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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:44:51 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:44:51 -0700 |
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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/14574-0.txt b/14574-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d5d573a --- /dev/null +++ b/14574-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10459 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14574 *** + + GUNSIGHT PASS + + HOW OIL CAME TO THE CATTLE COUNTRY AND BROUGHT A NEW WEST + + BY WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE + +AUTHOR OF THE BIG-TOWN ROUND-UP, A MAN FOUR SQUARE, THE YUKON TRAIL, ETC. + + 1921 + + + + +TO JAMES H. LANGLEY + +WHO LIVED MANY OF THESE PAGES IN THE DAYS OF HIS HOT-BLOODED YOUTH + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. "CROOKED AS A DOG'S HIND LAIG" + + II. THE RACE + + III. DAVE RIDES ON HIS SPURS + + IV. THE PAINT HOSS DISAPPEARS + + V. SUPPER AT DELMONICO'S INTERRUPTED + + VI. BY WAY OF A WINDOW + + VII. BOB HART TAKES A HAND + + VIII. THE D BAR LAZY R BOYS MEET AN ANGEL + + IX. GUNSIGHT PASS + + X. THE CATTLE TRAIN + + XI. THE NIGHT CLERK GETS BUSY PRONTO + + XII. THE LAW PUZZLES DAVE + + XIII. FOR MURDER + + XIV. TEN YEARS + + XV. IN DENVER + + XVI. DAVE MEETS TWO FRIENDS AND A FOE + + XVII. OIL + + XVIII. DOBLE PAYS A VISIT + + XIX. AN INVOLUNTARY BATH + + XX. THE LITTLE MOTHER FREES HER MIND + + XXI. THE HOLD-UP + + XXII. NUMBER THREE COMES IN + + XXIII. THE GUSHER + + XXIV. SHORTY + + XXV. MILLER TALKS + + XXVI. DAVE ACCEPTS AN INVITATION + + XXVII. AT THE JACKPOT + + XXVIII. DAVE MEETS A FINANCIER + + XXIX. THREE IN CONSULTATION + + XXX. ON THE FLYER + + XXXI. TWO ON THE HILLTOPS + + XXXII. DAVE BECOMES AN OFFICE MAN + + XXXIII. ON THE DODGE + + XXXIV. A PLEASANT EVENING + + XXXV. FIRE IN THE CHAPARRAL + + XXXVI. FIGHTING FIRE + + XXXVII. SHORTY ASK A QUESTION + + XXXVIII. DUG DOBLE RIDES INTO THE HILLS + + XXXIX. THE TUNNEL + + XL. A MESSAGE + + XLI. HANK BRINGS BAD NEWS + + XLII. SHORTY IS AWAKENED + + XLIII. JUAN OTERO IS CONSCRIPTED + + XLIV. THE BULLDOG BARKS + + XLV. JOYCE MAKES PIES + + + + +GUNSIGHT PASS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +"CROOKED AS A DOG'S HIND LAIG" + + +It was a land of splintered peaks, of deep, dry gorges, of barren mesas +burnt by the suns of a million torrid summers. The normal condition of it +was warfare. Life here had to protect itself with a tough, callous rind, +to attack with a swift, deadly sting. Only the fit survived. + +But moonlight had magically touched the hot, wrinkled earth with a fairy +godmother's wand. It was bathed in a weird, mysterious beauty. Into the +crotches of the hills lakes of wondrous color had been poured at sunset. +The crests had flamed with crowns of glory, the cañons become deep pools +of blue and purple shadow. Blurred by kindly darkness, the gaunt ridges +had softened to pastels of violet and bony mountains to splendid +sentinels keeping watch over a gulf of starlit space. + +Around the camp-fire the drivers of the trail herd squatted on their +heels or lay sprawled at indolent ease. The glow of the leaping flames +from the twisted mesquite lit their lean faces, tanned to bronzed health +by the beat of an untempered sun and the sweep of parched winds. Most of +them were still young, scarcely out of their boyhood; a few had reached +maturity. But all were products of the desert. The high-heeled boots, the +leather chaps, the kerchiefs knotted round the neck, were worn at its +insistence. Upon every line of their features, every shade of their +thought, it had stamped its brand indelibly. + +The talk was frank and elemental. It had the crisp crackle that goes with +free, unfettered youth. In a parlor some of it would have been offensive, +but under the stars of the open desert it was as natural as the life +itself. They spoke of the spring rains, of the Crawford-Steelman feud, of +how they meant to turn Malapi upside down in their frolic when they +reached town. They "rode" each other with jokes that were familiar old +friends. Their horse play was rough but good-natured. + +Out of the soft shadows of the summer night a boy moved from the remuda +toward the camp-fire. He was a lean, sandy-haired young fellow, his +figure still lank and unfilled. In another year his shoulders would be +broader, his frame would take on twenty pounds. As he sat down on the +wagon tongue at the edge of the firelit circle the stringiness of his +appearance became more noticeable. + +A young man waved a hand toward him by way of introduction. "Gents of the +D Bar Lazy R outfit, we now have with us roostin' on the wagon tongue Mr. +David Sanders, formerly of Arizona, just returned from makin' love to his +paint hoss. Mr. Sanders will make oration on the why, wherefore, and +how-come-it of Chiquito's superiority to all other equines whatever." + +The youth on the wagon tongue smiled. His blue eyes were gentle and +friendly. From his pocket he had taken a knife and was sharpening it on +one of his dawn-at-the-heel-boots. + +"I'd like right well to make love to that pinto my own se'f, Bob," +commented a weather-beaten puncher. "Any old time Dave wants to saw him +off onto me at sixty dollars I'm here to do business." + +"You're sure an easy mark, Buck," grunted a large fat man leaning against +a wheel. His white, expressionless face and soft hands differentiated him +from the tough range-riders. He did not belong with the outfit, but had +joined it the day before with George Doble, a half-brother of the trail +foreman, to travel with it as far as Malapi. In the Southwest he was +known as Ad Miller. The two men had brought with them in addition to +their own mounts a led pack-horse. + +Doble backed up his partner. "Sure are, Buck. I can get cowponies for ten +and fifteen dollars--all I want of 'em," he said, and contrived by the +lift of his lip to make the remark offensive. + +"Not ponies like Chiquito," ventured Sanders amiably. + +"That so?" jeered Doble. + +He looked at David out of a sly and shifty eye. He had only one. The +other had been gouged out years ago in a drunken fracas. + +"You couldn't get Chiquito for a hundred dollars. Not for sale," the +owner of the horse said, a little stiffly. + +Miller's fat paunch shook with laughter. "I reckon not--at that price. +I'd give all of fohty for him." + +"Different here," replied Doble. "What has this pinto got that makes him +worth over thirty?" + +"He's some bronc," explained Bob Hart. "Got a bagful of tricks, a nice +disposition, and sure can burn the wind." + +"Yore friend must be valuin' them parlor tricks at ten dollars apiece," +murmured Miller. "He'd ought to put him in a show and not keep him to +chase cow tails with." + +"At that, I've seen circus hosses that weren't one two three with +Chiquito. He'll shake hands and play dead and dance to a mouth-organ and +come a-runnin' when Dave whistles." + +"You don't say." The voice of the fat man was heavy with sarcasm. "And on +top of all that edjucation he can run too." + +The temper of Sanders began to take an edge. He saw no reason why these +strangers should run on him, to use the phrase of the country. "I don't +claim my pinto's a racer, but he can travel." + +"Hmp!" grunted Miller skeptically. + +"I'm here to say he can," boasted the owner, stung by the manner of the +other. + +"Don't look to me like no racer," Doble dissented. "Why, I'd be 'most +willin' to bet that pack-horse of ours, Whiskey Bill, can beat him." + +Buck Byington snorted. "Pack-horse, eh?" The old puncher's brain was +alive with suspicions. On account of the lameness of his horse he had +returned to camp in the middle of the day and had discovered the two +newcomers trying out the speed of the pinto. He wondered now if this +precious pair of crooks had been getting a line on the pony for future +use. It occurred to him that Dave was being engineered into a bet. + +The chill, hard eyes of Miller met his. "That's what he said, Buck--our +pack-horse." + +For just an instant the old range-rider hesitated, then shrugged his +shoulders. It was none of his business. He was a cautious man, not +looking for trouble. Moreover, the law of the range is that every man +must play his own hand. So he dropped the matter with a grunt that +expressed complete understanding and derision. + +Bob Hart helped things along. "Jokin' aside, what's the matter with a +race? We'll be on the Salt Flats to-morrow. I've got ten bucks says the +pinto can beat yore Whiskey Bill." + +"Go you once," answered Doble after a moment's apparent consideration. +"Bein' as I'm drug into this I'll be a dead-game sport. I got fifty +dollars more to back the pack-horse. How about it, Sanders? You got +the sand to cover that? Or are you plumb scared of my broomtail?" + +"Betcha a month's pay--thirty-five dollars. Give you an order on the boss +if I lose," retorted Dave. He had not meant to bet, but he could not +stand this fellow's insolent manner. + +"That order good, Dug?" asked Doble of his half-brother. + +The foreman nodded. He was a large leather-faced man in the late +thirties. His reputation in the cattle country was that of a man ill to +cross. Dug Doble was a good cowman--none better. Outside of that his +known virtues were negligible, except for the primal one of gameness. + +"Might as well lose a few bucks myself, seeing as Whiskey Bill belongs to +me," said Miller with his wheezy laugh. "Who wants to take a whirl, +boys?" + +Inside of three minutes he had placed a hundred dollars. The terms of the +race were arranged and the money put in the hands of the foreman. + +"Each man to ride his own caballo," suggested Hart slyly. + +This brought a laugh. The idea of Ad Miller's two hundred and fifty +pounds in the seat of a jockey made for hilarity. + +"I reckon George will have to ride the broomtail. We don't aim to break +its back," replied Miller genially. + +His partner was a short man with a spare, wiry body. Few men trusted him +after a glance at the mutilated face. The thin, hard lips gave warning +that he had sold himself to evil. The low forehead, above which the hair +was plastered flat in an arc, advertised low mentality. + +An hour later Buck Byington drew Sanders aside. + +"Dave, you're a chuckle-haided rabbit. If ever I seen tinhorn sports them +two is such. They're collectin' a livin' off'n suckers. Didn't you sabe +that come-on stuff? Their pack-horse is a ringer. They tried him out +this evenin', but I noticed they ran under a blanket. Both of 'em are +crooked as a dog's hind laig." + +"Maybeso," admitted the young man. "But Chiquito never went back on me +yet. These fellows may be overplayin' their hand, don't you reckon?" + +"Not a chanct. That tumblebug Miller is one fishy proposition, and his +sidekick Doble--say, he's the kind of bird that shoots you in the stomach +while he's shakin' hands with you. They're about as warm-hearted as a +loan shark when he's turnin' on the screws--and about as impulsive. Me, +I aim to button up my pocket when them guys are around." + +Dave returned to the fire. The two visitors were sitting side by side, +and the leaping flames set fantastic shadows of them moving. One of +these, rooted where Miller sat, was like a bloated spider watching its +victim. The other, dwarfed and prehensile, might in its uncanny +silhouette have been an imp of darkness from the nether regions. + +Most of the riders had already rolled up in their blankets and fallen +asleep. To a reduced circle Miller was telling the story of how his +pack-horse won its name. + +"... so I noticed he was actin' kinda funny and I seen four pin-pricks in +his nose. O' course I hunted for Mr. Rattler and killed him, then give +Bill a pint of whiskey. It ce'tainly paralyzed him proper. He got +salivated as a mule whacker on a spree. His nose swelled up till it was +big as a barrel--never did get down to normal again. Since which the ol' +plug has been Whiskey Bill." + +This reminiscence did not greatly entertain Dave. He found his blankets, +rolled up in them, and promptly fell asleep. For once he dreamed, and his +dreams were not pleasant. He thought that he was caught in a net woven by +a horribly fat spider which watched him try in vain to break the web that +tightened on his arms and legs. Desperately he struggled to escape while +the monster grinned at him maliciously, and the harder he fought the more +securely was he enmeshed. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE RACE + + +The coyotes were barking when the cook's triangle brought Dave from his +blankets. The objects about him were still mysterious in the pre-dawn +darkness. The shouting of the wranglers and the bells of the remuda +came musically as from a great distance. Hart joined his friend and the +two young men walked out to the remuda together. Each rider had on the +previous night belled the mount he wanted, for he knew that in the +morning it would be too dark to distinguish one bronco from another. The +animals were rim-milling, going round and round in a circle to escape the +lariat. + +Dave rode in close and waited, rope ready, his ears attuned to the sound +of his own bell. A horse rushed jingling past. The rope snaked out, fell +true, tightened over the neck of the cowpony, brought up the animal +short. Instantly it surrendered, making no further, attempt to escape. +The roper made a half-hitch round the nose of the bronco, swung to its +back, and cantered back to camp. + +In the gray dawn near details were becoming visible. The mountains began +to hover on the edge of the young world. The wind was blowing across half +a continent. + +Sanders saddled, then rode out upon the mesa. He whistled sharply. There +came an answering nicker, and presently out of the darkness a pony +trotted. The pinto was a sleek and glossy little fellow, beautiful in +action and gentle as a kitten. + +The young fellow took the well-shaped head in his arms, fondled the +soft, dainty nose that nuzzled in his pocket for sugar, fed Chiquito a +half-handful of the delicacy in his open palm, and put the pony through +the repertoire of tricks he had taught his pet. + +"You wanta shake a leg to-day, old fellow, and throw dust in that +tinhorn's face," he murmured to his four-footed friend, gentling it with +little pats of love and admiration. "Adios, Chiquito. I know you won't +throw off on yore old pal. So long, old pie-eater." + +Across the mesa Dave galloped back, swung from the saddle, and made a +bee-line for breakfast. The other men were already busy at this important +business. From the tail of the chuck wagon he took a tin cup and a tin +plate. He helped himself to coffee, soda biscuits, and a strip of steak +just forked from a large kettle of boiling lard. Presently more coffee, +more biscuits, and more steak went the way of the first helping. The +hard-riding life of the desert stimulates a healthy appetite. + +The punchers of the D Bar Lazy R were moving a large herd to a new range. +It was made up of several lots bought from smaller outfits that had gone +out of business under the pressure of falling prices, short grass, and +the activity of rustlers. The cattle had been loose-bedded in a gulch +close at hand, the upper end of which was sealed by an impassable cliff. +Many such cañons in the wilder part of the mountains, fenced across the +face to serve as a corral, had been used by rustlers as caches into which +to drift their stolen stock. This one had no doubt more than once played +such a part in days past. + +Expertly the riders threw the cattle back to the mesa and moved them +forward. Among the bunch one could find the T Anchor brand, the Circle +Cross, the Diamond Tail, and the X-Z, scattered among the cows burned +with the D Bar Lazy R, which was the original brand of the owner, +Emerson Crawford. + +The sun rose and filled the sky. In a heavy cloud of dust the cattle +trailed steadily toward the distant hills. + +Near noon Buck, passing Dave where he rode as drag driver in the wake of +the herd, shouted a greeting at the young man. "Tur'ble hot. I'm spittin' +cotton." + +Dave nodded. His eyes were red and sore from the alkali dust, his throat +dry as a lime kiln. "You done, said it, Buck. Hotter 'n hell or Yuma." + +"Dug says for us to throw off at Seven-Mile Hole." + +"I won't make no holler at that." + +The herd leaders, reading the signs of a spring close at hand, quickened +the pace. With necks outstretched, bawling loudly, they hurried forward. +Forty-eight hours ago they had last satisfied their thirst. Usually Doble +watered each noon, but the desert yesterday had been dry as Sahara. Only +such moisture was available as could be found in black grama and needle +grass. + +The point of the herd swung in toward the cottonwoods that straggled down +from the draw. For hours the riders were kept busy moving forward the +cattle that had been watered and holding back the pressure of thirsty +animals. + +Again the outfit took the desert trail. Heat waves played on the sand. +Vegetation grew scant except for patches of cholla and mesquite, a +sand-cherry bush here and there, occasionally a clump of shining poison +ivy. + +Sunset brought them to the Salt Flats. The foreman gave orders to throw +off and make camp. + +A course was chosen for the race. From a selected point the horses +were to run to a clump of mesquite, round it, and return to the +starting-place. Dug Doble was chosen both starter and judge. + +Dave watched Whiskey Bill with the trained eyes of a horseman. The animal +was an ugly brute as to the head. Its eyes were set too close, and the +shape of the nose was deformed from the effects of the rattlesnake's +sting. But in legs and body it had the fine lines of a racer. The horse +was built for speed. The cowpuncher's heart sank. His bronco was fast, +willing, and very intelligent, but the little range pony had not been +designed to show its heels to a near-thoroughbred. + +"Are you ready?" Doble asked of the two men in the saddles. + +His brother said, "Let 'er go!" Sanders nodded. The revolver barked. + +Chiquito was off like a flash of light, found its stride instantly. The +training of a cowpony makes for alertness, for immediate response. Before +it had covered seventy-five yards the pinto was three lengths to the +good. Dave, flying toward the halfway post, heard his friend Hart's +triumphant "Yip yip yippy yip!" coming to him on the wind. + +He leaned forward, patting his horse on the shoulder, murmuring words of +encouragement into its ear. But he knew, without turning round, that the +racer galloping at his heels was drawing closer. Its long shadow thrown +in front of it by the westering sun, reached to Dave's stirrups, crept to +Chiquito's head, moved farther toward the other shadow plunging wildly +eastward. Foot by foot the distance between the horses lessened to two +lengths, to one, to half a length. The ugly head of the racer came +abreast of the cowpuncher. With sickening certainty the range-rider knew +that his Chiquito was doing the best that was in it. Whiskey Bill was a +faster horse. + +Simultaneously he became aware of two things. The bay was no longer +gaining. The halfway mark was just ahead. The cowpuncher knew exactly how +to make the turn with the least possible loss of speed and ground. Too +often, in headlong pursuit of a wild hill steer, he had whirled as on a +dollar, to leave him any doubt now. Scarce slackening speed, he swept the +pinto round the clump of mesquite and was off for home. + +Dave was halfway back before he was sure that the thud of Whiskey Bill's +hoofs was almost at his heels. He called on the cowpony for a last spurt. +The plucky little horse answered the call, gathered itself for the home +stretch, for a moment held its advantage. Again Bob Hart's yell drifted +to Sanders. + +Then he knew that the bay was running side by side with Chiquito, was +slowly creeping to the front. The two horses raced down the stretch +together, Whiskey Bill half a length in the lead and gaining at every +stride. Daylight showed between them when they crossed the line. Chiquito +had been outrun by a speedier horse. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DAVE RIDES ON HIS SPURS + + +Hart came up to his friend grinning. "Well, you old horn-toad, we got no +kick comin'. Chiquito run a mighty pretty race. Only trouble was his +laigs wasn't long enough." + +The owner of the pony nodded, a lump in his throat. He was not thinking +about his thirty-five dollars, but about the futile race into which he +had allowed his little beauty to be trapped. Dave would not be twenty-one +till coming grass, and it still hurt his boyish pride to think that his +favorite had been beaten. + +Another lank range-rider drifted up. "Same here, Dave. I'll kiss my +twenty bucks good-bye cheerful. You 'n' the li'l hoss run the best race, +at that. Chiquito started like a bullet out of a gun, and say, boys! how +he did swing round on the turn." + +"Much obliged, Steve. I reckon he sure done his best," said Sanders +gratefully. + +The voice of George Doble cut in, openly and offensively jubilant. "Me, +I'd ruther show the way at the finish than at the start. You're more +liable to collect the mazuma. I'll tell you now that broomtail never +had a chance to beat Whiskey Bill." + +"Yore hoss can run, seh," admitted Dave. + +"I _know_ it, but you don't. He didn't have to take the kinks out of his +legs to beat that plug." + +"You get our money," said Hart quietly. "Ain't that enough without +rubbin' it in?" + +"Sure I get yore money--easy money, at that," boasted Doble. "Got any +more you want to put up on the circus bronc?" + +Steve Russell voiced his sentiments curtly. "You make me good and tired, +Doble. There's only one thing I hate more'n a poor loser--and that's a +poor winner. As for putting my money on the pinto, I'll just say this: +I'll bet my li'l' pile he can beat yore bay twenty miles, a hundred +miles, or five hundred." + +"Not any, thanks. Whiskey Bill is a racer, not a mule team," Miller said, +laughing. + +Steve loosened the center-fire cinch of his pony's saddle. He noted that +there was no real geniality in the fat man's mirth. It was a surface +thing designed to convey an effect of good-fellowship. Back of it lay +the chill implacability of the professional gambler. + +The usual give-and-take of gay repartee was missing at supper that night. +Since they were of the happy-go-lucky, outdoor West it did not greatly +distress the D Bar Lazy R riders to lose part of their pay checks. Even +if it had, their spirits would have been unimpaired, for it is written in +their code that a man must take his punishment without whining. What hurt +was that they had been tricked, led like lambs to the killing. None of +them doubted now that the pack-horse of the gamblers was a "ringer." +These men had deliberately crossed the path of the trail outfit in order +to take from the vaqueros their money. + +The punchers were sulky. Instead of a fair race they had been up against +an open-and-shut proposition, as Russell phrased it. The jeers of Doble +did not improve their tempers. The man was temperamentally mean-hearted. +He could not let his victims alone. + +"They say one's born every minute, Ad. Dawged if I don't believe it," he +sneered. + +Miller was not saying much himself, but his fat stomach shook at this +sally. If his partner could goad the boys into more betting he was quite +willing to divide the profits. + +Audibly Hart yawned and murmured his sentiments aloud. "I'm liable to +tell these birds what I think of 'em, Steve, if they don't spend quite +some time layin' off'n us." + +"Don't tell us out loud. We might hear you," advised Doble insolently. + +"In regards to that, I'd sure worry if you did." + +Dave was at that moment returning to his place with a cup of hot coffee. +By some perverse trick of fate his glance fell on Doble's sinister face +of malignant triumph. His self-control snapped, and in an instant the +whole course of his life was deflected from the path it would otherwise +have taken. With a flip he tossed up the tin cup so that the hot coffee +soused the crook. + +"Goddlemighty!" screamed Doble, leaping to his feet. He reached for his +forty-five, just as Sanders closed with him. The range-rider's revolver, +like that of most of his fellows, was in a blanket roll in the wagon. + +Miller, with surprising agility for a fat man, got to his feet and +launched himself at the puncher. Dave flung the smaller of his opponents +back against Steve, who was sitting tailor fashion beside him. The gunman +tottered and fell over Russell, who lost no time in pinning his hands to +the ground while Hart deftly removed the revolver from his pocket. + +Swinging round to face Miller, Dave saw at once that the big man had +chosen not to draw his gun. In spite of his fat the gambler was a +rough-and-tumble fighter of parts. The extra weight had come in recent +years, but underneath it lay roped muscles and heavy bones. Men often +remarked that they had never seen a fat man who could handle himself like +Ad Miller. The two clinched. Dave had the under hold and tried to trip +his bulkier foe. The other side-stepped, circling round. He got one hand +under the boy's chin and drove it up and back, flinging the range-rider +a dozen yards. + +Instantly Dave plunged at him. He had to get at close quarters, for he +could not tell when Miller would change his mind and elect to fight with +a gun. The man had chosen a hand-to-hand tussle, Dave knew, because he +was sure he could beat so stringy an opponent as himself. Once he got the +grip on him that he wanted the big gambler would crush him by sheer +strength. So, though the youngster had to get close, he dared not clinch. +His judgment was that his best bet was his fists. + +He jabbed at the big white face, ducked, and jabbed again. Now he was in +the shine of the moon; now he was in darkness. A red streak came out on +the white face opposite, and he knew he had drawn blood. Miller roared +like a bull and flailed away at him. More than one heavy blow jarred him, +sent a bolt of pain shooting through him. The only thing he saw was that +shining face. He pecked away at it with swift jabs, taking what +punishment he must and dodging the rest. + +Miller was furious. He had intended to clean up this bantam in about a +minute. He rushed again, broke through Dave's defense, and closed with +him. His great arms crushed into the ribs of his lean opponent. As they +swung round and round, Dave gasped for breath. He twisted and squirmed, +trying to escape that deadly hug. Somehow he succeeded in tripping his +huge foe. + +They went down locked together, Dave underneath. The puncher knew that if +he had room Miller would hammer his face to a pulp. He drew himself close +to the barrel body, arms and legs wound tight like hoops. + +Miller gave a yell of pain. Instinctively Dave moved his legs higher and +clamped them tighter. The yell rose again, became a scream of agony. + +"Lemme loose!" shrieked the man on top. "My Gawd, you're killin' me!" + +Dave had not the least idea what was disturbing Miller's peace of mind, +but whatever it was moved to his advantage. He clamped tighter, working +his heels into another secure position. The big man bellowed with pain. +"Take him off! Take him off!" he implored in shrill crescendo. + +"What's all this?" demanded an imperious voice. + +Miller was torn howling from the arms and legs that bound him and Dave +found himself jerked roughly to his feet. The big raw-boned foreman was +glaring at him above his large hook nose. The trail boss had been out +at the remuda with the jingler when the trouble began. He had arrived +in time to rescue his fat friend. + +"What's eatin' you, Sanders?" he demanded curtly. + +"He jumped George!" yelped Miller. + +Breathing hard, Dave faced his foe warily. He was in a better strategic +position than he had been, for he had pulled the revolver of the fat man +from its holster just as they were dragged apart. It was in his right +hand now, pressed close to his hip, ready for instant use if need be. He +could see without looking that Doble was still struggling ineffectively +in the grip of Russell. + +"Dave stumbled and spilt some coffee on George; then George he tried to +gun him. Miller mixed in then," explained Hart. + +The foreman glared. "None of this stuff while you're on the trail with my +outfit. Get that, Sanders? I won't have it." + +"Dave he couldn't hardly he'p hisse'f," Buck Byington broke in. "They was +runnin' on him considerable, Dug." + +"I ain't askin' for excuses. I'm tellin' you boys what's what," retorted +the road boss. "Sanders, give him his gun." + +The cowpuncher took a step backward. He had no intention of handing a +loaded gun to Miller while the gambler was in his present frame of mind. +That might be equivalent to suicide. He broke the revolver, turned the +cylinder, and shook out the cartridges. The empty weapon he tossed on the +ground. + +"He ripped me with his spurs," Miller said sullenly. "That's howcome I +had to turn him loose." + +Dave looked down at the man's legs. His trousers were torn to shreds. +Blood trickled down the lacerated calves where the spurs had roweled the +flesh cruelly. No wonder Miller had suddenly lost interest in the fight. +The vaquero thanked his lucky stars that he had not taken off his spurs +and left them with the saddle. + +The first thing that Dave did was to strike straight for the wagon where +his roll of bedding was. He untied the rope, flung open the blankets, and +took from inside the forty-five he carried to shoot rattlesnakes. This he +shoved down between his shirt and trousers where it would be handy for +use in case of need. His roll he brought back with him as a justification +for the trip to the wagon. He had no intention of starting anything. +All he wanted was not to be caught at a disadvantage a second time. + +Miller and the two Dobles were standing a little way apart talking +together in low tones. The fat man, his foot on the spoke of a wagon +wheel, was tying up one of his bleeding calves with a bandanna +handkerchief. Dave gathered that his contribution to the conversation +consisted mainly of fervent and almost tearful profanity. + +The brothers appeared to be debating some point with heat. George +insisted, and the foreman gave up with a lift of his big shoulders. + +"Have it yore own way. I hate to have you leave us after I tell you +there'll be no more trouble, but if that's how you feel about it I got +nothin' to say. What I want understood is this"--Dug Doble raised his +voice for all to hear--"that I'm boss of this outfit and won't stand for +any rough stuff. If the boys, or any one of 'em, can't lose their money +without bellyachin', they can get their time pronto." + +The two gamblers packed their race-horse, saddled, and rode away without +a word to any of the range-riders. The men round the fire gave no sign +that they knew the confidence men were on the map until after they had +gone. Then tongues began to wag, the foreman having gone to the edge of +the camp with them. + +"Well, my feelin's ain't hurt one li'l' bit because they won't play with +us no more," Steve Russell said, smiling broadly. + +"Can you blame that fat guy for not wantin' to play with Dave here?" +asked Hart, and he beamed at the memory of what he had seen. "Son, you +ce'tainly gave him one surprise party when yore rowels dug in." + +"Wonder to me he didn't stampede the cows, way he hollered," grinned a +third. "I don't grudge him my ten plunks. Not none. Dave he give me my +money's worth that last round." + +"I had a little luck," admitted Dave modestly. + +"Betcha," agreed Steve. "I was just startin' over to haul the fat guy off +Dave when he began bleatin' for us to come help him turn loose the bear. +I kinda took my time then." + +"Onct I went to a play called 'All's Well That Ends Well,'" said Byington +reminiscently. "At the Tabor Grand the-á-ter, in Denver." + +"Did it tell how a freckled cow-punch rode a fat tinhorn on his spurs?" +asked Hart. + +"Bet he wears stovepipes on his laigs next time he mixes it with Dave," +suggested one coffee-brown youth. "Well, looks like the show's over for +to-night. I'm gonna roll in." Motion carried unanimously. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE PAINT HOSS DISAPPEARS + + +Wakened by the gong, Dave lay luxuriously in the warmth of his blankets. +It was not for several moments that he remembered the fight or the +circumstances leading to it. The grin that lit his boyish face at thought +of its unexpected conclusion was a fleeting one, for he discovered that +it hurt his face to smile. Briskly he rose, and grunted "Ouch!" His sides +were sore from the rib squeezing of Miller's powerful arms. + +Byington walked out to the remuda with him. "How's the man-tamer this +glad mo'nin'?" he asked of Dave. + +"Fine and dandy, old lizard." + +"You sure got the deadwood on him when yore spurs got into action. A +man's like a watermelon. You cayn't tell how good he is till you thump +him. Miller is right biggity, and they say he's sudden death with a gun. +But when it come down to cases he hadn't the guts to go through and stand +the gaff." + +"He's been livin' soft too long, don't you reckon?" + +"No, sir. He just didn't have the sand in his craw to hang on and finish +you off whilst you was rippin' up his laigs." + +Dave roped his mount and rode out to meet Chiquito. The pinto was an +aristocrat in his way. He preferred to choose his company, was a little +disdainful of the cowpony that had no accomplishments. Usually he grazed +a short distance from the remuda, together with one of Bob Hart's string. +The two ponies had been brought up in the same bunch. + +This morning Dave's whistle brought no nicker of joy, no thud of hoofs +galloping out of the darkness to him. He rode deeper into the desert. No +answer came to his calls. At a canter he cut across the plain to the +wrangler. That young man had seen nothing of Chiquito since the evening +before, but this was not at all unusual. + +The cowpuncher returned to camp for breakfast and got permission of the +foreman to look for the missing horses. + +Beyond the flats was a country creased with draws and dry arroyos. From +one to another of these Dave went without finding a trace of the animals. +All day he pushed through cactus and mesquite heavy with gray dust. In +the late afternoon he gave up for the time and struck back to the flats. +It was possible that the lost broncos had rejoined the remuda of their +own accord or had been found by some of the riders gathering up strays. + +Dave struck the herd trail and followed it toward the new camp. A +horseman came out of the golden west of the sunset to meet him. For a +long time he saw the figure rising and falling in the saddle, the pony +moving in the even fox-trot of the cattle country. + +The man was Bob Hart. + +"Found 'em?" shouted Dave when he was close enough to be heard. + +"No, and we won't--not this side of Malapi. Those scalawags didn't make +camp last night. They kep' travelin'. If you ask me, they're movin' yet, +and they've got our broncs with 'em." + +This had already occurred to Dave as a possibility. "Any proof?" he asked +quietly. + +"A-plenty. I been ridin' on the point all day. Three-four times we cut +trail of five horses. Two of the five are bein' ridden. My Four-Bits hoss +has got a broken front hoof. So has one of the five." + +"Movin' fast, are they?" + +"You're damn whistlin'. They're hivin' off for parts unknown. Malapi +first off, looks like. They got friends there." + +"Steelman and his outfit will protect them while they hunt cover and make +a getaway. Miller mentioned Denver before the race--said he was figurin' +on goin' there. Maybe--" + +"He was probably lyin'. You can't tell. Point is, we've got to get busy. +My notion is we'd better make a bee-line for Malapi right away," proposed +Bob. + +"We'll travel all night. No use wastin' any more time." + +Dug Doble received their decision sourly. "It don't tickle me a heap to +be left short-handed because you two boys have got an excuse to get to +town quicker." + +Hart looked him straight in the eye. "Call it an excuse if you want to. +We're after a pair of shorthorn crooks that stole our horses." + +The foreman flushed angrily. "Don't come bellyachin' to me about yore +broomtails. I ain't got 'em." + +"We know who's got 'em," said Dave evenly. "What we want is a wage check +so as we can cash it at Malapi." + +"You don't get it," returned the big foreman bluntly. "We pay off when we +reach the end of the drive." + +"I notice you paid yore brother and Miller when we gave an order for it," +Hart retorted with heat. + +"A different proposition. They hadn't signed up for this drive like you +boys did. You'll get what's comin' to you when I pay off the others. +You'll not get it before." + +The two riders retired sulkily. They felt it was not fair, but on the +trail the foreman is an autocrat. From the other riders they borrowed a +few dollars and gave in exchange orders on their pay checks. + +Within an hour they were on the road. Fresh horses had been roped from +the remuda and were carrying them at an even Spanish jog-trot through the +night. The stars came out, clear and steady above a ghostly world at +sleep. The desert was a place of mystery, of vast space peopled by +strange and misty shapes. + +The plain stretched vaguely before them. Far away was the thin outline of +the range which enclosed the valley. The riders held their course by +means of that trained sixth sense of direction their occupation had +developed. + +They spoke little. Once a coyote howled dismally from the edge of the +mesa. For the most part there was no sound except the chuffing of the +horses' movements and the occasional ring of a hoof on the baked ground. + +The gray dawn, sifting into the sky, found them still traveling. The +mountains came closer, grew more definite. The desert flamed again, dry, +lifeless, torrid beneath a sky of turquoise. Dust eddies whirled in +inverted cones, wind devils playing in spirals across the sand. +Tablelands, mesas, wide plains, desolate lava stretches. Each in turn was +traversed by these lean, grim, bronzed riders. + +They reached the foothills and left behind the desert shimmering in the +dancing heat. In a deep gorge, where the hill creases gave them shade, +the punchers threw off the trail, unsaddled, hobbled their horses, and +stole a few hours' sleep. + +In the late afternoon they rode back to the trail through a draw, the +ponies wading fetlock deep in yellow, red, blue, and purple flowers. The +mountains across the valley looked in the dry heat as though made of +_papier-mâché_. Closer at hand the undulations of sand hills stretched +toward the pass for which they were making. + +A mule deer started out of a dry wash and fled into the sunset light. The +long, stratified faces of rock escarpments caught the glow of the sliding +sun and became battlemented towers of ancient story. + +The riders climbed steadily now, no longer engulfed in the ground swell +of land waves. They breathed an air like wine, strong, pure, bracing. +Presently their way led them into a hill pocket, which ran into a gorge +of piñons stretching toward Gunsight Pass. + +The stars were out again when they looked down from the other side of the +pass upon the lights of Malapi. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +SUPPER AT DELMONICO'S INTERRUPTED + + +The two D Bar Lazy R punchers ate supper at Delmonico's. The restaurant +was owned by Wong Chung. A Cantonese celestial did the cooking and +another waited on table. The price of a meal was twenty-five cents, +regardless of what one ordered. + +Hop Lee, the waiter, grinned at the frolicsome youths with the serenity +of a world-old wisdom. + +"Bleef steak, plork chop, lamb chop, hlam'neggs, clorn bleef hash, +Splanish stew," he chanted, reciting the bill of fare. + +"Yes," murmured Bob. + +The waiter said his piece again. + +"Listens good to me," agreed Dave. "Lead it to us." + +"You takee two--bleef steak and hlam'neggs, mebbe," suggested Hop +helpfully. + +"Tha's right. Two orders of everything on the me-an-you, Charlie." + +Hop did not argue with them. He never argued with a customer. If they +stormed at him he took refuge in a suddenly acquired lack of +understanding of English. If they called him Charlie or John or One Lung, +he accepted the name cheerfully and laid it to a racial mental deficiency +of the 'melicans. Now he decided to make a selection himself. + +"Vely well. Bleef steak and hlam'neggs." + +"Fried potatoes done brown, John." + +"Flied plotatoes. Tea or cloffee?" + +"Coffee," decided Dave for both of them. "Warm mine." + +"And custard pie," added Bob. "Made from this year's crop." + +"Aigs sunny side up," directed his friend. + +"Fry mine one on one side and one on the other," Hart continued +facetiously. + +"Vely well." Hop Lee's impassive face betrayed no perplexity as he +departed. In the course of a season he waited on hundreds of wild men +from the hills, drunk and sober. + +Dave helped himself to bread from a plate stacked high with thick slices. +He buttered it and began to eat. Hart did the same. At Delmonico's nobody +ever waited till the meal was served. Just about to attack a second +slice, Dave stopped to stare at his companion. Hart was looking past his +shoulder with alert intentness. Dave turned his head. Two men, leaving +the restaurant, were paying the cashier. + +"They just stepped outa that booth to the right," whispered Bob. + +The men were George Doble and a cowpuncher known as Shorty, a broad, +heavy-set little man who worked for Bradley Steelman, owner of the +Rocking Horse Ranch, what time he was not engaged on nefarious business +of his own. He was wearing a Chihuahua hat and leather chaps with silver +conchas. + +At this moment Hop Lee arrived with dinner. + +Dave sighed as he grinned at his friend. "I need that supper in my +system. I sure do, but I reckon I don't get it." + +"You do not, old lizard," agreed Hart. "I'll say Doble's the most +inconsiderate guy I ever did trail. Why couldn't he 'a' showed up a +half-hour later, dad gum his ornery hide?" + +They paid their bill and passed into the street. Immediately the sound of +a clear, high voice arrested their attention. It vibrated indignation and +dread. + +"What have you done with my father?" came sharply to them on the wings of +the soft night wind. + +A young woman was speaking. She was in a buggy and was talking to two men +on the sidewalk--the two men who had preceded the range-riders out of the +restaurant. + +"Why, Miss, we ain't done a thing to him--nothin' a-tall." The man Shorty +was speaking, and in a tone of honeyed conciliation. It was quite plain +he did not want a scene on the street. + +"That's a lie." The voice of the girl broke for an instant to a sob. "Do +you think I don't know you're Brad Steelman's handy man, that you do his +meanness for him when he snaps his fingers?" + +"You sure do click yore heels mighty loud, Miss." Dave caught in that +soft answer the purr of malice. He remembered now hearing from Buck +Byington that years ago Emerson Crawford had rounded up evidence to send +Shorty to the penitentiary for rebranding through a blanket. "I reckon +you come by it honest. Em always acted like he was God Almighty." + +"Where is he? What's become of him?" she cried. + +"Is yore paw missin'? I'm right sorry to hear that," the cowpuncher +countered with suave irony. He was eager to be gone. His glance followed +Doble, who was moving slowly down the street. + +The girl's face, white and shining in the moonlight, leaned out of the +buggy toward the retreating vaquero. "Don't you dare hurt my father! +Don't you dare!" she warned. The words choked in her tense throat. + +Shorty continued to back away. "You're excited, Miss. You go home an' +think it over reasonable. You'll be sorry you talked this away to me," he +said with unctuous virtue. Then, swiftly, he turned and went straddling +down the walk, his spurs jingling music as he moved. + +Quickly Dave gave directions to his friend. "Duck back into the +restaurant, Bob. Get a pocketful of dry rice from the Chink. Trail those +birds to their nest and find where they roost. Then stick around like a +burr. Scatter rice behind you, and I'll drift along later. First off, I +got to stay and talk with Miss Joyce. And, say, take along a rope. Might +need it." + +A moment later Hart was in the restaurant commandeering rice and Sanders +was lifting his dusty hat to the young woman in the buggy. + +"If I can he'p you any, Miss Joyce," he said. + +Beneath dark and delicate brows she frowned at him. "Who are you?" + +"Dave Sanders my name is. I reckon you never heard tell of me. I punch +cows for yore father." + +Her luminous, hazel-brown eyes steadied in his, read the honesty of his +simple, boyish heart. + +"You heard what I said to that man?" + +"Part of it." + +"Well, it's true. I know it is, but I can't prove it." + +Hart, moving swiftly down the street, waved a hand at his friend as he +passed. Without turning his attention from Joyce Crawford, Dave +acknowledged the signal. + +"How do you know it?" + +"Steelman's men have been watching our house. They were hanging around at +different times day before yesterday. This man Shorty was one." + +"Any special reason for the feud to break out right now?" + +"Father was going to prove up on a claim this week--the one that takes in +the Tularosa water-holes. You know the trouble they've had about it--how +they kept breaking our fences to water their sheep and cattle. Don't you +think maybe they're trying to keep him from proving up?" + +"Maybeso. When did you see him last?" + +Her lip trembled. "Night before last. After supper he started for the +Cattleman's Club, but he never got there." + +"Sure he wasn't called out to one of the ranches unexpected?" + +"I sent out to make sure. He hasn't been seen there." + +"Looks like some of Brad Steelman's smooth work," admitted Dave. "If he +could work yore father to sign a relinquishment--" + +Fire flickered in her eye. "He'd ought to know Dad better." + +"Tha's right too. But Brad needs them water-holes in his business bad. +Without 'em he loses the whole Round Top range. He might take a crack at +turning the screws on yore father." + +"You don't think--?" She stopped, to fight back a sob that filled her +soft throat. + +Dave was not sure what he thought, but he answered cheerfully and +instantly. "No, I don't reckon they've dry-gulched him or anything. +Emerson Crawford is one sure-enough husky citizen. He couldn't either be +shot or rough-housed in town without some one hearin' the noise. What's +more, it wouldn't be their play to injure him, but to force a +relinquishment." + +"That's true. You believe that, don't you?" Joyce cried eagerly. + +"Sure I do." And Dave discovered that his argument or his hopes had for +the moment convinced him. "Now the question is, what's to be done?" + +"Yes," she admitted, and the tremor of the lips told him that she +depended upon him to work out the problem. His heart swelled with glad +pride at the thought. + +"That man who jus' passed is my friend," he told her. "He's trailin' that +duck Shorty. Like as not we'll find out what's stirrin'." + +"I'll go with you," the girl said, vivid lips parted in anticipation. + +"No, you go home. This is a man's job. Soon as I find out anything I'll +let you know." + +"You'll come, no matter what time o' night it is," she pleaded. + +"Yes," he promised. + +Her firm little hand rested a moment in his brown palm. "I'm depending on +you," she murmured in a whisper lifted to a low wail by a stress of +emotion. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +BY WAY OF A WINDOW + + +The trail of rice led down Mission Street, turned at Junipero, crossed +into an alley, and trickled along a dusty road to the outskirts of the +frontier town. + +The responsibility Joyce had put upon him uplifted Dave. He had followed +the horse-race gamblers to town on a purely selfish undertaking. But he +had been caught in a cross-current of fate and was being swept into +dangerous waters for the sake of another. + +Doble and Miller were small fish in the swirl of this more desperate +venture. He knew Brad Steelman by sight and by reputation. The man's +coffee-brown, hatchet face, his restless, black eyes, the high, narrow +shoulders, the slope of nose and chin, combined somehow to give him the +look of a wily and predacious wolf. The boy had never met any one who so +impressed him with a sense of ruthless rapacity. He was audacious and +deadly in attack, but always he covered his tracks cunningly. Suspected +of many crimes, he had been proved guilty of none. It was a safe bet that +now he had a line of retreat worked out in case his plans went awry. + +A soft, low whistle stayed his feet. From behind a greasewood bush Bob +rose and beckoned him. Dave tiptoed to him. Both of them crouched behind +cover while they whispered. + +"The 'dobe house over to the right," said Bob. "I been up and tried to +look in, but they got curtains drawn. I would've like to 've seen how +many gents are present. Nothin' doin'. It's a strictly private party." + +Dave told him what he had learned from the daughter of Emerson Crawford. + +"Might make a gather of boys and raid the joint," suggested Hart. + +"Bad medicine, Bob. Our work's got to be smoother than that. How do we +know they got the old man a prisoner there? What excuse we got for +attacktin' a peaceable house? A friend of mine's brother onct got shot +up makin' a similar mistake. Maybe Crawford's there. Maybe he ain't. Say +he is. All right. There's some gun-play back and forth like as not. A +b'ilin' of men pour outa the place. We go in and find the old man with a +bullet right spang through his forehead. Well, ain't that too bad! In the +rookus his own punchers must 'a' gunned him accidental. How would that +story listen in court?" + +"It wouldn't listen good to me. Howcome Crawford to be a prisoner there, +I'd want to know." + +"Sure you would, and Steelman would have witnesses a-plenty to swear the +old man had just drapped in to see if they couldn't talk things over and +make a settlement of their troubles." + +"All right. What's yore programme, then?" asked Bob. + +"Darned if I know. Say we scout the ground over first." + +They made a wide circuit and approached the house from the rear, worming +their way through the Indian grass toward the back door. Dave crept +forward and tried the door. It was locked. The window was latched and the +blind lowered. He drew back and rejoined his companion. + +"No chance there," he whispered. + +"How about the roof?" asked Hart. + +It was an eight-roomed house. From the roof two dormers jutted. No light +issued from either of them. + +Dave's eyes lit. + +"What's the matter with takin' a whirl at it?" his partner continued. +"You're tophand with a rope." + +"Suits me fine." + +The young puncher arranged the coils carefully and whirled the loop +around his head to get the feel of the throw. It would not do to miss the +first cast and let the rope fall dragging down the roof. Some one might +hear and come out to investigate. + +The rope snaked forward and up, settled gracefully over the chimney, and +tightened round it close to the shingles. + +"Good enough. Now me for the climb," murmured Hart. + +"Don't pull yore picket-pin, Bob. Me first." + +"All right. We ain't no time to debate. Shag up, old scout." + +Dave slipped off his high-heeled boots and went up hand over hand, using +his feet against the rough adobe walls to help in the ascent. When he +came to the eaves he threw a leg up and clambered to the roof. In another +moment he was huddled against the chimney waiting for his companion. + +As soon as Hart had joined him he pulled up the rope and wound it round +the chimney. + +"You stay here while I see what's doin'," Dave proposed. + +"I never did see such a fellow for hoggin' all the fun," objected Bob. +"Ain't you goin' to leave me trail along?" + +"Got to play a lone hand till we find out where we're at, Bob. Doubles +the chances of being bumped into if we both go." + +"Then you roost on the roof and lemme look the range over for the old +man." + +"Didn't Miss Joyce tell me to find her paw? What's eatin' you, pard?" + +"You pore plugged nickel!" derided Hart. "Think she picked you special +for this job, do you?" + +"Be reasonable, Bob," pleaded Dave. + +His friend gave way. "Cut yore stick, then. Holler for me when I'm +wanted." + +Dave moved down the roof to the nearest dormer. The house, he judged, had +originally belonged to a well-to-do Mexican family and had later been +rebuilt upon American ideas. The thick adobe walls had come down from the +earlier owners, but the roof had been put on as a substitute for the flat +one of its first incarnation. + +The range-rider was wearing plain shiny leather chaps with a gun in an +open holster tied at the bottom to facilitate quick action. He drew out +the revolver, tested it noiselessly, and restored it carefully to its +place. If he needed the six-shooter at all, he would need it badly and +suddenly. + +Gingerly he tested the window of the dormer, working at it from the side +so that his body would not be visible to anybody who happened to be +watching from within. Apparently it was latched. He crept across the roof +to the other dormer. + +It was a casement window, and at the touch of the hand it gave way. +The heart of the cowpuncher beat fast with excitement. In the shadowy +darkness of that room death might be lurking, its hand already +outstretched toward him. He peered in, accustoming his eyes to the +blackness. A prickling of the skin ran over him. The tiny cold feet of +mice pattered up and down his spine. For he knew that, though he could +not yet make out the objects inside the room, his face must be like a +framed portrait to anybody there. + +He made out presently that it was a bedroom with sloping ceiling. A bunk +with blankets thrown back just as the sleeper had left them filled one +side of the chamber. There were two chairs, a washstand, a six-inch by +ten looking-glass, and a chromo or two on the wall. A sawed-off shotgun +was standing in a corner. Here and there were scattered soiled clothing +and stained boots. The door was ajar, but nobody was in the room. + +Dave eased himself over the sill and waited for a moment while he +listened, the revolver in his hand. It seemed to him that he could hear +a faint murmur of voices, but he was not sure. He moved across the bare +plank floor, slid through the door, and again stopped to take stock of +his surroundings. + +He was at the head of a stairway which ran down to the first floor and +lost itself in the darkness of the hall. Leaning over the banister, he +listened intently for any sign of life below. He was sure now that he +heard the sound of low voices behind a closed door. + +The cowpuncher hesitated. Should he stop to explore the upper story? Or +should he go down at once and try to find out what those voices might +tell him? It might be that time was of the essence of his contract to +discover what had become of Emerson Crawford. He decided to look for his +information on the first floor. + +Never before had Dave noticed that stairs creaked and groaned so loudly +beneath the pressure of a soft footstep. They seemed to shout his +approach, though he took every step with elaborate precautions. A door +slammed somewhere, and his heart jumped at the sound of it. He did not +hide the truth from himself. If Steelman or his men found him here +looking for Crawford he would never leave the house alive. His foot left +the last tread and found the uncarpeted floor. He crept, hand +outstretched, toward the door behind which he heard men talking. As he +moved forward his stomach muscles tightened. At any moment some one might +come out of the room and walk into him. + +He put his eye to the keyhole, and through it saw a narrow segment of the +room. Ad Miller was sitting a-straddle a chair, his elbows on the back. +Another man, one not visible to the cowpuncher, was announcing a decision +and giving an order. + +"Hook up the horses, Shorty. He's got his neck bowed and he won't sign. +All right. I'll get the durn fool up in the hills and show him whether he +will or won't." + +"I could 'a' told you he had sand in his craw." Shorty was speaking. He +too was beyond the range of Dave's vision. "Em Crawford won't sign unless +he's a mind to." + +"Take my advice, Brad. Collect the kid, an' you'll sure have Em hogtied. +He sets the world an' all by her. Y'betcha he'll talk turkey then," +predicted Miller. + +"Are we fightin' kids?" the squat puncher wanted to know. + +"Did I ask your advice, Shorty?" inquired Steelman acidly. + +The range-rider grumbled an indistinct answer. Dave did not make out the +words, and his interest in the conversation abruptly ceased. + +For from upstairs there came the sudden sounds of trampling feet, of +bodies thrashing to and fro in conflict. A revolver shot barked its +sinister menace. + +Dave rose to go. At the same time the door in front of him was jerked +open. He pushed his forty-five into Miller's fat ribs. + +"What's yore hurry? Stick up yore hands--stick 'em up!" + +The boy was backing along the passage as he spoke. He reached the newel +post in that second while Miller was being flung aside by an eruption of +men from the room. Like a frightened rabbit Dave leaped for the stairs, +taking them three at a time. Halfway up he collided with a man flying +down. They came together with the heavy impact of fast-moving bodies. The +two collapsed and rolled down, one over the other. + +Sanders rose like a rubber ball. The other man lay still. He had been put +out cold. Dave's head had struck him in the solar plexus and knocked the +breath out of him. The young cowpuncher found himself the active center +of a cyclone. His own revolver was gone. He grappled with a man, seizing +him by the wrist to prevent the use of a long-barreled Colt's. The +trigger fell, a bullet flying through the ceiling. + +Other men pressed about him, trying to reach him with their fists and to +strike him with their weapons. Their high heels crushed cruelly the flesh +of his stockinged feet. The darkness befriended Dave. In the massed mêlée +they dared not shoot for fear of hitting the wrong mark. Nor could they +always be sure which shifting figure was the enemy. + +Dave clung close to the man he had seized, using him as a shield against +the others. The pack swayed down the hall into the wedge of light thrown +by the lamp in the room. + +Across the head of the man next him Shorty reached and raised his arm. +Dave saw the blue barrel of the revolver sweeping down, but could not +free a hand to protect himself. A jagged pain shot through his head. +The power went out of his legs. He sagged at the hinges of his knees. +He stumbled and went down. Heavy boots kicked at him where he lay. It +seemed to him that bolts of lightning were zigzagging through him. + +The pain ceased and he floated away into a sea of space. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BOB HART TAKES A HAND + + +Bob Hart waited till his friend had disappeared into the house before he +moved. + +"Thought he'd run it over me, so I'd roost here on the roof, did he? +Well, I'm after the ol' horn-toad full jump," the puncher murmured, +a gay grin on his good-looking face. + +He, too, examined his gun before he followed Dave through the dormer +window and passed into the frowsy bedchamber. None of the details of it +escaped his cool, keen gaze, least of all the sawed-off shotgun in the +corner. + +"That scatter gun might come handy. Reckon I'll move it so's I'll know +just where it's at when I need it," he said to himself, and carried the +gun to the bed, where he covered it with a quilt. + +At the top of the stairs Bob also hesitated before passing down. Why not +be sure of his line of communications with the roof before going too far? +He did not want to be in such a hurry that his retreat would be cut off. + +With as little noise as possible Bob explored the upper story. The first +room in which he found himself was empty of all furniture except a pair +of broken-backed chairs. One casual glance was enough here. + +He was about to try a second door when some one spoke. He recognized the +voice. It belonged to the man who wrote his pay checks, and it came from +an adjoining room. + +"Always knew you was crooked as a dog's hind laigs Doble. Never liked you +a lick in the road. I'll say this. Some day I'll certainly hang yore hide +up to dry for yore treachery." + +"No use to get on the peck, Em. It don't do you no good to make me sore. +Maybe you'll need a friend before you're shet of Brad." + +"It relieves my mind some to tell you what a yellow coyote you are," +explained the cattleman. "You got about as much sand as a brush rabbit +and I'd trust you as far as I would a rattler, you damned sidewinder." + +Bob tried the door. The knob turned in his hand and the door slowly +opened inward. + +The rattle of the latch brought George Doble's sly, shifty eye round. +He was expecting to see one of his friends from below. A stare of blank +astonishment gave way to a leaping flicker of fear. The crook jumped to +his feet, tugging at his gun. Before he could fire, the range-rider had +closed with him. + +The plunging attack drove Doble back against the table, a flimsy, +round-topped affair which gave way beneath this assault upon it. The two +men went down in the wreck. Doble squirmed away like a cat, but before he +could turn to use his revolver Bob was on him again. The puncher caught +his right arm, in time and in no more than time. The deflected bullet +pinged through a looking-glass on a dresser near the foot of the bed. + +"Go to it, son! Grab the gun and bust his haid wide open!" an excited +voice encouraged Hart. + +But Doble clung to his weapon as a lost cow does to a 'dobe water-hole in +the desert. Bob got a grip on his arm and twisted till he screamed with +pain. He did a head spin and escaped. One hundred and sixty pounds of +steel-muscled cowpuncher landed on his midriff and the six-shooter went +clattering away to a far corner of the room. + +Bob dived for the revolver, Doble for the door. A moment, and Hart had +the gun. But whereas there had been three in the room there were now but +two. + +A voice from the bed spoke in curt command. "Cut me loose." Bob had heard +that voice on more than one round-up. It was that of Emerson Crawford. + +The range-rider's sharp knife cut the ropes that tied the hands and feet +of his employer. He worked in the dark and it took time. + +"Who are you? Howcome you here?" demanded the cattleman. + +"I'm Bob Hart. It's quite a story. Miss Joyce sent me and Dave Sanders," +answered the young man, still busy with the ropes. + +From below came the sound of a shot, the shuffling of many feet. + +"Must be him downstairs." + +"I reckon. They's a muley gun in the hall." + +Crawford stretched his cramped muscles, flexing and reflexing his arms +and legs. "Get it, son. We'll drift down and sit in." + +When Bob returned he found the big cattleman examining Doble's revolver. +He broke the shotgun to make sure it was loaded. + +Then, "We'll travel," he said coolly. + +The battle sounds below had died away. From the landing they looked down +into the hall and saw a bar of light that came through a partly open +door. Voices were lifted in excitement. + +"One of Em Crawford's riders," some one was saying. "A whole passel of +'em must be round the place." + +Came the thud of a boot on something soft. "Put the damn spy outa +business, I say," broke in another angrily. + +Hart's gorge rose. "Tha's Miller," he whispered to his chief. "He's +kickin' Dave now he's down 'cause Dave whaled him good." + +Softly the two men padded down the stair treads and moved along the +passage. + +"Who's that?" demanded Shorty, thrusting his head into the hall. "Stay +right there or I'll shoot." + +"Oh, no, you won't," answered the cattleman evenly. "I'm comin' into that +room to have a settlement. There'll be no shootin'--unless I do it." + +His step did not falter. He moved forward, brushed Shorty aside, and +strode into the midst of his enemies. + +Dave lay on the floor. His hair was clotted with blood and a thin stream +of it dripped from his head. The men grouped round his body had their +eyes focused on the man who had just pushed his way in. All of them were +armed, but not one of them made a move to attack. + +For there is something about a strong man unafraid more potent than a +company of troopers. Such a man was Emerson Crawford now. His life might +be hanging in the balance of his enemies' fears, but he gave no sign +of uncertainty. His steady gray eyes swept the circle, rested on each +worried face, and fastened on Brad Steelman. + +The two had been enemies for years, rivals for control of the range and +for leadership in the community. Before that, as young men, they had been +candidates for the hand of the girl that the better one had won. The +sheepman was shrewd and cunning, but he had no such force of character as +Crawford. At the bottom of his heart, though he seethed with hatred, he +quailed before that level gaze. Did his foe have the house surrounded +with his range-riders? Did he mean to make him pay with his life for the +thing he had done? + +Steelman laughed uneasily. An option lay before him. He could fight or he +could throw up the hand he had dealt himself from a stacked deck. If he +let his enemy walk away scot free, some day he would probably have to pay +Crawford with interest. His choice was a characteristic one. + +"Well, I reckon you've kinda upset my plans, Em. 'Course I was a-coddin' +you. I didn't aim to hurt you none, though I'd 'a' liked to have talked +you outa the water-holes." + +The big cattleman ignored this absolutely. "Have a team hitched right +away. Shorty will 'tend to that. Bob, tie up yore friend's haid with a +handkerchief." + +Without an instant's hesitation Hart thrust his revolver back into its +holster. He was willing to trust Crawford to dominate this group of +lawless foes, every one of whom held some deep grudge against him. One +he had sent to the penitentiary. Another he had actually kicked out of +his employ. A third was in his debt for many injuries received. Almost +any of them would have shot him in the back on a dark night, but none +had the cold nerve to meet him in the open. For even in a land which +bred men there were few to match Emerson Crawford. + +Shorty looked at Steelman. "I'm waitin', Brad," he said. + +The sheepman nodded sullenly. "You done heard your orders, Shorty." + +The ex-convict reached for his steeple hat, thrust his revolver back into +its holster, and went jingling from the room. He looked insolently at +Crawford as he passed. + +"Different here. If it was my say-so I'd go through." + +Hart administered first aid to his friend. "I'm servin' notice, Miller, +that some day I'll bust you wide and handsome for this," he said, looking +straight at the fat gambler. "You have give Dave a raw deal, and you'll +not get away with it." + +"I pack a gun. Come a-shootin' when you're ready," retorted Miller. + +"Tha's liable to be right soon, you damn horsethief. We've rid 'most a +hundred miles to have a li'l' talk with you and yore pardner there." + +"Shoutin' about that race yet, are you? If I wasn't a better loser than +you--" + +"Don't bluff, Miller. You know why we trailed you." + +Doble edged into the talk. He was still short of wind, but to his thick +wits a denial seemed necessary. "We ain't got yore broncs." + +"Who mentioned our broncs?" Hart demanded, swiftly. + +"Called Ad a horsethief, didn't you?" + +"So he is. You, too. You've got our ponies. Not in yore vest pockets, but +hid out in the brush somewheres. I'm servin' notice right now that Dave +and me have come to collect." + +Dave opened his eyes upon a world which danced hazily before him. He had +a splitting headache. + +"Wha's the matter?" he asked. + +"You had a run-in with a bunch of sheep wranglers," Bob told him. +"They're going to be plumb sorry they got gay." + +Presently Shorty returned. "That team's hooked up," he told the world at +large. + +"You'll drive us, Steelman," announced Crawford. + +"Me!" screamed the leader of the other faction. "You got the most nerve +I ever did see." + +"Sure. Drive him home, Brad," advised Shorty with bitter sarcasm. "Black +his boots. Wait on him good. Step lively when yore new boss whistles." He +cackled with splenetic laughter. + +"I dunno as I need to drive you home," Steelman said slowly, feeling his +way to a decision. "You know the way better'n I do." + +The eyes of the two leaders met. + +"You'll drive," the cattleman repeated steadily. + +The weak spot in Steelman's leadership was that he was personally not +game. Crawford had a pungent personality. He was dynamic, strong, master +of himself in any emergency. The sheepman's will melted before his +insistence. He dared not face a showdown. + +"Oh, well, what's it matter? We can talk things over on the way. Me, I'm +not lookin' for trouble none," he said, his small black eyes moving +restlessly to watch the effect of this on his men. + +Bob helped his partner out of the house and into the surrey. The +cattleman took the seat beside Steelman, across his knees the sawed-off +shotgun. He had brought his enemy along for two reasons. One was to +weaken his prestige with his own men. The other was to prevent them +from shooting at the rig as they drove away. + +Steelman drove in silence. His heart was filled with surging hatred. +During that ride was born a determination to have nothing less than the +life of his enemy when the time should be ripe. + +At the door of his house Crawford dismissed him contemptuously. "Get +out." + +The man with the reins spoke softly, venomously, from a dry throat. "One +o' these days you'll crawl on your hands and knees to me for this." + +He whipped up the team and rattled away furiously into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE D BAR LAZY R BOYS MEET AN ANGEL + + +Joyce came flying to her father's arms. The white lace of a nightgown +showed beneath the dressing-robe she had hurriedly donned. A plait of +dark hair hung across her shoulder far below the waist. She threw herself +at Crawford with a moaning little sob. + +"Oh Dad ... Dad ... Dad!" she cried, and her slender arms went round his +neck. + +"'T's all right, sweetheart. Yore old dad's not even powder-burnt. You +been worryin' a heap, I reckon." His voice was full of rough tenderness. + +She began to cry. + +He patted her shoulder and caressed her dark head drawing it close to his +shoulder. "Now--now--now sweetheart, don't you cry. It's all right, li'l' +honey bug." + +"You're not ... hurt," she begged through her tears. + +"Not none. Never was huskier. But I got a boy out here that's beat up +some. Come in, Dave--and you, Bob. They're good boys, Joy. I want you to +meet 'em both." + +The girl had thought her father alone. She flung one startled glance into +the night, clutched the dressing-gown closer round her throat, and fled +her barefoot way into the darkness of the house. To the boys, hanging +back awkwardly at the gate, the slim child-woman was a vision wonderful. +Their starved eyes found in her white loveliness a glimpse of heaven. + +Her father laughed. "Joy ain't dressed for callers. Come in, boys." + +He lit a lamp and drew Dave to a lounge. "Lemme look at yore haid, son. +Bob, you hot-foot it for Doc Green." + +"It's nothin' a-tall to make a fuss about," Dave apologized. "Only a love +tap, compliments of Shorty, and some kicks in the slats, kindness of Mr. +Miller." + +In spite of his debonair manner Dave still had a bad headache and was so +sore around the body that he could scarcely move without groaning. He +kept his teeth clamped on the pain because he had been brought up in +the outdoor code of the West which demands of a man that he grin and +stand the gaff. + +While the doctor was attending to his injuries, Dave caught sight once +or twice of Joyce at the door, clad now in a summer frock of white with a +blue sash. She was busy supplying, in a brisk, competent way, the demands +of the doctor for hot and cold water and clean linen. + +Meanwhile Crawford told his story. "I was right close to the club when +Doble met me. He pulled a story of how his brother Dug had had trouble +with Steelman and got shot up. I swallowed it hook, bait, and sinker. +Soon as I got into the house they swarmed over me like bees. I didn't +even get my six-gun out. Brad wanted me to sign a relinquishment. I told +him where he could head in at." + +"What would have happened if the boys hadn't dropped along?" asked Dr. +Green as he repacked his medicine case. + +The cattleman looked at him, and his eyes were hard and bleak. "Why, Doc, +yore guess is as good as mine." he said. + +"Mine is, you'd have been among the missing, Em. Well, I'm leaving a +sleeping-powder for the patient in case he needs it in an hour or two. +In the morning I'll drop round again," the doctor said. + +He did, and found Dave much improved. The clean outdoors of the +rough-riding West builds blood that is red. A city man might have kept +his bed a week, but Dave was up and ready to say good-bye within +forty-eight hours. He was still a bit under par, a trifle washed-out, +but he wanted to take the road in pursuit of Miller and Doble, who had +again decamped in a hurry with the two horses they had stolen. + +"They had the broncs hid up Frio Cañon way, I reckon," explained Hart. +"But they didn't take no chances. When they left that 'dobe house they +lit a-runnin' and clumb for the high hills on the jump. And they didn't +leave no address neither. We'll be followin' a cold trail. We're not +liable to find them after they hole up in some mountain pocket." + +"Might. Never can tell. Le's take a whirl at it anyhow," urged Dave. + +"Hate to give up yore paint hoss, don't you?" said Bob with his friendly +grin. "Ain't blamin' you none whatever, I'd sleep on those fellows' trail +if Chiquito was mine. What say we outfit in the mornin' and pull our +freights? Maybeso we'll meet up with the thieves at that. Yo no se (I +don't know)." + +When Joyce was in the room where Dave lay on the lounge, the young man +never looked at her, but he saw nobody else. Brought up in a saddle on +the range, he had never before met a girl like her. It was not only that +she was beautiful and fragrant as apple-blossoms, a mystery of maidenhood +whose presence awed his simple soul. It was not only that she seemed so +delicately precious, a princess of the blood royal set apart by reason of +her buoyant grace, the soft rustle of her skirts, the fine texture of the +satiny skin. What took him by the throat was her goodness. She was +enshrined in his heart as a young saint. He would have thought it +sacrilege to think of her as a wide-awake young woman subject to all the +vanities of her sex. And he could have cited evidence. The sweetness of +her affection for rough Em Crawford, the dear, maternal tenderness with +which she ruled her three-year-old brother Keith, motherless since the +week of his birth, the kindness of the luminous brown eyes to the uncouth +stranger thrown upon her hospitality: Dave treasured them all as signs of +angelic grace, and they played upon his heartstrings disturbingly. + +Joyce brought Keith in to say good-bye to Dave and his friend before +they left. The little fellow ran across the room to his new pal, who +had busied himself weaving horsehair playthings for the youngster. + +"You turn back and make me a bwidle, Dave," he cried. + +"I'll sure come or else send you one," the cowpuncher promised, rising to +meet Joyce. + +She carried her slender figure across the room with perfect ease and +rhythm, head beautifully poised, young seventeen as self-possessed as +thirty. As much could not be said for her guests. They were all legs and +gangling arms, red ears and dusty boots. + +"Yes, we all want you to come back," she said with a charming smile. "I +think you saved Father's life. We can't tell you how much we owe you. Can +we, Keith?" + +"Nope. When will you send the bwidle?" he demanded. + +"Soon," the restored patient said to the boy, and to her: "That wasn't +nothin' a-tall. From where I come from we always been use to standin' by +our boss." + +He shifted awkwardly to the other foot, flushing to the hair while he +buried her soft little hand in his big freckled one. The girl showed no +shyness. Seventeen is sometimes so much older than twenty. + +"Tha's what us D Bar Lazy R boys are ridin' with yore paw's outfit for, +Miss--to be handy when he needs us," Bob added in his turn. "We're sure +tickled we got a chanct to go to Brad Steelman's party. I'm ce'tainly +glad to 'a' met you, Miss Joyce." He ducked his head and scraped back a +foot in what was meant to be a bow. + +Emerson Crawford sauntered in, big and bluff and easy-going. "Hittin' the +trail, boys? Good enough. Hope you find the thieves. If you do, play yore +cards close. They're treacherous devils. Don't take no chances with 'em. +I left an order at the store for you to draw on me for another pair of +boots in place of those you lost in the brush, Dave. Get a good pair, +son. They're on me. Well, so long. Luck, boys. I'll look for you-all back +with the D Bar Lazy R when you've finished this job." + +The punchers rode away without looking back, but many times in the days +that followed their hearts turned to that roof which had given the word +home a new meaning to them both. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GUNSIGHT PASS + + +The pursuit took the riders across a wide, undulating plain above which +danced the dry heat of the desert. Lizards sunned themselves on flat +rocks. A rattlesnake slid toward the cover of a prickly pear. The +bleached bones of a cow shone white beside the trail. + +The throats of the cowpunchers filled with alkali dust and their eyes +grew red and sore from it. Magnificent mirages unfolded themselves: lakes +cool and limpid, stretching to the horizon, with inviting forests in the +distance; an oasis of lush green fields that covered miles; mesquite +distorted to the size of giant trees and cattle transformed into +dinosaurs. The great gray desert took on freakish shapes of erosion. +Always, hour after hour beneath a copper sky, they rode in palpitating +heat through sand drifts, among the salt bushes and the creosote, into +cowbacked hills beyond which the stark mountains rose. + +Out of the fiery furnace of the plain they came in late afternoon to +the uplands, plunging into a land of deep gorges and great chasms. Here +manzanita grew and liveoaks flourished. They sent a whitetail buck +crashing through the brush into a cañon. + +When night fell they built a fire of niggerheads and after they had eaten +found its glow grateful. For they were well up in the hills now and the +night air was sharp. + +In the sandy desert they had followed easily the trail of the thieves, +but as they had got into the hills the tracks had become fainter and +fewer. The young men discussed this while they lay in their blankets in +a water-gutted gulch not too near the fire they had built. + +"Like huntin' for a needle in a haystack," said Bob. "Their trail's done +petered out. They might be in any one of a hundred pockets right close, +or they may have bore 'way off to the right. All they got to do is hole +up and not build any fires." + +"Fat chance we got," admitted Dave. "Unless they build a fire like we +done. Say, I'd a heap rather be sleepin' here than by that niggerhead +blaze to-night. They might creep up and try to gun us." + +Before they had been in the saddle an hour next day the trail of the +thieves was lost. The pursuers spent till sunset trying to pick it up +again. The third day was wasted in aimless drifting among the defiles +of the mountains. + +"No use, Bob," said his friend while they were cooking supper. "They've +made their getaway. Might as well drift back to Malapi, don't you +reckon?" + +"Looks like. We're only wastin' our time here." + +Long before day broke they started. + +The cañons below were filled with mist as they rode down out of the +mountains toward the crystal dawn that already flooded the plain. The +court-house clock at Malapi said the time was midnight when the +dust-covered men and horses drew into the town. + +The tired men slept till noon. At the Delmonico Restaurant they found +Buck Byington and Steve Russell. The trail herd had been driven in an +hour before. + +"How's old Alkali?" asked Dave of his friend Buck, thumping him on the +back. + +"Jes' tolable," answered the old-timer equably, making great play with +knife and fork. "A man or a hawss don't either one amount to much after +they onct been stove up. Since that bronc piled me at Willow Creek I +been mighty stiff, you might say." + +"Dug's payin' off to-day, boys," Russell told them. "You'll find him +round to the Boston Emporium." + +The foreman settled first with Hart, after which he, turned to the page +in his pocket notebook that held the account of Sanders. + +"You've drew one month's pay. That leaves you three months, less the week +you've fooled away after the pinto." + +"C'rect," admitted Dave. + +"I'll dock you seven and a half for that. Three times thirty's ninety. +Take seven and a half from that leaves eighty-two fifty." + +"Hold on!" objected Dave. "My pay's thirty-five a month." + +"First I knew of it," said the foreman, eyes bleak and harsh. "Thirty's +what you're gettin'." + +"I came in as top hand at thirty-five." + +"You did not," denied Doble flatly. + +The young man flushed. "You can't run that on me, Dug. I'll not stand for +it." + +"Eighty-two fifty is what you get," answered the other dogmatically. "You +can take it or go to hell." + +He began to sort out a number of small checks with which to pay the +puncher. At that time the currency of the country consisted largely of +cattlemen's checks which passed from hand to hand till they were grimy +with dirt. Often these were not cashed for months later. + +"We'll see what the old man says about that," retorted Dave hotly. It was +in his mind to say that he did not intend to be robbed by both the Doble +brothers, but he wisely repressed the impulse. Dug would as soon fight as +eat, and the young rider knew he would not have a chance in the world +against him. + +"All right," sneered the foreman. "Run with yore tale of grief to +Crawford. Tell him I been pickin' on you. I hear you've got to be quite +a pet of his." + +This brought Dave up with a short turn. He could not take advantage of +the service he had done the owner of the D Bar Lazy R to ask him to +interfere in his behalf with the foreman. Doble might be cynically +defrauding him of part of what was due him in wages. Dave would have to +fight that out with him for himself. The worst of it was that he had no +redress. Unless he appealed to the cattleman he would have to accept +what the foreman offered. + +Moreover, his pride was touched. He was young enough to be sensitive on +the subject of his ability to look out for himself. + +"I'm no pet of anybody," he flung out. "Gimme that money. It ain't a +square deal, but I reckon I can stand it." + +"I reckon you'll have to. It's neck meat or nothin'," grunted the +foreman. + +Doble counted him out eighty dollars in cattlemen's checks and paid him +two-fifty in cash. While Dave signed a receipt the hook-nosed foreman, +broad shoulders thrown back and thumbs hitched in the arm-holes of his +vest, sat at ease in a tilted chair and grinned maliciously at his +victim. He was "puttin' somethin' over on him," and he wanted Dave to +know it. Dug had no affection for his half-brother, but he resented +the fact that Sanders publicly and openly despised him as a crook. He +took it as a personal reflection on himself. + +Still smouldering with anger at this high-handed proceeding, Dave went +down to the Longhorn Corral and saddled his horse. He had promised +Byington to help water the herd. + +This done, he rode back to town, hitched the horse back of a barber shop, +and went in for a shave. Presently he was stretched in a chair, his boots +thrown across the foot rest in front of him. + +The barber lathered his face and murmured gossip in his ear. "George +Doble and Miller claim they're goin' to Denver to run some skin game at +a street fair. They're sure slick guys." + +Dave offered no comment. + +"You notice they didn't steal any of Em Crawford's stock. No, sirree! +They knew better. Hopped away with broncs belongin' to you boys because +they knew it'd be safe." + +"Picked easy marks, did they?" asked the puncher sardonically. + +The man with the razor tilted the chin of his customer and began to +scrape. "Well, o'course you're only boys. They took advantage of that +and done you a meanness." + +Dug Doble came into the shop, very grim about the mouth. He stopped to +look down sarcastically at the new boots Sanders was wearing. + +"I see you've bought you a new pair of boots," he said in a heavy, +domineering voice. + +Dave waited without answering, his eyes meeting steadily those of the +foreman. + +The big fellow laid a paper on the breast of the cowpuncher. "Here's a +bill for a pair of boots you charged to the old man's account--eighteen +dollars. I got it just now at the store. You'll dig up." + +It was the custom for riders who came to town to have the supplies they +needed charged to their employers against wages due them. Doble took it +for granted that Sanders had done this, which was contrary to the orders +he had given his outfit. He did not know the young man had lost his boots +while rescuing Crawford and had been authorized by him to get another +pair in place of them. + +Nor did Dave intend to tell him. Here was a chance to even the score +against the foreman. Already he had a plan simmering in his mind that +would take him out of this part of the country for a time. He could no +longer work for Doble without friction, and he had business of his own to +attend to. The way to solve the immediate difficulty flashed through his +brain instantly, every detail clear. + +It was scarcely a moment before he drawled an answer. "I'll 'tend to it +soon as I'm out of the chair." + +"I gave orders for none of you fellows to charge goods to the old man," +said Doble harshly. + +"Did you?" Dave's voice was light and careless. + +"You can go hunt a job somewheres else. You're through with me." + +"I'll hate to part with you." + +"Don't get heavy, young fellow." + +"No," answered Dave with mock meekness. + +Doble sat down in a chair to wait. He had no intention of leaving until +Dave had settled. + +After the barber had finished with him the puncher stepped across to a +looking-glass and adjusted carefully the silk handkerchief worn knotted +loosely round the throat. + +"Get a move on you!" urged the foreman. His patience, of which he never +had a large supply to draw from, was nearly exhausted. "I'm not goin' to +spend all day on this." + +"I'm ready." + +Dave followed Doble out of the shop. Apparently he did not hear the +gentle reminder of the barber, who was forced to come to the door and +repeat his question. + +"Want that shave charged?" + +"Oh! Clean forgot." Sanders turned back, feeling in his pocket for +change. + +He pushed past the barber into the shop, slapped a quarter down on the +cigar-case, and ran out through the back door. A moment later he pulled +the slip-knot of his bridle from the hitching-bar, swung to the saddle +and spurred his horse to a gallop. In a cloud of dust he swept round the +building to the road and waved a hand derisively toward Doble. + +"See you later!" he shouted. + +The foreman wasted no breath in futile rage. He strode to the nearest +hitching-post and flung himself astride leather. The horse's hoofs +pounded down the road in pursuit. + +Sanders was riding the same bronco he had used to follow the +horsethieves. It had been under a saddle most of the time for a week and +was far from fresh. Before he had gone a mile he knew that the foreman +would catch up with him. + +He was riding for Gunsight Pass. It was necessary to get there before +Doble reached him. Otherwise he would have to surrender or fight, and +neither of these fitted in with his plans. + +Once he had heard Emerson Crawford give a piece of advice to a hotheaded +and unwise puncher. "Never call for a gun-play on a bluff, son. There's +no easier way to commit suicide than to pull a six-shooter you ain't +willin' to use." Dug Doble was what Byington called "bull-haided." He had +forced a situation which could not be met without a showdown. This meant +that the young range-rider would either have to take a thrashing or draw +his forty-five and use it. Neither of these alternatives seemed worth +while in view of the small stakes at issue. Because he was not ready to +kill or be killed, Dave was flying for the hills. + +The fugitive had to use his quirt to get there in time. The steepness of +the road made heavy going. As he neared the summit the grade grew worse. +The bronco labored heavily in its stride as its feet reached for the +road ahead. + +But here Dave had the advantage. Doble was a much heavier man than he, +and his mount took the shoulder of the ridge slower. By the time the +foreman showed in silhouette against the skyline at the entrance to the +pass the younger man had disappeared. + +The D Bar Lazy R foreman found out at once what had become of him. A +crisp voice gave clear directions. + +"That'll be far enough. Stop right where you're at or you'll notice +trouble pop. And don't reach for yore gun unless you want to hear the +band begin to play a funeral piece." + +The words came, it seemed to Doble, out of the air. He looked up. Two +great boulders lay edge to edge beside the path. Through a narrow rift +the blue nose of a forty-five protruded. Back of it glittered a pair +of steady, steely eyes. + +The foreman did not at all like the look of things. Sanders was a good +shot. From where he lay, almost entirely protected, all he had to do was +to pick his opponent off at his leisure. If his hand were forced he would +do it. And the law would let him go scot free, since Doble was a fighting +man and had been seen to start in pursuit of the boy. + +"Come outa there and shell out that eighteen dollars," demanded Doble. + +"Nothin' doin', Dug." + +"Don't run on the rope with me, young fellow. You'll sure be huntin' +trouble." + +"What's the use o' beefin'? I've got the deadwood on you. Better hit the +dust back to town and explain to the boys how yore bronc went lame," +advised Dave. + +"Come down and I'll wallop the tar outa you." + +"Much obliged. I'm right comfortable here." + +"I've a mind to come up and dig you out." + +"Please yoreself, Dug. We'll find out then which one of us goes to hell." + +The foreman cursed, fluently, expertly, passionately. Not in a long time +had he had the turn called on him so adroitly. He promised Dave sudden +death in various forms whenever he could lay hands upon him. + +"You're sure doin' yoreself proud, Dug," the young man told him evenly. +"I'll write the boys how you spilled language so thorough." + +"If I could only lay my hands on you!" the raw-boned cattleman stormed. + +"I'll bet you'd massacree me proper," admitted Dave quite cheerfully. + +Suddenly Doble gave up. He wheeled his horse and began to descend the +steep slope. Steadily he jogged on to town, not once turning to look +back. His soul was filled with chagrin and fury at the defeat this +stripling had given him. He was ready to pick a quarrel with the first +man who asked him a question about what had taken place at the pass. + +Nobody asked a question. Men looked at him, read the menace of his +sullen, angry face, and side-stepped his rage. They did not need to be +told that his ride had been a failure. His manner advertised it. Whatever +had taken place had not redounded to the glory of Dug Doble. + +Later in the day the foreman met the owner of the D Bar Lazy R brand +to make a detailed statement of the cost of the drive. He took peculiar +pleasure in mentioning one item. + +"That young scalawag Sanders beat you outa eighteen dollars," he said +with a sneer of triumph. + +Doble had heard the story of what Dave and Bob had done for Crawford and +of how the wounded boy had been taken to the cattleman's home and nursed +there. It pleased him now to score off what he chose to think was the +soft-headedness of his chief. + +The cattleman showed interest. "That so, Dug? Sorry. I took a fancy to +that boy. What did he do?" + +"You know how vaqueros are always comin' in and chargin' goods against +the boss. I give out the word they was to quit it. Sanders he gets a pair +of eighteen-dollar boots, then jumps the town before I find out about +it." + +Crawford started to speak, but Doble finished his story. + +"I took out after him, but my bronc went lame from a stone in its hoof. +You'll never see that eighteen plunks, Em. It don't do to pet cowhands." + +"Too bad you took all that trouble, Dug," the old cattleman began mildly. +"The fact is--" + +"Trouble. Say, I'd ride to Tombstone to get a crack at that young smart +Aleck. I told him what I'd do to him if I ever got my fists on him." + +"So you _did_ catch up with him." + +Dug drew back sulkily within himself. He did not intend to tell all he +knew about the Gunsight Pass episode. "I didn't say _when_ I told him." + +"Tha's so. You didn't. Well, I'm right sorry you took so blamed much +trouble to find him. Funny, though, he didn't tell you I gave him the +boots." + +"You--what?" The foreman snapped the question out with angry incredulity. + +The ranchman took the cigar from his mouth and leaned back easily. He was +smiling now frankly. + +"Why, yes. I told him to buy the boots and have 'em charged to my +account. And the blamed little rooster never told you, eh?" + +Doble choked for words with which to express himself. He glared at his +employer as though Crawford had actually insulted him. + +In an easy, conversational tone the cattleman continued, but now there +was a touch of frost in his eyes. + +"It was thisaway, Dug. When he and Bob knocked Steelman's plans hell west +and crooked after that yellow skunk George Doble betrayed me to Brad, the +boy lost his boots in the brush. 'Course I said to get another pair at +the store and charge 'em to me. I reckon he was havin' some fun joshin' +you." + +The foreman was furious. He sputtered with the rage that boiled inside +him. But some instinct warned him that unless he wanted to break with +Crawford completely he must restrain his impulse to rip loose. + +"All right," he mumbled. "If you told him to get 'em, 'nough said." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE CATTLE TRAIN + + +Dave stood on the fence of one of the shipping pens at the Albuquerque +stockyards and used a prod-pole to guide the bawling cattle below. The +Fifty-Four Quarter Circle was loading a train of beef steers and cows for +Denver. Just how he was going to manage it Dave did not know, but he +intended to be aboard that freight when it pulled out for the mile-high +town in Colorado. + +He had reached Albuquerque by a strange and devious route of zigzags and +back-trackings. His weary bronco he had long since sold for ten dollars +at a cow town where he had sacked his saddle to be held at a livery +stable until sent for. By blind baggage he had ridden a night and part of +a day. For a hundred miles he had actually paid his fare. The next leg of +the journey had been more exciting. He had elected to travel by freight. +For many hours he and a husky brakeman had held different opinions about +this. Dave had been chased from the rods into an empty and out of the box +car to the roof. He had been ditched half a dozen times during the night, +but each time he had managed to hook on before the train had gathered +headway. The brakeman enlisted the rest of the crew in the hunt, with the +result that the range-rider found himself stranded on the desert ten +miles from a station. He walked the ties in his high-heeled boots, and +before he reached the yards his feet were sending messages of pain at +every step. Reluctantly he bought a ticket to Albuquerque. Here he had +picked up a temporary job ten minutes after his arrival. + +A raw-boned inspector kept tally at the chute while the cattle passed up +into the car. + +"Fifteen, sixteen--prod 'em up, you Arizona--seventeen, eighteen--jab +that whiteface along--nineteen--hustle 'em in." + +The air was heavy with the dust raised by the milling cattle. Calves +stretched their necks and blatted for their mothers, which kept up in +turn a steady bawling for their strayed offspring. They were conscious +that something unusual was in progress, something that threatened their +security and comfort, and they resented it in the only way they knew. + +Car after car was jammed full of the frightened creatures as the men +moved from pen to pen, threw open and shut the big gates, and hustled the +stock up the chutes. Dave had begun work at six in the morning. A glance +at his watch showed him that it was now ten o'clock. + +A middle-aged man in wrinkled corduroys and a pinched-in white hat drove +up to the fence. "How're they coming, Sam?" he asked of the foreman in +charge. + +"We'd ought to be movin' by noon, Mr. West." + +"Fine. I've decided to send Garrison in charge. He can pick one of the +boys to take along. We can't right well spare any of 'em now. If I knew +where to find a good man--" + +The lean Arizona-born youth slid from the fence on his prod-pole and +stepped forward till he stood beside the buckboard of the cattleman. + +"I'm the man you're lookin' for, Mr. West." + +The owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter Circle brand looked him over with +keen eyes around which nets of little wrinkles spread. + +"What man?" he asked. + +"The one to help Mr. Garrison take the cattle to Denver." + +"Recommend yoreself, can you?" asked West with a hint of humor. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Who are you?" + +"Dave Sanders--from Arizona, first off." + +"Been punchin' long?" + +"Since I was a kid. Worked for the D Bar Lazy R last." + +"Ever go on a cattle train?" + +"Twice--to Kansas City." + +"Hmp!" That grunt told Dave just what the difficulty was. It said, "I +don't know you. Why should I trust you to help take a trainload of my +cattle through?" + +"You can wire to Mr. Crawford at Malapi and ask him about me," the young +fellow suggested. + +"How long you ride for him?" + +"Three years comin' grass." + +"How do I knew you you're the man you say you are?" + +"One of yore boys knows me--Bud Holway." + +West grunted again. He knew Emerson Crawford well. He was a level-headed +cowman and his word was as good as his bond. If Em said this young man +was trustworthy, the shipper was willing to take a chance on him. The +honest eye, the open face, the straightforward manner of the youth +recommended his ability and integrity. The shipper was badly in need of +a man. He made up his mind to wire. + +"Let you know later," he said, and for the moment dropped Dave out of the +conversation. + +But before noon he sent for him. + +"I've heard from Crawford," he said, and mentioned terms. + +"Whatever's fair," agreed Dave. + +An hour later he was in the caboose of a cattle train rolling eastward. +He was second in command of a shipment consigned to the Denver Terminal +Stockyards Company. Most of them were shipped by the West Cattle Company. +An odd car was a jackpot bunch of pickups composed of various brands. All +the cars were packed to the door, as was the custom of those days. + +After the train had settled down to the chant of the rails Garrison +sent Dave on a tour of the cars. The young man reported all well and +returned to the caboose. The train crew was playing poker for small +stakes. Garrison had joined them. For a time Dave watched, then read +a four-day-old newspaper through to the last advertisement. The hum of +the wheels made him drowsy. He stretched out comfortably on the seat +with his coat for a pillow. + +When he awoke it was beginning to get dark. Garrison had left the +caboose, evidently to have a look at the stock. Dave ate some crackers +and cheese, climbed to the roof, and with a lantern hanging on his arm +moved forward. + +Already a few of the calves, yielding to the pressure in the heavily +laden cars, had tried to escape it by lying down. With his prod Dave +drove back the nearest animal. Then he used the nail in the pole to twist +the tails of the calves and force them to their feet. In those days of +crowded cars almost the most important thing in transit was to keep the +cattle on their legs to prevent any from being trampled and smothered to +death. + +As the night grew older both men were busier. With their lanterns and +prod-poles they went from car to car relieving the pressure wherever it +was greatest. The weaker animals began to give way, worn out by the +heavy lurching and the jam of heavy bodies against them. They had to be +defended against their own weakness. + +Dave was crossing from the top of one car to another when he heard his +name called. He knew the voice belonged to Garrison and he listened to +make sure from which car it came. Presently he heard it a second time +and localized the sound as just below him. He entered the car by the +end door near the roof. + +"Hello! Call me?" he asked. + +"Yep. I done fell and bust my laig. Can you get me outa here?" + +"Bad, is it?" + +"Broken." + +"I'll get some of the train hands. Will you be all right till I get +back?" the young man asked. + +"I reckon. Hop along lively. I'm right in the jam here." + +The conductor stopped the train. With the help of the crew Dave got +Garrison back to the caboose. There was no doubt that the leg was broken. +It was decided to put the injured man off at the next station, send him +back by the up train, and wire West that Dave would see the cattle got +through all right. This was done. + +Dave got no more sleep that night. He had never been busier in his life. +Before morning broke half the calves were unable to keep their feet. The +only thing to do was to reload. + +He went to the conductor and asked for a siding. The man running the +train was annoyed, but he did not say so. He played for time. + +"All right. We'll come to one after a while and I'll put you on it," he +promised. + +Half an hour later the train rumbled merrily past a siding without +stopping. Dave walked back along the roof to the caboose. + +"We've just passed a siding," he told the trainman. + +"Couldn't stop there. A freight behind us has orders to take that to let +the Limited pass," he said glibly. + +Dave suspected he was lying, but he could not prove it. He asked where +the next siding was. + +"A little ways down," said a brakeman. + +The puncher saw his left eyelid droop in a wink to the conductor. He knew +now that they were "stalling" for time. The end of their run lay only +thirty miles away. They had no intention of losing two or three hours' +time while the cattle were reloaded. After the train reached the division +point another conductor and crew would have to wrestle with the problem. + +Young Sanders felt keenly his inexperience. They were taking advantage of +him because he was a boy. He did not know what to do. He had a right to +insist on a siding, but it was not his business to decide which one. + +The train rolled past another siding and into the yards of the division +town. At once Dave hurried to the station. The conductor about to take +charge of the train was talking with the one just leaving. The +range-rider saw them look at him and laugh as he approached. His blood +began to warm. + +"I want you to run this train onto a siding," he said at once. + +"You the train dispatcher?" asked the new man satirically. + +"You know who I am. I'll say right now that the cattle on this train are +suffering. Some won't last another hour. I'm goin' to reload." + +"Are you? I guess not. This train's going out soon as we've changed +engines, and that'll be in about seven minutes." + +"I'll not go with it." + +"Suit yourself," said the officer jauntily, and turned away to talk with +the other man. + +Dave walked to the dispatcher's office. The cowpuncher stated his case. + +"Fix that up with the train conductor," said the dispatcher. "He can have +a siding whenever he wants it." + +"But he won't gimme one." + +"Not my business." + +"Whose business is it?" + +The dispatcher got busy over his charts. Dave became aware that he was +going to get no satisfaction here. + +He tramped back to the platform. + +"All aboard," sang out the conductor. + +Dave, not knowing what else to do, swung on to the caboose as it passed. +He sat down on the steps and put his brains at work. There must be a way +out, if he could only find what it was. The next station was fifteen +miles down the line. Before the train stopped there Dave knew exactly +what he meant to do. He wrote out two messages. One was to the division +superintendent. The other was to Henry B. West. + +He had swung from the steps of the caboose and was in the station before +the conductor. + +"I want to send two telegrams," he told the agent. "Here they are all +ready. Rush 'em through. I want an answer here to the one to the +superintendent." + +The wire to the railroad official read: + +Conductor freight number 17 refuses me siding to reload stock in my +charge. Cattle down and dying. Serve notice herewith I put responsibility +for all loss on railroad. Will leave cars in charge of train crew. + +DAVID SANDERS + +_Representing West Cattle Company_ + +The other message was just as direct. + +Conductor refuses me siding to reload. Cattle suffering and dying. Have +wired division superintendent. Will refuse responsibility and leave train +unless siding given me. + +DAVE SANDERS + +The conductor caught the eye of the agent. + +"I'll send the wires when I get time," said the latter to the cowboy. + +"You'll send 'em now--right now," announced Dave. + +"Say, are you the president of the road?" bristled the agent. + +"You'll lose yore job within forty-eight hours if you don't send them +telegrams _now_. I'll see to that personal." Dave leaned forward and +looked at him steadily. + +The conductor spoke to the agent, nodding his head insolently toward +Dave. "Young-man-heap-swelled-head," he introduced him. + +But the agent had had a scare. It was his job at stake, not the +conductor's. He sat down sulkily and sent the messages. + +The conductor read his orders and walked to the door. "Number 17 leaving. +All aboard," he called back insolently. + +"I'm stayin' here till I hear from the superintendent," answered Dave +flatly. "You leave an' you've got them cattle to look out for. They'll be +in yore care." + +The conductor swaggered out and gave the signal to go. The train drew out +from the station and disappeared around a curve in the track. Five +minutes later it backed in again. The conductor was furious. + +"Get aboard here, you hayseed, if you're goin' to ride with me!" he +yelled. + +Dave was sitting on the platform whittling a stick. His back was +comfortably resting against a truck. Apparently he had not heard. + +The conductor strode up to him and looked down at the lank boy. "Say, are +you comin' or ain't you?" he shouted, as though he had been fifty yards +away instead of four feet. + +"Talkin' to me?" Dave looked up with amiable surprise. "Why, no, not if +you're in a hurry. I'm waitin' to hear from the superintendent." + +"If you think any boob can come along and hold my train up till I lose +my right of way you've got another guess comin'. I ain't goin' to be +sidetracked by every train on the division." + +"That's the company's business, not mine. I'm interested only in my +cattle." + +The conductor had a reputation as a bully. He had intended to override +this young fellow by weight of age, authority, and personality. That he +had failed filled him with rage. + +"Say, for half a cent I'd kick you into the middle of next week," he +said, between clamped teeth. + +The cowpuncher's steel-blue eyes met his steadily. "Do you reckon that +would be quite safe?" he asked mildly. + +That was a question the conductor had been asking himself. He did not +know. A good many cowboys carried six-shooters tucked away on their ample +persons. It was very likely this one had not set out on his long journey +without one. + +"You're more obstinate than a Missouri mule," the railroad man exploded. +"I don't have to put up with you, and I won't!" + +"No?" + +The agent came out from the station waving two slips of paper. "Heard +from the super," he called. + +One wire was addressed to Dave, the other to the conductor. Dave read: + +Am instructing conductor to put you on siding and place train crew under +your orders to reload. + +Beneath was the signature of the superintendent. + +The conductor flushed purple as he read the orders sent by his superior. + +"Well," he stormed at Dave. "What do you want? Spit it out!" + +"Run me on the siding. I'm gonna take the calves out of the cars and tie +'em on the feed-racks above." + +"How're you goin' to get 'em up?" + +"Elbow grease." + +"If you think I'll turn my crew into freight elevators because some fool +cattleman didn't know how to load right--" + +"Maybe you've got a kick comin'. I'll not say you haven't. But this is an +emergency. I'm willin' to pay good money for the time they help me." Dave +made no reference to the telegram in his hand. He was giving the +conductor a chance to save his face. + +"Oh, well, that's different. I'll put it up to the boys." + +Three hours later the wheels were once more moving eastward. Dave had had +the calves roped down to the feed-racks above the cars. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE NIGHT CLERK GETS BUSY PRONTO + + +The stars were out long before Dave's train drew into the suburbs of +Denver. It crawled interminably through squalid residence sections, +warehouses, and small manufactories, coming to a halt at last in a +wilderness of tracks on the border of a small, narrow stream flowing +sluggishly between wide banks cut in the clay. + +Dave swung down from the caboose and looked round in the dim light for +the stockyards engine that was to pick up his cars and run them to the +unloading pens. He moved forward through the mud, searching the +semi-darkness for the switch engine. It was nowhere to be seen. + +He returned to the caboose. The conductor and brakemen were just leaving. + +"My engine's not here. Some one must 'a' slipped up on his job, looks +like. Where are the stockyards?" Sanders asked. + +The conductor was a small, middle-aged man who made it his business to +get along with everybody he could. He had distinctly refused to pick up +his predecessor's quarrel with Dave. Now he stopped and scratched his +head. + +"Too bad. Can't you go uptown and 'phone out to the stockyards? Or if you +want to take a street-car out there you'll have time to hop one at Stout +Street. Last one goes about midnight." + +In those days the telephone was not a universal necessity. Dave had never +used one and did not know how to get his connection. He spent several +minutes ringing up, shouting at the operator, and trying to understand +what she told him. He did not shout at the girl because he was annoyed. +His idea was that he would have to speak loud to have his voice carry. +At last he gave up, hot and perspiring from the mental exertion. + +Outside the drug-store he just had time to catch the last stockyards car. +His watch told him that it was two minutes past twelve. + +He stepped forty-five minutes later into an office in which sat two men +with their feet on a desk. The one in his shirt-sleeves was a smug, +baldish young man with clothes cut in the latest mode. He was rather +heavy-set and looked flabby. The other man appeared to be a visitor. + +"This the office of the Denver Terminal Stockyards Company?" asked Dave. + +The clerk looked the raw Arizonan over from head to foot and back again. +The judgment that he passed was indicated by the tone of his voice. + +"Name's on the door, ain't it?" he asked superciliously. + +"You in charge here?" + +The clerk was amused, or at least took the trouble to seem so. "You might +think so, mightn't you?" + +"Are you in charge?" asked Dave evenly. + +"Maybeso. What you want?" + +"I asked you if you was runnin' this office." + +"Hell, yes! What're your eyes for?" + +The clerk's visitor sniggered. + +"I've got a train of cattle on the edge of town," explained Dave. "The +stockyards engine didn't show up." + +"Consigned to us?" + +"To the Denver Terminal Stockyards Company." + +"Name of shipper?" + +"West Cattle Company and Henry B. West." + +"All right. I'll take care of 'em." The clerk turned back to his friend. +His manner dismissed the cowpuncher. "And she says to me, 'I'd love to go +with you, Mr. Edmonds; you dance like an angel.' Then I says--" + +"When?" interrupted Dave calmly, but those who knew him might have +guessed his voice was a little too gentle. + +"I says, 'You're some little kidder,' and--" + +"When?" + +The man who danced like an angel turned halfway round, and looked at the +cowboy over his shoulder. He was irritated. + +"When what?" he snapped. + +"When you goin' to onload my stock?" + +"In the morning." + +"No, sir. You'll have it done right now. That stock has been more'n two +days without water." + +"I'm not responsible for that." + +"No, but you'll be responsible if the train ain't onloaded now," said +Dave. + +"It won't hurt 'em to wait till morning." + +"That's where you're wrong. They're sufferin'. All of 'em are alive now, +but they won't all be by mo'nin' if they ain't 'tended to." + +"Guess I'll take a chance on that, since you say it's my responsibility," +replied the clerk impudently. + +"Not none," announced the man from Arizona. "You'll get busy pronto." + +"Say, is this my business or yours?" + +"Mine and yours both." + +"I guess I can run it. If I need any help from you I'll ask for it. Watch +me worry about your old cows. I have guys coming in here every day with +hurry-up tales about how their cattle won't live unless I get a wiggle on +me. I notice they all are able to take a little nourishment next day all +right, all right." + +Dave caught at the gate of the railing which was between him and the +night clerk. He could not find the combination to open it and therefore +vaulted over. He caught the clerk back of the neck by the collar and +jounced him up and down hard in his chair. + +"You're asleep," he explained. "I got to waken you up before you can sabe +plain talk." + +The clerk looked up out of a white, frightened face. "Say, don't do that. +I got heart trouble," he said in a voice dry as a whisper. + +"What about that onloadin' proposition?" asked the Arizonan. + +"I'll see to it right away." + +Presently the clerk, with a lantern in his hand, was going across to the +railroad tracks in front of Dave. He had quite got over the idea that +this lank youth was a safe person to make sport of. + +They found the switch crew in the engine of the cab playing seven-up. + +"Got a job for you. Train of cattle out at the junction," the clerk said, +swinging up to the cab. + +The men finished the hand and settled up, but within a few minutes the +engine was running out to the freight train. + +Day was breaking before Dave tumbled into bed. He had left a call with +the clerk to be wakened at noon. When the bell rang, it seemed to him +that he had not been asleep five minutes. + +After he had eaten at the stockyards hotel he went out to have a look at +his stock. He found that on the whole the cattle had stood the trip well. +While he was still inspecting them a voice boomed at him a question. + +"Well, young fellow, are you satisfied with all the trouble you've made +me?" + +He turned, to see standing before him the owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter +Circle brand. The boy's surprise fairly leaped from his eyes. + +"Didn't expect to see me here, I reckon," the cattleman went on. "Well, +I hopped a train soon as I got yore first wire. Spill yore story, young +man." + +Dave told his tale, while the ranchman listened in grim silence. When +Sanders had finished, the owner of the stock brought a heavy hand down on +his shoulder approvingly. + +"You can ship cattle for me long as you've a mind to, boy. You fought for +that stock like as if it had been yore own. You'll do to take along." + +Dave flushed with boyish pleasure. He had not known whether the cattleman +would approve what he had done, and after the long strain of the trip +this endorsement of his actions was more to him than food or drink. + +"They say I'm kinda stubborn. I didn't aim to lie down and let those guys +run one over me," he said. + +"Yore stubbornness is money in my pocket. Do you want to go back and ride +for the Fifty-Four Quarter Circle?" + +"Maybe, after a while, Mr. West. I got business in Denver for a few +days." + +The cattleman smiled. "Most of my boys have when they hit town, I +notice." + +"Mine ain't that kind. I reckon it's some more stubbornness," explained +Dave. + +"All right. When you've finished that business I can use you." + +If Dave could have looked into the future he would have known that the +days would stretch into months and the months to years before his face +would turn toward ranch life again. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LAW PUZZLES DAVE + + +Dave knew he was stubborn. Not many men would have come on such a +wild-goose chase to Denver in the hope of getting back a favorite horse +worth so little in actual cash. But he meant to move to his end +intelligently. + +If Miller and Doble were in the city they would be hanging out at some +saloon or gambling-house. Once or twice Dave dropped in to Chuck Weaver's +place, where the sporting men from all over the continent inevitably +drifted when in Denver. But he had little expectation of finding the men +he wanted there. These two rats of the underworld would not attempt to +fleece keen-eyed professionals. They would prey on the unsophisticated. + +His knowledge of their habits took him to that part of town below +Lawrence Street. While he chatted with his foot on the rail, a glass of +beer in front of him, he made inconspicuous inquiries of bartenders. It +did not take him long to strike the trail. + +"Two fellows I knew in the cattle country said they were comin' to +Denver. Wonder if they did. One of 'em's a big fat guy name o' +Miller--kinda rolls when he walks. Other's small and has a glass eye. +Called himself George Doble when I knew him." + +"Come in here 'most every day--both of 'em. Waitin' for the Festival of +Mountain and Plain to open up. Got some kinda concession. They look to +yours truly like--" + +The bartender pulled himself up short and began polishing the top of the +bar vigorously. He was a gossipy soul, and more than once his tongue had +got him into trouble. + +"You was sayin'--" suggested the cowboy. + +"--that they're good spenders, as the fellow says," amended the +bartender, to be on the safe side. + +"When I usta know 'em they had a mighty cute little trick pony--name was +Chiquito, seems to me. Ever hear 'em mention it?" + +"They was fussin' about that horse to-day. Seems they got an offer for +him and Doble wants to sell. Miller he says no." + +"Yes?" + +"I'll tell 'em a friend asked for 'em. What name?" + +"Yes, do. Jim Smith." + +"The fat old gobbler's liable to drop in any time now." + +This seemed a good reason to Mr. Jim Smith, _alias_ David Sanders, for +dropping out. He did not care to have Miller know just yet who the kind +friend was that had inquired for him. + +But just as he was turning away a word held him for a moment. The +discretion of the man in the apron was not quite proof against his habit +of talk. + +"They been quarrelin' a good deal together. I expect the combination is +about ready to bust up," he whispered confidentially. + +"Quarrelin'? What about?" + +"Oh, I dunno. They act like they're sore as a boil at each other. Honest, +I thought they was goin' to mix it yesterday. I breezed up wit' a bottle +an' they kinda cooled off." + +"Doble drunk?" + +"Nope. Fact is, they'd trimmed a Greeley boob and was rowin' about the +split. Miller he claimed Doble held out on him. I'll bet he did too." + +Dave did not care how much they quarreled or how soon they parted after +he had got back his horse. Until that time he preferred that they would +give him only one trail to follow instead of two. + +The cowpuncher made it his business to loaf on Larimer Street for the +rest of the day. His beat was between Fifteenth and Sixteenth Streets, +usually on the other side of the road from the Klondike Saloon. + +About four o'clock his patience was rewarded. Miller came rolling along +in a sort of sailor fashion characteristic of him. Dave had just time to +dive into a pawnbroker's shop unnoticed. + +A black-haired, black-eyed salesman came forward to wait on him. The +puncher cast an eye helplessly about him. It fell on a suitcase. + +"How much?" he asked. + +"Seven dollars. Dirt sheap, my frient." + +"Got any telescope grips?" + +The salesman produced one. Dave bought it because he did not know how to +escape without. + +He carried it with him while he lounged up and down the sidewalk waiting +for Miller to come out of the Klondike. When the fat gambler reappeared, +the range-rider fell in behind him unobserved and followed uptown past +the Tabor Opera House as far as California Street. Here they swung to the +left to Fourteenth, where Miller disappeared into a rooming-house. + +The amateur detective turned back toward the business section. On the way +he dropped guiltily the telescope grip into a delivery wagon standing in +front of a grocery. He had no use for it, and he had already come to feel +it a white elephant on his hands. + +With the aid of a city directory Dave located the livery stables within +walking distance of the house where Miller was staying. Inspired perhaps +by the nickel detective stories he had read, the cowboy bought a pair of +blue goggles and a "store" collar. In this last, substituted for the +handkerchief he usually wore loosely round his throat, the sleuth nearly +strangled himself for lack of air. His inquiries at such stables as he +found brought no satisfaction. Neither Miller nor the pinto had been seen +at any of them. + +Later in the evening he met Henry B. West at the St. James Hotel. + +"How's that business of yore's gettin' along, boy?" asked the cattleman +with a smile. + +"Don' know yet. Say, Mr. West, if I find a hawss that's been stole from +me, how can I get it back?" + +"Some one steal a hawss from you?" + +Dave told his story. West listened to a finish. + +"I know a lawyer here. We'll ask him what to do," the ranchman said. + +They found the lawyer at the Athletic Club. West stated the case. + +"Your remedy is to replevin. If they fight, you'll have to bring +witnesses to prove ownership." + +"Bring witnesses from Malapi! Why, I can't do that," said Dave, +staggered. "I ain't got the money. Why can't I just take the hawss? +It's mine." + +"The law doesn't know it's yours." + +Dave left much depressed. Of course the thieves would go to a lawyer, and +of course he would tell them to fight. The law was a darned queer thing. +It made the recovery of his property so costly that the crooks who stole +it could laugh at him. + +"Looks like the law's made to protect scalawags instead of honest folks," +Dave told West. + +"I don't reckon it is, but it acts that way sometimes," admitted the +cattleman. "You can see yoreself it wouldn't do for the law to say a +fellow could get property from another man by just sayin' it was his. +Sorry, Sanders. After all, a bronc's only a bronc. I'll give you yore +pick of two hundred if you come back with me to the ranch." + +"Much obliged, seh. Maybe I will later." + +The cowpuncher walked the streets while he thought it over. He had no +intention whatever of giving up Chiquito if he could find the horse. So +far as the law went he was in a blind alley. He was tied hand and foot. +That possession was nine points before the courts he had heard before. + +The way to recover flashed to his brain like a wave of light. He must get +possession. All he had to do was to steal his own horse and make for the +hills. If the thieves found him later--and the chances were that they +would not even attempt pursuit if he let them know who he was--he would +force them to the expense of going to law for Chiquito. What was sauce +for the goose must be for the gander too. + +Dave's tramp had carried him across the Platte into North Denver. On his +way back he passed a corral close to the railroad tracks. He turned in to +look over the horses. + +The first one his eyes fell on was Chiquito. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +FOR MURDER + + +Dave whistled. The pony pricked up its ears, looked round, and came +straight to him. The young man laid his face against the soft, silky +nose, fondled it, whispered endearments to his pet. He put the bronco +through its tricks for the benefit of the corral attendant. + +"Well, I'll be doggoned," that youth commented. "The little pinto sure is +a wonder. Acts like he knows you mighty well." + +"Ought to. I trained him. Had him before Miller got him." + +"Bet you hated to sell him." + +"You _know_ it." Dave moved forward to his end, the intention to get +possession of the horse. He spoke in a voice easy and casual. "Saw Miller +a while ago. They're talkin' about sellin' the paint hawss, him and +his pardner Doble. I'm to saddle up and show what Chiquito can do." + +"Say, that's a good notion. If I was a buyer I'd pay ten bucks more after +you'd put him through that circus stuff." + +"Which is Miller's saddle?" When it was pointed out to him, Dave examined +it and pretended to disapprove. "Too heavy. Lend me a lighter one, can't +you?" + +"Sure. Here's three or four. Help yourself." + +The wrangler moved into the stable to attend to his work. + +Dave cinched, swung to the saddle, and rode to the gate of the corral. +Two men were coming in, and by the sound of their voices were quarreling. +They stepped aside to let him pass, one on each side of the gate, so +that it was necessary to ride between them. + +They recognized the pinto at the same moment Dave did them. On the heels +of that recognition came another. + +Doble ripped out an oath and a shout of warning. "It's Sanders!" + +A gun flashed as the pony jumped to a gallop. The silent night grew noisy +with shots, voices, the clatter of hoofs. Twice Dave fired answers to the +challenges which leaped out of the darkness at him. He raced across the +bridge spanning the Platte and for a moment drew up on the other side to +listen for sounds which might tell him whether he would be pursued. One +last solitary revolver shot disturbed the stillness. + +The rider grinned. "Think he'd know better than to shoot at me this far." + +He broke his revolver, extracted the empty shells, and dropped them to +the street. Then he rode up the long hill toward Highlands, passed +through that suburb of the city, and went along the dark and dusty road +to the shadows of the Rockies silhouetted in the night sky. + +His flight had no definite objective except to put as much distance +between himself and Denver as possible. He knew nothing about the +geography of Colorado, except that a large part of the Rocky Mountains +and a delectable city called Denver lived there. His train trip to it had +told him that one of its neighbors was New Mexico, which was in turn +adjacent to Arizona. Therefore he meant to get to New Mexico as quickly +as Chiquito could quite comfortably travel. + +Unfortunately Dave was going west instead of south. Every step of the +pony was carrying him nearer the roof of the continent, nearer the passes +of the front range which lead, by divers valleys and higher mountains +beyond, to the snowclad regions of eternal white. + +Up in this altitude it was too cold to camp out without a fire and +blankets. + +"I reckon we'll keep goin', old pal," the young man told his horse. "I've +noticed roads mostly lead somewheres." + +Day broke over valleys of swirling mist far below the rider. The sun rose +and dried the moisture. Dave looked down on a town scattered up and down +a gulch. + +He met an ore team and asked the driver what town it was. The man looked +curiously at him. + +"Why, it's Idaho Springs," he said. "Where you come from?" + +Dave eased himself in the saddle. "From the Southwest." + +"You're quite a ways from home. I reckon your hills ain't so uncurried +down there, are they?" + +The cowpuncher looked over the mountains. He was among the summits, aglow +in the amber light of day with the many blended colors of wild flowers. +"We got some down there, too, that don't fit a lady's boodwar. Say, if I +keep movin' where'll this road take me?" + +The man with the ore team gave information. It struck Dave that he had +run into a blind alley. + +"If you're after a job, I reckon you can find one at some of the mines. +They're needin' hands," the teamster added. + +Perhaps this was the best immediate solution of the problem. The puncher +nodded farewell and rode down into the town. + +He left Chiquito at a livery barn, after having personally fed and +watered the pinto, and went himself to a hotel. Here he registered, not +under his own name, ate breakfast, and lay down for a few hours' sleep. +When he awakened he wrote a note with the stub of a pencil to Bob Hart. +It read: + +Well, Bob, I done got Chiquito back though it sure looked like I wasn't +going to but you never can tell and as old Buck Byington says its a hell +of a long road without no bend in it and which you can bet your boots the +old alkali is right at that. Well I found the little pie-eater in Denver +O K but so gaunt he wont hardly throw a shadow and what can you expect +of scalawags like Miller and Doble who don't know how to treat a horse. +Well I run Chiquito off right under their noses and we had a little gun +play and made my getaway and I reckon I will stay a spell and work here. +Well good luck to all the boys till I see them again in the sweet by and +by. + +Dave + +P.S. Get this money order cashed old-timer and pay the boys what I +borrowed when we hit the trail after Miller and Doble. I lit out to +sudden to settle. Five to Steve and five to Buck. Well so long. + +Dave + +The puncher went to the post-office, got a money order, and mailed the +letter, after which he returned to the hotel. He intended to eat dinner +and then look for work. + +Three or four men were standing on the steps of the hotel talking with +the proprietor. Dave was quite close before the Boniface saw him. + +"That's him," the hotel-keeper said in an excited whisper. + +A brown-faced man without a coat turned quickly and looked at Sanders. He +wore a belt with cartridges and a revolver. + +"What's your name?" he demanded. + +Dave knew at once this man was an officer of the law. He knew, too, the +futility of trying to escape under the pseudonym he had written on the +register. + +"Sanders--Dave Sanders." + +"I want you." + +"So? Who are you?" + +"Sheriff of the county." + +"Whadjawant me for?" + +"Murder." + +Dave gasped. His heart beat fast with a prescience of impending disaster. +"Murder," he repeated dully. + +"You're charged with the murder of George Doble last night in Denver." + +The boy stared at him with horror-stricken eyes. "Doble? My God, did I +kill him?" He clutched at a porch post to steady himself. The hills were +sliding queerly up into the sky. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +TEN YEARS + + +All the way back to Denver, while the train ran down through the narrow, +crooked cañon, Dave's mind dwelt in a penumbra of horror. It was +impossible he could have killed Doble, he kept telling himself. He had +fired back into the night without aim. He had not even tried to hit the +men who were shooting at him. It must be some ghastly joke. + +None the less he knew by the dull ache in his heart that this awful thing +had fastened on him and that he would have to pay the penalty. He had +killed a man, snuffed out his life wantonly as a result of taking the +law into his own hands. The knowledge of what he had done shook him to +the soul. + +It remained with him, in the background of his mind, up to and through +his trial. What shook his nerve was the fact that he had taken a life, +not the certainty of the punishment that must follow. + +West called to see him at the jail, and to the cattleman Dave told the +story exactly as it had happened. The owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter +Circle walked up and down the cell rumpling his hair. + +"Boy, why didn't you let on to me what you was figurin' on pullin' off? +I knew you was some bull-haided, but I thought you had a lick o' sense +left." + +"Wisht I had," said Dave miserably. + +"Well, what's done's done. No use cryin' over the bust-up. We'd better +fix up whatever's left from the smash. First off, we'll get a lawyer, I +reckon." + +"I gotta li'l' money left--twenty-six dollars," spoke up Dave timidly. +"Maybe that's all he'll want." + +West smiled at this babe in the woods. "It'll last as long as a snowball +in you-know-where if he's like some lawyers I've met up with." + +It did not take the lawyer whom West engaged long to decide on the line +the defense must take. "We'll show that Miller and Doble were crooks and +that they had wronged Sanders. That will count a lot with a jury," he +told West. "We'll admit the killing and claim self-defense." + +The day before the trial Dave was sitting in his cell cheerlessly reading +a newspaper when visitors were announced. At sight of Emerson Crawford +and Bob Hart he choked in his throat. Tears brimmed in his eyes. Nobody +could have been kinder to him than West had been, but these were home +folks. He had known them many years. Their kindness in coming melted his +heart. + +He gripped their hands, but found himself unable to say anything in +answer to their greetings. He was afraid to trust his voice, and he +was ashamed of his emotion. + +"The boys are for you strong, Dave. We all figure you done right. Steve +he says he wouldn't worry none if you'd got Miller too," Bob breezed on. + +"Tha's no way to talk, son," reproved Crawford. "It's bad enough right +as it is without you boys wantin' it any worse. But don't you get +downhearted, Dave. We're allowin' to stand by you to a finish. It ain't +as if you'd got a good man. Doble was a mean-hearted scoundrel if ever +I met up with one. He's no loss to society. We're goin' to show the jury +that too." + +They did. By the time Crawford, Hart, and a pair of victims who had been +trapped by the sharpers had testified about Miller and Doble, these +worthies had no shred of reputation left with the jury. It was shown +that they had robbed the defendant of the horse he had trained and that +he had gone to a lawyer and found no legal redress within his means. + +But Dave was unable to prove self-defense. Miller stuck doggedly to his +story. The cowpuncher had fired the first shot. He had continued to fire, +though he must have seen Doble sink to the ground immediately. Moreover, +the testimony of the doctor showed that the fatal shot had taken effect +at close range. + +Just prior to this time there had been an unusual number of killings in +Denver. The newspapers had stirred up a public sentiment for stricter +enforcement of law. They had claimed that both judges and juries were too +easy on the gunmen who committed these crimes. Now they asked if this +cowboy killer was going to be allowed to escape. Dave was tried when this +wave of feeling was at its height and he was a victim of it. + +The jury found him guilty of murder in the second degree. The judge +sentenced him to ten years in the penitentiary. + +When Bob Hart came to say good-bye before Dave was removed to Cañon City, +the young range-rider almost broke down. He was greatly distressed at the +misfortune that had befallen his friend. + +"We're gonna stay with this, Dave. You know Crawford. He goes through +when he starts. Soon as there's a chance we'll hit the Governor for a +pardon. It's a damn shame, old pal. Tha's what it is." + +Dave nodded. A lump in his throat interfered with speech. + +"The ol' man lent me money to buy Chiquito, and I'm gonna keep the pinto +till you get out. That'll help pay yore lawyer," continued Bob. "One +thing more. You're not the only one that's liable to be sent up. +Miller's on the way back to Malapi. If he don't get a term for +hawss-stealin', I'm a liar. We got a dead open-and-shut case against +him." + +The guard who was to take Dave to the penitentiary bustled in cheerfully. +"All right, boys. If you're ready we'll be movin' down to the depot." + +The friends shook hands again. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +IN DENVER + + +The warden handed him a ticket back to Denver, and with it a stereotyped +little lecture of platitudes. + +"Your future lies before you to be made or marred by yourself, Sanders. +You owe it to the Governor who has granted this parole and to the good +friends who have worked so hard for it that you be honest and industrious +and temperate. If you do this the world will in time forget your past +mistakes and give you the right hand of fellowship, as I do now." + +The paroled man took the fat hand proffered him because he knew the +warden was a sincere humanitarian. He meant exactly what he said. Perhaps +he could not help the touch of condescension. But patronage, no matter +how kindly meant, was one thing this tall, straight convict would not +stand. He was quite civil, but the hard, cynical eyes made the warden +uncomfortable. Once or twice before he had known prisoners like this, +quiet, silent men who were never insolent, but whose eyes told him that +the iron had seared their souls. + +The voice of the warden dropped briskly to business. "Seen the +bookkeeper? Everything all right, I suppose." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Good. Well, wish you luck." + +"Thanks." + +The convict turned away, grave, unsmiling. + +The prison officer's eyes followed him a little wistfully. His function, +as he understood it, was to win these men back to fitness for service to +the society which had shut them up for their misdeeds. They were not +wild beasts. They were human beings who had made a misstep. Sometimes he +had been able to influence men strongly, but he felt that it had not been +true of this puncher from the cow country. + +Sanders walked slowly out of the office and through the door in the wall +that led back to life. He was free. To-morrow was his. All the to-morrows +of all the years of his life were waiting for him. But the fact stirred +in him no emotion. As he stood in the dry Colorado sunshine his heart was +quite dead. + +In the earlier days of his imprisonment it had not been so. He had +dreamed often of this hour. At night, in the darkness of his cell, +imagination had projected picture after picture of it, vivid, colorful, +set to music. But his parole had come too late. The years had taken +their toll of him. The shadow of the prison had left its chill, had done +something to him that had made him a different David Sanders from the boy +who had entered. He wondered if he would ever learn to laugh again, if he +would ever run to meet life eagerly as that other David Sanders had a +thousand years ago. + +He followed the road down to the little station and took a through train +that came puffing out of the Royal Gorge on its way to the plains. +Through the crowd at the Denver depot he passed into the city, moving +up Seventeenth Street without definite aim or purpose. His parole had +come unexpectedly, so that none of his friends could meet him even if +they had wanted to do so. He was glad of this. He preferred to be alone, +especially during these first days of freedom. It was his intention to go +back to Malapi, to the country he knew and loved, but he wished to pick +up a job in the city for a month or two until he had settled into a frame +of mind in which liberty had become a habit. + +Early next morning he began his search for work. It carried him to a +lumber yard adjoining the railroad yards. + +"We need a night watchman," the superintendent said. "Where'd you work +last?" + +"At Cañon City." + +The lumberman looked at him quickly, a question in his glance. + +"Yes," Dave went on doggedly. "In the penitentiary." + +A moment's awkward embarrassment ensued. + +"What were you in for?" + +"Killing a man." + +"Too bad. I'm afraid--" + +"He had stolen my horse and I was trying to get it back. I had no +intention of hitting him when I fired." + +"I'd take you in a minute so far as I'm concerned personally, but our +board of directors--afraid they wouldn't like it. That's one trouble in +working for a corporation." + +Sanders turned away. The superintendent hesitated, then called after him. + +"If you're up against it and need a dollar--" + +"Thanks. I don't. I'm looking for work, not charity," the applicant said +stiffly. + +Wherever he went it was the same. As soon as he mentioned the prison, +doors of opportunity closed to him. Nobody wanted to employ a man +tarred with that pitch. It did not matter why he had gone, under what +provocation he had erred. The thing that damned him was that he had been +there. It was a taint, a corrosion. + +He could have picked up a job easily enough if he had been willing to lie +about his past. But he had made up his mind to tell the truth. In the +long run he could not conceal it. Better start with the slate clean. + +When he got a job it was to unload cars of fruit for a commission house. +A man was wanted in a hurry and the employer did not ask any questions. +At the end of an hour he was satisfied. + +"Fellow hustles peaches like he'd been at it all his life," the +commission man told his partner. + +A few days later came the question that Sanders had been expecting. +"Where'd you work before you came to us?" + +"At the penitentiary." + +"A guard?" asked the merchant, taken aback. + +"No. I was a convict." The big lithe man in overalls spoke quietly, his +eyes meeting those of the Market Street man with unwavering steadiness. + +"What was the trouble?" + +Dave explained. The merchant made no comment, but when he paid off the +men Saturday night he said with careful casualness, "Sorry, Sanders. The +work will be slack next week. I'll have to lay you off." + +The man from Cañon City understood. He looked for another place, was +rebuffed a dozen times, and at last was given work by an employer who had +vision enough to know the truth that the bad men do not all go to prison +and that some who go may be better than those who do not. + +In this place Sanders lasted three weeks. He was doing concrete work on a +viaduct job for a contractor employed by the city. + +This time it was a fellow-workman who learned of the Arizonan's record. +A letter from Emerson Crawford, forwarded by the warden of the +penitentiary, dropped out of Dave's coat pocket where it hung across +a plank. + +The man who picked it up read the letter before returning it to the +pocket. He began at once to whisper the news. The subject was discussed +back and forth among the men on the quiet. Sanders guessed they had +discovered who he was, but he waited for them to move. His years in +prison had given him at least the strength of patience. He could bide +his time. + +They went to the contractor. He reasoned with them. + +"Does his work all right, doesn't he? Treats you all civilly. Doesn't +force himself on you. I don't see any harm in him." + +"We ain't workin' with no jail bird," announced the spokesman. + +"He told me the story and I've looked it up since. Talked with the lawyer +that defended him. He says the man Sanders killed was a bad lot and had +stolen his horse from him. Sanders was trying to get it back. He claimed +self-defense, but couldn't prove it." + +"Don't make no difference. The jury said he was guilty, didn't it?" + +"Suppose he was. We've got to give him a chance when he comes out, +haven't we?" + +Some of the men began to weaken. They were not cruel, but they were +children of impulse, easily led by those who had force enough to push +to the front. + +"I won't mix cement with no convict," the self-appointed leader announced +flatly. "That goes." + +The contractor met him eye to eye. "You don't have to, Reynolds. You can +get your time." + +"Meanin' that you keep him on the job and let me go?" + +"That's it exactly. Long as he does his work well I'll not ask him to +quit." + +A shadow darkened the doorway of the temporary office. The Arizonan +stepped in with his easy, swinging stride, a lithe, straight-backed +Hermes showing strength of character back of every movement. + +"I'm leaving to-day, Mr. Shields." His voice carried the quiet power of +reserve force. + +"Not because I want you to, Sanders." + +"Because I'm not going to stay and make you trouble." + +"I don't think it will come to that. I'm talking it over with the boys +now. Your work stands up. I've no criticism." + +"I'll not stay now, Mr. Shields. Since they've complained to you I'd +better go." + +The ex-convict looked around, the eyes in his sardonic face hard and +bitter. If he could have read the thoughts of the men it would have been +different. Most of them were ashamed of their protest. They would have +liked to have drawn back, but they did not know how to say so. Therefore +they stood awkwardly silent. Afterward, when it was too late, they talked +it over freely enough and blamed each other. + +From one job to another Dave drifted. His stubborn pride, due in part to +a native honesty that would not let him live under false pretenses, in +part to a bitterness that had become dogged defiance, kept him out of +good places and forced him to do heavy, unskilled labor that brought the +poorest pay. + +Yet he saved money, bought himself good, cheap clothes, and found energy +to attend night school where he studied stationary and mechanical +engineering. He lived wholly within himself, his mental reactions tinged +with morose scorn. He found little comfort either in himself or in the +external world, in spite of the fact that he had determined with all his +stubborn will to get ahead. + +The library he patronized a good deal, but he gave no time to general +literature. His reading was of a highly specialized nature. He studied +everything that he could find about the oil fields of America. + +The stigma of his disgrace continued to raise its head. One of the +concrete workers was married to the sister of the woman from whom he +rented his room. The quiet, upstanding man who never complained or asked +any privileges had been a favorite of hers, but she was a timid, +conventional soul. Visions of her roomers departing in a flock when they +found out about the man in the second floor back began to haunt her +dreams. Perhaps he might rob them all at night. In a moment of nerve +tension, summoning all her courage, she asked the killer from the cattle +country if he would mind leaving. + +He smiled grimly and began to pack. For several days he had seen it +coming. When he left, the expressman took his trunk to the station. The +ticket which Sanders bought showed Malapi as his destination. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +DAVE MEETS TWO FRIENDS AND A FOE + + +In the early morning Dave turned to rest his cramped limbs. He was in a +day coach, and his sleep through the night had been broken. The light +coming from the window woke him. He looked out on the opalescent dawn +of the desert, and his blood quickened at sight of the enchanted mesa. +To him came that joyous thrill of one who comes home to his own after +years of exile. + +Presently he saw the silvery sheen of the mesquite when the sun is +streaming westward. Dust eddies whirled across the barranca. The prickly +pear and the palo verde flashed past, green splashes against a background +of drab. The pudgy creosote, the buffalo grass, the undulation of sand +hills were an old story, but to-day his eyes devoured them hungrily. The +wonderful effect of space and light, the cloud skeins drawn out as by +some invisible hand, the brown ribbon of road that wandered over the +hill: they brought to him an emotion poignant and surprising. + +The train slid into a narrow valley bounded by hills freakishly eroded to +fantastic shapes. Piñon trees fled to the rear. A sheep corral fenced +with brush and twisted roots, in which were long, shallow feed troughs +and flat-roofed sheds, leaped out of nowhere, was for a few moments, and +vanished like a scene in a moving picture. A dim, gray mass of color on a +hillside was agitated like a sea wave. It was a flock of sheep moving +toward the corral. For an instant Dave caught a glimpse of a dog circling +the huddled pack; then dog and sheep were out of sight together. + +The pictures stirred memories of the acrid smoke of hill camp-fires, of +nights under a tarp with the rain beating down on him, and still others +of a road herd bawling for water, of winter camps when the ropes were +frozen stiff and the snow slid from trees in small avalanches. + +At the junction he took the stage for Malapi. Already he could see that +he was going into a new world, one altogether different from that he had +last seen here. These men were not cattlemen. They talked the vocabulary +of oil. They had the shrewd, keen look of the driller and the wildcatter. +They were full of nervous energy that oozed out in constant conversation. + +"Jackpot Number Three lost a string o' tools yesterday. While they're +fishin', Steelman'll be drillin' hell-a-mile. You got to sit up all night +to beat that Coal Oil Johnny," one wrinkled little man said. + +A big man in boots laced over corduroy trousers nodded. "He's smooth as a +pump plunger, and he sure has luck. He can buy up a dry hole any old time +and it'll be a gusher in a week. He'll bust Em Crawford high and dry +before he finishes with him. Em had ought to 'a' stuck to cattle. That's +one game he knows from hoof to hide." + +"Sure. Em's got no business in oil. Say, do you know when they're +expectin' Shiloh Number Two in?" + +"She's into the sand now, but still dry as a cork leg. That's liable to +put a crimp in Em's bank roll, don't you reckon?" + +"Yep. Old Man Hard Luck's campin' on his trail sure enough. The banks'll +be shakin' their heads at his paper soon." + +The stage had stopped to take on a mailsack. Now it started again, and +the rest of the talk was lost to Dave. But he had heard enough to guess +that the old feud between Crawford and Steelman had taken on a new phase, +one in which his friend was likely to get the worst of it. + +At Malapi Dave descended from the stage into a town he hardly knew. It +had the same wide main street, but the business section extended five +blocks instead of one. Everywhere oil dominated the place. Hotels, +restaurants, and hardware stores jostled saloons and gambling-houses. +Tents had been set up in vacant lots beside frame buildings, and in them +stores, rooming-houses, and lunch-counters were doing business. Everybody +was in a hurry. The street was filled with men who had to sleep with one +eye open lest they miss the news of some new discovery. + +The town was having growing-pains. One contractor was putting down +sidewalks in the same street where another laid sewer pipe and a third +put in telephone poles. A branch line of a trans-continental railroad was +moving across the desert to tap the new oil field. Houses rose overnight. +Mule teams jingled in and out freighting supplies to Malapi and from +there to the fields. On all sides were rustle, energy, and optimism, +signs of the new West in the making. + +Up the street a team of half-broken broncos came on the gallop, weaving +among the traffic with a certainty that showed a skilled pair of hands +at the reins. From the buckboard stepped lightly a straight-backed, +well-muscled young fellow. He let out a moment later a surprised shout +of welcome and fell upon Sanders with two brown fists. + +"Dave! Where in Mexico you been, old alkali? We been lookin' for you +everywhere." + +"In Denver, Bob." + +Sanders spoke quietly. His eyes went straight into those of Bob Hart to +see what was written there. He found only a glad and joyous welcome, +neither embarrassment nor any sign of shame. + +"But why didn't you write and let us know?" Bob grew mildly profane in +his warmth. He was as easy as though his friend had come back from a week +in the hills on a deer hunt. "We didn't know when the Governor was goin' +to act. Or we'd 'a' been right at the gate, me or Em Crawford one. Whyn't +you answer our letters, you darned old scalawag? Dawggone, but I'm glad +to see you." + +Dave's heart warmed to this fine loyalty. He knew that both Hart and +Crawford had worked in season and out of season for a parole or a pardon. +But it's one thing to appear before a pardon board for a convict in whom +you are interested and quite another to welcome him to your heart when he +stands before you. Bob would do to tie to, Sanders told himself with a +rush of gratitude. None of this feeling showed in his dry voice. + +"Thanks, Bob." + +Hart knew already that Dave had come back a changed man. He had gone in a +boy, wild, turbulent, untamed. He had come out tempered by the fires of +experience and discipline. The steel-gray eyes were no longer frank and +gentle. They judged warily and inscrutably. He talked little and mostly +in monosyllables. It was a safe guess that he was master of his impulses. +In his manner was a cold reticence entirely foreign to the Dave Sanders +his friend had known and frolicked with. Bob felt in him a quality of +dangerous strength as hard and cold as hammered iron. + +"Where's yore trunk? I'll take it right up to my shack," Hart said. + +"I've rented a room." + +"Well, you can onrent it. You're stayin' with me." + +"No, Bob. I reckon I won't do that. I'll live alone awhile." + +"No, sir. What do you take me for? We'll load yore things up on the +buckboard." + +Dave shook his head. "I'm much obliged, but I'd rather not yet. Got to +feel out my way while I learn the range here." + +To this Bob did not consent without a stiff protest, but Sanders was +inflexible. + +"All right. Suit yoreself. You always was stubborn as a Missouri mule," +Hart said with a grin. "Anyhow, you'll eat supper with me. Le's go to the +Delmonico for ol' times' sake. We'll see if Hop Lee knows you. I'll bet +he does." + +Hart had come in to see a contractor about building a derrick for a well. +"I got to see him now, Dave. Go along with me," he urged. + +"No, see you later. Want to get my trunk from the depot." + +They arranged an hour of meeting at the restaurant. + +In front of the post-office Bob met Joyce Crawford. The young woman had +fulfilled the promise of her girlhood. As she moved down the street, tall +and slender, there was a light, joyous freedom in her step. So Ellen +Terry walked in her resilient prime. + +"Miss Joyce, he's here," Bob said. + +"Who--Dave?" + +She and her father and Bob had more than once met as a committee of three +to discuss the interests of Sanders both before and since his release. +The week after he left Cañon City letters of thanks had reached both Hart +and Crawford, but these had given no address. Their letters to him had +remained unanswered nor had a detective agency been able to find him. + +"Yes, ma'am, Dave! He's right here in town. Met him half an hour ago." + +"I'm glad. How does he look?" + +"He's grown older, a heap older. And he's different. You know what an +easy-goin' kid he was, always friendly and happy as a half-grown pup. +Well, he ain't thataway now. Looks like he never would laugh again +real cheerful. I don't reckon he ever will. He's done got the prison +brand on him for good. I couldn't see my old Dave in him a-tall. He's +hard as nails--and bitter." + +The brown eyes softened. "He would be, of course. How could he help it?" + +"And he kinda holds you off. He's been hurt bad and ain't takin' no +chances whatever, don't you reckon?" + +"Do you mean he's broken?" + +"Not a bit. He's strong, and he looks at you straight and hard. But +they've crushed all the kid outa him. He was a mighty nice boy, Dave was. +I hate to lose him." + +"When can I see him?" she asked. + +Bob looked at his watch. "I got an appointment to meet him at Delmonico's +right now. Maybe I can get him to come up to the house afterward." + +Joyce was a young woman who made swift decisions. "I'll go with you now," +she said. + +Sanders was standing in front of the restaurant, but he was faced in the +other direction. His flat, muscular back was rigid. In his attitude was a +certain tenseness, as though his body was a bundle of steel springs ready +to be released. + +Bob's eye traveled swiftly past him to a fat man rolling up the street on +the opposite sidewalk. "It's Ad Miller, back from the pen. I heard he got +out this week," he told the girl in a low voice. + +Joyce Crawford felt the blood ebb from her face. It was as though her +heart had been drenched with ice water. What was going to take place +between these men? Were they armed? Would the gambler recognize his old +enemy? + +She knew that each was responsible for the other's prison sentence. +Sanders had followed the thieves to Denver and found them with his horse. +The fat crook had lied Dave into the penitentiary by swearing that the +boy had fired the first shots. Now they were meeting for the first time +since. + +Miller had been drinking. The stiff precision of his gait showed that. +For a moment it seemed that he would pass without noticing the man across +the road. Then, by some twist of chance, he decided to take the sidewalk +on the other side. The sign of the Delmonico had caught his eye and he +remembered that he was hungry. + +He took one step--and stopped. He had recognized Sanders. His eyes +narrowed. The head on his short, red neck was thrust forward. + +"Goddlemighty!" he screamed, and next moment was plucking a revolver from +under his left armpit. + +Bob caught Joyce and swept her behind him, covering her with his body as +best he could. At the same time Sanders plunged forward, arrow-straight +and swift. The revolver cracked. It spat fire a second time, a third. The +tiger-man, head low, his whole splendid body vibrant with energy, hurled +himself across the road as though he had been flung from a catapult. A +streak of fire ripped through his shoulder. Another shot boomed almost +simultaneously. He thudded hard into the fat paunch of the gunman. They +went down together. + +The fingers of Dave's left hand closed on the fat wrist of the gambler. +His other hand tore the revolver away from the slack grasp. The gun rose +and fell. Miller went into unconsciousness without even a groan. The +corrugated butt of the gun had crashed down on his forehead. + +Dizzily Sanders rose. He leaned against a telephone pole for support. The +haze cleared to show him the white, anxious face of a young woman. + +"Are you hurt?" she asked. + +Dave looked at Joyce, wondering at her presence here. "He's the one +that's hurt," he answered quietly. + +"I thought--I was afraid--" Her voice died away. She felt her knees grow +weak. To her this man had appeared to be plunging straight to death. + +No excitement in him reached the surface. His remarkably steady eyes +still held their grim, hard tenseness, but otherwise his self-control was +perfect. He was absolutely imperturbable. + +"He was shootin' wild. Sorry you were here, Miss Crawford." His eyes +swept the gathering crowd. "You'd better go, don't you reckon?" + +"Yes.... You come too, please." The girl's voice broke. + +"Don't worry. It's all over." He turned to the crowd. "He began shootin +'at me. I was unarmed. He shot four times before I got to him." + +"Tha's right. I saw it from up street," a stranger volunteered. "Where do +you take out yore insurance, friend? I'd like to get some of the same." + +"I'll be in town here if I'm wanted," Dave announced before he came back +to where Bob and Joyce were standing. "Now we'll move, Miss Crawford." + +At the second street corner he stopped, evidently intending to go no +farther. "I'll say good-bye, for this time. I'll want to see Mr. Crawford +right soon. How is little Keith comin' on?" + +She had mentioned that the boy frequently spoke of him. + +"Can you come up to see Father to-night? Or he'll go to your room if +you'd rather." + +"Maybe to-morrow--" + +"He'll be anxious to see you. I want you and Bob to come to dinner +Sunday." + +"Don't hardly think I'll be here Sunday. My plans aren't settled. Thank +you just the same, Miss Crawford." + +She took his words as a direct rebuff. There was a little lump in her +throat that she had to get rid of before she spoke again. + +"Sorry. Perhaps some other time." Joyce gave him her hand. "I'm mighty +glad to have seen you again, Mr. Sanders." + +He bowed. "Thank you." + +After she had gone, Dave turned swiftly to his friend. "Where's the +nearest doctor's office? Miller got me in the shoulder." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +OIL + + +"I'll take off my hat to Dave," said Hart warmly. "He's chain lightnin'. +I never did see anything like the way he took that street in two jumps. +And game? Did you ever hear tell of an unarmed man chargin' a guy with a +gun spittin' at him?" + +"I always knew he had sand in his craw. What does Doc Green say?" asked +Crawford, lighting a corncob pipe. + +"Says nothin' to worry about. A flesh wound in the shoulder. Ought to +heal up in a few days." + +Miss Joyce speaking, with an indignant tremor of the voice: "It was +the most cowardly thing I ever saw. He was unarmed, and he hadn't +lifted a finger when that ruffian began to shoot. I was sure he would +be ... killed." + +"He'll take a heap o' killin', that boy," her father reassured. "In a way +it's a good thing this happened now. His enemies have showed their hand. +They tried to gun him, before witnesses, while he was unarmed. Whatever +happens now, Dave's got public sentiment on his side. I'm always glad to +have my enemy declare himself. Then I can take measures." + +"What measures can Dave take?" asked Joyce. + +A faint, grim smile flitted across the old cattleman's face. "Well, one +measure he'll take pronto will be a good six-shooter on his hip. One I'll +take will be to send Miller back to the pen, where he belongs, soon as I +can get court action. He's out on parole, like Dave is. All the State has +got to do is to reach out and haul him back again." + +"If it can find him," added Bob dryly. "I'll bet it can't. He's headed +for the hills or the border right now." + +Crawford rose. "Well, I'll run down with you to his room and see the boy, +Bob. Wisht he would come up and stay with us. Maybe he will." + +To the cattleman Dave made light of his wound. He would be all right in a +few days, he said. It was only a scratch. + +"Tha's good, son," Crawford answered. "Well, now, what are you aimin' to +do? I got a job for you on the ranch if tha's what you want. Or I can use +you in the oil business. It's for you to say which." + +"Oil," said Dave without a moment of hesitation. "I want to learn that +business from the ground up. I've been reading all I could get on the +subject." + +"Good enough, but don't you go to playin' geology too strong, Dave. Oil +is where it's at. The formation don't amount to a damn. You'll find it +where you find it." + +"Mr. Crawford ain't strong for the scientific sharps since a college +professor got him to drill a nice straight hole on Round Top plumb +halfway to China," drawled Bob with a grin. + +"I suppose it's a gamble," agreed Sanders. + +"Worse'n the cattle market, and no livin' man can guess that," said the +owner of the D Bar Lazy R dogmatically. "Bob, you better put Dave with +the crew of that wildcat you're spuddin' in, don't you reckon?" + +"I'll put him on afternoon tower in place of that fellow Scott. I've been +intendin' to fire him soon as I could get a good man." + +"Much obliged to you both. Hope you've found that good man," said +Sanders. + +"We have. Ain't either of us worryin' about that." With a quizzical smile +Crawford raised a point that was in his mind. "Say, son, you talk a heap +more like a book than you used to. You didn't slip one over on us and go +to college, did you?" + +"I went to school in the penitentiary," Dave said. + +He had been immured in a place of furtive, obscene whisperings, but he +had found there not only vice. There was the chance of an education. He +had accepted it at first because he dared not let himself be idle in his +spare time. That way lay degeneration and the loss of his manhood. He had +studied under competent instructors English, mathematics, the Spanish +grammar, and mechanical drawing, as well as surveying and stationary +engineering. He had read some of the world's best literature. He had +waded through a good many histories. If his education in books was +lopsided, it was in some respects more thorough than that of many a +college boy. + +Dave did not explain all this. He let his simple statement of fact stand +without enlarging on it. His life of late years had tended to make him +reticent. + +"Heard from Burns yet about that fishin' job on Jackpot Number Three?" +Bob asked Crawford. + +"Only that he thinks he hooked the tools and lost 'em again. Wisht you'd +run out in the mo'nin', son, and see what's doin'. I got to go out to the +ranch." + +"I'll drive out to-night and take Dave with me if he feels up to it. Then +we'll know the foreman keeps humpin'." + +"Fine and dandy." The cattleman turned to Sanders. "But I reckon you +better stay right here and rest up. Time enough for you to go to work +when yore shoulder's all right." + +"Won't hurt me a bit to drive out with Bob. This thing's going to keep me +awake anyhow. I'd rather be outdoors." + +They drove out in the buckboard behind the half-broken colts. The young +broncos went out of town to a flying start. They raced across the plain +as hard as they could tear, the light rig swaying behind them as the +wheels hit the high spots. Not till they had worn out their first wild +energy was conversation possible. + +Bob told of his change of occupation. + +"Started dressin' tools on a wildcat test for Crawford two years ago when +he first begun to plunge in oil. Built derricks for a while. Ran a drill. +Dug sump holes. Shot a coupla wells. Went in with a fellow on a star rig +as pardner. Went busted and took Crawford's offer to be handy man for +him. Tha's about all, except that I own stock in two-three dead ones and +some that ain't come to life yet." + +The road was full of chuck holes and very dusty, both faults due to the +heavy travel that went over it day and night. They were in the oil field +now and gaunt derricks tapered to the sky to right and left of them. +Occasionally Dave could hear the kick of an engine or could see a big +beam pumping. + +"I suppose most of the D Bar Lazy R boys have got into oil some," +suggested Sanders. + +"Every man, woman, and kid around is in oil neck deep," Bob answered. +"Malapi's gone oil crazy. Folks are tradin' and speculatin' in stock +and royalty rights that never could amount to a hill o' beans. Slick +promoters are gettin' rich. I've known photographers to fake gushers in +their dark-rooms. The country's full of abandoned wells of busted +companies. Oil is a big man's game. It takes capital to operate. I'll +bet it ain't onct in a dozen times an investor gets a square run for +his white alley, at that." + +"There are crooks in every game." + +"Sure, but oil's so darned temptin' to a crook. All the suckers are +shovin' money at a promoter. They don't ask his capitalization or +investigate his field. Lots o' promoters would hate like Sam Hill to +strike oil. If they did they'd have to take care of it. That's a lot +of trouble. They can make more organizin' a new company and rakin' in +money from new investors." + +Bob swung the team from the main road and put it at a long rise. + +"There ain't nothin' easier than to drop money into a hole in the +ground and call it an oil well," he went on. "Even if the proposition +is absolutely on the level, the chances are all against the investor. +It's a fifty-to-one shot. Tools are lost, the casin' collapses, the cable +breaks, money gives out, shootin' is badly done, water filters in, or oil +ain't there in payin' quantities. In a coupla years you can buy a deskful +of no-good stock for a dollar Mex." + +"Then why is everybody in it?" + +"We've all been bit by this get-rich-quick bug. If you hit it right in +oil you can wear all the diamonds you've a mind to. That's part of it, +but it ain't all. The West always did like to take a chance, I reckon. +Well, this is gamblin' on a big scale and it gets into a fellow's blood. +We're all crazy, but we'd hate to be cured." + +The driver stopped at the location of Jackpot Number Three and invited +his friend to get out. + +"Make yoreself to home, Dave. I reckon you ain't sorry that fool team has +quit joltin' yore shoulder." + +Sanders was not, but he did not say so. He could stand the pain of his +wound easily enough, but there was enough of it to remind him pretty +constantly that he had been in a fight. + +The fishing for the string of lost tools was going on by lamplight. With +a good deal of interest Dave examined the big hooks that had been sent +down in an unsuccessful attempt to draw out the drill. It was a slow +business and a not very interesting one. The tools seemed as hard to hook +as a wily old trout. Presently Sanders wandered to the bunkhouse and sat +down on the front step. He thought perhaps he had not been wise to come +out with Hart. His shoulder throbbed a good deal. + +After a time Bob joined him. Faintly there came to them the sound of an +engine thumping. + +"Steelman's outfit," said Hart gloomily. "His li'l' old engine goes right +on kickin' all the darned time. If he gets to oil first we lose. Man who +makes first discovery on a claim wins out in this country." + +"How's that? Didn't you locate properly?" + +"Had no time to do the assessment work after we located. Dug a sump hole, +maybe. Brad jumps in when the field here began to look up. Company that +shows oil first will sure win out." + +"How deep has he drilled?" + +"We're a li'l' deeper--not much. Both must be close to the sands. We were +showin' driller's smut when we lost our string." Bob reached into his hip +pocket and drew out "the makings." He rolled his cigarette and lit it. +"I reckon Steelman's a millionaire now--on paper, anyhow. He was about +busted when he got busy in oil. He was lucky right off, and he's crooked +as a dawg's hind laig--don't care how he gets his, so he gets it. He sure +trimmed the suckers a-plenty." + +"He and Crawford are still unfriendly," Dave suggested, the inflection of +his voice making the statement a question. + +"Onfriendly!" drawled Bob, leaning back against the step and letting a +smoke ring curl up. "Well, tha's a good, nice parlor word. Yes, I reckon +you could call them onfriendly." Presently he went on, in explanation: +"Brad's goin' to put Crawford down and out if it can be done by hook or +crook. He's a big man in the country now. We haven't been lucky, like he +has. Besides, the ol' man's company's on the square. This business ain't +like cows. It takes big money to swing. You make or break mighty sudden." + +"Yes." + +"And Steelman won't stick at a thing. Wouldn't trust him or any one of +his crowd any further than I could sling a bull by the tail. He'd blow +Crawford and me sky high if he thought he could get away with it." + +Sanders nodded agreement. He hadn't a doubt of it. + +With a thumb jerk toward the beating engine, Bob took up again his story. +"Got a bunch of thugs over there right now ready for business if +necessary. Imported plug-uglies and genuwine blown-in-the-bottle home +talent. Shorty's still one of the gang, and our old friend Dug Doble is +boss of the rodeo. I'm lookin' for trouble if we win out and get to oil +first." + +"You think they'll attack." + +A gay light of cool recklessness danced in the eyes of the young oilman. +"I've a kinda notion they'll drap over and pay us a visit one o' these +nights, say in the dark of the moon. If they do--well, we certainly aim +to welcome them proper." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +DOBLE PAYS A VISIT + + +"Hello, the Jackpot!" + +Out of the night the call came to the men at the bunkhouse. + +Bob looked at his companion and grinned. "Seems to me I recognize that +melojious voice." + +A man stepped from the gloom with masterful, arrogant strides. + +"'Lo, Hart," he said. "Can you lend me a reamer?" + +Bob knew he had come to spy out the land and not to borrow tools. + +"Don't seem to me we've hardly got any reamers to spare, Dug," drawled +the young man sitting on the porch floor. "What's the trouble? Got a kink +in yore casin'?" + +"Not so you could notice it, but you never can tell when you're goin' to +run into bad luck, can you?" He sat down on the porch and took a cigar +from his vest pocket. "What with losin' tools and one thing an' 'nother, +this oil game sure is hell. By the way, how's yore fishin' job comin' +on?" + +"Fine, Dug. We ain't hooked our big fish yet, but we're hopeful." + +Dave was sitting in the shadow. Doble nodded carelessly to him without +recognition. It was characteristic of his audacity that Dug had walked +over impudently to spy out the camp of the enemy. Bob knew why he had +come, and he knew that Bob knew. Yet both ignored the fact that he was +not welcome. + +"I've known fellows angle a right long time for a trout and not catch +him," said Doble, stretching his long legs comfortably. + +"Yes," agreed Bob. "Wish I could hire you to throw a monkey wrench in +that engine over there. Its chuggin' keeps me awake." + +"I'll bet it does. Well, young fellow, you can't hire me or anybody else +to stop it," retorted Doble, an edge to his voice. + +"Well, I just mentioned it," murmured Hart. "I don't aim to rile yore +feelin's. We'll talk of somethin' else.... Hope you enjoyed that reunion +this week with yore old friend, absent far, but dear to memory ever." + +"Referrin' to?" demanded Doble with sharp hostility. + +"Why, Ad Miller, Dug." + +"Is he a friend of mine?" + +"Ain't he?" + +"Not that I ever heard tell of." + +"Glad of that. You won't miss him now he's lit out." + +"Oh, he's lit out, has he?" + +"A li'l bird whispered to me he had." + +"When?" + +"This evenin', I understand." + +"Where'd he go?" + +"He didn't leave any address. Called away on sudden business." + +"Did he mention the business?" + +"Not to me." Bob turned to his friend. "Did he say anything to you about +that, Dave?" + +In the silence one might have heard a watch tick, Doble leaned forward, +his body rigid, danger written large in his burning eyes and clenched +fist. + +"So you're back," he said at last in a low, harsh voice. + +"I'm back." + +"It would 'a' pleased me if they had put a rope round yore neck, Mr. +Convict." + +Dave made no comment. Nobody could have guessed from his stillness how +fierce was the blood pressure at his temples. + +"It's a difference of opinion makes horse-races, Dug," said Bob lightly. + +The big ex-foreman rose snarling. "For half a cent I'd gun you here and +now like you did George." + +Sanders looked at him steadily, his hands hanging loosely by his sides. + +"I wouldn't try that, Dug," warned Hart. "Dave ain't armed, but I am. My +hand's on my six-shooter right this minute. Don't make a mistake." + +The ex-foreman glared at him. Doble was a strong, reckless devil of a +fellow who feared neither God nor man. A primeval savagery burned in +his blood, but like most "bad" men he had that vein of caution in his +make-up which seeks to find its victim at disadvantage. He knew Hart too +well to doubt his word. One cannot ride the range with a man year in, +year out, without knowing whether the iron is in his arteries. + +"Declarin' yoreself in on this, are you?" he demanded ominously, showing +his teeth. + +"I've always been in on it, Dug. Took a hand at the first deal, the day +of the race. If you're lookin' for trouble with Dave, you'll find it goes +double." + +"Not able to play his own hand, eh?" + +"Not when you've got a six-shooter and he hasn't. Not after he has just +been wounded by another gunman he cleaned up with his bare hands. You and +yore friends are lookin' for things too easy." + +"Easy, hell! I'll fight you and him both, with or without guns. Any time. +Any place." + +Doble backed away till his figure grew vague in the darkness. Came the +crack of a revolver. A bullet tore a splinter from the wall of the shack +in front of which Dave was standing. A jeering laugh floated to the two +men, carried on the light night breeze. + +Bob whipped out his revolver, but he did not fire. He and his friend +slipped quietly to the far end of the house and found shelter round the +corner. + +"Ain't that like Dug, the damned double-crosser?" whispered Bob. "I +reckon he didn't try awful hard to hit you. Just sent his compliments +kinda casual to show good-will." + +"I reckon he didn't try very hard to miss me either," said Dave dryly. +"The bullet came within a foot of my head." + +"He's one bad citizen, if you ask me," admitted Hart, without reluctance. +"Know how he came to break with the old man? He had the nerve to start +beauin' Miss Joyce. She wouldn't have it a minute. He stayed right with +it--tried to ride over her. Crawford took a hand and kicked him out. +Since then Dug has been one bitter enemy of the old man." + +"Then Crawford had better look out. If Doble isn't a killer, I've never +met one." + +"I've got a fool notion that he ain't aimin' to kill him; that maybe he +wants to help Steelman bust him so as he can turn the screws on him and +get Miss Joyce. Dug must 'a' been makin' money fast in Brad's company. +He's on the inside." + +Dave made no comment. + +"I expect you was some surprised when I told Dug who was roostin' on the +step so clost to him," Hart went on. "Well, I had a reason. He was due to +find it out anyhow in about a minute, so I thought I'd let him know we +wasn't tryin' to keep him from knowin' who his neighbor was; also that I +was good and ready for him if he got red-haided like Miller done." + +"I understood, Bob," said his friend quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +AN INVOLUNTARY BATH + + +Jackpot Number Three hooked its tools the second day after Sanders's +visit to that location. A few hours later its engine was thumping merrily +and the cable rising and falling monotonously in the casing. On the +afternoon of the third day Bob Hart rode up to the wildcat well where +Dave was building a sump hole with a gang of Mexicans. + +He drew Sanders to one side. "Trouble to-night, Dave, looks like. At +Jackpot Number Three. We're in a layer of soft shale just above the +oil-bearin' sand. Soon we'll know where we're at. Word has reached me +that Doble means to rush the night tower and wreck the engine." + +"You'll stand his crowd off?" + +"You're whistlin'." + +"Sure your information is right?" + +"It's c'rect." Bob added, after a momentary hesitation: "We got a spy in +his camp." + +Sanders did not ask whether the affair was to be a pitched battle. He +waited, sure that Bob would tell him when he was ready. That young man +came to the subject indirectly. + +"How's yore shoulder, Dave?" + +"Doesn't trouble me any unless something is slammed against it." + +"Interfere with you usin' a six-shooter?" + +"No." + +"Like to take a ride with me over to the Jackpot?" + +"Yes." + +"Good enough. I want you to look the ground over with me. Looks now as if +it would come to fireworks. But we don't want any Fourth-of-July stuff if +we can help it. Can we? That's the point." + +At the Jackpot the friends walked over the ground together. Back of the +location and to the west of it an arroyo ran from a cañon above. + +"Follow it down and it'll take you right into the location where Steelman +is drillin'," explained Bob. "Dug's gonna lead his gang up the arroyo to +the mesquite here, sneak down on us, and take our camp with a rush. At +least, that's what he aims to do. You can't always tell, as the fellow +says." + +"What's up above?" + +"A dam. Steelman owns the ground up there. He's got several acres of +water backed up there for irrigation purposes." + +"Let's go up and look it over." + +Bob showed a mild surprise. "Why, yes, if you want to take some exercise. +This is my busy day, but--" + +Sanders ignored the hint. He led the way up a stiff trail that took them +to the mouth of the cañon. Across the face of this a dam stretched. They +climbed to the top of it. The water rose to within about six feet from +the rim of the curved wall. + +"Some view," commented Bob with a grin, looking across the plains that +spread fanlike from the mouth of the gorge. "But I ain't much interested +in scenery to-day somehow." + +"When were you expectin' to shoot the well, Bob?" + +"Some time to-morrow. Don't know just when. Why?" + +"Got the nitro here yet?" + +"Brought it up this mo'nin' myself." + +"How much?" + +"Twelve quarts." + +"Any dynamite in camp?" + +"Yes. A dozen sticks, maybe." + +"And three gallons of nitro, you say." + +"Yep." + +"That's enough to do the job," Sanders said, as though talking aloud to +himself. + +"Yep. Tha's what we usually use." + +"I'm speaking of another job. Let's get down from here. We might be +seen." + +"They couldn't hit us from the Steelman location. Too far," said Bob. +"And I don't reckon any one would try to do that." + +"No, but they might get to wondering what we're doing up here." + +"I'm wonderin' that myself," drawled Hart. "Most generally when I take a +pasear it's on the back of a bronc. I ain't one of them that believes the +good Lord made human laigs to be walked on, not so long as any broomtails +are left to straddle." + +Screened by the heavy mesquite below, Sanders unfolded his proposed plan +of operations. Bob listened, and as Dave talked there came into Hart's +eyes dancing imps of deviltry. He gave a subdued whoop of delight, +slapped his dusty white hat on his thigh, and vented his enthusiasm in +murmurs of admiring profanity. + +"It may not work out," suggested his friend. "But if your information is +correct and they come up the arroyo--" + +"It's c'rect enough. Lemme ask you a question. If you was attacktin' us, +wouldn't you come that way?" + +"Yes." + +"Sure. It's the logical way. Dug figures to capture our camp without +firin' a shot. And he'd 'a' done it, too, if we hadn't had warnin'." + +Sanders frowned, his mind busy over the plan. "It ought to work, unless +something upsets it," he said. + +"Sure it'll work. You darned old fox, I never did see yore beat. Say, +if we pull this off right, Dug's gonna pretty near be laughed outa the +county." + +"Keep it quiet. Only three of us need to know it. You stay at the well to +keep Doble's gang back if we slip up. I'll give the signal, and the third +man will fire the fuse." + +"Buck Byington will be here pretty soon. I'll get him to set off the +Fourth-of-July celebration. He's a regular clam--won't ever say a word +about this." + +"When you hear her go off, you'd better bring the men down on the jump." + +Byington came up the road half an hour later at a cowpuncher's jog-trot. +He slid from the saddle and came forward chewing tobacco. His impassive, +leathery face expressed no emotion whatever. Carelessly and casually he +shook hands. "How, Dave?" + +"How, Buck?" answered Sanders. + +The old puncher had always liked Dave Sanders. The boy had begun work +on the range as a protégé of his. He had taught him how to read sign and +how to throw a rope. They had ridden out a blizzard together, and the +old-timer had cared for him like a father. The boy had repaid him with +a warm, ingenuous affection, an engaging sweetness of outward respect. +A certain fineness in the eager face had lingered as an inheritance from +his clean youth. No playful pup could have been more friendly. Now Buck +shook hands with a grim-faced man, one a thousand years old in bitter +experience. The eyes let no warmth escape. In the younger man's +consciousness rose the memory of a hundred kindnesses flowing from Buck +to him. Yet he could not let himself go. It was as though the prison +chill had encased his heart in ice which held his impulses fast. + +After dusk had fallen they made their preparations. The three men slipped +away from the bunkhouse into the chaparral. Bob carried a bulging +gunnysack, Dave a lantern, a pick, a drill, and a hammer. None of them +talked till they had reached the entrance to the cañon. + +"We'd better get busy before it's too dark," Bob said. "We picked this +spot, Buck. Suit you?" + +Byington had been a hard-rock Colorado miner in his youth. He examined +the dam and came back to the place chosen. After taking off his coat he +picked up the hammer. "Le's start. The sooner the quicker." + +Dave soaked the gunnysack in water and folded it over the top of the +drill to deaden the sound. Buck wielded the hammer and Bob held the +drill. + +After it grew dark they worked by the light of the lantern. Dave and Bob +relieved Buck at the hammer. They drilled two holes, put in the dynamite +charges, tamped them down, and filled in again the holes. The +nitroglycerine, too, was prepared and set for explosion. + +Hart straightened stiffly and looked at his watch. "Time to move back to +camp, Dave. Business may get brisk soon now. Maybe Dug may get in a hurry +and start things earlier than he intended." + +"Don't miss my signal, Buck. Two shots, one right after another," said +Dave. + +"I'll promise you to send back two shots a heap louder. You sure won't +miss 'em," answered Buck with a grin. + +The younger men left him at the dam and went back down the trail to their +camp. + +"No report yet from the lads watchin' the arroyo. I expect Dug's waitin' +till he thinks we're all asleep except the night tower," whispered the +man who had been left in charge by Hart. + +"Dave, you better relieve the boys at the arroyo," suggested Bob. +"Fireworks soon now, I expect." + +Sanders crept through the heavy chaparral to the liveoaks above the +arroyo, snaking his way among cactus and mesquite over the sand. A +watcher jumped up at his approach. Dave raised his hand and moved it +above his head from right to left. The guard disappeared in the darkness +toward the Jackpot. Presently his companion followed him. Dave was left +alone. + +It seemed to him that the multitudinous small voices of the night had +never been more active. A faint trickle of water came up from the bed of +the stream. He knew this was caused by leakage from the reservoir in the +gulch. A tiny rustle stirred the dry grass close to his hand. His peering +into the thick brush did not avail to tell him what form of animal life +was palpitating there. Far away a mocking-bird throbbed out a note or +two, grew quiet, and again became tunefully clamorous. A night owl +hooted. The sound of a soft footfall rolling a pebble brought him to taut +alertness. Eyes and ears became automatic detectives keyed to finest +service. + +A twig snapped in the arroyo. Indistinctly movements of blurred masses +were visible. The figure of a man detached itself from the gloom and +crept along the sandy wash. A second and a third took shape. The dry +bed became filled with vague motion. Sanders waited no longer. He crawled +back from the lip of the ravine a dozen yards, drew his revolver, and +fired twice. + +His guess had been that the attacking party, startled at the shots, would +hesitate and draw together for a whispered conference. This was exactly +what occurred. + +An explosion tore to shreds the stillness of the night. Before the first +had died away a second one boomed out. Dave heard a shower of falling +rock and concrete. He heard, too, a roar growing every moment in volume. +It swept down the walled gorge like a railroad train making up lost time. + +Sanders stepped forward. The gully, lately a wash of dry sand and baked +adobe, was full of a fury of rushing water. Above the noise of it he +caught the echo of a despairing scream. Swiftly he ran, dodging among the +catclaw and the prickly pear like a half-back carrying the ball through +a broken field. His objective was the place where the arroyo opened to +a draw. At this precise spot Steelman had located his derrick. + +The tower no longer tapered gauntly to the sky. The rush of waters +released from the dam had swept it from its foundation, torn apart the +timbers, and scattered them far and wide. With it had gone the wheel, +dragging from the casing the cable. The string of tools, jerked from +their socket, probably lay at the bottom of the well two thousand feet +down. + +Dave heard a groan. He moved toward the sound. A man lay on a sand +hummock, washed up by the tide. + +"Badly hurt?" asked Dave. + +"I've been drowned intirely, swallowed by a flood and knocked galley-west +for Sunday. I don't know yit am I dead or not. Mither o' Moses, phwat was +it hit us?" + +"The dam must have broke." + +"Was the Mississippi corked up in the dom cañon?" + +Bob bore down upon the scene at the head of the Jackpot contingent. He +gave a whoop at sight of the wrecked derrick and engine. "Kindlin' wood +and junk," was his verdict. "Where's Dug and his gang?" + +Dave relieved the half-drowned man of his revolver. "Here's one. The rest +must be either in the arroyo or out in the draw." + +"Scatter, boys, and find 'em. Look out for them if they're hurt. Collect +their hardware first off." + +The water by this time had subsided. Released from the walls of the +arroyo, it had spread over the desert. The supply in the reservoir was +probably exhausted, for the stream no longer poured down in a torrent. +Instead, it came in jets, weakly and with spent energy. + +Hart called. "Come here and meet an old friend, Dave." + +Sanders made his way, ankle deep in water, to the spot from which that +irrepressibly gay voice had come. He was still carrying the revolver he +had taken from the Irishman. + +"Meet Shorty, Dave. Don't mind his not risin' to shake. He's just been +wrastlin' with a waterspout and he's some wore out." + +The squat puncher glared at his tormentor. "I done bust my laig," he said +at last sullenly. + +He was wet to the skin. His lank, black hair fell in front of his tough, +unshaven face. One hand nursed the lacerated leg. The other was hooked by +the thumb into the band of his trousers. + +"That worries us a heap, Shorty," answered Hart callously. "I'd say you +got it comin' to you." + +The hand hitched in the trouser band moved slightly. Bob, aware too late +of the man's intention, reached for his six-shooter. Something flew past +him straight and hard. + +Shorty threw up his hands with a yelp and collapsed. He had been struck +in the head by a heavy revolver. + +"Some throwin', Dave. Much obliged," said Hart. "We'll disarm this bird +and pack him back to the derrick." They did. Shorty almost wept with rage +and pain and impotent malice. He cursed steadily and fluently. He might +as well have saved his breath, for his captors paid not the least +attention to his spleen. + +Weak as a drowned rat, Doble came limping out of the ravine. He sat down +on a timber, very sick at the stomach from too much water swallowed in +haste. After he had relieved himself, he looked up wanly and recognized +Hart, who was searching him for a hidden six-shooter. + +"Must 'a' lost yore forty-five whilst you was in swimmin', Dug. Was the +water good this evenin'? I'll bet you and yore lads pulled off a lot o' +fancy stunts when the water come down from Lodore or wherever they had it +corralled." Dancing imps of mischief lit the eyes of the ex-cowpuncher. +"Well, I'll bet the boys in town get a great laugh at yore comedy stuff. +You ce'tainly did a good turn. Oh, you've sure earned yore laugh." + +If hatred could have killed with a look Bob would have been a dead man. +"You blew up the dam," charged Doble. + +"Me! Why, it ain't my dam. Didn't Brad give you orders to open the +sluices to make you a swimmin' hole?" + +The searchers began to straggle in, bringing with them a sadly drenched +and battered lot of gunmen. Not one but looked as though he had been +through the wars. An inventory of wounds showed a sprained ankle, a +broken shoulder blade, a cut head, and various other minor wounds. Nearly +every member of Doble's army was exceedingly nauseated. The men sat down +or leaned up against the wreckage of the plant and drooped wretchedly. +There was not an ounce of fight left in any of them. + +"They must 'a' blew the dam up. Them shots we heard!" one ventured +without spirit. + +"Who blew it up?" demanded one of the Jackpot men belligerently. "If you +say we did, you're a liar." + +He was speaking the truth so far as he knew. The man who had been through +the waters did not take up the challenge. Officers in the army say that +men will not fight on an empty stomach, and his was very empty. + +"I'll remember this, Hart," Doble said, and his face was a thing ill to +look upon. The lips were drawn back so that his big teeth were bared like +tusks. The eyes were yellow with malignity. + +"Y'betcha! The boys'll look after that, Dug," retorted Bob lightly. +"Every time you hook yore heel over the bar rail at the Gusher, you'll +know they're laughin' at you up their sleeves. Sure, you'll remember +it." + +"Some day I'll make yore whole damned outfit sorry for this," the big +hook-nosed man threatened blackly. "No livin' man can laugh at me and get +away with it." + +"I'm laughin' at you, Dug. We all are. Wish you could see yoreself as we +see you. A little water takes a lot o' tuck outa some men who are feelin' +real biggity." + +Byington, at this moment, sauntered into the assembly. He looked around +in simulated surprise. "Must be bath night over at you-all's camp, Dug. +You look kinda drookid yore own self, as you might say." + +Doble swore savagely. He pointed with a shaking finger at Sanders, who +was standing silently in the background. "Tha's the man who's responsible +for this. Think I don't know? That jail bird! That convict! That killer!" +His voice trembled with fury. "You'd never a-thought of it in a thousand +years, Hart. Nor you, Buck, you old fathead. Wait. Tha's what I say. +Wait. It'll be me or him one day. Soon, too." + +The paroled man said nothing, but no words could have been more effective +than the silence of this lean, powerful man with the close-clamped jaw +whose hard eyes watched his enemy so steadily. He gave out an impression +of great vitality and reserve force. Even these hired thugs, dull and +unimaginative though they were, understood that he was dangerous beyond +most fighting men. A laugh snapped the tension. The Jackpot engineer +pointed to a figure emerging from the arroyo. The man who came dejectedly +into view was large and fat and dripping. He was weeping curses and +trying to pick cactus burrs from his anatomy. Dismal groans punctuated +his profanity. + +"It stranded me right on top of a big prickly pear," he complained. "I +like never to 'a' got off, and a million spines are stickin' into me." + +Bob whooped. "Look who's among us. If it ain't our old friend Ad Miller, +the human pincushion. Seein' as he drapped in, we'll collect him right +now and find out if the sheriff ain't lookin' for him to take a trip on +the choo-choo cars." + +The fat convict looked to Doble in vain for help. His friend was staring +at the ground sourly in a huge disgust at life and all that it contained. +Miller limped painfully to the Jackpot in front of Hart. Two days later +he took the train back to the penitentiary. Emerson Crawford made it a +point to see to that. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE LITTLE MOTHER FREES HER MIND + + +If some one had made Emerson Crawford a present of a carload of Herefords +he could not have been more pleased than he was at the result of the +Jackpot crew's night adventure with the Steelman forces. The news came +to him at an opportune moment, for he had just been served notice by the +president of the Malapi First National Bank that Crawford must prepare to +meet at once a call note for $10,000. A few hours earlier in the day the +cattleman had heard it rumored that Steelman had just bought a +controlling interest in the bank. He did not need a lawyer to tell him +that the second fact was responsible for the first. In fact the banker, +personally friendly to Crawford, had as good as told him so. + +Bob rode in with the story of the fracas in time to cheer the drooping +spirits of his employer. Emerson walked up and down the parlor waving his +cigar while Joyce laughed at him. + +"Dawggone my skin, if that don't beat my time! I'm settin' aside five +thousand shares in the Jackpot for Dave Sanders right now. Smartest trick +ever I did see." The justice of the Jackpot's vengeance on its rival and +the completeness of it came home to him as he strode the carpet. "He not +only saves my property without havin' to fight for it--and that was a +blamed good play itself, for I don't want you boys shootin' up anybody +even in self-defense--but he disarms Brad's plug-uglies, humiliates +them, makes them plumb sick of the job, and at the same time wipes out +Steelman's location lock, stock, and barrel. I'll make that ten thousand +shares, by gum! That boy's sure some stemwinder." + +"He uses his haid," admitted Bob admiringly. + +"I'd give my best pup to have been there," said the cattleman +regretfully. + +"It was some show," drawled the younger man. "Drowned rats was what they +reminded me of. Couldn't get a rise out of any of 'em except Dug. That +man's dangerous, if you ask me. He's crazy mad at all of us, but most +at Dave." + +"Will he hurt him?" asked Joyce quickly. + +"Can't tell. He'll try. That's a cinch." + +The dark brown eyes of the girl brooded. "That's not fair. We can't let +him run into more danger for us, Dad. He's had enough trouble already. We +must do something. Can't you send him to the Spring Valley Ranch?" + +"Meanin' Dug Doble?" asked Bob. + +She flashed a look of half-smiling, half-tender reproach at him. "You +know who I mean, Bob. And I'm not going to have him put in danger on our +account," she added with naïve dogmatism. + +"Joy's right. She's sure right," admitted Crawford. + +"Maybeso." Hart fell into his humorous drawl. "How do you aim to get +him to Spring Valley? You goin' to have him hawg-tied and shipped as +freight?" + +"I'll talk to him. I'll tell him he must go." Her resolute little face +was aglow and eager. "It's time Malapi was civilized. We mustn't give +these bad men provocation. It's better to avoid them." + +"Yes," admitted Bob dryly. "Well, you tell all that to Dave. Maybe he's +the kind o' lad that will pack up and light out because he's afraid of +Dug Doble and his outfit. Then again maybe he ain't." + +Crawford shook his head. He was a game man himself. He would go through +when the call came, and he knew quite well that Sanders would do the +same. Nor would any specious plea sidetrack him. At the same time there +was substantial justice in the contention of his daughter. Dave had no +business getting mixed up in this row. The fact that he was an ex-convict +would be in itself a damning thing in case the courts ever had to pass +upon the feud's results. The conviction on the records against him would +make a second conviction very much easier. + +"You're right, Bob. Dave won't let Dug's crowd run him out. But you keep +an eye on him. Don't let him go out alone nights. See he packs a gun." + +"Packs a gun!" Joyce was sitting in a rocking-chair under the glow of the +lamp. She was darning one of Keith's stockings, and to the young man +watching her--so wholly winsome girl, so much tender but business-like +little mother--she was the last word in the desirability of woman. +"That's the very way to find trouble, Dad. He's been doing his best to +keep out of it. He can't, if he stays here. So he must go away, that's +all there is to it." + +Her father laughed. "Ain't it scandalous the way she bosses us all +around, Bob?" + +The face of the girl sparkled to a humorous challenge. "Well, some one +has got to boss you-all boys, Dad. If you'd do as I say you wouldn't have +any trouble with that old Steelman or his gunmen." + +"We wouldn't have any oil wells either, would we, honey?" + +"They're not worth having if you and Dave Sanders and Bob have to live in +danger all the time," she flashed. + +"Glad you look at it that way, Joy," Emerson retorted with a rueful +smile. "Fact is, we ain't goin' to have any more oil wells than a +jackrabbit pretty soon. I'm at the end of my rope right now. The First +National promised me another loan on the Arizona ranch, but Brad has got +a-holt of it and he's called in my last loan. I'm not quittin'. I'll put +up a fight yet, but unless things break for me I'm about done." + +"Oh, Dad!" Her impulse of sympathy carried Joyce straight to him. Soft, +rounded arms went round his neck with impassioned tenderness. "I didn't +dream it was as bad as that. You've been worrying all this time and you +never let me know." + +He stroked her hair fondly. "You're the blamedest little mother ever I +did see--always was. Now don't you fret. It'll work out somehow. Things +do." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE HOLD-UP + + +To Sanders, working on afternoon tower at Jackpot Number Three, the lean, +tanned driller in charge of operations was wise with an uncanny knowledge +the newcomer could not fathom. For eight hours at a stretch he stood on +the platform and watched a greasy cable go slipping into the earth. Every +quiver of it, every motion of the big walking-beam, every kick of the +engine, told him what was taking place down that narrow pipe two thousand +feet below the surface. He knew when the tools were in clay and had +become gummed up. He could tell just when the drill had cut into hard +rock at an acute angle and was running out of the perpendicular to follow +the softer stratum. His judgment appeared infallible as to whether he +ought to send down a reamer to straighten the kink. All Dave knew was +that a string of tools far underground was jerking up and down +monotonously. + +This spelt romance to Jed Burns, superintendent of operations, though he +would never have admitted it. He was a bachelor; always would be one. +Hard-working, hard-drinking, at odd times a plunging gambler, he lived +for nothing but oil and the atmosphere of oil fields. From one boom +to another he drifted, as inevitably as the gamblers, grafters, and +organizers of "fake" companies. Several times he had made fortunes, but +it was impossible for him to stay rich. He was always ready to back a +drilling proposition that looked promising, and no independent speculator +can continue to wildcat without going broke. + +He was sifting sand through his fingers when Dave came on tower +the day after the flood. To Bob Hart, present as Crawford's personal +representative, he expressed an opinion. + +"Right soon now or never. Sand tastes, feels, looks, and smells like oil. +But you can't ever be sure. An oil prospect is like a woman. She will or +she won't, you never can tell which. Then, if she does, she's liable to +change her mind." + +Dave sniffed the pleasing, pungent odor of the crude oil sands. His +friend had told him that Crawford's fate hung in the balance. Unless oil +flowed very soon in paying quantities he was a ruined man. The control of +the Jackpot properties would probably pass into the hands of Steelman. +The cattleman would even lose the ranches which had been the substantial +basis of his earlier prosperity. + +Everybody working on the Jackpot felt the excitement as the drill began +to sink into the oil-bearing sands. Most of the men owned stock in the +company. Moreover, they were getting a bonus for their services and had +been promised an extra one if Number Three struck oil in paying +quantities before Steelman's crew did. Even to an outsider there is a +fascination in an oil well. It is as absorbing to the drillers as a +girl's mind is to her hopeful lover. Dave found it impossible to escape +the contagion of this. Moreover, he had ten thousand shares in the +Jackpot, stock turned over to him out of the treasury supply by the board +of directors in recognition of services which they did not care to +specify in the resolution which authorized the transfer. At first he had +refused to accept this, but Bob Hart had put the matter to him in such a +light that he changed his mind. + +"The oil business pays big for expert advice, no matter whether it's +legal or technical. What you did was worth fifty times what the board +voted you. If we make a big strike you've saved the company. If we don't +the stock's not worth a plugged nickel anyhow. You've earned what we +voted you. Hang on to it, Dave." + +Dave had thanked the board and put the stock in his pocket. Now he felt +himself drawn into the drama represented by the thumping engine which +continued day and night. + +After his shift was over, he rode to town with Bob behind his team of +wild broncos. + +"Got to look for an engineer for the night tower," Hart explained as he +drew up in front of the Gusher Saloon. "Come in with me. It's some +gambling-hell, if you ask me." + +The place hummed with the turbulent life that drifts to every wild +frontier on the boom. Faro dealers from the Klondike, poker dealers from +Nome, roulette croupiers from Leadville, were all here to reap the rich +harvest to be made from investors, field workers, and operators. Smooth +grafters with stock in worthless companies for sale circulated in and out +with blue-prints and whispered inside information. The men who were +ranged in front of the bar, behind which half a dozen attendants in white +aprons busily waited on their wants, usually talked oil and nothing but +oil. To-day they had another theme. The same subject engrossed the groups +scattered here and there throughout the large hall. + +In the rear of the room were the faro layouts, the roulette wheels, and +the poker players. Around each of these the shifting crowd surged. +Mexicans, Chinese, and even Indians brushed shoulders with white men of +many sorts and conditions. The white-faced professional gambler was in +evidence, winning the money of big brown men in miner's boots and +corduroys. The betting was wild and extravagant, for the spirit of the +speculator had carried away the cool judgment of most of these men. They +had seen a barber become a millionaire in a day because the company in +which he had plunged had struck a gusher. They had seen the same man +borrow five dollars three months later to carry him over until he got a +job. Riches were pouring out of the ground for the gambler who would take +a chance. Thrift was a much-discredited virtue in Malapi. The one +unforgivable vice was to be "a piker." + +Bob found his man at a faro table. While the cards were being shuffled, +he engaged him to come out next evening to the Jackpot properties. As +soon as the dealer began to slide the cards out of the case the attention +of the engineer went back to his bets. + +While Dave was standing close to the wall, ready to leave as soon as Bob +returned to him, he caught sight of an old acquaintance. Steve Russell +was playing stud poker at a table a few feet from him. The cowpuncher +looked up and waved his hand. + +"See you in a minute, Dave," he called, and as soon as the pot had been +won he said to the man shuffling the cards, "Deal me out this hand." + +He rose, stepped across to Sanders, and shook hands with a strong grip. +"You darned old son-of-a-gun! I'm sure glad to see you. Heard you was +back. Say, you've ce'tainly been goin' some. Suits me. I never did like +either Dug or Miller a whole lot. Dug's one sure-enough bad man and +Miller's a tinhorn would-be. What you did to both of 'em was a-plenty. +But keep yore eye peeled, old-timer. Miller's where he belongs again, +but Dug's still on the range, and you can bet he's seein' red these +days. He'll gun you if he gets half a chance." + +"Yes," said Dave evenly. + +"You don't figure to let yoreself get caught again without a +six-shooter." Steve put the statement with the rising inflection. + +"No." + +"Tha's right. Don't let him get the drop on you. He's sudden death with +a gun." + +Bob joined them. After a moment's conversation Russell drew them to a +corner of the room that for the moment was almost deserted. + +"Say, you heard the news, Bob?" + +"I can tell you that better after I know what it is," returned Hart with +a grin. + +"The stage was held up at Cottonwood Bend and robbed of seventeen +thousand dollars. The driver was killed." + +"When?" + +"This mo'nin'. They tried to keep it quiet, but it leaked out." + +"Whose money was it?" + +"Brad Steelman's pay roll and a shipment of gold for the bank." + +"Any idea who did it?" + +Steve showed embarrassment. "Why, no, _I_ ain't, if that's what you +mean." + +"Well, anybody else?" + +"Tha's what I wanta tell you. Two men were in the job. They're whisperin' +that Em Crawford was one." + +"Crawford! Some of Steelman's fine work in that rumor, I'll bet. He's +crazy if he thinks he can get away with that. Tha's plumb foolish talk. +What evidence does he claim?" demanded Hart. + +"Em deposited ten thousand with the First National to pay off a note he +owed the bank. Rode into town right straight to the bank two hours after +the stage got in. Then, too, seems one of the hold-ups called the other +one Crawford." + +"A plant," said Dave promptly. + +"Looks like." Bob's voice was rich with sarcasm. "I don't reckon the +other one rose up on his hind laigs and said, 'I'm Bob Hart,' did he?" + +"They claim the second man was Dave here." + +"Hmp! What time d'you say this hold-up took place?" + +"Must 'a' been about eleven." + +"Lets Dave out. He was fifteen miles away, and we can prove it by at +least six witnesses." + +"Good. I reckon Em can put in an alibi too." + +"I'll bet he can." Hart promised this with conviction. + +"Trouble is they say they've got witnesses to show Em was travelin' +toward the Bend half an hour before the hold-up. Art Johnson and Clem +Purdy met him while they was on their way to town." + +"Was Crawford alone?" + +"He was then. Yep." + +"Any one might'a' been there. You might. I might. That don't prove a +thing." + +"Hell, I know Em Crawford's not mixed up in any hold-up, let alone a +damned cowardly murder. You don't need to tell _me_ that. Point is that +evidence is pilin' up. Where did Em get the ten thousand to pay the bank? +Two days ago he was tryin' to increase the loan the First National had +made him." + +Dave spoke. "I don't know where he got it, but unless he's a born +fool--and nobody ever claimed that of Crawford--he wouldn't take the +money straight to the bank after he had held up the stage and killed +the driver. That's a strong point in his favor." + +"If he can show where he got the ten thousand," amended Russell. "And of +course he can." + +"And where he spent that two hours after the hold-up before he came to +town. That'll have to be explained too," said Bob. + +"Oh, Em he'll be able to explain that all right," decided Steve +cheerfully. + +"Where is Crawford now?" asked Dave. "He hasn't been arrested, has he?" + +"Not yet. But he's bein' watched. Soon as he showed up at the bank the +sheriff asked to look at his six-shooter. Two cartridges had been fired. +One of the passengers on the stage told me two shots was fired from a +six-gun by the boss hold-up. The second one killed old Tim Harrigan." + +"Did they accuse Crawford of the killing?" + +"Not directly. He was asked to explain. I ain't heard what his story +was." + +"We'd better go to his house and talk with him," suggested Hart. "Maybe +he can give as good an alibi as you, Dave." + +"You and I will go straight there," decided Sanders. "Steve, get three +saddle horses. We'll ride out to the Bend and see what we can learn on +the ground." + +"I'll cash my chips, get the broncs, and meet you lads at Crawford's," +said Russell promptly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +NUMBER THREE COMES IN + + +Joyce opened the door to the knock of the young men. At sight of them her +face lit. + +"Oh, I'm so glad you've come!" she cried, tears in her voice. She caught +her hands together in a convulsive little gesture. "Isn't it dreadful? +I've been afraid all the time that something awful would happen--and +now it has." + +"Don't you worry, Miss Joyce," Bob told her cheerfully. "We ain't gonna +let anything happen to yore paw. We aim to get busy right away and run +this thing down. Looks like a frame-up. If it is, you betcha we'll get +at the truth." + +"Will you? Can you?" She turned to Dave in appeal, eyes starlike in a +face that was a white and shining oval in the semi-darkness. + +"We'll try," he said simply. + +Something in the way he said it, in the quiet reticence of his promise, +sent courage flowing to her heart. She had called on him once before, and +he had answered splendidly and recklessly. + +"Where's Mr. Crawford?" asked Bob. + +"He's in the sitting-room. Come right in." + +Her father was sitting in a big chair, one leg thrown carelessly over the +arm. He was smoking a cigar composedly. + +"Come in, boys," he called. "Reckon you've heard that I'm a stage rustler +and a murderer." + +Joyce cried out at this, the wide, mobile mouth trembling. + +"Just now. At the Gusher," said Bob. "They didn't arrest you?" + +"Not yet. They're watchin' the house. Sit down, and I'll tell it to you." + +He had gone out to see a homesteader about doing some work for him. On +the way he had met Johnson and Purdy near the Bend, just before he had +turned up a draw leading to the place in the hills owned by the man whom +he wanted to see. Two hours had been spent riding to the little valley +where the nester had built his corrals and his log house, and when +Crawford arrived neither he nor his wife was at home. He returned to the +road, without having met a soul since he had left it, and from there +jogged on back to town. On the way he had fired twice at a rattlesnake. + +"You never reached the Bend, then, at all," said Dave. + +"No, but I cayn't prove I didn't." The old cattleman looked at the end of +his cigar thoughtfully. "Nor I cayn't prove I went out to Dick Grein's +place in that three-four hours not accounted for." + +"Anyhow, you can show where you got the ten thousand dollars you paid the +bank," said Bob hopefully. + +A moment of silence; then Crawford spoke. "No, son, I cayn't tell that +either." + +Faint and breathless with suspense, Joyce looked at her father with +dilated eyes. "Why not?" + +"Because the money was loaned me on those conditions." + +"But--but--don't you see, Dad?--if you don't tell that--" + +"They'll think I'm guilty. Well, I reckon they'll have to think it, Joy." +The steady gray eyes looked straight into the brown ones of the girl. +"I've been in this county boy and man for 'most fifty years. Any one +that's willin' to think me a cold-blooded murderer at this date, why, +he's welcome to hold any opinion he pleases. I don't give a damn what he +thinks." + +"But we've got to prove--" + +"No, we haven't. They've got to do the proving. The law holds me innocent +till I'm found guilty." + +"But you don't aim to keep still and let a lot of miscreants blacken yore +good name!" suggested Hart. + +"You bet I don't, Bob. But I reckon I'll not break my word to a friend +either, especially under the circumstances this money was loaned." + +"He'll release you when he understands," cried Joyce. + +"Don't bank on that, honey," Crawford said slowly. + +"You ain't to mention this. I'm tellin' you three private. He cayn't come +out and tell that he let me have the money. Understand? You don't any of +you know a thing about how I come by that ten thousand. I've refused to +answer questions about that money. That's my business." + +"Oh, but, Dad, you can't do that. You'll have to give an explanation. +You'll have to--" + +"The best explanation I can give, Joy, is to find out who held up the +stage and killed Tim Harrigan. It's the only one that will satisfy me. +It's the only one that will satisfy my friends." + +"That's true," said Sanders. + +"Steve Russell is bringin' hawsses," said Bob. "We'll ride out to the +Bend to-night and be ready for business there at the first streak of +light. Must be some trail left by the hold-ups." + +Crawford shook his head. "Probably not. Applegate had a posse out there +right away. You know Applegate. He'd blunder if he had a chance. His boys +have milled all over the place and destroyed any trail that was left." + +"We'll go out anyhow--Dave and Steve and I. Won't do any harm. We're +liable to discover something, don't you reckon?" + +"Maybeso. Who's that knockin' on the door, Joy?" + +Some one was rapping on the front door imperatively. The girl opened it, +to let into the hall a man in greasy overalls. + +"Where's Mr. Crawford?" he demanded excitedly. + +"Here. In the sitting-room. What's wrong?" + +"Wrong! Not a thing!" He talked as he followed Joyce to the door of the +room. "Except that Number Three's come in the biggest gusher ever I see. +She's knocked the whole superstructure galley-west an' she's rip-r'arin' +to beat the Dutch." + +Emerson Crawford leaped to his feet, for once visibly excited. "What?" he +demanded. "Wha's that?" + +"Jus' like I say. The oil's a-spoutin' up a hundred feet like a fan. +Before mornin' the sump holes will be full and she'll be runnin' all over +the prairie." + +"Burns sent you?" + +"Yep. Says for you to get men and teams and scrapers and gunnysacks and +heavy timbers out there right away. Many as you can send." + +Crawford turned to Bob, his face aglow. "Yore job, Bob. Spread the news. +Rustle up everybody you can get. Arrange with the railroad grade +contractor to let us have all his men, teams, and scrapers till we get +her hogtied and harnessed. Big wages and we'll feed the whole outfit +free. Hire anybody you can find. Buy a coupla hundred shovels and send +'em out to Number Three. Get Robinson to move his tent-restaurant out +there." + +Hart nodded. "What about this job at the Bend?" he asked in a low voice. + +"Dave and I'll attend to that. You hump on the Jackpot job. Sons, we're +rich, all three of us. Point is to keep from losin' that crude on the +prairie. Keep three shifts goin' till she's under control." + +"We can't do anything at the Bend till morning," said Dave. "We'd better +put the night in helping Bob." + +"Sure. We've got to get all Malapi busy. A dozen business men have got to +come down and open up their stores so's we can get supplies," agreed +Emerson. + +Joyce, her face flushed and eager, broke in. "Ring the fire bell. That's +the quickest way." + +"Sure enough. You got a haid on yore shoulders. Dave, you attend to that. +Bob, hit the dust for the big saloons and gather men. I'll see O'Connor +about the railroad outfit; then I'll come down to the fire-house and talk +to the crowd. We'll wake this old town up to-night, sons." + +"What about me?" asked the messenger. + +"You go back and tell Jed to hold the fort till Hart and his material +arrives." + +Outside, they met Russell riding down the road, two saddled horses +following. With a word of explanation they helped themselves to his +mounts while he stared after them in surprise. + +"I'll be dawggoned if they-all ain't three gents in a hurry," he murmured +to the breezes of the night. "Well, seein' as I been held up, I reckon +I'll have to walk back while the hawss-thieves ride." + +Five minutes later the fire-bell clanged out its call to Malapi. From +roadside tent and gambling-hall, from houses and camp-fires, men and +women poured into the streets. For Malapi was a shell-town, tightly +packed and inflammable, likely to go up in smoke whenever a fire should +get beyond control of the volunteer company. Almost in less time than it +takes to tell it, the square was packed with hundreds of lightly clad +people and other hundreds just emerging from the night life of the place. + +The clangor of the bell died away, but the firemen did not run out the +hose and bucket cart. The man tugging the rope had told them why he was +summoning the citizens. + +"Some one's got to go out and explain to the crowd," said the fire chief +to Dave. "If you know about this strike you'll have to tell the boys." + +"Crawford said he'd talk," answered Sanders. + +"He ain't here. It's up to you. Go ahead. Just tell 'em why you rang the +bell." + +Dave found himself pushed forward to the steps of the court-house a few +yards away. He had never before attempted to speak in public, and he had +a queer, dry tightening of the throat. But as soon as he began to talk +the words he wanted came easily enough. + +"Jackpot Number Three has come in a big gusher," he said, lifting his +voice so that it would carry to the edge of the crowd. + +Hundreds of men in the crowd owned stock in the Jackpot properties. At +Dave's words a roar went up into the night. Men shouted, danced, or +merely smiled, according to their temperament. Presently the thirst +for news dominated the enthusiasm. Gradually the uproar was stilled. + +Again Dave's voice rang out clear as the bell he had been tolling. "The +report is that it's one of the biggest strikes ever known in the State. +The derrick has been knocked to pieces and the oil's shooting into the +air a hundred feet." + +A second great shout drowned his words. This was an oil crowd. It dreamed +oil, talked oil, thought oil, prayed for oil. A stranger in the town was +likely to feel at first that the place was oil mad. What else can be said +of a town with derricks built through its front porches and even the +graveyard leased to a drilling company? + +"The sump holes are filling," went on Sanders. "Soon the oil will the +running to waste on the prairie. We need men, teams, tools, wagons, +hundreds of slickers, tents, beds, grub. The wages will be one-fifty a +day more than the run of wages in the camp until the emergency has been +met, and Emerson Crawford will board all the volunteers who come out to +dig." + +The speaker was lost again, this time in a buzz of voices of excited men. +But out of the hubbub Dave's shout became heard. + +"All owners of teams and tools, all dealers in hardware and groceries, +are asked to step to the right-hand side of the crowd for a talk with Mr. +Crawford. Men willing to work till the gusher is under control, please +meet Bob Hart in front of the fire-house. I'll see any cooks and +restaurant-men alive to a chance to make money fast. Right here at the +steps." + +"Good medicine, son," boomed Emerson Crawford, slapping him on the +shoulder. "Didn't know you was an orator, but you sure got this crowd +goin'. Bob here yet?" + +"Yes. I saw him a minute ago in the crowd. Sorry I had to make promises +for you, but the fire chief wouldn't let me keep the crowd waiting. Some +one had to talk." + +"Suits me. I'll run you for Congress one o' these days." Then, "I'll send +the grocery-men over to you. Tell them to get the grub out to-night. If +the restaurant-men don't buy it I'll run my own chuck wagon outfit. See +you later, Dave." + +For the next twenty-four hours there was no night in Malapi. Streets were +filled with shoutings, hurried footfalls, the creaking of wagons, and the +thud of galloping horses. Stores were lit up and filled with buyers. For +once the Gusher and the Oil Pool and other resorts held small attraction +for the crowds. The town was moving out to see the big new discovery that +was to revolutionize its fortunes with the opening of a new and +tremendously rich field. Every ancient rig available was pressed into +service to haul men or supplies out to the Jackpot location. Scarcely a +minute passed, after the time that the first team took the road, without +a loaded wagon, packed to the sideboards, moving along the dusty road +into the darkness of the desert. + +Three travelers on horseback rode in the opposite direction. Their +destination was Cottonwood Bend. Two of them were Emerson Crawford and +David Sanders. The third was an oil prospector who had been a passenger +on the stage when it was robbed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE GUSHER + + +Jackpot number three had come in with a roar that shook the earth for +half a mile. Deep below the surface there was a hiss and a crackle, the +shock of rending strata giving way to the pressure of the oil pool. From +long experience as a driller, Jed Burns knew what was coming. He swept +his crew back from the platform, and none too soon to escape disaster. +They were still flying across the prairie when the crown box catapulted +into the sky and the whole drilling superstructure toppled over. Rocks, +clay, and sand were hurled into the air, to come down in a shower that +bombarded everything within a radius of several hundred yards. + +The landscape next moment was drenched in black petroleum. The fine +particles of it filled the air, sprayed the cactus and the greasewood. +Rivulets of the viscid stuff began to gather in depressions and to flow +in gathering volume, as tributaries joined the stream, into the sump +holes prepared for it. The pungent odor of crude oil, as well as the +touch and the taste of it, penetrated the atmosphere. + +Burns counted noses and discovered that none of his crew had been injured +by falling rocks or beams. He knew that his men could not possibly cope +with this geyser on a spree. It was a big strike, the biggest in the +history of the district, and to control the flow of the gusher would +necessitate tremendous efforts on a wholesale plan. + +One of his men he sent in to Malapi on horseback with a hurry-up call to +Emerson Crawford, president of the company, for tools, machinery, men, +and teams. The others he put to salvaging the engine and accessories +and to throwing up an earth dike around the sump hole as a barrier +against the escaping crude. All through the night he fought impotently +against this giant that had burst loose from its prison two thousand feet +below the surface of the earth. + +With the first faint streaks of day men came galloping across the desert +to the Jackpot. They came at first on horseback, singly, and later by +twos and threes. A buckboard appeared on the horizon, the driver leaning +forward as he urged on his team. + +"Hart," decided the driller, "and comin' hell-for-leather." + +Other teams followed, buggies, surreys, light wagons, farm wagons, and +at last heavily laden lumber wagons. Business in Malapi was "shot to +pieces," as one merchant expressed it. Everybody who could possibly get +away was out to see the big gusher. + +There was an immediate stampede to make locations in the territory +adjacent. The wildcatter flourished. Companies were formed in ten minutes +and the stock subscribed for in half an hour. From the bootblack at +the hotel to the banker, everybody wanted stock in every company drilling +within a reasonable distance of Jackpot Number Three. Many legitimate +incorporations appeared on the books of the Secretary of State, and along +with these were scores of frauds intended only to gull the small investor +and separate him from his money. Saloons and gambling-houses, which did +business with such childlike candor and stridency, became offices for +the sale and exchange of stock. The boom at Malapi got its second wind. +Workmen, investors, capitalists, and crooks poured in to take advantage +of the inflation brought about by the new strike in a hitherto unknown +field. For the fame of Jackpot Number Three had spread wide. The +production guesses ranged all the way from ten to fifty thousand +barrels a day, most of which was still going to waste on the desert. + +For Burns and Hart had not yet gained control over the flow, though an +army of men in overalls and slickers fought the gusher night and day. The +flow never ceased for a moment. The well steadily spouted a stream of +black liquid into the air from the subterranean chamber into which the +underground lake poured. + +The attack had two objectives. The first was to check the outrush of oil. +The second was to save the wealth emerging from the mouth of the well and +streaming over the lip of the reservoir to the sandy desert. + +A crew of men, divided into three shifts, worked with pick, shovel, +and scraper to dig a second and a third sump hole. The dirt from the +excavation was dumped at the edge of the working to build a dam for the +fluid. Sacks filled with wet sand reinforced this dirt. + +Meanwhile the oil boiled up in the lake and flowed over its edges in +streams. As soon as the second reservoir was ready the tarry stuff was +siphoned into it from the original sump hole. By the time this was full a +third pool was finished, and into it the overflow was diverted. But in +spite of the great effort made to save the product of the gusher, the +sands absorbed many thousands of dollars' worth of petroleum. + +This end of the work was under the direction of Bob Hart. For ten days he +did not take off his clothes. When he slept it was in cat naps, an hour +snatched now and again from the fight with the rising tide of wealth +that threatened to engulf its owners. He was unshaven, unbathed, his +clothes slimy with tar and grease. He ate on the job--coffee, beans, +bacon, cornbread, whatever the cooks' flunkies brought him--and did not +know what he was eating. Gaunt and dominating, with crisp decision and +yet unfailing good-humor, he bossed the gangs under him and led them +into the fight, holding them at it till flesh and blood revolted with +weariness. Of such stuff is the true outdoor Westerner made. He may drop +in his tracks from exhaustion after the emergency has been met, but so +long as the call for action lasts he will stick to the finish. + +At the other end Jed Burns commanded. One after another he tried all the +devices he had known to succeed in capping or checking other gushers. The +flow was so continuous and powerful that none of these were effective. +Some wells flow in jets. They hurl out oil, die down like a geyser, and +presently have another hemorrhage. Jackpot Number Three did not pulse as +a cut artery does. Its output was steady as the flow of water in a pipe. +The heavy timbers with which he tried to stop up the outlet were hurled +aside like straws. He could not check the flow long enough to get +control. + +On the evening of the tenth day Burns put in the cork. He made elaborate +preparations in advance and assigned his force to the posts where they +were to work. A string of eight-inch pipe sixty feet long was slid +forward and derricked over the stream. Above this a large number of steel +rails, borrowed from the incoming road, were lashed to the pipe to +prevent it from snapping. The pipe had been fitted with valves of various +sizes. After it had been fastened to the well's casing, these were +gradually reduced to check the flow without causing a blowout in the pipe +line. + +Six hours later a metropolitan newspaper carried the headline: + +BIG GUSHER HARNESSED; +AFTER WILD RAMPAGE + +Jackpot No. 3 at Malapi Tamed +Long Battle Ended + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +SHORTY + + +It was a surprise to Dave to discover that the horse Steve had got for +him was his own old favorite Chiquito. The pinto knew him. He tested this +by putting him through some of his old tricks. The horse refused to dance +or play dead, but at the word of command his right foreleg came up to +shake hands. He nuzzled his silky nose against the coat of his master +just as in the days of old. + +Crawford rode a bay, larger than a bronco. The oil prospector was +astride a rangy roan. He was no horseman, but as a perpetual-motion +conversationalist the old wildcatter broke records. He was a short barrel +of a man, with small eyes set close together, and he made a figure of fun +perched high up in the saddle. But he permitted no difficulties of travel +to interfere with his monologue. + +"The boss hold-up wasn't no glad-hand artist," he explained. "He was a +sure-enough sulky devil, though o'course we couldn't see his face behind +the mask. Blue mask it was, made outa a bandanna handkerchief. Well, +rightaway I knew somethin' was liable to pop, for old Harrigan, scared to +death, kep' a-goin' just the same. Maybe he hadn't sense enough to stop, +as the fellow says. Maybe he didn't want to. Bang-bang! I reckon Tim was +dead before he hit the ground. They lined us up, but they didn't take a +thing except the gold and one Chicago fellow's watch. Then they cut the +harness and p'int for the hills." + +"How do you know they made for the hills?" asked Dave. + +"Well, they naturally would. Anyhow, they lit out round the Bend. I +hadn't lost 'em none, and I wasn't lookin' to see where they went. Not in +this year of our Lord. I'm right careless at times, but not enough so to +make inquiries of road agents when they're red from killin'. I been told +I got no terminal facilities of speech, but it's a fact I didn't chirp +from start to finish of the hold-up. I was plumb reticent." + +Light sifted into the sky. The riders saw the colors change in a desert +dawn. The hilltops below them were veiled in a silver-blue mist. Far away +Malapi rose out of the caldron, its cheapness for once touched to a +moment of beauty and significance. In that glorified sunrise it might +have been a jeweled city of dreams. + +The prospector's words flowed on. Crystal dawns might come and go, +succeeding mist scarfs of rose and lilac, but a great poet has said +that speech is silver. + +"No, sir. When a man has got the drop on me I don't aim to argue with +him. Not none. Tim Harrigan had notions. Different here. I've done some +rough-housin'. When a guy puts up his dukes I'm there. Onct down in +Sonora I slammed a fellow so hard he woke up among strangers. Fact. I +don't make claims, but up at Carbondale they say I'm some rip-snorter +when I get goin' good. I'm quiet. I don't go around with a chip on my +shoulder. It's the quiet boys you want to look out for. Am I right?" + +Crawford gave a little snort of laughter and covered it hastily with a +cough. + +"You know it," went on the quiet man who was a rip-snorter when he got +going. "In regards to that, I'll say my observation is that when you meet +a small man with a steady gray eye it don't do a bit of harm to spend +a lot of time leavin' him alone. He may be good-natured, but he won't +stand no devilin', take it from me." + +The small man with the gray eye eased himself in the saddle and moistened +his tongue for a fresh start. "But I'm not one o' these foolhardy idiots +who have to have wooden suits made for 'em because they don't know when +to stay mum. You cattlemen have lived a quiet life in the hills, but I've +been right where the tough ones crowd for years. I'll tell you there's a +time to talk and a time to keep still, as the old sayin' is." + +"Yes," agreed Crawford. + +"Another thing. I got an instinct that tells me when folks are interested +in what I say. I've seen talkers that went right on borin' people and +never caught on. They'd talk yore arm off without gettin' wise to it that +you'd had a-plenty. That kind of talker ain't fit for nothin' but to +wrangle Mary's little lamb 'way off from every human bein'." + +In front of the riders a group of cottonwoods lifted their branches at +a sharp bend in the road. Just before they reached this turn a bridge +crossed a dry irrigating lateral. + +"After Harrigan had been shot I came to the ditch for some water, but she +was dry as a whistle. Ever notice how things are that way? A fellow wants +water; none there. It's rainin' rivers; the ditch is runnin' strong. +There's a sermon for a preacher," said the prospector. + +The cattleman nodded to Dave. "I noticed she was dry when I crossed +higher up on my way out. But she was full up with water when I saw her +after I had been up to Dick Grein's." + +"Funny," commented Sanders. "Nobody would want water to irrigate at this +season. Who turned the water in? And why?" + +"Beats me," answered Crawford. "But it don't worry me any. I've got +troubles of my own." + +They reached the cottonwoods, and the oil prospector pointed out to them +just where the stage had been when the bandits first appeared. He showed +them the bushes from behind which the robbers had stepped, the place +occupied by the passengers after they had been lined up, and the course +taken by the hold-ups after the robbery. + +The road ran up a long, slow incline to the Bend, which was the crest of +the hill. Beyond it the wheel tracks went down again with a sharp dip. +The stage had been stopped just beyond the crest, just at the beginning +of the down grade. + +"The coach must have just started to move downhill when the robbers +jumped out from the bushes," suggested Dave. + +"Sure enough. That's probably howcome Tim to make a mistake. He figured +he could give the horses the whip and make a getaway. The hold-up saw +that. He had to shoot to kill or lose the gold. Bein' as he was a +cold-blooded killer he shot." There were pinpoints of light in Emerson +Crawford's eyes. He knew now the kind of man they were hunting. He was an +assassin of a deadly type, not a wild cowboy who had fired in excitement +because his nerves had betrayed him. + +"Yes. Tim knew what he was doing. He took a chance the hold-ups wouldn't +shoot to kill. Most of 'em won't. That was his mistake. If he'd seen the +face behind that mask he would have known better," said Dave. + +Crawford quartered over the ground. "Just like I thought, Dave. Applegate +and his posse have been here and stomped out any tracks the robbers left. +No way of tellin' which of all these footprints belonged to them. Likely +none of 'em. If I didn't know better I'd think some one had been givin' a +dance here, the way the ground is cut up." + +They made a wide circle to try to pick up the trail wanted, and again a +still larger one. Both of these attempts failed. + +"Looks to me like they flew away," the cattleman said at last. "Horses +have got hoofs and hoofs make tracks. I see plenty of these, but I don't +find any place where the animals waited while this thing was bein' +pulled off." + +"The sheriff's posse has milled over the whole ground so thoroughly we +can't be sure. But there's a point in what you say. Maybe they left their +horses farther up the hill and walked back to them," Dave hazarded. + +"No-o, son. This job was planned careful. Now the hold-ups didn't know +whether they'd have to make a quick getaway or not. They would have their +horses handy, but out of sight." + +"Why not in the dry ditch back of the cotton woods?" asked Dave with a +flash of light. + +Crawford stared at him, but at last shook his head, "I reckon not. In the +sand and clay there the hoofs would show too plain." + +"What if the hold-ups knew the ditch was going to be filled before the +pursuit got started?" + +"You mean--?" + +"I mean they might have arranged to have the water turned into the +lateral to wipe out their tracks." + +"I'll be dawged if you ain't on a warm trail, son," murmured Crawford. +"And if they knew that, why wouldn't they ride either up or down the +ditch and leave no tracks a-tall?" + +"They would--for a way, anyhow. Up or down, which?" + +"Down, so as to reach Malapi and get into the Gusher before word came of +the hold-up," guessed Crawford. + +"Up, because in the hills there's less chance of being seen," differed +Dave. "Crooks like them can fix up an alibi when they need one. They had +to get away unseen, in a hurry, and to get rid of the gold soon in case +they should be seen." + +"You've rung the bell, son. Up it is. It's an instinct of an outlaw to +make for the hills where he can hole up when in trouble." + +The prospector had been out of the conversation long enough. + +"Depends who did this," he said. "If they come from the town, they'd want +to get back there in a hurry. If not, they'd steer clear of folks. Onct, +when I was in Oklahoma, a nigger went into a house and shot a white man +he claimed owed him money. He made his getaway, looked like, and the +whole town hunted for him for fifty miles. They found him two days later +in the cellar of the man he had killed." + +"Well, you can go look in Tim Harrigan's cellar if you've a mind to. Dave +and I are goin' up the ditch," said the old cattleman, smiling. + +"I'll tag along, seein' as I've been drug in this far. All I'll say is +that when we get to the bottom of this, we'll find it was done by fellows +you'd never suspect. I know human nature. My guess is no drunken cowboy +pulled this off. No, sir. I'd look higher for the men." + +"How about Parson Brown and the school superintendent?" asked Crawford. + +"You can laugh. All right. Wait and see. Somehow I don't make mistakes. +I'm lucky that way. Use my judgment, I reckon. Anyhow, I always guess +right on presidential elections and prize fights. You got to know men, in +my line of business. I study 'em. Hardly ever peg 'em wrong. Fellow said +to me one day, 'How's it come, Thomas, you most always call the turn?' I +give him an answer in one word--psycho-ology." + +The trailers scanned closely the edge of the irrigation ditch. Here, too, +they failed to get results. There were tracks enough close to the +lateral, but apparently none of them led down into the bed of it. The +outlaws no doubt had carefully obliterated their tracks at this place +in order to give no starting-point for the pursuit. + +"I'll go up on the left-hand side, you take the right, Dave," said +Crawford. "We've got to find where they left the ditch." + +The prospector took the sandy bed of the dry canal as his path. He chose +it for two reasons. There was less brush to obstruct his progress, and he +could reach the ears of both his auditors better as he burbled his +comments on affairs in general and the wisdom of Mr. Thomas in +particular. + +The ditch was climbing into the hills, zigzagging up draws in order to +find the most even grade. The three men traveled slowly, for Sanders and +Crawford had to read sign on every foot of the way. + +"Chances are they didn't leave the ditch till they heard the water +comin'," the cattleman said. "These fellows knew their business, and they +were playin' safe." + +Dave pulled up. He went down on his knees and studied the ground, then +jumped down into the ditch and examined the bank. + +"Here's where they got out," he announced. + +Thomas pressed forward. With one outstretched hand the young man held him +back. + +"Just a minute. I want Mr. Crawford to see this before it's touched." + +The old cattleman examined the side of the canal. The clay showed where a +sharp hoof had reached for a footing, missed, and pawed down the bank. +Higher up was the faint mark of a shoe on the loose rubble at the edge. + +"Looks like," he assented. + +Study of the ground above showed the trail of two horses striking off at +a right angle from the ditch toward the mouth of a box cañon about a mile +distant. The horses were both larger than broncos. One of them was shod. +One of the front shoes, badly worn, was broken and part of it gone on the +left side. The riders were taking no pains apparently to hide their +course. No doubt they relied on the full ditch to blot out pursuit. + +The trail led through the cañon, over a divide beyond, and down into a +small grassy valley. + +At the summit Crawford gave strict orders. "No talkin', Mr. Thomas. This +is serious business now. We're in enemy country and have got to soft-foot +it." + +The foothills were bristling with chaparral. Behind any scrub oak or +cedar, under cover of an aspen thicket or even of a clump of gray sage, +an enemy with murder in his heart might be lurking. Here an ambush was +much more likely than in the sun-scorched plain they had left. + +The three men left the footpath where it dipped down into the park and +followed the rim to the left, passing through a heavy growth of manzanita +to a bare hill dotted with scrubby sage, at the other side of which was +a small gulch of aspens straggling down into the valley. Back of these a +log cabin squatted on the slope. One had to be almost upon it before it +could be seen. Its back door looked down upon the entrance to a cañon. +This was fenced across to make a corral. + +The cattleman and the cowpuncher looked at each other without verbal +comment. A message better not put into words flashed from one to the +other. This looked like the haunt of rustlers. Here they could pursue +their nefarious calling unmolested. Not once a year would anybody except +one of themselves enter this valley, and if a stranger did so he would +know better than to push his way into the cañon. + +Horses were drowsing sleepily in the corral. Dave slid from the saddle +and spoke to Crawford in a low voice. + +"I'm going down to have a look at those horses," he said, unfastening his +rope from the tientos. + +The cattleman nodded. He drew from its case beneath his leg a rifle and +held it across the pommel. It was not necessary for Sanders to ask, nor +for him to promise, protection while the younger man was making his trip +of inspection. Both were men who knew the frontier code and each other. +At a time of action speech, beyond the curtest of monosyllables, was +surplusage. + +Dave walked and slid down the rubble of the steep hillside, clambered +down a rough face of rock, and dropped into the corral: He wore a +revolver, but he did not draw it. He did not want to give anybody in the +house an excuse to shoot at him without warning. + +His glance swept over the horses, searched the hoofs of each. It found +one shod, a rangy roan gelding. + +The cowpuncher's rope whined through the air and settled down upon the +shoulders of the animal. The gelding went sun-fishing as a formal protest +against the lariat, then surrendered tamely. Dave patted it gently, +stroked the neck, and spoke softly reassuring words. He picked up one of +the front feet and examined the shoe. This was badly worn, and on the +left side part of it had broken off. + +A man came to the back door of the cabin and stretched in a long and +luxuriant yawn. Carelessly and casually his eyes wandered over the aspens +and into the corral. For a moment he stood frozen, his arms still flung +wide. + +From the aspens came down Crawford's voice, cool and ironic. "Much +obliged, Shorty. Leave 'em right up and save trouble." + +The squat cowpuncher's eyes moved back to the aspens and found there the +owner of the D Bar Lazy R. "Wha'dya want?" he growled sullenly. + +"You--just now. Step right out from the house, Shorty. Tha's right. +Anybody else in the house?" + +"No." + +"You'll be luckier if you tell the truth." + +"I'm tellin' it." + +"Hope so. Dave, step forward and get his six-shooter. Keep him between +you and the house. If anything happens to you I'm goin' to kill him right +now." + +Shorty shivered, hardy villain though he was. There had been nobody in +the house when he left it, but he had been expecting some one shortly. If +his partner arrived and began shooting, he knew that Crawford would drop +him in his tracks. His throat went dry as a lime kiln. He wanted to shout +out to the man who might be inside not to shoot at any cost. But he was a +game and loyal ruffian. He would not spoil his confederate's chance by +betraying him. If he said nothing, the man might come, realize the +situation, and slip away unobserved. + +Sanders took the man's gun and ran his hand over his thick body to make +sure he had no concealed weapon. + +"I'm going to back away. You come after me, step by step, so close I +could touch you with the gun," ordered Dave. + +The man followed him as directed, his hands still in the air. His captor +kept him in a line between him and the house door. Crawford rode down to +join them. The man who claimed not to be foolhardy stayed up in the +timber. This was no business of his. He did not want to be the target +of any shots from the cabin. + +The cattleman swung down from the saddle. "Sure we'll 'light and come in, +Shorty. No, you first. I'm right at yore heels with this gun pokin' into +yore ribs. Don't make any mistake. You'd never have time to explain it." + +The cabin had only one room. The bunks were over at one side, the stove +and table at the other. Two six-pane windows flanked the front door. + +The room was empty, except for the three men now entering. + +"You live here, Shorty?" asked Crawford curtly. + +"Yes." The answer was sulky and reluctant. + +"Alone?" + +"Yes." + +"Why?" snapped the cattleman. + +Shorty's defiant eyes met his. "My business." + +"Mine, too, I'll bet a dollar. If you're nestin' in these hills you +cayn't have but one business." + +"Prove it! Prove it!" retorted Shorty angrily. + +"Some day--not now." Crawford turned to Sanders. "What about the horse +you looked at, Dave?" + +"Same one we've been trailing. The one with the broken shoe." + +"That yore horse, Shorty?" + +"Maybeso. Maybe not." + +"You've been havin' company here lately," Crawford went on. "Who's yore +guest?" + +"You seem to be right now. You and yore friend the convict," sneered the +short cowpuncher. + +"Don't use that word again, Shorty," advised the ranchman in a voice +gently ominous. + +"Why not? True, ain't it? Doesn't deny it none, does he?" + +"We'll not discuss that. Where were you yesterday?" + +"Here, part o' the day. Where was you?" demanded Shorty impudently. +"Seems to me I heard you was right busy." + +"What part of the day? Begin at the beginnin' and tell us what you did. +You may put yore hands down." + +"Why, I got up in the mo'nin' and put on my pants an' my boots," jeered +Shorty. "I don't recolleck whether I put on my hat or not. Maybe I did. I +cooked breakfast and et it. I chawed tobacco. I cooked dinner and et it. +Smoked and chawed some more. Cooked supper and et it. Went to bed." + +"That all?" + +"Why, no, I fed the critters and fixed up a busted stirrup." + +"Who was with you?" + +"I was plumb lonesome yesterday. This any business of yours, by the way, +Em?" + +"Think again, Shorty. Who was with you?" + +The heavy-set cowpuncher helped himself to a chew of tobacco. "I told you +onct I was alone. Ain't seen anybody but you for a week." + +"Then how did you hear yesterday was my busy day?" Crawford thrust at +him. + +For a moment Shorty was taken aback. Before he could answer Dave spoke. + +"Man coming up from the creek." + +Crawford took crisp command. "Back in that corner, Shorty. Dave, you +stand back, too. Cover him soon as he shows up." + +Dave nodded. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MILLER TALKS + + +A man stood in the doorway, big, fat, swaggering. In his younger days his +deep chest and broad shoulders had accompanied great strength. But fat +had accumulated in layers. He was a mountain of sagging flesh. His breath +came in wheezy puffs. + +"Next time you get your own--" + +The voice faltered, died away. The protuberant eyes, still cold and +fishy, passed fearfully from one to another of those in the room. It was +plain that the bottom had dropped out of his heart. One moment he had +straddled the world a Colossus, the next he was collapsing like a +punctured balloon. + +"Goddlemighty!" he gasped. "Don't shoot! I--I give up." + +He was carrying a bucket of water. It dropped from his nerveless fingers +and spilt over the floor. + +Like a bullet out of a gun Crawford shot a question at him. "Where have +you hidden the money you got from the stage?" + +The loose mouth of the convict opened. "Why, we--I--we--" + +"Keep yore trap shut, you durn fool," ordered Shorty. + +Crawford jabbed his rifle into the ribs of the rustler. "Yours, too, +Shorty." + +But the damage had been done. Miller's flabby will had been braced by +a stronger one. He had been given time to recover from his dismay. He +moistened his lips with his tongue and framed his lie. + +"I was gonna say you must be mistaken, Mr. Crawford," he whined. + +Shorty laughed hardily, spat tobacco juice at a knot in the floor, and +spoke again. "Third degree stuff, eh? It won't buy you a thing, Crawford. +Miller wasn't in that hold-up any more'n I--" + +"Let Miller do his own talkin', Shorty. He don't need any lead from you." + +Shorty looked hard at the cattleman with unflinching eyes. "Don't get on +the peck, Em. You got no business coverin' me with that gun. I know you +got reasons a-plenty for tryin' to bluff us into sayin' we held up the +stage. But we don't bluff worth a cent. See?" + +Crawford saw. He had failed to surprise a confession out of Miller by the +narrowest of margins. If he had had time to get Shorty out of the room +before the convict's appearance, the fellow would have come through. As +it was, he had missed his opportunity. + +A head followed by a round barrel body came in cautiously from the +lean-to at the rear. + +"Everything all right, Mr. Crawford? Thought I'd drap on down to see if +you didn't need any help." + +"None, thanks, Mr. Thomas," the cattleman answered dryly. + +"Well, you never can tell." The prospector nodded genially to Shorty, +then spoke again to the man with the rifle. "Found any clue to the +hold-up yet?" + +"We've found the men who did it," replied Crawford. + +"Knew 'em all the time, I reckon," scoffed Shorty with a harsh laugh. + +Dave drew his chief aside, still keeping a vigilant eye on the prisoners. +"We've got to play our hand different. Shorty is game. He can't be +bluffed. But Miller can. I found out years ago he squeals at physical +pain. We'll start for home. After a while we'll give Shorty a chance to +make a getaway. Then we'll turn the screws on Miller." + +"All right, Dave. You run it. I'll back yore play," his friend said. + +They disarmed Miller, made him saddle two of the horses in the corral, +and took the back trail across the valley to the divide. It was here they +gave Shorty his chance of escape. Miller was leading the way up the +trail, with Crawford, Thomas, Shorty, and Dave in the order named. Dave +rode forward to confer with the owner of the D Bar Lazy R. For three +seconds his back was turned to the squat cowpuncher. + +Shorty whirled his horse and flung it wildly down the precipitous slope. +Sanders galloped after him, fired his revolver three times, and after a +short chase gave up the pursuit. He rode back to the party on the summit. + +Crawford glanced around at the heavy chaparral. "How about off here a +bit, Dave?" + +The younger man agreed. He turned to Miller. "We're going to hang you," +he said quietly. + +The pasty color of the fat man ebbed till his face seemed entirely +bloodless. "My God! You wouldn't do that!" he moaned. + +He clung feebly to the horn of his saddle as Sanders led the horse into +the brush. He whimpered, snuffling an appeal for mercy repeated over and +over. The party had not left the road a hundred yards behind when a man +jogged past on his way into the valley. He did not see them, nor did they +see him. + +Underneath a rather scrubby cedar Dave drew up. He glanced it over +critically. "Think it'll do?" he asked Crawford in a voice the prisoner +could just hear. + +"Yep. That big limb'll hold him," the old cattleman answered in the same +low voice. "Better let him stay right on the horse, then we'll lead it +out from under him." + +Miller pleaded for his life abjectly. His blood had turned to water. +"Honest, I didn't shoot Harrigan. Why, I'm that tender-hearted I wouldn't +hurt a kitten. I--I--Oh, don't do that, for God's sake." + +Thomas was almost as white as the outlaw. "You don't aim to--you +wouldn't--" + +Crawford's face was as cold and as hard as steel. "Why not? He's a +murderer. He tried to gun Dave here when the boy didn't have a +six-shooter. We'll jes' get rid of him now." He threw a rope over the +convict's head and adjusted it to the folds of his fat throat. + +The man under condemnation could hardly speak. His throat was dry as the +desert dust below. "I--I done Mr. Sanders a meanness. I'm sorry. I was +drunk." + +"You lied about him and sent him to the penitentiary." + +"I'll fix that. Lemme go an' I'll make that right." + +"How will you make it right?" asked Crawford grimly, and the weight of +his arm drew the rope so tight that Miller winced. "Can you give him back +the years he's lost?" + +"No, sir, no," the man whispered eagerly. "But I can tell how it +was--that we fired first at him. Doble did that, an' then--accidental--I +killed Doble whilst I was shootin' at Mr. Sanders." + +Dave strode forward, his eyes like great live coals. "What? Say that +again!" he cried. + +"Yessir. I did it--accidental--when Doble run forward in front of me. +Tha's right. I'm plumb sorry I didn't tell the cou't so when you was on +trial, Mr. Sanders. I reckon I was scairt to." + +"Will you tell this of yore own free will to the sheriff down at Malapi?" +asked Crawford. + +"I sure will. Yessir, Mr. Crawford." The man's terror had swept away all +thought of anything but the present peril. His color was a seasick green. +His great body trembled like a jelly shaken from a mould. + +"It's too late now," cut in Dave savagely. "We came up about this stage +robbery. Unless he'll clear that up, I vote to finish the job." + +"Maybe we'd better," agreed the cattleman. "I'll tie the rope to the +trunk of the tree and you lead the horse from under him, Dave." + +Miller broke down. He groveled. "I'll tell. I'll tell all I know. Dug +Doble and Shorty held up the stage. I don' know who killed the driver. +They didn't say when they come back." + +"You let the water into the ditch," suggested Crawford. + +"Yessir. I did that. They was shelterin' me and o' course I had to do +like they said." + +"When did you escape?" + +"On the way back to the penitentiary. A fellow give the deputy sheriff +a drink on the train. It was doped. We had that fixed. The keys to the +handcuffs was in the deputy's pocket. When he went to sleep we unlocked +the cuffs and I got off at the next depot. Horses was waitin' there for +us." + +"Who do you mean by us? Who was with you?" + +"I don' know who he was. Fellow said Brad Steelman sent him to fix things +up for me." + +Thomas borrowed the field-glasses of Crawford. Presently he lowered them. +"Two fellows comin' hell-for-leather across the valley," he said in a +voice that expressed his fears. + +The cattleman took the glasses and looked. "Shorty's found a friend. Dug +Doble likely. They're carryin' rifles. We'll have trouble. They'll see we +stopped at the haid of the pass," he said quietly. + +Much shaken already, the oil prospector collapsed at the prospect before +him. He was a man of peace and always had been, in spite of the valiant +promise of his tongue. + +"None of my funeral," he said, his lips white. "I'm hittin' the trail for +Malapi right now." + +He wheeled his horse and jumped it to a gallop. The roan plunged through +the chaparral and soon was out of sight. + +"We'll fix Mr. Miller so he won't make us any trouble during the rookus," +Crawford told Dave. + +He threw the coiled rope over the heaviest branch of the cedar, drew it +tight, and fastened it to the trunk of the tree. + +"Now you'll stay hitched," he went on, speaking to their prisoner. "And +you'd better hold that horse mighty steady, because if he jumps from +under you it'll be good-bye for one scalawag." + +"If you'd let me down I'd do like you told me, Mr. Crawford," pleaded +Miller. "It's right uncomfortable here." + +"Keep still. Don't say a word. Yore friends are gettin' close. Let a +chirp outa you, and you'll never have time to be sorry," warned the +cattleman. + +The two men tied their horses behind some heavy mesquite and chose their +own cover. Here they crouched down and waited. + +They could hear the horses of the outlaws climbing the hill out of the +valley to the pass. Then, down in the cañon, they caught a glimpse of +Thomas in wild flight. The bandits stopped at the divide. + +"They'll be headin' this way in a minute," Crawford whispered. + +His companion nodded agreement. + +They were wrong. There came the sound of a whoop, a sudden clatter of +hoofs, the diminishing beat of horses' feet. + +"They've seen Thomas, and they're after him on the jump," suggested Dave. + +His friend's eyes crinkled to a smile. "Sure enough. They figure he's the +tail end of our party. Well, I'll bet Thomas gives 'em a good run for +their money. He's right careless sometimes, but he's no foolhardy idiot +and he don't aim to argue with birds like these even though he's a +rip-snorter when he gets goin' good and won't stand any devilin'." + +"He'll talk them to death if they catch him," Dave answered. + +"Back to business. What's our next move, son?" + +"Some more conversation with Miller. Probably he can tell us where the +gold is hidden." + +"Whoopee! I'll bet he can. You do the talkin'. I've a notion he's more +scared of you." + +The fat convict tried to make a stand against them. He pleaded ignorance. +"I don' know where they hid the stuff. They didn't tell me." + +"Sounds reasonable, and you in with them on the deal," said Sanders. +"Well, you're in hard luck. We don't give two hoots for you, anyhow, but +we decided to take you in to town with us if you came through clean. +If not--" He shrugged his shoulders and glanced up at the branch above. + +Miller swallowed a lump in his throat. "You wouldn't treat me thataway, +Mr. Sanders. I'm gittin' to be an old man now. I done wrong, but I'm sure +right sorry," he whimpered. + +The eyes of the man who had spent years in prison at Cañon City were hard +as jade. The fat man read a day of judgment in his stern and somber face. + +"I'll tell!" The crook broke down, clammy beads of perspiration all over +his pallid face. "I'll tell you right where it's at. In the lean-to of +the shack. Southwest corner. Buried in a gunnysack." + +They rode back across the valley to the cabin. Miller pointed out the +spot where the stolen treasure was cached. With an old axe as a spade +Dave dug away the dirt till he came to a bit of sacking. Crawford scooped +out the loose earth with his gauntlet and dragged out a gunnysack. Inside +it were a number of canvas bags showing the broken wax seals of the +express company. These contained gold pieces apparently fresh from the +mint. + +A hurried sum in arithmetic showed that approximately all the gold taken +from the stage must be here. Dave packed it on the back of his saddle +while Crawford penciled a note to leave in the cache in place of the +money. + +The note said: + +This is no safe place to leave seventeen thousand dollars, Dug. I'm +taking it to town to put in the bank. If you want to make inquiries about +it, come in and we'll talk it over, you and me _and Applegate_. + +EMERSON CRAWFORD + +Five minutes later the three men were once more riding rapidly across the +valley toward the summit of the divide. The loop of Crawford's lariat +still encircled the gross neck of the convict. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +DAVE ACCEPTS AN INVITATION + + +Crawford and Dave, with their prisoner, lay out in the chaparral for an +hour, then made their way back to Malapi by a wide circuit. They did not +want to meet Shorty and Doble, for that would result in a pitched battle. +They preferred rather to make a report to the sheriff and let him attempt +the arrest of the bandits. + +Reluctantly, under the pressure of much prodding, Miller repeated his +story to Sheriff Applegate. Under the circumstances he was not sorry that +he was to be returned to the penitentiary, for he recognized that his +life at large would not be safe so long as Shorty and Doble were ranging +the hills. Both of them were "bad men," in the usual Western acceptance +of the term, and an accomplice who betrayed them would meet short shrift +at their hands. + +The sheriff gave Crawford a receipt for the gold after they had counted +it and found none missing. + +The old cattleman rose from the table and reached for his hat. + +"Come on, son," he said to Dave. "I'll say we've done a good day's work. +Both of us were under a cloud. Now we're clear. We're goin' up to the +house to have some supper. Applegate, you'll get both of the confessions +of Miller fixed up, won't you? I'll want the one about George Doble's +death to take with me to the Governor of Colorado. I'm takin' the train +to-morrow." + +"I'll have the district attorney fix up the papers," the sheriff +promised. + +Emerson Crawford hooked an arm under the elbow of Sanders and left the +office. + +"I'm wonderin' about one thing, boy," he said. "Did Miller kill George +Doble accidentally or on purpose?" + +"I'm wondering about that myself. You remember that Denver bartender said +they had been quarreling a good deal. They were having a row at the very +time when I met them at the gate of the corral. It's a ten-to-one shot +that Miller took the chance to plug Doble and make me pay for it." + +"Looks likely, but we'll never know. Son, you've had a rotten deal handed +you." + +The younger man's eyes were hard as steel. He clamped his jaw tight, but +he made no comment. + +"Nobody can give you back the years of yore life you've lost," the +cattleman went on. "But we'll get yore record straightened out, anyhow, +so that won't stand against you. I know one li'l' girl will be tickled to +hear the news. Joy always has stuck out that you were treated shameful." + +"I reckon I'll not go up to your house to-night," Dave said in a +carefully modulated voice. "I'm dirty and unshaven, and anyhow I'd rather +not go to-night." + +Crawford refused to accept this excuse. "No, sir. You're comin' with me, +by gum! I got soap and water and a razor up at the house, if that's +what's troublin' you. We've had a big day and I'm goin' to celebrate by +talkin' it all over again. Dad gum my hide, think of it, you solemn-faced +old owl! This time last night I was 'most a pauper and you sure were. +Both of us were under the charge of havin' killed a man each. To-night +we're rich as that fellow Crocus; anyhow I am, an' you're haided that +way. And both of us have cleared our names to boot. Ain't you got any red +blood in that big body of yore's?" + +"I'll drop in to the Delmonico and get a bite, then ride out to the +Jackpot." + +"You will not!" protested the cattleman. "Looky here, Dave. It's a +showdown. Have you got anything against me?" + +Dave met him eye to eye. "Not a thing, Mr. Crawford. No man ever had a +better friend." + +"Anything against Joyce?" + +"No, sir." + +"Don't hate my boy Keith, do you?" + +"How could I?" + +"Then what in hell ails you? You're not parlor-shy, are you? Say the +word, and we'll eat in the kitchen," grinned Crawford. + +"I'm not a society man," said Sanders lamely. + +He could not explain that the shadow of the prison walls was a barrier he +could not cross; that they rose to bar him from all the joy and happiness +of young life. + +"Who in Mexico's talkin' about society? I said come up and eat supper +with me and Joy and Keith. If you don't come, I'm goin' to be good and +sore. I'll not stand for it, you darned old killjoy." + +"I'll go," answered the invited man. + +He went, not because he wanted to go, but because he could not escape +without being an ungracious boor. + +Joyce flew to meet her father, eyes eager, hands swift to caress his +rough face and wrinkled coat. She bubbled with joy at his return, and +when he told her that his news was of the best the long lashes of the +brown eyes misted with tears. The young man in the background was struck +anew by the matronly tenderness of her relation to her father. She +hovered about him as a mother does about her son returned from the wars. + +"I've brought company for supper, honey," Emerson told her. + +She gave Dave her hand, flushed and smiling. "I've been so worried," she +explained. "It's fine to know the news is good. I'll want to hear it +all." + +"We've got the stolen money back, Joy," exploded her father. "We know who +took it--Dug Doble and that cowboy Shorty and Miller." + +"But I thought Miller--" + +"He escaped. We caught him and brought him back to town with us." +Crawford seized the girl by the shoulders. He was as keen as a boy to +share his pleasure. "And Joy--better news yet. Miller confessed he +killed George Doble. Dave didn't do it at all." + +Joyce came to the young man impulsively, hand outstretched. She was +glowing with delight, eyes kind and warm and glad. "That's the best yet. +Oh, Mr. Sanders, isn't it good?" + +His impassive face gave no betrayal of any happiness he might feel in his +vindication. Indeed, something almost sardonic in its expression chilled +her enthusiasm. More than the passing of years separated them from the +days when he had shyly but gayly wiped dishes for her in the kitchen, +when he had worshiped her with a boy's uncritical adoration. + +Sanders knew it better than she, and cursed the habit of repression that +had become a part of him in his prison days. He wanted to give her happy +smile for smile. But he could not do it. All that was young and ardent +and eager in him was dead. He could not let himself go. Even when +emotions flooded his heart, no evidence of it reached his chill eyes and +set face. + +After he had come back from shaving, he watched her flit about the room +while she set the table. She was the competent young mistress of the +house. With grave young authority she moved, slenderly graceful. He +knew her mind was with the cook in the kitchen, but she found time to +order Keith crisply to wash his face and hands, time to gather flowers +for the center of the table from the front yard and to keep up a running +fire of talk with him and her father. More of the woman than in the days +when he had known her, perhaps less of the carefree maiden, she was +essentially unchanged, was what he might confidently have expected her to +be. Emerson Crawford was the same bluff, hearty Westerner, a friend to +tie to in sunshine and in storm. Even little Keith, just escaping from +his baby ways, had the same tricks and mannerisms. Nothing was different +except himself. He had become arid and hard and bitter, he told himself +regretfully. + +Keith was his slave, a faithful admirer whose eyes fed upon his hero +steadily. He had heard the story of this young man's deeds discussed +until Dave had come to take on almost mythical proportions. + +He asked a question in an awed voice. "How did you get this Miller to +confess?" + +The guest exchanged a glance with the host. "We had a talk with him." + +"Did you--?" + +"Oh, no! We just asked him if he didn't want to tell us all about it, and +it seems he did." + +"Maybe you touched his better feelin's," suggested Keith, with memories +of an hour in Sunday School when his teacher had made a vain appeal to +his. + +His father laughed. "Maybe we did. I noticed he was near blubberin'. I +expect it's 'Adios, Señor Miller.' He's got two years more to serve, and +after that he'll have another nice long term to serve for robbin' the +stage. All I wish is we'd done the job more thorough and sent some +friends of his along with him. Well, that's up to Applegate." + +"I'm glad it is," said Joyce emphatically. + +"Any news to-day from Jackpot Number Three?" asked the president of that +company. + +"Bob Hart sent in to get some supplies and had a note left for me at the +post-office," Miss Joyce mentioned, a trifle annoyed at herself because a +blush insisted on flowing into her cheeks. "He says it's the biggest +thing he ever saw, but it's going to be awf'ly hard to control. Where +_is_ that note? I must have put it somewhere." + +Emerson's eyes flickered mischief. "Oh, well, never mind about the note. +That's private property, I reckon." + +"I'm sure if I can find it--" + +"I'll bet my boots you cayn't, though," he teased. + +"Dad! What will Mr. Sanders think? You know that's nonsense. Bob wrote +because I asked him to let me know." + +"Sure. Why wouldn't the secretary and field superintendent of the Jackpot +Company keep the daughter of the president informed? I'll have it read +into the minutes of our next board meetin' that it's in his duties to +keep you posted." + +"Oh, well, if you want to talk foolishness," she pouted. + +"There's somethin' else I'm goin' to have put into the minutes of the +next meetin', Dave," Crawford went on. "And that's yore election as +treasurer of the company. I want officers around me that I can trust, +son." + +"I don't know anything about finance or about bookkeeping," Dave said. + +"You'll learn. We'll have a bookkeeper, of course. I want some one for +treasurer that's level-haided and knows how to make a quick turn when he +has to, some one that uses the gray stuff in his cocoanut. We'll fix a +salary when we get goin'. You and Bob are goin' to have the active +management of this concern. Cattle's my line, an' I aim to stick to it. +Him and you can talk it over and fix yore duties so's they won't +conflict. Burns, of course, will run the actual drillin'. He's an A1 +man. Don't let him go." + +Dave was profoundly touched. No man could be kinder to his own son, could +show more confidence in him, than Emerson Crawford was to one who had no +claims upon him. + +He murmured a dry "Thank you"; then, feeling this to be inadequate, +added, "I'll try to see you don't regret this." + +The cattleman was a shrewd judge of men. His action now was not based +solely upon humanitarian motives. Here was a keen man, quick-witted, +steady, and wholly to be trusted, one certain to push himself to the +front. It was good business to make it worth his while to stick to +Crawford's enterprises. He said as much to Dave bluntly. + +"And you ain't in for any easy time either," he added. "We've got oil. +We're flooded with it, so I hear. Seve-re-al thousand dollars' worth a +day is runnin' off and seepin' into the desert. Bob Hart and Jed Burns +have got the job of puttin' the lid on the pot, but when they do that +you've got a bigger job. Looks bigger to me, anyhow. You've got to get +rid of that oil--find a market for it, sell it, ship it away to make room +for more. Get busy, son." Crawford waved his hand after the manner of one +who has shifted a responsibility and does not expect to worry about it. +"Moreover an' likewise, we're shy of money to keep operatin' until we can +sell the stuff. You'll have to raise scads of mazuma, son. In this oil +game dollars sure have got wings. No matter how tight yore pockets are +buttoned, they fly right out." + +"I doubt whether you've chosen the right man," the ex-cowpuncher said, +smiling faintly. "The most I ever borrowed in my life was twenty-five +dollars." + +"You borrow twenty-five thousand the same way, only it's easier if the +luck's breakin' right," the cattleman assured him cheerfully. "The +easiest thing in the world to get hold of is money--when you've already +got lots of it." + +"The trouble is we haven't." + +"Well, you'll have to learn to look like you knew where it grew on +bushes," Emerson told him, grinning. + +"I can see you've chosen me for a nice lazy job." + +"Anything but that, son. You don't want to make any mistake about this +thing. Brad Steelman's goin' to fight like a son-of-a-gun. He'll strike +at our credit and at our market and at our means of transportation. He'll +fight twenty-four hours of the day, and he's the slickest, crookedest +gray wolf that ever skulked over the range." + +The foreman of the D Bar Lazy R came in after supper for a conference +with his boss. He and Crawford got their heads together in the +sitting-room and the young people gravitated out to the porch. Joyce +pressed Dave into service to help her water the roses, and Keith hung +around in order to be near Dave. Occasionally he asked questions +irrelevant to the conversation. These were embarrassing or not as it +happened. + +Joyce delivered a little lecture on the culture of roses, not because she +considered herself an authority, but because her guest's conversation was +mostly of the monosyllabic order. He was not awkward or self-conscious; +rather a man given to silence. + +"Say, Mr. Sanders, how does it feel to be wounded?" Keith blurted out. + +"You mustn't ask personal questions, Keith," his sister told him. + +"Oh! Well, I already ast this one?" the boy suggested ingenuously. + +"Don't know, Keith," answered the young man. "I never was really wounded. +If you mean this scratch in the shoulder, I hardly felt it at all till +afterward." + +"Golly! I'll bet I wouldn't tackle a feller shootin' at me the way that +Miller was at you," the youngster commented in naïve admiration. + +"Bedtime for li'l boys, Keith," his sister reminded him. + +"Oh, lemme stay up a while longer," he begged. + +Joyce was firm. She had schooled her impulses to resist the little +fellow's blandishments, but Dave noticed that she was affectionate even +in her refusal. + +"I'll come up and say good-night after a while, Keithie," she promised as +she kissed him. + +To the gaunt-faced man watching them she was the symbol of all most to be +desired in woman. She embodied youth, health, charm. She was life's +springtime, its promise of fulfillment; yet already an immaculate Madonna +in the beauty of her generous soul. He was young enough in his knowledge +of her sex to be unaware that nature often gives soft trout-pool eyes of +tenderness to coquettes and wonderful hair with the lights and shadows of +an autumn-painted valley to giggling fools. Joyce was neither coquette +nor fool. She was essential woman in the making, with all the faults and +fine brave impulses of her years. Unconsciously, perhaps, she was showing +her best side to her guest, as maidens have done to men since Eve first +smiled on Adam. + +Dave had closed his heart to love. It was to have no room in his life. To +his morbid sensibilities the shadow of the prison walls still stretched +between him and Joyce. It did not matter that he was innocent, that all +his small world would soon know of his vindication. The fact stood. For +years he had been shut away from men, a leprous thing labeled "Unclean!" +He had dwelt in a place of furtive whisperings, of sinister sounds. His +nostrils had inhaled the odor of musty clothes and steamed food. His +fingers had touched moisture sweating through the walls, and in his small +dark cell he had hunted graybacks. The hopeless squalor of it at times +had driven him almost mad. As he saw it now, his guilt was of minor +importance. If he had not fired the shot that killed George Doble, that +was merely a chance detail. What counted against him was that his soul +was marked with the taint of the criminal through association and habit +of thought. He could reason with this feeling and temporarily destroy it. +He could drag it into the light and laugh it away. But subconsciously it +persisted as a horror from which he could not escape. A man cannot touch +pitch, even against his own will, and not be defiled. + +"You're Keith's hero, you know," the girl told Dave, her face bubbling +to unexpected mirth. "He tries to walk and talk like you. He asks the +queerest questions. To-day I caught him diving at a pillow on the bed. +He was making-believe to be you when you were shot." + +Her nearness in the soft, shadowy night shook his self-control. The music +of her voice with its drawling intonations played on his heartstrings. + +"Think I'll go now," he said abruptly. + +"You must come again," she told him. "Keith wants you to teach him how to +rope. You won't mind, will you?" + +The long lashes lifted innocently from the soft deep eyes, which rested +in his for a moment and set clamoring a disturbance in his blood. + +"I'll be right busy," he said awkwardly, bluntly. + +She drew back within herself. "I'd forgotten how busy you are, Mr. +Sanders. Of course we mustn't impose on you," she said, cold and stiff as +only offended youth can be. + +Striding into the night, Dave cursed the fate that had made him what he +was. He had hurt her boorishly by his curt refusal of her friendship. Yet +the heart inside him was a wild river of love. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +AT THE JACKPOT + + +The day lasted twenty-four hours in Malapi. As Sanders walked along +Junipero Street, on his way to the downtown corral from Crawford's house, +saloons and gambling-houses advertised their attractions candidly and +noisily. They seemed bursting with raw and vehement life. The strains of +fiddles and the sound of shuffling feet were pierced occasionally by the +whoop of a drunken reveler. Once there rang out the high notes of a +woman's hysterical laughter. Cowponies and packed burros drooped +listlessly at the hitching-rack. Even loaded wagons were waiting to take +the road as soon as the drivers could tear themselves away from the +attractions of keno and a last drink. + +Junipero Street was not the usual crooked lane that serves as the main +thoroughfare for business in a mining town. For Malapi had been a cowtown +before the discovery of oil. It lay on the wide prairie and not in a +gulch. The street was broad and dusty, flanked by false-front stores, +flat-roofed adobes, and corrugated iron buildings imported hastily since +the first boom. + +At the Stag Horn corral Dave hired a horse and saddled for a night ride. +On his way to the Jackpot he passed a dozen outfits headed for the new +strike. They were hauling supplies of food, tools, timbers, and machinery +to the oil camp. Out of the night a mule skinner shouted a profane and +drunken greeting to him. A Mexican with a burro train gave him a +low-voiced "Buenos noches, señor." + +A fine mist of oil began to spray him when he was still a mile away from +the well. It grew denser as he came nearer. He found Bob Hart, in +oilskins and rubber boots, bossing a gang of scrapers, giving directions +to a second one building a dam across a draw, and supervising a third +group engaged in siphoning crude oil from one sump to another. From head +to foot Hart and his assistants were wet to the skin with the black crude +oil. + +"'Lo, Dave! One sure-enough little spouter!" Bob shouted cheerfully. +"Number Three's sure a-hittin' her up. She's no cougher--stays right +steady on the job. Bet I've wallowed in a million barrels of the stuff +since mo'nin'." He waded through a viscid pool to Dave and asked a +question in a low voice. "What's the good word?" + +"We had a little luck," admitted Sanders, then plumped out his budget of +news. "Got the express money back, captured one of the robbers, forced a +confession out of him, and left him with the sheriff." + +Bob did an Indian war dance in hip boots. "You're the darndest go-getter +ever I did see. Tell it to me, you ornery ol' scalawag." + +His friend told the story of the day so far as it related to the robbery. + +"I could 'a' told you Miller would weaken when you had the rope round his +soft neck. Shorty would 'a' gone through and told you-all where to get +off at." + +"Yes. Miller's yellow. He didn't quit with the robbery, Bob. Must have +been scared bad, I reckon. He admitted that he killed George Doble--by +accident, he claimed. Says Doble ran in front of him while he was +shooting at me." + +"Have you got that down on paper?" demanded Hart. + +"Yes." + +Bob caught his friend's hand. "I reckon the long lane has turned for you, +old socks. I can't tell you how damn glad I am. Doble needed killin', but +I'd rather you hadn't done it." + +The other man made no comment on this phase of the situation. "This +brings Dug Doble out into the open at last. He'll come pretty near going +to the pen for this." + +"I can't see Applegate arrestin' him. He'll fight, Dug will. My notion is +he'll take to the hills and throw off all pretense. If he does he'll be +the worst killer ever was known in this part of the country. You an' +Crawford want to look out for him, Dave." + +"Crawford says he wants me to be treasurer of the company, Bob. You and I +are to manage it, he says, with Burns doing the drilling." + +"Tha's great. He told me he was gonna ask you. Betcha we make the ol' +Jackpot hum." + +"D' you ever hear of a man land poor, Bob?" + +"Sure have." + +"Well, right now we're oil poor. According to what the old man says +there's no cash in the treasury and we've got bills that have to be paid. +You know that ten thousand he paid in to the bank to satisfy the note. He +borrowed it from a friend who took it out of a trust fund to loan it to +him. He didn't tell me who the man is, but he said his friend would get +into trouble a-plenty if it's found out before he replaces the money. +Then we've got to keep our labor bills paid right up. Some of the other +accounts can wait." + +"Can't we borrow money on this gusher?" + +"We'll have to do that. Trouble is that oil isn't a marketable asset +until it reaches a refinery. We can sell stock, of course, but we don't +want to do much of that unless we're forced to it. Our play is to keep +control and not let any other interest in to oust us. It's going to take +some scratching." + +"Looks like," agreed Bob. "Any use tryin' the bank here?" + +"I'll try it, but we'll not accept any call loan. They say Steelman owns +the bank. He won't let us have money unless there's some nigger in the +woodpile. I'll probably have to try Denver." + +"That'll take time." + +"Yes. And time's one thing we haven't got any too much of. Whoever +underwrites this for us will send an expert back with me and will wait +for his report before making a loan. We'll have to talk it over with +Crawford and find out how much treasury stock we'll have to sell locally +to keep the business going till I make a raise." + +"You and the old man decide that, Dave. I can't get away from here till +we get Number Three roped and muzzled. I'll vote for whatever you two +say." + +An hour later Dave rode back to town. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +DAVE MEETS A FINANCIER + + +On more careful consideration Crawford and Sanders decided against trying +to float the Jackpot with local money except by the sale of enough stock +to keep going until the company's affairs could be put on a substantial +basis. To apply to the Malapi bank for a loan would be to expose their +financial condition to Steelman, and it was certain that he would permit +no accommodation except upon terms that would make it possible to wreck +the company. + +"I'm takin' the train for Denver to-morrow, Dave," the older man said. +"You stay here for two-three days and sell enough stock to keep us off +the rocks, then you hot-foot it for Denver too. By the time you get there +I'll have it all fixed up with the Governor about a pardon." + +Dave found no difficulty in disposing of a limited amount of stock in +Malapi at a good price. This done, he took the stage for the junction and +followed Crawford to Denver. An unobtrusive little man with large white +teeth showing stood in line behind him at the ticket window. His +destination also, it appeared, was the Colorado capital. + +If Dave had been a believer in fairy tales he might have thought himself +the hero of one. A few days earlier he had come to Malapi on this same +train, in a day coach, poorly dressed, with no job and no prospects in +life. He had been poor, discredited, a convict on parole. Now he wore +good clothes, traveled in a Pullman, ate in the diner, was a man of +consequence, and, at least on paper, was on the road to wealth. He would +put up at the Albany instead of a cheap rooming-house, and he would meet +on legitimate business some of the big financial men of the West. The +thing was hardly thinkable, yet a turn of the wheel of fortune had done +it for him in an hour. + +The position in which Sanders found himself was possible only because +Crawford was himself a financial babe in the woods. He had borrowed large +sums of money often, but always from men who trusted him and held his +word as better security than collateral. The cattleman was of the +outdoors type to whom the letter of the law means little. A debt was a +debt, and a piece of paper with his name on it did not make payment any +more obligatory. If he had known more about capital and its methods of +finding an outlet, he would never have sent so unsophisticated a man as +Dave Sanders on such a mission. + +For Dave, too, was a child in the business world. He knew nothing of +the inside deals by which industrial enterprises are underwritten and +corporations managed. It was, he supposed, sufficient for his purpose +that the company for which he wanted backing was sure to pay large +dividends when properly put on its feet. + +But Dave had assets of value even for such a task. He had a single-track +mind. He was determined even to obstinacy. He thought straight, and so +directly that he could walk through subtleties without knowing they +existed. + +When he reached Denver he discovered that Crawford had followed the +Governor to the western part of the State, where that official had gone +to open a sectional fair. Sanders had no credentials except a letter of +introduction to the manager of the stockyards. + +"What can I do for you?" asked that gentleman. He was quite willing to +exert himself moderately as a favor to Emerson Crawford, vice-president +of the American Live Stock Association. + +"I want to meet Horace Graham." + +"I can give you a note of introduction to him. You'll probably have to +get an appointment with him through his secretary. He's a tremendously +busy man." + +Dave's talk with the great man's secretary over the telephone was not +satisfactory. Mr. Graham, he learned, had every moment full for the next +two days, after which he would leave for a business trip to the East. + +There were other wealthy men in Denver who might be induced to finance +the Jackpot, but Dave intended to see Graham first. The big railroad +builder was a fighter. He was hammering through, in spite of heavy +opposition from trans-continental lines, a short cut across the Rocky +Mountains from Denver. He was a pioneer, one who would take a chance +on a good thing in the plunging, Western way. In his rugged, clean-cut +character was much that appealed to the managers of the Jackpot. + +Sanders called at the financier's office and sent in his card by the +youthful Cerberus who kept watch at the gate. The card got no farther +than the great man's private secretary. + +After a wait of more than an hour Dave made overtures to the boy. A +dollar passed from him to the youth and established a friendly relation. + +"What's the best way to reach Mr. Graham, son? I've got important +business that won't wait." + +"Dunno. He's awful busy. You ain't got no appointment." + +"Can you get a note to him? I've got a five-dollar bill for you if you +can." + +"I'll take a whirl at it. Jus' 'fore he goes to lunch." + +Dave penciled a line on a card. + +If you are not too busy to make $100,000 to-day you had better see me. + +He signed his name. + +Ten minutes later the office boy caught Graham as he rose to leave for +lunch. The big man read the note. + +"What kind of looking fellow is he?" he asked the boy. + +"Kinda solemn-lookin' guy, sir." The boy remembered the dollar received +on account and the five dollars on the horizon. "Big, straight-standin', +honest fellow. From Arizona or Texas, mebbe. Looked good to me." + +The financier frowned down at the note in doubt, twisting it in his +fingers. A dozen times a week his privacy was assailed by some crazy +inventor or crook promoter. He remembered that he had had a letter from +some one about this man. Something of strength in the chirography of the +note in his hand and something of simple directness in the wording +decided him to give an interview. + +"Show him in," he said abruptly, and while he waited in the office rated +himself for his folly in wasting time. + +Underneath bushy brows steel-gray eyes took Dave in shrewdly. + +"Well, what is it?" snapped the millionaire. + +"The new gusher in the Malapi pool," answered Sanders at once, and his +gaze was as steady as that of the big state-builder. + +"You represent the parties that own it?" + +"Yes." + +"And you want?" + +"Financial backing to put it on its feet until we can market the +product." + +"Why don't you work through your local bank?" + +"Another oil man, an enemy of our company, controls the Malapi bank." + +Graham fired question after question at him, crisply, abruptly, and +Sanders gave him back straight, short answers. + +"Sit down," ordered the railroad builder, resuming his own seat. "Tell me +the whole story of the company." + +Dave told it, and in the telling he found it necessary to sketch the +Crawford-Steelman feud. He brought himself into the narrative as little +as possible, but the grizzled millionaire drew enough from him to set +Graham's eye to sparkling. + +"Come back to-morrow at noon," decided the great man. "I'll let you know +my decision then." + +The young man knew he was dismissed, but he left the office elated. +Graham had been favorably impressed. He liked the proposition, believed +in its legitimacy and its possibilities. Dave felt sure he would send an +expert to Malapi with him to report on it as an investment. If so, he +would almost certainly agree to put money in it. + +A man with prominent white front teeth had followed Dave to the office of +Horace Graham, had seen him enter, and later had seen him come out with a +look on his face that told of victory. The man tried to get admittance to +the financier and failed. He went back to his hotel and wrote a short +letter which he signed with a fictitious name. This he sent by special +delivery to Graham. The letter was brief and to the point. It said: + +Don't do business with David Sanders without investigating his record. He +is a horsethief and a convicted murderer. Some months ago he was paroled +from the penitentiary at Cañon City and since then has been in several +shooting scrapes. He was accused of robbing a stage and murdering the +driver less than a week ago. + +Graham read the letter and called in his private secretary. "McMurray, +get Cañon City on the 'phone and find out if a man called David Sanders +was released from the penitentiary there lately. If so, what was he +in for? Describe the man to the warden: under twenty-five, tall, straight +as an Indian, strongly built, looks at you level and steady, brown hair, +steel-blue eyes. Do it now." + +Before he left the office that afternoon Graham had before him a +typewritten memorandum from his secretary covering the case of David +Sanders. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THREE IN CONSULTATION + + +The grizzled railroad builder fixed Sanders with an eye that had read +into the soul of many a shirker and many a dishonest schemer. + +"How long have you been with the Jackpot Company?" + +"Not long. Only a few days." + +"How much stock do you own?" + +"Ten thousand shares." + +"How did you get it?" + +"It was voted me by the directors for saving Jackpot Number Three from an +attack of Steelman's men." + +Graham's gaze bored into the eyes of his caller. He waited just a moment +to give his question full emphasis. "Mr. Sanders, what were you doing six +months ago?" + +"I was serving time in the penitentiary," came the immediate quiet +retort. + +"What for?" + +"For manslaughter." + +"You didn't tell me this yesterday." + +"No. It has no bearing on the value of the proposition I submitted to +you, and I thought it might prejudice you against it." + +"Have you been in any trouble since you left prison?" + +Dave hesitated. The blazer of railroad trails rapped out a sharp, +explanatory question. "Any shooting scrapes?" + +"A man shot at me in Malapi. I was unarmed." + +"That all?" + +"Another man fired at me out at the Jackpot. I was unarmed then." + +"Were you accused of holding up a stage, robbing it, and killing the +driver?" + +"No. I was twenty miles away at the time of the hold-up and had evidence +to prove it." + +"Then you were mentioned in connection with the robbery?" + +"If so, only by my enemies. One of the robbers was captured and made a +full confession. He showed where the stolen gold was cached and it was +recovered." + +The great man looked with chilly eyes at the young fellow standing in +front of him. He had a sense of having been tricked and imposed upon. + +"I have decided not to accept your proposition to cooperate with you in +financing the Jackpot Company, Mr. Sanders." Horace Graham pressed an +electric button and a clerk appeared. "Show this gentleman out, Hervey." + +But Sanders stood his ground. Nobody could have guessed from his stolid +imperturbability how much he was depressed at this unexpected failure. + +"Do I understand that you are declining this loan because I am connected +with it, Mr. Graham?" + +"I do not give a reason, sir. The loan does not appeal to me," the +railroad builder said with chill finality. + +"It appealed to you yesterday," persisted Dave. + +"But not to-day. Hervey, I will see Mr. Gates at once. Tell McMurray so." + +Reluctantly Dave followed the clerk out of the room. He had been +checkmated, but he did not know how. In some way Steelman had got to the +financier with this story that had damned the project. The new treasurer +of the Jackpot Company was much distressed. If his connection with the +company was going to have this effect, he must resign at once. + +He walked back to the hotel, and in the corridor of the Albany met a big +bluff cattleman the memory of whose kindness leaped across the years to +warm his heart. + +"You don't remember me, Mr. West?" + +The owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter Circle looked at the young man and +gave a little whoop. "Damn my skin, if it ain't the boy who bluffed a +whole railroad system into lettin' him reload stock for me!" He hooked an +arm under Dave's and led him straight to the bar. "Where you been? What +you doin'? Why n't you come to me soon as you ... got out of a job? +What'll you have, boy?" + +Dave named ginger ale. They lifted glasses. + +"How?" + +"How?" + +"Now you tell me all about it," said West presently, leading the way to a +lounge seat in the mezzanine gallery. + +Sanders answered at first in monosyllables, but presently he found +himself telling the story of his failure to enlist Horace Graham in the +Jackpot property as a backer. + +The cattleman began to rumple his hair, just as he had done years ago in +moments of excitement. + +"Wish I'd known, boy. I've been acquainted with Horace Graham ever since +he ran a hardware store on Larimer Street, and that's 'most thirty years +ago. I'd 'a' gone with you to see him. Maybe I can see him now." + +"You can't change the facts, Mr. West. When he knew I was a convict he +threw the whole thing overboard." + +The voice of a page in the lobby rose in sing-song. "Mister Sa-a-anders. +Mis-ter Sa-a-a-anders." + +Dave stepped to the railing and called down. "I'm Mr. Sanders. Who wants +me?" + +A man near the desk waved a paper and shouted: "Hello, Dave! News for +you, son. I'll come up." The speaker was Crawford. + +He shook hands with Dave and with West while he ejaculated his news in +jets. "I got it, son. Got it right here. Came back with the Governor this +mo'nin'. Called together Pardon Board. Here 't is. Clean bill of health, +son. Resolutions of regret for miscarriage of justice. Big story front +page's afternoon's papers." + +Dave smiled sardonically. "You're just a few hours late, Mr. Crawford. +Graham turned us down cold this morning because I'm a penitentiary bird." + +"He did?" Crawford began to boil inside. "Well, he can go right plumb to +Yuma. Anybody so small as that--" + +"Hold yore hawsses, Em," said West, smiling. + +"Graham didn't know the facts. If you was a capitalist an' thinkin' of +loanin' big money to a man you found out had been in prison for +manslaughter and that he had since been accused of robbin' a stage an' +killing the driver--" + +"He was in a hurry," explained Dave. "Going East to-morrow. Some one must +have got at him after I saw him. He'd made up his mind when I went back +to-day." + +"Well, Horace Graham ain't one of those who won't change his views for +heaven, hell, and high water. All we've got to do is to get to him and +make him see the light," said West. + +"When are we going to do all that?" asked Sanders. "He's busy every +minute of the time till he starts. He won't give us an appointment." + +"He'll see me. We're old friends," predicted West confidently. + +Crestfallen, he met the two officers of the Jackpot Company three hours +later. "Couldn't get to him. Sent word out he was sorry, an' how was Mrs. +West an' the children, but he was in conference an' couldn't break away." + +Dave nodded. He had expected this and prepared for it. "I've found out +he's going on the eight o'clock flyer. You going to be busy to-morrow, +Mr. West?" + +"No. I got business at the stockyards, but I can put it off." + +"Then I'll get tickets for Omaha on the flyer. Graham will take his +private car. We'll break in and put this up to him. He was friendly to +our proposition before he got the wrong slant on it. If he's open-minded, +as Mr. West says he is--" + +Crawford slapped an open hand on his thigh. "Say, you get the _best_ +ideas, son. We'll do just that." + +"I'll check up and make sure Graham's going on the flyer," said the young +man. "If we fall down we'll lose only a day. Come back when we meet the +night train. I reckon we won't have to get tickets clear through to +Omaha." + +"Fine and dandy," agreed West. "We'll sure see Graham if we have to bust +the door of his car." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +ON THE FLYER + + +West, his friends not in evidence, artfully waylaid Graham on his way to +the private car. + +"Hello, Henry B. Sorry I couldn't see you yesterday," the railroad +builder told West as they shook hands. "You taking this tram?" + +"Yes, sir. Got business takes me East." + +"Drop in to see me some time this morning. Say about noon. You'll have +lunch with me." + +"Suits me. About noon, then," agreed West. + +The conspirators modified their plans to meet a new strategic situation. +West was still of opinion that he had better use his card of entry to get +his friends into the railroad builder's car, but he yielded to Dave's +view that it would be wiser for the cattleman to pave the way at +luncheon. + +Graham's secretary ate lunch with the two old-timers and the conversation +threatened to get away from West and hover about financial conditions in +New York. The cattleman brought it by awkward main force to the subject +he had in mind. + +"Say, Horace, I wanta talk with you about a proposition that's on my +chest," he broke out. + +Graham helped himself to a lamb chop. "Sail in, Henry B. You've got me at +your mercy." + +At the first mention of the Jackpot gusher the financier raised a +prohibitive hand. "I've disposed of that matter. No use reopening it." + +But West stuck to his guns. "I ain't aimin' to try to change yore mind on +a matter of business, Horace. If you'll tell me that you turned down the +proposition because it didn't look to you like there was money in it, +I'll curl right up and not say another word." + +"It doesn't matter why I turned it down. I had my reasons." + +"It matters if you're doin' an injustice to one of the finest young +fellows I know," insisted the New Mexican stanchly. + +"Meaning the convict?" + +"Call him that if you've a mind to. The Governor pardoned him yesterday +because another man confessed he did the killin' for which Dave was +convicted. The boy was railroaded through on false evidence." + +The railroad builder was a fair-minded man. He did not want to be unjust +to any one. At the same time he was not one to jump easily from one view +to another. + +"I noticed something in the papers about a pardon, but I didn't know it +was our young oil promoter. There are other rumors about him too. A stage +robbery, for instance, and a murder with it." + +"He and Em Crawford ran down the robbers and got the money back. One of +the robbers confessed. Dave hadn't a thing to do with the hold-up. +There's a bad gang down in that country. Crawford and Sanders have been +fightin' 'em, so naturally they tell lies about 'em." + +"Did you say this Sanders ran down one of the robbers?" + +"Yes." + +"He didn't tell me that," said Graham thoughtfully. "I liked the young +fellow when I first saw him. He looks quiet and strong; a self-reliant +fellow would be my guess." + +"You bet he is." West laughed reminiscently. "Lemme tell you how I first +met him." He told the story of how Dave had handled the stock shipment +for him years before. + +Horace Graham nodded shrewdly. "Exactly the way I had him sized up till +I began investigating him. Well, let's hear the rest. What more do you +know about him?" + +The Albuquerque man told the other of Dave's conviction, of how he had +educated himself in the penitentiary, of his return home and subsequent +adventures there. + +"There's a man back there in the Pullman knows him like he was his +own son, a straight man, none better in this Western country," West +concluded. + +"Who is he?" + +"Emerson Crawford of the D Bar Lazy R ranch." + +"I've heard of him. He's in this Jackpot company too, isn't he?" + +"He's president of it. If he says the company's right, then it's right." + +"Bring him in to me." + +West reported to his friends, a large smile on his wrinkled face. "I got +him goin' south, boys. Come along, Em, it's up to you now." + +The big financier took one comprehensive look at Emerson Crawford and did +not need any letter of recommendation. A vigorous honesty spoke in the +strong hand-grip, the genial smile, the level, steady eyes. + +"Tell me about this young desperado you gentlemen are trying to saw off +on me," Graham directed, meeting the smile with another and offering +cigars to his guests. + +Crawford told him. He began with the story of the time Sanders and +Hart had saved him from the house of his enemy into which he had been +betrayed. He related how the boy had pursued the men who stole his pinto +and the reasoning which had led him to take it without process of law. He +told the true story of the killing, of the young fellow's conviction, of +his attempt to hold a job in Denver without concealing his past, and of +his busy week since returning to Malapi. + +"All I've got to say is that I hope my boy will grow up to be as good +a man as Dave Sanders," the cattleman finished, and he turned over to +Graham a copy of the findings of the Pardon Board, of the pardon, and of +the newspapers containing an account of the affair with a review of the +causes that had led to the miscarriage of justice. + +"Now about your Jackpot Company. What do you figure as the daily output +of the gusher?" asked Graham. + +"Don't know. It's a whale of a well. Seems to have tapped a great lake of +oil half a mile underground. My driller Burns figures it at from twenty +to thirty thousand barrels a day. I cayn't even guess, because I know so +blamed little about oil." + +Graham looked out of the window at the rushing landscape and tapped on +the table with his finger-tips absentmindedly. Presently he announced a +decision crisply. + +"If you'll leave your papers here I'll look them over and let you know +what I'll do. When I'm ready I'll send McMurray forward to you." + +An hour later the secretary announced to the three men in the Pullman the +decision of his chief. + +"Mr. Graham has instructed me to tell you gentlemen he'll look into your +proposition. I am wiring an oil expert in Denver to return with you to +Malapi. If his report is favorable, Mr. Graham will cooperate with you +in developing the field." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +TWO ON THE HILLTOPS + + +It was the morning after his return. Emerson Crawford helped himself to +another fried egg from the platter and shook his knife at the bright-eyed +girl opposite. + +"I tell you, honey, the boy's a wonder," he insisted. "Knows what he +wants and goes right after it. Don't waste any words. Don't beat around +the bush. Don't let any one bluff him out. Graham says if I don't want +him he'll give him a responsible job pronto." + +The girl's trim head tilted at her father in a smile of sweet derision. +She was pleased, but she did not intend to say so. + +"I believe you're in love with Dave Sanders, Dad. It's about time for me +to be jealous." + +Crawford defended himself. "He's had a hard row to hoe, and he's comin' +out fine. I aim to give him every chance in the world to make good. It's +up to us to stand by him." + +"If he'll let us." Joyce jumped up and ran round the table to him. They +were alone, Keith having departed with a top to join his playmates. She +sat on the arm of his chair, a straight, slim creature very much alive, +and pressed her face of flushed loveliness against his head. "It won't be +your fault, old duck, if things don't go well with him. You're good--the +best ever--a jim-dandy friend. But he's so--so--Oh, I don't know--stiff +as a poker. Acts as if he doesn't want to be friends, as if we're all +ready to turn against him. He makes me good and tired, Dad. Why can't he +be--human?" + +"Now, Joy, you got to remember--" + +"--that he was in prison and had an awful time of it. Oh, yes, I remember +all that. He won't let us forget it. It's just like he held us off all +the time and insisted on us not forgetting it. I'd just like to shake the +foolishness out of him." A rueful little laugh welled from her throat at +the thought. + +"He cayn't be gay as Bob Hart all at onct. Give him time." + +"You're so partial to him you don't see when he's doing wrong. But I see +it. Yesterday he hardly spoke when I met him. Ridiculous. It's all right +for him to hold back and be kinda reserved with outsiders. But with his +friends--you and Bob and old Buck Byington and me--he ought not to shut +himself up in an ice cave. And I'm going to tell him so." + +The cattleman's arm slid round her warm young body and drew her close. +She was to him the dearest thing in the world, a never-failing, exquisite +wonder and mystery. Sometimes even now he was amazed that this rare +spirit had found the breath of life through him. + +"You wanta remember you're a li'l lady," he reproved. "You wouldn't want +to do anything you'd be sorry for, honeybug." + +"I'm not so sure about that," she flushed, amusement rippling her face. +"Someone's got to blow up that young man like a Dutch uncle, and I think +I'm elected. I'll try not to think about being a lady; then I can do my +full duty, Dad. It'll be fun to see how he takes it." + +"Now--now," he remonstrated. + +"It's all right to be proud," she went on. "I wouldn't want to see him +hold his head any lower. But there's no sense in being so offish that +even his friends have to give him up. And that's what it'll come to if he +acts the way he does. Folks will stand just so much. Then they give up +trying." + +"I reckon you're right about that, Joy." + +"Of course I'm right. You have to meet your friends halfway." + +"Well, if you talk to him don't hurt his feelin's." + +There was a glint of mirth in her eyes, almost of friendly malice. "I'm +going to worry him about _my_ feelings, Dad. He'll not have time to think +of his own." + +Joyce found her chance next day. She met David Sanders in front of a +drug-store. He would have passed with a bow if she had let him. + +"What does the oil expert Mr. Graham sent think about our property?" she +asked presently, greetings having been exchanged. + +"He hasn't given out any official opinion yet, but he's impressed. The +report will be favorable, I think." + +"Isn't that good?" + +"Couldn't be better," he admitted. + +It was a warm day. Joyce glanced in at the soda fountain and said +demurely, "My, but it's hot! Won't you come in and have an ice-cream soda +on me?" + +Dave flushed. "If you'll go as my guest," he said stiffly. + +"How good of you to invite me!" she accepted, laughing, but with a tint +of warmer color in her cheeks. + +Rhythmically she moved beside him to a little table in the corner of the +drug-store. "I own stock in the Jackpot. You've got to give an accounting +to me. Have you found a market yet?" + +"The whole Southwest will be our market as soon as we can reach it." + +"And when will that be?" she asked. + +"I'm having some hauled to relieve the glut. The railroad will be +operating inside of six weeks. We'll keep Number Three capped till then +and go on drilling in other locations. Burns is spudding in a new well +to-day." + +The clerk took their order and departed. They were quite alone, not +within hearing of anybody. Joyce took her fear by the throat and plunged +in. + +"You mad at me, Mr. Sanders?" she asked jauntily. + +"You know I'm not." + +"How do I know it?" she asked innocently. "You say as little to me as you +can, and get away from me as quick as you can. Yesterday, for instance, +you'd hardly say 'Good-morning.'" + +"I didn't mean to be rude. I was busy." Dave felt acutely uncomfortable. +"I'm sorry if I didn't seem sociable." + +"So was Mr. Hart busy, but he had time to stop and say a pleasant word." +The brown eyes challenged their vis-à -vis steadily. + +The young man found nothing to say. He could not explain that he had not +lingered because he was giving Bob a chance to see her alone, nor could +he tell her that he felt it better for his peace of mind to keep away +from her as much as possible. + +"I'm not in the habit of inviting young men to invite me to take a soda, +Mr. Sanders," she went on. "This is my first offense. I never did it +before, and I never expect to again.... I do hope the new well will come +in a good one." The last sentence was for the benefit of the clerk +returning with the ice-cream. + +"Looks good," said Dave, playing up. "Smut's showing, and you know that's +a first-class sign." + +"Bob said it was expected in to-day or to-morrow.... I asked you because +I've something to say to you, something I think one of your friends ought +to say, and--and I'm going to do it," she concluded in a voice modulated +just to reach him. + +The clerk had left the glasses and the check. He was back at the fountain +polishing the counter. + +Sanders waited in silence. He had learned to let the burden of +conversation rest on his opponent, and he knew that Joyce just now +was in that class. + +She hesitated, uncertain of her opening. Then, "You're disappointing your +friends, Mr. Sanders," she said lightly. + +He did not know what an effort it took to keep her voice from quavering, +her hand from trembling as it rested on the onyx top of the table. + +"I'm sorry," he said a second time. + +"Perhaps it's our fault. Perhaps we haven't been ... friendly enough." +The lifted eyes went straight into his. + +He found an answer unexpectedly difficult. "No man ever had more generous +friends," he said at last brusquely, his face set hard. + +The girl guessed at the tense feeling back of his words. + +"Let's walk," she replied, and he noticed that the eyes and mouth had +softened to a tender smile. "I can't talk here, Dave." + +They made a pretense of finishing their sodas, then walked out of the +town into the golden autumn sunlight of the foothills. Neither of them +spoke. She carried herself buoyantly, chin up, her face a flushed cameo +of loveliness. As she took the uphill trail a small breath of wind +wrapped the white skirt about her slender limbs. He found in her a new +note, one of unaccustomed shyness. + +The silence grew at last too significant. She was driven to break it. + +"I suppose I'm foolish," she began haltingly. "But I had been +expecting--all of us had--that when you came home from--from Denver--the +first time, I mean--you would be the old Dave Sanders we all knew and +liked. We wanted our friendship to--to help make up to you for what you +must have suffered. We didn't think you'd hold us off like this." + +His eyes narrowed. He looked away at the cedars on the hills painted in +lustrous blues and greens and purples, and at the slopes below burnt to +exquisite color lights by the fires of fall. But what he saw was a gray +prison wall with armed men in the towers. + +"If I could tell you!" He said it in a whisper, to himself, but she just +caught the words. + +"Won't you try?" she said, ever so gently. + +He could not sully her innocence by telling of the furtive whisperings +that had fouled the prison life, made of it an experience degrading and +corrosive. He told her, instead, of the externals of that existence, of +how he had risen, dressed, eaten, worked, exercised, and slept under +orders. He described to her the cells, four by seven by seven, barred, +built in tiers, faced by narrow iron balconies, each containing a stool, +a chair, a shelf, a bunk. In his effort to show her the chasm that +separated him from her he did not spare himself at all. Dryly and in +clean-cut strokes he showed her the sordidness of which he had been the +victim and left her to judge for herself of its evil effect on his +character. + +When he had finished he knew that he had failed. She wept for pity and +murmured, "You poor boy.... You poor boy!" + +He tried again, and this time he drew the moral. "Don't you see, I'm a +marked man--marked for life." He hesitated, then pushed on. "You're fine +and clean and generous--what a good father and mother, and all this have +made you." He swept his hand round in a wide gesture to include the sun +and the hills and all the brave life of the open. "If I come too near +you, don't you see I taint you? I'm a man who was shut up because--" + +"Fiddlesticks! You're a man who has been done a wrong. You mustn't grow +morbid over it. After all, you've been found innocent." + +"That isn't what counts. I've been in the penitentiary. Nothing can wipe +that out. The stain of it's on me and can't be washed away." + +She turned on him with a little burst of feminine ferocity. "How dare you +talk that way, Dave Sanders! I want to be proud of you. We all do. But +how can we be if you give up like a quitter? Don't we all have to keep +beginning our lives over and over again? Aren't we all forever getting +into trouble and getting out of it? A man is as good as he makes himself. +It doesn't matter what outside thing has happened to him. Do you dare +tell me that my dad wouldn't be worth loving if he'd been in prison forty +times?" + +The color crept into his face. "I'm not quitting. I'm going through. The +point is whether I'm to ask my friends to carry my load for me." + +"What are your friends for?" she demanded, and her eyes were like stars +in a field of snow. "Don't you see it's an insult to assume they don't +want to stand with you in your trouble? You've been warped. You're +eaten up with vain pride." Joyce bit her lip to choke back a swelling in +her throat. "The Dave we used to know wasn't like that. He was friendly +and sweet. When folks were kind to him he was kind to them. He wasn't +like--like an old poker." She fell back helplessly on the simile she had +used with her father. + +"I don't blame you for feeling that way," he said gently. "When I first +came out I did think I'd play a lone hand. I was hard and bitter and +defiant. But when I met you-all again--and found you were just like home +folks--all of you so kind and good, far beyond any claims I had on +you--why, Miss Joyce, my heart went out to my old friends with a rush. +It sure did. Maybe I had to be stiff to keep from being mushy." + +"Oh, if that's it!" Her eager face, flushed and tender, nodded approval. + +"But you've got to look at this my way too," he urged. "I can't repay +your father's kindness--yes, and yours too--by letting folks couple your +name, even in friendship, with a man who--" + +She turned on him, glowing with color. "Now that's absurd, Dave Sanders. +I'm not a--a nice little china doll. I'm a flesh-and-blood girl. And I'm +not a statue on a pedestal. I've got to live just like other people. +The trouble with you is that you want to be generous, but you don't want +to give other folks a chance to be. Let's stop this foolishness and be +sure-enough friends--Dave." + +He took her outstretched hand in his brown palm, smiling down at her. +"All right. I know when I'm beaten." + +She beamed. "That's the first honest-to-goodness smile I've seen on your +face since you came back." + +"I've got millions of 'em in my system," he promised. "I've been hoarding +them up for years." + +"Don't hoard them any more. Spend them," she urged. + +"I'll take that prescription, Doctor Joyce." And he spent one as evidence +of good faith. + +The soft and shining oval of her face rippled with gladness as a mountain +lake sparkles with sunshine in a light summer breeze. "I've found again +that Dave boy I lost," she told him. + +"You won't lose him again," he answered, pushing into the hinterland +of his mind the reflection that a man cannot change the color of his +thinking in an hour. + +"We thought he'd gone away for good. I'm so glad he hasn't." + +"No. He's been here all the time, but he's been obeying the orders of a +man who told him he had no business to be alive." + +He looked at her with deep, inscrutable eyes. As a boy he had been +shy but impulsive. The fires of discipline had given him remarkable +self-restraint. She could not tell he was finding in her face the quality +to inspire in a painter a great picture, the expression of that brave +young faith which made her a touchstone to find the gold in his soul. + +Yet in his gravity was something that disturbed her blood. Was she +fanning to flame banked fires better dormant? + +She felt a compunction for what she had done. Maybe she had been +unwomanly. It is a penalty impulsive people have to pay that later they +must consider whether they have been bold and presumptuous. Her spirits +began to droop when she should logically have been celebrating her +success. + +But Dave walked on mountain-tops tipped with mellow gold. He threw off +the weight that had oppressed his spirits for years and was for the hour +a boy again. She had exorcised the gloom in which he walked. He looked +down on a magnificent flaming desert, and it was good. To-day was his. +To-morrow was his. All the to-morrows of the world were in his hand. He +refused to analyze the causes of his joy. It was enough that beside him +moved with charming diffidence the woman of his dreams, that with her +soft hands she had torn down the barrier between them. + +"And now I don't know whether I've done right," she said ruefully. "Dad +warned me I'd better be careful. But of course I always know best. I +'rush in.'" + +"You've done me a million dollars' worth of good. I needed some good +friend to tell me just what you have. Please don't regret it." + +"Well, I won't." She added, in a hesitant murmur, "You +won't--misunderstand?" + +His look turned aside the long-lashed eyes and brought a faint flush of +pink to her cheeks. + +"No, I'll not do that," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +DAVE BECOMES AN OFFICE MAN + + +From Graham came a wire a week after the return of the oil expert to +Denver. It read: + +Report satisfactory. Can you come at once and arrange with me plan of +organization? + +Sanders was on the next train. He was still much needed at Malapi to look +after getting supplies and machinery and to arrange for a wagon train of +oil teams, but he dropped or delegated this work for the more important +call that had just come. + +His contact with Graham uncovered a new side of the state builder, one +that was to impress him in all the big business men he met. They might be +pleasant socially and bear him a friendly good-will, but when they met to +arrange details of a financial plan they always wanted their pound of +flesh. Graham drove a hard bargain with him. He tied the company fast by +legal control of its affairs until his debt was satisfied. He exacted a +bonus in the form of stock that fairly took the breath of the young man +with whom he was negotiating. Dave fought him round by round and found +the great man smooth and impervious as polished agate. + +Yet Dave liked him. When they met at lunch, as they did more than once, +the grizzled Westerner who had driven a line of steel across almost +impassable mountain passes was simple and frank in talk. He had taken +a fancy to this young fellow, and he let him know it. Perhaps he found +something of his own engaging, dogged youth in the strong-jawed +range-rider. + +"Does a financier always hogtie a proposition before he backs it?" Dave +asked him once with a sardonic gleam in his eye. + +"Always." + +"No matter how much he trusts the people he's doing business with?" + +"He binds them hard and fast just the same. It's the only way to do. Give +away as much money as you want to, but when you loan money look after +your security like a hawk." + +"Even when you're dealing with friends?" + +"Especially when you're dealing with friends," corrected the older man. +"Otherwise you're likely not to have your friends long." + +"Don't believe I want to be a financier," decided Sanders. + +"It takes the hot blood out of you," admitted Graham. "I'm not sure, if I +had my life to live over again, knowing what I know now, that I wouldn't +choose the outdoors like West and Crawford." + +Sanders was very sure which choice he would like to make. He was at +present embarked on the business of making money through oil, but some +day he meant to go back to the serenity of a ranch. There were times +when he left the conferences with Graham or his lieutenants sick at heart +because of the uphill battle he must fight to protect his associates. + +From Denver he went East to negotiate for some oil tanks and material +with which to construct reservoirs. His trip was a flying one. He +entrained for Malapi once more to look after the loose ends that had been +accumulating locally in his absence. A road had to be built across the +desert. Contracts must be let for hauling away the crude oil. A hundred +details waited his attention. + +He worked day and night. Often he slept only a few hours. He grew lean in +body and curt of speech. Lines came into his face that had not been there +before. But at his work apparently he was tireless as steel springs. + +Meanwhile Brad Steelman moled to undermine the company. Dave's men +finished building a bridge across a gulch late one day. It was blown +up into kindling wood by dynamite that night. Wagons broke down +unexpectedly. Shipments of supplies failed to arrive. Engines were +mysteriously smashed. + +The sabotage was skillful. Steelman's agents left no evidence that could +be used against them. More than one of them, Hart and Sanders agreed, +were spies who had found employment with the Jackpot. One or two men were +discharged on suspicion, even though complete evidence against them was +lacking. + +The responsibility that had been thrust on Dave brought out in him +unsuspected business capacity. During his prison days there had developed +in him a quality of leadership. He had been more than once in charge of a +road-building gang of convicts and had found that men naturally turned to +him for guidance. But not until Crawford shifted to his shoulders the +burdens of the Jackpot did he know that he had it in him to grapple with +organization on a fairly large scale. + +He worked without nerves, day in, day out, concentrating in a way that +brought results. He never let himself get impatient with details. +Thoroughness had long since become the habit of his life. To this he +added a sane common sense. + +Jackpot Number Four came in a good well, though not a phenomenal one +like its predecessor. Number Five was already halfway down to the sands. +Meanwhile the railroad crept nearer. Malapi was already talking of its +big celebration when the first engine should come to town. Its council +had voted to change the name of the place to Bonanza. + +The tide was turning against Steelman. He was still a very rich man, but +he seemed no longer to be a lucky one. He brought in a dry well. On +another location the cable had pulled out of the socket and a forty-foot +auger stem and bit lay at the bottom of a hole fifteen hundred feet deep. +His best producer was beginning to cough a weak and intermittent flow +even under steady pumping. And, to add to his troubles, a quiet little +man had dropped into town to investigate one of his companies. He was a +Government agent, and the rumor was that he was gathering evidence. + +Sanders met Thomas on the street. He had not seen him since the +prospector had made his wild ride for safety with the two outlaws hard +on his heels. + +"Glad you made it, Mr. Thomas," said Dave. "Good bit of strategy. When +they reached the notch, Shorty and Doble never once looked to see if we +were around. They lit out after you on the jump. Did they come close to +getting you?" + +"It looked like bullets would be flyin'. I won't say who would 'a' got +who if they had," he said modestly. "But I wasn't lookin' for no trouble. +I don't aim to be one of these here fire-eaters, but I'll fight like a +wildcat when I got to." The prospector looked defiantly at Sanders, +bristling like a bantam which has been challenged. + +"We certainly owe you something for the way you drew the outlaws off our +trail," Dave said gravely. + +"Say, have you heard how the Government is gettin' after Steelman? +He's a wily bird, old Brad is, but he slipped up when he sent out his +advertisin' for the Great Mogul. A photographer faked a gusher for him +and they sent it out on the circulars." + +Sanders nodded, without comment. + +"Steelman can make 'em flow, on paper anyhow," Thomas chortled. "But he's +sure in a kettle of hot water this time." + +"Mr. Steelman is enterprising," Dave admitted dryly. + +"Say, Mr. Sanders, have you heard what's become of Shorty and Doble?" the +prospector asked, lapsing to ill-concealed anxiety. "I see the sheriff +has got a handbill out offerin' a reward for their arrest and conviction. +You don't reckon those fellows would bear me any grudge, do you?" + +"No. But I wouldn't travel in the hills alone if I were you. If you +happened to meet them they might make things unpleasant." + +"They're both killers. I'm a peaceable citizen, as the fellow says. O' +course if they crowd me to the wall--" + +"They won't," Dave assured him. + +He knew that the outlaws, if the chance ever came for them, would strike +at higher game than Thomas. They would try to get either Crawford or +Sanders himself. The treasurer of the Jackpot did not fool himself with +any false promises of safety. The two men in the hills were desperate +characters, game as any in the country, gun-fighters, and they owed both +him and Crawford a debt they would spare no pains to settle in full. Some +day there would come an hour of accounting. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +ON THE DODGE + + +Up in the hills back of Bear Cañon two men were camping. They breakfasted +on slow elk, coffee, and flour-and-water biscuits. When they had +finished, they washed their tin dishes with sand in the running brook. + +"Might's well be hittin' the trail," one growled. + +The other nodded without speaking, rose lazily, and began to pack +the camp outfit. Presently, when he had arranged the load to his +satisfaction, he threw the diamond hitch and stood back to take a chew of +tobacco while he surveyed his work. He was a squat, heavy-set man with a +Chihuahua hat. Also he was a two-gun man. After a moment he circled an +arrowweed thicket and moved into the chaparral where his horse was +hobbled. + +The man who had spoken rose with one lithe twist of his big body. His +eyes, hard and narrow, watched the shorter man disappear in the brush. +Then he turned swiftly and strode toward the shoulder of the ridge. + +In the heavy undergrowth of dry weeds and grass he stopped and tested the +wind with a bandanna handkerchief. The breeze was steady and fairly +strong. It blew down the cañon toward the foothills beyond. + +The man stripped from a scrub oak a handful of leaves. They were very +brittle and crumbled in his hand. A match flared out. His palm cupped it +for a moment to steady the blaze before he touched it to the crisp +foliage. Into a nest of twigs he thrust the small flame. The twigs, dry +as powder from a four-months' drought, crackled like miniature fireworks. +The grass caught, and a small line of fire ran quickly out. + +The man rose. On his brown face was an evil smile, in his hard eyes +something malevolent and sinister. The wind would do the rest. + +He walked back toward the camp. At the shoulder crest he turned to look +back. From out of the chaparral a thin column of pale gray smoke was +rising. + +His companion stamped out the remains of the breakfast fire and threw +dirt on the ashes to make sure no live ember could escape in the wind. +Then he swung to the saddle. + +"Ready, Dug?" he asked. + +The big man growled an assent and followed him over the summit into the +valley beyond. + +"Country needs a rain bad," the man in the Chihuahua hat commented. +"Don't know as I recollect a dryer season." + +The big hawk-nosed man by his side cackled in his throat with short, +splenetic mirth. "It'll be some dryer before the rains," he prophesied. + +They climbed out of the valley to the rim. The short man was bringing up +the rear along the narrow trail-ribbon. He turned in the saddle to look +back, a hand on his horse's rump. Perhaps he did this because of the +power of suggestion. Several times Doble had already swung his head to +scan with a searching gaze the other side of the valley. + +Mackerel clouds were floating near the horizon in a sky of blue. Was that +or was it not smoke just over the brow of the hill? + +"Cayn't be our camp-fire," the squat man said aloud. "I smothered that +proper." + +"Them's clouds," pronounced Doble quickly. "Clouds an' some mist risin' +from the gulch." + +"I reckon," agreed the other, with no sure conviction. Doble must be +right, of course. No fire had been in evidence when they left the +camping-ground, and he was sure he had stamped out the one that had +cooked the biscuits. Yet that stringy gray film certainly looked like +smoke. He hung in the wind, half of a mind to go back and make sure. Fire +in the chaparral now might do untold damage. + +Shorty looked at Doble. "If tha's fire, Dug--" + +"It ain't. No chance," snapped the ex-foreman. "We'll travel if you don't +feel called on to go back an' stomp out the mist, Shorty," he added with +sarcasm. + +The cowpuncher took the trail again. Like many men, he was not proof +against a sneer. Dug was probably right, Shorty decided, and he did not +want to make a fool of himself. Doble would ride him with heavy jeers all +day. + +An hour later they rested their horses on the divide. To the west lay +Malapi and the plains. Eastward were the heaven-pricking peaks. A long, +bright line zig-zagged across the desert and reflected the sun rays. It +was the bed of the new road already spiked with shining rails. + +"I'm goin' to town," announced Doble. + +Shorty looked at him in surprise. "Wanta see yore picture, I reckon. It's +on a heap of telegraph poles, I been told," he said, grinning. + +"To-day," went on the ex-foreman stubbornly. + +"Big, raw-boned guy, hook nose, leather face, never took no prize as a +lady's man, a wildcat in a rough-house, an' sudden death on the draw," +extemporized the rustler, presumably from his conception of the reward +poster. + +"I'll lie in the chaparral till night an' ride in after dark." + +With the impulsiveness of his kind, Shorty fell in with the idea. He was +hungry for the fleshpots of Malapi. If they dropped in late at night, +stayed a few hours, and kept under cover, they could probably slip out of +town undetected. The recklessness of his nature found an appeal in the +danger. + +"Damfidon't trail along, Dug." + +"Yore say-so about that." + +"Like to see my own picture on the poles. Sawed-off li'l runt. Straight +black hair. Some bowlegged. Wears two guns real low. Doncha monkey with +him onless you're hell-a-mile with a six-shooter. One thousand dollars +reward for arrest and conviction. Same for the big guy." + +"Fellow that gets one o' them rewards will earn it," said Doble grimly. + +"Goes double," agreed Shorty. "He'll earn it even if he don't live to +spend it. Which he's liable not to." + +They headed their horses to the west. As they drew down from the +mountains they left the trail and took to the brush. They wound in and +out among the mesquite and the cactus, bearing gradually to the north and +into the foothills above the town. When they reached Frio Cañon they +swung off into a timbered pocket debouching from it. Here they unsaddled +and lay down to wait for night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +A PLEASANT EVENING + + +Brad Steelman sat hunched before a fire of piñon knots, head drooped low +between his high, narrow shoulders. The restless black eyes in the dark +hatchet face were sunk deeper now than in the old days. In them was +beginning to come the hunted look of the gray wolf he resembled. His +nerves were not what they had been, and even in his youth they were not +of the best. He had a way of looking back furtively over his shoulder, +as though some sinister shadow were creeping toward him out of the +darkness. + +Three taps on the window brought his head up with a jerk. His lax fingers +crept to the butt of a Colt's revolver. He waited, listening. + +The taps were repeated. + +Steelman sidled to the door and opened it cautiously. A man pushed in and +closed the door. He looked at the sheepman and he laughed shortly in an +ugly, jeering way. + +"Scared, Brad?" + +The host moistened his lips. "What of, Dug?" + +"Don't ask me," said the big man scornfully. "You always had about as +much sand in yore craw as a rabbit." + +"Did you come here to make trouble, Dug?" + +"No, I came to collect a bill." + +"So? Didn't know I owed you any money right now. How much is it?" + +Steelman, as the leader of his gang, was used to levies upon his purse +when his followers had gone broke. He judged that he would have to let +Doble have about twenty-five dollars now. + +"A thousand dollars." + +Brad shot a quick, sidelong look at him. "Wha's wrong now, Dug?" + +The ex-foreman of the D Bar Lazy R took his time to answer. He enjoyed +the suspense under which his ally was held. "Why, I reckon nothin' +a-tall. Only that this mo'nin' I put a match to about a coupla hundred +thousand dollars belongin' to Crawford, Sanders, and Hart." + +Eagerly Steelman clutched his arm. "You did it, then?" + +"Didn't I say I'd do it?" snapped Doble irritably. "D'ya ever know me rue +back on a bargain?" + +"Never." + +"Wha's more, you never will. I fired the chaparral above Bear Cañon. The +wind was right. Inside of twenty-four hours the Jackpot locations will go +up in smoke. Derricks, pumps, shacks, an' oil; the whole caboodle's +doomed sure as I'm a foot high." + +The face of the older man looked more wolfish than ever. He rubbed his +hands together, washing one over the other so that each in turn was +massaged. "Hell's bells! I'm sure glad to hear it. Fire got a good start, +you say?" + +"I tell you the whole country'll go up like powder." + +If Steelman had not just reached Malapi from a visit to one of his sheep +camps he would have known, what everybody else in town knew by this time, +that the range for fifty miles was in danger and that hundreds of +volunteers were out fighting the menace. + +His eyes glistened. "I'll not wear mournin' none if it does just that." + +"I'm tellin' you what it'll do," Doble insisted dogmatically. + +"Shorty with you?" + +"He was, an' he wasn't. I did it while he wasn't lookin'. He was saddlin' +his horse in the brush. Don't make any breaks to him. Shorty's got a soft +spot in him. Game enough, but with queer notions. Some time I'm liable to +have to--" Doble left his sentence suspended in air, but Steelman, +looking into his bleak eyes, knew what the man meant. + +"What's wrong with him now, Dug?" + +"Well, he's been wrong ever since I had to bump off Tim Harrigan. Talks +about a fair break. As if I had a chance to let the old man get to a gun. +No, I'm not so awful sure of Shorty." + +"Better watch him. If you see him make any false moves--" + +Doble watched him with a taunting, scornful eye. + +"What'll I do?" + +The other man's gaze fell. "Why, you got to protect yoreself, Dug, ain't +you?" + +"How?" + +The narrow shoulders lifted. For a moment the small black eyes met those +of the big man. + +"Whatever way seems best to you, Dug," murmured Steelman evasively. + +Doble slapped his dusty hat against his thigh. He laughed, without mirth +or geniality. "If you don't beat Old Nick, Brad. I wonder was you ever +out an' out straightforward in yore life. Just once?" + +"I don't reckon you sure enough feel that way, Dug," whined the older man +ingratiatingly. "Far as that goes, I'm not making any claims that I love +my enemies. But you can't say I throw off on my friends. You always know +where I'm at." + +"Sure I know," retorted Doble bluntly. "You're on the inside of a heap of +rotten deals. So am I. But I admit it and you won't." + +"Well, I don't look at it that way, but there's no use arguin'. What +about that fire? Sure it got a good start?" + +"I looked back from across the valley. It was travelin' good." + +"If the wind don't change, it will sure do a lot of damage to the +Jackpot. Liable to spoil some of Crawford's range too." + +"I'll take that thousand in cash, Brad," the big man said, letting +himself down into the easiest chair he could find and rolling a +cigarette. + +"Soon as I know it did the work, Dug." + +"I'm here tellin' you it will make a clean-up." + +"We'll know by mornin'. I haven't got the money with me anyhow. It's in +the bank." + +"Get it soon as you can. I expect to light out again pronto. This town's +onhealthy for me." + +"Where will you stay?" asked Brad. + +"With my friend Steelman," jeered Doble. "His invitation is so hearty I +just can't refuse him." + +"You'd be safer somewhere else," said the owner of the house after a +pause. + +"We'll risk that, me 'n' you both, for if I'm taken it's liable to be bad +luck for you too.... Gimme something to eat and drink." + +Steelman found a bottle of whiskey and a glass, then foraged for food in +the kitchen. He returned with the shank of a ham and a loaf of bread. His +fear was ill-disguised. The presence of the outlaw, if discovered, would +bring him trouble; and Doble was so unruly he might out of sheer ennui or +bravado let it be known he was there. + +"I'll get you the money first thing in the mornin'," promised Steelman. + +Doble poured himself a large drink and took it at a swallow. "I would, +Brad." + +"No use you puttin' yoreself in unnecessary danger." + +"Or you. Don't hand me my hat, Brad. I'll go when I'm ready." + +Doble drank steadily throughout the night. He was the kind of drinker +that can take an incredible amount of liquor without becoming helpless. +He remained steady on his feet, growing uglier and more reckless every +hour. + +Tied to Doble because he dared not break away from him, Steelman's busy +brain began to plot a way to take advantage of this man's weakness for +liquor. He sat across the table from him and adroitly stirred up his +hatred of Crawford and Sanders. He raked up every grudge his guest had +against the two men, calling to his mind how they had beaten him at every +turn. + +"O' course I know, Dug, you're a better man than Sanders or Crawford +either, but Malapi don't know it--yet. Down at the Gusher I hear they +laugh about that trick he played on you blowin' up the dam. Luck, I call +it, but--" + +"Laugh, do they?" growled the big man savagely. "I'd like to hear some o' +that laughin'." + +"Say this Sanders is a wonder; that nobody's got a chance against him. +That's the talk goin' round. I said any day in the week you had him beat +a mile, and they gave me the laugh." + +"I'll show 'em!" cried the enraged bully with a furious oath. + +"I'll bet you do. No man livin' can make a fool outa Dug Doble, rustle +the evidence to send him to the pen, snap his fingers at him, and on top +o' that steal his girl. That's what I told--" + +Doble leaned across the table and caught in his great fist the wrist of +Steelman. His bloodshot eyes glared into those of the man opposite. "What +girl?" he demanded hoarsely. + +Steelman looked blandly innocent. "Didn't you know, Dug? Maybe I ought +n't to 'a' mentioned it." + +Fingers like ropes of steel tightened on the wrist, Brad screamed. + +"Don't do that, Dug! You're killin' me! Ouch! Em Crawford's girl." + +"What about her and Sanders?" + +"Why, he's courtin' her--treatin' her to ice-cream, goin' walkin' with +her. Didn't you know?" + +"When did he begin?" Doble slammed a hamlike fist on the table. "Spit it +out, or I'll tear yore arm off." + +Steelman told all he knew and a good deal more. He invented details +calculated to infuriate his confederate, to inflame his jealousy. The big +man sat with jaw clamped, the muscles knotted like ropes on his leathery +face. He was a volcano of outraged vanity and furious hate, seething with +fires ready to erupt. + +"Some folks say it's Hart she's engaged to," purred the hatchet-faced +tempter. "Maybeso. Looks to me like she's throwin' down Hart for this +convict. Expect she sees he's gonna be a big man some day." + +"Big man! Who says so?" exploded Doble. + +"That's the word, Dug. I reckon you've heard how the Governor of Colorado +pardoned him. This town's crazy about Sanders. Claims he was framed for +the penitentiary. Right now he could be elected to any office he went +after." Steelman's restless black eyes watched furtively the effect of +his taunting on this man, a victim of wild and uncurbed passions. He was +egging him on to a rage that would throw away all caution and all +scruples. + +"He'll never live to run for office!" the cattleman cried hoarsely. + +"They talk him for sheriff. Say Applegate's no good--too easy-going. Say +Sanders'll round up you an' Shorty pronto when he's given authority." + +Doble ripped out a wild and explosive oath. He knew this man was playing +on his vanity, jealousy, and hatred for some purpose not yet apparent, +but he found it impossible to close his mind to the whisperings of the +plotter. He welcomed the spur of Steelman's two-edged tongue because he +wanted to have his purpose of vengeance fed. + +"Sanders never saw the day he could take me, dead or alive. I'll meet him +any time, any way, an' when I turn my back on him he'll be ready for the +coroner." + +"I believe you, Dug. No need to tell me you're not afraid of him, for--" + +"Afraid of him!" bellowed Doble, eyes like live coals. "Say that again +an' I'll twist yore head off." + +Steelman did not say it again. He pushed the bottle toward his guest and +said other things. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +FIRE IN THE CHAPARRAL + + +A carpenter working on the roof of a derrick for Jackpot Number Six +called down to his mates: + +"Fire in the hills, looks like. I see smoke." + +The contractor was an old-timer. He knew the danger of fire in the +chaparral at this season of the year. + +"Run over to Number Four and tell Crawford," he said to his small son. + +Crawford and Hart had just driven out from town. + +"I'll shag up the tower and have a look," the younger man said. + +He had with him no field-glasses, but his eyes were trained to +long-distance work. Years in the saddle on the range had made him an +expert at reading such news as the landscape had written on it. + +"Fire in Bear Cañon!" he shouted down. "Quite a bit of smoke risin'." + +"I'll ride right up and look it over," the cattleman called back. "Better +get a gang together to fight it, Bob. Hike up soon as you're ready." + +Crawford borrowed without permission of the owner the nearest saddle +horse and put it to a lope. Five minutes might make all the difference +between a winning and a losing fight. + +From the tower Hart descended swiftly. He gathered together all the +carpenters, drillers, enginemen, and tool dressers in the vicinity and +equipped them with shovels, picks, brush-hooks, saws, and axes. To each +one he gave also a gunnysack. + +The foot party followed Crawford into the chaparral, making for the hills +that led to Bear Cañon. A wind was stirring, and as they topped a rise it +struck hot on their cheeks. A flake of ash fell on Bob's hand. + +Crawford met them at the mouth of the cañon. + +"She's rip-r'arin', Bob! Got too big a start to beat out. We'll clear a +fire-break where the gulch narrows just above here and do our fightin' +there." + +The sparks of a thousand rockets, flung high by the wind, were swept down +the gulch toward them. Behind these came a curtain of black smoke. + +The cattleman set his crew to work clearing a wide trail across the gorge +from wall to wall. The undergrowth was heavy, and the men attacked with +brush-hooks, shovels, and axes. One man, with a wet gunnysack, was +detailed to see that no flying sparks started a new blaze below the +safety zone. The shovelers and grubbers cleared the grass and roots off +to the dirt for a belt of twenty feet. They banked the loose dirt at the +lower edge to catch flying firebrands. Meanwhile the breath of the +furnace grew to a steady heat on their faces. Flame spurts had leaped +forward to a grove of small alders and almost in a minute the branches +were crackling like fireworks. + +"I'll scout round over the hill and have a look above," Bob said. "We've +got to keep it from spreading out of the gulch." + +"Take the horse," Crawford called to him. + +One good thing was that the fire was coming down the cañon. A downhill +blaze moves less rapidly than one running up. + +Runners of flame, crawling like snakes among the brush, struck out at the +fighters venomously and tried to leap the trench. The defenders flailed +at these with the wet gunnysacks. + +The wind was stiffer now and the fury of the fire closer. The flames +roared down the cañon like a blast furnace. Driven back by the intense +heat, the men retreated across the break and clung to their line. Already +their lungs were sore from inhaling smoke and their throats were +inflamed. A pine, its pitchy trunk ablaze, crashed down across the +fire-trail and caught in the fork of a tree beyond. Instantly the foliage +leaped to red flame. + +Crawford, axe in hand, began to chop the trunk and a big Swede swung an +axe powerfully on the opposite side. The rest of the crew continued to +beat down the fires that started below the break. The chips flew at each +rhythmic stroke of the keen blades. Presently the tree crashed down into +the trail that had been hewn. It served as a conductor, and along it +tongues of fire leaped into the brush beyond. Glowing branches, flung by +the wind and hurled from falling timber, buried themselves in the dry +undergrowth. Before one blaze was crushed half a dozen others started in +its place. Flails and gunnysacks beat these down and smothered them. + +Bob galloped into the cañon and flung himself from the horse as he pulled +it up in its stride. + +"She's jumpin' outa the gulch above. Too late to head her off. We better +get scrapers up and run a trail along the top o' the ridge, don't you +reckon?" he said. + +"Yes, son," agreed Crawford. "We can just about hold her here. It'll be +hours before I can spare a man for the ridge. We got to get help in a +hurry. You ride to town and rustle men. Bring out plenty of dynamite +and gunnysacks. Lucky we got the tools out here we brought to build the +sump holes." + +"Betcha! We'll need a lot o' grub, too." + +The cattleman nodded agreement. "And coffee. Cayn't have too much coffee. +It's food and drink and helps keep the men awake." + +"I'll remember." + +"And for the love o' Heaven, don't forget canteens! Get every canteen in +town. Cayn't have my men runnin' around with their tongues hangin' out. +Better bring out a bunch of broncs to pack supplies around. It's goin' to +be one man-sized contract runnin' the commissary." + +The cañon above them was by this time a sea of fire, the most terrifying +sight Bob had ever looked upon. Monster flames leaped at the walls of the +gulch, swept in an eyebeat over draws, attacked with a savage roar the +dry vegetation. The noise was like the crash of mountains meeting. +Thunder could scarce have made itself heard. + +Rocks, loosened by the heat, tore down the steep incline of the walls, +sometimes singly, sometimes in slides. These hit the bed of the ravine +with the force of a cannon-ball. The workers had to keep a sharp lookout +for these. + +A man near Bob was standing with his weight on the shovel he had been +using. Hart gave a shout of warning. At the same moment a large rock +struck the handle and snapped it off as though it had been kindling wood. +The man wrung his hands and almost wept with the pain. + +A cottontail ran squealing past them, driven from its home by this new +and deadly enemy. Not far away a rattlesnake slid across the hot rocks. +Their common fear of man was lost in a greater and more immediate one. + +Hart did not like to leave the battle-field. "Lemme stay here. You can +handle that end of the job better'n me, Mr. Crawford." + +The old cattleman, his face streaked with black, looked at him from +bloodshot eyes. "Where do you get that notion I'll quit a job I've +started, son? You hit the trail. The sooner the quicker." + +The young man wasted no more words. He swung to the saddle and rode for +town faster than he had ever traveled in all his hard-riding days. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +FIGHTING FIRE + + +Sanders was in the office of the Jackpot Company looking over some +blue-prints when Joyce Crawford came in and inquired where her father +was. + +"He went out with Bob Hart to the oil field this morning. Some trouble +with the casing." + +"Thought Dad wasn't giving any of his time to oil these days," she said. +"He told me you and Bob were running the company." + +"Every once in a while he takes an interest. I prod him up to go out and +look things over occasionally. He's president of the company, and I tell +him he ought to know what's going on. So to-day he's out there." + +"Oh!" Miss Joyce, having learned what she had come in to find out, might +reasonably have departed. She declined a chair, said she must be going, +yet did not go. Her eyes appeared to study without seeing a field map on +the desk. "Dad told me something last night, Mr. Sanders. He said I might +pass it on to you and Bob, though it isn't to go farther. It's about that +ten thousand dollars he paid the bank when it called his loan. He got the +money from Buck Byington." + +"Buck!" exclaimed the young man. He was thinking that the Buck he used to +know never had ten dollars saved, let alone ten thousand. + +"I know," she explained. "That's it. The money wasn't his. He's executor +or something for the children of his dead brother. This money had come in +from the sale of a farm back in Iowa and he was waiting for an order of +the court for permission to invest it in a mortgage. When he heard Dad +was so desperately hard up for cash he let him have the money. He knew +Dad would pay it back, but it seems what he did was against the law, even +though Dad gave him his note and a chattel mortgage on some cattle which +Buck wasn't to record. Now it has been straightened out. That's why Dad +couldn't tell where he got the money. Buck would have been in trouble." + +"I see." + +"But now it's all right." Joyce changed the subject. There were teasing +pinpoints of mischief in her eyes. "My school physiology used to say that +sleep was restful. It builds up worn-out tissue and all. One of these +nights, when you can find time, give it a trial and see whether that's +true." + +Dave laughed. The mother in this young woman would persistently out. "I +get plenty of sleep, Miss Joyce. Most people sleep too much." + +"How much do you sleep?" + +"Sometimes more, sometimes less. I average six or seven hours, maybe." + +"Maybe," she scoffed. + +"Hard work doesn't hurt men. Not when they're young and strong." + +"I hear you're trying to work yourself to death, sir," the girl charged, +smiling. + +"Not so bad as that." He answered her smile with another for no reason +except that the world was a sunshiny one when he looked at this trim and +dainty young woman. "The work gets fascinating. A fellow likes to get +things done. There's a satisfaction in turning out a full day and in +feeling you get results." + +She nodded sagely, in a brisk, business-like way. "I know. Felt it myself +often, but we have to remember that there are other days and other people +to lend a hand. None of us can do it all. Dad thinks you overdo. So he +told me to ask you to supper for to-morrow night. Bob will be there too." + +"I say thanks, Miss Joyce, to your father and his daughter." + +"Which means you'll be with us to-morrow." + +"I'll be with you." + +But he was not. Even as he made the promise a shadow darkened the +doorsill and Bob Hart stepped into the office. + +His first words were ominous, but before he spoke both of those looking +at him knew he was the bearer of bad news. There was in his boyish face +an unwonted gravity. + +"Fire in the chaparral, Dave, and going strong." + +Sanders spoke one word. "Where?" + +"Started in Bear Cañon, but it's jumped out into the hills." + +"The wind must be driving it down toward the Jackpot!" + +"Yep. Like a scared rabbit. Crawford's trying to hold the mouth of the +cañon. He's got a man's job down there. Can't spare a soul to keep it +from scootin' over the hills." + +Dave rose. "I'll gather a bunch of men and ride right out. On what side +of the cañon is the fire running?" + +"East side. Stop at the wells and get tools. I got to rustle dynamite and +men. Be out soon as I can." + +They spoke quietly, quickly, decisively, as men of action do in a crisis. + +Joyce guessed the situation was a desperate one. "Is Dad in danger?" she +asked. + +Hart answered. "No--not now, anyhow." + +"What can I do to help?" + +"We'll have hundreds of men in the field probably, if this fire has a +real start," Dave told her. "We'll need food and coffee--lots of it. +Organize the women. Make meat sandwiches--hundreds of them. And send +out to the Jackpot dozens of coffee-pots. Your job is to keep the workers +well fed. Better send out bandages and salve, in case some get burnt." + +Her eyes were shining. "I'll see to all that. Don't worry, boys. You +fight this fire, and we women will 'tend to feeding you." + +Dave nodded and strode out of the room. During the fierce and dreadful +days that followed one memory more than once came to him in the fury of +the battle. It was a slim, straight girl looking at him, the call to +service stamped on her brave, uplifted face. + +Sanders was on the road inside of twenty minutes, a group of horsemen +galloping at his heels. At the Jackpot locations the fire-fighters +equipped themselves with shovels, sacks, axes, and brush-hooks. The +party, still on horseback, rode up to the mouth of Bear Cañon. Through +the smoke the sun was blood-red. The air was heavy and heated. + +From the fire line Crawford came to meet these new allies. "We're holdin' +her here. It's been nip an' tuck. Once I thought sure she'd break +through, but we beat out the blaze. I hadn't time to go look, but I +expect she's just a-r'arin' over the hills. I've had some teams and +scrapers taken up there, Dave. It's yore job. Go to it." + +The old cattleman showed that he had been through a fight. His eyes were +red and inflamed, his face streaked with black, one arm of his shirt half +torn from the shoulder. But he wore the grim look of a man who has just +begun to set himself for a struggle. + +The horsemen swung to the east and rode up to the mesa which lies between +Bear and Cattle Cañons. It was impossible to get near Bear, since the +imprisoned fury had burst from its walls and was sweeping the chaparral. +The line of fire was running along the level in an irregular, ragged +front, red tongues leaping ahead with short, furious rushes. + +Even before he could spend time to determine the extent of the fire, Dave +selected his line of defense, a ridge of rocky, higher ground cutting +across from one gulch to the other. Here he set teams to work scraping +a fire-break, while men assisted with shovels and brush-hooks to clear +a wide path. + +Dave swung still farther east and rode along the edge of Cattle Cañon. +Narrow and rock-lined, the gorge was like a boiler flue to suck the +flames down it. From where he sat he saw it caging with inconceivable +fury. The earth rift seemed to be roofed with flame. Great billows +of black smoke poured out laden with sparks and live coals carried by the +wind. It was plain at the first glance that the fire was bound to leap +from the cañon to the brush-covered hills beyond. His business now was +to hold the ridge he had chosen and fight back the flames to keep them +from pouring down upon the Jackpot property. Later the battle would have +to be fought to hold the line at San Jacinto Cañon and the hills running +down from it to the plains. + +The surface fire on the hills licked up the brush, mesquite, and young +cedars with amazing rapidity. If his trail-break was built in time, Dave +meant to back-fire above it. Steve Russell was one of his party. Sanders +appointed him lieutenant and went over the ground with him to decide +exactly where the clearing should run, after which he galloped back to +the mouth of Bear. + +"She's running wild on the hills and in Cattle Cañon," Dave told +Crawford. "She'll sure jump Cattle and reach San Jacinto. We've got to +hold the mouth of Cattle, build a trail between Bear and Cattle, another +between Cattle and San Jacinto, cork her up in San Jacinto, and keep her +from jumping to the hills beyond." + +"Can we back-fire, do you reckon?" + +"Not with the wind there is above, unless we have check-trails built +first. We need several hundred more men, and we need them right away. I +never saw such a fire before." + +"Well, get yore trail built. Bob oughtta be out soon. I'll put him over +between Cattle and San Jacinto. Three-four men can hold her here now. +I'll move my outfit over to the mouth of Cattle." + +The cattleman spoke crisply and decisively. He had been fighting fire for +six hours without a moment's rest, swallowing smoke-filled air, enduring +the blistering heat that poured steadily at them down the gorge. At least +two of his men were lying down completely exhausted, but he contemplated +another such desperate battle without turning a hair. All his days he had +been a good fighter, and it never occurred to him to quit now. + +Sanders rode up as close to the west edge of Bear Cañon as he could +endure. In two or three places the flames had jumped the wall and were +trying to make headway in the scant underbrush of the rocky slope +that led to a hogback surmounted by a bare rimrock running to the summit. +This natural barrier would block the fire on the west, just as the +burnt-over area would protect the north. For the present at least the +fire-fighters could confine their efforts to the south and east, where +the spread of the blaze would involve the Jackpot. A shift in the wind +would change the situation, and if it came in time would probably save +the oil property. + +Dave put his horse to a lope and rode back to the trench and trail his +men were building. He found a shovel and joined them. + +From out of Cattle Cañon billows of smoke rolled across the hill and +settled into a black blanket above the men. This was acrid from the +resinous pitch of the pines. The wind caught the dark pall, drove it low, +and held it there till the workers could hardly breathe. The sun was +under entire eclipse behind the smoke screen. + +The heat of the flames tortured Dave's face and hands, just as the +smoke-filled air inflamed his nostrils and throat. Coals of fire pelted +him from the river of flame, carried by the strong breeze blowing down. +From the cañons on either side of the workers came a steady roar of a +world afire. Occasionally, at some slight shift of the wind, the smoke +lifted and they could see the moving wall of fire bearing down upon them, +wedges of it far ahead of the main line. + +The movements of the workers became automatic. The teams had to be +removed because the horses had become unmanageable under the torture of +the heat. When any one spoke it was in a hoarse whisper because of a +swollen larynx. Mechanically they dug, shoveled, grubbed, handkerchiefs +over their faces to protect from the furnace glow. + +A deer with two fawns emerged from the smoke and flew past on the way to +safety. Mice, snakes, rabbits, birds, and other desert denizens appeared +in mad flight. They paid no attention whatever to their natural foe, man. +The terror of the red monster at their heels wholly obsessed them. + +The fire-break was from fifteen to twenty feet wide. The men retreated +back of it, driven by the heat, and fought with wet sacks to hold the +enemy. A flash of lightning was hurled against Dave. It was a red-hot +limb of a pine, tossed out of the gorge by the stiff wind. He flung it +from him and tore the burning shirt from his chest. An agony of pain shot +through his shoulder, seared for half a foot by the blazing branch. + +He had no time to attend to the burn then. The fire had leaped the +check-trail at a dozen points. With his men he tried to smother the +flames in the grass by using saddle blankets and gunnysacks, as well +as by shoveling sand upon it. Sometimes they cut down the smouldering +brush and flung it back across the break into the inferno on the other +side. Blinded and strangling from the smoke, the fire-fighters would make +short rushes into the clearer air, swallow a breath or two of it, and +plunge once more into the line to do battle with the foe. + +For hours the desperate battle went on. Dave lost count of time. One +after another of his men retreated to rest. After a time they drifted +back to help make the defense good against the plunging fire devil. +Sanders alone refused to retire. His parched eyebrows were half gone. +His clothes hung about him in shredded rags. He was so exhausted that he +could hardly wield a flail. His legs dragged and his arms hung heavy. But +he would not give up even for an hour. Through the confused, shifting +darkness of the night he led his band, silhouetted on the ridge like +gnomes of the nether world, to attack after attack on the tireless, +creeping, plunging flames that leaped the trench in a hundred desperate +assaults, that howled and hissed and roared like ravenous beasts of prey. + +Before the light of day broke he knew that he had won. His men had made +good the check-trail that held back the fire in the terrain between Bear +and Cattle Cañons. The fire, worn out and beaten, fell back for lack of +fuel upon which to feed. + +Reinforcements came from town. Dave left the trail in charge of a deputy +and staggered down with his men to the camp that had been improvised +below. He sat down with them and swallowed coffee and ate sandwiches. +Steve Russell dressed his burn with salve and bandages sent out by Joyce. + +"Me for the hay, Dave," the cowpuncher said when he had finished. He +stretched himself in a long, tired, luxurious yawn. "I've rid out a +blizzard and I've gathered cattle after a stampede till I 'most thought +I'd drop outa the saddle. But I give it to this here li'l' fire. It's +sure enough a stemwinder. I'm beat. So long, pardner." + +Russell went off to roll himself up in his blanket. + +Dave envied him, but he could not do the same. His responsibilities were +not ended yet. He found his horse in the remuda, saddled, and rode over +to the entrance to Cattle Cañon. + +Emerson Crawford was holding his ground, though barely holding it. He too +was grimy, fire-blackened, exhausted, but he was still fighting to throw +back the fire that swept down the cañon at him. + +"How are things up above?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. + +"Good. We held the check-line." + +"Same here so far. It's been hell. Several of my boys fainted." + +"I'll take charge awhile. You go and get some sleep," urged Sanders. + +The cattleman shook his head. "No. See it through. Say, son, look who's +here!" His thumb hitched toward his right shoulder. + +Dave looked down the line of blackened, grimy fire-fighters and his eye +fell on Shorty. He was still wearing chaps, but his Chihuahua hat had +succumbed long ago. Manifestly the man had been on the fighting line for +some hours. + +"Doesn't he know about the reward?" + +"Yes. He was hidin' in Malapi when the call came for men. Says he's no +quitter, whatever else he is. You bet he ain't. He's worth two of most +men at this work. Soon as we get through he'll be on the dodge again, I +reckon, unless Applegate gets him first. He's a good sport, anyhow. I'll +say that for him." + +"I reckon I'm a bad citizen, sir, but I hope he makes his getaway before +Applegate shows up." + +"Well, he's one tough scalawag, but I don't aim to give him away right +now. Shorty is a whole lot better proposition than Dug Doble." + +Dave came back to the order of the day. "What do you want me to do now?" + +The cattleman looked him over. "You damaged much?" + +"No." + +"Burnt in the shoulder, I see." + +"Won't keep me from swinging a sack and bossing a gang." + +"Wore out, I reckon?" + +"I feel fine since breakfast--took two cups of strong coffee." + +Again Crawford's eyes traveled over his ally. They saw a ragged, red-eyed +tramp, face and hands and arms blackened with char and grimed with smoke. +Outside, he was such a specimen of humanity as the police would have +arrested promptly on suspicion. But the shrewd eyes of the cattleman saw +more--a spirit indomitable that would drive the weary, tormented body +till it dropped in its tracks, a quality of leadership that was a trumpet +call to the men who served with him, a soul master of its infirmities. +His heart went out to the young fellow. Wherefore he grinned and gave him +another job. Strong men to-day were at a premium with Emerson Crawford. + +"Ride over and see how Bob's comin' out. We'll make it here." + +Sanders swung to the saddle and moved forward to the next fire front, +the one between Cattle and San Jacinto Cañons. Hart himself was not here. +There had come a call for help from the man in charge of the gang trying +to hold the fire in San Jacinto. He had answered that summons long before +daybreak and had not yet returned. + +The situation on the Cattle-San Jacinto front was not encouraging. The +distance to be protected was nearly a mile. Part of the way was along a +ridge fairly easy to defend, but a good deal of it lay in lower land of +timber and heavy brush. + +Dave rode along the front, studying the contour of the country and the +chance of defending it. His judgment was that it could not be done with +the men on hand. He was not sure that the line could be held even with +reinforcements. But there was nothing for it but to try. He sent a man to +Crawford, urging him to get help to him as soon as possible. + +Then he took command of the crew already in the field, rearranged the men +so as to put the larger part of his force in the most dangerous locality, +and in default of a sack seized a spreading branch as a flail to beat out +fire in the high grass close to San Jacinto. + +An hour later half a dozen straggling men reported for duty. Shorty was +one of them. + +"The ol' man cayn't spare any more," the rustler explained. "He had to +hustle Steve and his gang outa their blankets to go help Bob Hart. They +say Hart's in a heluva bad way. The fire's jumped the trail-check and +is spreadin' over the country. He's runnin' another trail farther back." + +It occurred to Dave that if the wind changed suddenly and heightened, it +would sweep a back-fire round him and cut off the retreat of his crew. He +sent a weary lad back to keep watch on it and report any change of +direction in that vicinity. + +After which he forgot all about chances of danger from the rear. His +hands and mind were more than busy trying to drive back the snarling, +ravenous beast in front of him. He might have found time to take other +precautions if he had known that the exhausted boy sent to watch against +a back-fire had, with the coming of night, fallen asleep in a draw. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +SHORTY ASKS A QUESTION + + +When Shorty separated from Doble in Frio Cañon he rode inconspicuously to +a tendejon where he could be snugly hidden from the public gaze and yet +meet a few "pals" whom he could trust at least as long as he could keep +his eyes on them. His intention was to have a good time in the only way +he knew how. Another purpose was coupled with this; he was not going to +drink enough to interfere with reasonable caution. + +Shorty's dissipated pleasures were interfered with shortly after +midnight. A Mexican came in to the drinking-place with news. The world +was on fire, at least that part of it which interested the cattlemen of +the Malapi district. The blaze had started back of Bear Cañon and had +been swept by the wind across to Cattle and San Jacinto. The oil field +adjacent had been licked up and every reservoir and sump was in flames. +The whole range would probably be wiped out before the fire spent itself +for lack of fuel. Crawford had posted a rider to town calling for more +man power to build trails and wield flails. This was the sum of the news. +It was not strictly accurate, but it served to rouse Shorty at once. + +He rose and touched the Mexican on the arm. "Where you say that fire +started, Pedro?" + +"Bear Cañon, señor." + +"And it's crossed San Jacinto?" + +"Like wildfire." The slim vaquero made a gesture all-inclusive. "It runs, +señor, like a frightened jackrabbit. Nothing will stop it--nothing. It +iss sent by heaven for a punishment." + +"Hmp!" Shorty grunted. + +The rustler fell into a somber silence. He drank no more. The dark-lashed +eyes of the Mexican girls slanted his way in vain. He stared sullenly at +the table in front of him. A problem had pushed itself into his +consciousness, one he could not brush aside or ignore. + +If the fire had started back of Bear Cañon, what agency had set it going? +He and Doble had camped last night at that very spot. If there had been a +fire there during the night he must have known it. Then when had the fire +started? And how? They had seen the faint smoke of it as they rode away, +the filmy smoke of a young fire not yet under much headway. Was it +reasonable to suppose that some one else had been camping close to them? +This was possible, but not likely. For they would probably have seen +signs of the other evening camp-fire. + +Eliminating this possibility, there remained--Dug Doble. Had Dug fired +the brush while his companion was saddling for the start? The more Shorty +considered this possibility, the greater force it acquired in his mind. +Dug's hatred of Crawford, Hart, and especially Sanders would be satiated +in part at least if he could wipe their oil bonanza from the map. The +wind had been right. Doble was no fool. He knew that if the fire ran wild +in the chaparral only a miracle could save the Jackpot reservoirs and +plant from destruction. + +Other evidence accumulated. Cryptic remarks of Doble made during the +day. His anxiety to see Steelman immediately. A certain manner of +ill-repressed triumph whenever he mentioned Sanders or Crawford. These +bolstered Shorty's growing opinion that the man had deliberately fired +the chaparral from a spirit of revenge. + +Shorty was an outlaw and a bad man. He had killed, and might at any time +kill again. To save the Jackpot from destruction he would not have made a +turn of the hand. But Shorty was a cattleman. He had been brought up in +the saddle and had known the whine of the lariat and the dust of the drag +drive all his days. Every man has his code. Three things stood out in +that of Shorty. He was loyal to the hand that paid him, he stood by his +pals, and he believed in and after his own fashion loved cattle and the +life of which they were the central fact. To destroy the range feed +wantonly was a crime so nefarious that he could not believe Doble guilty +of it. And yet-- + +He could not let the matter lie in doubt. He left the tendejon and rode +to Steelman's house. Before entering he examined carefully both of his +long-barreled forty-fives. He made sure that the six-shooters were in +perfect order and that they rested free in the holsters. That sixth sense +acquired by "bad men," by means of which they sniff danger when it is +close, was telling him that smoke would rise before he left the house. + +He stepped to the porch and knocked. There came a moment's silence, a +low-pitched murmur of whispering voices carried through an open window, +the shuffling of feet. The door was opened by Brad Steelman. He was alone +in the room. + +"Where's Dug?" asked Shorty bluntly. + +"Why, Dug--why, he's here, Shorty. Didn't know it was you. 'Lowed it +might be some one else. So he stepped into another room." + +The short cowpuncher walked in and closed the door behind him. He stood +with his back to it, facing the other door of the room. + +"Did you hire Dug to fire the chaparral?" he asked, his voice ominously +quiet. + +A flicker of fear shot to the eyes of the oil promoter. He recognized +signs of peril and his heart was drenched with an icy chill. Shorty was +going to turn on him, had become a menace. + +"I--I dunno what you mean," he quavered. "I'll call Dug if you wanta see +him." He began to shuffle toward the inner room. + +"Hold yore hawsses, Brad. I asked you a question." The cold eyes of the +gunman bored into those of the other man. "Howcome you to hire Dug to +burn the range?" + +"You know I wouldn't do that," the older man whined. "I got sheep, ain't +I? Wouldn't be reasonable I'd destroy their feed. No, you got a wrong +notion about--" + +"Yore sheep ain't on the south slope range." Shorty's mind had moved +forward one notch toward certainty. Steelman's manner was that of a man +dodging the issue. It carried no conviction of innocence. "How much you +payin' him?" + +The door of the inner room opened. Dug Doble's big frame filled the +entrance. The eyes of the two gunmen searched each other. Those of Doble +asked a question. Had it come to a showdown? Steelman sidled over to +the desk where he worked and sat down in front of it. His right hand +dropped into an open drawer, apparently carelessly and without intent. + +Shorty knew at once that Doble had been drinking heavily. The man was +morose and sullen. His color was high. Plainly he was primed for a +killing if trouble came. + +"Lookin' for me, Shorty?" he asked. + +"You fired Bear Cañon," charged the cowpuncher. + +"So?" + +"When I went to saddle." + +Doble's eyes narrowed. "You aimin' to run my business, Shorty?" + +Neither man lifted his gaze from the other. Each knew that the test had +come once more. They were both men who had "gone bad," in the current +phrase of the community. Both had killed. Both searched now for an +advantage in that steady duel of the eyes. Neither had any fear. The +emotions that dominated were cold rage and caution. Every sense and nerve +in each focalized to one purpose--to kill without being killed. + +"When yore's is mine, Dug." + +"Is this yore's?" + +"Sure is. I've stood for a heap from you. I've let yore ugly temper ride +me. When you killed Tim Harrigan you got me in bad. Not the first time +either. But I'm damned if I'll ride with a coyote low-down enough to burn +the range." + +"No?" + +"No." + +From the desk came the sharp angry bark of a revolver. Shorty felt his +hat lift as a bullet tore through the rim. His eyes swept to Steelman, +who had been a negligible factor in his calculations. The man fired again +and blew out the light. In the darkness Shorty swept out both guns and +fired. His first two shots were directed toward the man behind the desk, +the next two at the spot where Doble had been standing. Another gun was +booming in the room, perhaps two. Yellow fire flashes ripped the +blackness. + +Shorty whipped open the door at his back, slid through it, and kicked it +shut with his foot as he leaped from the porch. At the same moment he +thought he heard a groan. + +Swiftly he ran to the cottonwood where he had left his horse tied. He +jerked loose the knot, swung to the saddle, and galloped out of town. + +The drumming of hoofs came down the wind to a young fellow returning from +a late call on his sweetheart. He wondered who was in such a hurry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +DUG DOBLE RIDES INTO THE HILLS + + +The booming of the guns died down. The acrid smoke that filled the room +lifted to shredded strata. A man's deep breathing was the only sound in +the heavy darkness. + +Presently came a soft footfall of some one moving cautiously. A match +flared. A hand cupped the flame for an instant to steady it before the +match moved toward the wick of a kerosene lamp. + +Dug Doble's first thought was for his own safety. The house door was +closed, the window blinds were down. He had heard the beat of hoofs die +away on the road. But he did not intend to be caught by a trick. He +stepped forward, locked the door, and made sure the blinds were offering +no cracks of light. Satisfied that all was well, he turned to the figure +sprawled on the floor with outflung arms. + +"Dead as a stuck shote," he said callously after he had turned the body +over. "Got him plumb through the forehead--in the dark, too. Some +shootin', Shorty." + +He stood looking down at the face of the man whose brain had spun so +many cobwebs of deceit and treachery. Even in death it had none of that +dignity which sometimes is lent to those whose lives have been full of +meanness and guile. But though Doble looked at his late ally, he was not +thinking about him. He was mapping out his future course of action. + +If any one had heard the shots and he were found here now, no jury on +earth could be convinced that he had not killed Steelman. His six-shooter +still gave forth a faint trickle of smoke. An examination would show that +three shots had been fired from it. + +He must get away from the place at once. + +Doble poured himself half a tumbler of whiskey and drank it neat. Yes, he +must go, but he might as well take with him any money Steelman had in the +safe. The dead man owed him a thousand dollars he would never be able to +collect in any other way. + +He stooped and examined the pockets of the still figure. A bunch of keys +rewarded him. An old-fashioned safe stood in the corner back of the desk. +Doble stooped in front of it, then waited for an instant to make sure +nobody was coming. He fell to work, trying the keys one after another. + +A key fitted. He turned it and swung open the door. The killer drew out +bundles of papers and glanced through them hurriedly. Deeds, mortgages, +oil stocks, old receipts: he wanted none of these, and tossed them to the +floor as soon as he discovered there were no banknotes among them. +Compartment after compartment he rifled. Behind a package of abstracts he +found a bunch of greenbacks tied together by a rubber band at each end. +The first bill showed that the denomination was fifty dollars. Doble +investigated no farther. He thrust the bulky package into his inside coat +pocket and rose. + +Again he listened. No sound broke the stillness of the night. The silence +got on his nerves. He took another big drink and decided it was time to +go. + +He blew out the light and once more listened. The lifeless body of his +ally lying within touch of his foot did not disturb the outlaw. He had +not killed him, and if he had it would have made no difference. Very +softly for a large man, he passed to the inner room and toward the back +door. He deflected his course to a cupboard where he knew Steelman kept +liquor and from a shelf helped himself to an unbroken quart bottle of +bourbon. He knew himself well enough to know that during the next +twenty-four hours he would want whiskey badly. + +Slowly he unlocked and opened the back door. His eyes searched the yard +and the open beyond to make sure that neither his enemy nor a sheriff's +posse was lurking in the brush for him. He crept out to the stable, +revolver in hand. Here he saddled in the dark, deftly and rapidly, +thrusting the bottle of whiskey into one of the pockets of the +saddlebags. Leading the horse out into the mesquite, he swung to the +saddle and rode away. + +He was still in the saddle when the peaks above caught the morning sun +glow in a shaft of golden light. Far up in the gulches the new fallen +snow reflected the dawn's pink. + +In a pocket of the hills Doble unsaddled. He hobbled his horse and turned +it loose to graze while he lay down under a pine with the bottle for a +companion. + +The man had always had a difficult temper. This had grown on him and been +responsible largely for his decline in life. It had been no part of his +plan to "go bad." There had been a time when he had been headed for +success in the community. He had held men's respect, even though they had +not liked him. Then, somehow, he had turned the wrong corner and been +unable to retrace his steps. + +He could even put a finger on the time he had commenced to slip. It had +begun when he had quarreled with Emerson Crawford about his daughter +Joyce. Shorty and he had done some brand-burning through a wet blanket. +But he had not gone so far that a return to respectability was +impossible. A little rustling on the quiet, with no evidence to fasten +it on one, was nothing to bar a man from society. He had gone more +definitely wrong after Sanders came back to Malapi. The young ex-convict, +he chose to think, was responsible for the circumstances that made of him +an outlaw. Crawford and Sanders together had exposed him and driven him +from the haunts of men to the hills. He hated them both with a bitter, +morose virulence his soul could not escape. + +Throughout the day he continued to drink. This gave him no refuge from +himself. He still brooded in the inferno of his own thought-circle. It is +possible that a touch of madness had begun to affect his brain. Certainly +his subsequent actions would seem to bear out this theory. + +Revenge! The thought of it spurred him every waking hour, roweling his +wounded pride cruelly. There was a way within reach of his hand, one +suggested by Steelman's whisperings, though never openly advocated by +the sheepman. The jealousy of the man urged him to it, and his consuming +vanity persuaded him that out of evil might come good. He could make the +girl love him. So her punishment would bring her joy in the end. As for +Crawford and Sanders, his success would be such bitter medicine to them +that time would never wear away the taste of it. + +At dusk he rose and resaddled. Under the stars he rode back to Malapi. He +knew exactly what he meant to do and how he meant to do it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +THE TUNNEL + + +Dave knew no rest that night. He patrolled his line from San Jacinto to +Cattle and back again, stopping always to lend a hand where the attack +was most furious. The men of his crew were weary to exhaustion, but the +pressure of the fire was so great that they dared not leave the front. +As soon as one blaze was beaten out, another started. A shower of sparks +close to Cattle Cañon swept over the ridge and set the thick grass afire. +This was smothered with saddle blankets and with sand and dirt thrown +from shovels. + +Nearer to San Jacinto Cañon the danger was more acute. Dave did not dare +back-fire on account of the wind. He dynamited the timber to make a +trail-break against the howling, roaring wall of fire plunging forward. + +As soon as the flames seized the timber the heat grew more intense. The +sound of falling trees as they crashed down marked the progress of the +fire. The men retreated, staggering with exhaustion, hands and faces +flayed, eyes inflamed and blinded by the black smoke that rolled over +them. + +A stiff wind was blowing, but it was no longer a steady one. Sometimes it +bore from the northeast; again in a cross-current almost directly from +the east. The smoke poured in, swirling round them till they scarce knew +one direction from another. + +The dense cloud lifted for a moment, swept away by an air current. To the +fire-fighters that glimpse of the landscape told an appalling fact. The +demon had escaped below from San Jacinto Cañon and been swept westward by +a slant of wind with the speed of an express train. They were trapped by +the back-fire in a labyrinth from which there appeared no escape. Every +path of exit was blocked. The flames had leaped from hilltop to hilltop. + +The men gathered together to consult. Many of them were on the verge of +panic. + +Dave spoke quietly. "We've got a chance if we keep our heads. There's an +old mining tunnel hereabouts. Follow me, and stay together." + +He plunged into the heavy smoke that had fallen about them again, working +his way by instinct rather than by sight. Twice he stopped, to make sure +that his men were all at heel. Several times he left them, diving into +the smoke to determine which way they must go. + +The dry, salt crackle of a dead pine close at hand would have told him, +even if the oppressive heat had not, that the fire would presently sweep +over the ground where they stood. He drew the men steadily toward Cattle +Cañon. + +In that furious, murk-filled world he could not be sure he was moving in +the right direction, though the slope of the ground led him to think so. +Falling trees crashed about them. The men staggered on in the uncanny +light which tinged even the smoke. + +Dave stopped and gave sharp, crisp orders. His voice was even and steady. +"Must be close to it now. Lie back of these down trees with your faces +close to the ground. I'll be back in a minute. Shorty, you're boss of the +crew while I'm away." + +"You're gonna leave us to roast," a man accused, in a voice that was half +a scream. + +Sanders did not stop to answer him, but Shorty took the hysterical man in +hand. "Git down by that log pronto or I'll bore a hole in you. Ain't you +got sense enough to see he'll save us if there's a chance?" + +The man fell trembling to the ground. + +"Two men behind each log," ordered Shorty. "If yore clothes git afire, +help each other put it out." + +They lay down and waited while the fire swept above and around them. +Fortunately the woods here were not dense. Men prayed or cursed or wept, +according to their natures. The logs in front of some of them caught +fire and spread to their clothing. Shorty's voice encouraged them. + +"Stick it out, boys. He'll be back if he's alive." + +It could have been only minutes, but it seemed hours before the voice of +Sanders rang out above the fury of the blast. + +"All up! I've found the tunnel! Step lively now!" + +They staggered after their leader, Shorty bringing up the rear to see +that none collapsed by the way. The line moved drunkenly forward. Now and +again a man went down, overcome by the smoke and heat. With brutal kicks +Shorty drove him to his feet again. + +The tunnel was a shallow one in a hillside. Dave stood aside and counted +the men as they passed in. Two were missing. He ran along the back trail, +dense with smoke from the approaching flames, and stumbled into a man. It +was Shorty. He was dragging with him the body of a man who had fainted. +Sanders seized an arm and together they managed to get the unconscious +victim to the tunnel. + +Dave was the last man in. He learned from the men in the rear that the +tunnel had no drift. The floor was moist and there was a small seepage +spring in it near the entrance. + +Some of the men protested at staying. + +"The fire'll lick in and burn us out like rats," one man urged. "This +ain't no protection. We've just walked into a trap. I'll take my chance +outside." + +Dave reached forward and lifted one of Shorty's guns from its holster. +"You'll stay right here, Dillon. We didn't make it one minute too soon. +The whole hill out there's roaring." + +"I'll take my chance out there. That's my lookout," said the man, moving +toward the entrance. + +"No. You'll stay here." Dave's hard, chill gaze swept over his crew. +Several of them were backing Dillon and others were wavering. "It's your +only chance, and I'm here to see you take it. Don't take another step." + +Dillon took one, and went crumpling to the granite floor before +Dave could move. Shorty had knocked him down with the butt of his +nine-inch-barrel revolver. + +Already smoke was filling the cave. The fire had raced to its mouth and +was licking in with long, red, hungry tongues. The tunnel timbers were +smouldering. + +"Lie down and breathe the air close to the ground," ordered Dave, just as +though a mutiny had not been quelled a moment before. "Stay down there. +Don't get up." + +He found an old tomato can and used it to throw water from the +seep-spring upon the burning wood. Shorty and one or two of the other men +helped him. The heat near the mouth was so intense they could not stand +it. All but Sanders collapsed and staggered back to sink down to the +fresher air below. + +Their place of refuge packed with smoke. A tree crashed down at the mouth +and presently a second one. These, blazing, sent more heat in to cook the +tortured men inside. In that bakehouse of hell men showed again their +nature, cursing, praying, storming, or weeping as they lay. + +The prospect hole became a madhouse. A big Hungarian, crazed by the +torment he was enduring, leaped to his feet and made for the blazing hill +outside. + +"Back there!" Dave shouted hoarsely. + +The big fellow rushed him. His leader flung him back against the rock +wall. He rushed again, screaming in crazed anger. Sanders struck him down +with the long barrel of the forty-five. The Hungarian lay where he fell +for a few minutes, then crawled back from the mouth of the pit. + +At intervals others tried to break out and were driven back. + +Dave's eyebrows crisped away. He could scarcely draw a breath through his +inflamed throat. His eyes were swollen and almost blinded with smoke. His +lungs ached. Whenever he took a step he staggered. But he stuck to his +job hardily. The tomato can moved more jerkily. It carried less water. +But it still continued to drench the blazing timbers at the mouth of the +tunnel. + +So Dave held the tunnel entrance against the fire and against his own +racked and tortured men. Occasionally he lay down to breathe the air +close to the floor. There was no circulation, for the tunnel ended in a +wall face. But the smoke was not so heavy close to the ground. + +Man after man succumbed to the stupor of unconsciousness. Men choked, +strangled, and even died while their leader, his hair burnt and his eyes +almost sightless, face and body raw with agonizing wounds, crept feebly +about his business of saving their lives. + +Fire-crisped and exhausted, he dropped down at last into forgetfulness of +pain. And the flames, which had fought with such savage fury to blot out +the little group of men, fell back sullenly in defeat. They had spent +themselves and could do no more. + +The line of fire had passed over them. It left charred trees still +burning, a hillside black and smoking, desolation and ruin in its path. + +Out of the prospect hole a man crawled over Dave's prostrate body. He +drew a breath of sweet, delicious air. A cool wind lifted the hair from +his forehead. He tried to give a cowpuncher's yell of joy. From out of +his throat came only a cracked and raucous rumble. The man was Shorty. + +He crept back into the tunnel and whispered hoarsely the good news. Men +came out on all fours over the bodies of those who could not move. Shorty +dragged Dave into the open. He was a sorry sight. The shirt had been +almost literally burned from his body. + +In the fresh air the men revived quickly. They went back into the cavern +and dragged out those of their companions not yet able to help +themselves. Three out of the twenty-nine would never help themselves +again. They had perished in the tunnel. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +A MESSAGE + + +The women of Malapi responded generously to the call Joyce made upon them +to back their men in the fight against the fire in the chaparral. They +were simple folk of a generation not far removed from the pioneer one +which had settled the country. Some of them had come across the plains in +white-topped movers' wagons. Others had lain awake in anxiety on account +of raiding Indians on the war-path. All had lived lives of frugal +usefulness. It is characteristic of the frontier that its inhabitants +help each other without stint when the need for service arises. Now they +cooked and baked cheerfully to supply the wants of the fire-fighters. + +Joyce was in command of the commissary department. She ordered and issued +supplies, checked up the cooked food, and arranged for its transportation +to the field of battle. The first shipment went out about the middle of +the afternoon of the first day of the fire. A second one left town just +after midnight. A third was being packed during the forenoon of the +second day. + +Though Joyce had been up most of the night, she showed no signs of +fatigue. In spite of her slenderness, the girl was possessed of a fine +animal vigor. There was vitality in her crisp tread. She was a decisive +young woman who got results competently. + +A bustling old lady with the glow of winter apples in her wrinkled cheeks +remonstrated with her. + +"You can't do it all, dearie. If I was you I'd go home and rest now. Take +a nice long nap and you'll feel real fresh," she said. + +"I'm not tired," replied Joyce. "Not a bit. Think of those poor men out +there fighting the fire day and night. I'd be ashamed to quit." + +The old lady's eyes admired the clean, fragrant girl packing sandwiches. +She sighed, regretfully. Not long since--as her memory measured time--she +too had boasted a clear white skin that flushed to a becoming pink on her +smooth cheeks when occasion called. + +"A--well a--well, dearie, you'll never be young but once. Make ye the +most of it," she said, a dream in her faded eyes. + +Out of the heart of the girl a full-throated laugh welled. "I'll do just +that, Auntie. Then I'll grow some day into a nice old lady like you." +Joyce recurred to business in a matter-of-fact voice. "How many more +of the ham sandwiches are there, Mrs. Kent?" + +About sunset Joyce went home to see that Keith was behaving properly and +snatched two hours' sleep while she could. Another shipment of food had +to be sent out that night and she did not expect to get to bed till well +into the small hours. + +Keith was on hand when she awakened to beg for permission to go out to +the fire. + +"I'll carry water, Joy, to the men. Some one's got to carry it, ain't +they, 'n' if I don't mebbe a man'll haf to." + +The young mother shook her head decisively. "No, Keithie, you're too +little. Grow real fast and you'll be a big boy soon." + +"You don't ever lemme have any fun," he pouted. "I gotta go to bed an' +sleep an' sleep an' sleep." + +She had no time to stay and comfort him. He pulled away sulkily from her +good-night kiss and refused to be placated. As she moved away into the +darkness, it gave Joyce a tug of the heart to see his small figure on +the porch. For she knew that as soon as she was out of sight he would +break down and wail. + +He did. Keith was of that temperament which wants what it wants when it +wants it. After a time his sobs subsided. There wasn't much use crying +when nobody was around to pay any attention to him. + +He went to bed and to sleep. It was hours later that the voice of some +one calling penetrated his dreams. Keith woke up, heard the sound of a +knocking on the door, and went to the window. The cook was deaf as +a post and would never hear. His sister was away. Perhaps it was a +message from his father. + +A man stepped out from the house and looked up at him. "Mees Crawford, +ees she at home maybeso?" he asked. The man was a Mexican. + +"Wait a jiffy. I'll get up," the youngster called back. + +He hustled into his clothes, went down, and opened the door. + +"The señorita. Ees she at home?" the man asked again. + +"She's down to the Boston Emporium cuttin' sandwiches an' packin' 'em," +Keith said. "Who wants her?" + +"I have a note for her from Señor Sanders." + +Master Keith seized his opportunity promptly. "I'll take you down there." + +The man brought his horse from the hitching-rack across the road. Side by +side they walked downtown, the youngster talking excitedly about the +fire, the Mexican either keeping silence or answering with a brief "Si, +muchacho." + +Into the Boston Emporium Keith raced ahead of the messenger. "Joy, Joy, a +man wants to see you! From Dave!" he shouted. + +Joyce flushed. Perhaps she would have preferred not to have her private +business shouted out before a roomful of women. But she put a good face +on it. + +"A letter, señorita," the man said, presenting her with a note which he +took from his pocket. + +The note read: + +MISS JOYCE: + +Your father has been hurt in the fire. This man will take you to him. + +DAVE SANDERS + +Joyce went white to the lips and caught at the table to steady herself. +"Is--is he badly hurt?" she asked. + +The man took refuge in ignorance, as Mexicans do when they do not want to +talk. He did not understand English, he said, and when the girl spoke in +Spanish he replied sulkily that he did not know what was in the letter. +He had been told to deliver it and bring the lady back. That was all. + +Keith burst into tears. He wanted to go to his father too, he sobbed. + +The girl, badly shaken herself in soul, could not refuse him. If his +father was hurt he had a right to be with him. + +"You may ride along with me," she said, her lip trembling. + +The women gathered round the boy and his sister, expressing sympathy +after the universal fashion of their sex. They were kinder and more +tender than usual, pressing on them offers of supplies and service. Joyce +thanked them, a lump in her throat, but it was plain that the only way in +which they could help was to expedite her setting out. + +Soon they were on the road, Keith riding behind his sister and clinging +to her waist. Joyce had slipped a belt around the boy and fastened it to +herself so that he would not fall from the saddle in case he slept. The +Mexican rode in complete silence. + +For an hour they jogged along the dusty road which led to the new oil +field, then swung to the right into the low foothills among which the +mountains were rooted. + +Joyce was a bit surprised. She asked questions, and again received for +answers shrugs and voluble Spanish irrelevant to the matter. The young +woman knew that the battle was being fought among the cañons leading +to the plains. This trail must be a short cut to one of them. She gave up +trying to get information from her guide. He was either stupid or sulky; +perhaps a little of each. + +The hill trail went up and down. It dipped into valleys and meandered +round hills. It climbed a mountain spur, slipped through a notch, and +plumped sharply into a small mountain park. At the notch the Mexican +drew up and pointed a finger. In the dim pre-dawn grayness Joyce could +see nothing but a gulf of mist. + +"Over there, Señorita, he waits." + +"Where?" + +"In the arroyo. Come." + +They descended, letting the horses pick their way down cautiously through +the loose rubble of the steep pitch. The heart of the girl beat fast with +anxiety about her father, with the probability that David Sanders would +soon come to meet her out of the silence, with some vague prescience of +unknown evil clutching at her bosom. There had been growing in Joyce a +feeling that something was wrong, something sinister was at work which +she did not understand. + +A mountain corral took form in the gloom. The Mexican slipped the bars of +the gate to let the horses in. + +"Is he here?" asked Joyce breathlessly. + +The man pointed to a one-room shack huddled on the hillside. + +Keith had fallen sound asleep, his head against the girl's back. "Don't +wake him when you lift him down," she told the man. "I'll just let him +sleep if he will." + +The Mexican carried Keith to a pile of sheepskins under a shed and +lowered him to them gently. The boy stirred, turned over, but did not +awaken. + +Joyce ran toward the shack. There was no light in it, no sign of life +about the place. She could not understand this. Surely someone must be +looking after her father. Whoever this was must have heard her coming. +Why had he not appeared at the door? Dave, of course, might be away +fighting fire, but someone.... + +Her heart lost a beat. The shadow of some horrible thing was creeping +over her life. Was her father dead? What shock was awaiting her in the +cabin? + +At the door she raised her voice in a faint, ineffective call. Her knees +gave way. She felt her body shaking as with an ague. But she clenched her +teeth on the weakness and moved into the room. + +It was dark--darker than outdoors. But as her eyes grew accustomed to the +absence of light she made out a table, a chair, a stove. From the far +side of the room came a gurgle that was half a snore. + +"Father," she whispered, and moved forward. + +Her outstretched hand groped for the bed and fell on clothing warm with +heat transmitted from a human body. At the same time she subconsciously +classified a strong odor that permeated the atmosphere. It was whiskey. + +The sleeper stirred uneasily beneath her touch. She felt stifled, wanted +to shout out her fears in a scream. Far beyond the need of proof she knew +now that something was very wrong, though she still could not guess +at what the dreadful menace was. + +But Joyce had courage. She was what the wind and the sun and a long line +of sturdy ancestors had made her. She leaned forward toward the awakening +man just as he turned in the bunk. + +A hand fell on her wrist and closed, the fingers like bands of iron. +Joyce screamed wildly, her nerve swept away in a reaction of terror. She +fought like a wildcat, twisting and writhing with all her supple strength +to break the grip on her arm. + +For she knew now what the evil was that had been tolling a bell of +warning in her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +HANK BRINGS BAD NEWS + + +The change in the wind had cost three lives, but it had saved the Jackpot +property and the feed on the range. After the fire in San Jacinto Cañon +had broken through Hart's defense by its furious and persistent attack, +nothing could have prevented it from spreading over the plains on a wild +rampage except a cloudburst or a decided shift of wind. This last had +come and had driven the flames back on territory already burnt over. + +The fire did not immediately die out, but it soon began to dwindle. Only +here and there did it leap forward with its old savage fury. Presently +these sporadic plunges wore themselves out for lack of fuel. The +devastated area became a smouldering, smoking char showing a few isolated +blazes in the barren ruin. There were still possibilities of harm in them +if the wind should shift again, but for the present they were subdued to +a shadow of their former strength. It remained the business of the +fire-fighters to keep a close watch on the red-hot embers to prevent them +from being flung far by the breeze. + +Fortunately the wind died down soon, reducing the danger to a minimum. + +Dave handed back to Shorty the revolver he had borrowed so peremptorily +from his holster. + +"Much obliged. I won't need this any more." + +The cowpuncher spoke grimly. "I'm liable to." + +"Mexico is a good country for a cattleman," Sanders said, looking +straight at him. + +Shorty met him eye to eye. "So I've been told." + +"Good range and water-holes. Stock fatten well." + +"Yes." + +"A man might do worse than go there if he's worn out this country." + +"Stage-robbers and rustlers right welcome, are they?" asked Shorty +hardily. + +"No questions asked about a man's past if his present is O.K." + +"Listens good. If I meet anybody lookin' to make a change I'll tell him +you recommended Mexico." The eyes of the two men still clashed. In each +man's was a deep respect for the other's gameness. They had been tried by +fire and come through clean. Shorty voiced this defiantly. "I don't like +a hair of yore head. Never did. You're too damned interferin' to suit me. +But I'll say this. You'll do to ride the river with, Sanders." + +"I'll interfere again this far, Shorty. You're too good a man to go bad." + +"Oh, hell!" The outlaw turned away; then thought better of it and came +back. "I'll name no names, but I'll say this. Far as I'm concerned Tim +Harrigan might be alive to-day." + +Dave, with a nod, accepted this as true. "I guessed as much. You've been +running with a mighty bad pardner." + +"Have I?" asked the rustler blandly. "Did I say anything about a +pardner?" + +His eye fell on the three still figures lying on the hillside in a row. +Not a twitching muscle in his face showed what he was thinking, that they +might have been full of splendid life and vigor if Dug Doble had not put +a match to the chaparral back of Bear Cañon. The man had murdered them +just as surely as though he had shot them down with a rifle. For weeks +Shorty had been getting his affairs in order to leave the country, but +before he went he intended to have an accounting with one man. + +Dillon came up to Sanders and spoke in an awed voice. "What do you aim to +do with ... these, Sanders?" His hand indicated the bodies lying near. + +"Send horses up for them," Dave said. "You can take all the men back to +camp with you except three to help me watch the fire. Tell Mr. Crawford +how things are." + +The men crept down the hill like veterans a hundred years old. Ragged, +smoke-blackened, and grimy, they moved like automatons. So great was +their exhaustion that one or two dropped out of line and lay down on +the charred ground to sleep. The desire for it was so overmastering that +they could not drive their weighted legs forward. + +A man on horseback appeared and rode up to Dave and Shorty. The man was +Bob Hart. The red eyes in his blackened face were sunken and his coat +hung on him in crisped shreds. He looked down at the bodies lying side by +side. His face worked, but he made no verbal comment. + +"We piled into a cave. Some of the boys couldn't stand it," Dave +explained. + +Bob's gaze took in his friend. The upper half of his body was almost +naked. Both face and torso were raw with angry burns. Eyebrows had +disappeared and eyes were so swollen as to be almost closed. He was +gaunt, ragged, unshaven, and bleeding. Shorty, too, appeared to have gone +through the wars. + +"You boys oughtta have the doc see you," Hart said gently. "He's down at +camp now. One of Em's men had an arm busted by a limb of a tree fallin' +on him. I've got a coupla casualties in my gang. Two or three of 'em +runnin' a high fever. Looks like they may have pneumonia, doc says. Lungs +all inflamed from swallowin' smoke.... You take my hawss and ride down to +camp, Dave. I'll stick around here till the old man sends a relief." + +"No, you go down and report to him, Bob. If Crawford has any fresh men +I'd like mine relieved. They've been on steady for 'most two days and +nights. Four or five can hold the fire here. All they need do is watch +it." + +Hart did not argue. He knew how Dave stuck to a thing like a terrier +to a rat. He would not leave the ground till orders came from Emerson +Crawford. + +"Lemme go an' report," suggested Shorty. "I wanta get my bronc an' light +out pronto. Never can tell when Applegate might drap around an' ask +questions. Me, I'm due in the hills." + +"All right," agreed Bob. "See Crawford himself, Shorty." + +The outlaw pulled himself to the saddle and cantered off. + +"Best man in my gang," Dave said, following him with his eyes. "There to +a finish and never a whimper out of him. Dragged a man out of the fire +when he might have been hustling for his own skin." + +"Shorty's game," admitted Hart. "Pity he went bad." + +"Yes. He told me he didn't kill Harrigan." + +"Reckon Dug did that. More like him." + +Half an hour later the relief came. Hart, Dave, and the three +fire-fighters who had stayed to watch rode back to camp. + +Crawford had lost his voice. He had already seen Hart since the fire had +subsided, so his greeting was to Sanders. + +"Good work, son," he managed to whisper, a quaver in his throat. "I'd +rather we'd lost the whole works than to have had that happen to the +boys, a hundred times rather. I reckon it must 'a' been mighty bad up +there when the back-fire caught you. The boys have been tellin' me. You +saved all their lives, I judge." + +"I happened to know where the cave was." + +"Yes." Crawford's whisper was sadly ironic. "Well, I'm sure glad you +happened to know that. If you hadn't...." The old cattleman gave a +little gesture that completed the sentence. The tragedy that had taken +place had shaken his soul. He felt in a way responsible. + +"If the doc ain't busy now, I reckon Dave could use him," Bob said. "I +reckon he needs a li'l' attention. Then I'm ready for grub an' a sleep +twice round the clock. If any one asks me, I'm sure enough dead beat. +I don't ever want to look at a shovel again." + +"Doc's fixin' up Lanier's burnt laig. He'd oughtta be through soon now. +I'll have him 'tend to Dave's burns right away then," said Crawford. He +turned to Sanders. "How about it, son? You sure look bunged up pretty +bad." + +"I'm about all in," admitted Dave. "Reckon we all are. Shorty gone yet?" + +"Yes. Lit out after he'd made a report. Said he had an engagement to meet +a man. Expect he meant he had an engagement _not_ to meet the sheriff. I +rec'lect when Shorty was a mighty promisin' young fellow before Brad +Steelman got a-holt of him. He punched cows for me twenty years ago. He +hadn't took the wrong turn then. You cayn't travel crooked trails an' not +reach a closed pocket o' the hills sometime." + +For several minutes they had heard the creaking of a wagon working up an +improvised road toward the camp. Now it moved into sight. The teamster +called to Crawford. + +"Here's another load o' grub, boss. Miss Joyce she rustled up them +canteens you was askin' for." + +Crawford stepped over to the wagon. "Don't reckon we'll need the +canteens, Hank, but we can use the grub fine. The fire's about out." + +"That's bully. Say, I got news for you, Mr. Crawford. Brad Steelman's +dead. They found him in his house, shot plumb through the head. I reckon +he won't do you any more meanness." + +"Who killed him?" + +"They ain't sayin'," returned the teamster cautiously. "Some folks was +guessin' that mebbe Dug Doble could tell, but there ain't any evidence +far's I know. Whoever it was robbed the safe." + +The old cattleman made no comment. From the days of their youth Steelman +had been his bitter enemy, but death had closed the account between them. +His mind traveled back to those days twenty-five years ago when he and +the sheepman had both hitched their horses in front of Helen Radcliff's +home. It had been a fair fight between them, and he had won as a man +should. But Brad had not taken his defeat as a man should. He had +nourished bitterness and played his successful rival many a mean +despicable trick. Out of these had grown the feud between them. Crawford +did not know how it had come about, but he had no doubt Steelman had +somehow fallen a victim in the trap he had been building for others. + +A question brought his mind back to the present. The teamster was +talking: "... so she started pronto. I s'pose you wasn't as bad hurt as +Sanders figured." + +"What's that?" asked Crawford. + +"I was sayin' Miss Joyce she started right away when the note come from +Sanders." + +"What note?" + +"The one tellin' how you was hurt in the fire." + +Crawford turned. "Come here, Dave," he called hoarsely. + +Sanders moved across. + +"Hank says you sent a note to Joyce sayin' I'd been hurt. What about it?" + +"Why would I do that when you're not hurt?" + +"Then you didn't?" + +"Of course not," answered Dave, perplexed. + +"Some one's been stringin' you, Hank," said Crawford, smiling. + +The teamster scratched his head. "No, sir. I was there when she left. +About twelve o'clock last night, mebbe later." + +"But Sanders says he didn't send a note, and Joyce didn't come here. So +you must 'a' missed connections somewhere." + +"Probably you saw her start for home," suggested Dave. + +Hank stuck to his guns. "No, sir. She was on that sorrel of hers, an' +Keith was ridin' behind her. I saddled myself and took the horse to the +store. They was waitin' there for me, the two young folks an' Juan." + +"Juan?" + +"Juan Otero. He brought the note an' rode back with her." + +The old cattleman felt a clutch of fear at his heart. Juan Otero was one +of Dug Doble's men. + +"That all you know, Hank?" + +"That's all. Miss Joyce said for me to get this wagonload of grub out +soon as I could. So I come right along." + +"Doble been seen in town lately?" asked Dave. + +"Not as I know of. Shorty has." + +"Shorty ain't in this." + +"Do you reckon--?" + +Sanders cut the teamster short. "Some of Doble's work. But I don't see +why he sent for Keith too." + +"He didn't. Keith begged to go along an' Miss Joyce took him." + +In the haggard, unshaven face of the cattleman Dave read the ghastly +fear of his own soul. Doble was capable of terrible evil. His hatred, +jealousy, and passion would work together to poison his mind. The corners +of his brain had always been full of lust and obscenity. There was this +difference between him and Shorty. The squat cowpuncher was a clean +scoundrel. A child, a straight girl, an honest woman, would be as safe +with him as with simple-hearted old Buck Byington. But Dug Doble--it +was impossible to predict what he would do. He had a vein of caution in +his make-up, but when in drink he jettisoned this and grew ugly. His +vanity--always a large factor in determining his actions--might carry +him in the direction of decency or the reverse. + +"I'm glad Keith's with her," said Hart, who had joined the group. "With +Keith and the Mexican there--" His meaning did not need a completed +sentence. + +"Question is, where did he take her," said Crawford. "We might comb the +hills a week and not find his hole. I wish to God Shorty was still here. +He might know." + +"He's our best bet, Bob," agreed Dave. "Find him. He's gone off somewhere +to sleep. Rode away less than half an hour since." + +"Which way?" + +"Rode toward Bear Cañon," said Crawford. + +"That's a lead for you, Bob. Figure it out. He's done--completely worn +out. So he won't go far--not more than three-four miles. He'll be in the +hills, under cover somewhere, for he won't forget that thousand dollars +reward. So he'll be lying in the chaparral. That means he'll be above +where the fire started. If I was looking for him, I'd say somewhere back +of Bear, Cattle, or San Jacinto would be the likeliest spot." + +"Good guess, Dave. Somewheres close to water," said Bob. "You goin' along +with me?" + +"No. Take as many men as you can get. I'm going back, if I can, to find +the place where Otero and Miss Joyce left the road. Mr. Crawford, you'd +better get back to town, don't you think? There may be clues there we +don't know anything about here. Perhaps Miss Joyce may have got back." + +"If not, I'll gather a posse to rake the hills, Dave. If that villain's +hurt my li'l' girl or Keith--" Crawford's whisper broke. He turned away +to conceal the working of his face. + +"He hasn't," said Bob with decision. "Dug ain't crazy even if his actions +look like it. I've a notion when Mr. Crawford gets back to town Miss +Joyce will be there all right. Like as not Dug brought her back himself. +Maybe he sent for her just to brag awhile. You know Dug." + +That was the worst of it, so far as any allaying of their fear went. They +did know Doble. They knew him for a thorough black-hearted scoundrel who +might stop at nothing. + +The three men moved toward the remuda. None of them had slept for +forty-eight hours. They had been through a grueling experience that had +tried soul and body to the limit. But none of them hesitated for an +instant. They belonged to the old West which answers the call no matter +what the personal cost. There was work to do. Not one of them would quit +as long as he could stick to the saddle. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +SHORTY IS AWAKENED + + +The eyes that looked into those of Joyce in the gloom of the cabin +abruptly shook off sleep. They passed from an amazed incredulity to a +malicious triumph. + +"So you've come to old Dug, have you, my pretty?" a heavy voice jeered. + +The girl writhed and twisted regardless of the pain, exerting every +muscle of the strong young arm and shoulder. As well she might have tried +to beat down an iron door with her bare hands as to hope for escape from +his strong grip. He made a motion to draw her closer. Joyce flung herself +back and sank down beside the bunk, straining away. + +"Let me go!" she cried, terror rampant in her white face. "Don't touch +me! Let me go!" + +The force of her recoil had drawn him to his side. His cruel, mirthless +grin seemed to her to carry inexpressible menace. Very slowly, while his +eyes taunted her, he pulled her manacled wrist closer. + +There was a swift flash of white teeth. With a startled oath Doble +snatched his arm away. Savage as a tigress, Joyce had closed her teeth +on his forearm. + +She fell back, got to her feet, and fled from the house. Doble was after +her on the instant. She dodged round a tree, doubled on her course, then +deflected toward the corral. Swift and supple though she was, his long +strides brought him closer. Again she screamed. + +Doble caught her. She fought in his arms, a prey to wild and unreasoning +terror. + +"You young hell-cat, I'm not gonna hurt you," he said. "What's the use o' +actin' crazy?" + +He could have talked to the waves of the sea with as much effect. It is +doubtful if she heard him. + +There was a patter of rapid feet. A small body hurled itself against +Doble's leg and clung there, beating his thigh with a valiant little +fist. + +"You le' my sister go! You le' my sister go!" the boy shouted, repeating +the words over and over. + +Doble looked down at Keith. "What the hell?" he demanded, amazed. + +The Mexican came forward and spoke in Spanish rapidly. He explained that +he could not have prevented the boy from coming without arousing the +suspicions of his sister and her friends. + +The outlaw was irritated. All this clamor of fear annoyed and disturbed +him. This was not the scene he had planned in his drink-inspired +reveries. There had been a time when Joyce had admired the virile force +of him, when she had let herself be kind to him under the impression she +was influencing him for his good. He had misunderstood the reaction of +her mind and supposed that if he could get her away from the influence +of her father and the rest of his enemies, she would again listen to what +he called reason. + +"All right. You brought the brat here without orders. Now take him home +again," directed Doble harshly. + +Otero protested fluently, with gestures eloquent. He had not yet been +paid for his services. By this time Malapi might be too hot for him. He +did not intend ever to go back. He was leaving the country pronto--muy +pronto. The boy could go back when his sister went. + +"His sister's not going back. Soon as it gets dark we'll travel south. +She's gonna be my wife. You can take the kid back to the road an' leave +him there." + +Again the Mexican lifted hands and shoulders while he pattered volubly, +trying to make himself heard above the cries of the child. Dug had +silenced Joyce by the simple expedient of clapping his big hand over her +mouth. + +Doble's other hand went into his pocket. He drew out a flat package of +currency bound together with rubber bands. His sharp teeth drew off one +of the rubbers. From the bundle he stripped four fifty-dollar bills and +handed them to Otero. + +"Peel this kid off'n my leg and hit the trail, Juan. I don' care where +you leave him so long as you keep an eye on him till afternoon." + +With difficulty the Mexican dragged the boy from his hold on Doble and +carried him to a horse. He swung to the saddle, dragged Keith up in front +of him, and rode away at a jog-trot. The youngster was screaming at the +top of his lungs. + +As his horse climbed toward the notch, Otero looked back. Doble had +picked up his prisoner and was carrying her into the house. + +The Mexican formulated his plans. He must get out of the country before +the hue and cry started. He could not count on more than a few hours +before the chase began. First, he must get rid of the child. Then he +wanted to go to a certain tendejon where he would meet his sweetheart +and say good-bye to her. + +It was all very well for Doble to speak of taking him to town or to the +road. Juan meant to do neither. He would leave him in the hills above the +Jackpot and show him the way down there, after which he would ride to +meet the girl who was waiting for him. This would give him time enough to +get away safely. It was no business of his whether or not Doble was +taken. He was an overbearing brute, anyhow. + +An hour's riding through the chaparral brought him to the watershed far +above the Jackpot. Otero picked his way to the upper end of a gulch. + +"Leesten, muchacho. Go down--down--down. First the gulch, then a cañon, +then the Jackpot. You go on thees trail." + +He dropped the boy to the ground, watched him start, then turned away at +a Spanish trot. + +The trail was a rough and precipitous one. Stumbling as he walked, Keith +went sobbing down the gulch. He had wept himself out, and his sobs had +fallen to a dry hiccough. A forlorn little chap, tired and sleepy, he +picked his way among the mesquite, following the path along the dry creek +bed. The catclaw tore his stockings and scratched him. Stone bruises hurt +his tender feet. He kept traveling, because he was afraid to give up. + +He reached the junction of the gulch and the cañon. A small stream, which +had survived the summer drought, trickled down the bed of the latter. +Through tangled underbrush Keith crept to the water. He lay down and +drank, after which he sat on a rock and pitied himself. In five minutes +he would have been asleep if a sound had not startled him. Some one was +snoring on the other side of a mesquite thicket. + +Keith jumped up, pushed his way through, and almost stumbled over a +sleeping man. He knelt down and began to shake the snorer. The man did +not awaken. The foghorn in his throat continued to rumble intermittently, +now in crescendo, now in diminuendo. + +"Wake up, man!" Keith shouted in his ear in the interval between shakes. + +The sleeper was a villainous-looking specimen. His face and throat were +streaked with black. There was an angry wheal across his cheek. One of +the genus tramp would have scorned his charred clothes. Keith cared for +none of these details. He wanted to unload his troubles to a "grown-up." + +The youngster roused the man at last by throwing water in his face. +Shorty sat up, at the same time dragging out a revolver. His gaze +fastened on the boy, after one swift glance round. + +"Who's with you, kid?" he demanded. + +Keith began to sniffle. "Nobody." + +"Whadya doin' here?" + +"I want my daddy." + +"Who is yore daddy? What's yore name?" + +"Keith Crawford." + +Shorty bit off an oath of surprise. "Howcome you here?" + +"A man brought me." + +The rustler brushed the cobwebs of sleep from his eyes and brain. He had +come up here to sleep undisturbed through the day and far into the night. +Before he had had two hours of rest this boy had dragged him back from +slumber. He was prepared to be annoyed, but he wanted to make sure of the +facts first. + +As far as he understood them, the boy told the story of the night's +adventures. Shorty's face grew grim. He appreciated the meaning back of +them far better than the little fellow. Keith's answers to his questions +told him that the men figuring in the episode must be Doble and Otero. +Though the child was a little mixed as to the direction from which Otero +had brought him, the man was pretty sure of the valley where Doble was +lying hid. + +He jumped to his feet. "We'll go, kid." + +"To daddy?" + +"Not right away. We got hurry-up business first." + +"I wanta go to my daddy." + +"Sure. Soon as we can. But we'll drift over to where yore sister's at +first off. We're both wore to a frazzle, mebbe, but we got to trail over +an' find out what's bitin' Dug." + +The man saddled and took the up-trail, Keith clinging to his waist. At +the head of the gulch the boy pointed out the way he and Otero had come. +This confirmed Shorty's opinion as to the place where Doble was to be +found. + +With the certainty of one who knew these hills as a preacher does his +Bible, Shorty wound in and out, always moving by the line of least +resistance. He was steadily closing the gap of miles that separated him +from Dug Doble. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +JUAN OTERO IS CONSCRIPTED + + +Crawford and Sanders rode rapidly toward Malapi. They stopped several +times to examine places where they thought it possible Otero might have +left the road, but they looked without expectation of any success. +They did not even know that the Mexican had started in this direction. As +soon as he reached the suburbs, he might have cut back across the plain +and followed an entirely different line of travel. + +Several miles from town Sanders pulled up. "I'm going back for a couple +of miles. Bob was telling me of a Mexican tendejon in the hills kept by +the father of a girl Otero goes to see. She might know where he is. If I +can get hold of him likely I can make him talk." + +This struck Crawford as rather a wild-goose chase, but he had nothing +better to offer himself in the way of a plan. + +"Might as well," he said gloomily. "I don't reckon you'll find him. But +you never can tell. Offer the girl a big reward if she'll tell where +Doble is. I'll hustle to town and send out posses." + +They separated. Dave rode back up the road, swung off at the place Hart +had told him of, and turned up a valley which pushed to the roots of the +hills. The tendejon was a long, flat-roofed adobe building close to the +trail. + +Dave walked through the open door into the bar-room. Two or three men +were lounging at a table. Behind a counter a brown-eyed Mexican girl was +rinsing glasses in a pail of water. + +The young man sauntered forward to the counter. He invited the company to +drink with him. + +"I'm looking for Juan Otero," he said presently. "Mr. Crawford wanted me +to see him about riding for him." + +There was a moment's silence. All of those present were Mexicans except +Dave. The girl flashed a warning look at her countrymen. That look, +Sanders guessed at once, would seal the lips of all of them. At once he +changed his tactics. What information he got would have to come directly +through the girl. He signaled her to join him outside. + +Presently she did so. The girl was a dusky young beauty, plump as a +partridge, with the soft-eyed charm of her age and race. + +"The señor wants to see me?" she asked. + +Her glance held a flash of mockery. She had seen many dirty, +poverty-stricken mavericks of humanity, but never a more battered +specimen than this gaunt, hollow-eyed tramp, black as a coal-heaver, +whose flesh showed grimy with livid wounds through the shreds of his +clothing. But beneath his steady look the derision died. Tattered his +coat and trousers might be. At least he was a prince in adversity. The +head on the splendid shoulders was still finely poised. He gave an +impression of indomitable strength. + +"I want Juan Otero," he said. + +"To ride for Señor Crawford." Her white teeth flashed and she lifted her +pretty shoulders in a shrug of mock regret. "Too bad he is not here. Some +other day--" + +"--will not do. I want him now." + +"But I have not got him hid." + +"Where is he? I don't want to harm him, but I must know. He took Joyce +Crawford into the hills last night to Dug Doble--pretended her father had +been hurt and he had been sent to lead her to him. I must save her--from +Doble, not from Otero. Help me. I will give you money--a hundred dollars, +two hundred." + +She stared at him. "Did Juan do that?" she murmured. + +"Yes. You know Doble. He's a devil. I must find him ... soon." + +"Juan has not been here for two days. I do not know where he is." + +The dust of a moving horse was traveling toward them from the hills. A +Mexican pulled up and swung from the saddle. The girl called a greeting +to him quickly before he could speak. "Buenos dios, Manuel. My father +is within, Manuel." + +The man looked at her a moment, murmured "Buenos, Bonita," and took a +step as though to enter the house. + +Dave barred the way. The flash of apprehension in Bonita's face, her +unnecessary repetition of the name, the man's questioning look at her, +told Sanders that this was the person he wanted. + +"Just a minute, Otero. Where did you leave Miss Crawford?" + +The Mexican's eyes contracted. To give himself time he fell again into +the device of pretending that he did not understand English. Dave spoke +in Spanish. The loafers in the bar-room came out to listen. + +"I do not know what you mean." + +"Don't lie to me. Where is she?" + +The keeper of the tendejon asked a suave question. He, too, talked in +Spanish. "Who are you, señor? A deputy sheriff, perhaps?" + +"No. My name is Dave Sanders. I'm Emerson Crawford's friend. If Juan will +help me save the girl he'll get off light and perhaps make some money. +I'll stand by him. But if he won't, I'll drag him back to Malapi and give +him to a mob." + +The sound of his name was a potent weapon. His fame had spread like +wildfire through the hills since his return from Colorado. He had scored +victory after victory against bad men without firing a gun. He had made +the redoubtable Dug Doble an object of jeers and had driven him to the +hills as an outlaw. Dave was unarmed. They could see that. But his quiet +confidence was impressive. If he said he would take Juan to Malapi with +him, none of them doubted he would do it. Had he not dragged Miller back +to justice--Miller who was a killer of unsavory reputation? + +Otero wished he had not come just now to see Bonita, but he stuck +doggedly to his statement. He knew nothing about it, nothing at all. + +"Crawford is sending out a dozen posses. They will close the passes. +Doble will be caught. They will kill him like a wolf. Then they will kill +you. If they don't find him, they will kill you anyhow." + +Dave spoke evenly, without raising his voice. Somehow he made what he +said seem as inevitable as fate. + +Bonita caught her lover by the arm and shoulder. She was afraid, and her +conscience troubled her vicariously for his wrongdoing. + +"Why did you do it, Juan?" she begged of him. + +"He said she wanted to come, that she would marry him if she had a +chance. He said her father kept her from him," the man pleaded. "I didn't +know he was going to harm her." + +"Where is he? Take me to him, quick," said Sanders, relapsing into +English. + +"Si, señor. At once," agreed Otero, thoroughly frightened. + +"I want a six-shooter. Some one lend me one." + +None of them carried one, but Bonita ran into the house and brought back +a small bulldog. Dave looked it over without enthusiasm. It was a pretty +poor concern to take against a man who carried two forty-fives and knew +how to use them. But he thrust it into his pocket and swung to the +saddle. It was quite possible he might be killed by Doble, but he had a +conviction that the outlaw had come to the end of the passage. He was +going to do justice on the man once for all. He regarded this as a +certainty. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +THE BULLDOG BARKS + + +Joyce fainted for the first time in her life. + +When she recovered consciousness Doble was splashing water in her face. +She was lying on the bunk from which she had fled a few minutes earlier. +The girl made a motion to rise and he put a heavy hand on her shoulder. + +"Keep your hand off me!" she cried. + +"Don't be a fool," he told her irritably. "I ain't gonna hurt you +none--if you behave reasonable:" + +"Let me go," she demanded, and struggled to a sitting position on the +couch. "You let me go or my father--" + +"What'll he do?" demanded the man brutally. "I've stood a heap from +that father of yore's. I reckon this would even the score even if I +hadn't--" He pulled up, just in time to keep from telling her that he had +fired the chaparral. He was quite sober enough to distrust his tongue. It +was likely, he knew, to let out some things that had better not be told. + +She tried to slip by him and he thrust her back. + +"Let me go!" she demanded. "At once!" + +"You're not gonna go," he told her flatly. "You'll stay here--with me. +For keeps. Un'erstand?" + +"Have you gone crazy?" she asked wildly, her heart fluttering like a +frightened bird in a cage. "Don't you know my father will search the +whole country for me?" + +"Too late. We travel south soon as it's dark." He leaned forward and put +a hand on her knee, regardless of the fact that she shrank back quivering +from his touch. "Listen, girl. You been a high-stepper. Yore heels click +mighty loud when they hit the sidewalk. Good enough. Go far as you like. +I never did fancy the kind o' women that lick a man's hand. But you made +one mistake. I'm no doormat, an' nobody alive can wipe their feet on me. +You turned me down cold. You had the ol' man kick me outa my job as +foreman of the ranch. I told him an' you both I'd git even. But I don't +aim to rub it in. I'm gonna give you a chance to be Mrs. Doble. An' when +you marry me you git a man for a husband." + +"I'll never marry you! Never! I'd rather be dead in my grave!" she broke +out passionately. + +He went to the table, poured himself a drink, and gulped it down. His +laugh was sinister and mirthless. + +"Please yorese'f, sweetheart," he jeered. "Only you won't be dead in +yore grave. You'll be keepin' house for Dug Doble. I'm not insistin' on +weddin' bells none. But women have their fancies an' I aim to be kind. +Take 'em or leave 'em." + +She broke down and wept, her face in her hands. In her sheltered life she +had known only decent, clean-minded people. She did not know how to cope +with a man like this. The fear of him rose in her throat and choked her. +This dreadful thing he threatened could not be, she told herself. God +would not permit it. He would send her father or Dave Sanders or Bob Hart +to rescue her. And yet--when she looked at the man, big, gross, dominant, +flushed with drink and his triumph--the faith in her became a weak and +fluid stay for her soul. She collapsed like a child and sobbed. + +Her wild alarm annoyed him. He was angered at her uncontrollable shudders +when he drew near. There was a savage desire in him to break through the +defense of her helplessness once for all. But his caution urged delay. He +must give her time to get accustomed to the idea of him. She had sense +enough to see that she must make the best of the business. When the +terror lifted from her mind she would be reasonable. + +He repeated again that he was not going to hurt her if she met him +halfway, and to show good faith went out and left her alone. + +The man sat down on a chopping-block outside and churned his hatred of +Sanders and Crawford. He spurred himself with drink, under its influence +recalling the injuries they had done him. His rage and passion simmered, +occasionally exploded into raucous curses. Once he strode into the house, +full of furious intent, but the eyes of the girl daunted him. They looked +at him as they might have looked at a tiger padding toward her. + +He flung out of the house again, snarling at his own weakness. There was +something in him stronger than passion, stronger than his reckless will, +that would not let him lay a hand on her in the light of day. His +bloodshot eyes looked for the sun. In a few hours now it would be dark. + +While he lounged sullenly on the chopping-block, shoulders and head +sunken, a sound brought him to alert attention. A horseman was galloping +down the slope on the other side of the valley. + +Doble eased his guns to make sure of them. Intently he watched the +approaching figure. He recognized the horse, Chiquito, and then, with an +oath, the rider. His eyes gleamed with evil joy. At last! At last he and +Dave Sanders would settle accounts. One of them would be carried out of +the valley feet first. + +Sanders leaped to the ground at the same instant that he pulled Chiquito +up. The horse was between him and his enemy. + +The eyes of the men crossed in a long, level look. + +"Where's Joyce Crawford?" asked Dave. + +"That yore business?" Doble added to his retort the insult unmentionable. + +"I'm makin' it mine. What have you done with her?" The speech of the +younger man took on again the intonation of earlier days. "I'm here to +find out." + +A swish of skirts, a soft patter of feet, and Joyce was beside her +friend, clinging to him, weeping in his arms. + +Doble moved round in a wide circumference. When shooting began he did not +want his foe to have the protection of the horse's body. Not even for the +beat of a lid did the eyes of either man lift from the other. + +"Go back to the house, Joyce," said Dave evenly. "I want to talk with +this man alone." + +The girl clung the tighter to him. "No, Dave, no! It's been ... awful." + +The outlaw drew his long-barreled six-shooter, still circling the group. +He could not fire without running a risk of hitting Joyce. + +"Hidin' behind a woman, are you?" he taunted, and again flung the epithet +men will not tolerate. + +At any moment he might fire. Dave caught the wrists of the girl, dragged +them down from his neck, and flung her roughly from him to the ground. He +pulled out his little bulldog. + +Doble fired and Dave fell. The outlaw moved cautiously closer, exultant +at his marksmanship. His enemy lay still, the pistol in his hand. +Apparently Sanders had been killed at the first shot. + +"Come to git me with that popgun, did you? Hmp! Fat chance." The bad man +fired again, still approaching very carefully. + +Round the corner of the house a man had come. He spoke quickly. "Turn +yore gun this way, Dug." + +It was Shorty. His revolver flashed at the same instant. Doble staggered, +steadied himself, and fired. + +The forty-fives roared. Yellow flames and smoke spurted. The bulldog +barked. Dave's parlor toy had come into action. + +Out of the battle Shorty and Sanders came erect and uninjured. Doble +was lying on the ground, his revolver smoking a foot or two from the +twitching, outstretched hand. + +The outlaw was dead before Shorty turned him over. A bullet had passed +through the heart. Another had struck him on the temple, a third in the +chest. + +"We got him good," said Shorty. "It was comin' to him. I reckon you don't +know that he fired the chaparral on purpose. Wanted to wipe out the +Jackpot, I s'pose. Yes, Dug sure had it comin' to him." + +Dave said nothing. He looked down at the man, eyes hard as jade, jaw +clamped tight. He knew that but for Shorty's arrival he would probably be +lying there himself. + +"I was aimin' to shoot it out with him before I heard of this last +scullduggery. Soon as the kid woke me I hustled up my intentions." The +bad man looked at Dave's weapon with the flicker of a smile on his face. +"He called it a popgun. I took notice it was a right busy li'l' +plaything. But you got yore nerve all right. I'd say you hadn't a chance +in a thousand. You played yore hand fine, keelin' over so's he'd come +clost enough for you to get a crack at him. At that, he'd maybe 'a' got +you if I hadn't drapped in." + +"Yes," said Sanders. + +He walked across to the corral fence, where Joyce sat huddled against the +lower bars. + +She lifted her head and looked at him from wan eyes out of which the life +had been stricken. They stared at him in dumb, amazed questioning. + +Dave lifted her from the ground. + +"I... I thought you... were dead," she whispered. + +"Not even powder-burnt. His six-shooter outranged mine. I was trying to +get him closer." + +"Is he...?" + +"Yes. He'll never trouble any of us again." + +She shuddered in his arms. + +Dave ached for her in every tortured nerve. He did not know, and it was +not his place to ask, what price she had had to pay. + +Presently she told him, not in words, without knowing what he was +suffering for her. A ghost of a smile touched her eyes. + +"I knew you would come. It's all right now." + +His heart leaped. "Yes, it's all right, Joyce." + +She recurred to her fears for him. "You're not ... hiding any wounds from +me? I saw you fall and lie there while he shot at you." + +"He never touched me." + +She disengaged herself from his arms and looked at him, wan, haggard, +unshaven, eyes sunken, a tattered wretch scarred with burns. + +"What have you done to yourself?" she asked, astonished at his +appearance. + +"Souvenirs of the fire," he told her. "They'll wash and wear off. Don't +suppose I look exactly pretty." + +He had never looked so handsome in her eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +JOYCE MAKES PIES + + +Juan Otero carried the news back to Malapi. He had been waiting on the +crest of the hill to see the issue of the adventure and had come forward +when Dave gave him a signal. + +Shorty brought Keith in from where he had left the boy in the brush. The +youngster flew into his sister's arms. They wept over each other and she +petted him with caresses and little kisses. + +Afterward she made some supper from the supplies Doble had laid in for +his journey south. The men went down to the creek, where they bathed and +washed their wounds. Darkness had not yet fallen when they went to sleep, +all of them exhausted by the strain through which they had passed. + +Not until the cold crystal dawn did they awaken. Joyce was the first up. +She had breakfast well under way before she had Keith call the still +sleeping men. With the power of quick recuperation which an outdoor life +had given them, both Shorty and Dave were fit for any exertion again, +though Sanders was still suffering from his burns. + +After they had eaten they saddled. Shorty gave them a casual nod of +farewell. + +"Tell Applegate to look me up in Mexico if he wants me," he said. + +Joyce would not let it go at that. She made him shake hands. He was in +the saddle, and her eyes lifted to his and showered gratitude on him. + +"We'll never forget you--never," she promised. "And we do so hope you'll +be prosperous and happy." + +He grinned down at her sheepishly. "Same to you, Miss," he said; and +added, with a flash of audacity, "To you and Dave both." + +He headed south, the others north. + +From the hilltop Dave looked back at the squat figure steadily +diminishing with distance. Shorty was moving toward Mexico, unhasting and +with a certain sureness of purpose characteristic of him. + +Joyce smiled. It was the first signal of unquenchable youth she had +flashed since she had been trapped into this terrible adventure. "I +believe you admire him, Dave," she mocked. "You're just as grateful to +him as I am, but you won't admit it. He's not a bad man at all, really." + +"He's a good man gone bad. But I'll say this for Shorty. He's some _man_. +He'll do to ride the river with." + +"Yes." + +"At the fire he was the best fighter in my gang--saved one of the boys +at the risk of his own life. Shorty's no quitter." + +She shut her teeth on a little wave of emotion. Then, "I'm awful sorry +for him," she said. + +He nodded appreciation of her feeling. "I know, but you don't need to +worry any. He'll not worry about himself. He's sufficient, and he'll get +along." + +They put their horses to the trail again. + +Crawford met them some miles nearer town. He had been unable to wait for +their arrival. Neither he nor the children could restrain their emotion +at sight of each other. Dave felt they might like to be alone and he left +the party, to ride across to the tendejon with Bonita's bulldog revolver. + +That young woman met him in front of the house. She was eager for news. +Sanders told her what had taken place. They spoke in her tongue. + +"And Juan--is it all right about him?" she asked. + +"Juan has wiped the slate clean. Mr. Crawford wants to know when Bonita +is to be married. He has a wedding present for her." + +She was all happy smiles when he left her. + +Late that afternoon Bob Hart reached town. He and Dave were alone in the +Jackpot offices when the latter forced himself to open a subject that had +always been closed between them. Sanders came to it reluctantly. No man +had ever found a truer friend than he in Bob Hart. The thing he was going +to do seemed almost like a stab in the back. + +"How about you and Joyce, Bob?" he asked abruptly. + +The eyes of the two met and held. "What about us, Dave?" + +"It's like this," Sanders said, flushed and embarrassed. "You were here +first. You're entitled to first chance. I meant to keep out of it, but +things have come up in spite of me. I want to do whatever seems right to +you. My idea is to go away till--till you've settled how you stand with +her. Is that fair?" + +Bob smiled, ruefully. "Fair enough, old-timer. But no need of it. I never +had a chance with Joyce, not a dead man's look-in. Found that out before +ever you came home. The field's clear far as I'm concerned. Hop to it an' +try yore luck." + +Dave took his advice, within the hour. He found Joyce at home in the +kitchen. She was making pies energetically. The sleeves of her dress were +rolled up to the elbows and there was a dab of flour on her temple where +she had brushed back a rebellious wisp of hair. + +She blushed prettily at sight of her caller. "I didn't know it was you +when I called to come in. Thought it was Keith playing a trick on me." + +Both of them were embarrassed. She did not know what to do with him in +the kitchen and he did not know what to do with himself. The girl was +acutely conscious that yesterday she had flung herself into his arms +without shame. + +"I'll go right on with my pies if you don't mind," she said. "I can talk +while I work." + +"Yes." + +But neither of them talked. She rolled pie-crust while the silence grew +significant. + +"Are your burns still painful?" she asked at last, to make talk. + +"Yes--no. Beg pardon, I--I was thinking of something else." + +Joyce flashed one swift look at him. She knew that an emotional crisis +was upon her. He was going to brush aside the barriers between them. Her +pulses began to beat fast. There was the crash of music in her blood. + +"I've got to tell you, Joyce," he said abruptly. "It's been a fight for +me ever since I came home. I love you. I think I always have--even when +I was in prison." + +She waited, the eyes in her lovely, flushed face shining. + +"I had no right to think of you then," he went on. "I kept away from you. +I crushed down hope. I nursed my bitterness to prove to me there could +never be anything between us. Then Miller confessed and--and we took our +walk over the hills. After that the sun shone. I came out from the mists +where I had been living." + +"I'm glad," she said in a low voice. "But Miller's confession made no +difference in my thought of you. I didn't need that to know you." + +"But I couldn't come to you even then. I knew how Bob Hart felt, and +after all he'd done for me it was fair he should have first chance." + +She looked at him, smiling shyly. "You're very generous." + +"No. I thought you cared for him. It seemed to me any woman must. There +aren't many men like Bob." + +"Not many," she agreed. "But I couldn't love Bob because"--her steadfast +eyes met his bravely--"because of another man. Always have loved him, +ever since that night years ago when he saved my father's life. Do you +really truly love me, Dave?" + +"God knows I do," he said, almost in a whisper. + +"I'm glad--oh, awf'ly glad." She gave him her hands, tears in her soft +brown eyes. "Because I've been waiting for you so long. I didn't know +whether you ever were coming to me." + +Crawford found them there ten minutes later. He was looking for Joyce to +find him a collar-button that was missing. + +"Dawggone my hide!" he fumed, and stopped abruptly, the collar-button +forgotten. + +Joyce flew out of Dave's arms into her father's. + +"Oh, Daddy, Daddy, I'm so happy," she whispered from the depths of his +shoulder. + +The cattleman looked at Dave, and his rough face worked. "Boy, you're +in luck. Be good to her, or I'll skin you alive." He added, by way of +softening this useless threat, "I'd rather it was you than anybody on +earth, Dave." + +The young man looked at her, his Joy-in-life, the woman who had brought +him back to youth and happiness, and he answered with a surge of emotion: + +"I'll sure try." + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gunsight Pass, by William MacLeod Raine + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14574 *** 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..551add2 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #14574 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14574) diff --git a/old/14574-8.txt b/old/14574-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d917c83 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14574-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10852 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Gunsight Pass, 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: Gunsight Pass + How Oil Came to the Cattle Country and Brought a New West + +Author: William MacLeod Raine + +Release Date: January 3, 2005 [EBook #14574] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GUNSIGHT PASS *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Beginners Projects, Mary Meehan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + + GUNSIGHT PASS + + HOW OIL CAME TO THE CATTLE COUNTRY AND BROUGHT A NEW WEST + + BY WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE + +AUTHOR OF THE BIG-TOWN ROUND-UP, A MAN FOUR SQUARE, THE YUKON TRAIL, ETC. + + 1921 + + + + +TO JAMES H. LANGLEY + +WHO LIVED MANY OF THESE PAGES IN THE DAYS OF HIS HOT-BLOODED YOUTH + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. "CROOKED AS A DOG'S HIND LAIG" + + II. THE RACE + + III. DAVE RIDES ON HIS SPURS + + IV. THE PAINT HOSS DISAPPEARS + + V. SUPPER AT DELMONICO'S INTERRUPTED + + VI. BY WAY OF A WINDOW + + VII. BOB HART TAKES A HAND + + VIII. THE D BAR LAZY R BOYS MEET AN ANGEL + + IX. GUNSIGHT PASS + + X. THE CATTLE TRAIN + + XI. THE NIGHT CLERK GETS BUSY PRONTO + + XII. THE LAW PUZZLES DAVE + + XIII. FOR MURDER + + XIV. TEN YEARS + + XV. IN DENVER + + XVI. DAVE MEETS TWO FRIENDS AND A FOE + + XVII. OIL + + XVIII. DOBLE PAYS A VISIT + + XIX. AN INVOLUNTARY BATH + + XX. THE LITTLE MOTHER FREES HER MIND + + XXI. THE HOLD-UP + + XXII. NUMBER THREE COMES IN + + XXIII. THE GUSHER + + XXIV. SHORTY + + XXV. MILLER TALKS + + XXVI. DAVE ACCEPTS AN INVITATION + + XXVII. AT THE JACKPOT + + XXVIII. DAVE MEETS A FINANCIER + + XXIX. THREE IN CONSULTATION + + XXX. ON THE FLYER + + XXXI. TWO ON THE HILLTOPS + + XXXII. DAVE BECOMES AN OFFICE MAN + + XXXIII. ON THE DODGE + + XXXIV. A PLEASANT EVENING + + XXXV. FIRE IN THE CHAPARRAL + + XXXVI. FIGHTING FIRE + + XXXVII. SHORTY ASK A QUESTION + + XXXVIII. DUG DOBLE RIDES INTO THE HILLS + + XXXIX. THE TUNNEL + + XL. A MESSAGE + + XLI. HANK BRINGS BAD NEWS + + XLII. SHORTY IS AWAKENED + + XLIII. JUAN OTERO IS CONSCRIPTED + + XLIV. THE BULLDOG BARKS + + XLV. JOYCE MAKES PIES + + + + +GUNSIGHT PASS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +"CROOKED AS A DOG'S HIND LAIG" + + +It was a land of splintered peaks, of deep, dry gorges, of barren mesas +burnt by the suns of a million torrid summers. The normal condition of it +was warfare. Life here had to protect itself with a tough, callous rind, +to attack with a swift, deadly sting. Only the fit survived. + +But moonlight had magically touched the hot, wrinkled earth with a fairy +godmother's wand. It was bathed in a weird, mysterious beauty. Into the +crotches of the hills lakes of wondrous color had been poured at sunset. +The crests had flamed with crowns of glory, the cañons become deep pools +of blue and purple shadow. Blurred by kindly darkness, the gaunt ridges +had softened to pastels of violet and bony mountains to splendid +sentinels keeping watch over a gulf of starlit space. + +Around the camp-fire the drivers of the trail herd squatted on their +heels or lay sprawled at indolent ease. The glow of the leaping flames +from the twisted mesquite lit their lean faces, tanned to bronzed health +by the beat of an untempered sun and the sweep of parched winds. Most of +them were still young, scarcely out of their boyhood; a few had reached +maturity. But all were products of the desert. The high-heeled boots, the +leather chaps, the kerchiefs knotted round the neck, were worn at its +insistence. Upon every line of their features, every shade of their +thought, it had stamped its brand indelibly. + +The talk was frank and elemental. It had the crisp crackle that goes with +free, unfettered youth. In a parlor some of it would have been offensive, +but under the stars of the open desert it was as natural as the life +itself. They spoke of the spring rains, of the Crawford-Steelman feud, of +how they meant to turn Malapi upside down in their frolic when they +reached town. They "rode" each other with jokes that were familiar old +friends. Their horse play was rough but good-natured. + +Out of the soft shadows of the summer night a boy moved from the remuda +toward the camp-fire. He was a lean, sandy-haired young fellow, his +figure still lank and unfilled. In another year his shoulders would be +broader, his frame would take on twenty pounds. As he sat down on the +wagon tongue at the edge of the firelit circle the stringiness of his +appearance became more noticeable. + +A young man waved a hand toward him by way of introduction. "Gents of the +D Bar Lazy R outfit, we now have with us roostin' on the wagon tongue Mr. +David Sanders, formerly of Arizona, just returned from makin' love to his +paint hoss. Mr. Sanders will make oration on the why, wherefore, and +how-come-it of Chiquito's superiority to all other equines whatever." + +The youth on the wagon tongue smiled. His blue eyes were gentle and +friendly. From his pocket he had taken a knife and was sharpening it on +one of his dawn-at-the-heel-boots. + +"I'd like right well to make love to that pinto my own se'f, Bob," +commented a weather-beaten puncher. "Any old time Dave wants to saw him +off onto me at sixty dollars I'm here to do business." + +"You're sure an easy mark, Buck," grunted a large fat man leaning against +a wheel. His white, expressionless face and soft hands differentiated him +from the tough range-riders. He did not belong with the outfit, but had +joined it the day before with George Doble, a half-brother of the trail +foreman, to travel with it as far as Malapi. In the Southwest he was +known as Ad Miller. The two men had brought with them in addition to +their own mounts a led pack-horse. + +Doble backed up his partner. "Sure are, Buck. I can get cowponies for ten +and fifteen dollars--all I want of 'em," he said, and contrived by the +lift of his lip to make the remark offensive. + +"Not ponies like Chiquito," ventured Sanders amiably. + +"That so?" jeered Doble. + +He looked at David out of a sly and shifty eye. He had only one. The +other had been gouged out years ago in a drunken fracas. + +"You couldn't get Chiquito for a hundred dollars. Not for sale," the +owner of the horse said, a little stiffly. + +Miller's fat paunch shook with laughter. "I reckon not--at that price. +I'd give all of fohty for him." + +"Different here," replied Doble. "What has this pinto got that makes him +worth over thirty?" + +"He's some bronc," explained Bob Hart. "Got a bagful of tricks, a nice +disposition, and sure can burn the wind." + +"Yore friend must be valuin' them parlor tricks at ten dollars apiece," +murmured Miller. "He'd ought to put him in a show and not keep him to +chase cow tails with." + +"At that, I've seen circus hosses that weren't one two three with +Chiquito. He'll shake hands and play dead and dance to a mouth-organ and +come a-runnin' when Dave whistles." + +"You don't say." The voice of the fat man was heavy with sarcasm. "And on +top of all that edjucation he can run too." + +The temper of Sanders began to take an edge. He saw no reason why these +strangers should run on him, to use the phrase of the country. "I don't +claim my pinto's a racer, but he can travel." + +"Hmp!" grunted Miller skeptically. + +"I'm here to say he can," boasted the owner, stung by the manner of the +other. + +"Don't look to me like no racer," Doble dissented. "Why, I'd be 'most +willin' to bet that pack-horse of ours, Whiskey Bill, can beat him." + +Buck Byington snorted. "Pack-horse, eh?" The old puncher's brain was +alive with suspicions. On account of the lameness of his horse he had +returned to camp in the middle of the day and had discovered the two +newcomers trying out the speed of the pinto. He wondered now if this +precious pair of crooks had been getting a line on the pony for future +use. It occurred to him that Dave was being engineered into a bet. + +The chill, hard eyes of Miller met his. "That's what he said, Buck--our +pack-horse." + +For just an instant the old range-rider hesitated, then shrugged his +shoulders. It was none of his business. He was a cautious man, not +looking for trouble. Moreover, the law of the range is that every man +must play his own hand. So he dropped the matter with a grunt that +expressed complete understanding and derision. + +Bob Hart helped things along. "Jokin' aside, what's the matter with a +race? We'll be on the Salt Flats to-morrow. I've got ten bucks says the +pinto can beat yore Whiskey Bill." + +"Go you once," answered Doble after a moment's apparent consideration. +"Bein' as I'm drug into this I'll be a dead-game sport. I got fifty +dollars more to back the pack-horse. How about it, Sanders? You got +the sand to cover that? Or are you plumb scared of my broomtail?" + +"Betcha a month's pay--thirty-five dollars. Give you an order on the boss +if I lose," retorted Dave. He had not meant to bet, but he could not +stand this fellow's insolent manner. + +"That order good, Dug?" asked Doble of his half-brother. + +The foreman nodded. He was a large leather-faced man in the late +thirties. His reputation in the cattle country was that of a man ill to +cross. Dug Doble was a good cowman--none better. Outside of that his +known virtues were negligible, except for the primal one of gameness. + +"Might as well lose a few bucks myself, seeing as Whiskey Bill belongs to +me," said Miller with his wheezy laugh. "Who wants to take a whirl, +boys?" + +Inside of three minutes he had placed a hundred dollars. The terms of the +race were arranged and the money put in the hands of the foreman. + +"Each man to ride his own caballo," suggested Hart slyly. + +This brought a laugh. The idea of Ad Miller's two hundred and fifty +pounds in the seat of a jockey made for hilarity. + +"I reckon George will have to ride the broomtail. We don't aim to break +its back," replied Miller genially. + +His partner was a short man with a spare, wiry body. Few men trusted him +after a glance at the mutilated face. The thin, hard lips gave warning +that he had sold himself to evil. The low forehead, above which the hair +was plastered flat in an arc, advertised low mentality. + +An hour later Buck Byington drew Sanders aside. + +"Dave, you're a chuckle-haided rabbit. If ever I seen tinhorn sports them +two is such. They're collectin' a livin' off'n suckers. Didn't you sabe +that come-on stuff? Their pack-horse is a ringer. They tried him out +this evenin', but I noticed they ran under a blanket. Both of 'em are +crooked as a dog's hind laig." + +"Maybeso," admitted the young man. "But Chiquito never went back on me +yet. These fellows may be overplayin' their hand, don't you reckon?" + +"Not a chanct. That tumblebug Miller is one fishy proposition, and his +sidekick Doble--say, he's the kind of bird that shoots you in the stomach +while he's shakin' hands with you. They're about as warm-hearted as a +loan shark when he's turnin' on the screws--and about as impulsive. Me, +I aim to button up my pocket when them guys are around." + +Dave returned to the fire. The two visitors were sitting side by side, +and the leaping flames set fantastic shadows of them moving. One of +these, rooted where Miller sat, was like a bloated spider watching its +victim. The other, dwarfed and prehensile, might in its uncanny +silhouette have been an imp of darkness from the nether regions. + +Most of the riders had already rolled up in their blankets and fallen +asleep. To a reduced circle Miller was telling the story of how his +pack-horse won its name. + +"... so I noticed he was actin' kinda funny and I seen four pin-pricks in +his nose. O' course I hunted for Mr. Rattler and killed him, then give +Bill a pint of whiskey. It ce'tainly paralyzed him proper. He got +salivated as a mule whacker on a spree. His nose swelled up till it was +big as a barrel--never did get down to normal again. Since which the ol' +plug has been Whiskey Bill." + +This reminiscence did not greatly entertain Dave. He found his blankets, +rolled up in them, and promptly fell asleep. For once he dreamed, and his +dreams were not pleasant. He thought that he was caught in a net woven by +a horribly fat spider which watched him try in vain to break the web that +tightened on his arms and legs. Desperately he struggled to escape while +the monster grinned at him maliciously, and the harder he fought the more +securely was he enmeshed. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE RACE + + +The coyotes were barking when the cook's triangle brought Dave from his +blankets. The objects about him were still mysterious in the pre-dawn +darkness. The shouting of the wranglers and the bells of the remuda +came musically as from a great distance. Hart joined his friend and the +two young men walked out to the remuda together. Each rider had on the +previous night belled the mount he wanted, for he knew that in the +morning it would be too dark to distinguish one bronco from another. The +animals were rim-milling, going round and round in a circle to escape the +lariat. + +Dave rode in close and waited, rope ready, his ears attuned to the sound +of his own bell. A horse rushed jingling past. The rope snaked out, fell +true, tightened over the neck of the cowpony, brought up the animal +short. Instantly it surrendered, making no further, attempt to escape. +The roper made a half-hitch round the nose of the bronco, swung to its +back, and cantered back to camp. + +In the gray dawn near details were becoming visible. The mountains began +to hover on the edge of the young world. The wind was blowing across half +a continent. + +Sanders saddled, then rode out upon the mesa. He whistled sharply. There +came an answering nicker, and presently out of the darkness a pony +trotted. The pinto was a sleek and glossy little fellow, beautiful in +action and gentle as a kitten. + +The young fellow took the well-shaped head in his arms, fondled the +soft, dainty nose that nuzzled in his pocket for sugar, fed Chiquito a +half-handful of the delicacy in his open palm, and put the pony through +the repertoire of tricks he had taught his pet. + +"You wanta shake a leg to-day, old fellow, and throw dust in that +tinhorn's face," he murmured to his four-footed friend, gentling it with +little pats of love and admiration. "Adios, Chiquito. I know you won't +throw off on yore old pal. So long, old pie-eater." + +Across the mesa Dave galloped back, swung from the saddle, and made a +bee-line for breakfast. The other men were already busy at this important +business. From the tail of the chuck wagon he took a tin cup and a tin +plate. He helped himself to coffee, soda biscuits, and a strip of steak +just forked from a large kettle of boiling lard. Presently more coffee, +more biscuits, and more steak went the way of the first helping. The +hard-riding life of the desert stimulates a healthy appetite. + +The punchers of the D Bar Lazy R were moving a large herd to a new range. +It was made up of several lots bought from smaller outfits that had gone +out of business under the pressure of falling prices, short grass, and +the activity of rustlers. The cattle had been loose-bedded in a gulch +close at hand, the upper end of which was sealed by an impassable cliff. +Many such cañons in the wilder part of the mountains, fenced across the +face to serve as a corral, had been used by rustlers as caches into which +to drift their stolen stock. This one had no doubt more than once played +such a part in days past. + +Expertly the riders threw the cattle back to the mesa and moved them +forward. Among the bunch one could find the T Anchor brand, the Circle +Cross, the Diamond Tail, and the X-Z, scattered among the cows burned +with the D Bar Lazy R, which was the original brand of the owner, +Emerson Crawford. + +The sun rose and filled the sky. In a heavy cloud of dust the cattle +trailed steadily toward the distant hills. + +Near noon Buck, passing Dave where he rode as drag driver in the wake of +the herd, shouted a greeting at the young man. "Tur'ble hot. I'm spittin' +cotton." + +Dave nodded. His eyes were red and sore from the alkali dust, his throat +dry as a lime kiln. "You done, said it, Buck. Hotter 'n hell or Yuma." + +"Dug says for us to throw off at Seven-Mile Hole." + +"I won't make no holler at that." + +The herd leaders, reading the signs of a spring close at hand, quickened +the pace. With necks outstretched, bawling loudly, they hurried forward. +Forty-eight hours ago they had last satisfied their thirst. Usually Doble +watered each noon, but the desert yesterday had been dry as Sahara. Only +such moisture was available as could be found in black grama and needle +grass. + +The point of the herd swung in toward the cottonwoods that straggled down +from the draw. For hours the riders were kept busy moving forward the +cattle that had been watered and holding back the pressure of thirsty +animals. + +Again the outfit took the desert trail. Heat waves played on the sand. +Vegetation grew scant except for patches of cholla and mesquite, a +sand-cherry bush here and there, occasionally a clump of shining poison +ivy. + +Sunset brought them to the Salt Flats. The foreman gave orders to throw +off and make camp. + +A course was chosen for the race. From a selected point the horses +were to run to a clump of mesquite, round it, and return to the +starting-place. Dug Doble was chosen both starter and judge. + +Dave watched Whiskey Bill with the trained eyes of a horseman. The animal +was an ugly brute as to the head. Its eyes were set too close, and the +shape of the nose was deformed from the effects of the rattlesnake's +sting. But in legs and body it had the fine lines of a racer. The horse +was built for speed. The cowpuncher's heart sank. His bronco was fast, +willing, and very intelligent, but the little range pony had not been +designed to show its heels to a near-thoroughbred. + +"Are you ready?" Doble asked of the two men in the saddles. + +His brother said, "Let 'er go!" Sanders nodded. The revolver barked. + +Chiquito was off like a flash of light, found its stride instantly. The +training of a cowpony makes for alertness, for immediate response. Before +it had covered seventy-five yards the pinto was three lengths to the +good. Dave, flying toward the halfway post, heard his friend Hart's +triumphant "Yip yip yippy yip!" coming to him on the wind. + +He leaned forward, patting his horse on the shoulder, murmuring words of +encouragement into its ear. But he knew, without turning round, that the +racer galloping at his heels was drawing closer. Its long shadow thrown +in front of it by the westering sun, reached to Dave's stirrups, crept to +Chiquito's head, moved farther toward the other shadow plunging wildly +eastward. Foot by foot the distance between the horses lessened to two +lengths, to one, to half a length. The ugly head of the racer came +abreast of the cowpuncher. With sickening certainty the range-rider knew +that his Chiquito was doing the best that was in it. Whiskey Bill was a +faster horse. + +Simultaneously he became aware of two things. The bay was no longer +gaining. The halfway mark was just ahead. The cowpuncher knew exactly how +to make the turn with the least possible loss of speed and ground. Too +often, in headlong pursuit of a wild hill steer, he had whirled as on a +dollar, to leave him any doubt now. Scarce slackening speed, he swept the +pinto round the clump of mesquite and was off for home. + +Dave was halfway back before he was sure that the thud of Whiskey Bill's +hoofs was almost at his heels. He called on the cowpony for a last spurt. +The plucky little horse answered the call, gathered itself for the home +stretch, for a moment held its advantage. Again Bob Hart's yell drifted +to Sanders. + +Then he knew that the bay was running side by side with Chiquito, was +slowly creeping to the front. The two horses raced down the stretch +together, Whiskey Bill half a length in the lead and gaining at every +stride. Daylight showed between them when they crossed the line. Chiquito +had been outrun by a speedier horse. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DAVE RIDES ON HIS SPURS + + +Hart came up to his friend grinning. "Well, you old horn-toad, we got no +kick comin'. Chiquito run a mighty pretty race. Only trouble was his +laigs wasn't long enough." + +The owner of the pony nodded, a lump in his throat. He was not thinking +about his thirty-five dollars, but about the futile race into which he +had allowed his little beauty to be trapped. Dave would not be twenty-one +till coming grass, and it still hurt his boyish pride to think that his +favorite had been beaten. + +Another lank range-rider drifted up. "Same here, Dave. I'll kiss my +twenty bucks good-bye cheerful. You 'n' the li'l hoss run the best race, +at that. Chiquito started like a bullet out of a gun, and say, boys! how +he did swing round on the turn." + +"Much obliged, Steve. I reckon he sure done his best," said Sanders +gratefully. + +The voice of George Doble cut in, openly and offensively jubilant. "Me, +I'd ruther show the way at the finish than at the start. You're more +liable to collect the mazuma. I'll tell you now that broomtail never +had a chance to beat Whiskey Bill." + +"Yore hoss can run, seh," admitted Dave. + +"I _know_ it, but you don't. He didn't have to take the kinks out of his +legs to beat that plug." + +"You get our money," said Hart quietly. "Ain't that enough without +rubbin' it in?" + +"Sure I get yore money--easy money, at that," boasted Doble. "Got any +more you want to put up on the circus bronc?" + +Steve Russell voiced his sentiments curtly. "You make me good and tired, +Doble. There's only one thing I hate more'n a poor loser--and that's a +poor winner. As for putting my money on the pinto, I'll just say this: +I'll bet my li'l' pile he can beat yore bay twenty miles, a hundred +miles, or five hundred." + +"Not any, thanks. Whiskey Bill is a racer, not a mule team," Miller said, +laughing. + +Steve loosened the center-fire cinch of his pony's saddle. He noted that +there was no real geniality in the fat man's mirth. It was a surface +thing designed to convey an effect of good-fellowship. Back of it lay +the chill implacability of the professional gambler. + +The usual give-and-take of gay repartee was missing at supper that night. +Since they were of the happy-go-lucky, outdoor West it did not greatly +distress the D Bar Lazy R riders to lose part of their pay checks. Even +if it had, their spirits would have been unimpaired, for it is written in +their code that a man must take his punishment without whining. What hurt +was that they had been tricked, led like lambs to the killing. None of +them doubted now that the pack-horse of the gamblers was a "ringer." +These men had deliberately crossed the path of the trail outfit in order +to take from the vaqueros their money. + +The punchers were sulky. Instead of a fair race they had been up against +an open-and-shut proposition, as Russell phrased it. The jeers of Doble +did not improve their tempers. The man was temperamentally mean-hearted. +He could not let his victims alone. + +"They say one's born every minute, Ad. Dawged if I don't believe it," he +sneered. + +Miller was not saying much himself, but his fat stomach shook at this +sally. If his partner could goad the boys into more betting he was quite +willing to divide the profits. + +Audibly Hart yawned and murmured his sentiments aloud. "I'm liable to +tell these birds what I think of 'em, Steve, if they don't spend quite +some time layin' off'n us." + +"Don't tell us out loud. We might hear you," advised Doble insolently. + +"In regards to that, I'd sure worry if you did." + +Dave was at that moment returning to his place with a cup of hot coffee. +By some perverse trick of fate his glance fell on Doble's sinister face +of malignant triumph. His self-control snapped, and in an instant the +whole course of his life was deflected from the path it would otherwise +have taken. With a flip he tossed up the tin cup so that the hot coffee +soused the crook. + +"Goddlemighty!" screamed Doble, leaping to his feet. He reached for his +forty-five, just as Sanders closed with him. The range-rider's revolver, +like that of most of his fellows, was in a blanket roll in the wagon. + +Miller, with surprising agility for a fat man, got to his feet and +launched himself at the puncher. Dave flung the smaller of his opponents +back against Steve, who was sitting tailor fashion beside him. The gunman +tottered and fell over Russell, who lost no time in pinning his hands to +the ground while Hart deftly removed the revolver from his pocket. + +Swinging round to face Miller, Dave saw at once that the big man had +chosen not to draw his gun. In spite of his fat the gambler was a +rough-and-tumble fighter of parts. The extra weight had come in recent +years, but underneath it lay roped muscles and heavy bones. Men often +remarked that they had never seen a fat man who could handle himself like +Ad Miller. The two clinched. Dave had the under hold and tried to trip +his bulkier foe. The other side-stepped, circling round. He got one hand +under the boy's chin and drove it up and back, flinging the range-rider +a dozen yards. + +Instantly Dave plunged at him. He had to get at close quarters, for he +could not tell when Miller would change his mind and elect to fight with +a gun. The man had chosen a hand-to-hand tussle, Dave knew, because he +was sure he could beat so stringy an opponent as himself. Once he got the +grip on him that he wanted the big gambler would crush him by sheer +strength. So, though the youngster had to get close, he dared not clinch. +His judgment was that his best bet was his fists. + +He jabbed at the big white face, ducked, and jabbed again. Now he was in +the shine of the moon; now he was in darkness. A red streak came out on +the white face opposite, and he knew he had drawn blood. Miller roared +like a bull and flailed away at him. More than one heavy blow jarred him, +sent a bolt of pain shooting through him. The only thing he saw was that +shining face. He pecked away at it with swift jabs, taking what +punishment he must and dodging the rest. + +Miller was furious. He had intended to clean up this bantam in about a +minute. He rushed again, broke through Dave's defense, and closed with +him. His great arms crushed into the ribs of his lean opponent. As they +swung round and round, Dave gasped for breath. He twisted and squirmed, +trying to escape that deadly hug. Somehow he succeeded in tripping his +huge foe. + +They went down locked together, Dave underneath. The puncher knew that if +he had room Miller would hammer his face to a pulp. He drew himself close +to the barrel body, arms and legs wound tight like hoops. + +Miller gave a yell of pain. Instinctively Dave moved his legs higher and +clamped them tighter. The yell rose again, became a scream of agony. + +"Lemme loose!" shrieked the man on top. "My Gawd, you're killin' me!" + +Dave had not the least idea what was disturbing Miller's peace of mind, +but whatever it was moved to his advantage. He clamped tighter, working +his heels into another secure position. The big man bellowed with pain. +"Take him off! Take him off!" he implored in shrill crescendo. + +"What's all this?" demanded an imperious voice. + +Miller was torn howling from the arms and legs that bound him and Dave +found himself jerked roughly to his feet. The big raw-boned foreman was +glaring at him above his large hook nose. The trail boss had been out +at the remuda with the jingler when the trouble began. He had arrived +in time to rescue his fat friend. + +"What's eatin' you, Sanders?" he demanded curtly. + +"He jumped George!" yelped Miller. + +Breathing hard, Dave faced his foe warily. He was in a better strategic +position than he had been, for he had pulled the revolver of the fat man +from its holster just as they were dragged apart. It was in his right +hand now, pressed close to his hip, ready for instant use if need be. He +could see without looking that Doble was still struggling ineffectively +in the grip of Russell. + +"Dave stumbled and spilt some coffee on George; then George he tried to +gun him. Miller mixed in then," explained Hart. + +The foreman glared. "None of this stuff while you're on the trail with my +outfit. Get that, Sanders? I won't have it." + +"Dave he couldn't hardly he'p hisse'f," Buck Byington broke in. "They was +runnin' on him considerable, Dug." + +"I ain't askin' for excuses. I'm tellin' you boys what's what," retorted +the road boss. "Sanders, give him his gun." + +The cowpuncher took a step backward. He had no intention of handing a +loaded gun to Miller while the gambler was in his present frame of mind. +That might be equivalent to suicide. He broke the revolver, turned the +cylinder, and shook out the cartridges. The empty weapon he tossed on the +ground. + +"He ripped me with his spurs," Miller said sullenly. "That's howcome I +had to turn him loose." + +Dave looked down at the man's legs. His trousers were torn to shreds. +Blood trickled down the lacerated calves where the spurs had roweled the +flesh cruelly. No wonder Miller had suddenly lost interest in the fight. +The vaquero thanked his lucky stars that he had not taken off his spurs +and left them with the saddle. + +The first thing that Dave did was to strike straight for the wagon where +his roll of bedding was. He untied the rope, flung open the blankets, and +took from inside the forty-five he carried to shoot rattlesnakes. This he +shoved down between his shirt and trousers where it would be handy for +use in case of need. His roll he brought back with him as a justification +for the trip to the wagon. He had no intention of starting anything. +All he wanted was not to be caught at a disadvantage a second time. + +Miller and the two Dobles were standing a little way apart talking +together in low tones. The fat man, his foot on the spoke of a wagon +wheel, was tying up one of his bleeding calves with a bandanna +handkerchief. Dave gathered that his contribution to the conversation +consisted mainly of fervent and almost tearful profanity. + +The brothers appeared to be debating some point with heat. George +insisted, and the foreman gave up with a lift of his big shoulders. + +"Have it yore own way. I hate to have you leave us after I tell you +there'll be no more trouble, but if that's how you feel about it I got +nothin' to say. What I want understood is this"--Dug Doble raised his +voice for all to hear--"that I'm boss of this outfit and won't stand for +any rough stuff. If the boys, or any one of 'em, can't lose their money +without bellyachin', they can get their time pronto." + +The two gamblers packed their race-horse, saddled, and rode away without +a word to any of the range-riders. The men round the fire gave no sign +that they knew the confidence men were on the map until after they had +gone. Then tongues began to wag, the foreman having gone to the edge of +the camp with them. + +"Well, my feelin's ain't hurt one li'l' bit because they won't play with +us no more," Steve Russell said, smiling broadly. + +"Can you blame that fat guy for not wantin' to play with Dave here?" +asked Hart, and he beamed at the memory of what he had seen. "Son, you +ce'tainly gave him one surprise party when yore rowels dug in." + +"Wonder to me he didn't stampede the cows, way he hollered," grinned a +third. "I don't grudge him my ten plunks. Not none. Dave he give me my +money's worth that last round." + +"I had a little luck," admitted Dave modestly. + +"Betcha," agreed Steve. "I was just startin' over to haul the fat guy off +Dave when he began bleatin' for us to come help him turn loose the bear. +I kinda took my time then." + +"Onct I went to a play called 'All's Well That Ends Well,'" said Byington +reminiscently. "At the Tabor Grand the-á-ter, in Denver." + +"Did it tell how a freckled cow-punch rode a fat tinhorn on his spurs?" +asked Hart. + +"Bet he wears stovepipes on his laigs next time he mixes it with Dave," +suggested one coffee-brown youth. "Well, looks like the show's over for +to-night. I'm gonna roll in." Motion carried unanimously. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE PAINT HOSS DISAPPEARS + + +Wakened by the gong, Dave lay luxuriously in the warmth of his blankets. +It was not for several moments that he remembered the fight or the +circumstances leading to it. The grin that lit his boyish face at thought +of its unexpected conclusion was a fleeting one, for he discovered that +it hurt his face to smile. Briskly he rose, and grunted "Ouch!" His sides +were sore from the rib squeezing of Miller's powerful arms. + +Byington walked out to the remuda with him. "How's the man-tamer this +glad mo'nin'?" he asked of Dave. + +"Fine and dandy, old lizard." + +"You sure got the deadwood on him when yore spurs got into action. A +man's like a watermelon. You cayn't tell how good he is till you thump +him. Miller is right biggity, and they say he's sudden death with a gun. +But when it come down to cases he hadn't the guts to go through and stand +the gaff." + +"He's been livin' soft too long, don't you reckon?" + +"No, sir. He just didn't have the sand in his craw to hang on and finish +you off whilst you was rippin' up his laigs." + +Dave roped his mount and rode out to meet Chiquito. The pinto was an +aristocrat in his way. He preferred to choose his company, was a little +disdainful of the cowpony that had no accomplishments. Usually he grazed +a short distance from the remuda, together with one of Bob Hart's string. +The two ponies had been brought up in the same bunch. + +This morning Dave's whistle brought no nicker of joy, no thud of hoofs +galloping out of the darkness to him. He rode deeper into the desert. No +answer came to his calls. At a canter he cut across the plain to the +wrangler. That young man had seen nothing of Chiquito since the evening +before, but this was not at all unusual. + +The cowpuncher returned to camp for breakfast and got permission of the +foreman to look for the missing horses. + +Beyond the flats was a country creased with draws and dry arroyos. From +one to another of these Dave went without finding a trace of the animals. +All day he pushed through cactus and mesquite heavy with gray dust. In +the late afternoon he gave up for the time and struck back to the flats. +It was possible that the lost broncos had rejoined the remuda of their +own accord or had been found by some of the riders gathering up strays. + +Dave struck the herd trail and followed it toward the new camp. A +horseman came out of the golden west of the sunset to meet him. For a +long time he saw the figure rising and falling in the saddle, the pony +moving in the even fox-trot of the cattle country. + +The man was Bob Hart. + +"Found 'em?" shouted Dave when he was close enough to be heard. + +"No, and we won't--not this side of Malapi. Those scalawags didn't make +camp last night. They kep' travelin'. If you ask me, they're movin' yet, +and they've got our broncs with 'em." + +This had already occurred to Dave as a possibility. "Any proof?" he asked +quietly. + +"A-plenty. I been ridin' on the point all day. Three-four times we cut +trail of five horses. Two of the five are bein' ridden. My Four-Bits hoss +has got a broken front hoof. So has one of the five." + +"Movin' fast, are they?" + +"You're damn whistlin'. They're hivin' off for parts unknown. Malapi +first off, looks like. They got friends there." + +"Steelman and his outfit will protect them while they hunt cover and make +a getaway. Miller mentioned Denver before the race--said he was figurin' +on goin' there. Maybe--" + +"He was probably lyin'. You can't tell. Point is, we've got to get busy. +My notion is we'd better make a bee-line for Malapi right away," proposed +Bob. + +"We'll travel all night. No use wastin' any more time." + +Dug Doble received their decision sourly. "It don't tickle me a heap to +be left short-handed because you two boys have got an excuse to get to +town quicker." + +Hart looked him straight in the eye. "Call it an excuse if you want to. +We're after a pair of shorthorn crooks that stole our horses." + +The foreman flushed angrily. "Don't come bellyachin' to me about yore +broomtails. I ain't got 'em." + +"We know who's got 'em," said Dave evenly. "What we want is a wage check +so as we can cash it at Malapi." + +"You don't get it," returned the big foreman bluntly. "We pay off when we +reach the end of the drive." + +"I notice you paid yore brother and Miller when we gave an order for it," +Hart retorted with heat. + +"A different proposition. They hadn't signed up for this drive like you +boys did. You'll get what's comin' to you when I pay off the others. +You'll not get it before." + +The two riders retired sulkily. They felt it was not fair, but on the +trail the foreman is an autocrat. From the other riders they borrowed a +few dollars and gave in exchange orders on their pay checks. + +Within an hour they were on the road. Fresh horses had been roped from +the remuda and were carrying them at an even Spanish jog-trot through the +night. The stars came out, clear and steady above a ghostly world at +sleep. The desert was a place of mystery, of vast space peopled by +strange and misty shapes. + +The plain stretched vaguely before them. Far away was the thin outline of +the range which enclosed the valley. The riders held their course by +means of that trained sixth sense of direction their occupation had +developed. + +They spoke little. Once a coyote howled dismally from the edge of the +mesa. For the most part there was no sound except the chuffing of the +horses' movements and the occasional ring of a hoof on the baked ground. + +The gray dawn, sifting into the sky, found them still traveling. The +mountains came closer, grew more definite. The desert flamed again, dry, +lifeless, torrid beneath a sky of turquoise. Dust eddies whirled in +inverted cones, wind devils playing in spirals across the sand. +Tablelands, mesas, wide plains, desolate lava stretches. Each in turn was +traversed by these lean, grim, bronzed riders. + +They reached the foothills and left behind the desert shimmering in the +dancing heat. In a deep gorge, where the hill creases gave them shade, +the punchers threw off the trail, unsaddled, hobbled their horses, and +stole a few hours' sleep. + +In the late afternoon they rode back to the trail through a draw, the +ponies wading fetlock deep in yellow, red, blue, and purple flowers. The +mountains across the valley looked in the dry heat as though made of +_papier-mâché_. Closer at hand the undulations of sand hills stretched +toward the pass for which they were making. + +A mule deer started out of a dry wash and fled into the sunset light. The +long, stratified faces of rock escarpments caught the glow of the sliding +sun and became battlemented towers of ancient story. + +The riders climbed steadily now, no longer engulfed in the ground swell +of land waves. They breathed an air like wine, strong, pure, bracing. +Presently their way led them into a hill pocket, which ran into a gorge +of piñons stretching toward Gunsight Pass. + +The stars were out again when they looked down from the other side of the +pass upon the lights of Malapi. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +SUPPER AT DELMONICO'S INTERRUPTED + + +The two D Bar Lazy R punchers ate supper at Delmonico's. The restaurant +was owned by Wong Chung. A Cantonese celestial did the cooking and +another waited on table. The price of a meal was twenty-five cents, +regardless of what one ordered. + +Hop Lee, the waiter, grinned at the frolicsome youths with the serenity +of a world-old wisdom. + +"Bleef steak, plork chop, lamb chop, hlam'neggs, clorn bleef hash, +Splanish stew," he chanted, reciting the bill of fare. + +"Yes," murmured Bob. + +The waiter said his piece again. + +"Listens good to me," agreed Dave. "Lead it to us." + +"You takee two--bleef steak and hlam'neggs, mebbe," suggested Hop +helpfully. + +"Tha's right. Two orders of everything on the me-an-you, Charlie." + +Hop did not argue with them. He never argued with a customer. If they +stormed at him he took refuge in a suddenly acquired lack of +understanding of English. If they called him Charlie or John or One Lung, +he accepted the name cheerfully and laid it to a racial mental deficiency +of the 'melicans. Now he decided to make a selection himself. + +"Vely well. Bleef steak and hlam'neggs." + +"Fried potatoes done brown, John." + +"Flied plotatoes. Tea or cloffee?" + +"Coffee," decided Dave for both of them. "Warm mine." + +"And custard pie," added Bob. "Made from this year's crop." + +"Aigs sunny side up," directed his friend. + +"Fry mine one on one side and one on the other," Hart continued +facetiously. + +"Vely well." Hop Lee's impassive face betrayed no perplexity as he +departed. In the course of a season he waited on hundreds of wild men +from the hills, drunk and sober. + +Dave helped himself to bread from a plate stacked high with thick slices. +He buttered it and began to eat. Hart did the same. At Delmonico's nobody +ever waited till the meal was served. Just about to attack a second +slice, Dave stopped to stare at his companion. Hart was looking past his +shoulder with alert intentness. Dave turned his head. Two men, leaving +the restaurant, were paying the cashier. + +"They just stepped outa that booth to the right," whispered Bob. + +The men were George Doble and a cowpuncher known as Shorty, a broad, +heavy-set little man who worked for Bradley Steelman, owner of the +Rocking Horse Ranch, what time he was not engaged on nefarious business +of his own. He was wearing a Chihuahua hat and leather chaps with silver +conchas. + +At this moment Hop Lee arrived with dinner. + +Dave sighed as he grinned at his friend. "I need that supper in my +system. I sure do, but I reckon I don't get it." + +"You do not, old lizard," agreed Hart. "I'll say Doble's the most +inconsiderate guy I ever did trail. Why couldn't he 'a' showed up a +half-hour later, dad gum his ornery hide?" + +They paid their bill and passed into the street. Immediately the sound of +a clear, high voice arrested their attention. It vibrated indignation and +dread. + +"What have you done with my father?" came sharply to them on the wings of +the soft night wind. + +A young woman was speaking. She was in a buggy and was talking to two men +on the sidewalk--the two men who had preceded the range-riders out of the +restaurant. + +"Why, Miss, we ain't done a thing to him--nothin' a-tall." The man Shorty +was speaking, and in a tone of honeyed conciliation. It was quite plain +he did not want a scene on the street. + +"That's a lie." The voice of the girl broke for an instant to a sob. "Do +you think I don't know you're Brad Steelman's handy man, that you do his +meanness for him when he snaps his fingers?" + +"You sure do click yore heels mighty loud, Miss." Dave caught in that +soft answer the purr of malice. He remembered now hearing from Buck +Byington that years ago Emerson Crawford had rounded up evidence to send +Shorty to the penitentiary for rebranding through a blanket. "I reckon +you come by it honest. Em always acted like he was God Almighty." + +"Where is he? What's become of him?" she cried. + +"Is yore paw missin'? I'm right sorry to hear that," the cowpuncher +countered with suave irony. He was eager to be gone. His glance followed +Doble, who was moving slowly down the street. + +The girl's face, white and shining in the moonlight, leaned out of the +buggy toward the retreating vaquero. "Don't you dare hurt my father! +Don't you dare!" she warned. The words choked in her tense throat. + +Shorty continued to back away. "You're excited, Miss. You go home an' +think it over reasonable. You'll be sorry you talked this away to me," he +said with unctuous virtue. Then, swiftly, he turned and went straddling +down the walk, his spurs jingling music as he moved. + +Quickly Dave gave directions to his friend. "Duck back into the +restaurant, Bob. Get a pocketful of dry rice from the Chink. Trail those +birds to their nest and find where they roost. Then stick around like a +burr. Scatter rice behind you, and I'll drift along later. First off, I +got to stay and talk with Miss Joyce. And, say, take along a rope. Might +need it." + +A moment later Hart was in the restaurant commandeering rice and Sanders +was lifting his dusty hat to the young woman in the buggy. + +"If I can he'p you any, Miss Joyce," he said. + +Beneath dark and delicate brows she frowned at him. "Who are you?" + +"Dave Sanders my name is. I reckon you never heard tell of me. I punch +cows for yore father." + +Her luminous, hazel-brown eyes steadied in his, read the honesty of his +simple, boyish heart. + +"You heard what I said to that man?" + +"Part of it." + +"Well, it's true. I know it is, but I can't prove it." + +Hart, moving swiftly down the street, waved a hand at his friend as he +passed. Without turning his attention from Joyce Crawford, Dave +acknowledged the signal. + +"How do you know it?" + +"Steelman's men have been watching our house. They were hanging around at +different times day before yesterday. This man Shorty was one." + +"Any special reason for the feud to break out right now?" + +"Father was going to prove up on a claim this week--the one that takes in +the Tularosa water-holes. You know the trouble they've had about it--how +they kept breaking our fences to water their sheep and cattle. Don't you +think maybe they're trying to keep him from proving up?" + +"Maybeso. When did you see him last?" + +Her lip trembled. "Night before last. After supper he started for the +Cattleman's Club, but he never got there." + +"Sure he wasn't called out to one of the ranches unexpected?" + +"I sent out to make sure. He hasn't been seen there." + +"Looks like some of Brad Steelman's smooth work," admitted Dave. "If he +could work yore father to sign a relinquishment--" + +Fire flickered in her eye. "He'd ought to know Dad better." + +"Tha's right too. But Brad needs them water-holes in his business bad. +Without 'em he loses the whole Round Top range. He might take a crack at +turning the screws on yore father." + +"You don't think--?" She stopped, to fight back a sob that filled her +soft throat. + +Dave was not sure what he thought, but he answered cheerfully and +instantly. "No, I don't reckon they've dry-gulched him or anything. +Emerson Crawford is one sure-enough husky citizen. He couldn't either be +shot or rough-housed in town without some one hearin' the noise. What's +more, it wouldn't be their play to injure him, but to force a +relinquishment." + +"That's true. You believe that, don't you?" Joyce cried eagerly. + +"Sure I do." And Dave discovered that his argument or his hopes had for +the moment convinced him. "Now the question is, what's to be done?" + +"Yes," she admitted, and the tremor of the lips told him that she +depended upon him to work out the problem. His heart swelled with glad +pride at the thought. + +"That man who jus' passed is my friend," he told her. "He's trailin' that +duck Shorty. Like as not we'll find out what's stirrin'." + +"I'll go with you," the girl said, vivid lips parted in anticipation. + +"No, you go home. This is a man's job. Soon as I find out anything I'll +let you know." + +"You'll come, no matter what time o' night it is," she pleaded. + +"Yes," he promised. + +Her firm little hand rested a moment in his brown palm. "I'm depending on +you," she murmured in a whisper lifted to a low wail by a stress of +emotion. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +BY WAY OF A WINDOW + + +The trail of rice led down Mission Street, turned at Junipero, crossed +into an alley, and trickled along a dusty road to the outskirts of the +frontier town. + +The responsibility Joyce had put upon him uplifted Dave. He had followed +the horse-race gamblers to town on a purely selfish undertaking. But he +had been caught in a cross-current of fate and was being swept into +dangerous waters for the sake of another. + +Doble and Miller were small fish in the swirl of this more desperate +venture. He knew Brad Steelman by sight and by reputation. The man's +coffee-brown, hatchet face, his restless, black eyes, the high, narrow +shoulders, the slope of nose and chin, combined somehow to give him the +look of a wily and predacious wolf. The boy had never met any one who so +impressed him with a sense of ruthless rapacity. He was audacious and +deadly in attack, but always he covered his tracks cunningly. Suspected +of many crimes, he had been proved guilty of none. It was a safe bet that +now he had a line of retreat worked out in case his plans went awry. + +A soft, low whistle stayed his feet. From behind a greasewood bush Bob +rose and beckoned him. Dave tiptoed to him. Both of them crouched behind +cover while they whispered. + +"The 'dobe house over to the right," said Bob. "I been up and tried to +look in, but they got curtains drawn. I would've like to 've seen how +many gents are present. Nothin' doin'. It's a strictly private party." + +Dave told him what he had learned from the daughter of Emerson Crawford. + +"Might make a gather of boys and raid the joint," suggested Hart. + +"Bad medicine, Bob. Our work's got to be smoother than that. How do we +know they got the old man a prisoner there? What excuse we got for +attacktin' a peaceable house? A friend of mine's brother onct got shot +up makin' a similar mistake. Maybe Crawford's there. Maybe he ain't. Say +he is. All right. There's some gun-play back and forth like as not. A +b'ilin' of men pour outa the place. We go in and find the old man with a +bullet right spang through his forehead. Well, ain't that too bad! In the +rookus his own punchers must 'a' gunned him accidental. How would that +story listen in court?" + +"It wouldn't listen good to me. Howcome Crawford to be a prisoner there, +I'd want to know." + +"Sure you would, and Steelman would have witnesses a-plenty to swear the +old man had just drapped in to see if they couldn't talk things over and +make a settlement of their troubles." + +"All right. What's yore programme, then?" asked Bob. + +"Darned if I know. Say we scout the ground over first." + +They made a wide circuit and approached the house from the rear, worming +their way through the Indian grass toward the back door. Dave crept +forward and tried the door. It was locked. The window was latched and the +blind lowered. He drew back and rejoined his companion. + +"No chance there," he whispered. + +"How about the roof?" asked Hart. + +It was an eight-roomed house. From the roof two dormers jutted. No light +issued from either of them. + +Dave's eyes lit. + +"What's the matter with takin' a whirl at it?" his partner continued. +"You're tophand with a rope." + +"Suits me fine." + +The young puncher arranged the coils carefully and whirled the loop +around his head to get the feel of the throw. It would not do to miss the +first cast and let the rope fall dragging down the roof. Some one might +hear and come out to investigate. + +The rope snaked forward and up, settled gracefully over the chimney, and +tightened round it close to the shingles. + +"Good enough. Now me for the climb," murmured Hart. + +"Don't pull yore picket-pin, Bob. Me first." + +"All right. We ain't no time to debate. Shag up, old scout." + +Dave slipped off his high-heeled boots and went up hand over hand, using +his feet against the rough adobe walls to help in the ascent. When he +came to the eaves he threw a leg up and clambered to the roof. In another +moment he was huddled against the chimney waiting for his companion. + +As soon as Hart had joined him he pulled up the rope and wound it round +the chimney. + +"You stay here while I see what's doin'," Dave proposed. + +"I never did see such a fellow for hoggin' all the fun," objected Bob. +"Ain't you goin' to leave me trail along?" + +"Got to play a lone hand till we find out where we're at, Bob. Doubles +the chances of being bumped into if we both go." + +"Then you roost on the roof and lemme look the range over for the old +man." + +"Didn't Miss Joyce tell me to find her paw? What's eatin' you, pard?" + +"You pore plugged nickel!" derided Hart. "Think she picked you special +for this job, do you?" + +"Be reasonable, Bob," pleaded Dave. + +His friend gave way. "Cut yore stick, then. Holler for me when I'm +wanted." + +Dave moved down the roof to the nearest dormer. The house, he judged, had +originally belonged to a well-to-do Mexican family and had later been +rebuilt upon American ideas. The thick adobe walls had come down from the +earlier owners, but the roof had been put on as a substitute for the flat +one of its first incarnation. + +The range-rider was wearing plain shiny leather chaps with a gun in an +open holster tied at the bottom to facilitate quick action. He drew out +the revolver, tested it noiselessly, and restored it carefully to its +place. If he needed the six-shooter at all, he would need it badly and +suddenly. + +Gingerly he tested the window of the dormer, working at it from the side +so that his body would not be visible to anybody who happened to be +watching from within. Apparently it was latched. He crept across the roof +to the other dormer. + +It was a casement window, and at the touch of the hand it gave way. +The heart of the cowpuncher beat fast with excitement. In the shadowy +darkness of that room death might be lurking, its hand already +outstretched toward him. He peered in, accustoming his eyes to the +blackness. A prickling of the skin ran over him. The tiny cold feet of +mice pattered up and down his spine. For he knew that, though he could +not yet make out the objects inside the room, his face must be like a +framed portrait to anybody there. + +He made out presently that it was a bedroom with sloping ceiling. A bunk +with blankets thrown back just as the sleeper had left them filled one +side of the chamber. There were two chairs, a washstand, a six-inch by +ten looking-glass, and a chromo or two on the wall. A sawed-off shotgun +was standing in a corner. Here and there were scattered soiled clothing +and stained boots. The door was ajar, but nobody was in the room. + +Dave eased himself over the sill and waited for a moment while he +listened, the revolver in his hand. It seemed to him that he could hear +a faint murmur of voices, but he was not sure. He moved across the bare +plank floor, slid through the door, and again stopped to take stock of +his surroundings. + +He was at the head of a stairway which ran down to the first floor and +lost itself in the darkness of the hall. Leaning over the banister, he +listened intently for any sign of life below. He was sure now that he +heard the sound of low voices behind a closed door. + +The cowpuncher hesitated. Should he stop to explore the upper story? Or +should he go down at once and try to find out what those voices might +tell him? It might be that time was of the essence of his contract to +discover what had become of Emerson Crawford. He decided to look for his +information on the first floor. + +Never before had Dave noticed that stairs creaked and groaned so loudly +beneath the pressure of a soft footstep. They seemed to shout his +approach, though he took every step with elaborate precautions. A door +slammed somewhere, and his heart jumped at the sound of it. He did not +hide the truth from himself. If Steelman or his men found him here +looking for Crawford he would never leave the house alive. His foot left +the last tread and found the uncarpeted floor. He crept, hand +outstretched, toward the door behind which he heard men talking. As he +moved forward his stomach muscles tightened. At any moment some one might +come out of the room and walk into him. + +He put his eye to the keyhole, and through it saw a narrow segment of the +room. Ad Miller was sitting a-straddle a chair, his elbows on the back. +Another man, one not visible to the cowpuncher, was announcing a decision +and giving an order. + +"Hook up the horses, Shorty. He's got his neck bowed and he won't sign. +All right. I'll get the durn fool up in the hills and show him whether he +will or won't." + +"I could 'a' told you he had sand in his craw." Shorty was speaking. He +too was beyond the range of Dave's vision. "Em Crawford won't sign unless +he's a mind to." + +"Take my advice, Brad. Collect the kid, an' you'll sure have Em hogtied. +He sets the world an' all by her. Y'betcha he'll talk turkey then," +predicted Miller. + +"Are we fightin' kids?" the squat puncher wanted to know. + +"Did I ask your advice, Shorty?" inquired Steelman acidly. + +The range-rider grumbled an indistinct answer. Dave did not make out the +words, and his interest in the conversation abruptly ceased. + +For from upstairs there came the sudden sounds of trampling feet, of +bodies thrashing to and fro in conflict. A revolver shot barked its +sinister menace. + +Dave rose to go. At the same time the door in front of him was jerked +open. He pushed his forty-five into Miller's fat ribs. + +"What's yore hurry? Stick up yore hands--stick 'em up!" + +The boy was backing along the passage as he spoke. He reached the newel +post in that second while Miller was being flung aside by an eruption of +men from the room. Like a frightened rabbit Dave leaped for the stairs, +taking them three at a time. Halfway up he collided with a man flying +down. They came together with the heavy impact of fast-moving bodies. The +two collapsed and rolled down, one over the other. + +Sanders rose like a rubber ball. The other man lay still. He had been put +out cold. Dave's head had struck him in the solar plexus and knocked the +breath out of him. The young cowpuncher found himself the active center +of a cyclone. His own revolver was gone. He grappled with a man, seizing +him by the wrist to prevent the use of a long-barreled Colt's. The +trigger fell, a bullet flying through the ceiling. + +Other men pressed about him, trying to reach him with their fists and to +strike him with their weapons. Their high heels crushed cruelly the flesh +of his stockinged feet. The darkness befriended Dave. In the massed mêlée +they dared not shoot for fear of hitting the wrong mark. Nor could they +always be sure which shifting figure was the enemy. + +Dave clung close to the man he had seized, using him as a shield against +the others. The pack swayed down the hall into the wedge of light thrown +by the lamp in the room. + +Across the head of the man next him Shorty reached and raised his arm. +Dave saw the blue barrel of the revolver sweeping down, but could not +free a hand to protect himself. A jagged pain shot through his head. +The power went out of his legs. He sagged at the hinges of his knees. +He stumbled and went down. Heavy boots kicked at him where he lay. It +seemed to him that bolts of lightning were zigzagging through him. + +The pain ceased and he floated away into a sea of space. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BOB HART TAKES A HAND + + +Bob Hart waited till his friend had disappeared into the house before he +moved. + +"Thought he'd run it over me, so I'd roost here on the roof, did he? +Well, I'm after the ol' horn-toad full jump," the puncher murmured, +a gay grin on his good-looking face. + +He, too, examined his gun before he followed Dave through the dormer +window and passed into the frowsy bedchamber. None of the details of it +escaped his cool, keen gaze, least of all the sawed-off shotgun in the +corner. + +"That scatter gun might come handy. Reckon I'll move it so's I'll know +just where it's at when I need it," he said to himself, and carried the +gun to the bed, where he covered it with a quilt. + +At the top of the stairs Bob also hesitated before passing down. Why not +be sure of his line of communications with the roof before going too far? +He did not want to be in such a hurry that his retreat would be cut off. + +With as little noise as possible Bob explored the upper story. The first +room in which he found himself was empty of all furniture except a pair +of broken-backed chairs. One casual glance was enough here. + +He was about to try a second door when some one spoke. He recognized the +voice. It belonged to the man who wrote his pay checks, and it came from +an adjoining room. + +"Always knew you was crooked as a dog's hind laigs Doble. Never liked you +a lick in the road. I'll say this. Some day I'll certainly hang yore hide +up to dry for yore treachery." + +"No use to get on the peck, Em. It don't do you no good to make me sore. +Maybe you'll need a friend before you're shet of Brad." + +"It relieves my mind some to tell you what a yellow coyote you are," +explained the cattleman. "You got about as much sand as a brush rabbit +and I'd trust you as far as I would a rattler, you damned sidewinder." + +Bob tried the door. The knob turned in his hand and the door slowly +opened inward. + +The rattle of the latch brought George Doble's sly, shifty eye round. +He was expecting to see one of his friends from below. A stare of blank +astonishment gave way to a leaping flicker of fear. The crook jumped to +his feet, tugging at his gun. Before he could fire, the range-rider had +closed with him. + +The plunging attack drove Doble back against the table, a flimsy, +round-topped affair which gave way beneath this assault upon it. The two +men went down in the wreck. Doble squirmed away like a cat, but before he +could turn to use his revolver Bob was on him again. The puncher caught +his right arm, in time and in no more than time. The deflected bullet +pinged through a looking-glass on a dresser near the foot of the bed. + +"Go to it, son! Grab the gun and bust his haid wide open!" an excited +voice encouraged Hart. + +But Doble clung to his weapon as a lost cow does to a 'dobe water-hole in +the desert. Bob got a grip on his arm and twisted till he screamed with +pain. He did a head spin and escaped. One hundred and sixty pounds of +steel-muscled cowpuncher landed on his midriff and the six-shooter went +clattering away to a far corner of the room. + +Bob dived for the revolver, Doble for the door. A moment, and Hart had +the gun. But whereas there had been three in the room there were now but +two. + +A voice from the bed spoke in curt command. "Cut me loose." Bob had heard +that voice on more than one round-up. It was that of Emerson Crawford. + +The range-rider's sharp knife cut the ropes that tied the hands and feet +of his employer. He worked in the dark and it took time. + +"Who are you? Howcome you here?" demanded the cattleman. + +"I'm Bob Hart. It's quite a story. Miss Joyce sent me and Dave Sanders," +answered the young man, still busy with the ropes. + +From below came the sound of a shot, the shuffling of many feet. + +"Must be him downstairs." + +"I reckon. They's a muley gun in the hall." + +Crawford stretched his cramped muscles, flexing and reflexing his arms +and legs. "Get it, son. We'll drift down and sit in." + +When Bob returned he found the big cattleman examining Doble's revolver. +He broke the shotgun to make sure it was loaded. + +Then, "We'll travel," he said coolly. + +The battle sounds below had died away. From the landing they looked down +into the hall and saw a bar of light that came through a partly open +door. Voices were lifted in excitement. + +"One of Em Crawford's riders," some one was saying. "A whole passel of +'em must be round the place." + +Came the thud of a boot on something soft. "Put the damn spy outa +business, I say," broke in another angrily. + +Hart's gorge rose. "Tha's Miller," he whispered to his chief. "He's +kickin' Dave now he's down 'cause Dave whaled him good." + +Softly the two men padded down the stair treads and moved along the +passage. + +"Who's that?" demanded Shorty, thrusting his head into the hall. "Stay +right there or I'll shoot." + +"Oh, no, you won't," answered the cattleman evenly. "I'm comin' into that +room to have a settlement. There'll be no shootin'--unless I do it." + +His step did not falter. He moved forward, brushed Shorty aside, and +strode into the midst of his enemies. + +Dave lay on the floor. His hair was clotted with blood and a thin stream +of it dripped from his head. The men grouped round his body had their +eyes focused on the man who had just pushed his way in. All of them were +armed, but not one of them made a move to attack. + +For there is something about a strong man unafraid more potent than a +company of troopers. Such a man was Emerson Crawford now. His life might +be hanging in the balance of his enemies' fears, but he gave no sign +of uncertainty. His steady gray eyes swept the circle, rested on each +worried face, and fastened on Brad Steelman. + +The two had been enemies for years, rivals for control of the range and +for leadership in the community. Before that, as young men, they had been +candidates for the hand of the girl that the better one had won. The +sheepman was shrewd and cunning, but he had no such force of character as +Crawford. At the bottom of his heart, though he seethed with hatred, he +quailed before that level gaze. Did his foe have the house surrounded +with his range-riders? Did he mean to make him pay with his life for the +thing he had done? + +Steelman laughed uneasily. An option lay before him. He could fight or he +could throw up the hand he had dealt himself from a stacked deck. If he +let his enemy walk away scot free, some day he would probably have to pay +Crawford with interest. His choice was a characteristic one. + +"Well, I reckon you've kinda upset my plans, Em. 'Course I was a-coddin' +you. I didn't aim to hurt you none, though I'd 'a' liked to have talked +you outa the water-holes." + +The big cattleman ignored this absolutely. "Have a team hitched right +away. Shorty will 'tend to that. Bob, tie up yore friend's haid with a +handkerchief." + +Without an instant's hesitation Hart thrust his revolver back into its +holster. He was willing to trust Crawford to dominate this group of +lawless foes, every one of whom held some deep grudge against him. One +he had sent to the penitentiary. Another he had actually kicked out of +his employ. A third was in his debt for many injuries received. Almost +any of them would have shot him in the back on a dark night, but none +had the cold nerve to meet him in the open. For even in a land which +bred men there were few to match Emerson Crawford. + +Shorty looked at Steelman. "I'm waitin', Brad," he said. + +The sheepman nodded sullenly. "You done heard your orders, Shorty." + +The ex-convict reached for his steeple hat, thrust his revolver back into +its holster, and went jingling from the room. He looked insolently at +Crawford as he passed. + +"Different here. If it was my say-so I'd go through." + +Hart administered first aid to his friend. "I'm servin' notice, Miller, +that some day I'll bust you wide and handsome for this," he said, looking +straight at the fat gambler. "You have give Dave a raw deal, and you'll +not get away with it." + +"I pack a gun. Come a-shootin' when you're ready," retorted Miller. + +"Tha's liable to be right soon, you damn horsethief. We've rid 'most a +hundred miles to have a li'l' talk with you and yore pardner there." + +"Shoutin' about that race yet, are you? If I wasn't a better loser than +you--" + +"Don't bluff, Miller. You know why we trailed you." + +Doble edged into the talk. He was still short of wind, but to his thick +wits a denial seemed necessary. "We ain't got yore broncs." + +"Who mentioned our broncs?" Hart demanded, swiftly. + +"Called Ad a horsethief, didn't you?" + +"So he is. You, too. You've got our ponies. Not in yore vest pockets, but +hid out in the brush somewheres. I'm servin' notice right now that Dave +and me have come to collect." + +Dave opened his eyes upon a world which danced hazily before him. He had +a splitting headache. + +"Wha's the matter?" he asked. + +"You had a run-in with a bunch of sheep wranglers," Bob told him. +"They're going to be plumb sorry they got gay." + +Presently Shorty returned. "That team's hooked up," he told the world at +large. + +"You'll drive us, Steelman," announced Crawford. + +"Me!" screamed the leader of the other faction. "You got the most nerve +I ever did see." + +"Sure. Drive him home, Brad," advised Shorty with bitter sarcasm. "Black +his boots. Wait on him good. Step lively when yore new boss whistles." He +cackled with splenetic laughter. + +"I dunno as I need to drive you home," Steelman said slowly, feeling his +way to a decision. "You know the way better'n I do." + +The eyes of the two leaders met. + +"You'll drive," the cattleman repeated steadily. + +The weak spot in Steelman's leadership was that he was personally not +game. Crawford had a pungent personality. He was dynamic, strong, master +of himself in any emergency. The sheepman's will melted before his +insistence. He dared not face a showdown. + +"Oh, well, what's it matter? We can talk things over on the way. Me, I'm +not lookin' for trouble none," he said, his small black eyes moving +restlessly to watch the effect of this on his men. + +Bob helped his partner out of the house and into the surrey. The +cattleman took the seat beside Steelman, across his knees the sawed-off +shotgun. He had brought his enemy along for two reasons. One was to +weaken his prestige with his own men. The other was to prevent them +from shooting at the rig as they drove away. + +Steelman drove in silence. His heart was filled with surging hatred. +During that ride was born a determination to have nothing less than the +life of his enemy when the time should be ripe. + +At the door of his house Crawford dismissed him contemptuously. "Get +out." + +The man with the reins spoke softly, venomously, from a dry throat. "One +o' these days you'll crawl on your hands and knees to me for this." + +He whipped up the team and rattled away furiously into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE D BAR LAZY R BOYS MEET AN ANGEL + + +Joyce came flying to her father's arms. The white lace of a nightgown +showed beneath the dressing-robe she had hurriedly donned. A plait of +dark hair hung across her shoulder far below the waist. She threw herself +at Crawford with a moaning little sob. + +"Oh Dad ... Dad ... Dad!" she cried, and her slender arms went round his +neck. + +"'T's all right, sweetheart. Yore old dad's not even powder-burnt. You +been worryin' a heap, I reckon." His voice was full of rough tenderness. + +She began to cry. + +He patted her shoulder and caressed her dark head drawing it close to his +shoulder. "Now--now--now sweetheart, don't you cry. It's all right, li'l' +honey bug." + +"You're not ... hurt," she begged through her tears. + +"Not none. Never was huskier. But I got a boy out here that's beat up +some. Come in, Dave--and you, Bob. They're good boys, Joy. I want you to +meet 'em both." + +The girl had thought her father alone. She flung one startled glance into +the night, clutched the dressing-gown closer round her throat, and fled +her barefoot way into the darkness of the house. To the boys, hanging +back awkwardly at the gate, the slim child-woman was a vision wonderful. +Their starved eyes found in her white loveliness a glimpse of heaven. + +Her father laughed. "Joy ain't dressed for callers. Come in, boys." + +He lit a lamp and drew Dave to a lounge. "Lemme look at yore haid, son. +Bob, you hot-foot it for Doc Green." + +"It's nothin' a-tall to make a fuss about," Dave apologized. "Only a love +tap, compliments of Shorty, and some kicks in the slats, kindness of Mr. +Miller." + +In spite of his debonair manner Dave still had a bad headache and was so +sore around the body that he could scarcely move without groaning. He +kept his teeth clamped on the pain because he had been brought up in +the outdoor code of the West which demands of a man that he grin and +stand the gaff. + +While the doctor was attending to his injuries, Dave caught sight once +or twice of Joyce at the door, clad now in a summer frock of white with a +blue sash. She was busy supplying, in a brisk, competent way, the demands +of the doctor for hot and cold water and clean linen. + +Meanwhile Crawford told his story. "I was right close to the club when +Doble met me. He pulled a story of how his brother Dug had had trouble +with Steelman and got shot up. I swallowed it hook, bait, and sinker. +Soon as I got into the house they swarmed over me like bees. I didn't +even get my six-gun out. Brad wanted me to sign a relinquishment. I told +him where he could head in at." + +"What would have happened if the boys hadn't dropped along?" asked Dr. +Green as he repacked his medicine case. + +The cattleman looked at him, and his eyes were hard and bleak. "Why, Doc, +yore guess is as good as mine." he said. + +"Mine is, you'd have been among the missing, Em. Well, I'm leaving a +sleeping-powder for the patient in case he needs it in an hour or two. +In the morning I'll drop round again," the doctor said. + +He did, and found Dave much improved. The clean outdoors of the +rough-riding West builds blood that is red. A city man might have kept +his bed a week, but Dave was up and ready to say good-bye within +forty-eight hours. He was still a bit under par, a trifle washed-out, +but he wanted to take the road in pursuit of Miller and Doble, who had +again decamped in a hurry with the two horses they had stolen. + +"They had the broncs hid up Frio Cañon way, I reckon," explained Hart. +"But they didn't take no chances. When they left that 'dobe house they +lit a-runnin' and clumb for the high hills on the jump. And they didn't +leave no address neither. We'll be followin' a cold trail. We're not +liable to find them after they hole up in some mountain pocket." + +"Might. Never can tell. Le's take a whirl at it anyhow," urged Dave. + +"Hate to give up yore paint hoss, don't you?" said Bob with his friendly +grin. "Ain't blamin' you none whatever, I'd sleep on those fellows' trail +if Chiquito was mine. What say we outfit in the mornin' and pull our +freights? Maybeso we'll meet up with the thieves at that. Yo no se (I +don't know)." + +When Joyce was in the room where Dave lay on the lounge, the young man +never looked at her, but he saw nobody else. Brought up in a saddle on +the range, he had never before met a girl like her. It was not only that +she was beautiful and fragrant as apple-blossoms, a mystery of maidenhood +whose presence awed his simple soul. It was not only that she seemed so +delicately precious, a princess of the blood royal set apart by reason of +her buoyant grace, the soft rustle of her skirts, the fine texture of the +satiny skin. What took him by the throat was her goodness. She was +enshrined in his heart as a young saint. He would have thought it +sacrilege to think of her as a wide-awake young woman subject to all the +vanities of her sex. And he could have cited evidence. The sweetness of +her affection for rough Em Crawford, the dear, maternal tenderness with +which she ruled her three-year-old brother Keith, motherless since the +week of his birth, the kindness of the luminous brown eyes to the uncouth +stranger thrown upon her hospitality: Dave treasured them all as signs of +angelic grace, and they played upon his heartstrings disturbingly. + +Joyce brought Keith in to say good-bye to Dave and his friend before +they left. The little fellow ran across the room to his new pal, who +had busied himself weaving horsehair playthings for the youngster. + +"You turn back and make me a bwidle, Dave," he cried. + +"I'll sure come or else send you one," the cowpuncher promised, rising to +meet Joyce. + +She carried her slender figure across the room with perfect ease and +rhythm, head beautifully poised, young seventeen as self-possessed as +thirty. As much could not be said for her guests. They were all legs and +gangling arms, red ears and dusty boots. + +"Yes, we all want you to come back," she said with a charming smile. "I +think you saved Father's life. We can't tell you how much we owe you. Can +we, Keith?" + +"Nope. When will you send the bwidle?" he demanded. + +"Soon," the restored patient said to the boy, and to her: "That wasn't +nothin' a-tall. From where I come from we always been use to standin' by +our boss." + +He shifted awkwardly to the other foot, flushing to the hair while he +buried her soft little hand in his big freckled one. The girl showed no +shyness. Seventeen is sometimes so much older than twenty. + +"Tha's what us D Bar Lazy R boys are ridin' with yore paw's outfit for, +Miss--to be handy when he needs us," Bob added in his turn. "We're sure +tickled we got a chanct to go to Brad Steelman's party. I'm ce'tainly +glad to 'a' met you, Miss Joyce." He ducked his head and scraped back a +foot in what was meant to be a bow. + +Emerson Crawford sauntered in, big and bluff and easy-going. "Hittin' the +trail, boys? Good enough. Hope you find the thieves. If you do, play yore +cards close. They're treacherous devils. Don't take no chances with 'em. +I left an order at the store for you to draw on me for another pair of +boots in place of those you lost in the brush, Dave. Get a good pair, +son. They're on me. Well, so long. Luck, boys. I'll look for you-all back +with the D Bar Lazy R when you've finished this job." + +The punchers rode away without looking back, but many times in the days +that followed their hearts turned to that roof which had given the word +home a new meaning to them both. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GUNSIGHT PASS + + +The pursuit took the riders across a wide, undulating plain above which +danced the dry heat of the desert. Lizards sunned themselves on flat +rocks. A rattlesnake slid toward the cover of a prickly pear. The +bleached bones of a cow shone white beside the trail. + +The throats of the cowpunchers filled with alkali dust and their eyes +grew red and sore from it. Magnificent mirages unfolded themselves: lakes +cool and limpid, stretching to the horizon, with inviting forests in the +distance; an oasis of lush green fields that covered miles; mesquite +distorted to the size of giant trees and cattle transformed into +dinosaurs. The great gray desert took on freakish shapes of erosion. +Always, hour after hour beneath a copper sky, they rode in palpitating +heat through sand drifts, among the salt bushes and the creosote, into +cowbacked hills beyond which the stark mountains rose. + +Out of the fiery furnace of the plain they came in late afternoon to +the uplands, plunging into a land of deep gorges and great chasms. Here +manzanita grew and liveoaks flourished. They sent a whitetail buck +crashing through the brush into a cañon. + +When night fell they built a fire of niggerheads and after they had eaten +found its glow grateful. For they were well up in the hills now and the +night air was sharp. + +In the sandy desert they had followed easily the trail of the thieves, +but as they had got into the hills the tracks had become fainter and +fewer. The young men discussed this while they lay in their blankets in +a water-gutted gulch not too near the fire they had built. + +"Like huntin' for a needle in a haystack," said Bob. "Their trail's done +petered out. They might be in any one of a hundred pockets right close, +or they may have bore 'way off to the right. All they got to do is hole +up and not build any fires." + +"Fat chance we got," admitted Dave. "Unless they build a fire like we +done. Say, I'd a heap rather be sleepin' here than by that niggerhead +blaze to-night. They might creep up and try to gun us." + +Before they had been in the saddle an hour next day the trail of the +thieves was lost. The pursuers spent till sunset trying to pick it up +again. The third day was wasted in aimless drifting among the defiles +of the mountains. + +"No use, Bob," said his friend while they were cooking supper. "They've +made their getaway. Might as well drift back to Malapi, don't you +reckon?" + +"Looks like. We're only wastin' our time here." + +Long before day broke they started. + +The cañons below were filled with mist as they rode down out of the +mountains toward the crystal dawn that already flooded the plain. The +court-house clock at Malapi said the time was midnight when the +dust-covered men and horses drew into the town. + +The tired men slept till noon. At the Delmonico Restaurant they found +Buck Byington and Steve Russell. The trail herd had been driven in an +hour before. + +"How's old Alkali?" asked Dave of his friend Buck, thumping him on the +back. + +"Jes' tolable," answered the old-timer equably, making great play with +knife and fork. "A man or a hawss don't either one amount to much after +they onct been stove up. Since that bronc piled me at Willow Creek I +been mighty stiff, you might say." + +"Dug's payin' off to-day, boys," Russell told them. "You'll find him +round to the Boston Emporium." + +The foreman settled first with Hart, after which he, turned to the page +in his pocket notebook that held the account of Sanders. + +"You've drew one month's pay. That leaves you three months, less the week +you've fooled away after the pinto." + +"C'rect," admitted Dave. + +"I'll dock you seven and a half for that. Three times thirty's ninety. +Take seven and a half from that leaves eighty-two fifty." + +"Hold on!" objected Dave. "My pay's thirty-five a month." + +"First I knew of it," said the foreman, eyes bleak and harsh. "Thirty's +what you're gettin'." + +"I came in as top hand at thirty-five." + +"You did not," denied Doble flatly. + +The young man flushed. "You can't run that on me, Dug. I'll not stand for +it." + +"Eighty-two fifty is what you get," answered the other dogmatically. "You +can take it or go to hell." + +He began to sort out a number of small checks with which to pay the +puncher. At that time the currency of the country consisted largely of +cattlemen's checks which passed from hand to hand till they were grimy +with dirt. Often these were not cashed for months later. + +"We'll see what the old man says about that," retorted Dave hotly. It was +in his mind to say that he did not intend to be robbed by both the Doble +brothers, but he wisely repressed the impulse. Dug would as soon fight as +eat, and the young rider knew he would not have a chance in the world +against him. + +"All right," sneered the foreman. "Run with yore tale of grief to +Crawford. Tell him I been pickin' on you. I hear you've got to be quite +a pet of his." + +This brought Dave up with a short turn. He could not take advantage of +the service he had done the owner of the D Bar Lazy R to ask him to +interfere in his behalf with the foreman. Doble might be cynically +defrauding him of part of what was due him in wages. Dave would have to +fight that out with him for himself. The worst of it was that he had no +redress. Unless he appealed to the cattleman he would have to accept +what the foreman offered. + +Moreover, his pride was touched. He was young enough to be sensitive on +the subject of his ability to look out for himself. + +"I'm no pet of anybody," he flung out. "Gimme that money. It ain't a +square deal, but I reckon I can stand it." + +"I reckon you'll have to. It's neck meat or nothin'," grunted the +foreman. + +Doble counted him out eighty dollars in cattlemen's checks and paid him +two-fifty in cash. While Dave signed a receipt the hook-nosed foreman, +broad shoulders thrown back and thumbs hitched in the arm-holes of his +vest, sat at ease in a tilted chair and grinned maliciously at his +victim. He was "puttin' somethin' over on him," and he wanted Dave to +know it. Dug had no affection for his half-brother, but he resented +the fact that Sanders publicly and openly despised him as a crook. He +took it as a personal reflection on himself. + +Still smouldering with anger at this high-handed proceeding, Dave went +down to the Longhorn Corral and saddled his horse. He had promised +Byington to help water the herd. + +This done, he rode back to town, hitched the horse back of a barber shop, +and went in for a shave. Presently he was stretched in a chair, his boots +thrown across the foot rest in front of him. + +The barber lathered his face and murmured gossip in his ear. "George +Doble and Miller claim they're goin' to Denver to run some skin game at +a street fair. They're sure slick guys." + +Dave offered no comment. + +"You notice they didn't steal any of Em Crawford's stock. No, sirree! +They knew better. Hopped away with broncs belongin' to you boys because +they knew it'd be safe." + +"Picked easy marks, did they?" asked the puncher sardonically. + +The man with the razor tilted the chin of his customer and began to +scrape. "Well, o'course you're only boys. They took advantage of that +and done you a meanness." + +Dug Doble came into the shop, very grim about the mouth. He stopped to +look down sarcastically at the new boots Sanders was wearing. + +"I see you've bought you a new pair of boots," he said in a heavy, +domineering voice. + +Dave waited without answering, his eyes meeting steadily those of the +foreman. + +The big fellow laid a paper on the breast of the cowpuncher. "Here's a +bill for a pair of boots you charged to the old man's account--eighteen +dollars. I got it just now at the store. You'll dig up." + +It was the custom for riders who came to town to have the supplies they +needed charged to their employers against wages due them. Doble took it +for granted that Sanders had done this, which was contrary to the orders +he had given his outfit. He did not know the young man had lost his boots +while rescuing Crawford and had been authorized by him to get another +pair in place of them. + +Nor did Dave intend to tell him. Here was a chance to even the score +against the foreman. Already he had a plan simmering in his mind that +would take him out of this part of the country for a time. He could no +longer work for Doble without friction, and he had business of his own to +attend to. The way to solve the immediate difficulty flashed through his +brain instantly, every detail clear. + +It was scarcely a moment before he drawled an answer. "I'll 'tend to it +soon as I'm out of the chair." + +"I gave orders for none of you fellows to charge goods to the old man," +said Doble harshly. + +"Did you?" Dave's voice was light and careless. + +"You can go hunt a job somewheres else. You're through with me." + +"I'll hate to part with you." + +"Don't get heavy, young fellow." + +"No," answered Dave with mock meekness. + +Doble sat down in a chair to wait. He had no intention of leaving until +Dave had settled. + +After the barber had finished with him the puncher stepped across to a +looking-glass and adjusted carefully the silk handkerchief worn knotted +loosely round the throat. + +"Get a move on you!" urged the foreman. His patience, of which he never +had a large supply to draw from, was nearly exhausted. "I'm not goin' to +spend all day on this." + +"I'm ready." + +Dave followed Doble out of the shop. Apparently he did not hear the +gentle reminder of the barber, who was forced to come to the door and +repeat his question. + +"Want that shave charged?" + +"Oh! Clean forgot." Sanders turned back, feeling in his pocket for +change. + +He pushed past the barber into the shop, slapped a quarter down on the +cigar-case, and ran out through the back door. A moment later he pulled +the slip-knot of his bridle from the hitching-bar, swung to the saddle +and spurred his horse to a gallop. In a cloud of dust he swept round the +building to the road and waved a hand derisively toward Doble. + +"See you later!" he shouted. + +The foreman wasted no breath in futile rage. He strode to the nearest +hitching-post and flung himself astride leather. The horse's hoofs +pounded down the road in pursuit. + +Sanders was riding the same bronco he had used to follow the +horsethieves. It had been under a saddle most of the time for a week and +was far from fresh. Before he had gone a mile he knew that the foreman +would catch up with him. + +He was riding for Gunsight Pass. It was necessary to get there before +Doble reached him. Otherwise he would have to surrender or fight, and +neither of these fitted in with his plans. + +Once he had heard Emerson Crawford give a piece of advice to a hotheaded +and unwise puncher. "Never call for a gun-play on a bluff, son. There's +no easier way to commit suicide than to pull a six-shooter you ain't +willin' to use." Dug Doble was what Byington called "bull-haided." He had +forced a situation which could not be met without a showdown. This meant +that the young range-rider would either have to take a thrashing or draw +his forty-five and use it. Neither of these alternatives seemed worth +while in view of the small stakes at issue. Because he was not ready to +kill or be killed, Dave was flying for the hills. + +The fugitive had to use his quirt to get there in time. The steepness of +the road made heavy going. As he neared the summit the grade grew worse. +The bronco labored heavily in its stride as its feet reached for the +road ahead. + +But here Dave had the advantage. Doble was a much heavier man than he, +and his mount took the shoulder of the ridge slower. By the time the +foreman showed in silhouette against the skyline at the entrance to the +pass the younger man had disappeared. + +The D Bar Lazy R foreman found out at once what had become of him. A +crisp voice gave clear directions. + +"That'll be far enough. Stop right where you're at or you'll notice +trouble pop. And don't reach for yore gun unless you want to hear the +band begin to play a funeral piece." + +The words came, it seemed to Doble, out of the air. He looked up. Two +great boulders lay edge to edge beside the path. Through a narrow rift +the blue nose of a forty-five protruded. Back of it glittered a pair +of steady, steely eyes. + +The foreman did not at all like the look of things. Sanders was a good +shot. From where he lay, almost entirely protected, all he had to do was +to pick his opponent off at his leisure. If his hand were forced he would +do it. And the law would let him go scot free, since Doble was a fighting +man and had been seen to start in pursuit of the boy. + +"Come outa there and shell out that eighteen dollars," demanded Doble. + +"Nothin' doin', Dug." + +"Don't run on the rope with me, young fellow. You'll sure be huntin' +trouble." + +"What's the use o' beefin'? I've got the deadwood on you. Better hit the +dust back to town and explain to the boys how yore bronc went lame," +advised Dave. + +"Come down and I'll wallop the tar outa you." + +"Much obliged. I'm right comfortable here." + +"I've a mind to come up and dig you out." + +"Please yoreself, Dug. We'll find out then which one of us goes to hell." + +The foreman cursed, fluently, expertly, passionately. Not in a long time +had he had the turn called on him so adroitly. He promised Dave sudden +death in various forms whenever he could lay hands upon him. + +"You're sure doin' yoreself proud, Dug," the young man told him evenly. +"I'll write the boys how you spilled language so thorough." + +"If I could only lay my hands on you!" the raw-boned cattleman stormed. + +"I'll bet you'd massacree me proper," admitted Dave quite cheerfully. + +Suddenly Doble gave up. He wheeled his horse and began to descend the +steep slope. Steadily he jogged on to town, not once turning to look +back. His soul was filled with chagrin and fury at the defeat this +stripling had given him. He was ready to pick a quarrel with the first +man who asked him a question about what had taken place at the pass. + +Nobody asked a question. Men looked at him, read the menace of his +sullen, angry face, and side-stepped his rage. They did not need to be +told that his ride had been a failure. His manner advertised it. Whatever +had taken place had not redounded to the glory of Dug Doble. + +Later in the day the foreman met the owner of the D Bar Lazy R brand +to make a detailed statement of the cost of the drive. He took peculiar +pleasure in mentioning one item. + +"That young scalawag Sanders beat you outa eighteen dollars," he said +with a sneer of triumph. + +Doble had heard the story of what Dave and Bob had done for Crawford and +of how the wounded boy had been taken to the cattleman's home and nursed +there. It pleased him now to score off what he chose to think was the +soft-headedness of his chief. + +The cattleman showed interest. "That so, Dug? Sorry. I took a fancy to +that boy. What did he do?" + +"You know how vaqueros are always comin' in and chargin' goods against +the boss. I give out the word they was to quit it. Sanders he gets a pair +of eighteen-dollar boots, then jumps the town before I find out about +it." + +Crawford started to speak, but Doble finished his story. + +"I took out after him, but my bronc went lame from a stone in its hoof. +You'll never see that eighteen plunks, Em. It don't do to pet cowhands." + +"Too bad you took all that trouble, Dug," the old cattleman began mildly. +"The fact is--" + +"Trouble. Say, I'd ride to Tombstone to get a crack at that young smart +Aleck. I told him what I'd do to him if I ever got my fists on him." + +"So you _did_ catch up with him." + +Dug drew back sulkily within himself. He did not intend to tell all he +knew about the Gunsight Pass episode. "I didn't say _when_ I told him." + +"Tha's so. You didn't. Well, I'm right sorry you took so blamed much +trouble to find him. Funny, though, he didn't tell you I gave him the +boots." + +"You--what?" The foreman snapped the question out with angry incredulity. + +The ranchman took the cigar from his mouth and leaned back easily. He was +smiling now frankly. + +"Why, yes. I told him to buy the boots and have 'em charged to my +account. And the blamed little rooster never told you, eh?" + +Doble choked for words with which to express himself. He glared at his +employer as though Crawford had actually insulted him. + +In an easy, conversational tone the cattleman continued, but now there +was a touch of frost in his eyes. + +"It was thisaway, Dug. When he and Bob knocked Steelman's plans hell west +and crooked after that yellow skunk George Doble betrayed me to Brad, the +boy lost his boots in the brush. 'Course I said to get another pair at +the store and charge 'em to me. I reckon he was havin' some fun joshin' +you." + +The foreman was furious. He sputtered with the rage that boiled inside +him. But some instinct warned him that unless he wanted to break with +Crawford completely he must restrain his impulse to rip loose. + +"All right," he mumbled. "If you told him to get 'em, 'nough said." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE CATTLE TRAIN + + +Dave stood on the fence of one of the shipping pens at the Albuquerque +stockyards and used a prod-pole to guide the bawling cattle below. The +Fifty-Four Quarter Circle was loading a train of beef steers and cows for +Denver. Just how he was going to manage it Dave did not know, but he +intended to be aboard that freight when it pulled out for the mile-high +town in Colorado. + +He had reached Albuquerque by a strange and devious route of zigzags and +back-trackings. His weary bronco he had long since sold for ten dollars +at a cow town where he had sacked his saddle to be held at a livery +stable until sent for. By blind baggage he had ridden a night and part of +a day. For a hundred miles he had actually paid his fare. The next leg of +the journey had been more exciting. He had elected to travel by freight. +For many hours he and a husky brakeman had held different opinions about +this. Dave had been chased from the rods into an empty and out of the box +car to the roof. He had been ditched half a dozen times during the night, +but each time he had managed to hook on before the train had gathered +headway. The brakeman enlisted the rest of the crew in the hunt, with the +result that the range-rider found himself stranded on the desert ten +miles from a station. He walked the ties in his high-heeled boots, and +before he reached the yards his feet were sending messages of pain at +every step. Reluctantly he bought a ticket to Albuquerque. Here he had +picked up a temporary job ten minutes after his arrival. + +A raw-boned inspector kept tally at the chute while the cattle passed up +into the car. + +"Fifteen, sixteen--prod 'em up, you Arizona--seventeen, eighteen--jab +that whiteface along--nineteen--hustle 'em in." + +The air was heavy with the dust raised by the milling cattle. Calves +stretched their necks and blatted for their mothers, which kept up in +turn a steady bawling for their strayed offspring. They were conscious +that something unusual was in progress, something that threatened their +security and comfort, and they resented it in the only way they knew. + +Car after car was jammed full of the frightened creatures as the men +moved from pen to pen, threw open and shut the big gates, and hustled the +stock up the chutes. Dave had begun work at six in the morning. A glance +at his watch showed him that it was now ten o'clock. + +A middle-aged man in wrinkled corduroys and a pinched-in white hat drove +up to the fence. "How're they coming, Sam?" he asked of the foreman in +charge. + +"We'd ought to be movin' by noon, Mr. West." + +"Fine. I've decided to send Garrison in charge. He can pick one of the +boys to take along. We can't right well spare any of 'em now. If I knew +where to find a good man--" + +The lean Arizona-born youth slid from the fence on his prod-pole and +stepped forward till he stood beside the buckboard of the cattleman. + +"I'm the man you're lookin' for, Mr. West." + +The owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter Circle brand looked him over with +keen eyes around which nets of little wrinkles spread. + +"What man?" he asked. + +"The one to help Mr. Garrison take the cattle to Denver." + +"Recommend yoreself, can you?" asked West with a hint of humor. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Who are you?" + +"Dave Sanders--from Arizona, first off." + +"Been punchin' long?" + +"Since I was a kid. Worked for the D Bar Lazy R last." + +"Ever go on a cattle train?" + +"Twice--to Kansas City." + +"Hmp!" That grunt told Dave just what the difficulty was. It said, "I +don't know you. Why should I trust you to help take a trainload of my +cattle through?" + +"You can wire to Mr. Crawford at Malapi and ask him about me," the young +fellow suggested. + +"How long you ride for him?" + +"Three years comin' grass." + +"How do I knew you you're the man you say you are?" + +"One of yore boys knows me--Bud Holway." + +West grunted again. He knew Emerson Crawford well. He was a level-headed +cowman and his word was as good as his bond. If Em said this young man +was trustworthy, the shipper was willing to take a chance on him. The +honest eye, the open face, the straightforward manner of the youth +recommended his ability and integrity. The shipper was badly in need of +a man. He made up his mind to wire. + +"Let you know later," he said, and for the moment dropped Dave out of the +conversation. + +But before noon he sent for him. + +"I've heard from Crawford," he said, and mentioned terms. + +"Whatever's fair," agreed Dave. + +An hour later he was in the caboose of a cattle train rolling eastward. +He was second in command of a shipment consigned to the Denver Terminal +Stockyards Company. Most of them were shipped by the West Cattle Company. +An odd car was a jackpot bunch of pickups composed of various brands. All +the cars were packed to the door, as was the custom of those days. + +After the train had settled down to the chant of the rails Garrison +sent Dave on a tour of the cars. The young man reported all well and +returned to the caboose. The train crew was playing poker for small +stakes. Garrison had joined them. For a time Dave watched, then read +a four-day-old newspaper through to the last advertisement. The hum of +the wheels made him drowsy. He stretched out comfortably on the seat +with his coat for a pillow. + +When he awoke it was beginning to get dark. Garrison had left the +caboose, evidently to have a look at the stock. Dave ate some crackers +and cheese, climbed to the roof, and with a lantern hanging on his arm +moved forward. + +Already a few of the calves, yielding to the pressure in the heavily +laden cars, had tried to escape it by lying down. With his prod Dave +drove back the nearest animal. Then he used the nail in the pole to twist +the tails of the calves and force them to their feet. In those days of +crowded cars almost the most important thing in transit was to keep the +cattle on their legs to prevent any from being trampled and smothered to +death. + +As the night grew older both men were busier. With their lanterns and +prod-poles they went from car to car relieving the pressure wherever it +was greatest. The weaker animals began to give way, worn out by the +heavy lurching and the jam of heavy bodies against them. They had to be +defended against their own weakness. + +Dave was crossing from the top of one car to another when he heard his +name called. He knew the voice belonged to Garrison and he listened to +make sure from which car it came. Presently he heard it a second time +and localized the sound as just below him. He entered the car by the +end door near the roof. + +"Hello! Call me?" he asked. + +"Yep. I done fell and bust my laig. Can you get me outa here?" + +"Bad, is it?" + +"Broken." + +"I'll get some of the train hands. Will you be all right till I get +back?" the young man asked. + +"I reckon. Hop along lively. I'm right in the jam here." + +The conductor stopped the train. With the help of the crew Dave got +Garrison back to the caboose. There was no doubt that the leg was broken. +It was decided to put the injured man off at the next station, send him +back by the up train, and wire West that Dave would see the cattle got +through all right. This was done. + +Dave got no more sleep that night. He had never been busier in his life. +Before morning broke half the calves were unable to keep their feet. The +only thing to do was to reload. + +He went to the conductor and asked for a siding. The man running the +train was annoyed, but he did not say so. He played for time. + +"All right. We'll come to one after a while and I'll put you on it," he +promised. + +Half an hour later the train rumbled merrily past a siding without +stopping. Dave walked back along the roof to the caboose. + +"We've just passed a siding," he told the trainman. + +"Couldn't stop there. A freight behind us has orders to take that to let +the Limited pass," he said glibly. + +Dave suspected he was lying, but he could not prove it. He asked where +the next siding was. + +"A little ways down," said a brakeman. + +The puncher saw his left eyelid droop in a wink to the conductor. He knew +now that they were "stalling" for time. The end of their run lay only +thirty miles away. They had no intention of losing two or three hours' +time while the cattle were reloaded. After the train reached the division +point another conductor and crew would have to wrestle with the problem. + +Young Sanders felt keenly his inexperience. They were taking advantage of +him because he was a boy. He did not know what to do. He had a right to +insist on a siding, but it was not his business to decide which one. + +The train rolled past another siding and into the yards of the division +town. At once Dave hurried to the station. The conductor about to take +charge of the train was talking with the one just leaving. The +range-rider saw them look at him and laugh as he approached. His blood +began to warm. + +"I want you to run this train onto a siding," he said at once. + +"You the train dispatcher?" asked the new man satirically. + +"You know who I am. I'll say right now that the cattle on this train are +suffering. Some won't last another hour. I'm goin' to reload." + +"Are you? I guess not. This train's going out soon as we've changed +engines, and that'll be in about seven minutes." + +"I'll not go with it." + +"Suit yourself," said the officer jauntily, and turned away to talk with +the other man. + +Dave walked to the dispatcher's office. The cowpuncher stated his case. + +"Fix that up with the train conductor," said the dispatcher. "He can have +a siding whenever he wants it." + +"But he won't gimme one." + +"Not my business." + +"Whose business is it?" + +The dispatcher got busy over his charts. Dave became aware that he was +going to get no satisfaction here. + +He tramped back to the platform. + +"All aboard," sang out the conductor. + +Dave, not knowing what else to do, swung on to the caboose as it passed. +He sat down on the steps and put his brains at work. There must be a way +out, if he could only find what it was. The next station was fifteen +miles down the line. Before the train stopped there Dave knew exactly +what he meant to do. He wrote out two messages. One was to the division +superintendent. The other was to Henry B. West. + +He had swung from the steps of the caboose and was in the station before +the conductor. + +"I want to send two telegrams," he told the agent. "Here they are all +ready. Rush 'em through. I want an answer here to the one to the +superintendent." + +The wire to the railroad official read: + +Conductor freight number 17 refuses me siding to reload stock in my +charge. Cattle down and dying. Serve notice herewith I put responsibility +for all loss on railroad. Will leave cars in charge of train crew. + +DAVID SANDERS + +_Representing West Cattle Company_ + +The other message was just as direct. + +Conductor refuses me siding to reload. Cattle suffering and dying. Have +wired division superintendent. Will refuse responsibility and leave train +unless siding given me. + +DAVE SANDERS + +The conductor caught the eye of the agent. + +"I'll send the wires when I get time," said the latter to the cowboy. + +"You'll send 'em now--right now," announced Dave. + +"Say, are you the president of the road?" bristled the agent. + +"You'll lose yore job within forty-eight hours if you don't send them +telegrams _now_. I'll see to that personal." Dave leaned forward and +looked at him steadily. + +The conductor spoke to the agent, nodding his head insolently toward +Dave. "Young-man-heap-swelled-head," he introduced him. + +But the agent had had a scare. It was his job at stake, not the +conductor's. He sat down sulkily and sent the messages. + +The conductor read his orders and walked to the door. "Number 17 leaving. +All aboard," he called back insolently. + +"I'm stayin' here till I hear from the superintendent," answered Dave +flatly. "You leave an' you've got them cattle to look out for. They'll be +in yore care." + +The conductor swaggered out and gave the signal to go. The train drew out +from the station and disappeared around a curve in the track. Five +minutes later it backed in again. The conductor was furious. + +"Get aboard here, you hayseed, if you're goin' to ride with me!" he +yelled. + +Dave was sitting on the platform whittling a stick. His back was +comfortably resting against a truck. Apparently he had not heard. + +The conductor strode up to him and looked down at the lank boy. "Say, are +you comin' or ain't you?" he shouted, as though he had been fifty yards +away instead of four feet. + +"Talkin' to me?" Dave looked up with amiable surprise. "Why, no, not if +you're in a hurry. I'm waitin' to hear from the superintendent." + +"If you think any boob can come along and hold my train up till I lose +my right of way you've got another guess comin'. I ain't goin' to be +sidetracked by every train on the division." + +"That's the company's business, not mine. I'm interested only in my +cattle." + +The conductor had a reputation as a bully. He had intended to override +this young fellow by weight of age, authority, and personality. That he +had failed filled him with rage. + +"Say, for half a cent I'd kick you into the middle of next week," he +said, between clamped teeth. + +The cowpuncher's steel-blue eyes met his steadily. "Do you reckon that +would be quite safe?" he asked mildly. + +That was a question the conductor had been asking himself. He did not +know. A good many cowboys carried six-shooters tucked away on their ample +persons. It was very likely this one had not set out on his long journey +without one. + +"You're more obstinate than a Missouri mule," the railroad man exploded. +"I don't have to put up with you, and I won't!" + +"No?" + +The agent came out from the station waving two slips of paper. "Heard +from the super," he called. + +One wire was addressed to Dave, the other to the conductor. Dave read: + +Am instructing conductor to put you on siding and place train crew under +your orders to reload. + +Beneath was the signature of the superintendent. + +The conductor flushed purple as he read the orders sent by his superior. + +"Well," he stormed at Dave. "What do you want? Spit it out!" + +"Run me on the siding. I'm gonna take the calves out of the cars and tie +'em on the feed-racks above." + +"How're you goin' to get 'em up?" + +"Elbow grease." + +"If you think I'll turn my crew into freight elevators because some fool +cattleman didn't know how to load right--" + +"Maybe you've got a kick comin'. I'll not say you haven't. But this is an +emergency. I'm willin' to pay good money for the time they help me." Dave +made no reference to the telegram in his hand. He was giving the +conductor a chance to save his face. + +"Oh, well, that's different. I'll put it up to the boys." + +Three hours later the wheels were once more moving eastward. Dave had had +the calves roped down to the feed-racks above the cars. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE NIGHT CLERK GETS BUSY PRONTO + + +The stars were out long before Dave's train drew into the suburbs of +Denver. It crawled interminably through squalid residence sections, +warehouses, and small manufactories, coming to a halt at last in a +wilderness of tracks on the border of a small, narrow stream flowing +sluggishly between wide banks cut in the clay. + +Dave swung down from the caboose and looked round in the dim light for +the stockyards engine that was to pick up his cars and run them to the +unloading pens. He moved forward through the mud, searching the +semi-darkness for the switch engine. It was nowhere to be seen. + +He returned to the caboose. The conductor and brakemen were just leaving. + +"My engine's not here. Some one must 'a' slipped up on his job, looks +like. Where are the stockyards?" Sanders asked. + +The conductor was a small, middle-aged man who made it his business to +get along with everybody he could. He had distinctly refused to pick up +his predecessor's quarrel with Dave. Now he stopped and scratched his +head. + +"Too bad. Can't you go uptown and 'phone out to the stockyards? Or if you +want to take a street-car out there you'll have time to hop one at Stout +Street. Last one goes about midnight." + +In those days the telephone was not a universal necessity. Dave had never +used one and did not know how to get his connection. He spent several +minutes ringing up, shouting at the operator, and trying to understand +what she told him. He did not shout at the girl because he was annoyed. +His idea was that he would have to speak loud to have his voice carry. +At last he gave up, hot and perspiring from the mental exertion. + +Outside the drug-store he just had time to catch the last stockyards car. +His watch told him that it was two minutes past twelve. + +He stepped forty-five minutes later into an office in which sat two men +with their feet on a desk. The one in his shirt-sleeves was a smug, +baldish young man with clothes cut in the latest mode. He was rather +heavy-set and looked flabby. The other man appeared to be a visitor. + +"This the office of the Denver Terminal Stockyards Company?" asked Dave. + +The clerk looked the raw Arizonan over from head to foot and back again. +The judgment that he passed was indicated by the tone of his voice. + +"Name's on the door, ain't it?" he asked superciliously. + +"You in charge here?" + +The clerk was amused, or at least took the trouble to seem so. "You might +think so, mightn't you?" + +"Are you in charge?" asked Dave evenly. + +"Maybeso. What you want?" + +"I asked you if you was runnin' this office." + +"Hell, yes! What're your eyes for?" + +The clerk's visitor sniggered. + +"I've got a train of cattle on the edge of town," explained Dave. "The +stockyards engine didn't show up." + +"Consigned to us?" + +"To the Denver Terminal Stockyards Company." + +"Name of shipper?" + +"West Cattle Company and Henry B. West." + +"All right. I'll take care of 'em." The clerk turned back to his friend. +His manner dismissed the cowpuncher. "And she says to me, 'I'd love to go +with you, Mr. Edmonds; you dance like an angel.' Then I says--" + +"When?" interrupted Dave calmly, but those who knew him might have +guessed his voice was a little too gentle. + +"I says, 'You're some little kidder,' and--" + +"When?" + +The man who danced like an angel turned halfway round, and looked at the +cowboy over his shoulder. He was irritated. + +"When what?" he snapped. + +"When you goin' to onload my stock?" + +"In the morning." + +"No, sir. You'll have it done right now. That stock has been more'n two +days without water." + +"I'm not responsible for that." + +"No, but you'll be responsible if the train ain't onloaded now," said +Dave. + +"It won't hurt 'em to wait till morning." + +"That's where you're wrong. They're sufferin'. All of 'em are alive now, +but they won't all be by mo'nin' if they ain't 'tended to." + +"Guess I'll take a chance on that, since you say it's my responsibility," +replied the clerk impudently. + +"Not none," announced the man from Arizona. "You'll get busy pronto." + +"Say, is this my business or yours?" + +"Mine and yours both." + +"I guess I can run it. If I need any help from you I'll ask for it. Watch +me worry about your old cows. I have guys coming in here every day with +hurry-up tales about how their cattle won't live unless I get a wiggle on +me. I notice they all are able to take a little nourishment next day all +right, all right." + +Dave caught at the gate of the railing which was between him and the +night clerk. He could not find the combination to open it and therefore +vaulted over. He caught the clerk back of the neck by the collar and +jounced him up and down hard in his chair. + +"You're asleep," he explained. "I got to waken you up before you can sabe +plain talk." + +The clerk looked up out of a white, frightened face. "Say, don't do that. +I got heart trouble," he said in a voice dry as a whisper. + +"What about that onloadin' proposition?" asked the Arizonan. + +"I'll see to it right away." + +Presently the clerk, with a lantern in his hand, was going across to the +railroad tracks in front of Dave. He had quite got over the idea that +this lank youth was a safe person to make sport of. + +They found the switch crew in the engine of the cab playing seven-up. + +"Got a job for you. Train of cattle out at the junction," the clerk said, +swinging up to the cab. + +The men finished the hand and settled up, but within a few minutes the +engine was running out to the freight train. + +Day was breaking before Dave tumbled into bed. He had left a call with +the clerk to be wakened at noon. When the bell rang, it seemed to him +that he had not been asleep five minutes. + +After he had eaten at the stockyards hotel he went out to have a look at +his stock. He found that on the whole the cattle had stood the trip well. +While he was still inspecting them a voice boomed at him a question. + +"Well, young fellow, are you satisfied with all the trouble you've made +me?" + +He turned, to see standing before him the owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter +Circle brand. The boy's surprise fairly leaped from his eyes. + +"Didn't expect to see me here, I reckon," the cattleman went on. "Well, +I hopped a train soon as I got yore first wire. Spill yore story, young +man." + +Dave told his tale, while the ranchman listened in grim silence. When +Sanders had finished, the owner of the stock brought a heavy hand down on +his shoulder approvingly. + +"You can ship cattle for me long as you've a mind to, boy. You fought for +that stock like as if it had been yore own. You'll do to take along." + +Dave flushed with boyish pleasure. He had not known whether the cattleman +would approve what he had done, and after the long strain of the trip +this endorsement of his actions was more to him than food or drink. + +"They say I'm kinda stubborn. I didn't aim to lie down and let those guys +run one over me," he said. + +"Yore stubbornness is money in my pocket. Do you want to go back and ride +for the Fifty-Four Quarter Circle?" + +"Maybe, after a while, Mr. West. I got business in Denver for a few +days." + +The cattleman smiled. "Most of my boys have when they hit town, I +notice." + +"Mine ain't that kind. I reckon it's some more stubbornness," explained +Dave. + +"All right. When you've finished that business I can use you." + +If Dave could have looked into the future he would have known that the +days would stretch into months and the months to years before his face +would turn toward ranch life again. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LAW PUZZLES DAVE + + +Dave knew he was stubborn. Not many men would have come on such a +wild-goose chase to Denver in the hope of getting back a favorite horse +worth so little in actual cash. But he meant to move to his end +intelligently. + +If Miller and Doble were in the city they would be hanging out at some +saloon or gambling-house. Once or twice Dave dropped in to Chuck Weaver's +place, where the sporting men from all over the continent inevitably +drifted when in Denver. But he had little expectation of finding the men +he wanted there. These two rats of the underworld would not attempt to +fleece keen-eyed professionals. They would prey on the unsophisticated. + +His knowledge of their habits took him to that part of town below +Lawrence Street. While he chatted with his foot on the rail, a glass of +beer in front of him, he made inconspicuous inquiries of bartenders. It +did not take him long to strike the trail. + +"Two fellows I knew in the cattle country said they were comin' to +Denver. Wonder if they did. One of 'em's a big fat guy name o' +Miller--kinda rolls when he walks. Other's small and has a glass eye. +Called himself George Doble when I knew him." + +"Come in here 'most every day--both of 'em. Waitin' for the Festival of +Mountain and Plain to open up. Got some kinda concession. They look to +yours truly like--" + +The bartender pulled himself up short and began polishing the top of the +bar vigorously. He was a gossipy soul, and more than once his tongue had +got him into trouble. + +"You was sayin'--" suggested the cowboy. + +"--that they're good spenders, as the fellow says," amended the +bartender, to be on the safe side. + +"When I usta know 'em they had a mighty cute little trick pony--name was +Chiquito, seems to me. Ever hear 'em mention it?" + +"They was fussin' about that horse to-day. Seems they got an offer for +him and Doble wants to sell. Miller he says no." + +"Yes?" + +"I'll tell 'em a friend asked for 'em. What name?" + +"Yes, do. Jim Smith." + +"The fat old gobbler's liable to drop in any time now." + +This seemed a good reason to Mr. Jim Smith, _alias_ David Sanders, for +dropping out. He did not care to have Miller know just yet who the kind +friend was that had inquired for him. + +But just as he was turning away a word held him for a moment. The +discretion of the man in the apron was not quite proof against his habit +of talk. + +"They been quarrelin' a good deal together. I expect the combination is +about ready to bust up," he whispered confidentially. + +"Quarrelin'? What about?" + +"Oh, I dunno. They act like they're sore as a boil at each other. Honest, +I thought they was goin' to mix it yesterday. I breezed up wit' a bottle +an' they kinda cooled off." + +"Doble drunk?" + +"Nope. Fact is, they'd trimmed a Greeley boob and was rowin' about the +split. Miller he claimed Doble held out on him. I'll bet he did too." + +Dave did not care how much they quarreled or how soon they parted after +he had got back his horse. Until that time he preferred that they would +give him only one trail to follow instead of two. + +The cowpuncher made it his business to loaf on Larimer Street for the +rest of the day. His beat was between Fifteenth and Sixteenth Streets, +usually on the other side of the road from the Klondike Saloon. + +About four o'clock his patience was rewarded. Miller came rolling along +in a sort of sailor fashion characteristic of him. Dave had just time to +dive into a pawnbroker's shop unnoticed. + +A black-haired, black-eyed salesman came forward to wait on him. The +puncher cast an eye helplessly about him. It fell on a suitcase. + +"How much?" he asked. + +"Seven dollars. Dirt sheap, my frient." + +"Got any telescope grips?" + +The salesman produced one. Dave bought it because he did not know how to +escape without. + +He carried it with him while he lounged up and down the sidewalk waiting +for Miller to come out of the Klondike. When the fat gambler reappeared, +the range-rider fell in behind him unobserved and followed uptown past +the Tabor Opera House as far as California Street. Here they swung to the +left to Fourteenth, where Miller disappeared into a rooming-house. + +The amateur detective turned back toward the business section. On the way +he dropped guiltily the telescope grip into a delivery wagon standing in +front of a grocery. He had no use for it, and he had already come to feel +it a white elephant on his hands. + +With the aid of a city directory Dave located the livery stables within +walking distance of the house where Miller was staying. Inspired perhaps +by the nickel detective stories he had read, the cowboy bought a pair of +blue goggles and a "store" collar. In this last, substituted for the +handkerchief he usually wore loosely round his throat, the sleuth nearly +strangled himself for lack of air. His inquiries at such stables as he +found brought no satisfaction. Neither Miller nor the pinto had been seen +at any of them. + +Later in the evening he met Henry B. West at the St. James Hotel. + +"How's that business of yore's gettin' along, boy?" asked the cattleman +with a smile. + +"Don' know yet. Say, Mr. West, if I find a hawss that's been stole from +me, how can I get it back?" + +"Some one steal a hawss from you?" + +Dave told his story. West listened to a finish. + +"I know a lawyer here. We'll ask him what to do," the ranchman said. + +They found the lawyer at the Athletic Club. West stated the case. + +"Your remedy is to replevin. If they fight, you'll have to bring +witnesses to prove ownership." + +"Bring witnesses from Malapi! Why, I can't do that," said Dave, +staggered. "I ain't got the money. Why can't I just take the hawss? +It's mine." + +"The law doesn't know it's yours." + +Dave left much depressed. Of course the thieves would go to a lawyer, and +of course he would tell them to fight. The law was a darned queer thing. +It made the recovery of his property so costly that the crooks who stole +it could laugh at him. + +"Looks like the law's made to protect scalawags instead of honest folks," +Dave told West. + +"I don't reckon it is, but it acts that way sometimes," admitted the +cattleman. "You can see yoreself it wouldn't do for the law to say a +fellow could get property from another man by just sayin' it was his. +Sorry, Sanders. After all, a bronc's only a bronc. I'll give you yore +pick of two hundred if you come back with me to the ranch." + +"Much obliged, seh. Maybe I will later." + +The cowpuncher walked the streets while he thought it over. He had no +intention whatever of giving up Chiquito if he could find the horse. So +far as the law went he was in a blind alley. He was tied hand and foot. +That possession was nine points before the courts he had heard before. + +The way to recover flashed to his brain like a wave of light. He must get +possession. All he had to do was to steal his own horse and make for the +hills. If the thieves found him later--and the chances were that they +would not even attempt pursuit if he let them know who he was--he would +force them to the expense of going to law for Chiquito. What was sauce +for the goose must be for the gander too. + +Dave's tramp had carried him across the Platte into North Denver. On his +way back he passed a corral close to the railroad tracks. He turned in to +look over the horses. + +The first one his eyes fell on was Chiquito. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +FOR MURDER + + +Dave whistled. The pony pricked up its ears, looked round, and came +straight to him. The young man laid his face against the soft, silky +nose, fondled it, whispered endearments to his pet. He put the bronco +through its tricks for the benefit of the corral attendant. + +"Well, I'll be doggoned," that youth commented. "The little pinto sure is +a wonder. Acts like he knows you mighty well." + +"Ought to. I trained him. Had him before Miller got him." + +"Bet you hated to sell him." + +"You _know_ it." Dave moved forward to his end, the intention to get +possession of the horse. He spoke in a voice easy and casual. "Saw Miller +a while ago. They're talkin' about sellin' the paint hawss, him and +his pardner Doble. I'm to saddle up and show what Chiquito can do." + +"Say, that's a good notion. If I was a buyer I'd pay ten bucks more after +you'd put him through that circus stuff." + +"Which is Miller's saddle?" When it was pointed out to him, Dave examined +it and pretended to disapprove. "Too heavy. Lend me a lighter one, can't +you?" + +"Sure. Here's three or four. Help yourself." + +The wrangler moved into the stable to attend to his work. + +Dave cinched, swung to the saddle, and rode to the gate of the corral. +Two men were coming in, and by the sound of their voices were quarreling. +They stepped aside to let him pass, one on each side of the gate, so +that it was necessary to ride between them. + +They recognized the pinto at the same moment Dave did them. On the heels +of that recognition came another. + +Doble ripped out an oath and a shout of warning. "It's Sanders!" + +A gun flashed as the pony jumped to a gallop. The silent night grew noisy +with shots, voices, the clatter of hoofs. Twice Dave fired answers to the +challenges which leaped out of the darkness at him. He raced across the +bridge spanning the Platte and for a moment drew up on the other side to +listen for sounds which might tell him whether he would be pursued. One +last solitary revolver shot disturbed the stillness. + +The rider grinned. "Think he'd know better than to shoot at me this far." + +He broke his revolver, extracted the empty shells, and dropped them to +the street. Then he rode up the long hill toward Highlands, passed +through that suburb of the city, and went along the dark and dusty road +to the shadows of the Rockies silhouetted in the night sky. + +His flight had no definite objective except to put as much distance +between himself and Denver as possible. He knew nothing about the +geography of Colorado, except that a large part of the Rocky Mountains +and a delectable city called Denver lived there. His train trip to it had +told him that one of its neighbors was New Mexico, which was in turn +adjacent to Arizona. Therefore he meant to get to New Mexico as quickly +as Chiquito could quite comfortably travel. + +Unfortunately Dave was going west instead of south. Every step of the +pony was carrying him nearer the roof of the continent, nearer the passes +of the front range which lead, by divers valleys and higher mountains +beyond, to the snowclad regions of eternal white. + +Up in this altitude it was too cold to camp out without a fire and +blankets. + +"I reckon we'll keep goin', old pal," the young man told his horse. "I've +noticed roads mostly lead somewheres." + +Day broke over valleys of swirling mist far below the rider. The sun rose +and dried the moisture. Dave looked down on a town scattered up and down +a gulch. + +He met an ore team and asked the driver what town it was. The man looked +curiously at him. + +"Why, it's Idaho Springs," he said. "Where you come from?" + +Dave eased himself in the saddle. "From the Southwest." + +"You're quite a ways from home. I reckon your hills ain't so uncurried +down there, are they?" + +The cowpuncher looked over the mountains. He was among the summits, aglow +in the amber light of day with the many blended colors of wild flowers. +"We got some down there, too, that don't fit a lady's boodwar. Say, if I +keep movin' where'll this road take me?" + +The man with the ore team gave information. It struck Dave that he had +run into a blind alley. + +"If you're after a job, I reckon you can find one at some of the mines. +They're needin' hands," the teamster added. + +Perhaps this was the best immediate solution of the problem. The puncher +nodded farewell and rode down into the town. + +He left Chiquito at a livery barn, after having personally fed and +watered the pinto, and went himself to a hotel. Here he registered, not +under his own name, ate breakfast, and lay down for a few hours' sleep. +When he awakened he wrote a note with the stub of a pencil to Bob Hart. +It read: + +Well, Bob, I done got Chiquito back though it sure looked like I wasn't +going to but you never can tell and as old Buck Byington says its a hell +of a long road without no bend in it and which you can bet your boots the +old alkali is right at that. Well I found the little pie-eater in Denver +O K but so gaunt he wont hardly throw a shadow and what can you expect +of scalawags like Miller and Doble who don't know how to treat a horse. +Well I run Chiquito off right under their noses and we had a little gun +play and made my getaway and I reckon I will stay a spell and work here. +Well good luck to all the boys till I see them again in the sweet by and +by. + +Dave + +P.S. Get this money order cashed old-timer and pay the boys what I +borrowed when we hit the trail after Miller and Doble. I lit out to +sudden to settle. Five to Steve and five to Buck. Well so long. + +Dave + +The puncher went to the post-office, got a money order, and mailed the +letter, after which he returned to the hotel. He intended to eat dinner +and then look for work. + +Three or four men were standing on the steps of the hotel talking with +the proprietor. Dave was quite close before the Boniface saw him. + +"That's him," the hotel-keeper said in an excited whisper. + +A brown-faced man without a coat turned quickly and looked at Sanders. He +wore a belt with cartridges and a revolver. + +"What's your name?" he demanded. + +Dave knew at once this man was an officer of the law. He knew, too, the +futility of trying to escape under the pseudonym he had written on the +register. + +"Sanders--Dave Sanders." + +"I want you." + +"So? Who are you?" + +"Sheriff of the county." + +"Whadjawant me for?" + +"Murder." + +Dave gasped. His heart beat fast with a prescience of impending disaster. +"Murder," he repeated dully. + +"You're charged with the murder of George Doble last night in Denver." + +The boy stared at him with horror-stricken eyes. "Doble? My God, did I +kill him?" He clutched at a porch post to steady himself. The hills were +sliding queerly up into the sky. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +TEN YEARS + + +All the way back to Denver, while the train ran down through the narrow, +crooked cañon, Dave's mind dwelt in a penumbra of horror. It was +impossible he could have killed Doble, he kept telling himself. He had +fired back into the night without aim. He had not even tried to hit the +men who were shooting at him. It must be some ghastly joke. + +None the less he knew by the dull ache in his heart that this awful thing +had fastened on him and that he would have to pay the penalty. He had +killed a man, snuffed out his life wantonly as a result of taking the +law into his own hands. The knowledge of what he had done shook him to +the soul. + +It remained with him, in the background of his mind, up to and through +his trial. What shook his nerve was the fact that he had taken a life, +not the certainty of the punishment that must follow. + +West called to see him at the jail, and to the cattleman Dave told the +story exactly as it had happened. The owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter +Circle walked up and down the cell rumpling his hair. + +"Boy, why didn't you let on to me what you was figurin' on pullin' off? +I knew you was some bull-haided, but I thought you had a lick o' sense +left." + +"Wisht I had," said Dave miserably. + +"Well, what's done's done. No use cryin' over the bust-up. We'd better +fix up whatever's left from the smash. First off, we'll get a lawyer, I +reckon." + +"I gotta li'l' money left--twenty-six dollars," spoke up Dave timidly. +"Maybe that's all he'll want." + +West smiled at this babe in the woods. "It'll last as long as a snowball +in you-know-where if he's like some lawyers I've met up with." + +It did not take the lawyer whom West engaged long to decide on the line +the defense must take. "We'll show that Miller and Doble were crooks and +that they had wronged Sanders. That will count a lot with a jury," he +told West. "We'll admit the killing and claim self-defense." + +The day before the trial Dave was sitting in his cell cheerlessly reading +a newspaper when visitors were announced. At sight of Emerson Crawford +and Bob Hart he choked in his throat. Tears brimmed in his eyes. Nobody +could have been kinder to him than West had been, but these were home +folks. He had known them many years. Their kindness in coming melted his +heart. + +He gripped their hands, but found himself unable to say anything in +answer to their greetings. He was afraid to trust his voice, and he +was ashamed of his emotion. + +"The boys are for you strong, Dave. We all figure you done right. Steve +he says he wouldn't worry none if you'd got Miller too," Bob breezed on. + +"Tha's no way to talk, son," reproved Crawford. "It's bad enough right +as it is without you boys wantin' it any worse. But don't you get +downhearted, Dave. We're allowin' to stand by you to a finish. It ain't +as if you'd got a good man. Doble was a mean-hearted scoundrel if ever +I met up with one. He's no loss to society. We're goin' to show the jury +that too." + +They did. By the time Crawford, Hart, and a pair of victims who had been +trapped by the sharpers had testified about Miller and Doble, these +worthies had no shred of reputation left with the jury. It was shown +that they had robbed the defendant of the horse he had trained and that +he had gone to a lawyer and found no legal redress within his means. + +But Dave was unable to prove self-defense. Miller stuck doggedly to his +story. The cowpuncher had fired the first shot. He had continued to fire, +though he must have seen Doble sink to the ground immediately. Moreover, +the testimony of the doctor showed that the fatal shot had taken effect +at close range. + +Just prior to this time there had been an unusual number of killings in +Denver. The newspapers had stirred up a public sentiment for stricter +enforcement of law. They had claimed that both judges and juries were too +easy on the gunmen who committed these crimes. Now they asked if this +cowboy killer was going to be allowed to escape. Dave was tried when this +wave of feeling was at its height and he was a victim of it. + +The jury found him guilty of murder in the second degree. The judge +sentenced him to ten years in the penitentiary. + +When Bob Hart came to say good-bye before Dave was removed to Cañon City, +the young range-rider almost broke down. He was greatly distressed at the +misfortune that had befallen his friend. + +"We're gonna stay with this, Dave. You know Crawford. He goes through +when he starts. Soon as there's a chance we'll hit the Governor for a +pardon. It's a damn shame, old pal. Tha's what it is." + +Dave nodded. A lump in his throat interfered with speech. + +"The ol' man lent me money to buy Chiquito, and I'm gonna keep the pinto +till you get out. That'll help pay yore lawyer," continued Bob. "One +thing more. You're not the only one that's liable to be sent up. +Miller's on the way back to Malapi. If he don't get a term for +hawss-stealin', I'm a liar. We got a dead open-and-shut case against +him." + +The guard who was to take Dave to the penitentiary bustled in cheerfully. +"All right, boys. If you're ready we'll be movin' down to the depot." + +The friends shook hands again. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +IN DENVER + + +The warden handed him a ticket back to Denver, and with it a stereotyped +little lecture of platitudes. + +"Your future lies before you to be made or marred by yourself, Sanders. +You owe it to the Governor who has granted this parole and to the good +friends who have worked so hard for it that you be honest and industrious +and temperate. If you do this the world will in time forget your past +mistakes and give you the right hand of fellowship, as I do now." + +The paroled man took the fat hand proffered him because he knew the +warden was a sincere humanitarian. He meant exactly what he said. Perhaps +he could not help the touch of condescension. But patronage, no matter +how kindly meant, was one thing this tall, straight convict would not +stand. He was quite civil, but the hard, cynical eyes made the warden +uncomfortable. Once or twice before he had known prisoners like this, +quiet, silent men who were never insolent, but whose eyes told him that +the iron had seared their souls. + +The voice of the warden dropped briskly to business. "Seen the +bookkeeper? Everything all right, I suppose." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Good. Well, wish you luck." + +"Thanks." + +The convict turned away, grave, unsmiling. + +The prison officer's eyes followed him a little wistfully. His function, +as he understood it, was to win these men back to fitness for service to +the society which had shut them up for their misdeeds. They were not +wild beasts. They were human beings who had made a misstep. Sometimes he +had been able to influence men strongly, but he felt that it had not been +true of this puncher from the cow country. + +Sanders walked slowly out of the office and through the door in the wall +that led back to life. He was free. To-morrow was his. All the to-morrows +of all the years of his life were waiting for him. But the fact stirred +in him no emotion. As he stood in the dry Colorado sunshine his heart was +quite dead. + +In the earlier days of his imprisonment it had not been so. He had +dreamed often of this hour. At night, in the darkness of his cell, +imagination had projected picture after picture of it, vivid, colorful, +set to music. But his parole had come too late. The years had taken +their toll of him. The shadow of the prison had left its chill, had done +something to him that had made him a different David Sanders from the boy +who had entered. He wondered if he would ever learn to laugh again, if he +would ever run to meet life eagerly as that other David Sanders had a +thousand years ago. + +He followed the road down to the little station and took a through train +that came puffing out of the Royal Gorge on its way to the plains. +Through the crowd at the Denver depot he passed into the city, moving +up Seventeenth Street without definite aim or purpose. His parole had +come unexpectedly, so that none of his friends could meet him even if +they had wanted to do so. He was glad of this. He preferred to be alone, +especially during these first days of freedom. It was his intention to go +back to Malapi, to the country he knew and loved, but he wished to pick +up a job in the city for a month or two until he had settled into a frame +of mind in which liberty had become a habit. + +Early next morning he began his search for work. It carried him to a +lumber yard adjoining the railroad yards. + +"We need a night watchman," the superintendent said. "Where'd you work +last?" + +"At Cañon City." + +The lumberman looked at him quickly, a question in his glance. + +"Yes," Dave went on doggedly. "In the penitentiary." + +A moment's awkward embarrassment ensued. + +"What were you in for?" + +"Killing a man." + +"Too bad. I'm afraid--" + +"He had stolen my horse and I was trying to get it back. I had no +intention of hitting him when I fired." + +"I'd take you in a minute so far as I'm concerned personally, but our +board of directors--afraid they wouldn't like it. That's one trouble in +working for a corporation." + +Sanders turned away. The superintendent hesitated, then called after him. + +"If you're up against it and need a dollar--" + +"Thanks. I don't. I'm looking for work, not charity," the applicant said +stiffly. + +Wherever he went it was the same. As soon as he mentioned the prison, +doors of opportunity closed to him. Nobody wanted to employ a man +tarred with that pitch. It did not matter why he had gone, under what +provocation he had erred. The thing that damned him was that he had been +there. It was a taint, a corrosion. + +He could have picked up a job easily enough if he had been willing to lie +about his past. But he had made up his mind to tell the truth. In the +long run he could not conceal it. Better start with the slate clean. + +When he got a job it was to unload cars of fruit for a commission house. +A man was wanted in a hurry and the employer did not ask any questions. +At the end of an hour he was satisfied. + +"Fellow hustles peaches like he'd been at it all his life," the +commission man told his partner. + +A few days later came the question that Sanders had been expecting. +"Where'd you work before you came to us?" + +"At the penitentiary." + +"A guard?" asked the merchant, taken aback. + +"No. I was a convict." The big lithe man in overalls spoke quietly, his +eyes meeting those of the Market Street man with unwavering steadiness. + +"What was the trouble?" + +Dave explained. The merchant made no comment, but when he paid off the +men Saturday night he said with careful casualness, "Sorry, Sanders. The +work will be slack next week. I'll have to lay you off." + +The man from Cañon City understood. He looked for another place, was +rebuffed a dozen times, and at last was given work by an employer who had +vision enough to know the truth that the bad men do not all go to prison +and that some who go may be better than those who do not. + +In this place Sanders lasted three weeks. He was doing concrete work on a +viaduct job for a contractor employed by the city. + +This time it was a fellow-workman who learned of the Arizonan's record. +A letter from Emerson Crawford, forwarded by the warden of the +penitentiary, dropped out of Dave's coat pocket where it hung across +a plank. + +The man who picked it up read the letter before returning it to the +pocket. He began at once to whisper the news. The subject was discussed +back and forth among the men on the quiet. Sanders guessed they had +discovered who he was, but he waited for them to move. His years in +prison had given him at least the strength of patience. He could bide +his time. + +They went to the contractor. He reasoned with them. + +"Does his work all right, doesn't he? Treats you all civilly. Doesn't +force himself on you. I don't see any harm in him." + +"We ain't workin' with no jail bird," announced the spokesman. + +"He told me the story and I've looked it up since. Talked with the lawyer +that defended him. He says the man Sanders killed was a bad lot and had +stolen his horse from him. Sanders was trying to get it back. He claimed +self-defense, but couldn't prove it." + +"Don't make no difference. The jury said he was guilty, didn't it?" + +"Suppose he was. We've got to give him a chance when he comes out, +haven't we?" + +Some of the men began to weaken. They were not cruel, but they were +children of impulse, easily led by those who had force enough to push +to the front. + +"I won't mix cement with no convict," the self-appointed leader announced +flatly. "That goes." + +The contractor met him eye to eye. "You don't have to, Reynolds. You can +get your time." + +"Meanin' that you keep him on the job and let me go?" + +"That's it exactly. Long as he does his work well I'll not ask him to +quit." + +A shadow darkened the doorway of the temporary office. The Arizonan +stepped in with his easy, swinging stride, a lithe, straight-backed +Hermes showing strength of character back of every movement. + +"I'm leaving to-day, Mr. Shields." His voice carried the quiet power of +reserve force. + +"Not because I want you to, Sanders." + +"Because I'm not going to stay and make you trouble." + +"I don't think it will come to that. I'm talking it over with the boys +now. Your work stands up. I've no criticism." + +"I'll not stay now, Mr. Shields. Since they've complained to you I'd +better go." + +The ex-convict looked around, the eyes in his sardonic face hard and +bitter. If he could have read the thoughts of the men it would have been +different. Most of them were ashamed of their protest. They would have +liked to have drawn back, but they did not know how to say so. Therefore +they stood awkwardly silent. Afterward, when it was too late, they talked +it over freely enough and blamed each other. + +From one job to another Dave drifted. His stubborn pride, due in part to +a native honesty that would not let him live under false pretenses, in +part to a bitterness that had become dogged defiance, kept him out of +good places and forced him to do heavy, unskilled labor that brought the +poorest pay. + +Yet he saved money, bought himself good, cheap clothes, and found energy +to attend night school where he studied stationary and mechanical +engineering. He lived wholly within himself, his mental reactions tinged +with morose scorn. He found little comfort either in himself or in the +external world, in spite of the fact that he had determined with all his +stubborn will to get ahead. + +The library he patronized a good deal, but he gave no time to general +literature. His reading was of a highly specialized nature. He studied +everything that he could find about the oil fields of America. + +The stigma of his disgrace continued to raise its head. One of the +concrete workers was married to the sister of the woman from whom he +rented his room. The quiet, upstanding man who never complained or asked +any privileges had been a favorite of hers, but she was a timid, +conventional soul. Visions of her roomers departing in a flock when they +found out about the man in the second floor back began to haunt her +dreams. Perhaps he might rob them all at night. In a moment of nerve +tension, summoning all her courage, she asked the killer from the cattle +country if he would mind leaving. + +He smiled grimly and began to pack. For several days he had seen it +coming. When he left, the expressman took his trunk to the station. The +ticket which Sanders bought showed Malapi as his destination. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +DAVE MEETS TWO FRIENDS AND A FOE + + +In the early morning Dave turned to rest his cramped limbs. He was in a +day coach, and his sleep through the night had been broken. The light +coming from the window woke him. He looked out on the opalescent dawn +of the desert, and his blood quickened at sight of the enchanted mesa. +To him came that joyous thrill of one who comes home to his own after +years of exile. + +Presently he saw the silvery sheen of the mesquite when the sun is +streaming westward. Dust eddies whirled across the barranca. The prickly +pear and the palo verde flashed past, green splashes against a background +of drab. The pudgy creosote, the buffalo grass, the undulation of sand +hills were an old story, but to-day his eyes devoured them hungrily. The +wonderful effect of space and light, the cloud skeins drawn out as by +some invisible hand, the brown ribbon of road that wandered over the +hill: they brought to him an emotion poignant and surprising. + +The train slid into a narrow valley bounded by hills freakishly eroded to +fantastic shapes. Piñon trees fled to the rear. A sheep corral fenced +with brush and twisted roots, in which were long, shallow feed troughs +and flat-roofed sheds, leaped out of nowhere, was for a few moments, and +vanished like a scene in a moving picture. A dim, gray mass of color on a +hillside was agitated like a sea wave. It was a flock of sheep moving +toward the corral. For an instant Dave caught a glimpse of a dog circling +the huddled pack; then dog and sheep were out of sight together. + +The pictures stirred memories of the acrid smoke of hill camp-fires, of +nights under a tarp with the rain beating down on him, and still others +of a road herd bawling for water, of winter camps when the ropes were +frozen stiff and the snow slid from trees in small avalanches. + +At the junction he took the stage for Malapi. Already he could see that +he was going into a new world, one altogether different from that he had +last seen here. These men were not cattlemen. They talked the vocabulary +of oil. They had the shrewd, keen look of the driller and the wildcatter. +They were full of nervous energy that oozed out in constant conversation. + +"Jackpot Number Three lost a string o' tools yesterday. While they're +fishin', Steelman'll be drillin' hell-a-mile. You got to sit up all night +to beat that Coal Oil Johnny," one wrinkled little man said. + +A big man in boots laced over corduroy trousers nodded. "He's smooth as a +pump plunger, and he sure has luck. He can buy up a dry hole any old time +and it'll be a gusher in a week. He'll bust Em Crawford high and dry +before he finishes with him. Em had ought to 'a' stuck to cattle. That's +one game he knows from hoof to hide." + +"Sure. Em's got no business in oil. Say, do you know when they're +expectin' Shiloh Number Two in?" + +"She's into the sand now, but still dry as a cork leg. That's liable to +put a crimp in Em's bank roll, don't you reckon?" + +"Yep. Old Man Hard Luck's campin' on his trail sure enough. The banks'll +be shakin' their heads at his paper soon." + +The stage had stopped to take on a mailsack. Now it started again, and +the rest of the talk was lost to Dave. But he had heard enough to guess +that the old feud between Crawford and Steelman had taken on a new phase, +one in which his friend was likely to get the worst of it. + +At Malapi Dave descended from the stage into a town he hardly knew. It +had the same wide main street, but the business section extended five +blocks instead of one. Everywhere oil dominated the place. Hotels, +restaurants, and hardware stores jostled saloons and gambling-houses. +Tents had been set up in vacant lots beside frame buildings, and in them +stores, rooming-houses, and lunch-counters were doing business. Everybody +was in a hurry. The street was filled with men who had to sleep with one +eye open lest they miss the news of some new discovery. + +The town was having growing-pains. One contractor was putting down +sidewalks in the same street where another laid sewer pipe and a third +put in telephone poles. A branch line of a trans-continental railroad was +moving across the desert to tap the new oil field. Houses rose overnight. +Mule teams jingled in and out freighting supplies to Malapi and from +there to the fields. On all sides were rustle, energy, and optimism, +signs of the new West in the making. + +Up the street a team of half-broken broncos came on the gallop, weaving +among the traffic with a certainty that showed a skilled pair of hands +at the reins. From the buckboard stepped lightly a straight-backed, +well-muscled young fellow. He let out a moment later a surprised shout +of welcome and fell upon Sanders with two brown fists. + +"Dave! Where in Mexico you been, old alkali? We been lookin' for you +everywhere." + +"In Denver, Bob." + +Sanders spoke quietly. His eyes went straight into those of Bob Hart to +see what was written there. He found only a glad and joyous welcome, +neither embarrassment nor any sign of shame. + +"But why didn't you write and let us know?" Bob grew mildly profane in +his warmth. He was as easy as though his friend had come back from a week +in the hills on a deer hunt. "We didn't know when the Governor was goin' +to act. Or we'd 'a' been right at the gate, me or Em Crawford one. Whyn't +you answer our letters, you darned old scalawag? Dawggone, but I'm glad +to see you." + +Dave's heart warmed to this fine loyalty. He knew that both Hart and +Crawford had worked in season and out of season for a parole or a pardon. +But it's one thing to appear before a pardon board for a convict in whom +you are interested and quite another to welcome him to your heart when he +stands before you. Bob would do to tie to, Sanders told himself with a +rush of gratitude. None of this feeling showed in his dry voice. + +"Thanks, Bob." + +Hart knew already that Dave had come back a changed man. He had gone in a +boy, wild, turbulent, untamed. He had come out tempered by the fires of +experience and discipline. The steel-gray eyes were no longer frank and +gentle. They judged warily and inscrutably. He talked little and mostly +in monosyllables. It was a safe guess that he was master of his impulses. +In his manner was a cold reticence entirely foreign to the Dave Sanders +his friend had known and frolicked with. Bob felt in him a quality of +dangerous strength as hard and cold as hammered iron. + +"Where's yore trunk? I'll take it right up to my shack," Hart said. + +"I've rented a room." + +"Well, you can onrent it. You're stayin' with me." + +"No, Bob. I reckon I won't do that. I'll live alone awhile." + +"No, sir. What do you take me for? We'll load yore things up on the +buckboard." + +Dave shook his head. "I'm much obliged, but I'd rather not yet. Got to +feel out my way while I learn the range here." + +To this Bob did not consent without a stiff protest, but Sanders was +inflexible. + +"All right. Suit yoreself. You always was stubborn as a Missouri mule," +Hart said with a grin. "Anyhow, you'll eat supper with me. Le's go to the +Delmonico for ol' times' sake. We'll see if Hop Lee knows you. I'll bet +he does." + +Hart had come in to see a contractor about building a derrick for a well. +"I got to see him now, Dave. Go along with me," he urged. + +"No, see you later. Want to get my trunk from the depot." + +They arranged an hour of meeting at the restaurant. + +In front of the post-office Bob met Joyce Crawford. The young woman had +fulfilled the promise of her girlhood. As she moved down the street, tall +and slender, there was a light, joyous freedom in her step. So Ellen +Terry walked in her resilient prime. + +"Miss Joyce, he's here," Bob said. + +"Who--Dave?" + +She and her father and Bob had more than once met as a committee of three +to discuss the interests of Sanders both before and since his release. +The week after he left Cañon City letters of thanks had reached both Hart +and Crawford, but these had given no address. Their letters to him had +remained unanswered nor had a detective agency been able to find him. + +"Yes, ma'am, Dave! He's right here in town. Met him half an hour ago." + +"I'm glad. How does he look?" + +"He's grown older, a heap older. And he's different. You know what an +easy-goin' kid he was, always friendly and happy as a half-grown pup. +Well, he ain't thataway now. Looks like he never would laugh again +real cheerful. I don't reckon he ever will. He's done got the prison +brand on him for good. I couldn't see my old Dave in him a-tall. He's +hard as nails--and bitter." + +The brown eyes softened. "He would be, of course. How could he help it?" + +"And he kinda holds you off. He's been hurt bad and ain't takin' no +chances whatever, don't you reckon?" + +"Do you mean he's broken?" + +"Not a bit. He's strong, and he looks at you straight and hard. But +they've crushed all the kid outa him. He was a mighty nice boy, Dave was. +I hate to lose him." + +"When can I see him?" she asked. + +Bob looked at his watch. "I got an appointment to meet him at Delmonico's +right now. Maybe I can get him to come up to the house afterward." + +Joyce was a young woman who made swift decisions. "I'll go with you now," +she said. + +Sanders was standing in front of the restaurant, but he was faced in the +other direction. His flat, muscular back was rigid. In his attitude was a +certain tenseness, as though his body was a bundle of steel springs ready +to be released. + +Bob's eye traveled swiftly past him to a fat man rolling up the street on +the opposite sidewalk. "It's Ad Miller, back from the pen. I heard he got +out this week," he told the girl in a low voice. + +Joyce Crawford felt the blood ebb from her face. It was as though her +heart had been drenched with ice water. What was going to take place +between these men? Were they armed? Would the gambler recognize his old +enemy? + +She knew that each was responsible for the other's prison sentence. +Sanders had followed the thieves to Denver and found them with his horse. +The fat crook had lied Dave into the penitentiary by swearing that the +boy had fired the first shots. Now they were meeting for the first time +since. + +Miller had been drinking. The stiff precision of his gait showed that. +For a moment it seemed that he would pass without noticing the man across +the road. Then, by some twist of chance, he decided to take the sidewalk +on the other side. The sign of the Delmonico had caught his eye and he +remembered that he was hungry. + +He took one step--and stopped. He had recognized Sanders. His eyes +narrowed. The head on his short, red neck was thrust forward. + +"Goddlemighty!" he screamed, and next moment was plucking a revolver from +under his left armpit. + +Bob caught Joyce and swept her behind him, covering her with his body as +best he could. At the same time Sanders plunged forward, arrow-straight +and swift. The revolver cracked. It spat fire a second time, a third. The +tiger-man, head low, his whole splendid body vibrant with energy, hurled +himself across the road as though he had been flung from a catapult. A +streak of fire ripped through his shoulder. Another shot boomed almost +simultaneously. He thudded hard into the fat paunch of the gunman. They +went down together. + +The fingers of Dave's left hand closed on the fat wrist of the gambler. +His other hand tore the revolver away from the slack grasp. The gun rose +and fell. Miller went into unconsciousness without even a groan. The +corrugated butt of the gun had crashed down on his forehead. + +Dizzily Sanders rose. He leaned against a telephone pole for support. The +haze cleared to show him the white, anxious face of a young woman. + +"Are you hurt?" she asked. + +Dave looked at Joyce, wondering at her presence here. "He's the one +that's hurt," he answered quietly. + +"I thought--I was afraid--" Her voice died away. She felt her knees grow +weak. To her this man had appeared to be plunging straight to death. + +No excitement in him reached the surface. His remarkably steady eyes +still held their grim, hard tenseness, but otherwise his self-control was +perfect. He was absolutely imperturbable. + +"He was shootin' wild. Sorry you were here, Miss Crawford." His eyes +swept the gathering crowd. "You'd better go, don't you reckon?" + +"Yes.... You come too, please." The girl's voice broke. + +"Don't worry. It's all over." He turned to the crowd. "He began shootin +'at me. I was unarmed. He shot four times before I got to him." + +"Tha's right. I saw it from up street," a stranger volunteered. "Where do +you take out yore insurance, friend? I'd like to get some of the same." + +"I'll be in town here if I'm wanted," Dave announced before he came back +to where Bob and Joyce were standing. "Now we'll move, Miss Crawford." + +At the second street corner he stopped, evidently intending to go no +farther. "I'll say good-bye, for this time. I'll want to see Mr. Crawford +right soon. How is little Keith comin' on?" + +She had mentioned that the boy frequently spoke of him. + +"Can you come up to see Father to-night? Or he'll go to your room if +you'd rather." + +"Maybe to-morrow--" + +"He'll be anxious to see you. I want you and Bob to come to dinner +Sunday." + +"Don't hardly think I'll be here Sunday. My plans aren't settled. Thank +you just the same, Miss Crawford." + +She took his words as a direct rebuff. There was a little lump in her +throat that she had to get rid of before she spoke again. + +"Sorry. Perhaps some other time." Joyce gave him her hand. "I'm mighty +glad to have seen you again, Mr. Sanders." + +He bowed. "Thank you." + +After she had gone, Dave turned swiftly to his friend. "Where's the +nearest doctor's office? Miller got me in the shoulder." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +OIL + + +"I'll take off my hat to Dave," said Hart warmly. "He's chain lightnin'. +I never did see anything like the way he took that street in two jumps. +And game? Did you ever hear tell of an unarmed man chargin' a guy with a +gun spittin' at him?" + +"I always knew he had sand in his craw. What does Doc Green say?" asked +Crawford, lighting a corncob pipe. + +"Says nothin' to worry about. A flesh wound in the shoulder. Ought to +heal up in a few days." + +Miss Joyce speaking, with an indignant tremor of the voice: "It was +the most cowardly thing I ever saw. He was unarmed, and he hadn't +lifted a finger when that ruffian began to shoot. I was sure he would +be ... killed." + +"He'll take a heap o' killin', that boy," her father reassured. "In a way +it's a good thing this happened now. His enemies have showed their hand. +They tried to gun him, before witnesses, while he was unarmed. Whatever +happens now, Dave's got public sentiment on his side. I'm always glad to +have my enemy declare himself. Then I can take measures." + +"What measures can Dave take?" asked Joyce. + +A faint, grim smile flitted across the old cattleman's face. "Well, one +measure he'll take pronto will be a good six-shooter on his hip. One I'll +take will be to send Miller back to the pen, where he belongs, soon as I +can get court action. He's out on parole, like Dave is. All the State has +got to do is to reach out and haul him back again." + +"If it can find him," added Bob dryly. "I'll bet it can't. He's headed +for the hills or the border right now." + +Crawford rose. "Well, I'll run down with you to his room and see the boy, +Bob. Wisht he would come up and stay with us. Maybe he will." + +To the cattleman Dave made light of his wound. He would be all right in a +few days, he said. It was only a scratch. + +"Tha's good, son," Crawford answered. "Well, now, what are you aimin' to +do? I got a job for you on the ranch if tha's what you want. Or I can use +you in the oil business. It's for you to say which." + +"Oil," said Dave without a moment of hesitation. "I want to learn that +business from the ground up. I've been reading all I could get on the +subject." + +"Good enough, but don't you go to playin' geology too strong, Dave. Oil +is where it's at. The formation don't amount to a damn. You'll find it +where you find it." + +"Mr. Crawford ain't strong for the scientific sharps since a college +professor got him to drill a nice straight hole on Round Top plumb +halfway to China," drawled Bob with a grin. + +"I suppose it's a gamble," agreed Sanders. + +"Worse'n the cattle market, and no livin' man can guess that," said the +owner of the D Bar Lazy R dogmatically. "Bob, you better put Dave with +the crew of that wildcat you're spuddin' in, don't you reckon?" + +"I'll put him on afternoon tower in place of that fellow Scott. I've been +intendin' to fire him soon as I could get a good man." + +"Much obliged to you both. Hope you've found that good man," said +Sanders. + +"We have. Ain't either of us worryin' about that." With a quizzical smile +Crawford raised a point that was in his mind. "Say, son, you talk a heap +more like a book than you used to. You didn't slip one over on us and go +to college, did you?" + +"I went to school in the penitentiary," Dave said. + +He had been immured in a place of furtive, obscene whisperings, but he +had found there not only vice. There was the chance of an education. He +had accepted it at first because he dared not let himself be idle in his +spare time. That way lay degeneration and the loss of his manhood. He had +studied under competent instructors English, mathematics, the Spanish +grammar, and mechanical drawing, as well as surveying and stationary +engineering. He had read some of the world's best literature. He had +waded through a good many histories. If his education in books was +lopsided, it was in some respects more thorough than that of many a +college boy. + +Dave did not explain all this. He let his simple statement of fact stand +without enlarging on it. His life of late years had tended to make him +reticent. + +"Heard from Burns yet about that fishin' job on Jackpot Number Three?" +Bob asked Crawford. + +"Only that he thinks he hooked the tools and lost 'em again. Wisht you'd +run out in the mo'nin', son, and see what's doin'. I got to go out to the +ranch." + +"I'll drive out to-night and take Dave with me if he feels up to it. Then +we'll know the foreman keeps humpin'." + +"Fine and dandy." The cattleman turned to Sanders. "But I reckon you +better stay right here and rest up. Time enough for you to go to work +when yore shoulder's all right." + +"Won't hurt me a bit to drive out with Bob. This thing's going to keep me +awake anyhow. I'd rather be outdoors." + +They drove out in the buckboard behind the half-broken colts. The young +broncos went out of town to a flying start. They raced across the plain +as hard as they could tear, the light rig swaying behind them as the +wheels hit the high spots. Not till they had worn out their first wild +energy was conversation possible. + +Bob told of his change of occupation. + +"Started dressin' tools on a wildcat test for Crawford two years ago when +he first begun to plunge in oil. Built derricks for a while. Ran a drill. +Dug sump holes. Shot a coupla wells. Went in with a fellow on a star rig +as pardner. Went busted and took Crawford's offer to be handy man for +him. Tha's about all, except that I own stock in two-three dead ones and +some that ain't come to life yet." + +The road was full of chuck holes and very dusty, both faults due to the +heavy travel that went over it day and night. They were in the oil field +now and gaunt derricks tapered to the sky to right and left of them. +Occasionally Dave could hear the kick of an engine or could see a big +beam pumping. + +"I suppose most of the D Bar Lazy R boys have got into oil some," +suggested Sanders. + +"Every man, woman, and kid around is in oil neck deep," Bob answered. +"Malapi's gone oil crazy. Folks are tradin' and speculatin' in stock +and royalty rights that never could amount to a hill o' beans. Slick +promoters are gettin' rich. I've known photographers to fake gushers in +their dark-rooms. The country's full of abandoned wells of busted +companies. Oil is a big man's game. It takes capital to operate. I'll +bet it ain't onct in a dozen times an investor gets a square run for +his white alley, at that." + +"There are crooks in every game." + +"Sure, but oil's so darned temptin' to a crook. All the suckers are +shovin' money at a promoter. They don't ask his capitalization or +investigate his field. Lots o' promoters would hate like Sam Hill to +strike oil. If they did they'd have to take care of it. That's a lot +of trouble. They can make more organizin' a new company and rakin' in +money from new investors." + +Bob swung the team from the main road and put it at a long rise. + +"There ain't nothin' easier than to drop money into a hole in the +ground and call it an oil well," he went on. "Even if the proposition +is absolutely on the level, the chances are all against the investor. +It's a fifty-to-one shot. Tools are lost, the casin' collapses, the cable +breaks, money gives out, shootin' is badly done, water filters in, or oil +ain't there in payin' quantities. In a coupla years you can buy a deskful +of no-good stock for a dollar Mex." + +"Then why is everybody in it?" + +"We've all been bit by this get-rich-quick bug. If you hit it right in +oil you can wear all the diamonds you've a mind to. That's part of it, +but it ain't all. The West always did like to take a chance, I reckon. +Well, this is gamblin' on a big scale and it gets into a fellow's blood. +We're all crazy, but we'd hate to be cured." + +The driver stopped at the location of Jackpot Number Three and invited +his friend to get out. + +"Make yoreself to home, Dave. I reckon you ain't sorry that fool team has +quit joltin' yore shoulder." + +Sanders was not, but he did not say so. He could stand the pain of his +wound easily enough, but there was enough of it to remind him pretty +constantly that he had been in a fight. + +The fishing for the string of lost tools was going on by lamplight. With +a good deal of interest Dave examined the big hooks that had been sent +down in an unsuccessful attempt to draw out the drill. It was a slow +business and a not very interesting one. The tools seemed as hard to hook +as a wily old trout. Presently Sanders wandered to the bunkhouse and sat +down on the front step. He thought perhaps he had not been wise to come +out with Hart. His shoulder throbbed a good deal. + +After a time Bob joined him. Faintly there came to them the sound of an +engine thumping. + +"Steelman's outfit," said Hart gloomily. "His li'l' old engine goes right +on kickin' all the darned time. If he gets to oil first we lose. Man who +makes first discovery on a claim wins out in this country." + +"How's that? Didn't you locate properly?" + +"Had no time to do the assessment work after we located. Dug a sump hole, +maybe. Brad jumps in when the field here began to look up. Company that +shows oil first will sure win out." + +"How deep has he drilled?" + +"We're a li'l' deeper--not much. Both must be close to the sands. We were +showin' driller's smut when we lost our string." Bob reached into his hip +pocket and drew out "the makings." He rolled his cigarette and lit it. +"I reckon Steelman's a millionaire now--on paper, anyhow. He was about +busted when he got busy in oil. He was lucky right off, and he's crooked +as a dawg's hind laig--don't care how he gets his, so he gets it. He sure +trimmed the suckers a-plenty." + +"He and Crawford are still unfriendly," Dave suggested, the inflection of +his voice making the statement a question. + +"Onfriendly!" drawled Bob, leaning back against the step and letting a +smoke ring curl up. "Well, tha's a good, nice parlor word. Yes, I reckon +you could call them onfriendly." Presently he went on, in explanation: +"Brad's goin' to put Crawford down and out if it can be done by hook or +crook. He's a big man in the country now. We haven't been lucky, like he +has. Besides, the ol' man's company's on the square. This business ain't +like cows. It takes big money to swing. You make or break mighty sudden." + +"Yes." + +"And Steelman won't stick at a thing. Wouldn't trust him or any one of +his crowd any further than I could sling a bull by the tail. He'd blow +Crawford and me sky high if he thought he could get away with it." + +Sanders nodded agreement. He hadn't a doubt of it. + +With a thumb jerk toward the beating engine, Bob took up again his story. +"Got a bunch of thugs over there right now ready for business if +necessary. Imported plug-uglies and genuwine blown-in-the-bottle home +talent. Shorty's still one of the gang, and our old friend Dug Doble is +boss of the rodeo. I'm lookin' for trouble if we win out and get to oil +first." + +"You think they'll attack." + +A gay light of cool recklessness danced in the eyes of the young oilman. +"I've a kinda notion they'll drap over and pay us a visit one o' these +nights, say in the dark of the moon. If they do--well, we certainly aim +to welcome them proper." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +DOBLE PAYS A VISIT + + +"Hello, the Jackpot!" + +Out of the night the call came to the men at the bunkhouse. + +Bob looked at his companion and grinned. "Seems to me I recognize that +melojious voice." + +A man stepped from the gloom with masterful, arrogant strides. + +"'Lo, Hart," he said. "Can you lend me a reamer?" + +Bob knew he had come to spy out the land and not to borrow tools. + +"Don't seem to me we've hardly got any reamers to spare, Dug," drawled +the young man sitting on the porch floor. "What's the trouble? Got a kink +in yore casin'?" + +"Not so you could notice it, but you never can tell when you're goin' to +run into bad luck, can you?" He sat down on the porch and took a cigar +from his vest pocket. "What with losin' tools and one thing an' 'nother, +this oil game sure is hell. By the way, how's yore fishin' job comin' +on?" + +"Fine, Dug. We ain't hooked our big fish yet, but we're hopeful." + +Dave was sitting in the shadow. Doble nodded carelessly to him without +recognition. It was characteristic of his audacity that Dug had walked +over impudently to spy out the camp of the enemy. Bob knew why he had +come, and he knew that Bob knew. Yet both ignored the fact that he was +not welcome. + +"I've known fellows angle a right long time for a trout and not catch +him," said Doble, stretching his long legs comfortably. + +"Yes," agreed Bob. "Wish I could hire you to throw a monkey wrench in +that engine over there. Its chuggin' keeps me awake." + +"I'll bet it does. Well, young fellow, you can't hire me or anybody else +to stop it," retorted Doble, an edge to his voice. + +"Well, I just mentioned it," murmured Hart. "I don't aim to rile yore +feelin's. We'll talk of somethin' else.... Hope you enjoyed that reunion +this week with yore old friend, absent far, but dear to memory ever." + +"Referrin' to?" demanded Doble with sharp hostility. + +"Why, Ad Miller, Dug." + +"Is he a friend of mine?" + +"Ain't he?" + +"Not that I ever heard tell of." + +"Glad of that. You won't miss him now he's lit out." + +"Oh, he's lit out, has he?" + +"A li'l bird whispered to me he had." + +"When?" + +"This evenin', I understand." + +"Where'd he go?" + +"He didn't leave any address. Called away on sudden business." + +"Did he mention the business?" + +"Not to me." Bob turned to his friend. "Did he say anything to you about +that, Dave?" + +In the silence one might have heard a watch tick, Doble leaned forward, +his body rigid, danger written large in his burning eyes and clenched +fist. + +"So you're back," he said at last in a low, harsh voice. + +"I'm back." + +"It would 'a' pleased me if they had put a rope round yore neck, Mr. +Convict." + +Dave made no comment. Nobody could have guessed from his stillness how +fierce was the blood pressure at his temples. + +"It's a difference of opinion makes horse-races, Dug," said Bob lightly. + +The big ex-foreman rose snarling. "For half a cent I'd gun you here and +now like you did George." + +Sanders looked at him steadily, his hands hanging loosely by his sides. + +"I wouldn't try that, Dug," warned Hart. "Dave ain't armed, but I am. My +hand's on my six-shooter right this minute. Don't make a mistake." + +The ex-foreman glared at him. Doble was a strong, reckless devil of a +fellow who feared neither God nor man. A primeval savagery burned in +his blood, but like most "bad" men he had that vein of caution in his +make-up which seeks to find its victim at disadvantage. He knew Hart too +well to doubt his word. One cannot ride the range with a man year in, +year out, without knowing whether the iron is in his arteries. + +"Declarin' yoreself in on this, are you?" he demanded ominously, showing +his teeth. + +"I've always been in on it, Dug. Took a hand at the first deal, the day +of the race. If you're lookin' for trouble with Dave, you'll find it goes +double." + +"Not able to play his own hand, eh?" + +"Not when you've got a six-shooter and he hasn't. Not after he has just +been wounded by another gunman he cleaned up with his bare hands. You and +yore friends are lookin' for things too easy." + +"Easy, hell! I'll fight you and him both, with or without guns. Any time. +Any place." + +Doble backed away till his figure grew vague in the darkness. Came the +crack of a revolver. A bullet tore a splinter from the wall of the shack +in front of which Dave was standing. A jeering laugh floated to the two +men, carried on the light night breeze. + +Bob whipped out his revolver, but he did not fire. He and his friend +slipped quietly to the far end of the house and found shelter round the +corner. + +"Ain't that like Dug, the damned double-crosser?" whispered Bob. "I +reckon he didn't try awful hard to hit you. Just sent his compliments +kinda casual to show good-will." + +"I reckon he didn't try very hard to miss me either," said Dave dryly. +"The bullet came within a foot of my head." + +"He's one bad citizen, if you ask me," admitted Hart, without reluctance. +"Know how he came to break with the old man? He had the nerve to start +beauin' Miss Joyce. She wouldn't have it a minute. He stayed right with +it--tried to ride over her. Crawford took a hand and kicked him out. +Since then Dug has been one bitter enemy of the old man." + +"Then Crawford had better look out. If Doble isn't a killer, I've never +met one." + +"I've got a fool notion that he ain't aimin' to kill him; that maybe he +wants to help Steelman bust him so as he can turn the screws on him and +get Miss Joyce. Dug must 'a' been makin' money fast in Brad's company. +He's on the inside." + +Dave made no comment. + +"I expect you was some surprised when I told Dug who was roostin' on the +step so clost to him," Hart went on. "Well, I had a reason. He was due to +find it out anyhow in about a minute, so I thought I'd let him know we +wasn't tryin' to keep him from knowin' who his neighbor was; also that I +was good and ready for him if he got red-haided like Miller done." + +"I understood, Bob," said his friend quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +AN INVOLUNTARY BATH + + +Jackpot Number Three hooked its tools the second day after Sanders's +visit to that location. A few hours later its engine was thumping merrily +and the cable rising and falling monotonously in the casing. On the +afternoon of the third day Bob Hart rode up to the wildcat well where +Dave was building a sump hole with a gang of Mexicans. + +He drew Sanders to one side. "Trouble to-night, Dave, looks like. At +Jackpot Number Three. We're in a layer of soft shale just above the +oil-bearin' sand. Soon we'll know where we're at. Word has reached me +that Doble means to rush the night tower and wreck the engine." + +"You'll stand his crowd off?" + +"You're whistlin'." + +"Sure your information is right?" + +"It's c'rect." Bob added, after a momentary hesitation: "We got a spy in +his camp." + +Sanders did not ask whether the affair was to be a pitched battle. He +waited, sure that Bob would tell him when he was ready. That young man +came to the subject indirectly. + +"How's yore shoulder, Dave?" + +"Doesn't trouble me any unless something is slammed against it." + +"Interfere with you usin' a six-shooter?" + +"No." + +"Like to take a ride with me over to the Jackpot?" + +"Yes." + +"Good enough. I want you to look the ground over with me. Looks now as if +it would come to fireworks. But we don't want any Fourth-of-July stuff if +we can help it. Can we? That's the point." + +At the Jackpot the friends walked over the ground together. Back of the +location and to the west of it an arroyo ran from a cañon above. + +"Follow it down and it'll take you right into the location where Steelman +is drillin'," explained Bob. "Dug's gonna lead his gang up the arroyo to +the mesquite here, sneak down on us, and take our camp with a rush. At +least, that's what he aims to do. You can't always tell, as the fellow +says." + +"What's up above?" + +"A dam. Steelman owns the ground up there. He's got several acres of +water backed up there for irrigation purposes." + +"Let's go up and look it over." + +Bob showed a mild surprise. "Why, yes, if you want to take some exercise. +This is my busy day, but--" + +Sanders ignored the hint. He led the way up a stiff trail that took them +to the mouth of the cañon. Across the face of this a dam stretched. They +climbed to the top of it. The water rose to within about six feet from +the rim of the curved wall. + +"Some view," commented Bob with a grin, looking across the plains that +spread fanlike from the mouth of the gorge. "But I ain't much interested +in scenery to-day somehow." + +"When were you expectin' to shoot the well, Bob?" + +"Some time to-morrow. Don't know just when. Why?" + +"Got the nitro here yet?" + +"Brought it up this mo'nin' myself." + +"How much?" + +"Twelve quarts." + +"Any dynamite in camp?" + +"Yes. A dozen sticks, maybe." + +"And three gallons of nitro, you say." + +"Yep." + +"That's enough to do the job," Sanders said, as though talking aloud to +himself. + +"Yep. Tha's what we usually use." + +"I'm speaking of another job. Let's get down from here. We might be +seen." + +"They couldn't hit us from the Steelman location. Too far," said Bob. +"And I don't reckon any one would try to do that." + +"No, but they might get to wondering what we're doing up here." + +"I'm wonderin' that myself," drawled Hart. "Most generally when I take a +pasear it's on the back of a bronc. I ain't one of them that believes the +good Lord made human laigs to be walked on, not so long as any broomtails +are left to straddle." + +Screened by the heavy mesquite below, Sanders unfolded his proposed plan +of operations. Bob listened, and as Dave talked there came into Hart's +eyes dancing imps of deviltry. He gave a subdued whoop of delight, +slapped his dusty white hat on his thigh, and vented his enthusiasm in +murmurs of admiring profanity. + +"It may not work out," suggested his friend. "But if your information is +correct and they come up the arroyo--" + +"It's c'rect enough. Lemme ask you a question. If you was attacktin' us, +wouldn't you come that way?" + +"Yes." + +"Sure. It's the logical way. Dug figures to capture our camp without +firin' a shot. And he'd 'a' done it, too, if we hadn't had warnin'." + +Sanders frowned, his mind busy over the plan. "It ought to work, unless +something upsets it," he said. + +"Sure it'll work. You darned old fox, I never did see yore beat. Say, +if we pull this off right, Dug's gonna pretty near be laughed outa the +county." + +"Keep it quiet. Only three of us need to know it. You stay at the well to +keep Doble's gang back if we slip up. I'll give the signal, and the third +man will fire the fuse." + +"Buck Byington will be here pretty soon. I'll get him to set off the +Fourth-of-July celebration. He's a regular clam--won't ever say a word +about this." + +"When you hear her go off, you'd better bring the men down on the jump." + +Byington came up the road half an hour later at a cowpuncher's jog-trot. +He slid from the saddle and came forward chewing tobacco. His impassive, +leathery face expressed no emotion whatever. Carelessly and casually he +shook hands. "How, Dave?" + +"How, Buck?" answered Sanders. + +The old puncher had always liked Dave Sanders. The boy had begun work +on the range as a protégé of his. He had taught him how to read sign and +how to throw a rope. They had ridden out a blizzard together, and the +old-timer had cared for him like a father. The boy had repaid him with +a warm, ingenuous affection, an engaging sweetness of outward respect. +A certain fineness in the eager face had lingered as an inheritance from +his clean youth. No playful pup could have been more friendly. Now Buck +shook hands with a grim-faced man, one a thousand years old in bitter +experience. The eyes let no warmth escape. In the younger man's +consciousness rose the memory of a hundred kindnesses flowing from Buck +to him. Yet he could not let himself go. It was as though the prison +chill had encased his heart in ice which held his impulses fast. + +After dusk had fallen they made their preparations. The three men slipped +away from the bunkhouse into the chaparral. Bob carried a bulging +gunnysack, Dave a lantern, a pick, a drill, and a hammer. None of them +talked till they had reached the entrance to the cañon. + +"We'd better get busy before it's too dark," Bob said. "We picked this +spot, Buck. Suit you?" + +Byington had been a hard-rock Colorado miner in his youth. He examined +the dam and came back to the place chosen. After taking off his coat he +picked up the hammer. "Le's start. The sooner the quicker." + +Dave soaked the gunnysack in water and folded it over the top of the +drill to deaden the sound. Buck wielded the hammer and Bob held the +drill. + +After it grew dark they worked by the light of the lantern. Dave and Bob +relieved Buck at the hammer. They drilled two holes, put in the dynamite +charges, tamped them down, and filled in again the holes. The +nitroglycerine, too, was prepared and set for explosion. + +Hart straightened stiffly and looked at his watch. "Time to move back to +camp, Dave. Business may get brisk soon now. Maybe Dug may get in a hurry +and start things earlier than he intended." + +"Don't miss my signal, Buck. Two shots, one right after another," said +Dave. + +"I'll promise you to send back two shots a heap louder. You sure won't +miss 'em," answered Buck with a grin. + +The younger men left him at the dam and went back down the trail to their +camp. + +"No report yet from the lads watchin' the arroyo. I expect Dug's waitin' +till he thinks we're all asleep except the night tower," whispered the +man who had been left in charge by Hart. + +"Dave, you better relieve the boys at the arroyo," suggested Bob. +"Fireworks soon now, I expect." + +Sanders crept through the heavy chaparral to the liveoaks above the +arroyo, snaking his way among cactus and mesquite over the sand. A +watcher jumped up at his approach. Dave raised his hand and moved it +above his head from right to left. The guard disappeared in the darkness +toward the Jackpot. Presently his companion followed him. Dave was left +alone. + +It seemed to him that the multitudinous small voices of the night had +never been more active. A faint trickle of water came up from the bed of +the stream. He knew this was caused by leakage from the reservoir in the +gulch. A tiny rustle stirred the dry grass close to his hand. His peering +into the thick brush did not avail to tell him what form of animal life +was palpitating there. Far away a mocking-bird throbbed out a note or +two, grew quiet, and again became tunefully clamorous. A night owl +hooted. The sound of a soft footfall rolling a pebble brought him to taut +alertness. Eyes and ears became automatic detectives keyed to finest +service. + +A twig snapped in the arroyo. Indistinctly movements of blurred masses +were visible. The figure of a man detached itself from the gloom and +crept along the sandy wash. A second and a third took shape. The dry +bed became filled with vague motion. Sanders waited no longer. He crawled +back from the lip of the ravine a dozen yards, drew his revolver, and +fired twice. + +His guess had been that the attacking party, startled at the shots, would +hesitate and draw together for a whispered conference. This was exactly +what occurred. + +An explosion tore to shreds the stillness of the night. Before the first +had died away a second one boomed out. Dave heard a shower of falling +rock and concrete. He heard, too, a roar growing every moment in volume. +It swept down the walled gorge like a railroad train making up lost time. + +Sanders stepped forward. The gully, lately a wash of dry sand and baked +adobe, was full of a fury of rushing water. Above the noise of it he +caught the echo of a despairing scream. Swiftly he ran, dodging among the +catclaw and the prickly pear like a half-back carrying the ball through +a broken field. His objective was the place where the arroyo opened to +a draw. At this precise spot Steelman had located his derrick. + +The tower no longer tapered gauntly to the sky. The rush of waters +released from the dam had swept it from its foundation, torn apart the +timbers, and scattered them far and wide. With it had gone the wheel, +dragging from the casing the cable. The string of tools, jerked from +their socket, probably lay at the bottom of the well two thousand feet +down. + +Dave heard a groan. He moved toward the sound. A man lay on a sand +hummock, washed up by the tide. + +"Badly hurt?" asked Dave. + +"I've been drowned intirely, swallowed by a flood and knocked galley-west +for Sunday. I don't know yit am I dead or not. Mither o' Moses, phwat was +it hit us?" + +"The dam must have broke." + +"Was the Mississippi corked up in the dom cañon?" + +Bob bore down upon the scene at the head of the Jackpot contingent. He +gave a whoop at sight of the wrecked derrick and engine. "Kindlin' wood +and junk," was his verdict. "Where's Dug and his gang?" + +Dave relieved the half-drowned man of his revolver. "Here's one. The rest +must be either in the arroyo or out in the draw." + +"Scatter, boys, and find 'em. Look out for them if they're hurt. Collect +their hardware first off." + +The water by this time had subsided. Released from the walls of the +arroyo, it had spread over the desert. The supply in the reservoir was +probably exhausted, for the stream no longer poured down in a torrent. +Instead, it came in jets, weakly and with spent energy. + +Hart called. "Come here and meet an old friend, Dave." + +Sanders made his way, ankle deep in water, to the spot from which that +irrepressibly gay voice had come. He was still carrying the revolver he +had taken from the Irishman. + +"Meet Shorty, Dave. Don't mind his not risin' to shake. He's just been +wrastlin' with a waterspout and he's some wore out." + +The squat puncher glared at his tormentor. "I done bust my laig," he said +at last sullenly. + +He was wet to the skin. His lank, black hair fell in front of his tough, +unshaven face. One hand nursed the lacerated leg. The other was hooked by +the thumb into the band of his trousers. + +"That worries us a heap, Shorty," answered Hart callously. "I'd say you +got it comin' to you." + +The hand hitched in the trouser band moved slightly. Bob, aware too late +of the man's intention, reached for his six-shooter. Something flew past +him straight and hard. + +Shorty threw up his hands with a yelp and collapsed. He had been struck +in the head by a heavy revolver. + +"Some throwin', Dave. Much obliged," said Hart. "We'll disarm this bird +and pack him back to the derrick." They did. Shorty almost wept with rage +and pain and impotent malice. He cursed steadily and fluently. He might +as well have saved his breath, for his captors paid not the least +attention to his spleen. + +Weak as a drowned rat, Doble came limping out of the ravine. He sat down +on a timber, very sick at the stomach from too much water swallowed in +haste. After he had relieved himself, he looked up wanly and recognized +Hart, who was searching him for a hidden six-shooter. + +"Must 'a' lost yore forty-five whilst you was in swimmin', Dug. Was the +water good this evenin'? I'll bet you and yore lads pulled off a lot o' +fancy stunts when the water come down from Lodore or wherever they had it +corralled." Dancing imps of mischief lit the eyes of the ex-cowpuncher. +"Well, I'll bet the boys in town get a great laugh at yore comedy stuff. +You ce'tainly did a good turn. Oh, you've sure earned yore laugh." + +If hatred could have killed with a look Bob would have been a dead man. +"You blew up the dam," charged Doble. + +"Me! Why, it ain't my dam. Didn't Brad give you orders to open the +sluices to make you a swimmin' hole?" + +The searchers began to straggle in, bringing with them a sadly drenched +and battered lot of gunmen. Not one but looked as though he had been +through the wars. An inventory of wounds showed a sprained ankle, a +broken shoulder blade, a cut head, and various other minor wounds. Nearly +every member of Doble's army was exceedingly nauseated. The men sat down +or leaned up against the wreckage of the plant and drooped wretchedly. +There was not an ounce of fight left in any of them. + +"They must 'a' blew the dam up. Them shots we heard!" one ventured +without spirit. + +"Who blew it up?" demanded one of the Jackpot men belligerently. "If you +say we did, you're a liar." + +He was speaking the truth so far as he knew. The man who had been through +the waters did not take up the challenge. Officers in the army say that +men will not fight on an empty stomach, and his was very empty. + +"I'll remember this, Hart," Doble said, and his face was a thing ill to +look upon. The lips were drawn back so that his big teeth were bared like +tusks. The eyes were yellow with malignity. + +"Y'betcha! The boys'll look after that, Dug," retorted Bob lightly. +"Every time you hook yore heel over the bar rail at the Gusher, you'll +know they're laughin' at you up their sleeves. Sure, you'll remember +it." + +"Some day I'll make yore whole damned outfit sorry for this," the big +hook-nosed man threatened blackly. "No livin' man can laugh at me and get +away with it." + +"I'm laughin' at you, Dug. We all are. Wish you could see yoreself as we +see you. A little water takes a lot o' tuck outa some men who are feelin' +real biggity." + +Byington, at this moment, sauntered into the assembly. He looked around +in simulated surprise. "Must be bath night over at you-all's camp, Dug. +You look kinda drookid yore own self, as you might say." + +Doble swore savagely. He pointed with a shaking finger at Sanders, who +was standing silently in the background. "Tha's the man who's responsible +for this. Think I don't know? That jail bird! That convict! That killer!" +His voice trembled with fury. "You'd never a-thought of it in a thousand +years, Hart. Nor you, Buck, you old fathead. Wait. Tha's what I say. +Wait. It'll be me or him one day. Soon, too." + +The paroled man said nothing, but no words could have been more effective +than the silence of this lean, powerful man with the close-clamped jaw +whose hard eyes watched his enemy so steadily. He gave out an impression +of great vitality and reserve force. Even these hired thugs, dull and +unimaginative though they were, understood that he was dangerous beyond +most fighting men. A laugh snapped the tension. The Jackpot engineer +pointed to a figure emerging from the arroyo. The man who came dejectedly +into view was large and fat and dripping. He was weeping curses and +trying to pick cactus burrs from his anatomy. Dismal groans punctuated +his profanity. + +"It stranded me right on top of a big prickly pear," he complained. "I +like never to 'a' got off, and a million spines are stickin' into me." + +Bob whooped. "Look who's among us. If it ain't our old friend Ad Miller, +the human pincushion. Seein' as he drapped in, we'll collect him right +now and find out if the sheriff ain't lookin' for him to take a trip on +the choo-choo cars." + +The fat convict looked to Doble in vain for help. His friend was staring +at the ground sourly in a huge disgust at life and all that it contained. +Miller limped painfully to the Jackpot in front of Hart. Two days later +he took the train back to the penitentiary. Emerson Crawford made it a +point to see to that. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE LITTLE MOTHER FREES HER MIND + + +If some one had made Emerson Crawford a present of a carload of Herefords +he could not have been more pleased than he was at the result of the +Jackpot crew's night adventure with the Steelman forces. The news came +to him at an opportune moment, for he had just been served notice by the +president of the Malapi First National Bank that Crawford must prepare to +meet at once a call note for $10,000. A few hours earlier in the day the +cattleman had heard it rumored that Steelman had just bought a +controlling interest in the bank. He did not need a lawyer to tell him +that the second fact was responsible for the first. In fact the banker, +personally friendly to Crawford, had as good as told him so. + +Bob rode in with the story of the fracas in time to cheer the drooping +spirits of his employer. Emerson walked up and down the parlor waving his +cigar while Joyce laughed at him. + +"Dawggone my skin, if that don't beat my time! I'm settin' aside five +thousand shares in the Jackpot for Dave Sanders right now. Smartest trick +ever I did see." The justice of the Jackpot's vengeance on its rival and +the completeness of it came home to him as he strode the carpet. "He not +only saves my property without havin' to fight for it--and that was a +blamed good play itself, for I don't want you boys shootin' up anybody +even in self-defense--but he disarms Brad's plug-uglies, humiliates +them, makes them plumb sick of the job, and at the same time wipes out +Steelman's location lock, stock, and barrel. I'll make that ten thousand +shares, by gum! That boy's sure some stemwinder." + +"He uses his haid," admitted Bob admiringly. + +"I'd give my best pup to have been there," said the cattleman +regretfully. + +"It was some show," drawled the younger man. "Drowned rats was what they +reminded me of. Couldn't get a rise out of any of 'em except Dug. That +man's dangerous, if you ask me. He's crazy mad at all of us, but most +at Dave." + +"Will he hurt him?" asked Joyce quickly. + +"Can't tell. He'll try. That's a cinch." + +The dark brown eyes of the girl brooded. "That's not fair. We can't let +him run into more danger for us, Dad. He's had enough trouble already. We +must do something. Can't you send him to the Spring Valley Ranch?" + +"Meanin' Dug Doble?" asked Bob. + +She flashed a look of half-smiling, half-tender reproach at him. "You +know who I mean, Bob. And I'm not going to have him put in danger on our +account," she added with naïve dogmatism. + +"Joy's right. She's sure right," admitted Crawford. + +"Maybeso." Hart fell into his humorous drawl. "How do you aim to get +him to Spring Valley? You goin' to have him hawg-tied and shipped as +freight?" + +"I'll talk to him. I'll tell him he must go." Her resolute little face +was aglow and eager. "It's time Malapi was civilized. We mustn't give +these bad men provocation. It's better to avoid them." + +"Yes," admitted Bob dryly. "Well, you tell all that to Dave. Maybe he's +the kind o' lad that will pack up and light out because he's afraid of +Dug Doble and his outfit. Then again maybe he ain't." + +Crawford shook his head. He was a game man himself. He would go through +when the call came, and he knew quite well that Sanders would do the +same. Nor would any specious plea sidetrack him. At the same time there +was substantial justice in the contention of his daughter. Dave had no +business getting mixed up in this row. The fact that he was an ex-convict +would be in itself a damning thing in case the courts ever had to pass +upon the feud's results. The conviction on the records against him would +make a second conviction very much easier. + +"You're right, Bob. Dave won't let Dug's crowd run him out. But you keep +an eye on him. Don't let him go out alone nights. See he packs a gun." + +"Packs a gun!" Joyce was sitting in a rocking-chair under the glow of the +lamp. She was darning one of Keith's stockings, and to the young man +watching her--so wholly winsome girl, so much tender but business-like +little mother--she was the last word in the desirability of woman. +"That's the very way to find trouble, Dad. He's been doing his best to +keep out of it. He can't, if he stays here. So he must go away, that's +all there is to it." + +Her father laughed. "Ain't it scandalous the way she bosses us all +around, Bob?" + +The face of the girl sparkled to a humorous challenge. "Well, some one +has got to boss you-all boys, Dad. If you'd do as I say you wouldn't have +any trouble with that old Steelman or his gunmen." + +"We wouldn't have any oil wells either, would we, honey?" + +"They're not worth having if you and Dave Sanders and Bob have to live in +danger all the time," she flashed. + +"Glad you look at it that way, Joy," Emerson retorted with a rueful +smile. "Fact is, we ain't goin' to have any more oil wells than a +jackrabbit pretty soon. I'm at the end of my rope right now. The First +National promised me another loan on the Arizona ranch, but Brad has got +a-holt of it and he's called in my last loan. I'm not quittin'. I'll put +up a fight yet, but unless things break for me I'm about done." + +"Oh, Dad!" Her impulse of sympathy carried Joyce straight to him. Soft, +rounded arms went round his neck with impassioned tenderness. "I didn't +dream it was as bad as that. You've been worrying all this time and you +never let me know." + +He stroked her hair fondly. "You're the blamedest little mother ever I +did see--always was. Now don't you fret. It'll work out somehow. Things +do." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE HOLD-UP + + +To Sanders, working on afternoon tower at Jackpot Number Three, the lean, +tanned driller in charge of operations was wise with an uncanny knowledge +the newcomer could not fathom. For eight hours at a stretch he stood on +the platform and watched a greasy cable go slipping into the earth. Every +quiver of it, every motion of the big walking-beam, every kick of the +engine, told him what was taking place down that narrow pipe two thousand +feet below the surface. He knew when the tools were in clay and had +become gummed up. He could tell just when the drill had cut into hard +rock at an acute angle and was running out of the perpendicular to follow +the softer stratum. His judgment appeared infallible as to whether he +ought to send down a reamer to straighten the kink. All Dave knew was +that a string of tools far underground was jerking up and down +monotonously. + +This spelt romance to Jed Burns, superintendent of operations, though he +would never have admitted it. He was a bachelor; always would be one. +Hard-working, hard-drinking, at odd times a plunging gambler, he lived +for nothing but oil and the atmosphere of oil fields. From one boom +to another he drifted, as inevitably as the gamblers, grafters, and +organizers of "fake" companies. Several times he had made fortunes, but +it was impossible for him to stay rich. He was always ready to back a +drilling proposition that looked promising, and no independent speculator +can continue to wildcat without going broke. + +He was sifting sand through his fingers when Dave came on tower +the day after the flood. To Bob Hart, present as Crawford's personal +representative, he expressed an opinion. + +"Right soon now or never. Sand tastes, feels, looks, and smells like oil. +But you can't ever be sure. An oil prospect is like a woman. She will or +she won't, you never can tell which. Then, if she does, she's liable to +change her mind." + +Dave sniffed the pleasing, pungent odor of the crude oil sands. His +friend had told him that Crawford's fate hung in the balance. Unless oil +flowed very soon in paying quantities he was a ruined man. The control of +the Jackpot properties would probably pass into the hands of Steelman. +The cattleman would even lose the ranches which had been the substantial +basis of his earlier prosperity. + +Everybody working on the Jackpot felt the excitement as the drill began +to sink into the oil-bearing sands. Most of the men owned stock in the +company. Moreover, they were getting a bonus for their services and had +been promised an extra one if Number Three struck oil in paying +quantities before Steelman's crew did. Even to an outsider there is a +fascination in an oil well. It is as absorbing to the drillers as a +girl's mind is to her hopeful lover. Dave found it impossible to escape +the contagion of this. Moreover, he had ten thousand shares in the +Jackpot, stock turned over to him out of the treasury supply by the board +of directors in recognition of services which they did not care to +specify in the resolution which authorized the transfer. At first he had +refused to accept this, but Bob Hart had put the matter to him in such a +light that he changed his mind. + +"The oil business pays big for expert advice, no matter whether it's +legal or technical. What you did was worth fifty times what the board +voted you. If we make a big strike you've saved the company. If we don't +the stock's not worth a plugged nickel anyhow. You've earned what we +voted you. Hang on to it, Dave." + +Dave had thanked the board and put the stock in his pocket. Now he felt +himself drawn into the drama represented by the thumping engine which +continued day and night. + +After his shift was over, he rode to town with Bob behind his team of +wild broncos. + +"Got to look for an engineer for the night tower," Hart explained as he +drew up in front of the Gusher Saloon. "Come in with me. It's some +gambling-hell, if you ask me." + +The place hummed with the turbulent life that drifts to every wild +frontier on the boom. Faro dealers from the Klondike, poker dealers from +Nome, roulette croupiers from Leadville, were all here to reap the rich +harvest to be made from investors, field workers, and operators. Smooth +grafters with stock in worthless companies for sale circulated in and out +with blue-prints and whispered inside information. The men who were +ranged in front of the bar, behind which half a dozen attendants in white +aprons busily waited on their wants, usually talked oil and nothing but +oil. To-day they had another theme. The same subject engrossed the groups +scattered here and there throughout the large hall. + +In the rear of the room were the faro layouts, the roulette wheels, and +the poker players. Around each of these the shifting crowd surged. +Mexicans, Chinese, and even Indians brushed shoulders with white men of +many sorts and conditions. The white-faced professional gambler was in +evidence, winning the money of big brown men in miner's boots and +corduroys. The betting was wild and extravagant, for the spirit of the +speculator had carried away the cool judgment of most of these men. They +had seen a barber become a millionaire in a day because the company in +which he had plunged had struck a gusher. They had seen the same man +borrow five dollars three months later to carry him over until he got a +job. Riches were pouring out of the ground for the gambler who would take +a chance. Thrift was a much-discredited virtue in Malapi. The one +unforgivable vice was to be "a piker." + +Bob found his man at a faro table. While the cards were being shuffled, +he engaged him to come out next evening to the Jackpot properties. As +soon as the dealer began to slide the cards out of the case the attention +of the engineer went back to his bets. + +While Dave was standing close to the wall, ready to leave as soon as Bob +returned to him, he caught sight of an old acquaintance. Steve Russell +was playing stud poker at a table a few feet from him. The cowpuncher +looked up and waved his hand. + +"See you in a minute, Dave," he called, and as soon as the pot had been +won he said to the man shuffling the cards, "Deal me out this hand." + +He rose, stepped across to Sanders, and shook hands with a strong grip. +"You darned old son-of-a-gun! I'm sure glad to see you. Heard you was +back. Say, you've ce'tainly been goin' some. Suits me. I never did like +either Dug or Miller a whole lot. Dug's one sure-enough bad man and +Miller's a tinhorn would-be. What you did to both of 'em was a-plenty. +But keep yore eye peeled, old-timer. Miller's where he belongs again, +but Dug's still on the range, and you can bet he's seein' red these +days. He'll gun you if he gets half a chance." + +"Yes," said Dave evenly. + +"You don't figure to let yoreself get caught again without a +six-shooter." Steve put the statement with the rising inflection. + +"No." + +"Tha's right. Don't let him get the drop on you. He's sudden death with +a gun." + +Bob joined them. After a moment's conversation Russell drew them to a +corner of the room that for the moment was almost deserted. + +"Say, you heard the news, Bob?" + +"I can tell you that better after I know what it is," returned Hart with +a grin. + +"The stage was held up at Cottonwood Bend and robbed of seventeen +thousand dollars. The driver was killed." + +"When?" + +"This mo'nin'. They tried to keep it quiet, but it leaked out." + +"Whose money was it?" + +"Brad Steelman's pay roll and a shipment of gold for the bank." + +"Any idea who did it?" + +Steve showed embarrassment. "Why, no, _I_ ain't, if that's what you +mean." + +"Well, anybody else?" + +"Tha's what I wanta tell you. Two men were in the job. They're whisperin' +that Em Crawford was one." + +"Crawford! Some of Steelman's fine work in that rumor, I'll bet. He's +crazy if he thinks he can get away with that. Tha's plumb foolish talk. +What evidence does he claim?" demanded Hart. + +"Em deposited ten thousand with the First National to pay off a note he +owed the bank. Rode into town right straight to the bank two hours after +the stage got in. Then, too, seems one of the hold-ups called the other +one Crawford." + +"A plant," said Dave promptly. + +"Looks like." Bob's voice was rich with sarcasm. "I don't reckon the +other one rose up on his hind laigs and said, 'I'm Bob Hart,' did he?" + +"They claim the second man was Dave here." + +"Hmp! What time d'you say this hold-up took place?" + +"Must 'a' been about eleven." + +"Lets Dave out. He was fifteen miles away, and we can prove it by at +least six witnesses." + +"Good. I reckon Em can put in an alibi too." + +"I'll bet he can." Hart promised this with conviction. + +"Trouble is they say they've got witnesses to show Em was travelin' +toward the Bend half an hour before the hold-up. Art Johnson and Clem +Purdy met him while they was on their way to town." + +"Was Crawford alone?" + +"He was then. Yep." + +"Any one might'a' been there. You might. I might. That don't prove a +thing." + +"Hell, I know Em Crawford's not mixed up in any hold-up, let alone a +damned cowardly murder. You don't need to tell _me_ that. Point is that +evidence is pilin' up. Where did Em get the ten thousand to pay the bank? +Two days ago he was tryin' to increase the loan the First National had +made him." + +Dave spoke. "I don't know where he got it, but unless he's a born +fool--and nobody ever claimed that of Crawford--he wouldn't take the +money straight to the bank after he had held up the stage and killed +the driver. That's a strong point in his favor." + +"If he can show where he got the ten thousand," amended Russell. "And of +course he can." + +"And where he spent that two hours after the hold-up before he came to +town. That'll have to be explained too," said Bob. + +"Oh, Em he'll be able to explain that all right," decided Steve +cheerfully. + +"Where is Crawford now?" asked Dave. "He hasn't been arrested, has he?" + +"Not yet. But he's bein' watched. Soon as he showed up at the bank the +sheriff asked to look at his six-shooter. Two cartridges had been fired. +One of the passengers on the stage told me two shots was fired from a +six-gun by the boss hold-up. The second one killed old Tim Harrigan." + +"Did they accuse Crawford of the killing?" + +"Not directly. He was asked to explain. I ain't heard what his story +was." + +"We'd better go to his house and talk with him," suggested Hart. "Maybe +he can give as good an alibi as you, Dave." + +"You and I will go straight there," decided Sanders. "Steve, get three +saddle horses. We'll ride out to the Bend and see what we can learn on +the ground." + +"I'll cash my chips, get the broncs, and meet you lads at Crawford's," +said Russell promptly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +NUMBER THREE COMES IN + + +Joyce opened the door to the knock of the young men. At sight of them her +face lit. + +"Oh, I'm so glad you've come!" she cried, tears in her voice. She caught +her hands together in a convulsive little gesture. "Isn't it dreadful? +I've been afraid all the time that something awful would happen--and +now it has." + +"Don't you worry, Miss Joyce," Bob told her cheerfully. "We ain't gonna +let anything happen to yore paw. We aim to get busy right away and run +this thing down. Looks like a frame-up. If it is, you betcha we'll get +at the truth." + +"Will you? Can you?" She turned to Dave in appeal, eyes starlike in a +face that was a white and shining oval in the semi-darkness. + +"We'll try," he said simply. + +Something in the way he said it, in the quiet reticence of his promise, +sent courage flowing to her heart. She had called on him once before, and +he had answered splendidly and recklessly. + +"Where's Mr. Crawford?" asked Bob. + +"He's in the sitting-room. Come right in." + +Her father was sitting in a big chair, one leg thrown carelessly over the +arm. He was smoking a cigar composedly. + +"Come in, boys," he called. "Reckon you've heard that I'm a stage rustler +and a murderer." + +Joyce cried out at this, the wide, mobile mouth trembling. + +"Just now. At the Gusher," said Bob. "They didn't arrest you?" + +"Not yet. They're watchin' the house. Sit down, and I'll tell it to you." + +He had gone out to see a homesteader about doing some work for him. On +the way he had met Johnson and Purdy near the Bend, just before he had +turned up a draw leading to the place in the hills owned by the man whom +he wanted to see. Two hours had been spent riding to the little valley +where the nester had built his corrals and his log house, and when +Crawford arrived neither he nor his wife was at home. He returned to the +road, without having met a soul since he had left it, and from there +jogged on back to town. On the way he had fired twice at a rattlesnake. + +"You never reached the Bend, then, at all," said Dave. + +"No, but I cayn't prove I didn't." The old cattleman looked at the end of +his cigar thoughtfully. "Nor I cayn't prove I went out to Dick Grein's +place in that three-four hours not accounted for." + +"Anyhow, you can show where you got the ten thousand dollars you paid the +bank," said Bob hopefully. + +A moment of silence; then Crawford spoke. "No, son, I cayn't tell that +either." + +Faint and breathless with suspense, Joyce looked at her father with +dilated eyes. "Why not?" + +"Because the money was loaned me on those conditions." + +"But--but--don't you see, Dad?--if you don't tell that--" + +"They'll think I'm guilty. Well, I reckon they'll have to think it, Joy." +The steady gray eyes looked straight into the brown ones of the girl. +"I've been in this county boy and man for 'most fifty years. Any one +that's willin' to think me a cold-blooded murderer at this date, why, +he's welcome to hold any opinion he pleases. I don't give a damn what he +thinks." + +"But we've got to prove--" + +"No, we haven't. They've got to do the proving. The law holds me innocent +till I'm found guilty." + +"But you don't aim to keep still and let a lot of miscreants blacken yore +good name!" suggested Hart. + +"You bet I don't, Bob. But I reckon I'll not break my word to a friend +either, especially under the circumstances this money was loaned." + +"He'll release you when he understands," cried Joyce. + +"Don't bank on that, honey," Crawford said slowly. + +"You ain't to mention this. I'm tellin' you three private. He cayn't come +out and tell that he let me have the money. Understand? You don't any of +you know a thing about how I come by that ten thousand. I've refused to +answer questions about that money. That's my business." + +"Oh, but, Dad, you can't do that. You'll have to give an explanation. +You'll have to--" + +"The best explanation I can give, Joy, is to find out who held up the +stage and killed Tim Harrigan. It's the only one that will satisfy me. +It's the only one that will satisfy my friends." + +"That's true," said Sanders. + +"Steve Russell is bringin' hawsses," said Bob. "We'll ride out to the +Bend to-night and be ready for business there at the first streak of +light. Must be some trail left by the hold-ups." + +Crawford shook his head. "Probably not. Applegate had a posse out there +right away. You know Applegate. He'd blunder if he had a chance. His boys +have milled all over the place and destroyed any trail that was left." + +"We'll go out anyhow--Dave and Steve and I. Won't do any harm. We're +liable to discover something, don't you reckon?" + +"Maybeso. Who's that knockin' on the door, Joy?" + +Some one was rapping on the front door imperatively. The girl opened it, +to let into the hall a man in greasy overalls. + +"Where's Mr. Crawford?" he demanded excitedly. + +"Here. In the sitting-room. What's wrong?" + +"Wrong! Not a thing!" He talked as he followed Joyce to the door of the +room. "Except that Number Three's come in the biggest gusher ever I see. +She's knocked the whole superstructure galley-west an' she's rip-r'arin' +to beat the Dutch." + +Emerson Crawford leaped to his feet, for once visibly excited. "What?" he +demanded. "Wha's that?" + +"Jus' like I say. The oil's a-spoutin' up a hundred feet like a fan. +Before mornin' the sump holes will be full and she'll be runnin' all over +the prairie." + +"Burns sent you?" + +"Yep. Says for you to get men and teams and scrapers and gunnysacks and +heavy timbers out there right away. Many as you can send." + +Crawford turned to Bob, his face aglow. "Yore job, Bob. Spread the news. +Rustle up everybody you can get. Arrange with the railroad grade +contractor to let us have all his men, teams, and scrapers till we get +her hogtied and harnessed. Big wages and we'll feed the whole outfit +free. Hire anybody you can find. Buy a coupla hundred shovels and send +'em out to Number Three. Get Robinson to move his tent-restaurant out +there." + +Hart nodded. "What about this job at the Bend?" he asked in a low voice. + +"Dave and I'll attend to that. You hump on the Jackpot job. Sons, we're +rich, all three of us. Point is to keep from losin' that crude on the +prairie. Keep three shifts goin' till she's under control." + +"We can't do anything at the Bend till morning," said Dave. "We'd better +put the night in helping Bob." + +"Sure. We've got to get all Malapi busy. A dozen business men have got to +come down and open up their stores so's we can get supplies," agreed +Emerson. + +Joyce, her face flushed and eager, broke in. "Ring the fire bell. That's +the quickest way." + +"Sure enough. You got a haid on yore shoulders. Dave, you attend to that. +Bob, hit the dust for the big saloons and gather men. I'll see O'Connor +about the railroad outfit; then I'll come down to the fire-house and talk +to the crowd. We'll wake this old town up to-night, sons." + +"What about me?" asked the messenger. + +"You go back and tell Jed to hold the fort till Hart and his material +arrives." + +Outside, they met Russell riding down the road, two saddled horses +following. With a word of explanation they helped themselves to his +mounts while he stared after them in surprise. + +"I'll be dawggoned if they-all ain't three gents in a hurry," he murmured +to the breezes of the night. "Well, seein' as I been held up, I reckon +I'll have to walk back while the hawss-thieves ride." + +Five minutes later the fire-bell clanged out its call to Malapi. From +roadside tent and gambling-hall, from houses and camp-fires, men and +women poured into the streets. For Malapi was a shell-town, tightly +packed and inflammable, likely to go up in smoke whenever a fire should +get beyond control of the volunteer company. Almost in less time than it +takes to tell it, the square was packed with hundreds of lightly clad +people and other hundreds just emerging from the night life of the place. + +The clangor of the bell died away, but the firemen did not run out the +hose and bucket cart. The man tugging the rope had told them why he was +summoning the citizens. + +"Some one's got to go out and explain to the crowd," said the fire chief +to Dave. "If you know about this strike you'll have to tell the boys." + +"Crawford said he'd talk," answered Sanders. + +"He ain't here. It's up to you. Go ahead. Just tell 'em why you rang the +bell." + +Dave found himself pushed forward to the steps of the court-house a few +yards away. He had never before attempted to speak in public, and he had +a queer, dry tightening of the throat. But as soon as he began to talk +the words he wanted came easily enough. + +"Jackpot Number Three has come in a big gusher," he said, lifting his +voice so that it would carry to the edge of the crowd. + +Hundreds of men in the crowd owned stock in the Jackpot properties. At +Dave's words a roar went up into the night. Men shouted, danced, or +merely smiled, according to their temperament. Presently the thirst +for news dominated the enthusiasm. Gradually the uproar was stilled. + +Again Dave's voice rang out clear as the bell he had been tolling. "The +report is that it's one of the biggest strikes ever known in the State. +The derrick has been knocked to pieces and the oil's shooting into the +air a hundred feet." + +A second great shout drowned his words. This was an oil crowd. It dreamed +oil, talked oil, thought oil, prayed for oil. A stranger in the town was +likely to feel at first that the place was oil mad. What else can be said +of a town with derricks built through its front porches and even the +graveyard leased to a drilling company? + +"The sump holes are filling," went on Sanders. "Soon the oil will the +running to waste on the prairie. We need men, teams, tools, wagons, +hundreds of slickers, tents, beds, grub. The wages will be one-fifty a +day more than the run of wages in the camp until the emergency has been +met, and Emerson Crawford will board all the volunteers who come out to +dig." + +The speaker was lost again, this time in a buzz of voices of excited men. +But out of the hubbub Dave's shout became heard. + +"All owners of teams and tools, all dealers in hardware and groceries, +are asked to step to the right-hand side of the crowd for a talk with Mr. +Crawford. Men willing to work till the gusher is under control, please +meet Bob Hart in front of the fire-house. I'll see any cooks and +restaurant-men alive to a chance to make money fast. Right here at the +steps." + +"Good medicine, son," boomed Emerson Crawford, slapping him on the +shoulder. "Didn't know you was an orator, but you sure got this crowd +goin'. Bob here yet?" + +"Yes. I saw him a minute ago in the crowd. Sorry I had to make promises +for you, but the fire chief wouldn't let me keep the crowd waiting. Some +one had to talk." + +"Suits me. I'll run you for Congress one o' these days." Then, "I'll send +the grocery-men over to you. Tell them to get the grub out to-night. If +the restaurant-men don't buy it I'll run my own chuck wagon outfit. See +you later, Dave." + +For the next twenty-four hours there was no night in Malapi. Streets were +filled with shoutings, hurried footfalls, the creaking of wagons, and the +thud of galloping horses. Stores were lit up and filled with buyers. For +once the Gusher and the Oil Pool and other resorts held small attraction +for the crowds. The town was moving out to see the big new discovery that +was to revolutionize its fortunes with the opening of a new and +tremendously rich field. Every ancient rig available was pressed into +service to haul men or supplies out to the Jackpot location. Scarcely a +minute passed, after the time that the first team took the road, without +a loaded wagon, packed to the sideboards, moving along the dusty road +into the darkness of the desert. + +Three travelers on horseback rode in the opposite direction. Their +destination was Cottonwood Bend. Two of them were Emerson Crawford and +David Sanders. The third was an oil prospector who had been a passenger +on the stage when it was robbed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE GUSHER + + +Jackpot number three had come in with a roar that shook the earth for +half a mile. Deep below the surface there was a hiss and a crackle, the +shock of rending strata giving way to the pressure of the oil pool. From +long experience as a driller, Jed Burns knew what was coming. He swept +his crew back from the platform, and none too soon to escape disaster. +They were still flying across the prairie when the crown box catapulted +into the sky and the whole drilling superstructure toppled over. Rocks, +clay, and sand were hurled into the air, to come down in a shower that +bombarded everything within a radius of several hundred yards. + +The landscape next moment was drenched in black petroleum. The fine +particles of it filled the air, sprayed the cactus and the greasewood. +Rivulets of the viscid stuff began to gather in depressions and to flow +in gathering volume, as tributaries joined the stream, into the sump +holes prepared for it. The pungent odor of crude oil, as well as the +touch and the taste of it, penetrated the atmosphere. + +Burns counted noses and discovered that none of his crew had been injured +by falling rocks or beams. He knew that his men could not possibly cope +with this geyser on a spree. It was a big strike, the biggest in the +history of the district, and to control the flow of the gusher would +necessitate tremendous efforts on a wholesale plan. + +One of his men he sent in to Malapi on horseback with a hurry-up call to +Emerson Crawford, president of the company, for tools, machinery, men, +and teams. The others he put to salvaging the engine and accessories +and to throwing up an earth dike around the sump hole as a barrier +against the escaping crude. All through the night he fought impotently +against this giant that had burst loose from its prison two thousand feet +below the surface of the earth. + +With the first faint streaks of day men came galloping across the desert +to the Jackpot. They came at first on horseback, singly, and later by +twos and threes. A buckboard appeared on the horizon, the driver leaning +forward as he urged on his team. + +"Hart," decided the driller, "and comin' hell-for-leather." + +Other teams followed, buggies, surreys, light wagons, farm wagons, and +at last heavily laden lumber wagons. Business in Malapi was "shot to +pieces," as one merchant expressed it. Everybody who could possibly get +away was out to see the big gusher. + +There was an immediate stampede to make locations in the territory +adjacent. The wildcatter flourished. Companies were formed in ten minutes +and the stock subscribed for in half an hour. From the bootblack at +the hotel to the banker, everybody wanted stock in every company drilling +within a reasonable distance of Jackpot Number Three. Many legitimate +incorporations appeared on the books of the Secretary of State, and along +with these were scores of frauds intended only to gull the small investor +and separate him from his money. Saloons and gambling-houses, which did +business with such childlike candor and stridency, became offices for +the sale and exchange of stock. The boom at Malapi got its second wind. +Workmen, investors, capitalists, and crooks poured in to take advantage +of the inflation brought about by the new strike in a hitherto unknown +field. For the fame of Jackpot Number Three had spread wide. The +production guesses ranged all the way from ten to fifty thousand +barrels a day, most of which was still going to waste on the desert. + +For Burns and Hart had not yet gained control over the flow, though an +army of men in overalls and slickers fought the gusher night and day. The +flow never ceased for a moment. The well steadily spouted a stream of +black liquid into the air from the subterranean chamber into which the +underground lake poured. + +The attack had two objectives. The first was to check the outrush of oil. +The second was to save the wealth emerging from the mouth of the well and +streaming over the lip of the reservoir to the sandy desert. + +A crew of men, divided into three shifts, worked with pick, shovel, +and scraper to dig a second and a third sump hole. The dirt from the +excavation was dumped at the edge of the working to build a dam for the +fluid. Sacks filled with wet sand reinforced this dirt. + +Meanwhile the oil boiled up in the lake and flowed over its edges in +streams. As soon as the second reservoir was ready the tarry stuff was +siphoned into it from the original sump hole. By the time this was full a +third pool was finished, and into it the overflow was diverted. But in +spite of the great effort made to save the product of the gusher, the +sands absorbed many thousands of dollars' worth of petroleum. + +This end of the work was under the direction of Bob Hart. For ten days he +did not take off his clothes. When he slept it was in cat naps, an hour +snatched now and again from the fight with the rising tide of wealth +that threatened to engulf its owners. He was unshaven, unbathed, his +clothes slimy with tar and grease. He ate on the job--coffee, beans, +bacon, cornbread, whatever the cooks' flunkies brought him--and did not +know what he was eating. Gaunt and dominating, with crisp decision and +yet unfailing good-humor, he bossed the gangs under him and led them +into the fight, holding them at it till flesh and blood revolted with +weariness. Of such stuff is the true outdoor Westerner made. He may drop +in his tracks from exhaustion after the emergency has been met, but so +long as the call for action lasts he will stick to the finish. + +At the other end Jed Burns commanded. One after another he tried all the +devices he had known to succeed in capping or checking other gushers. The +flow was so continuous and powerful that none of these were effective. +Some wells flow in jets. They hurl out oil, die down like a geyser, and +presently have another hemorrhage. Jackpot Number Three did not pulse as +a cut artery does. Its output was steady as the flow of water in a pipe. +The heavy timbers with which he tried to stop up the outlet were hurled +aside like straws. He could not check the flow long enough to get +control. + +On the evening of the tenth day Burns put in the cork. He made elaborate +preparations in advance and assigned his force to the posts where they +were to work. A string of eight-inch pipe sixty feet long was slid +forward and derricked over the stream. Above this a large number of steel +rails, borrowed from the incoming road, were lashed to the pipe to +prevent it from snapping. The pipe had been fitted with valves of various +sizes. After it had been fastened to the well's casing, these were +gradually reduced to check the flow without causing a blowout in the pipe +line. + +Six hours later a metropolitan newspaper carried the headline: + +BIG GUSHER HARNESSED; +AFTER WILD RAMPAGE + +Jackpot No. 3 at Malapi Tamed +Long Battle Ended + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +SHORTY + + +It was a surprise to Dave to discover that the horse Steve had got for +him was his own old favorite Chiquito. The pinto knew him. He tested this +by putting him through some of his old tricks. The horse refused to dance +or play dead, but at the word of command his right foreleg came up to +shake hands. He nuzzled his silky nose against the coat of his master +just as in the days of old. + +Crawford rode a bay, larger than a bronco. The oil prospector was +astride a rangy roan. He was no horseman, but as a perpetual-motion +conversationalist the old wildcatter broke records. He was a short barrel +of a man, with small eyes set close together, and he made a figure of fun +perched high up in the saddle. But he permitted no difficulties of travel +to interfere with his monologue. + +"The boss hold-up wasn't no glad-hand artist," he explained. "He was a +sure-enough sulky devil, though o'course we couldn't see his face behind +the mask. Blue mask it was, made outa a bandanna handkerchief. Well, +rightaway I knew somethin' was liable to pop, for old Harrigan, scared to +death, kep' a-goin' just the same. Maybe he hadn't sense enough to stop, +as the fellow says. Maybe he didn't want to. Bang-bang! I reckon Tim was +dead before he hit the ground. They lined us up, but they didn't take a +thing except the gold and one Chicago fellow's watch. Then they cut the +harness and p'int for the hills." + +"How do you know they made for the hills?" asked Dave. + +"Well, they naturally would. Anyhow, they lit out round the Bend. I +hadn't lost 'em none, and I wasn't lookin' to see where they went. Not in +this year of our Lord. I'm right careless at times, but not enough so to +make inquiries of road agents when they're red from killin'. I been told +I got no terminal facilities of speech, but it's a fact I didn't chirp +from start to finish of the hold-up. I was plumb reticent." + +Light sifted into the sky. The riders saw the colors change in a desert +dawn. The hilltops below them were veiled in a silver-blue mist. Far away +Malapi rose out of the caldron, its cheapness for once touched to a +moment of beauty and significance. In that glorified sunrise it might +have been a jeweled city of dreams. + +The prospector's words flowed on. Crystal dawns might come and go, +succeeding mist scarfs of rose and lilac, but a great poet has said +that speech is silver. + +"No, sir. When a man has got the drop on me I don't aim to argue with +him. Not none. Tim Harrigan had notions. Different here. I've done some +rough-housin'. When a guy puts up his dukes I'm there. Onct down in +Sonora I slammed a fellow so hard he woke up among strangers. Fact. I +don't make claims, but up at Carbondale they say I'm some rip-snorter +when I get goin' good. I'm quiet. I don't go around with a chip on my +shoulder. It's the quiet boys you want to look out for. Am I right?" + +Crawford gave a little snort of laughter and covered it hastily with a +cough. + +"You know it," went on the quiet man who was a rip-snorter when he got +going. "In regards to that, I'll say my observation is that when you meet +a small man with a steady gray eye it don't do a bit of harm to spend +a lot of time leavin' him alone. He may be good-natured, but he won't +stand no devilin', take it from me." + +The small man with the gray eye eased himself in the saddle and moistened +his tongue for a fresh start. "But I'm not one o' these foolhardy idiots +who have to have wooden suits made for 'em because they don't know when +to stay mum. You cattlemen have lived a quiet life in the hills, but I've +been right where the tough ones crowd for years. I'll tell you there's a +time to talk and a time to keep still, as the old sayin' is." + +"Yes," agreed Crawford. + +"Another thing. I got an instinct that tells me when folks are interested +in what I say. I've seen talkers that went right on borin' people and +never caught on. They'd talk yore arm off without gettin' wise to it that +you'd had a-plenty. That kind of talker ain't fit for nothin' but to +wrangle Mary's little lamb 'way off from every human bein'." + +In front of the riders a group of cottonwoods lifted their branches at +a sharp bend in the road. Just before they reached this turn a bridge +crossed a dry irrigating lateral. + +"After Harrigan had been shot I came to the ditch for some water, but she +was dry as a whistle. Ever notice how things are that way? A fellow wants +water; none there. It's rainin' rivers; the ditch is runnin' strong. +There's a sermon for a preacher," said the prospector. + +The cattleman nodded to Dave. "I noticed she was dry when I crossed +higher up on my way out. But she was full up with water when I saw her +after I had been up to Dick Grein's." + +"Funny," commented Sanders. "Nobody would want water to irrigate at this +season. Who turned the water in? And why?" + +"Beats me," answered Crawford. "But it don't worry me any. I've got +troubles of my own." + +They reached the cottonwoods, and the oil prospector pointed out to them +just where the stage had been when the bandits first appeared. He showed +them the bushes from behind which the robbers had stepped, the place +occupied by the passengers after they had been lined up, and the course +taken by the hold-ups after the robbery. + +The road ran up a long, slow incline to the Bend, which was the crest of +the hill. Beyond it the wheel tracks went down again with a sharp dip. +The stage had been stopped just beyond the crest, just at the beginning +of the down grade. + +"The coach must have just started to move downhill when the robbers +jumped out from the bushes," suggested Dave. + +"Sure enough. That's probably howcome Tim to make a mistake. He figured +he could give the horses the whip and make a getaway. The hold-up saw +that. He had to shoot to kill or lose the gold. Bein' as he was a +cold-blooded killer he shot." There were pinpoints of light in Emerson +Crawford's eyes. He knew now the kind of man they were hunting. He was an +assassin of a deadly type, not a wild cowboy who had fired in excitement +because his nerves had betrayed him. + +"Yes. Tim knew what he was doing. He took a chance the hold-ups wouldn't +shoot to kill. Most of 'em won't. That was his mistake. If he'd seen the +face behind that mask he would have known better," said Dave. + +Crawford quartered over the ground. "Just like I thought, Dave. Applegate +and his posse have been here and stomped out any tracks the robbers left. +No way of tellin' which of all these footprints belonged to them. Likely +none of 'em. If I didn't know better I'd think some one had been givin' a +dance here, the way the ground is cut up." + +They made a wide circle to try to pick up the trail wanted, and again a +still larger one. Both of these attempts failed. + +"Looks to me like they flew away," the cattleman said at last. "Horses +have got hoofs and hoofs make tracks. I see plenty of these, but I don't +find any place where the animals waited while this thing was bein' +pulled off." + +"The sheriff's posse has milled over the whole ground so thoroughly we +can't be sure. But there's a point in what you say. Maybe they left their +horses farther up the hill and walked back to them," Dave hazarded. + +"No-o, son. This job was planned careful. Now the hold-ups didn't know +whether they'd have to make a quick getaway or not. They would have their +horses handy, but out of sight." + +"Why not in the dry ditch back of the cotton woods?" asked Dave with a +flash of light. + +Crawford stared at him, but at last shook his head, "I reckon not. In the +sand and clay there the hoofs would show too plain." + +"What if the hold-ups knew the ditch was going to be filled before the +pursuit got started?" + +"You mean--?" + +"I mean they might have arranged to have the water turned into the +lateral to wipe out their tracks." + +"I'll be dawged if you ain't on a warm trail, son," murmured Crawford. +"And if they knew that, why wouldn't they ride either up or down the +ditch and leave no tracks a-tall?" + +"They would--for a way, anyhow. Up or down, which?" + +"Down, so as to reach Malapi and get into the Gusher before word came of +the hold-up," guessed Crawford. + +"Up, because in the hills there's less chance of being seen," differed +Dave. "Crooks like them can fix up an alibi when they need one. They had +to get away unseen, in a hurry, and to get rid of the gold soon in case +they should be seen." + +"You've rung the bell, son. Up it is. It's an instinct of an outlaw to +make for the hills where he can hole up when in trouble." + +The prospector had been out of the conversation long enough. + +"Depends who did this," he said. "If they come from the town, they'd want +to get back there in a hurry. If not, they'd steer clear of folks. Onct, +when I was in Oklahoma, a nigger went into a house and shot a white man +he claimed owed him money. He made his getaway, looked like, and the +whole town hunted for him for fifty miles. They found him two days later +in the cellar of the man he had killed." + +"Well, you can go look in Tim Harrigan's cellar if you've a mind to. Dave +and I are goin' up the ditch," said the old cattleman, smiling. + +"I'll tag along, seein' as I've been drug in this far. All I'll say is +that when we get to the bottom of this, we'll find it was done by fellows +you'd never suspect. I know human nature. My guess is no drunken cowboy +pulled this off. No, sir. I'd look higher for the men." + +"How about Parson Brown and the school superintendent?" asked Crawford. + +"You can laugh. All right. Wait and see. Somehow I don't make mistakes. +I'm lucky that way. Use my judgment, I reckon. Anyhow, I always guess +right on presidential elections and prize fights. You got to know men, in +my line of business. I study 'em. Hardly ever peg 'em wrong. Fellow said +to me one day, 'How's it come, Thomas, you most always call the turn?' I +give him an answer in one word--psycho-ology." + +The trailers scanned closely the edge of the irrigation ditch. Here, too, +they failed to get results. There were tracks enough close to the +lateral, but apparently none of them led down into the bed of it. The +outlaws no doubt had carefully obliterated their tracks at this place +in order to give no starting-point for the pursuit. + +"I'll go up on the left-hand side, you take the right, Dave," said +Crawford. "We've got to find where they left the ditch." + +The prospector took the sandy bed of the dry canal as his path. He chose +it for two reasons. There was less brush to obstruct his progress, and he +could reach the ears of both his auditors better as he burbled his +comments on affairs in general and the wisdom of Mr. Thomas in +particular. + +The ditch was climbing into the hills, zigzagging up draws in order to +find the most even grade. The three men traveled slowly, for Sanders and +Crawford had to read sign on every foot of the way. + +"Chances are they didn't leave the ditch till they heard the water +comin'," the cattleman said. "These fellows knew their business, and they +were playin' safe." + +Dave pulled up. He went down on his knees and studied the ground, then +jumped down into the ditch and examined the bank. + +"Here's where they got out," he announced. + +Thomas pressed forward. With one outstretched hand the young man held him +back. + +"Just a minute. I want Mr. Crawford to see this before it's touched." + +The old cattleman examined the side of the canal. The clay showed where a +sharp hoof had reached for a footing, missed, and pawed down the bank. +Higher up was the faint mark of a shoe on the loose rubble at the edge. + +"Looks like," he assented. + +Study of the ground above showed the trail of two horses striking off at +a right angle from the ditch toward the mouth of a box cañon about a mile +distant. The horses were both larger than broncos. One of them was shod. +One of the front shoes, badly worn, was broken and part of it gone on the +left side. The riders were taking no pains apparently to hide their +course. No doubt they relied on the full ditch to blot out pursuit. + +The trail led through the cañon, over a divide beyond, and down into a +small grassy valley. + +At the summit Crawford gave strict orders. "No talkin', Mr. Thomas. This +is serious business now. We're in enemy country and have got to soft-foot +it." + +The foothills were bristling with chaparral. Behind any scrub oak or +cedar, under cover of an aspen thicket or even of a clump of gray sage, +an enemy with murder in his heart might be lurking. Here an ambush was +much more likely than in the sun-scorched plain they had left. + +The three men left the footpath where it dipped down into the park and +followed the rim to the left, passing through a heavy growth of manzanita +to a bare hill dotted with scrubby sage, at the other side of which was +a small gulch of aspens straggling down into the valley. Back of these a +log cabin squatted on the slope. One had to be almost upon it before it +could be seen. Its back door looked down upon the entrance to a cañon. +This was fenced across to make a corral. + +The cattleman and the cowpuncher looked at each other without verbal +comment. A message better not put into words flashed from one to the +other. This looked like the haunt of rustlers. Here they could pursue +their nefarious calling unmolested. Not once a year would anybody except +one of themselves enter this valley, and if a stranger did so he would +know better than to push his way into the cañon. + +Horses were drowsing sleepily in the corral. Dave slid from the saddle +and spoke to Crawford in a low voice. + +"I'm going down to have a look at those horses," he said, unfastening his +rope from the tientos. + +The cattleman nodded. He drew from its case beneath his leg a rifle and +held it across the pommel. It was not necessary for Sanders to ask, nor +for him to promise, protection while the younger man was making his trip +of inspection. Both were men who knew the frontier code and each other. +At a time of action speech, beyond the curtest of monosyllables, was +surplusage. + +Dave walked and slid down the rubble of the steep hillside, clambered +down a rough face of rock, and dropped into the corral: He wore a +revolver, but he did not draw it. He did not want to give anybody in the +house an excuse to shoot at him without warning. + +His glance swept over the horses, searched the hoofs of each. It found +one shod, a rangy roan gelding. + +The cowpuncher's rope whined through the air and settled down upon the +shoulders of the animal. The gelding went sun-fishing as a formal protest +against the lariat, then surrendered tamely. Dave patted it gently, +stroked the neck, and spoke softly reassuring words. He picked up one of +the front feet and examined the shoe. This was badly worn, and on the +left side part of it had broken off. + +A man came to the back door of the cabin and stretched in a long and +luxuriant yawn. Carelessly and casually his eyes wandered over the aspens +and into the corral. For a moment he stood frozen, his arms still flung +wide. + +From the aspens came down Crawford's voice, cool and ironic. "Much +obliged, Shorty. Leave 'em right up and save trouble." + +The squat cowpuncher's eyes moved back to the aspens and found there the +owner of the D Bar Lazy R. "Wha'dya want?" he growled sullenly. + +"You--just now. Step right out from the house, Shorty. Tha's right. +Anybody else in the house?" + +"No." + +"You'll be luckier if you tell the truth." + +"I'm tellin' it." + +"Hope so. Dave, step forward and get his six-shooter. Keep him between +you and the house. If anything happens to you I'm goin' to kill him right +now." + +Shorty shivered, hardy villain though he was. There had been nobody in +the house when he left it, but he had been expecting some one shortly. If +his partner arrived and began shooting, he knew that Crawford would drop +him in his tracks. His throat went dry as a lime kiln. He wanted to shout +out to the man who might be inside not to shoot at any cost. But he was a +game and loyal ruffian. He would not spoil his confederate's chance by +betraying him. If he said nothing, the man might come, realize the +situation, and slip away unobserved. + +Sanders took the man's gun and ran his hand over his thick body to make +sure he had no concealed weapon. + +"I'm going to back away. You come after me, step by step, so close I +could touch you with the gun," ordered Dave. + +The man followed him as directed, his hands still in the air. His captor +kept him in a line between him and the house door. Crawford rode down to +join them. The man who claimed not to be foolhardy stayed up in the +timber. This was no business of his. He did not want to be the target +of any shots from the cabin. + +The cattleman swung down from the saddle. "Sure we'll 'light and come in, +Shorty. No, you first. I'm right at yore heels with this gun pokin' into +yore ribs. Don't make any mistake. You'd never have time to explain it." + +The cabin had only one room. The bunks were over at one side, the stove +and table at the other. Two six-pane windows flanked the front door. + +The room was empty, except for the three men now entering. + +"You live here, Shorty?" asked Crawford curtly. + +"Yes." The answer was sulky and reluctant. + +"Alone?" + +"Yes." + +"Why?" snapped the cattleman. + +Shorty's defiant eyes met his. "My business." + +"Mine, too, I'll bet a dollar. If you're nestin' in these hills you +cayn't have but one business." + +"Prove it! Prove it!" retorted Shorty angrily. + +"Some day--not now." Crawford turned to Sanders. "What about the horse +you looked at, Dave?" + +"Same one we've been trailing. The one with the broken shoe." + +"That yore horse, Shorty?" + +"Maybeso. Maybe not." + +"You've been havin' company here lately," Crawford went on. "Who's yore +guest?" + +"You seem to be right now. You and yore friend the convict," sneered the +short cowpuncher. + +"Don't use that word again, Shorty," advised the ranchman in a voice +gently ominous. + +"Why not? True, ain't it? Doesn't deny it none, does he?" + +"We'll not discuss that. Where were you yesterday?" + +"Here, part o' the day. Where was you?" demanded Shorty impudently. +"Seems to me I heard you was right busy." + +"What part of the day? Begin at the beginnin' and tell us what you did. +You may put yore hands down." + +"Why, I got up in the mo'nin' and put on my pants an' my boots," jeered +Shorty. "I don't recolleck whether I put on my hat or not. Maybe I did. I +cooked breakfast and et it. I chawed tobacco. I cooked dinner and et it. +Smoked and chawed some more. Cooked supper and et it. Went to bed." + +"That all?" + +"Why, no, I fed the critters and fixed up a busted stirrup." + +"Who was with you?" + +"I was plumb lonesome yesterday. This any business of yours, by the way, +Em?" + +"Think again, Shorty. Who was with you?" + +The heavy-set cowpuncher helped himself to a chew of tobacco. "I told you +onct I was alone. Ain't seen anybody but you for a week." + +"Then how did you hear yesterday was my busy day?" Crawford thrust at +him. + +For a moment Shorty was taken aback. Before he could answer Dave spoke. + +"Man coming up from the creek." + +Crawford took crisp command. "Back in that corner, Shorty. Dave, you +stand back, too. Cover him soon as he shows up." + +Dave nodded. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MILLER TALKS + + +A man stood in the doorway, big, fat, swaggering. In his younger days his +deep chest and broad shoulders had accompanied great strength. But fat +had accumulated in layers. He was a mountain of sagging flesh. His breath +came in wheezy puffs. + +"Next time you get your own--" + +The voice faltered, died away. The protuberant eyes, still cold and +fishy, passed fearfully from one to another of those in the room. It was +plain that the bottom had dropped out of his heart. One moment he had +straddled the world a Colossus, the next he was collapsing like a +punctured balloon. + +"Goddlemighty!" he gasped. "Don't shoot! I--I give up." + +He was carrying a bucket of water. It dropped from his nerveless fingers +and spilt over the floor. + +Like a bullet out of a gun Crawford shot a question at him. "Where have +you hidden the money you got from the stage?" + +The loose mouth of the convict opened. "Why, we--I--we--" + +"Keep yore trap shut, you durn fool," ordered Shorty. + +Crawford jabbed his rifle into the ribs of the rustler. "Yours, too, +Shorty." + +But the damage had been done. Miller's flabby will had been braced by +a stronger one. He had been given time to recover from his dismay. He +moistened his lips with his tongue and framed his lie. + +"I was gonna say you must be mistaken, Mr. Crawford," he whined. + +Shorty laughed hardily, spat tobacco juice at a knot in the floor, and +spoke again. "Third degree stuff, eh? It won't buy you a thing, Crawford. +Miller wasn't in that hold-up any more'n I--" + +"Let Miller do his own talkin', Shorty. He don't need any lead from you." + +Shorty looked hard at the cattleman with unflinching eyes. "Don't get on +the peck, Em. You got no business coverin' me with that gun. I know you +got reasons a-plenty for tryin' to bluff us into sayin' we held up the +stage. But we don't bluff worth a cent. See?" + +Crawford saw. He had failed to surprise a confession out of Miller by the +narrowest of margins. If he had had time to get Shorty out of the room +before the convict's appearance, the fellow would have come through. As +it was, he had missed his opportunity. + +A head followed by a round barrel body came in cautiously from the +lean-to at the rear. + +"Everything all right, Mr. Crawford? Thought I'd drap on down to see if +you didn't need any help." + +"None, thanks, Mr. Thomas," the cattleman answered dryly. + +"Well, you never can tell." The prospector nodded genially to Shorty, +then spoke again to the man with the rifle. "Found any clue to the +hold-up yet?" + +"We've found the men who did it," replied Crawford. + +"Knew 'em all the time, I reckon," scoffed Shorty with a harsh laugh. + +Dave drew his chief aside, still keeping a vigilant eye on the prisoners. +"We've got to play our hand different. Shorty is game. He can't be +bluffed. But Miller can. I found out years ago he squeals at physical +pain. We'll start for home. After a while we'll give Shorty a chance to +make a getaway. Then we'll turn the screws on Miller." + +"All right, Dave. You run it. I'll back yore play," his friend said. + +They disarmed Miller, made him saddle two of the horses in the corral, +and took the back trail across the valley to the divide. It was here they +gave Shorty his chance of escape. Miller was leading the way up the +trail, with Crawford, Thomas, Shorty, and Dave in the order named. Dave +rode forward to confer with the owner of the D Bar Lazy R. For three +seconds his back was turned to the squat cowpuncher. + +Shorty whirled his horse and flung it wildly down the precipitous slope. +Sanders galloped after him, fired his revolver three times, and after a +short chase gave up the pursuit. He rode back to the party on the summit. + +Crawford glanced around at the heavy chaparral. "How about off here a +bit, Dave?" + +The younger man agreed. He turned to Miller. "We're going to hang you," +he said quietly. + +The pasty color of the fat man ebbed till his face seemed entirely +bloodless. "My God! You wouldn't do that!" he moaned. + +He clung feebly to the horn of his saddle as Sanders led the horse into +the brush. He whimpered, snuffling an appeal for mercy repeated over and +over. The party had not left the road a hundred yards behind when a man +jogged past on his way into the valley. He did not see them, nor did they +see him. + +Underneath a rather scrubby cedar Dave drew up. He glanced it over +critically. "Think it'll do?" he asked Crawford in a voice the prisoner +could just hear. + +"Yep. That big limb'll hold him," the old cattleman answered in the same +low voice. "Better let him stay right on the horse, then we'll lead it +out from under him." + +Miller pleaded for his life abjectly. His blood had turned to water. +"Honest, I didn't shoot Harrigan. Why, I'm that tender-hearted I wouldn't +hurt a kitten. I--I--Oh, don't do that, for God's sake." + +Thomas was almost as white as the outlaw. "You don't aim to--you +wouldn't--" + +Crawford's face was as cold and as hard as steel. "Why not? He's a +murderer. He tried to gun Dave here when the boy didn't have a +six-shooter. We'll jes' get rid of him now." He threw a rope over the +convict's head and adjusted it to the folds of his fat throat. + +The man under condemnation could hardly speak. His throat was dry as the +desert dust below. "I--I done Mr. Sanders a meanness. I'm sorry. I was +drunk." + +"You lied about him and sent him to the penitentiary." + +"I'll fix that. Lemme go an' I'll make that right." + +"How will you make it right?" asked Crawford grimly, and the weight of +his arm drew the rope so tight that Miller winced. "Can you give him back +the years he's lost?" + +"No, sir, no," the man whispered eagerly. "But I can tell how it +was--that we fired first at him. Doble did that, an' then--accidental--I +killed Doble whilst I was shootin' at Mr. Sanders." + +Dave strode forward, his eyes like great live coals. "What? Say that +again!" he cried. + +"Yessir. I did it--accidental--when Doble run forward in front of me. +Tha's right. I'm plumb sorry I didn't tell the cou't so when you was on +trial, Mr. Sanders. I reckon I was scairt to." + +"Will you tell this of yore own free will to the sheriff down at Malapi?" +asked Crawford. + +"I sure will. Yessir, Mr. Crawford." The man's terror had swept away all +thought of anything but the present peril. His color was a seasick green. +His great body trembled like a jelly shaken from a mould. + +"It's too late now," cut in Dave savagely. "We came up about this stage +robbery. Unless he'll clear that up, I vote to finish the job." + +"Maybe we'd better," agreed the cattleman. "I'll tie the rope to the +trunk of the tree and you lead the horse from under him, Dave." + +Miller broke down. He groveled. "I'll tell. I'll tell all I know. Dug +Doble and Shorty held up the stage. I don' know who killed the driver. +They didn't say when they come back." + +"You let the water into the ditch," suggested Crawford. + +"Yessir. I did that. They was shelterin' me and o' course I had to do +like they said." + +"When did you escape?" + +"On the way back to the penitentiary. A fellow give the deputy sheriff +a drink on the train. It was doped. We had that fixed. The keys to the +handcuffs was in the deputy's pocket. When he went to sleep we unlocked +the cuffs and I got off at the next depot. Horses was waitin' there for +us." + +"Who do you mean by us? Who was with you?" + +"I don' know who he was. Fellow said Brad Steelman sent him to fix things +up for me." + +Thomas borrowed the field-glasses of Crawford. Presently he lowered them. +"Two fellows comin' hell-for-leather across the valley," he said in a +voice that expressed his fears. + +The cattleman took the glasses and looked. "Shorty's found a friend. Dug +Doble likely. They're carryin' rifles. We'll have trouble. They'll see we +stopped at the haid of the pass," he said quietly. + +Much shaken already, the oil prospector collapsed at the prospect before +him. He was a man of peace and always had been, in spite of the valiant +promise of his tongue. + +"None of my funeral," he said, his lips white. "I'm hittin' the trail for +Malapi right now." + +He wheeled his horse and jumped it to a gallop. The roan plunged through +the chaparral and soon was out of sight. + +"We'll fix Mr. Miller so he won't make us any trouble during the rookus," +Crawford told Dave. + +He threw the coiled rope over the heaviest branch of the cedar, drew it +tight, and fastened it to the trunk of the tree. + +"Now you'll stay hitched," he went on, speaking to their prisoner. "And +you'd better hold that horse mighty steady, because if he jumps from +under you it'll be good-bye for one scalawag." + +"If you'd let me down I'd do like you told me, Mr. Crawford," pleaded +Miller. "It's right uncomfortable here." + +"Keep still. Don't say a word. Yore friends are gettin' close. Let a +chirp outa you, and you'll never have time to be sorry," warned the +cattleman. + +The two men tied their horses behind some heavy mesquite and chose their +own cover. Here they crouched down and waited. + +They could hear the horses of the outlaws climbing the hill out of the +valley to the pass. Then, down in the cañon, they caught a glimpse of +Thomas in wild flight. The bandits stopped at the divide. + +"They'll be headin' this way in a minute," Crawford whispered. + +His companion nodded agreement. + +They were wrong. There came the sound of a whoop, a sudden clatter of +hoofs, the diminishing beat of horses' feet. + +"They've seen Thomas, and they're after him on the jump," suggested Dave. + +His friend's eyes crinkled to a smile. "Sure enough. They figure he's the +tail end of our party. Well, I'll bet Thomas gives 'em a good run for +their money. He's right careless sometimes, but he's no foolhardy idiot +and he don't aim to argue with birds like these even though he's a +rip-snorter when he gets goin' good and won't stand any devilin'." + +"He'll talk them to death if they catch him," Dave answered. + +"Back to business. What's our next move, son?" + +"Some more conversation with Miller. Probably he can tell us where the +gold is hidden." + +"Whoopee! I'll bet he can. You do the talkin'. I've a notion he's more +scared of you." + +The fat convict tried to make a stand against them. He pleaded ignorance. +"I don' know where they hid the stuff. They didn't tell me." + +"Sounds reasonable, and you in with them on the deal," said Sanders. +"Well, you're in hard luck. We don't give two hoots for you, anyhow, but +we decided to take you in to town with us if you came through clean. +If not--" He shrugged his shoulders and glanced up at the branch above. + +Miller swallowed a lump in his throat. "You wouldn't treat me thataway, +Mr. Sanders. I'm gittin' to be an old man now. I done wrong, but I'm sure +right sorry," he whimpered. + +The eyes of the man who had spent years in prison at Cañon City were hard +as jade. The fat man read a day of judgment in his stern and somber face. + +"I'll tell!" The crook broke down, clammy beads of perspiration all over +his pallid face. "I'll tell you right where it's at. In the lean-to of +the shack. Southwest corner. Buried in a gunnysack." + +They rode back across the valley to the cabin. Miller pointed out the +spot where the stolen treasure was cached. With an old axe as a spade +Dave dug away the dirt till he came to a bit of sacking. Crawford scooped +out the loose earth with his gauntlet and dragged out a gunnysack. Inside +it were a number of canvas bags showing the broken wax seals of the +express company. These contained gold pieces apparently fresh from the +mint. + +A hurried sum in arithmetic showed that approximately all the gold taken +from the stage must be here. Dave packed it on the back of his saddle +while Crawford penciled a note to leave in the cache in place of the +money. + +The note said: + +This is no safe place to leave seventeen thousand dollars, Dug. I'm +taking it to town to put in the bank. If you want to make inquiries about +it, come in and we'll talk it over, you and me _and Applegate_. + +EMERSON CRAWFORD + +Five minutes later the three men were once more riding rapidly across the +valley toward the summit of the divide. The loop of Crawford's lariat +still encircled the gross neck of the convict. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +DAVE ACCEPTS AN INVITATION + + +Crawford and Dave, with their prisoner, lay out in the chaparral for an +hour, then made their way back to Malapi by a wide circuit. They did not +want to meet Shorty and Doble, for that would result in a pitched battle. +They preferred rather to make a report to the sheriff and let him attempt +the arrest of the bandits. + +Reluctantly, under the pressure of much prodding, Miller repeated his +story to Sheriff Applegate. Under the circumstances he was not sorry that +he was to be returned to the penitentiary, for he recognized that his +life at large would not be safe so long as Shorty and Doble were ranging +the hills. Both of them were "bad men," in the usual Western acceptance +of the term, and an accomplice who betrayed them would meet short shrift +at their hands. + +The sheriff gave Crawford a receipt for the gold after they had counted +it and found none missing. + +The old cattleman rose from the table and reached for his hat. + +"Come on, son," he said to Dave. "I'll say we've done a good day's work. +Both of us were under a cloud. Now we're clear. We're goin' up to the +house to have some supper. Applegate, you'll get both of the confessions +of Miller fixed up, won't you? I'll want the one about George Doble's +death to take with me to the Governor of Colorado. I'm takin' the train +to-morrow." + +"I'll have the district attorney fix up the papers," the sheriff +promised. + +Emerson Crawford hooked an arm under the elbow of Sanders and left the +office. + +"I'm wonderin' about one thing, boy," he said. "Did Miller kill George +Doble accidentally or on purpose?" + +"I'm wondering about that myself. You remember that Denver bartender said +they had been quarreling a good deal. They were having a row at the very +time when I met them at the gate of the corral. It's a ten-to-one shot +that Miller took the chance to plug Doble and make me pay for it." + +"Looks likely, but we'll never know. Son, you've had a rotten deal handed +you." + +The younger man's eyes were hard as steel. He clamped his jaw tight, but +he made no comment. + +"Nobody can give you back the years of yore life you've lost," the +cattleman went on. "But we'll get yore record straightened out, anyhow, +so that won't stand against you. I know one li'l' girl will be tickled to +hear the news. Joy always has stuck out that you were treated shameful." + +"I reckon I'll not go up to your house to-night," Dave said in a +carefully modulated voice. "I'm dirty and unshaven, and anyhow I'd rather +not go to-night." + +Crawford refused to accept this excuse. "No, sir. You're comin' with me, +by gum! I got soap and water and a razor up at the house, if that's +what's troublin' you. We've had a big day and I'm goin' to celebrate by +talkin' it all over again. Dad gum my hide, think of it, you solemn-faced +old owl! This time last night I was 'most a pauper and you sure were. +Both of us were under the charge of havin' killed a man each. To-night +we're rich as that fellow Crocus; anyhow I am, an' you're haided that +way. And both of us have cleared our names to boot. Ain't you got any red +blood in that big body of yore's?" + +"I'll drop in to the Delmonico and get a bite, then ride out to the +Jackpot." + +"You will not!" protested the cattleman. "Looky here, Dave. It's a +showdown. Have you got anything against me?" + +Dave met him eye to eye. "Not a thing, Mr. Crawford. No man ever had a +better friend." + +"Anything against Joyce?" + +"No, sir." + +"Don't hate my boy Keith, do you?" + +"How could I?" + +"Then what in hell ails you? You're not parlor-shy, are you? Say the +word, and we'll eat in the kitchen," grinned Crawford. + +"I'm not a society man," said Sanders lamely. + +He could not explain that the shadow of the prison walls was a barrier he +could not cross; that they rose to bar him from all the joy and happiness +of young life. + +"Who in Mexico's talkin' about society? I said come up and eat supper +with me and Joy and Keith. If you don't come, I'm goin' to be good and +sore. I'll not stand for it, you darned old killjoy." + +"I'll go," answered the invited man. + +He went, not because he wanted to go, but because he could not escape +without being an ungracious boor. + +Joyce flew to meet her father, eyes eager, hands swift to caress his +rough face and wrinkled coat. She bubbled with joy at his return, and +when he told her that his news was of the best the long lashes of the +brown eyes misted with tears. The young man in the background was struck +anew by the matronly tenderness of her relation to her father. She +hovered about him as a mother does about her son returned from the wars. + +"I've brought company for supper, honey," Emerson told her. + +She gave Dave her hand, flushed and smiling. "I've been so worried," she +explained. "It's fine to know the news is good. I'll want to hear it +all." + +"We've got the stolen money back, Joy," exploded her father. "We know who +took it--Dug Doble and that cowboy Shorty and Miller." + +"But I thought Miller--" + +"He escaped. We caught him and brought him back to town with us." +Crawford seized the girl by the shoulders. He was as keen as a boy to +share his pleasure. "And Joy--better news yet. Miller confessed he +killed George Doble. Dave didn't do it at all." + +Joyce came to the young man impulsively, hand outstretched. She was +glowing with delight, eyes kind and warm and glad. "That's the best yet. +Oh, Mr. Sanders, isn't it good?" + +His impassive face gave no betrayal of any happiness he might feel in his +vindication. Indeed, something almost sardonic in its expression chilled +her enthusiasm. More than the passing of years separated them from the +days when he had shyly but gayly wiped dishes for her in the kitchen, +when he had worshiped her with a boy's uncritical adoration. + +Sanders knew it better than she, and cursed the habit of repression that +had become a part of him in his prison days. He wanted to give her happy +smile for smile. But he could not do it. All that was young and ardent +and eager in him was dead. He could not let himself go. Even when +emotions flooded his heart, no evidence of it reached his chill eyes and +set face. + +After he had come back from shaving, he watched her flit about the room +while she set the table. She was the competent young mistress of the +house. With grave young authority she moved, slenderly graceful. He +knew her mind was with the cook in the kitchen, but she found time to +order Keith crisply to wash his face and hands, time to gather flowers +for the center of the table from the front yard and to keep up a running +fire of talk with him and her father. More of the woman than in the days +when he had known her, perhaps less of the carefree maiden, she was +essentially unchanged, was what he might confidently have expected her to +be. Emerson Crawford was the same bluff, hearty Westerner, a friend to +tie to in sunshine and in storm. Even little Keith, just escaping from +his baby ways, had the same tricks and mannerisms. Nothing was different +except himself. He had become arid and hard and bitter, he told himself +regretfully. + +Keith was his slave, a faithful admirer whose eyes fed upon his hero +steadily. He had heard the story of this young man's deeds discussed +until Dave had come to take on almost mythical proportions. + +He asked a question in an awed voice. "How did you get this Miller to +confess?" + +The guest exchanged a glance with the host. "We had a talk with him." + +"Did you--?" + +"Oh, no! We just asked him if he didn't want to tell us all about it, and +it seems he did." + +"Maybe you touched his better feelin's," suggested Keith, with memories +of an hour in Sunday School when his teacher had made a vain appeal to +his. + +His father laughed. "Maybe we did. I noticed he was near blubberin'. I +expect it's 'Adios, Señor Miller.' He's got two years more to serve, and +after that he'll have another nice long term to serve for robbin' the +stage. All I wish is we'd done the job more thorough and sent some +friends of his along with him. Well, that's up to Applegate." + +"I'm glad it is," said Joyce emphatically. + +"Any news to-day from Jackpot Number Three?" asked the president of that +company. + +"Bob Hart sent in to get some supplies and had a note left for me at the +post-office," Miss Joyce mentioned, a trifle annoyed at herself because a +blush insisted on flowing into her cheeks. "He says it's the biggest +thing he ever saw, but it's going to be awf'ly hard to control. Where +_is_ that note? I must have put it somewhere." + +Emerson's eyes flickered mischief. "Oh, well, never mind about the note. +That's private property, I reckon." + +"I'm sure if I can find it--" + +"I'll bet my boots you cayn't, though," he teased. + +"Dad! What will Mr. Sanders think? You know that's nonsense. Bob wrote +because I asked him to let me know." + +"Sure. Why wouldn't the secretary and field superintendent of the Jackpot +Company keep the daughter of the president informed? I'll have it read +into the minutes of our next board meetin' that it's in his duties to +keep you posted." + +"Oh, well, if you want to talk foolishness," she pouted. + +"There's somethin' else I'm goin' to have put into the minutes of the +next meetin', Dave," Crawford went on. "And that's yore election as +treasurer of the company. I want officers around me that I can trust, +son." + +"I don't know anything about finance or about bookkeeping," Dave said. + +"You'll learn. We'll have a bookkeeper, of course. I want some one for +treasurer that's level-haided and knows how to make a quick turn when he +has to, some one that uses the gray stuff in his cocoanut. We'll fix a +salary when we get goin'. You and Bob are goin' to have the active +management of this concern. Cattle's my line, an' I aim to stick to it. +Him and you can talk it over and fix yore duties so's they won't +conflict. Burns, of course, will run the actual drillin'. He's an A1 +man. Don't let him go." + +Dave was profoundly touched. No man could be kinder to his own son, could +show more confidence in him, than Emerson Crawford was to one who had no +claims upon him. + +He murmured a dry "Thank you"; then, feeling this to be inadequate, +added, "I'll try to see you don't regret this." + +The cattleman was a shrewd judge of men. His action now was not based +solely upon humanitarian motives. Here was a keen man, quick-witted, +steady, and wholly to be trusted, one certain to push himself to the +front. It was good business to make it worth his while to stick to +Crawford's enterprises. He said as much to Dave bluntly. + +"And you ain't in for any easy time either," he added. "We've got oil. +We're flooded with it, so I hear. Seve-re-al thousand dollars' worth a +day is runnin' off and seepin' into the desert. Bob Hart and Jed Burns +have got the job of puttin' the lid on the pot, but when they do that +you've got a bigger job. Looks bigger to me, anyhow. You've got to get +rid of that oil--find a market for it, sell it, ship it away to make room +for more. Get busy, son." Crawford waved his hand after the manner of one +who has shifted a responsibility and does not expect to worry about it. +"Moreover an' likewise, we're shy of money to keep operatin' until we can +sell the stuff. You'll have to raise scads of mazuma, son. In this oil +game dollars sure have got wings. No matter how tight yore pockets are +buttoned, they fly right out." + +"I doubt whether you've chosen the right man," the ex-cowpuncher said, +smiling faintly. "The most I ever borrowed in my life was twenty-five +dollars." + +"You borrow twenty-five thousand the same way, only it's easier if the +luck's breakin' right," the cattleman assured him cheerfully. "The +easiest thing in the world to get hold of is money--when you've already +got lots of it." + +"The trouble is we haven't." + +"Well, you'll have to learn to look like you knew where it grew on +bushes," Emerson told him, grinning. + +"I can see you've chosen me for a nice lazy job." + +"Anything but that, son. You don't want to make any mistake about this +thing. Brad Steelman's goin' to fight like a son-of-a-gun. He'll strike +at our credit and at our market and at our means of transportation. He'll +fight twenty-four hours of the day, and he's the slickest, crookedest +gray wolf that ever skulked over the range." + +The foreman of the D Bar Lazy R came in after supper for a conference +with his boss. He and Crawford got their heads together in the +sitting-room and the young people gravitated out to the porch. Joyce +pressed Dave into service to help her water the roses, and Keith hung +around in order to be near Dave. Occasionally he asked questions +irrelevant to the conversation. These were embarrassing or not as it +happened. + +Joyce delivered a little lecture on the culture of roses, not because she +considered herself an authority, but because her guest's conversation was +mostly of the monosyllabic order. He was not awkward or self-conscious; +rather a man given to silence. + +"Say, Mr. Sanders, how does it feel to be wounded?" Keith blurted out. + +"You mustn't ask personal questions, Keith," his sister told him. + +"Oh! Well, I already ast this one?" the boy suggested ingenuously. + +"Don't know, Keith," answered the young man. "I never was really wounded. +If you mean this scratch in the shoulder, I hardly felt it at all till +afterward." + +"Golly! I'll bet I wouldn't tackle a feller shootin' at me the way that +Miller was at you," the youngster commented in naïve admiration. + +"Bedtime for li'l boys, Keith," his sister reminded him. + +"Oh, lemme stay up a while longer," he begged. + +Joyce was firm. She had schooled her impulses to resist the little +fellow's blandishments, but Dave noticed that she was affectionate even +in her refusal. + +"I'll come up and say good-night after a while, Keithie," she promised as +she kissed him. + +To the gaunt-faced man watching them she was the symbol of all most to be +desired in woman. She embodied youth, health, charm. She was life's +springtime, its promise of fulfillment; yet already an immaculate Madonna +in the beauty of her generous soul. He was young enough in his knowledge +of her sex to be unaware that nature often gives soft trout-pool eyes of +tenderness to coquettes and wonderful hair with the lights and shadows of +an autumn-painted valley to giggling fools. Joyce was neither coquette +nor fool. She was essential woman in the making, with all the faults and +fine brave impulses of her years. Unconsciously, perhaps, she was showing +her best side to her guest, as maidens have done to men since Eve first +smiled on Adam. + +Dave had closed his heart to love. It was to have no room in his life. To +his morbid sensibilities the shadow of the prison walls still stretched +between him and Joyce. It did not matter that he was innocent, that all +his small world would soon know of his vindication. The fact stood. For +years he had been shut away from men, a leprous thing labeled "Unclean!" +He had dwelt in a place of furtive whisperings, of sinister sounds. His +nostrils had inhaled the odor of musty clothes and steamed food. His +fingers had touched moisture sweating through the walls, and in his small +dark cell he had hunted graybacks. The hopeless squalor of it at times +had driven him almost mad. As he saw it now, his guilt was of minor +importance. If he had not fired the shot that killed George Doble, that +was merely a chance detail. What counted against him was that his soul +was marked with the taint of the criminal through association and habit +of thought. He could reason with this feeling and temporarily destroy it. +He could drag it into the light and laugh it away. But subconsciously it +persisted as a horror from which he could not escape. A man cannot touch +pitch, even against his own will, and not be defiled. + +"You're Keith's hero, you know," the girl told Dave, her face bubbling +to unexpected mirth. "He tries to walk and talk like you. He asks the +queerest questions. To-day I caught him diving at a pillow on the bed. +He was making-believe to be you when you were shot." + +Her nearness in the soft, shadowy night shook his self-control. The music +of her voice with its drawling intonations played on his heartstrings. + +"Think I'll go now," he said abruptly. + +"You must come again," she told him. "Keith wants you to teach him how to +rope. You won't mind, will you?" + +The long lashes lifted innocently from the soft deep eyes, which rested +in his for a moment and set clamoring a disturbance in his blood. + +"I'll be right busy," he said awkwardly, bluntly. + +She drew back within herself. "I'd forgotten how busy you are, Mr. +Sanders. Of course we mustn't impose on you," she said, cold and stiff as +only offended youth can be. + +Striding into the night, Dave cursed the fate that had made him what he +was. He had hurt her boorishly by his curt refusal of her friendship. Yet +the heart inside him was a wild river of love. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +AT THE JACKPOT + + +The day lasted twenty-four hours in Malapi. As Sanders walked along +Junipero Street, on his way to the downtown corral from Crawford's house, +saloons and gambling-houses advertised their attractions candidly and +noisily. They seemed bursting with raw and vehement life. The strains of +fiddles and the sound of shuffling feet were pierced occasionally by the +whoop of a drunken reveler. Once there rang out the high notes of a +woman's hysterical laughter. Cowponies and packed burros drooped +listlessly at the hitching-rack. Even loaded wagons were waiting to take +the road as soon as the drivers could tear themselves away from the +attractions of keno and a last drink. + +Junipero Street was not the usual crooked lane that serves as the main +thoroughfare for business in a mining town. For Malapi had been a cowtown +before the discovery of oil. It lay on the wide prairie and not in a +gulch. The street was broad and dusty, flanked by false-front stores, +flat-roofed adobes, and corrugated iron buildings imported hastily since +the first boom. + +At the Stag Horn corral Dave hired a horse and saddled for a night ride. +On his way to the Jackpot he passed a dozen outfits headed for the new +strike. They were hauling supplies of food, tools, timbers, and machinery +to the oil camp. Out of the night a mule skinner shouted a profane and +drunken greeting to him. A Mexican with a burro train gave him a +low-voiced "Buenos noches, señor." + +A fine mist of oil began to spray him when he was still a mile away from +the well. It grew denser as he came nearer. He found Bob Hart, in +oilskins and rubber boots, bossing a gang of scrapers, giving directions +to a second one building a dam across a draw, and supervising a third +group engaged in siphoning crude oil from one sump to another. From head +to foot Hart and his assistants were wet to the skin with the black crude +oil. + +"'Lo, Dave! One sure-enough little spouter!" Bob shouted cheerfully. +"Number Three's sure a-hittin' her up. She's no cougher--stays right +steady on the job. Bet I've wallowed in a million barrels of the stuff +since mo'nin'." He waded through a viscid pool to Dave and asked a +question in a low voice. "What's the good word?" + +"We had a little luck," admitted Sanders, then plumped out his budget of +news. "Got the express money back, captured one of the robbers, forced a +confession out of him, and left him with the sheriff." + +Bob did an Indian war dance in hip boots. "You're the darndest go-getter +ever I did see. Tell it to me, you ornery ol' scalawag." + +His friend told the story of the day so far as it related to the robbery. + +"I could 'a' told you Miller would weaken when you had the rope round his +soft neck. Shorty would 'a' gone through and told you-all where to get +off at." + +"Yes. Miller's yellow. He didn't quit with the robbery, Bob. Must have +been scared bad, I reckon. He admitted that he killed George Doble--by +accident, he claimed. Says Doble ran in front of him while he was +shooting at me." + +"Have you got that down on paper?" demanded Hart. + +"Yes." + +Bob caught his friend's hand. "I reckon the long lane has turned for you, +old socks. I can't tell you how damn glad I am. Doble needed killin', but +I'd rather you hadn't done it." + +The other man made no comment on this phase of the situation. "This +brings Dug Doble out into the open at last. He'll come pretty near going +to the pen for this." + +"I can't see Applegate arrestin' him. He'll fight, Dug will. My notion is +he'll take to the hills and throw off all pretense. If he does he'll be +the worst killer ever was known in this part of the country. You an' +Crawford want to look out for him, Dave." + +"Crawford says he wants me to be treasurer of the company, Bob. You and I +are to manage it, he says, with Burns doing the drilling." + +"Tha's great. He told me he was gonna ask you. Betcha we make the ol' +Jackpot hum." + +"D' you ever hear of a man land poor, Bob?" + +"Sure have." + +"Well, right now we're oil poor. According to what the old man says +there's no cash in the treasury and we've got bills that have to be paid. +You know that ten thousand he paid in to the bank to satisfy the note. He +borrowed it from a friend who took it out of a trust fund to loan it to +him. He didn't tell me who the man is, but he said his friend would get +into trouble a-plenty if it's found out before he replaces the money. +Then we've got to keep our labor bills paid right up. Some of the other +accounts can wait." + +"Can't we borrow money on this gusher?" + +"We'll have to do that. Trouble is that oil isn't a marketable asset +until it reaches a refinery. We can sell stock, of course, but we don't +want to do much of that unless we're forced to it. Our play is to keep +control and not let any other interest in to oust us. It's going to take +some scratching." + +"Looks like," agreed Bob. "Any use tryin' the bank here?" + +"I'll try it, but we'll not accept any call loan. They say Steelman owns +the bank. He won't let us have money unless there's some nigger in the +woodpile. I'll probably have to try Denver." + +"That'll take time." + +"Yes. And time's one thing we haven't got any too much of. Whoever +underwrites this for us will send an expert back with me and will wait +for his report before making a loan. We'll have to talk it over with +Crawford and find out how much treasury stock we'll have to sell locally +to keep the business going till I make a raise." + +"You and the old man decide that, Dave. I can't get away from here till +we get Number Three roped and muzzled. I'll vote for whatever you two +say." + +An hour later Dave rode back to town. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +DAVE MEETS A FINANCIER + + +On more careful consideration Crawford and Sanders decided against trying +to float the Jackpot with local money except by the sale of enough stock +to keep going until the company's affairs could be put on a substantial +basis. To apply to the Malapi bank for a loan would be to expose their +financial condition to Steelman, and it was certain that he would permit +no accommodation except upon terms that would make it possible to wreck +the company. + +"I'm takin' the train for Denver to-morrow, Dave," the older man said. +"You stay here for two-three days and sell enough stock to keep us off +the rocks, then you hot-foot it for Denver too. By the time you get there +I'll have it all fixed up with the Governor about a pardon." + +Dave found no difficulty in disposing of a limited amount of stock in +Malapi at a good price. This done, he took the stage for the junction and +followed Crawford to Denver. An unobtrusive little man with large white +teeth showing stood in line behind him at the ticket window. His +destination also, it appeared, was the Colorado capital. + +If Dave had been a believer in fairy tales he might have thought himself +the hero of one. A few days earlier he had come to Malapi on this same +train, in a day coach, poorly dressed, with no job and no prospects in +life. He had been poor, discredited, a convict on parole. Now he wore +good clothes, traveled in a Pullman, ate in the diner, was a man of +consequence, and, at least on paper, was on the road to wealth. He would +put up at the Albany instead of a cheap rooming-house, and he would meet +on legitimate business some of the big financial men of the West. The +thing was hardly thinkable, yet a turn of the wheel of fortune had done +it for him in an hour. + +The position in which Sanders found himself was possible only because +Crawford was himself a financial babe in the woods. He had borrowed large +sums of money often, but always from men who trusted him and held his +word as better security than collateral. The cattleman was of the +outdoors type to whom the letter of the law means little. A debt was a +debt, and a piece of paper with his name on it did not make payment any +more obligatory. If he had known more about capital and its methods of +finding an outlet, he would never have sent so unsophisticated a man as +Dave Sanders on such a mission. + +For Dave, too, was a child in the business world. He knew nothing of +the inside deals by which industrial enterprises are underwritten and +corporations managed. It was, he supposed, sufficient for his purpose +that the company for which he wanted backing was sure to pay large +dividends when properly put on its feet. + +But Dave had assets of value even for such a task. He had a single-track +mind. He was determined even to obstinacy. He thought straight, and so +directly that he could walk through subtleties without knowing they +existed. + +When he reached Denver he discovered that Crawford had followed the +Governor to the western part of the State, where that official had gone +to open a sectional fair. Sanders had no credentials except a letter of +introduction to the manager of the stockyards. + +"What can I do for you?" asked that gentleman. He was quite willing to +exert himself moderately as a favor to Emerson Crawford, vice-president +of the American Live Stock Association. + +"I want to meet Horace Graham." + +"I can give you a note of introduction to him. You'll probably have to +get an appointment with him through his secretary. He's a tremendously +busy man." + +Dave's talk with the great man's secretary over the telephone was not +satisfactory. Mr. Graham, he learned, had every moment full for the next +two days, after which he would leave for a business trip to the East. + +There were other wealthy men in Denver who might be induced to finance +the Jackpot, but Dave intended to see Graham first. The big railroad +builder was a fighter. He was hammering through, in spite of heavy +opposition from trans-continental lines, a short cut across the Rocky +Mountains from Denver. He was a pioneer, one who would take a chance +on a good thing in the plunging, Western way. In his rugged, clean-cut +character was much that appealed to the managers of the Jackpot. + +Sanders called at the financier's office and sent in his card by the +youthful Cerberus who kept watch at the gate. The card got no farther +than the great man's private secretary. + +After a wait of more than an hour Dave made overtures to the boy. A +dollar passed from him to the youth and established a friendly relation. + +"What's the best way to reach Mr. Graham, son? I've got important +business that won't wait." + +"Dunno. He's awful busy. You ain't got no appointment." + +"Can you get a note to him? I've got a five-dollar bill for you if you +can." + +"I'll take a whirl at it. Jus' 'fore he goes to lunch." + +Dave penciled a line on a card. + +If you are not too busy to make $100,000 to-day you had better see me. + +He signed his name. + +Ten minutes later the office boy caught Graham as he rose to leave for +lunch. The big man read the note. + +"What kind of looking fellow is he?" he asked the boy. + +"Kinda solemn-lookin' guy, sir." The boy remembered the dollar received +on account and the five dollars on the horizon. "Big, straight-standin', +honest fellow. From Arizona or Texas, mebbe. Looked good to me." + +The financier frowned down at the note in doubt, twisting it in his +fingers. A dozen times a week his privacy was assailed by some crazy +inventor or crook promoter. He remembered that he had had a letter from +some one about this man. Something of strength in the chirography of the +note in his hand and something of simple directness in the wording +decided him to give an interview. + +"Show him in," he said abruptly, and while he waited in the office rated +himself for his folly in wasting time. + +Underneath bushy brows steel-gray eyes took Dave in shrewdly. + +"Well, what is it?" snapped the millionaire. + +"The new gusher in the Malapi pool," answered Sanders at once, and his +gaze was as steady as that of the big state-builder. + +"You represent the parties that own it?" + +"Yes." + +"And you want?" + +"Financial backing to put it on its feet until we can market the +product." + +"Why don't you work through your local bank?" + +"Another oil man, an enemy of our company, controls the Malapi bank." + +Graham fired question after question at him, crisply, abruptly, and +Sanders gave him back straight, short answers. + +"Sit down," ordered the railroad builder, resuming his own seat. "Tell me +the whole story of the company." + +Dave told it, and in the telling he found it necessary to sketch the +Crawford-Steelman feud. He brought himself into the narrative as little +as possible, but the grizzled millionaire drew enough from him to set +Graham's eye to sparkling. + +"Come back to-morrow at noon," decided the great man. "I'll let you know +my decision then." + +The young man knew he was dismissed, but he left the office elated. +Graham had been favorably impressed. He liked the proposition, believed +in its legitimacy and its possibilities. Dave felt sure he would send an +expert to Malapi with him to report on it as an investment. If so, he +would almost certainly agree to put money in it. + +A man with prominent white front teeth had followed Dave to the office of +Horace Graham, had seen him enter, and later had seen him come out with a +look on his face that told of victory. The man tried to get admittance to +the financier and failed. He went back to his hotel and wrote a short +letter which he signed with a fictitious name. This he sent by special +delivery to Graham. The letter was brief and to the point. It said: + +Don't do business with David Sanders without investigating his record. He +is a horsethief and a convicted murderer. Some months ago he was paroled +from the penitentiary at Cañon City and since then has been in several +shooting scrapes. He was accused of robbing a stage and murdering the +driver less than a week ago. + +Graham read the letter and called in his private secretary. "McMurray, +get Cañon City on the 'phone and find out if a man called David Sanders +was released from the penitentiary there lately. If so, what was he +in for? Describe the man to the warden: under twenty-five, tall, straight +as an Indian, strongly built, looks at you level and steady, brown hair, +steel-blue eyes. Do it now." + +Before he left the office that afternoon Graham had before him a +typewritten memorandum from his secretary covering the case of David +Sanders. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THREE IN CONSULTATION + + +The grizzled railroad builder fixed Sanders with an eye that had read +into the soul of many a shirker and many a dishonest schemer. + +"How long have you been with the Jackpot Company?" + +"Not long. Only a few days." + +"How much stock do you own?" + +"Ten thousand shares." + +"How did you get it?" + +"It was voted me by the directors for saving Jackpot Number Three from an +attack of Steelman's men." + +Graham's gaze bored into the eyes of his caller. He waited just a moment +to give his question full emphasis. "Mr. Sanders, what were you doing six +months ago?" + +"I was serving time in the penitentiary," came the immediate quiet +retort. + +"What for?" + +"For manslaughter." + +"You didn't tell me this yesterday." + +"No. It has no bearing on the value of the proposition I submitted to +you, and I thought it might prejudice you against it." + +"Have you been in any trouble since you left prison?" + +Dave hesitated. The blazer of railroad trails rapped out a sharp, +explanatory question. "Any shooting scrapes?" + +"A man shot at me in Malapi. I was unarmed." + +"That all?" + +"Another man fired at me out at the Jackpot. I was unarmed then." + +"Were you accused of holding up a stage, robbing it, and killing the +driver?" + +"No. I was twenty miles away at the time of the hold-up and had evidence +to prove it." + +"Then you were mentioned in connection with the robbery?" + +"If so, only by my enemies. One of the robbers was captured and made a +full confession. He showed where the stolen gold was cached and it was +recovered." + +The great man looked with chilly eyes at the young fellow standing in +front of him. He had a sense of having been tricked and imposed upon. + +"I have decided not to accept your proposition to cooperate with you in +financing the Jackpot Company, Mr. Sanders." Horace Graham pressed an +electric button and a clerk appeared. "Show this gentleman out, Hervey." + +But Sanders stood his ground. Nobody could have guessed from his stolid +imperturbability how much he was depressed at this unexpected failure. + +"Do I understand that you are declining this loan because I am connected +with it, Mr. Graham?" + +"I do not give a reason, sir. The loan does not appeal to me," the +railroad builder said with chill finality. + +"It appealed to you yesterday," persisted Dave. + +"But not to-day. Hervey, I will see Mr. Gates at once. Tell McMurray so." + +Reluctantly Dave followed the clerk out of the room. He had been +checkmated, but he did not know how. In some way Steelman had got to the +financier with this story that had damned the project. The new treasurer +of the Jackpot Company was much distressed. If his connection with the +company was going to have this effect, he must resign at once. + +He walked back to the hotel, and in the corridor of the Albany met a big +bluff cattleman the memory of whose kindness leaped across the years to +warm his heart. + +"You don't remember me, Mr. West?" + +The owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter Circle looked at the young man and +gave a little whoop. "Damn my skin, if it ain't the boy who bluffed a +whole railroad system into lettin' him reload stock for me!" He hooked an +arm under Dave's and led him straight to the bar. "Where you been? What +you doin'? Why n't you come to me soon as you ... got out of a job? +What'll you have, boy?" + +Dave named ginger ale. They lifted glasses. + +"How?" + +"How?" + +"Now you tell me all about it," said West presently, leading the way to a +lounge seat in the mezzanine gallery. + +Sanders answered at first in monosyllables, but presently he found +himself telling the story of his failure to enlist Horace Graham in the +Jackpot property as a backer. + +The cattleman began to rumple his hair, just as he had done years ago in +moments of excitement. + +"Wish I'd known, boy. I've been acquainted with Horace Graham ever since +he ran a hardware store on Larimer Street, and that's 'most thirty years +ago. I'd 'a' gone with you to see him. Maybe I can see him now." + +"You can't change the facts, Mr. West. When he knew I was a convict he +threw the whole thing overboard." + +The voice of a page in the lobby rose in sing-song. "Mister Sa-a-anders. +Mis-ter Sa-a-a-anders." + +Dave stepped to the railing and called down. "I'm Mr. Sanders. Who wants +me?" + +A man near the desk waved a paper and shouted: "Hello, Dave! News for +you, son. I'll come up." The speaker was Crawford. + +He shook hands with Dave and with West while he ejaculated his news in +jets. "I got it, son. Got it right here. Came back with the Governor this +mo'nin'. Called together Pardon Board. Here 't is. Clean bill of health, +son. Resolutions of regret for miscarriage of justice. Big story front +page's afternoon's papers." + +Dave smiled sardonically. "You're just a few hours late, Mr. Crawford. +Graham turned us down cold this morning because I'm a penitentiary bird." + +"He did?" Crawford began to boil inside. "Well, he can go right plumb to +Yuma. Anybody so small as that--" + +"Hold yore hawsses, Em," said West, smiling. + +"Graham didn't know the facts. If you was a capitalist an' thinkin' of +loanin' big money to a man you found out had been in prison for +manslaughter and that he had since been accused of robbin' a stage an' +killing the driver--" + +"He was in a hurry," explained Dave. "Going East to-morrow. Some one must +have got at him after I saw him. He'd made up his mind when I went back +to-day." + +"Well, Horace Graham ain't one of those who won't change his views for +heaven, hell, and high water. All we've got to do is to get to him and +make him see the light," said West. + +"When are we going to do all that?" asked Sanders. "He's busy every +minute of the time till he starts. He won't give us an appointment." + +"He'll see me. We're old friends," predicted West confidently. + +Crestfallen, he met the two officers of the Jackpot Company three hours +later. "Couldn't get to him. Sent word out he was sorry, an' how was Mrs. +West an' the children, but he was in conference an' couldn't break away." + +Dave nodded. He had expected this and prepared for it. "I've found out +he's going on the eight o'clock flyer. You going to be busy to-morrow, +Mr. West?" + +"No. I got business at the stockyards, but I can put it off." + +"Then I'll get tickets for Omaha on the flyer. Graham will take his +private car. We'll break in and put this up to him. He was friendly to +our proposition before he got the wrong slant on it. If he's open-minded, +as Mr. West says he is--" + +Crawford slapped an open hand on his thigh. "Say, you get the _best_ +ideas, son. We'll do just that." + +"I'll check up and make sure Graham's going on the flyer," said the young +man. "If we fall down we'll lose only a day. Come back when we meet the +night train. I reckon we won't have to get tickets clear through to +Omaha." + +"Fine and dandy," agreed West. "We'll sure see Graham if we have to bust +the door of his car." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +ON THE FLYER + + +West, his friends not in evidence, artfully waylaid Graham on his way to +the private car. + +"Hello, Henry B. Sorry I couldn't see you yesterday," the railroad +builder told West as they shook hands. "You taking this tram?" + +"Yes, sir. Got business takes me East." + +"Drop in to see me some time this morning. Say about noon. You'll have +lunch with me." + +"Suits me. About noon, then," agreed West. + +The conspirators modified their plans to meet a new strategic situation. +West was still of opinion that he had better use his card of entry to get +his friends into the railroad builder's car, but he yielded to Dave's +view that it would be wiser for the cattleman to pave the way at +luncheon. + +Graham's secretary ate lunch with the two old-timers and the conversation +threatened to get away from West and hover about financial conditions in +New York. The cattleman brought it by awkward main force to the subject +he had in mind. + +"Say, Horace, I wanta talk with you about a proposition that's on my +chest," he broke out. + +Graham helped himself to a lamb chop. "Sail in, Henry B. You've got me at +your mercy." + +At the first mention of the Jackpot gusher the financier raised a +prohibitive hand. "I've disposed of that matter. No use reopening it." + +But West stuck to his guns. "I ain't aimin' to try to change yore mind on +a matter of business, Horace. If you'll tell me that you turned down the +proposition because it didn't look to you like there was money in it, +I'll curl right up and not say another word." + +"It doesn't matter why I turned it down. I had my reasons." + +"It matters if you're doin' an injustice to one of the finest young +fellows I know," insisted the New Mexican stanchly. + +"Meaning the convict?" + +"Call him that if you've a mind to. The Governor pardoned him yesterday +because another man confessed he did the killin' for which Dave was +convicted. The boy was railroaded through on false evidence." + +The railroad builder was a fair-minded man. He did not want to be unjust +to any one. At the same time he was not one to jump easily from one view +to another. + +"I noticed something in the papers about a pardon, but I didn't know it +was our young oil promoter. There are other rumors about him too. A stage +robbery, for instance, and a murder with it." + +"He and Em Crawford ran down the robbers and got the money back. One of +the robbers confessed. Dave hadn't a thing to do with the hold-up. +There's a bad gang down in that country. Crawford and Sanders have been +fightin' 'em, so naturally they tell lies about 'em." + +"Did you say this Sanders ran down one of the robbers?" + +"Yes." + +"He didn't tell me that," said Graham thoughtfully. "I liked the young +fellow when I first saw him. He looks quiet and strong; a self-reliant +fellow would be my guess." + +"You bet he is." West laughed reminiscently. "Lemme tell you how I first +met him." He told the story of how Dave had handled the stock shipment +for him years before. + +Horace Graham nodded shrewdly. "Exactly the way I had him sized up till +I began investigating him. Well, let's hear the rest. What more do you +know about him?" + +The Albuquerque man told the other of Dave's conviction, of how he had +educated himself in the penitentiary, of his return home and subsequent +adventures there. + +"There's a man back there in the Pullman knows him like he was his +own son, a straight man, none better in this Western country," West +concluded. + +"Who is he?" + +"Emerson Crawford of the D Bar Lazy R ranch." + +"I've heard of him. He's in this Jackpot company too, isn't he?" + +"He's president of it. If he says the company's right, then it's right." + +"Bring him in to me." + +West reported to his friends, a large smile on his wrinkled face. "I got +him goin' south, boys. Come along, Em, it's up to you now." + +The big financier took one comprehensive look at Emerson Crawford and did +not need any letter of recommendation. A vigorous honesty spoke in the +strong hand-grip, the genial smile, the level, steady eyes. + +"Tell me about this young desperado you gentlemen are trying to saw off +on me," Graham directed, meeting the smile with another and offering +cigars to his guests. + +Crawford told him. He began with the story of the time Sanders and +Hart had saved him from the house of his enemy into which he had been +betrayed. He related how the boy had pursued the men who stole his pinto +and the reasoning which had led him to take it without process of law. He +told the true story of the killing, of the young fellow's conviction, of +his attempt to hold a job in Denver without concealing his past, and of +his busy week since returning to Malapi. + +"All I've got to say is that I hope my boy will grow up to be as good +a man as Dave Sanders," the cattleman finished, and he turned over to +Graham a copy of the findings of the Pardon Board, of the pardon, and of +the newspapers containing an account of the affair with a review of the +causes that had led to the miscarriage of justice. + +"Now about your Jackpot Company. What do you figure as the daily output +of the gusher?" asked Graham. + +"Don't know. It's a whale of a well. Seems to have tapped a great lake of +oil half a mile underground. My driller Burns figures it at from twenty +to thirty thousand barrels a day. I cayn't even guess, because I know so +blamed little about oil." + +Graham looked out of the window at the rushing landscape and tapped on +the table with his finger-tips absentmindedly. Presently he announced a +decision crisply. + +"If you'll leave your papers here I'll look them over and let you know +what I'll do. When I'm ready I'll send McMurray forward to you." + +An hour later the secretary announced to the three men in the Pullman the +decision of his chief. + +"Mr. Graham has instructed me to tell you gentlemen he'll look into your +proposition. I am wiring an oil expert in Denver to return with you to +Malapi. If his report is favorable, Mr. Graham will cooperate with you +in developing the field." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +TWO ON THE HILLTOPS + + +It was the morning after his return. Emerson Crawford helped himself to +another fried egg from the platter and shook his knife at the bright-eyed +girl opposite. + +"I tell you, honey, the boy's a wonder," he insisted. "Knows what he +wants and goes right after it. Don't waste any words. Don't beat around +the bush. Don't let any one bluff him out. Graham says if I don't want +him he'll give him a responsible job pronto." + +The girl's trim head tilted at her father in a smile of sweet derision. +She was pleased, but she did not intend to say so. + +"I believe you're in love with Dave Sanders, Dad. It's about time for me +to be jealous." + +Crawford defended himself. "He's had a hard row to hoe, and he's comin' +out fine. I aim to give him every chance in the world to make good. It's +up to us to stand by him." + +"If he'll let us." Joyce jumped up and ran round the table to him. They +were alone, Keith having departed with a top to join his playmates. She +sat on the arm of his chair, a straight, slim creature very much alive, +and pressed her face of flushed loveliness against his head. "It won't be +your fault, old duck, if things don't go well with him. You're good--the +best ever--a jim-dandy friend. But he's so--so--Oh, I don't know--stiff +as a poker. Acts as if he doesn't want to be friends, as if we're all +ready to turn against him. He makes me good and tired, Dad. Why can't he +be--human?" + +"Now, Joy, you got to remember--" + +"--that he was in prison and had an awful time of it. Oh, yes, I remember +all that. He won't let us forget it. It's just like he held us off all +the time and insisted on us not forgetting it. I'd just like to shake the +foolishness out of him." A rueful little laugh welled from her throat at +the thought. + +"He cayn't be gay as Bob Hart all at onct. Give him time." + +"You're so partial to him you don't see when he's doing wrong. But I see +it. Yesterday he hardly spoke when I met him. Ridiculous. It's all right +for him to hold back and be kinda reserved with outsiders. But with his +friends--you and Bob and old Buck Byington and me--he ought not to shut +himself up in an ice cave. And I'm going to tell him so." + +The cattleman's arm slid round her warm young body and drew her close. +She was to him the dearest thing in the world, a never-failing, exquisite +wonder and mystery. Sometimes even now he was amazed that this rare +spirit had found the breath of life through him. + +"You wanta remember you're a li'l lady," he reproved. "You wouldn't want +to do anything you'd be sorry for, honeybug." + +"I'm not so sure about that," she flushed, amusement rippling her face. +"Someone's got to blow up that young man like a Dutch uncle, and I think +I'm elected. I'll try not to think about being a lady; then I can do my +full duty, Dad. It'll be fun to see how he takes it." + +"Now--now," he remonstrated. + +"It's all right to be proud," she went on. "I wouldn't want to see him +hold his head any lower. But there's no sense in being so offish that +even his friends have to give him up. And that's what it'll come to if he +acts the way he does. Folks will stand just so much. Then they give up +trying." + +"I reckon you're right about that, Joy." + +"Of course I'm right. You have to meet your friends halfway." + +"Well, if you talk to him don't hurt his feelin's." + +There was a glint of mirth in her eyes, almost of friendly malice. "I'm +going to worry him about _my_ feelings, Dad. He'll not have time to think +of his own." + +Joyce found her chance next day. She met David Sanders in front of a +drug-store. He would have passed with a bow if she had let him. + +"What does the oil expert Mr. Graham sent think about our property?" she +asked presently, greetings having been exchanged. + +"He hasn't given out any official opinion yet, but he's impressed. The +report will be favorable, I think." + +"Isn't that good?" + +"Couldn't be better," he admitted. + +It was a warm day. Joyce glanced in at the soda fountain and said +demurely, "My, but it's hot! Won't you come in and have an ice-cream soda +on me?" + +Dave flushed. "If you'll go as my guest," he said stiffly. + +"How good of you to invite me!" she accepted, laughing, but with a tint +of warmer color in her cheeks. + +Rhythmically she moved beside him to a little table in the corner of the +drug-store. "I own stock in the Jackpot. You've got to give an accounting +to me. Have you found a market yet?" + +"The whole Southwest will be our market as soon as we can reach it." + +"And when will that be?" she asked. + +"I'm having some hauled to relieve the glut. The railroad will be +operating inside of six weeks. We'll keep Number Three capped till then +and go on drilling in other locations. Burns is spudding in a new well +to-day." + +The clerk took their order and departed. They were quite alone, not +within hearing of anybody. Joyce took her fear by the throat and plunged +in. + +"You mad at me, Mr. Sanders?" she asked jauntily. + +"You know I'm not." + +"How do I know it?" she asked innocently. "You say as little to me as you +can, and get away from me as quick as you can. Yesterday, for instance, +you'd hardly say 'Good-morning.'" + +"I didn't mean to be rude. I was busy." Dave felt acutely uncomfortable. +"I'm sorry if I didn't seem sociable." + +"So was Mr. Hart busy, but he had time to stop and say a pleasant word." +The brown eyes challenged their vis-à-vis steadily. + +The young man found nothing to say. He could not explain that he had not +lingered because he was giving Bob a chance to see her alone, nor could +he tell her that he felt it better for his peace of mind to keep away +from her as much as possible. + +"I'm not in the habit of inviting young men to invite me to take a soda, +Mr. Sanders," she went on. "This is my first offense. I never did it +before, and I never expect to again.... I do hope the new well will come +in a good one." The last sentence was for the benefit of the clerk +returning with the ice-cream. + +"Looks good," said Dave, playing up. "Smut's showing, and you know that's +a first-class sign." + +"Bob said it was expected in to-day or to-morrow.... I asked you because +I've something to say to you, something I think one of your friends ought +to say, and--and I'm going to do it," she concluded in a voice modulated +just to reach him. + +The clerk had left the glasses and the check. He was back at the fountain +polishing the counter. + +Sanders waited in silence. He had learned to let the burden of +conversation rest on his opponent, and he knew that Joyce just now +was in that class. + +She hesitated, uncertain of her opening. Then, "You're disappointing your +friends, Mr. Sanders," she said lightly. + +He did not know what an effort it took to keep her voice from quavering, +her hand from trembling as it rested on the onyx top of the table. + +"I'm sorry," he said a second time. + +"Perhaps it's our fault. Perhaps we haven't been ... friendly enough." +The lifted eyes went straight into his. + +He found an answer unexpectedly difficult. "No man ever had more generous +friends," he said at last brusquely, his face set hard. + +The girl guessed at the tense feeling back of his words. + +"Let's walk," she replied, and he noticed that the eyes and mouth had +softened to a tender smile. "I can't talk here, Dave." + +They made a pretense of finishing their sodas, then walked out of the +town into the golden autumn sunlight of the foothills. Neither of them +spoke. She carried herself buoyantly, chin up, her face a flushed cameo +of loveliness. As she took the uphill trail a small breath of wind +wrapped the white skirt about her slender limbs. He found in her a new +note, one of unaccustomed shyness. + +The silence grew at last too significant. She was driven to break it. + +"I suppose I'm foolish," she began haltingly. "But I had been +expecting--all of us had--that when you came home from--from Denver--the +first time, I mean--you would be the old Dave Sanders we all knew and +liked. We wanted our friendship to--to help make up to you for what you +must have suffered. We didn't think you'd hold us off like this." + +His eyes narrowed. He looked away at the cedars on the hills painted in +lustrous blues and greens and purples, and at the slopes below burnt to +exquisite color lights by the fires of fall. But what he saw was a gray +prison wall with armed men in the towers. + +"If I could tell you!" He said it in a whisper, to himself, but she just +caught the words. + +"Won't you try?" she said, ever so gently. + +He could not sully her innocence by telling of the furtive whisperings +that had fouled the prison life, made of it an experience degrading and +corrosive. He told her, instead, of the externals of that existence, of +how he had risen, dressed, eaten, worked, exercised, and slept under +orders. He described to her the cells, four by seven by seven, barred, +built in tiers, faced by narrow iron balconies, each containing a stool, +a chair, a shelf, a bunk. In his effort to show her the chasm that +separated him from her he did not spare himself at all. Dryly and in +clean-cut strokes he showed her the sordidness of which he had been the +victim and left her to judge for herself of its evil effect on his +character. + +When he had finished he knew that he had failed. She wept for pity and +murmured, "You poor boy.... You poor boy!" + +He tried again, and this time he drew the moral. "Don't you see, I'm a +marked man--marked for life." He hesitated, then pushed on. "You're fine +and clean and generous--what a good father and mother, and all this have +made you." He swept his hand round in a wide gesture to include the sun +and the hills and all the brave life of the open. "If I come too near +you, don't you see I taint you? I'm a man who was shut up because--" + +"Fiddlesticks! You're a man who has been done a wrong. You mustn't grow +morbid over it. After all, you've been found innocent." + +"That isn't what counts. I've been in the penitentiary. Nothing can wipe +that out. The stain of it's on me and can't be washed away." + +She turned on him with a little burst of feminine ferocity. "How dare you +talk that way, Dave Sanders! I want to be proud of you. We all do. But +how can we be if you give up like a quitter? Don't we all have to keep +beginning our lives over and over again? Aren't we all forever getting +into trouble and getting out of it? A man is as good as he makes himself. +It doesn't matter what outside thing has happened to him. Do you dare +tell me that my dad wouldn't be worth loving if he'd been in prison forty +times?" + +The color crept into his face. "I'm not quitting. I'm going through. The +point is whether I'm to ask my friends to carry my load for me." + +"What are your friends for?" she demanded, and her eyes were like stars +in a field of snow. "Don't you see it's an insult to assume they don't +want to stand with you in your trouble? You've been warped. You're +eaten up with vain pride." Joyce bit her lip to choke back a swelling in +her throat. "The Dave we used to know wasn't like that. He was friendly +and sweet. When folks were kind to him he was kind to them. He wasn't +like--like an old poker." She fell back helplessly on the simile she had +used with her father. + +"I don't blame you for feeling that way," he said gently. "When I first +came out I did think I'd play a lone hand. I was hard and bitter and +defiant. But when I met you-all again--and found you were just like home +folks--all of you so kind and good, far beyond any claims I had on +you--why, Miss Joyce, my heart went out to my old friends with a rush. +It sure did. Maybe I had to be stiff to keep from being mushy." + +"Oh, if that's it!" Her eager face, flushed and tender, nodded approval. + +"But you've got to look at this my way too," he urged. "I can't repay +your father's kindness--yes, and yours too--by letting folks couple your +name, even in friendship, with a man who--" + +She turned on him, glowing with color. "Now that's absurd, Dave Sanders. +I'm not a--a nice little china doll. I'm a flesh-and-blood girl. And I'm +not a statue on a pedestal. I've got to live just like other people. +The trouble with you is that you want to be generous, but you don't want +to give other folks a chance to be. Let's stop this foolishness and be +sure-enough friends--Dave." + +He took her outstretched hand in his brown palm, smiling down at her. +"All right. I know when I'm beaten." + +She beamed. "That's the first honest-to-goodness smile I've seen on your +face since you came back." + +"I've got millions of 'em in my system," he promised. "I've been hoarding +them up for years." + +"Don't hoard them any more. Spend them," she urged. + +"I'll take that prescription, Doctor Joyce." And he spent one as evidence +of good faith. + +The soft and shining oval of her face rippled with gladness as a mountain +lake sparkles with sunshine in a light summer breeze. "I've found again +that Dave boy I lost," she told him. + +"You won't lose him again," he answered, pushing into the hinterland +of his mind the reflection that a man cannot change the color of his +thinking in an hour. + +"We thought he'd gone away for good. I'm so glad he hasn't." + +"No. He's been here all the time, but he's been obeying the orders of a +man who told him he had no business to be alive." + +He looked at her with deep, inscrutable eyes. As a boy he had been +shy but impulsive. The fires of discipline had given him remarkable +self-restraint. She could not tell he was finding in her face the quality +to inspire in a painter a great picture, the expression of that brave +young faith which made her a touchstone to find the gold in his soul. + +Yet in his gravity was something that disturbed her blood. Was she +fanning to flame banked fires better dormant? + +She felt a compunction for what she had done. Maybe she had been +unwomanly. It is a penalty impulsive people have to pay that later they +must consider whether they have been bold and presumptuous. Her spirits +began to droop when she should logically have been celebrating her +success. + +But Dave walked on mountain-tops tipped with mellow gold. He threw off +the weight that had oppressed his spirits for years and was for the hour +a boy again. She had exorcised the gloom in which he walked. He looked +down on a magnificent flaming desert, and it was good. To-day was his. +To-morrow was his. All the to-morrows of the world were in his hand. He +refused to analyze the causes of his joy. It was enough that beside him +moved with charming diffidence the woman of his dreams, that with her +soft hands she had torn down the barrier between them. + +"And now I don't know whether I've done right," she said ruefully. "Dad +warned me I'd better be careful. But of course I always know best. I +'rush in.'" + +"You've done me a million dollars' worth of good. I needed some good +friend to tell me just what you have. Please don't regret it." + +"Well, I won't." She added, in a hesitant murmur, "You +won't--misunderstand?" + +His look turned aside the long-lashed eyes and brought a faint flush of +pink to her cheeks. + +"No, I'll not do that," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +DAVE BECOMES AN OFFICE MAN + + +From Graham came a wire a week after the return of the oil expert to +Denver. It read: + +Report satisfactory. Can you come at once and arrange with me plan of +organization? + +Sanders was on the next train. He was still much needed at Malapi to look +after getting supplies and machinery and to arrange for a wagon train of +oil teams, but he dropped or delegated this work for the more important +call that had just come. + +His contact with Graham uncovered a new side of the state builder, one +that was to impress him in all the big business men he met. They might be +pleasant socially and bear him a friendly good-will, but when they met to +arrange details of a financial plan they always wanted their pound of +flesh. Graham drove a hard bargain with him. He tied the company fast by +legal control of its affairs until his debt was satisfied. He exacted a +bonus in the form of stock that fairly took the breath of the young man +with whom he was negotiating. Dave fought him round by round and found +the great man smooth and impervious as polished agate. + +Yet Dave liked him. When they met at lunch, as they did more than once, +the grizzled Westerner who had driven a line of steel across almost +impassable mountain passes was simple and frank in talk. He had taken +a fancy to this young fellow, and he let him know it. Perhaps he found +something of his own engaging, dogged youth in the strong-jawed +range-rider. + +"Does a financier always hogtie a proposition before he backs it?" Dave +asked him once with a sardonic gleam in his eye. + +"Always." + +"No matter how much he trusts the people he's doing business with?" + +"He binds them hard and fast just the same. It's the only way to do. Give +away as much money as you want to, but when you loan money look after +your security like a hawk." + +"Even when you're dealing with friends?" + +"Especially when you're dealing with friends," corrected the older man. +"Otherwise you're likely not to have your friends long." + +"Don't believe I want to be a financier," decided Sanders. + +"It takes the hot blood out of you," admitted Graham. "I'm not sure, if I +had my life to live over again, knowing what I know now, that I wouldn't +choose the outdoors like West and Crawford." + +Sanders was very sure which choice he would like to make. He was at +present embarked on the business of making money through oil, but some +day he meant to go back to the serenity of a ranch. There were times +when he left the conferences with Graham or his lieutenants sick at heart +because of the uphill battle he must fight to protect his associates. + +From Denver he went East to negotiate for some oil tanks and material +with which to construct reservoirs. His trip was a flying one. He +entrained for Malapi once more to look after the loose ends that had been +accumulating locally in his absence. A road had to be built across the +desert. Contracts must be let for hauling away the crude oil. A hundred +details waited his attention. + +He worked day and night. Often he slept only a few hours. He grew lean in +body and curt of speech. Lines came into his face that had not been there +before. But at his work apparently he was tireless as steel springs. + +Meanwhile Brad Steelman moled to undermine the company. Dave's men +finished building a bridge across a gulch late one day. It was blown +up into kindling wood by dynamite that night. Wagons broke down +unexpectedly. Shipments of supplies failed to arrive. Engines were +mysteriously smashed. + +The sabotage was skillful. Steelman's agents left no evidence that could +be used against them. More than one of them, Hart and Sanders agreed, +were spies who had found employment with the Jackpot. One or two men were +discharged on suspicion, even though complete evidence against them was +lacking. + +The responsibility that had been thrust on Dave brought out in him +unsuspected business capacity. During his prison days there had developed +in him a quality of leadership. He had been more than once in charge of a +road-building gang of convicts and had found that men naturally turned to +him for guidance. But not until Crawford shifted to his shoulders the +burdens of the Jackpot did he know that he had it in him to grapple with +organization on a fairly large scale. + +He worked without nerves, day in, day out, concentrating in a way that +brought results. He never let himself get impatient with details. +Thoroughness had long since become the habit of his life. To this he +added a sane common sense. + +Jackpot Number Four came in a good well, though not a phenomenal one +like its predecessor. Number Five was already halfway down to the sands. +Meanwhile the railroad crept nearer. Malapi was already talking of its +big celebration when the first engine should come to town. Its council +had voted to change the name of the place to Bonanza. + +The tide was turning against Steelman. He was still a very rich man, but +he seemed no longer to be a lucky one. He brought in a dry well. On +another location the cable had pulled out of the socket and a forty-foot +auger stem and bit lay at the bottom of a hole fifteen hundred feet deep. +His best producer was beginning to cough a weak and intermittent flow +even under steady pumping. And, to add to his troubles, a quiet little +man had dropped into town to investigate one of his companies. He was a +Government agent, and the rumor was that he was gathering evidence. + +Sanders met Thomas on the street. He had not seen him since the +prospector had made his wild ride for safety with the two outlaws hard +on his heels. + +"Glad you made it, Mr. Thomas," said Dave. "Good bit of strategy. When +they reached the notch, Shorty and Doble never once looked to see if we +were around. They lit out after you on the jump. Did they come close to +getting you?" + +"It looked like bullets would be flyin'. I won't say who would 'a' got +who if they had," he said modestly. "But I wasn't lookin' for no trouble. +I don't aim to be one of these here fire-eaters, but I'll fight like a +wildcat when I got to." The prospector looked defiantly at Sanders, +bristling like a bantam which has been challenged. + +"We certainly owe you something for the way you drew the outlaws off our +trail," Dave said gravely. + +"Say, have you heard how the Government is gettin' after Steelman? +He's a wily bird, old Brad is, but he slipped up when he sent out his +advertisin' for the Great Mogul. A photographer faked a gusher for him +and they sent it out on the circulars." + +Sanders nodded, without comment. + +"Steelman can make 'em flow, on paper anyhow," Thomas chortled. "But he's +sure in a kettle of hot water this time." + +"Mr. Steelman is enterprising," Dave admitted dryly. + +"Say, Mr. Sanders, have you heard what's become of Shorty and Doble?" the +prospector asked, lapsing to ill-concealed anxiety. "I see the sheriff +has got a handbill out offerin' a reward for their arrest and conviction. +You don't reckon those fellows would bear me any grudge, do you?" + +"No. But I wouldn't travel in the hills alone if I were you. If you +happened to meet them they might make things unpleasant." + +"They're both killers. I'm a peaceable citizen, as the fellow says. O' +course if they crowd me to the wall--" + +"They won't," Dave assured him. + +He knew that the outlaws, if the chance ever came for them, would strike +at higher game than Thomas. They would try to get either Crawford or +Sanders himself. The treasurer of the Jackpot did not fool himself with +any false promises of safety. The two men in the hills were desperate +characters, game as any in the country, gun-fighters, and they owed both +him and Crawford a debt they would spare no pains to settle in full. Some +day there would come an hour of accounting. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +ON THE DODGE + + +Up in the hills back of Bear Cañon two men were camping. They breakfasted +on slow elk, coffee, and flour-and-water biscuits. When they had +finished, they washed their tin dishes with sand in the running brook. + +"Might's well be hittin' the trail," one growled. + +The other nodded without speaking, rose lazily, and began to pack +the camp outfit. Presently, when he had arranged the load to his +satisfaction, he threw the diamond hitch and stood back to take a chew of +tobacco while he surveyed his work. He was a squat, heavy-set man with a +Chihuahua hat. Also he was a two-gun man. After a moment he circled an +arrowweed thicket and moved into the chaparral where his horse was +hobbled. + +The man who had spoken rose with one lithe twist of his big body. His +eyes, hard and narrow, watched the shorter man disappear in the brush. +Then he turned swiftly and strode toward the shoulder of the ridge. + +In the heavy undergrowth of dry weeds and grass he stopped and tested the +wind with a bandanna handkerchief. The breeze was steady and fairly +strong. It blew down the cañon toward the foothills beyond. + +The man stripped from a scrub oak a handful of leaves. They were very +brittle and crumbled in his hand. A match flared out. His palm cupped it +for a moment to steady the blaze before he touched it to the crisp +foliage. Into a nest of twigs he thrust the small flame. The twigs, dry +as powder from a four-months' drought, crackled like miniature fireworks. +The grass caught, and a small line of fire ran quickly out. + +The man rose. On his brown face was an evil smile, in his hard eyes +something malevolent and sinister. The wind would do the rest. + +He walked back toward the camp. At the shoulder crest he turned to look +back. From out of the chaparral a thin column of pale gray smoke was +rising. + +His companion stamped out the remains of the breakfast fire and threw +dirt on the ashes to make sure no live ember could escape in the wind. +Then he swung to the saddle. + +"Ready, Dug?" he asked. + +The big man growled an assent and followed him over the summit into the +valley beyond. + +"Country needs a rain bad," the man in the Chihuahua hat commented. +"Don't know as I recollect a dryer season." + +The big hawk-nosed man by his side cackled in his throat with short, +splenetic mirth. "It'll be some dryer before the rains," he prophesied. + +They climbed out of the valley to the rim. The short man was bringing up +the rear along the narrow trail-ribbon. He turned in the saddle to look +back, a hand on his horse's rump. Perhaps he did this because of the +power of suggestion. Several times Doble had already swung his head to +scan with a searching gaze the other side of the valley. + +Mackerel clouds were floating near the horizon in a sky of blue. Was that +or was it not smoke just over the brow of the hill? + +"Cayn't be our camp-fire," the squat man said aloud. "I smothered that +proper." + +"Them's clouds," pronounced Doble quickly. "Clouds an' some mist risin' +from the gulch." + +"I reckon," agreed the other, with no sure conviction. Doble must be +right, of course. No fire had been in evidence when they left the +camping-ground, and he was sure he had stamped out the one that had +cooked the biscuits. Yet that stringy gray film certainly looked like +smoke. He hung in the wind, half of a mind to go back and make sure. Fire +in the chaparral now might do untold damage. + +Shorty looked at Doble. "If tha's fire, Dug--" + +"It ain't. No chance," snapped the ex-foreman. "We'll travel if you don't +feel called on to go back an' stomp out the mist, Shorty," he added with +sarcasm. + +The cowpuncher took the trail again. Like many men, he was not proof +against a sneer. Dug was probably right, Shorty decided, and he did not +want to make a fool of himself. Doble would ride him with heavy jeers all +day. + +An hour later they rested their horses on the divide. To the west lay +Malapi and the plains. Eastward were the heaven-pricking peaks. A long, +bright line zig-zagged across the desert and reflected the sun rays. It +was the bed of the new road already spiked with shining rails. + +"I'm goin' to town," announced Doble. + +Shorty looked at him in surprise. "Wanta see yore picture, I reckon. It's +on a heap of telegraph poles, I been told," he said, grinning. + +"To-day," went on the ex-foreman stubbornly. + +"Big, raw-boned guy, hook nose, leather face, never took no prize as a +lady's man, a wildcat in a rough-house, an' sudden death on the draw," +extemporized the rustler, presumably from his conception of the reward +poster. + +"I'll lie in the chaparral till night an' ride in after dark." + +With the impulsiveness of his kind, Shorty fell in with the idea. He was +hungry for the fleshpots of Malapi. If they dropped in late at night, +stayed a few hours, and kept under cover, they could probably slip out of +town undetected. The recklessness of his nature found an appeal in the +danger. + +"Damfidon't trail along, Dug." + +"Yore say-so about that." + +"Like to see my own picture on the poles. Sawed-off li'l runt. Straight +black hair. Some bowlegged. Wears two guns real low. Doncha monkey with +him onless you're hell-a-mile with a six-shooter. One thousand dollars +reward for arrest and conviction. Same for the big guy." + +"Fellow that gets one o' them rewards will earn it," said Doble grimly. + +"Goes double," agreed Shorty. "He'll earn it even if he don't live to +spend it. Which he's liable not to." + +They headed their horses to the west. As they drew down from the +mountains they left the trail and took to the brush. They wound in and +out among the mesquite and the cactus, bearing gradually to the north and +into the foothills above the town. When they reached Frio Cañon they +swung off into a timbered pocket debouching from it. Here they unsaddled +and lay down to wait for night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +A PLEASANT EVENING + + +Brad Steelman sat hunched before a fire of piñon knots, head drooped low +between his high, narrow shoulders. The restless black eyes in the dark +hatchet face were sunk deeper now than in the old days. In them was +beginning to come the hunted look of the gray wolf he resembled. His +nerves were not what they had been, and even in his youth they were not +of the best. He had a way of looking back furtively over his shoulder, +as though some sinister shadow were creeping toward him out of the +darkness. + +Three taps on the window brought his head up with a jerk. His lax fingers +crept to the butt of a Colt's revolver. He waited, listening. + +The taps were repeated. + +Steelman sidled to the door and opened it cautiously. A man pushed in and +closed the door. He looked at the sheepman and he laughed shortly in an +ugly, jeering way. + +"Scared, Brad?" + +The host moistened his lips. "What of, Dug?" + +"Don't ask me," said the big man scornfully. "You always had about as +much sand in yore craw as a rabbit." + +"Did you come here to make trouble, Dug?" + +"No, I came to collect a bill." + +"So? Didn't know I owed you any money right now. How much is it?" + +Steelman, as the leader of his gang, was used to levies upon his purse +when his followers had gone broke. He judged that he would have to let +Doble have about twenty-five dollars now. + +"A thousand dollars." + +Brad shot a quick, sidelong look at him. "Wha's wrong now, Dug?" + +The ex-foreman of the D Bar Lazy R took his time to answer. He enjoyed +the suspense under which his ally was held. "Why, I reckon nothin' +a-tall. Only that this mo'nin' I put a match to about a coupla hundred +thousand dollars belongin' to Crawford, Sanders, and Hart." + +Eagerly Steelman clutched his arm. "You did it, then?" + +"Didn't I say I'd do it?" snapped Doble irritably. "D'ya ever know me rue +back on a bargain?" + +"Never." + +"Wha's more, you never will. I fired the chaparral above Bear Cañon. The +wind was right. Inside of twenty-four hours the Jackpot locations will go +up in smoke. Derricks, pumps, shacks, an' oil; the whole caboodle's +doomed sure as I'm a foot high." + +The face of the older man looked more wolfish than ever. He rubbed his +hands together, washing one over the other so that each in turn was +massaged. "Hell's bells! I'm sure glad to hear it. Fire got a good start, +you say?" + +"I tell you the whole country'll go up like powder." + +If Steelman had not just reached Malapi from a visit to one of his sheep +camps he would have known, what everybody else in town knew by this time, +that the range for fifty miles was in danger and that hundreds of +volunteers were out fighting the menace. + +His eyes glistened. "I'll not wear mournin' none if it does just that." + +"I'm tellin' you what it'll do," Doble insisted dogmatically. + +"Shorty with you?" + +"He was, an' he wasn't. I did it while he wasn't lookin'. He was saddlin' +his horse in the brush. Don't make any breaks to him. Shorty's got a soft +spot in him. Game enough, but with queer notions. Some time I'm liable to +have to--" Doble left his sentence suspended in air, but Steelman, +looking into his bleak eyes, knew what the man meant. + +"What's wrong with him now, Dug?" + +"Well, he's been wrong ever since I had to bump off Tim Harrigan. Talks +about a fair break. As if I had a chance to let the old man get to a gun. +No, I'm not so awful sure of Shorty." + +"Better watch him. If you see him make any false moves--" + +Doble watched him with a taunting, scornful eye. + +"What'll I do?" + +The other man's gaze fell. "Why, you got to protect yoreself, Dug, ain't +you?" + +"How?" + +The narrow shoulders lifted. For a moment the small black eyes met those +of the big man. + +"Whatever way seems best to you, Dug," murmured Steelman evasively. + +Doble slapped his dusty hat against his thigh. He laughed, without mirth +or geniality. "If you don't beat Old Nick, Brad. I wonder was you ever +out an' out straightforward in yore life. Just once?" + +"I don't reckon you sure enough feel that way, Dug," whined the older man +ingratiatingly. "Far as that goes, I'm not making any claims that I love +my enemies. But you can't say I throw off on my friends. You always know +where I'm at." + +"Sure I know," retorted Doble bluntly. "You're on the inside of a heap of +rotten deals. So am I. But I admit it and you won't." + +"Well, I don't look at it that way, but there's no use arguin'. What +about that fire? Sure it got a good start?" + +"I looked back from across the valley. It was travelin' good." + +"If the wind don't change, it will sure do a lot of damage to the +Jackpot. Liable to spoil some of Crawford's range too." + +"I'll take that thousand in cash, Brad," the big man said, letting +himself down into the easiest chair he could find and rolling a +cigarette. + +"Soon as I know it did the work, Dug." + +"I'm here tellin' you it will make a clean-up." + +"We'll know by mornin'. I haven't got the money with me anyhow. It's in +the bank." + +"Get it soon as you can. I expect to light out again pronto. This town's +onhealthy for me." + +"Where will you stay?" asked Brad. + +"With my friend Steelman," jeered Doble. "His invitation is so hearty I +just can't refuse him." + +"You'd be safer somewhere else," said the owner of the house after a +pause. + +"We'll risk that, me 'n' you both, for if I'm taken it's liable to be bad +luck for you too.... Gimme something to eat and drink." + +Steelman found a bottle of whiskey and a glass, then foraged for food in +the kitchen. He returned with the shank of a ham and a loaf of bread. His +fear was ill-disguised. The presence of the outlaw, if discovered, would +bring him trouble; and Doble was so unruly he might out of sheer ennui or +bravado let it be known he was there. + +"I'll get you the money first thing in the mornin'," promised Steelman. + +Doble poured himself a large drink and took it at a swallow. "I would, +Brad." + +"No use you puttin' yoreself in unnecessary danger." + +"Or you. Don't hand me my hat, Brad. I'll go when I'm ready." + +Doble drank steadily throughout the night. He was the kind of drinker +that can take an incredible amount of liquor without becoming helpless. +He remained steady on his feet, growing uglier and more reckless every +hour. + +Tied to Doble because he dared not break away from him, Steelman's busy +brain began to plot a way to take advantage of this man's weakness for +liquor. He sat across the table from him and adroitly stirred up his +hatred of Crawford and Sanders. He raked up every grudge his guest had +against the two men, calling to his mind how they had beaten him at every +turn. + +"O' course I know, Dug, you're a better man than Sanders or Crawford +either, but Malapi don't know it--yet. Down at the Gusher I hear they +laugh about that trick he played on you blowin' up the dam. Luck, I call +it, but--" + +"Laugh, do they?" growled the big man savagely. "I'd like to hear some o' +that laughin'." + +"Say this Sanders is a wonder; that nobody's got a chance against him. +That's the talk goin' round. I said any day in the week you had him beat +a mile, and they gave me the laugh." + +"I'll show 'em!" cried the enraged bully with a furious oath. + +"I'll bet you do. No man livin' can make a fool outa Dug Doble, rustle +the evidence to send him to the pen, snap his fingers at him, and on top +o' that steal his girl. That's what I told--" + +Doble leaned across the table and caught in his great fist the wrist of +Steelman. His bloodshot eyes glared into those of the man opposite. "What +girl?" he demanded hoarsely. + +Steelman looked blandly innocent. "Didn't you know, Dug? Maybe I ought +n't to 'a' mentioned it." + +Fingers like ropes of steel tightened on the wrist, Brad screamed. + +"Don't do that, Dug! You're killin' me! Ouch! Em Crawford's girl." + +"What about her and Sanders?" + +"Why, he's courtin' her--treatin' her to ice-cream, goin' walkin' with +her. Didn't you know?" + +"When did he begin?" Doble slammed a hamlike fist on the table. "Spit it +out, or I'll tear yore arm off." + +Steelman told all he knew and a good deal more. He invented details +calculated to infuriate his confederate, to inflame his jealousy. The big +man sat with jaw clamped, the muscles knotted like ropes on his leathery +face. He was a volcano of outraged vanity and furious hate, seething with +fires ready to erupt. + +"Some folks say it's Hart she's engaged to," purred the hatchet-faced +tempter. "Maybeso. Looks to me like she's throwin' down Hart for this +convict. Expect she sees he's gonna be a big man some day." + +"Big man! Who says so?" exploded Doble. + +"That's the word, Dug. I reckon you've heard how the Governor of Colorado +pardoned him. This town's crazy about Sanders. Claims he was framed for +the penitentiary. Right now he could be elected to any office he went +after." Steelman's restless black eyes watched furtively the effect of +his taunting on this man, a victim of wild and uncurbed passions. He was +egging him on to a rage that would throw away all caution and all +scruples. + +"He'll never live to run for office!" the cattleman cried hoarsely. + +"They talk him for sheriff. Say Applegate's no good--too easy-going. Say +Sanders'll round up you an' Shorty pronto when he's given authority." + +Doble ripped out a wild and explosive oath. He knew this man was playing +on his vanity, jealousy, and hatred for some purpose not yet apparent, +but he found it impossible to close his mind to the whisperings of the +plotter. He welcomed the spur of Steelman's two-edged tongue because he +wanted to have his purpose of vengeance fed. + +"Sanders never saw the day he could take me, dead or alive. I'll meet him +any time, any way, an' when I turn my back on him he'll be ready for the +coroner." + +"I believe you, Dug. No need to tell me you're not afraid of him, for--" + +"Afraid of him!" bellowed Doble, eyes like live coals. "Say that again +an' I'll twist yore head off." + +Steelman did not say it again. He pushed the bottle toward his guest and +said other things. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +FIRE IN THE CHAPARRAL + + +A carpenter working on the roof of a derrick for Jackpot Number Six +called down to his mates: + +"Fire in the hills, looks like. I see smoke." + +The contractor was an old-timer. He knew the danger of fire in the +chaparral at this season of the year. + +"Run over to Number Four and tell Crawford," he said to his small son. + +Crawford and Hart had just driven out from town. + +"I'll shag up the tower and have a look," the younger man said. + +He had with him no field-glasses, but his eyes were trained to +long-distance work. Years in the saddle on the range had made him an +expert at reading such news as the landscape had written on it. + +"Fire in Bear Cañon!" he shouted down. "Quite a bit of smoke risin'." + +"I'll ride right up and look it over," the cattleman called back. "Better +get a gang together to fight it, Bob. Hike up soon as you're ready." + +Crawford borrowed without permission of the owner the nearest saddle +horse and put it to a lope. Five minutes might make all the difference +between a winning and a losing fight. + +From the tower Hart descended swiftly. He gathered together all the +carpenters, drillers, enginemen, and tool dressers in the vicinity and +equipped them with shovels, picks, brush-hooks, saws, and axes. To each +one he gave also a gunnysack. + +The foot party followed Crawford into the chaparral, making for the hills +that led to Bear Cañon. A wind was stirring, and as they topped a rise it +struck hot on their cheeks. A flake of ash fell on Bob's hand. + +Crawford met them at the mouth of the cañon. + +"She's rip-r'arin', Bob! Got too big a start to beat out. We'll clear a +fire-break where the gulch narrows just above here and do our fightin' +there." + +The sparks of a thousand rockets, flung high by the wind, were swept down +the gulch toward them. Behind these came a curtain of black smoke. + +The cattleman set his crew to work clearing a wide trail across the gorge +from wall to wall. The undergrowth was heavy, and the men attacked with +brush-hooks, shovels, and axes. One man, with a wet gunnysack, was +detailed to see that no flying sparks started a new blaze below the +safety zone. The shovelers and grubbers cleared the grass and roots off +to the dirt for a belt of twenty feet. They banked the loose dirt at the +lower edge to catch flying firebrands. Meanwhile the breath of the +furnace grew to a steady heat on their faces. Flame spurts had leaped +forward to a grove of small alders and almost in a minute the branches +were crackling like fireworks. + +"I'll scout round over the hill and have a look above," Bob said. "We've +got to keep it from spreading out of the gulch." + +"Take the horse," Crawford called to him. + +One good thing was that the fire was coming down the cañon. A downhill +blaze moves less rapidly than one running up. + +Runners of flame, crawling like snakes among the brush, struck out at the +fighters venomously and tried to leap the trench. The defenders flailed +at these with the wet gunnysacks. + +The wind was stiffer now and the fury of the fire closer. The flames +roared down the cañon like a blast furnace. Driven back by the intense +heat, the men retreated across the break and clung to their line. Already +their lungs were sore from inhaling smoke and their throats were +inflamed. A pine, its pitchy trunk ablaze, crashed down across the +fire-trail and caught in the fork of a tree beyond. Instantly the foliage +leaped to red flame. + +Crawford, axe in hand, began to chop the trunk and a big Swede swung an +axe powerfully on the opposite side. The rest of the crew continued to +beat down the fires that started below the break. The chips flew at each +rhythmic stroke of the keen blades. Presently the tree crashed down into +the trail that had been hewn. It served as a conductor, and along it +tongues of fire leaped into the brush beyond. Glowing branches, flung by +the wind and hurled from falling timber, buried themselves in the dry +undergrowth. Before one blaze was crushed half a dozen others started in +its place. Flails and gunnysacks beat these down and smothered them. + +Bob galloped into the cañon and flung himself from the horse as he pulled +it up in its stride. + +"She's jumpin' outa the gulch above. Too late to head her off. We better +get scrapers up and run a trail along the top o' the ridge, don't you +reckon?" he said. + +"Yes, son," agreed Crawford. "We can just about hold her here. It'll be +hours before I can spare a man for the ridge. We got to get help in a +hurry. You ride to town and rustle men. Bring out plenty of dynamite +and gunnysacks. Lucky we got the tools out here we brought to build the +sump holes." + +"Betcha! We'll need a lot o' grub, too." + +The cattleman nodded agreement. "And coffee. Cayn't have too much coffee. +It's food and drink and helps keep the men awake." + +"I'll remember." + +"And for the love o' Heaven, don't forget canteens! Get every canteen in +town. Cayn't have my men runnin' around with their tongues hangin' out. +Better bring out a bunch of broncs to pack supplies around. It's goin' to +be one man-sized contract runnin' the commissary." + +The cañon above them was by this time a sea of fire, the most terrifying +sight Bob had ever looked upon. Monster flames leaped at the walls of the +gulch, swept in an eyebeat over draws, attacked with a savage roar the +dry vegetation. The noise was like the crash of mountains meeting. +Thunder could scarce have made itself heard. + +Rocks, loosened by the heat, tore down the steep incline of the walls, +sometimes singly, sometimes in slides. These hit the bed of the ravine +with the force of a cannon-ball. The workers had to keep a sharp lookout +for these. + +A man near Bob was standing with his weight on the shovel he had been +using. Hart gave a shout of warning. At the same moment a large rock +struck the handle and snapped it off as though it had been kindling wood. +The man wrung his hands and almost wept with the pain. + +A cottontail ran squealing past them, driven from its home by this new +and deadly enemy. Not far away a rattlesnake slid across the hot rocks. +Their common fear of man was lost in a greater and more immediate one. + +Hart did not like to leave the battle-field. "Lemme stay here. You can +handle that end of the job better'n me, Mr. Crawford." + +The old cattleman, his face streaked with black, looked at him from +bloodshot eyes. "Where do you get that notion I'll quit a job I've +started, son? You hit the trail. The sooner the quicker." + +The young man wasted no more words. He swung to the saddle and rode for +town faster than he had ever traveled in all his hard-riding days. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +FIGHTING FIRE + + +Sanders was in the office of the Jackpot Company looking over some +blue-prints when Joyce Crawford came in and inquired where her father +was. + +"He went out with Bob Hart to the oil field this morning. Some trouble +with the casing." + +"Thought Dad wasn't giving any of his time to oil these days," she said. +"He told me you and Bob were running the company." + +"Every once in a while he takes an interest. I prod him up to go out and +look things over occasionally. He's president of the company, and I tell +him he ought to know what's going on. So to-day he's out there." + +"Oh!" Miss Joyce, having learned what she had come in to find out, might +reasonably have departed. She declined a chair, said she must be going, +yet did not go. Her eyes appeared to study without seeing a field map on +the desk. "Dad told me something last night, Mr. Sanders. He said I might +pass it on to you and Bob, though it isn't to go farther. It's about that +ten thousand dollars he paid the bank when it called his loan. He got the +money from Buck Byington." + +"Buck!" exclaimed the young man. He was thinking that the Buck he used to +know never had ten dollars saved, let alone ten thousand. + +"I know," she explained. "That's it. The money wasn't his. He's executor +or something for the children of his dead brother. This money had come in +from the sale of a farm back in Iowa and he was waiting for an order of +the court for permission to invest it in a mortgage. When he heard Dad +was so desperately hard up for cash he let him have the money. He knew +Dad would pay it back, but it seems what he did was against the law, even +though Dad gave him his note and a chattel mortgage on some cattle which +Buck wasn't to record. Now it has been straightened out. That's why Dad +couldn't tell where he got the money. Buck would have been in trouble." + +"I see." + +"But now it's all right." Joyce changed the subject. There were teasing +pinpoints of mischief in her eyes. "My school physiology used to say that +sleep was restful. It builds up worn-out tissue and all. One of these +nights, when you can find time, give it a trial and see whether that's +true." + +Dave laughed. The mother in this young woman would persistently out. "I +get plenty of sleep, Miss Joyce. Most people sleep too much." + +"How much do you sleep?" + +"Sometimes more, sometimes less. I average six or seven hours, maybe." + +"Maybe," she scoffed. + +"Hard work doesn't hurt men. Not when they're young and strong." + +"I hear you're trying to work yourself to death, sir," the girl charged, +smiling. + +"Not so bad as that." He answered her smile with another for no reason +except that the world was a sunshiny one when he looked at this trim and +dainty young woman. "The work gets fascinating. A fellow likes to get +things done. There's a satisfaction in turning out a full day and in +feeling you get results." + +She nodded sagely, in a brisk, business-like way. "I know. Felt it myself +often, but we have to remember that there are other days and other people +to lend a hand. None of us can do it all. Dad thinks you overdo. So he +told me to ask you to supper for to-morrow night. Bob will be there too." + +"I say thanks, Miss Joyce, to your father and his daughter." + +"Which means you'll be with us to-morrow." + +"I'll be with you." + +But he was not. Even as he made the promise a shadow darkened the +doorsill and Bob Hart stepped into the office. + +His first words were ominous, but before he spoke both of those looking +at him knew he was the bearer of bad news. There was in his boyish face +an unwonted gravity. + +"Fire in the chaparral, Dave, and going strong." + +Sanders spoke one word. "Where?" + +"Started in Bear Cañon, but it's jumped out into the hills." + +"The wind must be driving it down toward the Jackpot!" + +"Yep. Like a scared rabbit. Crawford's trying to hold the mouth of the +cañon. He's got a man's job down there. Can't spare a soul to keep it +from scootin' over the hills." + +Dave rose. "I'll gather a bunch of men and ride right out. On what side +of the cañon is the fire running?" + +"East side. Stop at the wells and get tools. I got to rustle dynamite and +men. Be out soon as I can." + +They spoke quietly, quickly, decisively, as men of action do in a crisis. + +Joyce guessed the situation was a desperate one. "Is Dad in danger?" she +asked. + +Hart answered. "No--not now, anyhow." + +"What can I do to help?" + +"We'll have hundreds of men in the field probably, if this fire has a +real start," Dave told her. "We'll need food and coffee--lots of it. +Organize the women. Make meat sandwiches--hundreds of them. And send +out to the Jackpot dozens of coffee-pots. Your job is to keep the workers +well fed. Better send out bandages and salve, in case some get burnt." + +Her eyes were shining. "I'll see to all that. Don't worry, boys. You +fight this fire, and we women will 'tend to feeding you." + +Dave nodded and strode out of the room. During the fierce and dreadful +days that followed one memory more than once came to him in the fury of +the battle. It was a slim, straight girl looking at him, the call to +service stamped on her brave, uplifted face. + +Sanders was on the road inside of twenty minutes, a group of horsemen +galloping at his heels. At the Jackpot locations the fire-fighters +equipped themselves with shovels, sacks, axes, and brush-hooks. The +party, still on horseback, rode up to the mouth of Bear Cañon. Through +the smoke the sun was blood-red. The air was heavy and heated. + +From the fire line Crawford came to meet these new allies. "We're holdin' +her here. It's been nip an' tuck. Once I thought sure she'd break +through, but we beat out the blaze. I hadn't time to go look, but I +expect she's just a-r'arin' over the hills. I've had some teams and +scrapers taken up there, Dave. It's yore job. Go to it." + +The old cattleman showed that he had been through a fight. His eyes were +red and inflamed, his face streaked with black, one arm of his shirt half +torn from the shoulder. But he wore the grim look of a man who has just +begun to set himself for a struggle. + +The horsemen swung to the east and rode up to the mesa which lies between +Bear and Cattle Cañons. It was impossible to get near Bear, since the +imprisoned fury had burst from its walls and was sweeping the chaparral. +The line of fire was running along the level in an irregular, ragged +front, red tongues leaping ahead with short, furious rushes. + +Even before he could spend time to determine the extent of the fire, Dave +selected his line of defense, a ridge of rocky, higher ground cutting +across from one gulch to the other. Here he set teams to work scraping +a fire-break, while men assisted with shovels and brush-hooks to clear +a wide path. + +Dave swung still farther east and rode along the edge of Cattle Cañon. +Narrow and rock-lined, the gorge was like a boiler flue to suck the +flames down it. From where he sat he saw it caging with inconceivable +fury. The earth rift seemed to be roofed with flame. Great billows +of black smoke poured out laden with sparks and live coals carried by the +wind. It was plain at the first glance that the fire was bound to leap +from the cañon to the brush-covered hills beyond. His business now was +to hold the ridge he had chosen and fight back the flames to keep them +from pouring down upon the Jackpot property. Later the battle would have +to be fought to hold the line at San Jacinto Cañon and the hills running +down from it to the plains. + +The surface fire on the hills licked up the brush, mesquite, and young +cedars with amazing rapidity. If his trail-break was built in time, Dave +meant to back-fire above it. Steve Russell was one of his party. Sanders +appointed him lieutenant and went over the ground with him to decide +exactly where the clearing should run, after which he galloped back to +the mouth of Bear. + +"She's running wild on the hills and in Cattle Cañon," Dave told +Crawford. "She'll sure jump Cattle and reach San Jacinto. We've got to +hold the mouth of Cattle, build a trail between Bear and Cattle, another +between Cattle and San Jacinto, cork her up in San Jacinto, and keep her +from jumping to the hills beyond." + +"Can we back-fire, do you reckon?" + +"Not with the wind there is above, unless we have check-trails built +first. We need several hundred more men, and we need them right away. I +never saw such a fire before." + +"Well, get yore trail built. Bob oughtta be out soon. I'll put him over +between Cattle and San Jacinto. Three-four men can hold her here now. +I'll move my outfit over to the mouth of Cattle." + +The cattleman spoke crisply and decisively. He had been fighting fire for +six hours without a moment's rest, swallowing smoke-filled air, enduring +the blistering heat that poured steadily at them down the gorge. At least +two of his men were lying down completely exhausted, but he contemplated +another such desperate battle without turning a hair. All his days he had +been a good fighter, and it never occurred to him to quit now. + +Sanders rode up as close to the west edge of Bear Cañon as he could +endure. In two or three places the flames had jumped the wall and were +trying to make headway in the scant underbrush of the rocky slope +that led to a hogback surmounted by a bare rimrock running to the summit. +This natural barrier would block the fire on the west, just as the +burnt-over area would protect the north. For the present at least the +fire-fighters could confine their efforts to the south and east, where +the spread of the blaze would involve the Jackpot. A shift in the wind +would change the situation, and if it came in time would probably save +the oil property. + +Dave put his horse to a lope and rode back to the trench and trail his +men were building. He found a shovel and joined them. + +From out of Cattle Cañon billows of smoke rolled across the hill and +settled into a black blanket above the men. This was acrid from the +resinous pitch of the pines. The wind caught the dark pall, drove it low, +and held it there till the workers could hardly breathe. The sun was +under entire eclipse behind the smoke screen. + +The heat of the flames tortured Dave's face and hands, just as the +smoke-filled air inflamed his nostrils and throat. Coals of fire pelted +him from the river of flame, carried by the strong breeze blowing down. +From the cañons on either side of the workers came a steady roar of a +world afire. Occasionally, at some slight shift of the wind, the smoke +lifted and they could see the moving wall of fire bearing down upon them, +wedges of it far ahead of the main line. + +The movements of the workers became automatic. The teams had to be +removed because the horses had become unmanageable under the torture of +the heat. When any one spoke it was in a hoarse whisper because of a +swollen larynx. Mechanically they dug, shoveled, grubbed, handkerchiefs +over their faces to protect from the furnace glow. + +A deer with two fawns emerged from the smoke and flew past on the way to +safety. Mice, snakes, rabbits, birds, and other desert denizens appeared +in mad flight. They paid no attention whatever to their natural foe, man. +The terror of the red monster at their heels wholly obsessed them. + +The fire-break was from fifteen to twenty feet wide. The men retreated +back of it, driven by the heat, and fought with wet sacks to hold the +enemy. A flash of lightning was hurled against Dave. It was a red-hot +limb of a pine, tossed out of the gorge by the stiff wind. He flung it +from him and tore the burning shirt from his chest. An agony of pain shot +through his shoulder, seared for half a foot by the blazing branch. + +He had no time to attend to the burn then. The fire had leaped the +check-trail at a dozen points. With his men he tried to smother the +flames in the grass by using saddle blankets and gunnysacks, as well +as by shoveling sand upon it. Sometimes they cut down the smouldering +brush and flung it back across the break into the inferno on the other +side. Blinded and strangling from the smoke, the fire-fighters would make +short rushes into the clearer air, swallow a breath or two of it, and +plunge once more into the line to do battle with the foe. + +For hours the desperate battle went on. Dave lost count of time. One +after another of his men retreated to rest. After a time they drifted +back to help make the defense good against the plunging fire devil. +Sanders alone refused to retire. His parched eyebrows were half gone. +His clothes hung about him in shredded rags. He was so exhausted that he +could hardly wield a flail. His legs dragged and his arms hung heavy. But +he would not give up even for an hour. Through the confused, shifting +darkness of the night he led his band, silhouetted on the ridge like +gnomes of the nether world, to attack after attack on the tireless, +creeping, plunging flames that leaped the trench in a hundred desperate +assaults, that howled and hissed and roared like ravenous beasts of prey. + +Before the light of day broke he knew that he had won. His men had made +good the check-trail that held back the fire in the terrain between Bear +and Cattle Cañons. The fire, worn out and beaten, fell back for lack of +fuel upon which to feed. + +Reinforcements came from town. Dave left the trail in charge of a deputy +and staggered down with his men to the camp that had been improvised +below. He sat down with them and swallowed coffee and ate sandwiches. +Steve Russell dressed his burn with salve and bandages sent out by Joyce. + +"Me for the hay, Dave," the cowpuncher said when he had finished. He +stretched himself in a long, tired, luxurious yawn. "I've rid out a +blizzard and I've gathered cattle after a stampede till I 'most thought +I'd drop outa the saddle. But I give it to this here li'l' fire. It's +sure enough a stemwinder. I'm beat. So long, pardner." + +Russell went off to roll himself up in his blanket. + +Dave envied him, but he could not do the same. His responsibilities were +not ended yet. He found his horse in the remuda, saddled, and rode over +to the entrance to Cattle Cañon. + +Emerson Crawford was holding his ground, though barely holding it. He too +was grimy, fire-blackened, exhausted, but he was still fighting to throw +back the fire that swept down the cañon at him. + +"How are things up above?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. + +"Good. We held the check-line." + +"Same here so far. It's been hell. Several of my boys fainted." + +"I'll take charge awhile. You go and get some sleep," urged Sanders. + +The cattleman shook his head. "No. See it through. Say, son, look who's +here!" His thumb hitched toward his right shoulder. + +Dave looked down the line of blackened, grimy fire-fighters and his eye +fell on Shorty. He was still wearing chaps, but his Chihuahua hat had +succumbed long ago. Manifestly the man had been on the fighting line for +some hours. + +"Doesn't he know about the reward?" + +"Yes. He was hidin' in Malapi when the call came for men. Says he's no +quitter, whatever else he is. You bet he ain't. He's worth two of most +men at this work. Soon as we get through he'll be on the dodge again, I +reckon, unless Applegate gets him first. He's a good sport, anyhow. I'll +say that for him." + +"I reckon I'm a bad citizen, sir, but I hope he makes his getaway before +Applegate shows up." + +"Well, he's one tough scalawag, but I don't aim to give him away right +now. Shorty is a whole lot better proposition than Dug Doble." + +Dave came back to the order of the day. "What do you want me to do now?" + +The cattleman looked him over. "You damaged much?" + +"No." + +"Burnt in the shoulder, I see." + +"Won't keep me from swinging a sack and bossing a gang." + +"Wore out, I reckon?" + +"I feel fine since breakfast--took two cups of strong coffee." + +Again Crawford's eyes traveled over his ally. They saw a ragged, red-eyed +tramp, face and hands and arms blackened with char and grimed with smoke. +Outside, he was such a specimen of humanity as the police would have +arrested promptly on suspicion. But the shrewd eyes of the cattleman saw +more--a spirit indomitable that would drive the weary, tormented body +till it dropped in its tracks, a quality of leadership that was a trumpet +call to the men who served with him, a soul master of its infirmities. +His heart went out to the young fellow. Wherefore he grinned and gave him +another job. Strong men to-day were at a premium with Emerson Crawford. + +"Ride over and see how Bob's comin' out. We'll make it here." + +Sanders swung to the saddle and moved forward to the next fire front, +the one between Cattle and San Jacinto Cañons. Hart himself was not here. +There had come a call for help from the man in charge of the gang trying +to hold the fire in San Jacinto. He had answered that summons long before +daybreak and had not yet returned. + +The situation on the Cattle-San Jacinto front was not encouraging. The +distance to be protected was nearly a mile. Part of the way was along a +ridge fairly easy to defend, but a good deal of it lay in lower land of +timber and heavy brush. + +Dave rode along the front, studying the contour of the country and the +chance of defending it. His judgment was that it could not be done with +the men on hand. He was not sure that the line could be held even with +reinforcements. But there was nothing for it but to try. He sent a man to +Crawford, urging him to get help to him as soon as possible. + +Then he took command of the crew already in the field, rearranged the men +so as to put the larger part of his force in the most dangerous locality, +and in default of a sack seized a spreading branch as a flail to beat out +fire in the high grass close to San Jacinto. + +An hour later half a dozen straggling men reported for duty. Shorty was +one of them. + +"The ol' man cayn't spare any more," the rustler explained. "He had to +hustle Steve and his gang outa their blankets to go help Bob Hart. They +say Hart's in a heluva bad way. The fire's jumped the trail-check and +is spreadin' over the country. He's runnin' another trail farther back." + +It occurred to Dave that if the wind changed suddenly and heightened, it +would sweep a back-fire round him and cut off the retreat of his crew. He +sent a weary lad back to keep watch on it and report any change of +direction in that vicinity. + +After which he forgot all about chances of danger from the rear. His +hands and mind were more than busy trying to drive back the snarling, +ravenous beast in front of him. He might have found time to take other +precautions if he had known that the exhausted boy sent to watch against +a back-fire had, with the coming of night, fallen asleep in a draw. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +SHORTY ASKS A QUESTION + + +When Shorty separated from Doble in Frio Cañon he rode inconspicuously to +a tendejon where he could be snugly hidden from the public gaze and yet +meet a few "pals" whom he could trust at least as long as he could keep +his eyes on them. His intention was to have a good time in the only way +he knew how. Another purpose was coupled with this; he was not going to +drink enough to interfere with reasonable caution. + +Shorty's dissipated pleasures were interfered with shortly after +midnight. A Mexican came in to the drinking-place with news. The world +was on fire, at least that part of it which interested the cattlemen of +the Malapi district. The blaze had started back of Bear Cañon and had +been swept by the wind across to Cattle and San Jacinto. The oil field +adjacent had been licked up and every reservoir and sump was in flames. +The whole range would probably be wiped out before the fire spent itself +for lack of fuel. Crawford had posted a rider to town calling for more +man power to build trails and wield flails. This was the sum of the news. +It was not strictly accurate, but it served to rouse Shorty at once. + +He rose and touched the Mexican on the arm. "Where you say that fire +started, Pedro?" + +"Bear Cañon, señor." + +"And it's crossed San Jacinto?" + +"Like wildfire." The slim vaquero made a gesture all-inclusive. "It runs, +señor, like a frightened jackrabbit. Nothing will stop it--nothing. It +iss sent by heaven for a punishment." + +"Hmp!" Shorty grunted. + +The rustler fell into a somber silence. He drank no more. The dark-lashed +eyes of the Mexican girls slanted his way in vain. He stared sullenly at +the table in front of him. A problem had pushed itself into his +consciousness, one he could not brush aside or ignore. + +If the fire had started back of Bear Cañon, what agency had set it going? +He and Doble had camped last night at that very spot. If there had been a +fire there during the night he must have known it. Then when had the fire +started? And how? They had seen the faint smoke of it as they rode away, +the filmy smoke of a young fire not yet under much headway. Was it +reasonable to suppose that some one else had been camping close to them? +This was possible, but not likely. For they would probably have seen +signs of the other evening camp-fire. + +Eliminating this possibility, there remained--Dug Doble. Had Dug fired +the brush while his companion was saddling for the start? The more Shorty +considered this possibility, the greater force it acquired in his mind. +Dug's hatred of Crawford, Hart, and especially Sanders would be satiated +in part at least if he could wipe their oil bonanza from the map. The +wind had been right. Doble was no fool. He knew that if the fire ran wild +in the chaparral only a miracle could save the Jackpot reservoirs and +plant from destruction. + +Other evidence accumulated. Cryptic remarks of Doble made during the +day. His anxiety to see Steelman immediately. A certain manner of +ill-repressed triumph whenever he mentioned Sanders or Crawford. These +bolstered Shorty's growing opinion that the man had deliberately fired +the chaparral from a spirit of revenge. + +Shorty was an outlaw and a bad man. He had killed, and might at any time +kill again. To save the Jackpot from destruction he would not have made a +turn of the hand. But Shorty was a cattleman. He had been brought up in +the saddle and had known the whine of the lariat and the dust of the drag +drive all his days. Every man has his code. Three things stood out in +that of Shorty. He was loyal to the hand that paid him, he stood by his +pals, and he believed in and after his own fashion loved cattle and the +life of which they were the central fact. To destroy the range feed +wantonly was a crime so nefarious that he could not believe Doble guilty +of it. And yet-- + +He could not let the matter lie in doubt. He left the tendejon and rode +to Steelman's house. Before entering he examined carefully both of his +long-barreled forty-fives. He made sure that the six-shooters were in +perfect order and that they rested free in the holsters. That sixth sense +acquired by "bad men," by means of which they sniff danger when it is +close, was telling him that smoke would rise before he left the house. + +He stepped to the porch and knocked. There came a moment's silence, a +low-pitched murmur of whispering voices carried through an open window, +the shuffling of feet. The door was opened by Brad Steelman. He was alone +in the room. + +"Where's Dug?" asked Shorty bluntly. + +"Why, Dug--why, he's here, Shorty. Didn't know it was you. 'Lowed it +might be some one else. So he stepped into another room." + +The short cowpuncher walked in and closed the door behind him. He stood +with his back to it, facing the other door of the room. + +"Did you hire Dug to fire the chaparral?" he asked, his voice ominously +quiet. + +A flicker of fear shot to the eyes of the oil promoter. He recognized +signs of peril and his heart was drenched with an icy chill. Shorty was +going to turn on him, had become a menace. + +"I--I dunno what you mean," he quavered. "I'll call Dug if you wanta see +him." He began to shuffle toward the inner room. + +"Hold yore hawsses, Brad. I asked you a question." The cold eyes of the +gunman bored into those of the other man. "Howcome you to hire Dug to +burn the range?" + +"You know I wouldn't do that," the older man whined. "I got sheep, ain't +I? Wouldn't be reasonable I'd destroy their feed. No, you got a wrong +notion about--" + +"Yore sheep ain't on the south slope range." Shorty's mind had moved +forward one notch toward certainty. Steelman's manner was that of a man +dodging the issue. It carried no conviction of innocence. "How much you +payin' him?" + +The door of the inner room opened. Dug Doble's big frame filled the +entrance. The eyes of the two gunmen searched each other. Those of Doble +asked a question. Had it come to a showdown? Steelman sidled over to +the desk where he worked and sat down in front of it. His right hand +dropped into an open drawer, apparently carelessly and without intent. + +Shorty knew at once that Doble had been drinking heavily. The man was +morose and sullen. His color was high. Plainly he was primed for a +killing if trouble came. + +"Lookin' for me, Shorty?" he asked. + +"You fired Bear Cañon," charged the cowpuncher. + +"So?" + +"When I went to saddle." + +Doble's eyes narrowed. "You aimin' to run my business, Shorty?" + +Neither man lifted his gaze from the other. Each knew that the test had +come once more. They were both men who had "gone bad," in the current +phrase of the community. Both had killed. Both searched now for an +advantage in that steady duel of the eyes. Neither had any fear. The +emotions that dominated were cold rage and caution. Every sense and nerve +in each focalized to one purpose--to kill without being killed. + +"When yore's is mine, Dug." + +"Is this yore's?" + +"Sure is. I've stood for a heap from you. I've let yore ugly temper ride +me. When you killed Tim Harrigan you got me in bad. Not the first time +either. But I'm damned if I'll ride with a coyote low-down enough to burn +the range." + +"No?" + +"No." + +From the desk came the sharp angry bark of a revolver. Shorty felt his +hat lift as a bullet tore through the rim. His eyes swept to Steelman, +who had been a negligible factor in his calculations. The man fired again +and blew out the light. In the darkness Shorty swept out both guns and +fired. His first two shots were directed toward the man behind the desk, +the next two at the spot where Doble had been standing. Another gun was +booming in the room, perhaps two. Yellow fire flashes ripped the +blackness. + +Shorty whipped open the door at his back, slid through it, and kicked it +shut with his foot as he leaped from the porch. At the same moment he +thought he heard a groan. + +Swiftly he ran to the cottonwood where he had left his horse tied. He +jerked loose the knot, swung to the saddle, and galloped out of town. + +The drumming of hoofs came down the wind to a young fellow returning from +a late call on his sweetheart. He wondered who was in such a hurry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +DUG DOBLE RIDES INTO THE HILLS + + +The booming of the guns died down. The acrid smoke that filled the room +lifted to shredded strata. A man's deep breathing was the only sound in +the heavy darkness. + +Presently came a soft footfall of some one moving cautiously. A match +flared. A hand cupped the flame for an instant to steady it before the +match moved toward the wick of a kerosene lamp. + +Dug Doble's first thought was for his own safety. The house door was +closed, the window blinds were down. He had heard the beat of hoofs die +away on the road. But he did not intend to be caught by a trick. He +stepped forward, locked the door, and made sure the blinds were offering +no cracks of light. Satisfied that all was well, he turned to the figure +sprawled on the floor with outflung arms. + +"Dead as a stuck shote," he said callously after he had turned the body +over. "Got him plumb through the forehead--in the dark, too. Some +shootin', Shorty." + +He stood looking down at the face of the man whose brain had spun so +many cobwebs of deceit and treachery. Even in death it had none of that +dignity which sometimes is lent to those whose lives have been full of +meanness and guile. But though Doble looked at his late ally, he was not +thinking about him. He was mapping out his future course of action. + +If any one had heard the shots and he were found here now, no jury on +earth could be convinced that he had not killed Steelman. His six-shooter +still gave forth a faint trickle of smoke. An examination would show that +three shots had been fired from it. + +He must get away from the place at once. + +Doble poured himself half a tumbler of whiskey and drank it neat. Yes, he +must go, but he might as well take with him any money Steelman had in the +safe. The dead man owed him a thousand dollars he would never be able to +collect in any other way. + +He stooped and examined the pockets of the still figure. A bunch of keys +rewarded him. An old-fashioned safe stood in the corner back of the desk. +Doble stooped in front of it, then waited for an instant to make sure +nobody was coming. He fell to work, trying the keys one after another. + +A key fitted. He turned it and swung open the door. The killer drew out +bundles of papers and glanced through them hurriedly. Deeds, mortgages, +oil stocks, old receipts: he wanted none of these, and tossed them to the +floor as soon as he discovered there were no banknotes among them. +Compartment after compartment he rifled. Behind a package of abstracts he +found a bunch of greenbacks tied together by a rubber band at each end. +The first bill showed that the denomination was fifty dollars. Doble +investigated no farther. He thrust the bulky package into his inside coat +pocket and rose. + +Again he listened. No sound broke the stillness of the night. The silence +got on his nerves. He took another big drink and decided it was time to +go. + +He blew out the light and once more listened. The lifeless body of his +ally lying within touch of his foot did not disturb the outlaw. He had +not killed him, and if he had it would have made no difference. Very +softly for a large man, he passed to the inner room and toward the back +door. He deflected his course to a cupboard where he knew Steelman kept +liquor and from a shelf helped himself to an unbroken quart bottle of +bourbon. He knew himself well enough to know that during the next +twenty-four hours he would want whiskey badly. + +Slowly he unlocked and opened the back door. His eyes searched the yard +and the open beyond to make sure that neither his enemy nor a sheriff's +posse was lurking in the brush for him. He crept out to the stable, +revolver in hand. Here he saddled in the dark, deftly and rapidly, +thrusting the bottle of whiskey into one of the pockets of the +saddlebags. Leading the horse out into the mesquite, he swung to the +saddle and rode away. + +He was still in the saddle when the peaks above caught the morning sun +glow in a shaft of golden light. Far up in the gulches the new fallen +snow reflected the dawn's pink. + +In a pocket of the hills Doble unsaddled. He hobbled his horse and turned +it loose to graze while he lay down under a pine with the bottle for a +companion. + +The man had always had a difficult temper. This had grown on him and been +responsible largely for his decline in life. It had been no part of his +plan to "go bad." There had been a time when he had been headed for +success in the community. He had held men's respect, even though they had +not liked him. Then, somehow, he had turned the wrong corner and been +unable to retrace his steps. + +He could even put a finger on the time he had commenced to slip. It had +begun when he had quarreled with Emerson Crawford about his daughter +Joyce. Shorty and he had done some brand-burning through a wet blanket. +But he had not gone so far that a return to respectability was +impossible. A little rustling on the quiet, with no evidence to fasten +it on one, was nothing to bar a man from society. He had gone more +definitely wrong after Sanders came back to Malapi. The young ex-convict, +he chose to think, was responsible for the circumstances that made of him +an outlaw. Crawford and Sanders together had exposed him and driven him +from the haunts of men to the hills. He hated them both with a bitter, +morose virulence his soul could not escape. + +Throughout the day he continued to drink. This gave him no refuge from +himself. He still brooded in the inferno of his own thought-circle. It is +possible that a touch of madness had begun to affect his brain. Certainly +his subsequent actions would seem to bear out this theory. + +Revenge! The thought of it spurred him every waking hour, roweling his +wounded pride cruelly. There was a way within reach of his hand, one +suggested by Steelman's whisperings, though never openly advocated by +the sheepman. The jealousy of the man urged him to it, and his consuming +vanity persuaded him that out of evil might come good. He could make the +girl love him. So her punishment would bring her joy in the end. As for +Crawford and Sanders, his success would be such bitter medicine to them +that time would never wear away the taste of it. + +At dusk he rose and resaddled. Under the stars he rode back to Malapi. He +knew exactly what he meant to do and how he meant to do it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +THE TUNNEL + + +Dave knew no rest that night. He patrolled his line from San Jacinto to +Cattle and back again, stopping always to lend a hand where the attack +was most furious. The men of his crew were weary to exhaustion, but the +pressure of the fire was so great that they dared not leave the front. +As soon as one blaze was beaten out, another started. A shower of sparks +close to Cattle Cañon swept over the ridge and set the thick grass afire. +This was smothered with saddle blankets and with sand and dirt thrown +from shovels. + +Nearer to San Jacinto Cañon the danger was more acute. Dave did not dare +back-fire on account of the wind. He dynamited the timber to make a +trail-break against the howling, roaring wall of fire plunging forward. + +As soon as the flames seized the timber the heat grew more intense. The +sound of falling trees as they crashed down marked the progress of the +fire. The men retreated, staggering with exhaustion, hands and faces +flayed, eyes inflamed and blinded by the black smoke that rolled over +them. + +A stiff wind was blowing, but it was no longer a steady one. Sometimes it +bore from the northeast; again in a cross-current almost directly from +the east. The smoke poured in, swirling round them till they scarce knew +one direction from another. + +The dense cloud lifted for a moment, swept away by an air current. To the +fire-fighters that glimpse of the landscape told an appalling fact. The +demon had escaped below from San Jacinto Cañon and been swept westward by +a slant of wind with the speed of an express train. They were trapped by +the back-fire in a labyrinth from which there appeared no escape. Every +path of exit was blocked. The flames had leaped from hilltop to hilltop. + +The men gathered together to consult. Many of them were on the verge of +panic. + +Dave spoke quietly. "We've got a chance if we keep our heads. There's an +old mining tunnel hereabouts. Follow me, and stay together." + +He plunged into the heavy smoke that had fallen about them again, working +his way by instinct rather than by sight. Twice he stopped, to make sure +that his men were all at heel. Several times he left them, diving into +the smoke to determine which way they must go. + +The dry, salt crackle of a dead pine close at hand would have told him, +even if the oppressive heat had not, that the fire would presently sweep +over the ground where they stood. He drew the men steadily toward Cattle +Cañon. + +In that furious, murk-filled world he could not be sure he was moving in +the right direction, though the slope of the ground led him to think so. +Falling trees crashed about them. The men staggered on in the uncanny +light which tinged even the smoke. + +Dave stopped and gave sharp, crisp orders. His voice was even and steady. +"Must be close to it now. Lie back of these down trees with your faces +close to the ground. I'll be back in a minute. Shorty, you're boss of the +crew while I'm away." + +"You're gonna leave us to roast," a man accused, in a voice that was half +a scream. + +Sanders did not stop to answer him, but Shorty took the hysterical man in +hand. "Git down by that log pronto or I'll bore a hole in you. Ain't you +got sense enough to see he'll save us if there's a chance?" + +The man fell trembling to the ground. + +"Two men behind each log," ordered Shorty. "If yore clothes git afire, +help each other put it out." + +They lay down and waited while the fire swept above and around them. +Fortunately the woods here were not dense. Men prayed or cursed or wept, +according to their natures. The logs in front of some of them caught +fire and spread to their clothing. Shorty's voice encouraged them. + +"Stick it out, boys. He'll be back if he's alive." + +It could have been only minutes, but it seemed hours before the voice of +Sanders rang out above the fury of the blast. + +"All up! I've found the tunnel! Step lively now!" + +They staggered after their leader, Shorty bringing up the rear to see +that none collapsed by the way. The line moved drunkenly forward. Now and +again a man went down, overcome by the smoke and heat. With brutal kicks +Shorty drove him to his feet again. + +The tunnel was a shallow one in a hillside. Dave stood aside and counted +the men as they passed in. Two were missing. He ran along the back trail, +dense with smoke from the approaching flames, and stumbled into a man. It +was Shorty. He was dragging with him the body of a man who had fainted. +Sanders seized an arm and together they managed to get the unconscious +victim to the tunnel. + +Dave was the last man in. He learned from the men in the rear that the +tunnel had no drift. The floor was moist and there was a small seepage +spring in it near the entrance. + +Some of the men protested at staying. + +"The fire'll lick in and burn us out like rats," one man urged. "This +ain't no protection. We've just walked into a trap. I'll take my chance +outside." + +Dave reached forward and lifted one of Shorty's guns from its holster. +"You'll stay right here, Dillon. We didn't make it one minute too soon. +The whole hill out there's roaring." + +"I'll take my chance out there. That's my lookout," said the man, moving +toward the entrance. + +"No. You'll stay here." Dave's hard, chill gaze swept over his crew. +Several of them were backing Dillon and others were wavering. "It's your +only chance, and I'm here to see you take it. Don't take another step." + +Dillon took one, and went crumpling to the granite floor before +Dave could move. Shorty had knocked him down with the butt of his +nine-inch-barrel revolver. + +Already smoke was filling the cave. The fire had raced to its mouth and +was licking in with long, red, hungry tongues. The tunnel timbers were +smouldering. + +"Lie down and breathe the air close to the ground," ordered Dave, just as +though a mutiny had not been quelled a moment before. "Stay down there. +Don't get up." + +He found an old tomato can and used it to throw water from the +seep-spring upon the burning wood. Shorty and one or two of the other men +helped him. The heat near the mouth was so intense they could not stand +it. All but Sanders collapsed and staggered back to sink down to the +fresher air below. + +Their place of refuge packed with smoke. A tree crashed down at the mouth +and presently a second one. These, blazing, sent more heat in to cook the +tortured men inside. In that bakehouse of hell men showed again their +nature, cursing, praying, storming, or weeping as they lay. + +The prospect hole became a madhouse. A big Hungarian, crazed by the +torment he was enduring, leaped to his feet and made for the blazing hill +outside. + +"Back there!" Dave shouted hoarsely. + +The big fellow rushed him. His leader flung him back against the rock +wall. He rushed again, screaming in crazed anger. Sanders struck him down +with the long barrel of the forty-five. The Hungarian lay where he fell +for a few minutes, then crawled back from the mouth of the pit. + +At intervals others tried to break out and were driven back. + +Dave's eyebrows crisped away. He could scarcely draw a breath through his +inflamed throat. His eyes were swollen and almost blinded with smoke. His +lungs ached. Whenever he took a step he staggered. But he stuck to his +job hardily. The tomato can moved more jerkily. It carried less water. +But it still continued to drench the blazing timbers at the mouth of the +tunnel. + +So Dave held the tunnel entrance against the fire and against his own +racked and tortured men. Occasionally he lay down to breathe the air +close to the floor. There was no circulation, for the tunnel ended in a +wall face. But the smoke was not so heavy close to the ground. + +Man after man succumbed to the stupor of unconsciousness. Men choked, +strangled, and even died while their leader, his hair burnt and his eyes +almost sightless, face and body raw with agonizing wounds, crept feebly +about his business of saving their lives. + +Fire-crisped and exhausted, he dropped down at last into forgetfulness of +pain. And the flames, which had fought with such savage fury to blot out +the little group of men, fell back sullenly in defeat. They had spent +themselves and could do no more. + +The line of fire had passed over them. It left charred trees still +burning, a hillside black and smoking, desolation and ruin in its path. + +Out of the prospect hole a man crawled over Dave's prostrate body. He +drew a breath of sweet, delicious air. A cool wind lifted the hair from +his forehead. He tried to give a cowpuncher's yell of joy. From out of +his throat came only a cracked and raucous rumble. The man was Shorty. + +He crept back into the tunnel and whispered hoarsely the good news. Men +came out on all fours over the bodies of those who could not move. Shorty +dragged Dave into the open. He was a sorry sight. The shirt had been +almost literally burned from his body. + +In the fresh air the men revived quickly. They went back into the cavern +and dragged out those of their companions not yet able to help +themselves. Three out of the twenty-nine would never help themselves +again. They had perished in the tunnel. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +A MESSAGE + + +The women of Malapi responded generously to the call Joyce made upon them +to back their men in the fight against the fire in the chaparral. They +were simple folk of a generation not far removed from the pioneer one +which had settled the country. Some of them had come across the plains in +white-topped movers' wagons. Others had lain awake in anxiety on account +of raiding Indians on the war-path. All had lived lives of frugal +usefulness. It is characteristic of the frontier that its inhabitants +help each other without stint when the need for service arises. Now they +cooked and baked cheerfully to supply the wants of the fire-fighters. + +Joyce was in command of the commissary department. She ordered and issued +supplies, checked up the cooked food, and arranged for its transportation +to the field of battle. The first shipment went out about the middle of +the afternoon of the first day of the fire. A second one left town just +after midnight. A third was being packed during the forenoon of the +second day. + +Though Joyce had been up most of the night, she showed no signs of +fatigue. In spite of her slenderness, the girl was possessed of a fine +animal vigor. There was vitality in her crisp tread. She was a decisive +young woman who got results competently. + +A bustling old lady with the glow of winter apples in her wrinkled cheeks +remonstrated with her. + +"You can't do it all, dearie. If I was you I'd go home and rest now. Take +a nice long nap and you'll feel real fresh," she said. + +"I'm not tired," replied Joyce. "Not a bit. Think of those poor men out +there fighting the fire day and night. I'd be ashamed to quit." + +The old lady's eyes admired the clean, fragrant girl packing sandwiches. +She sighed, regretfully. Not long since--as her memory measured time--she +too had boasted a clear white skin that flushed to a becoming pink on her +smooth cheeks when occasion called. + +"A--well a--well, dearie, you'll never be young but once. Make ye the +most of it," she said, a dream in her faded eyes. + +Out of the heart of the girl a full-throated laugh welled. "I'll do just +that, Auntie. Then I'll grow some day into a nice old lady like you." +Joyce recurred to business in a matter-of-fact voice. "How many more +of the ham sandwiches are there, Mrs. Kent?" + +About sunset Joyce went home to see that Keith was behaving properly and +snatched two hours' sleep while she could. Another shipment of food had +to be sent out that night and she did not expect to get to bed till well +into the small hours. + +Keith was on hand when she awakened to beg for permission to go out to +the fire. + +"I'll carry water, Joy, to the men. Some one's got to carry it, ain't +they, 'n' if I don't mebbe a man'll haf to." + +The young mother shook her head decisively. "No, Keithie, you're too +little. Grow real fast and you'll be a big boy soon." + +"You don't ever lemme have any fun," he pouted. "I gotta go to bed an' +sleep an' sleep an' sleep." + +She had no time to stay and comfort him. He pulled away sulkily from her +good-night kiss and refused to be placated. As she moved away into the +darkness, it gave Joyce a tug of the heart to see his small figure on +the porch. For she knew that as soon as she was out of sight he would +break down and wail. + +He did. Keith was of that temperament which wants what it wants when it +wants it. After a time his sobs subsided. There wasn't much use crying +when nobody was around to pay any attention to him. + +He went to bed and to sleep. It was hours later that the voice of some +one calling penetrated his dreams. Keith woke up, heard the sound of a +knocking on the door, and went to the window. The cook was deaf as +a post and would never hear. His sister was away. Perhaps it was a +message from his father. + +A man stepped out from the house and looked up at him. "Mees Crawford, +ees she at home maybeso?" he asked. The man was a Mexican. + +"Wait a jiffy. I'll get up," the youngster called back. + +He hustled into his clothes, went down, and opened the door. + +"The señorita. Ees she at home?" the man asked again. + +"She's down to the Boston Emporium cuttin' sandwiches an' packin' 'em," +Keith said. "Who wants her?" + +"I have a note for her from Señor Sanders." + +Master Keith seized his opportunity promptly. "I'll take you down there." + +The man brought his horse from the hitching-rack across the road. Side by +side they walked downtown, the youngster talking excitedly about the +fire, the Mexican either keeping silence or answering with a brief "Si, +muchacho." + +Into the Boston Emporium Keith raced ahead of the messenger. "Joy, Joy, a +man wants to see you! From Dave!" he shouted. + +Joyce flushed. Perhaps she would have preferred not to have her private +business shouted out before a roomful of women. But she put a good face +on it. + +"A letter, señorita," the man said, presenting her with a note which he +took from his pocket. + +The note read: + +MISS JOYCE: + +Your father has been hurt in the fire. This man will take you to him. + +DAVE SANDERS + +Joyce went white to the lips and caught at the table to steady herself. +"Is--is he badly hurt?" she asked. + +The man took refuge in ignorance, as Mexicans do when they do not want to +talk. He did not understand English, he said, and when the girl spoke in +Spanish he replied sulkily that he did not know what was in the letter. +He had been told to deliver it and bring the lady back. That was all. + +Keith burst into tears. He wanted to go to his father too, he sobbed. + +The girl, badly shaken herself in soul, could not refuse him. If his +father was hurt he had a right to be with him. + +"You may ride along with me," she said, her lip trembling. + +The women gathered round the boy and his sister, expressing sympathy +after the universal fashion of their sex. They were kinder and more +tender than usual, pressing on them offers of supplies and service. Joyce +thanked them, a lump in her throat, but it was plain that the only way in +which they could help was to expedite her setting out. + +Soon they were on the road, Keith riding behind his sister and clinging +to her waist. Joyce had slipped a belt around the boy and fastened it to +herself so that he would not fall from the saddle in case he slept. The +Mexican rode in complete silence. + +For an hour they jogged along the dusty road which led to the new oil +field, then swung to the right into the low foothills among which the +mountains were rooted. + +Joyce was a bit surprised. She asked questions, and again received for +answers shrugs and voluble Spanish irrelevant to the matter. The young +woman knew that the battle was being fought among the cañons leading +to the plains. This trail must be a short cut to one of them. She gave up +trying to get information from her guide. He was either stupid or sulky; +perhaps a little of each. + +The hill trail went up and down. It dipped into valleys and meandered +round hills. It climbed a mountain spur, slipped through a notch, and +plumped sharply into a small mountain park. At the notch the Mexican +drew up and pointed a finger. In the dim pre-dawn grayness Joyce could +see nothing but a gulf of mist. + +"Over there, Señorita, he waits." + +"Where?" + +"In the arroyo. Come." + +They descended, letting the horses pick their way down cautiously through +the loose rubble of the steep pitch. The heart of the girl beat fast with +anxiety about her father, with the probability that David Sanders would +soon come to meet her out of the silence, with some vague prescience of +unknown evil clutching at her bosom. There had been growing in Joyce a +feeling that something was wrong, something sinister was at work which +she did not understand. + +A mountain corral took form in the gloom. The Mexican slipped the bars of +the gate to let the horses in. + +"Is he here?" asked Joyce breathlessly. + +The man pointed to a one-room shack huddled on the hillside. + +Keith had fallen sound asleep, his head against the girl's back. "Don't +wake him when you lift him down," she told the man. "I'll just let him +sleep if he will." + +The Mexican carried Keith to a pile of sheepskins under a shed and +lowered him to them gently. The boy stirred, turned over, but did not +awaken. + +Joyce ran toward the shack. There was no light in it, no sign of life +about the place. She could not understand this. Surely someone must be +looking after her father. Whoever this was must have heard her coming. +Why had he not appeared at the door? Dave, of course, might be away +fighting fire, but someone.... + +Her heart lost a beat. The shadow of some horrible thing was creeping +over her life. Was her father dead? What shock was awaiting her in the +cabin? + +At the door she raised her voice in a faint, ineffective call. Her knees +gave way. She felt her body shaking as with an ague. But she clenched her +teeth on the weakness and moved into the room. + +It was dark--darker than outdoors. But as her eyes grew accustomed to the +absence of light she made out a table, a chair, a stove. From the far +side of the room came a gurgle that was half a snore. + +"Father," she whispered, and moved forward. + +Her outstretched hand groped for the bed and fell on clothing warm with +heat transmitted from a human body. At the same time she subconsciously +classified a strong odor that permeated the atmosphere. It was whiskey. + +The sleeper stirred uneasily beneath her touch. She felt stifled, wanted +to shout out her fears in a scream. Far beyond the need of proof she knew +now that something was very wrong, though she still could not guess +at what the dreadful menace was. + +But Joyce had courage. She was what the wind and the sun and a long line +of sturdy ancestors had made her. She leaned forward toward the awakening +man just as he turned in the bunk. + +A hand fell on her wrist and closed, the fingers like bands of iron. +Joyce screamed wildly, her nerve swept away in a reaction of terror. She +fought like a wildcat, twisting and writhing with all her supple strength +to break the grip on her arm. + +For she knew now what the evil was that had been tolling a bell of +warning in her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +HANK BRINGS BAD NEWS + + +The change in the wind had cost three lives, but it had saved the Jackpot +property and the feed on the range. After the fire in San Jacinto Cañon +had broken through Hart's defense by its furious and persistent attack, +nothing could have prevented it from spreading over the plains on a wild +rampage except a cloudburst or a decided shift of wind. This last had +come and had driven the flames back on territory already burnt over. + +The fire did not immediately die out, but it soon began to dwindle. Only +here and there did it leap forward with its old savage fury. Presently +these sporadic plunges wore themselves out for lack of fuel. The +devastated area became a smouldering, smoking char showing a few isolated +blazes in the barren ruin. There were still possibilities of harm in them +if the wind should shift again, but for the present they were subdued to +a shadow of their former strength. It remained the business of the +fire-fighters to keep a close watch on the red-hot embers to prevent them +from being flung far by the breeze. + +Fortunately the wind died down soon, reducing the danger to a minimum. + +Dave handed back to Shorty the revolver he had borrowed so peremptorily +from his holster. + +"Much obliged. I won't need this any more." + +The cowpuncher spoke grimly. "I'm liable to." + +"Mexico is a good country for a cattleman," Sanders said, looking +straight at him. + +Shorty met him eye to eye. "So I've been told." + +"Good range and water-holes. Stock fatten well." + +"Yes." + +"A man might do worse than go there if he's worn out this country." + +"Stage-robbers and rustlers right welcome, are they?" asked Shorty +hardily. + +"No questions asked about a man's past if his present is O.K." + +"Listens good. If I meet anybody lookin' to make a change I'll tell him +you recommended Mexico." The eyes of the two men still clashed. In each +man's was a deep respect for the other's gameness. They had been tried by +fire and come through clean. Shorty voiced this defiantly. "I don't like +a hair of yore head. Never did. You're too damned interferin' to suit me. +But I'll say this. You'll do to ride the river with, Sanders." + +"I'll interfere again this far, Shorty. You're too good a man to go bad." + +"Oh, hell!" The outlaw turned away; then thought better of it and came +back. "I'll name no names, but I'll say this. Far as I'm concerned Tim +Harrigan might be alive to-day." + +Dave, with a nod, accepted this as true. "I guessed as much. You've been +running with a mighty bad pardner." + +"Have I?" asked the rustler blandly. "Did I say anything about a +pardner?" + +His eye fell on the three still figures lying on the hillside in a row. +Not a twitching muscle in his face showed what he was thinking, that they +might have been full of splendid life and vigor if Dug Doble had not put +a match to the chaparral back of Bear Cañon. The man had murdered them +just as surely as though he had shot them down with a rifle. For weeks +Shorty had been getting his affairs in order to leave the country, but +before he went he intended to have an accounting with one man. + +Dillon came up to Sanders and spoke in an awed voice. "What do you aim to +do with ... these, Sanders?" His hand indicated the bodies lying near. + +"Send horses up for them," Dave said. "You can take all the men back to +camp with you except three to help me watch the fire. Tell Mr. Crawford +how things are." + +The men crept down the hill like veterans a hundred years old. Ragged, +smoke-blackened, and grimy, they moved like automatons. So great was +their exhaustion that one or two dropped out of line and lay down on +the charred ground to sleep. The desire for it was so overmastering that +they could not drive their weighted legs forward. + +A man on horseback appeared and rode up to Dave and Shorty. The man was +Bob Hart. The red eyes in his blackened face were sunken and his coat +hung on him in crisped shreds. He looked down at the bodies lying side by +side. His face worked, but he made no verbal comment. + +"We piled into a cave. Some of the boys couldn't stand it," Dave +explained. + +Bob's gaze took in his friend. The upper half of his body was almost +naked. Both face and torso were raw with angry burns. Eyebrows had +disappeared and eyes were so swollen as to be almost closed. He was +gaunt, ragged, unshaven, and bleeding. Shorty, too, appeared to have gone +through the wars. + +"You boys oughtta have the doc see you," Hart said gently. "He's down at +camp now. One of Em's men had an arm busted by a limb of a tree fallin' +on him. I've got a coupla casualties in my gang. Two or three of 'em +runnin' a high fever. Looks like they may have pneumonia, doc says. Lungs +all inflamed from swallowin' smoke.... You take my hawss and ride down to +camp, Dave. I'll stick around here till the old man sends a relief." + +"No, you go down and report to him, Bob. If Crawford has any fresh men +I'd like mine relieved. They've been on steady for 'most two days and +nights. Four or five can hold the fire here. All they need do is watch +it." + +Hart did not argue. He knew how Dave stuck to a thing like a terrier +to a rat. He would not leave the ground till orders came from Emerson +Crawford. + +"Lemme go an' report," suggested Shorty. "I wanta get my bronc an' light +out pronto. Never can tell when Applegate might drap around an' ask +questions. Me, I'm due in the hills." + +"All right," agreed Bob. "See Crawford himself, Shorty." + +The outlaw pulled himself to the saddle and cantered off. + +"Best man in my gang," Dave said, following him with his eyes. "There to +a finish and never a whimper out of him. Dragged a man out of the fire +when he might have been hustling for his own skin." + +"Shorty's game," admitted Hart. "Pity he went bad." + +"Yes. He told me he didn't kill Harrigan." + +"Reckon Dug did that. More like him." + +Half an hour later the relief came. Hart, Dave, and the three +fire-fighters who had stayed to watch rode back to camp. + +Crawford had lost his voice. He had already seen Hart since the fire had +subsided, so his greeting was to Sanders. + +"Good work, son," he managed to whisper, a quaver in his throat. "I'd +rather we'd lost the whole works than to have had that happen to the +boys, a hundred times rather. I reckon it must 'a' been mighty bad up +there when the back-fire caught you. The boys have been tellin' me. You +saved all their lives, I judge." + +"I happened to know where the cave was." + +"Yes." Crawford's whisper was sadly ironic. "Well, I'm sure glad you +happened to know that. If you hadn't...." The old cattleman gave a +little gesture that completed the sentence. The tragedy that had taken +place had shaken his soul. He felt in a way responsible. + +"If the doc ain't busy now, I reckon Dave could use him," Bob said. "I +reckon he needs a li'l' attention. Then I'm ready for grub an' a sleep +twice round the clock. If any one asks me, I'm sure enough dead beat. +I don't ever want to look at a shovel again." + +"Doc's fixin' up Lanier's burnt laig. He'd oughtta be through soon now. +I'll have him 'tend to Dave's burns right away then," said Crawford. He +turned to Sanders. "How about it, son? You sure look bunged up pretty +bad." + +"I'm about all in," admitted Dave. "Reckon we all are. Shorty gone yet?" + +"Yes. Lit out after he'd made a report. Said he had an engagement to meet +a man. Expect he meant he had an engagement _not_ to meet the sheriff. I +rec'lect when Shorty was a mighty promisin' young fellow before Brad +Steelman got a-holt of him. He punched cows for me twenty years ago. He +hadn't took the wrong turn then. You cayn't travel crooked trails an' not +reach a closed pocket o' the hills sometime." + +For several minutes they had heard the creaking of a wagon working up an +improvised road toward the camp. Now it moved into sight. The teamster +called to Crawford. + +"Here's another load o' grub, boss. Miss Joyce she rustled up them +canteens you was askin' for." + +Crawford stepped over to the wagon. "Don't reckon we'll need the +canteens, Hank, but we can use the grub fine. The fire's about out." + +"That's bully. Say, I got news for you, Mr. Crawford. Brad Steelman's +dead. They found him in his house, shot plumb through the head. I reckon +he won't do you any more meanness." + +"Who killed him?" + +"They ain't sayin'," returned the teamster cautiously. "Some folks was +guessin' that mebbe Dug Doble could tell, but there ain't any evidence +far's I know. Whoever it was robbed the safe." + +The old cattleman made no comment. From the days of their youth Steelman +had been his bitter enemy, but death had closed the account between them. +His mind traveled back to those days twenty-five years ago when he and +the sheepman had both hitched their horses in front of Helen Radcliff's +home. It had been a fair fight between them, and he had won as a man +should. But Brad had not taken his defeat as a man should. He had +nourished bitterness and played his successful rival many a mean +despicable trick. Out of these had grown the feud between them. Crawford +did not know how it had come about, but he had no doubt Steelman had +somehow fallen a victim in the trap he had been building for others. + +A question brought his mind back to the present. The teamster was +talking: "... so she started pronto. I s'pose you wasn't as bad hurt as +Sanders figured." + +"What's that?" asked Crawford. + +"I was sayin' Miss Joyce she started right away when the note come from +Sanders." + +"What note?" + +"The one tellin' how you was hurt in the fire." + +Crawford turned. "Come here, Dave," he called hoarsely. + +Sanders moved across. + +"Hank says you sent a note to Joyce sayin' I'd been hurt. What about it?" + +"Why would I do that when you're not hurt?" + +"Then you didn't?" + +"Of course not," answered Dave, perplexed. + +"Some one's been stringin' you, Hank," said Crawford, smiling. + +The teamster scratched his head. "No, sir. I was there when she left. +About twelve o'clock last night, mebbe later." + +"But Sanders says he didn't send a note, and Joyce didn't come here. So +you must 'a' missed connections somewhere." + +"Probably you saw her start for home," suggested Dave. + +Hank stuck to his guns. "No, sir. She was on that sorrel of hers, an' +Keith was ridin' behind her. I saddled myself and took the horse to the +store. They was waitin' there for me, the two young folks an' Juan." + +"Juan?" + +"Juan Otero. He brought the note an' rode back with her." + +The old cattleman felt a clutch of fear at his heart. Juan Otero was one +of Dug Doble's men. + +"That all you know, Hank?" + +"That's all. Miss Joyce said for me to get this wagonload of grub out +soon as I could. So I come right along." + +"Doble been seen in town lately?" asked Dave. + +"Not as I know of. Shorty has." + +"Shorty ain't in this." + +"Do you reckon--?" + +Sanders cut the teamster short. "Some of Doble's work. But I don't see +why he sent for Keith too." + +"He didn't. Keith begged to go along an' Miss Joyce took him." + +In the haggard, unshaven face of the cattleman Dave read the ghastly +fear of his own soul. Doble was capable of terrible evil. His hatred, +jealousy, and passion would work together to poison his mind. The corners +of his brain had always been full of lust and obscenity. There was this +difference between him and Shorty. The squat cowpuncher was a clean +scoundrel. A child, a straight girl, an honest woman, would be as safe +with him as with simple-hearted old Buck Byington. But Dug Doble--it +was impossible to predict what he would do. He had a vein of caution in +his make-up, but when in drink he jettisoned this and grew ugly. His +vanity--always a large factor in determining his actions--might carry +him in the direction of decency or the reverse. + +"I'm glad Keith's with her," said Hart, who had joined the group. "With +Keith and the Mexican there--" His meaning did not need a completed +sentence. + +"Question is, where did he take her," said Crawford. "We might comb the +hills a week and not find his hole. I wish to God Shorty was still here. +He might know." + +"He's our best bet, Bob," agreed Dave. "Find him. He's gone off somewhere +to sleep. Rode away less than half an hour since." + +"Which way?" + +"Rode toward Bear Cañon," said Crawford. + +"That's a lead for you, Bob. Figure it out. He's done--completely worn +out. So he won't go far--not more than three-four miles. He'll be in the +hills, under cover somewhere, for he won't forget that thousand dollars +reward. So he'll be lying in the chaparral. That means he'll be above +where the fire started. If I was looking for him, I'd say somewhere back +of Bear, Cattle, or San Jacinto would be the likeliest spot." + +"Good guess, Dave. Somewheres close to water," said Bob. "You goin' along +with me?" + +"No. Take as many men as you can get. I'm going back, if I can, to find +the place where Otero and Miss Joyce left the road. Mr. Crawford, you'd +better get back to town, don't you think? There may be clues there we +don't know anything about here. Perhaps Miss Joyce may have got back." + +"If not, I'll gather a posse to rake the hills, Dave. If that villain's +hurt my li'l' girl or Keith--" Crawford's whisper broke. He turned away +to conceal the working of his face. + +"He hasn't," said Bob with decision. "Dug ain't crazy even if his actions +look like it. I've a notion when Mr. Crawford gets back to town Miss +Joyce will be there all right. Like as not Dug brought her back himself. +Maybe he sent for her just to brag awhile. You know Dug." + +That was the worst of it, so far as any allaying of their fear went. They +did know Doble. They knew him for a thorough black-hearted scoundrel who +might stop at nothing. + +The three men moved toward the remuda. None of them had slept for +forty-eight hours. They had been through a grueling experience that had +tried soul and body to the limit. But none of them hesitated for an +instant. They belonged to the old West which answers the call no matter +what the personal cost. There was work to do. Not one of them would quit +as long as he could stick to the saddle. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +SHORTY IS AWAKENED + + +The eyes that looked into those of Joyce in the gloom of the cabin +abruptly shook off sleep. They passed from an amazed incredulity to a +malicious triumph. + +"So you've come to old Dug, have you, my pretty?" a heavy voice jeered. + +The girl writhed and twisted regardless of the pain, exerting every +muscle of the strong young arm and shoulder. As well she might have tried +to beat down an iron door with her bare hands as to hope for escape from +his strong grip. He made a motion to draw her closer. Joyce flung herself +back and sank down beside the bunk, straining away. + +"Let me go!" she cried, terror rampant in her white face. "Don't touch +me! Let me go!" + +The force of her recoil had drawn him to his side. His cruel, mirthless +grin seemed to her to carry inexpressible menace. Very slowly, while his +eyes taunted her, he pulled her manacled wrist closer. + +There was a swift flash of white teeth. With a startled oath Doble +snatched his arm away. Savage as a tigress, Joyce had closed her teeth +on his forearm. + +She fell back, got to her feet, and fled from the house. Doble was after +her on the instant. She dodged round a tree, doubled on her course, then +deflected toward the corral. Swift and supple though she was, his long +strides brought him closer. Again she screamed. + +Doble caught her. She fought in his arms, a prey to wild and unreasoning +terror. + +"You young hell-cat, I'm not gonna hurt you," he said. "What's the use o' +actin' crazy?" + +He could have talked to the waves of the sea with as much effect. It is +doubtful if she heard him. + +There was a patter of rapid feet. A small body hurled itself against +Doble's leg and clung there, beating his thigh with a valiant little +fist. + +"You le' my sister go! You le' my sister go!" the boy shouted, repeating +the words over and over. + +Doble looked down at Keith. "What the hell?" he demanded, amazed. + +The Mexican came forward and spoke in Spanish rapidly. He explained that +he could not have prevented the boy from coming without arousing the +suspicions of his sister and her friends. + +The outlaw was irritated. All this clamor of fear annoyed and disturbed +him. This was not the scene he had planned in his drink-inspired +reveries. There had been a time when Joyce had admired the virile force +of him, when she had let herself be kind to him under the impression she +was influencing him for his good. He had misunderstood the reaction of +her mind and supposed that if he could get her away from the influence +of her father and the rest of his enemies, she would again listen to what +he called reason. + +"All right. You brought the brat here without orders. Now take him home +again," directed Doble harshly. + +Otero protested fluently, with gestures eloquent. He had not yet been +paid for his services. By this time Malapi might be too hot for him. He +did not intend ever to go back. He was leaving the country pronto--muy +pronto. The boy could go back when his sister went. + +"His sister's not going back. Soon as it gets dark we'll travel south. +She's gonna be my wife. You can take the kid back to the road an' leave +him there." + +Again the Mexican lifted hands and shoulders while he pattered volubly, +trying to make himself heard above the cries of the child. Dug had +silenced Joyce by the simple expedient of clapping his big hand over her +mouth. + +Doble's other hand went into his pocket. He drew out a flat package of +currency bound together with rubber bands. His sharp teeth drew off one +of the rubbers. From the bundle he stripped four fifty-dollar bills and +handed them to Otero. + +"Peel this kid off'n my leg and hit the trail, Juan. I don' care where +you leave him so long as you keep an eye on him till afternoon." + +With difficulty the Mexican dragged the boy from his hold on Doble and +carried him to a horse. He swung to the saddle, dragged Keith up in front +of him, and rode away at a jog-trot. The youngster was screaming at the +top of his lungs. + +As his horse climbed toward the notch, Otero looked back. Doble had +picked up his prisoner and was carrying her into the house. + +The Mexican formulated his plans. He must get out of the country before +the hue and cry started. He could not count on more than a few hours +before the chase began. First, he must get rid of the child. Then he +wanted to go to a certain tendejon where he would meet his sweetheart +and say good-bye to her. + +It was all very well for Doble to speak of taking him to town or to the +road. Juan meant to do neither. He would leave him in the hills above the +Jackpot and show him the way down there, after which he would ride to +meet the girl who was waiting for him. This would give him time enough to +get away safely. It was no business of his whether or not Doble was +taken. He was an overbearing brute, anyhow. + +An hour's riding through the chaparral brought him to the watershed far +above the Jackpot. Otero picked his way to the upper end of a gulch. + +"Leesten, muchacho. Go down--down--down. First the gulch, then a cañon, +then the Jackpot. You go on thees trail." + +He dropped the boy to the ground, watched him start, then turned away at +a Spanish trot. + +The trail was a rough and precipitous one. Stumbling as he walked, Keith +went sobbing down the gulch. He had wept himself out, and his sobs had +fallen to a dry hiccough. A forlorn little chap, tired and sleepy, he +picked his way among the mesquite, following the path along the dry creek +bed. The catclaw tore his stockings and scratched him. Stone bruises hurt +his tender feet. He kept traveling, because he was afraid to give up. + +He reached the junction of the gulch and the cañon. A small stream, which +had survived the summer drought, trickled down the bed of the latter. +Through tangled underbrush Keith crept to the water. He lay down and +drank, after which he sat on a rock and pitied himself. In five minutes +he would have been asleep if a sound had not startled him. Some one was +snoring on the other side of a mesquite thicket. + +Keith jumped up, pushed his way through, and almost stumbled over a +sleeping man. He knelt down and began to shake the snorer. The man did +not awaken. The foghorn in his throat continued to rumble intermittently, +now in crescendo, now in diminuendo. + +"Wake up, man!" Keith shouted in his ear in the interval between shakes. + +The sleeper was a villainous-looking specimen. His face and throat were +streaked with black. There was an angry wheal across his cheek. One of +the genus tramp would have scorned his charred clothes. Keith cared for +none of these details. He wanted to unload his troubles to a "grown-up." + +The youngster roused the man at last by throwing water in his face. +Shorty sat up, at the same time dragging out a revolver. His gaze +fastened on the boy, after one swift glance round. + +"Who's with you, kid?" he demanded. + +Keith began to sniffle. "Nobody." + +"Whadya doin' here?" + +"I want my daddy." + +"Who is yore daddy? What's yore name?" + +"Keith Crawford." + +Shorty bit off an oath of surprise. "Howcome you here?" + +"A man brought me." + +The rustler brushed the cobwebs of sleep from his eyes and brain. He had +come up here to sleep undisturbed through the day and far into the night. +Before he had had two hours of rest this boy had dragged him back from +slumber. He was prepared to be annoyed, but he wanted to make sure of the +facts first. + +As far as he understood them, the boy told the story of the night's +adventures. Shorty's face grew grim. He appreciated the meaning back of +them far better than the little fellow. Keith's answers to his questions +told him that the men figuring in the episode must be Doble and Otero. +Though the child was a little mixed as to the direction from which Otero +had brought him, the man was pretty sure of the valley where Doble was +lying hid. + +He jumped to his feet. "We'll go, kid." + +"To daddy?" + +"Not right away. We got hurry-up business first." + +"I wanta go to my daddy." + +"Sure. Soon as we can. But we'll drift over to where yore sister's at +first off. We're both wore to a frazzle, mebbe, but we got to trail over +an' find out what's bitin' Dug." + +The man saddled and took the up-trail, Keith clinging to his waist. At +the head of the gulch the boy pointed out the way he and Otero had come. +This confirmed Shorty's opinion as to the place where Doble was to be +found. + +With the certainty of one who knew these hills as a preacher does his +Bible, Shorty wound in and out, always moving by the line of least +resistance. He was steadily closing the gap of miles that separated him +from Dug Doble. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +JUAN OTERO IS CONSCRIPTED + + +Crawford and Sanders rode rapidly toward Malapi. They stopped several +times to examine places where they thought it possible Otero might have +left the road, but they looked without expectation of any success. +They did not even know that the Mexican had started in this direction. As +soon as he reached the suburbs, he might have cut back across the plain +and followed an entirely different line of travel. + +Several miles from town Sanders pulled up. "I'm going back for a couple +of miles. Bob was telling me of a Mexican tendejon in the hills kept by +the father of a girl Otero goes to see. She might know where he is. If I +can get hold of him likely I can make him talk." + +This struck Crawford as rather a wild-goose chase, but he had nothing +better to offer himself in the way of a plan. + +"Might as well," he said gloomily. "I don't reckon you'll find him. But +you never can tell. Offer the girl a big reward if she'll tell where +Doble is. I'll hustle to town and send out posses." + +They separated. Dave rode back up the road, swung off at the place Hart +had told him of, and turned up a valley which pushed to the roots of the +hills. The tendejon was a long, flat-roofed adobe building close to the +trail. + +Dave walked through the open door into the bar-room. Two or three men +were lounging at a table. Behind a counter a brown-eyed Mexican girl was +rinsing glasses in a pail of water. + +The young man sauntered forward to the counter. He invited the company to +drink with him. + +"I'm looking for Juan Otero," he said presently. "Mr. Crawford wanted me +to see him about riding for him." + +There was a moment's silence. All of those present were Mexicans except +Dave. The girl flashed a warning look at her countrymen. That look, +Sanders guessed at once, would seal the lips of all of them. At once he +changed his tactics. What information he got would have to come directly +through the girl. He signaled her to join him outside. + +Presently she did so. The girl was a dusky young beauty, plump as a +partridge, with the soft-eyed charm of her age and race. + +"The señor wants to see me?" she asked. + +Her glance held a flash of mockery. She had seen many dirty, +poverty-stricken mavericks of humanity, but never a more battered +specimen than this gaunt, hollow-eyed tramp, black as a coal-heaver, +whose flesh showed grimy with livid wounds through the shreds of his +clothing. But beneath his steady look the derision died. Tattered his +coat and trousers might be. At least he was a prince in adversity. The +head on the splendid shoulders was still finely poised. He gave an +impression of indomitable strength. + +"I want Juan Otero," he said. + +"To ride for Señor Crawford." Her white teeth flashed and she lifted her +pretty shoulders in a shrug of mock regret. "Too bad he is not here. Some +other day--" + +"--will not do. I want him now." + +"But I have not got him hid." + +"Where is he? I don't want to harm him, but I must know. He took Joyce +Crawford into the hills last night to Dug Doble--pretended her father had +been hurt and he had been sent to lead her to him. I must save her--from +Doble, not from Otero. Help me. I will give you money--a hundred dollars, +two hundred." + +She stared at him. "Did Juan do that?" she murmured. + +"Yes. You know Doble. He's a devil. I must find him ... soon." + +"Juan has not been here for two days. I do not know where he is." + +The dust of a moving horse was traveling toward them from the hills. A +Mexican pulled up and swung from the saddle. The girl called a greeting +to him quickly before he could speak. "Buenos dios, Manuel. My father +is within, Manuel." + +The man looked at her a moment, murmured "Buenos, Bonita," and took a +step as though to enter the house. + +Dave barred the way. The flash of apprehension in Bonita's face, her +unnecessary repetition of the name, the man's questioning look at her, +told Sanders that this was the person he wanted. + +"Just a minute, Otero. Where did you leave Miss Crawford?" + +The Mexican's eyes contracted. To give himself time he fell again into +the device of pretending that he did not understand English. Dave spoke +in Spanish. The loafers in the bar-room came out to listen. + +"I do not know what you mean." + +"Don't lie to me. Where is she?" + +The keeper of the tendejon asked a suave question. He, too, talked in +Spanish. "Who are you, señor? A deputy sheriff, perhaps?" + +"No. My name is Dave Sanders. I'm Emerson Crawford's friend. If Juan will +help me save the girl he'll get off light and perhaps make some money. +I'll stand by him. But if he won't, I'll drag him back to Malapi and give +him to a mob." + +The sound of his name was a potent weapon. His fame had spread like +wildfire through the hills since his return from Colorado. He had scored +victory after victory against bad men without firing a gun. He had made +the redoubtable Dug Doble an object of jeers and had driven him to the +hills as an outlaw. Dave was unarmed. They could see that. But his quiet +confidence was impressive. If he said he would take Juan to Malapi with +him, none of them doubted he would do it. Had he not dragged Miller back +to justice--Miller who was a killer of unsavory reputation? + +Otero wished he had not come just now to see Bonita, but he stuck +doggedly to his statement. He knew nothing about it, nothing at all. + +"Crawford is sending out a dozen posses. They will close the passes. +Doble will be caught. They will kill him like a wolf. Then they will kill +you. If they don't find him, they will kill you anyhow." + +Dave spoke evenly, without raising his voice. Somehow he made what he +said seem as inevitable as fate. + +Bonita caught her lover by the arm and shoulder. She was afraid, and her +conscience troubled her vicariously for his wrongdoing. + +"Why did you do it, Juan?" she begged of him. + +"He said she wanted to come, that she would marry him if she had a +chance. He said her father kept her from him," the man pleaded. "I didn't +know he was going to harm her." + +"Where is he? Take me to him, quick," said Sanders, relapsing into +English. + +"Si, señor. At once," agreed Otero, thoroughly frightened. + +"I want a six-shooter. Some one lend me one." + +None of them carried one, but Bonita ran into the house and brought back +a small bulldog. Dave looked it over without enthusiasm. It was a pretty +poor concern to take against a man who carried two forty-fives and knew +how to use them. But he thrust it into his pocket and swung to the +saddle. It was quite possible he might be killed by Doble, but he had a +conviction that the outlaw had come to the end of the passage. He was +going to do justice on the man once for all. He regarded this as a +certainty. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +THE BULLDOG BARKS + + +Joyce fainted for the first time in her life. + +When she recovered consciousness Doble was splashing water in her face. +She was lying on the bunk from which she had fled a few minutes earlier. +The girl made a motion to rise and he put a heavy hand on her shoulder. + +"Keep your hand off me!" she cried. + +"Don't be a fool," he told her irritably. "I ain't gonna hurt you +none--if you behave reasonable:" + +"Let me go," she demanded, and struggled to a sitting position on the +couch. "You let me go or my father--" + +"What'll he do?" demanded the man brutally. "I've stood a heap from +that father of yore's. I reckon this would even the score even if I +hadn't--" He pulled up, just in time to keep from telling her that he had +fired the chaparral. He was quite sober enough to distrust his tongue. It +was likely, he knew, to let out some things that had better not be told. + +She tried to slip by him and he thrust her back. + +"Let me go!" she demanded. "At once!" + +"You're not gonna go," he told her flatly. "You'll stay here--with me. +For keeps. Un'erstand?" + +"Have you gone crazy?" she asked wildly, her heart fluttering like a +frightened bird in a cage. "Don't you know my father will search the +whole country for me?" + +"Too late. We travel south soon as it's dark." He leaned forward and put +a hand on her knee, regardless of the fact that she shrank back quivering +from his touch. "Listen, girl. You been a high-stepper. Yore heels click +mighty loud when they hit the sidewalk. Good enough. Go far as you like. +I never did fancy the kind o' women that lick a man's hand. But you made +one mistake. I'm no doormat, an' nobody alive can wipe their feet on me. +You turned me down cold. You had the ol' man kick me outa my job as +foreman of the ranch. I told him an' you both I'd git even. But I don't +aim to rub it in. I'm gonna give you a chance to be Mrs. Doble. An' when +you marry me you git a man for a husband." + +"I'll never marry you! Never! I'd rather be dead in my grave!" she broke +out passionately. + +He went to the table, poured himself a drink, and gulped it down. His +laugh was sinister and mirthless. + +"Please yorese'f, sweetheart," he jeered. "Only you won't be dead in +yore grave. You'll be keepin' house for Dug Doble. I'm not insistin' on +weddin' bells none. But women have their fancies an' I aim to be kind. +Take 'em or leave 'em." + +She broke down and wept, her face in her hands. In her sheltered life she +had known only decent, clean-minded people. She did not know how to cope +with a man like this. The fear of him rose in her throat and choked her. +This dreadful thing he threatened could not be, she told herself. God +would not permit it. He would send her father or Dave Sanders or Bob Hart +to rescue her. And yet--when she looked at the man, big, gross, dominant, +flushed with drink and his triumph--the faith in her became a weak and +fluid stay for her soul. She collapsed like a child and sobbed. + +Her wild alarm annoyed him. He was angered at her uncontrollable shudders +when he drew near. There was a savage desire in him to break through the +defense of her helplessness once for all. But his caution urged delay. He +must give her time to get accustomed to the idea of him. She had sense +enough to see that she must make the best of the business. When the +terror lifted from her mind she would be reasonable. + +He repeated again that he was not going to hurt her if she met him +halfway, and to show good faith went out and left her alone. + +The man sat down on a chopping-block outside and churned his hatred of +Sanders and Crawford. He spurred himself with drink, under its influence +recalling the injuries they had done him. His rage and passion simmered, +occasionally exploded into raucous curses. Once he strode into the house, +full of furious intent, but the eyes of the girl daunted him. They looked +at him as they might have looked at a tiger padding toward her. + +He flung out of the house again, snarling at his own weakness. There was +something in him stronger than passion, stronger than his reckless will, +that would not let him lay a hand on her in the light of day. His +bloodshot eyes looked for the sun. In a few hours now it would be dark. + +While he lounged sullenly on the chopping-block, shoulders and head +sunken, a sound brought him to alert attention. A horseman was galloping +down the slope on the other side of the valley. + +Doble eased his guns to make sure of them. Intently he watched the +approaching figure. He recognized the horse, Chiquito, and then, with an +oath, the rider. His eyes gleamed with evil joy. At last! At last he and +Dave Sanders would settle accounts. One of them would be carried out of +the valley feet first. + +Sanders leaped to the ground at the same instant that he pulled Chiquito +up. The horse was between him and his enemy. + +The eyes of the men crossed in a long, level look. + +"Where's Joyce Crawford?" asked Dave. + +"That yore business?" Doble added to his retort the insult unmentionable. + +"I'm makin' it mine. What have you done with her?" The speech of the +younger man took on again the intonation of earlier days. "I'm here to +find out." + +A swish of skirts, a soft patter of feet, and Joyce was beside her +friend, clinging to him, weeping in his arms. + +Doble moved round in a wide circumference. When shooting began he did not +want his foe to have the protection of the horse's body. Not even for the +beat of a lid did the eyes of either man lift from the other. + +"Go back to the house, Joyce," said Dave evenly. "I want to talk with +this man alone." + +The girl clung the tighter to him. "No, Dave, no! It's been ... awful." + +The outlaw drew his long-barreled six-shooter, still circling the group. +He could not fire without running a risk of hitting Joyce. + +"Hidin' behind a woman, are you?" he taunted, and again flung the epithet +men will not tolerate. + +At any moment he might fire. Dave caught the wrists of the girl, dragged +them down from his neck, and flung her roughly from him to the ground. He +pulled out his little bulldog. + +Doble fired and Dave fell. The outlaw moved cautiously closer, exultant +at his marksmanship. His enemy lay still, the pistol in his hand. +Apparently Sanders had been killed at the first shot. + +"Come to git me with that popgun, did you? Hmp! Fat chance." The bad man +fired again, still approaching very carefully. + +Round the corner of the house a man had come. He spoke quickly. "Turn +yore gun this way, Dug." + +It was Shorty. His revolver flashed at the same instant. Doble staggered, +steadied himself, and fired. + +The forty-fives roared. Yellow flames and smoke spurted. The bulldog +barked. Dave's parlor toy had come into action. + +Out of the battle Shorty and Sanders came erect and uninjured. Doble +was lying on the ground, his revolver smoking a foot or two from the +twitching, outstretched hand. + +The outlaw was dead before Shorty turned him over. A bullet had passed +through the heart. Another had struck him on the temple, a third in the +chest. + +"We got him good," said Shorty. "It was comin' to him. I reckon you don't +know that he fired the chaparral on purpose. Wanted to wipe out the +Jackpot, I s'pose. Yes, Dug sure had it comin' to him." + +Dave said nothing. He looked down at the man, eyes hard as jade, jaw +clamped tight. He knew that but for Shorty's arrival he would probably be +lying there himself. + +"I was aimin' to shoot it out with him before I heard of this last +scullduggery. Soon as the kid woke me I hustled up my intentions." The +bad man looked at Dave's weapon with the flicker of a smile on his face. +"He called it a popgun. I took notice it was a right busy li'l' +plaything. But you got yore nerve all right. I'd say you hadn't a chance +in a thousand. You played yore hand fine, keelin' over so's he'd come +clost enough for you to get a crack at him. At that, he'd maybe 'a' got +you if I hadn't drapped in." + +"Yes," said Sanders. + +He walked across to the corral fence, where Joyce sat huddled against the +lower bars. + +She lifted her head and looked at him from wan eyes out of which the life +had been stricken. They stared at him in dumb, amazed questioning. + +Dave lifted her from the ground. + +"I... I thought you... were dead," she whispered. + +"Not even powder-burnt. His six-shooter outranged mine. I was trying to +get him closer." + +"Is he...?" + +"Yes. He'll never trouble any of us again." + +She shuddered in his arms. + +Dave ached for her in every tortured nerve. He did not know, and it was +not his place to ask, what price she had had to pay. + +Presently she told him, not in words, without knowing what he was +suffering for her. A ghost of a smile touched her eyes. + +"I knew you would come. It's all right now." + +His heart leaped. "Yes, it's all right, Joyce." + +She recurred to her fears for him. "You're not ... hiding any wounds from +me? I saw you fall and lie there while he shot at you." + +"He never touched me." + +She disengaged herself from his arms and looked at him, wan, haggard, +unshaven, eyes sunken, a tattered wretch scarred with burns. + +"What have you done to yourself?" she asked, astonished at his +appearance. + +"Souvenirs of the fire," he told her. "They'll wash and wear off. Don't +suppose I look exactly pretty." + +He had never looked so handsome in her eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +JOYCE MAKES PIES + + +Juan Otero carried the news back to Malapi. He had been waiting on the +crest of the hill to see the issue of the adventure and had come forward +when Dave gave him a signal. + +Shorty brought Keith in from where he had left the boy in the brush. The +youngster flew into his sister's arms. They wept over each other and she +petted him with caresses and little kisses. + +Afterward she made some supper from the supplies Doble had laid in for +his journey south. The men went down to the creek, where they bathed and +washed their wounds. Darkness had not yet fallen when they went to sleep, +all of them exhausted by the strain through which they had passed. + +Not until the cold crystal dawn did they awaken. Joyce was the first up. +She had breakfast well under way before she had Keith call the still +sleeping men. With the power of quick recuperation which an outdoor life +had given them, both Shorty and Dave were fit for any exertion again, +though Sanders was still suffering from his burns. + +After they had eaten they saddled. Shorty gave them a casual nod of +farewell. + +"Tell Applegate to look me up in Mexico if he wants me," he said. + +Joyce would not let it go at that. She made him shake hands. He was in +the saddle, and her eyes lifted to his and showered gratitude on him. + +"We'll never forget you--never," she promised. "And we do so hope you'll +be prosperous and happy." + +He grinned down at her sheepishly. "Same to you, Miss," he said; and +added, with a flash of audacity, "To you and Dave both." + +He headed south, the others north. + +From the hilltop Dave looked back at the squat figure steadily +diminishing with distance. Shorty was moving toward Mexico, unhasting and +with a certain sureness of purpose characteristic of him. + +Joyce smiled. It was the first signal of unquenchable youth she had +flashed since she had been trapped into this terrible adventure. "I +believe you admire him, Dave," she mocked. "You're just as grateful to +him as I am, but you won't admit it. He's not a bad man at all, really." + +"He's a good man gone bad. But I'll say this for Shorty. He's some _man_. +He'll do to ride the river with." + +"Yes." + +"At the fire he was the best fighter in my gang--saved one of the boys +at the risk of his own life. Shorty's no quitter." + +She shut her teeth on a little wave of emotion. Then, "I'm awful sorry +for him," she said. + +He nodded appreciation of her feeling. "I know, but you don't need to +worry any. He'll not worry about himself. He's sufficient, and he'll get +along." + +They put their horses to the trail again. + +Crawford met them some miles nearer town. He had been unable to wait for +their arrival. Neither he nor the children could restrain their emotion +at sight of each other. Dave felt they might like to be alone and he left +the party, to ride across to the tendejon with Bonita's bulldog revolver. + +That young woman met him in front of the house. She was eager for news. +Sanders told her what had taken place. They spoke in her tongue. + +"And Juan--is it all right about him?" she asked. + +"Juan has wiped the slate clean. Mr. Crawford wants to know when Bonita +is to be married. He has a wedding present for her." + +She was all happy smiles when he left her. + +Late that afternoon Bob Hart reached town. He and Dave were alone in the +Jackpot offices when the latter forced himself to open a subject that had +always been closed between them. Sanders came to it reluctantly. No man +had ever found a truer friend than he in Bob Hart. The thing he was going +to do seemed almost like a stab in the back. + +"How about you and Joyce, Bob?" he asked abruptly. + +The eyes of the two met and held. "What about us, Dave?" + +"It's like this," Sanders said, flushed and embarrassed. "You were here +first. You're entitled to first chance. I meant to keep out of it, but +things have come up in spite of me. I want to do whatever seems right to +you. My idea is to go away till--till you've settled how you stand with +her. Is that fair?" + +Bob smiled, ruefully. "Fair enough, old-timer. But no need of it. I never +had a chance with Joyce, not a dead man's look-in. Found that out before +ever you came home. The field's clear far as I'm concerned. Hop to it an' +try yore luck." + +Dave took his advice, within the hour. He found Joyce at home in the +kitchen. She was making pies energetically. The sleeves of her dress were +rolled up to the elbows and there was a dab of flour on her temple where +she had brushed back a rebellious wisp of hair. + +She blushed prettily at sight of her caller. "I didn't know it was you +when I called to come in. Thought it was Keith playing a trick on me." + +Both of them were embarrassed. She did not know what to do with him in +the kitchen and he did not know what to do with himself. The girl was +acutely conscious that yesterday she had flung herself into his arms +without shame. + +"I'll go right on with my pies if you don't mind," she said. "I can talk +while I work." + +"Yes." + +But neither of them talked. She rolled pie-crust while the silence grew +significant. + +"Are your burns still painful?" she asked at last, to make talk. + +"Yes--no. Beg pardon, I--I was thinking of something else." + +Joyce flashed one swift look at him. She knew that an emotional crisis +was upon her. He was going to brush aside the barriers between them. Her +pulses began to beat fast. There was the crash of music in her blood. + +"I've got to tell you, Joyce," he said abruptly. "It's been a fight for +me ever since I came home. I love you. I think I always have--even when +I was in prison." + +She waited, the eyes in her lovely, flushed face shining. + +"I had no right to think of you then," he went on. "I kept away from you. +I crushed down hope. I nursed my bitterness to prove to me there could +never be anything between us. Then Miller confessed and--and we took our +walk over the hills. After that the sun shone. I came out from the mists +where I had been living." + +"I'm glad," she said in a low voice. "But Miller's confession made no +difference in my thought of you. I didn't need that to know you." + +"But I couldn't come to you even then. I knew how Bob Hart felt, and +after all he'd done for me it was fair he should have first chance." + +She looked at him, smiling shyly. "You're very generous." + +"No. I thought you cared for him. It seemed to me any woman must. There +aren't many men like Bob." + +"Not many," she agreed. "But I couldn't love Bob because"--her steadfast +eyes met his bravely--"because of another man. Always have loved him, +ever since that night years ago when he saved my father's life. Do you +really truly love me, Dave?" + +"God knows I do," he said, almost in a whisper. + +"I'm glad--oh, awf'ly glad." She gave him her hands, tears in her soft +brown eyes. "Because I've been waiting for you so long. I didn't know +whether you ever were coming to me." + +Crawford found them there ten minutes later. He was looking for Joyce to +find him a collar-button that was missing. + +"Dawggone my hide!" he fumed, and stopped abruptly, the collar-button +forgotten. + +Joyce flew out of Dave's arms into her father's. + +"Oh, Daddy, Daddy, I'm so happy," she whispered from the depths of his +shoulder. + +The cattleman looked at Dave, and his rough face worked. "Boy, you're +in luck. Be good to her, or I'll skin you alive." He added, by way of +softening this useless threat, "I'd rather it was you than anybody on +earth, Dave." + +The young man looked at her, his Joy-in-life, the woman who had brought +him back to youth and happiness, and he answered with a surge of emotion: + +"I'll sure try." + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gunsight Pass, by William MacLeod Raine + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GUNSIGHT PASS *** + +***** This file should be named 14574-8.txt or 14574-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/5/7/14574/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Beginners Projects, Mary Meehan, and the +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. 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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/14574-8.zip b/old/14574-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf8b7d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14574-8.zip diff --git a/old/14574.txt b/old/14574.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9a878ce --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14574.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10852 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Gunsight Pass, 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: Gunsight Pass + How Oil Came to the Cattle Country and Brought a New West + +Author: William MacLeod Raine + +Release Date: January 3, 2005 [EBook #14574] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GUNSIGHT PASS *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Beginners Projects, Mary Meehan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + + GUNSIGHT PASS + + HOW OIL CAME TO THE CATTLE COUNTRY AND BROUGHT A NEW WEST + + BY WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE + +AUTHOR OF THE BIG-TOWN ROUND-UP, A MAN FOUR SQUARE, THE YUKON TRAIL, ETC. + + 1921 + + + + +TO JAMES H. LANGLEY + +WHO LIVED MANY OF THESE PAGES IN THE DAYS OF HIS HOT-BLOODED YOUTH + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. "CROOKED AS A DOG'S HIND LAIG" + + II. THE RACE + + III. DAVE RIDES ON HIS SPURS + + IV. THE PAINT HOSS DISAPPEARS + + V. SUPPER AT DELMONICO'S INTERRUPTED + + VI. BY WAY OF A WINDOW + + VII. BOB HART TAKES A HAND + + VIII. THE D BAR LAZY R BOYS MEET AN ANGEL + + IX. GUNSIGHT PASS + + X. THE CATTLE TRAIN + + XI. THE NIGHT CLERK GETS BUSY PRONTO + + XII. THE LAW PUZZLES DAVE + + XIII. FOR MURDER + + XIV. TEN YEARS + + XV. IN DENVER + + XVI. DAVE MEETS TWO FRIENDS AND A FOE + + XVII. OIL + + XVIII. DOBLE PAYS A VISIT + + XIX. AN INVOLUNTARY BATH + + XX. THE LITTLE MOTHER FREES HER MIND + + XXI. THE HOLD-UP + + XXII. NUMBER THREE COMES IN + + XXIII. THE GUSHER + + XXIV. SHORTY + + XXV. MILLER TALKS + + XXVI. DAVE ACCEPTS AN INVITATION + + XXVII. AT THE JACKPOT + + XXVIII. DAVE MEETS A FINANCIER + + XXIX. THREE IN CONSULTATION + + XXX. ON THE FLYER + + XXXI. TWO ON THE HILLTOPS + + XXXII. DAVE BECOMES AN OFFICE MAN + + XXXIII. ON THE DODGE + + XXXIV. A PLEASANT EVENING + + XXXV. FIRE IN THE CHAPARRAL + + XXXVI. FIGHTING FIRE + + XXXVII. SHORTY ASK A QUESTION + + XXXVIII. DUG DOBLE RIDES INTO THE HILLS + + XXXIX. THE TUNNEL + + XL. A MESSAGE + + XLI. HANK BRINGS BAD NEWS + + XLII. SHORTY IS AWAKENED + + XLIII. JUAN OTERO IS CONSCRIPTED + + XLIV. THE BULLDOG BARKS + + XLV. JOYCE MAKES PIES + + + + +GUNSIGHT PASS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +"CROOKED AS A DOG'S HIND LAIG" + + +It was a land of splintered peaks, of deep, dry gorges, of barren mesas +burnt by the suns of a million torrid summers. The normal condition of it +was warfare. Life here had to protect itself with a tough, callous rind, +to attack with a swift, deadly sting. Only the fit survived. + +But moonlight had magically touched the hot, wrinkled earth with a fairy +godmother's wand. It was bathed in a weird, mysterious beauty. Into the +crotches of the hills lakes of wondrous color had been poured at sunset. +The crests had flamed with crowns of glory, the canons become deep pools +of blue and purple shadow. Blurred by kindly darkness, the gaunt ridges +had softened to pastels of violet and bony mountains to splendid +sentinels keeping watch over a gulf of starlit space. + +Around the camp-fire the drivers of the trail herd squatted on their +heels or lay sprawled at indolent ease. The glow of the leaping flames +from the twisted mesquite lit their lean faces, tanned to bronzed health +by the beat of an untempered sun and the sweep of parched winds. Most of +them were still young, scarcely out of their boyhood; a few had reached +maturity. But all were products of the desert. The high-heeled boots, the +leather chaps, the kerchiefs knotted round the neck, were worn at its +insistence. Upon every line of their features, every shade of their +thought, it had stamped its brand indelibly. + +The talk was frank and elemental. It had the crisp crackle that goes with +free, unfettered youth. In a parlor some of it would have been offensive, +but under the stars of the open desert it was as natural as the life +itself. They spoke of the spring rains, of the Crawford-Steelman feud, of +how they meant to turn Malapi upside down in their frolic when they +reached town. They "rode" each other with jokes that were familiar old +friends. Their horse play was rough but good-natured. + +Out of the soft shadows of the summer night a boy moved from the remuda +toward the camp-fire. He was a lean, sandy-haired young fellow, his +figure still lank and unfilled. In another year his shoulders would be +broader, his frame would take on twenty pounds. As he sat down on the +wagon tongue at the edge of the firelit circle the stringiness of his +appearance became more noticeable. + +A young man waved a hand toward him by way of introduction. "Gents of the +D Bar Lazy R outfit, we now have with us roostin' on the wagon tongue Mr. +David Sanders, formerly of Arizona, just returned from makin' love to his +paint hoss. Mr. Sanders will make oration on the why, wherefore, and +how-come-it of Chiquito's superiority to all other equines whatever." + +The youth on the wagon tongue smiled. His blue eyes were gentle and +friendly. From his pocket he had taken a knife and was sharpening it on +one of his dawn-at-the-heel-boots. + +"I'd like right well to make love to that pinto my own se'f, Bob," +commented a weather-beaten puncher. "Any old time Dave wants to saw him +off onto me at sixty dollars I'm here to do business." + +"You're sure an easy mark, Buck," grunted a large fat man leaning against +a wheel. His white, expressionless face and soft hands differentiated him +from the tough range-riders. He did not belong with the outfit, but had +joined it the day before with George Doble, a half-brother of the trail +foreman, to travel with it as far as Malapi. In the Southwest he was +known as Ad Miller. The two men had brought with them in addition to +their own mounts a led pack-horse. + +Doble backed up his partner. "Sure are, Buck. I can get cowponies for ten +and fifteen dollars--all I want of 'em," he said, and contrived by the +lift of his lip to make the remark offensive. + +"Not ponies like Chiquito," ventured Sanders amiably. + +"That so?" jeered Doble. + +He looked at David out of a sly and shifty eye. He had only one. The +other had been gouged out years ago in a drunken fracas. + +"You couldn't get Chiquito for a hundred dollars. Not for sale," the +owner of the horse said, a little stiffly. + +Miller's fat paunch shook with laughter. "I reckon not--at that price. +I'd give all of fohty for him." + +"Different here," replied Doble. "What has this pinto got that makes him +worth over thirty?" + +"He's some bronc," explained Bob Hart. "Got a bagful of tricks, a nice +disposition, and sure can burn the wind." + +"Yore friend must be valuin' them parlor tricks at ten dollars apiece," +murmured Miller. "He'd ought to put him in a show and not keep him to +chase cow tails with." + +"At that, I've seen circus hosses that weren't one two three with +Chiquito. He'll shake hands and play dead and dance to a mouth-organ and +come a-runnin' when Dave whistles." + +"You don't say." The voice of the fat man was heavy with sarcasm. "And on +top of all that edjucation he can run too." + +The temper of Sanders began to take an edge. He saw no reason why these +strangers should run on him, to use the phrase of the country. "I don't +claim my pinto's a racer, but he can travel." + +"Hmp!" grunted Miller skeptically. + +"I'm here to say he can," boasted the owner, stung by the manner of the +other. + +"Don't look to me like no racer," Doble dissented. "Why, I'd be 'most +willin' to bet that pack-horse of ours, Whiskey Bill, can beat him." + +Buck Byington snorted. "Pack-horse, eh?" The old puncher's brain was +alive with suspicions. On account of the lameness of his horse he had +returned to camp in the middle of the day and had discovered the two +newcomers trying out the speed of the pinto. He wondered now if this +precious pair of crooks had been getting a line on the pony for future +use. It occurred to him that Dave was being engineered into a bet. + +The chill, hard eyes of Miller met his. "That's what he said, Buck--our +pack-horse." + +For just an instant the old range-rider hesitated, then shrugged his +shoulders. It was none of his business. He was a cautious man, not +looking for trouble. Moreover, the law of the range is that every man +must play his own hand. So he dropped the matter with a grunt that +expressed complete understanding and derision. + +Bob Hart helped things along. "Jokin' aside, what's the matter with a +race? We'll be on the Salt Flats to-morrow. I've got ten bucks says the +pinto can beat yore Whiskey Bill." + +"Go you once," answered Doble after a moment's apparent consideration. +"Bein' as I'm drug into this I'll be a dead-game sport. I got fifty +dollars more to back the pack-horse. How about it, Sanders? You got +the sand to cover that? Or are you plumb scared of my broomtail?" + +"Betcha a month's pay--thirty-five dollars. Give you an order on the boss +if I lose," retorted Dave. He had not meant to bet, but he could not +stand this fellow's insolent manner. + +"That order good, Dug?" asked Doble of his half-brother. + +The foreman nodded. He was a large leather-faced man in the late +thirties. His reputation in the cattle country was that of a man ill to +cross. Dug Doble was a good cowman--none better. Outside of that his +known virtues were negligible, except for the primal one of gameness. + +"Might as well lose a few bucks myself, seeing as Whiskey Bill belongs to +me," said Miller with his wheezy laugh. "Who wants to take a whirl, +boys?" + +Inside of three minutes he had placed a hundred dollars. The terms of the +race were arranged and the money put in the hands of the foreman. + +"Each man to ride his own caballo," suggested Hart slyly. + +This brought a laugh. The idea of Ad Miller's two hundred and fifty +pounds in the seat of a jockey made for hilarity. + +"I reckon George will have to ride the broomtail. We don't aim to break +its back," replied Miller genially. + +His partner was a short man with a spare, wiry body. Few men trusted him +after a glance at the mutilated face. The thin, hard lips gave warning +that he had sold himself to evil. The low forehead, above which the hair +was plastered flat in an arc, advertised low mentality. + +An hour later Buck Byington drew Sanders aside. + +"Dave, you're a chuckle-haided rabbit. If ever I seen tinhorn sports them +two is such. They're collectin' a livin' off'n suckers. Didn't you sabe +that come-on stuff? Their pack-horse is a ringer. They tried him out +this evenin', but I noticed they ran under a blanket. Both of 'em are +crooked as a dog's hind laig." + +"Maybeso," admitted the young man. "But Chiquito never went back on me +yet. These fellows may be overplayin' their hand, don't you reckon?" + +"Not a chanct. That tumblebug Miller is one fishy proposition, and his +sidekick Doble--say, he's the kind of bird that shoots you in the stomach +while he's shakin' hands with you. They're about as warm-hearted as a +loan shark when he's turnin' on the screws--and about as impulsive. Me, +I aim to button up my pocket when them guys are around." + +Dave returned to the fire. The two visitors were sitting side by side, +and the leaping flames set fantastic shadows of them moving. One of +these, rooted where Miller sat, was like a bloated spider watching its +victim. The other, dwarfed and prehensile, might in its uncanny +silhouette have been an imp of darkness from the nether regions. + +Most of the riders had already rolled up in their blankets and fallen +asleep. To a reduced circle Miller was telling the story of how his +pack-horse won its name. + +"... so I noticed he was actin' kinda funny and I seen four pin-pricks in +his nose. O' course I hunted for Mr. Rattler and killed him, then give +Bill a pint of whiskey. It ce'tainly paralyzed him proper. He got +salivated as a mule whacker on a spree. His nose swelled up till it was +big as a barrel--never did get down to normal again. Since which the ol' +plug has been Whiskey Bill." + +This reminiscence did not greatly entertain Dave. He found his blankets, +rolled up in them, and promptly fell asleep. For once he dreamed, and his +dreams were not pleasant. He thought that he was caught in a net woven by +a horribly fat spider which watched him try in vain to break the web that +tightened on his arms and legs. Desperately he struggled to escape while +the monster grinned at him maliciously, and the harder he fought the more +securely was he enmeshed. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE RACE + + +The coyotes were barking when the cook's triangle brought Dave from his +blankets. The objects about him were still mysterious in the pre-dawn +darkness. The shouting of the wranglers and the bells of the remuda +came musically as from a great distance. Hart joined his friend and the +two young men walked out to the remuda together. Each rider had on the +previous night belled the mount he wanted, for he knew that in the +morning it would be too dark to distinguish one bronco from another. The +animals were rim-milling, going round and round in a circle to escape the +lariat. + +Dave rode in close and waited, rope ready, his ears attuned to the sound +of his own bell. A horse rushed jingling past. The rope snaked out, fell +true, tightened over the neck of the cowpony, brought up the animal +short. Instantly it surrendered, making no further, attempt to escape. +The roper made a half-hitch round the nose of the bronco, swung to its +back, and cantered back to camp. + +In the gray dawn near details were becoming visible. The mountains began +to hover on the edge of the young world. The wind was blowing across half +a continent. + +Sanders saddled, then rode out upon the mesa. He whistled sharply. There +came an answering nicker, and presently out of the darkness a pony +trotted. The pinto was a sleek and glossy little fellow, beautiful in +action and gentle as a kitten. + +The young fellow took the well-shaped head in his arms, fondled the +soft, dainty nose that nuzzled in his pocket for sugar, fed Chiquito a +half-handful of the delicacy in his open palm, and put the pony through +the repertoire of tricks he had taught his pet. + +"You wanta shake a leg to-day, old fellow, and throw dust in that +tinhorn's face," he murmured to his four-footed friend, gentling it with +little pats of love and admiration. "Adios, Chiquito. I know you won't +throw off on yore old pal. So long, old pie-eater." + +Across the mesa Dave galloped back, swung from the saddle, and made a +bee-line for breakfast. The other men were already busy at this important +business. From the tail of the chuck wagon he took a tin cup and a tin +plate. He helped himself to coffee, soda biscuits, and a strip of steak +just forked from a large kettle of boiling lard. Presently more coffee, +more biscuits, and more steak went the way of the first helping. The +hard-riding life of the desert stimulates a healthy appetite. + +The punchers of the D Bar Lazy R were moving a large herd to a new range. +It was made up of several lots bought from smaller outfits that had gone +out of business under the pressure of falling prices, short grass, and +the activity of rustlers. The cattle had been loose-bedded in a gulch +close at hand, the upper end of which was sealed by an impassable cliff. +Many such canons in the wilder part of the mountains, fenced across the +face to serve as a corral, had been used by rustlers as caches into which +to drift their stolen stock. This one had no doubt more than once played +such a part in days past. + +Expertly the riders threw the cattle back to the mesa and moved them +forward. Among the bunch one could find the T Anchor brand, the Circle +Cross, the Diamond Tail, and the X-Z, scattered among the cows burned +with the D Bar Lazy R, which was the original brand of the owner, +Emerson Crawford. + +The sun rose and filled the sky. In a heavy cloud of dust the cattle +trailed steadily toward the distant hills. + +Near noon Buck, passing Dave where he rode as drag driver in the wake of +the herd, shouted a greeting at the young man. "Tur'ble hot. I'm spittin' +cotton." + +Dave nodded. His eyes were red and sore from the alkali dust, his throat +dry as a lime kiln. "You done, said it, Buck. Hotter 'n hell or Yuma." + +"Dug says for us to throw off at Seven-Mile Hole." + +"I won't make no holler at that." + +The herd leaders, reading the signs of a spring close at hand, quickened +the pace. With necks outstretched, bawling loudly, they hurried forward. +Forty-eight hours ago they had last satisfied their thirst. Usually Doble +watered each noon, but the desert yesterday had been dry as Sahara. Only +such moisture was available as could be found in black grama and needle +grass. + +The point of the herd swung in toward the cottonwoods that straggled down +from the draw. For hours the riders were kept busy moving forward the +cattle that had been watered and holding back the pressure of thirsty +animals. + +Again the outfit took the desert trail. Heat waves played on the sand. +Vegetation grew scant except for patches of cholla and mesquite, a +sand-cherry bush here and there, occasionally a clump of shining poison +ivy. + +Sunset brought them to the Salt Flats. The foreman gave orders to throw +off and make camp. + +A course was chosen for the race. From a selected point the horses +were to run to a clump of mesquite, round it, and return to the +starting-place. Dug Doble was chosen both starter and judge. + +Dave watched Whiskey Bill with the trained eyes of a horseman. The animal +was an ugly brute as to the head. Its eyes were set too close, and the +shape of the nose was deformed from the effects of the rattlesnake's +sting. But in legs and body it had the fine lines of a racer. The horse +was built for speed. The cowpuncher's heart sank. His bronco was fast, +willing, and very intelligent, but the little range pony had not been +designed to show its heels to a near-thoroughbred. + +"Are you ready?" Doble asked of the two men in the saddles. + +His brother said, "Let 'er go!" Sanders nodded. The revolver barked. + +Chiquito was off like a flash of light, found its stride instantly. The +training of a cowpony makes for alertness, for immediate response. Before +it had covered seventy-five yards the pinto was three lengths to the +good. Dave, flying toward the halfway post, heard his friend Hart's +triumphant "Yip yip yippy yip!" coming to him on the wind. + +He leaned forward, patting his horse on the shoulder, murmuring words of +encouragement into its ear. But he knew, without turning round, that the +racer galloping at his heels was drawing closer. Its long shadow thrown +in front of it by the westering sun, reached to Dave's stirrups, crept to +Chiquito's head, moved farther toward the other shadow plunging wildly +eastward. Foot by foot the distance between the horses lessened to two +lengths, to one, to half a length. The ugly head of the racer came +abreast of the cowpuncher. With sickening certainty the range-rider knew +that his Chiquito was doing the best that was in it. Whiskey Bill was a +faster horse. + +Simultaneously he became aware of two things. The bay was no longer +gaining. The halfway mark was just ahead. The cowpuncher knew exactly how +to make the turn with the least possible loss of speed and ground. Too +often, in headlong pursuit of a wild hill steer, he had whirled as on a +dollar, to leave him any doubt now. Scarce slackening speed, he swept the +pinto round the clump of mesquite and was off for home. + +Dave was halfway back before he was sure that the thud of Whiskey Bill's +hoofs was almost at his heels. He called on the cowpony for a last spurt. +The plucky little horse answered the call, gathered itself for the home +stretch, for a moment held its advantage. Again Bob Hart's yell drifted +to Sanders. + +Then he knew that the bay was running side by side with Chiquito, was +slowly creeping to the front. The two horses raced down the stretch +together, Whiskey Bill half a length in the lead and gaining at every +stride. Daylight showed between them when they crossed the line. Chiquito +had been outrun by a speedier horse. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DAVE RIDES ON HIS SPURS + + +Hart came up to his friend grinning. "Well, you old horn-toad, we got no +kick comin'. Chiquito run a mighty pretty race. Only trouble was his +laigs wasn't long enough." + +The owner of the pony nodded, a lump in his throat. He was not thinking +about his thirty-five dollars, but about the futile race into which he +had allowed his little beauty to be trapped. Dave would not be twenty-one +till coming grass, and it still hurt his boyish pride to think that his +favorite had been beaten. + +Another lank range-rider drifted up. "Same here, Dave. I'll kiss my +twenty bucks good-bye cheerful. You 'n' the li'l hoss run the best race, +at that. Chiquito started like a bullet out of a gun, and say, boys! how +he did swing round on the turn." + +"Much obliged, Steve. I reckon he sure done his best," said Sanders +gratefully. + +The voice of George Doble cut in, openly and offensively jubilant. "Me, +I'd ruther show the way at the finish than at the start. You're more +liable to collect the mazuma. I'll tell you now that broomtail never +had a chance to beat Whiskey Bill." + +"Yore hoss can run, seh," admitted Dave. + +"I _know_ it, but you don't. He didn't have to take the kinks out of his +legs to beat that plug." + +"You get our money," said Hart quietly. "Ain't that enough without +rubbin' it in?" + +"Sure I get yore money--easy money, at that," boasted Doble. "Got any +more you want to put up on the circus bronc?" + +Steve Russell voiced his sentiments curtly. "You make me good and tired, +Doble. There's only one thing I hate more'n a poor loser--and that's a +poor winner. As for putting my money on the pinto, I'll just say this: +I'll bet my li'l' pile he can beat yore bay twenty miles, a hundred +miles, or five hundred." + +"Not any, thanks. Whiskey Bill is a racer, not a mule team," Miller said, +laughing. + +Steve loosened the center-fire cinch of his pony's saddle. He noted that +there was no real geniality in the fat man's mirth. It was a surface +thing designed to convey an effect of good-fellowship. Back of it lay +the chill implacability of the professional gambler. + +The usual give-and-take of gay repartee was missing at supper that night. +Since they were of the happy-go-lucky, outdoor West it did not greatly +distress the D Bar Lazy R riders to lose part of their pay checks. Even +if it had, their spirits would have been unimpaired, for it is written in +their code that a man must take his punishment without whining. What hurt +was that they had been tricked, led like lambs to the killing. None of +them doubted now that the pack-horse of the gamblers was a "ringer." +These men had deliberately crossed the path of the trail outfit in order +to take from the vaqueros their money. + +The punchers were sulky. Instead of a fair race they had been up against +an open-and-shut proposition, as Russell phrased it. The jeers of Doble +did not improve their tempers. The man was temperamentally mean-hearted. +He could not let his victims alone. + +"They say one's born every minute, Ad. Dawged if I don't believe it," he +sneered. + +Miller was not saying much himself, but his fat stomach shook at this +sally. If his partner could goad the boys into more betting he was quite +willing to divide the profits. + +Audibly Hart yawned and murmured his sentiments aloud. "I'm liable to +tell these birds what I think of 'em, Steve, if they don't spend quite +some time layin' off'n us." + +"Don't tell us out loud. We might hear you," advised Doble insolently. + +"In regards to that, I'd sure worry if you did." + +Dave was at that moment returning to his place with a cup of hot coffee. +By some perverse trick of fate his glance fell on Doble's sinister face +of malignant triumph. His self-control snapped, and in an instant the +whole course of his life was deflected from the path it would otherwise +have taken. With a flip he tossed up the tin cup so that the hot coffee +soused the crook. + +"Goddlemighty!" screamed Doble, leaping to his feet. He reached for his +forty-five, just as Sanders closed with him. The range-rider's revolver, +like that of most of his fellows, was in a blanket roll in the wagon. + +Miller, with surprising agility for a fat man, got to his feet and +launched himself at the puncher. Dave flung the smaller of his opponents +back against Steve, who was sitting tailor fashion beside him. The gunman +tottered and fell over Russell, who lost no time in pinning his hands to +the ground while Hart deftly removed the revolver from his pocket. + +Swinging round to face Miller, Dave saw at once that the big man had +chosen not to draw his gun. In spite of his fat the gambler was a +rough-and-tumble fighter of parts. The extra weight had come in recent +years, but underneath it lay roped muscles and heavy bones. Men often +remarked that they had never seen a fat man who could handle himself like +Ad Miller. The two clinched. Dave had the under hold and tried to trip +his bulkier foe. The other side-stepped, circling round. He got one hand +under the boy's chin and drove it up and back, flinging the range-rider +a dozen yards. + +Instantly Dave plunged at him. He had to get at close quarters, for he +could not tell when Miller would change his mind and elect to fight with +a gun. The man had chosen a hand-to-hand tussle, Dave knew, because he +was sure he could beat so stringy an opponent as himself. Once he got the +grip on him that he wanted the big gambler would crush him by sheer +strength. So, though the youngster had to get close, he dared not clinch. +His judgment was that his best bet was his fists. + +He jabbed at the big white face, ducked, and jabbed again. Now he was in +the shine of the moon; now he was in darkness. A red streak came out on +the white face opposite, and he knew he had drawn blood. Miller roared +like a bull and flailed away at him. More than one heavy blow jarred him, +sent a bolt of pain shooting through him. The only thing he saw was that +shining face. He pecked away at it with swift jabs, taking what +punishment he must and dodging the rest. + +Miller was furious. He had intended to clean up this bantam in about a +minute. He rushed again, broke through Dave's defense, and closed with +him. His great arms crushed into the ribs of his lean opponent. As they +swung round and round, Dave gasped for breath. He twisted and squirmed, +trying to escape that deadly hug. Somehow he succeeded in tripping his +huge foe. + +They went down locked together, Dave underneath. The puncher knew that if +he had room Miller would hammer his face to a pulp. He drew himself close +to the barrel body, arms and legs wound tight like hoops. + +Miller gave a yell of pain. Instinctively Dave moved his legs higher and +clamped them tighter. The yell rose again, became a scream of agony. + +"Lemme loose!" shrieked the man on top. "My Gawd, you're killin' me!" + +Dave had not the least idea what was disturbing Miller's peace of mind, +but whatever it was moved to his advantage. He clamped tighter, working +his heels into another secure position. The big man bellowed with pain. +"Take him off! Take him off!" he implored in shrill crescendo. + +"What's all this?" demanded an imperious voice. + +Miller was torn howling from the arms and legs that bound him and Dave +found himself jerked roughly to his feet. The big raw-boned foreman was +glaring at him above his large hook nose. The trail boss had been out +at the remuda with the jingler when the trouble began. He had arrived +in time to rescue his fat friend. + +"What's eatin' you, Sanders?" he demanded curtly. + +"He jumped George!" yelped Miller. + +Breathing hard, Dave faced his foe warily. He was in a better strategic +position than he had been, for he had pulled the revolver of the fat man +from its holster just as they were dragged apart. It was in his right +hand now, pressed close to his hip, ready for instant use if need be. He +could see without looking that Doble was still struggling ineffectively +in the grip of Russell. + +"Dave stumbled and spilt some coffee on George; then George he tried to +gun him. Miller mixed in then," explained Hart. + +The foreman glared. "None of this stuff while you're on the trail with my +outfit. Get that, Sanders? I won't have it." + +"Dave he couldn't hardly he'p hisse'f," Buck Byington broke in. "They was +runnin' on him considerable, Dug." + +"I ain't askin' for excuses. I'm tellin' you boys what's what," retorted +the road boss. "Sanders, give him his gun." + +The cowpuncher took a step backward. He had no intention of handing a +loaded gun to Miller while the gambler was in his present frame of mind. +That might be equivalent to suicide. He broke the revolver, turned the +cylinder, and shook out the cartridges. The empty weapon he tossed on the +ground. + +"He ripped me with his spurs," Miller said sullenly. "That's howcome I +had to turn him loose." + +Dave looked down at the man's legs. His trousers were torn to shreds. +Blood trickled down the lacerated calves where the spurs had roweled the +flesh cruelly. No wonder Miller had suddenly lost interest in the fight. +The vaquero thanked his lucky stars that he had not taken off his spurs +and left them with the saddle. + +The first thing that Dave did was to strike straight for the wagon where +his roll of bedding was. He untied the rope, flung open the blankets, and +took from inside the forty-five he carried to shoot rattlesnakes. This he +shoved down between his shirt and trousers where it would be handy for +use in case of need. His roll he brought back with him as a justification +for the trip to the wagon. He had no intention of starting anything. +All he wanted was not to be caught at a disadvantage a second time. + +Miller and the two Dobles were standing a little way apart talking +together in low tones. The fat man, his foot on the spoke of a wagon +wheel, was tying up one of his bleeding calves with a bandanna +handkerchief. Dave gathered that his contribution to the conversation +consisted mainly of fervent and almost tearful profanity. + +The brothers appeared to be debating some point with heat. George +insisted, and the foreman gave up with a lift of his big shoulders. + +"Have it yore own way. I hate to have you leave us after I tell you +there'll be no more trouble, but if that's how you feel about it I got +nothin' to say. What I want understood is this"--Dug Doble raised his +voice for all to hear--"that I'm boss of this outfit and won't stand for +any rough stuff. If the boys, or any one of 'em, can't lose their money +without bellyachin', they can get their time pronto." + +The two gamblers packed their race-horse, saddled, and rode away without +a word to any of the range-riders. The men round the fire gave no sign +that they knew the confidence men were on the map until after they had +gone. Then tongues began to wag, the foreman having gone to the edge of +the camp with them. + +"Well, my feelin's ain't hurt one li'l' bit because they won't play with +us no more," Steve Russell said, smiling broadly. + +"Can you blame that fat guy for not wantin' to play with Dave here?" +asked Hart, and he beamed at the memory of what he had seen. "Son, you +ce'tainly gave him one surprise party when yore rowels dug in." + +"Wonder to me he didn't stampede the cows, way he hollered," grinned a +third. "I don't grudge him my ten plunks. Not none. Dave he give me my +money's worth that last round." + +"I had a little luck," admitted Dave modestly. + +"Betcha," agreed Steve. "I was just startin' over to haul the fat guy off +Dave when he began bleatin' for us to come help him turn loose the bear. +I kinda took my time then." + +"Onct I went to a play called 'All's Well That Ends Well,'" said Byington +reminiscently. "At the Tabor Grand the-a-ter, in Denver." + +"Did it tell how a freckled cow-punch rode a fat tinhorn on his spurs?" +asked Hart. + +"Bet he wears stovepipes on his laigs next time he mixes it with Dave," +suggested one coffee-brown youth. "Well, looks like the show's over for +to-night. I'm gonna roll in." Motion carried unanimously. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE PAINT HOSS DISAPPEARS + + +Wakened by the gong, Dave lay luxuriously in the warmth of his blankets. +It was not for several moments that he remembered the fight or the +circumstances leading to it. The grin that lit his boyish face at thought +of its unexpected conclusion was a fleeting one, for he discovered that +it hurt his face to smile. Briskly he rose, and grunted "Ouch!" His sides +were sore from the rib squeezing of Miller's powerful arms. + +Byington walked out to the remuda with him. "How's the man-tamer this +glad mo'nin'?" he asked of Dave. + +"Fine and dandy, old lizard." + +"You sure got the deadwood on him when yore spurs got into action. A +man's like a watermelon. You cayn't tell how good he is till you thump +him. Miller is right biggity, and they say he's sudden death with a gun. +But when it come down to cases he hadn't the guts to go through and stand +the gaff." + +"He's been livin' soft too long, don't you reckon?" + +"No, sir. He just didn't have the sand in his craw to hang on and finish +you off whilst you was rippin' up his laigs." + +Dave roped his mount and rode out to meet Chiquito. The pinto was an +aristocrat in his way. He preferred to choose his company, was a little +disdainful of the cowpony that had no accomplishments. Usually he grazed +a short distance from the remuda, together with one of Bob Hart's string. +The two ponies had been brought up in the same bunch. + +This morning Dave's whistle brought no nicker of joy, no thud of hoofs +galloping out of the darkness to him. He rode deeper into the desert. No +answer came to his calls. At a canter he cut across the plain to the +wrangler. That young man had seen nothing of Chiquito since the evening +before, but this was not at all unusual. + +The cowpuncher returned to camp for breakfast and got permission of the +foreman to look for the missing horses. + +Beyond the flats was a country creased with draws and dry arroyos. From +one to another of these Dave went without finding a trace of the animals. +All day he pushed through cactus and mesquite heavy with gray dust. In +the late afternoon he gave up for the time and struck back to the flats. +It was possible that the lost broncos had rejoined the remuda of their +own accord or had been found by some of the riders gathering up strays. + +Dave struck the herd trail and followed it toward the new camp. A +horseman came out of the golden west of the sunset to meet him. For a +long time he saw the figure rising and falling in the saddle, the pony +moving in the even fox-trot of the cattle country. + +The man was Bob Hart. + +"Found 'em?" shouted Dave when he was close enough to be heard. + +"No, and we won't--not this side of Malapi. Those scalawags didn't make +camp last night. They kep' travelin'. If you ask me, they're movin' yet, +and they've got our broncs with 'em." + +This had already occurred to Dave as a possibility. "Any proof?" he asked +quietly. + +"A-plenty. I been ridin' on the point all day. Three-four times we cut +trail of five horses. Two of the five are bein' ridden. My Four-Bits hoss +has got a broken front hoof. So has one of the five." + +"Movin' fast, are they?" + +"You're damn whistlin'. They're hivin' off for parts unknown. Malapi +first off, looks like. They got friends there." + +"Steelman and his outfit will protect them while they hunt cover and make +a getaway. Miller mentioned Denver before the race--said he was figurin' +on goin' there. Maybe--" + +"He was probably lyin'. You can't tell. Point is, we've got to get busy. +My notion is we'd better make a bee-line for Malapi right away," proposed +Bob. + +"We'll travel all night. No use wastin' any more time." + +Dug Doble received their decision sourly. "It don't tickle me a heap to +be left short-handed because you two boys have got an excuse to get to +town quicker." + +Hart looked him straight in the eye. "Call it an excuse if you want to. +We're after a pair of shorthorn crooks that stole our horses." + +The foreman flushed angrily. "Don't come bellyachin' to me about yore +broomtails. I ain't got 'em." + +"We know who's got 'em," said Dave evenly. "What we want is a wage check +so as we can cash it at Malapi." + +"You don't get it," returned the big foreman bluntly. "We pay off when we +reach the end of the drive." + +"I notice you paid yore brother and Miller when we gave an order for it," +Hart retorted with heat. + +"A different proposition. They hadn't signed up for this drive like you +boys did. You'll get what's comin' to you when I pay off the others. +You'll not get it before." + +The two riders retired sulkily. They felt it was not fair, but on the +trail the foreman is an autocrat. From the other riders they borrowed a +few dollars and gave in exchange orders on their pay checks. + +Within an hour they were on the road. Fresh horses had been roped from +the remuda and were carrying them at an even Spanish jog-trot through the +night. The stars came out, clear and steady above a ghostly world at +sleep. The desert was a place of mystery, of vast space peopled by +strange and misty shapes. + +The plain stretched vaguely before them. Far away was the thin outline of +the range which enclosed the valley. The riders held their course by +means of that trained sixth sense of direction their occupation had +developed. + +They spoke little. Once a coyote howled dismally from the edge of the +mesa. For the most part there was no sound except the chuffing of the +horses' movements and the occasional ring of a hoof on the baked ground. + +The gray dawn, sifting into the sky, found them still traveling. The +mountains came closer, grew more definite. The desert flamed again, dry, +lifeless, torrid beneath a sky of turquoise. Dust eddies whirled in +inverted cones, wind devils playing in spirals across the sand. +Tablelands, mesas, wide plains, desolate lava stretches. Each in turn was +traversed by these lean, grim, bronzed riders. + +They reached the foothills and left behind the desert shimmering in the +dancing heat. In a deep gorge, where the hill creases gave them shade, +the punchers threw off the trail, unsaddled, hobbled their horses, and +stole a few hours' sleep. + +In the late afternoon they rode back to the trail through a draw, the +ponies wading fetlock deep in yellow, red, blue, and purple flowers. The +mountains across the valley looked in the dry heat as though made of +_papier-mache_. Closer at hand the undulations of sand hills stretched +toward the pass for which they were making. + +A mule deer started out of a dry wash and fled into the sunset light. The +long, stratified faces of rock escarpments caught the glow of the sliding +sun and became battlemented towers of ancient story. + +The riders climbed steadily now, no longer engulfed in the ground swell +of land waves. They breathed an air like wine, strong, pure, bracing. +Presently their way led them into a hill pocket, which ran into a gorge +of pinons stretching toward Gunsight Pass. + +The stars were out again when they looked down from the other side of the +pass upon the lights of Malapi. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +SUPPER AT DELMONICO'S INTERRUPTED + + +The two D Bar Lazy R punchers ate supper at Delmonico's. The restaurant +was owned by Wong Chung. A Cantonese celestial did the cooking and +another waited on table. The price of a meal was twenty-five cents, +regardless of what one ordered. + +Hop Lee, the waiter, grinned at the frolicsome youths with the serenity +of a world-old wisdom. + +"Bleef steak, plork chop, lamb chop, hlam'neggs, clorn bleef hash, +Splanish stew," he chanted, reciting the bill of fare. + +"Yes," murmured Bob. + +The waiter said his piece again. + +"Listens good to me," agreed Dave. "Lead it to us." + +"You takee two--bleef steak and hlam'neggs, mebbe," suggested Hop +helpfully. + +"Tha's right. Two orders of everything on the me-an-you, Charlie." + +Hop did not argue with them. He never argued with a customer. If they +stormed at him he took refuge in a suddenly acquired lack of +understanding of English. If they called him Charlie or John or One Lung, +he accepted the name cheerfully and laid it to a racial mental deficiency +of the 'melicans. Now he decided to make a selection himself. + +"Vely well. Bleef steak and hlam'neggs." + +"Fried potatoes done brown, John." + +"Flied plotatoes. Tea or cloffee?" + +"Coffee," decided Dave for both of them. "Warm mine." + +"And custard pie," added Bob. "Made from this year's crop." + +"Aigs sunny side up," directed his friend. + +"Fry mine one on one side and one on the other," Hart continued +facetiously. + +"Vely well." Hop Lee's impassive face betrayed no perplexity as he +departed. In the course of a season he waited on hundreds of wild men +from the hills, drunk and sober. + +Dave helped himself to bread from a plate stacked high with thick slices. +He buttered it and began to eat. Hart did the same. At Delmonico's nobody +ever waited till the meal was served. Just about to attack a second +slice, Dave stopped to stare at his companion. Hart was looking past his +shoulder with alert intentness. Dave turned his head. Two men, leaving +the restaurant, were paying the cashier. + +"They just stepped outa that booth to the right," whispered Bob. + +The men were George Doble and a cowpuncher known as Shorty, a broad, +heavy-set little man who worked for Bradley Steelman, owner of the +Rocking Horse Ranch, what time he was not engaged on nefarious business +of his own. He was wearing a Chihuahua hat and leather chaps with silver +conchas. + +At this moment Hop Lee arrived with dinner. + +Dave sighed as he grinned at his friend. "I need that supper in my +system. I sure do, but I reckon I don't get it." + +"You do not, old lizard," agreed Hart. "I'll say Doble's the most +inconsiderate guy I ever did trail. Why couldn't he 'a' showed up a +half-hour later, dad gum his ornery hide?" + +They paid their bill and passed into the street. Immediately the sound of +a clear, high voice arrested their attention. It vibrated indignation and +dread. + +"What have you done with my father?" came sharply to them on the wings of +the soft night wind. + +A young woman was speaking. She was in a buggy and was talking to two men +on the sidewalk--the two men who had preceded the range-riders out of the +restaurant. + +"Why, Miss, we ain't done a thing to him--nothin' a-tall." The man Shorty +was speaking, and in a tone of honeyed conciliation. It was quite plain +he did not want a scene on the street. + +"That's a lie." The voice of the girl broke for an instant to a sob. "Do +you think I don't know you're Brad Steelman's handy man, that you do his +meanness for him when he snaps his fingers?" + +"You sure do click yore heels mighty loud, Miss." Dave caught in that +soft answer the purr of malice. He remembered now hearing from Buck +Byington that years ago Emerson Crawford had rounded up evidence to send +Shorty to the penitentiary for rebranding through a blanket. "I reckon +you come by it honest. Em always acted like he was God Almighty." + +"Where is he? What's become of him?" she cried. + +"Is yore paw missin'? I'm right sorry to hear that," the cowpuncher +countered with suave irony. He was eager to be gone. His glance followed +Doble, who was moving slowly down the street. + +The girl's face, white and shining in the moonlight, leaned out of the +buggy toward the retreating vaquero. "Don't you dare hurt my father! +Don't you dare!" she warned. The words choked in her tense throat. + +Shorty continued to back away. "You're excited, Miss. You go home an' +think it over reasonable. You'll be sorry you talked this away to me," he +said with unctuous virtue. Then, swiftly, he turned and went straddling +down the walk, his spurs jingling music as he moved. + +Quickly Dave gave directions to his friend. "Duck back into the +restaurant, Bob. Get a pocketful of dry rice from the Chink. Trail those +birds to their nest and find where they roost. Then stick around like a +burr. Scatter rice behind you, and I'll drift along later. First off, I +got to stay and talk with Miss Joyce. And, say, take along a rope. Might +need it." + +A moment later Hart was in the restaurant commandeering rice and Sanders +was lifting his dusty hat to the young woman in the buggy. + +"If I can he'p you any, Miss Joyce," he said. + +Beneath dark and delicate brows she frowned at him. "Who are you?" + +"Dave Sanders my name is. I reckon you never heard tell of me. I punch +cows for yore father." + +Her luminous, hazel-brown eyes steadied in his, read the honesty of his +simple, boyish heart. + +"You heard what I said to that man?" + +"Part of it." + +"Well, it's true. I know it is, but I can't prove it." + +Hart, moving swiftly down the street, waved a hand at his friend as he +passed. Without turning his attention from Joyce Crawford, Dave +acknowledged the signal. + +"How do you know it?" + +"Steelman's men have been watching our house. They were hanging around at +different times day before yesterday. This man Shorty was one." + +"Any special reason for the feud to break out right now?" + +"Father was going to prove up on a claim this week--the one that takes in +the Tularosa water-holes. You know the trouble they've had about it--how +they kept breaking our fences to water their sheep and cattle. Don't you +think maybe they're trying to keep him from proving up?" + +"Maybeso. When did you see him last?" + +Her lip trembled. "Night before last. After supper he started for the +Cattleman's Club, but he never got there." + +"Sure he wasn't called out to one of the ranches unexpected?" + +"I sent out to make sure. He hasn't been seen there." + +"Looks like some of Brad Steelman's smooth work," admitted Dave. "If he +could work yore father to sign a relinquishment--" + +Fire flickered in her eye. "He'd ought to know Dad better." + +"Tha's right too. But Brad needs them water-holes in his business bad. +Without 'em he loses the whole Round Top range. He might take a crack at +turning the screws on yore father." + +"You don't think--?" She stopped, to fight back a sob that filled her +soft throat. + +Dave was not sure what he thought, but he answered cheerfully and +instantly. "No, I don't reckon they've dry-gulched him or anything. +Emerson Crawford is one sure-enough husky citizen. He couldn't either be +shot or rough-housed in town without some one hearin' the noise. What's +more, it wouldn't be their play to injure him, but to force a +relinquishment." + +"That's true. You believe that, don't you?" Joyce cried eagerly. + +"Sure I do." And Dave discovered that his argument or his hopes had for +the moment convinced him. "Now the question is, what's to be done?" + +"Yes," she admitted, and the tremor of the lips told him that she +depended upon him to work out the problem. His heart swelled with glad +pride at the thought. + +"That man who jus' passed is my friend," he told her. "He's trailin' that +duck Shorty. Like as not we'll find out what's stirrin'." + +"I'll go with you," the girl said, vivid lips parted in anticipation. + +"No, you go home. This is a man's job. Soon as I find out anything I'll +let you know." + +"You'll come, no matter what time o' night it is," she pleaded. + +"Yes," he promised. + +Her firm little hand rested a moment in his brown palm. "I'm depending on +you," she murmured in a whisper lifted to a low wail by a stress of +emotion. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +BY WAY OF A WINDOW + + +The trail of rice led down Mission Street, turned at Junipero, crossed +into an alley, and trickled along a dusty road to the outskirts of the +frontier town. + +The responsibility Joyce had put upon him uplifted Dave. He had followed +the horse-race gamblers to town on a purely selfish undertaking. But he +had been caught in a cross-current of fate and was being swept into +dangerous waters for the sake of another. + +Doble and Miller were small fish in the swirl of this more desperate +venture. He knew Brad Steelman by sight and by reputation. The man's +coffee-brown, hatchet face, his restless, black eyes, the high, narrow +shoulders, the slope of nose and chin, combined somehow to give him the +look of a wily and predacious wolf. The boy had never met any one who so +impressed him with a sense of ruthless rapacity. He was audacious and +deadly in attack, but always he covered his tracks cunningly. Suspected +of many crimes, he had been proved guilty of none. It was a safe bet that +now he had a line of retreat worked out in case his plans went awry. + +A soft, low whistle stayed his feet. From behind a greasewood bush Bob +rose and beckoned him. Dave tiptoed to him. Both of them crouched behind +cover while they whispered. + +"The 'dobe house over to the right," said Bob. "I been up and tried to +look in, but they got curtains drawn. I would've like to 've seen how +many gents are present. Nothin' doin'. It's a strictly private party." + +Dave told him what he had learned from the daughter of Emerson Crawford. + +"Might make a gather of boys and raid the joint," suggested Hart. + +"Bad medicine, Bob. Our work's got to be smoother than that. How do we +know they got the old man a prisoner there? What excuse we got for +attacktin' a peaceable house? A friend of mine's brother onct got shot +up makin' a similar mistake. Maybe Crawford's there. Maybe he ain't. Say +he is. All right. There's some gun-play back and forth like as not. A +b'ilin' of men pour outa the place. We go in and find the old man with a +bullet right spang through his forehead. Well, ain't that too bad! In the +rookus his own punchers must 'a' gunned him accidental. How would that +story listen in court?" + +"It wouldn't listen good to me. Howcome Crawford to be a prisoner there, +I'd want to know." + +"Sure you would, and Steelman would have witnesses a-plenty to swear the +old man had just drapped in to see if they couldn't talk things over and +make a settlement of their troubles." + +"All right. What's yore programme, then?" asked Bob. + +"Darned if I know. Say we scout the ground over first." + +They made a wide circuit and approached the house from the rear, worming +their way through the Indian grass toward the back door. Dave crept +forward and tried the door. It was locked. The window was latched and the +blind lowered. He drew back and rejoined his companion. + +"No chance there," he whispered. + +"How about the roof?" asked Hart. + +It was an eight-roomed house. From the roof two dormers jutted. No light +issued from either of them. + +Dave's eyes lit. + +"What's the matter with takin' a whirl at it?" his partner continued. +"You're tophand with a rope." + +"Suits me fine." + +The young puncher arranged the coils carefully and whirled the loop +around his head to get the feel of the throw. It would not do to miss the +first cast and let the rope fall dragging down the roof. Some one might +hear and come out to investigate. + +The rope snaked forward and up, settled gracefully over the chimney, and +tightened round it close to the shingles. + +"Good enough. Now me for the climb," murmured Hart. + +"Don't pull yore picket-pin, Bob. Me first." + +"All right. We ain't no time to debate. Shag up, old scout." + +Dave slipped off his high-heeled boots and went up hand over hand, using +his feet against the rough adobe walls to help in the ascent. When he +came to the eaves he threw a leg up and clambered to the roof. In another +moment he was huddled against the chimney waiting for his companion. + +As soon as Hart had joined him he pulled up the rope and wound it round +the chimney. + +"You stay here while I see what's doin'," Dave proposed. + +"I never did see such a fellow for hoggin' all the fun," objected Bob. +"Ain't you goin' to leave me trail along?" + +"Got to play a lone hand till we find out where we're at, Bob. Doubles +the chances of being bumped into if we both go." + +"Then you roost on the roof and lemme look the range over for the old +man." + +"Didn't Miss Joyce tell me to find her paw? What's eatin' you, pard?" + +"You pore plugged nickel!" derided Hart. "Think she picked you special +for this job, do you?" + +"Be reasonable, Bob," pleaded Dave. + +His friend gave way. "Cut yore stick, then. Holler for me when I'm +wanted." + +Dave moved down the roof to the nearest dormer. The house, he judged, had +originally belonged to a well-to-do Mexican family and had later been +rebuilt upon American ideas. The thick adobe walls had come down from the +earlier owners, but the roof had been put on as a substitute for the flat +one of its first incarnation. + +The range-rider was wearing plain shiny leather chaps with a gun in an +open holster tied at the bottom to facilitate quick action. He drew out +the revolver, tested it noiselessly, and restored it carefully to its +place. If he needed the six-shooter at all, he would need it badly and +suddenly. + +Gingerly he tested the window of the dormer, working at it from the side +so that his body would not be visible to anybody who happened to be +watching from within. Apparently it was latched. He crept across the roof +to the other dormer. + +It was a casement window, and at the touch of the hand it gave way. +The heart of the cowpuncher beat fast with excitement. In the shadowy +darkness of that room death might be lurking, its hand already +outstretched toward him. He peered in, accustoming his eyes to the +blackness. A prickling of the skin ran over him. The tiny cold feet of +mice pattered up and down his spine. For he knew that, though he could +not yet make out the objects inside the room, his face must be like a +framed portrait to anybody there. + +He made out presently that it was a bedroom with sloping ceiling. A bunk +with blankets thrown back just as the sleeper had left them filled one +side of the chamber. There were two chairs, a washstand, a six-inch by +ten looking-glass, and a chromo or two on the wall. A sawed-off shotgun +was standing in a corner. Here and there were scattered soiled clothing +and stained boots. The door was ajar, but nobody was in the room. + +Dave eased himself over the sill and waited for a moment while he +listened, the revolver in his hand. It seemed to him that he could hear +a faint murmur of voices, but he was not sure. He moved across the bare +plank floor, slid through the door, and again stopped to take stock of +his surroundings. + +He was at the head of a stairway which ran down to the first floor and +lost itself in the darkness of the hall. Leaning over the banister, he +listened intently for any sign of life below. He was sure now that he +heard the sound of low voices behind a closed door. + +The cowpuncher hesitated. Should he stop to explore the upper story? Or +should he go down at once and try to find out what those voices might +tell him? It might be that time was of the essence of his contract to +discover what had become of Emerson Crawford. He decided to look for his +information on the first floor. + +Never before had Dave noticed that stairs creaked and groaned so loudly +beneath the pressure of a soft footstep. They seemed to shout his +approach, though he took every step with elaborate precautions. A door +slammed somewhere, and his heart jumped at the sound of it. He did not +hide the truth from himself. If Steelman or his men found him here +looking for Crawford he would never leave the house alive. His foot left +the last tread and found the uncarpeted floor. He crept, hand +outstretched, toward the door behind which he heard men talking. As he +moved forward his stomach muscles tightened. At any moment some one might +come out of the room and walk into him. + +He put his eye to the keyhole, and through it saw a narrow segment of the +room. Ad Miller was sitting a-straddle a chair, his elbows on the back. +Another man, one not visible to the cowpuncher, was announcing a decision +and giving an order. + +"Hook up the horses, Shorty. He's got his neck bowed and he won't sign. +All right. I'll get the durn fool up in the hills and show him whether he +will or won't." + +"I could 'a' told you he had sand in his craw." Shorty was speaking. He +too was beyond the range of Dave's vision. "Em Crawford won't sign unless +he's a mind to." + +"Take my advice, Brad. Collect the kid, an' you'll sure have Em hogtied. +He sets the world an' all by her. Y'betcha he'll talk turkey then," +predicted Miller. + +"Are we fightin' kids?" the squat puncher wanted to know. + +"Did I ask your advice, Shorty?" inquired Steelman acidly. + +The range-rider grumbled an indistinct answer. Dave did not make out the +words, and his interest in the conversation abruptly ceased. + +For from upstairs there came the sudden sounds of trampling feet, of +bodies thrashing to and fro in conflict. A revolver shot barked its +sinister menace. + +Dave rose to go. At the same time the door in front of him was jerked +open. He pushed his forty-five into Miller's fat ribs. + +"What's yore hurry? Stick up yore hands--stick 'em up!" + +The boy was backing along the passage as he spoke. He reached the newel +post in that second while Miller was being flung aside by an eruption of +men from the room. Like a frightened rabbit Dave leaped for the stairs, +taking them three at a time. Halfway up he collided with a man flying +down. They came together with the heavy impact of fast-moving bodies. The +two collapsed and rolled down, one over the other. + +Sanders rose like a rubber ball. The other man lay still. He had been put +out cold. Dave's head had struck him in the solar plexus and knocked the +breath out of him. The young cowpuncher found himself the active center +of a cyclone. His own revolver was gone. He grappled with a man, seizing +him by the wrist to prevent the use of a long-barreled Colt's. The +trigger fell, a bullet flying through the ceiling. + +Other men pressed about him, trying to reach him with their fists and to +strike him with their weapons. Their high heels crushed cruelly the flesh +of his stockinged feet. The darkness befriended Dave. In the massed melee +they dared not shoot for fear of hitting the wrong mark. Nor could they +always be sure which shifting figure was the enemy. + +Dave clung close to the man he had seized, using him as a shield against +the others. The pack swayed down the hall into the wedge of light thrown +by the lamp in the room. + +Across the head of the man next him Shorty reached and raised his arm. +Dave saw the blue barrel of the revolver sweeping down, but could not +free a hand to protect himself. A jagged pain shot through his head. +The power went out of his legs. He sagged at the hinges of his knees. +He stumbled and went down. Heavy boots kicked at him where he lay. It +seemed to him that bolts of lightning were zigzagging through him. + +The pain ceased and he floated away into a sea of space. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BOB HART TAKES A HAND + + +Bob Hart waited till his friend had disappeared into the house before he +moved. + +"Thought he'd run it over me, so I'd roost here on the roof, did he? +Well, I'm after the ol' horn-toad full jump," the puncher murmured, +a gay grin on his good-looking face. + +He, too, examined his gun before he followed Dave through the dormer +window and passed into the frowsy bedchamber. None of the details of it +escaped his cool, keen gaze, least of all the sawed-off shotgun in the +corner. + +"That scatter gun might come handy. Reckon I'll move it so's I'll know +just where it's at when I need it," he said to himself, and carried the +gun to the bed, where he covered it with a quilt. + +At the top of the stairs Bob also hesitated before passing down. Why not +be sure of his line of communications with the roof before going too far? +He did not want to be in such a hurry that his retreat would be cut off. + +With as little noise as possible Bob explored the upper story. The first +room in which he found himself was empty of all furniture except a pair +of broken-backed chairs. One casual glance was enough here. + +He was about to try a second door when some one spoke. He recognized the +voice. It belonged to the man who wrote his pay checks, and it came from +an adjoining room. + +"Always knew you was crooked as a dog's hind laigs Doble. Never liked you +a lick in the road. I'll say this. Some day I'll certainly hang yore hide +up to dry for yore treachery." + +"No use to get on the peck, Em. It don't do you no good to make me sore. +Maybe you'll need a friend before you're shet of Brad." + +"It relieves my mind some to tell you what a yellow coyote you are," +explained the cattleman. "You got about as much sand as a brush rabbit +and I'd trust you as far as I would a rattler, you damned sidewinder." + +Bob tried the door. The knob turned in his hand and the door slowly +opened inward. + +The rattle of the latch brought George Doble's sly, shifty eye round. +He was expecting to see one of his friends from below. A stare of blank +astonishment gave way to a leaping flicker of fear. The crook jumped to +his feet, tugging at his gun. Before he could fire, the range-rider had +closed with him. + +The plunging attack drove Doble back against the table, a flimsy, +round-topped affair which gave way beneath this assault upon it. The two +men went down in the wreck. Doble squirmed away like a cat, but before he +could turn to use his revolver Bob was on him again. The puncher caught +his right arm, in time and in no more than time. The deflected bullet +pinged through a looking-glass on a dresser near the foot of the bed. + +"Go to it, son! Grab the gun and bust his haid wide open!" an excited +voice encouraged Hart. + +But Doble clung to his weapon as a lost cow does to a 'dobe water-hole in +the desert. Bob got a grip on his arm and twisted till he screamed with +pain. He did a head spin and escaped. One hundred and sixty pounds of +steel-muscled cowpuncher landed on his midriff and the six-shooter went +clattering away to a far corner of the room. + +Bob dived for the revolver, Doble for the door. A moment, and Hart had +the gun. But whereas there had been three in the room there were now but +two. + +A voice from the bed spoke in curt command. "Cut me loose." Bob had heard +that voice on more than one round-up. It was that of Emerson Crawford. + +The range-rider's sharp knife cut the ropes that tied the hands and feet +of his employer. He worked in the dark and it took time. + +"Who are you? Howcome you here?" demanded the cattleman. + +"I'm Bob Hart. It's quite a story. Miss Joyce sent me and Dave Sanders," +answered the young man, still busy with the ropes. + +From below came the sound of a shot, the shuffling of many feet. + +"Must be him downstairs." + +"I reckon. They's a muley gun in the hall." + +Crawford stretched his cramped muscles, flexing and reflexing his arms +and legs. "Get it, son. We'll drift down and sit in." + +When Bob returned he found the big cattleman examining Doble's revolver. +He broke the shotgun to make sure it was loaded. + +Then, "We'll travel," he said coolly. + +The battle sounds below had died away. From the landing they looked down +into the hall and saw a bar of light that came through a partly open +door. Voices were lifted in excitement. + +"One of Em Crawford's riders," some one was saying. "A whole passel of +'em must be round the place." + +Came the thud of a boot on something soft. "Put the damn spy outa +business, I say," broke in another angrily. + +Hart's gorge rose. "Tha's Miller," he whispered to his chief. "He's +kickin' Dave now he's down 'cause Dave whaled him good." + +Softly the two men padded down the stair treads and moved along the +passage. + +"Who's that?" demanded Shorty, thrusting his head into the hall. "Stay +right there or I'll shoot." + +"Oh, no, you won't," answered the cattleman evenly. "I'm comin' into that +room to have a settlement. There'll be no shootin'--unless I do it." + +His step did not falter. He moved forward, brushed Shorty aside, and +strode into the midst of his enemies. + +Dave lay on the floor. His hair was clotted with blood and a thin stream +of it dripped from his head. The men grouped round his body had their +eyes focused on the man who had just pushed his way in. All of them were +armed, but not one of them made a move to attack. + +For there is something about a strong man unafraid more potent than a +company of troopers. Such a man was Emerson Crawford now. His life might +be hanging in the balance of his enemies' fears, but he gave no sign +of uncertainty. His steady gray eyes swept the circle, rested on each +worried face, and fastened on Brad Steelman. + +The two had been enemies for years, rivals for control of the range and +for leadership in the community. Before that, as young men, they had been +candidates for the hand of the girl that the better one had won. The +sheepman was shrewd and cunning, but he had no such force of character as +Crawford. At the bottom of his heart, though he seethed with hatred, he +quailed before that level gaze. Did his foe have the house surrounded +with his range-riders? Did he mean to make him pay with his life for the +thing he had done? + +Steelman laughed uneasily. An option lay before him. He could fight or he +could throw up the hand he had dealt himself from a stacked deck. If he +let his enemy walk away scot free, some day he would probably have to pay +Crawford with interest. His choice was a characteristic one. + +"Well, I reckon you've kinda upset my plans, Em. 'Course I was a-coddin' +you. I didn't aim to hurt you none, though I'd 'a' liked to have talked +you outa the water-holes." + +The big cattleman ignored this absolutely. "Have a team hitched right +away. Shorty will 'tend to that. Bob, tie up yore friend's haid with a +handkerchief." + +Without an instant's hesitation Hart thrust his revolver back into its +holster. He was willing to trust Crawford to dominate this group of +lawless foes, every one of whom held some deep grudge against him. One +he had sent to the penitentiary. Another he had actually kicked out of +his employ. A third was in his debt for many injuries received. Almost +any of them would have shot him in the back on a dark night, but none +had the cold nerve to meet him in the open. For even in a land which +bred men there were few to match Emerson Crawford. + +Shorty looked at Steelman. "I'm waitin', Brad," he said. + +The sheepman nodded sullenly. "You done heard your orders, Shorty." + +The ex-convict reached for his steeple hat, thrust his revolver back into +its holster, and went jingling from the room. He looked insolently at +Crawford as he passed. + +"Different here. If it was my say-so I'd go through." + +Hart administered first aid to his friend. "I'm servin' notice, Miller, +that some day I'll bust you wide and handsome for this," he said, looking +straight at the fat gambler. "You have give Dave a raw deal, and you'll +not get away with it." + +"I pack a gun. Come a-shootin' when you're ready," retorted Miller. + +"Tha's liable to be right soon, you damn horsethief. We've rid 'most a +hundred miles to have a li'l' talk with you and yore pardner there." + +"Shoutin' about that race yet, are you? If I wasn't a better loser than +you--" + +"Don't bluff, Miller. You know why we trailed you." + +Doble edged into the talk. He was still short of wind, but to his thick +wits a denial seemed necessary. "We ain't got yore broncs." + +"Who mentioned our broncs?" Hart demanded, swiftly. + +"Called Ad a horsethief, didn't you?" + +"So he is. You, too. You've got our ponies. Not in yore vest pockets, but +hid out in the brush somewheres. I'm servin' notice right now that Dave +and me have come to collect." + +Dave opened his eyes upon a world which danced hazily before him. He had +a splitting headache. + +"Wha's the matter?" he asked. + +"You had a run-in with a bunch of sheep wranglers," Bob told him. +"They're going to be plumb sorry they got gay." + +Presently Shorty returned. "That team's hooked up," he told the world at +large. + +"You'll drive us, Steelman," announced Crawford. + +"Me!" screamed the leader of the other faction. "You got the most nerve +I ever did see." + +"Sure. Drive him home, Brad," advised Shorty with bitter sarcasm. "Black +his boots. Wait on him good. Step lively when yore new boss whistles." He +cackled with splenetic laughter. + +"I dunno as I need to drive you home," Steelman said slowly, feeling his +way to a decision. "You know the way better'n I do." + +The eyes of the two leaders met. + +"You'll drive," the cattleman repeated steadily. + +The weak spot in Steelman's leadership was that he was personally not +game. Crawford had a pungent personality. He was dynamic, strong, master +of himself in any emergency. The sheepman's will melted before his +insistence. He dared not face a showdown. + +"Oh, well, what's it matter? We can talk things over on the way. Me, I'm +not lookin' for trouble none," he said, his small black eyes moving +restlessly to watch the effect of this on his men. + +Bob helped his partner out of the house and into the surrey. The +cattleman took the seat beside Steelman, across his knees the sawed-off +shotgun. He had brought his enemy along for two reasons. One was to +weaken his prestige with his own men. The other was to prevent them +from shooting at the rig as they drove away. + +Steelman drove in silence. His heart was filled with surging hatred. +During that ride was born a determination to have nothing less than the +life of his enemy when the time should be ripe. + +At the door of his house Crawford dismissed him contemptuously. "Get +out." + +The man with the reins spoke softly, venomously, from a dry throat. "One +o' these days you'll crawl on your hands and knees to me for this." + +He whipped up the team and rattled away furiously into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE D BAR LAZY R BOYS MEET AN ANGEL + + +Joyce came flying to her father's arms. The white lace of a nightgown +showed beneath the dressing-robe she had hurriedly donned. A plait of +dark hair hung across her shoulder far below the waist. She threw herself +at Crawford with a moaning little sob. + +"Oh Dad ... Dad ... Dad!" she cried, and her slender arms went round his +neck. + +"'T's all right, sweetheart. Yore old dad's not even powder-burnt. You +been worryin' a heap, I reckon." His voice was full of rough tenderness. + +She began to cry. + +He patted her shoulder and caressed her dark head drawing it close to his +shoulder. "Now--now--now sweetheart, don't you cry. It's all right, li'l' +honey bug." + +"You're not ... hurt," she begged through her tears. + +"Not none. Never was huskier. But I got a boy out here that's beat up +some. Come in, Dave--and you, Bob. They're good boys, Joy. I want you to +meet 'em both." + +The girl had thought her father alone. She flung one startled glance into +the night, clutched the dressing-gown closer round her throat, and fled +her barefoot way into the darkness of the house. To the boys, hanging +back awkwardly at the gate, the slim child-woman was a vision wonderful. +Their starved eyes found in her white loveliness a glimpse of heaven. + +Her father laughed. "Joy ain't dressed for callers. Come in, boys." + +He lit a lamp and drew Dave to a lounge. "Lemme look at yore haid, son. +Bob, you hot-foot it for Doc Green." + +"It's nothin' a-tall to make a fuss about," Dave apologized. "Only a love +tap, compliments of Shorty, and some kicks in the slats, kindness of Mr. +Miller." + +In spite of his debonair manner Dave still had a bad headache and was so +sore around the body that he could scarcely move without groaning. He +kept his teeth clamped on the pain because he had been brought up in +the outdoor code of the West which demands of a man that he grin and +stand the gaff. + +While the doctor was attending to his injuries, Dave caught sight once +or twice of Joyce at the door, clad now in a summer frock of white with a +blue sash. She was busy supplying, in a brisk, competent way, the demands +of the doctor for hot and cold water and clean linen. + +Meanwhile Crawford told his story. "I was right close to the club when +Doble met me. He pulled a story of how his brother Dug had had trouble +with Steelman and got shot up. I swallowed it hook, bait, and sinker. +Soon as I got into the house they swarmed over me like bees. I didn't +even get my six-gun out. Brad wanted me to sign a relinquishment. I told +him where he could head in at." + +"What would have happened if the boys hadn't dropped along?" asked Dr. +Green as he repacked his medicine case. + +The cattleman looked at him, and his eyes were hard and bleak. "Why, Doc, +yore guess is as good as mine." he said. + +"Mine is, you'd have been among the missing, Em. Well, I'm leaving a +sleeping-powder for the patient in case he needs it in an hour or two. +In the morning I'll drop round again," the doctor said. + +He did, and found Dave much improved. The clean outdoors of the +rough-riding West builds blood that is red. A city man might have kept +his bed a week, but Dave was up and ready to say good-bye within +forty-eight hours. He was still a bit under par, a trifle washed-out, +but he wanted to take the road in pursuit of Miller and Doble, who had +again decamped in a hurry with the two horses they had stolen. + +"They had the broncs hid up Frio Canon way, I reckon," explained Hart. +"But they didn't take no chances. When they left that 'dobe house they +lit a-runnin' and clumb for the high hills on the jump. And they didn't +leave no address neither. We'll be followin' a cold trail. We're not +liable to find them after they hole up in some mountain pocket." + +"Might. Never can tell. Le's take a whirl at it anyhow," urged Dave. + +"Hate to give up yore paint hoss, don't you?" said Bob with his friendly +grin. "Ain't blamin' you none whatever, I'd sleep on those fellows' trail +if Chiquito was mine. What say we outfit in the mornin' and pull our +freights? Maybeso we'll meet up with the thieves at that. Yo no se (I +don't know)." + +When Joyce was in the room where Dave lay on the lounge, the young man +never looked at her, but he saw nobody else. Brought up in a saddle on +the range, he had never before met a girl like her. It was not only that +she was beautiful and fragrant as apple-blossoms, a mystery of maidenhood +whose presence awed his simple soul. It was not only that she seemed so +delicately precious, a princess of the blood royal set apart by reason of +her buoyant grace, the soft rustle of her skirts, the fine texture of the +satiny skin. What took him by the throat was her goodness. She was +enshrined in his heart as a young saint. He would have thought it +sacrilege to think of her as a wide-awake young woman subject to all the +vanities of her sex. And he could have cited evidence. The sweetness of +her affection for rough Em Crawford, the dear, maternal tenderness with +which she ruled her three-year-old brother Keith, motherless since the +week of his birth, the kindness of the luminous brown eyes to the uncouth +stranger thrown upon her hospitality: Dave treasured them all as signs of +angelic grace, and they played upon his heartstrings disturbingly. + +Joyce brought Keith in to say good-bye to Dave and his friend before +they left. The little fellow ran across the room to his new pal, who +had busied himself weaving horsehair playthings for the youngster. + +"You turn back and make me a bwidle, Dave," he cried. + +"I'll sure come or else send you one," the cowpuncher promised, rising to +meet Joyce. + +She carried her slender figure across the room with perfect ease and +rhythm, head beautifully poised, young seventeen as self-possessed as +thirty. As much could not be said for her guests. They were all legs and +gangling arms, red ears and dusty boots. + +"Yes, we all want you to come back," she said with a charming smile. "I +think you saved Father's life. We can't tell you how much we owe you. Can +we, Keith?" + +"Nope. When will you send the bwidle?" he demanded. + +"Soon," the restored patient said to the boy, and to her: "That wasn't +nothin' a-tall. From where I come from we always been use to standin' by +our boss." + +He shifted awkwardly to the other foot, flushing to the hair while he +buried her soft little hand in his big freckled one. The girl showed no +shyness. Seventeen is sometimes so much older than twenty. + +"Tha's what us D Bar Lazy R boys are ridin' with yore paw's outfit for, +Miss--to be handy when he needs us," Bob added in his turn. "We're sure +tickled we got a chanct to go to Brad Steelman's party. I'm ce'tainly +glad to 'a' met you, Miss Joyce." He ducked his head and scraped back a +foot in what was meant to be a bow. + +Emerson Crawford sauntered in, big and bluff and easy-going. "Hittin' the +trail, boys? Good enough. Hope you find the thieves. If you do, play yore +cards close. They're treacherous devils. Don't take no chances with 'em. +I left an order at the store for you to draw on me for another pair of +boots in place of those you lost in the brush, Dave. Get a good pair, +son. They're on me. Well, so long. Luck, boys. I'll look for you-all back +with the D Bar Lazy R when you've finished this job." + +The punchers rode away without looking back, but many times in the days +that followed their hearts turned to that roof which had given the word +home a new meaning to them both. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GUNSIGHT PASS + + +The pursuit took the riders across a wide, undulating plain above which +danced the dry heat of the desert. Lizards sunned themselves on flat +rocks. A rattlesnake slid toward the cover of a prickly pear. The +bleached bones of a cow shone white beside the trail. + +The throats of the cowpunchers filled with alkali dust and their eyes +grew red and sore from it. Magnificent mirages unfolded themselves: lakes +cool and limpid, stretching to the horizon, with inviting forests in the +distance; an oasis of lush green fields that covered miles; mesquite +distorted to the size of giant trees and cattle transformed into +dinosaurs. The great gray desert took on freakish shapes of erosion. +Always, hour after hour beneath a copper sky, they rode in palpitating +heat through sand drifts, among the salt bushes and the creosote, into +cowbacked hills beyond which the stark mountains rose. + +Out of the fiery furnace of the plain they came in late afternoon to +the uplands, plunging into a land of deep gorges and great chasms. Here +manzanita grew and liveoaks flourished. They sent a whitetail buck +crashing through the brush into a canon. + +When night fell they built a fire of niggerheads and after they had eaten +found its glow grateful. For they were well up in the hills now and the +night air was sharp. + +In the sandy desert they had followed easily the trail of the thieves, +but as they had got into the hills the tracks had become fainter and +fewer. The young men discussed this while they lay in their blankets in +a water-gutted gulch not too near the fire they had built. + +"Like huntin' for a needle in a haystack," said Bob. "Their trail's done +petered out. They might be in any one of a hundred pockets right close, +or they may have bore 'way off to the right. All they got to do is hole +up and not build any fires." + +"Fat chance we got," admitted Dave. "Unless they build a fire like we +done. Say, I'd a heap rather be sleepin' here than by that niggerhead +blaze to-night. They might creep up and try to gun us." + +Before they had been in the saddle an hour next day the trail of the +thieves was lost. The pursuers spent till sunset trying to pick it up +again. The third day was wasted in aimless drifting among the defiles +of the mountains. + +"No use, Bob," said his friend while they were cooking supper. "They've +made their getaway. Might as well drift back to Malapi, don't you +reckon?" + +"Looks like. We're only wastin' our time here." + +Long before day broke they started. + +The canons below were filled with mist as they rode down out of the +mountains toward the crystal dawn that already flooded the plain. The +court-house clock at Malapi said the time was midnight when the +dust-covered men and horses drew into the town. + +The tired men slept till noon. At the Delmonico Restaurant they found +Buck Byington and Steve Russell. The trail herd had been driven in an +hour before. + +"How's old Alkali?" asked Dave of his friend Buck, thumping him on the +back. + +"Jes' tolable," answered the old-timer equably, making great play with +knife and fork. "A man or a hawss don't either one amount to much after +they onct been stove up. Since that bronc piled me at Willow Creek I +been mighty stiff, you might say." + +"Dug's payin' off to-day, boys," Russell told them. "You'll find him +round to the Boston Emporium." + +The foreman settled first with Hart, after which he, turned to the page +in his pocket notebook that held the account of Sanders. + +"You've drew one month's pay. That leaves you three months, less the week +you've fooled away after the pinto." + +"C'rect," admitted Dave. + +"I'll dock you seven and a half for that. Three times thirty's ninety. +Take seven and a half from that leaves eighty-two fifty." + +"Hold on!" objected Dave. "My pay's thirty-five a month." + +"First I knew of it," said the foreman, eyes bleak and harsh. "Thirty's +what you're gettin'." + +"I came in as top hand at thirty-five." + +"You did not," denied Doble flatly. + +The young man flushed. "You can't run that on me, Dug. I'll not stand for +it." + +"Eighty-two fifty is what you get," answered the other dogmatically. "You +can take it or go to hell." + +He began to sort out a number of small checks with which to pay the +puncher. At that time the currency of the country consisted largely of +cattlemen's checks which passed from hand to hand till they were grimy +with dirt. Often these were not cashed for months later. + +"We'll see what the old man says about that," retorted Dave hotly. It was +in his mind to say that he did not intend to be robbed by both the Doble +brothers, but he wisely repressed the impulse. Dug would as soon fight as +eat, and the young rider knew he would not have a chance in the world +against him. + +"All right," sneered the foreman. "Run with yore tale of grief to +Crawford. Tell him I been pickin' on you. I hear you've got to be quite +a pet of his." + +This brought Dave up with a short turn. He could not take advantage of +the service he had done the owner of the D Bar Lazy R to ask him to +interfere in his behalf with the foreman. Doble might be cynically +defrauding him of part of what was due him in wages. Dave would have to +fight that out with him for himself. The worst of it was that he had no +redress. Unless he appealed to the cattleman he would have to accept +what the foreman offered. + +Moreover, his pride was touched. He was young enough to be sensitive on +the subject of his ability to look out for himself. + +"I'm no pet of anybody," he flung out. "Gimme that money. It ain't a +square deal, but I reckon I can stand it." + +"I reckon you'll have to. It's neck meat or nothin'," grunted the +foreman. + +Doble counted him out eighty dollars in cattlemen's checks and paid him +two-fifty in cash. While Dave signed a receipt the hook-nosed foreman, +broad shoulders thrown back and thumbs hitched in the arm-holes of his +vest, sat at ease in a tilted chair and grinned maliciously at his +victim. He was "puttin' somethin' over on him," and he wanted Dave to +know it. Dug had no affection for his half-brother, but he resented +the fact that Sanders publicly and openly despised him as a crook. He +took it as a personal reflection on himself. + +Still smouldering with anger at this high-handed proceeding, Dave went +down to the Longhorn Corral and saddled his horse. He had promised +Byington to help water the herd. + +This done, he rode back to town, hitched the horse back of a barber shop, +and went in for a shave. Presently he was stretched in a chair, his boots +thrown across the foot rest in front of him. + +The barber lathered his face and murmured gossip in his ear. "George +Doble and Miller claim they're goin' to Denver to run some skin game at +a street fair. They're sure slick guys." + +Dave offered no comment. + +"You notice they didn't steal any of Em Crawford's stock. No, sirree! +They knew better. Hopped away with broncs belongin' to you boys because +they knew it'd be safe." + +"Picked easy marks, did they?" asked the puncher sardonically. + +The man with the razor tilted the chin of his customer and began to +scrape. "Well, o'course you're only boys. They took advantage of that +and done you a meanness." + +Dug Doble came into the shop, very grim about the mouth. He stopped to +look down sarcastically at the new boots Sanders was wearing. + +"I see you've bought you a new pair of boots," he said in a heavy, +domineering voice. + +Dave waited without answering, his eyes meeting steadily those of the +foreman. + +The big fellow laid a paper on the breast of the cowpuncher. "Here's a +bill for a pair of boots you charged to the old man's account--eighteen +dollars. I got it just now at the store. You'll dig up." + +It was the custom for riders who came to town to have the supplies they +needed charged to their employers against wages due them. Doble took it +for granted that Sanders had done this, which was contrary to the orders +he had given his outfit. He did not know the young man had lost his boots +while rescuing Crawford and had been authorized by him to get another +pair in place of them. + +Nor did Dave intend to tell him. Here was a chance to even the score +against the foreman. Already he had a plan simmering in his mind that +would take him out of this part of the country for a time. He could no +longer work for Doble without friction, and he had business of his own to +attend to. The way to solve the immediate difficulty flashed through his +brain instantly, every detail clear. + +It was scarcely a moment before he drawled an answer. "I'll 'tend to it +soon as I'm out of the chair." + +"I gave orders for none of you fellows to charge goods to the old man," +said Doble harshly. + +"Did you?" Dave's voice was light and careless. + +"You can go hunt a job somewheres else. You're through with me." + +"I'll hate to part with you." + +"Don't get heavy, young fellow." + +"No," answered Dave with mock meekness. + +Doble sat down in a chair to wait. He had no intention of leaving until +Dave had settled. + +After the barber had finished with him the puncher stepped across to a +looking-glass and adjusted carefully the silk handkerchief worn knotted +loosely round the throat. + +"Get a move on you!" urged the foreman. His patience, of which he never +had a large supply to draw from, was nearly exhausted. "I'm not goin' to +spend all day on this." + +"I'm ready." + +Dave followed Doble out of the shop. Apparently he did not hear the +gentle reminder of the barber, who was forced to come to the door and +repeat his question. + +"Want that shave charged?" + +"Oh! Clean forgot." Sanders turned back, feeling in his pocket for +change. + +He pushed past the barber into the shop, slapped a quarter down on the +cigar-case, and ran out through the back door. A moment later he pulled +the slip-knot of his bridle from the hitching-bar, swung to the saddle +and spurred his horse to a gallop. In a cloud of dust he swept round the +building to the road and waved a hand derisively toward Doble. + +"See you later!" he shouted. + +The foreman wasted no breath in futile rage. He strode to the nearest +hitching-post and flung himself astride leather. The horse's hoofs +pounded down the road in pursuit. + +Sanders was riding the same bronco he had used to follow the +horsethieves. It had been under a saddle most of the time for a week and +was far from fresh. Before he had gone a mile he knew that the foreman +would catch up with him. + +He was riding for Gunsight Pass. It was necessary to get there before +Doble reached him. Otherwise he would have to surrender or fight, and +neither of these fitted in with his plans. + +Once he had heard Emerson Crawford give a piece of advice to a hotheaded +and unwise puncher. "Never call for a gun-play on a bluff, son. There's +no easier way to commit suicide than to pull a six-shooter you ain't +willin' to use." Dug Doble was what Byington called "bull-haided." He had +forced a situation which could not be met without a showdown. This meant +that the young range-rider would either have to take a thrashing or draw +his forty-five and use it. Neither of these alternatives seemed worth +while in view of the small stakes at issue. Because he was not ready to +kill or be killed, Dave was flying for the hills. + +The fugitive had to use his quirt to get there in time. The steepness of +the road made heavy going. As he neared the summit the grade grew worse. +The bronco labored heavily in its stride as its feet reached for the +road ahead. + +But here Dave had the advantage. Doble was a much heavier man than he, +and his mount took the shoulder of the ridge slower. By the time the +foreman showed in silhouette against the skyline at the entrance to the +pass the younger man had disappeared. + +The D Bar Lazy R foreman found out at once what had become of him. A +crisp voice gave clear directions. + +"That'll be far enough. Stop right where you're at or you'll notice +trouble pop. And don't reach for yore gun unless you want to hear the +band begin to play a funeral piece." + +The words came, it seemed to Doble, out of the air. He looked up. Two +great boulders lay edge to edge beside the path. Through a narrow rift +the blue nose of a forty-five protruded. Back of it glittered a pair +of steady, steely eyes. + +The foreman did not at all like the look of things. Sanders was a good +shot. From where he lay, almost entirely protected, all he had to do was +to pick his opponent off at his leisure. If his hand were forced he would +do it. And the law would let him go scot free, since Doble was a fighting +man and had been seen to start in pursuit of the boy. + +"Come outa there and shell out that eighteen dollars," demanded Doble. + +"Nothin' doin', Dug." + +"Don't run on the rope with me, young fellow. You'll sure be huntin' +trouble." + +"What's the use o' beefin'? I've got the deadwood on you. Better hit the +dust back to town and explain to the boys how yore bronc went lame," +advised Dave. + +"Come down and I'll wallop the tar outa you." + +"Much obliged. I'm right comfortable here." + +"I've a mind to come up and dig you out." + +"Please yoreself, Dug. We'll find out then which one of us goes to hell." + +The foreman cursed, fluently, expertly, passionately. Not in a long time +had he had the turn called on him so adroitly. He promised Dave sudden +death in various forms whenever he could lay hands upon him. + +"You're sure doin' yoreself proud, Dug," the young man told him evenly. +"I'll write the boys how you spilled language so thorough." + +"If I could only lay my hands on you!" the raw-boned cattleman stormed. + +"I'll bet you'd massacree me proper," admitted Dave quite cheerfully. + +Suddenly Doble gave up. He wheeled his horse and began to descend the +steep slope. Steadily he jogged on to town, not once turning to look +back. His soul was filled with chagrin and fury at the defeat this +stripling had given him. He was ready to pick a quarrel with the first +man who asked him a question about what had taken place at the pass. + +Nobody asked a question. Men looked at him, read the menace of his +sullen, angry face, and side-stepped his rage. They did not need to be +told that his ride had been a failure. His manner advertised it. Whatever +had taken place had not redounded to the glory of Dug Doble. + +Later in the day the foreman met the owner of the D Bar Lazy R brand +to make a detailed statement of the cost of the drive. He took peculiar +pleasure in mentioning one item. + +"That young scalawag Sanders beat you outa eighteen dollars," he said +with a sneer of triumph. + +Doble had heard the story of what Dave and Bob had done for Crawford and +of how the wounded boy had been taken to the cattleman's home and nursed +there. It pleased him now to score off what he chose to think was the +soft-headedness of his chief. + +The cattleman showed interest. "That so, Dug? Sorry. I took a fancy to +that boy. What did he do?" + +"You know how vaqueros are always comin' in and chargin' goods against +the boss. I give out the word they was to quit it. Sanders he gets a pair +of eighteen-dollar boots, then jumps the town before I find out about +it." + +Crawford started to speak, but Doble finished his story. + +"I took out after him, but my bronc went lame from a stone in its hoof. +You'll never see that eighteen plunks, Em. It don't do to pet cowhands." + +"Too bad you took all that trouble, Dug," the old cattleman began mildly. +"The fact is--" + +"Trouble. Say, I'd ride to Tombstone to get a crack at that young smart +Aleck. I told him what I'd do to him if I ever got my fists on him." + +"So you _did_ catch up with him." + +Dug drew back sulkily within himself. He did not intend to tell all he +knew about the Gunsight Pass episode. "I didn't say _when_ I told him." + +"Tha's so. You didn't. Well, I'm right sorry you took so blamed much +trouble to find him. Funny, though, he didn't tell you I gave him the +boots." + +"You--what?" The foreman snapped the question out with angry incredulity. + +The ranchman took the cigar from his mouth and leaned back easily. He was +smiling now frankly. + +"Why, yes. I told him to buy the boots and have 'em charged to my +account. And the blamed little rooster never told you, eh?" + +Doble choked for words with which to express himself. He glared at his +employer as though Crawford had actually insulted him. + +In an easy, conversational tone the cattleman continued, but now there +was a touch of frost in his eyes. + +"It was thisaway, Dug. When he and Bob knocked Steelman's plans hell west +and crooked after that yellow skunk George Doble betrayed me to Brad, the +boy lost his boots in the brush. 'Course I said to get another pair at +the store and charge 'em to me. I reckon he was havin' some fun joshin' +you." + +The foreman was furious. He sputtered with the rage that boiled inside +him. But some instinct warned him that unless he wanted to break with +Crawford completely he must restrain his impulse to rip loose. + +"All right," he mumbled. "If you told him to get 'em, 'nough said." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE CATTLE TRAIN + + +Dave stood on the fence of one of the shipping pens at the Albuquerque +stockyards and used a prod-pole to guide the bawling cattle below. The +Fifty-Four Quarter Circle was loading a train of beef steers and cows for +Denver. Just how he was going to manage it Dave did not know, but he +intended to be aboard that freight when it pulled out for the mile-high +town in Colorado. + +He had reached Albuquerque by a strange and devious route of zigzags and +back-trackings. His weary bronco he had long since sold for ten dollars +at a cow town where he had sacked his saddle to be held at a livery +stable until sent for. By blind baggage he had ridden a night and part of +a day. For a hundred miles he had actually paid his fare. The next leg of +the journey had been more exciting. He had elected to travel by freight. +For many hours he and a husky brakeman had held different opinions about +this. Dave had been chased from the rods into an empty and out of the box +car to the roof. He had been ditched half a dozen times during the night, +but each time he had managed to hook on before the train had gathered +headway. The brakeman enlisted the rest of the crew in the hunt, with the +result that the range-rider found himself stranded on the desert ten +miles from a station. He walked the ties in his high-heeled boots, and +before he reached the yards his feet were sending messages of pain at +every step. Reluctantly he bought a ticket to Albuquerque. Here he had +picked up a temporary job ten minutes after his arrival. + +A raw-boned inspector kept tally at the chute while the cattle passed up +into the car. + +"Fifteen, sixteen--prod 'em up, you Arizona--seventeen, eighteen--jab +that whiteface along--nineteen--hustle 'em in." + +The air was heavy with the dust raised by the milling cattle. Calves +stretched their necks and blatted for their mothers, which kept up in +turn a steady bawling for their strayed offspring. They were conscious +that something unusual was in progress, something that threatened their +security and comfort, and they resented it in the only way they knew. + +Car after car was jammed full of the frightened creatures as the men +moved from pen to pen, threw open and shut the big gates, and hustled the +stock up the chutes. Dave had begun work at six in the morning. A glance +at his watch showed him that it was now ten o'clock. + +A middle-aged man in wrinkled corduroys and a pinched-in white hat drove +up to the fence. "How're they coming, Sam?" he asked of the foreman in +charge. + +"We'd ought to be movin' by noon, Mr. West." + +"Fine. I've decided to send Garrison in charge. He can pick one of the +boys to take along. We can't right well spare any of 'em now. If I knew +where to find a good man--" + +The lean Arizona-born youth slid from the fence on his prod-pole and +stepped forward till he stood beside the buckboard of the cattleman. + +"I'm the man you're lookin' for, Mr. West." + +The owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter Circle brand looked him over with +keen eyes around which nets of little wrinkles spread. + +"What man?" he asked. + +"The one to help Mr. Garrison take the cattle to Denver." + +"Recommend yoreself, can you?" asked West with a hint of humor. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Who are you?" + +"Dave Sanders--from Arizona, first off." + +"Been punchin' long?" + +"Since I was a kid. Worked for the D Bar Lazy R last." + +"Ever go on a cattle train?" + +"Twice--to Kansas City." + +"Hmp!" That grunt told Dave just what the difficulty was. It said, "I +don't know you. Why should I trust you to help take a trainload of my +cattle through?" + +"You can wire to Mr. Crawford at Malapi and ask him about me," the young +fellow suggested. + +"How long you ride for him?" + +"Three years comin' grass." + +"How do I knew you you're the man you say you are?" + +"One of yore boys knows me--Bud Holway." + +West grunted again. He knew Emerson Crawford well. He was a level-headed +cowman and his word was as good as his bond. If Em said this young man +was trustworthy, the shipper was willing to take a chance on him. The +honest eye, the open face, the straightforward manner of the youth +recommended his ability and integrity. The shipper was badly in need of +a man. He made up his mind to wire. + +"Let you know later," he said, and for the moment dropped Dave out of the +conversation. + +But before noon he sent for him. + +"I've heard from Crawford," he said, and mentioned terms. + +"Whatever's fair," agreed Dave. + +An hour later he was in the caboose of a cattle train rolling eastward. +He was second in command of a shipment consigned to the Denver Terminal +Stockyards Company. Most of them were shipped by the West Cattle Company. +An odd car was a jackpot bunch of pickups composed of various brands. All +the cars were packed to the door, as was the custom of those days. + +After the train had settled down to the chant of the rails Garrison +sent Dave on a tour of the cars. The young man reported all well and +returned to the caboose. The train crew was playing poker for small +stakes. Garrison had joined them. For a time Dave watched, then read +a four-day-old newspaper through to the last advertisement. The hum of +the wheels made him drowsy. He stretched out comfortably on the seat +with his coat for a pillow. + +When he awoke it was beginning to get dark. Garrison had left the +caboose, evidently to have a look at the stock. Dave ate some crackers +and cheese, climbed to the roof, and with a lantern hanging on his arm +moved forward. + +Already a few of the calves, yielding to the pressure in the heavily +laden cars, had tried to escape it by lying down. With his prod Dave +drove back the nearest animal. Then he used the nail in the pole to twist +the tails of the calves and force them to their feet. In those days of +crowded cars almost the most important thing in transit was to keep the +cattle on their legs to prevent any from being trampled and smothered to +death. + +As the night grew older both men were busier. With their lanterns and +prod-poles they went from car to car relieving the pressure wherever it +was greatest. The weaker animals began to give way, worn out by the +heavy lurching and the jam of heavy bodies against them. They had to be +defended against their own weakness. + +Dave was crossing from the top of one car to another when he heard his +name called. He knew the voice belonged to Garrison and he listened to +make sure from which car it came. Presently he heard it a second time +and localized the sound as just below him. He entered the car by the +end door near the roof. + +"Hello! Call me?" he asked. + +"Yep. I done fell and bust my laig. Can you get me outa here?" + +"Bad, is it?" + +"Broken." + +"I'll get some of the train hands. Will you be all right till I get +back?" the young man asked. + +"I reckon. Hop along lively. I'm right in the jam here." + +The conductor stopped the train. With the help of the crew Dave got +Garrison back to the caboose. There was no doubt that the leg was broken. +It was decided to put the injured man off at the next station, send him +back by the up train, and wire West that Dave would see the cattle got +through all right. This was done. + +Dave got no more sleep that night. He had never been busier in his life. +Before morning broke half the calves were unable to keep their feet. The +only thing to do was to reload. + +He went to the conductor and asked for a siding. The man running the +train was annoyed, but he did not say so. He played for time. + +"All right. We'll come to one after a while and I'll put you on it," he +promised. + +Half an hour later the train rumbled merrily past a siding without +stopping. Dave walked back along the roof to the caboose. + +"We've just passed a siding," he told the trainman. + +"Couldn't stop there. A freight behind us has orders to take that to let +the Limited pass," he said glibly. + +Dave suspected he was lying, but he could not prove it. He asked where +the next siding was. + +"A little ways down," said a brakeman. + +The puncher saw his left eyelid droop in a wink to the conductor. He knew +now that they were "stalling" for time. The end of their run lay only +thirty miles away. They had no intention of losing two or three hours' +time while the cattle were reloaded. After the train reached the division +point another conductor and crew would have to wrestle with the problem. + +Young Sanders felt keenly his inexperience. They were taking advantage of +him because he was a boy. He did not know what to do. He had a right to +insist on a siding, but it was not his business to decide which one. + +The train rolled past another siding and into the yards of the division +town. At once Dave hurried to the station. The conductor about to take +charge of the train was talking with the one just leaving. The +range-rider saw them look at him and laugh as he approached. His blood +began to warm. + +"I want you to run this train onto a siding," he said at once. + +"You the train dispatcher?" asked the new man satirically. + +"You know who I am. I'll say right now that the cattle on this train are +suffering. Some won't last another hour. I'm goin' to reload." + +"Are you? I guess not. This train's going out soon as we've changed +engines, and that'll be in about seven minutes." + +"I'll not go with it." + +"Suit yourself," said the officer jauntily, and turned away to talk with +the other man. + +Dave walked to the dispatcher's office. The cowpuncher stated his case. + +"Fix that up with the train conductor," said the dispatcher. "He can have +a siding whenever he wants it." + +"But he won't gimme one." + +"Not my business." + +"Whose business is it?" + +The dispatcher got busy over his charts. Dave became aware that he was +going to get no satisfaction here. + +He tramped back to the platform. + +"All aboard," sang out the conductor. + +Dave, not knowing what else to do, swung on to the caboose as it passed. +He sat down on the steps and put his brains at work. There must be a way +out, if he could only find what it was. The next station was fifteen +miles down the line. Before the train stopped there Dave knew exactly +what he meant to do. He wrote out two messages. One was to the division +superintendent. The other was to Henry B. West. + +He had swung from the steps of the caboose and was in the station before +the conductor. + +"I want to send two telegrams," he told the agent. "Here they are all +ready. Rush 'em through. I want an answer here to the one to the +superintendent." + +The wire to the railroad official read: + +Conductor freight number 17 refuses me siding to reload stock in my +charge. Cattle down and dying. Serve notice herewith I put responsibility +for all loss on railroad. Will leave cars in charge of train crew. + +DAVID SANDERS + +_Representing West Cattle Company_ + +The other message was just as direct. + +Conductor refuses me siding to reload. Cattle suffering and dying. Have +wired division superintendent. Will refuse responsibility and leave train +unless siding given me. + +DAVE SANDERS + +The conductor caught the eye of the agent. + +"I'll send the wires when I get time," said the latter to the cowboy. + +"You'll send 'em now--right now," announced Dave. + +"Say, are you the president of the road?" bristled the agent. + +"You'll lose yore job within forty-eight hours if you don't send them +telegrams _now_. I'll see to that personal." Dave leaned forward and +looked at him steadily. + +The conductor spoke to the agent, nodding his head insolently toward +Dave. "Young-man-heap-swelled-head," he introduced him. + +But the agent had had a scare. It was his job at stake, not the +conductor's. He sat down sulkily and sent the messages. + +The conductor read his orders and walked to the door. "Number 17 leaving. +All aboard," he called back insolently. + +"I'm stayin' here till I hear from the superintendent," answered Dave +flatly. "You leave an' you've got them cattle to look out for. They'll be +in yore care." + +The conductor swaggered out and gave the signal to go. The train drew out +from the station and disappeared around a curve in the track. Five +minutes later it backed in again. The conductor was furious. + +"Get aboard here, you hayseed, if you're goin' to ride with me!" he +yelled. + +Dave was sitting on the platform whittling a stick. His back was +comfortably resting against a truck. Apparently he had not heard. + +The conductor strode up to him and looked down at the lank boy. "Say, are +you comin' or ain't you?" he shouted, as though he had been fifty yards +away instead of four feet. + +"Talkin' to me?" Dave looked up with amiable surprise. "Why, no, not if +you're in a hurry. I'm waitin' to hear from the superintendent." + +"If you think any boob can come along and hold my train up till I lose +my right of way you've got another guess comin'. I ain't goin' to be +sidetracked by every train on the division." + +"That's the company's business, not mine. I'm interested only in my +cattle." + +The conductor had a reputation as a bully. He had intended to override +this young fellow by weight of age, authority, and personality. That he +had failed filled him with rage. + +"Say, for half a cent I'd kick you into the middle of next week," he +said, between clamped teeth. + +The cowpuncher's steel-blue eyes met his steadily. "Do you reckon that +would be quite safe?" he asked mildly. + +That was a question the conductor had been asking himself. He did not +know. A good many cowboys carried six-shooters tucked away on their ample +persons. It was very likely this one had not set out on his long journey +without one. + +"You're more obstinate than a Missouri mule," the railroad man exploded. +"I don't have to put up with you, and I won't!" + +"No?" + +The agent came out from the station waving two slips of paper. "Heard +from the super," he called. + +One wire was addressed to Dave, the other to the conductor. Dave read: + +Am instructing conductor to put you on siding and place train crew under +your orders to reload. + +Beneath was the signature of the superintendent. + +The conductor flushed purple as he read the orders sent by his superior. + +"Well," he stormed at Dave. "What do you want? Spit it out!" + +"Run me on the siding. I'm gonna take the calves out of the cars and tie +'em on the feed-racks above." + +"How're you goin' to get 'em up?" + +"Elbow grease." + +"If you think I'll turn my crew into freight elevators because some fool +cattleman didn't know how to load right--" + +"Maybe you've got a kick comin'. I'll not say you haven't. But this is an +emergency. I'm willin' to pay good money for the time they help me." Dave +made no reference to the telegram in his hand. He was giving the +conductor a chance to save his face. + +"Oh, well, that's different. I'll put it up to the boys." + +Three hours later the wheels were once more moving eastward. Dave had had +the calves roped down to the feed-racks above the cars. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE NIGHT CLERK GETS BUSY PRONTO + + +The stars were out long before Dave's train drew into the suburbs of +Denver. It crawled interminably through squalid residence sections, +warehouses, and small manufactories, coming to a halt at last in a +wilderness of tracks on the border of a small, narrow stream flowing +sluggishly between wide banks cut in the clay. + +Dave swung down from the caboose and looked round in the dim light for +the stockyards engine that was to pick up his cars and run them to the +unloading pens. He moved forward through the mud, searching the +semi-darkness for the switch engine. It was nowhere to be seen. + +He returned to the caboose. The conductor and brakemen were just leaving. + +"My engine's not here. Some one must 'a' slipped up on his job, looks +like. Where are the stockyards?" Sanders asked. + +The conductor was a small, middle-aged man who made it his business to +get along with everybody he could. He had distinctly refused to pick up +his predecessor's quarrel with Dave. Now he stopped and scratched his +head. + +"Too bad. Can't you go uptown and 'phone out to the stockyards? Or if you +want to take a street-car out there you'll have time to hop one at Stout +Street. Last one goes about midnight." + +In those days the telephone was not a universal necessity. Dave had never +used one and did not know how to get his connection. He spent several +minutes ringing up, shouting at the operator, and trying to understand +what she told him. He did not shout at the girl because he was annoyed. +His idea was that he would have to speak loud to have his voice carry. +At last he gave up, hot and perspiring from the mental exertion. + +Outside the drug-store he just had time to catch the last stockyards car. +His watch told him that it was two minutes past twelve. + +He stepped forty-five minutes later into an office in which sat two men +with their feet on a desk. The one in his shirt-sleeves was a smug, +baldish young man with clothes cut in the latest mode. He was rather +heavy-set and looked flabby. The other man appeared to be a visitor. + +"This the office of the Denver Terminal Stockyards Company?" asked Dave. + +The clerk looked the raw Arizonan over from head to foot and back again. +The judgment that he passed was indicated by the tone of his voice. + +"Name's on the door, ain't it?" he asked superciliously. + +"You in charge here?" + +The clerk was amused, or at least took the trouble to seem so. "You might +think so, mightn't you?" + +"Are you in charge?" asked Dave evenly. + +"Maybeso. What you want?" + +"I asked you if you was runnin' this office." + +"Hell, yes! What're your eyes for?" + +The clerk's visitor sniggered. + +"I've got a train of cattle on the edge of town," explained Dave. "The +stockyards engine didn't show up." + +"Consigned to us?" + +"To the Denver Terminal Stockyards Company." + +"Name of shipper?" + +"West Cattle Company and Henry B. West." + +"All right. I'll take care of 'em." The clerk turned back to his friend. +His manner dismissed the cowpuncher. "And she says to me, 'I'd love to go +with you, Mr. Edmonds; you dance like an angel.' Then I says--" + +"When?" interrupted Dave calmly, but those who knew him might have +guessed his voice was a little too gentle. + +"I says, 'You're some little kidder,' and--" + +"When?" + +The man who danced like an angel turned halfway round, and looked at the +cowboy over his shoulder. He was irritated. + +"When what?" he snapped. + +"When you goin' to onload my stock?" + +"In the morning." + +"No, sir. You'll have it done right now. That stock has been more'n two +days without water." + +"I'm not responsible for that." + +"No, but you'll be responsible if the train ain't onloaded now," said +Dave. + +"It won't hurt 'em to wait till morning." + +"That's where you're wrong. They're sufferin'. All of 'em are alive now, +but they won't all be by mo'nin' if they ain't 'tended to." + +"Guess I'll take a chance on that, since you say it's my responsibility," +replied the clerk impudently. + +"Not none," announced the man from Arizona. "You'll get busy pronto." + +"Say, is this my business or yours?" + +"Mine and yours both." + +"I guess I can run it. If I need any help from you I'll ask for it. Watch +me worry about your old cows. I have guys coming in here every day with +hurry-up tales about how their cattle won't live unless I get a wiggle on +me. I notice they all are able to take a little nourishment next day all +right, all right." + +Dave caught at the gate of the railing which was between him and the +night clerk. He could not find the combination to open it and therefore +vaulted over. He caught the clerk back of the neck by the collar and +jounced him up and down hard in his chair. + +"You're asleep," he explained. "I got to waken you up before you can sabe +plain talk." + +The clerk looked up out of a white, frightened face. "Say, don't do that. +I got heart trouble," he said in a voice dry as a whisper. + +"What about that onloadin' proposition?" asked the Arizonan. + +"I'll see to it right away." + +Presently the clerk, with a lantern in his hand, was going across to the +railroad tracks in front of Dave. He had quite got over the idea that +this lank youth was a safe person to make sport of. + +They found the switch crew in the engine of the cab playing seven-up. + +"Got a job for you. Train of cattle out at the junction," the clerk said, +swinging up to the cab. + +The men finished the hand and settled up, but within a few minutes the +engine was running out to the freight train. + +Day was breaking before Dave tumbled into bed. He had left a call with +the clerk to be wakened at noon. When the bell rang, it seemed to him +that he had not been asleep five minutes. + +After he had eaten at the stockyards hotel he went out to have a look at +his stock. He found that on the whole the cattle had stood the trip well. +While he was still inspecting them a voice boomed at him a question. + +"Well, young fellow, are you satisfied with all the trouble you've made +me?" + +He turned, to see standing before him the owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter +Circle brand. The boy's surprise fairly leaped from his eyes. + +"Didn't expect to see me here, I reckon," the cattleman went on. "Well, +I hopped a train soon as I got yore first wire. Spill yore story, young +man." + +Dave told his tale, while the ranchman listened in grim silence. When +Sanders had finished, the owner of the stock brought a heavy hand down on +his shoulder approvingly. + +"You can ship cattle for me long as you've a mind to, boy. You fought for +that stock like as if it had been yore own. You'll do to take along." + +Dave flushed with boyish pleasure. He had not known whether the cattleman +would approve what he had done, and after the long strain of the trip +this endorsement of his actions was more to him than food or drink. + +"They say I'm kinda stubborn. I didn't aim to lie down and let those guys +run one over me," he said. + +"Yore stubbornness is money in my pocket. Do you want to go back and ride +for the Fifty-Four Quarter Circle?" + +"Maybe, after a while, Mr. West. I got business in Denver for a few +days." + +The cattleman smiled. "Most of my boys have when they hit town, I +notice." + +"Mine ain't that kind. I reckon it's some more stubbornness," explained +Dave. + +"All right. When you've finished that business I can use you." + +If Dave could have looked into the future he would have known that the +days would stretch into months and the months to years before his face +would turn toward ranch life again. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LAW PUZZLES DAVE + + +Dave knew he was stubborn. Not many men would have come on such a +wild-goose chase to Denver in the hope of getting back a favorite horse +worth so little in actual cash. But he meant to move to his end +intelligently. + +If Miller and Doble were in the city they would be hanging out at some +saloon or gambling-house. Once or twice Dave dropped in to Chuck Weaver's +place, where the sporting men from all over the continent inevitably +drifted when in Denver. But he had little expectation of finding the men +he wanted there. These two rats of the underworld would not attempt to +fleece keen-eyed professionals. They would prey on the unsophisticated. + +His knowledge of their habits took him to that part of town below +Lawrence Street. While he chatted with his foot on the rail, a glass of +beer in front of him, he made inconspicuous inquiries of bartenders. It +did not take him long to strike the trail. + +"Two fellows I knew in the cattle country said they were comin' to +Denver. Wonder if they did. One of 'em's a big fat guy name o' +Miller--kinda rolls when he walks. Other's small and has a glass eye. +Called himself George Doble when I knew him." + +"Come in here 'most every day--both of 'em. Waitin' for the Festival of +Mountain and Plain to open up. Got some kinda concession. They look to +yours truly like--" + +The bartender pulled himself up short and began polishing the top of the +bar vigorously. He was a gossipy soul, and more than once his tongue had +got him into trouble. + +"You was sayin'--" suggested the cowboy. + +"--that they're good spenders, as the fellow says," amended the +bartender, to be on the safe side. + +"When I usta know 'em they had a mighty cute little trick pony--name was +Chiquito, seems to me. Ever hear 'em mention it?" + +"They was fussin' about that horse to-day. Seems they got an offer for +him and Doble wants to sell. Miller he says no." + +"Yes?" + +"I'll tell 'em a friend asked for 'em. What name?" + +"Yes, do. Jim Smith." + +"The fat old gobbler's liable to drop in any time now." + +This seemed a good reason to Mr. Jim Smith, _alias_ David Sanders, for +dropping out. He did not care to have Miller know just yet who the kind +friend was that had inquired for him. + +But just as he was turning away a word held him for a moment. The +discretion of the man in the apron was not quite proof against his habit +of talk. + +"They been quarrelin' a good deal together. I expect the combination is +about ready to bust up," he whispered confidentially. + +"Quarrelin'? What about?" + +"Oh, I dunno. They act like they're sore as a boil at each other. Honest, +I thought they was goin' to mix it yesterday. I breezed up wit' a bottle +an' they kinda cooled off." + +"Doble drunk?" + +"Nope. Fact is, they'd trimmed a Greeley boob and was rowin' about the +split. Miller he claimed Doble held out on him. I'll bet he did too." + +Dave did not care how much they quarreled or how soon they parted after +he had got back his horse. Until that time he preferred that they would +give him only one trail to follow instead of two. + +The cowpuncher made it his business to loaf on Larimer Street for the +rest of the day. His beat was between Fifteenth and Sixteenth Streets, +usually on the other side of the road from the Klondike Saloon. + +About four o'clock his patience was rewarded. Miller came rolling along +in a sort of sailor fashion characteristic of him. Dave had just time to +dive into a pawnbroker's shop unnoticed. + +A black-haired, black-eyed salesman came forward to wait on him. The +puncher cast an eye helplessly about him. It fell on a suitcase. + +"How much?" he asked. + +"Seven dollars. Dirt sheap, my frient." + +"Got any telescope grips?" + +The salesman produced one. Dave bought it because he did not know how to +escape without. + +He carried it with him while he lounged up and down the sidewalk waiting +for Miller to come out of the Klondike. When the fat gambler reappeared, +the range-rider fell in behind him unobserved and followed uptown past +the Tabor Opera House as far as California Street. Here they swung to the +left to Fourteenth, where Miller disappeared into a rooming-house. + +The amateur detective turned back toward the business section. On the way +he dropped guiltily the telescope grip into a delivery wagon standing in +front of a grocery. He had no use for it, and he had already come to feel +it a white elephant on his hands. + +With the aid of a city directory Dave located the livery stables within +walking distance of the house where Miller was staying. Inspired perhaps +by the nickel detective stories he had read, the cowboy bought a pair of +blue goggles and a "store" collar. In this last, substituted for the +handkerchief he usually wore loosely round his throat, the sleuth nearly +strangled himself for lack of air. His inquiries at such stables as he +found brought no satisfaction. Neither Miller nor the pinto had been seen +at any of them. + +Later in the evening he met Henry B. West at the St. James Hotel. + +"How's that business of yore's gettin' along, boy?" asked the cattleman +with a smile. + +"Don' know yet. Say, Mr. West, if I find a hawss that's been stole from +me, how can I get it back?" + +"Some one steal a hawss from you?" + +Dave told his story. West listened to a finish. + +"I know a lawyer here. We'll ask him what to do," the ranchman said. + +They found the lawyer at the Athletic Club. West stated the case. + +"Your remedy is to replevin. If they fight, you'll have to bring +witnesses to prove ownership." + +"Bring witnesses from Malapi! Why, I can't do that," said Dave, +staggered. "I ain't got the money. Why can't I just take the hawss? +It's mine." + +"The law doesn't know it's yours." + +Dave left much depressed. Of course the thieves would go to a lawyer, and +of course he would tell them to fight. The law was a darned queer thing. +It made the recovery of his property so costly that the crooks who stole +it could laugh at him. + +"Looks like the law's made to protect scalawags instead of honest folks," +Dave told West. + +"I don't reckon it is, but it acts that way sometimes," admitted the +cattleman. "You can see yoreself it wouldn't do for the law to say a +fellow could get property from another man by just sayin' it was his. +Sorry, Sanders. After all, a bronc's only a bronc. I'll give you yore +pick of two hundred if you come back with me to the ranch." + +"Much obliged, seh. Maybe I will later." + +The cowpuncher walked the streets while he thought it over. He had no +intention whatever of giving up Chiquito if he could find the horse. So +far as the law went he was in a blind alley. He was tied hand and foot. +That possession was nine points before the courts he had heard before. + +The way to recover flashed to his brain like a wave of light. He must get +possession. All he had to do was to steal his own horse and make for the +hills. If the thieves found him later--and the chances were that they +would not even attempt pursuit if he let them know who he was--he would +force them to the expense of going to law for Chiquito. What was sauce +for the goose must be for the gander too. + +Dave's tramp had carried him across the Platte into North Denver. On his +way back he passed a corral close to the railroad tracks. He turned in to +look over the horses. + +The first one his eyes fell on was Chiquito. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +FOR MURDER + + +Dave whistled. The pony pricked up its ears, looked round, and came +straight to him. The young man laid his face against the soft, silky +nose, fondled it, whispered endearments to his pet. He put the bronco +through its tricks for the benefit of the corral attendant. + +"Well, I'll be doggoned," that youth commented. "The little pinto sure is +a wonder. Acts like he knows you mighty well." + +"Ought to. I trained him. Had him before Miller got him." + +"Bet you hated to sell him." + +"You _know_ it." Dave moved forward to his end, the intention to get +possession of the horse. He spoke in a voice easy and casual. "Saw Miller +a while ago. They're talkin' about sellin' the paint hawss, him and +his pardner Doble. I'm to saddle up and show what Chiquito can do." + +"Say, that's a good notion. If I was a buyer I'd pay ten bucks more after +you'd put him through that circus stuff." + +"Which is Miller's saddle?" When it was pointed out to him, Dave examined +it and pretended to disapprove. "Too heavy. Lend me a lighter one, can't +you?" + +"Sure. Here's three or four. Help yourself." + +The wrangler moved into the stable to attend to his work. + +Dave cinched, swung to the saddle, and rode to the gate of the corral. +Two men were coming in, and by the sound of their voices were quarreling. +They stepped aside to let him pass, one on each side of the gate, so +that it was necessary to ride between them. + +They recognized the pinto at the same moment Dave did them. On the heels +of that recognition came another. + +Doble ripped out an oath and a shout of warning. "It's Sanders!" + +A gun flashed as the pony jumped to a gallop. The silent night grew noisy +with shots, voices, the clatter of hoofs. Twice Dave fired answers to the +challenges which leaped out of the darkness at him. He raced across the +bridge spanning the Platte and for a moment drew up on the other side to +listen for sounds which might tell him whether he would be pursued. One +last solitary revolver shot disturbed the stillness. + +The rider grinned. "Think he'd know better than to shoot at me this far." + +He broke his revolver, extracted the empty shells, and dropped them to +the street. Then he rode up the long hill toward Highlands, passed +through that suburb of the city, and went along the dark and dusty road +to the shadows of the Rockies silhouetted in the night sky. + +His flight had no definite objective except to put as much distance +between himself and Denver as possible. He knew nothing about the +geography of Colorado, except that a large part of the Rocky Mountains +and a delectable city called Denver lived there. His train trip to it had +told him that one of its neighbors was New Mexico, which was in turn +adjacent to Arizona. Therefore he meant to get to New Mexico as quickly +as Chiquito could quite comfortably travel. + +Unfortunately Dave was going west instead of south. Every step of the +pony was carrying him nearer the roof of the continent, nearer the passes +of the front range which lead, by divers valleys and higher mountains +beyond, to the snowclad regions of eternal white. + +Up in this altitude it was too cold to camp out without a fire and +blankets. + +"I reckon we'll keep goin', old pal," the young man told his horse. "I've +noticed roads mostly lead somewheres." + +Day broke over valleys of swirling mist far below the rider. The sun rose +and dried the moisture. Dave looked down on a town scattered up and down +a gulch. + +He met an ore team and asked the driver what town it was. The man looked +curiously at him. + +"Why, it's Idaho Springs," he said. "Where you come from?" + +Dave eased himself in the saddle. "From the Southwest." + +"You're quite a ways from home. I reckon your hills ain't so uncurried +down there, are they?" + +The cowpuncher looked over the mountains. He was among the summits, aglow +in the amber light of day with the many blended colors of wild flowers. +"We got some down there, too, that don't fit a lady's boodwar. Say, if I +keep movin' where'll this road take me?" + +The man with the ore team gave information. It struck Dave that he had +run into a blind alley. + +"If you're after a job, I reckon you can find one at some of the mines. +They're needin' hands," the teamster added. + +Perhaps this was the best immediate solution of the problem. The puncher +nodded farewell and rode down into the town. + +He left Chiquito at a livery barn, after having personally fed and +watered the pinto, and went himself to a hotel. Here he registered, not +under his own name, ate breakfast, and lay down for a few hours' sleep. +When he awakened he wrote a note with the stub of a pencil to Bob Hart. +It read: + +Well, Bob, I done got Chiquito back though it sure looked like I wasn't +going to but you never can tell and as old Buck Byington says its a hell +of a long road without no bend in it and which you can bet your boots the +old alkali is right at that. Well I found the little pie-eater in Denver +O K but so gaunt he wont hardly throw a shadow and what can you expect +of scalawags like Miller and Doble who don't know how to treat a horse. +Well I run Chiquito off right under their noses and we had a little gun +play and made my getaway and I reckon I will stay a spell and work here. +Well good luck to all the boys till I see them again in the sweet by and +by. + +Dave + +P.S. Get this money order cashed old-timer and pay the boys what I +borrowed when we hit the trail after Miller and Doble. I lit out to +sudden to settle. Five to Steve and five to Buck. Well so long. + +Dave + +The puncher went to the post-office, got a money order, and mailed the +letter, after which he returned to the hotel. He intended to eat dinner +and then look for work. + +Three or four men were standing on the steps of the hotel talking with +the proprietor. Dave was quite close before the Boniface saw him. + +"That's him," the hotel-keeper said in an excited whisper. + +A brown-faced man without a coat turned quickly and looked at Sanders. He +wore a belt with cartridges and a revolver. + +"What's your name?" he demanded. + +Dave knew at once this man was an officer of the law. He knew, too, the +futility of trying to escape under the pseudonym he had written on the +register. + +"Sanders--Dave Sanders." + +"I want you." + +"So? Who are you?" + +"Sheriff of the county." + +"Whadjawant me for?" + +"Murder." + +Dave gasped. His heart beat fast with a prescience of impending disaster. +"Murder," he repeated dully. + +"You're charged with the murder of George Doble last night in Denver." + +The boy stared at him with horror-stricken eyes. "Doble? My God, did I +kill him?" He clutched at a porch post to steady himself. The hills were +sliding queerly up into the sky. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +TEN YEARS + + +All the way back to Denver, while the train ran down through the narrow, +crooked canon, Dave's mind dwelt in a penumbra of horror. It was +impossible he could have killed Doble, he kept telling himself. He had +fired back into the night without aim. He had not even tried to hit the +men who were shooting at him. It must be some ghastly joke. + +None the less he knew by the dull ache in his heart that this awful thing +had fastened on him and that he would have to pay the penalty. He had +killed a man, snuffed out his life wantonly as a result of taking the +law into his own hands. The knowledge of what he had done shook him to +the soul. + +It remained with him, in the background of his mind, up to and through +his trial. What shook his nerve was the fact that he had taken a life, +not the certainty of the punishment that must follow. + +West called to see him at the jail, and to the cattleman Dave told the +story exactly as it had happened. The owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter +Circle walked up and down the cell rumpling his hair. + +"Boy, why didn't you let on to me what you was figurin' on pullin' off? +I knew you was some bull-haided, but I thought you had a lick o' sense +left." + +"Wisht I had," said Dave miserably. + +"Well, what's done's done. No use cryin' over the bust-up. We'd better +fix up whatever's left from the smash. First off, we'll get a lawyer, I +reckon." + +"I gotta li'l' money left--twenty-six dollars," spoke up Dave timidly. +"Maybe that's all he'll want." + +West smiled at this babe in the woods. "It'll last as long as a snowball +in you-know-where if he's like some lawyers I've met up with." + +It did not take the lawyer whom West engaged long to decide on the line +the defense must take. "We'll show that Miller and Doble were crooks and +that they had wronged Sanders. That will count a lot with a jury," he +told West. "We'll admit the killing and claim self-defense." + +The day before the trial Dave was sitting in his cell cheerlessly reading +a newspaper when visitors were announced. At sight of Emerson Crawford +and Bob Hart he choked in his throat. Tears brimmed in his eyes. Nobody +could have been kinder to him than West had been, but these were home +folks. He had known them many years. Their kindness in coming melted his +heart. + +He gripped their hands, but found himself unable to say anything in +answer to their greetings. He was afraid to trust his voice, and he +was ashamed of his emotion. + +"The boys are for you strong, Dave. We all figure you done right. Steve +he says he wouldn't worry none if you'd got Miller too," Bob breezed on. + +"Tha's no way to talk, son," reproved Crawford. "It's bad enough right +as it is without you boys wantin' it any worse. But don't you get +downhearted, Dave. We're allowin' to stand by you to a finish. It ain't +as if you'd got a good man. Doble was a mean-hearted scoundrel if ever +I met up with one. He's no loss to society. We're goin' to show the jury +that too." + +They did. By the time Crawford, Hart, and a pair of victims who had been +trapped by the sharpers had testified about Miller and Doble, these +worthies had no shred of reputation left with the jury. It was shown +that they had robbed the defendant of the horse he had trained and that +he had gone to a lawyer and found no legal redress within his means. + +But Dave was unable to prove self-defense. Miller stuck doggedly to his +story. The cowpuncher had fired the first shot. He had continued to fire, +though he must have seen Doble sink to the ground immediately. Moreover, +the testimony of the doctor showed that the fatal shot had taken effect +at close range. + +Just prior to this time there had been an unusual number of killings in +Denver. The newspapers had stirred up a public sentiment for stricter +enforcement of law. They had claimed that both judges and juries were too +easy on the gunmen who committed these crimes. Now they asked if this +cowboy killer was going to be allowed to escape. Dave was tried when this +wave of feeling was at its height and he was a victim of it. + +The jury found him guilty of murder in the second degree. The judge +sentenced him to ten years in the penitentiary. + +When Bob Hart came to say good-bye before Dave was removed to Canon City, +the young range-rider almost broke down. He was greatly distressed at the +misfortune that had befallen his friend. + +"We're gonna stay with this, Dave. You know Crawford. He goes through +when he starts. Soon as there's a chance we'll hit the Governor for a +pardon. It's a damn shame, old pal. Tha's what it is." + +Dave nodded. A lump in his throat interfered with speech. + +"The ol' man lent me money to buy Chiquito, and I'm gonna keep the pinto +till you get out. That'll help pay yore lawyer," continued Bob. "One +thing more. You're not the only one that's liable to be sent up. +Miller's on the way back to Malapi. If he don't get a term for +hawss-stealin', I'm a liar. We got a dead open-and-shut case against +him." + +The guard who was to take Dave to the penitentiary bustled in cheerfully. +"All right, boys. If you're ready we'll be movin' down to the depot." + +The friends shook hands again. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +IN DENVER + + +The warden handed him a ticket back to Denver, and with it a stereotyped +little lecture of platitudes. + +"Your future lies before you to be made or marred by yourself, Sanders. +You owe it to the Governor who has granted this parole and to the good +friends who have worked so hard for it that you be honest and industrious +and temperate. If you do this the world will in time forget your past +mistakes and give you the right hand of fellowship, as I do now." + +The paroled man took the fat hand proffered him because he knew the +warden was a sincere humanitarian. He meant exactly what he said. Perhaps +he could not help the touch of condescension. But patronage, no matter +how kindly meant, was one thing this tall, straight convict would not +stand. He was quite civil, but the hard, cynical eyes made the warden +uncomfortable. Once or twice before he had known prisoners like this, +quiet, silent men who were never insolent, but whose eyes told him that +the iron had seared their souls. + +The voice of the warden dropped briskly to business. "Seen the +bookkeeper? Everything all right, I suppose." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Good. Well, wish you luck." + +"Thanks." + +The convict turned away, grave, unsmiling. + +The prison officer's eyes followed him a little wistfully. His function, +as he understood it, was to win these men back to fitness for service to +the society which had shut them up for their misdeeds. They were not +wild beasts. They were human beings who had made a misstep. Sometimes he +had been able to influence men strongly, but he felt that it had not been +true of this puncher from the cow country. + +Sanders walked slowly out of the office and through the door in the wall +that led back to life. He was free. To-morrow was his. All the to-morrows +of all the years of his life were waiting for him. But the fact stirred +in him no emotion. As he stood in the dry Colorado sunshine his heart was +quite dead. + +In the earlier days of his imprisonment it had not been so. He had +dreamed often of this hour. At night, in the darkness of his cell, +imagination had projected picture after picture of it, vivid, colorful, +set to music. But his parole had come too late. The years had taken +their toll of him. The shadow of the prison had left its chill, had done +something to him that had made him a different David Sanders from the boy +who had entered. He wondered if he would ever learn to laugh again, if he +would ever run to meet life eagerly as that other David Sanders had a +thousand years ago. + +He followed the road down to the little station and took a through train +that came puffing out of the Royal Gorge on its way to the plains. +Through the crowd at the Denver depot he passed into the city, moving +up Seventeenth Street without definite aim or purpose. His parole had +come unexpectedly, so that none of his friends could meet him even if +they had wanted to do so. He was glad of this. He preferred to be alone, +especially during these first days of freedom. It was his intention to go +back to Malapi, to the country he knew and loved, but he wished to pick +up a job in the city for a month or two until he had settled into a frame +of mind in which liberty had become a habit. + +Early next morning he began his search for work. It carried him to a +lumber yard adjoining the railroad yards. + +"We need a night watchman," the superintendent said. "Where'd you work +last?" + +"At Canon City." + +The lumberman looked at him quickly, a question in his glance. + +"Yes," Dave went on doggedly. "In the penitentiary." + +A moment's awkward embarrassment ensued. + +"What were you in for?" + +"Killing a man." + +"Too bad. I'm afraid--" + +"He had stolen my horse and I was trying to get it back. I had no +intention of hitting him when I fired." + +"I'd take you in a minute so far as I'm concerned personally, but our +board of directors--afraid they wouldn't like it. That's one trouble in +working for a corporation." + +Sanders turned away. The superintendent hesitated, then called after him. + +"If you're up against it and need a dollar--" + +"Thanks. I don't. I'm looking for work, not charity," the applicant said +stiffly. + +Wherever he went it was the same. As soon as he mentioned the prison, +doors of opportunity closed to him. Nobody wanted to employ a man +tarred with that pitch. It did not matter why he had gone, under what +provocation he had erred. The thing that damned him was that he had been +there. It was a taint, a corrosion. + +He could have picked up a job easily enough if he had been willing to lie +about his past. But he had made up his mind to tell the truth. In the +long run he could not conceal it. Better start with the slate clean. + +When he got a job it was to unload cars of fruit for a commission house. +A man was wanted in a hurry and the employer did not ask any questions. +At the end of an hour he was satisfied. + +"Fellow hustles peaches like he'd been at it all his life," the +commission man told his partner. + +A few days later came the question that Sanders had been expecting. +"Where'd you work before you came to us?" + +"At the penitentiary." + +"A guard?" asked the merchant, taken aback. + +"No. I was a convict." The big lithe man in overalls spoke quietly, his +eyes meeting those of the Market Street man with unwavering steadiness. + +"What was the trouble?" + +Dave explained. The merchant made no comment, but when he paid off the +men Saturday night he said with careful casualness, "Sorry, Sanders. The +work will be slack next week. I'll have to lay you off." + +The man from Canon City understood. He looked for another place, was +rebuffed a dozen times, and at last was given work by an employer who had +vision enough to know the truth that the bad men do not all go to prison +and that some who go may be better than those who do not. + +In this place Sanders lasted three weeks. He was doing concrete work on a +viaduct job for a contractor employed by the city. + +This time it was a fellow-workman who learned of the Arizonan's record. +A letter from Emerson Crawford, forwarded by the warden of the +penitentiary, dropped out of Dave's coat pocket where it hung across +a plank. + +The man who picked it up read the letter before returning it to the +pocket. He began at once to whisper the news. The subject was discussed +back and forth among the men on the quiet. Sanders guessed they had +discovered who he was, but he waited for them to move. His years in +prison had given him at least the strength of patience. He could bide +his time. + +They went to the contractor. He reasoned with them. + +"Does his work all right, doesn't he? Treats you all civilly. Doesn't +force himself on you. I don't see any harm in him." + +"We ain't workin' with no jail bird," announced the spokesman. + +"He told me the story and I've looked it up since. Talked with the lawyer +that defended him. He says the man Sanders killed was a bad lot and had +stolen his horse from him. Sanders was trying to get it back. He claimed +self-defense, but couldn't prove it." + +"Don't make no difference. The jury said he was guilty, didn't it?" + +"Suppose he was. We've got to give him a chance when he comes out, +haven't we?" + +Some of the men began to weaken. They were not cruel, but they were +children of impulse, easily led by those who had force enough to push +to the front. + +"I won't mix cement with no convict," the self-appointed leader announced +flatly. "That goes." + +The contractor met him eye to eye. "You don't have to, Reynolds. You can +get your time." + +"Meanin' that you keep him on the job and let me go?" + +"That's it exactly. Long as he does his work well I'll not ask him to +quit." + +A shadow darkened the doorway of the temporary office. The Arizonan +stepped in with his easy, swinging stride, a lithe, straight-backed +Hermes showing strength of character back of every movement. + +"I'm leaving to-day, Mr. Shields." His voice carried the quiet power of +reserve force. + +"Not because I want you to, Sanders." + +"Because I'm not going to stay and make you trouble." + +"I don't think it will come to that. I'm talking it over with the boys +now. Your work stands up. I've no criticism." + +"I'll not stay now, Mr. Shields. Since they've complained to you I'd +better go." + +The ex-convict looked around, the eyes in his sardonic face hard and +bitter. If he could have read the thoughts of the men it would have been +different. Most of them were ashamed of their protest. They would have +liked to have drawn back, but they did not know how to say so. Therefore +they stood awkwardly silent. Afterward, when it was too late, they talked +it over freely enough and blamed each other. + +From one job to another Dave drifted. His stubborn pride, due in part to +a native honesty that would not let him live under false pretenses, in +part to a bitterness that had become dogged defiance, kept him out of +good places and forced him to do heavy, unskilled labor that brought the +poorest pay. + +Yet he saved money, bought himself good, cheap clothes, and found energy +to attend night school where he studied stationary and mechanical +engineering. He lived wholly within himself, his mental reactions tinged +with morose scorn. He found little comfort either in himself or in the +external world, in spite of the fact that he had determined with all his +stubborn will to get ahead. + +The library he patronized a good deal, but he gave no time to general +literature. His reading was of a highly specialized nature. He studied +everything that he could find about the oil fields of America. + +The stigma of his disgrace continued to raise its head. One of the +concrete workers was married to the sister of the woman from whom he +rented his room. The quiet, upstanding man who never complained or asked +any privileges had been a favorite of hers, but she was a timid, +conventional soul. Visions of her roomers departing in a flock when they +found out about the man in the second floor back began to haunt her +dreams. Perhaps he might rob them all at night. In a moment of nerve +tension, summoning all her courage, she asked the killer from the cattle +country if he would mind leaving. + +He smiled grimly and began to pack. For several days he had seen it +coming. When he left, the expressman took his trunk to the station. The +ticket which Sanders bought showed Malapi as his destination. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +DAVE MEETS TWO FRIENDS AND A FOE + + +In the early morning Dave turned to rest his cramped limbs. He was in a +day coach, and his sleep through the night had been broken. The light +coming from the window woke him. He looked out on the opalescent dawn +of the desert, and his blood quickened at sight of the enchanted mesa. +To him came that joyous thrill of one who comes home to his own after +years of exile. + +Presently he saw the silvery sheen of the mesquite when the sun is +streaming westward. Dust eddies whirled across the barranca. The prickly +pear and the palo verde flashed past, green splashes against a background +of drab. The pudgy creosote, the buffalo grass, the undulation of sand +hills were an old story, but to-day his eyes devoured them hungrily. The +wonderful effect of space and light, the cloud skeins drawn out as by +some invisible hand, the brown ribbon of road that wandered over the +hill: they brought to him an emotion poignant and surprising. + +The train slid into a narrow valley bounded by hills freakishly eroded to +fantastic shapes. Pinon trees fled to the rear. A sheep corral fenced +with brush and twisted roots, in which were long, shallow feed troughs +and flat-roofed sheds, leaped out of nowhere, was for a few moments, and +vanished like a scene in a moving picture. A dim, gray mass of color on a +hillside was agitated like a sea wave. It was a flock of sheep moving +toward the corral. For an instant Dave caught a glimpse of a dog circling +the huddled pack; then dog and sheep were out of sight together. + +The pictures stirred memories of the acrid smoke of hill camp-fires, of +nights under a tarp with the rain beating down on him, and still others +of a road herd bawling for water, of winter camps when the ropes were +frozen stiff and the snow slid from trees in small avalanches. + +At the junction he took the stage for Malapi. Already he could see that +he was going into a new world, one altogether different from that he had +last seen here. These men were not cattlemen. They talked the vocabulary +of oil. They had the shrewd, keen look of the driller and the wildcatter. +They were full of nervous energy that oozed out in constant conversation. + +"Jackpot Number Three lost a string o' tools yesterday. While they're +fishin', Steelman'll be drillin' hell-a-mile. You got to sit up all night +to beat that Coal Oil Johnny," one wrinkled little man said. + +A big man in boots laced over corduroy trousers nodded. "He's smooth as a +pump plunger, and he sure has luck. He can buy up a dry hole any old time +and it'll be a gusher in a week. He'll bust Em Crawford high and dry +before he finishes with him. Em had ought to 'a' stuck to cattle. That's +one game he knows from hoof to hide." + +"Sure. Em's got no business in oil. Say, do you know when they're +expectin' Shiloh Number Two in?" + +"She's into the sand now, but still dry as a cork leg. That's liable to +put a crimp in Em's bank roll, don't you reckon?" + +"Yep. Old Man Hard Luck's campin' on his trail sure enough. The banks'll +be shakin' their heads at his paper soon." + +The stage had stopped to take on a mailsack. Now it started again, and +the rest of the talk was lost to Dave. But he had heard enough to guess +that the old feud between Crawford and Steelman had taken on a new phase, +one in which his friend was likely to get the worst of it. + +At Malapi Dave descended from the stage into a town he hardly knew. It +had the same wide main street, but the business section extended five +blocks instead of one. Everywhere oil dominated the place. Hotels, +restaurants, and hardware stores jostled saloons and gambling-houses. +Tents had been set up in vacant lots beside frame buildings, and in them +stores, rooming-houses, and lunch-counters were doing business. Everybody +was in a hurry. The street was filled with men who had to sleep with one +eye open lest they miss the news of some new discovery. + +The town was having growing-pains. One contractor was putting down +sidewalks in the same street where another laid sewer pipe and a third +put in telephone poles. A branch line of a trans-continental railroad was +moving across the desert to tap the new oil field. Houses rose overnight. +Mule teams jingled in and out freighting supplies to Malapi and from +there to the fields. On all sides were rustle, energy, and optimism, +signs of the new West in the making. + +Up the street a team of half-broken broncos came on the gallop, weaving +among the traffic with a certainty that showed a skilled pair of hands +at the reins. From the buckboard stepped lightly a straight-backed, +well-muscled young fellow. He let out a moment later a surprised shout +of welcome and fell upon Sanders with two brown fists. + +"Dave! Where in Mexico you been, old alkali? We been lookin' for you +everywhere." + +"In Denver, Bob." + +Sanders spoke quietly. His eyes went straight into those of Bob Hart to +see what was written there. He found only a glad and joyous welcome, +neither embarrassment nor any sign of shame. + +"But why didn't you write and let us know?" Bob grew mildly profane in +his warmth. He was as easy as though his friend had come back from a week +in the hills on a deer hunt. "We didn't know when the Governor was goin' +to act. Or we'd 'a' been right at the gate, me or Em Crawford one. Whyn't +you answer our letters, you darned old scalawag? Dawggone, but I'm glad +to see you." + +Dave's heart warmed to this fine loyalty. He knew that both Hart and +Crawford had worked in season and out of season for a parole or a pardon. +But it's one thing to appear before a pardon board for a convict in whom +you are interested and quite another to welcome him to your heart when he +stands before you. Bob would do to tie to, Sanders told himself with a +rush of gratitude. None of this feeling showed in his dry voice. + +"Thanks, Bob." + +Hart knew already that Dave had come back a changed man. He had gone in a +boy, wild, turbulent, untamed. He had come out tempered by the fires of +experience and discipline. The steel-gray eyes were no longer frank and +gentle. They judged warily and inscrutably. He talked little and mostly +in monosyllables. It was a safe guess that he was master of his impulses. +In his manner was a cold reticence entirely foreign to the Dave Sanders +his friend had known and frolicked with. Bob felt in him a quality of +dangerous strength as hard and cold as hammered iron. + +"Where's yore trunk? I'll take it right up to my shack," Hart said. + +"I've rented a room." + +"Well, you can onrent it. You're stayin' with me." + +"No, Bob. I reckon I won't do that. I'll live alone awhile." + +"No, sir. What do you take me for? We'll load yore things up on the +buckboard." + +Dave shook his head. "I'm much obliged, but I'd rather not yet. Got to +feel out my way while I learn the range here." + +To this Bob did not consent without a stiff protest, but Sanders was +inflexible. + +"All right. Suit yoreself. You always was stubborn as a Missouri mule," +Hart said with a grin. "Anyhow, you'll eat supper with me. Le's go to the +Delmonico for ol' times' sake. We'll see if Hop Lee knows you. I'll bet +he does." + +Hart had come in to see a contractor about building a derrick for a well. +"I got to see him now, Dave. Go along with me," he urged. + +"No, see you later. Want to get my trunk from the depot." + +They arranged an hour of meeting at the restaurant. + +In front of the post-office Bob met Joyce Crawford. The young woman had +fulfilled the promise of her girlhood. As she moved down the street, tall +and slender, there was a light, joyous freedom in her step. So Ellen +Terry walked in her resilient prime. + +"Miss Joyce, he's here," Bob said. + +"Who--Dave?" + +She and her father and Bob had more than once met as a committee of three +to discuss the interests of Sanders both before and since his release. +The week after he left Canon City letters of thanks had reached both Hart +and Crawford, but these had given no address. Their letters to him had +remained unanswered nor had a detective agency been able to find him. + +"Yes, ma'am, Dave! He's right here in town. Met him half an hour ago." + +"I'm glad. How does he look?" + +"He's grown older, a heap older. And he's different. You know what an +easy-goin' kid he was, always friendly and happy as a half-grown pup. +Well, he ain't thataway now. Looks like he never would laugh again +real cheerful. I don't reckon he ever will. He's done got the prison +brand on him for good. I couldn't see my old Dave in him a-tall. He's +hard as nails--and bitter." + +The brown eyes softened. "He would be, of course. How could he help it?" + +"And he kinda holds you off. He's been hurt bad and ain't takin' no +chances whatever, don't you reckon?" + +"Do you mean he's broken?" + +"Not a bit. He's strong, and he looks at you straight and hard. But +they've crushed all the kid outa him. He was a mighty nice boy, Dave was. +I hate to lose him." + +"When can I see him?" she asked. + +Bob looked at his watch. "I got an appointment to meet him at Delmonico's +right now. Maybe I can get him to come up to the house afterward." + +Joyce was a young woman who made swift decisions. "I'll go with you now," +she said. + +Sanders was standing in front of the restaurant, but he was faced in the +other direction. His flat, muscular back was rigid. In his attitude was a +certain tenseness, as though his body was a bundle of steel springs ready +to be released. + +Bob's eye traveled swiftly past him to a fat man rolling up the street on +the opposite sidewalk. "It's Ad Miller, back from the pen. I heard he got +out this week," he told the girl in a low voice. + +Joyce Crawford felt the blood ebb from her face. It was as though her +heart had been drenched with ice water. What was going to take place +between these men? Were they armed? Would the gambler recognize his old +enemy? + +She knew that each was responsible for the other's prison sentence. +Sanders had followed the thieves to Denver and found them with his horse. +The fat crook had lied Dave into the penitentiary by swearing that the +boy had fired the first shots. Now they were meeting for the first time +since. + +Miller had been drinking. The stiff precision of his gait showed that. +For a moment it seemed that he would pass without noticing the man across +the road. Then, by some twist of chance, he decided to take the sidewalk +on the other side. The sign of the Delmonico had caught his eye and he +remembered that he was hungry. + +He took one step--and stopped. He had recognized Sanders. His eyes +narrowed. The head on his short, red neck was thrust forward. + +"Goddlemighty!" he screamed, and next moment was plucking a revolver from +under his left armpit. + +Bob caught Joyce and swept her behind him, covering her with his body as +best he could. At the same time Sanders plunged forward, arrow-straight +and swift. The revolver cracked. It spat fire a second time, a third. The +tiger-man, head low, his whole splendid body vibrant with energy, hurled +himself across the road as though he had been flung from a catapult. A +streak of fire ripped through his shoulder. Another shot boomed almost +simultaneously. He thudded hard into the fat paunch of the gunman. They +went down together. + +The fingers of Dave's left hand closed on the fat wrist of the gambler. +His other hand tore the revolver away from the slack grasp. The gun rose +and fell. Miller went into unconsciousness without even a groan. The +corrugated butt of the gun had crashed down on his forehead. + +Dizzily Sanders rose. He leaned against a telephone pole for support. The +haze cleared to show him the white, anxious face of a young woman. + +"Are you hurt?" she asked. + +Dave looked at Joyce, wondering at her presence here. "He's the one +that's hurt," he answered quietly. + +"I thought--I was afraid--" Her voice died away. She felt her knees grow +weak. To her this man had appeared to be plunging straight to death. + +No excitement in him reached the surface. His remarkably steady eyes +still held their grim, hard tenseness, but otherwise his self-control was +perfect. He was absolutely imperturbable. + +"He was shootin' wild. Sorry you were here, Miss Crawford." His eyes +swept the gathering crowd. "You'd better go, don't you reckon?" + +"Yes.... You come too, please." The girl's voice broke. + +"Don't worry. It's all over." He turned to the crowd. "He began shootin +'at me. I was unarmed. He shot four times before I got to him." + +"Tha's right. I saw it from up street," a stranger volunteered. "Where do +you take out yore insurance, friend? I'd like to get some of the same." + +"I'll be in town here if I'm wanted," Dave announced before he came back +to where Bob and Joyce were standing. "Now we'll move, Miss Crawford." + +At the second street corner he stopped, evidently intending to go no +farther. "I'll say good-bye, for this time. I'll want to see Mr. Crawford +right soon. How is little Keith comin' on?" + +She had mentioned that the boy frequently spoke of him. + +"Can you come up to see Father to-night? Or he'll go to your room if +you'd rather." + +"Maybe to-morrow--" + +"He'll be anxious to see you. I want you and Bob to come to dinner +Sunday." + +"Don't hardly think I'll be here Sunday. My plans aren't settled. Thank +you just the same, Miss Crawford." + +She took his words as a direct rebuff. There was a little lump in her +throat that she had to get rid of before she spoke again. + +"Sorry. Perhaps some other time." Joyce gave him her hand. "I'm mighty +glad to have seen you again, Mr. Sanders." + +He bowed. "Thank you." + +After she had gone, Dave turned swiftly to his friend. "Where's the +nearest doctor's office? Miller got me in the shoulder." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +OIL + + +"I'll take off my hat to Dave," said Hart warmly. "He's chain lightnin'. +I never did see anything like the way he took that street in two jumps. +And game? Did you ever hear tell of an unarmed man chargin' a guy with a +gun spittin' at him?" + +"I always knew he had sand in his craw. What does Doc Green say?" asked +Crawford, lighting a corncob pipe. + +"Says nothin' to worry about. A flesh wound in the shoulder. Ought to +heal up in a few days." + +Miss Joyce speaking, with an indignant tremor of the voice: "It was +the most cowardly thing I ever saw. He was unarmed, and he hadn't +lifted a finger when that ruffian began to shoot. I was sure he would +be ... killed." + +"He'll take a heap o' killin', that boy," her father reassured. "In a way +it's a good thing this happened now. His enemies have showed their hand. +They tried to gun him, before witnesses, while he was unarmed. Whatever +happens now, Dave's got public sentiment on his side. I'm always glad to +have my enemy declare himself. Then I can take measures." + +"What measures can Dave take?" asked Joyce. + +A faint, grim smile flitted across the old cattleman's face. "Well, one +measure he'll take pronto will be a good six-shooter on his hip. One I'll +take will be to send Miller back to the pen, where he belongs, soon as I +can get court action. He's out on parole, like Dave is. All the State has +got to do is to reach out and haul him back again." + +"If it can find him," added Bob dryly. "I'll bet it can't. He's headed +for the hills or the border right now." + +Crawford rose. "Well, I'll run down with you to his room and see the boy, +Bob. Wisht he would come up and stay with us. Maybe he will." + +To the cattleman Dave made light of his wound. He would be all right in a +few days, he said. It was only a scratch. + +"Tha's good, son," Crawford answered. "Well, now, what are you aimin' to +do? I got a job for you on the ranch if tha's what you want. Or I can use +you in the oil business. It's for you to say which." + +"Oil," said Dave without a moment of hesitation. "I want to learn that +business from the ground up. I've been reading all I could get on the +subject." + +"Good enough, but don't you go to playin' geology too strong, Dave. Oil +is where it's at. The formation don't amount to a damn. You'll find it +where you find it." + +"Mr. Crawford ain't strong for the scientific sharps since a college +professor got him to drill a nice straight hole on Round Top plumb +halfway to China," drawled Bob with a grin. + +"I suppose it's a gamble," agreed Sanders. + +"Worse'n the cattle market, and no livin' man can guess that," said the +owner of the D Bar Lazy R dogmatically. "Bob, you better put Dave with +the crew of that wildcat you're spuddin' in, don't you reckon?" + +"I'll put him on afternoon tower in place of that fellow Scott. I've been +intendin' to fire him soon as I could get a good man." + +"Much obliged to you both. Hope you've found that good man," said +Sanders. + +"We have. Ain't either of us worryin' about that." With a quizzical smile +Crawford raised a point that was in his mind. "Say, son, you talk a heap +more like a book than you used to. You didn't slip one over on us and go +to college, did you?" + +"I went to school in the penitentiary," Dave said. + +He had been immured in a place of furtive, obscene whisperings, but he +had found there not only vice. There was the chance of an education. He +had accepted it at first because he dared not let himself be idle in his +spare time. That way lay degeneration and the loss of his manhood. He had +studied under competent instructors English, mathematics, the Spanish +grammar, and mechanical drawing, as well as surveying and stationary +engineering. He had read some of the world's best literature. He had +waded through a good many histories. If his education in books was +lopsided, it was in some respects more thorough than that of many a +college boy. + +Dave did not explain all this. He let his simple statement of fact stand +without enlarging on it. His life of late years had tended to make him +reticent. + +"Heard from Burns yet about that fishin' job on Jackpot Number Three?" +Bob asked Crawford. + +"Only that he thinks he hooked the tools and lost 'em again. Wisht you'd +run out in the mo'nin', son, and see what's doin'. I got to go out to the +ranch." + +"I'll drive out to-night and take Dave with me if he feels up to it. Then +we'll know the foreman keeps humpin'." + +"Fine and dandy." The cattleman turned to Sanders. "But I reckon you +better stay right here and rest up. Time enough for you to go to work +when yore shoulder's all right." + +"Won't hurt me a bit to drive out with Bob. This thing's going to keep me +awake anyhow. I'd rather be outdoors." + +They drove out in the buckboard behind the half-broken colts. The young +broncos went out of town to a flying start. They raced across the plain +as hard as they could tear, the light rig swaying behind them as the +wheels hit the high spots. Not till they had worn out their first wild +energy was conversation possible. + +Bob told of his change of occupation. + +"Started dressin' tools on a wildcat test for Crawford two years ago when +he first begun to plunge in oil. Built derricks for a while. Ran a drill. +Dug sump holes. Shot a coupla wells. Went in with a fellow on a star rig +as pardner. Went busted and took Crawford's offer to be handy man for +him. Tha's about all, except that I own stock in two-three dead ones and +some that ain't come to life yet." + +The road was full of chuck holes and very dusty, both faults due to the +heavy travel that went over it day and night. They were in the oil field +now and gaunt derricks tapered to the sky to right and left of them. +Occasionally Dave could hear the kick of an engine or could see a big +beam pumping. + +"I suppose most of the D Bar Lazy R boys have got into oil some," +suggested Sanders. + +"Every man, woman, and kid around is in oil neck deep," Bob answered. +"Malapi's gone oil crazy. Folks are tradin' and speculatin' in stock +and royalty rights that never could amount to a hill o' beans. Slick +promoters are gettin' rich. I've known photographers to fake gushers in +their dark-rooms. The country's full of abandoned wells of busted +companies. Oil is a big man's game. It takes capital to operate. I'll +bet it ain't onct in a dozen times an investor gets a square run for +his white alley, at that." + +"There are crooks in every game." + +"Sure, but oil's so darned temptin' to a crook. All the suckers are +shovin' money at a promoter. They don't ask his capitalization or +investigate his field. Lots o' promoters would hate like Sam Hill to +strike oil. If they did they'd have to take care of it. That's a lot +of trouble. They can make more organizin' a new company and rakin' in +money from new investors." + +Bob swung the team from the main road and put it at a long rise. + +"There ain't nothin' easier than to drop money into a hole in the +ground and call it an oil well," he went on. "Even if the proposition +is absolutely on the level, the chances are all against the investor. +It's a fifty-to-one shot. Tools are lost, the casin' collapses, the cable +breaks, money gives out, shootin' is badly done, water filters in, or oil +ain't there in payin' quantities. In a coupla years you can buy a deskful +of no-good stock for a dollar Mex." + +"Then why is everybody in it?" + +"We've all been bit by this get-rich-quick bug. If you hit it right in +oil you can wear all the diamonds you've a mind to. That's part of it, +but it ain't all. The West always did like to take a chance, I reckon. +Well, this is gamblin' on a big scale and it gets into a fellow's blood. +We're all crazy, but we'd hate to be cured." + +The driver stopped at the location of Jackpot Number Three and invited +his friend to get out. + +"Make yoreself to home, Dave. I reckon you ain't sorry that fool team has +quit joltin' yore shoulder." + +Sanders was not, but he did not say so. He could stand the pain of his +wound easily enough, but there was enough of it to remind him pretty +constantly that he had been in a fight. + +The fishing for the string of lost tools was going on by lamplight. With +a good deal of interest Dave examined the big hooks that had been sent +down in an unsuccessful attempt to draw out the drill. It was a slow +business and a not very interesting one. The tools seemed as hard to hook +as a wily old trout. Presently Sanders wandered to the bunkhouse and sat +down on the front step. He thought perhaps he had not been wise to come +out with Hart. His shoulder throbbed a good deal. + +After a time Bob joined him. Faintly there came to them the sound of an +engine thumping. + +"Steelman's outfit," said Hart gloomily. "His li'l' old engine goes right +on kickin' all the darned time. If he gets to oil first we lose. Man who +makes first discovery on a claim wins out in this country." + +"How's that? Didn't you locate properly?" + +"Had no time to do the assessment work after we located. Dug a sump hole, +maybe. Brad jumps in when the field here began to look up. Company that +shows oil first will sure win out." + +"How deep has he drilled?" + +"We're a li'l' deeper--not much. Both must be close to the sands. We were +showin' driller's smut when we lost our string." Bob reached into his hip +pocket and drew out "the makings." He rolled his cigarette and lit it. +"I reckon Steelman's a millionaire now--on paper, anyhow. He was about +busted when he got busy in oil. He was lucky right off, and he's crooked +as a dawg's hind laig--don't care how he gets his, so he gets it. He sure +trimmed the suckers a-plenty." + +"He and Crawford are still unfriendly," Dave suggested, the inflection of +his voice making the statement a question. + +"Onfriendly!" drawled Bob, leaning back against the step and letting a +smoke ring curl up. "Well, tha's a good, nice parlor word. Yes, I reckon +you could call them onfriendly." Presently he went on, in explanation: +"Brad's goin' to put Crawford down and out if it can be done by hook or +crook. He's a big man in the country now. We haven't been lucky, like he +has. Besides, the ol' man's company's on the square. This business ain't +like cows. It takes big money to swing. You make or break mighty sudden." + +"Yes." + +"And Steelman won't stick at a thing. Wouldn't trust him or any one of +his crowd any further than I could sling a bull by the tail. He'd blow +Crawford and me sky high if he thought he could get away with it." + +Sanders nodded agreement. He hadn't a doubt of it. + +With a thumb jerk toward the beating engine, Bob took up again his story. +"Got a bunch of thugs over there right now ready for business if +necessary. Imported plug-uglies and genuwine blown-in-the-bottle home +talent. Shorty's still one of the gang, and our old friend Dug Doble is +boss of the rodeo. I'm lookin' for trouble if we win out and get to oil +first." + +"You think they'll attack." + +A gay light of cool recklessness danced in the eyes of the young oilman. +"I've a kinda notion they'll drap over and pay us a visit one o' these +nights, say in the dark of the moon. If they do--well, we certainly aim +to welcome them proper." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +DOBLE PAYS A VISIT + + +"Hello, the Jackpot!" + +Out of the night the call came to the men at the bunkhouse. + +Bob looked at his companion and grinned. "Seems to me I recognize that +melojious voice." + +A man stepped from the gloom with masterful, arrogant strides. + +"'Lo, Hart," he said. "Can you lend me a reamer?" + +Bob knew he had come to spy out the land and not to borrow tools. + +"Don't seem to me we've hardly got any reamers to spare, Dug," drawled +the young man sitting on the porch floor. "What's the trouble? Got a kink +in yore casin'?" + +"Not so you could notice it, but you never can tell when you're goin' to +run into bad luck, can you?" He sat down on the porch and took a cigar +from his vest pocket. "What with losin' tools and one thing an' 'nother, +this oil game sure is hell. By the way, how's yore fishin' job comin' +on?" + +"Fine, Dug. We ain't hooked our big fish yet, but we're hopeful." + +Dave was sitting in the shadow. Doble nodded carelessly to him without +recognition. It was characteristic of his audacity that Dug had walked +over impudently to spy out the camp of the enemy. Bob knew why he had +come, and he knew that Bob knew. Yet both ignored the fact that he was +not welcome. + +"I've known fellows angle a right long time for a trout and not catch +him," said Doble, stretching his long legs comfortably. + +"Yes," agreed Bob. "Wish I could hire you to throw a monkey wrench in +that engine over there. Its chuggin' keeps me awake." + +"I'll bet it does. Well, young fellow, you can't hire me or anybody else +to stop it," retorted Doble, an edge to his voice. + +"Well, I just mentioned it," murmured Hart. "I don't aim to rile yore +feelin's. We'll talk of somethin' else.... Hope you enjoyed that reunion +this week with yore old friend, absent far, but dear to memory ever." + +"Referrin' to?" demanded Doble with sharp hostility. + +"Why, Ad Miller, Dug." + +"Is he a friend of mine?" + +"Ain't he?" + +"Not that I ever heard tell of." + +"Glad of that. You won't miss him now he's lit out." + +"Oh, he's lit out, has he?" + +"A li'l bird whispered to me he had." + +"When?" + +"This evenin', I understand." + +"Where'd he go?" + +"He didn't leave any address. Called away on sudden business." + +"Did he mention the business?" + +"Not to me." Bob turned to his friend. "Did he say anything to you about +that, Dave?" + +In the silence one might have heard a watch tick, Doble leaned forward, +his body rigid, danger written large in his burning eyes and clenched +fist. + +"So you're back," he said at last in a low, harsh voice. + +"I'm back." + +"It would 'a' pleased me if they had put a rope round yore neck, Mr. +Convict." + +Dave made no comment. Nobody could have guessed from his stillness how +fierce was the blood pressure at his temples. + +"It's a difference of opinion makes horse-races, Dug," said Bob lightly. + +The big ex-foreman rose snarling. "For half a cent I'd gun you here and +now like you did George." + +Sanders looked at him steadily, his hands hanging loosely by his sides. + +"I wouldn't try that, Dug," warned Hart. "Dave ain't armed, but I am. My +hand's on my six-shooter right this minute. Don't make a mistake." + +The ex-foreman glared at him. Doble was a strong, reckless devil of a +fellow who feared neither God nor man. A primeval savagery burned in +his blood, but like most "bad" men he had that vein of caution in his +make-up which seeks to find its victim at disadvantage. He knew Hart too +well to doubt his word. One cannot ride the range with a man year in, +year out, without knowing whether the iron is in his arteries. + +"Declarin' yoreself in on this, are you?" he demanded ominously, showing +his teeth. + +"I've always been in on it, Dug. Took a hand at the first deal, the day +of the race. If you're lookin' for trouble with Dave, you'll find it goes +double." + +"Not able to play his own hand, eh?" + +"Not when you've got a six-shooter and he hasn't. Not after he has just +been wounded by another gunman he cleaned up with his bare hands. You and +yore friends are lookin' for things too easy." + +"Easy, hell! I'll fight you and him both, with or without guns. Any time. +Any place." + +Doble backed away till his figure grew vague in the darkness. Came the +crack of a revolver. A bullet tore a splinter from the wall of the shack +in front of which Dave was standing. A jeering laugh floated to the two +men, carried on the light night breeze. + +Bob whipped out his revolver, but he did not fire. He and his friend +slipped quietly to the far end of the house and found shelter round the +corner. + +"Ain't that like Dug, the damned double-crosser?" whispered Bob. "I +reckon he didn't try awful hard to hit you. Just sent his compliments +kinda casual to show good-will." + +"I reckon he didn't try very hard to miss me either," said Dave dryly. +"The bullet came within a foot of my head." + +"He's one bad citizen, if you ask me," admitted Hart, without reluctance. +"Know how he came to break with the old man? He had the nerve to start +beauin' Miss Joyce. She wouldn't have it a minute. He stayed right with +it--tried to ride over her. Crawford took a hand and kicked him out. +Since then Dug has been one bitter enemy of the old man." + +"Then Crawford had better look out. If Doble isn't a killer, I've never +met one." + +"I've got a fool notion that he ain't aimin' to kill him; that maybe he +wants to help Steelman bust him so as he can turn the screws on him and +get Miss Joyce. Dug must 'a' been makin' money fast in Brad's company. +He's on the inside." + +Dave made no comment. + +"I expect you was some surprised when I told Dug who was roostin' on the +step so clost to him," Hart went on. "Well, I had a reason. He was due to +find it out anyhow in about a minute, so I thought I'd let him know we +wasn't tryin' to keep him from knowin' who his neighbor was; also that I +was good and ready for him if he got red-haided like Miller done." + +"I understood, Bob," said his friend quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +AN INVOLUNTARY BATH + + +Jackpot Number Three hooked its tools the second day after Sanders's +visit to that location. A few hours later its engine was thumping merrily +and the cable rising and falling monotonously in the casing. On the +afternoon of the third day Bob Hart rode up to the wildcat well where +Dave was building a sump hole with a gang of Mexicans. + +He drew Sanders to one side. "Trouble to-night, Dave, looks like. At +Jackpot Number Three. We're in a layer of soft shale just above the +oil-bearin' sand. Soon we'll know where we're at. Word has reached me +that Doble means to rush the night tower and wreck the engine." + +"You'll stand his crowd off?" + +"You're whistlin'." + +"Sure your information is right?" + +"It's c'rect." Bob added, after a momentary hesitation: "We got a spy in +his camp." + +Sanders did not ask whether the affair was to be a pitched battle. He +waited, sure that Bob would tell him when he was ready. That young man +came to the subject indirectly. + +"How's yore shoulder, Dave?" + +"Doesn't trouble me any unless something is slammed against it." + +"Interfere with you usin' a six-shooter?" + +"No." + +"Like to take a ride with me over to the Jackpot?" + +"Yes." + +"Good enough. I want you to look the ground over with me. Looks now as if +it would come to fireworks. But we don't want any Fourth-of-July stuff if +we can help it. Can we? That's the point." + +At the Jackpot the friends walked over the ground together. Back of the +location and to the west of it an arroyo ran from a canon above. + +"Follow it down and it'll take you right into the location where Steelman +is drillin'," explained Bob. "Dug's gonna lead his gang up the arroyo to +the mesquite here, sneak down on us, and take our camp with a rush. At +least, that's what he aims to do. You can't always tell, as the fellow +says." + +"What's up above?" + +"A dam. Steelman owns the ground up there. He's got several acres of +water backed up there for irrigation purposes." + +"Let's go up and look it over." + +Bob showed a mild surprise. "Why, yes, if you want to take some exercise. +This is my busy day, but--" + +Sanders ignored the hint. He led the way up a stiff trail that took them +to the mouth of the canon. Across the face of this a dam stretched. They +climbed to the top of it. The water rose to within about six feet from +the rim of the curved wall. + +"Some view," commented Bob with a grin, looking across the plains that +spread fanlike from the mouth of the gorge. "But I ain't much interested +in scenery to-day somehow." + +"When were you expectin' to shoot the well, Bob?" + +"Some time to-morrow. Don't know just when. Why?" + +"Got the nitro here yet?" + +"Brought it up this mo'nin' myself." + +"How much?" + +"Twelve quarts." + +"Any dynamite in camp?" + +"Yes. A dozen sticks, maybe." + +"And three gallons of nitro, you say." + +"Yep." + +"That's enough to do the job," Sanders said, as though talking aloud to +himself. + +"Yep. Tha's what we usually use." + +"I'm speaking of another job. Let's get down from here. We might be +seen." + +"They couldn't hit us from the Steelman location. Too far," said Bob. +"And I don't reckon any one would try to do that." + +"No, but they might get to wondering what we're doing up here." + +"I'm wonderin' that myself," drawled Hart. "Most generally when I take a +pasear it's on the back of a bronc. I ain't one of them that believes the +good Lord made human laigs to be walked on, not so long as any broomtails +are left to straddle." + +Screened by the heavy mesquite below, Sanders unfolded his proposed plan +of operations. Bob listened, and as Dave talked there came into Hart's +eyes dancing imps of deviltry. He gave a subdued whoop of delight, +slapped his dusty white hat on his thigh, and vented his enthusiasm in +murmurs of admiring profanity. + +"It may not work out," suggested his friend. "But if your information is +correct and they come up the arroyo--" + +"It's c'rect enough. Lemme ask you a question. If you was attacktin' us, +wouldn't you come that way?" + +"Yes." + +"Sure. It's the logical way. Dug figures to capture our camp without +firin' a shot. And he'd 'a' done it, too, if we hadn't had warnin'." + +Sanders frowned, his mind busy over the plan. "It ought to work, unless +something upsets it," he said. + +"Sure it'll work. You darned old fox, I never did see yore beat. Say, +if we pull this off right, Dug's gonna pretty near be laughed outa the +county." + +"Keep it quiet. Only three of us need to know it. You stay at the well to +keep Doble's gang back if we slip up. I'll give the signal, and the third +man will fire the fuse." + +"Buck Byington will be here pretty soon. I'll get him to set off the +Fourth-of-July celebration. He's a regular clam--won't ever say a word +about this." + +"When you hear her go off, you'd better bring the men down on the jump." + +Byington came up the road half an hour later at a cowpuncher's jog-trot. +He slid from the saddle and came forward chewing tobacco. His impassive, +leathery face expressed no emotion whatever. Carelessly and casually he +shook hands. "How, Dave?" + +"How, Buck?" answered Sanders. + +The old puncher had always liked Dave Sanders. The boy had begun work +on the range as a protege of his. He had taught him how to read sign and +how to throw a rope. They had ridden out a blizzard together, and the +old-timer had cared for him like a father. The boy had repaid him with +a warm, ingenuous affection, an engaging sweetness of outward respect. +A certain fineness in the eager face had lingered as an inheritance from +his clean youth. No playful pup could have been more friendly. Now Buck +shook hands with a grim-faced man, one a thousand years old in bitter +experience. The eyes let no warmth escape. In the younger man's +consciousness rose the memory of a hundred kindnesses flowing from Buck +to him. Yet he could not let himself go. It was as though the prison +chill had encased his heart in ice which held his impulses fast. + +After dusk had fallen they made their preparations. The three men slipped +away from the bunkhouse into the chaparral. Bob carried a bulging +gunnysack, Dave a lantern, a pick, a drill, and a hammer. None of them +talked till they had reached the entrance to the canon. + +"We'd better get busy before it's too dark," Bob said. "We picked this +spot, Buck. Suit you?" + +Byington had been a hard-rock Colorado miner in his youth. He examined +the dam and came back to the place chosen. After taking off his coat he +picked up the hammer. "Le's start. The sooner the quicker." + +Dave soaked the gunnysack in water and folded it over the top of the +drill to deaden the sound. Buck wielded the hammer and Bob held the +drill. + +After it grew dark they worked by the light of the lantern. Dave and Bob +relieved Buck at the hammer. They drilled two holes, put in the dynamite +charges, tamped them down, and filled in again the holes. The +nitroglycerine, too, was prepared and set for explosion. + +Hart straightened stiffly and looked at his watch. "Time to move back to +camp, Dave. Business may get brisk soon now. Maybe Dug may get in a hurry +and start things earlier than he intended." + +"Don't miss my signal, Buck. Two shots, one right after another," said +Dave. + +"I'll promise you to send back two shots a heap louder. You sure won't +miss 'em," answered Buck with a grin. + +The younger men left him at the dam and went back down the trail to their +camp. + +"No report yet from the lads watchin' the arroyo. I expect Dug's waitin' +till he thinks we're all asleep except the night tower," whispered the +man who had been left in charge by Hart. + +"Dave, you better relieve the boys at the arroyo," suggested Bob. +"Fireworks soon now, I expect." + +Sanders crept through the heavy chaparral to the liveoaks above the +arroyo, snaking his way among cactus and mesquite over the sand. A +watcher jumped up at his approach. Dave raised his hand and moved it +above his head from right to left. The guard disappeared in the darkness +toward the Jackpot. Presently his companion followed him. Dave was left +alone. + +It seemed to him that the multitudinous small voices of the night had +never been more active. A faint trickle of water came up from the bed of +the stream. He knew this was caused by leakage from the reservoir in the +gulch. A tiny rustle stirred the dry grass close to his hand. His peering +into the thick brush did not avail to tell him what form of animal life +was palpitating there. Far away a mocking-bird throbbed out a note or +two, grew quiet, and again became tunefully clamorous. A night owl +hooted. The sound of a soft footfall rolling a pebble brought him to taut +alertness. Eyes and ears became automatic detectives keyed to finest +service. + +A twig snapped in the arroyo. Indistinctly movements of blurred masses +were visible. The figure of a man detached itself from the gloom and +crept along the sandy wash. A second and a third took shape. The dry +bed became filled with vague motion. Sanders waited no longer. He crawled +back from the lip of the ravine a dozen yards, drew his revolver, and +fired twice. + +His guess had been that the attacking party, startled at the shots, would +hesitate and draw together for a whispered conference. This was exactly +what occurred. + +An explosion tore to shreds the stillness of the night. Before the first +had died away a second one boomed out. Dave heard a shower of falling +rock and concrete. He heard, too, a roar growing every moment in volume. +It swept down the walled gorge like a railroad train making up lost time. + +Sanders stepped forward. The gully, lately a wash of dry sand and baked +adobe, was full of a fury of rushing water. Above the noise of it he +caught the echo of a despairing scream. Swiftly he ran, dodging among the +catclaw and the prickly pear like a half-back carrying the ball through +a broken field. His objective was the place where the arroyo opened to +a draw. At this precise spot Steelman had located his derrick. + +The tower no longer tapered gauntly to the sky. The rush of waters +released from the dam had swept it from its foundation, torn apart the +timbers, and scattered them far and wide. With it had gone the wheel, +dragging from the casing the cable. The string of tools, jerked from +their socket, probably lay at the bottom of the well two thousand feet +down. + +Dave heard a groan. He moved toward the sound. A man lay on a sand +hummock, washed up by the tide. + +"Badly hurt?" asked Dave. + +"I've been drowned intirely, swallowed by a flood and knocked galley-west +for Sunday. I don't know yit am I dead or not. Mither o' Moses, phwat was +it hit us?" + +"The dam must have broke." + +"Was the Mississippi corked up in the dom canon?" + +Bob bore down upon the scene at the head of the Jackpot contingent. He +gave a whoop at sight of the wrecked derrick and engine. "Kindlin' wood +and junk," was his verdict. "Where's Dug and his gang?" + +Dave relieved the half-drowned man of his revolver. "Here's one. The rest +must be either in the arroyo or out in the draw." + +"Scatter, boys, and find 'em. Look out for them if they're hurt. Collect +their hardware first off." + +The water by this time had subsided. Released from the walls of the +arroyo, it had spread over the desert. The supply in the reservoir was +probably exhausted, for the stream no longer poured down in a torrent. +Instead, it came in jets, weakly and with spent energy. + +Hart called. "Come here and meet an old friend, Dave." + +Sanders made his way, ankle deep in water, to the spot from which that +irrepressibly gay voice had come. He was still carrying the revolver he +had taken from the Irishman. + +"Meet Shorty, Dave. Don't mind his not risin' to shake. He's just been +wrastlin' with a waterspout and he's some wore out." + +The squat puncher glared at his tormentor. "I done bust my laig," he said +at last sullenly. + +He was wet to the skin. His lank, black hair fell in front of his tough, +unshaven face. One hand nursed the lacerated leg. The other was hooked by +the thumb into the band of his trousers. + +"That worries us a heap, Shorty," answered Hart callously. "I'd say you +got it comin' to you." + +The hand hitched in the trouser band moved slightly. Bob, aware too late +of the man's intention, reached for his six-shooter. Something flew past +him straight and hard. + +Shorty threw up his hands with a yelp and collapsed. He had been struck +in the head by a heavy revolver. + +"Some throwin', Dave. Much obliged," said Hart. "We'll disarm this bird +and pack him back to the derrick." They did. Shorty almost wept with rage +and pain and impotent malice. He cursed steadily and fluently. He might +as well have saved his breath, for his captors paid not the least +attention to his spleen. + +Weak as a drowned rat, Doble came limping out of the ravine. He sat down +on a timber, very sick at the stomach from too much water swallowed in +haste. After he had relieved himself, he looked up wanly and recognized +Hart, who was searching him for a hidden six-shooter. + +"Must 'a' lost yore forty-five whilst you was in swimmin', Dug. Was the +water good this evenin'? I'll bet you and yore lads pulled off a lot o' +fancy stunts when the water come down from Lodore or wherever they had it +corralled." Dancing imps of mischief lit the eyes of the ex-cowpuncher. +"Well, I'll bet the boys in town get a great laugh at yore comedy stuff. +You ce'tainly did a good turn. Oh, you've sure earned yore laugh." + +If hatred could have killed with a look Bob would have been a dead man. +"You blew up the dam," charged Doble. + +"Me! Why, it ain't my dam. Didn't Brad give you orders to open the +sluices to make you a swimmin' hole?" + +The searchers began to straggle in, bringing with them a sadly drenched +and battered lot of gunmen. Not one but looked as though he had been +through the wars. An inventory of wounds showed a sprained ankle, a +broken shoulder blade, a cut head, and various other minor wounds. Nearly +every member of Doble's army was exceedingly nauseated. The men sat down +or leaned up against the wreckage of the plant and drooped wretchedly. +There was not an ounce of fight left in any of them. + +"They must 'a' blew the dam up. Them shots we heard!" one ventured +without spirit. + +"Who blew it up?" demanded one of the Jackpot men belligerently. "If you +say we did, you're a liar." + +He was speaking the truth so far as he knew. The man who had been through +the waters did not take up the challenge. Officers in the army say that +men will not fight on an empty stomach, and his was very empty. + +"I'll remember this, Hart," Doble said, and his face was a thing ill to +look upon. The lips were drawn back so that his big teeth were bared like +tusks. The eyes were yellow with malignity. + +"Y'betcha! The boys'll look after that, Dug," retorted Bob lightly. +"Every time you hook yore heel over the bar rail at the Gusher, you'll +know they're laughin' at you up their sleeves. Sure, you'll remember +it." + +"Some day I'll make yore whole damned outfit sorry for this," the big +hook-nosed man threatened blackly. "No livin' man can laugh at me and get +away with it." + +"I'm laughin' at you, Dug. We all are. Wish you could see yoreself as we +see you. A little water takes a lot o' tuck outa some men who are feelin' +real biggity." + +Byington, at this moment, sauntered into the assembly. He looked around +in simulated surprise. "Must be bath night over at you-all's camp, Dug. +You look kinda drookid yore own self, as you might say." + +Doble swore savagely. He pointed with a shaking finger at Sanders, who +was standing silently in the background. "Tha's the man who's responsible +for this. Think I don't know? That jail bird! That convict! That killer!" +His voice trembled with fury. "You'd never a-thought of it in a thousand +years, Hart. Nor you, Buck, you old fathead. Wait. Tha's what I say. +Wait. It'll be me or him one day. Soon, too." + +The paroled man said nothing, but no words could have been more effective +than the silence of this lean, powerful man with the close-clamped jaw +whose hard eyes watched his enemy so steadily. He gave out an impression +of great vitality and reserve force. Even these hired thugs, dull and +unimaginative though they were, understood that he was dangerous beyond +most fighting men. A laugh snapped the tension. The Jackpot engineer +pointed to a figure emerging from the arroyo. The man who came dejectedly +into view was large and fat and dripping. He was weeping curses and +trying to pick cactus burrs from his anatomy. Dismal groans punctuated +his profanity. + +"It stranded me right on top of a big prickly pear," he complained. "I +like never to 'a' got off, and a million spines are stickin' into me." + +Bob whooped. "Look who's among us. If it ain't our old friend Ad Miller, +the human pincushion. Seein' as he drapped in, we'll collect him right +now and find out if the sheriff ain't lookin' for him to take a trip on +the choo-choo cars." + +The fat convict looked to Doble in vain for help. His friend was staring +at the ground sourly in a huge disgust at life and all that it contained. +Miller limped painfully to the Jackpot in front of Hart. Two days later +he took the train back to the penitentiary. Emerson Crawford made it a +point to see to that. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE LITTLE MOTHER FREES HER MIND + + +If some one had made Emerson Crawford a present of a carload of Herefords +he could not have been more pleased than he was at the result of the +Jackpot crew's night adventure with the Steelman forces. The news came +to him at an opportune moment, for he had just been served notice by the +president of the Malapi First National Bank that Crawford must prepare to +meet at once a call note for $10,000. A few hours earlier in the day the +cattleman had heard it rumored that Steelman had just bought a +controlling interest in the bank. He did not need a lawyer to tell him +that the second fact was responsible for the first. In fact the banker, +personally friendly to Crawford, had as good as told him so. + +Bob rode in with the story of the fracas in time to cheer the drooping +spirits of his employer. Emerson walked up and down the parlor waving his +cigar while Joyce laughed at him. + +"Dawggone my skin, if that don't beat my time! I'm settin' aside five +thousand shares in the Jackpot for Dave Sanders right now. Smartest trick +ever I did see." The justice of the Jackpot's vengeance on its rival and +the completeness of it came home to him as he strode the carpet. "He not +only saves my property without havin' to fight for it--and that was a +blamed good play itself, for I don't want you boys shootin' up anybody +even in self-defense--but he disarms Brad's plug-uglies, humiliates +them, makes them plumb sick of the job, and at the same time wipes out +Steelman's location lock, stock, and barrel. I'll make that ten thousand +shares, by gum! That boy's sure some stemwinder." + +"He uses his haid," admitted Bob admiringly. + +"I'd give my best pup to have been there," said the cattleman +regretfully. + +"It was some show," drawled the younger man. "Drowned rats was what they +reminded me of. Couldn't get a rise out of any of 'em except Dug. That +man's dangerous, if you ask me. He's crazy mad at all of us, but most +at Dave." + +"Will he hurt him?" asked Joyce quickly. + +"Can't tell. He'll try. That's a cinch." + +The dark brown eyes of the girl brooded. "That's not fair. We can't let +him run into more danger for us, Dad. He's had enough trouble already. We +must do something. Can't you send him to the Spring Valley Ranch?" + +"Meanin' Dug Doble?" asked Bob. + +She flashed a look of half-smiling, half-tender reproach at him. "You +know who I mean, Bob. And I'm not going to have him put in danger on our +account," she added with naive dogmatism. + +"Joy's right. She's sure right," admitted Crawford. + +"Maybeso." Hart fell into his humorous drawl. "How do you aim to get +him to Spring Valley? You goin' to have him hawg-tied and shipped as +freight?" + +"I'll talk to him. I'll tell him he must go." Her resolute little face +was aglow and eager. "It's time Malapi was civilized. We mustn't give +these bad men provocation. It's better to avoid them." + +"Yes," admitted Bob dryly. "Well, you tell all that to Dave. Maybe he's +the kind o' lad that will pack up and light out because he's afraid of +Dug Doble and his outfit. Then again maybe he ain't." + +Crawford shook his head. He was a game man himself. He would go through +when the call came, and he knew quite well that Sanders would do the +same. Nor would any specious plea sidetrack him. At the same time there +was substantial justice in the contention of his daughter. Dave had no +business getting mixed up in this row. The fact that he was an ex-convict +would be in itself a damning thing in case the courts ever had to pass +upon the feud's results. The conviction on the records against him would +make a second conviction very much easier. + +"You're right, Bob. Dave won't let Dug's crowd run him out. But you keep +an eye on him. Don't let him go out alone nights. See he packs a gun." + +"Packs a gun!" Joyce was sitting in a rocking-chair under the glow of the +lamp. She was darning one of Keith's stockings, and to the young man +watching her--so wholly winsome girl, so much tender but business-like +little mother--she was the last word in the desirability of woman. +"That's the very way to find trouble, Dad. He's been doing his best to +keep out of it. He can't, if he stays here. So he must go away, that's +all there is to it." + +Her father laughed. "Ain't it scandalous the way she bosses us all +around, Bob?" + +The face of the girl sparkled to a humorous challenge. "Well, some one +has got to boss you-all boys, Dad. If you'd do as I say you wouldn't have +any trouble with that old Steelman or his gunmen." + +"We wouldn't have any oil wells either, would we, honey?" + +"They're not worth having if you and Dave Sanders and Bob have to live in +danger all the time," she flashed. + +"Glad you look at it that way, Joy," Emerson retorted with a rueful +smile. "Fact is, we ain't goin' to have any more oil wells than a +jackrabbit pretty soon. I'm at the end of my rope right now. The First +National promised me another loan on the Arizona ranch, but Brad has got +a-holt of it and he's called in my last loan. I'm not quittin'. I'll put +up a fight yet, but unless things break for me I'm about done." + +"Oh, Dad!" Her impulse of sympathy carried Joyce straight to him. Soft, +rounded arms went round his neck with impassioned tenderness. "I didn't +dream it was as bad as that. You've been worrying all this time and you +never let me know." + +He stroked her hair fondly. "You're the blamedest little mother ever I +did see--always was. Now don't you fret. It'll work out somehow. Things +do." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE HOLD-UP + + +To Sanders, working on afternoon tower at Jackpot Number Three, the lean, +tanned driller in charge of operations was wise with an uncanny knowledge +the newcomer could not fathom. For eight hours at a stretch he stood on +the platform and watched a greasy cable go slipping into the earth. Every +quiver of it, every motion of the big walking-beam, every kick of the +engine, told him what was taking place down that narrow pipe two thousand +feet below the surface. He knew when the tools were in clay and had +become gummed up. He could tell just when the drill had cut into hard +rock at an acute angle and was running out of the perpendicular to follow +the softer stratum. His judgment appeared infallible as to whether he +ought to send down a reamer to straighten the kink. All Dave knew was +that a string of tools far underground was jerking up and down +monotonously. + +This spelt romance to Jed Burns, superintendent of operations, though he +would never have admitted it. He was a bachelor; always would be one. +Hard-working, hard-drinking, at odd times a plunging gambler, he lived +for nothing but oil and the atmosphere of oil fields. From one boom +to another he drifted, as inevitably as the gamblers, grafters, and +organizers of "fake" companies. Several times he had made fortunes, but +it was impossible for him to stay rich. He was always ready to back a +drilling proposition that looked promising, and no independent speculator +can continue to wildcat without going broke. + +He was sifting sand through his fingers when Dave came on tower +the day after the flood. To Bob Hart, present as Crawford's personal +representative, he expressed an opinion. + +"Right soon now or never. Sand tastes, feels, looks, and smells like oil. +But you can't ever be sure. An oil prospect is like a woman. She will or +she won't, you never can tell which. Then, if she does, she's liable to +change her mind." + +Dave sniffed the pleasing, pungent odor of the crude oil sands. His +friend had told him that Crawford's fate hung in the balance. Unless oil +flowed very soon in paying quantities he was a ruined man. The control of +the Jackpot properties would probably pass into the hands of Steelman. +The cattleman would even lose the ranches which had been the substantial +basis of his earlier prosperity. + +Everybody working on the Jackpot felt the excitement as the drill began +to sink into the oil-bearing sands. Most of the men owned stock in the +company. Moreover, they were getting a bonus for their services and had +been promised an extra one if Number Three struck oil in paying +quantities before Steelman's crew did. Even to an outsider there is a +fascination in an oil well. It is as absorbing to the drillers as a +girl's mind is to her hopeful lover. Dave found it impossible to escape +the contagion of this. Moreover, he had ten thousand shares in the +Jackpot, stock turned over to him out of the treasury supply by the board +of directors in recognition of services which they did not care to +specify in the resolution which authorized the transfer. At first he had +refused to accept this, but Bob Hart had put the matter to him in such a +light that he changed his mind. + +"The oil business pays big for expert advice, no matter whether it's +legal or technical. What you did was worth fifty times what the board +voted you. If we make a big strike you've saved the company. If we don't +the stock's not worth a plugged nickel anyhow. You've earned what we +voted you. Hang on to it, Dave." + +Dave had thanked the board and put the stock in his pocket. Now he felt +himself drawn into the drama represented by the thumping engine which +continued day and night. + +After his shift was over, he rode to town with Bob behind his team of +wild broncos. + +"Got to look for an engineer for the night tower," Hart explained as he +drew up in front of the Gusher Saloon. "Come in with me. It's some +gambling-hell, if you ask me." + +The place hummed with the turbulent life that drifts to every wild +frontier on the boom. Faro dealers from the Klondike, poker dealers from +Nome, roulette croupiers from Leadville, were all here to reap the rich +harvest to be made from investors, field workers, and operators. Smooth +grafters with stock in worthless companies for sale circulated in and out +with blue-prints and whispered inside information. The men who were +ranged in front of the bar, behind which half a dozen attendants in white +aprons busily waited on their wants, usually talked oil and nothing but +oil. To-day they had another theme. The same subject engrossed the groups +scattered here and there throughout the large hall. + +In the rear of the room were the faro layouts, the roulette wheels, and +the poker players. Around each of these the shifting crowd surged. +Mexicans, Chinese, and even Indians brushed shoulders with white men of +many sorts and conditions. The white-faced professional gambler was in +evidence, winning the money of big brown men in miner's boots and +corduroys. The betting was wild and extravagant, for the spirit of the +speculator had carried away the cool judgment of most of these men. They +had seen a barber become a millionaire in a day because the company in +which he had plunged had struck a gusher. They had seen the same man +borrow five dollars three months later to carry him over until he got a +job. Riches were pouring out of the ground for the gambler who would take +a chance. Thrift was a much-discredited virtue in Malapi. The one +unforgivable vice was to be "a piker." + +Bob found his man at a faro table. While the cards were being shuffled, +he engaged him to come out next evening to the Jackpot properties. As +soon as the dealer began to slide the cards out of the case the attention +of the engineer went back to his bets. + +While Dave was standing close to the wall, ready to leave as soon as Bob +returned to him, he caught sight of an old acquaintance. Steve Russell +was playing stud poker at a table a few feet from him. The cowpuncher +looked up and waved his hand. + +"See you in a minute, Dave," he called, and as soon as the pot had been +won he said to the man shuffling the cards, "Deal me out this hand." + +He rose, stepped across to Sanders, and shook hands with a strong grip. +"You darned old son-of-a-gun! I'm sure glad to see you. Heard you was +back. Say, you've ce'tainly been goin' some. Suits me. I never did like +either Dug or Miller a whole lot. Dug's one sure-enough bad man and +Miller's a tinhorn would-be. What you did to both of 'em was a-plenty. +But keep yore eye peeled, old-timer. Miller's where he belongs again, +but Dug's still on the range, and you can bet he's seein' red these +days. He'll gun you if he gets half a chance." + +"Yes," said Dave evenly. + +"You don't figure to let yoreself get caught again without a +six-shooter." Steve put the statement with the rising inflection. + +"No." + +"Tha's right. Don't let him get the drop on you. He's sudden death with +a gun." + +Bob joined them. After a moment's conversation Russell drew them to a +corner of the room that for the moment was almost deserted. + +"Say, you heard the news, Bob?" + +"I can tell you that better after I know what it is," returned Hart with +a grin. + +"The stage was held up at Cottonwood Bend and robbed of seventeen +thousand dollars. The driver was killed." + +"When?" + +"This mo'nin'. They tried to keep it quiet, but it leaked out." + +"Whose money was it?" + +"Brad Steelman's pay roll and a shipment of gold for the bank." + +"Any idea who did it?" + +Steve showed embarrassment. "Why, no, _I_ ain't, if that's what you +mean." + +"Well, anybody else?" + +"Tha's what I wanta tell you. Two men were in the job. They're whisperin' +that Em Crawford was one." + +"Crawford! Some of Steelman's fine work in that rumor, I'll bet. He's +crazy if he thinks he can get away with that. Tha's plumb foolish talk. +What evidence does he claim?" demanded Hart. + +"Em deposited ten thousand with the First National to pay off a note he +owed the bank. Rode into town right straight to the bank two hours after +the stage got in. Then, too, seems one of the hold-ups called the other +one Crawford." + +"A plant," said Dave promptly. + +"Looks like." Bob's voice was rich with sarcasm. "I don't reckon the +other one rose up on his hind laigs and said, 'I'm Bob Hart,' did he?" + +"They claim the second man was Dave here." + +"Hmp! What time d'you say this hold-up took place?" + +"Must 'a' been about eleven." + +"Lets Dave out. He was fifteen miles away, and we can prove it by at +least six witnesses." + +"Good. I reckon Em can put in an alibi too." + +"I'll bet he can." Hart promised this with conviction. + +"Trouble is they say they've got witnesses to show Em was travelin' +toward the Bend half an hour before the hold-up. Art Johnson and Clem +Purdy met him while they was on their way to town." + +"Was Crawford alone?" + +"He was then. Yep." + +"Any one might'a' been there. You might. I might. That don't prove a +thing." + +"Hell, I know Em Crawford's not mixed up in any hold-up, let alone a +damned cowardly murder. You don't need to tell _me_ that. Point is that +evidence is pilin' up. Where did Em get the ten thousand to pay the bank? +Two days ago he was tryin' to increase the loan the First National had +made him." + +Dave spoke. "I don't know where he got it, but unless he's a born +fool--and nobody ever claimed that of Crawford--he wouldn't take the +money straight to the bank after he had held up the stage and killed +the driver. That's a strong point in his favor." + +"If he can show where he got the ten thousand," amended Russell. "And of +course he can." + +"And where he spent that two hours after the hold-up before he came to +town. That'll have to be explained too," said Bob. + +"Oh, Em he'll be able to explain that all right," decided Steve +cheerfully. + +"Where is Crawford now?" asked Dave. "He hasn't been arrested, has he?" + +"Not yet. But he's bein' watched. Soon as he showed up at the bank the +sheriff asked to look at his six-shooter. Two cartridges had been fired. +One of the passengers on the stage told me two shots was fired from a +six-gun by the boss hold-up. The second one killed old Tim Harrigan." + +"Did they accuse Crawford of the killing?" + +"Not directly. He was asked to explain. I ain't heard what his story +was." + +"We'd better go to his house and talk with him," suggested Hart. "Maybe +he can give as good an alibi as you, Dave." + +"You and I will go straight there," decided Sanders. "Steve, get three +saddle horses. We'll ride out to the Bend and see what we can learn on +the ground." + +"I'll cash my chips, get the broncs, and meet you lads at Crawford's," +said Russell promptly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +NUMBER THREE COMES IN + + +Joyce opened the door to the knock of the young men. At sight of them her +face lit. + +"Oh, I'm so glad you've come!" she cried, tears in her voice. She caught +her hands together in a convulsive little gesture. "Isn't it dreadful? +I've been afraid all the time that something awful would happen--and +now it has." + +"Don't you worry, Miss Joyce," Bob told her cheerfully. "We ain't gonna +let anything happen to yore paw. We aim to get busy right away and run +this thing down. Looks like a frame-up. If it is, you betcha we'll get +at the truth." + +"Will you? Can you?" She turned to Dave in appeal, eyes starlike in a +face that was a white and shining oval in the semi-darkness. + +"We'll try," he said simply. + +Something in the way he said it, in the quiet reticence of his promise, +sent courage flowing to her heart. She had called on him once before, and +he had answered splendidly and recklessly. + +"Where's Mr. Crawford?" asked Bob. + +"He's in the sitting-room. Come right in." + +Her father was sitting in a big chair, one leg thrown carelessly over the +arm. He was smoking a cigar composedly. + +"Come in, boys," he called. "Reckon you've heard that I'm a stage rustler +and a murderer." + +Joyce cried out at this, the wide, mobile mouth trembling. + +"Just now. At the Gusher," said Bob. "They didn't arrest you?" + +"Not yet. They're watchin' the house. Sit down, and I'll tell it to you." + +He had gone out to see a homesteader about doing some work for him. On +the way he had met Johnson and Purdy near the Bend, just before he had +turned up a draw leading to the place in the hills owned by the man whom +he wanted to see. Two hours had been spent riding to the little valley +where the nester had built his corrals and his log house, and when +Crawford arrived neither he nor his wife was at home. He returned to the +road, without having met a soul since he had left it, and from there +jogged on back to town. On the way he had fired twice at a rattlesnake. + +"You never reached the Bend, then, at all," said Dave. + +"No, but I cayn't prove I didn't." The old cattleman looked at the end of +his cigar thoughtfully. "Nor I cayn't prove I went out to Dick Grein's +place in that three-four hours not accounted for." + +"Anyhow, you can show where you got the ten thousand dollars you paid the +bank," said Bob hopefully. + +A moment of silence; then Crawford spoke. "No, son, I cayn't tell that +either." + +Faint and breathless with suspense, Joyce looked at her father with +dilated eyes. "Why not?" + +"Because the money was loaned me on those conditions." + +"But--but--don't you see, Dad?--if you don't tell that--" + +"They'll think I'm guilty. Well, I reckon they'll have to think it, Joy." +The steady gray eyes looked straight into the brown ones of the girl. +"I've been in this county boy and man for 'most fifty years. Any one +that's willin' to think me a cold-blooded murderer at this date, why, +he's welcome to hold any opinion he pleases. I don't give a damn what he +thinks." + +"But we've got to prove--" + +"No, we haven't. They've got to do the proving. The law holds me innocent +till I'm found guilty." + +"But you don't aim to keep still and let a lot of miscreants blacken yore +good name!" suggested Hart. + +"You bet I don't, Bob. But I reckon I'll not break my word to a friend +either, especially under the circumstances this money was loaned." + +"He'll release you when he understands," cried Joyce. + +"Don't bank on that, honey," Crawford said slowly. + +"You ain't to mention this. I'm tellin' you three private. He cayn't come +out and tell that he let me have the money. Understand? You don't any of +you know a thing about how I come by that ten thousand. I've refused to +answer questions about that money. That's my business." + +"Oh, but, Dad, you can't do that. You'll have to give an explanation. +You'll have to--" + +"The best explanation I can give, Joy, is to find out who held up the +stage and killed Tim Harrigan. It's the only one that will satisfy me. +It's the only one that will satisfy my friends." + +"That's true," said Sanders. + +"Steve Russell is bringin' hawsses," said Bob. "We'll ride out to the +Bend to-night and be ready for business there at the first streak of +light. Must be some trail left by the hold-ups." + +Crawford shook his head. "Probably not. Applegate had a posse out there +right away. You know Applegate. He'd blunder if he had a chance. His boys +have milled all over the place and destroyed any trail that was left." + +"We'll go out anyhow--Dave and Steve and I. Won't do any harm. We're +liable to discover something, don't you reckon?" + +"Maybeso. Who's that knockin' on the door, Joy?" + +Some one was rapping on the front door imperatively. The girl opened it, +to let into the hall a man in greasy overalls. + +"Where's Mr. Crawford?" he demanded excitedly. + +"Here. In the sitting-room. What's wrong?" + +"Wrong! Not a thing!" He talked as he followed Joyce to the door of the +room. "Except that Number Three's come in the biggest gusher ever I see. +She's knocked the whole superstructure galley-west an' she's rip-r'arin' +to beat the Dutch." + +Emerson Crawford leaped to his feet, for once visibly excited. "What?" he +demanded. "Wha's that?" + +"Jus' like I say. The oil's a-spoutin' up a hundred feet like a fan. +Before mornin' the sump holes will be full and she'll be runnin' all over +the prairie." + +"Burns sent you?" + +"Yep. Says for you to get men and teams and scrapers and gunnysacks and +heavy timbers out there right away. Many as you can send." + +Crawford turned to Bob, his face aglow. "Yore job, Bob. Spread the news. +Rustle up everybody you can get. Arrange with the railroad grade +contractor to let us have all his men, teams, and scrapers till we get +her hogtied and harnessed. Big wages and we'll feed the whole outfit +free. Hire anybody you can find. Buy a coupla hundred shovels and send +'em out to Number Three. Get Robinson to move his tent-restaurant out +there." + +Hart nodded. "What about this job at the Bend?" he asked in a low voice. + +"Dave and I'll attend to that. You hump on the Jackpot job. Sons, we're +rich, all three of us. Point is to keep from losin' that crude on the +prairie. Keep three shifts goin' till she's under control." + +"We can't do anything at the Bend till morning," said Dave. "We'd better +put the night in helping Bob." + +"Sure. We've got to get all Malapi busy. A dozen business men have got to +come down and open up their stores so's we can get supplies," agreed +Emerson. + +Joyce, her face flushed and eager, broke in. "Ring the fire bell. That's +the quickest way." + +"Sure enough. You got a haid on yore shoulders. Dave, you attend to that. +Bob, hit the dust for the big saloons and gather men. I'll see O'Connor +about the railroad outfit; then I'll come down to the fire-house and talk +to the crowd. We'll wake this old town up to-night, sons." + +"What about me?" asked the messenger. + +"You go back and tell Jed to hold the fort till Hart and his material +arrives." + +Outside, they met Russell riding down the road, two saddled horses +following. With a word of explanation they helped themselves to his +mounts while he stared after them in surprise. + +"I'll be dawggoned if they-all ain't three gents in a hurry," he murmured +to the breezes of the night. "Well, seein' as I been held up, I reckon +I'll have to walk back while the hawss-thieves ride." + +Five minutes later the fire-bell clanged out its call to Malapi. From +roadside tent and gambling-hall, from houses and camp-fires, men and +women poured into the streets. For Malapi was a shell-town, tightly +packed and inflammable, likely to go up in smoke whenever a fire should +get beyond control of the volunteer company. Almost in less time than it +takes to tell it, the square was packed with hundreds of lightly clad +people and other hundreds just emerging from the night life of the place. + +The clangor of the bell died away, but the firemen did not run out the +hose and bucket cart. The man tugging the rope had told them why he was +summoning the citizens. + +"Some one's got to go out and explain to the crowd," said the fire chief +to Dave. "If you know about this strike you'll have to tell the boys." + +"Crawford said he'd talk," answered Sanders. + +"He ain't here. It's up to you. Go ahead. Just tell 'em why you rang the +bell." + +Dave found himself pushed forward to the steps of the court-house a few +yards away. He had never before attempted to speak in public, and he had +a queer, dry tightening of the throat. But as soon as he began to talk +the words he wanted came easily enough. + +"Jackpot Number Three has come in a big gusher," he said, lifting his +voice so that it would carry to the edge of the crowd. + +Hundreds of men in the crowd owned stock in the Jackpot properties. At +Dave's words a roar went up into the night. Men shouted, danced, or +merely smiled, according to their temperament. Presently the thirst +for news dominated the enthusiasm. Gradually the uproar was stilled. + +Again Dave's voice rang out clear as the bell he had been tolling. "The +report is that it's one of the biggest strikes ever known in the State. +The derrick has been knocked to pieces and the oil's shooting into the +air a hundred feet." + +A second great shout drowned his words. This was an oil crowd. It dreamed +oil, talked oil, thought oil, prayed for oil. A stranger in the town was +likely to feel at first that the place was oil mad. What else can be said +of a town with derricks built through its front porches and even the +graveyard leased to a drilling company? + +"The sump holes are filling," went on Sanders. "Soon the oil will the +running to waste on the prairie. We need men, teams, tools, wagons, +hundreds of slickers, tents, beds, grub. The wages will be one-fifty a +day more than the run of wages in the camp until the emergency has been +met, and Emerson Crawford will board all the volunteers who come out to +dig." + +The speaker was lost again, this time in a buzz of voices of excited men. +But out of the hubbub Dave's shout became heard. + +"All owners of teams and tools, all dealers in hardware and groceries, +are asked to step to the right-hand side of the crowd for a talk with Mr. +Crawford. Men willing to work till the gusher is under control, please +meet Bob Hart in front of the fire-house. I'll see any cooks and +restaurant-men alive to a chance to make money fast. Right here at the +steps." + +"Good medicine, son," boomed Emerson Crawford, slapping him on the +shoulder. "Didn't know you was an orator, but you sure got this crowd +goin'. Bob here yet?" + +"Yes. I saw him a minute ago in the crowd. Sorry I had to make promises +for you, but the fire chief wouldn't let me keep the crowd waiting. Some +one had to talk." + +"Suits me. I'll run you for Congress one o' these days." Then, "I'll send +the grocery-men over to you. Tell them to get the grub out to-night. If +the restaurant-men don't buy it I'll run my own chuck wagon outfit. See +you later, Dave." + +For the next twenty-four hours there was no night in Malapi. Streets were +filled with shoutings, hurried footfalls, the creaking of wagons, and the +thud of galloping horses. Stores were lit up and filled with buyers. For +once the Gusher and the Oil Pool and other resorts held small attraction +for the crowds. The town was moving out to see the big new discovery that +was to revolutionize its fortunes with the opening of a new and +tremendously rich field. Every ancient rig available was pressed into +service to haul men or supplies out to the Jackpot location. Scarcely a +minute passed, after the time that the first team took the road, without +a loaded wagon, packed to the sideboards, moving along the dusty road +into the darkness of the desert. + +Three travelers on horseback rode in the opposite direction. Their +destination was Cottonwood Bend. Two of them were Emerson Crawford and +David Sanders. The third was an oil prospector who had been a passenger +on the stage when it was robbed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE GUSHER + + +Jackpot number three had come in with a roar that shook the earth for +half a mile. Deep below the surface there was a hiss and a crackle, the +shock of rending strata giving way to the pressure of the oil pool. From +long experience as a driller, Jed Burns knew what was coming. He swept +his crew back from the platform, and none too soon to escape disaster. +They were still flying across the prairie when the crown box catapulted +into the sky and the whole drilling superstructure toppled over. Rocks, +clay, and sand were hurled into the air, to come down in a shower that +bombarded everything within a radius of several hundred yards. + +The landscape next moment was drenched in black petroleum. The fine +particles of it filled the air, sprayed the cactus and the greasewood. +Rivulets of the viscid stuff began to gather in depressions and to flow +in gathering volume, as tributaries joined the stream, into the sump +holes prepared for it. The pungent odor of crude oil, as well as the +touch and the taste of it, penetrated the atmosphere. + +Burns counted noses and discovered that none of his crew had been injured +by falling rocks or beams. He knew that his men could not possibly cope +with this geyser on a spree. It was a big strike, the biggest in the +history of the district, and to control the flow of the gusher would +necessitate tremendous efforts on a wholesale plan. + +One of his men he sent in to Malapi on horseback with a hurry-up call to +Emerson Crawford, president of the company, for tools, machinery, men, +and teams. The others he put to salvaging the engine and accessories +and to throwing up an earth dike around the sump hole as a barrier +against the escaping crude. All through the night he fought impotently +against this giant that had burst loose from its prison two thousand feet +below the surface of the earth. + +With the first faint streaks of day men came galloping across the desert +to the Jackpot. They came at first on horseback, singly, and later by +twos and threes. A buckboard appeared on the horizon, the driver leaning +forward as he urged on his team. + +"Hart," decided the driller, "and comin' hell-for-leather." + +Other teams followed, buggies, surreys, light wagons, farm wagons, and +at last heavily laden lumber wagons. Business in Malapi was "shot to +pieces," as one merchant expressed it. Everybody who could possibly get +away was out to see the big gusher. + +There was an immediate stampede to make locations in the territory +adjacent. The wildcatter flourished. Companies were formed in ten minutes +and the stock subscribed for in half an hour. From the bootblack at +the hotel to the banker, everybody wanted stock in every company drilling +within a reasonable distance of Jackpot Number Three. Many legitimate +incorporations appeared on the books of the Secretary of State, and along +with these were scores of frauds intended only to gull the small investor +and separate him from his money. Saloons and gambling-houses, which did +business with such childlike candor and stridency, became offices for +the sale and exchange of stock. The boom at Malapi got its second wind. +Workmen, investors, capitalists, and crooks poured in to take advantage +of the inflation brought about by the new strike in a hitherto unknown +field. For the fame of Jackpot Number Three had spread wide. The +production guesses ranged all the way from ten to fifty thousand +barrels a day, most of which was still going to waste on the desert. + +For Burns and Hart had not yet gained control over the flow, though an +army of men in overalls and slickers fought the gusher night and day. The +flow never ceased for a moment. The well steadily spouted a stream of +black liquid into the air from the subterranean chamber into which the +underground lake poured. + +The attack had two objectives. The first was to check the outrush of oil. +The second was to save the wealth emerging from the mouth of the well and +streaming over the lip of the reservoir to the sandy desert. + +A crew of men, divided into three shifts, worked with pick, shovel, +and scraper to dig a second and a third sump hole. The dirt from the +excavation was dumped at the edge of the working to build a dam for the +fluid. Sacks filled with wet sand reinforced this dirt. + +Meanwhile the oil boiled up in the lake and flowed over its edges in +streams. As soon as the second reservoir was ready the tarry stuff was +siphoned into it from the original sump hole. By the time this was full a +third pool was finished, and into it the overflow was diverted. But in +spite of the great effort made to save the product of the gusher, the +sands absorbed many thousands of dollars' worth of petroleum. + +This end of the work was under the direction of Bob Hart. For ten days he +did not take off his clothes. When he slept it was in cat naps, an hour +snatched now and again from the fight with the rising tide of wealth +that threatened to engulf its owners. He was unshaven, unbathed, his +clothes slimy with tar and grease. He ate on the job--coffee, beans, +bacon, cornbread, whatever the cooks' flunkies brought him--and did not +know what he was eating. Gaunt and dominating, with crisp decision and +yet unfailing good-humor, he bossed the gangs under him and led them +into the fight, holding them at it till flesh and blood revolted with +weariness. Of such stuff is the true outdoor Westerner made. He may drop +in his tracks from exhaustion after the emergency has been met, but so +long as the call for action lasts he will stick to the finish. + +At the other end Jed Burns commanded. One after another he tried all the +devices he had known to succeed in capping or checking other gushers. The +flow was so continuous and powerful that none of these were effective. +Some wells flow in jets. They hurl out oil, die down like a geyser, and +presently have another hemorrhage. Jackpot Number Three did not pulse as +a cut artery does. Its output was steady as the flow of water in a pipe. +The heavy timbers with which he tried to stop up the outlet were hurled +aside like straws. He could not check the flow long enough to get +control. + +On the evening of the tenth day Burns put in the cork. He made elaborate +preparations in advance and assigned his force to the posts where they +were to work. A string of eight-inch pipe sixty feet long was slid +forward and derricked over the stream. Above this a large number of steel +rails, borrowed from the incoming road, were lashed to the pipe to +prevent it from snapping. The pipe had been fitted with valves of various +sizes. After it had been fastened to the well's casing, these were +gradually reduced to check the flow without causing a blowout in the pipe +line. + +Six hours later a metropolitan newspaper carried the headline: + +BIG GUSHER HARNESSED; +AFTER WILD RAMPAGE + +Jackpot No. 3 at Malapi Tamed +Long Battle Ended + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +SHORTY + + +It was a surprise to Dave to discover that the horse Steve had got for +him was his own old favorite Chiquito. The pinto knew him. He tested this +by putting him through some of his old tricks. The horse refused to dance +or play dead, but at the word of command his right foreleg came up to +shake hands. He nuzzled his silky nose against the coat of his master +just as in the days of old. + +Crawford rode a bay, larger than a bronco. The oil prospector was +astride a rangy roan. He was no horseman, but as a perpetual-motion +conversationalist the old wildcatter broke records. He was a short barrel +of a man, with small eyes set close together, and he made a figure of fun +perched high up in the saddle. But he permitted no difficulties of travel +to interfere with his monologue. + +"The boss hold-up wasn't no glad-hand artist," he explained. "He was a +sure-enough sulky devil, though o'course we couldn't see his face behind +the mask. Blue mask it was, made outa a bandanna handkerchief. Well, +rightaway I knew somethin' was liable to pop, for old Harrigan, scared to +death, kep' a-goin' just the same. Maybe he hadn't sense enough to stop, +as the fellow says. Maybe he didn't want to. Bang-bang! I reckon Tim was +dead before he hit the ground. They lined us up, but they didn't take a +thing except the gold and one Chicago fellow's watch. Then they cut the +harness and p'int for the hills." + +"How do you know they made for the hills?" asked Dave. + +"Well, they naturally would. Anyhow, they lit out round the Bend. I +hadn't lost 'em none, and I wasn't lookin' to see where they went. Not in +this year of our Lord. I'm right careless at times, but not enough so to +make inquiries of road agents when they're red from killin'. I been told +I got no terminal facilities of speech, but it's a fact I didn't chirp +from start to finish of the hold-up. I was plumb reticent." + +Light sifted into the sky. The riders saw the colors change in a desert +dawn. The hilltops below them were veiled in a silver-blue mist. Far away +Malapi rose out of the caldron, its cheapness for once touched to a +moment of beauty and significance. In that glorified sunrise it might +have been a jeweled city of dreams. + +The prospector's words flowed on. Crystal dawns might come and go, +succeeding mist scarfs of rose and lilac, but a great poet has said +that speech is silver. + +"No, sir. When a man has got the drop on me I don't aim to argue with +him. Not none. Tim Harrigan had notions. Different here. I've done some +rough-housin'. When a guy puts up his dukes I'm there. Onct down in +Sonora I slammed a fellow so hard he woke up among strangers. Fact. I +don't make claims, but up at Carbondale they say I'm some rip-snorter +when I get goin' good. I'm quiet. I don't go around with a chip on my +shoulder. It's the quiet boys you want to look out for. Am I right?" + +Crawford gave a little snort of laughter and covered it hastily with a +cough. + +"You know it," went on the quiet man who was a rip-snorter when he got +going. "In regards to that, I'll say my observation is that when you meet +a small man with a steady gray eye it don't do a bit of harm to spend +a lot of time leavin' him alone. He may be good-natured, but he won't +stand no devilin', take it from me." + +The small man with the gray eye eased himself in the saddle and moistened +his tongue for a fresh start. "But I'm not one o' these foolhardy idiots +who have to have wooden suits made for 'em because they don't know when +to stay mum. You cattlemen have lived a quiet life in the hills, but I've +been right where the tough ones crowd for years. I'll tell you there's a +time to talk and a time to keep still, as the old sayin' is." + +"Yes," agreed Crawford. + +"Another thing. I got an instinct that tells me when folks are interested +in what I say. I've seen talkers that went right on borin' people and +never caught on. They'd talk yore arm off without gettin' wise to it that +you'd had a-plenty. That kind of talker ain't fit for nothin' but to +wrangle Mary's little lamb 'way off from every human bein'." + +In front of the riders a group of cottonwoods lifted their branches at +a sharp bend in the road. Just before they reached this turn a bridge +crossed a dry irrigating lateral. + +"After Harrigan had been shot I came to the ditch for some water, but she +was dry as a whistle. Ever notice how things are that way? A fellow wants +water; none there. It's rainin' rivers; the ditch is runnin' strong. +There's a sermon for a preacher," said the prospector. + +The cattleman nodded to Dave. "I noticed she was dry when I crossed +higher up on my way out. But she was full up with water when I saw her +after I had been up to Dick Grein's." + +"Funny," commented Sanders. "Nobody would want water to irrigate at this +season. Who turned the water in? And why?" + +"Beats me," answered Crawford. "But it don't worry me any. I've got +troubles of my own." + +They reached the cottonwoods, and the oil prospector pointed out to them +just where the stage had been when the bandits first appeared. He showed +them the bushes from behind which the robbers had stepped, the place +occupied by the passengers after they had been lined up, and the course +taken by the hold-ups after the robbery. + +The road ran up a long, slow incline to the Bend, which was the crest of +the hill. Beyond it the wheel tracks went down again with a sharp dip. +The stage had been stopped just beyond the crest, just at the beginning +of the down grade. + +"The coach must have just started to move downhill when the robbers +jumped out from the bushes," suggested Dave. + +"Sure enough. That's probably howcome Tim to make a mistake. He figured +he could give the horses the whip and make a getaway. The hold-up saw +that. He had to shoot to kill or lose the gold. Bein' as he was a +cold-blooded killer he shot." There were pinpoints of light in Emerson +Crawford's eyes. He knew now the kind of man they were hunting. He was an +assassin of a deadly type, not a wild cowboy who had fired in excitement +because his nerves had betrayed him. + +"Yes. Tim knew what he was doing. He took a chance the hold-ups wouldn't +shoot to kill. Most of 'em won't. That was his mistake. If he'd seen the +face behind that mask he would have known better," said Dave. + +Crawford quartered over the ground. "Just like I thought, Dave. Applegate +and his posse have been here and stomped out any tracks the robbers left. +No way of tellin' which of all these footprints belonged to them. Likely +none of 'em. If I didn't know better I'd think some one had been givin' a +dance here, the way the ground is cut up." + +They made a wide circle to try to pick up the trail wanted, and again a +still larger one. Both of these attempts failed. + +"Looks to me like they flew away," the cattleman said at last. "Horses +have got hoofs and hoofs make tracks. I see plenty of these, but I don't +find any place where the animals waited while this thing was bein' +pulled off." + +"The sheriff's posse has milled over the whole ground so thoroughly we +can't be sure. But there's a point in what you say. Maybe they left their +horses farther up the hill and walked back to them," Dave hazarded. + +"No-o, son. This job was planned careful. Now the hold-ups didn't know +whether they'd have to make a quick getaway or not. They would have their +horses handy, but out of sight." + +"Why not in the dry ditch back of the cotton woods?" asked Dave with a +flash of light. + +Crawford stared at him, but at last shook his head, "I reckon not. In the +sand and clay there the hoofs would show too plain." + +"What if the hold-ups knew the ditch was going to be filled before the +pursuit got started?" + +"You mean--?" + +"I mean they might have arranged to have the water turned into the +lateral to wipe out their tracks." + +"I'll be dawged if you ain't on a warm trail, son," murmured Crawford. +"And if they knew that, why wouldn't they ride either up or down the +ditch and leave no tracks a-tall?" + +"They would--for a way, anyhow. Up or down, which?" + +"Down, so as to reach Malapi and get into the Gusher before word came of +the hold-up," guessed Crawford. + +"Up, because in the hills there's less chance of being seen," differed +Dave. "Crooks like them can fix up an alibi when they need one. They had +to get away unseen, in a hurry, and to get rid of the gold soon in case +they should be seen." + +"You've rung the bell, son. Up it is. It's an instinct of an outlaw to +make for the hills where he can hole up when in trouble." + +The prospector had been out of the conversation long enough. + +"Depends who did this," he said. "If they come from the town, they'd want +to get back there in a hurry. If not, they'd steer clear of folks. Onct, +when I was in Oklahoma, a nigger went into a house and shot a white man +he claimed owed him money. He made his getaway, looked like, and the +whole town hunted for him for fifty miles. They found him two days later +in the cellar of the man he had killed." + +"Well, you can go look in Tim Harrigan's cellar if you've a mind to. Dave +and I are goin' up the ditch," said the old cattleman, smiling. + +"I'll tag along, seein' as I've been drug in this far. All I'll say is +that when we get to the bottom of this, we'll find it was done by fellows +you'd never suspect. I know human nature. My guess is no drunken cowboy +pulled this off. No, sir. I'd look higher for the men." + +"How about Parson Brown and the school superintendent?" asked Crawford. + +"You can laugh. All right. Wait and see. Somehow I don't make mistakes. +I'm lucky that way. Use my judgment, I reckon. Anyhow, I always guess +right on presidential elections and prize fights. You got to know men, in +my line of business. I study 'em. Hardly ever peg 'em wrong. Fellow said +to me one day, 'How's it come, Thomas, you most always call the turn?' I +give him an answer in one word--psycho-ology." + +The trailers scanned closely the edge of the irrigation ditch. Here, too, +they failed to get results. There were tracks enough close to the +lateral, but apparently none of them led down into the bed of it. The +outlaws no doubt had carefully obliterated their tracks at this place +in order to give no starting-point for the pursuit. + +"I'll go up on the left-hand side, you take the right, Dave," said +Crawford. "We've got to find where they left the ditch." + +The prospector took the sandy bed of the dry canal as his path. He chose +it for two reasons. There was less brush to obstruct his progress, and he +could reach the ears of both his auditors better as he burbled his +comments on affairs in general and the wisdom of Mr. Thomas in +particular. + +The ditch was climbing into the hills, zigzagging up draws in order to +find the most even grade. The three men traveled slowly, for Sanders and +Crawford had to read sign on every foot of the way. + +"Chances are they didn't leave the ditch till they heard the water +comin'," the cattleman said. "These fellows knew their business, and they +were playin' safe." + +Dave pulled up. He went down on his knees and studied the ground, then +jumped down into the ditch and examined the bank. + +"Here's where they got out," he announced. + +Thomas pressed forward. With one outstretched hand the young man held him +back. + +"Just a minute. I want Mr. Crawford to see this before it's touched." + +The old cattleman examined the side of the canal. The clay showed where a +sharp hoof had reached for a footing, missed, and pawed down the bank. +Higher up was the faint mark of a shoe on the loose rubble at the edge. + +"Looks like," he assented. + +Study of the ground above showed the trail of two horses striking off at +a right angle from the ditch toward the mouth of a box canon about a mile +distant. The horses were both larger than broncos. One of them was shod. +One of the front shoes, badly worn, was broken and part of it gone on the +left side. The riders were taking no pains apparently to hide their +course. No doubt they relied on the full ditch to blot out pursuit. + +The trail led through the canon, over a divide beyond, and down into a +small grassy valley. + +At the summit Crawford gave strict orders. "No talkin', Mr. Thomas. This +is serious business now. We're in enemy country and have got to soft-foot +it." + +The foothills were bristling with chaparral. Behind any scrub oak or +cedar, under cover of an aspen thicket or even of a clump of gray sage, +an enemy with murder in his heart might be lurking. Here an ambush was +much more likely than in the sun-scorched plain they had left. + +The three men left the footpath where it dipped down into the park and +followed the rim to the left, passing through a heavy growth of manzanita +to a bare hill dotted with scrubby sage, at the other side of which was +a small gulch of aspens straggling down into the valley. Back of these a +log cabin squatted on the slope. One had to be almost upon it before it +could be seen. Its back door looked down upon the entrance to a canon. +This was fenced across to make a corral. + +The cattleman and the cowpuncher looked at each other without verbal +comment. A message better not put into words flashed from one to the +other. This looked like the haunt of rustlers. Here they could pursue +their nefarious calling unmolested. Not once a year would anybody except +one of themselves enter this valley, and if a stranger did so he would +know better than to push his way into the canon. + +Horses were drowsing sleepily in the corral. Dave slid from the saddle +and spoke to Crawford in a low voice. + +"I'm going down to have a look at those horses," he said, unfastening his +rope from the tientos. + +The cattleman nodded. He drew from its case beneath his leg a rifle and +held it across the pommel. It was not necessary for Sanders to ask, nor +for him to promise, protection while the younger man was making his trip +of inspection. Both were men who knew the frontier code and each other. +At a time of action speech, beyond the curtest of monosyllables, was +surplusage. + +Dave walked and slid down the rubble of the steep hillside, clambered +down a rough face of rock, and dropped into the corral: He wore a +revolver, but he did not draw it. He did not want to give anybody in the +house an excuse to shoot at him without warning. + +His glance swept over the horses, searched the hoofs of each. It found +one shod, a rangy roan gelding. + +The cowpuncher's rope whined through the air and settled down upon the +shoulders of the animal. The gelding went sun-fishing as a formal protest +against the lariat, then surrendered tamely. Dave patted it gently, +stroked the neck, and spoke softly reassuring words. He picked up one of +the front feet and examined the shoe. This was badly worn, and on the +left side part of it had broken off. + +A man came to the back door of the cabin and stretched in a long and +luxuriant yawn. Carelessly and casually his eyes wandered over the aspens +and into the corral. For a moment he stood frozen, his arms still flung +wide. + +From the aspens came down Crawford's voice, cool and ironic. "Much +obliged, Shorty. Leave 'em right up and save trouble." + +The squat cowpuncher's eyes moved back to the aspens and found there the +owner of the D Bar Lazy R. "Wha'dya want?" he growled sullenly. + +"You--just now. Step right out from the house, Shorty. Tha's right. +Anybody else in the house?" + +"No." + +"You'll be luckier if you tell the truth." + +"I'm tellin' it." + +"Hope so. Dave, step forward and get his six-shooter. Keep him between +you and the house. If anything happens to you I'm goin' to kill him right +now." + +Shorty shivered, hardy villain though he was. There had been nobody in +the house when he left it, but he had been expecting some one shortly. If +his partner arrived and began shooting, he knew that Crawford would drop +him in his tracks. His throat went dry as a lime kiln. He wanted to shout +out to the man who might be inside not to shoot at any cost. But he was a +game and loyal ruffian. He would not spoil his confederate's chance by +betraying him. If he said nothing, the man might come, realize the +situation, and slip away unobserved. + +Sanders took the man's gun and ran his hand over his thick body to make +sure he had no concealed weapon. + +"I'm going to back away. You come after me, step by step, so close I +could touch you with the gun," ordered Dave. + +The man followed him as directed, his hands still in the air. His captor +kept him in a line between him and the house door. Crawford rode down to +join them. The man who claimed not to be foolhardy stayed up in the +timber. This was no business of his. He did not want to be the target +of any shots from the cabin. + +The cattleman swung down from the saddle. "Sure we'll 'light and come in, +Shorty. No, you first. I'm right at yore heels with this gun pokin' into +yore ribs. Don't make any mistake. You'd never have time to explain it." + +The cabin had only one room. The bunks were over at one side, the stove +and table at the other. Two six-pane windows flanked the front door. + +The room was empty, except for the three men now entering. + +"You live here, Shorty?" asked Crawford curtly. + +"Yes." The answer was sulky and reluctant. + +"Alone?" + +"Yes." + +"Why?" snapped the cattleman. + +Shorty's defiant eyes met his. "My business." + +"Mine, too, I'll bet a dollar. If you're nestin' in these hills you +cayn't have but one business." + +"Prove it! Prove it!" retorted Shorty angrily. + +"Some day--not now." Crawford turned to Sanders. "What about the horse +you looked at, Dave?" + +"Same one we've been trailing. The one with the broken shoe." + +"That yore horse, Shorty?" + +"Maybeso. Maybe not." + +"You've been havin' company here lately," Crawford went on. "Who's yore +guest?" + +"You seem to be right now. You and yore friend the convict," sneered the +short cowpuncher. + +"Don't use that word again, Shorty," advised the ranchman in a voice +gently ominous. + +"Why not? True, ain't it? Doesn't deny it none, does he?" + +"We'll not discuss that. Where were you yesterday?" + +"Here, part o' the day. Where was you?" demanded Shorty impudently. +"Seems to me I heard you was right busy." + +"What part of the day? Begin at the beginnin' and tell us what you did. +You may put yore hands down." + +"Why, I got up in the mo'nin' and put on my pants an' my boots," jeered +Shorty. "I don't recolleck whether I put on my hat or not. Maybe I did. I +cooked breakfast and et it. I chawed tobacco. I cooked dinner and et it. +Smoked and chawed some more. Cooked supper and et it. Went to bed." + +"That all?" + +"Why, no, I fed the critters and fixed up a busted stirrup." + +"Who was with you?" + +"I was plumb lonesome yesterday. This any business of yours, by the way, +Em?" + +"Think again, Shorty. Who was with you?" + +The heavy-set cowpuncher helped himself to a chew of tobacco. "I told you +onct I was alone. Ain't seen anybody but you for a week." + +"Then how did you hear yesterday was my busy day?" Crawford thrust at +him. + +For a moment Shorty was taken aback. Before he could answer Dave spoke. + +"Man coming up from the creek." + +Crawford took crisp command. "Back in that corner, Shorty. Dave, you +stand back, too. Cover him soon as he shows up." + +Dave nodded. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MILLER TALKS + + +A man stood in the doorway, big, fat, swaggering. In his younger days his +deep chest and broad shoulders had accompanied great strength. But fat +had accumulated in layers. He was a mountain of sagging flesh. His breath +came in wheezy puffs. + +"Next time you get your own--" + +The voice faltered, died away. The protuberant eyes, still cold and +fishy, passed fearfully from one to another of those in the room. It was +plain that the bottom had dropped out of his heart. One moment he had +straddled the world a Colossus, the next he was collapsing like a +punctured balloon. + +"Goddlemighty!" he gasped. "Don't shoot! I--I give up." + +He was carrying a bucket of water. It dropped from his nerveless fingers +and spilt over the floor. + +Like a bullet out of a gun Crawford shot a question at him. "Where have +you hidden the money you got from the stage?" + +The loose mouth of the convict opened. "Why, we--I--we--" + +"Keep yore trap shut, you durn fool," ordered Shorty. + +Crawford jabbed his rifle into the ribs of the rustler. "Yours, too, +Shorty." + +But the damage had been done. Miller's flabby will had been braced by +a stronger one. He had been given time to recover from his dismay. He +moistened his lips with his tongue and framed his lie. + +"I was gonna say you must be mistaken, Mr. Crawford," he whined. + +Shorty laughed hardily, spat tobacco juice at a knot in the floor, and +spoke again. "Third degree stuff, eh? It won't buy you a thing, Crawford. +Miller wasn't in that hold-up any more'n I--" + +"Let Miller do his own talkin', Shorty. He don't need any lead from you." + +Shorty looked hard at the cattleman with unflinching eyes. "Don't get on +the peck, Em. You got no business coverin' me with that gun. I know you +got reasons a-plenty for tryin' to bluff us into sayin' we held up the +stage. But we don't bluff worth a cent. See?" + +Crawford saw. He had failed to surprise a confession out of Miller by the +narrowest of margins. If he had had time to get Shorty out of the room +before the convict's appearance, the fellow would have come through. As +it was, he had missed his opportunity. + +A head followed by a round barrel body came in cautiously from the +lean-to at the rear. + +"Everything all right, Mr. Crawford? Thought I'd drap on down to see if +you didn't need any help." + +"None, thanks, Mr. Thomas," the cattleman answered dryly. + +"Well, you never can tell." The prospector nodded genially to Shorty, +then spoke again to the man with the rifle. "Found any clue to the +hold-up yet?" + +"We've found the men who did it," replied Crawford. + +"Knew 'em all the time, I reckon," scoffed Shorty with a harsh laugh. + +Dave drew his chief aside, still keeping a vigilant eye on the prisoners. +"We've got to play our hand different. Shorty is game. He can't be +bluffed. But Miller can. I found out years ago he squeals at physical +pain. We'll start for home. After a while we'll give Shorty a chance to +make a getaway. Then we'll turn the screws on Miller." + +"All right, Dave. You run it. I'll back yore play," his friend said. + +They disarmed Miller, made him saddle two of the horses in the corral, +and took the back trail across the valley to the divide. It was here they +gave Shorty his chance of escape. Miller was leading the way up the +trail, with Crawford, Thomas, Shorty, and Dave in the order named. Dave +rode forward to confer with the owner of the D Bar Lazy R. For three +seconds his back was turned to the squat cowpuncher. + +Shorty whirled his horse and flung it wildly down the precipitous slope. +Sanders galloped after him, fired his revolver three times, and after a +short chase gave up the pursuit. He rode back to the party on the summit. + +Crawford glanced around at the heavy chaparral. "How about off here a +bit, Dave?" + +The younger man agreed. He turned to Miller. "We're going to hang you," +he said quietly. + +The pasty color of the fat man ebbed till his face seemed entirely +bloodless. "My God! You wouldn't do that!" he moaned. + +He clung feebly to the horn of his saddle as Sanders led the horse into +the brush. He whimpered, snuffling an appeal for mercy repeated over and +over. The party had not left the road a hundred yards behind when a man +jogged past on his way into the valley. He did not see them, nor did they +see him. + +Underneath a rather scrubby cedar Dave drew up. He glanced it over +critically. "Think it'll do?" he asked Crawford in a voice the prisoner +could just hear. + +"Yep. That big limb'll hold him," the old cattleman answered in the same +low voice. "Better let him stay right on the horse, then we'll lead it +out from under him." + +Miller pleaded for his life abjectly. His blood had turned to water. +"Honest, I didn't shoot Harrigan. Why, I'm that tender-hearted I wouldn't +hurt a kitten. I--I--Oh, don't do that, for God's sake." + +Thomas was almost as white as the outlaw. "You don't aim to--you +wouldn't--" + +Crawford's face was as cold and as hard as steel. "Why not? He's a +murderer. He tried to gun Dave here when the boy didn't have a +six-shooter. We'll jes' get rid of him now." He threw a rope over the +convict's head and adjusted it to the folds of his fat throat. + +The man under condemnation could hardly speak. His throat was dry as the +desert dust below. "I--I done Mr. Sanders a meanness. I'm sorry. I was +drunk." + +"You lied about him and sent him to the penitentiary." + +"I'll fix that. Lemme go an' I'll make that right." + +"How will you make it right?" asked Crawford grimly, and the weight of +his arm drew the rope so tight that Miller winced. "Can you give him back +the years he's lost?" + +"No, sir, no," the man whispered eagerly. "But I can tell how it +was--that we fired first at him. Doble did that, an' then--accidental--I +killed Doble whilst I was shootin' at Mr. Sanders." + +Dave strode forward, his eyes like great live coals. "What? Say that +again!" he cried. + +"Yessir. I did it--accidental--when Doble run forward in front of me. +Tha's right. I'm plumb sorry I didn't tell the cou't so when you was on +trial, Mr. Sanders. I reckon I was scairt to." + +"Will you tell this of yore own free will to the sheriff down at Malapi?" +asked Crawford. + +"I sure will. Yessir, Mr. Crawford." The man's terror had swept away all +thought of anything but the present peril. His color was a seasick green. +His great body trembled like a jelly shaken from a mould. + +"It's too late now," cut in Dave savagely. "We came up about this stage +robbery. Unless he'll clear that up, I vote to finish the job." + +"Maybe we'd better," agreed the cattleman. "I'll tie the rope to the +trunk of the tree and you lead the horse from under him, Dave." + +Miller broke down. He groveled. "I'll tell. I'll tell all I know. Dug +Doble and Shorty held up the stage. I don' know who killed the driver. +They didn't say when they come back." + +"You let the water into the ditch," suggested Crawford. + +"Yessir. I did that. They was shelterin' me and o' course I had to do +like they said." + +"When did you escape?" + +"On the way back to the penitentiary. A fellow give the deputy sheriff +a drink on the train. It was doped. We had that fixed. The keys to the +handcuffs was in the deputy's pocket. When he went to sleep we unlocked +the cuffs and I got off at the next depot. Horses was waitin' there for +us." + +"Who do you mean by us? Who was with you?" + +"I don' know who he was. Fellow said Brad Steelman sent him to fix things +up for me." + +Thomas borrowed the field-glasses of Crawford. Presently he lowered them. +"Two fellows comin' hell-for-leather across the valley," he said in a +voice that expressed his fears. + +The cattleman took the glasses and looked. "Shorty's found a friend. Dug +Doble likely. They're carryin' rifles. We'll have trouble. They'll see we +stopped at the haid of the pass," he said quietly. + +Much shaken already, the oil prospector collapsed at the prospect before +him. He was a man of peace and always had been, in spite of the valiant +promise of his tongue. + +"None of my funeral," he said, his lips white. "I'm hittin' the trail for +Malapi right now." + +He wheeled his horse and jumped it to a gallop. The roan plunged through +the chaparral and soon was out of sight. + +"We'll fix Mr. Miller so he won't make us any trouble during the rookus," +Crawford told Dave. + +He threw the coiled rope over the heaviest branch of the cedar, drew it +tight, and fastened it to the trunk of the tree. + +"Now you'll stay hitched," he went on, speaking to their prisoner. "And +you'd better hold that horse mighty steady, because if he jumps from +under you it'll be good-bye for one scalawag." + +"If you'd let me down I'd do like you told me, Mr. Crawford," pleaded +Miller. "It's right uncomfortable here." + +"Keep still. Don't say a word. Yore friends are gettin' close. Let a +chirp outa you, and you'll never have time to be sorry," warned the +cattleman. + +The two men tied their horses behind some heavy mesquite and chose their +own cover. Here they crouched down and waited. + +They could hear the horses of the outlaws climbing the hill out of the +valley to the pass. Then, down in the canon, they caught a glimpse of +Thomas in wild flight. The bandits stopped at the divide. + +"They'll be headin' this way in a minute," Crawford whispered. + +His companion nodded agreement. + +They were wrong. There came the sound of a whoop, a sudden clatter of +hoofs, the diminishing beat of horses' feet. + +"They've seen Thomas, and they're after him on the jump," suggested Dave. + +His friend's eyes crinkled to a smile. "Sure enough. They figure he's the +tail end of our party. Well, I'll bet Thomas gives 'em a good run for +their money. He's right careless sometimes, but he's no foolhardy idiot +and he don't aim to argue with birds like these even though he's a +rip-snorter when he gets goin' good and won't stand any devilin'." + +"He'll talk them to death if they catch him," Dave answered. + +"Back to business. What's our next move, son?" + +"Some more conversation with Miller. Probably he can tell us where the +gold is hidden." + +"Whoopee! I'll bet he can. You do the talkin'. I've a notion he's more +scared of you." + +The fat convict tried to make a stand against them. He pleaded ignorance. +"I don' know where they hid the stuff. They didn't tell me." + +"Sounds reasonable, and you in with them on the deal," said Sanders. +"Well, you're in hard luck. We don't give two hoots for you, anyhow, but +we decided to take you in to town with us if you came through clean. +If not--" He shrugged his shoulders and glanced up at the branch above. + +Miller swallowed a lump in his throat. "You wouldn't treat me thataway, +Mr. Sanders. I'm gittin' to be an old man now. I done wrong, but I'm sure +right sorry," he whimpered. + +The eyes of the man who had spent years in prison at Canon City were hard +as jade. The fat man read a day of judgment in his stern and somber face. + +"I'll tell!" The crook broke down, clammy beads of perspiration all over +his pallid face. "I'll tell you right where it's at. In the lean-to of +the shack. Southwest corner. Buried in a gunnysack." + +They rode back across the valley to the cabin. Miller pointed out the +spot where the stolen treasure was cached. With an old axe as a spade +Dave dug away the dirt till he came to a bit of sacking. Crawford scooped +out the loose earth with his gauntlet and dragged out a gunnysack. Inside +it were a number of canvas bags showing the broken wax seals of the +express company. These contained gold pieces apparently fresh from the +mint. + +A hurried sum in arithmetic showed that approximately all the gold taken +from the stage must be here. Dave packed it on the back of his saddle +while Crawford penciled a note to leave in the cache in place of the +money. + +The note said: + +This is no safe place to leave seventeen thousand dollars, Dug. I'm +taking it to town to put in the bank. If you want to make inquiries about +it, come in and we'll talk it over, you and me _and Applegate_. + +EMERSON CRAWFORD + +Five minutes later the three men were once more riding rapidly across the +valley toward the summit of the divide. The loop of Crawford's lariat +still encircled the gross neck of the convict. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +DAVE ACCEPTS AN INVITATION + + +Crawford and Dave, with their prisoner, lay out in the chaparral for an +hour, then made their way back to Malapi by a wide circuit. They did not +want to meet Shorty and Doble, for that would result in a pitched battle. +They preferred rather to make a report to the sheriff and let him attempt +the arrest of the bandits. + +Reluctantly, under the pressure of much prodding, Miller repeated his +story to Sheriff Applegate. Under the circumstances he was not sorry that +he was to be returned to the penitentiary, for he recognized that his +life at large would not be safe so long as Shorty and Doble were ranging +the hills. Both of them were "bad men," in the usual Western acceptance +of the term, and an accomplice who betrayed them would meet short shrift +at their hands. + +The sheriff gave Crawford a receipt for the gold after they had counted +it and found none missing. + +The old cattleman rose from the table and reached for his hat. + +"Come on, son," he said to Dave. "I'll say we've done a good day's work. +Both of us were under a cloud. Now we're clear. We're goin' up to the +house to have some supper. Applegate, you'll get both of the confessions +of Miller fixed up, won't you? I'll want the one about George Doble's +death to take with me to the Governor of Colorado. I'm takin' the train +to-morrow." + +"I'll have the district attorney fix up the papers," the sheriff +promised. + +Emerson Crawford hooked an arm under the elbow of Sanders and left the +office. + +"I'm wonderin' about one thing, boy," he said. "Did Miller kill George +Doble accidentally or on purpose?" + +"I'm wondering about that myself. You remember that Denver bartender said +they had been quarreling a good deal. They were having a row at the very +time when I met them at the gate of the corral. It's a ten-to-one shot +that Miller took the chance to plug Doble and make me pay for it." + +"Looks likely, but we'll never know. Son, you've had a rotten deal handed +you." + +The younger man's eyes were hard as steel. He clamped his jaw tight, but +he made no comment. + +"Nobody can give you back the years of yore life you've lost," the +cattleman went on. "But we'll get yore record straightened out, anyhow, +so that won't stand against you. I know one li'l' girl will be tickled to +hear the news. Joy always has stuck out that you were treated shameful." + +"I reckon I'll not go up to your house to-night," Dave said in a +carefully modulated voice. "I'm dirty and unshaven, and anyhow I'd rather +not go to-night." + +Crawford refused to accept this excuse. "No, sir. You're comin' with me, +by gum! I got soap and water and a razor up at the house, if that's +what's troublin' you. We've had a big day and I'm goin' to celebrate by +talkin' it all over again. Dad gum my hide, think of it, you solemn-faced +old owl! This time last night I was 'most a pauper and you sure were. +Both of us were under the charge of havin' killed a man each. To-night +we're rich as that fellow Crocus; anyhow I am, an' you're haided that +way. And both of us have cleared our names to boot. Ain't you got any red +blood in that big body of yore's?" + +"I'll drop in to the Delmonico and get a bite, then ride out to the +Jackpot." + +"You will not!" protested the cattleman. "Looky here, Dave. It's a +showdown. Have you got anything against me?" + +Dave met him eye to eye. "Not a thing, Mr. Crawford. No man ever had a +better friend." + +"Anything against Joyce?" + +"No, sir." + +"Don't hate my boy Keith, do you?" + +"How could I?" + +"Then what in hell ails you? You're not parlor-shy, are you? Say the +word, and we'll eat in the kitchen," grinned Crawford. + +"I'm not a society man," said Sanders lamely. + +He could not explain that the shadow of the prison walls was a barrier he +could not cross; that they rose to bar him from all the joy and happiness +of young life. + +"Who in Mexico's talkin' about society? I said come up and eat supper +with me and Joy and Keith. If you don't come, I'm goin' to be good and +sore. I'll not stand for it, you darned old killjoy." + +"I'll go," answered the invited man. + +He went, not because he wanted to go, but because he could not escape +without being an ungracious boor. + +Joyce flew to meet her father, eyes eager, hands swift to caress his +rough face and wrinkled coat. She bubbled with joy at his return, and +when he told her that his news was of the best the long lashes of the +brown eyes misted with tears. The young man in the background was struck +anew by the matronly tenderness of her relation to her father. She +hovered about him as a mother does about her son returned from the wars. + +"I've brought company for supper, honey," Emerson told her. + +She gave Dave her hand, flushed and smiling. "I've been so worried," she +explained. "It's fine to know the news is good. I'll want to hear it +all." + +"We've got the stolen money back, Joy," exploded her father. "We know who +took it--Dug Doble and that cowboy Shorty and Miller." + +"But I thought Miller--" + +"He escaped. We caught him and brought him back to town with us." +Crawford seized the girl by the shoulders. He was as keen as a boy to +share his pleasure. "And Joy--better news yet. Miller confessed he +killed George Doble. Dave didn't do it at all." + +Joyce came to the young man impulsively, hand outstretched. She was +glowing with delight, eyes kind and warm and glad. "That's the best yet. +Oh, Mr. Sanders, isn't it good?" + +His impassive face gave no betrayal of any happiness he might feel in his +vindication. Indeed, something almost sardonic in its expression chilled +her enthusiasm. More than the passing of years separated them from the +days when he had shyly but gayly wiped dishes for her in the kitchen, +when he had worshiped her with a boy's uncritical adoration. + +Sanders knew it better than she, and cursed the habit of repression that +had become a part of him in his prison days. He wanted to give her happy +smile for smile. But he could not do it. All that was young and ardent +and eager in him was dead. He could not let himself go. Even when +emotions flooded his heart, no evidence of it reached his chill eyes and +set face. + +After he had come back from shaving, he watched her flit about the room +while she set the table. She was the competent young mistress of the +house. With grave young authority she moved, slenderly graceful. He +knew her mind was with the cook in the kitchen, but she found time to +order Keith crisply to wash his face and hands, time to gather flowers +for the center of the table from the front yard and to keep up a running +fire of talk with him and her father. More of the woman than in the days +when he had known her, perhaps less of the carefree maiden, she was +essentially unchanged, was what he might confidently have expected her to +be. Emerson Crawford was the same bluff, hearty Westerner, a friend to +tie to in sunshine and in storm. Even little Keith, just escaping from +his baby ways, had the same tricks and mannerisms. Nothing was different +except himself. He had become arid and hard and bitter, he told himself +regretfully. + +Keith was his slave, a faithful admirer whose eyes fed upon his hero +steadily. He had heard the story of this young man's deeds discussed +until Dave had come to take on almost mythical proportions. + +He asked a question in an awed voice. "How did you get this Miller to +confess?" + +The guest exchanged a glance with the host. "We had a talk with him." + +"Did you--?" + +"Oh, no! We just asked him if he didn't want to tell us all about it, and +it seems he did." + +"Maybe you touched his better feelin's," suggested Keith, with memories +of an hour in Sunday School when his teacher had made a vain appeal to +his. + +His father laughed. "Maybe we did. I noticed he was near blubberin'. I +expect it's 'Adios, Senor Miller.' He's got two years more to serve, and +after that he'll have another nice long term to serve for robbin' the +stage. All I wish is we'd done the job more thorough and sent some +friends of his along with him. Well, that's up to Applegate." + +"I'm glad it is," said Joyce emphatically. + +"Any news to-day from Jackpot Number Three?" asked the president of that +company. + +"Bob Hart sent in to get some supplies and had a note left for me at the +post-office," Miss Joyce mentioned, a trifle annoyed at herself because a +blush insisted on flowing into her cheeks. "He says it's the biggest +thing he ever saw, but it's going to be awf'ly hard to control. Where +_is_ that note? I must have put it somewhere." + +Emerson's eyes flickered mischief. "Oh, well, never mind about the note. +That's private property, I reckon." + +"I'm sure if I can find it--" + +"I'll bet my boots you cayn't, though," he teased. + +"Dad! What will Mr. Sanders think? You know that's nonsense. Bob wrote +because I asked him to let me know." + +"Sure. Why wouldn't the secretary and field superintendent of the Jackpot +Company keep the daughter of the president informed? I'll have it read +into the minutes of our next board meetin' that it's in his duties to +keep you posted." + +"Oh, well, if you want to talk foolishness," she pouted. + +"There's somethin' else I'm goin' to have put into the minutes of the +next meetin', Dave," Crawford went on. "And that's yore election as +treasurer of the company. I want officers around me that I can trust, +son." + +"I don't know anything about finance or about bookkeeping," Dave said. + +"You'll learn. We'll have a bookkeeper, of course. I want some one for +treasurer that's level-haided and knows how to make a quick turn when he +has to, some one that uses the gray stuff in his cocoanut. We'll fix a +salary when we get goin'. You and Bob are goin' to have the active +management of this concern. Cattle's my line, an' I aim to stick to it. +Him and you can talk it over and fix yore duties so's they won't +conflict. Burns, of course, will run the actual drillin'. He's an A1 +man. Don't let him go." + +Dave was profoundly touched. No man could be kinder to his own son, could +show more confidence in him, than Emerson Crawford was to one who had no +claims upon him. + +He murmured a dry "Thank you"; then, feeling this to be inadequate, +added, "I'll try to see you don't regret this." + +The cattleman was a shrewd judge of men. His action now was not based +solely upon humanitarian motives. Here was a keen man, quick-witted, +steady, and wholly to be trusted, one certain to push himself to the +front. It was good business to make it worth his while to stick to +Crawford's enterprises. He said as much to Dave bluntly. + +"And you ain't in for any easy time either," he added. "We've got oil. +We're flooded with it, so I hear. Seve-re-al thousand dollars' worth a +day is runnin' off and seepin' into the desert. Bob Hart and Jed Burns +have got the job of puttin' the lid on the pot, but when they do that +you've got a bigger job. Looks bigger to me, anyhow. You've got to get +rid of that oil--find a market for it, sell it, ship it away to make room +for more. Get busy, son." Crawford waved his hand after the manner of one +who has shifted a responsibility and does not expect to worry about it. +"Moreover an' likewise, we're shy of money to keep operatin' until we can +sell the stuff. You'll have to raise scads of mazuma, son. In this oil +game dollars sure have got wings. No matter how tight yore pockets are +buttoned, they fly right out." + +"I doubt whether you've chosen the right man," the ex-cowpuncher said, +smiling faintly. "The most I ever borrowed in my life was twenty-five +dollars." + +"You borrow twenty-five thousand the same way, only it's easier if the +luck's breakin' right," the cattleman assured him cheerfully. "The +easiest thing in the world to get hold of is money--when you've already +got lots of it." + +"The trouble is we haven't." + +"Well, you'll have to learn to look like you knew where it grew on +bushes," Emerson told him, grinning. + +"I can see you've chosen me for a nice lazy job." + +"Anything but that, son. You don't want to make any mistake about this +thing. Brad Steelman's goin' to fight like a son-of-a-gun. He'll strike +at our credit and at our market and at our means of transportation. He'll +fight twenty-four hours of the day, and he's the slickest, crookedest +gray wolf that ever skulked over the range." + +The foreman of the D Bar Lazy R came in after supper for a conference +with his boss. He and Crawford got their heads together in the +sitting-room and the young people gravitated out to the porch. Joyce +pressed Dave into service to help her water the roses, and Keith hung +around in order to be near Dave. Occasionally he asked questions +irrelevant to the conversation. These were embarrassing or not as it +happened. + +Joyce delivered a little lecture on the culture of roses, not because she +considered herself an authority, but because her guest's conversation was +mostly of the monosyllabic order. He was not awkward or self-conscious; +rather a man given to silence. + +"Say, Mr. Sanders, how does it feel to be wounded?" Keith blurted out. + +"You mustn't ask personal questions, Keith," his sister told him. + +"Oh! Well, I already ast this one?" the boy suggested ingenuously. + +"Don't know, Keith," answered the young man. "I never was really wounded. +If you mean this scratch in the shoulder, I hardly felt it at all till +afterward." + +"Golly! I'll bet I wouldn't tackle a feller shootin' at me the way that +Miller was at you," the youngster commented in naive admiration. + +"Bedtime for li'l boys, Keith," his sister reminded him. + +"Oh, lemme stay up a while longer," he begged. + +Joyce was firm. She had schooled her impulses to resist the little +fellow's blandishments, but Dave noticed that she was affectionate even +in her refusal. + +"I'll come up and say good-night after a while, Keithie," she promised as +she kissed him. + +To the gaunt-faced man watching them she was the symbol of all most to be +desired in woman. She embodied youth, health, charm. She was life's +springtime, its promise of fulfillment; yet already an immaculate Madonna +in the beauty of her generous soul. He was young enough in his knowledge +of her sex to be unaware that nature often gives soft trout-pool eyes of +tenderness to coquettes and wonderful hair with the lights and shadows of +an autumn-painted valley to giggling fools. Joyce was neither coquette +nor fool. She was essential woman in the making, with all the faults and +fine brave impulses of her years. Unconsciously, perhaps, she was showing +her best side to her guest, as maidens have done to men since Eve first +smiled on Adam. + +Dave had closed his heart to love. It was to have no room in his life. To +his morbid sensibilities the shadow of the prison walls still stretched +between him and Joyce. It did not matter that he was innocent, that all +his small world would soon know of his vindication. The fact stood. For +years he had been shut away from men, a leprous thing labeled "Unclean!" +He had dwelt in a place of furtive whisperings, of sinister sounds. His +nostrils had inhaled the odor of musty clothes and steamed food. His +fingers had touched moisture sweating through the walls, and in his small +dark cell he had hunted graybacks. The hopeless squalor of it at times +had driven him almost mad. As he saw it now, his guilt was of minor +importance. If he had not fired the shot that killed George Doble, that +was merely a chance detail. What counted against him was that his soul +was marked with the taint of the criminal through association and habit +of thought. He could reason with this feeling and temporarily destroy it. +He could drag it into the light and laugh it away. But subconsciously it +persisted as a horror from which he could not escape. A man cannot touch +pitch, even against his own will, and not be defiled. + +"You're Keith's hero, you know," the girl told Dave, her face bubbling +to unexpected mirth. "He tries to walk and talk like you. He asks the +queerest questions. To-day I caught him diving at a pillow on the bed. +He was making-believe to be you when you were shot." + +Her nearness in the soft, shadowy night shook his self-control. The music +of her voice with its drawling intonations played on his heartstrings. + +"Think I'll go now," he said abruptly. + +"You must come again," she told him. "Keith wants you to teach him how to +rope. You won't mind, will you?" + +The long lashes lifted innocently from the soft deep eyes, which rested +in his for a moment and set clamoring a disturbance in his blood. + +"I'll be right busy," he said awkwardly, bluntly. + +She drew back within herself. "I'd forgotten how busy you are, Mr. +Sanders. Of course we mustn't impose on you," she said, cold and stiff as +only offended youth can be. + +Striding into the night, Dave cursed the fate that had made him what he +was. He had hurt her boorishly by his curt refusal of her friendship. Yet +the heart inside him was a wild river of love. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +AT THE JACKPOT + + +The day lasted twenty-four hours in Malapi. As Sanders walked along +Junipero Street, on his way to the downtown corral from Crawford's house, +saloons and gambling-houses advertised their attractions candidly and +noisily. They seemed bursting with raw and vehement life. The strains of +fiddles and the sound of shuffling feet were pierced occasionally by the +whoop of a drunken reveler. Once there rang out the high notes of a +woman's hysterical laughter. Cowponies and packed burros drooped +listlessly at the hitching-rack. Even loaded wagons were waiting to take +the road as soon as the drivers could tear themselves away from the +attractions of keno and a last drink. + +Junipero Street was not the usual crooked lane that serves as the main +thoroughfare for business in a mining town. For Malapi had been a cowtown +before the discovery of oil. It lay on the wide prairie and not in a +gulch. The street was broad and dusty, flanked by false-front stores, +flat-roofed adobes, and corrugated iron buildings imported hastily since +the first boom. + +At the Stag Horn corral Dave hired a horse and saddled for a night ride. +On his way to the Jackpot he passed a dozen outfits headed for the new +strike. They were hauling supplies of food, tools, timbers, and machinery +to the oil camp. Out of the night a mule skinner shouted a profane and +drunken greeting to him. A Mexican with a burro train gave him a +low-voiced "Buenos noches, senor." + +A fine mist of oil began to spray him when he was still a mile away from +the well. It grew denser as he came nearer. He found Bob Hart, in +oilskins and rubber boots, bossing a gang of scrapers, giving directions +to a second one building a dam across a draw, and supervising a third +group engaged in siphoning crude oil from one sump to another. From head +to foot Hart and his assistants were wet to the skin with the black crude +oil. + +"'Lo, Dave! One sure-enough little spouter!" Bob shouted cheerfully. +"Number Three's sure a-hittin' her up. She's no cougher--stays right +steady on the job. Bet I've wallowed in a million barrels of the stuff +since mo'nin'." He waded through a viscid pool to Dave and asked a +question in a low voice. "What's the good word?" + +"We had a little luck," admitted Sanders, then plumped out his budget of +news. "Got the express money back, captured one of the robbers, forced a +confession out of him, and left him with the sheriff." + +Bob did an Indian war dance in hip boots. "You're the darndest go-getter +ever I did see. Tell it to me, you ornery ol' scalawag." + +His friend told the story of the day so far as it related to the robbery. + +"I could 'a' told you Miller would weaken when you had the rope round his +soft neck. Shorty would 'a' gone through and told you-all where to get +off at." + +"Yes. Miller's yellow. He didn't quit with the robbery, Bob. Must have +been scared bad, I reckon. He admitted that he killed George Doble--by +accident, he claimed. Says Doble ran in front of him while he was +shooting at me." + +"Have you got that down on paper?" demanded Hart. + +"Yes." + +Bob caught his friend's hand. "I reckon the long lane has turned for you, +old socks. I can't tell you how damn glad I am. Doble needed killin', but +I'd rather you hadn't done it." + +The other man made no comment on this phase of the situation. "This +brings Dug Doble out into the open at last. He'll come pretty near going +to the pen for this." + +"I can't see Applegate arrestin' him. He'll fight, Dug will. My notion is +he'll take to the hills and throw off all pretense. If he does he'll be +the worst killer ever was known in this part of the country. You an' +Crawford want to look out for him, Dave." + +"Crawford says he wants me to be treasurer of the company, Bob. You and I +are to manage it, he says, with Burns doing the drilling." + +"Tha's great. He told me he was gonna ask you. Betcha we make the ol' +Jackpot hum." + +"D' you ever hear of a man land poor, Bob?" + +"Sure have." + +"Well, right now we're oil poor. According to what the old man says +there's no cash in the treasury and we've got bills that have to be paid. +You know that ten thousand he paid in to the bank to satisfy the note. He +borrowed it from a friend who took it out of a trust fund to loan it to +him. He didn't tell me who the man is, but he said his friend would get +into trouble a-plenty if it's found out before he replaces the money. +Then we've got to keep our labor bills paid right up. Some of the other +accounts can wait." + +"Can't we borrow money on this gusher?" + +"We'll have to do that. Trouble is that oil isn't a marketable asset +until it reaches a refinery. We can sell stock, of course, but we don't +want to do much of that unless we're forced to it. Our play is to keep +control and not let any other interest in to oust us. It's going to take +some scratching." + +"Looks like," agreed Bob. "Any use tryin' the bank here?" + +"I'll try it, but we'll not accept any call loan. They say Steelman owns +the bank. He won't let us have money unless there's some nigger in the +woodpile. I'll probably have to try Denver." + +"That'll take time." + +"Yes. And time's one thing we haven't got any too much of. Whoever +underwrites this for us will send an expert back with me and will wait +for his report before making a loan. We'll have to talk it over with +Crawford and find out how much treasury stock we'll have to sell locally +to keep the business going till I make a raise." + +"You and the old man decide that, Dave. I can't get away from here till +we get Number Three roped and muzzled. I'll vote for whatever you two +say." + +An hour later Dave rode back to town. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +DAVE MEETS A FINANCIER + + +On more careful consideration Crawford and Sanders decided against trying +to float the Jackpot with local money except by the sale of enough stock +to keep going until the company's affairs could be put on a substantial +basis. To apply to the Malapi bank for a loan would be to expose their +financial condition to Steelman, and it was certain that he would permit +no accommodation except upon terms that would make it possible to wreck +the company. + +"I'm takin' the train for Denver to-morrow, Dave," the older man said. +"You stay here for two-three days and sell enough stock to keep us off +the rocks, then you hot-foot it for Denver too. By the time you get there +I'll have it all fixed up with the Governor about a pardon." + +Dave found no difficulty in disposing of a limited amount of stock in +Malapi at a good price. This done, he took the stage for the junction and +followed Crawford to Denver. An unobtrusive little man with large white +teeth showing stood in line behind him at the ticket window. His +destination also, it appeared, was the Colorado capital. + +If Dave had been a believer in fairy tales he might have thought himself +the hero of one. A few days earlier he had come to Malapi on this same +train, in a day coach, poorly dressed, with no job and no prospects in +life. He had been poor, discredited, a convict on parole. Now he wore +good clothes, traveled in a Pullman, ate in the diner, was a man of +consequence, and, at least on paper, was on the road to wealth. He would +put up at the Albany instead of a cheap rooming-house, and he would meet +on legitimate business some of the big financial men of the West. The +thing was hardly thinkable, yet a turn of the wheel of fortune had done +it for him in an hour. + +The position in which Sanders found himself was possible only because +Crawford was himself a financial babe in the woods. He had borrowed large +sums of money often, but always from men who trusted him and held his +word as better security than collateral. The cattleman was of the +outdoors type to whom the letter of the law means little. A debt was a +debt, and a piece of paper with his name on it did not make payment any +more obligatory. If he had known more about capital and its methods of +finding an outlet, he would never have sent so unsophisticated a man as +Dave Sanders on such a mission. + +For Dave, too, was a child in the business world. He knew nothing of +the inside deals by which industrial enterprises are underwritten and +corporations managed. It was, he supposed, sufficient for his purpose +that the company for which he wanted backing was sure to pay large +dividends when properly put on its feet. + +But Dave had assets of value even for such a task. He had a single-track +mind. He was determined even to obstinacy. He thought straight, and so +directly that he could walk through subtleties without knowing they +existed. + +When he reached Denver he discovered that Crawford had followed the +Governor to the western part of the State, where that official had gone +to open a sectional fair. Sanders had no credentials except a letter of +introduction to the manager of the stockyards. + +"What can I do for you?" asked that gentleman. He was quite willing to +exert himself moderately as a favor to Emerson Crawford, vice-president +of the American Live Stock Association. + +"I want to meet Horace Graham." + +"I can give you a note of introduction to him. You'll probably have to +get an appointment with him through his secretary. He's a tremendously +busy man." + +Dave's talk with the great man's secretary over the telephone was not +satisfactory. Mr. Graham, he learned, had every moment full for the next +two days, after which he would leave for a business trip to the East. + +There were other wealthy men in Denver who might be induced to finance +the Jackpot, but Dave intended to see Graham first. The big railroad +builder was a fighter. He was hammering through, in spite of heavy +opposition from trans-continental lines, a short cut across the Rocky +Mountains from Denver. He was a pioneer, one who would take a chance +on a good thing in the plunging, Western way. In his rugged, clean-cut +character was much that appealed to the managers of the Jackpot. + +Sanders called at the financier's office and sent in his card by the +youthful Cerberus who kept watch at the gate. The card got no farther +than the great man's private secretary. + +After a wait of more than an hour Dave made overtures to the boy. A +dollar passed from him to the youth and established a friendly relation. + +"What's the best way to reach Mr. Graham, son? I've got important +business that won't wait." + +"Dunno. He's awful busy. You ain't got no appointment." + +"Can you get a note to him? I've got a five-dollar bill for you if you +can." + +"I'll take a whirl at it. Jus' 'fore he goes to lunch." + +Dave penciled a line on a card. + +If you are not too busy to make $100,000 to-day you had better see me. + +He signed his name. + +Ten minutes later the office boy caught Graham as he rose to leave for +lunch. The big man read the note. + +"What kind of looking fellow is he?" he asked the boy. + +"Kinda solemn-lookin' guy, sir." The boy remembered the dollar received +on account and the five dollars on the horizon. "Big, straight-standin', +honest fellow. From Arizona or Texas, mebbe. Looked good to me." + +The financier frowned down at the note in doubt, twisting it in his +fingers. A dozen times a week his privacy was assailed by some crazy +inventor or crook promoter. He remembered that he had had a letter from +some one about this man. Something of strength in the chirography of the +note in his hand and something of simple directness in the wording +decided him to give an interview. + +"Show him in," he said abruptly, and while he waited in the office rated +himself for his folly in wasting time. + +Underneath bushy brows steel-gray eyes took Dave in shrewdly. + +"Well, what is it?" snapped the millionaire. + +"The new gusher in the Malapi pool," answered Sanders at once, and his +gaze was as steady as that of the big state-builder. + +"You represent the parties that own it?" + +"Yes." + +"And you want?" + +"Financial backing to put it on its feet until we can market the +product." + +"Why don't you work through your local bank?" + +"Another oil man, an enemy of our company, controls the Malapi bank." + +Graham fired question after question at him, crisply, abruptly, and +Sanders gave him back straight, short answers. + +"Sit down," ordered the railroad builder, resuming his own seat. "Tell me +the whole story of the company." + +Dave told it, and in the telling he found it necessary to sketch the +Crawford-Steelman feud. He brought himself into the narrative as little +as possible, but the grizzled millionaire drew enough from him to set +Graham's eye to sparkling. + +"Come back to-morrow at noon," decided the great man. "I'll let you know +my decision then." + +The young man knew he was dismissed, but he left the office elated. +Graham had been favorably impressed. He liked the proposition, believed +in its legitimacy and its possibilities. Dave felt sure he would send an +expert to Malapi with him to report on it as an investment. If so, he +would almost certainly agree to put money in it. + +A man with prominent white front teeth had followed Dave to the office of +Horace Graham, had seen him enter, and later had seen him come out with a +look on his face that told of victory. The man tried to get admittance to +the financier and failed. He went back to his hotel and wrote a short +letter which he signed with a fictitious name. This he sent by special +delivery to Graham. The letter was brief and to the point. It said: + +Don't do business with David Sanders without investigating his record. He +is a horsethief and a convicted murderer. Some months ago he was paroled +from the penitentiary at Canon City and since then has been in several +shooting scrapes. He was accused of robbing a stage and murdering the +driver less than a week ago. + +Graham read the letter and called in his private secretary. "McMurray, +get Canon City on the 'phone and find out if a man called David Sanders +was released from the penitentiary there lately. If so, what was he +in for? Describe the man to the warden: under twenty-five, tall, straight +as an Indian, strongly built, looks at you level and steady, brown hair, +steel-blue eyes. Do it now." + +Before he left the office that afternoon Graham had before him a +typewritten memorandum from his secretary covering the case of David +Sanders. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THREE IN CONSULTATION + + +The grizzled railroad builder fixed Sanders with an eye that had read +into the soul of many a shirker and many a dishonest schemer. + +"How long have you been with the Jackpot Company?" + +"Not long. Only a few days." + +"How much stock do you own?" + +"Ten thousand shares." + +"How did you get it?" + +"It was voted me by the directors for saving Jackpot Number Three from an +attack of Steelman's men." + +Graham's gaze bored into the eyes of his caller. He waited just a moment +to give his question full emphasis. "Mr. Sanders, what were you doing six +months ago?" + +"I was serving time in the penitentiary," came the immediate quiet +retort. + +"What for?" + +"For manslaughter." + +"You didn't tell me this yesterday." + +"No. It has no bearing on the value of the proposition I submitted to +you, and I thought it might prejudice you against it." + +"Have you been in any trouble since you left prison?" + +Dave hesitated. The blazer of railroad trails rapped out a sharp, +explanatory question. "Any shooting scrapes?" + +"A man shot at me in Malapi. I was unarmed." + +"That all?" + +"Another man fired at me out at the Jackpot. I was unarmed then." + +"Were you accused of holding up a stage, robbing it, and killing the +driver?" + +"No. I was twenty miles away at the time of the hold-up and had evidence +to prove it." + +"Then you were mentioned in connection with the robbery?" + +"If so, only by my enemies. One of the robbers was captured and made a +full confession. He showed where the stolen gold was cached and it was +recovered." + +The great man looked with chilly eyes at the young fellow standing in +front of him. He had a sense of having been tricked and imposed upon. + +"I have decided not to accept your proposition to cooperate with you in +financing the Jackpot Company, Mr. Sanders." Horace Graham pressed an +electric button and a clerk appeared. "Show this gentleman out, Hervey." + +But Sanders stood his ground. Nobody could have guessed from his stolid +imperturbability how much he was depressed at this unexpected failure. + +"Do I understand that you are declining this loan because I am connected +with it, Mr. Graham?" + +"I do not give a reason, sir. The loan does not appeal to me," the +railroad builder said with chill finality. + +"It appealed to you yesterday," persisted Dave. + +"But not to-day. Hervey, I will see Mr. Gates at once. Tell McMurray so." + +Reluctantly Dave followed the clerk out of the room. He had been +checkmated, but he did not know how. In some way Steelman had got to the +financier with this story that had damned the project. The new treasurer +of the Jackpot Company was much distressed. If his connection with the +company was going to have this effect, he must resign at once. + +He walked back to the hotel, and in the corridor of the Albany met a big +bluff cattleman the memory of whose kindness leaped across the years to +warm his heart. + +"You don't remember me, Mr. West?" + +The owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter Circle looked at the young man and +gave a little whoop. "Damn my skin, if it ain't the boy who bluffed a +whole railroad system into lettin' him reload stock for me!" He hooked an +arm under Dave's and led him straight to the bar. "Where you been? What +you doin'? Why n't you come to me soon as you ... got out of a job? +What'll you have, boy?" + +Dave named ginger ale. They lifted glasses. + +"How?" + +"How?" + +"Now you tell me all about it," said West presently, leading the way to a +lounge seat in the mezzanine gallery. + +Sanders answered at first in monosyllables, but presently he found +himself telling the story of his failure to enlist Horace Graham in the +Jackpot property as a backer. + +The cattleman began to rumple his hair, just as he had done years ago in +moments of excitement. + +"Wish I'd known, boy. I've been acquainted with Horace Graham ever since +he ran a hardware store on Larimer Street, and that's 'most thirty years +ago. I'd 'a' gone with you to see him. Maybe I can see him now." + +"You can't change the facts, Mr. West. When he knew I was a convict he +threw the whole thing overboard." + +The voice of a page in the lobby rose in sing-song. "Mister Sa-a-anders. +Mis-ter Sa-a-a-anders." + +Dave stepped to the railing and called down. "I'm Mr. Sanders. Who wants +me?" + +A man near the desk waved a paper and shouted: "Hello, Dave! News for +you, son. I'll come up." The speaker was Crawford. + +He shook hands with Dave and with West while he ejaculated his news in +jets. "I got it, son. Got it right here. Came back with the Governor this +mo'nin'. Called together Pardon Board. Here 't is. Clean bill of health, +son. Resolutions of regret for miscarriage of justice. Big story front +page's afternoon's papers." + +Dave smiled sardonically. "You're just a few hours late, Mr. Crawford. +Graham turned us down cold this morning because I'm a penitentiary bird." + +"He did?" Crawford began to boil inside. "Well, he can go right plumb to +Yuma. Anybody so small as that--" + +"Hold yore hawsses, Em," said West, smiling. + +"Graham didn't know the facts. If you was a capitalist an' thinkin' of +loanin' big money to a man you found out had been in prison for +manslaughter and that he had since been accused of robbin' a stage an' +killing the driver--" + +"He was in a hurry," explained Dave. "Going East to-morrow. Some one must +have got at him after I saw him. He'd made up his mind when I went back +to-day." + +"Well, Horace Graham ain't one of those who won't change his views for +heaven, hell, and high water. All we've got to do is to get to him and +make him see the light," said West. + +"When are we going to do all that?" asked Sanders. "He's busy every +minute of the time till he starts. He won't give us an appointment." + +"He'll see me. We're old friends," predicted West confidently. + +Crestfallen, he met the two officers of the Jackpot Company three hours +later. "Couldn't get to him. Sent word out he was sorry, an' how was Mrs. +West an' the children, but he was in conference an' couldn't break away." + +Dave nodded. He had expected this and prepared for it. "I've found out +he's going on the eight o'clock flyer. You going to be busy to-morrow, +Mr. West?" + +"No. I got business at the stockyards, but I can put it off." + +"Then I'll get tickets for Omaha on the flyer. Graham will take his +private car. We'll break in and put this up to him. He was friendly to +our proposition before he got the wrong slant on it. If he's open-minded, +as Mr. West says he is--" + +Crawford slapped an open hand on his thigh. "Say, you get the _best_ +ideas, son. We'll do just that." + +"I'll check up and make sure Graham's going on the flyer," said the young +man. "If we fall down we'll lose only a day. Come back when we meet the +night train. I reckon we won't have to get tickets clear through to +Omaha." + +"Fine and dandy," agreed West. "We'll sure see Graham if we have to bust +the door of his car." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +ON THE FLYER + + +West, his friends not in evidence, artfully waylaid Graham on his way to +the private car. + +"Hello, Henry B. Sorry I couldn't see you yesterday," the railroad +builder told West as they shook hands. "You taking this tram?" + +"Yes, sir. Got business takes me East." + +"Drop in to see me some time this morning. Say about noon. You'll have +lunch with me." + +"Suits me. About noon, then," agreed West. + +The conspirators modified their plans to meet a new strategic situation. +West was still of opinion that he had better use his card of entry to get +his friends into the railroad builder's car, but he yielded to Dave's +view that it would be wiser for the cattleman to pave the way at +luncheon. + +Graham's secretary ate lunch with the two old-timers and the conversation +threatened to get away from West and hover about financial conditions in +New York. The cattleman brought it by awkward main force to the subject +he had in mind. + +"Say, Horace, I wanta talk with you about a proposition that's on my +chest," he broke out. + +Graham helped himself to a lamb chop. "Sail in, Henry B. You've got me at +your mercy." + +At the first mention of the Jackpot gusher the financier raised a +prohibitive hand. "I've disposed of that matter. No use reopening it." + +But West stuck to his guns. "I ain't aimin' to try to change yore mind on +a matter of business, Horace. If you'll tell me that you turned down the +proposition because it didn't look to you like there was money in it, +I'll curl right up and not say another word." + +"It doesn't matter why I turned it down. I had my reasons." + +"It matters if you're doin' an injustice to one of the finest young +fellows I know," insisted the New Mexican stanchly. + +"Meaning the convict?" + +"Call him that if you've a mind to. The Governor pardoned him yesterday +because another man confessed he did the killin' for which Dave was +convicted. The boy was railroaded through on false evidence." + +The railroad builder was a fair-minded man. He did not want to be unjust +to any one. At the same time he was not one to jump easily from one view +to another. + +"I noticed something in the papers about a pardon, but I didn't know it +was our young oil promoter. There are other rumors about him too. A stage +robbery, for instance, and a murder with it." + +"He and Em Crawford ran down the robbers and got the money back. One of +the robbers confessed. Dave hadn't a thing to do with the hold-up. +There's a bad gang down in that country. Crawford and Sanders have been +fightin' 'em, so naturally they tell lies about 'em." + +"Did you say this Sanders ran down one of the robbers?" + +"Yes." + +"He didn't tell me that," said Graham thoughtfully. "I liked the young +fellow when I first saw him. He looks quiet and strong; a self-reliant +fellow would be my guess." + +"You bet he is." West laughed reminiscently. "Lemme tell you how I first +met him." He told the story of how Dave had handled the stock shipment +for him years before. + +Horace Graham nodded shrewdly. "Exactly the way I had him sized up till +I began investigating him. Well, let's hear the rest. What more do you +know about him?" + +The Albuquerque man told the other of Dave's conviction, of how he had +educated himself in the penitentiary, of his return home and subsequent +adventures there. + +"There's a man back there in the Pullman knows him like he was his +own son, a straight man, none better in this Western country," West +concluded. + +"Who is he?" + +"Emerson Crawford of the D Bar Lazy R ranch." + +"I've heard of him. He's in this Jackpot company too, isn't he?" + +"He's president of it. If he says the company's right, then it's right." + +"Bring him in to me." + +West reported to his friends, a large smile on his wrinkled face. "I got +him goin' south, boys. Come along, Em, it's up to you now." + +The big financier took one comprehensive look at Emerson Crawford and did +not need any letter of recommendation. A vigorous honesty spoke in the +strong hand-grip, the genial smile, the level, steady eyes. + +"Tell me about this young desperado you gentlemen are trying to saw off +on me," Graham directed, meeting the smile with another and offering +cigars to his guests. + +Crawford told him. He began with the story of the time Sanders and +Hart had saved him from the house of his enemy into which he had been +betrayed. He related how the boy had pursued the men who stole his pinto +and the reasoning which had led him to take it without process of law. He +told the true story of the killing, of the young fellow's conviction, of +his attempt to hold a job in Denver without concealing his past, and of +his busy week since returning to Malapi. + +"All I've got to say is that I hope my boy will grow up to be as good +a man as Dave Sanders," the cattleman finished, and he turned over to +Graham a copy of the findings of the Pardon Board, of the pardon, and of +the newspapers containing an account of the affair with a review of the +causes that had led to the miscarriage of justice. + +"Now about your Jackpot Company. What do you figure as the daily output +of the gusher?" asked Graham. + +"Don't know. It's a whale of a well. Seems to have tapped a great lake of +oil half a mile underground. My driller Burns figures it at from twenty +to thirty thousand barrels a day. I cayn't even guess, because I know so +blamed little about oil." + +Graham looked out of the window at the rushing landscape and tapped on +the table with his finger-tips absentmindedly. Presently he announced a +decision crisply. + +"If you'll leave your papers here I'll look them over and let you know +what I'll do. When I'm ready I'll send McMurray forward to you." + +An hour later the secretary announced to the three men in the Pullman the +decision of his chief. + +"Mr. Graham has instructed me to tell you gentlemen he'll look into your +proposition. I am wiring an oil expert in Denver to return with you to +Malapi. If his report is favorable, Mr. Graham will cooperate with you +in developing the field." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +TWO ON THE HILLTOPS + + +It was the morning after his return. Emerson Crawford helped himself to +another fried egg from the platter and shook his knife at the bright-eyed +girl opposite. + +"I tell you, honey, the boy's a wonder," he insisted. "Knows what he +wants and goes right after it. Don't waste any words. Don't beat around +the bush. Don't let any one bluff him out. Graham says if I don't want +him he'll give him a responsible job pronto." + +The girl's trim head tilted at her father in a smile of sweet derision. +She was pleased, but she did not intend to say so. + +"I believe you're in love with Dave Sanders, Dad. It's about time for me +to be jealous." + +Crawford defended himself. "He's had a hard row to hoe, and he's comin' +out fine. I aim to give him every chance in the world to make good. It's +up to us to stand by him." + +"If he'll let us." Joyce jumped up and ran round the table to him. They +were alone, Keith having departed with a top to join his playmates. She +sat on the arm of his chair, a straight, slim creature very much alive, +and pressed her face of flushed loveliness against his head. "It won't be +your fault, old duck, if things don't go well with him. You're good--the +best ever--a jim-dandy friend. But he's so--so--Oh, I don't know--stiff +as a poker. Acts as if he doesn't want to be friends, as if we're all +ready to turn against him. He makes me good and tired, Dad. Why can't he +be--human?" + +"Now, Joy, you got to remember--" + +"--that he was in prison and had an awful time of it. Oh, yes, I remember +all that. He won't let us forget it. It's just like he held us off all +the time and insisted on us not forgetting it. I'd just like to shake the +foolishness out of him." A rueful little laugh welled from her throat at +the thought. + +"He cayn't be gay as Bob Hart all at onct. Give him time." + +"You're so partial to him you don't see when he's doing wrong. But I see +it. Yesterday he hardly spoke when I met him. Ridiculous. It's all right +for him to hold back and be kinda reserved with outsiders. But with his +friends--you and Bob and old Buck Byington and me--he ought not to shut +himself up in an ice cave. And I'm going to tell him so." + +The cattleman's arm slid round her warm young body and drew her close. +She was to him the dearest thing in the world, a never-failing, exquisite +wonder and mystery. Sometimes even now he was amazed that this rare +spirit had found the breath of life through him. + +"You wanta remember you're a li'l lady," he reproved. "You wouldn't want +to do anything you'd be sorry for, honeybug." + +"I'm not so sure about that," she flushed, amusement rippling her face. +"Someone's got to blow up that young man like a Dutch uncle, and I think +I'm elected. I'll try not to think about being a lady; then I can do my +full duty, Dad. It'll be fun to see how he takes it." + +"Now--now," he remonstrated. + +"It's all right to be proud," she went on. "I wouldn't want to see him +hold his head any lower. But there's no sense in being so offish that +even his friends have to give him up. And that's what it'll come to if he +acts the way he does. Folks will stand just so much. Then they give up +trying." + +"I reckon you're right about that, Joy." + +"Of course I'm right. You have to meet your friends halfway." + +"Well, if you talk to him don't hurt his feelin's." + +There was a glint of mirth in her eyes, almost of friendly malice. "I'm +going to worry him about _my_ feelings, Dad. He'll not have time to think +of his own." + +Joyce found her chance next day. She met David Sanders in front of a +drug-store. He would have passed with a bow if she had let him. + +"What does the oil expert Mr. Graham sent think about our property?" she +asked presently, greetings having been exchanged. + +"He hasn't given out any official opinion yet, but he's impressed. The +report will be favorable, I think." + +"Isn't that good?" + +"Couldn't be better," he admitted. + +It was a warm day. Joyce glanced in at the soda fountain and said +demurely, "My, but it's hot! Won't you come in and have an ice-cream soda +on me?" + +Dave flushed. "If you'll go as my guest," he said stiffly. + +"How good of you to invite me!" she accepted, laughing, but with a tint +of warmer color in her cheeks. + +Rhythmically she moved beside him to a little table in the corner of the +drug-store. "I own stock in the Jackpot. You've got to give an accounting +to me. Have you found a market yet?" + +"The whole Southwest will be our market as soon as we can reach it." + +"And when will that be?" she asked. + +"I'm having some hauled to relieve the glut. The railroad will be +operating inside of six weeks. We'll keep Number Three capped till then +and go on drilling in other locations. Burns is spudding in a new well +to-day." + +The clerk took their order and departed. They were quite alone, not +within hearing of anybody. Joyce took her fear by the throat and plunged +in. + +"You mad at me, Mr. Sanders?" she asked jauntily. + +"You know I'm not." + +"How do I know it?" she asked innocently. "You say as little to me as you +can, and get away from me as quick as you can. Yesterday, for instance, +you'd hardly say 'Good-morning.'" + +"I didn't mean to be rude. I was busy." Dave felt acutely uncomfortable. +"I'm sorry if I didn't seem sociable." + +"So was Mr. Hart busy, but he had time to stop and say a pleasant word." +The brown eyes challenged their vis-a-vis steadily. + +The young man found nothing to say. He could not explain that he had not +lingered because he was giving Bob a chance to see her alone, nor could +he tell her that he felt it better for his peace of mind to keep away +from her as much as possible. + +"I'm not in the habit of inviting young men to invite me to take a soda, +Mr. Sanders," she went on. "This is my first offense. I never did it +before, and I never expect to again.... I do hope the new well will come +in a good one." The last sentence was for the benefit of the clerk +returning with the ice-cream. + +"Looks good," said Dave, playing up. "Smut's showing, and you know that's +a first-class sign." + +"Bob said it was expected in to-day or to-morrow.... I asked you because +I've something to say to you, something I think one of your friends ought +to say, and--and I'm going to do it," she concluded in a voice modulated +just to reach him. + +The clerk had left the glasses and the check. He was back at the fountain +polishing the counter. + +Sanders waited in silence. He had learned to let the burden of +conversation rest on his opponent, and he knew that Joyce just now +was in that class. + +She hesitated, uncertain of her opening. Then, "You're disappointing your +friends, Mr. Sanders," she said lightly. + +He did not know what an effort it took to keep her voice from quavering, +her hand from trembling as it rested on the onyx top of the table. + +"I'm sorry," he said a second time. + +"Perhaps it's our fault. Perhaps we haven't been ... friendly enough." +The lifted eyes went straight into his. + +He found an answer unexpectedly difficult. "No man ever had more generous +friends," he said at last brusquely, his face set hard. + +The girl guessed at the tense feeling back of his words. + +"Let's walk," she replied, and he noticed that the eyes and mouth had +softened to a tender smile. "I can't talk here, Dave." + +They made a pretense of finishing their sodas, then walked out of the +town into the golden autumn sunlight of the foothills. Neither of them +spoke. She carried herself buoyantly, chin up, her face a flushed cameo +of loveliness. As she took the uphill trail a small breath of wind +wrapped the white skirt about her slender limbs. He found in her a new +note, one of unaccustomed shyness. + +The silence grew at last too significant. She was driven to break it. + +"I suppose I'm foolish," she began haltingly. "But I had been +expecting--all of us had--that when you came home from--from Denver--the +first time, I mean--you would be the old Dave Sanders we all knew and +liked. We wanted our friendship to--to help make up to you for what you +must have suffered. We didn't think you'd hold us off like this." + +His eyes narrowed. He looked away at the cedars on the hills painted in +lustrous blues and greens and purples, and at the slopes below burnt to +exquisite color lights by the fires of fall. But what he saw was a gray +prison wall with armed men in the towers. + +"If I could tell you!" He said it in a whisper, to himself, but she just +caught the words. + +"Won't you try?" she said, ever so gently. + +He could not sully her innocence by telling of the furtive whisperings +that had fouled the prison life, made of it an experience degrading and +corrosive. He told her, instead, of the externals of that existence, of +how he had risen, dressed, eaten, worked, exercised, and slept under +orders. He described to her the cells, four by seven by seven, barred, +built in tiers, faced by narrow iron balconies, each containing a stool, +a chair, a shelf, a bunk. In his effort to show her the chasm that +separated him from her he did not spare himself at all. Dryly and in +clean-cut strokes he showed her the sordidness of which he had been the +victim and left her to judge for herself of its evil effect on his +character. + +When he had finished he knew that he had failed. She wept for pity and +murmured, "You poor boy.... You poor boy!" + +He tried again, and this time he drew the moral. "Don't you see, I'm a +marked man--marked for life." He hesitated, then pushed on. "You're fine +and clean and generous--what a good father and mother, and all this have +made you." He swept his hand round in a wide gesture to include the sun +and the hills and all the brave life of the open. "If I come too near +you, don't you see I taint you? I'm a man who was shut up because--" + +"Fiddlesticks! You're a man who has been done a wrong. You mustn't grow +morbid over it. After all, you've been found innocent." + +"That isn't what counts. I've been in the penitentiary. Nothing can wipe +that out. The stain of it's on me and can't be washed away." + +She turned on him with a little burst of feminine ferocity. "How dare you +talk that way, Dave Sanders! I want to be proud of you. We all do. But +how can we be if you give up like a quitter? Don't we all have to keep +beginning our lives over and over again? Aren't we all forever getting +into trouble and getting out of it? A man is as good as he makes himself. +It doesn't matter what outside thing has happened to him. Do you dare +tell me that my dad wouldn't be worth loving if he'd been in prison forty +times?" + +The color crept into his face. "I'm not quitting. I'm going through. The +point is whether I'm to ask my friends to carry my load for me." + +"What are your friends for?" she demanded, and her eyes were like stars +in a field of snow. "Don't you see it's an insult to assume they don't +want to stand with you in your trouble? You've been warped. You're +eaten up with vain pride." Joyce bit her lip to choke back a swelling in +her throat. "The Dave we used to know wasn't like that. He was friendly +and sweet. When folks were kind to him he was kind to them. He wasn't +like--like an old poker." She fell back helplessly on the simile she had +used with her father. + +"I don't blame you for feeling that way," he said gently. "When I first +came out I did think I'd play a lone hand. I was hard and bitter and +defiant. But when I met you-all again--and found you were just like home +folks--all of you so kind and good, far beyond any claims I had on +you--why, Miss Joyce, my heart went out to my old friends with a rush. +It sure did. Maybe I had to be stiff to keep from being mushy." + +"Oh, if that's it!" Her eager face, flushed and tender, nodded approval. + +"But you've got to look at this my way too," he urged. "I can't repay +your father's kindness--yes, and yours too--by letting folks couple your +name, even in friendship, with a man who--" + +She turned on him, glowing with color. "Now that's absurd, Dave Sanders. +I'm not a--a nice little china doll. I'm a flesh-and-blood girl. And I'm +not a statue on a pedestal. I've got to live just like other people. +The trouble with you is that you want to be generous, but you don't want +to give other folks a chance to be. Let's stop this foolishness and be +sure-enough friends--Dave." + +He took her outstretched hand in his brown palm, smiling down at her. +"All right. I know when I'm beaten." + +She beamed. "That's the first honest-to-goodness smile I've seen on your +face since you came back." + +"I've got millions of 'em in my system," he promised. "I've been hoarding +them up for years." + +"Don't hoard them any more. Spend them," she urged. + +"I'll take that prescription, Doctor Joyce." And he spent one as evidence +of good faith. + +The soft and shining oval of her face rippled with gladness as a mountain +lake sparkles with sunshine in a light summer breeze. "I've found again +that Dave boy I lost," she told him. + +"You won't lose him again," he answered, pushing into the hinterland +of his mind the reflection that a man cannot change the color of his +thinking in an hour. + +"We thought he'd gone away for good. I'm so glad he hasn't." + +"No. He's been here all the time, but he's been obeying the orders of a +man who told him he had no business to be alive." + +He looked at her with deep, inscrutable eyes. As a boy he had been +shy but impulsive. The fires of discipline had given him remarkable +self-restraint. She could not tell he was finding in her face the quality +to inspire in a painter a great picture, the expression of that brave +young faith which made her a touchstone to find the gold in his soul. + +Yet in his gravity was something that disturbed her blood. Was she +fanning to flame banked fires better dormant? + +She felt a compunction for what she had done. Maybe she had been +unwomanly. It is a penalty impulsive people have to pay that later they +must consider whether they have been bold and presumptuous. Her spirits +began to droop when she should logically have been celebrating her +success. + +But Dave walked on mountain-tops tipped with mellow gold. He threw off +the weight that had oppressed his spirits for years and was for the hour +a boy again. She had exorcised the gloom in which he walked. He looked +down on a magnificent flaming desert, and it was good. To-day was his. +To-morrow was his. All the to-morrows of the world were in his hand. He +refused to analyze the causes of his joy. It was enough that beside him +moved with charming diffidence the woman of his dreams, that with her +soft hands she had torn down the barrier between them. + +"And now I don't know whether I've done right," she said ruefully. "Dad +warned me I'd better be careful. But of course I always know best. I +'rush in.'" + +"You've done me a million dollars' worth of good. I needed some good +friend to tell me just what you have. Please don't regret it." + +"Well, I won't." She added, in a hesitant murmur, "You +won't--misunderstand?" + +His look turned aside the long-lashed eyes and brought a faint flush of +pink to her cheeks. + +"No, I'll not do that," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +DAVE BECOMES AN OFFICE MAN + + +From Graham came a wire a week after the return of the oil expert to +Denver. It read: + +Report satisfactory. Can you come at once and arrange with me plan of +organization? + +Sanders was on the next train. He was still much needed at Malapi to look +after getting supplies and machinery and to arrange for a wagon train of +oil teams, but he dropped or delegated this work for the more important +call that had just come. + +His contact with Graham uncovered a new side of the state builder, one +that was to impress him in all the big business men he met. They might be +pleasant socially and bear him a friendly good-will, but when they met to +arrange details of a financial plan they always wanted their pound of +flesh. Graham drove a hard bargain with him. He tied the company fast by +legal control of its affairs until his debt was satisfied. He exacted a +bonus in the form of stock that fairly took the breath of the young man +with whom he was negotiating. Dave fought him round by round and found +the great man smooth and impervious as polished agate. + +Yet Dave liked him. When they met at lunch, as they did more than once, +the grizzled Westerner who had driven a line of steel across almost +impassable mountain passes was simple and frank in talk. He had taken +a fancy to this young fellow, and he let him know it. Perhaps he found +something of his own engaging, dogged youth in the strong-jawed +range-rider. + +"Does a financier always hogtie a proposition before he backs it?" Dave +asked him once with a sardonic gleam in his eye. + +"Always." + +"No matter how much he trusts the people he's doing business with?" + +"He binds them hard and fast just the same. It's the only way to do. Give +away as much money as you want to, but when you loan money look after +your security like a hawk." + +"Even when you're dealing with friends?" + +"Especially when you're dealing with friends," corrected the older man. +"Otherwise you're likely not to have your friends long." + +"Don't believe I want to be a financier," decided Sanders. + +"It takes the hot blood out of you," admitted Graham. "I'm not sure, if I +had my life to live over again, knowing what I know now, that I wouldn't +choose the outdoors like West and Crawford." + +Sanders was very sure which choice he would like to make. He was at +present embarked on the business of making money through oil, but some +day he meant to go back to the serenity of a ranch. There were times +when he left the conferences with Graham or his lieutenants sick at heart +because of the uphill battle he must fight to protect his associates. + +From Denver he went East to negotiate for some oil tanks and material +with which to construct reservoirs. His trip was a flying one. He +entrained for Malapi once more to look after the loose ends that had been +accumulating locally in his absence. A road had to be built across the +desert. Contracts must be let for hauling away the crude oil. A hundred +details waited his attention. + +He worked day and night. Often he slept only a few hours. He grew lean in +body and curt of speech. Lines came into his face that had not been there +before. But at his work apparently he was tireless as steel springs. + +Meanwhile Brad Steelman moled to undermine the company. Dave's men +finished building a bridge across a gulch late one day. It was blown +up into kindling wood by dynamite that night. Wagons broke down +unexpectedly. Shipments of supplies failed to arrive. Engines were +mysteriously smashed. + +The sabotage was skillful. Steelman's agents left no evidence that could +be used against them. More than one of them, Hart and Sanders agreed, +were spies who had found employment with the Jackpot. One or two men were +discharged on suspicion, even though complete evidence against them was +lacking. + +The responsibility that had been thrust on Dave brought out in him +unsuspected business capacity. During his prison days there had developed +in him a quality of leadership. He had been more than once in charge of a +road-building gang of convicts and had found that men naturally turned to +him for guidance. But not until Crawford shifted to his shoulders the +burdens of the Jackpot did he know that he had it in him to grapple with +organization on a fairly large scale. + +He worked without nerves, day in, day out, concentrating in a way that +brought results. He never let himself get impatient with details. +Thoroughness had long since become the habit of his life. To this he +added a sane common sense. + +Jackpot Number Four came in a good well, though not a phenomenal one +like its predecessor. Number Five was already halfway down to the sands. +Meanwhile the railroad crept nearer. Malapi was already talking of its +big celebration when the first engine should come to town. Its council +had voted to change the name of the place to Bonanza. + +The tide was turning against Steelman. He was still a very rich man, but +he seemed no longer to be a lucky one. He brought in a dry well. On +another location the cable had pulled out of the socket and a forty-foot +auger stem and bit lay at the bottom of a hole fifteen hundred feet deep. +His best producer was beginning to cough a weak and intermittent flow +even under steady pumping. And, to add to his troubles, a quiet little +man had dropped into town to investigate one of his companies. He was a +Government agent, and the rumor was that he was gathering evidence. + +Sanders met Thomas on the street. He had not seen him since the +prospector had made his wild ride for safety with the two outlaws hard +on his heels. + +"Glad you made it, Mr. Thomas," said Dave. "Good bit of strategy. When +they reached the notch, Shorty and Doble never once looked to see if we +were around. They lit out after you on the jump. Did they come close to +getting you?" + +"It looked like bullets would be flyin'. I won't say who would 'a' got +who if they had," he said modestly. "But I wasn't lookin' for no trouble. +I don't aim to be one of these here fire-eaters, but I'll fight like a +wildcat when I got to." The prospector looked defiantly at Sanders, +bristling like a bantam which has been challenged. + +"We certainly owe you something for the way you drew the outlaws off our +trail," Dave said gravely. + +"Say, have you heard how the Government is gettin' after Steelman? +He's a wily bird, old Brad is, but he slipped up when he sent out his +advertisin' for the Great Mogul. A photographer faked a gusher for him +and they sent it out on the circulars." + +Sanders nodded, without comment. + +"Steelman can make 'em flow, on paper anyhow," Thomas chortled. "But he's +sure in a kettle of hot water this time." + +"Mr. Steelman is enterprising," Dave admitted dryly. + +"Say, Mr. Sanders, have you heard what's become of Shorty and Doble?" the +prospector asked, lapsing to ill-concealed anxiety. "I see the sheriff +has got a handbill out offerin' a reward for their arrest and conviction. +You don't reckon those fellows would bear me any grudge, do you?" + +"No. But I wouldn't travel in the hills alone if I were you. If you +happened to meet them they might make things unpleasant." + +"They're both killers. I'm a peaceable citizen, as the fellow says. O' +course if they crowd me to the wall--" + +"They won't," Dave assured him. + +He knew that the outlaws, if the chance ever came for them, would strike +at higher game than Thomas. They would try to get either Crawford or +Sanders himself. The treasurer of the Jackpot did not fool himself with +any false promises of safety. The two men in the hills were desperate +characters, game as any in the country, gun-fighters, and they owed both +him and Crawford a debt they would spare no pains to settle in full. Some +day there would come an hour of accounting. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +ON THE DODGE + + +Up in the hills back of Bear Canon two men were camping. They breakfasted +on slow elk, coffee, and flour-and-water biscuits. When they had +finished, they washed their tin dishes with sand in the running brook. + +"Might's well be hittin' the trail," one growled. + +The other nodded without speaking, rose lazily, and began to pack +the camp outfit. Presently, when he had arranged the load to his +satisfaction, he threw the diamond hitch and stood back to take a chew of +tobacco while he surveyed his work. He was a squat, heavy-set man with a +Chihuahua hat. Also he was a two-gun man. After a moment he circled an +arrowweed thicket and moved into the chaparral where his horse was +hobbled. + +The man who had spoken rose with one lithe twist of his big body. His +eyes, hard and narrow, watched the shorter man disappear in the brush. +Then he turned swiftly and strode toward the shoulder of the ridge. + +In the heavy undergrowth of dry weeds and grass he stopped and tested the +wind with a bandanna handkerchief. The breeze was steady and fairly +strong. It blew down the canon toward the foothills beyond. + +The man stripped from a scrub oak a handful of leaves. They were very +brittle and crumbled in his hand. A match flared out. His palm cupped it +for a moment to steady the blaze before he touched it to the crisp +foliage. Into a nest of twigs he thrust the small flame. The twigs, dry +as powder from a four-months' drought, crackled like miniature fireworks. +The grass caught, and a small line of fire ran quickly out. + +The man rose. On his brown face was an evil smile, in his hard eyes +something malevolent and sinister. The wind would do the rest. + +He walked back toward the camp. At the shoulder crest he turned to look +back. From out of the chaparral a thin column of pale gray smoke was +rising. + +His companion stamped out the remains of the breakfast fire and threw +dirt on the ashes to make sure no live ember could escape in the wind. +Then he swung to the saddle. + +"Ready, Dug?" he asked. + +The big man growled an assent and followed him over the summit into the +valley beyond. + +"Country needs a rain bad," the man in the Chihuahua hat commented. +"Don't know as I recollect a dryer season." + +The big hawk-nosed man by his side cackled in his throat with short, +splenetic mirth. "It'll be some dryer before the rains," he prophesied. + +They climbed out of the valley to the rim. The short man was bringing up +the rear along the narrow trail-ribbon. He turned in the saddle to look +back, a hand on his horse's rump. Perhaps he did this because of the +power of suggestion. Several times Doble had already swung his head to +scan with a searching gaze the other side of the valley. + +Mackerel clouds were floating near the horizon in a sky of blue. Was that +or was it not smoke just over the brow of the hill? + +"Cayn't be our camp-fire," the squat man said aloud. "I smothered that +proper." + +"Them's clouds," pronounced Doble quickly. "Clouds an' some mist risin' +from the gulch." + +"I reckon," agreed the other, with no sure conviction. Doble must be +right, of course. No fire had been in evidence when they left the +camping-ground, and he was sure he had stamped out the one that had +cooked the biscuits. Yet that stringy gray film certainly looked like +smoke. He hung in the wind, half of a mind to go back and make sure. Fire +in the chaparral now might do untold damage. + +Shorty looked at Doble. "If tha's fire, Dug--" + +"It ain't. No chance," snapped the ex-foreman. "We'll travel if you don't +feel called on to go back an' stomp out the mist, Shorty," he added with +sarcasm. + +The cowpuncher took the trail again. Like many men, he was not proof +against a sneer. Dug was probably right, Shorty decided, and he did not +want to make a fool of himself. Doble would ride him with heavy jeers all +day. + +An hour later they rested their horses on the divide. To the west lay +Malapi and the plains. Eastward were the heaven-pricking peaks. A long, +bright line zig-zagged across the desert and reflected the sun rays. It +was the bed of the new road already spiked with shining rails. + +"I'm goin' to town," announced Doble. + +Shorty looked at him in surprise. "Wanta see yore picture, I reckon. It's +on a heap of telegraph poles, I been told," he said, grinning. + +"To-day," went on the ex-foreman stubbornly. + +"Big, raw-boned guy, hook nose, leather face, never took no prize as a +lady's man, a wildcat in a rough-house, an' sudden death on the draw," +extemporized the rustler, presumably from his conception of the reward +poster. + +"I'll lie in the chaparral till night an' ride in after dark." + +With the impulsiveness of his kind, Shorty fell in with the idea. He was +hungry for the fleshpots of Malapi. If they dropped in late at night, +stayed a few hours, and kept under cover, they could probably slip out of +town undetected. The recklessness of his nature found an appeal in the +danger. + +"Damfidon't trail along, Dug." + +"Yore say-so about that." + +"Like to see my own picture on the poles. Sawed-off li'l runt. Straight +black hair. Some bowlegged. Wears two guns real low. Doncha monkey with +him onless you're hell-a-mile with a six-shooter. One thousand dollars +reward for arrest and conviction. Same for the big guy." + +"Fellow that gets one o' them rewards will earn it," said Doble grimly. + +"Goes double," agreed Shorty. "He'll earn it even if he don't live to +spend it. Which he's liable not to." + +They headed their horses to the west. As they drew down from the +mountains they left the trail and took to the brush. They wound in and +out among the mesquite and the cactus, bearing gradually to the north and +into the foothills above the town. When they reached Frio Canon they +swung off into a timbered pocket debouching from it. Here they unsaddled +and lay down to wait for night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +A PLEASANT EVENING + + +Brad Steelman sat hunched before a fire of pinon knots, head drooped low +between his high, narrow shoulders. The restless black eyes in the dark +hatchet face were sunk deeper now than in the old days. In them was +beginning to come the hunted look of the gray wolf he resembled. His +nerves were not what they had been, and even in his youth they were not +of the best. He had a way of looking back furtively over his shoulder, +as though some sinister shadow were creeping toward him out of the +darkness. + +Three taps on the window brought his head up with a jerk. His lax fingers +crept to the butt of a Colt's revolver. He waited, listening. + +The taps were repeated. + +Steelman sidled to the door and opened it cautiously. A man pushed in and +closed the door. He looked at the sheepman and he laughed shortly in an +ugly, jeering way. + +"Scared, Brad?" + +The host moistened his lips. "What of, Dug?" + +"Don't ask me," said the big man scornfully. "You always had about as +much sand in yore craw as a rabbit." + +"Did you come here to make trouble, Dug?" + +"No, I came to collect a bill." + +"So? Didn't know I owed you any money right now. How much is it?" + +Steelman, as the leader of his gang, was used to levies upon his purse +when his followers had gone broke. He judged that he would have to let +Doble have about twenty-five dollars now. + +"A thousand dollars." + +Brad shot a quick, sidelong look at him. "Wha's wrong now, Dug?" + +The ex-foreman of the D Bar Lazy R took his time to answer. He enjoyed +the suspense under which his ally was held. "Why, I reckon nothin' +a-tall. Only that this mo'nin' I put a match to about a coupla hundred +thousand dollars belongin' to Crawford, Sanders, and Hart." + +Eagerly Steelman clutched his arm. "You did it, then?" + +"Didn't I say I'd do it?" snapped Doble irritably. "D'ya ever know me rue +back on a bargain?" + +"Never." + +"Wha's more, you never will. I fired the chaparral above Bear Canon. The +wind was right. Inside of twenty-four hours the Jackpot locations will go +up in smoke. Derricks, pumps, shacks, an' oil; the whole caboodle's +doomed sure as I'm a foot high." + +The face of the older man looked more wolfish than ever. He rubbed his +hands together, washing one over the other so that each in turn was +massaged. "Hell's bells! I'm sure glad to hear it. Fire got a good start, +you say?" + +"I tell you the whole country'll go up like powder." + +If Steelman had not just reached Malapi from a visit to one of his sheep +camps he would have known, what everybody else in town knew by this time, +that the range for fifty miles was in danger and that hundreds of +volunteers were out fighting the menace. + +His eyes glistened. "I'll not wear mournin' none if it does just that." + +"I'm tellin' you what it'll do," Doble insisted dogmatically. + +"Shorty with you?" + +"He was, an' he wasn't. I did it while he wasn't lookin'. He was saddlin' +his horse in the brush. Don't make any breaks to him. Shorty's got a soft +spot in him. Game enough, but with queer notions. Some time I'm liable to +have to--" Doble left his sentence suspended in air, but Steelman, +looking into his bleak eyes, knew what the man meant. + +"What's wrong with him now, Dug?" + +"Well, he's been wrong ever since I had to bump off Tim Harrigan. Talks +about a fair break. As if I had a chance to let the old man get to a gun. +No, I'm not so awful sure of Shorty." + +"Better watch him. If you see him make any false moves--" + +Doble watched him with a taunting, scornful eye. + +"What'll I do?" + +The other man's gaze fell. "Why, you got to protect yoreself, Dug, ain't +you?" + +"How?" + +The narrow shoulders lifted. For a moment the small black eyes met those +of the big man. + +"Whatever way seems best to you, Dug," murmured Steelman evasively. + +Doble slapped his dusty hat against his thigh. He laughed, without mirth +or geniality. "If you don't beat Old Nick, Brad. I wonder was you ever +out an' out straightforward in yore life. Just once?" + +"I don't reckon you sure enough feel that way, Dug," whined the older man +ingratiatingly. "Far as that goes, I'm not making any claims that I love +my enemies. But you can't say I throw off on my friends. You always know +where I'm at." + +"Sure I know," retorted Doble bluntly. "You're on the inside of a heap of +rotten deals. So am I. But I admit it and you won't." + +"Well, I don't look at it that way, but there's no use arguin'. What +about that fire? Sure it got a good start?" + +"I looked back from across the valley. It was travelin' good." + +"If the wind don't change, it will sure do a lot of damage to the +Jackpot. Liable to spoil some of Crawford's range too." + +"I'll take that thousand in cash, Brad," the big man said, letting +himself down into the easiest chair he could find and rolling a +cigarette. + +"Soon as I know it did the work, Dug." + +"I'm here tellin' you it will make a clean-up." + +"We'll know by mornin'. I haven't got the money with me anyhow. It's in +the bank." + +"Get it soon as you can. I expect to light out again pronto. This town's +onhealthy for me." + +"Where will you stay?" asked Brad. + +"With my friend Steelman," jeered Doble. "His invitation is so hearty I +just can't refuse him." + +"You'd be safer somewhere else," said the owner of the house after a +pause. + +"We'll risk that, me 'n' you both, for if I'm taken it's liable to be bad +luck for you too.... Gimme something to eat and drink." + +Steelman found a bottle of whiskey and a glass, then foraged for food in +the kitchen. He returned with the shank of a ham and a loaf of bread. His +fear was ill-disguised. The presence of the outlaw, if discovered, would +bring him trouble; and Doble was so unruly he might out of sheer ennui or +bravado let it be known he was there. + +"I'll get you the money first thing in the mornin'," promised Steelman. + +Doble poured himself a large drink and took it at a swallow. "I would, +Brad." + +"No use you puttin' yoreself in unnecessary danger." + +"Or you. Don't hand me my hat, Brad. I'll go when I'm ready." + +Doble drank steadily throughout the night. He was the kind of drinker +that can take an incredible amount of liquor without becoming helpless. +He remained steady on his feet, growing uglier and more reckless every +hour. + +Tied to Doble because he dared not break away from him, Steelman's busy +brain began to plot a way to take advantage of this man's weakness for +liquor. He sat across the table from him and adroitly stirred up his +hatred of Crawford and Sanders. He raked up every grudge his guest had +against the two men, calling to his mind how they had beaten him at every +turn. + +"O' course I know, Dug, you're a better man than Sanders or Crawford +either, but Malapi don't know it--yet. Down at the Gusher I hear they +laugh about that trick he played on you blowin' up the dam. Luck, I call +it, but--" + +"Laugh, do they?" growled the big man savagely. "I'd like to hear some o' +that laughin'." + +"Say this Sanders is a wonder; that nobody's got a chance against him. +That's the talk goin' round. I said any day in the week you had him beat +a mile, and they gave me the laugh." + +"I'll show 'em!" cried the enraged bully with a furious oath. + +"I'll bet you do. No man livin' can make a fool outa Dug Doble, rustle +the evidence to send him to the pen, snap his fingers at him, and on top +o' that steal his girl. That's what I told--" + +Doble leaned across the table and caught in his great fist the wrist of +Steelman. His bloodshot eyes glared into those of the man opposite. "What +girl?" he demanded hoarsely. + +Steelman looked blandly innocent. "Didn't you know, Dug? Maybe I ought +n't to 'a' mentioned it." + +Fingers like ropes of steel tightened on the wrist, Brad screamed. + +"Don't do that, Dug! You're killin' me! Ouch! Em Crawford's girl." + +"What about her and Sanders?" + +"Why, he's courtin' her--treatin' her to ice-cream, goin' walkin' with +her. Didn't you know?" + +"When did he begin?" Doble slammed a hamlike fist on the table. "Spit it +out, or I'll tear yore arm off." + +Steelman told all he knew and a good deal more. He invented details +calculated to infuriate his confederate, to inflame his jealousy. The big +man sat with jaw clamped, the muscles knotted like ropes on his leathery +face. He was a volcano of outraged vanity and furious hate, seething with +fires ready to erupt. + +"Some folks say it's Hart she's engaged to," purred the hatchet-faced +tempter. "Maybeso. Looks to me like she's throwin' down Hart for this +convict. Expect she sees he's gonna be a big man some day." + +"Big man! Who says so?" exploded Doble. + +"That's the word, Dug. I reckon you've heard how the Governor of Colorado +pardoned him. This town's crazy about Sanders. Claims he was framed for +the penitentiary. Right now he could be elected to any office he went +after." Steelman's restless black eyes watched furtively the effect of +his taunting on this man, a victim of wild and uncurbed passions. He was +egging him on to a rage that would throw away all caution and all +scruples. + +"He'll never live to run for office!" the cattleman cried hoarsely. + +"They talk him for sheriff. Say Applegate's no good--too easy-going. Say +Sanders'll round up you an' Shorty pronto when he's given authority." + +Doble ripped out a wild and explosive oath. He knew this man was playing +on his vanity, jealousy, and hatred for some purpose not yet apparent, +but he found it impossible to close his mind to the whisperings of the +plotter. He welcomed the spur of Steelman's two-edged tongue because he +wanted to have his purpose of vengeance fed. + +"Sanders never saw the day he could take me, dead or alive. I'll meet him +any time, any way, an' when I turn my back on him he'll be ready for the +coroner." + +"I believe you, Dug. No need to tell me you're not afraid of him, for--" + +"Afraid of him!" bellowed Doble, eyes like live coals. "Say that again +an' I'll twist yore head off." + +Steelman did not say it again. He pushed the bottle toward his guest and +said other things. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +FIRE IN THE CHAPARRAL + + +A carpenter working on the roof of a derrick for Jackpot Number Six +called down to his mates: + +"Fire in the hills, looks like. I see smoke." + +The contractor was an old-timer. He knew the danger of fire in the +chaparral at this season of the year. + +"Run over to Number Four and tell Crawford," he said to his small son. + +Crawford and Hart had just driven out from town. + +"I'll shag up the tower and have a look," the younger man said. + +He had with him no field-glasses, but his eyes were trained to +long-distance work. Years in the saddle on the range had made him an +expert at reading such news as the landscape had written on it. + +"Fire in Bear Canon!" he shouted down. "Quite a bit of smoke risin'." + +"I'll ride right up and look it over," the cattleman called back. "Better +get a gang together to fight it, Bob. Hike up soon as you're ready." + +Crawford borrowed without permission of the owner the nearest saddle +horse and put it to a lope. Five minutes might make all the difference +between a winning and a losing fight. + +From the tower Hart descended swiftly. He gathered together all the +carpenters, drillers, enginemen, and tool dressers in the vicinity and +equipped them with shovels, picks, brush-hooks, saws, and axes. To each +one he gave also a gunnysack. + +The foot party followed Crawford into the chaparral, making for the hills +that led to Bear Canon. A wind was stirring, and as they topped a rise it +struck hot on their cheeks. A flake of ash fell on Bob's hand. + +Crawford met them at the mouth of the canon. + +"She's rip-r'arin', Bob! Got too big a start to beat out. We'll clear a +fire-break where the gulch narrows just above here and do our fightin' +there." + +The sparks of a thousand rockets, flung high by the wind, were swept down +the gulch toward them. Behind these came a curtain of black smoke. + +The cattleman set his crew to work clearing a wide trail across the gorge +from wall to wall. The undergrowth was heavy, and the men attacked with +brush-hooks, shovels, and axes. One man, with a wet gunnysack, was +detailed to see that no flying sparks started a new blaze below the +safety zone. The shovelers and grubbers cleared the grass and roots off +to the dirt for a belt of twenty feet. They banked the loose dirt at the +lower edge to catch flying firebrands. Meanwhile the breath of the +furnace grew to a steady heat on their faces. Flame spurts had leaped +forward to a grove of small alders and almost in a minute the branches +were crackling like fireworks. + +"I'll scout round over the hill and have a look above," Bob said. "We've +got to keep it from spreading out of the gulch." + +"Take the horse," Crawford called to him. + +One good thing was that the fire was coming down the canon. A downhill +blaze moves less rapidly than one running up. + +Runners of flame, crawling like snakes among the brush, struck out at the +fighters venomously and tried to leap the trench. The defenders flailed +at these with the wet gunnysacks. + +The wind was stiffer now and the fury of the fire closer. The flames +roared down the canon like a blast furnace. Driven back by the intense +heat, the men retreated across the break and clung to their line. Already +their lungs were sore from inhaling smoke and their throats were +inflamed. A pine, its pitchy trunk ablaze, crashed down across the +fire-trail and caught in the fork of a tree beyond. Instantly the foliage +leaped to red flame. + +Crawford, axe in hand, began to chop the trunk and a big Swede swung an +axe powerfully on the opposite side. The rest of the crew continued to +beat down the fires that started below the break. The chips flew at each +rhythmic stroke of the keen blades. Presently the tree crashed down into +the trail that had been hewn. It served as a conductor, and along it +tongues of fire leaped into the brush beyond. Glowing branches, flung by +the wind and hurled from falling timber, buried themselves in the dry +undergrowth. Before one blaze was crushed half a dozen others started in +its place. Flails and gunnysacks beat these down and smothered them. + +Bob galloped into the canon and flung himself from the horse as he pulled +it up in its stride. + +"She's jumpin' outa the gulch above. Too late to head her off. We better +get scrapers up and run a trail along the top o' the ridge, don't you +reckon?" he said. + +"Yes, son," agreed Crawford. "We can just about hold her here. It'll be +hours before I can spare a man for the ridge. We got to get help in a +hurry. You ride to town and rustle men. Bring out plenty of dynamite +and gunnysacks. Lucky we got the tools out here we brought to build the +sump holes." + +"Betcha! We'll need a lot o' grub, too." + +The cattleman nodded agreement. "And coffee. Cayn't have too much coffee. +It's food and drink and helps keep the men awake." + +"I'll remember." + +"And for the love o' Heaven, don't forget canteens! Get every canteen in +town. Cayn't have my men runnin' around with their tongues hangin' out. +Better bring out a bunch of broncs to pack supplies around. It's goin' to +be one man-sized contract runnin' the commissary." + +The canon above them was by this time a sea of fire, the most terrifying +sight Bob had ever looked upon. Monster flames leaped at the walls of the +gulch, swept in an eyebeat over draws, attacked with a savage roar the +dry vegetation. The noise was like the crash of mountains meeting. +Thunder could scarce have made itself heard. + +Rocks, loosened by the heat, tore down the steep incline of the walls, +sometimes singly, sometimes in slides. These hit the bed of the ravine +with the force of a cannon-ball. The workers had to keep a sharp lookout +for these. + +A man near Bob was standing with his weight on the shovel he had been +using. Hart gave a shout of warning. At the same moment a large rock +struck the handle and snapped it off as though it had been kindling wood. +The man wrung his hands and almost wept with the pain. + +A cottontail ran squealing past them, driven from its home by this new +and deadly enemy. Not far away a rattlesnake slid across the hot rocks. +Their common fear of man was lost in a greater and more immediate one. + +Hart did not like to leave the battle-field. "Lemme stay here. You can +handle that end of the job better'n me, Mr. Crawford." + +The old cattleman, his face streaked with black, looked at him from +bloodshot eyes. "Where do you get that notion I'll quit a job I've +started, son? You hit the trail. The sooner the quicker." + +The young man wasted no more words. He swung to the saddle and rode for +town faster than he had ever traveled in all his hard-riding days. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +FIGHTING FIRE + + +Sanders was in the office of the Jackpot Company looking over some +blue-prints when Joyce Crawford came in and inquired where her father +was. + +"He went out with Bob Hart to the oil field this morning. Some trouble +with the casing." + +"Thought Dad wasn't giving any of his time to oil these days," she said. +"He told me you and Bob were running the company." + +"Every once in a while he takes an interest. I prod him up to go out and +look things over occasionally. He's president of the company, and I tell +him he ought to know what's going on. So to-day he's out there." + +"Oh!" Miss Joyce, having learned what she had come in to find out, might +reasonably have departed. She declined a chair, said she must be going, +yet did not go. Her eyes appeared to study without seeing a field map on +the desk. "Dad told me something last night, Mr. Sanders. He said I might +pass it on to you and Bob, though it isn't to go farther. It's about that +ten thousand dollars he paid the bank when it called his loan. He got the +money from Buck Byington." + +"Buck!" exclaimed the young man. He was thinking that the Buck he used to +know never had ten dollars saved, let alone ten thousand. + +"I know," she explained. "That's it. The money wasn't his. He's executor +or something for the children of his dead brother. This money had come in +from the sale of a farm back in Iowa and he was waiting for an order of +the court for permission to invest it in a mortgage. When he heard Dad +was so desperately hard up for cash he let him have the money. He knew +Dad would pay it back, but it seems what he did was against the law, even +though Dad gave him his note and a chattel mortgage on some cattle which +Buck wasn't to record. Now it has been straightened out. That's why Dad +couldn't tell where he got the money. Buck would have been in trouble." + +"I see." + +"But now it's all right." Joyce changed the subject. There were teasing +pinpoints of mischief in her eyes. "My school physiology used to say that +sleep was restful. It builds up worn-out tissue and all. One of these +nights, when you can find time, give it a trial and see whether that's +true." + +Dave laughed. The mother in this young woman would persistently out. "I +get plenty of sleep, Miss Joyce. Most people sleep too much." + +"How much do you sleep?" + +"Sometimes more, sometimes less. I average six or seven hours, maybe." + +"Maybe," she scoffed. + +"Hard work doesn't hurt men. Not when they're young and strong." + +"I hear you're trying to work yourself to death, sir," the girl charged, +smiling. + +"Not so bad as that." He answered her smile with another for no reason +except that the world was a sunshiny one when he looked at this trim and +dainty young woman. "The work gets fascinating. A fellow likes to get +things done. There's a satisfaction in turning out a full day and in +feeling you get results." + +She nodded sagely, in a brisk, business-like way. "I know. Felt it myself +often, but we have to remember that there are other days and other people +to lend a hand. None of us can do it all. Dad thinks you overdo. So he +told me to ask you to supper for to-morrow night. Bob will be there too." + +"I say thanks, Miss Joyce, to your father and his daughter." + +"Which means you'll be with us to-morrow." + +"I'll be with you." + +But he was not. Even as he made the promise a shadow darkened the +doorsill and Bob Hart stepped into the office. + +His first words were ominous, but before he spoke both of those looking +at him knew he was the bearer of bad news. There was in his boyish face +an unwonted gravity. + +"Fire in the chaparral, Dave, and going strong." + +Sanders spoke one word. "Where?" + +"Started in Bear Canon, but it's jumped out into the hills." + +"The wind must be driving it down toward the Jackpot!" + +"Yep. Like a scared rabbit. Crawford's trying to hold the mouth of the +canon. He's got a man's job down there. Can't spare a soul to keep it +from scootin' over the hills." + +Dave rose. "I'll gather a bunch of men and ride right out. On what side +of the canon is the fire running?" + +"East side. Stop at the wells and get tools. I got to rustle dynamite and +men. Be out soon as I can." + +They spoke quietly, quickly, decisively, as men of action do in a crisis. + +Joyce guessed the situation was a desperate one. "Is Dad in danger?" she +asked. + +Hart answered. "No--not now, anyhow." + +"What can I do to help?" + +"We'll have hundreds of men in the field probably, if this fire has a +real start," Dave told her. "We'll need food and coffee--lots of it. +Organize the women. Make meat sandwiches--hundreds of them. And send +out to the Jackpot dozens of coffee-pots. Your job is to keep the workers +well fed. Better send out bandages and salve, in case some get burnt." + +Her eyes were shining. "I'll see to all that. Don't worry, boys. You +fight this fire, and we women will 'tend to feeding you." + +Dave nodded and strode out of the room. During the fierce and dreadful +days that followed one memory more than once came to him in the fury of +the battle. It was a slim, straight girl looking at him, the call to +service stamped on her brave, uplifted face. + +Sanders was on the road inside of twenty minutes, a group of horsemen +galloping at his heels. At the Jackpot locations the fire-fighters +equipped themselves with shovels, sacks, axes, and brush-hooks. The +party, still on horseback, rode up to the mouth of Bear Canon. Through +the smoke the sun was blood-red. The air was heavy and heated. + +From the fire line Crawford came to meet these new allies. "We're holdin' +her here. It's been nip an' tuck. Once I thought sure she'd break +through, but we beat out the blaze. I hadn't time to go look, but I +expect she's just a-r'arin' over the hills. I've had some teams and +scrapers taken up there, Dave. It's yore job. Go to it." + +The old cattleman showed that he had been through a fight. His eyes were +red and inflamed, his face streaked with black, one arm of his shirt half +torn from the shoulder. But he wore the grim look of a man who has just +begun to set himself for a struggle. + +The horsemen swung to the east and rode up to the mesa which lies between +Bear and Cattle Canons. It was impossible to get near Bear, since the +imprisoned fury had burst from its walls and was sweeping the chaparral. +The line of fire was running along the level in an irregular, ragged +front, red tongues leaping ahead with short, furious rushes. + +Even before he could spend time to determine the extent of the fire, Dave +selected his line of defense, a ridge of rocky, higher ground cutting +across from one gulch to the other. Here he set teams to work scraping +a fire-break, while men assisted with shovels and brush-hooks to clear +a wide path. + +Dave swung still farther east and rode along the edge of Cattle Canon. +Narrow and rock-lined, the gorge was like a boiler flue to suck the +flames down it. From where he sat he saw it caging with inconceivable +fury. The earth rift seemed to be roofed with flame. Great billows +of black smoke poured out laden with sparks and live coals carried by the +wind. It was plain at the first glance that the fire was bound to leap +from the canon to the brush-covered hills beyond. His business now was +to hold the ridge he had chosen and fight back the flames to keep them +from pouring down upon the Jackpot property. Later the battle would have +to be fought to hold the line at San Jacinto Canon and the hills running +down from it to the plains. + +The surface fire on the hills licked up the brush, mesquite, and young +cedars with amazing rapidity. If his trail-break was built in time, Dave +meant to back-fire above it. Steve Russell was one of his party. Sanders +appointed him lieutenant and went over the ground with him to decide +exactly where the clearing should run, after which he galloped back to +the mouth of Bear. + +"She's running wild on the hills and in Cattle Canon," Dave told +Crawford. "She'll sure jump Cattle and reach San Jacinto. We've got to +hold the mouth of Cattle, build a trail between Bear and Cattle, another +between Cattle and San Jacinto, cork her up in San Jacinto, and keep her +from jumping to the hills beyond." + +"Can we back-fire, do you reckon?" + +"Not with the wind there is above, unless we have check-trails built +first. We need several hundred more men, and we need them right away. I +never saw such a fire before." + +"Well, get yore trail built. Bob oughtta be out soon. I'll put him over +between Cattle and San Jacinto. Three-four men can hold her here now. +I'll move my outfit over to the mouth of Cattle." + +The cattleman spoke crisply and decisively. He had been fighting fire for +six hours without a moment's rest, swallowing smoke-filled air, enduring +the blistering heat that poured steadily at them down the gorge. At least +two of his men were lying down completely exhausted, but he contemplated +another such desperate battle without turning a hair. All his days he had +been a good fighter, and it never occurred to him to quit now. + +Sanders rode up as close to the west edge of Bear Canon as he could +endure. In two or three places the flames had jumped the wall and were +trying to make headway in the scant underbrush of the rocky slope +that led to a hogback surmounted by a bare rimrock running to the summit. +This natural barrier would block the fire on the west, just as the +burnt-over area would protect the north. For the present at least the +fire-fighters could confine their efforts to the south and east, where +the spread of the blaze would involve the Jackpot. A shift in the wind +would change the situation, and if it came in time would probably save +the oil property. + +Dave put his horse to a lope and rode back to the trench and trail his +men were building. He found a shovel and joined them. + +From out of Cattle Canon billows of smoke rolled across the hill and +settled into a black blanket above the men. This was acrid from the +resinous pitch of the pines. The wind caught the dark pall, drove it low, +and held it there till the workers could hardly breathe. The sun was +under entire eclipse behind the smoke screen. + +The heat of the flames tortured Dave's face and hands, just as the +smoke-filled air inflamed his nostrils and throat. Coals of fire pelted +him from the river of flame, carried by the strong breeze blowing down. +From the canons on either side of the workers came a steady roar of a +world afire. Occasionally, at some slight shift of the wind, the smoke +lifted and they could see the moving wall of fire bearing down upon them, +wedges of it far ahead of the main line. + +The movements of the workers became automatic. The teams had to be +removed because the horses had become unmanageable under the torture of +the heat. When any one spoke it was in a hoarse whisper because of a +swollen larynx. Mechanically they dug, shoveled, grubbed, handkerchiefs +over their faces to protect from the furnace glow. + +A deer with two fawns emerged from the smoke and flew past on the way to +safety. Mice, snakes, rabbits, birds, and other desert denizens appeared +in mad flight. They paid no attention whatever to their natural foe, man. +The terror of the red monster at their heels wholly obsessed them. + +The fire-break was from fifteen to twenty feet wide. The men retreated +back of it, driven by the heat, and fought with wet sacks to hold the +enemy. A flash of lightning was hurled against Dave. It was a red-hot +limb of a pine, tossed out of the gorge by the stiff wind. He flung it +from him and tore the burning shirt from his chest. An agony of pain shot +through his shoulder, seared for half a foot by the blazing branch. + +He had no time to attend to the burn then. The fire had leaped the +check-trail at a dozen points. With his men he tried to smother the +flames in the grass by using saddle blankets and gunnysacks, as well +as by shoveling sand upon it. Sometimes they cut down the smouldering +brush and flung it back across the break into the inferno on the other +side. Blinded and strangling from the smoke, the fire-fighters would make +short rushes into the clearer air, swallow a breath or two of it, and +plunge once more into the line to do battle with the foe. + +For hours the desperate battle went on. Dave lost count of time. One +after another of his men retreated to rest. After a time they drifted +back to help make the defense good against the plunging fire devil. +Sanders alone refused to retire. His parched eyebrows were half gone. +His clothes hung about him in shredded rags. He was so exhausted that he +could hardly wield a flail. His legs dragged and his arms hung heavy. But +he would not give up even for an hour. Through the confused, shifting +darkness of the night he led his band, silhouetted on the ridge like +gnomes of the nether world, to attack after attack on the tireless, +creeping, plunging flames that leaped the trench in a hundred desperate +assaults, that howled and hissed and roared like ravenous beasts of prey. + +Before the light of day broke he knew that he had won. His men had made +good the check-trail that held back the fire in the terrain between Bear +and Cattle Canons. The fire, worn out and beaten, fell back for lack of +fuel upon which to feed. + +Reinforcements came from town. Dave left the trail in charge of a deputy +and staggered down with his men to the camp that had been improvised +below. He sat down with them and swallowed coffee and ate sandwiches. +Steve Russell dressed his burn with salve and bandages sent out by Joyce. + +"Me for the hay, Dave," the cowpuncher said when he had finished. He +stretched himself in a long, tired, luxurious yawn. "I've rid out a +blizzard and I've gathered cattle after a stampede till I 'most thought +I'd drop outa the saddle. But I give it to this here li'l' fire. It's +sure enough a stemwinder. I'm beat. So long, pardner." + +Russell went off to roll himself up in his blanket. + +Dave envied him, but he could not do the same. His responsibilities were +not ended yet. He found his horse in the remuda, saddled, and rode over +to the entrance to Cattle Canon. + +Emerson Crawford was holding his ground, though barely holding it. He too +was grimy, fire-blackened, exhausted, but he was still fighting to throw +back the fire that swept down the canon at him. + +"How are things up above?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. + +"Good. We held the check-line." + +"Same here so far. It's been hell. Several of my boys fainted." + +"I'll take charge awhile. You go and get some sleep," urged Sanders. + +The cattleman shook his head. "No. See it through. Say, son, look who's +here!" His thumb hitched toward his right shoulder. + +Dave looked down the line of blackened, grimy fire-fighters and his eye +fell on Shorty. He was still wearing chaps, but his Chihuahua hat had +succumbed long ago. Manifestly the man had been on the fighting line for +some hours. + +"Doesn't he know about the reward?" + +"Yes. He was hidin' in Malapi when the call came for men. Says he's no +quitter, whatever else he is. You bet he ain't. He's worth two of most +men at this work. Soon as we get through he'll be on the dodge again, I +reckon, unless Applegate gets him first. He's a good sport, anyhow. I'll +say that for him." + +"I reckon I'm a bad citizen, sir, but I hope he makes his getaway before +Applegate shows up." + +"Well, he's one tough scalawag, but I don't aim to give him away right +now. Shorty is a whole lot better proposition than Dug Doble." + +Dave came back to the order of the day. "What do you want me to do now?" + +The cattleman looked him over. "You damaged much?" + +"No." + +"Burnt in the shoulder, I see." + +"Won't keep me from swinging a sack and bossing a gang." + +"Wore out, I reckon?" + +"I feel fine since breakfast--took two cups of strong coffee." + +Again Crawford's eyes traveled over his ally. They saw a ragged, red-eyed +tramp, face and hands and arms blackened with char and grimed with smoke. +Outside, he was such a specimen of humanity as the police would have +arrested promptly on suspicion. But the shrewd eyes of the cattleman saw +more--a spirit indomitable that would drive the weary, tormented body +till it dropped in its tracks, a quality of leadership that was a trumpet +call to the men who served with him, a soul master of its infirmities. +His heart went out to the young fellow. Wherefore he grinned and gave him +another job. Strong men to-day were at a premium with Emerson Crawford. + +"Ride over and see how Bob's comin' out. We'll make it here." + +Sanders swung to the saddle and moved forward to the next fire front, +the one between Cattle and San Jacinto Canons. Hart himself was not here. +There had come a call for help from the man in charge of the gang trying +to hold the fire in San Jacinto. He had answered that summons long before +daybreak and had not yet returned. + +The situation on the Cattle-San Jacinto front was not encouraging. The +distance to be protected was nearly a mile. Part of the way was along a +ridge fairly easy to defend, but a good deal of it lay in lower land of +timber and heavy brush. + +Dave rode along the front, studying the contour of the country and the +chance of defending it. His judgment was that it could not be done with +the men on hand. He was not sure that the line could be held even with +reinforcements. But there was nothing for it but to try. He sent a man to +Crawford, urging him to get help to him as soon as possible. + +Then he took command of the crew already in the field, rearranged the men +so as to put the larger part of his force in the most dangerous locality, +and in default of a sack seized a spreading branch as a flail to beat out +fire in the high grass close to San Jacinto. + +An hour later half a dozen straggling men reported for duty. Shorty was +one of them. + +"The ol' man cayn't spare any more," the rustler explained. "He had to +hustle Steve and his gang outa their blankets to go help Bob Hart. They +say Hart's in a heluva bad way. The fire's jumped the trail-check and +is spreadin' over the country. He's runnin' another trail farther back." + +It occurred to Dave that if the wind changed suddenly and heightened, it +would sweep a back-fire round him and cut off the retreat of his crew. He +sent a weary lad back to keep watch on it and report any change of +direction in that vicinity. + +After which he forgot all about chances of danger from the rear. His +hands and mind were more than busy trying to drive back the snarling, +ravenous beast in front of him. He might have found time to take other +precautions if he had known that the exhausted boy sent to watch against +a back-fire had, with the coming of night, fallen asleep in a draw. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +SHORTY ASKS A QUESTION + + +When Shorty separated from Doble in Frio Canon he rode inconspicuously to +a tendejon where he could be snugly hidden from the public gaze and yet +meet a few "pals" whom he could trust at least as long as he could keep +his eyes on them. His intention was to have a good time in the only way +he knew how. Another purpose was coupled with this; he was not going to +drink enough to interfere with reasonable caution. + +Shorty's dissipated pleasures were interfered with shortly after +midnight. A Mexican came in to the drinking-place with news. The world +was on fire, at least that part of it which interested the cattlemen of +the Malapi district. The blaze had started back of Bear Canon and had +been swept by the wind across to Cattle and San Jacinto. The oil field +adjacent had been licked up and every reservoir and sump was in flames. +The whole range would probably be wiped out before the fire spent itself +for lack of fuel. Crawford had posted a rider to town calling for more +man power to build trails and wield flails. This was the sum of the news. +It was not strictly accurate, but it served to rouse Shorty at once. + +He rose and touched the Mexican on the arm. "Where you say that fire +started, Pedro?" + +"Bear Canon, senor." + +"And it's crossed San Jacinto?" + +"Like wildfire." The slim vaquero made a gesture all-inclusive. "It runs, +senor, like a frightened jackrabbit. Nothing will stop it--nothing. It +iss sent by heaven for a punishment." + +"Hmp!" Shorty grunted. + +The rustler fell into a somber silence. He drank no more. The dark-lashed +eyes of the Mexican girls slanted his way in vain. He stared sullenly at +the table in front of him. A problem had pushed itself into his +consciousness, one he could not brush aside or ignore. + +If the fire had started back of Bear Canon, what agency had set it going? +He and Doble had camped last night at that very spot. If there had been a +fire there during the night he must have known it. Then when had the fire +started? And how? They had seen the faint smoke of it as they rode away, +the filmy smoke of a young fire not yet under much headway. Was it +reasonable to suppose that some one else had been camping close to them? +This was possible, but not likely. For they would probably have seen +signs of the other evening camp-fire. + +Eliminating this possibility, there remained--Dug Doble. Had Dug fired +the brush while his companion was saddling for the start? The more Shorty +considered this possibility, the greater force it acquired in his mind. +Dug's hatred of Crawford, Hart, and especially Sanders would be satiated +in part at least if he could wipe their oil bonanza from the map. The +wind had been right. Doble was no fool. He knew that if the fire ran wild +in the chaparral only a miracle could save the Jackpot reservoirs and +plant from destruction. + +Other evidence accumulated. Cryptic remarks of Doble made during the +day. His anxiety to see Steelman immediately. A certain manner of +ill-repressed triumph whenever he mentioned Sanders or Crawford. These +bolstered Shorty's growing opinion that the man had deliberately fired +the chaparral from a spirit of revenge. + +Shorty was an outlaw and a bad man. He had killed, and might at any time +kill again. To save the Jackpot from destruction he would not have made a +turn of the hand. But Shorty was a cattleman. He had been brought up in +the saddle and had known the whine of the lariat and the dust of the drag +drive all his days. Every man has his code. Three things stood out in +that of Shorty. He was loyal to the hand that paid him, he stood by his +pals, and he believed in and after his own fashion loved cattle and the +life of which they were the central fact. To destroy the range feed +wantonly was a crime so nefarious that he could not believe Doble guilty +of it. And yet-- + +He could not let the matter lie in doubt. He left the tendejon and rode +to Steelman's house. Before entering he examined carefully both of his +long-barreled forty-fives. He made sure that the six-shooters were in +perfect order and that they rested free in the holsters. That sixth sense +acquired by "bad men," by means of which they sniff danger when it is +close, was telling him that smoke would rise before he left the house. + +He stepped to the porch and knocked. There came a moment's silence, a +low-pitched murmur of whispering voices carried through an open window, +the shuffling of feet. The door was opened by Brad Steelman. He was alone +in the room. + +"Where's Dug?" asked Shorty bluntly. + +"Why, Dug--why, he's here, Shorty. Didn't know it was you. 'Lowed it +might be some one else. So he stepped into another room." + +The short cowpuncher walked in and closed the door behind him. He stood +with his back to it, facing the other door of the room. + +"Did you hire Dug to fire the chaparral?" he asked, his voice ominously +quiet. + +A flicker of fear shot to the eyes of the oil promoter. He recognized +signs of peril and his heart was drenched with an icy chill. Shorty was +going to turn on him, had become a menace. + +"I--I dunno what you mean," he quavered. "I'll call Dug if you wanta see +him." He began to shuffle toward the inner room. + +"Hold yore hawsses, Brad. I asked you a question." The cold eyes of the +gunman bored into those of the other man. "Howcome you to hire Dug to +burn the range?" + +"You know I wouldn't do that," the older man whined. "I got sheep, ain't +I? Wouldn't be reasonable I'd destroy their feed. No, you got a wrong +notion about--" + +"Yore sheep ain't on the south slope range." Shorty's mind had moved +forward one notch toward certainty. Steelman's manner was that of a man +dodging the issue. It carried no conviction of innocence. "How much you +payin' him?" + +The door of the inner room opened. Dug Doble's big frame filled the +entrance. The eyes of the two gunmen searched each other. Those of Doble +asked a question. Had it come to a showdown? Steelman sidled over to +the desk where he worked and sat down in front of it. His right hand +dropped into an open drawer, apparently carelessly and without intent. + +Shorty knew at once that Doble had been drinking heavily. The man was +morose and sullen. His color was high. Plainly he was primed for a +killing if trouble came. + +"Lookin' for me, Shorty?" he asked. + +"You fired Bear Canon," charged the cowpuncher. + +"So?" + +"When I went to saddle." + +Doble's eyes narrowed. "You aimin' to run my business, Shorty?" + +Neither man lifted his gaze from the other. Each knew that the test had +come once more. They were both men who had "gone bad," in the current +phrase of the community. Both had killed. Both searched now for an +advantage in that steady duel of the eyes. Neither had any fear. The +emotions that dominated were cold rage and caution. Every sense and nerve +in each focalized to one purpose--to kill without being killed. + +"When yore's is mine, Dug." + +"Is this yore's?" + +"Sure is. I've stood for a heap from you. I've let yore ugly temper ride +me. When you killed Tim Harrigan you got me in bad. Not the first time +either. But I'm damned if I'll ride with a coyote low-down enough to burn +the range." + +"No?" + +"No." + +From the desk came the sharp angry bark of a revolver. Shorty felt his +hat lift as a bullet tore through the rim. His eyes swept to Steelman, +who had been a negligible factor in his calculations. The man fired again +and blew out the light. In the darkness Shorty swept out both guns and +fired. His first two shots were directed toward the man behind the desk, +the next two at the spot where Doble had been standing. Another gun was +booming in the room, perhaps two. Yellow fire flashes ripped the +blackness. + +Shorty whipped open the door at his back, slid through it, and kicked it +shut with his foot as he leaped from the porch. At the same moment he +thought he heard a groan. + +Swiftly he ran to the cottonwood where he had left his horse tied. He +jerked loose the knot, swung to the saddle, and galloped out of town. + +The drumming of hoofs came down the wind to a young fellow returning from +a late call on his sweetheart. He wondered who was in such a hurry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +DUG DOBLE RIDES INTO THE HILLS + + +The booming of the guns died down. The acrid smoke that filled the room +lifted to shredded strata. A man's deep breathing was the only sound in +the heavy darkness. + +Presently came a soft footfall of some one moving cautiously. A match +flared. A hand cupped the flame for an instant to steady it before the +match moved toward the wick of a kerosene lamp. + +Dug Doble's first thought was for his own safety. The house door was +closed, the window blinds were down. He had heard the beat of hoofs die +away on the road. But he did not intend to be caught by a trick. He +stepped forward, locked the door, and made sure the blinds were offering +no cracks of light. Satisfied that all was well, he turned to the figure +sprawled on the floor with outflung arms. + +"Dead as a stuck shote," he said callously after he had turned the body +over. "Got him plumb through the forehead--in the dark, too. Some +shootin', Shorty." + +He stood looking down at the face of the man whose brain had spun so +many cobwebs of deceit and treachery. Even in death it had none of that +dignity which sometimes is lent to those whose lives have been full of +meanness and guile. But though Doble looked at his late ally, he was not +thinking about him. He was mapping out his future course of action. + +If any one had heard the shots and he were found here now, no jury on +earth could be convinced that he had not killed Steelman. His six-shooter +still gave forth a faint trickle of smoke. An examination would show that +three shots had been fired from it. + +He must get away from the place at once. + +Doble poured himself half a tumbler of whiskey and drank it neat. Yes, he +must go, but he might as well take with him any money Steelman had in the +safe. The dead man owed him a thousand dollars he would never be able to +collect in any other way. + +He stooped and examined the pockets of the still figure. A bunch of keys +rewarded him. An old-fashioned safe stood in the corner back of the desk. +Doble stooped in front of it, then waited for an instant to make sure +nobody was coming. He fell to work, trying the keys one after another. + +A key fitted. He turned it and swung open the door. The killer drew out +bundles of papers and glanced through them hurriedly. Deeds, mortgages, +oil stocks, old receipts: he wanted none of these, and tossed them to the +floor as soon as he discovered there were no banknotes among them. +Compartment after compartment he rifled. Behind a package of abstracts he +found a bunch of greenbacks tied together by a rubber band at each end. +The first bill showed that the denomination was fifty dollars. Doble +investigated no farther. He thrust the bulky package into his inside coat +pocket and rose. + +Again he listened. No sound broke the stillness of the night. The silence +got on his nerves. He took another big drink and decided it was time to +go. + +He blew out the light and once more listened. The lifeless body of his +ally lying within touch of his foot did not disturb the outlaw. He had +not killed him, and if he had it would have made no difference. Very +softly for a large man, he passed to the inner room and toward the back +door. He deflected his course to a cupboard where he knew Steelman kept +liquor and from a shelf helped himself to an unbroken quart bottle of +bourbon. He knew himself well enough to know that during the next +twenty-four hours he would want whiskey badly. + +Slowly he unlocked and opened the back door. His eyes searched the yard +and the open beyond to make sure that neither his enemy nor a sheriff's +posse was lurking in the brush for him. He crept out to the stable, +revolver in hand. Here he saddled in the dark, deftly and rapidly, +thrusting the bottle of whiskey into one of the pockets of the +saddlebags. Leading the horse out into the mesquite, he swung to the +saddle and rode away. + +He was still in the saddle when the peaks above caught the morning sun +glow in a shaft of golden light. Far up in the gulches the new fallen +snow reflected the dawn's pink. + +In a pocket of the hills Doble unsaddled. He hobbled his horse and turned +it loose to graze while he lay down under a pine with the bottle for a +companion. + +The man had always had a difficult temper. This had grown on him and been +responsible largely for his decline in life. It had been no part of his +plan to "go bad." There had been a time when he had been headed for +success in the community. He had held men's respect, even though they had +not liked him. Then, somehow, he had turned the wrong corner and been +unable to retrace his steps. + +He could even put a finger on the time he had commenced to slip. It had +begun when he had quarreled with Emerson Crawford about his daughter +Joyce. Shorty and he had done some brand-burning through a wet blanket. +But he had not gone so far that a return to respectability was +impossible. A little rustling on the quiet, with no evidence to fasten +it on one, was nothing to bar a man from society. He had gone more +definitely wrong after Sanders came back to Malapi. The young ex-convict, +he chose to think, was responsible for the circumstances that made of him +an outlaw. Crawford and Sanders together had exposed him and driven him +from the haunts of men to the hills. He hated them both with a bitter, +morose virulence his soul could not escape. + +Throughout the day he continued to drink. This gave him no refuge from +himself. He still brooded in the inferno of his own thought-circle. It is +possible that a touch of madness had begun to affect his brain. Certainly +his subsequent actions would seem to bear out this theory. + +Revenge! The thought of it spurred him every waking hour, roweling his +wounded pride cruelly. There was a way within reach of his hand, one +suggested by Steelman's whisperings, though never openly advocated by +the sheepman. The jealousy of the man urged him to it, and his consuming +vanity persuaded him that out of evil might come good. He could make the +girl love him. So her punishment would bring her joy in the end. As for +Crawford and Sanders, his success would be such bitter medicine to them +that time would never wear away the taste of it. + +At dusk he rose and resaddled. Under the stars he rode back to Malapi. He +knew exactly what he meant to do and how he meant to do it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +THE TUNNEL + + +Dave knew no rest that night. He patrolled his line from San Jacinto to +Cattle and back again, stopping always to lend a hand where the attack +was most furious. The men of his crew were weary to exhaustion, but the +pressure of the fire was so great that they dared not leave the front. +As soon as one blaze was beaten out, another started. A shower of sparks +close to Cattle Canon swept over the ridge and set the thick grass afire. +This was smothered with saddle blankets and with sand and dirt thrown +from shovels. + +Nearer to San Jacinto Canon the danger was more acute. Dave did not dare +back-fire on account of the wind. He dynamited the timber to make a +trail-break against the howling, roaring wall of fire plunging forward. + +As soon as the flames seized the timber the heat grew more intense. The +sound of falling trees as they crashed down marked the progress of the +fire. The men retreated, staggering with exhaustion, hands and faces +flayed, eyes inflamed and blinded by the black smoke that rolled over +them. + +A stiff wind was blowing, but it was no longer a steady one. Sometimes it +bore from the northeast; again in a cross-current almost directly from +the east. The smoke poured in, swirling round them till they scarce knew +one direction from another. + +The dense cloud lifted for a moment, swept away by an air current. To the +fire-fighters that glimpse of the landscape told an appalling fact. The +demon had escaped below from San Jacinto Canon and been swept westward by +a slant of wind with the speed of an express train. They were trapped by +the back-fire in a labyrinth from which there appeared no escape. Every +path of exit was blocked. The flames had leaped from hilltop to hilltop. + +The men gathered together to consult. Many of them were on the verge of +panic. + +Dave spoke quietly. "We've got a chance if we keep our heads. There's an +old mining tunnel hereabouts. Follow me, and stay together." + +He plunged into the heavy smoke that had fallen about them again, working +his way by instinct rather than by sight. Twice he stopped, to make sure +that his men were all at heel. Several times he left them, diving into +the smoke to determine which way they must go. + +The dry, salt crackle of a dead pine close at hand would have told him, +even if the oppressive heat had not, that the fire would presently sweep +over the ground where they stood. He drew the men steadily toward Cattle +Canon. + +In that furious, murk-filled world he could not be sure he was moving in +the right direction, though the slope of the ground led him to think so. +Falling trees crashed about them. The men staggered on in the uncanny +light which tinged even the smoke. + +Dave stopped and gave sharp, crisp orders. His voice was even and steady. +"Must be close to it now. Lie back of these down trees with your faces +close to the ground. I'll be back in a minute. Shorty, you're boss of the +crew while I'm away." + +"You're gonna leave us to roast," a man accused, in a voice that was half +a scream. + +Sanders did not stop to answer him, but Shorty took the hysterical man in +hand. "Git down by that log pronto or I'll bore a hole in you. Ain't you +got sense enough to see he'll save us if there's a chance?" + +The man fell trembling to the ground. + +"Two men behind each log," ordered Shorty. "If yore clothes git afire, +help each other put it out." + +They lay down and waited while the fire swept above and around them. +Fortunately the woods here were not dense. Men prayed or cursed or wept, +according to their natures. The logs in front of some of them caught +fire and spread to their clothing. Shorty's voice encouraged them. + +"Stick it out, boys. He'll be back if he's alive." + +It could have been only minutes, but it seemed hours before the voice of +Sanders rang out above the fury of the blast. + +"All up! I've found the tunnel! Step lively now!" + +They staggered after their leader, Shorty bringing up the rear to see +that none collapsed by the way. The line moved drunkenly forward. Now and +again a man went down, overcome by the smoke and heat. With brutal kicks +Shorty drove him to his feet again. + +The tunnel was a shallow one in a hillside. Dave stood aside and counted +the men as they passed in. Two were missing. He ran along the back trail, +dense with smoke from the approaching flames, and stumbled into a man. It +was Shorty. He was dragging with him the body of a man who had fainted. +Sanders seized an arm and together they managed to get the unconscious +victim to the tunnel. + +Dave was the last man in. He learned from the men in the rear that the +tunnel had no drift. The floor was moist and there was a small seepage +spring in it near the entrance. + +Some of the men protested at staying. + +"The fire'll lick in and burn us out like rats," one man urged. "This +ain't no protection. We've just walked into a trap. I'll take my chance +outside." + +Dave reached forward and lifted one of Shorty's guns from its holster. +"You'll stay right here, Dillon. We didn't make it one minute too soon. +The whole hill out there's roaring." + +"I'll take my chance out there. That's my lookout," said the man, moving +toward the entrance. + +"No. You'll stay here." Dave's hard, chill gaze swept over his crew. +Several of them were backing Dillon and others were wavering. "It's your +only chance, and I'm here to see you take it. Don't take another step." + +Dillon took one, and went crumpling to the granite floor before +Dave could move. Shorty had knocked him down with the butt of his +nine-inch-barrel revolver. + +Already smoke was filling the cave. The fire had raced to its mouth and +was licking in with long, red, hungry tongues. The tunnel timbers were +smouldering. + +"Lie down and breathe the air close to the ground," ordered Dave, just as +though a mutiny had not been quelled a moment before. "Stay down there. +Don't get up." + +He found an old tomato can and used it to throw water from the +seep-spring upon the burning wood. Shorty and one or two of the other men +helped him. The heat near the mouth was so intense they could not stand +it. All but Sanders collapsed and staggered back to sink down to the +fresher air below. + +Their place of refuge packed with smoke. A tree crashed down at the mouth +and presently a second one. These, blazing, sent more heat in to cook the +tortured men inside. In that bakehouse of hell men showed again their +nature, cursing, praying, storming, or weeping as they lay. + +The prospect hole became a madhouse. A big Hungarian, crazed by the +torment he was enduring, leaped to his feet and made for the blazing hill +outside. + +"Back there!" Dave shouted hoarsely. + +The big fellow rushed him. His leader flung him back against the rock +wall. He rushed again, screaming in crazed anger. Sanders struck him down +with the long barrel of the forty-five. The Hungarian lay where he fell +for a few minutes, then crawled back from the mouth of the pit. + +At intervals others tried to break out and were driven back. + +Dave's eyebrows crisped away. He could scarcely draw a breath through his +inflamed throat. His eyes were swollen and almost blinded with smoke. His +lungs ached. Whenever he took a step he staggered. But he stuck to his +job hardily. The tomato can moved more jerkily. It carried less water. +But it still continued to drench the blazing timbers at the mouth of the +tunnel. + +So Dave held the tunnel entrance against the fire and against his own +racked and tortured men. Occasionally he lay down to breathe the air +close to the floor. There was no circulation, for the tunnel ended in a +wall face. But the smoke was not so heavy close to the ground. + +Man after man succumbed to the stupor of unconsciousness. Men choked, +strangled, and even died while their leader, his hair burnt and his eyes +almost sightless, face and body raw with agonizing wounds, crept feebly +about his business of saving their lives. + +Fire-crisped and exhausted, he dropped down at last into forgetfulness of +pain. And the flames, which had fought with such savage fury to blot out +the little group of men, fell back sullenly in defeat. They had spent +themselves and could do no more. + +The line of fire had passed over them. It left charred trees still +burning, a hillside black and smoking, desolation and ruin in its path. + +Out of the prospect hole a man crawled over Dave's prostrate body. He +drew a breath of sweet, delicious air. A cool wind lifted the hair from +his forehead. He tried to give a cowpuncher's yell of joy. From out of +his throat came only a cracked and raucous rumble. The man was Shorty. + +He crept back into the tunnel and whispered hoarsely the good news. Men +came out on all fours over the bodies of those who could not move. Shorty +dragged Dave into the open. He was a sorry sight. The shirt had been +almost literally burned from his body. + +In the fresh air the men revived quickly. They went back into the cavern +and dragged out those of their companions not yet able to help +themselves. Three out of the twenty-nine would never help themselves +again. They had perished in the tunnel. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +A MESSAGE + + +The women of Malapi responded generously to the call Joyce made upon them +to back their men in the fight against the fire in the chaparral. They +were simple folk of a generation not far removed from the pioneer one +which had settled the country. Some of them had come across the plains in +white-topped movers' wagons. Others had lain awake in anxiety on account +of raiding Indians on the war-path. All had lived lives of frugal +usefulness. It is characteristic of the frontier that its inhabitants +help each other without stint when the need for service arises. Now they +cooked and baked cheerfully to supply the wants of the fire-fighters. + +Joyce was in command of the commissary department. She ordered and issued +supplies, checked up the cooked food, and arranged for its transportation +to the field of battle. The first shipment went out about the middle of +the afternoon of the first day of the fire. A second one left town just +after midnight. A third was being packed during the forenoon of the +second day. + +Though Joyce had been up most of the night, she showed no signs of +fatigue. In spite of her slenderness, the girl was possessed of a fine +animal vigor. There was vitality in her crisp tread. She was a decisive +young woman who got results competently. + +A bustling old lady with the glow of winter apples in her wrinkled cheeks +remonstrated with her. + +"You can't do it all, dearie. If I was you I'd go home and rest now. Take +a nice long nap and you'll feel real fresh," she said. + +"I'm not tired," replied Joyce. "Not a bit. Think of those poor men out +there fighting the fire day and night. I'd be ashamed to quit." + +The old lady's eyes admired the clean, fragrant girl packing sandwiches. +She sighed, regretfully. Not long since--as her memory measured time--she +too had boasted a clear white skin that flushed to a becoming pink on her +smooth cheeks when occasion called. + +"A--well a--well, dearie, you'll never be young but once. Make ye the +most of it," she said, a dream in her faded eyes. + +Out of the heart of the girl a full-throated laugh welled. "I'll do just +that, Auntie. Then I'll grow some day into a nice old lady like you." +Joyce recurred to business in a matter-of-fact voice. "How many more +of the ham sandwiches are there, Mrs. Kent?" + +About sunset Joyce went home to see that Keith was behaving properly and +snatched two hours' sleep while she could. Another shipment of food had +to be sent out that night and she did not expect to get to bed till well +into the small hours. + +Keith was on hand when she awakened to beg for permission to go out to +the fire. + +"I'll carry water, Joy, to the men. Some one's got to carry it, ain't +they, 'n' if I don't mebbe a man'll haf to." + +The young mother shook her head decisively. "No, Keithie, you're too +little. Grow real fast and you'll be a big boy soon." + +"You don't ever lemme have any fun," he pouted. "I gotta go to bed an' +sleep an' sleep an' sleep." + +She had no time to stay and comfort him. He pulled away sulkily from her +good-night kiss and refused to be placated. As she moved away into the +darkness, it gave Joyce a tug of the heart to see his small figure on +the porch. For she knew that as soon as she was out of sight he would +break down and wail. + +He did. Keith was of that temperament which wants what it wants when it +wants it. After a time his sobs subsided. There wasn't much use crying +when nobody was around to pay any attention to him. + +He went to bed and to sleep. It was hours later that the voice of some +one calling penetrated his dreams. Keith woke up, heard the sound of a +knocking on the door, and went to the window. The cook was deaf as +a post and would never hear. His sister was away. Perhaps it was a +message from his father. + +A man stepped out from the house and looked up at him. "Mees Crawford, +ees she at home maybeso?" he asked. The man was a Mexican. + +"Wait a jiffy. I'll get up," the youngster called back. + +He hustled into his clothes, went down, and opened the door. + +"The senorita. Ees she at home?" the man asked again. + +"She's down to the Boston Emporium cuttin' sandwiches an' packin' 'em," +Keith said. "Who wants her?" + +"I have a note for her from Senor Sanders." + +Master Keith seized his opportunity promptly. "I'll take you down there." + +The man brought his horse from the hitching-rack across the road. Side by +side they walked downtown, the youngster talking excitedly about the +fire, the Mexican either keeping silence or answering with a brief "Si, +muchacho." + +Into the Boston Emporium Keith raced ahead of the messenger. "Joy, Joy, a +man wants to see you! From Dave!" he shouted. + +Joyce flushed. Perhaps she would have preferred not to have her private +business shouted out before a roomful of women. But she put a good face +on it. + +"A letter, senorita," the man said, presenting her with a note which he +took from his pocket. + +The note read: + +MISS JOYCE: + +Your father has been hurt in the fire. This man will take you to him. + +DAVE SANDERS + +Joyce went white to the lips and caught at the table to steady herself. +"Is--is he badly hurt?" she asked. + +The man took refuge in ignorance, as Mexicans do when they do not want to +talk. He did not understand English, he said, and when the girl spoke in +Spanish he replied sulkily that he did not know what was in the letter. +He had been told to deliver it and bring the lady back. That was all. + +Keith burst into tears. He wanted to go to his father too, he sobbed. + +The girl, badly shaken herself in soul, could not refuse him. If his +father was hurt he had a right to be with him. + +"You may ride along with me," she said, her lip trembling. + +The women gathered round the boy and his sister, expressing sympathy +after the universal fashion of their sex. They were kinder and more +tender than usual, pressing on them offers of supplies and service. Joyce +thanked them, a lump in her throat, but it was plain that the only way in +which they could help was to expedite her setting out. + +Soon they were on the road, Keith riding behind his sister and clinging +to her waist. Joyce had slipped a belt around the boy and fastened it to +herself so that he would not fall from the saddle in case he slept. The +Mexican rode in complete silence. + +For an hour they jogged along the dusty road which led to the new oil +field, then swung to the right into the low foothills among which the +mountains were rooted. + +Joyce was a bit surprised. She asked questions, and again received for +answers shrugs and voluble Spanish irrelevant to the matter. The young +woman knew that the battle was being fought among the canons leading +to the plains. This trail must be a short cut to one of them. She gave up +trying to get information from her guide. He was either stupid or sulky; +perhaps a little of each. + +The hill trail went up and down. It dipped into valleys and meandered +round hills. It climbed a mountain spur, slipped through a notch, and +plumped sharply into a small mountain park. At the notch the Mexican +drew up and pointed a finger. In the dim pre-dawn grayness Joyce could +see nothing but a gulf of mist. + +"Over there, Senorita, he waits." + +"Where?" + +"In the arroyo. Come." + +They descended, letting the horses pick their way down cautiously through +the loose rubble of the steep pitch. The heart of the girl beat fast with +anxiety about her father, with the probability that David Sanders would +soon come to meet her out of the silence, with some vague prescience of +unknown evil clutching at her bosom. There had been growing in Joyce a +feeling that something was wrong, something sinister was at work which +she did not understand. + +A mountain corral took form in the gloom. The Mexican slipped the bars of +the gate to let the horses in. + +"Is he here?" asked Joyce breathlessly. + +The man pointed to a one-room shack huddled on the hillside. + +Keith had fallen sound asleep, his head against the girl's back. "Don't +wake him when you lift him down," she told the man. "I'll just let him +sleep if he will." + +The Mexican carried Keith to a pile of sheepskins under a shed and +lowered him to them gently. The boy stirred, turned over, but did not +awaken. + +Joyce ran toward the shack. There was no light in it, no sign of life +about the place. She could not understand this. Surely someone must be +looking after her father. Whoever this was must have heard her coming. +Why had he not appeared at the door? Dave, of course, might be away +fighting fire, but someone.... + +Her heart lost a beat. The shadow of some horrible thing was creeping +over her life. Was her father dead? What shock was awaiting her in the +cabin? + +At the door she raised her voice in a faint, ineffective call. Her knees +gave way. She felt her body shaking as with an ague. But she clenched her +teeth on the weakness and moved into the room. + +It was dark--darker than outdoors. But as her eyes grew accustomed to the +absence of light she made out a table, a chair, a stove. From the far +side of the room came a gurgle that was half a snore. + +"Father," she whispered, and moved forward. + +Her outstretched hand groped for the bed and fell on clothing warm with +heat transmitted from a human body. At the same time she subconsciously +classified a strong odor that permeated the atmosphere. It was whiskey. + +The sleeper stirred uneasily beneath her touch. She felt stifled, wanted +to shout out her fears in a scream. Far beyond the need of proof she knew +now that something was very wrong, though she still could not guess +at what the dreadful menace was. + +But Joyce had courage. She was what the wind and the sun and a long line +of sturdy ancestors had made her. She leaned forward toward the awakening +man just as he turned in the bunk. + +A hand fell on her wrist and closed, the fingers like bands of iron. +Joyce screamed wildly, her nerve swept away in a reaction of terror. She +fought like a wildcat, twisting and writhing with all her supple strength +to break the grip on her arm. + +For she knew now what the evil was that had been tolling a bell of +warning in her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +HANK BRINGS BAD NEWS + + +The change in the wind had cost three lives, but it had saved the Jackpot +property and the feed on the range. After the fire in San Jacinto Canon +had broken through Hart's defense by its furious and persistent attack, +nothing could have prevented it from spreading over the plains on a wild +rampage except a cloudburst or a decided shift of wind. This last had +come and had driven the flames back on territory already burnt over. + +The fire did not immediately die out, but it soon began to dwindle. Only +here and there did it leap forward with its old savage fury. Presently +these sporadic plunges wore themselves out for lack of fuel. The +devastated area became a smouldering, smoking char showing a few isolated +blazes in the barren ruin. There were still possibilities of harm in them +if the wind should shift again, but for the present they were subdued to +a shadow of their former strength. It remained the business of the +fire-fighters to keep a close watch on the red-hot embers to prevent them +from being flung far by the breeze. + +Fortunately the wind died down soon, reducing the danger to a minimum. + +Dave handed back to Shorty the revolver he had borrowed so peremptorily +from his holster. + +"Much obliged. I won't need this any more." + +The cowpuncher spoke grimly. "I'm liable to." + +"Mexico is a good country for a cattleman," Sanders said, looking +straight at him. + +Shorty met him eye to eye. "So I've been told." + +"Good range and water-holes. Stock fatten well." + +"Yes." + +"A man might do worse than go there if he's worn out this country." + +"Stage-robbers and rustlers right welcome, are they?" asked Shorty +hardily. + +"No questions asked about a man's past if his present is O.K." + +"Listens good. If I meet anybody lookin' to make a change I'll tell him +you recommended Mexico." The eyes of the two men still clashed. In each +man's was a deep respect for the other's gameness. They had been tried by +fire and come through clean. Shorty voiced this defiantly. "I don't like +a hair of yore head. Never did. You're too damned interferin' to suit me. +But I'll say this. You'll do to ride the river with, Sanders." + +"I'll interfere again this far, Shorty. You're too good a man to go bad." + +"Oh, hell!" The outlaw turned away; then thought better of it and came +back. "I'll name no names, but I'll say this. Far as I'm concerned Tim +Harrigan might be alive to-day." + +Dave, with a nod, accepted this as true. "I guessed as much. You've been +running with a mighty bad pardner." + +"Have I?" asked the rustler blandly. "Did I say anything about a +pardner?" + +His eye fell on the three still figures lying on the hillside in a row. +Not a twitching muscle in his face showed what he was thinking, that they +might have been full of splendid life and vigor if Dug Doble had not put +a match to the chaparral back of Bear Canon. The man had murdered them +just as surely as though he had shot them down with a rifle. For weeks +Shorty had been getting his affairs in order to leave the country, but +before he went he intended to have an accounting with one man. + +Dillon came up to Sanders and spoke in an awed voice. "What do you aim to +do with ... these, Sanders?" His hand indicated the bodies lying near. + +"Send horses up for them," Dave said. "You can take all the men back to +camp with you except three to help me watch the fire. Tell Mr. Crawford +how things are." + +The men crept down the hill like veterans a hundred years old. Ragged, +smoke-blackened, and grimy, they moved like automatons. So great was +their exhaustion that one or two dropped out of line and lay down on +the charred ground to sleep. The desire for it was so overmastering that +they could not drive their weighted legs forward. + +A man on horseback appeared and rode up to Dave and Shorty. The man was +Bob Hart. The red eyes in his blackened face were sunken and his coat +hung on him in crisped shreds. He looked down at the bodies lying side by +side. His face worked, but he made no verbal comment. + +"We piled into a cave. Some of the boys couldn't stand it," Dave +explained. + +Bob's gaze took in his friend. The upper half of his body was almost +naked. Both face and torso were raw with angry burns. Eyebrows had +disappeared and eyes were so swollen as to be almost closed. He was +gaunt, ragged, unshaven, and bleeding. Shorty, too, appeared to have gone +through the wars. + +"You boys oughtta have the doc see you," Hart said gently. "He's down at +camp now. One of Em's men had an arm busted by a limb of a tree fallin' +on him. I've got a coupla casualties in my gang. Two or three of 'em +runnin' a high fever. Looks like they may have pneumonia, doc says. Lungs +all inflamed from swallowin' smoke.... You take my hawss and ride down to +camp, Dave. I'll stick around here till the old man sends a relief." + +"No, you go down and report to him, Bob. If Crawford has any fresh men +I'd like mine relieved. They've been on steady for 'most two days and +nights. Four or five can hold the fire here. All they need do is watch +it." + +Hart did not argue. He knew how Dave stuck to a thing like a terrier +to a rat. He would not leave the ground till orders came from Emerson +Crawford. + +"Lemme go an' report," suggested Shorty. "I wanta get my bronc an' light +out pronto. Never can tell when Applegate might drap around an' ask +questions. Me, I'm due in the hills." + +"All right," agreed Bob. "See Crawford himself, Shorty." + +The outlaw pulled himself to the saddle and cantered off. + +"Best man in my gang," Dave said, following him with his eyes. "There to +a finish and never a whimper out of him. Dragged a man out of the fire +when he might have been hustling for his own skin." + +"Shorty's game," admitted Hart. "Pity he went bad." + +"Yes. He told me he didn't kill Harrigan." + +"Reckon Dug did that. More like him." + +Half an hour later the relief came. Hart, Dave, and the three +fire-fighters who had stayed to watch rode back to camp. + +Crawford had lost his voice. He had already seen Hart since the fire had +subsided, so his greeting was to Sanders. + +"Good work, son," he managed to whisper, a quaver in his throat. "I'd +rather we'd lost the whole works than to have had that happen to the +boys, a hundred times rather. I reckon it must 'a' been mighty bad up +there when the back-fire caught you. The boys have been tellin' me. You +saved all their lives, I judge." + +"I happened to know where the cave was." + +"Yes." Crawford's whisper was sadly ironic. "Well, I'm sure glad you +happened to know that. If you hadn't...." The old cattleman gave a +little gesture that completed the sentence. The tragedy that had taken +place had shaken his soul. He felt in a way responsible. + +"If the doc ain't busy now, I reckon Dave could use him," Bob said. "I +reckon he needs a li'l' attention. Then I'm ready for grub an' a sleep +twice round the clock. If any one asks me, I'm sure enough dead beat. +I don't ever want to look at a shovel again." + +"Doc's fixin' up Lanier's burnt laig. He'd oughtta be through soon now. +I'll have him 'tend to Dave's burns right away then," said Crawford. He +turned to Sanders. "How about it, son? You sure look bunged up pretty +bad." + +"I'm about all in," admitted Dave. "Reckon we all are. Shorty gone yet?" + +"Yes. Lit out after he'd made a report. Said he had an engagement to meet +a man. Expect he meant he had an engagement _not_ to meet the sheriff. I +rec'lect when Shorty was a mighty promisin' young fellow before Brad +Steelman got a-holt of him. He punched cows for me twenty years ago. He +hadn't took the wrong turn then. You cayn't travel crooked trails an' not +reach a closed pocket o' the hills sometime." + +For several minutes they had heard the creaking of a wagon working up an +improvised road toward the camp. Now it moved into sight. The teamster +called to Crawford. + +"Here's another load o' grub, boss. Miss Joyce she rustled up them +canteens you was askin' for." + +Crawford stepped over to the wagon. "Don't reckon we'll need the +canteens, Hank, but we can use the grub fine. The fire's about out." + +"That's bully. Say, I got news for you, Mr. Crawford. Brad Steelman's +dead. They found him in his house, shot plumb through the head. I reckon +he won't do you any more meanness." + +"Who killed him?" + +"They ain't sayin'," returned the teamster cautiously. "Some folks was +guessin' that mebbe Dug Doble could tell, but there ain't any evidence +far's I know. Whoever it was robbed the safe." + +The old cattleman made no comment. From the days of their youth Steelman +had been his bitter enemy, but death had closed the account between them. +His mind traveled back to those days twenty-five years ago when he and +the sheepman had both hitched their horses in front of Helen Radcliff's +home. It had been a fair fight between them, and he had won as a man +should. But Brad had not taken his defeat as a man should. He had +nourished bitterness and played his successful rival many a mean +despicable trick. Out of these had grown the feud between them. Crawford +did not know how it had come about, but he had no doubt Steelman had +somehow fallen a victim in the trap he had been building for others. + +A question brought his mind back to the present. The teamster was +talking: "... so she started pronto. I s'pose you wasn't as bad hurt as +Sanders figured." + +"What's that?" asked Crawford. + +"I was sayin' Miss Joyce she started right away when the note come from +Sanders." + +"What note?" + +"The one tellin' how you was hurt in the fire." + +Crawford turned. "Come here, Dave," he called hoarsely. + +Sanders moved across. + +"Hank says you sent a note to Joyce sayin' I'd been hurt. What about it?" + +"Why would I do that when you're not hurt?" + +"Then you didn't?" + +"Of course not," answered Dave, perplexed. + +"Some one's been stringin' you, Hank," said Crawford, smiling. + +The teamster scratched his head. "No, sir. I was there when she left. +About twelve o'clock last night, mebbe later." + +"But Sanders says he didn't send a note, and Joyce didn't come here. So +you must 'a' missed connections somewhere." + +"Probably you saw her start for home," suggested Dave. + +Hank stuck to his guns. "No, sir. She was on that sorrel of hers, an' +Keith was ridin' behind her. I saddled myself and took the horse to the +store. They was waitin' there for me, the two young folks an' Juan." + +"Juan?" + +"Juan Otero. He brought the note an' rode back with her." + +The old cattleman felt a clutch of fear at his heart. Juan Otero was one +of Dug Doble's men. + +"That all you know, Hank?" + +"That's all. Miss Joyce said for me to get this wagonload of grub out +soon as I could. So I come right along." + +"Doble been seen in town lately?" asked Dave. + +"Not as I know of. Shorty has." + +"Shorty ain't in this." + +"Do you reckon--?" + +Sanders cut the teamster short. "Some of Doble's work. But I don't see +why he sent for Keith too." + +"He didn't. Keith begged to go along an' Miss Joyce took him." + +In the haggard, unshaven face of the cattleman Dave read the ghastly +fear of his own soul. Doble was capable of terrible evil. His hatred, +jealousy, and passion would work together to poison his mind. The corners +of his brain had always been full of lust and obscenity. There was this +difference between him and Shorty. The squat cowpuncher was a clean +scoundrel. A child, a straight girl, an honest woman, would be as safe +with him as with simple-hearted old Buck Byington. But Dug Doble--it +was impossible to predict what he would do. He had a vein of caution in +his make-up, but when in drink he jettisoned this and grew ugly. His +vanity--always a large factor in determining his actions--might carry +him in the direction of decency or the reverse. + +"I'm glad Keith's with her," said Hart, who had joined the group. "With +Keith and the Mexican there--" His meaning did not need a completed +sentence. + +"Question is, where did he take her," said Crawford. "We might comb the +hills a week and not find his hole. I wish to God Shorty was still here. +He might know." + +"He's our best bet, Bob," agreed Dave. "Find him. He's gone off somewhere +to sleep. Rode away less than half an hour since." + +"Which way?" + +"Rode toward Bear Canon," said Crawford. + +"That's a lead for you, Bob. Figure it out. He's done--completely worn +out. So he won't go far--not more than three-four miles. He'll be in the +hills, under cover somewhere, for he won't forget that thousand dollars +reward. So he'll be lying in the chaparral. That means he'll be above +where the fire started. If I was looking for him, I'd say somewhere back +of Bear, Cattle, or San Jacinto would be the likeliest spot." + +"Good guess, Dave. Somewheres close to water," said Bob. "You goin' along +with me?" + +"No. Take as many men as you can get. I'm going back, if I can, to find +the place where Otero and Miss Joyce left the road. Mr. Crawford, you'd +better get back to town, don't you think? There may be clues there we +don't know anything about here. Perhaps Miss Joyce may have got back." + +"If not, I'll gather a posse to rake the hills, Dave. If that villain's +hurt my li'l' girl or Keith--" Crawford's whisper broke. He turned away +to conceal the working of his face. + +"He hasn't," said Bob with decision. "Dug ain't crazy even if his actions +look like it. I've a notion when Mr. Crawford gets back to town Miss +Joyce will be there all right. Like as not Dug brought her back himself. +Maybe he sent for her just to brag awhile. You know Dug." + +That was the worst of it, so far as any allaying of their fear went. They +did know Doble. They knew him for a thorough black-hearted scoundrel who +might stop at nothing. + +The three men moved toward the remuda. None of them had slept for +forty-eight hours. They had been through a grueling experience that had +tried soul and body to the limit. But none of them hesitated for an +instant. They belonged to the old West which answers the call no matter +what the personal cost. There was work to do. Not one of them would quit +as long as he could stick to the saddle. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +SHORTY IS AWAKENED + + +The eyes that looked into those of Joyce in the gloom of the cabin +abruptly shook off sleep. They passed from an amazed incredulity to a +malicious triumph. + +"So you've come to old Dug, have you, my pretty?" a heavy voice jeered. + +The girl writhed and twisted regardless of the pain, exerting every +muscle of the strong young arm and shoulder. As well she might have tried +to beat down an iron door with her bare hands as to hope for escape from +his strong grip. He made a motion to draw her closer. Joyce flung herself +back and sank down beside the bunk, straining away. + +"Let me go!" she cried, terror rampant in her white face. "Don't touch +me! Let me go!" + +The force of her recoil had drawn him to his side. His cruel, mirthless +grin seemed to her to carry inexpressible menace. Very slowly, while his +eyes taunted her, he pulled her manacled wrist closer. + +There was a swift flash of white teeth. With a startled oath Doble +snatched his arm away. Savage as a tigress, Joyce had closed her teeth +on his forearm. + +She fell back, got to her feet, and fled from the house. Doble was after +her on the instant. She dodged round a tree, doubled on her course, then +deflected toward the corral. Swift and supple though she was, his long +strides brought him closer. Again she screamed. + +Doble caught her. She fought in his arms, a prey to wild and unreasoning +terror. + +"You young hell-cat, I'm not gonna hurt you," he said. "What's the use o' +actin' crazy?" + +He could have talked to the waves of the sea with as much effect. It is +doubtful if she heard him. + +There was a patter of rapid feet. A small body hurled itself against +Doble's leg and clung there, beating his thigh with a valiant little +fist. + +"You le' my sister go! You le' my sister go!" the boy shouted, repeating +the words over and over. + +Doble looked down at Keith. "What the hell?" he demanded, amazed. + +The Mexican came forward and spoke in Spanish rapidly. He explained that +he could not have prevented the boy from coming without arousing the +suspicions of his sister and her friends. + +The outlaw was irritated. All this clamor of fear annoyed and disturbed +him. This was not the scene he had planned in his drink-inspired +reveries. There had been a time when Joyce had admired the virile force +of him, when she had let herself be kind to him under the impression she +was influencing him for his good. He had misunderstood the reaction of +her mind and supposed that if he could get her away from the influence +of her father and the rest of his enemies, she would again listen to what +he called reason. + +"All right. You brought the brat here without orders. Now take him home +again," directed Doble harshly. + +Otero protested fluently, with gestures eloquent. He had not yet been +paid for his services. By this time Malapi might be too hot for him. He +did not intend ever to go back. He was leaving the country pronto--muy +pronto. The boy could go back when his sister went. + +"His sister's not going back. Soon as it gets dark we'll travel south. +She's gonna be my wife. You can take the kid back to the road an' leave +him there." + +Again the Mexican lifted hands and shoulders while he pattered volubly, +trying to make himself heard above the cries of the child. Dug had +silenced Joyce by the simple expedient of clapping his big hand over her +mouth. + +Doble's other hand went into his pocket. He drew out a flat package of +currency bound together with rubber bands. His sharp teeth drew off one +of the rubbers. From the bundle he stripped four fifty-dollar bills and +handed them to Otero. + +"Peel this kid off'n my leg and hit the trail, Juan. I don' care where +you leave him so long as you keep an eye on him till afternoon." + +With difficulty the Mexican dragged the boy from his hold on Doble and +carried him to a horse. He swung to the saddle, dragged Keith up in front +of him, and rode away at a jog-trot. The youngster was screaming at the +top of his lungs. + +As his horse climbed toward the notch, Otero looked back. Doble had +picked up his prisoner and was carrying her into the house. + +The Mexican formulated his plans. He must get out of the country before +the hue and cry started. He could not count on more than a few hours +before the chase began. First, he must get rid of the child. Then he +wanted to go to a certain tendejon where he would meet his sweetheart +and say good-bye to her. + +It was all very well for Doble to speak of taking him to town or to the +road. Juan meant to do neither. He would leave him in the hills above the +Jackpot and show him the way down there, after which he would ride to +meet the girl who was waiting for him. This would give him time enough to +get away safely. It was no business of his whether or not Doble was +taken. He was an overbearing brute, anyhow. + +An hour's riding through the chaparral brought him to the watershed far +above the Jackpot. Otero picked his way to the upper end of a gulch. + +"Leesten, muchacho. Go down--down--down. First the gulch, then a canon, +then the Jackpot. You go on thees trail." + +He dropped the boy to the ground, watched him start, then turned away at +a Spanish trot. + +The trail was a rough and precipitous one. Stumbling as he walked, Keith +went sobbing down the gulch. He had wept himself out, and his sobs had +fallen to a dry hiccough. A forlorn little chap, tired and sleepy, he +picked his way among the mesquite, following the path along the dry creek +bed. The catclaw tore his stockings and scratched him. Stone bruises hurt +his tender feet. He kept traveling, because he was afraid to give up. + +He reached the junction of the gulch and the canon. A small stream, which +had survived the summer drought, trickled down the bed of the latter. +Through tangled underbrush Keith crept to the water. He lay down and +drank, after which he sat on a rock and pitied himself. In five minutes +he would have been asleep if a sound had not startled him. Some one was +snoring on the other side of a mesquite thicket. + +Keith jumped up, pushed his way through, and almost stumbled over a +sleeping man. He knelt down and began to shake the snorer. The man did +not awaken. The foghorn in his throat continued to rumble intermittently, +now in crescendo, now in diminuendo. + +"Wake up, man!" Keith shouted in his ear in the interval between shakes. + +The sleeper was a villainous-looking specimen. His face and throat were +streaked with black. There was an angry wheal across his cheek. One of +the genus tramp would have scorned his charred clothes. Keith cared for +none of these details. He wanted to unload his troubles to a "grown-up." + +The youngster roused the man at last by throwing water in his face. +Shorty sat up, at the same time dragging out a revolver. His gaze +fastened on the boy, after one swift glance round. + +"Who's with you, kid?" he demanded. + +Keith began to sniffle. "Nobody." + +"Whadya doin' here?" + +"I want my daddy." + +"Who is yore daddy? What's yore name?" + +"Keith Crawford." + +Shorty bit off an oath of surprise. "Howcome you here?" + +"A man brought me." + +The rustler brushed the cobwebs of sleep from his eyes and brain. He had +come up here to sleep undisturbed through the day and far into the night. +Before he had had two hours of rest this boy had dragged him back from +slumber. He was prepared to be annoyed, but he wanted to make sure of the +facts first. + +As far as he understood them, the boy told the story of the night's +adventures. Shorty's face grew grim. He appreciated the meaning back of +them far better than the little fellow. Keith's answers to his questions +told him that the men figuring in the episode must be Doble and Otero. +Though the child was a little mixed as to the direction from which Otero +had brought him, the man was pretty sure of the valley where Doble was +lying hid. + +He jumped to his feet. "We'll go, kid." + +"To daddy?" + +"Not right away. We got hurry-up business first." + +"I wanta go to my daddy." + +"Sure. Soon as we can. But we'll drift over to where yore sister's at +first off. We're both wore to a frazzle, mebbe, but we got to trail over +an' find out what's bitin' Dug." + +The man saddled and took the up-trail, Keith clinging to his waist. At +the head of the gulch the boy pointed out the way he and Otero had come. +This confirmed Shorty's opinion as to the place where Doble was to be +found. + +With the certainty of one who knew these hills as a preacher does his +Bible, Shorty wound in and out, always moving by the line of least +resistance. He was steadily closing the gap of miles that separated him +from Dug Doble. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +JUAN OTERO IS CONSCRIPTED + + +Crawford and Sanders rode rapidly toward Malapi. They stopped several +times to examine places where they thought it possible Otero might have +left the road, but they looked without expectation of any success. +They did not even know that the Mexican had started in this direction. As +soon as he reached the suburbs, he might have cut back across the plain +and followed an entirely different line of travel. + +Several miles from town Sanders pulled up. "I'm going back for a couple +of miles. Bob was telling me of a Mexican tendejon in the hills kept by +the father of a girl Otero goes to see. She might know where he is. If I +can get hold of him likely I can make him talk." + +This struck Crawford as rather a wild-goose chase, but he had nothing +better to offer himself in the way of a plan. + +"Might as well," he said gloomily. "I don't reckon you'll find him. But +you never can tell. Offer the girl a big reward if she'll tell where +Doble is. I'll hustle to town and send out posses." + +They separated. Dave rode back up the road, swung off at the place Hart +had told him of, and turned up a valley which pushed to the roots of the +hills. The tendejon was a long, flat-roofed adobe building close to the +trail. + +Dave walked through the open door into the bar-room. Two or three men +were lounging at a table. Behind a counter a brown-eyed Mexican girl was +rinsing glasses in a pail of water. + +The young man sauntered forward to the counter. He invited the company to +drink with him. + +"I'm looking for Juan Otero," he said presently. "Mr. Crawford wanted me +to see him about riding for him." + +There was a moment's silence. All of those present were Mexicans except +Dave. The girl flashed a warning look at her countrymen. That look, +Sanders guessed at once, would seal the lips of all of them. At once he +changed his tactics. What information he got would have to come directly +through the girl. He signaled her to join him outside. + +Presently she did so. The girl was a dusky young beauty, plump as a +partridge, with the soft-eyed charm of her age and race. + +"The senor wants to see me?" she asked. + +Her glance held a flash of mockery. She had seen many dirty, +poverty-stricken mavericks of humanity, but never a more battered +specimen than this gaunt, hollow-eyed tramp, black as a coal-heaver, +whose flesh showed grimy with livid wounds through the shreds of his +clothing. But beneath his steady look the derision died. Tattered his +coat and trousers might be. At least he was a prince in adversity. The +head on the splendid shoulders was still finely poised. He gave an +impression of indomitable strength. + +"I want Juan Otero," he said. + +"To ride for Senor Crawford." Her white teeth flashed and she lifted her +pretty shoulders in a shrug of mock regret. "Too bad he is not here. Some +other day--" + +"--will not do. I want him now." + +"But I have not got him hid." + +"Where is he? I don't want to harm him, but I must know. He took Joyce +Crawford into the hills last night to Dug Doble--pretended her father had +been hurt and he had been sent to lead her to him. I must save her--from +Doble, not from Otero. Help me. I will give you money--a hundred dollars, +two hundred." + +She stared at him. "Did Juan do that?" she murmured. + +"Yes. You know Doble. He's a devil. I must find him ... soon." + +"Juan has not been here for two days. I do not know where he is." + +The dust of a moving horse was traveling toward them from the hills. A +Mexican pulled up and swung from the saddle. The girl called a greeting +to him quickly before he could speak. "Buenos dios, Manuel. My father +is within, Manuel." + +The man looked at her a moment, murmured "Buenos, Bonita," and took a +step as though to enter the house. + +Dave barred the way. The flash of apprehension in Bonita's face, her +unnecessary repetition of the name, the man's questioning look at her, +told Sanders that this was the person he wanted. + +"Just a minute, Otero. Where did you leave Miss Crawford?" + +The Mexican's eyes contracted. To give himself time he fell again into +the device of pretending that he did not understand English. Dave spoke +in Spanish. The loafers in the bar-room came out to listen. + +"I do not know what you mean." + +"Don't lie to me. Where is she?" + +The keeper of the tendejon asked a suave question. He, too, talked in +Spanish. "Who are you, senor? A deputy sheriff, perhaps?" + +"No. My name is Dave Sanders. I'm Emerson Crawford's friend. If Juan will +help me save the girl he'll get off light and perhaps make some money. +I'll stand by him. But if he won't, I'll drag him back to Malapi and give +him to a mob." + +The sound of his name was a potent weapon. His fame had spread like +wildfire through the hills since his return from Colorado. He had scored +victory after victory against bad men without firing a gun. He had made +the redoubtable Dug Doble an object of jeers and had driven him to the +hills as an outlaw. Dave was unarmed. They could see that. But his quiet +confidence was impressive. If he said he would take Juan to Malapi with +him, none of them doubted he would do it. Had he not dragged Miller back +to justice--Miller who was a killer of unsavory reputation? + +Otero wished he had not come just now to see Bonita, but he stuck +doggedly to his statement. He knew nothing about it, nothing at all. + +"Crawford is sending out a dozen posses. They will close the passes. +Doble will be caught. They will kill him like a wolf. Then they will kill +you. If they don't find him, they will kill you anyhow." + +Dave spoke evenly, without raising his voice. Somehow he made what he +said seem as inevitable as fate. + +Bonita caught her lover by the arm and shoulder. She was afraid, and her +conscience troubled her vicariously for his wrongdoing. + +"Why did you do it, Juan?" she begged of him. + +"He said she wanted to come, that she would marry him if she had a +chance. He said her father kept her from him," the man pleaded. "I didn't +know he was going to harm her." + +"Where is he? Take me to him, quick," said Sanders, relapsing into +English. + +"Si, senor. At once," agreed Otero, thoroughly frightened. + +"I want a six-shooter. Some one lend me one." + +None of them carried one, but Bonita ran into the house and brought back +a small bulldog. Dave looked it over without enthusiasm. It was a pretty +poor concern to take against a man who carried two forty-fives and knew +how to use them. But he thrust it into his pocket and swung to the +saddle. It was quite possible he might be killed by Doble, but he had a +conviction that the outlaw had come to the end of the passage. He was +going to do justice on the man once for all. He regarded this as a +certainty. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +THE BULLDOG BARKS + + +Joyce fainted for the first time in her life. + +When she recovered consciousness Doble was splashing water in her face. +She was lying on the bunk from which she had fled a few minutes earlier. +The girl made a motion to rise and he put a heavy hand on her shoulder. + +"Keep your hand off me!" she cried. + +"Don't be a fool," he told her irritably. "I ain't gonna hurt you +none--if you behave reasonable:" + +"Let me go," she demanded, and struggled to a sitting position on the +couch. "You let me go or my father--" + +"What'll he do?" demanded the man brutally. "I've stood a heap from +that father of yore's. I reckon this would even the score even if I +hadn't--" He pulled up, just in time to keep from telling her that he had +fired the chaparral. He was quite sober enough to distrust his tongue. It +was likely, he knew, to let out some things that had better not be told. + +She tried to slip by him and he thrust her back. + +"Let me go!" she demanded. "At once!" + +"You're not gonna go," he told her flatly. "You'll stay here--with me. +For keeps. Un'erstand?" + +"Have you gone crazy?" she asked wildly, her heart fluttering like a +frightened bird in a cage. "Don't you know my father will search the +whole country for me?" + +"Too late. We travel south soon as it's dark." He leaned forward and put +a hand on her knee, regardless of the fact that she shrank back quivering +from his touch. "Listen, girl. You been a high-stepper. Yore heels click +mighty loud when they hit the sidewalk. Good enough. Go far as you like. +I never did fancy the kind o' women that lick a man's hand. But you made +one mistake. I'm no doormat, an' nobody alive can wipe their feet on me. +You turned me down cold. You had the ol' man kick me outa my job as +foreman of the ranch. I told him an' you both I'd git even. But I don't +aim to rub it in. I'm gonna give you a chance to be Mrs. Doble. An' when +you marry me you git a man for a husband." + +"I'll never marry you! Never! I'd rather be dead in my grave!" she broke +out passionately. + +He went to the table, poured himself a drink, and gulped it down. His +laugh was sinister and mirthless. + +"Please yorese'f, sweetheart," he jeered. "Only you won't be dead in +yore grave. You'll be keepin' house for Dug Doble. I'm not insistin' on +weddin' bells none. But women have their fancies an' I aim to be kind. +Take 'em or leave 'em." + +She broke down and wept, her face in her hands. In her sheltered life she +had known only decent, clean-minded people. She did not know how to cope +with a man like this. The fear of him rose in her throat and choked her. +This dreadful thing he threatened could not be, she told herself. God +would not permit it. He would send her father or Dave Sanders or Bob Hart +to rescue her. And yet--when she looked at the man, big, gross, dominant, +flushed with drink and his triumph--the faith in her became a weak and +fluid stay for her soul. She collapsed like a child and sobbed. + +Her wild alarm annoyed him. He was angered at her uncontrollable shudders +when he drew near. There was a savage desire in him to break through the +defense of her helplessness once for all. But his caution urged delay. He +must give her time to get accustomed to the idea of him. She had sense +enough to see that she must make the best of the business. When the +terror lifted from her mind she would be reasonable. + +He repeated again that he was not going to hurt her if she met him +halfway, and to show good faith went out and left her alone. + +The man sat down on a chopping-block outside and churned his hatred of +Sanders and Crawford. He spurred himself with drink, under its influence +recalling the injuries they had done him. His rage and passion simmered, +occasionally exploded into raucous curses. Once he strode into the house, +full of furious intent, but the eyes of the girl daunted him. They looked +at him as they might have looked at a tiger padding toward her. + +He flung out of the house again, snarling at his own weakness. There was +something in him stronger than passion, stronger than his reckless will, +that would not let him lay a hand on her in the light of day. His +bloodshot eyes looked for the sun. In a few hours now it would be dark. + +While he lounged sullenly on the chopping-block, shoulders and head +sunken, a sound brought him to alert attention. A horseman was galloping +down the slope on the other side of the valley. + +Doble eased his guns to make sure of them. Intently he watched the +approaching figure. He recognized the horse, Chiquito, and then, with an +oath, the rider. His eyes gleamed with evil joy. At last! At last he and +Dave Sanders would settle accounts. One of them would be carried out of +the valley feet first. + +Sanders leaped to the ground at the same instant that he pulled Chiquito +up. The horse was between him and his enemy. + +The eyes of the men crossed in a long, level look. + +"Where's Joyce Crawford?" asked Dave. + +"That yore business?" Doble added to his retort the insult unmentionable. + +"I'm makin' it mine. What have you done with her?" The speech of the +younger man took on again the intonation of earlier days. "I'm here to +find out." + +A swish of skirts, a soft patter of feet, and Joyce was beside her +friend, clinging to him, weeping in his arms. + +Doble moved round in a wide circumference. When shooting began he did not +want his foe to have the protection of the horse's body. Not even for the +beat of a lid did the eyes of either man lift from the other. + +"Go back to the house, Joyce," said Dave evenly. "I want to talk with +this man alone." + +The girl clung the tighter to him. "No, Dave, no! It's been ... awful." + +The outlaw drew his long-barreled six-shooter, still circling the group. +He could not fire without running a risk of hitting Joyce. + +"Hidin' behind a woman, are you?" he taunted, and again flung the epithet +men will not tolerate. + +At any moment he might fire. Dave caught the wrists of the girl, dragged +them down from his neck, and flung her roughly from him to the ground. He +pulled out his little bulldog. + +Doble fired and Dave fell. The outlaw moved cautiously closer, exultant +at his marksmanship. His enemy lay still, the pistol in his hand. +Apparently Sanders had been killed at the first shot. + +"Come to git me with that popgun, did you? Hmp! Fat chance." The bad man +fired again, still approaching very carefully. + +Round the corner of the house a man had come. He spoke quickly. "Turn +yore gun this way, Dug." + +It was Shorty. His revolver flashed at the same instant. Doble staggered, +steadied himself, and fired. + +The forty-fives roared. Yellow flames and smoke spurted. The bulldog +barked. Dave's parlor toy had come into action. + +Out of the battle Shorty and Sanders came erect and uninjured. Doble +was lying on the ground, his revolver smoking a foot or two from the +twitching, outstretched hand. + +The outlaw was dead before Shorty turned him over. A bullet had passed +through the heart. Another had struck him on the temple, a third in the +chest. + +"We got him good," said Shorty. "It was comin' to him. I reckon you don't +know that he fired the chaparral on purpose. Wanted to wipe out the +Jackpot, I s'pose. Yes, Dug sure had it comin' to him." + +Dave said nothing. He looked down at the man, eyes hard as jade, jaw +clamped tight. He knew that but for Shorty's arrival he would probably be +lying there himself. + +"I was aimin' to shoot it out with him before I heard of this last +scullduggery. Soon as the kid woke me I hustled up my intentions." The +bad man looked at Dave's weapon with the flicker of a smile on his face. +"He called it a popgun. I took notice it was a right busy li'l' +plaything. But you got yore nerve all right. I'd say you hadn't a chance +in a thousand. You played yore hand fine, keelin' over so's he'd come +clost enough for you to get a crack at him. At that, he'd maybe 'a' got +you if I hadn't drapped in." + +"Yes," said Sanders. + +He walked across to the corral fence, where Joyce sat huddled against the +lower bars. + +She lifted her head and looked at him from wan eyes out of which the life +had been stricken. They stared at him in dumb, amazed questioning. + +Dave lifted her from the ground. + +"I... I thought you... were dead," she whispered. + +"Not even powder-burnt. His six-shooter outranged mine. I was trying to +get him closer." + +"Is he...?" + +"Yes. He'll never trouble any of us again." + +She shuddered in his arms. + +Dave ached for her in every tortured nerve. He did not know, and it was +not his place to ask, what price she had had to pay. + +Presently she told him, not in words, without knowing what he was +suffering for her. A ghost of a smile touched her eyes. + +"I knew you would come. It's all right now." + +His heart leaped. "Yes, it's all right, Joyce." + +She recurred to her fears for him. "You're not ... hiding any wounds from +me? I saw you fall and lie there while he shot at you." + +"He never touched me." + +She disengaged herself from his arms and looked at him, wan, haggard, +unshaven, eyes sunken, a tattered wretch scarred with burns. + +"What have you done to yourself?" she asked, astonished at his +appearance. + +"Souvenirs of the fire," he told her. "They'll wash and wear off. Don't +suppose I look exactly pretty." + +He had never looked so handsome in her eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +JOYCE MAKES PIES + + +Juan Otero carried the news back to Malapi. He had been waiting on the +crest of the hill to see the issue of the adventure and had come forward +when Dave gave him a signal. + +Shorty brought Keith in from where he had left the boy in the brush. The +youngster flew into his sister's arms. They wept over each other and she +petted him with caresses and little kisses. + +Afterward she made some supper from the supplies Doble had laid in for +his journey south. The men went down to the creek, where they bathed and +washed their wounds. Darkness had not yet fallen when they went to sleep, +all of them exhausted by the strain through which they had passed. + +Not until the cold crystal dawn did they awaken. Joyce was the first up. +She had breakfast well under way before she had Keith call the still +sleeping men. With the power of quick recuperation which an outdoor life +had given them, both Shorty and Dave were fit for any exertion again, +though Sanders was still suffering from his burns. + +After they had eaten they saddled. Shorty gave them a casual nod of +farewell. + +"Tell Applegate to look me up in Mexico if he wants me," he said. + +Joyce would not let it go at that. She made him shake hands. He was in +the saddle, and her eyes lifted to his and showered gratitude on him. + +"We'll never forget you--never," she promised. "And we do so hope you'll +be prosperous and happy." + +He grinned down at her sheepishly. "Same to you, Miss," he said; and +added, with a flash of audacity, "To you and Dave both." + +He headed south, the others north. + +From the hilltop Dave looked back at the squat figure steadily +diminishing with distance. Shorty was moving toward Mexico, unhasting and +with a certain sureness of purpose characteristic of him. + +Joyce smiled. It was the first signal of unquenchable youth she had +flashed since she had been trapped into this terrible adventure. "I +believe you admire him, Dave," she mocked. "You're just as grateful to +him as I am, but you won't admit it. He's not a bad man at all, really." + +"He's a good man gone bad. But I'll say this for Shorty. He's some _man_. +He'll do to ride the river with." + +"Yes." + +"At the fire he was the best fighter in my gang--saved one of the boys +at the risk of his own life. Shorty's no quitter." + +She shut her teeth on a little wave of emotion. Then, "I'm awful sorry +for him," she said. + +He nodded appreciation of her feeling. "I know, but you don't need to +worry any. He'll not worry about himself. He's sufficient, and he'll get +along." + +They put their horses to the trail again. + +Crawford met them some miles nearer town. He had been unable to wait for +their arrival. Neither he nor the children could restrain their emotion +at sight of each other. Dave felt they might like to be alone and he left +the party, to ride across to the tendejon with Bonita's bulldog revolver. + +That young woman met him in front of the house. She was eager for news. +Sanders told her what had taken place. They spoke in her tongue. + +"And Juan--is it all right about him?" she asked. + +"Juan has wiped the slate clean. Mr. Crawford wants to know when Bonita +is to be married. He has a wedding present for her." + +She was all happy smiles when he left her. + +Late that afternoon Bob Hart reached town. He and Dave were alone in the +Jackpot offices when the latter forced himself to open a subject that had +always been closed between them. Sanders came to it reluctantly. No man +had ever found a truer friend than he in Bob Hart. The thing he was going +to do seemed almost like a stab in the back. + +"How about you and Joyce, Bob?" he asked abruptly. + +The eyes of the two met and held. "What about us, Dave?" + +"It's like this," Sanders said, flushed and embarrassed. "You were here +first. You're entitled to first chance. I meant to keep out of it, but +things have come up in spite of me. I want to do whatever seems right to +you. My idea is to go away till--till you've settled how you stand with +her. Is that fair?" + +Bob smiled, ruefully. "Fair enough, old-timer. But no need of it. I never +had a chance with Joyce, not a dead man's look-in. Found that out before +ever you came home. The field's clear far as I'm concerned. Hop to it an' +try yore luck." + +Dave took his advice, within the hour. He found Joyce at home in the +kitchen. She was making pies energetically. The sleeves of her dress were +rolled up to the elbows and there was a dab of flour on her temple where +she had brushed back a rebellious wisp of hair. + +She blushed prettily at sight of her caller. "I didn't know it was you +when I called to come in. Thought it was Keith playing a trick on me." + +Both of them were embarrassed. She did not know what to do with him in +the kitchen and he did not know what to do with himself. The girl was +acutely conscious that yesterday she had flung herself into his arms +without shame. + +"I'll go right on with my pies if you don't mind," she said. "I can talk +while I work." + +"Yes." + +But neither of them talked. She rolled pie-crust while the silence grew +significant. + +"Are your burns still painful?" she asked at last, to make talk. + +"Yes--no. Beg pardon, I--I was thinking of something else." + +Joyce flashed one swift look at him. She knew that an emotional crisis +was upon her. He was going to brush aside the barriers between them. Her +pulses began to beat fast. There was the crash of music in her blood. + +"I've got to tell you, Joyce," he said abruptly. "It's been a fight for +me ever since I came home. I love you. I think I always have--even when +I was in prison." + +She waited, the eyes in her lovely, flushed face shining. + +"I had no right to think of you then," he went on. "I kept away from you. +I crushed down hope. I nursed my bitterness to prove to me there could +never be anything between us. Then Miller confessed and--and we took our +walk over the hills. After that the sun shone. I came out from the mists +where I had been living." + +"I'm glad," she said in a low voice. "But Miller's confession made no +difference in my thought of you. I didn't need that to know you." + +"But I couldn't come to you even then. I knew how Bob Hart felt, and +after all he'd done for me it was fair he should have first chance." + +She looked at him, smiling shyly. "You're very generous." + +"No. I thought you cared for him. It seemed to me any woman must. There +aren't many men like Bob." + +"Not many," she agreed. "But I couldn't love Bob because"--her steadfast +eyes met his bravely--"because of another man. Always have loved him, +ever since that night years ago when he saved my father's life. Do you +really truly love me, Dave?" + +"God knows I do," he said, almost in a whisper. + +"I'm glad--oh, awf'ly glad." She gave him her hands, tears in her soft +brown eyes. "Because I've been waiting for you so long. I didn't know +whether you ever were coming to me." + +Crawford found them there ten minutes later. He was looking for Joyce to +find him a collar-button that was missing. + +"Dawggone my hide!" he fumed, and stopped abruptly, the collar-button +forgotten. + +Joyce flew out of Dave's arms into her father's. + +"Oh, Daddy, Daddy, I'm so happy," she whispered from the depths of his +shoulder. + +The cattleman looked at Dave, and his rough face worked. "Boy, you're +in luck. Be good to her, or I'll skin you alive." He added, by way of +softening this useless threat, "I'd rather it was you than anybody on +earth, Dave." + +The young man looked at her, his Joy-in-life, the woman who had brought +him back to youth and happiness, and he answered with a surge of emotion: + +"I'll sure try." + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gunsight Pass, by William MacLeod Raine + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GUNSIGHT PASS *** + +***** This file should be named 14574.txt or 14574.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/5/7/14574/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Beginners Projects, Mary Meehan, and the +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. 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