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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/16597-8.txt b/16597-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c1a74ba --- /dev/null +++ b/16597-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8893 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Square Deal Sanderson, by Charles Alden +Seltzer, Illustrated by J. Allen St. John + + +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: Square Deal Sanderson + + +Author: Charles Alden Seltzer + + + +Release Date: August 25, 2005 [eBook #16597] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SQUARE DEAL SANDERSON*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 16597-h.htm or 16597-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/5/9/16597/16597-h/16597-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/5/9/16597/16597-h.zip) + + + + + +SQUARE DEAL SANDERSON + +by + +CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER + +Author of +The Boss of the Lazy Y, "Beau" Rand, "Drag" Harlan, The Ranchman, etc. + +Frontispiece by J. Allen St. John + +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers --- New York + +Published, March, 1922 + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Out of the valley went Streak, running with long, smooth +leaps.] + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I The North Trail + II A Man's Curiosity + III "Square" Deal Sanderson + IV In Which a Man Is Sympathetic + V Water and Kisses + VI Sanderson Lies + VII Kisses--A Man Refuses Them + VIII The Plotters + IX The Little Man Talks + X Plain Talk + XI The Ultimatum + XII Dale Moves + XIII A Plot that Worked + XIV The Voice of the Coyote + XV Dale Pays a Visit + XVI The Hand of the Enemy + XVII The Trail Herd + XVIII Checked by the System + XIX A Question of Brands + XX Devil's Hole + XXI A Man Borrows Money + XXII A Man from the Abyss + XXIII The Gunman + XXIV Concerning a Woman + XXV A Man Is Aroused + XXVI A Man Is Hanged + XXVII The Ambush + XXVIII Nyland Meets a Killer + XXIX Nyland's Vengeance + XXX The Law Takes a Hand + XXXI The Fugitive + XXXII Winning a Fight + XXXIII A Man Leaves Okar + XXXIV A Man Gets a Square Deal + XXXV A Deal in Love + + + + +Square Deal Sanderson + + +CHAPTER I + +THE NORTH RAID + +An hour before, Deal Sanderson had opened his eyes. He had been +comfortably wrapped in his blanket; his head had been resting on a saddle +seat. His sleep over, he had discovered that the saddle seat felt hard +to his cheek. In changing his position he had awakened. His face toward +the east, he had seen a gray streak widening on the horizon--a herald of +the dawn. + +Sanderson found what seemed to be a softer spot on the saddle, snuggled +himself in the blanket, and went to sleep again. Of course he had not +neglected to take one sweeping glance around the camp while awake, and +that one glance had convinced him that the camp was in order. + +The fire had long since gone out--there was a heap of white ashes to mark +the spot where it had been. His big brown horse--Streak--unencumbered by +rope or leather, was industriously cropping the dew-laden blades of some +bunch-grass within a dozen yards of him; and the mighty desolation of the +place was as complete as it had seemed when he had pitched his camp the +night before. + +Sanderson reveled in the luxury of complete idleness. He grinned at the +widening streak of dawn as he closed his eyes. There would be no +vitriolic-voiced cook to bawl commands at him _this_ morning. And no +sour-faced range boss to issue curt orders. + +In an hour or so--perhaps in two hours--Sanderson would crawl out of his +blanket, get his own breakfast, and ride northeastward. He was a free +agent now, and would be until he rode in to the Double A to assume his +new duties. + +Judging by the light, Sanderson had slept a full hour when he again +awakened. He stretched, yawned, and grinned at the brown horse. + +"You're still a-goin' it, Streak, eh?" he said, aloud. "I'd say you've +got a medium appetite. There's times when I envy you quite considerable." + +Reluctantly Sanderson sat up and looked around. He had pitched his camp +at the edge of a thicket of alder and aspen near a narrow stream of water +in a big arroyo. Fifty feet from the camp rose the sloping north wall of +the arroyo, with some dwarf spruce trees fringing its edge. Sanderson +had taken a look at the section of country visible from the arroyo edge +before pitching his camp. There were featureless sand hills and a wide +stretch of desert. + +Sanderson started to get to his feet. Then he sat down again, stiffening +slowly, his right hand slipping quickly to the butt of the pistol at his +right hip. His chin went forward, his lips straightened, and his eyes +gleamed with cold alertness. + +A horseman had appeared from somewhere in the vast space beyond the +arroyo edge. Sanderson saw the outlines of animal and rider as they +appeared for an instant, partly screened from him by the trees and +undergrowth on the arroyo edge. Then horse and rider vanished, going +northward, away from the arroyo, silently, swiftly. + +Schooled to caution by his long experience in a section of country where +violence and sudden death were not even noteworthy incidents of life, and +where a man's safety depended entirely upon his own vigilance and wisdom, +Sanderson got up carefully, making no noise, slipped around the thicket +of alder, crouched behind a convenient rock, huge and jagged, and waited. + +Perhaps the incident was closed. The rider might be innocent of any evil +intentions; he might by this time be riding straight away from the +arroyo. That was for Sanderson to determine. + +The rider of the horse--a black one--had seemed to be riding stealthily, +leaning forward over the black horse's mane as though desirous of +concealing his movements as much as possible. From whom? + +It had seemed that he feared Sanderson would see him; that he had +misjudged his distance from the gully--thinking he was far enough away to +escape observation, and yet not quite certain, crouching in the saddle to +be on the safe side in case he was nearer than he had thought. + +Sanderson waited--for only a few minutes actually, but the time seemed +longer. Then, just when he was mentally debating an impulse to climb to +the top of the gully, to see if the rider was in sight, he heard a sound +as of a heavy body crashing through some underbrush, and saw two riders +skirting the edge of the arroyo near him. + +They halted their horses back of the spruce trees near the arroyo edge. +The rank undergrowth in the timber prevented them seeing Sanderson's +horse--which was further concealed by the thicket of alder. The men, +however, did not look into the arroyo. Their attention and interest +appeared to be centered upon the actions of the first horseman. Sitting +erect in their saddles, they shaded their eyes with their hands and gazed +northward. + +After a short look, one of the men laughed, unpleasantly. + +"Sneakin'--he is," said the one who laughed. "Knows we're campin' on his +trail, an' reckons on givin' us the slip. I never thought Bill would go +back on his friends thataway. We'll make him sweat, damn him!" + +The other cursed, also. "Hoggin' it, he is," he said. "I ain't never +trusted him. He won't divvy, eh? Well, he won't need it where he's +goin'." + +Both laughed. Then one said, coldly: "Well, I reckon we won't take +chances on losin' him again--like we did last night. We'll get him right +now!" + +They urged their horses away from the edge of the gully. Sanderson could +hear the clatter of hoofs, receding. He had heard, plainly, all the +conversation between the two. + +There was a grin of slight relief on Sanderson's face. The men were not +aiming at him, but at the first rider. It was clear that all were +concerned in a personal quarrel which was no concern of Sanderson's. It +was also apparent to Sanderson that the two men who had halted at the +edge of the arroyo were not of the type that contributed to the peace and +order of the country. + +Plainly, they were of the lower strata of riffraff which had drifted into +the West to exact its toll from a people who could not claim the +protection of a law that was remote and impotent. + +Sanderson suspected that the first rider had been concerned in some +lawless transaction with the other two, and that the first rider had +decamped with the entire spoils. That much was indicated by the words of +the two. Dire punishment for the first man was imminent. + +Sanderson had no sympathy for the first rider. He felt, though, a slight +curiosity over the probable outcome of the affair, and so, working +rapidly, he broke camp, threw saddle and bridle on the white horse, +strapped his slicker to the cantle of the saddle, and rode the brown +horse up the slope of the arroyo, taking the direction in which the three +men had disappeared. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A MAN'S CURIOSITY + +By the time Sanderson urged the brown horse up the crest of the slope, +the men he had determined to follow were far out in the desert. +Sanderson could see them, though the distance was considerable, riding +the crest of a ridge, directly northeastward. As that was following +the general direction in which Sanderson wanted to travel he was highly +pleased. + +"They're company," he told himself as he rode; "an' I've been a heap +lonesome." + +The men were not traveling fast. At times, when the first rider was +compelled to traverse high ground, Sanderson could see him--horse and +rider faintly outlined against the sky. Sanderson would note the +figure of the first rider, then watch the point at which the first +rider appeared until the others reached that point. Then, noting the +elapsed time, he could estimate the distance at which the pursuers +followed. + +"I reckon they're gainin' on him," was Sanderson's mental comment when +an hour later he saw the first rider appear for a moment on the sky +line, vanish, reappear for an instant, only to be followed within a few +minutes by the figures of the other men. + +Sanderson was closing up the space that separated him from the two men, +and by that medium he knew they were not traveling rapidly, for the +brown horse was loping slowly. Thus he knew that the first man was not +yet aware that he was being followed. + +But some time later to Sanderson's ears was borne the faint, muffled +report of a firearm, and he smiled solemnly. + +"That first guy will know, now," he told himself. Sanderson kept +steadily on. In half an hour he heard half a dozen rifle reports in +quick succession, He could see the smoke puffs of the weapons, and he +knew the pursuit was over. + +The second riders had brought the first to bay in a section of broken +country featured by small, rock-strewn hills. By watching the smoke +balloon upward, Sanderson could determine the location of the men. + +It seemed to Sanderson that the two had separated, one swinging +westward and the other eastward, in an endeavor to render hazardous any +concealment the other might find. It was the old game of getting an +enemy between two fires, and Sanderson's lips curved with an +appreciative grin as he noted the fact. + +"Old-timers," he said. + +It was not Sanderson's affair. He told himself that many times as he +rode slowly forward. To his knowledge the country was cursed with too +many men of the type the two appeared to be; and as he had no doubt +that the other man was of that type also, they would be doing the +country a service were they to annihilate one another. + +Sanderson, though, despite his conviction, felt a pulse of sympathy for +the first rider. It was that emotion which impelled him to keep going +cautiously forward when, by all the rules of life in that country, he +should have stood at a distance to allow the men to fight it out among +themselves. + +Sanderson's interest grew as the fight progressed. When he had +approached as far as he safely could without endangering his own life +and that of Streak, he dismounted at the bottom of a small hill, +trailed the reins over Streak's head and, carrying his rifle, made his +way stealthily to the crest of the hill. There, concealed behind an +irregularly shaped boulder, he peered at the combatants. + +He had heard several reports while dismounting and ascending the hill, +and by the time he looked over the crest he saw that the battle was +over. He saw the three men grouped about a cluster of rocks on a hill +not more than a hundred yards distant. Two of the men were bending +over the third, who was stretched out on his back, motionless. It +appeared to Sanderson that the two men were searching the pockets of +the other, for they were fumbling at the other's clothing and, +seemingly, putting something into their own pockets. + +Sanderson scowled. Now that the fight was over, he was at liberty to +investigate; the ethics of life in the country did not forbid +that--though many men had found it as dangerous as interference. + +Sanderson stood up, within full view of the two men, and hailed them. + +"What's bitin' you guys?" he said. + +The two men wheeled, facing Sanderson. The latter's answer came in the +shape of a rifle bullet, the weapon fired from the hip of one of the +men--a snapshot. + +Sanderson had observed the movement almost as soon as it had begun, and +he threw himself head-long behind the shelter of the rock at his side +as the bullet droned over his head. + +If Sanderson had entertained any thought of the two men being +representatives of the law, trailing a wrongdoer, that thought would +have been dispelled by the action of the men in shooting at him. He +was now certain the men were what he had taken them to be, and he +grinned felinely as he squirmed around until he got into a position +from which he could see them. But when he did get into position the +men had vanished. + +However, Sanderson was not misled. He knew they had secreted +themselves behind some of the rocks in the vicinity, no doubt to wait a +reasonable time before endeavoring to discover whether the bullet had +accomplished its sinister object. + +Sanderson's grin grew broader. He had the men at a disadvantage. +Their horses, he had observed before calling to them, were in a little +depression at the right--and entirely out of reach of the men. + +To get to them they would have to expose themselves on an open stretch +between the spot where the horses were concealed and the hill on which +they were secreted, and on the open stretch they would be fair targets +for Sanderson. + +The men had brought Sanderson into the fight, and he no longer had any +scruples. He was grimly enjoying himself, and he laid for an hour, +flat on his stomach behind the rock, his rifle muzzle projecting +between two medium-sized stones near the base of the large rock, his +eye trained along the barrel, watching the crest of the hill on which +the men were concealed. + +The first man was dead. Sanderson could see him, prone, motionless, +rigid. + +Evidently the two men were doubtful. Certainly they were cautious. +But at the end of an hour their curiosity must have conquered them, for +Sanderson, still alert and watchful, saw a dark blot slowly appear from +around the bulging side of a rock. + +The blot grew slowly larger, until Sanderson saw that it appeared to be +the crown of a hat. That it was a hat he made certain after a few +seconds of intent scrutiny; and that it was a hat without any head in +it he was also convinced, for he held his fire. An instant later the +hat was withdrawn. Then it came out again, and was held there for +several seconds. + +Sanderson grinned. "I reckon they think I'm a yearlin'," was his +mental comment. + +There was another long wait. Sanderson could picture the two men +arguing the question that must deeply concern them: "Which shall be the +first to show himself?" + +"I'd bet a million they're drawin' straws," grinned Sanderson. + +Whether that method decided the question Sanderson never knew. He +knew, however, that a hat was slowly coming into view around a side of +the rock, and he was positive that this time there was a head in the +hat. He could not have told now he knew there was a head in the hat, +but that was his conviction. + +The hat appeared slowly, gradually taking on definite shape in +Sanderson's eyes, until, with a cold grin, he noted some brown flesh +beneath it, and a section of dark beard. + +Sanderson did not fire, then. The full head followed the hat, then +came a man's shoulders. Nothing happened. The man stepped from behind +the rock and stood out in full view. Still nothing happened. + +The man grinned. + +"I reckon we got him, Cal," he said. His voice was gloating. "I +reckoned I'd got him; he tumbled sorta offish--like it had got him in +the guts. That's what I aimed for, anyway. I reckon he done suffered +some, eh?" He guffawed, loudly. + +Then the other man appeared. He, too, was grinning. + +"I reckon we'll go see. If you got him where you said you got him, I +reckon he done a lot of squirmin'. Been followin' us--you reckon?" + +They descended the slope of the hill, still talking. Evidently, +Sanderson's silence had completely convinced them that they had killed +him. + +But halfway down the hill, one of the men, watching the rock near +Sanderson as he walked, saw the muzzle of Sanderson's rifle projecting +from between the two rocks. + +For the second time since the appearance of Sanderson on the scene the +man discharged his rifle from the hip, and for the second time he +missed the target. + +Sanderson, however, did not miss. His rifle went off, and the man fell +without a sound. The other, paralyzed from the shock, stood for an +instant, irresolute, then, seeming to discover from where Sanderson's +bullet had come, he raised his rifle. + +Sanderson's weapon crashed again. The second man shuddered, spun +violently around, and pitched headlong down the slope. + +Sanderson came from behind the rock, grinning mirthlessly. He knew +where his bullets had gone, and he took no precautions when he emerged +from his hiding place and approached the men. + +"That's all, for you, I reckon," he said. + +Leaving them, he went to the top of the hill and bent over the other +man. A bullet fairly in the center of the man's forehead told +eloquently of the manner of his death. + +The man's face was not of so villainous a cast as the others. There +were marks of a past refinement on it; as there were also lines of +dissipation. + +"I reckon this guy was all wool an' a yard wide, in his time," said +Sanderson; "but from the looks of him he was tryin' to live it down. +Now, we'll see what them other guys was goin' through his clothes for." + +Sanderson knelt beside the man. From an inner pocket of the latter's +coat he drew a letter--faded and soiled, as though it had been read +much. There was another letter--a more recent one, undoubtedly, for +the paper was in much better condition. + +Sanderson looked at both envelopes, and finally selected the most +soiled one. He hesitated an instant, and then withdrew the contents +and read: + + +MR. WILLIAM BRANSFORD, + +Tucson, Arizona. + +DEAR BROTHER WILL: The last time I heard from you, you were in Tucson. +That was ten years ago, and it seems an awful long time. I suppose it +is too much to hope that you are still there, but it is that hope which +is making me write this letter. + +Will, father is dead. He died yesterday, right after I got here. He +asked for you. Do you know what that means? It means he wanted you to +come back, Will. Poor father, he didn't really mean to be obstinate, +you know. + +I shall not write any more, for I am not sure that you will ever read +it. But if you do read it, you'll come back, won't you--or write? +Please. + +Your loving sister, + +MARY BRANSFORD. + +The Double A Ranch. + +Union County, New Mexico. + + +Sanderson finished reading the letter. Then folding it, he shoved it +back into the envelope and gravely drew out the other letter. It bore +a later date and was in the same handwriting: + + +MR. WILLIAM BRANSFORD, + +Tucson, Arizona. + +DEAR BROTHER WILL: I was so delighted to get your letter. And I am so +eager to see you. It has been such a long, long time, hasn't it? +Fifteen years, isn't it? And ten years since I even got a letter from +you! + +I won't remember you, I am sure, for I am only nineteen now, and you +were only fifteen when you left home. And I suppose you have grown big +and strong, and have a deep, booming voice and a fierce-looking +mustache. Well, I shall love you, anyway. So hurry and come home. + +I am sending you a telegraph money order for one thousand dollars, for +from the tone of your letter it seems things are not going right with +you. Hurry home, won't you? + +With love, + +Your sister, + +MARY. + + +Sanderson finished reading the letter. He meditated silently, turning +it over and over in his hands. The last letter was dated a month +before. Evidently Bransford had not hurried. + +Sanderson searched all the other pockets, and discovered nothing of +further interest. Then he stood for a long time, looking down at the +man's face, studying it, his own face expressing disapproval. + +"Mebbe it's just as well that he didn't get to the Double A," he +thought, noting the coarse, brutal features of the other. + +"If a girl's got ideals it's sometimes a mighty good thing the real guy +don't come along to disabuse them. William ain't never goin' to get to +the Double A." + +He buried the body in a gully, then he returned to the other men. + +Upon their persons he found about nine hundred dollars in bills of +small denomination. It made a bulky package, and Sanderson stored it +in his slicker. Then he mounted Streak, turned the animal's head +toward the northeast, and rode into the glaring sunshine of the morning. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"SQUARE" DEAL SANDERSON + +Three days later, still traveling northeastward, Sanderson felt he must +be close to the Double A. Various signs and conclusions were +convincing. + +In the first place, he had been a week on the trail, and estimating his +pace conservatively, that time should bring him within easy riding +distance of the place he had set out to seek. There were so many miles +to be covered in so many days, and Streak was a prince of steady +travelers. + +Besides, yesterday at dusk, Sanderson had passed through Las Vegas. +Careful inquiry in the latter town had brought forth the intelligence +that the Double A was a hundred and seventy-five miles northeastward. + +"Country's short of cow-hands," said Sanderson's informer. "If you're +needin' work, an' forty a month looks good to you, why, I'd admire to +take you on. I'm German, of the Flyin' U, down the Cimarron a piece." + +"Me an' work has disagreed," grinned Sanderson; and he rode on, +meditating humorously over the lie. + +Work and Sanderson had never disagreed. Indeed, Sanderson had always +been convinced that work and he had agreed too well in the past. +Except for the few brief holidays that are the inevitable portion of +the average puncher who is human enough to yearn for the relaxation of +a trip to "town" once or twice a year, Sanderson and work had been +inseparable for half a dozen years. + +Sanderson's application had earned him the reputation of being +"reliable" and "trustworthy"--two terms that, in the lexicon of the +cow-country, were descriptive of virtues not at all common. In +Sanderson's case they were deserved--more, to them might have been +added another, "straight." + +Sanderson's trip northeastward had resulted partly from a desire to +escape the monotony of old scenes and familiar faces; and partly +because one day while in "town" he had listened attentively to a desert +nomad, or "drifter," who had told a tale of a country where water was +to be the magic which would open the gates of fortune to the eager and +serious-minded. + +"That country's goin' to blossom!" declared the Drifter. "An' the guy +which gets in on the ground floor is goin' to make a clean-up! They's +a range there--the Double A--which is right in the middle of things. A +guy named Bransford owns her--an' Bransford's on his last legs. He's +due to pass out _pronto_, or I'm a gopher! He's got a daughter +there--Mary--which is a pippin, an' no mistake! But she's sure got a +job on her hands, if the ol' man croaks. + +"They's a boy, somewheres, which ain't no good I've heard, an' if the +girl hangs on she's due for an uphill climb. She'll have a fight on +her hands too, with Alva Dale--a big rough devil of a man with a greedy +eye on the whole country--an' the girl, too, I reckon--if my eyes is +any good. I've seen him look at her--oh, man! If she was any relation +to me I'd climb Dale's frame sure as shootin'!" + +There had been more--the Drifter told a complete story. And Sanderson +had assimilated it without letting the other know he had been affected. + +Nor had he mentioned to Burroughs--his employer--a word concerning the +real reason for his desire to make a change. Not until he had written +to Bransford, and received a reply, did he acquaint Burroughs with his +decision to leave. As a matter of fact, Sanderson had delayed his +leave-taking for more than a month after receiving Bransford's letter, +being reluctant, now that his opportunity had come, to sever those +relations that, he now realized, had been decidedly pleasant. + +"I'm sure next to what's eatin' you," Burroughs told him on the day +Sanderson asked for his "time." "You're yearnin' for a change. It's a +thing that gets hold of a man's soul--if he's got one. They ain't no +fightin' it. I'm sure appreciatin' what you've done for me, an' if you +decide to come back any time, you'll find me a-welcomin' you with open +arms, as the sayin' is. You've got a bunch of coin comin'--three +thousand. I'm addin' a thousand to that--makin' her good measure. +That'll help you to start something." + +Sanderson started northeastward without any illusions. A product of +the Far Southwest, where the ability to live depended upon those +natural, protective instincts and impulses which civilization frowns +upon, Sanderson was grimly confident of his accomplishments--which were +to draw a gun as quickly as any other man had ever drawn one, to shoot +as fast and as accurately as the next man--or a little faster and more +accurately; to be alert and self-contained, to talk as little as +possible; to listen well, and to deal fairly with his fellow-men. + +That philosophy had served Sanderson well. It had made him feared and +respected throughout Arizona; it had earned him the sobriquet +"Square"--a title which he valued. + +Sanderson could not have told, however, just what motive had impelled +him to decide to go to the Double A. No doubt the Drifter's story +regarding the trouble that was soon to assail Mary Bransford had had +its effect, but he preferred to think he had merely grown tired of life +at the Pig-Pen--Burrough's ranch--and that the Drifter's story, coming +at the instant when the yearning for a change had seized upon him, had +decided him. + +He had persisted in that thought until after the finding of the letters +in William Bransford's pockets; and then, staring down at the man's +face, he had realized that he had been deluding himself, and, that he +was journeying northeastward merely because he was curious to see the +girl whom the Drifter had so vividly described. + +Away back in his mind, too, there might have been a chivalrous desire +to help her in the fight that was to come with Alva Dale. He had felt +his blood surge hotly at the prospect of a fight, with Mary Bransford +as the storm center; a passion to defend her had got into his soul; and +a hatred for Alva Dale had gripped him. + +Whatever the motive, he had come, and since he had looked down into +William Bransford's face, he had become conscious of a mighty +satisfaction. The two men who had trailed Bransford had been +cold-blooded murderers, and he had avenged Bransford completely. That +could not have happened if he had not yielded to the impulse to go to +the Double A. + +He was glad he had decided to go. He was now the bearer of ill news, +but he was convinced that the girl would want to know about her +brother--and he must tell her. And now, too, he was convinced that his +journey to the Double A had been previously arranged--by Fate, or +whatever Providence controls the destinies of humans. + +And that conviction helped him to fight down the sense of guilty +embarrassment that had afflicted him until now--the knowledge that he +was deliberately and unwarrantedly going to the Double A to interfere, +to throw himself into a fight with persons with whom he had no previous +acquaintance, for no other reason than that his chivalrous instincts +had prompted him. + +And yet his thoughts were not entirely serious as he rode. The +situation had its humorous side. + +"Mostly nothin' turns out as folks figure in the beginnin'," he told +himself. "Otherwise everything would be cut an' dried, an' there +wouldn't be a heap of fun in the world--for butters-in. An' folks +which scheme an' plot, tryin' to get things that belong to other folks, +would have it too easy. There's got to be folks that wander around, +nosin' into places that they shouldn't. Eh, Streak?" + +Streak did not answer, and Sanderson rode on, smiling gravely. + +He made a dry camp that night in a sea of mesquite at the edge of a +sand plain, although, he knew he could not now be far from the Double A +range. And in the early light of the morning he found his judgment +vindicated, for stretching before him, still in a northeasterly +direction, he saw a great, green-brown level sweeping away from his +feet and melting into some rimming mountains--a vast, natural basin of +gigantic proportions. + +Sanderson was almost at the end of his journey, it was early morning, +and he was in no hurry. He leisurely prepared his breakfast, sitting +on a flat rock as he ate, and scanning the basin. + +Mere bigness had never impressed Sanderson; the West had shown him +greater vistas than this mammoth basin. And yet his eyes glowed as he +looked out and down at the country that lay, slumbering in the pure +white light of the dawn. + +He saw, dotting the floor of the basin, the roofs of houses. From his +height they seemed to be close together, but Sanderson was not misled, +and he knew that they were separated by miles of virgin soil--of +sagebrush and yucca, and soapweed and other desert weeds that needed +not the magic of water to make them live. + +When Sanderson finally mounted Streak, the sun was up. It took Streak +two hours to descend the slope leading down into the basin, and when +once horse and rider were down, Sanderson dismounted and patted +Streak's moist flanks. + +"Some drop, eh, Streak?" he said. "But it didn't fool us none. We +knowed it was some distance, didn't we? An' they ain't foolin' us +about the rest of it, are they? The Drifter said to head toward the +Big Peak. The Double A would be right near there--in the foothills. +Looks easy, don't it? But I reckon we'll have to hump ourselves to get +there by feedin' time, this noon, eh?" + +A little later, Streak having rested, Sanderson mounted and rode +forward, toward the peak of a majestic mountain that loomed far above +them. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +IH WHICH A MAN IS SYMPATHETIC + +It was shortly after noon when Sanderson, urging Streak to the crest of +an isolated excrescence of earth surrounded by a level of sage and +cactus, saw within several hundred yards of him a collection of +buildings scattered on a broad plain that extended back several hundred +yards farther until it merged into the rock-faced wall of a butte that +loomed upward many feet. + +Sanderson halted Streak on the hilltop to glance around. The +buildings, evidently, belonged to the Double A ranch, and the country +was all the Drifter had claimed for it. + +The big stretch of plain--in fact, the entire basin--could be made +fertile by the judicious use of water. Sanderson was not an engineer, +but he had sufficient natural knowledge of land to enable him to +distinguish good land from bad. Besides, near Phoenix he had inspected +a gigantic irrigation project, and had talked long with the engineer in +charge, and he had learned many things that would not have interested +the average cowpuncher. + +There was a break in the wall of the butte south of the group of +buildings, and out of the break Sanderson could see water tumbling and +splashing from one rock ledge to another until it rushed down, forming +quite a large stream as it struck the level and swirled hurriedly +between two sloping banks near the buildings. + +From where Sanderson sat on Streak he could look far back into the +break in the butte. The break made a sort of gorge, which widened as +it receded, and Sanderson suspected the presence of another basin +beyond the butte--in fact, the Drifter had told him of the presence of +another basin. + +"She'd make some lake, if she was bottled up!" was Sanderson's mental +comment after a long examination. + +His gaze became centered upon the buildings and the level surrounding +them. + +The buildings were ordinary, but the country was rugged and picturesque. + +Some foothills--which Sanderson had seen from the far side of the basin +that morning--rose from the level toward the south, their pine-clad +slopes sweeping sharply upward--a series of gigantic land waves that +seemed to leap upward and upward toward the higher peaks of some +mountains behind them. + +Northward, fringing the edge of the plain that began at the foothills +and stretched many miles, were other mountains; eastward the butte +extended far, receding, irregular, its jagged walls forming a barrier; +southwestward stretched the basin, in a gentle slope that was more +noticeable to Sanderson now than it had been while he had been riding +during the morning. + +The land around the buildings was fertile, for here was water which +could be utilized. The land over which Sanderson had been riding all +morning, though, was not so fertile; it needed the water that the +stream splashing out of the gorge could give it, with proper human +manipulation. + +All morning Sanderson's thoughts had dwelt upon the serious lack of +water in the basin. Now his thoughts grew definitely troubled. + +"There's goin' to be hell here--if this thing ain't handled right. The +Double A has got lots of water. The other fellows will be wantin' it. +They've got to have it." + +Sanderson finished his inspection of the place. Then he spoke to +Streak, and the big brown horse descended the slope of the hill, struck +the level, and cantered slowly toward the ranch buildings near the +river. + +Sanderson urged the brown horse toward the largest building of the +group, and as he rode he straightened in the saddle, rearranged his +neckerchief and brushed some of the dust from his clothing--for at this +minute his thoughts went to the girl--whom he now knew he had come to +see. + +Sanderson no longer tried to delude himself. A strange reluctance +oppressed him, and a mighty embarrassment seized him; his face grew +crimson beneath the coat of tan upon it, and his lungs swelled with a +dread eagerness that had gripped him. + +"I reckon I'm a damn fool!" he told himself as he forced Streak onward; +"I'm comin' here, not knowin' why, but still a-comin'." He grinned, +mirthlessly, but went forward. + +Heading toward the ranchhouse, he passed a huge building--the stable. +Swinging wide around one of its corners, he was about to ride onward +toward the ranchhouse, when out of the corners of his eyes he saw some +men and horses grouped in front of the stable. + +He pulled Streak up with a jerk, swung the animal's head around and +faced the group. There were five horses, saddled and bridled, standing +in front of the stable. Sanderson's eyes noted that in one swift +glance. But it was upon a man that Sanderson's gaze centered as Streak +came to a halt. + +The man dominated. There were other men standing in front of the +stable--and two women. But the man upon whom Sanderson's gaze rested +was the compelling figure. + +He was big--rugged, muscular, massive. He saw Sanderson at about the +instant Sanderson saw him, and he faced the latter, his chin thrusting, +his lips pouting, his eyes gleaming with cold belligerence. He wore a +gray woolen shirt, open at the throat, revealing a strong, wide chest. + +He was a tawny giant, exuding a force and virility and a compelling +magnetism that gripped one instantly. It affected Sanderson; the sight +of the man caused Sanderson's eyes to glow with reluctant admiration. + +And yet Sanderson disliked the man; he know instantly that this was +Alva Dale, concerning whom the Drifter had spoken; and the glow died +out of Sanderson's eyes and was replaced by the steady gleam of +premeditated and deliberate hostility. + +For an instant there was no word spoken; the glances of the two men +met, crossed, and neither man's eyes wavered. + +Then the big man spoke, gruffly, shortly, coldly: "What do you want?" + +Sanderson smiled faintly. "You runnin' things here?" he said, slowly. + +"Hell!" snarled the other, and stepped forward. + +"Because if you are," resumed Sanderson, his voice bringing the big man +to a halt, "you're the man I'm wantin' to do my gassin' to. If you +ain't runnin' things, why, I reckon you ain't in the deal at all." + +"Well, I'm runnin' things," sneered the other. "Tell me what you're +wantin' or pull your freight out of here, _pronto_!" + +"I'm sure some disturbed over my mistake," grinned Sanderson. "You +couldn't be anybody but Bransford, or you wouldn't shoot off your gab +that reckless. If you're Bransford, I'm apologizin' to you for talkin' +back to you. But if you ain't Bransford, get off your hind legs an' +talk like a man!" + +The big man stiffened, and his eyes glittered malignantly. He moved +his feet slightly apart and let his body fall into a crouch. He held +that position, though, not moving a finger, when he saw a saturnine +smile wreathe Sanderson's lips, noted the slight motion with which +Sanderson edged Streak around a little, caught the slow, gradual +lifting of Sanderson's shoulder--the right; which presaged the drawing +of the heavy pistol that swung at Sanderson's right hip. + +Both men held their positions for some seconds; and the slow, heavy +breathing of the big man indicated his knowledge of the violence that +impended--the violence that, plainly, Sanderson would not retreat from. + +Then the big man's body began to relax, and a tinge of color came into +his face. He grinned, malevolently, with forced lightness. + +"Hell," he said; "you're damned particular! I'm runnin' things here, +but I ain't Bransford!" + +"I was reckonin' you wasn't," said Sanderson, mockingly. He now +ignored the big man, and fixed his gaze on one of the women--the one he +felt must be Mary Bransford. + +He had found time, while talking with the big man, to look twice at the +two women--and he had discovered they were not women at all, but girls. +More, he had discovered that one of them looked as he had pictured her +many times during the days since he had heard of her from the Drifter. + +She was standing slightly aside from the men--and from the other girl. +She was pale, her eyes were big and fright-laden, and since Sanderson's +comings she had been looking at him with an intense, wondering and +wistful gaze, her hands clasped over her breast, the fingers working +stiffly. + +Sanderson colored as he looked at her; he was wondering what she would +say to him if she knew that he had come to the Double A purposely to +see her, and that seeing her he was afflicted with a dismayed +embarrassment that threatened to render him speechless. + +For she more than fulfilled the promise of what he had expected of her. +She was slightly above medium height, though not tall--a lissome, +graceful girl with direct, frank eyes. + +That was all Sanderson noted. Her hair, he saw, of course--it was done +up in bulging knots and folds--and was brown, and abundant, and it made +him gulp in admiration of it; but he could not have told what her +features were like--except that they were what he expected them to be. + +"I reckon you're Mary Bransford, ma'am?" he said to her. + +The girl took a step toward him, unclasping her hands. + +"Yes," she said rapidly, "It can't be that you--that you----" + +The big man stepped between the girl and Sanderson, pushing the girl +aside and standing before Sanderson. But he spoke to the girl. + +"Look here," he said shortly; "I don't know what you two are goin' to +palaver about, but whatever it is it's goin' to wait until what we set +about to do is done." He looked at Sanderson. "Stranger, we ain't got +no objections to you doin' all the lookin' you want to do. But keep +your trap shut. Now, Miss Bransford," he continued, turning to the +girl, "we'll get this trial over with. You say them steers which me +an' my boys brought over an' put into your corral is Double A +steers--that you're sure the brand is yours--an' the earmarks?" + +"Ye-es," returned the girl slowly and hesitatingly. + +While talking with Sanderson she had unclasped her hands, and now she +clasped them again, twining the fingers with a quick, nervous motion. +Again her eyes grew wide with fright, and Sanderson saw her looking at +the other girl--he saw the other girl stiffen and stand straight, her +lips curving scornfully as she returned Miss Bransford's gaze. + +Sanderson's lips straightened. And now for the first time he gravely +inspected the faces in the group near him. + +Two men--cowboys--who stood near the big man, were evidently the "boys" +referred to by the latter. Their faces were set and expressionless. +Between them stood a rugged, well-built man of about twenty-two or +three. His hands were tied behind him, a rope was around his neck, the +free end coiled in the hands of one of the two men. + +The young man's face was sullen, but his head was held very erect, and +his eyes were steady and unwavering as he watched the big man. + +The girl at whom Miss Bransford was looking stood near the young man. +Sanderson saw her turn from Miss Bransford and look at the young man +piteously, her lips quivering suspiciously. + +There was another man in the group--an under-sized fellow, pale, +emaciated, with big, troubled, and perplexed eyes. Sanderson saw that +his hands were clenched, and that his thin lips were pressed so tightly +together that they were blue and bloodless. + +This man stood slightly apart from the others, as though he had no part +in what was going on; though Sanderson could tell from his manner that +he was laboring under an intense strain. + +Miss Bransford and the big man were the opposing forces in what was +transpiring--Sanderson knew that from Miss Bransford's manner of +answering the big man's question. Her "yes" had been uttered +reluctantly. Her testimony was damaging--she knew it, and her +sympathies were with the young man with the rope around his neck. + +Sanderson knew nothing of the motives that were actuating the people of +this little drama, but he was entirely conscious of the visible forces +that were at work. + +Plainly, the big man had accused the captive of stealing cattle; he had +brought the supposed culprit to face the owner of the stolen stock; he +had constituted himself judge and jury, and was determined to hang the +young man. + +The two men with the big man were noncommittal. The pale, undersized +man was a mere onlooker whose sympathies were with the accused. Miss +Bransford would have been quite willing to have this young man escape +punishment, but she could not deny that the cattle in question belonged +to her. + +Sanderson was in doubt about the other young woman, though obviously +she was closely related to him--a wife, or sister--perhaps a sweetheart. + +Sanderson studied the young man's face, comparing it with the big +man's, and his lips stiffened. He backed Streak slightly and swung +crosswise in the saddle, intense interest seizing him. + +The big man grinned, first at Miss Bransford, and then at the other +girl. + +"I reckon that settles it," he said. "There don't seem to be nothin' +more to it. Miss Bransford says the cattle is hers, an' we found them +in Ben Nyland's corral. There ain't-----" + +"Alva Dale, you are a sneak and a liar!" + +This was the girl. She had stepped forward until she was within a +short pace from the big man. She stood erect, rigid, her hands +clenched at her sides; her chin lifted, her eyes flashing with defiant +passion. + +Dale smirked at her. + +"Peggy Nyland," he said, "you're handin' it to me pretty strong, ain't +you? You'd fight for your brother's life, of course. But I represent +the law here, an' I've got to do my duty. You won't deny that we found +them steers in your brother's corral?" + +"No, I can't deny that!" declared the girl passionately. "You found +them there. They were there. But Ben did not put them there. Shall I +tell you who did? It was you! I heard a noise in the corral during +the night--last night! But I--thought it was just our own cattle. And +I did not go out to see. + +"Oh, how I wish I had! But Ben didn't put the Double A cattle in the +corral, for Ben was in the house all the time. He went to bed when I +did, and I saw him, sleeping in his bunk, when the noise awakened me!" + +The girl stepped closer to Dale, her voice vibrating with scorn and +loathing. + +"If you didn't put the steers in our corral, you know who did, Alva +Dale," she went on. "And you know why they were put there! You didn't +do it because you wanted Ben's land--as I've heard you have said; you +did it to get Ben out of the way so that you could punish me! + +"If I had told Ben how you have hounded me--how you have insulted me, +Ben would have killed you long ago. Oh, I ought to have told him, but +I was afraid--afraid to bring more trouble to Ben!" + +Dale laughed sneeringly as he watched the young man writhe futilely in +the hands of his captors. + +"Sounds reasonable--an' dramatic," he said. "It'd do some good, mebbe, +if they was any soft-headed ninnies around that would believe it. But +the law ain't soft-headed. We found them steers in Ben Nyland's +corral--some of them marked with Ben's brand--the Star--blottin' out +the Double A. An' Miss Bransford admits the steers are hers. They +ain't nothin' more to be said." + +"Yes, there is, Dale," said Miss Bransford. "It is quite evident there +has been a mistake made. I am willing to believe Peggy Nyland when she +says Ben was asleep in the cabin all night--with her. At any rate, I +don't want any hanging over a few cattle. I want you to let Ben Nyland +go." + +Dale wheeled and faced Miss Bransford. His face reddened angrily, but +he managed to smile. + +"It's too late, Miss Bransford. The evidence is all in. There's got +to be rules to govern such cases as this. Because you own the steers +is no sign you've got a right to defeat the aims of justice. I'd like +mighty well to accommodate you, but I've got my duty to consider, an' I +can't let him off. Ben Nyland has got to hang, an' that's all there is +to it!" + +There came a passionate outcry from Peggy Nyland; and then she had her +arms around her brother's neck, sobbing that she would never let him be +hanged. + +Miss Bransford's eyes were blazing with rage and scorn as they +challenged Dale's. She walked close to him and said something in a low +tone to him, at which he answered, though less gruffly than before, +that it was "no use." + +Miss Bransford looked around appealingly; first at the pale, anemic +little man with big eyes, who shifted his feet and looked +uncomfortable; then her gaze went to Sanderson who, resting his left +elbow on the pommel of the saddle, was watching her with squinting, +quizzical eyes. + +There was an appeal in Miss Bransford's glance that made the blood leap +to Sanderson's face. Her eyes were shining with an eloquent yearning +that would have caused him to kill Dale--if he had thought killing the +man would have been the means of saving Ben Nyland. + +And then Mary Bransford was at his side, her hands grasping his, +holding them tightly as her gaze sought his and held it. + +"Won't you please do something?" she pleaded. "Oh, if it only could +be! That's a mystery to you, perhaps, but when I spoke to you before I +was going to ask you if--if-- But then, of course you couldn't be--or +you would have spoken before." + +Sanderson's eyes glowed with a cold fire. He worked his hands free, +patted hers reassuringly, and gently pushed her away from Streak. + +He swung down from the saddle and walked to Dale. The big man had his +back turned to Sanderson, and when Sanderson reached him he leaned over +his shoulder and said gently: + +"Look here, Dale." + +The latter wheeled, recognizing Sanderson's voice and snarling into the +latter's face. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +Sanderson grinned mildly. "I reckon you've got to let Ben Nyland off, +Dale--he ain't guilty. Mebbe I ought to have stuck in my gab before, +but I was figurin' that mebbe you wouldn't go to crowdin' him so close. +Ben didn't steal no steers; he run them into his corral by my orders." + +Dale guffawed loudly and stepped back to sneer at Sanderson. But he +had noted the steadiness of the latter's eyes and the sneer faded. + +"Bah!" he said. "Your orders! An' who in hell are you?" + +"I'm Bill Bransford," said Sanderson quietly, and he grinned +mirthlessly at Dale over the two or three feet of space that separated +them. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +WATER AND KISSES + +For several seconds Dale did not speak. A crimson stain appeared above +the collar of his shirt and spread until it covered his face and neck, +leaving his cheeks poisonously bloated and his eyes glaring. + +But the steady eyes and the cold, deliberate demeanor of Sanderson did +much to help Dale regain his self-control--which he did, while Mary +Bransford, running forward, tried to throw her arms around Sanderson's +neck. She was prevented from accomplishing this design by Sanderson +who, while facing Dale, shoved the girl away from him, almost roughly. + +"There's time for that after we've settled with Dale," he told the girl +gruffly. + +Dale had recovered; he sneered. "It's easy enough to make a claim like +that, but it's another thing to prove it. How in hell do we know +you're Bill Bransford?" + +Sanderson's smile was maddening. "I ain't aimin' to prove nothin'--to +you!" he said. But he reached into a pocket, drew out the two letters +he had taken from the real Bransford's pocket, and passed them back to +Mary Bransford, still facing Dale. + +He grinned at Dale's face as the latter watched Mary while she read the +letters, gathering from the scowl that swept over the other's lips that +Mary had accepted them as proof of his identity. + +"You'll find the most of that thousand you sent me in my slicker," he +told the girl. And while Mary ran to Streak, unstrapped the slicker, +tore it open, and secured the money, Sanderson watched Dale's face, +grinning mockingly. + +"O Will--Will!" cried the girl joyously behind Sanderson. + +Sanderson's smile grew. "Seems to prove a heap, don't it?" he said to +Dale. "I know a little about law myself. I won't be pressin' no +charge against Nyland. Take your rope off him an' turn him free. An' +then mebbe you'll be accommodatin' enough to hit the breeze while the +hittin's good--for me an' Miss--my sister's sort of figurin' on a +reunion--bein' disunited for so long." + +He looked at Dale with cold, unwavering eyes until the latter, +sneering, turned and ordered his men to remove the rope from Nyland. +With his hands resting idly on his hips he watched Dale and the men +ride away. Then he shook hands mechanically with Nyland, permitted +Peggy to kiss him--which she did fervently, and led her brother away. +Then Sanderson turned, to see Mary smiling and blushing, not more than +two or three feet distant. + +He stood still, and she stepped slowly toward him, the blush on her +face deepening. + +"Oh," she said as she came dose to him and placed her hands on his +shoulders, "this seems positively brazen--for you seem like a stranger +to me." + +Then she deliberately took both his cheeks in her hands, stood on the +tips of her toes and kissed him three or four times, squarely on the +lips. + +"Why, ma'am--" began Sanderson. + +"Mary!" she corrected, shaking him. + +"Well, ma'am--Mary, that is--you see I ain't just----" + +"You're the dearest and best brother that ever lived," she declared, +placing a hand over his mouth, "even though you did stay away for so +many years. Not another word now!" she warned as she took him by an +arm and led him toward the ranchhouse; "not a word about anything until +you've eaten and rested. Why, you look tired to death--almost!" + +Sanderson wanted to talk; he wanted to tell Mary Bransford that he was +not her brother; that he had assumed the rôle merely for the purpose of +defeating Dale's aim. His sole purpose had been to help Mary Bransford +out of a difficult situation; he had acted on impulse--an impulse +resulting from the pleading look she had given him, together with the +knowledge that she had wanted to save Nyland. + +Now that the incident was closed, and Nyland saved, he wanted to make +his confession, be forgiven, and received into Mary's good graces. + +He followed the girl into the house, but as he halted for an instant on +the threshold, just before entering, he looked hack, to see the little, +anemic man standing near the house, looking at him with an odd smile. +Sanderson flushed and made a grimace at the little man, whereat the +latter's smile grew broad and eloquent. + +"What's eatin' him, I wonder?" was Sanderson's mental comment. "He +looked mighty fussed up while Dale was doin' the talkin'. Likely he's +just tickled--like the rest of them." + +Mary led Sanderson into the sitting-room to a big easy-chair, shoved +him into it, and stood behind him, running her fingers through his +hair. Meanwhile she talked rapidly, telling him of the elder +Bransford's last moments, of incidents that had occurred during his +absence from the ranch; of other incidents that had to do with her life +at a school on the coast; of many things of which he was in complete +ignorance. + +Desperate over his inability to interrupt her flow of talk, conscious +of the falseness of his position, squirming under her caresses, and +cursing himself heartily for yielding to the absurd impulse that had +placed him in so ridiculous a predicament, Sanderson opened his month a +dozen times to make his confession, but each time closed it again, +unsuccessful. + +At last, nerved to the ordeal by the knowledge that each succeeding +moment was making his position more difficult, and his ultimate pardon +less certain, he wrenched himself free and stood up, his face crimson. + +"Look here, ma'am----" + +"Mary!" she corrected, shaking a finger at him. + +"Mary," he repeated tonelessly, "now look here," he went on hoarsely. +"I want to tell you that I ain't the man you take me to be. I'm----" + +"Yes, you are," she insisted, smiling and placing her hands on his +shoulders. "You are a real man. I'll wager Dale thinks so; and Peggy +Nyland, and Ben. Now, wait!" she added as he tried to speak. "I want +to tell you something. Do you know what would have happened if you had +not got here today? + +"I'll tell you," she went on again, giving him no opportunity to inject +a word. "Dale would have taken the Double A away from me! He told me +so! He was over here yesterday, gloating over me. Do you know what he +claims? That I am not a Bransford; that I am merely an adopted +daughter--not even a legally adopted one; that father just took me, +when I was a year old, without going through any legal formalities. + +"Dale claims to have proof of that. He won't tell me where he got it. +He has some sort of trumped-up evidence, I suppose, or he would not +have talked so confidently. And he is all-powerful in the basin. He +is friendly with all the big politicians in the territory, and is +ruthless and merciless. I feel that he would have succeeded, if you +had not come. + +"I know what he wants; he wants the Double A on account of the water. +He is prepared to go any length to get it--to commit murder, if +necessary. He could take it away from me, for I wouldn't know how to +fight him. But he can't take it away from you, Will. And he can't say +you have no claim to the Double A, for father willed it to you, and the +will has been recorded in the Probate Court in Las Vegas! + +"O Will; I am _so_ glad you came," she went on, stroking and patting +his arms. "When I spoke to you the first time, out there by the +stable, I was certain of you, though I dreaded to have you speak for +fear you would say otherwise. And if it hadn't been you, I believe I +should have died." + +"An' if you'd find out, now, that I ain't Will Bransford," said +Sanderson slowly, "what then?" + +"That can't be," she said, looking him straight in the eyes, and +holding his gaze for a long time, while she searched his face for signs +of that playful deceit that she expected to see reflected there. + +She saw it, evidently, or what was certainly an excellent counterfeit +of it--though Sanderson was in no jocular mood, for at that moment he +felt himself being drawn further and further into the meshes of the +trap he had laid for himself--and she smiled trustfully at him, drawing +a deep sigh of satisfaction and laying her head against his shoulder. + +"That can't be," she repeated. "No man could deceive a woman like +that!" + +Sanderson groaned, mentally. He couldn't confess now and at the same +time entertain any hope that she would forgive him. + +Nor could he--knowing what he knew now of Dale's plans--brutally tell +her the truth and leave her to fight Dale single-handed, + +And there was still another consideration to deter him from making a +confession. By impersonating her brother he had raised her hopes high. +How could he tell her that her brother had been killed, that he had +buried him in a desolate section of a far-off desert after taking his +papers and his money? + +He felt, from her manner when he had tentatively asked her to consider +the possibility of his not being her brother, that the truth would kill +her, as she had said. + +Worse, were he now to inform her of what had happened in the desert, +she might not believe him; she might indeed--considering that he +already had dealt doubly with her--accuse him of being her brother's +murderer! + +Again Sanderson groaned in spirit. To confess to her would be to +destroy her; to withhold the confession and to continue to impersonate +her brother was to act the rôle of a cad. + +Sanderson hesitated between a choice of the two evils, and was lost. +For she gave him no time for serious and continued thought. Taking him +by an arm she led him into a room off the sitting-room, shoving him +through the door laughingly. + +"That is to be your room," she said. "I fixed it up for you more than +a month ago. You go in there and get some sleep. Sleep until dusk. +By that time I'll have supper ready. And then, after supper, there are +so many things that I want to say to you. So get a good sleep!" + +She closed the door and went out, and Sanderson sank into a chair. +Later, he locked the door, pulled the chair over near a window--from +which he got a good view of the frowning butte at the edge of the +level--and stared out, filled with a sensation of complete disgust. + +"Hell," he said, after a time, "I'm sure a triple-plated boxhead, an' +no mistake!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +SANDERSON LIES + +Sanderson did not sleep. He sat at the window all afternoon, dismally +trying to devise way of escape from the dilemma. He did not succeed. +He had gone too far now to make a confession sound reasonably +convincing; and he could not desert the girl to Dale. That was not to +be thought of. And he was certain that if he admitted the deception, +the girl would banish him as though he were a pestilence. + +He was hopelessly entangled. And yet, continuing to ponder the +situation, he saw that he need not completely yield to pessimism. For +though circumstances--and his own lack of foresight--had placed him in +a contemptible position--he need not act the blackguard. On the +contrary, he could admirably assume the rôle of protector. + +The position would not be without its difficulties, and the deception +meant that he could never be to Mary Bransford what he wanted to be to +her; but he could at least save the Double A for her. That done, and +his confession made, he could go on his way, satisfied that he had at +least beaten Dale. + +His decision made, Sanderson got up, opened the door a trifle, and +looked into the sitting-room. It was almost dusk, and, judging from +the sounds that reached his ears from the direction of the kitchen, +Mary intended to keep her promise regarding "supper." + +Feeling guilty, though grimly determined to continue the deception to +the end--whatever the end might be--Sanderson stole through the +sitting-room, out through the door leading to the porch, and made his +way to a shed lean-to back of the kitchen. + +There he found a tin washbasin, some water, and a towel, and for ten +minutes he worked with them. Then he discovered a comb, and a broken +bit of mirror fixed to the wall of the lean-to, before which he combed +his hair and studied his reflection. He noted the unusual flush on his +cheeks, but grinned brazenly into the glass. + +"I'm sure some flustered," he told his reflection. + +Arrayed for a second inspection by Mary Bransford, Sanderson stood for +a long time at the door of the lean-to, trying to screw up his courage +to the point of confronting the girl. + +He succeeded finally, and walked slowly to the outside kitchen door, +where he stood, looking in at Mary. + +The girl was working over the stove, from which, floating to the +doorway where Sanderson stood, came various delicious odors. + +Mary was arrayed in a neat-fitting house dress of some soft print +material, with a huge apron over it. Her sleeves were rolled slightly +above the elbows; her face was flushed, and when she turned and saw +Sanderson her eyes grew very bright. + +"Oh," she said; "you are up! I was just thinking of calling you!" She +ran to him, threw her arms around him, and, in spite of his efforts to +evade her, she kissed him first on one cheek and then on the other. + +Noting his reluctance she stepped back and looked reprovingly at him. + +"You seem so distant, Will. And I am so glad to see you!" + +"I ain't used to bein' kissed, I expect." + +"But--by your sister!" + +He reddened. "I ain't seen you for a long time, you know. Give me +time, an' mebbe I'll get used to it." + +"I hope so," she smiled. "I should feel lost if I could not kiss my +brother. You have washed, too!" she added, noting his glowing face and +his freshly combed hair. + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Mary!" she corrected. + +"Mary," grinned Sanderson. + +Mary turned to the stove. "You go out and find a chair on the porch," +she directed, over her shoulder. "I'll have supper ready in a jiffy. +It's too hot for you in here." + +Sanderson obeyed. From the deeply crimson hue of his face it was +apparent that the heat of the kitchen had affected him. That, at +least, must have been the reason Mary had ordered him away. His face +_felt_ hot. + +He found a chair on the porch, and he sank into it, feeling like a +criminal. There was a certain humor in the situation. Sanderson felt +it, but could not appreciate it, and he sat, hunched forward, staring +glumly into the dusk that had settled over the basin. + +He had been sitting on the porch for some minutes when he became aware +of a figure near him, and he turned slowly to see the little, anemic +man standing not far away. + +"Cooling off?" suggested the little man. + +Sanderson straightened. "How in hell do you know I'm hot?" he demanded +gruffly. + +The little man grinned. "There's signs. Your face looks like you'd +had it in an oven. Now, don't lose your temper; I didn't mean to +offend you." + +The little man's voice was placative; his manner gravely ingratiating. +Yet Sanderson divined that the other was inwardly laughing at him. +Why? Sanderson did not know. He was aware that he must seem awkward +in the rôle of brother, and he suspected that the little man had +noticed it; possibly the little man was one of those keen-witted and +humorously inclined persons who find amusement in the incongruous. + +There was certainly humor in the man's face, in the glint of his eyes, +and in the curve of his lips. His face was seamed and wrinkled; his +ears were big and prominent, the tips bending outward under the brim of +a felt hat that was too large for him; his mouth was large, and +Sanderson's impression of it was that it could not be closed far enough +to conceal all the teeth, but that the lips were continually trying to +stretch far enough to accomplish the feat. + +Sanderson was certain it was that continual effort of the muscles of +the lips that gave to his mouth its humorous expression. + +The man was not over five feet and two or three inches tall, and +crowning his slender body was a head that was entirely out of +proportion to the rest of him. He was not repulsive-looking, however, +and a glance at his eyes convinced Sanderson that anything Providence +had taken from his body had been added, by way of compensation, to his +intellect. + +Sanderson found it hard to resent the man's seeming impertinence. He +grinned reluctantly at him. + +"Did I tell you you'd hurt my feelin's?" he inquired. "What oven do +you think I had my head in?" + +"I didn't say," grinned the little man. "There's places that are +hotter than an oven. And if a man has never been a wolf with women, it +might be expected that he'd feel sort of warm to be kissed and fussed +over by a sister he's not seen for a good many years. He'd seem like a +stranger to her--almost." + +Sanderson's eyes glowed with a new interest in the little man. + +"How did you know I wasn't a wolf with women?" + +"Shucks," said the other; "you're bashful, and you don't run to vanity. +Any fool could see that." + +"I ain't been introduced to you--regular," said Sanderson, "but you +seem to be a heap long on common sense, an' I'd be glad to know you. +What did you say your name was?" + +"Barney Owen." + +"What you doin' at the Double A? You ought be herd-ridin' scholars in +a district schoolhouse." + +"Missed my calling," grinned the other. "I got to know too much to +teach school, but didn't know enough to let John Barleycorn alone. I'm +a drifter, sort of. Been roaming around the north country. Struck the +basin about three weeks ago. Miss Bransford was needing men--her +father--yours, too, of course--having passed out rather sudden. I was +wanting work mighty had, and Miss Bransford took me on because I was +big enough to do the work of half a dozen men." + +His face grew grave. Sanderson understood. Miss Bransford had hired +Owen out of pity. Sanderson did not answer. + +The little man's face worked strangely, and his eyes glowed. + +"If you hadn't come when you did, I would have earned my keep, and Alva +Dale would be where he wouldn't bother Miss Bransford any more," he +said. + +Sanderson straightened. "You'd have shot him, you mean?" + +Owen did not speak, merely nodding his head. + +Sanderson smiled. "Then I'm sort of sorry come when I did. But do you +think shootin' Dale would have ended it?" + +"No; Dale has friends." Owen leaned toward Sanderson, his face working +with passion. "I hate Dale," he said hoarsely. "I hate him worse than +I hate any snake that I ever saw. I hadn't been here two days when he +sneered at me and called me a freak. I'll kill him--some day. Your +coming has merely delayed the time. But before he dies I want to see +him beaten at this game he's tryin' to work on Miss Bransford. And +I'll kill any man that tries to give Miss Bransford the worst of it. + +"You've got a fight on your hands. I know Dale and his gang, and +they'll make things mighty interesting for you and Miss Bransford. But +I'll help you, if you say the word. I'm not much for looks--as you can +see--but I can sling a gun with any man I've ever met. + +"I'd have tried to fight Dale alone--for Miss Bransford's sake--but I +realize that things are against me. I haven't the size, and I haven't +the nerve to take the initiative. Besides, I drink. I get riotously +drunk. I can't help it. I can't depend on myself. But I can help +you, and I will." + +The man's earnestness was genuine, and though Sanderson had little +confidence in the other's ability to take a large part in what was to +come, he respected the spirit that had prompted the offer. So he +reached out and took the man's hand. + +"Any man that feels as strongly as you do can do a heap--at anything," +he said. "We'll call it a deal. But you're under my orders." + +"Yes," returned Owen, gripping the hand held out to him. + +"Will!" came Mary's voice from the kitchen, "supper is ready!" + +Owen laughed lowly, dropped Sanderson's hand, and slipped away into the +growing darkness. + +Sanderson got up and faced the kitchen door, hesitating, reluctant +again to face the girl and to continue the deception. Necessity drove +him to the door, however, and when he reached it, he saw Mary standing +near the center of the kitchen, waiting for him. + +"I don't believe you are hungry at all!" she declared, looking keenly +at him. "And do you know, I think you blush more easily than any man I +ever saw. But don't let that bother you," she added, laughing; +"blushes become you. Will," she went on, tenderly pressing his arm as +she led him through a door into the dining-room, "you are awfully +good-looking!" + +"You'll have me gettin' a swelled head if you go to talkin' like that," +he said, without looking at her. + +"Oh, no; you couldn't be vain if you tried. None of the Bransfords +were ever vain--or conceited. But they all have had good appetites," +she told him, shaking a finger at him. "And if you don't eat heartily +I shall believe your long absence from home has taken some of the +Bransford out of you!" + +She pulled a chair out for aim, and took another at the table opposite +him. + +Sanderson ate; there was no way out of it, though he felt awkward and +uncomfortable. He kept wondering what she would say to him if she knew +the truth. It seemed to him that had the girl looked closely at him +she might have seen the guilt in his eyes. + +But apparently she was not thinking of doubting him--it was that +knowledge which made Sanderson realize how contemptible was the part he +was playing. She had accepted him on trust, without question, with the +implicit and matter-of-fact faith of a child. + +He listened in silence while she told him many things about the +Bransfords--incidents that had occurred during his supposed absence, +intimate little happenings that he had no right to hear. And he sat, +silently eating, unable to interrupt, feeling more guilty and +despicable all the time. + +But he broke in after a time, gruffly: + +"What's the trouble between Dale and the Nylands?" + +Instantly she stiffened. "I forgot to tell you about that. Ben Nyland +is a nester. He has a quarter-section of land on the northwestern edge +of the basin. But he hasn't proved on it. The land adjoins Dale's. +Dale wants it--he has always wanted it. And he means to have it. He +also wants Peggy Nyland. + +"Dale is a beast! You heard Peggy tell how he has hounded her. It is +true; she has told me about it more than once. Dale hasn't told, of +course; but it is my opinion that Dale put the Double A cattle into +Ben's corral so that he could hang Ben. With Ben out of the way he +could take the Nyland property--and Peggy, too." + +"Why did he use Double A cattle?" + +Mary paled. "Don't you see the hideous humor of that? He knows Peggy +Nyland and I are friends. Dale is ruthless and subtle. Can't you +understand how a man of that type would enjoy seeing me send my +friend's brother to his death--and the brother innocent?" + +"Why didn't you tell Dale the cattle did not belong to you?" + +Mary smiled faintly. "I couldn't. To do so would have involved Ben +Nyland in more trouble. Dale would have got one of his friends to +claim them. And then I could have done nothing--having disclaimed the +ownership of the stock. And I--I couldn't lie. And, besides, I kept +hoping that something would happen. I had a premonition that something +_would_ happen. And something did happen--you came!" + +"Yes," said Sanderson inanely, "I came." + +He drew a large red handkerchief from a pocket and mopped some huge +beads of sweat from his face and forehead. When the handkerchief came +out a sheet of paper, folded and crumpled, fluttered toward the floor, +describing an eccentric circle and landing within a foot of Mary's feet. + +The girl saw that Sanderson had not noticed the loss of the paper, and +she stooped and recovered it. She held it in a hand while Sanderson +continued to wipe the perspiration from his face, and noting that he +was busily engaged she smoothed the paper on the table in front of her +and peered mischievously at it. And then, her curiosity conquering +her, she read, for the writing on the paper was strangely familiar. + +Sanderson having restored the handkerchief to its pocket, noticed +Mary's start, and saw her look at him, her eyes wide and perplexed. + +"Why, Will, where did you get this?" she inquired, sitting very erect. + +"Mebbe if you'd tell me what it is I could help you out," he grinned. + +"Why, it's a letter father wrote to a man in Tombstone, Arizona. See +here! Father's name is signed to it! I saw father write it. Why, I +rode over to Dry Bottom and mailed it! This man had written to father +a long time before, asking for a job. I have his letter somewhere. It +was the oddest letter! It was positively a gem of formality. I can +remember every word of it, for I must have read it a dozen times. It +ran: + + +"DEAR SIR: + +"The undersigned has been at the location noted below for a term of +years and desires to make a change. If you have an opening for a good +all-around man, the undersigned would be willing to work for you. If +you would want a recommendation, you can address Amos Burroughs, of the +Pig-Pen Ranch, near Tombstone, where the undersigned is employed. + +"Yours truly, + +"DEAL SANDERSON." + + +Mary leaned forward in her chair and looked at Sanderson with eager, +questioning eyes. Sanderson stared vacantly back at her. + +She held the letter up to him. "This is father's answer, telling the +man to come on. How on earth did you get hold of it?" + +Sanderson had slumped down in his chair. He saw discovery and disgrace +in prospect. In the total stoppage of his thoughts no way of escape or +evasion suggested itself. At the outset he was to be exposed as a +miserable impostor. + +He groaned, grinned vacuously at Mary, and again produced the +handkerchief, wiping away drops of perspiration that were twice as big +as those he had previously mopped off. + +Mary continued to stare at him, repeating the question: "How did you +get it?" + +Sanderson's composure began to return; his grin grew wider and more +intelligent, and at the sixth repetition of Mary's question he +answered, boldly: + +"I wasn't goin' to tell you about that. You see, ma'am----" + +"Mary!" + +"You see, Mary, I was goin' to fool Brans--dad. I wrote, askin' him +for the job, an' I was intendin' to come on, to surprise him. But +before I told him who I was, I was goin' to feel him out, an' find out +what he thought of me. Then I got your letter, tellin' me he was dead, +an' so there wasn't any more use of tryin' to fool him." + +"But that name, 'Sanderson?' That isn't your name, Will!" + +"It was," he grinned. "When I left home I didn't want anybody to be +runnin' into me an' recognizin' me, so I changed it to Sanderson. Deal +Sanderson." + +The girl's expression changed to delight; she sat erect and clapped her +hands. + +"Oh," she said, "I wish father was here to listen to this! He thought +all along that you were going to turn out bad. If he only knew! Will, +you don't mean to tell me that you are the Sanderson that we all know +of here--that nearly everybody in the country has heard about; the man +who is called 'Square Deal' Sanderson by all his friends--and even by +his enemies--because of his determination to do right--and to make +everyone else do right too!" + +Again Sanderson resorted to the handkerchief. + +"I don't reckon they've talked about me that strong," he said. + +"But they have! Oh, I'm so happy, Will. Why, when Dale hears about it +he'll be positively venomous--and scared. I don't think he will bother +the Double A again--after he hears of it!" + +But Sanderson merely smirked mirthlessly; he saw no reason for being +joyful over the lie he had told. He was getting deeper and deeper into +the mire of deceit and prevarication, and there seemed to be no escape. + +And now, when he had committed himself, he realized that he might have +evaded it all, this last lie at least, by telling Mary that he had +picked the note up on the desert, or anywhere, for that matter, and she +would have been forced to believe him. + +He kept her away from him, fending off her caresses with a pretense of +slight indisposition until suddenly panic-stricken over insistence, he +told her he was going to bed, bolted into the room, locked the door +behind him, and sat long in the darkness and the heat, filling the room +with a profane appreciation of himself as a double-dyed fool who could +not even lie intelligently. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +KISSES--A MAN REFUSES THEM + +There was a kerosene lamp in Sanderson's room, and when, after an hour +of gloomy silence in the dark, he got up and lit the lamp, he felt +decidedly better. He was undressing, preparing to get into bed, when +he was assailed with a thought that brought the perspiration out on him +again. + +This time it was a cold sweat, and it came with the realization that +discovery was again imminent, for if, as Mary had said, she had kept +Sanderson's letter to her father, there were in existence two +letters--his own and Will Bransford's--inevitably in different +handwriting, both of which he had claimed to have written. + +Sanderson groaned. The more he lied the deeper he became entangled. +He pulled on his trousers, and stood shoeless, gazing desperately +around the room. + +He simply must destroy that letter, or Mary, comparing it with the +letter her brother had written would discover the deception. + +It was the first time in Sanderson's life that had ever attempted to +deceive anybody, and he was in the grip of a cringing dread. + +For the first time since he occupied the room he inspected it, noting +its furnishings. His heart thumped wildly with hope while he looked. + +It was a woman's room--Mary's, of course. For there were decorations +here and there--a delicate piece of crochet work on a dresser; a sewing +basket on a stand; a pincushion, a pair of shears; some gaily +ornamented pictures on the walls, and--peering behind the dresser--he +saw a pair of lady's riding-boots. + +He strode to a closet door and threw it open, revealing, hanging +innocently on their hooks, a miscellaneous array of skirts, blouses, +and dresses. + +Mary had surrendered her room to him. Feeling guilty again, and rather +conscience-stricken, as though he were committing some sacrilegious +action, he went to the dresser and began to search among the effects in +the drawers. + +They were filled with articles of wearing apparel, delicately fringed +things that delight the feminine heart, and keepsakes of all +descriptions. Sanderson handled them carefully, but his search was not +the less thorough on that account. + +And at last, in one of the upper drawers of the dresser, he came upon a +packet of letters. + +Again his conscience pricked him, but the stern urge of necessity drove +him on until he discovered an envelope addressed to the elder +Bransford, in his own handwriting, and close to it a letter from Will +Bransford to Mary Bransford. + +Sanderson looked long at the Bransford letter, considering the +situation. He was tempted to destroy that, too, but he reflected, +permitting a sentimental thought to deter him. + +For Mary undoubtedly treasured that letter, and when the day came that +he should tell her the truth, the letter would be the only link that +would connect her with the memory of her brother. + +Sanderson could not destroy it. He had already offended Mary Bransford +more than he had a right to, and to destroy her brother's letter would +be positively heinous. + +Besides, unknown to him, there might be more letters about with Will +Bransford's signature on them, and it might be well to preserve this +particular letter in case he should be called upon to forge Will +Bransford's signature. + +So he retied the letters in the packet and restored the packet to its +place, retaining his own letter to Bransford. Smiling grimly now, he +again sought the chair near the window, lit a match, applied the blaze +to the letter, and watched the paper burn until nothing remained of it +but a crinkly ash. Then he smoked a cigarette and got into bed, +feeling more secure. + +Determined not to submit to any more of Mary's caresses, and feeling +infinitely small and mean over the realization that he had already +permitted her to carry her affection too far, he frowned at her when he +went into the kitchen after washing the next morning, gruffly replying +when she wished him a cheery, "Good morning," and grasping her arms +when she attempted to kiss him. + +He blushed, though, when her eyes reproached him. + +"I ain't used to bein' mushed over," he told her. "We'll get along a +heap better if you cut out the kissin'." + +"Why, Will!" she said, her lips trembling. + +She set them though, instantly, and went about her duties, leaving +Sanderson to stand in the center of the room feeling like a brute. + +They breakfasted in silence--almost. Sanderson saw her watching +him--covert glances that held not a little wonder and disappointment. +And then, when the meal was nearly finished, she looked at him with a +taunting half-smile. + +"Didn't you sleep good, Will?" + +Sanderson looked fairly at her. That "Will" was already an irritation +to him, for it continually reminded him of the despicable part he was +playing. He knew what he was going to say would hurt her, but he was +determined to erect between them a barrier that would prevent a +repetition of any demonstrations of affection of the brother and sister +variety. + +He didn't want to let her continue to show affection for him when he +knew that, if she knew who he really was, she would feel more tike +murdering him. + +"Look here, Mary," he said, coldly, "I've never cared a heap for the +name Bransford. That's why I changed my name to Sanderson. I never +liked to be called 'Will.' Hereafter I want you to call me +Sanderson--Deal Sanderson. Then mebbe I'll feel more like myself." + +She did not answer, but her lips straightened and she sat very rigid. +It was plain to him that she was very much disappointed in him, and +that in her mind was the contrast between her brother of today and her +brother of yesterday. + +She got up after a time, holding her head high, and left the room, +saying as she went out: + +"Very well; your wishes shall be respected. But it seems to me that +the name Bransford is one be proud of!" + +Sanderson grinned into his plate. He felt more decent now than he had +felt since arriving at the Double A. If he could continue to prevent +her from showing any affection for him--visible, at least--he would +feel that the deception he was practising was less criminal. And when +he went away, after settling the differences between Mary Bransford and +Dale, he would have less to reproach himself with. + +He did not see Mary again that morning. Leaving the dining-room, he +went outside, finding Barney Owen in the bunkhouse in the company of +several other Double A men. + +Owen introduced him to the other men--who had ridden in to the +ranchhouse the previous night, and were getting ready to follow the +outfit wagon down the river into the basin to where the Double A herd +was grazing. + +Sanderson watched the men ride away, then he turned to Owen. + +"I'm ridin' to Las Vegas, to get a look at the will, an' see what the +records have got to say about the title to the Double A. Want to go?" + +"Sure," the little man grinned. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE PLOTTERS + +Riding down the gentle slope of the basin, Alva Dale maintained a +sullen silence. He rode far in advance of the two men who accompanied +him, not listening to their voices, which occasionally reached him, not +seeming to be aware of their presence. + +Defeat had always brought bitterness to Dale; his eyes were glowing +with a futile rage as he led his men homeward. + +Dale's scheme to dispose of Ben Nyland had been carefully planned and +deftly carried out. He had meant to hang Nyland, take possession of +his property, and force Peggy to accept whatever conditions he cared to +impose upon her. + +The unlooked-for appearance of Mary Bransford's brother had disturbed +his plans. As a matter of fact, the coming of Bill Bransford would +make it necessary for Dale to make entirely new plans. + +Dale was puzzled. During the elder Bransford's last days, and for a +year or more preceding the day of Bransford's death, Dale had professed +friendship for him. The pretense of friendship had resulted profitably +for Dale, for it had enabled him to establish an intimacy with +Bransford which had made it possible for Dale to learn much of +Bransford's personal affairs. + +For instance, Dale had discovered that there was in Las Vegas no record +of Mary Bransford's birth, and though Bransford had assured him that +Mary was his child, the knowledge had served to provide Dale with a +weapon which he might have used to advantage--had not Bill Bransford +returned in time to defeat him. + +Dale had heard the story of the trouble between Bransford and his son, +Will; it was the old tale of father and son not agreeing, and of the +son leaving home, aggrieved. + +Dale had made it his business to inquire often about the son, and when +one day Bransford told him he had received a letter from his boy, Dale +betrayed such interest that the elder Bransford had permitted him to +read the letter. + +That had been about a year before Mary had written the letter that +Sanderson had found in one of Will Bransford's pockets. The letter +told of the writer's longing to return home. The elder Bransford +declared that his heart had not softened toward the boy and that he +would not answer him. Leaving Dale, Bransford had dropped the letter, +and Dale had picked it up. + +Dale still had the letter, and because of his pretended friendship for +the father he had been able to insinuate himself into Mary's good +graces. He had advised Mary to write to her brother, and he had seen +the letter from the younger Bransford in which the latter had told his +sister that he would return. + +After reading Will Bransford's letter, and learning from Mary that she +was sending a thousand dollars to her brother, Dale wrote to a friend +in Tucson. Dale's letter accompanied Mary's to the latter town, and +the evil-visaged fellow who received it grinned widely in explaining +the circumstance to two of his friends. + +"We'll git him, sure as shootin'," he said. "A thousand dollars ain't +a hell of a lot--but I've put men out of business for less!" + +Dale knew the man to whom he had written, and he had received a reply, +telling him that the job would be done. And that was why, when +Sanderson had calmly announced that he was Will Bransford, Dale had +been unwilling to believe his statement. + +Dale did not believe, now, that the man who had interfered to save +Nyland was Will Bransford. Dale rode slowly homeward, scowling, +inwardly fuming with rage, but unable to form any decided plan of +action. + +It was several miles to the Bar D, Dale's ranch, and when he arrived +there he was in an ugly mood. He curtly dismissed the two men who had +accompanied him and went into the house. Opening the door of the room +he used as an office, he saw a medium-sized man of fifty sitting in a +big desk chair, smoking a cigar. + +The man smiled at Dale's surprise, but did not offer to get up, merely +extending his right hand, which Dale grasped and shook heartily. + +"Dave Silverthorn, or I'm a ghost!" ejaculated Dale, grinning. "How in +thunder did you get here?" + +"Rode," smiled the other, showing a set of white, flashing teeth. "I +saw you pass the window. You looked rather glum, and couldn't see my +horse, I suppose. Something gone wrong?" + +"Everything," grunted Dale; "that confounded young Bransford has showed +up!" + +The smile left the other's face. His eyes glowed and the corners of +his mouth took on a cruel droop. + +"He has, eh?" he said, slowly. His voice was expressionless. "So that +lead has petered out." + +He puffed slowly at his cigar, studying Dale's face, while the latter +related what had occurred. + +"So Nyland is still at large, eh?" he remarked, when Dale had finished. +"Why not set a gunman on him?" + +Dale scowled. "There ain't a gunman in this section that would take a +chance on Nyland--he's lightning!" Dale cursed. "Besides, there ain't +no use in goin' after Nyland's place unless we can get the Double A." + +"Then there wasn't any use of going after it yesterday, or today, as +you did," said the other. "Unless," he added, looking intently at +Dale, "the sister has been on your mind some." + +Dale reddened. + +"I don't mind admittin' she is," he grinned. + +"Look out, Dale," warned the other; "there's danger there. Many a big +project has been ruined by men dragging a woman into it. You have no +right to jeopardize this thing with a love affair. Peggy Nyland is +desirable to a man of your intense passion, I suppose; but this project +is bigger than any woman's love!" + +"Bah!" sneered Dale. "I can 'tend to her without losin' sight of the +main object." + +"All right, then," laughed the other. "The success of this thing +depends largely on you. We can't do a thing with the Legislature; +these sagebrush fools are adamant on the question of water-rights, They +won't restrict an owner's right and title to possession of all the +water on his land. + +"And he can dam the stream as much as he pleases, providing he don't +cut down the supply that normally flows to his neighbors; and the gorge +doesn't supply any water to the basin, so that Bransford would be +justified in directing the gorge stream. + +"In other words, old Bransford's title to the land that the gorge runs +through is unassailable. There is only one way to get at him, and that +is in some way to get possession of the title." + +"That's tied up tighter than blazes," said Dale. "Record and all are +clear. An' there ain't no judge we can get at. But if young Bransford +hadn't come----" + +"Yes," smiled Silverthorn. "It's too bad. We had a man, ready to come +on at the word, to impersonate young Bransford. He would have stayed +here long enough to get a clear title to the Double A, and then he +would have turned it over to us for a consideration. It rather looks +as though we are stumped, eh?" + +Dale frowned. Then he got up, went to a drawer in the desk before +which Silverthorn sat, and drew out a letter--the letter young +Bransford had written to his father about a year before. + +"We've still got a chance," he told Silverthorn. And then he told the +latter of his suspicions about Sanderson. + +Silverthorn's eyes gleamed. "That's possible," he said, "but how are +you going to prove it?" + +"There's a way," returned Dale. He went to the door, and shouted the +names of two men, standing in the doorway until they came--the two men +who had accompanied him that morning. He spoke to them, briefly: + +"You're ridin' straight to Tucson as fast as your cayuses can take you. +You ought to make it in a week. I'll give you that long. Find Gary +Miller. Tell him I sent you, an' find out what he knows about young +Bill Bransford. Then hit the breeze back. If it takes you more than +two weeks I'll knock your damned heads off!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LITTLE MAN TALKS + +Mary Bransford spent the first day of Sanderson's absence in the +isolation of the parlor, with the shades drawn, crying. Her brother +had bitterly disappointed her. + +He had sent word by one of the men that he was going to Las Vegas to +look up the title to the property. She thought he might at least have +brought her the message personally. + +Mary told herself that she had not been unduly demonstrative, as +Sanderson had intimated by his actions. She had merely been glad to +see him, as any sister would be glad to see a brother whom she had not +seen for many years; and she assured herself that if he loved her as +she loved him he would not have resented her display of affection. + +That affection, though, troubled Mary. To be sure, she had never had a +brother about, to fuss over, and therefore she could not tell just how +deeply she should be expected to love the one whom Providence had given +her; but she was certain that she did not love him too much. + +For Sanderson was worthy of the full measure of any sister's love. +Big, handsome, vigorous, with a way about him that any woman must +admire, Mary felt he deserved all the affection she could bestow. + +Her wonder and perplexity came over a contemplation of the quality of +that love. Was it right that she should thrill so delightfully +whenever he came near her? And was it entirely proper for her to feel +that queer tingle of delight over the strangeness of it all? + +And did that strangeness result from the fact that she had not seen him +for years; or was there some truth in Dale's assertion that she was +merely an adopted daughter, and her love for Sanderson not merely the +love of a sister for a brother, but the love of a woman for a man? + +Had Sanderson taken that view of it? She thought he had; for she had +told him about Dale's assertion, and his constraint had begun shortly +after. + +She did not blame him a great deal--after she had thought it over. He +had done the manly thing, she divined, in not taking advantage of the +situation, and she believed she loved him more than ever because of his +attitude. But she felt that she had lost something, and the second day +had gone before she succeeded in resigning herself to the new state of +affairs. + +Nothing happened. Dale did not come near the ranchhouse. Mary rode +over to the Nyland ranch and had a long talk with Peggy, and Peggy told +her that she had not seen Dale. + +Ben Nyland had driven the Double A cattle over to their own range, and +so far as he was concerned the incident with Dale was closed. But, +Peggy told Mary, Ben was bitterly resentful, and had sworn that if Dale +bothered Peggy any more he would kill him. + +Mary, however, was not greatly interested in Peggy's recital. She sat +on a chair in the kitchen of the Nyland cabin, listening to Peggy, but +making no replies. And it was not until she was ready to go that Mary +revealed the real reason for her visit--and then she did not reveal it +to Peggy, but to her own heart. + +For she reddened when she asked the question: "I wonder if you feel +about Ben as I feel about my brother--that when you kiss him you are +kissing a strange man?" + +Peggy laughed. "You would feel that way, of course. For your brother +is almost a stranger to you." + +"And do you kiss Ben often?" asked Mary. + +"Ben doesn't like it," smiled Peggy. "He is like most other men--he +likes to kiss the daughters of other men, but he gets sulky and balky +when I want to kiss him. So I don't try very often. Your brother is a +fine, big fellow, but you will find before you have been around him +very long that he wants to do his kissing away from home." + +Mary laughed, and blushed again. "I have already discovered that," she +said. "But, Peggy," she added seriously, "I love him so much that +believe I should be jealous if I thought he kissed another girl!" + +Mary rode homeward, rather comforted over her visit. And during the +remaining days of Sanderson's absence she succeeded in convincing +herself that Sanderson's attitude toward her was the usual attitude of +brothers toward sisters, and that she had nothing of which to complain. + +On the seventh day Sanderson and Owen returned. + +Mary saw them ride in and she ran to the door and waved a hand to them. +Owen flourished his hat at her, but Sanderson only grinned. + +When Sanderson came in Mary did not attempt to kiss him, but she wanted +to when he seized her hand and squeezed it warmly. For it seemed to +her that he was troubled over something. + +She watched him narrowly for signs that would tell her of the nature of +the trouble, but when he went to bed she had learned nothing. + +At breakfast the next morning she asked him what he had discovered at +Las Vegas. He looked straight at her. + +"There is no record of your birth," he said. + +She paled. "Then Dale has grounds for his suspicion," she said in a +weak voice. + +"Because your birth was not recorded is no sign you are not a +Bransford," he said. "I'll tell you this," he added gruffly: "as a +sister you suit me from the ground up; an' I'll stick to you until hell +freezes over!" + +Not until that instant did she realize that she had entertained a fear +that Sanderson would believe as Dale believed, and in an excess of joy +over the discovery that he did believe in her she got up, ran around +the table, seized Sanderson by the shoulders and laid her cheek against +his. + +"You're a dear," she said, "and I don't care whether you like it or +not, I am going to kiss you!" + +"Just once," he said, blushing. + +She kissed him, and then leaned back, looking at him reprovingly. + +"You haven't returned a kiss I have given you!" she said. "And I want +you to!" + +"All right," he agreed, and this time the warmth of his response made +her draw a long, deep breath. + +Sanderson made his escape as soon as he decently could, and walked to a +corner of the pasture fence where he stood, one arm resting on the top +rail, his gaze on the basin. + +At the court in Las Vegas he had discovered that Bransford had made a +will, bequeathing the ranch to his son. The document had been recorded +only a few months before Bransford died, showing that he had at last +forgiven the boy. + +Sanderson had intended to take possession of the ranch, in an effort to +forestall any scheme Dale might have, and while in Las Vegas he had +applied to the court for permission to have the title transferred. And +then he had been told it would be necessary for him to file an +affidavit and proof establishing his identity. + +With Barney Owen looking on Sanderson was compelled to defer signing +the affidavit, for Sanderson remembered the letter from young +Bransford, bearing the younger Bransford's signature. The letter was +still in the dresser drawer in his room, and he would have to have it +beside him while he signed Bransford's name to the affidavit in order +to imitate Bransford's handwriting successfully. Therefore he asked +permission to take the affidavit home. + +Pocketing the paper, after receiving the necessary permission, +Sanderson caught Owen looking at him with a smile. He scowled at the +little man. + +"What's eatin' you?" he demanded. + +"Curiosity," said the other. "Don't tell me you're too bashful to sign +your name in public." + +They were mounting their horses when the little man spoke, and +Sanderson grinned coldly at him. + +"You're a whole lot longer on talk than I like any of my friends to +be," he said. + +"Then I'll cut out gassing promiscuous," grinned the latter. + +Sanderson was troubled over the situation. To successfully keep Dale +from attacking his title to the ranch he must sign the affidavit and +return it to the court. He must imitate Will Bransford's signature to +prevent Mary Bransford from suspecting the deception--for at any time +she might decide to go to Las Vegas to look over the records there. + +More, he must practice writing Bransford's signature until he could +imitate it without having to look at the original. + +Determined to go to work at the deception instantly, Sanderson returned +to the ranchhouse, slipped into his room and locked the door, opened +the drawer and took out the package of letters. + +The Bransford letter was missing! Half a dozen times he thumbed the +letters in the packages over before he would admit that the one for +which he was seeking was not there. + +He stood for a time looking at the package of letters, bitterly +accusing himself. It was his own fault if the whole structure of +deception tumbled about his ears, for he should have taken the letter +when he had had an opportunity. + +Mary Bransford had it, of course. The other letters, he supposed, she +cared less for than the one written by her brother. + +For the twentieth time since his arrival at the ranch, Sanderson had an +impulse to ride away and leave Mary Bransford to fight the thing out +herself. But, as before, he fought down the impulse. + +This time--so imbued was he with determination to heap confusion upon +Alva Dale's head--he stood in the center of the room, grinning +saturninely, fully resolved that if it must be he would make a complete +confession to the girl and stay at the Double A to fight Dale no matter +what Mary thought of him. + +He might have gone to Mary, to ask her what had become of the letter. +He could have invented some pretext. But he would not; he would not +have her think he had been examining her letters. One thing he could +do without confessing that he had been prying--and he did it. + +At dinner he remarked casually to Mary: + +"I reckon you don't think enough of my letters put them away as +keepsakes?" + +"Sanderson's or Bransford's?" she returned, looking at him with a smile. + +"Both," he grinned. + +"Well," she said, "I did keep both. But, as I told you before, I had +the Sanderson letter somewhere. I have been looking for it, but have +not been able to find it." + +Sanderson grinned faintly and wondered what she would say if she knew +what care he had taken to burn the Sanderson letter. + +"The letter you wrote as yourself--the Bransford letter--I have. It +was among a lot of others in the drawer of the dresser in your room. I +was looking them over while you were gone, and I took it." + +Sanderson had a hard time to keep the eagerness out of his voice, but +he did so: + +"You got it handy?" + +She looked straight at him. "That is the oddest thing," she said +seriously. "I took it from there to keep it safe, and I have mislaid +it again, for I can't find it anywhere." + +There was no guile in her eyes--Sanderson was certain of that. And he +hoped the letter would stay mislaid. He grinned. + +"Well, I was only curious," he said. "Don't bother to look for it." + +He felt better when he went out of the house and walked toward the +corral fence. He felt more secure and capable. Beginning with the +following day, he meant to take charge of the ranch and run it as he +knew it should be run. + +He had not been at the Double A long, but he had seen signs of +shiftlessness here and there. He had no doubt that since Bransford's +death the men had taken advantage of the absence of authority to relax, +and the ranch had suffered. He would soon bring them back to a state +of efficiency. + +He heard a step behind him, and looking over his shoulder he saw the +little man approaching. + +The little man joined Sanderson, not speaking as he climbed the fence +at a point near by and sat on the top rail, idly swinging his legs. + +Sanderson had conceived a liking for Owen. There was something about +the little man that invited it. He was little, and manly despite his +bodily defects. But there was a suggestion of effeminacy mingling with +the manliness of him that aroused the protective instinct in Sanderson. + +In a big man the suggestion of effeminacy would have been disgusting, +and Sanderson's first action as owner of the ranch would have been to +discharge such a man instantly. But in Sanderson's heart had come a +spirit of tolerance toward the little man, for he felt that the +effeminacy had resulted from his afflictions. + +He was a querulous semi-invalid, trying bravely to imitate his vigorous +and healthy friends. + +"Thinking it over?" he queried, looking down at Sanderson. + +"Thinkin' what over?" + +"Well, just things," grinned the little man. "For one thing, I suppose +you are trying to decide why you didn't sign your name--over in Las +Vegas." + +Sanderson grinned mildly, but did not answer. He felt more at ease +now, and the little man's impertinences did not bother him so much as +formerly. He looked up, however, startled, when Owen said slowly: + +"Do you want me to tell you why you didn't sign Will Bransford's name +to the affidavit?" + +Sanderson's eyes did not waver as they met Owen's. + +"Tell me," he said evenly. + +"Because you are not Will Bransford," said the little man. + +Sanderson did not move; nor did he remove his gaze from the face of the +little man. He was not conscious of any emotion whatever. For now +that he had determined to stay at the Double A no matter what happened, +discovery did not alarm him. He grinned at the little man, +deliberately, with a taunting smile that the other could not fail to +understand. + +"You're a wise guy, eh?" he said. "Well, spring it. I'm anxious to +know how you got next to me." + +"You ain't sore, then?" + +"Not, none." + +"I was hoping you wouldn't be," eagerly said the little man, "for I +don't want you to hit the breeze just now. I know you are not Will +Bransford because I know Bransford intimately. I was his chum for +several years. He could drink as much as I. He was lazy and +shiftless, but I liked him. We were together in Tucson--and in other +places in Arizona. Texas, too. We never amounted to much. Do you +need to know any more? I can tell you." + +"Tell me what?" + +"More," grinned the other man, "about yourself. You are +Sanderson--Deal Sanderson--nicknamed Square Deal Sanderson. I saw you +one day in Tombstone; you were pointed out to me, and the minute I laid +my eyes on you the day Dale tried to hang Nyland, I knew you." + +Sanderson smiled. "Why didn't you tell Mary?" + +The little man's face grew grave. "Because I didn't want to queer your +game. You saved Nyland--an innocent man. Knowing your reputation for +fairness, I was convinced that you didn't come here to deceive anybody." + +"But I did deceive somebody," said Sanderson. "Not you, accordin' to +what you've been tellin' me, but Mary Bransford. She thinks I am her +brother, an' I've let her go on thinkin' it." + +"Why?" asked the little man. + +Sanderson gravely appraised the other. "There ain't no use of holdin' +out anything on you," he said. His lips straightened and his eyes +bored into the little man's. There was a light in his own that made +the little man stiffen. And Sanderson's voice was cold and earnest. + +"I'm puttin' you wise to why I've not told her," he went on. "But if +you ever open your yap far enough to whisper a word of it to her I'm +wringin' your neck, _pronto_! That goes!" + +He told Owen the story from the beginning--about the Drifter, his +letter to the elder Bransford, how he had killed the two men who had +murdered Will Bransford, and how, on the impulse of the moment, he had +impersonated Mary's brother. + +"What are you figuring to do now?" questioned the little man when +Sanderson finished. + +"I'm tellin' her right now," declared Sanderson. "She'll salivate me, +most likely, for me lettin' her kiss me an' fuss over me. But I ain't +carin' a heap. I ain't never been no hand at deceivin' no one--I ain't +foxy enough. There's been times since I've been here when I've been +scared to open my mouth for fear my damned heart would jump out. I +reckon she'll just naturally kill me when she finds it out, but I don't +seem to care a heap whether she does or not." + +The little man narrowed his eyes at Sanderson. + +"You're deeply in love with her, I suppose?" + +Sanderson flushed; then his gaze grew steady and cold. "Up till now +you've minded your own business," he said. "If you'll keep on mindin' +it, we'll----" + +"Of course," grinned Owen. "You couldn't help loving her--I love her, +too. You say you're going to tell her. Don't do it. Why should you? +Don't you see that if you told her that her brother had been murdered +she'd never get over it? She's that kind. And you know what Dale's +scheme was, don't you? Has she told you?" At Sanderson's nod, Owen +went on: + +"If you were to let it be known that you are not Will Bransford, Dale +would get the property as sure as shooting. I know his plan. I +overheard him and a man named Dave Silverthorn talking it over one +night when I was prowling around Dale's house. The window of Dale's +office was wide open, and I was crouching outside. + +"They've got a man ready to come on here to impersonate Bransford. +They would prove his claim and after he was established he would sell +out to them. They have forged papers showing that Mary is an adopted +daughter--though not legally. Don't you see that if you don't go on +letting everybody think you are Bransford, Mary will lose the ranch?" + +Sanderson shook his head. "I'd be gettin' deeper an' deeper into it +all the time--in love an' in trouble. An' when she'd find out how I'd +fooled her all the time she'd hate me." + +"Not if you save the ranch for her," argued the little man. "She'd +feel badly about her brother, maybe, but she'd forgive you if you +stayed and beat Dale at his own game." + +Sanderson did not answer. The little man climbed down from the fence +and moved close to him, talking earnestly, and at last Sanderson +grinned down at him. + +"I'm doing it," he said. "I'll stay. I reckon I was figurin' on it +all the time." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PLAIN TALK + +Barney Owen had told Sanderson of his hatred for Alva Dale, but he had +not told Sanderson many other things. He had not told the true story +of how he came to be employed at the Double A--how Mary had come upon +him one day at a shallow crossing of the river, far down in the basin. + +Owen was flat on his stomach at the edge of the water, scooping it up +with eager handfuls to quench a thirst that had endured for days. He +had been so weak that he could not stand when she found him, and in +some way she got him on his horse and brought him to the ranchhouse, +there to nurse him until he recovered his strength. + +It had been while she was caring for him that she had told him about +her fear of Dale, and thereafter--as soon as he was able to ride +again--Owen took it upon himself to watch Dale. + +In spite of his exceeding slenderness, Owen seemed to possess the +endurance and stamina of a larger and more physically perfect man. For +though he was always seen about the ranchhouse during the day--helping +at odd jobs and appearing to be busy nearly all the time--each +succeeding night found him stealthily mounting his horse to ride to the +Bar D, there to watch Dale's movements. + +He had not been at the Bar D since the night before the day on which he +had left with Sanderson to go to Las Vegas, but on the second night +following his return--soon after dark--he went to the stable, threw +saddle and bridle on his horse, and vanished into the shadows of the +basin. + +Later, moving carefully, he appeared at the edge of a tree clump near +the Bar D corral. He saw a light in one of the windows of the +house--Dale's office--and he left his horse in the shadows and stole +forward. There were two men in the office with Dale. Owen saw them +and heard their voices as he crept to a point under the window in the +dense blackness of the night. + + +The men Dale had sent to Tucson had not required the full two weeks for +the trip; they had made it in ten days, and their faces, as they sat +before Dale in the office, showed the effects of their haste. Yet they +grinned at Dale as they talked, glowing with pride over their +achievement, but the word they brought to Dale did not please him, and +he sat glaring at them until they finished. + +"Gary Miller ain't been heard of for a month, eh?" he said. "You say +you heard he started this way? Then where in hell is he?" + +Neither of the men could answer that question and Dale dismissed them. +Then he walked to a door, opened it, and called to someone in another +room. Dave Silverthorn entered the office, and for more than an hour +the two talked, their conversation being punctuated with futile queries +and profanity. + +At ten o'clock the next morning Dale appeared at the Double A +ranchhouse. Apparently he was willing to forgive and forget, for he +grinned at Owen, who was watching him from the door of the bunkhouse, +and he politely doffed his hat to Mary Bransford, who met him at the +door of the ranchhouse. + +"Well, Miss Mary," he said, "how does it feel to have a brother again?" + +"It's rather satisfying, Dale," smiled the girl. "Won't you get off +your horse?" + +The girl's lips were stiff with dread anticipation and dislike. Dale's +manner did not mislead her; his forced geniality, his gruff heartiness, +his huge smile, were all insincere, masking evil. He seemed to her +like a big, tawny, grinning beast, and her heart thumped with +trepidation as she looked at him. + +"How's Nyland?" he asked, smiling hugely. "That was a narrow +squeak--now, wasn't it? For I found that Ben Nyland didn't brand them +cattle at all--it was another man, living down the basin. That nester +near Colby's. He done it. But he sloped before we could get a rope on +him. Had a grudge against Nyland, I reckon. Sorry it happened." + +Thus he attempted to smooth the matter over. But he saw that Mary did +not believe him, and his grin grew broader. + +"Where's brother Will this mornin', Mary?" he said. + +Sanderson appeared in the doorway behind Mary. + +"You could see him if you was half lookin'," he said slowly. + +"So I could," guffawed Dale. "But if there's a pretty girl around----" + +"You come here on business, Dale?" interrupted Sanderson. "Because if +you did," he went on before Dale could answer, "I'd be glad to get it +over." + +"Meanin' that you don't want me to be hangin' around here no longer +than is necessary, eh?" said Dale. + +"You've said a heap," drawled Sanderson. + +"Well, it won't take a long time," Dale returned. "It's just this. +I've got word from Las Vegas that you've swore to an affidavit sayin' +that you're Will Bransford. That's all right--I ain't got nothin' to +say about that. But there's a law about brands. + +"Your dad registered his brand--the Double A. But that don't let you +out. Accordin' to the law you've got to do your registerin' same as +though the brand had never been registered before. Bein' the only law +around here--me bein' a deputy sheriff--I've got to look out for that +end of it. + +"An' so, if you'll just sign this here blank, with your name and +address, specifyin' your brand, why, we'll call it all settled." + +And he held out a legal-looking paper toward Sanderson. + +Sanderson's lips straightened, for as his eyes met Dale's he saw the +latter's glint with a cold cunning. For an instant Sanderson +meditated, refusing to accept the paper, divining that Dale was +concealing his real purpose; but glancing sidewise he caught a swift +wink from Owen, who had drawn near and was standing beside a porch +column. And he saw Owen distinctly jerk his head toward the house. + +Sanderson stepped forward and took the paper from Dale's hand. Then he +abruptly strode toward the house, telling Dale to wait. + +Sanderson halted in the middle of the sitting-room as Owen entered the +room through, a rear door. Barney Owen was grinning. + +"Wants your signature, does he?" said Owen. He whispered rapidly to +Sanderson, and the latter's face grew pale and grim as he listened. +When Owen had finished he grinned. + +"Now we'll give him Will Bransford's signature--just as he used to +write it. I've seen it more times than any other man ever saw it, and +I can duplicate it to a flourish. Give me the paper!" + +He sat down at a table, where there was a pen and a bottle of ink and +wrote boldly: "Will Bransford." With a grin he passed the paper back. + +Sanderson stared, then a smile wreathed his lips, for the signature was +seemingly a duplicate of that which had been written at the bottom of +the letter Will Bransford had written to his father. + +On his way to return the paper to Dale, Sanderson paused to listen +again to Owen, who whispered to him. Sanderson stiffened, looked hard +at Owen, and then grinned with straight lips. In less than no time he +was out of the house and confronting Dale. + +He watched while the latter looked at the signature; he saw the +expression of disappointment that swept over Dale's face. Then +Sanderson spoke coldly: + +"Right and proper, eh, Dale? Now I'll trouble you for that letter that +my dad dropped about a year ago--the one you picked up. It was a +letter from me, an' dad had let you read it. Fork it over, or I'll +bore you an' take it from your clothes!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE ULTIMATUM + +Dale's face whitened; for a moment he sat rigid, staring, his eyes +boring into Sanderson's. Then he reached into a pocket, drew out a +dirty envelope, and threw it at Sanderson's feet. + +"You're a damned smart boy, ain't you, Bransford?" he sneered. "But +I'm out to get you--remember that!" + +"And you remember this, Dale!" + +Sanderson was at the head of the horse Dale rode. His eyes were +blazing with suppressed fury, brought on by the other's threat. +"There's goin' to be a new deal in the basin. From now on I'm runnin' +things--an' they're runnin' square! I ain't got any use for any law +but this!" He tapped the butt of his six-shooter significantly. "An' +if you go to gettin' mixed up with the Double A or the Nyland ranch +you'll get it--plenty!" + +Dale grinned, hideously. Then he kicked his horse in the ribs and rode +away. + +Mary Bransford had not moved from her position on the porch. Sanderson +watched Dale ride away, then he smiled at Mary and entered the house. +Mary followed him. She saw Owen standing in the sitting-room, and her +face showed her surprise. + +Sanderson explained. "Owen an' me framed up on Dale," he said. "You +saw it work." + +"You'll be careful, won't you, Will?" she said. + +"Deal," smilingly insisted Sanderson. + +"Deal," she repeated, giving him a look that made him blush. Then she +went into one of the other rooms, and Sanderson and Owen went outside. +At the corner of the stable Sanderson halted and faced Owen. + +"You've got some explainin' to do," he said. "How did you know Dale +had a letter from Will Bransford to his father; an' how did you know +that Dale wanted me to write my name on that brand-registering blank so +he could compare it with Will Bransford's name on the letter?" + +"Will Bransford told me he wrote such a letter; he showed me a letter +from his dad which told how he had dropped Will's letter and how Dale +had picked it up. Dale thought old Bransford hadn't seen him pick up +the letter--but Bransford did see him. And last night I was snooping +around over at the Bar D and I overheard Dale and Silverthorn cooking +up this deal." + +Sanderson grinned with relief. "Well," he said, "that name-signing +deal sure had me considerable fussed up." He told Owen of his mental +torture following the discovery of the letter that had disappeared from +the dresser drawer. "We've got to run together from now on," he told +Owen. "I'll be Bransford an' you'll be Bransford's name. Mebbe +between us we'll make a whole man." + +Over at the Bar D, Dale was scowling at Silverthorn. + +"He ain't Will Bransford," Dale declared. "He signed his name all O.K. +an' regular, just the same as it was on the letter. But just the same +he ain't a Bransford. There ain't no Bransford ever had an eye in him +like he's got. He's a damned iceberg for nerve, an' there's more fight +in him than there is in a bunch of wildcats--if you get him started!" + +"Just the same," smiled Silverthorn, silkily, "we'll get the Double A. +Look here--" And the two bent their heads together over Dale's desk. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +DALE MOVES + +A passionate hatred of Alva Dale was slowly gripping Sanderson. It had +been aroused on that first day of his meeting with the man, when he had +seen Dale standing in front of the stable, bullying Mary Bransford and +Peggy Nyland and her brother. At that time, however, the emotion +Sanderson felt had been merely dislike--as Sanderson had always +disliked men who attempted to bully others. + +Sanderson's hatred of Dale was beginning to dominate him; it was +overwhelming all other emotions. It dulled his sense of guilt for the +part he was playing in deceiving Mary Bransford; it made him feel in a +measure justified in continuing to deceive her. + +For he divined that without his help Mary would lose the Double A. + +Sanderson had always loved a fight, and the prospect of bringing defeat +and confusion upon Dale was one that made his pulses leap with delight. + +He got up on the morning following Dale's visit, tingling with +eagerness. And yet there was no sign of emotion in his face when he +sat with Mary Bransford at breakfast, and he did not even look at her +when he left the house, mounted his horse, and rode up the gorge that +split the butte at the southern end of the range. + +All morning he prowled over the table-land, paying a great deal of +attention to the depth of the gorge, estimating its capacity for +holding water, scanning the far reaches of the big basin carefully, and +noting the location of the buildings dotting it. + +Shortly after noon he rode back to the house and came upon Mary in the +kitchen. + +"I've put off askin' until now," he said while eating the food that +Mary placed before him. "How much money did dad leave?" + +"Not much," she said. "He was never very prosperous. It took a great +deal to send me to school, and the thousand I sent you I saved myself +out of the allowance he gave me. I think there are three thousand +dollars to father's credit at the bank in Okar." + +"Where's Okar?" + +She looked quickly at him. "Don't you remember Okar? That little town +just beyond the mouth of the basin? Why, you've been there a good many +times, Will, on errands for father. There wasn't much to Okar when you +were here--just a few shanties and a store. Surely you remember!" + +Sanderson flushed. "I reckon I do remember, now that you speak of it," +he lied. "But I don't think Okar has grown much." + +"Okar has grown to be an important town--for this locality," Mary +smiled. "You see, the railroad has made it grow. It is now quite +large, and has a bank and a dozen or more stores. It is a depot for +supplies for a big section, and the railroad company has built large +corrals there. A man named Silverthorn--and Alva Dale--are the rulers +of Okar, now." + +"Who is Silverthorn?" + +"He is connected with the railroad company--a promoter, or something of +that character. He is trying to make a boom town of Okar. He has +bought a great deal of land in the basin." + +"You know what he wants the land for?" Sanderson smiled at her. + +"For speculation purposes, I suppose. If he could get water----" + +"You've figured it out," said Sanderson. "But he won't get water. The +water belongs to the Double A--to me an' to you. An' we're goin' to +sell it ourselves." + +"You mean--" began Mary. + +"That we're going to build an irrigation dam--with all the fixin's. +You and me." + +The girl sat erect, her eyes luminous and eager. "Do you think we can +do it?" she whispered. + +"Do you think you could trust me with the three thousand you said dad +left? An' would you be willin' to mortgage the Double A--if we needed +more money?" + +"Why," she declared, breathlessly, "the Double A is yours--to do with +as you see fit. If you want to try--and you think there is a chance to +win--why, why--go to it!" + +"You're a brick!" grinned Sanderson. "We'll start the ball to rollin' +right away." + +Sanderson could not escape the vigorous hug she gave him, but he did +manage to evade her lips, and he went out of the house blushing and +grinning. + +It was late in the afternoon when he got to Okar. Barney Owen was with +him. The two rode into town, dismounted at a hitching rail in front of +a building across the front of which was a sign: + + + THE OKAR HOTEL + + +Okar was flourishing--as Mary Bransford said. At its northwestern +corner the basin widened, spreading between the shoulders of two +mountains and meeting a vast stretch of level land that seemed to be +endless. + +Okar lay at the foot of the mountain that lifted its bald knob at the +eastern side of the basin's mouth. Two glittering lines of steel that +came from out of the obscurity of distance eastward skirted Okar's +buildings and passed westward into an obscurity equally distant. + +The country around Okar was devoted to cattle. Sanderson's practiced +eye told him that. The rich grassland that spread from Okar's confines +was the force that had brought the town into being, and the railroad +would make Okar permanent. + +Okar did not look permanent, however. It was of the type of the +average cow-town of the western plains--artificial and crude. Its +buildings were of frame, hurriedly knocked together, representing the +haste of a people in whom the pioneer instinct was strong and +compelling--who cared nothing for appearances, but who fought mightily +for wealth and progress. + +Upon Okar was the stamp of newness, and in its atmosphere was the +eagerness and the fervor of commercialism. Okar was the trade mart of +a section of country larger than some of the Old World states. + +Fringing the hitching rails in front of its buildings were various +vehicles--the heavy wagons of Mexican freighters, the light buckboard +of the cattleman, and the prairie schooner of the homesteader. +Mingling with the vehicles were the cow-ponies of horsemen who had +ridden into town on various errands; and in the company corrals were +many cattle awaiting shipment. + +Sanderson stood beside his horse at the hitching rail for a look at +Okar. + +There was one street--wide and dust-windrowed, with two narrow board +walks skirting it. The buildings--mostly of one story--did not +interest Sanderson, for he had seen their kind many times, and his +interest centered upon the people. + +"Different from Tombstone," he told Owen as the two entered the hotel. +"Tombstone is cattle--Okar is cattle and business. I sort of like +cattle better." + +Owen grinned. "Cattle are too slow for some of Okar's men," he said. +"There's men here that figure on making a killing every +day--financially. Gamblers winning big stakes, supply dealers charging +twenty times the value of their stuff; a banker wanting enormous +interest on his money; the railroad company gobbling everything in +sight--and Silverthorn and Dale framing up to take all the land and the +water-rights. See that short, fat man playing cards with the little +one at that table?" + +He indicated a table near the rear of the barroom, visible through an +archway that opened from the room in which a clerk with a thin, narrow +face and an alert eye presided at a rough desk. + +"That's Maison--Tom Maison, Okar's banker. They tell me he'd skin his +grandmother if he thought he could make a dollar out of the deal." +Owen grinned. "He's the man you're figuring to borrow money from--to +build your dam." + +"I'll talk with him tomorrow," said Sanderson. + +In their room Sanderson removed some of the stains of travel. Then, +telling Owen he would see him at dusk, he went out into the street. + +Okar was buzzing with life and humming with activity when Sanderson +started down the board walk. In Okar was typified the spirit of the +West that was to be--the intense hustle and movement that were to make +the town as large and as powerful as many of its sister cities. + +Threading his way through the crowd on the board walk, Sanderson +collided with a man. He grinned, not looking at the other, apologized, +and was proceeding on his way, when he chanced to look toward the +doorway of the building he was passing. + +Alva Dale was standing just inside the doorway, watching him, and as +Sanderson's gaze met his Dale grinned sneeringly. + +Sanderson's lips twitched with contempt. His own smile matched Dale's +in the quality of its hostility. + +Sanderson was about to pass on when someone struck him heavily between +the shoulders. He staggered and lurched against the rough board front +of the building going almost to his knees. + +When he could steady himself he wheeled, his hand at his hip. Standing +near him, grinning maliciously, was the man with whom he had collided. + +In the man's right hand was a pistol. + +"Bump into me, will you--you locoed shorthorn!" sneered the man as +Sanderson turned. He cursed profanely, incoherently. But he did not +shoot. + +The weapon in his hand began to sag curiously, the fingers holding it +slowly slipping from the stock. And the man's face--thin and +seamed--became chalklike beneath the tan upon it. His eyes, furtive +and wolfish, bulged with astonishment and recognition, and his mouth +opened vacuously. + +"Deal Sanderson!" he said, weakly. "Good Lord! I didn't git a good +look at yon! I'm in the wrong pew, Deal, an' I sure don't want none of +your game!" + +"Dal Colton," said Sanderson. His voice was cold and even as he +watched the other sheathe his gun. "Didn't know me, eh? But you was +figurin' on pluggin' me." + +He walked close to the man and stuck his face close to the other, his +lips in a straight line. He knew Colton to be one of the most +conscienceless "killers" in the section of the country near Tombstone. + +"Who was you lookin' for, then?" demanded Sanderson. + +"Not you--that's a cinch!" grinned the other, fidgeting nervously under +Sanderson's gaze. He whispered to Sanderson, for in the latter's eyes +he saw signs of a cold resolve to sift the matter to the bottom: + +"Look here, Square; I sure don't want none of your game. Things has +been goin' sorta offish for me for a while, an' so when I meets a guy a +while ago who tells me to 'git' a guy named Will Bransford--pointin' +you out to me when your back was turned--I takes him up. I wasn't +figurin'----" + +"Who told you to get Bransford?" demanded Sanderson. + +"A guy named Dale," whispered Colton. + +Sanderson turned swiftly. He saw Dale still standing in the doorway. +Dale was grinning coldly, and Sanderson knew he suspected what had been +whispered by Colton. But before Sanderson could move, Dale's voice was +raised loudly and authoritatively: + +"Arrest that man--quick!" + +A man behind Sanderson lunged forward, twisting Sanderson around with +the impetus of the movement. Off his balance, Sanderson saw three or +four other men dive toward Colton. He saw Colton reach for the weapon +he had previously sheathed; saw the weapon knocked from his hand. + +Four men seized Colton, and he struggled helplessly in their grasp as +he was dragged away, his face working malignantly as he looked back at +Dale. + +"Double-crossed!" he yelled; "you damned, grinnin' coyote!" + +A crowd had gathered; Sanderson shouldered his way toward Dale and +faced him. Sanderson's face was white with rage, but his voice was +cold and steady as he stood before Dale. + +"So that's the way you work, is it, Dale? I'll give you what you was +goin' to pay Colton, if you'll pull your gun right now!" + +Dale's smile was maddeningly insolent. + +"Bah!" he said, "I'm an officer of the law. There are a dozen of my +men right behind you! Pull your gun! I'd like nothing better than to +have an excuse to perforate you! Sanderson, eh?" he laughed. "Well, +I've heard of you. Square Deal, eh? And here you are, masqueradin' as +Will Bransford! That's goin' to be quite an interestin' situation at +the Double A when things get to goin', eh?" + +He laughed again, raucously, and turned his back to Sanderson, +disappearing into the store. + +Sanderson glanced behind him. Several men were watching him, their +faces set and determined. Sanderson grinned at them and continued his +interrupted walk down the street. + +But something had been added to his hatred of Alva Dale--the knowledge +that Dale would not scruple to murder him on any pretext. Sanderson's +grin grew wider as he walked, for he knew of several men who had +harbored such evil intentions against him, and they---- + +But Dale was a stronger antagonist, and he had power and authority +behind him. Still, his spirit undaunted, Sanderson's grin grew wider, +though perhaps more grim. It was entirely worth while, now, the +deceiving of the woman he had hoped to protect; it wasn't her fight, +but his. And he would make the fight a good one. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A PLOT THAT WORKED + +Sanderson left the board walk and cut through a yard to the railroad. +He followed the rails until he reached the station. To his question +the station agent informed him that Dave Silverthorn might be found in +his office on the second floor of the building. + +Sanderson went up. A sign on a glass door bore Silverthorn's name. +Sanderson entered without knocking. + +Silverthorn was seated at a desk in a far corner of the room. He +looked up as Sanderson opened the door, and said shortly: + +"Well--what is it?" + +Sanderson crossed the room and halted beside the desk. For an instant +neither man spoke. Sanderson saw a man of medium height with a rather +well-rounded stomach, sloping shoulders, and a sleek, well-fed +appearance. His cheeks were full and florid, his lips large and loose; +his eyes cold, calculating, and hard. + +Silverthorn saw a lean-faced, broad-shouldered young man with a strong +chin, a firm mouth, and an eye that fixed him with a steady, unwavering +interest. + +By the gleam in Sanderson's eyes Silverthorn divined that he was in the +presence of a strong, opposing force, and he drew a slow, deep breath. + +"Well?" he said, again. + +"You're Dave Silverthorn?" + +The other nodded. "What can I do for you?" he questioned. + +"You can listen while I talk," said Sanderson. + +"I'm Will Bransford, of the Double A. I have heard from several +sources that you an' Alva Dale are after the title to the Double A. +You want the water-rights. You can't have them. An' the title to the +Double A stays with me. Understand that? I am goin' to hold on to the +property. + +"I've heard you can juggle the law--that's your business. But you +can't juggle the law enough to horn in on the Double A. If you do, I'm +comin' for you with a law of my own!" He tapped his gun bolster +significantly. + +"That's all," he concluded. "Are you sure you understand?" + +"Perfectly," answered Silverthorn. He was smiling mirthlessly, his +face blotched and bloated with mingled fear and rage. "But I'll have +you understand this: I am not afraid of your threats. You can't bully +me. The S. and M. Railroad has dealt with your kind on more than one +occasion. There is an opportunity here to develop a large section of +land, and my company means to do it. We mean to be fair, however. +We'll buy your title to the Double A. How much do you want for it?" + +Sanderson grinned. "The Double A is not for sale. I wouldn't sell it +to you for a million! You cheap crooks think that all you have to do +is to take anything you want. I just stopped in to tell you that I'm +wise to your game, an' that the kind of law I represent ain't cluttered +up with angles an' technical processes. She runs straight to a square +deal all around. That's all, Mr. Silverthorn." + +He turned and went out, closing the door behind him. + +He had not intended to have his talk with Tom Maison, Okar's banker, +until the following morning. But upon returning to Okar's street he +saw Maison ahead of him on the sidewalk. He followed the banker, saw +him enter the front door of the bank building, and a few minutes later +he was sitting opposite Maison at a table in the banker's private room. + +Maison was short and pudgy, short of breath, with a pasty complexion. + +"Will Bransford, eh?" he said, looking sharply at Sanderson over the +table. "H'm. You don't look much like your father." + +"Nor I don't act like him, either," smiled Sanderson. "For instance," +he went on at the banker's quick look, "dad was slow; he wasn't alive +to his opportunities. How long has it been since the railroad came to +Okar?" + +"Five years." + +"Then dad was five years slower than he ought to have been. He ought +to have seen what water would do to the basin. He didn't--left that +for me." + +"Meaning what?" asked Maison, as Sanderson paused. + +"Meanin' that I want to turn the Double A water into the basin. That's +what I came here to see you for. I want to mortgage the Double A to +the limit; I want to build a dam, irrigation canals, locks, an' +everything that goes with it. It will take a heap of money." + +Maison reflected. "And you want me to supply it," he said. "Yes, that +project will require a large sum. H'm! It is--er--do you purpose to +try to handle the project yourself, Mr. Bransford?" + +"Me an' Mary Bransford. I'll hire an engineer." + +Maison's cheeks reddened a trifle. He seemed to lose interest slightly. + +"Don't you think it is rather too big a thing for one man to +handle--aided by a woman?" He smiled blandly at Sanderson. "I have +thought of the water situation in the basin. It is my opinion that it +might be worked out successfully. + +"Why not organize a company--say a company composed of influential and +powerful men like Silverthorn and Dale and--er--myself. We could issue +stock, you know. Each would take a certain number of shares--paying +you for them, of course, and leaving you in possession of a large block +of it--say--forty per cent. We could organize, elect officers----" + +"An' freeze me out," smiled Sanderson. + +Maison sat erect and gazed haughtily at his visitor. + +"No one has ever questioned my honesty," he declared. + +Sanderson smiled at him. "Nor I don't. But I want to play her a lone +hand." + +"I am afraid I wouldn't be interested in that sort of project," said +Maison. + +The thought that Maison _would_ be interested--not publicly, but +privately--made Sanderson grin. The grin angered Maison; he arose +smiling coldly. + +"I am sorry to have taken your time, Mr. Bransford," he said, +dismissing his visitor. + +Sanderson did not give up. "My father left some money in your bank," +he said; "I'll take it." + +"Certainly," said the banker. He got a withdrawal blank and laid it +before Sanderson. + +"The amount is three thousand two hundred," he said. "Just fill that +out and sign your name and yon can have the money." + +Sanderson did not sign; he sat, looking at the blank, suddenly +afflicted with the knowledge that once more the troublesome "Bransford" +signature had placed him in a dilemma. + +Undoubtedly Maison, Silverthorn, and Dale were confederates in this +matter, and Dale's insistence that he sign the register claim was a +mere subterfuge to obtain a copy of the Bransford signature in order to +make trouble for him. It occurred to Sanderson that the men suspected +him, and he grinned coldly as he raised his eyes to Maison. + +Maison was watching him, keenly; and his flush when he saw Sanderson +looking at him convinced the latter that his suspicions were not +without foundation. + +If Sanderson could have known that he had hardly left the hotel when a +man whispered to Maison; and that Maison had said to the man: "All +right, I'll go down and wait for him," Sanderson could not have more +accurately interpreted Maison's flush. + +Sanderson's grin grew grim. "It's a frame-up," he told himself. His +grin grew saturnine. He got up, folded the withdrawal blank and stuck +it in a pocket. + +"I'm leavin' the money here tonight," he said. "For a man that ain't +been to town in a long while, there'd be too many temptations yankin' +at me." + +He went out, leaving Maison to watch him from a window, a flush of +chagrin on his face. + +Sanderson walked down the street toward the hotel. He would have Owen +sign the withdrawal blank before morning--that would defeat Maison's +plan to gain evidence of the impersonation. + + +Sanderson had not been gone from Silverthorn's office more than five +minutes when Dale entered. Silverthorn was sitting at his desk +scowling, his face pale with big, heavy lines in it showing the strain +of his interview with Sanderson. + +"Bransford's been here!" guessed Dale, looking at Silverthorn. + +Silverthorn nodded, cursing. + +"You don't need to feel conceited," laughed Dale; "he's been to see me, +too." + +Dale related what had happened on the street some time before, and +Silverthorn's scowl deepened. + +"There are times when you don't seem to be able to think at all, Dale!" +he declared. "After this, when you decide to do a thing, see me +first--or Maison. The last thing we want to happen right now is to +have this fake Bransford killed." + +"Why?" + +"I've just got word from Las Vegas that he's submitted his affidavit +establishing his identity, and that the court has accepted it. That +settles the matter until--or unless--we can get evidence to the +contrary. And if he dies without us getting that evidence we are +through." + +"Him dyin' would make things sure for us," contended Dale. "Mary +Bransford wouldn't have any claim--us havin' proof that she ain't a +Bransford." + +"This fellow is no fool," declared Silverthorn. "Suppose he's wise to +us, which he might be, and he has willed the property to the girl. +Where would we be, not being able to prove that he isn't Will +Bransford?" + +Dale meditated. Then he made a wry face. "That's right," he finally +admitted. He made a gesture of futility. "I reckon I'll let you do +the plannin' after this." + +"All right," said Silverthorn, mollified. "Have you set Morley on +Barney Owen?" + +"Owen was goin' right strong a few minutes after this Bransford guy +left him," grinned Dale. + +"All right," said Silverthorn, "go ahead the way we planned it. But +don't have our friend killed." + + +When Sanderson entered the hotel the clerk was alone in the office +pondering over the register. + +Dusk had fallen, and the light in the office was rather dim. Through +the archway connecting the office with the saloon came a broad beam of +light from a number of kerosene lamps. From beyond the archway issued +the buzz of voices and the clink of glasses; peering through the +opening Sanderson could see that the barroom was crowded. + +Sanderson mounted the stairs leading from the office. When he had left +Owen, the latter had told Sanderson that it was his intention to spend +the time until the return of his friend in reading. + +Owen, however, was not in the room. Sanderson descended the stairs, +walked to the archway that led into the saloon, and looked inside. In +a rear corner of the barroom he saw Owen, seated at a table with +several other men. Owen's face was flushed; he was talking loudly and +extravagantly. + +Sanderson remembered what Owen had told him concerning his appetite for +strong liquor, he remembered, too, that Owen was in possession of a +secret which, if divulged, would deliver Mary Bransford into the hands +of her enemies. + +Sanderson's blood rioted with rage and disgust. He crossed the barroom +and stood behind Owen. The latter did not see him. One of the men +with Owen did see Sanderson, though, and he looked up impudently, and +smilingly pushed a filled glass of amber-colored liquor toward Owen. + +"You ain't half drinkin', Owen," he said. + +Sanderson reached over, took the glass, threw its contents on the floor +and grasped Owen by the shoulder. His gaze met the tempter's, coldly. + +"My friend ain't drinkin' no more tonight," he declared. + +The tempter sneered, his body stiffening. + +"He ain't, eh?" he grinned, insolently. "I reckon you don't know him; +he likes whisky as a fish likes water." + +Several men in the vicinity guffawed loudly. + +Owen was drunk. His hair was rumpled, his face was flushed, and his +eyes were bleared and wide with an unreasoning, belligerent light as he +got up, swaying unsteadily, and looked at Sanderson. + +"Not drink any more?" he demanded loudly. "Who says I can't? I've got +lots of money, and there's lots of booze here. Who says I can't drink +any more?" + +And now, for the first time, he seemed to realize that Sanderson stood +before him. But the knowledge appeared merely to increase his +belligerence to an insane fury. He broke from Sanderson's restraining +grasp and stood off, reeling, looking at Sanderson with the grin of a +satyr. + +"Look who's telling me I can't drink any more!" he taunted, so that +nearly every man in the room turned to look at him, "It's my guardian +angel gentlemen--Will Bransford, of the Double A! Will Bransford--ha, +ha, ha! Will Bransford! Come an' look at him, gentlemen! Says I +can't drink any more booze. He's running the Double A, Bransford is. +There's a lot I could tell you about Bransford--a whole lot! He +ain't----" + +His maudlin talk broke off short, for Sanderson had stepped to his side +and placed a hand over his mouth. Owen struggled, broke away, and +shouted: + +"Damn you, let me alone! I'm going to tell these people who you are. +You're----" + +Again his talk was stilled. This time the method was swift and +certain. Sanderson took another step toward him and struck. His fist +landed on Owen's jaw, resounding with a vicious smack! in the sudden +silence that had fallen, and Owen crumpled and sank to the floor in an +inert heap. + +Sanderson was bending over him, preparing to carry him to his room, +when there came an interruption. A big man, with a drawn six-shooter, +stepped to Sanderson's side. A dozen more shoved forward and stood +near him, the crowd moving back, Sanderson sensed the movement and +stood erect, leaving Owen still on the floor. One look at the hostile +faces around him convinced Sanderson that the men were there by design. + +He grinned mirthlessly into the face of the man with the drawn pistol. + +"Frame-up, eh?" he said. "What's the game?" + +"You're wanted for drawin' a gun on Dave Silverthorn--in his office. +I'm a deputy sheriff, an' I've got a warrant for you. Want to see it?" + +Sanderson did not answer. Here was a manifestation of Dale's power and +cupidity. + +The charge was a mere subterfuge, designed to deprive him of his +liberty. Sanderson had no intention of submitting. + +The deputy saw resistance in the gleam of Sanderson's eyes, and he +spoke sharply, warningly: + +"Don't try any funny business; I've a dozen men here!" + +Sanderson laughed in his face. He lunged forward, striking bitterly +with the movement. The deputy's body doubled forward--Sanderson's fist +had been driven into his stomach. His gun clattered to the floor; he +reached out, trying to grasp Sanderson, who evaded him and struck +upward viciously. + +The deputy slid to the floor, and Sanderson stood beside the table, his +gun menacing the deputy's followers. + +Sanderson had worked fast. Possibly the deputy's men had anticipated +no resistance from Sanderson, or they had been stunned with the +rapidity with which he had placed their leader out of action. + +Not one of them had drawn a weapon. They watched Sanderson silently as +he began to back away from them, still covering them with his pistol. + +Sanderson had decided to desert Owen; the man had proved a traitor, and +could not expect any consideration. Owen might talk--Sanderson +expected he would talk; but he did not intend to jeopardize his liberty +by staying to find out. + +He stepped backward cautiously, for he saw certain of the men begin to +move restlessly. He cautioned them, swinging the muzzle of his pistol +back and forth, the crowd behind him splitting apart as he retreated. + +He had gone a dozen steps when someone tripped him. He fell backward, +landing on his shoulders, his right elbow striking hard on the board +floor and knocking the pistol out of his hand. + +He saw the men surge forward, and he made a desperate effort to get to +his feet. But he did not succeed. He was on his knees when several +men, throwing themselves at him, landed on top of him. Their combined +weight crushed him to the floor, but he squirmed out of the mass and +got to his feet, striking at the faces he saw around him, worrying the +men hither and yon, dragging them with him as he reeled under savage +blows that were rained on him. + +He had torn himself almost free; one man still clung to him, and he was +trying to shake the fellow off, that he might hit him effectively, when +a great weight seemed to fall on his head, blackness surrounded him, +and he pitched face down on the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +TEE VOICE OF THE COYOTE + +When Sanderson regained consciousness he was lying on his back on a +board floor. His head seemed to have been smashed, he was dizzy and +weak, but he sat up and looked around him. + +Then he grinned wanly. + +He was in jail. A heavy, barred door was in front of him; turning his +head he saw an iron-grated window behind him. Door and window were set +in heavy stone walls; two other stone walls, with a narrow iron cot set +against one of them, rose blankly on either side. + +Sanderson got up, reeling, and went to the window. Darkness had come; +he could see Okar's lights flickering and winking at him from the +buildings that skirted the street. Various sounds reached his +ears--Okar's citizens were enjoying themselves. + +Sanderson did not watch the lights long. He walked to the cot, seated +himself on its edge, rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in the +upturned palms of his hands and reflected on what had occurred to him. + +Remembering the four thousand dollars in bills of large denomination +that Burroughs had paid him when leaving the Pig-Pen, his hand went to +the money belt around his waist. + +Belt and money were gone! + +Sanderson got up again, walked to the door and called. + +A heavy-featured man slouched down the corridor and halted near the +door. + +"Awake, eh?" he grinned. "Dale sure did hand it to you--now, didn't +he? Well," he added as Sanderson's lips straightened at his words, +"what's eatin' you?" + +"I had a belt with some money in it--four thousand. What's become of +it?" + +"Four thousand!" the man jeered. "That bump on the head is still +affectin' you, I reckon. Four thousand--shucks!" He laughed. "Well, +I ain't seen it--if that's any consolation to you. If you'd had it +when you come here I'd sure seen it." + +"Who brought me here?" + +"Dale and his first deputy--the guy you poked in the stummick, over in +the Okar Hotel. They tell me you fi't like hell! What's Dale got +ag'in' you? Be sure was some het up about you." + +Sanderson did not answer. He turned his back to the jailer and walked +to the cot, again sitting on its edge. He heard the jailer sniff +contemptuously, but he paid no attention to him. + +Prominent in Sanderson's thoughts was the realization that Dale had +taken his money. He knew that was the last of it--Dale would not admit +taking it. Sanderson had intended to use the four thousand on the +Double A irrigation project. The sum, together with the three thousand +he meant to draw from the Okar bank, would have been enough to make a +decent start. + +Sanderson had some bitter thoughts as he sat on the edge of the cot, +all of them centering around Dale, Silverthorn, Maison, Owen, Mary +Bransford, and himself. He realized that he had been defeated in the +first clash with the forces opposed to him, that Owen had turned +traitor, that Mary Bransford's position now was more precarious than it +had been before his coming, and that he had to deal with resourceful, +desperate, and unscrupulous men. + +And yet, sitting there at the edge of the cot, Sanderson grinned. The +grin did not make his face attractive, for it reflected something of +the cold, bitter humor and savage passion that had gripped his soul. + + +At noon the next day Sanderson, looking out of the window of his cell; +heard a sound at the door. He turned, to see Silverthorn standing in +the corridor. + +Silverthorn smiled blandly at him. + +"Over it, I see," he said. "They used you rather roughly, eh? Well, +they tell me you made them step some." + +Sanderson deliberately turned his back and continued to look out of the +window. + +"On your dignity, eh?" sneered Silverthorn. "Well, let me tell you +something. We've heard a lot about you--from Dal Colton and Barney +Owen. Morley--one of our men--got Owen soused last night, as per +orders, and Owen spilled his knowledge of you all over the town. It's +pretty well known, now, that you are Deal Sanderson, from down +Tombstone way. + +"I don't know what your game was, but I think it's pretty well queered +by now. I suppose you had some idea of impersonating Bransford, hoping +to get a slice of the property. I don't blame you for trying. It was +up to us to see that you didn't get away with it. + +"But we don't want to play hog. If you'll admit before a notary that +you are not Will Bransford we'll hand you back the four thousand Dale +took from you, give you ten thousand in addition and safe conduct out +of the county. That strike you?" + +Sanderson did not answer. + +Silverthorn's face reddened. "You're a damned fool!" he sneered, +venomously. "We'll keep you in jail here for a thousand years, if +necessary. We'll do worse! + +"Look here!" he suddenly said. But Sanderson did not turn. +Silverthorn rattled a paper. + +"Here's a withdrawal slip on the Okar bank, calling for three thousand +two hundred dollars, signed by Will Bransford. Barney Owen drew the +money last night and blew it in gambling and drinking. He says he's +been signing Bransford's name--forging it--at your orders. The +signature he put on this paper is a dead ringer for the one on the +registry blank you gave Dale. + +"Dale saw Owen sign that. That's why he knew you are not Will +Bransford. Understand? Maison will swear you signed the withdrawal +slip and got the money. We'll prove that you are not Bransford, and +you'll go to the Las Vegas pen for twenty years! Now, let's talk +business!" + +Sanderson turned. There was a mirthless grin on his face. He spoke +loudly, calling the jailer. + +When the latter appeared in the corridor beside Silverthorn, Sanderson +addressed him without looking at the other: + +"You ain't on your job a heap, are you? There's a locoed coyote +barkin' at me through the door, there. Run him out, will you--he's +disturbin' me plenty." + +He turned from the door, stretched himself on the cot, and with his +face to the wall listened while Silverthorn cursed. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +DALE PAYS A VISIT + +Shortly after midnight Sanderson was sound asleep on the cot in the +cell when a strange, scraping noise awakened him. He lay still for a +long time, listening, until he discovered that the sound came from the +window. Then he sat up stealthily and looked around to see, framed in +the starlit gloom of the night, the face of Barney Owen, staring in +through the window at him. + +The sight of Owen enraged Sanderson, but his curiosity drove him to the +window. + +The little man was hanging to the iron bars; his neck muscles were +straining, his face was red and his eyes bright. + +"Don't talk, now!" he warned. "The boss of the dump is awake and he'll +hear. He's in his room; there's nobody else around. I wanted to tell +you that I'm going to knock him silly and get you out of this!" + +"Why?" mocked Sanderson, lowly. + +Owen's face grew redder. "Oh, I know I've got something coming, but +I'm going to get you out all the same. I've got our horses and guns. +Be ready!" + +He slipped down. Sanderson could hear his feet thud faintly on the +sand outside. + +Sanderson got into his clothes and stood at the cell door, waiting. +For a long time he heard no sound, but presently he caught the clank of +a door, followed by a swift step, and Owen stood in the corridor before +the cell door, a bunch of keys in his hand. + +There was no word spoken. Owen unlocked the door, Sanderson slipped +out, Owen passed him the six-shooter he had lost in the barroom of the +Okar Hotel, and the two slipped noiselessly down the corridor. + +A minute later they were mounting the horses that Owen had brought, and +shortly afterward they were moving like shadows away from the outskirts +of Okar. + +Not until they were well out in the big basin did either of them speak. +And then Sanderson said, shortly: + +"Silverthorn was tellin' me you gassed everything. Are you feelin' +better over it?" + +Owen's head bent over his horse's mane; his chin was on his chest when +he answered: + +"Come and kill me." + +"Hell!" exploded Sanderson, disgustedly. "If there was anything comin' +to you killin' would be too good for you. You ain't done anything to +me, you sufferin' fool--not a thing! What you've done you've done to +Mary Bransford. When you see Dale an' Silverthorn grabbin' the Double +A, an' Mary Bransford ridin' away, homeless--you'll have feelin's of +remorse, mebbe--if you've got any man in you at all!" + +Owen writhed and groaned. + +"It was the whisky--the cursed whisky!" he whispered. "I can't let it +alone--I love it! And once I get a taste of it, I'm gone---I'm a +stark, staring lunatic!" + +"I'd swear to that," grimly agreed Sanderson. + +"I didn't mean to say a word to anybody," wailed the little man. "Do +you think I'd do anything to harm Mary Bransford--after what she did +for me? But I did--I must have done it. Dale said I did, Silverthorn +said I did, and you say I did. But I don't remember. Silverthorn said +I signed a receipt for some money from the Okar bank--three thousand, +odd. I don't remember. Oh, but I'm--" + +"Calling yourself names won't get you back to where you was before you +made a fool of yourself," Sanderson told him, pityingly. "An' me +tellin' you what I think of you won't relieve my feelin's a whole lot, +for there ain't words enough layin' around loose. + +"What I want to know is this: did you go clean loco, or do you remember +anything that happened to you? Do you know who got the money you drew +from the bank?" + +"Dale," answered Owen. "He had that, for I remember him counting it in +the back room of the hotel. There was more, too; I heard him telling +Silverthorn there was about seven thousand in all. Silverthorn wanted +him to put it all back in the bank, but Dale said there was just enough +for him to meet his pay-roll--that he owed his men a lot of back pay. +He took it with him." + +"My four thousand," said Sanderson, shortly. + +"Yours?" Owen paled. + +"Dale lifted my money belt," Sanderson returned. "I was wondering what +he did with it. So that's what." + +He relapsed into a grim silence, and Owen did not speak again. + +They rode several miles in that fashion--Owen keeping his horse +slightly behind Sanderson's, his gaze on the other's face, his own +white with remorse and anxiety. + +At last he heard Sanderson laugh, and the sound of it made him grit his +teeth in impotent agony. + +"Sanderson," he said, gulping, "I'm sorry." + +"Sure," returned the other. "If I hadn't wised up to that quite a +spell ago, you'd be back on the trail, waitin' for some coyote to come +along an' get his supper." + +They rode in silence for a long time. They came to the gentle slope of +the basin and began to climb it. + +A dozen times Owen rode close to Sanderson, his lips trembling over +unuttered words, but each time he dropped back without speaking. His +eyes, fixed worshipfully on the back of the big, silent man ahead of +him, were glowing with anxiety and wonder. + +In the ghostly darkness of the time before the gray forerunner of the +dawn appears on the horizon they came in sight of the Double A +ranchhouse. + +Sanderson was still leading. The ranchhouse burst upon his vision as +his horse topped a rise that had obscured his view of the ranchhouse, +and he saw it, clearly outlined. + +Riding down the slope of the rise he smiled. For there was a light in +one of the ranchhouse windows. Mary had left it burn on his account, +he divined. + +He halted and allowed Owen to come near him. + +"Mary ain't to hear about this deal tonight," he told the little man. +"Not a peep--understand?" + +Without waiting for an answer he rode onward. + +Thinking that, perhaps, in spite of the burning lamp Mary might be +sleeping, Sanderson cautiously dismounted at the corral gates, and, +leaving Owen to put his own horse away, he walked toward the house, +stealthily, for he did not wish to awaken the girl. + +Halfway across the ranchhouse yard, Sanderson saw a shadow cross the +light in the window. Again he grinned, thinking Mary had not gone to +bed after all. + +But, going forward more unconcernedly, Sanderson's smile faded and was +succeeded by a savage frown. For in the shadow formed by the little +"L" at the junction of the house and porch, he saw a horse saddled and +bridled. + +Suddenly alert, and yielding to the savage rage that gripped him, +Sanderson stole softly forward and looked closely at the animal. He +recognized it instantly as Dale's, and in the instant, his face pale, +his eyes blazing with passion, he was on the porch, peering through one +of the darkened windows. + +Inside he saw Dale and Mary Bransford. They were in the sitting-room. +Dale was sitting in a big chair, smoking a cigar, one arm carelessly +thrown over the back of the chair, his legs crossed, his attitude that +of the master. + +Standing perhaps a dozen feet from him was Mary Bransford. + +The girl's eyes were wide with fright and astonishment, disbelief, +incredulity--and several other emotions that Sanderson could not +analyze. He did not try. One look at her sufficed to tell him that +Dale was baiting her, tantalizing her, mocking her, and Sanderson's +hatred for the man grew in intensity until it threatened to overwhelm +him. + +There was in his mind an impulse to burst into the house and kill Dale +where he sat. It was the primitive lust to destroy an unprincipled +rival that had seized Sanderson, for he saw in Dale's eyes the bold +passion of the woman hunter. + +However, Sanderson conquered the impulse. He fought it with the +marvelous self-control and implacable determination that had made him +feared and respected wherever men knew him, and in the end the faint, +stiff grin on his face indicated that whatever he did would be done +with deliberation. + +This was an instance where the eavesdropper had some justification for +his work, and Sanderson listened. + +He heard Dale laugh--the sound of it made Sanderson's lips twitch +queerly. He saw Mary cringe from Dale and press her hands over her +breast. Dale's voice carried clearly to Sanderson. + +"Ha, ha!" he said. "So _that_ hurts, eh? Well, here's more of the +same kind. We got Barney Owen drunk last sight, and he admitted that +he'd signed all of Sanderson's papers--the papers that were supposed to +have been signed by your brother. Why didn't Sanderson sign them? +Why? Because Sanderson couldn't do it. + +"Owen, who knew your brother in Arizona, signed them, because he knew +how to imitate your brother's writing. Get that! Owen signed a bank +receipt for the money old Bransford had in the bank. Owen got it and +gave it to me. He was so drunk he didn't know what he was doing, but +he could imitate your brother's writing, all right." + +"You've got the money?" gasped the girl. + +Again Dale laughed, mockingly. "Yep," he said, "I've got it. Three +thousand two hundred. And I've got four thousand that belongs to that +four-flusher, Square Deal. Seven thousand." He laughed again. + +"Where is Sanderson?" questioned the girl. + +"In jail, over in Okar." Dale paused long enough to enjoy the girl's +distress. Then he continued: "Owen is in jail, too, by this time. +Silverthorn and Maison are not taking any chances on letting him go +around loose." + +"Sanderson in jail!" gasped Mary. She seemed to droop; she staggered +to a chair and sank into it, still looking at Dale, despair in her eyes. + +Dale got up and walked to a point directly in front of her, looking +down at her, triumphantly. + +"That's what," he said. "In jail. Moreover, that's where they'll stay +until this thing is settled. We mean to have the Double A. The sooner +you realize that, the easier it will be for you. + +"I'm offering you a way out of it--an easy way. That guy, Sanderson, +ain't on the level. He's been working you, making a monkey of +you--fooling you. He wants the Double A for himself. He's been +hanging around here, passing himself off as your brother, aiming to get +on the good side of you--getting you to love him good and hard. Then +mebbe he'd tell you, thinking that you'd forgive him. But mebbe that +wasn't his game at all. Mebbe he'd figured to grab the ranch and turn +you out. + +"Now, I'm offering you a whole lot. Mebbe you've thought I was sweet +on that Nyland girl. Get that out of your mind. I was only fooling +with her--like any man fools with a girl. I want her ranch--that's +all. But I don't care a damn about the Double A, I want you. I've had +my eye on you right along. Mebbe it won't be marriage right away, +but----" + +"Alva Dale!" + +The girl was on her feet, her eyes blazing. + +Dale did not retreat from her; he stood smiling at her, his face +wreathed in a huge grin. He was enjoying the girl. + +Sanderson slipped along the wall of the house and opened the door. It +creaked loudly on its hinges with the movement, causing both Dale and +the girl to turn and face it. + +Mary Bransford stood rigid as she saw Sanderson standing in the +doorway, a flush sweeping swiftly over her face. There was relief in +her eyes. + +Astonishment and stark, naked fear were in Dale's eyes. He shrank back +a step, and looked swiftly at Sanderson's right hand, and when he saw +that it held a six-shooter he raised both his own hands, shoulder-high, +the palms toward Sanderson. + +"So you know it means shootin', eh?" said Sanderson grimly as he +stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him, slamming it +shut with his left hand. + +"Well, shootin' goes." There was the cold calm of decision in his +manner; his eyes were ablaze with the accumulated hate and rage that +had been aroused over what he had heard. The grin that he showed to +Dale drew his lips into two straight, stiff lines. + +"I reckon you think you've earned your red shirt, Dale," he said, "for +tellin' tales out of school. Well, you'll get it. There's just one +thing will save your miserable hide. You got that seven thousand on +you?" + +Dale hesitated, then nodded. + +Sanderson spoke to Mary Bransford without removing his gaze from Dale: + +"Get pen, ink, an' paper." + +The girl moved quickly into another room, returning almost instantly +with the articles requested. + +"Sit down an' write what I tell you to," directed Sanderson. + +Dale dropped into a chair beside a center-table, took up the pen, +poised it over the paper, and looked at Sanderson. + +"I am hereby returning to Deal Sanderson the seven thousand two hundred +dollars I stole from, him," directed Sanderson. "I am doing this of my +own accord--no one is forcin' me," went on Sanderson. "I want to add +that I hereby swear that the charge of drawin' a gun on Silverthorn was +a frame-up, me an' Silverthorn an' Maison bein' the guilty parties," +finished Sanderson. + +"Now," he added, when Dale had written as directed, "sign it." + +Dale signed and stood up, his face aflame with rage. + +"I'll take the money--now," said Sanderson. + +Dale produced it from various pockets, laying it on the table. He said +nothing. Mary Bransford stood a little distance away, watching +silently. + +"Count it, Miss Bransford," said Sanderson when Dale had disgorged the +money. + +The two men stood silent as the girl fingered the bills. At last she +looked at Sanderson and nodded. + +The latter grinned. "Everything's regular, now," he said. He looked +at Mary. "Do you want him killed, ma'am? He'd be a lot better off +dead. You'd be better off, too. This kind of a skunk is always +around, botherin' women--when there ain't no men around." + +Mary shook her head with a decisive negative. + +"Then he won't die, right now," said Sanderson. "He'll pull his +freight away from the Double A, though, ma 'am. An' he'll never come +back." + +He was talking to Dale through the girl, and Dale watched him, scowling. + +"If he does come back, you'll tell me, won't you, ma'am? An' then +there'll never be an Alva Dale to bother you again--or to go around +robbin' honest men, an' tryin' to get them mixed up with the law." + +And now he turned from the girl and spoke to Dale: + +"You go right back to Okar an' tell Maison an' Silverthorn what has +happened here tonight. Show them how the fear of God has got into your +heart an' made you yearn to practice the principles of a square deal. +Tell them that they'd better get to goin' straight, too, for if they +don't there's a guy which was named after a square deal that is goin' +to snuff them off this hemisphere middlin' rapid. That's all. You'd +better hit the breeze right back to Okar an' spread the good news." + +He stood, a grim smile on his face, watching Dale as the latter walked +to the door. When Dale stepped out on the porch Sanderson followed +him, still regarding the movements of the other coldly and alertly. + +Mary heard them--their steps on the boards of the porch; she heard the +saddle leather creak as Dale climbed on his horse; she heard the sound +of the hoofbeats as the horse clattered out of the ranchhouse yard. + +And then for several minutes she stood near the little table in the +room, listening vainly for some sound that would tell her of the +presence of Sanderson on the porch. None came. + +At last, when she began to feel certain that he had gone to the +bunkhouse, she heard a step on the porch and saw Sanderson standing in +the doorway. + +He grinned at her, meeting her gaze fairly. + +"Dale told you a heap of truth, ma'am," he said. "I feel more like a +man tonight than I've felt for a good many days--an' nights." + +"Then it was true--as Dale said--that you are not my brother?" said the +girl. She was trying to make her voice sound severe, but only +succeeded in making it quaver. + +"I ain't your brother." + +"And you came here to try to take the ranch away from me--to steal it?" + +He flushed. "You've got four thousand of my money there, ma'am. +You're to keep it. Mebbe that will help to show what my intentions +were. About the rest--your brother an' all--I'll have to tell you. +It's a thing you ought to know, an' I don't know what's been keepin' me +from tellin' you all along. + +"Mebbe it was because I was scared you'd take it hard. But since these +sneaks have got to waggin' their tongues it'll have to be told. If you +sit down by the table there, I'll tell you why I done what I did." + +She took a chair beside the table and faced him, and, standing before +her, speaking very gently, but frankly, he related what had occurred to +him in the desert. She took it calmly, though there were times when +her eyes glowed with a light that told of deep emotion. But she soon +became resigned to the death of her brother and was able to listen to +Sanderson's story of his motive in deceiving her. + +When he related his emotion during their first meeting--when he had +told Dale that he was her brother, after yielding to the appeal in her +eyes--she smiled. + +"There was some excuse for it, after all," she declared. + +"An' you ain't blamin' me--so much?" he asked. + +"No," she said. She blushed as she thought of the times she had kissed +him. He was thinking of her kisses, too, and as their eyes met, each +knew what the other was thinking about. Sanderson smiled at her and +her eyes dropped. + +"It wasn't a square deal for me to take them, then, ma'am," he told +her. "But I'm goin' to stay around here an' fight Dale an' his friends +to a finish. That is, if you want me to stay. I'd like a straight +answer. I ain't hangin' around where I ain't wanted." + +Her eyes glowed as she looked at him. + +"You'll have to stay, now," she said. "Will is dead, and you will have +to stay here and brazen it out. They'd take the Double A from me +surely, if you were to desert me. You will have to stay and insist +that you are my brother!" + +"That's a contract," he agreed. "But"--he looked at her, a flush on +his face--"goin' back to them kisses. It wasn't a square deal. But +I'm hopin' that a day will come----" + +She got up, her face very red. "It is nearly morning," she interrupted. + +"Yes," he smiled; "things are only beginnin'." + +"You are impudent--and imprudent," she said, looking straight at him. + +"An' hopeful," he answered, meeting her eyes. + +Fifteen minutes later, stretched out on his bed, Sanderson saw the dawn +breaking in the east. It reminded him of the morning he had seen the +two riders above him on the edge of the arroyo. As on that other +morning, he lay and watched the coming of the dawn. And when later he +heard Mary moving about in the kitchen he got up, not having slept a +wink, and went out to her. + +"Did you sleep well?" she asked. + +"How could I," he asked, "with a new day dawnin' for me?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE HAND OF THE ENEMY + +When in the bunkhouse the next morning Sanderson informed Barney Owen +of what had occurred during the night, the latter looked fixedly at +Sanderson. + +"So she didn't take it hard," he said. + +"Was you expectin' her to? For a brother that she hadn't seen in a +dozen years--an' which she knows in her secret heart wasn't any good?" +retorted Sanderson. "Shootin' your face off in Okar--or anywhere +else--don't go any more," added Sanderson. "She's pretendin', +publicly, that I'm her brother." + +"I'm through talking," declared Owen. + +"Or livin'. It's one or the other," warned Sanderson. + +Sanderson took the seven thousand dollars that Mary gave him, rode to +Lazette--a town fifty miles eastward from the basin---and deposited the +money in a bank there. Then he rode eastward still farther and in +another town discovered a young engineer with a grievance against his +employers. + +The result of this discovery was that on the following morning the +young engineer and Sanderson journeyed westward to the basin, arriving +at the Double A late in the afternoon of the next day. + +On the edge of the plateau after the engineer and, Sanderson had spent +three or four days prowling through the basin and the gorge, the +engineer spoke convincingly: + +"It's the easiest thing in the world! A big flume to the point I +showed you, a big main ditch and several laterals will do the trick. +I'm with you to the finish!" + +Sanderson smiled at the engineer's glowing enthusiasm and told him of +the opposition he would meet in developing the project. + +"There'll be a heap of schemin', an' mebbe shootin', Williams," +Sanderson told him. "Puttin' through this deal won't be any +pussy-kitten affair." + +"So much the better," laughed the engineer; "I'm fed up on soft snaps +and longing for action." + +The engineer was thirty; big, square-shouldered, lithe, and capable. +He had a strong face and a level, steady eye. + +"If you mean business, let's get acquainted," he said. "My front name +is Kent." + +"Well, Kent, let's get busy," smiled Sanderson. "You go to work on +your estimates, order your material, hire your men. I'll see how bad +the people in the basin want the water they've been expectin'." + +Kent Williams took up his quarters in the bunkhouse and immediately +began work, though before he could do much he rode to Okar, telegraphed +to Dry Bottom, the town which had been the scene of his previous +activity, and awaited the arrival of several capable-looking young men. + +In company with the latter he returned to the Double A, and for many +days thereafter he and his men ran the transit and drove stakes in the +basin and along the gorge. + +Sanderson spent much of his time talking with the cattlemen in the +basin. They were all eager to have water brought to their ranches, for +it would save them the long trip to the river, which was inaccessible +in many places, and they welcomed the new project. + +0ne of the men--a newcomer to the basin--voiced the general sentiment. + +"We want water, an' we don't give a damn who brings it here. First +come, first served!" + +The big problem to Sanderson, however, was the question of money. He +was aware that a vast sum would be required. Nearly all the money he +possessed would be sunk in the preliminary work, and he knew that if +the work was to go on he must borrow money. + +He couldn't get money in Okar, he knew that. + +He rode to Lazette and talked with a banker there. The latter was +interested, but unwilling to lend. + +"The Okar Basin," he said. "Yes, I've heard about it. Great prospects +there. But I've been told that Silverthorn and Maison are going to put +it through, and until I hear from them, I shouldn't like to interfere." + +"That gang won't touch the Double A water!" declared Sanderson. "I'll +see the basin scorched to a cinder before I'll let them in on the deal!" + +The banker smiled. "You are entitled to the water, of course; and I +admire your grit. But those men are powerful. I have to depend on +them a great deal. So you can see that I couldn't do anything without +first consulting them." + +Sanderson left Lazette in disgust. It was not until after he had tried +in Dry Bottom and Las Vegas that he realized how subtle and +far-reaching was the power and influence of the financial rulers of +Okar. + +"We should like to let you have the money," the Las Vegas banker told +him. "But, unfortunately, a loan to you would conflict with our +interests in Okar. We know the big men in Okar have been considering +the water question in the basin, and we should not like to antagonize +them." + +The trip consumed two weeks, and Sanderson returned to the Double A to +discover that during his absence very little work had been done. + +"It looks like we're up against it," Williams informed him when pressed +for an explanation. "We can't get a pound of material. I went +personally to Okar and was told by Silverthorn that the railroad would +accept no material consigned to the Double A ranch." + +"Pretty raw," was Sanderson's only comment. + +"Raw? It's rotten!" declared Williams. "There's plenty of the kind +of material we want in Lazette. To get it here would mean a fifty-mile +haul. I can get teams and wagons in Lazette," he added, an eager note +in his voice. + +"Go to it," said Sanderson. + +Williams smiled admiringly. "You're game, Mr. Man," he said; "it's a +pleasure to work for you!" + +However, it was not courage that impelled Sanderson to accept the +hazard and expense of the fifty-mile haul. In his mind during the days +he had been trying to borrow money had been a picture of the defeat +that was ahead of him if he did not succeed; he could imagine the +malicious satisfaction with which his three enemies would discuss his +failure. + +Inwardly, Sanderson was writhing with impatience and consumed with an +eagerness to get into personal contact with his enemies, the passion to +triumph had gripped his soul, and a contempt for the sort of law in +which Okar dealt had grown upon him until the contemplation of it had +aroused in him a savage humor. + +Okar's law was not law at all; it was a convenience under which his +three enemies could assail the property rights of others. + +Outwardly, Sanderson was a smiling optimist. To Mary Bransford he +confided that all was going well. + +Neither had broached the subject of Sanderson's impersonation since the +night of Dale's visit. It was a matter which certain thoughts made +embarrassing for Mary, and Sanderson was satisfied to keep silent. + +But on the day that Williams left the Double A for Lazette, Mary's +curiosity could not be denied. She had conquered that constraint which +had resulted from the revelation of Sanderson's identity, and had asked +him to ride to the top of the gorge, telling him she wanted him to +explain the proposed system of irrigation. + +"It is desperately hard to get any information out of Williams," she +told Sanderson; "he simply won't talk about the work." + +"Meanin' that he'll talk rapid enough about other things, eh?" +Sanderson returned. He looked slyly at Mary. + +"What other things are there for him to talk about?" + +"A man could find a heap of things to talk about--to a woman. He might +talk about himself--or the woman," suggested Sanderson, grinning. + +She gave him a knowing look. "Oh," she said, reddening. "Yes," she +added, smiling faintly, "now that you speak of it, I remember he did +talk quite a little. He is a very interesting man." + +"Good-looking too," said Sanderson; "an' smart. He saw the prospects +of this thing right off." + +"Didn't you see them?" she questioned quickly. + +"Oh, that," he said, flushing. "If the Drifter hadn't told me mebbe I +wouldn't have seen." + +"You have always been around cattle, I suppose?" she asked. + +"Raised with them," smiled Sanderson. + +Thus she directed the conversation to the subject about which she had +wanted to inquire--his past life. Her questions were clever; they were +suggestions to which he could do nothing except to return direct +replies. And she got out of him much of his history, discovering that +he had sound moral views, and a philosophy of which the salient +principle was the scriptural injunction: "Do unto others as ye would +that others should do unto you." + +Upon that principle he had founded his character. His reputation had +grown out of an adamantine adherence to it. Looking at him now she +felt the strength of him, his intense devotion to his ideals; the +earnestness of him. + +Curiously, she had felt those things during the time she had thought of +him as her brother, and had been conscious of the lure of him. It gave +her a queer thrill to stand beside him now, knowing that she had kissed +him; that he had had an opportunity to take advantage of the situation, +and had not done so. + +He had acted the gentleman; he was a gentleman. That was why she was +able to talk with him now. If he had not treated her as he had treated +her his presence at the Double A would have been intolerable. + +There was deep respect for women in Sanderson, she knew. Also, despite +his bold, frank glances--which was merely the manhood of him +challenging her and taking note of her charms--there was a hesitating +bashfulness about the man, as though he was not quite certain of the +impression he was creating in her mind. + +That knowledge pleased Mary; it convinced her of his entire worthiness; +it gave her power over him--and that power thrilled her. + +As her brother, he had been an interesting figure, though his manner +had repelled her. And she had been conscious of a subtle pleasure that +was not all sisterly when she had been near him. She knew, now, that +the sensation had been instinctive, and she wondered if she could have +felt toward her brother as she felt toward this man. + +However, this new situation had removed the diffidence that had +affected her; their relations were less matter of fact and more +romantic, and she felt toward him as any woman feels who knows an +admirer pursues her--breathless with the wonder of it, but holding +aloof, tantalizing, whimsical, and uncertain of herself. + +She looked at him challengingly, mockery in her eyes. + +"So you came here because the Drifter told you there would be +trouble--and a woman. How perfectly delightful!" + +He sensed her mood and responded to it. + +"It's sure delightful. But it ain't unusual. I've always heard that +trouble will be lurkin' around where there's a woman." + +"But you would not say that a woman is not worth the trouble she +causes?" she countered. + +"A man is willin' to take her--trouble an' all," he responded, looking +straight at her. + +"Yes--if he can get her!" she shot back at him. + +"Mostly every woman gets married to a man. I've got as good a chance +as any other man." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because you're talkin' to me about it," he grinned. "If you wasn't +considerin' me you wouldn't argue with me about it; you'd turn me down +cold an' forget it." + +"I suppose when a man is big and romantic-looking----" + +"Oh, shucks, ma'am; you'll be havin' me gettin' a swelled head." + +"He thinks that all he has to do is to look his best." + +"I expect I've looked my worst since I've been here. I ain't had a +chance to do any moonin' at you." + +"I don't like men that 'moon,'" she declared. + +"That's the reason I didn't do it," he said. + +She laughed. "Now, tell me," she asked, "how you got your name, +'Deal.' It had something to do with cards, I suppose?" + +"With weight," he said, looking soberly at her. "When I was born my +dad looked at me sort of nonplussed. I was that big. 'There's a deal +of him,' he told my mother. An' the name stuck. That ain't a lot +mysterious." + +"It was a convenient name to attach the 'Square' to," she said. + +"I've earned it," he said earnestly. "An' I've had a mighty hard time +provin' my right to wear it. There's men that will tempt you out of +pure deviltry, an' others that will try to shoot such a fancy out of +your system. But I didn't wear the 'Square' because I wanted to--folks +hung it onto me without me askin'. That's one reason I left Tombstone; +I'd got tired of posin' as an angel." + +He saw her face grow thoughtful and a haunting expression come into her +eyes. + +"You haven't told me how he looked," she said. + +Sanderson lied. He couldn't tell her of the dissipation he had seen in +her brother's face, nor of the evilness that had been stamped there. +He drew a glowing picture of the man he had buried, and told her that +had he lived her brother would have done her credit. + +But Sanderson suffered no remorse over the lie. For he saw her eyes +glow with pride, and he knew that the picture he had drawn would be the +ideal of her memory for the future. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE TRAIL HERD + +Kent Williams went to Lazette, and Sanderson spent the interval during +his departure and return in visiting the cattlemen and settlers in the +basin. The result of these visits was a sheaf of contracts for water, +the charge based on acreage, that reposed in Sanderson's pockets. +According to the terms of the contracts signed by the residents of the +basin, Sanderson was to furnish water within one year. + +The length of time, Sanderson decided, would tell the story of his +success or failure. If he failed he would lose nothing, because of +having the contracts with the settlers, and if he won the contracts +would be valid. + +Sanderson was determined to win. When after an absence of a week +Williams returned, to announce that he had made arrangements for the +material necessary to make a "regular" start, and that he had hired men +and teams to transport the material, Sanderson's determination became +grim. For Williams told him that he had "gone the limit," which meant +that every cent to Sanderson's credit in the Lazette bank had been +pledged to pay for the material the engineer had ordered. + +"We're going to rush things from now on," Williams told Sanderson. +"Next week we'll need ten thousand dollars, at least." + +Sanderson went into the house and had a long talk with Mary Bransford. +Coming out, he went to the corral, saddled Streak, and rode to Okar. + +Shortly he was sitting at a desk opposite a little man who was the +resident buyer for an eastern live-stock company. + +"The Double A has three thousand head of cattle," Sanderson told the +little man. "They've had good grass and plenty of water. They're fat, +an' are good beef cattle. Thirty-three dollars is the market price. +What will you give for them, delivered to your corral here?" + +The resident buyer looked uncomfortable. "I've had orders not to buy +any more cattle for a time." + +"Whose orders?" demanded Sanderson. + +The resident buyer's face flushed and he looked more uncomfortable. + +"My firm's orders!" he snapped. + +Sanderson laughed grimly; he saw guilt in the resident buyer's eyes. + +"Silverthorn's orders," he said shortly. At the other's emphatic +negative Sanderson laughed again. "Maison's, then. Sure--Maison's," +he added, as the other's flush deepened. + +Sanderson got up. "Don't take it so hard," he advised the resident +buyer. "I ain't goin' to bite you. What I'm wonderin' is, did Maison +give you that order personally, or did you get it from your boss." + +The buyer shifted uneasily in his chair, and did not look at Sanderson. + +"Well," said the latter, "it don't make a heap of difference. +Good-bye," he said, as he went out. "If you get to feelin' mighty +small an' mean you can remember that you're only one of the pack of +coyotes that's makin' this town a disgrace to a dog kennel." + +Sanderson returned to the Double A and found Mary in the house. + +"No go," he informed her. "Maison an' Silverthorn an' Dale have +anticipated that move. We don't sell any cattle in Okar." + +The girl's disappointment was deep. + +"I suppose we may as well give up," she said. + +Sanderson lifted her face to his. + +"If you're goin' to talk that way I ain't goin' to love you like I +thought I was," he grinned. "An' I'm sure wantin' to." + +"I don't want to give up," she said. + +"Meanin'?" + +"Meaning that I'd like to have you beat those men. Oh, the miserable +schemers! They will go to any length to defeat you." + +He laughed lowly and vibrantly. "Well, they'll certainly have to +travel _some_," he said. "About as fast as the man will have to travel +that takes you away from me." + +"Is victory that dear to you?" she asked. + +"I won't take one without the other," he told her his eyes glowing. +"If I don't beat Silverthorn and the others, an' keep the Double A for +you, why I----" + +"You'll win!" she said. + +"You are hopin' I will?" he grinned. "Well," he added, as she averted +her eyes, "there'll come a time when we'll talk real serious about +that. I'm goin' to tell the range boss to get ready for a drive to Las +Vegas." + +"That is a hundred and seventy-five miles!" gasped the girl. + +"I've followed a trail herd two thousand," grinned Sanderson. + +"You mean that you will go yourself--with the outfit?" + +"Sure." + +Sanderson went out, mounted Streak, and found the range boss--Eli +Carter. Carter and the men were ordered to round up all the Double A +cattle and get ready to drive them to Las Vegas. Sanderson told Carter +he would accompany the outfit. + +Cutting across the basin toward the ranchhouse, he saw another horseman +riding fast to intercept him, and he swerved Streak and headed toward +the other. + +The rider was Williams, and when Sanderson got close enough to see his +face he noted that the engineer was pale and excited. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +CHECKED BY THE SYSTEM + +The engineer waved a yellow paper at Sanderson and shouted: + +"I just got this. I made a hit with the Okar agent last week, and he +sent a man over with it. That's a damned scoundrelly bunch that's +working against you! Do you know what they've done?" + +Sanderson said nothing, and the engineer resumed, explosively: + +"They've tied up your money at the Lazette bank! My material men won't +send a pound of stuff to me until they get the cash! We're +stopped--dead still!" + +He passed a telegram to Sanderson, who read: + + +Bank here refuses to honor Sanderson's check. Claim money belongs to +Bransford estate. Legal tangle. Must have cash or won't send material. + +THE BRANDER COMPANY. + + +A flicker of Sanderson's eyelids was all the emotion he betrayed to +Williams. The latter looked at him admiringly. + +"By George," he said, "you take it like a major! In your shoes I'd get +off my nag and claw up the scenery!" + +Sanderson smiled. After telling the engineer to do as much as he could +without the material, he rode on. + +He had betrayed no emotion in the presence of Williams, but he was +seething with passion. + +Late the next afternoon he joined Carter and the outfit. The men had +made good use of their time, and when Sanderson arrived, the entire +herd of cattle was massed on a broad level near the river. They were +milling impatiently, for the round-up had just been completed, and they +were nervous over the unusual activity. + +The cowboys, bronzed, lean, and capable, were guarding the herd, riding +slowly around the fringe of tossing horns, tired, dusty, but singing +their quaint songs. + +Carter had sent the cook back to the ranchhouse during the afternoon to +obtain supplies; and now the chuck wagon, with bulging sides, was +standing near a fire at which the cook himself was preparing supper. + +Carter grinned as Sanderson rode up. + +"All ready!" he declared. "We sure did hump ourselves!" + +Around the camp fire that night Sanderson was moody and taciturn. He +had stretched out on his blanket and lay listening to the men until one +by one they dropped off to sleep. + +Sanderson's thoughts were bitter. He felt the constricting influence +of his enemies; he was like the herd of cattle that his men had rounded +up that day, for little by little Silverthorn, Dale, and Maison were +cutting down his area of freedom and of action, were hampering him on +all sides, and driving him to a point where he would discover +resistance to be practically useless. + +He had thought in the beginning that he could devise some way to escape +the meshes of the net that was being thrown around him, but he was +beginning to realize that he had underestimated the power and the +resources of his enemies. + +Maison and Silverthorn he knew were mere tentacles of the capital they +represented; it was their business to reach out, searching for victims, +in order to draw them in and drain from them the last vestige of wealth. + +And Sanderson had no doubt that they did that work impersonally and +without feeling, not caring, and perhaps not understanding the tortures +of a system--of a soulless organization seeking only financial gain. + +Dale, however, was intensely human and individualistic. He was not as +subtle nor as smooth as his confederates. And money was not the only +incentive which would drive him to commit crime. He was a gross +sensualist, unprincipled and ruthless, and Sanderson's hatred of him +was beginning to overshadow every other consideration. + +Sanderson went to sleep with his bitter thoughts, which were tempered +with a memory of the gentle girl at whom the evil agencies of his +enemies were directed. They were eager to get possession of Mary +Bransford's property, but their real fight would be, and was, against +him. + +But it was Mary Bransford that he was fighting for, and if he could get +the herd of cattle to Las Vegas and dispose of them, he would be +provided with money enough to defeat his enemies. But money he must +have. + +At breakfast the next morning Carter selected the outfit for the drive. +He named half a dozen men, who were variously known as Buck, Andy, Bud, +Soapy, Sogun, and the Kid. These men were experienced trail-herd men, +and Carter had confidence in them. + +Their faces, as they prepared for the trip, revealed their joy and +pride over their selection, while the others, disappointment in their +eyes, plainly envied their fellow-companions. + +But Sanderson lightened their disappointment by entrusting them with a +new responsibility. + +"You fellows go back to the Double A an' hang around," he told them. +"I don't care whether you do a lick of work or not. Stick close to the +house an' keep an eye on Mary Bransford. If Dale, or any of his gang, +come nosin' around, bore them, plenty! If any harm comes to Mary +Bransford while I'm gone, I'll salivate you guys!" + +Shortly after breakfast the herd was on the move. The cowboys started +them westward slowly, for trail cattle do not travel fast, urging them +on with voice and quirt until the line stretched out into a sinuously +weaving band a mile long. + +They reached the edge of the big level after a time, and filed through +a narrow pass that led upward to a table-land. Again, after a time, +they took a descending trail, which brought them down upon a big plain +of grassland that extended many miles in all directions. Fringing the +plain on the north was a range of hills that swept back to the +mountains that guarded the neck of the big basin at Okar. + +There was timber on the hills, and the sky line was ragged with +boulders. And so Sanderson and his men, glancing northward many times +during the morning, did not see a rider who made his way through the +hills. + +During the previous afternoon the rider had sat on his horse in the dim +haze of distance, watching the Double A outfit round up its cattle; and +during the night he had stood on guard, watching the men around the +camp fire. + +He had seen most of the Double A men return toward the ranchhouse after +the trail crew had been selected; he had followed the progress of the +herd during the morning. + +At noon he halted in a screen of timber and grinned felinely. + +"They're off, for certain," he said aloud. + +Late that afternoon the man was in Okar, talking with Dale and +Silverthorn and Maison. + +"What you've been expectin' has happened," he told them. "Sanderson, +Carter, an' six men are on the move with a trail herd. They're headed +straight on for Las Vegas." + +Silverthorn rubbed the palms of his hands together, Maison smirked, and +Dale's eyes glowed with satisfaction. + +Dale got up and looked at the man who had brought the information. + +"All right, Morley," he said with a grin. "Get going; we'll meet up +with Sanderson at Devil's Hole." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A QUESTION OF BRANDS + +Trailing a herd of cattle through a strange wild country is no +sinecure. There was not a man in the Double A outfit who expected an +easy time in trailing the herd to Las Vegas, for it was a rough, grim +country, and the men were experienced. + +Wild cattle are not tractable; they have an irritating habit of +obstinately insisting on finding their own trail, and of persisting in +vagaries that are the despair of their escort. + +The Double A herd was no exception. On a broad level they behaved +fairly well, though always requiring the attention of the men; but in +the broken sections of country through which they passed, +heart-breaking effort was required of the men to keep them headed in +the right direction. + +The men of the outfit had little sleep during the first two days of the +drive. Nights found them hot, tired, and dusty, but with no prospect +of an uninterrupted sleep. Still there was no complaint. + +On the third night, the herd having been driven about forty miles, the +men began to show the effects of their sleepless vigil. + +They had bedded the herd down on a level between some hills, near a +rocky ford over which the waters of a little stream trickled. + +Buck and Andy were on their ponies, slowly circling the herd, singing +to the cattle, talking to them, using all their art and persuasion to +induce the herd to cease the restless "milling" that had begun with the +effort to halt for the night. + +Around the camp fire, which had been built at the cook's orders, were +Sanderson, Carter, Bud, Sogun, Soapy, and the Kid. Carter stood at a +little distance from the fire, watching the herd. + +"That's a damned nervous bunch we've got, boys," he called to the other +men. "I don't know when I've seen a flightier lot. It wouldn't take +much to start 'em!" + +"We'll have our troubles gettin' them through Devil's Hole," declared +Soapy. Soapy, so called because of his aversion to the valuable toilet +preparation so necessary to cleanliness, had a bland, ingenuous face +and perplexed, inquiring eyes. He was a capable man, however, despite +his pet aversion, and there was concern in his voice when he spoke. + +"That's why I wasn't in no hurry to push them too far tonight," +declared Carter. "I don't want to get anywhere near Devil's Hole in +the darkness, an' I want that place quite some miles away when I camp. +I seen a herd stride that quicksand on a run once, an' they wasn't +enough of them left to make a good stew. + +"If my judgment ain't wrong, an' we can keep them steppin' pretty +lively in the mornin', we'll get to Devil's Hole just about noon +tomorrow. Then we can ease them through, an' the rest ain't worth +talkin' about." + +"Devil's Hole is the only trail?" inquired Sanderson. + +Carter nodded. The others confirmed the nod. But Carter's desire for +an early start the next morning was denied. Bud and Sogun were on +guard duty on the morning shift, with the other men at breakfast, when +a dozen horsemen appeared from the morning haze westward and headed +directly for the camp fire. + +"Visitors," announced Soapy, who was first to see the riders. + +The Double A men got to their feet to receive the strangers. Sanderson +stepped out from the group slightly, and the horsemen came to a halt +near him. A big man, plainly the leader of the strangers, dismounted +and approached Sanderson. + +The man radiated authority. There was a belligerent gleam in his eyes +as he looked Sanderson over, an inspection that caused Sanderson's face +to redden, so insolent was it. Behind him the big man's companions +watched, their faces expressionless, their eyes alert. + +"Who's runnin' this outfit?" demanded the man. + +"You're talkin' at the boss," said Sanderson. + +"I'm the sheriff of Colfax County," said the other, shortly. "There's +been a complaint made about you. Bill Lester, of the Bar X, says +you've been pickin' up his cattle, crossin' his range, yesterday." + +This incident had happened before, both to Sanderson and to Carter. +They had insisted on the right of inspection themselves, when strange +herds had been driven through their ranges. + +"We want to look your stock over," said the sheriff. + +The request was reasonable, and Sanderson smiled. + +"That's goin' to hold us up a spell," he returned; "an' we was figurin' +on makin' Devil's Hole before dark. Hop in an' do your inspectin'." + +The big man motioned to his followers and the latter spurred to the +herd, the other being the last to leave the camp fire. + +For two hours the strangers threaded and weaved their horses through +the mass of cattle, while Sanderson and his men, impatient to begin the +morning drive, rode around the outskirts and watched them. + +"They're takin' a mighty good look," commented Carter at the end of the +two hours. + +Sanderson's face was set in a frown; he saw that the men were working +very slowly, and were conferring together longer than seemed necessary. + +At the end of three hours Carter spoke to Sanderson, his voice hoarse +with rage: + +"They're holdin' us up purposely. I'll be damned if I'm goin' to stand +for it!" + +"Easy there!" cautioned Sanderson. "I've never seen a sheriff that was +long on speed. They'll be showin' their hand pretty soon." + +Half an hour later the sheriff spurred his horse out of the press and +approached Sanderson. His face was grave. His men rode up also, and +halted their horses near him. The Double A men had advanced and stood +behind Sanderson and Carter. + +"There's somethin' wrong here!" he declared, scowling at Sanderson. +"It ain't the first time this dodge has been worked. A man gets up a +brand that's mighty like the brand on the range he's goin' to drive +through, an' he picks up cattle an' claims they're his. You claim your +brand is the Double A." He dismounted and with a branch of chaparral +drew a design in the sand. + +"This is the way you make your brand," he said, and he pointed out the +Double A brand: + +[Illustration: Double A and Bar X brands.] + +"That's an 'A' lookin' at it straight up an' from the right side, like +this, just reversin' it. But when you turn it this way, it's the Bar X: + +"An' there's a bunch of your steers with the brand on them that way. +I'll have to take charge of the herd until the thing is cleared up!" + +Sanderson's lips took on a straight line; the color left his face. + +Here was authority--that law with which he had unaccountably clashed on +several occasions during his stay at the Double A. Yet he knew +that--as on those other occasions--the law was operating to the benefit +of his enemies. + +However, he did not now suspect Silverthorn and the others of setting +the law upon him. The Double A men might have been careless with their +branding, and it was unfortunate that he had been forced by the closing +of the Okar market to drive his cattle over a range upon which were +cattle bearing a brand so startlingly similar to his. + +His men were silent, watching him with set faces. He knew they would +stand behind him in any trouble that might occur. And yet he +hesitated, for he did not wish to force trouble. + +"How many Bar X cattle do you think are in the herd?" he asked. + +"Mebbe a hundred--mebbe more." + +"How long will it take you to get Bill Lester here to prove his stock?" + +The big man laughed. "That's a question. Bill left last night for +Frisco; I reckon mebbe he'll be gone a month--mebbe more." + +The color surged back into Sanderson's face. He stiffened. + +"An' you expect to hold my herd here until Lester gets back?" he said, +slowly. + +"Yep," said the other, shortly. + +"You can't do it!" declared Sanderson. "I know the law, an' you can't +hold a man's cattle that long without becomin' liable for damages." + +"We'll be liable," grinned the sheriff. "Before Bill left last night +he made out a bond for ninety thousand dollars--just what your cattle +are worth at the market price. If there's any damages comin' to you +you'll get them out of that." + +"It's a frame-up," growled Carter, at Sanderson's side. "It proves +itself. This guy, Lester, makes out a bond before we're within two +days' drive of his bailiwick. He's had information about us, an' is +plannin' to hold us up. You know what for. Silverthorn an' the bunch +has got a finger in the pie." + +That suspicion had also become a conviction to Sanderson. And yet, in +the person of the sheriff and his men, there was the law blocking his +progress toward the money he needed for the irrigation project. + +"Do you think one hundred and fifty heads will cover the suspected +stock?" he questioned. + +"I'd put it at two hundred," returned the sheriff. + +"All right, then," said Sanderson slowly; "take your men an' cut out +the two hundred you think belong to Lester. I'll stop on the way back +an' have it out with you." + +The sheriff grinned. "That'll be square enough," he agreed. He turned +to the men who had come with him. "You boys cut out them cattle that +we looked at, an' head them toward the Bar X." When the men had gone +he turned to Sanderson. + +"I want you men to know that I'm actin' under orders. I don't know +what's eatin' Bill Lester--that ain't my business. But when I'm +ordered to do anything in my line of duty, why, it's got to be done. +Your friend has gassed some about a man named Silverthorn bein' at the +bottom of this thing. Mebbe he is--I ain't got no means of knowin'. +It appears to me that Bill ain't got no call to hog your whole bunch, +though, for I've never knowed Bill to raise more than fifteen hundred +head of cattle in one season. I'm takin' a chance on two hundred +coverin' his claims." + +It was after noon when the sheriff and his men started westward with +the suspected stock. + +Carter, fuming with rage, watched them go. Then he turned to Sanderson. + +"Hell an' damnation! We'll hit Devil's Hole about dusk--if we start +now. What'll we do?" + +"Start," said Sanderson. "If we hang around here for another day +they'll trump up another fake charge an' clean us out!" + +The country through which they were forced to travel during the +afternoon was broken and rugged, and the progress of the herd was slow. +However, according to Carter, they made good time considering the +drawbacks they encountered, and late afternoon found them within a few +miles of the dreaded Devil's Hole. + +Carter counseled a halt until morning, and Sanderson yielded. After a +camping ground had been selected Carter and Sanderson rode ahead to +inspect Devil's Hole. + +The place was well named. It was a natural basin between some jagged +and impassable foothills, running between a gorge at each end. Both +ends of the basin constricted sharply at the gorges, resembling a wide, +narrow-necked bottle. + +A thin stream of water flowed on each side of a hard, rock trail that +ran straight through the center of the basin, and on both sides of the +trail a black bog of quicksand spread, covering the entire surface of +the land. + +Halfway through the basin, Sanderson halted Streak on the narrow trail +and looked at the treacherous sand. + +"I've seen quicksand, _an'_ quicksand," he declared, "but this is the +bogs of the lot. If any steers get bogged down in there they wouldn't +be able to bellow more than once before they'd sink out of sight!" + +"There's a heap of them in there," remarked Carter. + +It was an eery place, and the echo of their voices resounded with +ever-increasing faintness. + +"I never go through this damned hell-hole without gettin' the creeps," +declared Carter. "An' I've got nerve enough, too, usually. There's +somethin' about the place that suggests the cattle an' men it's +swallowed. + +"Do you see that flat section there?" he indicated a spot about a +hundred yards wide and half as long, which looked like hard, baked +earth, black and dead. "That's where that herd I was tellin' you about +went in. The next morning you couldn't see hide nor hair of them. + +"It's a fooler for distance, too," he went on, "it's more than a mile +to that little spot of rock, that projectin' up, over there. College +professors have been here, lookin' at it, an' they say the thing is fed +from underground rivers, or springs, or somethin' that they can't even +guess. + +"One of them was tellin' Boss Edwards, over on the Cimarron, that that +rock point that you see projectin' up was the peak of a mountain, an' +that this narrow trail we're on is the back of a ridge that used to +stick up high an' mighty above a lot of other things. + +"I can't make it out, an' I don't try; it's here, an' that's all there +is to it. An' I ain't hangin' around it any longer than I have to." + +"A stampede--" began Sanderson. + +"Gentlemen, shut up!" interrupted Carter. "If any cattle ever come +through here, stampedin', that herd wouldn't have enough left of it to +supply a road runner's breakfast!" + +They returned to the camp, silent and anxious. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +DEVIL'S HOLE + +Sanderson took his turn standing watch with the other men. The boss of +a trail herd cannot be a shirker, and Sanderson did his full share of +the work. + +Tonight he had the midnight shift. At two o'clock he would ride back +to camp, awaken his successor, and turn in to sleep until morning. + +Because of the proximity of the herd to Devil's Hole an extra man had +been told off for the nightwatch, and Soapy and the Kid were doing duty +with Sanderson. + +Riding in a big circle, his horse walking, Sanderson could see the +dying embers of the camp fire glowing like a big firefly in the +distance. A line of trees fringing the banks of the river near the +camp made a dark background for the tiny, leaping sparks that were shot +up out of the fire, and the branches waving in the hazy light from +countless coldly glittering stars were weird and foreboding. + +Across the river the ragged edges of the rock buttes that flanked the +water loomed somberly; beyond them the peaks of some mountains, miles +distant, glowed with the subdued radiance of a moon that was just +rising. + +Back in the direction from which the herd had come the ridges and +depressions stretched, in irregular corrugations, as far as Sanderson +could see. Southward were more mountains, dark and mysterious. + +Riding his monotonous circles, Sanderson looked at his watch, his face +close to it, for the light from the star-haze was very dim. He was on +the far side of the herd, toward Devil's Hole, and he was chanting the +refrain from a simple cowboy song as he looked at the watch. + +The hands of the timepiece pointed to "one." Thus he still had an hour +to stand watch before awakening the nest man. He placed the watch is a +pocket, shook the reins over Streak's neck and spoke to him. + +"Seems like old times to be ridin' night-watch, eh, Streak?" he said. + +The words had hardly escaped his lips when there arose a commotion from +the edge of the herd nearest the corrugated land that lay between the +herd and the trail back to the Double A. + +On a ridge near the cattle a huge, black, grotesque shape was clearly +outlined. It was waving to and fro, as though it were some +giant-winged monster of the night trying to rise from the earth. +Sanderson could hear the flapping noise it made; it carried to him with +the sharp resonance of a pistol shot. + +"Damnation!" he heard himself say. "Some damned fool is wavin' a tarp!" + +He jerked Streak up shortly, intending to ride for the point where the +tarpaulin was being waved before it was too late. But as he wheeled +Streak he realized that the havoc had been wrought, for the cattle +nearest him were on their feet, snorting with fright--a sensation that +had been communicated to them by contact with their fellows in the mass. + +At the point where the commotion had occurred was confusion. Sanderson +saw steers rising on their hind legs, throwing their forelegs high in +the air; they were bellowing their fright and charging against the +steers nearest them, frenziedly trying to escape the danger that seemed +to menace them. + +Sanderson groaned, for the entire herd was on the move! Near at hand a +dozen steers shot out of the press and lumbered past him, paying no +attention to his shouts. He fired his pistol in the face of one, and +though the animal tried to turn back, frightened by the flash, the +press of numbers behind it, already moving forward, forced it again to +wheel and break for freedom. + +Sanderson heard the sounds of pistol shots from the direction of the +camp fire; he heard other shots from the direction of the back trail; +he saw the forms of men on horses darting here and there on the +opposite side of the herd from where he rode. + +From the left side of the herd came another rider--Soapy. He tore +ahead of the vanguard of running steers, shooting his pistol in their +faces, shouting profanely at them, lashing them with his quirt. + +A first batch slipped by him. He spurred his horse close to +Sanderson--who was trying to head off still others of the herd that +were determined to follow the first--and cursed loudly: + +"Who in hell waved that tarp?" + +Sanderson had no time to answer. A score of steers bolted straight for +him, and he groaned again when he saw that the whole herd was rushing +forward in a mass. A common impulse moved them; they were frenzied +with fright and terror. + +It was not the first stampede that Sanderson had been in, and he knew +its dangers. Yet he grimly fought with the cattle, Streak leaping here +and there in answer to the knee-pressure of his master, horse and rider +looking like knight and steed of some fabled romance, embattled with a +huge monster with thousands of legs. + +Sanderson caught a glimpse of several riders tearing toward him from +the direction of the camp, and he knew that Carter and the others were +trying to reach him in the hope of being able to stem the torrent of +rushing cattle. + +But the movement had already gone too far, and the speed of the +frenzied steers was equal to the best running that Streak could do. + +Sanderson saw that all effort to stop them would be hopeless, and aware +of the danger of remaining at the head of the flying mass, he veered +Streak off, heading him toward the side, out of the press. + +As he rode he caught a glimpse of Soapy. The latter had the same +notion that was in Sanderson's mind, for he was leaning over his pony's +mane, riding hard to get out of the path taken by the herd. + +Sanderson pulled Streak up slightly, watching Soapy until he was +certain the latter would reach the edge, then he gave Streak the reins +again. + +The pause, though, robbed Sanderson of his chance to escape. He had +been cutting across the head of the herd at a long angle when watching +Soapy, and had been traveling with the cattle also; and now he saw that +the big level was behind him, that he and the cattle were in an +ever-narrowing valley which led directly into the neck of Devil's Hole. + +Sanderson now gave up all hope of reaching the side, and devoted his +attention to straight, hard riding. There were a few steers ahead of +him, and he had a faint hope that if he could get ahead of them he +might be able to direct their course through Devil's Hole and thus +avert the calamity that threatened. + +Grimly, silently, riding as he had never ridden before, he urged Streak +forward. One by one he passed the steers in his path, and just before +he reached the entrance to Devil's Hole he passed the foremost steer. + +Glancing back as Streak thundered through the neck of the Hole, +Sanderson saw Soapy coming, not more than a hundred yards behind. +Soapy had succeeded in getting clear of the great body of steers, but +there were a few still running ahead of him, and he was riding +desperately to pass them. + +Just as Sanderson looked back he saw Soapy's horse stumble. He +recovered, ran a few steps and stumbled again. This time he went to +one knee. He tried desperately to rise, fell again, and went down, +neighing shrilly in terror. + +Sanderson groaned and tried to pull Streak up. But the animal refused +to heed the pull on the reins and plunged forward, unheeding. + +There would have been no opportunity to save Soapy, even if Streak had +obeyed his master. The first few steers at the head of the mass +swerved around the fallen man and his horse, for they could see him. + +The thousands behind, though, running blindly, in the grip of the +nameless terror that had seized them, saw nothing, heeded nothing, and +they swept, in a smother of dust, straight over the spot where Soapy +and his horse had been. + +White-lipped, catching his breath in gasps over the horror, Sanderson +again turned his back to the herd and raced on. The same accident +might happen to him, but there was no time to pick and choose his trail. + +Behind him, with the thundering noise of a devastating avalanche, the +herd came as though nothing had happened. The late moon that had been +touching the peaks of the far mountains now lifted a rim over them, +flooding the world with a soft radiance. Sanderson had reached the +center of the trail, through Devil's Hole, before he again looked back. + +What he saw caused him to pull Streak up with a jerk. The head of the +herd had burst through the entrance to the Hole, and, opening fanlike, +had gone headlong into the quicksand. + +Fascinated with the magnitude of the catastrophe, Sanderson paid no +attention to the few steers that went past him, snorting wildly; he sat +rigid on his horse and watched the destruction of the herd. + +A great mass of steers had gone into the quicksand at the very edge of +the Hole; they formed a foothold for many others that, forced on by the +impetus of the entire mass, crushed them down, trampled them further +into the sand, and plunged ahead to their own destruction. + +It was a continually recurring incident. Maddened, senseless, +unreasoning in their panic, the mass behind came on, a sea of tossing +horns, a maelstrom of swirling, blinding dust and heaving bodies into +the mire; the struggling, enmeshed bodies of the vanguard forming a +living floor, over which each newcomer swept to oblivion. + +Feeling his utter helplessness, Sanderson continued to watch. There +was nothing he could do; he was like a mere atom of sand on a seashore, +with the storm waves beating over him. + +The scene continued a little longer. Sanderson saw none of the men of +the outfit. The dust died down, settling like a pall over the neck of +the Hole. A few steers, chancing to come straight ahead through the +neck of the Hole, and thus striking the hard, narrow trail that ran +through the center, continued to pass Sanderson. They were still in +the grip of a frenzy; and at the far end of the Hole he saw a number of +them bogged down. They had not learned the lesson of the first +entrance. + +At length it seemed to be over. Sanderson saw one steer, evidently +with some conception of the calamity penetrating its consciousness, +standing near him on the trail, moving its head from side to side and +snorting as it looked at its unfortunate fellows. The animal seemed to +be unaware of Sanderson's presence until Streak moved uneasily. + +Then the steer turned to Sanderson, its red eyes ablaze. As though it +blamed him for the catastrophe, it charged him. Sanderson drew his +pistol and shot it, with Streak rearing and plunging. + +Roars of terror and bellows of despair assailed Sanderson's ears from +all directions. Groans, almost human, came from the mired mass on both +sides of the trail. Hundreds of the cattle had already sunk from +sight, hundreds were sucked partly down, and other hundreds--thousands, +it seemed--were struggling in plain view, with only portions of their +bodies under. + +Still others--the last to pour through the throat of the gorge--were +clambering out, using the sinking bodies of others to assist them; +Sanderson could see a few more choking the far end of the Hole. + +How many had escaped he did not know, nor care. The dramatic finish of +Soapy was vivid, and concern for the other members of the outfit was +uppermost in his mind. + +He rode the back trail slowly. The destruction of his herd had not +occupied ten minutes, it seemed. Dazed with the suddenness of it, and +with a knowledge of what portended, he came to the spot where Soapy's +horse had stumbled and looked upon what was left of the man. His face +dead white, his hands trembling, he spread his blanket over the spot. +He had formed an affection for Soapy. + +Mounting Streak, he resumed his ride toward the camp. A dead silence +filled the wide level from which the stampede had started--a silence +except for the faint bellowing that still reached his ears from the +direction of the Hole. + +Half a mile from where he had found the pitiable remnants of Soapy he +came upon Carter. The range boss was lying prone on his back, his body +apparently unmarred. His horse was standing near him, grazing. Carter +had not been in the path of the herd. + +What, then, had happened to him? + +Sanderson dismounted and went to his knees beside the man. At first he +could see no sign of anything that might have caused death--for Carter +was undoubtedly dead--and already stiffening! Then he saw a red patch +staining the man's shirt, and he examined it. Carter had been shot. +Sanderson stood up and looked around. There was no one in sight. He +mounted Streak and began to ride toward the camp, for he felt that +Carter's death had resulted from an accident. One explanation was that +a stray bullet had killed Carter--in the excitement of a stampede the +men were apt to shoot wildly at refractory steers. + +But the theory of accident did not abide. Halfway between Carter and +the camp Sanderson came upon Bud. Bud was lying in a huddled heap. He +had been shot from behind. Later, continuing his ride to camp, +Sanderson came upon the other men. + +He found the Kid and the cook near the chuck wagon, Sogun and Andy were +lying near the fire, whose last faint embers were sputtering feebly; +Buck was some distance away, but he, too, was dead! + +Sanderson went from one to the other of the men, to make a final +examination. Bending over Sogun, he heard the latter groan, and in an +instant Sanderson was racing to the river for water. + +He bathed Sogun's wound--which was low on the left side, under the +heart, and, after working over him for five or ten minutes, giving him +whisky from a flask he found in the chuck wagon, and talking to the man +in an effort to force him into consciousness, he was rewarded by seeing +Sogun open his eyes. + +Sogun looked perplexedly at Sanderson, whose face was close. + +There was recognition in Sogun's eyes--the calm of reason was swimming +in them. + +He half smiled. "So you wriggled out of it, boss, eh? It was a +clean-up, for sure. I seen them get the other boys. I emptied my gun, +an' was fillin' her again when they got me." + +"Who?" demanded Sanderson sharply. + +"Dale an' his gang. They was a bunch of them--twenty, mebbe. I heard +them while I was layin' here. They thought they'd croaked me, an' they +wasn't botherin' with me. + +"One of them waved a blanket--or a tarp. I couldn't get what it was. +Anyway, they waved somethin' an' got the herd started. I heard them +talkin' about seein' Soapy go under, right at the start. An' you. +Dale said he saw you go down, an' it wasn't no use to look for you. +They sure played hell, boss." + +Sanderson did not answer. + +"If you'd lift my head a little higher, boss, I'd feel easier, mebbe," +Sogun smiled feebly. "An' if it ain't too much trouble I'd like a +little more of that water--I'm powerful thirsty." + +Sanderson went to the river, and when he returned Sogun was stretched +out on his back, his face upturned with a faint smile upon it. + +Sanderson knelt beside him, lifted his head and spoke to him. But +Sogun did not answer. + +Sanderson rose and stood with bowed head for a long time, looking down +at Sogun. Then he mounted Streak and headed him into the moonlit space +that lay between the camp and the Double A ranchhouse. + +It was noon the next day when Sanderson returned with a dozen Double A +men. After they had labored for two hours the men mounted their horses +and began the return trip, one of them driving the chuck wagon. + +All of the men were bitter against Dale for what had happened, and +several of them were for instant reprisal. + +But Sanderson stared grimly at them. + +"There ain't any witnesses," he said, "not a damned one! My word don't +go in Okar. Besides, it's my game, an' I'm goin' to play her a lone +hand--as far as Dale is concerned." + +"You goin' to round up what's left of the cattle?" asked a puncher. + +Sanderson answered shortly: "Not any. There wasn't enough left to make +a fuss about, an' Dale can have them." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A MAN BORROWS MONEY + +The incident of Devil's Hole had changed the character of the fighting +between Sanderson and Dale. Dale and his fellow-conspirators had +deserted that law upon which, until the incident of Devil's Hole, they +had depended. They had resorted to savagery, to murder; they had +committed themselves to a course that left Sanderson no choice except +to imitate them. + +And Sanderson was willing. More, he was anxious. He had respected the +law; and still respected it. But he had never respected the law +represented by his three enemies. He was determined to avenge the +murder of his men, but in his own time and in his own way. + +His soul was in the grip of a mighty rage against Dale and the others; +he longed to come into personal contact with them--to feel them writhe +and squirm in his clutch. And had he been the free agent he had always +been until his coming to the Double A he would have gone straight to +Okar, thus yielding to the blood lust that swelled his veins. + +But he could not permit his inclinations to ruin the girl he had +promised to protect. He could kill Dale, Silverthorn, and Maison quite +easily. But he would have no defense for the deed, and the law would +force him to desert Mary Bransford. + +For an entire day following the return of himself and his men from the +scene of the stampede Sanderson fought a terrific mental battle. He +said nothing to Mary Bransford, after giving her the few bare facts +that described the destruction of the herd. But the girl watched him +anxiously, suspecting something of the grim thoughts that tortured him, +and at dinner she spoke to him. + +"Deal," she said, "don't be rash. Those men have done a lawless thing, +but they still have the power to invoke the law against you." + +"I ain't goin' to be lawless--yet," he grinned. + +But Sanderson was yielding to an impulse that had assailed him. His +manner betrayed him to Owen, at least, who spoke to Mary about it. + +"He's framing up something--or he's got it framed up and is ready to +act," he told the girl. "He has got that calm during the past few +hours that I feel like I'm in the presence of an iceberg when I'm near +him." + +Whatever was on Sanderson's mind he kept to himself. But late that +night, when the ranchhouse was dark, and a look through one of the +windows of the bunkhouse showed Sanderson there were only two men +awake--and they playing cards sleepily--he threw saddle and bridle on +Streak and rode away into the inky darkness of the basin. + + +Shortly after dusk on the same night Silverthorn, Dale, and Maison were +sitting at a table in Maison's private office in the bank building. +They, too, were playing cards. + +But their thoughts were not on the cards. Elation filled their hearts. + +Dale was dealing, but it was plain that he took no interest in the +game. At last, with a gesture of disgust, he threw the cards face up +on the table and smiled at the others. + +"What's the use?" he said. "I keep thinking of what happened at +Devil's Hole. We ought to have been sure that we finished the job, an' +we would have been sure if we hadn't known that that damned Colfax +sheriff was hanging around somewhere. + +"He took two hundred head from Sanderson--when he ought to have taken +the whole damn herd--which he'd orders to do. And then, instead of +driving them direct to Lester's he made camp just on the other side of +Devil's Hole--three or four miles, Morley said. I don't know what for, +except that maybe he's decided to give Sanderson the steers he'd taken +from him--the damned fool! You've got to break him, Maison, for +disobeying orders!" + +"I'll attend to him," said Maison. + +"That's the reason we didn't go through Devil's Hole to see what had +become of Sanderson," resumed Dale. "We was afraid of running into the +sheriff, and him, being the kind of a fool he is, would likely have +wanted to know what had happened. I thought it better to sneak off +without letting him see us than to do any explaining." + +Silverthorn looked at his watch. "Morley and the others ought to be +here pretty soon," he said. + +"They're late as it is," grumbled Dale. "I ought to have gone myself." + +They resumed their card-playing. An hour or so later there came a +knock on the door of the bank--a back door--and Dale opened it to admit +Morley--the big man who had drawn a pistol on Sanderson when he had +tried to take Barney Owen out of the City Hotel barroom. + +Morley was alone. He stepped inside without invitation and grinned at +the others. + +"There's no sign of Sanderson. Someone had been there an' planted the +guys we salivated--an' the guy which went down in the run. We seen his +horse layin' there, cut to ribbons. It's likely Sanderson went into +the sand ahead of the herd--they was crowdin' him pretty close when we +seen them runnin'." + +"You say them guys was planted?" said Dale. "Then Sanderson got out of +it. He would--if anyone could, for he was riding like a devil on a +cyclone when I saw him. He's got back, and took his men to Devil's +Hole." + +Maison laughed. "We'll say he got out of it. What of it? He's broke. +And if the damned court would get a move on with that evidence we've +sent over to prove that he isn't a Bransford, we'd have the Double A +inside of a week!" + +Dale got up, grinning and looking at his watch. + +"Well, gentlemen, I'm hitting the breeze to the Bar D for some sleep. +See you tomorrow." + +Dale went out and mounted his horse. But he did not go straight home, +as he had declared he would. After striking the neck of the basin he +swerved his horse and rode northeastward toward Ben Nyland's cabin. + +For he had heard that day in Okar that Ben Nyland had taken a train +eastward that morning, to return on the afternoon of the day following. +And during the time Dale had been talking with Maison; and Silverthorn, +and playing cards with them, he thought often of Peggy Nyland. + +Silverthorn and Morley did not remain long in Maison's private room in +the bank building. + +Morley had promised to play cards with some of his men in the City +Hotel barroom, and he joined them there, while Silverthorn went to his +rooms in the upper story of the station. + +After the departure of the others, Maison sat for a long time at the +table in the private room, making figures on paper. + +Maison had exacted from the world all the luxuries he thought his +pampered body desired. His financial career would not have borne +investigation, but Maison's operations had been so smooth and subtle +that he had left no point at which an enemy could begin an +investigation. + +But years of questionable practice had had an inevitable effect upon +Maison. Outwardly, he had hardened, but only Maison knew of the many +devils his conscience created for him. + +Continued communion with the devils of conscience had made a coward of +Maison. When at last he got up from the table he glanced +apprehensively around the room; and after he had put out the light and +climbed the stairs to his rooms above the bank, he was trembling. + +Maison had often dealt crookedly with his fellow-men, but never, until +the incident of Devil's Hole, had he deliberately planned murder. Thus +tonight Maison's conscience had more ghastly evidence to confront him +with, and conscience is a pitiless retributive agent. + +Maison poured himself a generous drink of whisky from a bottle on a +sideboard before he got into bed, but the story told him by Dale and +the others of the terrible scene at Devil's Hole--remained so staringly +vivid in his thoughts that whisky could not dim it. + +He groaned and pulled the covers over his head, squirming and twisting, +for the night was warm and there was little air stirring. + +After a while Maison sat up. It seemed to him that he had been in bed +for an age, though actually the time was not longer than an hour. + +It had been late when he had left the room downstairs. And now he +listened for sounds that would tell him that Okar's citizens were still +busy with their pleasures. + +But no sound came from the street. Maison yearned for company, for he +felt unaccountably depressed and morbid. It was as though some danger +impended and instinct was warning him of it. + +But in the dead silence of Okar there was no suggestion of sound. It +must have been in the ghostly hours between midnight and the +dawn--though a cold terror that had gripped Maison would not let him +get up to look at the clock that ticked monotonously on the sideboard. + +He lay, clammy with sweat, every sense strained and acute, listening. +For, from continued contemplation of imaginary dangers he had worked +himself into a frenzy which would have turned into a conviction of real +danger at the slightest sound near him. + +He expected sound to come; he waited for it, his ears attuned, his +senses alert. + +And at last sound came. + +It was a mere creak--such a sound as a foot might make on a stairway. +And it seemed to have come from the stairs leading to Maison's rooms. + +He did not hear it again, though, and he might have fought off the new +terror that was gripping him, if at that instant he had not remembered +that when leaving the lower room he had forgotten to lock the rear +door--the door through which Morley had entered earlier in the evening; +the door through which Silverthorn had departed. + +He had not locked that door, and that noise on the stairs might have +been made by some night prowler. + +Aroused to desperation by his fears he started to get out of bed with +the intention of getting the revolver that lay in a drawer in the +sideboard. + +His feet were on the floor as he sat on the edge of the bed preparatory +to standing, when he saw the door at the head of the stairs slowly +swing open and a figure of a man appear in the opening. + +The light in the room was faint--a mere luminous star-mist--hut Maison +could see clearly the man's face. He stiffened, his hands gripping the +bedclothing, as he muttered hoarsely: + +"Sanderson!" + +Sanderson stepped into the room and closed the door. The heavy +six-shooter in his hand was at his hip, the long barrel horizontal, the +big muzzle gaping forebodingly into Maison's face. There was a cold, +mirthless grin on Sanderson's face, but it seemed to Maison that the +grin was the wanton expression of murder lust. + +He knew, without Sanderson telling him, that if he moved, or made the +slightest outcry, Sanderson would kill him. + +Therefore he made neither move nor sound, but sat there, rigid and +gasping for breath, awaiting the other's pleasure. + +Sanderson came close to him, speaking in a vibrant whisper: + +"Anyone in the house with you? If you speak above a whisper I'll blow +you apart!" + +"I'm alone!" gasped Maison. + +Sanderson laughed lowly. "You must have known I was comin'. Did you +expect me? Well--" when Maison did not answer--"you left the rear door +open. Obliged to you. + +"You know what I came for? No?" His voice was still low and vibrant. +"I came to talk over what happened at Devil's Hole." + +Maison's eyes bulged with horror. + +"I see you know about it, all right. I'm glad of that. Seven men +murdered; three thousand head of cattle gone. Mebbe they didn't all go +into the quicksand--I don't know. What I do know is this: they've got +to be paid for--men an' cattle. Understand? Cattle an' men." + +The cold emphasis he laid on the "and" made a shiver run over the +banker. + +"Money will pay for cattle," went on Sanderson. "I'll collect a man +for every man you killed at Devil's Hole." + +He laughed in feline humor when Maison squirmed at the words. + +"You think your life is more valuable than the life of any one of the +men you killed at Devil's Hole, eh? Soapy was worth a hundred like +you! An' Sogun--an' all the rest! Understand? They were real men, +doin' some good in the world. I'm tellin' you this so you'll know that +I don't think you amount to a hell of a lot, an' that I wouldn't suffer +a heap with remorse if you'd open your trap for one little peep an' I'd +have to blow your guts out!" + +A devil of conscience had finally visited Maison--a devil in the flesh. +For all the violent passions were aflame in Sanderson's face, repressed +but needing only provocation to loose them. + +Maison knew what impended. But he succeeded in speaking, though the +words caught, stranglingly, in his throat: + +"W-what do you--want?" + +"Ninety thousand dollars. The market price for three thousand head of +cattle." + +"There isn't that much in the vaults!" protested Maison in a gasping +whisper. "We never keep that amount of money on hand." + +He would have said more, but he saw Sanderson's grin become bitter; saw +the arm holding the six-shooter stiffen suggestively. + +Maison raised his hands in horror. + +"Wait!" he said, pleadingly. "I'll see. Good God, man, keep the +muzzle of that gun away!" + +"Ninety thousand will do it," Sanderson grimly told him, "ninety +thousand. No less. You can ask that God you call on so reckless to +have ninety thousand in the vault when you go to look for it, right +away. + +"Get up an' dress!" he commanded. + +He stood silently watching the banker as the latter got into his +clothing. Then, with a wave of his gun in the direction of the stairs +he ordered Maison to precede him. He kept close to the banker in the +darkness of the rooms through which they passed, and finally when they +reached the little room into which opened the big doors of the +vault--embedded in solid masonry--Sanderson again spoke: + +"I want it in bills of large denomination." The banker was on his +knees before the doors, working at the combination, and he looked +around in silent objection at Sanderson's voice. + +"Big ones, I said," repeated the latter. "You've got them. I was in +Silverthorn's rooms some hours ago, lookin' over his books an' things. +I saw a note there, showin' that he'd deposited fifty thousand here the +day before yesterday. The note said it was cash. You'll have forty +thousand more. If you ain't got it you'll wish you had." + +Maison had it. He drew it out in packages--saffron-hued notes that he +passed back to Sanderson reluctantly. When he had passed back the +exact amount he looked around. + +Sanderson ordered him to close the doors, and with the banker preceding +him they returned to the upper room, where Sanderson distributed the +money over his person securely, the banker watching him. + +When Sanderson had finished, he again spoke. There was elation in his +eyes, but they still were aflame with the threat of death and violence. + +"Who's the biggest an' most honest man in town?" he said, "the one man +that the folks here always think of when they're in trouble an' want a +square deal? Every town always has such a man. Who is he?" + +"Judge Graney," said Maison. + +"All right," declared Sanderson. "We'll go see Judge Graney. You're +goin' to lead me to the place where he lives. We're goin' to have him +witness that you've paid me ninety thousand dollars for the stock you +destroyed--my cattle. He's goin' to be all the law I'm goin' to depend +on--in this case. After a while--if you sneaks go too strong--I'll let +loose a little of my own law--the kind I've showed you tonight. + +"You're goin' to Judge Graney's place, an' you're goin' to sign a paper +showin' you paid me the money for my cattle. You ain't goin' to make +any noise on the way, or to Judge Graney. You're goin' to do the +talkin' an' tell Graney that you want him to witness the deal. An' +you're goin' to do it without him gettin' wise that I'm forcin' you. +You'll have to do some actin', an' if you fall down on this job you'll +never have to act again! Get goin'!" + +Maison was careful not to make any noise as he went down the stairs; he +was equally careful when he reached the street. + +In a short time, Sanderson walking close behind him, he halted at a +door of a private dwelling. He knocked on the door, and a short, squat +man appeared in the opening, holding a kerosene lamp in one hand and a +six-shooter in the other. + +He recognized Maison instantly and politely asked him and his visitor +inside. There Maison stated his business, and the judge, though +revealing some surprise that so big a transaction should be concluded +at so uncommon an hour, attested the paper made out by Maison, and +signed the receipt for ninety thousand dollars written by Sanderson and +given to the banker. Then, still followed by Sanderson, the banker +went out. + +There was no word spoken by either of the men until they again reached +the bank building. Then it was Sanderson who spoke. + +"That's all, Maison," he said. "Talk, if you must--mebbe it'll keep +you from explodin'. But if there's any more meddlin' with my +affairs--by you--I'm comin' for you again. An' the next time it'll be +to make you pay for my men!" + +He slipped behind the bank building and was gone. A little later, +still standing where Sanderson had left him, he saw the Double A man +riding swiftly across country toward the neck of the basin. + +Maison went slowly upstairs, lighted a lamp, and looked at his +reflection in a glass. He sighed, blew out the light, got into bed and +stretched out in relief, feeling that he had got out of the affair +cheaply enough, considering all things. + +And remembering what Sanderson had told him about returning, he +determined that if Judge Graney said nothing of the occurrence he would +never mention it. For he did not want Sanderson to pay him another +visit. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A MAN FROM THE ABYSS + +At about the time Sanderson was entering Okar, Alva Dale was letting +himself into the door of his office at the Bar D ranchhouse. Dale's +thoughts, because of the sensuous longing with which he had always +looked upon Peggy Nyland, had become abysmal. Silverthorn had warned +him that the dragging of a woman into the plot would be fatal to their +aims, but Dale had paid no heed to Silverthorn. During the day he had +kept thinking of the girl until now he could no longer restrain +himself. His face was bestial with passion as he entered his office. + +Inside the office he lighted a lamp and seated himself at his desk. +There, with a pair of shears and a piece of black cloth, he fashioned a +mask. He donned the mask and peered at himself in a mirror, grinning +with satisfaction over the reflection. Had he not known himself for +Alva Dale he would have been fooled by the covering. + +Working swiftly, he changed his clothes. Then, after again looking at +his reflection, he put out the light, stepped outside, locked the door, +and mounted his horse. + +Riding a ridge above a shallow arroyo he came upon a little level near +a grove of cottonwood trees. He circled one side of the grove, and in +a clearing he saw the Nyland cabin. + +He had visited the cabin before, but never had he felt about it as he +felt at this moment. There had always been the presence of Ben Nyland +to dampen the romantic thoughts that had beset him--for there had been +a time when--if Peggy Nyland had been willing--he would have married +her. + +That time had passed. Dale grinned wickedly as he dismounted and +walked forward. + +There was no light showing in any of the windows, and Dale stepped +stealthily to the rear door and knocked. + +There was no answer; and Dale repeated the blows. Then he grinned With +delight as he heard Peggy's voice, high-pitched and startled, saying: + +"Who's there?" + +"It's me--Sanderson," he returned. "I've come for you!" + +"What for?" This time there was alarm in the girl's voice, and Dale +heard her walk across the floor and halt at the door. He mentally +visualized her, standing there, one ear against the panel. + +"Didn't they tell you?" he said in a hoarse voice, into which he +succeeded in getting much pretended anger. "Why, I sent a man over +here with word." + +"Word about what?" + +Dale heard the girl fumbling at the fastenings of the door, and he knew +that his imitation of Sanderson's voice had deceived her. + +"Word that Ben was hurt," he lied. "The east train hit him as it was +pullin' in. He's bad off, but the doc says he'll come around if he +gets good nursin', an' that's why I've come----" + +While he was talking the door burst open and Peggy appeared in the +opening, her eyes wide with concern and eagerness. + +She had heard Dale's first knock on the door, and knowing it was +someone for her--perhaps Ben returning--she had begun to dress, +finishing--except for her shoes and stockings--by the time she opened +the door. + +In the dim light she did not at first see the mask on Dale's face, and +she was insistently demanding to be told just where Ben's injuries +were, when she detected the fraud. + +Then she gasped and stepped back, trying to close the door. She would +have succeeded had not Dale thrust a foot into the aperture. + +She stamped at his foot with her bare one ineffectually. Dale laughed +at her futile efforts to keep him from opening the door. He struck an +arm through the aperture, leaned his weight against the door, and +pushed it open. + +She was at the other side of the room when he entered, having dodged +behind a table. He made a rush for her, but she evaded him, keeping +the table between them. + +There was no word said. The girl's breath was coming in great gasps +from the fright and shock she had received, but Dale's was shrill and +laboring from the strength of his passions. + +Reason left him as they circled around the table, and with a curse he +overturned it so that it rolled and crashed out of the way, leaving her +with no obstacle behind which to find shelter. + +She ran toward the door, but Dale caught her at the threshold. She +twisted and squirmed in his grasp, scratching him and clawing at his +face in an access of terror, and one hand finally caught the black mask +covering and tore it from his face. + +"Alva Dale!" she shrieked. "Oh, you beast!" + +Fighting with redoubled fury she forced him against one of the door +jambs, still scratching and clawing. Dale grasped one hand, but the +free one reached his face, the fingers sinking into the flesh and +making a deep gash in his cheek. + +The pain made a demon of Dale, and he struck her. She fell, +soundlessly, her head striking the edge of a chair with a deadening, +thudding crash. + +Standing in the doorway looking down at her, the faint, outdoor light +shining on her face and revealing its ghastly whiteness, Dale suffered +a quick reaction. He had not meant to strike so hard, he told himself; +he hoped he had not killed her. + +Kneeling beside her he felt her pulse and her head. The flesh under +his hand was cold as marble; the pulse--if there was any--was not +perceptible. Dale examined the back of her head, where it had struck +the chair. He got up, his face ashen and convulsed with horror. + +"Good Lord!" he muttered hoarsely, "she's dead--or dying. I've done it +now!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE GUNMAN + +Dale's first decision was to leave Peggy in the cabin. But she might +recover, and she had recognized him. Ben Nyland would exact stern +vengeance for the outrage. + +Dale stood for some seconds in the doorway, his brain working rapidly. +Then he leaped inside the cabin, took the girl up in his arms, carried +her to his horse, mounted, and with the limp, sagging body in his arms +rode into the night. + +Reaction, also, was working on Banker Maison. Though more than an hour +had passed since he had got into bed, following the departure of his +nocturnal visitor, he had not slept a wink. His brain revolving the +incidents of the night--it had been a positive panorama of vivid +horrors. + +The first gray streak of dawn was splitting the horizon when he gave it +up, clambered out of bed and poured a generous drink from the bottle on +the sideboard. + +"God, a man needs something like this to brace him up after such a +night!" he declared. + +He took a second drink from the bottle, and a third. In the act of +pouring a fourth he heard a sound at the back door, and with a gulp of +terror he remembered that he had again forgotten to lock it. + +Sanderson undoubtedly was returning! + +Again Maison's body became clammy with a cold sweat. He stood in the +room near the sideboard, tremblingly listening. For again there was a +step on the stairs. + +When he saw the door begin to open his knees knocked together, but +there entered, not the dread apparition he expected, but Alva Dale, +with the limp form of a woman in his arms! + +The sudden breaking of the tension, and astonishment over what he saw, +made Maison's voice hoarse. + +"What's up now?" he demanded. + +"Hell!" muttered Dale. He told Maison the whole story--with some +reservations. + +"I was sparkin' her--like I've been doin' for a long time. We had a +tiff over--over somethin'--an' I pushed her. She fell over, hittin' +her head." + +"You damned fool!" snapped Maison. Dale was not Sanderson, and Maison +felt the authority of his position. "This is Peggy Nyland, isn't it? +She's the girl Silverthorn was telling me about--that you're sweet on. +You damned fool. Can't you let the women alone when we're in a deal +like this! You'll ruin the whole thing! Get her out of here!" + +Dale eyed the other sullenly, his face bloating with rage. + +"Look here, Maison; you quit your infernal yappin'. She stays here. I +thought at first I'd killed her an' I was goin' to plant her. But +she's been groanin' a little while I've been comin' here, an' there's a +chance for her. Go get the doctor." + +"What about her brother?" demanded Maison. "He's a shark with a gun, +they tell me, an' a tiger when he's aroused. If he finds out about +this he'll kill both of us." + +Dale grinned saturninely. "I'll take care of the brother," he said. +"You get the doc--an' be damned quick about it!" + +Maison went out, and in five minutes returned with the doctor. The +latter worked for more than an hour with Peggy, and at last succeeded +in reviving her. + +But though Peggy opened her eyes, there was no light of reason in +them--only the vacuous, unseeing stare of a dulled and apathetic brain. + +"She's got an awful whack," said the doctor. "It's cracked her skull. +It'll be weeks before she gets over it--if she ever does. I'll come +and see her tomorrow." + +The doctor came the next day--in the morning. He found the patient no +better. A woman, hired by Dale, was caring for the girl. + +Also, in the morning, Dale paid a visit. His visit was to Dal Colton, +the man Dale had employed to kill Sanderson, and who had so signally +failed. + +The scene of the meeting between Dale and Colton was in the rear room +of the City Hotel. + +"Look here," said Dale. "This deal can't be no whizzer like you run in +on Sanderson. He's got to be dropped, or things are goin' to happen to +all of us. His name's Nyland--Ben Nyland. You know him?" + +Colton nodded. "Plenty. He's a fast man with a gun. I'll have to get +him when he ain't lookin'. You'll get me clear?" + +"No one will know about it," declared Dale. "You go out to his ranch +an' lay for him. He'll be in on the afternoon train. When he comes +into the door of his house, nail him. That's easy." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +CONCERNING A WOMAN + +Day was breaking when Sanderson rode in to the Double A corral and +dismounted. Several of the men of the outfit were astir, and he called +to one of them, and told the man to care for his horse. He grinned +around at them all, and then went into the house. + +Mary Bransford was not yet up. The door that Sanderson had gone out of +the night before was still unlocked. He opened it and entered, passing +through the sitting-room and halting in the kitchen. He had noted that +the door to Mary's room was closed. + +Sanderson's dominant emotion was that of grim satisfaction. He had +compelled Maison to disgorge the money without jeopardizing his own +liberty. Judge Graney's word would suffice to prove his case should +Maison proceed against him. + +But Sanderson had little fear that Maison would attempt reprisal. If +he had judged the man correctly, Maison would not talk, even to +Silverthorn. + +Sanderson cared very little if he did talk. He had reached the point +where the killing of his enemies would come easy to him. They had +chosen lawlessness, and he could wage that kind of warfare as well as +they. He had shown them that he could. + +He disclosed the visible proof of his ability. One by one he drew the +packages of currency from various pockets, tossing them at random on +the kitchen table. He was standing at the table, counting the bills in +one of the packages, when he heard a sound behind him. He wheeled, to +confront Mary Bransford. + +She was dressed, but her face was as yet unwashed, and her hair +uncombed. She stood in the doorway between the dining-room and the +kitchen, looking at Sanderson in sleepy-eyed bewilderment. + +"I saw you riding in," she said. "Where on earth have you been at this +hour? You came from the direction of Okar." + +"Business," he grinned. + +"Business! Why, what kind of business could take you to Okar during +the night?" + +"If you could get the sleep out of your eyes," he suggested, "mebbe you +could see. It's the kind of business that all the world is interested +in--gettin' the money." + +And then she saw the packages of bills. She rubbed her eyes as though +in doubt of the accuracy of her vision; they grew wide and bright with +astonishment and wonder, and she gave a little, breathless gasp as she +ran forward to the table and looked down at the mound of wealth. + +And then, convinced that her senses had not played her a trick, her +face whitened, she drew a long breath, and turned to Sanderson, +grasping the lapels of his coat and holding them tightly. + +"Sanderson," she said in an awed voice, "what have you done? Where did +you get that money?" + +He told her, and her eyes dilated. "What a reckless thing to do!" she +said. "They might have killed you!" + +"Maison was havin' thoughts the other way round," he grinned. "He was +mighty glad I didn't make him pay for the men he killed." + +"They'll be after you--they'll kill you for that!" she told him. + +"Shucks," he laughed. He showed her the document written and signed by +Maison, and attested by Judge Graney: + + +This is to certify that I have tonight paid to Deal Sanderson the sum +of ninety thousand dollars for three thousand head of cattle received +to my full satisfaction. + + +"There ain't no comeback to that!" exulted Sanderson. "Now we'll start +buildin' that dam. Mebbe, though," he added, grinning at her, "if you +knew where a mighty hungry man could find a good cook that would be +willin' to rustle some grub, there'd be----" + +She laughed. "Right away!" she said, and went outside to perform her +ablutions. + +Sanderson, while she was outside, counted out ten thousand dollars and +put it into a pocket. Then he piled the remainder of the money neatly +on the table. When Mary came in, her face glowing, her hair freshly +combed, he stood and looked at her with admiration in his eyes, and a +great longing in his heart. + +"I've dreamed of seein' you that way," he said. + +"As your cook?" she demanded, reddening. + +"A man's grub would taste a heap better if his wife did the cookin'," +he said, his face sober. + +"Why--why--" she said; "do you mean----" + +"I wouldn't be finicky if--if my wife was doin' my cookin'," he +declared, his own face crimson. "I wouldn't kick if she gave me the +same kind of grub every mornin'--if it was she I've wanted." + +"Why, Sanderson! Is this----" + +"It's a proposal, ma'am. I can't say what I want to say--what I've +figured on sayin' to you. I don't seem to be able to find the words I +wanted to use. But you'll understand, ma'am." + +"That you want a cook more than you want a--a wife? Oh, Sanderson!" +she mocked. + +She knew that it was bashfulness that had caused him to mention the +cooking; that he had introduced the subject merely for the purpose of +making an oblique start; but she could not resist the temptation to +taunt him. + +She looked furtively at him to see how deeply she had hurt him, but was +surprised to see him grinning widely. + +"Women ain't so wise as they pretend to be," he said. "There's grub, +an' grub. An' what kind of grub is it that a man in love wants most?" + +She caught his meaning, now, and blushed rosy red, drooping her eyes +from his. + +"That wasn't fair, Sanderson," she said lowly. "Besides, a man can't +live on kisses." + +"I know a man who can," he smiled, his eyes eager and glowing, now that +he saw she was not going to repel him; "that is," he added lowly, "if +he could find a cook that would give them to him whenever he wanted +them. But it would take a lot of them, an' they'd have to be given +with the cook's consent. Do you think you could----" + +He paused and looked at her, for her eyes were shining and her lips +were pursed in a way that left no doubt of the invitation. + +"Why, Mary!" he said, as he caught her in his arms. + +For a time the money lay on the table unnoticed and forgotten, and +there was an eloquent silence in the kitchen. + +A little later, Barney Owen, passing close to the kitchen +window--having seen the men caring for Sanderson's horse, and learning +from them that Sanderson had come in early after having apparently been +out all night--heard Sanderson's voice issuing from the kitchen: + +"There's a difference in kisses; them that you gave me when you thought +I was your brother wasn't half so thrillin' as----" + +Owen stiffened and stood rigid, his face whitening. + +And then again he heard Sanderson's voice: + +"There's a judge in Okar--Judge Graney. An' if you'd consider gettin' +married today, ma'am, why----" + +"Why, Sanderson!" came Mary's voice in mild reproof. + +"Well, then," sounded Sanderson's voice, full of resignation this time; +"have it your way; I don't want to hurry you." + +"Hurry me? Oh, no!" laughed the girl in gentle mockery. Whereat they +both laughed. The sound of it must have pleased Owen, for he, too, +laughed as he left the window and went toward the bunkhouse. + +An hour later Sanderson emerged from the house, threw saddle and bridle +on Streak, and rode out into the basin to a camp where he found Kent +Williams and his men. He gave the engineer the package of bills he had +taken from the table. + +"Here is ten thousand dollars," he said. "You take your men, ride over +to Lazette, get your supplies, an' hustle them right back here. It +ain't likely there'll be any more trouble, but we ain't takin' any +chances. My men ain't got any more cattle to bother with, an' they'll +go with you an' your men to Lazette, an' come back with the wagons to +see that they ain't interfered with. Start as soon as you can get +ready." + +"Within an hour the engineer, his men, and the men of the Double A +outfit were on the move. Barney Owen did not go. He sat on one of the +top rails of the corral fence, alternately watching the men of the +outfit as they faded into the vast space toward Lazette, and Mary +Bransford and Sanderson, as they stood on the porch, close together, +likewise watching the men. + +"I'd say--if anyone was to ask me--that there is a brother who seems to +have been forgotten," said Owen with a curious smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A MAN IS AROUSED + +The coming of the dawn and the comforting contact with other human +beings, brought Banker Maison relief from the terrifying fear that had +gripped him during the night. He became almost courageous after +breakfast, and began to think that perhaps he had yielded too readily +to Sanderson's demands. + +As the hours passed and the memory of the night's horror grew more +distant, he began to feel indignant over the treatment accorded him by +Sanderson. Later the indignation grew to a deep and consuming rage, +and he entertained thoughts of his power and influence and of the +comparative unimportance of the grim-faced man who had robbed him. + +Robbed him--that was it! Sanderson had robbed him! + +The more Maison's thoughts dwelt upon the occurrence the deeper grew +his rage. He even condoned Dale's action in bringing the Nyland girl +to his rooms. Dale was his friend, and he would protect him! + +Perhaps Maison did not reflect that his greed was attempting to justify +him; that back of his growing championship of Dale was his eagerness to +get possession of the Nyland property; and that behind his rage over +Sanderson's visit was the bitter thought that Sanderson had compelled +him to pay for the destroyed and stolen steers. + +Maison did not consider that phase of the question. Or if he did +consider it he did not permit that consideration to influence his +actions. For within two hours after breakfast he had sent a messenger +for Silverthorn and Dale, and fifteen minutes later he was telling them +the story of the night's happenings. + +Silverthorn's face grew purple with rage during the recital. At its +conclusion he got up, dark purpose glinting in his eyes. + +"We've got to put Sanderson out of the way, and do it quickly!" he +declared. "And we've got to get that money back. Dale, you're a +deputy sheriff. Damn the law! This isn't a matter for court +action--that damned Graney wouldn't give us a warrant for Sanderson +now, no matter what we told him! We've got to take the law into our +own hands. We'll see if this man can come in here, rob a bank, and get +away without being punished!" + +At the end of a fifteen-minute talk, Dale slipped out of the rear door +of the bank and sought the street. In the City Hotel he whispered to +several men, who sauntered out of the building singly, mounted their +horses, and rode toward the neck of the basin. In another saloon Dale +whispered to several other men, who followed the first ones. + +Dale's search continued for some little time, and he kept a continuous +stream of riders heading toward the neck of the basin. And then, when +he had spoken to as many as he thought he needed, he mounted his own +horse and, rode away. + + +Sanderson and Mary Bransford had not yet settled the question regarding +the disposal of the money Sanderson had received from Banker Maison. +They sat on the edge of the porch, talking about it. From a window of +the bunkhouse Barney Owen watched them, a pleased smile on his face. + +"It's yours," Sanderson told the girl. "An' we ain't trustin' _that_ +to any bank. Look what they did with the seven thousand I've got in +the Lazette bank. They've tied it up so nobody will be able to touch +it until half the lawyers in the county have had a chance to gas about +it. An' by that time there won't be a two-bit piece left to argue +over. No, siree, you've got to keep that coin where you can put your +hands on it when you want it!" + +"When _you_ want it," she smiled. "Do you know, Deal," she added +seriously, blushing as she looked at him, "that our romance has been so +much different from other romances that I've heard about. It has +seemed so--er--matter of fact." + +He grinned. "All romances--real romances--are a heap matter of fact. +Love is the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. When a guy meets a +girl that he takes a shine to--an' the girl takes a shine to him--there +ain't anything goin' to keep them from makin' a go of it." + +He reddened a little. + +"That's what I thought when I saw you. Even when the Drifter was +tellin' me about you, I was sure of you." + +"I think you have shown it in your actions," she laughed. + +"But how about you?" he suggested; "did you have any thoughts on the +subject?" + +"I--I think that even while I thought you were my brother, I realized +that my feeling for you was strange and unusual; though I laid it to +the fact that I had never had a brother, and therefore could not be +expected to know just how a sister should feel toward one. But it has +all been unusual, hasn't it?" + +"If you mean me comin' here like I did, an' masqueradin', an' lettin' +you kiss me, an' fuss over me--why, mebbe that would be considered +unusual. But love ain't unusual; an' a man fightin' for the woman he +loves ain't unusual." + +While he had been talking a change had come over him. His voice had +lost its note of gentle raillery, his lips had straightened into hard +lines, his eyes were glowing with the light she had seen in them more +than once--the cold glitter of hostility. + +Startled, she took him by the shoulders and shook him. + +"Why, what on earth has come over you, Deal?" + +He grinned mirthlessly, got up, took a hitch in his cartridge belt, and +drew a full breath. + +"The fightin' ain't over yet," he said. "There's a bunch of guys +comin' toward the Double A. Dale's gang, most likely--after the money +I took from Maison." + +She was on her feet now, and looking out into the basin. Two or three +miles away, enveloped in huge dust cloud, were a number of riders. +They were coming fast, and headed directly for the Double A ranchhouse. + +The girl clung to Sanderson's arm in sudden terror until he gently +released himself, and taking her by the shoulders forced her through a +door and into the sitting-room. + +"Hide that money in a safe place---where the devil himself couldn't +find it. Don't give it up, no matter what happens." + +He walked to a window and looked out. Behind him he could hear Mary +running here and there; and at last when the riders were within half a +mile of the house, she came and stood behind Sanderson, panting, +resting her hands on his shoulders to peer over them at the coming +riders. + +Sanderson turned and smiled at her. "We'll go out on the porch, now, +an' wait for them." + +"Deal," she whispered excitedly; "why don't you go away? Get on +Streak--he'll outrun any horse in the county! Go! Get Williams and +the other boys. Deal!" She shook him frenziedly. "It isn't the money +they are after--it's you! They'll kill you, Deal! And there are so +many of them! Run--run!" + +He grinned, patting her shoulder as he led her out upon the porch and +forced her into a chair. + +When the men had come near enough for him to distinguish their faces, +and he saw that Dale was leading them, he walked to a slender porch +column and leaned against it, turning to smile at Mary. + +"Maison decided he'd have to talk, looks like," he said. "Some men +just can't help it." + +Rigid in her chair, the girl watched the riders swoop toward the +ranchhouse; Sanderson, lounging against the porch column, smiled +saturninely. + +The riders headed directly toward the porch. Sanderson counted them as +they came to a halt within thirty feet of the edge of the porch. There +were twenty of them. + +Dale, his face flushed, his eyes alight with triumph, dismounted and +stepped forward, halting at the edge of the porch and sweeping his hat +from his head with exaggerated courtesy. + +"Delighted to see you, ma'am--an' your friend, Deal Sanderson. Mr. +Sanderson paid my friend Maison a visit last night, takin' away with +him ninety thousand dollars of the bank's money. Me an' my men has +come over to get the money--an' Mr. Sanderson. The Okar court allows +that it needs him. I've got a warrant for him." + +Dale's grin was huge. He felt secure with his men behind him. + +But if he expected Sanderson to be impressed he was disappointed. The +latter's face did not change color, nor did he shift his position in +the slightest manner. And his cold, amused grin disconcerted Dale. +His voice, when he spoke, was gentle and drawling: + +"Was you thinkin' Miss Bransford is interested in warrants, Dale? Oh, +don't! There's an honest judge in Okar, an' he ain't helpin' Maison's +gang. Get back to Okar an' tell Maison that Sanderson ain't visitin' +Okar today." + +"You ain't, eh!" Dale's voice snapped with rage. "Well, we ain't +carin' a damn whether you do or not! We've got you, right where we +want you. I've got a warrant, an' you'll come peaceable or we'll plant +you! There ain't only two horses in the corral--showing that your men +has gone. An' there ain't anything between you an' the coyotes!" + +"Only you, Dale," said Sanderson. His voice was still gentle, still +drawling. But into it had come a note that made Dale's face turn pale +and caused the bodies of the men in the group to stiffen. + +"Only you, Dale," Sanderson repeated. His right hand was at his hip, +resting lightly on the butt of the six-shooter that reposed in its +holster. + +"I've always wanted to test the idea of whether a crook like you +thought more of what he was doin' than he did of his own life. This +gun leather of mine is kind of short at the top--if you'll notice. The +stock an' the hammer of the gun are where they can be touched without +interferin' with the leather. There ain't any trigger spring, because +I've been brought up to fan the hammer. There ain't any bottom to the +holster, an' it's hung by a little piece of leather so's it'll turn +easy in any direction. + +"It can easy be turned on you. You get goin'. I'll have a chance to +bore one man before your crowd gets me. Likely it will be you. What +are you sayin'?" + +Dale was saying nothing. His face changed color, he shifted his feet +uneasily, and looked back at his men. Some of them were grinning, and +it was plain to Dale that not one of them would act unless ordered to +do so. + +And an order, given by him, would mean suicide, nothing less; for from +that country in which Sanderson had gained his reputation had come +stories of the man's remarkable ability with the weapon he had +described, and Dale had no longing to risk his life so recklessly. + +There was a long, tense silence. Not a man in the group of riders +moved a finger. All were gazing, with a sort of dread fascination, at +the holster at Sanderson's right hip, and at the butt of the gun in it, +projecting far, the hammer in plain sight. + +The situation could not last. Sanderson did not expect it to last. +Seemingly calm and unconcerned, he was in reality passionately alert +and watchful. + +For he had no hope of escaping from this predicament. He had made a +mistake in sending his men away with Williams, and he knew the chances +against him were too great. He had known that all along--even when +talking and comforting Mary Bransford. + +He knew that Dale had come to kill him; that Graney had not issued any +warrant for him, for Graney knew that Maison had acted of his own +volition--or at least had given the judge that impression. + +But whether the warrant was a true one or not, Sanderson had decided +that he would not let himself be taken. He had determined that at the +first movement made by any man in the group he would kill Dale and take +his chance with the others. + +Dale knew it--he saw the cold resolution in Sanderson's eyes. Dale +drew a deep breath, and the men in the group behind him watched him +narrowly. + +But just when it seemed that decisive action in one direction or +another must he taken, there came an interruption. + +Behind Sanderson--from one of the windows of the ranchhouse--came a +hoarse curse. + +Sanderson saw Dale's eyes dilate; he saw the faces of the men in the +group of riders change color; he saw their hands go slowly upward. +Dale, too, raised his hands. + +Glancing swiftly over his shoulder, Sanderson saw Barney Owen at one of +the windows. He was inside the house, his arms were resting on the +window-sill. He was kneeling, and in his hands was a rifle, the muzzle +covering Dale and the men who had come with him. + +Owen's face was chalk white and working with demoniac passion. His +eyes were wild, and blazing with a wanton malignancy that awed every +man who looked at him--Sanderson included. His teeth were bared in a +horrible snarl; the man was like some wild animal--worse, the savage, +primitive passions of him were unleashed and rampant, directed by a +reasoning intelligence. His voice was hoarse and rasping, coming in +jerks: + +"Get out of the way, Sanderson! Stand aside! I'll take care of these +whelps! Get your hands up, Dale! Higher--higher! You damned, +sneaking vulture! Come here to make trouble, eh? You and your bunch +of curs! I'll take care of you! Move--one of you! Move a finger! +You won't! Then go! Go! I'll count three! The man that isn't going +when I finish counting gets his quick! One--two----" + +"Wait!! Already on the move, the men halted at the sound of his voice. +The violence of the passion that gripped him gave him a new thought. + +"You don't go!" he jeered at them. "You stay here. Sanderson, you +take their guns! Grab them yourself!" + +Sanderson drew his own weapon and moved rapidly among the men. He got +Dale's gun first and threw it in the sand at the edge of the porch. +Then he disarmed the others, one after another, throwing the weapons +near where he had thrown Dale's. + +He heard Owen tell Mary Bransford to get them, and he saw Mary +gathering them up and taking them into the house. + +Sanderson made his search of the men thorough, for he had caught the +spirit of the thing. At last, when the guns were all collected, Owen +issued another order: + +"Now turn your backs--every last man of you! And stay that way! The +man that turns his head will never do it again! + +"Sanderson, you go after Williams and the others. They've only been +gone about an hour, and they won't travel fast. Get them! Bring them +back here. Then we'll take the whole bunch over to Okar and see what +Judge Graney has to say about that warrant!" + +Sanderson looked at Mary Bransford, a huge grin on his face. She +smiled stiffly at him in return, and nodded her head. + +Seemingly, it was the only way out of a bad predicament. Certainly +they could not commit wholesale murder, and it was equally certain that +if Dale was permitted to go, he and his men would return. Or they +might retire to a distance, surround the house and thus achieve their +aim. + +Sanderson, however, was not satisfied, for he knew that a sudden, +concerted rush by the men--even though they were unarmed--would result +disastrously to Owen--and to Mary--if she decided to remain. + +Telling the little man to keep a watchful eye on the men, he went among +them, ordering those that were mounted from their horses. When they +were all standing, he began to uncoil the ropes that were hanging from +the saddles. + +He worked fast, and looking up once he saw Owen's eyes glowing with +approval--while Mary smiled broadly at him. They knew what he meant to +do. + +Dale and his men knew also, for their faces grew sullen. Sanderson, +however, would tolerate no resistance. Rope in hand, he faced Dale. +The latter's face grew white with impotent fury as he looked at the +rope in Sanderson's hands; but the significant Hardness that flashed +into Sanderson's eyes convinced him of the futility of resistance, and +he held his hands outward. + +Sanderson tied them. Very little of the rope was required in the +process, and after Dale was secured, Sanderson threw a loop around the +hands of a man who stood beside Dale, linking him with the latter. + +Several others followed. Sanderson used half a dozen ropes, and when +he had finished, all the Dale men--with their leader on an extreme end, +were lashed together. + +There were hard words spoken by the men; but they brought only grins to +Sanderson's face, to Owen's, and to Mary's. + +"They won't bother you a heap, now," declared Sanderson as he stepped +toward the porch and spoke to Owen. "Keep an eye on them, though, an' +don't let them go to movin' around much." + +Sanderson stepped up on the porch and spoke lowly to Mary, asking her +to go with him after Williams--for he had had that thought in mind ever +since Owen had issued the order for him to ride after the engineer. + +But Mary refused, telling Sanderson that by accompanying him she would +only hamper him. + +Reluctantly, then, though swiftly, Sanderson ran to the corral, threw +saddle and bridle on Streak, and returned to the porch. He halted +there for a word with Owen and Mary, then raced northeastward, +following a faint trail that Williams and the others had taken, which +led for a time over the plains, then upward to the mesa which rimmed +the basin. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +A MAN IS HANGED + +Sanderson and Streak grew dim in the distance until, to the watchers at +the ranchhouse, horse and rider merged into a mere blot that crawled up +the long slope leading to the mesa. The watchers saw the blot yet a +little longer, as it traveled with swift, regular leaps along the edge +of the mesa; then it grew fainter and fainter, and at last they saw it +no more. + +Dale's men, their backs to Owen and Mary, seemed to have accepted their +defeat in a spirit of resignation, for they made no attempt to turn +their heads. + +Mary, white and shaking, though with a calmness that came from the +knowledge that in this crisis she must do what she could, went inside +and stood behind Owen, ready to respond to any call he might make upon +her. + +Owen, his rage somewhat abated, though he still watched Dale and his +men with sullen, malevolent eyes, had changed his position. Mary had +brought a chair, and Owen sat on it, the rifle still resting on the +window-sill, menacing the men. + +The minutes, it seemed to the girl, passed with exceeding slowness. +She watched the hands of a clock on a shelf in the room drag themselves +across the face of the dial, and twice she walked in front of the shelf +and peered intently at the clock, to be certain it was going. + +Williams and the other men had been gone for something more than an +hour. But, as Owen had said, they would travel slowly, having no +incentive for haste. Sanderson, on the other hand, would make Streak +run his best--and she knew Streak could run. + +So she began to estimate the time that would elapse before Sanderson +and Williams returned. With an hour's start, she gave Sanderson +three-quarters of an hour to catch them. Then, three quarters of an +hour additional would be required for the run home--if they came back +as swiftly as Sanderson had gone. + +But she doubted that. She would give them a full hour for the return +trip. That would make an hour and three quarters. + +But it seemed to her that an age elapsed before the minute hand on the +clock dragged itself one-quarter of the distance around the circle. + +She looked out at Dale and his men. The men were all standing, their +backs to the house. But it seemed to the girl that they were standing +nearer to one another than they had been all along, and a pulse of +trepidation ran over her. + +Watching them closely, Mary felt they were meditating some action. +They were whispering to one another, and Dale was gesturing as +emphatically as he could. + +The girl was certain they contemplated concerted action of some sort, +and she was just about to apprise Owen of her fears, when she saw one +of the men--and then another and another--working with the ropes that +bound them. One of the men turned, a huge grin on his face. She +caught the flash of metal in the man's hands, saw the rope fall from +them, severed. + +She shouted, then, at Owen: + +"Look out, Barney; they've got a knife!" + +At the instant she spoke the men moved as though by prearrangement. By +the time her voice reached Owen's ears the men had scattered, running +in all directions. Several ran directly away from the house, others +toward it, some went toward the corners of the building nearest them. +All were running zigzag fashion. + +Owen, his eyes blazing, fired three times in rapid succession. One of +the men tumbled, headlong, turning over several times and landing face +downward on the sand of the yard; but several others, apparently +uninjured, ran straight for the ranchhouse. + +There were no stationary targets for Owen to shoot at. By the time he +had fired the three shots the men were all moving. Several the girl +saw as they ran around the ranchhouse; three or four others ran +straight for the door in which she stood. + +She cried sharply to Owen, and the latter fired once, as three or four +figures crossed the porch. The girl could not tell whether or not Dale +was one of the three, for the men moved quickly. + +Owen missed; Mary heard him curse. And before he had time to do either +again the men were inside. Mary was standing near Owen, and she had +reached down for one of the pistols that lay on the floor. + +By the time the men entered the door she had raised the weapon, and as +the first figure burst through the opening, she leveled the weapon and +pulled the trigger. + +The gun went off, but did no apparent damage, and before she could fire +again the men were upon her. She threw the heavy weapon into the face +of the man nearest her--she did not look at him; and ran through the +nearest door, which opened into the kitchen. She heard the man curse +as the weapon struck him full in the face, and she knew, then, that she +had struck Dale. + +In the kitchen the girl hesitated. She would have gone outside, on the +chance that the men there might not see her, but, hesitating at the +kitchen door, she saw a big man running toward it. + +So she turned and ran into the room she used as a pantry, slamming the +door behind her, bolting it and leaning against it, breathing heavily. + +She had not, however, escaped the eyes of the man who had been running +toward the kitchen door. She heard Dale's voice, asking one of the men +if he had seen her, and the latter answered: + +"She ducked into the pantry and closed the door." + +She heard a man step heavily across the kitchen floor, and an instant +later he was shoving against the door with a shoulder. + +"Bolted, eh?" he said with a short laugh. He walked away, and +presently returned. "Well, you'll keep," he said, "there ain't any +windows." + +She knew from his voice that the man was Dale. He had gone outside and +had seen there was no escape for her except through the door she had +barred. + +There came a silence except for the movements of the men, and the low +hum of their voices. She wondered what had become of Owen, but she did +not dare unbolt the door for fear that Dale might be waiting on the +other side of it. So, in the grip of a nameless terror she leaned +against the door and waited. + +She heard Dale talking to his men; he was standing near the door behind +which she stood, and she could hear him distinctly. + +"You guys hit the breeze after Sanderson. Kill him,--an' anybody +that's with him! Wipe out the whole bunch! I'll stay here an' make +the girl tell me where the coin is. Get goin', an' go fast, for +Sanderson will travel some!" + +The girl heard the boots of the men clatter on the floor as they went +out. Listening intently, she could hear the thudding of their horses' +hoofs as they fled. She shrank back from the door, looking hard at it, +wondering if it would hold, if it would resist Dale's efforts to burst +it open--as she knew he would try to do. + +She wished, now, that she had followed Sanderson's suggestion about +riding after Williams. This situation would not have been possible, +then. + +Working feverishly, she piled against the door all the available +articles and objects she could find. There were not many of them, and +they looked a pitifully frail barricade to her. + +A silence that followed was endured with her cringing against the +barricade. She had a hope that Dale would search for the money--that +he would find it, and go away without attempting to molest her. But +when she heard his step just outside the door, she gave up hope and +stood, her knees shaking, awaiting his first movement. + +It came quickly enough. She heard him; saw the door give just a trifle +as he leaned his weight against it. + +The movement made her gasp, and he heard the sound. + +"So you're still there, eh? Well, I thought you would be. Open the +door!" + +"Dale," she said, desperately, "get out of here! I'll tell you where +the money is--I don't want it." + +"All right," he said, "where is it?" + +"It's in the parlor; the packages are stuffed between the springs of +the lounge." + +He laughed, jeeringly. + +"That dodge don't go," he said in a voice that made her feel clammy all +over. "If it's there, all right. I'll get it. But the money can +wait. Open the door!" + +"Dale," she said, as steadily as she could, "if you try to get in here +I shall kill you!" + +"That's good," he laughed; "you threw your gun at me. It hit me, too. +Besides if you had a gun you'd be lettin' it off now--this door ain't +so thick that a bullet wouldn't go through it. Shoot!" + +Again there came a silence. She heard Dale walking about in the +kitchen. She heard him place a chair near the wall which divided the +pantry from the kitchen, and then for the first time she realized that +the partition did not reach entirely to the ceiling; that it rose to a +height only a few feet above her head. + +She heard Dale laugh, triumphantly, at just the instant she looked at +the top of the partition, and she saw one of Dale's legs come over. It +dangled there for a second; then the man's head and shoulders appeared, +with his hands gripping the top of the wall. + +She began to tear at the barricade she had erected, and had only +succeeded in partially demolishing it, when Dale swung his body over +the wall and dropped lightly beside her. + +She fought him with the only weapons she had, her hands, not waiting +for him to advance on her, but leaping at him in a fury and striking +his face with her fists, as she had seen men strike others. + +He laughed, deeply, scornfully, as her blows landed, mocking her +impotent resistance. Twice he seized her hands and swept them brutally +to her sides, where he held them--trying to grip them in one of his; +but she squirmed free and fought him again, clawing at his eyes. + +The nails of her fingers found his cheek, gashing it deeply. The pain +from the hurt made him furious. + +"Damn you, you devil, I'll fix you!" he cursed. And in an access of +bestial rage he tore her hands from his face, crushed them to her +sides, wrenching them cruelly, until she cried out in agony. + +Then, his face hideous, he seized her by the shoulders and crushed her +against the outside wall, so that her head struck it and she sagged +forward into his arms, unconscious. + + +The lock on Barney Owen's rifle had jammed just as Dale entered the +room, following the rush of the men to the outside door. He had +selected Dale as his target. + +He tried for a fatal instant to work the lock, saw his error, and swung +the weapon over his head in an attempt to brain the man nearest him. +The man dodged and the rifle slipped from Owen's hands and went +clattering to the floor. Then the man struck with the butt of one of +the pistols he had picked up from the floor, and Owen went down in a +heap. + +When he regained consciousness the room was empty. For a time he lay +where he had fallen, too dizzy and faint to get to his feet; and then +he heard Dale's voice, saying: + +"A bullet wouldn't go through it. Shoot!" + +At the sound of Dale's voice a terrible rage, such as had seized Owen +at the moment he had stuck the rifle through the window, gripped him +now, and he sat up, swaying from the strength of it. He got to his +feet, muttering insanely, and staggered toward the kitchen door--from +the direction in which Dale's voice seemed to come. + +It took him some time to reach the door, and when he did get there he +was forced to lean against one of the jambs for support. + +But he gained strength rapidly, and peering around the door jamb he was +just in time to see Dale step on a chair and lift himself over the +partition dividing the kitchen from the pantry. + +Owen heard the commotion that followed Dale's disappearance over the +partition; he heard the succeeding crashes and the scuffling. Then +came Dale's voice: + +"Damn you, you devil, I'll fix you!" + +Making queer sounds in his throat, Owen ran into the sitting-room where +the weapons taken from the men had been piled. They were not there. +He picked up the rifle. By some peculiar irony the lock worked all +right for him now, but a quick look told him there were no more +cartridges in the magazine. He dropped the rifle and looked wildly +around for a another weapon. + +He saw a lariat hanging from a peg on the kitchen wall. It was +Sanderson's rope--Owen knew it. Sanderson had oiled it, and had hung +it from the peg to dry. + +Owen whined with joy when he saw it. His face working, odd guttural +sounds coming from his throat, Owen leaped for the rope and pulled it +from the peg. Swiftly uncoiling it, he glanced at the loop to make +sure it would run well; then with a bound he was on the chair and +peering over the top of the partition, the rope in hand, the noose +dangling. + +He saw Dale directly beneath it. The Bar D man was standing over Mary +Bransford. The girl was on her back, her white face upturned, her eyes +closed. + +Grinning with hideous joy, Owen threw the rope. The loop opened, +widened, and dropped cleanly over Dale's head. + +Dale threw up both hands, trying to grasp the sinuous thing that had +encircled his neck, but the little man jerked the rope viciously and +the noose tightened. The force of the jerk pulled Dale off his +balance, and he reeled against the partition. + +Before he could regain his equilibrium Owen leaned far over the top of +the partition. Exerting the last ounce of his strength Owen lifted, +and Dale swung upward, swaying like an eccentric pendulum, his feet +well off the floor. + +Dale's back was toward the wall, and he twisted and squirmed like a cat +to swing himself around so that he could face it. + +During the time Dale struggled to turn, Owen moved rapidly. Leaping +off the chair, keeping the rope taut over the top of the partition, +Owen ran across the kitchen and swiftly looped the end of the rope +around a wooden bar that was used to fasten the rear outside door. + +Then, running into the front room, he got the rifle, and returning to +the kitchen he got on the chair beside the partition. + +He could hear Dale cursing. The man's legs were thrashing about, +striking the boards of the partition. Owen could hear his breath as it +coughed in his throat. But the little man merely grinned, and crouched +on the chair, waiting. + +He was waiting for what he knew would come next. Dale would succeed in +twisting his body around before the rope could strangle him, he would +grasp the rope and pull himself upward until he could reach the top of +the partition with his hands. + +And while Owen watched and waited, Dale's hands came up and gripped the +top of the wall--both hands, huge and muscular. Owen looked at them +with great glee before he acted. Then he brought the stock of the +rifle down on one of the hands with the precision of a cold +deliberation that had taken possession of him. + +Dale screamed with the pain of the hurt, then cursed. But he still +gripped the top of the partition with the other hand. + +Owen grinned, and with the deliberation that had marked the previous +blow he again brought the rifle stock down, smashing the remaining +hand. That, too, disappeared, and Dale's screaming curses filled the +cabin. + +Owen waited. Twice more the hands came up, and twice more Owen crushed +them with the rifle butt. At last, though Owen waited for some time, +the hands came up no more. Then, slowly, cautiously, Owen stuck his +head over the top of the partition. + +Dale's head had fallen forward; he was swinging slowly back and forth, +his body limp and lax. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE AMBUSH + +Streak had done well, having slightly improved on the limit set for the +trip by Mary Bransford. With no delay whatever, Williams and his men +and the Double A cowpunchers were headed for the ranchhouse, their +horses running hard. + +Sanderson was leading them, though close behind came several of the +Double A men, their faces set and grim; and then one of Williams' men, +a young fellow who had admired Mary Bransford from afar; then some more +of the Double A men, and Williams and the remainder of his band of +engineers. + +There was no word spoken. In a few swift sentences Sanderson had told +them what had occurred, and there was no need for words as they fled +southwestward. + +For a few miles the trail was hard and smooth, and the posse made good +time. Then they struck a stretch of broken country, where volcanic +action had split the surface of the earth into fissures and chasms, +thus making speed impossible. + +It took them long to cross the section, and when it was behind them +they found themselves in a hilly country where the going was not much +better than it had been in the volcanic area. + +The trail was narrow, and they were forced to travel in single file. +Sanderson led the way, Streak thundering along, a living blot splitting +the brown, barren wasteland, followed closely by other blots, rushing +over the hazardous trail, the echoes of their passing creating a rumble +as of drumfire reverberating in a cañon. + +They came to a point where the trail led upward sharply, veering around +the shoulder of a hill and dropping precipitously into a valley. + +For an instant, as the riders flashed around the shoulder of the hill, +they caught a glimpse of a group of riders coming toward them, visible +to Sanderson and the others as they were for a second exposed to view +in a narrow defile. Then the view of them was cut off, and Sanderson +and the men following him were in the valley, riding desperately, as +before. + +Still there had been no word said. Sanderson had seen the oncoming +riders, but he attached no importance to their appearance, for +cowpunchers often rode in groups to some outlying camp, and these men +might belong to some ranch in the vicinity. + +There was a straight stretch of hard, smooth trail in the center of the +valley, and Sanderson made Streak take it with a rush. Sanderson +grinned grimly as he heard the other men coming close behind him--they +were as eager as he, and as vengeful. + +Up out of the valley went Streak, running with long, smooth leaps that +gave no indication of exhaustion; Sanderson patted his neck as he raced +upward out of the valley and into the defile where they had seen the +riders. + +Sanderson was halfway up the defile when he was assailed with the +thought that by this time--even before this--they should have met the +other riders--had the latter kept the trail. + +Struck by a sudden suspicion that there was something strange about the +disappearance of the riders, Sanderson abruptly pulled Streak up. The +other men were some distance behind, and Sanderson slipped out of the +saddle to give Streak a breathing spell. + +The movement saved his life, for his feet had hardly struck the ground +when he heard the thud of a rifle bullet, the sharp crash of the +weapon, and saw the leaden missile rip the leather on the cantle of the +saddle. + +As though the shot were a signal, there followed others--a ripping, +crashing volley. Sanderson saw the smoke spurts ballooning upward from +behind some rocks and boulders that dotted the hills on both sides of +the defile, he saw several of his men drop from their horses and fall +prone to the ground. + +He shouted to the men to leave their horses and "take cover," and he +himself sought the only cover near him--a wide fissure in the wall of +the long slope below the point where the attackers were concealed. + +Streak, apparently aware of the danger, followed Sanderson into the +shelter of the fissure. + +It was an admirable spot for an ambuscade. Sanderson saw that there +were few places in which his men could conceal themselves, for the +hostile force occupied both sides of the defile. Their rifles were +still popping, and Sanderson saw two of the Double A force go down +before they could find shelter. + +Sanderson divined what had happened--Dale and his men had overpowered +Owen, and had set this ambuscade for himself and the Double A men. + +Dale was determined to murder all of them; it was to be a fight to a +finish--that grim killing of an entire outfit, which, in the idiomatic +phraseology of the cowpuncher, is called a "clean-up." + +Sanderson was aware of the disadvantage which must be faced, but there +was no indication of fear or excitement in his manner. It was not the +first time he had been in danger, and he drew his belt tighter and +examined his pistols as he crouched against the ragged wall of the +fissure. Then, calling Streak to him, he pulled his rifle out of the +saddle holster and examined the magazine. + +Rifle in hand, he first surveyed the wall of the defile opposite him. +The crevice in which he was hiding was irregular at the entrance, and a +jutting shoulder of it concealed him from view from the wall of the +defile opposite him. Another projection, opposite the jutting +shoulder, protected him from any shots that might be aimed at him from +his left. + +The fissure ran, with sharp irregularities, clear up the face of the +wall behind him. He grinned with satisfaction when he saw that there +were a number of places along the upward line of the fissure which +would afford him concealment in an offensive battle with Dale's men. + +He contemplated making things rather warm for the Dale contingent +presently; but first he must make sure that none of his own men was +exposed to danger. + +Cautiously, then, he laid his head close to the ragged wall of the +fissure and peered upward and outward. Behind a big boulder on the +opposite side of the defile he saw a man's head appear. + +Watching for a time, Sanderson made certain the man was not one of his +own outfit, and then he shoved the muzzle of his rifle out, laid his +cheek against the stock, and covered the partly exposed head of the man +behind the boulder. + +Sanderson waited long with his cheek caressing the rifle stock, while +the man behind the boulder wriggled farther out, exposing himself more +and more in his eagerness to gain a more advantageous position. + +And presently, without moving his head, Sanderson discovered that it +was Williams who was in danger. + +Williams had concealed himself behind a jagged rock, which protected +him from the bullets fired from across the defile, and from the sides. +But the rock afforded him no protection from the rear, and the man +behind the boulder was going to take advantage of his opportunity. + +"That's my engineer, mister," he said grimly; "an' I ain't lettin' you +make me go to the trouble of sendin' east for another. You're ready +now, eh?" + +The man behind the boulder had reached a position that satisfied him. +Sanderson saw him snuggle the stock of his rifle against his shoulder. + +Sanderson's rifle cracked viciously. The man behind the boulder was +lying on a slight slope, and when Sanderson's bullet struck him, he +gently rolled over and began to slide downward. He came--a grotesque, +limp thing--down the side of the defile, past the engineer, sliding +gently until he landed in a queer-looking huddle at the bottom, near +the trail. + +Sanderson intently examined other rocks and boulders on the opposite +side of the defile. He had paid no attention to Williams' "Good work, +Sanderson!" except to grin and assure himself that Williams hadn't +"lost his nerve." + +Presently at an angle that ran obliquely upward from a flat, projecting +ledge, behind which another Double A man lay, partly concealed, +Sanderson detected movement. + +It was only a hat that he saw this time, and a glint of sunlight on the +barrel of a rifle. But he saw that the rifle, after moving, became +quite motionless, and he suspected that it was about to be used. + +Again the cheek snuggled the stock of his rifle. + +"This is goin' to be some shot--if I make it!" he told himself just +before he fired. "There ain't nothin' to shoot at but one of his ears, +looks like." + +But at the report of the rifle, the weapon that had been so rigid and +motionless slipped from behind the rock and clattered downward. It +caught halfway between the rock and the bottom of the defile. There +came no sound from behind the rook, and no movement. + +"Got him!" yelled Williams. "Go to it! There's only two more on this +side, that I can see. They're trying mighty hard to perforate me--I'm +losing weight dodging around here trying to keep them from drawing a +bead on me. If I had a rifle----" + +Williams' voice broke off with the crash of a rifle behind him, though +a little to one side. Talking to Sanderson, and trying to see him, +Williams had stuck his head out a little too far. The bullet from the +rifle of the watching enemy clipped off a small piece of the engineer's +ear. + +Williams' voice rose in impotent rage, filling the defile with profane +echoes. Sanderson did not hear Williams. He had chanced to be looking +toward the spot from whence the smoke spurt came. + +A fallen tree, its top branches hanging down the wall of the defile, +provided concealment from which the enemy had sent his shot at +Williams. Sanderson snapped a shot at the point where he had seen the +smoke streak, and heard a cry of rage. + +A man, his face distorted with pain, stood up behind the fallen tree +trunk, the upper part of his body in plain view. + +His rage had made him reckless, and he had stood erect the better to +aim his rifle at the fissure in which Sanderson was concealed. He +fired--and missed, for Sanderson had ducked at the movement. Sanderson +heard the bullet strike the rock wall above his head, and go +ricochetting into the cleft behind him. + +He peered out again instantly, to see that the man was lying doubled +across the fallen tree trunk, his rifle having dropped, muzzle down, in +some bushes below him. + +Sanderson heard Williams' voice, raised in savage exultation: + +"Nip my ear, will you--yon measly son-of-a-gun! I'll show you! + +"Got him with my pistol!" he yelled to one of the Double A men near +him. "Come on out and fight like men, you miserable whelps!" + +The young engineer's fighting blood was up--that was plain to +Sanderson. Sanderson grinned, yielded to a solemn hope that Williams +would not get reckless and expose himself needlessly, and began to +examine the walls of the fissure to determine on a new offensive +movement. + +He was interrupted, though, by another shout from Williams. + +"Got him!" yelled the engineer; "plumb in the beezer!" + +Sanderson peered out, to see the body of a man come tumbling down the +opposite wall of the defile. + +"That's all on this side!" Williams informed the others, shouting. +"Now let's get at the guys on the other side and salivate them!" + +Again Sanderson grinned at the engineer's enthusiasm. That enthusiasm +was infectious, for Sanderson heard some of the other men laughing. +The laughing indicated that they now entertained a hope of ultimate +victory--a hope which they could not have had before Williams and +Sanderson had disposed of the enemies at their rear. + +Sanderson, too, was imbued with a spirit of enthusiasm. He began to +climb the walls of the crevice, finding the ragged rock projections +admirably convenient for footing. + +However, his progress was slow, for he had to be careful not to let his +head show above the edge of the rock that formed the fissure; and so he +was busily engaged for the greater part of half an hour before he +finally reached a position from which he thought he could get a glimpse +of the men on his side of the defile. + +Meanwhile there had been no sound from the bottom, or the other side of +the defile, except an occasional report of a rifle, which told that +Dale's men were firing, or the somewhat more crashing report of a +pistol, which indicated that his own men were replying. + +From where he crouched in the fissure, Sanderson could see some of the +horses at the bottom of the defile. They were grazing unconcernedly. +Scattered along the bottom of the defile were the men who had fallen at +the first fire, and Sanderson's eye glinted with rage when he looked at +them; for he recognized some of them as men of the outfit for whom he +had conceived a liking. Two of Williams' men were lying there, too, +and Sanderson's lips grimmed as he looked at them. + +Thoroughly aroused now, Sanderson replaced the empty cartridges in the +rifle with loaded ones, and, finding a spot between two small boulders, +he shoved the muzzle of the rifle through. + +He had no fear of being shot at from the rear, for the men had +permitted him to go far enough through the defile to allow the others +following him to come into range before they opened fire. + +Thus Sanderson was between the Dale outfit and the Double A ranchhouse, +and he had only to look back in the direction from which he and +Williams had come. None of the Dale men could cross the fissure. + +Cautiously Sanderson raised his head above the rocky edge of the +fissure. He kept his head concealed behind the two small boulders and +he had an uninterrupted view of the entire side of the defile. + +He saw a number of men crouching behind rocks and boulders +that were scattered over the steep slope, and he counted them +deliberately--sixteen. He could see their faces plainly, and he +recognized many of them as Dale's men. They were of the vicious type +that are to be found in all lawless communities. + +Sanderson's grin as he sighted along the barrel of his rifle was full +of sardonic satisfaction, tempered with a slight disappointment. For +he did not see Dale among the others. Dale, he supposed, had stayed +behind. + +The thought of what Dale might be doing at the Double A ranchhouse +maddened Sanderson, and taking quick sight at a man crouching behind a +rock, he pulled the trigger. + +Looking only in front of him, at the other side of the defile where +Sanderson's men were concealed, the man did not expect attack from a +new quarter, and as Sanderson's bullet struck him he leaped up, howling +with pain and astonishment, clutching at his breast. + +He had hardly exposed himself when several reports from the other side +of the defile greeted him. The man staggered and fell behind his rock, +his feet projecting from one side and his head from the other. + +Instantly the battle took on a new aspect. It was a flank attack, +which Dale's men had not anticipated, and it confused them. Several of +them shifted their positions, and in doing so they brought parts of +their bodies into view of the men on the opposite wall. + +There rose from the opposite wall a succession of reports, followed by +hoarse cries of pain from Dale's men. They flopped back again, thus +exposing themselves to Sanderson's fire, and the latter lost not one of +his opportunities. + +It was the aggressors themselves that were now under cross fire, and +they relished it very little. + +A big man, incensed at his inability to silence Sanderson, and wounded +in the shoulder, suddenly left the shelter of his rock and charged +across the steep face of the slope toward the fissure. + +This man was brave, despite his associations, but he was a Dale man, +and deserved no mercy. Sanderson granted him none. Halfway of the +distance between his rock and the fissure he charged before Sanderson +shot him. The man fell soundlessly, turning over and over in his +descent to the bottom of the defile. + +And then rose Williams' voice--Sanderson grinned with bitter humor: + +"We've got them, boys; we've got them. Give them hell, the damned +buzzards!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +NYLAND MEETS A "KILLER" + +Ben Nyland had gone to Lazette to attend to some business that had +demanded his attention. He had delayed going until he could delay no +longer. + +"I hate like blazes to go away an' leave you alone, here--to face that +beast, Dale, if he comes sneakin' around. But I reckon I've just got +to go--I can't put it off any longer. If you'd only go an' stay at +Bransford's while I'm gone I'd feel a heap easier in my mind." + +"I'm not a bit afraid," Peggy declared. "That last experience of +Dale's with Sanderson has done him good, and he won't bother me again." + +That had been the conversation between Ben and Peggy as Ben got ready +to leave. And he had gone away, half convinced that Peggy was right, +and that Dale would not molest her. + +But he had made himself as inconspicuous as possible while in Okar, +waiting for the train, and he was certain that none of Dale's men had +seen him. + +Nyland had concluded his business as quickly as possible, but the best +he could do was to take the return train that he had told Peggy he +would take. That train brought him back to Okar late in the afternoon +of the next day. + +Ben Nyland had been born and raised in the West, and he was of the type +that had made the West the great supply store of the country. Rugged, +honest, industrious, Ben Nyland had no ambitions beyond those of taking +care of his sister--which responsibility had been his since the death +of his parents years before. + +It had not been a responsibility, really, for Nyland worshiped his +sister, and it had been his eagerness to champion her that had made an +enemy of Alva Dale. + +He hated Dale, but not more than he hated Maison and Silverthorn for +the part they were playing--and had played--in trying to rob him of his +land. + +Nyland was a plodder, but there ran in his veins the fighting blood of +ancestors who had conquered the hardships and dangers of a great, +rugged country, and there had been times when he thought of Dale and +the others that his blood had leaped like fire through his veins. + +Twice Peggy had prevented him from killing Alva Dale. + +Nyland was afflicted with a premonition of evil when he got off the +train at Okar. To the insistence of the owner of the livery stable, +where he had left his horse, Nyland replied: + +"I ain't got no time to do any drinkin'; I've got to get home." + +The premonition of evil still oppressed him as he rode his horse +homeward. He rode fast, his face set and worried. + +When he reached the clearing through which Dale had come on the night +he had visited the Nyland cabin, he looked furtively around, for the +dire foreboding that had gripped him for hours had grown suddenly +stronger. + +He halted his horse and sat motionless in the saddle, intently +examining every object within view. + +It was to the horse corral that he finally turned when he could see +nothing strange in the objects around him. He had looked at the house, +and there seemed to be nothing wrong here, for he could see Peggy's +wash on the line that ran from a porch column to a corner of the stable. + +The actions of the three horses in the corral was what attracted his +attention. They were crowding the rail at the point nearest him, +neighing shrilly, though with a curious clacking in their throats that +he instantly detected. + +"They're wantin' water," he said aloud. He rode to the water trough +and saw that it was dry, with a deposit in the bottom which did not +contain a drop of moisture. + +"There ain't been no water put in there since I left," he decided; +"them horses is chokin' with thirst." + +A pulse of anxiety ran over him. There was no doubt in his mind now +that his presentiment of evil was not without foundation, and he +wheeled his horse and sent it toward the house. + +"Peggy would give them water if she was able to be on her feet," he +declared, "she's that kind." + +But halfway to the house another thought assailed him. It drew his +brows together in a scowl, it stiffened his lips until they were in +straight, hard lines. + +"Mebbe Dale's been here! Mebbe he's still here!" + +He abruptly halted his horse and gazed around him. As though he +expected to find something there he looked toward a little timber grove +to the right of the house, far back toward the rimming hills. At the +edge of the grove he saw a horse, saddled and bridled. + +A quick change came over Nyland. The blood left his face, and his eyes +took on an expression of cold cunning. + +Dismounting, he hitched his horse to one of the rails of the corral +fence. With his back turned to the house, his head cocked to one side, +as though he were intent on the knot he was tying in the reins, he +furtively watched the house. + +He took a long time to tie the reins to the rail, but the time was well +spent, for, before he finished, he saw a man's face at one of the +kitchen windows. + +It was not Dale. He was convinced of that, even though he got only a +flashing glance at the face. + +Danger threatened Peggy, or she had succumbed to it. There was no +other explanation of the presence of a strange man in the kitchen. For +if Peggy was able to walk, she would have watered the horses, she would +have met him at the door, as she had always done. + +And if the man were there for any good purpose he would have made his +presence known to Nyland, and would not have hidden himself in the +kitchen, to peer at Nyland through one of the windows. + +Nyland was convinced that Peggy had been foully dealt with. But haste +and recklessness would avail Nyland little. The great mingled rage and +anxiety that had seized him demanded instant action, but he fought it +down; and when he turned toward the house and began to walk toward the +kitchen door, his manner--outwardly--was that of a man who has seen +nothing to arouse his suspicions. + +Yet despite the appearance of calm he was alert, and every muscle and +sinew of his body was tensed for instant action. And so, when he had +approached to within a dozen feet of the kitchen door, and a man's +figure darkened the opening, he dove sidewise, drawing his gun as he +went down and snapping a shot at the figure he had seen. + +So rapid were his movements, and so well timed was his fall, that he +was halfway to the ground when the flash came from the doorway. And +the crash of his own gun followed the other so closely that the two +seemed almost instantaneous. + +Nyland did not conclude his acrobatic performance with the dive. +Landing on the ground he rolled over and over, scrambling toward the +wall of the cabin--reaching it on all fours and crouching there, gun in +hand--waiting. + +He had heard no sound from the man, nor did the latter appear. The +silence within the cabin was as deep as it had been just an instant +before the exchange of shots. + +There was a window in the rear wall of the cabin--a kitchen window. +There was another on the opposite side--the dining-room. There was a +front door and two windows on the side Nyland was on. + +Two courses were open for Nyland. He could gain entrance to the house +through one of the windows or the front door, thereby running the risk +of making a target of himself, or he could stay on the outside and wait +for the man to come out--which he would have to do some time. + +Nyland decided to remain where he was. For a long time he crouched +against the wall and nothing happened. Then, growing impatient, he +moved stealthily around the rear corner, stole to the rear window, and +peered inside. + +It took him long to prepare for the look--he accomplished the action in +an instant--a flashing glance. A gun roared close to his head, the +flash blinding him; the glass tinkling on the ground at his feet. + +But Nyland had not been hit, and he grinned felinely as he dropped to +the ground, slipped under the window, and ran around the house. +Ducking under the side window he ran around to the front. From the +front window he could look through the house, and he saw the man, gun +in hand, watching the side door. + +Nyland took aim through the window, but just as he was about to pull +the trigger of the weapon the man moved stealthily toward the door--out +of Nyland's vision. + +Evidently the man considered the many windows to be a menace to his +safety, and had determined to go outside, where he would have an equal +chance with his intended victim. + +Grinning coldly, Nyland moved to the corner of the house nearest the +kitchen door. The man stepped out of the door, and at the instant +Nyland saw him he was looking toward the rear of the house. + +Nyland laughed--aloud, derisively. He did not want to shoot the man in +the back. + +At Nyland's laugh the man wheeled, snapping a shot from his hip. He +was an instant too late, though, for with the man's wheeling movement +Nyland's gun barked death to him. + +He staggered, the gun falling from his loosening fingers, his hands +dropped to his sides, and he sagged forward inertly, plunging into the +dust in front of the kitchen door. + +Nyland ran forward, peered into the man's face, saw that no more +shooting on his part would be required, and then ran into the house to +search for Peggy. + +She was not in the house--a glance into each room told Nyland that. He +went outside again, his face grim, and knelt beside the man. + +The latter's wound was fatal--Nyland saw that plainly, for the bullet +had entered his breast just above the heart. + +Nyland got some water, for an hour he worked over the man, not to save +his life, but to restore him to consciousness only long enough to +question him. + +And at last his efforts were rewarded: the man opened his eyes, and +they were swimming with the calm light of reason. He smiled faintly at +Nyland. + +"Got me," he said. "Well, I don't care a whole lot. There's just one +thing that's been botherin' me since you come. Did you think somethin' +was wrong in the house when you was tyin' your cayuse over there at the +corral fence?" + +At Nyland's nod he continued: + +"I knowed it. It was the water, wasn't it--in the trough? I'm sure a +damned fool for not thinkin' of that! So that was it? Well, you've +got an eye in your head--I'll tell you that. I'm goin' to cash in, eh?" + +Nyland nodded and the man sighed. He closed his eyes for an instant, +but opened them slightly at Nyland's question: + +"What did you do to Peggy? Where is she?" + +The man was sinking fast, and it seemed that he hardly comprehended +Nyland's question. The latter repeated it, and the man replied weakly: + +"She's over in Okar--at Maison's--in his rooms. She----" + +He closed his eyes and his lips, opening the latter again almost +instantly to cough a crimson stream. + +Nyland got up, his face chalk white. Standing beside the man he +removed the two spent cartridges from the cylinder of his pistol and +replaced them with two loaded ones. Then he ran to his horse, tore the +reins from the rail of the corral fence, mounted with the horse in a +dead run, and raced toward Okar. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +NYLAND'S VENGEANCE + +Just before the dusk enveloped Okar, Banker Maison closed the desk in +his private office and lit a cigar. He leaned back in the big desk +chair, slowly smoking, a complacent smile on his lips, his eyes glowing +with satisfaction. + +For Maison's capacity for pleasure was entirely physical. He got more +enjoyment out of a good dinner and a fragrant cigar than many +intellectual men get out of the study of a literary masterpiece, or a +philanthropist out of the contemplation of a charitable deed. + +Maison did not delve into the soul of things. The effect of his greed +on others he did not consider. That was selfishness, of course, but it +was a satisfying selfishness. + +It did not occur to him that Mary Bransford, for instance, or +Sanderson--or anybody whom he robbed--could experience any emotion or +passion over their losses. They might feel resentful, to be sure; but +resentment could avail them little--and it didn't bring the dollars +back to them. + +He chuckled. He was thinking of the Bransfords now--and Sanderson. He +had put a wolf on Sanderson's trail--he and Silverthorn; and Sanderson +would soon cease to bother him. + +He chuckled again; and he sat in the chair at the desk, hugely enjoying +himself until the cigar was finished. Then he got up, locked the +doors, and went upstairs. + +Peggy Nyland had not recovered consciousness. The woman who was caring +for the girl sat near an open window that looked out upon Okar's one +street when Maison entered the room. + +Maison asked her if there was any change; was told there was not. He +stood for an instant at the window, mentally anathematizing Dale for +bringing the girl to his rooms, and for keeping her there; then he +dismissed the woman, who went down the stairs, opened the door that +Maison had locked, and went outside. + +He stood for an instant longer at the window; then he turned and looked +down at Peggy, stretched out, still and white, on the bed. + +Maison looked long at her, and decided it was not remarkable that Dale +had become infatuated with Peggy, for the girl was handsome. + +Maison had never bothered with women, and he yielded to a suspicion of +sentiment as he looked down at Peggy. But, as always, the sentiment +was not spiritual. + +Dale had intimated that the girl was his mistress. Well, he was bound +to acknowledge that Dale had good taste in such matters, anyway. + +The expression of Maison's face was not good to see; there was a glow +in his eyes that, had Peggy seen it, would have frightened her. + +And if Maison had been less interested in Peggy, and with his thoughts +of Dale, he would have heard the slight sound at the door; he would +have seen Ben Nyland standing there in the deepening dusk, his eyes +aflame with the wild and bitter passions of a man who had come to kill. + +Maison did not see, nor did he hear until Ben leaped for him. Then +Maison heard him, felt his presence, and realized his danger. + +He turned, intending to escape down the other stairway. He was too +late. + +Ben caught him midway between the bed and the door that opened to the +stairway, and his big hands went around the banker's neck, cutting +short his scream of terror and the incoherent mutterings which followed +it. + + +Peggy Nyland had been suffering mental torture for ages, it seemed to +her. Weird and grotesque thoughts had followed one another in rapid +succession through her brain. The thing had grown so vivid--the +horrible imaginings had seemed so real, that many times she had been on +the verge of screaming. Each time she tried to scream, however, she +found that her jaws were tightly set, her teeth clenched, and she could +get no sound through them. + +Lately, though--it seemed that it had been for hours--she had felt a +gradual lessening of the tension. Within the last few hours she had +heard voices near her; had divined that persons were near her. But she +had not been certain. That is, until within a few minutes. + +Then it seemed to her that she heard some giant body threshing around +near her; she heard a stifled scream and incoherent mutterings. The +thing was so close, the thumping and threshing so real, that she +started and sat up in bed, staring wildly around. + +She saw on the floor near her two men. One had his hands buried in the +other's throat, and the face of the latter was black and horribly +bloated. + +This scene, Peggy felt, was real, and again she tried to scream. + +The effort was successful, though the sound was not loud. One of the +men turned, and she knew him. + +"Ben," she said in an awed, scared voice, "what in God's name are you +doing?" + +"Killin' a snake!" he returned sullenly. + +"Dale?" she inquired wildly. Her hands were clasped, the fingers +working, twisting and untwisting. + +"Maison," he told her, his face dark with passion. + +"Because of me! O, Ben! Maison has done nothing to me. It was Dale, +Ben--Dale came to our place and attacked me. I felt him carrying +me--taking me somewhere. This--this place----" + +"Is Maison's rooms," Ben told her. In his eyes was a new passion; he +knelt beside the bed and stroked the girl's hair. + +"Dale, you said--Dale. Dale hurt you? How?" + +She told him, and he got up, a cold smile on his face. + +"You feel better now, eh? You can be alone for a few minutes? I'll +send someone to you." + +He paid no attention to her objections, to her plea that she was afraid +to be alone. He grinned at her, the grin that had been on his face +when he had shot Dal Colton, and backed away from her until he reached +the stairs. + +Outside he mounted his horse and visited several saloons. There was no +sign of Dale. In the City Hotel he came upon a man who told him that +earlier in the day Dale had organized a posse and had gone to the +Double A to arrest Sanderson. This man was not a friend of Dale's, and +one of the posse had told him of Dale's plan. + +Nyland mounted his horse again and headed it for the neck of the basin. +In his heart was the same lust that had been there while he had been +riding toward Okar. + +And in his soul was a rage that had not been sated by the death of the +banker who, a few minutes before Nyland's arrival, had been so smugly +reviewing the pleasurable incidents of his life. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE LAW TAKES A HAND + +Barney Owen was tying the knot of the rope more securely when he heard +the bolt on the pantry door shoot back. He wheeled swiftly, to see +Mary Bransford emerging from the pantry, her hands covering her face in +a vain endeavor to shut from sight the grisly horror she had confronted +when she had reached her feet after recovering consciousness. + +Evidently she had no knowledge of what had occurred, for when at a +sound Owen made and she uncovered her eyes, she saw Owen and instantly +fainted. + +Owen dove forward and caught her as she fell, and then with a strength +that was remarkable in his frail body he carried her to the lounge in +the parlor. + +Ho was compelled to leave her there momentarily, for he still +entertained fears that Dale would escape the loop of the rope. So he +ran into the pantry, looked keenly at Dale, saw that, to all +appearances, he was in the last stages of strangulation, and then went +out again, to return to Mary. + +But before he left Dale he snatched the man's six-shooter from its +sheath, for his own had been lost in the confusion of the rush of +Dale's men for the door. + +Mary was sitting up on the lounge when Owen returned. She was pale, +and a haunting fear, cringing, abject, was in her eyes. + +She got to her feet when she saw Owen and ran to him, crying. + +Owen tried to comfort her, but his words were futile. + +"You be brave, little woman!" he said. "You must be brave! Sanderson +and the other men are in danger, and I've got to go to Okar for help!" + +"I'll go with you," declared the girl. "I can't stay here--I won't. I +can't stand being in the same house with--with that!" She pointed to +the kitchen. + +"All right," Owen said resignedly; "we'll both go. What did you do +with the money?" + +Mary disclosed the hiding place, and Owen took the money, carried it to +the bunkhouse, where he stuffed it into the bottom of a tin food box. +Then, hurriedly, he saddled and bridled two horses and led them to +where Mary was waiting on the porch. + +Mounting, they rode fast toward Okar--the little man's face working +nervously, a great eagerness in his heart to help the man for whom he +had conceived a deep affection. + + +Banker Maison had made no mistake when he had told Sanderson that Judge +Graney was honest. Graney looked honest. There was about him an +atmosphere of straightforwardness that was unmistakable and convincing. +It was because he was honest that a certain governor had sent him to +Okar. + +And Graney had vindicated the governor's faith in him. Whenever crime +and dishonesty raised their heads in Okar, Judge Graney pinned them to +the wall with the sword of justice, and called upon all men to come and +look upon his deeds. + +Maison, Silverthorn, and Dale--and others of their ilk--seldom called +upon the judge for advice. They knew he did not deal in their kind. +Through some underground channel they had secured a deputyship for +Dale, and upon him they depended for whatever law they needed to +further their schemes. + +Judge Graney was fifty--the age of experience. He knew something of +men himself. And on the night that Maison and Sanderson had come to +him, he thought he had seen in Sanderson's eyes a cold menace, a +threat, that meant nothing less than death for the banker, if the +latter had refused to write the bill of sale. + +For, of course, the judge knew that the banker was being forced to make +out the bill of sale. He knew that from the cold determination and +alert watchfulness in Sanderson's eyes; he saw it in the white +nervousness of the banker. + +And yet it was not his business to interfere, or to refuse to attest +the signatures of the men. He had asked Maison to take the oath, and +the banker had taken it. + +Thus it seemed he had entered into the contract in good faith. If he +had not, and there was something wrong about the deal, Maison had +recourse to the law, and the judge would have aided him. + +But nothing had come of it; Maison had said nothing, had lodged no +complaint. + +But the judge had kept the case in mind. + +Late in the afternoon of the day on which Dale had organized the posse +to go to the Double A, Judge Graney sat at his desk in the courtroom. +The room was empty, except for a court attache, who was industriously +writing at a little desk in the rear of the room. + +The Maison case was in the judge's mental vision, and he was wondering +why the banker had not complained, when the sheriff of Colfax entered. + +Graney smiled a welcome at him. "You don't get over this way very +often, Warde, but when you do, I'm glad to see you. Sit on the +desk--that's your usual place, anyway." + +Warde followed the suggestion about the desk; he sat on it, his legs +dangling. There was a glint of doubt and anxiety in his eyes. + +"What's wrong, Warde?" asked the judge. + +"Plenty," declared Warde. "I've come to you for advice--and perhaps +for some warrants. You recollect some time ago there was a herd of +cattle lost in Devil's Hole--and some men. Some of the men were shot, +and one or two of them went down under the herd when it stampeded." + +"Yes," said the judge, "I heard rumors of it. But those things are not +uncommon, and I haven't time to look them up unless the cases are +brought formally to my attention." + +"Well," resumed Warde, "at the time there didn't seem to be any clue to +work on that would indicate who had done the killing. We've nothing to +do with the stampede, of course--that sort of stuff is out of my line. +But about the shooting of the men. I've got evidence now." + +"Go ahead," directed the judge. + +"Well, on the night of the killing two of my men were nosing around the +level near Devil's Hole, trying to locate a horse thief who had been +trailed to that section. They didn't find the horse thief, but they +saw a bunch of men sneaking around a camp fire that belonged to the +outfit which was trailin' the herd that went down in Devil's Hole. + +"They didn't interfere, because they didn't know what was up. But they +saw one of the men stampede the herd, and they saw the rest of them do +the killing." + +"Who did the killing?" + +"Dale and his gang," declared the sheriff. + +Judge Graney's eyes glowed. He sat erect and looked hard at the +sheriff. + +"Who is Sanderson?" he asked. + +"That's the fellow who bossed the trail herd." + +The judge smiled oddly. "There were three thousand head of cattle?" + +Warde straightened. "How in hell do you know?" he demanded. + +"Banker Maison paid for them," he said gently. + +He related to Warde the incident of the visit of Sanderson and the +banker, and the payment to Sanderson by Maison of the ninety thousand +dollars. + +At the conclusion of the recital Warde struck the desk with his fist. + +"Damned if I didn't think it was something like that!" he declared. +"But I wasn't going to make a holler until I was sure. But Sanderson +knew, eh? He knew all the time who had done the killing, and who had +planned it. Game, eh? He was playing her a lone hand!" + +The sheriff was silent for a moment, and then he spoke again, a glow of +excitement in his eyes. "But there'll be hell to pay about this! If +Sanderson took ninety thousand dollars away from Maison, Maison was +sure to tell Dale and Silverthorn about it--for they're as thick as +three in a bed. And none of them are the kind of men to stand for that +kind of stuff from anybody--not even from a man like Sanderson!" + +"We've got to do something, Judge! Give me warrants for the three of +them--Dale, Maison, and Silverthorn, and I'll run them in before they +get a chance to hand Sanderson anything!" + +Judge Graney called the busy clerk and gave him brief instructions. As +the latter started toward his desk there was a sound at the door, and +Barney Owen came in, breathing heavily. + +Barney's eyes lighted when they rested upon the sheriff, for he had not +hoped to see him there. He related to them what had happened at the +Double A that day, and how Dale's men had followed Sanderson and the +others to "wipe them out" if they could. + +"That settles it!" declared the sheriff. He was outside in an instant, +running here and there in search of men to form a posse. He found +them, scores of them; for in all communities where the law is +represented, there are men who take pride in upholding it. + +So it was with Okar. When the law-loving citizens of the town were +told what had occurred they began to gather around the sheriff from all +directions--all armed and eager. And yet it was long after dusk before +the cavalcade of men turned their horses' heads toward the neck of the +basin, to begin the long, hard ride over the plains to the spot where +Sanderson, Williams, and the others had been ambushed by Dale's men. + +A rumor came to the men, however, just before they started, which made +several of them look at one another--for there had been those who had +seen Ben Nyland riding down the street toward Maison's bank in the +dusk, his face set and grim and a wild light in his eyes. + +"Maison has been guzzled--he's deader than a salt mackerel!" came the +word, leaping from lip to lip. + +Sheriff Warde grinned. "Serves him right," he declared; "that's one +less for us to hang!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE FUGITIVE + +After the departure of Barney Owen and Mary Bransford, the Double A +ranchhouse was as silent as any house, supposed to be occupied by a +dead man, could be. + +But after a few minutes, if one had looked over the top of the +partition from which Owen had hanged Alva Dale, one might have seen +Dale move a little. One might have been frightened, but if one had +stayed there, it would have been to see Dale move again. + +The first time he moved he had merely placed his feet upon the floor, +to rest himself. The second movement resulted in him raising his +smashed hands and lifting the noose from his neck. + +He threw it viciously from him after removing it, so that it flew over +the top of the partition and swished sinuously upon the floor of the +kitchen. + +For Barney Owen had not done a good job in hanging Dale. For when +Barney had run across the kitchen with the rope, to tie it to the +fastenings of the door, it had slacked a little, enough to permit +Dale's toes to touch the floor of the pantry. + +Feeling the slack, Dale had taken advantage of it, throwing his head +forward a little, to keep the rope taut while Owen fastened it. All +that had been involuntary with Dale. + +For, at that time Dale had had no thought of trying to fool Owen--he +had merely taken what chance had given him. And when the first shock +of the thing was over he had begun his attempts to reach the top of the +partition in order to slacken the rope enough to get it over his +head--for at that time he did not know that already the rope was slack +enough. + +It was not until after his hands had been smashed and he had dropped to +the floor again, that he realized that he might have thrown the rope +off at once. + +Then it was too late for him to do anything, for he felt Owen above +him, at the top of the partition, and he thought Owen had a gun. So he +feigned strangulation, and Owen had been deceived. + +And when Owen had entered the pantry, Dale still continued to feign +strangulation, letting his body sag, and causing a real pressure on his +neck. He dared not open his eyes to see if Owen had a weapon, for then +the little man, having a gun, would have quickly finished the work +that, seemingly, the rope had begun. + +Dale might have drawn his own gun, taking a long chance of hitting +Owen, but he was at a great disadvantage because of the condition of +his hands, and he decided not to. + +Dale heard Owen and Mary go out; he heard the clatter of hoofs as they +rode away. Then he emerged from the pantry, and through a window +watched the two as they rode down the slope of the basin. + +Then Dale yielded to the bitter disappointment that oppressed him, and +cursed profanely, going from room to room and vengefully kicking things +out of his way while bandaging his smashed hands. + +In the parlor he overturned the lounge and almost kicked it to pieces +searching for the money Mary had told him was concealed there. + +"The damned hussy!" he raged, when he realized that the money was not +in the lounge. + +He went out, got on his horse, and rode across the level back of the +house, and up the slope leading to the mesa, where he had seen +Sanderson riding earlier in the day. + +For an hour he rode, warily, for he did not want to come upon Sanderson +unawares--if his men had not intercepted his enemy; and then reaching +the edge of a section of hilly country, he halted and sat motionless in +the saddle. + +For, from some distance ahead of him he heard the reports of firearms, +and over him, at the sound, swept a curious reluctance to go any +farther in that direction. + +For it seemed to him there was something forbidding in the sound; it +was as though the sounds carried to him on the slight breeze were +burdened with an evil portent; that they carried a threat and a warning. + +He sat long there, undecided, vacillating. Then he shuddered, wheeled +his horse, and sent him scampering over the back trail. + +He rode to the Bar D. His men--the regular punchers--were working far +down in the basin, and there was no one in the house. + +He sat for hours alone in his office, waiting for news of the men he +had sent after Sanderson; and as the interval of their absence grew +longer the dark forebodings that had assailed him when within hearing +distance of the firing seized him again--grew more depressing, and he +sat, gripping the arms of his chair, a clammy perspiration stealing +over him. + +He shook off the feeling at last, and stood up, scowling. + +"That's what a man gets for givin' up to a damn fool notion like that," +he said, thinking of the fear that had seized him while listening to +the shooting. "Once a man lets on he's afraid, the thing keeps a +workin' on him till he's certain sure he's a coward. Them boys didn't +need me, anyway--they'll get Sanderson." + +So he justified his lack of courage, and spent some hours reading. But +at last the strain grew too great, and as the dusk came on he began to +have thoughts of Dal Colton. Ben Nyland must have reached home by this +time. Had Colton succeeded? + +He thought of riding to Nyland's ranch, but he gave up that idea when +he reasoned that perhaps Colton had failed, and in that case Nyland +wouldn't be the most gentle person in the world to face on his own +property. + +If Colton had succeeded he would find him, in Okar. So he mounted his +horse and rode to Okar. + +The town seemed to be deserted when he dismounted in front of the City +Hotel. He did not go inside the building, merely looking in through +one of the windows, and seeing a few men in there, playing cards in a +listless manner. He did not see Colton. + +He looked into several other windows. Colton was nowhere to be seen. +In several places Dale inquired about him. No one had seen Colton that +day. + +No one said anything to Dale about what had happened. Perhaps they +thought he knew. At any rate, Dale heard no word of what had +transpired during his absence. Men spoke to him, or nodded--and looked +away, to look at him when his back was turned. + +All this had its effect on Dale. He noted the restraint, he felt the +atmosphere of strangeness. But he blamed it all on the queer +premonition that had taken possession of his senses. It was not Okar +that looked strange, nor the men, it was himself. + +He went to the bank building and entered the rear door, clumping +heavily up the stairs, for he felt a heavy depression. When he opened +the door at the top of the stairs night had come. A kerosene lamp on a +table in the room blinded him for an instant, and he stood, blinking at +it. + +When his eyes grew accustomed to the glare he saw Peggy Nyland sitting +up in bed, looking at him. + +She did not say anything, but continued to look at him. There was +wonder in her eyes, and Dale saw it. It was wonder over Dale's +visit--over his coming to Okar. Ben must have missed him, for Dale was +alive! Dale could not have heard what had happened. + +"You're better, eh?" said Dale. + +She merely nodded her reply, and watched Dale as he crossed the room. + +Reaching a door that led into another room, Dale turned. + +"Where's Maison?" + +Peggy pointed at the door on whose threshold Dale stood. + +Dale entered. What he saw in the room caused him to come out again, +his face ashen. + +"What's happened?" he demanded hoarsely, stepping to the side of the +bed and looking down at Peggy. + +Peggy told him. The man's face grew gray with the great fear that +clutched him, and he stepped back; then came forward again, looking +keenly at the girl as though he doubted her. + +"Nyland killed him--choked him to death?" he said. + +Peggy nodded silently. The cringing fear showing in the man's eyes +appalled her. She hated him, and he had done this thing to her, but +she did not want the stigma of another killing on her brother's name. + +"Look here, Dale!" she said. "You'd better get out of here--and out of +the country! Okar is all stirred up over what you have done. Sheriff +Warde was in Okar and had a talk with Judge Graney. Warde knows who +killed those men at Devil's Hole, and he is going to hang them. You +are one of them; but you won't hang if Ben catches you. And he is +looking for you! You'd better go--and go fast!" + +For an instant Dale stood, looking at Peggy, searching her face and +probing her eyes for signs that she was lying to him. He saw no such +signs. Turning swiftly, he ran down the stairs, out into the street, +and mounting, with his horse already running, he fled toward the basin +and the Bar D. + +He had yielded entirely to the presentiment of evil that had tortured +him all day. + +All his schemes and plots for the stealing of the Double A and Nyland's +ranch were forgotten in the frenzy to escape that had taken possession +of him, and he spurred his horse to its best efforts as he ran--away +from Okar; as he fled from the vengeance of those forces which his +evilness had aroused. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +WINNING A FIGHT + +After Sanderson shot the big man who had tried to rush him, there was a +silence in the defile. Those of Dale's men who had positions of +security held them, not exposing themselves to the deadly fire of +Sanderson and the others. + +For two hours Sanderson clung to his precarious position in the +fissure, until his muscles ached with the strain and his eyes blurred +because of the constant vigil. But he grimly held the place, knowing +that upon him depended in a large measure the safety of the men on the +opposite side of the defile. + +The third hour was beginning when Sanderson saw a puff of smoke burst +from behind a rock held by one of his men; he heard the crash of a +pistol, and saw one of Dale's men flop into view from behind a rock +near him. + +Sanderson's smile was a tribute to the vigilance of his men. Evidently +the Dale man, fearing Sanderson's inaction might mean that he was +seeking a new position from where he could pick off more of his +enemies, had shifted his own position so no part of his body was +exposed to Sanderson. + +He had wriggled around too far, and the shot from Sanderson's man had +been the result. + +The man was not dead; Sanderson could see him writhing. He was badly +wounded, too, and Sanderson did not shoot, though he could have +finished him. + +But the incident drew Sanderson's attention to the possibilities of a +new position. He had thought at first that he had climbed as high in +the fissure as he dared without exposing himself to the fire of the +Dale men; but examining the place again he saw that he might, with +exceeding caution, take another position about twenty feet farther on. + +He decided to try. Letting himself down until his feet struck a flat +rock projection, he rested. Then, the weariness dispersed, he began to +climb, shoving his rifle between his body and the cartridge belt around +his waist. + +It took him half an hour to reach the point he had decided upon, and by +that time the sun had gone far down into the hazy western distance, and +a glow--saffron and rose and violet--like a gauze curtain slowly +descending--warned him that twilight was not far away. + +Sanderson determined to finish the battle before the darkness could +come to increase the hazard, and when he reached the spot in the +fissure he hurriedly took note of the strategical points of the +position. + +There was not much concealment for his body. He was compelled to lie +flat on his stomach to be certain that no portion of his body was +exposed; and he found a place in a little depression at the edge of the +fissure that seemed suitable. Then he raised his head above the little +ridge that concealed him from his enemies. + +He saw them all--every man of them. Some of them were crouching; some +were lying prone--apparently resting; still others were sitting, their +backs against their protection--waiting. + +Sanderson took his rifle by the barrel and with the stock forced a +channel through some rotted rock on the top of the little ridge that +afforded him concealment. When he had dug the channel deeply +enough--so that he could aim the weapon without exposing his head--he +stuck the rifle barrel into the channel and shouted to the Dale men: + +"This game is played out, boys! I'm behind you. You can't hide any +longer. I give you fair warning that if you don't come out within a +minute, throwin' your guns away an' holdin' up your hands, I'll pick +you off, one by one! That goes!" + +There was sincerity in Sanderson's voice, but the men doubted. +Sanderson saw them look around, but it was plain to him that they could +not tell from which direction his voice came. + +"Bluffin'!" scoffed a man who was in plain view of Sanderson; the very +man, indeed, upon whom Sanderson had his rifle trained. + +"Bluffin', eh?" replied Sanderson grimly. "I've got a bead on you. At +the end of one minute--if you don't toss your guns away and step out, +holdin' up your hands, I'll bore you--plenty!" + +Half a minute passed and the man did not move. He was crouching, and +his gaze swept the edge of the fissure from which Sanderson's voice +seemed to come. His face was white, his eyes wide with the fear of +death. + +Just when it seemed that Sanderson must shoot to make his statement and +threat convincing, the man shouted: + +"This game's too certain--for me, I'm through!" + +He threw his weapons away, so that they went bounding and clattering to +the foot of the slope. Then he again faced the fissure, shouting: + +"I know I've caved, an' you know I've caved. But what about them guys +on the other side, there? They'll be blowin' me apart if I go to +showin' myself." + +Sanderson called to Williams and the others, telling them the men were +going to surrender, and warning them to look out for treachery. + +"If one of them tries any monkey-shines, nail him!" he ordered. +"There's eleven of them that ain't been touched--an' some more that +ain't as active as they might be. But they can bend a gun handy +enough. Don't take any chances!" + +Sanderson ordered the man to step out. He did so, gingerly, as though +he expected to be shot. When he was in plain view of Sanderson's men, +Sanderson ordered him to descend the slope and stand beside a huge rock +ledge. He watched while the man descended; then he called to the +others: + +"Step up an' take your medicine! One at a time! Guns first. +Williams!" he called. "You get their guns as fast as they come down. +I'll see that none of them plug you while you're doin' it!" + +There was no hitch in the surrender; and no attempt to shoot Williams. +One by one the men dropped their weapons down the slope. + +When all the men had reached the bottom of the defile Sanderson climbed +down and asked the first man who had surrendered where they had left +their horses. The animals were brought, and the men forced to mount +them. Then, the Dale men riding ahead, Sanderson and the others +behind, they began the return trip. + +When they reached the open country above the defile, Sanderson rode +close to Williams. + +"There's enough of you to take care of this gang," he said, indicating +the prisoners; "I'm goin' to hit the breeze to the Double A an' see +what's happened there!" + +"Sure!" agreed Williams. "Beat it!" + +When Streak got the word he leaped forward at a pace that gave Williams +an idea of how he had gained his name. He flashed by the head of the +moving columns and vanished into the growing darkness, running with +long, swift, sure leaps that took him over the ground like a feather +before a hurricane. + +But fast as he went, he did not travel too rapidly for Sanderson. For +in Sanderson's heart also lurked a premonition of evil. But he did not +fear it; it grimmed his lips, it made his eyes blaze with a wanton, +savage fire; it filled his heart with a bitter passion to slay the man +who had stayed behind at the Double A ranchhouse. + +And he urged Streak to additional effort, heading him recklessly +through sections of country where a stumble meant disaster, lifting him +on the levels, and riding all the time with only one thought in +mind--speed, speed, speed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +A MAN LEAVES OKAR + +Riding the hard trail through the basin, from its neck at Okar to the +broad, upward slope that led to the Double A ranchhouse, came another +man, who also was sacrificing everything to speed. His horse was +fresh, and he spared it not at all as he swept in long, smooth, swift +undulations over the floor of the basin. + +Ben Nyland's lips were as straight and hard as were those of the other +man who was racing toward the Double A from another direction; his face +was as grim, and his thoughts were as bitter and savage. + +When he reached the bottom of the long, gentle slope that stretched to +the Double A ranchhouse he did not spare his horse. The terrible spurs +sank in again and again, stirring the animal to a frenzy of effort, and +he rushed up the slope as though it were a level, snorting with pain +and fury, but holding the pace his rider demanded of him. + +And when he reached the corral fence near the Double A ranchhouse, and +his rider dismounted and ran forward, the horse heaved a sigh of relief +and stood, bracing his legs to keep from falling, his breath coming in +terrific heaves. + +An instant after his arrival Ben Nyland was in side the Double A +ranchhouse, pistol in hand. He tore through the rooms in the darkness, +stumbling over the furniture, knocking it hither and there as it +interfered with his progress. + +He found no one. Accidentally colliding with the table in the kitchen, +he searched its top and discovered thereon a kerosene lamp. Lighting +it with fingers that trembled, he looked around him. + +There were signs of the confusion that had reigned during the day. He +saw on the floor the rope that had encircled Dale's neck--one end of it +was tied to the fastenings of the kitchen door. + +The tied rope was a mystery to Nyland, but it suggested hanging to his +thoughts, already lurid, and he leaped for the pantry. There he grimly +viewed the wreck and turned away, muttering. + +"He's been here an' gone," he said, meaning Dale; "them's his +marks--ruin." + +Blowing out the light he went to the front door, paused in it and then +went out upon the porch, from where he could look northeastward at the +edge of the mesa surmounting the big slope that merged into the floor +of the basin. + +Faintly outlined against the luminous dark blue of the sky, he caught +the leaping silhouette of a horse and rider. He grinned coldly, and +stepped back into the shadow of the doorway. + +"That's him, damn him!" he said. "He's comin' back!" + +He had not long to wait. He saw the leaping silhouette disappear, +seeming to sink into the earth, but he knew that horse and rider were +descending the slope; that it would not be long before they would +thunder up to the ranchhouse--and he gripped the butt of his gun until +his fingers ached. + +He saw a blot appear from the dark shadows of the slope and come +rushing toward him. He could hear the heave and sob of the horse's +breath as it ran, and in another instant the animal came to a sliding +halt near the edge of the porch, the rider threw himself out of the +saddle and ran forward. + +At the first step taken by the man after he reached the porch edge, he +was halted by Nyland's sharp: + +"Hands up!" + +And at the sound of the other's voice the newcomer cried out in +astonishment: + +"Ben Nyland! What in hell are you doin' here?" + +"Lookin' for Dale," said the other, hoarsely. "Thought you was him, +an' come pretty near borin' you. What saved you was a notion I had of +wantin' Dale to know what I was killin' him for! Pretty close, Deal!" + +"Why do you want to kill him?" + +"For what he done to Peggy--damn him! He sneaked into the house an' +hurt her head, draggin' her to Okar--to Maison's. I've killed Maison, +an' I'll kill him!" + +"He ain't here, then--Dale ain't?" demanded Sanderson. + +"They ain't nobody here," gruffly announced Nyland. "They've been +here, an' gone. Dale, most likely. The house looks like a twister had +struck it!" + +Sanderson was inside before Nyland ceased speaking. He found the lamp, +lit it, and looked around the interior, noting the partially destroyed +lounge and the other wrecked furniture, strewn around the rooms. He +went out again and met Nyland on the porch. + +One look at Sanderson told Nyland what was in the latter's mind, and he +said: + +"He's at the Bar D, most likely. We'll get him!" + +"I ain't takin' no chance of missin' him," Sanderson shot back at +Nyland as they mounted their horses; "you fan it to Okar an' I'll head +for his shack!" + +Nyland's agreement to this plan was manifested by his actions. He said +nothing, but rode beside Sanderson for a mile or so, then he veered off +and rode at an angle which would take him to the neck of the basin, +while Sanderson, turning slightly northward, headed Streak for Dale's +ranch. + +Halfway between the Double A and the neck of the basin, Nyland came +upon the sheriff and his posse. The posse halted Nyland, thinking he +might be Dale, but upon discovering the error allowed the man to +proceed--after he had told them that Sanderson was safe and was riding +toward the Bar D. Sanderson, Nyland said, was after Dale. He did not +say that he, too, wanted to see Dale. + +"Dale!" mocked the sheriff, "Barney Owen hung him!" + +"Dale's alive, an' in Okar--or somewhere!" Nyland flung back at them as +he raced toward town. + +"I reckon we might as well go back," said the sheriff to his men. "The +clean-up has took place, an' it's all over--or Sanderson wouldn't be +back. We'll go back to Okar an' have a talk with Silverthorn. An' +mebbe, if Dale's around, we'll run into him." + +The posse, led by the sheriff, returned to Okar. Within five minutes +after his arrival in town the sheriff was confronting Silverthorn in +the latter's office in the railroad station. The posse waited. + +"It comes to this, Silverthorn," said the sheriff. "We ain't got any +evidence that you had a hand in killing those men at Devil's Hole. But +there ain't a man--an honest man--in town that ain't convinced that you +did have a hand in it. What I want to say to you is this: + +"Sanderson and Nyland are running maverick around the country tonight. +Nyland has killed Maison and is hunting for Dale. Sanderson and his +men have cleaned up the bunch of guys that went out this morning to +wipe Sanderson out. And Sanderson is looking for Dale. And after he +gets Dale he'll come for you, for he's seeing red, for sure. + +"I ain't interfering. This is one of the times when the law don't see +anything--and don't want to see anything. I won't touch Nyland for +killing Maison, and I won't lay a finger on Sanderson if he shoots the +gizzard out of you. There's a train out of here in fifteen minutes. I +give you your chance--take the train or take your chance with +Sanderson!" + +"I'll take the train," declared Silverthorn. + +Fifteen minutes later, white and scared, he was sitting in a coach, +cringing far back into one of the seats, cursing, for it seemed to him +that the train would never start. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +A MAN GETS A SQUARE DEAL + +Dale did not miss Ben Nyland by more than a few hundred yards as he +passed through the neck of the basin. But the men could not see each +other in the black shadows cast by the somber mountains that guarded +the entrance to the basin, and so they sped on, one headed away from +Okar and one toward it, each man nursing his bitter thoughts; one +intent on killing and the other riding to escape the death that, he +felt, was imminent. + +Dale reached the Bar D and pulled the saddle and bridle from his horse. +He caught up a fresh animal, threw saddle and bridle on him, and then +ran into the house to get some things that he thought might be valuable +to him. + +He came out again, and nervously paused on the threshold of the door to +listen. + +A sound reached his ears--the heavy drumming of a horse's hoofs on the +hard sand in the vicinity of the ranchhouse; and Dale gulped down his +fear as he ran to his horse, threw himself into the saddle and raced +around a corner of the house. + +He had hardly vanished into the gloom of the night when another rider +burst into view. + +The second rider was Sanderson. He did not halt Streak at the door of +the Bar D ranchhouse, for from a distance he had seen a man throw +himself upon a horse and dash away, and he knew of no man in the basin, +except Dale, who would find it necessary to run from his home in that +fashion. + +So he kept Streak in the dead run he had been in when approaching the +house, and when he reached the corner around which Dale had vanished, +he saw his man, two or three hundred yards ahead, flashing across a +level toward the far side of the big basin. + +He knew that Dale thought his pursuer was Nyland, and that thought gave +Sanderson a grim joy. In Sanderson's mind was a picture of Dale's +face--of the stark, naked astonishment that would be on it when he +discovered that it was Sanderson and not Nyland who had caught him. + +For Sanderson would catch him--he was convinced of that. + +The conviction became strengthened when, after half an hour's run, +Streak had pulled up on Dale. Sanderson could see that Dale's horse +was running erratically; that it faltered on the slight rises that they +came to now and then. And when Sanderson discovered that Dale's horse +was failing, he urged Streak to a faster pace. In an hour the space +between the two riders had become less. They were climbing the long, +gradual slope that led upward out of the basin when Dale's horse +stumbled and fell, throwing Dale out of the saddle. + +There was something horribly final in the manner of Dale's falling, for +he tumbled heavily and lay perfectly quiet afterward. His horse, after +rising, stumbled on a few steps and fell again. + +Sanderson, fully alive to the danger of haste, rode slowly toward the +fallen man. He was taking no chances, for Dale might be shamming in an +effort to shoot Sanderson as he came forward. + +But Dale was not shamming. Dismounting and drawing his pistol, +Sanderson went forward. Dale did not move, and when at last Sanderson +stood over the fallen man he saw that his eyes were closed and that a +great gash had been cut in his forehead near the right temple. + +Sanderson saw that the man was badly hurt, but to make sure of him he +drew Dale's pistol from its sheath and searched his clothing for other +weapons--finding another pistol in a pocket, and a knife in a belt. +These he threw into some brush near by, and then he bent over the man. + +Dale was unconscious, and despite all Sanderson could do, he remained +so. + +Sanderson examined the wound in his temple, and discovered that it was +deep and ragged--such a wound as a jagged stone might make. + +It was midnight when Sanderson ceased his efforts and decided that Dale +would die. He pitied the man, but he felt no pang of regret, for Dale +had brought his death upon himself. Sanderson wondered, standing +there, looking down at Dale, whether he would have killed the man. He +decided that he would have killed him. + +"But that ain't no reason why I should let him die after he's had an +accident," he told himself. "I'll get him to Okar--to the doctor. +Then, after the doc patches him up--if he can--an' I still think he +needs killing I'll do it." + +So he brought Dale's horse near. The animal had had a long rest, and +had regained his strength. + +Sanderson bent to Dale and lifted his shoulders, so that he might get +an arm under him, to carry him to his horse. But at the first movement +Dale groaned and opened his eyes, looking directly into Sanderson's. + +"Don't!" he said, "for God's sake, don't! You'll break me apart! It's +my back--it's broke. I've felt you workin' around me for hours. But +it won't do any good--I'm done. I can feel myself goin'." + +Sanderson laid him down again and knelt beside him. + +"You're Sanderson," said Dale, after a time. "I thought it was Nyland +chasin' me for a while. Then I heard you talkin' to your horse an' I +knew it was you. Why don't you kill me?" + +"I reckon the Lord is doin' that," said Sanderson. + +"Yes--He is. Well, the Lord ain't ever done anything for me." + +He was silent for a moment. Then: + +"I want to tell you somethin', Sanderson. I've tried to hate you, but +I ain't never succeeded. I've admired you. I've cussed myself for +doin' it, but I couldn't help it. An' because I couldn't hate you, I +tried my best to do things that would make you hate me. + +"I've deviled Mary Bransford because I thought it would stir you up. I +don't care anything for her--it's Peggy Nyland that I like. Mebbe I'd +have done the square thing to her--if I'd been let alone--an' if she'd +have liked me. Peggy's better, ain't she? When I saw her after--after +I saw Maison layin' there, choked to----" + +"So you saw Maison--dead, you say?" + +"Ben Nyland guzzled him," Dale's lips wreathed in a cynical smile. +"Ben thought Maison had brought Peggy to his rooms. You knowed Maison +was dead?" + +Sanderson nodded. + +"Then you must have been to Okar." He groaned. "Where's Ben Nyland?" + +"In Okar. He's lookin' for you." Sanderson leaned closer to the man +and spoke sharply to him. "Look here, Dale; you were at the Double A. +What has become of Mary Bransford?" + +"She went away with Barney Owen--to Okar. Nobody hurt her," he said, +as he saw Sanderson's eyes glow. "She's all right--she's with her +brother." + +He saw Sanderson's eyes; they were filled with an expression of +incredulity; and a late moon, just showing its rim above the edge of +the mesa above them, flooded the slope with a brilliancy that made it +possible for Dale to see another expression in Sanderson's eyes--an +expression which told him that Sanderson thought his mind was wandering. + +He laughed, weakly. + +"You think I'm loco, eh? Well, I ain't. Barney Owen ain't Barney Owen +at all--he's Will Bransford. I found that out yesterday," he +continued, soberly, as Sanderson looked quickly at him. "I had some +men down to Tombstone way, lookin' him up. + +"When old Bransford showed me the letter that you took away from me, I +knew Will Bransford was in Tombstone; an' when Mary sent that thousand +to him I set a friend of mine--Gary Miller--onto him. Gary an' two of +his friends salivated young Bransford, but he turned up, later, minus +the money, in Tombstone. Another friend of mine sent me word--an' a +description of him. Barney Owen is Bransford. + +"Just what happened to Gary Miller an' his two friends has bothered me +a heap," went on Dale. + +"They was to come this way, to help me in this deal. But they never +showed up." + +Sanderson smiled, and Dale's eyes gleamed. + +"You know what's become of him!" he charged. "That's where you got +that thousand you give to Mary Bransford--an' the papers, showin' that +young Bransford was due here. Ain't it?" + +"I ain't sayin'," said Sanderson. + +"Well," declared Dale, "Barney Owen is Will Bransford. The night +Morley got him drunk we went the limit with Owen, an' he talked enough +to make me suspicious. That's why I sent to Tombstone to find out how +he looked. We had the evidence to show the court at Las Vegas. We was +goin' to prove you wasn't young Bransford, an' then we was goin' to put +Owen out of the--" + +Dale gasped, caught his breath, and stiffened. + +Sanderson stayed with him until the dawn, sitting, quietly beside him +until the end. Then Sanderson got up, threw the body on Dale's horse, +mounted his own, and set out across the basin toward Okar. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +A DEAL IN LOVE + +A few days later Mary Bransford, Sanderson, and Barney Owen were +sitting on the porch of the Double A ranchhouse, near where they had +sat on the day Mary and Owen and the Dale men had seen Sanderson riding +along the edge of the mesa in his pursuit of Williams and the others. + +Mary and Sanderson were sitting rather close together at one end of the +porch; Barney Owen was sitting near them, on the porch edge, his elbows +resting on his knees. + +There had been a silence between the three for some time, but at last +Sanderson broke it. He smiled at Mary. + +"We'll build that dam--an' the irrigation plant now, mebbe," he said. +"But it's goin' to be a big job. Williams says it will take a year, or +more." + +"There will be difficulties, too, I suppose," said Mary. + +"Sure." + +"But difficulties do not worry you," she went on, giving him a glowing +look. + +He blushed. "We promised each other not to refer to that again," he +protested. "You are breaking your promise." + +"I just can't help it!" she declared. "I feel so good over your +victory. Why, it really wasn't your affair at all, and yet you came +here, fought our fight for us; and then, when it is all over, you wish +us to say nothing about it! That isn't fair!" + +He grinned. "Was you fair?" he charged. + +"You told me the other day that you knew, the day after I ordered Dale +away from the Double A--after tellin' you that I wasn't what I claimed +to be--that Barney Owen wasn't Barney Owen at all, but your brother. + +"An' you let me go on, not tellin' me. An' he didn't do a heap of +talkin'. I ain't mentioned it until now, but I've wondered why? +Barney knew from the first day that I wasn't what I pretended to be. +Why didn't you tell me, Barney?" + +Mary was blushing, and Barney's face was red. His eyes met Mary's and +both pairs were lowered, guiltily. + +Barney turned to Sanderson. + +"Look at me!" he said. "Do I look like a man who could fight Dale, +Silverthorn, and Maison--and the gang they had--with any hope of +victory? When I got here--after escaping Gary Miller and the others--I +was all in--sick and weak. It didn't take me long to see how things +were. But I knew I couldn't do anything. + +"I was waiting, though, for Gary Miller and his friends to come, to +claim the Double A. I would have killed them. But they didn't come. +You came. + +"At first I was not sure what to think of you. But I saw sympathy in +your eyes when you looked at Mary, and when you told Dale that you were +Will Bransford, I decided to keep silent. You looked capable, and when +I saw that you were willing to fight for Mary, why--why--I just let you +go. I--I was afraid that if I'd tell you who I was you'd throw up the +whole deal. And so I didn't say anything." + +Sanderson grinned. "That's the reason you was so willin' to sign all +the papers that wanted Will Bransford's signature. I sure was a +boxhead for not tumblin' to that." + +He laughed, meeting Mary's gaze and holding it. + +"Talkin' of throwin' up the deal," he said. "That couldn't be. Dale +an' Silverthorn an' Maison an' their gang of cutthroats couldn't make +me give it up. There's only one person could make me do that. She'd +only have to say that she don't think as much of me as I think she +ought to. And, then----" + +"She'll keep pretty silent about that, I think," interrupted Owen, +grinning at the girl's crimson face. + +"I wouldn't be takin' your word for it," grinned Sanderson, "it +wouldn't be reliable." + +"Why--" began Mary, and looked at Owen. + +"Sure," he laughed, "I'll go and take a walk. There are times when +three can't explain a thing as well as two." + +There was a silence following Owen's departure. + +Then Mary looked shyly at Sanderson, who was watching her with a smile. + +"Does it need any explaining?" she began. "Can't you see that----" + +"Shucks, little girl," he said gently, as he leaned toward her, "words +ain't--well, words ain't so awful important, are they?" + +Apparently words were not important. For within the next few minutes +there were few spoken. And progress was made without them. And then: + +"I believe I never was so happy as when I saw you, that morning, coming +in to Okar with Dale's body, and you said you had not killed him. And +if Barney--Will, had killed him that day--if he had really hanged him, +and Dale had died from it--I should have kept seeing Dale as he was +hanging there all my life." + +"It was Dale's day," said Sanderson. + +"And Okar's!" declared the girl. "The town has taken on a new spirit +since those men have left. And the whole basin has changed. Men are +more interested and eager. There is an atmosphere of fellowship that +was absent before. And, oh, Deal, how happy I am!" + +"You ain't got anything on me!" grinned Sanderson. + +And presently, looking toward the rim of the mesa, they saw Williams +and his men coming toward them from Lazette, with many wagons, loaded +with supplies and material for the new dam, forecasting a new day and a +new prosperity for the Double A--and themselves. + +"That's for a new deal," said Sanderson, watching the wagons and men. + +"Wrong," she laughed, happily, "it is all for a 'Square' Deal!" + +"All?" he returned, grinning at her. + +"All," she repeated, snuggling close to him. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SQUARE DEAL SANDERSON*** + + +******* This file should be named 16597-8.txt or 16597-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/5/9/16597 + + + +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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Allen St. John</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Square Deal Sanderson</p> +<p>Author: Charles Alden Seltzer</p> +<p>Release Date: August 25, 2005 [eBook #16597]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SQUARE DEAL SANDERSON***</p> +<br><br><center><h3>E-text prepared by Al Haines</h3></center><br><br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="Frontispiece" BORDER="2" WIDTH="364" HEIGHT="541"> +<H5> +[Frontispiece: Out of the valley went Streak, running with long, smooth +leaps.] +</H5> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +Square Deal Sanderson +</H1> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +AUTHOR OF +</H4> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE BOSS OF THE LAZY Y,<BR> +"BEAU" RAND, "DRAG" HARLAN,<BR> +THE RANCHMAN, ETC. +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +FRONTISPIECE BY +<BR><BR> +J. ALLEN ST. JOHN +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +GROSSET & DUNLAP +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +PUBLISHERS —— NEW YORK +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<h4 align="center">Published, March, 1922 +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<CENTER> + +<TABLE WIDTH="80%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"><B>CHAPTER</B></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">The North Trail</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">A Man's Curiosity</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">"Square" Deal Sanderson</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">In Which a Man Is Sympathetic</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">Water and Kisses</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">Sanderson Lies</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">Kisses—A Man Refuses Them</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">The Plotters</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">The Little Man Talks</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">Plain Talk</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">The Ultimatum</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">Dale Moves</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">A Plot that Worked</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">The Voice of the Coyote</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">Dale Pays a Visit</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">The Hand of the Enemy</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">The Trail Herd</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">Checked by the System</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">A Question of Brands</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">Devil's Hole</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">A Man Borrows Money</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">A Man from the Abyss</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">The Gunman</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">Concerning a Woman</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">A Man Is Aroused</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">A Man Is Hanged</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">The Ambush</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">Nyland Meets a Killer</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap29">Nyland's Vengeance</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap30">The Law Takes a Hand</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap31">The Fugitive</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap32">Winning a Fight</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap33">A Man Leaves Okar</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXIV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap34">A Man Gets a Square Deal</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap35">A Deal in Love</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +Square Deal Sanderson +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE NORTH RAID +</H3> + +<P> +An hour before, Deal Sanderson had opened his eyes. He had been +comfortably wrapped in his blanket; his head had been resting on a saddle +seat. His sleep over, he had discovered that the saddle seat felt hard +to his cheek. In changing his position he had awakened. His face toward +the east, he had seen a gray streak widening on the horizon—a herald of +the dawn. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson found what seemed to be a softer spot on the saddle, snuggled +himself in the blanket, and went to sleep again. Of course he had not +neglected to take one sweeping glance around the camp while awake, and +that one glance had convinced him that the camp was in order. +</P> + +<P> +The fire had long since gone out—there was a heap of white ashes to mark +the spot where it had been. His big brown horse—Streak—unencumbered by +rope or leather, was industriously cropping the dew-laden blades of some +bunch-grass within a dozen yards of him; and the mighty desolation of the +place was as complete as it had seemed when he had pitched his camp the +night before. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson reveled in the luxury of complete idleness. He grinned at the +widening streak of dawn as he closed his eyes. There would be no +vitriolic-voiced cook to bawl commands at him <I>this</I> morning. And no +sour-faced range boss to issue curt orders. +</P> + +<P> +In an hour or so—perhaps in two hours—Sanderson would crawl out of his +blanket, get his own breakfast, and ride northeastward. He was a free +agent now, and would be until he rode in to the Double A to assume his +new duties. +</P> + +<P> +Judging by the light, Sanderson had slept a full hour when he again +awakened. He stretched, yawned, and grinned at the brown horse. +</P> + +<P> +"You're still a-goin' it, Streak, eh?" he said, aloud. "I'd say you've +got a medium appetite. There's times when I envy you quite considerable." +</P> + +<P> +Reluctantly Sanderson sat up and looked around. He had pitched his camp +at the edge of a thicket of alder and aspen near a narrow stream of water +in a big arroyo. Fifty feet from the camp rose the sloping north wall of +the arroyo, with some dwarf spruce trees fringing its edge. Sanderson +had taken a look at the section of country visible from the arroyo edge +before pitching his camp. There were featureless sand hills and a wide +stretch of desert. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson started to get to his feet. Then he sat down again, stiffening +slowly, his right hand slipping quickly to the butt of the pistol at his +right hip. His chin went forward, his lips straightened, and his eyes +gleamed with cold alertness. +</P> + +<P> +A horseman had appeared from somewhere in the vast space beyond the +arroyo edge. Sanderson saw the outlines of animal and rider as they +appeared for an instant, partly screened from him by the trees and +undergrowth on the arroyo edge. Then horse and rider vanished, going +northward, away from the arroyo, silently, swiftly. +</P> + +<P> +Schooled to caution by his long experience in a section of country where +violence and sudden death were not even noteworthy incidents of life, and +where a man's safety depended entirely upon his own vigilance and wisdom, +Sanderson got up carefully, making no noise, slipped around the thicket +of alder, crouched behind a convenient rock, huge and jagged, and waited. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps the incident was closed. The rider might be innocent of any evil +intentions; he might by this time be riding straight away from the +arroyo. That was for Sanderson to determine. +</P> + +<P> +The rider of the horse—a black one—had seemed to be riding stealthily, +leaning forward over the black horse's mane as though desirous of +concealing his movements as much as possible. From whom? +</P> + +<P> +It had seemed that he feared Sanderson would see him; that he had +misjudged his distance from the gully—thinking he was far enough away to +escape observation, and yet not quite certain, crouching in the saddle to +be on the safe side in case he was nearer than he had thought. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson waited—for only a few minutes actually, but the time seemed +longer. Then, just when he was mentally debating an impulse to climb to +the top of the gully, to see if the rider was in sight, he heard a sound +as of a heavy body crashing through some underbrush, and saw two riders +skirting the edge of the arroyo near him. +</P> + +<P> +They halted their horses back of the spruce trees near the arroyo edge. +The rank undergrowth in the timber prevented them seeing Sanderson's +horse—which was further concealed by the thicket of alder. The men, +however, did not look into the arroyo. Their attention and interest +appeared to be centered upon the actions of the first horseman. Sitting +erect in their saddles, they shaded their eyes with their hands and gazed +northward. +</P> + +<P> +After a short look, one of the men laughed, unpleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Sneakin'—he is," said the one who laughed. "Knows we're campin' on his +trail, an' reckons on givin' us the slip. I never thought Bill would go +back on his friends thataway. We'll make him sweat, damn him!" +</P> + +<P> +The other cursed, also. "Hoggin' it, he is," he said. "I ain't never +trusted him. He won't divvy, eh? Well, he won't need it where he's +goin'." +</P> + +<P> +Both laughed. Then one said, coldly: "Well, I reckon we won't take +chances on losin' him again—like we did last night. We'll get him right +now!" +</P> + +<P> +They urged their horses away from the edge of the gully. Sanderson could +hear the clatter of hoofs, receding. He had heard, plainly, all the +conversation between the two. +</P> + +<P> +There was a grin of slight relief on Sanderson's face. The men were not +aiming at him, but at the first rider. It was clear that all were +concerned in a personal quarrel which was no concern of Sanderson's. It +was also apparent to Sanderson that the two men who had halted at the +edge of the arroyo were not of the type that contributed to the peace and +order of the country. +</P> + +<P> +Plainly, they were of the lower strata of riffraff which had drifted into +the West to exact its toll from a people who could not claim the +protection of a law that was remote and impotent. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson suspected that the first rider had been concerned in some +lawless transaction with the other two, and that the first rider had +decamped with the entire spoils. That much was indicated by the words of +the two. Dire punishment for the first man was imminent. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson had no sympathy for the first rider. He felt, though, a slight +curiosity over the probable outcome of the affair, and so, working +rapidly, he broke camp, threw saddle and bridle on the white horse, +strapped his slicker to the cantle of the saddle, and rode the brown +horse up the slope of the arroyo, taking the direction in which the three +men had disappeared. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MAN'S CURIOSITY +</H3> + +<P> +By the time Sanderson urged the brown horse up the crest of the slope, +the men he had determined to follow were far out in the desert. +Sanderson could see them, though the distance was considerable, riding +the crest of a ridge, directly northeastward. As that was following +the general direction in which Sanderson wanted to travel he was highly +pleased. +</P> + +<P> +"They're company," he told himself as he rode; "an' I've been a heap +lonesome." +</P> + +<P> +The men were not traveling fast. At times, when the first rider was +compelled to traverse high ground, Sanderson could see him—horse and +rider faintly outlined against the sky. Sanderson would note the +figure of the first rider, then watch the point at which the first +rider appeared until the others reached that point. Then, noting the +elapsed time, he could estimate the distance at which the pursuers +followed. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon they're gainin' on him," was Sanderson's mental comment when +an hour later he saw the first rider appear for a moment on the sky +line, vanish, reappear for an instant, only to be followed within a few +minutes by the figures of the other men. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was closing up the space that separated him from the two men, +and by that medium he knew they were not traveling rapidly, for the +brown horse was loping slowly. Thus he knew that the first man was not +yet aware that he was being followed. +</P> + +<P> +But some time later to Sanderson's ears was borne the faint, muffled +report of a firearm, and he smiled solemnly. +</P> + +<P> +"That first guy will know, now," he told himself. Sanderson kept +steadily on. In half an hour he heard half a dozen rifle reports in +quick succession, He could see the smoke puffs of the weapons, and he +knew the pursuit was over. +</P> + +<P> +The second riders had brought the first to bay in a section of broken +country featured by small, rock-strewn hills. By watching the smoke +balloon upward, Sanderson could determine the location of the men. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed to Sanderson that the two had separated, one swinging +westward and the other eastward, in an endeavor to render hazardous any +concealment the other might find. It was the old game of getting an +enemy between two fires, and Sanderson's lips curved with an +appreciative grin as he noted the fact. +</P> + +<P> +"Old-timers," he said. +</P> + +<P> +It was not Sanderson's affair. He told himself that many times as he +rode slowly forward. To his knowledge the country was cursed with too +many men of the type the two appeared to be; and as he had no doubt +that the other man was of that type also, they would be doing the +country a service were they to annihilate one another. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson, though, despite his conviction, felt a pulse of sympathy for +the first rider. It was that emotion which impelled him to keep going +cautiously forward when, by all the rules of life in that country, he +should have stood at a distance to allow the men to fight it out among +themselves. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's interest grew as the fight progressed. When he had +approached as far as he safely could without endangering his own life +and that of Streak, he dismounted at the bottom of a small hill, +trailed the reins over Streak's head and, carrying his rifle, made his +way stealthily to the crest of the hill. There, concealed behind an +irregularly shaped boulder, he peered at the combatants. +</P> + +<P> +He had heard several reports while dismounting and ascending the hill, +and by the time he looked over the crest he saw that the battle was +over. He saw the three men grouped about a cluster of rocks on a hill +not more than a hundred yards distant. Two of the men were bending +over the third, who was stretched out on his back, motionless. It +appeared to Sanderson that the two men were searching the pockets of +the other, for they were fumbling at the other's clothing and, +seemingly, putting something into their own pockets. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson scowled. Now that the fight was over, he was at liberty to +investigate; the ethics of life in the country did not forbid +that—though many men had found it as dangerous as interference. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson stood up, within full view of the two men, and hailed them. +</P> + +<P> +"What's bitin' you guys?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +The two men wheeled, facing Sanderson. The latter's answer came in the +shape of a rifle bullet, the weapon fired from the hip of one of the +men—a snapshot. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson had observed the movement almost as soon as it had begun, and +he threw himself head-long behind the shelter of the rock at his side +as the bullet droned over his head. +</P> + +<P> +If Sanderson had entertained any thought of the two men being +representatives of the law, trailing a wrongdoer, that thought would +have been dispelled by the action of the men in shooting at him. He +was now certain the men were what he had taken them to be, and he +grinned felinely as he squirmed around until he got into a position +from which he could see them. But when he did get into position the +men had vanished. +</P> + +<P> +However, Sanderson was not misled. He knew they had secreted +themselves behind some of the rocks in the vicinity, no doubt to wait a +reasonable time before endeavoring to discover whether the bullet had +accomplished its sinister object. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's grin grew broader. He had the men at a disadvantage. +Their horses, he had observed before calling to them, were in a little +depression at the right—and entirely out of reach of the men. +</P> + +<P> +To get to them they would have to expose themselves on an open stretch +between the spot where the horses were concealed and the hill on which +they were secreted, and on the open stretch they would be fair targets +for Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +The men had brought Sanderson into the fight, and he no longer had any +scruples. He was grimly enjoying himself, and he laid for an hour, +flat on his stomach behind the rock, his rifle muzzle projecting +between two medium-sized stones near the base of the large rock, his +eye trained along the barrel, watching the crest of the hill on which +the men were concealed. +</P> + +<P> +The first man was dead. Sanderson could see him, prone, motionless, +rigid. +</P> + +<P> +Evidently the two men were doubtful. Certainly they were cautious. +But at the end of an hour their curiosity must have conquered them, for +Sanderson, still alert and watchful, saw a dark blot slowly appear from +around the bulging side of a rock. +</P> + +<P> +The blot grew slowly larger, until Sanderson saw that it appeared to be +the crown of a hat. That it was a hat he made certain after a few +seconds of intent scrutiny; and that it was a hat without any head in +it he was also convinced, for he held his fire. An instant later the +hat was withdrawn. Then it came out again, and was held there for +several seconds. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson grinned. "I reckon they think I'm a yearlin'," was his +mental comment. +</P> + +<P> +There was another long wait. Sanderson could picture the two men +arguing the question that must deeply concern them: "Which shall be the +first to show himself?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd bet a million they're drawin' straws," grinned Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Whether that method decided the question Sanderson never knew. He +knew, however, that a hat was slowly coming into view around a side of +the rock, and he was positive that this time there was a head in the +hat. He could not have told now he knew there was a head in the hat, +but that was his conviction. +</P> + +<P> +The hat appeared slowly, gradually taking on definite shape in +Sanderson's eyes, until, with a cold grin, he noted some brown flesh +beneath it, and a section of dark beard. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson did not fire, then. The full head followed the hat, then +came a man's shoulders. Nothing happened. The man stepped from behind +the rock and stood out in full view. Still nothing happened. +</P> + +<P> +The man grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon we got him, Cal," he said. His voice was gloating. "I +reckoned I'd got him; he tumbled sorta offish—like it had got him in +the guts. That's what I aimed for, anyway. I reckon he done suffered +some, eh?" He guffawed, loudly. +</P> + +<P> +Then the other man appeared. He, too, was grinning. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon we'll go see. If you got him where you said you got him, I +reckon he done a lot of squirmin'. Been followin' us—you reckon?" +</P> + +<P> +They descended the slope of the hill, still talking. Evidently, +Sanderson's silence had completely convinced them that they had killed +him. +</P> + +<P> +But halfway down the hill, one of the men, watching the rock near +Sanderson as he walked, saw the muzzle of Sanderson's rifle projecting +from between the two rocks. +</P> + +<P> +For the second time since the appearance of Sanderson on the scene the +man discharged his rifle from the hip, and for the second time he +missed the target. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson, however, did not miss. His rifle went off, and the man fell +without a sound. The other, paralyzed from the shock, stood for an +instant, irresolute, then, seeming to discover from where Sanderson's +bullet had come, he raised his rifle. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's weapon crashed again. The second man shuddered, spun +violently around, and pitched headlong down the slope. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson came from behind the rock, grinning mirthlessly. He knew +where his bullets had gone, and he took no precautions when he emerged +from his hiding place and approached the men. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all, for you, I reckon," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Leaving them, he went to the top of the hill and bent over the other +man. A bullet fairly in the center of the man's forehead told +eloquently of the manner of his death. +</P> + +<P> +The man's face was not of so villainous a cast as the others. There +were marks of a past refinement on it; as there were also lines of +dissipation. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon this guy was all wool an' a yard wide, in his time," said +Sanderson; "but from the looks of him he was tryin' to live it down. +Now, we'll see what them other guys was goin' through his clothes for." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson knelt beside the man. From an inner pocket of the latter's +coat he drew a letter—faded and soiled, as though it had been read +much. There was another letter—a more recent one, undoubtedly, for +the paper was in much better condition. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson looked at both envelopes, and finally selected the most +soiled one. He hesitated an instant, and then withdrew the contents +and read: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MR. WILLIAM BRANSFORD, +<BR> +Tucson, Arizona. +</P> + +<P> +DEAR BROTHER WILL: The last time I heard from you, you were in Tucson. +That was ten years ago, and it seems an awful long time. I suppose it +is too much to hope that you are still there, but it is that hope which +is making me write this letter. +</P> + +<P> +Will, father is dead. He died yesterday, right after I got here. He +asked for you. Do you know what that means? It means he wanted you to +come back, Will. Poor father, he didn't really mean to be obstinate, +you know. +</P> + +<P> +I shall not write any more, for I am not sure that you will ever read +it. But if you do read it, you'll come back, won't you—or write? +Please. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Your loving sister, +<BR> +MARY BRANSFORD. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +The Double A Ranch. +<BR> +Union County, New Mexico. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Sanderson finished reading the letter. Then folding it, he shoved it +back into the envelope and gravely drew out the other letter. It bore +a later date and was in the same handwriting: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MR. WILLIAM BRANSFORD, +<BR> +Tucson, Arizona. +</P> + +<P> +DEAR BROTHER WILL: I was so delighted to get your letter. And I am so +eager to see you. It has been such a long, long time, hasn't it? +Fifteen years, isn't it? And ten years since I even got a letter from +you! +</P> + +<P> +I won't remember you, I am sure, for I am only nineteen now, and you +were only fifteen when you left home. And I suppose you have grown big +and strong, and have a deep, booming voice and a fierce-looking +mustache. Well, I shall love you, anyway. So hurry and come home. +</P> + +<P> +I am sending you a telegraph money order for one thousand dollars, for +from the tone of your letter it seems things are not going right with +you. Hurry home, won't you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +With love, +<BR> +Your sister, +<BR> +MARY. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Sanderson finished reading the letter. He meditated silently, turning +it over and over in his hands. The last letter was dated a month +before. Evidently Bransford had not hurried. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson searched all the other pockets, and discovered nothing of +further interest. Then he stood for a long time, looking down at the +man's face, studying it, his own face expressing disapproval. +</P> + +<P> +"Mebbe it's just as well that he didn't get to the Double A," he +thought, noting the coarse, brutal features of the other. +</P> + +<P> +"If a girl's got ideals it's sometimes a mighty good thing the real guy +don't come along to disabuse them. William ain't never goin' to get to +the Double A." +</P> + +<P> +He buried the body in a gully, then he returned to the other men. +</P> + +<P> +Upon their persons he found about nine hundred dollars in bills of +small denomination. It made a bulky package, and Sanderson stored it +in his slicker. Then he mounted Streak, turned the animal's head +toward the northeast, and rode into the glaring sunshine of the morning. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +"SQUARE" DEAL SANDERSON +</H3> + +<P> +Three days later, still traveling northeastward, Sanderson felt he must +be close to the Double A. Various signs and conclusions were +convincing. +</P> + +<P> +In the first place, he had been a week on the trail, and estimating his +pace conservatively, that time should bring him within easy riding +distance of the place he had set out to seek. There were so many miles +to be covered in so many days, and Streak was a prince of steady +travelers. +</P> + +<P> +Besides, yesterday at dusk, Sanderson had passed through Las Vegas. +Careful inquiry in the latter town had brought forth the intelligence +that the Double A was a hundred and seventy-five miles northeastward. +</P> + +<P> +"Country's short of cow-hands," said Sanderson's informer. "If you're +needin' work, an' forty a month looks good to you, why, I'd admire to +take you on. I'm German, of the Flyin' U, down the Cimarron a piece." +</P> + +<P> +"Me an' work has disagreed," grinned Sanderson; and he rode on, +meditating humorously over the lie. +</P> + +<P> +Work and Sanderson had never disagreed. Indeed, Sanderson had always +been convinced that work and he had agreed too well in the past. +Except for the few brief holidays that are the inevitable portion of +the average puncher who is human enough to yearn for the relaxation of +a trip to "town" once or twice a year, Sanderson and work had been +inseparable for half a dozen years. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's application had earned him the reputation of being +"reliable" and "trustworthy"—two terms that, in the lexicon of the +cow-country, were descriptive of virtues not at all common. In +Sanderson's case they were deserved—more, to them might have been +added another, "straight." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's trip northeastward had resulted partly from a desire to +escape the monotony of old scenes and familiar faces; and partly +because one day while in "town" he had listened attentively to a desert +nomad, or "drifter," who had told a tale of a country where water was +to be the magic which would open the gates of fortune to the eager and +serious-minded. +</P> + +<P> +"That country's goin' to blossom!" declared the Drifter. "An' the guy +which gets in on the ground floor is goin' to make a clean-up! They's +a range there—the Double A—which is right in the middle of things. A +guy named Bransford owns her—an' Bransford's on his last legs. He's +due to pass out <I>pronto</I>, or I'm a gopher! He's got a daughter +there—Mary—which is a pippin, an' no mistake! But she's sure got a +job on her hands, if the ol' man croaks. +</P> + +<P> +"They's a boy, somewheres, which ain't no good I've heard, an' if the +girl hangs on she's due for an uphill climb. She'll have a fight on +her hands too, with Alva Dale—a big rough devil of a man with a greedy +eye on the whole country—an' the girl, too, I reckon—if my eyes is +any good. I've seen him look at her—oh, man! If she was any relation +to me I'd climb Dale's frame sure as shootin'!" +</P> + +<P> +There had been more—the Drifter told a complete story. And Sanderson +had assimilated it without letting the other know he had been affected. +</P> + +<P> +Nor had he mentioned to Burroughs—his employer—a word concerning the +real reason for his desire to make a change. Not until he had written +to Bransford, and received a reply, did he acquaint Burroughs with his +decision to leave. As a matter of fact, Sanderson had delayed his +leave-taking for more than a month after receiving Bransford's letter, +being reluctant, now that his opportunity had come, to sever those +relations that, he now realized, had been decidedly pleasant. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure next to what's eatin' you," Burroughs told him on the day +Sanderson asked for his "time." "You're yearnin' for a change. It's a +thing that gets hold of a man's soul—if he's got one. They ain't no +fightin' it. I'm sure appreciatin' what you've done for me, an' if you +decide to come back any time, you'll find me a-welcomin' you with open +arms, as the sayin' is. You've got a bunch of coin comin'—three +thousand. I'm addin' a thousand to that—makin' her good measure. +That'll help you to start something." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson started northeastward without any illusions. A product of +the Far Southwest, where the ability to live depended upon those +natural, protective instincts and impulses which civilization frowns +upon, Sanderson was grimly confident of his accomplishments—which were +to draw a gun as quickly as any other man had ever drawn one, to shoot +as fast and as accurately as the next man—or a little faster and more +accurately; to be alert and self-contained, to talk as little as +possible; to listen well, and to deal fairly with his fellow-men. +</P> + +<P> +That philosophy had served Sanderson well. It had made him feared and +respected throughout Arizona; it had earned him the sobriquet +"Square"—a title which he valued. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson could not have told, however, just what motive had impelled +him to decide to go to the Double A. No doubt the Drifter's story +regarding the trouble that was soon to assail Mary Bransford had had +its effect, but he preferred to think he had merely grown tired of life +at the Pig-Pen—Burrough's ranch—and that the Drifter's story, coming +at the instant when the yearning for a change had seized upon him, had +decided him. +</P> + +<P> +He had persisted in that thought until after the finding of the letters +in William Bransford's pockets; and then, staring down at the man's +face, he had realized that he had been deluding himself, and, that he +was journeying northeastward merely because he was curious to see the +girl whom the Drifter had so vividly described. +</P> + +<P> +Away back in his mind, too, there might have been a chivalrous desire +to help her in the fight that was to come with Alva Dale. He had felt +his blood surge hotly at the prospect of a fight, with Mary Bransford +as the storm center; a passion to defend her had got into his soul; and +a hatred for Alva Dale had gripped him. +</P> + +<P> +Whatever the motive, he had come, and since he had looked down into +William Bransford's face, he had become conscious of a mighty +satisfaction. The two men who had trailed Bransford had been +cold-blooded murderers, and he had avenged Bransford completely. That +could not have happened if he had not yielded to the impulse to go to +the Double A. +</P> + +<P> +He was glad he had decided to go. He was now the bearer of ill news, +but he was convinced that the girl would want to know about her +brother—and he must tell her. And now, too, he was convinced that his +journey to the Double A had been previously arranged—by Fate, or +whatever Providence controls the destinies of humans. +</P> + +<P> +And that conviction helped him to fight down the sense of guilty +embarrassment that had afflicted him until now—the knowledge that he +was deliberately and unwarrantedly going to the Double A to interfere, +to throw himself into a fight with persons with whom he had no previous +acquaintance, for no other reason than that his chivalrous instincts +had prompted him. +</P> + +<P> +And yet his thoughts were not entirely serious as he rode. The +situation had its humorous side. +</P> + +<P> +"Mostly nothin' turns out as folks figure in the beginnin'," he told +himself. "Otherwise everything would be cut an' dried, an' there +wouldn't be a heap of fun in the world—for butters-in. An' folks +which scheme an' plot, tryin' to get things that belong to other folks, +would have it too easy. There's got to be folks that wander around, +nosin' into places that they shouldn't. Eh, Streak?" +</P> + +<P> +Streak did not answer, and Sanderson rode on, smiling gravely. +</P> + +<P> +He made a dry camp that night in a sea of mesquite at the edge of a +sand plain, although, he knew he could not now be far from the Double A +range. And in the early light of the morning he found his judgment +vindicated, for stretching before him, still in a northeasterly +direction, he saw a great, green-brown level sweeping away from his +feet and melting into some rimming mountains—a vast, natural basin of +gigantic proportions. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was almost at the end of his journey, it was early morning, +and he was in no hurry. He leisurely prepared his breakfast, sitting +on a flat rock as he ate, and scanning the basin. +</P> + +<P> +Mere bigness had never impressed Sanderson; the West had shown him +greater vistas than this mammoth basin. And yet his eyes glowed as he +looked out and down at the country that lay, slumbering in the pure +white light of the dawn. +</P> + +<P> +He saw, dotting the floor of the basin, the roofs of houses. From his +height they seemed to be close together, but Sanderson was not misled, +and he knew that they were separated by miles of virgin soil—of +sagebrush and yucca, and soapweed and other desert weeds that needed +not the magic of water to make them live. +</P> + +<P> +When Sanderson finally mounted Streak, the sun was up. It took Streak +two hours to descend the slope leading down into the basin, and when +once horse and rider were down, Sanderson dismounted and patted +Streak's moist flanks. +</P> + +<P> +"Some drop, eh, Streak?" he said. "But it didn't fool us none. We +knowed it was some distance, didn't we? An' they ain't foolin' us +about the rest of it, are they? The Drifter said to head toward the +Big Peak. The Double A would be right near there—in the foothills. +Looks easy, don't it? But I reckon we'll have to hump ourselves to get +there by feedin' time, this noon, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +A little later, Streak having rested, Sanderson mounted and rode +forward, toward the peak of a majestic mountain that loomed far above +them. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IH WHICH A MAN IS SYMPATHETIC +</H3> + +<P> +It was shortly after noon when Sanderson, urging Streak to the crest of +an isolated excrescence of earth surrounded by a level of sage and +cactus, saw within several hundred yards of him a collection of +buildings scattered on a broad plain that extended back several hundred +yards farther until it merged into the rock-faced wall of a butte that +loomed upward many feet. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson halted Streak on the hilltop to glance around. The +buildings, evidently, belonged to the Double A ranch, and the country +was all the Drifter had claimed for it. +</P> + +<P> +The big stretch of plain—in fact, the entire basin—could be made +fertile by the judicious use of water. Sanderson was not an engineer, +but he had sufficient natural knowledge of land to enable him to +distinguish good land from bad. Besides, near Phoenix he had inspected +a gigantic irrigation project, and had talked long with the engineer in +charge, and he had learned many things that would not have interested +the average cowpuncher. +</P> + +<P> +There was a break in the wall of the butte south of the group of +buildings, and out of the break Sanderson could see water tumbling and +splashing from one rock ledge to another until it rushed down, forming +quite a large stream as it struck the level and swirled hurriedly +between two sloping banks near the buildings. +</P> + +<P> +From where Sanderson sat on Streak he could look far back into the +break in the butte. The break made a sort of gorge, which widened as +it receded, and Sanderson suspected the presence of another basin +beyond the butte—in fact, the Drifter had told him of the presence of +another basin. +</P> + +<P> +"She'd make some lake, if she was bottled up!" was Sanderson's mental +comment after a long examination. +</P> + +<P> +His gaze became centered upon the buildings and the level surrounding +them. +</P> + +<P> +The buildings were ordinary, but the country was rugged and picturesque. +</P> + +<P> +Some foothills—which Sanderson had seen from the far side of the basin +that morning—rose from the level toward the south, their pine-clad +slopes sweeping sharply upward—a series of gigantic land waves that +seemed to leap upward and upward toward the higher peaks of some +mountains behind them. +</P> + +<P> +Northward, fringing the edge of the plain that began at the foothills +and stretched many miles, were other mountains; eastward the butte +extended far, receding, irregular, its jagged walls forming a barrier; +southwestward stretched the basin, in a gentle slope that was more +noticeable to Sanderson now than it had been while he had been riding +during the morning. +</P> + +<P> +The land around the buildings was fertile, for here was water which +could be utilized. The land over which Sanderson had been riding all +morning, though, was not so fertile; it needed the water that the +stream splashing out of the gorge could give it, with proper human +manipulation. +</P> + +<P> +All morning Sanderson's thoughts had dwelt upon the serious lack of +water in the basin. Now his thoughts grew definitely troubled. +</P> + +<P> +"There's goin' to be hell here—if this thing ain't handled right. The +Double A has got lots of water. The other fellows will be wantin' it. +They've got to have it." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson finished his inspection of the place. Then he spoke to +Streak, and the big brown horse descended the slope of the hill, struck +the level, and cantered slowly toward the ranch buildings near the +river. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson urged the brown horse toward the largest building of the +group, and as he rode he straightened in the saddle, rearranged his +neckerchief and brushed some of the dust from his clothing—for at this +minute his thoughts went to the girl—whom he now knew he had come to +see. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson no longer tried to delude himself. A strange reluctance +oppressed him, and a mighty embarrassment seized him; his face grew +crimson beneath the coat of tan upon it, and his lungs swelled with a +dread eagerness that had gripped him. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon I'm a damn fool!" he told himself as he forced Streak onward; +"I'm comin' here, not knowin' why, but still a-comin'." He grinned, +mirthlessly, but went forward. +</P> + +<P> +Heading toward the ranchhouse, he passed a huge building—the stable. +Swinging wide around one of its corners, he was about to ride onward +toward the ranchhouse, when out of the corners of his eyes he saw some +men and horses grouped in front of the stable. +</P> + +<P> +He pulled Streak up with a jerk, swung the animal's head around and +faced the group. There were five horses, saddled and bridled, standing +in front of the stable. Sanderson's eyes noted that in one swift +glance. But it was upon a man that Sanderson's gaze centered as Streak +came to a halt. +</P> + +<P> +The man dominated. There were other men standing in front of the +stable—and two women. But the man upon whom Sanderson's gaze rested +was the compelling figure. +</P> + +<P> +He was big—rugged, muscular, massive. He saw Sanderson at about the +instant Sanderson saw him, and he faced the latter, his chin thrusting, +his lips pouting, his eyes gleaming with cold belligerence. He wore a +gray woolen shirt, open at the throat, revealing a strong, wide chest. +</P> + +<P> +He was a tawny giant, exuding a force and virility and a compelling +magnetism that gripped one instantly. It affected Sanderson; the sight +of the man caused Sanderson's eyes to glow with reluctant admiration. +</P> + +<P> +And yet Sanderson disliked the man; he know instantly that this was +Alva Dale, concerning whom the Drifter had spoken; and the glow died +out of Sanderson's eyes and was replaced by the steady gleam of +premeditated and deliberate hostility. +</P> + +<P> +For an instant there was no word spoken; the glances of the two men +met, crossed, and neither man's eyes wavered. +</P> + +<P> +Then the big man spoke, gruffly, shortly, coldly: "What do you want?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson smiled faintly. "You runnin' things here?" he said, slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"Hell!" snarled the other, and stepped forward. +</P> + +<P> +"Because if you are," resumed Sanderson, his voice bringing the big man +to a halt, "you're the man I'm wantin' to do my gassin' to. If you +ain't runnin' things, why, I reckon you ain't in the deal at all." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm runnin' things," sneered the other. "Tell me what you're +wantin' or pull your freight out of here, <I>pronto</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure some disturbed over my mistake," grinned Sanderson. "You +couldn't be anybody but Bransford, or you wouldn't shoot off your gab +that reckless. If you're Bransford, I'm apologizin' to you for talkin' +back to you. But if you ain't Bransford, get off your hind legs an' +talk like a man!" +</P> + +<P> +The big man stiffened, and his eyes glittered malignantly. He moved +his feet slightly apart and let his body fall into a crouch. He held +that position, though, not moving a finger, when he saw a saturnine +smile wreathe Sanderson's lips, noted the slight motion with which +Sanderson edged Streak around a little, caught the slow, gradual +lifting of Sanderson's shoulder—the right; which presaged the drawing +of the heavy pistol that swung at Sanderson's right hip. +</P> + +<P> +Both men held their positions for some seconds; and the slow, heavy +breathing of the big man indicated his knowledge of the violence that +impended—the violence that, plainly, Sanderson would not retreat from. +</P> + +<P> +Then the big man's body began to relax, and a tinge of color came into +his face. He grinned, malevolently, with forced lightness. +</P> + +<P> +"Hell," he said; "you're damned particular! I'm runnin' things here, +but I ain't Bransford!" +</P> + +<P> +"I was reckonin' you wasn't," said Sanderson, mockingly. He now +ignored the big man, and fixed his gaze on one of the women—the one he +felt must be Mary Bransford. +</P> + +<P> +He had found time, while talking with the big man, to look twice at the +two women—and he had discovered they were not women at all, but girls. +More, he had discovered that one of them looked as he had pictured her +many times during the days since he had heard of her from the Drifter. +</P> + +<P> +She was standing slightly aside from the men—and from the other girl. +She was pale, her eyes were big and fright-laden, and since Sanderson's +comings she had been looking at him with an intense, wondering and +wistful gaze, her hands clasped over her breast, the fingers working +stiffly. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson colored as he looked at her; he was wondering what she would +say to him if she knew that he had come to the Double A purposely to +see her, and that seeing her he was afflicted with a dismayed +embarrassment that threatened to render him speechless. +</P> + +<P> +For she more than fulfilled the promise of what he had expected of her. +She was slightly above medium height, though not tall—a lissome, +graceful girl with direct, frank eyes. +</P> + +<P> +That was all Sanderson noted. Her hair, he saw, of course—it was done +up in bulging knots and folds—and was brown, and abundant, and it made +him gulp in admiration of it; but he could not have told what her +features were like—except that they were what he expected them to be. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon you're Mary Bransford, ma'am?" he said to her. +</P> + +<P> +The girl took a step toward him, unclasping her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said rapidly, "It can't be that you—that you——" +</P> + +<P> +The big man stepped between the girl and Sanderson, pushing the girl +aside and standing before Sanderson. But he spoke to the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," he said shortly; "I don't know what you two are goin' to +palaver about, but whatever it is it's goin' to wait until what we set +about to do is done." He looked at Sanderson. "Stranger, we ain't got +no objections to you doin' all the lookin' you want to do. But keep +your trap shut. Now, Miss Bransford," he continued, turning to the +girl, "we'll get this trial over with. You say them steers which me +an' my boys brought over an' put into your corral is Double A +steers—that you're sure the brand is yours—an' the earmarks?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-es," returned the girl slowly and hesitatingly. +</P> + +<P> +While talking with Sanderson she had unclasped her hands, and now she +clasped them again, twining the fingers with a quick, nervous motion. +Again her eyes grew wide with fright, and Sanderson saw her looking at +the other girl—he saw the other girl stiffen and stand straight, her +lips curving scornfully as she returned Miss Bransford's gaze. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's lips straightened. And now for the first time he gravely +inspected the faces in the group near him. +</P> + +<P> +Two men—cowboys—who stood near the big man, were evidently the "boys" +referred to by the latter. Their faces were set and expressionless. +Between them stood a rugged, well-built man of about twenty-two or +three. His hands were tied behind him, a rope was around his neck, the +free end coiled in the hands of one of the two men. +</P> + +<P> +The young man's face was sullen, but his head was held very erect, and +his eyes were steady and unwavering as he watched the big man. +</P> + +<P> +The girl at whom Miss Bransford was looking stood near the young man. +Sanderson saw her turn from Miss Bransford and look at the young man +piteously, her lips quivering suspiciously. +</P> + +<P> +There was another man in the group—an under-sized fellow, pale, +emaciated, with big, troubled, and perplexed eyes. Sanderson saw that +his hands were clenched, and that his thin lips were pressed so tightly +together that they were blue and bloodless. +</P> + +<P> +This man stood slightly apart from the others, as though he had no part +in what was going on; though Sanderson could tell from his manner that +he was laboring under an intense strain. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Bransford and the big man were the opposing forces in what was +transpiring—Sanderson knew that from Miss Bransford's manner of +answering the big man's question. Her "yes" had been uttered +reluctantly. Her testimony was damaging—she knew it, and her +sympathies were with the young man with the rope around his neck. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson knew nothing of the motives that were actuating the people of +this little drama, but he was entirely conscious of the visible forces +that were at work. +</P> + +<P> +Plainly, the big man had accused the captive of stealing cattle; he had +brought the supposed culprit to face the owner of the stolen stock; he +had constituted himself judge and jury, and was determined to hang the +young man. +</P> + +<P> +The two men with the big man were noncommittal. The pale, undersized +man was a mere onlooker whose sympathies were with the accused. Miss +Bransford would have been quite willing to have this young man escape +punishment, but she could not deny that the cattle in question belonged +to her. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was in doubt about the other young woman, though obviously +she was closely related to him—a wife, or sister—perhaps a sweetheart. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson studied the young man's face, comparing it with the big +man's, and his lips stiffened. He backed Streak slightly and swung +crosswise in the saddle, intense interest seizing him. +</P> + +<P> +The big man grinned, first at Miss Bransford, and then at the other +girl. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon that settles it," he said. "There don't seem to be nothin' +more to it. Miss Bransford says the cattle is hers, an' we found them +in Ben Nyland's corral. There ain't——-" +</P> + +<P> +"Alva Dale, you are a sneak and a liar!" +</P> + +<P> +This was the girl. She had stepped forward until she was within a +short pace from the big man. She stood erect, rigid, her hands +clenched at her sides; her chin lifted, her eyes flashing with defiant +passion. +</P> + +<P> +Dale smirked at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Peggy Nyland," he said, "you're handin' it to me pretty strong, ain't +you? You'd fight for your brother's life, of course. But I represent +the law here, an' I've got to do my duty. You won't deny that we found +them steers in your brother's corral?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I can't deny that!" declared the girl passionately. "You found +them there. They were there. But Ben did not put them there. Shall I +tell you who did? It was you! I heard a noise in the corral during +the night—last night! But I—thought it was just our own cattle. And +I did not go out to see. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, how I wish I had! But Ben didn't put the Double A cattle in the +corral, for Ben was in the house all the time. He went to bed when I +did, and I saw him, sleeping in his bunk, when the noise awakened me!" +</P> + +<P> +The girl stepped closer to Dale, her voice vibrating with scorn and +loathing. +</P> + +<P> +"If you didn't put the steers in our corral, you know who did, Alva +Dale," she went on. "And you know why they were put there! You didn't +do it because you wanted Ben's land—as I've heard you have said; you +did it to get Ben out of the way so that you could punish me! +</P> + +<P> +"If I had told Ben how you have hounded me—how you have insulted me, +Ben would have killed you long ago. Oh, I ought to have told him, but +I was afraid—afraid to bring more trouble to Ben!" +</P> + +<P> +Dale laughed sneeringly as he watched the young man writhe futilely in +the hands of his captors. +</P> + +<P> +"Sounds reasonable—an' dramatic," he said. "It'd do some good, mebbe, +if they was any soft-headed ninnies around that would believe it. But +the law ain't soft-headed. We found them steers in Ben Nyland's +corral—some of them marked with Ben's brand—the Star—blottin' out +the Double A. An' Miss Bransford admits the steers are hers. They +ain't nothin' more to be said." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, there is, Dale," said Miss Bransford. "It is quite evident there +has been a mistake made. I am willing to believe Peggy Nyland when she +says Ben was asleep in the cabin all night—with her. At any rate, I +don't want any hanging over a few cattle. I want you to let Ben Nyland +go." +</P> + +<P> +Dale wheeled and faced Miss Bransford. His face reddened angrily, but +he managed to smile. +</P> + +<P> +"It's too late, Miss Bransford. The evidence is all in. There's got +to be rules to govern such cases as this. Because you own the steers +is no sign you've got a right to defeat the aims of justice. I'd like +mighty well to accommodate you, but I've got my duty to consider, an' I +can't let him off. Ben Nyland has got to hang, an' that's all there is +to it!" +</P> + +<P> +There came a passionate outcry from Peggy Nyland; and then she had her +arms around her brother's neck, sobbing that she would never let him be +hanged. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Bransford's eyes were blazing with rage and scorn as they +challenged Dale's. She walked close to him and said something in a low +tone to him, at which he answered, though less gruffly than before, +that it was "no use." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Bransford looked around appealingly; first at the pale, anemic +little man with big eyes, who shifted his feet and looked +uncomfortable; then her gaze went to Sanderson who, resting his left +elbow on the pommel of the saddle, was watching her with squinting, +quizzical eyes. +</P> + +<P> +There was an appeal in Miss Bransford's glance that made the blood leap +to Sanderson's face. Her eyes were shining with an eloquent yearning +that would have caused him to kill Dale—if he had thought killing the +man would have been the means of saving Ben Nyland. +</P> + +<P> +And then Mary Bransford was at his side, her hands grasping his, +holding them tightly as her gaze sought his and held it. +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you please do something?" she pleaded. "Oh, if it only could +be! That's a mystery to you, perhaps, but when I spoke to you before I +was going to ask you if—if— But then, of course you couldn't be—or +you would have spoken before." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's eyes glowed with a cold fire. He worked his hands free, +patted hers reassuringly, and gently pushed her away from Streak. +</P> + +<P> +He swung down from the saddle and walked to Dale. The big man had his +back turned to Sanderson, and when Sanderson reached him he leaned over +his shoulder and said gently: +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Dale." +</P> + +<P> +The latter wheeled, recognizing Sanderson's voice and snarling into the +latter's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson grinned mildly. "I reckon you've got to let Ben Nyland off, +Dale—he ain't guilty. Mebbe I ought to have stuck in my gab before, +but I was figurin' that mebbe you wouldn't go to crowdin' him so close. +Ben didn't steal no steers; he run them into his corral by my orders." +</P> + +<P> +Dale guffawed loudly and stepped back to sneer at Sanderson. But he +had noted the steadiness of the latter's eyes and the sneer faded. +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" he said. "Your orders! An' who in hell are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm Bill Bransford," said Sanderson quietly, and he grinned +mirthlessly at Dale over the two or three feet of space that separated +them. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WATER AND KISSES +</H3> + +<P> +For several seconds Dale did not speak. A crimson stain appeared above +the collar of his shirt and spread until it covered his face and neck, +leaving his cheeks poisonously bloated and his eyes glaring. +</P> + +<P> +But the steady eyes and the cold, deliberate demeanor of Sanderson did +much to help Dale regain his self-control—which he did, while Mary +Bransford, running forward, tried to throw her arms around Sanderson's +neck. She was prevented from accomplishing this design by Sanderson +who, while facing Dale, shoved the girl away from him, almost roughly. +</P> + +<P> +"There's time for that after we've settled with Dale," he told the girl +gruffly. +</P> + +<P> +Dale had recovered; he sneered. "It's easy enough to make a claim like +that, but it's another thing to prove it. How in hell do we know +you're Bill Bransford?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's smile was maddening. "I ain't aimin' to prove nothin'—to +you!" he said. But he reached into a pocket, drew out the two letters +he had taken from the real Bransford's pocket, and passed them back to +Mary Bransford, still facing Dale. +</P> + +<P> +He grinned at Dale's face as the latter watched Mary while she read the +letters, gathering from the scowl that swept over the other's lips that +Mary had accepted them as proof of his identity. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll find the most of that thousand you sent me in my slicker," he +told the girl. And while Mary ran to Streak, unstrapped the slicker, +tore it open, and secured the money, Sanderson watched Dale's face, +grinning mockingly. +</P> + +<P> +"O Will—Will!" cried the girl joyously behind Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's smile grew. "Seems to prove a heap, don't it?" he said to +Dale. "I know a little about law myself. I won't be pressin' no +charge against Nyland. Take your rope off him an' turn him free. An' +then mebbe you'll be accommodatin' enough to hit the breeze while the +hittin's good—for me an' Miss—my sister's sort of figurin' on a +reunion—bein' disunited for so long." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at Dale with cold, unwavering eyes until the latter, +sneering, turned and ordered his men to remove the rope from Nyland. +With his hands resting idly on his hips he watched Dale and the men +ride away. Then he shook hands mechanically with Nyland, permitted +Peggy to kiss him—which she did fervently, and led her brother away. +Then Sanderson turned, to see Mary smiling and blushing, not more than +two or three feet distant. +</P> + +<P> +He stood still, and she stepped slowly toward him, the blush on her +face deepening. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," she said as she came dose to him and placed her hands on his +shoulders, "this seems positively brazen—for you seem like a stranger +to me." +</P> + +<P> +Then she deliberately took both his cheeks in her hands, stood on the +tips of her toes and kissed him three or four times, squarely on the +lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, ma'am—" began Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary!" she corrected, shaking him. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, ma'am—Mary, that is—you see I ain't just——" +</P> + +<P> +"You're the dearest and best brother that ever lived," she declared, +placing a hand over his mouth, "even though you did stay away for so +many years. Not another word now!" she warned as she took him by an +arm and led him toward the ranchhouse; "not a word about anything until +you've eaten and rested. Why, you look tired to death—almost!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson wanted to talk; he wanted to tell Mary Bransford that he was +not her brother; that he had assumed the rôle merely for the purpose of +defeating Dale's aim. His sole purpose had been to help Mary Bransford +out of a difficult situation; he had acted on impulse—an impulse +resulting from the pleading look she had given him, together with the +knowledge that she had wanted to save Nyland. +</P> + +<P> +Now that the incident was closed, and Nyland saved, he wanted to make +his confession, be forgiven, and received into Mary's good graces. +</P> + +<P> +He followed the girl into the house, but as he halted for an instant on +the threshold, just before entering, he looked hack, to see the little, +anemic man standing near the house, looking at him with an odd smile. +Sanderson flushed and made a grimace at the little man, whereat the +latter's smile grew broad and eloquent. +</P> + +<P> +"What's eatin' him, I wonder?" was Sanderson's mental comment. "He +looked mighty fussed up while Dale was doin' the talkin'. Likely he's +just tickled—like the rest of them." +</P> + +<P> +Mary led Sanderson into the sitting-room to a big easy-chair, shoved +him into it, and stood behind him, running her fingers through his +hair. Meanwhile she talked rapidly, telling him of the elder +Bransford's last moments, of incidents that had occurred during his +absence from the ranch; of other incidents that had to do with her life +at a school on the coast; of many things of which he was in complete +ignorance. +</P> + +<P> +Desperate over his inability to interrupt her flow of talk, conscious +of the falseness of his position, squirming under her caresses, and +cursing himself heartily for yielding to the absurd impulse that had +placed him in so ridiculous a predicament, Sanderson opened his month a +dozen times to make his confession, but each time closed it again, +unsuccessful. +</P> + +<P> +At last, nerved to the ordeal by the knowledge that each succeeding +moment was making his position more difficult, and his ultimate pardon +less certain, he wrenched himself free and stood up, his face crimson. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, ma'am——" +</P> + +<P> +"Mary!" she corrected, shaking a finger at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary," he repeated tonelessly, "now look here," he went on hoarsely. +"I want to tell you that I ain't the man you take me to be. I'm——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you are," she insisted, smiling and placing her hands on his +shoulders. "You are a real man. I'll wager Dale thinks so; and Peggy +Nyland, and Ben. Now, wait!" she added as he tried to speak. "I want +to tell you something. Do you know what would have happened if you had +not got here today? +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you," she went on again, giving him no opportunity to inject +a word. "Dale would have taken the Double A away from me! He told me +so! He was over here yesterday, gloating over me. Do you know what he +claims? That I am not a Bransford; that I am merely an adopted +daughter—not even a legally adopted one; that father just took me, +when I was a year old, without going through any legal formalities. +</P> + +<P> +"Dale claims to have proof of that. He won't tell me where he got it. +He has some sort of trumped-up evidence, I suppose, or he would not +have talked so confidently. And he is all-powerful in the basin. He +is friendly with all the big politicians in the territory, and is +ruthless and merciless. I feel that he would have succeeded, if you +had not come. +</P> + +<P> +"I know what he wants; he wants the Double A on account of the water. +He is prepared to go any length to get it—to commit murder, if +necessary. He could take it away from me, for I wouldn't know how to +fight him. But he can't take it away from you, Will. And he can't say +you have no claim to the Double A, for father willed it to you, and the +will has been recorded in the Probate Court in Las Vegas! +</P> + +<P> +"O Will; I am <I>so</I> glad you came," she went on, stroking and patting +his arms. "When I spoke to you the first time, out there by the +stable, I was certain of you, though I dreaded to have you speak for +fear you would say otherwise. And if it hadn't been you, I believe I +should have died." +</P> + +<P> +"An' if you'd find out, now, that I ain't Will Bransford," said +Sanderson slowly, "what then?" +</P> + +<P> +"That can't be," she said, looking him straight in the eyes, and +holding his gaze for a long time, while she searched his face for signs +of that playful deceit that she expected to see reflected there. +</P> + +<P> +She saw it, evidently, or what was certainly an excellent counterfeit +of it—though Sanderson was in no jocular mood, for at that moment he +felt himself being drawn further and further into the meshes of the +trap he had laid for himself—and she smiled trustfully at him, drawing +a deep sigh of satisfaction and laying her head against his shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"That can't be," she repeated. "No man could deceive a woman like +that!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson groaned, mentally. He couldn't confess now and at the same +time entertain any hope that she would forgive him. +</P> + +<P> +Nor could he—knowing what he knew now of Dale's plans—brutally tell +her the truth and leave her to fight Dale single-handed, +</P> + +<P> +And there was still another consideration to deter him from making a +confession. By impersonating her brother he had raised her hopes high. +How could he tell her that her brother had been killed, that he had +buried him in a desolate section of a far-off desert after taking his +papers and his money? +</P> + +<P> +He felt, from her manner when he had tentatively asked her to consider +the possibility of his not being her brother, that the truth would kill +her, as she had said. +</P> + +<P> +Worse, were he now to inform her of what had happened in the desert, +she might not believe him; she might indeed—considering that he +already had dealt doubly with her—accuse him of being her brother's +murderer! +</P> + +<P> +Again Sanderson groaned in spirit. To confess to her would be to +destroy her; to withhold the confession and to continue to impersonate +her brother was to act the rôle of a cad. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson hesitated between a choice of the two evils, and was lost. +For she gave him no time for serious and continued thought. Taking him +by an arm she led him into a room off the sitting-room, shoving him +through the door laughingly. +</P> + +<P> +"That is to be your room," she said. "I fixed it up for you more than +a month ago. You go in there and get some sleep. Sleep until dusk. +By that time I'll have supper ready. And then, after supper, there are +so many things that I want to say to you. So get a good sleep!" +</P> + +<P> +She closed the door and went out, and Sanderson sank into a chair. +Later, he locked the door, pulled the chair over near a window—from +which he got a good view of the frowning butte at the edge of the +level—and stared out, filled with a sensation of complete disgust. +</P> + +<P> +"Hell," he said, after a time, "I'm sure a triple-plated boxhead, an' +no mistake!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SANDERSON LIES +</H3> + +<P> +Sanderson did not sleep. He sat at the window all afternoon, dismally +trying to devise way of escape from the dilemma. He did not succeed. +He had gone too far now to make a confession sound reasonably +convincing; and he could not desert the girl to Dale. That was not to +be thought of. And he was certain that if he admitted the deception, +the girl would banish him as though he were a pestilence. +</P> + +<P> +He was hopelessly entangled. And yet, continuing to ponder the +situation, he saw that he need not completely yield to pessimism. For +though circumstances—and his own lack of foresight—had placed him in +a contemptible position—he need not act the blackguard. On the +contrary, he could admirably assume the rôle of protector. +</P> + +<P> +The position would not be without its difficulties, and the deception +meant that he could never be to Mary Bransford what he wanted to be to +her; but he could at least save the Double A for her. That done, and +his confession made, he could go on his way, satisfied that he had at +least beaten Dale. +</P> + +<P> +His decision made, Sanderson got up, opened the door a trifle, and +looked into the sitting-room. It was almost dusk, and, judging from +the sounds that reached his ears from the direction of the kitchen, +Mary intended to keep her promise regarding "supper." +</P> + +<P> +Feeling guilty, though grimly determined to continue the deception to +the end—whatever the end might be—Sanderson stole through the +sitting-room, out through the door leading to the porch, and made his +way to a shed lean-to back of the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +There he found a tin washbasin, some water, and a towel, and for ten +minutes he worked with them. Then he discovered a comb, and a broken +bit of mirror fixed to the wall of the lean-to, before which he combed +his hair and studied his reflection. He noted the unusual flush on his +cheeks, but grinned brazenly into the glass. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure some flustered," he told his reflection. +</P> + +<P> +Arrayed for a second inspection by Mary Bransford, Sanderson stood for +a long time at the door of the lean-to, trying to screw up his courage +to the point of confronting the girl. +</P> + +<P> +He succeeded finally, and walked slowly to the outside kitchen door, +where he stood, looking in at Mary. +</P> + +<P> +The girl was working over the stove, from which, floating to the +doorway where Sanderson stood, came various delicious odors. +</P> + +<P> +Mary was arrayed in a neat-fitting house dress of some soft print +material, with a huge apron over it. Her sleeves were rolled slightly +above the elbows; her face was flushed, and when she turned and saw +Sanderson her eyes grew very bright. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," she said; "you are up! I was just thinking of calling you!" She +ran to him, threw her arms around him, and, in spite of his efforts to +evade her, she kissed him first on one cheek and then on the other. +</P> + +<P> +Noting his reluctance she stepped back and looked reprovingly at him. +</P> + +<P> +"You seem so distant, Will. And I am so glad to see you!" +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't used to bein' kissed, I expect." +</P> + +<P> +"But—by your sister!" +</P> + +<P> +He reddened. "I ain't seen you for a long time, you know. Give me +time, an' mebbe I'll get used to it." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope so," she smiled. "I should feel lost if I could not kiss my +brother. You have washed, too!" she added, noting his glowing face and +his freshly combed hair. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +"Mary!" she corrected. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary," grinned Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Mary turned to the stove. "You go out and find a chair on the porch," +she directed, over her shoulder. "I'll have supper ready in a jiffy. +It's too hot for you in here." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson obeyed. From the deeply crimson hue of his face it was +apparent that the heat of the kitchen had affected him. That, at +least, must have been the reason Mary had ordered him away. His face +<I>felt</I> hot. +</P> + +<P> +He found a chair on the porch, and he sank into it, feeling like a +criminal. There was a certain humor in the situation. Sanderson felt +it, but could not appreciate it, and he sat, hunched forward, staring +glumly into the dusk that had settled over the basin. +</P> + +<P> +He had been sitting on the porch for some minutes when he became aware +of a figure near him, and he turned slowly to see the little, anemic +man standing not far away. +</P> + +<P> +"Cooling off?" suggested the little man. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson straightened. "How in hell do you know I'm hot?" he demanded +gruffly. +</P> + +<P> +The little man grinned. "There's signs. Your face looks like you'd +had it in an oven. Now, don't lose your temper; I didn't mean to +offend you." +</P> + +<P> +The little man's voice was placative; his manner gravely ingratiating. +Yet Sanderson divined that the other was inwardly laughing at him. +Why? Sanderson did not know. He was aware that he must seem awkward +in the rôle of brother, and he suspected that the little man had +noticed it; possibly the little man was one of those keen-witted and +humorously inclined persons who find amusement in the incongruous. +</P> + +<P> +There was certainly humor in the man's face, in the glint of his eyes, +and in the curve of his lips. His face was seamed and wrinkled; his +ears were big and prominent, the tips bending outward under the brim of +a felt hat that was too large for him; his mouth was large, and +Sanderson's impression of it was that it could not be closed far enough +to conceal all the teeth, but that the lips were continually trying to +stretch far enough to accomplish the feat. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was certain it was that continual effort of the muscles of +the lips that gave to his mouth its humorous expression. +</P> + +<P> +The man was not over five feet and two or three inches tall, and +crowning his slender body was a head that was entirely out of +proportion to the rest of him. He was not repulsive-looking, however, +and a glance at his eyes convinced Sanderson that anything Providence +had taken from his body had been added, by way of compensation, to his +intellect. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson found it hard to resent the man's seeming impertinence. He +grinned reluctantly at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Did I tell you you'd hurt my feelin's?" he inquired. "What oven do +you think I had my head in?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't say," grinned the little man. "There's places that are +hotter than an oven. And if a man has never been a wolf with women, it +might be expected that he'd feel sort of warm to be kissed and fussed +over by a sister he's not seen for a good many years. He'd seem like a +stranger to her—almost." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's eyes glowed with a new interest in the little man. +</P> + +<P> +"How did you know I wasn't a wolf with women?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks," said the other; "you're bashful, and you don't run to vanity. +Any fool could see that." +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't been introduced to you—regular," said Sanderson, "but you +seem to be a heap long on common sense, an' I'd be glad to know you. +What did you say your name was?" +</P> + +<P> +"Barney Owen." +</P> + +<P> +"What you doin' at the Double A? You ought be herd-ridin' scholars in +a district schoolhouse." +</P> + +<P> +"Missed my calling," grinned the other. "I got to know too much to +teach school, but didn't know enough to let John Barleycorn alone. I'm +a drifter, sort of. Been roaming around the north country. Struck the +basin about three weeks ago. Miss Bransford was needing men—her +father—yours, too, of course—having passed out rather sudden. I was +wanting work mighty had, and Miss Bransford took me on because I was +big enough to do the work of half a dozen men." +</P> + +<P> +His face grew grave. Sanderson understood. Miss Bransford had hired +Owen out of pity. Sanderson did not answer. +</P> + +<P> +The little man's face worked strangely, and his eyes glowed. +</P> + +<P> +"If you hadn't come when you did, I would have earned my keep, and Alva +Dale would be where he wouldn't bother Miss Bransford any more," he +said. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson straightened. "You'd have shot him, you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +Owen did not speak, merely nodding his head. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson smiled. "Then I'm sort of sorry come when I did. But do you +think shootin' Dale would have ended it?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; Dale has friends." Owen leaned toward Sanderson, his face working +with passion. "I hate Dale," he said hoarsely. "I hate him worse than +I hate any snake that I ever saw. I hadn't been here two days when he +sneered at me and called me a freak. I'll kill him—some day. Your +coming has merely delayed the time. But before he dies I want to see +him beaten at this game he's tryin' to work on Miss Bransford. And +I'll kill any man that tries to give Miss Bransford the worst of it. +</P> + +<P> +"You've got a fight on your hands. I know Dale and his gang, and +they'll make things mighty interesting for you and Miss Bransford. But +I'll help you, if you say the word. I'm not much for looks—as you can +see—but I can sling a gun with any man I've ever met. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd have tried to fight Dale alone—for Miss Bransford's sake—but I +realize that things are against me. I haven't the size, and I haven't +the nerve to take the initiative. Besides, I drink. I get riotously +drunk. I can't help it. I can't depend on myself. But I can help +you, and I will." +</P> + +<P> +The man's earnestness was genuine, and though Sanderson had little +confidence in the other's ability to take a large part in what was to +come, he respected the spirit that had prompted the offer. So he +reached out and took the man's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Any man that feels as strongly as you do can do a heap—at anything," +he said. "We'll call it a deal. But you're under my orders." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," returned Owen, gripping the hand held out to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Will!" came Mary's voice from the kitchen, "supper is ready!" +</P> + +<P> +Owen laughed lowly, dropped Sanderson's hand, and slipped away into the +growing darkness. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson got up and faced the kitchen door, hesitating, reluctant +again to face the girl and to continue the deception. Necessity drove +him to the door, however, and when he reached it, he saw Mary standing +near the center of the kitchen, waiting for him. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe you are hungry at all!" she declared, looking keenly +at him. "And do you know, I think you blush more easily than any man I +ever saw. But don't let that bother you," she added, laughing; +"blushes become you. Will," she went on, tenderly pressing his arm as +she led him through a door into the dining-room, "you are awfully +good-looking!" +</P> + +<P> +"You'll have me gettin' a swelled head if you go to talkin' like that," +he said, without looking at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no; you couldn't be vain if you tried. None of the Bransfords +were ever vain—or conceited. But they all have had good appetites," +she told him, shaking a finger at him. "And if you don't eat heartily +I shall believe your long absence from home has taken some of the +Bransford out of you!" +</P> + +<P> +She pulled a chair out for aim, and took another at the table opposite +him. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson ate; there was no way out of it, though he felt awkward and +uncomfortable. He kept wondering what she would say to him if she knew +the truth. It seemed to him that had the girl looked closely at him +she might have seen the guilt in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +But apparently she was not thinking of doubting him—it was that +knowledge which made Sanderson realize how contemptible was the part he +was playing. She had accepted him on trust, without question, with the +implicit and matter-of-fact faith of a child. +</P> + +<P> +He listened in silence while she told him many things about the +Bransfords—incidents that had occurred during his supposed absence, +intimate little happenings that he had no right to hear. And he sat, +silently eating, unable to interrupt, feeling more guilty and +despicable all the time. +</P> + +<P> +But he broke in after a time, gruffly: +</P> + +<P> +"What's the trouble between Dale and the Nylands?" +</P> + +<P> +Instantly she stiffened. "I forgot to tell you about that. Ben Nyland +is a nester. He has a quarter-section of land on the northwestern edge +of the basin. But he hasn't proved on it. The land adjoins Dale's. +Dale wants it—he has always wanted it. And he means to have it. He +also wants Peggy Nyland. +</P> + +<P> +"Dale is a beast! You heard Peggy tell how he has hounded her. It is +true; she has told me about it more than once. Dale hasn't told, of +course; but it is my opinion that Dale put the Double A cattle into +Ben's corral so that he could hang Ben. With Ben out of the way he +could take the Nyland property—and Peggy, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Why did he use Double A cattle?" +</P> + +<P> +Mary paled. "Don't you see the hideous humor of that? He knows Peggy +Nyland and I are friends. Dale is ruthless and subtle. Can't you +understand how a man of that type would enjoy seeing me send my +friend's brother to his death—and the brother innocent?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you tell Dale the cattle did not belong to you?" +</P> + +<P> +Mary smiled faintly. "I couldn't. To do so would have involved Ben +Nyland in more trouble. Dale would have got one of his friends to +claim them. And then I could have done nothing—having disclaimed the +ownership of the stock. And I—I couldn't lie. And, besides, I kept +hoping that something would happen. I had a premonition that something +<I>would</I> happen. And something did happen—you came!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Sanderson inanely, "I came." +</P> + +<P> +He drew a large red handkerchief from a pocket and mopped some huge +beads of sweat from his face and forehead. When the handkerchief came +out a sheet of paper, folded and crumpled, fluttered toward the floor, +describing an eccentric circle and landing within a foot of Mary's feet. +</P> + +<P> +The girl saw that Sanderson had not noticed the loss of the paper, and +she stooped and recovered it. She held it in a hand while Sanderson +continued to wipe the perspiration from his face, and noting that he +was busily engaged she smoothed the paper on the table in front of her +and peered mischievously at it. And then, her curiosity conquering +her, she read, for the writing on the paper was strangely familiar. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson having restored the handkerchief to its pocket, noticed +Mary's start, and saw her look at him, her eyes wide and perplexed. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Will, where did you get this?" she inquired, sitting very erect. +</P> + +<P> +"Mebbe if you'd tell me what it is I could help you out," he grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, it's a letter father wrote to a man in Tombstone, Arizona. See +here! Father's name is signed to it! I saw father write it. Why, I +rode over to Dry Bottom and mailed it! This man had written to father +a long time before, asking for a job. I have his letter somewhere. It +was the oddest letter! It was positively a gem of formality. I can +remember every word of it, for I must have read it a dozen times. It +ran: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"DEAR SIR: +</P> + +<P> +"The undersigned has been at the location noted below for a term of +years and desires to make a change. If you have an opening for a good +all-around man, the undersigned would be willing to work for you. If +you would want a recommendation, you can address Amos Burroughs, of the +Pig-Pen Ranch, near Tombstone, where the undersigned is employed. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Yours truly,<br> +<BR> +"DEAL SANDERSON." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Mary leaned forward in her chair and looked at Sanderson with eager, +questioning eyes. Sanderson stared vacantly back at her. +</P> + +<P> +She held the letter up to him. "This is father's answer, telling the +man to come on. How on earth did you get hold of it?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson had slumped down in his chair. He saw discovery and disgrace +in prospect. In the total stoppage of his thoughts no way of escape or +evasion suggested itself. At the outset he was to be exposed as a +miserable impostor. +</P> + +<P> +He groaned, grinned vacuously at Mary, and again produced the +handkerchief, wiping away drops of perspiration that were twice as big +as those he had previously mopped off. +</P> + +<P> +Mary continued to stare at him, repeating the question: "How did you +get it?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's composure began to return; his grin grew wider and more +intelligent, and at the sixth repetition of Mary's question he +answered, boldly: +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't goin' to tell you about that. You see, ma'am——" +</P> + +<P> +"Mary!" +</P> + +<P> +"You see, Mary, I was goin' to fool Brans—dad. I wrote, askin' him +for the job, an' I was intendin' to come on, to surprise him. But +before I told him who I was, I was goin' to feel him out, an' find out +what he thought of me. Then I got your letter, tellin' me he was dead, +an' so there wasn't any more use of tryin' to fool him." +</P> + +<P> +"But that name, 'Sanderson?' That isn't your name, Will!" +</P> + +<P> +"It was," he grinned. "When I left home I didn't want anybody to be +runnin' into me an' recognizin' me, so I changed it to Sanderson. Deal +Sanderson." +</P> + +<P> +The girl's expression changed to delight; she sat erect and clapped her +hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," she said, "I wish father was here to listen to this! He thought +all along that you were going to turn out bad. If he only knew! Will, +you don't mean to tell me that you are the Sanderson that we all know +of here—that nearly everybody in the country has heard about; the man +who is called 'Square Deal' Sanderson by all his friends—and even by +his enemies—because of his determination to do right—and to make +everyone else do right too!" +</P> + +<P> +Again Sanderson resorted to the handkerchief. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't reckon they've talked about me that strong," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"But they have! Oh, I'm so happy, Will. Why, when Dale hears about it +he'll be positively venomous—and scared. I don't think he will bother +the Double A again—after he hears of it!" +</P> + +<P> +But Sanderson merely smirked mirthlessly; he saw no reason for being +joyful over the lie he had told. He was getting deeper and deeper into +the mire of deceit and prevarication, and there seemed to be no escape. +</P> + +<P> +And now, when he had committed himself, he realized that he might have +evaded it all, this last lie at least, by telling Mary that he had +picked the note up on the desert, or anywhere, for that matter, and she +would have been forced to believe him. +</P> + +<P> +He kept her away from him, fending off her caresses with a pretense of +slight indisposition until suddenly panic-stricken over insistence, he +told her he was going to bed, bolted into the room, locked the door +behind him, and sat long in the darkness and the heat, filling the room +with a profane appreciation of himself as a double-dyed fool who could +not even lie intelligently. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +KISSES—A MAN REFUSES THEM +</H3> + +<P> +There was a kerosene lamp in Sanderson's room, and when, after an hour +of gloomy silence in the dark, he got up and lit the lamp, he felt +decidedly better. He was undressing, preparing to get into bed, when +he was assailed with a thought that brought the perspiration out on him +again. +</P> + +<P> +This time it was a cold sweat, and it came with the realization that +discovery was again imminent, for if, as Mary had said, she had kept +Sanderson's letter to her father, there were in existence two +letters—his own and Will Bransford's—inevitably in different +handwriting, both of which he had claimed to have written. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson groaned. The more he lied the deeper he became entangled. +He pulled on his trousers, and stood shoeless, gazing desperately +around the room. +</P> + +<P> +He simply must destroy that letter, or Mary, comparing it with the +letter her brother had written would discover the deception. +</P> + +<P> +It was the first time in Sanderson's life that had ever attempted to +deceive anybody, and he was in the grip of a cringing dread. +</P> + +<P> +For the first time since he occupied the room he inspected it, noting +its furnishings. His heart thumped wildly with hope while he looked. +</P> + +<P> +It was a woman's room—Mary's, of course. For there were decorations +here and there—a delicate piece of crochet work on a dresser; a sewing +basket on a stand; a pincushion, a pair of shears; some gaily +ornamented pictures on the walls, and—peering behind the dresser—he +saw a pair of lady's riding-boots. +</P> + +<P> +He strode to a closet door and threw it open, revealing, hanging +innocently on their hooks, a miscellaneous array of skirts, blouses, +and dresses. +</P> + +<P> +Mary had surrendered her room to him. Feeling guilty again, and rather +conscience-stricken, as though he were committing some sacrilegious +action, he went to the dresser and began to search among the effects in +the drawers. +</P> + +<P> +They were filled with articles of wearing apparel, delicately fringed +things that delight the feminine heart, and keepsakes of all +descriptions. Sanderson handled them carefully, but his search was not +the less thorough on that account. +</P> + +<P> +And at last, in one of the upper drawers of the dresser, he came upon a +packet of letters. +</P> + +<P> +Again his conscience pricked him, but the stern urge of necessity drove +him on until he discovered an envelope addressed to the elder +Bransford, in his own handwriting, and close to it a letter from Will +Bransford to Mary Bransford. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson looked long at the Bransford letter, considering the +situation. He was tempted to destroy that, too, but he reflected, +permitting a sentimental thought to deter him. +</P> + +<P> +For Mary undoubtedly treasured that letter, and when the day came that +he should tell her the truth, the letter would be the only link that +would connect her with the memory of her brother. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson could not destroy it. He had already offended Mary Bransford +more than he had a right to, and to destroy her brother's letter would +be positively heinous. +</P> + +<P> +Besides, unknown to him, there might be more letters about with Will +Bransford's signature on them, and it might be well to preserve this +particular letter in case he should be called upon to forge Will +Bransford's signature. +</P> + +<P> +So he retied the letters in the packet and restored the packet to its +place, retaining his own letter to Bransford. Smiling grimly now, he +again sought the chair near the window, lit a match, applied the blaze +to the letter, and watched the paper burn until nothing remained of it +but a crinkly ash. Then he smoked a cigarette and got into bed, +feeling more secure. +</P> + +<P> +Determined not to submit to any more of Mary's caresses, and feeling +infinitely small and mean over the realization that he had already +permitted her to carry her affection too far, he frowned at her when he +went into the kitchen after washing the next morning, gruffly replying +when she wished him a cheery, "Good morning," and grasping her arms +when she attempted to kiss him. +</P> + +<P> +He blushed, though, when her eyes reproached him. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't used to bein' mushed over," he told her. "We'll get along a +heap better if you cut out the kissin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Will!" she said, her lips trembling. +</P> + +<P> +She set them though, instantly, and went about her duties, leaving +Sanderson to stand in the center of the room feeling like a brute. +</P> + +<P> +They breakfasted in silence—almost. Sanderson saw her watching +him—covert glances that held not a little wonder and disappointment. +And then, when the meal was nearly finished, she looked at him with a +taunting half-smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you sleep good, Will?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson looked fairly at her. That "Will" was already an irritation +to him, for it continually reminded him of the despicable part he was +playing. He knew what he was going to say would hurt her, but he was +determined to erect between them a barrier that would prevent a +repetition of any demonstrations of affection of the brother and sister +variety. +</P> + +<P> +He didn't want to let her continue to show affection for him when he +knew that, if she knew who he really was, she would feel more tike +murdering him. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Mary," he said, coldly, "I've never cared a heap for the +name Bransford. That's why I changed my name to Sanderson. I never +liked to be called 'Will.' Hereafter I want you to call me +Sanderson—Deal Sanderson. Then mebbe I'll feel more like myself." +</P> + +<P> +She did not answer, but her lips straightened and she sat very rigid. +It was plain to him that she was very much disappointed in him, and +that in her mind was the contrast between her brother of today and her +brother of yesterday. +</P> + +<P> +She got up after a time, holding her head high, and left the room, +saying as she went out: +</P> + +<P> +"Very well; your wishes shall be respected. But it seems to me that +the name Bransford is one be proud of!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson grinned into his plate. He felt more decent now than he had +felt since arriving at the Double A. If he could continue to prevent +her from showing any affection for him—visible, at least—he would +feel that the deception he was practising was less criminal. And when +he went away, after settling the differences between Mary Bransford and +Dale, he would have less to reproach himself with. +</P> + +<P> +He did not see Mary again that morning. Leaving the dining-room, he +went outside, finding Barney Owen in the bunkhouse in the company of +several other Double A men. +</P> + +<P> +Owen introduced him to the other men—who had ridden in to the +ranchhouse the previous night, and were getting ready to follow the +outfit wagon down the river into the basin to where the Double A herd +was grazing. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson watched the men ride away, then he turned to Owen. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm ridin' to Las Vegas, to get a look at the will, an' see what the +records have got to say about the title to the Double A. Want to go?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," the little man grinned. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PLOTTERS +</H3> + +<P> +Riding down the gentle slope of the basin, Alva Dale maintained a +sullen silence. He rode far in advance of the two men who accompanied +him, not listening to their voices, which occasionally reached him, not +seeming to be aware of their presence. +</P> + +<P> +Defeat had always brought bitterness to Dale; his eyes were glowing +with a futile rage as he led his men homeward. +</P> + +<P> +Dale's scheme to dispose of Ben Nyland had been carefully planned and +deftly carried out. He had meant to hang Nyland, take possession of +his property, and force Peggy to accept whatever conditions he cared to +impose upon her. +</P> + +<P> +The unlooked-for appearance of Mary Bransford's brother had disturbed +his plans. As a matter of fact, the coming of Bill Bransford would +make it necessary for Dale to make entirely new plans. +</P> + +<P> +Dale was puzzled. During the elder Bransford's last days, and for a +year or more preceding the day of Bransford's death, Dale had professed +friendship for him. The pretense of friendship had resulted profitably +for Dale, for it had enabled him to establish an intimacy with +Bransford which had made it possible for Dale to learn much of +Bransford's personal affairs. +</P> + +<P> +For instance, Dale had discovered that there was in Las Vegas no record +of Mary Bransford's birth, and though Bransford had assured him that +Mary was his child, the knowledge had served to provide Dale with a +weapon which he might have used to advantage—had not Bill Bransford +returned in time to defeat him. +</P> + +<P> +Dale had heard the story of the trouble between Bransford and his son, +Will; it was the old tale of father and son not agreeing, and of the +son leaving home, aggrieved. +</P> + +<P> +Dale had made it his business to inquire often about the son, and when +one day Bransford told him he had received a letter from his boy, Dale +betrayed such interest that the elder Bransford had permitted him to +read the letter. +</P> + +<P> +That had been about a year before Mary had written the letter that +Sanderson had found in one of Will Bransford's pockets. The letter +told of the writer's longing to return home. The elder Bransford +declared that his heart had not softened toward the boy and that he +would not answer him. Leaving Dale, Bransford had dropped the letter, +and Dale had picked it up. +</P> + +<P> +Dale still had the letter, and because of his pretended friendship for +the father he had been able to insinuate himself into Mary's good +graces. He had advised Mary to write to her brother, and he had seen +the letter from the younger Bransford in which the latter had told his +sister that he would return. +</P> + +<P> +After reading Will Bransford's letter, and learning from Mary that she +was sending a thousand dollars to her brother, Dale wrote to a friend +in Tucson. Dale's letter accompanied Mary's to the latter town, and +the evil-visaged fellow who received it grinned widely in explaining +the circumstance to two of his friends. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll git him, sure as shootin'," he said. "A thousand dollars ain't +a hell of a lot—but I've put men out of business for less!" +</P> + +<P> +Dale knew the man to whom he had written, and he had received a reply, +telling him that the job would be done. And that was why, when +Sanderson had calmly announced that he was Will Bransford, Dale had +been unwilling to believe his statement. +</P> + +<P> +Dale did not believe, now, that the man who had interfered to save +Nyland was Will Bransford. Dale rode slowly homeward, scowling, +inwardly fuming with rage, but unable to form any decided plan of +action. +</P> + +<P> +It was several miles to the Bar D, Dale's ranch, and when he arrived +there he was in an ugly mood. He curtly dismissed the two men who had +accompanied him and went into the house. Opening the door of the room +he used as an office, he saw a medium-sized man of fifty sitting in a +big desk chair, smoking a cigar. +</P> + +<P> +The man smiled at Dale's surprise, but did not offer to get up, merely +extending his right hand, which Dale grasped and shook heartily. +</P> + +<P> +"Dave Silverthorn, or I'm a ghost!" ejaculated Dale, grinning. "How in +thunder did you get here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rode," smiled the other, showing a set of white, flashing teeth. "I +saw you pass the window. You looked rather glum, and couldn't see my +horse, I suppose. Something gone wrong?" +</P> + +<P> +"Everything," grunted Dale; "that confounded young Bransford has showed +up!" +</P> + +<P> +The smile left the other's face. His eyes glowed and the corners of +his mouth took on a cruel droop. +</P> + +<P> +"He has, eh?" he said, slowly. His voice was expressionless. "So that +lead has petered out." +</P> + +<P> +He puffed slowly at his cigar, studying Dale's face, while the latter +related what had occurred. +</P> + +<P> +"So Nyland is still at large, eh?" he remarked, when Dale had finished. +"Why not set a gunman on him?" +</P> + +<P> +Dale scowled. "There ain't a gunman in this section that would take a +chance on Nyland—he's lightning!" Dale cursed. "Besides, there ain't +no use in goin' after Nyland's place unless we can get the Double A." +</P> + +<P> +"Then there wasn't any use of going after it yesterday, or today, as +you did," said the other. "Unless," he added, looking intently at +Dale, "the sister has been on your mind some." +</P> + +<P> +Dale reddened. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mind admittin' she is," he grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"Look out, Dale," warned the other; "there's danger there. Many a big +project has been ruined by men dragging a woman into it. You have no +right to jeopardize this thing with a love affair. Peggy Nyland is +desirable to a man of your intense passion, I suppose; but this project +is bigger than any woman's love!" +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" sneered Dale. "I can 'tend to her without losin' sight of the +main object." +</P> + +<P> +"All right, then," laughed the other. "The success of this thing +depends largely on you. We can't do a thing with the Legislature; +these sagebrush fools are adamant on the question of water-rights, They +won't restrict an owner's right and title to possession of all the +water on his land. +</P> + +<P> +"And he can dam the stream as much as he pleases, providing he don't +cut down the supply that normally flows to his neighbors; and the gorge +doesn't supply any water to the basin, so that Bransford would be +justified in directing the gorge stream. +</P> + +<P> +"In other words, old Bransford's title to the land that the gorge runs +through is unassailable. There is only one way to get at him, and that +is in some way to get possession of the title." +</P> + +<P> +"That's tied up tighter than blazes," said Dale. "Record and all are +clear. An' there ain't no judge we can get at. But if young Bransford +hadn't come——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," smiled Silverthorn. "It's too bad. We had a man, ready to come +on at the word, to impersonate young Bransford. He would have stayed +here long enough to get a clear title to the Double A, and then he +would have turned it over to us for a consideration. It rather looks +as though we are stumped, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Dale frowned. Then he got up, went to a drawer in the desk before +which Silverthorn sat, and drew out a letter—the letter young +Bransford had written to his father about a year before. +</P> + +<P> +"We've still got a chance," he told Silverthorn. And then he told the +latter of his suspicions about Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Silverthorn's eyes gleamed. "That's possible," he said, "but how are +you going to prove it?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's a way," returned Dale. He went to the door, and shouted the +names of two men, standing in the doorway until they came—the two men +who had accompanied him that morning. He spoke to them, briefly: +</P> + +<P> +"You're ridin' straight to Tucson as fast as your cayuses can take you. +You ought to make it in a week. I'll give you that long. Find Gary +Miller. Tell him I sent you, an' find out what he knows about young +Bill Bransford. Then hit the breeze back. If it takes you more than +two weeks I'll knock your damned heads off!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LITTLE MAN TALKS +</H3> + +<P> +Mary Bransford spent the first day of Sanderson's absence in the +isolation of the parlor, with the shades drawn, crying. Her brother +had bitterly disappointed her. +</P> + +<P> +He had sent word by one of the men that he was going to Las Vegas to +look up the title to the property. She thought he might at least have +brought her the message personally. +</P> + +<P> +Mary told herself that she had not been unduly demonstrative, as +Sanderson had intimated by his actions. She had merely been glad to +see him, as any sister would be glad to see a brother whom she had not +seen for many years; and she assured herself that if he loved her as +she loved him he would not have resented her display of affection. +</P> + +<P> +That affection, though, troubled Mary. To be sure, she had never had a +brother about, to fuss over, and therefore she could not tell just how +deeply she should be expected to love the one whom Providence had given +her; but she was certain that she did not love him too much. +</P> + +<P> +For Sanderson was worthy of the full measure of any sister's love. +Big, handsome, vigorous, with a way about him that any woman must +admire, Mary felt he deserved all the affection she could bestow. +</P> + +<P> +Her wonder and perplexity came over a contemplation of the quality of +that love. Was it right that she should thrill so delightfully +whenever he came near her? And was it entirely proper for her to feel +that queer tingle of delight over the strangeness of it all? +</P> + +<P> +And did that strangeness result from the fact that she had not seen him +for years; or was there some truth in Dale's assertion that she was +merely an adopted daughter, and her love for Sanderson not merely the +love of a sister for a brother, but the love of a woman for a man? +</P> + +<P> +Had Sanderson taken that view of it? She thought he had; for she had +told him about Dale's assertion, and his constraint had begun shortly +after. +</P> + +<P> +She did not blame him a great deal—after she had thought it over. He +had done the manly thing, she divined, in not taking advantage of the +situation, and she believed she loved him more than ever because of his +attitude. But she felt that she had lost something, and the second day +had gone before she succeeded in resigning herself to the new state of +affairs. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing happened. Dale did not come near the ranchhouse. Mary rode +over to the Nyland ranch and had a long talk with Peggy, and Peggy told +her that she had not seen Dale. +</P> + +<P> +Ben Nyland had driven the Double A cattle over to their own range, and +so far as he was concerned the incident with Dale was closed. But, +Peggy told Mary, Ben was bitterly resentful, and had sworn that if Dale +bothered Peggy any more he would kill him. +</P> + +<P> +Mary, however, was not greatly interested in Peggy's recital. She sat +on a chair in the kitchen of the Nyland cabin, listening to Peggy, but +making no replies. And it was not until she was ready to go that Mary +revealed the real reason for her visit—and then she did not reveal it +to Peggy, but to her own heart. +</P> + +<P> +For she reddened when she asked the question: "I wonder if you feel +about Ben as I feel about my brother—that when you kiss him you are +kissing a strange man?" +</P> + +<P> +Peggy laughed. "You would feel that way, of course. For your brother +is almost a stranger to you." +</P> + +<P> +"And do you kiss Ben often?" asked Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"Ben doesn't like it," smiled Peggy. "He is like most other men—he +likes to kiss the daughters of other men, but he gets sulky and balky +when I want to kiss him. So I don't try very often. Your brother is a +fine, big fellow, but you will find before you have been around him +very long that he wants to do his kissing away from home." +</P> + +<P> +Mary laughed, and blushed again. "I have already discovered that," she +said. "But, Peggy," she added seriously, "I love him so much that +believe I should be jealous if I thought he kissed another girl!" +</P> + +<P> +Mary rode homeward, rather comforted over her visit. And during the +remaining days of Sanderson's absence she succeeded in convincing +herself that Sanderson's attitude toward her was the usual attitude of +brothers toward sisters, and that she had nothing of which to complain. +</P> + +<P> +On the seventh day Sanderson and Owen returned. +</P> + +<P> +Mary saw them ride in and she ran to the door and waved a hand to them. +Owen flourished his hat at her, but Sanderson only grinned. +</P> + +<P> +When Sanderson came in Mary did not attempt to kiss him, but she wanted +to when he seized her hand and squeezed it warmly. For it seemed to +her that he was troubled over something. +</P> + +<P> +She watched him narrowly for signs that would tell her of the nature of +the trouble, but when he went to bed she had learned nothing. +</P> + +<P> +At breakfast the next morning she asked him what he had discovered at +Las Vegas. He looked straight at her. +</P> + +<P> +"There is no record of your birth," he said. +</P> + +<P> +She paled. "Then Dale has grounds for his suspicion," she said in a +weak voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Because your birth was not recorded is no sign you are not a +Bransford," he said. "I'll tell you this," he added gruffly: "as a +sister you suit me from the ground up; an' I'll stick to you until hell +freezes over!" +</P> + +<P> +Not until that instant did she realize that she had entertained a fear +that Sanderson would believe as Dale believed, and in an excess of joy +over the discovery that he did believe in her she got up, ran around +the table, seized Sanderson by the shoulders and laid her cheek against +his. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a dear," she said, "and I don't care whether you like it or +not, I am going to kiss you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Just once," he said, blushing. +</P> + +<P> +She kissed him, and then leaned back, looking at him reprovingly. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't returned a kiss I have given you!" she said. "And I want +you to!" +</P> + +<P> +"All right," he agreed, and this time the warmth of his response made +her draw a long, deep breath. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson made his escape as soon as he decently could, and walked to a +corner of the pasture fence where he stood, one arm resting on the top +rail, his gaze on the basin. +</P> + +<P> +At the court in Las Vegas he had discovered that Bransford had made a +will, bequeathing the ranch to his son. The document had been recorded +only a few months before Bransford died, showing that he had at last +forgiven the boy. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson had intended to take possession of the ranch, in an effort to +forestall any scheme Dale might have, and while in Las Vegas he had +applied to the court for permission to have the title transferred. And +then he had been told it would be necessary for him to file an +affidavit and proof establishing his identity. +</P> + +<P> +With Barney Owen looking on Sanderson was compelled to defer signing +the affidavit, for Sanderson remembered the letter from young +Bransford, bearing the younger Bransford's signature. The letter was +still in the dresser drawer in his room, and he would have to have it +beside him while he signed Bransford's name to the affidavit in order +to imitate Bransford's handwriting successfully. Therefore he asked +permission to take the affidavit home. +</P> + +<P> +Pocketing the paper, after receiving the necessary permission, +Sanderson caught Owen looking at him with a smile. He scowled at the +little man. +</P> + +<P> +"What's eatin' you?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Curiosity," said the other. "Don't tell me you're too bashful to sign +your name in public." +</P> + +<P> +They were mounting their horses when the little man spoke, and +Sanderson grinned coldly at him. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a whole lot longer on talk than I like any of my friends to +be," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll cut out gassing promiscuous," grinned the latter. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was troubled over the situation. To successfully keep Dale +from attacking his title to the ranch he must sign the affidavit and +return it to the court. He must imitate Will Bransford's signature to +prevent Mary Bransford from suspecting the deception—for at any time +she might decide to go to Las Vegas to look over the records there. +</P> + +<P> +More, he must practice writing Bransford's signature until he could +imitate it without having to look at the original. +</P> + +<P> +Determined to go to work at the deception instantly, Sanderson returned +to the ranchhouse, slipped into his room and locked the door, opened +the drawer and took out the package of letters. +</P> + +<P> +The Bransford letter was missing! Half a dozen times he thumbed the +letters in the packages over before he would admit that the one for +which he was seeking was not there. +</P> + +<P> +He stood for a time looking at the package of letters, bitterly +accusing himself. It was his own fault if the whole structure of +deception tumbled about his ears, for he should have taken the letter +when he had had an opportunity. +</P> + +<P> +Mary Bransford had it, of course. The other letters, he supposed, she +cared less for than the one written by her brother. +</P> + +<P> +For the twentieth time since his arrival at the ranch, Sanderson had an +impulse to ride away and leave Mary Bransford to fight the thing out +herself. But, as before, he fought down the impulse. +</P> + +<P> +This time—so imbued was he with determination to heap confusion upon +Alva Dale's head—he stood in the center of the room, grinning +saturninely, fully resolved that if it must be he would make a complete +confession to the girl and stay at the Double A to fight Dale no matter +what Mary thought of him. +</P> + +<P> +He might have gone to Mary, to ask her what had become of the letter. +He could have invented some pretext. But he would not; he would not +have her think he had been examining her letters. One thing he could +do without confessing that he had been prying—and he did it. +</P> + +<P> +At dinner he remarked casually to Mary: +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon you don't think enough of my letters put them away as +keepsakes?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sanderson's or Bransford's?" she returned, looking at him with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Both," he grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," she said, "I did keep both. But, as I told you before, I had +the Sanderson letter somewhere. I have been looking for it, but have +not been able to find it." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson grinned faintly and wondered what she would say if she knew +what care he had taken to burn the Sanderson letter. +</P> + +<P> +"The letter you wrote as yourself—the Bransford letter—I have. It +was among a lot of others in the drawer of the dresser in your room. I +was looking them over while you were gone, and I took it." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson had a hard time to keep the eagerness out of his voice, but +he did so: +</P> + +<P> +"You got it handy?" +</P> + +<P> +She looked straight at him. "That is the oddest thing," she said +seriously. "I took it from there to keep it safe, and I have mislaid +it again, for I can't find it anywhere." +</P> + +<P> +There was no guile in her eyes—Sanderson was certain of that. And he +hoped the letter would stay mislaid. He grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I was only curious," he said. "Don't bother to look for it." +</P> + +<P> +He felt better when he went out of the house and walked toward the +corral fence. He felt more secure and capable. Beginning with the +following day, he meant to take charge of the ranch and run it as he +knew it should be run. +</P> + +<P> +He had not been at the Double A long, but he had seen signs of +shiftlessness here and there. He had no doubt that since Bransford's +death the men had taken advantage of the absence of authority to relax, +and the ranch had suffered. He would soon bring them back to a state +of efficiency. +</P> + +<P> +He heard a step behind him, and looking over his shoulder he saw the +little man approaching. +</P> + +<P> +The little man joined Sanderson, not speaking as he climbed the fence +at a point near by and sat on the top rail, idly swinging his legs. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson had conceived a liking for Owen. There was something about +the little man that invited it. He was little, and manly despite his +bodily defects. But there was a suggestion of effeminacy mingling with +the manliness of him that aroused the protective instinct in Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +In a big man the suggestion of effeminacy would have been disgusting, +and Sanderson's first action as owner of the ranch would have been to +discharge such a man instantly. But in Sanderson's heart had come a +spirit of tolerance toward the little man, for he felt that the +effeminacy had resulted from his afflictions. +</P> + +<P> +He was a querulous semi-invalid, trying bravely to imitate his vigorous +and healthy friends. +</P> + +<P> +"Thinking it over?" he queried, looking down at Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Thinkin' what over?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, just things," grinned the little man. "For one thing, I suppose +you are trying to decide why you didn't sign your name—over in Las +Vegas." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson grinned mildly, but did not answer. He felt more at ease +now, and the little man's impertinences did not bother him so much as +formerly. He looked up, however, startled, when Owen said slowly: +</P> + +<P> +"Do you want me to tell you why you didn't sign Will Bransford's name +to the affidavit?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's eyes did not waver as they met Owen's. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me," he said evenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Because you are not Will Bransford," said the little man. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson did not move; nor did he remove his gaze from the face of the +little man. He was not conscious of any emotion whatever. For now +that he had determined to stay at the Double A no matter what happened, +discovery did not alarm him. He grinned at the little man, +deliberately, with a taunting smile that the other could not fail to +understand. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a wise guy, eh?" he said. "Well, spring it. I'm anxious to +know how you got next to me." +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't sore, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not, none." +</P> + +<P> +"I was hoping you wouldn't be," eagerly said the little man, "for I +don't want you to hit the breeze just now. I know you are not Will +Bransford because I know Bransford intimately. I was his chum for +several years. He could drink as much as I. He was lazy and +shiftless, but I liked him. We were together in Tucson—and in other +places in Arizona. Texas, too. We never amounted to much. Do you +need to know any more? I can tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me what?" +</P> + +<P> +"More," grinned the other man, "about yourself. You are +Sanderson—Deal Sanderson—nicknamed Square Deal Sanderson. I saw you +one day in Tombstone; you were pointed out to me, and the minute I laid +my eyes on you the day Dale tried to hang Nyland, I knew you." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson smiled. "Why didn't you tell Mary?" +</P> + +<P> +The little man's face grew grave. "Because I didn't want to queer your +game. You saved Nyland—an innocent man. Knowing your reputation for +fairness, I was convinced that you didn't come here to deceive anybody." +</P> + +<P> +"But I did deceive somebody," said Sanderson. "Not you, accordin' to +what you've been tellin' me, but Mary Bransford. She thinks I am her +brother, an' I've let her go on thinkin' it." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" asked the little man. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson gravely appraised the other. "There ain't no use of holdin' +out anything on you," he said. His lips straightened and his eyes +bored into the little man's. There was a light in his own that made +the little man stiffen. And Sanderson's voice was cold and earnest. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm puttin' you wise to why I've not told her," he went on. "But if +you ever open your yap far enough to whisper a word of it to her I'm +wringin' your neck, <I>pronto</I>! That goes!" +</P> + +<P> +He told Owen the story from the beginning—about the Drifter, his +letter to the elder Bransford, how he had killed the two men who had +murdered Will Bransford, and how, on the impulse of the moment, he had +impersonated Mary's brother. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you figuring to do now?" questioned the little man when +Sanderson finished. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm tellin' her right now," declared Sanderson. "She'll salivate me, +most likely, for me lettin' her kiss me an' fuss over me. But I ain't +carin' a heap. I ain't never been no hand at deceivin' no one—I ain't +foxy enough. There's been times since I've been here when I've been +scared to open my mouth for fear my damned heart would jump out. I +reckon she'll just naturally kill me when she finds it out, but I don't +seem to care a heap whether she does or not." +</P> + +<P> +The little man narrowed his eyes at Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"You're deeply in love with her, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson flushed; then his gaze grew steady and cold. "Up till now +you've minded your own business," he said. "If you'll keep on mindin' +it, we'll——" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," grinned Owen. "You couldn't help loving her—I love her, +too. You say you're going to tell her. Don't do it. Why should you? +Don't you see that if you told her that her brother had been murdered +she'd never get over it? She's that kind. And you know what Dale's +scheme was, don't you? Has she told you?" At Sanderson's nod, Owen +went on: +</P> + +<P> +"If you were to let it be known that you are not Will Bransford, Dale +would get the property as sure as shooting. I know his plan. I +overheard him and a man named Dave Silverthorn talking it over one +night when I was prowling around Dale's house. The window of Dale's +office was wide open, and I was crouching outside. +</P> + +<P> +"They've got a man ready to come on here to impersonate Bransford. +They would prove his claim and after he was established he would sell +out to them. They have forged papers showing that Mary is an adopted +daughter—though not legally. Don't you see that if you don't go on +letting everybody think you are Bransford, Mary will lose the ranch?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson shook his head. "I'd be gettin' deeper an' deeper into it +all the time—in love an' in trouble. An' when she'd find out how I'd +fooled her all the time she'd hate me." +</P> + +<P> +"Not if you save the ranch for her," argued the little man. "She'd +feel badly about her brother, maybe, but she'd forgive you if you +stayed and beat Dale at his own game." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson did not answer. The little man climbed down from the fence +and moved close to him, talking earnestly, and at last Sanderson +grinned down at him. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm doing it," he said. "I'll stay. I reckon I was figurin' on it +all the time." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PLAIN TALK +</H3> + +<P> +Barney Owen had told Sanderson of his hatred for Alva Dale, but he had +not told Sanderson many other things. He had not told the true story +of how he came to be employed at the Double A—how Mary had come upon +him one day at a shallow crossing of the river, far down in the basin. +</P> + +<P> +Owen was flat on his stomach at the edge of the water, scooping it up +with eager handfuls to quench a thirst that had endured for days. He +had been so weak that he could not stand when she found him, and in +some way she got him on his horse and brought him to the ranchhouse, +there to nurse him until he recovered his strength. +</P> + +<P> +It had been while she was caring for him that she had told him about +her fear of Dale, and thereafter—as soon as he was able to ride +again—Owen took it upon himself to watch Dale. +</P> + +<P> +In spite of his exceeding slenderness, Owen seemed to possess the +endurance and stamina of a larger and more physically perfect man. For +though he was always seen about the ranchhouse during the day—helping +at odd jobs and appearing to be busy nearly all the time—each +succeeding night found him stealthily mounting his horse to ride to the +Bar D, there to watch Dale's movements. +</P> + +<P> +He had not been at the Bar D since the night before the day on which he +had left with Sanderson to go to Las Vegas, but on the second night +following his return—soon after dark—he went to the stable, threw +saddle and bridle on his horse, and vanished into the shadows of the +basin. +</P> + +<P> +Later, moving carefully, he appeared at the edge of a tree clump near +the Bar D corral. He saw a light in one of the windows of the +house—Dale's office—and he left his horse in the shadows and stole +forward. There were two men in the office with Dale. Owen saw them +and heard their voices as he crept to a point under the window in the +dense blackness of the night. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The men Dale had sent to Tucson had not required the full two weeks for +the trip; they had made it in ten days, and their faces, as they sat +before Dale in the office, showed the effects of their haste. Yet they +grinned at Dale as they talked, glowing with pride over their +achievement, but the word they brought to Dale did not please him, and +he sat glaring at them until they finished. +</P> + +<P> +"Gary Miller ain't been heard of for a month, eh?" he said. "You say +you heard he started this way? Then where in hell is he?" +</P> + +<P> +Neither of the men could answer that question and Dale dismissed them. +Then he walked to a door, opened it, and called to someone in another +room. Dave Silverthorn entered the office, and for more than an hour +the two talked, their conversation being punctuated with futile queries +and profanity. +</P> + +<P> +At ten o'clock the next morning Dale appeared at the Double A +ranchhouse. Apparently he was willing to forgive and forget, for he +grinned at Owen, who was watching him from the door of the bunkhouse, +and he politely doffed his hat to Mary Bransford, who met him at the +door of the ranchhouse. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Miss Mary," he said, "how does it feel to have a brother again?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's rather satisfying, Dale," smiled the girl. "Won't you get off +your horse?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl's lips were stiff with dread anticipation and dislike. Dale's +manner did not mislead her; his forced geniality, his gruff heartiness, +his huge smile, were all insincere, masking evil. He seemed to her +like a big, tawny, grinning beast, and her heart thumped with +trepidation as she looked at him. +</P> + +<P> +"How's Nyland?" he asked, smiling hugely. "That was a narrow +squeak—now, wasn't it? For I found that Ben Nyland didn't brand them +cattle at all—it was another man, living down the basin. That nester +near Colby's. He done it. But he sloped before we could get a rope on +him. Had a grudge against Nyland, I reckon. Sorry it happened." +</P> + +<P> +Thus he attempted to smooth the matter over. But he saw that Mary did +not believe him, and his grin grew broader. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's brother Will this mornin', Mary?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson appeared in the doorway behind Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"You could see him if you was half lookin'," he said slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"So I could," guffawed Dale. "But if there's a pretty girl around——" +</P> + +<P> +"You come here on business, Dale?" interrupted Sanderson. "Because if +you did," he went on before Dale could answer, "I'd be glad to get it +over." +</P> + +<P> +"Meanin' that you don't want me to be hangin' around here no longer +than is necessary, eh?" said Dale. +</P> + +<P> +"You've said a heap," drawled Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it won't take a long time," Dale returned. "It's just this. +I've got word from Las Vegas that you've swore to an affidavit sayin' +that you're Will Bransford. That's all right—I ain't got nothin' to +say about that. But there's a law about brands. +</P> + +<P> +"Your dad registered his brand—the Double A. But that don't let you +out. Accordin' to the law you've got to do your registerin' same as +though the brand had never been registered before. Bein' the only law +around here—me bein' a deputy sheriff—I've got to look out for that +end of it. +</P> + +<P> +"An' so, if you'll just sign this here blank, with your name and +address, specifyin' your brand, why, we'll call it all settled." +</P> + +<P> +And he held out a legal-looking paper toward Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's lips straightened, for as his eyes met Dale's he saw the +latter's glint with a cold cunning. For an instant Sanderson +meditated, refusing to accept the paper, divining that Dale was +concealing his real purpose; but glancing sidewise he caught a swift +wink from Owen, who had drawn near and was standing beside a porch +column. And he saw Owen distinctly jerk his head toward the house. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson stepped forward and took the paper from Dale's hand. Then he +abruptly strode toward the house, telling Dale to wait. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson halted in the middle of the sitting-room as Owen entered the +room through, a rear door. Barney Owen was grinning. +</P> + +<P> +"Wants your signature, does he?" said Owen. He whispered rapidly to +Sanderson, and the latter's face grew pale and grim as he listened. +When Owen had finished he grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"Now we'll give him Will Bransford's signature—just as he used to +write it. I've seen it more times than any other man ever saw it, and +I can duplicate it to a flourish. Give me the paper!" +</P> + +<P> +He sat down at a table, where there was a pen and a bottle of ink and +wrote boldly: "Will Bransford." With a grin he passed the paper back. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson stared, then a smile wreathed his lips, for the signature was +seemingly a duplicate of that which had been written at the bottom of +the letter Will Bransford had written to his father. +</P> + +<P> +On his way to return the paper to Dale, Sanderson paused to listen +again to Owen, who whispered to him. Sanderson stiffened, looked hard +at Owen, and then grinned with straight lips. In less than no time he +was out of the house and confronting Dale. +</P> + +<P> +He watched while the latter looked at the signature; he saw the +expression of disappointment that swept over Dale's face. Then +Sanderson spoke coldly: +</P> + +<P> +"Right and proper, eh, Dale? Now I'll trouble you for that letter that +my dad dropped about a year ago—the one you picked up. It was a +letter from me, an' dad had let you read it. Fork it over, or I'll +bore you an' take it from your clothes!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE ULTIMATUM +</H3> + +<P> +Dale's face whitened; for a moment he sat rigid, staring, his eyes +boring into Sanderson's. Then he reached into a pocket, drew out a +dirty envelope, and threw it at Sanderson's feet. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a damned smart boy, ain't you, Bransford?" he sneered. "But +I'm out to get you—remember that!" +</P> + +<P> +"And you remember this, Dale!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was at the head of the horse Dale rode. His eyes were +blazing with suppressed fury, brought on by the other's threat. +"There's goin' to be a new deal in the basin. From now on I'm runnin' +things—an' they're runnin' square! I ain't got any use for any law +but this!" He tapped the butt of his six-shooter significantly. "An' +if you go to gettin' mixed up with the Double A or the Nyland ranch +you'll get it—plenty!" +</P> + +<P> +Dale grinned, hideously. Then he kicked his horse in the ribs and rode +away. +</P> + +<P> +Mary Bransford had not moved from her position on the porch. Sanderson +watched Dale ride away, then he smiled at Mary and entered the house. +Mary followed him. She saw Owen standing in the sitting-room, and her +face showed her surprise. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson explained. "Owen an' me framed up on Dale," he said. "You +saw it work." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll be careful, won't you, Will?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Deal," smilingly insisted Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Deal," she repeated, giving him a look that made him blush. Then she +went into one of the other rooms, and Sanderson and Owen went outside. +At the corner of the stable Sanderson halted and faced Owen. +</P> + +<P> +"You've got some explainin' to do," he said. "How did you know Dale +had a letter from Will Bransford to his father; an' how did you know +that Dale wanted me to write my name on that brand-registering blank so +he could compare it with Will Bransford's name on the letter?" +</P> + +<P> +"Will Bransford told me he wrote such a letter; he showed me a letter +from his dad which told how he had dropped Will's letter and how Dale +had picked it up. Dale thought old Bransford hadn't seen him pick up +the letter—but Bransford did see him. And last night I was snooping +around over at the Bar D and I overheard Dale and Silverthorn cooking +up this deal." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson grinned with relief. "Well," he said, "that name-signing +deal sure had me considerable fussed up." He told Owen of his mental +torture following the discovery of the letter that had disappeared from +the dresser drawer. "We've got to run together from now on," he told +Owen. "I'll be Bransford an' you'll be Bransford's name. Mebbe +between us we'll make a whole man." +</P> + +<P> +Over at the Bar D, Dale was scowling at Silverthorn. +</P> + +<P> +"He ain't Will Bransford," Dale declared. "He signed his name all O.K. +an' regular, just the same as it was on the letter. But just the same +he ain't a Bransford. There ain't no Bransford ever had an eye in him +like he's got. He's a damned iceberg for nerve, an' there's more fight +in him than there is in a bunch of wildcats—if you get him started!" +</P> + +<P> +"Just the same," smiled Silverthorn, silkily, "we'll get the Double A. +Look here—" And the two bent their heads together over Dale's desk. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DALE MOVES +</H3> + +<P> +A passionate hatred of Alva Dale was slowly gripping Sanderson. It had +been aroused on that first day of his meeting with the man, when he had +seen Dale standing in front of the stable, bullying Mary Bransford and +Peggy Nyland and her brother. At that time, however, the emotion +Sanderson felt had been merely dislike—as Sanderson had always +disliked men who attempted to bully others. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's hatred of Dale was beginning to dominate him; it was +overwhelming all other emotions. It dulled his sense of guilt for the +part he was playing in deceiving Mary Bransford; it made him feel in a +measure justified in continuing to deceive her. +</P> + +<P> +For he divined that without his help Mary would lose the Double A. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson had always loved a fight, and the prospect of bringing defeat +and confusion upon Dale was one that made his pulses leap with delight. +</P> + +<P> +He got up on the morning following Dale's visit, tingling with +eagerness. And yet there was no sign of emotion in his face when he +sat with Mary Bransford at breakfast, and he did not even look at her +when he left the house, mounted his horse, and rode up the gorge that +split the butte at the southern end of the range. +</P> + +<P> +All morning he prowled over the table-land, paying a great deal of +attention to the depth of the gorge, estimating its capacity for +holding water, scanning the far reaches of the big basin carefully, and +noting the location of the buildings dotting it. +</P> + +<P> +Shortly after noon he rode back to the house and came upon Mary in the +kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +"I've put off askin' until now," he said while eating the food that +Mary placed before him. "How much money did dad leave?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not much," she said. "He was never very prosperous. It took a great +deal to send me to school, and the thousand I sent you I saved myself +out of the allowance he gave me. I think there are three thousand +dollars to father's credit at the bank in Okar." +</P> + +<P> +"Where's Okar?" +</P> + +<P> +She looked quickly at him. "Don't you remember Okar? That little town +just beyond the mouth of the basin? Why, you've been there a good many +times, Will, on errands for father. There wasn't much to Okar when you +were here—just a few shanties and a store. Surely you remember!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson flushed. "I reckon I do remember, now that you speak of it," +he lied. "But I don't think Okar has grown much." +</P> + +<P> +"Okar has grown to be an important town—for this locality," Mary +smiled. "You see, the railroad has made it grow. It is now quite +large, and has a bank and a dozen or more stores. It is a depot for +supplies for a big section, and the railroad company has built large +corrals there. A man named Silverthorn—and Alva Dale—are the rulers +of Okar, now." +</P> + +<P> +"Who is Silverthorn?" +</P> + +<P> +"He is connected with the railroad company—a promoter, or something of +that character. He is trying to make a boom town of Okar. He has +bought a great deal of land in the basin." +</P> + +<P> +"You know what he wants the land for?" Sanderson smiled at her. +</P> + +<P> +"For speculation purposes, I suppose. If he could get water——" +</P> + +<P> +"You've figured it out," said Sanderson. "But he won't get water. The +water belongs to the Double A—to me an' to you. An' we're goin' to +sell it ourselves." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean—" began Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"That we're going to build an irrigation dam—with all the fixin's. +You and me." +</P> + +<P> +The girl sat erect, her eyes luminous and eager. "Do you think we can +do it?" she whispered. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think you could trust me with the three thousand you said dad +left? An' would you be willin' to mortgage the Double A—if we needed +more money?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," she declared, breathlessly, "the Double A is yours—to do with +as you see fit. If you want to try—and you think there is a chance to +win—why, why—go to it!" +</P> + +<P> +"You're a brick!" grinned Sanderson. "We'll start the ball to rollin' +right away." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson could not escape the vigorous hug she gave him, but he did +manage to evade her lips, and he went out of the house blushing and +grinning. +</P> + +<P> +It was late in the afternoon when he got to Okar. Barney Owen was with +him. The two rode into town, dismounted at a hitching rail in front of +a building across the front of which was a sign: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent" ALIGN="center"> +THE OKAR HOTEL +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Okar was flourishing—as Mary Bransford said. At its northwestern +corner the basin widened, spreading between the shoulders of two +mountains and meeting a vast stretch of level land that seemed to be +endless. +</P> + +<P> +Okar lay at the foot of the mountain that lifted its bald knob at the +eastern side of the basin's mouth. Two glittering lines of steel that +came from out of the obscurity of distance eastward skirted Okar's +buildings and passed westward into an obscurity equally distant. +</P> + +<P> +The country around Okar was devoted to cattle. Sanderson's practiced +eye told him that. The rich grassland that spread from Okar's confines +was the force that had brought the town into being, and the railroad +would make Okar permanent. +</P> + +<P> +Okar did not look permanent, however. It was of the type of the +average cow-town of the western plains—artificial and crude. Its +buildings were of frame, hurriedly knocked together, representing the +haste of a people in whom the pioneer instinct was strong and +compelling—who cared nothing for appearances, but who fought mightily +for wealth and progress. +</P> + +<P> +Upon Okar was the stamp of newness, and in its atmosphere was the +eagerness and the fervor of commercialism. Okar was the trade mart of +a section of country larger than some of the Old World states. +</P> + +<P> +Fringing the hitching rails in front of its buildings were various +vehicles—the heavy wagons of Mexican freighters, the light buckboard +of the cattleman, and the prairie schooner of the homesteader. +Mingling with the vehicles were the cow-ponies of horsemen who had +ridden into town on various errands; and in the company corrals were +many cattle awaiting shipment. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson stood beside his horse at the hitching rail for a look at +Okar. +</P> + +<P> +There was one street—wide and dust-windrowed, with two narrow board +walks skirting it. The buildings—mostly of one story—did not +interest Sanderson, for he had seen their kind many times, and his +interest centered upon the people. +</P> + +<P> +"Different from Tombstone," he told Owen as the two entered the hotel. +"Tombstone is cattle—Okar is cattle and business. I sort of like +cattle better." +</P> + +<P> +Owen grinned. "Cattle are too slow for some of Okar's men," he said. +"There's men here that figure on making a killing every +day—financially. Gamblers winning big stakes, supply dealers charging +twenty times the value of their stuff; a banker wanting enormous +interest on his money; the railroad company gobbling everything in +sight—and Silverthorn and Dale framing up to take all the land and the +water-rights. See that short, fat man playing cards with the little +one at that table?" +</P> + +<P> +He indicated a table near the rear of the barroom, visible through an +archway that opened from the room in which a clerk with a thin, narrow +face and an alert eye presided at a rough desk. +</P> + +<P> +"That's Maison—Tom Maison, Okar's banker. They tell me he'd skin his +grandmother if he thought he could make a dollar out of the deal." +Owen grinned. "He's the man you're figuring to borrow money from—to +build your dam." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll talk with him tomorrow," said Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +In their room Sanderson removed some of the stains of travel. Then, +telling Owen he would see him at dusk, he went out into the street. +</P> + +<P> +Okar was buzzing with life and humming with activity when Sanderson +started down the board walk. In Okar was typified the spirit of the +West that was to be—the intense hustle and movement that were to make +the town as large and as powerful as many of its sister cities. +</P> + +<P> +Threading his way through the crowd on the board walk, Sanderson +collided with a man. He grinned, not looking at the other, apologized, +and was proceeding on his way, when he chanced to look toward the +doorway of the building he was passing. +</P> + +<P> +Alva Dale was standing just inside the doorway, watching him, and as +Sanderson's gaze met his Dale grinned sneeringly. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's lips twitched with contempt. His own smile matched Dale's +in the quality of its hostility. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was about to pass on when someone struck him heavily between +the shoulders. He staggered and lurched against the rough board front +of the building going almost to his knees. +</P> + +<P> +When he could steady himself he wheeled, his hand at his hip. Standing +near him, grinning maliciously, was the man with whom he had collided. +</P> + +<P> +In the man's right hand was a pistol. +</P> + +<P> +"Bump into me, will you—you locoed shorthorn!" sneered the man as +Sanderson turned. He cursed profanely, incoherently. But he did not +shoot. +</P> + +<P> +The weapon in his hand began to sag curiously, the fingers holding it +slowly slipping from the stock. And the man's face—thin and +seamed—became chalklike beneath the tan upon it. His eyes, furtive +and wolfish, bulged with astonishment and recognition, and his mouth +opened vacuously. +</P> + +<P> +"Deal Sanderson!" he said, weakly. "Good Lord! I didn't git a good +look at yon! I'm in the wrong pew, Deal, an' I sure don't want none of +your game!" +</P> + +<P> +"Dal Colton," said Sanderson. His voice was cold and even as he +watched the other sheathe his gun. "Didn't know me, eh? But you was +figurin' on pluggin' me." +</P> + +<P> +He walked close to the man and stuck his face close to the other, his +lips in a straight line. He knew Colton to be one of the most +conscienceless "killers" in the section of the country near Tombstone. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was you lookin' for, then?" demanded Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Not you—that's a cinch!" grinned the other, fidgeting nervously under +Sanderson's gaze. He whispered to Sanderson, for in the latter's eyes +he saw signs of a cold resolve to sift the matter to the bottom: +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Square; I sure don't want none of your game. Things has +been goin' sorta offish for me for a while, an' so when I meets a guy a +while ago who tells me to 'git' a guy named Will Bransford—pointin' +you out to me when your back was turned—I takes him up. I wasn't +figurin'——" +</P> + +<P> +"Who told you to get Bransford?" demanded Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"A guy named Dale," whispered Colton. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson turned swiftly. He saw Dale still standing in the doorway. +Dale was grinning coldly, and Sanderson knew he suspected what had been +whispered by Colton. But before Sanderson could move, Dale's voice was +raised loudly and authoritatively: +</P> + +<P> +"Arrest that man—quick!" +</P> + +<P> +A man behind Sanderson lunged forward, twisting Sanderson around with +the impetus of the movement. Off his balance, Sanderson saw three or +four other men dive toward Colton. He saw Colton reach for the weapon +he had previously sheathed; saw the weapon knocked from his hand. +</P> + +<P> +Four men seized Colton, and he struggled helplessly in their grasp as +he was dragged away, his face working malignantly as he looked back at +Dale. +</P> + +<P> +"Double-crossed!" he yelled; "you damned, grinnin' coyote!" +</P> + +<P> +A crowd had gathered; Sanderson shouldered his way toward Dale and +faced him. Sanderson's face was white with rage, but his voice was +cold and steady as he stood before Dale. +</P> + +<P> +"So that's the way you work, is it, Dale? I'll give you what you was +goin' to pay Colton, if you'll pull your gun right now!" +</P> + +<P> +Dale's smile was maddeningly insolent. +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" he said, "I'm an officer of the law. There are a dozen of my +men right behind you! Pull your gun! I'd like nothing better than to +have an excuse to perforate you! Sanderson, eh?" he laughed. "Well, +I've heard of you. Square Deal, eh? And here you are, masqueradin' as +Will Bransford! That's goin' to be quite an interestin' situation at +the Double A when things get to goin', eh?" +</P> + +<P> +He laughed again, raucously, and turned his back to Sanderson, +disappearing into the store. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson glanced behind him. Several men were watching him, their +faces set and determined. Sanderson grinned at them and continued his +interrupted walk down the street. +</P> + +<P> +But something had been added to his hatred of Alva Dale—the knowledge +that Dale would not scruple to murder him on any pretext. Sanderson's +grin grew wider as he walked, for he knew of several men who had +harbored such evil intentions against him, and they—— +</P> + +<P> +But Dale was a stronger antagonist, and he had power and authority +behind him. Still, his spirit undaunted, Sanderson's grin grew wider, +though perhaps more grim. It was entirely worth while, now, the +deceiving of the woman he had hoped to protect; it wasn't her fight, +but his. And he would make the fight a good one. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A PLOT THAT WORKED +</H3> + +<P> +Sanderson left the board walk and cut through a yard to the railroad. +He followed the rails until he reached the station. To his question +the station agent informed him that Dave Silverthorn might be found in +his office on the second floor of the building. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson went up. A sign on a glass door bore Silverthorn's name. +Sanderson entered without knocking. +</P> + +<P> +Silverthorn was seated at a desk in a far corner of the room. He +looked up as Sanderson opened the door, and said shortly: +</P> + +<P> +"Well—what is it?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson crossed the room and halted beside the desk. For an instant +neither man spoke. Sanderson saw a man of medium height with a rather +well-rounded stomach, sloping shoulders, and a sleek, well-fed +appearance. His cheeks were full and florid, his lips large and loose; +his eyes cold, calculating, and hard. +</P> + +<P> +Silverthorn saw a lean-faced, broad-shouldered young man with a strong +chin, a firm mouth, and an eye that fixed him with a steady, unwavering +interest. +</P> + +<P> +By the gleam in Sanderson's eyes Silverthorn divined that he was in the +presence of a strong, opposing force, and he drew a slow, deep breath. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" he said, again. +</P> + +<P> +"You're Dave Silverthorn?" +</P> + +<P> +The other nodded. "What can I do for you?" he questioned. +</P> + +<P> +"You can listen while I talk," said Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm Will Bransford, of the Double A. I have heard from several +sources that you an' Alva Dale are after the title to the Double A. +You want the water-rights. You can't have them. An' the title to the +Double A stays with me. Understand that? I am goin' to hold on to the +property. +</P> + +<P> +"I've heard you can juggle the law—that's your business. But you +can't juggle the law enough to horn in on the Double A. If you do, I'm +comin' for you with a law of my own!" He tapped his gun bolster +significantly. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all," he concluded. "Are you sure you understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perfectly," answered Silverthorn. He was smiling mirthlessly, his +face blotched and bloated with mingled fear and rage. "But I'll have +you understand this: I am not afraid of your threats. You can't bully +me. The S. and M. Railroad has dealt with your kind on more than one +occasion. There is an opportunity here to develop a large section of +land, and my company means to do it. We mean to be fair, however. +We'll buy your title to the Double A. How much do you want for it?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson grinned. "The Double A is not for sale. I wouldn't sell it +to you for a million! You cheap crooks think that all you have to do +is to take anything you want. I just stopped in to tell you that I'm +wise to your game, an' that the kind of law I represent ain't cluttered +up with angles an' technical processes. She runs straight to a square +deal all around. That's all, Mr. Silverthorn." +</P> + +<P> +He turned and went out, closing the door behind him. +</P> + +<P> +He had not intended to have his talk with Tom Maison, Okar's banker, +until the following morning. But upon returning to Okar's street he +saw Maison ahead of him on the sidewalk. He followed the banker, saw +him enter the front door of the bank building, and a few minutes later +he was sitting opposite Maison at a table in the banker's private room. +</P> + +<P> +Maison was short and pudgy, short of breath, with a pasty complexion. +</P> + +<P> +"Will Bransford, eh?" he said, looking sharply at Sanderson over the +table. "H'm. You don't look much like your father." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor I don't act like him, either," smiled Sanderson. "For instance," +he went on at the banker's quick look, "dad was slow; he wasn't alive +to his opportunities. How long has it been since the railroad came to +Okar?" +</P> + +<P> +"Five years." +</P> + +<P> +"Then dad was five years slower than he ought to have been. He ought +to have seen what water would do to the basin. He didn't—left that +for me." +</P> + +<P> +"Meaning what?" asked Maison, as Sanderson paused. +</P> + +<P> +"Meanin' that I want to turn the Double A water into the basin. That's +what I came here to see you for. I want to mortgage the Double A to +the limit; I want to build a dam, irrigation canals, locks, an' +everything that goes with it. It will take a heap of money." +</P> + +<P> +Maison reflected. "And you want me to supply it," he said. "Yes, that +project will require a large sum. H'm! It is—er—do you purpose to +try to handle the project yourself, Mr. Bransford?" +</P> + +<P> +"Me an' Mary Bransford. I'll hire an engineer." +</P> + +<P> +Maison's cheeks reddened a trifle. He seemed to lose interest slightly. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think it is rather too big a thing for one man to +handle—aided by a woman?" He smiled blandly at Sanderson. "I have +thought of the water situation in the basin. It is my opinion that it +might be worked out successfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not organize a company—say a company composed of influential and +powerful men like Silverthorn and Dale and—er—myself. We could issue +stock, you know. Each would take a certain number of shares—paying +you for them, of course, and leaving you in possession of a large block +of it—say—forty per cent. We could organize, elect officers——" +</P> + +<P> +"An' freeze me out," smiled Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Maison sat erect and gazed haughtily at his visitor. +</P> + +<P> +"No one has ever questioned my honesty," he declared. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson smiled at him. "Nor I don't. But I want to play her a lone +hand." +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid I wouldn't be interested in that sort of project," said +Maison. +</P> + +<P> +The thought that Maison <I>would</I> be interested—not publicly, but +privately—made Sanderson grin. The grin angered Maison; he arose +smiling coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry to have taken your time, Mr. Bransford," he said, +dismissing his visitor. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson did not give up. "My father left some money in your bank," +he said; "I'll take it." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," said the banker. He got a withdrawal blank and laid it +before Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"The amount is three thousand two hundred," he said. "Just fill that +out and sign your name and yon can have the money." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson did not sign; he sat, looking at the blank, suddenly +afflicted with the knowledge that once more the troublesome "Bransford" +signature had placed him in a dilemma. +</P> + +<P> +Undoubtedly Maison, Silverthorn, and Dale were confederates in this +matter, and Dale's insistence that he sign the register claim was a +mere subterfuge to obtain a copy of the Bransford signature in order to +make trouble for him. It occurred to Sanderson that the men suspected +him, and he grinned coldly as he raised his eyes to Maison. +</P> + +<P> +Maison was watching him, keenly; and his flush when he saw Sanderson +looking at him convinced the latter that his suspicions were not +without foundation. +</P> + +<P> +If Sanderson could have known that he had hardly left the hotel when a +man whispered to Maison; and that Maison had said to the man: "All +right, I'll go down and wait for him," Sanderson could not have more +accurately interpreted Maison's flush. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's grin grew grim. "It's a frame-up," he told himself. His +grin grew saturnine. He got up, folded the withdrawal blank and stuck +it in a pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm leavin' the money here tonight," he said. "For a man that ain't +been to town in a long while, there'd be too many temptations yankin' +at me." +</P> + +<P> +He went out, leaving Maison to watch him from a window, a flush of +chagrin on his face. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson walked down the street toward the hotel. He would have Owen +sign the withdrawal blank before morning—that would defeat Maison's +plan to gain evidence of the impersonation. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Sanderson had not been gone from Silverthorn's office more than five +minutes when Dale entered. Silverthorn was sitting at his desk +scowling, his face pale with big, heavy lines in it showing the strain +of his interview with Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Bransford's been here!" guessed Dale, looking at Silverthorn. +</P> + +<P> +Silverthorn nodded, cursing. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't need to feel conceited," laughed Dale; "he's been to see me, +too." +</P> + +<P> +Dale related what had happened on the street some time before, and +Silverthorn's scowl deepened. +</P> + +<P> +"There are times when you don't seem to be able to think at all, Dale!" +he declared. "After this, when you decide to do a thing, see me +first—or Maison. The last thing we want to happen right now is to +have this fake Bransford killed." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've just got word from Las Vegas that he's submitted his affidavit +establishing his identity, and that the court has accepted it. That +settles the matter until—or unless—we can get evidence to the +contrary. And if he dies without us getting that evidence we are +through." +</P> + +<P> +"Him dyin' would make things sure for us," contended Dale. "Mary +Bransford wouldn't have any claim—us havin' proof that she ain't a +Bransford." +</P> + +<P> +"This fellow is no fool," declared Silverthorn. "Suppose he's wise to +us, which he might be, and he has willed the property to the girl. +Where would we be, not being able to prove that he isn't Will +Bransford?" +</P> + +<P> +Dale meditated. Then he made a wry face. "That's right," he finally +admitted. He made a gesture of futility. "I reckon I'll let you do +the plannin' after this." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," said Silverthorn, mollified. "Have you set Morley on +Barney Owen?" +</P> + +<P> +"Owen was goin' right strong a few minutes after this Bransford guy +left him," grinned Dale. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," said Silverthorn, "go ahead the way we planned it. But +don't have our friend killed." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +When Sanderson entered the hotel the clerk was alone in the office +pondering over the register. +</P> + +<P> +Dusk had fallen, and the light in the office was rather dim. Through +the archway connecting the office with the saloon came a broad beam of +light from a number of kerosene lamps. From beyond the archway issued +the buzz of voices and the clink of glasses; peering through the +opening Sanderson could see that the barroom was crowded. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson mounted the stairs leading from the office. When he had left +Owen, the latter had told Sanderson that it was his intention to spend +the time until the return of his friend in reading. +</P> + +<P> +Owen, however, was not in the room. Sanderson descended the stairs, +walked to the archway that led into the saloon, and looked inside. In +a rear corner of the barroom he saw Owen, seated at a table with +several other men. Owen's face was flushed; he was talking loudly and +extravagantly. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson remembered what Owen had told him concerning his appetite for +strong liquor, he remembered, too, that Owen was in possession of a +secret which, if divulged, would deliver Mary Bransford into the hands +of her enemies. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's blood rioted with rage and disgust. He crossed the barroom +and stood behind Owen. The latter did not see him. One of the men +with Owen did see Sanderson, though, and he looked up impudently, and +smilingly pushed a filled glass of amber-colored liquor toward Owen. +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't half drinkin', Owen," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson reached over, took the glass, threw its contents on the floor +and grasped Owen by the shoulder. His gaze met the tempter's, coldly. +</P> + +<P> +"My friend ain't drinkin' no more tonight," he declared. +</P> + +<P> +The tempter sneered, his body stiffening. +</P> + +<P> +"He ain't, eh?" he grinned, insolently. "I reckon you don't know him; +he likes whisky as a fish likes water." +</P> + +<P> +Several men in the vicinity guffawed loudly. +</P> + +<P> +Owen was drunk. His hair was rumpled, his face was flushed, and his +eyes were bleared and wide with an unreasoning, belligerent light as he +got up, swaying unsteadily, and looked at Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Not drink any more?" he demanded loudly. "Who says I can't? I've got +lots of money, and there's lots of booze here. Who says I can't drink +any more?" +</P> + +<P> +And now, for the first time, he seemed to realize that Sanderson stood +before him. But the knowledge appeared merely to increase his +belligerence to an insane fury. He broke from Sanderson's restraining +grasp and stood off, reeling, looking at Sanderson with the grin of a +satyr. +</P> + +<P> +"Look who's telling me I can't drink any more!" he taunted, so that +nearly every man in the room turned to look at him, "It's my guardian +angel gentlemen—Will Bransford, of the Double A! Will Bransford—ha, +ha, ha! Will Bransford! Come an' look at him, gentlemen! Says I +can't drink any more booze. He's running the Double A, Bransford is. +There's a lot I could tell you about Bransford—a whole lot! He +ain't——" +</P> + +<P> +His maudlin talk broke off short, for Sanderson had stepped to his side +and placed a hand over his mouth. Owen struggled, broke away, and +shouted: +</P> + +<P> +"Damn you, let me alone! I'm going to tell these people who you are. +You're——" +</P> + +<P> +Again his talk was stilled. This time the method was swift and +certain. Sanderson took another step toward him and struck. His fist +landed on Owen's jaw, resounding with a vicious smack! in the sudden +silence that had fallen, and Owen crumpled and sank to the floor in an +inert heap. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was bending over him, preparing to carry him to his room, +when there came an interruption. A big man, with a drawn six-shooter, +stepped to Sanderson's side. A dozen more shoved forward and stood +near him, the crowd moving back, Sanderson sensed the movement and +stood erect, leaving Owen still on the floor. One look at the hostile +faces around him convinced Sanderson that the men were there by design. +</P> + +<P> +He grinned mirthlessly into the face of the man with the drawn pistol. +</P> + +<P> +"Frame-up, eh?" he said. "What's the game?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're wanted for drawin' a gun on Dave Silverthorn—in his office. +I'm a deputy sheriff, an' I've got a warrant for you. Want to see it?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson did not answer. Here was a manifestation of Dale's power and +cupidity. +</P> + +<P> +The charge was a mere subterfuge, designed to deprive him of his +liberty. Sanderson had no intention of submitting. +</P> + +<P> +The deputy saw resistance in the gleam of Sanderson's eyes, and he +spoke sharply, warningly: +</P> + +<P> +"Don't try any funny business; I've a dozen men here!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson laughed in his face. He lunged forward, striking bitterly +with the movement. The deputy's body doubled forward—Sanderson's fist +had been driven into his stomach. His gun clattered to the floor; he +reached out, trying to grasp Sanderson, who evaded him and struck +upward viciously. +</P> + +<P> +The deputy slid to the floor, and Sanderson stood beside the table, his +gun menacing the deputy's followers. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson had worked fast. Possibly the deputy's men had anticipated +no resistance from Sanderson, or they had been stunned with the +rapidity with which he had placed their leader out of action. +</P> + +<P> +Not one of them had drawn a weapon. They watched Sanderson silently as +he began to back away from them, still covering them with his pistol. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson had decided to desert Owen; the man had proved a traitor, and +could not expect any consideration. Owen might talk—Sanderson +expected he would talk; but he did not intend to jeopardize his liberty +by staying to find out. +</P> + +<P> +He stepped backward cautiously, for he saw certain of the men begin to +move restlessly. He cautioned them, swinging the muzzle of his pistol +back and forth, the crowd behind him splitting apart as he retreated. +</P> + +<P> +He had gone a dozen steps when someone tripped him. He fell backward, +landing on his shoulders, his right elbow striking hard on the board +floor and knocking the pistol out of his hand. +</P> + +<P> +He saw the men surge forward, and he made a desperate effort to get to +his feet. But he did not succeed. He was on his knees when several +men, throwing themselves at him, landed on top of him. Their combined +weight crushed him to the floor, but he squirmed out of the mass and +got to his feet, striking at the faces he saw around him, worrying the +men hither and yon, dragging them with him as he reeled under savage +blows that were rained on him. +</P> + +<P> +He had torn himself almost free; one man still clung to him, and he was +trying to shake the fellow off, that he might hit him effectively, when +a great weight seemed to fall on his head, blackness surrounded him, +and he pitched face down on the floor. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TEE VOICE OF THE COYOTE +</H3> + +<P> +When Sanderson regained consciousness he was lying on his back on a +board floor. His head seemed to have been smashed, he was dizzy and +weak, but he sat up and looked around him. +</P> + +<P> +Then he grinned wanly. +</P> + +<P> +He was in jail. A heavy, barred door was in front of him; turning his +head he saw an iron-grated window behind him. Door and window were set +in heavy stone walls; two other stone walls, with a narrow iron cot set +against one of them, rose blankly on either side. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson got up, reeling, and went to the window. Darkness had come; +he could see Okar's lights flickering and winking at him from the +buildings that skirted the street. Various sounds reached his +ears—Okar's citizens were enjoying themselves. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson did not watch the lights long. He walked to the cot, seated +himself on its edge, rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in the +upturned palms of his hands and reflected on what had occurred to him. +</P> + +<P> +Remembering the four thousand dollars in bills of large denomination +that Burroughs had paid him when leaving the Pig-Pen, his hand went to +the money belt around his waist. +</P> + +<P> +Belt and money were gone! +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson got up again, walked to the door and called. +</P> + +<P> +A heavy-featured man slouched down the corridor and halted near the +door. +</P> + +<P> +"Awake, eh?" he grinned. "Dale sure did hand it to you—now, didn't +he? Well," he added as Sanderson's lips straightened at his words, +"what's eatin' you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I had a belt with some money in it—four thousand. What's become of +it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Four thousand!" the man jeered. "That bump on the head is still +affectin' you, I reckon. Four thousand—shucks!" He laughed. "Well, +I ain't seen it—if that's any consolation to you. If you'd had it +when you come here I'd sure seen it." +</P> + +<P> +"Who brought me here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dale and his first deputy—the guy you poked in the stummick, over in +the Okar Hotel. They tell me you fi't like hell! What's Dale got +ag'in' you? Be sure was some het up about you." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson did not answer. He turned his back to the jailer and walked +to the cot, again sitting on its edge. He heard the jailer sniff +contemptuously, but he paid no attention to him. +</P> + +<P> +Prominent in Sanderson's thoughts was the realization that Dale had +taken his money. He knew that was the last of it—Dale would not admit +taking it. Sanderson had intended to use the four thousand on the +Double A irrigation project. The sum, together with the three thousand +he meant to draw from the Okar bank, would have been enough to make a +decent start. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson had some bitter thoughts as he sat on the edge of the cot, +all of them centering around Dale, Silverthorn, Maison, Owen, Mary +Bransford, and himself. He realized that he had been defeated in the +first clash with the forces opposed to him, that Owen had turned +traitor, that Mary Bransford's position now was more precarious than it +had been before his coming, and that he had to deal with resourceful, +desperate, and unscrupulous men. +</P> + +<P> +And yet, sitting there at the edge of the cot, Sanderson grinned. The +grin did not make his face attractive, for it reflected something of +the cold, bitter humor and savage passion that had gripped his soul. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +At noon the next day Sanderson, looking out of the window of his cell; +heard a sound at the door. He turned, to see Silverthorn standing in +the corridor. +</P> + +<P> +Silverthorn smiled blandly at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Over it, I see," he said. "They used you rather roughly, eh? Well, +they tell me you made them step some." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson deliberately turned his back and continued to look out of the +window. +</P> + +<P> +"On your dignity, eh?" sneered Silverthorn. "Well, let me tell you +something. We've heard a lot about you—from Dal Colton and Barney +Owen. Morley—one of our men—got Owen soused last night, as per +orders, and Owen spilled his knowledge of you all over the town. It's +pretty well known, now, that you are Deal Sanderson, from down +Tombstone way. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know what your game was, but I think it's pretty well queered +by now. I suppose you had some idea of impersonating Bransford, hoping +to get a slice of the property. I don't blame you for trying. It was +up to us to see that you didn't get away with it. +</P> + +<P> +"But we don't want to play hog. If you'll admit before a notary that +you are not Will Bransford we'll hand you back the four thousand Dale +took from you, give you ten thousand in addition and safe conduct out +of the county. That strike you?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson did not answer. +</P> + +<P> +Silverthorn's face reddened. "You're a damned fool!" he sneered, +venomously. "We'll keep you in jail here for a thousand years, if +necessary. We'll do worse! +</P> + +<P> +"Look here!" he suddenly said. But Sanderson did not turn. +Silverthorn rattled a paper. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's a withdrawal slip on the Okar bank, calling for three thousand +two hundred dollars, signed by Will Bransford. Barney Owen drew the +money last night and blew it in gambling and drinking. He says he's +been signing Bransford's name—forging it—at your orders. The +signature he put on this paper is a dead ringer for the one on the +registry blank you gave Dale. +</P> + +<P> +"Dale saw Owen sign that. That's why he knew you are not Will +Bransford. Understand? Maison will swear you signed the withdrawal +slip and got the money. We'll prove that you are not Bransford, and +you'll go to the Las Vegas pen for twenty years! Now, let's talk +business!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson turned. There was a mirthless grin on his face. He spoke +loudly, calling the jailer. +</P> + +<P> +When the latter appeared in the corridor beside Silverthorn, Sanderson +addressed him without looking at the other: +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't on your job a heap, are you? There's a locoed coyote +barkin' at me through the door, there. Run him out, will you—he's +disturbin' me plenty." +</P> + +<P> +He turned from the door, stretched himself on the cot, and with his +face to the wall listened while Silverthorn cursed. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DALE PAYS A VISIT +</H3> + +<P> +Shortly after midnight Sanderson was sound asleep on the cot in the +cell when a strange, scraping noise awakened him. He lay still for a +long time, listening, until he discovered that the sound came from the +window. Then he sat up stealthily and looked around to see, framed in +the starlit gloom of the night, the face of Barney Owen, staring in +through the window at him. +</P> + +<P> +The sight of Owen enraged Sanderson, but his curiosity drove him to the +window. +</P> + +<P> +The little man was hanging to the iron bars; his neck muscles were +straining, his face was red and his eyes bright. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk, now!" he warned. "The boss of the dump is awake and he'll +hear. He's in his room; there's nobody else around. I wanted to tell +you that I'm going to knock him silly and get you out of this!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" mocked Sanderson, lowly. +</P> + +<P> +Owen's face grew redder. "Oh, I know I've got something coming, but +I'm going to get you out all the same. I've got our horses and guns. +Be ready!" +</P> + +<P> +He slipped down. Sanderson could hear his feet thud faintly on the +sand outside. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson got into his clothes and stood at the cell door, waiting. +For a long time he heard no sound, but presently he caught the clank of +a door, followed by a swift step, and Owen stood in the corridor before +the cell door, a bunch of keys in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +There was no word spoken. Owen unlocked the door, Sanderson slipped +out, Owen passed him the six-shooter he had lost in the barroom of the +Okar Hotel, and the two slipped noiselessly down the corridor. +</P> + +<P> +A minute later they were mounting the horses that Owen had brought, and +shortly afterward they were moving like shadows away from the outskirts +of Okar. +</P> + +<P> +Not until they were well out in the big basin did either of them speak. +And then Sanderson said, shortly: +</P> + +<P> +"Silverthorn was tellin' me you gassed everything. Are you feelin' +better over it?" +</P> + +<P> +Owen's head bent over his horse's mane; his chin was on his chest when +he answered: +</P> + +<P> +"Come and kill me." +</P> + +<P> +"Hell!" exploded Sanderson, disgustedly. "If there was anything comin' +to you killin' would be too good for you. You ain't done anything to +me, you sufferin' fool—not a thing! What you've done you've done to +Mary Bransford. When you see Dale an' Silverthorn grabbin' the Double +A, an' Mary Bransford ridin' away, homeless—you'll have feelin's of +remorse, mebbe—if you've got any man in you at all!" +</P> + +<P> +Owen writhed and groaned. +</P> + +<P> +"It was the whisky—the cursed whisky!" he whispered. "I can't let it +alone—I love it! And once I get a taste of it, I'm gone—-I'm a +stark, staring lunatic!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd swear to that," grimly agreed Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't mean to say a word to anybody," wailed the little man. "Do +you think I'd do anything to harm Mary Bransford—after what she did +for me? But I did—I must have done it. Dale said I did, Silverthorn +said I did, and you say I did. But I don't remember. Silverthorn said +I signed a receipt for some money from the Okar bank—three thousand, +odd. I don't remember. Oh, but I'm—" +</P> + +<P> +"Calling yourself names won't get you back to where you was before you +made a fool of yourself," Sanderson told him, pityingly. "An' me +tellin' you what I think of you won't relieve my feelin's a whole lot, +for there ain't words enough layin' around loose. +</P> + +<P> +"What I want to know is this: did you go clean loco, or do you remember +anything that happened to you? Do you know who got the money you drew +from the bank?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dale," answered Owen. "He had that, for I remember him counting it in +the back room of the hotel. There was more, too; I heard him telling +Silverthorn there was about seven thousand in all. Silverthorn wanted +him to put it all back in the bank, but Dale said there was just enough +for him to meet his pay-roll—that he owed his men a lot of back pay. +He took it with him." +</P> + +<P> +"My four thousand," said Sanderson, shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yours?" Owen paled. +</P> + +<P> +"Dale lifted my money belt," Sanderson returned. "I was wondering what +he did with it. So that's what." +</P> + +<P> +He relapsed into a grim silence, and Owen did not speak again. +</P> + +<P> +They rode several miles in that fashion—Owen keeping his horse +slightly behind Sanderson's, his gaze on the other's face, his own +white with remorse and anxiety. +</P> + +<P> +At last he heard Sanderson laugh, and the sound of it made him grit his +teeth in impotent agony. +</P> + +<P> +"Sanderson," he said, gulping, "I'm sorry." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," returned the other. "If I hadn't wised up to that quite a +spell ago, you'd be back on the trail, waitin' for some coyote to come +along an' get his supper." +</P> + +<P> +They rode in silence for a long time. They came to the gentle slope of +the basin and began to climb it. +</P> + +<P> +A dozen times Owen rode close to Sanderson, his lips trembling over +unuttered words, but each time he dropped back without speaking. His +eyes, fixed worshipfully on the back of the big, silent man ahead of +him, were glowing with anxiety and wonder. +</P> + +<P> +In the ghostly darkness of the time before the gray forerunner of the +dawn appears on the horizon they came in sight of the Double A +ranchhouse. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was still leading. The ranchhouse burst upon his vision as +his horse topped a rise that had obscured his view of the ranchhouse, +and he saw it, clearly outlined. +</P> + +<P> +Riding down the slope of the rise he smiled. For there was a light in +one of the ranchhouse windows. Mary had left it burn on his account, +he divined. +</P> + +<P> +He halted and allowed Owen to come near him. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary ain't to hear about this deal tonight," he told the little man. +"Not a peep—understand?" +</P> + +<P> +Without waiting for an answer he rode onward. +</P> + +<P> +Thinking that, perhaps, in spite of the burning lamp Mary might be +sleeping, Sanderson cautiously dismounted at the corral gates, and, +leaving Owen to put his own horse away, he walked toward the house, +stealthily, for he did not wish to awaken the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Halfway across the ranchhouse yard, Sanderson saw a shadow cross the +light in the window. Again he grinned, thinking Mary had not gone to +bed after all. +</P> + +<P> +But, going forward more unconcernedly, Sanderson's smile faded and was +succeeded by a savage frown. For in the shadow formed by the little +"L" at the junction of the house and porch, he saw a horse saddled and +bridled. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly alert, and yielding to the savage rage that gripped him, +Sanderson stole softly forward and looked closely at the animal. He +recognized it instantly as Dale's, and in the instant, his face pale, +his eyes blazing with passion, he was on the porch, peering through one +of the darkened windows. +</P> + +<P> +Inside he saw Dale and Mary Bransford. They were in the sitting-room. +Dale was sitting in a big chair, smoking a cigar, one arm carelessly +thrown over the back of the chair, his legs crossed, his attitude that +of the master. +</P> + +<P> +Standing perhaps a dozen feet from him was Mary Bransford. +</P> + +<P> +The girl's eyes were wide with fright and astonishment, disbelief, +incredulity—and several other emotions that Sanderson could not +analyze. He did not try. One look at her sufficed to tell him that +Dale was baiting her, tantalizing her, mocking her, and Sanderson's +hatred for the man grew in intensity until it threatened to overwhelm +him. +</P> + +<P> +There was in his mind an impulse to burst into the house and kill Dale +where he sat. It was the primitive lust to destroy an unprincipled +rival that had seized Sanderson, for he saw in Dale's eyes the bold +passion of the woman hunter. +</P> + +<P> +However, Sanderson conquered the impulse. He fought it with the +marvelous self-control and implacable determination that had made him +feared and respected wherever men knew him, and in the end the faint, +stiff grin on his face indicated that whatever he did would be done +with deliberation. +</P> + +<P> +This was an instance where the eavesdropper had some justification for +his work, and Sanderson listened. +</P> + +<P> +He heard Dale laugh—the sound of it made Sanderson's lips twitch +queerly. He saw Mary cringe from Dale and press her hands over her +breast. Dale's voice carried clearly to Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Ha, ha!" he said. "So <I>that</I> hurts, eh? Well, here's more of the +same kind. We got Barney Owen drunk last sight, and he admitted that +he'd signed all of Sanderson's papers—the papers that were supposed to +have been signed by your brother. Why didn't Sanderson sign them? +Why? Because Sanderson couldn't do it. +</P> + +<P> +"Owen, who knew your brother in Arizona, signed them, because he knew +how to imitate your brother's writing. Get that! Owen signed a bank +receipt for the money old Bransford had in the bank. Owen got it and +gave it to me. He was so drunk he didn't know what he was doing, but +he could imitate your brother's writing, all right." +</P> + +<P> +"You've got the money?" gasped the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Again Dale laughed, mockingly. "Yep," he said, "I've got it. Three +thousand two hundred. And I've got four thousand that belongs to that +four-flusher, Square Deal. Seven thousand." He laughed again. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is Sanderson?" questioned the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"In jail, over in Okar." Dale paused long enough to enjoy the girl's +distress. Then he continued: "Owen is in jail, too, by this time. +Silverthorn and Maison are not taking any chances on letting him go +around loose." +</P> + +<P> +"Sanderson in jail!" gasped Mary. She seemed to droop; she staggered +to a chair and sank into it, still looking at Dale, despair in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Dale got up and walked to a point directly in front of her, looking +down at her, triumphantly. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what," he said. "In jail. Moreover, that's where they'll stay +until this thing is settled. We mean to have the Double A. The sooner +you realize that, the easier it will be for you. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm offering you a way out of it—an easy way. That guy, Sanderson, +ain't on the level. He's been working you, making a monkey of +you—fooling you. He wants the Double A for himself. He's been +hanging around here, passing himself off as your brother, aiming to get +on the good side of you—getting you to love him good and hard. Then +mebbe he'd tell you, thinking that you'd forgive him. But mebbe that +wasn't his game at all. Mebbe he'd figured to grab the ranch and turn +you out. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, I'm offering you a whole lot. Mebbe you've thought I was sweet +on that Nyland girl. Get that out of your mind. I was only fooling +with her—like any man fools with a girl. I want her ranch—that's +all. But I don't care a damn about the Double A, I want you. I've had +my eye on you right along. Mebbe it won't be marriage right away, +but——" +</P> + +<P> +"Alva Dale!" +</P> + +<P> +The girl was on her feet, her eyes blazing. +</P> + +<P> +Dale did not retreat from her; he stood smiling at her, his face +wreathed in a huge grin. He was enjoying the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson slipped along the wall of the house and opened the door. It +creaked loudly on its hinges with the movement, causing both Dale and +the girl to turn and face it. +</P> + +<P> +Mary Bransford stood rigid as she saw Sanderson standing in the +doorway, a flush sweeping swiftly over her face. There was relief in +her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Astonishment and stark, naked fear were in Dale's eyes. He shrank back +a step, and looked swiftly at Sanderson's right hand, and when he saw +that it held a six-shooter he raised both his own hands, shoulder-high, +the palms toward Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"So you know it means shootin', eh?" said Sanderson grimly as he +stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him, slamming it +shut with his left hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, shootin' goes." There was the cold calm of decision in his +manner; his eyes were ablaze with the accumulated hate and rage that +had been aroused over what he had heard. The grin that he showed to +Dale drew his lips into two straight, stiff lines. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon you think you've earned your red shirt, Dale," he said, "for +tellin' tales out of school. Well, you'll get it. There's just one +thing will save your miserable hide. You got that seven thousand on +you?" +</P> + +<P> +Dale hesitated, then nodded. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson spoke to Mary Bransford without removing his gaze from Dale: +</P> + +<P> +"Get pen, ink, an' paper." +</P> + +<P> +The girl moved quickly into another room, returning almost instantly +with the articles requested. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down an' write what I tell you to," directed Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Dale dropped into a chair beside a center-table, took up the pen, +poised it over the paper, and looked at Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"I am hereby returning to Deal Sanderson the seven thousand two hundred +dollars I stole from, him," directed Sanderson. "I am doing this of my +own accord—no one is forcin' me," went on Sanderson. "I want to add +that I hereby swear that the charge of drawin' a gun on Silverthorn was +a frame-up, me an' Silverthorn an' Maison bein' the guilty parties," +finished Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," he added, when Dale had written as directed, "sign it." +</P> + +<P> +Dale signed and stood up, his face aflame with rage. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll take the money—now," said Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Dale produced it from various pockets, laying it on the table. He said +nothing. Mary Bransford stood a little distance away, watching +silently. +</P> + +<P> +"Count it, Miss Bransford," said Sanderson when Dale had disgorged the +money. +</P> + +<P> +The two men stood silent as the girl fingered the bills. At last she +looked at Sanderson and nodded. +</P> + +<P> +The latter grinned. "Everything's regular, now," he said. He looked +at Mary. "Do you want him killed, ma'am? He'd be a lot better off +dead. You'd be better off, too. This kind of a skunk is always +around, botherin' women—when there ain't no men around." +</P> + +<P> +Mary shook her head with a decisive negative. +</P> + +<P> +"Then he won't die, right now," said Sanderson. "He'll pull his +freight away from the Double A, though, ma 'am. An' he'll never come +back." +</P> + +<P> +He was talking to Dale through the girl, and Dale watched him, scowling. +</P> + +<P> +"If he does come back, you'll tell me, won't you, ma'am? An' then +there'll never be an Alva Dale to bother you again—or to go around +robbin' honest men, an' tryin' to get them mixed up with the law." +</P> + +<P> +And now he turned from the girl and spoke to Dale: +</P> + +<P> +"You go right back to Okar an' tell Maison an' Silverthorn what has +happened here tonight. Show them how the fear of God has got into your +heart an' made you yearn to practice the principles of a square deal. +Tell them that they'd better get to goin' straight, too, for if they +don't there's a guy which was named after a square deal that is goin' +to snuff them off this hemisphere middlin' rapid. That's all. You'd +better hit the breeze right back to Okar an' spread the good news." +</P> + +<P> +He stood, a grim smile on his face, watching Dale as the latter walked +to the door. When Dale stepped out on the porch Sanderson followed +him, still regarding the movements of the other coldly and alertly. +</P> + +<P> +Mary heard them—their steps on the boards of the porch; she heard the +saddle leather creak as Dale climbed on his horse; she heard the sound +of the hoofbeats as the horse clattered out of the ranchhouse yard. +</P> + +<P> +And then for several minutes she stood near the little table in the +room, listening vainly for some sound that would tell her of the +presence of Sanderson on the porch. None came. +</P> + +<P> +At last, when she began to feel certain that he had gone to the +bunkhouse, she heard a step on the porch and saw Sanderson standing in +the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +He grinned at her, meeting her gaze fairly. +</P> + +<P> +"Dale told you a heap of truth, ma'am," he said. "I feel more like a +man tonight than I've felt for a good many days—an' nights." +</P> + +<P> +"Then it was true—as Dale said—that you are not my brother?" said the +girl. She was trying to make her voice sound severe, but only +succeeded in making it quaver. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't your brother." +</P> + +<P> +"And you came here to try to take the ranch away from me—to steal it?" +</P> + +<P> +He flushed. "You've got four thousand of my money there, ma'am. +You're to keep it. Mebbe that will help to show what my intentions +were. About the rest—your brother an' all—I'll have to tell you. +It's a thing you ought to know, an' I don't know what's been keepin' me +from tellin' you all along. +</P> + +<P> +"Mebbe it was because I was scared you'd take it hard. But since these +sneaks have got to waggin' their tongues it'll have to be told. If you +sit down by the table there, I'll tell you why I done what I did." +</P> + +<P> +She took a chair beside the table and faced him, and, standing before +her, speaking very gently, but frankly, he related what had occurred to +him in the desert. She took it calmly, though there were times when +her eyes glowed with a light that told of deep emotion. But she soon +became resigned to the death of her brother and was able to listen to +Sanderson's story of his motive in deceiving her. +</P> + +<P> +When he related his emotion during their first meeting—when he had +told Dale that he was her brother, after yielding to the appeal in her +eyes—she smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"There was some excuse for it, after all," she declared. +</P> + +<P> +"An' you ain't blamin' me—so much?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No," she said. She blushed as she thought of the times she had kissed +him. He was thinking of her kisses, too, and as their eyes met, each +knew what the other was thinking about. Sanderson smiled at her and +her eyes dropped. +</P> + +<P> +"It wasn't a square deal for me to take them, then, ma'am," he told +her. "But I'm goin' to stay around here an' fight Dale an' his friends +to a finish. That is, if you want me to stay. I'd like a straight +answer. I ain't hangin' around where I ain't wanted." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes glowed as she looked at him. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll have to stay, now," she said. "Will is dead, and you will have +to stay here and brazen it out. They'd take the Double A from me +surely, if you were to desert me. You will have to stay and insist +that you are my brother!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's a contract," he agreed. "But"—he looked at her, a flush on +his face—"goin' back to them kisses. It wasn't a square deal. But +I'm hopin' that a day will come——" +</P> + +<P> +She got up, her face very red. "It is nearly morning," she interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he smiled; "things are only beginnin'." +</P> + +<P> +"You are impudent—and imprudent," she said, looking straight at him. +</P> + +<P> +"An' hopeful," he answered, meeting her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Fifteen minutes later, stretched out on his bed, Sanderson saw the dawn +breaking in the east. It reminded him of the morning he had seen the +two riders above him on the edge of the arroyo. As on that other +morning, he lay and watched the coming of the dawn. And when later he +heard Mary moving about in the kitchen he got up, not having slept a +wink, and went out to her. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you sleep well?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"How could I," he asked, "with a new day dawnin' for me?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE HAND OF THE ENEMY +</H3> + +<P> +When in the bunkhouse the next morning Sanderson informed Barney Owen +of what had occurred during the night, the latter looked fixedly at +Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"So she didn't take it hard," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Was you expectin' her to? For a brother that she hadn't seen in a +dozen years—an' which she knows in her secret heart wasn't any good?" +retorted Sanderson. "Shootin' your face off in Okar—or anywhere +else—don't go any more," added Sanderson. "She's pretendin', +publicly, that I'm her brother." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm through talking," declared Owen. +</P> + +<P> +"Or livin'. It's one or the other," warned Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson took the seven thousand dollars that Mary gave him, rode to +Lazette—a town fifty miles eastward from the basin—-and deposited the +money in a bank there. Then he rode eastward still farther and in +another town discovered a young engineer with a grievance against his +employers. +</P> + +<P> +The result of this discovery was that on the following morning the +young engineer and Sanderson journeyed westward to the basin, arriving +at the Double A late in the afternoon of the next day. +</P> + +<P> +On the edge of the plateau after the engineer and, Sanderson had spent +three or four days prowling through the basin and the gorge, the +engineer spoke convincingly: +</P> + +<P> +"It's the easiest thing in the world! A big flume to the point I +showed you, a big main ditch and several laterals will do the trick. +I'm with you to the finish!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson smiled at the engineer's glowing enthusiasm and told him of +the opposition he would meet in developing the project. +</P> + +<P> +"There'll be a heap of schemin', an' mebbe shootin', Williams," +Sanderson told him. "Puttin' through this deal won't be any +pussy-kitten affair." +</P> + +<P> +"So much the better," laughed the engineer; "I'm fed up on soft snaps +and longing for action." +</P> + +<P> +The engineer was thirty; big, square-shouldered, lithe, and capable. +He had a strong face and a level, steady eye. +</P> + +<P> +"If you mean business, let's get acquainted," he said. "My front name +is Kent." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Kent, let's get busy," smiled Sanderson. "You go to work on +your estimates, order your material, hire your men. I'll see how bad +the people in the basin want the water they've been expectin'." +</P> + +<P> +Kent Williams took up his quarters in the bunkhouse and immediately +began work, though before he could do much he rode to Okar, telegraphed +to Dry Bottom, the town which had been the scene of his previous +activity, and awaited the arrival of several capable-looking young men. +</P> + +<P> +In company with the latter he returned to the Double A, and for many +days thereafter he and his men ran the transit and drove stakes in the +basin and along the gorge. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson spent much of his time talking with the cattlemen in the +basin. They were all eager to have water brought to their ranches, for +it would save them the long trip to the river, which was inaccessible +in many places, and they welcomed the new project. +</P> + +<P> +0ne of the men—a newcomer to the basin—voiced the general sentiment. +</P> + +<P> +"We want water, an' we don't give a damn who brings it here. First +come, first served!" +</P> + +<P> +The big problem to Sanderson, however, was the question of money. He +was aware that a vast sum would be required. Nearly all the money he +possessed would be sunk in the preliminary work, and he knew that if +the work was to go on he must borrow money. +</P> + +<P> +He couldn't get money in Okar, he knew that. +</P> + +<P> +He rode to Lazette and talked with a banker there. The latter was +interested, but unwilling to lend. +</P> + +<P> +"The Okar Basin," he said. "Yes, I've heard about it. Great prospects +there. But I've been told that Silverthorn and Maison are going to put +it through, and until I hear from them, I shouldn't like to interfere." +</P> + +<P> +"That gang won't touch the Double A water!" declared Sanderson. "I'll +see the basin scorched to a cinder before I'll let them in on the deal!" +</P> + +<P> +The banker smiled. "You are entitled to the water, of course; and I +admire your grit. But those men are powerful. I have to depend on +them a great deal. So you can see that I couldn't do anything without +first consulting them." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson left Lazette in disgust. It was not until after he had tried +in Dry Bottom and Las Vegas that he realized how subtle and +far-reaching was the power and influence of the financial rulers of +Okar. +</P> + +<P> +"We should like to let you have the money," the Las Vegas banker told +him. "But, unfortunately, a loan to you would conflict with our +interests in Okar. We know the big men in Okar have been considering +the water question in the basin, and we should not like to antagonize +them." +</P> + +<P> +The trip consumed two weeks, and Sanderson returned to the Double A to +discover that during his absence very little work had been done. +</P> + +<P> +"It looks like we're up against it," Williams informed him when pressed +for an explanation. "We can't get a pound of material. I went +personally to Okar and was told by Silverthorn that the railroad would +accept no material consigned to the Double A ranch." +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty raw," was Sanderson's only comment. +</P> + +<P> +"Raw? It's rotten!" declared Williams. "There's plenty of the kind +of material we want in Lazette. To get it here would mean a fifty-mile +haul. I can get teams and wagons in Lazette," he added, an eager note +in his voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Go to it," said Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Williams smiled admiringly. "You're game, Mr. Man," he said; "it's a +pleasure to work for you!" +</P> + +<P> +However, it was not courage that impelled Sanderson to accept the +hazard and expense of the fifty-mile haul. In his mind during the days +he had been trying to borrow money had been a picture of the defeat +that was ahead of him if he did not succeed; he could imagine the +malicious satisfaction with which his three enemies would discuss his +failure. +</P> + +<P> +Inwardly, Sanderson was writhing with impatience and consumed with an +eagerness to get into personal contact with his enemies, the passion to +triumph had gripped his soul, and a contempt for the sort of law in +which Okar dealt had grown upon him until the contemplation of it had +aroused in him a savage humor. +</P> + +<P> +Okar's law was not law at all; it was a convenience under which his +three enemies could assail the property rights of others. +</P> + +<P> +Outwardly, Sanderson was a smiling optimist. To Mary Bransford he +confided that all was going well. +</P> + +<P> +Neither had broached the subject of Sanderson's impersonation since the +night of Dale's visit. It was a matter which certain thoughts made +embarrassing for Mary, and Sanderson was satisfied to keep silent. +</P> + +<P> +But on the day that Williams left the Double A for Lazette, Mary's +curiosity could not be denied. She had conquered that constraint which +had resulted from the revelation of Sanderson's identity, and had asked +him to ride to the top of the gorge, telling him she wanted him to +explain the proposed system of irrigation. +</P> + +<P> +"It is desperately hard to get any information out of Williams," she +told Sanderson; "he simply won't talk about the work." +</P> + +<P> +"Meanin' that he'll talk rapid enough about other things, eh?" +Sanderson returned. He looked slyly at Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"What other things are there for him to talk about?" +</P> + +<P> +"A man could find a heap of things to talk about—to a woman. He might +talk about himself—or the woman," suggested Sanderson, grinning. +</P> + +<P> +She gave him a knowing look. "Oh," she said, reddening. "Yes," she +added, smiling faintly, "now that you speak of it, I remember he did +talk quite a little. He is a very interesting man." +</P> + +<P> +"Good-looking too," said Sanderson; "an' smart. He saw the prospects +of this thing right off." +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you see them?" she questioned quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that," he said, flushing. "If the Drifter hadn't told me mebbe I +wouldn't have seen." +</P> + +<P> +"You have always been around cattle, I suppose?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Raised with them," smiled Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Thus she directed the conversation to the subject about which she had +wanted to inquire—his past life. Her questions were clever; they were +suggestions to which he could do nothing except to return direct +replies. And she got out of him much of his history, discovering that +he had sound moral views, and a philosophy of which the salient +principle was the scriptural injunction: "Do unto others as ye would +that others should do unto you." +</P> + +<P> +Upon that principle he had founded his character. His reputation had +grown out of an adamantine adherence to it. Looking at him now she +felt the strength of him, his intense devotion to his ideals; the +earnestness of him. +</P> + +<P> +Curiously, she had felt those things during the time she had thought of +him as her brother, and had been conscious of the lure of him. It gave +her a queer thrill to stand beside him now, knowing that she had kissed +him; that he had had an opportunity to take advantage of the situation, +and had not done so. +</P> + +<P> +He had acted the gentleman; he was a gentleman. That was why she was +able to talk with him now. If he had not treated her as he had treated +her his presence at the Double A would have been intolerable. +</P> + +<P> +There was deep respect for women in Sanderson, she knew. Also, despite +his bold, frank glances—which was merely the manhood of him +challenging her and taking note of her charms—there was a hesitating +bashfulness about the man, as though he was not quite certain of the +impression he was creating in her mind. +</P> + +<P> +That knowledge pleased Mary; it convinced her of his entire worthiness; +it gave her power over him—and that power thrilled her. +</P> + +<P> +As her brother, he had been an interesting figure, though his manner +had repelled her. And she had been conscious of a subtle pleasure that +was not all sisterly when she had been near him. She knew, now, that +the sensation had been instinctive, and she wondered if she could have +felt toward her brother as she felt toward this man. +</P> + +<P> +However, this new situation had removed the diffidence that had +affected her; their relations were less matter of fact and more +romantic, and she felt toward him as any woman feels who knows an +admirer pursues her—breathless with the wonder of it, but holding +aloof, tantalizing, whimsical, and uncertain of herself. +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him challengingly, mockery in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"So you came here because the Drifter told you there would be +trouble—and a woman. How perfectly delightful!" +</P> + +<P> +He sensed her mood and responded to it. +</P> + +<P> +"It's sure delightful. But it ain't unusual. I've always heard that +trouble will be lurkin' around where there's a woman." +</P> + +<P> +"But you would not say that a woman is not worth the trouble she +causes?" she countered. +</P> + +<P> +"A man is willin' to take her—trouble an' all," he responded, looking +straight at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—if he can get her!" she shot back at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Mostly every woman gets married to a man. I've got as good a chance +as any other man." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because you're talkin' to me about it," he grinned. "If you wasn't +considerin' me you wouldn't argue with me about it; you'd turn me down +cold an' forget it." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose when a man is big and romantic-looking——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, shucks, ma'am; you'll be havin' me gettin' a swelled head." +</P> + +<P> +"He thinks that all he has to do is to look his best." +</P> + +<P> +"I expect I've looked my worst since I've been here. I ain't had a +chance to do any moonin' at you." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like men that 'moon,'" she declared. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the reason I didn't do it," he said. +</P> + +<P> +She laughed. "Now, tell me," she asked, "how you got your name, +'Deal.' It had something to do with cards, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"With weight," he said, looking soberly at her. "When I was born my +dad looked at me sort of nonplussed. I was that big. 'There's a deal +of him,' he told my mother. An' the name stuck. That ain't a lot +mysterious." +</P> + +<P> +"It was a convenient name to attach the 'Square' to," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"I've earned it," he said earnestly. "An' I've had a mighty hard time +provin' my right to wear it. There's men that will tempt you out of +pure deviltry, an' others that will try to shoot such a fancy out of +your system. But I didn't wear the 'Square' because I wanted to—folks +hung it onto me without me askin'. That's one reason I left Tombstone; +I'd got tired of posin' as an angel." +</P> + +<P> +He saw her face grow thoughtful and a haunting expression come into her +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't told me how he looked," she said. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson lied. He couldn't tell her of the dissipation he had seen in +her brother's face, nor of the evilness that had been stamped there. +He drew a glowing picture of the man he had buried, and told her that +had he lived her brother would have done her credit. +</P> + +<P> +But Sanderson suffered no remorse over the lie. For he saw her eyes +glow with pride, and he knew that the picture he had drawn would be the +ideal of her memory for the future. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE TRAIL HERD +</H3> + +<P> +Kent Williams went to Lazette, and Sanderson spent the interval during +his departure and return in visiting the cattlemen and settlers in the +basin. The result of these visits was a sheaf of contracts for water, +the charge based on acreage, that reposed in Sanderson's pockets. +According to the terms of the contracts signed by the residents of the +basin, Sanderson was to furnish water within one year. +</P> + +<P> +The length of time, Sanderson decided, would tell the story of his +success or failure. If he failed he would lose nothing, because of +having the contracts with the settlers, and if he won the contracts +would be valid. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was determined to win. When after an absence of a week +Williams returned, to announce that he had made arrangements for the +material necessary to make a "regular" start, and that he had hired men +and teams to transport the material, Sanderson's determination became +grim. For Williams told him that he had "gone the limit," which meant +that every cent to Sanderson's credit in the Lazette bank had been +pledged to pay for the material the engineer had ordered. +</P> + +<P> +"We're going to rush things from now on," Williams told Sanderson. +"Next week we'll need ten thousand dollars, at least." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson went into the house and had a long talk with Mary Bransford. +Coming out, he went to the corral, saddled Streak, and rode to Okar. +</P> + +<P> +Shortly he was sitting at a desk opposite a little man who was the +resident buyer for an eastern live-stock company. +</P> + +<P> +"The Double A has three thousand head of cattle," Sanderson told the +little man. "They've had good grass and plenty of water. They're fat, +an' are good beef cattle. Thirty-three dollars is the market price. +What will you give for them, delivered to your corral here?" +</P> + +<P> +The resident buyer looked uncomfortable. "I've had orders not to buy +any more cattle for a time." +</P> + +<P> +"Whose orders?" demanded Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +The resident buyer's face flushed and he looked more uncomfortable. +</P> + +<P> +"My firm's orders!" he snapped. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson laughed grimly; he saw guilt in the resident buyer's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Silverthorn's orders," he said shortly. At the other's emphatic +negative Sanderson laughed again. "Maison's, then. Sure—Maison's," +he added, as the other's flush deepened. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson got up. "Don't take it so hard," he advised the resident +buyer. "I ain't goin' to bite you. What I'm wonderin' is, did Maison +give you that order personally, or did you get it from your boss." +</P> + +<P> +The buyer shifted uneasily in his chair, and did not look at Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said the latter, "it don't make a heap of difference. +Good-bye," he said, as he went out. "If you get to feelin' mighty +small an' mean you can remember that you're only one of the pack of +coyotes that's makin' this town a disgrace to a dog kennel." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson returned to the Double A and found Mary in the house. +</P> + +<P> +"No go," he informed her. "Maison an' Silverthorn an' Dale have +anticipated that move. We don't sell any cattle in Okar." +</P> + +<P> +The girl's disappointment was deep. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose we may as well give up," she said. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson lifted her face to his. +</P> + +<P> +"If you're goin' to talk that way I ain't goin' to love you like I +thought I was," he grinned. "An' I'm sure wantin' to." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to give up," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Meanin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Meaning that I'd like to have you beat those men. Oh, the miserable +schemers! They will go to any length to defeat you." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed lowly and vibrantly. "Well, they'll certainly have to +travel <I>some</I>," he said. "About as fast as the man will have to travel +that takes you away from me." +</P> + +<P> +"Is victory that dear to you?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't take one without the other," he told her his eyes glowing. +"If I don't beat Silverthorn and the others, an' keep the Double A for +you, why I——" +</P> + +<P> +"You'll win!" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"You are hopin' I will?" he grinned. "Well," he added, as she averted +her eyes, "there'll come a time when we'll talk real serious about +that. I'm goin' to tell the range boss to get ready for a drive to Las +Vegas." +</P> + +<P> +"That is a hundred and seventy-five miles!" gasped the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"I've followed a trail herd two thousand," grinned Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean that you will go yourself—with the outfit?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson went out, mounted Streak, and found the range boss—Eli +Carter. Carter and the men were ordered to round up all the Double A +cattle and get ready to drive them to Las Vegas. Sanderson told Carter +he would accompany the outfit. +</P> + +<P> +Cutting across the basin toward the ranchhouse, he saw another horseman +riding fast to intercept him, and he swerved Streak and headed toward +the other. +</P> + +<P> +The rider was Williams, and when Sanderson got close enough to see his +face he noted that the engineer was pale and excited. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHECKED BY THE SYSTEM +</H3> + +<P> +The engineer waved a yellow paper at Sanderson and shouted: +</P> + +<P> +"I just got this. I made a hit with the Okar agent last week, and he +sent a man over with it. That's a damned scoundrelly bunch that's +working against you! Do you know what they've done?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson said nothing, and the engineer resumed, explosively: +</P> + +<P> +"They've tied up your money at the Lazette bank! My material men won't +send a pound of stuff to me until they get the cash! We're +stopped—dead still!" +</P> + +<P> +He passed a telegram to Sanderson, who read: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Bank here refuses to honor Sanderson's check. Claim money belongs to +Bransford estate. Legal tangle. Must have cash or won't send material. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE BRANDER COMPANY. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +A flicker of Sanderson's eyelids was all the emotion he betrayed to +Williams. The latter looked at him admiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"By George," he said, "you take it like a major! In your shoes I'd get +off my nag and claw up the scenery!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson smiled. After telling the engineer to do as much as he could +without the material, he rode on. +</P> + +<P> +He had betrayed no emotion in the presence of Williams, but he was +seething with passion. +</P> + +<P> +Late the next afternoon he joined Carter and the outfit. The men had +made good use of their time, and when Sanderson arrived, the entire +herd of cattle was massed on a broad level near the river. They were +milling impatiently, for the round-up had just been completed, and they +were nervous over the unusual activity. +</P> + +<P> +The cowboys, bronzed, lean, and capable, were guarding the herd, riding +slowly around the fringe of tossing horns, tired, dusty, but singing +their quaint songs. +</P> + +<P> +Carter had sent the cook back to the ranchhouse during the afternoon to +obtain supplies; and now the chuck wagon, with bulging sides, was +standing near a fire at which the cook himself was preparing supper. +</P> + +<P> +Carter grinned as Sanderson rode up. +</P> + +<P> +"All ready!" he declared. "We sure did hump ourselves!" +</P> + +<P> +Around the camp fire that night Sanderson was moody and taciturn. He +had stretched out on his blanket and lay listening to the men until one +by one they dropped off to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's thoughts were bitter. He felt the constricting influence +of his enemies; he was like the herd of cattle that his men had rounded +up that day, for little by little Silverthorn, Dale, and Maison were +cutting down his area of freedom and of action, were hampering him on +all sides, and driving him to a point where he would discover +resistance to be practically useless. +</P> + +<P> +He had thought in the beginning that he could devise some way to escape +the meshes of the net that was being thrown around him, but he was +beginning to realize that he had underestimated the power and the +resources of his enemies. +</P> + +<P> +Maison and Silverthorn he knew were mere tentacles of the capital they +represented; it was their business to reach out, searching for victims, +in order to draw them in and drain from them the last vestige of wealth. +</P> + +<P> +And Sanderson had no doubt that they did that work impersonally and +without feeling, not caring, and perhaps not understanding the tortures +of a system—of a soulless organization seeking only financial gain. +</P> + +<P> +Dale, however, was intensely human and individualistic. He was not as +subtle nor as smooth as his confederates. And money was not the only +incentive which would drive him to commit crime. He was a gross +sensualist, unprincipled and ruthless, and Sanderson's hatred of him +was beginning to overshadow every other consideration. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson went to sleep with his bitter thoughts, which were tempered +with a memory of the gentle girl at whom the evil agencies of his +enemies were directed. They were eager to get possession of Mary +Bransford's property, but their real fight would be, and was, against +him. +</P> + +<P> +But it was Mary Bransford that he was fighting for, and if he could get +the herd of cattle to Las Vegas and dispose of them, he would be +provided with money enough to defeat his enemies. But money he must +have. +</P> + +<P> +At breakfast the next morning Carter selected the outfit for the drive. +He named half a dozen men, who were variously known as Buck, Andy, Bud, +Soapy, Sogun, and the Kid. These men were experienced trail-herd men, +and Carter had confidence in them. +</P> + +<P> +Their faces, as they prepared for the trip, revealed their joy and +pride over their selection, while the others, disappointment in their +eyes, plainly envied their fellow-companions. +</P> + +<P> +But Sanderson lightened their disappointment by entrusting them with a +new responsibility. +</P> + +<P> +"You fellows go back to the Double A an' hang around," he told them. +"I don't care whether you do a lick of work or not. Stick close to the +house an' keep an eye on Mary Bransford. If Dale, or any of his gang, +come nosin' around, bore them, plenty! If any harm comes to Mary +Bransford while I'm gone, I'll salivate you guys!" +</P> + +<P> +Shortly after breakfast the herd was on the move. The cowboys started +them westward slowly, for trail cattle do not travel fast, urging them +on with voice and quirt until the line stretched out into a sinuously +weaving band a mile long. +</P> + +<P> +They reached the edge of the big level after a time, and filed through +a narrow pass that led upward to a table-land. Again, after a time, +they took a descending trail, which brought them down upon a big plain +of grassland that extended many miles in all directions. Fringing the +plain on the north was a range of hills that swept back to the +mountains that guarded the neck of the big basin at Okar. +</P> + +<P> +There was timber on the hills, and the sky line was ragged with +boulders. And so Sanderson and his men, glancing northward many times +during the morning, did not see a rider who made his way through the +hills. +</P> + +<P> +During the previous afternoon the rider had sat on his horse in the dim +haze of distance, watching the Double A outfit round up its cattle; and +during the night he had stood on guard, watching the men around the +camp fire. +</P> + +<P> +He had seen most of the Double A men return toward the ranchhouse after +the trail crew had been selected; he had followed the progress of the +herd during the morning. +</P> + +<P> +At noon he halted in a screen of timber and grinned felinely. +</P> + +<P> +"They're off, for certain," he said aloud. +</P> + +<P> +Late that afternoon the man was in Okar, talking with Dale and +Silverthorn and Maison. +</P> + +<P> +"What you've been expectin' has happened," he told them. "Sanderson, +Carter, an' six men are on the move with a trail herd. They're headed +straight on for Las Vegas." +</P> + +<P> +Silverthorn rubbed the palms of his hands together, Maison smirked, and +Dale's eyes glowed with satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +Dale got up and looked at the man who had brought the information. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Morley," he said with a grin. "Get going; we'll meet up +with Sanderson at Devil's Hole." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A QUESTION OF BRANDS +</H3> + +<P> +Trailing a herd of cattle through a strange wild country is no +sinecure. There was not a man in the Double A outfit who expected an +easy time in trailing the herd to Las Vegas, for it was a rough, grim +country, and the men were experienced. +</P> + +<P> +Wild cattle are not tractable; they have an irritating habit of +obstinately insisting on finding their own trail, and of persisting in +vagaries that are the despair of their escort. +</P> + +<P> +The Double A herd was no exception. On a broad level they behaved +fairly well, though always requiring the attention of the men; but in +the broken sections of country through which they passed, +heart-breaking effort was required of the men to keep them headed in +the right direction. +</P> + +<P> +The men of the outfit had little sleep during the first two days of the +drive. Nights found them hot, tired, and dusty, but with no prospect +of an uninterrupted sleep. Still there was no complaint. +</P> + +<P> +On the third night, the herd having been driven about forty miles, the +men began to show the effects of their sleepless vigil. +</P> + +<P> +They had bedded the herd down on a level between some hills, near a +rocky ford over which the waters of a little stream trickled. +</P> + +<P> +Buck and Andy were on their ponies, slowly circling the herd, singing +to the cattle, talking to them, using all their art and persuasion to +induce the herd to cease the restless "milling" that had begun with the +effort to halt for the night. +</P> + +<P> +Around the camp fire, which had been built at the cook's orders, were +Sanderson, Carter, Bud, Sogun, Soapy, and the Kid. Carter stood at a +little distance from the fire, watching the herd. +</P> + +<P> +"That's a damned nervous bunch we've got, boys," he called to the other +men. "I don't know when I've seen a flightier lot. It wouldn't take +much to start 'em!" +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have our troubles gettin' them through Devil's Hole," declared +Soapy. Soapy, so called because of his aversion to the valuable toilet +preparation so necessary to cleanliness, had a bland, ingenuous face +and perplexed, inquiring eyes. He was a capable man, however, despite +his pet aversion, and there was concern in his voice when he spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"That's why I wasn't in no hurry to push them too far tonight," +declared Carter. "I don't want to get anywhere near Devil's Hole in +the darkness, an' I want that place quite some miles away when I camp. +I seen a herd stride that quicksand on a run once, an' they wasn't +enough of them left to make a good stew. +</P> + +<P> +"If my judgment ain't wrong, an' we can keep them steppin' pretty +lively in the mornin', we'll get to Devil's Hole just about noon +tomorrow. Then we can ease them through, an' the rest ain't worth +talkin' about." +</P> + +<P> +"Devil's Hole is the only trail?" inquired Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Carter nodded. The others confirmed the nod. But Carter's desire for +an early start the next morning was denied. Bud and Sogun were on +guard duty on the morning shift, with the other men at breakfast, when +a dozen horsemen appeared from the morning haze westward and headed +directly for the camp fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Visitors," announced Soapy, who was first to see the riders. +</P> + +<P> +The Double A men got to their feet to receive the strangers. Sanderson +stepped out from the group slightly, and the horsemen came to a halt +near him. A big man, plainly the leader of the strangers, dismounted +and approached Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +The man radiated authority. There was a belligerent gleam in his eyes +as he looked Sanderson over, an inspection that caused Sanderson's face +to redden, so insolent was it. Behind him the big man's companions +watched, their faces expressionless, their eyes alert. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's runnin' this outfit?" demanded the man. +</P> + +<P> +"You're talkin' at the boss," said Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm the sheriff of Colfax County," said the other, shortly. "There's +been a complaint made about you. Bill Lester, of the Bar X, says +you've been pickin' up his cattle, crossin' his range, yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +This incident had happened before, both to Sanderson and to Carter. +They had insisted on the right of inspection themselves, when strange +herds had been driven through their ranges. +</P> + +<P> +"We want to look your stock over," said the sheriff. +</P> + +<P> +The request was reasonable, and Sanderson smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"That's goin' to hold us up a spell," he returned; "an' we was figurin' +on makin' Devil's Hole before dark. Hop in an' do your inspectin'." +</P> + +<P> +The big man motioned to his followers and the latter spurred to the +herd, the other being the last to leave the camp fire. +</P> + +<P> +For two hours the strangers threaded and weaved their horses through +the mass of cattle, while Sanderson and his men, impatient to begin the +morning drive, rode around the outskirts and watched them. +</P> + +<P> +"They're takin' a mighty good look," commented Carter at the end of the +two hours. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's face was set in a frown; he saw that the men were working +very slowly, and were conferring together longer than seemed necessary. +</P> + +<P> +At the end of three hours Carter spoke to Sanderson, his voice hoarse +with rage: +</P> + +<P> +"They're holdin' us up purposely. I'll be damned if I'm goin' to stand +for it!" +</P> + +<P> +"Easy there!" cautioned Sanderson. "I've never seen a sheriff that was +long on speed. They'll be showin' their hand pretty soon." +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour later the sheriff spurred his horse out of the press and +approached Sanderson. His face was grave. His men rode up also, and +halted their horses near him. The Double A men had advanced and stood +behind Sanderson and Carter. +</P> + +<P> +"There's somethin' wrong here!" he declared, scowling at Sanderson. +"It ain't the first time this dodge has been worked. A man gets up a +brand that's mighty like the brand on the range he's goin' to drive +through, an' he picks up cattle an' claims they're his. You claim your +brand is the Double A." He dismounted and with a branch of chaparral +drew a design in the sand. +</P> + +<P> +"This is the way you make your brand," he said, and he pointed out the +Double A brand: +</P> + +<A NAME="img-176"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-176.jpg" ALT="Double A and Bar X brands." BORDER="2" WIDTH="201" HEIGHT="176"> +<H4> +[Illustration: Double A and Bar X brands.] +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"That's an 'A' lookin' at it straight up an' from the right side, like +this, just reversin' it. But when you turn it this way, it's the Bar X: +</P> + +<P> +"An' there's a bunch of your steers with the brand on them that way. +I'll have to take charge of the herd until the thing is cleared up!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's lips took on a straight line; the color left his face. +</P> + +<P> +Here was authority—that law with which he had unaccountably clashed on +several occasions during his stay at the Double A. Yet he knew +that—as on those other occasions—the law was operating to the benefit +of his enemies. +</P> + +<P> +However, he did not now suspect Silverthorn and the others of setting +the law upon him. The Double A men might have been careless with their +branding, and it was unfortunate that he had been forced by the closing +of the Okar market to drive his cattle over a range upon which were +cattle bearing a brand so startlingly similar to his. +</P> + +<P> +His men were silent, watching him with set faces. He knew they would +stand behind him in any trouble that might occur. And yet he +hesitated, for he did not wish to force trouble. +</P> + +<P> +"How many Bar X cattle do you think are in the herd?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Mebbe a hundred—mebbe more." +</P> + +<P> +"How long will it take you to get Bill Lester here to prove his stock?" +</P> + +<P> +The big man laughed. "That's a question. Bill left last night for +Frisco; I reckon mebbe he'll be gone a month—mebbe more." +</P> + +<P> +The color surged back into Sanderson's face. He stiffened. +</P> + +<P> +"An' you expect to hold my herd here until Lester gets back?" he said, +slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yep," said the other, shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't do it!" declared Sanderson. "I know the law, an' you can't +hold a man's cattle that long without becomin' liable for damages." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll be liable," grinned the sheriff. "Before Bill left last night +he made out a bond for ninety thousand dollars—just what your cattle +are worth at the market price. If there's any damages comin' to you +you'll get them out of that." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a frame-up," growled Carter, at Sanderson's side. "It proves +itself. This guy, Lester, makes out a bond before we're within two +days' drive of his bailiwick. He's had information about us, an' is +plannin' to hold us up. You know what for. Silverthorn an' the bunch +has got a finger in the pie." +</P> + +<P> +That suspicion had also become a conviction to Sanderson. And yet, in +the person of the sheriff and his men, there was the law blocking his +progress toward the money he needed for the irrigation project. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think one hundred and fifty heads will cover the suspected +stock?" he questioned. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd put it at two hundred," returned the sheriff. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, then," said Sanderson slowly; "take your men an' cut out +the two hundred you think belong to Lester. I'll stop on the way back +an' have it out with you." +</P> + +<P> +The sheriff grinned. "That'll be square enough," he agreed. He turned +to the men who had come with him. "You boys cut out them cattle that +we looked at, an' head them toward the Bar X." When the men had gone +he turned to Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"I want you men to know that I'm actin' under orders. I don't know +what's eatin' Bill Lester—that ain't my business. But when I'm +ordered to do anything in my line of duty, why, it's got to be done. +Your friend has gassed some about a man named Silverthorn bein' at the +bottom of this thing. Mebbe he is—I ain't got no means of knowin'. +It appears to me that Bill ain't got no call to hog your whole bunch, +though, for I've never knowed Bill to raise more than fifteen hundred +head of cattle in one season. I'm takin' a chance on two hundred +coverin' his claims." +</P> + +<P> +It was after noon when the sheriff and his men started westward with +the suspected stock. +</P> + +<P> +Carter, fuming with rage, watched them go. Then he turned to Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Hell an' damnation! We'll hit Devil's Hole about dusk—if we start +now. What'll we do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Start," said Sanderson. "If we hang around here for another day +they'll trump up another fake charge an' clean us out!" +</P> + +<P> +The country through which they were forced to travel during the +afternoon was broken and rugged, and the progress of the herd was slow. +However, according to Carter, they made good time considering the +drawbacks they encountered, and late afternoon found them within a few +miles of the dreaded Devil's Hole. +</P> + +<P> +Carter counseled a halt until morning, and Sanderson yielded. After a +camping ground had been selected Carter and Sanderson rode ahead to +inspect Devil's Hole. +</P> + +<P> +The place was well named. It was a natural basin between some jagged +and impassable foothills, running between a gorge at each end. Both +ends of the basin constricted sharply at the gorges, resembling a wide, +narrow-necked bottle. +</P> + +<P> +A thin stream of water flowed on each side of a hard, rock trail that +ran straight through the center of the basin, and on both sides of the +trail a black bog of quicksand spread, covering the entire surface of +the land. +</P> + +<P> +Halfway through the basin, Sanderson halted Streak on the narrow trail +and looked at the treacherous sand. +</P> + +<P> +"I've seen quicksand, <I>an'</I> quicksand," he declared, "but this is the +bogs of the lot. If any steers get bogged down in there they wouldn't +be able to bellow more than once before they'd sink out of sight!" +</P> + +<P> +"There's a heap of them in there," remarked Carter. +</P> + +<P> +It was an eery place, and the echo of their voices resounded with +ever-increasing faintness. +</P> + +<P> +"I never go through this damned hell-hole without gettin' the creeps," +declared Carter. "An' I've got nerve enough, too, usually. There's +somethin' about the place that suggests the cattle an' men it's +swallowed. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you see that flat section there?" he indicated a spot about a +hundred yards wide and half as long, which looked like hard, baked +earth, black and dead. "That's where that herd I was tellin' you about +went in. The next morning you couldn't see hide nor hair of them. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a fooler for distance, too," he went on, "it's more than a mile +to that little spot of rock, that projectin' up, over there. College +professors have been here, lookin' at it, an' they say the thing is fed +from underground rivers, or springs, or somethin' that they can't even +guess. +</P> + +<P> +"One of them was tellin' Boss Edwards, over on the Cimarron, that that +rock point that you see projectin' up was the peak of a mountain, an' +that this narrow trail we're on is the back of a ridge that used to +stick up high an' mighty above a lot of other things. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't make it out, an' I don't try; it's here, an' that's all there +is to it. An' I ain't hangin' around it any longer than I have to." +</P> + +<P> +"A stampede—" began Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Gentlemen, shut up!" interrupted Carter. "If any cattle ever come +through here, stampedin', that herd wouldn't have enough left of it to +supply a road runner's breakfast!" +</P> + +<P> +They returned to the camp, silent and anxious. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DEVIL'S HOLE +</H3> + +<P> +Sanderson took his turn standing watch with the other men. The boss of +a trail herd cannot be a shirker, and Sanderson did his full share of +the work. +</P> + +<P> +Tonight he had the midnight shift. At two o'clock he would ride back +to camp, awaken his successor, and turn in to sleep until morning. +</P> + +<P> +Because of the proximity of the herd to Devil's Hole an extra man had +been told off for the nightwatch, and Soapy and the Kid were doing duty +with Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +Riding in a big circle, his horse walking, Sanderson could see the +dying embers of the camp fire glowing like a big firefly in the +distance. A line of trees fringing the banks of the river near the +camp made a dark background for the tiny, leaping sparks that were shot +up out of the fire, and the branches waving in the hazy light from +countless coldly glittering stars were weird and foreboding. +</P> + +<P> +Across the river the ragged edges of the rock buttes that flanked the +water loomed somberly; beyond them the peaks of some mountains, miles +distant, glowed with the subdued radiance of a moon that was just +rising. +</P> + +<P> +Back in the direction from which the herd had come the ridges and +depressions stretched, in irregular corrugations, as far as Sanderson +could see. Southward were more mountains, dark and mysterious. +</P> + +<P> +Riding his monotonous circles, Sanderson looked at his watch, his face +close to it, for the light from the star-haze was very dim. He was on +the far side of the herd, toward Devil's Hole, and he was chanting the +refrain from a simple cowboy song as he looked at the watch. +</P> + +<P> +The hands of the timepiece pointed to "one." Thus he still had an hour +to stand watch before awakening the nest man. He placed the watch is a +pocket, shook the reins over Streak's neck and spoke to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Seems like old times to be ridin' night-watch, eh, Streak?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +The words had hardly escaped his lips when there arose a commotion from +the edge of the herd nearest the corrugated land that lay between the +herd and the trail back to the Double A. +</P> + +<P> +On a ridge near the cattle a huge, black, grotesque shape was clearly +outlined. It was waving to and fro, as though it were some +giant-winged monster of the night trying to rise from the earth. +Sanderson could hear the flapping noise it made; it carried to him with +the sharp resonance of a pistol shot. +</P> + +<P> +"Damnation!" he heard himself say. "Some damned fool is wavin' a tarp!" +</P> + +<P> +He jerked Streak up shortly, intending to ride for the point where the +tarpaulin was being waved before it was too late. But as he wheeled +Streak he realized that the havoc had been wrought, for the cattle +nearest him were on their feet, snorting with fright—a sensation that +had been communicated to them by contact with their fellows in the mass. +</P> + +<P> +At the point where the commotion had occurred was confusion. Sanderson +saw steers rising on their hind legs, throwing their forelegs high in +the air; they were bellowing their fright and charging against the +steers nearest them, frenziedly trying to escape the danger that seemed +to menace them. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson groaned, for the entire herd was on the move! Near at hand a +dozen steers shot out of the press and lumbered past him, paying no +attention to his shouts. He fired his pistol in the face of one, and +though the animal tried to turn back, frightened by the flash, the +press of numbers behind it, already moving forward, forced it again to +wheel and break for freedom. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson heard the sounds of pistol shots from the direction of the +camp fire; he heard other shots from the direction of the back trail; +he saw the forms of men on horses darting here and there on the +opposite side of the herd from where he rode. +</P> + +<P> +From the left side of the herd came another rider—Soapy. He tore +ahead of the vanguard of running steers, shooting his pistol in their +faces, shouting profanely at them, lashing them with his quirt. +</P> + +<P> +A first batch slipped by him. He spurred his horse close to +Sanderson—who was trying to head off still others of the herd that +were determined to follow the first—and cursed loudly: +</P> + +<P> +"Who in hell waved that tarp?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson had no time to answer. A score of steers bolted straight for +him, and he groaned again when he saw that the whole herd was rushing +forward in a mass. A common impulse moved them; they were frenzied +with fright and terror. +</P> + +<P> +It was not the first stampede that Sanderson had been in, and he knew +its dangers. Yet he grimly fought with the cattle, Streak leaping here +and there in answer to the knee-pressure of his master, horse and rider +looking like knight and steed of some fabled romance, embattled with a +huge monster with thousands of legs. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson caught a glimpse of several riders tearing toward him from +the direction of the camp, and he knew that Carter and the others were +trying to reach him in the hope of being able to stem the torrent of +rushing cattle. +</P> + +<P> +But the movement had already gone too far, and the speed of the +frenzied steers was equal to the best running that Streak could do. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson saw that all effort to stop them would be hopeless, and aware +of the danger of remaining at the head of the flying mass, he veered +Streak off, heading him toward the side, out of the press. +</P> + +<P> +As he rode he caught a glimpse of Soapy. The latter had the same +notion that was in Sanderson's mind, for he was leaning over his pony's +mane, riding hard to get out of the path taken by the herd. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson pulled Streak up slightly, watching Soapy until he was +certain the latter would reach the edge, then he gave Streak the reins +again. +</P> + +<P> +The pause, though, robbed Sanderson of his chance to escape. He had +been cutting across the head of the herd at a long angle when watching +Soapy, and had been traveling with the cattle also; and now he saw that +the big level was behind him, that he and the cattle were in an +ever-narrowing valley which led directly into the neck of Devil's Hole. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson now gave up all hope of reaching the side, and devoted his +attention to straight, hard riding. There were a few steers ahead of +him, and he had a faint hope that if he could get ahead of them he +might be able to direct their course through Devil's Hole and thus +avert the calamity that threatened. +</P> + +<P> +Grimly, silently, riding as he had never ridden before, he urged Streak +forward. One by one he passed the steers in his path, and just before +he reached the entrance to Devil's Hole he passed the foremost steer. +</P> + +<P> +Glancing back as Streak thundered through the neck of the Hole, +Sanderson saw Soapy coming, not more than a hundred yards behind. +Soapy had succeeded in getting clear of the great body of steers, but +there were a few still running ahead of him, and he was riding +desperately to pass them. +</P> + +<P> +Just as Sanderson looked back he saw Soapy's horse stumble. He +recovered, ran a few steps and stumbled again. This time he went to +one knee. He tried desperately to rise, fell again, and went down, +neighing shrilly in terror. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson groaned and tried to pull Streak up. But the animal refused +to heed the pull on the reins and plunged forward, unheeding. +</P> + +<P> +There would have been no opportunity to save Soapy, even if Streak had +obeyed his master. The first few steers at the head of the mass +swerved around the fallen man and his horse, for they could see him. +</P> + +<P> +The thousands behind, though, running blindly, in the grip of the +nameless terror that had seized them, saw nothing, heeded nothing, and +they swept, in a smother of dust, straight over the spot where Soapy +and his horse had been. +</P> + +<P> +White-lipped, catching his breath in gasps over the horror, Sanderson +again turned his back to the herd and raced on. The same accident +might happen to him, but there was no time to pick and choose his trail. +</P> + +<P> +Behind him, with the thundering noise of a devastating avalanche, the +herd came as though nothing had happened. The late moon that had been +touching the peaks of the far mountains now lifted a rim over them, +flooding the world with a soft radiance. Sanderson had reached the +center of the trail, through Devil's Hole, before he again looked back. +</P> + +<P> +What he saw caused him to pull Streak up with a jerk. The head of the +herd had burst through the entrance to the Hole, and, opening fanlike, +had gone headlong into the quicksand. +</P> + +<P> +Fascinated with the magnitude of the catastrophe, Sanderson paid no +attention to the few steers that went past him, snorting wildly; he sat +rigid on his horse and watched the destruction of the herd. +</P> + +<P> +A great mass of steers had gone into the quicksand at the very edge of +the Hole; they formed a foothold for many others that, forced on by the +impetus of the entire mass, crushed them down, trampled them further +into the sand, and plunged ahead to their own destruction. +</P> + +<P> +It was a continually recurring incident. Maddened, senseless, +unreasoning in their panic, the mass behind came on, a sea of tossing +horns, a maelstrom of swirling, blinding dust and heaving bodies into +the mire; the struggling, enmeshed bodies of the vanguard forming a +living floor, over which each newcomer swept to oblivion. +</P> + +<P> +Feeling his utter helplessness, Sanderson continued to watch. There +was nothing he could do; he was like a mere atom of sand on a seashore, +with the storm waves beating over him. +</P> + +<P> +The scene continued a little longer. Sanderson saw none of the men of +the outfit. The dust died down, settling like a pall over the neck of +the Hole. A few steers, chancing to come straight ahead through the +neck of the Hole, and thus striking the hard, narrow trail that ran +through the center, continued to pass Sanderson. They were still in +the grip of a frenzy; and at the far end of the Hole he saw a number of +them bogged down. They had not learned the lesson of the first +entrance. +</P> + +<P> +At length it seemed to be over. Sanderson saw one steer, evidently +with some conception of the calamity penetrating its consciousness, +standing near him on the trail, moving its head from side to side and +snorting as it looked at its unfortunate fellows. The animal seemed to +be unaware of Sanderson's presence until Streak moved uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +Then the steer turned to Sanderson, its red eyes ablaze. As though it +blamed him for the catastrophe, it charged him. Sanderson drew his +pistol and shot it, with Streak rearing and plunging. +</P> + +<P> +Roars of terror and bellows of despair assailed Sanderson's ears from +all directions. Groans, almost human, came from the mired mass on both +sides of the trail. Hundreds of the cattle had already sunk from +sight, hundreds were sucked partly down, and other hundreds—thousands, +it seemed—were struggling in plain view, with only portions of their +bodies under. +</P> + +<P> +Still others—the last to pour through the throat of the gorge—were +clambering out, using the sinking bodies of others to assist them; +Sanderson could see a few more choking the far end of the Hole. +</P> + +<P> +How many had escaped he did not know, nor care. The dramatic finish of +Soapy was vivid, and concern for the other members of the outfit was +uppermost in his mind. +</P> + +<P> +He rode the back trail slowly. The destruction of his herd had not +occupied ten minutes, it seemed. Dazed with the suddenness of it, and +with a knowledge of what portended, he came to the spot where Soapy's +horse had stumbled and looked upon what was left of the man. His face +dead white, his hands trembling, he spread his blanket over the spot. +He had formed an affection for Soapy. +</P> + +<P> +Mounting Streak, he resumed his ride toward the camp. A dead silence +filled the wide level from which the stampede had started—a silence +except for the faint bellowing that still reached his ears from the +direction of the Hole. +</P> + +<P> +Half a mile from where he had found the pitiable remnants of Soapy he +came upon Carter. The range boss was lying prone on his back, his body +apparently unmarred. His horse was standing near him, grazing. Carter +had not been in the path of the herd. +</P> + +<P> +What, then, had happened to him? +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson dismounted and went to his knees beside the man. At first he +could see no sign of anything that might have caused death—for Carter +was undoubtedly dead—and already stiffening! Then he saw a red patch +staining the man's shirt, and he examined it. Carter had been shot. +Sanderson stood up and looked around. There was no one in sight. He +mounted Streak and began to ride toward the camp, for he felt that +Carter's death had resulted from an accident. One explanation was that +a stray bullet had killed Carter—in the excitement of a stampede the +men were apt to shoot wildly at refractory steers. +</P> + +<P> +But the theory of accident did not abide. Halfway between Carter and +the camp Sanderson came upon Bud. Bud was lying in a huddled heap. He +had been shot from behind. Later, continuing his ride to camp, +Sanderson came upon the other men. +</P> + +<P> +He found the Kid and the cook near the chuck wagon, Sogun and Andy were +lying near the fire, whose last faint embers were sputtering feebly; +Buck was some distance away, but he, too, was dead! +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson went from one to the other of the men, to make a final +examination. Bending over Sogun, he heard the latter groan, and in an +instant Sanderson was racing to the river for water. +</P> + +<P> +He bathed Sogun's wound—which was low on the left side, under the +heart, and, after working over him for five or ten minutes, giving him +whisky from a flask he found in the chuck wagon, and talking to the man +in an effort to force him into consciousness, he was rewarded by seeing +Sogun open his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Sogun looked perplexedly at Sanderson, whose face was close. +</P> + +<P> +There was recognition in Sogun's eyes—the calm of reason was swimming +in them. +</P> + +<P> +He half smiled. "So you wriggled out of it, boss, eh? It was a +clean-up, for sure. I seen them get the other boys. I emptied my gun, +an' was fillin' her again when they got me." +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" demanded Sanderson sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"Dale an' his gang. They was a bunch of them—twenty, mebbe. I heard +them while I was layin' here. They thought they'd croaked me, an' they +wasn't botherin' with me. +</P> + +<P> +"One of them waved a blanket—or a tarp. I couldn't get what it was. +Anyway, they waved somethin' an' got the herd started. I heard them +talkin' about seein' Soapy go under, right at the start. An' you. +Dale said he saw you go down, an' it wasn't no use to look for you. +They sure played hell, boss." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson did not answer. +</P> + +<P> +"If you'd lift my head a little higher, boss, I'd feel easier, mebbe," +Sogun smiled feebly. "An' if it ain't too much trouble I'd like a +little more of that water—I'm powerful thirsty." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson went to the river, and when he returned Sogun was stretched +out on his back, his face upturned with a faint smile upon it. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson knelt beside him, lifted his head and spoke to him. But +Sogun did not answer. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson rose and stood with bowed head for a long time, looking down +at Sogun. Then he mounted Streak and headed him into the moonlit space +that lay between the camp and the Double A ranchhouse. +</P> + +<P> +It was noon the next day when Sanderson returned with a dozen Double A +men. After they had labored for two hours the men mounted their horses +and began the return trip, one of them driving the chuck wagon. +</P> + +<P> +All of the men were bitter against Dale for what had happened, and +several of them were for instant reprisal. +</P> + +<P> +But Sanderson stared grimly at them. +</P> + +<P> +"There ain't any witnesses," he said, "not a damned one! My word don't +go in Okar. Besides, it's my game, an' I'm goin' to play her a lone +hand—as far as Dale is concerned." +</P> + +<P> +"You goin' to round up what's left of the cattle?" asked a puncher. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson answered shortly: "Not any. There wasn't enough left to make +a fuss about, an' Dale can have them." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MAN BORROWS MONEY +</H3> + +<P> +The incident of Devil's Hole had changed the character of the fighting +between Sanderson and Dale. Dale and his fellow-conspirators had +deserted that law upon which, until the incident of Devil's Hole, they +had depended. They had resorted to savagery, to murder; they had +committed themselves to a course that left Sanderson no choice except +to imitate them. +</P> + +<P> +And Sanderson was willing. More, he was anxious. He had respected the +law; and still respected it. But he had never respected the law +represented by his three enemies. He was determined to avenge the +murder of his men, but in his own time and in his own way. +</P> + +<P> +His soul was in the grip of a mighty rage against Dale and the others; +he longed to come into personal contact with them—to feel them writhe +and squirm in his clutch. And had he been the free agent he had always +been until his coming to the Double A he would have gone straight to +Okar, thus yielding to the blood lust that swelled his veins. +</P> + +<P> +But he could not permit his inclinations to ruin the girl he had +promised to protect. He could kill Dale, Silverthorn, and Maison quite +easily. But he would have no defense for the deed, and the law would +force him to desert Mary Bransford. +</P> + +<P> +For an entire day following the return of himself and his men from the +scene of the stampede Sanderson fought a terrific mental battle. He +said nothing to Mary Bransford, after giving her the few bare facts +that described the destruction of the herd. But the girl watched him +anxiously, suspecting something of the grim thoughts that tortured him, +and at dinner she spoke to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Deal," she said, "don't be rash. Those men have done a lawless thing, +but they still have the power to invoke the law against you." +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't goin' to be lawless—yet," he grinned. +</P> + +<P> +But Sanderson was yielding to an impulse that had assailed him. His +manner betrayed him to Owen, at least, who spoke to Mary about it. +</P> + +<P> +"He's framing up something—or he's got it framed up and is ready to +act," he told the girl. "He has got that calm during the past few +hours that I feel like I'm in the presence of an iceberg when I'm near +him." +</P> + +<P> +Whatever was on Sanderson's mind he kept to himself. But late that +night, when the ranchhouse was dark, and a look through one of the +windows of the bunkhouse showed Sanderson there were only two men +awake—and they playing cards sleepily—he threw saddle and bridle on +Streak and rode away into the inky darkness of the basin. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Shortly after dusk on the same night Silverthorn, Dale, and Maison were +sitting at a table in Maison's private office in the bank building. +They, too, were playing cards. +</P> + +<P> +But their thoughts were not on the cards. Elation filled their hearts. +</P> + +<P> +Dale was dealing, but it was plain that he took no interest in the +game. At last, with a gesture of disgust, he threw the cards face up +on the table and smiled at the others. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the use?" he said. "I keep thinking of what happened at +Devil's Hole. We ought to have been sure that we finished the job, an' +we would have been sure if we hadn't known that that damned Colfax +sheriff was hanging around somewhere. +</P> + +<P> +"He took two hundred head from Sanderson—when he ought to have taken +the whole damn herd—which he'd orders to do. And then, instead of +driving them direct to Lester's he made camp just on the other side of +Devil's Hole—three or four miles, Morley said. I don't know what for, +except that maybe he's decided to give Sanderson the steers he'd taken +from him—the damned fool! You've got to break him, Maison, for +disobeying orders!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll attend to him," said Maison. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the reason we didn't go through Devil's Hole to see what had +become of Sanderson," resumed Dale. "We was afraid of running into the +sheriff, and him, being the kind of a fool he is, would likely have +wanted to know what had happened. I thought it better to sneak off +without letting him see us than to do any explaining." +</P> + +<P> +Silverthorn looked at his watch. "Morley and the others ought to be +here pretty soon," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"They're late as it is," grumbled Dale. "I ought to have gone myself." +</P> + +<P> +They resumed their card-playing. An hour or so later there came a +knock on the door of the bank—a back door—and Dale opened it to admit +Morley—the big man who had drawn a pistol on Sanderson when he had +tried to take Barney Owen out of the City Hotel barroom. +</P> + +<P> +Morley was alone. He stepped inside without invitation and grinned at +the others. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no sign of Sanderson. Someone had been there an' planted the +guys we salivated—an' the guy which went down in the run. We seen his +horse layin' there, cut to ribbons. It's likely Sanderson went into +the sand ahead of the herd—they was crowdin' him pretty close when we +seen them runnin'." +</P> + +<P> +"You say them guys was planted?" said Dale. "Then Sanderson got out of +it. He would—if anyone could, for he was riding like a devil on a +cyclone when I saw him. He's got back, and took his men to Devil's +Hole." +</P> + +<P> +Maison laughed. "We'll say he got out of it. What of it? He's broke. +And if the damned court would get a move on with that evidence we've +sent over to prove that he isn't a Bransford, we'd have the Double A +inside of a week!" +</P> + +<P> +Dale got up, grinning and looking at his watch. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, gentlemen, I'm hitting the breeze to the Bar D for some sleep. +See you tomorrow." +</P> + +<P> +Dale went out and mounted his horse. But he did not go straight home, +as he had declared he would. After striking the neck of the basin he +swerved his horse and rode northeastward toward Ben Nyland's cabin. +</P> + +<P> +For he had heard that day in Okar that Ben Nyland had taken a train +eastward that morning, to return on the afternoon of the day following. +And during the time Dale had been talking with Maison; and Silverthorn, +and playing cards with them, he thought often of Peggy Nyland. +</P> + +<P> +Silverthorn and Morley did not remain long in Maison's private room in +the bank building. +</P> + +<P> +Morley had promised to play cards with some of his men in the City +Hotel barroom, and he joined them there, while Silverthorn went to his +rooms in the upper story of the station. +</P> + +<P> +After the departure of the others, Maison sat for a long time at the +table in the private room, making figures on paper. +</P> + +<P> +Maison had exacted from the world all the luxuries he thought his +pampered body desired. His financial career would not have borne +investigation, but Maison's operations had been so smooth and subtle +that he had left no point at which an enemy could begin an +investigation. +</P> + +<P> +But years of questionable practice had had an inevitable effect upon +Maison. Outwardly, he had hardened, but only Maison knew of the many +devils his conscience created for him. +</P> + +<P> +Continued communion with the devils of conscience had made a coward of +Maison. When at last he got up from the table he glanced +apprehensively around the room; and after he had put out the light and +climbed the stairs to his rooms above the bank, he was trembling. +</P> + +<P> +Maison had often dealt crookedly with his fellow-men, but never, until +the incident of Devil's Hole, had he deliberately planned murder. Thus +tonight Maison's conscience had more ghastly evidence to confront him +with, and conscience is a pitiless retributive agent. +</P> + +<P> +Maison poured himself a generous drink of whisky from a bottle on a +sideboard before he got into bed, but the story told him by Dale and +the others of the terrible scene at Devil's Hole—remained so staringly +vivid in his thoughts that whisky could not dim it. +</P> + +<P> +He groaned and pulled the covers over his head, squirming and twisting, +for the night was warm and there was little air stirring. +</P> + +<P> +After a while Maison sat up. It seemed to him that he had been in bed +for an age, though actually the time was not longer than an hour. +</P> + +<P> +It had been late when he had left the room downstairs. And now he +listened for sounds that would tell him that Okar's citizens were still +busy with their pleasures. +</P> + +<P> +But no sound came from the street. Maison yearned for company, for he +felt unaccountably depressed and morbid. It was as though some danger +impended and instinct was warning him of it. +</P> + +<P> +But in the dead silence of Okar there was no suggestion of sound. It +must have been in the ghostly hours between midnight and the +dawn—though a cold terror that had gripped Maison would not let him +get up to look at the clock that ticked monotonously on the sideboard. +</P> + +<P> +He lay, clammy with sweat, every sense strained and acute, listening. +For, from continued contemplation of imaginary dangers he had worked +himself into a frenzy which would have turned into a conviction of real +danger at the slightest sound near him. +</P> + +<P> +He expected sound to come; he waited for it, his ears attuned, his +senses alert. +</P> + +<P> +And at last sound came. +</P> + +<P> +It was a mere creak—such a sound as a foot might make on a stairway. +And it seemed to have come from the stairs leading to Maison's rooms. +</P> + +<P> +He did not hear it again, though, and he might have fought off the new +terror that was gripping him, if at that instant he had not remembered +that when leaving the lower room he had forgotten to lock the rear +door—the door through which Morley had entered earlier in the evening; +the door through which Silverthorn had departed. +</P> + +<P> +He had not locked that door, and that noise on the stairs might have +been made by some night prowler. +</P> + +<P> +Aroused to desperation by his fears he started to get out of bed with +the intention of getting the revolver that lay in a drawer in the +sideboard. +</P> + +<P> +His feet were on the floor as he sat on the edge of the bed preparatory +to standing, when he saw the door at the head of the stairs slowly +swing open and a figure of a man appear in the opening. +</P> + +<P> +The light in the room was faint—a mere luminous star-mist—hut Maison +could see clearly the man's face. He stiffened, his hands gripping the +bedclothing, as he muttered hoarsely: +</P> + +<P> +"Sanderson!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson stepped into the room and closed the door. The heavy +six-shooter in his hand was at his hip, the long barrel horizontal, the +big muzzle gaping forebodingly into Maison's face. There was a cold, +mirthless grin on Sanderson's face, but it seemed to Maison that the +grin was the wanton expression of murder lust. +</P> + +<P> +He knew, without Sanderson telling him, that if he moved, or made the +slightest outcry, Sanderson would kill him. +</P> + +<P> +Therefore he made neither move nor sound, but sat there, rigid and +gasping for breath, awaiting the other's pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson came close to him, speaking in a vibrant whisper: +</P> + +<P> +"Anyone in the house with you? If you speak above a whisper I'll blow +you apart!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm alone!" gasped Maison. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson laughed lowly. "You must have known I was comin'. Did you +expect me? Well—" when Maison did not answer—"you left the rear door +open. Obliged to you. +</P> + +<P> +"You know what I came for? No?" His voice was still low and vibrant. +"I came to talk over what happened at Devil's Hole." +</P> + +<P> +Maison's eyes bulged with horror. +</P> + +<P> +"I see you know about it, all right. I'm glad of that. Seven men +murdered; three thousand head of cattle gone. Mebbe they didn't all go +into the quicksand—I don't know. What I do know is this: they've got +to be paid for—men an' cattle. Understand? Cattle an' men." +</P> + +<P> +The cold emphasis he laid on the "and" made a shiver run over the +banker. +</P> + +<P> +"Money will pay for cattle," went on Sanderson. "I'll collect a man +for every man you killed at Devil's Hole." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed in feline humor when Maison squirmed at the words. +</P> + +<P> +"You think your life is more valuable than the life of any one of the +men you killed at Devil's Hole, eh? Soapy was worth a hundred like +you! An' Sogun—an' all the rest! Understand? They were real men, +doin' some good in the world. I'm tellin' you this so you'll know that +I don't think you amount to a hell of a lot, an' that I wouldn't suffer +a heap with remorse if you'd open your trap for one little peep an' I'd +have to blow your guts out!" +</P> + +<P> +A devil of conscience had finally visited Maison—a devil in the flesh. +For all the violent passions were aflame in Sanderson's face, repressed +but needing only provocation to loose them. +</P> + +<P> +Maison knew what impended. But he succeeded in speaking, though the +words caught, stranglingly, in his throat: +</P> + +<P> +"W-what do you—want?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ninety thousand dollars. The market price for three thousand head of +cattle." +</P> + +<P> +"There isn't that much in the vaults!" protested Maison in a gasping +whisper. "We never keep that amount of money on hand." +</P> + +<P> +He would have said more, but he saw Sanderson's grin become bitter; saw +the arm holding the six-shooter stiffen suggestively. +</P> + +<P> +Maison raised his hands in horror. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait!" he said, pleadingly. "I'll see. Good God, man, keep the +muzzle of that gun away!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ninety thousand will do it," Sanderson grimly told him, "ninety +thousand. No less. You can ask that God you call on so reckless to +have ninety thousand in the vault when you go to look for it, right +away. +</P> + +<P> +"Get up an' dress!" he commanded. +</P> + +<P> +He stood silently watching the banker as the latter got into his +clothing. Then, with a wave of his gun in the direction of the stairs +he ordered Maison to precede him. He kept close to the banker in the +darkness of the rooms through which they passed, and finally when they +reached the little room into which opened the big doors of the +vault—embedded in solid masonry—Sanderson again spoke: +</P> + +<P> +"I want it in bills of large denomination." The banker was on his +knees before the doors, working at the combination, and he looked +around in silent objection at Sanderson's voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Big ones, I said," repeated the latter. "You've got them. I was in +Silverthorn's rooms some hours ago, lookin' over his books an' things. +I saw a note there, showin' that he'd deposited fifty thousand here the +day before yesterday. The note said it was cash. You'll have forty +thousand more. If you ain't got it you'll wish you had." +</P> + +<P> +Maison had it. He drew it out in packages—saffron-hued notes that he +passed back to Sanderson reluctantly. When he had passed back the +exact amount he looked around. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson ordered him to close the doors, and with the banker preceding +him they returned to the upper room, where Sanderson distributed the +money over his person securely, the banker watching him. +</P> + +<P> +When Sanderson had finished, he again spoke. There was elation in his +eyes, but they still were aflame with the threat of death and violence. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's the biggest an' most honest man in town?" he said, "the one man +that the folks here always think of when they're in trouble an' want a +square deal? Every town always has such a man. Who is he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Judge Graney," said Maison. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," declared Sanderson. "We'll go see Judge Graney. You're +goin' to lead me to the place where he lives. We're goin' to have him +witness that you've paid me ninety thousand dollars for the stock you +destroyed—my cattle. He's goin' to be all the law I'm goin' to depend +on—in this case. After a while—if you sneaks go too strong—I'll let +loose a little of my own law—the kind I've showed you tonight. +</P> + +<P> +"You're goin' to Judge Graney's place, an' you're goin' to sign a paper +showin' you paid me the money for my cattle. You ain't goin' to make +any noise on the way, or to Judge Graney. You're goin' to do the +talkin' an' tell Graney that you want him to witness the deal. An' +you're goin' to do it without him gettin' wise that I'm forcin' you. +You'll have to do some actin', an' if you fall down on this job you'll +never have to act again! Get goin'!" +</P> + +<P> +Maison was careful not to make any noise as he went down the stairs; he +was equally careful when he reached the street. +</P> + +<P> +In a short time, Sanderson walking close behind him, he halted at a +door of a private dwelling. He knocked on the door, and a short, squat +man appeared in the opening, holding a kerosene lamp in one hand and a +six-shooter in the other. +</P> + +<P> +He recognized Maison instantly and politely asked him and his visitor +inside. There Maison stated his business, and the judge, though +revealing some surprise that so big a transaction should be concluded +at so uncommon an hour, attested the paper made out by Maison, and +signed the receipt for ninety thousand dollars written by Sanderson and +given to the banker. Then, still followed by Sanderson, the banker +went out. +</P> + +<P> +There was no word spoken by either of the men until they again reached +the bank building. Then it was Sanderson who spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all, Maison," he said. "Talk, if you must—mebbe it'll keep +you from explodin'. But if there's any more meddlin' with my +affairs—by you—I'm comin' for you again. An' the next time it'll be +to make you pay for my men!" +</P> + +<P> +He slipped behind the bank building and was gone. A little later, +still standing where Sanderson had left him, he saw the Double A man +riding swiftly across country toward the neck of the basin. +</P> + +<P> +Maison went slowly upstairs, lighted a lamp, and looked at his +reflection in a glass. He sighed, blew out the light, got into bed and +stretched out in relief, feeling that he had got out of the affair +cheaply enough, considering all things. +</P> + +<P> +And remembering what Sanderson had told him about returning, he +determined that if Judge Graney said nothing of the occurrence he would +never mention it. For he did not want Sanderson to pay him another +visit. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MAN FROM THE ABYSS +</H3> + +<P> +At about the time Sanderson was entering Okar, Alva Dale was letting +himself into the door of his office at the Bar D ranchhouse. Dale's +thoughts, because of the sensuous longing with which he had always +looked upon Peggy Nyland, had become abysmal. Silverthorn had warned +him that the dragging of a woman into the plot would be fatal to their +aims, but Dale had paid no heed to Silverthorn. During the day he had +kept thinking of the girl until now he could no longer restrain +himself. His face was bestial with passion as he entered his office. +</P> + +<P> +Inside the office he lighted a lamp and seated himself at his desk. +There, with a pair of shears and a piece of black cloth, he fashioned a +mask. He donned the mask and peered at himself in a mirror, grinning +with satisfaction over the reflection. Had he not known himself for +Alva Dale he would have been fooled by the covering. +</P> + +<P> +Working swiftly, he changed his clothes. Then, after again looking at +his reflection, he put out the light, stepped outside, locked the door, +and mounted his horse. +</P> + +<P> +Riding a ridge above a shallow arroyo he came upon a little level near +a grove of cottonwood trees. He circled one side of the grove, and in +a clearing he saw the Nyland cabin. +</P> + +<P> +He had visited the cabin before, but never had he felt about it as he +felt at this moment. There had always been the presence of Ben Nyland +to dampen the romantic thoughts that had beset him—for there had been +a time when—if Peggy Nyland had been willing—he would have married +her. +</P> + +<P> +That time had passed. Dale grinned wickedly as he dismounted and +walked forward. +</P> + +<P> +There was no light showing in any of the windows, and Dale stepped +stealthily to the rear door and knocked. +</P> + +<P> +There was no answer; and Dale repeated the blows. Then he grinned With +delight as he heard Peggy's voice, high-pitched and startled, saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Who's there?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's me—Sanderson," he returned. "I've come for you!" +</P> + +<P> +"What for?" This time there was alarm in the girl's voice, and Dale +heard her walk across the floor and halt at the door. He mentally +visualized her, standing there, one ear against the panel. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't they tell you?" he said in a hoarse voice, into which he +succeeded in getting much pretended anger. "Why, I sent a man over +here with word." +</P> + +<P> +"Word about what?" +</P> + +<P> +Dale heard the girl fumbling at the fastenings of the door, and he knew +that his imitation of Sanderson's voice had deceived her. +</P> + +<P> +"Word that Ben was hurt," he lied. "The east train hit him as it was +pullin' in. He's bad off, but the doc says he'll come around if he +gets good nursin', an' that's why I've come——" +</P> + +<P> +While he was talking the door burst open and Peggy appeared in the +opening, her eyes wide with concern and eagerness. +</P> + +<P> +She had heard Dale's first knock on the door, and knowing it was +someone for her—perhaps Ben returning—she had begun to dress, +finishing—except for her shoes and stockings—by the time she opened +the door. +</P> + +<P> +In the dim light she did not at first see the mask on Dale's face, and +she was insistently demanding to be told just where Ben's injuries +were, when she detected the fraud. +</P> + +<P> +Then she gasped and stepped back, trying to close the door. She would +have succeeded had not Dale thrust a foot into the aperture. +</P> + +<P> +She stamped at his foot with her bare one ineffectually. Dale laughed +at her futile efforts to keep him from opening the door. He struck an +arm through the aperture, leaned his weight against the door, and +pushed it open. +</P> + +<P> +She was at the other side of the room when he entered, having dodged +behind a table. He made a rush for her, but she evaded him, keeping +the table between them. +</P> + +<P> +There was no word said. The girl's breath was coming in great gasps +from the fright and shock she had received, but Dale's was shrill and +laboring from the strength of his passions. +</P> + +<P> +Reason left him as they circled around the table, and with a curse he +overturned it so that it rolled and crashed out of the way, leaving her +with no obstacle behind which to find shelter. +</P> + +<P> +She ran toward the door, but Dale caught her at the threshold. She +twisted and squirmed in his grasp, scratching him and clawing at his +face in an access of terror, and one hand finally caught the black mask +covering and tore it from his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Alva Dale!" she shrieked. "Oh, you beast!" +</P> + +<P> +Fighting with redoubled fury she forced him against one of the door +jambs, still scratching and clawing. Dale grasped one hand, but the +free one reached his face, the fingers sinking into the flesh and +making a deep gash in his cheek. +</P> + +<P> +The pain made a demon of Dale, and he struck her. She fell, +soundlessly, her head striking the edge of a chair with a deadening, +thudding crash. +</P> + +<P> +Standing in the doorway looking down at her, the faint, outdoor light +shining on her face and revealing its ghastly whiteness, Dale suffered +a quick reaction. He had not meant to strike so hard, he told himself; +he hoped he had not killed her. +</P> + +<P> +Kneeling beside her he felt her pulse and her head. The flesh under +his hand was cold as marble; the pulse—if there was any—was not +perceptible. Dale examined the back of her head, where it had struck +the chair. He got up, his face ashen and convulsed with horror. +</P> + +<P> +"Good Lord!" he muttered hoarsely, "she's dead—or dying. I've done it +now!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE GUNMAN +</H3> + +<P> +Dale's first decision was to leave Peggy in the cabin. But she might +recover, and she had recognized him. Ben Nyland would exact stern +vengeance for the outrage. +</P> + +<P> +Dale stood for some seconds in the doorway, his brain working rapidly. +Then he leaped inside the cabin, took the girl up in his arms, carried +her to his horse, mounted, and with the limp, sagging body in his arms +rode into the night. +</P> + +<P> +Reaction, also, was working on Banker Maison. Though more than an hour +had passed since he had got into bed, following the departure of his +nocturnal visitor, he had not slept a wink. His brain revolving the +incidents of the night—it had been a positive panorama of vivid +horrors. +</P> + +<P> +The first gray streak of dawn was splitting the horizon when he gave it +up, clambered out of bed and poured a generous drink from the bottle on +the sideboard. +</P> + +<P> +"God, a man needs something like this to brace him up after such a +night!" he declared. +</P> + +<P> +He took a second drink from the bottle, and a third. In the act of +pouring a fourth he heard a sound at the back door, and with a gulp of +terror he remembered that he had again forgotten to lock it. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson undoubtedly was returning! +</P> + +<P> +Again Maison's body became clammy with a cold sweat. He stood in the +room near the sideboard, tremblingly listening. For again there was a +step on the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +When he saw the door begin to open his knees knocked together, but +there entered, not the dread apparition he expected, but Alva Dale, +with the limp form of a woman in his arms! +</P> + +<P> +The sudden breaking of the tension, and astonishment over what he saw, +made Maison's voice hoarse. +</P> + +<P> +"What's up now?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Hell!" muttered Dale. He told Maison the whole story—with some +reservations. +</P> + +<P> +"I was sparkin' her—like I've been doin' for a long time. We had a +tiff over—over somethin'—an' I pushed her. She fell over, hittin' +her head." +</P> + +<P> +"You damned fool!" snapped Maison. Dale was not Sanderson, and Maison +felt the authority of his position. "This is Peggy Nyland, isn't it? +She's the girl Silverthorn was telling me about—that you're sweet on. +You damned fool. Can't you let the women alone when we're in a deal +like this! You'll ruin the whole thing! Get her out of here!" +</P> + +<P> +Dale eyed the other sullenly, his face bloating with rage. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Maison; you quit your infernal yappin'. She stays here. I +thought at first I'd killed her an' I was goin' to plant her. But +she's been groanin' a little while I've been comin' here, an' there's a +chance for her. Go get the doctor." +</P> + +<P> +"What about her brother?" demanded Maison. "He's a shark with a gun, +they tell me, an' a tiger when he's aroused. If he finds out about +this he'll kill both of us." +</P> + +<P> +Dale grinned saturninely. "I'll take care of the brother," he said. +"You get the doc—an' be damned quick about it!" +</P> + +<P> +Maison went out, and in five minutes returned with the doctor. The +latter worked for more than an hour with Peggy, and at last succeeded +in reviving her. +</P> + +<P> +But though Peggy opened her eyes, there was no light of reason in +them—only the vacuous, unseeing stare of a dulled and apathetic brain. +</P> + +<P> +"She's got an awful whack," said the doctor. "It's cracked her skull. +It'll be weeks before she gets over it—if she ever does. I'll come +and see her tomorrow." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor came the next day—in the morning. He found the patient no +better. A woman, hired by Dale, was caring for the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Also, in the morning, Dale paid a visit. His visit was to Dal Colton, +the man Dale had employed to kill Sanderson, and who had so signally +failed. +</P> + +<P> +The scene of the meeting between Dale and Colton was in the rear room +of the City Hotel. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," said Dale. "This deal can't be no whizzer like you run in +on Sanderson. He's got to be dropped, or things are goin' to happen to +all of us. His name's Nyland—Ben Nyland. You know him?" +</P> + +<P> +Colton nodded. "Plenty. He's a fast man with a gun. I'll have to get +him when he ain't lookin'. You'll get me clear?" +</P> + +<P> +"No one will know about it," declared Dale. "You go out to his ranch +an' lay for him. He'll be in on the afternoon train. When he comes +into the door of his house, nail him. That's easy." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CONCERNING A WOMAN +</H3> + +<P> +Day was breaking when Sanderson rode in to the Double A corral and +dismounted. Several of the men of the outfit were astir, and he called +to one of them, and told the man to care for his horse. He grinned +around at them all, and then went into the house. +</P> + +<P> +Mary Bransford was not yet up. The door that Sanderson had gone out of +the night before was still unlocked. He opened it and entered, passing +through the sitting-room and halting in the kitchen. He had noted that +the door to Mary's room was closed. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's dominant emotion was that of grim satisfaction. He had +compelled Maison to disgorge the money without jeopardizing his own +liberty. Judge Graney's word would suffice to prove his case should +Maison proceed against him. +</P> + +<P> +But Sanderson had little fear that Maison would attempt reprisal. If +he had judged the man correctly, Maison would not talk, even to +Silverthorn. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson cared very little if he did talk. He had reached the point +where the killing of his enemies would come easy to him. They had +chosen lawlessness, and he could wage that kind of warfare as well as +they. He had shown them that he could. +</P> + +<P> +He disclosed the visible proof of his ability. One by one he drew the +packages of currency from various pockets, tossing them at random on +the kitchen table. He was standing at the table, counting the bills in +one of the packages, when he heard a sound behind him. He wheeled, to +confront Mary Bransford. +</P> + +<P> +She was dressed, but her face was as yet unwashed, and her hair +uncombed. She stood in the doorway between the dining-room and the +kitchen, looking at Sanderson in sleepy-eyed bewilderment. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw you riding in," she said. "Where on earth have you been at this +hour? You came from the direction of Okar." +</P> + +<P> +"Business," he grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"Business! Why, what kind of business could take you to Okar during +the night?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you could get the sleep out of your eyes," he suggested, "mebbe you +could see. It's the kind of business that all the world is interested +in—gettin' the money." +</P> + +<P> +And then she saw the packages of bills. She rubbed her eyes as though +in doubt of the accuracy of her vision; they grew wide and bright with +astonishment and wonder, and she gave a little, breathless gasp as she +ran forward to the table and looked down at the mound of wealth. +</P> + +<P> +And then, convinced that her senses had not played her a trick, her +face whitened, she drew a long breath, and turned to Sanderson, +grasping the lapels of his coat and holding them tightly. +</P> + +<P> +"Sanderson," she said in an awed voice, "what have you done? Where did +you get that money?" +</P> + +<P> +He told her, and her eyes dilated. "What a reckless thing to do!" she +said. "They might have killed you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Maison was havin' thoughts the other way round," he grinned. "He was +mighty glad I didn't make him pay for the men he killed." +</P> + +<P> +"They'll be after you—they'll kill you for that!" she told him. +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks," he laughed. He showed her the document written and signed by +Maison, and attested by Judge Graney: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +This is to certify that I have tonight paid to Deal Sanderson the sum +of ninety thousand dollars for three thousand head of cattle received +to my full satisfaction. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"There ain't no comeback to that!" exulted Sanderson. "Now we'll start +buildin' that dam. Mebbe, though," he added, grinning at her, "if you +knew where a mighty hungry man could find a good cook that would be +willin' to rustle some grub, there'd be——" +</P> + +<P> +She laughed. "Right away!" she said, and went outside to perform her +ablutions. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson, while she was outside, counted out ten thousand dollars and +put it into a pocket. Then he piled the remainder of the money neatly +on the table. When Mary came in, her face glowing, her hair freshly +combed, he stood and looked at her with admiration in his eyes, and a +great longing in his heart. +</P> + +<P> +"I've dreamed of seein' you that way," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"As your cook?" she demanded, reddening. +</P> + +<P> +"A man's grub would taste a heap better if his wife did the cookin'," +he said, his face sober. +</P> + +<P> +"Why—why—" she said; "do you mean——" +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't be finicky if—if my wife was doin' my cookin'," he +declared, his own face crimson. "I wouldn't kick if she gave me the +same kind of grub every mornin'—if it was she I've wanted." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Sanderson! Is this——" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a proposal, ma'am. I can't say what I want to say—what I've +figured on sayin' to you. I don't seem to be able to find the words I +wanted to use. But you'll understand, ma'am." +</P> + +<P> +"That you want a cook more than you want a—a wife? Oh, Sanderson!" +she mocked. +</P> + +<P> +She knew that it was bashfulness that had caused him to mention the +cooking; that he had introduced the subject merely for the purpose of +making an oblique start; but she could not resist the temptation to +taunt him. +</P> + +<P> +She looked furtively at him to see how deeply she had hurt him, but was +surprised to see him grinning widely. +</P> + +<P> +"Women ain't so wise as they pretend to be," he said. "There's grub, +an' grub. An' what kind of grub is it that a man in love wants most?" +</P> + +<P> +She caught his meaning, now, and blushed rosy red, drooping her eyes +from his. +</P> + +<P> +"That wasn't fair, Sanderson," she said lowly. "Besides, a man can't +live on kisses." +</P> + +<P> +"I know a man who can," he smiled, his eyes eager and glowing, now that +he saw she was not going to repel him; "that is," he added lowly, "if +he could find a cook that would give them to him whenever he wanted +them. But it would take a lot of them, an' they'd have to be given +with the cook's consent. Do you think you could——" +</P> + +<P> +He paused and looked at her, for her eyes were shining and her lips +were pursed in a way that left no doubt of the invitation. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Mary!" he said, as he caught her in his arms. +</P> + +<P> +For a time the money lay on the table unnoticed and forgotten, and +there was an eloquent silence in the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +A little later, Barney Owen, passing close to the kitchen +window—having seen the men caring for Sanderson's horse, and learning +from them that Sanderson had come in early after having apparently been +out all night—heard Sanderson's voice issuing from the kitchen: +</P> + +<P> +"There's a difference in kisses; them that you gave me when you thought +I was your brother wasn't half so thrillin' as——" +</P> + +<P> +Owen stiffened and stood rigid, his face whitening. +</P> + +<P> +And then again he heard Sanderson's voice: +</P> + +<P> +"There's a judge in Okar—Judge Graney. An' if you'd consider gettin' +married today, ma'am, why——" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Sanderson!" came Mary's voice in mild reproof. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then," sounded Sanderson's voice, full of resignation this time; +"have it your way; I don't want to hurry you." +</P> + +<P> +"Hurry me? Oh, no!" laughed the girl in gentle mockery. Whereat they +both laughed. The sound of it must have pleased Owen, for he, too, +laughed as he left the window and went toward the bunkhouse. +</P> + +<P> +An hour later Sanderson emerged from the house, threw saddle and bridle +on Streak, and rode out into the basin to a camp where he found Kent +Williams and his men. He gave the engineer the package of bills he had +taken from the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Here is ten thousand dollars," he said. "You take your men, ride over +to Lazette, get your supplies, an' hustle them right back here. It +ain't likely there'll be any more trouble, but we ain't takin' any +chances. My men ain't got any more cattle to bother with, an' they'll +go with you an' your men to Lazette, an' come back with the wagons to +see that they ain't interfered with. Start as soon as you can get +ready." +</P> + +<P> +"Within an hour the engineer, his men, and the men of the Double A +outfit were on the move. Barney Owen did not go. He sat on one of the +top rails of the corral fence, alternately watching the men of the +outfit as they faded into the vast space toward Lazette, and Mary +Bransford and Sanderson, as they stood on the porch, close together, +likewise watching the men. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd say—if anyone was to ask me—that there is a brother who seems to +have been forgotten," said Owen with a curious smile. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MAN IS AROUSED +</H3> + +<P> +The coming of the dawn and the comforting contact with other human +beings, brought Banker Maison relief from the terrifying fear that had +gripped him during the night. He became almost courageous after +breakfast, and began to think that perhaps he had yielded too readily +to Sanderson's demands. +</P> + +<P> +As the hours passed and the memory of the night's horror grew more +distant, he began to feel indignant over the treatment accorded him by +Sanderson. Later the indignation grew to a deep and consuming rage, +and he entertained thoughts of his power and influence and of the +comparative unimportance of the grim-faced man who had robbed him. +</P> + +<P> +Robbed him—that was it! Sanderson had robbed him! +</P> + +<P> +The more Maison's thoughts dwelt upon the occurrence the deeper grew +his rage. He even condoned Dale's action in bringing the Nyland girl +to his rooms. Dale was his friend, and he would protect him! +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps Maison did not reflect that his greed was attempting to justify +him; that back of his growing championship of Dale was his eagerness to +get possession of the Nyland property; and that behind his rage over +Sanderson's visit was the bitter thought that Sanderson had compelled +him to pay for the destroyed and stolen steers. +</P> + +<P> +Maison did not consider that phase of the question. Or if he did +consider it he did not permit that consideration to influence his +actions. For within two hours after breakfast he had sent a messenger +for Silverthorn and Dale, and fifteen minutes later he was telling them +the story of the night's happenings. +</P> + +<P> +Silverthorn's face grew purple with rage during the recital. At its +conclusion he got up, dark purpose glinting in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"We've got to put Sanderson out of the way, and do it quickly!" he +declared. "And we've got to get that money back. Dale, you're a +deputy sheriff. Damn the law! This isn't a matter for court +action—that damned Graney wouldn't give us a warrant for Sanderson +now, no matter what we told him! We've got to take the law into our +own hands. We'll see if this man can come in here, rob a bank, and get +away without being punished!" +</P> + +<P> +At the end of a fifteen-minute talk, Dale slipped out of the rear door +of the bank and sought the street. In the City Hotel he whispered to +several men, who sauntered out of the building singly, mounted their +horses, and rode toward the neck of the basin. In another saloon Dale +whispered to several other men, who followed the first ones. +</P> + +<P> +Dale's search continued for some little time, and he kept a continuous +stream of riders heading toward the neck of the basin. And then, when +he had spoken to as many as he thought he needed, he mounted his own +horse and, rode away. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Sanderson and Mary Bransford had not yet settled the question regarding +the disposal of the money Sanderson had received from Banker Maison. +They sat on the edge of the porch, talking about it. From a window of +the bunkhouse Barney Owen watched them, a pleased smile on his face. +</P> + +<P> +"It's yours," Sanderson told the girl. "An' we ain't trustin' <I>that</I> +to any bank. Look what they did with the seven thousand I've got in +the Lazette bank. They've tied it up so nobody will be able to touch +it until half the lawyers in the county have had a chance to gas about +it. An' by that time there won't be a two-bit piece left to argue +over. No, siree, you've got to keep that coin where you can put your +hands on it when you want it!" +</P> + +<P> +"When <I>you</I> want it," she smiled. "Do you know, Deal," she added +seriously, blushing as she looked at him, "that our romance has been so +much different from other romances that I've heard about. It has +seemed so—er—matter of fact." +</P> + +<P> +He grinned. "All romances—real romances—are a heap matter of fact. +Love is the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. When a guy meets a +girl that he takes a shine to—an' the girl takes a shine to him—there +ain't anything goin' to keep them from makin' a go of it." +</P> + +<P> +He reddened a little. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I thought when I saw you. Even when the Drifter was +tellin' me about you, I was sure of you." +</P> + +<P> +"I think you have shown it in your actions," she laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"But how about you?" he suggested; "did you have any thoughts on the +subject?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I think that even while I thought you were my brother, I realized +that my feeling for you was strange and unusual; though I laid it to +the fact that I had never had a brother, and therefore could not be +expected to know just how a sister should feel toward one. But it has +all been unusual, hasn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you mean me comin' here like I did, an' masqueradin', an' lettin' +you kiss me, an' fuss over me—why, mebbe that would be considered +unusual. But love ain't unusual; an' a man fightin' for the woman he +loves ain't unusual." +</P> + +<P> +While he had been talking a change had come over him. His voice had +lost its note of gentle raillery, his lips had straightened into hard +lines, his eyes were glowing with the light she had seen in them more +than once—the cold glitter of hostility. +</P> + +<P> +Startled, she took him by the shoulders and shook him. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, what on earth has come over you, Deal?" +</P> + +<P> +He grinned mirthlessly, got up, took a hitch in his cartridge belt, and +drew a full breath. +</P> + +<P> +"The fightin' ain't over yet," he said. "There's a bunch of guys +comin' toward the Double A. Dale's gang, most likely—after the money +I took from Maison." +</P> + +<P> +She was on her feet now, and looking out into the basin. Two or three +miles away, enveloped in huge dust cloud, were a number of riders. +They were coming fast, and headed directly for the Double A ranchhouse. +</P> + +<P> +The girl clung to Sanderson's arm in sudden terror until he gently +released himself, and taking her by the shoulders forced her through a +door and into the sitting-room. +</P> + +<P> +"Hide that money in a safe place—-where the devil himself couldn't +find it. Don't give it up, no matter what happens." +</P> + +<P> +He walked to a window and looked out. Behind him he could hear Mary +running here and there; and at last when the riders were within half a +mile of the house, she came and stood behind Sanderson, panting, +resting her hands on his shoulders to peer over them at the coming +riders. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson turned and smiled at her. "We'll go out on the porch, now, +an' wait for them." +</P> + +<P> +"Deal," she whispered excitedly; "why don't you go away? Get on +Streak—he'll outrun any horse in the county! Go! Get Williams and +the other boys. Deal!" She shook him frenziedly. "It isn't the money +they are after—it's you! They'll kill you, Deal! And there are so +many of them! Run—run!" +</P> + +<P> +He grinned, patting her shoulder as he led her out upon the porch and +forced her into a chair. +</P> + +<P> +When the men had come near enough for him to distinguish their faces, +and he saw that Dale was leading them, he walked to a slender porch +column and leaned against it, turning to smile at Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"Maison decided he'd have to talk, looks like," he said. "Some men +just can't help it." +</P> + +<P> +Rigid in her chair, the girl watched the riders swoop toward the +ranchhouse; Sanderson, lounging against the porch column, smiled +saturninely. +</P> + +<P> +The riders headed directly toward the porch. Sanderson counted them as +they came to a halt within thirty feet of the edge of the porch. There +were twenty of them. +</P> + +<P> +Dale, his face flushed, his eyes alight with triumph, dismounted and +stepped forward, halting at the edge of the porch and sweeping his hat +from his head with exaggerated courtesy. +</P> + +<P> +"Delighted to see you, ma'am—an' your friend, Deal Sanderson. Mr. +Sanderson paid my friend Maison a visit last night, takin' away with +him ninety thousand dollars of the bank's money. Me an' my men has +come over to get the money—an' Mr. Sanderson. The Okar court allows +that it needs him. I've got a warrant for him." +</P> + +<P> +Dale's grin was huge. He felt secure with his men behind him. +</P> + +<P> +But if he expected Sanderson to be impressed he was disappointed. The +latter's face did not change color, nor did he shift his position in +the slightest manner. And his cold, amused grin disconcerted Dale. +His voice, when he spoke, was gentle and drawling: +</P> + +<P> +"Was you thinkin' Miss Bransford is interested in warrants, Dale? Oh, +don't! There's an honest judge in Okar, an' he ain't helpin' Maison's +gang. Get back to Okar an' tell Maison that Sanderson ain't visitin' +Okar today." +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't, eh!" Dale's voice snapped with rage. "Well, we ain't +carin' a damn whether you do or not! We've got you, right where we +want you. I've got a warrant, an' you'll come peaceable or we'll plant +you! There ain't only two horses in the corral—showing that your men +has gone. An' there ain't anything between you an' the coyotes!" +</P> + +<P> +"Only you, Dale," said Sanderson. His voice was still gentle, still +drawling. But into it had come a note that made Dale's face turn pale +and caused the bodies of the men in the group to stiffen. +</P> + +<P> +"Only you, Dale," Sanderson repeated. His right hand was at his hip, +resting lightly on the butt of the six-shooter that reposed in its +holster. +</P> + +<P> +"I've always wanted to test the idea of whether a crook like you +thought more of what he was doin' than he did of his own life. This +gun leather of mine is kind of short at the top—if you'll notice. The +stock an' the hammer of the gun are where they can be touched without +interferin' with the leather. There ain't any trigger spring, because +I've been brought up to fan the hammer. There ain't any bottom to the +holster, an' it's hung by a little piece of leather so's it'll turn +easy in any direction. +</P> + +<P> +"It can easy be turned on you. You get goin'. I'll have a chance to +bore one man before your crowd gets me. Likely it will be you. What +are you sayin'?" +</P> + +<P> +Dale was saying nothing. His face changed color, he shifted his feet +uneasily, and looked back at his men. Some of them were grinning, and +it was plain to Dale that not one of them would act unless ordered to +do so. +</P> + +<P> +And an order, given by him, would mean suicide, nothing less; for from +that country in which Sanderson had gained his reputation had come +stories of the man's remarkable ability with the weapon he had +described, and Dale had no longing to risk his life so recklessly. +</P> + +<P> +There was a long, tense silence. Not a man in the group of riders +moved a finger. All were gazing, with a sort of dread fascination, at +the holster at Sanderson's right hip, and at the butt of the gun in it, +projecting far, the hammer in plain sight. +</P> + +<P> +The situation could not last. Sanderson did not expect it to last. +Seemingly calm and unconcerned, he was in reality passionately alert +and watchful. +</P> + +<P> +For he had no hope of escaping from this predicament. He had made a +mistake in sending his men away with Williams, and he knew the chances +against him were too great. He had known that all along—even when +talking and comforting Mary Bransford. +</P> + +<P> +He knew that Dale had come to kill him; that Graney had not issued any +warrant for him, for Graney knew that Maison had acted of his own +volition—or at least had given the judge that impression. +</P> + +<P> +But whether the warrant was a true one or not, Sanderson had decided +that he would not let himself be taken. He had determined that at the +first movement made by any man in the group he would kill Dale and take +his chance with the others. +</P> + +<P> +Dale knew it—he saw the cold resolution in Sanderson's eyes. Dale +drew a deep breath, and the men in the group behind him watched him +narrowly. +</P> + +<P> +But just when it seemed that decisive action in one direction or +another must he taken, there came an interruption. +</P> + +<P> +Behind Sanderson—from one of the windows of the ranchhouse—came a +hoarse curse. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson saw Dale's eyes dilate; he saw the faces of the men in the +group of riders change color; he saw their hands go slowly upward. +Dale, too, raised his hands. +</P> + +<P> +Glancing swiftly over his shoulder, Sanderson saw Barney Owen at one of +the windows. He was inside the house, his arms were resting on the +window-sill. He was kneeling, and in his hands was a rifle, the muzzle +covering Dale and the men who had come with him. +</P> + +<P> +Owen's face was chalk white and working with demoniac passion. His +eyes were wild, and blazing with a wanton malignancy that awed every +man who looked at him—Sanderson included. His teeth were bared in a +horrible snarl; the man was like some wild animal—worse, the savage, +primitive passions of him were unleashed and rampant, directed by a +reasoning intelligence. His voice was hoarse and rasping, coming in +jerks: +</P> + +<P> +"Get out of the way, Sanderson! Stand aside! I'll take care of these +whelps! Get your hands up, Dale! Higher—higher! You damned, +sneaking vulture! Come here to make trouble, eh? You and your bunch +of curs! I'll take care of you! Move—one of you! Move a finger! +You won't! Then go! Go! I'll count three! The man that isn't going +when I finish counting gets his quick! One—two——" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait!! Already on the move, the men halted at the sound of his voice. +The violence of the passion that gripped him gave him a new thought. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't go!" he jeered at them. "You stay here. Sanderson, you +take their guns! Grab them yourself!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson drew his own weapon and moved rapidly among the men. He got +Dale's gun first and threw it in the sand at the edge of the porch. +Then he disarmed the others, one after another, throwing the weapons +near where he had thrown Dale's. +</P> + +<P> +He heard Owen tell Mary Bransford to get them, and he saw Mary +gathering them up and taking them into the house. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson made his search of the men thorough, for he had caught the +spirit of the thing. At last, when the guns were all collected, Owen +issued another order: +</P> + +<P> +"Now turn your backs—every last man of you! And stay that way! The +man that turns his head will never do it again! +</P> + +<P> +"Sanderson, you go after Williams and the others. They've only been +gone about an hour, and they won't travel fast. Get them! Bring them +back here. Then we'll take the whole bunch over to Okar and see what +Judge Graney has to say about that warrant!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson looked at Mary Bransford, a huge grin on his face. She +smiled stiffly at him in return, and nodded her head. +</P> + +<P> +Seemingly, it was the only way out of a bad predicament. Certainly +they could not commit wholesale murder, and it was equally certain that +if Dale was permitted to go, he and his men would return. Or they +might retire to a distance, surround the house and thus achieve their +aim. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson, however, was not satisfied, for he knew that a sudden, +concerted rush by the men—even though they were unarmed—would result +disastrously to Owen—and to Mary—if she decided to remain. +</P> + +<P> +Telling the little man to keep a watchful eye on the men, he went among +them, ordering those that were mounted from their horses. When they +were all standing, he began to uncoil the ropes that were hanging from +the saddles. +</P> + +<P> +He worked fast, and looking up once he saw Owen's eyes glowing with +approval—while Mary smiled broadly at him. They knew what he meant to +do. +</P> + +<P> +Dale and his men knew also, for their faces grew sullen. Sanderson, +however, would tolerate no resistance. Rope in hand, he faced Dale. +The latter's face grew white with impotent fury as he looked at the +rope in Sanderson's hands; but the significant Hardness that flashed +into Sanderson's eyes convinced him of the futility of resistance, and +he held his hands outward. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson tied them. Very little of the rope was required in the +process, and after Dale was secured, Sanderson threw a loop around the +hands of a man who stood beside Dale, linking him with the latter. +</P> + +<P> +Several others followed. Sanderson used half a dozen ropes, and when +he had finished, all the Dale men—with their leader on an extreme end, +were lashed together. +</P> + +<P> +There were hard words spoken by the men; but they brought only grins to +Sanderson's face, to Owen's, and to Mary's. +</P> + +<P> +"They won't bother you a heap, now," declared Sanderson as he stepped +toward the porch and spoke to Owen. "Keep an eye on them, though, an' +don't let them go to movin' around much." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson stepped up on the porch and spoke lowly to Mary, asking her +to go with him after Williams—for he had had that thought in mind ever +since Owen had issued the order for him to ride after the engineer. +</P> + +<P> +But Mary refused, telling Sanderson that by accompanying him she would +only hamper him. +</P> + +<P> +Reluctantly, then, though swiftly, Sanderson ran to the corral, threw +saddle and bridle on Streak, and returned to the porch. He halted +there for a word with Owen and Mary, then raced northeastward, +following a faint trail that Williams and the others had taken, which +led for a time over the plains, then upward to the mesa which rimmed +the basin. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MAN IS HANGED +</H3> + +<P> +Sanderson and Streak grew dim in the distance until, to the watchers at +the ranchhouse, horse and rider merged into a mere blot that crawled up +the long slope leading to the mesa. The watchers saw the blot yet a +little longer, as it traveled with swift, regular leaps along the edge +of the mesa; then it grew fainter and fainter, and at last they saw it +no more. +</P> + +<P> +Dale's men, their backs to Owen and Mary, seemed to have accepted their +defeat in a spirit of resignation, for they made no attempt to turn +their heads. +</P> + +<P> +Mary, white and shaking, though with a calmness that came from the +knowledge that in this crisis she must do what she could, went inside +and stood behind Owen, ready to respond to any call he might make upon +her. +</P> + +<P> +Owen, his rage somewhat abated, though he still watched Dale and his +men with sullen, malevolent eyes, had changed his position. Mary had +brought a chair, and Owen sat on it, the rifle still resting on the +window-sill, menacing the men. +</P> + +<P> +The minutes, it seemed to the girl, passed with exceeding slowness. +She watched the hands of a clock on a shelf in the room drag themselves +across the face of the dial, and twice she walked in front of the shelf +and peered intently at the clock, to be certain it was going. +</P> + +<P> +Williams and the other men had been gone for something more than an +hour. But, as Owen had said, they would travel slowly, having no +incentive for haste. Sanderson, on the other hand, would make Streak +run his best—and she knew Streak could run. +</P> + +<P> +So she began to estimate the time that would elapse before Sanderson +and Williams returned. With an hour's start, she gave Sanderson +three-quarters of an hour to catch them. Then, three quarters of an +hour additional would be required for the run home—if they came back +as swiftly as Sanderson had gone. +</P> + +<P> +But she doubted that. She would give them a full hour for the return +trip. That would make an hour and three quarters. +</P> + +<P> +But it seemed to her that an age elapsed before the minute hand on the +clock dragged itself one-quarter of the distance around the circle. +</P> + +<P> +She looked out at Dale and his men. The men were all standing, their +backs to the house. But it seemed to the girl that they were standing +nearer to one another than they had been all along, and a pulse of +trepidation ran over her. +</P> + +<P> +Watching them closely, Mary felt they were meditating some action. +They were whispering to one another, and Dale was gesturing as +emphatically as he could. +</P> + +<P> +The girl was certain they contemplated concerted action of some sort, +and she was just about to apprise Owen of her fears, when she saw one +of the men—and then another and another—working with the ropes that +bound them. One of the men turned, a huge grin on his face. She +caught the flash of metal in the man's hands, saw the rope fall from +them, severed. +</P> + +<P> +She shouted, then, at Owen: +</P> + +<P> +"Look out, Barney; they've got a knife!" +</P> + +<P> +At the instant she spoke the men moved as though by prearrangement. By +the time her voice reached Owen's ears the men had scattered, running +in all directions. Several ran directly away from the house, others +toward it, some went toward the corners of the building nearest them. +All were running zigzag fashion. +</P> + +<P> +Owen, his eyes blazing, fired three times in rapid succession. One of +the men tumbled, headlong, turning over several times and landing face +downward on the sand of the yard; but several others, apparently +uninjured, ran straight for the ranchhouse. +</P> + +<P> +There were no stationary targets for Owen to shoot at. By the time he +had fired the three shots the men were all moving. Several the girl +saw as they ran around the ranchhouse; three or four others ran +straight for the door in which she stood. +</P> + +<P> +She cried sharply to Owen, and the latter fired once, as three or four +figures crossed the porch. The girl could not tell whether or not Dale +was one of the three, for the men moved quickly. +</P> + +<P> +Owen missed; Mary heard him curse. And before he had time to do either +again the men were inside. Mary was standing near Owen, and she had +reached down for one of the pistols that lay on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +By the time the men entered the door she had raised the weapon, and as +the first figure burst through the opening, she leveled the weapon and +pulled the trigger. +</P> + +<P> +The gun went off, but did no apparent damage, and before she could fire +again the men were upon her. She threw the heavy weapon into the face +of the man nearest her—she did not look at him; and ran through the +nearest door, which opened into the kitchen. She heard the man curse +as the weapon struck him full in the face, and she knew, then, that she +had struck Dale. +</P> + +<P> +In the kitchen the girl hesitated. She would have gone outside, on the +chance that the men there might not see her, but, hesitating at the +kitchen door, she saw a big man running toward it. +</P> + +<P> +So she turned and ran into the room she used as a pantry, slamming the +door behind her, bolting it and leaning against it, breathing heavily. +</P> + +<P> +She had not, however, escaped the eyes of the man who had been running +toward the kitchen door. She heard Dale's voice, asking one of the men +if he had seen her, and the latter answered: +</P> + +<P> +"She ducked into the pantry and closed the door." +</P> + +<P> +She heard a man step heavily across the kitchen floor, and an instant +later he was shoving against the door with a shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Bolted, eh?" he said with a short laugh. He walked away, and +presently returned. "Well, you'll keep," he said, "there ain't any +windows." +</P> + +<P> +She knew from his voice that the man was Dale. He had gone outside and +had seen there was no escape for her except through the door she had +barred. +</P> + +<P> +There came a silence except for the movements of the men, and the low +hum of their voices. She wondered what had become of Owen, but she did +not dare unbolt the door for fear that Dale might be waiting on the +other side of it. So, in the grip of a nameless terror she leaned +against the door and waited. +</P> + +<P> +She heard Dale talking to his men; he was standing near the door behind +which she stood, and she could hear him distinctly. +</P> + +<P> +"You guys hit the breeze after Sanderson. Kill him,—an' anybody +that's with him! Wipe out the whole bunch! I'll stay here an' make +the girl tell me where the coin is. Get goin', an' go fast, for +Sanderson will travel some!" +</P> + +<P> +The girl heard the boots of the men clatter on the floor as they went +out. Listening intently, she could hear the thudding of their horses' +hoofs as they fled. She shrank back from the door, looking hard at it, +wondering if it would hold, if it would resist Dale's efforts to burst +it open—as she knew he would try to do. +</P> + +<P> +She wished, now, that she had followed Sanderson's suggestion about +riding after Williams. This situation would not have been possible, +then. +</P> + +<P> +Working feverishly, she piled against the door all the available +articles and objects she could find. There were not many of them, and +they looked a pitifully frail barricade to her. +</P> + +<P> +A silence that followed was endured with her cringing against the +barricade. She had a hope that Dale would search for the money—that +he would find it, and go away without attempting to molest her. But +when she heard his step just outside the door, she gave up hope and +stood, her knees shaking, awaiting his first movement. +</P> + +<P> +It came quickly enough. She heard him; saw the door give just a trifle +as he leaned his weight against it. +</P> + +<P> +The movement made her gasp, and he heard the sound. +</P> + +<P> +"So you're still there, eh? Well, I thought you would be. Open the +door!" +</P> + +<P> +"Dale," she said, desperately, "get out of here! I'll tell you where +the money is—I don't want it." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," he said, "where is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's in the parlor; the packages are stuffed between the springs of +the lounge." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed, jeeringly. +</P> + +<P> +"That dodge don't go," he said in a voice that made her feel clammy all +over. "If it's there, all right. I'll get it. But the money can +wait. Open the door!" +</P> + +<P> +"Dale," she said, as steadily as she could, "if you try to get in here +I shall kill you!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's good," he laughed; "you threw your gun at me. It hit me, too. +Besides if you had a gun you'd be lettin' it off now—this door ain't +so thick that a bullet wouldn't go through it. Shoot!" +</P> + +<P> +Again there came a silence. She heard Dale walking about in the +kitchen. She heard him place a chair near the wall which divided the +pantry from the kitchen, and then for the first time she realized that +the partition did not reach entirely to the ceiling; that it rose to a +height only a few feet above her head. +</P> + +<P> +She heard Dale laugh, triumphantly, at just the instant she looked at +the top of the partition, and she saw one of Dale's legs come over. It +dangled there for a second; then the man's head and shoulders appeared, +with his hands gripping the top of the wall. +</P> + +<P> +She began to tear at the barricade she had erected, and had only +succeeded in partially demolishing it, when Dale swung his body over +the wall and dropped lightly beside her. +</P> + +<P> +She fought him with the only weapons she had, her hands, not waiting +for him to advance on her, but leaping at him in a fury and striking +his face with her fists, as she had seen men strike others. +</P> + +<P> +He laughed, deeply, scornfully, as her blows landed, mocking her +impotent resistance. Twice he seized her hands and swept them brutally +to her sides, where he held them—trying to grip them in one of his; +but she squirmed free and fought him again, clawing at his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The nails of her fingers found his cheek, gashing it deeply. The pain +from the hurt made him furious. +</P> + +<P> +"Damn you, you devil, I'll fix you!" he cursed. And in an access of +bestial rage he tore her hands from his face, crushed them to her +sides, wrenching them cruelly, until she cried out in agony. +</P> + +<P> +Then, his face hideous, he seized her by the shoulders and crushed her +against the outside wall, so that her head struck it and she sagged +forward into his arms, unconscious. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The lock on Barney Owen's rifle had jammed just as Dale entered the +room, following the rush of the men to the outside door. He had +selected Dale as his target. +</P> + +<P> +He tried for a fatal instant to work the lock, saw his error, and swung +the weapon over his head in an attempt to brain the man nearest him. +The man dodged and the rifle slipped from Owen's hands and went +clattering to the floor. Then the man struck with the butt of one of +the pistols he had picked up from the floor, and Owen went down in a +heap. +</P> + +<P> +When he regained consciousness the room was empty. For a time he lay +where he had fallen, too dizzy and faint to get to his feet; and then +he heard Dale's voice, saying: +</P> + +<P> +"A bullet wouldn't go through it. Shoot!" +</P> + +<P> +At the sound of Dale's voice a terrible rage, such as had seized Owen +at the moment he had stuck the rifle through the window, gripped him +now, and he sat up, swaying from the strength of it. He got to his +feet, muttering insanely, and staggered toward the kitchen door—from +the direction in which Dale's voice seemed to come. +</P> + +<P> +It took him some time to reach the door, and when he did get there he +was forced to lean against one of the jambs for support. +</P> + +<P> +But he gained strength rapidly, and peering around the door jamb he was +just in time to see Dale step on a chair and lift himself over the +partition dividing the kitchen from the pantry. +</P> + +<P> +Owen heard the commotion that followed Dale's disappearance over the +partition; he heard the succeeding crashes and the scuffling. Then +came Dale's voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Damn you, you devil, I'll fix you!" +</P> + +<P> +Making queer sounds in his throat, Owen ran into the sitting-room where +the weapons taken from the men had been piled. They were not there. +He picked up the rifle. By some peculiar irony the lock worked all +right for him now, but a quick look told him there were no more +cartridges in the magazine. He dropped the rifle and looked wildly +around for a another weapon. +</P> + +<P> +He saw a lariat hanging from a peg on the kitchen wall. It was +Sanderson's rope—Owen knew it. Sanderson had oiled it, and had hung +it from the peg to dry. +</P> + +<P> +Owen whined with joy when he saw it. His face working, odd guttural +sounds coming from his throat, Owen leaped for the rope and pulled it +from the peg. Swiftly uncoiling it, he glanced at the loop to make +sure it would run well; then with a bound he was on the chair and +peering over the top of the partition, the rope in hand, the noose +dangling. +</P> + +<P> +He saw Dale directly beneath it. The Bar D man was standing over Mary +Bransford. The girl was on her back, her white face upturned, her eyes +closed. +</P> + +<P> +Grinning with hideous joy, Owen threw the rope. The loop opened, +widened, and dropped cleanly over Dale's head. +</P> + +<P> +Dale threw up both hands, trying to grasp the sinuous thing that had +encircled his neck, but the little man jerked the rope viciously and +the noose tightened. The force of the jerk pulled Dale off his +balance, and he reeled against the partition. +</P> + +<P> +Before he could regain his equilibrium Owen leaned far over the top of +the partition. Exerting the last ounce of his strength Owen lifted, +and Dale swung upward, swaying like an eccentric pendulum, his feet +well off the floor. +</P> + +<P> +Dale's back was toward the wall, and he twisted and squirmed like a cat +to swing himself around so that he could face it. +</P> + +<P> +During the time Dale struggled to turn, Owen moved rapidly. Leaping +off the chair, keeping the rope taut over the top of the partition, +Owen ran across the kitchen and swiftly looped the end of the rope +around a wooden bar that was used to fasten the rear outside door. +</P> + +<P> +Then, running into the front room, he got the rifle, and returning to +the kitchen he got on the chair beside the partition. +</P> + +<P> +He could hear Dale cursing. The man's legs were thrashing about, +striking the boards of the partition. Owen could hear his breath as it +coughed in his throat. But the little man merely grinned, and crouched +on the chair, waiting. +</P> + +<P> +He was waiting for what he knew would come next. Dale would succeed in +twisting his body around before the rope could strangle him, he would +grasp the rope and pull himself upward until he could reach the top of +the partition with his hands. +</P> + +<P> +And while Owen watched and waited, Dale's hands came up and gripped the +top of the wall—both hands, huge and muscular. Owen looked at them +with great glee before he acted. Then he brought the stock of the +rifle down on one of the hands with the precision of a cold +deliberation that had taken possession of him. +</P> + +<P> +Dale screamed with the pain of the hurt, then cursed. But he still +gripped the top of the partition with the other hand. +</P> + +<P> +Owen grinned, and with the deliberation that had marked the previous +blow he again brought the rifle stock down, smashing the remaining +hand. That, too, disappeared, and Dale's screaming curses filled the +cabin. +</P> + +<P> +Owen waited. Twice more the hands came up, and twice more Owen crushed +them with the rifle butt. At last, though Owen waited for some time, +the hands came up no more. Then, slowly, cautiously, Owen stuck his +head over the top of the partition. +</P> + +<P> +Dale's head had fallen forward; he was swinging slowly back and forth, +his body limp and lax. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVII +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE AMBUSH +</H3> + +<P> +Streak had done well, having slightly improved on the limit set for the +trip by Mary Bransford. With no delay whatever, Williams and his men +and the Double A cowpunchers were headed for the ranchhouse, their +horses running hard. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was leading them, though close behind came several of the +Double A men, their faces set and grim; and then one of Williams' men, +a young fellow who had admired Mary Bransford from afar; then some more +of the Double A men, and Williams and the remainder of his band of +engineers. +</P> + +<P> +There was no word spoken. In a few swift sentences Sanderson had told +them what had occurred, and there was no need for words as they fled +southwestward. +</P> + +<P> +For a few miles the trail was hard and smooth, and the posse made good +time. Then they struck a stretch of broken country, where volcanic +action had split the surface of the earth into fissures and chasms, +thus making speed impossible. +</P> + +<P> +It took them long to cross the section, and when it was behind them +they found themselves in a hilly country where the going was not much +better than it had been in the volcanic area. +</P> + +<P> +The trail was narrow, and they were forced to travel in single file. +Sanderson led the way, Streak thundering along, a living blot splitting +the brown, barren wasteland, followed closely by other blots, rushing +over the hazardous trail, the echoes of their passing creating a rumble +as of drumfire reverberating in a cañon. +</P> + +<P> +They came to a point where the trail led upward sharply, veering around +the shoulder of a hill and dropping precipitously into a valley. +</P> + +<P> +For an instant, as the riders flashed around the shoulder of the hill, +they caught a glimpse of a group of riders coming toward them, visible +to Sanderson and the others as they were for a second exposed to view +in a narrow defile. Then the view of them was cut off, and Sanderson +and the men following him were in the valley, riding desperately, as +before. +</P> + +<P> +Still there had been no word said. Sanderson had seen the oncoming +riders, but he attached no importance to their appearance, for +cowpunchers often rode in groups to some outlying camp, and these men +might belong to some ranch in the vicinity. +</P> + +<P> +There was a straight stretch of hard, smooth trail in the center of the +valley, and Sanderson made Streak take it with a rush. Sanderson +grinned grimly as he heard the other men coming close behind him—they +were as eager as he, and as vengeful. +</P> + +<P> +Up out of the valley went Streak, running with long, smooth leaps that +gave no indication of exhaustion; Sanderson patted his neck as he raced +upward out of the valley and into the defile where they had seen the +riders. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was halfway up the defile when he was assailed with the +thought that by this time—even before this—they should have met the +other riders—had the latter kept the trail. +</P> + +<P> +Struck by a sudden suspicion that there was something strange about the +disappearance of the riders, Sanderson abruptly pulled Streak up. The +other men were some distance behind, and Sanderson slipped out of the +saddle to give Streak a breathing spell. +</P> + +<P> +The movement saved his life, for his feet had hardly struck the ground +when he heard the thud of a rifle bullet, the sharp crash of the +weapon, and saw the leaden missile rip the leather on the cantle of the +saddle. +</P> + +<P> +As though the shot were a signal, there followed others—a ripping, +crashing volley. Sanderson saw the smoke spurts ballooning upward from +behind some rocks and boulders that dotted the hills on both sides of +the defile, he saw several of his men drop from their horses and fall +prone to the ground. +</P> + +<P> +He shouted to the men to leave their horses and "take cover," and he +himself sought the only cover near him—a wide fissure in the wall of +the long slope below the point where the attackers were concealed. +</P> + +<P> +Streak, apparently aware of the danger, followed Sanderson into the +shelter of the fissure. +</P> + +<P> +It was an admirable spot for an ambuscade. Sanderson saw that there +were few places in which his men could conceal themselves, for the +hostile force occupied both sides of the defile. Their rifles were +still popping, and Sanderson saw two of the Double A force go down +before they could find shelter. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson divined what had happened—Dale and his men had overpowered +Owen, and had set this ambuscade for himself and the Double A men. +</P> + +<P> +Dale was determined to murder all of them; it was to be a fight to a +finish—that grim killing of an entire outfit, which, in the idiomatic +phraseology of the cowpuncher, is called a "clean-up." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was aware of the disadvantage which must be faced, but there +was no indication of fear or excitement in his manner. It was not the +first time he had been in danger, and he drew his belt tighter and +examined his pistols as he crouched against the ragged wall of the +fissure. Then, calling Streak to him, he pulled his rifle out of the +saddle holster and examined the magazine. +</P> + +<P> +Rifle in hand, he first surveyed the wall of the defile opposite him. +The crevice in which he was hiding was irregular at the entrance, and a +jutting shoulder of it concealed him from view from the wall of the +defile opposite him. Another projection, opposite the jutting +shoulder, protected him from any shots that might be aimed at him from +his left. +</P> + +<P> +The fissure ran, with sharp irregularities, clear up the face of the +wall behind him. He grinned with satisfaction when he saw that there +were a number of places along the upward line of the fissure which +would afford him concealment in an offensive battle with Dale's men. +</P> + +<P> +He contemplated making things rather warm for the Dale contingent +presently; but first he must make sure that none of his own men was +exposed to danger. +</P> + +<P> +Cautiously, then, he laid his head close to the ragged wall of the +fissure and peered upward and outward. Behind a big boulder on the +opposite side of the defile he saw a man's head appear. +</P> + +<P> +Watching for a time, Sanderson made certain the man was not one of his +own outfit, and then he shoved the muzzle of his rifle out, laid his +cheek against the stock, and covered the partly exposed head of the man +behind the boulder. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson waited long with his cheek caressing the rifle stock, while +the man behind the boulder wriggled farther out, exposing himself more +and more in his eagerness to gain a more advantageous position. +</P> + +<P> +And presently, without moving his head, Sanderson discovered that it +was Williams who was in danger. +</P> + +<P> +Williams had concealed himself behind a jagged rock, which protected +him from the bullets fired from across the defile, and from the sides. +But the rock afforded him no protection from the rear, and the man +behind the boulder was going to take advantage of his opportunity. +</P> + +<P> +"That's my engineer, mister," he said grimly; "an' I ain't lettin' you +make me go to the trouble of sendin' east for another. You're ready +now, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +The man behind the boulder had reached a position that satisfied him. +Sanderson saw him snuggle the stock of his rifle against his shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's rifle cracked viciously. The man behind the boulder was +lying on a slight slope, and when Sanderson's bullet struck him, he +gently rolled over and began to slide downward. He came—a grotesque, +limp thing—down the side of the defile, past the engineer, sliding +gently until he landed in a queer-looking huddle at the bottom, near +the trail. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson intently examined other rocks and boulders on the opposite +side of the defile. He had paid no attention to Williams' "Good work, +Sanderson!" except to grin and assure himself that Williams hadn't +"lost his nerve." +</P> + +<P> +Presently at an angle that ran obliquely upward from a flat, projecting +ledge, behind which another Double A man lay, partly concealed, +Sanderson detected movement. +</P> + +<P> +It was only a hat that he saw this time, and a glint of sunlight on the +barrel of a rifle. But he saw that the rifle, after moving, became +quite motionless, and he suspected that it was about to be used. +</P> + +<P> +Again the cheek snuggled the stock of his rifle. +</P> + +<P> +"This is goin' to be some shot—if I make it!" he told himself just +before he fired. "There ain't nothin' to shoot at but one of his ears, +looks like." +</P> + +<P> +But at the report of the rifle, the weapon that had been so rigid and +motionless slipped from behind the rock and clattered downward. It +caught halfway between the rock and the bottom of the defile. There +came no sound from behind the rook, and no movement. +</P> + +<P> +"Got him!" yelled Williams. "Go to it! There's only two more on this +side, that I can see. They're trying mighty hard to perforate me—I'm +losing weight dodging around here trying to keep them from drawing a +bead on me. If I had a rifle——" +</P> + +<P> +Williams' voice broke off with the crash of a rifle behind him, though +a little to one side. Talking to Sanderson, and trying to see him, +Williams had stuck his head out a little too far. The bullet from the +rifle of the watching enemy clipped off a small piece of the engineer's +ear. +</P> + +<P> +Williams' voice rose in impotent rage, filling the defile with profane +echoes. Sanderson did not hear Williams. He had chanced to be looking +toward the spot from whence the smoke spurt came. +</P> + +<P> +A fallen tree, its top branches hanging down the wall of the defile, +provided concealment from which the enemy had sent his shot at +Williams. Sanderson snapped a shot at the point where he had seen the +smoke streak, and heard a cry of rage. +</P> + +<P> +A man, his face distorted with pain, stood up behind the fallen tree +trunk, the upper part of his body in plain view. +</P> + +<P> +His rage had made him reckless, and he had stood erect the better to +aim his rifle at the fissure in which Sanderson was concealed. He +fired—and missed, for Sanderson had ducked at the movement. Sanderson +heard the bullet strike the rock wall above his head, and go +ricochetting into the cleft behind him. +</P> + +<P> +He peered out again instantly, to see that the man was lying doubled +across the fallen tree trunk, his rifle having dropped, muzzle down, in +some bushes below him. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson heard Williams' voice, raised in savage exultation: +</P> + +<P> +"Nip my ear, will you—yon measly son-of-a-gun! I'll show you! +</P> + +<P> +"Got him with my pistol!" he yelled to one of the Double A men near +him. "Come on out and fight like men, you miserable whelps!" +</P> + +<P> +The young engineer's fighting blood was up—that was plain to +Sanderson. Sanderson grinned, yielded to a solemn hope that Williams +would not get reckless and expose himself needlessly, and began to +examine the walls of the fissure to determine on a new offensive +movement. +</P> + +<P> +He was interrupted, though, by another shout from Williams. +</P> + +<P> +"Got him!" yelled the engineer; "plumb in the beezer!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson peered out, to see the body of a man come tumbling down the +opposite wall of the defile. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all on this side!" Williams informed the others, shouting. +"Now let's get at the guys on the other side and salivate them!" +</P> + +<P> +Again Sanderson grinned at the engineer's enthusiasm. That enthusiasm +was infectious, for Sanderson heard some of the other men laughing. +The laughing indicated that they now entertained a hope of ultimate +victory—a hope which they could not have had before Williams and +Sanderson had disposed of the enemies at their rear. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson, too, was imbued with a spirit of enthusiasm. He began to +climb the walls of the crevice, finding the ragged rock projections +admirably convenient for footing. +</P> + +<P> +However, his progress was slow, for he had to be careful not to let his +head show above the edge of the rock that formed the fissure; and so he +was busily engaged for the greater part of half an hour before he +finally reached a position from which he thought he could get a glimpse +of the men on his side of the defile. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile there had been no sound from the bottom, or the other side of +the defile, except an occasional report of a rifle, which told that +Dale's men were firing, or the somewhat more crashing report of a +pistol, which indicated that his own men were replying. +</P> + +<P> +From where he crouched in the fissure, Sanderson could see some of the +horses at the bottom of the defile. They were grazing unconcernedly. +Scattered along the bottom of the defile were the men who had fallen at +the first fire, and Sanderson's eye glinted with rage when he looked at +them; for he recognized some of them as men of the outfit for whom he +had conceived a liking. Two of Williams' men were lying there, too, +and Sanderson's lips grimmed as he looked at them. +</P> + +<P> +Thoroughly aroused now, Sanderson replaced the empty cartridges in the +rifle with loaded ones, and, finding a spot between two small boulders, +he shoved the muzzle of the rifle through. +</P> + +<P> +He had no fear of being shot at from the rear, for the men had +permitted him to go far enough through the defile to allow the others +following him to come into range before they opened fire. +</P> + +<P> +Thus Sanderson was between the Dale outfit and the Double A ranchhouse, +and he had only to look back in the direction from which he and +Williams had come. None of the Dale men could cross the fissure. +</P> + +<P> +Cautiously Sanderson raised his head above the rocky edge of the +fissure. He kept his head concealed behind the two small boulders and +he had an uninterrupted view of the entire side of the defile. +</P> + +<P> +He saw a number of men crouching behind rocks and boulders that were +scattered over the steep slope, and he counted them +deliberately—sixteen. He could see their faces plainly, and he +recognized many of them as Dale's men. They were of the vicious type +that are to be found in all lawless communities. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's grin as he sighted along the barrel of his rifle was full +of sardonic satisfaction, tempered with a slight disappointment. For +he did not see Dale among the others. Dale, he supposed, had stayed +behind. +</P> + +<P> +The thought of what Dale might be doing at the Double A ranchhouse +maddened Sanderson, and taking quick sight at a man crouching behind a +rock, he pulled the trigger. +</P> + +<P> +Looking only in front of him, at the other side of the defile where +Sanderson's men were concealed, the man did not expect attack from a +new quarter, and as Sanderson's bullet struck him he leaped up, howling +with pain and astonishment, clutching at his breast. +</P> + +<P> +He had hardly exposed himself when several reports from the other side +of the defile greeted him. The man staggered and fell behind his rock, +his feet projecting from one side and his head from the other. +</P> + +<P> +Instantly the battle took on a new aspect. It was a flank attack, +which Dale's men had not anticipated, and it confused them. Several of +them shifted their positions, and in doing so they brought parts of +their bodies into view of the men on the opposite wall. +</P> + +<P> +There rose from the opposite wall a succession of reports, followed by +hoarse cries of pain from Dale's men. They flopped back again, thus +exposing themselves to Sanderson's fire, and the latter lost not one of +his opportunities. +</P> + +<P> +It was the aggressors themselves that were now under cross fire, and +they relished it very little. +</P> + +<P> +A big man, incensed at his inability to silence Sanderson, and wounded +in the shoulder, suddenly left the shelter of his rock and charged +across the steep face of the slope toward the fissure. +</P> + +<P> +This man was brave, despite his associations, but he was a Dale man, +and deserved no mercy. Sanderson granted him none. Halfway of the +distance between his rock and the fissure he charged before Sanderson +shot him. The man fell soundlessly, turning over and over in his +descent to the bottom of the defile. +</P> + +<P> +And then rose Williams' voice—Sanderson grinned with bitter humor: +</P> + +<P> +"We've got them, boys; we've got them. Give them hell, the damned +buzzards!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVIII +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +NYLAND MEETS A "KILLER" +</H3> + +<P> +Ben Nyland had gone to Lazette to attend to some business that had +demanded his attention. He had delayed going until he could delay no +longer. +</P> + +<P> +"I hate like blazes to go away an' leave you alone, here—to face that +beast, Dale, if he comes sneakin' around. But I reckon I've just got +to go—I can't put it off any longer. If you'd only go an' stay at +Bransford's while I'm gone I'd feel a heap easier in my mind." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not a bit afraid," Peggy declared. "That last experience of +Dale's with Sanderson has done him good, and he won't bother me again." +</P> + +<P> +That had been the conversation between Ben and Peggy as Ben got ready +to leave. And he had gone away, half convinced that Peggy was right, +and that Dale would not molest her. +</P> + +<P> +But he had made himself as inconspicuous as possible while in Okar, +waiting for the train, and he was certain that none of Dale's men had +seen him. +</P> + +<P> +Nyland had concluded his business as quickly as possible, but the best +he could do was to take the return train that he had told Peggy he +would take. That train brought him back to Okar late in the afternoon +of the next day. +</P> + +<P> +Ben Nyland had been born and raised in the West, and he was of the type +that had made the West the great supply store of the country. Rugged, +honest, industrious, Ben Nyland had no ambitions beyond those of taking +care of his sister—which responsibility had been his since the death +of his parents years before. +</P> + +<P> +It had not been a responsibility, really, for Nyland worshiped his +sister, and it had been his eagerness to champion her that had made an +enemy of Alva Dale. +</P> + +<P> +He hated Dale, but not more than he hated Maison and Silverthorn for +the part they were playing—and had played—in trying to rob him of his +land. +</P> + +<P> +Nyland was a plodder, but there ran in his veins the fighting blood of +ancestors who had conquered the hardships and dangers of a great, +rugged country, and there had been times when he thought of Dale and +the others that his blood had leaped like fire through his veins. +</P> + +<P> +Twice Peggy had prevented him from killing Alva Dale. +</P> + +<P> +Nyland was afflicted with a premonition of evil when he got off the +train at Okar. To the insistence of the owner of the livery stable, +where he had left his horse, Nyland replied: +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't got no time to do any drinkin'; I've got to get home." +</P> + +<P> +The premonition of evil still oppressed him as he rode his horse +homeward. He rode fast, his face set and worried. +</P> + +<P> +When he reached the clearing through which Dale had come on the night +he had visited the Nyland cabin, he looked furtively around, for the +dire foreboding that had gripped him for hours had grown suddenly +stronger. +</P> + +<P> +He halted his horse and sat motionless in the saddle, intently +examining every object within view. +</P> + +<P> +It was to the horse corral that he finally turned when he could see +nothing strange in the objects around him. He had looked at the house, +and there seemed to be nothing wrong here, for he could see Peggy's +wash on the line that ran from a porch column to a corner of the stable. +</P> + +<P> +The actions of the three horses in the corral was what attracted his +attention. They were crowding the rail at the point nearest him, +neighing shrilly, though with a curious clacking in their throats that +he instantly detected. +</P> + +<P> +"They're wantin' water," he said aloud. He rode to the water trough +and saw that it was dry, with a deposit in the bottom which did not +contain a drop of moisture. +</P> + +<P> +"There ain't been no water put in there since I left," he decided; +"them horses is chokin' with thirst." +</P> + +<P> +A pulse of anxiety ran over him. There was no doubt in his mind now +that his presentiment of evil was not without foundation, and he +wheeled his horse and sent it toward the house. +</P> + +<P> +"Peggy would give them water if she was able to be on her feet," he +declared, "she's that kind." +</P> + +<P> +But halfway to the house another thought assailed him. It drew his +brows together in a scowl, it stiffened his lips until they were in +straight, hard lines. +</P> + +<P> +"Mebbe Dale's been here! Mebbe he's still here!" +</P> + +<P> +He abruptly halted his horse and gazed around him. As though he +expected to find something there he looked toward a little timber grove +to the right of the house, far back toward the rimming hills. At the +edge of the grove he saw a horse, saddled and bridled. +</P> + +<P> +A quick change came over Nyland. The blood left his face, and his eyes +took on an expression of cold cunning. +</P> + +<P> +Dismounting, he hitched his horse to one of the rails of the corral +fence. With his back turned to the house, his head cocked to one side, +as though he were intent on the knot he was tying in the reins, he +furtively watched the house. +</P> + +<P> +He took a long time to tie the reins to the rail, but the time was well +spent, for, before he finished, he saw a man's face at one of the +kitchen windows. +</P> + +<P> +It was not Dale. He was convinced of that, even though he got only a +flashing glance at the face. +</P> + +<P> +Danger threatened Peggy, or she had succumbed to it. There was no +other explanation of the presence of a strange man in the kitchen. For +if Peggy was able to walk, she would have watered the horses, she would +have met him at the door, as she had always done. +</P> + +<P> +And if the man were there for any good purpose he would have made his +presence known to Nyland, and would not have hidden himself in the +kitchen, to peer at Nyland through one of the windows. +</P> + +<P> +Nyland was convinced that Peggy had been foully dealt with. But haste +and recklessness would avail Nyland little. The great mingled rage and +anxiety that had seized him demanded instant action, but he fought it +down; and when he turned toward the house and began to walk toward the +kitchen door, his manner—outwardly—was that of a man who has seen +nothing to arouse his suspicions. +</P> + +<P> +Yet despite the appearance of calm he was alert, and every muscle and +sinew of his body was tensed for instant action. And so, when he had +approached to within a dozen feet of the kitchen door, and a man's +figure darkened the opening, he dove sidewise, drawing his gun as he +went down and snapping a shot at the figure he had seen. +</P> + +<P> +So rapid were his movements, and so well timed was his fall, that he +was halfway to the ground when the flash came from the doorway. And +the crash of his own gun followed the other so closely that the two +seemed almost instantaneous. +</P> + +<P> +Nyland did not conclude his acrobatic performance with the dive. +Landing on the ground he rolled over and over, scrambling toward the +wall of the cabin—reaching it on all fours and crouching there, gun in +hand—waiting. +</P> + +<P> +He had heard no sound from the man, nor did the latter appear. The +silence within the cabin was as deep as it had been just an instant +before the exchange of shots. +</P> + +<P> +There was a window in the rear wall of the cabin—a kitchen window. +There was another on the opposite side—the dining-room. There was a +front door and two windows on the side Nyland was on. +</P> + +<P> +Two courses were open for Nyland. He could gain entrance to the house +through one of the windows or the front door, thereby running the risk +of making a target of himself, or he could stay on the outside and wait +for the man to come out—which he would have to do some time. +</P> + +<P> +Nyland decided to remain where he was. For a long time he crouched +against the wall and nothing happened. Then, growing impatient, he +moved stealthily around the rear corner, stole to the rear window, and +peered inside. +</P> + +<P> +It took him long to prepare for the look—he accomplished the action in +an instant—a flashing glance. A gun roared close to his head, the +flash blinding him; the glass tinkling on the ground at his feet. +</P> + +<P> +But Nyland had not been hit, and he grinned felinely as he dropped to +the ground, slipped under the window, and ran around the house. +Ducking under the side window he ran around to the front. From the +front window he could look through the house, and he saw the man, gun +in hand, watching the side door. +</P> + +<P> +Nyland took aim through the window, but just as he was about to pull +the trigger of the weapon the man moved stealthily toward the door—out +of Nyland's vision. +</P> + +<P> +Evidently the man considered the many windows to be a menace to his +safety, and had determined to go outside, where he would have an equal +chance with his intended victim. +</P> + +<P> +Grinning coldly, Nyland moved to the corner of the house nearest the +kitchen door. The man stepped out of the door, and at the instant +Nyland saw him he was looking toward the rear of the house. +</P> + +<P> +Nyland laughed—aloud, derisively. He did not want to shoot the man in +the back. +</P> + +<P> +At Nyland's laugh the man wheeled, snapping a shot from his hip. He +was an instant too late, though, for with the man's wheeling movement +Nyland's gun barked death to him. +</P> + +<P> +He staggered, the gun falling from his loosening fingers, his hands +dropped to his sides, and he sagged forward inertly, plunging into the +dust in front of the kitchen door. +</P> + +<P> +Nyland ran forward, peered into the man's face, saw that no more +shooting on his part would be required, and then ran into the house to +search for Peggy. +</P> + +<P> +She was not in the house—a glance into each room told Nyland that. He +went outside again, his face grim, and knelt beside the man. +</P> + +<P> +The latter's wound was fatal—Nyland saw that plainly, for the bullet +had entered his breast just above the heart. +</P> + +<P> +Nyland got some water, for an hour he worked over the man, not to save +his life, but to restore him to consciousness only long enough to +question him. +</P> + +<P> +And at last his efforts were rewarded: the man opened his eyes, and +they were swimming with the calm light of reason. He smiled faintly at +Nyland. +</P> + +<P> +"Got me," he said. "Well, I don't care a whole lot. There's just one +thing that's been botherin' me since you come. Did you think somethin' +was wrong in the house when you was tyin' your cayuse over there at the +corral fence?" +</P> + +<P> +At Nyland's nod he continued: +</P> + +<P> +"I knowed it. It was the water, wasn't it—in the trough? I'm sure a +damned fool for not thinkin' of that! So that was it? Well, you've +got an eye in your head—I'll tell you that. I'm goin' to cash in, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Nyland nodded and the man sighed. He closed his eyes for an instant, +but opened them slightly at Nyland's question: +</P> + +<P> +"What did you do to Peggy? Where is she?" +</P> + +<P> +The man was sinking fast, and it seemed that he hardly comprehended +Nyland's question. The latter repeated it, and the man replied weakly: +</P> + +<P> +"She's over in Okar—at Maison's—in his rooms. She——" +</P> + +<P> +He closed his eyes and his lips, opening the latter again almost +instantly to cough a crimson stream. +</P> + +<P> +Nyland got up, his face chalk white. Standing beside the man he +removed the two spent cartridges from the cylinder of his pistol and +replaced them with two loaded ones. Then he ran to his horse, tore the +reins from the rail of the corral fence, mounted with the horse in a +dead run, and raced toward Okar. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap29"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIX +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +NYLAND'S VENGEANCE +</H3> + +<P> +Just before the dusk enveloped Okar, Banker Maison closed the desk in +his private office and lit a cigar. He leaned back in the big desk +chair, slowly smoking, a complacent smile on his lips, his eyes glowing +with satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +For Maison's capacity for pleasure was entirely physical. He got more +enjoyment out of a good dinner and a fragrant cigar than many +intellectual men get out of the study of a literary masterpiece, or a +philanthropist out of the contemplation of a charitable deed. +</P> + +<P> +Maison did not delve into the soul of things. The effect of his greed +on others he did not consider. That was selfishness, of course, but it +was a satisfying selfishness. +</P> + +<P> +It did not occur to him that Mary Bransford, for instance, or +Sanderson—or anybody whom he robbed—could experience any emotion or +passion over their losses. They might feel resentful, to be sure; but +resentment could avail them little—and it didn't bring the dollars +back to them. +</P> + +<P> +He chuckled. He was thinking of the Bransfords now—and Sanderson. He +had put a wolf on Sanderson's trail—he and Silverthorn; and Sanderson +would soon cease to bother him. +</P> + +<P> +He chuckled again; and he sat in the chair at the desk, hugely enjoying +himself until the cigar was finished. Then he got up, locked the +doors, and went upstairs. +</P> + +<P> +Peggy Nyland had not recovered consciousness. The woman who was caring +for the girl sat near an open window that looked out upon Okar's one +street when Maison entered the room. +</P> + +<P> +Maison asked her if there was any change; was told there was not. He +stood for an instant at the window, mentally anathematizing Dale for +bringing the girl to his rooms, and for keeping her there; then he +dismissed the woman, who went down the stairs, opened the door that +Maison had locked, and went outside. +</P> + +<P> +He stood for an instant longer at the window; then he turned and looked +down at Peggy, stretched out, still and white, on the bed. +</P> + +<P> +Maison looked long at her, and decided it was not remarkable that Dale +had become infatuated with Peggy, for the girl was handsome. +</P> + +<P> +Maison had never bothered with women, and he yielded to a suspicion of +sentiment as he looked down at Peggy. But, as always, the sentiment +was not spiritual. +</P> + +<P> +Dale had intimated that the girl was his mistress. Well, he was bound +to acknowledge that Dale had good taste in such matters, anyway. +</P> + +<P> +The expression of Maison's face was not good to see; there was a glow +in his eyes that, had Peggy seen it, would have frightened her. +</P> + +<P> +And if Maison had been less interested in Peggy, and with his thoughts +of Dale, he would have heard the slight sound at the door; he would +have seen Ben Nyland standing there in the deepening dusk, his eyes +aflame with the wild and bitter passions of a man who had come to kill. +</P> + +<P> +Maison did not see, nor did he hear until Ben leaped for him. Then +Maison heard him, felt his presence, and realized his danger. +</P> + +<P> +He turned, intending to escape down the other stairway. He was too +late. +</P> + +<P> +Ben caught him midway between the bed and the door that opened to the +stairway, and his big hands went around the banker's neck, cutting +short his scream of terror and the incoherent mutterings which followed +it. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Peggy Nyland had been suffering mental torture for ages, it seemed to +her. Weird and grotesque thoughts had followed one another in rapid +succession through her brain. The thing had grown so vivid—the +horrible imaginings had seemed so real, that many times she had been on +the verge of screaming. Each time she tried to scream, however, she +found that her jaws were tightly set, her teeth clenched, and she could +get no sound through them. +</P> + +<P> +Lately, though—it seemed that it had been for hours—she had felt a +gradual lessening of the tension. Within the last few hours she had +heard voices near her; had divined that persons were near her. But she +had not been certain. That is, until within a few minutes. +</P> + +<P> +Then it seemed to her that she heard some giant body threshing around +near her; she heard a stifled scream and incoherent mutterings. The +thing was so close, the thumping and threshing so real, that she +started and sat up in bed, staring wildly around. +</P> + +<P> +She saw on the floor near her two men. One had his hands buried in the +other's throat, and the face of the latter was black and horribly +bloated. +</P> + +<P> +This scene, Peggy felt, was real, and again she tried to scream. +</P> + +<P> +The effort was successful, though the sound was not loud. One of the +men turned, and she knew him. +</P> + +<P> +"Ben," she said in an awed, scared voice, "what in God's name are you +doing?" +</P> + +<P> +"Killin' a snake!" he returned sullenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Dale?" she inquired wildly. Her hands were clasped, the fingers +working, twisting and untwisting. +</P> + +<P> +"Maison," he told her, his face dark with passion. +</P> + +<P> +"Because of me! O, Ben! Maison has done nothing to me. It was Dale, +Ben—Dale came to our place and attacked me. I felt him carrying +me—taking me somewhere. This—this place——" +</P> + +<P> +"Is Maison's rooms," Ben told her. In his eyes was a new passion; he +knelt beside the bed and stroked the girl's hair. +</P> + +<P> +"Dale, you said—Dale. Dale hurt you? How?" +</P> + +<P> +She told him, and he got up, a cold smile on his face. +</P> + +<P> +"You feel better now, eh? You can be alone for a few minutes? I'll +send someone to you." +</P> + +<P> +He paid no attention to her objections, to her plea that she was afraid +to be alone. He grinned at her, the grin that had been on his face +when he had shot Dal Colton, and backed away from her until he reached +the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +Outside he mounted his horse and visited several saloons. There was no +sign of Dale. In the City Hotel he came upon a man who told him that +earlier in the day Dale had organized a posse and had gone to the +Double A to arrest Sanderson. This man was not a friend of Dale's, and +one of the posse had told him of Dale's plan. +</P> + +<P> +Nyland mounted his horse again and headed it for the neck of the basin. +In his heart was the same lust that had been there while he had been +riding toward Okar. +</P> + +<P> +And in his soul was a rage that had not been sated by the death of the +banker who, a few minutes before Nyland's arrival, had been so smugly +reviewing the pleasurable incidents of his life. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap30"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXX +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LAW TAKES A HAND +</H3> + +<P> +Barney Owen was tying the knot of the rope more securely when he heard +the bolt on the pantry door shoot back. He wheeled swiftly, to see +Mary Bransford emerging from the pantry, her hands covering her face in +a vain endeavor to shut from sight the grisly horror she had confronted +when she had reached her feet after recovering consciousness. +</P> + +<P> +Evidently she had no knowledge of what had occurred, for when at a +sound Owen made and she uncovered her eyes, she saw Owen and instantly +fainted. +</P> + +<P> +Owen dove forward and caught her as she fell, and then with a strength +that was remarkable in his frail body he carried her to the lounge in +the parlor. +</P> + +<P> +Ho was compelled to leave her there momentarily, for he still +entertained fears that Dale would escape the loop of the rope. So he +ran into the pantry, looked keenly at Dale, saw that, to all +appearances, he was in the last stages of strangulation, and then went +out again, to return to Mary. +</P> + +<P> +But before he left Dale he snatched the man's six-shooter from its +sheath, for his own had been lost in the confusion of the rush of +Dale's men for the door. +</P> + +<P> +Mary was sitting up on the lounge when Owen returned. She was pale, +and a haunting fear, cringing, abject, was in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +She got to her feet when she saw Owen and ran to him, crying. +</P> + +<P> +Owen tried to comfort her, but his words were futile. +</P> + +<P> +"You be brave, little woman!" he said. "You must be brave! Sanderson +and the other men are in danger, and I've got to go to Okar for help!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go with you," declared the girl. "I can't stay here—I won't. I +can't stand being in the same house with—with that!" She pointed to +the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," Owen said resignedly; "we'll both go. What did you do +with the money?" +</P> + +<P> +Mary disclosed the hiding place, and Owen took the money, carried it to +the bunkhouse, where he stuffed it into the bottom of a tin food box. +Then, hurriedly, he saddled and bridled two horses and led them to +where Mary was waiting on the porch. +</P> + +<P> +Mounting, they rode fast toward Okar—the little man's face working +nervously, a great eagerness in his heart to help the man for whom he +had conceived a deep affection. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Banker Maison had made no mistake when he had told Sanderson that Judge +Graney was honest. Graney looked honest. There was about him an +atmosphere of straightforwardness that was unmistakable and convincing. +It was because he was honest that a certain governor had sent him to +Okar. +</P> + +<P> +And Graney had vindicated the governor's faith in him. Whenever crime +and dishonesty raised their heads in Okar, Judge Graney pinned them to +the wall with the sword of justice, and called upon all men to come and +look upon his deeds. +</P> + +<P> +Maison, Silverthorn, and Dale—and others of their ilk—seldom called +upon the judge for advice. They knew he did not deal in their kind. +Through some underground channel they had secured a deputyship for +Dale, and upon him they depended for whatever law they needed to +further their schemes. +</P> + +<P> +Judge Graney was fifty—the age of experience. He knew something of +men himself. And on the night that Maison and Sanderson had come to +him, he thought he had seen in Sanderson's eyes a cold menace, a +threat, that meant nothing less than death for the banker, if the +latter had refused to write the bill of sale. +</P> + +<P> +For, of course, the judge knew that the banker was being forced to make +out the bill of sale. He knew that from the cold determination and +alert watchfulness in Sanderson's eyes; he saw it in the white +nervousness of the banker. +</P> + +<P> +And yet it was not his business to interfere, or to refuse to attest +the signatures of the men. He had asked Maison to take the oath, and +the banker had taken it. +</P> + +<P> +Thus it seemed he had entered into the contract in good faith. If he +had not, and there was something wrong about the deal, Maison had +recourse to the law, and the judge would have aided him. +</P> + +<P> +But nothing had come of it; Maison had said nothing, had lodged no +complaint. +</P> + +<P> +But the judge had kept the case in mind. +</P> + +<P> +Late in the afternoon of the day on which Dale had organized the posse +to go to the Double A, Judge Graney sat at his desk in the courtroom. +The room was empty, except for a court attache, who was industriously +writing at a little desk in the rear of the room. +</P> + +<P> +The Maison case was in the judge's mental vision, and he was wondering +why the banker had not complained, when the sheriff of Colfax entered. +</P> + +<P> +Graney smiled a welcome at him. "You don't get over this way very +often, Warde, but when you do, I'm glad to see you. Sit on the +desk—that's your usual place, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +Warde followed the suggestion about the desk; he sat on it, his legs +dangling. There was a glint of doubt and anxiety in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"What's wrong, Warde?" asked the judge. +</P> + +<P> +"Plenty," declared Warde. "I've come to you for advice—and perhaps +for some warrants. You recollect some time ago there was a herd of +cattle lost in Devil's Hole—and some men. Some of the men were shot, +and one or two of them went down under the herd when it stampeded." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said the judge, "I heard rumors of it. But those things are not +uncommon, and I haven't time to look them up unless the cases are +brought formally to my attention." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," resumed Warde, "at the time there didn't seem to be any clue to +work on that would indicate who had done the killing. We've nothing to +do with the stampede, of course—that sort of stuff is out of my line. +But about the shooting of the men. I've got evidence now." +</P> + +<P> +"Go ahead," directed the judge. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, on the night of the killing two of my men were nosing around the +level near Devil's Hole, trying to locate a horse thief who had been +trailed to that section. They didn't find the horse thief, but they +saw a bunch of men sneaking around a camp fire that belonged to the +outfit which was trailin' the herd that went down in Devil's Hole. +</P> + +<P> +"They didn't interfere, because they didn't know what was up. But they +saw one of the men stampede the herd, and they saw the rest of them do +the killing." +</P> + +<P> +"Who did the killing?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dale and his gang," declared the sheriff. +</P> + +<P> +Judge Graney's eyes glowed. He sat erect and looked hard at the +sheriff. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is Sanderson?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the fellow who bossed the trail herd." +</P> + +<P> +The judge smiled oddly. "There were three thousand head of cattle?" +</P> + +<P> +Warde straightened. "How in hell do you know?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Banker Maison paid for them," he said gently. +</P> + +<P> +He related to Warde the incident of the visit of Sanderson and the +banker, and the payment to Sanderson by Maison of the ninety thousand +dollars. +</P> + +<P> +At the conclusion of the recital Warde struck the desk with his fist. +</P> + +<P> +"Damned if I didn't think it was something like that!" he declared. +"But I wasn't going to make a holler until I was sure. But Sanderson +knew, eh? He knew all the time who had done the killing, and who had +planned it. Game, eh? He was playing her a lone hand!" +</P> + +<P> +The sheriff was silent for a moment, and then he spoke again, a glow of +excitement in his eyes. "But there'll be hell to pay about this! If +Sanderson took ninety thousand dollars away from Maison, Maison was +sure to tell Dale and Silverthorn about it—for they're as thick as +three in a bed. And none of them are the kind of men to stand for that +kind of stuff from anybody—not even from a man like Sanderson!" +</P> + +<P> +"We've got to do something, Judge! Give me warrants for the three of +them—Dale, Maison, and Silverthorn, and I'll run them in before they +get a chance to hand Sanderson anything!" +</P> + +<P> +Judge Graney called the busy clerk and gave him brief instructions. As +the latter started toward his desk there was a sound at the door, and +Barney Owen came in, breathing heavily. +</P> + +<P> +Barney's eyes lighted when they rested upon the sheriff, for he had not +hoped to see him there. He related to them what had happened at the +Double A that day, and how Dale's men had followed Sanderson and the +others to "wipe them out" if they could. +</P> + +<P> +"That settles it!" declared the sheriff. He was outside in an instant, +running here and there in search of men to form a posse. He found +them, scores of them; for in all communities where the law is +represented, there are men who take pride in upholding it. +</P> + +<P> +So it was with Okar. When the law-loving citizens of the town were +told what had occurred they began to gather around the sheriff from all +directions—all armed and eager. And yet it was long after dusk before +the cavalcade of men turned their horses' heads toward the neck of the +basin, to begin the long, hard ride over the plains to the spot where +Sanderson, Williams, and the others had been ambushed by Dale's men. +</P> + +<P> +A rumor came to the men, however, just before they started, which made +several of them look at one another—for there had been those who had +seen Ben Nyland riding down the street toward Maison's bank in the +dusk, his face set and grim and a wild light in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Maison has been guzzled—he's deader than a salt mackerel!" came the +word, leaping from lip to lip. +</P> + +<P> +Sheriff Warde grinned. "Serves him right," he declared; "that's one +less for us to hang!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap31"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXI +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FUGITIVE +</H3> + +<P> +After the departure of Barney Owen and Mary Bransford, the Double A +ranchhouse was as silent as any house, supposed to be occupied by a +dead man, could be. +</P> + +<P> +But after a few minutes, if one had looked over the top of the +partition from which Owen had hanged Alva Dale, one might have seen +Dale move a little. One might have been frightened, but if one had +stayed there, it would have been to see Dale move again. +</P> + +<P> +The first time he moved he had merely placed his feet upon the floor, +to rest himself. The second movement resulted in him raising his +smashed hands and lifting the noose from his neck. +</P> + +<P> +He threw it viciously from him after removing it, so that it flew over +the top of the partition and swished sinuously upon the floor of the +kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +For Barney Owen had not done a good job in hanging Dale. For when +Barney had run across the kitchen with the rope, to tie it to the +fastenings of the door, it had slacked a little, enough to permit +Dale's toes to touch the floor of the pantry. +</P> + +<P> +Feeling the slack, Dale had taken advantage of it, throwing his head +forward a little, to keep the rope taut while Owen fastened it. All +that had been involuntary with Dale. +</P> + +<P> +For, at that time Dale had had no thought of trying to fool Owen—he +had merely taken what chance had given him. And when the first shock +of the thing was over he had begun his attempts to reach the top of the +partition in order to slacken the rope enough to get it over his +head—for at that time he did not know that already the rope was slack +enough. +</P> + +<P> +It was not until after his hands had been smashed and he had dropped to +the floor again, that he realized that he might have thrown the rope +off at once. +</P> + +<P> +Then it was too late for him to do anything, for he felt Owen above +him, at the top of the partition, and he thought Owen had a gun. So he +feigned strangulation, and Owen had been deceived. +</P> + +<P> +And when Owen had entered the pantry, Dale still continued to feign +strangulation, letting his body sag, and causing a real pressure on his +neck. He dared not open his eyes to see if Owen had a weapon, for then +the little man, having a gun, would have quickly finished the work +that, seemingly, the rope had begun. +</P> + +<P> +Dale might have drawn his own gun, taking a long chance of hitting +Owen, but he was at a great disadvantage because of the condition of +his hands, and he decided not to. +</P> + +<P> +Dale heard Owen and Mary go out; he heard the clatter of hoofs as they +rode away. Then he emerged from the pantry, and through a window +watched the two as they rode down the slope of the basin. +</P> + +<P> +Then Dale yielded to the bitter disappointment that oppressed him, and +cursed profanely, going from room to room and vengefully kicking things +out of his way while bandaging his smashed hands. +</P> + +<P> +In the parlor he overturned the lounge and almost kicked it to pieces +searching for the money Mary had told him was concealed there. +</P> + +<P> +"The damned hussy!" he raged, when he realized that the money was not +in the lounge. +</P> + +<P> +He went out, got on his horse, and rode across the level back of the +house, and up the slope leading to the mesa, where he had seen +Sanderson riding earlier in the day. +</P> + +<P> +For an hour he rode, warily, for he did not want to come upon Sanderson +unawares—if his men had not intercepted his enemy; and then reaching +the edge of a section of hilly country, he halted and sat motionless in +the saddle. +</P> + +<P> +For, from some distance ahead of him he heard the reports of firearms, +and over him, at the sound, swept a curious reluctance to go any +farther in that direction. +</P> + +<P> +For it seemed to him there was something forbidding in the sound; it +was as though the sounds carried to him on the slight breeze were +burdened with an evil portent; that they carried a threat and a warning. +</P> + +<P> +He sat long there, undecided, vacillating. Then he shuddered, wheeled +his horse, and sent him scampering over the back trail. +</P> + +<P> +He rode to the Bar D. His men—the regular punchers—were working far +down in the basin, and there was no one in the house. +</P> + +<P> +He sat for hours alone in his office, waiting for news of the men he +had sent after Sanderson; and as the interval of their absence grew +longer the dark forebodings that had assailed him when within hearing +distance of the firing seized him again—grew more depressing, and he +sat, gripping the arms of his chair, a clammy perspiration stealing +over him. +</P> + +<P> +He shook off the feeling at last, and stood up, scowling. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what a man gets for givin' up to a damn fool notion like that," +he said, thinking of the fear that had seized him while listening to +the shooting. "Once a man lets on he's afraid, the thing keeps a +workin' on him till he's certain sure he's a coward. Them boys didn't +need me, anyway—they'll get Sanderson." +</P> + +<P> +So he justified his lack of courage, and spent some hours reading. But +at last the strain grew too great, and as the dusk came on he began to +have thoughts of Dal Colton. Ben Nyland must have reached home by this +time. Had Colton succeeded? +</P> + +<P> +He thought of riding to Nyland's ranch, but he gave up that idea when +he reasoned that perhaps Colton had failed, and in that case Nyland +wouldn't be the most gentle person in the world to face on his own +property. +</P> + +<P> +If Colton had succeeded he would find him, in Okar. So he mounted his +horse and rode to Okar. +</P> + +<P> +The town seemed to be deserted when he dismounted in front of the City +Hotel. He did not go inside the building, merely looking in through +one of the windows, and seeing a few men in there, playing cards in a +listless manner. He did not see Colton. +</P> + +<P> +He looked into several other windows. Colton was nowhere to be seen. +In several places Dale inquired about him. No one had seen Colton that +day. +</P> + +<P> +No one said anything to Dale about what had happened. Perhaps they +thought he knew. At any rate, Dale heard no word of what had +transpired during his absence. Men spoke to him, or nodded—and looked +away, to look at him when his back was turned. +</P> + +<P> +All this had its effect on Dale. He noted the restraint, he felt the +atmosphere of strangeness. But he blamed it all on the queer +premonition that had taken possession of his senses. It was not Okar +that looked strange, nor the men, it was himself. +</P> + +<P> +He went to the bank building and entered the rear door, clumping +heavily up the stairs, for he felt a heavy depression. When he opened +the door at the top of the stairs night had come. A kerosene lamp on a +table in the room blinded him for an instant, and he stood, blinking at +it. +</P> + +<P> +When his eyes grew accustomed to the glare he saw Peggy Nyland sitting +up in bed, looking at him. +</P> + +<P> +She did not say anything, but continued to look at him. There was +wonder in her eyes, and Dale saw it. It was wonder over Dale's +visit—over his coming to Okar. Ben must have missed him, for Dale was +alive! Dale could not have heard what had happened. +</P> + +<P> +"You're better, eh?" said Dale. +</P> + +<P> +She merely nodded her reply, and watched Dale as he crossed the room. +</P> + +<P> +Reaching a door that led into another room, Dale turned. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's Maison?" +</P> + +<P> +Peggy pointed at the door on whose threshold Dale stood. +</P> + +<P> +Dale entered. What he saw in the room caused him to come out again, +his face ashen. +</P> + +<P> +"What's happened?" he demanded hoarsely, stepping to the side of the +bed and looking down at Peggy. +</P> + +<P> +Peggy told him. The man's face grew gray with the great fear that +clutched him, and he stepped back; then came forward again, looking +keenly at the girl as though he doubted her. +</P> + +<P> +"Nyland killed him—choked him to death?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +Peggy nodded silently. The cringing fear showing in the man's eyes +appalled her. She hated him, and he had done this thing to her, but +she did not want the stigma of another killing on her brother's name. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Dale!" she said. "You'd better get out of here—and out of +the country! Okar is all stirred up over what you have done. Sheriff +Warde was in Okar and had a talk with Judge Graney. Warde knows who +killed those men at Devil's Hole, and he is going to hang them. You +are one of them; but you won't hang if Ben catches you. And he is +looking for you! You'd better go—and go fast!" +</P> + +<P> +For an instant Dale stood, looking at Peggy, searching her face and +probing her eyes for signs that she was lying to him. He saw no such +signs. Turning swiftly, he ran down the stairs, out into the street, +and mounting, with his horse already running, he fled toward the basin +and the Bar D. +</P> + +<P> +He had yielded entirely to the presentiment of evil that had tortured +him all day. +</P> + +<P> +All his schemes and plots for the stealing of the Double A and Nyland's +ranch were forgotten in the frenzy to escape that had taken possession +of him, and he spurred his horse to its best efforts as he ran—away +from Okar; as he fled from the vengeance of those forces which his +evilness had aroused. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap32"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXII +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WINNING A FIGHT +</H3> + +<P> +After Sanderson shot the big man who had tried to rush him, there was a +silence in the defile. Those of Dale's men who had positions of +security held them, not exposing themselves to the deadly fire of +Sanderson and the others. +</P> + +<P> +For two hours Sanderson clung to his precarious position in the +fissure, until his muscles ached with the strain and his eyes blurred +because of the constant vigil. But he grimly held the place, knowing +that upon him depended in a large measure the safety of the men on the +opposite side of the defile. +</P> + +<P> +The third hour was beginning when Sanderson saw a puff of smoke burst +from behind a rock held by one of his men; he heard the crash of a +pistol, and saw one of Dale's men flop into view from behind a rock +near him. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson's smile was a tribute to the vigilance of his men. Evidently +the Dale man, fearing Sanderson's inaction might mean that he was +seeking a new position from where he could pick off more of his +enemies, had shifted his own position so no part of his body was +exposed to Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +He had wriggled around too far, and the shot from Sanderson's man had +been the result. +</P> + +<P> +The man was not dead; Sanderson could see him writhing. He was badly +wounded, too, and Sanderson did not shoot, though he could have +finished him. +</P> + +<P> +But the incident drew Sanderson's attention to the possibilities of a +new position. He had thought at first that he had climbed as high in +the fissure as he dared without exposing himself to the fire of the +Dale men; but examining the place again he saw that he might, with +exceeding caution, take another position about twenty feet farther on. +</P> + +<P> +He decided to try. Letting himself down until his feet struck a flat +rock projection, he rested. Then, the weariness dispersed, he began to +climb, shoving his rifle between his body and the cartridge belt around +his waist. +</P> + +<P> +It took him half an hour to reach the point he had decided upon, and by +that time the sun had gone far down into the hazy western distance, and +a glow—saffron and rose and violet—like a gauze curtain slowly +descending—warned him that twilight was not far away. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson determined to finish the battle before the darkness could +come to increase the hazard, and when he reached the spot in the +fissure he hurriedly took note of the strategical points of the +position. +</P> + +<P> +There was not much concealment for his body. He was compelled to lie +flat on his stomach to be certain that no portion of his body was +exposed; and he found a place in a little depression at the edge of the +fissure that seemed suitable. Then he raised his head above the little +ridge that concealed him from his enemies. +</P> + +<P> +He saw them all—every man of them. Some of them were crouching; some +were lying prone—apparently resting; still others were sitting, their +backs against their protection—waiting. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson took his rifle by the barrel and with the stock forced a +channel through some rotted rock on the top of the little ridge that +afforded him concealment. When he had dug the channel deeply +enough—so that he could aim the weapon without exposing his head—he +stuck the rifle barrel into the channel and shouted to the Dale men: +</P> + +<P> +"This game is played out, boys! I'm behind you. You can't hide any +longer. I give you fair warning that if you don't come out within a +minute, throwin' your guns away an' holdin' up your hands, I'll pick +you off, one by one! That goes!" +</P> + +<P> +There was sincerity in Sanderson's voice, but the men doubted. +Sanderson saw them look around, but it was plain to him that they could +not tell from which direction his voice came. +</P> + +<P> +"Bluffin'!" scoffed a man who was in plain view of Sanderson; the very +man, indeed, upon whom Sanderson had his rifle trained. +</P> + +<P> +"Bluffin', eh?" replied Sanderson grimly. "I've got a bead on you. At +the end of one minute—if you don't toss your guns away and step out, +holdin' up your hands, I'll bore you—plenty!" +</P> + +<P> +Half a minute passed and the man did not move. He was crouching, and +his gaze swept the edge of the fissure from which Sanderson's voice +seemed to come. His face was white, his eyes wide with the fear of +death. +</P> + +<P> +Just when it seemed that Sanderson must shoot to make his statement and +threat convincing, the man shouted: +</P> + +<P> +"This game's too certain—for me, I'm through!" +</P> + +<P> +He threw his weapons away, so that they went bounding and clattering to +the foot of the slope. Then he again faced the fissure, shouting: +</P> + +<P> +"I know I've caved, an' you know I've caved. But what about them guys +on the other side, there? They'll be blowin' me apart if I go to +showin' myself." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson called to Williams and the others, telling them the men were +going to surrender, and warning them to look out for treachery. +</P> + +<P> +"If one of them tries any monkey-shines, nail him!" he ordered. +"There's eleven of them that ain't been touched—an' some more that +ain't as active as they might be. But they can bend a gun handy +enough. Don't take any chances!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson ordered the man to step out. He did so, gingerly, as though +he expected to be shot. When he was in plain view of Sanderson's men, +Sanderson ordered him to descend the slope and stand beside a huge rock +ledge. He watched while the man descended; then he called to the +others: +</P> + +<P> +"Step up an' take your medicine! One at a time! Guns first. +Williams!" he called. "You get their guns as fast as they come down. +I'll see that none of them plug you while you're doin' it!" +</P> + +<P> +There was no hitch in the surrender; and no attempt to shoot Williams. +One by one the men dropped their weapons down the slope. +</P> + +<P> +When all the men had reached the bottom of the defile Sanderson climbed +down and asked the first man who had surrendered where they had left +their horses. The animals were brought, and the men forced to mount +them. Then, the Dale men riding ahead, Sanderson and the others +behind, they began the return trip. +</P> + +<P> +When they reached the open country above the defile, Sanderson rode +close to Williams. +</P> + +<P> +"There's enough of you to take care of this gang," he said, indicating +the prisoners; "I'm goin' to hit the breeze to the Double A an' see +what's happened there!" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure!" agreed Williams. "Beat it!" +</P> + +<P> +When Streak got the word he leaped forward at a pace that gave Williams +an idea of how he had gained his name. He flashed by the head of the +moving columns and vanished into the growing darkness, running with +long, swift, sure leaps that took him over the ground like a feather +before a hurricane. +</P> + +<P> +But fast as he went, he did not travel too rapidly for Sanderson. For +in Sanderson's heart also lurked a premonition of evil. But he did not +fear it; it grimmed his lips, it made his eyes blaze with a wanton, +savage fire; it filled his heart with a bitter passion to slay the man +who had stayed behind at the Double A ranchhouse. +</P> + +<P> +And he urged Streak to additional effort, heading him recklessly +through sections of country where a stumble meant disaster, lifting him +on the levels, and riding all the time with only one thought in +mind—speed, speed, speed. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap33"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIII +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MAN LEAVES OKAR +</H3> + +<P> +Riding the hard trail through the basin, from its neck at Okar to the +broad, upward slope that led to the Double A ranchhouse, came another +man, who also was sacrificing everything to speed. His horse was +fresh, and he spared it not at all as he swept in long, smooth, swift +undulations over the floor of the basin. +</P> + +<P> +Ben Nyland's lips were as straight and hard as were those of the other +man who was racing toward the Double A from another direction; his face +was as grim, and his thoughts were as bitter and savage. +</P> + +<P> +When he reached the bottom of the long, gentle slope that stretched to +the Double A ranchhouse he did not spare his horse. The terrible spurs +sank in again and again, stirring the animal to a frenzy of effort, and +he rushed up the slope as though it were a level, snorting with pain +and fury, but holding the pace his rider demanded of him. +</P> + +<P> +And when he reached the corral fence near the Double A ranchhouse, and +his rider dismounted and ran forward, the horse heaved a sigh of relief +and stood, bracing his legs to keep from falling, his breath coming in +terrific heaves. +</P> + +<P> +An instant after his arrival Ben Nyland was in side the Double A +ranchhouse, pistol in hand. He tore through the rooms in the darkness, +stumbling over the furniture, knocking it hither and there as it +interfered with his progress. +</P> + +<P> +He found no one. Accidentally colliding with the table in the kitchen, +he searched its top and discovered thereon a kerosene lamp. Lighting +it with fingers that trembled, he looked around him. +</P> + +<P> +There were signs of the confusion that had reigned during the day. He +saw on the floor the rope that had encircled Dale's neck—one end of it +was tied to the fastenings of the kitchen door. +</P> + +<P> +The tied rope was a mystery to Nyland, but it suggested hanging to his +thoughts, already lurid, and he leaped for the pantry. There he grimly +viewed the wreck and turned away, muttering. +</P> + +<P> +"He's been here an' gone," he said, meaning Dale; "them's his +marks—ruin." +</P> + +<P> +Blowing out the light he went to the front door, paused in it and then +went out upon the porch, from where he could look northeastward at the +edge of the mesa surmounting the big slope that merged into the floor +of the basin. +</P> + +<P> +Faintly outlined against the luminous dark blue of the sky, he caught +the leaping silhouette of a horse and rider. He grinned coldly, and +stepped back into the shadow of the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"That's him, damn him!" he said. "He's comin' back!" +</P> + +<P> +He had not long to wait. He saw the leaping silhouette disappear, +seeming to sink into the earth, but he knew that horse and rider were +descending the slope; that it would not be long before they would +thunder up to the ranchhouse—and he gripped the butt of his gun until +his fingers ached. +</P> + +<P> +He saw a blot appear from the dark shadows of the slope and come +rushing toward him. He could hear the heave and sob of the horse's +breath as it ran, and in another instant the animal came to a sliding +halt near the edge of the porch, the rider threw himself out of the +saddle and ran forward. +</P> + +<P> +At the first step taken by the man after he reached the porch edge, he +was halted by Nyland's sharp: +</P> + +<P> +"Hands up!" +</P> + +<P> +And at the sound of the other's voice the newcomer cried out in +astonishment: +</P> + +<P> +"Ben Nyland! What in hell are you doin' here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lookin' for Dale," said the other, hoarsely. "Thought you was him, +an' come pretty near borin' you. What saved you was a notion I had of +wantin' Dale to know what I was killin' him for! Pretty close, Deal!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you want to kill him?" +</P> + +<P> +"For what he done to Peggy—damn him! He sneaked into the house an' +hurt her head, draggin' her to Okar—to Maison's. I've killed Maison, +an' I'll kill him!" +</P> + +<P> +"He ain't here, then—Dale ain't?" demanded Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"They ain't nobody here," gruffly announced Nyland. "They've been +here, an' gone. Dale, most likely. The house looks like a twister had +struck it!" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson was inside before Nyland ceased speaking. He found the lamp, +lit it, and looked around the interior, noting the partially destroyed +lounge and the other wrecked furniture, strewn around the rooms. He +went out again and met Nyland on the porch. +</P> + +<P> +One look at Sanderson told Nyland what was in the latter's mind, and he +said: +</P> + +<P> +"He's at the Bar D, most likely. We'll get him!" +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't takin' no chance of missin' him," Sanderson shot back at +Nyland as they mounted their horses; "you fan it to Okar an' I'll head +for his shack!" +</P> + +<P> +Nyland's agreement to this plan was manifested by his actions. He said +nothing, but rode beside Sanderson for a mile or so, then he veered off +and rode at an angle which would take him to the neck of the basin, +while Sanderson, turning slightly northward, headed Streak for Dale's +ranch. +</P> + +<P> +Halfway between the Double A and the neck of the basin, Nyland came +upon the sheriff and his posse. The posse halted Nyland, thinking he +might be Dale, but upon discovering the error allowed the man to +proceed—after he had told them that Sanderson was safe and was riding +toward the Bar D. Sanderson, Nyland said, was after Dale. He did not +say that he, too, wanted to see Dale. +</P> + +<P> +"Dale!" mocked the sheriff, "Barney Owen hung him!" +</P> + +<P> +"Dale's alive, an' in Okar—or somewhere!" Nyland flung back at them as +he raced toward town. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon we might as well go back," said the sheriff to his men. "The +clean-up has took place, an' it's all over—or Sanderson wouldn't be +back. We'll go back to Okar an' have a talk with Silverthorn. An' +mebbe, if Dale's around, we'll run into him." +</P> + +<P> +The posse, led by the sheriff, returned to Okar. Within five minutes +after his arrival in town the sheriff was confronting Silverthorn in +the latter's office in the railroad station. The posse waited. +</P> + +<P> +"It comes to this, Silverthorn," said the sheriff. "We ain't got any +evidence that you had a hand in killing those men at Devil's Hole. But +there ain't a man—an honest man—in town that ain't convinced that you +did have a hand in it. What I want to say to you is this: +</P> + +<P> +"Sanderson and Nyland are running maverick around the country tonight. +Nyland has killed Maison and is hunting for Dale. Sanderson and his +men have cleaned up the bunch of guys that went out this morning to +wipe Sanderson out. And Sanderson is looking for Dale. And after he +gets Dale he'll come for you, for he's seeing red, for sure. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't interfering. This is one of the times when the law don't see +anything—and don't want to see anything. I won't touch Nyland for +killing Maison, and I won't lay a finger on Sanderson if he shoots the +gizzard out of you. There's a train out of here in fifteen minutes. I +give you your chance—take the train or take your chance with +Sanderson!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll take the train," declared Silverthorn. +</P> + +<P> +Fifteen minutes later, white and scared, he was sitting in a coach, +cringing far back into one of the seats, cursing, for it seemed to him +that the train would never start. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap34"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIV +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MAN GETS A SQUARE DEAL +</H3> + +<P> +Dale did not miss Ben Nyland by more than a few hundred yards as he +passed through the neck of the basin. But the men could not see each +other in the black shadows cast by the somber mountains that guarded +the entrance to the basin, and so they sped on, one headed away from +Okar and one toward it, each man nursing his bitter thoughts; one +intent on killing and the other riding to escape the death that, he +felt, was imminent. +</P> + +<P> +Dale reached the Bar D and pulled the saddle and bridle from his horse. +He caught up a fresh animal, threw saddle and bridle on him, and then +ran into the house to get some things that he thought might be valuable +to him. +</P> + +<P> +He came out again, and nervously paused on the threshold of the door to +listen. +</P> + +<P> +A sound reached his ears—the heavy drumming of a horse's hoofs on the +hard sand in the vicinity of the ranchhouse; and Dale gulped down his +fear as he ran to his horse, threw himself into the saddle and raced +around a corner of the house. +</P> + +<P> +He had hardly vanished into the gloom of the night when another rider +burst into view. +</P> + +<P> +The second rider was Sanderson. He did not halt Streak at the door of +the Bar D ranchhouse, for from a distance he had seen a man throw +himself upon a horse and dash away, and he knew of no man in the basin, +except Dale, who would find it necessary to run from his home in that +fashion. +</P> + +<P> +So he kept Streak in the dead run he had been in when approaching the +house, and when he reached the corner around which Dale had vanished, +he saw his man, two or three hundred yards ahead, flashing across a +level toward the far side of the big basin. +</P> + +<P> +He knew that Dale thought his pursuer was Nyland, and that thought gave +Sanderson a grim joy. In Sanderson's mind was a picture of Dale's +face—of the stark, naked astonishment that would be on it when he +discovered that it was Sanderson and not Nyland who had caught him. +</P> + +<P> +For Sanderson would catch him—he was convinced of that. +</P> + +<P> +The conviction became strengthened when, after half an hour's run, +Streak had pulled up on Dale. Sanderson could see that Dale's horse +was running erratically; that it faltered on the slight rises that they +came to now and then. And when Sanderson discovered that Dale's horse +was failing, he urged Streak to a faster pace. In an hour the space +between the two riders had become less. They were climbing the long, +gradual slope that led upward out of the basin when Dale's horse +stumbled and fell, throwing Dale out of the saddle. +</P> + +<P> +There was something horribly final in the manner of Dale's falling, for +he tumbled heavily and lay perfectly quiet afterward. His horse, after +rising, stumbled on a few steps and fell again. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson, fully alive to the danger of haste, rode slowly toward the +fallen man. He was taking no chances, for Dale might be shamming in an +effort to shoot Sanderson as he came forward. +</P> + +<P> +But Dale was not shamming. Dismounting and drawing his pistol, +Sanderson went forward. Dale did not move, and when at last Sanderson +stood over the fallen man he saw that his eyes were closed and that a +great gash had been cut in his forehead near the right temple. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson saw that the man was badly hurt, but to make sure of him he +drew Dale's pistol from its sheath and searched his clothing for other +weapons—finding another pistol in a pocket, and a knife in a belt. +These he threw into some brush near by, and then he bent over the man. +</P> + +<P> +Dale was unconscious, and despite all Sanderson could do, he remained +so. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson examined the wound in his temple, and discovered that it was +deep and ragged—such a wound as a jagged stone might make. +</P> + +<P> +It was midnight when Sanderson ceased his efforts and decided that Dale +would die. He pitied the man, but he felt no pang of regret, for Dale +had brought his death upon himself. Sanderson wondered, standing +there, looking down at Dale, whether he would have killed the man. He +decided that he would have killed him. +</P> + +<P> +"But that ain't no reason why I should let him die after he's had an +accident," he told himself. "I'll get him to Okar—to the doctor. +Then, after the doc patches him up—if he can—an' I still think he +needs killing I'll do it." +</P> + +<P> +So he brought Dale's horse near. The animal had had a long rest, and +had regained his strength. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson bent to Dale and lifted his shoulders, so that he might get +an arm under him, to carry him to his horse. But at the first movement +Dale groaned and opened his eyes, looking directly into Sanderson's. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't!" he said, "for God's sake, don't! You'll break me apart! It's +my back—it's broke. I've felt you workin' around me for hours. But +it won't do any good—I'm done. I can feel myself goin'." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson laid him down again and knelt beside him. +</P> + +<P> +"You're Sanderson," said Dale, after a time. "I thought it was Nyland +chasin' me for a while. Then I heard you talkin' to your horse an' I +knew it was you. Why don't you kill me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon the Lord is doin' that," said Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—He is. Well, the Lord ain't ever done anything for me." +</P> + +<P> +He was silent for a moment. Then: +</P> + +<P> +"I want to tell you somethin', Sanderson. I've tried to hate you, but +I ain't never succeeded. I've admired you. I've cussed myself for +doin' it, but I couldn't help it. An' because I couldn't hate you, I +tried my best to do things that would make you hate me. +</P> + +<P> +"I've deviled Mary Bransford because I thought it would stir you up. I +don't care anything for her—it's Peggy Nyland that I like. Mebbe I'd +have done the square thing to her—if I'd been let alone—an' if she'd +have liked me. Peggy's better, ain't she? When I saw her after—after +I saw Maison layin' there, choked to——" +</P> + +<P> +"So you saw Maison—dead, you say?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ben Nyland guzzled him," Dale's lips wreathed in a cynical smile. +"Ben thought Maison had brought Peggy to his rooms. You knowed Maison +was dead?" +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you must have been to Okar." He groaned. "Where's Ben Nyland?" +</P> + +<P> +"In Okar. He's lookin' for you." Sanderson leaned closer to the man +and spoke sharply to him. "Look here, Dale; you were at the Double A. +What has become of Mary Bransford?" +</P> + +<P> +"She went away with Barney Owen—to Okar. Nobody hurt her," he said, +as he saw Sanderson's eyes glow. "She's all right—she's with her +brother." +</P> + +<P> +He saw Sanderson's eyes; they were filled with an expression of +incredulity; and a late moon, just showing its rim above the edge of +the mesa above them, flooded the slope with a brilliancy that made it +possible for Dale to see another expression in Sanderson's eyes—an +expression which told him that Sanderson thought his mind was wandering. +</P> + +<P> +He laughed, weakly. +</P> + +<P> +"You think I'm loco, eh? Well, I ain't. Barney Owen ain't Barney Owen +at all—he's Will Bransford. I found that out yesterday," he +continued, soberly, as Sanderson looked quickly at him. "I had some +men down to Tombstone way, lookin' him up. +</P> + +<P> +"When old Bransford showed me the letter that you took away from me, I +knew Will Bransford was in Tombstone; an' when Mary sent that thousand +to him I set a friend of mine—Gary Miller—onto him. Gary an' two of +his friends salivated young Bransford, but he turned up, later, minus +the money, in Tombstone. Another friend of mine sent me word—an' a +description of him. Barney Owen is Bransford. +</P> + +<P> +"Just what happened to Gary Miller an' his two friends has bothered me +a heap," went on Dale. +</P> + +<P> +"They was to come this way, to help me in this deal. But they never +showed up." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson smiled, and Dale's eyes gleamed. +</P> + +<P> +"You know what's become of him!" he charged. "That's where you got +that thousand you give to Mary Bransford—an' the papers, showin' that +young Bransford was due here. Ain't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't sayin'," said Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," declared Dale, "Barney Owen is Will Bransford. The night +Morley got him drunk we went the limit with Owen, an' he talked enough +to make me suspicious. That's why I sent to Tombstone to find out how +he looked. We had the evidence to show the court at Las Vegas. We was +goin' to prove you wasn't young Bransford, an' then we was goin' to put +Owen out of the—" +</P> + +<P> +Dale gasped, caught his breath, and stiffened. +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson stayed with him until the dawn, sitting, quietly beside him +until the end. Then Sanderson got up, threw the body on Dale's horse, +mounted his own, and set out across the basin toward Okar. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap35"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXV +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A DEAL IN LOVE +</H3> + +<P> +A few days later Mary Bransford, Sanderson, and Barney Owen were +sitting on the porch of the Double A ranchhouse, near where they had +sat on the day Mary and Owen and the Dale men had seen Sanderson riding +along the edge of the mesa in his pursuit of Williams and the others. +</P> + +<P> +Mary and Sanderson were sitting rather close together at one end of the +porch; Barney Owen was sitting near them, on the porch edge, his elbows +resting on his knees. +</P> + +<P> +There had been a silence between the three for some time, but at last +Sanderson broke it. He smiled at Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll build that dam—an' the irrigation plant now, mebbe," he said. +"But it's goin' to be a big job. Williams says it will take a year, or +more." +</P> + +<P> +"There will be difficulties, too, I suppose," said Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." +</P> + +<P> +"But difficulties do not worry you," she went on, giving him a glowing +look. +</P> + +<P> +He blushed. "We promised each other not to refer to that again," he +protested. "You are breaking your promise." +</P> + +<P> +"I just can't help it!" she declared. "I feel so good over your +victory. Why, it really wasn't your affair at all, and yet you came +here, fought our fight for us; and then, when it is all over, you wish +us to say nothing about it! That isn't fair!" +</P> + +<P> +He grinned. "Was you fair?" he charged. +</P> + +<P> +"You told me the other day that you knew, the day after I ordered Dale +away from the Double A—after tellin' you that I wasn't what I claimed +to be—that Barney Owen wasn't Barney Owen at all, but your brother. +</P> + +<P> +"An' you let me go on, not tellin' me. An' he didn't do a heap of +talkin'. I ain't mentioned it until now, but I've wondered why? +Barney knew from the first day that I wasn't what I pretended to be. +Why didn't you tell me, Barney?" +</P> + +<P> +Mary was blushing, and Barney's face was red. His eyes met Mary's and +both pairs were lowered, guiltily. +</P> + +<P> +Barney turned to Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at me!" he said. "Do I look like a man who could fight Dale, +Silverthorn, and Maison—and the gang they had—with any hope of +victory? When I got here—after escaping Gary Miller and the others—I +was all in—sick and weak. It didn't take me long to see how things +were. But I knew I couldn't do anything. +</P> + +<P> +"I was waiting, though, for Gary Miller and his friends to come, to +claim the Double A. I would have killed them. But they didn't come. +You came. +</P> + +<P> +"At first I was not sure what to think of you. But I saw sympathy in +your eyes when you looked at Mary, and when you told Dale that you were +Will Bransford, I decided to keep silent. You looked capable, and when +I saw that you were willing to fight for Mary, why—why—I just let you +go. I—I was afraid that if I'd tell you who I was you'd throw up the +whole deal. And so I didn't say anything." +</P> + +<P> +Sanderson grinned. "That's the reason you was so willin' to sign all +the papers that wanted Will Bransford's signature. I sure was a +boxhead for not tumblin' to that." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed, meeting Mary's gaze and holding it. +</P> + +<P> +"Talkin' of throwin' up the deal," he said. "That couldn't be. Dale +an' Silverthorn an' Maison an' their gang of cutthroats couldn't make +me give it up. There's only one person could make me do that. She'd +only have to say that she don't think as much of me as I think she +ought to. And, then——" +</P> + +<P> +"She'll keep pretty silent about that, I think," interrupted Owen, +grinning at the girl's crimson face. +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't be takin' your word for it," grinned Sanderson, "it +wouldn't be reliable." +</P> + +<P> +"Why—" began Mary, and looked at Owen. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," he laughed, "I'll go and take a walk. There are times when +three can't explain a thing as well as two." +</P> + +<P> +There was a silence following Owen's departure. +</P> + +<P> +Then Mary looked shyly at Sanderson, who was watching her with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Does it need any explaining?" she began. "Can't you see that——" +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks, little girl," he said gently, as he leaned toward her, "words +ain't—well, words ain't so awful important, are they?" +</P> + +<P> +Apparently words were not important. For within the next few minutes +there were few spoken. And progress was made without them. And then: +</P> + +<P> +"I believe I never was so happy as when I saw you, that morning, coming +in to Okar with Dale's body, and you said you had not killed him. And +if Barney—Will, had killed him that day—if he had really hanged him, +and Dale had died from it—I should have kept seeing Dale as he was +hanging there all my life." +</P> + +<P> +"It was Dale's day," said Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +"And Okar's!" declared the girl. "The town has taken on a new spirit +since those men have left. And the whole basin has changed. Men are +more interested and eager. There is an atmosphere of fellowship that +was absent before. And, oh, Deal, how happy I am!" +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't got anything on me!" grinned Sanderson. +</P> + +<P> +And presently, looking toward the rim of the mesa, they saw Williams +and his men coming toward them from Lazette, with many wagons, loaded +with supplies and material for the new dam, forecasting a new day and a +new prosperity for the Double A—and themselves. +</P> + +<P> +"That's for a new deal," said Sanderson, watching the wagons and men. +</P> + +<P> +"Wrong," she laughed, happily, "it is all for a 'Square' Deal!" +</P> + +<P> +"All?" he returned, grinning at her. +</P> + +<P> +"All," she repeated, snuggling close to him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SQUARE DEAL SANDERSON***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 16597-h.txt or 16597-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/5/9/16597">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/5/9/16597</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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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Allen St. John + + +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: Square Deal Sanderson + + +Author: Charles Alden Seltzer + + + +Release Date: August 25, 2005 [eBook #16597] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SQUARE DEAL SANDERSON*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 16597-h.htm or 16597-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/5/9/16597/16597-h/16597-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/5/9/16597/16597-h.zip) + + + + + +SQUARE DEAL SANDERSON + +by + +CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER + +Author of +The Boss of the Lazy Y, "Beau" Rand, "Drag" Harlan, The Ranchman, etc. + +Frontispiece by J. Allen St. John + +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers --- New York + +Published, March, 1922 + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Out of the valley went Streak, running with long, smooth +leaps.] + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I The North Trail + II A Man's Curiosity + III "Square" Deal Sanderson + IV In Which a Man Is Sympathetic + V Water and Kisses + VI Sanderson Lies + VII Kisses--A Man Refuses Them + VIII The Plotters + IX The Little Man Talks + X Plain Talk + XI The Ultimatum + XII Dale Moves + XIII A Plot that Worked + XIV The Voice of the Coyote + XV Dale Pays a Visit + XVI The Hand of the Enemy + XVII The Trail Herd + XVIII Checked by the System + XIX A Question of Brands + XX Devil's Hole + XXI A Man Borrows Money + XXII A Man from the Abyss + XXIII The Gunman + XXIV Concerning a Woman + XXV A Man Is Aroused + XXVI A Man Is Hanged + XXVII The Ambush + XXVIII Nyland Meets a Killer + XXIX Nyland's Vengeance + XXX The Law Takes a Hand + XXXI The Fugitive + XXXII Winning a Fight + XXXIII A Man Leaves Okar + XXXIV A Man Gets a Square Deal + XXXV A Deal in Love + + + + +Square Deal Sanderson + + +CHAPTER I + +THE NORTH RAID + +An hour before, Deal Sanderson had opened his eyes. He had been +comfortably wrapped in his blanket; his head had been resting on a saddle +seat. His sleep over, he had discovered that the saddle seat felt hard +to his cheek. In changing his position he had awakened. His face toward +the east, he had seen a gray streak widening on the horizon--a herald of +the dawn. + +Sanderson found what seemed to be a softer spot on the saddle, snuggled +himself in the blanket, and went to sleep again. Of course he had not +neglected to take one sweeping glance around the camp while awake, and +that one glance had convinced him that the camp was in order. + +The fire had long since gone out--there was a heap of white ashes to mark +the spot where it had been. His big brown horse--Streak--unencumbered by +rope or leather, was industriously cropping the dew-laden blades of some +bunch-grass within a dozen yards of him; and the mighty desolation of the +place was as complete as it had seemed when he had pitched his camp the +night before. + +Sanderson reveled in the luxury of complete idleness. He grinned at the +widening streak of dawn as he closed his eyes. There would be no +vitriolic-voiced cook to bawl commands at him _this_ morning. And no +sour-faced range boss to issue curt orders. + +In an hour or so--perhaps in two hours--Sanderson would crawl out of his +blanket, get his own breakfast, and ride northeastward. He was a free +agent now, and would be until he rode in to the Double A to assume his +new duties. + +Judging by the light, Sanderson had slept a full hour when he again +awakened. He stretched, yawned, and grinned at the brown horse. + +"You're still a-goin' it, Streak, eh?" he said, aloud. "I'd say you've +got a medium appetite. There's times when I envy you quite considerable." + +Reluctantly Sanderson sat up and looked around. He had pitched his camp +at the edge of a thicket of alder and aspen near a narrow stream of water +in a big arroyo. Fifty feet from the camp rose the sloping north wall of +the arroyo, with some dwarf spruce trees fringing its edge. Sanderson +had taken a look at the section of country visible from the arroyo edge +before pitching his camp. There were featureless sand hills and a wide +stretch of desert. + +Sanderson started to get to his feet. Then he sat down again, stiffening +slowly, his right hand slipping quickly to the butt of the pistol at his +right hip. His chin went forward, his lips straightened, and his eyes +gleamed with cold alertness. + +A horseman had appeared from somewhere in the vast space beyond the +arroyo edge. Sanderson saw the outlines of animal and rider as they +appeared for an instant, partly screened from him by the trees and +undergrowth on the arroyo edge. Then horse and rider vanished, going +northward, away from the arroyo, silently, swiftly. + +Schooled to caution by his long experience in a section of country where +violence and sudden death were not even noteworthy incidents of life, and +where a man's safety depended entirely upon his own vigilance and wisdom, +Sanderson got up carefully, making no noise, slipped around the thicket +of alder, crouched behind a convenient rock, huge and jagged, and waited. + +Perhaps the incident was closed. The rider might be innocent of any evil +intentions; he might by this time be riding straight away from the +arroyo. That was for Sanderson to determine. + +The rider of the horse--a black one--had seemed to be riding stealthily, +leaning forward over the black horse's mane as though desirous of +concealing his movements as much as possible. From whom? + +It had seemed that he feared Sanderson would see him; that he had +misjudged his distance from the gully--thinking he was far enough away to +escape observation, and yet not quite certain, crouching in the saddle to +be on the safe side in case he was nearer than he had thought. + +Sanderson waited--for only a few minutes actually, but the time seemed +longer. Then, just when he was mentally debating an impulse to climb to +the top of the gully, to see if the rider was in sight, he heard a sound +as of a heavy body crashing through some underbrush, and saw two riders +skirting the edge of the arroyo near him. + +They halted their horses back of the spruce trees near the arroyo edge. +The rank undergrowth in the timber prevented them seeing Sanderson's +horse--which was further concealed by the thicket of alder. The men, +however, did not look into the arroyo. Their attention and interest +appeared to be centered upon the actions of the first horseman. Sitting +erect in their saddles, they shaded their eyes with their hands and gazed +northward. + +After a short look, one of the men laughed, unpleasantly. + +"Sneakin'--he is," said the one who laughed. "Knows we're campin' on his +trail, an' reckons on givin' us the slip. I never thought Bill would go +back on his friends thataway. We'll make him sweat, damn him!" + +The other cursed, also. "Hoggin' it, he is," he said. "I ain't never +trusted him. He won't divvy, eh? Well, he won't need it where he's +goin'." + +Both laughed. Then one said, coldly: "Well, I reckon we won't take +chances on losin' him again--like we did last night. We'll get him right +now!" + +They urged their horses away from the edge of the gully. Sanderson could +hear the clatter of hoofs, receding. He had heard, plainly, all the +conversation between the two. + +There was a grin of slight relief on Sanderson's face. The men were not +aiming at him, but at the first rider. It was clear that all were +concerned in a personal quarrel which was no concern of Sanderson's. It +was also apparent to Sanderson that the two men who had halted at the +edge of the arroyo were not of the type that contributed to the peace and +order of the country. + +Plainly, they were of the lower strata of riffraff which had drifted into +the West to exact its toll from a people who could not claim the +protection of a law that was remote and impotent. + +Sanderson suspected that the first rider had been concerned in some +lawless transaction with the other two, and that the first rider had +decamped with the entire spoils. That much was indicated by the words of +the two. Dire punishment for the first man was imminent. + +Sanderson had no sympathy for the first rider. He felt, though, a slight +curiosity over the probable outcome of the affair, and so, working +rapidly, he broke camp, threw saddle and bridle on the white horse, +strapped his slicker to the cantle of the saddle, and rode the brown +horse up the slope of the arroyo, taking the direction in which the three +men had disappeared. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A MAN'S CURIOSITY + +By the time Sanderson urged the brown horse up the crest of the slope, +the men he had determined to follow were far out in the desert. +Sanderson could see them, though the distance was considerable, riding +the crest of a ridge, directly northeastward. As that was following +the general direction in which Sanderson wanted to travel he was highly +pleased. + +"They're company," he told himself as he rode; "an' I've been a heap +lonesome." + +The men were not traveling fast. At times, when the first rider was +compelled to traverse high ground, Sanderson could see him--horse and +rider faintly outlined against the sky. Sanderson would note the +figure of the first rider, then watch the point at which the first +rider appeared until the others reached that point. Then, noting the +elapsed time, he could estimate the distance at which the pursuers +followed. + +"I reckon they're gainin' on him," was Sanderson's mental comment when +an hour later he saw the first rider appear for a moment on the sky +line, vanish, reappear for an instant, only to be followed within a few +minutes by the figures of the other men. + +Sanderson was closing up the space that separated him from the two men, +and by that medium he knew they were not traveling rapidly, for the +brown horse was loping slowly. Thus he knew that the first man was not +yet aware that he was being followed. + +But some time later to Sanderson's ears was borne the faint, muffled +report of a firearm, and he smiled solemnly. + +"That first guy will know, now," he told himself. Sanderson kept +steadily on. In half an hour he heard half a dozen rifle reports in +quick succession, He could see the smoke puffs of the weapons, and he +knew the pursuit was over. + +The second riders had brought the first to bay in a section of broken +country featured by small, rock-strewn hills. By watching the smoke +balloon upward, Sanderson could determine the location of the men. + +It seemed to Sanderson that the two had separated, one swinging +westward and the other eastward, in an endeavor to render hazardous any +concealment the other might find. It was the old game of getting an +enemy between two fires, and Sanderson's lips curved with an +appreciative grin as he noted the fact. + +"Old-timers," he said. + +It was not Sanderson's affair. He told himself that many times as he +rode slowly forward. To his knowledge the country was cursed with too +many men of the type the two appeared to be; and as he had no doubt +that the other man was of that type also, they would be doing the +country a service were they to annihilate one another. + +Sanderson, though, despite his conviction, felt a pulse of sympathy for +the first rider. It was that emotion which impelled him to keep going +cautiously forward when, by all the rules of life in that country, he +should have stood at a distance to allow the men to fight it out among +themselves. + +Sanderson's interest grew as the fight progressed. When he had +approached as far as he safely could without endangering his own life +and that of Streak, he dismounted at the bottom of a small hill, +trailed the reins over Streak's head and, carrying his rifle, made his +way stealthily to the crest of the hill. There, concealed behind an +irregularly shaped boulder, he peered at the combatants. + +He had heard several reports while dismounting and ascending the hill, +and by the time he looked over the crest he saw that the battle was +over. He saw the three men grouped about a cluster of rocks on a hill +not more than a hundred yards distant. Two of the men were bending +over the third, who was stretched out on his back, motionless. It +appeared to Sanderson that the two men were searching the pockets of +the other, for they were fumbling at the other's clothing and, +seemingly, putting something into their own pockets. + +Sanderson scowled. Now that the fight was over, he was at liberty to +investigate; the ethics of life in the country did not forbid +that--though many men had found it as dangerous as interference. + +Sanderson stood up, within full view of the two men, and hailed them. + +"What's bitin' you guys?" he said. + +The two men wheeled, facing Sanderson. The latter's answer came in the +shape of a rifle bullet, the weapon fired from the hip of one of the +men--a snapshot. + +Sanderson had observed the movement almost as soon as it had begun, and +he threw himself head-long behind the shelter of the rock at his side +as the bullet droned over his head. + +If Sanderson had entertained any thought of the two men being +representatives of the law, trailing a wrongdoer, that thought would +have been dispelled by the action of the men in shooting at him. He +was now certain the men were what he had taken them to be, and he +grinned felinely as he squirmed around until he got into a position +from which he could see them. But when he did get into position the +men had vanished. + +However, Sanderson was not misled. He knew they had secreted +themselves behind some of the rocks in the vicinity, no doubt to wait a +reasonable time before endeavoring to discover whether the bullet had +accomplished its sinister object. + +Sanderson's grin grew broader. He had the men at a disadvantage. +Their horses, he had observed before calling to them, were in a little +depression at the right--and entirely out of reach of the men. + +To get to them they would have to expose themselves on an open stretch +between the spot where the horses were concealed and the hill on which +they were secreted, and on the open stretch they would be fair targets +for Sanderson. + +The men had brought Sanderson into the fight, and he no longer had any +scruples. He was grimly enjoying himself, and he laid for an hour, +flat on his stomach behind the rock, his rifle muzzle projecting +between two medium-sized stones near the base of the large rock, his +eye trained along the barrel, watching the crest of the hill on which +the men were concealed. + +The first man was dead. Sanderson could see him, prone, motionless, +rigid. + +Evidently the two men were doubtful. Certainly they were cautious. +But at the end of an hour their curiosity must have conquered them, for +Sanderson, still alert and watchful, saw a dark blot slowly appear from +around the bulging side of a rock. + +The blot grew slowly larger, until Sanderson saw that it appeared to be +the crown of a hat. That it was a hat he made certain after a few +seconds of intent scrutiny; and that it was a hat without any head in +it he was also convinced, for he held his fire. An instant later the +hat was withdrawn. Then it came out again, and was held there for +several seconds. + +Sanderson grinned. "I reckon they think I'm a yearlin'," was his +mental comment. + +There was another long wait. Sanderson could picture the two men +arguing the question that must deeply concern them: "Which shall be the +first to show himself?" + +"I'd bet a million they're drawin' straws," grinned Sanderson. + +Whether that method decided the question Sanderson never knew. He +knew, however, that a hat was slowly coming into view around a side of +the rock, and he was positive that this time there was a head in the +hat. He could not have told now he knew there was a head in the hat, +but that was his conviction. + +The hat appeared slowly, gradually taking on definite shape in +Sanderson's eyes, until, with a cold grin, he noted some brown flesh +beneath it, and a section of dark beard. + +Sanderson did not fire, then. The full head followed the hat, then +came a man's shoulders. Nothing happened. The man stepped from behind +the rock and stood out in full view. Still nothing happened. + +The man grinned. + +"I reckon we got him, Cal," he said. His voice was gloating. "I +reckoned I'd got him; he tumbled sorta offish--like it had got him in +the guts. That's what I aimed for, anyway. I reckon he done suffered +some, eh?" He guffawed, loudly. + +Then the other man appeared. He, too, was grinning. + +"I reckon we'll go see. If you got him where you said you got him, I +reckon he done a lot of squirmin'. Been followin' us--you reckon?" + +They descended the slope of the hill, still talking. Evidently, +Sanderson's silence had completely convinced them that they had killed +him. + +But halfway down the hill, one of the men, watching the rock near +Sanderson as he walked, saw the muzzle of Sanderson's rifle projecting +from between the two rocks. + +For the second time since the appearance of Sanderson on the scene the +man discharged his rifle from the hip, and for the second time he +missed the target. + +Sanderson, however, did not miss. His rifle went off, and the man fell +without a sound. The other, paralyzed from the shock, stood for an +instant, irresolute, then, seeming to discover from where Sanderson's +bullet had come, he raised his rifle. + +Sanderson's weapon crashed again. The second man shuddered, spun +violently around, and pitched headlong down the slope. + +Sanderson came from behind the rock, grinning mirthlessly. He knew +where his bullets had gone, and he took no precautions when he emerged +from his hiding place and approached the men. + +"That's all, for you, I reckon," he said. + +Leaving them, he went to the top of the hill and bent over the other +man. A bullet fairly in the center of the man's forehead told +eloquently of the manner of his death. + +The man's face was not of so villainous a cast as the others. There +were marks of a past refinement on it; as there were also lines of +dissipation. + +"I reckon this guy was all wool an' a yard wide, in his time," said +Sanderson; "but from the looks of him he was tryin' to live it down. +Now, we'll see what them other guys was goin' through his clothes for." + +Sanderson knelt beside the man. From an inner pocket of the latter's +coat he drew a letter--faded and soiled, as though it had been read +much. There was another letter--a more recent one, undoubtedly, for +the paper was in much better condition. + +Sanderson looked at both envelopes, and finally selected the most +soiled one. He hesitated an instant, and then withdrew the contents +and read: + + +MR. WILLIAM BRANSFORD, + +Tucson, Arizona. + +DEAR BROTHER WILL: The last time I heard from you, you were in Tucson. +That was ten years ago, and it seems an awful long time. I suppose it +is too much to hope that you are still there, but it is that hope which +is making me write this letter. + +Will, father is dead. He died yesterday, right after I got here. He +asked for you. Do you know what that means? It means he wanted you to +come back, Will. Poor father, he didn't really mean to be obstinate, +you know. + +I shall not write any more, for I am not sure that you will ever read +it. But if you do read it, you'll come back, won't you--or write? +Please. + +Your loving sister, + +MARY BRANSFORD. + +The Double A Ranch. + +Union County, New Mexico. + + +Sanderson finished reading the letter. Then folding it, he shoved it +back into the envelope and gravely drew out the other letter. It bore +a later date and was in the same handwriting: + + +MR. WILLIAM BRANSFORD, + +Tucson, Arizona. + +DEAR BROTHER WILL: I was so delighted to get your letter. And I am so +eager to see you. It has been such a long, long time, hasn't it? +Fifteen years, isn't it? And ten years since I even got a letter from +you! + +I won't remember you, I am sure, for I am only nineteen now, and you +were only fifteen when you left home. And I suppose you have grown big +and strong, and have a deep, booming voice and a fierce-looking +mustache. Well, I shall love you, anyway. So hurry and come home. + +I am sending you a telegraph money order for one thousand dollars, for +from the tone of your letter it seems things are not going right with +you. Hurry home, won't you? + +With love, + +Your sister, + +MARY. + + +Sanderson finished reading the letter. He meditated silently, turning +it over and over in his hands. The last letter was dated a month +before. Evidently Bransford had not hurried. + +Sanderson searched all the other pockets, and discovered nothing of +further interest. Then he stood for a long time, looking down at the +man's face, studying it, his own face expressing disapproval. + +"Mebbe it's just as well that he didn't get to the Double A," he +thought, noting the coarse, brutal features of the other. + +"If a girl's got ideals it's sometimes a mighty good thing the real guy +don't come along to disabuse them. William ain't never goin' to get to +the Double A." + +He buried the body in a gully, then he returned to the other men. + +Upon their persons he found about nine hundred dollars in bills of +small denomination. It made a bulky package, and Sanderson stored it +in his slicker. Then he mounted Streak, turned the animal's head +toward the northeast, and rode into the glaring sunshine of the morning. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"SQUARE" DEAL SANDERSON + +Three days later, still traveling northeastward, Sanderson felt he must +be close to the Double A. Various signs and conclusions were +convincing. + +In the first place, he had been a week on the trail, and estimating his +pace conservatively, that time should bring him within easy riding +distance of the place he had set out to seek. There were so many miles +to be covered in so many days, and Streak was a prince of steady +travelers. + +Besides, yesterday at dusk, Sanderson had passed through Las Vegas. +Careful inquiry in the latter town had brought forth the intelligence +that the Double A was a hundred and seventy-five miles northeastward. + +"Country's short of cow-hands," said Sanderson's informer. "If you're +needin' work, an' forty a month looks good to you, why, I'd admire to +take you on. I'm German, of the Flyin' U, down the Cimarron a piece." + +"Me an' work has disagreed," grinned Sanderson; and he rode on, +meditating humorously over the lie. + +Work and Sanderson had never disagreed. Indeed, Sanderson had always +been convinced that work and he had agreed too well in the past. +Except for the few brief holidays that are the inevitable portion of +the average puncher who is human enough to yearn for the relaxation of +a trip to "town" once or twice a year, Sanderson and work had been +inseparable for half a dozen years. + +Sanderson's application had earned him the reputation of being +"reliable" and "trustworthy"--two terms that, in the lexicon of the +cow-country, were descriptive of virtues not at all common. In +Sanderson's case they were deserved--more, to them might have been +added another, "straight." + +Sanderson's trip northeastward had resulted partly from a desire to +escape the monotony of old scenes and familiar faces; and partly +because one day while in "town" he had listened attentively to a desert +nomad, or "drifter," who had told a tale of a country where water was +to be the magic which would open the gates of fortune to the eager and +serious-minded. + +"That country's goin' to blossom!" declared the Drifter. "An' the guy +which gets in on the ground floor is goin' to make a clean-up! They's +a range there--the Double A--which is right in the middle of things. A +guy named Bransford owns her--an' Bransford's on his last legs. He's +due to pass out _pronto_, or I'm a gopher! He's got a daughter +there--Mary--which is a pippin, an' no mistake! But she's sure got a +job on her hands, if the ol' man croaks. + +"They's a boy, somewheres, which ain't no good I've heard, an' if the +girl hangs on she's due for an uphill climb. She'll have a fight on +her hands too, with Alva Dale--a big rough devil of a man with a greedy +eye on the whole country--an' the girl, too, I reckon--if my eyes is +any good. I've seen him look at her--oh, man! If she was any relation +to me I'd climb Dale's frame sure as shootin'!" + +There had been more--the Drifter told a complete story. And Sanderson +had assimilated it without letting the other know he had been affected. + +Nor had he mentioned to Burroughs--his employer--a word concerning the +real reason for his desire to make a change. Not until he had written +to Bransford, and received a reply, did he acquaint Burroughs with his +decision to leave. As a matter of fact, Sanderson had delayed his +leave-taking for more than a month after receiving Bransford's letter, +being reluctant, now that his opportunity had come, to sever those +relations that, he now realized, had been decidedly pleasant. + +"I'm sure next to what's eatin' you," Burroughs told him on the day +Sanderson asked for his "time." "You're yearnin' for a change. It's a +thing that gets hold of a man's soul--if he's got one. They ain't no +fightin' it. I'm sure appreciatin' what you've done for me, an' if you +decide to come back any time, you'll find me a-welcomin' you with open +arms, as the sayin' is. You've got a bunch of coin comin'--three +thousand. I'm addin' a thousand to that--makin' her good measure. +That'll help you to start something." + +Sanderson started northeastward without any illusions. A product of +the Far Southwest, where the ability to live depended upon those +natural, protective instincts and impulses which civilization frowns +upon, Sanderson was grimly confident of his accomplishments--which were +to draw a gun as quickly as any other man had ever drawn one, to shoot +as fast and as accurately as the next man--or a little faster and more +accurately; to be alert and self-contained, to talk as little as +possible; to listen well, and to deal fairly with his fellow-men. + +That philosophy had served Sanderson well. It had made him feared and +respected throughout Arizona; it had earned him the sobriquet +"Square"--a title which he valued. + +Sanderson could not have told, however, just what motive had impelled +him to decide to go to the Double A. No doubt the Drifter's story +regarding the trouble that was soon to assail Mary Bransford had had +its effect, but he preferred to think he had merely grown tired of life +at the Pig-Pen--Burrough's ranch--and that the Drifter's story, coming +at the instant when the yearning for a change had seized upon him, had +decided him. + +He had persisted in that thought until after the finding of the letters +in William Bransford's pockets; and then, staring down at the man's +face, he had realized that he had been deluding himself, and, that he +was journeying northeastward merely because he was curious to see the +girl whom the Drifter had so vividly described. + +Away back in his mind, too, there might have been a chivalrous desire +to help her in the fight that was to come with Alva Dale. He had felt +his blood surge hotly at the prospect of a fight, with Mary Bransford +as the storm center; a passion to defend her had got into his soul; and +a hatred for Alva Dale had gripped him. + +Whatever the motive, he had come, and since he had looked down into +William Bransford's face, he had become conscious of a mighty +satisfaction. The two men who had trailed Bransford had been +cold-blooded murderers, and he had avenged Bransford completely. That +could not have happened if he had not yielded to the impulse to go to +the Double A. + +He was glad he had decided to go. He was now the bearer of ill news, +but he was convinced that the girl would want to know about her +brother--and he must tell her. And now, too, he was convinced that his +journey to the Double A had been previously arranged--by Fate, or +whatever Providence controls the destinies of humans. + +And that conviction helped him to fight down the sense of guilty +embarrassment that had afflicted him until now--the knowledge that he +was deliberately and unwarrantedly going to the Double A to interfere, +to throw himself into a fight with persons with whom he had no previous +acquaintance, for no other reason than that his chivalrous instincts +had prompted him. + +And yet his thoughts were not entirely serious as he rode. The +situation had its humorous side. + +"Mostly nothin' turns out as folks figure in the beginnin'," he told +himself. "Otherwise everything would be cut an' dried, an' there +wouldn't be a heap of fun in the world--for butters-in. An' folks +which scheme an' plot, tryin' to get things that belong to other folks, +would have it too easy. There's got to be folks that wander around, +nosin' into places that they shouldn't. Eh, Streak?" + +Streak did not answer, and Sanderson rode on, smiling gravely. + +He made a dry camp that night in a sea of mesquite at the edge of a +sand plain, although, he knew he could not now be far from the Double A +range. And in the early light of the morning he found his judgment +vindicated, for stretching before him, still in a northeasterly +direction, he saw a great, green-brown level sweeping away from his +feet and melting into some rimming mountains--a vast, natural basin of +gigantic proportions. + +Sanderson was almost at the end of his journey, it was early morning, +and he was in no hurry. He leisurely prepared his breakfast, sitting +on a flat rock as he ate, and scanning the basin. + +Mere bigness had never impressed Sanderson; the West had shown him +greater vistas than this mammoth basin. And yet his eyes glowed as he +looked out and down at the country that lay, slumbering in the pure +white light of the dawn. + +He saw, dotting the floor of the basin, the roofs of houses. From his +height they seemed to be close together, but Sanderson was not misled, +and he knew that they were separated by miles of virgin soil--of +sagebrush and yucca, and soapweed and other desert weeds that needed +not the magic of water to make them live. + +When Sanderson finally mounted Streak, the sun was up. It took Streak +two hours to descend the slope leading down into the basin, and when +once horse and rider were down, Sanderson dismounted and patted +Streak's moist flanks. + +"Some drop, eh, Streak?" he said. "But it didn't fool us none. We +knowed it was some distance, didn't we? An' they ain't foolin' us +about the rest of it, are they? The Drifter said to head toward the +Big Peak. The Double A would be right near there--in the foothills. +Looks easy, don't it? But I reckon we'll have to hump ourselves to get +there by feedin' time, this noon, eh?" + +A little later, Streak having rested, Sanderson mounted and rode +forward, toward the peak of a majestic mountain that loomed far above +them. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +IH WHICH A MAN IS SYMPATHETIC + +It was shortly after noon when Sanderson, urging Streak to the crest of +an isolated excrescence of earth surrounded by a level of sage and +cactus, saw within several hundred yards of him a collection of +buildings scattered on a broad plain that extended back several hundred +yards farther until it merged into the rock-faced wall of a butte that +loomed upward many feet. + +Sanderson halted Streak on the hilltop to glance around. The +buildings, evidently, belonged to the Double A ranch, and the country +was all the Drifter had claimed for it. + +The big stretch of plain--in fact, the entire basin--could be made +fertile by the judicious use of water. Sanderson was not an engineer, +but he had sufficient natural knowledge of land to enable him to +distinguish good land from bad. Besides, near Phoenix he had inspected +a gigantic irrigation project, and had talked long with the engineer in +charge, and he had learned many things that would not have interested +the average cowpuncher. + +There was a break in the wall of the butte south of the group of +buildings, and out of the break Sanderson could see water tumbling and +splashing from one rock ledge to another until it rushed down, forming +quite a large stream as it struck the level and swirled hurriedly +between two sloping banks near the buildings. + +From where Sanderson sat on Streak he could look far back into the +break in the butte. The break made a sort of gorge, which widened as +it receded, and Sanderson suspected the presence of another basin +beyond the butte--in fact, the Drifter had told him of the presence of +another basin. + +"She'd make some lake, if she was bottled up!" was Sanderson's mental +comment after a long examination. + +His gaze became centered upon the buildings and the level surrounding +them. + +The buildings were ordinary, but the country was rugged and picturesque. + +Some foothills--which Sanderson had seen from the far side of the basin +that morning--rose from the level toward the south, their pine-clad +slopes sweeping sharply upward--a series of gigantic land waves that +seemed to leap upward and upward toward the higher peaks of some +mountains behind them. + +Northward, fringing the edge of the plain that began at the foothills +and stretched many miles, were other mountains; eastward the butte +extended far, receding, irregular, its jagged walls forming a barrier; +southwestward stretched the basin, in a gentle slope that was more +noticeable to Sanderson now than it had been while he had been riding +during the morning. + +The land around the buildings was fertile, for here was water which +could be utilized. The land over which Sanderson had been riding all +morning, though, was not so fertile; it needed the water that the +stream splashing out of the gorge could give it, with proper human +manipulation. + +All morning Sanderson's thoughts had dwelt upon the serious lack of +water in the basin. Now his thoughts grew definitely troubled. + +"There's goin' to be hell here--if this thing ain't handled right. The +Double A has got lots of water. The other fellows will be wantin' it. +They've got to have it." + +Sanderson finished his inspection of the place. Then he spoke to +Streak, and the big brown horse descended the slope of the hill, struck +the level, and cantered slowly toward the ranch buildings near the +river. + +Sanderson urged the brown horse toward the largest building of the +group, and as he rode he straightened in the saddle, rearranged his +neckerchief and brushed some of the dust from his clothing--for at this +minute his thoughts went to the girl--whom he now knew he had come to +see. + +Sanderson no longer tried to delude himself. A strange reluctance +oppressed him, and a mighty embarrassment seized him; his face grew +crimson beneath the coat of tan upon it, and his lungs swelled with a +dread eagerness that had gripped him. + +"I reckon I'm a damn fool!" he told himself as he forced Streak onward; +"I'm comin' here, not knowin' why, but still a-comin'." He grinned, +mirthlessly, but went forward. + +Heading toward the ranchhouse, he passed a huge building--the stable. +Swinging wide around one of its corners, he was about to ride onward +toward the ranchhouse, when out of the corners of his eyes he saw some +men and horses grouped in front of the stable. + +He pulled Streak up with a jerk, swung the animal's head around and +faced the group. There were five horses, saddled and bridled, standing +in front of the stable. Sanderson's eyes noted that in one swift +glance. But it was upon a man that Sanderson's gaze centered as Streak +came to a halt. + +The man dominated. There were other men standing in front of the +stable--and two women. But the man upon whom Sanderson's gaze rested +was the compelling figure. + +He was big--rugged, muscular, massive. He saw Sanderson at about the +instant Sanderson saw him, and he faced the latter, his chin thrusting, +his lips pouting, his eyes gleaming with cold belligerence. He wore a +gray woolen shirt, open at the throat, revealing a strong, wide chest. + +He was a tawny giant, exuding a force and virility and a compelling +magnetism that gripped one instantly. It affected Sanderson; the sight +of the man caused Sanderson's eyes to glow with reluctant admiration. + +And yet Sanderson disliked the man; he know instantly that this was +Alva Dale, concerning whom the Drifter had spoken; and the glow died +out of Sanderson's eyes and was replaced by the steady gleam of +premeditated and deliberate hostility. + +For an instant there was no word spoken; the glances of the two men +met, crossed, and neither man's eyes wavered. + +Then the big man spoke, gruffly, shortly, coldly: "What do you want?" + +Sanderson smiled faintly. "You runnin' things here?" he said, slowly. + +"Hell!" snarled the other, and stepped forward. + +"Because if you are," resumed Sanderson, his voice bringing the big man +to a halt, "you're the man I'm wantin' to do my gassin' to. If you +ain't runnin' things, why, I reckon you ain't in the deal at all." + +"Well, I'm runnin' things," sneered the other. "Tell me what you're +wantin' or pull your freight out of here, _pronto_!" + +"I'm sure some disturbed over my mistake," grinned Sanderson. "You +couldn't be anybody but Bransford, or you wouldn't shoot off your gab +that reckless. If you're Bransford, I'm apologizin' to you for talkin' +back to you. But if you ain't Bransford, get off your hind legs an' +talk like a man!" + +The big man stiffened, and his eyes glittered malignantly. He moved +his feet slightly apart and let his body fall into a crouch. He held +that position, though, not moving a finger, when he saw a saturnine +smile wreathe Sanderson's lips, noted the slight motion with which +Sanderson edged Streak around a little, caught the slow, gradual +lifting of Sanderson's shoulder--the right; which presaged the drawing +of the heavy pistol that swung at Sanderson's right hip. + +Both men held their positions for some seconds; and the slow, heavy +breathing of the big man indicated his knowledge of the violence that +impended--the violence that, plainly, Sanderson would not retreat from. + +Then the big man's body began to relax, and a tinge of color came into +his face. He grinned, malevolently, with forced lightness. + +"Hell," he said; "you're damned particular! I'm runnin' things here, +but I ain't Bransford!" + +"I was reckonin' you wasn't," said Sanderson, mockingly. He now +ignored the big man, and fixed his gaze on one of the women--the one he +felt must be Mary Bransford. + +He had found time, while talking with the big man, to look twice at the +two women--and he had discovered they were not women at all, but girls. +More, he had discovered that one of them looked as he had pictured her +many times during the days since he had heard of her from the Drifter. + +She was standing slightly aside from the men--and from the other girl. +She was pale, her eyes were big and fright-laden, and since Sanderson's +comings she had been looking at him with an intense, wondering and +wistful gaze, her hands clasped over her breast, the fingers working +stiffly. + +Sanderson colored as he looked at her; he was wondering what she would +say to him if she knew that he had come to the Double A purposely to +see her, and that seeing her he was afflicted with a dismayed +embarrassment that threatened to render him speechless. + +For she more than fulfilled the promise of what he had expected of her. +She was slightly above medium height, though not tall--a lissome, +graceful girl with direct, frank eyes. + +That was all Sanderson noted. Her hair, he saw, of course--it was done +up in bulging knots and folds--and was brown, and abundant, and it made +him gulp in admiration of it; but he could not have told what her +features were like--except that they were what he expected them to be. + +"I reckon you're Mary Bransford, ma'am?" he said to her. + +The girl took a step toward him, unclasping her hands. + +"Yes," she said rapidly, "It can't be that you--that you----" + +The big man stepped between the girl and Sanderson, pushing the girl +aside and standing before Sanderson. But he spoke to the girl. + +"Look here," he said shortly; "I don't know what you two are goin' to +palaver about, but whatever it is it's goin' to wait until what we set +about to do is done." He looked at Sanderson. "Stranger, we ain't got +no objections to you doin' all the lookin' you want to do. But keep +your trap shut. Now, Miss Bransford," he continued, turning to the +girl, "we'll get this trial over with. You say them steers which me +an' my boys brought over an' put into your corral is Double A +steers--that you're sure the brand is yours--an' the earmarks?" + +"Ye-es," returned the girl slowly and hesitatingly. + +While talking with Sanderson she had unclasped her hands, and now she +clasped them again, twining the fingers with a quick, nervous motion. +Again her eyes grew wide with fright, and Sanderson saw her looking at +the other girl--he saw the other girl stiffen and stand straight, her +lips curving scornfully as she returned Miss Bransford's gaze. + +Sanderson's lips straightened. And now for the first time he gravely +inspected the faces in the group near him. + +Two men--cowboys--who stood near the big man, were evidently the "boys" +referred to by the latter. Their faces were set and expressionless. +Between them stood a rugged, well-built man of about twenty-two or +three. His hands were tied behind him, a rope was around his neck, the +free end coiled in the hands of one of the two men. + +The young man's face was sullen, but his head was held very erect, and +his eyes were steady and unwavering as he watched the big man. + +The girl at whom Miss Bransford was looking stood near the young man. +Sanderson saw her turn from Miss Bransford and look at the young man +piteously, her lips quivering suspiciously. + +There was another man in the group--an under-sized fellow, pale, +emaciated, with big, troubled, and perplexed eyes. Sanderson saw that +his hands were clenched, and that his thin lips were pressed so tightly +together that they were blue and bloodless. + +This man stood slightly apart from the others, as though he had no part +in what was going on; though Sanderson could tell from his manner that +he was laboring under an intense strain. + +Miss Bransford and the big man were the opposing forces in what was +transpiring--Sanderson knew that from Miss Bransford's manner of +answering the big man's question. Her "yes" had been uttered +reluctantly. Her testimony was damaging--she knew it, and her +sympathies were with the young man with the rope around his neck. + +Sanderson knew nothing of the motives that were actuating the people of +this little drama, but he was entirely conscious of the visible forces +that were at work. + +Plainly, the big man had accused the captive of stealing cattle; he had +brought the supposed culprit to face the owner of the stolen stock; he +had constituted himself judge and jury, and was determined to hang the +young man. + +The two men with the big man were noncommittal. The pale, undersized +man was a mere onlooker whose sympathies were with the accused. Miss +Bransford would have been quite willing to have this young man escape +punishment, but she could not deny that the cattle in question belonged +to her. + +Sanderson was in doubt about the other young woman, though obviously +she was closely related to him--a wife, or sister--perhaps a sweetheart. + +Sanderson studied the young man's face, comparing it with the big +man's, and his lips stiffened. He backed Streak slightly and swung +crosswise in the saddle, intense interest seizing him. + +The big man grinned, first at Miss Bransford, and then at the other +girl. + +"I reckon that settles it," he said. "There don't seem to be nothin' +more to it. Miss Bransford says the cattle is hers, an' we found them +in Ben Nyland's corral. There ain't-----" + +"Alva Dale, you are a sneak and a liar!" + +This was the girl. She had stepped forward until she was within a +short pace from the big man. She stood erect, rigid, her hands +clenched at her sides; her chin lifted, her eyes flashing with defiant +passion. + +Dale smirked at her. + +"Peggy Nyland," he said, "you're handin' it to me pretty strong, ain't +you? You'd fight for your brother's life, of course. But I represent +the law here, an' I've got to do my duty. You won't deny that we found +them steers in your brother's corral?" + +"No, I can't deny that!" declared the girl passionately. "You found +them there. They were there. But Ben did not put them there. Shall I +tell you who did? It was you! I heard a noise in the corral during +the night--last night! But I--thought it was just our own cattle. And +I did not go out to see. + +"Oh, how I wish I had! But Ben didn't put the Double A cattle in the +corral, for Ben was in the house all the time. He went to bed when I +did, and I saw him, sleeping in his bunk, when the noise awakened me!" + +The girl stepped closer to Dale, her voice vibrating with scorn and +loathing. + +"If you didn't put the steers in our corral, you know who did, Alva +Dale," she went on. "And you know why they were put there! You didn't +do it because you wanted Ben's land--as I've heard you have said; you +did it to get Ben out of the way so that you could punish me! + +"If I had told Ben how you have hounded me--how you have insulted me, +Ben would have killed you long ago. Oh, I ought to have told him, but +I was afraid--afraid to bring more trouble to Ben!" + +Dale laughed sneeringly as he watched the young man writhe futilely in +the hands of his captors. + +"Sounds reasonable--an' dramatic," he said. "It'd do some good, mebbe, +if they was any soft-headed ninnies around that would believe it. But +the law ain't soft-headed. We found them steers in Ben Nyland's +corral--some of them marked with Ben's brand--the Star--blottin' out +the Double A. An' Miss Bransford admits the steers are hers. They +ain't nothin' more to be said." + +"Yes, there is, Dale," said Miss Bransford. "It is quite evident there +has been a mistake made. I am willing to believe Peggy Nyland when she +says Ben was asleep in the cabin all night--with her. At any rate, I +don't want any hanging over a few cattle. I want you to let Ben Nyland +go." + +Dale wheeled and faced Miss Bransford. His face reddened angrily, but +he managed to smile. + +"It's too late, Miss Bransford. The evidence is all in. There's got +to be rules to govern such cases as this. Because you own the steers +is no sign you've got a right to defeat the aims of justice. I'd like +mighty well to accommodate you, but I've got my duty to consider, an' I +can't let him off. Ben Nyland has got to hang, an' that's all there is +to it!" + +There came a passionate outcry from Peggy Nyland; and then she had her +arms around her brother's neck, sobbing that she would never let him be +hanged. + +Miss Bransford's eyes were blazing with rage and scorn as they +challenged Dale's. She walked close to him and said something in a low +tone to him, at which he answered, though less gruffly than before, +that it was "no use." + +Miss Bransford looked around appealingly; first at the pale, anemic +little man with big eyes, who shifted his feet and looked +uncomfortable; then her gaze went to Sanderson who, resting his left +elbow on the pommel of the saddle, was watching her with squinting, +quizzical eyes. + +There was an appeal in Miss Bransford's glance that made the blood leap +to Sanderson's face. Her eyes were shining with an eloquent yearning +that would have caused him to kill Dale--if he had thought killing the +man would have been the means of saving Ben Nyland. + +And then Mary Bransford was at his side, her hands grasping his, +holding them tightly as her gaze sought his and held it. + +"Won't you please do something?" she pleaded. "Oh, if it only could +be! That's a mystery to you, perhaps, but when I spoke to you before I +was going to ask you if--if-- But then, of course you couldn't be--or +you would have spoken before." + +Sanderson's eyes glowed with a cold fire. He worked his hands free, +patted hers reassuringly, and gently pushed her away from Streak. + +He swung down from the saddle and walked to Dale. The big man had his +back turned to Sanderson, and when Sanderson reached him he leaned over +his shoulder and said gently: + +"Look here, Dale." + +The latter wheeled, recognizing Sanderson's voice and snarling into the +latter's face. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +Sanderson grinned mildly. "I reckon you've got to let Ben Nyland off, +Dale--he ain't guilty. Mebbe I ought to have stuck in my gab before, +but I was figurin' that mebbe you wouldn't go to crowdin' him so close. +Ben didn't steal no steers; he run them into his corral by my orders." + +Dale guffawed loudly and stepped back to sneer at Sanderson. But he +had noted the steadiness of the latter's eyes and the sneer faded. + +"Bah!" he said. "Your orders! An' who in hell are you?" + +"I'm Bill Bransford," said Sanderson quietly, and he grinned +mirthlessly at Dale over the two or three feet of space that separated +them. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +WATER AND KISSES + +For several seconds Dale did not speak. A crimson stain appeared above +the collar of his shirt and spread until it covered his face and neck, +leaving his cheeks poisonously bloated and his eyes glaring. + +But the steady eyes and the cold, deliberate demeanor of Sanderson did +much to help Dale regain his self-control--which he did, while Mary +Bransford, running forward, tried to throw her arms around Sanderson's +neck. She was prevented from accomplishing this design by Sanderson +who, while facing Dale, shoved the girl away from him, almost roughly. + +"There's time for that after we've settled with Dale," he told the girl +gruffly. + +Dale had recovered; he sneered. "It's easy enough to make a claim like +that, but it's another thing to prove it. How in hell do we know +you're Bill Bransford?" + +Sanderson's smile was maddening. "I ain't aimin' to prove nothin'--to +you!" he said. But he reached into a pocket, drew out the two letters +he had taken from the real Bransford's pocket, and passed them back to +Mary Bransford, still facing Dale. + +He grinned at Dale's face as the latter watched Mary while she read the +letters, gathering from the scowl that swept over the other's lips that +Mary had accepted them as proof of his identity. + +"You'll find the most of that thousand you sent me in my slicker," he +told the girl. And while Mary ran to Streak, unstrapped the slicker, +tore it open, and secured the money, Sanderson watched Dale's face, +grinning mockingly. + +"O Will--Will!" cried the girl joyously behind Sanderson. + +Sanderson's smile grew. "Seems to prove a heap, don't it?" he said to +Dale. "I know a little about law myself. I won't be pressin' no +charge against Nyland. Take your rope off him an' turn him free. An' +then mebbe you'll be accommodatin' enough to hit the breeze while the +hittin's good--for me an' Miss--my sister's sort of figurin' on a +reunion--bein' disunited for so long." + +He looked at Dale with cold, unwavering eyes until the latter, +sneering, turned and ordered his men to remove the rope from Nyland. +With his hands resting idly on his hips he watched Dale and the men +ride away. Then he shook hands mechanically with Nyland, permitted +Peggy to kiss him--which she did fervently, and led her brother away. +Then Sanderson turned, to see Mary smiling and blushing, not more than +two or three feet distant. + +He stood still, and she stepped slowly toward him, the blush on her +face deepening. + +"Oh," she said as she came dose to him and placed her hands on his +shoulders, "this seems positively brazen--for you seem like a stranger +to me." + +Then she deliberately took both his cheeks in her hands, stood on the +tips of her toes and kissed him three or four times, squarely on the +lips. + +"Why, ma'am--" began Sanderson. + +"Mary!" she corrected, shaking him. + +"Well, ma'am--Mary, that is--you see I ain't just----" + +"You're the dearest and best brother that ever lived," she declared, +placing a hand over his mouth, "even though you did stay away for so +many years. Not another word now!" she warned as she took him by an +arm and led him toward the ranchhouse; "not a word about anything until +you've eaten and rested. Why, you look tired to death--almost!" + +Sanderson wanted to talk; he wanted to tell Mary Bransford that he was +not her brother; that he had assumed the role merely for the purpose of +defeating Dale's aim. His sole purpose had been to help Mary Bransford +out of a difficult situation; he had acted on impulse--an impulse +resulting from the pleading look she had given him, together with the +knowledge that she had wanted to save Nyland. + +Now that the incident was closed, and Nyland saved, he wanted to make +his confession, be forgiven, and received into Mary's good graces. + +He followed the girl into the house, but as he halted for an instant on +the threshold, just before entering, he looked hack, to see the little, +anemic man standing near the house, looking at him with an odd smile. +Sanderson flushed and made a grimace at the little man, whereat the +latter's smile grew broad and eloquent. + +"What's eatin' him, I wonder?" was Sanderson's mental comment. "He +looked mighty fussed up while Dale was doin' the talkin'. Likely he's +just tickled--like the rest of them." + +Mary led Sanderson into the sitting-room to a big easy-chair, shoved +him into it, and stood behind him, running her fingers through his +hair. Meanwhile she talked rapidly, telling him of the elder +Bransford's last moments, of incidents that had occurred during his +absence from the ranch; of other incidents that had to do with her life +at a school on the coast; of many things of which he was in complete +ignorance. + +Desperate over his inability to interrupt her flow of talk, conscious +of the falseness of his position, squirming under her caresses, and +cursing himself heartily for yielding to the absurd impulse that had +placed him in so ridiculous a predicament, Sanderson opened his month a +dozen times to make his confession, but each time closed it again, +unsuccessful. + +At last, nerved to the ordeal by the knowledge that each succeeding +moment was making his position more difficult, and his ultimate pardon +less certain, he wrenched himself free and stood up, his face crimson. + +"Look here, ma'am----" + +"Mary!" she corrected, shaking a finger at him. + +"Mary," he repeated tonelessly, "now look here," he went on hoarsely. +"I want to tell you that I ain't the man you take me to be. I'm----" + +"Yes, you are," she insisted, smiling and placing her hands on his +shoulders. "You are a real man. I'll wager Dale thinks so; and Peggy +Nyland, and Ben. Now, wait!" she added as he tried to speak. "I want +to tell you something. Do you know what would have happened if you had +not got here today? + +"I'll tell you," she went on again, giving him no opportunity to inject +a word. "Dale would have taken the Double A away from me! He told me +so! He was over here yesterday, gloating over me. Do you know what he +claims? That I am not a Bransford; that I am merely an adopted +daughter--not even a legally adopted one; that father just took me, +when I was a year old, without going through any legal formalities. + +"Dale claims to have proof of that. He won't tell me where he got it. +He has some sort of trumped-up evidence, I suppose, or he would not +have talked so confidently. And he is all-powerful in the basin. He +is friendly with all the big politicians in the territory, and is +ruthless and merciless. I feel that he would have succeeded, if you +had not come. + +"I know what he wants; he wants the Double A on account of the water. +He is prepared to go any length to get it--to commit murder, if +necessary. He could take it away from me, for I wouldn't know how to +fight him. But he can't take it away from you, Will. And he can't say +you have no claim to the Double A, for father willed it to you, and the +will has been recorded in the Probate Court in Las Vegas! + +"O Will; I am _so_ glad you came," she went on, stroking and patting +his arms. "When I spoke to you the first time, out there by the +stable, I was certain of you, though I dreaded to have you speak for +fear you would say otherwise. And if it hadn't been you, I believe I +should have died." + +"An' if you'd find out, now, that I ain't Will Bransford," said +Sanderson slowly, "what then?" + +"That can't be," she said, looking him straight in the eyes, and +holding his gaze for a long time, while she searched his face for signs +of that playful deceit that she expected to see reflected there. + +She saw it, evidently, or what was certainly an excellent counterfeit +of it--though Sanderson was in no jocular mood, for at that moment he +felt himself being drawn further and further into the meshes of the +trap he had laid for himself--and she smiled trustfully at him, drawing +a deep sigh of satisfaction and laying her head against his shoulder. + +"That can't be," she repeated. "No man could deceive a woman like +that!" + +Sanderson groaned, mentally. He couldn't confess now and at the same +time entertain any hope that she would forgive him. + +Nor could he--knowing what he knew now of Dale's plans--brutally tell +her the truth and leave her to fight Dale single-handed, + +And there was still another consideration to deter him from making a +confession. By impersonating her brother he had raised her hopes high. +How could he tell her that her brother had been killed, that he had +buried him in a desolate section of a far-off desert after taking his +papers and his money? + +He felt, from her manner when he had tentatively asked her to consider +the possibility of his not being her brother, that the truth would kill +her, as she had said. + +Worse, were he now to inform her of what had happened in the desert, +she might not believe him; she might indeed--considering that he +already had dealt doubly with her--accuse him of being her brother's +murderer! + +Again Sanderson groaned in spirit. To confess to her would be to +destroy her; to withhold the confession and to continue to impersonate +her brother was to act the role of a cad. + +Sanderson hesitated between a choice of the two evils, and was lost. +For she gave him no time for serious and continued thought. Taking him +by an arm she led him into a room off the sitting-room, shoving him +through the door laughingly. + +"That is to be your room," she said. "I fixed it up for you more than +a month ago. You go in there and get some sleep. Sleep until dusk. +By that time I'll have supper ready. And then, after supper, there are +so many things that I want to say to you. So get a good sleep!" + +She closed the door and went out, and Sanderson sank into a chair. +Later, he locked the door, pulled the chair over near a window--from +which he got a good view of the frowning butte at the edge of the +level--and stared out, filled with a sensation of complete disgust. + +"Hell," he said, after a time, "I'm sure a triple-plated boxhead, an' +no mistake!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +SANDERSON LIES + +Sanderson did not sleep. He sat at the window all afternoon, dismally +trying to devise way of escape from the dilemma. He did not succeed. +He had gone too far now to make a confession sound reasonably +convincing; and he could not desert the girl to Dale. That was not to +be thought of. And he was certain that if he admitted the deception, +the girl would banish him as though he were a pestilence. + +He was hopelessly entangled. And yet, continuing to ponder the +situation, he saw that he need not completely yield to pessimism. For +though circumstances--and his own lack of foresight--had placed him in +a contemptible position--he need not act the blackguard. On the +contrary, he could admirably assume the role of protector. + +The position would not be without its difficulties, and the deception +meant that he could never be to Mary Bransford what he wanted to be to +her; but he could at least save the Double A for her. That done, and +his confession made, he could go on his way, satisfied that he had at +least beaten Dale. + +His decision made, Sanderson got up, opened the door a trifle, and +looked into the sitting-room. It was almost dusk, and, judging from +the sounds that reached his ears from the direction of the kitchen, +Mary intended to keep her promise regarding "supper." + +Feeling guilty, though grimly determined to continue the deception to +the end--whatever the end might be--Sanderson stole through the +sitting-room, out through the door leading to the porch, and made his +way to a shed lean-to back of the kitchen. + +There he found a tin washbasin, some water, and a towel, and for ten +minutes he worked with them. Then he discovered a comb, and a broken +bit of mirror fixed to the wall of the lean-to, before which he combed +his hair and studied his reflection. He noted the unusual flush on his +cheeks, but grinned brazenly into the glass. + +"I'm sure some flustered," he told his reflection. + +Arrayed for a second inspection by Mary Bransford, Sanderson stood for +a long time at the door of the lean-to, trying to screw up his courage +to the point of confronting the girl. + +He succeeded finally, and walked slowly to the outside kitchen door, +where he stood, looking in at Mary. + +The girl was working over the stove, from which, floating to the +doorway where Sanderson stood, came various delicious odors. + +Mary was arrayed in a neat-fitting house dress of some soft print +material, with a huge apron over it. Her sleeves were rolled slightly +above the elbows; her face was flushed, and when she turned and saw +Sanderson her eyes grew very bright. + +"Oh," she said; "you are up! I was just thinking of calling you!" She +ran to him, threw her arms around him, and, in spite of his efforts to +evade her, she kissed him first on one cheek and then on the other. + +Noting his reluctance she stepped back and looked reprovingly at him. + +"You seem so distant, Will. And I am so glad to see you!" + +"I ain't used to bein' kissed, I expect." + +"But--by your sister!" + +He reddened. "I ain't seen you for a long time, you know. Give me +time, an' mebbe I'll get used to it." + +"I hope so," she smiled. "I should feel lost if I could not kiss my +brother. You have washed, too!" she added, noting his glowing face and +his freshly combed hair. + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Mary!" she corrected. + +"Mary," grinned Sanderson. + +Mary turned to the stove. "You go out and find a chair on the porch," +she directed, over her shoulder. "I'll have supper ready in a jiffy. +It's too hot for you in here." + +Sanderson obeyed. From the deeply crimson hue of his face it was +apparent that the heat of the kitchen had affected him. That, at +least, must have been the reason Mary had ordered him away. His face +_felt_ hot. + +He found a chair on the porch, and he sank into it, feeling like a +criminal. There was a certain humor in the situation. Sanderson felt +it, but could not appreciate it, and he sat, hunched forward, staring +glumly into the dusk that had settled over the basin. + +He had been sitting on the porch for some minutes when he became aware +of a figure near him, and he turned slowly to see the little, anemic +man standing not far away. + +"Cooling off?" suggested the little man. + +Sanderson straightened. "How in hell do you know I'm hot?" he demanded +gruffly. + +The little man grinned. "There's signs. Your face looks like you'd +had it in an oven. Now, don't lose your temper; I didn't mean to +offend you." + +The little man's voice was placative; his manner gravely ingratiating. +Yet Sanderson divined that the other was inwardly laughing at him. +Why? Sanderson did not know. He was aware that he must seem awkward +in the role of brother, and he suspected that the little man had +noticed it; possibly the little man was one of those keen-witted and +humorously inclined persons who find amusement in the incongruous. + +There was certainly humor in the man's face, in the glint of his eyes, +and in the curve of his lips. His face was seamed and wrinkled; his +ears were big and prominent, the tips bending outward under the brim of +a felt hat that was too large for him; his mouth was large, and +Sanderson's impression of it was that it could not be closed far enough +to conceal all the teeth, but that the lips were continually trying to +stretch far enough to accomplish the feat. + +Sanderson was certain it was that continual effort of the muscles of +the lips that gave to his mouth its humorous expression. + +The man was not over five feet and two or three inches tall, and +crowning his slender body was a head that was entirely out of +proportion to the rest of him. He was not repulsive-looking, however, +and a glance at his eyes convinced Sanderson that anything Providence +had taken from his body had been added, by way of compensation, to his +intellect. + +Sanderson found it hard to resent the man's seeming impertinence. He +grinned reluctantly at him. + +"Did I tell you you'd hurt my feelin's?" he inquired. "What oven do +you think I had my head in?" + +"I didn't say," grinned the little man. "There's places that are +hotter than an oven. And if a man has never been a wolf with women, it +might be expected that he'd feel sort of warm to be kissed and fussed +over by a sister he's not seen for a good many years. He'd seem like a +stranger to her--almost." + +Sanderson's eyes glowed with a new interest in the little man. + +"How did you know I wasn't a wolf with women?" + +"Shucks," said the other; "you're bashful, and you don't run to vanity. +Any fool could see that." + +"I ain't been introduced to you--regular," said Sanderson, "but you +seem to be a heap long on common sense, an' I'd be glad to know you. +What did you say your name was?" + +"Barney Owen." + +"What you doin' at the Double A? You ought be herd-ridin' scholars in +a district schoolhouse." + +"Missed my calling," grinned the other. "I got to know too much to +teach school, but didn't know enough to let John Barleycorn alone. I'm +a drifter, sort of. Been roaming around the north country. Struck the +basin about three weeks ago. Miss Bransford was needing men--her +father--yours, too, of course--having passed out rather sudden. I was +wanting work mighty had, and Miss Bransford took me on because I was +big enough to do the work of half a dozen men." + +His face grew grave. Sanderson understood. Miss Bransford had hired +Owen out of pity. Sanderson did not answer. + +The little man's face worked strangely, and his eyes glowed. + +"If you hadn't come when you did, I would have earned my keep, and Alva +Dale would be where he wouldn't bother Miss Bransford any more," he +said. + +Sanderson straightened. "You'd have shot him, you mean?" + +Owen did not speak, merely nodding his head. + +Sanderson smiled. "Then I'm sort of sorry come when I did. But do you +think shootin' Dale would have ended it?" + +"No; Dale has friends." Owen leaned toward Sanderson, his face working +with passion. "I hate Dale," he said hoarsely. "I hate him worse than +I hate any snake that I ever saw. I hadn't been here two days when he +sneered at me and called me a freak. I'll kill him--some day. Your +coming has merely delayed the time. But before he dies I want to see +him beaten at this game he's tryin' to work on Miss Bransford. And +I'll kill any man that tries to give Miss Bransford the worst of it. + +"You've got a fight on your hands. I know Dale and his gang, and +they'll make things mighty interesting for you and Miss Bransford. But +I'll help you, if you say the word. I'm not much for looks--as you can +see--but I can sling a gun with any man I've ever met. + +"I'd have tried to fight Dale alone--for Miss Bransford's sake--but I +realize that things are against me. I haven't the size, and I haven't +the nerve to take the initiative. Besides, I drink. I get riotously +drunk. I can't help it. I can't depend on myself. But I can help +you, and I will." + +The man's earnestness was genuine, and though Sanderson had little +confidence in the other's ability to take a large part in what was to +come, he respected the spirit that had prompted the offer. So he +reached out and took the man's hand. + +"Any man that feels as strongly as you do can do a heap--at anything," +he said. "We'll call it a deal. But you're under my orders." + +"Yes," returned Owen, gripping the hand held out to him. + +"Will!" came Mary's voice from the kitchen, "supper is ready!" + +Owen laughed lowly, dropped Sanderson's hand, and slipped away into the +growing darkness. + +Sanderson got up and faced the kitchen door, hesitating, reluctant +again to face the girl and to continue the deception. Necessity drove +him to the door, however, and when he reached it, he saw Mary standing +near the center of the kitchen, waiting for him. + +"I don't believe you are hungry at all!" she declared, looking keenly +at him. "And do you know, I think you blush more easily than any man I +ever saw. But don't let that bother you," she added, laughing; +"blushes become you. Will," she went on, tenderly pressing his arm as +she led him through a door into the dining-room, "you are awfully +good-looking!" + +"You'll have me gettin' a swelled head if you go to talkin' like that," +he said, without looking at her. + +"Oh, no; you couldn't be vain if you tried. None of the Bransfords +were ever vain--or conceited. But they all have had good appetites," +she told him, shaking a finger at him. "And if you don't eat heartily +I shall believe your long absence from home has taken some of the +Bransford out of you!" + +She pulled a chair out for aim, and took another at the table opposite +him. + +Sanderson ate; there was no way out of it, though he felt awkward and +uncomfortable. He kept wondering what she would say to him if she knew +the truth. It seemed to him that had the girl looked closely at him +she might have seen the guilt in his eyes. + +But apparently she was not thinking of doubting him--it was that +knowledge which made Sanderson realize how contemptible was the part he +was playing. She had accepted him on trust, without question, with the +implicit and matter-of-fact faith of a child. + +He listened in silence while she told him many things about the +Bransfords--incidents that had occurred during his supposed absence, +intimate little happenings that he had no right to hear. And he sat, +silently eating, unable to interrupt, feeling more guilty and +despicable all the time. + +But he broke in after a time, gruffly: + +"What's the trouble between Dale and the Nylands?" + +Instantly she stiffened. "I forgot to tell you about that. Ben Nyland +is a nester. He has a quarter-section of land on the northwestern edge +of the basin. But he hasn't proved on it. The land adjoins Dale's. +Dale wants it--he has always wanted it. And he means to have it. He +also wants Peggy Nyland. + +"Dale is a beast! You heard Peggy tell how he has hounded her. It is +true; she has told me about it more than once. Dale hasn't told, of +course; but it is my opinion that Dale put the Double A cattle into +Ben's corral so that he could hang Ben. With Ben out of the way he +could take the Nyland property--and Peggy, too." + +"Why did he use Double A cattle?" + +Mary paled. "Don't you see the hideous humor of that? He knows Peggy +Nyland and I are friends. Dale is ruthless and subtle. Can't you +understand how a man of that type would enjoy seeing me send my +friend's brother to his death--and the brother innocent?" + +"Why didn't you tell Dale the cattle did not belong to you?" + +Mary smiled faintly. "I couldn't. To do so would have involved Ben +Nyland in more trouble. Dale would have got one of his friends to +claim them. And then I could have done nothing--having disclaimed the +ownership of the stock. And I--I couldn't lie. And, besides, I kept +hoping that something would happen. I had a premonition that something +_would_ happen. And something did happen--you came!" + +"Yes," said Sanderson inanely, "I came." + +He drew a large red handkerchief from a pocket and mopped some huge +beads of sweat from his face and forehead. When the handkerchief came +out a sheet of paper, folded and crumpled, fluttered toward the floor, +describing an eccentric circle and landing within a foot of Mary's feet. + +The girl saw that Sanderson had not noticed the loss of the paper, and +she stooped and recovered it. She held it in a hand while Sanderson +continued to wipe the perspiration from his face, and noting that he +was busily engaged she smoothed the paper on the table in front of her +and peered mischievously at it. And then, her curiosity conquering +her, she read, for the writing on the paper was strangely familiar. + +Sanderson having restored the handkerchief to its pocket, noticed +Mary's start, and saw her look at him, her eyes wide and perplexed. + +"Why, Will, where did you get this?" she inquired, sitting very erect. + +"Mebbe if you'd tell me what it is I could help you out," he grinned. + +"Why, it's a letter father wrote to a man in Tombstone, Arizona. See +here! Father's name is signed to it! I saw father write it. Why, I +rode over to Dry Bottom and mailed it! This man had written to father +a long time before, asking for a job. I have his letter somewhere. It +was the oddest letter! It was positively a gem of formality. I can +remember every word of it, for I must have read it a dozen times. It +ran: + + +"DEAR SIR: + +"The undersigned has been at the location noted below for a term of +years and desires to make a change. If you have an opening for a good +all-around man, the undersigned would be willing to work for you. If +you would want a recommendation, you can address Amos Burroughs, of the +Pig-Pen Ranch, near Tombstone, where the undersigned is employed. + +"Yours truly, + +"DEAL SANDERSON." + + +Mary leaned forward in her chair and looked at Sanderson with eager, +questioning eyes. Sanderson stared vacantly back at her. + +She held the letter up to him. "This is father's answer, telling the +man to come on. How on earth did you get hold of it?" + +Sanderson had slumped down in his chair. He saw discovery and disgrace +in prospect. In the total stoppage of his thoughts no way of escape or +evasion suggested itself. At the outset he was to be exposed as a +miserable impostor. + +He groaned, grinned vacuously at Mary, and again produced the +handkerchief, wiping away drops of perspiration that were twice as big +as those he had previously mopped off. + +Mary continued to stare at him, repeating the question: "How did you +get it?" + +Sanderson's composure began to return; his grin grew wider and more +intelligent, and at the sixth repetition of Mary's question he +answered, boldly: + +"I wasn't goin' to tell you about that. You see, ma'am----" + +"Mary!" + +"You see, Mary, I was goin' to fool Brans--dad. I wrote, askin' him +for the job, an' I was intendin' to come on, to surprise him. But +before I told him who I was, I was goin' to feel him out, an' find out +what he thought of me. Then I got your letter, tellin' me he was dead, +an' so there wasn't any more use of tryin' to fool him." + +"But that name, 'Sanderson?' That isn't your name, Will!" + +"It was," he grinned. "When I left home I didn't want anybody to be +runnin' into me an' recognizin' me, so I changed it to Sanderson. Deal +Sanderson." + +The girl's expression changed to delight; she sat erect and clapped her +hands. + +"Oh," she said, "I wish father was here to listen to this! He thought +all along that you were going to turn out bad. If he only knew! Will, +you don't mean to tell me that you are the Sanderson that we all know +of here--that nearly everybody in the country has heard about; the man +who is called 'Square Deal' Sanderson by all his friends--and even by +his enemies--because of his determination to do right--and to make +everyone else do right too!" + +Again Sanderson resorted to the handkerchief. + +"I don't reckon they've talked about me that strong," he said. + +"But they have! Oh, I'm so happy, Will. Why, when Dale hears about it +he'll be positively venomous--and scared. I don't think he will bother +the Double A again--after he hears of it!" + +But Sanderson merely smirked mirthlessly; he saw no reason for being +joyful over the lie he had told. He was getting deeper and deeper into +the mire of deceit and prevarication, and there seemed to be no escape. + +And now, when he had committed himself, he realized that he might have +evaded it all, this last lie at least, by telling Mary that he had +picked the note up on the desert, or anywhere, for that matter, and she +would have been forced to believe him. + +He kept her away from him, fending off her caresses with a pretense of +slight indisposition until suddenly panic-stricken over insistence, he +told her he was going to bed, bolted into the room, locked the door +behind him, and sat long in the darkness and the heat, filling the room +with a profane appreciation of himself as a double-dyed fool who could +not even lie intelligently. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +KISSES--A MAN REFUSES THEM + +There was a kerosene lamp in Sanderson's room, and when, after an hour +of gloomy silence in the dark, he got up and lit the lamp, he felt +decidedly better. He was undressing, preparing to get into bed, when +he was assailed with a thought that brought the perspiration out on him +again. + +This time it was a cold sweat, and it came with the realization that +discovery was again imminent, for if, as Mary had said, she had kept +Sanderson's letter to her father, there were in existence two +letters--his own and Will Bransford's--inevitably in different +handwriting, both of which he had claimed to have written. + +Sanderson groaned. The more he lied the deeper he became entangled. +He pulled on his trousers, and stood shoeless, gazing desperately +around the room. + +He simply must destroy that letter, or Mary, comparing it with the +letter her brother had written would discover the deception. + +It was the first time in Sanderson's life that had ever attempted to +deceive anybody, and he was in the grip of a cringing dread. + +For the first time since he occupied the room he inspected it, noting +its furnishings. His heart thumped wildly with hope while he looked. + +It was a woman's room--Mary's, of course. For there were decorations +here and there--a delicate piece of crochet work on a dresser; a sewing +basket on a stand; a pincushion, a pair of shears; some gaily +ornamented pictures on the walls, and--peering behind the dresser--he +saw a pair of lady's riding-boots. + +He strode to a closet door and threw it open, revealing, hanging +innocently on their hooks, a miscellaneous array of skirts, blouses, +and dresses. + +Mary had surrendered her room to him. Feeling guilty again, and rather +conscience-stricken, as though he were committing some sacrilegious +action, he went to the dresser and began to search among the effects in +the drawers. + +They were filled with articles of wearing apparel, delicately fringed +things that delight the feminine heart, and keepsakes of all +descriptions. Sanderson handled them carefully, but his search was not +the less thorough on that account. + +And at last, in one of the upper drawers of the dresser, he came upon a +packet of letters. + +Again his conscience pricked him, but the stern urge of necessity drove +him on until he discovered an envelope addressed to the elder +Bransford, in his own handwriting, and close to it a letter from Will +Bransford to Mary Bransford. + +Sanderson looked long at the Bransford letter, considering the +situation. He was tempted to destroy that, too, but he reflected, +permitting a sentimental thought to deter him. + +For Mary undoubtedly treasured that letter, and when the day came that +he should tell her the truth, the letter would be the only link that +would connect her with the memory of her brother. + +Sanderson could not destroy it. He had already offended Mary Bransford +more than he had a right to, and to destroy her brother's letter would +be positively heinous. + +Besides, unknown to him, there might be more letters about with Will +Bransford's signature on them, and it might be well to preserve this +particular letter in case he should be called upon to forge Will +Bransford's signature. + +So he retied the letters in the packet and restored the packet to its +place, retaining his own letter to Bransford. Smiling grimly now, he +again sought the chair near the window, lit a match, applied the blaze +to the letter, and watched the paper burn until nothing remained of it +but a crinkly ash. Then he smoked a cigarette and got into bed, +feeling more secure. + +Determined not to submit to any more of Mary's caresses, and feeling +infinitely small and mean over the realization that he had already +permitted her to carry her affection too far, he frowned at her when he +went into the kitchen after washing the next morning, gruffly replying +when she wished him a cheery, "Good morning," and grasping her arms +when she attempted to kiss him. + +He blushed, though, when her eyes reproached him. + +"I ain't used to bein' mushed over," he told her. "We'll get along a +heap better if you cut out the kissin'." + +"Why, Will!" she said, her lips trembling. + +She set them though, instantly, and went about her duties, leaving +Sanderson to stand in the center of the room feeling like a brute. + +They breakfasted in silence--almost. Sanderson saw her watching +him--covert glances that held not a little wonder and disappointment. +And then, when the meal was nearly finished, she looked at him with a +taunting half-smile. + +"Didn't you sleep good, Will?" + +Sanderson looked fairly at her. That "Will" was already an irritation +to him, for it continually reminded him of the despicable part he was +playing. He knew what he was going to say would hurt her, but he was +determined to erect between them a barrier that would prevent a +repetition of any demonstrations of affection of the brother and sister +variety. + +He didn't want to let her continue to show affection for him when he +knew that, if she knew who he really was, she would feel more tike +murdering him. + +"Look here, Mary," he said, coldly, "I've never cared a heap for the +name Bransford. That's why I changed my name to Sanderson. I never +liked to be called 'Will.' Hereafter I want you to call me +Sanderson--Deal Sanderson. Then mebbe I'll feel more like myself." + +She did not answer, but her lips straightened and she sat very rigid. +It was plain to him that she was very much disappointed in him, and +that in her mind was the contrast between her brother of today and her +brother of yesterday. + +She got up after a time, holding her head high, and left the room, +saying as she went out: + +"Very well; your wishes shall be respected. But it seems to me that +the name Bransford is one be proud of!" + +Sanderson grinned into his plate. He felt more decent now than he had +felt since arriving at the Double A. If he could continue to prevent +her from showing any affection for him--visible, at least--he would +feel that the deception he was practising was less criminal. And when +he went away, after settling the differences between Mary Bransford and +Dale, he would have less to reproach himself with. + +He did not see Mary again that morning. Leaving the dining-room, he +went outside, finding Barney Owen in the bunkhouse in the company of +several other Double A men. + +Owen introduced him to the other men--who had ridden in to the +ranchhouse the previous night, and were getting ready to follow the +outfit wagon down the river into the basin to where the Double A herd +was grazing. + +Sanderson watched the men ride away, then he turned to Owen. + +"I'm ridin' to Las Vegas, to get a look at the will, an' see what the +records have got to say about the title to the Double A. Want to go?" + +"Sure," the little man grinned. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE PLOTTERS + +Riding down the gentle slope of the basin, Alva Dale maintained a +sullen silence. He rode far in advance of the two men who accompanied +him, not listening to their voices, which occasionally reached him, not +seeming to be aware of their presence. + +Defeat had always brought bitterness to Dale; his eyes were glowing +with a futile rage as he led his men homeward. + +Dale's scheme to dispose of Ben Nyland had been carefully planned and +deftly carried out. He had meant to hang Nyland, take possession of +his property, and force Peggy to accept whatever conditions he cared to +impose upon her. + +The unlooked-for appearance of Mary Bransford's brother had disturbed +his plans. As a matter of fact, the coming of Bill Bransford would +make it necessary for Dale to make entirely new plans. + +Dale was puzzled. During the elder Bransford's last days, and for a +year or more preceding the day of Bransford's death, Dale had professed +friendship for him. The pretense of friendship had resulted profitably +for Dale, for it had enabled him to establish an intimacy with +Bransford which had made it possible for Dale to learn much of +Bransford's personal affairs. + +For instance, Dale had discovered that there was in Las Vegas no record +of Mary Bransford's birth, and though Bransford had assured him that +Mary was his child, the knowledge had served to provide Dale with a +weapon which he might have used to advantage--had not Bill Bransford +returned in time to defeat him. + +Dale had heard the story of the trouble between Bransford and his son, +Will; it was the old tale of father and son not agreeing, and of the +son leaving home, aggrieved. + +Dale had made it his business to inquire often about the son, and when +one day Bransford told him he had received a letter from his boy, Dale +betrayed such interest that the elder Bransford had permitted him to +read the letter. + +That had been about a year before Mary had written the letter that +Sanderson had found in one of Will Bransford's pockets. The letter +told of the writer's longing to return home. The elder Bransford +declared that his heart had not softened toward the boy and that he +would not answer him. Leaving Dale, Bransford had dropped the letter, +and Dale had picked it up. + +Dale still had the letter, and because of his pretended friendship for +the father he had been able to insinuate himself into Mary's good +graces. He had advised Mary to write to her brother, and he had seen +the letter from the younger Bransford in which the latter had told his +sister that he would return. + +After reading Will Bransford's letter, and learning from Mary that she +was sending a thousand dollars to her brother, Dale wrote to a friend +in Tucson. Dale's letter accompanied Mary's to the latter town, and +the evil-visaged fellow who received it grinned widely in explaining +the circumstance to two of his friends. + +"We'll git him, sure as shootin'," he said. "A thousand dollars ain't +a hell of a lot--but I've put men out of business for less!" + +Dale knew the man to whom he had written, and he had received a reply, +telling him that the job would be done. And that was why, when +Sanderson had calmly announced that he was Will Bransford, Dale had +been unwilling to believe his statement. + +Dale did not believe, now, that the man who had interfered to save +Nyland was Will Bransford. Dale rode slowly homeward, scowling, +inwardly fuming with rage, but unable to form any decided plan of +action. + +It was several miles to the Bar D, Dale's ranch, and when he arrived +there he was in an ugly mood. He curtly dismissed the two men who had +accompanied him and went into the house. Opening the door of the room +he used as an office, he saw a medium-sized man of fifty sitting in a +big desk chair, smoking a cigar. + +The man smiled at Dale's surprise, but did not offer to get up, merely +extending his right hand, which Dale grasped and shook heartily. + +"Dave Silverthorn, or I'm a ghost!" ejaculated Dale, grinning. "How in +thunder did you get here?" + +"Rode," smiled the other, showing a set of white, flashing teeth. "I +saw you pass the window. You looked rather glum, and couldn't see my +horse, I suppose. Something gone wrong?" + +"Everything," grunted Dale; "that confounded young Bransford has showed +up!" + +The smile left the other's face. His eyes glowed and the corners of +his mouth took on a cruel droop. + +"He has, eh?" he said, slowly. His voice was expressionless. "So that +lead has petered out." + +He puffed slowly at his cigar, studying Dale's face, while the latter +related what had occurred. + +"So Nyland is still at large, eh?" he remarked, when Dale had finished. +"Why not set a gunman on him?" + +Dale scowled. "There ain't a gunman in this section that would take a +chance on Nyland--he's lightning!" Dale cursed. "Besides, there ain't +no use in goin' after Nyland's place unless we can get the Double A." + +"Then there wasn't any use of going after it yesterday, or today, as +you did," said the other. "Unless," he added, looking intently at +Dale, "the sister has been on your mind some." + +Dale reddened. + +"I don't mind admittin' she is," he grinned. + +"Look out, Dale," warned the other; "there's danger there. Many a big +project has been ruined by men dragging a woman into it. You have no +right to jeopardize this thing with a love affair. Peggy Nyland is +desirable to a man of your intense passion, I suppose; but this project +is bigger than any woman's love!" + +"Bah!" sneered Dale. "I can 'tend to her without losin' sight of the +main object." + +"All right, then," laughed the other. "The success of this thing +depends largely on you. We can't do a thing with the Legislature; +these sagebrush fools are adamant on the question of water-rights, They +won't restrict an owner's right and title to possession of all the +water on his land. + +"And he can dam the stream as much as he pleases, providing he don't +cut down the supply that normally flows to his neighbors; and the gorge +doesn't supply any water to the basin, so that Bransford would be +justified in directing the gorge stream. + +"In other words, old Bransford's title to the land that the gorge runs +through is unassailable. There is only one way to get at him, and that +is in some way to get possession of the title." + +"That's tied up tighter than blazes," said Dale. "Record and all are +clear. An' there ain't no judge we can get at. But if young Bransford +hadn't come----" + +"Yes," smiled Silverthorn. "It's too bad. We had a man, ready to come +on at the word, to impersonate young Bransford. He would have stayed +here long enough to get a clear title to the Double A, and then he +would have turned it over to us for a consideration. It rather looks +as though we are stumped, eh?" + +Dale frowned. Then he got up, went to a drawer in the desk before +which Silverthorn sat, and drew out a letter--the letter young +Bransford had written to his father about a year before. + +"We've still got a chance," he told Silverthorn. And then he told the +latter of his suspicions about Sanderson. + +Silverthorn's eyes gleamed. "That's possible," he said, "but how are +you going to prove it?" + +"There's a way," returned Dale. He went to the door, and shouted the +names of two men, standing in the doorway until they came--the two men +who had accompanied him that morning. He spoke to them, briefly: + +"You're ridin' straight to Tucson as fast as your cayuses can take you. +You ought to make it in a week. I'll give you that long. Find Gary +Miller. Tell him I sent you, an' find out what he knows about young +Bill Bransford. Then hit the breeze back. If it takes you more than +two weeks I'll knock your damned heads off!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LITTLE MAN TALKS + +Mary Bransford spent the first day of Sanderson's absence in the +isolation of the parlor, with the shades drawn, crying. Her brother +had bitterly disappointed her. + +He had sent word by one of the men that he was going to Las Vegas to +look up the title to the property. She thought he might at least have +brought her the message personally. + +Mary told herself that she had not been unduly demonstrative, as +Sanderson had intimated by his actions. She had merely been glad to +see him, as any sister would be glad to see a brother whom she had not +seen for many years; and she assured herself that if he loved her as +she loved him he would not have resented her display of affection. + +That affection, though, troubled Mary. To be sure, she had never had a +brother about, to fuss over, and therefore she could not tell just how +deeply she should be expected to love the one whom Providence had given +her; but she was certain that she did not love him too much. + +For Sanderson was worthy of the full measure of any sister's love. +Big, handsome, vigorous, with a way about him that any woman must +admire, Mary felt he deserved all the affection she could bestow. + +Her wonder and perplexity came over a contemplation of the quality of +that love. Was it right that she should thrill so delightfully +whenever he came near her? And was it entirely proper for her to feel +that queer tingle of delight over the strangeness of it all? + +And did that strangeness result from the fact that she had not seen him +for years; or was there some truth in Dale's assertion that she was +merely an adopted daughter, and her love for Sanderson not merely the +love of a sister for a brother, but the love of a woman for a man? + +Had Sanderson taken that view of it? She thought he had; for she had +told him about Dale's assertion, and his constraint had begun shortly +after. + +She did not blame him a great deal--after she had thought it over. He +had done the manly thing, she divined, in not taking advantage of the +situation, and she believed she loved him more than ever because of his +attitude. But she felt that she had lost something, and the second day +had gone before she succeeded in resigning herself to the new state of +affairs. + +Nothing happened. Dale did not come near the ranchhouse. Mary rode +over to the Nyland ranch and had a long talk with Peggy, and Peggy told +her that she had not seen Dale. + +Ben Nyland had driven the Double A cattle over to their own range, and +so far as he was concerned the incident with Dale was closed. But, +Peggy told Mary, Ben was bitterly resentful, and had sworn that if Dale +bothered Peggy any more he would kill him. + +Mary, however, was not greatly interested in Peggy's recital. She sat +on a chair in the kitchen of the Nyland cabin, listening to Peggy, but +making no replies. And it was not until she was ready to go that Mary +revealed the real reason for her visit--and then she did not reveal it +to Peggy, but to her own heart. + +For she reddened when she asked the question: "I wonder if you feel +about Ben as I feel about my brother--that when you kiss him you are +kissing a strange man?" + +Peggy laughed. "You would feel that way, of course. For your brother +is almost a stranger to you." + +"And do you kiss Ben often?" asked Mary. + +"Ben doesn't like it," smiled Peggy. "He is like most other men--he +likes to kiss the daughters of other men, but he gets sulky and balky +when I want to kiss him. So I don't try very often. Your brother is a +fine, big fellow, but you will find before you have been around him +very long that he wants to do his kissing away from home." + +Mary laughed, and blushed again. "I have already discovered that," she +said. "But, Peggy," she added seriously, "I love him so much that +believe I should be jealous if I thought he kissed another girl!" + +Mary rode homeward, rather comforted over her visit. And during the +remaining days of Sanderson's absence she succeeded in convincing +herself that Sanderson's attitude toward her was the usual attitude of +brothers toward sisters, and that she had nothing of which to complain. + +On the seventh day Sanderson and Owen returned. + +Mary saw them ride in and she ran to the door and waved a hand to them. +Owen flourished his hat at her, but Sanderson only grinned. + +When Sanderson came in Mary did not attempt to kiss him, but she wanted +to when he seized her hand and squeezed it warmly. For it seemed to +her that he was troubled over something. + +She watched him narrowly for signs that would tell her of the nature of +the trouble, but when he went to bed she had learned nothing. + +At breakfast the next morning she asked him what he had discovered at +Las Vegas. He looked straight at her. + +"There is no record of your birth," he said. + +She paled. "Then Dale has grounds for his suspicion," she said in a +weak voice. + +"Because your birth was not recorded is no sign you are not a +Bransford," he said. "I'll tell you this," he added gruffly: "as a +sister you suit me from the ground up; an' I'll stick to you until hell +freezes over!" + +Not until that instant did she realize that she had entertained a fear +that Sanderson would believe as Dale believed, and in an excess of joy +over the discovery that he did believe in her she got up, ran around +the table, seized Sanderson by the shoulders and laid her cheek against +his. + +"You're a dear," she said, "and I don't care whether you like it or +not, I am going to kiss you!" + +"Just once," he said, blushing. + +She kissed him, and then leaned back, looking at him reprovingly. + +"You haven't returned a kiss I have given you!" she said. "And I want +you to!" + +"All right," he agreed, and this time the warmth of his response made +her draw a long, deep breath. + +Sanderson made his escape as soon as he decently could, and walked to a +corner of the pasture fence where he stood, one arm resting on the top +rail, his gaze on the basin. + +At the court in Las Vegas he had discovered that Bransford had made a +will, bequeathing the ranch to his son. The document had been recorded +only a few months before Bransford died, showing that he had at last +forgiven the boy. + +Sanderson had intended to take possession of the ranch, in an effort to +forestall any scheme Dale might have, and while in Las Vegas he had +applied to the court for permission to have the title transferred. And +then he had been told it would be necessary for him to file an +affidavit and proof establishing his identity. + +With Barney Owen looking on Sanderson was compelled to defer signing +the affidavit, for Sanderson remembered the letter from young +Bransford, bearing the younger Bransford's signature. The letter was +still in the dresser drawer in his room, and he would have to have it +beside him while he signed Bransford's name to the affidavit in order +to imitate Bransford's handwriting successfully. Therefore he asked +permission to take the affidavit home. + +Pocketing the paper, after receiving the necessary permission, +Sanderson caught Owen looking at him with a smile. He scowled at the +little man. + +"What's eatin' you?" he demanded. + +"Curiosity," said the other. "Don't tell me you're too bashful to sign +your name in public." + +They were mounting their horses when the little man spoke, and +Sanderson grinned coldly at him. + +"You're a whole lot longer on talk than I like any of my friends to +be," he said. + +"Then I'll cut out gassing promiscuous," grinned the latter. + +Sanderson was troubled over the situation. To successfully keep Dale +from attacking his title to the ranch he must sign the affidavit and +return it to the court. He must imitate Will Bransford's signature to +prevent Mary Bransford from suspecting the deception--for at any time +she might decide to go to Las Vegas to look over the records there. + +More, he must practice writing Bransford's signature until he could +imitate it without having to look at the original. + +Determined to go to work at the deception instantly, Sanderson returned +to the ranchhouse, slipped into his room and locked the door, opened +the drawer and took out the package of letters. + +The Bransford letter was missing! Half a dozen times he thumbed the +letters in the packages over before he would admit that the one for +which he was seeking was not there. + +He stood for a time looking at the package of letters, bitterly +accusing himself. It was his own fault if the whole structure of +deception tumbled about his ears, for he should have taken the letter +when he had had an opportunity. + +Mary Bransford had it, of course. The other letters, he supposed, she +cared less for than the one written by her brother. + +For the twentieth time since his arrival at the ranch, Sanderson had an +impulse to ride away and leave Mary Bransford to fight the thing out +herself. But, as before, he fought down the impulse. + +This time--so imbued was he with determination to heap confusion upon +Alva Dale's head--he stood in the center of the room, grinning +saturninely, fully resolved that if it must be he would make a complete +confession to the girl and stay at the Double A to fight Dale no matter +what Mary thought of him. + +He might have gone to Mary, to ask her what had become of the letter. +He could have invented some pretext. But he would not; he would not +have her think he had been examining her letters. One thing he could +do without confessing that he had been prying--and he did it. + +At dinner he remarked casually to Mary: + +"I reckon you don't think enough of my letters put them away as +keepsakes?" + +"Sanderson's or Bransford's?" she returned, looking at him with a smile. + +"Both," he grinned. + +"Well," she said, "I did keep both. But, as I told you before, I had +the Sanderson letter somewhere. I have been looking for it, but have +not been able to find it." + +Sanderson grinned faintly and wondered what she would say if she knew +what care he had taken to burn the Sanderson letter. + +"The letter you wrote as yourself--the Bransford letter--I have. It +was among a lot of others in the drawer of the dresser in your room. I +was looking them over while you were gone, and I took it." + +Sanderson had a hard time to keep the eagerness out of his voice, but +he did so: + +"You got it handy?" + +She looked straight at him. "That is the oddest thing," she said +seriously. "I took it from there to keep it safe, and I have mislaid +it again, for I can't find it anywhere." + +There was no guile in her eyes--Sanderson was certain of that. And he +hoped the letter would stay mislaid. He grinned. + +"Well, I was only curious," he said. "Don't bother to look for it." + +He felt better when he went out of the house and walked toward the +corral fence. He felt more secure and capable. Beginning with the +following day, he meant to take charge of the ranch and run it as he +knew it should be run. + +He had not been at the Double A long, but he had seen signs of +shiftlessness here and there. He had no doubt that since Bransford's +death the men had taken advantage of the absence of authority to relax, +and the ranch had suffered. He would soon bring them back to a state +of efficiency. + +He heard a step behind him, and looking over his shoulder he saw the +little man approaching. + +The little man joined Sanderson, not speaking as he climbed the fence +at a point near by and sat on the top rail, idly swinging his legs. + +Sanderson had conceived a liking for Owen. There was something about +the little man that invited it. He was little, and manly despite his +bodily defects. But there was a suggestion of effeminacy mingling with +the manliness of him that aroused the protective instinct in Sanderson. + +In a big man the suggestion of effeminacy would have been disgusting, +and Sanderson's first action as owner of the ranch would have been to +discharge such a man instantly. But in Sanderson's heart had come a +spirit of tolerance toward the little man, for he felt that the +effeminacy had resulted from his afflictions. + +He was a querulous semi-invalid, trying bravely to imitate his vigorous +and healthy friends. + +"Thinking it over?" he queried, looking down at Sanderson. + +"Thinkin' what over?" + +"Well, just things," grinned the little man. "For one thing, I suppose +you are trying to decide why you didn't sign your name--over in Las +Vegas." + +Sanderson grinned mildly, but did not answer. He felt more at ease +now, and the little man's impertinences did not bother him so much as +formerly. He looked up, however, startled, when Owen said slowly: + +"Do you want me to tell you why you didn't sign Will Bransford's name +to the affidavit?" + +Sanderson's eyes did not waver as they met Owen's. + +"Tell me," he said evenly. + +"Because you are not Will Bransford," said the little man. + +Sanderson did not move; nor did he remove his gaze from the face of the +little man. He was not conscious of any emotion whatever. For now +that he had determined to stay at the Double A no matter what happened, +discovery did not alarm him. He grinned at the little man, +deliberately, with a taunting smile that the other could not fail to +understand. + +"You're a wise guy, eh?" he said. "Well, spring it. I'm anxious to +know how you got next to me." + +"You ain't sore, then?" + +"Not, none." + +"I was hoping you wouldn't be," eagerly said the little man, "for I +don't want you to hit the breeze just now. I know you are not Will +Bransford because I know Bransford intimately. I was his chum for +several years. He could drink as much as I. He was lazy and +shiftless, but I liked him. We were together in Tucson--and in other +places in Arizona. Texas, too. We never amounted to much. Do you +need to know any more? I can tell you." + +"Tell me what?" + +"More," grinned the other man, "about yourself. You are +Sanderson--Deal Sanderson--nicknamed Square Deal Sanderson. I saw you +one day in Tombstone; you were pointed out to me, and the minute I laid +my eyes on you the day Dale tried to hang Nyland, I knew you." + +Sanderson smiled. "Why didn't you tell Mary?" + +The little man's face grew grave. "Because I didn't want to queer your +game. You saved Nyland--an innocent man. Knowing your reputation for +fairness, I was convinced that you didn't come here to deceive anybody." + +"But I did deceive somebody," said Sanderson. "Not you, accordin' to +what you've been tellin' me, but Mary Bransford. She thinks I am her +brother, an' I've let her go on thinkin' it." + +"Why?" asked the little man. + +Sanderson gravely appraised the other. "There ain't no use of holdin' +out anything on you," he said. His lips straightened and his eyes +bored into the little man's. There was a light in his own that made +the little man stiffen. And Sanderson's voice was cold and earnest. + +"I'm puttin' you wise to why I've not told her," he went on. "But if +you ever open your yap far enough to whisper a word of it to her I'm +wringin' your neck, _pronto_! That goes!" + +He told Owen the story from the beginning--about the Drifter, his +letter to the elder Bransford, how he had killed the two men who had +murdered Will Bransford, and how, on the impulse of the moment, he had +impersonated Mary's brother. + +"What are you figuring to do now?" questioned the little man when +Sanderson finished. + +"I'm tellin' her right now," declared Sanderson. "She'll salivate me, +most likely, for me lettin' her kiss me an' fuss over me. But I ain't +carin' a heap. I ain't never been no hand at deceivin' no one--I ain't +foxy enough. There's been times since I've been here when I've been +scared to open my mouth for fear my damned heart would jump out. I +reckon she'll just naturally kill me when she finds it out, but I don't +seem to care a heap whether she does or not." + +The little man narrowed his eyes at Sanderson. + +"You're deeply in love with her, I suppose?" + +Sanderson flushed; then his gaze grew steady and cold. "Up till now +you've minded your own business," he said. "If you'll keep on mindin' +it, we'll----" + +"Of course," grinned Owen. "You couldn't help loving her--I love her, +too. You say you're going to tell her. Don't do it. Why should you? +Don't you see that if you told her that her brother had been murdered +she'd never get over it? She's that kind. And you know what Dale's +scheme was, don't you? Has she told you?" At Sanderson's nod, Owen +went on: + +"If you were to let it be known that you are not Will Bransford, Dale +would get the property as sure as shooting. I know his plan. I +overheard him and a man named Dave Silverthorn talking it over one +night when I was prowling around Dale's house. The window of Dale's +office was wide open, and I was crouching outside. + +"They've got a man ready to come on here to impersonate Bransford. +They would prove his claim and after he was established he would sell +out to them. They have forged papers showing that Mary is an adopted +daughter--though not legally. Don't you see that if you don't go on +letting everybody think you are Bransford, Mary will lose the ranch?" + +Sanderson shook his head. "I'd be gettin' deeper an' deeper into it +all the time--in love an' in trouble. An' when she'd find out how I'd +fooled her all the time she'd hate me." + +"Not if you save the ranch for her," argued the little man. "She'd +feel badly about her brother, maybe, but she'd forgive you if you +stayed and beat Dale at his own game." + +Sanderson did not answer. The little man climbed down from the fence +and moved close to him, talking earnestly, and at last Sanderson +grinned down at him. + +"I'm doing it," he said. "I'll stay. I reckon I was figurin' on it +all the time." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PLAIN TALK + +Barney Owen had told Sanderson of his hatred for Alva Dale, but he had +not told Sanderson many other things. He had not told the true story +of how he came to be employed at the Double A--how Mary had come upon +him one day at a shallow crossing of the river, far down in the basin. + +Owen was flat on his stomach at the edge of the water, scooping it up +with eager handfuls to quench a thirst that had endured for days. He +had been so weak that he could not stand when she found him, and in +some way she got him on his horse and brought him to the ranchhouse, +there to nurse him until he recovered his strength. + +It had been while she was caring for him that she had told him about +her fear of Dale, and thereafter--as soon as he was able to ride +again--Owen took it upon himself to watch Dale. + +In spite of his exceeding slenderness, Owen seemed to possess the +endurance and stamina of a larger and more physically perfect man. For +though he was always seen about the ranchhouse during the day--helping +at odd jobs and appearing to be busy nearly all the time--each +succeeding night found him stealthily mounting his horse to ride to the +Bar D, there to watch Dale's movements. + +He had not been at the Bar D since the night before the day on which he +had left with Sanderson to go to Las Vegas, but on the second night +following his return--soon after dark--he went to the stable, threw +saddle and bridle on his horse, and vanished into the shadows of the +basin. + +Later, moving carefully, he appeared at the edge of a tree clump near +the Bar D corral. He saw a light in one of the windows of the +house--Dale's office--and he left his horse in the shadows and stole +forward. There were two men in the office with Dale. Owen saw them +and heard their voices as he crept to a point under the window in the +dense blackness of the night. + + +The men Dale had sent to Tucson had not required the full two weeks for +the trip; they had made it in ten days, and their faces, as they sat +before Dale in the office, showed the effects of their haste. Yet they +grinned at Dale as they talked, glowing with pride over their +achievement, but the word they brought to Dale did not please him, and +he sat glaring at them until they finished. + +"Gary Miller ain't been heard of for a month, eh?" he said. "You say +you heard he started this way? Then where in hell is he?" + +Neither of the men could answer that question and Dale dismissed them. +Then he walked to a door, opened it, and called to someone in another +room. Dave Silverthorn entered the office, and for more than an hour +the two talked, their conversation being punctuated with futile queries +and profanity. + +At ten o'clock the next morning Dale appeared at the Double A +ranchhouse. Apparently he was willing to forgive and forget, for he +grinned at Owen, who was watching him from the door of the bunkhouse, +and he politely doffed his hat to Mary Bransford, who met him at the +door of the ranchhouse. + +"Well, Miss Mary," he said, "how does it feel to have a brother again?" + +"It's rather satisfying, Dale," smiled the girl. "Won't you get off +your horse?" + +The girl's lips were stiff with dread anticipation and dislike. Dale's +manner did not mislead her; his forced geniality, his gruff heartiness, +his huge smile, were all insincere, masking evil. He seemed to her +like a big, tawny, grinning beast, and her heart thumped with +trepidation as she looked at him. + +"How's Nyland?" he asked, smiling hugely. "That was a narrow +squeak--now, wasn't it? For I found that Ben Nyland didn't brand them +cattle at all--it was another man, living down the basin. That nester +near Colby's. He done it. But he sloped before we could get a rope on +him. Had a grudge against Nyland, I reckon. Sorry it happened." + +Thus he attempted to smooth the matter over. But he saw that Mary did +not believe him, and his grin grew broader. + +"Where's brother Will this mornin', Mary?" he said. + +Sanderson appeared in the doorway behind Mary. + +"You could see him if you was half lookin'," he said slowly. + +"So I could," guffawed Dale. "But if there's a pretty girl around----" + +"You come here on business, Dale?" interrupted Sanderson. "Because if +you did," he went on before Dale could answer, "I'd be glad to get it +over." + +"Meanin' that you don't want me to be hangin' around here no longer +than is necessary, eh?" said Dale. + +"You've said a heap," drawled Sanderson. + +"Well, it won't take a long time," Dale returned. "It's just this. +I've got word from Las Vegas that you've swore to an affidavit sayin' +that you're Will Bransford. That's all right--I ain't got nothin' to +say about that. But there's a law about brands. + +"Your dad registered his brand--the Double A. But that don't let you +out. Accordin' to the law you've got to do your registerin' same as +though the brand had never been registered before. Bein' the only law +around here--me bein' a deputy sheriff--I've got to look out for that +end of it. + +"An' so, if you'll just sign this here blank, with your name and +address, specifyin' your brand, why, we'll call it all settled." + +And he held out a legal-looking paper toward Sanderson. + +Sanderson's lips straightened, for as his eyes met Dale's he saw the +latter's glint with a cold cunning. For an instant Sanderson +meditated, refusing to accept the paper, divining that Dale was +concealing his real purpose; but glancing sidewise he caught a swift +wink from Owen, who had drawn near and was standing beside a porch +column. And he saw Owen distinctly jerk his head toward the house. + +Sanderson stepped forward and took the paper from Dale's hand. Then he +abruptly strode toward the house, telling Dale to wait. + +Sanderson halted in the middle of the sitting-room as Owen entered the +room through, a rear door. Barney Owen was grinning. + +"Wants your signature, does he?" said Owen. He whispered rapidly to +Sanderson, and the latter's face grew pale and grim as he listened. +When Owen had finished he grinned. + +"Now we'll give him Will Bransford's signature--just as he used to +write it. I've seen it more times than any other man ever saw it, and +I can duplicate it to a flourish. Give me the paper!" + +He sat down at a table, where there was a pen and a bottle of ink and +wrote boldly: "Will Bransford." With a grin he passed the paper back. + +Sanderson stared, then a smile wreathed his lips, for the signature was +seemingly a duplicate of that which had been written at the bottom of +the letter Will Bransford had written to his father. + +On his way to return the paper to Dale, Sanderson paused to listen +again to Owen, who whispered to him. Sanderson stiffened, looked hard +at Owen, and then grinned with straight lips. In less than no time he +was out of the house and confronting Dale. + +He watched while the latter looked at the signature; he saw the +expression of disappointment that swept over Dale's face. Then +Sanderson spoke coldly: + +"Right and proper, eh, Dale? Now I'll trouble you for that letter that +my dad dropped about a year ago--the one you picked up. It was a +letter from me, an' dad had let you read it. Fork it over, or I'll +bore you an' take it from your clothes!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE ULTIMATUM + +Dale's face whitened; for a moment he sat rigid, staring, his eyes +boring into Sanderson's. Then he reached into a pocket, drew out a +dirty envelope, and threw it at Sanderson's feet. + +"You're a damned smart boy, ain't you, Bransford?" he sneered. "But +I'm out to get you--remember that!" + +"And you remember this, Dale!" + +Sanderson was at the head of the horse Dale rode. His eyes were +blazing with suppressed fury, brought on by the other's threat. +"There's goin' to be a new deal in the basin. From now on I'm runnin' +things--an' they're runnin' square! I ain't got any use for any law +but this!" He tapped the butt of his six-shooter significantly. "An' +if you go to gettin' mixed up with the Double A or the Nyland ranch +you'll get it--plenty!" + +Dale grinned, hideously. Then he kicked his horse in the ribs and rode +away. + +Mary Bransford had not moved from her position on the porch. Sanderson +watched Dale ride away, then he smiled at Mary and entered the house. +Mary followed him. She saw Owen standing in the sitting-room, and her +face showed her surprise. + +Sanderson explained. "Owen an' me framed up on Dale," he said. "You +saw it work." + +"You'll be careful, won't you, Will?" she said. + +"Deal," smilingly insisted Sanderson. + +"Deal," she repeated, giving him a look that made him blush. Then she +went into one of the other rooms, and Sanderson and Owen went outside. +At the corner of the stable Sanderson halted and faced Owen. + +"You've got some explainin' to do," he said. "How did you know Dale +had a letter from Will Bransford to his father; an' how did you know +that Dale wanted me to write my name on that brand-registering blank so +he could compare it with Will Bransford's name on the letter?" + +"Will Bransford told me he wrote such a letter; he showed me a letter +from his dad which told how he had dropped Will's letter and how Dale +had picked it up. Dale thought old Bransford hadn't seen him pick up +the letter--but Bransford did see him. And last night I was snooping +around over at the Bar D and I overheard Dale and Silverthorn cooking +up this deal." + +Sanderson grinned with relief. "Well," he said, "that name-signing +deal sure had me considerable fussed up." He told Owen of his mental +torture following the discovery of the letter that had disappeared from +the dresser drawer. "We've got to run together from now on," he told +Owen. "I'll be Bransford an' you'll be Bransford's name. Mebbe +between us we'll make a whole man." + +Over at the Bar D, Dale was scowling at Silverthorn. + +"He ain't Will Bransford," Dale declared. "He signed his name all O.K. +an' regular, just the same as it was on the letter. But just the same +he ain't a Bransford. There ain't no Bransford ever had an eye in him +like he's got. He's a damned iceberg for nerve, an' there's more fight +in him than there is in a bunch of wildcats--if you get him started!" + +"Just the same," smiled Silverthorn, silkily, "we'll get the Double A. +Look here--" And the two bent their heads together over Dale's desk. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +DALE MOVES + +A passionate hatred of Alva Dale was slowly gripping Sanderson. It had +been aroused on that first day of his meeting with the man, when he had +seen Dale standing in front of the stable, bullying Mary Bransford and +Peggy Nyland and her brother. At that time, however, the emotion +Sanderson felt had been merely dislike--as Sanderson had always +disliked men who attempted to bully others. + +Sanderson's hatred of Dale was beginning to dominate him; it was +overwhelming all other emotions. It dulled his sense of guilt for the +part he was playing in deceiving Mary Bransford; it made him feel in a +measure justified in continuing to deceive her. + +For he divined that without his help Mary would lose the Double A. + +Sanderson had always loved a fight, and the prospect of bringing defeat +and confusion upon Dale was one that made his pulses leap with delight. + +He got up on the morning following Dale's visit, tingling with +eagerness. And yet there was no sign of emotion in his face when he +sat with Mary Bransford at breakfast, and he did not even look at her +when he left the house, mounted his horse, and rode up the gorge that +split the butte at the southern end of the range. + +All morning he prowled over the table-land, paying a great deal of +attention to the depth of the gorge, estimating its capacity for +holding water, scanning the far reaches of the big basin carefully, and +noting the location of the buildings dotting it. + +Shortly after noon he rode back to the house and came upon Mary in the +kitchen. + +"I've put off askin' until now," he said while eating the food that +Mary placed before him. "How much money did dad leave?" + +"Not much," she said. "He was never very prosperous. It took a great +deal to send me to school, and the thousand I sent you I saved myself +out of the allowance he gave me. I think there are three thousand +dollars to father's credit at the bank in Okar." + +"Where's Okar?" + +She looked quickly at him. "Don't you remember Okar? That little town +just beyond the mouth of the basin? Why, you've been there a good many +times, Will, on errands for father. There wasn't much to Okar when you +were here--just a few shanties and a store. Surely you remember!" + +Sanderson flushed. "I reckon I do remember, now that you speak of it," +he lied. "But I don't think Okar has grown much." + +"Okar has grown to be an important town--for this locality," Mary +smiled. "You see, the railroad has made it grow. It is now quite +large, and has a bank and a dozen or more stores. It is a depot for +supplies for a big section, and the railroad company has built large +corrals there. A man named Silverthorn--and Alva Dale--are the rulers +of Okar, now." + +"Who is Silverthorn?" + +"He is connected with the railroad company--a promoter, or something of +that character. He is trying to make a boom town of Okar. He has +bought a great deal of land in the basin." + +"You know what he wants the land for?" Sanderson smiled at her. + +"For speculation purposes, I suppose. If he could get water----" + +"You've figured it out," said Sanderson. "But he won't get water. The +water belongs to the Double A--to me an' to you. An' we're goin' to +sell it ourselves." + +"You mean--" began Mary. + +"That we're going to build an irrigation dam--with all the fixin's. +You and me." + +The girl sat erect, her eyes luminous and eager. "Do you think we can +do it?" she whispered. + +"Do you think you could trust me with the three thousand you said dad +left? An' would you be willin' to mortgage the Double A--if we needed +more money?" + +"Why," she declared, breathlessly, "the Double A is yours--to do with +as you see fit. If you want to try--and you think there is a chance to +win--why, why--go to it!" + +"You're a brick!" grinned Sanderson. "We'll start the ball to rollin' +right away." + +Sanderson could not escape the vigorous hug she gave him, but he did +manage to evade her lips, and he went out of the house blushing and +grinning. + +It was late in the afternoon when he got to Okar. Barney Owen was with +him. The two rode into town, dismounted at a hitching rail in front of +a building across the front of which was a sign: + + + THE OKAR HOTEL + + +Okar was flourishing--as Mary Bransford said. At its northwestern +corner the basin widened, spreading between the shoulders of two +mountains and meeting a vast stretch of level land that seemed to be +endless. + +Okar lay at the foot of the mountain that lifted its bald knob at the +eastern side of the basin's mouth. Two glittering lines of steel that +came from out of the obscurity of distance eastward skirted Okar's +buildings and passed westward into an obscurity equally distant. + +The country around Okar was devoted to cattle. Sanderson's practiced +eye told him that. The rich grassland that spread from Okar's confines +was the force that had brought the town into being, and the railroad +would make Okar permanent. + +Okar did not look permanent, however. It was of the type of the +average cow-town of the western plains--artificial and crude. Its +buildings were of frame, hurriedly knocked together, representing the +haste of a people in whom the pioneer instinct was strong and +compelling--who cared nothing for appearances, but who fought mightily +for wealth and progress. + +Upon Okar was the stamp of newness, and in its atmosphere was the +eagerness and the fervor of commercialism. Okar was the trade mart of +a section of country larger than some of the Old World states. + +Fringing the hitching rails in front of its buildings were various +vehicles--the heavy wagons of Mexican freighters, the light buckboard +of the cattleman, and the prairie schooner of the homesteader. +Mingling with the vehicles were the cow-ponies of horsemen who had +ridden into town on various errands; and in the company corrals were +many cattle awaiting shipment. + +Sanderson stood beside his horse at the hitching rail for a look at +Okar. + +There was one street--wide and dust-windrowed, with two narrow board +walks skirting it. The buildings--mostly of one story--did not +interest Sanderson, for he had seen their kind many times, and his +interest centered upon the people. + +"Different from Tombstone," he told Owen as the two entered the hotel. +"Tombstone is cattle--Okar is cattle and business. I sort of like +cattle better." + +Owen grinned. "Cattle are too slow for some of Okar's men," he said. +"There's men here that figure on making a killing every +day--financially. Gamblers winning big stakes, supply dealers charging +twenty times the value of their stuff; a banker wanting enormous +interest on his money; the railroad company gobbling everything in +sight--and Silverthorn and Dale framing up to take all the land and the +water-rights. See that short, fat man playing cards with the little +one at that table?" + +He indicated a table near the rear of the barroom, visible through an +archway that opened from the room in which a clerk with a thin, narrow +face and an alert eye presided at a rough desk. + +"That's Maison--Tom Maison, Okar's banker. They tell me he'd skin his +grandmother if he thought he could make a dollar out of the deal." +Owen grinned. "He's the man you're figuring to borrow money from--to +build your dam." + +"I'll talk with him tomorrow," said Sanderson. + +In their room Sanderson removed some of the stains of travel. Then, +telling Owen he would see him at dusk, he went out into the street. + +Okar was buzzing with life and humming with activity when Sanderson +started down the board walk. In Okar was typified the spirit of the +West that was to be--the intense hustle and movement that were to make +the town as large and as powerful as many of its sister cities. + +Threading his way through the crowd on the board walk, Sanderson +collided with a man. He grinned, not looking at the other, apologized, +and was proceeding on his way, when he chanced to look toward the +doorway of the building he was passing. + +Alva Dale was standing just inside the doorway, watching him, and as +Sanderson's gaze met his Dale grinned sneeringly. + +Sanderson's lips twitched with contempt. His own smile matched Dale's +in the quality of its hostility. + +Sanderson was about to pass on when someone struck him heavily between +the shoulders. He staggered and lurched against the rough board front +of the building going almost to his knees. + +When he could steady himself he wheeled, his hand at his hip. Standing +near him, grinning maliciously, was the man with whom he had collided. + +In the man's right hand was a pistol. + +"Bump into me, will you--you locoed shorthorn!" sneered the man as +Sanderson turned. He cursed profanely, incoherently. But he did not +shoot. + +The weapon in his hand began to sag curiously, the fingers holding it +slowly slipping from the stock. And the man's face--thin and +seamed--became chalklike beneath the tan upon it. His eyes, furtive +and wolfish, bulged with astonishment and recognition, and his mouth +opened vacuously. + +"Deal Sanderson!" he said, weakly. "Good Lord! I didn't git a good +look at yon! I'm in the wrong pew, Deal, an' I sure don't want none of +your game!" + +"Dal Colton," said Sanderson. His voice was cold and even as he +watched the other sheathe his gun. "Didn't know me, eh? But you was +figurin' on pluggin' me." + +He walked close to the man and stuck his face close to the other, his +lips in a straight line. He knew Colton to be one of the most +conscienceless "killers" in the section of the country near Tombstone. + +"Who was you lookin' for, then?" demanded Sanderson. + +"Not you--that's a cinch!" grinned the other, fidgeting nervously under +Sanderson's gaze. He whispered to Sanderson, for in the latter's eyes +he saw signs of a cold resolve to sift the matter to the bottom: + +"Look here, Square; I sure don't want none of your game. Things has +been goin' sorta offish for me for a while, an' so when I meets a guy a +while ago who tells me to 'git' a guy named Will Bransford--pointin' +you out to me when your back was turned--I takes him up. I wasn't +figurin'----" + +"Who told you to get Bransford?" demanded Sanderson. + +"A guy named Dale," whispered Colton. + +Sanderson turned swiftly. He saw Dale still standing in the doorway. +Dale was grinning coldly, and Sanderson knew he suspected what had been +whispered by Colton. But before Sanderson could move, Dale's voice was +raised loudly and authoritatively: + +"Arrest that man--quick!" + +A man behind Sanderson lunged forward, twisting Sanderson around with +the impetus of the movement. Off his balance, Sanderson saw three or +four other men dive toward Colton. He saw Colton reach for the weapon +he had previously sheathed; saw the weapon knocked from his hand. + +Four men seized Colton, and he struggled helplessly in their grasp as +he was dragged away, his face working malignantly as he looked back at +Dale. + +"Double-crossed!" he yelled; "you damned, grinnin' coyote!" + +A crowd had gathered; Sanderson shouldered his way toward Dale and +faced him. Sanderson's face was white with rage, but his voice was +cold and steady as he stood before Dale. + +"So that's the way you work, is it, Dale? I'll give you what you was +goin' to pay Colton, if you'll pull your gun right now!" + +Dale's smile was maddeningly insolent. + +"Bah!" he said, "I'm an officer of the law. There are a dozen of my +men right behind you! Pull your gun! I'd like nothing better than to +have an excuse to perforate you! Sanderson, eh?" he laughed. "Well, +I've heard of you. Square Deal, eh? And here you are, masqueradin' as +Will Bransford! That's goin' to be quite an interestin' situation at +the Double A when things get to goin', eh?" + +He laughed again, raucously, and turned his back to Sanderson, +disappearing into the store. + +Sanderson glanced behind him. Several men were watching him, their +faces set and determined. Sanderson grinned at them and continued his +interrupted walk down the street. + +But something had been added to his hatred of Alva Dale--the knowledge +that Dale would not scruple to murder him on any pretext. Sanderson's +grin grew wider as he walked, for he knew of several men who had +harbored such evil intentions against him, and they---- + +But Dale was a stronger antagonist, and he had power and authority +behind him. Still, his spirit undaunted, Sanderson's grin grew wider, +though perhaps more grim. It was entirely worth while, now, the +deceiving of the woman he had hoped to protect; it wasn't her fight, +but his. And he would make the fight a good one. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A PLOT THAT WORKED + +Sanderson left the board walk and cut through a yard to the railroad. +He followed the rails until he reached the station. To his question +the station agent informed him that Dave Silverthorn might be found in +his office on the second floor of the building. + +Sanderson went up. A sign on a glass door bore Silverthorn's name. +Sanderson entered without knocking. + +Silverthorn was seated at a desk in a far corner of the room. He +looked up as Sanderson opened the door, and said shortly: + +"Well--what is it?" + +Sanderson crossed the room and halted beside the desk. For an instant +neither man spoke. Sanderson saw a man of medium height with a rather +well-rounded stomach, sloping shoulders, and a sleek, well-fed +appearance. His cheeks were full and florid, his lips large and loose; +his eyes cold, calculating, and hard. + +Silverthorn saw a lean-faced, broad-shouldered young man with a strong +chin, a firm mouth, and an eye that fixed him with a steady, unwavering +interest. + +By the gleam in Sanderson's eyes Silverthorn divined that he was in the +presence of a strong, opposing force, and he drew a slow, deep breath. + +"Well?" he said, again. + +"You're Dave Silverthorn?" + +The other nodded. "What can I do for you?" he questioned. + +"You can listen while I talk," said Sanderson. + +"I'm Will Bransford, of the Double A. I have heard from several +sources that you an' Alva Dale are after the title to the Double A. +You want the water-rights. You can't have them. An' the title to the +Double A stays with me. Understand that? I am goin' to hold on to the +property. + +"I've heard you can juggle the law--that's your business. But you +can't juggle the law enough to horn in on the Double A. If you do, I'm +comin' for you with a law of my own!" He tapped his gun bolster +significantly. + +"That's all," he concluded. "Are you sure you understand?" + +"Perfectly," answered Silverthorn. He was smiling mirthlessly, his +face blotched and bloated with mingled fear and rage. "But I'll have +you understand this: I am not afraid of your threats. You can't bully +me. The S. and M. Railroad has dealt with your kind on more than one +occasion. There is an opportunity here to develop a large section of +land, and my company means to do it. We mean to be fair, however. +We'll buy your title to the Double A. How much do you want for it?" + +Sanderson grinned. "The Double A is not for sale. I wouldn't sell it +to you for a million! You cheap crooks think that all you have to do +is to take anything you want. I just stopped in to tell you that I'm +wise to your game, an' that the kind of law I represent ain't cluttered +up with angles an' technical processes. She runs straight to a square +deal all around. That's all, Mr. Silverthorn." + +He turned and went out, closing the door behind him. + +He had not intended to have his talk with Tom Maison, Okar's banker, +until the following morning. But upon returning to Okar's street he +saw Maison ahead of him on the sidewalk. He followed the banker, saw +him enter the front door of the bank building, and a few minutes later +he was sitting opposite Maison at a table in the banker's private room. + +Maison was short and pudgy, short of breath, with a pasty complexion. + +"Will Bransford, eh?" he said, looking sharply at Sanderson over the +table. "H'm. You don't look much like your father." + +"Nor I don't act like him, either," smiled Sanderson. "For instance," +he went on at the banker's quick look, "dad was slow; he wasn't alive +to his opportunities. How long has it been since the railroad came to +Okar?" + +"Five years." + +"Then dad was five years slower than he ought to have been. He ought +to have seen what water would do to the basin. He didn't--left that +for me." + +"Meaning what?" asked Maison, as Sanderson paused. + +"Meanin' that I want to turn the Double A water into the basin. That's +what I came here to see you for. I want to mortgage the Double A to +the limit; I want to build a dam, irrigation canals, locks, an' +everything that goes with it. It will take a heap of money." + +Maison reflected. "And you want me to supply it," he said. "Yes, that +project will require a large sum. H'm! It is--er--do you purpose to +try to handle the project yourself, Mr. Bransford?" + +"Me an' Mary Bransford. I'll hire an engineer." + +Maison's cheeks reddened a trifle. He seemed to lose interest slightly. + +"Don't you think it is rather too big a thing for one man to +handle--aided by a woman?" He smiled blandly at Sanderson. "I have +thought of the water situation in the basin. It is my opinion that it +might be worked out successfully. + +"Why not organize a company--say a company composed of influential and +powerful men like Silverthorn and Dale and--er--myself. We could issue +stock, you know. Each would take a certain number of shares--paying +you for them, of course, and leaving you in possession of a large block +of it--say--forty per cent. We could organize, elect officers----" + +"An' freeze me out," smiled Sanderson. + +Maison sat erect and gazed haughtily at his visitor. + +"No one has ever questioned my honesty," he declared. + +Sanderson smiled at him. "Nor I don't. But I want to play her a lone +hand." + +"I am afraid I wouldn't be interested in that sort of project," said +Maison. + +The thought that Maison _would_ be interested--not publicly, but +privately--made Sanderson grin. The grin angered Maison; he arose +smiling coldly. + +"I am sorry to have taken your time, Mr. Bransford," he said, +dismissing his visitor. + +Sanderson did not give up. "My father left some money in your bank," +he said; "I'll take it." + +"Certainly," said the banker. He got a withdrawal blank and laid it +before Sanderson. + +"The amount is three thousand two hundred," he said. "Just fill that +out and sign your name and yon can have the money." + +Sanderson did not sign; he sat, looking at the blank, suddenly +afflicted with the knowledge that once more the troublesome "Bransford" +signature had placed him in a dilemma. + +Undoubtedly Maison, Silverthorn, and Dale were confederates in this +matter, and Dale's insistence that he sign the register claim was a +mere subterfuge to obtain a copy of the Bransford signature in order to +make trouble for him. It occurred to Sanderson that the men suspected +him, and he grinned coldly as he raised his eyes to Maison. + +Maison was watching him, keenly; and his flush when he saw Sanderson +looking at him convinced the latter that his suspicions were not +without foundation. + +If Sanderson could have known that he had hardly left the hotel when a +man whispered to Maison; and that Maison had said to the man: "All +right, I'll go down and wait for him," Sanderson could not have more +accurately interpreted Maison's flush. + +Sanderson's grin grew grim. "It's a frame-up," he told himself. His +grin grew saturnine. He got up, folded the withdrawal blank and stuck +it in a pocket. + +"I'm leavin' the money here tonight," he said. "For a man that ain't +been to town in a long while, there'd be too many temptations yankin' +at me." + +He went out, leaving Maison to watch him from a window, a flush of +chagrin on his face. + +Sanderson walked down the street toward the hotel. He would have Owen +sign the withdrawal blank before morning--that would defeat Maison's +plan to gain evidence of the impersonation. + + +Sanderson had not been gone from Silverthorn's office more than five +minutes when Dale entered. Silverthorn was sitting at his desk +scowling, his face pale with big, heavy lines in it showing the strain +of his interview with Sanderson. + +"Bransford's been here!" guessed Dale, looking at Silverthorn. + +Silverthorn nodded, cursing. + +"You don't need to feel conceited," laughed Dale; "he's been to see me, +too." + +Dale related what had happened on the street some time before, and +Silverthorn's scowl deepened. + +"There are times when you don't seem to be able to think at all, Dale!" +he declared. "After this, when you decide to do a thing, see me +first--or Maison. The last thing we want to happen right now is to +have this fake Bransford killed." + +"Why?" + +"I've just got word from Las Vegas that he's submitted his affidavit +establishing his identity, and that the court has accepted it. That +settles the matter until--or unless--we can get evidence to the +contrary. And if he dies without us getting that evidence we are +through." + +"Him dyin' would make things sure for us," contended Dale. "Mary +Bransford wouldn't have any claim--us havin' proof that she ain't a +Bransford." + +"This fellow is no fool," declared Silverthorn. "Suppose he's wise to +us, which he might be, and he has willed the property to the girl. +Where would we be, not being able to prove that he isn't Will +Bransford?" + +Dale meditated. Then he made a wry face. "That's right," he finally +admitted. He made a gesture of futility. "I reckon I'll let you do +the plannin' after this." + +"All right," said Silverthorn, mollified. "Have you set Morley on +Barney Owen?" + +"Owen was goin' right strong a few minutes after this Bransford guy +left him," grinned Dale. + +"All right," said Silverthorn, "go ahead the way we planned it. But +don't have our friend killed." + + +When Sanderson entered the hotel the clerk was alone in the office +pondering over the register. + +Dusk had fallen, and the light in the office was rather dim. Through +the archway connecting the office with the saloon came a broad beam of +light from a number of kerosene lamps. From beyond the archway issued +the buzz of voices and the clink of glasses; peering through the +opening Sanderson could see that the barroom was crowded. + +Sanderson mounted the stairs leading from the office. When he had left +Owen, the latter had told Sanderson that it was his intention to spend +the time until the return of his friend in reading. + +Owen, however, was not in the room. Sanderson descended the stairs, +walked to the archway that led into the saloon, and looked inside. In +a rear corner of the barroom he saw Owen, seated at a table with +several other men. Owen's face was flushed; he was talking loudly and +extravagantly. + +Sanderson remembered what Owen had told him concerning his appetite for +strong liquor, he remembered, too, that Owen was in possession of a +secret which, if divulged, would deliver Mary Bransford into the hands +of her enemies. + +Sanderson's blood rioted with rage and disgust. He crossed the barroom +and stood behind Owen. The latter did not see him. One of the men +with Owen did see Sanderson, though, and he looked up impudently, and +smilingly pushed a filled glass of amber-colored liquor toward Owen. + +"You ain't half drinkin', Owen," he said. + +Sanderson reached over, took the glass, threw its contents on the floor +and grasped Owen by the shoulder. His gaze met the tempter's, coldly. + +"My friend ain't drinkin' no more tonight," he declared. + +The tempter sneered, his body stiffening. + +"He ain't, eh?" he grinned, insolently. "I reckon you don't know him; +he likes whisky as a fish likes water." + +Several men in the vicinity guffawed loudly. + +Owen was drunk. His hair was rumpled, his face was flushed, and his +eyes were bleared and wide with an unreasoning, belligerent light as he +got up, swaying unsteadily, and looked at Sanderson. + +"Not drink any more?" he demanded loudly. "Who says I can't? I've got +lots of money, and there's lots of booze here. Who says I can't drink +any more?" + +And now, for the first time, he seemed to realize that Sanderson stood +before him. But the knowledge appeared merely to increase his +belligerence to an insane fury. He broke from Sanderson's restraining +grasp and stood off, reeling, looking at Sanderson with the grin of a +satyr. + +"Look who's telling me I can't drink any more!" he taunted, so that +nearly every man in the room turned to look at him, "It's my guardian +angel gentlemen--Will Bransford, of the Double A! Will Bransford--ha, +ha, ha! Will Bransford! Come an' look at him, gentlemen! Says I +can't drink any more booze. He's running the Double A, Bransford is. +There's a lot I could tell you about Bransford--a whole lot! He +ain't----" + +His maudlin talk broke off short, for Sanderson had stepped to his side +and placed a hand over his mouth. Owen struggled, broke away, and +shouted: + +"Damn you, let me alone! I'm going to tell these people who you are. +You're----" + +Again his talk was stilled. This time the method was swift and +certain. Sanderson took another step toward him and struck. His fist +landed on Owen's jaw, resounding with a vicious smack! in the sudden +silence that had fallen, and Owen crumpled and sank to the floor in an +inert heap. + +Sanderson was bending over him, preparing to carry him to his room, +when there came an interruption. A big man, with a drawn six-shooter, +stepped to Sanderson's side. A dozen more shoved forward and stood +near him, the crowd moving back, Sanderson sensed the movement and +stood erect, leaving Owen still on the floor. One look at the hostile +faces around him convinced Sanderson that the men were there by design. + +He grinned mirthlessly into the face of the man with the drawn pistol. + +"Frame-up, eh?" he said. "What's the game?" + +"You're wanted for drawin' a gun on Dave Silverthorn--in his office. +I'm a deputy sheriff, an' I've got a warrant for you. Want to see it?" + +Sanderson did not answer. Here was a manifestation of Dale's power and +cupidity. + +The charge was a mere subterfuge, designed to deprive him of his +liberty. Sanderson had no intention of submitting. + +The deputy saw resistance in the gleam of Sanderson's eyes, and he +spoke sharply, warningly: + +"Don't try any funny business; I've a dozen men here!" + +Sanderson laughed in his face. He lunged forward, striking bitterly +with the movement. The deputy's body doubled forward--Sanderson's fist +had been driven into his stomach. His gun clattered to the floor; he +reached out, trying to grasp Sanderson, who evaded him and struck +upward viciously. + +The deputy slid to the floor, and Sanderson stood beside the table, his +gun menacing the deputy's followers. + +Sanderson had worked fast. Possibly the deputy's men had anticipated +no resistance from Sanderson, or they had been stunned with the +rapidity with which he had placed their leader out of action. + +Not one of them had drawn a weapon. They watched Sanderson silently as +he began to back away from them, still covering them with his pistol. + +Sanderson had decided to desert Owen; the man had proved a traitor, and +could not expect any consideration. Owen might talk--Sanderson +expected he would talk; but he did not intend to jeopardize his liberty +by staying to find out. + +He stepped backward cautiously, for he saw certain of the men begin to +move restlessly. He cautioned them, swinging the muzzle of his pistol +back and forth, the crowd behind him splitting apart as he retreated. + +He had gone a dozen steps when someone tripped him. He fell backward, +landing on his shoulders, his right elbow striking hard on the board +floor and knocking the pistol out of his hand. + +He saw the men surge forward, and he made a desperate effort to get to +his feet. But he did not succeed. He was on his knees when several +men, throwing themselves at him, landed on top of him. Their combined +weight crushed him to the floor, but he squirmed out of the mass and +got to his feet, striking at the faces he saw around him, worrying the +men hither and yon, dragging them with him as he reeled under savage +blows that were rained on him. + +He had torn himself almost free; one man still clung to him, and he was +trying to shake the fellow off, that he might hit him effectively, when +a great weight seemed to fall on his head, blackness surrounded him, +and he pitched face down on the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +TEE VOICE OF THE COYOTE + +When Sanderson regained consciousness he was lying on his back on a +board floor. His head seemed to have been smashed, he was dizzy and +weak, but he sat up and looked around him. + +Then he grinned wanly. + +He was in jail. A heavy, barred door was in front of him; turning his +head he saw an iron-grated window behind him. Door and window were set +in heavy stone walls; two other stone walls, with a narrow iron cot set +against one of them, rose blankly on either side. + +Sanderson got up, reeling, and went to the window. Darkness had come; +he could see Okar's lights flickering and winking at him from the +buildings that skirted the street. Various sounds reached his +ears--Okar's citizens were enjoying themselves. + +Sanderson did not watch the lights long. He walked to the cot, seated +himself on its edge, rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in the +upturned palms of his hands and reflected on what had occurred to him. + +Remembering the four thousand dollars in bills of large denomination +that Burroughs had paid him when leaving the Pig-Pen, his hand went to +the money belt around his waist. + +Belt and money were gone! + +Sanderson got up again, walked to the door and called. + +A heavy-featured man slouched down the corridor and halted near the +door. + +"Awake, eh?" he grinned. "Dale sure did hand it to you--now, didn't +he? Well," he added as Sanderson's lips straightened at his words, +"what's eatin' you?" + +"I had a belt with some money in it--four thousand. What's become of +it?" + +"Four thousand!" the man jeered. "That bump on the head is still +affectin' you, I reckon. Four thousand--shucks!" He laughed. "Well, +I ain't seen it--if that's any consolation to you. If you'd had it +when you come here I'd sure seen it." + +"Who brought me here?" + +"Dale and his first deputy--the guy you poked in the stummick, over in +the Okar Hotel. They tell me you fi't like hell! What's Dale got +ag'in' you? Be sure was some het up about you." + +Sanderson did not answer. He turned his back to the jailer and walked +to the cot, again sitting on its edge. He heard the jailer sniff +contemptuously, but he paid no attention to him. + +Prominent in Sanderson's thoughts was the realization that Dale had +taken his money. He knew that was the last of it--Dale would not admit +taking it. Sanderson had intended to use the four thousand on the +Double A irrigation project. The sum, together with the three thousand +he meant to draw from the Okar bank, would have been enough to make a +decent start. + +Sanderson had some bitter thoughts as he sat on the edge of the cot, +all of them centering around Dale, Silverthorn, Maison, Owen, Mary +Bransford, and himself. He realized that he had been defeated in the +first clash with the forces opposed to him, that Owen had turned +traitor, that Mary Bransford's position now was more precarious than it +had been before his coming, and that he had to deal with resourceful, +desperate, and unscrupulous men. + +And yet, sitting there at the edge of the cot, Sanderson grinned. The +grin did not make his face attractive, for it reflected something of +the cold, bitter humor and savage passion that had gripped his soul. + + +At noon the next day Sanderson, looking out of the window of his cell; +heard a sound at the door. He turned, to see Silverthorn standing in +the corridor. + +Silverthorn smiled blandly at him. + +"Over it, I see," he said. "They used you rather roughly, eh? Well, +they tell me you made them step some." + +Sanderson deliberately turned his back and continued to look out of the +window. + +"On your dignity, eh?" sneered Silverthorn. "Well, let me tell you +something. We've heard a lot about you--from Dal Colton and Barney +Owen. Morley--one of our men--got Owen soused last night, as per +orders, and Owen spilled his knowledge of you all over the town. It's +pretty well known, now, that you are Deal Sanderson, from down +Tombstone way. + +"I don't know what your game was, but I think it's pretty well queered +by now. I suppose you had some idea of impersonating Bransford, hoping +to get a slice of the property. I don't blame you for trying. It was +up to us to see that you didn't get away with it. + +"But we don't want to play hog. If you'll admit before a notary that +you are not Will Bransford we'll hand you back the four thousand Dale +took from you, give you ten thousand in addition and safe conduct out +of the county. That strike you?" + +Sanderson did not answer. + +Silverthorn's face reddened. "You're a damned fool!" he sneered, +venomously. "We'll keep you in jail here for a thousand years, if +necessary. We'll do worse! + +"Look here!" he suddenly said. But Sanderson did not turn. +Silverthorn rattled a paper. + +"Here's a withdrawal slip on the Okar bank, calling for three thousand +two hundred dollars, signed by Will Bransford. Barney Owen drew the +money last night and blew it in gambling and drinking. He says he's +been signing Bransford's name--forging it--at your orders. The +signature he put on this paper is a dead ringer for the one on the +registry blank you gave Dale. + +"Dale saw Owen sign that. That's why he knew you are not Will +Bransford. Understand? Maison will swear you signed the withdrawal +slip and got the money. We'll prove that you are not Bransford, and +you'll go to the Las Vegas pen for twenty years! Now, let's talk +business!" + +Sanderson turned. There was a mirthless grin on his face. He spoke +loudly, calling the jailer. + +When the latter appeared in the corridor beside Silverthorn, Sanderson +addressed him without looking at the other: + +"You ain't on your job a heap, are you? There's a locoed coyote +barkin' at me through the door, there. Run him out, will you--he's +disturbin' me plenty." + +He turned from the door, stretched himself on the cot, and with his +face to the wall listened while Silverthorn cursed. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +DALE PAYS A VISIT + +Shortly after midnight Sanderson was sound asleep on the cot in the +cell when a strange, scraping noise awakened him. He lay still for a +long time, listening, until he discovered that the sound came from the +window. Then he sat up stealthily and looked around to see, framed in +the starlit gloom of the night, the face of Barney Owen, staring in +through the window at him. + +The sight of Owen enraged Sanderson, but his curiosity drove him to the +window. + +The little man was hanging to the iron bars; his neck muscles were +straining, his face was red and his eyes bright. + +"Don't talk, now!" he warned. "The boss of the dump is awake and he'll +hear. He's in his room; there's nobody else around. I wanted to tell +you that I'm going to knock him silly and get you out of this!" + +"Why?" mocked Sanderson, lowly. + +Owen's face grew redder. "Oh, I know I've got something coming, but +I'm going to get you out all the same. I've got our horses and guns. +Be ready!" + +He slipped down. Sanderson could hear his feet thud faintly on the +sand outside. + +Sanderson got into his clothes and stood at the cell door, waiting. +For a long time he heard no sound, but presently he caught the clank of +a door, followed by a swift step, and Owen stood in the corridor before +the cell door, a bunch of keys in his hand. + +There was no word spoken. Owen unlocked the door, Sanderson slipped +out, Owen passed him the six-shooter he had lost in the barroom of the +Okar Hotel, and the two slipped noiselessly down the corridor. + +A minute later they were mounting the horses that Owen had brought, and +shortly afterward they were moving like shadows away from the outskirts +of Okar. + +Not until they were well out in the big basin did either of them speak. +And then Sanderson said, shortly: + +"Silverthorn was tellin' me you gassed everything. Are you feelin' +better over it?" + +Owen's head bent over his horse's mane; his chin was on his chest when +he answered: + +"Come and kill me." + +"Hell!" exploded Sanderson, disgustedly. "If there was anything comin' +to you killin' would be too good for you. You ain't done anything to +me, you sufferin' fool--not a thing! What you've done you've done to +Mary Bransford. When you see Dale an' Silverthorn grabbin' the Double +A, an' Mary Bransford ridin' away, homeless--you'll have feelin's of +remorse, mebbe--if you've got any man in you at all!" + +Owen writhed and groaned. + +"It was the whisky--the cursed whisky!" he whispered. "I can't let it +alone--I love it! And once I get a taste of it, I'm gone---I'm a +stark, staring lunatic!" + +"I'd swear to that," grimly agreed Sanderson. + +"I didn't mean to say a word to anybody," wailed the little man. "Do +you think I'd do anything to harm Mary Bransford--after what she did +for me? But I did--I must have done it. Dale said I did, Silverthorn +said I did, and you say I did. But I don't remember. Silverthorn said +I signed a receipt for some money from the Okar bank--three thousand, +odd. I don't remember. Oh, but I'm--" + +"Calling yourself names won't get you back to where you was before you +made a fool of yourself," Sanderson told him, pityingly. "An' me +tellin' you what I think of you won't relieve my feelin's a whole lot, +for there ain't words enough layin' around loose. + +"What I want to know is this: did you go clean loco, or do you remember +anything that happened to you? Do you know who got the money you drew +from the bank?" + +"Dale," answered Owen. "He had that, for I remember him counting it in +the back room of the hotel. There was more, too; I heard him telling +Silverthorn there was about seven thousand in all. Silverthorn wanted +him to put it all back in the bank, but Dale said there was just enough +for him to meet his pay-roll--that he owed his men a lot of back pay. +He took it with him." + +"My four thousand," said Sanderson, shortly. + +"Yours?" Owen paled. + +"Dale lifted my money belt," Sanderson returned. "I was wondering what +he did with it. So that's what." + +He relapsed into a grim silence, and Owen did not speak again. + +They rode several miles in that fashion--Owen keeping his horse +slightly behind Sanderson's, his gaze on the other's face, his own +white with remorse and anxiety. + +At last he heard Sanderson laugh, and the sound of it made him grit his +teeth in impotent agony. + +"Sanderson," he said, gulping, "I'm sorry." + +"Sure," returned the other. "If I hadn't wised up to that quite a +spell ago, you'd be back on the trail, waitin' for some coyote to come +along an' get his supper." + +They rode in silence for a long time. They came to the gentle slope of +the basin and began to climb it. + +A dozen times Owen rode close to Sanderson, his lips trembling over +unuttered words, but each time he dropped back without speaking. His +eyes, fixed worshipfully on the back of the big, silent man ahead of +him, were glowing with anxiety and wonder. + +In the ghostly darkness of the time before the gray forerunner of the +dawn appears on the horizon they came in sight of the Double A +ranchhouse. + +Sanderson was still leading. The ranchhouse burst upon his vision as +his horse topped a rise that had obscured his view of the ranchhouse, +and he saw it, clearly outlined. + +Riding down the slope of the rise he smiled. For there was a light in +one of the ranchhouse windows. Mary had left it burn on his account, +he divined. + +He halted and allowed Owen to come near him. + +"Mary ain't to hear about this deal tonight," he told the little man. +"Not a peep--understand?" + +Without waiting for an answer he rode onward. + +Thinking that, perhaps, in spite of the burning lamp Mary might be +sleeping, Sanderson cautiously dismounted at the corral gates, and, +leaving Owen to put his own horse away, he walked toward the house, +stealthily, for he did not wish to awaken the girl. + +Halfway across the ranchhouse yard, Sanderson saw a shadow cross the +light in the window. Again he grinned, thinking Mary had not gone to +bed after all. + +But, going forward more unconcernedly, Sanderson's smile faded and was +succeeded by a savage frown. For in the shadow formed by the little +"L" at the junction of the house and porch, he saw a horse saddled and +bridled. + +Suddenly alert, and yielding to the savage rage that gripped him, +Sanderson stole softly forward and looked closely at the animal. He +recognized it instantly as Dale's, and in the instant, his face pale, +his eyes blazing with passion, he was on the porch, peering through one +of the darkened windows. + +Inside he saw Dale and Mary Bransford. They were in the sitting-room. +Dale was sitting in a big chair, smoking a cigar, one arm carelessly +thrown over the back of the chair, his legs crossed, his attitude that +of the master. + +Standing perhaps a dozen feet from him was Mary Bransford. + +The girl's eyes were wide with fright and astonishment, disbelief, +incredulity--and several other emotions that Sanderson could not +analyze. He did not try. One look at her sufficed to tell him that +Dale was baiting her, tantalizing her, mocking her, and Sanderson's +hatred for the man grew in intensity until it threatened to overwhelm +him. + +There was in his mind an impulse to burst into the house and kill Dale +where he sat. It was the primitive lust to destroy an unprincipled +rival that had seized Sanderson, for he saw in Dale's eyes the bold +passion of the woman hunter. + +However, Sanderson conquered the impulse. He fought it with the +marvelous self-control and implacable determination that had made him +feared and respected wherever men knew him, and in the end the faint, +stiff grin on his face indicated that whatever he did would be done +with deliberation. + +This was an instance where the eavesdropper had some justification for +his work, and Sanderson listened. + +He heard Dale laugh--the sound of it made Sanderson's lips twitch +queerly. He saw Mary cringe from Dale and press her hands over her +breast. Dale's voice carried clearly to Sanderson. + +"Ha, ha!" he said. "So _that_ hurts, eh? Well, here's more of the +same kind. We got Barney Owen drunk last sight, and he admitted that +he'd signed all of Sanderson's papers--the papers that were supposed to +have been signed by your brother. Why didn't Sanderson sign them? +Why? Because Sanderson couldn't do it. + +"Owen, who knew your brother in Arizona, signed them, because he knew +how to imitate your brother's writing. Get that! Owen signed a bank +receipt for the money old Bransford had in the bank. Owen got it and +gave it to me. He was so drunk he didn't know what he was doing, but +he could imitate your brother's writing, all right." + +"You've got the money?" gasped the girl. + +Again Dale laughed, mockingly. "Yep," he said, "I've got it. Three +thousand two hundred. And I've got four thousand that belongs to that +four-flusher, Square Deal. Seven thousand." He laughed again. + +"Where is Sanderson?" questioned the girl. + +"In jail, over in Okar." Dale paused long enough to enjoy the girl's +distress. Then he continued: "Owen is in jail, too, by this time. +Silverthorn and Maison are not taking any chances on letting him go +around loose." + +"Sanderson in jail!" gasped Mary. She seemed to droop; she staggered +to a chair and sank into it, still looking at Dale, despair in her eyes. + +Dale got up and walked to a point directly in front of her, looking +down at her, triumphantly. + +"That's what," he said. "In jail. Moreover, that's where they'll stay +until this thing is settled. We mean to have the Double A. The sooner +you realize that, the easier it will be for you. + +"I'm offering you a way out of it--an easy way. That guy, Sanderson, +ain't on the level. He's been working you, making a monkey of +you--fooling you. He wants the Double A for himself. He's been +hanging around here, passing himself off as your brother, aiming to get +on the good side of you--getting you to love him good and hard. Then +mebbe he'd tell you, thinking that you'd forgive him. But mebbe that +wasn't his game at all. Mebbe he'd figured to grab the ranch and turn +you out. + +"Now, I'm offering you a whole lot. Mebbe you've thought I was sweet +on that Nyland girl. Get that out of your mind. I was only fooling +with her--like any man fools with a girl. I want her ranch--that's +all. But I don't care a damn about the Double A, I want you. I've had +my eye on you right along. Mebbe it won't be marriage right away, +but----" + +"Alva Dale!" + +The girl was on her feet, her eyes blazing. + +Dale did not retreat from her; he stood smiling at her, his face +wreathed in a huge grin. He was enjoying the girl. + +Sanderson slipped along the wall of the house and opened the door. It +creaked loudly on its hinges with the movement, causing both Dale and +the girl to turn and face it. + +Mary Bransford stood rigid as she saw Sanderson standing in the +doorway, a flush sweeping swiftly over her face. There was relief in +her eyes. + +Astonishment and stark, naked fear were in Dale's eyes. He shrank back +a step, and looked swiftly at Sanderson's right hand, and when he saw +that it held a six-shooter he raised both his own hands, shoulder-high, +the palms toward Sanderson. + +"So you know it means shootin', eh?" said Sanderson grimly as he +stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him, slamming it +shut with his left hand. + +"Well, shootin' goes." There was the cold calm of decision in his +manner; his eyes were ablaze with the accumulated hate and rage that +had been aroused over what he had heard. The grin that he showed to +Dale drew his lips into two straight, stiff lines. + +"I reckon you think you've earned your red shirt, Dale," he said, "for +tellin' tales out of school. Well, you'll get it. There's just one +thing will save your miserable hide. You got that seven thousand on +you?" + +Dale hesitated, then nodded. + +Sanderson spoke to Mary Bransford without removing his gaze from Dale: + +"Get pen, ink, an' paper." + +The girl moved quickly into another room, returning almost instantly +with the articles requested. + +"Sit down an' write what I tell you to," directed Sanderson. + +Dale dropped into a chair beside a center-table, took up the pen, +poised it over the paper, and looked at Sanderson. + +"I am hereby returning to Deal Sanderson the seven thousand two hundred +dollars I stole from, him," directed Sanderson. "I am doing this of my +own accord--no one is forcin' me," went on Sanderson. "I want to add +that I hereby swear that the charge of drawin' a gun on Silverthorn was +a frame-up, me an' Silverthorn an' Maison bein' the guilty parties," +finished Sanderson. + +"Now," he added, when Dale had written as directed, "sign it." + +Dale signed and stood up, his face aflame with rage. + +"I'll take the money--now," said Sanderson. + +Dale produced it from various pockets, laying it on the table. He said +nothing. Mary Bransford stood a little distance away, watching +silently. + +"Count it, Miss Bransford," said Sanderson when Dale had disgorged the +money. + +The two men stood silent as the girl fingered the bills. At last she +looked at Sanderson and nodded. + +The latter grinned. "Everything's regular, now," he said. He looked +at Mary. "Do you want him killed, ma'am? He'd be a lot better off +dead. You'd be better off, too. This kind of a skunk is always +around, botherin' women--when there ain't no men around." + +Mary shook her head with a decisive negative. + +"Then he won't die, right now," said Sanderson. "He'll pull his +freight away from the Double A, though, ma 'am. An' he'll never come +back." + +He was talking to Dale through the girl, and Dale watched him, scowling. + +"If he does come back, you'll tell me, won't you, ma'am? An' then +there'll never be an Alva Dale to bother you again--or to go around +robbin' honest men, an' tryin' to get them mixed up with the law." + +And now he turned from the girl and spoke to Dale: + +"You go right back to Okar an' tell Maison an' Silverthorn what has +happened here tonight. Show them how the fear of God has got into your +heart an' made you yearn to practice the principles of a square deal. +Tell them that they'd better get to goin' straight, too, for if they +don't there's a guy which was named after a square deal that is goin' +to snuff them off this hemisphere middlin' rapid. That's all. You'd +better hit the breeze right back to Okar an' spread the good news." + +He stood, a grim smile on his face, watching Dale as the latter walked +to the door. When Dale stepped out on the porch Sanderson followed +him, still regarding the movements of the other coldly and alertly. + +Mary heard them--their steps on the boards of the porch; she heard the +saddle leather creak as Dale climbed on his horse; she heard the sound +of the hoofbeats as the horse clattered out of the ranchhouse yard. + +And then for several minutes she stood near the little table in the +room, listening vainly for some sound that would tell her of the +presence of Sanderson on the porch. None came. + +At last, when she began to feel certain that he had gone to the +bunkhouse, she heard a step on the porch and saw Sanderson standing in +the doorway. + +He grinned at her, meeting her gaze fairly. + +"Dale told you a heap of truth, ma'am," he said. "I feel more like a +man tonight than I've felt for a good many days--an' nights." + +"Then it was true--as Dale said--that you are not my brother?" said the +girl. She was trying to make her voice sound severe, but only +succeeded in making it quaver. + +"I ain't your brother." + +"And you came here to try to take the ranch away from me--to steal it?" + +He flushed. "You've got four thousand of my money there, ma'am. +You're to keep it. Mebbe that will help to show what my intentions +were. About the rest--your brother an' all--I'll have to tell you. +It's a thing you ought to know, an' I don't know what's been keepin' me +from tellin' you all along. + +"Mebbe it was because I was scared you'd take it hard. But since these +sneaks have got to waggin' their tongues it'll have to be told. If you +sit down by the table there, I'll tell you why I done what I did." + +She took a chair beside the table and faced him, and, standing before +her, speaking very gently, but frankly, he related what had occurred to +him in the desert. She took it calmly, though there were times when +her eyes glowed with a light that told of deep emotion. But she soon +became resigned to the death of her brother and was able to listen to +Sanderson's story of his motive in deceiving her. + +When he related his emotion during their first meeting--when he had +told Dale that he was her brother, after yielding to the appeal in her +eyes--she smiled. + +"There was some excuse for it, after all," she declared. + +"An' you ain't blamin' me--so much?" he asked. + +"No," she said. She blushed as she thought of the times she had kissed +him. He was thinking of her kisses, too, and as their eyes met, each +knew what the other was thinking about. Sanderson smiled at her and +her eyes dropped. + +"It wasn't a square deal for me to take them, then, ma'am," he told +her. "But I'm goin' to stay around here an' fight Dale an' his friends +to a finish. That is, if you want me to stay. I'd like a straight +answer. I ain't hangin' around where I ain't wanted." + +Her eyes glowed as she looked at him. + +"You'll have to stay, now," she said. "Will is dead, and you will have +to stay here and brazen it out. They'd take the Double A from me +surely, if you were to desert me. You will have to stay and insist +that you are my brother!" + +"That's a contract," he agreed. "But"--he looked at her, a flush on +his face--"goin' back to them kisses. It wasn't a square deal. But +I'm hopin' that a day will come----" + +She got up, her face very red. "It is nearly morning," she interrupted. + +"Yes," he smiled; "things are only beginnin'." + +"You are impudent--and imprudent," she said, looking straight at him. + +"An' hopeful," he answered, meeting her eyes. + +Fifteen minutes later, stretched out on his bed, Sanderson saw the dawn +breaking in the east. It reminded him of the morning he had seen the +two riders above him on the edge of the arroyo. As on that other +morning, he lay and watched the coming of the dawn. And when later he +heard Mary moving about in the kitchen he got up, not having slept a +wink, and went out to her. + +"Did you sleep well?" she asked. + +"How could I," he asked, "with a new day dawnin' for me?" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE HAND OF THE ENEMY + +When in the bunkhouse the next morning Sanderson informed Barney Owen +of what had occurred during the night, the latter looked fixedly at +Sanderson. + +"So she didn't take it hard," he said. + +"Was you expectin' her to? For a brother that she hadn't seen in a +dozen years--an' which she knows in her secret heart wasn't any good?" +retorted Sanderson. "Shootin' your face off in Okar--or anywhere +else--don't go any more," added Sanderson. "She's pretendin', +publicly, that I'm her brother." + +"I'm through talking," declared Owen. + +"Or livin'. It's one or the other," warned Sanderson. + +Sanderson took the seven thousand dollars that Mary gave him, rode to +Lazette--a town fifty miles eastward from the basin---and deposited the +money in a bank there. Then he rode eastward still farther and in +another town discovered a young engineer with a grievance against his +employers. + +The result of this discovery was that on the following morning the +young engineer and Sanderson journeyed westward to the basin, arriving +at the Double A late in the afternoon of the next day. + +On the edge of the plateau after the engineer and, Sanderson had spent +three or four days prowling through the basin and the gorge, the +engineer spoke convincingly: + +"It's the easiest thing in the world! A big flume to the point I +showed you, a big main ditch and several laterals will do the trick. +I'm with you to the finish!" + +Sanderson smiled at the engineer's glowing enthusiasm and told him of +the opposition he would meet in developing the project. + +"There'll be a heap of schemin', an' mebbe shootin', Williams," +Sanderson told him. "Puttin' through this deal won't be any +pussy-kitten affair." + +"So much the better," laughed the engineer; "I'm fed up on soft snaps +and longing for action." + +The engineer was thirty; big, square-shouldered, lithe, and capable. +He had a strong face and a level, steady eye. + +"If you mean business, let's get acquainted," he said. "My front name +is Kent." + +"Well, Kent, let's get busy," smiled Sanderson. "You go to work on +your estimates, order your material, hire your men. I'll see how bad +the people in the basin want the water they've been expectin'." + +Kent Williams took up his quarters in the bunkhouse and immediately +began work, though before he could do much he rode to Okar, telegraphed +to Dry Bottom, the town which had been the scene of his previous +activity, and awaited the arrival of several capable-looking young men. + +In company with the latter he returned to the Double A, and for many +days thereafter he and his men ran the transit and drove stakes in the +basin and along the gorge. + +Sanderson spent much of his time talking with the cattlemen in the +basin. They were all eager to have water brought to their ranches, for +it would save them the long trip to the river, which was inaccessible +in many places, and they welcomed the new project. + +0ne of the men--a newcomer to the basin--voiced the general sentiment. + +"We want water, an' we don't give a damn who brings it here. First +come, first served!" + +The big problem to Sanderson, however, was the question of money. He +was aware that a vast sum would be required. Nearly all the money he +possessed would be sunk in the preliminary work, and he knew that if +the work was to go on he must borrow money. + +He couldn't get money in Okar, he knew that. + +He rode to Lazette and talked with a banker there. The latter was +interested, but unwilling to lend. + +"The Okar Basin," he said. "Yes, I've heard about it. Great prospects +there. But I've been told that Silverthorn and Maison are going to put +it through, and until I hear from them, I shouldn't like to interfere." + +"That gang won't touch the Double A water!" declared Sanderson. "I'll +see the basin scorched to a cinder before I'll let them in on the deal!" + +The banker smiled. "You are entitled to the water, of course; and I +admire your grit. But those men are powerful. I have to depend on +them a great deal. So you can see that I couldn't do anything without +first consulting them." + +Sanderson left Lazette in disgust. It was not until after he had tried +in Dry Bottom and Las Vegas that he realized how subtle and +far-reaching was the power and influence of the financial rulers of +Okar. + +"We should like to let you have the money," the Las Vegas banker told +him. "But, unfortunately, a loan to you would conflict with our +interests in Okar. We know the big men in Okar have been considering +the water question in the basin, and we should not like to antagonize +them." + +The trip consumed two weeks, and Sanderson returned to the Double A to +discover that during his absence very little work had been done. + +"It looks like we're up against it," Williams informed him when pressed +for an explanation. "We can't get a pound of material. I went +personally to Okar and was told by Silverthorn that the railroad would +accept no material consigned to the Double A ranch." + +"Pretty raw," was Sanderson's only comment. + +"Raw? It's rotten!" declared Williams. "There's plenty of the kind +of material we want in Lazette. To get it here would mean a fifty-mile +haul. I can get teams and wagons in Lazette," he added, an eager note +in his voice. + +"Go to it," said Sanderson. + +Williams smiled admiringly. "You're game, Mr. Man," he said; "it's a +pleasure to work for you!" + +However, it was not courage that impelled Sanderson to accept the +hazard and expense of the fifty-mile haul. In his mind during the days +he had been trying to borrow money had been a picture of the defeat +that was ahead of him if he did not succeed; he could imagine the +malicious satisfaction with which his three enemies would discuss his +failure. + +Inwardly, Sanderson was writhing with impatience and consumed with an +eagerness to get into personal contact with his enemies, the passion to +triumph had gripped his soul, and a contempt for the sort of law in +which Okar dealt had grown upon him until the contemplation of it had +aroused in him a savage humor. + +Okar's law was not law at all; it was a convenience under which his +three enemies could assail the property rights of others. + +Outwardly, Sanderson was a smiling optimist. To Mary Bransford he +confided that all was going well. + +Neither had broached the subject of Sanderson's impersonation since the +night of Dale's visit. It was a matter which certain thoughts made +embarrassing for Mary, and Sanderson was satisfied to keep silent. + +But on the day that Williams left the Double A for Lazette, Mary's +curiosity could not be denied. She had conquered that constraint which +had resulted from the revelation of Sanderson's identity, and had asked +him to ride to the top of the gorge, telling him she wanted him to +explain the proposed system of irrigation. + +"It is desperately hard to get any information out of Williams," she +told Sanderson; "he simply won't talk about the work." + +"Meanin' that he'll talk rapid enough about other things, eh?" +Sanderson returned. He looked slyly at Mary. + +"What other things are there for him to talk about?" + +"A man could find a heap of things to talk about--to a woman. He might +talk about himself--or the woman," suggested Sanderson, grinning. + +She gave him a knowing look. "Oh," she said, reddening. "Yes," she +added, smiling faintly, "now that you speak of it, I remember he did +talk quite a little. He is a very interesting man." + +"Good-looking too," said Sanderson; "an' smart. He saw the prospects +of this thing right off." + +"Didn't you see them?" she questioned quickly. + +"Oh, that," he said, flushing. "If the Drifter hadn't told me mebbe I +wouldn't have seen." + +"You have always been around cattle, I suppose?" she asked. + +"Raised with them," smiled Sanderson. + +Thus she directed the conversation to the subject about which she had +wanted to inquire--his past life. Her questions were clever; they were +suggestions to which he could do nothing except to return direct +replies. And she got out of him much of his history, discovering that +he had sound moral views, and a philosophy of which the salient +principle was the scriptural injunction: "Do unto others as ye would +that others should do unto you." + +Upon that principle he had founded his character. His reputation had +grown out of an adamantine adherence to it. Looking at him now she +felt the strength of him, his intense devotion to his ideals; the +earnestness of him. + +Curiously, she had felt those things during the time she had thought of +him as her brother, and had been conscious of the lure of him. It gave +her a queer thrill to stand beside him now, knowing that she had kissed +him; that he had had an opportunity to take advantage of the situation, +and had not done so. + +He had acted the gentleman; he was a gentleman. That was why she was +able to talk with him now. If he had not treated her as he had treated +her his presence at the Double A would have been intolerable. + +There was deep respect for women in Sanderson, she knew. Also, despite +his bold, frank glances--which was merely the manhood of him +challenging her and taking note of her charms--there was a hesitating +bashfulness about the man, as though he was not quite certain of the +impression he was creating in her mind. + +That knowledge pleased Mary; it convinced her of his entire worthiness; +it gave her power over him--and that power thrilled her. + +As her brother, he had been an interesting figure, though his manner +had repelled her. And she had been conscious of a subtle pleasure that +was not all sisterly when she had been near him. She knew, now, that +the sensation had been instinctive, and she wondered if she could have +felt toward her brother as she felt toward this man. + +However, this new situation had removed the diffidence that had +affected her; their relations were less matter of fact and more +romantic, and she felt toward him as any woman feels who knows an +admirer pursues her--breathless with the wonder of it, but holding +aloof, tantalizing, whimsical, and uncertain of herself. + +She looked at him challengingly, mockery in her eyes. + +"So you came here because the Drifter told you there would be +trouble--and a woman. How perfectly delightful!" + +He sensed her mood and responded to it. + +"It's sure delightful. But it ain't unusual. I've always heard that +trouble will be lurkin' around where there's a woman." + +"But you would not say that a woman is not worth the trouble she +causes?" she countered. + +"A man is willin' to take her--trouble an' all," he responded, looking +straight at her. + +"Yes--if he can get her!" she shot back at him. + +"Mostly every woman gets married to a man. I've got as good a chance +as any other man." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because you're talkin' to me about it," he grinned. "If you wasn't +considerin' me you wouldn't argue with me about it; you'd turn me down +cold an' forget it." + +"I suppose when a man is big and romantic-looking----" + +"Oh, shucks, ma'am; you'll be havin' me gettin' a swelled head." + +"He thinks that all he has to do is to look his best." + +"I expect I've looked my worst since I've been here. I ain't had a +chance to do any moonin' at you." + +"I don't like men that 'moon,'" she declared. + +"That's the reason I didn't do it," he said. + +She laughed. "Now, tell me," she asked, "how you got your name, +'Deal.' It had something to do with cards, I suppose?" + +"With weight," he said, looking soberly at her. "When I was born my +dad looked at me sort of nonplussed. I was that big. 'There's a deal +of him,' he told my mother. An' the name stuck. That ain't a lot +mysterious." + +"It was a convenient name to attach the 'Square' to," she said. + +"I've earned it," he said earnestly. "An' I've had a mighty hard time +provin' my right to wear it. There's men that will tempt you out of +pure deviltry, an' others that will try to shoot such a fancy out of +your system. But I didn't wear the 'Square' because I wanted to--folks +hung it onto me without me askin'. That's one reason I left Tombstone; +I'd got tired of posin' as an angel." + +He saw her face grow thoughtful and a haunting expression come into her +eyes. + +"You haven't told me how he looked," she said. + +Sanderson lied. He couldn't tell her of the dissipation he had seen in +her brother's face, nor of the evilness that had been stamped there. +He drew a glowing picture of the man he had buried, and told her that +had he lived her brother would have done her credit. + +But Sanderson suffered no remorse over the lie. For he saw her eyes +glow with pride, and he knew that the picture he had drawn would be the +ideal of her memory for the future. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE TRAIL HERD + +Kent Williams went to Lazette, and Sanderson spent the interval during +his departure and return in visiting the cattlemen and settlers in the +basin. The result of these visits was a sheaf of contracts for water, +the charge based on acreage, that reposed in Sanderson's pockets. +According to the terms of the contracts signed by the residents of the +basin, Sanderson was to furnish water within one year. + +The length of time, Sanderson decided, would tell the story of his +success or failure. If he failed he would lose nothing, because of +having the contracts with the settlers, and if he won the contracts +would be valid. + +Sanderson was determined to win. When after an absence of a week +Williams returned, to announce that he had made arrangements for the +material necessary to make a "regular" start, and that he had hired men +and teams to transport the material, Sanderson's determination became +grim. For Williams told him that he had "gone the limit," which meant +that every cent to Sanderson's credit in the Lazette bank had been +pledged to pay for the material the engineer had ordered. + +"We're going to rush things from now on," Williams told Sanderson. +"Next week we'll need ten thousand dollars, at least." + +Sanderson went into the house and had a long talk with Mary Bransford. +Coming out, he went to the corral, saddled Streak, and rode to Okar. + +Shortly he was sitting at a desk opposite a little man who was the +resident buyer for an eastern live-stock company. + +"The Double A has three thousand head of cattle," Sanderson told the +little man. "They've had good grass and plenty of water. They're fat, +an' are good beef cattle. Thirty-three dollars is the market price. +What will you give for them, delivered to your corral here?" + +The resident buyer looked uncomfortable. "I've had orders not to buy +any more cattle for a time." + +"Whose orders?" demanded Sanderson. + +The resident buyer's face flushed and he looked more uncomfortable. + +"My firm's orders!" he snapped. + +Sanderson laughed grimly; he saw guilt in the resident buyer's eyes. + +"Silverthorn's orders," he said shortly. At the other's emphatic +negative Sanderson laughed again. "Maison's, then. Sure--Maison's," +he added, as the other's flush deepened. + +Sanderson got up. "Don't take it so hard," he advised the resident +buyer. "I ain't goin' to bite you. What I'm wonderin' is, did Maison +give you that order personally, or did you get it from your boss." + +The buyer shifted uneasily in his chair, and did not look at Sanderson. + +"Well," said the latter, "it don't make a heap of difference. +Good-bye," he said, as he went out. "If you get to feelin' mighty +small an' mean you can remember that you're only one of the pack of +coyotes that's makin' this town a disgrace to a dog kennel." + +Sanderson returned to the Double A and found Mary in the house. + +"No go," he informed her. "Maison an' Silverthorn an' Dale have +anticipated that move. We don't sell any cattle in Okar." + +The girl's disappointment was deep. + +"I suppose we may as well give up," she said. + +Sanderson lifted her face to his. + +"If you're goin' to talk that way I ain't goin' to love you like I +thought I was," he grinned. "An' I'm sure wantin' to." + +"I don't want to give up," she said. + +"Meanin'?" + +"Meaning that I'd like to have you beat those men. Oh, the miserable +schemers! They will go to any length to defeat you." + +He laughed lowly and vibrantly. "Well, they'll certainly have to +travel _some_," he said. "About as fast as the man will have to travel +that takes you away from me." + +"Is victory that dear to you?" she asked. + +"I won't take one without the other," he told her his eyes glowing. +"If I don't beat Silverthorn and the others, an' keep the Double A for +you, why I----" + +"You'll win!" she said. + +"You are hopin' I will?" he grinned. "Well," he added, as she averted +her eyes, "there'll come a time when we'll talk real serious about +that. I'm goin' to tell the range boss to get ready for a drive to Las +Vegas." + +"That is a hundred and seventy-five miles!" gasped the girl. + +"I've followed a trail herd two thousand," grinned Sanderson. + +"You mean that you will go yourself--with the outfit?" + +"Sure." + +Sanderson went out, mounted Streak, and found the range boss--Eli +Carter. Carter and the men were ordered to round up all the Double A +cattle and get ready to drive them to Las Vegas. Sanderson told Carter +he would accompany the outfit. + +Cutting across the basin toward the ranchhouse, he saw another horseman +riding fast to intercept him, and he swerved Streak and headed toward +the other. + +The rider was Williams, and when Sanderson got close enough to see his +face he noted that the engineer was pale and excited. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +CHECKED BY THE SYSTEM + +The engineer waved a yellow paper at Sanderson and shouted: + +"I just got this. I made a hit with the Okar agent last week, and he +sent a man over with it. That's a damned scoundrelly bunch that's +working against you! Do you know what they've done?" + +Sanderson said nothing, and the engineer resumed, explosively: + +"They've tied up your money at the Lazette bank! My material men won't +send a pound of stuff to me until they get the cash! We're +stopped--dead still!" + +He passed a telegram to Sanderson, who read: + + +Bank here refuses to honor Sanderson's check. Claim money belongs to +Bransford estate. Legal tangle. Must have cash or won't send material. + +THE BRANDER COMPANY. + + +A flicker of Sanderson's eyelids was all the emotion he betrayed to +Williams. The latter looked at him admiringly. + +"By George," he said, "you take it like a major! In your shoes I'd get +off my nag and claw up the scenery!" + +Sanderson smiled. After telling the engineer to do as much as he could +without the material, he rode on. + +He had betrayed no emotion in the presence of Williams, but he was +seething with passion. + +Late the next afternoon he joined Carter and the outfit. The men had +made good use of their time, and when Sanderson arrived, the entire +herd of cattle was massed on a broad level near the river. They were +milling impatiently, for the round-up had just been completed, and they +were nervous over the unusual activity. + +The cowboys, bronzed, lean, and capable, were guarding the herd, riding +slowly around the fringe of tossing horns, tired, dusty, but singing +their quaint songs. + +Carter had sent the cook back to the ranchhouse during the afternoon to +obtain supplies; and now the chuck wagon, with bulging sides, was +standing near a fire at which the cook himself was preparing supper. + +Carter grinned as Sanderson rode up. + +"All ready!" he declared. "We sure did hump ourselves!" + +Around the camp fire that night Sanderson was moody and taciturn. He +had stretched out on his blanket and lay listening to the men until one +by one they dropped off to sleep. + +Sanderson's thoughts were bitter. He felt the constricting influence +of his enemies; he was like the herd of cattle that his men had rounded +up that day, for little by little Silverthorn, Dale, and Maison were +cutting down his area of freedom and of action, were hampering him on +all sides, and driving him to a point where he would discover +resistance to be practically useless. + +He had thought in the beginning that he could devise some way to escape +the meshes of the net that was being thrown around him, but he was +beginning to realize that he had underestimated the power and the +resources of his enemies. + +Maison and Silverthorn he knew were mere tentacles of the capital they +represented; it was their business to reach out, searching for victims, +in order to draw them in and drain from them the last vestige of wealth. + +And Sanderson had no doubt that they did that work impersonally and +without feeling, not caring, and perhaps not understanding the tortures +of a system--of a soulless organization seeking only financial gain. + +Dale, however, was intensely human and individualistic. He was not as +subtle nor as smooth as his confederates. And money was not the only +incentive which would drive him to commit crime. He was a gross +sensualist, unprincipled and ruthless, and Sanderson's hatred of him +was beginning to overshadow every other consideration. + +Sanderson went to sleep with his bitter thoughts, which were tempered +with a memory of the gentle girl at whom the evil agencies of his +enemies were directed. They were eager to get possession of Mary +Bransford's property, but their real fight would be, and was, against +him. + +But it was Mary Bransford that he was fighting for, and if he could get +the herd of cattle to Las Vegas and dispose of them, he would be +provided with money enough to defeat his enemies. But money he must +have. + +At breakfast the next morning Carter selected the outfit for the drive. +He named half a dozen men, who were variously known as Buck, Andy, Bud, +Soapy, Sogun, and the Kid. These men were experienced trail-herd men, +and Carter had confidence in them. + +Their faces, as they prepared for the trip, revealed their joy and +pride over their selection, while the others, disappointment in their +eyes, plainly envied their fellow-companions. + +But Sanderson lightened their disappointment by entrusting them with a +new responsibility. + +"You fellows go back to the Double A an' hang around," he told them. +"I don't care whether you do a lick of work or not. Stick close to the +house an' keep an eye on Mary Bransford. If Dale, or any of his gang, +come nosin' around, bore them, plenty! If any harm comes to Mary +Bransford while I'm gone, I'll salivate you guys!" + +Shortly after breakfast the herd was on the move. The cowboys started +them westward slowly, for trail cattle do not travel fast, urging them +on with voice and quirt until the line stretched out into a sinuously +weaving band a mile long. + +They reached the edge of the big level after a time, and filed through +a narrow pass that led upward to a table-land. Again, after a time, +they took a descending trail, which brought them down upon a big plain +of grassland that extended many miles in all directions. Fringing the +plain on the north was a range of hills that swept back to the +mountains that guarded the neck of the big basin at Okar. + +There was timber on the hills, and the sky line was ragged with +boulders. And so Sanderson and his men, glancing northward many times +during the morning, did not see a rider who made his way through the +hills. + +During the previous afternoon the rider had sat on his horse in the dim +haze of distance, watching the Double A outfit round up its cattle; and +during the night he had stood on guard, watching the men around the +camp fire. + +He had seen most of the Double A men return toward the ranchhouse after +the trail crew had been selected; he had followed the progress of the +herd during the morning. + +At noon he halted in a screen of timber and grinned felinely. + +"They're off, for certain," he said aloud. + +Late that afternoon the man was in Okar, talking with Dale and +Silverthorn and Maison. + +"What you've been expectin' has happened," he told them. "Sanderson, +Carter, an' six men are on the move with a trail herd. They're headed +straight on for Las Vegas." + +Silverthorn rubbed the palms of his hands together, Maison smirked, and +Dale's eyes glowed with satisfaction. + +Dale got up and looked at the man who had brought the information. + +"All right, Morley," he said with a grin. "Get going; we'll meet up +with Sanderson at Devil's Hole." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A QUESTION OF BRANDS + +Trailing a herd of cattle through a strange wild country is no +sinecure. There was not a man in the Double A outfit who expected an +easy time in trailing the herd to Las Vegas, for it was a rough, grim +country, and the men were experienced. + +Wild cattle are not tractable; they have an irritating habit of +obstinately insisting on finding their own trail, and of persisting in +vagaries that are the despair of their escort. + +The Double A herd was no exception. On a broad level they behaved +fairly well, though always requiring the attention of the men; but in +the broken sections of country through which they passed, +heart-breaking effort was required of the men to keep them headed in +the right direction. + +The men of the outfit had little sleep during the first two days of the +drive. Nights found them hot, tired, and dusty, but with no prospect +of an uninterrupted sleep. Still there was no complaint. + +On the third night, the herd having been driven about forty miles, the +men began to show the effects of their sleepless vigil. + +They had bedded the herd down on a level between some hills, near a +rocky ford over which the waters of a little stream trickled. + +Buck and Andy were on their ponies, slowly circling the herd, singing +to the cattle, talking to them, using all their art and persuasion to +induce the herd to cease the restless "milling" that had begun with the +effort to halt for the night. + +Around the camp fire, which had been built at the cook's orders, were +Sanderson, Carter, Bud, Sogun, Soapy, and the Kid. Carter stood at a +little distance from the fire, watching the herd. + +"That's a damned nervous bunch we've got, boys," he called to the other +men. "I don't know when I've seen a flightier lot. It wouldn't take +much to start 'em!" + +"We'll have our troubles gettin' them through Devil's Hole," declared +Soapy. Soapy, so called because of his aversion to the valuable toilet +preparation so necessary to cleanliness, had a bland, ingenuous face +and perplexed, inquiring eyes. He was a capable man, however, despite +his pet aversion, and there was concern in his voice when he spoke. + +"That's why I wasn't in no hurry to push them too far tonight," +declared Carter. "I don't want to get anywhere near Devil's Hole in +the darkness, an' I want that place quite some miles away when I camp. +I seen a herd stride that quicksand on a run once, an' they wasn't +enough of them left to make a good stew. + +"If my judgment ain't wrong, an' we can keep them steppin' pretty +lively in the mornin', we'll get to Devil's Hole just about noon +tomorrow. Then we can ease them through, an' the rest ain't worth +talkin' about." + +"Devil's Hole is the only trail?" inquired Sanderson. + +Carter nodded. The others confirmed the nod. But Carter's desire for +an early start the next morning was denied. Bud and Sogun were on +guard duty on the morning shift, with the other men at breakfast, when +a dozen horsemen appeared from the morning haze westward and headed +directly for the camp fire. + +"Visitors," announced Soapy, who was first to see the riders. + +The Double A men got to their feet to receive the strangers. Sanderson +stepped out from the group slightly, and the horsemen came to a halt +near him. A big man, plainly the leader of the strangers, dismounted +and approached Sanderson. + +The man radiated authority. There was a belligerent gleam in his eyes +as he looked Sanderson over, an inspection that caused Sanderson's face +to redden, so insolent was it. Behind him the big man's companions +watched, their faces expressionless, their eyes alert. + +"Who's runnin' this outfit?" demanded the man. + +"You're talkin' at the boss," said Sanderson. + +"I'm the sheriff of Colfax County," said the other, shortly. "There's +been a complaint made about you. Bill Lester, of the Bar X, says +you've been pickin' up his cattle, crossin' his range, yesterday." + +This incident had happened before, both to Sanderson and to Carter. +They had insisted on the right of inspection themselves, when strange +herds had been driven through their ranges. + +"We want to look your stock over," said the sheriff. + +The request was reasonable, and Sanderson smiled. + +"That's goin' to hold us up a spell," he returned; "an' we was figurin' +on makin' Devil's Hole before dark. Hop in an' do your inspectin'." + +The big man motioned to his followers and the latter spurred to the +herd, the other being the last to leave the camp fire. + +For two hours the strangers threaded and weaved their horses through +the mass of cattle, while Sanderson and his men, impatient to begin the +morning drive, rode around the outskirts and watched them. + +"They're takin' a mighty good look," commented Carter at the end of the +two hours. + +Sanderson's face was set in a frown; he saw that the men were working +very slowly, and were conferring together longer than seemed necessary. + +At the end of three hours Carter spoke to Sanderson, his voice hoarse +with rage: + +"They're holdin' us up purposely. I'll be damned if I'm goin' to stand +for it!" + +"Easy there!" cautioned Sanderson. "I've never seen a sheriff that was +long on speed. They'll be showin' their hand pretty soon." + +Half an hour later the sheriff spurred his horse out of the press and +approached Sanderson. His face was grave. His men rode up also, and +halted their horses near him. The Double A men had advanced and stood +behind Sanderson and Carter. + +"There's somethin' wrong here!" he declared, scowling at Sanderson. +"It ain't the first time this dodge has been worked. A man gets up a +brand that's mighty like the brand on the range he's goin' to drive +through, an' he picks up cattle an' claims they're his. You claim your +brand is the Double A." He dismounted and with a branch of chaparral +drew a design in the sand. + +"This is the way you make your brand," he said, and he pointed out the +Double A brand: + +[Illustration: Double A and Bar X brands.] + +"That's an 'A' lookin' at it straight up an' from the right side, like +this, just reversin' it. But when you turn it this way, it's the Bar X: + +"An' there's a bunch of your steers with the brand on them that way. +I'll have to take charge of the herd until the thing is cleared up!" + +Sanderson's lips took on a straight line; the color left his face. + +Here was authority--that law with which he had unaccountably clashed on +several occasions during his stay at the Double A. Yet he knew +that--as on those other occasions--the law was operating to the benefit +of his enemies. + +However, he did not now suspect Silverthorn and the others of setting +the law upon him. The Double A men might have been careless with their +branding, and it was unfortunate that he had been forced by the closing +of the Okar market to drive his cattle over a range upon which were +cattle bearing a brand so startlingly similar to his. + +His men were silent, watching him with set faces. He knew they would +stand behind him in any trouble that might occur. And yet he +hesitated, for he did not wish to force trouble. + +"How many Bar X cattle do you think are in the herd?" he asked. + +"Mebbe a hundred--mebbe more." + +"How long will it take you to get Bill Lester here to prove his stock?" + +The big man laughed. "That's a question. Bill left last night for +Frisco; I reckon mebbe he'll be gone a month--mebbe more." + +The color surged back into Sanderson's face. He stiffened. + +"An' you expect to hold my herd here until Lester gets back?" he said, +slowly. + +"Yep," said the other, shortly. + +"You can't do it!" declared Sanderson. "I know the law, an' you can't +hold a man's cattle that long without becomin' liable for damages." + +"We'll be liable," grinned the sheriff. "Before Bill left last night +he made out a bond for ninety thousand dollars--just what your cattle +are worth at the market price. If there's any damages comin' to you +you'll get them out of that." + +"It's a frame-up," growled Carter, at Sanderson's side. "It proves +itself. This guy, Lester, makes out a bond before we're within two +days' drive of his bailiwick. He's had information about us, an' is +plannin' to hold us up. You know what for. Silverthorn an' the bunch +has got a finger in the pie." + +That suspicion had also become a conviction to Sanderson. And yet, in +the person of the sheriff and his men, there was the law blocking his +progress toward the money he needed for the irrigation project. + +"Do you think one hundred and fifty heads will cover the suspected +stock?" he questioned. + +"I'd put it at two hundred," returned the sheriff. + +"All right, then," said Sanderson slowly; "take your men an' cut out +the two hundred you think belong to Lester. I'll stop on the way back +an' have it out with you." + +The sheriff grinned. "That'll be square enough," he agreed. He turned +to the men who had come with him. "You boys cut out them cattle that +we looked at, an' head them toward the Bar X." When the men had gone +he turned to Sanderson. + +"I want you men to know that I'm actin' under orders. I don't know +what's eatin' Bill Lester--that ain't my business. But when I'm +ordered to do anything in my line of duty, why, it's got to be done. +Your friend has gassed some about a man named Silverthorn bein' at the +bottom of this thing. Mebbe he is--I ain't got no means of knowin'. +It appears to me that Bill ain't got no call to hog your whole bunch, +though, for I've never knowed Bill to raise more than fifteen hundred +head of cattle in one season. I'm takin' a chance on two hundred +coverin' his claims." + +It was after noon when the sheriff and his men started westward with +the suspected stock. + +Carter, fuming with rage, watched them go. Then he turned to Sanderson. + +"Hell an' damnation! We'll hit Devil's Hole about dusk--if we start +now. What'll we do?" + +"Start," said Sanderson. "If we hang around here for another day +they'll trump up another fake charge an' clean us out!" + +The country through which they were forced to travel during the +afternoon was broken and rugged, and the progress of the herd was slow. +However, according to Carter, they made good time considering the +drawbacks they encountered, and late afternoon found them within a few +miles of the dreaded Devil's Hole. + +Carter counseled a halt until morning, and Sanderson yielded. After a +camping ground had been selected Carter and Sanderson rode ahead to +inspect Devil's Hole. + +The place was well named. It was a natural basin between some jagged +and impassable foothills, running between a gorge at each end. Both +ends of the basin constricted sharply at the gorges, resembling a wide, +narrow-necked bottle. + +A thin stream of water flowed on each side of a hard, rock trail that +ran straight through the center of the basin, and on both sides of the +trail a black bog of quicksand spread, covering the entire surface of +the land. + +Halfway through the basin, Sanderson halted Streak on the narrow trail +and looked at the treacherous sand. + +"I've seen quicksand, _an'_ quicksand," he declared, "but this is the +bogs of the lot. If any steers get bogged down in there they wouldn't +be able to bellow more than once before they'd sink out of sight!" + +"There's a heap of them in there," remarked Carter. + +It was an eery place, and the echo of their voices resounded with +ever-increasing faintness. + +"I never go through this damned hell-hole without gettin' the creeps," +declared Carter. "An' I've got nerve enough, too, usually. There's +somethin' about the place that suggests the cattle an' men it's +swallowed. + +"Do you see that flat section there?" he indicated a spot about a +hundred yards wide and half as long, which looked like hard, baked +earth, black and dead. "That's where that herd I was tellin' you about +went in. The next morning you couldn't see hide nor hair of them. + +"It's a fooler for distance, too," he went on, "it's more than a mile +to that little spot of rock, that projectin' up, over there. College +professors have been here, lookin' at it, an' they say the thing is fed +from underground rivers, or springs, or somethin' that they can't even +guess. + +"One of them was tellin' Boss Edwards, over on the Cimarron, that that +rock point that you see projectin' up was the peak of a mountain, an' +that this narrow trail we're on is the back of a ridge that used to +stick up high an' mighty above a lot of other things. + +"I can't make it out, an' I don't try; it's here, an' that's all there +is to it. An' I ain't hangin' around it any longer than I have to." + +"A stampede--" began Sanderson. + +"Gentlemen, shut up!" interrupted Carter. "If any cattle ever come +through here, stampedin', that herd wouldn't have enough left of it to +supply a road runner's breakfast!" + +They returned to the camp, silent and anxious. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +DEVIL'S HOLE + +Sanderson took his turn standing watch with the other men. The boss of +a trail herd cannot be a shirker, and Sanderson did his full share of +the work. + +Tonight he had the midnight shift. At two o'clock he would ride back +to camp, awaken his successor, and turn in to sleep until morning. + +Because of the proximity of the herd to Devil's Hole an extra man had +been told off for the nightwatch, and Soapy and the Kid were doing duty +with Sanderson. + +Riding in a big circle, his horse walking, Sanderson could see the +dying embers of the camp fire glowing like a big firefly in the +distance. A line of trees fringing the banks of the river near the +camp made a dark background for the tiny, leaping sparks that were shot +up out of the fire, and the branches waving in the hazy light from +countless coldly glittering stars were weird and foreboding. + +Across the river the ragged edges of the rock buttes that flanked the +water loomed somberly; beyond them the peaks of some mountains, miles +distant, glowed with the subdued radiance of a moon that was just +rising. + +Back in the direction from which the herd had come the ridges and +depressions stretched, in irregular corrugations, as far as Sanderson +could see. Southward were more mountains, dark and mysterious. + +Riding his monotonous circles, Sanderson looked at his watch, his face +close to it, for the light from the star-haze was very dim. He was on +the far side of the herd, toward Devil's Hole, and he was chanting the +refrain from a simple cowboy song as he looked at the watch. + +The hands of the timepiece pointed to "one." Thus he still had an hour +to stand watch before awakening the nest man. He placed the watch is a +pocket, shook the reins over Streak's neck and spoke to him. + +"Seems like old times to be ridin' night-watch, eh, Streak?" he said. + +The words had hardly escaped his lips when there arose a commotion from +the edge of the herd nearest the corrugated land that lay between the +herd and the trail back to the Double A. + +On a ridge near the cattle a huge, black, grotesque shape was clearly +outlined. It was waving to and fro, as though it were some +giant-winged monster of the night trying to rise from the earth. +Sanderson could hear the flapping noise it made; it carried to him with +the sharp resonance of a pistol shot. + +"Damnation!" he heard himself say. "Some damned fool is wavin' a tarp!" + +He jerked Streak up shortly, intending to ride for the point where the +tarpaulin was being waved before it was too late. But as he wheeled +Streak he realized that the havoc had been wrought, for the cattle +nearest him were on their feet, snorting with fright--a sensation that +had been communicated to them by contact with their fellows in the mass. + +At the point where the commotion had occurred was confusion. Sanderson +saw steers rising on their hind legs, throwing their forelegs high in +the air; they were bellowing their fright and charging against the +steers nearest them, frenziedly trying to escape the danger that seemed +to menace them. + +Sanderson groaned, for the entire herd was on the move! Near at hand a +dozen steers shot out of the press and lumbered past him, paying no +attention to his shouts. He fired his pistol in the face of one, and +though the animal tried to turn back, frightened by the flash, the +press of numbers behind it, already moving forward, forced it again to +wheel and break for freedom. + +Sanderson heard the sounds of pistol shots from the direction of the +camp fire; he heard other shots from the direction of the back trail; +he saw the forms of men on horses darting here and there on the +opposite side of the herd from where he rode. + +From the left side of the herd came another rider--Soapy. He tore +ahead of the vanguard of running steers, shooting his pistol in their +faces, shouting profanely at them, lashing them with his quirt. + +A first batch slipped by him. He spurred his horse close to +Sanderson--who was trying to head off still others of the herd that +were determined to follow the first--and cursed loudly: + +"Who in hell waved that tarp?" + +Sanderson had no time to answer. A score of steers bolted straight for +him, and he groaned again when he saw that the whole herd was rushing +forward in a mass. A common impulse moved them; they were frenzied +with fright and terror. + +It was not the first stampede that Sanderson had been in, and he knew +its dangers. Yet he grimly fought with the cattle, Streak leaping here +and there in answer to the knee-pressure of his master, horse and rider +looking like knight and steed of some fabled romance, embattled with a +huge monster with thousands of legs. + +Sanderson caught a glimpse of several riders tearing toward him from +the direction of the camp, and he knew that Carter and the others were +trying to reach him in the hope of being able to stem the torrent of +rushing cattle. + +But the movement had already gone too far, and the speed of the +frenzied steers was equal to the best running that Streak could do. + +Sanderson saw that all effort to stop them would be hopeless, and aware +of the danger of remaining at the head of the flying mass, he veered +Streak off, heading him toward the side, out of the press. + +As he rode he caught a glimpse of Soapy. The latter had the same +notion that was in Sanderson's mind, for he was leaning over his pony's +mane, riding hard to get out of the path taken by the herd. + +Sanderson pulled Streak up slightly, watching Soapy until he was +certain the latter would reach the edge, then he gave Streak the reins +again. + +The pause, though, robbed Sanderson of his chance to escape. He had +been cutting across the head of the herd at a long angle when watching +Soapy, and had been traveling with the cattle also; and now he saw that +the big level was behind him, that he and the cattle were in an +ever-narrowing valley which led directly into the neck of Devil's Hole. + +Sanderson now gave up all hope of reaching the side, and devoted his +attention to straight, hard riding. There were a few steers ahead of +him, and he had a faint hope that if he could get ahead of them he +might be able to direct their course through Devil's Hole and thus +avert the calamity that threatened. + +Grimly, silently, riding as he had never ridden before, he urged Streak +forward. One by one he passed the steers in his path, and just before +he reached the entrance to Devil's Hole he passed the foremost steer. + +Glancing back as Streak thundered through the neck of the Hole, +Sanderson saw Soapy coming, not more than a hundred yards behind. +Soapy had succeeded in getting clear of the great body of steers, but +there were a few still running ahead of him, and he was riding +desperately to pass them. + +Just as Sanderson looked back he saw Soapy's horse stumble. He +recovered, ran a few steps and stumbled again. This time he went to +one knee. He tried desperately to rise, fell again, and went down, +neighing shrilly in terror. + +Sanderson groaned and tried to pull Streak up. But the animal refused +to heed the pull on the reins and plunged forward, unheeding. + +There would have been no opportunity to save Soapy, even if Streak had +obeyed his master. The first few steers at the head of the mass +swerved around the fallen man and his horse, for they could see him. + +The thousands behind, though, running blindly, in the grip of the +nameless terror that had seized them, saw nothing, heeded nothing, and +they swept, in a smother of dust, straight over the spot where Soapy +and his horse had been. + +White-lipped, catching his breath in gasps over the horror, Sanderson +again turned his back to the herd and raced on. The same accident +might happen to him, but there was no time to pick and choose his trail. + +Behind him, with the thundering noise of a devastating avalanche, the +herd came as though nothing had happened. The late moon that had been +touching the peaks of the far mountains now lifted a rim over them, +flooding the world with a soft radiance. Sanderson had reached the +center of the trail, through Devil's Hole, before he again looked back. + +What he saw caused him to pull Streak up with a jerk. The head of the +herd had burst through the entrance to the Hole, and, opening fanlike, +had gone headlong into the quicksand. + +Fascinated with the magnitude of the catastrophe, Sanderson paid no +attention to the few steers that went past him, snorting wildly; he sat +rigid on his horse and watched the destruction of the herd. + +A great mass of steers had gone into the quicksand at the very edge of +the Hole; they formed a foothold for many others that, forced on by the +impetus of the entire mass, crushed them down, trampled them further +into the sand, and plunged ahead to their own destruction. + +It was a continually recurring incident. Maddened, senseless, +unreasoning in their panic, the mass behind came on, a sea of tossing +horns, a maelstrom of swirling, blinding dust and heaving bodies into +the mire; the struggling, enmeshed bodies of the vanguard forming a +living floor, over which each newcomer swept to oblivion. + +Feeling his utter helplessness, Sanderson continued to watch. There +was nothing he could do; he was like a mere atom of sand on a seashore, +with the storm waves beating over him. + +The scene continued a little longer. Sanderson saw none of the men of +the outfit. The dust died down, settling like a pall over the neck of +the Hole. A few steers, chancing to come straight ahead through the +neck of the Hole, and thus striking the hard, narrow trail that ran +through the center, continued to pass Sanderson. They were still in +the grip of a frenzy; and at the far end of the Hole he saw a number of +them bogged down. They had not learned the lesson of the first +entrance. + +At length it seemed to be over. Sanderson saw one steer, evidently +with some conception of the calamity penetrating its consciousness, +standing near him on the trail, moving its head from side to side and +snorting as it looked at its unfortunate fellows. The animal seemed to +be unaware of Sanderson's presence until Streak moved uneasily. + +Then the steer turned to Sanderson, its red eyes ablaze. As though it +blamed him for the catastrophe, it charged him. Sanderson drew his +pistol and shot it, with Streak rearing and plunging. + +Roars of terror and bellows of despair assailed Sanderson's ears from +all directions. Groans, almost human, came from the mired mass on both +sides of the trail. Hundreds of the cattle had already sunk from +sight, hundreds were sucked partly down, and other hundreds--thousands, +it seemed--were struggling in plain view, with only portions of their +bodies under. + +Still others--the last to pour through the throat of the gorge--were +clambering out, using the sinking bodies of others to assist them; +Sanderson could see a few more choking the far end of the Hole. + +How many had escaped he did not know, nor care. The dramatic finish of +Soapy was vivid, and concern for the other members of the outfit was +uppermost in his mind. + +He rode the back trail slowly. The destruction of his herd had not +occupied ten minutes, it seemed. Dazed with the suddenness of it, and +with a knowledge of what portended, he came to the spot where Soapy's +horse had stumbled and looked upon what was left of the man. His face +dead white, his hands trembling, he spread his blanket over the spot. +He had formed an affection for Soapy. + +Mounting Streak, he resumed his ride toward the camp. A dead silence +filled the wide level from which the stampede had started--a silence +except for the faint bellowing that still reached his ears from the +direction of the Hole. + +Half a mile from where he had found the pitiable remnants of Soapy he +came upon Carter. The range boss was lying prone on his back, his body +apparently unmarred. His horse was standing near him, grazing. Carter +had not been in the path of the herd. + +What, then, had happened to him? + +Sanderson dismounted and went to his knees beside the man. At first he +could see no sign of anything that might have caused death--for Carter +was undoubtedly dead--and already stiffening! Then he saw a red patch +staining the man's shirt, and he examined it. Carter had been shot. +Sanderson stood up and looked around. There was no one in sight. He +mounted Streak and began to ride toward the camp, for he felt that +Carter's death had resulted from an accident. One explanation was that +a stray bullet had killed Carter--in the excitement of a stampede the +men were apt to shoot wildly at refractory steers. + +But the theory of accident did not abide. Halfway between Carter and +the camp Sanderson came upon Bud. Bud was lying in a huddled heap. He +had been shot from behind. Later, continuing his ride to camp, +Sanderson came upon the other men. + +He found the Kid and the cook near the chuck wagon, Sogun and Andy were +lying near the fire, whose last faint embers were sputtering feebly; +Buck was some distance away, but he, too, was dead! + +Sanderson went from one to the other of the men, to make a final +examination. Bending over Sogun, he heard the latter groan, and in an +instant Sanderson was racing to the river for water. + +He bathed Sogun's wound--which was low on the left side, under the +heart, and, after working over him for five or ten minutes, giving him +whisky from a flask he found in the chuck wagon, and talking to the man +in an effort to force him into consciousness, he was rewarded by seeing +Sogun open his eyes. + +Sogun looked perplexedly at Sanderson, whose face was close. + +There was recognition in Sogun's eyes--the calm of reason was swimming +in them. + +He half smiled. "So you wriggled out of it, boss, eh? It was a +clean-up, for sure. I seen them get the other boys. I emptied my gun, +an' was fillin' her again when they got me." + +"Who?" demanded Sanderson sharply. + +"Dale an' his gang. They was a bunch of them--twenty, mebbe. I heard +them while I was layin' here. They thought they'd croaked me, an' they +wasn't botherin' with me. + +"One of them waved a blanket--or a tarp. I couldn't get what it was. +Anyway, they waved somethin' an' got the herd started. I heard them +talkin' about seein' Soapy go under, right at the start. An' you. +Dale said he saw you go down, an' it wasn't no use to look for you. +They sure played hell, boss." + +Sanderson did not answer. + +"If you'd lift my head a little higher, boss, I'd feel easier, mebbe," +Sogun smiled feebly. "An' if it ain't too much trouble I'd like a +little more of that water--I'm powerful thirsty." + +Sanderson went to the river, and when he returned Sogun was stretched +out on his back, his face upturned with a faint smile upon it. + +Sanderson knelt beside him, lifted his head and spoke to him. But +Sogun did not answer. + +Sanderson rose and stood with bowed head for a long time, looking down +at Sogun. Then he mounted Streak and headed him into the moonlit space +that lay between the camp and the Double A ranchhouse. + +It was noon the next day when Sanderson returned with a dozen Double A +men. After they had labored for two hours the men mounted their horses +and began the return trip, one of them driving the chuck wagon. + +All of the men were bitter against Dale for what had happened, and +several of them were for instant reprisal. + +But Sanderson stared grimly at them. + +"There ain't any witnesses," he said, "not a damned one! My word don't +go in Okar. Besides, it's my game, an' I'm goin' to play her a lone +hand--as far as Dale is concerned." + +"You goin' to round up what's left of the cattle?" asked a puncher. + +Sanderson answered shortly: "Not any. There wasn't enough left to make +a fuss about, an' Dale can have them." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A MAN BORROWS MONEY + +The incident of Devil's Hole had changed the character of the fighting +between Sanderson and Dale. Dale and his fellow-conspirators had +deserted that law upon which, until the incident of Devil's Hole, they +had depended. They had resorted to savagery, to murder; they had +committed themselves to a course that left Sanderson no choice except +to imitate them. + +And Sanderson was willing. More, he was anxious. He had respected the +law; and still respected it. But he had never respected the law +represented by his three enemies. He was determined to avenge the +murder of his men, but in his own time and in his own way. + +His soul was in the grip of a mighty rage against Dale and the others; +he longed to come into personal contact with them--to feel them writhe +and squirm in his clutch. And had he been the free agent he had always +been until his coming to the Double A he would have gone straight to +Okar, thus yielding to the blood lust that swelled his veins. + +But he could not permit his inclinations to ruin the girl he had +promised to protect. He could kill Dale, Silverthorn, and Maison quite +easily. But he would have no defense for the deed, and the law would +force him to desert Mary Bransford. + +For an entire day following the return of himself and his men from the +scene of the stampede Sanderson fought a terrific mental battle. He +said nothing to Mary Bransford, after giving her the few bare facts +that described the destruction of the herd. But the girl watched him +anxiously, suspecting something of the grim thoughts that tortured him, +and at dinner she spoke to him. + +"Deal," she said, "don't be rash. Those men have done a lawless thing, +but they still have the power to invoke the law against you." + +"I ain't goin' to be lawless--yet," he grinned. + +But Sanderson was yielding to an impulse that had assailed him. His +manner betrayed him to Owen, at least, who spoke to Mary about it. + +"He's framing up something--or he's got it framed up and is ready to +act," he told the girl. "He has got that calm during the past few +hours that I feel like I'm in the presence of an iceberg when I'm near +him." + +Whatever was on Sanderson's mind he kept to himself. But late that +night, when the ranchhouse was dark, and a look through one of the +windows of the bunkhouse showed Sanderson there were only two men +awake--and they playing cards sleepily--he threw saddle and bridle on +Streak and rode away into the inky darkness of the basin. + + +Shortly after dusk on the same night Silverthorn, Dale, and Maison were +sitting at a table in Maison's private office in the bank building. +They, too, were playing cards. + +But their thoughts were not on the cards. Elation filled their hearts. + +Dale was dealing, but it was plain that he took no interest in the +game. At last, with a gesture of disgust, he threw the cards face up +on the table and smiled at the others. + +"What's the use?" he said. "I keep thinking of what happened at +Devil's Hole. We ought to have been sure that we finished the job, an' +we would have been sure if we hadn't known that that damned Colfax +sheriff was hanging around somewhere. + +"He took two hundred head from Sanderson--when he ought to have taken +the whole damn herd--which he'd orders to do. And then, instead of +driving them direct to Lester's he made camp just on the other side of +Devil's Hole--three or four miles, Morley said. I don't know what for, +except that maybe he's decided to give Sanderson the steers he'd taken +from him--the damned fool! You've got to break him, Maison, for +disobeying orders!" + +"I'll attend to him," said Maison. + +"That's the reason we didn't go through Devil's Hole to see what had +become of Sanderson," resumed Dale. "We was afraid of running into the +sheriff, and him, being the kind of a fool he is, would likely have +wanted to know what had happened. I thought it better to sneak off +without letting him see us than to do any explaining." + +Silverthorn looked at his watch. "Morley and the others ought to be +here pretty soon," he said. + +"They're late as it is," grumbled Dale. "I ought to have gone myself." + +They resumed their card-playing. An hour or so later there came a +knock on the door of the bank--a back door--and Dale opened it to admit +Morley--the big man who had drawn a pistol on Sanderson when he had +tried to take Barney Owen out of the City Hotel barroom. + +Morley was alone. He stepped inside without invitation and grinned at +the others. + +"There's no sign of Sanderson. Someone had been there an' planted the +guys we salivated--an' the guy which went down in the run. We seen his +horse layin' there, cut to ribbons. It's likely Sanderson went into +the sand ahead of the herd--they was crowdin' him pretty close when we +seen them runnin'." + +"You say them guys was planted?" said Dale. "Then Sanderson got out of +it. He would--if anyone could, for he was riding like a devil on a +cyclone when I saw him. He's got back, and took his men to Devil's +Hole." + +Maison laughed. "We'll say he got out of it. What of it? He's broke. +And if the damned court would get a move on with that evidence we've +sent over to prove that he isn't a Bransford, we'd have the Double A +inside of a week!" + +Dale got up, grinning and looking at his watch. + +"Well, gentlemen, I'm hitting the breeze to the Bar D for some sleep. +See you tomorrow." + +Dale went out and mounted his horse. But he did not go straight home, +as he had declared he would. After striking the neck of the basin he +swerved his horse and rode northeastward toward Ben Nyland's cabin. + +For he had heard that day in Okar that Ben Nyland had taken a train +eastward that morning, to return on the afternoon of the day following. +And during the time Dale had been talking with Maison; and Silverthorn, +and playing cards with them, he thought often of Peggy Nyland. + +Silverthorn and Morley did not remain long in Maison's private room in +the bank building. + +Morley had promised to play cards with some of his men in the City +Hotel barroom, and he joined them there, while Silverthorn went to his +rooms in the upper story of the station. + +After the departure of the others, Maison sat for a long time at the +table in the private room, making figures on paper. + +Maison had exacted from the world all the luxuries he thought his +pampered body desired. His financial career would not have borne +investigation, but Maison's operations had been so smooth and subtle +that he had left no point at which an enemy could begin an +investigation. + +But years of questionable practice had had an inevitable effect upon +Maison. Outwardly, he had hardened, but only Maison knew of the many +devils his conscience created for him. + +Continued communion with the devils of conscience had made a coward of +Maison. When at last he got up from the table he glanced +apprehensively around the room; and after he had put out the light and +climbed the stairs to his rooms above the bank, he was trembling. + +Maison had often dealt crookedly with his fellow-men, but never, until +the incident of Devil's Hole, had he deliberately planned murder. Thus +tonight Maison's conscience had more ghastly evidence to confront him +with, and conscience is a pitiless retributive agent. + +Maison poured himself a generous drink of whisky from a bottle on a +sideboard before he got into bed, but the story told him by Dale and +the others of the terrible scene at Devil's Hole--remained so staringly +vivid in his thoughts that whisky could not dim it. + +He groaned and pulled the covers over his head, squirming and twisting, +for the night was warm and there was little air stirring. + +After a while Maison sat up. It seemed to him that he had been in bed +for an age, though actually the time was not longer than an hour. + +It had been late when he had left the room downstairs. And now he +listened for sounds that would tell him that Okar's citizens were still +busy with their pleasures. + +But no sound came from the street. Maison yearned for company, for he +felt unaccountably depressed and morbid. It was as though some danger +impended and instinct was warning him of it. + +But in the dead silence of Okar there was no suggestion of sound. It +must have been in the ghostly hours between midnight and the +dawn--though a cold terror that had gripped Maison would not let him +get up to look at the clock that ticked monotonously on the sideboard. + +He lay, clammy with sweat, every sense strained and acute, listening. +For, from continued contemplation of imaginary dangers he had worked +himself into a frenzy which would have turned into a conviction of real +danger at the slightest sound near him. + +He expected sound to come; he waited for it, his ears attuned, his +senses alert. + +And at last sound came. + +It was a mere creak--such a sound as a foot might make on a stairway. +And it seemed to have come from the stairs leading to Maison's rooms. + +He did not hear it again, though, and he might have fought off the new +terror that was gripping him, if at that instant he had not remembered +that when leaving the lower room he had forgotten to lock the rear +door--the door through which Morley had entered earlier in the evening; +the door through which Silverthorn had departed. + +He had not locked that door, and that noise on the stairs might have +been made by some night prowler. + +Aroused to desperation by his fears he started to get out of bed with +the intention of getting the revolver that lay in a drawer in the +sideboard. + +His feet were on the floor as he sat on the edge of the bed preparatory +to standing, when he saw the door at the head of the stairs slowly +swing open and a figure of a man appear in the opening. + +The light in the room was faint--a mere luminous star-mist--hut Maison +could see clearly the man's face. He stiffened, his hands gripping the +bedclothing, as he muttered hoarsely: + +"Sanderson!" + +Sanderson stepped into the room and closed the door. The heavy +six-shooter in his hand was at his hip, the long barrel horizontal, the +big muzzle gaping forebodingly into Maison's face. There was a cold, +mirthless grin on Sanderson's face, but it seemed to Maison that the +grin was the wanton expression of murder lust. + +He knew, without Sanderson telling him, that if he moved, or made the +slightest outcry, Sanderson would kill him. + +Therefore he made neither move nor sound, but sat there, rigid and +gasping for breath, awaiting the other's pleasure. + +Sanderson came close to him, speaking in a vibrant whisper: + +"Anyone in the house with you? If you speak above a whisper I'll blow +you apart!" + +"I'm alone!" gasped Maison. + +Sanderson laughed lowly. "You must have known I was comin'. Did you +expect me? Well--" when Maison did not answer--"you left the rear door +open. Obliged to you. + +"You know what I came for? No?" His voice was still low and vibrant. +"I came to talk over what happened at Devil's Hole." + +Maison's eyes bulged with horror. + +"I see you know about it, all right. I'm glad of that. Seven men +murdered; three thousand head of cattle gone. Mebbe they didn't all go +into the quicksand--I don't know. What I do know is this: they've got +to be paid for--men an' cattle. Understand? Cattle an' men." + +The cold emphasis he laid on the "and" made a shiver run over the +banker. + +"Money will pay for cattle," went on Sanderson. "I'll collect a man +for every man you killed at Devil's Hole." + +He laughed in feline humor when Maison squirmed at the words. + +"You think your life is more valuable than the life of any one of the +men you killed at Devil's Hole, eh? Soapy was worth a hundred like +you! An' Sogun--an' all the rest! Understand? They were real men, +doin' some good in the world. I'm tellin' you this so you'll know that +I don't think you amount to a hell of a lot, an' that I wouldn't suffer +a heap with remorse if you'd open your trap for one little peep an' I'd +have to blow your guts out!" + +A devil of conscience had finally visited Maison--a devil in the flesh. +For all the violent passions were aflame in Sanderson's face, repressed +but needing only provocation to loose them. + +Maison knew what impended. But he succeeded in speaking, though the +words caught, stranglingly, in his throat: + +"W-what do you--want?" + +"Ninety thousand dollars. The market price for three thousand head of +cattle." + +"There isn't that much in the vaults!" protested Maison in a gasping +whisper. "We never keep that amount of money on hand." + +He would have said more, but he saw Sanderson's grin become bitter; saw +the arm holding the six-shooter stiffen suggestively. + +Maison raised his hands in horror. + +"Wait!" he said, pleadingly. "I'll see. Good God, man, keep the +muzzle of that gun away!" + +"Ninety thousand will do it," Sanderson grimly told him, "ninety +thousand. No less. You can ask that God you call on so reckless to +have ninety thousand in the vault when you go to look for it, right +away. + +"Get up an' dress!" he commanded. + +He stood silently watching the banker as the latter got into his +clothing. Then, with a wave of his gun in the direction of the stairs +he ordered Maison to precede him. He kept close to the banker in the +darkness of the rooms through which they passed, and finally when they +reached the little room into which opened the big doors of the +vault--embedded in solid masonry--Sanderson again spoke: + +"I want it in bills of large denomination." The banker was on his +knees before the doors, working at the combination, and he looked +around in silent objection at Sanderson's voice. + +"Big ones, I said," repeated the latter. "You've got them. I was in +Silverthorn's rooms some hours ago, lookin' over his books an' things. +I saw a note there, showin' that he'd deposited fifty thousand here the +day before yesterday. The note said it was cash. You'll have forty +thousand more. If you ain't got it you'll wish you had." + +Maison had it. He drew it out in packages--saffron-hued notes that he +passed back to Sanderson reluctantly. When he had passed back the +exact amount he looked around. + +Sanderson ordered him to close the doors, and with the banker preceding +him they returned to the upper room, where Sanderson distributed the +money over his person securely, the banker watching him. + +When Sanderson had finished, he again spoke. There was elation in his +eyes, but they still were aflame with the threat of death and violence. + +"Who's the biggest an' most honest man in town?" he said, "the one man +that the folks here always think of when they're in trouble an' want a +square deal? Every town always has such a man. Who is he?" + +"Judge Graney," said Maison. + +"All right," declared Sanderson. "We'll go see Judge Graney. You're +goin' to lead me to the place where he lives. We're goin' to have him +witness that you've paid me ninety thousand dollars for the stock you +destroyed--my cattle. He's goin' to be all the law I'm goin' to depend +on--in this case. After a while--if you sneaks go too strong--I'll let +loose a little of my own law--the kind I've showed you tonight. + +"You're goin' to Judge Graney's place, an' you're goin' to sign a paper +showin' you paid me the money for my cattle. You ain't goin' to make +any noise on the way, or to Judge Graney. You're goin' to do the +talkin' an' tell Graney that you want him to witness the deal. An' +you're goin' to do it without him gettin' wise that I'm forcin' you. +You'll have to do some actin', an' if you fall down on this job you'll +never have to act again! Get goin'!" + +Maison was careful not to make any noise as he went down the stairs; he +was equally careful when he reached the street. + +In a short time, Sanderson walking close behind him, he halted at a +door of a private dwelling. He knocked on the door, and a short, squat +man appeared in the opening, holding a kerosene lamp in one hand and a +six-shooter in the other. + +He recognized Maison instantly and politely asked him and his visitor +inside. There Maison stated his business, and the judge, though +revealing some surprise that so big a transaction should be concluded +at so uncommon an hour, attested the paper made out by Maison, and +signed the receipt for ninety thousand dollars written by Sanderson and +given to the banker. Then, still followed by Sanderson, the banker +went out. + +There was no word spoken by either of the men until they again reached +the bank building. Then it was Sanderson who spoke. + +"That's all, Maison," he said. "Talk, if you must--mebbe it'll keep +you from explodin'. But if there's any more meddlin' with my +affairs--by you--I'm comin' for you again. An' the next time it'll be +to make you pay for my men!" + +He slipped behind the bank building and was gone. A little later, +still standing where Sanderson had left him, he saw the Double A man +riding swiftly across country toward the neck of the basin. + +Maison went slowly upstairs, lighted a lamp, and looked at his +reflection in a glass. He sighed, blew out the light, got into bed and +stretched out in relief, feeling that he had got out of the affair +cheaply enough, considering all things. + +And remembering what Sanderson had told him about returning, he +determined that if Judge Graney said nothing of the occurrence he would +never mention it. For he did not want Sanderson to pay him another +visit. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A MAN FROM THE ABYSS + +At about the time Sanderson was entering Okar, Alva Dale was letting +himself into the door of his office at the Bar D ranchhouse. Dale's +thoughts, because of the sensuous longing with which he had always +looked upon Peggy Nyland, had become abysmal. Silverthorn had warned +him that the dragging of a woman into the plot would be fatal to their +aims, but Dale had paid no heed to Silverthorn. During the day he had +kept thinking of the girl until now he could no longer restrain +himself. His face was bestial with passion as he entered his office. + +Inside the office he lighted a lamp and seated himself at his desk. +There, with a pair of shears and a piece of black cloth, he fashioned a +mask. He donned the mask and peered at himself in a mirror, grinning +with satisfaction over the reflection. Had he not known himself for +Alva Dale he would have been fooled by the covering. + +Working swiftly, he changed his clothes. Then, after again looking at +his reflection, he put out the light, stepped outside, locked the door, +and mounted his horse. + +Riding a ridge above a shallow arroyo he came upon a little level near +a grove of cottonwood trees. He circled one side of the grove, and in +a clearing he saw the Nyland cabin. + +He had visited the cabin before, but never had he felt about it as he +felt at this moment. There had always been the presence of Ben Nyland +to dampen the romantic thoughts that had beset him--for there had been +a time when--if Peggy Nyland had been willing--he would have married +her. + +That time had passed. Dale grinned wickedly as he dismounted and +walked forward. + +There was no light showing in any of the windows, and Dale stepped +stealthily to the rear door and knocked. + +There was no answer; and Dale repeated the blows. Then he grinned With +delight as he heard Peggy's voice, high-pitched and startled, saying: + +"Who's there?" + +"It's me--Sanderson," he returned. "I've come for you!" + +"What for?" This time there was alarm in the girl's voice, and Dale +heard her walk across the floor and halt at the door. He mentally +visualized her, standing there, one ear against the panel. + +"Didn't they tell you?" he said in a hoarse voice, into which he +succeeded in getting much pretended anger. "Why, I sent a man over +here with word." + +"Word about what?" + +Dale heard the girl fumbling at the fastenings of the door, and he knew +that his imitation of Sanderson's voice had deceived her. + +"Word that Ben was hurt," he lied. "The east train hit him as it was +pullin' in. He's bad off, but the doc says he'll come around if he +gets good nursin', an' that's why I've come----" + +While he was talking the door burst open and Peggy appeared in the +opening, her eyes wide with concern and eagerness. + +She had heard Dale's first knock on the door, and knowing it was +someone for her--perhaps Ben returning--she had begun to dress, +finishing--except for her shoes and stockings--by the time she opened +the door. + +In the dim light she did not at first see the mask on Dale's face, and +she was insistently demanding to be told just where Ben's injuries +were, when she detected the fraud. + +Then she gasped and stepped back, trying to close the door. She would +have succeeded had not Dale thrust a foot into the aperture. + +She stamped at his foot with her bare one ineffectually. Dale laughed +at her futile efforts to keep him from opening the door. He struck an +arm through the aperture, leaned his weight against the door, and +pushed it open. + +She was at the other side of the room when he entered, having dodged +behind a table. He made a rush for her, but she evaded him, keeping +the table between them. + +There was no word said. The girl's breath was coming in great gasps +from the fright and shock she had received, but Dale's was shrill and +laboring from the strength of his passions. + +Reason left him as they circled around the table, and with a curse he +overturned it so that it rolled and crashed out of the way, leaving her +with no obstacle behind which to find shelter. + +She ran toward the door, but Dale caught her at the threshold. She +twisted and squirmed in his grasp, scratching him and clawing at his +face in an access of terror, and one hand finally caught the black mask +covering and tore it from his face. + +"Alva Dale!" she shrieked. "Oh, you beast!" + +Fighting with redoubled fury she forced him against one of the door +jambs, still scratching and clawing. Dale grasped one hand, but the +free one reached his face, the fingers sinking into the flesh and +making a deep gash in his cheek. + +The pain made a demon of Dale, and he struck her. She fell, +soundlessly, her head striking the edge of a chair with a deadening, +thudding crash. + +Standing in the doorway looking down at her, the faint, outdoor light +shining on her face and revealing its ghastly whiteness, Dale suffered +a quick reaction. He had not meant to strike so hard, he told himself; +he hoped he had not killed her. + +Kneeling beside her he felt her pulse and her head. The flesh under +his hand was cold as marble; the pulse--if there was any--was not +perceptible. Dale examined the back of her head, where it had struck +the chair. He got up, his face ashen and convulsed with horror. + +"Good Lord!" he muttered hoarsely, "she's dead--or dying. I've done it +now!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE GUNMAN + +Dale's first decision was to leave Peggy in the cabin. But she might +recover, and she had recognized him. Ben Nyland would exact stern +vengeance for the outrage. + +Dale stood for some seconds in the doorway, his brain working rapidly. +Then he leaped inside the cabin, took the girl up in his arms, carried +her to his horse, mounted, and with the limp, sagging body in his arms +rode into the night. + +Reaction, also, was working on Banker Maison. Though more than an hour +had passed since he had got into bed, following the departure of his +nocturnal visitor, he had not slept a wink. His brain revolving the +incidents of the night--it had been a positive panorama of vivid +horrors. + +The first gray streak of dawn was splitting the horizon when he gave it +up, clambered out of bed and poured a generous drink from the bottle on +the sideboard. + +"God, a man needs something like this to brace him up after such a +night!" he declared. + +He took a second drink from the bottle, and a third. In the act of +pouring a fourth he heard a sound at the back door, and with a gulp of +terror he remembered that he had again forgotten to lock it. + +Sanderson undoubtedly was returning! + +Again Maison's body became clammy with a cold sweat. He stood in the +room near the sideboard, tremblingly listening. For again there was a +step on the stairs. + +When he saw the door begin to open his knees knocked together, but +there entered, not the dread apparition he expected, but Alva Dale, +with the limp form of a woman in his arms! + +The sudden breaking of the tension, and astonishment over what he saw, +made Maison's voice hoarse. + +"What's up now?" he demanded. + +"Hell!" muttered Dale. He told Maison the whole story--with some +reservations. + +"I was sparkin' her--like I've been doin' for a long time. We had a +tiff over--over somethin'--an' I pushed her. She fell over, hittin' +her head." + +"You damned fool!" snapped Maison. Dale was not Sanderson, and Maison +felt the authority of his position. "This is Peggy Nyland, isn't it? +She's the girl Silverthorn was telling me about--that you're sweet on. +You damned fool. Can't you let the women alone when we're in a deal +like this! You'll ruin the whole thing! Get her out of here!" + +Dale eyed the other sullenly, his face bloating with rage. + +"Look here, Maison; you quit your infernal yappin'. She stays here. I +thought at first I'd killed her an' I was goin' to plant her. But +she's been groanin' a little while I've been comin' here, an' there's a +chance for her. Go get the doctor." + +"What about her brother?" demanded Maison. "He's a shark with a gun, +they tell me, an' a tiger when he's aroused. If he finds out about +this he'll kill both of us." + +Dale grinned saturninely. "I'll take care of the brother," he said. +"You get the doc--an' be damned quick about it!" + +Maison went out, and in five minutes returned with the doctor. The +latter worked for more than an hour with Peggy, and at last succeeded +in reviving her. + +But though Peggy opened her eyes, there was no light of reason in +them--only the vacuous, unseeing stare of a dulled and apathetic brain. + +"She's got an awful whack," said the doctor. "It's cracked her skull. +It'll be weeks before she gets over it--if she ever does. I'll come +and see her tomorrow." + +The doctor came the next day--in the morning. He found the patient no +better. A woman, hired by Dale, was caring for the girl. + +Also, in the morning, Dale paid a visit. His visit was to Dal Colton, +the man Dale had employed to kill Sanderson, and who had so signally +failed. + +The scene of the meeting between Dale and Colton was in the rear room +of the City Hotel. + +"Look here," said Dale. "This deal can't be no whizzer like you run in +on Sanderson. He's got to be dropped, or things are goin' to happen to +all of us. His name's Nyland--Ben Nyland. You know him?" + +Colton nodded. "Plenty. He's a fast man with a gun. I'll have to get +him when he ain't lookin'. You'll get me clear?" + +"No one will know about it," declared Dale. "You go out to his ranch +an' lay for him. He'll be in on the afternoon train. When he comes +into the door of his house, nail him. That's easy." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +CONCERNING A WOMAN + +Day was breaking when Sanderson rode in to the Double A corral and +dismounted. Several of the men of the outfit were astir, and he called +to one of them, and told the man to care for his horse. He grinned +around at them all, and then went into the house. + +Mary Bransford was not yet up. The door that Sanderson had gone out of +the night before was still unlocked. He opened it and entered, passing +through the sitting-room and halting in the kitchen. He had noted that +the door to Mary's room was closed. + +Sanderson's dominant emotion was that of grim satisfaction. He had +compelled Maison to disgorge the money without jeopardizing his own +liberty. Judge Graney's word would suffice to prove his case should +Maison proceed against him. + +But Sanderson had little fear that Maison would attempt reprisal. If +he had judged the man correctly, Maison would not talk, even to +Silverthorn. + +Sanderson cared very little if he did talk. He had reached the point +where the killing of his enemies would come easy to him. They had +chosen lawlessness, and he could wage that kind of warfare as well as +they. He had shown them that he could. + +He disclosed the visible proof of his ability. One by one he drew the +packages of currency from various pockets, tossing them at random on +the kitchen table. He was standing at the table, counting the bills in +one of the packages, when he heard a sound behind him. He wheeled, to +confront Mary Bransford. + +She was dressed, but her face was as yet unwashed, and her hair +uncombed. She stood in the doorway between the dining-room and the +kitchen, looking at Sanderson in sleepy-eyed bewilderment. + +"I saw you riding in," she said. "Where on earth have you been at this +hour? You came from the direction of Okar." + +"Business," he grinned. + +"Business! Why, what kind of business could take you to Okar during +the night?" + +"If you could get the sleep out of your eyes," he suggested, "mebbe you +could see. It's the kind of business that all the world is interested +in--gettin' the money." + +And then she saw the packages of bills. She rubbed her eyes as though +in doubt of the accuracy of her vision; they grew wide and bright with +astonishment and wonder, and she gave a little, breathless gasp as she +ran forward to the table and looked down at the mound of wealth. + +And then, convinced that her senses had not played her a trick, her +face whitened, she drew a long breath, and turned to Sanderson, +grasping the lapels of his coat and holding them tightly. + +"Sanderson," she said in an awed voice, "what have you done? Where did +you get that money?" + +He told her, and her eyes dilated. "What a reckless thing to do!" she +said. "They might have killed you!" + +"Maison was havin' thoughts the other way round," he grinned. "He was +mighty glad I didn't make him pay for the men he killed." + +"They'll be after you--they'll kill you for that!" she told him. + +"Shucks," he laughed. He showed her the document written and signed by +Maison, and attested by Judge Graney: + + +This is to certify that I have tonight paid to Deal Sanderson the sum +of ninety thousand dollars for three thousand head of cattle received +to my full satisfaction. + + +"There ain't no comeback to that!" exulted Sanderson. "Now we'll start +buildin' that dam. Mebbe, though," he added, grinning at her, "if you +knew where a mighty hungry man could find a good cook that would be +willin' to rustle some grub, there'd be----" + +She laughed. "Right away!" she said, and went outside to perform her +ablutions. + +Sanderson, while she was outside, counted out ten thousand dollars and +put it into a pocket. Then he piled the remainder of the money neatly +on the table. When Mary came in, her face glowing, her hair freshly +combed, he stood and looked at her with admiration in his eyes, and a +great longing in his heart. + +"I've dreamed of seein' you that way," he said. + +"As your cook?" she demanded, reddening. + +"A man's grub would taste a heap better if his wife did the cookin'," +he said, his face sober. + +"Why--why--" she said; "do you mean----" + +"I wouldn't be finicky if--if my wife was doin' my cookin'," he +declared, his own face crimson. "I wouldn't kick if she gave me the +same kind of grub every mornin'--if it was she I've wanted." + +"Why, Sanderson! Is this----" + +"It's a proposal, ma'am. I can't say what I want to say--what I've +figured on sayin' to you. I don't seem to be able to find the words I +wanted to use. But you'll understand, ma'am." + +"That you want a cook more than you want a--a wife? Oh, Sanderson!" +she mocked. + +She knew that it was bashfulness that had caused him to mention the +cooking; that he had introduced the subject merely for the purpose of +making an oblique start; but she could not resist the temptation to +taunt him. + +She looked furtively at him to see how deeply she had hurt him, but was +surprised to see him grinning widely. + +"Women ain't so wise as they pretend to be," he said. "There's grub, +an' grub. An' what kind of grub is it that a man in love wants most?" + +She caught his meaning, now, and blushed rosy red, drooping her eyes +from his. + +"That wasn't fair, Sanderson," she said lowly. "Besides, a man can't +live on kisses." + +"I know a man who can," he smiled, his eyes eager and glowing, now that +he saw she was not going to repel him; "that is," he added lowly, "if +he could find a cook that would give them to him whenever he wanted +them. But it would take a lot of them, an' they'd have to be given +with the cook's consent. Do you think you could----" + +He paused and looked at her, for her eyes were shining and her lips +were pursed in a way that left no doubt of the invitation. + +"Why, Mary!" he said, as he caught her in his arms. + +For a time the money lay on the table unnoticed and forgotten, and +there was an eloquent silence in the kitchen. + +A little later, Barney Owen, passing close to the kitchen +window--having seen the men caring for Sanderson's horse, and learning +from them that Sanderson had come in early after having apparently been +out all night--heard Sanderson's voice issuing from the kitchen: + +"There's a difference in kisses; them that you gave me when you thought +I was your brother wasn't half so thrillin' as----" + +Owen stiffened and stood rigid, his face whitening. + +And then again he heard Sanderson's voice: + +"There's a judge in Okar--Judge Graney. An' if you'd consider gettin' +married today, ma'am, why----" + +"Why, Sanderson!" came Mary's voice in mild reproof. + +"Well, then," sounded Sanderson's voice, full of resignation this time; +"have it your way; I don't want to hurry you." + +"Hurry me? Oh, no!" laughed the girl in gentle mockery. Whereat they +both laughed. The sound of it must have pleased Owen, for he, too, +laughed as he left the window and went toward the bunkhouse. + +An hour later Sanderson emerged from the house, threw saddle and bridle +on Streak, and rode out into the basin to a camp where he found Kent +Williams and his men. He gave the engineer the package of bills he had +taken from the table. + +"Here is ten thousand dollars," he said. "You take your men, ride over +to Lazette, get your supplies, an' hustle them right back here. It +ain't likely there'll be any more trouble, but we ain't takin' any +chances. My men ain't got any more cattle to bother with, an' they'll +go with you an' your men to Lazette, an' come back with the wagons to +see that they ain't interfered with. Start as soon as you can get +ready." + +"Within an hour the engineer, his men, and the men of the Double A +outfit were on the move. Barney Owen did not go. He sat on one of the +top rails of the corral fence, alternately watching the men of the +outfit as they faded into the vast space toward Lazette, and Mary +Bransford and Sanderson, as they stood on the porch, close together, +likewise watching the men. + +"I'd say--if anyone was to ask me--that there is a brother who seems to +have been forgotten," said Owen with a curious smile. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A MAN IS AROUSED + +The coming of the dawn and the comforting contact with other human +beings, brought Banker Maison relief from the terrifying fear that had +gripped him during the night. He became almost courageous after +breakfast, and began to think that perhaps he had yielded too readily +to Sanderson's demands. + +As the hours passed and the memory of the night's horror grew more +distant, he began to feel indignant over the treatment accorded him by +Sanderson. Later the indignation grew to a deep and consuming rage, +and he entertained thoughts of his power and influence and of the +comparative unimportance of the grim-faced man who had robbed him. + +Robbed him--that was it! Sanderson had robbed him! + +The more Maison's thoughts dwelt upon the occurrence the deeper grew +his rage. He even condoned Dale's action in bringing the Nyland girl +to his rooms. Dale was his friend, and he would protect him! + +Perhaps Maison did not reflect that his greed was attempting to justify +him; that back of his growing championship of Dale was his eagerness to +get possession of the Nyland property; and that behind his rage over +Sanderson's visit was the bitter thought that Sanderson had compelled +him to pay for the destroyed and stolen steers. + +Maison did not consider that phase of the question. Or if he did +consider it he did not permit that consideration to influence his +actions. For within two hours after breakfast he had sent a messenger +for Silverthorn and Dale, and fifteen minutes later he was telling them +the story of the night's happenings. + +Silverthorn's face grew purple with rage during the recital. At its +conclusion he got up, dark purpose glinting in his eyes. + +"We've got to put Sanderson out of the way, and do it quickly!" he +declared. "And we've got to get that money back. Dale, you're a +deputy sheriff. Damn the law! This isn't a matter for court +action--that damned Graney wouldn't give us a warrant for Sanderson +now, no matter what we told him! We've got to take the law into our +own hands. We'll see if this man can come in here, rob a bank, and get +away without being punished!" + +At the end of a fifteen-minute talk, Dale slipped out of the rear door +of the bank and sought the street. In the City Hotel he whispered to +several men, who sauntered out of the building singly, mounted their +horses, and rode toward the neck of the basin. In another saloon Dale +whispered to several other men, who followed the first ones. + +Dale's search continued for some little time, and he kept a continuous +stream of riders heading toward the neck of the basin. And then, when +he had spoken to as many as he thought he needed, he mounted his own +horse and, rode away. + + +Sanderson and Mary Bransford had not yet settled the question regarding +the disposal of the money Sanderson had received from Banker Maison. +They sat on the edge of the porch, talking about it. From a window of +the bunkhouse Barney Owen watched them, a pleased smile on his face. + +"It's yours," Sanderson told the girl. "An' we ain't trustin' _that_ +to any bank. Look what they did with the seven thousand I've got in +the Lazette bank. They've tied it up so nobody will be able to touch +it until half the lawyers in the county have had a chance to gas about +it. An' by that time there won't be a two-bit piece left to argue +over. No, siree, you've got to keep that coin where you can put your +hands on it when you want it!" + +"When _you_ want it," she smiled. "Do you know, Deal," she added +seriously, blushing as she looked at him, "that our romance has been so +much different from other romances that I've heard about. It has +seemed so--er--matter of fact." + +He grinned. "All romances--real romances--are a heap matter of fact. +Love is the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. When a guy meets a +girl that he takes a shine to--an' the girl takes a shine to him--there +ain't anything goin' to keep them from makin' a go of it." + +He reddened a little. + +"That's what I thought when I saw you. Even when the Drifter was +tellin' me about you, I was sure of you." + +"I think you have shown it in your actions," she laughed. + +"But how about you?" he suggested; "did you have any thoughts on the +subject?" + +"I--I think that even while I thought you were my brother, I realized +that my feeling for you was strange and unusual; though I laid it to +the fact that I had never had a brother, and therefore could not be +expected to know just how a sister should feel toward one. But it has +all been unusual, hasn't it?" + +"If you mean me comin' here like I did, an' masqueradin', an' lettin' +you kiss me, an' fuss over me--why, mebbe that would be considered +unusual. But love ain't unusual; an' a man fightin' for the woman he +loves ain't unusual." + +While he had been talking a change had come over him. His voice had +lost its note of gentle raillery, his lips had straightened into hard +lines, his eyes were glowing with the light she had seen in them more +than once--the cold glitter of hostility. + +Startled, she took him by the shoulders and shook him. + +"Why, what on earth has come over you, Deal?" + +He grinned mirthlessly, got up, took a hitch in his cartridge belt, and +drew a full breath. + +"The fightin' ain't over yet," he said. "There's a bunch of guys +comin' toward the Double A. Dale's gang, most likely--after the money +I took from Maison." + +She was on her feet now, and looking out into the basin. Two or three +miles away, enveloped in huge dust cloud, were a number of riders. +They were coming fast, and headed directly for the Double A ranchhouse. + +The girl clung to Sanderson's arm in sudden terror until he gently +released himself, and taking her by the shoulders forced her through a +door and into the sitting-room. + +"Hide that money in a safe place---where the devil himself couldn't +find it. Don't give it up, no matter what happens." + +He walked to a window and looked out. Behind him he could hear Mary +running here and there; and at last when the riders were within half a +mile of the house, she came and stood behind Sanderson, panting, +resting her hands on his shoulders to peer over them at the coming +riders. + +Sanderson turned and smiled at her. "We'll go out on the porch, now, +an' wait for them." + +"Deal," she whispered excitedly; "why don't you go away? Get on +Streak--he'll outrun any horse in the county! Go! Get Williams and +the other boys. Deal!" She shook him frenziedly. "It isn't the money +they are after--it's you! They'll kill you, Deal! And there are so +many of them! Run--run!" + +He grinned, patting her shoulder as he led her out upon the porch and +forced her into a chair. + +When the men had come near enough for him to distinguish their faces, +and he saw that Dale was leading them, he walked to a slender porch +column and leaned against it, turning to smile at Mary. + +"Maison decided he'd have to talk, looks like," he said. "Some men +just can't help it." + +Rigid in her chair, the girl watched the riders swoop toward the +ranchhouse; Sanderson, lounging against the porch column, smiled +saturninely. + +The riders headed directly toward the porch. Sanderson counted them as +they came to a halt within thirty feet of the edge of the porch. There +were twenty of them. + +Dale, his face flushed, his eyes alight with triumph, dismounted and +stepped forward, halting at the edge of the porch and sweeping his hat +from his head with exaggerated courtesy. + +"Delighted to see you, ma'am--an' your friend, Deal Sanderson. Mr. +Sanderson paid my friend Maison a visit last night, takin' away with +him ninety thousand dollars of the bank's money. Me an' my men has +come over to get the money--an' Mr. Sanderson. The Okar court allows +that it needs him. I've got a warrant for him." + +Dale's grin was huge. He felt secure with his men behind him. + +But if he expected Sanderson to be impressed he was disappointed. The +latter's face did not change color, nor did he shift his position in +the slightest manner. And his cold, amused grin disconcerted Dale. +His voice, when he spoke, was gentle and drawling: + +"Was you thinkin' Miss Bransford is interested in warrants, Dale? Oh, +don't! There's an honest judge in Okar, an' he ain't helpin' Maison's +gang. Get back to Okar an' tell Maison that Sanderson ain't visitin' +Okar today." + +"You ain't, eh!" Dale's voice snapped with rage. "Well, we ain't +carin' a damn whether you do or not! We've got you, right where we +want you. I've got a warrant, an' you'll come peaceable or we'll plant +you! There ain't only two horses in the corral--showing that your men +has gone. An' there ain't anything between you an' the coyotes!" + +"Only you, Dale," said Sanderson. His voice was still gentle, still +drawling. But into it had come a note that made Dale's face turn pale +and caused the bodies of the men in the group to stiffen. + +"Only you, Dale," Sanderson repeated. His right hand was at his hip, +resting lightly on the butt of the six-shooter that reposed in its +holster. + +"I've always wanted to test the idea of whether a crook like you +thought more of what he was doin' than he did of his own life. This +gun leather of mine is kind of short at the top--if you'll notice. The +stock an' the hammer of the gun are where they can be touched without +interferin' with the leather. There ain't any trigger spring, because +I've been brought up to fan the hammer. There ain't any bottom to the +holster, an' it's hung by a little piece of leather so's it'll turn +easy in any direction. + +"It can easy be turned on you. You get goin'. I'll have a chance to +bore one man before your crowd gets me. Likely it will be you. What +are you sayin'?" + +Dale was saying nothing. His face changed color, he shifted his feet +uneasily, and looked back at his men. Some of them were grinning, and +it was plain to Dale that not one of them would act unless ordered to +do so. + +And an order, given by him, would mean suicide, nothing less; for from +that country in which Sanderson had gained his reputation had come +stories of the man's remarkable ability with the weapon he had +described, and Dale had no longing to risk his life so recklessly. + +There was a long, tense silence. Not a man in the group of riders +moved a finger. All were gazing, with a sort of dread fascination, at +the holster at Sanderson's right hip, and at the butt of the gun in it, +projecting far, the hammer in plain sight. + +The situation could not last. Sanderson did not expect it to last. +Seemingly calm and unconcerned, he was in reality passionately alert +and watchful. + +For he had no hope of escaping from this predicament. He had made a +mistake in sending his men away with Williams, and he knew the chances +against him were too great. He had known that all along--even when +talking and comforting Mary Bransford. + +He knew that Dale had come to kill him; that Graney had not issued any +warrant for him, for Graney knew that Maison had acted of his own +volition--or at least had given the judge that impression. + +But whether the warrant was a true one or not, Sanderson had decided +that he would not let himself be taken. He had determined that at the +first movement made by any man in the group he would kill Dale and take +his chance with the others. + +Dale knew it--he saw the cold resolution in Sanderson's eyes. Dale +drew a deep breath, and the men in the group behind him watched him +narrowly. + +But just when it seemed that decisive action in one direction or +another must he taken, there came an interruption. + +Behind Sanderson--from one of the windows of the ranchhouse--came a +hoarse curse. + +Sanderson saw Dale's eyes dilate; he saw the faces of the men in the +group of riders change color; he saw their hands go slowly upward. +Dale, too, raised his hands. + +Glancing swiftly over his shoulder, Sanderson saw Barney Owen at one of +the windows. He was inside the house, his arms were resting on the +window-sill. He was kneeling, and in his hands was a rifle, the muzzle +covering Dale and the men who had come with him. + +Owen's face was chalk white and working with demoniac passion. His +eyes were wild, and blazing with a wanton malignancy that awed every +man who looked at him--Sanderson included. His teeth were bared in a +horrible snarl; the man was like some wild animal--worse, the savage, +primitive passions of him were unleashed and rampant, directed by a +reasoning intelligence. His voice was hoarse and rasping, coming in +jerks: + +"Get out of the way, Sanderson! Stand aside! I'll take care of these +whelps! Get your hands up, Dale! Higher--higher! You damned, +sneaking vulture! Come here to make trouble, eh? You and your bunch +of curs! I'll take care of you! Move--one of you! Move a finger! +You won't! Then go! Go! I'll count three! The man that isn't going +when I finish counting gets his quick! One--two----" + +"Wait!! Already on the move, the men halted at the sound of his voice. +The violence of the passion that gripped him gave him a new thought. + +"You don't go!" he jeered at them. "You stay here. Sanderson, you +take their guns! Grab them yourself!" + +Sanderson drew his own weapon and moved rapidly among the men. He got +Dale's gun first and threw it in the sand at the edge of the porch. +Then he disarmed the others, one after another, throwing the weapons +near where he had thrown Dale's. + +He heard Owen tell Mary Bransford to get them, and he saw Mary +gathering them up and taking them into the house. + +Sanderson made his search of the men thorough, for he had caught the +spirit of the thing. At last, when the guns were all collected, Owen +issued another order: + +"Now turn your backs--every last man of you! And stay that way! The +man that turns his head will never do it again! + +"Sanderson, you go after Williams and the others. They've only been +gone about an hour, and they won't travel fast. Get them! Bring them +back here. Then we'll take the whole bunch over to Okar and see what +Judge Graney has to say about that warrant!" + +Sanderson looked at Mary Bransford, a huge grin on his face. She +smiled stiffly at him in return, and nodded her head. + +Seemingly, it was the only way out of a bad predicament. Certainly +they could not commit wholesale murder, and it was equally certain that +if Dale was permitted to go, he and his men would return. Or they +might retire to a distance, surround the house and thus achieve their +aim. + +Sanderson, however, was not satisfied, for he knew that a sudden, +concerted rush by the men--even though they were unarmed--would result +disastrously to Owen--and to Mary--if she decided to remain. + +Telling the little man to keep a watchful eye on the men, he went among +them, ordering those that were mounted from their horses. When they +were all standing, he began to uncoil the ropes that were hanging from +the saddles. + +He worked fast, and looking up once he saw Owen's eyes glowing with +approval--while Mary smiled broadly at him. They knew what he meant to +do. + +Dale and his men knew also, for their faces grew sullen. Sanderson, +however, would tolerate no resistance. Rope in hand, he faced Dale. +The latter's face grew white with impotent fury as he looked at the +rope in Sanderson's hands; but the significant Hardness that flashed +into Sanderson's eyes convinced him of the futility of resistance, and +he held his hands outward. + +Sanderson tied them. Very little of the rope was required in the +process, and after Dale was secured, Sanderson threw a loop around the +hands of a man who stood beside Dale, linking him with the latter. + +Several others followed. Sanderson used half a dozen ropes, and when +he had finished, all the Dale men--with their leader on an extreme end, +were lashed together. + +There were hard words spoken by the men; but they brought only grins to +Sanderson's face, to Owen's, and to Mary's. + +"They won't bother you a heap, now," declared Sanderson as he stepped +toward the porch and spoke to Owen. "Keep an eye on them, though, an' +don't let them go to movin' around much." + +Sanderson stepped up on the porch and spoke lowly to Mary, asking her +to go with him after Williams--for he had had that thought in mind ever +since Owen had issued the order for him to ride after the engineer. + +But Mary refused, telling Sanderson that by accompanying him she would +only hamper him. + +Reluctantly, then, though swiftly, Sanderson ran to the corral, threw +saddle and bridle on Streak, and returned to the porch. He halted +there for a word with Owen and Mary, then raced northeastward, +following a faint trail that Williams and the others had taken, which +led for a time over the plains, then upward to the mesa which rimmed +the basin. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +A MAN IS HANGED + +Sanderson and Streak grew dim in the distance until, to the watchers at +the ranchhouse, horse and rider merged into a mere blot that crawled up +the long slope leading to the mesa. The watchers saw the blot yet a +little longer, as it traveled with swift, regular leaps along the edge +of the mesa; then it grew fainter and fainter, and at last they saw it +no more. + +Dale's men, their backs to Owen and Mary, seemed to have accepted their +defeat in a spirit of resignation, for they made no attempt to turn +their heads. + +Mary, white and shaking, though with a calmness that came from the +knowledge that in this crisis she must do what she could, went inside +and stood behind Owen, ready to respond to any call he might make upon +her. + +Owen, his rage somewhat abated, though he still watched Dale and his +men with sullen, malevolent eyes, had changed his position. Mary had +brought a chair, and Owen sat on it, the rifle still resting on the +window-sill, menacing the men. + +The minutes, it seemed to the girl, passed with exceeding slowness. +She watched the hands of a clock on a shelf in the room drag themselves +across the face of the dial, and twice she walked in front of the shelf +and peered intently at the clock, to be certain it was going. + +Williams and the other men had been gone for something more than an +hour. But, as Owen had said, they would travel slowly, having no +incentive for haste. Sanderson, on the other hand, would make Streak +run his best--and she knew Streak could run. + +So she began to estimate the time that would elapse before Sanderson +and Williams returned. With an hour's start, she gave Sanderson +three-quarters of an hour to catch them. Then, three quarters of an +hour additional would be required for the run home--if they came back +as swiftly as Sanderson had gone. + +But she doubted that. She would give them a full hour for the return +trip. That would make an hour and three quarters. + +But it seemed to her that an age elapsed before the minute hand on the +clock dragged itself one-quarter of the distance around the circle. + +She looked out at Dale and his men. The men were all standing, their +backs to the house. But it seemed to the girl that they were standing +nearer to one another than they had been all along, and a pulse of +trepidation ran over her. + +Watching them closely, Mary felt they were meditating some action. +They were whispering to one another, and Dale was gesturing as +emphatically as he could. + +The girl was certain they contemplated concerted action of some sort, +and she was just about to apprise Owen of her fears, when she saw one +of the men--and then another and another--working with the ropes that +bound them. One of the men turned, a huge grin on his face. She +caught the flash of metal in the man's hands, saw the rope fall from +them, severed. + +She shouted, then, at Owen: + +"Look out, Barney; they've got a knife!" + +At the instant she spoke the men moved as though by prearrangement. By +the time her voice reached Owen's ears the men had scattered, running +in all directions. Several ran directly away from the house, others +toward it, some went toward the corners of the building nearest them. +All were running zigzag fashion. + +Owen, his eyes blazing, fired three times in rapid succession. One of +the men tumbled, headlong, turning over several times and landing face +downward on the sand of the yard; but several others, apparently +uninjured, ran straight for the ranchhouse. + +There were no stationary targets for Owen to shoot at. By the time he +had fired the three shots the men were all moving. Several the girl +saw as they ran around the ranchhouse; three or four others ran +straight for the door in which she stood. + +She cried sharply to Owen, and the latter fired once, as three or four +figures crossed the porch. The girl could not tell whether or not Dale +was one of the three, for the men moved quickly. + +Owen missed; Mary heard him curse. And before he had time to do either +again the men were inside. Mary was standing near Owen, and she had +reached down for one of the pistols that lay on the floor. + +By the time the men entered the door she had raised the weapon, and as +the first figure burst through the opening, she leveled the weapon and +pulled the trigger. + +The gun went off, but did no apparent damage, and before she could fire +again the men were upon her. She threw the heavy weapon into the face +of the man nearest her--she did not look at him; and ran through the +nearest door, which opened into the kitchen. She heard the man curse +as the weapon struck him full in the face, and she knew, then, that she +had struck Dale. + +In the kitchen the girl hesitated. She would have gone outside, on the +chance that the men there might not see her, but, hesitating at the +kitchen door, she saw a big man running toward it. + +So she turned and ran into the room she used as a pantry, slamming the +door behind her, bolting it and leaning against it, breathing heavily. + +She had not, however, escaped the eyes of the man who had been running +toward the kitchen door. She heard Dale's voice, asking one of the men +if he had seen her, and the latter answered: + +"She ducked into the pantry and closed the door." + +She heard a man step heavily across the kitchen floor, and an instant +later he was shoving against the door with a shoulder. + +"Bolted, eh?" he said with a short laugh. He walked away, and +presently returned. "Well, you'll keep," he said, "there ain't any +windows." + +She knew from his voice that the man was Dale. He had gone outside and +had seen there was no escape for her except through the door she had +barred. + +There came a silence except for the movements of the men, and the low +hum of their voices. She wondered what had become of Owen, but she did +not dare unbolt the door for fear that Dale might be waiting on the +other side of it. So, in the grip of a nameless terror she leaned +against the door and waited. + +She heard Dale talking to his men; he was standing near the door behind +which she stood, and she could hear him distinctly. + +"You guys hit the breeze after Sanderson. Kill him,--an' anybody +that's with him! Wipe out the whole bunch! I'll stay here an' make +the girl tell me where the coin is. Get goin', an' go fast, for +Sanderson will travel some!" + +The girl heard the boots of the men clatter on the floor as they went +out. Listening intently, she could hear the thudding of their horses' +hoofs as they fled. She shrank back from the door, looking hard at it, +wondering if it would hold, if it would resist Dale's efforts to burst +it open--as she knew he would try to do. + +She wished, now, that she had followed Sanderson's suggestion about +riding after Williams. This situation would not have been possible, +then. + +Working feverishly, she piled against the door all the available +articles and objects she could find. There were not many of them, and +they looked a pitifully frail barricade to her. + +A silence that followed was endured with her cringing against the +barricade. She had a hope that Dale would search for the money--that +he would find it, and go away without attempting to molest her. But +when she heard his step just outside the door, she gave up hope and +stood, her knees shaking, awaiting his first movement. + +It came quickly enough. She heard him; saw the door give just a trifle +as he leaned his weight against it. + +The movement made her gasp, and he heard the sound. + +"So you're still there, eh? Well, I thought you would be. Open the +door!" + +"Dale," she said, desperately, "get out of here! I'll tell you where +the money is--I don't want it." + +"All right," he said, "where is it?" + +"It's in the parlor; the packages are stuffed between the springs of +the lounge." + +He laughed, jeeringly. + +"That dodge don't go," he said in a voice that made her feel clammy all +over. "If it's there, all right. I'll get it. But the money can +wait. Open the door!" + +"Dale," she said, as steadily as she could, "if you try to get in here +I shall kill you!" + +"That's good," he laughed; "you threw your gun at me. It hit me, too. +Besides if you had a gun you'd be lettin' it off now--this door ain't +so thick that a bullet wouldn't go through it. Shoot!" + +Again there came a silence. She heard Dale walking about in the +kitchen. She heard him place a chair near the wall which divided the +pantry from the kitchen, and then for the first time she realized that +the partition did not reach entirely to the ceiling; that it rose to a +height only a few feet above her head. + +She heard Dale laugh, triumphantly, at just the instant she looked at +the top of the partition, and she saw one of Dale's legs come over. It +dangled there for a second; then the man's head and shoulders appeared, +with his hands gripping the top of the wall. + +She began to tear at the barricade she had erected, and had only +succeeded in partially demolishing it, when Dale swung his body over +the wall and dropped lightly beside her. + +She fought him with the only weapons she had, her hands, not waiting +for him to advance on her, but leaping at him in a fury and striking +his face with her fists, as she had seen men strike others. + +He laughed, deeply, scornfully, as her blows landed, mocking her +impotent resistance. Twice he seized her hands and swept them brutally +to her sides, where he held them--trying to grip them in one of his; +but she squirmed free and fought him again, clawing at his eyes. + +The nails of her fingers found his cheek, gashing it deeply. The pain +from the hurt made him furious. + +"Damn you, you devil, I'll fix you!" he cursed. And in an access of +bestial rage he tore her hands from his face, crushed them to her +sides, wrenching them cruelly, until she cried out in agony. + +Then, his face hideous, he seized her by the shoulders and crushed her +against the outside wall, so that her head struck it and she sagged +forward into his arms, unconscious. + + +The lock on Barney Owen's rifle had jammed just as Dale entered the +room, following the rush of the men to the outside door. He had +selected Dale as his target. + +He tried for a fatal instant to work the lock, saw his error, and swung +the weapon over his head in an attempt to brain the man nearest him. +The man dodged and the rifle slipped from Owen's hands and went +clattering to the floor. Then the man struck with the butt of one of +the pistols he had picked up from the floor, and Owen went down in a +heap. + +When he regained consciousness the room was empty. For a time he lay +where he had fallen, too dizzy and faint to get to his feet; and then +he heard Dale's voice, saying: + +"A bullet wouldn't go through it. Shoot!" + +At the sound of Dale's voice a terrible rage, such as had seized Owen +at the moment he had stuck the rifle through the window, gripped him +now, and he sat up, swaying from the strength of it. He got to his +feet, muttering insanely, and staggered toward the kitchen door--from +the direction in which Dale's voice seemed to come. + +It took him some time to reach the door, and when he did get there he +was forced to lean against one of the jambs for support. + +But he gained strength rapidly, and peering around the door jamb he was +just in time to see Dale step on a chair and lift himself over the +partition dividing the kitchen from the pantry. + +Owen heard the commotion that followed Dale's disappearance over the +partition; he heard the succeeding crashes and the scuffling. Then +came Dale's voice: + +"Damn you, you devil, I'll fix you!" + +Making queer sounds in his throat, Owen ran into the sitting-room where +the weapons taken from the men had been piled. They were not there. +He picked up the rifle. By some peculiar irony the lock worked all +right for him now, but a quick look told him there were no more +cartridges in the magazine. He dropped the rifle and looked wildly +around for a another weapon. + +He saw a lariat hanging from a peg on the kitchen wall. It was +Sanderson's rope--Owen knew it. Sanderson had oiled it, and had hung +it from the peg to dry. + +Owen whined with joy when he saw it. His face working, odd guttural +sounds coming from his throat, Owen leaped for the rope and pulled it +from the peg. Swiftly uncoiling it, he glanced at the loop to make +sure it would run well; then with a bound he was on the chair and +peering over the top of the partition, the rope in hand, the noose +dangling. + +He saw Dale directly beneath it. The Bar D man was standing over Mary +Bransford. The girl was on her back, her white face upturned, her eyes +closed. + +Grinning with hideous joy, Owen threw the rope. The loop opened, +widened, and dropped cleanly over Dale's head. + +Dale threw up both hands, trying to grasp the sinuous thing that had +encircled his neck, but the little man jerked the rope viciously and +the noose tightened. The force of the jerk pulled Dale off his +balance, and he reeled against the partition. + +Before he could regain his equilibrium Owen leaned far over the top of +the partition. Exerting the last ounce of his strength Owen lifted, +and Dale swung upward, swaying like an eccentric pendulum, his feet +well off the floor. + +Dale's back was toward the wall, and he twisted and squirmed like a cat +to swing himself around so that he could face it. + +During the time Dale struggled to turn, Owen moved rapidly. Leaping +off the chair, keeping the rope taut over the top of the partition, +Owen ran across the kitchen and swiftly looped the end of the rope +around a wooden bar that was used to fasten the rear outside door. + +Then, running into the front room, he got the rifle, and returning to +the kitchen he got on the chair beside the partition. + +He could hear Dale cursing. The man's legs were thrashing about, +striking the boards of the partition. Owen could hear his breath as it +coughed in his throat. But the little man merely grinned, and crouched +on the chair, waiting. + +He was waiting for what he knew would come next. Dale would succeed in +twisting his body around before the rope could strangle him, he would +grasp the rope and pull himself upward until he could reach the top of +the partition with his hands. + +And while Owen watched and waited, Dale's hands came up and gripped the +top of the wall--both hands, huge and muscular. Owen looked at them +with great glee before he acted. Then he brought the stock of the +rifle down on one of the hands with the precision of a cold +deliberation that had taken possession of him. + +Dale screamed with the pain of the hurt, then cursed. But he still +gripped the top of the partition with the other hand. + +Owen grinned, and with the deliberation that had marked the previous +blow he again brought the rifle stock down, smashing the remaining +hand. That, too, disappeared, and Dale's screaming curses filled the +cabin. + +Owen waited. Twice more the hands came up, and twice more Owen crushed +them with the rifle butt. At last, though Owen waited for some time, +the hands came up no more. Then, slowly, cautiously, Owen stuck his +head over the top of the partition. + +Dale's head had fallen forward; he was swinging slowly back and forth, +his body limp and lax. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE AMBUSH + +Streak had done well, having slightly improved on the limit set for the +trip by Mary Bransford. With no delay whatever, Williams and his men +and the Double A cowpunchers were headed for the ranchhouse, their +horses running hard. + +Sanderson was leading them, though close behind came several of the +Double A men, their faces set and grim; and then one of Williams' men, +a young fellow who had admired Mary Bransford from afar; then some more +of the Double A men, and Williams and the remainder of his band of +engineers. + +There was no word spoken. In a few swift sentences Sanderson had told +them what had occurred, and there was no need for words as they fled +southwestward. + +For a few miles the trail was hard and smooth, and the posse made good +time. Then they struck a stretch of broken country, where volcanic +action had split the surface of the earth into fissures and chasms, +thus making speed impossible. + +It took them long to cross the section, and when it was behind them +they found themselves in a hilly country where the going was not much +better than it had been in the volcanic area. + +The trail was narrow, and they were forced to travel in single file. +Sanderson led the way, Streak thundering along, a living blot splitting +the brown, barren wasteland, followed closely by other blots, rushing +over the hazardous trail, the echoes of their passing creating a rumble +as of drumfire reverberating in a canon. + +They came to a point where the trail led upward sharply, veering around +the shoulder of a hill and dropping precipitously into a valley. + +For an instant, as the riders flashed around the shoulder of the hill, +they caught a glimpse of a group of riders coming toward them, visible +to Sanderson and the others as they were for a second exposed to view +in a narrow defile. Then the view of them was cut off, and Sanderson +and the men following him were in the valley, riding desperately, as +before. + +Still there had been no word said. Sanderson had seen the oncoming +riders, but he attached no importance to their appearance, for +cowpunchers often rode in groups to some outlying camp, and these men +might belong to some ranch in the vicinity. + +There was a straight stretch of hard, smooth trail in the center of the +valley, and Sanderson made Streak take it with a rush. Sanderson +grinned grimly as he heard the other men coming close behind him--they +were as eager as he, and as vengeful. + +Up out of the valley went Streak, running with long, smooth leaps that +gave no indication of exhaustion; Sanderson patted his neck as he raced +upward out of the valley and into the defile where they had seen the +riders. + +Sanderson was halfway up the defile when he was assailed with the +thought that by this time--even before this--they should have met the +other riders--had the latter kept the trail. + +Struck by a sudden suspicion that there was something strange about the +disappearance of the riders, Sanderson abruptly pulled Streak up. The +other men were some distance behind, and Sanderson slipped out of the +saddle to give Streak a breathing spell. + +The movement saved his life, for his feet had hardly struck the ground +when he heard the thud of a rifle bullet, the sharp crash of the +weapon, and saw the leaden missile rip the leather on the cantle of the +saddle. + +As though the shot were a signal, there followed others--a ripping, +crashing volley. Sanderson saw the smoke spurts ballooning upward from +behind some rocks and boulders that dotted the hills on both sides of +the defile, he saw several of his men drop from their horses and fall +prone to the ground. + +He shouted to the men to leave their horses and "take cover," and he +himself sought the only cover near him--a wide fissure in the wall of +the long slope below the point where the attackers were concealed. + +Streak, apparently aware of the danger, followed Sanderson into the +shelter of the fissure. + +It was an admirable spot for an ambuscade. Sanderson saw that there +were few places in which his men could conceal themselves, for the +hostile force occupied both sides of the defile. Their rifles were +still popping, and Sanderson saw two of the Double A force go down +before they could find shelter. + +Sanderson divined what had happened--Dale and his men had overpowered +Owen, and had set this ambuscade for himself and the Double A men. + +Dale was determined to murder all of them; it was to be a fight to a +finish--that grim killing of an entire outfit, which, in the idiomatic +phraseology of the cowpuncher, is called a "clean-up." + +Sanderson was aware of the disadvantage which must be faced, but there +was no indication of fear or excitement in his manner. It was not the +first time he had been in danger, and he drew his belt tighter and +examined his pistols as he crouched against the ragged wall of the +fissure. Then, calling Streak to him, he pulled his rifle out of the +saddle holster and examined the magazine. + +Rifle in hand, he first surveyed the wall of the defile opposite him. +The crevice in which he was hiding was irregular at the entrance, and a +jutting shoulder of it concealed him from view from the wall of the +defile opposite him. Another projection, opposite the jutting +shoulder, protected him from any shots that might be aimed at him from +his left. + +The fissure ran, with sharp irregularities, clear up the face of the +wall behind him. He grinned with satisfaction when he saw that there +were a number of places along the upward line of the fissure which +would afford him concealment in an offensive battle with Dale's men. + +He contemplated making things rather warm for the Dale contingent +presently; but first he must make sure that none of his own men was +exposed to danger. + +Cautiously, then, he laid his head close to the ragged wall of the +fissure and peered upward and outward. Behind a big boulder on the +opposite side of the defile he saw a man's head appear. + +Watching for a time, Sanderson made certain the man was not one of his +own outfit, and then he shoved the muzzle of his rifle out, laid his +cheek against the stock, and covered the partly exposed head of the man +behind the boulder. + +Sanderson waited long with his cheek caressing the rifle stock, while +the man behind the boulder wriggled farther out, exposing himself more +and more in his eagerness to gain a more advantageous position. + +And presently, without moving his head, Sanderson discovered that it +was Williams who was in danger. + +Williams had concealed himself behind a jagged rock, which protected +him from the bullets fired from across the defile, and from the sides. +But the rock afforded him no protection from the rear, and the man +behind the boulder was going to take advantage of his opportunity. + +"That's my engineer, mister," he said grimly; "an' I ain't lettin' you +make me go to the trouble of sendin' east for another. You're ready +now, eh?" + +The man behind the boulder had reached a position that satisfied him. +Sanderson saw him snuggle the stock of his rifle against his shoulder. + +Sanderson's rifle cracked viciously. The man behind the boulder was +lying on a slight slope, and when Sanderson's bullet struck him, he +gently rolled over and began to slide downward. He came--a grotesque, +limp thing--down the side of the defile, past the engineer, sliding +gently until he landed in a queer-looking huddle at the bottom, near +the trail. + +Sanderson intently examined other rocks and boulders on the opposite +side of the defile. He had paid no attention to Williams' "Good work, +Sanderson!" except to grin and assure himself that Williams hadn't +"lost his nerve." + +Presently at an angle that ran obliquely upward from a flat, projecting +ledge, behind which another Double A man lay, partly concealed, +Sanderson detected movement. + +It was only a hat that he saw this time, and a glint of sunlight on the +barrel of a rifle. But he saw that the rifle, after moving, became +quite motionless, and he suspected that it was about to be used. + +Again the cheek snuggled the stock of his rifle. + +"This is goin' to be some shot--if I make it!" he told himself just +before he fired. "There ain't nothin' to shoot at but one of his ears, +looks like." + +But at the report of the rifle, the weapon that had been so rigid and +motionless slipped from behind the rock and clattered downward. It +caught halfway between the rock and the bottom of the defile. There +came no sound from behind the rook, and no movement. + +"Got him!" yelled Williams. "Go to it! There's only two more on this +side, that I can see. They're trying mighty hard to perforate me--I'm +losing weight dodging around here trying to keep them from drawing a +bead on me. If I had a rifle----" + +Williams' voice broke off with the crash of a rifle behind him, though +a little to one side. Talking to Sanderson, and trying to see him, +Williams had stuck his head out a little too far. The bullet from the +rifle of the watching enemy clipped off a small piece of the engineer's +ear. + +Williams' voice rose in impotent rage, filling the defile with profane +echoes. Sanderson did not hear Williams. He had chanced to be looking +toward the spot from whence the smoke spurt came. + +A fallen tree, its top branches hanging down the wall of the defile, +provided concealment from which the enemy had sent his shot at +Williams. Sanderson snapped a shot at the point where he had seen the +smoke streak, and heard a cry of rage. + +A man, his face distorted with pain, stood up behind the fallen tree +trunk, the upper part of his body in plain view. + +His rage had made him reckless, and he had stood erect the better to +aim his rifle at the fissure in which Sanderson was concealed. He +fired--and missed, for Sanderson had ducked at the movement. Sanderson +heard the bullet strike the rock wall above his head, and go +ricochetting into the cleft behind him. + +He peered out again instantly, to see that the man was lying doubled +across the fallen tree trunk, his rifle having dropped, muzzle down, in +some bushes below him. + +Sanderson heard Williams' voice, raised in savage exultation: + +"Nip my ear, will you--yon measly son-of-a-gun! I'll show you! + +"Got him with my pistol!" he yelled to one of the Double A men near +him. "Come on out and fight like men, you miserable whelps!" + +The young engineer's fighting blood was up--that was plain to +Sanderson. Sanderson grinned, yielded to a solemn hope that Williams +would not get reckless and expose himself needlessly, and began to +examine the walls of the fissure to determine on a new offensive +movement. + +He was interrupted, though, by another shout from Williams. + +"Got him!" yelled the engineer; "plumb in the beezer!" + +Sanderson peered out, to see the body of a man come tumbling down the +opposite wall of the defile. + +"That's all on this side!" Williams informed the others, shouting. +"Now let's get at the guys on the other side and salivate them!" + +Again Sanderson grinned at the engineer's enthusiasm. That enthusiasm +was infectious, for Sanderson heard some of the other men laughing. +The laughing indicated that they now entertained a hope of ultimate +victory--a hope which they could not have had before Williams and +Sanderson had disposed of the enemies at their rear. + +Sanderson, too, was imbued with a spirit of enthusiasm. He began to +climb the walls of the crevice, finding the ragged rock projections +admirably convenient for footing. + +However, his progress was slow, for he had to be careful not to let his +head show above the edge of the rock that formed the fissure; and so he +was busily engaged for the greater part of half an hour before he +finally reached a position from which he thought he could get a glimpse +of the men on his side of the defile. + +Meanwhile there had been no sound from the bottom, or the other side of +the defile, except an occasional report of a rifle, which told that +Dale's men were firing, or the somewhat more crashing report of a +pistol, which indicated that his own men were replying. + +From where he crouched in the fissure, Sanderson could see some of the +horses at the bottom of the defile. They were grazing unconcernedly. +Scattered along the bottom of the defile were the men who had fallen at +the first fire, and Sanderson's eye glinted with rage when he looked at +them; for he recognized some of them as men of the outfit for whom he +had conceived a liking. Two of Williams' men were lying there, too, +and Sanderson's lips grimmed as he looked at them. + +Thoroughly aroused now, Sanderson replaced the empty cartridges in the +rifle with loaded ones, and, finding a spot between two small boulders, +he shoved the muzzle of the rifle through. + +He had no fear of being shot at from the rear, for the men had +permitted him to go far enough through the defile to allow the others +following him to come into range before they opened fire. + +Thus Sanderson was between the Dale outfit and the Double A ranchhouse, +and he had only to look back in the direction from which he and +Williams had come. None of the Dale men could cross the fissure. + +Cautiously Sanderson raised his head above the rocky edge of the +fissure. He kept his head concealed behind the two small boulders and +he had an uninterrupted view of the entire side of the defile. + +He saw a number of men crouching behind rocks and boulders +that were scattered over the steep slope, and he counted them +deliberately--sixteen. He could see their faces plainly, and he +recognized many of them as Dale's men. They were of the vicious type +that are to be found in all lawless communities. + +Sanderson's grin as he sighted along the barrel of his rifle was full +of sardonic satisfaction, tempered with a slight disappointment. For +he did not see Dale among the others. Dale, he supposed, had stayed +behind. + +The thought of what Dale might be doing at the Double A ranchhouse +maddened Sanderson, and taking quick sight at a man crouching behind a +rock, he pulled the trigger. + +Looking only in front of him, at the other side of the defile where +Sanderson's men were concealed, the man did not expect attack from a +new quarter, and as Sanderson's bullet struck him he leaped up, howling +with pain and astonishment, clutching at his breast. + +He had hardly exposed himself when several reports from the other side +of the defile greeted him. The man staggered and fell behind his rock, +his feet projecting from one side and his head from the other. + +Instantly the battle took on a new aspect. It was a flank attack, +which Dale's men had not anticipated, and it confused them. Several of +them shifted their positions, and in doing so they brought parts of +their bodies into view of the men on the opposite wall. + +There rose from the opposite wall a succession of reports, followed by +hoarse cries of pain from Dale's men. They flopped back again, thus +exposing themselves to Sanderson's fire, and the latter lost not one of +his opportunities. + +It was the aggressors themselves that were now under cross fire, and +they relished it very little. + +A big man, incensed at his inability to silence Sanderson, and wounded +in the shoulder, suddenly left the shelter of his rock and charged +across the steep face of the slope toward the fissure. + +This man was brave, despite his associations, but he was a Dale man, +and deserved no mercy. Sanderson granted him none. Halfway of the +distance between his rock and the fissure he charged before Sanderson +shot him. The man fell soundlessly, turning over and over in his +descent to the bottom of the defile. + +And then rose Williams' voice--Sanderson grinned with bitter humor: + +"We've got them, boys; we've got them. Give them hell, the damned +buzzards!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +NYLAND MEETS A "KILLER" + +Ben Nyland had gone to Lazette to attend to some business that had +demanded his attention. He had delayed going until he could delay no +longer. + +"I hate like blazes to go away an' leave you alone, here--to face that +beast, Dale, if he comes sneakin' around. But I reckon I've just got +to go--I can't put it off any longer. If you'd only go an' stay at +Bransford's while I'm gone I'd feel a heap easier in my mind." + +"I'm not a bit afraid," Peggy declared. "That last experience of +Dale's with Sanderson has done him good, and he won't bother me again." + +That had been the conversation between Ben and Peggy as Ben got ready +to leave. And he had gone away, half convinced that Peggy was right, +and that Dale would not molest her. + +But he had made himself as inconspicuous as possible while in Okar, +waiting for the train, and he was certain that none of Dale's men had +seen him. + +Nyland had concluded his business as quickly as possible, but the best +he could do was to take the return train that he had told Peggy he +would take. That train brought him back to Okar late in the afternoon +of the next day. + +Ben Nyland had been born and raised in the West, and he was of the type +that had made the West the great supply store of the country. Rugged, +honest, industrious, Ben Nyland had no ambitions beyond those of taking +care of his sister--which responsibility had been his since the death +of his parents years before. + +It had not been a responsibility, really, for Nyland worshiped his +sister, and it had been his eagerness to champion her that had made an +enemy of Alva Dale. + +He hated Dale, but not more than he hated Maison and Silverthorn for +the part they were playing--and had played--in trying to rob him of his +land. + +Nyland was a plodder, but there ran in his veins the fighting blood of +ancestors who had conquered the hardships and dangers of a great, +rugged country, and there had been times when he thought of Dale and +the others that his blood had leaped like fire through his veins. + +Twice Peggy had prevented him from killing Alva Dale. + +Nyland was afflicted with a premonition of evil when he got off the +train at Okar. To the insistence of the owner of the livery stable, +where he had left his horse, Nyland replied: + +"I ain't got no time to do any drinkin'; I've got to get home." + +The premonition of evil still oppressed him as he rode his horse +homeward. He rode fast, his face set and worried. + +When he reached the clearing through which Dale had come on the night +he had visited the Nyland cabin, he looked furtively around, for the +dire foreboding that had gripped him for hours had grown suddenly +stronger. + +He halted his horse and sat motionless in the saddle, intently +examining every object within view. + +It was to the horse corral that he finally turned when he could see +nothing strange in the objects around him. He had looked at the house, +and there seemed to be nothing wrong here, for he could see Peggy's +wash on the line that ran from a porch column to a corner of the stable. + +The actions of the three horses in the corral was what attracted his +attention. They were crowding the rail at the point nearest him, +neighing shrilly, though with a curious clacking in their throats that +he instantly detected. + +"They're wantin' water," he said aloud. He rode to the water trough +and saw that it was dry, with a deposit in the bottom which did not +contain a drop of moisture. + +"There ain't been no water put in there since I left," he decided; +"them horses is chokin' with thirst." + +A pulse of anxiety ran over him. There was no doubt in his mind now +that his presentiment of evil was not without foundation, and he +wheeled his horse and sent it toward the house. + +"Peggy would give them water if she was able to be on her feet," he +declared, "she's that kind." + +But halfway to the house another thought assailed him. It drew his +brows together in a scowl, it stiffened his lips until they were in +straight, hard lines. + +"Mebbe Dale's been here! Mebbe he's still here!" + +He abruptly halted his horse and gazed around him. As though he +expected to find something there he looked toward a little timber grove +to the right of the house, far back toward the rimming hills. At the +edge of the grove he saw a horse, saddled and bridled. + +A quick change came over Nyland. The blood left his face, and his eyes +took on an expression of cold cunning. + +Dismounting, he hitched his horse to one of the rails of the corral +fence. With his back turned to the house, his head cocked to one side, +as though he were intent on the knot he was tying in the reins, he +furtively watched the house. + +He took a long time to tie the reins to the rail, but the time was well +spent, for, before he finished, he saw a man's face at one of the +kitchen windows. + +It was not Dale. He was convinced of that, even though he got only a +flashing glance at the face. + +Danger threatened Peggy, or she had succumbed to it. There was no +other explanation of the presence of a strange man in the kitchen. For +if Peggy was able to walk, she would have watered the horses, she would +have met him at the door, as she had always done. + +And if the man were there for any good purpose he would have made his +presence known to Nyland, and would not have hidden himself in the +kitchen, to peer at Nyland through one of the windows. + +Nyland was convinced that Peggy had been foully dealt with. But haste +and recklessness would avail Nyland little. The great mingled rage and +anxiety that had seized him demanded instant action, but he fought it +down; and when he turned toward the house and began to walk toward the +kitchen door, his manner--outwardly--was that of a man who has seen +nothing to arouse his suspicions. + +Yet despite the appearance of calm he was alert, and every muscle and +sinew of his body was tensed for instant action. And so, when he had +approached to within a dozen feet of the kitchen door, and a man's +figure darkened the opening, he dove sidewise, drawing his gun as he +went down and snapping a shot at the figure he had seen. + +So rapid were his movements, and so well timed was his fall, that he +was halfway to the ground when the flash came from the doorway. And +the crash of his own gun followed the other so closely that the two +seemed almost instantaneous. + +Nyland did not conclude his acrobatic performance with the dive. +Landing on the ground he rolled over and over, scrambling toward the +wall of the cabin--reaching it on all fours and crouching there, gun in +hand--waiting. + +He had heard no sound from the man, nor did the latter appear. The +silence within the cabin was as deep as it had been just an instant +before the exchange of shots. + +There was a window in the rear wall of the cabin--a kitchen window. +There was another on the opposite side--the dining-room. There was a +front door and two windows on the side Nyland was on. + +Two courses were open for Nyland. He could gain entrance to the house +through one of the windows or the front door, thereby running the risk +of making a target of himself, or he could stay on the outside and wait +for the man to come out--which he would have to do some time. + +Nyland decided to remain where he was. For a long time he crouched +against the wall and nothing happened. Then, growing impatient, he +moved stealthily around the rear corner, stole to the rear window, and +peered inside. + +It took him long to prepare for the look--he accomplished the action in +an instant--a flashing glance. A gun roared close to his head, the +flash blinding him; the glass tinkling on the ground at his feet. + +But Nyland had not been hit, and he grinned felinely as he dropped to +the ground, slipped under the window, and ran around the house. +Ducking under the side window he ran around to the front. From the +front window he could look through the house, and he saw the man, gun +in hand, watching the side door. + +Nyland took aim through the window, but just as he was about to pull +the trigger of the weapon the man moved stealthily toward the door--out +of Nyland's vision. + +Evidently the man considered the many windows to be a menace to his +safety, and had determined to go outside, where he would have an equal +chance with his intended victim. + +Grinning coldly, Nyland moved to the corner of the house nearest the +kitchen door. The man stepped out of the door, and at the instant +Nyland saw him he was looking toward the rear of the house. + +Nyland laughed--aloud, derisively. He did not want to shoot the man in +the back. + +At Nyland's laugh the man wheeled, snapping a shot from his hip. He +was an instant too late, though, for with the man's wheeling movement +Nyland's gun barked death to him. + +He staggered, the gun falling from his loosening fingers, his hands +dropped to his sides, and he sagged forward inertly, plunging into the +dust in front of the kitchen door. + +Nyland ran forward, peered into the man's face, saw that no more +shooting on his part would be required, and then ran into the house to +search for Peggy. + +She was not in the house--a glance into each room told Nyland that. He +went outside again, his face grim, and knelt beside the man. + +The latter's wound was fatal--Nyland saw that plainly, for the bullet +had entered his breast just above the heart. + +Nyland got some water, for an hour he worked over the man, not to save +his life, but to restore him to consciousness only long enough to +question him. + +And at last his efforts were rewarded: the man opened his eyes, and +they were swimming with the calm light of reason. He smiled faintly at +Nyland. + +"Got me," he said. "Well, I don't care a whole lot. There's just one +thing that's been botherin' me since you come. Did you think somethin' +was wrong in the house when you was tyin' your cayuse over there at the +corral fence?" + +At Nyland's nod he continued: + +"I knowed it. It was the water, wasn't it--in the trough? I'm sure a +damned fool for not thinkin' of that! So that was it? Well, you've +got an eye in your head--I'll tell you that. I'm goin' to cash in, eh?" + +Nyland nodded and the man sighed. He closed his eyes for an instant, +but opened them slightly at Nyland's question: + +"What did you do to Peggy? Where is she?" + +The man was sinking fast, and it seemed that he hardly comprehended +Nyland's question. The latter repeated it, and the man replied weakly: + +"She's over in Okar--at Maison's--in his rooms. She----" + +He closed his eyes and his lips, opening the latter again almost +instantly to cough a crimson stream. + +Nyland got up, his face chalk white. Standing beside the man he +removed the two spent cartridges from the cylinder of his pistol and +replaced them with two loaded ones. Then he ran to his horse, tore the +reins from the rail of the corral fence, mounted with the horse in a +dead run, and raced toward Okar. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +NYLAND'S VENGEANCE + +Just before the dusk enveloped Okar, Banker Maison closed the desk in +his private office and lit a cigar. He leaned back in the big desk +chair, slowly smoking, a complacent smile on his lips, his eyes glowing +with satisfaction. + +For Maison's capacity for pleasure was entirely physical. He got more +enjoyment out of a good dinner and a fragrant cigar than many +intellectual men get out of the study of a literary masterpiece, or a +philanthropist out of the contemplation of a charitable deed. + +Maison did not delve into the soul of things. The effect of his greed +on others he did not consider. That was selfishness, of course, but it +was a satisfying selfishness. + +It did not occur to him that Mary Bransford, for instance, or +Sanderson--or anybody whom he robbed--could experience any emotion or +passion over their losses. They might feel resentful, to be sure; but +resentment could avail them little--and it didn't bring the dollars +back to them. + +He chuckled. He was thinking of the Bransfords now--and Sanderson. He +had put a wolf on Sanderson's trail--he and Silverthorn; and Sanderson +would soon cease to bother him. + +He chuckled again; and he sat in the chair at the desk, hugely enjoying +himself until the cigar was finished. Then he got up, locked the +doors, and went upstairs. + +Peggy Nyland had not recovered consciousness. The woman who was caring +for the girl sat near an open window that looked out upon Okar's one +street when Maison entered the room. + +Maison asked her if there was any change; was told there was not. He +stood for an instant at the window, mentally anathematizing Dale for +bringing the girl to his rooms, and for keeping her there; then he +dismissed the woman, who went down the stairs, opened the door that +Maison had locked, and went outside. + +He stood for an instant longer at the window; then he turned and looked +down at Peggy, stretched out, still and white, on the bed. + +Maison looked long at her, and decided it was not remarkable that Dale +had become infatuated with Peggy, for the girl was handsome. + +Maison had never bothered with women, and he yielded to a suspicion of +sentiment as he looked down at Peggy. But, as always, the sentiment +was not spiritual. + +Dale had intimated that the girl was his mistress. Well, he was bound +to acknowledge that Dale had good taste in such matters, anyway. + +The expression of Maison's face was not good to see; there was a glow +in his eyes that, had Peggy seen it, would have frightened her. + +And if Maison had been less interested in Peggy, and with his thoughts +of Dale, he would have heard the slight sound at the door; he would +have seen Ben Nyland standing there in the deepening dusk, his eyes +aflame with the wild and bitter passions of a man who had come to kill. + +Maison did not see, nor did he hear until Ben leaped for him. Then +Maison heard him, felt his presence, and realized his danger. + +He turned, intending to escape down the other stairway. He was too +late. + +Ben caught him midway between the bed and the door that opened to the +stairway, and his big hands went around the banker's neck, cutting +short his scream of terror and the incoherent mutterings which followed +it. + + +Peggy Nyland had been suffering mental torture for ages, it seemed to +her. Weird and grotesque thoughts had followed one another in rapid +succession through her brain. The thing had grown so vivid--the +horrible imaginings had seemed so real, that many times she had been on +the verge of screaming. Each time she tried to scream, however, she +found that her jaws were tightly set, her teeth clenched, and she could +get no sound through them. + +Lately, though--it seemed that it had been for hours--she had felt a +gradual lessening of the tension. Within the last few hours she had +heard voices near her; had divined that persons were near her. But she +had not been certain. That is, until within a few minutes. + +Then it seemed to her that she heard some giant body threshing around +near her; she heard a stifled scream and incoherent mutterings. The +thing was so close, the thumping and threshing so real, that she +started and sat up in bed, staring wildly around. + +She saw on the floor near her two men. One had his hands buried in the +other's throat, and the face of the latter was black and horribly +bloated. + +This scene, Peggy felt, was real, and again she tried to scream. + +The effort was successful, though the sound was not loud. One of the +men turned, and she knew him. + +"Ben," she said in an awed, scared voice, "what in God's name are you +doing?" + +"Killin' a snake!" he returned sullenly. + +"Dale?" she inquired wildly. Her hands were clasped, the fingers +working, twisting and untwisting. + +"Maison," he told her, his face dark with passion. + +"Because of me! O, Ben! Maison has done nothing to me. It was Dale, +Ben--Dale came to our place and attacked me. I felt him carrying +me--taking me somewhere. This--this place----" + +"Is Maison's rooms," Ben told her. In his eyes was a new passion; he +knelt beside the bed and stroked the girl's hair. + +"Dale, you said--Dale. Dale hurt you? How?" + +She told him, and he got up, a cold smile on his face. + +"You feel better now, eh? You can be alone for a few minutes? I'll +send someone to you." + +He paid no attention to her objections, to her plea that she was afraid +to be alone. He grinned at her, the grin that had been on his face +when he had shot Dal Colton, and backed away from her until he reached +the stairs. + +Outside he mounted his horse and visited several saloons. There was no +sign of Dale. In the City Hotel he came upon a man who told him that +earlier in the day Dale had organized a posse and had gone to the +Double A to arrest Sanderson. This man was not a friend of Dale's, and +one of the posse had told him of Dale's plan. + +Nyland mounted his horse again and headed it for the neck of the basin. +In his heart was the same lust that had been there while he had been +riding toward Okar. + +And in his soul was a rage that had not been sated by the death of the +banker who, a few minutes before Nyland's arrival, had been so smugly +reviewing the pleasurable incidents of his life. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE LAW TAKES A HAND + +Barney Owen was tying the knot of the rope more securely when he heard +the bolt on the pantry door shoot back. He wheeled swiftly, to see +Mary Bransford emerging from the pantry, her hands covering her face in +a vain endeavor to shut from sight the grisly horror she had confronted +when she had reached her feet after recovering consciousness. + +Evidently she had no knowledge of what had occurred, for when at a +sound Owen made and she uncovered her eyes, she saw Owen and instantly +fainted. + +Owen dove forward and caught her as she fell, and then with a strength +that was remarkable in his frail body he carried her to the lounge in +the parlor. + +Ho was compelled to leave her there momentarily, for he still +entertained fears that Dale would escape the loop of the rope. So he +ran into the pantry, looked keenly at Dale, saw that, to all +appearances, he was in the last stages of strangulation, and then went +out again, to return to Mary. + +But before he left Dale he snatched the man's six-shooter from its +sheath, for his own had been lost in the confusion of the rush of +Dale's men for the door. + +Mary was sitting up on the lounge when Owen returned. She was pale, +and a haunting fear, cringing, abject, was in her eyes. + +She got to her feet when she saw Owen and ran to him, crying. + +Owen tried to comfort her, but his words were futile. + +"You be brave, little woman!" he said. "You must be brave! Sanderson +and the other men are in danger, and I've got to go to Okar for help!" + +"I'll go with you," declared the girl. "I can't stay here--I won't. I +can't stand being in the same house with--with that!" She pointed to +the kitchen. + +"All right," Owen said resignedly; "we'll both go. What did you do +with the money?" + +Mary disclosed the hiding place, and Owen took the money, carried it to +the bunkhouse, where he stuffed it into the bottom of a tin food box. +Then, hurriedly, he saddled and bridled two horses and led them to +where Mary was waiting on the porch. + +Mounting, they rode fast toward Okar--the little man's face working +nervously, a great eagerness in his heart to help the man for whom he +had conceived a deep affection. + + +Banker Maison had made no mistake when he had told Sanderson that Judge +Graney was honest. Graney looked honest. There was about him an +atmosphere of straightforwardness that was unmistakable and convincing. +It was because he was honest that a certain governor had sent him to +Okar. + +And Graney had vindicated the governor's faith in him. Whenever crime +and dishonesty raised their heads in Okar, Judge Graney pinned them to +the wall with the sword of justice, and called upon all men to come and +look upon his deeds. + +Maison, Silverthorn, and Dale--and others of their ilk--seldom called +upon the judge for advice. They knew he did not deal in their kind. +Through some underground channel they had secured a deputyship for +Dale, and upon him they depended for whatever law they needed to +further their schemes. + +Judge Graney was fifty--the age of experience. He knew something of +men himself. And on the night that Maison and Sanderson had come to +him, he thought he had seen in Sanderson's eyes a cold menace, a +threat, that meant nothing less than death for the banker, if the +latter had refused to write the bill of sale. + +For, of course, the judge knew that the banker was being forced to make +out the bill of sale. He knew that from the cold determination and +alert watchfulness in Sanderson's eyes; he saw it in the white +nervousness of the banker. + +And yet it was not his business to interfere, or to refuse to attest +the signatures of the men. He had asked Maison to take the oath, and +the banker had taken it. + +Thus it seemed he had entered into the contract in good faith. If he +had not, and there was something wrong about the deal, Maison had +recourse to the law, and the judge would have aided him. + +But nothing had come of it; Maison had said nothing, had lodged no +complaint. + +But the judge had kept the case in mind. + +Late in the afternoon of the day on which Dale had organized the posse +to go to the Double A, Judge Graney sat at his desk in the courtroom. +The room was empty, except for a court attache, who was industriously +writing at a little desk in the rear of the room. + +The Maison case was in the judge's mental vision, and he was wondering +why the banker had not complained, when the sheriff of Colfax entered. + +Graney smiled a welcome at him. "You don't get over this way very +often, Warde, but when you do, I'm glad to see you. Sit on the +desk--that's your usual place, anyway." + +Warde followed the suggestion about the desk; he sat on it, his legs +dangling. There was a glint of doubt and anxiety in his eyes. + +"What's wrong, Warde?" asked the judge. + +"Plenty," declared Warde. "I've come to you for advice--and perhaps +for some warrants. You recollect some time ago there was a herd of +cattle lost in Devil's Hole--and some men. Some of the men were shot, +and one or two of them went down under the herd when it stampeded." + +"Yes," said the judge, "I heard rumors of it. But those things are not +uncommon, and I haven't time to look them up unless the cases are +brought formally to my attention." + +"Well," resumed Warde, "at the time there didn't seem to be any clue to +work on that would indicate who had done the killing. We've nothing to +do with the stampede, of course--that sort of stuff is out of my line. +But about the shooting of the men. I've got evidence now." + +"Go ahead," directed the judge. + +"Well, on the night of the killing two of my men were nosing around the +level near Devil's Hole, trying to locate a horse thief who had been +trailed to that section. They didn't find the horse thief, but they +saw a bunch of men sneaking around a camp fire that belonged to the +outfit which was trailin' the herd that went down in Devil's Hole. + +"They didn't interfere, because they didn't know what was up. But they +saw one of the men stampede the herd, and they saw the rest of them do +the killing." + +"Who did the killing?" + +"Dale and his gang," declared the sheriff. + +Judge Graney's eyes glowed. He sat erect and looked hard at the +sheriff. + +"Who is Sanderson?" he asked. + +"That's the fellow who bossed the trail herd." + +The judge smiled oddly. "There were three thousand head of cattle?" + +Warde straightened. "How in hell do you know?" he demanded. + +"Banker Maison paid for them," he said gently. + +He related to Warde the incident of the visit of Sanderson and the +banker, and the payment to Sanderson by Maison of the ninety thousand +dollars. + +At the conclusion of the recital Warde struck the desk with his fist. + +"Damned if I didn't think it was something like that!" he declared. +"But I wasn't going to make a holler until I was sure. But Sanderson +knew, eh? He knew all the time who had done the killing, and who had +planned it. Game, eh? He was playing her a lone hand!" + +The sheriff was silent for a moment, and then he spoke again, a glow of +excitement in his eyes. "But there'll be hell to pay about this! If +Sanderson took ninety thousand dollars away from Maison, Maison was +sure to tell Dale and Silverthorn about it--for they're as thick as +three in a bed. And none of them are the kind of men to stand for that +kind of stuff from anybody--not even from a man like Sanderson!" + +"We've got to do something, Judge! Give me warrants for the three of +them--Dale, Maison, and Silverthorn, and I'll run them in before they +get a chance to hand Sanderson anything!" + +Judge Graney called the busy clerk and gave him brief instructions. As +the latter started toward his desk there was a sound at the door, and +Barney Owen came in, breathing heavily. + +Barney's eyes lighted when they rested upon the sheriff, for he had not +hoped to see him there. He related to them what had happened at the +Double A that day, and how Dale's men had followed Sanderson and the +others to "wipe them out" if they could. + +"That settles it!" declared the sheriff. He was outside in an instant, +running here and there in search of men to form a posse. He found +them, scores of them; for in all communities where the law is +represented, there are men who take pride in upholding it. + +So it was with Okar. When the law-loving citizens of the town were +told what had occurred they began to gather around the sheriff from all +directions--all armed and eager. And yet it was long after dusk before +the cavalcade of men turned their horses' heads toward the neck of the +basin, to begin the long, hard ride over the plains to the spot where +Sanderson, Williams, and the others had been ambushed by Dale's men. + +A rumor came to the men, however, just before they started, which made +several of them look at one another--for there had been those who had +seen Ben Nyland riding down the street toward Maison's bank in the +dusk, his face set and grim and a wild light in his eyes. + +"Maison has been guzzled--he's deader than a salt mackerel!" came the +word, leaping from lip to lip. + +Sheriff Warde grinned. "Serves him right," he declared; "that's one +less for us to hang!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE FUGITIVE + +After the departure of Barney Owen and Mary Bransford, the Double A +ranchhouse was as silent as any house, supposed to be occupied by a +dead man, could be. + +But after a few minutes, if one had looked over the top of the +partition from which Owen had hanged Alva Dale, one might have seen +Dale move a little. One might have been frightened, but if one had +stayed there, it would have been to see Dale move again. + +The first time he moved he had merely placed his feet upon the floor, +to rest himself. The second movement resulted in him raising his +smashed hands and lifting the noose from his neck. + +He threw it viciously from him after removing it, so that it flew over +the top of the partition and swished sinuously upon the floor of the +kitchen. + +For Barney Owen had not done a good job in hanging Dale. For when +Barney had run across the kitchen with the rope, to tie it to the +fastenings of the door, it had slacked a little, enough to permit +Dale's toes to touch the floor of the pantry. + +Feeling the slack, Dale had taken advantage of it, throwing his head +forward a little, to keep the rope taut while Owen fastened it. All +that had been involuntary with Dale. + +For, at that time Dale had had no thought of trying to fool Owen--he +had merely taken what chance had given him. And when the first shock +of the thing was over he had begun his attempts to reach the top of the +partition in order to slacken the rope enough to get it over his +head--for at that time he did not know that already the rope was slack +enough. + +It was not until after his hands had been smashed and he had dropped to +the floor again, that he realized that he might have thrown the rope +off at once. + +Then it was too late for him to do anything, for he felt Owen above +him, at the top of the partition, and he thought Owen had a gun. So he +feigned strangulation, and Owen had been deceived. + +And when Owen had entered the pantry, Dale still continued to feign +strangulation, letting his body sag, and causing a real pressure on his +neck. He dared not open his eyes to see if Owen had a weapon, for then +the little man, having a gun, would have quickly finished the work +that, seemingly, the rope had begun. + +Dale might have drawn his own gun, taking a long chance of hitting +Owen, but he was at a great disadvantage because of the condition of +his hands, and he decided not to. + +Dale heard Owen and Mary go out; he heard the clatter of hoofs as they +rode away. Then he emerged from the pantry, and through a window +watched the two as they rode down the slope of the basin. + +Then Dale yielded to the bitter disappointment that oppressed him, and +cursed profanely, going from room to room and vengefully kicking things +out of his way while bandaging his smashed hands. + +In the parlor he overturned the lounge and almost kicked it to pieces +searching for the money Mary had told him was concealed there. + +"The damned hussy!" he raged, when he realized that the money was not +in the lounge. + +He went out, got on his horse, and rode across the level back of the +house, and up the slope leading to the mesa, where he had seen +Sanderson riding earlier in the day. + +For an hour he rode, warily, for he did not want to come upon Sanderson +unawares--if his men had not intercepted his enemy; and then reaching +the edge of a section of hilly country, he halted and sat motionless in +the saddle. + +For, from some distance ahead of him he heard the reports of firearms, +and over him, at the sound, swept a curious reluctance to go any +farther in that direction. + +For it seemed to him there was something forbidding in the sound; it +was as though the sounds carried to him on the slight breeze were +burdened with an evil portent; that they carried a threat and a warning. + +He sat long there, undecided, vacillating. Then he shuddered, wheeled +his horse, and sent him scampering over the back trail. + +He rode to the Bar D. His men--the regular punchers--were working far +down in the basin, and there was no one in the house. + +He sat for hours alone in his office, waiting for news of the men he +had sent after Sanderson; and as the interval of their absence grew +longer the dark forebodings that had assailed him when within hearing +distance of the firing seized him again--grew more depressing, and he +sat, gripping the arms of his chair, a clammy perspiration stealing +over him. + +He shook off the feeling at last, and stood up, scowling. + +"That's what a man gets for givin' up to a damn fool notion like that," +he said, thinking of the fear that had seized him while listening to +the shooting. "Once a man lets on he's afraid, the thing keeps a +workin' on him till he's certain sure he's a coward. Them boys didn't +need me, anyway--they'll get Sanderson." + +So he justified his lack of courage, and spent some hours reading. But +at last the strain grew too great, and as the dusk came on he began to +have thoughts of Dal Colton. Ben Nyland must have reached home by this +time. Had Colton succeeded? + +He thought of riding to Nyland's ranch, but he gave up that idea when +he reasoned that perhaps Colton had failed, and in that case Nyland +wouldn't be the most gentle person in the world to face on his own +property. + +If Colton had succeeded he would find him, in Okar. So he mounted his +horse and rode to Okar. + +The town seemed to be deserted when he dismounted in front of the City +Hotel. He did not go inside the building, merely looking in through +one of the windows, and seeing a few men in there, playing cards in a +listless manner. He did not see Colton. + +He looked into several other windows. Colton was nowhere to be seen. +In several places Dale inquired about him. No one had seen Colton that +day. + +No one said anything to Dale about what had happened. Perhaps they +thought he knew. At any rate, Dale heard no word of what had +transpired during his absence. Men spoke to him, or nodded--and looked +away, to look at him when his back was turned. + +All this had its effect on Dale. He noted the restraint, he felt the +atmosphere of strangeness. But he blamed it all on the queer +premonition that had taken possession of his senses. It was not Okar +that looked strange, nor the men, it was himself. + +He went to the bank building and entered the rear door, clumping +heavily up the stairs, for he felt a heavy depression. When he opened +the door at the top of the stairs night had come. A kerosene lamp on a +table in the room blinded him for an instant, and he stood, blinking at +it. + +When his eyes grew accustomed to the glare he saw Peggy Nyland sitting +up in bed, looking at him. + +She did not say anything, but continued to look at him. There was +wonder in her eyes, and Dale saw it. It was wonder over Dale's +visit--over his coming to Okar. Ben must have missed him, for Dale was +alive! Dale could not have heard what had happened. + +"You're better, eh?" said Dale. + +She merely nodded her reply, and watched Dale as he crossed the room. + +Reaching a door that led into another room, Dale turned. + +"Where's Maison?" + +Peggy pointed at the door on whose threshold Dale stood. + +Dale entered. What he saw in the room caused him to come out again, +his face ashen. + +"What's happened?" he demanded hoarsely, stepping to the side of the +bed and looking down at Peggy. + +Peggy told him. The man's face grew gray with the great fear that +clutched him, and he stepped back; then came forward again, looking +keenly at the girl as though he doubted her. + +"Nyland killed him--choked him to death?" he said. + +Peggy nodded silently. The cringing fear showing in the man's eyes +appalled her. She hated him, and he had done this thing to her, but +she did not want the stigma of another killing on her brother's name. + +"Look here, Dale!" she said. "You'd better get out of here--and out of +the country! Okar is all stirred up over what you have done. Sheriff +Warde was in Okar and had a talk with Judge Graney. Warde knows who +killed those men at Devil's Hole, and he is going to hang them. You +are one of them; but you won't hang if Ben catches you. And he is +looking for you! You'd better go--and go fast!" + +For an instant Dale stood, looking at Peggy, searching her face and +probing her eyes for signs that she was lying to him. He saw no such +signs. Turning swiftly, he ran down the stairs, out into the street, +and mounting, with his horse already running, he fled toward the basin +and the Bar D. + +He had yielded entirely to the presentiment of evil that had tortured +him all day. + +All his schemes and plots for the stealing of the Double A and Nyland's +ranch were forgotten in the frenzy to escape that had taken possession +of him, and he spurred his horse to its best efforts as he ran--away +from Okar; as he fled from the vengeance of those forces which his +evilness had aroused. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +WINNING A FIGHT + +After Sanderson shot the big man who had tried to rush him, there was a +silence in the defile. Those of Dale's men who had positions of +security held them, not exposing themselves to the deadly fire of +Sanderson and the others. + +For two hours Sanderson clung to his precarious position in the +fissure, until his muscles ached with the strain and his eyes blurred +because of the constant vigil. But he grimly held the place, knowing +that upon him depended in a large measure the safety of the men on the +opposite side of the defile. + +The third hour was beginning when Sanderson saw a puff of smoke burst +from behind a rock held by one of his men; he heard the crash of a +pistol, and saw one of Dale's men flop into view from behind a rock +near him. + +Sanderson's smile was a tribute to the vigilance of his men. Evidently +the Dale man, fearing Sanderson's inaction might mean that he was +seeking a new position from where he could pick off more of his +enemies, had shifted his own position so no part of his body was +exposed to Sanderson. + +He had wriggled around too far, and the shot from Sanderson's man had +been the result. + +The man was not dead; Sanderson could see him writhing. He was badly +wounded, too, and Sanderson did not shoot, though he could have +finished him. + +But the incident drew Sanderson's attention to the possibilities of a +new position. He had thought at first that he had climbed as high in +the fissure as he dared without exposing himself to the fire of the +Dale men; but examining the place again he saw that he might, with +exceeding caution, take another position about twenty feet farther on. + +He decided to try. Letting himself down until his feet struck a flat +rock projection, he rested. Then, the weariness dispersed, he began to +climb, shoving his rifle between his body and the cartridge belt around +his waist. + +It took him half an hour to reach the point he had decided upon, and by +that time the sun had gone far down into the hazy western distance, and +a glow--saffron and rose and violet--like a gauze curtain slowly +descending--warned him that twilight was not far away. + +Sanderson determined to finish the battle before the darkness could +come to increase the hazard, and when he reached the spot in the +fissure he hurriedly took note of the strategical points of the +position. + +There was not much concealment for his body. He was compelled to lie +flat on his stomach to be certain that no portion of his body was +exposed; and he found a place in a little depression at the edge of the +fissure that seemed suitable. Then he raised his head above the little +ridge that concealed him from his enemies. + +He saw them all--every man of them. Some of them were crouching; some +were lying prone--apparently resting; still others were sitting, their +backs against their protection--waiting. + +Sanderson took his rifle by the barrel and with the stock forced a +channel through some rotted rock on the top of the little ridge that +afforded him concealment. When he had dug the channel deeply +enough--so that he could aim the weapon without exposing his head--he +stuck the rifle barrel into the channel and shouted to the Dale men: + +"This game is played out, boys! I'm behind you. You can't hide any +longer. I give you fair warning that if you don't come out within a +minute, throwin' your guns away an' holdin' up your hands, I'll pick +you off, one by one! That goes!" + +There was sincerity in Sanderson's voice, but the men doubted. +Sanderson saw them look around, but it was plain to him that they could +not tell from which direction his voice came. + +"Bluffin'!" scoffed a man who was in plain view of Sanderson; the very +man, indeed, upon whom Sanderson had his rifle trained. + +"Bluffin', eh?" replied Sanderson grimly. "I've got a bead on you. At +the end of one minute--if you don't toss your guns away and step out, +holdin' up your hands, I'll bore you--plenty!" + +Half a minute passed and the man did not move. He was crouching, and +his gaze swept the edge of the fissure from which Sanderson's voice +seemed to come. His face was white, his eyes wide with the fear of +death. + +Just when it seemed that Sanderson must shoot to make his statement and +threat convincing, the man shouted: + +"This game's too certain--for me, I'm through!" + +He threw his weapons away, so that they went bounding and clattering to +the foot of the slope. Then he again faced the fissure, shouting: + +"I know I've caved, an' you know I've caved. But what about them guys +on the other side, there? They'll be blowin' me apart if I go to +showin' myself." + +Sanderson called to Williams and the others, telling them the men were +going to surrender, and warning them to look out for treachery. + +"If one of them tries any monkey-shines, nail him!" he ordered. +"There's eleven of them that ain't been touched--an' some more that +ain't as active as they might be. But they can bend a gun handy +enough. Don't take any chances!" + +Sanderson ordered the man to step out. He did so, gingerly, as though +he expected to be shot. When he was in plain view of Sanderson's men, +Sanderson ordered him to descend the slope and stand beside a huge rock +ledge. He watched while the man descended; then he called to the +others: + +"Step up an' take your medicine! One at a time! Guns first. +Williams!" he called. "You get their guns as fast as they come down. +I'll see that none of them plug you while you're doin' it!" + +There was no hitch in the surrender; and no attempt to shoot Williams. +One by one the men dropped their weapons down the slope. + +When all the men had reached the bottom of the defile Sanderson climbed +down and asked the first man who had surrendered where they had left +their horses. The animals were brought, and the men forced to mount +them. Then, the Dale men riding ahead, Sanderson and the others +behind, they began the return trip. + +When they reached the open country above the defile, Sanderson rode +close to Williams. + +"There's enough of you to take care of this gang," he said, indicating +the prisoners; "I'm goin' to hit the breeze to the Double A an' see +what's happened there!" + +"Sure!" agreed Williams. "Beat it!" + +When Streak got the word he leaped forward at a pace that gave Williams +an idea of how he had gained his name. He flashed by the head of the +moving columns and vanished into the growing darkness, running with +long, swift, sure leaps that took him over the ground like a feather +before a hurricane. + +But fast as he went, he did not travel too rapidly for Sanderson. For +in Sanderson's heart also lurked a premonition of evil. But he did not +fear it; it grimmed his lips, it made his eyes blaze with a wanton, +savage fire; it filled his heart with a bitter passion to slay the man +who had stayed behind at the Double A ranchhouse. + +And he urged Streak to additional effort, heading him recklessly +through sections of country where a stumble meant disaster, lifting him +on the levels, and riding all the time with only one thought in +mind--speed, speed, speed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +A MAN LEAVES OKAR + +Riding the hard trail through the basin, from its neck at Okar to the +broad, upward slope that led to the Double A ranchhouse, came another +man, who also was sacrificing everything to speed. His horse was +fresh, and he spared it not at all as he swept in long, smooth, swift +undulations over the floor of the basin. + +Ben Nyland's lips were as straight and hard as were those of the other +man who was racing toward the Double A from another direction; his face +was as grim, and his thoughts were as bitter and savage. + +When he reached the bottom of the long, gentle slope that stretched to +the Double A ranchhouse he did not spare his horse. The terrible spurs +sank in again and again, stirring the animal to a frenzy of effort, and +he rushed up the slope as though it were a level, snorting with pain +and fury, but holding the pace his rider demanded of him. + +And when he reached the corral fence near the Double A ranchhouse, and +his rider dismounted and ran forward, the horse heaved a sigh of relief +and stood, bracing his legs to keep from falling, his breath coming in +terrific heaves. + +An instant after his arrival Ben Nyland was in side the Double A +ranchhouse, pistol in hand. He tore through the rooms in the darkness, +stumbling over the furniture, knocking it hither and there as it +interfered with his progress. + +He found no one. Accidentally colliding with the table in the kitchen, +he searched its top and discovered thereon a kerosene lamp. Lighting +it with fingers that trembled, he looked around him. + +There were signs of the confusion that had reigned during the day. He +saw on the floor the rope that had encircled Dale's neck--one end of it +was tied to the fastenings of the kitchen door. + +The tied rope was a mystery to Nyland, but it suggested hanging to his +thoughts, already lurid, and he leaped for the pantry. There he grimly +viewed the wreck and turned away, muttering. + +"He's been here an' gone," he said, meaning Dale; "them's his +marks--ruin." + +Blowing out the light he went to the front door, paused in it and then +went out upon the porch, from where he could look northeastward at the +edge of the mesa surmounting the big slope that merged into the floor +of the basin. + +Faintly outlined against the luminous dark blue of the sky, he caught +the leaping silhouette of a horse and rider. He grinned coldly, and +stepped back into the shadow of the doorway. + +"That's him, damn him!" he said. "He's comin' back!" + +He had not long to wait. He saw the leaping silhouette disappear, +seeming to sink into the earth, but he knew that horse and rider were +descending the slope; that it would not be long before they would +thunder up to the ranchhouse--and he gripped the butt of his gun until +his fingers ached. + +He saw a blot appear from the dark shadows of the slope and come +rushing toward him. He could hear the heave and sob of the horse's +breath as it ran, and in another instant the animal came to a sliding +halt near the edge of the porch, the rider threw himself out of the +saddle and ran forward. + +At the first step taken by the man after he reached the porch edge, he +was halted by Nyland's sharp: + +"Hands up!" + +And at the sound of the other's voice the newcomer cried out in +astonishment: + +"Ben Nyland! What in hell are you doin' here?" + +"Lookin' for Dale," said the other, hoarsely. "Thought you was him, +an' come pretty near borin' you. What saved you was a notion I had of +wantin' Dale to know what I was killin' him for! Pretty close, Deal!" + +"Why do you want to kill him?" + +"For what he done to Peggy--damn him! He sneaked into the house an' +hurt her head, draggin' her to Okar--to Maison's. I've killed Maison, +an' I'll kill him!" + +"He ain't here, then--Dale ain't?" demanded Sanderson. + +"They ain't nobody here," gruffly announced Nyland. "They've been +here, an' gone. Dale, most likely. The house looks like a twister had +struck it!" + +Sanderson was inside before Nyland ceased speaking. He found the lamp, +lit it, and looked around the interior, noting the partially destroyed +lounge and the other wrecked furniture, strewn around the rooms. He +went out again and met Nyland on the porch. + +One look at Sanderson told Nyland what was in the latter's mind, and he +said: + +"He's at the Bar D, most likely. We'll get him!" + +"I ain't takin' no chance of missin' him," Sanderson shot back at +Nyland as they mounted their horses; "you fan it to Okar an' I'll head +for his shack!" + +Nyland's agreement to this plan was manifested by his actions. He said +nothing, but rode beside Sanderson for a mile or so, then he veered off +and rode at an angle which would take him to the neck of the basin, +while Sanderson, turning slightly northward, headed Streak for Dale's +ranch. + +Halfway between the Double A and the neck of the basin, Nyland came +upon the sheriff and his posse. The posse halted Nyland, thinking he +might be Dale, but upon discovering the error allowed the man to +proceed--after he had told them that Sanderson was safe and was riding +toward the Bar D. Sanderson, Nyland said, was after Dale. He did not +say that he, too, wanted to see Dale. + +"Dale!" mocked the sheriff, "Barney Owen hung him!" + +"Dale's alive, an' in Okar--or somewhere!" Nyland flung back at them as +he raced toward town. + +"I reckon we might as well go back," said the sheriff to his men. "The +clean-up has took place, an' it's all over--or Sanderson wouldn't be +back. We'll go back to Okar an' have a talk with Silverthorn. An' +mebbe, if Dale's around, we'll run into him." + +The posse, led by the sheriff, returned to Okar. Within five minutes +after his arrival in town the sheriff was confronting Silverthorn in +the latter's office in the railroad station. The posse waited. + +"It comes to this, Silverthorn," said the sheriff. "We ain't got any +evidence that you had a hand in killing those men at Devil's Hole. But +there ain't a man--an honest man--in town that ain't convinced that you +did have a hand in it. What I want to say to you is this: + +"Sanderson and Nyland are running maverick around the country tonight. +Nyland has killed Maison and is hunting for Dale. Sanderson and his +men have cleaned up the bunch of guys that went out this morning to +wipe Sanderson out. And Sanderson is looking for Dale. And after he +gets Dale he'll come for you, for he's seeing red, for sure. + +"I ain't interfering. This is one of the times when the law don't see +anything--and don't want to see anything. I won't touch Nyland for +killing Maison, and I won't lay a finger on Sanderson if he shoots the +gizzard out of you. There's a train out of here in fifteen minutes. I +give you your chance--take the train or take your chance with +Sanderson!" + +"I'll take the train," declared Silverthorn. + +Fifteen minutes later, white and scared, he was sitting in a coach, +cringing far back into one of the seats, cursing, for it seemed to him +that the train would never start. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +A MAN GETS A SQUARE DEAL + +Dale did not miss Ben Nyland by more than a few hundred yards as he +passed through the neck of the basin. But the men could not see each +other in the black shadows cast by the somber mountains that guarded +the entrance to the basin, and so they sped on, one headed away from +Okar and one toward it, each man nursing his bitter thoughts; one +intent on killing and the other riding to escape the death that, he +felt, was imminent. + +Dale reached the Bar D and pulled the saddle and bridle from his horse. +He caught up a fresh animal, threw saddle and bridle on him, and then +ran into the house to get some things that he thought might be valuable +to him. + +He came out again, and nervously paused on the threshold of the door to +listen. + +A sound reached his ears--the heavy drumming of a horse's hoofs on the +hard sand in the vicinity of the ranchhouse; and Dale gulped down his +fear as he ran to his horse, threw himself into the saddle and raced +around a corner of the house. + +He had hardly vanished into the gloom of the night when another rider +burst into view. + +The second rider was Sanderson. He did not halt Streak at the door of +the Bar D ranchhouse, for from a distance he had seen a man throw +himself upon a horse and dash away, and he knew of no man in the basin, +except Dale, who would find it necessary to run from his home in that +fashion. + +So he kept Streak in the dead run he had been in when approaching the +house, and when he reached the corner around which Dale had vanished, +he saw his man, two or three hundred yards ahead, flashing across a +level toward the far side of the big basin. + +He knew that Dale thought his pursuer was Nyland, and that thought gave +Sanderson a grim joy. In Sanderson's mind was a picture of Dale's +face--of the stark, naked astonishment that would be on it when he +discovered that it was Sanderson and not Nyland who had caught him. + +For Sanderson would catch him--he was convinced of that. + +The conviction became strengthened when, after half an hour's run, +Streak had pulled up on Dale. Sanderson could see that Dale's horse +was running erratically; that it faltered on the slight rises that they +came to now and then. And when Sanderson discovered that Dale's horse +was failing, he urged Streak to a faster pace. In an hour the space +between the two riders had become less. They were climbing the long, +gradual slope that led upward out of the basin when Dale's horse +stumbled and fell, throwing Dale out of the saddle. + +There was something horribly final in the manner of Dale's falling, for +he tumbled heavily and lay perfectly quiet afterward. His horse, after +rising, stumbled on a few steps and fell again. + +Sanderson, fully alive to the danger of haste, rode slowly toward the +fallen man. He was taking no chances, for Dale might be shamming in an +effort to shoot Sanderson as he came forward. + +But Dale was not shamming. Dismounting and drawing his pistol, +Sanderson went forward. Dale did not move, and when at last Sanderson +stood over the fallen man he saw that his eyes were closed and that a +great gash had been cut in his forehead near the right temple. + +Sanderson saw that the man was badly hurt, but to make sure of him he +drew Dale's pistol from its sheath and searched his clothing for other +weapons--finding another pistol in a pocket, and a knife in a belt. +These he threw into some brush near by, and then he bent over the man. + +Dale was unconscious, and despite all Sanderson could do, he remained +so. + +Sanderson examined the wound in his temple, and discovered that it was +deep and ragged--such a wound as a jagged stone might make. + +It was midnight when Sanderson ceased his efforts and decided that Dale +would die. He pitied the man, but he felt no pang of regret, for Dale +had brought his death upon himself. Sanderson wondered, standing +there, looking down at Dale, whether he would have killed the man. He +decided that he would have killed him. + +"But that ain't no reason why I should let him die after he's had an +accident," he told himself. "I'll get him to Okar--to the doctor. +Then, after the doc patches him up--if he can--an' I still think he +needs killing I'll do it." + +So he brought Dale's horse near. The animal had had a long rest, and +had regained his strength. + +Sanderson bent to Dale and lifted his shoulders, so that he might get +an arm under him, to carry him to his horse. But at the first movement +Dale groaned and opened his eyes, looking directly into Sanderson's. + +"Don't!" he said, "for God's sake, don't! You'll break me apart! It's +my back--it's broke. I've felt you workin' around me for hours. But +it won't do any good--I'm done. I can feel myself goin'." + +Sanderson laid him down again and knelt beside him. + +"You're Sanderson," said Dale, after a time. "I thought it was Nyland +chasin' me for a while. Then I heard you talkin' to your horse an' I +knew it was you. Why don't you kill me?" + +"I reckon the Lord is doin' that," said Sanderson. + +"Yes--He is. Well, the Lord ain't ever done anything for me." + +He was silent for a moment. Then: + +"I want to tell you somethin', Sanderson. I've tried to hate you, but +I ain't never succeeded. I've admired you. I've cussed myself for +doin' it, but I couldn't help it. An' because I couldn't hate you, I +tried my best to do things that would make you hate me. + +"I've deviled Mary Bransford because I thought it would stir you up. I +don't care anything for her--it's Peggy Nyland that I like. Mebbe I'd +have done the square thing to her--if I'd been let alone--an' if she'd +have liked me. Peggy's better, ain't she? When I saw her after--after +I saw Maison layin' there, choked to----" + +"So you saw Maison--dead, you say?" + +"Ben Nyland guzzled him," Dale's lips wreathed in a cynical smile. +"Ben thought Maison had brought Peggy to his rooms. You knowed Maison +was dead?" + +Sanderson nodded. + +"Then you must have been to Okar." He groaned. "Where's Ben Nyland?" + +"In Okar. He's lookin' for you." Sanderson leaned closer to the man +and spoke sharply to him. "Look here, Dale; you were at the Double A. +What has become of Mary Bransford?" + +"She went away with Barney Owen--to Okar. Nobody hurt her," he said, +as he saw Sanderson's eyes glow. "She's all right--she's with her +brother." + +He saw Sanderson's eyes; they were filled with an expression of +incredulity; and a late moon, just showing its rim above the edge of +the mesa above them, flooded the slope with a brilliancy that made it +possible for Dale to see another expression in Sanderson's eyes--an +expression which told him that Sanderson thought his mind was wandering. + +He laughed, weakly. + +"You think I'm loco, eh? Well, I ain't. Barney Owen ain't Barney Owen +at all--he's Will Bransford. I found that out yesterday," he +continued, soberly, as Sanderson looked quickly at him. "I had some +men down to Tombstone way, lookin' him up. + +"When old Bransford showed me the letter that you took away from me, I +knew Will Bransford was in Tombstone; an' when Mary sent that thousand +to him I set a friend of mine--Gary Miller--onto him. Gary an' two of +his friends salivated young Bransford, but he turned up, later, minus +the money, in Tombstone. Another friend of mine sent me word--an' a +description of him. Barney Owen is Bransford. + +"Just what happened to Gary Miller an' his two friends has bothered me +a heap," went on Dale. + +"They was to come this way, to help me in this deal. But they never +showed up." + +Sanderson smiled, and Dale's eyes gleamed. + +"You know what's become of him!" he charged. "That's where you got +that thousand you give to Mary Bransford--an' the papers, showin' that +young Bransford was due here. Ain't it?" + +"I ain't sayin'," said Sanderson. + +"Well," declared Dale, "Barney Owen is Will Bransford. The night +Morley got him drunk we went the limit with Owen, an' he talked enough +to make me suspicious. That's why I sent to Tombstone to find out how +he looked. We had the evidence to show the court at Las Vegas. We was +goin' to prove you wasn't young Bransford, an' then we was goin' to put +Owen out of the--" + +Dale gasped, caught his breath, and stiffened. + +Sanderson stayed with him until the dawn, sitting, quietly beside him +until the end. Then Sanderson got up, threw the body on Dale's horse, +mounted his own, and set out across the basin toward Okar. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +A DEAL IN LOVE + +A few days later Mary Bransford, Sanderson, and Barney Owen were +sitting on the porch of the Double A ranchhouse, near where they had +sat on the day Mary and Owen and the Dale men had seen Sanderson riding +along the edge of the mesa in his pursuit of Williams and the others. + +Mary and Sanderson were sitting rather close together at one end of the +porch; Barney Owen was sitting near them, on the porch edge, his elbows +resting on his knees. + +There had been a silence between the three for some time, but at last +Sanderson broke it. He smiled at Mary. + +"We'll build that dam--an' the irrigation plant now, mebbe," he said. +"But it's goin' to be a big job. Williams says it will take a year, or +more." + +"There will be difficulties, too, I suppose," said Mary. + +"Sure." + +"But difficulties do not worry you," she went on, giving him a glowing +look. + +He blushed. "We promised each other not to refer to that again," he +protested. "You are breaking your promise." + +"I just can't help it!" she declared. "I feel so good over your +victory. Why, it really wasn't your affair at all, and yet you came +here, fought our fight for us; and then, when it is all over, you wish +us to say nothing about it! That isn't fair!" + +He grinned. "Was you fair?" he charged. + +"You told me the other day that you knew, the day after I ordered Dale +away from the Double A--after tellin' you that I wasn't what I claimed +to be--that Barney Owen wasn't Barney Owen at all, but your brother. + +"An' you let me go on, not tellin' me. An' he didn't do a heap of +talkin'. I ain't mentioned it until now, but I've wondered why? +Barney knew from the first day that I wasn't what I pretended to be. +Why didn't you tell me, Barney?" + +Mary was blushing, and Barney's face was red. His eyes met Mary's and +both pairs were lowered, guiltily. + +Barney turned to Sanderson. + +"Look at me!" he said. "Do I look like a man who could fight Dale, +Silverthorn, and Maison--and the gang they had--with any hope of +victory? When I got here--after escaping Gary Miller and the others--I +was all in--sick and weak. It didn't take me long to see how things +were. But I knew I couldn't do anything. + +"I was waiting, though, for Gary Miller and his friends to come, to +claim the Double A. I would have killed them. But they didn't come. +You came. + +"At first I was not sure what to think of you. But I saw sympathy in +your eyes when you looked at Mary, and when you told Dale that you were +Will Bransford, I decided to keep silent. You looked capable, and when +I saw that you were willing to fight for Mary, why--why--I just let you +go. I--I was afraid that if I'd tell you who I was you'd throw up the +whole deal. And so I didn't say anything." + +Sanderson grinned. "That's the reason you was so willin' to sign all +the papers that wanted Will Bransford's signature. I sure was a +boxhead for not tumblin' to that." + +He laughed, meeting Mary's gaze and holding it. + +"Talkin' of throwin' up the deal," he said. "That couldn't be. Dale +an' Silverthorn an' Maison an' their gang of cutthroats couldn't make +me give it up. There's only one person could make me do that. She'd +only have to say that she don't think as much of me as I think she +ought to. And, then----" + +"She'll keep pretty silent about that, I think," interrupted Owen, +grinning at the girl's crimson face. + +"I wouldn't be takin' your word for it," grinned Sanderson, "it +wouldn't be reliable." + +"Why--" began Mary, and looked at Owen. + +"Sure," he laughed, "I'll go and take a walk. There are times when +three can't explain a thing as well as two." + +There was a silence following Owen's departure. + +Then Mary looked shyly at Sanderson, who was watching her with a smile. + +"Does it need any explaining?" she began. "Can't you see that----" + +"Shucks, little girl," he said gently, as he leaned toward her, "words +ain't--well, words ain't so awful important, are they?" + +Apparently words were not important. For within the next few minutes +there were few spoken. And progress was made without them. And then: + +"I believe I never was so happy as when I saw you, that morning, coming +in to Okar with Dale's body, and you said you had not killed him. And +if Barney--Will, had killed him that day--if he had really hanged him, +and Dale had died from it--I should have kept seeing Dale as he was +hanging there all my life." + +"It was Dale's day," said Sanderson. + +"And Okar's!" declared the girl. "The town has taken on a new spirit +since those men have left. And the whole basin has changed. Men are +more interested and eager. There is an atmosphere of fellowship that +was absent before. And, oh, Deal, how happy I am!" + +"You ain't got anything on me!" grinned Sanderson. + +And presently, looking toward the rim of the mesa, they saw Williams +and his men coming toward them from Lazette, with many wagons, loaded +with supplies and material for the new dam, forecasting a new day and a +new prosperity for the Double A--and themselves. + +"That's for a new deal," said Sanderson, watching the wagons and men. + +"Wrong," she laughed, happily, "it is all for a 'Square' Deal!" + +"All?" he returned, grinning at her. + +"All," she repeated, snuggling close to him. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SQUARE DEAL SANDERSON*** + + +******* This file should be named 16597.txt or 16597.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/5/9/16597 + + + +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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