You'd rather I'd stay, Billie." + +"Yes. I'm sheriff. I'd like to show this drunken outfit they can't take a +prisoner from me." + +Clanton gave a little whoop of delight. "Go to it, son. You're law west +of the Pecos. Let's see you make it stick." + +Live-Oaks was as yet the terminus of the railroad. The train backed into +the station just as the first of the mob arrived. + +"Nothin' doin', Prince," announced Yankie, swaggering forward. "You're +not goin' to take this fellow Clanton away. We've come to get him." + +"That's right," agreed Albeen. + +Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em grinned. "Makes twice now you've come to get me." + +"We didn't make it go last time. Different now," said Bancock, moving +forward. + +"That's near enough," ordered Prince. "You've made a mistake, boys. I'm +sheriff of Washington County, and this man's my prisoner." + +"He's yore old side kick, too, ain't he?" jeered Yankie. + +Goodheart, following the orders he had received, moved forward to the +engine and climbed into the cab beside the engineer and fireman. The +sheriff and his prisoner backed to the steps of the smoking-car. Billie +had had a word with the brakeman, his young friend Bud Proctor, who had +at once locked the door at the other end of the smoker. + +"Now," said Prince in a low voice. + +Jim ran up lightly to the platform of the coach and passed inside. A howl +of anger rose from the mob. There was a rush forward. Billie was on the +lower step. His long leg lifted, the toe caught Yankie on the point of +the chin, and the rustler went back head first into the crowd as though +he had been shot from a catapult. + +Instantly Prince leaped for the platform and whirled on the mob. He held +now a gun in each hand. His eyes glittered dangerously as they swept +the upturned faces. They carried to every man in the crowd the message +that his prisoner could not be taken as long as the sheriff was alive. + +Clanton threw open a window of the coach, rested his arms on the sill, +and looked out. Again there was a roar of rage and a forward surge of the +dense pack on the station platform. + +"He ain't even got irons on the man's hands!" a voice shouted. "It's a +frame-up to git him away from us!" + +"Don't hide back there in the rear, Roush. Come right up to the front an' +tell me that," called back Prince. "You're right about one thing. I don't +need to handcuff Clanton. He has surrendered for trial, an' I'm here to +see he gets a fair one. I'll do it if I have to put irons _in_ his +hands--shootin' irons." + +Jim Clanton, his head framed in the window, laughed insolently. He was a +picture of raffish, devil-may-care ease. + +"Don't let Billie bluff you, boys. We can't bump off more'n a dozen or so +of you. Hop to it." + +"You won't laugh so loud when the rope's round yore gullet," retorted +Albeen. + +"That rope ain't woven, yet," flung back the young fellow coolly. + +Even as he spoke a lariat whistled through the air. Jim threw up a hand +and the loop slid harmlessly down the side of the car. One of the riders +of the Flying V Y had tried to drag the prisoner out with a reata. + +"You mean well, but you'll never win a roping contest, Syd," jeered +Clanton. "Good of you an' all my old friends to gather here to see me +off, I see you back there, Roush. It's been some years since we met, an' +me always lookin' for you to say to you a few well-chosen words. I'll +shoot straighter next time." + +The vigilantes raised a howl of fury. They were like a wolf pack eager +for the kill. Between them and their prey stood one man, cool, +indomitable, steady as a rock. He held death in each hand, every man +present knew it. They could get Clanton if they were willing to pay the +price, but though there were game men in the mob, not one of them +wanted to be the first to put his foot on the lower step of the coach. + +From the other end of the car came the sudden noise of hammering. Some +one had found a sledge in the baggage-room and with a dozen armed men +back of him was trying to break down the door. + +Prince called to his prisoner. "You've got to get in this, Jim. I appoint +you deputy sheriff. Unstrap this belt from my waist. Take the other end +of the car an' hold it. No shootin' unless it comes to a showdown. +Understand?" + +Clanton nodded. His eyes gleamed. "I'll behave proper, Billie." + +Five seconds later the beating on the door stopped. The eyes of the big +blacksmith with the hammer popped out with a ludicrous terror. Go-Get-'Em +Jim was standing in the aisle grinning at him with a six-gun in each +hand. With a wild whoop the horseshoer dropped the sledge and turned. He +flung himself down the steps carrying with him half a dozen others. Not +till he was safe in his own shop two blocks away did he stop running. + +A shrill whistle rang out from the side of the train farthest from the +station. The wheels began to move slowly. There was a rush for the +engine. Jack Goodheart stood in the door of the cab ready for business. + +"No passengers allowed here, boys," he announced calmly. "Take the +coaches in the rear." + +A dozen revolvers cracked. There was a rattle of breaking windows. The +engine, baggage-car, and smoker moved forward, leaving the rest of the +train on the track. + +Men, swarming like ants, had climbed to the top of the cars, evidently +with some idea of getting at their victim from above. Some of these were +on the forward coaches. They began to drop off hurriedly as the station +fell to the rear. + +The wheels turned faster. Bud Proctor swung aboard and joined the +sheriff. + +"I cut off the other cars and gave the signal to start," he explained +triumphantly. + +"Good boy, Bud. Knew I could tie to you," Prince answered with the warm +smile that always won him friends. + +They passed into the car together. Clanton was leaning far out of the +window waving a mocking hand of farewell to the crowd on the platform. He +drew his head in and handed the weapons back to his friend. + +"Don't I make a good deputy, Billie? I didn't fire even once." + + + + +Chapter XXIX + +"They Can't Hang Me If I ain't There" + + +The jury brought in a verdict of murder in the first degree. Clanton was +sentenced to be hanged at Live-Oaks four weeks after the day the trial +ended. Prince himself had been called back to Washington County to deal +with a band of rustlers who had lately pulled off a series of bold, +wholesale cattle thefts. He left Goodheart to bring the prisoner back +with him in case of a conviction. + +The deputy sheriff left the train at Los Vegas, to which point Prince had +sent a man with horses to meet Jack and the convicted murderer. It was +not likely that the enemies of Clanton would make another attempt to +frustrate the law, but there was a chance that they would. Goodheart did +not take the direct road to Live-Oaks, but followed the river valley +toward Los Portales. + +The party reached the Roubideau ranch at dusk of the third night. Pauline +had been at the place three months keeping house for her father. She flew +to meet Jim, her eyes filled with a divine pity. Both hands went out to +his manacled ones impulsively. Her face glowed with a soft, welcoming +warmth. + +"You poor boy! You poor, poor boy!" she cried. Then, flaming, she turned +on Goodheart: "Bel et bien! Why do you load him down with chains? Are you +afraid of him?" + +The deputy flushed. "I have no right to take any chances of an escape. +You know that." + +"I know he is innocent. Why did they find him guilty?" + +"I had no evidence," explained Jim simply. "Dad Wrayburn swore I shot +twice at Webb just before I disappeared in the brush. Then a shot came +out of the chaparral. It's not reasonable to suppose some one else fired +it, especially when the bullet was one that fitted a forty-four." + +"But you didn't fire it. You told me so in your letter." + +"My word didn't count with the jury. I'd have to claim that, anyhow, to +save my life. My notion is that the bullet didn't come from a six-gun at +all, but from a seventy-three rifle. But I can't prove that either." + +"It isn't fair. It--it's an outrage." Polly burst into tears and took the +slim young fellow into her arms. "They ought to know you wouldn't do +that. Why didn't your friends tell them so?" + +He smiled, a little wistfully. "A gunman doesn't have friends, Polly. +Outside of you an' Lee an' Billie I haven't any. All the newspapers in +the territory an' all the politicians an' most of the decent people have +been pullin' for a death sentence. Well, they've got it." He stroked her +hair softly. "Don't you worry, girl. They won't get a chance to hang me." + +Pauline released him, dabbed at her eyes, and ran, choking, into the +house. + +"You've got to be in trouble to make a real hit with Miss Roubideau," +suggested the lank deputy, a little bitterly. "I'll take those bracelets +off now, Clanton. You can wash for supper." + +Polly saw to it, anyhow, that the prisoner had the best to eat there was +in the house. She made a dinner of spring chicken, mashed potatoes, hot +biscuits, jelly, and apple pie. + +A rider for the Flying V Y dropped in after they had eaten and bridled +like a turkey cock at sight of Clanton. + +"Don't you let him git away from you, Jack," he warned the officer. +"We're allowin' to have a holiday on the sixth up at our place so as to +go to the show. It _is_ the sixth, ain't it?" he jeered, turning to the +handcuffed man on the lounge. + +"The sixth is correct," answered Jim coolly, meeting him eye to eye. + +"You wouldn't talk that way if Clanton was free," said Goodheart. "You're +taggin' yoreself a bully an' a cheap skate when you do it." + +"Say, is that any of yore business, Mr. Deputy Sheriff?" + +"It is when you talk to my prisoner. Cut it out, Swartz." + +"All right." + +The cowpuncher turned to Pauline, who had come to the door and stood +there. "You'll be goin' to the big show on the sixth, Miss Roubideau. +Live-Oaks will be a sure-enough live town that day." + +The young woman walked straight up to the big cowpuncher. Her eyes +blazed. "Get out of this house. Don't ever come here again. Don't speak +to me if you meet me." + +The Flying V Y rider was taken aback. Like a good many young fellows +within a radius of a hundred miles, he was a candidate for the favor of +Pierre Roubideau's daughter. + +"Why, I--I--" he stammered. "I didn't aim for to offend you. This fellow +bushwhacked my boss. He--" + +"That isn't true," she interrupted. "He didn't do it." + +"Sure he did it. Go-Get-'Em Jim is a killer. A girl like you, Miss +Roubideau, has got no business stickin' up for a bad man who--" + +"Didn't you hear me? I told you to go." + +"You've been invited to remove yoreself from the place an' become a part +of the outdoor scenery, Swartz," cut in Goodheart, a snap to his jaw. +"I'd take that invite pronto if I was you." + +The cowpuncher picked up his hat and walked out. The drawling voice of +the prisoner followed him. + +"Don't you worry, Polly. They can't hang me if I ain't there, can they?" + +The deputy guessed that Pauline wished to talk alone with Clanton. +Presently he arose and sauntered to the door. "I want to see yore father +about some horses Billie needs. Back soon." + +He gave them a half-hour, but he took pains to see that his assistant +covered the back door while he watched the front of the house. The +prisoner was handcuffed, but Jack did not intend to take any chances. +Personally he believed that Clanton was guilty, but whether he was or not +it was his duty to bring the convicted man safely to Live-Oaks. This he +meant to do. + + + + +Chapter XXX + +Polly has a Plan + + +Pauline moved across the room and sat down beside Jim. An eager light +shone in her soft, brown eyes. + +"Listen!" she ordered in a low voice. "I've got a plan. There's a chance +that it will work, I think. But tell me first about your sleeping +arrangements. Does Jack or the other guard sit up and watch you all the +time?" + +"No. The champion roper of New Mexico, Arizona, an' Texas throws the +diamond hitch on yours truly. He does an expert job, tucks me up, an' +says good-night. He knows I'm perfectly safe till mornin', especially +since both he an' Brad sleep in the same room with me." + +"Well, I'm going to give you dad's room." She leaned forward and +whispered to him steadily for five minutes. + +The sardonic mockery had vanished from the face of the prisoner. He +listened, every nerve and fiber of him at alert attention. Occasionally +he asked a question. Carefully she explained the plan, going over each +detail of it again and again. + +Jim Clanton was efficient. In those days it was a necessary quality for a +bad man if he wished to continue to function. He offered a suggestion or +two which Pauline incorporated in her proposed campaign of action. At +best her scheme was hazardous. It depended upon all things dovetailing +properly. But he was in no place to pick and choose. All he asked was a +chance and an even break of luck. + +"You dandy girl!" he cried softly, and took her two hands between the +palms of his fettered ones. "I'm a scalawag, Polly. But if you pull this +off for me, I'll right-about-face. That's a promise. Somehow I've never +acted like I wanted to. I've done a heap of wild an' foolish things, an' +I've killed whenever it was put up to me. I don't reckon any woman that +married me would be real happy. But if you'll take a chance 111 go away +from here an' well Make a fresh start. You're the only girl there is for +me." + +A faint smile lay in her eyes. "You used to think Lee was the only girl, +didn't you?" + +"Well, I don't now. I like Polly Roubideau better." + +Abruptly she flung at him a statement that was a question. "You didn't +kill Mr. Webb." + +"No. I never killed but one man without givin' him an even break. That +was Peg-Leg Warren, an' he was a cold-blooded murderer." + +A troubled little frown creased her forehead. "I've thought for more than +a year now that you--liked me that way. And I've had it in my mind +a great deal as to what I ought to do if you spoke to me about it. I wish +you had a good wife, Jim. Maybe she could save you from yourself." + +"Mebbe she could, Polly." + +The lashes of her eyelids fell. She looked down at the bands of iron +around his small wrists. "I--I've prayed over it, Jim. But I'm not clear +that I've found an answer." Her low voice broke a little. "I don't know +what to say." + +"Is it that you are afraid of what I'm goin' to be? Can't you trust yore +life with me? I shouldn't think you could." + +Her eyes lifted and met his bravely. "I think that wouldn't stop me +if--if I cared for you that way." + +"It's Billie Prince, then, is it?" + +"No, it isn't Billie Prince. Never mind who it is. What I must decide is +whether I can make you the kind of wife you need without being exactly--" + +"In love with me," he finished for her. + +"Yes. I've always liked you very much. You've been good to me. I love you +like a brother, I think. Oh, I don't know how to say it." + +"Let's get this straight, Polly. Is there some one else you love?" + +A tide of color flooded her face to the roots of the hair. She met his +steady look reluctantly. + +"We needn't discuss that, Jim." + +"Needn't we?" He laughed a little, but his voice was rough with feeling. +"You're the blamedest little pilgrim ever I did see. What kind of a +fellow do you think I am? I ain't good enough for you--not by a thousand +miles. Even if you felt about me the way I do about you, it would be a +big risk for you to marry me. But now--Sho, little missionary, I ain't so +selfish as to let you sacrifice yore life for me." + +"If I marry you it will be because I want to, Jim." + +"You'll want to because you're such a good little Christian you think +it's up to you to save a brand from the burning. But I won't let you do +any such foolishness. You go marry that other man. If he's a good, +square, decent fellow, you'll be a whole lot better off than if you tied +up with a ne'er-do-well like me." + +They heard a step on the porch. + +"Don't forget. Three taps if you're alone in the room," she said in a +whisper. + +Goodheart came into the parlor with Pierre Roubideau. "Expect we'd better +turn in, Clanton. We've got to make an early start to-morrow." + +The prisoner rose at once. Pauline had drawn her father aside and was +giving him some instructions. The old Frenchman nodded, smiling. He +understood her little feminine devices and was a cheerful victim of them. + +The young woman found a chance for a word alone with the deputy. + +"I want to see you to-night, Jack, about--something." Her eyes were very +bright and the color in the soft cheeks high. She spoke almost in a +whisper. + +The lank young sheriff had the soul of an inarticulate poet. Beneath the +tan of his leathery face the blood burned. This was the first really kind +word he had had from her since their arrival. All her solicitation had +been for the condemned youth in his care. Perhaps all she wanted now was +to ask some favor for Clanton, but hope leaped in his heart. + +He made arrangements for the night in his usual careful way. It was not +pleasant to have to watch the prisoner as a cat does a mouse, but +Goodheart was thorough in whatever he undertook. Skillfully he tied +Clanton in such a way as to allow him enough freedom of motion to change +position without giving him enough to make it possible for him to untie +himself. + +"Back after a while" he told Jim. + +The young man on the bed grunted sleepily and the deputy returned to the +parlor. + +Pauline, still in her kitchen apron, smiled in at the door upon him and +her father. + +"You two go out on the porch and smoke your pipes," she said. "I have to +finish my work in the kitchen, then I have to go down to the cellar and +take care of the milk. Ill not be long." + +Pierre, an obedient parent, rose and moved toward the porch. Before +he left the room Goodheart took the precaution to lock the bedroom +door and pocket the key. He was a little ashamed of this, but he knew +that Go-Get-'Em Jim was a very competent and energetic person. Convicted +and sentenced though he was, Clanton still boasted with cool aplomb that +there would be no hanging on the sixth. The deputy strolled round to the +back of the house to make sure his assistant was still on the job. After +a few words with the man he returned to the porch. He was satisfied there +was no possible chance of an escape. The prisoner lay handcuffed and tied +to a bed by the champion roper of the Southwest. The door of the room was +locked Both exits from the house were guarded. Jack felt that he could +safely enjoy a smoke. + + + + +Chapter XXXI + +Goodheart Makes a Promise and Breaks It + + +Pauline was a singularly honest little soul, but she now discovered in +herself unsuspected capacity for duplicity. She went singing about her +work, apparently care-free as a lark. Presently, still humming a French +chanson, she appeared on the porch swinging a key, passed the two men +with a gay little nod, and disappeared around the corner of the house +to the cellar. + +The rancher apologized for the key. "We've had to lock the cellar lately +since so many movers have been going through on this road. Eh bien! Our +hams--they took wings and flew." + +Polly rattled the milk pans for a moment or two and then listened. From +above there came to her the sound of three faint raps on the woodwork of +the bed. She crept up the stairs that led from the cellar into the house. +At the top of them was a trapdoor. Very slowly and carefully she pushed +this up. Through the opening she passed into a bedroom. + +Softly the girl stole to the bed. From the cellar she had brought a +butcher knife and with this she sawed at the rope which bound the +prisoner. + +"But your handcuffs. What can we do about them?" she whispered. + +Clanton stretched his stiff muscles. He made no answer in words. For a +moment or two his arms writhed, then from out of the iron bracelet his +long slender hand slowly twisted. Soon the second wrist was also free. + +"I've had a lot of fun poked at my girl hands, but they come in useful +sometimes," he murmured. + +"I'll have to hurry back or I'll be missed," she told him. "You'll find a +saddled horse in the aspens." + +He caught her by the shoulders and held her fast. "You've been the +truest little friend ever a man had. You've stuck by me an' believed in +me even when I didn't believe in myself any longer. No matter what folks +said about me or about you for takin' an interest in such a scamp, you +never quit fightin' to keep me decent. I've heard tell of guardian +angels--well, that's what you've been to me, little pilgrim." + +"I haven't forgotten the boy who rode up Escondido Canon to save me from +death and dishonor," Pauline cried softly. + +"You've paid that debt fifty times. I owe you more than I can tell. I +wisht I knew a way to pay it." + +Her soft and dusky eyes clung to his pleadingly. "If you get away, Jim, +you _will_ be good, won't you?" + +"I'll be as good as I've got it in me to be. I don't know how good that +is, Polly. But I'll do my level best." + +"Oh, I'm so glad," she whispered. "Good luck--heaps of it." + +He was not quite sure whether it was his privilege to kiss the parted red +lips upturned to him, but he took a chance and was not rebuked. + +Pauline went noiselessly down the steps again into the cellar while +Clanton held the trapdoor. He lowered it inch by inch so that it would +not creak, then spread over it the Navajo rug that had been there before +the entrance of the girl. + +Pierre Roubideau was still on his first pipe when Polly came round the +corner of the house and stopped at the porch steps. + +"I want to show you our new colt, Jack," she said to the deputy. This +matter-of-fact statement came a little shyly and a little tremulously +from her lips. Her heart was beating furiously. + +The officer rose at once. "Just a minute," he said, and went into the +house. + +He unlocked the door of the room where Clanton was and glanced in. The +prisoner lay on the bed in the moonlight, the blankets drawn over him. +From his deep, regular breathing Jack judged him to be asleep. He +relocked the door and joined Pauline. + +The face of the girl was very white in the moonlight. Her big eyes +flashed at him a question. Had he discovered that his prisoner was free? + +They walked slowly toward the corral. From it Goodheart could see the +front of the house, but not the cellar entrance at the side. Neither of +them spoke until they reached the fence. He turned and leaned his elbows +against it, facing the house. + +Pauline was under great nervous tension. Her lips were dry and her throat +parched. If the guard at the rear caught sight of the prisoner while he +was escaping, Clanton would certainly be shot down. She knew Jim better +than to hope that he would let himself be taken again alive. + +The conscience of the girl troubled her too. She was doing this to save +the life of a friend, but it was impossible not to feel a sense of +treachery toward this other friend whose approval was so much more +vital to her happiness. Would Jack think that she had conspired against +his honor in an underhanded way? He was a man of strict principles. Would +he cast her off and have no more to do with her? + +She woke from her worries to discover that an emotional climax was +imminent. Jack was telling her, in awkward, broken phrases, of his love +for her. Polly had waited a long time for his confession, but coming at +this hour it filled/her with shame and distress. What an evil chance that +he should be blurting out the story of his faith and trust in her +while she was in the act of betraying him! + +"Don't, Jack, don't!" she begged. + +"It's all right," he said gently. "I know you don't care for me. But I +had to tell you. Just had to do it. Couldn't keep still any longer. It's +all right, Polly. I can stand it. I didn't go for to worry you." + +She wept. + +Her tears distressed him. He urged her to forget his presumption. She had +been so good to him that he had spoken in spite of himself. + +Pauline found she could not let him deceive himself. If she let him go +now, perhaps he might never come back. + +"You goose!" + +Though the words came smothered through her handkerchief, he gained +incredible comfort from them. + +"Polly!" he cried. + +"Don't you say a word, Jack," she ordered. "Let me do the talking." + +"If you'll tell me that--that--you care anything for--for--" + +"--For a big stupid who is too modest ever to think enough of himself," +she completed. "Well, I do. I care a great deal for him." + +"You don't mean--" + +"I do, too. That's just what I mean. No, you keep back there till I'm +through, Jack. I want to find out if you love me as much as I do you." + +"Polly!" he cried a second time. + +Her small face was very serious and white in the moonshine. + +"Suppose we don't agree about something. Say I do a thing that seems +right to me, but it doesn't seem right to you. What then?" + +"It'll seem right to me if you do it," he answered. + +"That's just a compliment." + +"No, it's the truth. Whatever you do seems right to me." + +"But suppose I do something that you think is wrong. Perhaps it may seem +to you disloyal." + +"If you do it because you think you ought to I'll not find it disloyal." + +"Sure, Jack?" + +"Certain sure," he answered. + +"It's a promise?" + +"It's a promise." + +Little imps of mischief bubbled into the brown eyes. "Then why don't you +kiss me, goose?" + +He caught her to him with a fierce rapture. + +There came to them the sudden sound of drumming hoofs. A shot rang out in +the night. Goodheart, with the first kiss of his sweetheart almost on his +lips, flung Pauline aside and ran to the house. + +The other guard met him at the front steps. "By God, he's gone!" the man +cried. + +"Clanton?" + +"Yep." + +"Can't be. He was handcuffed, tied to the bed, and locked in. I've got +the key in my pocket." + +The deputy sheriff took the steps at one bound, flung himself across the +parlor, and unlocked the door. One glance showed him the empty bed, the +displaced rug, and the trapdoor. He stepped forward and picked up the +bits of rope and the handcuffs. + +"Some one cut the rope and freed him," he said, confounded at the +impossibility of the thing that had occurred. + +"Must of slipped his hands out of the cuffs, looks like," the guard +suggested. + +"He got me to give him a bigger size--complained they chafed his wrists." + +"Some trick that, if he _has_ got kid hands." + +The chill eyes of Goodheart gimleted into those of his assistant. "Did +you do this, Brad? God help you if you did." + +A light step sounded on the threshold. Pauline came into the room. "I did +it, Jack," she said. + +"You!" + +"I came up through the trapdoor when I was in the cellar. I cut the rope +and told him there was a horse saddled in the aspens." + +Thoughts raced in his bewildered mind. She had planned all this +carefully. Almost under his very eyes she had done it. Then she had lured +him from the house to give Clanton a better chance. She had let him make +love to her so that she could keep him at the corral while the prisoner +escaped. It was all a trick. Even now she was laughing up her sleeve +at the way she had made a fool of him. + +"You saddled the horse and left it there." His statement was a question, +too. + +"Yes. I had to save him. I knew he was innocent." + +All the explanations she had intended shriveled up before the scorn in +his eyes. He brushed past her without a word and strode out of the house. + +Pauline went to her room and flung herself on the bed. After a time her +father came in and sat down beside the girl. He put a gentle hand on her +shoulder. + +"I know what you think, dad," she said without turning her head. "But I +couldn't help it, I had to do it." + +"It may make you trouble, ma petite." + +"I can't help that. Jim didn't kill Mr. Webb. I know it." + +"After a fair trial a jury said he did, Polly. We have to take their word +for it." + +"You think I did wrong then." + +"You did what you think was right. In my heart is no blame for you." + +He comforted her as best he could and left her to sleep. But she did not +sleep. All through the night she lay and listened. She was miserably +unhappy. Her head and her heart ached. Jack had promised that she should +be the judge of what was right for her to do, and at the first test he +had failed her. She made excuses for him, but the hurt of her +disappointment could not be assuaged. + +In the early morning she heard the clatter of horses' hoofs in the yard. +During the night she had not undressed. Now she rose and went out to meet +her lover. He was at the stable, a gaunt figure, hollow-eyed, dusty, and +stern. He had failed to recapture his prisoner. + +"Jack," she pleaded, reaching out a hand timidly toward him. + +Again he rejected her advance in grim silence. Swinging to the saddle, he +rode out of the gate and down the road toward Live-Oaks. + +With a little whimper Polly moved blindly to the house through her tears. + + + + +Chapter XXXII + +Jim Takes a Prisoner + + +After Goodheart left the room where his prisoner was confined, Clanton +waited a few moments till the sound of his footsteps had died away. He +rose, moved noiselessly across the floor, and raised the trapdoor slowly. +The creaking of the rusty hinges seemed to Jim to be shouting aloud the +news of his escape. The young fellow descended into the cellar and stood +there without moving till his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. He +groped his way to the door, which Pauline had left open an inch or +two. Carefully he edged through and crouched in the gloom at the foot of +the steps. + +Not far away some one was whistling cheerfully. Clanton recognized the +tune as the usual musical offertory of Brad. He was giving "Uncle Ned" to +an unappreciative world. + +The fugitive crept up the steps and peered over the top. Brad was sitting +on a bench against the wall. Evidently he was quite comfortable and had +no intention of moving. The guard was so near that it would not be a fair +risk to try to make a dash across the moonlit open for the aspen grove. +He was so far that before the prisoner could reach him his gun would be +in action. There was nothing to do but wait. Jim huddled against the +sustaining wall while with the passing minutes his chance of escape +dipped away. + +Pierre Roubideau came round the corner of the house and joined Brad. The +guard made room for him on the bench. If Roubideau sat down, the man +in the shadow knew he was lost. They would sit there and chat till +Goodheart came back and discovered his absence. + +The rancher hesitated while he felt for his pipe. "Reckon I left it in +the kitchen," he said. + +Brad followed him round the corner of the house. Clanton waited no +longer. They might return, or they might not. He did not intend to stay +to find out. + +Swiftly he ran toward the aspens. Half the distance he had covered when a +voice called sharply to halt. The guard had turned and caught sight of +him. + +The feet of the running man slapped the ground faster. As he dodged into +the trees a bullet flew past him. Yet a moment, and he had flung himself +astride the bronco waiting there and had electrified that sleepy animal +into life. + +The pony struck its stride immediately. It took the rising ground at a +gallop, topped the hill, and disappeared over the brow. The rider plunged +into the thick mesquite. He knew that Goodheart would pursue, but he +knew, too, that the odds were a hundred to one against capture if he +could put a mile or two between him and the Roubideau ranch. A man could +vanish in any one of fifty draws. He could find a temporary hiding-place +up any gulch under cover of the matted brush. Therefore he turned toward +the mountains. + +Since he was unarmed, it was essential that Clanton should get into touch +with his associates of the chaparral at once. Until he had a six-gun +strapped to his side and a carbine under his leg he would not feel +comfortable. All night he traveled, winding in and out of canons, +crossing divides, and dipping down into little mountain parks. He knew +exactly where he wanted to go, and he moved toward his destination in the +line of greatest economy. + +Morning found him descending from a mountain pass to the Ruidosa. + +"Breakfast soon, you wall-faced old Piute," Jim told his mount. "You're +sure a weary caballo, but we got to keep hitting the trail till we cross +that hogback." + +A thin film of smoke rose from a little valley to the left. Clanton drew +up abruptly. He had no desire to meet now any strangers whose intentions +had not been announced. + +Swiftly, with a pantherish smoothness of motion, he slid from the cowpony +and moved to the edge of a bluff that looked down into the arroyo below. +He crept forward and peered through a clump of cactus growing at the edge +of the escarpment. + +The camp-fire was at the very foot of the bluff. A man was stooped over +it cooking breakfast. + +The heart of the fugitive lost a beat, then raced wildly. The camper was +Devil Dave Roush. A rifle lay beside him. His revolver was in a cartridge +belt that had been tossed on a boulder within reach of his hand. + +Clanton wriggled back without a sound from the edge of the cliff and rose +to his feet. A savage light of triumph blazed in his eyes. The enemy +for whom he had long sought was delivered into his hands. He ran back to +the bronco and untied the reata from the tientos. Deftly he coiled the +rope and adjusted the loop to suit him. Again he stole to the rim rock +and waited with the stealthy, deadly patience of the crouched cougar. + +Roush rose. His arms fell to his sides. Instantly the rope dropped, +uncoiling as it flew. With perfect accuracy the loop descended upon its +victim and tightened about his waist, pinning the arms close to the body. + +Clanton, hauled in the rawhide swiftly. Dragged from his feet, Roush +could make no resistance. Before he could gather his startled wits, he +found himself dangling in midair against the face of the rock wall. + +The man above fastened the end of the rope to the roots of a scrub oak +and ran down the slope at full speed. In less than half a minute he was +standing breathless in front of his prisoner. + +Already shaken with dread, Roush gave way to panic fear at sight of him. + +"Goddlemighty! It's Clanton!" he cried. + +Jim buckled on the belt and appropriated the rifle. His grim face told +Roush all he needed to know. + +There had been a time when Roush, full of physical life and energy, had +boasted that he feared no living man. In his cups he still bragged of his +bad record, of his accuracy as a gunman, of his gameness. But he knew, +and his associates suspected, that Devil Dave had long since drunk up his +courage. His nerves were jumpy and his heart bad. Now he begged for his +life abjectly. If he had been free from the rope that held him dangling +against the wall, he would have crawled like a whipped cur to the feet of +his enemy. + +At a glance Clanton saw Roush had been camping alone. The hobbled +horse, the blankets, the breakfast dishes, all told him this. But he +took no chances. First he saddled the horse and brought it close to the +camp-fire. When he sat down to eat the breakfast the rustler had cooked, +it was with his back to the bluff and the rifle across his knees. + +"This here rope hurts tur'ble--seems like my wrists are on fire," whined +the man. "You let me down, Mr. Clanton, and I'll explain eve'ything. I +want to be yore friend. I sure do. I don't feel noways onfriendly to you. +Mebbe I used to be a bad lot, but I'm a changed man now." + +Go-Get-'Em Jim said nothing. He had not spoken once, and his silence +filled the roped man with terror. The shifting eyes of Devil Dave read +doom in the cold, still ones of his enemy. + +Sometimes Roush argued in a puling whimper. Sometimes his terror rose to +the throat and his entreaties became shrieks. He died a dozen deaths +while his foe watched him with a chill stillness more menacing than any +threats. + +The first impulse of Clanton had been to stamp out the life of this man +just as he would that of a diamond-backed rattlesnake; but he meant to +take his time about it and to see that the fellow suffered. Not until he +was halfway through the meal did the memory of his pledge to Pauline jump +to his mind. Quickly he pushed it from him. He had not meant to include +Roush in his promise. As soon as he had made an end of this ruffian he +would turn over a new leaf. But not yet. Roush was outside the pale. His +life belonged to Jim. He would be a traitor to the memory of his sister +if he let the villain go. + +The lust for vengeance swelled in the young man's blood like a tide. It +was his right to kill; more, it was his duty. So he tried to persuade +himself. But deep within him a voice was making itself heard. It +whispered that if he killed Roush now, he could never look Pauline +Roubideau in the face again. She had fought gallantly for his soul, and +at last he had pledged his honor to a new course. Not twelve hours ago +she had risked her reputation to save his life. If he failed her now, it +would be a betrayal of all the desires and purposes that had of late been +stirring in him. + +Clammy beads of sweat stood on his forehead. He had been given a new +chance, and it warred with every inherited instinct of his nature. The +fight within was cruel and bitter. But when he rose, his breakfast +forgotten, it was won. He would let Roush go unhurt. He would do it for +the sake of Polly Roubideau, who had been such a good friend to him. + +Devil Dave, ghastly with fear, was still pleading for his life. Clanton, +who had heard nothing of what the fellow had been saying in the past ten +minutes, came to a sudden alert attention. + +"I'll go into court an' swear it if you'll let me be. I'll tell the jedge +an' the jury that Joe Yankie told me an' Albeen an' Dumont that he +bushwhacked Webb an' then cut his stick so that you-all got the blame. +Honest to God, I will, Mr. Clanton. Jest you trust me an' see." + +"When did Yankie tell you that?" + +"He done told us at the camp-fire one night. He made his brags how you +got the blame for it an' would have to hang." + +"Albeen heard him say it--an' Dumont too?" + +"Tha's right, Mr. Clanton. An' I'll sure take my Bible oath on it." + +Go-Get-'Em Jim whipped out the forty-five from its holster and fired. +Roush dropped screaming to the ground. He thought he had been shot. The +bullet had cut the rope above his head. + +"Get up," ordered Clanton in disgust. + +Roush rose stiffly. + +Jim swung to the saddle of the horse beside him. "Hit the dust," he told +his captive. + +The rider followed the footman to the top of the bluff. Here Roush was +instructed to mount the horse Clanton had been astride all night. Riding +behind the tame bad man, Jim cut across the hills to a gulch and followed +it till the ravine ran out in a little valley. He crossed this and +climbed a stiff pass from the other side of which he looked down on +Live-Oaks a thousand feet below. + +The young man tied the hands of his prisoner behind him. From a coat +pocket he drew a looking-glass, caught the sun's rays, and flung them +upon a house in the suburbs of the town. + +Out of the house there presently came a man. He stood in the doorway a +moment before going down the street. A flash of hot sunlight caught him +full in the face. He moved. The light danced after him. Then be woke up. +From the cliff far above friends of his had been wont to heliograph +signals during the late Washington County War. + +He read the light flashes and at once saddled a horse. A few minutes +later he might have been seen on the breakneck trail that leads across +the mountains to the Ruidosa. After a stiff climb he reached the summit +and swung sharply along the ridge to the right. A voice hailed him. + +"Hello, Reb!" + +"Hello, Go-Get-'Em! Thought Goodheart was bringin' you back a prisoner." +Quantrell's old guerrilla looked with unconcealed surprise at the bound +man. He knew the story of Clanton's deep-rooted hatred of the Roush clan. + +"I didn't sign any bond to stay his prisoner," Jim answered dryly. Then, +sharply, he turned upon Roush. "Spill out yore story about Yankie." + +Reluctantly Roush told once more his tale. He spoke only under the +pressure of imminent peril, for he knew that if this ever got back to the +men in the chaparral they would kill him with no more compunction than +they would a coyote. + +"Take this bird down to Billie Prince, Reb. Tell him I jumped Roush on +the Ruidosa, an' he peached to save his hide. This fellow is a born liar, +but I reckon he's tellin' the truth this time. If he rues back on his +story, tell Billie to put an advertisement in the Live-Oaks 'Round-Up' +and I'll drop in to town an' have a stance with Mr. Roush." + +Reb scratched his sunburnt head. "I don't aim to be noways inquisitive, +Go-Get-'Em, but how come you to wait long enough to take this hawss-thief +captive? I'd 'a' bet my best mule team against a dollar Mex that you'd +have gunned him on sight." + +"I'll tell you why, Reb. He had one rifle an' one six-gun. I didn't have +either the one or the other, so I had to borrow his guns before I talked +turkey. By that time I'd changed my mind about bumpin' him off right now. +When Yankie finds out what he's been sayin' he'll do the trick for me." + +"You're right he will. Good job, too. I hate a sneak like I do a +side-winder." Reb turned to his prisoner. "Git a move on you, Roush. +I want this job over with. I'm no coyote herder." + + + + +Chapter XXXIII + +The Round-Up + + +Dumont had been on the grill for three hours. He had taken refuge in +dogged silence. He had been badgered into lies. He had broken down at +last and told the truth. Sheriff Billie Prince, keen as a hound on the +scent, persistent as a bulldog, peppered the man's defense with a +machine-gun fire of questions. Back of these loomed the shadow of a +long term in the penitentiary. + +For Dumont had been caught with his iron hot. The acrid smell of burnt +flesh was still in the air when an angry cattleman and two of his riders +came on the man and the rustled calf. Fortunately for the thief the +sheriff happened to be in the neighborhood. He had rescued the captured +waddy from the hands of the incensed ranchers and brought him straight to +Live-Oaks. + +The rustler was frightened. There had been a bad quarter of an hour when +it looked as though he might be the central figure in a lynching. Even +after this danger had been weathered, the outlook was full of gloom. He +had to choose between a long prison sentence and the betrayal of his +comrades. Dumont had no iron in his blood. He dodged and evaded and +bluffed--and at last threw up his hands. If the sheriff would protect him +from the vengeance of the gang, he would give any information wanted +or do anything he was told to do. + +The arrival of Reb and his prisoner interrupted the quiz. Prince had +Dumont returned to his cell and took up the new business of Roush and his +story. The sheriff knew he would be blamed for the escape of Clanton and +he thought it wise to have the whole matter opened up before witnesses. +Wallace Snaith and Dad Wrayburn both happened to be in town and Billie +sent the boss mule-skinner to bring them. To these men he turned over the +examination of Roush. + +They wrung from him, a scrap at a time, the story Yankie had told his +confederates at the camp-fire. A statement of the facts was drawn up +and signed by Roush under protest. It was witnessed by the four men +present. + +Devil Dave was locked up and Dumont brought back to the office of the +sheriff. Taken by surprise at the new form of the questionnaire, already +broken in spirit and therefore eager to conciliate these powerful +citizens, the rustler at once corroborated the story of Roush. He, too, +signed a statement drawn up by Prince. + +"Just shows, doggone it, how a man can be too blamed sure," commented +Wrayburn. "I'd 'a' bet my life Go-Get-'Em Jim killed Webb. But he +didn't. It's plain enough now. After his rookus with the old man, Yankie +must have got a seventy-three an' waited in the chaparral. It just +happened he was lyin' hid close to where we met Clanton. It beats the +Dutch." + +"An' if Jim hadn't escaped he'd have been hanged for killin' Webb." + +"That's right, sheriff. On my testimony, too. Say, let me go to the +Governor with these papers an' git the pardon. I'd like to give it to the +boy myself, jest to show him there's no hard feelin's," urged Wrayburn. + +"That's all right, Dad. I'm goin' to be right busy this next week, I +shouldn't wonder. I've got business up in the hills." + +"If you're goin' on a round-up, I hope you make a good gather, Prince," +said Snaith, smiling. + +Not in the history of Washington County had there been another such a +round-up as this one of which Sheriff Prince was the boss. He made his +plans swiftly and thoroughly. His posses were to sweep the country +between Saco de Oro Creek and Caballero Canon. Every gap was to be +stopped, every exit guarded. Dumont, much against his will, rode beside +the sheriff as guide. Goodheart had charge of the first party that went +out. His duty was to swing round and close the gulches to the north. Here +he would wait until the hunted men were driven into the trap he had set. +Old Reb, with a second posse, started next morning for the head-waters +of Seven-Mile Creek. An hour later the sheriff himself took the road. He +left town sooner than he had intended because Roush had escaped during +the night and was probably on his way into the hills to warn the +rustlers. + +Get them in a talkative mood and old-timers who took part in it will +still tell the story of that man-drive in the mountains. Riders combed +the draws and the buttes, eyes and ears alert for those who might lie +hidden on the rim rocks or in the cactus. It was grim business. Driven +out of their holes, the rustlers fought savagely. One, trapped in a hill +pocket, stood off a posse till he was shot to death. A second was +wounded, captured, and sent back with two other suspects to Live-Oaks. +At the end of a week Prince had the remnant of the band surrounded in a +mountain park close to Caballero Canon. + +The country into which the outlaws had been driven was an ideal terrain +for defense. The brush was thick and tall. Two wooded arroyos gashed the +rim of the valley and ran down into the basin. An attack against +determined men here was bound to prove costly. + +Billie knew that three men lay in the chaparral and he believed that one +of them at least was wounded. Old Reb had jumped them up from a fireless +camp, and in their hurry to escape the outlaws had left all their +provisions and two of their horses. They left, too, one of the posse with +a bullet hole in his forehead. The sheriff's plan was to tighten the +lines gradually and starve out the rustlers. + +But though Prince would not let his men advance to a general assault, he +made up his mind to find out more as to the condition of the men he had +surrounded. He wanted to make sure they had not slipped past his guards +into Caballero Canon. In the back of his head, too, was the feeling that +if he could get into touch with them, perhaps he might arrange for a +surrender. + +He called Goodheart to one side. "As soon as it's dark I'm goin' in to +find out what's doin'. We haven't heard a murmur from these birds for +hours. Perhaps they've flown. Anyhow, I'm goin' to find out." + +"How many of us are goin'?" + +"Just one of us--Billie Prince." + +"If two of us went--" + +"It would double the chances of discovery. No, I'm goin' alone. Maybe I +can have a talk with Albeen or Yankie. I don't want to take 'em dead, but +alive." + +"They'll probably get you while you're in there, Prince." + +"I don't think it. But if I'm not back by mornin' you are in charge of +this hunt. Use yore judgment." + +The deputy ventured one more protest, but his chief vetoed it. Billie had +decided what to do and argument did not touch him. + +He did not take a rifle. In the thick brush it would be hard to handle +noiselessly and the snapping of a twig might mean the difference between +life and death. The sheriff slipped into the tangle of cat-claw, prickly +pear, and mesquite, vanishing into the gloom from the sight of Goodheart. + +On the back of an envelope Dumont had drawn for him a rough map of the +valley. It showed that the wooded arroyos ran together like the spokes of +a wheel. The judgment of Prince was that he must look for the men he +wanted close to the angle of intersection. Up one or the other of these +draws it was likely they would make their dash for freedom, since +otherwise they would have to emerge into the open. Therefore, they would +hold the base of the V in order not to be cut off from the chance of +getting out of the trap. + +The sheriff snaked forward, most of the time on his stomach or on hands +and knees, for what seemed an interminable period. Each least movement +had to be planned and executed with precision. He dared not risk the +cracking of a dead branch or the rustle of dry foliage. As silently as +an Apache he wriggled through the grass. + +Billie became aware of a sound to the left. He listened. It presently +defined itself as a wheezing rattle halfway between a cough and a groan. + +Toward it Prince deflected. He knew himself to be now in the acute danger +zone, and he increased if possible his precautions. The moaning continued +intermittently. Billie wondered why, if this were the camp of the +outlaws, no other sound broke the stillness. Closer, inch by inch, making +the most of every bunch of yucca and cholla, the officer slowly crept. + +The figure of a man lay in the sand, the head resting on a folded +slicker. From time to time it moved slightly, and always the restlessness +was accompanied by the little throat rattle that had first attracted the +attention of the sheriff. The face, lying full in the moonlight, was of a +ghastly pallor. + +Prince lay crouched behind a pinon till he was sure the man was alone. It +was possible that his confederates might return at any moment, but Billie +could not let him suffer without aid. He stepped forward, revolver in +hand, every sense ready for instant response. + +The wounded man was Joe Yankie. The experienced eyes of Prince told him +that the rustler had not long to live. He was already in that twilight +region which is the border land between the known and the unknown. Billie +spoke his name, and for a moment the eyes of the man cleared. + +"Yore boys got me when they jumped our camp," he explained feebly. + +"Sorry, Joe. You were firin' when they hit you." + +The wounded man nodded. "'S all right. Streak o' bad luck. Gimme water. +I'm on fire," The officer unbuckled his canteen, lifted the head of the +dying man, and let the water trickle down his throat. Gently he lowered +the head again to the pillow. + +Then he asked a question. "Where are Albeen and--Roush?" + +The last name was a shot in the dark, but it hit the bull's eye. + +"Left--hours ago," + +Yankie closed his eyes wearily, but by sheer strength of will Prince +recalled him from the doze into which he was slipping. + +"Did you kill Homer Webb?" + +"Yes." + +"Had Clanton anything to do with it?" + +"No." + +A film gathered over the eyes of the dying man. The lids closed. Billie +adjusted the pillow a little more comfortably and rose. He could do no +more for him at present and he must set about his work. For though the +net of the round-up had gathered hundreds of stolen cattle and most of +those engaged in the business of brand-blotting, Prince knew his job +would not be finished if Roush and Albeen escaped. + +He quartered over the ground foot by foot. The camp of the rustlers had +been here and the footsteps showed there had been three. Yankie was +accounted for. That left Roush and Albeen. The sheriff discovered the +place where they had been sleeping. + +His eyes lit with the eagerness of the hunter who has come on the spoor. +He had found two sets of tracks leading from the bed-ground. One of these +showed no heel marks and the deep impress of toes in the soft sand. The +other presented a more sharply defined print with a greater distance +between the steps. They told Billie a story of a man tiptoeing away in +breathless silence, and of another man, wakened by some sound or by some +premonition, pursuing him in reckless haste. + +The imagination of the trailer built up a web of cause and effect. Two +men, with only one horse, were caught in a trap from which both were in a +desperate hurry to escape. Each, no doubt, was filled with suspicion of +the other while they waited for darkness to fall that they might try to +slip through the cordon of watchers. One of the at least, was unknown. If +he could make a get-away, _and leave no witness behind_, there would be +no proof positive that he was one of the rustlers. The situation was ripe +for tragedy. + +In the back of the sheriff's mind rose thoughts of something sinister +that had happened in the early hours of darkness. A chill ran down his +spine. He expected presently to stumble across something cold and chill +that only a little while ago had been warm with life. + +Prince recognized a weakness in his theory. If Roush was the man who had +tiptoed toward the horse in the pines, why had he not made sure first +by shooting Albeen while he slept? There was no absolute answer to that. +But it might be that the one-armed man had been dozing lightly and that +Roush had not the nerve to take a chance. For if his first shot failed to +kill, the betrayed man could still drop him. + +The trailer had no doubt in his mind that Roush was the man who had tried +to slip away to the horse. Albeen was a gun-fighter, quick on the shoot, +hasty of temper, but with the reputation of being both game and stanch. +It would not be in character for him to leave a companion in the lurch. + +In the scrub pines at the foot of the arroyo Prince found the place where +a horse had been tied. The footprints had diverged sharply toward a +duster of big boulders that rose in the grove. Billie did not at once +follow them. He wanted to make sure of another point first. + +Every sense alert against a possible surprise, he studied the ground +around the spot where the bronco had been fastened. One set of tracks +came straight from the big rocks to the hitching tree. Here all tracks +ended, except those of a galloping horse and the ones made by the man who +had originally left the animal here. + +One man had gone up the arroyo to slip through or to fight his way out of +the trap. The other man had stayed here. The officer knew what he would +find lying among the big rocks. + +The body lay face down, a revolver close to the still hand. Three +chambers of it had been fired. Prince turned over the heavy torso and +looked into the contorted face of Dave Roush. + +The man had fallen a victim to his own treachery. + + + + +Chapter XXXIV + +Primrose Paths + + +When Billie Prince had finished the job that had been given him to do, he +went back quietly to Live-Oaks without knowing that he had led the last +campaign of a revolution in the social life of Washington County. Because +a strong, determined man had carried law into the mesquite, citizens +could henceforth go about their business without fear or dread. + +The rule of the "bad man" was over. Revolvers were no longer a part of +the necessary wearing apparel of gentlemen of spirit. Life became safe +and humdrum. The frontier world gave itself to ploughing fields and +building fences and digging irrigation ditches and planting orchards. As +a corollary it married and reared children and built little red +schoolhouses. + +But before all this came to pass some details had to be arranged in the +lives of certain young people of the country. In one instance, at least, +Lee Snaith appointed herself adjuster in behalf of Cupid. + +Goodheart reached town a few hours earlier than his chief. Lee met him +just before supper in front of the court-house. + +"Where's Billie?" she asked with characteristic directness. + +"He's on his way back. A wounded man couldn't be moved an' he had to stay +with him a while. The man was Joe Yankie. A messenger just got in to say +he died." + +"Billie isn't wounded?" + +"No. Not his fault, though. When we had the rustlers cornered, he crawled +in through the brush to their camp. Fool business, I told him. Never saw +anything gamer. Lucky for him Albeen had made his get-away." + +The eyes of the girl thanked the deputy for this indirect praise. Little +patches of red burned in her dusky cheeks. The way to make a life friend +of her was to be fond of Billie. + +Lee changed the subject abruptly. "Jack, you haven't half the sense I +thought you had." + +"Much obliged," he answered sardonically. She was looking straight at him +and he knew what was in her mind. + +"If I was a man--and if the nicest girl in the world was in love with +me--I'd try not to be as stiff as a poker." + +"I'm as stiff as a poker, am I?" + +"Yes." The dark eyes of the young woman were eager pools of light. "She's +the truest-hearted girl I ever saw--the best friend, the loyalest +comrade. I should think you'd be ashamed to set yourself up to judge +her." + +"Of course, you're not settin' yourself up to judge _me_, Lee?" + +"I'm going to tell you what I think. The others are afraid of you because +you can put on that high-and-mighty, stand-offish air. Well, I'm not." + +"I see you're not." + +"She told me all about it. Since she was Polly Roubideau she had to help +Jim escape. Can't you see that? She knew he was innocent, and it turned +out she was right. Suppose she made a mistake--and I don't admit it for a +minute. Can't you make allowance for other folks' judgment being +different from yours? Are you never wrong yourself?" + +"It isn't a question of judgment." + +He hesitated and decided to say no more. How could he tell Lee that +Pauline had deliberately misled him to give Clanton a better chance of +escape? He had fought it out a hundred times in his mind, but he could +not escape the conviction that she had made a tool of his love. + +The girl went to the heart of the matter. "Polly loves you, and she is +breaking her heart because of your wretched pride. If you don't go +straight to her and beg her pardon for your want of faith in her, you're +not half the man I think you are, Jack Goodheart." + +A warm glow of hope flushed through his blood. + +"How do you know she loves me?" + +"Because--because--" Lee stopped. She did not intend to betray any +confidences. "I know it. That's enough." + +He threw away impulsively the prudent pride that he had been nourishing. +"Where can I find Polly?" + +"You're being invited to supper at my aunt's this evening. I'll not be +home for half an hour, but if you go right up, maybe you can find some +one to entertain you." + +He buried her little hand in his big paw and strode away. She watched +him, a soft tenderness shining in her eyes. Lee was a lover herself, and +she wanted everybody in the world to be as happy as she was. + +Two horsemen rode down the street toward her. She looked up. One of them +was Billie Prince, the other Jim Clanton. + +The younger man gave a shout of gay greeting. "Yip-ee yippy yip." He +leaned from the cowpony and gave her his gloved hand. "I've brought him +back to you. He sure did make a good clean-up. I'm the only bad man left +in Washington County." + +She met his impudent little smile with friendly eyes. "Dad Wrayburn's +back from Santa Fe with the pardon, Jim. I'm so glad." + +"I'm some glad myself. Do you want me to shut my eyes whilst you an' +Billie--" + +The sheriff knocked the rest of the sentence out of him with a vigorous +thump on the back. + +While Lee and her lover shook hands their eyes held fast to each other. + +"Good to see you, Billie," she said. + +"Same here, Lee." + +"When you and Jim have put up your horses I want you to come up to aunt's +for supper." + +"We'll be there." + +It was not a very gay little supper. Pauline and Jack Goodheart had very +little to say for themselves, but in their eyes were bright pools of +happiness. Clanton sustained the burden of the talk, assisted in a +desultory fashion by Lee and Billie. But there was so much quiet joy at +the table that for years the hour was one fenced off from all the others +of their lives. Even Jim, who for the first time felt himself almost an +outsider, since he did not belong to the close communion of lovers, could +find plenty for which to be thankful. + +He made an announcement before he left. "There's no room here for me now +that you lads are marryin' all my girls. I'm goin' to hit the trail. It's +Texas for me. I've got a letter in my pocket offerin' me a job as a +Ranger an' I'm goin' to take it." + +They shook hands with him in warm congratulation. Their friend was no +longer a killer. He had definitely turned his back on lawlessness and +would henceforth walk with the law. The problem of what was to become of +Go-Get-'Em Jim was solved. + +As to the problem of their own futures, that did not disturb these happy +egoists in the least. Life beckoned them to primrose paths. It is the +good fortune of lovers that their vision never pierces the shadows in +which lie the sorrows of the years and the griefs that wear them gray. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Man Four-Square, by William MacLeod Raine + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN FOUR-SQUARE *** + +***** This file should be named 14171.txt or 14171.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/1/7/14171/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/14171.zip b/old/14171.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff216be --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14171.zip |