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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/19055-8.txt b/19055-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..af85c3c --- /dev/null +++ b/19055-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7982 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Steve Yeager, by William MacLeod Raine + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Steve Yeager + +Author: William MacLeod Raine + +Release Date: August 16, 2006 [EBook #19055] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STEVE YEAGER *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Distributed Proofreading +Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +STEVE YEAGER +BY +WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE + +NEW YORK +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS + +Made in the United States of America + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +[Illustration: RUTH] + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Contents + + I STEVE MAKES A MISTAKE 1 + II "ENOUGH'S A-PLENTY" 10 + III CHAD HARRISON 25 + IV THE EXTRA 33 + V YEAGER ASKS ADVICE 42 + VI PLUCKING A PIGEON 56 + VII STEVE TELLS TOO MUCH TRUTH 71 + VIII THE HEAVY GETS HIS TIME 79 + IX GABRIEL PASQUALE 86 + X A NIGHT VISIT 96 + XI CHAD DECIDES TO GET BUSY 112 + XII INTO THE DESERT 121 + XIII THE NIGHT TRAIL 131 + XIV THE CAVE MEN 140 + XV STEVE WINS A HAM SANDWICH 153 + XVI THE HEAVY PAYS A DEBT 166 + XVII PEDRO CABENZA 175 + XVIII HARRISON OVERPLAYS HIS HAND 181 + XIX THE TEXAN 194 + XX NEAR THE END OF HIS TRAIL 207 + XXI A STAGE PREPARED FOR TRAGEDY 216 + XXII A CONSPIRACY 223 + XXIII TRAPPED 229 + XXIV THE PRISONER 247 + XXV THE TEXAN TAKES A LONG JOURNEY 257 + XXVI AT SUNSET 266 + XXVII CULVERA RECONSIDERS 274 +XXVIII AS LONG AS LIFE 284 + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +STEVE YEAGER + +CHAPTER I + +STEVE MAKES A MISTAKE + + +Steve Yeager held his bronco to a Spanish trot. Somewhere in front of +him, among the brown hill swells that rose and fell like waves of the +sea, lay Los Robles and breakfast. One solitary silver dollar, too +lonesome even to jingle, lay in his flatulent trouser pocket. After he +and Four Bits had eaten, two quarters would take the place of the big +cartwheel. Then would come dinner, a second transfer of capital, and his +pocket would be empty as a cow's stomach after a long drive. + +Being dead broke, according to the viewpoint of S. Yeager, is right and +fitting after a jaunt to town when one has a good job back in the hills. +But it happened he had no more job than a rabbit. Wherefore, to keep up +his spirits he chanted the endless metrical version of the adventures of +Sam Bass, who + + "... started out to Texas a cowboy for to be, + And a kinder-hearted fellow you scarcely ever'd see." + +Steve had not quit his job. It had quit him. A few years earlier the +Lone Star Cattle Company had reigned supreme in Dry Sandy Valley and +the territory tributary thereto. Its riders had been kings of the range. +That was before the tide of settlement had spilled into the valley, +before nesters had driven in their prairie schooners, homesteaded the +water-holes, and strung barb-wire fences across the range. Line-riders +and dry farmers and irrigators had pushed the cowpuncher to one side. +Sheep had come bleating across the desert to wage war upon the cattle. +Finally Uncle Sam had sliced off most of the acreage still left and +called it a forest reserve. + +Wherefore the Lone Star outfit had thrown up its hands, sold its +holdings, and moved to Los Angeles to live. Wherefore also Steve Yeager, +who did not know Darwin from a carburetor, had by process of evolution +been squeezed out of the occupation he had followed all of his +twenty-three years since he could hang on to a saddle-horn. He had +mournfully foreseen the end when the schoolhouse was built on Pine Knob +and little folks went down the road with their arms twined around the +waist of teacher. After grizzled Tim Sawyer made bowlegged tracks +straight for that schoolmarm and matrimony, his friends realized that +the joyous whoop of the puncher would not much longer be heard in the +land. The range-rider must dwindle to a farmer or get off the earth. +Steve was getting off the earth. + +Since Steve was of the sunburnt State, still a boy, and by temperament +incurably optimistic, he sang cheerfully. He wanted to forget that he +had eaten neither supper nor breakfast. So he carried Mr. Bass through +many adventures till that genial bandit + + "... sold out at Custer City and there got on a spree, + And a tougher lot of cowboys you never'd hope to see." + +Four Bits had topped a rise and followed the road down in its winding +descent. After the nomadic fashion of Arizona the trail circled around a +tongue of a foothill which here jutted out. Voices from just beyond the +bend startled Yeager. One of them was raised impatiently. + +"Won't do, Harrison. Be rougher. Throw her on her knees and tie her +hands." + +The itinerant road brought Steve in another moment within view. He saw a +girl picking poppies. Two men rode up and swung from their saddles. They +talked with her threateningly. She shrank back in fear. One of them +seized her wrists and threw her down. + +"Lively, now. Into the pit with her. Get the stuff across," urged a +short fat man with a cigar in his mouth who was standing ten or fifteen +yards back from the scene of action. + +Steve had put his horse at a gallop the moment the girl had been seized. +It struck him there was something queer about the affair,--something +not quite natural to which he could not put a name. But he did not stop +to reason out the situation. Dragging his pony to a slithering halt, he +leaped to the ground. + +"Get busy, Jackson. You ain't in a restaurant waiting for a meal," the +little fat man reminded one of his tools irritably. Then, as he caught +sight of Steve, "What the hell!" + +Yeager's left shot forward, all the weight and muscle of one hundred and +seventy pounds of live cowpuncher behind it. Villain Number One went to +the ground as if a battering-ram had hit him between the eyes. + +"Lay hands on a lady, will you?" + +Steve turned to Villain Number Two, who backed away rapidly in alarm. + +"What's eatin' you? We ain't hurtin' her any, you mutt." + +The girl, still crouched on the ground, turned with a nervous little +laugh to the man who had been directing operations:-- + +"What d'you know about that, Billie? The rube swallowed it all. You +gotta raise my salary." + +The cowpuncher felt in the pit of his stomach the same sensation he had +known when an elevator in Denver had dropped beneath his feet too +suddenly. The young woman was rouged and painted to the ears. Never in +its palmiest days had the 'Dobe Dollar's mirrors reflected a costume +more gaudy than the one she was wearing. The men too were painted and +dolled up extravagantly in vaqueros' costumes that were the limit of +absurdity. Had they all escaped from a madhouse? Or was he, Steve +Yeager, in a pipe-dream? + +From a near grove of cottonwoods half a dozen men in chaps came running. +Assured of their proximity, the fat little fellow pawed the air with +rage. + +"Ever see such rotten luck? Spoiled the whole scene. Say, you Rip Van +Winkle, think we came out here for the ozone?" + +One of the men joined the young woman, who was assisting the villain +Yeager had knocked out. The others crowded around him in excitement, all +expostulating at once. They were dressed wonderfully and amazingly as +cowpunchers, but they were painted frauds in spite of the careful +ostentation of their costumes. Steve's shiny leathers and dusty hat +missed the picturesque, but he looked indigenous and they did not. He +was at his restful ease, this slender, brown man, negligent, careless, +eyes twinkling but alert. The brand of the West was stamped indelibly on +him. + +"I ce'tainly must 'a' spilled the beans. Looks like I done barked up +the wrong tree," he drawled amiably. + +A man who had been standing on a box behind some kind of a masked +battery jumped down and joined the group. + +"Gee! I've got a bully picture of our anxious friend laying out +Harrison. Nothing phony about that, Threewit. Won't go in this reel, but +she'll make a humdinger in some other. Say, didn't Harrison hit the dust +fine! Funny you lads can't ever pull off a fall like that." + +An annoyed voice, both raucous and sneering, interrupted his enthusiasm. +"Just stick around, Mr. Camera Man, and you'll get a chance to do +another bit of real life that ain't faked. I'm goin' to hammer the head +off Buttinski presently." + +The camera man, an alert, boyish fellow as thin as a lath, turned and +grinned. Harrison was sitting up a little unsteadily. Burning black +eyes, set in sockets of extraordinary depths, blazed from a face +sinister enough to justify Steve's impression of him as a villain. The +shoulders of the man were very broad and set with the gorilla hunch; he +was deep-chested and lean-loined. His eyes shifted with a quick, furtive +menace. His companions might be imitation cowpunchers, but if Yeager was +any judge this was no imitation bad man. + +"Going to eat him alive, are you?" the camera man wanted to know +pleasantly. + +Steve pushed through to Harrison. A whimsical little smile of apology +crinkled the boyish face. + +"It's on me, compadre. I'm a rube, and anything else you like. And I +sure am sorry for going off half-cocked." + +A wintry frost was in the jet bead eyes that looked up at the puncher. +The sitting man did not recognize the extended hand. + +"You'll be a heap sorrier before I'm through with you," he growled. "I'm +goin' to beat your head off and learn you to mind your own business." + +"Interesting if true," retorted Steve lightly. "And maybeso you're +right. A man can't always most likely tell. Take a watermelon now. You +can't tell how good it is till you thump it. Same way with a man, I've +heard say." + +He turned to the young woman, whose bright brown eyes were lingering +upon him curiously. This was no novel experience to him. He wore his +splendid youth so jauntily and yet so casually that the gaze of a girl +was likely to be drawn in his direction a second and a third time. In +spite of his youthfulness there was in his face a certain +sun-and-wind-bitten maturity, a steadiness of the quiet eye that +promised efficiency. The film actress sensed the same competent +strength in the brown, untorn hand that assisted her to rise to her +feet. His friendly smile showed the flash of white, regular teeth. + +"The rube apologizes, ma'am. He's just in from Cactus Center and never +did see one of those moving-picture outfits before. Thirty-eleven things +were in sight as I happened round that bend, but the only one I glimmed +was you being mistreated. Corking chance for a grandstand play. So I +sailed in pronto. 'Course I should've known better, but I didn't." + +Maisie Winters was the name of the young woman. She played the leads in +one of the Southwest companies of the Lunar Film Manufacturers. Her +charming face was known and liked on the screens of several continents. +Now it broke into lines of mischievous amusement. + +"I don't mind if Mr. Harrison doesn't." She flashed a gay, inquiring +look toward that discomfited villain, who was leaning for support on his +accomplice Jackson and glaring at Yeager. Impudently she tilted her chin +back toward the puncher. "Are you always so--so impetuous? If so, +there's a fortune waiting for you in the moving-picture field." + +Yeager did not object to having so attractive a young woman as this one +poke fun at him. He grinned joyfully. + +"Me! I'm open to an engagement, ma'am." + +The short fat man whom Maisie Winters had called Billie looked sharply +at the cowpuncher out of shrewd gray eyes. + +"Where you been working?" he demanded abruptly. + +"With the Lone Star outfit." + +"Get fired?" + +"Company gone out of business--country getting too popular, what with +homesteaders, forest rangers, and Mary's little lamb," explained Steve. + +"Hm! Can you ride a bucker?" + +"I can pull leather and kinder stick on." + +"I'll try you out for a week at two-fifty a day if you like." + +"You've hired Steve Yeager," promptly announced the owner of that name. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +"ENOUGH'S A-PLENTY" + + +While driving his car back to Los Robles, Billie Threewit, producing +director at the border studio of the Lunar Film Manufacturers, indulged +in caustic comment on his own idiocy. + +"Now, what in hell did I take on this Yeager rube for? He had just +finished crabbing one scene. Wasn't that enough without me paying him +good money to spoil more? Harrison's sore on him too. There's going to +be trouble there. He ain't going to stand for that roughhouse stuff a +little bit." + +Frank Farrar, the camera man, took a more cheerful view of the +situation. + +"He's a find, if you ask me--the real thing in cowpunchers. And I don't +know as this outfit has to be run to please Harrison. The big bully has +got us all stepping sideways and tiptoeing so as not to offend him. I'm +about fed up with the brute. Wish this rube would mop the earth up with +him when Harrison gets gay." + +"No chance. Harrison's a bully all right, but he's one grand little +fighter too. You saw him clean up that bunch of greasers. He's there +with both feet on the Marquis of Q. business, and don't you forget it. +I put up with more from him than I ever did from a dozen other actors +because he's so mean when he's sulky." + +"Here too," agreed Farrar. "It's take your hat off when you speak to Mr. +Chad Harrison. I can't yell at him that he's getting out of the picture; +I've got to pull the Alphonse line of talk.--'Mr. Harrison, if you'd be +so kind as to get that left hind hoof of yours six inches more to the +right.' He makes me good and weary." + +"He gets his stuff across good. Wasn't for that I wouldn't stand for him +a minute. But we're down here, son, to get this three-reel Mexican war +dope. As long as Harrison delivers the goods we'll have to put up with +him." + +"Well, I'm going to give this Yeager lad a tip what he's up against. +Then if he wants to he can light out before Harrison gets to him." + +Farrar was as good as his word. As soon as he reached the hotel he +dropped around to the room where the new extra was staying. His knock +brought no answer, but as the door was ajar the camera man stepped +across the threshold. + +Steve lay on the bed asleep, his lithe, compact figure stretched at +negligent ease. The flannel shirt was open at the throat, the strong +muscles of which sloped beautifully into the splendid shoulders. There +was strength in the clean-cut jaw of the brown face. It was an easy +guess that he had wandered by paths crooked as well as straight, that he +had taken the loose pleasures of his kind joyously. But when he had +followed forbidden trails it had been from the sheer youthful exuberance +of life in him and not from weakness. Farrar judged that the heart of +the young vagabond was sound, that the desert winds and suns had kept +his head washed clean of shameful thoughts. + +The cowpuncher opened his eyes. He looked at his visitor without +speaking. + +"Didn't expect to find you asleep," apologized the camera man. + +Yeager got up and stretched his supple body in a yawn. "That's all +right. Just making up the sleep I lost last night on the road. No matter +a-tall." + +He was in blue overalls, the worn shiny chaps tossed across the back of +a chair. On the table lay the dusty, pinched-in hat, through the +disreputable crown of which Farrar had lately seen a lock of his brindle +hair rising like an aigrette. + +"Glad to have you join us. We need riders like you. Say, it was worth +five dollars to me to see the way you laid out Harrison." + +The cowpuncher's boyish face clouded. + +"I'm right sorry about that. It ce'tainly was a fool play. I don't blame +Harrison for getting sore." + +"He's sore all right. That's what I came to see you about. He's a rowdy, +Harrison is. And he'll make you trouble." + +"Most generally I don't pack a gun," Yeager observed casually. + +"It won't be a gun play; not to start with, anyhow. He used to be a +prizefighter. He'll beat you up." + +"Well, it don't hurt a man's system to absorb a licking once in a blue +moon." + +The cowpuncher said it smilingly, with a manner of negligent competence +that came from an experience of many dangers faced, of many perilous +ways safely trodden. + +Farrar had not yet quite discharged his mind. "There's nothing to +prevent you from slipping round to the stable and pulling your freight +quietly." + +"Except that I don't want to," added the new extra. "No, sir. I've got a +job and I'm staying with it. I'll sit here like a horned toad till the +boss gives me my time." + +The camera man beamed. To meet so debonair and care-free a specimen of +humanity warmed the cockles of his heart. + +"I'll bet you're some scrapper yourself," he suggested. + +"Oh, no. He'll lick me, I reckon. Say, what do they hold you up for at +this hacienda?" + +The lank camera man supplied information, adding that he knew of a good +cheap boarding-place where one or two of the company put up. + +"If you say so, I'll take you right round there." + +Yeager reached promptly for his hat. "You talk like a dollar's worth of +nickels rattling out of a slot machine--right straight to the point." + +They walked together down the white, dusty street, crossed the outskirts +of the old Mexican adobe town, and came to a suburb of bungalows. In +front of one of these Farrar stopped. He unlatched the gate. + +"Here we are." + +There was an old-fashioned garden of roses and mignonettes and +hollyhocks, with crimson ramblers rioting over the wire trellis in front +of the broad porch. A girl with soft, thick, blue-black hair was bending +over a rosebush. She was snipping dead shoots with a pair of scissors. +At the sound of their feet crunching the gravel of the walk, her slender +figure straightened and she turned to them. The ripe lips parted above +pearly teeth in a smile of welcome to the camera man. + +"I've come begging again, Miss Ruth," explained Farrar. "This is Mr. +Yeager, a new member of our company. He wants to find a good +boarding-place, so of course I thought of your mother. Don't tell me +that you can't take him." + +A little frown of doubt furrowed her forehead. "I don't know, Mr. +Farrar. Our tables are about full. I'll ask mother." + +The eyes of the girl rested for an instant on the brown-faced youth +whose application the camera man was backing. He had taken off his hat, +and the sun-pour was on his tawny hair, on the lean, bronzed face and +broad, muscular shoulders. In his torn, discolored hat, his stained and +travel-worn clothes, he looked a very prince of tramps. But in his +quiet, steady gaze was the dynamic spark of self-respect that forebade +her to judge him by his garb. + +A faint flush burned in the dusky cheeks to which the long lashes +drooped because of a touch of embarrassment. He had seemed to read her +hesitation with an inner amusement that found expression in his +gray-blue eyes. + +"Tell her I'll be much obliged if she'll take me," Yeager said in his +gentle drawl. + +Considering his request, she stripped the gauntlet without purpose from +one of her little brown hands. A solitaire sparkled on the third finger. +Again she murmured, "I'll ask mother"; then turned and flashed up the +steps, her slender limbs carrying with fluent grace the pliant young +body. + +Presently appeared on the porch a plump, matronly woman of a wholesome +cleanness without and within. Judging by fugitive dabs of flour which +decorated her temple and her forehead, she had been making bread or pies +at the time she had been called by her daughter. Much of her life she +had lived in the Southwest, and one glance at Yeager was enough to +satisfy her. Through the dust and tarnished clothes of him youth shone +resplendent. The sun was still in his brindle hair, in his gay eyes. She +had a boy of her own, and the heart of her warmed to him. + +In five sentences they had come to an arrangement. The barn behind the +house had been remodeled so that it contained several bedrooms. Into one +of these Yeager was to move his scant effects at once. + +He and Farrar walked back to the hotel together. Harrison was waiting +for them on the porch. As soon as he caught sight of the cowpuncher he +strode forward. The straight line of his set mouth looked like a gash in +a melon. + +"Will you have it here or back of the garage?" he demanded, getting +straight to business. + +"Any place that suits you," agreed Steve affably. "Won't the bulls pinch +us if we do a roughhouse here?" + +Harrison turned with triumphant malice to Farrar. + +"Get your camera. You say you don't like phony stuff. Good enough. I'll +pull off the real goods for you in licking a rube. There's plenty of +room back of the garage." + +The camera man protested. "See here, Harrison. Yeager ain't looking for +trouble. He told you he was sorry. It was an accident. What's the use of +bearing a grudge?" + +The heavy glared at him. "You in this, Mr. Farrar? You're liable to have +a heluvatime if you butt into my business without an invite. Shack--and +git that camera." + +Yeager nodded to his new friend. "Go ahead and get it. We'll be waiting +back of the garage." + +Farrar hesitated, the professional instinct in him awake and active. + +"If you're dead keen on a mix-up, Harrison, why not come over to the +studio where I can get the best light? We'll make an indoor set of it." + +"Go you," promptly agreed Harrison. His vanity craved a picture of him +thrashing the extra, a good one that the public could see and that he +could afterwards gloat over himself. + +Yeager laughed in his slow way. "I'm to be massa-creed to make a Roman +holiday, am I? All right. Might as well begin earning that two-fifty per +I've been promised." + +The news spread, as if on the wings of the wind. Before Farrar had a +stage arranged to suit him and his camera ready, a dozen members of the +company drifted in with a casual manner of having arrived accidentally. +Fleming Lennox, leading man, appeared with Cliff Manderson, chief +comedian for the Lunar border company. Baldy Cummings, the property man, +strolled leisurely in to look over some costumes. But Steve observed +that he was panting rapidly. + +As he sat on a soap box waiting for Farrar to finish his preparations, +Yeager became aware that Lennox was watching him closely. He did not +know that the leading man would cheerfully have sacrificed a week's +salary to see Harrison get the trimming he needed. The handsome young +film actor was an athlete, a trained boxer, but the ex-prizefighter had +given him the thrashing of his life two months before. He simply had +lacked the physical stamina to weather the blows that came from those +long, gorilla-like arms with the weight of the heavy, rounded shoulders +back of them. The fight had not lasted five minutes. + +"Shapes well," murmured Manderson, nodding toward the new extra. + +The leading man agreed without much hope. He conceded the boyish +cowpuncher a beautiful trim figure, with breadth of shoulder, grace of +poise, and long, flowing muscles that rippled under the healthy skin +like those of a panther in motion. But these would serve him little +unless he was an experienced boxer. Harrison had tremendous strength +and power; moreover, he knew the game from years of battle in the ring. + +"He'll lose--won't be able to stand the gaff," Lennox replied gloomily, +his eyes fixed on Yeager as the young fellow rose lightly and moved +forward to meet his opponent. + +The extra was as tall as Harrison, but he looked like a boy beside him, +so large and massive did the heavy bulk. The contrast between them was +so great that Yeager was scarcely conceded a fighting chance. Steve +himself knew quite well that he was in for a licking at the hands of +this wall-eyed Hercules with the leathery brown face. + +He got it, efficiently and scientifically, but not before Harrison had +found out he was in a fight. The big man disdained any defense except +that which went naturally with his crouch. He had a tremendously long +reach and knew how to get the weight of his shoulders behind his +punishing blows. Usually Harrison did all the fighting. The other man +was at the receiving end. + +It was a little different this time. Yeager met his first rush with a +straight left that got home and jarred the prizefighter to his heels. To +see the look on the face of the heavy, compound of blank astonishment +and chagrin, was worth the price of admission. + +Lennox sang out encouragement. "Good boy. Go to him." + +Harrison put his head down and rushed. His arms worked like flails. They +beat upon Steve's body and face as a hammer does upon an anvil. Only by +his catlike agility and the toughness born of many clean years in the +saddle did the cowpuncher weather for the time the hurricane that lashed +at him. He dodged and ducked and parried by instinct, smothering what +blows he could, evading those he might, absorbing the ones he must. Out +of that first mêlée he came reeling and dizzy, quartering round and +round before the panting professional. + +The bully enraged was not a sight pleasant to see. He was too near akin +to the primeval brute. He glared savagely at his victim, who grinned +back at him with an indomitable jauntiness. + +"This is the life," the cowpuncher assured his foe cheerfully after +dodging a blow that was like the kick of a mule. + +Harrison rocked him with a short stiff uppercut. "Glad you like it," he +jeered. + +Yeager crossed with his right, catching him flush on the cheek. "Here's +your receipt for the same," he beamed. + +Like a wild bull the prizefighter was at him again. He beat down the +cowpuncher's defense and mauled him savagely with all the punishing +skill of his craft. Steve was a man of his hands. He had held his own in +many a rough-and-tumble bout. But he had no science except that which +nature had given him. As long as a man could, he stood up to Harrison's +trained skill. When at last he was battered to the ground it was because +the strength had all oozed out of him. + +Harrison stood over him, swaggering. "Had enough?" + +Where he had been flung, against one of the studio walls, Steve sat +dizzily, his head reeling. He saw things through a mist in a queer jerky +way. But still a smile beamed on his disfigured face. + +"Surest thing you know." + +"Don't want some more of the same?" jeered the victor. + +"Didn't hear me ask for more, did you? No, an' you won't either. Me, I +love a scrap, but I don't yearn for no encore after I've been clawed by +a panther and chewed up by a threshing-machine and kicked by an +able-bodied mule into the middle o' next week. Enough's a-plenty, as old +Jim Butts said when his second wife died." + +The prizefighter looked vindictively down at him. He was not satisfied, +though he had given the range-rider such a whaling as few men could +stand up and take. For the conviction was sifting home to him that he +had not beaten the man at all. His pile-driver blows had hammered down +his body, but the spirit of him shone dauntless out of the gay, +unconquerable eyes. + +With a sullen oath Harrison turned away. His sulky glance fell upon +Lennox, who was clapping his hands softly. + +"You'd be one grand little fighter, Yeager, if you only knew how," the +leading man said with enthusiasm. + +"Mebbe you'd like to teach him, Mr. Lennox," sneered Harrison. + +The star flushed. "Maybe I would, Mr. Harrison." + +"Or perhaps you'd rather show him how it's done." + +Lennox looked, straight at him. "Nothing doing. And I serve notice right +here that I'll have no more trouble with you. If it's got to come to +that either you or I will quit the company." + +The bully's eyes narrowed. "Which one of us?" + +"It'll be up to Threewit to pass on that." + +Harrison put on his coat and slouched sulkily out of the building. He +knew quite well that if it came to a choice between him and Lennox the +director would sacrifice him without a moment's consideration. + +Farrar, who had been grinding out pictures since the beginning of +hostilities, came forward to greet Yeager with a little whoop of joy. + +"Say, you sure go some, Cactus Center. I never did see a fellow eat up +such a licking and come up smiling. You're certainly one Mellin's Food +baby. I'm for you--strong." + +One of Steve's eyes was closing rapidly, but the other had not lost its +twinkle. + +"Does a fellow's system good to assimilate a tanning oncet in a +while--sort o' corrects any mistaken notions he's liable to collect. +Gentlemen, hush! Ain't Harrison the boss eat-em-alive white hope that +ever turkey-trotted down the pike?" + +The melancholy Manderson smiled. "You make a hit with me, Arizona. If I +were in your place I'd be waiting for the undertaker. You look like +you'd out come of a railroad wreck, two fires, and a cattle stampede +over your carcass. Here, boys, hustle along first aid to our friend the +punching-bag." + +They got him water and towels and a sponge. Steve, protesting +humorously, submitted to their ministrations. He was grateful for the +friendliness that prompted their kindness. The atmosphere had subtly +changed. During the afternoon he had sensed a little aloofness, an +intention on the part of the company members to stand off until they +knew him better. Now the ice was melted. They had taken him into the +family. He had passed with honors his preliminary examination. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +CHAD HARRISON + + +As soon as Steve stepped into the dining-room he knew that the story of +his fight with Harrison had preceded him. His battered face became an +immediate focus of curious veiled glances. These exhibited an animated +interest rather than surprise. + +Mrs. Seymour introduced him in turn to each of the other boarders, and +the furtive looks stared for a moment their frank questions at him. As +he drew in his chair beside a slender, tanned young woman, he knew with +some amusement that his arrival had interrupted a conversation of which +he had been the theme. + +The film actress seated beside Yeager must have been in her very early +twenties, but her pretty face, finely modeled, had the provocative +effrontery that is the note of twentieth-century young womanhood. Its +audacity, which was the quintessence of worldliness, held an alert +been-through-it-all expression. + +"I hope you like Los Robles, Mr. Yeager. Some of us don't, you know," +she suggested. + +"Like it fine, Miss Ellington," he answered with enthusiasm, accepting +from Ruth Seymour a platter of veal croquettes. + +Daisy Ellington slanted mischievous eyes toward him. "Not much doing +here. It's a dead little hole. You'll be bored to death--if you haven't +been already." + +"Me! I've found it right lively," retorted Steve, his eyes twinkling. +"Had all the excitement I could stand for one day. You see I come from +way back in the cow country, ma'am." + +"And I came from New York," she sighed. "When it comes to little old +Broadway I'm there with bells on. What d'you mean, cow country? Ain't +this far enough off the map? Say, were you ever in New York?" + +"Oncet. With a load of steers my boss was shipping to England. Lemme +see. It was three years ago come next October." + +"Three years ago. Why, that was when I was in the pony ballet with +'Adam, Eve, and the Apple.' Did you see the show?" + +"Bet I did." + +Her eyes sparkled. "I was in the first row, third from the left in the +'Good-Night' chorus. Some kick to that song, wasn't there?" + +"I should say yes. We're old friends, then, aren't we?" exclaimed Yeager +promptly. He buried her little hand in his big brown paw, a friendly +smile beaming through the disfigurements of his bruised face. + +"He didn't do a thing to you, did he?" she commented, looking him over +frankly. + +"Not a thing--except run me through a sausage-grinder, drop me out of +one of these aeroplanes, hammer my haid with a pile-driver, and jounce +me up and down on a big pile of sharp rocks. Outside of trifles like +that I had it all my own way." + +"I don't see any alfalfa in _your_ hair," she laughed. Then, lowering +her voice discreetly, she added: "Harrison's a brute. I'll tell you +about him some time when Ruth isn't round." + +"Ruth!" Steve glanced at the young girl who moved about the room with +such rhythmic grace helping the Chinese waiter serve her mother's +guests. "What has she got to do with Harrison?" + +"Engaged to him--that's all. See that sparkler on her finger? Wouldn't +it give you a jolt that a nice little girl like her would take up with a +stiff like Harrison?" + +"What's her mother thinking about?" asked the cowpuncher under cover of +the conversation that was humming briskly all around the tables. + +Daisy lifted her shoulders in a careless little shrug. "Oh, her mother! +What's she got to do with it? Harrison has hypnotized the kid, I guess. +He throws a big chest, and at that he ain't bad-looking. He's one man +too, if he is a rotten bad lot." + +The young woman breezed on to another subject in the light, inconsequent +fashion she had, and presently deserted Yeager to meet the badinage of +an extra sitting at an adjoining table. + +After dinner Steve went to his new quarters to get a cigar he had left +on the table. It was one Farrar had given him. He was cherishing it +because his financial assets had become reduced to twenty cents and he +did not happen to know when pay-day was. + +Yeager climbed the barn stairs humming a range song:-- + + "Black Jack Davy came a-riding along, + Singing a song so gayly, + He laughed and sang till the merry woods rang + And he charmed the heart of a lady, + And he charmed--" + +Abruptly he pulled up in his stride and in his song. Ruth Seymour was in +the room putting new sheets and pillow-cases on the bed. + +"I haven't had time before. I didn't think you would be through dinner +so soon," she explained in a voice soft and low. + +"That's all right. I only dropped up to get a cigar I left on the table. +Don't let me disturb you." + +Her troubled eyes rested on the strong, lean face that went so well with +the strong, lean body. One eye was swollen and almost shut. Red bruises +glistened on the forehead and the cheeks. A bit of plaster stretched +diagonally above the right cheekbone where the prizefighter's knuckles +had cut a deep gash. Little ridges covered his countenance as if it had +been a contour map of a mountainous country. But through all the havoc +that had been wrought flashed his white teeth in a cheerful smile. + +The girl's lip trembled. "I'm sorry you--were hurt." + +He flashed a quick look at her. "Sho! Forget it, Miss Seymour. I wasn't +hurt any--none to speak of. It don't do a big husky like me any harm to +be handed a licking." + +"You--hit him first, didn't you?" + +"Yes, ma'am,--knocked him out cold before he knew where he was at. He +was entitled to a come-back. I'm noways hos-tile to him because he's a +better man than I am." + +She stood with the pillow in her hands, shy as a fawn, but with a +certain resolution, too, the trouble of her soul still reflected on the +sweet face. + +"Why do men--do such things?" she asked with a catch of her breath. + +He scratched his curly head in apologetic perplexity. "Search me. I +reckon the cave man is lurking around in most of us. We hadn't ought to. +That's a fact." + +"It was all a mistake, Miss Ellington says. You thought he was hurting +Miss Winters. Why didn't you tell him you were sorry? Then it would have +been all right." + +The cowpuncher did not bat an eye at this innocent suggestion. + +"That's right. Why didn't I think of that? Then of course he would have +laid off o' me." + +"He--Mr. Harrison--is quick-tempered. I suppose all brave men are. But +he's generous, too. If you had explained--" + +"I reckon you're right. He sure is generous, even in the whalings he +gives. But don't worry about me. I'm all right, and much obliged for +your kindness in asking." + +Steve found his cigar and retired. He carried with him in memory a +picture of a troubled young creature with soft, tender eyes gleaming +starlike from beneath waves of dark hair. + +Yeager met Harrison swaggering up the gravel walk toward the house. A +malevolent gleam lit in the cold black eyes of the bully. + +"How you feeling, young fella?" + +"A hundred and eighty years old," answered the cowpuncher promptly with +a grin. "Every time I open my mouth my face cracks. You ce'tainly did +give me a proper trimming. I don't know sic-'em about this scientific +fight game." + +Harrison scowled. "There's more at the same address any time you need +it." + +"Not if I see you coming in time to make a getaway," retorted Steve with +a laugh. + +As the range-rider passed lightly down the walk there drifted back to +the prizefighter the words of a cowboy song:-- + + "Oh, bury me out on the lone prairee, + In a narrow grave just six by three, + Where the wild coyotes will howl o'er me-- + Oh, bury me out on the lone prairee." + +Harrison ripped out an oath. There was a note of gentle irony about the +minor strain of the song that he resented. He had given this youth the +thrashing of his life, but he had apparently left his spirit quite +uncrushed. What he liked was to have men walk in fear of him. + +The song presently died on the lips of Steve. Harrison was on his way to +call on Ruth. The man had somehow won her promise to marry him. It was +impossible for Yeager to believe that the child knew what she was doing. +To think of her as the future wife of Chad Harrison moved him to +resentment at life's satiric paradoxes. To give this sweet young +innocent to such a man was to mate a lamb with a tiger or a wolf. The +outrage of it cried to Heaven. What could her mother be thinking of to +allow such a wanton sacrifice? + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE EXTRA + + +From the first Yeager enjoyed his work with the Lunar Company. Young and +full-blooded, he liked novelty and adventure, life in the open, new +scenes and faces. As a film actor he did not have to seek sensations. +They came to him unsought. He had the faculty of projecting himself with +all his mind into the business of the moment, so that he soon knew what +it was to be a noble and self-conscious hero as well as an unmitigated +villain. + +One day he was a miner making his last stand against a band of Mexican +banditti, the next he was crawling through the mesquite to strike down +an intrepid ranger who laughed at death. He fought desperate single +combats, leaped from cliffs into space or across bridgeless chasms, took +part in dozens of sets illustrating scenes of frontier life as Billy +Threewit conceived these. Sometimes Steve smiled. The director's ideas +had largely been absorbed in New York from reading Western fiction. But +so long as he drew down his two-fifty a day and had plenty of fun doing +it, Steve was no stickler for naked realism. The "bad men" of Yeager's +acquaintance had usually been quiet, soft-spoken citizens, notable +chiefly for a certain chilliness of the eye and an efficient economy of +expression that eliminated waste. Those that Threewit featured were of a +different type. They strutted and bragged and made gun plays on every +possible occasion. + +Perhaps this was why Harrison's stuff got across. By nature a swaggering +bully, he had only to turn loose his real impulses to register what the +director wanted of a bad man. In the rough-and-tumble life he had led, +it had been Yeager's business to know men. He made no mistake about +Harrison. The fellow might be a loud-mouthed braggart; none the less he +would go the limit. The man was game. + +Lennox met Steve one day as the latter was returning from the property +room with a saddle Threewit had asked him to adjust. The star stopped +him good-naturedly. + +"Care to put the gloves on with me some time, Yeager?" + +The cowpuncher's face brightened. "I sure would. The boys say you're the +best ever with the mitts." + +"I'm a pretty good boxer, but I don't trail in your class as a fighter. +What you need is to take some lessons. If you'd care to have me show you +what I know--" + +"Say, you've rung the bell first shot." + +"Come up to the hotel to-night, then. No need advertising it. Harrison +might pick another quarrel with you to show you what you don't know." + +Steve laughed. "He's ce'tainly one tough citizen. He can look at a pine +board so darned sultry it begins to smoke. All right. Be up there +to-night, Mr. Lennox." + +From that day the boxing lessons became a regular thing. The claim +Lennox had made for himself had scarcely done him justice. He was one of +the best amateur boxers in the West. In Yeager he had a pupil quick to +learn. The extra was a perfect specimen physically, narrow of flank, +broad of shoulder, with the well-packed muscles of one always trained to +the minute. Fifteen years in the saddle had given him a toughness of +fiber no city dweller could possibly equal. Nights under the multiple +stars in the hills, cool, invigorating mornings with the pine-filled air +strong as wine in his clean blood, long days of sunshine full of action, +had all contributed to make him the young Hermes that he was. Cool and +wary, supple as a wildcat, light as a dancing schoolgirl on his feet, he +had the qualities which go to help both the fighter and the boxer. +Lennox had never seen a man with more natural aptitude for the sport. + +Sometimes Farrar was present at these lessons. Often Baldy Cummings, who +liked the cowpuncher because Steve was always willing to help him get +the properties ready for the required sets, would put on the gloves with +him and try him out for a round or two. Manderson, the melancholy +comedian, occasionally dropped in with some other member of the company. + +The same thought was in the mind of all of them except Yeager himself. +The extra was being trained to meet Harrison. It was apparent to all of +them that the prizefighter was nursing a grudge. The jaunty insouciance +of the young range-rider irritated him as a banderilla goads a bull in +the ring. + +"Steve gets under his hide. Some day he's going to break loose again," +Farrar told Manderson as they watched Lennox and Yeager box. + +"The kid shapes fine. If Mr. Chad Harrison waits long enough he's liable +to find himself in trouble when he tackles that young tiger cub," +answered the comedian. "Ever see anybody quicker on his feet? Reminds me +of Jim Corbett when he was a youngster." + +The news of the boxing lessons traveled to Harrison. He set his heavy +jaw and waited. He intended that Yeager should go to the hospital after +their next mix-up. + +Meanwhile he found other causes for disliking the new man. Always a +vain man, his jealousy was inflamed because Steve was a better rider +than he. At any time he was ready with a sneer for what he called the +cowpuncher's "grandstanding." + +"It gets across, Harrison," Threewit told him bluntly one day. "We've +never had a rider whose work was so snappy. He's doing fine." + +"Watch him blow up one of these days--nothing to him," growled the +heavy. + +"There's a whole lot to him," disagreed the producing director as he +walked away to superintend the arrangement of a set. + +Several days after this some new horses were added to the remuda of the +Lunar Company. Harrison picked a young mustang to ride in a chase scene +they were going to pull off. The pony was a wiry buckskin with powerful +flanks and withers. The prizefighter was no sooner in the saddle than it +developed that the animal had not been half broken. It took to pitching +at once and presently spilled the rider. + +Steve, sitting on the corral fence with Jackson and Orman, two other +riders for the company, called across cheerfully,-- + +"Not hurt, are you?" + +The heavy got up swearing. "Any of your damned business, is it?" + +He caught at the pony bridle, jerked it violently, and hammered the +lifted head of the dancing mustang with his fist. After several attempts +he succeeded in kicking its ribs. Yeager said nothing, but his eyes +gleamed. In the cow country men interfere rarely when a vicious rider +abuses his mount, but such a man soon finds himself under an unvoiced +ban. + +Harrison backed the mustang to a corner, swung to the saddle, and tugged +savagely at the reins. Two minutes later he took the dust again. The +horse had spent the interval in a choice variety of pitching that +included sun-fishing, fence-rowing, and pile-driving. + +To Jackson Steve made comment. "Most generally it don't pay to beat up a +horse. A man's liable to get piled, and if he gets tromped on folks +don't go into mourning." + +Harrison could not hear the words, but he made a fair guess at their +meaning. He turned toward Yeager with a snarl. + +"Got anything to say out loud, young fella?" + +"Only that any horse is likely to act that way when it gets its back up. +I wouldn't ride a horse without any spirit." + +"Think you can ride this one, mebbe?" + +Without speaking Yeager slid down from the fence and approached the +mustang. The animal backed away, muscles a-tremble and eyes full of +fear. Steve's movements were slow, but not doubtful. He stroked the +pony's neck and gentled it. His low voice murmured soft words into the +alert ear cocked back suspiciously. Then, without any haste or +unevenness of motion, he swung up and dropped gently into the saddle. + +For an instant the horse stood trembling. Yeager leaned forward and +patted the neck of the colt softly. His soothing voice still comforted +and reassured. Gradually its terror subsided. + +"Open the gate," Steve called to Orman. + +He rode out to the creosote flats and cantered down the road. A quarter +of an hour later he swung from the saddle beside Threewit. + +"Plumb gentle. You can make any horse a devil when you're one yourself." + +They were standing in front of the stable. Threewit started to reply, +but the words were taken out of his mouth. From out of the stable strode +Harrison, a cold anger in his eyes. + +"That's your opinion, is it?" + +Yeager's light blue eyes met his steadily. "You've heard it." + +"I've heard other things, too. You're taking boxing lessons. You're +going to need them, my friend." + +"The sooner the quicker," answered Steve evenly. + +"You'll cut that out, both of you," ordered Threewit curtly. "I'll fire +you both if you don't behave." + +"I'm no school-kid, Threewit. I play my own hand. Sabe?" Harrison turned +his cold eyes on the range-rider. "And I serve notice right here that +next time my young rube friend and me mixes you'd better bring a basket +to gather up the pieces." + +Yeager brushed a fly languidly from his gauntlet. "That's twice he's +used the word 'friend.' I reckon he don't know I'm some particular who +calls me that." + +"That'll be enough, Yeager. Don't start anything here. We're a +moving-picture outfit, not a bunch of pugs." Briskly the director +changed the subject. "I want you to choose a couple of the boys and go +down to Yarnell's after a herd of cattle we're going to need in that +Tapidero Jim picture. If you need more help the old man will let you +have one or two of his riders." + +Harrison had turned to leave, but he stopped to examine the conchas on a +pair of leathers. Steve had a fleeting thought that the man was +listening; also that he was covering the fact with a manner of elaborate +carelessness. + +"Want I should start right away?" + +"Yep. Can you get back by to-morrow night?" + +"I reckon. Has Yarnell got 'em rounded up?" asked Yeager. + +"He telephoned me this morning they were ready." + +"Then we'd ought to reach Los Robles late to-morrow night if we hit the +trail steady." + +"Good enough. Who do you want to take with you?" + +"I'll take Shorty and Orman." + +The details were arranged on the spot. Harrison was still giving his +attention to the conchas on the chaps. They were made of 'dobe dollars. +He had seen Jackson wear them fifty times and had never before showed +the least interest in them. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +YEAGER ASKS ADVICE + + +Though Yeager had enjoyed immensely his month with the Lunar people, he +tasted again the dust of the drag-driver with a keen pleasure. He had +not yet been able to get it out of his mind that he was only playing at +work with the film company. When he heard some of the others complain +about long hours and dangerous stunts he wished they could have ridden +on the roundup for the Lone Star outfit about a week. Arizona had tanned +the complexions of the actors, but it had left most of them still soft +of muscle and fiber. The flabbiness of Broadway cannot be washed out of +the soul in a month. + +But to-day he felt he had done a man's work. It had been like old times. +The white dust of the desert had enwrapped them in clouds. The +untempered sun had beat down a palpitating heat upon dry sand wastes. +The hill cattle he was driving were as wild as deer. A dozen times some +lean steer had bolted and gone racing down a precipitous hillside like a +rabbit. As often Four Bits had wheeled in its tracks and pounded through +clutching cholla and down breakneck inclines after the escaping +three-year-old. Fierce cactus thorns had torn at the leather chaps as +horse and rider had ripped through them, zigzagging across the steep +mountain slope at a gallop, the pony now slithering down the shale with +braced forelegs, now taking washes and inclines with the surefooted +litheness of a cat. + +Now stars by millions roofed the velvet night. A big moon had climbed +out of a crotch of the purple hills and poured a silvery light into a +valley green and beautiful with the magic touch of spring. A grove of +suhuaro rose like ghostly candelabra from the hillside opposite. The +mesquite carried a wealth of dainty foliage. Even the flat-leafed +prickly pear blended into the soft harmony of the mellow night. + +Los Robles was still half a dozen miles away and the cattle were weary +from the long drive. For an hour they had seemed to smell water and the +leaders made a bee-line for it, bellowing with stretched necks as they +hurried forward. It was late when at last they reached the water-hole. + +"Time to throw off. We'll make camp in the cool of the morning," Yeager +called to Shorty. + +They built a fire of dead ironwood upon which they boiled coffee and +fried bacon. Bread they had brought with them. After eating, they lay at +ease and smoked. + +There was little danger of the tired cattle straying, but Yeager +divided his party so that they should take turn about night-herding. He +took the first watch himself. + +The stillness of the desert night was a thing to wonder at. The silence +of the great outdoors, of vast empty space, subdued the restlessness of +the cattle. Many a time before the range-rider had felt the fascination +of it creep into his blood as he had circled the sleeping herd murmuring +softly a Spanish love-song. By day the desert was often a place of +desolation and death, but under the mystic charm of night it was +transformed to a panorama of soft loveliness. + +He thought of many episodes in his short, turbid life. They flashed upon +the screen of his memory as did the pictures of the Lunar Company upon +the canvas. In his time he had mushed in Alaska, fought in Mexico, +driven stage at the Nevada gold-fields, and wandered into many a lawless +camp. Always he had answered the call of adventure regardless of where +it led. + +His thoughts were fugitive, inconsequent. Now they had to do with Daisy +Ellington, the New York chorus girl whose mobile, piquant face was +helping to make the Lunar reels popular. Steve was engaged in a +whirlwind flirtation with her which both of them were enjoying +extremely. He liked her slangy audacity, the frank good-fellowship with +which she had met him. Daisy was a good sport. She might pretend to sigh +for the lights of Manhattan, but she was having a tremendously good time +in Arizona. + +"Reach for the roof, friend. No, I wouldn't rock the boat if I was you. +Sit steady and don't move." + +The words came to Yeager low but imperative. Automatically his hands +went into the air even as he slewed his head to find out who was voicing +the curt command. A rope dropped over his arms and was jerked tight just +below the knees. Very cautiously a man emerged from behind a clump of +cholla. The first thing he did was to remove the automatic revolver from +the cowpuncher's chaps, the second to wind the rope tightly around his +legs. + +Steve made no comment, asked no questions. He knew that he would find +out all about it in time. Just now he was not running the show. + +"I expect your arms must be tired grabbin' at the stars. Drop 'em down +clost to your sides. That's fine. Lucky you didn't start anything +coarse, my friend." + +The man gave a low whistle, evidently a signal, then moved for the first +time within range of his prisoner's eyes. He was masked and wore a soft +black hat pulled well down over his forehead. A Mexican serape had been +flung carelessly across his well-built shoulders. + +Adroitly he bound Yeager's arms to his side by winding the rope round +and round his body, after which he knotted it tightly several times at a +point just between the shoulder blades. + +The range-rider observed that he was a heavy-set, powerful man of about +his own height. He wore plain shiny leather chaps and the usual +high-heeled boots of a cowpuncher. + +Presently three other men appeared out of the darkness, bringing with +them Orman and Shorty, both of whom, wakened out of a sound sleep, were +plainly surprised and disturbed. + +Shorty was protesting plaintively. "This here ain't no way to treat a +man. I ain't done nothin'. There ain't no occasion whatever for a gun +play. What d'you want, anyhow? I'm no bad hombre. And me sleepin' so +peaceable, too, when you shoved the hardware into my pantry, doggone +it." + +The three men in charge of Yeager's assistants were also masked. One of +them in particular drew Steve's eyes. He was a slight, short person with +the walk and bearing of a youth. He wore for a mask a red bandanna +handkerchief with figures, into which holes had been cut for the eyes. +The other two were Mexicans. + +The heavy-set man drew them aside and gave orders in a low voice. What +these were Yeager could not hear, but from the gesturing he judged the +leader of the band was giving explicit directions which he expected to +be obeyed to the letter. After tying up Shorty and Yeager, the Mexicans +and the younger man disappeared. The steady bawling of cattle that began +shortly after told what they were doing. The herd was being moved slowly +toward the south from its bedding-ground. + +Already Steve had suspected the true state of affairs. He needed nobody +to tell him now that the cattle were to be driven across the line into +Sonora to supply some of the guerilla insurgents operating in the wilds +of that state. Once they were safe in Mexico the cattle would be sold to +old Pasquale for a fraction of their real value, the money received in +exchange for them having been wrung by that old ruffian from some +prisoner he had put to the torture to give up his honest earnings. + +The man who had stayed to watch Yeager and his riders finished one cigar +and lit another. He held to a somber silence, smoking moodily, a +vigilant eye on his prisoners. Two or three times he looked at his watch +impatiently. It must have been close to midnight when he rose as if to +go. + +"I'm going back into the bushes," he announced. "If any of you fellas +make a move to free yourself inside of half an hour I'll guarantee you +die of lead poisoning sudden." + +They heard him moving away in the mesquite. + +Shorty swore softly. "What d' you know about this? Me, I've had +buck-ague for most three hours expecting that doggoned holdup to blow +the roof of my head off. I don't sabe his game, unless he's on the +rustle." + +"Hell! He's runnin' these cows into Sonora. It don't take any wiz to +guess that," answered Orman. + +Steve was already busy trying to free himself. He gave no credit to the +man's assertion that they would be watched from the bushes. The leader +of the rustlers was already half a mile away, lengthening the distance +between them at every stride of his galloping horse. The range-rider +knew that their horses had probably been driven away, but he knew, too, +that if Four Bits was within hearing of his whistle he could be depended +upon to answer. + +The cowpuncher had offered no resistance to being tied except a passive +one. He had kept his chest expanded as much as possible when the ropes +had been tightened and he had braced the muscles of his arm against the +pressure of the folds. Ten minutes of steady work released one arm. The +rest was a matter of a few moments. With his knife he slashed the ropes +that bound Shorty and Orman. + +Already his whistle had brought an answer from Four Bits. Five minutes +later Steve was astride the barebacked horse galloping across country +toward Los Robles. His friends he had left to follow on foot as best +they could. He had a very particular reason why he wanted to reach the +hotel as soon as possible. A suspicion had bitten into his mind. He +wanted to verify or dismiss it. + +An hour later Four Bits pounded down the main street of Los Robles. +Almost simultaneously Yeager brought the horse slithering to a halt and +with one lithe swing of his body landed on the ground in front of the +hotel porch. He ran up the steps and into the lobby. Behind his cage the +night clerk was drowsing. + +"Anybody come into the hotel the last thirty minutes?" Yeager asked +sharply. + +The clerk thought. "No, I reckon not. There was Mr. Simmons--but that +was most an hour since." + +"Nobody else?" + +"No. Why?" + +The range-rider turned to the stairs, took them three at a time, and +followed the corridor to Room 217. He hammered on the door with his +fist. + +A sleepy voice wanted to know who was there. + +"It's Steve Yeager, Mr. Threewit. I wanta see you." + +"You've got all to-morrow to see me in, haven't you?" + +"My business won't wait." + +Grumbling, the producing director got up. Presently he opened the door +and stood revealed in a dressing-gown over his pajamas. + +"What do you want, my anxious friend?" + +"We've been held up." + +"Held up!" A slow grin spread over Threewit's fat good-natured face. +"Well, I'll bet Mr. Holdup didn't get a mint off you lads." + +"He didn't bother with us. It was the cattle he wanted. They've driven +them across the line. At least, I reckon so." + +Threewit woke up instantly. "That's different. Unload your story, +Yeager." + +The extra told it in six sentences. + +"Of course you didn't know any of the holdups. They were masked, you +say?" + +"Yep." Steve's cool, steady eyes held those of the director. "But I've +got a fool notion just the same that I do know one of them. Come with me +to Harrison's room." + +"But--" + +"I'll do all the talking. Come along." + +"Now, see here, Yeager. Just because you and Harrison are at outs--" + +"Have I made any charges against him? Maybe I want to ask his advice. +Maybe he could help us straighten out this thing. Got to pull together, +haven't we?" A cynical light in the eyes of the young man contradicted +his words. + +Reluctantly the director followed the extra to the room of the heavy on +the third floor. Yeager knocked. He rapped again, and a third time. + +Drowsily a voice demanded what was wanted. Presently the door was flung +open and Harrison stood blinking in the doorway, heavy-eyed and +slumberous. + +"What's the row?" he growled, scowling at Yeager. + +"We were held up on the way from Yarnell's by rustlers. They drove the +cattle away and left us tied up." + +"That any reason why you should wake me in the middle of the night? I +ain't got your cattle under the bed." The heavy jaw of the prizefighter +stood out saliently. Unconsciously his figure had drooped to the crouch +of defense. His small black eyes were wary and defiant. + +The cowpuncher laughed, lightly and easily. "I'm only a kid. Mr. +Threewit comes from the East and don't know anything about this +rustling game. We thought of you right away." + +"What do you mean you thought of me?" + +Yeager's eyes were innocent and steady. "Why, o' course we came to you +for advice--to ask you what we'd better do." + +"Oh! That's it, eh?" Was there the faintest flitter of relief on the +lowering face? Steve could not be sure. "Well, I'll dress and join you +downstairs, Mr. Threewit. With you in a minute." + +"We got no time to lose. Mind if we talk here, Harrison?" Without +waiting for permission the extra pushed into the room and began his +story. "Must 'a' been about six miles back that we threw off the trail +and camped. I figured on getting in early in the forenoon. Well, I was +night-herding when I got orders to punch a hole in the atmosphere with +my fists. I didn't do a thing but reach for the sky. A big masked guy +come out from the mesquite and helped himself to my gun. Then he tied me +up." + +"Would you know him again if you saw him?" interrupted the prizefighter +harshly. + +The gaze of Yeager met his blandly. There was the least possible pause, +and with it a certain tension. The younger man smiled. "Why, how could +I, seeing he was masked? He was a big sulky brute. I've a notion I'd +know his voice again if I heard it, though." + +"Think so?" In Harrison's voice was a jeer, derision in the +half-shuttered eyes that watched the other man vigilantly. + +"His hair was about the same color as yours," added Steve in a +matter-of-fact voice. + +The underhung jaw of the prizefighter shot out. "Meaning anything +particular?" + +"Why, no," replied Steve in amiable surprise. "What could I mean?" + +"How do I know what every buzzard-head's got in his cocoanut?" + +Steve continued his story, giving fuller details. His casual glances +wandered about the room. They found no mask, no Mexican serape, no black +felt hat. Since he had not expected to see these in plain view he was +not disappointed. A belt with a scabbarded revolver lay on the table. +The extra wondered whether it was the same weapon that had been pressed +against the back of his neck a few hours earlier. The boots lying half +under the bed were white with the dust of travel, but this was nothing +unusual. + +"You can have my advice gratis if you want it." Harrison addressed +himself pointedly to Threewit. "Send back to old man Yarnell's and +you'll find the cattle straying in about day after to-morrow." + +"But, if rustlers took them--" + +The big man laughed unpleasantly. "Forget it, Mr. Threewit. A fairy +tale to explain how-come your faithful cowboys to drap asleep and let +the bunch stray. I reckon a little too much redeye in camp is the c'rect +explanation." + +Yeager smiled, saying nothing. + +"And now I'm going to beat it for the hay again, Mr. Threewit. If you +recollect, I told you some one was going to blow up pretty soon. +Good-night." + +As they walked back down the corridor Steve asked one question of the +director. "Did it strike you he was a leetle too sleepy at first and +just a leetle too quick to get that chip on his shoulder?" + +"No, it didn't," snapped Threewit. Nobody likes to be dragged out of bed +at two A.M., to hear bad news, and the director was merely human. "It +makes me tired the way you two fellows shoot off about each other." + +"He's a pretty slick proposition," Yeager went on, unmoved. "He hit the +high spots back to town so as to have his alibi ready--didn't leave any +evidence floating around loose in his room. He must have come up the +back way so as to slip in without being noticed by the night clerk. At +that he couldn't have reached here more than a few minutes before me." + +"Quite a Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?" + +"Bet you a week's salary that if we go out to the stables we find one +of the horses still wet with sweat from a long run." + +"Go you once," retorted Threewit promptly. "Wait just a jiffy till I get +more clothes on." + +Steve's prediction was verified. White Stockings, one of the fastest +mounts in the remuda of the company, had been brought in from a long +hard run within the past half-hour. Its flanks were stained with sweat +and the marks of the saddle chafed its still moist back. + +"You win," admitted Threewit. "But that doesn't prove Harrison was on +its back." + +"No. Say, what about giving me a week off, Mr. Threewit?" + +"What for?" + +"I've just taken a notion to travel some. Mebbe I might run acrost those +cattle that strayed back to Yarnell's whilst I was sleeping." + +The director looked at him sharply. "All right. Go to it, son." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +PLUCKING A PIGEON + + +Steve slept almost around the clock. He lost breakfast, but was there +promptly for luncheon with the appetite of a harvest hand. During the +two days' drive he had missed the good home cooking of Mrs. Seymour and +he intended to make up for it. + +Orman and Shorty had reached town some time about daylight and had +spread the story of the holdup, so that the dining-room was humming with +excitement. A dozen questions were flung at Steve before he had well +taken his seat. He threw up his hands in surrender. + +Before he had finished telling his edited story, Shorty drifted in and +divided the interest. The little extra promptly took the stage away from +Yeager, whereupon Daisy Ellington absorbed the attention of Steve. She +asked a sharp question or two which he answered blandly. It was not his +intention to communicate any suspicions he happened to have. + +They were waiting for the dessert. Daisy put her lean, pretty elbows on +the table and her chin in her little doubled fists. A provocative +audacity was in the tilted smile she flashed at him. + +"Well?" + +"Well, what?" + +"Breeze on, Steve. You're doin' fine. Next scene." + +"That's all." + +"Say, do I look like I was born yesterday? See any green in my eye, +Cactus Center?" + +He grinned. "You're sure wise, compadre. But the rest is mostly +suspicions." + +"I'm listening," she nodded. + +"You're such a Sherlock Holmes I'd hate to go out with the boys if I was +married to you." + +"I'm your friend and wouldn't wish any such bad luck on you," she +countered gayly. Then, in a lower voice, with a sudden gravity: "Is it +Harrison, Steve?" + +Amazement sparkled for a moment in his eyes. "With your imagination, +Daisy,--" he was beginning when she cut him short. + +"You gotta tell me what's on your chest, you transparent kid." + +He knew she could keep a secret like a well. Looking round guardedly, +his voice fell to a whisper. "If I'd reached town ten minutes earlier +I'd 'a' beat him in and showed him up. Threewit won't hear to it, of +course, but the man that held me up was Chad Harrison. Take it or leave +it. Just the same it's a fact." + +Daisy nodded rapidly several times. "I take it, Steve. Always did know +there was something shady about the big stiff. And I'll tell you +something else you don't know. It's through that wild young colt brother +of hers that he's got a strangle hold on Ruth." + +Yeager set his lips to a noiseless whistle. "You mean--?" + +She flung his question aside with an impatient wave of her hand. "I +can't tell you what I mean. I've got no evidence. But it's true. She's +ridiculously fond of that young scamp Phil. Somehow--in some +way--Harrison has got the whip hand over him." + +His eyes fell on the slender girl waiting on the table at the other end +of the room. Her look met his. It almost seemed as if she knew they had +been talking about her, for the milky cheek took on a shell-pink tinge. +The long lashes fluttered down and she busied herself at once about her +work. + +"If she was my sister--" + +Daisy did not need a completed sentence to understand his meaning. "Can +you beat it?" she asked with a shrug. "Any gink that knows enough to +come in out of the rain could tell that Chad Harrison is a bad egg. Give +him the once over and you can see that." + +After Ruth had arranged the tables for dinner she stole out to the porch +for a breath of fresh air. Already the approach of an Arizona summer was +beginning to make itself felt during the middle of the day. Yeager sat +beneath the wild cucumber vines pleating a horsehair hatband for Daisy +Ellington. + +Ruth liked this brown, lithe cowpuncher, all sinew and bone and muscle. +His smile was so warm and friendly, his manner so boyish and yet so +competent. To look into his kind, steady eyes was to know that he could +be trusted. + +She moved in his direction shyly, a touch of pink blooming in her soft +cheeks. Ruth was charmingly unsure of herself. It was always easy to +disturb her composure. Even a casual encounter with the slim, +brown-faced range-rider was an adventure for her. Now her pansy eyes +deepened in color with excitement, with the tremulous fear of what she +was to learn. + +"Mr. Yeager, I--wanted to ask you about--about the holdup." + +"What about it, Miss Ruth?" + +"Did you--know any of them?" + +"How could I? They were masked." His eyes had taken on a film of +wariness that blotted out for the moment their kindness. + +"I didn't know--I thought, perhaps,--" She tried a new start. "Did you +say that three of them were Mexicans?" + +"Two of them," he corrected. + +There was the least quiver of her lip. "The others were--both big men, +didn't you say?" + +"I didn't say." + +A footstep sounded on the crisp gravel walk. Steve looked up, in time to +catch the flash of warning menace Harrison sent toward the girl. + +"Mr. Yeager has been having a pipe-dream, Ruth. Don't wake him up," +jeered the heavy. + +Ruth fled unobtrusively and left the men alone. + +"Hear you're going on a vacation," said Harrison gruffly. + +"You've heard correct." Yeager pleated his hatband with steady fingers. +His voice was even and placid. + +Harrison looked him over with indolent insolence. "Some folks find this +climate don't agree with them. Some folks find it better to drift out, +casual-like, y' understand?" + +"Yes?" + +"I'm tellin' it to you straight." + +"That you're going to leave? The Lunar Company will miss you," suggested +the range-rider politely. + +"Think you're darned clever, don't you? It's you that's leaving the +company, Mr. Yeager." + +"For a week." + +"For good." + +"Hadn't heard of it. News to me," answered Steve lightly. + +"I'm givin' you the tip. See?" + +"Oncet I knew a fellow who lived to be 'most ninety minding his own +business," observed the cowpuncher to the world in general as he held up +and examined his work. + +"It ain't considered safe to get gay with me. I'm liable to lam your +head off," threatened the big man sullenly. + +"And then again you're liable not to. I'm not freightin' with your +outfit, Mr. Harrison. Kindly lay off of me and you'll find we get along +fine." + +Steve rose and passed on his way to the street. Harrison was in two +minds whether to force an issue again with him, but something in the +contour of that close-gripped jaw, in the gleam of the steady eyes, was +more potent than the dull rage surging in him. He let the opportunity +pass. + +Four Bits carried Yeager away from Los Robles at a road gait. Horse and +rider were taking the border trail. It led them through a desolate +country of desert where the flat-leafed prickly pear and the occasional +pudgy creosote were the chief forms of vegetable life. Now and again a +swift might be seen basking on a rock or a Gila monster motionless on +the hillside. The ominous buzz of a rattler more than once made the pony +sidestep. Mesa and flat and wash succeeded each other monotonously. + +It was after sunset when they drew up at a feed corral in Arixico. Steve +looked after his horse and sauntered down the little adobe street to a +Chinese restaurant which ostentatiously announced itself as the "New +York Cafe." This side of the business street was in the territory of +Uncle Sam, the other half floated the Mexican flag. After he had eaten, +the young man drifted across to one of the gambling-houses that invited +the patronage of Americans and natives alike. + +He found within the heterogeneous gathering usually to be observed in +such a place. Vaqueros brushed shoulders with Chinese laundrymen, +cowpunchers with soldiers, peons with cattlemen from Arizona and Texas. +Here were miners and soldiers of fortune and plain tramps. More than one +of the shining-eyed gamblers had a price upon his head. Several were +outlaws. A score or more had taken part in the rapine and the pillage of +the guerrilla warfare that has of late years been the curse of the +country. It would have been hard in a day's travel to find an assembly +where human life was held at less value. + +Among these lawless, turbulent siftings of the continent Yeager was +very much at home. He merged inconspicuously into the picture, a quiet, +brown-faced man with cool, alert eyes. Nobody paid the least attention +to him. He might be a horse-thief or an honest cowpuncher. It was a +matter of supreme indifference to those present. Experience in that +outdoor frontier school which always keeps open session had taught them +that a man lived longer here when he minded his own business. + +Steve stood close to the bar. A prospector leaned against it and talked +to an acquaintance while they drank their beer. + +"This here's how I figure it," he was saying. "I had a little dough when +I begun digging gopher holes in these here hills. Not much--say fifteen +hundred, mebbe. I sure ain't got it now. Lost it in a hole in the +ground. Well; I reckon I'll go on looking for it where I lost it." + +Casually Yeager sauntered over to the roulette table. A fat man in duck +trousers--he was the agent for a firm of rifle manufacturers, Steve +learned later--was bucking the wheel hard. In front of him lay a pile of +gold-pieces and several stacks of chips. He was very red in the face +from excitement and cocktails. The range-rider put a half-dollar on the +red and won. He let it ride, won again, and shifted the chips to the +black. Once more the goddess of luck favored him. He divided his pile. +Half went on the red, the rest on the first number his eye caught. It +happened to be seventeen. The croupier spun the wheel again. The ball +whirled round, dipped down once or twice, and plumped into the +compartment numbered seventeen. + +"Enough's a-plenty. Here's where I cash in," announced Steve cheerfully. + +He stuffed the bills carelessly into his pocket and strolled over to the +faro table. Yeager had come on business, not for pleasure. He intended +to play just enough to give a colorable reason for his presence. + +His roving eye settled upon the poker table at the rear of the room. +Five men were playing. Two were Mexicans, three white. Two of the +Americans were dismissed from Steve's mind with a casual glance. They +were negligible factors. The third had his back to the observer, but the +figure had a slender, boyish trimness that spoke of youth. The Mexican +sitting to his right was a square-built fellow of forty with a scar on +the cheek running from mouth to ear. There was on his face a certain +ugliness of expression, a furtive cruelty. That there was an +understanding between him and the man opposite soon became apparent to +Yeager. They cross-raised the boy, working together to mulct him of the +pile of chips in front of him. + +It was the Mexican who sat with his back to the wall that drew and held +the cowpuncher's eye. He too was slender, not much past thirty, but with +the youth long since stamped out of his face. Sleek and black, a +dominant personality, he sat there warily as a rattlesnake, dark eyes +gleaming from a masked, smiling countenance. + +The boy was the pigeon, and it was the Mexicans that were plucking him. +So much Steve learned within two minutes. He had cut his eye teeth at +poker, and he saw at a glance that this was no game for a youngster. +Quietly he moved a step or two closer along the wall. He observed the +play without appearing to do so. + +The tension of the game was relieved with casual conversation. The two +negligibles, playing about even, contributed mostly to it. The bulky +Mexican added his quota. The boy, a heavy loser, concealed his feelings +under the bravado expected of a good sport. + +They were playing jack pots with a stripped deck, the joker going as a +fifth ace or to fill a straight or a flush. Several hands were dealt +without any stayers. The slender Mexican was dealing when the sensation +of the game was handed out. + +One of the negligibles opened the pot. The bulky Mexican stayed. + +In the slow, easy drawl of the Southwest the boy spoke. "Me, I reckon +I'll have to tilt it. Got to protect your hand from these wolves, Dave." +He pushed in a stack of blue chips. + +The third American did not stay. It was now up to the dealer--his name, +it appeared, was Ramon Culvera. After a moment's hesitation he measured +a stack of blues by those the boy had put in the pot and added to it +another pile of yellows. With a grunt of protest the older Mexican +stayed. The man who had opened the pot dropped out. + +"Enough's a-plenty. Me, I got no business trailing along with you +hyenas," he explained. + +"Different here," commented the boy. "My cards look good enough for +another hike." + +Culvera examined his hand carefully, met the raise, and picked up the +deck. + +The Mexican with the scar interposed. "But one moment, señor. Let us +make it a good pot." He pushed in all the chips in front of him. + +Yeager, standing against the wall, caught the swift flash of surprise in +the eyes of the boy. He counted the chips of the Mexican and then his +own. These he added to the small fortune in the center of the table. + +"Call it. I'm fifty-three shy," he said in an even voice. + +The range-rider knew without being told that this hand had been dealt +from a cold deck for the express purpose of cleaning out the boy. From +the tenseness of the lithe body, which had become, as it were, a coiled +spring, he knew that the lad's suspicions were stirring to life. + +The greedy little eyes of Culvera fastened on the boy. He made his first +mistake. "How much you play back, Pheelip?" + +The youngster answered. "I said a hundred bucks. I've got fifty-three in +the pot now. That leaves forty-seven." + +Culvera's raise was forty-seven dollars. The big Mexican shrugged. "Too +steep for Jesus Mendoza." He threw his cards into the discard. + +The boy who had been called Philip laid his cards face down on the table +in front of him. + +"Call it," he announced hoarsely. His eyes were fastened steadily on the +nimble brown fingers of the dealer. + +"Cards?" asked Culvera with an indolent lift of his eyebrows. + +Philip hesitated. He had the nine, ten, and jack of clubs, the queen of +hearts, and the joker. This counted as a king-high straight. Steve, +standing back and to one side of him, guessed the boy's dilemma. Should +he stand pat on his straight or discard the heart and draw to his +straight flush? Culvera's play had shown great strength and would +probably beat the pat hand. The lad took a chance and called for one +card. + +Culvera drew two. He left them lying on the table while he discarded +leisurely. + +"You're all in, Pheelip. It's a showdown. What you got?" + +Philip had drawn the six of clubs. He spread his hand with a sweeping +gesture. "All blue." + +The Mexican shrugged. "Beats me unless I helped." He showed three +eights, then faced the two cards he had drawn. The first was a king of +diamonds, the second the fourth eight. + +"Hard luck, Pheelip," he said, and all his teeth flashed in a friendly +smile as he opened both arms to rake in the chips. + +Philip sat silent, his mind seething with suspicions. Culvera had played +his hand very strangely, unless--unless he had known that a fourth eight +was waiting for him in the deck. The boy looked up, in time to catch a +vanishing smile on the face of Mendoza. + +"Just a moment, Ramon," he called sharply, covering the chips with his +hands. "That play--it don't look good to me. A man don't play threes so +strong as that." + +Culvera still smiled blandly, though his eyes were very watchful. "Me, I +have what you call a hunch, Pheelip." + +Yeager took two steps forward. "You bet he did. Cold deck, kid. The +other one is in his right-hand coat pocket." + +The suavity went out of Culvera's face as a light does from a blown +candle. Snarling, he rose from his seat and faced the cowpuncher. + +"Liar! Cabrone!" he hissed, reaching for his gun. + +Already the revolver of Mendoza was flashing in the air. + +Like a streak Steve's arm swept up. Twice his revolver sounded. There +was a crash of breaking glass from the incandescent lights. Yeager flung +himself against the table and drove it against Culvera who reeled back +against the wall and dropped his weapon. The sound of more shots, of men +dodging their way to safety, of a sharp cry followed by groans, had +trodden so swiftly on the heels of the range-rider's action that when he +turned a moment later he saw in the semi-darkness a smoke-filled room in +the confusion of chaotic movement. + +Philip stood close to him, a smoking .38 in his hand, while Mendoza, +clutching at his chair for support, sank slowly to the ground. + +Close to the boy's ear spoke Steve. "Beat it. Make your getaway through +that door. Meet me at Johanson's corral." + +The boy plunged through the doorway into the darkness outside. Toward +the exit after him backed the cowpuncher. Already scattered shots were +being flung in his direction, but the dim light served him well. The +last thing he saw before he vanished through the door was Culvera +groping for his weapon. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +STEVE TELLS TOO MUCH TRUTH + + +Yeager ducked into the night. From the door through which he had just +come bullets spat aimlessly. He crouched as he ran, dodging in zigzag +little rushes. Voices pursued him, fierce and threatening. Men poured +from the gambling-house as seeds are squirted from a squeezed lemon. + +Into a vacant lot behind a store Steve swerved, finding shelter among +some empty drygoods boxes. He was none too soon, for as he sank to +cover, the rush of feet padded down the sidewalk. Stealthily he crept to +the fence, vaulted it lightly, and found a more secure hiding-place in +the lumber yard beyond. From the top of a pile of two by fours he +watched, every sense alert to catch any warning of danger. + +Soon his pursuers returned in little groups to their interrupted games. +Now that the first excitement of the chase was over, few of them wanted +to risk a battle with desperate men in the dark. That was what the +rurales and the rangers were for. + +The cowpuncher slid down cautiously and left the lumber yard by way of +the alley in the rear. He followed a barb-wire fence which bounded a +pasture, and at the next corner crossed the street warily into United +States territory. By alleys and back ways his feet took him to +Johanson's stable. Noiselessly he crept toward it from the rear. Some +one was inside saddling a horse. So much he could gather from the +sounds. Was it Phil? Or was it some one getting ready for the pursuit? +He moved a step nearer. A stick cracked beneath his foot. + +The man saddling the bronco whirled, revolver in hand. "Who is it?" +demanded a tense voice. + +"All right, Phil." Steve moved forward, breathing easier. "Glad you made +it. We'd better light a shuck out of here. They'll stir up the rurales +to get after us, I reckon." + +Already he was busy saddling Four Bits. + +"Do you ... do you think I killed him?" jerked out the boy, a strangled +sob of over-strained emotion in his throat. + +"Don't know. He was asking for it, wasn't he?" answered Yeager in a +matter-of-fact voice. He did not intend by an expression of sympathy to +aid in any breakdown here. That could come later when they had put many +miles between them and Arixico. + +They led their horses out of the stable and swung to the saddles not a +minute too soon. A man came running toward them. + +"Hold on," he called. "Just a moment. I'm the sheriff. They say a man +has been killed." + +The fugitives put spurs to their broncos. The animals jumped to a +canter. Over his shoulder Steve looked back. The sheriff was standing +undecided. Before it penetrated his brain that these were the men he +wanted they were out of range. + +For a time they rode in silence except for the clicking of the hoofs. +Yeager turned, his hand on the rump of his pony. + +"Don't hear anything of them. We've made a clean getaway, looks like. +But they'll keep the wires warm after us--if Mendoza is dead." + +The boy broke down, sobbing. "My God, I couldn't help it. What else +could I do? He was shooting when I fired." + +"Sure he was, but that won't help you if they take you back to Mexico. +My advice is for you to get into a hole and draw it in after you, for a +few days anyhow. Where do you live?" + +"At Los Robles--when I'm at home." + +"Then you _are_ Phil Seymour?" + +"Who told you?" flashed the boy. + +"I board with your mother. I'm a rider for the Lunar Company." + +"Then you know Chad Harrison. Chad will get me out of this. He'll fix +it." + +"How'll he fix it?" demanded Yeager bluntly. "Back there across the line +they're going to call this by an ugly name--if Mendoza cashes in his +checks. Harrison can't fix murder, can he?" + +A film of hard wariness covered the eyes of the boy as he looked across +in the darkness at the other man. "He's got friends," was the dry, +noncommittal answer that came to the range-rider after a moment's +distinct pause. + +Yeager asked no more questions. There had been a "No trespass" sign in +Phil's manner. But as they rode silently toward Los Robles Steve's mind +groped again with the problem of Harrison's relation to those in power +across the border. Was the man tied up with old Pasquale? Or was he an +agent of the Huerta Government? Just now the Federals had control of +this part of the border. Did the boy mean that it was among them that +Harrison had friends? It looked that way, and yet--The cowpuncher could +not get it out of his head that the stolen cattle had been for old +Pasquale. Huerta's lieutenants were too wary to stock their pantry from +the United States in that fashion. + +They rode into Los Robles in the first gray stirrings of dawn, long +before anybody in the little town was afoot. + +"Where are you going to hide? First place they'll look for you will be +at home," suggested Yeager. + +"There's a haystack out in the Lunar pastures. I'll lay low there. Tell +Chad when you see him, and have Ruth fix me up something to eat." + +They parted, each of them to get in what sleep was possible before day. +When Steve was awakened by the sound of some one stirring in the next +room it seemed as though he had been in bed only a few minutes. + +He walked up to the hotel before breakfast and saw Harrison as the actor +was going into the dining-room. The big man stopped in his tracks and +shot out a heavy jaw at him. + +"Thought you was giving our eyes a rest for a while," he growled. + +Yeager declined to exchange compliments with him. "There's a friend of +yours on the haystack in the pasture. He wants to see you soon as it's +convenient." + +The eyes of the pugilist narrowed. "Put a name to him." + +"Phil Seymour." + +"What's he doing here?" demanded Harrison blackly. + +"Perhaps you'd better ask him." Steve turned on his heel and walked back +to his boarding-house. + +His arrival at the breakfast table was greeted with a chorus of +exclamations. What was he doing back so soon? Had he got homesick? Had +he run out of money already? + +He let them worm out of him that he had ridden away and forgotten his +purse and that upon discovering this he had come back for the supplies +of war. They joked him unmercifully, even Daisy,--who was manifestly +incredulous about his explanation,--and he accepted their hilarious +repartee with the proper amount of sheepish resentment. + +After the meal was over he lingered to see Ruth, who had just sat down +to eat. + +"Can I see you alone, Miss Ruth?" + +She flashed a quick look at him, doubtful and apprehensive. "In the +pergola, almost right away." + +The girl reached the vine-draped entrance of the pergola shortly after +Yeager. Manifestly her fears had been growing in the interval since he +had left her. + +"What is it?" And swift on the heels of that, "Is it about Phil?" + +"Yes." + +"He's in trouble ... again?" she breathed. + +He nodded assent. "The boy's out in the pasture. He wants you to send +him breakfast." + +The dread that was always lying banked in the hearts of herself and her +mother found voice. "What has he done now?" + +The range-rider chose his words carefully. "There was some trouble--just +across the border. He had to shoot ... and a man fell." + +Her face mirrored terror. "You mean ... dead?" + +"I don't know," he answered gravely. + +"Tell me all about it, please,--the circumstances, everything." + +"He will tell you himself. I'll just say this--the shooting was forced +on him. He fired in self-defense." + +She wrung her hands. "I knew ... I knew something dreadful would happen. +Mr. Harrison promised me--he said he would look out for Phil." + +Steve looked her straight in the eyes. "Harrison's a crook. He's been +using your love for Phil as a lever. It's up to you and the boy to shake +him off." + +A swift, upblazing anger leaped to her face. "How dare you say that! How +dare you!" + +His blue eyes met her dark, stormy ones quietly and steadily. "I'm +telling you the truth. Can't you see he's been leading Phil into +deviltry? You're afraid of him, afraid of his influence over the boy. +That's why you knuckle down to him." + +"I'm not afraid. He's Phil's friend. You're against him just because +he--he--" + +"Say it, Miss Ruth. Just because he gave me the whaling of my young +life. Nothing to that, nothing a-tall. My system can absorb a licking +without bearing a grudge. But he ain't on the level. 'Course you'll hate +me for saying it, but some one's got to tell you." + +"It's none of your business. I dare say it was you that was with Phil +when he--when he--got into trouble." + +"Yes." + +"I thought so." A sob swelled up in her throat. "You come here and make +trouble. I do hate you if you want to know." + +With that she turned tempestuously and went flying back to the house. + +Steve smiled ruefully. He did not know much about women, but he had read +somewhere that they were capable of injustice. She had plenty of spirit, +anyhow, for all that she looked so demure and shy. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE HEAVY GETS HIS TIME + + +Threewit came to Steve while Cummings was preparing the stage set for a +dissolve. + +"Wish you'd look over this scenario, Yeager. The old man sent it out to +me to see if we can pull off the riding end of it. Scene twenty-seven is +the sticker. Here's the idea: You've been thrown from your horse and +your foot's caught in the stirrup. You draw your gat to shoot the bronch +and it's bumped out of your hand as you're dragged over the rough +ground. See? You save your life by wriggling your foot out of your boot. +Can it be done without taking too many chances?" + +The rider considered. "I reckon it could if a fellow's boot was fixed so +he could slip his foot out at the right time. I'll take a whirl at it." + +"There's another scene where you save Maisie by jumping from your horse +to a wild steer that's pursuing her. You'll have to twist its head and +throw the brute after you straddle it." + +"All right. When you want to pull it off?" + +"We can do the stirrup one to-day, before you go--if you still want to +go." + +"Got an answer yet from Arixico?" + +"Just got it. Mendoza's still alive, but mighty badly hurt. I've sent +the kid out to the animal farm. He'll lie low, and they won't find him +there." + +"I'm still curious about that bunch of cattle we lost. If you can spare +me I'll run down and see if old Pasquale hasn't got 'em. It ain't likely +we'll ever get hide or hair of 'em, but there's one thing I'd like to +find out." + +"Still got that notion about Harrison?" + +"Maybe I have. Maybe I haven't. Anyhow, folks that are blind can't see. +I'll keep my notions in my own fool haid for a while." + +"Harrison has some friends across the line. He's going to try and fix it +for the kid if they run him down." + +"That's fine," commented Yeager dryly. "He sure must have influential +friends." + +"All ready, Mr. Threewit," called out Cummings. + +The director lit a cigar and moved forward to the stage. "Lennox, you're +too far up stage. Register fear, Daisy. That's the idea. Now, then, Miss +Winters. Keep your eyes on Daisy as you come into the room. No--no--no! +That won't do at all." + +Yeager left them to their rehearsal troubles and strolled back to his +boarding-house. He would not be needed till afternoon. + +He spent a half-hour softening the leather of his right boot around the +ankle. A man cannot tumble from a running horse, let himself be dragged +forty yards, and then slip his foot from the stirrup of a cowpony that +has become frightened without taking a big chance. But it was his +business to take chances. He always had taken them. And he knew that +they could be minimized by careful preparation, expertness, and cool +skill of execution. + +As it turned out, Yeager had to make his fall twice. The ground selected +for the set was a bit of level space just at the foot of a hillside. The +rider went down hard on his shoulder at exactly the spot selected, but +he had miscalculated slightly and the force of the fall dragged his foot +from the boot at once. His calculations worked better at the second +attempt. Hanging on by a toe-hold, he was dragged bumping over the rough +ground. His revolver came out on schedule time and flew into the air. +When Farrar gave the word,--which was at the moment the galloping horse +was opposite the camera,--Steve worked his foot free, leaving the boot +still clinging to the stirrup. + +Yeager got to his feet rather unsteadily. The fall had been an unusually +hard one, and it had not helped any to be dragged at full speed over the +bumpy ground. Maisie Winters ran forward and slipped an arm around his +waist to support him. + +"You dandy man! I never did see one so game as you, Steve." + +The cowpuncher grinned. He liked Maisie Winters. There was about her a +boyish, slangy camaraderie that made for popularity. + +"Says the extra to the star, 'Much obliged, ma'am.'" + +"You're no extra. In your own line you're as big a star as we've got. I +know there isn't a rider in the country like you. You're a jim-dandy." + +"He's quite a family pet," contributed Harrison sourly. + +Farrar came forward from the camera, his eyes shining. "Some picture, +I'll bet. Good boy! You pulled it fine, Steve. Didn't he, Threewit?" + +The director nodded. He was wondering how much he would have to raise +this young man's salary to hold him from rival companies. + +"Sho! I just fell out of the saddle, Frank. Most any one can fall off a +horse." + +Harrison laughed spitefully. "I saw him do a better fall than that +oncet." + +Farrar was on the spot. "I saw you do a mighty good one the same day." + +"Don't get fresh, young fella, or you'll do more than see one," snarled +the heavy. + +"Want to beat me up, Chad?" asked Farrar with innocent impudence. "I +weigh one hundred and thirty-one pounds when I'm hog fat. How much do +you weigh?" + +"Cut it out, Frank," ordered Threewit. "I've had about enough of this +jangling. If it isn't stopped, some one's going to lose a job. We're +here to take pictures. Any one who's got any other idea had better call +at the office for his time." + +"Meaning me, Mr. Director?" demanded Harrison menacingly. + +"Meaning you or anybody else that won't keep the rules I set for the +company I run," retorted the director sharply. + +"Forget it, Threewit. I'm no kid. Nobody runs me with rules. I do as I +please." + +"You'll not make trouble in my company." + +"You ain't any little tin god on wheels. Don't run away with that idee +in your bean. I haven't seen any man yet that can lay onto me without +getting his hair curled for him. Me, I play my own hand, by God; and I +don't care whether it's against Mr. Yeager or Mr. Farrar--or Mr. +Threewit. See?" + +"Your pay is waiting for you, Harrison." + +"What? How's that?" he snarled. + +"You're discharged--no longer working for the Lunar Company." + +Harrison's face became an apoplectic purple. He stood with clenched +fists glaring at the director, ready to explode with rage. It was a part +of his vanity that he had not supposed for an instant that Threewit +would let him go. + +But it happened that the director had a temper of his own. He had chafed +long enough under the domineering ways of the ex-prizefighter. Moreover, +Harrison was no longer so essential to the company. Yeager was a far +better rider and could register more effectively the feats of +horsemanship that were a feature of the Lunar films. Billie Threewit had +known for some time that this man was an element of disorganization in +the company. Therefore he was letting him go. + +Steve stood quietly in the background, one arm thrown carelessly across +the neck of his pony. But his gaze did not lift from the heavy, who +stood glaring at the director, his fingers working and head thrust low +on the deep chest so that the gorilla hunch was emphasized. The man's +black eyes snapped with a blazing fire that seemed ready to leap like a +crouched tiger. + +"Through with me, are you? Going to use that grand-stander Yeager +instead, I reckon. That's the game, is it?" + +"I'm not discussing my plans with you." + +"Ain't you? Well, I'll discuss mine to this extent. I'll make you sick +of this day's work all right before I'm through with you. Get that? +Plumb sick." His eyes traveled around the half-circle till they met +those of Yeager. "You'll get yours too, my friend. Believe _me_. Get it +a-plenty. You're going to sweat blood when I git you hog-tied." + +He turned away, flung himself on his horse, and dug the rowels into the +sides of the animal savagely. + +Farrar laughed nervously. "Exit Mr. Chad Harrison, some annoyed." + +Steve looked gravely at his employer. "Sorry you tied that can on him, +Mr. Threewit. He's not just the man I'd choose for an enemy if I was +picking one." + +"Had to do it sometime. The sooner the quicker. Anyhow, he hasn't got it +in for me as much as he has for you." + +Yeager shrugged. "Oh, me. That's different. 'Course he hates me +thorough, but I'm sorry you got mixed in it." + +"What difference does it make? He can't hurt me any." The director +clapped his hands briskly. "All over at the willows for the kid-finding +scene. Got your location picked, Farrar?" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GABRIEL PASQUALE + + +A red-hot cannon ball was flaming high in the heavens when Yeager drew +out of Los Robles at a road gait. The desert winds were whispering +good-night to the sun as he crossed Dry Sandy just above the Sinks. Many +dusty miles in Sonora had been clipped off by Four Bits before the chill +moon rose above the black line of the distant hills and flooded a +transformed land with magical light, touching a parched and arid earth +to a vibrant and mysterious beauty of whispering yucca and fantastic +cactus and weird outline of mesquite. + +Twice he unsaddled the bronco, hobbled it, and lay on his back with his +face to the million stars of night. The first time he gave Four Bits an +hour's rest and grazing. It was midnight when he dismounted at a +water-hole gone almost dry under many summer suns. Here he slept the +heavy, restful sleep of healthy, fatigued youth, arms and legs +sprawling, serene and peaceful, unmoving as a lifeless log. + +With the first faint streaks of dawn that came flooding into the eastern +sky he was afoot, knocking together such breakfast as a rider of the +plains needs. Presently he was once more in the saddle, pushing across +the tawny, empty desert toward the hills that hid Noche Buena, the +village where Pasquale had his headquarters. + +The smell of breakfast and the smoke of it were in the air when he rode +into the street lined with brown adobe huts. The guards paid no +attention to him. Gringos evidently were no unusual sight to the +troopers of the insurgent chief. Most of these were wearing blue denim +suits of overall stuff, though a few were clad in khaki. All carried +bright-colored handkerchiefs around their necks. Serapes, faded and +bright, of all hues and textures, were in evidence everywhere. + +He stopped a boy in riding-boots reaching to his hips, down the sides of +which were conchas of silver dollars. Like most of those in camp the +face upturned to that of Yeager was of a strong Indian cast. + +The American inquired where the general might be found. + +The boy--Steve judged him not over fifteen, and he was to find many +soldiers in camp younger even than this--pointed to a square two-story +house near the center of the town. + +Two sentries were on guard outside. One of these went inside with the +message of Yeager. Presently he returned, relieved the American of his +revolver, and announced that the general would see him. + +Pasquale was at breakfast with one of his lieutenants, a slender young +man with black sleek hair who sat with his back to the door. From the +first moment that his eyes fell upon that lithe, graceful figure the +American knew that presently he would be looking into the face of Ramon +Culvera. A chill shudder passed through him for an instant. If the +gambler recognized him he was lost. + +But as yet Culvera had not taken the trouble to turn. He was eating a +banana indolently and stray Gringos did not greatly interest him. + +"You want to see me, señor," demanded Pasquale in Spanish. + +"I'm out of a job--thought maybe you could give me something to do. I +met Tom Neal. He figured you might." + +"In the army? Do you want to fight?" + +Pasquale leaned back in his chair and looked at his guest from narrowed +eyes that expressed intelligent energy and brutality. He was smiling, +but there was something menacing even about his smile. It struck Steve +that he was as simple, as natural, and about as humane as a wolf. He was +not tall, but there was unusual breadth and depth to his shoulders. +Something of the Indian was in the high cheekbones of his rough, +unshaven, coffee-colored face. The old ruffian looked what he was, a +terrible man, one who could brush out a human life as lightly as he did +the ash from his cigar. + +"I don't know. Perhaps. Can you give me a commission?" + +"Hmp!" The beadlike eyes of the bandit took in shrewdly the competence +of this quiet, brown-faced man. He might be a thief and a +murderer,--very likely was since he had crossed the border to join the +insurgents,--but it was a safe bet that he had the fighting edge. Men of +this particular stripe were needed to lick his tattered, nondescript +recruits into shape. "Where you from? Who knows you?" + +Culvera slewed round in his seat and glanced at the man standing behind +his chair. The indifference did not fade out of his eyes. + +"I've been with the Lunar Film Company. Before that I was riding for the +Lone Star cattle outfit," answered Yeager. + +The younger Mexican showed a flicker of interest. "The Lunar Film +Company? Do you know a man named Harrison, señor?" + +"Yes." + +"And a boy named Pheelip Seymour?" + +"I've just met him. He doesn't work for the company." + +Culvera turned to his chief. "It is this Pheelip that shot Mendoza, he +and another Gringo." + +Pasquale nodded, still watching Yeager. + +"Know any military tactics?" he asked. + +"None--except to hit the other fellow first and hit him hardest." + +"And to hit him when he isn't looking. Those three things are all there +is to know about war--those three, and to keep your men fat." Pasquale's +momentary grin faded. "I'll give you a try-out for a week. If we like +each other we'll talk turkey about a commission. Eh, señor?" + +"Go you one. If we ain't suited we part company at the end of a week." + +The noted insurgent leader spoke English as well as he did Spanish. +Sometimes he talked in one language, sometimes in the other. Now he +relapsed into Spanish and asked Yeager to join them at breakfast. + +The cowpuncher sat down promptly. It had been three hours since he had +eaten lightly and he was as hungry as a Yukon husky. He observed that +Culvera's table manners were nice and particular, whereas those of his +chief, though they ate off silver taken from the home of a Federal +supporter during a raid, were uncouth in the extreme. He wolfed his +food, throwing it into his mouth from knife or fork as rapidly as he +could. + +Glancing up from his steak, Steve observed the brooding eye of Culvera +upon him. Faint suspicions, recollections too vague as yet for +definiteness, were beginning to stir in the mind of the man. He had +taken on the look of wariness, masked by a surface smile, that his face +had worn the night of the shooting. + +Yeager's talk flowed on, easy, careless, unperturbed. His stories were +amusing Pasquale, and the old ruffian had a fondness for anybody that +could entertain him. But back of his debonair gayety Steve nursed a +growing unease. He was no longer dressed in the outfit of a cowpuncher, +but wore a gray street suit and a Panama straw hat. Culvera had caught +only a momentary glance at him the night they had faced each other +revolver in hand. Yet the American was morally convinced that given time +recognition would flash upon the young Mexican. Some gesture or +expression would betray him. Then the fat would be in the fire. And +Steve--where would he be? + +After breakfast Yeager rode out with Pasquale to review the troops. It +was an entirely informal proceeding. The youthful army was happily +engaged in loafing and in play. A bugle blew. There was an instant +scurry for horses. They swung into line, stood at attention, and at a +second blast charged yelling across the plain, serapes flying wild. + +Pasquale turned to Yeager with a gesture of his hand. "They are mine, +body and soul. They eat, sleep, starve, and die at my word. Is it not +so?" + +The charging line had wheeled and was coming back like the distant roll +of thunder. "Viva Pasquale!" they shouted as they galloped. Steve had a +momentary qualm lest they charge over him and their chief, but the tough +little horses were dragged to a halt five yards from them in a great +cloud of dust. Bullets zipped into the air in their wild enthusiasm. +Wild whoops and cheers increased the tumult. + +"Looks that way," agreed the American. + +Returning to the village, Steve observed a bunch of cattle a hundred +yards from the trail. A Mexican lad, half asleep, was herding them. +Immediately a devouring curiosity took hold of the cowpuncher. He wanted +to see the brand on those cattle. It struck him that the shortest way +was the quickest. He borrowed the field-glasses of Pasquale. + +As he lowered the glasses after looking through them, Yeager laughed. +"Funny how things come out. In this country cattle are like chips in a +poker game. They ain't got any home, I reckon." + +"Meaning, señor?" suggested the insurgent chief. + +"Meaning that less than a week ago I paid a perfectly good check of the +Lunar Company for that bunch of steers. We did aim to use them in some +roundup sets, but I expect you've got another use for them." + +"Si, señor." + +"Hope Harrison held you up for a good price," suggested the American +casually. + +Pasquale showed his teeth in a grin. "He was some anxious to unload in a +hurry--had to take the market he could find handy." + +"Looks like he was afraid the goods might spoil on his hands," Steve +commented dryly. + +"Maybeso. I didn't ask any questions and he didn't offer any +explanations. Fifteen gold on the hoof was what I agreed to pay. Were +you in on this with Harrison?" + +"I was and I wasn't. Me, I drove that bunch 'most forty miles, then he +held me up and took the whole outfit from me." + +Pasquale saw he had made a mistake and promptly lied. "It wasn't +Harrison I got them from at all--just wanted to see what you'd say." + +"Well, they didn't cost me a red cent. You're welcome to 'em as far as +I'm concerned. Slow elk suits me fine. I'll help you eat them while I'm +here, and that will be a week anyhow." + +"You're a good sport, Yeager, as you Gringos say. We'll get along like +brothers. Not so?" + +The revolutionary chief was an incessant card-player. He had a greasy +pack out as soon as they reached camp. Steve was invited to take a hand, +also Ramon Culvera and a fat, bald-headed Mexican of fifty named +Ochampa. Culvera, playing in luck, won largely from his chief, who +accepted his run of ill fortune grouchily. Pasquale had been a peon in +his youth, an outlaw for twenty years, and a czar for three. He was as +much the subject of his own unbridled passions as is a spoiled and +tyrannous child. Yeager, studying him, was careful to lose money with a +laugh to the old despot and equally careful to see that the chips came +back to him from Ochampa's side of the table. + +The cowpuncher knew fairly well the political rumors that were afloat in +regard to the situation in northern Mexico. Pasquale as yet was dictator +of the revolutionary forces, but there had been talk to the effect that +Ramon Culvera was only biding his time. Other ambitious men had aspired +to supplant Pasquale. They had died sudden, violent deaths. Ramon had +been a great favorite of the dictator, but it was claimed signs were not +lacking to show that a rupture between them was near. Watching them now, +Yeager could well believe that this might be true. Culvera was suave, +adroit, deferential as he raked in his chief's gold, but the +irritability of the older man needed only an excuse to blaze. + +A blue-denim trooper came into the room and stood at attention. + +Pasquale nodded curtly. + +"Señor Harrison to see the general," said the private in Spanish. + +A chill ran down the spine of the American. This was the last place in +the world that he wanted to meet Chad Harrison. A swift vision of +himself standing with his back to a wall before a firing line flashed +into his brain. + +But he was in for it now. He knew that the ex-prizefighter would +denounce him. A daredevil spirit of recklessness flooded up in his +heart. A smile both gay and sardonic danced in his eyes. Thus does +untimely mirth in the hour of danger drive away a sober, prayerful +gravity from the mien of such light-hearted sons of nature as Stephen +Yeager. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A NIGHT VISIT + + +Harrison stood blinking in the doorway, having just come out from the +untempered sunlight in the street. He shook hands with the general, with +Culvera, and then his glance fell upon the American. + +"Fine glad day, ain't it?" Yeager opened gayly. "Great the way friends +meet in this little old world." + +"What are you doing here?" demanded the prizefighter, his chin jutting +forward and down. + +"Me! I'm losing my wad at stud. Want to stake me?" + +Harrison turned to Pasquale. "Know who he is? Know anything about him, +general?" + +"Only what he has told me, señor." + +"And that is?" + +"That he worked for the moving-picture company at Los Robles, that he is +out of a job, and that he wants to try the revolutionary game, as you +Americans say." + +"Don't you believe it. Don't believe a word of it," broke out Harrison +stormily. "He's a spy. That's what he is." + +Smiling, Steve cut in. "What have I come to spy about, Harrison?" + +"You told Threewit that you thought General Pasquale had those cattle. +You may deny it, but--" + +"Why _should_ I deny it?" Yeager turned genially to the insurgent chief. +"_You_ don't deny it, do you, general?" + +Pasquale laughed. He liked the cheek of this young man. "I deny nothing +and I admit nothing." He swept his hand around in a gesture of +indifference. "My vaqueros herd cattle I have bought. Possibly rustlers +sold them to me. Maybeso. I ask no questions." + +"Nor I," added Yeager promptly. "At least, not many. I eat the beef and +find it good. You ought to have got a good price for a nice fat bunch +like that, Harrison." + +"What d'you mean by that?" The man's fists were clenched. The rage was +mounting in him. + +"Forget it, Harrison! You've quit the company. You're across the line +and among friends. No use keeping up the bluff. I know who held me up. +If I'm not hos-tile about it, you don't need to be." + +The prizefighter flung at him the word of insult that no man in the +fighting West brooks. Before Steve could speak or move, Pasquale +hammered the table with his heavy, hairy fist. + +"Maldito!" he roared. "Is it so you talk to my friends in my own house, +Señor Harrison?" + +The rustler, furious, turned on him. But even in his rage he knew better +than to let his passion go. The insurgent chief was more dangerous than +dynamite in a fire. Purple with anger, Harrison choked back the volcanic +eruption. + +"Friend! I tell you he's a spy, general. This man killed Mendoza. He's +here to sell you out." + +The sleek black head of Culvera swung quickly round till his black eyes +met the blue ones of Yeager. He flung his hand straight out toward the +Anglo-Saxon. + +"Mil diablos! What a dolt I am. It's the very man, and I've been racking +my brain to think where I met him before." + +Yeager laughed hardily. "I've got a better memory, señor. Knew you the +moment I set eyes on you, though it was some smoky when we last met." + +Culvera rose, his knuckles pressing against the table. There was a faint +smile of triumph, on his masked, immobile face. + +"Farewell, Señor Yeager," he said softly. "After all, it's a world full +of hardship and unpleasantness. You're well rid of it." + +Steve knew his sole appeal lay in Pasquale. Ochampo was a nonentity. +Both Harrison and Culvera had already condemned him to death. He turned +quietly to the insurgent leader. + +"How about it, general? Do I get a pass to Kingdom Come--because I stood +by a half-grown kid when two blacklegs were robbing him?" + +"You shot Mendoza, eh?" demanded Pasquale, his heavy brows knit in a +frown. + +"No; I helped the boy escape who did." + +"You were both employed by the enemy to murder him and Culvera--not so?" + +"Nothing of the sort. Young Seymour was in a poker game with Culvera and +Mendoza. They were cross-lifting him--and playing with a cold deck at +that. I warned the kid. They began shooting. I could have killed either +of them, but I blew out the lights instead. In self-defense the boy shot +Mendoza. We escaped through the door. The trouble was none of our +seeking." + +Culvera shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands in a gesture of +bland denial. "Lies! All lies, general. Have I not already told you the +truth?" + +Coldly Pasquale pronounced judgment. "What matter which one shot +Mendoza. Both were firing. Both escaped together. Both are equally +guilty." He clapped his hands. A trooper entered. "'Tonio, get a guard +and take this man to prison. See that he is kept safe. To-morrow at dawn +he will be shot." + +The trooper withdrew. Pasquale continued evenly. "We have one rule, +Señor Yeager. He who kills one of us is our enemy. If we capture him, +that man dies. Fate has shaken the dice and they fall against you. So be +it. You pay forfeit." + +Yeager nodded. He wasted no breath in useless protest against the +decision of this man of iron. What must be, must. A plea for mercy or +for a reversal of judgment would be mere weakness. + +"If that's the way you play the game there's no use hollering. I'll take +my medicine, because I must. But I'll just take one little flyer of a +guess at the future, general. If you don't put friend Culvera out of +business, it will presently be, 'Good-night, Pasquale.' He's a right +anxious and ambitious little lieutenant, I shouldn't wonder." + +Harrison triumphed openly. He followed out of the house the file of +soldiers who took his enemy away. + +"Told you I'd git even a-plenty, didn't I?" he jeered. "Told you I'd +make you sweat blood, Mister Yeager. Good enough. You'll see me in a box +right off the stage to-morrow morning when the execution set is pulled +off. Adios, my friend!" + +The cowpuncher was thrust into a one-room, flat-roofed adobe hut. The +door was locked and a guard set outside. The prison had for furniture a +three-legged stool and a rough, home-made table. In one corner lay a +couple of blankets upon some straw to serve for a bed. The walls of the +house, probably a hundred years old at least, were of plain, unplastered +adobe. The fireplace was large, but one glance up the narrow chimney +proved the futility of any hope of escape in that direction. + +He was caught, like a rat in a trap. Yet somehow he did not feel as if +it could be true that he was to be taken out at daybreak and shot. It +must be some ridiculous joke Fate was playing on him. Something would +turn up yet to save him. + +But as the hours wore away the grim reality of his position came nearer +home to him. He had only a few hours left. From his pocket he took a +notebook and a pencil. It was possible that Pasquale would let him send +a letter through to Threewit if it gave some natural explanation of his +death, one that would relieve him of any responsibility. Steve tore out +a page and wrote, standing under the little shaft of moonlight that +poured through the small barred window:-- + + Fifteen minutes ago [so he wrote] I accidentally shot myself while + target-practicing here in camp. They say I won't live more than a + few hours. By the courtesy of General Pasquale I am getting a + letter through to you, which is to be sent after my death. Give + bearer ten dollars in gold. + + Say good-bye for me to Frank, Daisy, and the rest. _Bust up that + marriage if you can_. + + Adios, my friend. + STEVE YEAGER. + +He was searching in his pocket for an envelope when there came a sound +that held him rigid. Some one was very carefully unlocking the door of +his prison from the outside. Stealthily he drew back into the deep +shadow at the farther end of the room, picking up noiselessly by one leg +the stool by the table. It was possible that some one had been sent to +murder him. + +The grinding of the key ceased. Slowly the door opened inch by inch. A +man's head was thrust through the opening. After a long time of silence +a figure followed the head and the door was closed again. + +"You may put down that weapon, Señor Yeager. I have not come to knife +you." + +The lower half of the man's face was covered by a fold of his serape, +the upper part was shaded by his sombrero. Only the glittering eyes +could be plainly seen. + +"Why have you come?" + +"To talk with you--perhaps to save you. Quien sabe?" + +Yeager put down the stool and gave it a shove across the floor. "Will +you take a seat, general? Sorry I can't offer you refreshments, but the +truth is I'm not exactly master in my own house." + +Pasquale dropped the serape from his face and moved forward. "So you +knew me?" + +"Yes." + +"How much will you give for your life?" demanded the Mexican abruptly, +sitting down on the stool with his back to the table. + +"As much as any man." + +The general eyed him narrowly. One sinewy brown hand caressed the butt +of a revolver hanging at his hip. + +"Who paid you to murder Culvera and Mendoza--not Farrugia, surely?" +Pasquale shot at him, eyes gleaming under shaggy brows. + +Garcia Farrugia was the Federal governor of the province, the general +with whom Pasquale had been fighting for a year. + +"No--not Farrugia." + +The insurrecto chief, sprawling in the moonlight with his back against +the table, nodded decisively. + +"I thought as much. He's no fool. Garcia knows it would not weaken me +to lose both of them, that my grief would not be inconsolable. Who, +then, if not Farrugia?" + +"Nobody. I'm not an assassin. The story I told you is the truth, +general." + +"If that is true, Ramon Culvera's lies have brought you to your death." + +The Mexican still sprawled with an arm flung across the table. Not a +muscle of his lax body had grown more taut. But the eyes of the man--the +terrible eyes that condemned men to their graves without a flicker of +ruth--were fixed on the range-rider with a steady compulsion filled with +hidden significance. + +"Yes." Steve waited, alert and watchful. Presently he would understand +what this grim, virile old scoundrel was driving at. + +"You fought him in the open. You played your cards above the table. He +comes back at you with a cold deck. Señor, do you love Ramon like a +brother?" + +"Of course not. If I could get at him before--" + +The rigor of the black eyes boring into those of Yeager did not relax. +The impact of them was like steel grinding on steel. + +"Yes? If you could get at him? What, then, señor?" + +The words were hissed across the room at the American. Pasquale was no +longer lounging. He leaned forward, body tense and rigid. His prisoner +understood that an offer for his life was being made him. But what kind +of an offer? Just what was he to do? + +"Say it right out in plain United States talk, general. What is it you +want me to do?" + +"Would you kill Ramon Culvera--to save your own life?" + +After barely an instant's hesitation Steve answered. "Yep. I'll fight +him to a finish--any time, any place." + +"Bueno! But there will be no risk for you. He will be summoned from his +house to-night. You will stand in the darkness outside. One thrust of +the knife and--you will be avenged. A saddled horse is waiting for you +now in the cottonwood grove opposite. Before we get the pursuit started +you will be lost in the darkness miles away." + +The heart of Yeager sank. The thing he was being asked to do was plain +murder. Even to save his own life he could not set his hand to such a +contract. + +"I can't do that, general. But I'll pick a quarrel with him. I'll take a +chance on even terms." + +"No--no!" Pasquale's voice was harsh and imperative. "The dog is +plotting my murder. But first he wants to make sure he is strong enough +to succeed me. So he waits. But I--Gabriel Pasquale--I wait for no +man's knife. I strike first--and sure. You execute the traitor and save +your own life which is forfeit. Caramba! Are you afraid?" + +"Not afraid, but--" + +"You walk out of that door a free man. You give the password for +to-night. It is 'Gabriel.' You settle with the traitor and then ride +away to safety. Maldito! Why hesitate?" + +"Because I'm a white man, general. We don't kill in the dark and run +away. When I offer to fight him to a finish I go the limit--and then +some. For I don't hate Culvera that bad. But I think a heap of Steve +Yeager's life, so I'll stand pat on my proposition." + +"Am I a fool, señor?" asked the Mexican harshly. "How do I know you +would keep faith, that you would not ride away--what you call laugh in +your sleeve at me? No! You will strike under my own eye--with my +revolver at your heart. Then I make sure." + +"I'll bet you'd make sure. You'd shoot me down and explain it all fine +when your men came running. 'The Gringo dog escaped and killed my dear +friend Ramon, but by good luck I shot him before he made his getaway.' +Nothing doing." + +"Then you refuse?" Pasquale's narrowed eyes glittered in the moonshine. + +"You're right I do." + +The Mexican rose. "Die like a dog, then, you pigheaded Gringo." + +"Just a moment, general. I've got a letter here I wish you'd send north +for me. It explains that I shot myself accidentally--lets you out fine +in case Uncle Sam begins to ask inconvenient whys about my +disappearance." + +"And why so much care to save me trouble?" inquired the insurgent leader +suspiciously. + +"I have to put that in to get you to forward the letter, I reckon. What +I want is that my friends should know I'm dead." + +As a soldier Pasquale could understand that desire. He hesitated. The +sudden death of Americans had of late stirred a good deal of resentment +across the line. Why not take the alibi Yeager so conveniently offered +him? + +"Let's see your letter. But remember I promise nothing," said the +Mexican roughly. + +Steve moved forward and gave it to him. His heart was pounding against +his ribs as does that of a frightened rabbit in the hand. If Pasquale +looked at the letter now he had a chance. If he put it in his pocket the +chance vanished. + +The rebel chief glanced at the sheet of paper, opened it, and stepped +back into the moonlight. For just an instant his eyes left Yeager and +fell upon the paper. That moment belonged to Steve. Like a tiger he +leaped for the hairy throat of the man. + +Pasquale, with a half-articulate cry, stumbled back. But the American +was on top of him, his strong, brown fingers were tightening on the +sinewy throat. They went down together, the Mexican underneath. As he +fell, the head of the general struck the edge of the table. The steel +grip of Steve's hand did not relax, for a single sharp cry would mean +death to him. + +Just once Pasquale rolled half over before his body went slack and +motionless. He had fainted. + +The first thing Yeager did was to take the bandanna handkerchief from +his neck and use it as a gag for his prisoner. He dragged the blankets +from their corner and tore one of them into strips. With these he bound +the hands of Pasquale behind him and tied his feet together. He +unloosened the revolver belt of the Mexican and strapped it about his +own waist. The silver-trimmed sombrero he put on his head and the serape +he flung round his shoulders and across the lower part of his face in +the same way the garment had been worn by its owner. + +Steve glanced around to see that he had everything he needed. + +"They's no manner o' doubt but you're taking a big chancet, son," he +drawled to himself after the manner of an old range-rider he knew. "But +we sure gotta take a long shot and gamble with the lid off. Any man who +stops S. Yeager to-night is liable to find him a bad hombre. So-long, +general." + +He opened the door and stepped out. His heart was jumping queerly. The +impulse was on him to cut across to the cottonwood grove on the dead +run, but he knew this would never do. Instead, he sauntered easily into +the moonlight with the negligence of one who has all night before his +casual steps. + +The sharp command of the guard outside slackened his stride. + +"Gabriel," he called back over his shoulder without stopping. + +"Si, señor. Buenos tardes." + +"Buenos." + +He moved at a leisurely pace down the street until he was opposite the +cottonwoods. Here he diverged from the dusty road. + +"Hope the old scalawag wasn't lying about that cavallo waiting for +Steve. I'm plumb scairt to death till I get out of this here wolf's den. +Me, I'm too tender to monkey with any revolutions. I've knowed it happen +frequent that a man got his roof blowed off for buttin' in where he +wasn't invited." He was still impersonating the old cowman as a vent to +his excitement, which found no expression in the cool, deliberate +motions of his lithe body. + +He found the horse in the cottonwoods as Pasquale had promised. Swinging +to the saddle, he cantered down the road to the outskirts of the +village. A sentinel stopped him, and a second time he gave the +countersign. He was just moving forward again when some one emerged from +the darkness back of the sentry and sharply called to him to stop. + +Steve knew that voice, would have known it among a thousand. Since he +had no desire at this moment to hold a conversation with Ramon Culvera +he drove his heels into the side of the cow pony. The horse leaped +forward just as a revolver rang out. So close did the shot come to +Yeager that it lifted the sombrero from his head as he dodged. + +After he was out of range Yeager laughed. "Pasquale gets his hat back +again--ventilated. Oh, well, it's bad enough to be a horse-thief without +burglarizing a man's haberdashery. You're sure welcome to it, Gabriel." + +He kept the horse at a gallop, for he knew he would be pursued. But his +heart was lifted in him, for he was leaving behind him a shameful death. +All Sonora lay before him in which to hide, and in front of him +stretched a distant line beyond which was the U.S.A. and safety. + +The bench upon which he was riding dropped to a long roll of hills +stretching to the horizon. The chances were a hundred to one that among +these he would be securely hidden from the pursuit inside of an hour. + +"Git down in yore collar to it, you buckskin," he urged his pony +cheerfully. "This ain't no time to dream. You got to travel some, +believe me. Steve played a bum hand for all it was worth and I can see +where he's right to hit the grit some lively. Burn the wind, you +buzzard-haid." + +An hour later he drew his pony to a road gait and lifted his head to the +first faint flush of a dawning day. He sang softly, because by a miracle +of good fortune that coming sun brought him life and not death. The song +he caroled was, "When Gabriel blows his horn in the mawnin'." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CHAD DECIDES TO GET BUSY + + +After his failure to stop Yeager's escape, Culvera lost no time before +starting a party in pursuit. He knew there was small chance of finding +the American in that rolling sea of hills, but there was at least no +harm in making the attempt. + +As he walked to Pasquale's headquarters to make a report of the affair, +Culvera's mind was full of vague suspicions. How had this man escaped? +Had the old general freed him for some purpose of his own? Ramon had +seen condemned prisoners released by his chief before. Always within a +short time some enemy or doubtful friend of Pasquale had died a violent +death. Was it his turn now? Could it be that Pasquale was anticipating +his treachery? + +To learn that the general was out at three o'clock in the morning lent +no reassurance to his fears. After a moment's consideration the young +man turned his steps toward the house where Yeager had been confined. +But before starting he stopped in the shadow of a barn to see that his +revolvers were loose in the scabbards and in good working order. Nor did +he cross the moonlit open direct, but worked to his destination by a +series of tacks that kept him almost all the time in the darkness. + +The seventeen-year-old sentry was still doing duty outside the prison. +At sight of Culvera he stopped rolling a cigarette to snatch up his +rifle and fling a challenge at him. + +"How is it that you have let your prisoner escape?" demanded the officer +in Spanish after he had given the countersign. + +"Escape? No, señor. Listen. Do you not hear him move?" replied in the +boy in the same tongue. "I think the Gringo is having a fit. For +ten--twenty--minutes he has beat on the floor and kicked at the walls. +To die at daybreak is not to his liking." + +"Mil diablos! I tell you I saw him ride away. It is some one else in +there." + +"Some one else! But, no--that is impossible. Who else could it be?" As +he asked the question the boy's jaw fell slack. A horrible suspicion +pushed itself into his mind. + +"Estupido!" he continued in growing terror. "Can it be--the general?" + +"We shall see." + +Culvera stepped to the door. It was locked and the key gone. He called +aloud. His only answer was a strange, muffled sound like a groan and the +beating of feet upon the floor. + +With the butt of the sentry's rifle he hammered in the door at the lock +and by exerting all his strength forced the fastening. Lying in the +middle of the room, bound hand and foot, with his furious face upturned +to the moonlight, was Gabriel Pasquale. Culvera asked no foolish +questions, wasted no time. Kneeling beside his superior officer, he cut +the handkerchief that gagged him and the ropes that tied his limbs. +Together Ramon and the guard lifted him to his feet and held him for a +moment until his legs regained their power. + +"What devil has done this outrage?" asked Ramon. + +For a time Pasquale could only swallow and grunt. When the power of +speech returned, he broke into fierce and terrible maledictions. His +lieutenant listened in silence, extreme concern in his respectful face, +an unholy amusement bubbling up behind the deferential exterior. + +"Then it was the Gringo?" he asked when his chief ran out of breath and +for the moment ceased cursing. + +The insurgent leader went off into another explosion of rage. He would +cut his heart out while the American devil was still alive. He would +stake him out on the desert to broil to death beneath a Mexican sun. + +Culvera showed the hat that he had punctured with his bullet. "Thus near +I came to avenging you, general. See! One inch lower and I would have +taken off the top of his head. Already Fuentes is pursuing him. Perhaps +this Yeager may be dragged back to justice." + +Culvera asked no questions as to why the general was alone with a +condemned man at such an hour nor as to how the American had succeeded +in overpowering him. He understood that his chief's wounded vanity was +torturing the man enough to render curiosity unsafe. But the boyish +sentry did not know this. He ventured on a sympathetic question. + +"But, señor, Your Excellency, how did this Gringo devil, who was +unarmed, take away your revolver and tie you?" + +Pasquale, teeth clenched, whirled upon him. "You--dog of a peon--let +your prisoner walk away without a challenge and then dare to question +_me_!" + +The old soldier's fist shot out like a pile-driver. The blow lifted the +boy from his feet and flung him like a sack of meal against the wall. +His body hung there a moment, then dropped to the ground. A faint groan +was the only sound that showed he was not unconscious. + +The general strode from the room, Culvera at his heels. The brown mask +of his face told no stories of how the younger man was enjoying +himself. + +Before he slept, Ramon had one more pleasant task before him. He roused +Harrison to tell him the news. He sat smiling on the foot of the bed, +his eyes mocking the startled face of the prizefighter. + +"I come to bring you good news, señor," he jeered. "Your countryman has +escaped." + +Harrison sat up in bed. "What's that? Escaped, did you say? Where to?" + +The Mexican swept one arm around airily. "How should I know? He's +gone--broke out. He's taken a horse with him." + +"A horse!" repeated Harrison stupidly. + +"Just so--a horse. To ride upon, doubtless, since he was in somewhat of +a hurry. Odd that a horse happened to be waiting saddled for him at two +in the morning. Not so?" + +The American groped toward the point. "You mean--that he had friends, +that some one helped him to get away?" + +The other man shrugged his shoulders. "Do I? Quien sabe? Anyhow, he's +gone. Must be very disappointing to you, since you had promised yourself +to see his translation to heaven at sunrise." + +Harrison expressed himself bitterly in language emphatic and profane. + +Meanwhile Culvera smiled pleasantly and sympathetically. "You run +Pasquale a close second. He cursed the roof off when he found breath." + +"I'm not through with Yeager yet. Believe _me_, he'll have one +heluvatime before I'm done," boasted the prizefighter savagely. + +"You're still in entire accord with the chief. Yet our friend the Gringo +rides away in safety and laughs at you both. Ramon Culvera takes his hat +off to Señor Yeager. He has played a winning game with courage and +brains." + +"I beat his fool head off when he joined the Lunar Company--the very day +he joined. When I meet up with him again, I'll repeat," Harrison +bragged, hammering the pillow with his clenched fist. + +The Mexican looked politely incredulous. "Maybeso. This I say only. +Yeager has played one game with Pasquale, one with you, and one with me. +He comes out best each time. Of a sureness he is a strong man, wise, +cool, resourceful. Is it not so?" + +The prizefighter sputtered with wounded vanity. "Him! The boob's nothing +but a lucky guy. You'd ought to 'a' seen him after I fixed his map that +first day. Down and out he was, take my word for it." + +"If Señor Harrison says so," assented Culvera with polite mockery. "But +as you say, he laughs best who laughs last. And that reminds me. He +left a note to be forwarded a friend. Pasquale was too crazy mad to see +it, so I put it in my pocket." + +He handed to the other man the note Steve had written for Threewit. The +prizefighter read it in the dim light laboriously. + +"It was written, you perceive, before Pasquale shoved his big head into +a trap and gave him a chance to escape," explained the insurgent +officer. + +As Harrison read, certain phases of the situation arranged themselves +before his dull mind. He was acutely disappointed at the escape of his +enemy, since it was not likely the man would ever be caught again so +neatly. But now he forced himself to look beyond this to the +consequences. Yeager would tell all he knew when he reached Los Robles. +With the troopers warned against him Harrison knew he could no longer +move to and fro as freely on the American side. The very fact that he +was a suspect would greatly hamper his dealings. The Seymours would +probably turn against him for betraying the man who had risked his life +to save Phil from the effects of his folly. And what about Ruth? He knew +he held her by fear of trouble to Phil and by means of a sort of +magnetic clamp he had always imposed upon her will. Would she throw him +over now after she heard the story of the cowpuncher? + +His eyes were still fastened sulkily on the note while he was slowly +realizing these things. One line seemed to stand out from the rest. + +_Bust up that marriage if you can._ + +Harrison ground his teeth with impotent rage. This range-rider always +had interfered with his affairs from the first moment he had met him. If +ever he got the chance again to stamp him out--! The strong fingers of +the man worked with the nervous longing to tighten on the throat of the +gay youth who had worsted him in the duel the prizefighter had forced +upon him. The cowpuncher had introduced himself by knocking him down. A +few hours later he had turned a bruised and bleeding face up to him and +laughed without fear as if it were of no consequence. + +Yeager had stolen from him his reputation as a daring rider and a good +shot. He had driven him from the Lunar Company. Now he was going back to +spoil his plans for making money by rustling American stock and sending +contraband goods across the line. Not only that; he was going to take +from him the girl he was engaged to marry. + +"By God! I'll give him a run for it," the prizefighter announced +savagely and suddenly. + +"For what?" asked Culvera maliciously. + +"My business," retorted Harrison harshly, reaching for his clothes. + +Half an hour later he was galloping toward the north. If he could reach +Los Robles before Yeager did, he would turn a trick that would still +leave the odds in his favor. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +INTO THE DESERT + + +Ruth was baking apple pies in the kitchen. In her eyes there was a smile +and there were little dimples near the corners of her mouth. Evidently +she was thinking of something pleasant. Her nimble fingers ran around +the edge of the upper crust with a fork and scalloped a design. At odd +moments she would burst into a little rhapsody of song that appeared to +bubble out of her heart. + +Some one stepped into the doorway and shut out the sunlight. Her +questioning glance lifted, to meet the heavy frown of the man to whom +she was engaged. At sight of him the sunshine was extinguished from her +face, just as it had seemed to be from the room when his broad shoulders +had filled the opening. + +"You--Chad!" she cried. "I thought--" + +"Well, I ain't. I'm here," he broke in roughly. "And you don't look glad +to death to see me either." + +Her gentle eyes reproached him. "You're always welcome. You know that." + +His harsh face softened a little as he stepped forward and kissed her. +"Maybe I do, but maybe I like to hear you say so. Girl, I've come to +take you with me." + +"With you? Where?" Alarm was in the eyes that flashed to meet his. + +"To Noche Buena." + +"But--what for?" + +"Ain't it reason enough that I want you to go? We can get married at +Arixico to-night." + +She broke into protest disjointed and a little incoherent. "You promised +me that--that I could have all the time I wanted. You said--you said--" + +"That was when I was here to look after you. But I'll be staying in +Sonora quite a while the way my business affairs look. I need you--and +what's the sense of waiting, anyhow?" + +"No--no! I don't want to--not now. Please don't ask it, Chad, I--I don't +want to get married--yet." + +Sobs began to choke up her voice. Tears welled up in her eyes. + +"I don't see why you don't," he insisted sullenly. "Ain't trying to back +out, are you?" + +"No, but--" + +"You better not," he retorted with a threatening look. "I ain't the kind +of man it's safe to jilt." + +"You promised me all the time I wanted," she repeated. "You wouldn't +hurry me. That was what you said," she sobbed, breaking down suddenly. + +"All right," he conceded ungraciously. "I'm not forcing you to marry me +now. But I thought it best, seeing as I've got to ask you to go with me, +anyhow. O' course I can put you in charge of Carmen to chaperon you. +She's the woman that keeps house for Pasquale. But it kinder seemed to +me it would be better if you went as my wife. Then I could take care of +you." + +"Go with you--now? What do you mean, Chad?" + +"It's this fellow Yeager. He's shot himself, and he wants to see you +before he dies." From his pocket he took the note Steve had written to +Threewit and handed it to Ruth. "You don't have to go, but I hate to +turn down a fellow when he's all in and ready to quit the game." + +She read the note, her face like chalk. Not for a moment did she doubt +that the cowpuncher had written it. Even if her mind had harbored any +vague suspicions one line in the letter would have swept them away. +_Bust up that marriage if you can._ She knew to what marriage he +referred. Nobody but Yeager could have written those words. + +"But he says--he says"--her voice shook, but she forced herself to go +on--"that this letter isn't to be sent until his death." + +"Yep. So it does. But he got to asking for you. So I just lit out to +give you a chance to go if you want to. It's up to you. Do just as you +please." + +"Of course I'll go. Is he--is he as bad as he says?" + +"Pretty bad, the doc says. But I reckon he's good for a day or two. My +advice would be to start right away, though, if you want to see him +alive." + +"Yes. That would be best. I'll see mother now." She stopped at the door +and leaned against the jamb a little faintly, then turned toward him. +"It was fine of you to come, Chad. I know you don't like him. But--I +won't forget." + +"Oh, tha's all right," he mumbled. + +"Have you seen Mr. Threewit yet?" she asked. + +"Threewit--no." He was for a moment puzzled at her question. "No--he's +out getting a set somewheres in the hills." + +Ruth came back and took the note from Harrison's reluctant fingers. "He +ought to get this at once. I'll send Billie Brown out with it. He'll +explain to Mr. Threewit about us going on ahead and not waiting for +him." + +The prizefighter did not quite like the idea. He would rather have kept +the note himself and burnt it later. But it was out of his charge now. +Without stirring doubts he could not make any objection. Anyhow, he +would be in Sonora and safely married to Ruth long before the deception +was discovered. + +Mrs. Seymour made her protest against such an unconventional trip, but +Ruth rode her objections down after the fashion of American girls. + +"Why can't I go for a ride with the man to whom I'm engaged? What's +wrong with it? I'll stay with the lady that keeps house for General +Pasquale. In two or three days I'll be back. Don't say no, mommsie." +Her voice broke a little as she pleaded the cause. "He's dying--Mr. +Yeager is--and he wants to see me. I'd always blame myself if I didn't +go. I've just got to go." + +"I don't see why you have to go riding all over the country to see one +man when you're engaged to another. In my time--" + +"If Chad doesn't object, why should you?" + +"Oh, I know you'll go. I suppose it's all right, but I wish Phil could +go with you too." + +"So do I, but of course he can't. Chad says that affairs are so +disturbed across the line that probably the Government won't make Phil +any trouble, but that if he showed himself in Sonora some of the friends +of that man Mendoza would be sure to kill him." + +"I suppose so." Mrs. Seymour sighed. Her harum-scarum young son was on +her mind a good deal. "Now, don't you fret, honey, about Steve Yeager. +He's the kind of man that will take a lot of killing. A man who has +lived outdoors in the saddle for a dozen years is liable to get over a +wound that would finish some one else." + +In his haste to reach Los Robles before Yeager the prizefighter had +ruined the horse he rode. He picked up another one cheap and got for +Ruth her brother's pony. Within an hour of his arrival the two animals +were brought round for the start. + +The mother, still a little troubled in her mind, took Harrison aside for +a last word. + +"Chad Harrison, you look after my little girl and see no harm comes to +her. If anything happens to her I'll never forgive you." + +"Rest easy about that, Mrs. Seymour. You don't think any more of Ruth +than I do. If I thought there was any danger I sure wouldn't take her. +She'll come back to you safe and sound," he promised. + +They rode away in the afternoon sunlight toward the south. It had been +understood that they were to spend the night at the Lazy B Ranch, but at +the point where the road for the ranch deflected from the main pike +Harrison drew rein. + +"Too bad there isn't another ranch farther on. It's a little better than +six o'clock now. We'll lose a heap of time by stopping here. Soon the +moon will be out and we could keep going till we reach Lone Tree Spring. +Stopping there for two or three hours' rest, we could ride in to Noche +Buena by breakfast time. But I reckon you're tired, ain't you?" + +"I'm not--not a bit," she answered eagerly. "Let's go on. It's cooler +traveling in the evening, anyhow." + +He appeared to hesitate, then shook his head. "No--o, I expect that +wouldn't be proper. If you was a boy instead of a girl I'd say sure." + +"Don't let's be silly, Chad," she pleaded. "We want to get there as soon +as we can. It makes no difference if I am a girl." + +"I promised your maw I'd take good care of you. Would it be doing that +to let you stay up 'most all night?" + +"Of course it would. We can sleep some at Lone Tree. I want to go on, +Chad." + +"All right," he conceded with a manner of reluctance. + +This was what Harrison desired. If Yeager reached Los Robles before +night a search party would be sent out. It would go straight toward the +Lazy B. Chad wanted to get across the line and put as many miles as +possible between him and the pursuit. + +Deep into the desert they struck, keeping for the most part to a rapid +road gait. The dusty miles spun out behind them as they covered white +sunbaked levels, cut across rough hillsides of rubble, dipped into sandy +washes, and wound forward through wastes of cactus and zacaton. + +By the time the moon was riding high in the heavens Ruth was very tired. +Her shoulders drooped and she clung to the pommel of the saddle. But she +did not ask Chad to stop and let her rest. She would rather have been +whipped than have confessed exhaustion. Whenever she thought he might be +looking at her, the weary shoulders straightened with a pathetic attempt +at jauntiness. + +The man knew how completely fagged she was. Riding behind her through +the silver night, his greedy eyes noted her game struggle not to give +in. He saw the flowing lines of the girlish figure relax with fatigue. +No longer was the gallant little dusky head poised lightly above the +flat straight back. But he made no offer to rest. It was essential that +they should get beyond any chance of capture by her friends. Once he had +her safely in his hands she might sleep round the clock undisturbed. + +It was midnight before they rode into the cottonwoods of Lone Tree +Spring. Chad lifted her, stiff and cold from lack of circulation, to the +ground. She clung to his coat sleeve for a moment dizzily before she +limped forward to the live-oak that gave the place its name. The girl +sank down beside the water-hole with her back to the trunk of the tree. + +There was faint, humorous apology in the tired smile she lifted to the +man. + +"I guess I'm what the boys call a quitter, Chad," she decided. + +"You're a game little thoroughbred," he blurted out. "You're all in. +That's what's the matter with you. Never mind, little girl. I'll fix the +tarps so as you can get some sleep. When you wake you'll be good as +ever." + +"Don't let me sleep too long. Perhaps I'd better just rest." + +"No; take a couple of hours' sleep. I'll wake you when it's time to go." + +He brought the saddle blankets, spread them on the ground, and covered +them with his slicker. His coat served for a pillow. Above her he spread +a tarp and tucked the edges under. + +"You're good to me, Chad," she told him with a sleepy little smile. + +"I aim to be." He stooped and kissed her with a sudden passionate +impulse. + +Startled at his roughness, she drew back. "Don't ... please!" + +He rose abruptly. "Go to sleep," was his harsh command. + +A vague uneasiness that was almost fear stirred in her mind. She did not +know this man at all. Except for the merest surface commonplaces he was +a stranger to her. Yet she had promised to give her life into his +keeping. They were alone together in this moonlit night of stars, a +thousand miles from all the safeguards that had always hedged her soft +youth. After she had married him they would always be together. Even her +mother and Phil would be outsiders. So would all her friends--Daisy +Ellington and Frank Farrar ... and Steve Yeager if he lived. And he must +live. She affirmed that passionately, clung to the thought of it as a +drowning man does to a plank. He would get well--of course he would.... + +And so she fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE NIGHT TRAIL + + +Yeager rode into Los Robles an hour after Harrison and Ruth had left. He +turned in at the Lunar stables the pony Pasquale had so kindly donated +to his use and walked across town to the Seymour bungalow. Passing +through the garden and round the house, he disappeared without being +seen into the remodeled barn where he lodged. + +He felt bully. After an adventure that had been a close call he was back +home among friends who would be glad to see him. As he took his bath and +shaved and dressed he broke occasionally into a whistle of sheer +exuberant joy of life. He intended to surprise the folks by walking down +and taking his place with the others when the dinner bell rang. Daisy +Ellington would clap her hands and sparkle in her enthusiastic way. +Shorty would begin to poke fun at him. Mrs. Seymour would probably just +smile in her slow, motherly fashion and see that he got one of the +choice steaks. And Ruth--would she flash at him her swift dimpled smile +of pleasure? Or would she still be harboring malice toward him for +having warned her against Harrison? + +Steve waited until he thought they would be seated before he opened the +door and stepped into the dining-room. The effect was not at all what he +had expected. Daisy was the first to see him. She dropped her knife on +the plate with a clatter and gave a little scream. Shorty stopped a +spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth, as if he were waiting to have a +still picture of himself taken. His eyes stared and his jaw fell. Mrs. +Seymour, who was bringing a platter from the kitchen, stood stock-still +in the doorway. The expression, on her face arrested Yeager's smile. + +"What's the matter with you all? Looks like you were seeing a ghost," he +said. + +"Where did you come from, Steve Yeager?" demanded Mrs. Seymour. + +"Me? Why, I came from my room--reached town an hour or so ago." + +Something cold clutched at the heart of the mother. "Where from? Weren't +you in Sonora?" + +"Sure I was. At Noche Buena. And I want to tell you that I've had enough +of that burg for quite some time." + +Daisy broke in. "Isn't it true that you were shot?" + +He turned to her, surprised. "How did you hear that story already. No, +it ain't true. I was to have been shot this mawnin', but I broke jail +and made a getaway." + +"But--your letter said you had shot yourself and couldn't live long. I +read it myself. Mr. Threewit showed it to me before he left." + +"And Mr. Harrison told us it was true," corroborated Mrs. Seymour. She +knew something was wrong, but as yet she could not guess what. + +"Harrison! Has he been here?" asked Yeager sharply. + +"He and Ruth left this afternoon for Noche Buena. He said you wanted to +see her before you died and he showed us the letter you had written." + +The range-rider stood paralyzed. The truth flashed numbingly over his +brain. + +"Ruth--gone with Harrison--to Noche Buena," was all he could say. + +Again Daisy cut in, this time sharply. "Tell us your story, Steve. What +is it that's wrong?" + +In a dozen sentences he told it. They listened tensely. The mother was +the first to break the silence after he had finished. She began to sob. +Steve put an arm across her shoulder awkwardly. + +"Now, don't you, Mrs. Seymour. Don't you take on. We'll get right on his +trail." He turned abruptly to Orman. "Get horses saddled. We'll hit the +road right away. Daisy, call up Threewit and let him know. I'll take +your gat, Shorty." + +The edge of decision was in his voice. Nobody disputed the orders of +this lean, brown, sunbaked youth with the alert, quiet, masterful eyes. +In his manner was something more deadly than threats. More than one of +those present thought he would not like to be Harrison. + +"Mr. Threewit has gone. He and Frank started for Noche Buena almost an +hour ago. They went because of your letter," explained Miss Ellington. + +"Good. We'll probably catch them. Jackson, find out if they went armed +and see that we all have rifles as well as six-guns. Get a move on you. +We'll start in ten minutes from the hotel." + +Within the stipulated time they were in the saddle. Steve looked his +posse over with an eye competent and vigilant. "Orman, you and Bob ride +straight to the Lazy B. Harrison gave it out he was going to stop there +for the night. Me, I think he was lying. If he hasn't been there, cut +acrost to Gila Creek and follow the bed. Jackson and Dan, you go +straight south for the old Pima water-hole and sweep along below the +edge of the mesa. I'll have a try more to the east. Mind, no slip-up, +boys. And don't forget Harrison wears his guns low. If you have to +shoot, aim to kill." + +Phil Seymour came running down the road. "What's this they're telling +about Ruth and Harrison?" he demanded. + +Yeager had no time for explanations. He turned the boy over to one of +the others. "Tell him about it, Jackson. If he wants to go along, take +him with you and Dan. We'll all meet to-morrow noon at Sieber's Pass." + +He shot down the road at a gallop, leaving behind him a cloud of gray +dust. The others followed at a canter. Their horses had to cover many +miles before morning and there was no use in running them off their legs +at the start. + +Jackson, waiting for Phil to rope and saddle a pony, yelled a caution to +the others. + +"Keep yore shirts on, boys. This ain't no hundred-yard dash. Steve's +burnin' the wind because he's got to haid off Harrison from Pasquale's +camp. All we got to do is to drive him up to Steve." + +Phil cut out and roped a pony, then slapped on a saddle. Presently he +and Jackson were following the others down the dust-filled road. + +The boy spoke his fears aloud, endeavoring to reassure himself. + +"Chad won't hurt Ruth any. He wouldn't dare. This country won't stand +for that kind of a play with a girl. Arizona would hang him to the first +telegraph pole that was handy." + +The cowpuncher looked at him and spoke dryly. "I reckon the skunk's been +out of Arizona quite some time. He's in greaser land now, and I never +heard tell that Pasquale was so darned particular what his men did. Just +tie a knot in this: if Harrison reaches the insurrecto camp with yore +sister, she'll come back as his wife--or not at all." + +"By God! I'll kill Harrison at sight if he hurts a hair of her head," +the boy cried, a lump in his throat. + +"Mebbe you will, mebbe you won't. Chad ain't just what you'd call a +white man. He'll shoot out of the chaparral if he's pressed. Someone's +going to git hurt if we bump into Mr. Harrison. It won't be no picnic +a-tall to take him. He's liable to be more hos-tile than a nest of +yellow jackets." + +"Leave him to me if we come up with him. I'll shoot it out with him," +the boy cried wildly. + +Jackson grinned. "You're crazy with the heat, boy. What do you reckon I +bought chips in this game for? I want a crack at the coyote myself." + +Phil and Jackson caught up with old Dan a mile or so beyond the point +where the road to the Lazy B left the main traveled trail. + +"The other boys hitting the dust for the ranch?" asked Jackson. + +"Yep." + +"Yeager's got it right. They won't find Harrison there. He'll go through +with his play. Chad's no quitter." + +Dan nodded. He was a reticent man of about fifty-five with a bald head +and a face of wrinkled leather. + +"We'll git him sure," Phil spoke up, announcing his hope rather than his +conviction. "Steve knows what he's doing, you bet." + +Yeager himself was not so sure. Doubts tortured him as to the +destination of Harrison. Perhaps, after all, he might be making for some +refuge in the hills and not for Pasquale's headquarters. He knew that as +soon as word reached them the Lazy B riders would begin to comb the +desert in pursuit. But what were a dozen riders among these thousand +hill pockets of the desert? The best chance was to catch the man at some +one of the few water-holes. But if he pushed on at full speed the +chances were all in his favor considering the long start he had. + +The range-rider was astride the fastest horse in the Lunar stables. +Steve had taken his pick of the mounts, for his work was cut out for +him. Hitherto the luck had all been with Harrison. If Yeager had not met +one of the old Lone Star boys, now riding for the Hashknife outfit, and +stopped to join him in a long talk over their cigarettes, Steve would +have reached Los Robles in time to spoil the man's plan. Or if he had +gone direct to Mrs. Seymour instead of fooling away a good hour and a +half in his room, he would have cut down his enemy's start by so much +golden time. + +Now all he could do was to get every foot of speed from his horse that +could be coaxed. He rode like a Centaur, giving with his lithe, supple +body to every motion of the animal. But though he took steep hillsides +of shale on the run, the pony slithering down in a slide of rubble like +a cat, the rider's alert eyes watched the footing keenly. He could +afford if necessary to break a leg himself, but he could not afford to +have the horse suffer such an accident. Not for nothing had he ridden on +the roundup for many years. Few men even in Arizona could have +negotiated safely such a bit of daredevil travel as he was doing this +night. + +His brains were busy, too, on the problem before him. Times and +distances he figured, took into account the animals Harrison and Ruth +were riding, estimated her strength and her companion's feverish haste +to reach safety with her. They would have to stop at a water-hole +somewhere, either on Gila Creek, or the old Pima camping-ground, or else +at Lone Tree Spring. The most direct route to Noche Buena was by Lone +Tree. Harrison was in a deuce of a hurry. Therefore he would choose the +shortest way. So Yeager guessed and hoped. + +His watch told him it was an hour past midnight when Steve drew close +to Lone Tree Spring. He was following a sandy wash into the soft bed of +which the hoofs of his horse sank without noise. They were perhaps two +hundred yards from the spring when the ears of his pony lifted. That was +enough for Yeager. He dismounted and trailed the reins, guessing that +the wind had brought the scent of other horses to his own. Quietly he +moved forward, rifle in hand ready for action. + +The heart of him jumped when he caught sight of two picketed horses +grazing on the bench above. He worked forward with infinite care along +the bank of the wash till he reached the first of the cottonwoods. From +here he could catch a glimpse of something huddled lying under the +live-oak. This no doubt was the sleeping girl. The figure of a heavy-set +man stood with his back to Yeager in silhouette against the skyline. + +Yeager crawled forward another fifteen yards. A twig snapped under his +knee. The figure in silhouette whirled. Steve rose at the same instant, +rifle raised to his shoulder. + +"Don't move," he advised quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE CAVE MEN + + +Harrison stared at him dumfounded, chin down and jutting, his hand +hovering longingly close to the butt of a revolver. He stood so for an +instant in silence, crouched and tense. + +"Damn you, so you're here," he said at last in a low, hoarse voice. + +"Don't make another pass like that or I'll plug you. Unbuckle that belt +and drop it. That's right. Now, kick it from you." + +"What do you want?" demanded the man under the gun savagely after he had +obeyed instructions. + +"You know what I want, you wolf." Steve moved forward till he was about +fifteen feet from the other. His eyes did not lift for a moment from the +man he covered. + +They glared at each other, two savage, primeval men with the murder lust +in their hearts. All that centuries of civilization had brought them was +just now quenched. + +Then the woman, the third factor in the triangle, stirred restlessly and +awoke. She looked at them incuriously from innocent eyes still heavy +with slumber. Gradually the meaning of the scene came home to her, and +with it a realization that Steve Yeager was standing before her in the +flesh. + +"You--here!" she cried, scarce believing. + +"The cur lied," explained the cowpuncher. "It was a frame-up to get you +in his power." + +"But your letter said--" + +"Never mind about that now. Go down into the wash and bring up my horse. +It needs water." + +She hesitated. "You're not going to hurt him, Steve?" + +"That's between him and me. Do as I say." + +Ruth scarcely recognized in this grim, hard-faced man with the blazing +eyes the gay youth whom she knew at home. She felt in his manner the +steel of compulsion. Without further protest she moved to obey him. She +was fearful of what was about to take place, but her heart leaped with +gladness. Steve was alive and strong. It was not true that he lay with +the life ebbing out of him, all the supple strength stolen from his +well-knit body. For the moment that was happiness enough. + +Harrison, watching with narrowed eyes the stone-wall face of his captor, +jeered at him hardily. + +"Now you got a strangle holt on me, what you aim to do?" + +"I'm going to take you back to the boys that are combing these hills for +you. They'll do all that's done." + +The prisoner's sneer went out of commission. He did not need to ask what +Arizona cowpunchers would do to him under the circumstances. + +"I figured your size was about a twenty-two--not big enough to fight it +out alone with me. Once is a-plenty." + +The cave man's desire to beat down his enemy with his naked hands +smouldered fiercely in the cowpuncher's heart. + +"Step out in front of me and saddle those horses," he ordered. + +Harrison looked at him murderously. His mouth was an ugly, crooked gash. +Boiling with rage, he saddled, cinched, and watered the horses. + +Ruth had returned with Steve's pony. Her heart beat fast with +excitement. An instinct told her they were about to come to grips in +epic struggle. + +"You're mighty high-heeled now when you got a gun thrown on me. Put it +in the discard and I'll beat the life out o' you," threatened the +prizefighter. + +Not releasing the other man with his eyes, Yeager lent one hand to help +Ruth mount. He gave clear, curt instructions in a level voice. + +"Take all three horses and ride to the edge of the mesa. Wait there. +One of us--either him or me--will come up there after a while. If it's +him, take all the horses and light out. Keep the moon on your left and +ride straight forward till daybreak. You'll see a gash in the hills +about where the sun rises. That's Sieber's Pass. The boys will be +waiting for you. Understand?" + +"Yes, but--What are you going to do, Steve?" she cried almost in a +whisper. + +"That's my business--and I'm going to attend to it. Keep your mind on +the directions I've given. If it's Harrison that comes up over the hill, +get right out with all the horses. Gimme your promise on that." + +Trembling, she gave it to him. + +"Don't you be afraid. No need of that. _It won't be him. It'll be me +that comes._ But if it should be him, don't let him get close. Shoot him +first. It will be to save you from worse than death. Have you got the +nerve to do it?" + +Something in his manner, in his voice, rang a bell in her heart. She +nodded, her throat too dry for speech. + +"All right. Go now. And don't make any mistake whatever you do. Follow +out exactly what I've told you." + +Again she promised. He handed to her the rifle. She rode away, taking +the other horses with her. + +When she was out of sight in a dip of the draw, Harrison spoke. + +"Well, what is it to be? I see you got your gats yet. Going to shoot me +down like a coyote?" + +"That's what you deserve. That's what you'd get if the Lazy B boys got +hold of you. But I'm going to kill you with my bare hands, you wolf." + +With what seemed a single motion of his hands he unbuckled the revolver +belt from his waist and flung it from him. Crouched like a tiger, he +moved slowly forward, the flow of his muscles rhythmic and graceful. + +The prizefighter could scarce believe his luck. He threw out his salient +chin and laughed triumphantly. "You damned fool! I've got you at last. +I've got you." + +Light as a panther, Yeager lashed out with his left and caught flush the +point of that protruding chin. The grinning head went back as if it had +been on hinges. Shoulders, buttocks, and heels hit the ground together. +The range-rider was on him as a terrier lights on a rat. Jarred though +his brains were, the instinct of self-preservation served the man +underneath. He half turned, flung an arm around the neck of his foe, and +clung tightly even while he covered up. Steve's fist hammered at the +back of the close-cropped head. The prizefighter swung over, face down, +rose to his hands and knees by sheer strength, then reached for his neck +grip again. + +Yeager eluded him, throwing all his weight forward to force his opponent +down again. Harrison gave suddenly. They rolled over and over, fighting +and clawing like wild cats, two bipeds in a death struggle as fierce and +ruthless as that between wolves or grizzlies. No words were spoken. They +were back in the primitive Stone Age before speech was invented. +Snarling and growling, they fought with an appalling fury. + +Presently they were back on their feet again. Toe to toe they stood, +rocking each other with sledgehammer blows. Blood poured from the beaten +faces of both. Harrison clinched. They staggered to and fro before they +went down heavily, Yeager underneath. The prizefighter thrust his right +forearm under the chin of his enemy and with his left thumb and middle +finger gouged at the eyes of the man beneath him. Steve's legs moved up, +encircled those of the rustler, and swiftly straightened. With a bellow +of pain Harrison flung himself free and clambered to his feet. The legs +of his trousers had been ripped open for a foot. Blood streamed from his +calves where the sharp rowels of the range-rider's spurs had torn the +flesh. + +They quartered over the ground many times as they fought. Sometimes +they were on their feet slogging hard. Once, at least, they crouched +knee to knee. Lying on the ground, they struck no less furiously and +desperately. All sense of fair play, of sportsmanship, was gone. They +struggled to kill and not be killed. + +Their lungs labored heavily. They began to stagger as they moved. The +muscles of their arms lost their resilience. Their legs dragged as +though weighted. Harrison was, if a choice might be made, in worse case. +He was the stronger man, but he lacked the tireless endurance of the +other. Watching him with animal wariness, Yeager knew that the man who +went down first would stay down. His enemy was sagging at the knees. He +could with difficulty lift his arms. He fought only in spurts. All this +was true of himself, too. But somewhere in him was that dynamic will not +to be beaten that counted heavily as a reserve. + +The prizefighter called on himself for the last attack. He stumbled +forward, head down, in a charge. An aimless blow flung Steve against the +trunk of the live-oak. His arms thrashing wildly, Harrison plunged +forward to finish him. The cowpuncher ducked, lurched to one side. +Against the bark of the tree crashed the fist of the other, swinging him +half round. + +Yeager flung himself on the back of his foe. Human bone and flesh and +muscle could do no more. The knees of Harrison gave and he sank to the +ground, his head falling in the spring. His opponent, breathless and +exhausted, lay motionless on top of him. For a time both lay without +stirring. The first to move was Steve. He noticed that the nose and +mouth of the senseless man lay beneath the water. By exerting all his +strength he pulled the battered head almost out of the water. Very +slowly and painfully he got to his feet. Leaning against the tree for +support, he looked down at the helpless white face of the man he had +hated so furiously only a few minutes earlier. That emotion had entirely +vanished. It was impossible to feel any resentment against that bruised +and bleeding piece of clay. Steve was conscious only of a tremendous +desire to lie down and go to sleep. + +He laved his face with water as best he could, picked up the belt he had +thrown away, and drunkenly climbed the hill toward Ruth. + +She cried out at sight of him with a heart of joy, but as he lurched +nearer she slid from the horse and ran toward him. Could this be the man +she had left but half an hour since so full of vital strength and youth? +His vest and shirt were torn to ribbons so that they did not cover the +mauled and bruised flesh at all. Every exposed inch of his head and body +had its wounds to show. He was drenched with blood. The sight of his +face wrung her heart. + +"What did he do to you?" she cried with a sob, slipping an arm round his +waist to support him. + +"I said I'd be the one to come," he told her as he leaned against the +neck of his pony. + +"Oh, why did you do it?" And swiftly on the heels of that cry came the +thought of relief for him. "I'll get you water. I'll bathe your wounds." + +"No. We've got to get out of here. Any time some of Pasquale's men may +come. His camp is not far." + +"But you can't go like that. You're hurt." + +"That's all right. Nothing the matter with me. Can you get on alone?" + +"Can you?" she asked in turn, after she had swung to the saddle. + +He had to try it three times before he succeeded in getting into the +seat. So weak was he that as the horse moved he had to cling with both +hands to the pommel of the saddle to steady himself. Ruth rode close +beside him, all solicitude and anxiety. + +"You ought not to be riding. I know your wounds hurt you cruelly," she +urged in a grave and troubled voice. + +"I reckon I can stand the grief. When I've had a bath and a good sleep +I'll be good as new." + +She asked timidly the question that filled her mind. "Did you--What +about him?" + +"Did I kill him? Is that what you mean?" + +"Yes," she murmured. + +"No, I reckon not. He was lying senseless when I left, but I expect +he'll come to." + +"Oh, I hope so ... I do hope so." + +He looked at her, asking no questions. Some men would have broken into +denunciation of the scoundrel, would have defended the course they had +followed. This man did neither the one nor the other. She might think +what she pleased. He had fought from an inner compulsion, not to win her +applause. No matter how she saw it he could offer no explanations or +apologies. + +"I hope so because--because of you," she continued. "Now I know him for +what he is. I'm through with him for always." Then, in a sudden burst of +frankness: "I never did trust him, really." + +"You've had good luck. Some women find out things too late," he +commented simply. + +After that they rode in silence, except at long intervals when she asked +him if he was in pain or too tired to travel. The lightening of the sky +for the coming dawn found them still in the saddle with the jagged +mountain line rising vaguely before them in the darkness like a long +shadow. Presently they could make out the gash in the range that was +Sieber's Pass. + +"Some of the boys will be waiting there for us, I reckon," Steve said. +"They'll be glad to see you safe." + +"If I'm safe, they'll know who brought it about." Her voice trembled as +she hurried on: "I can't thank you. All I can say is that I understand +from what you saved me." + +He looked away at the distant hills. "That's all right. I had the good +luck to be in the right place. Any of the boys would have been glad of +the chance." + +After a time they saw smoke rising from a hollow in the hills. They were +climbing steadily now by way of a gulch trail. This opened into a draw. +A little back from the stream a man was bending over a camp-fire. He +turned his head to call to a second man and caught sight of them. It was +Orman. He let out a whoop of gladness when he recognized Ruth. Others +came running from a little clump of timber. + +Phil lifted his sister from the saddle and kissed her. He said nothing, +since he could not speak without breaking down. + +Jackson looked at Steve in amazement. "You been wrastling with a +circular saw?" he asked. + +It hurt Yeager's broken face to smile, but he attempted it. "Had a +little difference of opinion with Chad. We kind o' talked things over." + +Nobody asked anything further. It is the way of outdoor Arizona to take +a good deal for granted. This man was torn and tattered and bruised. His +face was cut open in a dozen places. Purple weals and discolorations +showed how badly his body had been punished. He looked a fit subject for +a hospital. But every one who looked into his quiet, unconquered eyes +knew that he had come off victor. + +"First off, a bath in the creek to get rid of these souvenirs Chad sent +to my address. Then it's me for the hay," he announced. + +Ruth watched him go, lean, sinewy, and wide-shouldered. His stride was +once more light and strong, for with the passing hours power had flowed +back into his veins. She sighed. He was a man that would go the limit +for his friends. He was gentle, kindly, full of genial and cheerful +courage. But she knew now there was another side to him, a quality that +was tigerish, that snarled like a wolf in battle. Why was it that men +must be so? + +Old Dan chuckled. "Ain't he the lad? Stove up to beat all get-out. But +I'd give a dollar Mex to see the other man. He's sure a pippin to see +this glad mawnin'." + +Something of what was groping in her mind broke from Ruth into words. +"Why do men fight like that? It's dreadful." + +Dan scratched his shiny bald head. "It straightens out a heap of things +in this little old world. My old man used to say to me when I was a kid, +'Son, don't start trouble, but when it's going, play yore hand out.' +That's how it is with Steve. He ain't huntin' trouble anywhere, but he +ce'tainly plays his hand out." + +Phil took charge of his sister. He gave her coffee and breakfast, then +arranged blankets so that she could get a few hours' sleep in comfort. +Orman rode back to Los Robles to carry the word to Mrs. Seymour that +Ruth had been rescued and was all right. The others lounged about camp +while Yeager and the girl slept. + +At noon they were wakened. Coffee was served again, after which they +rode down from the pass and started home. Before supper-time they were +back in Los Robles. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +STEVE WINS A HAM SANDWICH + + +Yeager was roused from sleep next morning by a knock at the door. His +visitor was Fleming Lennox, leading man of the company. + +"Say, Steve, what about Threewit and Farrar? I just telephoned to the +Lazy B Ranch and the foreman says his boys did not run across them. You +know what that means. They've reached old Pasquale's camp." + +Yeager sat up in bed and whistled softly to himself. This was a +contingency he had not foreseen. What would the Mexican chief do to two +of the range-rider's friends who delivered themselves into his hands so +opportunely? Steve did not think he would kill them offhand, but he was +very sure they would not be at liberty to return home. Moreover, +Harrison would be on the ground, eager for revenge. The prizefighter +never had liked Farrar. He had sworn to get even with Threewit. An added +incentive to this course was the fact that he knew them both to be on +very good terms with his chief enemy. Without doubt Chad would do his +best to stimulate the insurgent leader to impulsive violence. + +The man in bed concealed his apprehension under a comical grin. "This +life's just one damned thing after another, looks like," he commented. +"I didn't figure on that. I thought sure the boys would bump into +Threewit. That slip-up surely spills the beans." + +"You don't think even Pasquale would dare hurt them, do you?" asked +Lennox anxiously. + +"Search me. Pasquale's boiled in p'ison, especially when he is drunk. +He'd do whatever he had a mind to do." + +"What's the matter with us sending a messenger down there with a fake +wire from the old man to Threewit telling him to hustle up and get busy +right away on a feature film? Pasquale would have to show his hand, +anyhow. We'd know where we were at." + +Yeager assented. "He'd have to turn them loose or hold them. But even if +he turned them loose, he might arrange to have them accidentally killed +by bandits before they reached home. Still, it would put one thing right +up to him--that their friends know where they are and are ready to sick +Uncle Sam on him if he don't act proper." + +Manderson, Miss Winters, and Daisy Ellington were called into council +after breakfast. The situation was canvassed from all sides, but in the +end they stood where they had been at the beginning. Nobody felt sure +what Pasquale would do or knew whether the visitors at his camp would +be detained as prisoners. The original suggestion of Lennox seemed the +best under the circumstances. + +Old Juan Yuste was brought in from the stables and given the telegram. +He was told nothing except that it was urgent that Threewit get the +message as soon as possible. The five-dollar gold-piece which Lennox +tossed to the Mexican drew a grin that exposed a mouth half empty of +teeth. + +In the absence of both Threewit and Farrar the business of producing +films was at a standstill. The members of the company took an enforced +holiday. Manderson read a novel. Daisy wrote letters. Lennox and Miss +Winters went for a long stroll. Steve helped Baldy Cummings mend broken +saddles and other property stuff. The extras played poker. + +Juan returned late in the evening on the second day. He brought with him +a letter addressed to Lennox. It was from Pasquale. The message was +written in English. It said:-- + + Greetings, señor. Your friends are the guests of General Pasquale. + They came to Noche Buena to find one Señor Yeager. They are + resolved to stay here until he is found by them, even though they + remain till the day of their death. + +The note was signed, "Siempre, Gabriel Pasquale." + +After reading, it, Yeager handed the note back to Lennox and spoke +quietly. + +"Pasquale passes the buck up to me. I've been thinking he might do +that." + +"You mean--?" + +"--That he serves notice he's going to kill our friends if I don't give +myself up to him." + +"But would he? Dare he?" + +Yeager shrugged. "It will happen in the usual Mexican way--killed by +accident while trying to escape, or else ambushed by Federals on the +desert while coming home, according to the story that will be dished up +to the papers. He will be full of regrets and apologies to our +Government, but that won't help Threewit or Frank any." + +"Don't you think he's bluffing? Pasquale hasn't a thing against either +of them. He surely wouldn't murder them in cold blood." + +"I don't know whether he is or not. But it's up to me to sit in and take +cards. They went down to Noche Buena on my account. I'm going down on +theirs." + +Lennox stared incredulously at him. "You don't mean you're going to give +yourself up. Pasquale would hang up your hide to dry." + +"That's just what he would do, after he had boiled me in oil or given me +some other pleasant diversion. No, I reckon I'll not give myself up. +I'll join his army again." + +"I give it up, Steve. Tell me the answer." + +"As a private this time." + +"Fat chance you'll have, with Friend Harrison there to spot you, not to +mention the old boy himself and Culvera." + +"It won't be Steve Yeager that joins. It will be a poor peon from the +hills named Pedro or Juan or Pablo." + +"You're going to rig up as a Mexican?" + +"Some guesser, Lennox." + +"You can't put it over, not with your face looking like a pounded +beefsteak. I judge you don't know what an Exhibit A you are at present. +The first time Chad looked at you, he would recognize the result of his +uppercuts and swings." + +"So he would. I'll have to wait a week or so. Send Juan back to Pasquale +and tell him you hear I'm in the Lone Star country where I used to +punch. Say you've sent for me with an offer to take Harrison's place in +the company, and that if I come you'll arrange with him to have me taken +by his men while we're doing a set near the line. He'll fall for that +because he'll be so keen to get me that any chance will look good to +him. You'll have to give Juan a tip not to let it out I'm here." + +"What can you do if you get into Pasquale's camp as one of his men?" + +"I don't know. Something will turn up." + +"You're taking a big chance, Steve." + +"Not because I want to. But I've got to do what I can for the boys. This +ain't just the time for a 'watchful waiting' policy, seems to me. If +you've got anything better to offer, I'm agreeable to listen." + +"The only thing I can think of is to appeal to Uncle Sam." + +"That won't get us much. But there's no harm in trying. Have the old man +stir up a big dust at Washington. After plenty of red tape an official +representation will be made to Pasquale. He will lie himself black in +the face. More correspondence. More explanations. Finally, if the +prisoners are still alive, they will start home. Mebbe they'll get here. +Mebbe they won't." + +"Then you don't think it's worth trying?" + +"Sure I do. Every little helps. It might make Pasquale sit steady in the +boat till I get a chance to pull off something." + +When Daisy Ellington heard of the plan she went straight to Yeager. + +"What's this I hear about you committing suicide?" she demanded. + +"News to me, compadre," smiled the puncher. + +"You're not really going down there to shove your head into that den of +wolves, are you?" Without waiting for an answer she pushed on to a +prediction. "Because if you do, they'll surely snap it off." + +"Wish you'd change your brand of prophecy, niña. You see, this is the +only head I've got. I'm some partial to it." + +"Then you had better keep away from that old Pasquale and Chad Harrison. +Don't be foolish, Steve." She caught the lapels of his coat and shook +him fondly. "If you don't know when you're well off, your friends do. +We're not going to let you go." + +"Threewit and Farrar," he reminded her. + +"They'll have to take their chance. Besides, Pasquale isn't going to +hurt them. There wouldn't be any sense in it. So there's no use us +getting panicky." + +"I don't reckon I'm exactly panicky, Daisy. But it won't do to forget +that Pasquale is one bad hombre. Harrison is another, and he's got it in +for the boys. We can't lie down and quit on them, can we? I notice they +didn't do that with me." + +"What good will it do for you to go and get trapped too? It's different +with you. They've got it in for you down there. It's just foolhardiness +for you to go back," she told him sharply. + +"You're sure some little boss," he laughed. "I'm willing to be +reasonable. If I can prove to you that I stand a good chance to pull it +off down at Noche Buena, will you feel different about it?" + +"Yes, if you can--but you can't," she agreed, flashing at him the +provocative little smile that was one of her charms. + +"Bet you a box of chocolates against a ham sandwich I can." + +"You're on," she nodded airily. + +"Better order that ham sandwich," he advised, mocking her lazily with +his friendly eyes. + +"Oh, I don't know. You're not so much, Cactus Center. I expect to be +eating chocolates soon." + +Her gay audacity always pleased him. He settled himself for explanations +soberly, but back of his gravity lay laughter. + +"You've got the wrong hunch on me. I ain't any uneducated sheepherder. +Don't run away with that notion. Me, I went through the first year of +the High School at Tucson. I know all about _amo, amas, amat_, and how +to make a flying tackle. Course oncet in a while I slip up in grammar. +There's heap too much grammar in the world, anyhow. It plumb chokes up a +man's language." + +"All right, Steve. Show me. I'm from Joplin, Missouri. When are you +going to do all this proving?" + +"We won't set a date. Some time before I leave." + +Yeager walked from the studio to his rooming-place. Ruth Seymour met him +on the porch and stopped him. It was the first time he had seen her +since their return. + +"Is it true--what Mr. Manderson says--that you are going back to Noche +Buena?" she flung at him. + +"I'm certainly getting on the society page," he laughed. "Manderson has +a pretty good reputation. I shouldn't wonder if what he says is true." + +The face beneath the crown of soft black hair was colorless except for +the trembling lips. + +"Why? Why must you go? You've just escaped from there with your life. +Are you mad?" + +"Look here, Miss Ruth. I've just had a roundup with Miss Ellington about +this. I'm going to take a whirl at rescuing our friends. Pasquale can't +put over such a raw deal without getting a run for his money from me. +I'm going back there because it's up to me to go. There are some things +a man can't do. He can't quit when his friends need him." + +She was standing in the doorway, her head leaning against the jamb so +that the fine curve of the throat line showed a beating pulse. Something +in the pose of the slim, graceful figure told him of repressed emotion. + +"That is absurd, Mr. Yeager. You can't do anything for them if you go." + +"Everybody sizes me up for a buzzard-head," he complained whimsically. + +The gravity did not lift from her young, quick eyes. + +"If you go they'll kill you," she said in a voice as dry as a whisper. + +"Sho! Nothing to that. I'm going down disguised. I'll be safe enough." + +"I suppose ... nothing can keep you from going." A sob choked up in her +throat as she spoke. + +"No. I've got to go." + +"You think you have a right to play at dice with your life! Don't your +friends count with you at all?" + +"It's because they do that I'm going," he answered gently. + +Her troubled eyes rested on his. The protest in her heart was still +urgent, but she dared go no further. Some instinct of maidenly reticence +curbed the passionate rebellion against his decision. If she said more, +she might say too much. With a swift, sinuous turn of the slender body +she ran into the house and left him standing there. + + * * * * * + +Daisy sat at one end of the pergola mending a glove. It was in the +pleasant cool of the evening just as dusk was beginning to fall. A light +breeze rustled the rose-leaves and played with the tendrils of her soft, +wavy hair. The coolness was grateful after the heat of an Arizona day. + +The front gate creaked. A man was coming in, a Mexican of the peon +class. He moved up the walk toward her with a slight limp. As he drew +closer, she observed negligently that he was of early middle age, +ragged, and of course dirty. Age and lack of soap had so dyed his serape +that the original color was quite gone. + +He bowed to her with the native courtesy that belongs to even the peons +of his race. A swift patter of Spanish fell from his lips. + +Miss Ellington shook her head. "No sabe Español." + +The man gushed into a second eruption of liquid vowels, accompanied this +time by gestures which indicated that he wanted food. + +The young woman nodded, went into the house, and secured from Mrs. +Seymour a plate of broken fragments left over from supper. With this and +a cup of coffee she returned to the pergola. + +"Gracias, señorita." The shining black poll of the man bowed over the +donation as he accepted it. + +He sat cross-legged among the roses and ate what had been given him. +Daisy observed critically that his habit of eating was not at all nice. +He discarded the fork she had brought, using only the knife and his +fingers. The meat he tore apart and devoured ravenously, cramming it +wolfishly into his mouth as fast as he could. A few days before she had +fallen into an argument with Steve Yeager about the civilization of the +Mexicans. She wished he could see this specimen. + +The man spoke, after he had cleaned the plate, licked up the gravy, and +gulped down the coffee. His words fell in a slow drawl, not in Spanish, +but in English. + +"Don't you reckon mebbe I could get a ham sandwich too?" + +The actress jumped. "Steve, you fraud!" she screamed, and flew at him. + +"Do I win?" he asked, protecting himself as he backed away. + +"Of course you do. Why haven't we been using you up stage in the Mexican +sets? You're perfect. How did you ever get your hair so slick and +black?" + +"I've been studying make-ups since I joined the Lunar Company," he told +her. + +"How about your Spanish? Is it good enough to pass muster?" + +"I learned to jabber it when I was a year old before I did English." + +"Then you'll do. I defy even Harrison to recognize you." + +He gave her his Mexican bow. "Gracias, señorita." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE HEAVY PAYS A DEBT + + +When Threewit and Farrar reached Noche Buena, Pasquale was absent from +camp, but Culvera made them suavely welcome. + +"Señor Yeager has recovered and was called away unexpectedly on +business," he explained; adding with his lip smile, "He will be +desolated to have missed you." + +"He is better, then?" + +"Indeed, quite his self. He nearly died from gunshot wounds, but unless +he suffers a relapse he is entirely out of present danger." + +"Shouldn't have thought it would have been safe to travel yet," Farrar +returned. + +He was uneasy in his mind, sensing something of mocking irony in the +manner of the Mexican. It was strange that Yeager, wounded to death as +his letter had said, was able in two days to be up and around again. + +"We were anxious to have him stop, but he was in a hurry. Personally I +did my best to get him to stay." Culvera's smile glittered +reminiscently: "The truth is that he thought our climate unhealthy. He +was afraid of heart failure." + +Threewit scoffed openly. "Absurd. The man is the finest physical +specimen I ever saw. If you had ever seen him on the back of an outlaw +bronc, you'd know his heart was all right." + +The door of the room opened and Harrison came in. He stopped, mouth open +with surprise at sight of the Americans. + +"Some of Mr. Yeager's anxious friends come down to inquire about his +health, Harrison. Did he seem to you healthy last time you saw him?" the +Mexican asked maliciously. + +Like a thunderclap the prizefighter broke loose in a turbid stream of +profanity. It boiled from his lips like molten lava from a crater. The +raucous words poured forth from a heart furious with rage. The man was +beside himself. He raved like a madman--and the object of his invective +was Stephen Yeager. + +And all the time the man cursed he stamped painfully about the room, a +sight to wonder at. His face was so swollen, so bruised and discolored, +that he was hardly recognizable. He had managed to creep into another +suit of clothes after the doctor had dressed his wounds and sewed up his +cuts, but these could not hide the fact that every step was a torment to +his pummeled ribs and lacerated flesh. He was game. Another man in his +condition would have been in the hospital. Harrison dragged himself +about because he would not admit that he was badly hurt. + +Culvera turned to the Americans and explained the situation in a few +sentences. He was enjoying himself extremely because the vanity of his +companion writhed at the position in which he was placed. + +"Your friend Yeager was not pleasing to our general and was sentenced to +be shot. He escaped in the night. Our companion Harrison, also I believe +a compatriot and friend of yours, is a charmer of ladies' hearts, as you +will perceive with one glance at his handsome face. Behold, then, an +elopement, romance, and moonshine. 'Linda de mi alma, amor mia, come,' +he cries. The lady comes. But, alas! for true love, the brutal vaquero +follows. They meet, and--I draw a merciful curtain over the result." + +Harrison was off again in crisp and crackling language. When at last his +vocabulary was exhausted, he turned savagely upon Threewit and Farrar. + +"I'll see Pasquale gets the right dope on you fellows too. You're a pair +of damned fools for coming here, believe _me_. If the old man can't get +Yeager, he'll take his friends instead. Didn't I tell you I'd make you +sick of what you did to me, Threewit? Good enough. I've got you both +where I want you now. You'll get plenty of hell, take my word for it." + +Threewit turned with dignity to the Mexican. "I have nothing to say to +this man, Major Culvera. But you are a gentleman. We have been deceived. +I ask for an escort as far as the border to see us safely back." + +Culvera was full of bland hospitality. "Really I can't permit you to +leave before the general returns. He would never forgive me. When +friends travel so far, they must be entertained. Not so?" + +"Are we prisoners? Is that what you mean?" demanded Farrar bluntly. + +The major shook his finger toward him with smiling deprecation. +"Prisoners! Fie, what a word among friends? Let us rather say guests of +honor. If I give you a guard it is as a precaution, to make sure that no +rash peon makes the mistake of injuring you as an enemy." + +"We understand," Threewit answered. "But I'll just tell you one thing, +major. Our friends know where we are, and Uncle Sam has a long arm. It +will reach easily to Noche Buena." + +"So, señor? Perhaps. Maybe. Who knows? Accidents happen--regrettable +ones. A thousand apologies to your Uncle Sam. Oh, yes! Ver' sorry. Too +late to mend, but then have we not shot the foolish peon who made the +mistake in regard to Señors Farrar and Threewit? Yes, indeed." + +Culvera tossed off his genial prophecy with the politest indifference. +The prisoners read in his words a threat, sinister and scarcely veiled. + +"You're talking murder, which is absurd," answered Threewit. "We've done +no harm to you or General Pasquale. We came here by mistake. He'll let +us go, of course." + +"You sent Yeager down here to spy about those cattle you lost. Now +you've come down here buttin' in to see for yourself. I don't expect +Pasquale is going to stand for any such thing," broke in Harrison. + +Farrar looked the prizefighter straight in the eye. + +"You're a liar and you know it, Harrison. Let me tell you something +else. You've stood here and cursed Yeager to the limit. Why? Because +he's a better man than you are. I don't know just what's happened, but I +can see that he has given you the beating of your life. And he did it in +fair fight too." + +Harrison interrupted with a scream of rage. "I'll cave his head in when +we meet sure as he's a foot high." + +"No, you won't. He's got your goat. What I've got to say about Yeager is +this. If you put over any of your sculduggery on us, he'll wipe you off +the map no matter in what lonesome hole you hide. Just stick a pin in +that." + +The bully moved slowly toward Farrar. His head had sunk down and his +shoulders fallen to the gorilla hunch. + +"You've said enough--too much, damn you," he roared. + +With catlike swiftness Culvera sprang from where he sat, flung his +weight low at the furious man from an angle, and tipped him from his +feet so that he fell staggering into a chair. + +"None of that, amigo," said the Mexican curtly. "These gentlemen are +guests of General Pasquale. Till he passes judgment they shall be +treated with ver' much courtesy." + +Panting heavily, Harrison glared at him. Some day he intended to take a +fall out of this supercilious young Spanish aristocrat, but just now he +was not equal to the task. He mumbled incoherent threats. + +"I don't quite catch your remarks. Is it that they are to my address, +Señor Harrison?" asked the young officer silkily. + +Heavily Harrison rose and passed from the room without looking at any of +them. For the present he was beaten and he knew it. + +The Mexican smiled confidentially at his prisoners. "Between friends, +it's ver' devilish unpleasant to do business with such a--what you +call--ruffian. But ver' necessar'. Oh, yes! Quite so." + +"Depends on one's business, I expect," replied Farrar. + +"You have said it, señor. A patriot can't be too particulair. He uses +the tools that come to his hands. But pardon! My tongue is like a +woman's. It runs away with time." + +He called the guard and had the prisoners removed. They were put in the +same adobe hut where Yeager had been confined a few days earlier. + +Threewit lit a cigar and paced up and down gloomily. "This is a hell of +a fix we're in. Before we get out of here the old man will be hollering +his head off for that 'Retreat of the Bandits' three-reeler." + +The camera man laughed ruefully. "I ain't worrying any about the old +man. He's back there safe in little old New York. It's Frank Farrar +that's on my mind. How is he going to get out of here?" + +The director stopped, took the cigar from his mouth, and looked across +questioningly at him. + +"You don't really think Pasquale will hurt us, do you?" + +"No; not unless the breaks go against us. I don't reckon Pasquale has +anything much against Yeager any more than he has against us. Of course, +Harrison will do his darndest to make him sore at us. Notice how he +tried to put it over that we had come about that bunch of cattle he +stole?" + +"Sure I did. But it is not likely that Harrison is ace high in this +pack. What I'm afraid of is that the old general will soak us for a +ransom. He's nothing but an outlaw, anyhow." + +Within the hour they were taken before Pasquale. He was still covered +with the dust of travel. His riding-gloves lay on the table where he had +tossed them. His soft white hat was on his head. As rapidly as possible +he was devouring a chicken dinner. + +It was his discourteous whim to keep them waiting in the back of the +room until he had finished. They were offered no seats, but stood +against the wall under the eye of the guard who had brought them. + +The general finished his bottle of wine before he turned savagely upon +them. + +"You are friends of the Gringo Yeager. Not so?" he accused. + +It was too late for a denial now. Threewit admitted the charge. + +"So. Maldito! What are you doing here? I've had enough of you Yankees!" +he exploded. + +Before Threewit had more than begun his explanations he brushed aside +the director's words. + +"This Yeager is a devil. Did he not crawl up on me unexpect' and strike +me here with an axe?" He touched the back of his head, across which a +wide bandage ran. "Be sure I will cut his heart out some day. Gabriel +Pasquale has said it. And you--you come here to spy what we have. You +claim my cattle. Am I a fool that I do not know?" + +"We are sorry--" + +The Mexican struck the table with his hairy brown fist so that the +dishes rang. "Sorry! Jesu Cristo! In good time I shall see to that. If I +do not lay hands upon this devil Yeager, his friends will do instead. Am +I one to be laughed at by Gringos?" + +Threewit spoke as firmly as he could, though the fear of this big, +unshaven savage was in his heart. "We are not spies, general. We were +brought here by the lie that Yeager lay here dying and had sent for us. +In no way have we harmed you. Before you go too far, remember that our +Government will not tolerate any foul play. We are not stray +sheepherders. Our friends are close to the President. They have his ear +and--" + +Pasquale leaned forward and snapped his fingers in the face of Threewit. +"That for your President and your Government. Pouf! I snap my fingers. I +spit on them. Mexico for the Mexicans. To the devil with all +foreigners." + +He nodded to the guard. "Away with them!" + +As they left they could hear him roaring for another bottle. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +PEDRO CABENZA + + +The Patriotic Legion of the Northern States was drinking mescal and +gambling for the paper money Pasquale had issued and rolling about in +the dust with joyous whoops from each squirming mass. It was a happy +Legion, though a dirty one. It let its chief do all the worrying about +how it was to be fed and transported. Cheerfully it went its ragged way, +eating, drinking, sleeping, card-playing, rolling in the dust of its +friendly wrestling. What matter that many members of the Legion were +barefoot, that its horses were scarecrows, that gunnysacks and ends of +wires from baled hay and bits of frazzled rope all made contribution to +the saddles and bridles of the cavalry! Was Pasquale not going to take +them straight to Mexico City, where all of them would be made rich at +the expense of the accursed Federals who had trodden upon the face of +the poor? Caramba! Soon now the devil would have his own. + +A burro appeared at one end of the hot and dusty street. Beside the +burro limped a man, occasionally beating the animal on the rump with a +switch he carried. The Legion took a languid interest. This was some +farmer from a hill valley bringing supplies to sell to the patriotic +army. Would his wares turn out to be mescal or vegetables or perhaps a +leggy steer that he had butchered? + +As he drew nearer it was to be seen that a crate hung from one side of +the burro. In it were chickens. Balancing this, on the other side, were +two gunnysacks. Through a hole in one of these pushed the green face of +a cabbage. Interest in the new arrival declined. The chickens would go +to the quarters of the officers, and cabbage was an old story. + +When the burro was opposite the corral one of the sacks gave way with a +rip. From out of the hole poured a stream of apples upon the dusty road. +That part of the Legion which was nearest pounced upon the fruit with +shouts of laughter. The owner tried to fight the half-grown soldiers +from his property. He might as well have tried to sweep back an ocean +tide with a broom. In ten seconds every apple had been gleaned from the +dust. Within thirty more everything but the cores had gone to feed the +Legion. + +The vendor of food wailed and flung imprecations at his laughing +tormentors. He cursed them fluently and shook a dirty brown fist at the +circle of troopers. He threatened to tell Pasquale what they had done. + +A harsh voice interrupted him. "What is it you will tell Pasquale?" + +The army began to melt unobtrusively away. The general himself, +accompanied by Major Ochampa, sat in the saddle and scowled at the +farmer. The latter told his story, almost in tears. This was all he had, +these chicken, cabbages, and apples. He had brought them down to sell +and was going to enlist. His Excellency would understand that he, Pedro +Cabenza, was a patriot, but, behold! he had been robbed. + +He was at any rate a very ragged patriot. There was a hole in his cotton +trousers through which four inches of coffee-colored leg showed. His +shoes were in the last stages. The hat he doffed was an extremely +ventilated one. + +Pasquale passed judgment instantly. It would never do for word to get +out that those bringing supplies to feed his army were not paid fairly. + +"Buy the chickens and the cabbage, Ochampa. Pay the man for his apples. +Enlist him and find him a mount." + +He rode away, leaving his subordinate to deal with the details. Major +Ochampa was the paymaster for the army as well as Secretary of the +Treasury for the Government of which Pasquale was the chief. His name +was on the very much-depreciated currency the insurgents had issued. + +Until recently Ochampa had been a small farmer himself. He bargained +shrewdly for the supplies, but in Cabenza he found a match. The man +haggled to the last cent and then called on Heaven to witness that he +had practically given away the goods for nothing. But when the sergeant +led him away to enlist he was beaming at the bargain he had made. + +Cabenza became at once an unobtrusive unit in the army. He could lie for +hours and bask in the sunshine with the patient content of the Mexican +peon. He could eat frijoles and tortillas week in and week out, offering +no complaint at the monotony of his diet. He was as lazy, as hopeful, +and as unambitious as several thousand other riders of the Legion. +Nobody paid the least attention to him except to require of him the not +very arduous duties of camp service. Presently Pasquale would move south +and renew the campaign. Meanwhile his troopers had an indolent, easy +time of it. + +On the evening of the day after his enlistment Pedro Cabenza strolled +across toward the prison where he had been told two Americans were held +captive. Two guards sat outside in front of the door and gossiped. +Cabenza, moved apparently by a desire for companionship, indifferently +drifted toward them. He sat down. Presently he produced a bottle +furtively. All three drank, to good health, to the success of the +revolution, a third time to the day when they should march, victorious +into the great city in the south. + +They became exhilarated. Cabenza found it necessary to work off his +excitement upon the prisoners. He stood on tiptoe, holding the window +bars in his hands, and jeered at the men within. + +"Ho, ho, Gringos! May the devil fly away with you! Food for powder--food +for powder! Some fine morning the general will give orders and--we shall +bury you in the sand by the river. Not so?" he scoffed in his own +language. + +One of the Americans within drew near the window. + +"Listen," he said. "Do you want to earn some money--ten--twenty--one +hundred dollars in gold? Will you take a letter for me to Los Robles?" + +"No. The general would skin me alive. I spit upon your offer. I throw +dirt upon you." + +Cabenza stooped, in his hand scooped up some dust from the ground, and +flung it between the bars. + +One of the guards pulled him back savagely. + +"Icabron! Know you not the orders of the general? None are to talk with +the Gringos. Away, fool! Because of the drink Pablo and I will forget. +Away!" + +Cabenza showed a face ludicrously terror-stricken. The punishments of +Pasquale were notoriously severe. If it were known he had broken the +command he would at least be beaten with whips. + +"I did not know. I did not know," he explained humbly, thrusting the +liquor bottle at one of them. "Here, compañero, drink and forget that I +have spoken." + +He turned and scurried away into the darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +HARRISON OVERPLAYS HIS HAND + + +Through the barred window Farrar watched the guard drag Cabenza back. He +was very despondent. They had been prisoners now nearly a week and could +see no termination of their jail sentence in sight. The food given them +was wretched. They were anxious, dirty, and unkempt. Though he would not +admit it even to himself, the camera man was oppressed by the shadow of +a possible impending fate. The whim of a tyrant regardless of human life +might at any hour send them to a firing squad. + +Threewit sat gloomily on the stool, elbows on knees and chin resting on +his fists. He could have wept for himself almost without shame. For +forty-five years he had gone his safe way, a policeman always within +call. Not once had life in the raw reached out and gripped him. Not once +had he faced the stark probability of sudden, violent death. Clubs and +after-theater suppers and poker and golf had offered him pleasant +diversion. And now--a cruel fate had thrown him in the way of a +barbarian with no sense of either justice or kindness. He felt himself +too soft of fiber to cope with such elemental forces. + +"Look! What is that, Threewit?" + +Farrar was pointing to something on the table that gleamed white in the +moonlight. He stepped forward and picked it up. The article was a stone +around which was wrapped a paper tied by a string. + +"The Mexican must have thrown it in with the dirt. It wasn't there +before," replied the director quickly. + +Farrar untied the string and smoothed out the paper, holding it toward +the moonlight. "There's writing on it, but I can't make it out. Strike a +match for me." + +His companion struck on his trousers a match and the camera man read by +its glowing flame. + + Keep a stiff upper lip. Cactus Center is on the job. Don't know + when my chance will come, but I'm looking for it. _Chew this up._ + + S. Y. + +Farrar gave a subdued whoop of joy. "It's old Steve. He hasn't forgotten +us, good old boy. I'll bet he has got something up his sleeve." + +"Hope that greaser doesn't give us away to Pasquale or Harrison." + +"He won't. Trust Cactus Center. He's bridle-wise, that lad is. I feel a +lot better just to know he has got us on his mind." + +"What do you suppose he is planning?" + +"Don't know. Of course he has to lie low. But he pulled off his own +getaway and I'll back him to figure out ours." The camera man was +nothing if not a loyal admirer of the range-rider. + +They talked in whispers, eager and excited with the possibility of +rescue that had come. Somehow, of all the men they had known, they +banked more on Steve Yeager in such an emergency than any other. It was +not alone his physical vigor, though that counted, since it gave him so +complete a mastery over himself. Farrar had seen him once stripped in a +swimming-pool and been stirred to wonder. Beneath the satiny skin the +muscles moved in ripples. The biceps crawled back and forth like living +things, beautiful in the graceful flow of their movement. Whatever he +had done had been done easily, apparently without effort. This reserve +power was something more than a combination of bone and sinew and flesh. +It was a product of the spirit, a moral force to be reckoned with. It +helped to make impossible things easy of accomplishment. + + * * * * * + +The panic of Cabenza vanished as soon as he was out of sight of the +guards. As he turned down toward the sandy river-bed a little smile lay +in his eyes. + +From the place where it was buried beneath the root of a cottonwood, he +dug out a bandanna handkerchief containing several bottles, little +brushes, and a looking-glass. Sitting there in the moonlight, he worked +busily renewing the tints of his hands and face and also of the +coffee-colored patch of skin that peeped through his torn trouser leg. + +This done, he sauntered back to the little town and down the adobe +street. A horseman cantered up to the headquarters of the general just +as Pasquale stepped out with Culvera. The latter snapped his fingers +toward Cabenza and that trooper ran forward. + +"Hold the horse," ordered the officer in Mexican. + +Cabenza relieved the messenger, who stepped forward and delivered what +had been given him to say. The hearing of the man holding the horse was +acute and he listened intently. + +"Señor Harrison sends greeting to the general. He is in touch with the +play-actor Lennox and hopes soon to get the Gringo Yeager. If Lennox +plays false...." + +The words ran into a murmur and Cabenza could hear no more. + +The messenger was dismissed. Cabenza stooped to tie a loose lace in his +shoe. Pasquale and Culvera passed back from the end of the porch into +the house. As they went the trooper heard another stray fragment in the +voice of the general. + +"If Harrison crosses the line after him at night...." + +That was all, but it told Cabenza that Harrison was negotiating with +Lennox for the delivery of Yeager in exchange for Threewit and Farrar. +The leading man was, of course, playing for time until Steve, under the +guise of Cabenza, could arrange to win the freedom of the prisoners. + +This would take time, for success would depend upon several dove-tailing +factors. To attempt a rescue and to fail would be practically to sign +the death-warrant of Farrar and Threewit. + +Yeager, alias Cabenza, returned to the stable where he and a score of +patriots of the Northern Legion had sleeping-quarters. He would much +have preferred to take his blankets out into the pure night air and to +bed under the stars. But he was playing his part thoroughly. He could +not afford to be nice or scrupulous, for fear of calling special +attention to himself. + +As for the peons beside him, they snored peacefully without regard to +the lack of cleanliness of their bedroom. The first day of his arrival +Yeager had knocked a hole in the flimsy wall and had given it out as +the result of a chance kick of a bronco. This served to let air into a +building which had no other means of ventilation. It also allowed some +small percentage of the various concentrated odors to escape. + +The Arizonian was a light sleeper. But like some men in perfect trim he +had the faculty of going to sleep whenever he desired. Often he had +taken a nap in the saddle while night-herding. Fatigued from eighteen +hours of wrestling the cattle to safety through a bitter storm, he had +learned to fall easily into rest the instant his head hit the pillow. It +was a heritage that had come to him from his rugged, outdoor life. So he +slept now, a gentle, untroubled slumber, until daylight sifted through +the hole in the wall at his side. + +He was on duty that day herding the remuda, and it was not until late +afternoon that he returned to camp. From a distance, dropping down into +the draw which formed the location of the town, he saw a dust cloud +moving down the street. At the apex of it rode a little bunch of +travelers, evidently just in from the desert. Incuriously his eyes +watched the party as it moved toward the headquarters of Pasquale. Some +impulse led him to put his scarecrow of a pony at a canter. + +The party reached the house of Pasquale and the two leaders dismounted. +Yeager was still at some distance, but he had an uncertain impression +that one of them was a woman. They stood on the porch talking. The +larger one seemed to be overruling the protest of the other, so far as +Steve could tell at that distance. The two passed together into the +house. + +It was not at all unusual for women to go into that house, according to +the camp-fire stories that were whispered in the army. Pasquale was an +unmoral old barbarian. If he liked women and wine the Legion made no +complaint. The women were either camp-followers or visitors from the +nearest town. In either case they were not of a sort whose reputation +was likely to suffer. + +Yeager cooked his simple supper and ate it. He sat down with his back to +an adobe wall and rolled a cigarette. The peons, loafing in the cool of +the evening, naturally fell into gossip. Steve, intent on his own +thoughts, did not hear what was said until a word snatched him out of +his indifference. The word was the name of Harrison. + +"This afternoon?" asked one. + +"Not an hour ago." + +"Brought a woman with him, Pablo says," said a third indifferently. + +"Yes." The first speaker laughed with an implication he did not care to +express. + +One of the others leaned forward and spoke in a lower tone. "This +Harrison promised the general to bring back with him the Gringo Yeager. +Old Gabriel is crazy to get the Yankee devil in his hands. Not so? +Harrison brings him a woman instead to soften his bad temper, maybe." + +The American gave no sign of interest. His fingers finished rolling the +cigarette. Not another muscle of the inert body moved. + +"A white woman this time, Pablo says." + +The first speaker shrugged. "Look you, brother. All is grist that comes +to the mill of Gabriel. As for these Gringo women"--He whispered a bit +of slander that brought the blood to the face of Steve. + +The peons guffawed with delight. This kind of joke was adapted both to +their prejudices and their lack of intelligence. They were as ignorant +of the world as children, fully as gay, irresponsible, and kindhearted. +But they had, too, a capacity for cruelty and frank sensuousness that +belongs only to the childhood of a race. + +Presently Yeager arose, yawned, and drifted inconspicuously toward the +stable that had been converted into a bedroom by the simple process of +throwing a lot of blankets on the floor. But as soon as he was out of +sight, Steve doubled across the road into the alley that ran back of the +house where Pasquale was putting up. + +The news about Harrison's return was disquieting. Ever since Yeager's +second arrival at Noche Buena he had been gone. What did his appearance +now mean? Who was the American woman he had brought back with him? Steve +was inclined to think she was probably some one of the man's dubious +acquaintances from Arixico. But of this he intended to make sure. + +He passed quietly up the alley and into the yard back of the big house +the insurgent general had appropriated for his headquarters. A light was +shining from one of the back upper rooms. From it, too, there came +faintly the sound of a voice, high and frightened, in which sobs and +hysteria struggled. + +By means of a post the Arizonian climbed to the top of the little back +porch. Leaning as far as he could toward the window of the lighted room, +he could see Pasquale and Harrison. The woman, whoever she might be, was +in the corner of the room beyond his vision. The prizefighter showed +both in face and manner a certain stiff sullenness. He was insisting +upon some point to which there was determined opposition. As the general +turned half toward him once, the range-rider saw in his little black +eyes an alert and greedy cunning he did not understand. + +The woman broke out into violent protest. + +"I won't do it. I won't. If you are a liberator, as they say you are, +you won't let him force me to it, general, will you?" + +At the sound of that voice Yeager's heart jumped. He would have known +it among ten thousand. Little beads of perspiration broke out on his +forehead. The primitive instinct to kill seared across his brain and +left him for the moment dizzy and trembling. + +There was a grin on Pasquale's ugly mug. His tobacco-stained teeth +showed behind the lifted lips. + +"If young ladies will insist on running away with officers of mine--" + +"I didn't. Ask the men. I fought. See where I bit his hand," she +protested, fighting against hysterical fears. + +"So? But Señor Harrison says you were engaged to him." + +"I hate him. I've found him out. I'd rather die than--" + +Yeager caught the arm fling that concluded her sentence of passionate +protest. + +Pasquale, little black eyes twinkling, shrugged broad shoulders and +turned to Harrison. + +"You see. The lady has changed her mind, señor. What will you?" + +"What's that got to do with it? She's mine. Send for a priest and have +us married," the other man demanded bluntly. + +"Not so fast, amigo," remonstrated Pasquale softly. "Give her time--a +few days--quien sabe?--she may change her mind again." + +Harrison choked on his anger. He was suspicious of this suavity, of this +sudden respect for a girl's wishes. Since when had the old despot become +so scrupulous as to risk offending one who had served him a good deal +and might aid him in more serious matters? The prizefighter could guess +only one reason for the general's attitude. His jealousy began to smoke +at once. + +"She can change her mind afterward just as well. If we're married now, +then I'm sure of her," the prizefighter insisted doggedly. + +Impulsively the girl swept into that part of the room within the view of +Steve. She knelt in front of Pasquale and caught at his hand. + +"Send me home--back to my mother. I'm only a girl. You don't make war on +girls, do you?" she pleaded. + +Had she only known it, the very sweetness of her troubled youth, the +shadows under the starry eyes edging the wild-rose cheeks, the allure of +her lines and soft flesh, fought potently against her desire for a +safe-conduct home. The greedy, treacherous little eyes of the insurgent +chief glittered. + +He shook his head. "No, señorita. That is not possible. But you shall +stay here--under the protection of Gabriel Pasquale himself. You shall +have choice--Señor Harrison if you wish, another if you prefer it so. +Take time. Perhaps--who knows?" He smiled and bowed with the gallantry +of a bear as he kissed her hand. + +"No--no. I want to go home," she sobbed. + +"Young ladies don't always know what is best for them. Behold, we shall +marry you to a soldier, one of rank. From the general down, you shall +have choice," Pasquale promised largely. + +Harrison scowled. He did not at all like the turn things were taking. +"Not as long as I'm alive," he said savagely. "She's mine, I tell you." + +The Mexican looked directly at him with a face as hard as jade. "So you +don't expect to live long, señor. Is that it? We shall all mourn. Yes, +indeed." He turned decisively to the white-faced girl. "Go to sleep, +muchacha. To-morrow we shall talk. Gabriel Pasquale is your friend. All +shall be well with you. None shall insult you on peril of his life. +Buenos!" + +With a gesture of his hand he pointed the door to Harrison. + +The eyes of the two men clashed stormily. It was those of the American +that finally gave way sulkily. Pasquale had power to enforce his +commands and the other knew he would not hesitate to use it. + +The prizefighter slouched out of the room with the general at his heels. + +With a little gesture that betrayed the despair of her sick heart the +girl turned and flung herself face down on the bed. Sobs shook her +slender body. Her fingers clutched unconsciously at the rough weave of +the blanket upon which she lay. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE TEXAN + + +Steve tapped gently on the window pane with the ball of his middle +finger. Instantly the sobbing was interrupted. The black head of hair +lifted from the pillow to listen the better. He could guess how +fearfully the heart of the girl was beating. + +Again he tapped on the glass. With a lithe twist of her body the girl +sat up on the bed. She waited tensely for a repetition of the sound, not +quite sure from where it had come. + +Her questing eyes found at last the source of it, a warning forefinger +close to the pane that seemed to urge for silence. Rising, she moved +slowly to the window, uneasy, doubtful, yet with hope beginning to stir +at her heart. She formed a cup for her eyes with her palms so as to hold +back the light while she peered through the glass into the darkness +without. + +Over to the left she made out the contour of a face, a brown Mexican +face with quick, eager eyes that spoke comfort to her. Her first thought +was that it belonged to a friend. Hard on the heels of that she gave a +little cry of joy and began with trembling fingers to raise the window. + +"Steve!" she cried, laughing and crying together. + +And as soon as she had adjusted the window she caught his hand between +both of hers and pressed it hard. Steve was here. He would save her as +he had before. She was all right now. + +"Ruth! Little Ruth!" he cried softly, in a whisper. + +"Did you hear? Do you know?" she asked. + +"Only that he brought you here, the hellhound, and that Pasquale--" + +He stopped, his sentence unfinished. There was no need to alarm her +about that old philanderer. Time enough for that if she scratched the +surface and found the savage beneath. + +"--Won't let me go home," she finished for him. + +"But what are you doing here? How did Harrison trap you?" + +"I had been strolling with Daisy Ellington after supper. It was not +late--hardly dark yet. She stopped at the hotel to talk with Miss +Winters and I started to walk home alone. I took the short cut across +the empty block just below Brinker's. He was waiting among the +cottonwoods there--he and two Mexicans. As soon as he stepped into the +light I was afraid." + +"Why didn't you cry out?" + +"I didn't like to make a scene about nothing. And after that first +moment I had no time. He caught hold of me and put his hand across my +mouth. Horses were there ready saddled. He lifted me in front of him and +kept my mouth covered till we were clear of the town. It didn't matter +how much I screamed when we had reached the desert." + +"I didn't think even Harrison had the nerve to kidnap an Arizona girl +and bring her across the line. If he had happened to meet a bunch of +cowpunchers--" + +"He didn't start after me. It was you he wanted. But he found out you +weren't in town and took me instead. All the way down he talked about +you--boasted how he would marry me in spite of you and how he would take +you and have Pasquale flay you alive." + +Yeager lifted a warning finger. "Remember you have a friend here. +Good-night." + +He lowered himself quickly, slid down the porch post, and disappeared +into the darkness almost instantly. + +Ruth heard voices. One gave commands, the others answered mildly with +"Si, Excellency." Dim figures moved about below, one heavy, bulky, +dominating. He gestured, snapped out curt directions, and presently +vanished. Two guards were left. They paced up and down beneath her +window. She understood that Pasquale was providing against any chance of +escape. Half an hour ago she would have shuddered. Now she could even +smile faintly at his precautions. Steve would evade them when the right +time came. + +Her confidence in him, since it looked only to the results, was greater +than that he felt in his own power. The range-rider saw the difficulties +before him. He was alone in a camp of wild, ignorant natives who moved +at the nod of Pasquale. When he let himself think of Ruth as a prisoner +at the mercy of that savage old outlaw's whim, the heart of Steve failed +him. What could one man do against so many? + +He felt that she was perfectly safe for the present, but Yeager found it +impossible to sleep in the stable. Taking his blankets with him, he +slipped noiselessly out to the cottonwood clump back of Pasquale's +headquarters. Here, at least, he could see the light in her window and +be sure that all was well with her. + +As he moved noiselessly from one tree to another which gave a better +view of the window, Steve stumbled against the prostrate body of a man. + +Some one ripped out a sullen oath and a grip of steel caught at the +ankle of the cowpuncher. + +Taken by surprise, Yeager was dragged to the ground. + +"What are you doing here?" demanded a voice Steve recognized instantly +as belonging to Harrison. + +The prisoner made no resistance. He ran into a patter of frightened, +apologetic Spanish. + +"What's your name?" + +"Pedro Cabenza, señor," replied the owner of that name. "It is so hot in +the stable. So I bring my blankets here and sleep." + +"Hmp!" Harrison took time for reflection. "Know where I put up?" + +"Si, señor." + +The prizefighter gave him a dollar. "Stay here. Keep an eye on that +lighted window upstairs. If anything happens--if you hear a noise--if a +woman screams, come and knock me up right away. Understand?" + +The docile Cabenza repeated his instructions like a parrot. + +"Good enough," Harrison nodded. "I'll give you another dollar when you +come. But don't wake me for nothing." + +"No, señor." + +"And you'd better keep your mouth shut unless you want your head beat +off," advised the white man as he left. + +The one who had given his name as Cabenza grinned to himself. He was +now Harrison's hired watcher. Both of them were in league to frustrate +any deviltry on the part of Pasquale. He wondered what the prizefighter +would give to know that he had his enemy so wholly in his power, that he +had only to lay hands on him and cry out to doom him to a painful and a +violent death. + +Yeager dozed and wakened and dozed again. Always when he looked the +light was still burning. Toward morning he saw the figure of Ruth in the +window. When she turned away the light went out. He judged she had put +her anxieties from her and given herself to sleep at last. But not until +the camp began to stir with the renewal of life for another day did he +leave his post and return to the stable. + +During the morning he slept under a cottonwood and made up arrears of +rest lost while on guard. About noon Harrison came down the street and +stopped at sight of him. The man was livid with anger. Yeager could +guess the reason. He had spent a stormy ten minutes with old Pasquale +demanding his rights and had issued from the encounter without profit. +From the place where Steve was sitting he had heard the high, excited +voices. It had occurred to him that the protest of Harrison had gone +about as far as it could be safely carried, for Gabriel was both a +ruthless and a hot-tempered despot. + +Harrison sat down sullenly without speaking and stared straight in front +of him. He was boiling with impotent fury. Pasquale had the whip hand +and meant to carry things his own way. Of that he no longer had any +doubt. In bringing Ruth to Noche Buena he had made a great mistake. + +"Do you want to make some money, you--what's your name?" he presently +rasped out. + +Yeager answered with the universal formula of the land. "Si, señor. And +my name is Cabenza--Pedro Cabenza." + +The prizefighter glanced warily around, then lowered his voice. "I mean +a lot of money--twenty dollars, maybe." + +"Gold?" asked the peon, wide-eyed. + +"Gold. How far would you go to earn that much?" + +"A long way, señor." + +Harrison caught him by the wrist with a grip that drove the blood back. +"Listen, Cabenza. _Would you go as far as the camp of Garcia Farrugia?_" +The close-gripped, salient jaw was thrust forward. Black eyes blazed +from a set, snarling face. + +So, after all, the man was trafficking with the Federal governor all the +time just as he was with the Constitutionalists. Yeager had once or +twice suspected as much. + +"To the camp of Governor Farrugia," gasped Cabenza. "But--what for, +señor?" + +"To carry him a letter. Never mind what for. You will get your pay. Is +it not enough?" + +"And--Pasquale?" + +"Need never know. You can slip away this afternoon and be back by +to-morrow night." + +Cabenza shook his head regretfully. "No. I am one of the horse +wranglers. My boss would miss me if I was not here. I cannot go." + +The other man swore. At the same time he recognized the argument as +effective. He must find a messenger who could absent himself without +stirring up questions. + +"Then keep your mouth clamped," ordered Harrison. "I may be able to use +you here. Anyhow, I want you to be ready to help if I need you." + +He slipped a dollar into the brown palm of the peon and left him. + +Steve looked after him with narrowed eyes. "Mr. Harrison is liable to +bump into trouble if he don't look out. He's gone crazy with the heat, +looks like. First thing, he'll pick on the wrong greaser and Mr. +Messenger will take the letter to Pasquale instead of Farrugia. That's +about what'll happen." + +Something else happened first, however, that distracted the attention of +Mr. Yeager, alias Cabenza, from this regrettable possibility. A man +rode into camp, followed by a Mexican leading a pack-horse. The first +rider was straight, tall, and wide-shouldered; also he was deep-chested +and lean-loined, forty-five or thereabout, and had "Texan" written all +over his weather-beaten face and costume. At sight of him Steve gave a +silent whoop of joy. A white man had come to Noche Buena, a Texan (he +was ready to swear), and he wore his big serviceable six-guns low. Also, +he carried on his face and in his bearing the look of reckless +competence that comes only from death faced in the open fearlessly and +often. + +Inside of five minutes Cabenza had gathered information as follows: Adam +Holcomb was a soldier of fortune who had fought all over South America +and Mexico. During the Spanish War he had been a Rough Rider in Cuba and +later had been a volunteer officer in the Philippines. The army routine +had no attraction for him. What he liked was actual fighting. So the +outbreak of the Revolution had drawn him across the border, where he had +done much to lick the Constitutionalist troops into shape. Now he had +come to Noche Buena to teach the artillery of the Legion how to shoot +straight, after which they would all march south and take the great city +with the golden gates. Personally this Gringo was a devil, of course, +but Pasquale was a prince of devils whose business it was to keep all +lesser ones in order. So, in the Spanish equivalent of our American +slang, they should worry. Thus a comrade explained the Texan and his +presence to Pedro. + +Cabenza contrived to be in the way when someone was wanted to fill the +water-jug of Holcomb. Ochampa, who for the moment had charge of the +artillery officer, swooped down upon the peon and put him temporarily at +the service of his guest to fetch and carry at his orders. So Pedro +unpacked the belongings of the American officer and prepared what had to +serve as the substitute for a bath. He was so adept at this that the +captain privately decided to requisition him for his servant. + +Having finished this and laid out towels, Cabenza brushed the boots of +the captain outside while that gentleman splashed within the cabin. He +chose the time while he was arranging the shaving-outfit on the table to +convey a piece of information to Holcomb. + +"What's that? An American woman--held captive at his house by Pasquale," +repeated the soldier of fortune, astonished. + +"A girl, not a woman. About eighteen, maybe," supplemented Cabenza, in +Mexican, of course. + +"A woman from the street, I reckon. And if you look into it you'll find +she's here of her own free will." + +Steve was now stropping a razor. His back was toward the officer, but +without turning he could see him by looking in the glass. + +"You've got the wrong steer, captain. She's as straight a girl as ever +lived," answered Yeager in perfectly good English. + +Holcomb sat up straight. "Turn round, my man," he ordered crisply. + +The range-rider did as he was told. The light, blue-gray eyes of the +officer bored into his. + +"You're no Mexican," charged the Texan. + +"No. Arizona is where I hang up my hat." + +"What are you, then? A spy?" + +"I reckon, maybeso." Steve admitted the thrust lightly. "Got time to +hear all about it, captain?" + +"Go ahead." + +The range-rider told it, the whole story, so far as it could be related +by him. Such details as his modesty omitted Holcomb's imagination was +easily able to supply. + +The Texan paced up and down the room with the long, light, military +stride. + +"And you say Pasquale has been with her all day--that he ate lunch with +her and is riding with her now?" + +"Yes. Just watch his eyes when he looks at her if you're in doubt about +the old villain. There's a tiger look in them, and something else that's +worse." Yeager chanced to glance out of the window. "Here they come now +back from their ride. Why not meet them as they alight?" + +The captain reached for his hat and led the way down the street. Cabenza +followed him, a step or two in the rear. They reached headquarters just +as Pasquale lifted Ruth from the saddle. He held her for a moment in his +strong arms and grinned down at her frightened, fascinated eyes. + +"Adios, chatita!" he murmured, his little eyes dancing with triumph. + +She fled from him into the house, terror giving speed to her limbs. + +Upon Holcomb the dictator turned eyes that had grown cold and harsh +again. + +"Welcome, captain, welcome, to the Northern Legion," he said brusquely, +offering a gauntleted hand. + +They went into the house together, Pasquale's arm across the shoulder of +the Texan. + +"Dios, I'm glad to see you, captain," the insurgent chief ran on +quickly. "This riff-raff of mine can't hit a hillside. Hammer the +artillery into shape and I'll say gracias." + +"Yes. I see you have a countrywoman of mine visiting you," the American +said quietly. + +"From Arizona." The Mexican laughed harshly. "We should get together +more, your country and mine. We should bind the States and the Republic +together by closer ties. A man without a wife is but a half man. +Captain, I shall marry." + +It was common knowledge of the camp that in his outlaw days Pasquale had +a wife and family. The sons were grown up now. The rumor ran that the +wife had found a more congenial mate and was separated from Gabriel by +common agreement. Holcomb made no reference to this free-and-easy +arrangement. + +"Congratulations, general. Is the lady some high-born señorita?" + +"The lady you have just seen is my choice--the young woman from +Arizona," answered Pasquale, flashing from under his heavy grizzled +brows a sharp, questioning look at the Texan. + +"Indeed! I shall be happy to meet the lady and wish her joy," replied +Holcomb lightly. + +"You shall, captain. She's a little reluctant yet, but Gabriel has a way +of overcoming that. I shall be married on Saturday." + +"Ah!" + +The face of the Texan had as much expression as a piece of flint. +Pasquale, watching him warily, wondered what he was thinking behind +those hard, steel-gray eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +NEAR THE END OF HIS TRAIL + + +Harrison strode up and down the room furiously. "Who in Mexico is this +Pasquale?" he demanded, and then answered his own question: "Scum of the +earth, a peon whipped for stealing whiskey, a hill robber and murderer. +In my country they'd take the scoundrel and hang him by the neck." + +"True, amigo,--all true," assented Culvera suavely, examining his +cigarette as he spoke. "But it is well to remember that walls have ears, +and therefore to whisper--when one speaks of Gabriel." + +"I'm not afraid of him," boasted the American, but his voice fell. + +"I am," differed Culvera frankly. "Ramon is fond of Ramon, so he chooses +a safe time to pay his debts--and he does not advertise in advance that +he is going to settle." + +"Bah! You sit still and do nothing. But I--By God! I'll not stand it. He +has given it out he will be married Saturday. We'll see about that. +Maybe he'll be buried that day instead." + +The dark eyes of the Mexican swept him with a sidelong glance. If he +could do it without incurring responsibility himself, he was very +willing to spur on the fierce passion of this man. + +"Be careful, señor. Pasquale is dangerous." + +"You know he is dangerous--to Ramon Culvera. Why don't you strike and be +done with it?" + +"The time is not ripe. Some day--perhaps--" He let a shrug of his +shoulders finish the sentence for him. + +"It's always mañana with you Mexicans," sneered Harrison with a savage +lift of the lip. "You want to play it safe all the time. Why don't you +take a chance?" + +"I play my own cards, señor," returned Ramon equably. + +"You play 'em darned close to your stomach. Me, I go out on a limb oncet +in a while." + +"Be sure you don't stay out there--at the end of a rope," smiled the +Mexican. + +"They haven't grown the hemp yet that will hang Chad Harrison." The +prizefighter leaned toward him, eyes shining. "If I pull it off and make +my getaway--what then? Will you send the girl to me, wherever I am?" + +"You mean, if you--" + +"--Give Pasquale what's been coming to him for a long time." + +The eyes of Culvera were slits of light. His face was a brown mask that +covered an alert and wary attention. + +"I didn't hear what you said, amigo. It is better that I shouldn't. But +if I had charge of the army instead of General Pasquale my policy would +be different. I would return this Arizona girl to her home." + +"To her home!" broke in Harrison harshly. + +"To her husband," amended the Mexican significantly, adding after an +instant--"who is a good friend of mine." + +"You'll stand pat on that, will you?" + +"It would be my purpose to reward my friends--those who have helped the +cause--if by any chance command of the Legion should fall to me." + +Harrison glared at him suspiciously. "You're so smooth I don't know +whether I can believe you or not. You'd sell your own father out for the +right price." + +"I pay my debts, señor--both kinds," suggested the Mexican, unmoved at +this outburst. + +"See that you do." + +"Be sure I shall, amigo," returned Culvera, looking straight at him from +narrowed eyes that told nothing. + +The prizefighter took another turn up and down the room. He was anxious +and harassed as well as driven hard by hatred and jealousy. + +"The wolf is having me watched. His orders are that I'm not to be +allowed to leave camp. I don't get any chance to see him alone. If you +ask me, I think he's fixing to have me knifed in the dark," Harrison +burst out. + +"Shouldn't wonder," agreed the young officer with a pleasant smile. He +lived in an atmosphere where such things were not uncommon, and on +occasion could take a hand himself. + +"Fat lot you care," complained the photoplay actor sullenly. "You +wouldn't lift a hand to save your pardner." + +Culvera patted him on the shoulder cheerfully. "What can I do? Do I not +live under the shadow myself? Can I tell when the knife will fall on me? +He is without bowels of mercy, this son of a thief. But this I know: if +you are watched, you must not stay here. Gabriel will be suspicious lest +we are plotting something against him. Good luck, amigo." + +The heavyweight took away with him a heavy heart. He had reached the +stage where his hand was against that of every man. Culvera he did not +trust at all out of his sight beyond the point where the interests of +the young Mexican were parallel to his. In the whole camp he had no +friend, not even the girl for whom he fought. As for Pasquale, Harrison +had told the truth. He believed the general had doomed him. Unless he +struck first, he was a lost man. Why had he been fool enough to boast +to the old scoundrel what he would do? His temper had robbed him of the +chance to kill and then escape. + +He passed down the street toward the river. A dozen boys and young men +sat in the shadow of the adobe wall that fronted the road opposite one +of the corrals. It chanced that Harrison dropped his handkerchief at +this point and stooped to pick it up. + +Thirty minutes later a barefooted youth came down to the river carrying +an olla for water. Harrison lay sleeping under a cottonwood that edged +the trail. One arm was outstretched so that the closed fist lay almost +across the path. + +The soldier boy whistled gayly as he walked. Oddly enough, just as he +reached the sleeping Gringo, the outflung arm lifted abruptly from the +ground for an inch or two. A little package shot four feet up into the +air and was caught deftly by the barefoot trooper as it descended. + +The lips of Harrison barely moved. "Ride to-night, Enrique. Colonel +Farrugia will also reward you well." + +"Si, señor," nodded Enrique, and went on his way. + +The face of the boy was toward the camp on the return journey. The +American was still fast asleep. The lad went whistling past him without +any sign of recognition. + +Several times during the next hour Harrison took a long pull from a +bottle he carried in his coat pocket. After a time he rose and walked +heavily down the main street of the village until he came to the house +where Captain Holcomb had been put up. + +The Texan was sitting on his porch smoking a pipe. Behind him, a few +feet away, Cabenza was cleaning a rifle for his new master. + +"I wanta talk to you about something, Captain Holcomb," announced the +film actor. + +The soldier looked at him steadily. "Go to it," he ordered curtly. + +"This is private business." + +Holcomb did not turn his head or raise his voice. "Pedro, vamos." + +The feet of Cabenza could be heard hitting the dust as he vanished +around the corner of the house. + +Without beating around the bush Harrison came to his subject. He jerked +a thumb over his right shoulder. + +"It's that girl up at the house there I want to talk about." + +"What about her?" + +"He's got no business keeping her there. She's a straight girl." + +"Is she?" + +"Yes, sir. She is." + +"Then why did you bring her here?" Holcomb's question was like the +thrust of a sword. + +"Because I was a fool." + +"Better give things their right names. You were a damned villain." + +A dull flush rose to the cheeks of the prizefighter. "All right. Let it +go at that. I guess you're right. What I want to know now is whether +you're going to stand for Pasquale's play. He's got one wife +already--half a dozen, far as I know. You going to let him put this +wedding farce over without a kick?" + +"Can I stop it?" + +"You can register a roar, can't you?" + +"Would it do any good? Did yours?" + +"You're different. He needs you to drill this ragged bunch of hoboes he +calls an army. Pasquale has a lot of respect for you. He talked a lot +about you before you came." + +"If you want to know, I've already spoken to him about it." + +"What did he say?" + +"Gave me to understand that if I'd attend to my business he'd mind his. +And I'm going to do it," concluded Holcomb with sharp decision. + +"You mean you're going to lie down like a yellow dog and quit, that +you'll let this wolf take that lamb and ruin her life! Is that what you +mean?" + +Holcomb sat forward in his chair, so that his strong, lean, sunburnt +face was as close to the other man as possible. "You talk both like a +coward and a fool. You brought the girl here against her will. If +Pasquale had been willing to let you force her into a marriage with you, +I wouldn't have heard a squeal out of you. But he butted in. He took her +from you. Now you come hollering to me, you quitter. Instead of fighting +it out to a finish, you run to me. Talk about yellow curs. Faugh!" + +"What can I do?" exploded Harrison in a rage. "He has four men watching +her room at night now. Every time I move his cursed spies follow me. +There are two of them over there now. Pasquale won't even let me see +him. He's aimin' to have me killed, I believe." + +"Serve you right," the soldier of fortune flung at him as he rose from +his chair. "Killing is none too good for your kind. Pity some one didn't +stamp you out before you brought that little girl down here to this sink +of perdition." + +Harrison swallowed down his anger. "That's all right. I'll stand for it. +If I didn't believe it myself, you'd have a heluvatime getting away with +such talk. But it goes just as you lay it down. I'm a skunk and all the +rest of it. Now, listen! I ain't such a four-flusher as to lay down my +hand before I've played it out. See! I'm not through with Gabriel +Pasquale. Watch my smoke. Him and me hasn't come to a settlement yet." + +"Sounds to me like whiskey talk," answered the Texan scornfully. "Men +who do the kind of things you have done don't have the guts to play out +a losing game." + +"Some do, some don't. By your reputation you're game. All right. Keep +your eyes open, captain." + +Snarling, the man turned away and walked down the street. Holcomb +watched him go. There was something purposeful in the way the +heavyweight moved. Perhaps, after all, he would make a fighting finish +of it. The captain fervently hoped he would drag old Pasquale down with +him before they wiped him off the map. But he knew the betting odds were +all the other way. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A STAGE PREPARED FOR TRAGEDY + + +Not knowing when his opportunity might come, Harrison kept his horse +saddled most of the time. He knew that extra mounted patrols were kept +at the ends of the streets and at other points on the mesa surrounding +the town, and that he would have to take a chance of being able to run +the gauntlet in safety. If luck favored him, he might win past these. +For one thing the Mexicans were very poor shots, a little the worst he +had ever seen. It might be, too, that he would have darkness in his +favor, though he could not count on this. + +By Enrique he had sent to Governor Farrugia a map of the camp, giving +detailed information as to the number and position of the troops and +showing from what direction the camp could best be attacked. In his +letter he had urged immediate action, on the ground that a part of the +men were absent with Major Ochampa on a foraging expedition. If Farrugia +rose to the occasion, he hoped in the confusion of the assault to escape +with Ruth. + +Meanwhile he waited, and the hours slipped away. It was now Friday +noon, and the wedding was to be Saturday morning. + +Four denim-clad troopers and a sergeant marched raggedly down the street +and stopped in front of Harrison's adobe house. + +"The general wishes to see the señor," explained the sergeant. + +The American knew the crucial hour had come. This was the first move of +Pasquale in the programme to destroy him. He made no protest, but +stepped forward at once, leading his horse by the bridle. The sergeant +was a little dubious about the horse, but his orders did not cover the +point and he made no objection. + +Pasquale was standing in front of his house on the porch, bow legs wide +apart and hands crossed behind his back. Harrison stopped directly in +front of him. The soldiers moved back a dozen yards. + +"Well," demanded the heavyweight. + +"I sent for you to explain something to me, sir," said the Mexican +general harshly. + +"What is it?" + +"This letter and map." + +Pasquale stepped forward, handed two papers to Harrison, and quickly +stepped back till his back was against the wall of the house. Something +in his manner stirred the banked suspicions of the American. Already his +nerves were keyed to unusual tension, for he knew the moment of crux +was hurrying toward him. Why had the troopers fallen back so far? Why +was Pasquale so anxious to put a wide space between himself and his +prisoner? + +The eyes of the film actor, clouded with doubt of what was about to take +place, fell to the papers in his hand. He was looking at the letter and +the map he had sent to Governor Farrugia. + +Instantly his mind was made up. But as the blue barrel of his revolver +flashed into sight there came the simultaneous roar of a volley. The +force of it seemed to lift Harrison from his feet. Before his sagging +knees had touched the dust the man was dead. + +Pasquale drew a forty-five and fired three times into the lax and +huddled body. He nodded to the men in the smoke-filled windows upstairs. + +"Come down and bury this Gringo dog's body," he ordered. + +They trooped down noisily. Pasquale kicked the body carelessly with his +toe. "He was a traitor to the cause. The proof is in that paper. Hand it +to me, Juan." + +The general read the letter aloud. "He would have betrayed us all but +for the patriotism of a messenger who would not be bribed. The man +deserved death. Not so?" + +They shouted approval and added, "Viva Pasquale!" in an enthusiastic +roar. Ramon Culvera, who had just arrived on the scene, led the cheering +with much vigor. + +From every house men, boys, and women poured. The streets filled with +noisy patriots. Guns popped here and there to ventilate the energy of +their owners. Troopers galloped up and down the road in clouds of dust +shooting into the air as they rode. Boys who would have run their legs +off to obey a whim of Harrison spat contemptuously upon the face of the +"Gringo cabrone." + +Drawn by the hubbub, Captain Holcomb hurried from his house. He looked +down at the lifeless body four soldiers were carrying away and turned to +Pasquale for an explanation. + +The general handed him the papers that proved Harrison's guilt. "I have +executed a traitor, captain. The dog would have sold us out to Farrugia. +Is his punishment not just?" + +Holcomb looked the papers over and handed them back to his chief. "He +got what was coming to him," he answered quietly. + +"I have witnesses to show that he was drawing his revolver to +assassinate me at the very moment he was shot. My men were just in +time." + +"It was fortunate for you your men happened to be so handy," replied +the American officer with just a suggestion of dryness. + +For Holcomb knew, just as Yeager did, that the scene had been set by +Pasquale for the killing. His men had been stationed in the windows +above, unknown to the victim. The heavyweight had been tempted to reach +for his weapon by the certainty that he had come to the end of the +passage. Doing so, he had given the signal for his own death. Had he +failed to do this, the Mexican general would have sprung the trap +himself in another minute. Fortunately this had not been necessary. +Pasquale was in a position to prove to the United States Government, in +case it became inquisitive, that when the man had been confronted with +his guilt he had tried to kill him and had been shot down red-handed. + +Half an hour later Holcomb came into his house and found Steve cleaning +a pair of revolvers. The captain tossed his hat on the bed and sat down. + +"Up to us, looks like," he commented. + +Yeager nodded silently. + +"Harrison hadn't a look-in. The old scoundrel had the cards stacked," +continued the officer. + +"Yep. Chad sat in against a cold deck. He made a big mistake when he let +the old man take the play." + +"Everything fixed for to-night?" + +"Far as it can be. We've just got to take a big chance and trust to luck +being with us," answered Steve. + +"Guess you'll have to make your own luck. I spoke to Pasquale about a +game here to-night. He grabbed at the bait. Said he would bring Culvera +and Ochampa. I'll make a long session of it so as to give you all the +time you need." + +"Better have a boy here to serve the liquor and cigars. If you should +hear shooting, and Gabriel gets anxious about it, you can send the boy +to find out what it's about. That will give us a few minutes more to get +away." + +"Sure your dope is strong enough?" + +"The man who fixed it ought to know. He's a registered druggist at +Phoenix," replied the range-rider. + +Yeager had never before sat in the anxious seat as nervously as he did +during the next few hours. His nature was not of the kind to borrow +trouble. Usually he could accept responsibility without letting it worry +him. But to-night he was playing for big stakes--his own life certainly +was in the hazard, probably those of Farrar and Threewit, possibly that +of the Texan. And what weighed with him more than all these was the fate +of the young girl in the back room upstairs waiting with a leaden heart +for this dreadful thing that was to befall her. It was in the game that +a man must take his fighting chance. But a girl--and above all girls +Ruth--the thought of it stabbed his heart like a knife. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A CONSPIRACY + + +In settling accounts with Harrison the Mexican general had prepared the +scene, had arranged every detail of it carefully so as to eliminate any +possible chance the heavyweight might otherwise have. Yeager had no +intention of letting Pasquale fix the conditions against him as he had +against the prizefighter. + +"Old Gabriel was holding four aces and Chad only a busted flush. +Pasquale knew it all the time. Harrison must 'a' guessed it too. But if +he did, I don't see why he waited for the old man to spring his trap," +said Steve. + +"It's a matter of temperament, I reckon. Some fellows are game enough +when you put 'em up against trouble good and hard, but they hang back +and wait for it to come to 'em. I expect Harrison didn't know how to +play his hand. Looked that way to me when he talked with me. Likely he +figured he had better wait and see what happened," surmised the captain. + +"He waited too long." + +"Till it was too late to call for a new deal. He had to play those dealt +him." + +"Different here. We'll do the dealing ourselves, captain. Pasquale has +been through the deck and taken out all the big picture cards, but I +expect I can rustle up a six-full that will come handy." Yeager smiled +as he spoke at the .45 he was bestowing about his person. + +Together they set the table for poker, putting on it two new decks, one +blue and one red, and a box of chips that had seen service in many a +midnight fray. On a side table were cigars, cigarettes, and liquor in +plenty. Holcomb intended to see that his guests were properly +entertained while Steve played the bigger and more dangerous game +outside. + +The range-rider knew that the odds were against him, that any one of +fifty trifling accidents might bring to failure the plan he had made. +All he could do was to make his preparations as skillfully as he could +and then try to carry them out coolly and with determination. + +The Mexican boy who had been hired to act as an attendant on the +card-players arrived and Yeager took his leave. The captain followed him +to the porch. + +"Good luck, Steve," he said quietly. + +"Same to you, captain. We'll talk this all over across the line in God's +country some time." + +"Sure," nodded Holcomb. "Well, so-long." + +The younger man answered the nod casually and turned away down the +street. Neither of them thought of shaking hands. Whatever was to happen +was all in the day's work. Both of them belonged to that type of +Westerner which sees a thing through without any dramatics. That this +happened to be a particularly critical thing had no effect on their +manner. + +Holcomb lit a cigar and sat down on the porch to wait for his guests. +They came presently. First were Pasquale and Ochampa, rough and ready as +to clothes, unshaven, betraying continually the class from which they +had risen. Culvera dropped in after a few minutes. He had discarded his +uniform and was in the picturesque regalia of the young Mexican +cavalier. From jingling silver spurs to the costly gold-laced sombrero +he was every inch the dandy. His manners were the pink of urbanity. +Nothing was lacking in particular to the affectionate deference he +showed his chief. It suggested somehow the love of a son and the +admiration of a devoted admirer. + +The general was riding a wave of exhilaration. He had trodden down +another of his enemies and was about to take to himself the spoils of +the battle. Still in his vigorous prime, he was assured the stars were +beckoning him to take the place in Mexico City that neither Madero nor +Huerta had been strong enough to hold. He promised himself to settle +down to moderation, to have done with the wild drinking-bouts that +still occasionally interfered with his efficiency. Meanwhile, to-night +he was again saying farewell to his bachelor days. He drank liberally +but not excessively. + +Ochampa proposed the health and happiness of the bride. It was drunk +with enthusiasm. The general gave them the United States, the sister +republic to the north, and spoke affectingly of his desire to promote a +better feeling between the countries by this marriage. The host had not +expected his poker party to develop so much oratory, but he rose briefly +to the occasion. The subject of his remarks was, "A United Mexico." + +But it was Culvera who capped the climax. He rose, wineglass in hand, +and waited impressively for silence. For five minutes his tongue flowed +on in praises of the Liberator of the people. He heaped superlatives on +extravagant approval after the fashion of our political orators. + +"Need I put a name to this patriot and hero who has won the unbounded +love and loyalty of my youth?" he asked rotundly. "Need I name the +Bolivar, the Washington of Mexico, the next president of this great +republic? If so, I but repeat the name that is on the lips of all the +thousands of our people to whom he is as a father--Gabriel Pasquale." + +Holcomb smiled behind the hand that stroked his mustache. There was +nobody present who did not know pretty accurately how far Ramon's +attachment to his chief went. Gabriel himself, who embraced him +affectionately in thanks, had not the least doubt. But if he had no +illusions in the matter, he did not intend on that account to warn his +lieutenant prematurely that he was next on the list to Harrison. + +Poker presently absorbed their attention. Holcomb was the genial host, +watchful of their wants and solicitous that they should be supplied. No +sign of anxiety betrayed that he was keyed up to a high nervous tension. +He told stories, laughed at those of the others, high spaded for drinks +(though as a matter of fact he was as host furnishing the liquor), made +post-mortem examinations of the deck, and otherwise showed a proper +interest. It was quite necessary that when Pasquale looked back over the +evening with later developments in mind he should not be able to find +any intimations that his host was accessory to the plan to escape. + +Hour after hour slipped away. The captain began to let himself hope that +the forlorn hope of Yeager had brought safety to his friends. Surely by +this time he must either have won or lost his throw for liberty. + +A single shot broke the stillness of the night. + +Pasquale, dealing, stopped with a card in his hand. + +"Funny thing how the guns of sentries are always going off +accidentally," remarked Holcomb casually. "Boy, look to the glasses of +these gentlemen." + +The deal was finished. Culvera opened the pot. The captain stayed. +Ochampa hesitated. + +One shot, a second, and then a fusillade of them shattered the quiet. + +Pasquale flung down his cards and rose hurriedly, overturning his chair. +"Mil diablos! What's to pay?" he cried. + +The others followed him out of the room and house. He ran down the +street as fast as a boy. Already men were emerging from houses half +dressed. The sound of shots came from back of the general's +headquarters. Pasquale doubled around the house and vaulted a fence. He +butted into an excited group and flung men to right and left. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded. + +A soldier pointed to the open window of the room that had been occupied +by Ruth Seymour. "She's gone, Your Excellency." + +"Gone! Gone where?" roared Gabriel. + +"Heaven knows. Her friends have rescued her." + +Pasquale broke into a storm of curses. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +TRAPPED + + +After leaving Holcomb, Yeager walked down to the river-bed, followed the +bank for a couple of hundred yards, and crept forward on all fours +through the alfalfa pasture to the barb-wire fence that paralleled the +road at some distance. He crawled beneath the lowest wire and moved +through the mesquite to a point from which he could see the building +where Farrar and Threewit were held prisoners. Two guards with rifles +across their shoulders paced up and down outside. + +Here Steve lay motionless for about half an hour. He believed that +before the poker game began some one of the party would drop around to +see that all was quiet and regular in the camp. His guess was a good +one. Pasquale himself, arm in arm with Ochampa, made the rounds and +stopped for a moment to speak to the sentries in front of the prison. +The man crouched in the bear grass could tell that Gabriel was in high +good-humor. He jested with the men and clapped them on the shoulder +jovially. He laughed as heartily at his own witticisms as they did. + +"There shall be mescal to-morrow for the whole army to drink the health +of the Liberator and his bride. See to it, Ochampa," he ordered as they +walked away. + +"Viva Pasquale the Liberator," cried the sentries in a fine fervor of +enthusiasm. + +Presently the man in hiding stole quietly to the road and advanced down +it at a leisurely pace. + +"Promising them mescal, eh?" he murmured. "Well, I'll bet a bird in the +hand is worth twenty or most sixteen in the bush." He patted +affectionately a bottle that lay snug in his pocket. + +"Who goes?" demanded one of the prison guards as he approached. + +"Pedro Cabenza." + +Steve chatted with them for a few moments before he produced his bird in +the hand. They told him of what Pasquale had promised. Slyly he looked +around to see that they were alone and drew from his pocket the bottle. + +"Ho, compañero! Behold what I have. Gringo whiskey--better far than +mescal," he cried softly as he handed the treasure to one of the guards. + +The man glanced around hurriedly, even as had Cabenza, then tilted the +mouth of the bottle over his lips and let a long stiff drink gurgle down +his throat. He patted his fat paunch contentedly and handed the bottle +to his companion. The second guard also drank deeply. + +Cabenza put an arm across the shoulders of each and drew their heads +close while he whispered confidential scandal about Pasquale and Ramon +Culvera. The two men listened greedily, eager for more. It happened that +there was no truth in the salacious tidbits which Pedro retailed, but he +invented glibly and that did just as well. + +The heads of his listeners began to nod. They murmured drowsy +interjections and leaned more heavily upon his arms. Ineffectually they +tried to shake off the lassitude that was creeping over their senses. + +"Keep watch, brother, while I take just forty winks," begged one, and +fairly thrust his rifle into the hand of Yeager. + +The soldier staggered to the adobe wall and slumped down beside the +door. His eyes closed, fluttered open again, shut a second time. They +did not open. He was fast asleep. + +The second guard sat down beside him and smiled up sleepily at the +standing man. "Manuel sleeps on duty. He is--a fool. I do--not--sleep. +No, I--I--" + +His head drooped on his chest. Steve took the rifle that fell from his +relaxed hand. + +Instantly the American was tapping gently on the door. +"Threewit--Farrar!" he called softly. "This is Steve." + +There was the sound of quick footsteps. A voice within answered in a +whisper. + +"Yes, Steve. This is Frank." + +From his pocket the range-rider took a bunch of skeleton keys. It was no +trouble to find one that would unlock the door, but in addition to this +fastening there was a padlock. With a hatchet which he had brought +Yeager pried the staple out. In another moment the door was open. + +"Help me drag these fellows inside," ordered the cowpuncher, taking +command promptly. "Frank, tear one of those blankets into strips. We've +got to tie their hands and feet and gag them. Shuck your coat, Threewit. +You've got to wear this fellow's blouse and sombrero. You, too, Frank. +It's Manuel's castaways for you. Move lively, boys. This is surely going +to be our busy evening." + +"What's the programme?" asked Farrar, doing what he was told to do. + +Steve explained briefly. "Old Pasquale has got Ruth Seymour here at his +house. He intends to marry her to-morrow. I don't mean he shall. A good +friend of mine is entertaining the old scoundrel to-night and some of +the other high moguls in camp. My notion is to slip into old Gabriel's +headquarters and rescue Ruth." + +"Has Ruth been here ever since she came down with Harrison that time he +lied to her about you being wounded?" asked Threewit. "We were told you +butted in and took her home." + +"I did. Harrison went to Los Robles later and brought her by force. He +was looking for me and bumped into her by chance. His idea was to marry +her as soon as they reached camp. But Pasquale balked. He took a fancy +to Ruth himself." + +While Yeager talked his fingers were busy every moment. From long usage +he was expert at roping and tying. Many a time he had thrown the diamond +hitch while packing on mountain trails. His skill served him well now. +He trussed the guards as if they had been packs for the saddle, binding +them hand and feet so that they could not move. + +"We heard that an American had been killed in camp to-day. We've been +worried for fear it might have been you, Steve," said the camera man. + +"It was Harrison. He tried to sell Pasquale out to Farrugia and the old +fox got his letter. Pasquale accused him of his treachery and had him +assassinated on the spot. Better pull that sombrero lower over your +face, Threewit. And keep your hands out of the light as much as you can. +They're too white for this section of the country." + +"What if some one talks to me? I can't put over their lingo." + +"Just grunt. I'll do what talking is necessary. All right. We'll make +tracks, boys." + +They stepped outside. Yeager relocked the door and drove the staple back +into the wood with the end of his rifle by steady pressure and not by +blows. + +Steve led them through the bear grass into the pasture and across it to +the river-bank. Here, under the heavy shadows of the overhanging +cottonwoods, he outlined his plans. + +Threewit spoke aloud his fears. "But, good Lord! what chance have we +got? It's a cinch we can't put four more guards out of business without +being seen. And if we are caught--" His voice failed him. + +The cowpuncher looked at him, and then at Farrar. The camera man was +pale, but his eyes met those of his friend steadily. Steve judged he +would do to tie to, that his nerve would pull him through. But the +director was plainly shaken with fears. He was not a coward, but the +privations and anxieties of the past ten days had got on his nerves. His +lips twitched and his fat hand trembled. His life had fallen in too soft +and easy places for this sort of thing. + +The cowboy reassured him gently, even as he rearranged his plans on the +spot. "We're going to pull it off, but as you say there is a chance we +won't make it. I'm going to leave you in the corral with the horses. If +Frank and I should slip up and get caught you'll still have a chance to +get away." + +"I'm going through with it just the same as you boys," insisted the +director shakily. + +"You're going to do as I say, Threewit. I'm elected boss of this rodeo. +One of us has got to stay by the horses to make sure they're ready when +we need 'em. That's going to be you. You're to sit right steady on the +job till we come. If you hear shooting,--and if we don't show up in a +reasonable time after that,--light out and save your hide. Keep that +star--see, the bright one close down to the horizon--keep it right in +front of you all night. By daybreak you ought to be across the line." + +"I'm not going to ride away and leave you boys and Ruth here. What do +you take me for?" demanded Threewit huskily. + +Steve put a hand on the shoulder of the little man. "You're all right, +Billie," he said, with the affectionate smile that men as well as women +loved. "We all know you'll do to take along any time when we need a man +that's on the level. You wait there at the corral. If we show up, good. +If we don't--well, we'll be beyond help. There'll be nothing left for +you to do but burn the wind." + +Frank swallowed hard. "What Steve says goes with me, Billie." + +"Good." Yeager turned briskly to the business in hand. "We might as well +be on our way, boys. There's no hurry, because I want Pasquale and +Culvera to get settled at their game. But I reckon we'll drift along +easy like." + +They waded the river, which at its deepest did not reach to their +calves, and scrambled up the opposite bank to a bench of shale. Yeager, +after a short search, found hidden under the foliage of a prickly pear +the rope he had left there some hours earlier. They were in a large +fenced pasture where were kept the horses of the officers. At one end +could be seen dimly the outline of a little corral. + +"You boys head across that way and wait for me. The remuda is at the +other end of the pasture under the care of a boy," explained the +cowpuncher. + +"Hadn't I better go along with you in case of trouble?" asked Farrar. + +"There isn't going to be any trouble. I'm getting the horses for +Pasquale. See?" + +After the others had left him, Steve lit a cigarette and sauntered to +the far end of the field. Presently he gave a call that brought an +answer. The horses were grazing in a loose herd that covered perhaps a +third of an acre. From behind them emerged a youth on horseback. + +"I want four horses in a hurry," announced the range-rider. + +"What for?" + +"Never mind what for, compadre. I didn't ask old Gabriel what for when +he sent me," grumbled the messenger. + +"Why didn't you say for Pasquale?" The young man was preparing his rope +swiftly and efficiently. "Did the general say what horses?" + +"He named the roan with the white stockings and the white-nosed +buckskin." + +"Then he's going to travel fast and far. Why, in the devil's name, since +he is going to be married in the morning?" + +"Why does the general always do what isn't expected? The saints know. I +don't," growled Steve. + +Both of them were expert ropers. In five minutes the American was +swallowed in the darkness. He was astride the bare back of the buckskin +and was leading the other ponies. As soon as he knew he was safely out +of sight and hearing, he deflected toward the corral. + +His friends were waiting for him anxiously. Steve dropped lightly to the +ground. + +"Hold the horses a minute, Frank," he said. + +Striding to a feed-stall filled with alfalfa, he tossed the hay aside +and dragged to the light a saddle. Presently he uncovered a second, a +third, and a fourth. + +"Brought them here last night--stole them from the storehouse," he +explained casually. + +"You didn't overlook any bets--thought of everything, even to +saddle-blankets and water-bags already full," contributed Farrar, +digging up these supplies from the alfalfa. + +Steve cinched the saddles himself, though Farrar was a fair horseman. If +it came to a pinch the turning of a saddle might spoil everything, and +so far as he could the range-rider was forestalling any accidents that +might be due to carelessness. + +"How long am I to wait for you?" asked Threewit. + +"We'd ought to be back inside of an hour and a half--if luck's with us. +But we may be delayed by some one hanging around. Give us two hours or +even two and a half--unless hell begins to pop." Steve looked at his +watch in the moonlight. "Say till twelve o'clock. Of course, when you +go, you'll leave the other horses here on the chance that we come later. +You'd better ride that round-bellied bay." + +"Am I to follow the star right up the hill?" + +"No. Better take the draw. The sentinels will be on the hill. Likely +they'll see you and shoot at you. But don't stop, even if they're +close. Keep a-going. They can't hit a barn door." + +"Neither can I," lamented the director. + +"Then you'll all be safe." Yeager turned to Farrar. "Come on, Frank." + +The two crossed the pasture to the river and waded through the shallow +stream to the other side. They remained in the shadows of the bank, +following the bend of the river as it circled the village. Through the +cottonwoods they crept toward the rear of the two-story house where +Pasquale lived and Ruth was held prisoner. + +From a sandy spot at the foot of a cotton wood tree Yeager dug a rope +ladder. + +"Been making it while I was night-herding the remuda," he told Farrar in +answer to a surprised question. + +"Beats me you didn't make an auto for us to get away in," answered his +admiring friend with a grin. + +"Wait here," whispered Steve. "I'm going forward to look the ground +over. Keep your eyes open in case I give a signal." + +The range-rider snaked his way toward the house, moving so slowly and +noiselessly that Farrar lost sight of him entirely and began to wonder +where he had gone. It must have been nearly twenty minutes later that he +caught a glimpse of him without his rifle. Yeager was engaged in +confidential talk with a guard in uniform. Frank saw the bottle pass +from his friend to the Mexican, who took a pull at it. A second guard +joined the two presently. He also took a drink. + +The three disappeared together into the shadowy darkness of the house +wall. Farrar was wondering what had happened when a single figure +emerged into the moonlight and made a signal for him to come forward. + +Yeager did not wait for him, but climbed up the post of the back porch +as he had done once before. The camera man was on hand by the time Steve +reached the roof. He looked up silently while his friend reached across +and rapped on the window of a lighted room. The sash was raised very +gently. + +Ruth leaned out. "Is it you, Steve?" Her voice was tremulous and +tearful. It was a safe guess she had been sobbing her misery into a +pillow. + +"Yes." + +He caught hold of the edge of the window and swung across, working +himself up and in by sheer power of muscle. Rapidly he fastened the end +of the rope ladder to the head of the bed, which he first half lifted +and half dragged to the window. The rest of the ladder he threw out. + +"Ready, Ruth?" he asked, turning to her. + +She nodded. He was offering his arm to help her through the window when +a frightened call came from below. + +"Steve!" + +He looked down. A Mexican trooper, one of those set to guard the front +of the house, was approaching. A glance was enough to show that he knew +something to be wrong. His startled eyes passed from Farrar to the rope +ladder. They followed it from the ground to the window. He stopped, +almost under the window. The camera man, taken aback, did not know what +to do. Was he to run the risk of a shot? Even while he hesitated the man +in uniform reached for a revolver. + +Yeager knew what to do, and he did it promptly. Sweeping Ruth back from +the window, he clambered through himself and poised his body for the +leap. The sentry looked up again, saw what was about to happen, and let +out a startled scream at the same instant that he flung up an arm and +fired. Steve felt a sharp sting in his leg as he descended through the +air. He landed astride on the shoulders of the Mexican. The man went to +earth, hammered down so hard that the breath was driven from his body. + +The arm of the range-rider rose and fell once. In his hand was the blue +barrel of a revolver. The corrugated butt of the .45 had crashed into +the thick matted hair of the Mexican. But it had done its work. Yeager +rose quickly. The soldier lay still. + +Already Ruth was coming down the swaying ladder. She dropped the last +few rounds with a rush, plump into the arms of Steve. + +"Let us hurry--hurry," she cried. + +It was time to be gone, if not too late. Already men were converging +upon them from different sides. Others were bawling orders for soldiers +to turn out. + +Steve went down almost as quickly as he had risen. His leg had given way +unexpectedly. + +Before he reached his feet again his revolver was out and doing +business. + +"Fire at their legs, Frank. All we want to do is to stop them. Ruth, you +run ahead, straight for the trees. We'll be with you in a minute," +Yeager gave orders quietly. + +The girl flashed one look at him, found assurance in his strong, lean +face, and obeyed without a word. + +Farrar's rifle was already scattering bullets rather wildly into the +night. Lead spattered against the adobe wall behind them. But the +attackers were checked. Their fire was of a desultory character. There +was such a thing as being too impetuous. Who were these men they were +assailing? Perhaps they were acting under orders of Pasquale. Better +not be too rash. So the mind of the peon soldiers decided. + +As soon as Ruth had reached the shelter of the grove her friends moved +to join her. They were halfway across the open when the cowpuncher +plunged to the ground again. + +The camera man turned and ran back to him. "What is it, Steve? Have they +hit you?" he asked anxiously. + +"Plugged a pill into my laig as I took the elevator down from the second +story. Gimme a hand up." + +Frank put an arm around his waist as a support and they reached cover +just as the leg failed for a third time. Yeager crawled forward a few +yards on his knees into the underbrush. + +Soft arms slid around his neck and shoulder as someone plumped down +beside him. + +"You're wounded. You've been shot," Ruth breathed tremulously. + +"Yes," assented Yeager. "Hand me your rifle, Frank." + +They exchanged weapons. Steve had already made up his mind exactly what +was best to do. + +"I'm going to stay here awhile and hold them back. You go on with Ruth, +Frank. Leave a horse for me. I'll be along later," he explained. + +"We're not going away to leave you here," protested Ruth indignantly. + +His voice was so matter of fact and his manner so competent that she had +already drawn back, half ashamed, from the caressing support to which +her feelings had driven her. + +He turned on her eyes cool and steely. "You're going to do as I say, +girl. You're wasting time for all of us every moment you stay. Take her, +Frank." + +Farrar spoke in a low voice of troubled doubt. "But what are you going +to do, Steve? We can't leave you here." + +The bullets of the Mexicans were searching the grove for them. Any +moment one might find a mark. + +The range-rider made a gesture of angry impatience. "You obey orders +fine, don't you?" His face flashed sudden anger. "Get out. I know my +plans, don't I? Pull your freight. Vamos!" + +"And you'll be along later, will you?" + +"Of course I will. I've got it all arranged. Hurry, or it will be too +late." + +Ruth half guessed his purpose. She began to sob, but let herself be +hurried away by Farrar. + +"He's going to stay there. He's not coming at all," she wailed as she +ran. + +"Sho! Of course he's coming. You know Steve, don't you? He's always got +something good up his sleeve." + +But though her friend reassured her, he could not still his own fears. +Something in him cried out against the desertion of a wounded ally, one +who had risked his life to save them all. Still, there was the girl to +be considered. If Yeager wanted to give his life for hers he had the +right. Many a good man of the Southwest would have done what Steve was +doing, given the same circumstances. It was up to him, Farrar, to back +his friend's play and see it through. + +Yeager crawled on his hands and knees into a mesquite thicket from which +he could command a view of the open space back of Pasquale's house. He +broke carefully half a dozen twigs that interfered with the free play of +his rifle. Then he placed his revolver beside him ready for action. +After which he waited, tense and watchful. + +Mexicans were swarming about the back of the house. One climbed the rope +ladder, looked in the window, and explained with much gesturing to those +below that the room was empty. Random shots were thrown toward the river +and into the grove. But nobody headed the pursuit. They were waiting for +a leader. + +Then Pasquale burst furiously into sight around the house. Culvera, +Ochampa, and Holcomb followed him. The general flung himself into an +excited group, tossing to right and left those who were in his way. He +snapped out questions, gave orders, and stamped over the ground like a +madman. + +Called by Culvera, he strode forward to one of the drugged guards. In an +impotent fury he shook the man, trying to waken him from his sleep; +then, raging at his failure, he flung the helpless body against the wall +and turned on his heel. + +Order began to evolve out of the mob. Pasquale himself organized the +pursuit. He spread the line out so that as it advanced it would sweep +the whole space to the river. There was no longer any wild firing. Men +brought from the stables eight or ten horses for the officers. + +As the line moved forward, Yeager thought it time to let the enemy know +where he was. He drew a bead on the general, moved his rifle slightly to +the left, and fired. Pasquale drew his sword and waved it. + +"Take the girl alive. Shoot down the traitor dogs with her," he cried +savagely. "One hundred pesos to the man who kills either of them or +captures her." + +Steve answered this by firing twice, once with his revolver and almost +immediately afterward with his rifle. Ochampa sat down suddenly. He had +been hit in the leg. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE PRISONER + + +Pasquale changed his tactics. Having located his prey with fair +accuracy, he spread his men so as to converge upon the fugitives as the +spokes of a wheel do toward the hub. His instructions were that the men +were not to fire unless they were within close enough range to be sure +not to hit the girl. + +His courage had been tested often enough to be beyond doubt, so Gabriel +contented himself with waiting behind his horse for the captives to be +brought to him. He had no intention of being killed in a skirmish of +this kind as long as he had peons to send forward in his place. + +"Bet five dollars gold I have them inside of a quarter of an hour, +captain," the Mexican general said, peering across his saddle toward the +grove. + +"Yes," assented Major Ochampa in a depressed voice. He objected to +having camp vagrants take liberties with his leg. "Hope you make an +example of them, general." + +Pasquale turned, his eyes like cold lights on a frosty night. "They'll +pray for death a hundred times before it comes to them," he promised +brutally. Then, with quick surprise, "Where's Holcomb?" + +"He went forward with the men." + +"Just like him," replied Gabriel, shrugging his shoulders. "The madman +must always be in the thick of it. It's the Gringo way." + +From his mesquite thicket Yeager kept up as rapid a fire as possible, +using rifle and revolver alternately so as to deceive the enemy into +believing the whole party was there. His object was merely to gain time +for his escaping friends. Ochampa had been wounded as an object lesson, +but he did not intend to kill any of those who were surrounding him. If +there had been a dozen of them he would have fought it out to a finish, +but with one against a thousand he felt it would be useless murder to +kill. + +Steve fired into the air, knowing that would do just as well to delay +the attackers. Each time he fired his revolver he called aloud softly to +himself the number of the shot. It was essential to his plan that there +should be one bullet left the moment before they took him. + +He could hear them stumbling toward him through the brush and could make +out the dark figures as they crawled forward. + +"Four," he counted as he fired his revolver into the air and cut off a +twig. + +His rifle sang out twice. He waited, listening. Bushes crackled a few +yards behind him. Snatching up his revolver, he turned. + +"Don't fire, Steve," said a low voice in perfectly good English. + +Holcomb came out of the thicket toward him. + +"Hello, captain. Nice large warm evening. You out taking the air?" asked +the cowpuncher. + +"Did the rest get away?" + +"Hope so. I had rotten luck. One of the guards plugged me in the leg, so +I thought I'd kinder keep the Legion busy while our friends make their +getaway." + +"Can't you run?" + +"Can't even walk." Yeager raised the revolver and fired. "Five. One left +now." + +His eye met that of the captain. Each of them understood perfectly. + +"That first shot of yours just missed Pasquale. Pity you didn't shoot +straighter." + +"I had a dead beat on the old scamp, but I didn't want him. If Ruth gets +away, that's all I ask. He's all kinds of a wolf, but Mexico needs him, +I reckon." + +"You're right about that, Steve. It wouldn't have done you any good to +lay him out. Here they come." + +A man ploughed through the brush toward them. Another appeared to the +left. The face of a third peered around the trunk of an adjacent +cottonwood. Of a sudden the grove seemed alive with them. + +Raising his gun, Steve nodded farewell to his friend. + +A moment before Holcomb had had no intention of interfering, but an +impulse that was almost an inspiration gave springs to his muscles. He +leaped. + +The fling of his arm sent the shot flying wildly into the night. Yeager +turned on him furiously as he picked himself up to his knees. + +"What did you do that for?" + +"I don't know--had no intention of it a moment before. Maybe I've done +you a bad turn, Steve. It came over me as a hunch that you were coming +out of this all right." + +"The devil it did. Gimme your gun. Quick!" + +It was too late. The Mexicans were closing with him. They flung him down +and pegged him to the ground with their weight. He made no attempt to +struggle. + +"Get off of him. He's my prisoner," roared Holcomb, flinging one of the +Mexicans back. + +They poured on him a flood of protesting Spanish. They had taken him +while he was still at large. The reward was theirs. + +"Confound the reward. You may have it, but the man belongs to me. Get +up. He's wounded. Two of you will have to carry him." + +"But if he tries to escape, señor--" + +"Don't be a fool," snapped Holcomb curtly. + +The captain was troubled in his heart. Had he saved this fine young +fellow to be the plaything of old Pasquale's vengeance? He knew well +enough what would happen to the Arizonian if Ruth escaped. But as long +as there was life there was a chance. Something might turn up yet to +save him. + +When Pasquale found that only an insignificant peon Pedro Cabenza had +been taken in his dragnet, he exploded with fury. He ordered the man +shot against the nearest wall at once. + +Culvera turned the prisoner so that the moon fell full upon his face. He +looked searchingly at him. Yeager knew that he was discovered. He spoke +in English. + +"Good-evening, Colonel Culvera. You've guessed right, but you've guessed +it a little too late." + +"What is this? Who is this man?" demanded Pasquale harshly. + +"The man Yeager, who escaped from you two weeks since," explained Ramon. +"He has been in camp with us over a week arranging this girl's escape." + +The old general let out a bellow of rage. He strode forward to make +sure for himself. Roughly he seized his prisoner by the hair of the head +and twisted the face toward him. + +"Sorry I had to leave you so abruptly last time, general. Did you have a +pleasant night?" taunted Yeager. + +Gabriel choked. He was beyond words. + +"I see you haven't been able to get anybody else to assassinate your +friend Culvera yet," he said pleasantly. + +The American had given up hope of life. He was trying to spur Pasquale +into such an uncontrollable anger that his death would be a swift and +easy one. + +"Tie him hand and foot. Let a dozen men armed with rifles stay in the +room with him till I return. Ochampa, I hold you responsible. If he +escapes--" + +"He won't escape," answered the major. "I'll see to that myself." + +"See that you do." Pasquale swung to the saddle and looked around. +"Ramon, you're not a fool. Where shall we look for this girl and those +with her?" he demanded, scowling. + +"They must have horses to escape, general. Except in the stable here, +which is guarded heavily, the nearest are across the river in the +direction they must be moving." + +"Of course. Juan, have the remuda driven up and let every man saddle +his horse. We'll comb these hills if we must. Maldito! She shan't escape +me." + +He galloped off at the head of his troop, taking the short cut to the +pasture. + +The prisoner was dragged into the house where Ochampa was staying. A +doctor presently arrived and took care of the wounded leg of the major. +After he had finished dressing it, he turned to Yeager. + +"No use bothering with mine. I'll have worse wounds soon," the man from +Arizona told him calmly. + +The little doctor smiled genially because his heart was good. "Quien +sabe, señor? Yet it is my duty," he reminded his patient gently. + +"Old Gabriel might not say so," demurred Steve. + +Yet he conceded the point and let the surgeon minister to him. There was +no anaesthetic. The patient had to set his teeth and bear the pain while +the bullet was removed and the wound washed and dressed. Little beads of +perspiration stood out on his forehead. The lean muscles of his cheeks +stood out like ropes. But no sound escaped his lips. + +"You are a brave man," said the doctor when he had finished. "I wish you +good fortune, sir." + +A faint smile rested in the eyes of the cowpuncher. "I'm right likely +to have it, don't you think?" he asked ironically. + +Whether Ochampa suspected Holcomb of being in collusion with his +countryman or was merely taking no chances, the prisoner had no way of +telling. But the major refused flatly to let the artillery officer into +the room. + +"Tell him he can see the man after the general returns--if the general +wants him to see him," he told the messenger. + +They could hear the voice of Holcomb, angry and insistent, protesting +against such treatment. But a file of soldiers stood between him and the +room. He had to retire defeated. + +Slate-colored dawn rolled up without the return of Pasquale. With every +passing hour Steve gathered hope. It was certain that Ruth and her +friends had escaped through the lines or they must have been brought +back long ago. And if they once reached the hills and became lost among +them, they would surely be safe from pursuit. + +The prisoner was drinking a cup of coffee the doctor had brought him +when the sound of horses' hoofs came to him through the open window. + +The voice of Pasquale rang out, and at the sound of it Steve's heart +grew chill. For there was in the timbre of it a brutal, jovial triumph. + +"Take these horses, boys,--feed them, water them. Let the girl go to +her room, Ramon, but see that she is watched every minute. Garcia, +attend to the Gringos." + +He strode into the room where Yeager was detained. His greedy little +eyes sparkled; his face exuded malice and self-conceit. + +"Ho, ho, amigo! Who laughs now?" he jeered. "I found your +friends--stumbled on them in a pocket of the hills while we were +returning. They had lost their way, of course, since Señor Yeager was +unfortunately not able to go along. So I brought them home to breakfast. +Was I not kind?" + +He threw back his head and laughed. Steve said nothing. His heart was +sick. He had thrown the dice for his great chance and lost. + +"First, to breakfast," repeated the Mexican. "And afterward--the young +lady shall have love. Por Dios, you shall be at the wedding," decided +Pasquale on malicious impulse, hammering on the table with his great +fist. + +"If I had only had the sense to pull the trigger last night when I had +you at my mercy," Yeager commented aloud. + +"Yes, you and all her friends--you shall all be there to wish her +joy--even Holcomb, who wearies me with his protests. Maldito! Is Gabriel +Pasquale not good enough for a kitchen wench from Arizona?" + +"It's an outrage beyond belief." + +"And afterward--while the little chatita makes love to Gabriel--her +friend Steve whom she loves will suffer his punishment with what +fortitude he can." + +"And her other friends?" + +"Behold, it is a great day, señor. Not so? If the chatita, linda de mi +alma (pugnosed one, pretty creature of my love), asks for their freedom, +she shall have it. I, Gabriel, will send them home under safe escort. Am +I not generous? A kind lover? Not so?" + +Steve turned his head away and looked through the window at the sun +rising behind the distant hills. There was nothing to be said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE TEXAN TAKES A LONG JOURNEY + + +Pasquale was as good as his word. He arranged that Yeager should see the +function from first to last. The wounded man, his hands tied behind his +back, heavily guarded, was in the front row of the crowd which lined the +short walk between the headquarters of the general and the little adobe +church. The petty officer in command told him that after the bridal +procession had passed he was to be taken into the balcony of the church +for the ceremony. + +"And afterward, while Gabriel makes love to the muchacha, the Gringo +Yeager will learn what it means to displease the Liberator," promised +the brown man with a twinkle of cruel little eyes. + +Steve gave no sign that he heard. He understood perfectly that the +ingenuity of Pasquale would make the day one long succession of tortures +for him. It was up to him to mask his face and manner with the stoicism +of an Apache. + +At a little distance he saw Farrar and Threewit, both of them very +anxious and pale. He would have called a greeting to them except that he +was afraid it might prejudice their chances. + +Captain Holcomb passed in front of him and stopped. + +"Mornin', Steve," he said. + +"Mornin', captain." The haggard eyes of the cowpuncher asked a question +before his lips framed it. "Can't you do anything for the little girl? +Has this hellish thing got to go through?" + +"The prisoner will keep silent," snapped the Mexican sergeant. + +Holcomb looked at the man with eyes of chill authority. "When I speak to +the prisoner he answers. Understand?" + +"Si, señor," muttered the sergeant, taken aback. "But the general +said--" + +"Forget it," cut in the Texan crisply. He turned to Yeager and spoke +deliberately, looking straight at him. "Pasquale is going through with +this thing. Just as sure as the old reprobate is alive the padre will +marry your little friend to him within half an hour." + +Was Captain Holcomb giving him a message? Steve did not know. It seemed +to him that there was some hidden meaning in the long look of the steady +eyes. + +The soldier nodded curtly and turned away. The Texan was dressed with +unusual care. He was wearing tanned boots newly polished and the trim +khaki uniform of an officer of the United States Army. Looking at him, +Yeager thought he had never seen a finer figure of a man. He carried +himself with the light firmness of a trained soldier. + +The cowpuncher was puzzled. Had Holcomb an ace up his sleeve? If so, +what could it be? He had said that the marriage would be pushed through +_just as sure as Pasquale was alive_. Had there been the slightest +emphasis on that part of the sentence? Steve was not certain. It had +struck him that the captain's soft voice had lingered on the words, but +that might have been fancy. Yet he could not escape the feeling that +something tragic was impending. + +The chattering of the peons crowded in the road died away as if at a +signal. From the other end of the line rose a shout. "Viva Pasquale! +Viva Pasquale!" + +Troopers pushed through and opened up a lane. + +The general was for once in full uniform. Evidently he had just come +from the hands of a barber. His fierce mustache and eyebrows had been +trimmed and subdued. He smiled broadly as he bowed to the plaudits of +his men. + +Then he turned and Steve caught sight of the bride. Colorless to the +lips, she trembled as she moved forward, her eyes on the ground. + +It was as if some bell rang within her to tell of the presence of her +lover. Ruth raised her big sad eyes and they met those of Steve. Her +lips framed his name soundlessly. She seemed to lean toward him, +straining from Pasquale, whose arm supported her. + +Somehow she broke free and flung herself toward the man she loved. Her +arms fastened around his neck. With a shivering sob she clung tightly to +him. + +Pasquale, his eyes stabbing with brutal rage, dragged her back and held +her wrist in his sinewy brown hand. His teeth were clenched, the veins +in his temples swollen. He glared at the cowpuncher as if he would like +to murder him on the spot. + +The padre touched Gabriel on the arm. With a start the Liberator came to +himself. The procession moved forward again. Not a word had been spoken, +but Pasquale's golden smile had vanished. The fingernails of his +clenched fist bit savagely into the palm of his hand. + +From the procession Culvera saluted Yeager ironically. "Buenos and +adios, señor." + +The man to whom he spoke did not even know the Mexican was there. His +eyes and his mind were following the girl who was being driven to her +doom. + +From out of the crowd edging the walk a man stepped. It was Adam +Holcomb. He stood directly in front of Pasquale and his bride, blocking +the way. There was a strange light in his eyes. It was as if he looked +from the present far into the future, as if somehow he were a god, an +Olympian who held in his hand the shears of destiny. + +The general, still furious, flung an angry look at him. "Well?" he +demanded harshly. + +"I want to ask the lady a question, general." + +Impatient rage boiled out of Pasquale in an imperious gesture of his +arm. "Afterward, captain. You shall ask her a hundred. Move aside." + +"I'll ask it now. This wedding doesn't go on until I hear from the young +lady that she is willing," he announced. + +Ruth tried to run forward to him, but the iron grip of the Mexican +stayed her. "Save me," she cried. + +"By God! I will." + +"Arrest that man," ordered Pasquale in a passion. + +At the same time he pushed Ruth from him into the crowd that lined the +path. The brown fingers of the Mexican chief closed upon the handle of +his revolver. + +"Here's where I go on a long journey," the Texan cried. + +He dragged out an army forty-five. Pasquale and he fired at the same +instant. The Mexican clutched at his heart and swayed back into the +crowd. Holcomb staggered, but recovered himself. He faced the other +Mexican officers, tossed away his revolver, and folded his arms. + +"Whenever you are ready, gentlemen," he said quietly. + +Ramon Culvera was the first to recover. From his automatic revolver he +flung a bullet into the straight, erect figure facing him. The others +crowded forward and fired into the body as it began to sink. The Texan +gave a sobbing sigh. Before his knees reached the ground he was dead. + +The suddenness of the tragedy, its unexpectedness, held the crowd with +suspended breath. What was to follow? Was this the beginning of a +massacre? Each man looked at his neighbor. Another moment might bring +forth anything. + +With a bound Ramon vaulted to the saddle of a horse standing near. His +sword made a half-circle of steel as it swept through the air. From +where he sat he could be seen by all. + +"Brothers of the Legion, patriots all, let none become excited. I have +killed with my own hand the traitor who shot our beloved leader. Gabriel +Pasquale is dead, but our country lives. Viva Mexico!" + +The answer came from thousands of brown, upturned faces. "Viva Mexico! +Viva Culvera!" + +The young officer swung the sword around his head. His eyes flashed. +"Gracias. Friends, I solemnly pledge my life to the great cause of the +people. Our hero is dead. We mourn him and devote ourselves anew to the +principles for which he fought. Never shall I lay down this sword until +I have won for you the rights of a free nation. I promise you land for +all, wealth for all, freedom from tyranny. Down with all the foes of the +poor." + +Again the shouts rang out, this time louder and clearer. Already these +simple, childlike peons were answering the call of their new master. Old +Pasquale, who for years had held their lives in the hollow of his hand, +lay crumpled on the ground almost forgotten. A new star was shining in +their firmament. + +"We shall march to Mexico, down the usurper, and distribute the stolen +wealth of him and his pampered minions among the people to whom it +belongs. Every Mexican shall have a house, land, cattle. He shall be the +slave of none. His children shall be fed. We shall have peace and +plenty. I, Ramon Culvera, swear it. Mexico for the Mexicans." + +Culvera was an orator. His resonant voice stirred the emotions of this +ragged mob that under the leadership of Pasquale had been hammered into +an army efficient enough to defeat well-armed regulars. The men pressed +closer to listen. Their primitive faces reflected the excitement the +speaker stirred in them. They interrupted with shouts and cheers. + +Others among the officers had ambitions for leadership, but they knew +now that Ramon had made the moment his and forestalled them. He had won +the army over to him. + +He spoke briefly, but he took pains to see that no other speaker +followed him. The plaudits for "General Culvera" rang like sweet music +in his ears. They told him that he had at a bound passed the officers +who ranked him and was already in effect chief of the Army of the North. + +Briefly he gave directions for the care of the body of the dead general +and for the safety of the American prisoners pending a disposition of +their cases. Before dismissing the army, he called an immediate +conference of the officers. + +Resolved to strike while the iron was hot, Culvera took charge of the +meeting of officers and proposed at once the election of a general to +succeed Pasquale. His associates were taken by surprise. They looked out +of the windows and saw pacing up and down the armed sentries Ramon had +set. They heard still an occasional distant cheer for the new leader. +Given time, they might have organized an opposition. But Culvera drove +them to instant decision. They faced the imperious will of a man who +would stick at nothing to satisfy his ambition. + +Moreover, Ramon was popular. He was of a good family, democratic in +manner, never arrogant on the surface to his equals. It had been his +object to make friends against the possibility of just such a +contingency. Most of the officers liked, even though they did not fully +trust him. They recognized that he had the necessary confidence in +himself for success and also the touch of dramatic genius that may make +of a soldier a public idol. + +For which reasons they submitted to his domination and elected him +successor of Pasquale as commander of the Legion of the North. Whereupon +Ramon unburdened himself of another fiery oration of patriotism full of +impossible pledges. + +The newly chosen general sent an orderly out to proclaim the day a +holiday and to see that mescal was served to all the men in honor of the +event. After which the conference discussed the fate of the American +prisoners. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +AT SUNSET + + +Steve, in solitary confinement, with only his throbbing leg for company, +was under no illusions as to what his punishment would be. Pasquale had +been killed by an American who had been seen talking with Yeager five +minutes before he had shot the general. The charge against him would +probably be conspiracy, but it did not much matter what the excuse was. +His life would be snuffed out certainly. + +There were several reasons why Culvera should sacrifice him and not one +why he should be spared. Ramon had a personal grudge against him, and +the new commander was not a man to forget to pay debts of this kind. +Moreover, the easiest way to still any whispered doubts of his own +loyalty to Pasquale was to show sharp severity in punishing those +charged with being implicated in his death. + +Yeager accepted it as settled that he was doomed. + +But what about his friends? What of Threewit and Farrar? And, above all, +what of Ruth? Would Culvera think it necessary to extend his vengeance +to them? Or would prudence stay his hand after he had executed the chief +offender? + +Culvera was a good politician. The chances were that he would not risk +stirring up a hornet's nest by shooting a man as well known in the +United States as Threewit. Since Farrar was in the same case, he would +probably stand or fall by the Lunar director. As for Ruth--her _life_ +would be safe enough. There was no doubt of that. But--what of her +future? + +Ramon was a known libertine. No scruples would restrain him if he +thought the game was a safe quarry. And Steve knew with a sinking heart +that he could offer to any official inquiry of the United States +Government a plausible story of an abandoned woman who had come to camp +to sell her charms to the highest bidder. It would be easy to show that +she had ridden down with a man suspected of being a rustler and known to +be a bad character, that she had jilted him for Pasquale who was already +married and a good deal more than twice her age, and that after the +death of Gabriel she had turned at once to his successor. To twist the +facts in support of such an interpretation of her conduct would require +only a little distortion here and there. The truth, twisted, makes the +most damnable lies. + +Without any heroics Holcomb had given his life to save her because she +was an American woman. Yeager counted himself a dead man in the same +cause. What wrung his heart now, and set him limping up and down his +cell regardless of the pain from his wounded leg, was the fear that the +price had been paid in vain. Little Ruth! Little Ruth! His heart went +out to her in an agony of despair. + +While he clung rigid to the window bars of his prison the rusty lock in +the door creaked. The sergeant with the cruel little eyes entered with +three men. + +"Ho, ho! The general wants the Gringo to cut out his heart and liver. +Come! Let us not keep him waiting. He is sharpening the knife and it may +lose the edge." + +A horse was waiting outside and the prisoner was assisted to the saddle. +One man led the horse by the bridle and on either side of Yeager rode a +second and a third. All of them were armed. The new general was taking +no chances of an escape. + +At sight of the American the young Mexican at the head of the long table +where Pasquale had held his councils showed a flash of fine teeth in a +glittering smile. + +"Welcome, Señor Yeager. How is the wounded leg?" + +Steve nodded casually. "It's talking to me, general, but I reckon it's +good enough to do all the walking I'll ask of it," he answered quietly. + +Culvera turned with a laugh to Ochampa. "He is what the Gringoes call +game. Is it not so, major?" + +Ochampa, his wounded leg on a chair, grunted. + +"Turn about is fair play. How is _your_ leg, major?" asked Steve. + +The major glared at him. "Is it that I must put up with the insolence of +this scoundrel, general?" he demanded. + +"Not for long," replied Culvera suavely. "Pedro Cabenza, or Yeager, or +whatever you call yourself, you have been tried for rebellion, +insubordination, and conspiracy to kill General Pasquale. You have been +sentenced to be shot at sunset. The order of the military court will be +carried out as decreed." + +The cowpuncher took it without the twitching of a muscle in the brown +face. He knew there was no use of an appeal for mercy and he made none. + +"So I've been tried and convicted without even being present. Fine +business. I reckon you've got an explanation handy when Uncle Sam comes +asking whyfor you murdered an American citizen." + +Culvera lifted in mock surprise his eyebrows. "An American citizen! +Surely not. I execute Pedro Cabenza, a peon, enlisted in the Army of +the North, because he plotted with the foes of the Republic and helped +prisoners escape, and because he conspired to assassinate our glorious +chief, General Pasquale." Ramon put his forearm on the table and leaned +forward with an ironic smile. "But your point is well made, Pedro. Lies +spread on the wings of the wind. I shall forestall any slanderous +untruths by having a photograph taken of you before the execution, and +another of your body afterward. I thank you for the suggestion." + +Though it told against him the American knew this was a bull's-eye hit. +A photograph of him in his rags, with his serape and his ventilated +sombrero, face as brown as a berry, would be sufficient proof to +exonerate Culvera of the charge of having shot an American. Steve had +made up too well for the part. At worst Culvera could plead a +regrettable mistake. + +"You make out a good case against Pedro Cabenza, general," admitted the +condemned man evenly. "Good enough. We'll put him in the discard. I +suppose you won't deny that Threewit and Farrar and Miss Seymour are +Americans." + +With a confidential grin Ramon nodded. "You've put your finger on the +pulse of my difficulty. You see, I talk to you frankly because I have +the best of reasons for knowing you will never betray me. No doubt you +recall your proverb about dead men telling tales. Just so. Well, I don't +know what the devil to do with your friends Farrar and Threewit. I have +nothing against them, but if I send them home they will talk. Would it +be best, do you think, to arrange an accident for them while on the way +back to Arizona?" + +"Not at all. I'll make a written confession, and they can sign it as +witnesses, that I plotted against Pasquale and was implicated in his +murder. That will let you out nicely, general. Then you can send them +home, and the young lady in their care. So you will even scores with me +quite safely to yourself." + +The Mexican commander looked steadily out of the window at a dog +scratching himself in the street. "I don't recall mentioning the young +lady. Her future is arranged." + +The temples of the cowpuncher throbbed. He pretended to misunderstand +the meaning of the other man. "Of course. I understand that you can do +nothing else but send her home. The one thing that would bring our army +across the line on the jump would be for you to hurt a hair of this +girl's head. You could kill a dozen men and get away with it quicker +than you could to insult one little girl. But, of course, you know +that." + +The fingers of Culvera drummed absently on the table. "I think the +señorita and I will be able to adjust the matter without any help from +you. If you have any last messages for her I'll be glad to carry them, +since I expect to see her this evening." + +Steve had disdained to beg for himself, but now he begged for the girl +he loved. + +"You're a man, Ramon Culvera. Nobody ever claimed there is any yellow in +you. Your father was a gentleman and so is his son. You fight with men +and not with timid girls. You wouldn't do this girl dirt because she is +alone and has no friends near. Think of your own sisters, man." + +Ochampa moved restlessly in his chair. "We had better send the girl +home. She will bring us trouble else." + +His superior officer flashed a quick look at him. "That is a bridge we +shall cross when we come to it. Meanwhile I say adios, Señor Yeager. +Shall I send you the padre?" + +"Thanks, no! But remember this. You stake your whole future on the +treatment you give Miss Seymour. If you don't play fair with her, you +lose." + +Ramon clapped his hands three times. A soldier entered the room. + +"Take the Gringo back to his prison," ordered Culvera. + +"The order stands, general? At sunset?" asked the man. + +"It stands," assented Ramon; and turned to Ochampa: "Have you agreed on +a price for that bunch of cattle with the Flying D rustlers, major?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +CULVERA RECONSIDERS + + +Spurred by Daisy Ellington, the star of the border Lunar Company had +kept the wires hot with messages to "the old man" in New York. To do him +justice the president of the company rose to the occasion as soon as it +was impressed upon his mind that Threewit and the others were in serious +danger. He telegraphed for Lennox to meet him in Washington and hurried +to the Capitol himself to lay the case before the senior Senator from +New York, a statesman who happened to be under political obligations to +him. + +The Arizona congressional delegation was called into conference and an +appointment made to meet the President of the United States. As soon as +Lennox reached the city, he was hurried to the White House, where he +told the story before the President and the Secretary of State. + +The case called for prompt action. Instructions were wired to Captain +Girard, stationed with his company at Bisbee, Arizona, to act as a +special envoy from the President to General Pasquale. + +Girard, with a corporal, two saddle-horses, and a pack-horse, entrained +at once. Four hours later he was dropped at a tank station, from which +point he and the corporal struck straight into the barren desert. The +glare of the afternoon sun was slanting down upon them when they +started. Their shadows grew longer as they rode. The sun, a ball of +fire, dropped below the distant horizon edge and left a sky of wonder to +drive a painter to despair. + +The gold and crimson and purple softened as the minutes passed. The +distant ridges were no longer flamed with edgings of fire. A deep purple +predominated and was lightened presently to a velvet violet haze. Then +the stars came out, close and cold and innumerable. + +Still Girard rode, taking advantage of the cool breath of night. Toward +morning he stopped at a sand-wash where three or four dusty cottonwoods +relieved the vegetation of mesquite, palo verde, and cacti. Among the +rocks a spring rose hesitant to the surface and struggled faintly for +life against the palpitating heat and thirsty drought of the desert. + +The corporal hobbled the horses. The men stretched themselves in the +sand and fell into deep sleep. It was noon when they awoke. They ate, +lounged in such shade as the cottonwoods offered from the quivering +heat, and waited till mid-afternoon. Having saddled and repacked, they +struck again across the dreary roll of sandhills and washes. When Noche +Buena lay at their feet the sun was low in the sky. + +Into the dusty main street of the village the two men rode at a walk. A +sentinel with a rifle stopped them. Girard explained that he wanted to +see Pasquale. + +"He is dead--shot by a Gringo who has gone to hell already. And another +Gringo will be shot when the sun falls below the hills, and perhaps +another to-morrow. Who knows? You, too, may pay for the death of the +Liberator," jeered the sentry. + +"Pasquale dead--and shot by an American?" asked the captain in surprise. + +"As I have said. But General Culvera killed the dog in his tracks. Ho, +Manuel! Call an officer. A Gringo wants to see the general," he shouted +to a barefoot trooper crouched in the shade of an adobe house. + +Girard explained to the officer that he was a messenger from the +President of the United States. He and the corporal were searched and +their arms removed. + +The Mexican officer apologized. "Since Pasquale was murdered, we take no +chances," he explained. "You understand I do not at all doubt you are +what you say. But we search all strangers to make sure." + +After Culvera had glanced over the credentials of Girard, he was all +suavity. "I offer you a hundred welcomes; first for yourself, as an +officer of the army of our sister Republic, and second as an envoy from +your President, for whom I have a most profound respect. But not a word +of your mission until we have dined. You will want first of all a bath +after your long dusty trip. May I offer you my own quarters for the +present till arrangements can be made?" + +Captain Girard bowed. "You are very kind, general. Believe me, I +appreciate your courtesy. But first I must raise one point. I have been +told that an American is to be executed at sunset, which is almost +immediately. You will understand that as a representative of the United +States it is necessary that I should investigate the facts." + +Swiftly Culvera considered. If the American officer had arrived an hour +later, Yeager would have been safely out of the way. How had he +discovered already that an American was to be shot? Was it worth while +denying it? But what if Girard insisted on seeing the execution? What if +he asked to see Yeager? Ramon's glance swept the obstinate face of the +captain. He decided it better to acknowledge the truth. + +"It is to me a matter of profound regret," he sighed. "The man enlisted +in our army as a spy, disguised as a peon. He is guilty of the murder +of one of our men in a gambling-house. He attempted to kill General +Pasquale a short time ago. He was undoubtedly in league with the man +Holcomb, the assassin of our great general. He shot Major Ochampa, but +fortunately the major is recovering. The man is a border ruffian of the +worst stamp." + +"May I talk with him, general?" + +"But certainly--if the man is still living," assented the Mexican. + +The American officer looked straight at Ramon. His steady eyes made no +accusation, mirrored no suspicion. Culvera could not tell what he was +thinking. But he recognized resentfully a compulsion in them that he +could not safely ignore. + +"With your permission I should like to talk also with Miss Seymour and +the two moving-picture men," said Captain Girard. + +The Mexican adventurer announced a decision he had come to that very +instant, one to which the inconvenient arrival of the envoy from the +President of the United States had driven him. + +"I am making arrangements to have them all three taken safely back to +Arixico. Between you and me, captain, old Pasquale was something of a +savage. It is my purpose to win and hold the friendship of the United +States. I don't underestimate Pasquale. He was my friend and chief. He +made a free Mexico possible. But he was primitive. He did not understand +international relations. He treated the citizens of your great country +according to his whims. That was a mistake. I shall so act as to win the +approval of your great President." + +"I am very glad to hear that. The surest foundation upon which you can +build for a free Mexico is justice for all, general. And now, if I may +see Yeager." + +A messenger was sent to bring the prisoner. He found an officer with a +firing party already crossing the plaza to the place of execution. The +prisoner was bareheaded, ragged, unkempt. His arms were tied by the +elbows behind his back. But the spirit of the unbeaten spoke in his eyes +and trod in his limping step. + +"The general wishes to see the prisoner," explained the messenger to the +officer. + +The party wheeled at a right angle, toward the headquarters of Culvera. + +Steve thought he understood what this meant. Culvera had sent for him to +gloat over him, to taunt him. The man wanted to hear him beg for his +life. The teeth of the cowpuncher clenched tightly till the muscles of +the jaw stood out like ropes. He would show this man that an American +did not face a firing squad with a whine. + +At sight of the captain of cavalry sitting beside Culvera the heart of +Yeager leaped. The long arm of Uncle Sam had reached across the border +in the person of this competent West Pointer. It meant salvation for +Ruth, for his friends, possibly even for himself. + +"Captain Girard wants to ask you a few questions," Culvera explained. + +Without waiting for questions Yeager spoke. "Do you know that an +American girl is held prisoner here, captain,--that Pasquale was driving +her to a forced marriage when Holcomb shot him to save her?" + +Girard turned toward the general, a question in his eyes. + +Ramon shrugged his shoulders. "I told you Pasquale was a barbarian. The +trouble is he was a peon. He took what he wanted." + +"Her name is Ruth Seymour. She's a fine girl, captain. You'll save her, +of course, and see that she gets home," continued Steve. + +"I have the promise of General Culvera to see her and your friends safe +to Arixico," replied Girard. + +"You'll ride with them yourself all the way," urged the prisoner. + +"No doubt. But, of course, the word of General Culvera--" + +"--Is worth what it is worth," Yeager finished for him. + +"The man stands in the shadow of death. Let him say what he likes," said +the Mexican contemptuously to the officer beside him. + +"You are charged with being a spy, Mr. Yeager. I am told you were +captured in disguise after having plotted to help prisoners escape," +said Girard. + +Yeager nodded quietly. "Technically I am a spy. I came here to try to +save Miss Seymour and my friends. The attempt failed and I was +captured." + +"Are you a spy in the sense that you were in the employ of the enemies +of General Pasquale and his armies?" + +"No. Culvera understands that perfectly well. I came only to look out +for my friends." + +Girard knew what manner of man Yeager was. He intended to save his life +if it could be done. This would be possible only if Culvera could be +made to feel that it would cost too much to punish him. + +"It is claimed that you attempted the life of General Pasquale once." + +"Nothing to that. I was a prisoner, condemned to be shot in the morning. +He came to my cell and offered me my life if I would knife Culvera in +the back. I couldn't see the proposition. But I got a chance, knocked +him down, tied him up, and slipped out in his serape. Then I made my +getaway on the horse he had left for me in case I came through with the +knifing." + +Instantly Culvera knew the story to be true. It cannot be said that he +was grateful to Yeager, but the edge of his resentment against him was +dulled. + +"Sounds like a plausible story, doesn't it?" he suggested ironically. +"Why should Pasquale want the death of his friend, his lieutenant, the +man who was closest to him among all his followers?" + +"Send for Juan Garcia. He was on sentry duty that night. Ask him as to +the facts," the cowpuncher proposed. + +Girard turned to his host and spoke to him in a low voice. "General, +this man has a good reputation at home. He has a host of friends in +Arizona. I believe he is speaking the truth. Perhaps General Pasquale +may have been too hasty. Let us send for all the witnesses and make a +thorough investigation of the charges against him. I shall be called to +Washington after I have wired my report. The President, no doubt, will +question me. Make it possible for me to tell him that under the rule of +General Culvera a régime begins that is founded on justice for all." + +Culvera was far from a fool. He had lived in the United States and +understood something of the temper of its people. The fall of Huerta +was potent proof that no ruler could survive in Mexico if the +Government at Washington was set in opposition to him. After all, the +life of Yeager was only a small matter. Why not use him as a pawn in the +game to win the approval of the big Republic to the north? + +With his most engaging smile Ramon offered his hand to Captain Girard. +"You are right. Pasquale was a child, a creature of moods, of foolish +suspicions and tempestuous passions. Perhaps this man tells the truth. +It may be he has been condemned unjustly. You and I, my friend, shall +sit in judgment on him. If he be guilty, we shall condemn; if innocent, +acquit. Meanwhile I will remand him to prison and order the execution +postponed. Does that satisfy you, captain?" + +The American officer shook hands warmly. "General, it is a pleasure to +meet a man like you. Mexico is fortunate in having such a son." + +Culvera beamed. "Gracias. And now, captain, first a bath, then dinner. +Afterwards you shall talk with the moving-picture men." He turned +affably to Yeager. "I shall give orders that you be given a good dinner +to-night. To-morrow we shall pass judgment on you." + +Steve nodded to the West Pointer. "Much obliged, captain." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +AS LONG AS LIFE + + +Breakfast was served to Yeager next morning by a guard who either knew +nothing or would tell nothing of what was going on in the camp. After he +had eaten, nobody came near the prisoner for hours. Through the barred +window he could see a sentry pacing up and down or squatting in the +shade of the deserted building opposite. No other sign of human life +reached him. + +His nerves were keyed to a high tension. Culvera was an opportunist. +Perhaps something had occurred to make him change his mind. Perhaps he +had decided, after all, not to play for the approval of the United +States. In revolutionary Mexico much can happen in a few hours. + +Steve was a man of action. It did not suit his temperament to sit cooped +up in a prison while things were being done that affected the happiness +of Ruth and his own life. He tried to persuade himself that all was +going well, but as the fever of his anxiety mounted, he found himself +limping up and down the short beat allowed him from wall to wall. + +It was noon before he was taken from his cell. Steve counted it a good +augury that a saddle horse was waiting for him to ride. Last night he +had limped across the plaza on his wounded leg. + +He and his little procession of guards cut straight across to +headquarters. Culvera sat on the porch smoking a cigarette. He was +dressed immaculately in a suit of white linen with a blue sash. His +gold-trimmed sombrero was a work of art. + +At sight of Yeager the Mexican general smiled blandly. + +"Are you ready to take a long journey, Señor Yeager?" he asked. + +The heart of the cowpuncher lost a beat, but he did not bat an eye. +"What journey? The same one that Holcomb took?" he demanded bluntly. + +Culvera showed a face of pained surprise. "Am I a barbarian? Do you +think me another Pasquale? No, no, señor. You and I have had our +disagreements. But they are past. To tell the truth, I always did like +the way you see a thing through to a fighting finish. Now that I know +you are not the ruffian I had been led to think you, it is a pleasure to +me to tell you that you have been tried and acquitted. I offer regrets +for the inconvenience to which you have been put. You will pardon, is it +not so, and do me the honor to dine with me before you leave?" + +The heels of the Mexican came together, he bowed, and offered a hand to +the range-rider. + +"Just one moment, general. All that listens fine to me, but--what are +the conditions?" + +Ramon made a gesture of regret at being so sadly misunderstood. +"Conditions! There are none." + +"None at all?" + +"None. Is it that you think me a peddler instead of a gentleman?" The +face of the young Mexican expressed sorrow rather than anger. + +Still Steve doubted. "Let's understand each other, general. Are you +telling me that I can walk out of that door, climb into a saddle, and +keep going till I get back into old Arizona?" + +"I tell you that--and more. You will be furnished an escort to see you +safely across the line. You may choose your own guard if you doubt." + +"And my friends?" + +"They go, too, of course." + +"All of them?" + +The Mexican smiled. "You're the most suspicious man I ever knew. All of +them, Señor Yeager." + +"Including Miss Seymour?" The range-rider spoke quietly, but his eyes +were like swords. + +"Naturally she will not wish to stay here when her friends leave." + +Steve leaned against the porch post with a deep breath of relaxation. +"If I'm sleeping, don't let any one wake me, general," he implored, +smiling for the first time. + +"I confess your amazement surprises me," said Culvera suavely. "Did you +think all Mexicans were like Pasquale? He was a great man, but he was a +savage. Also, he was a child at statecraft. I used to warn him to +coöperate with the United States if he wished to succeed. But he was +ignorant and eaten up with egotism." + +"You're right he was, general." + +"A new policy is now in operation. In freeing you I ask only that you +set me and my army right with your people. Let them understand that we +stand for a free Mexico and for justice." + +The hands of the two men gripped. + +"I'll sure do my share, general." + +"We're to have a little luncheon before you go. Captain Girard and your +friends are to be my guests. You will join us; not so?" + +"Gracias, general. Count me in." + +The black eyes of the Mexican twinkled. "Your wound--does it greatly +trouble you, señor?" + +"Some. When I walk." + +"Too bad. I was going to ask you to step upstairs and tell Señorita +Seymour that General Culvera will be delighted to have her join us at +luncheon. But, of course, since your leg troubles you--" + +"It's a heap better already, general. You're giving me good medicine." + +"Ah! I think you know the lady's room. But perhaps I had better call a +peon." + +The eyes of the cowpuncher were bright. "Now, don't you, general. Keep +on talking and you're liable to spoil what you've said," answered Steve +with his old gay laugh. + +He hobbled out of the room and up the stairs. + +The door of Ruth's room was open. She sat huddled in a chair looking +straight before her. There were shadows under her young eyes that never +should have been there. Her lissome figure had lost its gallantry, the +fine poise that had given her a note of wild freedom. Steve had come up +so quietly that she evidently had not heard, for she did not turn her +weary head to see who it was. + +He stood a moment, hesitating on the threshold. She sat without moving, +a pathetic picture of despair and grief. A man had died for her +yesterday. Another man was to die to-day because he had tried to save +her. She herself was in danger still. The tragedy of life had carried +her beyond tears. + +When he moved forward a step she turned. Her lips parted in surprise. +The dark eyes under her tumbled, blue-black hair stared in astonishment. +Slowly she rose, never lifting her gaze from him. With a little cry of +wonder she stretched her arms toward this man who had come to her as if +from the dead. + +In two strides he reached her and swept the girl into his arms. He +kissed the tired eyes, the tousled hair, the soft cheeks into which the +color began to flow. She clung to him, afraid to let him go, uncertain +whether it was a reality. + +At last she spoke. "It _is_ you, isn't it? I thought ... they told +me ... that you...." + +He laughed softly with the joy of it all. "I'm free--free to go home +with you, Ruth,--back to God's country, to friends and life and love." + +"Are you going to take me, too?" she asked with naïve simplicity. + +"Is it likely I'd go without you? Yes, we're all going. Culvera has seen +the light. Soon all this will be like a nightmare from which we have +escaped. That's right, honey. Cry if you want to. Little girl, little +girl, how am I ever going to tell you how much I love you?" + +She wept with gladness and relief while he held her tightly in his arms +and promised to keep her against all harm as long as life lasted. + +And afterward, when smiles came again, they fell into the inarticulate +babblings that from the beginning of time have been the expression of +lovers. + +They forgot time, so that neither knew how long it had been before a +denim-clad soldier stood saluting in the doorway. + +Steve, over his shoulder, fired a question at the man. "What do you +want?" + +"The compliments of General Culvera, señor and señorita, and I was to +remind you that luncheon has been waiting twenty minutes." + +Steve and Ruth looked at each other and laughed. They went downstairs +hand in hand. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Steve Yeager, by William MacLeod Raine + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STEVE YEAGER *** + +***** This file should be named 19055-8.txt or 19055-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/0/5/19055/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Distributed Proofreading +Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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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: Steve Yeager + +Author: William MacLeod Raine + +Release Date: August 16, 2006 [EBook #19055] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STEVE YEAGER *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Distributed Proofreading +Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<table width="450" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" border="1"> + <col style="width:100%;" /> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <table width="90%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" border="0"> + <col style="width:100%;" /> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span style="font-size: 220%;"><br />STEVE YEAGER</span><br /><br /><br /><br /> + <span style="font-size: 80%;">BY</span><br /><br /> + <span style="font-size: 140%; font-variant: small-caps;">WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE</span> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <div class='figcenter' style='width: 100px; padding-top: 5em; padding-bottom: 6em;'> + <a name="illus-001" id="illus-001"></a> + <img src='images/emblem.png' alt='' title='' /> + </div> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align='center'> + <span style="font-size: 100%;">NEW YORK</span><br /> + <span style="font-size: 130%;">GROSSET & DUNLAP</span><br /> + <span style="font-size: 100%;">PUBLISHERS</span><br /><br /> + <span style="font-size: 70%;">Made in the United States of America</span><br /><br /> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + </td> + </tr> +</table> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p style='text-align:center; font-size: smaller;'>COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<div class='figcenter' style='width: 300px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="illus-002" id="illus-002"></a> +<img class='border' src='images/illus-fp.jpg' alt='' title='' width = '300' height = '457'/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Ruth</span> +</div> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2> +<div class="smcap"> +<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<col style="width:17%;" /> +<col style="width:3%;" /> +<col style="width:70%;" /> +<col style="width:10%;" /> +<tr><td align="right">I</td><td></td><td align="left">STEVE MAKES A MISTAKE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">II</td><td></td><td align="left">"ENOUGH'S A-PLENTY"</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">10</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">III</td><td></td><td align="left">CHAD HARRISON</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IV</td><td></td><td align="left">THE EXTRA</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">V</td><td></td><td align="left">YEAGER ASKS ADVICE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VI</td><td></td><td align="left">PLUCKING A PIGEON</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">56</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VII</td><td></td><td align="left">STEVE TELLS TOO MUCH TRUTH</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VIII</td><td></td><td align="left">THE HEAVY GETS HIS TIME</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">79</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IX</td><td></td><td align="left">GABRIEL PASQUALE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">X</td><td></td><td align="left">A NIGHT VISIT</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">96</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XI</td><td></td><td align="left">CHAD DECIDES TO GET BUSY</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XII</td><td></td><td align="left">INTO THE DESERT</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIII</td><td></td><td align="left">THE NIGHT TRAIL</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIV</td><td></td><td align="left">THE CAVE MEN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">140</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XV</td><td></td><td align="left">STEVE WINS A HAM SANDWICH</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVI</td><td></td><td align="left">THE HEAVY PAYS A DEBT</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">166</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVII</td><td></td><td align="left">PEDRO CABENZA</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVIII</td><td></td><td align="left">HARRISON OVERPLAYS HIS HAND</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">181</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIX</td><td></td><td align="left">THE TEXAN</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">194</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XX</td><td></td><td align="left">NEAR THE END OF HIS TRAIL</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">207</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXI</td><td></td><td align="left">A STAGE PREPARED FOR TRAGEDY</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">216</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXII</td><td></td><td align="left">A CONSPIRACY</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">223</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIII</td><td></td><td align="left">TRAPPED</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">229</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIV</td><td></td><td align="left">THE PRISONER</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">247</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXV</td><td></td><td align="left">THE TEXAN TAKES A LONG JOURNEY</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">257</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVI</td><td></td><td align="left">AT SUNSET</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">266</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVII</td><td></td><td align="left">CULVERA RECONSIDERS</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">274</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVIII</td><td></td><td align="left">AS LONG AS LIFE</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">284</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<hr class='major' /> + +<h1>Steve Yeager</h1> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">1</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2><h3>STEVE MAKES A MISTAKE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Steve Yeager held his bronco to a Spanish trot. Somewhere in front of +him, among the brown hill swells that rose and fell like waves of the +sea, lay Los Robles and breakfast. One solitary silver dollar, too +lonesome even to jingle, lay in his flatulent trouser pocket. After he +and Four Bits had eaten, two quarters would take the place of the big +cartwheel. Then would come dinner, a second transfer of capital, and his +pocket would be empty as a cow's stomach after a long drive.</p> + +<p>Being dead broke, according to the viewpoint of S. Yeager, is right and +fitting after a jaunt to town when one has a good job back in the hills. +But it happened he had no more job than a rabbit. Wherefore, to keep up +his spirits he chanted the endless metrical version of the adventures of +Sam Bass, who</p> + +<p style='padding-left: 3em'> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>"... started out to Texas a cowboy for to be,<br /></span> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>And a kinder-hearted fellow you scarcely ever'd see."<br /></span> +</p> + +<p>Steve had not quit his job. It had quit him. A few years earlier the +Lone Star Cattle Company<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">2</a></span> had reigned supreme in Dry Sandy Valley and +the territory tributary thereto. Its riders had been kings of the range. +That was before the tide of settlement had spilled into the valley, +before nesters had driven in their prairie schooners, homesteaded the +water-holes, and strung barb-wire fences across the range. Line-riders +and dry farmers and irrigators had pushed the cowpuncher to one side. +Sheep had come bleating across the desert to wage war upon the cattle. +Finally Uncle Sam had sliced off most of the acreage still left and +called it a forest reserve.</p> + +<p>Wherefore the Lone Star outfit had thrown up its hands, sold its +holdings, and moved to Los Angeles to live. Wherefore also Steve Yeager, +who did not know Darwin from a carburetor, had by process of evolution +been squeezed out of the occupation he had followed all of his +twenty-three years since he could hang on to a saddle-horn. He had +mournfully foreseen the end when the schoolhouse was built on Pine Knob +and little folks went down the road with their arms twined around the +waist of teacher. After grizzled Tim Sawyer made bowlegged tracks +straight for that schoolmarm and matrimony, his friends realized that +the joyous whoop of the puncher would not much longer be heard in the +land. The range-rider must dwindle to a farmer or get off the earth. +Steve was getting off the earth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span></p> + +<p>Since Steve was of the sunburnt State, still a boy, and by temperament +incurably optimistic, he sang cheerfully. He wanted to forget that he +had eaten neither supper nor breakfast. So he carried Mr. Bass through +many adventures till that genial bandit</p> + +<p style='padding-left: 3em'> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>"... sold out at Custer City and there got on a spree,<br /></span> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>And a tougher lot of cowboys you never'd hope to see."<br /></span> +</p> + +<p>Four Bits had topped a rise and followed the road down in its winding +descent. After the nomadic fashion of Arizona the trail circled around a +tongue of a foothill which here jutted out. Voices from just beyond the +bend startled Yeager. One of them was raised impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Won't do, Harrison. Be rougher. Throw her on her knees and tie her +hands."</p> + +<p>The itinerant road brought Steve in another moment within view. He saw a +girl picking poppies. Two men rode up and swung from their saddles. They +talked with her threateningly. She shrank back in fear. One of them +seized her wrists and threw her down.</p> + +<p>"Lively, now. Into the pit with her. Get the stuff across," urged a +short fat man with a cigar in his mouth who was standing ten or fifteen +yards back from the scene of action.</p> + +<p>Steve had put his horse at a gallop the moment the girl had been seized. +It struck him there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</a></span> was something queer about the affair,—something +not quite natural to which he could not put a name. But he did not stop +to reason out the situation. Dragging his pony to a slithering halt, he +leaped to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Get busy, Jackson. You ain't in a restaurant waiting for a meal," the +little fat man reminded one of his tools irritably. Then, as he caught +sight of Steve, "What the hell!"</p> + +<p>Yeager's left shot forward, all the weight and muscle of one hundred and +seventy pounds of live cowpuncher behind it. Villain Number One went to +the ground as if a battering-ram had hit him between the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Lay hands on a lady, will you?"</p> + +<p>Steve turned to Villain Number Two, who backed away rapidly in alarm.</p> + +<p>"What's eatin' you? We ain't hurtin' her any, you mutt."</p> + +<p>The girl, still crouched on the ground, turned with a nervous little +laugh to the man who had been directing operations:—</p> + +<p>"What d'you know about that, Billie? The rube swallowed it all. You +gotta raise my salary."</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher felt in the pit of his stomach the same sensation he had +known when an elevator in Denver had dropped beneath his feet too +suddenly. The young woman was rouged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span> and painted to the ears. Never in +its palmiest days had the 'Dobe Dollar's mirrors reflected a costume +more gaudy than the one she was wearing. The men too were painted and +dolled up extravagantly in vaqueros' costumes that were the limit of +absurdity. Had they all escaped from a madhouse? Or was he, Steve +Yeager, in a pipe-dream?</p> + +<p>From a near grove of cottonwoods half a dozen men in chaps came running. +Assured of their proximity, the fat little fellow pawed the air with +rage.</p> + +<p>"Ever see such rotten luck? Spoiled the whole scene. Say, you Rip Van +Winkle, think we came out here for the ozone?"</p> + +<p>One of the men joined the young woman, who was assisting the villain +Yeager had knocked out. The others crowded around him in excitement, all +expostulating at once. They were dressed wonderfully and amazingly as +cowpunchers, but they were painted frauds in spite of the careful +ostentation of their costumes. Steve's shiny leathers and dusty hat +missed the picturesque, but he looked indigenous and they did not. He +was at his restful ease, this slender, brown man, negligent, careless, +eyes twinkling but alert. The brand of the West was stamped indelibly on +him.</p> + +<p>"I ce'tainly must 'a' spilled the beans. Looks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span> like I done barked up +the wrong tree," he drawled amiably.</p> + +<p>A man who had been standing on a box behind some kind of a masked +battery jumped down and joined the group.</p> + +<p>"Gee! I've got a bully picture of our anxious friend laying out +Harrison. Nothing phony about that, Threewit. Won't go in this reel, but +she'll make a humdinger in some other. Say, didn't Harrison hit the dust +fine! Funny you lads can't ever pull off a fall like that."</p> + +<p>An annoyed voice, both raucous and sneering, interrupted his enthusiasm. +"Just stick around, Mr. Camera Man, and you'll get a chance to do +another bit of real life that ain't faked. I'm goin' to hammer the head +off Buttinski presently."</p> + +<p>The camera man, an alert, boyish fellow as thin as a lath, turned and +grinned. Harrison was sitting up a little unsteadily. Burning black +eyes, set in sockets of extraordinary depths, blazed from a face +sinister enough to justify Steve's impression of him as a villain. The +shoulders of the man were very broad and set with the gorilla hunch; he +was deep-chested and lean-loined. His eyes shifted with a quick, furtive +menace. His companions might be imitation cowpunchers, but if Yeager was +any judge this was no imitation bad man.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span></p> + +<p>"Going to eat him alive, are you?" the camera man wanted to know +pleasantly.</p> + +<p>Steve pushed through to Harrison. A whimsical little smile of apology +crinkled the boyish face.</p> + +<p>"It's on me, compadre. I'm a rube, and anything else you like. And I +sure am sorry for going off half-cocked."</p> + +<p>A wintry frost was in the jet bead eyes that looked up at the puncher. +The sitting man did not recognize the extended hand.</p> + +<p>"You'll be a heap sorrier before I'm through with you," he growled. "I'm +goin' to beat your head off and learn you to mind your own business."</p> + +<p>"Interesting if true," retorted Steve lightly. "And maybeso you're +right. A man can't always most likely tell. Take a watermelon now. You +can't tell how good it is till you thump it. Same way with a man, I've +heard say."</p> + +<p>He turned to the young woman, whose bright brown eyes were lingering +upon him curiously. This was no novel experience to him. He wore his +splendid youth so jauntily and yet so casually that the gaze of a girl +was likely to be drawn in his direction a second and a third time. In +spite of his youthfulness there was in his face a certain +sun-and-wind-bitten maturity, a steadiness of the quiet eye that +promised efficiency. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span> film actress sensed the same competent +strength in the brown, untorn hand that assisted her to rise to her +feet. His friendly smile showed the flash of white, regular teeth.</p> + +<p>"The rube apologizes, ma'am. He's just in from Cactus Center and never +did see one of those moving-picture outfits before. Thirty-eleven things +were in sight as I happened round that bend, but the only one I glimmed +was you being mistreated. Corking chance for a grandstand play. So I +sailed in pronto. 'Course I should've known better, but I didn't."</p> + +<p>Maisie Winters was the name of the young woman. She played the leads in +one of the Southwest companies of the Lunar Film Manufacturers. Her +charming face was known and liked on the screens of several continents. +Now it broke into lines of mischievous amusement.</p> + +<p>"I don't mind if Mr. Harrison doesn't." She flashed a gay, inquiring +look toward that discomfited villain, who was leaning for support on his +accomplice Jackson and glaring at Yeager. Impudently she tilted her chin +back toward the puncher. "Are you always so—so impetuous? If so, +there's a fortune waiting for you in the moving-picture field."</p> + +<p>Yeager did not object to having so attractive a young woman as this one +poke fun at him. He grinned joyfully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span></p> + +<p>"Me! I'm open to an engagement, ma'am."</p> + +<p>The short fat man whom Maisie Winters had called Billie looked sharply +at the cowpuncher out of shrewd gray eyes.</p> + +<p>"Where you been working?" he demanded abruptly.</p> + +<p>"With the Lone Star outfit."</p> + +<p>"Get fired?"</p> + +<p>"Company gone out of business—country getting too popular, what with +homesteaders, forest rangers, and Mary's little lamb," explained Steve.</p> + +<p>"Hm! Can you ride a bucker?"</p> + +<p>"I can pull leather and kinder stick on."</p> + +<p>"I'll try you out for a week at two-fifty a day if you like."</p> + +<p>"You've hired Steve Yeager," promptly announced the owner of that name.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2><h3>"ENOUGH'S A-PLENTY"</h3> +</div> + +<p>While driving his car back to Los Robles, Billie Threewit, producing +director at the border studio of the Lunar Film Manufacturers, indulged +in caustic comment on his own idiocy.</p> + +<p>"Now, what in hell did I take on this Yeager rube for? He had just +finished crabbing one scene. Wasn't that enough without me paying him +good money to spoil more? Harrison's sore on him too. There's going to +be trouble there. He ain't going to stand for that roughhouse stuff a +little bit."</p> + +<p>Frank Farrar, the camera man, took a more cheerful view of the +situation.</p> + +<p>"He's a find, if you ask me—the real thing in cowpunchers. And I don't +know as this outfit has to be run to please Harrison. The big bully has +got us all stepping sideways and tiptoeing so as not to offend him. I'm +about fed up with the brute. Wish this rube would mop the earth up with +him when Harrison gets gay."</p> + +<p>"No chance. Harrison's a bully all right, but he's one grand little +fighter too. You saw him clean up that bunch of greasers. He's there +with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span> both feet on the Marquis of Q. business, and don't you forget it. +I put up with more from him than I ever did from a dozen other actors +because he's so mean when he's sulky."</p> + +<p>"Here too," agreed Farrar. "It's take your hat off when you speak to Mr. +Chad Harrison. I can't yell at him that he's getting out of the picture; +I've got to pull the Alphonse line of talk.—'Mr. Harrison, if you'd be +so kind as to get that left hind hoof of yours six inches more to the +right.' He makes me good and weary."</p> + +<p>"He gets his stuff across good. Wasn't for that I wouldn't stand for him +a minute. But we're down here, son, to get this three-reel Mexican war +dope. As long as Harrison delivers the goods we'll have to put up with +him."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going to give this Yeager lad a tip what he's up against. +Then if he wants to he can light out before Harrison gets to him."</p> + +<p>Farrar was as good as his word. As soon as he reached the hotel he +dropped around to the room where the new extra was staying. His knock +brought no answer, but as the door was ajar the camera man stepped +across the threshold.</p> + +<p>Steve lay on the bed asleep, his lithe, compact figure stretched at +negligent ease. The flannel shirt was open at the throat, the strong +muscles of which sloped beautifully into the splendid shoulders. There +was strength in the clean-cut<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span> jaw of the brown face. It was an easy +guess that he had wandered by paths crooked as well as straight, that he +had taken the loose pleasures of his kind joyously. But when he had +followed forbidden trails it had been from the sheer youthful exuberance +of life in him and not from weakness. Farrar judged that the heart of +the young vagabond was sound, that the desert winds and suns had kept +his head washed clean of shameful thoughts.</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher opened his eyes. He looked at his visitor without +speaking.</p> + +<p>"Didn't expect to find you asleep," apologized the camera man.</p> + +<p>Yeager got up and stretched his supple body in a yawn. "That's all +right. Just making up the sleep I lost last night on the road. No matter +a-tall."</p> + +<p>He was in blue overalls, the worn shiny chaps tossed across the back of +a chair. On the table lay the dusty, pinched-in hat, through the +disreputable crown of which Farrar had lately seen a lock of his brindle +hair rising like an aigrette.</p> + +<p>"Glad to have you join us. We need riders like you. Say, it was worth +five dollars to me to see the way you laid out Harrison."</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher's boyish face clouded.</p> + +<p>"I'm right sorry about that. It ce'tainly was a fool play. I don't blame +Harrison for getting sore."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span></p> + +<p>"He's sore all right. That's what I came to see you about. He's a rowdy, +Harrison is. And he'll make you trouble."</p> + +<p>"Most generally I don't pack a gun," Yeager observed casually.</p> + +<p>"It won't be a gun play; not to start with, anyhow. He used to be a +prizefighter. He'll beat you up."</p> + +<p>"Well, it don't hurt a man's system to absorb a licking once in a blue +moon."</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher said it smilingly, with a manner of negligent competence +that came from an experience of many dangers faced, of many perilous +ways safely trodden.</p> + +<p>Farrar had not yet quite discharged his mind. "There's nothing to +prevent you from slipping round to the stable and pulling your freight +quietly."</p> + +<p>"Except that I don't want to," added the new extra. "No, sir. I've got a +job and I'm staying with it. I'll sit here like a horned toad till the +boss gives me my time."</p> + +<p>The camera man beamed. To meet so debonair and care-free a specimen of +humanity warmed the cockles of his heart.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet you're some scrapper yourself," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. He'll lick me, I reckon. Say, what do they hold you up for at +this hacienda?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span></p> + +<p>The lank camera man supplied information, adding that he knew of a good +cheap boarding-place where one or two of the company put up.</p> + +<p>"If you say so, I'll take you right round there."</p> + +<p>Yeager reached promptly for his hat. "You talk like a dollar's worth of +nickels rattling out of a slot machine—right straight to the point."</p> + +<p>They walked together down the white, dusty street, crossed the outskirts +of the old Mexican adobe town, and came to a suburb of bungalows. In +front of one of these Farrar stopped. He unlatched the gate.</p> + +<p>"Here we are."</p> + +<p>There was an old-fashioned garden of roses and mignonettes and +hollyhocks, with crimson ramblers rioting over the wire trellis in front +of the broad porch. A girl with soft, thick, blue-black hair was bending +over a rosebush. She was snipping dead shoots with a pair of scissors. +At the sound of their feet crunching the gravel of the walk, her slender +figure straightened and she turned to them. The ripe lips parted above +pearly teeth in a smile of welcome to the camera man.</p> + +<p>"I've come begging again, Miss Ruth," explained Farrar. "This is Mr. +Yeager, a new member of our company. He wants to find a good +boarding-place, so of course I thought of your mother. Don't tell me +that you can't take him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span></p> + +<p>A little frown of doubt furrowed her forehead. "I don't know, Mr. +Farrar. Our tables are about full. I'll ask mother."</p> + +<p>The eyes of the girl rested for an instant on the brown-faced youth +whose application the camera man was backing. He had taken off his hat, +and the sun-pour was on his tawny hair, on the lean, bronzed face and +broad, muscular shoulders. In his torn, discolored hat, his stained and +travel-worn clothes, he looked a very prince of tramps. But in his +quiet, steady gaze was the dynamic spark of self-respect that forebade +her to judge him by his garb.</p> + +<p>A faint flush burned in the dusky cheeks to which the long lashes +drooped because of a touch of embarrassment. He had seemed to read her +hesitation with an inner amusement that found expression in his +gray-blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Tell her I'll be much obliged if she'll take me," Yeager said in his +gentle drawl.</p> + +<p>Considering his request, she stripped the gauntlet without purpose from +one of her little brown hands. A solitaire sparkled on the third finger. +Again she murmured, "I'll ask mother"; then turned and flashed up the +steps, her slender limbs carrying with fluent grace the pliant young +body.</p> + +<p>Presently appeared on the porch a plump, matronly woman of a wholesome +cleanness without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span> and within. Judging by fugitive dabs of flour which +decorated her temple and her forehead, she had been making bread or pies +at the time she had been called by her daughter. Much of her life she +had lived in the Southwest, and one glance at Yeager was enough to +satisfy her. Through the dust and tarnished clothes of him youth shone +resplendent. The sun was still in his brindle hair, in his gay eyes. She +had a boy of her own, and the heart of her warmed to him.</p> + +<p>In five sentences they had come to an arrangement. The barn behind the +house had been remodeled so that it contained several bedrooms. Into one +of these Yeager was to move his scant effects at once.</p> + +<p>He and Farrar walked back to the hotel together. Harrison was waiting +for them on the porch. As soon as he caught sight of the cowpuncher he +strode forward. The straight line of his set mouth looked like a gash in +a melon.</p> + +<p>"Will you have it here or back of the garage?" he demanded, getting +straight to business.</p> + +<p>"Any place that suits you," agreed Steve affably. "Won't the bulls pinch +us if we do a roughhouse here?"</p> + +<p>Harrison turned with triumphant malice to Farrar.</p> + +<p>"Get your camera. You say you don't like phony stuff. Good enough. I'll +pull off the real<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span> goods for you in licking a rube. There's plenty of +room back of the garage."</p> + +<p>The camera man protested. "See here, Harrison. Yeager ain't looking for +trouble. He told you he was sorry. It was an accident. What's the use of +bearing a grudge?"</p> + +<p>The heavy glared at him. "You in this, Mr. Farrar? You're liable to have +a heluvatime if you butt into my business without an invite. Shack—and +git that camera."</p> + +<p>Yeager nodded to his new friend. "Go ahead and get it. We'll be waiting +back of the garage."</p> + +<p>Farrar hesitated, the professional instinct in him awake and active.</p> + +<p>"If you're dead keen on a mix-up, Harrison, why not come over to the +studio where I can get the best light? We'll make an indoor set of it."</p> + +<p>"Go you," promptly agreed Harrison. His vanity craved a picture of him +thrashing the extra, a good one that the public could see and that he +could afterwards gloat over himself.</p> + +<p>Yeager laughed in his slow way. "I'm to be massa-creed to make a Roman +holiday, am I? All right. Might as well begin earning that two-fifty per +I've been promised."</p> + +<p>The news spread, as if on the wings of the wind. Before Farrar had a +stage arranged to suit him and his camera ready, a dozen members<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span> of the +company drifted in with a casual manner of having arrived accidentally. +Fleming Lennox, leading man, appeared with Cliff Manderson, chief +comedian for the Lunar border company. Baldy Cummings, the property man, +strolled leisurely in to look over some costumes. But Steve observed +that he was panting rapidly.</p> + +<p>As he sat on a soap box waiting for Farrar to finish his preparations, +Yeager became aware that Lennox was watching him closely. He did not +know that the leading man would cheerfully have sacrificed a week's +salary to see Harrison get the trimming he needed. The handsome young +film actor was an athlete, a trained boxer, but the ex-prizefighter had +given him the thrashing of his life two months before. He simply had +lacked the physical stamina to weather the blows that came from those +long, gorilla-like arms with the weight of the heavy, rounded shoulders +back of them. The fight had not lasted five minutes.</p> + +<p>"Shapes well," murmured Manderson, nodding toward the new extra.</p> + +<p>The leading man agreed without much hope. He conceded the boyish +cowpuncher a beautiful trim figure, with breadth of shoulder, grace of +poise, and long, flowing muscles that rippled under the healthy skin +like those of a panther in motion. But these would serve him little +unless he was an experienced boxer. Harrison had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> tremendous strength +and power; moreover, he knew the game from years of battle in the ring.</p> + +<p>"He'll lose—won't be able to stand the gaff," Lennox replied gloomily, +his eyes fixed on Yeager as the young fellow rose lightly and moved +forward to meet his opponent.</p> + +<p>The extra was as tall as Harrison, but he looked like a boy beside him, +so large and massive did the heavy bulk. The contrast between them was +so great that Yeager was scarcely conceded a fighting chance. Steve +himself knew quite well that he was in for a licking at the hands of +this wall-eyed Hercules with the leathery brown face.</p> + +<p>He got it, efficiently and scientifically, but not before Harrison had +found out he was in a fight. The big man disdained any defense except +that which went naturally with his crouch. He had a tremendously long +reach and knew how to get the weight of his shoulders behind his +punishing blows. Usually Harrison did all the fighting. The other man +was at the receiving end.</p> + +<p>It was a little different this time. Yeager met his first rush with a +straight left that got home and jarred the prizefighter to his heels. To +see the look on the face of the heavy, compound of blank astonishment +and chagrin, was worth the price of admission.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span></p> + +<p>Lennox sang out encouragement. "Good boy. Go to him."</p> + +<p>Harrison put his head down and rushed. His arms worked like flails. They +beat upon Steve's body and face as a hammer does upon an anvil. Only by +his catlike agility and the toughness born of many clean years in the +saddle did the cowpuncher weather for the time the hurricane that lashed +at him. He dodged and ducked and parried by instinct, smothering what +blows he could, evading those he might, absorbing the ones he must. Out +of that first mêlée he came reeling and dizzy, quartering round and +round before the panting professional.</p> + +<p>The bully enraged was not a sight pleasant to see. He was too near akin +to the primeval brute. He glared savagely at his victim, who grinned +back at him with an indomitable jauntiness.</p> + +<p>"This is the life," the cowpuncher assured his foe cheerfully after +dodging a blow that was like the kick of a mule.</p> + +<p>Harrison rocked him with a short stiff uppercut. "Glad you like it," he +jeered.</p> + +<p>Yeager crossed with his right, catching him flush on the cheek. "Here's +your receipt for the same," he beamed.</p> + +<p>Like a wild bull the prizefighter was at him again. He beat down the +cowpuncher's defense<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span> and mauled him savagely with all the punishing +skill of his craft. Steve was a man of his hands. He had held his own in +many a rough-and-tumble bout. But he had no science except that which +nature had given him. As long as a man could, he stood up to Harrison's +trained skill. When at last he was battered to the ground it was because +the strength had all oozed out of him.</p> + +<p>Harrison stood over him, swaggering. "Had enough?"</p> + +<p>Where he had been flung, against one of the studio walls, Steve sat +dizzily, his head reeling. He saw things through a mist in a queer jerky +way. But still a smile beamed on his disfigured face.</p> + +<p>"Surest thing you know."</p> + +<p>"Don't want some more of the same?" jeered the victor.</p> + +<p>"Didn't hear me ask for more, did you? No, an' you won't either. Me, I +love a scrap, but I don't yearn for no encore after I've been clawed by +a panther and chewed up by a threshing-machine and kicked by an +able-bodied mule into the middle o' next week. Enough's a-plenty, as old +Jim Butts said when his second wife died."</p> + +<p>The prizefighter looked vindictively down at him. He was not satisfied, +though he had given the range-rider such a whaling as few men could +stand up and take. For the conviction was sifting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> home to him that he +had not beaten the man at all. His pile-driver blows had hammered down +his body, but the spirit of him shone dauntless out of the gay, +unconquerable eyes.</p> + +<p>With a sullen oath Harrison turned away. His sulky glance fell upon +Lennox, who was clapping his hands softly.</p> + +<p>"You'd be one grand little fighter, Yeager, if you only knew how," the +leading man said with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe you'd like to teach him, Mr. Lennox," sneered Harrison.</p> + +<p>The star flushed. "Maybe I would, Mr. Harrison."</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps you'd rather show him how it's done."</p> + +<p>Lennox looked, straight at him. "Nothing doing. And I serve notice right +here that I'll have no more trouble with you. If it's got to come to +that either you or I will quit the company."</p> + +<p>The bully's eyes narrowed. "Which one of us?"</p> + +<p>"It'll be up to Threewit to pass on that."</p> + +<p>Harrison put on his coat and slouched sulkily out of the building. He +knew quite well that if it came to a choice between him and Lennox the +director would sacrifice him without a moment's consideration.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span></p> + +<p>Farrar, who had been grinding out pictures since the beginning of +hostilities, came forward to greet Yeager with a little whoop of joy.</p> + +<p>"Say, you sure go some, Cactus Center. I never did see a fellow eat up +such a licking and come up smiling. You're certainly one Mellin's Food +baby. I'm for you—strong."</p> + +<p>One of Steve's eyes was closing rapidly, but the other had not lost its +twinkle.</p> + +<p>"Does a fellow's system good to assimilate a tanning oncet in a +while—sort o' corrects any mistaken notions he's liable to collect. +Gentlemen, hush! Ain't Harrison the boss eat-em-alive white hope that +ever turkey-trotted down the pike?"</p> + +<p>The melancholy Manderson smiled. "You make a hit with me, Arizona. If I +were in your place I'd be waiting for the undertaker. You look like +you'd out come of a railroad wreck, two fires, and a cattle stampede +over your carcass. Here, boys, hustle along first aid to our friend the +punching-bag."</p> + +<p>They got him water and towels and a sponge. Steve, protesting +humorously, submitted to their ministrations. He was grateful for the +friendliness that prompted their kindness. The atmosphere had subtly +changed. During the afternoon he had sensed a little aloofness, an +intention on the part of the company members<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span> to stand off until they +knew him better. Now the ice was melted. They had taken him into the +family. He had passed with honors his preliminary examination.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2><h3>CHAD HARRISON</h3> +</div> + +<p>As soon as Steve stepped into the dining-room he knew that the story of +his fight with Harrison had preceded him. His battered face became an +immediate focus of curious veiled glances. These exhibited an animated +interest rather than surprise.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Seymour introduced him in turn to each of the other boarders, and +the furtive looks stared for a moment their frank questions at him. As +he drew in his chair beside a slender, tanned young woman, he knew with +some amusement that his arrival had interrupted a conversation of which +he had been the theme.</p> + +<p>The film actress seated beside Yeager must have been in her very early +twenties, but her pretty face, finely modeled, had the provocative +effrontery that is the note of twentieth-century young womanhood. Its +audacity, which was the quintessence of worldliness, held an alert +been-through-it-all expression.</p> + +<p>"I hope you like Los Robles, Mr. Yeager. Some of us don't, you know," +she suggested.</p> + +<p>"Like it fine, Miss Ellington," he answered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> with enthusiasm, accepting +from Ruth Seymour a platter of veal croquettes.</p> + +<p>Daisy Ellington slanted mischievous eyes toward him. "Not much doing +here. It's a dead little hole. You'll be bored to death—if you haven't +been already."</p> + +<p>"Me! I've found it right lively," retorted Steve, his eyes twinkling. +"Had all the excitement I could stand for one day. You see I come from +way back in the cow country, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"And I came from New York," she sighed. "When it comes to little old +Broadway I'm there with bells on. What d'you mean, cow country? Ain't +this far enough off the map? Say, were you ever in New York?"</p> + +<p>"Oncet. With a load of steers my boss was shipping to England. Lemme +see. It was three years ago come next October."</p> + +<p>"Three years ago. Why, that was when I was in the pony ballet with +'Adam, Eve, and the Apple.' Did you see the show?"</p> + +<p>"Bet I did."</p> + +<p>Her eyes sparkled. "I was in the first row, third from the left in the +'Good-Night' chorus. Some kick to that song, wasn't there?"</p> + +<p>"I should say yes. We're old friends, then, aren't we?" exclaimed Yeager +promptly. He buried her little hand in his big brown paw, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> friendly +smile beaming through the disfigurements of his bruised face.</p> + +<p>"He didn't do a thing to you, did he?" she commented, looking him over +frankly.</p> + +<p>"Not a thing—except run me through a sausage-grinder, drop me out of +one of these aeroplanes, hammer my haid with a pile-driver, and jounce +me up and down on a big pile of sharp rocks. Outside of trifles like +that I had it all my own way."</p> + +<p>"I don't see any alfalfa in <i>your</i> hair," she laughed. Then, lowering +her voice discreetly, she added: "Harrison's a brute. I'll tell you +about him some time when Ruth isn't round."</p> + +<p>"Ruth!" Steve glanced at the young girl who moved about the room with +such rhythmic grace helping the Chinese waiter serve her mother's +guests. "What has she got to do with Harrison?"</p> + +<p>"Engaged to him—that's all. See that sparkler on her finger? Wouldn't +it give you a jolt that a nice little girl like her would take up with a +stiff like Harrison?"</p> + +<p>"What's her mother thinking about?" asked the cowpuncher under cover of +the conversation that was humming briskly all around the tables.</p> + +<p>Daisy lifted her shoulders in a careless little shrug. "Oh, her mother! +What's she got to do with it? Harrison has hypnotized the kid, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span> guess. +He throws a big chest, and at that he ain't bad-looking. He's one man +too, if he is a rotten bad lot."</p> + +<p>The young woman breezed on to another subject in the light, inconsequent +fashion she had, and presently deserted Yeager to meet the badinage of +an extra sitting at an adjoining table.</p> + +<p>After dinner Steve went to his new quarters to get a cigar he had left +on the table. It was one Farrar had given him. He was cherishing it +because his financial assets had become reduced to twenty cents and he +did not happen to know when pay-day was.</p> + +<p>Yeager climbed the barn stairs humming a range song:—</p> + +<p style='padding-left: 3em'> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>"Black Jack Davy came a-riding along,<br /></span> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>Singing a song so gayly,<br /></span> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>He laughed and sang till the merry woods rang<br /></span> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>And he charmed the heart of a lady,<br /></span> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>And he charmed—"<br /></span> +</p> + +<p>Abruptly he pulled up in his stride and in his song. Ruth Seymour was in +the room putting new sheets and pillow-cases on the bed.</p> + +<p>"I haven't had time before. I didn't think you would be through dinner +so soon," she explained in a voice soft and low.</p> + +<p>"That's all right. I only dropped up to get a cigar I left on the table. +Don't let me disturb you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span></p> + +<p>Her troubled eyes rested on the strong, lean face that went so well with +the strong, lean body. One eye was swollen and almost shut. Red bruises +glistened on the forehead and the cheeks. A bit of plaster stretched +diagonally above the right cheekbone where the prizefighter's knuckles +had cut a deep gash. Little ridges covered his countenance as if it had +been a contour map of a mountainous country. But through all the havoc +that had been wrought flashed his white teeth in a cheerful smile.</p> + +<p>The girl's lip trembled. "I'm sorry you—were hurt."</p> + +<p>He flashed a quick look at her. "Sho! Forget it, Miss Seymour. I wasn't +hurt any—none to speak of. It don't do a big husky like me any harm to +be handed a licking."</p> + +<p>"You—hit him first, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am,—knocked him out cold before he knew where he was at. He +was entitled to a come-back. I'm noways hos-tile to him because he's a +better man than I am."</p> + +<p>She stood with the pillow in her hands, shy as a fawn, but with a +certain resolution, too, the trouble of her soul still reflected on the +sweet face.</p> + +<p>"Why do men—do such things?" she asked with a catch of her breath.</p> + +<p>He scratched his curly head in apologetic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span> perplexity. "Search me. I +reckon the cave man is lurking around in most of us. We hadn't ought to. +That's a fact."</p> + +<p>"It was all a mistake, Miss Ellington says. You thought he was hurting +Miss Winters. Why didn't you tell him you were sorry? Then it would have +been all right."</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher did not bat an eye at this innocent suggestion.</p> + +<p>"That's right. Why didn't I think of that? Then of course he would have +laid off o' me."</p> + +<p>"He—Mr. Harrison—is quick-tempered. I suppose all brave men are. But +he's generous, too. If you had explained—"</p> + +<p>"I reckon you're right. He sure is generous, even in the whalings he +gives. But don't worry about me. I'm all right, and much obliged for +your kindness in asking."</p> + +<p>Steve found his cigar and retired. He carried with him in memory a +picture of a troubled young creature with soft, tender eyes gleaming +starlike from beneath waves of dark hair.</p> + +<p>Yeager met Harrison swaggering up the gravel walk toward the house. A +malevolent gleam lit in the cold black eyes of the bully.</p> + +<p>"How you feeling, young fella?"</p> + +<p>"A hundred and eighty years old," answered the cowpuncher promptly with +a grin. "Every time I open my mouth my face cracks. You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span> ce'tainly did +give me a proper trimming. I don't know sic-'em about this scientific +fight game."</p> + +<p>Harrison scowled. "There's more at the same address any time you need +it."</p> + +<p>"Not if I see you coming in time to make a getaway," retorted Steve with +a laugh.</p> + +<p>As the range-rider passed lightly down the walk there drifted back to +the prizefighter the words of a cowboy song:—</p> + +<p style='padding-left: 3em'> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>"Oh, bury me out on the lone prairee,<br /></span> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>In a narrow grave just six by three,<br /></span> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>Where the wild coyotes will howl o'er me—<br /></span> +<span style='margin-left: 0em;'>Oh, bury me out on the lone prairee."<br /></span> +</p> + +<p>Harrison ripped out an oath. There was a note of gentle irony about the +minor strain of the song that he resented. He had given this youth the +thrashing of his life, but he had apparently left his spirit quite +uncrushed. What he liked was to have men walk in fear of him.</p> + +<p>The song presently died on the lips of Steve. Harrison was on his way to +call on Ruth. The man had somehow won her promise to marry him. It was +impossible for Yeager to believe that the child knew what she was doing. +To think of her as the future wife of Chad Harrison moved him to +resentment at life's satiric<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span> paradoxes. To give this sweet young +innocent to such a man was to mate a lamb with a tiger or a wolf. The +outrage of it cried to Heaven. What could her mother be thinking of to +allow such a wanton sacrifice?</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2><h3>THE EXTRA</h3> +</div> + +<p>From the first Yeager enjoyed his work with the Lunar Company. Young and +full-blooded, he liked novelty and adventure, life in the open, new +scenes and faces. As a film actor he did not have to seek sensations. +They came to him unsought. He had the faculty of projecting himself with +all his mind into the business of the moment, so that he soon knew what +it was to be a noble and self-conscious hero as well as an unmitigated +villain.</p> + +<p>One day he was a miner making his last stand against a band of Mexican +banditti, the next he was crawling through the mesquite to strike down +an intrepid ranger who laughed at death. He fought desperate single +combats, leaped from cliffs into space or across bridgeless chasms, took +part in dozens of sets illustrating scenes of frontier life as Billy +Threewit conceived these. Sometimes Steve smiled. The director's ideas +had largely been absorbed in New York from reading Western fiction. But +so long as he drew down his two-fifty a day and had plenty of fun doing +it, Steve was no stickler for naked realism. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> "bad men" of Yeager's +acquaintance had usually been quiet, soft-spoken citizens, notable +chiefly for a certain chilliness of the eye and an efficient economy of +expression that eliminated waste. Those that Threewit featured were of a +different type. They strutted and bragged and made gun plays on every +possible occasion.</p> + +<p>Perhaps this was why Harrison's stuff got across. By nature a swaggering +bully, he had only to turn loose his real impulses to register what the +director wanted of a bad man. In the rough-and-tumble life he had led, +it had been Yeager's business to know men. He made no mistake about +Harrison. The fellow might be a loud-mouthed braggart; none the less he +would go the limit. The man was game.</p> + +<p>Lennox met Steve one day as the latter was returning from the property +room with a saddle Threewit had asked him to adjust. The star stopped +him good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>"Care to put the gloves on with me some time, Yeager?"</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher's face brightened. "I sure would. The boys say you're the +best ever with the mitts."</p> + +<p>"I'm a pretty good boxer, but I don't trail in your class as a fighter. +What you need is to take some lessons. If you'd care to have me show you +what I know—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span></p> + +<p>"Say, you've rung the bell first shot."</p> + +<p>"Come up to the hotel to-night, then. No need advertising it. Harrison +might pick another quarrel with you to show you what you don't know."</p> + +<p>Steve laughed. "He's ce'tainly one tough citizen. He can look at a pine +board so darned sultry it begins to smoke. All right. Be up there +to-night, Mr. Lennox."</p> + +<p>From that day the boxing lessons became a regular thing. The claim +Lennox had made for himself had scarcely done him justice. He was one of +the best amateur boxers in the West. In Yeager he had a pupil quick to +learn. The extra was a perfect specimen physically, narrow of flank, +broad of shoulder, with the well-packed muscles of one always trained to +the minute. Fifteen years in the saddle had given him a toughness of +fiber no city dweller could possibly equal. Nights under the multiple +stars in the hills, cool, invigorating mornings with the pine-filled air +strong as wine in his clean blood, long days of sunshine full of action, +had all contributed to make him the young Hermes that he was. Cool and +wary, supple as a wildcat, light as a dancing schoolgirl on his feet, he +had the qualities which go to help both the fighter and the boxer. +Lennox had never seen a man with more natural aptitude for the sport.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span></p> + +<p>Sometimes Farrar was present at these lessons. Often Baldy Cummings, who +liked the cowpuncher because Steve was always willing to help him get +the properties ready for the required sets, would put on the gloves with +him and try him out for a round or two. Manderson, the melancholy +comedian, occasionally dropped in with some other member of the company.</p> + +<p>The same thought was in the mind of all of them except Yeager himself. +The extra was being trained to meet Harrison. It was apparent to all of +them that the prizefighter was nursing a grudge. The jaunty insouciance +of the young range-rider irritated him as a banderilla goads a bull in +the ring.</p> + +<p>"Steve gets under his hide. Some day he's going to break loose again," +Farrar told Manderson as they watched Lennox and Yeager box.</p> + +<p>"The kid shapes fine. If Mr. Chad Harrison waits long enough he's liable +to find himself in trouble when he tackles that young tiger cub," +answered the comedian. "Ever see anybody quicker on his feet? Reminds me +of Jim Corbett when he was a youngster."</p> + +<p>The news of the boxing lessons traveled to Harrison. He set his heavy +jaw and waited. He intended that Yeager should go to the hospital after +their next mix-up.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile he found other causes for disliking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span> the new man. Always a +vain man, his jealousy was inflamed because Steve was a better rider +than he. At any time he was ready with a sneer for what he called the +cowpuncher's "grandstanding."</p> + +<p>"It gets across, Harrison," Threewit told him bluntly one day. "We've +never had a rider whose work was so snappy. He's doing fine."</p> + +<p>"Watch him blow up one of these days—nothing to him," growled the +heavy.</p> + +<p>"There's a whole lot to him," disagreed the producing director as he +walked away to superintend the arrangement of a set.</p> + +<p>Several days after this some new horses were added to the remuda of the +Lunar Company. Harrison picked a young mustang to ride in a chase scene +they were going to pull off. The pony was a wiry buckskin with powerful +flanks and withers. The prizefighter was no sooner in the saddle than it +developed that the animal had not been half broken. It took to pitching +at once and presently spilled the rider.</p> + +<p>Steve, sitting on the corral fence with Jackson and Orman, two other +riders for the company, called across cheerfully,—</p> + +<p>"Not hurt, are you?"</p> + +<p>The heavy got up swearing. "Any of your damned business, is it?"</p> + +<p>He caught at the pony bridle, jerked it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span> violently, and hammered the +lifted head of the dancing mustang with his fist. After several attempts +he succeeded in kicking its ribs. Yeager said nothing, but his eyes +gleamed. In the cow country men interfere rarely when a vicious rider +abuses his mount, but such a man soon finds himself under an unvoiced +ban.</p> + +<p>Harrison backed the mustang to a corner, swung to the saddle, and tugged +savagely at the reins. Two minutes later he took the dust again. The +horse had spent the interval in a choice variety of pitching that +included sun-fishing, fence-rowing, and pile-driving.</p> + +<p>To Jackson Steve made comment. "Most generally it don't pay to beat up a +horse. A man's liable to get piled, and if he gets tromped on folks +don't go into mourning."</p> + +<p>Harrison could not hear the words, but he made a fair guess at their +meaning. He turned toward Yeager with a snarl.</p> + +<p>"Got anything to say out loud, young fella?"</p> + +<p>"Only that any horse is likely to act that way when it gets its back up. +I wouldn't ride a horse without any spirit."</p> + +<p>"Think you can ride this one, mebbe?"</p> + +<p>Without speaking Yeager slid down from the fence and approached the +mustang. The animal backed away, muscles a-tremble and eyes full of +fear. Steve's movements were slow, but not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> doubtful. He stroked the +pony's neck and gentled it. His low voice murmured soft words into the +alert ear cocked back suspiciously. Then, without any haste or +unevenness of motion, he swung up and dropped gently into the saddle.</p> + +<p>For an instant the horse stood trembling. Yeager leaned forward and +patted the neck of the colt softly. His soothing voice still comforted +and reassured. Gradually its terror subsided.</p> + +<p>"Open the gate," Steve called to Orman.</p> + +<p>He rode out to the creosote flats and cantered down the road. A quarter +of an hour later he swung from the saddle beside Threewit.</p> + +<p>"Plumb gentle. You can make any horse a devil when you're one yourself."</p> + +<p>They were standing in front of the stable. Threewit started to reply, +but the words were taken out of his mouth. From out of the stable strode +Harrison, a cold anger in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"That's your opinion, is it?"</p> + +<p>Yeager's light blue eyes met his steadily. "You've heard it."</p> + +<p>"I've heard other things, too. You're taking boxing lessons. You're +going to need them, my friend."</p> + +<p>"The sooner the quicker," answered Steve evenly.</p> + +<p>"You'll cut that out, both of you," ordered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> Threewit curtly. "I'll fire +you both if you don't behave."</p> + +<p>"I'm no school-kid, Threewit. I play my own hand. Sabe?" Harrison turned +his cold eyes on the range-rider. "And I serve notice right here that +next time my young rube friend and me mixes you'd better bring a basket +to gather up the pieces."</p> + +<p>Yeager brushed a fly languidly from his gauntlet. "That's twice he's +used the word 'friend.' I reckon he don't know I'm some particular who +calls me that."</p> + +<p>"That'll be enough, Yeager. Don't start anything here. We're a +moving-picture outfit, not a bunch of pugs." Briskly the director +changed the subject. "I want you to choose a couple of the boys and go +down to Yarnell's after a herd of cattle we're going to need in that +Tapidero Jim picture. If you need more help the old man will let you +have one or two of his riders."</p> + +<p>Harrison had turned to leave, but he stopped to examine the conchas on a +pair of leathers. Steve had a fleeting thought that the man was +listening; also that he was covering the fact with a manner of elaborate +carelessness.</p> + +<p>"Want I should start right away?"</p> + +<p>"Yep. Can you get back by to-morrow night?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span></p> + +<p>"I reckon. Has Yarnell got 'em rounded up?" asked Yeager.</p> + +<p>"He telephoned me this morning they were ready."</p> + +<p>"Then we'd ought to reach Los Robles late to-morrow night if we hit the +trail steady."</p> + +<p>"Good enough. Who do you want to take with you?"</p> + +<p>"I'll take Shorty and Orman."</p> + +<p>The details were arranged on the spot. Harrison was still giving his +attention to the conchas on the chaps. They were made of 'dobe dollars. +He had seen Jackson wear them fifty times and had never before showed +the least interest in them.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2><h3>YEAGER ASKS ADVICE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Though Yeager had enjoyed immensely his month with the Lunar people, he +tasted again the dust of the drag-driver with a keen pleasure. He had +not yet been able to get it out of his mind that he was only playing at +work with the film company. When he heard some of the others complain +about long hours and dangerous stunts he wished they could have ridden +on the roundup for the Lone Star outfit about a week. Arizona had tanned +the complexions of the actors, but it had left most of them still soft +of muscle and fiber. The flabbiness of Broadway cannot be washed out of +the soul in a month.</p> + +<p>But to-day he felt he had done a man's work. It had been like old times. +The white dust of the desert had enwrapped them in clouds. The +untempered sun had beat down a palpitating heat upon dry sand wastes. +The hill cattle he was driving were as wild as deer. A dozen times some +lean steer had bolted and gone racing down a precipitous hillside like a +rabbit. As often Four Bits had wheeled in its tracks and pounded through +clutching cholla and down breakneck<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> inclines after the escaping +three-year-old. Fierce cactus thorns had torn at the leather chaps as +horse and rider had ripped through them, zigzagging across the steep +mountain slope at a gallop, the pony now slithering down the shale with +braced forelegs, now taking washes and inclines with the surefooted +litheness of a cat.</p> + +<p>Now stars by millions roofed the velvet night. A big moon had climbed +out of a crotch of the purple hills and poured a silvery light into a +valley green and beautiful with the magic touch of spring. A grove of +suhuaro rose like ghostly candelabra from the hillside opposite. The +mesquite carried a wealth of dainty foliage. Even the flat-leafed +prickly pear blended into the soft harmony of the mellow night.</p> + +<p>Los Robles was still half a dozen miles away and the cattle were weary +from the long drive. For an hour they had seemed to smell water and the +leaders made a bee-line for it, bellowing with stretched necks as they +hurried forward. It was late when at last they reached the water-hole.</p> + +<p>"Time to throw off. We'll make camp in the cool of the morning," Yeager +called to Shorty.</p> + +<p>They built a fire of dead ironwood upon which they boiled coffee and +fried bacon. Bread they had brought with them. After eating, they lay at +ease and smoked.</p> + +<p>There was little danger of the tired cattle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span> straying, but Yeager +divided his party so that they should take turn about night-herding. He +took the first watch himself.</p> + +<p>The stillness of the desert night was a thing to wonder at. The silence +of the great outdoors, of vast empty space, subdued the restlessness of +the cattle. Many a time before the range-rider had felt the fascination +of it creep into his blood as he had circled the sleeping herd murmuring +softly a Spanish love-song. By day the desert was often a place of +desolation and death, but under the mystic charm of night it was +transformed to a panorama of soft loveliness.</p> + +<p>He thought of many episodes in his short, turbid life. They flashed upon +the screen of his memory as did the pictures of the Lunar Company upon +the canvas. In his time he had mushed in Alaska, fought in Mexico, +driven stage at the Nevada gold-fields, and wandered into many a lawless +camp. Always he had answered the call of adventure regardless of where +it led.</p> + +<p>His thoughts were fugitive, inconsequent. Now they had to do with Daisy +Ellington, the New York chorus girl whose mobile, piquant face was +helping to make the Lunar reels popular. Steve was engaged in a +whirlwind flirtation with her which both of them were enjoying +extremely. He liked her slangy audacity, the frank<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span> good-fellowship with +which she had met him. Daisy was a good sport. She might pretend to sigh +for the lights of Manhattan, but she was having a tremendously good time +in Arizona.</p> + +<p>"Reach for the roof, friend. No, I wouldn't rock the boat if I was you. +Sit steady and don't move."</p> + +<p>The words came to Yeager low but imperative. Automatically his hands +went into the air even as he slewed his head to find out who was voicing +the curt command. A rope dropped over his arms and was jerked tight just +below the knees. Very cautiously a man emerged from behind a clump of +cholla. The first thing he did was to remove the automatic revolver from +the cowpuncher's chaps, the second to wind the rope tightly around his +legs.</p> + +<p>Steve made no comment, asked no questions. He knew that he would find +out all about it in time. Just now he was not running the show.</p> + +<p>"I expect your arms must be tired grabbin' at the stars. Drop 'em down +clost to your sides. That's fine. Lucky you didn't start anything +coarse, my friend."</p> + +<p>The man gave a low whistle, evidently a signal, then moved for the first +time within range of his prisoner's eyes. He was masked and wore a soft +black hat pulled well down over his forehead.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span> A Mexican serape had been +flung carelessly across his well-built shoulders.</p> + +<p>Adroitly he bound Yeager's arms to his side by winding the rope round +and round his body, after which he knotted it tightly several times at a +point just between the shoulder blades.</p> + +<p>The range-rider observed that he was a heavy-set, powerful man of about +his own height. He wore plain shiny leather chaps and the usual +high-heeled boots of a cowpuncher.</p> + +<p>Presently three other men appeared out of the darkness, bringing with +them Orman and Shorty, both of whom, wakened out of a sound sleep, were +plainly surprised and disturbed.</p> + +<p>Shorty was protesting plaintively. "This here ain't no way to treat a +man. I ain't done nothin'. There ain't no occasion whatever for a gun +play. What d'you want, anyhow? I'm no bad hombre. And me sleepin' so +peaceable, too, when you shoved the hardware into my pantry, doggone +it."</p> + +<p>The three men in charge of Yeager's assistants were also masked. One of +them in particular drew Steve's eyes. He was a slight, short person with +the walk and bearing of a youth. He wore for a mask a red bandanna +handkerchief with figures, into which holes had been cut for the eyes. +The other two were Mexicans.</p> + +<p>The heavy-set man drew them aside and gave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> orders in a low voice. What +these were Yeager could not hear, but from the gesturing he judged the +leader of the band was giving explicit directions which he expected to +be obeyed to the letter. After tying up Shorty and Yeager, the Mexicans +and the younger man disappeared. The steady bawling of cattle that began +shortly after told what they were doing. The herd was being moved slowly +toward the south from its bedding-ground.</p> + +<p>Already Steve had suspected the true state of affairs. He needed nobody +to tell him now that the cattle were to be driven across the line into +Sonora to supply some of the guerilla insurgents operating in the wilds +of that state. Once they were safe in Mexico the cattle would be sold to +old Pasquale for a fraction of their real value, the money received in +exchange for them having been wrung by that old ruffian from some +prisoner he had put to the torture to give up his honest earnings.</p> + +<p>The man who had stayed to watch Yeager and his riders finished one cigar +and lit another. He held to a somber silence, smoking moodily, a +vigilant eye on his prisoners. Two or three times he looked at his watch +impatiently. It must have been close to midnight when he rose as if to +go.</p> + +<p>"I'm going back into the bushes," he announced.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> "If any of you fellas +make a move to free yourself inside of half an hour I'll guarantee you +die of lead poisoning sudden."</p> + +<p>They heard him moving away in the mesquite.</p> + +<p>Shorty swore softly. "What d' you know about this? Me, I've had +buck-ague for most three hours expecting that doggoned holdup to blow +the roof of my head off. I don't sabe his game, unless he's on the +rustle."</p> + +<p>"Hell! He's runnin' these cows into Sonora. It don't take any wiz to +guess that," answered Orman.</p> + +<p>Steve was already busy trying to free himself. He gave no credit to the +man's assertion that they would be watched from the bushes. The leader +of the rustlers was already half a mile away, lengthening the distance +between them at every stride of his galloping horse. The range-rider +knew that their horses had probably been driven away, but he knew, too, +that if Four Bits was within hearing of his whistle he could be depended +upon to answer.</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher had offered no resistance to being tied except a passive +one. He had kept his chest expanded as much as possible when the ropes +had been tightened and he had braced the muscles of his arm against the +pressure of the folds. Ten minutes of steady work released one arm. The +rest was a matter of a few moments.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span> With his knife he slashed the ropes +that bound Shorty and Orman.</p> + +<p>Already his whistle had brought an answer from Four Bits. Five minutes +later Steve was astride the barebacked horse galloping across country +toward Los Robles. His friends he had left to follow on foot as best +they could. He had a very particular reason why he wanted to reach the +hotel as soon as possible. A suspicion had bitten into his mind. He +wanted to verify or dismiss it.</p> + +<p>An hour later Four Bits pounded down the main street of Los Robles. +Almost simultaneously Yeager brought the horse slithering to a halt and +with one lithe swing of his body landed on the ground in front of the +hotel porch. He ran up the steps and into the lobby. Behind his cage the +night clerk was drowsing.</p> + +<p>"Anybody come into the hotel the last thirty minutes?" Yeager asked +sharply.</p> + +<p>The clerk thought. "No, I reckon not. There was Mr. Simmons—but that +was most an hour since."</p> + +<p>"Nobody else?"</p> + +<p>"No. Why?"</p> + +<p>The range-rider turned to the stairs, took them three at a time, and +followed the corridor to Room 217. He hammered on the door with his +fist.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span></p> + +<p>A sleepy voice wanted to know who was there.</p> + +<p>"It's Steve Yeager, Mr. Threewit. I wanta see you."</p> + +<p>"You've got all to-morrow to see me in, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"My business won't wait."</p> + +<p>Grumbling, the producing director got up. Presently he opened the door +and stood revealed in a dressing-gown over his pajamas.</p> + +<p>"What do you want, my anxious friend?"</p> + +<p>"We've been held up."</p> + +<p>"Held up!" A slow grin spread over Threewit's fat good-natured face. +"Well, I'll bet Mr. Holdup didn't get a mint off you lads."</p> + +<p>"He didn't bother with us. It was the cattle he wanted. They've driven +them across the line. At least, I reckon so."</p> + +<p>Threewit woke up instantly. "That's different. Unload your story, +Yeager."</p> + +<p>The extra told it in six sentences.</p> + +<p>"Of course you didn't know any of the holdups. They were masked, you +say?"</p> + +<p>"Yep." Steve's cool, steady eyes held those of the director. "But I've +got a fool notion just the same that I do know one of them. Come with me +to Harrison's room."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"I'll do all the talking. Come along."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now, see here, Yeager. Just because you and Harrison are at outs—"</p> + +<p>"Have I made any charges against him? Maybe I want to ask his advice. +Maybe he could help us straighten out this thing. Got to pull together, +haven't we?" A cynical light in the eyes of the young man contradicted +his words.</p> + +<p>Reluctantly the director followed the extra to the room of the heavy on +the third floor. Yeager knocked. He rapped again, and a third time.</p> + +<p>Drowsily a voice demanded what was wanted. Presently the door was flung +open and Harrison stood blinking in the doorway, heavy-eyed and +slumberous.</p> + +<p>"What's the row?" he growled, scowling at Yeager.</p> + +<p>"We were held up on the way from Yarnell's by rustlers. They drove the +cattle away and left us tied up."</p> + +<p>"That any reason why you should wake me in the middle of the night? I +ain't got your cattle under the bed." The heavy jaw of the prizefighter +stood out saliently. Unconsciously his figure had drooped to the crouch +of defense. His small black eyes were wary and defiant.</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher laughed, lightly and easily. "I'm only a kid. Mr. +Threewit comes from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> East and don't know anything about this +rustling game. We thought of you right away."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean you thought of me?"</p> + +<p>Yeager's eyes were innocent and steady. "Why, o' course we came to you +for advice—to ask you what we'd better do."</p> + +<p>"Oh! That's it, eh?" Was there the faintest flitter of relief on the +lowering face? Steve could not be sure. "Well, I'll dress and join you +downstairs, Mr. Threewit. With you in a minute."</p> + +<p>"We got no time to lose. Mind if we talk here, Harrison?" Without +waiting for permission the extra pushed into the room and began his +story. "Must 'a' been about six miles back that we threw off the trail +and camped. I figured on getting in early in the forenoon. Well, I was +night-herding when I got orders to punch a hole in the atmosphere with +my fists. I didn't do a thing but reach for the sky. A big masked guy +come out from the mesquite and helped himself to my gun. Then he tied me +up."</p> + +<p>"Would you know him again if you saw him?" interrupted the prizefighter +harshly.</p> + +<p>The gaze of Yeager met his blandly. There was the least possible pause, +and with it a certain tension. The younger man smiled. "Why, how could +I, seeing he was masked? He was a big sulky brute. I've a notion I'd +know his voice again if I heard it, though."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span></p> + +<p>"Think so?" In Harrison's voice was a jeer, derision in the +half-shuttered eyes that watched the other man vigilantly.</p> + +<p>"His hair was about the same color as yours," added Steve in a +matter-of-fact voice.</p> + +<p>The underhung jaw of the prizefighter shot out. "Meaning anything +particular?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no," replied Steve in amiable surprise. "What could I mean?"</p> + +<p>"How do I know what every buzzard-head's got in his cocoanut?"</p> + +<p>Steve continued his story, giving fuller details. His casual glances +wandered about the room. They found no mask, no Mexican serape, no black +felt hat. Since he had not expected to see these in plain view he was +not disappointed. A belt with a scabbarded revolver lay on the table. +The extra wondered whether it was the same weapon that had been pressed +against the back of his neck a few hours earlier. The boots lying half +under the bed were white with the dust of travel, but this was nothing +unusual.</p> + +<p>"You can have my advice gratis if you want it." Harrison addressed +himself pointedly to Threewit. "Send back to old man Yarnell's and +you'll find the cattle straying in about day after to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"But, if rustlers took them—"</p> + +<p>The big man laughed unpleasantly. "Forget<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> it, Mr. Threewit. A fairy +tale to explain how-come your faithful cowboys to drap asleep and let +the bunch stray. I reckon a little too much redeye in camp is the c'rect +explanation."</p> + +<p>Yeager smiled, saying nothing.</p> + +<p>"And now I'm going to beat it for the hay again, Mr. Threewit. If you +recollect, I told you some one was going to blow up pretty soon. +Good-night."</p> + +<p>As they walked back down the corridor Steve asked one question of the +director. "Did it strike you he was a leetle too sleepy at first and +just a leetle too quick to get that chip on his shoulder?"</p> + +<p>"No, it didn't," snapped Threewit. Nobody likes to be dragged out of bed +at two <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>, to hear bad news, and the director was merely human. "It +makes me tired the way you two fellows shoot off about each other."</p> + +<p>"He's a pretty slick proposition," Yeager went on, unmoved. "He hit the +high spots back to town so as to have his alibi ready—didn't leave any +evidence floating around loose in his room. He must have come up the +back way so as to slip in without being noticed by the night clerk. At +that he couldn't have reached here more than a few minutes before me."</p> + +<p>"Quite a Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"Bet you a week's salary that if we go out to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span> the stables we find one +of the horses still wet with sweat from a long run."</p> + +<p>"Go you once," retorted Threewit promptly. "Wait just a jiffy till I get +more clothes on."</p> + +<p>Steve's prediction was verified. White Stockings, one of the fastest +mounts in the remuda of the company, had been brought in from a long +hard run within the past half-hour. Its flanks were stained with sweat +and the marks of the saddle chafed its still moist back.</p> + +<p>"You win," admitted Threewit. "But that doesn't prove Harrison was on +its back."</p> + +<p>"No. Say, what about giving me a week off, Mr. Threewit?"</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"I've just taken a notion to travel some. Mebbe I might run acrost those +cattle that strayed back to Yarnell's whilst I was sleeping."</p> + +<p>The director looked at him sharply. "All right. Go to it, son."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2><h3>PLUCKING A PIGEON</h3> +</div> + +<p>Steve slept almost around the clock. He lost breakfast, but was there +promptly for luncheon with the appetite of a harvest hand. During the +two days' drive he had missed the good home cooking of Mrs. Seymour and +he intended to make up for it.</p> + +<p>Orman and Shorty had reached town some time about daylight and had +spread the story of the holdup, so that the dining-room was humming with +excitement. A dozen questions were flung at Steve before he had well +taken his seat. He threw up his hands in surrender.</p> + +<p>Before he had finished telling his edited story, Shorty drifted in and +divided the interest. The little extra promptly took the stage away from +Yeager, whereupon Daisy Ellington absorbed the attention of Steve. She +asked a sharp question or two which he answered blandly. It was not his +intention to communicate any suspicions he happened to have.</p> + +<p>They were waiting for the dessert. Daisy put her lean, pretty elbows on +the table and her chin in her little doubled fists. A provocative<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> +audacity was in the tilted smile she flashed at him.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Well, what?"</p> + +<p>"Breeze on, Steve. You're doin' fine. Next scene."</p> + +<p>"That's all."</p> + +<p>"Say, do I look like I was born yesterday? See any green in my eye, +Cactus Center?"</p> + +<p>He grinned. "You're sure wise, compadre. But the rest is mostly +suspicions."</p> + +<p>"I'm listening," she nodded.</p> + +<p>"You're such a Sherlock Holmes I'd hate to go out with the boys if I was +married to you."</p> + +<p>"I'm your friend and wouldn't wish any such bad luck on you," she +countered gayly. Then, in a lower voice, with a sudden gravity: "Is it +Harrison, Steve?"</p> + +<p>Amazement sparkled for a moment in his eyes. "With your imagination, +Daisy,—" he was beginning when she cut him short.</p> + +<p>"You gotta tell me what's on your chest, you transparent kid."</p> + +<p>He knew she could keep a secret like a well. Looking round guardedly, +his voice fell to a whisper. "If I'd reached town ten minutes earlier +I'd 'a' beat him in and showed him up. Threewit won't hear to it, of +course, but the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span> man that held me up was Chad Harrison. Take it or leave +it. Just the same it's a fact."</p> + +<p>Daisy nodded rapidly several times. "I take it, Steve. Always did know +there was something shady about the big stiff. And I'll tell you +something else you don't know. It's through that wild young colt brother +of hers that he's got a strangle hold on Ruth."</p> + +<p>Yeager set his lips to a noiseless whistle. "You mean—?"</p> + +<p>She flung his question aside with an impatient wave of her hand. "I +can't tell you what I mean. I've got no evidence. But it's true. She's +ridiculously fond of that young scamp Phil. Somehow—in some +way—Harrison has got the whip hand over him."</p> + +<p>His eyes fell on the slender girl waiting on the table at the other end +of the room. Her look met his. It almost seemed as if she knew they had +been talking about her, for the milky cheek took on a shell-pink tinge. +The long lashes fluttered down and she busied herself at once about her +work.</p> + +<p>"If she was my sister—"</p> + +<p>Daisy did not need a completed sentence to understand his meaning. "Can +you beat it?" she asked with a shrug. "Any gink that knows enough to +come in out of the rain could tell that Chad Harrison is a bad egg. Give +him the once over and you can see that."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span></p> + +<p>After Ruth had arranged the tables for dinner she stole out to the porch +for a breath of fresh air. Already the approach of an Arizona summer was +beginning to make itself felt during the middle of the day. Yeager sat +beneath the wild cucumber vines pleating a horsehair hatband for Daisy +Ellington.</p> + +<p>Ruth liked this brown, lithe cowpuncher, all sinew and bone and muscle. +His smile was so warm and friendly, his manner so boyish and yet so +competent. To look into his kind, steady eyes was to know that he could +be trusted.</p> + +<p>She moved in his direction shyly, a touch of pink blooming in her soft +cheeks. Ruth was charmingly unsure of herself. It was always easy to +disturb her composure. Even a casual encounter with the slim, +brown-faced range-rider was an adventure for her. Now her pansy eyes +deepened in color with excitement, with the tremulous fear of what she +was to learn.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Yeager, I—wanted to ask you about—about the holdup."</p> + +<p>"What about it, Miss Ruth?"</p> + +<p>"Did you—know any of them?"</p> + +<p>"How could I? They were masked." His eyes had taken on a film of +wariness that blotted out for the moment their kindness.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know—I thought, perhaps,—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span> She tried a new start. "Did you +say that three of them were Mexicans?"</p> + +<p>"Two of them," he corrected.</p> + +<p>There was the least quiver of her lip. "The others were—both big men, +didn't you say?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say."</p> + +<p>A footstep sounded on the crisp gravel walk. Steve looked up, in time to +catch the flash of warning menace Harrison sent toward the girl.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Yeager has been having a pipe-dream, Ruth. Don't wake him up," +jeered the heavy.</p> + +<p>Ruth fled unobtrusively and left the men alone.</p> + +<p>"Hear you're going on a vacation," said Harrison gruffly.</p> + +<p>"You've heard correct." Yeager pleated his hatband with steady fingers. +His voice was even and placid.</p> + +<p>Harrison looked him over with indolent insolence. "Some folks find this +climate don't agree with them. Some folks find it better to drift out, +casual-like, y' understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I'm tellin' it to you straight."</p> + +<p>"That you're going to leave? The Lunar Company will miss you," suggested +the range-rider politely.</p> + +<p>"Think you're darned clever, don't you? It's you that's leaving the +company, Mr. Yeager."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span></p> + +<p>"For a week."</p> + +<p>"For good."</p> + +<p>"Hadn't heard of it. News to me," answered Steve lightly.</p> + +<p>"I'm givin' you the tip. See?"</p> + +<p>"Oncet I knew a fellow who lived to be 'most ninety minding his own +business," observed the cowpuncher to the world in general as he held up +and examined his work.</p> + +<p>"It ain't considered safe to get gay with me. I'm liable to lam your +head off," threatened the big man sullenly.</p> + +<p>"And then again you're liable not to. I'm not freightin' with your +outfit, Mr. Harrison. Kindly lay off of me and you'll find we get along +fine."</p> + +<p>Steve rose and passed on his way to the street. Harrison was in two +minds whether to force an issue again with him, but something in the +contour of that close-gripped jaw, in the gleam of the steady eyes, was +more potent than the dull rage surging in him. He let the opportunity +pass.</p> + +<p>Four Bits carried Yeager away from Los Robles at a road gait. Horse and +rider were taking the border trail. It led them through a desolate +country of desert where the flat-leafed prickly pear and the occasional +pudgy creosote were the chief forms of vegetable life. Now and again a +swift might be seen basking on a rock or a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> Gila monster motionless on +the hillside. The ominous buzz of a rattler more than once made the pony +sidestep. Mesa and flat and wash succeeded each other monotonously.</p> + +<p>It was after sunset when they drew up at a feed corral in Arixico. Steve +looked after his horse and sauntered down the little adobe street to a +Chinese restaurant which ostentatiously announced itself as the "New +York Cafe." This side of the business street was in the territory of +Uncle Sam, the other half floated the Mexican flag. After he had eaten, +the young man drifted across to one of the gambling-houses that invited +the patronage of Americans and natives alike.</p> + +<p>He found within the heterogeneous gathering usually to be observed in +such a place. Vaqueros brushed shoulders with Chinese laundrymen, +cowpunchers with soldiers, peons with cattlemen from Arizona and Texas. +Here were miners and soldiers of fortune and plain tramps. More than one +of the shining-eyed gamblers had a price upon his head. Several were +outlaws. A score or more had taken part in the rapine and the pillage of +the guerrilla warfare that has of late years been the curse of the +country. It would have been hard in a day's travel to find an assembly +where human life was held at less value.</p> + +<p>Among these lawless, turbulent siftings of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span> continent Yeager was +very much at home. He merged inconspicuously into the picture, a quiet, +brown-faced man with cool, alert eyes. Nobody paid the least attention +to him. He might be a horse-thief or an honest cowpuncher. It was a +matter of supreme indifference to those present. Experience in that +outdoor frontier school which always keeps open session had taught them +that a man lived longer here when he minded his own business.</p> + +<p>Steve stood close to the bar. A prospector leaned against it and talked +to an acquaintance while they drank their beer.</p> + +<p>"This here's how I figure it," he was saying. "I had a little dough when +I begun digging gopher holes in these here hills. Not much—say fifteen +hundred, mebbe. I sure ain't got it now. Lost it in a hole in the +ground. Well; I reckon I'll go on looking for it where I lost it."</p> + +<p>Casually Yeager sauntered over to the roulette table. A fat man in duck +trousers—he was the agent for a firm of rifle manufacturers, Steve +learned later—was bucking the wheel hard. In front of him lay a pile of +gold-pieces and several stacks of chips. He was very red in the face +from excitement and cocktails. The range-rider put a half-dollar on the +red and won. He let it ride, won again, and shifted the chips to the +black. Once more the goddess of luck favored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> him. He divided his pile. +Half went on the red, the rest on the first number his eye caught. It +happened to be seventeen. The croupier spun the wheel again. The ball +whirled round, dipped down once or twice, and plumped into the +compartment numbered seventeen.</p> + +<p>"Enough's a-plenty. Here's where I cash in," announced Steve cheerfully.</p> + +<p>He stuffed the bills carelessly into his pocket and strolled over to the +faro table. Yeager had come on business, not for pleasure. He intended +to play just enough to give a colorable reason for his presence.</p> + +<p>His roving eye settled upon the poker table at the rear of the room. +Five men were playing. Two were Mexicans, three white. Two of the +Americans were dismissed from Steve's mind with a casual glance. They +were negligible factors. The third had his back to the observer, but the +figure had a slender, boyish trimness that spoke of youth. The Mexican +sitting to his right was a square-built fellow of forty with a scar on +the cheek running from mouth to ear. There was on his face a certain +ugliness of expression, a furtive cruelty. That there was an +understanding between him and the man opposite soon became apparent to +Yeager. They cross-raised the boy, working together to mulct him of the +pile of chips in front of him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span></p> + +<p>It was the Mexican who sat with his back to the wall that drew and held +the cowpuncher's eye. He too was slender, not much past thirty, but with +the youth long since stamped out of his face. Sleek and black, a +dominant personality, he sat there warily as a rattlesnake, dark eyes +gleaming from a masked, smiling countenance.</p> + +<p>The boy was the pigeon, and it was the Mexicans that were plucking him. +So much Steve learned within two minutes. He had cut his eye teeth at +poker, and he saw at a glance that this was no game for a youngster. +Quietly he moved a step or two closer along the wall. He observed the +play without appearing to do so.</p> + +<p>The tension of the game was relieved with casual conversation. The two +negligibles, playing about even, contributed mostly to it. The bulky +Mexican added his quota. The boy, a heavy loser, concealed his feelings +under the bravado expected of a good sport.</p> + +<p>They were playing jack pots with a stripped deck, the joker going as a +fifth ace or to fill a straight or a flush. Several hands were dealt +without any stayers. The slender Mexican was dealing when the sensation +of the game was handed out.</p> + +<p>One of the negligibles opened the pot. The bulky Mexican stayed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span></p> + +<p>In the slow, easy drawl of the Southwest the boy spoke. "Me, I reckon +I'll have to tilt it. Got to protect your hand from these wolves, Dave." +He pushed in a stack of blue chips.</p> + +<p>The third American did not stay. It was now up to the dealer—his name, +it appeared, was Ramon Culvera. After a moment's hesitation he measured +a stack of blues by those the boy had put in the pot and added to it +another pile of yellows. With a grunt of protest the older Mexican +stayed. The man who had opened the pot dropped out.</p> + +<p>"Enough's a-plenty. Me, I got no business trailing along with you +hyenas," he explained.</p> + +<p>"Different here," commented the boy. "My cards look good enough for +another hike."</p> + +<p>Culvera examined his hand carefully, met the raise, and picked up the +deck.</p> + +<p>The Mexican with the scar interposed. "But one moment, señor. Let us +make it a good pot." He pushed in all the chips in front of him.</p> + +<p>Yeager, standing against the wall, caught the swift flash of surprise in +the eyes of the boy. He counted the chips of the Mexican and then his +own. These he added to the small fortune in the center of the table.</p> + +<p>"Call it. I'm fifty-three shy," he said in an even voice.</p> + +<p>The range-rider knew without being told that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span> this hand had been dealt +from a cold deck for the express purpose of cleaning out the boy. From +the tenseness of the lithe body, which had become, as it were, a coiled +spring, he knew that the lad's suspicions were stirring to life.</p> + +<p>The greedy little eyes of Culvera fastened on the boy. He made his first +mistake. "How much you play back, Pheelip?"</p> + +<p>The youngster answered. "I said a hundred bucks. I've got fifty-three in +the pot now. That leaves forty-seven."</p> + +<p>Culvera's raise was forty-seven dollars. The big Mexican shrugged. "Too +steep for Jesus Mendoza." He threw his cards into the discard.</p> + +<p>The boy who had been called Philip laid his cards face down on the table +in front of him.</p> + +<p>"Call it," he announced hoarsely. His eyes were fastened steadily on the +nimble brown fingers of the dealer.</p> + +<p>"Cards?" asked Culvera with an indolent lift of his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>Philip hesitated. He had the nine, ten, and jack of clubs, the queen of +hearts, and the joker. This counted as a king-high straight. Steve, +standing back and to one side of him, guessed the boy's dilemma. Should +he stand pat on his straight or discard the heart and draw to his +straight flush? Culvera's play had shown great strength and would +probably beat the pat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span> hand. The lad took a chance and called for one +card.</p> + +<p>Culvera drew two. He left them lying on the table while he discarded +leisurely.</p> + +<p>"You're all in, Pheelip. It's a showdown. What you got?"</p> + +<p>Philip had drawn the six of clubs. He spread his hand with a sweeping +gesture. "All blue."</p> + +<p>The Mexican shrugged. "Beats me unless I helped." He showed three +eights, then faced the two cards he had drawn. The first was a king of +diamonds, the second the fourth eight.</p> + +<p>"Hard luck, Pheelip," he said, and all his teeth flashed in a friendly +smile as he opened both arms to rake in the chips.</p> + +<p>Philip sat silent, his mind seething with suspicions. Culvera had played +his hand very strangely, unless—unless he had known that a fourth eight +was waiting for him in the deck. The boy looked up, in time to catch a +vanishing smile on the face of Mendoza.</p> + +<p>"Just a moment, Ramon," he called sharply, covering the chips with his +hands. "That play—it don't look good to me. A man don't play threes so +strong as that."</p> + +<p>Culvera still smiled blandly, though his eyes were very watchful. "Me, I +have what you call a hunch, Pheelip."</p> + +<p>Yeager took two steps forward. "You bet he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span> did. Cold deck, kid. The +other one is in his right-hand coat pocket."</p> + +<p>The suavity went out of Culvera's face as a light does from a blown +candle. Snarling, he rose from his seat and faced the cowpuncher.</p> + +<p>"Liar! Cabrone!" he hissed, reaching for his gun.</p> + +<p>Already the revolver of Mendoza was flashing in the air.</p> + +<p>Like a streak Steve's arm swept up. Twice his revolver sounded. There +was a crash of breaking glass from the incandescent lights. Yeager flung +himself against the table and drove it against Culvera who reeled back +against the wall and dropped his weapon. The sound of more shots, of men +dodging their way to safety, of a sharp cry followed by groans, had +trodden so swiftly on the heels of the range-rider's action that when he +turned a moment later he saw in the semi-darkness a smoke-filled room in +the confusion of chaotic movement.</p> + +<p>Philip stood close to him, a smoking .38 in his hand, while Mendoza, +clutching at his chair for support, sank slowly to the ground.</p> + +<p>Close to the boy's ear spoke Steve. "Beat it. Make your getaway through +that door. Meet me at Johanson's corral."</p> + +<p>The boy plunged through the doorway into the darkness outside. Toward +the exit after him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span> backed the cowpuncher. Already scattered shots were +being flung in his direction, but the dim light served him well. The +last thing he saw before he vanished through the door was Culvera +groping for his weapon.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2><h3>STEVE TELLS TOO MUCH TRUTH</h3> +</div> + +<p>Yeager ducked into the night. From the door through which he had just +come bullets spat aimlessly. He crouched as he ran, dodging in zigzag +little rushes. Voices pursued him, fierce and threatening. Men poured +from the gambling-house as seeds are squirted from a squeezed lemon.</p> + +<p>Into a vacant lot behind a store Steve swerved, finding shelter among +some empty drygoods boxes. He was none too soon, for as he sank to +cover, the rush of feet padded down the sidewalk. Stealthily he crept to +the fence, vaulted it lightly, and found a more secure hiding-place in +the lumber yard beyond. From the top of a pile of two by fours he +watched, every sense alert to catch any warning of danger.</p> + +<p>Soon his pursuers returned in little groups to their interrupted games. +Now that the first excitement of the chase was over, few of them wanted +to risk a battle with desperate men in the dark. That was what the +rurales and the rangers were for.</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher slid down cautiously and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span> left the lumber yard by way of +the alley in the rear. He followed a barb-wire fence which bounded a +pasture, and at the next corner crossed the street warily into United +States territory. By alleys and back ways his feet took him to +Johanson's stable. Noiselessly he crept toward it from the rear. Some +one was inside saddling a horse. So much he could gather from the +sounds. Was it Phil? Or was it some one getting ready for the pursuit? +He moved a step nearer. A stick cracked beneath his foot.</p> + +<p>The man saddling the bronco whirled, revolver in hand. "Who is it?" +demanded a tense voice.</p> + +<p>"All right, Phil." Steve moved forward, breathing easier. "Glad you made +it. We'd better light a shuck out of here. They'll stir up the rurales +to get after us, I reckon."</p> + +<p>Already he was busy saddling Four Bits.</p> + +<p>"Do you ... do you think I killed him?" jerked out the boy, a strangled +sob of over-strained emotion in his throat.</p> + +<p>"Don't know. He was asking for it, wasn't he?" answered Yeager in a +matter-of-fact voice. He did not intend by an expression of sympathy to +aid in any breakdown here. That could come later when they had put many +miles between them and Arixico.</p> + +<p>They led their horses out of the stable and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> swung to the saddles not a +minute too soon. A man came running toward them.</p> + +<p>"Hold on," he called. "Just a moment. I'm the sheriff. They say a man +has been killed."</p> + +<p>The fugitives put spurs to their broncos. The animals jumped to a +canter. Over his shoulder Steve looked back. The sheriff was standing +undecided. Before it penetrated his brain that these were the men he +wanted they were out of range.</p> + +<p>For a time they rode in silence except for the clicking of the hoofs. +Yeager turned, his hand on the rump of his pony.</p> + +<p>"Don't hear anything of them. We've made a clean getaway, looks like. +But they'll keep the wires warm after us—if Mendoza is dead."</p> + +<p>The boy broke down, sobbing. "My God, I couldn't help it. What else +could I do? He was shooting when I fired."</p> + +<p>"Sure he was, but that won't help you if they take you back to Mexico. +My advice is for you to get into a hole and draw it in after you, for a +few days anyhow. Where do you live?"</p> + +<p>"At Los Robles—when I'm at home."</p> + +<p>"Then you <i>are</i> Phil Seymour?"</p> + +<p>"Who told you?" flashed the boy.</p> + +<p>"I board with your mother. I'm a rider for the Lunar Company."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then you know Chad Harrison. Chad will get me out of this. He'll fix +it."</p> + +<p>"How'll he fix it?" demanded Yeager bluntly. "Back there across the line +they're going to call this by an ugly name—if Mendoza cashes in his +checks. Harrison can't fix murder, can he?"</p> + +<p>A film of hard wariness covered the eyes of the boy as he looked across +in the darkness at the other man. "He's got friends," was the dry, +noncommittal answer that came to the range-rider after a moment's +distinct pause.</p> + +<p>Yeager asked no more questions. There had been a "No trespass" sign in +Phil's manner. But as they rode silently toward Los Robles Steve's mind +groped again with the problem of Harrison's relation to those in power +across the border. Was the man tied up with old Pasquale? Or was he an +agent of the Huerta Government? Just now the Federals had control of +this part of the border. Did the boy mean that it was among them that +Harrison had friends? It looked that way, and yet—The cowpuncher could +not get it out of his head that the stolen cattle had been for old +Pasquale. Huerta's lieutenants were too wary to stock their pantry from +the United States in that fashion.</p> + +<p>They rode into Los Robles in the first gray stirrings of dawn, long +before anybody in the little town was afoot.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where are you going to hide? First place they'll look for you will be +at home," suggested Yeager.</p> + +<p>"There's a haystack out in the Lunar pastures. I'll lay low there. Tell +Chad when you see him, and have Ruth fix me up something to eat."</p> + +<p>They parted, each of them to get in what sleep was possible before day. +When Steve was awakened by the sound of some one stirring in the next +room it seemed as though he had been in bed only a few minutes.</p> + +<p>He walked up to the hotel before breakfast and saw Harrison as the actor +was going into the dining-room. The big man stopped in his tracks and +shot out a heavy jaw at him.</p> + +<p>"Thought you was giving our eyes a rest for a while," he growled.</p> + +<p>Yeager declined to exchange compliments with him. "There's a friend of +yours on the haystack in the pasture. He wants to see you soon as it's +convenient."</p> + +<p>The eyes of the pugilist narrowed. "Put a name to him."</p> + +<p>"Phil Seymour."</p> + +<p>"What's he doing here?" demanded Harrison blackly.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'd better ask him." Steve turned on his heel and walked back +to his boarding-house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span></p> + +<p>His arrival at the breakfast table was greeted with a chorus of +exclamations. What was he doing back so soon? Had he got homesick? Had +he run out of money already?</p> + +<p>He let them worm out of him that he had ridden away and forgotten his +purse and that upon discovering this he had come back for the supplies +of war. They joked him unmercifully, even Daisy,—who was manifestly +incredulous about his explanation,—and he accepted their hilarious +repartee with the proper amount of sheepish resentment.</p> + +<p>After the meal was over he lingered to see Ruth, who had just sat down +to eat.</p> + +<p>"Can I see you alone, Miss Ruth?"</p> + +<p>She flashed a quick look at him, doubtful and apprehensive. "In the +pergola, almost right away."</p> + +<p>The girl reached the vine-draped entrance of the pergola shortly after +Yeager. Manifestly her fears had been growing in the interval since he +had left her.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" And swift on the heels of that, "Is it about Phil?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"He's in trouble ... again?" she breathed.</p> + +<p>He nodded assent. "The boy's out in the pasture. He wants you to send +him breakfast."</p> + +<p>The dread that was always lying banked in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span> the hearts of herself and her +mother found voice. "What has he done now?"</p> + +<p>The range-rider chose his words carefully. "There was some trouble—just +across the border. He had to shoot ... and a man fell."</p> + +<p>Her face mirrored terror. "You mean ... dead?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he answered gravely.</p> + +<p>"Tell me all about it, please,—the circumstances, everything."</p> + +<p>"He will tell you himself. I'll just say this—the shooting was forced +on him. He fired in self-defense."</p> + +<p>She wrung her hands. "I knew ... I knew something dreadful would happen. +Mr. Harrison promised me—he said he would look out for Phil."</p> + +<p>Steve looked her straight in the eyes. "Harrison's a crook. He's been +using your love for Phil as a lever. It's up to you and the boy to shake +him off."</p> + +<p>A swift, upblazing anger leaped to her face. "How dare you say that! How +dare you!"</p> + +<p>His blue eyes met her dark, stormy ones quietly and steadily. "I'm +telling you the truth. Can't you see he's been leading Phil into +deviltry? You're afraid of him, afraid of his influence over the boy. +That's why you knuckle down to him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid. He's Phil's friend. You're against him just because +he—he—"</p> + +<p>"Say it, Miss Ruth. Just because he gave me the whaling of my young +life. Nothing to that, nothing a-tall. My system can absorb a licking +without bearing a grudge. But he ain't on the level. 'Course you'll hate +me for saying it, but some one's got to tell you."</p> + +<p>"It's none of your business. I dare say it was you that was with Phil +when he—when he—got into trouble."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I thought so." A sob swelled up in her throat. "You come here and make +trouble. I do hate you if you want to know."</p> + +<p>With that she turned tempestuously and went flying back to the house.</p> + +<p>Steve smiled ruefully. He did not know much about women, but he had read +somewhere that they were capable of injustice. She had plenty of spirit, +anyhow, for all that she looked so demure and shy.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2><h3>THE HEAVY GETS HIS TIME</h3> +</div> + +<p>Threewit came to Steve while Cummings was preparing the stage set for a +dissolve.</p> + +<p>"Wish you'd look over this scenario, Yeager. The old man sent it out to +me to see if we can pull off the riding end of it. Scene twenty-seven is +the sticker. Here's the idea: You've been thrown from your horse and +your foot's caught in the stirrup. You draw your gat to shoot the bronch +and it's bumped out of your hand as you're dragged over the rough +ground. See? You save your life by wriggling your foot out of your boot. +Can it be done without taking too many chances?"</p> + +<p>The rider considered. "I reckon it could if a fellow's boot was fixed so +he could slip his foot out at the right time. I'll take a whirl at it."</p> + +<p>"There's another scene where you save Maisie by jumping from your horse +to a wild steer that's pursuing her. You'll have to twist its head and +throw the brute after you straddle it."</p> + +<p>"All right. When you want to pull it off?"</p> + +<p>"We can do the stirrup one to-day, before you go—if you still want to +go."</p> + +<p>"Got an answer yet from Arixico?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span></p> + +<p>"Just got it. Mendoza's still alive, but mighty badly hurt. I've sent +the kid out to the animal farm. He'll lie low, and they won't find him +there."</p> + +<p>"I'm still curious about that bunch of cattle we lost. If you can spare +me I'll run down and see if old Pasquale hasn't got 'em. It ain't likely +we'll ever get hide or hair of 'em, but there's one thing I'd like to +find out."</p> + +<p>"Still got that notion about Harrison?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe I have. Maybe I haven't. Anyhow, folks that are blind can't see. +I'll keep my notions in my own fool haid for a while."</p> + +<p>"Harrison has some friends across the line. He's going to try and fix it +for the kid if they run him down."</p> + +<p>"That's fine," commented Yeager dryly. "He sure must have influential +friends."</p> + +<p>"All ready, Mr. Threewit," called out Cummings.</p> + +<p>The director lit a cigar and moved forward to the stage. "Lennox, you're +too far up stage. Register fear, Daisy. That's the idea. Now, then, Miss +Winters. Keep your eyes on Daisy as you come into the room. No—no—no! +That won't do at all."</p> + +<p>Yeager left them to their rehearsal troubles and strolled back to his +boarding-house. He would not be needed till afternoon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span></p> + +<p>He spent a half-hour softening the leather of his right boot around the +ankle. A man cannot tumble from a running horse, let himself be dragged +forty yards, and then slip his foot from the stirrup of a cowpony that +has become frightened without taking a big chance. But it was his +business to take chances. He always had taken them. And he knew that +they could be minimized by careful preparation, expertness, and cool +skill of execution.</p> + +<p>As it turned out, Yeager had to make his fall twice. The ground selected +for the set was a bit of level space just at the foot of a hillside. The +rider went down hard on his shoulder at exactly the spot selected, but +he had miscalculated slightly and the force of the fall dragged his foot +from the boot at once. His calculations worked better at the second +attempt. Hanging on by a toe-hold, he was dragged bumping over the rough +ground. His revolver came out on schedule time and flew into the air. +When Farrar gave the word,—which was at the moment the galloping horse +was opposite the camera,—Steve worked his foot free, leaving the boot +still clinging to the stirrup.</p> + +<p>Yeager got to his feet rather unsteadily. The fall had been an unusually +hard one, and it had not helped any to be dragged at full speed over the +bumpy ground. Maisie Winters ran forward<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> and slipped an arm around his +waist to support him.</p> + +<p>"You dandy man! I never did see one so game as you, Steve."</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher grinned. He liked Maisie Winters. There was about her a +boyish, slangy camaraderie that made for popularity.</p> + +<p>"Says the extra to the star, 'Much obliged, ma'am.'"</p> + +<p>"You're no extra. In your own line you're as big a star as we've got. I +know there isn't a rider in the country like you. You're a jim-dandy."</p> + +<p>"He's quite a family pet," contributed Harrison sourly.</p> + +<p>Farrar came forward from the camera, his eyes shining. "Some picture, +I'll bet. Good boy! You pulled it fine, Steve. Didn't he, Threewit?"</p> + +<p>The director nodded. He was wondering how much he would have to raise +this young man's salary to hold him from rival companies.</p> + +<p>"Sho! I just fell out of the saddle, Frank. Most any one can fall off a +horse."</p> + +<p>Harrison laughed spitefully. "I saw him do a better fall than that +oncet."</p> + +<p>Farrar was on the spot. "I saw you do a mighty good one the same day."</p> + +<p>"Don't get fresh, young fella, or you'll do more than see one," snarled +the heavy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span></p> + +<p>"Want to beat me up, Chad?" asked Farrar with innocent impudence. "I +weigh one hundred and thirty-one pounds when I'm hog fat. How much do +you weigh?"</p> + +<p>"Cut it out, Frank," ordered Threewit. "I've had about enough of this +jangling. If it isn't stopped, some one's going to lose a job. We're +here to take pictures. Any one who's got any other idea had better call +at the office for his time."</p> + +<p>"Meaning me, Mr. Director?" demanded Harrison menacingly.</p> + +<p>"Meaning you or anybody else that won't keep the rules I set for the +company I run," retorted the director sharply.</p> + +<p>"Forget it, Threewit. I'm no kid. Nobody runs me with rules. I do as I +please."</p> + +<p>"You'll not make trouble in my company."</p> + +<p>"You ain't any little tin god on wheels. Don't run away with that idee +in your bean. I haven't seen any man yet that can lay onto me without +getting his hair curled for him. Me, I play my own hand, by God; and I +don't care whether it's against Mr. Yeager or Mr. Farrar—or Mr. +Threewit. See?"</p> + +<p>"Your pay is waiting for you, Harrison."</p> + +<p>"What? How's that?" he snarled.</p> + +<p>"You're discharged—no longer working for the Lunar Company."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span></p> + +<p>Harrison's face became an apoplectic purple. He stood with clenched +fists glaring at the director, ready to explode with rage. It was a part +of his vanity that he had not supposed for an instant that Threewit +would let him go.</p> + +<p>But it happened that the director had a temper of his own. He had chafed +long enough under the domineering ways of the ex-prizefighter. Moreover, +Harrison was no longer so essential to the company. Yeager was a far +better rider and could register more effectively the feats of +horsemanship that were a feature of the Lunar films. Billie Threewit had +known for some time that this man was an element of disorganization in +the company. Therefore he was letting him go.</p> + +<p>Steve stood quietly in the background, one arm thrown carelessly across +the neck of his pony. But his gaze did not lift from the heavy, who +stood glaring at the director, his fingers working and head thrust low +on the deep chest so that the gorilla hunch was emphasized. The man's +black eyes snapped with a blazing fire that seemed ready to leap like a +crouched tiger.</p> + +<p>"Through with me, are you? Going to use that grand-stander Yeager +instead, I reckon. That's the game, is it?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not discussing my plans with you."</p> + +<p>"Ain't you? Well, I'll discuss mine to this extent. I'll make you sick +of this day's work all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span> right before I'm through with you. Get that? +Plumb sick." His eyes traveled around the half-circle till they met +those of Yeager. "You'll get yours too, my friend. Believe <i>me</i>. Get it +a-plenty. You're going to sweat blood when I git you hog-tied."</p> + +<p>He turned away, flung himself on his horse, and dug the rowels into the +sides of the animal savagely.</p> + +<p>Farrar laughed nervously. "Exit Mr. Chad Harrison, some annoyed."</p> + +<p>Steve looked gravely at his employer. "Sorry you tied that can on him, +Mr. Threewit. He's not just the man I'd choose for an enemy if I was +picking one."</p> + +<p>"Had to do it sometime. The sooner the quicker. Anyhow, he hasn't got it +in for me as much as he has for you."</p> + +<p>Yeager shrugged. "Oh, me. That's different. 'Course he hates me +thorough, but I'm sorry you got mixed in it."</p> + +<p>"What difference does it make? He can't hurt me any." The director +clapped his hands briskly. "All over at the willows for the kid-finding +scene. Got your location picked, Farrar?"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2><h3>GABRIEL PASQUALE</h3> +</div> + +<p>A red-hot cannon ball was flaming high in the heavens when Yeager drew +out of Los Robles at a road gait. The desert winds were whispering +good-night to the sun as he crossed Dry Sandy just above the Sinks. Many +dusty miles in Sonora had been clipped off by Four Bits before the chill +moon rose above the black line of the distant hills and flooded a +transformed land with magical light, touching a parched and arid earth +to a vibrant and mysterious beauty of whispering yucca and fantastic +cactus and weird outline of mesquite.</p> + +<p>Twice he unsaddled the bronco, hobbled it, and lay on his back with his +face to the million stars of night. The first time he gave Four Bits an +hour's rest and grazing. It was midnight when he dismounted at a +water-hole gone almost dry under many summer suns. Here he slept the +heavy, restful sleep of healthy, fatigued youth, arms and legs +sprawling, serene and peaceful, unmoving as a lifeless log.</p> + +<p>With the first faint streaks of dawn that came flooding into the eastern +sky he was afoot, knocking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> together such breakfast as a rider of the +plains needs. Presently he was once more in the saddle, pushing across +the tawny, empty desert toward the hills that hid Noche Buena, the +village where Pasquale had his headquarters.</p> + +<p>The smell of breakfast and the smoke of it were in the air when he rode +into the street lined with brown adobe huts. The guards paid no +attention to him. Gringos evidently were no unusual sight to the +troopers of the insurgent chief. Most of these were wearing blue denim +suits of overall stuff, though a few were clad in khaki. All carried +bright-colored handkerchiefs around their necks. Serapes, faded and +bright, of all hues and textures, were in evidence everywhere.</p> + +<p>He stopped a boy in riding-boots reaching to his hips, down the sides of +which were conchas of silver dollars. Like most of those in camp the +face upturned to that of Yeager was of a strong Indian cast.</p> + +<p>The American inquired where the general might be found.</p> + +<p>The boy—Steve judged him not over fifteen, and he was to find many +soldiers in camp younger even than this—pointed to a square two-story +house near the center of the town.</p> + +<p>Two sentries were on guard outside. One of these went inside with the +message of Yeager.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span> Presently he returned, relieved the American of his +revolver, and announced that the general would see him.</p> + +<p>Pasquale was at breakfast with one of his lieutenants, a slender young +man with black sleek hair who sat with his back to the door. From the +first moment that his eyes fell upon that lithe, graceful figure the +American knew that presently he would be looking into the face of Ramon +Culvera. A chill shudder passed through him for an instant. If the +gambler recognized him he was lost.</p> + +<p>But as yet Culvera had not taken the trouble to turn. He was eating a +banana indolently and stray Gringos did not greatly interest him.</p> + +<p>"You want to see me, señor," demanded Pasquale in Spanish.</p> + +<p>"I'm out of a job—thought maybe you could give me something to do. I +met Tom Neal. He figured you might."</p> + +<p>"In the army? Do you want to fight?"</p> + +<p>Pasquale leaned back in his chair and looked at his guest from narrowed +eyes that expressed intelligent energy and brutality. He was smiling, +but there was something menacing even about his smile. It struck Steve +that he was as simple, as natural, and about as humane as a wolf. He was +not tall, but there was unusual breadth and depth to his shoulders. +Something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span> of the Indian was in the high cheekbones of his rough, +unshaven, coffee-colored face. The old ruffian looked what he was, a +terrible man, one who could brush out a human life as lightly as he did +the ash from his cigar.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Perhaps. Can you give me a commission?"</p> + +<p>"Hmp!" The beadlike eyes of the bandit took in shrewdly the competence +of this quiet, brown-faced man. He might be a thief and a +murderer,—very likely was since he had crossed the border to join the +insurgents,—but it was a safe bet that he had the fighting edge. Men of +this particular stripe were needed to lick his tattered, nondescript +recruits into shape. "Where you from? Who knows you?"</p> + +<p>Culvera slewed round in his seat and glanced at the man standing behind +his chair. The indifference did not fade out of his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I've been with the Lunar Film Company. Before that I was riding for the +Lone Star cattle outfit," answered Yeager.</p> + +<p>The younger Mexican showed a flicker of interest. "The Lunar Film +Company? Do you know a man named Harrison, señor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And a boy named Pheelip Seymour?"</p> + +<p>"I've just met him. He doesn't work for the company."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span></p> + +<p>Culvera turned to his chief. "It is this Pheelip that shot Mendoza, he +and another Gringo."</p> + +<p>Pasquale nodded, still watching Yeager.</p> + +<p>"Know any military tactics?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"None—except to hit the other fellow first and hit him hardest."</p> + +<p>"And to hit him when he isn't looking. Those three things are all there +is to know about war—those three, and to keep your men fat." Pasquale's +momentary grin faded. "I'll give you a try-out for a week. If we like +each other we'll talk turkey about a commission. Eh, señor?"</p> + +<p>"Go you one. If we ain't suited we part company at the end of a week."</p> + +<p>The noted insurgent leader spoke English as well as he did Spanish. +Sometimes he talked in one language, sometimes in the other. Now he +relapsed into Spanish and asked Yeager to join them at breakfast.</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher sat down promptly. It had been three hours since he had +eaten lightly and he was as hungry as a Yukon husky. He observed that +Culvera's table manners were nice and particular, whereas those of his +chief, though they ate off silver taken from the home of a Federal +supporter during a raid, were uncouth in the extreme. He wolfed his +food, throwing it into his mouth from knife or fork as rapidly as he +could.</p> + +<p>Glancing up from his steak, Steve observed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span> the brooding eye of Culvera +upon him. Faint suspicions, recollections too vague as yet for +definiteness, were beginning to stir in the mind of the man. He had +taken on the look of wariness, masked by a surface smile, that his face +had worn the night of the shooting.</p> + +<p>Yeager's talk flowed on, easy, careless, unperturbed. His stories were +amusing Pasquale, and the old ruffian had a fondness for anybody that +could entertain him. But back of his debonair gayety Steve nursed a +growing unease. He was no longer dressed in the outfit of a cowpuncher, +but wore a gray street suit and a Panama straw hat. Culvera had caught +only a momentary glance at him the night they had faced each other +revolver in hand. Yet the American was morally convinced that given time +recognition would flash upon the young Mexican. Some gesture or +expression would betray him. Then the fat would be in the fire. And +Steve—where would he be?</p> + +<p>After breakfast Yeager rode out with Pasquale to review the troops. It +was an entirely informal proceeding. The youthful army was happily +engaged in loafing and in play. A bugle blew. There was an instant +scurry for horses. They swung into line, stood at attention, and at a +second blast charged yelling across the plain, serapes flying wild.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span></p> + +<p>Pasquale turned to Yeager with a gesture of his hand. "They are mine, +body and soul. They eat, sleep, starve, and die at my word. Is it not +so?"</p> + +<p>The charging line had wheeled and was coming back like the distant roll +of thunder. "Viva Pasquale!" they shouted as they galloped. Steve had a +momentary qualm lest they charge over him and their chief, but the tough +little horses were dragged to a halt five yards from them in a great +cloud of dust. Bullets zipped into the air in their wild enthusiasm. +Wild whoops and cheers increased the tumult.</p> + +<p>"Looks that way," agreed the American.</p> + +<p>Returning to the village, Steve observed a bunch of cattle a hundred +yards from the trail. A Mexican lad, half asleep, was herding them. +Immediately a devouring curiosity took hold of the cowpuncher. He wanted +to see the brand on those cattle. It struck him that the shortest way +was the quickest. He borrowed the field-glasses of Pasquale.</p> + +<p>As he lowered the glasses after looking through them, Yeager laughed. +"Funny how things come out. In this country cattle are like chips in a +poker game. They ain't got any home, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"Meaning, señor?" suggested the insurgent chief.</p> + +<p>"Meaning that less than a week ago I paid a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> perfectly good check of the +Lunar Company for that bunch of steers. We did aim to use them in some +roundup sets, but I expect you've got another use for them."</p> + +<p>"Si, señor."</p> + +<p>"Hope Harrison held you up for a good price," suggested the American +casually.</p> + +<p>Pasquale showed his teeth in a grin. "He was some anxious to unload in a +hurry—had to take the market he could find handy."</p> + +<p>"Looks like he was afraid the goods might spoil on his hands," Steve +commented dryly.</p> + +<p>"Maybeso. I didn't ask any questions and he didn't offer any +explanations. Fifteen gold on the hoof was what I agreed to pay. Were +you in on this with Harrison?"</p> + +<p>"I was and I wasn't. Me, I drove that bunch 'most forty miles, then he +held me up and took the whole outfit from me."</p> + +<p>Pasquale saw he had made a mistake and promptly lied. "It wasn't +Harrison I got them from at all—just wanted to see what you'd say."</p> + +<p>"Well, they didn't cost me a red cent. You're welcome to 'em as far as +I'm concerned. Slow elk suits me fine. I'll help you eat them while I'm +here, and that will be a week anyhow."</p> + +<p>"You're a good sport, Yeager, as you Gringos say. We'll get along like +brothers. Not so?"</p> + +<p>The revolutionary chief was an incessant card-player.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> He had a greasy +pack out as soon as they reached camp. Steve was invited to take a hand, +also Ramon Culvera and a fat, bald-headed Mexican of fifty named +Ochampa. Culvera, playing in luck, won largely from his chief, who +accepted his run of ill fortune grouchily. Pasquale had been a peon in +his youth, an outlaw for twenty years, and a czar for three. He was as +much the subject of his own unbridled passions as is a spoiled and +tyrannous child. Yeager, studying him, was careful to lose money with a +laugh to the old despot and equally careful to see that the chips came +back to him from Ochampa's side of the table.</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher knew fairly well the political rumors that were afloat in +regard to the situation in northern Mexico. Pasquale as yet was dictator +of the revolutionary forces, but there had been talk to the effect that +Ramon Culvera was only biding his time. Other ambitious men had aspired +to supplant Pasquale. They had died sudden, violent deaths. Ramon had +been a great favorite of the dictator, but it was claimed signs were not +lacking to show that a rupture between them was near. Watching them now, +Yeager could well believe that this might be true. Culvera was suave, +adroit, deferential as he raked in his chief's gold, but the +irritability of the older man needed only an excuse to blaze.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span></p> + +<p>A blue-denim trooper came into the room and stood at attention.</p> + +<p>Pasquale nodded curtly.</p> + +<p>"Señor Harrison to see the general," said the private in Spanish.</p> + +<p>A chill ran down the spine of the American. This was the last place in +the world that he wanted to meet Chad Harrison. A swift vision of +himself standing with his back to a wall before a firing line flashed +into his brain.</p> + +<p>But he was in for it now. He knew that the ex-prizefighter would +denounce him. A daredevil spirit of recklessness flooded up in his +heart. A smile both gay and sardonic danced in his eyes. Thus does +untimely mirth in the hour of danger drive away a sober, prayerful +gravity from the mien of such light-hearted sons of nature as Stephen +Yeager.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2><h3>A NIGHT VISIT</h3> +</div> + +<p>Harrison stood blinking in the doorway, having just come out from the +untempered sunlight in the street. He shook hands with the general, with +Culvera, and then his glance fell upon the American.</p> + +<p>"Fine glad day, ain't it?" Yeager opened gayly. "Great the way friends +meet in this little old world."</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here?" demanded the prizefighter, his chin jutting +forward and down.</p> + +<p>"Me! I'm losing my wad at stud. Want to stake me?"</p> + +<p>Harrison turned to Pasquale. "Know who he is? Know anything about him, +general?"</p> + +<p>"Only what he has told me, señor."</p> + +<p>"And that is?"</p> + +<p>"That he worked for the moving-picture company at Los Robles, that he is +out of a job, and that he wants to try the revolutionary game, as you +Americans say."</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe it. Don't believe a word of it," broke out Harrison +stormily. "He's a spy. That's what he is."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span></p> + +<p>Smiling, Steve cut in. "What have I come to spy about, Harrison?"</p> + +<p>"You told Threewit that you thought General Pasquale had those cattle. +You may deny it, but—"</p> + +<p>"Why <i>should</i> I deny it?" Yeager turned genially to the insurgent chief. +"<i>You</i> don't deny it, do you, general?"</p> + +<p>Pasquale laughed. He liked the cheek of this young man. "I deny nothing +and I admit nothing." He swept his hand around in a gesture of +indifference. "My vaqueros herd cattle I have bought. Possibly rustlers +sold them to me. Maybeso. I ask no questions."</p> + +<p>"Nor I," added Yeager promptly. "At least, not many. I eat the beef and +find it good. You ought to have got a good price for a nice fat bunch +like that, Harrison."</p> + +<p>"What d'you mean by that?" The man's fists were clenched. The rage was +mounting in him.</p> + +<p>"Forget it, Harrison! You've quit the company. You're across the line +and among friends. No use keeping up the bluff. I know who held me up. +If I'm not hos-tile about it, you don't need to be."</p> + +<p>The prizefighter flung at him the word of insult that no man in the +fighting West brooks. Before Steve could speak or move, Pasquale +hammered the table with his heavy, hairy fist.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span></p> + +<p>"Maldito!" he roared. "Is it so you talk to my friends in my own house, +Señor Harrison?"</p> + +<p>The rustler, furious, turned on him. But even in his rage he knew better +than to let his passion go. The insurgent chief was more dangerous than +dynamite in a fire. Purple with anger, Harrison choked back the volcanic +eruption.</p> + +<p>"Friend! I tell you he's a spy, general. This man killed Mendoza. He's +here to sell you out."</p> + +<p>The sleek black head of Culvera swung quickly round till his black eyes +met the blue ones of Yeager. He flung his hand straight out toward the +Anglo-Saxon.</p> + +<p>"Mil diablos! What a dolt I am. It's the very man, and I've been racking +my brain to think where I met him before."</p> + +<p>Yeager laughed hardily. "I've got a better memory, señor. Knew you the +moment I set eyes on you, though it was some smoky when we last met."</p> + +<p>Culvera rose, his knuckles pressing against the table. There was a faint +smile of triumph, on his masked, immobile face.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Señor Yeager," he said softly. "After all, it's a world full +of hardship and unpleasantness. You're well rid of it."</p> + +<p>Steve knew his sole appeal lay in Pasquale. Ochampo was a nonentity. +Both Harrison and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> Culvera had already condemned him to death. He turned +quietly to the insurgent leader.</p> + +<p>"How about it, general? Do I get a pass to Kingdom Come—because I stood +by a half-grown kid when two blacklegs were robbing him?"</p> + +<p>"You shot Mendoza, eh?" demanded Pasquale, his heavy brows knit in a +frown.</p> + +<p>"No; I helped the boy escape who did."</p> + +<p>"You were both employed by the enemy to murder him and Culvera—not so?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the sort. Young Seymour was in a poker game with Culvera and +Mendoza. They were cross-lifting him—and playing with a cold deck at +that. I warned the kid. They began shooting. I could have killed either +of them, but I blew out the lights instead. In self-defense the boy shot +Mendoza. We escaped through the door. The trouble was none of our +seeking."</p> + +<p>Culvera shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands in a gesture of +bland denial. "Lies! All lies, general. Have I not already told you the +truth?"</p> + +<p>Coldly Pasquale pronounced judgment. "What matter which one shot +Mendoza. Both were firing. Both escaped together. Both are equally +guilty." He clapped his hands. A trooper entered. "'Tonio, get a guard +and take this man to prison. See that he is kept safe. To-morrow at dawn +he will be shot."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span></p> + +<p>The trooper withdrew. Pasquale continued evenly. "We have one rule, +Señor Yeager. He who kills one of us is our enemy. If we capture him, +that man dies. Fate has shaken the dice and they fall against you. So be +it. You pay forfeit."</p> + +<p>Yeager nodded. He wasted no breath in useless protest against the +decision of this man of iron. What must be, must. A plea for mercy or +for a reversal of judgment would be mere weakness.</p> + +<p>"If that's the way you play the game there's no use hollering. I'll take +my medicine, because I must. But I'll just take one little flyer of a +guess at the future, general. If you don't put friend Culvera out of +business, it will presently be, 'Good-night, Pasquale.' He's a right +anxious and ambitious little lieutenant, I shouldn't wonder."</p> + +<p>Harrison triumphed openly. He followed out of the house the file of +soldiers who took his enemy away.</p> + +<p>"Told you I'd git even a-plenty, didn't I?" he jeered. "Told you I'd +make you sweat blood, Mister Yeager. Good enough. You'll see me in a box +right off the stage to-morrow morning when the execution set is pulled +off. Adios, my friend!"</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher was thrust into a one-room, flat-roofed adobe hut. The +door was locked and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span> a guard set outside. The prison had for furniture a +three-legged stool and a rough, home-made table. In one corner lay a +couple of blankets upon some straw to serve for a bed. The walls of the +house, probably a hundred years old at least, were of plain, unplastered +adobe. The fireplace was large, but one glance up the narrow chimney +proved the futility of any hope of escape in that direction.</p> + +<p>He was caught, like a rat in a trap. Yet somehow he did not feel as if +it could be true that he was to be taken out at daybreak and shot. It +must be some ridiculous joke Fate was playing on him. Something would +turn up yet to save him.</p> + +<p>But as the hours wore away the grim reality of his position came nearer +home to him. He had only a few hours left. From his pocket he took a +notebook and a pencil. It was possible that Pasquale would let him send +a letter through to Threewit if it gave some natural explanation of his +death, one that would relieve him of any responsibility. Steve tore out +a page and wrote, standing under the little shaft of moonlight that +poured through the small barred window:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style='text-align: left'>Fifteen minutes ago [so he wrote] I accidentally shot myself while +target-practicing here in camp. They say I won't live more than a +few hours. By<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> the courtesy of General Pasquale I am getting a +letter through to you, which is to be sent after my death. Give +bearer ten dollars in gold.</p> + +<p>Say good-bye for me to Frank, Daisy, and the rest. <i>Bust up that +marriage if you can</i>.</p> + +<p>Adios, my friend.</p> + +<p style='text-align: right'><span class="smcap">Steve Yeager</span>.</p></div> + +<p>He was searching in his pocket for an envelope when there came a sound +that held him rigid. Some one was very carefully unlocking the door of +his prison from the outside. Stealthily he drew back into the deep +shadow at the farther end of the room, picking up noiselessly by one leg +the stool by the table. It was possible that some one had been sent to +murder him.</p> + +<p>The grinding of the key ceased. Slowly the door opened inch by inch. A +man's head was thrust through the opening. After a long time of silence +a figure followed the head and the door was closed again.</p> + +<p>"You may put down that weapon, Señor Yeager. I have not come to knife +you."</p> + +<p>The lower half of the man's face was covered by a fold of his serape, +the upper part was shaded by his sombrero. Only the glittering eyes +could be plainly seen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why have you come?"</p> + +<p>"To talk with you—perhaps to save you. Quien sabe?"</p> + +<p>Yeager put down the stool and gave it a shove across the floor. "Will +you take a seat, general? Sorry I can't offer you refreshments, but the +truth is I'm not exactly master in my own house."</p> + +<p>Pasquale dropped the serape from his face and moved forward. "So you +knew me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"How much will you give for your life?" demanded the Mexican abruptly, +sitting down on the stool with his back to the table.</p> + +<p>"As much as any man."</p> + +<p>The general eyed him narrowly. One sinewy brown hand caressed the butt +of a revolver hanging at his hip.</p> + +<p>"Who paid you to murder Culvera and Mendoza—not Farrugia, surely?" +Pasquale shot at him, eyes gleaming under shaggy brows.</p> + +<p>Garcia Farrugia was the Federal governor of the province, the general +with whom Pasquale had been fighting for a year.</p> + +<p>"No—not Farrugia."</p> + +<p>The insurrecto chief, sprawling in the moonlight with his back against +the table, nodded decisively.</p> + +<p>"I thought as much. He's no fool. Garcia<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> knows it would not weaken me +to lose both of them, that my grief would not be inconsolable. Who, +then, if not Farrugia?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody. I'm not an assassin. The story I told you is the truth, +general."</p> + +<p>"If that is true, Ramon Culvera's lies have brought you to your death."</p> + +<p>The Mexican still sprawled with an arm flung across the table. Not a +muscle of his lax body had grown more taut. But the eyes of the man—the +terrible eyes that condemned men to their graves without a flicker of +ruth—were fixed on the range-rider with a steady compulsion filled with +hidden significance.</p> + +<p>"Yes." Steve waited, alert and watchful. Presently he would understand +what this grim, virile old scoundrel was driving at.</p> + +<p>"You fought him in the open. You played your cards above the table. He +comes back at you with a cold deck. Señor, do you love Ramon like a +brother?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not. If I could get at him before—"</p> + +<p>The rigor of the black eyes boring into those of Yeager did not relax. +The impact of them was like steel grinding on steel.</p> + +<p>"Yes? If you could get at him? What, then, señor?"</p> + +<p>The words were hissed across the room at the American. Pasquale was no +longer lounging. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span> leaned forward, body tense and rigid. His prisoner +understood that an offer for his life was being made him. But what kind +of an offer? Just what was he to do?</p> + +<p>"Say it right out in plain United States talk, general. What is it you +want me to do?"</p> + +<p>"Would you kill Ramon Culvera—to save your own life?"</p> + +<p>After barely an instant's hesitation Steve answered. "Yep. I'll fight +him to a finish—any time, any place."</p> + +<p>"Bueno! But there will be no risk for you. He will be summoned from his +house to-night. You will stand in the darkness outside. One thrust of +the knife and—you will be avenged. A saddled horse is waiting for you +now in the cottonwood grove opposite. Before we get the pursuit started +you will be lost in the darkness miles away."</p> + +<p>The heart of Yeager sank. The thing he was being asked to do was plain +murder. Even to save his own life he could not set his hand to such a +contract.</p> + +<p>"I can't do that, general. But I'll pick a quarrel with him. I'll take a +chance on even terms."</p> + +<p>"No—no!" Pasquale's voice was harsh and imperative. "The dog is +plotting my murder. But first he wants to make sure he is strong enough +to succeed me. So he waits. But I—Gabriel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> Pasquale—I wait for no +man's knife. I strike first—and sure. You execute the traitor and save +your own life which is forfeit. Caramba! Are you afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Not afraid, but—"</p> + +<p>"You walk out of that door a free man. You give the password for +to-night. It is 'Gabriel.' You settle with the traitor and then ride +away to safety. Maldito! Why hesitate?"</p> + +<p>"Because I'm a white man, general. We don't kill in the dark and run +away. When I offer to fight him to a finish I go the limit—and then +some. For I don't hate Culvera that bad. But I think a heap of Steve +Yeager's life, so I'll stand pat on my proposition."</p> + +<p>"Am I a fool, señor?" asked the Mexican harshly. "How do I know you +would keep faith, that you would not ride away—what you call laugh in +your sleeve at me? No! You will strike under my own eye—with my +revolver at your heart. Then I make sure."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet you'd make sure. You'd shoot me down and explain it all fine +when your men came running. 'The Gringo dog escaped and killed my dear +friend Ramon, but by good luck I shot him before he made his getaway.' +Nothing doing."</p> + +<p>"Then you refuse?" Pasquale's narrowed eyes glittered in the moonshine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span></p> + +<p>"You're right I do."</p> + +<p>The Mexican rose. "Die like a dog, then, you pigheaded Gringo."</p> + +<p>"Just a moment, general. I've got a letter here I wish you'd send north +for me. It explains that I shot myself accidentally—lets you out fine +in case Uncle Sam begins to ask inconvenient whys about my +disappearance."</p> + +<p>"And why so much care to save me trouble?" inquired the insurgent leader +suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"I have to put that in to get you to forward the letter, I reckon. What +I want is that my friends should know I'm dead."</p> + +<p>As a soldier Pasquale could understand that desire. He hesitated. The +sudden death of Americans had of late stirred a good deal of resentment +across the line. Why not take the alibi Yeager so conveniently offered +him?</p> + +<p>"Let's see your letter. But remember I promise nothing," said the +Mexican roughly.</p> + +<p>Steve moved forward and gave it to him. His heart was pounding against +his ribs as does that of a frightened rabbit in the hand. If Pasquale +looked at the letter now he had a chance. If he put it in his pocket the +chance vanished.</p> + +<p>The rebel chief glanced at the sheet of paper, opened it, and stepped +back into the moonlight. For just an instant his eyes left Yeager and +fell upon the paper. That moment belonged to Steve.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> Like a tiger he +leaped for the hairy throat of the man.</p> + +<p>Pasquale, with a half-articulate cry, stumbled back. But the American +was on top of him, his strong, brown fingers were tightening on the +sinewy throat. They went down together, the Mexican underneath. As he +fell, the head of the general struck the edge of the table. The steel +grip of Steve's hand did not relax, for a single sharp cry would mean +death to him.</p> + +<p>Just once Pasquale rolled half over before his body went slack and +motionless. He had fainted.</p> + +<p>The first thing Yeager did was to take the bandanna handkerchief from +his neck and use it as a gag for his prisoner. He dragged the blankets +from their corner and tore one of them into strips. With these he bound +the hands of Pasquale behind him and tied his feet together. He +unloosened the revolver belt of the Mexican and strapped it about his +own waist. The silver-trimmed sombrero he put on his head and the serape +he flung round his shoulders and across the lower part of his face in +the same way the garment had been worn by its owner.</p> + +<p>Steve glanced around to see that he had everything he needed.</p> + +<p>"They's no manner o' doubt but you're taking a big chancet, son," he +drawled to himself after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> the manner of an old range-rider he knew. "But +we sure gotta take a long shot and gamble with the lid off. Any man who +stops S. Yeager to-night is liable to find him a bad hombre. So-long, +general."</p> + +<p>He opened the door and stepped out. His heart was jumping queerly. The +impulse was on him to cut across to the cottonwood grove on the dead +run, but he knew this would never do. Instead, he sauntered easily into +the moonlight with the negligence of one who has all night before his +casual steps.</p> + +<p>The sharp command of the guard outside slackened his stride.</p> + +<p>"Gabriel," he called back over his shoulder without stopping.</p> + +<p>"Si, señor. Buenos tardes."</p> + +<p>"Buenos."</p> + +<p>He moved at a leisurely pace down the street until he was opposite the +cottonwoods. Here he diverged from the dusty road.</p> + +<p>"Hope the old scalawag wasn't lying about that cavallo waiting for +Steve. I'm plumb scairt to death till I get out of this here wolf's den. +Me, I'm too tender to monkey with any revolutions. I've knowed it happen +frequent that a man got his roof blowed off for buttin' in where he +wasn't invited." He was still impersonating the old cowman as a vent to +his excitement, which found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> no expression in the cool, deliberate +motions of his lithe body.</p> + +<p>He found the horse in the cottonwoods as Pasquale had promised. Swinging +to the saddle, he cantered down the road to the outskirts of the +village. A sentinel stopped him, and a second time he gave the +countersign. He was just moving forward again when some one emerged from +the darkness back of the sentry and sharply called to him to stop.</p> + +<p>Steve knew that voice, would have known it among a thousand. Since he +had no desire at this moment to hold a conversation with Ramon Culvera +he drove his heels into the side of the cow pony. The horse leaped +forward just as a revolver rang out. So close did the shot come to +Yeager that it lifted the sombrero from his head as he dodged.</p> + +<p>After he was out of range Yeager laughed. "Pasquale gets his hat back +again—ventilated. Oh, well, it's bad enough to be a horse-thief without +burglarizing a man's haberdashery. You're sure welcome to it, Gabriel."</p> + +<p>He kept the horse at a gallop, for he knew he would be pursued. But his +heart was lifted in him, for he was leaving behind him a shameful death. +All Sonora lay before him in which to hide, and in front of him +stretched a distant line beyond which was the U.S.A. and safety.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span></p> + +<p>The bench upon which he was riding dropped to a long roll of hills +stretching to the horizon. The chances were a hundred to one that among +these he would be securely hidden from the pursuit inside of an hour.</p> + +<p>"Git down in yore collar to it, you buckskin," he urged his pony +cheerfully. "This ain't no time to dream. You got to travel some, +believe me. Steve played a bum hand for all it was worth and I can see +where he's right to hit the grit some lively. Burn the wind, you +buzzard-haid."</p> + +<p>An hour later he drew his pony to a road gait and lifted his head to the +first faint flush of a dawning day. He sang softly, because by a miracle +of good fortune that coming sun brought him life and not death. The song +he caroled was, "When Gabriel blows his horn in the mawnin'."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2><h3>CHAD DECIDES TO GET BUSY</h3> +</div> + +<p>After his failure to stop Yeager's escape, Culvera lost no time before +starting a party in pursuit. He knew there was small chance of finding +the American in that rolling sea of hills, but there was at least no +harm in making the attempt.</p> + +<p>As he walked to Pasquale's headquarters to make a report of the affair, +Culvera's mind was full of vague suspicions. How had this man escaped? +Had the old general freed him for some purpose of his own? Ramon had +seen condemned prisoners released by his chief before. Always within a +short time some enemy or doubtful friend of Pasquale had died a violent +death. Was it his turn now? Could it be that Pasquale was anticipating +his treachery?</p> + +<p>To learn that the general was out at three o'clock in the morning lent +no reassurance to his fears. After a moment's consideration the young +man turned his steps toward the house where Yeager had been confined. +But before starting he stopped in the shadow of a barn to see that his +revolvers were loose in the scabbards and in good working order. Nor did +he cross the moonlit open direct, but worked to his destination<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> by a +series of tacks that kept him almost all the time in the darkness.</p> + +<p>The seventeen-year-old sentry was still doing duty outside the prison. +At sight of Culvera he stopped rolling a cigarette to snatch up his +rifle and fling a challenge at him.</p> + +<p>"How is it that you have let your prisoner escape?" demanded the officer +in Spanish after he had given the countersign.</p> + +<p>"Escape? No, señor. Listen. Do you not hear him move?" replied in the +boy in the same tongue. "I think the Gringo is having a fit. For +ten—twenty—minutes he has beat on the floor and kicked at the walls. +To die at daybreak is not to his liking."</p> + +<p>"Mil diablos! I tell you I saw him ride away. It is some one else in +there."</p> + +<p>"Some one else! But, no—that is impossible. Who else could it be?" As +he asked the question the boy's jaw fell slack. A horrible suspicion +pushed itself into his mind.</p> + +<p>"Estupido!" he continued in growing terror. "Can it be—the general?"</p> + +<p>"We shall see."</p> + +<p>Culvera stepped to the door. It was locked and the key gone. He called +aloud. His only answer was a strange, muffled sound like a groan and the +beating of feet upon the floor.</p> + +<p>With the butt of the sentry's rifle he hammered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> in the door at the lock +and by exerting all his strength forced the fastening. Lying in the +middle of the room, bound hand and foot, with his furious face upturned +to the moonlight, was Gabriel Pasquale. Culvera asked no foolish +questions, wasted no time. Kneeling beside his superior officer, he cut +the handkerchief that gagged him and the ropes that tied his limbs. +Together Ramon and the guard lifted him to his feet and held him for a +moment until his legs regained their power.</p> + +<p>"What devil has done this outrage?" asked Ramon.</p> + +<p>For a time Pasquale could only swallow and grunt. When the power of +speech returned, he broke into fierce and terrible maledictions. His +lieutenant listened in silence, extreme concern in his respectful face, +an unholy amusement bubbling up behind the deferential exterior.</p> + +<p>"Then it was the Gringo?" he asked when his chief ran out of breath and +for the moment ceased cursing.</p> + +<p>The insurgent leader went off into another explosion of rage. He would +cut his heart out while the American devil was still alive. He would +stake him out on the desert to broil to death beneath a Mexican sun.</p> + +<p>Culvera showed the hat that he had punctured with his bullet. "Thus near +I came to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> avenging you, general. See! One inch lower and I would have +taken off the top of his head. Already Fuentes is pursuing him. Perhaps +this Yeager may be dragged back to justice."</p> + +<p>Culvera asked no questions as to why the general was alone with a +condemned man at such an hour nor as to how the American had succeeded +in overpowering him. He understood that his chief's wounded vanity was +torturing the man enough to render curiosity unsafe. But the boyish +sentry did not know this. He ventured on a sympathetic question.</p> + +<p>"But, señor, Your Excellency, how did this Gringo devil, who was +unarmed, take away your revolver and tie you?"</p> + +<p>Pasquale, teeth clenched, whirled upon him. "You—dog of a peon—let +your prisoner walk away without a challenge and then dare to question +<i>me</i>!"</p> + +<p>The old soldier's fist shot out like a pile-driver. The blow lifted the +boy from his feet and flung him like a sack of meal against the wall. +His body hung there a moment, then dropped to the ground. A faint groan +was the only sound that showed he was not unconscious.</p> + +<p>The general strode from the room, Culvera at his heels. The brown mask +of his face told no stories of how the younger man was enjoying +himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span></p> + +<p>Before he slept, Ramon had one more pleasant task before him. He roused +Harrison to tell him the news. He sat smiling on the foot of the bed, +his eyes mocking the startled face of the prizefighter.</p> + +<p>"I come to bring you good news, señor," he jeered. "Your countryman has +escaped."</p> + +<p>Harrison sat up in bed. "What's that? Escaped, did you say? Where to?"</p> + +<p>The Mexican swept one arm around airily. "How should I know? He's +gone—broke out. He's taken a horse with him."</p> + +<p>"A horse!" repeated Harrison stupidly.</p> + +<p>"Just so—a horse. To ride upon, doubtless, since he was in somewhat of +a hurry. Odd that a horse happened to be waiting saddled for him at two +in the morning. Not so?"</p> + +<p>The American groped toward the point. "You mean—that he had friends, +that some one helped him to get away?"</p> + +<p>The other man shrugged his shoulders. "Do I? Quien sabe? Anyhow, he's +gone. Must be very disappointing to you, since you had promised yourself +to see his translation to heaven at sunrise."</p> + +<p>Harrison expressed himself bitterly in language emphatic and profane.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Culvera smiled pleasantly and sympathetically. "You run +Pasquale a close<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> second. He cursed the roof off when he found breath."</p> + +<p>"I'm not through with Yeager yet. Believe <i>me</i>, he'll have one +heluvatime before I'm done," boasted the prizefighter savagely.</p> + +<p>"You're still in entire accord with the chief. Yet our friend the Gringo +rides away in safety and laughs at you both. Ramon Culvera takes his hat +off to Señor Yeager. He has played a winning game with courage and +brains."</p> + +<p>"I beat his fool head off when he joined the Lunar Company—the very day +he joined. When I meet up with him again, I'll repeat," Harrison +bragged, hammering the pillow with his clenched fist.</p> + +<p>The Mexican looked politely incredulous. "Maybeso. This I say only. +Yeager has played one game with Pasquale, one with you, and one with me. +He comes out best each time. Of a sureness he is a strong man, wise, +cool, resourceful. Is it not so?"</p> + +<p>The prizefighter sputtered with wounded vanity. "Him! The boob's nothing +but a lucky guy. You'd ought to 'a' seen him after I fixed his map that +first day. Down and out he was, take my word for it."</p> + +<p>"If Señor Harrison says so," assented Culvera with polite mockery. "But +as you say, he laughs best who laughs last. And that reminds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> me. He +left a note to be forwarded a friend. Pasquale was too crazy mad to see +it, so I put it in my pocket."</p> + +<p>He handed to the other man the note Steve had written for Threewit. The +prizefighter read it in the dim light laboriously.</p> + +<p>"It was written, you perceive, before Pasquale shoved his big head into +a trap and gave him a chance to escape," explained the insurgent +officer.</p> + +<p>As Harrison read, certain phases of the situation arranged themselves +before his dull mind. He was acutely disappointed at the escape of his +enemy, since it was not likely the man would ever be caught again so +neatly. But now he forced himself to look beyond this to the +consequences. Yeager would tell all he knew when he reached Los Robles. +With the troopers warned against him Harrison knew he could no longer +move to and fro as freely on the American side. The very fact that he +was a suspect would greatly hamper his dealings. The Seymours would +probably turn against him for betraying the man who had risked his life +to save Phil from the effects of his folly. And what about Ruth? He knew +he held her by fear of trouble to Phil and by means of a sort of +magnetic clamp he had always imposed upon her will. Would she throw him +over now after she heard the story of the cowpuncher?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span></p> + +<p>His eyes were still fastened sulkily on the note while he was slowly +realizing these things. One line seemed to stand out from the rest.</p> + +<p style='margin-left: 2em;'><i>Bust up that marriage if you can</i>.</p> + +<p>Harrison ground his teeth with impotent rage. This range-rider always +had interfered with his affairs from the first moment he had met him. If +ever he got the chance again to stamp him out—! The strong fingers of +the man worked with the nervous longing to tighten on the throat of the +gay youth who had worsted him in the duel the prizefighter had forced +upon him. The cowpuncher had introduced himself by knocking him down. A +few hours later he had turned a bruised and bleeding face up to him and +laughed without fear as if it were of no consequence.</p> + +<p>Yeager had stolen from him his reputation as a daring rider and a good +shot. He had driven him from the Lunar Company. Now he was going back to +spoil his plans for making money by rustling American stock and sending +contraband goods across the line. Not only that; he was going to take +from him the girl he was engaged to marry.</p> + +<p>"By God! I'll give him a run for it," the prizefighter announced +savagely and suddenly.</p> + +<p>"For what?" asked Culvera maliciously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span></p> + +<p>"My business," retorted Harrison harshly, reaching for his clothes.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later he was galloping toward the north. If he could reach +Los Robles before Yeager did, he would turn a trick that would still +leave the odds in his favor.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2><h3>INTO THE DESERT</h3> +</div> + +<p>Ruth was baking apple pies in the kitchen. In her eyes there was a smile +and there were little dimples near the corners of her mouth. Evidently +she was thinking of something pleasant. Her nimble fingers ran around +the edge of the upper crust with a fork and scalloped a design. At odd +moments she would burst into a little rhapsody of song that appeared to +bubble out of her heart.</p> + +<p>Some one stepped into the doorway and shut out the sunlight. Her +questioning glance lifted, to meet the heavy frown of the man to whom +she was engaged. At sight of him the sunshine was extinguished from her +face, just as it had seemed to be from the room when his broad shoulders +had filled the opening.</p> + +<p>"You—Chad!" she cried. "I thought—"</p> + +<p>"Well, I ain't. I'm here," he broke in roughly. "And you don't look glad +to death to see me either."</p> + +<p>Her gentle eyes reproached him. "You're always welcome. You know that."</p> + +<p>His harsh face softened a little as he stepped forward and kissed her. +"Maybe I do, but maybe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> I like to hear you say so. Girl, I've come to +take you with me."</p> + +<p>"With you? Where?" Alarm was in the eyes that flashed to meet his.</p> + +<p>"To Noche Buena."</p> + +<p>"But—what for?"</p> + +<p>"Ain't it reason enough that I want you to go? We can get married at +Arixico to-night."</p> + +<p>She broke into protest disjointed and a little incoherent. "You promised +me that—that I could have all the time I wanted. You said—you said—"</p> + +<p>"That was when I was here to look after you. But I'll be staying in +Sonora quite a while the way my business affairs look. I need you—and +what's the sense of waiting, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"No—no! I don't want to—not now. Please don't ask it, Chad, I—I don't +want to get married—yet."</p> + +<p>Sobs began to choke up her voice. Tears welled up in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why you don't," he insisted sullenly. "Ain't trying to back +out, are you?"</p> + +<p>"No, but—"</p> + +<p>"You better not," he retorted with a threatening look. "I ain't the kind +of man it's safe to jilt."</p> + +<p>"You promised me all the time I wanted," she repeated. "You wouldn't +hurry me. That was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> what you said," she sobbed, breaking down suddenly.</p> + +<p>"All right," he conceded ungraciously. "I'm not forcing you to marry me +now. But I thought it best, seeing as I've got to ask you to go with me, +anyhow. O' course I can put you in charge of Carmen to chaperon you. +She's the woman that keeps house for Pasquale. But it kinder seemed to +me it would be better if you went as my wife. Then I could take care of +you."</p> + +<p>"Go with you—now? What do you mean, Chad?"</p> + +<p>"It's this fellow Yeager. He's shot himself, and he wants to see you +before he dies." From his pocket he took the note Steve had written to +Threewit and handed it to Ruth. "You don't have to go, but I hate to +turn down a fellow when he's all in and ready to quit the game."</p> + +<p>She read the note, her face like chalk. Not for a moment did she doubt +that the cowpuncher had written it. Even if her mind had harbored any +vague suspicions one line in the letter would have swept them away. +<i>Bust up that marriage if you can</i>. She knew to what marriage he +referred. Nobody but Yeager could have written those words.</p> + +<p>"But he says—he says"—her voice shook, but she forced herself to go +on—"that this letter isn't to be sent until his death."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yep. So it does. But he got to asking for you. So I just lit out to +give you a chance to go if you want to. It's up to you. Do just as you +please."</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll go. Is he—is he as bad as he says?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty bad, the doc says. But I reckon he's good for a day or two. My +advice would be to start right away, though, if you want to see him +alive."</p> + +<p>"Yes. That would be best. I'll see mother now." She stopped at the door +and leaned against the jamb a little faintly, then turned toward him. +"It was fine of you to come, Chad. I know you don't like him. But—I +won't forget."</p> + +<p>"Oh, tha's all right," he mumbled.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Mr. Threewit yet?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Threewit—no." He was for a moment puzzled at her question. "No—he's +out getting a set somewheres in the hills."</p> + +<p>Ruth came back and took the note from Harrison's reluctant fingers. "He +ought to get this at once. I'll send Billie Brown out with it. He'll +explain to Mr. Threewit about us going on ahead and not waiting for +him."</p> + +<p>The prizefighter did not quite like the idea. He would rather have kept +the note himself and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> burnt it later. But it was out of his charge now. +Without stirring doubts he could not make any objection. Anyhow, he +would be in Sonora and safely married to Ruth long before the deception +was discovered.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Seymour made her protest against such an unconventional trip, but +Ruth rode her objections down after the fashion of American girls.</p> + +<p>"Why can't I go for a ride with the man to whom I'm engaged? What's +wrong with it? I'll stay with the lady that keeps house for General +Pasquale. In two or three days I'll be back. Don't say no, mommsie." +Her voice broke a little as she pleaded the cause. "He's dying—Mr. +Yeager is—and he wants to see me. I'd always blame myself if I didn't +go. I've just got to go."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why you have to go riding all over the country to see one +man when you're engaged to another. In my time—"</p> + +<p>"If Chad doesn't object, why should you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know you'll go. I suppose it's all right, but I wish Phil could +go with you too."</p> + +<p>"So do I, but of course he can't. Chad says that affairs are so +disturbed across the line that probably the Government won't make Phil +any trouble, but that if he showed himself in Sonora some of the friends +of that man Mendoza would be sure to kill him."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so." Mrs. Seymour sighed. Her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> harum-scarum young son was on +her mind a good deal. "Now, don't you fret, honey, about Steve Yeager. +He's the kind of man that will take a lot of killing. A man who has +lived outdoors in the saddle for a dozen years is liable to get over a +wound that would finish some one else."</p> + +<p>In his haste to reach Los Robles before Yeager the prizefighter had +ruined the horse he rode. He picked up another one cheap and got for +Ruth her brother's pony. Within an hour of his arrival the two animals +were brought round for the start.</p> + +<p>The mother, still a little troubled in her mind, took Harrison aside for +a last word.</p> + +<p>"Chad Harrison, you look after my little girl and see no harm comes to +her. If anything happens to her I'll never forgive you."</p> + +<p>"Rest easy about that, Mrs. Seymour. You don't think any more of Ruth +than I do. If I thought there was any danger I sure wouldn't take her. +She'll come back to you safe and sound," he promised.</p> + +<p>They rode away in the afternoon sunlight toward the south. It had been +understood that they were to spend the night at the Lazy B Ranch, but at +the point where the road for the ranch deflected from the main pike +Harrison drew rein.</p> + +<p>"Too bad there isn't another ranch farther on. It's a little better than +six o'clock now. We'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> lose a heap of time by stopping here. Soon the +moon will be out and we could keep going till we reach Lone Tree Spring. +Stopping there for two or three hours' rest, we could ride in to Noche +Buena by breakfast time. But I reckon you're tired, ain't you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not—not a bit," she answered eagerly. "Let's go on. It's cooler +traveling in the evening, anyhow."</p> + +<p>He appeared to hesitate, then shook his head. "No—o, I expect that +wouldn't be proper. If you was a boy instead of a girl I'd say sure."</p> + +<p>"Don't let's be silly, Chad," she pleaded. "We want to get there as soon +as we can. It makes no difference if I am a girl."</p> + +<p>"I promised your maw I'd take good care of you. Would it be doing that +to let you stay up 'most all night?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it would. We can sleep some at Lone Tree. I want to go on, +Chad."</p> + +<p>"All right," he conceded with a manner of reluctance.</p> + +<p>This was what Harrison desired. If Yeager reached Los Robles before +night a search party would be sent out. It would go straight toward the +Lazy B. Chad wanted to get across the line and put as many miles as +possible between him and the pursuit.</p> + +<p>Deep into the desert they struck, keeping for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> the most part to a rapid +road gait. The dusty miles spun out behind them as they covered white +sunbaked levels, cut across rough hillsides of rubble, dipped into sandy +washes, and wound forward through wastes of cactus and zacaton.</p> + +<p>By the time the moon was riding high in the heavens Ruth was very tired. +Her shoulders drooped and she clung to the pommel of the saddle. But she +did not ask Chad to stop and let her rest. She would rather have been +whipped than have confessed exhaustion. Whenever she thought he might be +looking at her, the weary shoulders straightened with a pathetic attempt +at jauntiness.</p> + +<p>The man knew how completely fagged she was. Riding behind her through +the silver night, his greedy eyes noted her game struggle not to give +in. He saw the flowing lines of the girlish figure relax with fatigue. +No longer was the gallant little dusky head poised lightly above the +flat straight back. But he made no offer to rest. It was essential that +they should get beyond any chance of capture by her friends. Once he had +her safely in his hands she might sleep round the clock undisturbed.</p> + +<p>It was midnight before they rode into the cottonwoods of Lone Tree +Spring. Chad lifted her, stiff and cold from lack of circulation, to the +ground. She clung to his coat sleeve for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> moment dizzily before she +limped forward to the live-oak that gave the place its name. The girl +sank down beside the water-hole with her back to the trunk of the tree.</p> + +<p>There was faint, humorous apology in the tired smile she lifted to the +man.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'm what the boys call a quitter, Chad," she decided.</p> + +<p>"You're a game little thoroughbred," he blurted out. "You're all in. +That's what's the matter with you. Never mind, little girl. I'll fix the +tarps so as you can get some sleep. When you wake you'll be good as +ever."</p> + +<p>"Don't let me sleep too long. Perhaps I'd better just rest."</p> + +<p>"No; take a couple of hours' sleep. I'll wake you when it's time to go."</p> + +<p>He brought the saddle blankets, spread them on the ground, and covered +them with his slicker. His coat served for a pillow. Above her he spread +a tarp and tucked the edges under.</p> + +<p>"You're good to me, Chad," she told him with a sleepy little smile.</p> + +<p>"I aim to be." He stooped and kissed her with a sudden passionate +impulse.</p> + +<p>Startled at his roughness, she drew back. "Don't ... please!"</p> + +<p>He rose abruptly. "Go to sleep," was his harsh command.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span></p> + +<p>A vague uneasiness that was almost fear stirred in her mind. She did not +know this man at all. Except for the merest surface commonplaces he was +a stranger to her. Yet she had promised to give her life into his +keeping. They were alone together in this moonlit night of stars, a +thousand miles from all the safeguards that had always hedged her soft +youth. After she had married him they would always be together. Even her +mother and Phil would be outsiders. So would all her friends—Daisy +Ellington and Frank Farrar ... and Steve Yeager if he lived. And he must +live. She affirmed that passionately, clung to the thought of it as a +drowning man does to a plank. He would get well—of course he would....</p> + +<p>And so she fell asleep.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2><h3>THE NIGHT TRAIL</h3> +</div> + +<p>Yeager rode into Los Robles an hour after Harrison and Ruth had left. He +turned in at the Lunar stables the pony Pasquale had so kindly donated +to his use and walked across town to the Seymour bungalow. Passing +through the garden and round the house, he disappeared without being +seen into the remodeled barn where he lodged.</p> + +<p>He felt bully. After an adventure that had been a close call he was back +home among friends who would be glad to see him. As he took his bath and +shaved and dressed he broke occasionally into a whistle of sheer +exuberant joy of life. He intended to surprise the folks by walking down +and taking his place with the others when the dinner bell rang. Daisy +Ellington would clap her hands and sparkle in her enthusiastic way. +Shorty would begin to poke fun at him. Mrs. Seymour would probably just +smile in her slow, motherly fashion and see that he got one of the +choice steaks. And Ruth—would she flash at him her swift dimpled smile +of pleasure? Or would she still be harboring malice toward him for +having warned her against Harrison?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span></p> + +<p>Steve waited until he thought they would be seated before he opened the +door and stepped into the dining-room. The effect was not at all what he +had expected. Daisy was the first to see him. She dropped her knife on +the plate with a clatter and gave a little scream. Shorty stopped a +spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth, as if he were waiting to have a +still picture of himself taken. His eyes stared and his jaw fell. Mrs. +Seymour, who was bringing a platter from the kitchen, stood stock-still +in the doorway. The expression, on her face arrested Yeager's smile.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with you all? Looks like you were seeing a ghost," he +said.</p> + +<p>"Where did you come from, Steve Yeager?" demanded Mrs. Seymour.</p> + +<p>"Me? Why, I came from my room—reached town an hour or so ago."</p> + +<p>Something cold clutched at the heart of the mother. "Where from? Weren't +you in Sonora?"</p> + +<p>"Sure I was. At Noche Buena. And I want to tell you that I've had enough +of that burg for quite some time."</p> + +<p>Daisy broke in. "Isn't it true that you were shot?"</p> + +<p>He turned to her, surprised. "How did you hear that story already. No, +it ain't true. I was to have been shot this mawnin', but I broke jail +and made a getaway."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span></p> + +<p>"But—your letter said you had shot yourself and couldn't live long. I +read it myself. Mr. Threewit showed it to me before he left."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Harrison told us it was true," corroborated Mrs. Seymour. She +knew something was wrong, but as yet she could not guess what.</p> + +<p>"Harrison! Has he been here?" asked Yeager sharply.</p> + +<p>"He and Ruth left this afternoon for Noche Buena. He said you wanted to +see her before you died and he showed us the letter you had written."</p> + +<p>The range-rider stood paralyzed. The truth flashed numbingly over his +brain.</p> + +<p>"Ruth—gone with Harrison—to Noche Buena," was all he could say.</p> + +<p>Again Daisy cut in, this time sharply. "Tell us your story, Steve. What +is it that's wrong?"</p> + +<p>In a dozen sentences he told it. They listened tensely. The mother was +the first to break the silence after he had finished. She began to sob. +Steve put an arm across her shoulder awkwardly.</p> + +<p>"Now, don't you, Mrs. Seymour. Don't you take on. We'll get right on his +trail." He turned abruptly to Orman. "Get horses saddled. We'll hit the +road right away. Daisy, call up Threewit and let him know. I'll take +your gat, Shorty."</p> + +<p>The edge of decision was in his voice. Nobody disputed the orders of +this lean, brown, sunbaked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span> youth with the alert, quiet, masterful eyes. +In his manner was something more deadly than threats. More than one of +those present thought he would not like to be Harrison.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Threewit has gone. He and Frank started for Noche Buena almost an +hour ago. They went because of your letter," explained Miss Ellington.</p> + +<p>"Good. We'll probably catch them. Jackson, find out if they went armed +and see that we all have rifles as well as six-guns. Get a move on you. +We'll start in ten minutes from the hotel."</p> + +<p>Within the stipulated time they were in the saddle. Steve looked his +posse over with an eye competent and vigilant. "Orman, you and Bob ride +straight to the Lazy B. Harrison gave it out he was going to stop there +for the night. Me, I think he was lying. If he hasn't been there, cut +acrost to Gila Creek and follow the bed. Jackson and Dan, you go +straight south for the old Pima water-hole and sweep along below the +edge of the mesa. I'll have a try more to the east. Mind, no slip-up, +boys. And don't forget Harrison wears his guns low. If you have to +shoot, aim to kill."</p> + +<p>Phil Seymour came running down the road. "What's this they're telling +about Ruth and Harrison?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Yeager had no time for explanations. He turned the boy over to one of +the others. "Tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span> him about it, Jackson. If he wants to go along, take +him with you and Dan. We'll all meet to-morrow noon at Sieber's Pass."</p> + +<p>He shot down the road at a gallop, leaving behind him a cloud of gray +dust. The others followed at a canter. Their horses had to cover many +miles before morning and there was no use in running them off their legs +at the start.</p> + +<p>Jackson, waiting for Phil to rope and saddle a pony, yelled a caution to +the others.</p> + +<p>"Keep yore shirts on, boys. This ain't no hundred-yard dash. Steve's +burnin' the wind because he's got to haid off Harrison from Pasquale's +camp. All we got to do is to drive him up to Steve."</p> + +<p>Phil cut out and roped a pony, then slapped on a saddle. Presently he +and Jackson were following the others down the dust-filled road.</p> + +<p>The boy spoke his fears aloud, endeavoring to reassure himself.</p> + +<p>"Chad won't hurt Ruth any. He wouldn't dare. This country won't stand +for that kind of a play with a girl. Arizona would hang him to the first +telegraph pole that was handy."</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher looked at him and spoke dryly. "I reckon the skunk's been +out of Arizona quite some time. He's in greaser land now, and I never +heard tell that Pasquale was so darned particular what his men did. Just +tie a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> knot in this: if Harrison reaches the insurrecto camp with yore +sister, she'll come back as his wife—or not at all."</p> + +<p>"By God! I'll kill Harrison at sight if he hurts a hair of her head," +the boy cried, a lump in his throat.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe you will, mebbe you won't. Chad ain't just what you'd call a +white man. He'll shoot out of the chaparral if he's pressed. Someone's +going to git hurt if we bump into Mr. Harrison. It won't be no picnic +a-tall to take him. He's liable to be more hos-tile than a nest of +yellow jackets."</p> + +<p>"Leave him to me if we come up with him. I'll shoot it out with him," +the boy cried wildly.</p> + +<p>Jackson grinned. "You're crazy with the heat, boy. What do you reckon I +bought chips in this game for? I want a crack at the coyote myself."</p> + +<p>Phil and Jackson caught up with old Dan a mile or so beyond the point +where the road to the Lazy B left the main traveled trail.</p> + +<p>"The other boys hitting the dust for the ranch?" asked Jackson.</p> + +<p>"Yep."</p> + +<p>"Yeager's got it right. They won't find Harrison there. He'll go through +with his play. Chad's no quitter."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span></p> + +<p>Dan nodded. He was a reticent man of about fifty-five with a bald head +and a face of wrinkled leather.</p> + +<p>"We'll git him sure," Phil spoke up, announcing his hope rather than his +conviction. "Steve knows what he's doing, you bet."</p> + +<p>Yeager himself was not so sure. Doubts tortured him as to the +destination of Harrison. Perhaps, after all, he might be making for some +refuge in the hills and not for Pasquale's headquarters. He knew that as +soon as word reached them the Lazy B riders would begin to comb the +desert in pursuit. But what were a dozen riders among these thousand +hill pockets of the desert? The best chance was to catch the man at some +one of the few water-holes. But if he pushed on at full speed the +chances were all in his favor considering the long start he had.</p> + +<p>The range-rider was astride the fastest horse in the Lunar stables. +Steve had taken his pick of the mounts, for his work was cut out for +him. Hitherto the luck had all been with Harrison. If Yeager had not met +one of the old Lone Star boys, now riding for the Hashknife outfit, and +stopped to join him in a long talk over their cigarettes, Steve would +have reached Los Robles in time to spoil the man's plan. Or if he had +gone direct to Mrs. Seymour instead of fooling away a good hour and a +half in his room, he would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> cut down his enemy's start by so much +golden time.</p> + +<p>Now all he could do was to get every foot of speed from his horse that +could be coaxed. He rode like a Centaur, giving with his lithe, supple +body to every motion of the animal. But though he took steep hillsides +of shale on the run, the pony slithering down in a slide of rubble like +a cat, the rider's alert eyes watched the footing keenly. He could +afford if necessary to break a leg himself, but he could not afford to +have the horse suffer such an accident. Not for nothing had he ridden on +the roundup for many years. Few men even in Arizona could have +negotiated safely such a bit of daredevil travel as he was doing this +night.</p> + +<p>His brains were busy, too, on the problem before him. Times and +distances he figured, took into account the animals Harrison and Ruth +were riding, estimated her strength and her companion's feverish haste +to reach safety with her. They would have to stop at a water-hole +somewhere, either on Gila Creek, or the old Pima camping-ground, or else +at Lone Tree Spring. The most direct route to Noche Buena was by Lone +Tree. Harrison was in a deuce of a hurry. Therefore he would choose the +shortest way. So Yeager guessed and hoped.</p> + +<p>His watch told him it was an hour past midnight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> when Steve drew close +to Lone Tree Spring. He was following a sandy wash into the soft bed of +which the hoofs of his horse sank without noise. They were perhaps two +hundred yards from the spring when the ears of his pony lifted. That was +enough for Yeager. He dismounted and trailed the reins, guessing that +the wind had brought the scent of other horses to his own. Quietly he +moved forward, rifle in hand ready for action.</p> + +<p>The heart of him jumped when he caught sight of two picketed horses +grazing on the bench above. He worked forward with infinite care along +the bank of the wash till he reached the first of the cottonwoods. From +here he could catch a glimpse of something huddled lying under the +live-oak. This no doubt was the sleeping girl. The figure of a heavy-set +man stood with his back to Yeager in silhouette against the skyline.</p> + +<p>Yeager crawled forward another fifteen yards. A twig snapped under his +knee. The figure in silhouette whirled. Steve rose at the same instant, +rifle raised to his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Don't move," he advised quietly.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2><h3>THE CAVE MEN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Harrison stared at him dumfounded, chin down and jutting, his hand +hovering longingly close to the butt of a revolver. He stood so for an +instant in silence, crouched and tense.</p> + +<p>"Damn you, so you're here," he said at last in a low, hoarse voice.</p> + +<p>"Don't make another pass like that or I'll plug you. Unbuckle that belt +and drop it. That's right. Now, kick it from you."</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" demanded the man under the gun savagely after he had +obeyed instructions.</p> + +<p>"You know what I want, you wolf." Steve moved forward till he was about +fifteen feet from the other. His eyes did not lift for a moment from the +man he covered.</p> + +<p>They glared at each other, two savage, primeval men with the murder lust +in their hearts. All that centuries of civilization had brought them was +just now quenched.</p> + +<p>Then the woman, the third factor in the triangle, stirred restlessly and +awoke. She looked at them incuriously from innocent eyes still heavy +with slumber. Gradually the meaning of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> the scene came home to her, and +with it a realization that Steve Yeager was standing before her in the +flesh.</p> + +<p>"You—here!" she cried, scarce believing.</p> + +<p>"The cur lied," explained the cowpuncher. "It was a frame-up to get you +in his power."</p> + +<p>"But your letter said—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind about that now. Go down into the wash and bring up my horse. +It needs water."</p> + +<p>She hesitated. "You're not going to hurt him, Steve?"</p> + +<p>"That's between him and me. Do as I say."</p> + +<p>Ruth scarcely recognized in this grim, hard-faced man with the blazing +eyes the gay youth whom she knew at home. She felt in his manner the +steel of compulsion. Without further protest she moved to obey him. She +was fearful of what was about to take place, but her heart leaped with +gladness. Steve was alive and strong. It was not true that he lay with +the life ebbing out of him, all the supple strength stolen from his +well-knit body. For the moment that was happiness enough.</p> + +<p>Harrison, watching with narrowed eyes the stone-wall face of his captor, +jeered at him hardily.</p> + +<p>"Now you got a strangle holt on me, what you aim to do?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm going to take you back to the boys that are combing these hills for +you. They'll do all that's done."</p> + +<p>The prisoner's sneer went out of commission. He did not need to ask what +Arizona cowpunchers would do to him under the circumstances.</p> + +<p>"I figured your size was about a twenty-two—not big enough to fight it +out alone with me. Once is a-plenty."</p> + +<p>The cave man's desire to beat down his enemy with his naked hands +smouldered fiercely in the cowpuncher's heart.</p> + +<p>"Step out in front of me and saddle those horses," he ordered.</p> + +<p>Harrison looked at him murderously. His mouth was an ugly, crooked gash. +Boiling with rage, he saddled, cinched, and watered the horses.</p> + +<p>Ruth had returned with Steve's pony. Her heart beat fast with +excitement. An instinct told her they were about to come to grips in +epic struggle.</p> + +<p>"You're mighty high-heeled now when you got a gun thrown on me. Put it +in the discard and I'll beat the life out o' you," threatened the +prizefighter.</p> + +<p>Not releasing the other man with his eyes, Yeager lent one hand to help +Ruth mount. He gave clear, curt instructions in a level voice.</p> + +<p>"Take all three horses and ride to the edge of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> the mesa. Wait there. +One of us—either him or me—will come up there after a while. If it's +him, take all the horses and light out. Keep the moon on your left and +ride straight forward till daybreak. You'll see a gash in the hills +about where the sun rises. That's Sieber's Pass. The boys will be +waiting for you. Understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but—What are you going to do, Steve?" she cried almost in a +whisper.</p> + +<p>"That's my business—and I'm going to attend to it. Keep your mind on +the directions I've given. If it's Harrison that comes up over the hill, +get right out with all the horses. Gimme your promise on that."</p> + +<p>Trembling, she gave it to him.</p> + +<p>"Don't you be afraid. No need of that. <i>It won't be him. It'll be me +that comes</i>. But if it should be him, don't let him get close. Shoot him +first. It will be to save you from worse than death. Have you got the +nerve to do it?"</p> + +<p>Something in his manner, in his voice, rang a bell in her heart. She +nodded, her throat too dry for speech.</p> + +<p>"All right. Go now. And don't make any mistake whatever you do. Follow +out exactly what I've told you."</p> + +<p>Again she promised. He handed to her the rifle. She rode away, taking +the other horses with her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span></p> + +<p>When she was out of sight in a dip of the draw, Harrison spoke.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it to be? I see you got your gats yet. Going to shoot me +down like a coyote?"</p> + +<p>"That's what you deserve. That's what you'd get if the Lazy B boys got +hold of you. But I'm going to kill you with my bare hands, you wolf."</p> + +<p>With what seemed a single motion of his hands he unbuckled the revolver +belt from his waist and flung it from him. Crouched like a tiger, he +moved slowly forward, the flow of his muscles rhythmic and graceful.</p> + +<p>The prizefighter could scarce believe his luck. He threw out his salient +chin and laughed triumphantly. "You damned fool! I've got you at last. +I've got you."</p> + +<p>Light as a panther, Yeager lashed out with his left and caught flush the +point of that protruding chin. The grinning head went back as if it had +been on hinges. Shoulders, buttocks, and heels hit the ground together. +The range-rider was on him as a terrier lights on a rat. Jarred though +his brains were, the instinct of self-preservation served the man +underneath. He half turned, flung an arm around the neck of his foe, and +clung tightly even while he covered up. Steve's fist hammered at the +back of the close-cropped head. The prizefighter swung over, face down,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> +rose to his hands and knees by sheer strength, then reached for his neck +grip again.</p> + +<p>Yeager eluded him, throwing all his weight forward to force his opponent +down again. Harrison gave suddenly. They rolled over and over, fighting +and clawing like wild cats, two bipeds in a death struggle as fierce and +ruthless as that between wolves or grizzlies. No words were spoken. They +were back in the primitive Stone Age before speech was invented. +Snarling and growling, they fought with an appalling fury.</p> + +<p>Presently they were back on their feet again. Toe to toe they stood, +rocking each other with sledgehammer blows. Blood poured from the beaten +faces of both. Harrison clinched. They staggered to and fro before they +went down heavily, Yeager underneath. The prizefighter thrust his right +forearm under the chin of his enemy and with his left thumb and middle +finger gouged at the eyes of the man beneath him. Steve's legs moved up, +encircled those of the rustler, and swiftly straightened. With a bellow +of pain Harrison flung himself free and clambered to his feet. The legs +of his trousers had been ripped open for a foot. Blood streamed from his +calves where the sharp rowels of the range-rider's spurs had torn the +flesh.</p> + +<p>They quartered over the ground many times<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> as they fought. Sometimes +they were on their feet slogging hard. Once, at least, they crouched +knee to knee. Lying on the ground, they struck no less furiously and +desperately. All sense of fair play, of sportsmanship, was gone. They +struggled to kill and not be killed.</p> + +<p>Their lungs labored heavily. They began to stagger as they moved. The +muscles of their arms lost their resilience. Their legs dragged as +though weighted. Harrison was, if a choice might be made, in worse case. +He was the stronger man, but he lacked the tireless endurance of the +other. Watching him with animal wariness, Yeager knew that the man who +went down first would stay down. His enemy was sagging at the knees. He +could with difficulty lift his arms. He fought only in spurts. All this +was true of himself, too. But somewhere in him was that dynamic will not +to be beaten that counted heavily as a reserve.</p> + +<p>The prizefighter called on himself for the last attack. He stumbled +forward, head down, in a charge. An aimless blow flung Steve against the +trunk of the live-oak. His arms thrashing wildly, Harrison plunged +forward to finish him. The cowpuncher ducked, lurched to one side. +Against the bark of the tree crashed the fist of the other, swinging him +half round.</p> + +<p>Yeager flung himself on the back of his foe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> Human bone and flesh and +muscle could do no more. The knees of Harrison gave and he sank to the +ground, his head falling in the spring. His opponent, breathless and +exhausted, lay motionless on top of him. For a time both lay without +stirring. The first to move was Steve. He noticed that the nose and +mouth of the senseless man lay beneath the water. By exerting all his +strength he pulled the battered head almost out of the water. Very +slowly and painfully he got to his feet. Leaning against the tree for +support, he looked down at the helpless white face of the man he had +hated so furiously only a few minutes earlier. That emotion had entirely +vanished. It was impossible to feel any resentment against that bruised +and bleeding piece of clay. Steve was conscious only of a tremendous +desire to lie down and go to sleep.</p> + +<p>He laved his face with water as best he could, picked up the belt he had +thrown away, and drunkenly climbed the hill toward Ruth.</p> + +<p>She cried out at sight of him with a heart of joy, but as he lurched +nearer she slid from the horse and ran toward him. Could this be the man +she had left but half an hour since so full of vital strength and youth? +His vest and shirt were torn to ribbons so that they did not cover the +mauled and bruised flesh at all. Every exposed inch of his head and body +had its wounds to show. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> was drenched with blood. The sight of his +face wrung her heart.</p> + +<p>"What did he do to you?" she cried with a sob, slipping an arm round his +waist to support him.</p> + +<p>"I said I'd be the one to come," he told her as he leaned against the +neck of his pony.</p> + +<p>"Oh, why did you do it?" And swiftly on the heels of that cry came the +thought of relief for him. "I'll get you water. I'll bathe your wounds."</p> + +<p>"No. We've got to get out of here. Any time some of Pasquale's men may +come. His camp is not far."</p> + +<p>"But you can't go like that. You're hurt."</p> + +<p>"That's all right. Nothing the matter with me. Can you get on alone?"</p> + +<p>"Can you?" she asked in turn, after she had swung to the saddle.</p> + +<p>He had to try it three times before he succeeded in getting into the +seat. So weak was he that as the horse moved he had to cling with both +hands to the pommel of the saddle to steady himself. Ruth rode close +beside him, all solicitude and anxiety.</p> + +<p>"You ought not to be riding. I know your wounds hurt you cruelly," she +urged in a grave and troubled voice.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I can stand the grief. When I've<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span> had a bath and a good sleep +I'll be good as new."</p> + +<p>She asked timidly the question that filled her mind. "Did you—What +about him?"</p> + +<p>"Did I kill him? Is that what you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"No, I reckon not. He was lying senseless when I left, but I expect +he'll come to."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope so ... I do hope so."</p> + +<p>He looked at her, asking no questions. Some men would have broken into +denunciation of the scoundrel, would have defended the course they had +followed. This man did neither the one nor the other. She might think +what she pleased. He had fought from an inner compulsion, not to win her +applause. No matter how she saw it he could offer no explanations or +apologies.</p> + +<p>"I hope so because—because of you," she continued. "Now I know him for +what he is. I'm through with him for always." Then, in a sudden burst of +frankness: "I never did trust him, really."</p> + +<p>"You've had good luck. Some women find out things too late," he +commented simply.</p> + +<p>After that they rode in silence, except at long intervals when she asked +him if he was in pain or too tired to travel. The lightening of the sky +for the coming dawn found them still in the saddle with the jagged +mountain line rising vaguely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span> before them in the darkness like a long +shadow. Presently they could make out the gash in the range that was +Sieber's Pass.</p> + +<p>"Some of the boys will be waiting there for us, I reckon," Steve said. +"They'll be glad to see you safe."</p> + +<p>"If I'm safe, they'll know who brought it about." Her voice trembled as +she hurried on: "I can't thank you. All I can say is that I understand +from what you saved me."</p> + +<p>He looked away at the distant hills. "That's all right. I had the good +luck to be in the right place. Any of the boys would have been glad of +the chance."</p> + +<p>After a time they saw smoke rising from a hollow in the hills. They were +climbing steadily now by way of a gulch trail. This opened into a draw. +A little back from the stream a man was bending over a camp-fire. He +turned his head to call to a second man and caught sight of them. It was +Orman. He let out a whoop of gladness when he recognized Ruth. Others +came running from a little clump of timber.</p> + +<p>Phil lifted his sister from the saddle and kissed her. He said nothing, +since he could not speak without breaking down.</p> + +<p>Jackson looked at Steve in amazement. "You been wrastling with a +circular saw?" he asked.</p> + +<p>It hurt Yeager's broken face to smile, but he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> attempted it. "Had a +little difference of opinion with Chad. We kind o' talked things over."</p> + +<p>Nobody asked anything further. It is the way of outdoor Arizona to take +a good deal for granted. This man was torn and tattered and bruised. His +face was cut open in a dozen places. Purple weals and discolorations +showed how badly his body had been punished. He looked a fit subject for +a hospital. But every one who looked into his quiet, unconquered eyes +knew that he had come off victor.</p> + +<p>"First off, a bath in the creek to get rid of these souvenirs Chad sent +to my address. Then it's me for the hay," he announced.</p> + +<p>Ruth watched him go, lean, sinewy, and wide-shouldered. His stride was +once more light and strong, for with the passing hours power had flowed +back into his veins. She sighed. He was a man that would go the limit +for his friends. He was gentle, kindly, full of genial and cheerful +courage. But she knew now there was another side to him, a quality that +was tigerish, that snarled like a wolf in battle. Why was it that men +must be so?</p> + +<p>Old Dan chuckled. "Ain't he the lad? Stove up to beat all get-out. But +I'd give a dollar Mex to see the other man. He's sure a pippin to see +this glad mawnin'."</p> + +<p>Something of what was groping in her mind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span> broke from Ruth into words. +"Why do men fight like that? It's dreadful."</p> + +<p>Dan scratched his shiny bald head. "It straightens out a heap of things +in this little old world. My old man used to say to me when I was a kid, +'Son, don't start trouble, but when it's going, play yore hand out.' +That's how it is with Steve. He ain't huntin' trouble anywhere, but he +ce'tainly plays his hand out."</p> + +<p>Phil took charge of his sister. He gave her coffee and breakfast, then +arranged blankets so that she could get a few hours' sleep in comfort. +Orman rode back to Los Robles to carry the word to Mrs. Seymour that +Ruth had been rescued and was all right. The others lounged about camp +while Yeager and the girl slept.</p> + +<p>At noon they were wakened. Coffee was served again, after which they +rode down from the pass and started home. Before supper-time they were +back in Los Robles.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2><h3>STEVE WINS A HAM SANDWICH</h3> +</div> + +<p>Yeager was roused from sleep next morning by a knock at the door. His +visitor was Fleming Lennox, leading man of the company.</p> + +<p>"Say, Steve, what about Threewit and Farrar? I just telephoned to the +Lazy B Ranch and the foreman says his boys did not run across them. You +know what that means. They've reached old Pasquale's camp."</p> + +<p>Yeager sat up in bed and whistled softly to himself. This was a +contingency he had not foreseen. What would the Mexican chief do to two +of the range-rider's friends who delivered themselves into his hands so +opportunely? Steve did not think he would kill them offhand, but he was +very sure they would not be at liberty to return home. Moreover, +Harrison would be on the ground, eager for revenge. The prizefighter +never had liked Farrar. He had sworn to get even with Threewit. An added +incentive to this course was the fact that he knew them both to be on +very good terms with his chief enemy. Without doubt Chad would do his +best to stimulate the insurgent leader to impulsive violence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span></p> + +<p>The man in bed concealed his apprehension under a comical grin. "This +life's just one damned thing after another, looks like," he commented. +"I didn't figure on that. I thought sure the boys would bump into +Threewit. That slip-up surely spills the beans."</p> + +<p>"You don't think even Pasquale would dare hurt them, do you?" asked +Lennox anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Search me. Pasquale's boiled in p'ison, especially when he is drunk. +He'd do whatever he had a mind to do."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with us sending a messenger down there with a fake +wire from the old man to Threewit telling him to hustle up and get busy +right away on a feature film? Pasquale would have to show his hand, +anyhow. We'd know where we were at."</p> + +<p>Yeager assented. "He'd have to turn them loose or hold them. But even if +he turned them loose, he might arrange to have them accidentally killed +by bandits before they reached home. Still, it would put one thing right +up to him—that their friends know where they are and are ready to sick +Uncle Sam on him if he don't act proper."</p> + +<p>Manderson, Miss Winters, and Daisy Ellington were called into council +after breakfast. The situation was canvassed from all sides, but in the +end they stood where they had been at the beginning. Nobody felt sure +what Pasquale<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> would do or knew whether the visitors at his camp would +be detained as prisoners. The original suggestion of Lennox seemed the +best under the circumstances.</p> + +<p>Old Juan Yuste was brought in from the stables and given the telegram. +He was told nothing except that it was urgent that Threewit get the +message as soon as possible. The five-dollar gold-piece which Lennox +tossed to the Mexican drew a grin that exposed a mouth half empty of +teeth.</p> + +<p>In the absence of both Threewit and Farrar the business of producing +films was at a standstill. The members of the company took an enforced +holiday. Manderson read a novel. Daisy wrote letters. Lennox and Miss +Winters went for a long stroll. Steve helped Baldy Cummings mend broken +saddles and other property stuff. The extras played poker.</p> + +<p>Juan returned late in the evening on the second day. He brought with him +a letter addressed to Lennox. It was from Pasquale. The message was +written in English. It said:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style='text-align: left'>Greetings, señor. Your friends are the guests of General Pasquale. +They came to Noche Buena to find one Señor Yeager. They are +resolved to stay here until he is found by them, even though they +remain till the day of their death.</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span></p> + +<p>The note was signed, "Siempre, Gabriel Pasquale."</p> + +<p>After reading, it, Yeager handed the note back to Lennox and spoke +quietly.</p> + +<p>"Pasquale passes the buck up to me. <b>I've</b> been thinking he might do +that."</p> + +<p>"You mean—?"</p> + +<p>"—That he serves notice he's going to kill our friends if I don't give +myself up to him."</p> + +<p>"But would he? Dare he?"</p> + +<p>Yeager shrugged. "It will happen in the usual Mexican way—killed by +accident while trying to escape, or else ambushed by Federals on the +desert while coming home, according to the story that will be dished up +to the papers. He will be full of regrets and apologies to our +Government, but that won't help Threewit or Frank any."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think he's bluffing? Pasquale hasn't a thing against either +of them. He surely wouldn't murder them in cold blood."</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether he is or not. But it's up to me to sit in and take +cards. They went down to Noche Buena on my account. I'm going down on +theirs."</p> + +<p>Lennox stared incredulously at him. "You don't mean you're going to give +yourself up. Pasquale would hang up your hide to dry."</p> + +<p>"That's just what he would do, after he had boiled me in oil or given me +some other pleasant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> diversion. No, I reckon I'll not give myself up. +I'll join his army again."</p> + +<p>"I give it up, Steve. Tell me the answer."</p> + +<p>"As a private this time."</p> + +<p>"Fat chance you'll have, with Friend Harrison there to spot you, not to +mention the old boy himself and Culvera."</p> + +<p>"It won't be Steve Yeager that joins. It will be a poor peon from the +hills named Pedro or Juan or Pablo."</p> + +<p>"You're going to rig up as a Mexican?"</p> + +<p>"Some guesser, Lennox."</p> + +<p>"You can't put it over, not with your face looking like a pounded +beefsteak. I judge you don't know what an Exhibit A you are at present. +The first time Chad looked at you, he would recognize the result of his +uppercuts and swings."</p> + +<p>"So he would. I'll have to wait a week or so. Send Juan back to Pasquale +and tell him you hear I'm in the Lone Star country where I used to +punch. Say you've sent for me with an offer to take Harrison's place in +the company, and that if I come you'll arrange with him to have me taken +by his men while we're doing a set near the line. He'll fall for that +because he'll be so keen to get me that any chance will look good to +him. You'll have to give Juan a tip not to let it out I'm here."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span></p> + +<p>"What can you do if you get into Pasquale's camp as one of his men?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Something will turn up."</p> + +<p>"You're taking a big chance, Steve."</p> + +<p>"Not because I want to. But I've got to do what I can for the boys. This +ain't just the time for a 'watchful waiting' policy, seems to me. If +you've got anything better to offer, I'm agreeable to listen."</p> + +<p>"The only thing I can think of is to appeal to Uncle Sam."</p> + +<p>"That won't get us much. But there's no harm in trying. Have the old man +stir up a big dust at Washington. After plenty of red tape an official +representation will be made to Pasquale. He will lie himself black in +the face. More correspondence. More explanations. Finally, if the +prisoners are still alive, they will start home. Mebbe they'll get here. +Mebbe they won't."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't think it's worth trying?"</p> + +<p>"Sure I do. Every little helps. It might make Pasquale sit steady in the +boat till I get a chance to pull off something."</p> + +<p>When Daisy Ellington heard of the plan she went straight to Yeager.</p> + +<p>"What's this I hear about you committing suicide?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"News to me, compadre," smiled the puncher.</p> + +<p>"You're not really going down there to shove<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span> your head into that den of +wolves, are you?" Without waiting for an answer she pushed on to a +prediction. "Because if you do, they'll surely snap it off."</p> + +<p>"Wish you'd change your brand of prophecy, niña. You see, this is the +only head I've got. I'm some partial to it."</p> + +<p>"Then you had better keep away from that old Pasquale and Chad Harrison. +Don't be foolish, Steve." She caught the lapels of his coat and shook +him fondly. "If you don't know when you're well off, your friends do. +We're not going to let you go."</p> + +<p>"Threewit and Farrar," he reminded her.</p> + +<p>"They'll have to take their chance. Besides, Pasquale isn't going to +hurt them. There wouldn't be any sense in it. So there's no use us +getting panicky."</p> + +<p>"I don't reckon I'm exactly panicky, Daisy. But it won't do to forget +that Pasquale is one bad hombre. Harrison is another, and he's got it in +for the boys. We can't lie down and quit on them, can we? I notice they +didn't do that with me."</p> + +<p>"What good will it do for you to go and get trapped too? It's different +with you. They've got it in for you down there. It's just foolhardiness +for you to go back," she told him sharply.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span></p> + +<p>"You're sure some little boss," he laughed. "I'm willing to be +reasonable. If I can prove to you that I stand a good chance to pull it +off down at Noche Buena, will you feel different about it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you can—but you can't," she agreed, flashing at him the +provocative little smile that was one of her charms.</p> + +<p>"Bet you a box of chocolates against a ham sandwich I can."</p> + +<p>"You're on," she nodded airily.</p> + +<p>"Better order that ham sandwich," he advised, mocking her lazily with +his friendly eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. You're not so much, Cactus Center. I expect to be +eating chocolates soon."</p> + +<p>Her gay audacity always pleased him. He settled himself for explanations +soberly, but back of his gravity lay laughter.</p> + +<p>"You've got the wrong hunch on me. I ain't any uneducated sheepherder. +Don't run away with that notion. Me, I went through the first year of +the High School at Tucson. I know all about <i>amo, amas, amat</i>, and how +to make a flying tackle. Course oncet in a while I slip up in grammar. +There's heap too much grammar in the world, anyhow. It plumb chokes up a +man's language."</p> + +<p>"All right, Steve. Show me. I'm from Joplin,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> Missouri. When are you +going to do all this proving?"</p> + +<p>"We won't set a date. Some time before I leave."</p> + +<p>Yeager walked from the studio to his rooming-place. Ruth Seymour met him +on the porch and stopped him. It was the first time he had seen her +since their return.</p> + +<p>"Is it true—what Mr. Manderson says—that you are going back to Noche +Buena?" she flung at him.</p> + +<p>"I'm certainly getting on the society page," he laughed. "Manderson has +a pretty good reputation. I shouldn't wonder if what he says is true."</p> + +<p>The face beneath the crown of soft black hair was colorless except for +the trembling lips.</p> + +<p>"Why? Why must you go? You've just escaped from there with your life. +Are you mad?"</p> + +<p>"Look here, Miss Ruth. I've just had a roundup with Miss Ellington about +this. I'm going to take a whirl at rescuing our friends. Pasquale can't +put over such a raw deal without getting a run for his money from me. +I'm going back there because it's up to me to go. There are some things +a man can't do. He can't quit when his friends need him."</p> + +<p>She was standing in the doorway, her head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> leaning against the jamb so +that the fine curve of the throat line showed a beating pulse. Something +in the pose of the slim, graceful figure told him of repressed emotion.</p> + +<p>"That is absurd, Mr. Yeager. You can't do anything for them if you go."</p> + +<p>"Everybody sizes me up for a buzzard-head," he complained whimsically.</p> + +<p>The gravity did not lift from her young, quick eyes.</p> + +<p>"If you go they'll kill you," she said in a voice as dry as a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Sho! Nothing to that. I'm going down disguised. I'll be safe enough."</p> + +<p>"I suppose ... nothing can keep you from going." A sob choked up in her +throat as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"No. I've got to go."</p> + +<p>"You think you have a right to play at dice with your life! Don't your +friends count with you at all?"</p> + +<p>"It's because they do that I'm going," he answered gently.</p> + +<p>Her troubled eyes rested on his. The protest in her heart was still +urgent, but she dared go no further. Some instinct of maidenly reticence +curbed the passionate rebellion against his decision. If she said more, +she might say too much. With a swift, sinuous turn of the slender body<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span> +she ran into the house and left him standing there.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Daisy sat at one end of the pergola mending a glove. It was in the +pleasant cool of the evening just as dusk was beginning to fall. A light +breeze rustled the rose-leaves and played with the tendrils of her soft, +wavy hair. The coolness was grateful after the heat of an Arizona day.</p> + +<p>The front gate creaked. A man was coming in, a Mexican of the peon +class. He moved up the walk toward her with a slight limp. As he drew +closer, she observed negligently that he was of early middle age, +ragged, and of course dirty. Age and lack of soap had so dyed his serape +that the original color was quite gone.</p> + +<p>He bowed to her with the native courtesy that belongs to even the peons +of his race. A swift patter of Spanish fell from his lips.</p> + +<p>Miss Ellington shook her head. "No sabe Español."</p> + +<p>The man gushed into a second eruption of liquid vowels, accompanied this +time by gestures which indicated that he wanted food.</p> + +<p>The young woman nodded, went into the house, and secured from Mrs. +Seymour a plate of broken fragments left over from supper. With this and +a cup of coffee she returned to the pergola.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span></p> + +<p>"Gracias, señorita." The shining black poll of the man bowed over the +donation as he accepted it.</p> + +<p>He sat cross-legged among the roses and ate what had been given him. +Daisy observed critically that his habit of eating was not at all nice. +He discarded the fork she had brought, using only the knife and his +fingers. The meat he tore apart and devoured ravenously, cramming it +wolfishly into his mouth as fast as he could. A few days before she had +fallen into an argument with Steve Yeager about the civilization of the +Mexicans. She wished he could see this specimen.</p> + +<p>The man spoke, after he had cleaned the plate, licked up the gravy, and +gulped down the coffee. His words fell in a slow drawl, not in Spanish, +but in English.</p> + +<p>"Don't you reckon mebbe I could get a ham sandwich too?"</p> + +<p>The actress jumped. "Steve, you fraud!" she screamed, and flew at him.</p> + +<p>"Do I win?" he asked, protecting himself as he backed away.</p> + +<p>"Of course you do. Why haven't we been using you up stage in the Mexican +sets? You're perfect. How did you ever get your hair so slick and +black?"</p> + +<p>"I've been studying make-ups since I joined the Lunar Company," he told +her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span></p> + +<p>"How about your Spanish? Is it good enough to pass muster?"</p> + +<p>"I learned to jabber it when I was a year old before I did English."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll do. I defy even Harrison <b>to</b> recognize you."</p> + +<p>He gave her his Mexican bow. "Gracias, señorita."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2><h3>THE HEAVY PAYS A DEBT</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Threewit and Farrar reached Noche Buena, Pasquale was absent from +camp, but Culvera made them suavely welcome.</p> + +<p>"Señor Yeager has recovered and was called away unexpectedly on +business," he explained; adding with his lip smile, "He will be +desolated to have missed you."</p> + +<p>"He is better, then?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, quite his self. He nearly died from gunshot wounds, but unless +he suffers a relapse he is entirely out of present danger."</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't have thought it would have been safe to travel yet," Farrar +returned.</p> + +<p>He was uneasy in his mind, sensing something of mocking irony in the +manner of the Mexican. It was strange that Yeager, wounded to death as +his letter had said, was able in two days to be up and around again.</p> + +<p>"We were anxious to have him stop, but he was in a hurry. Personally I +did my best to get him to stay." Culvera's smile glittered +reminiscently: "The truth is that he thought our climate unhealthy. He +was afraid of heart failure."</p> + +<p>Threewit scoffed openly. "Absurd. The man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> is the finest physical +specimen I ever saw. If you had ever seen him on the back of an outlaw +bronc, you'd know his heart was all right."</p> + +<p>The door of the room opened and Harrison came in. He stopped, mouth open +with surprise at sight of the Americans.</p> + +<p>"Some of Mr. Yeager's anxious friends come down to inquire about his +health, Harrison. Did he seem to you healthy last time you saw him?" the +Mexican asked maliciously.</p> + +<p>Like a thunderclap the prizefighter broke loose in a turbid stream of +profanity. It boiled from his lips like molten lava from a crater. The +raucous words poured forth from a heart furious with rage. The man was +beside himself. He raved like a madman—and the object of his invective +was Stephen Yeager.</p> + +<p>And all the time the man cursed he stamped painfully about the room, a +sight to wonder at. His face was so swollen, so bruised and discolored, +that he was hardly recognizable. He had managed to creep into another +suit of clothes after the doctor had dressed his wounds and sewed up his +cuts, but these could not hide the fact that every step was a torment to +his pummeled ribs and lacerated flesh. He was game. Another man in his +condition would have been in the hospital. Harrison dragged himself +about because he would not admit that he was badly hurt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span></p> + +<p>Culvera turned to the Americans and explained the situation in a few +sentences. He was enjoying himself extremely because the vanity of his +companion writhed at the position in which he was placed.</p> + +<p>"Your friend Yeager was not pleasing to our general and was sentenced to +be shot. He escaped in the night. Our companion Harrison, also I believe +a compatriot and friend of yours, is a charmer of ladies' hearts, as you +will perceive with one glance at his handsome face. Behold, then, an +elopement, romance, and moonshine. 'Linda de mi alma, amor mia, come,' +he cries. The lady comes. But, alas! for true love, the brutal vaquero +follows. They meet, and—I draw a merciful curtain over the result."</p> + +<p>Harrison was off again in crisp and crackling language. When at last his +vocabulary was exhausted, he turned savagely upon Threewit and Farrar.</p> + +<p>"I'll see Pasquale gets the right dope on you fellows too. You're a pair +of damned fools for coming here, believe <i>me</i>. If the old man can't get +Yeager, he'll take his friends instead. Didn't I tell you I'd make you +sick of what you did to me, Threewit? Good enough. I've got you both +where I want you now. You'll get plenty of hell, take my word for it."</p> + +<p>Threewit turned with dignity to the Mexican.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> "I have nothing to say to +this man, Major Culvera. But you are a gentleman. We have been deceived. +I ask for an escort as far as the border to see us safely back."</p> + +<p>Culvera was full of bland hospitality. "Really I can't permit you to +leave before the general returns. He would never forgive me. When +friends travel so far, they must be entertained. Not so?"</p> + +<p>"Are we prisoners? Is that what you mean?" demanded Farrar bluntly.</p> + +<p>The major shook his finger toward him with smiling deprecation. +"Prisoners! Fie, what a word among friends? Let us rather say guests of +honor. If I give you a guard it is as a precaution, to make sure that no +rash peon makes the mistake of injuring you as an enemy."</p> + +<p>"We understand," Threewit answered. "But I'll just tell you one thing, +major. Our friends know where we are, and Uncle Sam has a long arm. It +will reach easily to Noche Buena."</p> + +<p>"So, señor? Perhaps. Maybe. Who knows? Accidents happen—regrettable +ones. A thousand apologies to your Uncle Sam. Oh, yes! Ver' sorry. Too +late to mend, but then have we not shot the foolish peon who made the +mistake in regard to Señors Farrar and Threewit? Yes, indeed."</p> + +<p>Culvera tossed off his genial prophecy with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span> politest indifference. +The prisoners read in his words a threat, sinister and scarcely veiled.</p> + +<p>"You're talking murder, which is absurd," answered Threewit. "We've done +no harm to you or General Pasquale. We came here by mistake. He'll let +us go, of course."</p> + +<p>"You sent Yeager down here to spy about those cattle you lost. Now +you've come down here buttin' in to see for yourself. I don't expect +Pasquale is going to stand for any such thing," broke in Harrison.</p> + +<p>Farrar looked the prizefighter straight in the eye.</p> + +<p>"You're a liar and you know it, Harrison. Let me tell you something +else. You've stood here and cursed Yeager to the limit. Why? Because +he's a better man than you are. I don't know just what's happened, but I +can see that he has given you the beating of your life. And he did it in +fair fight too."</p> + +<p>Harrison interrupted with a scream of rage. "I'll cave his head in when +we meet sure as he's a foot high."</p> + +<p>"No, you won't. He's got your goat. What I've got to say about Yeager is +this. If you put over any of your sculduggery on us, he'll wipe you off +the map no matter in what lonesome hole you hide. Just stick a pin in +that."</p> + +<p>The bully moved slowly toward Farrar. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> head had sunk down and his +shoulders fallen to the gorilla hunch.</p> + +<p>"You've said enough—too much, damn you," he roared.</p> + +<p>With catlike swiftness Culvera sprang from where he sat, flung his +weight low at the furious man from an angle, and tipped him from his +feet so that he fell staggering into a chair.</p> + +<p>"None of that, amigo," said the Mexican curtly. "These gentlemen are +guests of General Pasquale. Till he passes judgment they shall be +treated with ver' much courtesy."</p> + +<p>Panting heavily, Harrison glared at him. Some day he intended to take a +fall out of this supercilious young Spanish aristocrat, but just now he +was not equal to the task. He mumbled incoherent threats.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite catch your remarks. Is it that they are to my address, +Señor Harrison?" asked the young officer silkily.</p> + +<p>Heavily Harrison rose and passed from the room without looking at any of +them. For the present he was beaten and he knew it.</p> + +<p>The Mexican smiled confidentially at his prisoners. "Between friends, +it's ver' devilish unpleasant to do business with such a—what you +call—ruffian. But ver' necessar'. Oh, yes! Quite so."</p> + +<p>"Depends on one's business, I expect," replied Farrar.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span></p> + +<p>"You have said it, señor. A patriot can't be too particulair. He uses +the tools that come to his hands. But pardon! My tongue is like a +woman's. It runs away with time."</p> + +<p>He called the guard and had the prisoners removed. They were put in the +same adobe hut where Yeager had been confined a few days earlier.</p> + +<p>Threewit lit a cigar and paced up and down gloomily. "This is a hell of +a fix we're in. Before we get out of here the old man will be hollering +his head off for that 'Retreat of the Bandits' three-reeler."</p> + +<p>The camera man laughed ruefully. "I ain't worrying any about the old +man. He's back there safe in little old New York. It's Frank Farrar +that's on my mind. How is he going to get out of here?"</p> + +<p>The director stopped, took the cigar from his mouth, and looked across +questioningly at him.</p> + +<p>"You don't really think Pasquale will hurt us, do you?"</p> + +<p>"No; not unless the breaks go against us. I don't reckon Pasquale has +anything much against Yeager any more than he has against us. Of course, +Harrison will do his darndest to make him sore at us. Notice how he +tried to put it over that we had come about that bunch of cattle he +stole?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sure I did. But it is not likely that Harrison is ace high in this +pack. What I'm afraid of is that the old general will soak us for a +ransom. He's nothing but an outlaw, anyhow."</p> + +<p>Within the hour they were taken before Pasquale. He was still covered +with the dust of travel. His riding-gloves lay on the table where he had +tossed them. His soft white hat was on his head. As rapidly as possible +he was devouring a chicken dinner.</p> + +<p>It was his discourteous whim to keep them waiting in the back of the +room until he had finished. They were offered no seats, but stood +against the wall under the eye of the guard who had brought them.</p> + +<p>The general finished his bottle of wine before he turned savagely upon +them.</p> + +<p>"You are friends of the Gringo Yeager. Not so?" he accused.</p> + +<p>It was too late for a denial now. Threewit admitted the charge.</p> + +<p>"So. Maldito! What are you doing here? I've had enough of you Yankees!" +he exploded.</p> + +<p>Before Threewit had more than begun his explanations he brushed aside +the director's words.</p> + +<p>"This Yeager is a devil. Did he not crawl up on me unexpect' and strike +me here with an axe?" He touched the back of his head, across which a +wide bandage ran. "Be sure I will cut his heart<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span> out some day. Gabriel +Pasquale has said it. And you—you come here to spy what we have. You +claim my cattle. Am I a fool that I do not know?"</p> + +<p>"We are sorry—"</p> + +<p>The Mexican struck the table with his hairy brown fist so that the +dishes rang. "Sorry! Jesu Cristo! In good time I shall see to that. If I +do not lay hands upon this devil Yeager, his friends will do instead. Am +I one to be laughed at by Gringos?"</p> + +<p>Threewit spoke as firmly as he could, though the fear of this big, +unshaven savage was in his heart. "We are not spies, general. We were +brought here by the lie that Yeager lay here dying and had sent for us. +In no way have we harmed you. Before you go too far, remember that our +Government will not tolerate any foul play. We are not stray +sheepherders. Our friends are close to the President. They have his ear +and—"</p> + +<p>Pasquale leaned forward and snapped his fingers in the face of Threewit. +"That for your President and your Government. Pouf! I snap my fingers. I +spit on them. Mexico for the Mexicans. To the devil with all +foreigners."</p> + +<p>He nodded to the guard. "Away with them!"</p> + +<p>As they left they could hear him roaring for another bottle.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2><h3>PEDRO CABENZA</h3> +</div> + +<p>The Patriotic Legion of the Northern States was drinking mescal and +gambling for the paper money Pasquale had issued and rolling about in +the dust with joyous whoops from each squirming mass. It was a happy +Legion, though a dirty one. It let its chief do all the worrying about +how it was to be fed and transported. Cheerfully it went its ragged way, +eating, drinking, sleeping, card-playing, rolling in the dust of its +friendly wrestling. What matter that many members of the Legion were +barefoot, that its horses were scarecrows, that gunnysacks and ends of +wires from baled hay and bits of frazzled rope all made contribution to +the saddles and bridles of the cavalry! Was Pasquale not going to take +them straight to Mexico City, where all of them would be made rich at +the expense of the accursed Federals who had trodden upon the face of +the poor? Caramba! Soon now the devil would have his own.</p> + +<p>A burro appeared at one end of the hot and dusty street. Beside the +burro limped a man, occasionally beating the animal on the rump with a +switch he carried. The Legion took a languid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> interest. This was some +farmer from a hill valley bringing supplies to sell to the patriotic +army. Would his wares turn out to be mescal or vegetables or perhaps a +leggy steer that he had butchered?</p> + +<p>As he drew nearer it was to be seen that a crate hung from one side of +the burro. In it were chickens. Balancing this, on the other side, were +two gunnysacks. Through a hole in one of these pushed the green face of +a cabbage. Interest in the new arrival declined. The chickens would go +to the quarters of the officers, and cabbage was an old story.</p> + +<p>When the burro was opposite the corral one of the sacks gave way with a +rip. From out of the hole poured a stream of apples upon the dusty road. +That part of the Legion which was nearest pounced upon the fruit with +shouts of laughter. The owner tried to fight the half-grown soldiers +from his property. He might as well have tried to sweep back an ocean +tide with a broom. In ten seconds every apple had been gleaned from the +dust. Within thirty more everything but the cores had gone to feed the +Legion.</p> + +<p>The vendor of food wailed and flung imprecations at his laughing +tormentors. He cursed them fluently and shook a dirty brown fist at the +circle of troopers. He threatened to tell Pasquale what they had done.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span></p> + +<p>A harsh voice interrupted him. "What is it you will tell Pasquale?"</p> + +<p>The army began to melt unobtrusively away. The general himself, +accompanied by Major Ochampa, sat in the saddle and scowled at the +farmer. The latter told his story, almost in tears. This was all he had, +these chicken, cabbages, and apples. He had brought them down to sell +and was going to enlist. His Excellency would understand that he, Pedro +Cabenza, was a patriot, but, behold! he had been robbed.</p> + +<p>He was at any rate a very ragged patriot. There was a hole in his cotton +trousers through which four inches of coffee-colored leg showed. His +shoes were in the last stages. The hat he doffed was an extremely +ventilated one.</p> + +<p>Pasquale passed judgment instantly. It would never do for word to get +out that those bringing supplies to feed his army were not paid fairly.</p> + +<p>"Buy the chickens and the cabbage, Ochampa. Pay the man for his apples. +Enlist him and find him a mount."</p> + +<p>He rode away, leaving his subordinate to deal with the details. Major +Ochampa was the paymaster for the army as well as Secretary of the +Treasury for the Government of which Pasquale was the chief. His name +was on the very much-depreciated currency the insurgents had issued.</p> + +<p>Until recently Ochampa had been a small<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> farmer himself. He bargained +shrewdly for the supplies, but in Cabenza he found a match. The man +haggled to the last cent and then called on Heaven to witness that he +had practically given away the goods for nothing. But when the sergeant +led him away to enlist he was beaming at the bargain he had made.</p> + +<p>Cabenza became at once an unobtrusive unit in the army. He could lie for +hours and bask in the sunshine with the patient content of the Mexican +peon. He could eat frijoles and tortillas week in and week out, offering +no complaint at the monotony of his diet. He was as lazy, as hopeful, +and as unambitious as several thousand other riders of the Legion. +Nobody paid the least attention to him except to require of him the not +very arduous duties of camp service. Presently Pasquale would move south +and renew the campaign. Meanwhile his troopers had an indolent, easy +time of it.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the day after his enlistment Pedro Cabenza strolled +across toward the prison where he had been told two Americans were held +captive. Two guards sat outside in front of the door and gossiped. +Cabenza, moved apparently by a desire for companionship, indifferently +drifted toward them. He sat down. Presently he produced a bottle +furtively. All three drank, to good health, to the success of the +revolution, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> third time to the day when they should march, victorious +into the great city in the south.</p> + +<p>They became exhilarated. Cabenza found it necessary to work off his +excitement upon the prisoners. He stood on tiptoe, holding the window +bars in his hands, and jeered at the men within.</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho, Gringos! May the devil fly away with you! Food for powder—food +for powder! Some fine morning the general will give orders and—we shall +bury you in the sand by the river. Not so?" he scoffed in his own +language.</p> + +<p>One of the Americans within drew near the window.</p> + +<p>"Listen," he said. "Do you want to earn some money—ten—twenty—one +hundred dollars in gold? Will you take a letter for me to Los Robles?"</p> + +<p>"No. The general would skin me alive. I spit upon your offer. I throw +dirt upon you."</p> + +<p>Cabenza stooped, in his hand scooped up some dust from the ground, and +flung it between the bars.</p> + +<p>One of the guards pulled him back savagely.</p> + +<p>"Icabron! Know you not the orders of the general? None are to talk with +the Gringos. Away, fool! Because of the drink Pablo and I will forget. +Away!"</p> + +<p>Cabenza showed a face ludicrously terror-stricken.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> The punishments of +Pasquale were notoriously severe. If it were known he had broken the +command he would at least be beaten with whips.</p> + +<p>"I did not know. I did not know," he explained humbly, thrusting the +liquor bottle at one of them. "Here, compañero, drink and forget that I +have spoken."</p> + +<p>He turned and scurried away into the darkness.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2><h3>HARRISON OVERPLAYS HIS HAND</h3> +</div> + +<p>Through the barred window Farrar watched the guard drag Cabenza back. He +was very despondent. They had been prisoners now nearly a week and could +see no termination of their jail sentence in sight. The food given them +was wretched. They were anxious, dirty, and unkempt. Though he would not +admit it even to himself, the camera man was oppressed by the shadow of +a possible impending fate. The whim of a tyrant regardless of human life +might at any hour send them to a firing squad.</p> + +<p>Threewit sat gloomily on the stool, elbows on knees and chin resting on +his fists. He could have wept for himself almost without shame. For +forty-five years he had gone his safe way, a policeman always within +call. Not once had life in the raw reached out and gripped him. Not once +had he faced the stark probability of sudden, violent death. Clubs and +after-theater suppers and poker and golf had offered him pleasant +diversion. And now—a cruel fate had thrown him in the way of a +barbarian with no sense of either justice or kindness. He felt himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> +too soft of fiber to cope with such elemental forces.</p> + +<p>"Look! What is that, Threewit?"</p> + +<p>Farrar was pointing to something on the table that gleamed white in the +moonlight. He stepped forward and picked it up. The article was a stone +around which was wrapped a paper tied by a string.</p> + +<p>"The Mexican must have thrown it in with the dirt. It wasn't there +before," replied the director quickly.</p> + +<p>Farrar untied the string and smoothed out the paper, holding it toward +the moonlight. "There's writing on it, but I can't make it out. Strike a +match for me."</p> + +<p>His companion struck on his trousers a match and the camera man read by +its glowing flame.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style='text-align: left'>Keep a stiff upper lip. Cactus Center is on the job. Don't know +when my chance will come, but I'm looking for it. <i>Chew this up.</i></p> + +<p style='text-align: right'>S. Y.</p></div> + +<p>Farrar gave a subdued whoop of joy. "It's old Steve. He hasn't forgotten +us, good old boy. I'll bet he has got something up his sleeve."</p> + +<p>"Hope that greaser doesn't give us away to Pasquale or Harrison."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span></p> + +<p>"He won't. Trust Cactus Center. He's bridle-wise, that lad is. I feel a +lot better just to know he has got us on his mind."</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose he is planning?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know. Of course he has to lie low. But he pulled off his own +getaway and I'll back him to figure out ours." The camera man was +nothing if not a loyal admirer of the range-rider.</p> + +<p>They talked in whispers, eager and excited with the possibility of +rescue that had come. Somehow, of all the men they had known, they +banked more on Steve Yeager in such an emergency than any other. It was +not alone his physical vigor, though that counted, since it gave him so +complete a mastery over himself. Farrar had seen him once stripped in a +swimming-pool and been stirred to wonder. Beneath the satiny skin the +muscles moved in ripples. The biceps crawled back and forth like living +things, beautiful in the graceful flow of their movement. Whatever he +had done had been done easily, apparently without effort. This reserve +power was something more than a combination of bone and sinew and flesh. +It was a product of the spirit, a moral force to be reckoned with. It +helped to make impossible things easy of accomplishment.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>The panic of Cabenza vanished as soon as he was out of sight of the +guards. As he turned down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span> toward the sandy river-bed a little smile lay +in his eyes.</p> + +<p>From the place where it was buried beneath the root of a cottonwood, he +dug out a bandanna handkerchief containing several bottles, little +brushes, and a looking-glass. Sitting there in the moonlight, he worked +busily renewing the tints of his hands and face and also of the +coffee-colored patch of skin that peeped through his torn trouser leg.</p> + +<p>This done, he sauntered back to the little town and down the adobe +street. A horseman cantered up to the headquarters of the general just +as Pasquale stepped out with Culvera. The latter snapped his fingers +toward Cabenza and that trooper ran forward.</p> + +<p>"Hold the horse," ordered the officer in Mexican.</p> + +<p>Cabenza relieved the messenger, who stepped forward and delivered what +had been given him to say. The hearing of the man holding the horse was +acute and he listened intently.</p> + +<p>"Señor Harrison sends greeting to the general. He is in touch with the +play-actor Lennox and hopes soon to get the Gringo Yeager. If Lennox +plays false...."</p> + +<p>The words ran into a murmur and Cabenza could hear no more.</p> + +<p>The messenger was dismissed. Cabenza<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span> stooped to tie a loose lace in his +shoe. Pasquale and Culvera passed back from the end of the porch into +the house. As they went the trooper heard another stray fragment in the +voice of the general.</p> + +<p>"If Harrison crosses the line after him at night...."</p> + +<p>That was all, but it told Cabenza that Harrison was negotiating with +Lennox for the delivery of Yeager in exchange for Threewit and Farrar. +The leading man was, of course, playing for time until Steve, under the +guise of Cabenza, could arrange to win the freedom of the prisoners.</p> + +<p>This would take time, for success would depend upon several dove-tailing +factors. To attempt a rescue and to fail would be practically to sign +the death-warrant of Farrar and Threewit.</p> + +<p>Yeager, alias Cabenza, returned to the stable where he and a score of +patriots of the Northern Legion had sleeping-quarters. He would much +have preferred to take his blankets out into the pure night air and to +bed under the stars. But he was playing his part thoroughly. He could +not afford to be nice or scrupulous, for fear of calling special +attention to himself.</p> + +<p>As for the peons beside him, they snored peacefully without regard to +the lack of cleanliness of their bedroom. The first day of his arrival +Yeager had knocked a hole in the flimsy wall and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span> had given it out as +the result of a chance kick of a bronco. This served to let air into a +building which had no other means of ventilation. It also allowed some +small percentage of the various concentrated odors to escape.</p> + +<p>The Arizonian was a light sleeper. But like some men in perfect trim he +had the faculty of going to sleep whenever he desired. Often he had +taken a nap in the saddle while night-herding. Fatigued from eighteen +hours of wrestling the cattle to safety through a bitter storm, he had +learned to fall easily into rest the instant his head hit the pillow. It +was a heritage that had come to him from his rugged, outdoor life. So he +slept now, a gentle, untroubled slumber, until daylight sifted through +the hole in the wall at his side.</p> + +<p>He was on duty that day herding the remuda, and it was not until late +afternoon that he returned to camp. From a distance, dropping down into +the draw which formed the location of the town, he saw a dust cloud +moving down the street. At the apex of it rode a little bunch of +travelers, evidently just in from the desert. Incuriously his eyes +watched the party as it moved toward the headquarters of Pasquale. Some +impulse led him to put his scarecrow of a pony at a canter.</p> + +<p>The party reached the house of Pasquale and the two leaders dismounted. +Yeager was still at some distance, but he had an uncertain impression<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> +that one of them was a woman. They stood <b>on</b> the porch talking. The +larger one seemed to be overruling the protest of the other, so far as +Steve could tell at that distance. The two passed together into the +house.</p> + +<p>It was not at all unusual for women to go into that house, according to +the camp-fire stories that were whispered in the army. Pasquale was an +unmoral old barbarian. If he liked women and wine the Legion made no +complaint. The women were either camp-followers or visitors from the +nearest town. In either case they were not of a sort whose reputation +was likely to suffer.</p> + +<p>Yeager cooked his simple supper and ate it. He sat down with his back to +an adobe wall and rolled a cigarette. The peons, loafing in the cool of +the evening, naturally fell into gossip. Steve, intent on his own +thoughts, did not hear what was said until a word snatched him out of +his indifference. The word was the name of Harrison.</p> + +<p>"This afternoon?" asked one.</p> + +<p>"Not an hour ago."</p> + +<p>"Brought a woman with him, Pablo says," said a third indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Yes." The first speaker laughed with an implication he did not care to +express.</p> + +<p>One of the others leaned forward and spoke in a lower tone. "This +Harrison promised the general to bring back with him the Gringo Yeager.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span> +Old Gabriel is crazy to get the Yankee devil in his hands. Not so? +Harrison brings him a woman instead to soften his bad temper, maybe."</p> + +<p>The American gave no sign of interest. His fingers finished rolling the +cigarette. Not another muscle of the inert body moved.</p> + +<p>"A white woman this time, Pablo says."</p> + +<p>The first speaker shrugged. "Look you, brother. All is grist that comes +to the mill of Gabriel. As for these Gringo women"—He whispered a bit +of slander that brought the blood to the face of Steve.</p> + +<p>The peons guffawed with delight. This kind of joke was adapted both to +their prejudices and their lack of intelligence. They were as ignorant +of the world as children, fully as gay, irresponsible, and kindhearted. +But they had, too, a capacity for cruelty and frank sensuousness that +belongs only to the childhood of a race.</p> + +<p>Presently Yeager arose, yawned, and drifted inconspicuously toward the +stable that had been converted into a bedroom by the simple process of +throwing a lot of blankets on the floor. But as soon as he was out of +sight, Steve doubled across the road into the alley that ran back of the +house where Pasquale was putting up.</p> + +<p>The news about Harrison's return was disquieting. Ever since Yeager's +second arrival at Noche Buena he had been gone. What did his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> appearance +now mean? Who was the American woman he had brought back with him? Steve +was inclined to think she was probably some one of the man's dubious +acquaintances from Arixico. But of this he intended to make sure.</p> + +<p>He passed quietly up the alley and into the yard back of the big house +the insurgent general had appropriated for his headquarters. A light was +shining from one of the back upper rooms. From it, too, there came +faintly the sound of a voice, high and frightened, in which sobs and +hysteria struggled.</p> + +<p>By means of a post the Arizonian climbed to the top of the little back +porch. Leaning as far as he could toward the window of the lighted room, +he could see Pasquale and Harrison. The woman, whoever she might be, was +in the corner of the room beyond his vision. The prizefighter showed +both in face and manner a certain stiff sullenness. He was insisting +upon some point to which there was determined opposition. As the general +turned half toward him once, the range-rider saw in his little black +eyes an alert and greedy cunning he did not understand.</p> + +<p>The woman broke out into violent protest.</p> + +<p>"I won't do it. I won't. If you are a liberator, as they say you are, +you won't let him force me to it, general, will you?"</p> + +<p>At the sound of that voice Yeager's heart<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> jumped. He would have known +it among ten thousand. Little beads of perspiration broke out on his +forehead. The primitive instinct to kill seared across his brain and +left him for the moment dizzy and trembling.</p> + +<p>There was a grin on Pasquale's ugly mug. His tobacco-stained teeth +showed behind the lifted lips.</p> + +<p>"If young ladies will insist on running away with officers of mine—"</p> + +<p>"I didn't. Ask the men. I fought. See where I bit his hand," she +protested, fighting against hysterical fears.</p> + +<p>"So? But Señor Harrison says you were engaged to him."</p> + +<p>"I hate him. I've found him out. I'd rather die than—"</p> + +<p>Yeager caught the arm fling that concluded her sentence of passionate +protest.</p> + +<p>Pasquale, little black eyes twinkling, shrugged broad shoulders and +turned to Harrison.</p> + +<p>"You see. The lady has changed her mind, señor. What will you?"</p> + +<p>"What's that got to do with it? She's mine. Send for a priest and have +us married," the other man demanded bluntly.</p> + +<p>"Not so fast, amigo," remonstrated Pasquale softly. "Give her time—a +few days—quien sabe?—she may change her mind again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span></p> + +<p>Harrison choked on his anger. He was suspicious of this suavity, of this +sudden respect for a girl's wishes. Since when had the old despot become +so scrupulous as to risk offending one who had served him a good deal +and might aid him in more serious matters? The prizefighter could guess +only one reason for the general's attitude. His jealousy began to smoke +at once.</p> + +<p>"She can change her mind afterward just as well. If we're married now, +then I'm sure of her," the prizefighter insisted doggedly.</p> + +<p>Impulsively the girl swept into that part of the room within the view of +Steve. She knelt in front of Pasquale and caught at his hand.</p> + +<p>"Send me home—back to my mother. I'm only a girl. You don't make war on +girls, do you?" she pleaded.</p> + +<p>Had she only known it, the very sweetness of her troubled youth, the +shadows under the starry eyes edging the wild-rose cheeks, the allure of +her lines and soft flesh, fought potently against her desire for a +safe-conduct home. The greedy, treacherous little eyes of the insurgent +chief glittered.</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "No, señorita. That is not possible. But you shall +stay here—under the protection of Gabriel Pasquale himself. You shall +have choice—Señor Harrison if you wish, another if you prefer it so. +Take time. Perhaps—who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> knows?" He smiled and bowed with the gallantry +of a bear as he kissed her hand.</p> + +<p>"No—no. I want to go home," she sobbed.</p> + +<p>"Young ladies don't always know what is best for them. Behold, we shall +marry you to a soldier, one of rank. From the general down, you shall +have choice," Pasquale promised largely.</p> + +<p>Harrison scowled. He did not at all like the turn things were taking. +"Not as long as I'm alive," he said savagely. "She's mine, I tell you."</p> + +<p>The Mexican looked directly at him with a face as hard as jade. "So you +don't expect to live long, señor. Is that it? We shall all mourn. Yes, +indeed." He turned decisively to the white-faced girl. "Go to sleep, +muchacha. To-morrow we shall talk. Gabriel Pasquale is your friend. All +shall be well with you. None shall insult you on peril of his life. +Buenos!"</p> + +<p>With a gesture of his hand he pointed the door to Harrison.</p> + +<p>The eyes of the two men clashed stormily. It was those of the American +that finally gave way sulkily. Pasquale had power to enforce his +commands and the other knew he would not hesitate to use it.</p> + +<p>The prizefighter slouched out of the room with the general at his heels.</p> + +<p>With a little gesture that betrayed the despair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> of her sick heart the +girl turned and flung herself face down on the bed. Sobs shook her +slender body. Her fingers clutched unconsciously at the rough weave of +the blanket upon which she lay.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2><h3>THE TEXAN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Steve tapped gently on the window pane with the ball of his middle +finger. Instantly the sobbing was interrupted. The black head of hair +lifted from the pillow to listen the better. He could guess how +fearfully the heart of the girl was beating.</p> + +<p>Again he tapped on the glass. With a lithe twist of her body the girl +sat up on the bed. She waited tensely for a repetition of the sound, not +quite sure from where it had come.</p> + +<p>Her questing eyes found at last the source of it, a warning forefinger +close to the pane that seemed to urge for silence. Rising, she moved +slowly to the window, uneasy, doubtful, yet with hope beginning to stir +at her heart. She formed a cup for her eyes with her palms so as to hold +back the light while she peered through the glass into the darkness +without.</p> + +<p>Over to the left she made out the contour of a face, a brown Mexican +face with quick, eager eyes that spoke comfort to her. Her first thought +was that it belonged to a friend. Hard on the heels of that she gave a +little cry of joy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span> and began with trembling fingers to raise the window.</p> + +<p>"Steve!" she cried, laughing and crying together.</p> + +<p>And as soon as she had adjusted the window she caught his hand between +both of hers and pressed it hard. Steve was here. He would save her as +he had before. She was all right now.</p> + +<p>"Ruth! Little Ruth!" he cried softly, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Did you hear? Do you know?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Only that he brought you here, the hellhound, and that Pasquale—"</p> + +<p>He stopped, his sentence unfinished. There was no need to alarm her +about that old philanderer. Time enough for that if she scratched the +surface and found the savage beneath.</p> + +<p>"—Won't let me go home," she finished for him.</p> + +<p>"But what are you doing here? How did Harrison trap you?"</p> + +<p>"I had been strolling with Daisy Ellington after supper. It was not +late—hardly dark yet. She stopped at the hotel to talk with Miss +Winters and I started to walk home alone. I took the short cut across +the empty block just below Brinker's. He was waiting among the +cottonwoods there—he and two Mexicans. As soon as he stepped into the +light I was afraid."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why didn't you cry out?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't like to make a scene about nothing. And after that first +moment I had no time. He caught hold of me and put his hand across my +mouth. Horses were there ready saddled. He lifted me in front of him and +kept my mouth covered till we were clear of the town. It didn't matter +how much I screamed when we had reached the desert."</p> + +<p>"I didn't think even Harrison had the nerve to kidnap an Arizona girl +and bring her across the line. If he had happened to meet a bunch of +cowpunchers—"</p> + +<p>"He didn't start after me. It was you he wanted. But he found out you +weren't in town and took me instead. All the way down he talked about +you—boasted how he would marry me in spite of you and how he would take +you and have Pasquale flay you alive."</p> + +<p>Yeager lifted a warning finger. "Remember you have a friend here. +Good-night."</p> + +<p>He lowered himself quickly, slid down the porch post, and disappeared +into the darkness almost instantly.</p> + +<p>Ruth heard voices. One gave commands, the others answered mildly with +"Si, Excellency." Dim figures moved about below, one heavy, bulky, +dominating. He gestured, snapped out curt directions, and presently +vanished. Two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> guards were left. They paced up and down beneath her +window. She understood that Pasquale was providing against any chance of +escape. Half an hour ago she would have shuddered. Now she could even +smile faintly at his precautions. Steve would evade them when the right +time came.</p> + +<p>Her confidence in him, since it looked only to the results, was greater +than that he felt in his own power. The range-rider saw the difficulties +before him. He was alone in a camp of wild, ignorant natives who moved +at the nod of Pasquale. When he let himself think of Ruth as a prisoner +at the mercy of that savage old outlaw's whim, the heart of Steve failed +him. What could one man do against so many?</p> + +<p>He felt that she was perfectly safe for the present, but Yeager found it +impossible to sleep in the stable. Taking his blankets with him, he +slipped noiselessly out to the cottonwood clump back of Pasquale's +headquarters. Here, at least, he could see the light in her window and +be sure that all was well with her.</p> + +<p>As he moved noiselessly from one tree to another which gave a better +view of the window, Steve stumbled against the prostrate body of a man.</p> + +<p>Some one ripped out a sullen oath and a grip of steel caught at the +ankle of the cowpuncher.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span></p> + +<p>Taken by surprise, Yeager was dragged to the ground.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here?" demanded a voice Steve recognized instantly +as belonging to Harrison.</p> + +<p>The prisoner made no resistance. He ran into a patter of frightened, +apologetic Spanish.</p> + +<p>"What's your name?"</p> + +<p>"Pedro Cabenza, señor," replied the owner of that name. "It is so hot in +the stable. So I bring my blankets here and sleep."</p> + +<p>"Hmp!" Harrison took time for reflection. "Know where I put up?"</p> + +<p>"Si, señor."</p> + +<p>The prizefighter gave him a dollar. "Stay here. Keep an eye on that +lighted window upstairs. If anything happens—if you hear a noise—if a +woman screams, come and knock me up right away. Understand?"</p> + +<p>The docile Cabenza repeated his instructions like a parrot.</p> + +<p>"Good enough," Harrison nodded. "I'll give you another dollar when you +come. But don't wake me for nothing."</p> + +<p>"No, señor."</p> + +<p>"And you'd better keep your mouth shut unless you want your head beat +off," advised the white man as he left.</p> + +<p>The one who had given his name as Cabenza<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> grinned to himself. He was +now Harrison's hired watcher. Both of them were in league to frustrate +any deviltry on the part of Pasquale. He wondered what the prizefighter +would give to know that he had his enemy so wholly in his power, that he +had only to lay hands on him and cry out to doom him to a painful and a +violent death.</p> + +<p>Yeager dozed and wakened and dozed again. Always when he looked the +light was still burning. Toward morning he saw the figure of Ruth in the +window. When she turned away the light went out. He judged she had put +her anxieties from her and given herself to sleep at last. But not until +the camp began to stir with the renewal of life for another day did he +leave his post and return to the stable.</p> + +<p>During the morning he slept under a cottonwood and made up arrears of +rest lost while on guard. About noon Harrison came down the street and +stopped at sight of him. The man was livid with anger. Yeager could +guess the reason. He had spent a stormy ten minutes with old Pasquale +demanding his rights and had issued from the encounter without profit. +From the place where Steve was sitting he had heard the high, excited +voices. It had occurred to him that the protest of Harrison had gone +about as far as it could be safely carried, for Gabriel was both a +ruthless and a hot-tempered despot.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span></p> + +<p>Harrison sat down sullenly without speaking and stared straight in front +of him. He was boiling with impotent fury. Pasquale had the whip hand +and meant to carry things his own way. Of that he no longer had any +doubt. In bringing Ruth to Noche Buena he had made a great mistake.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to make some money, you—what's your name?" he presently +rasped out.</p> + +<p>Yeager answered with the universal formula of the land. "Si, señor. And +my name is Cabenza—Pedro Cabenza."</p> + +<p>The prizefighter glanced warily around, then lowered his voice. "I mean +a lot of money—twenty dollars, maybe."</p> + +<p>"Gold?" asked the peon, wide-eyed.</p> + +<p>"Gold. How far would you go to earn that much?"</p> + +<p>"A long way, señor."</p> + +<p>Harrison caught him by the wrist with a grip that drove the blood back. +"Listen, Cabenza. <i>Would you go as far as the camp of Garcia Farrugia?</i>" +The close-gripped, salient jaw was thrust forward. Black eyes blazed +from a set, snarling face.</p> + +<p>So, after all, the man was trafficking with the Federal governor all the +time just as he was with the Constitutionalists. Yeager had once or +twice suspected as much.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span></p> + +<p>"To the camp of Governor Farrugia," gasped Cabenza. "But—what for, +señor?"</p> + +<p>"To carry him a letter. Never mind what for. You will get your pay. Is +it not enough?"</p> + +<p>"And—Pasquale?"</p> + +<p>"Need never know. You can slip away this afternoon and be back by +to-morrow night."</p> + +<p>Cabenza shook his head regretfully. "No. I am one of the horse +wranglers. My boss would miss me if I was not here. I cannot go."</p> + +<p>The other man swore. At the same time he recognized the argument as +effective. He must find a messenger who could absent himself without +stirring up questions.</p> + +<p>"Then keep your mouth clamped," ordered Harrison. "I may be able to use +you here. Anyhow, I want you to be ready to help if I need you."</p> + +<p>He slipped a dollar into the brown palm of the peon and left him.</p> + +<p>Steve looked after him with narrowed eyes. "Mr. Harrison is liable to +bump into trouble if he don't look out. He's gone crazy with the heat, +looks like. First thing, he'll pick on the wrong greaser and Mr. +Messenger will take the letter to Pasquale instead of Farrugia. That's +about what'll happen."</p> + +<p>Something else happened first, however, that distracted the attention of +Mr. Yeager, alias<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span> Cabenza, from this regrettable possibility. A man +rode into camp, followed by a Mexican leading a pack-horse. The first +rider was straight, tall, and wide-shouldered; also he was deep-chested +and lean-loined, forty-five or thereabout, and had "Texan" written all +over his weather-beaten face and costume. At sight of him Steve gave a +silent whoop of joy. A white man had come to Noche Buena, a Texan (he +was ready to swear), and he wore his big serviceable six-guns low. Also, +he carried on his face and in his bearing the look of reckless +competence that comes only from death faced in the open fearlessly and +often.</p> + +<p>Inside of five minutes Cabenza had gathered information as follows: Adam +Holcomb was a soldier of fortune who had fought all over South America +and Mexico. During the Spanish War he had been a Rough Rider in Cuba and +later had been a volunteer officer in the Philippines. The army routine +had no attraction for him. What he liked was actual fighting. So the +outbreak of the Revolution had drawn him across the border, where he had +done much to lick the Constitutionalist troops into shape. Now he had +come to Noche Buena to teach the artillery of the Legion how to shoot +straight, after which they would all march south and take the great city +with the golden gates. Personally this Gringo was a devil, of course, +but Pasquale was a prince<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span> of devils whose business it was to keep all +lesser ones in order. So, in the Spanish equivalent of our American +slang, they should worry. Thus a comrade explained the Texan and his +presence to Pedro.</p> + +<p>Cabenza contrived to be in the way when someone was wanted to fill the +water-jug of Holcomb. Ochampa, who for the moment had charge of the +artillery officer, swooped down upon the peon and put him temporarily at +the service of his guest to fetch and carry at his orders. So Pedro +unpacked the belongings of the American officer and prepared what had to +serve as the substitute for a bath. He was so adept at this that the +captain privately decided to requisition him for his servant.</p> + +<p>Having finished this and laid out towels, Cabenza brushed the boots of +the captain outside while that gentleman splashed within the cabin. He +chose the time while he was arranging the shaving-outfit on the table to +convey a piece of information to Holcomb.</p> + +<p>"What's that? An American woman—held captive at his house by Pasquale," +repeated the soldier of fortune, astonished.</p> + +<p>"A girl, not a woman. About eighteen, maybe," supplemented Cabenza, in +Mexican, of course.</p> + +<p>"A woman from the street, I reckon. And if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> you look into it you'll find +she's here of her own free will."</p> + +<p>Steve was now stropping a razor. His back was toward the officer, but +without turning he could see him by looking in the glass.</p> + +<p>"You've got the wrong steer, captain. She's as straight a girl as ever +lived," answered Yeager in perfectly good English.</p> + +<p>Holcomb sat up straight. "Turn round, my man," he ordered crisply.</p> + +<p>The range-rider did as he was told. The light, blue-gray eyes of the +officer bored into his.</p> + +<p>"You're no Mexican," charged the Texan.</p> + +<p>"No. Arizona is where I hang up my hat."</p> + +<p>"What are you, then? A spy?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon, maybeso." Steve admitted the thrust lightly. "Got time to +hear all about it, captain?"</p> + +<p>"Go ahead."</p> + +<p>The range-rider told it, the whole story, so far as it could be related +by him. Such details as his modesty omitted Holcomb's imagination was +easily able to supply.</p> + +<p>The Texan paced up and down the room with the long, light, military +stride.</p> + +<p>"And you say Pasquale has been with her all day—that he ate lunch with +her and is riding with her now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Just watch his eyes when he looks at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> her if you're in doubt about +the old villain. There's a tiger look in them, and something else that's +worse." Yeager chanced to glance out of the window. "Here they come now +back from their ride. Why not meet them as they alight?"</p> + +<p>The captain reached for his hat and led the way down the street. Cabenza +followed him, a step or two in the rear. They reached headquarters just +as Pasquale lifted Ruth from the saddle. He held her for a moment in his +strong arms and grinned down at her frightened, fascinated eyes.</p> + +<p>"Adios, chatita!" he murmured, his little eyes dancing with triumph.</p> + +<p>She fled from him into the house, terror giving speed to her limbs.</p> + +<p>Upon Holcomb the dictator turned eyes that had grown cold and harsh +again.</p> + +<p>"Welcome, captain, welcome, to the Northern Legion," he said brusquely, +offering a gauntleted hand.</p> + +<p>They went into the house together, Pasquale's arm across the shoulder of +the Texan.</p> + +<p>"Dios, I'm glad to see you, captain," the insurgent chief ran on +quickly. "This riff-raff of mine can't hit a hillside. Hammer the +artillery into shape and I'll say gracias."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I see you have a countrywoman of mine visiting you," the American +said quietly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span></p> + +<p>"From Arizona." The Mexican laughed harshly. "We should get together +more, your country and mine. We should bind the States and the Republic +together by closer ties. A man without a wife is but a half man. +Captain, I shall marry."</p> + +<p>It was common knowledge of the camp that in his outlaw days Pasquale had +a wife and family. The sons were grown up now. The rumor ran that the +wife had found a more congenial mate and was separated from Gabriel by +common agreement. Holcomb made no reference to this free-and-easy +arrangement.</p> + +<p>"Congratulations, general. Is the lady some high-born señorita?"</p> + +<p>"The lady you have just seen is my choice—the young woman from +Arizona," answered Pasquale, flashing from under his heavy grizzled +brows a sharp, questioning look at the Texan.</p> + +<p>"Indeed! I shall be happy to meet the lady and wish her joy," replied +Holcomb lightly.</p> + +<p>"You shall, captain. She's a little reluctant yet, but Gabriel has a way +of overcoming that. I shall be married on Saturday."</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>The face of the Texan had as much expression as a piece of flint. +Pasquale, watching him warily, wondered what he was thinking behind +those hard, steel-gray eyes.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2><h3>NEAR THE END OF HIS TRAIL</h3> +</div> + +<p>Harrison strode up and down the room furiously. "Who in Mexico is this +Pasquale?" he demanded, and then answered his own question: "Scum of the +earth, a peon whipped for stealing whiskey, a hill robber and murderer. +In my country they'd take the scoundrel and hang him by the neck."</p> + +<p>"True, amigo,—all true," assented Culvera suavely, examining his +cigarette as he spoke. "But it is well to remember that walls have ears, +and therefore to whisper—when one speaks of Gabriel."</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid of him," boasted the American, but his voice fell.</p> + +<p>"I am," differed Culvera frankly. "Ramon is fond of Ramon, so he chooses +a safe time to pay his debts—and he does not advertise in advance that +he is going to settle."</p> + +<p>"Bah! You sit still and do nothing. But I—By God! I'll not stand it. He +has given it out he will be married Saturday. We'll see about that. +Maybe he'll be buried that day instead."</p> + +<p>The dark eyes of the Mexican swept him with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> a sidelong glance. If he +could do it without incurring responsibility himself, he was very +willing to spur on the fierce passion of this man.</p> + +<p>"Be careful, señor. Pasquale is dangerous."</p> + +<p>"You know he is dangerous—to Ramon Culvera. Why don't you strike and be +done with it?"</p> + +<p>"The time is not ripe. Some day—perhaps—" He let a shrug of his +shoulders finish the sentence for him.</p> + +<p>"It's always mañana with you Mexicans," sneered Harrison with a savage +lift of the lip. "You want to play it safe all the time. Why don't you +take a chance?"</p> + +<p>"I play my own cards, señor," returned Ramon equably.</p> + +<p>"You play 'em darned close to your stomach. Me, I go out on a limb oncet +in a while."</p> + +<p>"Be sure you don't stay out there—at the end of a rope," smiled the +Mexican.</p> + +<p>"They haven't grown the hemp yet that will hang Chad Harrison." The +prizefighter leaned toward him, eyes shining. "If I pull it off and make +my getaway—what then? Will you send the girl to me, wherever I am?"</p> + +<p>"You mean, if you—"</p> + +<p>"—Give Pasquale what's been coming to him for a long time."</p> + +<p>The eyes of Culvera were slits of light. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span> face was a brown mask that +covered an alert and wary attention.</p> + +<p>"I didn't hear what you said, amigo. It is better that I shouldn't. But +if I had charge of the army instead of General Pasquale my policy would +be different. I would return this Arizona girl to her home."</p> + +<p>"To her home!" broke in Harrison harshly.</p> + +<p>"To her husband," amended the Mexican significantly, adding after an +instant—"who is a good friend of mine."</p> + +<p>"You'll stand pat on that, will you?"</p> + +<p>"It would be my purpose to reward my friends—those who have helped the +cause—if by any chance command of the Legion should fall to me."</p> + +<p>Harrison glared at him suspiciously. "You're so smooth I don't know +whether I can believe you or not. You'd sell your own father out for the +right price."</p> + +<p>"I pay my debts, señor—both kinds," suggested the Mexican, unmoved at +this outburst.</p> + +<p>"See that you do."</p> + +<p>"Be sure I shall, amigo," returned Culvera, looking straight at him from +narrowed eyes that told nothing.</p> + +<p>The prizefighter took another turn up and down the room. He was anxious +and harassed as well as driven hard by hatred and jealousy.</p> + +<p>"The wolf is having me watched. His orders<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> are that I'm not to be +allowed to leave camp. I don't get any chance to see him alone. If you +ask me, I think he's fixing to have me knifed in the dark," Harrison +burst out.</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't wonder," agreed the young officer with a pleasant smile. He +lived in an atmosphere where such things were not uncommon, and on +occasion could take a hand himself.</p> + +<p>"Fat lot you care," complained the photoplay actor sullenly. "You +wouldn't lift a hand to save your pardner."</p> + +<p>Culvera patted him on the shoulder cheerfully. "What can I do? Do I not +live under the shadow myself? Can I tell when the knife will fall on me? +He is without bowels of mercy, this son of a thief. But this I know: if +you are watched, you must not stay here. Gabriel will be suspicious lest +we are plotting something against him. Good luck, amigo."</p> + +<p>The heavyweight took away with him a heavy heart. He had reached the +stage where his hand was against that of every man. Culvera he did not +trust at all out of his sight beyond the point where the interests of +the young Mexican were parallel to his. In the whole camp he had no +friend, not even the girl for whom he fought. As for Pasquale, Harrison +had told the truth. He believed the general had doomed him. Unless he +struck first, he was a lost man. Why had he been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span> fool enough to boast +to the old scoundrel what he would do? His temper had robbed him of the +chance to kill and then escape.</p> + +<p>He passed down the street toward the river. A dozen boys and young men +sat in the shadow of the adobe wall that fronted the road opposite one +of the corrals. It chanced that Harrison dropped his handkerchief at +this point and stooped to pick it up.</p> + +<p>Thirty minutes later a barefooted youth came down to the river carrying +an olla for water. Harrison lay sleeping under a cottonwood that edged +the trail. One arm was outstretched so that the closed fist lay almost +across the path.</p> + +<p>The soldier boy whistled gayly as he walked. Oddly enough, just as he +reached the sleeping Gringo, the outflung arm lifted abruptly from the +ground for an inch or two. A little package shot four feet up into the +air and was caught deftly by the barefoot trooper as it descended.</p> + +<p>The lips of Harrison barely moved. "Ride to-night, Enrique. Colonel +Farrugia will also reward you well."</p> + +<p>"Si, señor," nodded Enrique, and went on his way.</p> + +<p>The face of the boy was toward the camp on the return journey. The +American was still fast asleep. The lad went whistling past him without +any sign of recognition.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span></p> + +<p>Several times during the next hour Harrison took a long pull from a +bottle he carried in his coat pocket. After a time he rose and walked +heavily down the main street of the village until he came to the house +where Captain Holcomb had been put up.</p> + +<p>The Texan was sitting on his porch smoking a pipe. Behind him, a few +feet away, Cabenza was cleaning a rifle for his new master.</p> + +<p>"I wanta talk to you about something, Captain Holcomb," announced the +film actor.</p> + +<p>The soldier looked at him steadily. "Go to it," he ordered curtly.</p> + +<p>"This is private business."</p> + +<p>Holcomb did not turn his head or raise his voice. "Pedro, vamos."</p> + +<p>The feet of Cabenza could be heard hitting the dust as he vanished +around the corner of the house.</p> + +<p>Without beating around the bush Harrison came to his subject. He jerked +a thumb over his right shoulder.</p> + +<p>"It's that girl up at the house there I want to talk about."</p> + +<p>"What about her?"</p> + +<p>"He's got no business keeping her there. She's a straight girl."</p> + +<p>"Is she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. She is."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then why did you bring her here?" Holcomb's question was like the +thrust of a sword.</p> + +<p>"Because I was a fool."</p> + +<p>"Better give things their right names. You were a damned villain."</p> + +<p>A dull flush rose to the cheeks of the prizefighter. "All right. Let it +go at that. I guess you're right. What I want to know now is whether +you're going to stand for Pasquale's play. He's got one wife +already—half a dozen, far as I know. You going to let him put this +wedding farce over without a kick?"</p> + +<p>"Can I stop it?"</p> + +<p>"You can register a roar, can't you?"</p> + +<p>"Would it do any good? Did yours?"</p> + +<p>"You're different. He needs you to drill this ragged bunch of hoboes he +calls an army. Pasquale has a lot of respect for you. He talked a lot +about you before you came."</p> + +<p>"If you want to know, I've already spoken to him about it."</p> + +<p>"What did he say?"</p> + +<p>"Gave me to understand that if I'd attend to my business he'd mind his. +And I'm going to do it," concluded Holcomb with sharp decision.</p> + +<p>"You mean you're going to lie down like a yellow dog and quit, that +you'll let this wolf take that lamb and ruin her life! Is that what you +mean?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span></p> + +<p>Holcomb sat forward in his chair, so that his strong, lean, sunburnt +face was as close to the other man as possible. "You talk both like a +coward and a fool. You brought the girl here against her will. If +Pasquale had been willing to let you force her into a marriage with you, +I wouldn't have heard a squeal out of you. But he butted in. He took her +from you. Now you come hollering to me, you quitter. Instead of fighting +it out to a finish, you run to me. Talk about yellow curs. Faugh!"</p> + +<p>"What can I do?" exploded Harrison in a rage. "He has four men watching +her room at night now. Every time I move his cursed spies follow me. +There are two of them over there now. Pasquale won't even let me see +him. He's aimin' to have me killed, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Serve you right," the soldier of fortune flung at him as he rose from +his chair. "Killing is none too good for your kind. Pity some one didn't +stamp you out before you brought that little girl down here to this sink +of perdition."</p> + +<p>Harrison swallowed down his anger. "That's all right. I'll stand for it. +If I didn't believe it myself, you'd have a heluvatime getting away with +such talk. But it goes just as you lay it down. I'm a skunk and all the +rest of it. Now, listen! I ain't such a four-flusher as to lay down my +hand before I've played it out. See! I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> not through with Gabriel +Pasquale. Watch my smoke. Him and me hasn't come to a settlement yet."</p> + +<p>"Sounds to me like whiskey talk," answered the Texan scornfully. "Men +who do the kind of things you have done don't have the guts to play out +a losing game."</p> + +<p>"Some do, some don't. By your reputation you're game. All right. Keep +your eyes open, captain."</p> + +<p>Snarling, the man turned away and walked down the street. Holcomb +watched him go. There was something purposeful in the way the +heavyweight moved. Perhaps, after all, he would make a fighting finish +of it. The captain fervently hoped he would drag old Pasquale down with +him before they wiped him off the map. But he knew the betting odds were +all the other way.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2><h3>A STAGE PREPARED FOR TRAGEDY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Not knowing when his opportunity might come, Harrison kept his horse +saddled most of the time. He knew that extra mounted patrols were kept +at the ends of the streets and at other points on the mesa surrounding +the town, and that he would have to take a chance of being able to run +the gauntlet in safety. If luck favored him, he might win past these. +For one thing the Mexicans were very poor shots, a little the worst he +had ever seen. It might be, too, that he would have darkness in his +favor, though he could not count on this.</p> + +<p>By Enrique he had sent to Governor Farrugia a map of the camp, giving +detailed information as to the number and position of the troops and +showing from what direction the camp could best be attacked. In his +letter he had urged immediate action, on the ground that a part of the +men were absent with Major Ochampa on a foraging expedition. If Farrugia +rose to the occasion, he hoped in the confusion of the assault to escape +with Ruth.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile he waited, and the hours slipped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span> away. It was now Friday +noon, and the wedding was to be Saturday morning.</p> + +<p>Four denim-clad troopers and a sergeant marched raggedly down the street +and stopped in front of Harrison's adobe house.</p> + +<p>"The general wishes to see the señor," explained the sergeant.</p> + +<p>The American knew the crucial hour had come. This was the first move of +Pasquale in the programme to destroy him. He made no protest, but +stepped forward at once, leading his horse by the bridle. The sergeant +was a little dubious about the horse, but his orders did not cover the +point and he made no objection.</p> + +<p>Pasquale was standing in front of his house on the porch, bow legs wide +apart and hands crossed behind his back. Harrison stopped directly in +front of him. The soldiers moved back a dozen yards.</p> + +<p>"Well," demanded the heavyweight.</p> + +<p>"I sent for you to explain something to me, sir," said the Mexican +general harshly.</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"This letter and map."</p> + +<p>Pasquale stepped forward, handed two papers to Harrison, and quickly +stepped back till his back was against the wall of the house. Something +in his manner stirred the banked suspicions of the American. Already his +nerves were keyed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span> to unusual tension, for he knew the moment of crux +was hurrying toward him. Why had the troopers fallen back so far? Why +was Pasquale so anxious to put a wide space between himself and his +prisoner?</p> + +<p>The eyes of the film actor, clouded with doubt of what was about to take +place, fell to the papers in his hand. He was looking at the letter and +the map he had sent to Governor Farrugia.</p> + +<p>Instantly his mind was made up. But as the blue barrel of his revolver +flashed into sight there came the simultaneous roar of a volley. The +force of it seemed to lift Harrison from his feet. Before his sagging +knees had touched the dust the man was dead.</p> + +<p>Pasquale drew a forty-five and fired three times into the lax and +huddled body. He nodded to the men in the smoke-filled windows upstairs.</p> + +<p>"Come down and bury this Gringo dog's body," he ordered.</p> + +<p>They trooped down noisily. Pasquale kicked the body carelessly with his +toe. "He was a traitor to the cause. The proof is in that paper. Hand it +to me, Juan."</p> + +<p>The general read the letter aloud. "He would have betrayed us all but +for the patriotism of a messenger who would not be bribed. The man +deserved death. Not so?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span></p> + +<p>They shouted approval and added, "Viva Pasquale!" in an enthusiastic +roar. Ramon Culvera, who had just arrived on the scene, led the cheering +with much vigor.</p> + +<p>From every house men, boys, and women poured. The streets filled with +noisy patriots. Guns popped here and there to ventilate the energy of +their owners. Troopers galloped up and down the road in clouds of dust +shooting into the air as they rode. Boys who would have run their legs +off to obey a whim of Harrison spat contemptuously upon the face of the +"Gringo cabrone."</p> + +<p>Drawn by the hubbub, Captain Holcomb hurried from his house. He looked +down at the lifeless body four soldiers were carrying away and turned to +Pasquale for an explanation.</p> + +<p>The general handed him the papers that proved Harrison's guilt. "I have +executed a traitor, captain. The dog would have sold us out to Farrugia. +Is his punishment not just?"</p> + +<p>Holcomb looked the papers over and handed them back to his chief. "He +got what was coming to him," he answered quietly.</p> + +<p>"I have witnesses to show that he was drawing his revolver to +assassinate me at the very moment he was shot. My men were just in +time."</p> + +<p>"It was fortunate for you your men happened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span> to be so handy," replied +the American officer with just a suggestion of dryness.</p> + +<p>For Holcomb knew, just as Yeager did, that the scene had been set by +Pasquale for the killing. His men had been stationed in the windows +above, unknown to the victim. The heavyweight had been tempted to reach +for his weapon by the certainty that he had come to the end of the +passage. Doing so, he had given the signal for his own death. Had he +failed to do this, the Mexican general would have sprung the trap +himself in another minute. Fortunately this had not been necessary. +Pasquale was in a position to prove to the United States Government, in +case it became inquisitive, that when the man had been confronted with +his guilt he had tried to kill him and had been shot down red-handed.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later Holcomb came into his house and found Steve cleaning +a pair of revolvers. The captain tossed his hat on the bed and sat down.</p> + +<p>"Up to us, looks like," he commented.</p> + +<p>Yeager nodded silently.</p> + +<p>"Harrison hadn't a look-in. The old scoundrel had the cards stacked," +continued the officer.</p> + +<p>"Yep. Chad sat in against a cold deck. He made a big mistake when he let +the old man take the play."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span></p> + +<p>"Everything fixed for to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Far as it can be. We've just got to take a big chance and trust to luck +being with us," answered Steve.</p> + +<p>"Guess you'll have to make your own luck. I spoke to Pasquale about a +game here to-night. He grabbed at the bait. Said he would bring Culvera +and Ochampa. I'll make a long session of it so as to give you all the +time you need."</p> + +<p>"Better have a boy here to serve the liquor and cigars. If you should +hear shooting, and Gabriel gets anxious about it, you can send the boy +to find out what it's about. That will give us a few minutes more to get +away."</p> + +<p>"Sure your dope is strong enough?"</p> + +<p>"The man who fixed it ought to know. He's a registered druggist at +Phœnix," replied the range-rider.</p> + +<p>Yeager had never before sat in the anxious seat as nervously as he did +during the next few hours. His nature was not of the kind to borrow +trouble. Usually he could accept responsibility without letting it worry +him. But to-night he was playing for big stakes—his own life certainly +was in the hazard, probably those of Farrar and Threewit, possibly that +of the Texan. And what weighed with him more than all these was the fate +of the young girl in the back room upstairs waiting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span> with a leaden heart +for this dreadful thing that was to befall her. It was in the game that +a man must take his fighting chance. But a girl—and above all girls +Ruth—the thought of it stabbed his heart like a knife.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2><h3>A CONSPIRACY</h3> +</div> + +<p>In settling accounts with Harrison the Mexican general had prepared the +scene, had arranged every detail of it carefully so as to eliminate any +possible chance the heavyweight might otherwise have. Yeager had no +intention of letting Pasquale fix the conditions against him as he had +against the prizefighter.</p> + +<p>"Old Gabriel was holding four aces and Chad only a busted flush. +Pasquale knew it all the time. Harrison must 'a' guessed it too. But if +he did, I don't see why he waited for the old man to spring his trap," +said Steve.</p> + +<p>"It's a matter of temperament, I reckon. Some fellows are game enough +when you put 'em up against trouble good and hard, but they hang back +and wait for it to come to 'em. I expect Harrison didn't know how to +play his hand. Looked that way to me when he talked with me. Likely he +figured he had better wait and see what happened," surmised the captain.</p> + +<p>"He waited too long."</p> + +<p>"Till it was too late to call for a new deal. He had to play those dealt +him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span></p> + +<p>"Different here. We'll do the dealing ourselves, captain. Pasquale has +been through the deck and taken out all the big picture cards, but I +expect I can rustle up a six-full that will come handy." Yeager smiled +as he spoke at the .45 he was bestowing about his person.</p> + +<p>Together they set the table for poker, putting on it two new decks, one +blue and one red, and a box of chips that had seen service in many a +midnight fray. On a side table were cigars, cigarettes, and liquor in +plenty. Holcomb intended to see that his guests were properly +entertained while Steve played the bigger and more dangerous game +outside.</p> + +<p>The range-rider knew that the odds were against him, that any one of +fifty trifling accidents might bring to failure the plan he had made. +All he could do was to make his preparations as skillfully as he could +and then try to carry them out coolly and with determination.</p> + +<p>The Mexican boy who had been hired to act as an attendant on the +card-players arrived and Yeager took his leave. The captain followed him +to the porch.</p> + +<p>"Good luck, Steve," he said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Same to you, captain. We'll talk this all over across the line in God's +country some time."</p> + +<p>"Sure," nodded Holcomb. "Well, so-long."</p> + +<p>The younger man answered the nod casually<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span> and turned away down the +street. Neither of them thought of shaking hands. Whatever was to happen +was all in the day's work. Both of them belonged to that type of +Westerner which sees a thing through without any dramatics. That this +happened to be a particularly critical thing had no effect on their +manner.</p> + +<p>Holcomb lit a cigar and sat down on the porch to wait for his guests. +They came presently. First were Pasquale and Ochampa, rough and ready as +to clothes, unshaven, betraying continually the class from which they +had risen. Culvera dropped in after a few minutes. He had discarded his +uniform and was in the picturesque regalia of the young Mexican +cavalier. From jingling silver spurs to the costly gold-laced sombrero +he was every inch the dandy. His manners were the pink of urbanity. +Nothing was lacking in particular to the affectionate deference he +showed his chief. It suggested somehow the love of a son and the +admiration of a devoted admirer.</p> + +<p>The general was riding a wave of exhilaration. He had trodden down +another of his enemies and was about to take to himself the spoils of +the battle. Still in his vigorous prime, he was assured the stars were +beckoning him to take the place in Mexico City that neither Madero nor +Huerta had been strong enough to hold. He promised himself to settle +down to moderation, to have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span> done with the wild drinking-bouts that +still occasionally interfered with his efficiency. Meanwhile, to-night +he was again saying farewell to his bachelor days. He drank liberally +but not excessively.</p> + +<p>Ochampa proposed the health and happiness of the bride. It was drunk +with enthusiasm. The general gave them the United States, the sister +republic to the north, and spoke affectingly of his desire to promote a +better feeling between the countries by this marriage. The host had not +expected his poker party to develop so much oratory, but he rose briefly +to the occasion. The subject of his remarks was, "A United Mexico."</p> + +<p>But it was Culvera who capped the climax. He rose, wineglass in hand, +and waited impressively for silence. For five minutes his tongue flowed +on in praises of the Liberator of the people. He heaped superlatives on +extravagant approval after the fashion of our political orators.</p> + +<p>"Need I put a name to this patriot and hero who has won the unbounded +love and loyalty of my youth?" he asked rotundly. "Need I name the +Bolivar, the Washington of Mexico, the next president of this great +republic? If so, I but repeat the name that is on the lips of all the +thousands of our people to whom he is as a father—Gabriel Pasquale."</p> + +<p>Holcomb smiled behind the hand that stroked his mustache. There was +nobody present who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span> did not know pretty accurately how far Ramon's +attachment to his chief went. Gabriel himself, who embraced him +affectionately in thanks, had not the least doubt. But if he had no +illusions in the matter, he did not intend on that account to warn his +lieutenant prematurely that he was next on the list to Harrison.</p> + +<p>Poker presently absorbed their attention. Holcomb was the genial host, +watchful of their wants and solicitous that they should be supplied. No +sign of anxiety betrayed that he was keyed up to a high nervous tension. +He told stories, laughed at those of the others, high spaded for drinks +(though as a matter of fact he was as host furnishing the liquor), made +post-mortem examinations of the deck, and otherwise showed a proper +interest. It was quite necessary that when Pasquale looked back over the +evening with later developments in mind he should not be able to find +any intimations that his host was accessory to the plan to escape.</p> + +<p>Hour after hour slipped away. The captain began to let himself hope that +the forlorn hope of Yeager had brought safety to his friends. Surely by +this time he must either have won or lost his throw for liberty.</p> + +<p>A single shot broke the stillness of the night.</p> + +<p>Pasquale, dealing, stopped with a card in his hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span></p> + +<p>"Funny thing how the guns of sentries are always going off +accidentally," remarked Holcomb casually. "Boy, look to the glasses of +these gentlemen."</p> + +<p>The deal was finished. Culvera opened the pot. The captain stayed. +Ochampa hesitated.</p> + +<p>One shot, a second, and then a fusillade of them shattered the quiet.</p> + +<p>Pasquale flung down his cards and rose hurriedly, overturning his chair. +"Mil diablos! What's to pay?" he cried.</p> + +<p>The others followed him out of the room and house. He ran down the +street as fast as a boy. Already men were emerging from houses half +dressed. The sound of shots came from back of the general's +headquarters. Pasquale doubled around the house and vaulted a fence. He +butted into an excited group and flung men to right and left.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>A soldier pointed to the open window of the room that had been occupied +by Ruth Seymour. "She's gone, Your Excellency."</p> + +<p>"Gone! Gone where?" roared Gabriel.</p> + +<p>"Heaven knows. Her friends have rescued her."</p> + +<p>Pasquale broke into a storm of curses.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2><h3>TRAPPED</h3> +</div> + +<p>After leaving Holcomb, Yeager walked down to the river-bed, followed the +bank for a couple of hundred yards, and crept forward on all fours +through the alfalfa pasture to the barb-wire fence that paralleled the +road at some distance. He crawled beneath the lowest wire and moved +through the mesquite to a point from which he could see the building +where Farrar and Threewit were held prisoners. Two guards with rifles +across their shoulders paced up and down outside.</p> + +<p>Here Steve lay motionless for about half an hour. He believed that +before the poker game began some one of the party would drop around to +see that all was quiet and regular in the camp. His guess was a good +one. Pasquale himself, arm in arm with Ochampa, made the rounds and +stopped for a moment to speak to the sentries in front of the prison. +The man crouched in the bear grass could tell that Gabriel was in high +good-humor. He jested with the men and clapped them on the shoulder +jovially. He laughed as heartily at his own witticisms as they did.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span></p> + +<p>"There shall be mescal to-morrow for the whole army to drink the health +of the Liberator and his bride. See to it, Ochampa," he ordered as they +walked away.</p> + +<p>"Viva Pasquale the Liberator," cried the sentries in a fine fervor of +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Presently the man in hiding stole quietly to the road and advanced down +it at a leisurely pace.</p> + +<p>"Promising them mescal, eh?" he murmured. "Well, I'll bet a bird in the +hand is worth twenty or most sixteen in the bush." He patted +affectionately a bottle that lay snug in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Who goes?" demanded one of the prison guards as he approached.</p> + +<p>"Pedro Cabenza."</p> + +<p>Steve chatted with them for a few moments before he produced his bird in +the hand. They told him of what Pasquale had promised. Slyly he looked +around to see that they were alone and drew from his pocket the bottle.</p> + +<p>"Ho, compañero! Behold what I have. Gringo whiskey—better far than +mescal," he cried softly as he handed the treasure to one of the guards.</p> + +<p>The man glanced around hurriedly, even as had Cabenza, then tilted the +mouth of the bottle over his lips and let a long stiff drink gurgle down +his throat. He patted his fat paunch contentedly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span> and handed the bottle +to his companion. The second guard also drank deeply.</p> + +<p>Cabenza put an arm across the shoulders of each and drew their heads +close while he whispered confidential scandal about Pasquale and Ramon +Culvera. The two men listened greedily, eager for more. It happened that +there was no truth in the salacious tidbits which Pedro retailed, but he +invented glibly and that did just as well.</p> + +<p>The heads of his listeners began to nod. They murmured drowsy +interjections and leaned more heavily upon his arms. Ineffectually they +tried to shake off the lassitude that was creeping over their senses.</p> + +<p>"Keep watch, brother, while I take just forty winks," begged one, and +fairly thrust his rifle into the hand of Yeager.</p> + +<p>The soldier staggered to the adobe wall and slumped down beside the +door. His eyes closed, fluttered open again, shut a second time. They +did not open. He was fast asleep.</p> + +<p>The second guard sat down beside him and smiled up sleepily at the +standing man. "Manuel sleeps on duty. He is—a fool. I do—not—sleep. +No, I—I—"</p> + +<p>His head drooped on his chest. Steve took the rifle that fell from his +relaxed hand.</p> + +<p>Instantly the American was tapping gently on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> the door. +"Threewit—Farrar!" he called softly. "This is Steve."</p> + +<p>There was the sound of quick footsteps. A voice within answered in a +whisper.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Steve. This is Frank."</p> + +<p>From his pocket the range-rider took a bunch of skeleton keys. It was no +trouble to find one that would unlock the door, but in addition to this +fastening there was a padlock. With a hatchet which he had brought +Yeager pried the staple out. In another moment the door was open.</p> + +<p>"Help me drag these fellows inside," ordered the cowpuncher, taking +command promptly. "Frank, tear one of those blankets into strips. We've +got to tie their hands and feet and gag them. Shuck your coat, Threewit. +You've got to wear this fellow's blouse and sombrero. You, too, Frank. +It's Manuel's castaways for you. Move lively, boys. This is surely going +to be our busy evening."</p> + +<p>"What's the programme?" asked Farrar, doing what he was told to do.</p> + +<p>Steve explained briefly. "Old Pasquale has got Ruth Seymour here at his +house. He intends to marry her to-morrow. I don't mean he shall. A good +friend of mine is entertaining the old scoundrel to-night and some of +the other high moguls in camp. My notion is to slip into old Gabriel's +headquarters and rescue Ruth."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span></p> + +<p>"Has Ruth been here ever since she came down with Harrison that time he +lied to her about you being wounded?" asked Threewit. "We were told you +butted in and took her home."</p> + +<p>"I did. Harrison went to Los Robles later and brought her by force. He +was looking for me and bumped into her by chance. His idea was to marry +her as soon as they reached camp. But Pasquale balked. He took a fancy +to Ruth himself."</p> + +<p>While Yeager talked his fingers were busy every moment. From long usage +he was expert at roping and tying. Many a time he had thrown the diamond +hitch while packing on mountain trails. His skill served him well now. +He trussed the guards as if they had been packs for the saddle, binding +them hand and feet so that they could not move.</p> + +<p>"We heard that an American had been killed in camp to-day. We've been +worried for fear it might have been you, Steve," said the camera man.</p> + +<p>"It was Harrison. He tried to sell Pasquale out to Farrugia and the old +fox got his letter. Pasquale accused him of his treachery and had him +assassinated on the spot. Better pull that sombrero lower over your +face, Threewit. And keep your hands out of the light as much as you can. +They're too white for this section of the country."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span></p> + +<p>"What if some one talks to me? I can't put over their lingo."</p> + +<p>"Just grunt. I'll do what talking is necessary. All right. We'll make +tracks, boys."</p> + +<p>They stepped outside. Yeager relocked the door and drove the staple back +into the wood with the end of his rifle by steady pressure and not by +blows.</p> + +<p>Steve led them through the bear grass into the pasture and across it to +the river-bank. Here, under the heavy shadows of the overhanging +cottonwoods, he outlined his plans.</p> + +<p>Threewit spoke aloud his fears. "But, good Lord! what chance have we +got? It's a cinch we can't put four more guards out of business without +being seen. And if we are caught—" His voice failed him.</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher looked at him, and then at Farrar. The camera man was +pale, but his eyes met those of his friend steadily. Steve judged he +would do to tie to, that his nerve would pull him through. But the +director was plainly shaken with fears. He was not a coward, but the +privations and anxieties of the past ten days had got on his nerves. His +lips twitched and his fat hand trembled. His life had fallen in too soft +and easy places for this sort of thing.</p> + +<p>The cowboy reassured him gently, even as he rearranged his plans on the +spot. "We're going to pull it off, but as you say there is a chance we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span> +won't make it. I'm going to leave you in the corral with the horses. If +Frank and I should slip up and get caught you'll still have a chance to +get away."</p> + +<p>"I'm going through with it just the same as you boys," insisted the +director shakily.</p> + +<p>"You're going to do as I say, Threewit. I'm elected boss of this rodeo. +One of us has got to stay by the horses to make sure they're ready when +we need 'em. That's going to be you. You're to sit right steady on the +job till we come. If you hear shooting,—and if we don't show up in a +reasonable time after that,—light out and save your hide. Keep that +star—see, the bright one close down to the horizon—keep it right in +front of you all night. By daybreak you ought to be across the line."</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to ride away and leave you boys and Ruth here. What do +you take me for?" demanded Threewit huskily.</p> + +<p>Steve put a hand on the shoulder of the little man. "You're all right, +Billie," he said, with the affectionate smile that men as well as women +loved. "We all know you'll do to take along any time when we need a man +that's on the level. You wait there at the corral. If we show up, good. +If we don't—well, we'll be beyond help. There'll be nothing left for +you to do but burn the wind."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span></p> + +<p>Frank swallowed hard. "What Steve says goes with me, Billie."</p> + +<p>"Good." Yeager turned briskly to the business in hand. "We might as well +be on our way, boys. There's no hurry, because I want Pasquale and +Culvera to get settled at their game. But I reckon we'll drift along +easy like."</p> + +<p>They waded the river, which at its deepest did not reach to their +calves, and scrambled up the opposite bank to a bench of shale. Yeager, +after a short search, found hidden under the foliage of a prickly pear +the rope he had left there some hours earlier. They were in a large +fenced pasture where were kept the horses of the officers. At one end +could be seen dimly the outline of a little corral.</p> + +<p>"You boys head across that way and wait for me. The remuda is at the +other end of the pasture under the care of a boy," explained the +cowpuncher.</p> + +<p>"Hadn't I better go along with you in case of trouble?" asked Farrar.</p> + +<p>"There isn't going to be any trouble. I'm getting the horses for +Pasquale. See?"</p> + +<p>After the others had left him, Steve lit a cigarette and sauntered to +the far end of the field. Presently he gave a call that brought an +answer. The horses were grazing in a loose herd that covered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span> perhaps a +third of an acre. From behind them emerged a youth on horseback.</p> + +<p>"I want four horses in a hurry," announced the range-rider.</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind what for, compadre. I didn't ask old Gabriel what for when +he sent me," grumbled the messenger.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you say for Pasquale?" The young man was preparing his rope +swiftly and efficiently. "Did the general say what horses?"</p> + +<p>"He named the roan with the white stockings and the white-nosed +buckskin."</p> + +<p>"Then he's going to travel fast and far. Why, in the devil's name, since +he is going to be married in the morning?"</p> + +<p>"Why does the general always do what isn't expected? The saints know. I +don't," growled Steve.</p> + +<p>Both of them were expert ropers. In five minutes the American was +swallowed in the darkness. He was astride the bare back of the buckskin +and was leading the other ponies. As soon as he knew he was safely out +of sight and hearing, he deflected toward the corral.</p> + +<p>His friends were waiting for him anxiously. Steve dropped lightly to the +ground.</p> + +<p>"Hold the horses a minute, Frank," he said.</p> + +<p>Striding to a feed-stall filled with alfalfa, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span> tossed the hay aside +and dragged to the light a saddle. Presently he uncovered a second, a +third, and a fourth.</p> + +<p>"Brought them here last night—stole them from the storehouse," he +explained casually.</p> + +<p>"You didn't overlook any bets—thought of everything, even to +saddle-blankets and water-bags already full," contributed Farrar, +digging up these supplies from the alfalfa.</p> + +<p>Steve cinched the saddles himself, though Farrar was a fair horseman. If +it came to a pinch the turning of a saddle might spoil everything, and +so far as he could the range-rider was forestalling any accidents that +might be due to carelessness.</p> + +<p>"How long am I to wait for you?" asked Threewit.</p> + +<p>"We'd ought to be back inside of an hour and a half—if luck's with us. +But we may be delayed by some one hanging around. Give us two hours or +even two and a half—unless hell begins to pop." Steve looked at his +watch in the moonlight. "Say till twelve o'clock. Of course, when you +go, you'll leave the other horses here on the chance that we come later. +You'd better ride that round-bellied bay."</p> + +<p>"Am I to follow the star right up the hill?"</p> + +<p>"No. Better take the draw. The sentinels will be on the hill. Likely +they'll see you and shoot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span> at you. But don't stop, even if they're +close. Keep a-going. They can't hit a barn door."</p> + +<p>"Neither can I," lamented the director.</p> + +<p>"Then you'll all be safe." Yeager turned to Farrar. "Come on, Frank."</p> + +<p>The two crossed the pasture to the river and waded through the shallow +stream to the other side. They remained in the shadows of the bank, +following the bend of the river as it circled the village. Through the +cottonwoods they crept toward the rear of the two-story house where +Pasquale lived and Ruth was held prisoner.</p> + +<p>From a sandy spot at the foot of a cotton wood tree Yeager dug a rope +ladder.</p> + +<p>"Been making it while I was night-herding the remuda," he told Farrar in +answer to a surprised question.</p> + +<p>"Beats me you didn't make an auto for us to get away in," answered his +admiring friend with a grin.</p> + +<p>"Wait here," whispered Steve. "I'm going forward to look the ground +over. Keep your eyes open in case I give a signal."</p> + +<p>The range-rider snaked his way toward the house, moving so slowly and +noiselessly that Farrar lost sight of him entirely and began to wonder +where he had gone. It must have been nearly twenty minutes later that he +caught a glimpse of him without his rifle. Yeager was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span> engaged in +confidential talk with a guard in uniform. Frank saw the bottle pass +from his friend to the Mexican, who took a pull at it. A second guard +joined the two presently. He also took a drink.</p> + +<p>The three disappeared together into the shadowy darkness of the house +wall. Farrar was wondering what had happened when a single figure +emerged into the moonlight and made a signal for him to come forward.</p> + +<p>Yeager did not wait for him, but climbed up the post of the back porch +as he had done once before. The camera man was on hand by the time Steve +reached the roof. He looked up silently while his friend reached across +and rapped on the window of a lighted room. The sash was raised very +gently.</p> + +<p>Ruth leaned out. "Is it you, Steve?" Her voice was tremulous and +tearful. It was a safe guess she had been sobbing her misery into a +pillow.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>He caught hold of the edge of the window and swung across, working +himself up and in by sheer power of muscle. Rapidly he fastened the end +of the rope ladder to the head of the bed, which he first half lifted +and half dragged to the window. The rest of the ladder he threw out.</p> + +<p>"Ready, Ruth?" he asked, turning to her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span></p> + +<p>She nodded. He was offering his arm to help her through the window when +a frightened call came from below.</p> + +<p>"Steve!"</p> + +<p>He looked down. A Mexican trooper, one of those set to guard the front +of the house, was approaching. A glance was enough to show that he knew +something to be wrong. His startled eyes passed from Farrar to the rope +ladder. They followed it from the ground to the window. He stopped, +almost under the window. The camera man, taken aback, did not know what +to do. Was he to run the risk of a shot? Even while he hesitated the man +in uniform reached for a revolver.</p> + +<p>Yeager knew what to do, and he did it promptly. Sweeping Ruth back from +the window, he clambered through himself and poised his body for the +leap. The sentry looked up again, saw what was about to happen, and let +out a startled scream at the same instant that he flung up an arm and +fired. Steve felt a sharp sting in his leg as he descended through the +air. He landed astride on the shoulders of the Mexican. The man went to +earth, hammered down so hard that the breath was driven from his body.</p> + +<p>The arm of the range-rider rose and fell once. In his hand was the blue +barrel of a revolver. The corrugated butt of the .45 had crashed into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span> +the thick matted hair of the Mexican. But it had done its work. Yeager +rose quickly. The soldier lay still.</p> + +<p>Already Ruth was coming down the swaying ladder. She dropped the last +few rounds with a rush, plump into the arms of Steve.</p> + +<p>"Let us hurry—hurry," she cried.</p> + +<p>It was time to be gone, if not too late. Already men were converging +upon them from different sides. Others were bawling orders for soldiers +to turn out.</p> + +<p>Steve went down almost as quickly as he had risen. His leg had given way +unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>Before he reached his feet again his revolver was out and doing +business.</p> + +<p>"Fire at their legs, Frank. All we want to do is to stop them. Ruth, you +run ahead, straight for the trees. We'll be with you in a minute," +Yeager gave orders quietly.</p> + +<p>The girl flashed one look at him, found assurance in his strong, lean +face, and obeyed without a word.</p> + +<p>Farrar's rifle was already scattering bullets rather wildly into the +night. Lead spattered against the adobe wall behind them. But the +attackers were checked. Their fire was of a desultory character. There +was such a thing as being too impetuous. Who were these men they were +assailing? Perhaps they were acting under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span> orders of Pasquale. Better +not be too rash. So the mind of the peon soldiers decided.</p> + +<p>As soon as Ruth had reached the shelter of the grove her friends moved +to join her. They were halfway across the open when the cowpuncher +plunged to the ground again.</p> + +<p>The camera man turned and ran back to him. "What is it, Steve? Have they +hit you?" he asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Plugged a pill into my laig as I took the elevator down from the second +story. Gimme a hand up."</p> + +<p>Frank put an arm around his waist as a support and they reached cover +just as the leg failed for a third time. Yeager crawled forward a few +yards on his knees into the underbrush.</p> + +<p>Soft arms slid around his neck and shoulder as someone plumped down +beside him.</p> + +<p>"You're wounded. You've been shot," Ruth breathed tremulously.</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented Yeager. "Hand me your rifle, Frank."</p> + +<p>They exchanged weapons. Steve had already made up his mind exactly what +was best to do.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to stay here awhile and hold them back. You go on with Ruth, +Frank. Leave a horse for me. I'll be along later," he explained.</p> + +<p>"We're not going away to leave you here," protested Ruth indignantly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span></p> + +<p>His voice was so matter of fact and his manner so competent that she had +already drawn back, half ashamed, from the caressing support to which +her feelings had driven her.</p> + +<p>He turned on her eyes cool and steely. "You're going to do as I say, +girl. You're wasting time for all of us every moment you stay. Take her, +Frank."</p> + +<p>Farrar spoke in a low voice of troubled doubt. "But what are you going +to do, Steve? We can't leave you here."</p> + +<p>The bullets of the Mexicans were searching the grove for them. Any +moment one might find a mark.</p> + +<p>The range-rider made a gesture of angry impatience. "You obey orders +fine, don't you?" His face flashed sudden anger. "Get out. I know my +plans, don't I? Pull your freight. Vamos!"</p> + +<p>"And you'll be along later, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I will. I've got it all arranged. Hurry, or it will be too +late."</p> + +<p>Ruth half guessed his purpose. She began to sob, but let herself be +hurried away by Farrar.</p> + +<p>"He's going to stay there. He's not coming at all," she wailed as she +ran.</p> + +<p>"Sho! Of course he's coming. You know Steve, don't you? He's always got +something good up his sleeve."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span></p> + +<p>But though her friend reassured her, he could not still his own fears. +Something in him cried out against the desertion of a wounded ally, one +who had risked his life to save them all. Still, there was the girl to +be considered. If Yeager wanted to give his life for hers he had the +right. Many a good man of the Southwest would have done what Steve was +doing, given the same circumstances. It was up to him, Farrar, to back +his friend's play and see it through.</p> + +<p>Yeager crawled on his hands and knees into a mesquite thicket from which +he could command a view of the open space back of Pasquale's house. He +broke carefully half a dozen twigs that interfered with the free play of +his rifle. Then he placed his revolver beside him ready for action. +After which he waited, tense and watchful.</p> + +<p>Mexicans were swarming about the back of the house. One climbed the rope +ladder, looked in the window, and explained with much gesturing to those +below that the room was empty. Random shots were thrown toward the river +and into the grove. But nobody headed the pursuit. They were waiting for +a leader.</p> + +<p>Then Pasquale burst furiously into sight around the house. Culvera, +Ochampa, and Holcomb followed him. The general flung himself into an +excited group, tossing to right and left those who were in his way. He +snapped out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span> questions, gave orders, and stamped over the ground like a +madman.</p> + +<p>Called by Culvera, he strode forward to one of the drugged guards. In an +impotent fury he shook the man, trying to waken him from his sleep; +then, raging at his failure, he flung the helpless body against the wall +and turned on his heel.</p> + +<p>Order began to evolve out of the mob. Pasquale himself organized the +pursuit. He spread the line out so that as it advanced it would sweep +the whole space to the river. There was no longer any wild firing. Men +brought from the stables eight or ten horses for the officers.</p> + +<p>As the line moved forward, Yeager thought it time to let the enemy know +where he was. He drew a bead on the general, moved his rifle slightly to +the left, and fired. Pasquale drew his sword and waved it.</p> + +<p>"Take the girl alive. Shoot down the traitor dogs with her," he cried +savagely. "One hundred pesos to the man who kills either of them or +captures her."</p> + +<p>Steve answered this by firing twice, once with his revolver and almost +immediately afterward with his rifle. Ochampa sat down suddenly. He had +been hit in the leg.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2><h3>THE PRISONER</h3> +</div> + +<p>Pasquale changed his tactics. Having located his prey with fair +accuracy, he spread his men so as to converge upon the fugitives as the +spokes of a wheel do toward the hub. His instructions were that the men +were not to fire unless they were within close enough range to be sure +not to hit the girl.</p> + +<p>His courage had been tested often enough to be beyond doubt, so Gabriel +contented himself with waiting behind his horse for the captives to be +brought to him. He had no intention of being killed in a skirmish of +this kind as long as he had peons to send forward in his place.</p> + +<p>"Bet five dollars gold I have them inside of a quarter of an hour, +captain," the Mexican general said, peering across his saddle toward the +grove.</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented Major Ochampa in a depressed voice. He objected to +having camp vagrants take liberties with his leg. "Hope you make an +example of them, general."</p> + +<p>Pasquale turned, his eyes like cold lights on a frosty night. "They'll +pray for death a hundred<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span> times before it comes to them," he promised +brutally. Then, with quick surprise, "Where's Holcomb?"</p> + +<p>"He went forward with the men."</p> + +<p>"Just like him," replied Gabriel, shrugging his shoulders. "The madman +must always be in the thick of it. It's the Gringo way."</p> + +<p>From his mesquite thicket Yeager kept up as rapid a fire as possible, +using rifle and revolver alternately so as to deceive the enemy into +believing the whole party was there. His object was merely to gain time +for his escaping friends. Ochampa had been wounded as an object lesson, +but he did not intend to kill any of those who were surrounding him. If +there had been a dozen of them he would have fought it out to a finish, +but with one against a thousand he felt it would be useless murder to +kill.</p> + +<p>Steve fired into the air, knowing that would do just as well to delay +the attackers. Each time he fired his revolver he called aloud softly to +himself the number of the shot. It was essential to his plan that there +should be one bullet left the moment before they took him.</p> + +<p>He could hear them stumbling toward him through the brush and could make +out the dark figures as they crawled forward.</p> + +<p>"Four," he counted as he fired his revolver into the air and cut off a +twig.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span></p> + +<p>His rifle sang out twice. He waited, listening. Bushes crackled a few +yards behind him. Snatching up his revolver, he turned.</p> + +<p>"Don't fire, Steve," said a low voice in perfectly good English.</p> + +<p>Holcomb came out of the thicket toward him.</p> + +<p>"Hello, captain. Nice large warm evening. You out taking the air?" asked +the cowpuncher.</p> + +<p>"Did the rest get away?"</p> + +<p>"Hope so. I had rotten luck. One of the guards plugged me in the leg, so +I thought I'd kinder keep the Legion busy while our friends make their +getaway."</p> + +<p>"Can't you run?"</p> + +<p>"Can't even walk." Yeager raised the revolver and fired. "Five. One left +now."</p> + +<p>His eye met that of the captain. Each of them understood perfectly.</p> + +<p>"That first shot of yours just missed Pasquale. Pity you didn't shoot +straighter."</p> + +<p>"I had a dead beat on the old scamp, but I didn't want him. If Ruth gets +away, that's all I ask. He's all kinds of a wolf, but Mexico needs him, +I reckon."</p> + +<p>"You're right about that, Steve. It wouldn't have done you any good to +lay him out. Here they come."</p> + +<p>A man ploughed through the brush toward<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span> them. Another appeared to the +left. The face of a third peered around the trunk of an adjacent +cottonwood. Of a sudden the grove seemed alive with them.</p> + +<p>Raising his gun, Steve nodded farewell to his friend.</p> + +<p>A moment before Holcomb had had no intention of interfering, but an +impulse that was almost an inspiration gave springs to his muscles. He +leaped.</p> + +<p>The fling of his arm sent the shot flying wildly into the night. Yeager +turned on him furiously as he picked himself up to his knees.</p> + +<p>"What did you do that for?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—had no intention of it a moment before. Maybe I've done +you a bad turn, Steve. It came over me as a hunch that you were coming +out of this all right."</p> + +<p>"The devil it did. Gimme your gun. Quick!"</p> + +<p>It was too late. The Mexicans were closing with him. They flung him down +and pegged him to the ground with their weight. He made no attempt to +struggle.</p> + +<p>"Get off of him. He's my prisoner," roared Holcomb, flinging one of the +Mexicans back.</p> + +<p>They poured on him a flood of protesting Spanish. They had taken him +while he was still at large. The reward was theirs.</p> + +<p>"Confound the reward. You may have it, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span> the man belongs to me. Get +up. He's wounded. Two of you will have to carry him."</p> + +<p>"But if he tries to escape, señor—"</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool," snapped Holcomb curtly.</p> + +<p>The captain was troubled in his heart. Had he saved this fine young +fellow to be the plaything of old Pasquale's vengeance? He knew well +enough what would happen to the Arizonian if Ruth escaped. But as long +as there was life there was a chance. Something might turn up yet to +save him.</p> + +<p>When Pasquale found that only an insignificant peon Pedro Cabenza had +been taken in his dragnet, he exploded with fury. He ordered the man +shot against the nearest wall at once.</p> + +<p>Culvera turned the prisoner so that the moon fell full upon his face. He +looked searchingly at him. Yeager knew that he was discovered. He spoke +in English.</p> + +<p>"Good-evening, Colonel Culvera. You've guessed right, but you've guessed +it a little too late."</p> + +<p>"What is this? Who is this man?" demanded Pasquale harshly.</p> + +<p>"The man Yeager, who escaped from you two weeks since," explained Ramon. +"He has been in camp with us over a week arranging this girl's escape."</p> + +<p>The old general let out a bellow of rage. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span> strode forward to make +sure for himself. Roughly he seized his prisoner by the hair of the head +and twisted the face toward him.</p> + +<p>"Sorry I had to leave you so abruptly last time, general. Did you have a +pleasant night?" taunted Yeager.</p> + +<p>Gabriel choked. He was beyond words.</p> + +<p>"I see you haven't been able to get anybody else to assassinate your +friend Culvera yet," he said pleasantly.</p> + +<p>The American had given up hope of life. He was trying to spur Pasquale +into such an uncontrollable anger that his death would be a swift and +easy one.</p> + +<p>"Tie him hand and foot. Let a dozen men armed with rifles stay in the +room with him till I return. Ochampa, I hold you responsible. If he +escapes—"</p> + +<p>"He won't escape," answered the major. "I'll see to that myself."</p> + +<p>"See that you do." Pasquale swung to the saddle and looked around. +"Ramon, you're not a fool. Where shall we look for this girl and those +with her?" he demanded, scowling.</p> + +<p>"They must have horses to escape, general. Except in the stable here, +which is guarded heavily, the nearest are across the river in the +direction they must be moving."</p> + +<p>"Of course. Juan, have the remuda driven up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span> and let every man saddle +his horse. We'll comb these hills if we must. Maldito! She shan't escape +me."</p> + +<p>He galloped off at the head of his troop, taking the short cut to the +pasture.</p> + +<p>The prisoner was dragged into the house where Ochampa was staying. A +doctor presently arrived and took care of the wounded leg of the major. +After he had finished dressing it, he turned to Yeager.</p> + +<p>"No use bothering with mine. I'll have worse wounds soon," the man from +Arizona told him calmly.</p> + +<p>The little doctor smiled genially because his heart was good. "Quien +sabe, señor? Yet it is my duty," he reminded his patient gently.</p> + +<p>"Old Gabriel might not say so," demurred Steve.</p> + +<p>Yet he conceded the point and let the surgeon minister to him. There was +no anaesthetic. The patient had to set his teeth and bear the pain while +the bullet was removed and the wound washed and dressed. Little beads of +perspiration stood out on his forehead. The lean muscles of his cheeks +stood out like ropes. But no sound escaped his lips.</p> + +<p>"You are a brave man," said the doctor when he had finished. "I wish you +good fortune, sir."</p> + +<p>A faint smile rested in the eyes of the cowpuncher.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span> "I'm right likely +to have it, don't you think?" he asked ironically.</p> + +<p>Whether Ochampa suspected Holcomb of being in collusion with his +countryman or was merely taking no chances, the prisoner had no way of +telling. But the major refused flatly to let the artillery officer into +the room.</p> + +<p>"Tell him he can see the man after the general returns—if the general +wants him to see him," he told the messenger.</p> + +<p>They could hear the voice of Holcomb, angry and insistent, protesting +against such treatment. But a file of soldiers stood between him and the +room. He had to retire defeated.</p> + +<p>Slate-colored dawn rolled up without the return of Pasquale. With every +passing hour Steve gathered hope. It was certain that Ruth and her +friends had escaped through the lines or they must have been brought +back long ago. And if they once reached the hills and became lost among +them, they would surely be safe from pursuit.</p> + +<p>The prisoner was drinking a cup of coffee the doctor had brought him +when the sound of horses' hoofs came to him through the open window.</p> + +<p>The voice of Pasquale rang out, and at the sound of it Steve's heart +grew chill. For there was in the timbre of it a brutal, jovial triumph.</p> + +<p>"Take these horses, boys,—feed them, water<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span> them. Let the girl go to +her room, Ramon, but see that she is watched every minute. Garcia, +attend to the Gringos."</p> + +<p>He strode into the room where Yeager was detained. His greedy little +eyes sparkled; his face exuded malice and self-conceit.</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho, amigo! Who laughs now?" he jeered. "I found your +friends—stumbled on them in a pocket of the hills while we were +returning. They had lost their way, of course, since Señor Yeager was +unfortunately not able to go along. So I brought them home to breakfast. +Was I not kind?"</p> + +<p>He threw back his head and laughed. Steve said nothing. His heart was +sick. He had thrown the dice for his great chance and lost.</p> + +<p>"First, to breakfast," repeated the Mexican. "And afterward—the young +lady shall have love. Por Dios, you shall be at the wedding," decided +Pasquale on malicious impulse, hammering on the table with his great +fist.</p> + +<p>"If I had only had the sense to pull the trigger last night when I had +you at my mercy," Yeager commented aloud.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you and all her friends—you shall all be there to wish her +joy—even Holcomb, who wearies me with his protests. Maldito! Is Gabriel +Pasquale not good enough for a kitchen wench from Arizona?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's an outrage beyond belief."</p> + +<p>"And afterward—while the little chatita makes love to Gabriel—her +friend Steve whom she loves will suffer his punishment with what +fortitude he can."</p> + +<p>"And her other friends?"</p> + +<p>"Behold, it is a great day, señor. Not so? If the chatita, linda de mi +alma (pugnosed one, pretty creature of my love), asks for their freedom, +she shall have it. I, Gabriel, will send them home under safe escort. Am +I not generous? A kind lover? Not so?"</p> + +<p>Steve turned his head away and looked through the window at the sun +rising behind the distant hills. There was nothing to be said.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2><h3>THE TEXAN TAKES A LONG JOURNEY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Pasquale was as good as his word. He arranged that Yeager should see the +function from first to last. The wounded man, his hands tied behind his +back, heavily guarded, was in the front row of the crowd which lined the +short walk between the headquarters of the general and the little adobe +church. The petty officer in command told him that after the bridal +procession had passed he was to be taken into the balcony of the church +for the ceremony.</p> + +<p>"And afterward, while Gabriel makes love to the muchacha, the Gringo +Yeager will learn what it means to displease the Liberator," promised +the brown man with a twinkle of cruel little eyes.</p> + +<p>Steve gave no sign that he heard. He understood perfectly that the +ingenuity of Pasquale would make the day one long succession of tortures +for him. It was up to him to mask his face and manner with the stoicism +of an Apache.</p> + +<p>At a little distance he saw Farrar and Threewit, both of them very +anxious and pale. He would have called a greeting to them except that he +was afraid it might prejudice their chances.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span></p> + +<p>Captain Holcomb passed in front of him and stopped.</p> + +<p>"Mornin', Steve," he said.</p> + +<p>"Mornin', captain." The haggard eyes of the cowpuncher asked a question +before his lips framed it. "Can't you do anything for the little girl? +Has this hellish thing got to go through?"</p> + +<p>"The prisoner will keep silent," snapped the Mexican sergeant.</p> + +<p>Holcomb looked at the man with eyes of chill authority. "When I speak to +the prisoner he answers. Understand?"</p> + +<p>"Si, señor," muttered the sergeant, taken aback. "But the general +said—"</p> + +<p>"Forget it," cut in the Texan crisply. He turned to Yeager and spoke +deliberately, looking straight at him. "Pasquale is going through with +this thing. Just as sure as the old reprobate is alive the padre will +marry your little friend to him within half an hour."</p> + +<p>Was Captain Holcomb giving him a message? Steve did not know. It seemed +to him that there was some hidden meaning in the long look of the steady +eyes.</p> + +<p>The soldier nodded curtly and turned away. The Texan was dressed with +unusual care. He was wearing tanned boots newly polished and the trim +khaki uniform of an officer of the United States Army. Looking at him, +Yeager thought he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span> had never seen a finer figure of a man. He carried +himself with the light firmness of a trained soldier.</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher was puzzled. Had Holcomb an ace up his sleeve? If so, +what could it be? He had said that the marriage would be pushed through +<i>just as sure as Pasquale was alive</i>. Had there been the slightest +emphasis on that part of the sentence? Steve was not certain. It had +struck him that the captain's soft voice had lingered on the words, but +that might have been fancy. Yet he could not escape the feeling that +something tragic was impending.</p> + +<p>The chattering of the peons crowded in the road died away as if at a +signal. From the other end of the line rose a shout. "Viva Pasquale! +Viva Pasquale!"</p> + +<p>Troopers pushed through and opened up a lane.</p> + +<p>The general was for once in full uniform. Evidently he had just come +from the hands of a barber. His fierce mustache and eyebrows had been +trimmed and subdued. He smiled broadly as he bowed to the plaudits of +his men.</p> + +<p>Then he turned and Steve caught sight of the bride. Colorless to the +lips, she trembled as she moved forward, her eyes on the ground.</p> + +<p>It was as if some bell rang within her to tell of the presence of her +lover. Ruth raised her big<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span> sad eyes and they met those of Steve. Her +lips framed his name soundlessly. She seemed to lean toward him, +straining from Pasquale, whose arm supported her.</p> + +<p>Somehow she broke free and flung herself toward the man she loved. Her +arms fastened around his neck. With a shivering sob she clung tightly to +him.</p> + +<p>Pasquale, his eyes stabbing with brutal rage, dragged her back and held +her wrist in his sinewy brown hand. His teeth were clenched, the veins +in his temples swollen. He glared at the cowpuncher as if he would like +to murder him on the spot.</p> + +<p>The padre touched Gabriel on the arm. With a start the Liberator came to +himself. The procession moved forward again. Not a word had been spoken, +but Pasquale's golden smile had vanished. The fingernails of his +clenched fist bit savagely into the palm of his hand.</p> + +<p>From the procession Culvera saluted Yeager ironically. "Buenos and +adios, señor."</p> + +<p>The man to whom he spoke did not even know the Mexican was there. His +eyes and his mind were following the girl who was being driven to her +doom.</p> + +<p>From out of the crowd edging the walk a man stepped. It was Adam +Holcomb. He stood directly in front of Pasquale and his bride,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span> blocking +the way. There was a strange light in his eyes. It was as if he looked +from the present far into the future, as if somehow he were a god, an +Olympian who held in his hand the shears of destiny.</p> + +<p>The general, still furious, flung an angry look at him. "Well?" he +demanded harshly.</p> + +<p>"I want to ask the lady a question, general."</p> + +<p>Impatient rage boiled out of Pasquale in an imperious gesture of his +arm. "Afterward, captain. You shall ask her a hundred. Move aside."</p> + +<p>"I'll ask it now. This wedding doesn't go on until I hear from the young +lady that she is willing," he announced.</p> + +<p>Ruth tried to run forward to him, but the iron grip of the Mexican +stayed her. "Save me," she cried.</p> + +<p>"By God! I will."</p> + +<p>"Arrest that man," ordered Pasquale in a passion.</p> + +<p>At the same time he pushed Ruth from him into the crowd that lined the +path. The brown fingers of the Mexican chief closed upon the handle of +his revolver.</p> + +<p>"Here's where I go on a long journey," the Texan cried.</p> + +<p>He dragged out an army forty-five. Pasquale and he fired at the same +instant. The Mexican clutched at his heart and swayed back into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span> +crowd. Holcomb staggered, but recovered himself. He faced the other +Mexican officers, tossed away his revolver, and folded his arms.</p> + +<p>"Whenever you are ready, gentlemen," he said quietly.</p> + +<p>Ramon Culvera was the first to recover. From his automatic revolver he +flung a bullet into the straight, erect figure facing him. The others +crowded forward and fired into the body as it began to sink. The Texan +gave a sobbing sigh. Before his knees reached the ground he was dead.</p> + +<p>The suddenness of the tragedy, its unexpectedness, held the crowd with +suspended breath. What was to follow? Was this the beginning of a +massacre? Each man looked at his neighbor. Another moment might bring +forth anything.</p> + +<p>With a bound Ramon vaulted to the saddle of a horse standing near. His +sword made a half-circle of steel as it swept through the air. From +where he sat he could be seen by all.</p> + +<p>"Brothers of the Legion, patriots all, let none become excited. I have +killed with my own hand the traitor who shot our beloved leader. Gabriel +Pasquale is dead, but our country lives. Viva Mexico!"</p> + +<p>The answer came from thousands of brown, upturned faces. "Viva Mexico! +Viva Culvera!"</p> + +<p>The young officer swung the sword around his head. His eyes flashed. +"Gracias. Friends, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span> solemnly pledge my life to the great cause of the +people. Our hero is dead. We mourn him and devote ourselves anew to the +principles for which he fought. Never shall I lay down this sword until +I have won for you the rights of a free nation. I promise you land for +all, wealth for all, freedom from tyranny. Down with all the foes of the +poor."</p> + +<p>Again the shouts rang out, this time louder and clearer. Already these +simple, childlike peons were answering the call of their new master. Old +Pasquale, who for years had held their lives in the hollow of his hand, +lay crumpled on the ground almost forgotten. A new star was shining in +their firmament.</p> + +<p>"We shall march to Mexico, down the usurper, and distribute the stolen +wealth of him and his pampered minions among the people to whom it +belongs. Every Mexican shall have a house, land, cattle. He shall be the +slave of none. His children shall be fed. We shall have peace and +plenty. I, Ramon Culvera, swear it. Mexico for the Mexicans."</p> + +<p>Culvera was an orator. His resonant voice stirred the emotions of this +ragged mob that under the leadership of Pasquale had been hammered into +an army efficient enough to defeat well-armed regulars. The men pressed +closer to listen. Their primitive faces reflected the excitement<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span> the +speaker stirred in them. They interrupted with shouts and cheers.</p> + +<p>Others among the officers had ambitions for leadership, but they knew +now that Ramon had made the moment his and forestalled them. He had won +the army over to him.</p> + +<p>He spoke briefly, but he took pains to see that no other speaker +followed him. The plaudits for "General Culvera" rang like sweet music +in his ears. They told him that he had at a bound passed the officers +who ranked him and was already in effect chief of the Army of the North.</p> + +<p>Briefly he gave directions for the care of the body of the dead general +and for the safety of the American prisoners pending a disposition of +their cases. Before dismissing the army, he called an immediate +conference of the officers.</p> + +<p>Resolved to strike while the iron was hot, Culvera took charge of the +meeting of officers and proposed at once the election of a general to +succeed Pasquale. His associates were taken by surprise. They looked out +of the windows and saw pacing up and down the armed sentries Ramon had +set. They heard still an occasional distant cheer for the new leader. +Given time, they might have organized an opposition. But Culvera drove +them to instant decision. They faced the imperious will of a man who +would stick at nothing to satisfy his ambition.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span></p> + +<p>Moreover, Ramon was popular. He was of a good family, democratic in +manner, never arrogant on the surface to his equals. It had been his +object to make friends against the possibility of just such a +contingency. Most of the officers liked, even though they did not fully +trust him. They recognized that he had the necessary confidence in +himself for success and also the touch of dramatic genius that may make +of a soldier a public idol.</p> + +<p>For which reasons they submitted to his domination and elected him +successor of Pasquale as commander of the Legion of the North. Whereupon +Ramon unburdened himself of another fiery oration of patriotism full of +impossible pledges.</p> + +<p>The newly chosen general sent an orderly out to proclaim the day a +holiday and to see that mescal was served to all the men in honor of the +event. After which the conference discussed the fate of the American +prisoners.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2><h3>AT SUNSET</h3> +</div> + +<p>Steve, in solitary confinement, with only his throbbing leg for company, +was under no illusions as to what his punishment would be. Pasquale had +been killed by an American who had been seen talking with Yeager five +minutes before he had shot the general. The charge against him would +probably be conspiracy, but it did not much matter what the excuse was. +His life would be snuffed out certainly.</p> + +<p>There were several reasons why Culvera should sacrifice him and not one +why he should be spared. Ramon had a personal grudge against him, and +the new commander was not a man to forget to pay debts of this kind. +Moreover, the easiest way to still any whispered doubts of his own +loyalty to Pasquale was to show sharp severity in punishing those +charged with being implicated in his death.</p> + +<p>Yeager accepted it as settled that he was doomed.</p> + +<p>But what about his friends? What of Threewit and Farrar? And, above all, +what of Ruth? Would Culvera think it necessary to extend his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span> vengeance +to them? Or would prudence stay his hand after he had executed the chief +offender?</p> + +<p>Culvera was a good politician. The chances were that he would not risk +stirring up a hornet's nest by shooting a man as well known in the +United States as Threewit. Since Farrar was in the same case, he would +probably stand or fall by the Lunar director. As for Ruth—her <i>life</i> +would be safe enough. There was no doubt of that. But—what of her +future?</p> + +<p>Ramon was a known libertine. No scruples would restrain him if he +thought the game was a safe quarry. And Steve knew with a sinking heart +that he could offer to any official inquiry of the United States +Government a plausible story of an abandoned woman who had come to camp +to sell her charms to the highest bidder. It would be easy to show that +she had ridden down with a man suspected of being a rustler and known to +be a bad character, that she had jilted him for Pasquale who was already +married and a good deal more than twice her age, and that after the +death of Gabriel she had turned at once to his successor. To twist the +facts in support of such an interpretation of her conduct would require +only a little distortion here and there. The truth, twisted, makes the +most damnable lies.</p> + +<p>Without any heroics Holcomb had given his life to save her because she +was an American<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span> woman. Yeager counted himself a dead man in the same +cause. What wrung his heart now, and set him limping up and down his +cell regardless of the pain from his wounded leg, was the fear that the +price had been paid in vain. Little Ruth! Little Ruth! His heart went +out to her in an agony of despair.</p> + +<p>While he clung rigid to the window bars of his prison the rusty lock in +the door creaked. The sergeant with the cruel little eyes entered with +three men.</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho! The general wants the Gringo to cut out his heart and liver. +Come! Let us not keep him waiting. He is sharpening the knife and it may +lose the edge."</p> + +<p>A horse was waiting outside and the prisoner was assisted to the saddle. +One man led the horse by the bridle and on either side of Yeager rode a +second and a third. All of them were armed. The new general was taking +no chances of an escape.</p> + +<p>At sight of the American the young Mexican at the head of the long table +where Pasquale had held his councils showed a flash of fine teeth in a +glittering smile.</p> + +<p>"Welcome, Señor Yeager. How is the wounded leg?"</p> + +<p>Steve nodded casually. "It's talking to me, general, but I reckon it's +good enough to do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span> all the walking I'll ask of it," he answered quietly.</p> + +<p>Culvera turned with a laugh to Ochampa. "He is what the Gringoes call +game. Is it not so, major?"</p> + +<p>Ochampa, his wounded leg on a chair, grunted.</p> + +<p>"Turn about is fair play. How is <i>your</i> leg, major?" asked Steve.</p> + +<p>The major glared at him. "Is it that I must put up with the insolence of +this scoundrel, general?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Not for long," replied Culvera suavely. "Pedro Cabenza, or Yeager, or +whatever you call yourself, you have been tried for rebellion, +insubordination, and conspiracy to kill General Pasquale. You have been +sentenced to be shot at sunset. The order of the military court will be +carried out as decreed."</p> + +<p>The cowpuncher took it without the twitching of a muscle in the brown +face. He knew there was no use of an appeal for mercy and he made none.</p> + +<p>"So I've been tried and convicted without even being present. Fine +business. I reckon you've got an explanation handy when Uncle Sam comes +asking whyfor you murdered an American citizen."</p> + +<p>Culvera lifted in mock surprise his eyebrows. "An American citizen! +Surely not. I execute Pedro Cabenza, a peon, enlisted in the Army of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span> +the North, because he plotted with the foes of the Republic and helped +prisoners escape, and because he conspired to assassinate our glorious +chief, General Pasquale." Ramon put his forearm on the table and leaned +forward with an ironic smile. "But your point is well made, Pedro. Lies +spread on the wings of the wind. I shall forestall any slanderous +untruths by having a photograph taken of you before the execution, and +another of your body afterward. I thank you for the suggestion."</p> + +<p>Though it told against him the American knew this was a bull's-eye hit. +A photograph of him in his rags, with his serape and his ventilated +sombrero, face as brown as a berry, would be sufficient proof to +exonerate Culvera of the charge of having shot an American. Steve had +made up too well for the part. At worst Culvera could plead a +regrettable mistake.</p> + +<p>"You make out a good case against Pedro Cabenza, general," admitted the +condemned man evenly. "Good enough. We'll put him in the discard. I +suppose you won't deny that Threewit and Farrar and Miss Seymour are +Americans."</p> + +<p>With a confidential grin Ramon nodded. "You've put your finger on the +pulse of my difficulty. You see, I talk to you frankly because I have +the best of reasons for knowing you will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span> never betray me. No doubt you +recall your proverb about dead men telling tales. Just so. Well, I don't +know what the devil to do with your friends Farrar and Threewit. I have +nothing against them, but if I send them home they will talk. Would it +be best, do you think, to arrange an accident for them while on the way +back to Arizona?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I'll make a written confession, and they can sign it as +witnesses, that I plotted against Pasquale and was implicated in his +murder. That will let you out nicely, general. Then you can send them +home, and the young lady in their care. So you will even scores with me +quite safely to yourself."</p> + +<p>The Mexican commander looked steadily out of the window at a dog +scratching himself in the street. "I don't recall mentioning the young +lady. Her future is arranged."</p> + +<p>The temples of the cowpuncher throbbed. He pretended to misunderstand +the meaning of the other man. "Of course. I understand that you can do +nothing else but send her home. The one thing that would bring our army +across the line on the jump would be for you to hurt a hair of this +girl's head. You could kill a dozen men and get away with it quicker +than you could to insult one little girl. But, of course, you know +that."</p> + +<p>The fingers of Culvera drummed absently on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span> the table. "I think the +señorita and I will be able to adjust the matter without any help from +you. If you have any last messages for her I'll be glad to carry them, +since I expect to see her this evening."</p> + +<p>Steve had disdained to beg for himself, but now he begged for the girl +he loved.</p> + +<p>"You're a man, Ramon Culvera. Nobody ever claimed there is any yellow in +you. Your father was a gentleman and so is his son. You fight with men +and not with timid girls. You wouldn't do this girl dirt because she is +alone and has no friends near. Think of your own sisters, man."</p> + +<p>Ochampa moved restlessly in his chair. "We had better send the girl +home. She will bring us trouble else."</p> + +<p>His superior officer flashed a quick look at him. "That is a bridge we +shall cross when we come to it. Meanwhile I say adios, Señor Yeager. +Shall I send you the padre?"</p> + +<p>"Thanks, no! But remember this. You stake your whole future on the +treatment you give Miss Seymour. If you don't play fair with her, you +lose."</p> + +<p>Ramon clapped his hands three times. A soldier entered the room.</p> + +<p>"Take the Gringo back to his prison," ordered Culvera.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span></p> + +<p>"The order stands, general? At sunset?" asked the man.</p> + +<p>"It stands," assented Ramon; and turned to Ochampa: "Have you agreed on +a price for that bunch of cattle with the Flying D rustlers, major?"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2><h3>CULVERA RECONSIDERS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Spurred by Daisy Ellington, the star of the border Lunar Company had +kept the wires hot with messages to "the old man" in New York. To do him +justice the president of the company rose to the occasion as soon as it +was impressed upon his mind that Threewit and the others were in serious +danger. He telegraphed for Lennox to meet him in Washington and hurried +to the Capitol himself to lay the case before the senior Senator from +New York, a statesman who happened to be under political obligations to +him.</p> + +<p>The Arizona congressional delegation was called into conference and an +appointment made to meet the President of the United States. As soon as +Lennox reached the city, he was hurried to the White House, where he +told the story before the President and the Secretary of State.</p> + +<p>The case called for prompt action. Instructions were wired to Captain +Girard, stationed with his company at Bisbee, Arizona, to act as a +special envoy from the President to General Pasquale.</p> + +<p>Girard, with a corporal, two saddle-horses, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span> a pack-horse, entrained +at once. Four hours later he was dropped at a tank station, from which +point he and the corporal struck straight into the barren desert. The +glare of the afternoon sun was slanting down upon them when they +started. Their shadows grew longer as they rode. The sun, a ball of +fire, dropped below the distant horizon edge and left a sky of wonder to +drive a painter to despair.</p> + +<p>The gold and crimson and purple softened as the minutes passed. The +distant ridges were no longer flamed with edgings of fire. A deep purple +predominated and was lightened presently to a velvet violet haze. Then +the stars came out, close and cold and innumerable.</p> + +<p>Still Girard rode, taking advantage of the cool breath of night. Toward +morning he stopped at a sand-wash where three or four dusty cottonwoods +relieved the vegetation of mesquite, palo verde, and cacti. Among the +rocks a spring rose hesitant to the surface and struggled faintly for +life against the palpitating heat and thirsty drought of the desert.</p> + +<p>The corporal hobbled the horses. The men stretched themselves in the +sand and fell into deep sleep. It was noon when they awoke. They ate, +lounged in such shade as the cottonwoods offered from the quivering +heat, and waited till mid-afternoon. Having saddled and repacked,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span> they +struck again across the dreary roll of sandhills and washes. When Noche +Buena lay at their feet the sun was low in the sky.</p> + +<p>Into the dusty main street of the village the two men rode at a walk. A +sentinel with a rifle stopped them. Girard explained that he wanted to +see Pasquale.</p> + +<p>"He is dead—shot by a Gringo who has gone to hell already. And another +Gringo will be shot when the sun falls below the hills, and perhaps +another to-morrow. Who knows? You, too, may pay for the death of the +Liberator," jeered the sentry.</p> + +<p>"Pasquale dead—and shot by an American?" asked the captain in surprise.</p> + +<p>"As I have said. But General Culvera killed the dog in his tracks. Ho, +Manuel! Call an officer. A Gringo wants to see the general," he shouted +to a barefoot trooper crouched in the shade of an adobe house.</p> + +<p>Girard explained to the officer that he was a messenger from the +President of the United States. He and the corporal were searched and +their arms removed.</p> + +<p>The Mexican officer apologized. "Since Pasquale was murdered, we take no +chances," he explained. "You understand I do not at all doubt you are +what you say. But we search all strangers to make sure."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span></p> + +<p>After Culvera had glanced over the credentials of Girard, he was all +suavity. "I offer you a hundred welcomes; first for yourself, as an +officer of the army of our sister Republic, and second as an envoy from +your President, for whom I have a most profound respect. But not a word +of your mission until we have dined. You will want first of all a bath +after your long dusty trip. May I offer you my own quarters for the +present till arrangements can be made?"</p> + +<p>Captain Girard bowed. "You are very kind, general. Believe me, I +appreciate your courtesy. But first I must raise one point. I have been +told that an American is to be executed at sunset, which is almost +immediately. You will understand that as a representative of the United +States it is necessary that I should investigate the facts."</p> + +<p>Swiftly Culvera considered. If the American officer had arrived an hour +later, Yeager would have been safely out of the way. How had he +discovered already that an American was to be shot? Was it worth while +denying it? But what if Girard insisted on seeing the execution? What if +he asked to see Yeager? Ramon's glance swept the obstinate face of the +captain. He decided it better to acknowledge the truth.</p> + +<p>"It is to me a matter of profound regret," he sighed. "The man enlisted +in our army as a spy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span> disguised as a peon. He is guilty of the murder +of one of our men in a gambling-house. He attempted to kill General +Pasquale a short time ago. He was undoubtedly in league with the man +Holcomb, the assassin of our great general. He shot Major Ochampa, but +fortunately the major is recovering. The man is a border ruffian of the +worst stamp."</p> + +<p>"May I talk with him, general?"</p> + +<p>"But certainly—if the man is still living," assented the Mexican.</p> + +<p>The American officer looked straight at Ramon. His steady eyes made no +accusation, mirrored no suspicion. Culvera could not tell what he was +thinking. But he recognized resentfully a compulsion in them that he +could not safely ignore.</p> + +<p>"With your permission I should like to talk also with Miss Seymour and +the two moving-picture men," said Captain Girard.</p> + +<p>The Mexican adventurer announced a decision he had come to that very +instant, one to which the inconvenient arrival of the envoy from the +President of the United States had driven him.</p> + +<p>"I am making arrangements to have them all three taken safely back to +Arixico. Between you and me, captain, old Pasquale was something of a +savage. It is my purpose to win and hold the friendship of the United +States. I don't underestimate Pasquale. He was my friend and chief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span> He +made a free Mexico possible. But he was primitive. He did not understand +international relations. He treated the citizens of your great country +according to his whims. That was a mistake. I shall so act as to win the +approval of your great President."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to hear that. The surest foundation upon which you can +build for a free Mexico is justice for all, general. And now, if I may +see Yeager."</p> + +<p>A messenger was sent to bring the prisoner. He found an officer with a +firing party already crossing the plaza to the place of execution. The +prisoner was bareheaded, ragged, unkempt. His arms were tied by the +elbows behind his back. But the spirit of the unbeaten spoke in his eyes +and trod in his limping step.</p> + +<p>"The general wishes to see the prisoner," explained the messenger to the +officer.</p> + +<p>The party wheeled at a right angle, toward the headquarters of Culvera.</p> + +<p>Steve thought he understood what this meant. Culvera had sent for him to +gloat over him, to taunt him. The man wanted to hear him beg for his +life. The teeth of the cowpuncher clenched tightly till the muscles of +the jaw stood out like ropes. He would show this man that an American +did not face a firing squad with a whine.</p> + +<p>At sight of the captain of cavalry sitting beside<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span> Culvera the heart of +Yeager leaped. The long arm of Uncle Sam had reached across the border +in the person of this competent West Pointer. It meant salvation for +Ruth, for his friends, possibly even for himself.</p> + +<p>"Captain Girard wants to ask you a few questions," Culvera explained.</p> + +<p>Without waiting for questions Yeager spoke. "Do you know that an +American girl is held prisoner here, captain,—that Pasquale was driving +her to a forced marriage when Holcomb shot him to save her?"</p> + +<p>Girard turned toward the general, a question in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Ramon shrugged his shoulders. "I told you Pasquale was a barbarian. The +trouble is he was a peon. He took what he wanted."</p> + +<p>"Her name is Ruth Seymour. She's a fine girl, captain. You'll save her, +of course, and see that she gets home," continued Steve.</p> + +<p>"I have the promise of General Culvera to see her and your friends safe +to Arixico," replied Girard.</p> + +<p>"You'll ride with them yourself all the way," urged the prisoner.</p> + +<p>"No doubt. But, of course, the word of General Culvera—"</p> + +<p>"—Is worth what it is worth," Yeager finished for him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span></p> + +<p>"The man stands in the shadow of death. Let him say what he likes," said +the Mexican contemptuously to the officer beside him.</p> + +<p>"You are charged with being a spy, Mr. Yeager. I am told you were +captured in disguise after having plotted to help prisoners escape," +said Girard.</p> + +<p>Yeager nodded quietly. "Technically I am a spy. I came here to try to +save Miss Seymour and my friends. The attempt failed and I was +captured."</p> + +<p>"Are you a spy in the sense that you were in the employ of the enemies +of General Pasquale and his armies?"</p> + +<p>"No. Culvera understands that perfectly well. I came only to look out +for my friends."</p> + +<p>Girard knew what manner of man Yeager was. He intended to save his life +if it could be done. This would be possible only if Culvera could be +made to feel that it would cost too much to punish him.</p> + +<p>"It is claimed that you attempted the life of General Pasquale once."</p> + +<p>"Nothing to that. I was a prisoner, condemned to be shot in the morning. +He came to my cell and offered me my life if I would knife Culvera in +the back. I couldn't see the proposition. But I got a chance, knocked +him down, tied him up, and slipped out in his serape. Then I made my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span> +getaway on the horse he had left for me in case I came through with the +knifing."</p> + +<p>Instantly Culvera knew the story to be true. It cannot be said that he +was grateful to Yeager, but the edge of his resentment against him was +dulled.</p> + +<p>"Sounds like a plausible story, doesn't it?" he suggested ironically. +"Why should Pasquale want the death of his friend, his lieutenant, the +man who was closest to him among all his followers?"</p> + +<p>"Send for Juan Garcia. He was on sentry duty that night. Ask him as to +the facts," the cowpuncher proposed.</p> + +<p>Girard turned to his host and spoke to him in a low voice. "General, +this man has a good reputation at home. He has a host of friends in +Arizona. I believe he is speaking the truth. Perhaps General Pasquale +may have been too hasty. Let us send for all the witnesses and make a +thorough investigation of the charges against him. I shall be called to +Washington after I have wired my report. The President, no doubt, will +question me. Make it possible for me to tell him that under the rule of +General Culvera a régime begins that is founded on justice for all."</p> + +<p>Culvera was far from a fool. He had lived in the United States and +understood something of the temper of its people. The fall of Huerta +was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span> potent proof that no ruler could survive in Mexico if the +Government at Washington was set in opposition to him. After all, the +life of Yeager was only a small matter. Why not use him as a pawn in the +game to win the approval of the big Republic to the north?</p> + +<p>With his most engaging smile Ramon offered his hand to Captain Girard. +"You are right. Pasquale was a child, a creature of moods, of foolish +suspicions and tempestuous passions. Perhaps this man tells the truth. +It may be he has been condemned unjustly. You and I, my friend, shall +sit in judgment on him. If he be guilty, we shall condemn; if innocent, +acquit. Meanwhile I will remand him to prison and order the execution +postponed. Does that satisfy you, captain?"</p> + +<p>The American officer shook hands warmly. "General, it is a pleasure to +meet a man like you. Mexico is fortunate in having such a son."</p> + +<p>Culvera beamed. "Gracias. And now, captain, first a bath, then dinner. +Afterwards you shall talk with the moving-picture men." He turned +affably to Yeager. "I shall give orders that you be given a good dinner +to-night. To-morrow we shall pass judgment on you."</p> + +<p>Steve nodded to the West Pointer. "Much obliged, captain."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2><h3>AS LONG AS LIFE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Breakfast was served to Yeager next morning by a guard who either knew +nothing or would tell nothing of what was going on in the camp. After he +had eaten, nobody came near the prisoner for hours. Through the barred +window he could see a sentry pacing up and down or squatting in the +shade of the deserted building opposite. No other sign of human life +reached him.</p> + +<p>His nerves were keyed to a high tension. Culvera was an opportunist. +Perhaps something had occurred to make him change his mind. Perhaps he +had decided, after all, not to play for the approval of the United +States. In revolutionary Mexico much can happen in a few hours.</p> + +<p>Steve was a man of action. It did not suit his temperament to sit cooped +up in a prison while things were being done that affected the happiness +of Ruth and his own life. He tried to persuade himself that all was +going well, but as the fever of his anxiety mounted, he found himself +limping up and down the short beat allowed him from wall to wall.</p> + +<p>It was noon before he was taken from his cell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span> Steve counted it a good +augury that a saddle horse was waiting for him to ride. Last night he +had limped across the plaza on his wounded leg.</p> + +<p>He and his little procession of guards cut straight across to +headquarters. Culvera sat on the porch smoking a cigarette. He was +dressed immaculately in a suit of white linen with a blue sash. His +gold-trimmed sombrero was a work of art.</p> + +<p>At sight of Yeager the Mexican general smiled blandly.</p> + +<p>"Are you ready to take a long journey, Señor Yeager?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The heart of the cowpuncher lost a beat, but he did not bat an eye. +"What journey? The same one that Holcomb took?" he demanded bluntly.</p> + +<p>Culvera showed a face of pained surprise. "Am I a barbarian? Do you +think me another Pasquale? No, no, señor. You and I have had our +disagreements. But they are past. To tell the truth, I always did like +the way you see a thing through to a fighting finish. Now that I know +you are not the ruffian I had been led to think you, it is a pleasure to +me to tell you that you have been tried and acquitted. I offer regrets +for the inconvenience to which you have been put. You will pardon, is it +not so, and do me the honor to dine with me before you leave?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span></p> + +<p>The heels of the Mexican came together, he bowed, and offered a hand to +the range-rider.</p> + +<p>"Just one moment, general. All that listens fine to me, but—what are +the conditions?"</p> + +<p>Ramon made a gesture of regret at being so sadly misunderstood. +"Conditions! There are none."</p> + +<p>"None at all?"</p> + +<p>"None. Is it that you think me a peddler instead of a gentleman?" The +face of the young Mexican expressed sorrow rather than anger.</p> + +<p>Still Steve doubted. "Let's understand each other, general. Are you +telling me that I can walk out of that door, climb into a saddle, and +keep going till I get back into old Arizona?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you that—and more. You will be furnished an escort to see you +safely across the line. You may choose your own guard if you doubt."</p> + +<p>"And my friends?"</p> + +<p>"They go, too, of course."</p> + +<p>"All of them?"</p> + +<p>The Mexican smiled. "You're the most suspicious man I ever knew. All of +them, Señor Yeager."</p> + +<p>"Including Miss Seymour?" The range-rider spoke quietly, but his eyes +were like swords.</p> + +<p>"Naturally she will not wish to stay here when her friends leave."</p> + +<p>Steve leaned against the porch post with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span> deep breath of relaxation. +"If I'm sleeping, don't let any one wake me, general," he implored, +smiling for the first time.</p> + +<p>"I confess your amazement surprises me," said Culvera suavely. "Did you +think all Mexicans were like Pasquale? He was a great man, but he was a +savage. Also, he was a child at statecraft. I used to warn him to +coöperate with the United States if he wished to succeed. But he was +ignorant and eaten up with egotism."</p> + +<p>"You're right he was, general."</p> + +<p>"A new policy is now in operation. In freeing you I ask only that you +set me and my army right with your people. Let them understand that we +stand for a free Mexico and for justice."</p> + +<p>The hands of the two men gripped.</p> + +<p>"I'll sure do my share, general."</p> + +<p>"We're to have a little luncheon before you go. Captain Girard and your +friends are to be my guests. You will join us; not so?"</p> + +<p>"Gracias, general. Count me in."</p> + +<p>The black eyes of the Mexican twinkled. "Your wound—does it greatly +trouble you, señor?"</p> + +<p>"Some. When I walk."</p> + +<p>"Too bad. I was going to ask you to step upstairs and tell Señorita +Seymour that General Culvera will be delighted to have her join us at +luncheon. But, of course, since your leg troubles you—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's a heap better already, general. You're giving me good medicine."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I think you know the lady's room. But perhaps I had better call a +peon."</p> + +<p>The eyes of the cowpuncher were bright. "Now, don't you, general. Keep +on talking and you're liable to spoil what you've said," answered Steve +with his old gay laugh.</p> + +<p>He hobbled out of the room and up the stairs.</p> + +<p>The door of Ruth's room was open. She sat huddled in a chair looking +straight before her. There were shadows under her young eyes that never +should have been there. Her lissome figure had lost its gallantry, the +fine poise that had given her a note of wild freedom. Steve had come up +so quietly that she evidently had not heard, for she did not turn her +weary head to see who it was.</p> + +<p>He stood a moment, hesitating on the threshold. She sat without moving, +a pathetic picture of despair and grief. A man had died for her +yesterday. Another man was to die to-day because he had tried to save +her. She herself was in danger still. The tragedy of life had carried +her beyond tears.</p> + +<p>When he moved forward a step she turned. Her lips parted in surprise. +The dark eyes under her tumbled, blue-black hair stared in astonishment. +Slowly she rose, never lifting her gaze from him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span> With a little cry of +wonder she stretched her arms toward this man who had come to her as if +from the dead.</p> + +<p>In two strides he reached her and swept the girl into his arms. He +kissed the tired eyes, the tousled hair, the soft cheeks into which the +color began to flow. She clung to him, afraid to let him go, uncertain +whether it was a reality.</p> + +<p>At last she spoke. "It <i>is</i> you, isn't it? I thought ... they told me +... that you...."</p> + +<p>He laughed softly with the joy of it all. "I'm free—free to go home +with you, Ruth,—back to God's country, to friends and life and love."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to take me, too?" she asked with naïve simplicity.</p> + +<p>"Is it likely I'd go without you? Yes, we're all going. Culvera has seen +the light. Soon all this will be like a nightmare from which we have +escaped. That's right, honey. Cry if you want to. Little girl, little +girl, how am I ever going to tell you how much I love you?"</p> + +<p>She wept with gladness and relief while he held her tightly in his arms +and promised to keep her against all harm as long as life lasted.</p> + +<p>And afterward, when smiles came again, they fell into the inarticulate +babblings that from the beginning of time have been the expression of +lovers.</p> + +<p>They forgot time, so that neither knew how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span> long it had been before a +denim-clad soldier stood saluting in the doorway.</p> + +<p>Steve, over his shoulder, fired a question at the man. "What do you +want?"</p> + +<p>"The compliments of General Culvera, señor and señorita, and I was to +remind you that luncheon has been waiting twenty minutes."</p> + +<p>Steve and Ruth looked at each other and laughed. They went downstairs +hand in hand.</p> + +<p style='text-align:center; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 3em;'>THE END</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Steve Yeager, by William MacLeod Raine + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STEVE YEAGER *** + +***** This file should be named 19055-h.htm or 19055-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/0/5/19055/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Distributed Proofreading +Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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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: Steve Yeager + +Author: William MacLeod Raine + +Release Date: August 16, 2006 [EBook #19055] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STEVE YEAGER *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Distributed Proofreading +Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +STEVE YEAGER +BY +WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE + +NEW YORK +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS + +Made in the United States of America + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +[Illustration: RUTH] + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +Contents + + I STEVE MAKES A MISTAKE 1 + II "ENOUGH'S A-PLENTY" 10 + III CHAD HARRISON 25 + IV THE EXTRA 33 + V YEAGER ASKS ADVICE 42 + VI PLUCKING A PIGEON 56 + VII STEVE TELLS TOO MUCH TRUTH 71 + VIII THE HEAVY GETS HIS TIME 79 + IX GABRIEL PASQUALE 86 + X A NIGHT VISIT 96 + XI CHAD DECIDES TO GET BUSY 112 + XII INTO THE DESERT 121 + XIII THE NIGHT TRAIL 131 + XIV THE CAVE MEN 140 + XV STEVE WINS A HAM SANDWICH 153 + XVI THE HEAVY PAYS A DEBT 166 + XVII PEDRO CABENZA 175 + XVIII HARRISON OVERPLAYS HIS HAND 181 + XIX THE TEXAN 194 + XX NEAR THE END OF HIS TRAIL 207 + XXI A STAGE PREPARED FOR TRAGEDY 216 + XXII A CONSPIRACY 223 + XXIII TRAPPED 229 + XXIV THE PRISONER 247 + XXV THE TEXAN TAKES A LONG JOURNEY 257 + XXVI AT SUNSET 266 + XXVII CULVERA RECONSIDERS 274 +XXVIII AS LONG AS LIFE 284 + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +STEVE YEAGER + +CHAPTER I + +STEVE MAKES A MISTAKE + + +Steve Yeager held his bronco to a Spanish trot. Somewhere in front of +him, among the brown hill swells that rose and fell like waves of the +sea, lay Los Robles and breakfast. One solitary silver dollar, too +lonesome even to jingle, lay in his flatulent trouser pocket. After he +and Four Bits had eaten, two quarters would take the place of the big +cartwheel. Then would come dinner, a second transfer of capital, and his +pocket would be empty as a cow's stomach after a long drive. + +Being dead broke, according to the viewpoint of S. Yeager, is right and +fitting after a jaunt to town when one has a good job back in the hills. +But it happened he had no more job than a rabbit. Wherefore, to keep up +his spirits he chanted the endless metrical version of the adventures of +Sam Bass, who + + "... started out to Texas a cowboy for to be, + And a kinder-hearted fellow you scarcely ever'd see." + +Steve had not quit his job. It had quit him. A few years earlier the +Lone Star Cattle Company had reigned supreme in Dry Sandy Valley and +the territory tributary thereto. Its riders had been kings of the range. +That was before the tide of settlement had spilled into the valley, +before nesters had driven in their prairie schooners, homesteaded the +water-holes, and strung barb-wire fences across the range. Line-riders +and dry farmers and irrigators had pushed the cowpuncher to one side. +Sheep had come bleating across the desert to wage war upon the cattle. +Finally Uncle Sam had sliced off most of the acreage still left and +called it a forest reserve. + +Wherefore the Lone Star outfit had thrown up its hands, sold its +holdings, and moved to Los Angeles to live. Wherefore also Steve Yeager, +who did not know Darwin from a carburetor, had by process of evolution +been squeezed out of the occupation he had followed all of his +twenty-three years since he could hang on to a saddle-horn. He had +mournfully foreseen the end when the schoolhouse was built on Pine Knob +and little folks went down the road with their arms twined around the +waist of teacher. After grizzled Tim Sawyer made bowlegged tracks +straight for that schoolmarm and matrimony, his friends realized that +the joyous whoop of the puncher would not much longer be heard in the +land. The range-rider must dwindle to a farmer or get off the earth. +Steve was getting off the earth. + +Since Steve was of the sunburnt State, still a boy, and by temperament +incurably optimistic, he sang cheerfully. He wanted to forget that he +had eaten neither supper nor breakfast. So he carried Mr. Bass through +many adventures till that genial bandit + + "... sold out at Custer City and there got on a spree, + And a tougher lot of cowboys you never'd hope to see." + +Four Bits had topped a rise and followed the road down in its winding +descent. After the nomadic fashion of Arizona the trail circled around a +tongue of a foothill which here jutted out. Voices from just beyond the +bend startled Yeager. One of them was raised impatiently. + +"Won't do, Harrison. Be rougher. Throw her on her knees and tie her +hands." + +The itinerant road brought Steve in another moment within view. He saw a +girl picking poppies. Two men rode up and swung from their saddles. They +talked with her threateningly. She shrank back in fear. One of them +seized her wrists and threw her down. + +"Lively, now. Into the pit with her. Get the stuff across," urged a +short fat man with a cigar in his mouth who was standing ten or fifteen +yards back from the scene of action. + +Steve had put his horse at a gallop the moment the girl had been seized. +It struck him there was something queer about the affair,--something +not quite natural to which he could not put a name. But he did not stop +to reason out the situation. Dragging his pony to a slithering halt, he +leaped to the ground. + +"Get busy, Jackson. You ain't in a restaurant waiting for a meal," the +little fat man reminded one of his tools irritably. Then, as he caught +sight of Steve, "What the hell!" + +Yeager's left shot forward, all the weight and muscle of one hundred and +seventy pounds of live cowpuncher behind it. Villain Number One went to +the ground as if a battering-ram had hit him between the eyes. + +"Lay hands on a lady, will you?" + +Steve turned to Villain Number Two, who backed away rapidly in alarm. + +"What's eatin' you? We ain't hurtin' her any, you mutt." + +The girl, still crouched on the ground, turned with a nervous little +laugh to the man who had been directing operations:-- + +"What d'you know about that, Billie? The rube swallowed it all. You +gotta raise my salary." + +The cowpuncher felt in the pit of his stomach the same sensation he had +known when an elevator in Denver had dropped beneath his feet too +suddenly. The young woman was rouged and painted to the ears. Never in +its palmiest days had the 'Dobe Dollar's mirrors reflected a costume +more gaudy than the one she was wearing. The men too were painted and +dolled up extravagantly in vaqueros' costumes that were the limit of +absurdity. Had they all escaped from a madhouse? Or was he, Steve +Yeager, in a pipe-dream? + +From a near grove of cottonwoods half a dozen men in chaps came running. +Assured of their proximity, the fat little fellow pawed the air with +rage. + +"Ever see such rotten luck? Spoiled the whole scene. Say, you Rip Van +Winkle, think we came out here for the ozone?" + +One of the men joined the young woman, who was assisting the villain +Yeager had knocked out. The others crowded around him in excitement, all +expostulating at once. They were dressed wonderfully and amazingly as +cowpunchers, but they were painted frauds in spite of the careful +ostentation of their costumes. Steve's shiny leathers and dusty hat +missed the picturesque, but he looked indigenous and they did not. He +was at his restful ease, this slender, brown man, negligent, careless, +eyes twinkling but alert. The brand of the West was stamped indelibly on +him. + +"I ce'tainly must 'a' spilled the beans. Looks like I done barked up +the wrong tree," he drawled amiably. + +A man who had been standing on a box behind some kind of a masked +battery jumped down and joined the group. + +"Gee! I've got a bully picture of our anxious friend laying out +Harrison. Nothing phony about that, Threewit. Won't go in this reel, but +she'll make a humdinger in some other. Say, didn't Harrison hit the dust +fine! Funny you lads can't ever pull off a fall like that." + +An annoyed voice, both raucous and sneering, interrupted his enthusiasm. +"Just stick around, Mr. Camera Man, and you'll get a chance to do +another bit of real life that ain't faked. I'm goin' to hammer the head +off Buttinski presently." + +The camera man, an alert, boyish fellow as thin as a lath, turned and +grinned. Harrison was sitting up a little unsteadily. Burning black +eyes, set in sockets of extraordinary depths, blazed from a face +sinister enough to justify Steve's impression of him as a villain. The +shoulders of the man were very broad and set with the gorilla hunch; he +was deep-chested and lean-loined. His eyes shifted with a quick, furtive +menace. His companions might be imitation cowpunchers, but if Yeager was +any judge this was no imitation bad man. + +"Going to eat him alive, are you?" the camera man wanted to know +pleasantly. + +Steve pushed through to Harrison. A whimsical little smile of apology +crinkled the boyish face. + +"It's on me, compadre. I'm a rube, and anything else you like. And I +sure am sorry for going off half-cocked." + +A wintry frost was in the jet bead eyes that looked up at the puncher. +The sitting man did not recognize the extended hand. + +"You'll be a heap sorrier before I'm through with you," he growled. "I'm +goin' to beat your head off and learn you to mind your own business." + +"Interesting if true," retorted Steve lightly. "And maybeso you're +right. A man can't always most likely tell. Take a watermelon now. You +can't tell how good it is till you thump it. Same way with a man, I've +heard say." + +He turned to the young woman, whose bright brown eyes were lingering +upon him curiously. This was no novel experience to him. He wore his +splendid youth so jauntily and yet so casually that the gaze of a girl +was likely to be drawn in his direction a second and a third time. In +spite of his youthfulness there was in his face a certain +sun-and-wind-bitten maturity, a steadiness of the quiet eye that +promised efficiency. The film actress sensed the same competent +strength in the brown, untorn hand that assisted her to rise to her +feet. His friendly smile showed the flash of white, regular teeth. + +"The rube apologizes, ma'am. He's just in from Cactus Center and never +did see one of those moving-picture outfits before. Thirty-eleven things +were in sight as I happened round that bend, but the only one I glimmed +was you being mistreated. Corking chance for a grandstand play. So I +sailed in pronto. 'Course I should've known better, but I didn't." + +Maisie Winters was the name of the young woman. She played the leads in +one of the Southwest companies of the Lunar Film Manufacturers. Her +charming face was known and liked on the screens of several continents. +Now it broke into lines of mischievous amusement. + +"I don't mind if Mr. Harrison doesn't." She flashed a gay, inquiring +look toward that discomfited villain, who was leaning for support on his +accomplice Jackson and glaring at Yeager. Impudently she tilted her chin +back toward the puncher. "Are you always so--so impetuous? If so, +there's a fortune waiting for you in the moving-picture field." + +Yeager did not object to having so attractive a young woman as this one +poke fun at him. He grinned joyfully. + +"Me! I'm open to an engagement, ma'am." + +The short fat man whom Maisie Winters had called Billie looked sharply +at the cowpuncher out of shrewd gray eyes. + +"Where you been working?" he demanded abruptly. + +"With the Lone Star outfit." + +"Get fired?" + +"Company gone out of business--country getting too popular, what with +homesteaders, forest rangers, and Mary's little lamb," explained Steve. + +"Hm! Can you ride a bucker?" + +"I can pull leather and kinder stick on." + +"I'll try you out for a week at two-fifty a day if you like." + +"You've hired Steve Yeager," promptly announced the owner of that name. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +"ENOUGH'S A-PLENTY" + + +While driving his car back to Los Robles, Billie Threewit, producing +director at the border studio of the Lunar Film Manufacturers, indulged +in caustic comment on his own idiocy. + +"Now, what in hell did I take on this Yeager rube for? He had just +finished crabbing one scene. Wasn't that enough without me paying him +good money to spoil more? Harrison's sore on him too. There's going to +be trouble there. He ain't going to stand for that roughhouse stuff a +little bit." + +Frank Farrar, the camera man, took a more cheerful view of the +situation. + +"He's a find, if you ask me--the real thing in cowpunchers. And I don't +know as this outfit has to be run to please Harrison. The big bully has +got us all stepping sideways and tiptoeing so as not to offend him. I'm +about fed up with the brute. Wish this rube would mop the earth up with +him when Harrison gets gay." + +"No chance. Harrison's a bully all right, but he's one grand little +fighter too. You saw him clean up that bunch of greasers. He's there +with both feet on the Marquis of Q. business, and don't you forget it. +I put up with more from him than I ever did from a dozen other actors +because he's so mean when he's sulky." + +"Here too," agreed Farrar. "It's take your hat off when you speak to Mr. +Chad Harrison. I can't yell at him that he's getting out of the picture; +I've got to pull the Alphonse line of talk.--'Mr. Harrison, if you'd be +so kind as to get that left hind hoof of yours six inches more to the +right.' He makes me good and weary." + +"He gets his stuff across good. Wasn't for that I wouldn't stand for him +a minute. But we're down here, son, to get this three-reel Mexican war +dope. As long as Harrison delivers the goods we'll have to put up with +him." + +"Well, I'm going to give this Yeager lad a tip what he's up against. +Then if he wants to he can light out before Harrison gets to him." + +Farrar was as good as his word. As soon as he reached the hotel he +dropped around to the room where the new extra was staying. His knock +brought no answer, but as the door was ajar the camera man stepped +across the threshold. + +Steve lay on the bed asleep, his lithe, compact figure stretched at +negligent ease. The flannel shirt was open at the throat, the strong +muscles of which sloped beautifully into the splendid shoulders. There +was strength in the clean-cut jaw of the brown face. It was an easy +guess that he had wandered by paths crooked as well as straight, that he +had taken the loose pleasures of his kind joyously. But when he had +followed forbidden trails it had been from the sheer youthful exuberance +of life in him and not from weakness. Farrar judged that the heart of +the young vagabond was sound, that the desert winds and suns had kept +his head washed clean of shameful thoughts. + +The cowpuncher opened his eyes. He looked at his visitor without +speaking. + +"Didn't expect to find you asleep," apologized the camera man. + +Yeager got up and stretched his supple body in a yawn. "That's all +right. Just making up the sleep I lost last night on the road. No matter +a-tall." + +He was in blue overalls, the worn shiny chaps tossed across the back of +a chair. On the table lay the dusty, pinched-in hat, through the +disreputable crown of which Farrar had lately seen a lock of his brindle +hair rising like an aigrette. + +"Glad to have you join us. We need riders like you. Say, it was worth +five dollars to me to see the way you laid out Harrison." + +The cowpuncher's boyish face clouded. + +"I'm right sorry about that. It ce'tainly was a fool play. I don't blame +Harrison for getting sore." + +"He's sore all right. That's what I came to see you about. He's a rowdy, +Harrison is. And he'll make you trouble." + +"Most generally I don't pack a gun," Yeager observed casually. + +"It won't be a gun play; not to start with, anyhow. He used to be a +prizefighter. He'll beat you up." + +"Well, it don't hurt a man's system to absorb a licking once in a blue +moon." + +The cowpuncher said it smilingly, with a manner of negligent competence +that came from an experience of many dangers faced, of many perilous +ways safely trodden. + +Farrar had not yet quite discharged his mind. "There's nothing to +prevent you from slipping round to the stable and pulling your freight +quietly." + +"Except that I don't want to," added the new extra. "No, sir. I've got a +job and I'm staying with it. I'll sit here like a horned toad till the +boss gives me my time." + +The camera man beamed. To meet so debonair and care-free a specimen of +humanity warmed the cockles of his heart. + +"I'll bet you're some scrapper yourself," he suggested. + +"Oh, no. He'll lick me, I reckon. Say, what do they hold you up for at +this hacienda?" + +The lank camera man supplied information, adding that he knew of a good +cheap boarding-place where one or two of the company put up. + +"If you say so, I'll take you right round there." + +Yeager reached promptly for his hat. "You talk like a dollar's worth of +nickels rattling out of a slot machine--right straight to the point." + +They walked together down the white, dusty street, crossed the outskirts +of the old Mexican adobe town, and came to a suburb of bungalows. In +front of one of these Farrar stopped. He unlatched the gate. + +"Here we are." + +There was an old-fashioned garden of roses and mignonettes and +hollyhocks, with crimson ramblers rioting over the wire trellis in front +of the broad porch. A girl with soft, thick, blue-black hair was bending +over a rosebush. She was snipping dead shoots with a pair of scissors. +At the sound of their feet crunching the gravel of the walk, her slender +figure straightened and she turned to them. The ripe lips parted above +pearly teeth in a smile of welcome to the camera man. + +"I've come begging again, Miss Ruth," explained Farrar. "This is Mr. +Yeager, a new member of our company. He wants to find a good +boarding-place, so of course I thought of your mother. Don't tell me +that you can't take him." + +A little frown of doubt furrowed her forehead. "I don't know, Mr. +Farrar. Our tables are about full. I'll ask mother." + +The eyes of the girl rested for an instant on the brown-faced youth +whose application the camera man was backing. He had taken off his hat, +and the sun-pour was on his tawny hair, on the lean, bronzed face and +broad, muscular shoulders. In his torn, discolored hat, his stained and +travel-worn clothes, he looked a very prince of tramps. But in his +quiet, steady gaze was the dynamic spark of self-respect that forebade +her to judge him by his garb. + +A faint flush burned in the dusky cheeks to which the long lashes +drooped because of a touch of embarrassment. He had seemed to read her +hesitation with an inner amusement that found expression in his +gray-blue eyes. + +"Tell her I'll be much obliged if she'll take me," Yeager said in his +gentle drawl. + +Considering his request, she stripped the gauntlet without purpose from +one of her little brown hands. A solitaire sparkled on the third finger. +Again she murmured, "I'll ask mother"; then turned and flashed up the +steps, her slender limbs carrying with fluent grace the pliant young +body. + +Presently appeared on the porch a plump, matronly woman of a wholesome +cleanness without and within. Judging by fugitive dabs of flour which +decorated her temple and her forehead, she had been making bread or pies +at the time she had been called by her daughter. Much of her life she +had lived in the Southwest, and one glance at Yeager was enough to +satisfy her. Through the dust and tarnished clothes of him youth shone +resplendent. The sun was still in his brindle hair, in his gay eyes. She +had a boy of her own, and the heart of her warmed to him. + +In five sentences they had come to an arrangement. The barn behind the +house had been remodeled so that it contained several bedrooms. Into one +of these Yeager was to move his scant effects at once. + +He and Farrar walked back to the hotel together. Harrison was waiting +for them on the porch. As soon as he caught sight of the cowpuncher he +strode forward. The straight line of his set mouth looked like a gash in +a melon. + +"Will you have it here or back of the garage?" he demanded, getting +straight to business. + +"Any place that suits you," agreed Steve affably. "Won't the bulls pinch +us if we do a roughhouse here?" + +Harrison turned with triumphant malice to Farrar. + +"Get your camera. You say you don't like phony stuff. Good enough. I'll +pull off the real goods for you in licking a rube. There's plenty of +room back of the garage." + +The camera man protested. "See here, Harrison. Yeager ain't looking for +trouble. He told you he was sorry. It was an accident. What's the use of +bearing a grudge?" + +The heavy glared at him. "You in this, Mr. Farrar? You're liable to have +a heluvatime if you butt into my business without an invite. Shack--and +git that camera." + +Yeager nodded to his new friend. "Go ahead and get it. We'll be waiting +back of the garage." + +Farrar hesitated, the professional instinct in him awake and active. + +"If you're dead keen on a mix-up, Harrison, why not come over to the +studio where I can get the best light? We'll make an indoor set of it." + +"Go you," promptly agreed Harrison. His vanity craved a picture of him +thrashing the extra, a good one that the public could see and that he +could afterwards gloat over himself. + +Yeager laughed in his slow way. "I'm to be massa-creed to make a Roman +holiday, am I? All right. Might as well begin earning that two-fifty per +I've been promised." + +The news spread, as if on the wings of the wind. Before Farrar had a +stage arranged to suit him and his camera ready, a dozen members of the +company drifted in with a casual manner of having arrived accidentally. +Fleming Lennox, leading man, appeared with Cliff Manderson, chief +comedian for the Lunar border company. Baldy Cummings, the property man, +strolled leisurely in to look over some costumes. But Steve observed +that he was panting rapidly. + +As he sat on a soap box waiting for Farrar to finish his preparations, +Yeager became aware that Lennox was watching him closely. He did not +know that the leading man would cheerfully have sacrificed a week's +salary to see Harrison get the trimming he needed. The handsome young +film actor was an athlete, a trained boxer, but the ex-prizefighter had +given him the thrashing of his life two months before. He simply had +lacked the physical stamina to weather the blows that came from those +long, gorilla-like arms with the weight of the heavy, rounded shoulders +back of them. The fight had not lasted five minutes. + +"Shapes well," murmured Manderson, nodding toward the new extra. + +The leading man agreed without much hope. He conceded the boyish +cowpuncher a beautiful trim figure, with breadth of shoulder, grace of +poise, and long, flowing muscles that rippled under the healthy skin +like those of a panther in motion. But these would serve him little +unless he was an experienced boxer. Harrison had tremendous strength +and power; moreover, he knew the game from years of battle in the ring. + +"He'll lose--won't be able to stand the gaff," Lennox replied gloomily, +his eyes fixed on Yeager as the young fellow rose lightly and moved +forward to meet his opponent. + +The extra was as tall as Harrison, but he looked like a boy beside him, +so large and massive did the heavy bulk. The contrast between them was +so great that Yeager was scarcely conceded a fighting chance. Steve +himself knew quite well that he was in for a licking at the hands of +this wall-eyed Hercules with the leathery brown face. + +He got it, efficiently and scientifically, but not before Harrison had +found out he was in a fight. The big man disdained any defense except +that which went naturally with his crouch. He had a tremendously long +reach and knew how to get the weight of his shoulders behind his +punishing blows. Usually Harrison did all the fighting. The other man +was at the receiving end. + +It was a little different this time. Yeager met his first rush with a +straight left that got home and jarred the prizefighter to his heels. To +see the look on the face of the heavy, compound of blank astonishment +and chagrin, was worth the price of admission. + +Lennox sang out encouragement. "Good boy. Go to him." + +Harrison put his head down and rushed. His arms worked like flails. They +beat upon Steve's body and face as a hammer does upon an anvil. Only by +his catlike agility and the toughness born of many clean years in the +saddle did the cowpuncher weather for the time the hurricane that lashed +at him. He dodged and ducked and parried by instinct, smothering what +blows he could, evading those he might, absorbing the ones he must. Out +of that first melee he came reeling and dizzy, quartering round and +round before the panting professional. + +The bully enraged was not a sight pleasant to see. He was too near akin +to the primeval brute. He glared savagely at his victim, who grinned +back at him with an indomitable jauntiness. + +"This is the life," the cowpuncher assured his foe cheerfully after +dodging a blow that was like the kick of a mule. + +Harrison rocked him with a short stiff uppercut. "Glad you like it," he +jeered. + +Yeager crossed with his right, catching him flush on the cheek. "Here's +your receipt for the same," he beamed. + +Like a wild bull the prizefighter was at him again. He beat down the +cowpuncher's defense and mauled him savagely with all the punishing +skill of his craft. Steve was a man of his hands. He had held his own in +many a rough-and-tumble bout. But he had no science except that which +nature had given him. As long as a man could, he stood up to Harrison's +trained skill. When at last he was battered to the ground it was because +the strength had all oozed out of him. + +Harrison stood over him, swaggering. "Had enough?" + +Where he had been flung, against one of the studio walls, Steve sat +dizzily, his head reeling. He saw things through a mist in a queer jerky +way. But still a smile beamed on his disfigured face. + +"Surest thing you know." + +"Don't want some more of the same?" jeered the victor. + +"Didn't hear me ask for more, did you? No, an' you won't either. Me, I +love a scrap, but I don't yearn for no encore after I've been clawed by +a panther and chewed up by a threshing-machine and kicked by an +able-bodied mule into the middle o' next week. Enough's a-plenty, as old +Jim Butts said when his second wife died." + +The prizefighter looked vindictively down at him. He was not satisfied, +though he had given the range-rider such a whaling as few men could +stand up and take. For the conviction was sifting home to him that he +had not beaten the man at all. His pile-driver blows had hammered down +his body, but the spirit of him shone dauntless out of the gay, +unconquerable eyes. + +With a sullen oath Harrison turned away. His sulky glance fell upon +Lennox, who was clapping his hands softly. + +"You'd be one grand little fighter, Yeager, if you only knew how," the +leading man said with enthusiasm. + +"Mebbe you'd like to teach him, Mr. Lennox," sneered Harrison. + +The star flushed. "Maybe I would, Mr. Harrison." + +"Or perhaps you'd rather show him how it's done." + +Lennox looked, straight at him. "Nothing doing. And I serve notice right +here that I'll have no more trouble with you. If it's got to come to +that either you or I will quit the company." + +The bully's eyes narrowed. "Which one of us?" + +"It'll be up to Threewit to pass on that." + +Harrison put on his coat and slouched sulkily out of the building. He +knew quite well that if it came to a choice between him and Lennox the +director would sacrifice him without a moment's consideration. + +Farrar, who had been grinding out pictures since the beginning of +hostilities, came forward to greet Yeager with a little whoop of joy. + +"Say, you sure go some, Cactus Center. I never did see a fellow eat up +such a licking and come up smiling. You're certainly one Mellin's Food +baby. I'm for you--strong." + +One of Steve's eyes was closing rapidly, but the other had not lost its +twinkle. + +"Does a fellow's system good to assimilate a tanning oncet in a +while--sort o' corrects any mistaken notions he's liable to collect. +Gentlemen, hush! Ain't Harrison the boss eat-em-alive white hope that +ever turkey-trotted down the pike?" + +The melancholy Manderson smiled. "You make a hit with me, Arizona. If I +were in your place I'd be waiting for the undertaker. You look like +you'd out come of a railroad wreck, two fires, and a cattle stampede +over your carcass. Here, boys, hustle along first aid to our friend the +punching-bag." + +They got him water and towels and a sponge. Steve, protesting +humorously, submitted to their ministrations. He was grateful for the +friendliness that prompted their kindness. The atmosphere had subtly +changed. During the afternoon he had sensed a little aloofness, an +intention on the part of the company members to stand off until they +knew him better. Now the ice was melted. They had taken him into the +family. He had passed with honors his preliminary examination. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +CHAD HARRISON + + +As soon as Steve stepped into the dining-room he knew that the story of +his fight with Harrison had preceded him. His battered face became an +immediate focus of curious veiled glances. These exhibited an animated +interest rather than surprise. + +Mrs. Seymour introduced him in turn to each of the other boarders, and +the furtive looks stared for a moment their frank questions at him. As +he drew in his chair beside a slender, tanned young woman, he knew with +some amusement that his arrival had interrupted a conversation of which +he had been the theme. + +The film actress seated beside Yeager must have been in her very early +twenties, but her pretty face, finely modeled, had the provocative +effrontery that is the note of twentieth-century young womanhood. Its +audacity, which was the quintessence of worldliness, held an alert +been-through-it-all expression. + +"I hope you like Los Robles, Mr. Yeager. Some of us don't, you know," +she suggested. + +"Like it fine, Miss Ellington," he answered with enthusiasm, accepting +from Ruth Seymour a platter of veal croquettes. + +Daisy Ellington slanted mischievous eyes toward him. "Not much doing +here. It's a dead little hole. You'll be bored to death--if you haven't +been already." + +"Me! I've found it right lively," retorted Steve, his eyes twinkling. +"Had all the excitement I could stand for one day. You see I come from +way back in the cow country, ma'am." + +"And I came from New York," she sighed. "When it comes to little old +Broadway I'm there with bells on. What d'you mean, cow country? Ain't +this far enough off the map? Say, were you ever in New York?" + +"Oncet. With a load of steers my boss was shipping to England. Lemme +see. It was three years ago come next October." + +"Three years ago. Why, that was when I was in the pony ballet with +'Adam, Eve, and the Apple.' Did you see the show?" + +"Bet I did." + +Her eyes sparkled. "I was in the first row, third from the left in the +'Good-Night' chorus. Some kick to that song, wasn't there?" + +"I should say yes. We're old friends, then, aren't we?" exclaimed Yeager +promptly. He buried her little hand in his big brown paw, a friendly +smile beaming through the disfigurements of his bruised face. + +"He didn't do a thing to you, did he?" she commented, looking him over +frankly. + +"Not a thing--except run me through a sausage-grinder, drop me out of +one of these aeroplanes, hammer my haid with a pile-driver, and jounce +me up and down on a big pile of sharp rocks. Outside of trifles like +that I had it all my own way." + +"I don't see any alfalfa in _your_ hair," she laughed. Then, lowering +her voice discreetly, she added: "Harrison's a brute. I'll tell you +about him some time when Ruth isn't round." + +"Ruth!" Steve glanced at the young girl who moved about the room with +such rhythmic grace helping the Chinese waiter serve her mother's +guests. "What has she got to do with Harrison?" + +"Engaged to him--that's all. See that sparkler on her finger? Wouldn't +it give you a jolt that a nice little girl like her would take up with a +stiff like Harrison?" + +"What's her mother thinking about?" asked the cowpuncher under cover of +the conversation that was humming briskly all around the tables. + +Daisy lifted her shoulders in a careless little shrug. "Oh, her mother! +What's she got to do with it? Harrison has hypnotized the kid, I guess. +He throws a big chest, and at that he ain't bad-looking. He's one man +too, if he is a rotten bad lot." + +The young woman breezed on to another subject in the light, inconsequent +fashion she had, and presently deserted Yeager to meet the badinage of +an extra sitting at an adjoining table. + +After dinner Steve went to his new quarters to get a cigar he had left +on the table. It was one Farrar had given him. He was cherishing it +because his financial assets had become reduced to twenty cents and he +did not happen to know when pay-day was. + +Yeager climbed the barn stairs humming a range song:-- + + "Black Jack Davy came a-riding along, + Singing a song so gayly, + He laughed and sang till the merry woods rang + And he charmed the heart of a lady, + And he charmed--" + +Abruptly he pulled up in his stride and in his song. Ruth Seymour was in +the room putting new sheets and pillow-cases on the bed. + +"I haven't had time before. I didn't think you would be through dinner +so soon," she explained in a voice soft and low. + +"That's all right. I only dropped up to get a cigar I left on the table. +Don't let me disturb you." + +Her troubled eyes rested on the strong, lean face that went so well with +the strong, lean body. One eye was swollen and almost shut. Red bruises +glistened on the forehead and the cheeks. A bit of plaster stretched +diagonally above the right cheekbone where the prizefighter's knuckles +had cut a deep gash. Little ridges covered his countenance as if it had +been a contour map of a mountainous country. But through all the havoc +that had been wrought flashed his white teeth in a cheerful smile. + +The girl's lip trembled. "I'm sorry you--were hurt." + +He flashed a quick look at her. "Sho! Forget it, Miss Seymour. I wasn't +hurt any--none to speak of. It don't do a big husky like me any harm to +be handed a licking." + +"You--hit him first, didn't you?" + +"Yes, ma'am,--knocked him out cold before he knew where he was at. He +was entitled to a come-back. I'm noways hos-tile to him because he's a +better man than I am." + +She stood with the pillow in her hands, shy as a fawn, but with a +certain resolution, too, the trouble of her soul still reflected on the +sweet face. + +"Why do men--do such things?" she asked with a catch of her breath. + +He scratched his curly head in apologetic perplexity. "Search me. I +reckon the cave man is lurking around in most of us. We hadn't ought to. +That's a fact." + +"It was all a mistake, Miss Ellington says. You thought he was hurting +Miss Winters. Why didn't you tell him you were sorry? Then it would have +been all right." + +The cowpuncher did not bat an eye at this innocent suggestion. + +"That's right. Why didn't I think of that? Then of course he would have +laid off o' me." + +"He--Mr. Harrison--is quick-tempered. I suppose all brave men are. But +he's generous, too. If you had explained--" + +"I reckon you're right. He sure is generous, even in the whalings he +gives. But don't worry about me. I'm all right, and much obliged for +your kindness in asking." + +Steve found his cigar and retired. He carried with him in memory a +picture of a troubled young creature with soft, tender eyes gleaming +starlike from beneath waves of dark hair. + +Yeager met Harrison swaggering up the gravel walk toward the house. A +malevolent gleam lit in the cold black eyes of the bully. + +"How you feeling, young fella?" + +"A hundred and eighty years old," answered the cowpuncher promptly with +a grin. "Every time I open my mouth my face cracks. You ce'tainly did +give me a proper trimming. I don't know sic-'em about this scientific +fight game." + +Harrison scowled. "There's more at the same address any time you need +it." + +"Not if I see you coming in time to make a getaway," retorted Steve with +a laugh. + +As the range-rider passed lightly down the walk there drifted back to +the prizefighter the words of a cowboy song:-- + + "Oh, bury me out on the lone prairee, + In a narrow grave just six by three, + Where the wild coyotes will howl o'er me-- + Oh, bury me out on the lone prairee." + +Harrison ripped out an oath. There was a note of gentle irony about the +minor strain of the song that he resented. He had given this youth the +thrashing of his life, but he had apparently left his spirit quite +uncrushed. What he liked was to have men walk in fear of him. + +The song presently died on the lips of Steve. Harrison was on his way to +call on Ruth. The man had somehow won her promise to marry him. It was +impossible for Yeager to believe that the child knew what she was doing. +To think of her as the future wife of Chad Harrison moved him to +resentment at life's satiric paradoxes. To give this sweet young +innocent to such a man was to mate a lamb with a tiger or a wolf. The +outrage of it cried to Heaven. What could her mother be thinking of to +allow such a wanton sacrifice? + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE EXTRA + + +From the first Yeager enjoyed his work with the Lunar Company. Young and +full-blooded, he liked novelty and adventure, life in the open, new +scenes and faces. As a film actor he did not have to seek sensations. +They came to him unsought. He had the faculty of projecting himself with +all his mind into the business of the moment, so that he soon knew what +it was to be a noble and self-conscious hero as well as an unmitigated +villain. + +One day he was a miner making his last stand against a band of Mexican +banditti, the next he was crawling through the mesquite to strike down +an intrepid ranger who laughed at death. He fought desperate single +combats, leaped from cliffs into space or across bridgeless chasms, took +part in dozens of sets illustrating scenes of frontier life as Billy +Threewit conceived these. Sometimes Steve smiled. The director's ideas +had largely been absorbed in New York from reading Western fiction. But +so long as he drew down his two-fifty a day and had plenty of fun doing +it, Steve was no stickler for naked realism. The "bad men" of Yeager's +acquaintance had usually been quiet, soft-spoken citizens, notable +chiefly for a certain chilliness of the eye and an efficient economy of +expression that eliminated waste. Those that Threewit featured were of a +different type. They strutted and bragged and made gun plays on every +possible occasion. + +Perhaps this was why Harrison's stuff got across. By nature a swaggering +bully, he had only to turn loose his real impulses to register what the +director wanted of a bad man. In the rough-and-tumble life he had led, +it had been Yeager's business to know men. He made no mistake about +Harrison. The fellow might be a loud-mouthed braggart; none the less he +would go the limit. The man was game. + +Lennox met Steve one day as the latter was returning from the property +room with a saddle Threewit had asked him to adjust. The star stopped +him good-naturedly. + +"Care to put the gloves on with me some time, Yeager?" + +The cowpuncher's face brightened. "I sure would. The boys say you're the +best ever with the mitts." + +"I'm a pretty good boxer, but I don't trail in your class as a fighter. +What you need is to take some lessons. If you'd care to have me show you +what I know--" + +"Say, you've rung the bell first shot." + +"Come up to the hotel to-night, then. No need advertising it. Harrison +might pick another quarrel with you to show you what you don't know." + +Steve laughed. "He's ce'tainly one tough citizen. He can look at a pine +board so darned sultry it begins to smoke. All right. Be up there +to-night, Mr. Lennox." + +From that day the boxing lessons became a regular thing. The claim +Lennox had made for himself had scarcely done him justice. He was one of +the best amateur boxers in the West. In Yeager he had a pupil quick to +learn. The extra was a perfect specimen physically, narrow of flank, +broad of shoulder, with the well-packed muscles of one always trained to +the minute. Fifteen years in the saddle had given him a toughness of +fiber no city dweller could possibly equal. Nights under the multiple +stars in the hills, cool, invigorating mornings with the pine-filled air +strong as wine in his clean blood, long days of sunshine full of action, +had all contributed to make him the young Hermes that he was. Cool and +wary, supple as a wildcat, light as a dancing schoolgirl on his feet, he +had the qualities which go to help both the fighter and the boxer. +Lennox had never seen a man with more natural aptitude for the sport. + +Sometimes Farrar was present at these lessons. Often Baldy Cummings, who +liked the cowpuncher because Steve was always willing to help him get +the properties ready for the required sets, would put on the gloves with +him and try him out for a round or two. Manderson, the melancholy +comedian, occasionally dropped in with some other member of the company. + +The same thought was in the mind of all of them except Yeager himself. +The extra was being trained to meet Harrison. It was apparent to all of +them that the prizefighter was nursing a grudge. The jaunty insouciance +of the young range-rider irritated him as a banderilla goads a bull in +the ring. + +"Steve gets under his hide. Some day he's going to break loose again," +Farrar told Manderson as they watched Lennox and Yeager box. + +"The kid shapes fine. If Mr. Chad Harrison waits long enough he's liable +to find himself in trouble when he tackles that young tiger cub," +answered the comedian. "Ever see anybody quicker on his feet? Reminds me +of Jim Corbett when he was a youngster." + +The news of the boxing lessons traveled to Harrison. He set his heavy +jaw and waited. He intended that Yeager should go to the hospital after +their next mix-up. + +Meanwhile he found other causes for disliking the new man. Always a +vain man, his jealousy was inflamed because Steve was a better rider +than he. At any time he was ready with a sneer for what he called the +cowpuncher's "grandstanding." + +"It gets across, Harrison," Threewit told him bluntly one day. "We've +never had a rider whose work was so snappy. He's doing fine." + +"Watch him blow up one of these days--nothing to him," growled the +heavy. + +"There's a whole lot to him," disagreed the producing director as he +walked away to superintend the arrangement of a set. + +Several days after this some new horses were added to the remuda of the +Lunar Company. Harrison picked a young mustang to ride in a chase scene +they were going to pull off. The pony was a wiry buckskin with powerful +flanks and withers. The prizefighter was no sooner in the saddle than it +developed that the animal had not been half broken. It took to pitching +at once and presently spilled the rider. + +Steve, sitting on the corral fence with Jackson and Orman, two other +riders for the company, called across cheerfully,-- + +"Not hurt, are you?" + +The heavy got up swearing. "Any of your damned business, is it?" + +He caught at the pony bridle, jerked it violently, and hammered the +lifted head of the dancing mustang with his fist. After several attempts +he succeeded in kicking its ribs. Yeager said nothing, but his eyes +gleamed. In the cow country men interfere rarely when a vicious rider +abuses his mount, but such a man soon finds himself under an unvoiced +ban. + +Harrison backed the mustang to a corner, swung to the saddle, and tugged +savagely at the reins. Two minutes later he took the dust again. The +horse had spent the interval in a choice variety of pitching that +included sun-fishing, fence-rowing, and pile-driving. + +To Jackson Steve made comment. "Most generally it don't pay to beat up a +horse. A man's liable to get piled, and if he gets tromped on folks +don't go into mourning." + +Harrison could not hear the words, but he made a fair guess at their +meaning. He turned toward Yeager with a snarl. + +"Got anything to say out loud, young fella?" + +"Only that any horse is likely to act that way when it gets its back up. +I wouldn't ride a horse without any spirit." + +"Think you can ride this one, mebbe?" + +Without speaking Yeager slid down from the fence and approached the +mustang. The animal backed away, muscles a-tremble and eyes full of +fear. Steve's movements were slow, but not doubtful. He stroked the +pony's neck and gentled it. His low voice murmured soft words into the +alert ear cocked back suspiciously. Then, without any haste or +unevenness of motion, he swung up and dropped gently into the saddle. + +For an instant the horse stood trembling. Yeager leaned forward and +patted the neck of the colt softly. His soothing voice still comforted +and reassured. Gradually its terror subsided. + +"Open the gate," Steve called to Orman. + +He rode out to the creosote flats and cantered down the road. A quarter +of an hour later he swung from the saddle beside Threewit. + +"Plumb gentle. You can make any horse a devil when you're one yourself." + +They were standing in front of the stable. Threewit started to reply, +but the words were taken out of his mouth. From out of the stable strode +Harrison, a cold anger in his eyes. + +"That's your opinion, is it?" + +Yeager's light blue eyes met his steadily. "You've heard it." + +"I've heard other things, too. You're taking boxing lessons. You're +going to need them, my friend." + +"The sooner the quicker," answered Steve evenly. + +"You'll cut that out, both of you," ordered Threewit curtly. "I'll fire +you both if you don't behave." + +"I'm no school-kid, Threewit. I play my own hand. Sabe?" Harrison turned +his cold eyes on the range-rider. "And I serve notice right here that +next time my young rube friend and me mixes you'd better bring a basket +to gather up the pieces." + +Yeager brushed a fly languidly from his gauntlet. "That's twice he's +used the word 'friend.' I reckon he don't know I'm some particular who +calls me that." + +"That'll be enough, Yeager. Don't start anything here. We're a +moving-picture outfit, not a bunch of pugs." Briskly the director +changed the subject. "I want you to choose a couple of the boys and go +down to Yarnell's after a herd of cattle we're going to need in that +Tapidero Jim picture. If you need more help the old man will let you +have one or two of his riders." + +Harrison had turned to leave, but he stopped to examine the conchas on a +pair of leathers. Steve had a fleeting thought that the man was +listening; also that he was covering the fact with a manner of elaborate +carelessness. + +"Want I should start right away?" + +"Yep. Can you get back by to-morrow night?" + +"I reckon. Has Yarnell got 'em rounded up?" asked Yeager. + +"He telephoned me this morning they were ready." + +"Then we'd ought to reach Los Robles late to-morrow night if we hit the +trail steady." + +"Good enough. Who do you want to take with you?" + +"I'll take Shorty and Orman." + +The details were arranged on the spot. Harrison was still giving his +attention to the conchas on the chaps. They were made of 'dobe dollars. +He had seen Jackson wear them fifty times and had never before showed +the least interest in them. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +YEAGER ASKS ADVICE + + +Though Yeager had enjoyed immensely his month with the Lunar people, he +tasted again the dust of the drag-driver with a keen pleasure. He had +not yet been able to get it out of his mind that he was only playing at +work with the film company. When he heard some of the others complain +about long hours and dangerous stunts he wished they could have ridden +on the roundup for the Lone Star outfit about a week. Arizona had tanned +the complexions of the actors, but it had left most of them still soft +of muscle and fiber. The flabbiness of Broadway cannot be washed out of +the soul in a month. + +But to-day he felt he had done a man's work. It had been like old times. +The white dust of the desert had enwrapped them in clouds. The +untempered sun had beat down a palpitating heat upon dry sand wastes. +The hill cattle he was driving were as wild as deer. A dozen times some +lean steer had bolted and gone racing down a precipitous hillside like a +rabbit. As often Four Bits had wheeled in its tracks and pounded through +clutching cholla and down breakneck inclines after the escaping +three-year-old. Fierce cactus thorns had torn at the leather chaps as +horse and rider had ripped through them, zigzagging across the steep +mountain slope at a gallop, the pony now slithering down the shale with +braced forelegs, now taking washes and inclines with the surefooted +litheness of a cat. + +Now stars by millions roofed the velvet night. A big moon had climbed +out of a crotch of the purple hills and poured a silvery light into a +valley green and beautiful with the magic touch of spring. A grove of +suhuaro rose like ghostly candelabra from the hillside opposite. The +mesquite carried a wealth of dainty foliage. Even the flat-leafed +prickly pear blended into the soft harmony of the mellow night. + +Los Robles was still half a dozen miles away and the cattle were weary +from the long drive. For an hour they had seemed to smell water and the +leaders made a bee-line for it, bellowing with stretched necks as they +hurried forward. It was late when at last they reached the water-hole. + +"Time to throw off. We'll make camp in the cool of the morning," Yeager +called to Shorty. + +They built a fire of dead ironwood upon which they boiled coffee and +fried bacon. Bread they had brought with them. After eating, they lay at +ease and smoked. + +There was little danger of the tired cattle straying, but Yeager +divided his party so that they should take turn about night-herding. He +took the first watch himself. + +The stillness of the desert night was a thing to wonder at. The silence +of the great outdoors, of vast empty space, subdued the restlessness of +the cattle. Many a time before the range-rider had felt the fascination +of it creep into his blood as he had circled the sleeping herd murmuring +softly a Spanish love-song. By day the desert was often a place of +desolation and death, but under the mystic charm of night it was +transformed to a panorama of soft loveliness. + +He thought of many episodes in his short, turbid life. They flashed upon +the screen of his memory as did the pictures of the Lunar Company upon +the canvas. In his time he had mushed in Alaska, fought in Mexico, +driven stage at the Nevada gold-fields, and wandered into many a lawless +camp. Always he had answered the call of adventure regardless of where +it led. + +His thoughts were fugitive, inconsequent. Now they had to do with Daisy +Ellington, the New York chorus girl whose mobile, piquant face was +helping to make the Lunar reels popular. Steve was engaged in a +whirlwind flirtation with her which both of them were enjoying +extremely. He liked her slangy audacity, the frank good-fellowship with +which she had met him. Daisy was a good sport. She might pretend to sigh +for the lights of Manhattan, but she was having a tremendously good time +in Arizona. + +"Reach for the roof, friend. No, I wouldn't rock the boat if I was you. +Sit steady and don't move." + +The words came to Yeager low but imperative. Automatically his hands +went into the air even as he slewed his head to find out who was voicing +the curt command. A rope dropped over his arms and was jerked tight just +below the knees. Very cautiously a man emerged from behind a clump of +cholla. The first thing he did was to remove the automatic revolver from +the cowpuncher's chaps, the second to wind the rope tightly around his +legs. + +Steve made no comment, asked no questions. He knew that he would find +out all about it in time. Just now he was not running the show. + +"I expect your arms must be tired grabbin' at the stars. Drop 'em down +clost to your sides. That's fine. Lucky you didn't start anything +coarse, my friend." + +The man gave a low whistle, evidently a signal, then moved for the first +time within range of his prisoner's eyes. He was masked and wore a soft +black hat pulled well down over his forehead. A Mexican serape had been +flung carelessly across his well-built shoulders. + +Adroitly he bound Yeager's arms to his side by winding the rope round +and round his body, after which he knotted it tightly several times at a +point just between the shoulder blades. + +The range-rider observed that he was a heavy-set, powerful man of about +his own height. He wore plain shiny leather chaps and the usual +high-heeled boots of a cowpuncher. + +Presently three other men appeared out of the darkness, bringing with +them Orman and Shorty, both of whom, wakened out of a sound sleep, were +plainly surprised and disturbed. + +Shorty was protesting plaintively. "This here ain't no way to treat a +man. I ain't done nothin'. There ain't no occasion whatever for a gun +play. What d'you want, anyhow? I'm no bad hombre. And me sleepin' so +peaceable, too, when you shoved the hardware into my pantry, doggone +it." + +The three men in charge of Yeager's assistants were also masked. One of +them in particular drew Steve's eyes. He was a slight, short person with +the walk and bearing of a youth. He wore for a mask a red bandanna +handkerchief with figures, into which holes had been cut for the eyes. +The other two were Mexicans. + +The heavy-set man drew them aside and gave orders in a low voice. What +these were Yeager could not hear, but from the gesturing he judged the +leader of the band was giving explicit directions which he expected to +be obeyed to the letter. After tying up Shorty and Yeager, the Mexicans +and the younger man disappeared. The steady bawling of cattle that began +shortly after told what they were doing. The herd was being moved slowly +toward the south from its bedding-ground. + +Already Steve had suspected the true state of affairs. He needed nobody +to tell him now that the cattle were to be driven across the line into +Sonora to supply some of the guerilla insurgents operating in the wilds +of that state. Once they were safe in Mexico the cattle would be sold to +old Pasquale for a fraction of their real value, the money received in +exchange for them having been wrung by that old ruffian from some +prisoner he had put to the torture to give up his honest earnings. + +The man who had stayed to watch Yeager and his riders finished one cigar +and lit another. He held to a somber silence, smoking moodily, a +vigilant eye on his prisoners. Two or three times he looked at his watch +impatiently. It must have been close to midnight when he rose as if to +go. + +"I'm going back into the bushes," he announced. "If any of you fellas +make a move to free yourself inside of half an hour I'll guarantee you +die of lead poisoning sudden." + +They heard him moving away in the mesquite. + +Shorty swore softly. "What d' you know about this? Me, I've had +buck-ague for most three hours expecting that doggoned holdup to blow +the roof of my head off. I don't sabe his game, unless he's on the +rustle." + +"Hell! He's runnin' these cows into Sonora. It don't take any wiz to +guess that," answered Orman. + +Steve was already busy trying to free himself. He gave no credit to the +man's assertion that they would be watched from the bushes. The leader +of the rustlers was already half a mile away, lengthening the distance +between them at every stride of his galloping horse. The range-rider +knew that their horses had probably been driven away, but he knew, too, +that if Four Bits was within hearing of his whistle he could be depended +upon to answer. + +The cowpuncher had offered no resistance to being tied except a passive +one. He had kept his chest expanded as much as possible when the ropes +had been tightened and he had braced the muscles of his arm against the +pressure of the folds. Ten minutes of steady work released one arm. The +rest was a matter of a few moments. With his knife he slashed the ropes +that bound Shorty and Orman. + +Already his whistle had brought an answer from Four Bits. Five minutes +later Steve was astride the barebacked horse galloping across country +toward Los Robles. His friends he had left to follow on foot as best +they could. He had a very particular reason why he wanted to reach the +hotel as soon as possible. A suspicion had bitten into his mind. He +wanted to verify or dismiss it. + +An hour later Four Bits pounded down the main street of Los Robles. +Almost simultaneously Yeager brought the horse slithering to a halt and +with one lithe swing of his body landed on the ground in front of the +hotel porch. He ran up the steps and into the lobby. Behind his cage the +night clerk was drowsing. + +"Anybody come into the hotel the last thirty minutes?" Yeager asked +sharply. + +The clerk thought. "No, I reckon not. There was Mr. Simmons--but that +was most an hour since." + +"Nobody else?" + +"No. Why?" + +The range-rider turned to the stairs, took them three at a time, and +followed the corridor to Room 217. He hammered on the door with his +fist. + +A sleepy voice wanted to know who was there. + +"It's Steve Yeager, Mr. Threewit. I wanta see you." + +"You've got all to-morrow to see me in, haven't you?" + +"My business won't wait." + +Grumbling, the producing director got up. Presently he opened the door +and stood revealed in a dressing-gown over his pajamas. + +"What do you want, my anxious friend?" + +"We've been held up." + +"Held up!" A slow grin spread over Threewit's fat good-natured face. +"Well, I'll bet Mr. Holdup didn't get a mint off you lads." + +"He didn't bother with us. It was the cattle he wanted. They've driven +them across the line. At least, I reckon so." + +Threewit woke up instantly. "That's different. Unload your story, +Yeager." + +The extra told it in six sentences. + +"Of course you didn't know any of the holdups. They were masked, you +say?" + +"Yep." Steve's cool, steady eyes held those of the director. "But I've +got a fool notion just the same that I do know one of them. Come with me +to Harrison's room." + +"But--" + +"I'll do all the talking. Come along." + +"Now, see here, Yeager. Just because you and Harrison are at outs--" + +"Have I made any charges against him? Maybe I want to ask his advice. +Maybe he could help us straighten out this thing. Got to pull together, +haven't we?" A cynical light in the eyes of the young man contradicted +his words. + +Reluctantly the director followed the extra to the room of the heavy on +the third floor. Yeager knocked. He rapped again, and a third time. + +Drowsily a voice demanded what was wanted. Presently the door was flung +open and Harrison stood blinking in the doorway, heavy-eyed and +slumberous. + +"What's the row?" he growled, scowling at Yeager. + +"We were held up on the way from Yarnell's by rustlers. They drove the +cattle away and left us tied up." + +"That any reason why you should wake me in the middle of the night? I +ain't got your cattle under the bed." The heavy jaw of the prizefighter +stood out saliently. Unconsciously his figure had drooped to the crouch +of defense. His small black eyes were wary and defiant. + +The cowpuncher laughed, lightly and easily. "I'm only a kid. Mr. +Threewit comes from the East and don't know anything about this +rustling game. We thought of you right away." + +"What do you mean you thought of me?" + +Yeager's eyes were innocent and steady. "Why, o' course we came to you +for advice--to ask you what we'd better do." + +"Oh! That's it, eh?" Was there the faintest flitter of relief on the +lowering face? Steve could not be sure. "Well, I'll dress and join you +downstairs, Mr. Threewit. With you in a minute." + +"We got no time to lose. Mind if we talk here, Harrison?" Without +waiting for permission the extra pushed into the room and began his +story. "Must 'a' been about six miles back that we threw off the trail +and camped. I figured on getting in early in the forenoon. Well, I was +night-herding when I got orders to punch a hole in the atmosphere with +my fists. I didn't do a thing but reach for the sky. A big masked guy +come out from the mesquite and helped himself to my gun. Then he tied me +up." + +"Would you know him again if you saw him?" interrupted the prizefighter +harshly. + +The gaze of Yeager met his blandly. There was the least possible pause, +and with it a certain tension. The younger man smiled. "Why, how could +I, seeing he was masked? He was a big sulky brute. I've a notion I'd +know his voice again if I heard it, though." + +"Think so?" In Harrison's voice was a jeer, derision in the +half-shuttered eyes that watched the other man vigilantly. + +"His hair was about the same color as yours," added Steve in a +matter-of-fact voice. + +The underhung jaw of the prizefighter shot out. "Meaning anything +particular?" + +"Why, no," replied Steve in amiable surprise. "What could I mean?" + +"How do I know what every buzzard-head's got in his cocoanut?" + +Steve continued his story, giving fuller details. His casual glances +wandered about the room. They found no mask, no Mexican serape, no black +felt hat. Since he had not expected to see these in plain view he was +not disappointed. A belt with a scabbarded revolver lay on the table. +The extra wondered whether it was the same weapon that had been pressed +against the back of his neck a few hours earlier. The boots lying half +under the bed were white with the dust of travel, but this was nothing +unusual. + +"You can have my advice gratis if you want it." Harrison addressed +himself pointedly to Threewit. "Send back to old man Yarnell's and +you'll find the cattle straying in about day after to-morrow." + +"But, if rustlers took them--" + +The big man laughed unpleasantly. "Forget it, Mr. Threewit. A fairy +tale to explain how-come your faithful cowboys to drap asleep and let +the bunch stray. I reckon a little too much redeye in camp is the c'rect +explanation." + +Yeager smiled, saying nothing. + +"And now I'm going to beat it for the hay again, Mr. Threewit. If you +recollect, I told you some one was going to blow up pretty soon. +Good-night." + +As they walked back down the corridor Steve asked one question of the +director. "Did it strike you he was a leetle too sleepy at first and +just a leetle too quick to get that chip on his shoulder?" + +"No, it didn't," snapped Threewit. Nobody likes to be dragged out of bed +at two A.M., to hear bad news, and the director was merely human. "It +makes me tired the way you two fellows shoot off about each other." + +"He's a pretty slick proposition," Yeager went on, unmoved. "He hit the +high spots back to town so as to have his alibi ready--didn't leave any +evidence floating around loose in his room. He must have come up the +back way so as to slip in without being noticed by the night clerk. At +that he couldn't have reached here more than a few minutes before me." + +"Quite a Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?" + +"Bet you a week's salary that if we go out to the stables we find one +of the horses still wet with sweat from a long run." + +"Go you once," retorted Threewit promptly. "Wait just a jiffy till I get +more clothes on." + +Steve's prediction was verified. White Stockings, one of the fastest +mounts in the remuda of the company, had been brought in from a long +hard run within the past half-hour. Its flanks were stained with sweat +and the marks of the saddle chafed its still moist back. + +"You win," admitted Threewit. "But that doesn't prove Harrison was on +its back." + +"No. Say, what about giving me a week off, Mr. Threewit?" + +"What for?" + +"I've just taken a notion to travel some. Mebbe I might run acrost those +cattle that strayed back to Yarnell's whilst I was sleeping." + +The director looked at him sharply. "All right. Go to it, son." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +PLUCKING A PIGEON + + +Steve slept almost around the clock. He lost breakfast, but was there +promptly for luncheon with the appetite of a harvest hand. During the +two days' drive he had missed the good home cooking of Mrs. Seymour and +he intended to make up for it. + +Orman and Shorty had reached town some time about daylight and had +spread the story of the holdup, so that the dining-room was humming with +excitement. A dozen questions were flung at Steve before he had well +taken his seat. He threw up his hands in surrender. + +Before he had finished telling his edited story, Shorty drifted in and +divided the interest. The little extra promptly took the stage away from +Yeager, whereupon Daisy Ellington absorbed the attention of Steve. She +asked a sharp question or two which he answered blandly. It was not his +intention to communicate any suspicions he happened to have. + +They were waiting for the dessert. Daisy put her lean, pretty elbows on +the table and her chin in her little doubled fists. A provocative +audacity was in the tilted smile she flashed at him. + +"Well?" + +"Well, what?" + +"Breeze on, Steve. You're doin' fine. Next scene." + +"That's all." + +"Say, do I look like I was born yesterday? See any green in my eye, +Cactus Center?" + +He grinned. "You're sure wise, compadre. But the rest is mostly +suspicions." + +"I'm listening," she nodded. + +"You're such a Sherlock Holmes I'd hate to go out with the boys if I was +married to you." + +"I'm your friend and wouldn't wish any such bad luck on you," she +countered gayly. Then, in a lower voice, with a sudden gravity: "Is it +Harrison, Steve?" + +Amazement sparkled for a moment in his eyes. "With your imagination, +Daisy,--" he was beginning when she cut him short. + +"You gotta tell me what's on your chest, you transparent kid." + +He knew she could keep a secret like a well. Looking round guardedly, +his voice fell to a whisper. "If I'd reached town ten minutes earlier +I'd 'a' beat him in and showed him up. Threewit won't hear to it, of +course, but the man that held me up was Chad Harrison. Take it or leave +it. Just the same it's a fact." + +Daisy nodded rapidly several times. "I take it, Steve. Always did know +there was something shady about the big stiff. And I'll tell you +something else you don't know. It's through that wild young colt brother +of hers that he's got a strangle hold on Ruth." + +Yeager set his lips to a noiseless whistle. "You mean--?" + +She flung his question aside with an impatient wave of her hand. "I +can't tell you what I mean. I've got no evidence. But it's true. She's +ridiculously fond of that young scamp Phil. Somehow--in some +way--Harrison has got the whip hand over him." + +His eyes fell on the slender girl waiting on the table at the other end +of the room. Her look met his. It almost seemed as if she knew they had +been talking about her, for the milky cheek took on a shell-pink tinge. +The long lashes fluttered down and she busied herself at once about her +work. + +"If she was my sister--" + +Daisy did not need a completed sentence to understand his meaning. "Can +you beat it?" she asked with a shrug. "Any gink that knows enough to +come in out of the rain could tell that Chad Harrison is a bad egg. Give +him the once over and you can see that." + +After Ruth had arranged the tables for dinner she stole out to the porch +for a breath of fresh air. Already the approach of an Arizona summer was +beginning to make itself felt during the middle of the day. Yeager sat +beneath the wild cucumber vines pleating a horsehair hatband for Daisy +Ellington. + +Ruth liked this brown, lithe cowpuncher, all sinew and bone and muscle. +His smile was so warm and friendly, his manner so boyish and yet so +competent. To look into his kind, steady eyes was to know that he could +be trusted. + +She moved in his direction shyly, a touch of pink blooming in her soft +cheeks. Ruth was charmingly unsure of herself. It was always easy to +disturb her composure. Even a casual encounter with the slim, +brown-faced range-rider was an adventure for her. Now her pansy eyes +deepened in color with excitement, with the tremulous fear of what she +was to learn. + +"Mr. Yeager, I--wanted to ask you about--about the holdup." + +"What about it, Miss Ruth?" + +"Did you--know any of them?" + +"How could I? They were masked." His eyes had taken on a film of +wariness that blotted out for the moment their kindness. + +"I didn't know--I thought, perhaps,--" She tried a new start. "Did you +say that three of them were Mexicans?" + +"Two of them," he corrected. + +There was the least quiver of her lip. "The others were--both big men, +didn't you say?" + +"I didn't say." + +A footstep sounded on the crisp gravel walk. Steve looked up, in time to +catch the flash of warning menace Harrison sent toward the girl. + +"Mr. Yeager has been having a pipe-dream, Ruth. Don't wake him up," +jeered the heavy. + +Ruth fled unobtrusively and left the men alone. + +"Hear you're going on a vacation," said Harrison gruffly. + +"You've heard correct." Yeager pleated his hatband with steady fingers. +His voice was even and placid. + +Harrison looked him over with indolent insolence. "Some folks find this +climate don't agree with them. Some folks find it better to drift out, +casual-like, y' understand?" + +"Yes?" + +"I'm tellin' it to you straight." + +"That you're going to leave? The Lunar Company will miss you," suggested +the range-rider politely. + +"Think you're darned clever, don't you? It's you that's leaving the +company, Mr. Yeager." + +"For a week." + +"For good." + +"Hadn't heard of it. News to me," answered Steve lightly. + +"I'm givin' you the tip. See?" + +"Oncet I knew a fellow who lived to be 'most ninety minding his own +business," observed the cowpuncher to the world in general as he held up +and examined his work. + +"It ain't considered safe to get gay with me. I'm liable to lam your +head off," threatened the big man sullenly. + +"And then again you're liable not to. I'm not freightin' with your +outfit, Mr. Harrison. Kindly lay off of me and you'll find we get along +fine." + +Steve rose and passed on his way to the street. Harrison was in two +minds whether to force an issue again with him, but something in the +contour of that close-gripped jaw, in the gleam of the steady eyes, was +more potent than the dull rage surging in him. He let the opportunity +pass. + +Four Bits carried Yeager away from Los Robles at a road gait. Horse and +rider were taking the border trail. It led them through a desolate +country of desert where the flat-leafed prickly pear and the occasional +pudgy creosote were the chief forms of vegetable life. Now and again a +swift might be seen basking on a rock or a Gila monster motionless on +the hillside. The ominous buzz of a rattler more than once made the pony +sidestep. Mesa and flat and wash succeeded each other monotonously. + +It was after sunset when they drew up at a feed corral in Arixico. Steve +looked after his horse and sauntered down the little adobe street to a +Chinese restaurant which ostentatiously announced itself as the "New +York Cafe." This side of the business street was in the territory of +Uncle Sam, the other half floated the Mexican flag. After he had eaten, +the young man drifted across to one of the gambling-houses that invited +the patronage of Americans and natives alike. + +He found within the heterogeneous gathering usually to be observed in +such a place. Vaqueros brushed shoulders with Chinese laundrymen, +cowpunchers with soldiers, peons with cattlemen from Arizona and Texas. +Here were miners and soldiers of fortune and plain tramps. More than one +of the shining-eyed gamblers had a price upon his head. Several were +outlaws. A score or more had taken part in the rapine and the pillage of +the guerrilla warfare that has of late years been the curse of the +country. It would have been hard in a day's travel to find an assembly +where human life was held at less value. + +Among these lawless, turbulent siftings of the continent Yeager was +very much at home. He merged inconspicuously into the picture, a quiet, +brown-faced man with cool, alert eyes. Nobody paid the least attention +to him. He might be a horse-thief or an honest cowpuncher. It was a +matter of supreme indifference to those present. Experience in that +outdoor frontier school which always keeps open session had taught them +that a man lived longer here when he minded his own business. + +Steve stood close to the bar. A prospector leaned against it and talked +to an acquaintance while they drank their beer. + +"This here's how I figure it," he was saying. "I had a little dough when +I begun digging gopher holes in these here hills. Not much--say fifteen +hundred, mebbe. I sure ain't got it now. Lost it in a hole in the +ground. Well; I reckon I'll go on looking for it where I lost it." + +Casually Yeager sauntered over to the roulette table. A fat man in duck +trousers--he was the agent for a firm of rifle manufacturers, Steve +learned later--was bucking the wheel hard. In front of him lay a pile of +gold-pieces and several stacks of chips. He was very red in the face +from excitement and cocktails. The range-rider put a half-dollar on the +red and won. He let it ride, won again, and shifted the chips to the +black. Once more the goddess of luck favored him. He divided his pile. +Half went on the red, the rest on the first number his eye caught. It +happened to be seventeen. The croupier spun the wheel again. The ball +whirled round, dipped down once or twice, and plumped into the +compartment numbered seventeen. + +"Enough's a-plenty. Here's where I cash in," announced Steve cheerfully. + +He stuffed the bills carelessly into his pocket and strolled over to the +faro table. Yeager had come on business, not for pleasure. He intended +to play just enough to give a colorable reason for his presence. + +His roving eye settled upon the poker table at the rear of the room. +Five men were playing. Two were Mexicans, three white. Two of the +Americans were dismissed from Steve's mind with a casual glance. They +were negligible factors. The third had his back to the observer, but the +figure had a slender, boyish trimness that spoke of youth. The Mexican +sitting to his right was a square-built fellow of forty with a scar on +the cheek running from mouth to ear. There was on his face a certain +ugliness of expression, a furtive cruelty. That there was an +understanding between him and the man opposite soon became apparent to +Yeager. They cross-raised the boy, working together to mulct him of the +pile of chips in front of him. + +It was the Mexican who sat with his back to the wall that drew and held +the cowpuncher's eye. He too was slender, not much past thirty, but with +the youth long since stamped out of his face. Sleek and black, a +dominant personality, he sat there warily as a rattlesnake, dark eyes +gleaming from a masked, smiling countenance. + +The boy was the pigeon, and it was the Mexicans that were plucking him. +So much Steve learned within two minutes. He had cut his eye teeth at +poker, and he saw at a glance that this was no game for a youngster. +Quietly he moved a step or two closer along the wall. He observed the +play without appearing to do so. + +The tension of the game was relieved with casual conversation. The two +negligibles, playing about even, contributed mostly to it. The bulky +Mexican added his quota. The boy, a heavy loser, concealed his feelings +under the bravado expected of a good sport. + +They were playing jack pots with a stripped deck, the joker going as a +fifth ace or to fill a straight or a flush. Several hands were dealt +without any stayers. The slender Mexican was dealing when the sensation +of the game was handed out. + +One of the negligibles opened the pot. The bulky Mexican stayed. + +In the slow, easy drawl of the Southwest the boy spoke. "Me, I reckon +I'll have to tilt it. Got to protect your hand from these wolves, Dave." +He pushed in a stack of blue chips. + +The third American did not stay. It was now up to the dealer--his name, +it appeared, was Ramon Culvera. After a moment's hesitation he measured +a stack of blues by those the boy had put in the pot and added to it +another pile of yellows. With a grunt of protest the older Mexican +stayed. The man who had opened the pot dropped out. + +"Enough's a-plenty. Me, I got no business trailing along with you +hyenas," he explained. + +"Different here," commented the boy. "My cards look good enough for +another hike." + +Culvera examined his hand carefully, met the raise, and picked up the +deck. + +The Mexican with the scar interposed. "But one moment, senor. Let us +make it a good pot." He pushed in all the chips in front of him. + +Yeager, standing against the wall, caught the swift flash of surprise in +the eyes of the boy. He counted the chips of the Mexican and then his +own. These he added to the small fortune in the center of the table. + +"Call it. I'm fifty-three shy," he said in an even voice. + +The range-rider knew without being told that this hand had been dealt +from a cold deck for the express purpose of cleaning out the boy. From +the tenseness of the lithe body, which had become, as it were, a coiled +spring, he knew that the lad's suspicions were stirring to life. + +The greedy little eyes of Culvera fastened on the boy. He made his first +mistake. "How much you play back, Pheelip?" + +The youngster answered. "I said a hundred bucks. I've got fifty-three in +the pot now. That leaves forty-seven." + +Culvera's raise was forty-seven dollars. The big Mexican shrugged. "Too +steep for Jesus Mendoza." He threw his cards into the discard. + +The boy who had been called Philip laid his cards face down on the table +in front of him. + +"Call it," he announced hoarsely. His eyes were fastened steadily on the +nimble brown fingers of the dealer. + +"Cards?" asked Culvera with an indolent lift of his eyebrows. + +Philip hesitated. He had the nine, ten, and jack of clubs, the queen of +hearts, and the joker. This counted as a king-high straight. Steve, +standing back and to one side of him, guessed the boy's dilemma. Should +he stand pat on his straight or discard the heart and draw to his +straight flush? Culvera's play had shown great strength and would +probably beat the pat hand. The lad took a chance and called for one +card. + +Culvera drew two. He left them lying on the table while he discarded +leisurely. + +"You're all in, Pheelip. It's a showdown. What you got?" + +Philip had drawn the six of clubs. He spread his hand with a sweeping +gesture. "All blue." + +The Mexican shrugged. "Beats me unless I helped." He showed three +eights, then faced the two cards he had drawn. The first was a king of +diamonds, the second the fourth eight. + +"Hard luck, Pheelip," he said, and all his teeth flashed in a friendly +smile as he opened both arms to rake in the chips. + +Philip sat silent, his mind seething with suspicions. Culvera had played +his hand very strangely, unless--unless he had known that a fourth eight +was waiting for him in the deck. The boy looked up, in time to catch a +vanishing smile on the face of Mendoza. + +"Just a moment, Ramon," he called sharply, covering the chips with his +hands. "That play--it don't look good to me. A man don't play threes so +strong as that." + +Culvera still smiled blandly, though his eyes were very watchful. "Me, I +have what you call a hunch, Pheelip." + +Yeager took two steps forward. "You bet he did. Cold deck, kid. The +other one is in his right-hand coat pocket." + +The suavity went out of Culvera's face as a light does from a blown +candle. Snarling, he rose from his seat and faced the cowpuncher. + +"Liar! Cabrone!" he hissed, reaching for his gun. + +Already the revolver of Mendoza was flashing in the air. + +Like a streak Steve's arm swept up. Twice his revolver sounded. There +was a crash of breaking glass from the incandescent lights. Yeager flung +himself against the table and drove it against Culvera who reeled back +against the wall and dropped his weapon. The sound of more shots, of men +dodging their way to safety, of a sharp cry followed by groans, had +trodden so swiftly on the heels of the range-rider's action that when he +turned a moment later he saw in the semi-darkness a smoke-filled room in +the confusion of chaotic movement. + +Philip stood close to him, a smoking .38 in his hand, while Mendoza, +clutching at his chair for support, sank slowly to the ground. + +Close to the boy's ear spoke Steve. "Beat it. Make your getaway through +that door. Meet me at Johanson's corral." + +The boy plunged through the doorway into the darkness outside. Toward +the exit after him backed the cowpuncher. Already scattered shots were +being flung in his direction, but the dim light served him well. The +last thing he saw before he vanished through the door was Culvera +groping for his weapon. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +STEVE TELLS TOO MUCH TRUTH + + +Yeager ducked into the night. From the door through which he had just +come bullets spat aimlessly. He crouched as he ran, dodging in zigzag +little rushes. Voices pursued him, fierce and threatening. Men poured +from the gambling-house as seeds are squirted from a squeezed lemon. + +Into a vacant lot behind a store Steve swerved, finding shelter among +some empty drygoods boxes. He was none too soon, for as he sank to +cover, the rush of feet padded down the sidewalk. Stealthily he crept to +the fence, vaulted it lightly, and found a more secure hiding-place in +the lumber yard beyond. From the top of a pile of two by fours he +watched, every sense alert to catch any warning of danger. + +Soon his pursuers returned in little groups to their interrupted games. +Now that the first excitement of the chase was over, few of them wanted +to risk a battle with desperate men in the dark. That was what the +rurales and the rangers were for. + +The cowpuncher slid down cautiously and left the lumber yard by way of +the alley in the rear. He followed a barb-wire fence which bounded a +pasture, and at the next corner crossed the street warily into United +States territory. By alleys and back ways his feet took him to +Johanson's stable. Noiselessly he crept toward it from the rear. Some +one was inside saddling a horse. So much he could gather from the +sounds. Was it Phil? Or was it some one getting ready for the pursuit? +He moved a step nearer. A stick cracked beneath his foot. + +The man saddling the bronco whirled, revolver in hand. "Who is it?" +demanded a tense voice. + +"All right, Phil." Steve moved forward, breathing easier. "Glad you made +it. We'd better light a shuck out of here. They'll stir up the rurales +to get after us, I reckon." + +Already he was busy saddling Four Bits. + +"Do you ... do you think I killed him?" jerked out the boy, a strangled +sob of over-strained emotion in his throat. + +"Don't know. He was asking for it, wasn't he?" answered Yeager in a +matter-of-fact voice. He did not intend by an expression of sympathy to +aid in any breakdown here. That could come later when they had put many +miles between them and Arixico. + +They led their horses out of the stable and swung to the saddles not a +minute too soon. A man came running toward them. + +"Hold on," he called. "Just a moment. I'm the sheriff. They say a man +has been killed." + +The fugitives put spurs to their broncos. The animals jumped to a +canter. Over his shoulder Steve looked back. The sheriff was standing +undecided. Before it penetrated his brain that these were the men he +wanted they were out of range. + +For a time they rode in silence except for the clicking of the hoofs. +Yeager turned, his hand on the rump of his pony. + +"Don't hear anything of them. We've made a clean getaway, looks like. +But they'll keep the wires warm after us--if Mendoza is dead." + +The boy broke down, sobbing. "My God, I couldn't help it. What else +could I do? He was shooting when I fired." + +"Sure he was, but that won't help you if they take you back to Mexico. +My advice is for you to get into a hole and draw it in after you, for a +few days anyhow. Where do you live?" + +"At Los Robles--when I'm at home." + +"Then you _are_ Phil Seymour?" + +"Who told you?" flashed the boy. + +"I board with your mother. I'm a rider for the Lunar Company." + +"Then you know Chad Harrison. Chad will get me out of this. He'll fix +it." + +"How'll he fix it?" demanded Yeager bluntly. "Back there across the line +they're going to call this by an ugly name--if Mendoza cashes in his +checks. Harrison can't fix murder, can he?" + +A film of hard wariness covered the eyes of the boy as he looked across +in the darkness at the other man. "He's got friends," was the dry, +noncommittal answer that came to the range-rider after a moment's +distinct pause. + +Yeager asked no more questions. There had been a "No trespass" sign in +Phil's manner. But as they rode silently toward Los Robles Steve's mind +groped again with the problem of Harrison's relation to those in power +across the border. Was the man tied up with old Pasquale? Or was he an +agent of the Huerta Government? Just now the Federals had control of +this part of the border. Did the boy mean that it was among them that +Harrison had friends? It looked that way, and yet--The cowpuncher could +not get it out of his head that the stolen cattle had been for old +Pasquale. Huerta's lieutenants were too wary to stock their pantry from +the United States in that fashion. + +They rode into Los Robles in the first gray stirrings of dawn, long +before anybody in the little town was afoot. + +"Where are you going to hide? First place they'll look for you will be +at home," suggested Yeager. + +"There's a haystack out in the Lunar pastures. I'll lay low there. Tell +Chad when you see him, and have Ruth fix me up something to eat." + +They parted, each of them to get in what sleep was possible before day. +When Steve was awakened by the sound of some one stirring in the next +room it seemed as though he had been in bed only a few minutes. + +He walked up to the hotel before breakfast and saw Harrison as the actor +was going into the dining-room. The big man stopped in his tracks and +shot out a heavy jaw at him. + +"Thought you was giving our eyes a rest for a while," he growled. + +Yeager declined to exchange compliments with him. "There's a friend of +yours on the haystack in the pasture. He wants to see you soon as it's +convenient." + +The eyes of the pugilist narrowed. "Put a name to him." + +"Phil Seymour." + +"What's he doing here?" demanded Harrison blackly. + +"Perhaps you'd better ask him." Steve turned on his heel and walked back +to his boarding-house. + +His arrival at the breakfast table was greeted with a chorus of +exclamations. What was he doing back so soon? Had he got homesick? Had +he run out of money already? + +He let them worm out of him that he had ridden away and forgotten his +purse and that upon discovering this he had come back for the supplies +of war. They joked him unmercifully, even Daisy,--who was manifestly +incredulous about his explanation,--and he accepted their hilarious +repartee with the proper amount of sheepish resentment. + +After the meal was over he lingered to see Ruth, who had just sat down +to eat. + +"Can I see you alone, Miss Ruth?" + +She flashed a quick look at him, doubtful and apprehensive. "In the +pergola, almost right away." + +The girl reached the vine-draped entrance of the pergola shortly after +Yeager. Manifestly her fears had been growing in the interval since he +had left her. + +"What is it?" And swift on the heels of that, "Is it about Phil?" + +"Yes." + +"He's in trouble ... again?" she breathed. + +He nodded assent. "The boy's out in the pasture. He wants you to send +him breakfast." + +The dread that was always lying banked in the hearts of herself and her +mother found voice. "What has he done now?" + +The range-rider chose his words carefully. "There was some trouble--just +across the border. He had to shoot ... and a man fell." + +Her face mirrored terror. "You mean ... dead?" + +"I don't know," he answered gravely. + +"Tell me all about it, please,--the circumstances, everything." + +"He will tell you himself. I'll just say this--the shooting was forced +on him. He fired in self-defense." + +She wrung her hands. "I knew ... I knew something dreadful would happen. +Mr. Harrison promised me--he said he would look out for Phil." + +Steve looked her straight in the eyes. "Harrison's a crook. He's been +using your love for Phil as a lever. It's up to you and the boy to shake +him off." + +A swift, upblazing anger leaped to her face. "How dare you say that! How +dare you!" + +His blue eyes met her dark, stormy ones quietly and steadily. "I'm +telling you the truth. Can't you see he's been leading Phil into +deviltry? You're afraid of him, afraid of his influence over the boy. +That's why you knuckle down to him." + +"I'm not afraid. He's Phil's friend. You're against him just because +he--he--" + +"Say it, Miss Ruth. Just because he gave me the whaling of my young +life. Nothing to that, nothing a-tall. My system can absorb a licking +without bearing a grudge. But he ain't on the level. 'Course you'll hate +me for saying it, but some one's got to tell you." + +"It's none of your business. I dare say it was you that was with Phil +when he--when he--got into trouble." + +"Yes." + +"I thought so." A sob swelled up in her throat. "You come here and make +trouble. I do hate you if you want to know." + +With that she turned tempestuously and went flying back to the house. + +Steve smiled ruefully. He did not know much about women, but he had read +somewhere that they were capable of injustice. She had plenty of spirit, +anyhow, for all that she looked so demure and shy. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE HEAVY GETS HIS TIME + + +Threewit came to Steve while Cummings was preparing the stage set for a +dissolve. + +"Wish you'd look over this scenario, Yeager. The old man sent it out to +me to see if we can pull off the riding end of it. Scene twenty-seven is +the sticker. Here's the idea: You've been thrown from your horse and +your foot's caught in the stirrup. You draw your gat to shoot the bronch +and it's bumped out of your hand as you're dragged over the rough +ground. See? You save your life by wriggling your foot out of your boot. +Can it be done without taking too many chances?" + +The rider considered. "I reckon it could if a fellow's boot was fixed so +he could slip his foot out at the right time. I'll take a whirl at it." + +"There's another scene where you save Maisie by jumping from your horse +to a wild steer that's pursuing her. You'll have to twist its head and +throw the brute after you straddle it." + +"All right. When you want to pull it off?" + +"We can do the stirrup one to-day, before you go--if you still want to +go." + +"Got an answer yet from Arixico?" + +"Just got it. Mendoza's still alive, but mighty badly hurt. I've sent +the kid out to the animal farm. He'll lie low, and they won't find him +there." + +"I'm still curious about that bunch of cattle we lost. If you can spare +me I'll run down and see if old Pasquale hasn't got 'em. It ain't likely +we'll ever get hide or hair of 'em, but there's one thing I'd like to +find out." + +"Still got that notion about Harrison?" + +"Maybe I have. Maybe I haven't. Anyhow, folks that are blind can't see. +I'll keep my notions in my own fool haid for a while." + +"Harrison has some friends across the line. He's going to try and fix it +for the kid if they run him down." + +"That's fine," commented Yeager dryly. "He sure must have influential +friends." + +"All ready, Mr. Threewit," called out Cummings. + +The director lit a cigar and moved forward to the stage. "Lennox, you're +too far up stage. Register fear, Daisy. That's the idea. Now, then, Miss +Winters. Keep your eyes on Daisy as you come into the room. No--no--no! +That won't do at all." + +Yeager left them to their rehearsal troubles and strolled back to his +boarding-house. He would not be needed till afternoon. + +He spent a half-hour softening the leather of his right boot around the +ankle. A man cannot tumble from a running horse, let himself be dragged +forty yards, and then slip his foot from the stirrup of a cowpony that +has become frightened without taking a big chance. But it was his +business to take chances. He always had taken them. And he knew that +they could be minimized by careful preparation, expertness, and cool +skill of execution. + +As it turned out, Yeager had to make his fall twice. The ground selected +for the set was a bit of level space just at the foot of a hillside. The +rider went down hard on his shoulder at exactly the spot selected, but +he had miscalculated slightly and the force of the fall dragged his foot +from the boot at once. His calculations worked better at the second +attempt. Hanging on by a toe-hold, he was dragged bumping over the rough +ground. His revolver came out on schedule time and flew into the air. +When Farrar gave the word,--which was at the moment the galloping horse +was opposite the camera,--Steve worked his foot free, leaving the boot +still clinging to the stirrup. + +Yeager got to his feet rather unsteadily. The fall had been an unusually +hard one, and it had not helped any to be dragged at full speed over the +bumpy ground. Maisie Winters ran forward and slipped an arm around his +waist to support him. + +"You dandy man! I never did see one so game as you, Steve." + +The cowpuncher grinned. He liked Maisie Winters. There was about her a +boyish, slangy camaraderie that made for popularity. + +"Says the extra to the star, 'Much obliged, ma'am.'" + +"You're no extra. In your own line you're as big a star as we've got. I +know there isn't a rider in the country like you. You're a jim-dandy." + +"He's quite a family pet," contributed Harrison sourly. + +Farrar came forward from the camera, his eyes shining. "Some picture, +I'll bet. Good boy! You pulled it fine, Steve. Didn't he, Threewit?" + +The director nodded. He was wondering how much he would have to raise +this young man's salary to hold him from rival companies. + +"Sho! I just fell out of the saddle, Frank. Most any one can fall off a +horse." + +Harrison laughed spitefully. "I saw him do a better fall than that +oncet." + +Farrar was on the spot. "I saw you do a mighty good one the same day." + +"Don't get fresh, young fella, or you'll do more than see one," snarled +the heavy. + +"Want to beat me up, Chad?" asked Farrar with innocent impudence. "I +weigh one hundred and thirty-one pounds when I'm hog fat. How much do +you weigh?" + +"Cut it out, Frank," ordered Threewit. "I've had about enough of this +jangling. If it isn't stopped, some one's going to lose a job. We're +here to take pictures. Any one who's got any other idea had better call +at the office for his time." + +"Meaning me, Mr. Director?" demanded Harrison menacingly. + +"Meaning you or anybody else that won't keep the rules I set for the +company I run," retorted the director sharply. + +"Forget it, Threewit. I'm no kid. Nobody runs me with rules. I do as I +please." + +"You'll not make trouble in my company." + +"You ain't any little tin god on wheels. Don't run away with that idee +in your bean. I haven't seen any man yet that can lay onto me without +getting his hair curled for him. Me, I play my own hand, by God; and I +don't care whether it's against Mr. Yeager or Mr. Farrar--or Mr. +Threewit. See?" + +"Your pay is waiting for you, Harrison." + +"What? How's that?" he snarled. + +"You're discharged--no longer working for the Lunar Company." + +Harrison's face became an apoplectic purple. He stood with clenched +fists glaring at the director, ready to explode with rage. It was a part +of his vanity that he had not supposed for an instant that Threewit +would let him go. + +But it happened that the director had a temper of his own. He had chafed +long enough under the domineering ways of the ex-prizefighter. Moreover, +Harrison was no longer so essential to the company. Yeager was a far +better rider and could register more effectively the feats of +horsemanship that were a feature of the Lunar films. Billie Threewit had +known for some time that this man was an element of disorganization in +the company. Therefore he was letting him go. + +Steve stood quietly in the background, one arm thrown carelessly across +the neck of his pony. But his gaze did not lift from the heavy, who +stood glaring at the director, his fingers working and head thrust low +on the deep chest so that the gorilla hunch was emphasized. The man's +black eyes snapped with a blazing fire that seemed ready to leap like a +crouched tiger. + +"Through with me, are you? Going to use that grand-stander Yeager +instead, I reckon. That's the game, is it?" + +"I'm not discussing my plans with you." + +"Ain't you? Well, I'll discuss mine to this extent. I'll make you sick +of this day's work all right before I'm through with you. Get that? +Plumb sick." His eyes traveled around the half-circle till they met +those of Yeager. "You'll get yours too, my friend. Believe _me_. Get it +a-plenty. You're going to sweat blood when I git you hog-tied." + +He turned away, flung himself on his horse, and dug the rowels into the +sides of the animal savagely. + +Farrar laughed nervously. "Exit Mr. Chad Harrison, some annoyed." + +Steve looked gravely at his employer. "Sorry you tied that can on him, +Mr. Threewit. He's not just the man I'd choose for an enemy if I was +picking one." + +"Had to do it sometime. The sooner the quicker. Anyhow, he hasn't got it +in for me as much as he has for you." + +Yeager shrugged. "Oh, me. That's different. 'Course he hates me +thorough, but I'm sorry you got mixed in it." + +"What difference does it make? He can't hurt me any." The director +clapped his hands briskly. "All over at the willows for the kid-finding +scene. Got your location picked, Farrar?" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GABRIEL PASQUALE + + +A red-hot cannon ball was flaming high in the heavens when Yeager drew +out of Los Robles at a road gait. The desert winds were whispering +good-night to the sun as he crossed Dry Sandy just above the Sinks. Many +dusty miles in Sonora had been clipped off by Four Bits before the chill +moon rose above the black line of the distant hills and flooded a +transformed land with magical light, touching a parched and arid earth +to a vibrant and mysterious beauty of whispering yucca and fantastic +cactus and weird outline of mesquite. + +Twice he unsaddled the bronco, hobbled it, and lay on his back with his +face to the million stars of night. The first time he gave Four Bits an +hour's rest and grazing. It was midnight when he dismounted at a +water-hole gone almost dry under many summer suns. Here he slept the +heavy, restful sleep of healthy, fatigued youth, arms and legs +sprawling, serene and peaceful, unmoving as a lifeless log. + +With the first faint streaks of dawn that came flooding into the eastern +sky he was afoot, knocking together such breakfast as a rider of the +plains needs. Presently he was once more in the saddle, pushing across +the tawny, empty desert toward the hills that hid Noche Buena, the +village where Pasquale had his headquarters. + +The smell of breakfast and the smoke of it were in the air when he rode +into the street lined with brown adobe huts. The guards paid no +attention to him. Gringos evidently were no unusual sight to the +troopers of the insurgent chief. Most of these were wearing blue denim +suits of overall stuff, though a few were clad in khaki. All carried +bright-colored handkerchiefs around their necks. Serapes, faded and +bright, of all hues and textures, were in evidence everywhere. + +He stopped a boy in riding-boots reaching to his hips, down the sides of +which were conchas of silver dollars. Like most of those in camp the +face upturned to that of Yeager was of a strong Indian cast. + +The American inquired where the general might be found. + +The boy--Steve judged him not over fifteen, and he was to find many +soldiers in camp younger even than this--pointed to a square two-story +house near the center of the town. + +Two sentries were on guard outside. One of these went inside with the +message of Yeager. Presently he returned, relieved the American of his +revolver, and announced that the general would see him. + +Pasquale was at breakfast with one of his lieutenants, a slender young +man with black sleek hair who sat with his back to the door. From the +first moment that his eyes fell upon that lithe, graceful figure the +American knew that presently he would be looking into the face of Ramon +Culvera. A chill shudder passed through him for an instant. If the +gambler recognized him he was lost. + +But as yet Culvera had not taken the trouble to turn. He was eating a +banana indolently and stray Gringos did not greatly interest him. + +"You want to see me, senor," demanded Pasquale in Spanish. + +"I'm out of a job--thought maybe you could give me something to do. I +met Tom Neal. He figured you might." + +"In the army? Do you want to fight?" + +Pasquale leaned back in his chair and looked at his guest from narrowed +eyes that expressed intelligent energy and brutality. He was smiling, +but there was something menacing even about his smile. It struck Steve +that he was as simple, as natural, and about as humane as a wolf. He was +not tall, but there was unusual breadth and depth to his shoulders. +Something of the Indian was in the high cheekbones of his rough, +unshaven, coffee-colored face. The old ruffian looked what he was, a +terrible man, one who could brush out a human life as lightly as he did +the ash from his cigar. + +"I don't know. Perhaps. Can you give me a commission?" + +"Hmp!" The beadlike eyes of the bandit took in shrewdly the competence +of this quiet, brown-faced man. He might be a thief and a +murderer,--very likely was since he had crossed the border to join the +insurgents,--but it was a safe bet that he had the fighting edge. Men of +this particular stripe were needed to lick his tattered, nondescript +recruits into shape. "Where you from? Who knows you?" + +Culvera slewed round in his seat and glanced at the man standing behind +his chair. The indifference did not fade out of his eyes. + +"I've been with the Lunar Film Company. Before that I was riding for the +Lone Star cattle outfit," answered Yeager. + +The younger Mexican showed a flicker of interest. "The Lunar Film +Company? Do you know a man named Harrison, senor?" + +"Yes." + +"And a boy named Pheelip Seymour?" + +"I've just met him. He doesn't work for the company." + +Culvera turned to his chief. "It is this Pheelip that shot Mendoza, he +and another Gringo." + +Pasquale nodded, still watching Yeager. + +"Know any military tactics?" he asked. + +"None--except to hit the other fellow first and hit him hardest." + +"And to hit him when he isn't looking. Those three things are all there +is to know about war--those three, and to keep your men fat." Pasquale's +momentary grin faded. "I'll give you a try-out for a week. If we like +each other we'll talk turkey about a commission. Eh, senor?" + +"Go you one. If we ain't suited we part company at the end of a week." + +The noted insurgent leader spoke English as well as he did Spanish. +Sometimes he talked in one language, sometimes in the other. Now he +relapsed into Spanish and asked Yeager to join them at breakfast. + +The cowpuncher sat down promptly. It had been three hours since he had +eaten lightly and he was as hungry as a Yukon husky. He observed that +Culvera's table manners were nice and particular, whereas those of his +chief, though they ate off silver taken from the home of a Federal +supporter during a raid, were uncouth in the extreme. He wolfed his +food, throwing it into his mouth from knife or fork as rapidly as he +could. + +Glancing up from his steak, Steve observed the brooding eye of Culvera +upon him. Faint suspicions, recollections too vague as yet for +definiteness, were beginning to stir in the mind of the man. He had +taken on the look of wariness, masked by a surface smile, that his face +had worn the night of the shooting. + +Yeager's talk flowed on, easy, careless, unperturbed. His stories were +amusing Pasquale, and the old ruffian had a fondness for anybody that +could entertain him. But back of his debonair gayety Steve nursed a +growing unease. He was no longer dressed in the outfit of a cowpuncher, +but wore a gray street suit and a Panama straw hat. Culvera had caught +only a momentary glance at him the night they had faced each other +revolver in hand. Yet the American was morally convinced that given time +recognition would flash upon the young Mexican. Some gesture or +expression would betray him. Then the fat would be in the fire. And +Steve--where would he be? + +After breakfast Yeager rode out with Pasquale to review the troops. It +was an entirely informal proceeding. The youthful army was happily +engaged in loafing and in play. A bugle blew. There was an instant +scurry for horses. They swung into line, stood at attention, and at a +second blast charged yelling across the plain, serapes flying wild. + +Pasquale turned to Yeager with a gesture of his hand. "They are mine, +body and soul. They eat, sleep, starve, and die at my word. Is it not +so?" + +The charging line had wheeled and was coming back like the distant roll +of thunder. "Viva Pasquale!" they shouted as they galloped. Steve had a +momentary qualm lest they charge over him and their chief, but the tough +little horses were dragged to a halt five yards from them in a great +cloud of dust. Bullets zipped into the air in their wild enthusiasm. +Wild whoops and cheers increased the tumult. + +"Looks that way," agreed the American. + +Returning to the village, Steve observed a bunch of cattle a hundred +yards from the trail. A Mexican lad, half asleep, was herding them. +Immediately a devouring curiosity took hold of the cowpuncher. He wanted +to see the brand on those cattle. It struck him that the shortest way +was the quickest. He borrowed the field-glasses of Pasquale. + +As he lowered the glasses after looking through them, Yeager laughed. +"Funny how things come out. In this country cattle are like chips in a +poker game. They ain't got any home, I reckon." + +"Meaning, senor?" suggested the insurgent chief. + +"Meaning that less than a week ago I paid a perfectly good check of the +Lunar Company for that bunch of steers. We did aim to use them in some +roundup sets, but I expect you've got another use for them." + +"Si, senor." + +"Hope Harrison held you up for a good price," suggested the American +casually. + +Pasquale showed his teeth in a grin. "He was some anxious to unload in a +hurry--had to take the market he could find handy." + +"Looks like he was afraid the goods might spoil on his hands," Steve +commented dryly. + +"Maybeso. I didn't ask any questions and he didn't offer any +explanations. Fifteen gold on the hoof was what I agreed to pay. Were +you in on this with Harrison?" + +"I was and I wasn't. Me, I drove that bunch 'most forty miles, then he +held me up and took the whole outfit from me." + +Pasquale saw he had made a mistake and promptly lied. "It wasn't +Harrison I got them from at all--just wanted to see what you'd say." + +"Well, they didn't cost me a red cent. You're welcome to 'em as far as +I'm concerned. Slow elk suits me fine. I'll help you eat them while I'm +here, and that will be a week anyhow." + +"You're a good sport, Yeager, as you Gringos say. We'll get along like +brothers. Not so?" + +The revolutionary chief was an incessant card-player. He had a greasy +pack out as soon as they reached camp. Steve was invited to take a hand, +also Ramon Culvera and a fat, bald-headed Mexican of fifty named +Ochampa. Culvera, playing in luck, won largely from his chief, who +accepted his run of ill fortune grouchily. Pasquale had been a peon in +his youth, an outlaw for twenty years, and a czar for three. He was as +much the subject of his own unbridled passions as is a spoiled and +tyrannous child. Yeager, studying him, was careful to lose money with a +laugh to the old despot and equally careful to see that the chips came +back to him from Ochampa's side of the table. + +The cowpuncher knew fairly well the political rumors that were afloat in +regard to the situation in northern Mexico. Pasquale as yet was dictator +of the revolutionary forces, but there had been talk to the effect that +Ramon Culvera was only biding his time. Other ambitious men had aspired +to supplant Pasquale. They had died sudden, violent deaths. Ramon had +been a great favorite of the dictator, but it was claimed signs were not +lacking to show that a rupture between them was near. Watching them now, +Yeager could well believe that this might be true. Culvera was suave, +adroit, deferential as he raked in his chief's gold, but the +irritability of the older man needed only an excuse to blaze. + +A blue-denim trooper came into the room and stood at attention. + +Pasquale nodded curtly. + +"Senor Harrison to see the general," said the private in Spanish. + +A chill ran down the spine of the American. This was the last place in +the world that he wanted to meet Chad Harrison. A swift vision of +himself standing with his back to a wall before a firing line flashed +into his brain. + +But he was in for it now. He knew that the ex-prizefighter would +denounce him. A daredevil spirit of recklessness flooded up in his +heart. A smile both gay and sardonic danced in his eyes. Thus does +untimely mirth in the hour of danger drive away a sober, prayerful +gravity from the mien of such light-hearted sons of nature as Stephen +Yeager. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A NIGHT VISIT + + +Harrison stood blinking in the doorway, having just come out from the +untempered sunlight in the street. He shook hands with the general, with +Culvera, and then his glance fell upon the American. + +"Fine glad day, ain't it?" Yeager opened gayly. "Great the way friends +meet in this little old world." + +"What are you doing here?" demanded the prizefighter, his chin jutting +forward and down. + +"Me! I'm losing my wad at stud. Want to stake me?" + +Harrison turned to Pasquale. "Know who he is? Know anything about him, +general?" + +"Only what he has told me, senor." + +"And that is?" + +"That he worked for the moving-picture company at Los Robles, that he is +out of a job, and that he wants to try the revolutionary game, as you +Americans say." + +"Don't you believe it. Don't believe a word of it," broke out Harrison +stormily. "He's a spy. That's what he is." + +Smiling, Steve cut in. "What have I come to spy about, Harrison?" + +"You told Threewit that you thought General Pasquale had those cattle. +You may deny it, but--" + +"Why _should_ I deny it?" Yeager turned genially to the insurgent chief. +"_You_ don't deny it, do you, general?" + +Pasquale laughed. He liked the cheek of this young man. "I deny nothing +and I admit nothing." He swept his hand around in a gesture of +indifference. "My vaqueros herd cattle I have bought. Possibly rustlers +sold them to me. Maybeso. I ask no questions." + +"Nor I," added Yeager promptly. "At least, not many. I eat the beef and +find it good. You ought to have got a good price for a nice fat bunch +like that, Harrison." + +"What d'you mean by that?" The man's fists were clenched. The rage was +mounting in him. + +"Forget it, Harrison! You've quit the company. You're across the line +and among friends. No use keeping up the bluff. I know who held me up. +If I'm not hos-tile about it, you don't need to be." + +The prizefighter flung at him the word of insult that no man in the +fighting West brooks. Before Steve could speak or move, Pasquale +hammered the table with his heavy, hairy fist. + +"Maldito!" he roared. "Is it so you talk to my friends in my own house, +Senor Harrison?" + +The rustler, furious, turned on him. But even in his rage he knew better +than to let his passion go. The insurgent chief was more dangerous than +dynamite in a fire. Purple with anger, Harrison choked back the volcanic +eruption. + +"Friend! I tell you he's a spy, general. This man killed Mendoza. He's +here to sell you out." + +The sleek black head of Culvera swung quickly round till his black eyes +met the blue ones of Yeager. He flung his hand straight out toward the +Anglo-Saxon. + +"Mil diablos! What a dolt I am. It's the very man, and I've been racking +my brain to think where I met him before." + +Yeager laughed hardily. "I've got a better memory, senor. Knew you the +moment I set eyes on you, though it was some smoky when we last met." + +Culvera rose, his knuckles pressing against the table. There was a faint +smile of triumph, on his masked, immobile face. + +"Farewell, Senor Yeager," he said softly. "After all, it's a world full +of hardship and unpleasantness. You're well rid of it." + +Steve knew his sole appeal lay in Pasquale. Ochampo was a nonentity. +Both Harrison and Culvera had already condemned him to death. He turned +quietly to the insurgent leader. + +"How about it, general? Do I get a pass to Kingdom Come--because I stood +by a half-grown kid when two blacklegs were robbing him?" + +"You shot Mendoza, eh?" demanded Pasquale, his heavy brows knit in a +frown. + +"No; I helped the boy escape who did." + +"You were both employed by the enemy to murder him and Culvera--not so?" + +"Nothing of the sort. Young Seymour was in a poker game with Culvera and +Mendoza. They were cross-lifting him--and playing with a cold deck at +that. I warned the kid. They began shooting. I could have killed either +of them, but I blew out the lights instead. In self-defense the boy shot +Mendoza. We escaped through the door. The trouble was none of our +seeking." + +Culvera shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands in a gesture of +bland denial. "Lies! All lies, general. Have I not already told you the +truth?" + +Coldly Pasquale pronounced judgment. "What matter which one shot +Mendoza. Both were firing. Both escaped together. Both are equally +guilty." He clapped his hands. A trooper entered. "'Tonio, get a guard +and take this man to prison. See that he is kept safe. To-morrow at dawn +he will be shot." + +The trooper withdrew. Pasquale continued evenly. "We have one rule, +Senor Yeager. He who kills one of us is our enemy. If we capture him, +that man dies. Fate has shaken the dice and they fall against you. So be +it. You pay forfeit." + +Yeager nodded. He wasted no breath in useless protest against the +decision of this man of iron. What must be, must. A plea for mercy or +for a reversal of judgment would be mere weakness. + +"If that's the way you play the game there's no use hollering. I'll take +my medicine, because I must. But I'll just take one little flyer of a +guess at the future, general. If you don't put friend Culvera out of +business, it will presently be, 'Good-night, Pasquale.' He's a right +anxious and ambitious little lieutenant, I shouldn't wonder." + +Harrison triumphed openly. He followed out of the house the file of +soldiers who took his enemy away. + +"Told you I'd git even a-plenty, didn't I?" he jeered. "Told you I'd +make you sweat blood, Mister Yeager. Good enough. You'll see me in a box +right off the stage to-morrow morning when the execution set is pulled +off. Adios, my friend!" + +The cowpuncher was thrust into a one-room, flat-roofed adobe hut. The +door was locked and a guard set outside. The prison had for furniture a +three-legged stool and a rough, home-made table. In one corner lay a +couple of blankets upon some straw to serve for a bed. The walls of the +house, probably a hundred years old at least, were of plain, unplastered +adobe. The fireplace was large, but one glance up the narrow chimney +proved the futility of any hope of escape in that direction. + +He was caught, like a rat in a trap. Yet somehow he did not feel as if +it could be true that he was to be taken out at daybreak and shot. It +must be some ridiculous joke Fate was playing on him. Something would +turn up yet to save him. + +But as the hours wore away the grim reality of his position came nearer +home to him. He had only a few hours left. From his pocket he took a +notebook and a pencil. It was possible that Pasquale would let him send +a letter through to Threewit if it gave some natural explanation of his +death, one that would relieve him of any responsibility. Steve tore out +a page and wrote, standing under the little shaft of moonlight that +poured through the small barred window:-- + + Fifteen minutes ago [so he wrote] I accidentally shot myself while + target-practicing here in camp. They say I won't live more than a + few hours. By the courtesy of General Pasquale I am getting a + letter through to you, which is to be sent after my death. Give + bearer ten dollars in gold. + + Say good-bye for me to Frank, Daisy, and the rest. _Bust up that + marriage if you can_. + + Adios, my friend. + STEVE YEAGER. + +He was searching in his pocket for an envelope when there came a sound +that held him rigid. Some one was very carefully unlocking the door of +his prison from the outside. Stealthily he drew back into the deep +shadow at the farther end of the room, picking up noiselessly by one leg +the stool by the table. It was possible that some one had been sent to +murder him. + +The grinding of the key ceased. Slowly the door opened inch by inch. A +man's head was thrust through the opening. After a long time of silence +a figure followed the head and the door was closed again. + +"You may put down that weapon, Senor Yeager. I have not come to knife +you." + +The lower half of the man's face was covered by a fold of his serape, +the upper part was shaded by his sombrero. Only the glittering eyes +could be plainly seen. + +"Why have you come?" + +"To talk with you--perhaps to save you. Quien sabe?" + +Yeager put down the stool and gave it a shove across the floor. "Will +you take a seat, general? Sorry I can't offer you refreshments, but the +truth is I'm not exactly master in my own house." + +Pasquale dropped the serape from his face and moved forward. "So you +knew me?" + +"Yes." + +"How much will you give for your life?" demanded the Mexican abruptly, +sitting down on the stool with his back to the table. + +"As much as any man." + +The general eyed him narrowly. One sinewy brown hand caressed the butt +of a revolver hanging at his hip. + +"Who paid you to murder Culvera and Mendoza--not Farrugia, surely?" +Pasquale shot at him, eyes gleaming under shaggy brows. + +Garcia Farrugia was the Federal governor of the province, the general +with whom Pasquale had been fighting for a year. + +"No--not Farrugia." + +The insurrecto chief, sprawling in the moonlight with his back against +the table, nodded decisively. + +"I thought as much. He's no fool. Garcia knows it would not weaken me +to lose both of them, that my grief would not be inconsolable. Who, +then, if not Farrugia?" + +"Nobody. I'm not an assassin. The story I told you is the truth, +general." + +"If that is true, Ramon Culvera's lies have brought you to your death." + +The Mexican still sprawled with an arm flung across the table. Not a +muscle of his lax body had grown more taut. But the eyes of the man--the +terrible eyes that condemned men to their graves without a flicker of +ruth--were fixed on the range-rider with a steady compulsion filled with +hidden significance. + +"Yes." Steve waited, alert and watchful. Presently he would understand +what this grim, virile old scoundrel was driving at. + +"You fought him in the open. You played your cards above the table. He +comes back at you with a cold deck. Senor, do you love Ramon like a +brother?" + +"Of course not. If I could get at him before--" + +The rigor of the black eyes boring into those of Yeager did not relax. +The impact of them was like steel grinding on steel. + +"Yes? If you could get at him? What, then, senor?" + +The words were hissed across the room at the American. Pasquale was no +longer lounging. He leaned forward, body tense and rigid. His prisoner +understood that an offer for his life was being made him. But what kind +of an offer? Just what was he to do? + +"Say it right out in plain United States talk, general. What is it you +want me to do?" + +"Would you kill Ramon Culvera--to save your own life?" + +After barely an instant's hesitation Steve answered. "Yep. I'll fight +him to a finish--any time, any place." + +"Bueno! But there will be no risk for you. He will be summoned from his +house to-night. You will stand in the darkness outside. One thrust of +the knife and--you will be avenged. A saddled horse is waiting for you +now in the cottonwood grove opposite. Before we get the pursuit started +you will be lost in the darkness miles away." + +The heart of Yeager sank. The thing he was being asked to do was plain +murder. Even to save his own life he could not set his hand to such a +contract. + +"I can't do that, general. But I'll pick a quarrel with him. I'll take a +chance on even terms." + +"No--no!" Pasquale's voice was harsh and imperative. "The dog is +plotting my murder. But first he wants to make sure he is strong enough +to succeed me. So he waits. But I--Gabriel Pasquale--I wait for no +man's knife. I strike first--and sure. You execute the traitor and save +your own life which is forfeit. Caramba! Are you afraid?" + +"Not afraid, but--" + +"You walk out of that door a free man. You give the password for +to-night. It is 'Gabriel.' You settle with the traitor and then ride +away to safety. Maldito! Why hesitate?" + +"Because I'm a white man, general. We don't kill in the dark and run +away. When I offer to fight him to a finish I go the limit--and then +some. For I don't hate Culvera that bad. But I think a heap of Steve +Yeager's life, so I'll stand pat on my proposition." + +"Am I a fool, senor?" asked the Mexican harshly. "How do I know you +would keep faith, that you would not ride away--what you call laugh in +your sleeve at me? No! You will strike under my own eye--with my +revolver at your heart. Then I make sure." + +"I'll bet you'd make sure. You'd shoot me down and explain it all fine +when your men came running. 'The Gringo dog escaped and killed my dear +friend Ramon, but by good luck I shot him before he made his getaway.' +Nothing doing." + +"Then you refuse?" Pasquale's narrowed eyes glittered in the moonshine. + +"You're right I do." + +The Mexican rose. "Die like a dog, then, you pigheaded Gringo." + +"Just a moment, general. I've got a letter here I wish you'd send north +for me. It explains that I shot myself accidentally--lets you out fine +in case Uncle Sam begins to ask inconvenient whys about my +disappearance." + +"And why so much care to save me trouble?" inquired the insurgent leader +suspiciously. + +"I have to put that in to get you to forward the letter, I reckon. What +I want is that my friends should know I'm dead." + +As a soldier Pasquale could understand that desire. He hesitated. The +sudden death of Americans had of late stirred a good deal of resentment +across the line. Why not take the alibi Yeager so conveniently offered +him? + +"Let's see your letter. But remember I promise nothing," said the +Mexican roughly. + +Steve moved forward and gave it to him. His heart was pounding against +his ribs as does that of a frightened rabbit in the hand. If Pasquale +looked at the letter now he had a chance. If he put it in his pocket the +chance vanished. + +The rebel chief glanced at the sheet of paper, opened it, and stepped +back into the moonlight. For just an instant his eyes left Yeager and +fell upon the paper. That moment belonged to Steve. Like a tiger he +leaped for the hairy throat of the man. + +Pasquale, with a half-articulate cry, stumbled back. But the American +was on top of him, his strong, brown fingers were tightening on the +sinewy throat. They went down together, the Mexican underneath. As he +fell, the head of the general struck the edge of the table. The steel +grip of Steve's hand did not relax, for a single sharp cry would mean +death to him. + +Just once Pasquale rolled half over before his body went slack and +motionless. He had fainted. + +The first thing Yeager did was to take the bandanna handkerchief from +his neck and use it as a gag for his prisoner. He dragged the blankets +from their corner and tore one of them into strips. With these he bound +the hands of Pasquale behind him and tied his feet together. He +unloosened the revolver belt of the Mexican and strapped it about his +own waist. The silver-trimmed sombrero he put on his head and the serape +he flung round his shoulders and across the lower part of his face in +the same way the garment had been worn by its owner. + +Steve glanced around to see that he had everything he needed. + +"They's no manner o' doubt but you're taking a big chancet, son," he +drawled to himself after the manner of an old range-rider he knew. "But +we sure gotta take a long shot and gamble with the lid off. Any man who +stops S. Yeager to-night is liable to find him a bad hombre. So-long, +general." + +He opened the door and stepped out. His heart was jumping queerly. The +impulse was on him to cut across to the cottonwood grove on the dead +run, but he knew this would never do. Instead, he sauntered easily into +the moonlight with the negligence of one who has all night before his +casual steps. + +The sharp command of the guard outside slackened his stride. + +"Gabriel," he called back over his shoulder without stopping. + +"Si, senor. Buenos tardes." + +"Buenos." + +He moved at a leisurely pace down the street until he was opposite the +cottonwoods. Here he diverged from the dusty road. + +"Hope the old scalawag wasn't lying about that cavallo waiting for +Steve. I'm plumb scairt to death till I get out of this here wolf's den. +Me, I'm too tender to monkey with any revolutions. I've knowed it happen +frequent that a man got his roof blowed off for buttin' in where he +wasn't invited." He was still impersonating the old cowman as a vent to +his excitement, which found no expression in the cool, deliberate +motions of his lithe body. + +He found the horse in the cottonwoods as Pasquale had promised. Swinging +to the saddle, he cantered down the road to the outskirts of the +village. A sentinel stopped him, and a second time he gave the +countersign. He was just moving forward again when some one emerged from +the darkness back of the sentry and sharply called to him to stop. + +Steve knew that voice, would have known it among a thousand. Since he +had no desire at this moment to hold a conversation with Ramon Culvera +he drove his heels into the side of the cow pony. The horse leaped +forward just as a revolver rang out. So close did the shot come to +Yeager that it lifted the sombrero from his head as he dodged. + +After he was out of range Yeager laughed. "Pasquale gets his hat back +again--ventilated. Oh, well, it's bad enough to be a horse-thief without +burglarizing a man's haberdashery. You're sure welcome to it, Gabriel." + +He kept the horse at a gallop, for he knew he would be pursued. But his +heart was lifted in him, for he was leaving behind him a shameful death. +All Sonora lay before him in which to hide, and in front of him +stretched a distant line beyond which was the U.S.A. and safety. + +The bench upon which he was riding dropped to a long roll of hills +stretching to the horizon. The chances were a hundred to one that among +these he would be securely hidden from the pursuit inside of an hour. + +"Git down in yore collar to it, you buckskin," he urged his pony +cheerfully. "This ain't no time to dream. You got to travel some, +believe me. Steve played a bum hand for all it was worth and I can see +where he's right to hit the grit some lively. Burn the wind, you +buzzard-haid." + +An hour later he drew his pony to a road gait and lifted his head to the +first faint flush of a dawning day. He sang softly, because by a miracle +of good fortune that coming sun brought him life and not death. The song +he caroled was, "When Gabriel blows his horn in the mawnin'." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CHAD DECIDES TO GET BUSY + + +After his failure to stop Yeager's escape, Culvera lost no time before +starting a party in pursuit. He knew there was small chance of finding +the American in that rolling sea of hills, but there was at least no +harm in making the attempt. + +As he walked to Pasquale's headquarters to make a report of the affair, +Culvera's mind was full of vague suspicions. How had this man escaped? +Had the old general freed him for some purpose of his own? Ramon had +seen condemned prisoners released by his chief before. Always within a +short time some enemy or doubtful friend of Pasquale had died a violent +death. Was it his turn now? Could it be that Pasquale was anticipating +his treachery? + +To learn that the general was out at three o'clock in the morning lent +no reassurance to his fears. After a moment's consideration the young +man turned his steps toward the house where Yeager had been confined. +But before starting he stopped in the shadow of a barn to see that his +revolvers were loose in the scabbards and in good working order. Nor did +he cross the moonlit open direct, but worked to his destination by a +series of tacks that kept him almost all the time in the darkness. + +The seventeen-year-old sentry was still doing duty outside the prison. +At sight of Culvera he stopped rolling a cigarette to snatch up his +rifle and fling a challenge at him. + +"How is it that you have let your prisoner escape?" demanded the officer +in Spanish after he had given the countersign. + +"Escape? No, senor. Listen. Do you not hear him move?" replied in the +boy in the same tongue. "I think the Gringo is having a fit. For +ten--twenty--minutes he has beat on the floor and kicked at the walls. +To die at daybreak is not to his liking." + +"Mil diablos! I tell you I saw him ride away. It is some one else in +there." + +"Some one else! But, no--that is impossible. Who else could it be?" As +he asked the question the boy's jaw fell slack. A horrible suspicion +pushed itself into his mind. + +"Estupido!" he continued in growing terror. "Can it be--the general?" + +"We shall see." + +Culvera stepped to the door. It was locked and the key gone. He called +aloud. His only answer was a strange, muffled sound like a groan and the +beating of feet upon the floor. + +With the butt of the sentry's rifle he hammered in the door at the lock +and by exerting all his strength forced the fastening. Lying in the +middle of the room, bound hand and foot, with his furious face upturned +to the moonlight, was Gabriel Pasquale. Culvera asked no foolish +questions, wasted no time. Kneeling beside his superior officer, he cut +the handkerchief that gagged him and the ropes that tied his limbs. +Together Ramon and the guard lifted him to his feet and held him for a +moment until his legs regained their power. + +"What devil has done this outrage?" asked Ramon. + +For a time Pasquale could only swallow and grunt. When the power of +speech returned, he broke into fierce and terrible maledictions. His +lieutenant listened in silence, extreme concern in his respectful face, +an unholy amusement bubbling up behind the deferential exterior. + +"Then it was the Gringo?" he asked when his chief ran out of breath and +for the moment ceased cursing. + +The insurgent leader went off into another explosion of rage. He would +cut his heart out while the American devil was still alive. He would +stake him out on the desert to broil to death beneath a Mexican sun. + +Culvera showed the hat that he had punctured with his bullet. "Thus near +I came to avenging you, general. See! One inch lower and I would have +taken off the top of his head. Already Fuentes is pursuing him. Perhaps +this Yeager may be dragged back to justice." + +Culvera asked no questions as to why the general was alone with a +condemned man at such an hour nor as to how the American had succeeded +in overpowering him. He understood that his chief's wounded vanity was +torturing the man enough to render curiosity unsafe. But the boyish +sentry did not know this. He ventured on a sympathetic question. + +"But, senor, Your Excellency, how did this Gringo devil, who was +unarmed, take away your revolver and tie you?" + +Pasquale, teeth clenched, whirled upon him. "You--dog of a peon--let +your prisoner walk away without a challenge and then dare to question +_me_!" + +The old soldier's fist shot out like a pile-driver. The blow lifted the +boy from his feet and flung him like a sack of meal against the wall. +His body hung there a moment, then dropped to the ground. A faint groan +was the only sound that showed he was not unconscious. + +The general strode from the room, Culvera at his heels. The brown mask +of his face told no stories of how the younger man was enjoying +himself. + +Before he slept, Ramon had one more pleasant task before him. He roused +Harrison to tell him the news. He sat smiling on the foot of the bed, +his eyes mocking the startled face of the prizefighter. + +"I come to bring you good news, senor," he jeered. "Your countryman has +escaped." + +Harrison sat up in bed. "What's that? Escaped, did you say? Where to?" + +The Mexican swept one arm around airily. "How should I know? He's +gone--broke out. He's taken a horse with him." + +"A horse!" repeated Harrison stupidly. + +"Just so--a horse. To ride upon, doubtless, since he was in somewhat of +a hurry. Odd that a horse happened to be waiting saddled for him at two +in the morning. Not so?" + +The American groped toward the point. "You mean--that he had friends, +that some one helped him to get away?" + +The other man shrugged his shoulders. "Do I? Quien sabe? Anyhow, he's +gone. Must be very disappointing to you, since you had promised yourself +to see his translation to heaven at sunrise." + +Harrison expressed himself bitterly in language emphatic and profane. + +Meanwhile Culvera smiled pleasantly and sympathetically. "You run +Pasquale a close second. He cursed the roof off when he found breath." + +"I'm not through with Yeager yet. Believe _me_, he'll have one +heluvatime before I'm done," boasted the prizefighter savagely. + +"You're still in entire accord with the chief. Yet our friend the Gringo +rides away in safety and laughs at you both. Ramon Culvera takes his hat +off to Senor Yeager. He has played a winning game with courage and +brains." + +"I beat his fool head off when he joined the Lunar Company--the very day +he joined. When I meet up with him again, I'll repeat," Harrison +bragged, hammering the pillow with his clenched fist. + +The Mexican looked politely incredulous. "Maybeso. This I say only. +Yeager has played one game with Pasquale, one with you, and one with me. +He comes out best each time. Of a sureness he is a strong man, wise, +cool, resourceful. Is it not so?" + +The prizefighter sputtered with wounded vanity. "Him! The boob's nothing +but a lucky guy. You'd ought to 'a' seen him after I fixed his map that +first day. Down and out he was, take my word for it." + +"If Senor Harrison says so," assented Culvera with polite mockery. "But +as you say, he laughs best who laughs last. And that reminds me. He +left a note to be forwarded a friend. Pasquale was too crazy mad to see +it, so I put it in my pocket." + +He handed to the other man the note Steve had written for Threewit. The +prizefighter read it in the dim light laboriously. + +"It was written, you perceive, before Pasquale shoved his big head into +a trap and gave him a chance to escape," explained the insurgent +officer. + +As Harrison read, certain phases of the situation arranged themselves +before his dull mind. He was acutely disappointed at the escape of his +enemy, since it was not likely the man would ever be caught again so +neatly. But now he forced himself to look beyond this to the +consequences. Yeager would tell all he knew when he reached Los Robles. +With the troopers warned against him Harrison knew he could no longer +move to and fro as freely on the American side. The very fact that he +was a suspect would greatly hamper his dealings. The Seymours would +probably turn against him for betraying the man who had risked his life +to save Phil from the effects of his folly. And what about Ruth? He knew +he held her by fear of trouble to Phil and by means of a sort of +magnetic clamp he had always imposed upon her will. Would she throw him +over now after she heard the story of the cowpuncher? + +His eyes were still fastened sulkily on the note while he was slowly +realizing these things. One line seemed to stand out from the rest. + +_Bust up that marriage if you can._ + +Harrison ground his teeth with impotent rage. This range-rider always +had interfered with his affairs from the first moment he had met him. If +ever he got the chance again to stamp him out--! The strong fingers of +the man worked with the nervous longing to tighten on the throat of the +gay youth who had worsted him in the duel the prizefighter had forced +upon him. The cowpuncher had introduced himself by knocking him down. A +few hours later he had turned a bruised and bleeding face up to him and +laughed without fear as if it were of no consequence. + +Yeager had stolen from him his reputation as a daring rider and a good +shot. He had driven him from the Lunar Company. Now he was going back to +spoil his plans for making money by rustling American stock and sending +contraband goods across the line. Not only that; he was going to take +from him the girl he was engaged to marry. + +"By God! I'll give him a run for it," the prizefighter announced +savagely and suddenly. + +"For what?" asked Culvera maliciously. + +"My business," retorted Harrison harshly, reaching for his clothes. + +Half an hour later he was galloping toward the north. If he could reach +Los Robles before Yeager did, he would turn a trick that would still +leave the odds in his favor. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +INTO THE DESERT + + +Ruth was baking apple pies in the kitchen. In her eyes there was a smile +and there were little dimples near the corners of her mouth. Evidently +she was thinking of something pleasant. Her nimble fingers ran around +the edge of the upper crust with a fork and scalloped a design. At odd +moments she would burst into a little rhapsody of song that appeared to +bubble out of her heart. + +Some one stepped into the doorway and shut out the sunlight. Her +questioning glance lifted, to meet the heavy frown of the man to whom +she was engaged. At sight of him the sunshine was extinguished from her +face, just as it had seemed to be from the room when his broad shoulders +had filled the opening. + +"You--Chad!" she cried. "I thought--" + +"Well, I ain't. I'm here," he broke in roughly. "And you don't look glad +to death to see me either." + +Her gentle eyes reproached him. "You're always welcome. You know that." + +His harsh face softened a little as he stepped forward and kissed her. +"Maybe I do, but maybe I like to hear you say so. Girl, I've come to +take you with me." + +"With you? Where?" Alarm was in the eyes that flashed to meet his. + +"To Noche Buena." + +"But--what for?" + +"Ain't it reason enough that I want you to go? We can get married at +Arixico to-night." + +She broke into protest disjointed and a little incoherent. "You promised +me that--that I could have all the time I wanted. You said--you said--" + +"That was when I was here to look after you. But I'll be staying in +Sonora quite a while the way my business affairs look. I need you--and +what's the sense of waiting, anyhow?" + +"No--no! I don't want to--not now. Please don't ask it, Chad, I--I don't +want to get married--yet." + +Sobs began to choke up her voice. Tears welled up in her eyes. + +"I don't see why you don't," he insisted sullenly. "Ain't trying to back +out, are you?" + +"No, but--" + +"You better not," he retorted with a threatening look. "I ain't the kind +of man it's safe to jilt." + +"You promised me all the time I wanted," she repeated. "You wouldn't +hurry me. That was what you said," she sobbed, breaking down suddenly. + +"All right," he conceded ungraciously. "I'm not forcing you to marry me +now. But I thought it best, seeing as I've got to ask you to go with me, +anyhow. O' course I can put you in charge of Carmen to chaperon you. +She's the woman that keeps house for Pasquale. But it kinder seemed to +me it would be better if you went as my wife. Then I could take care of +you." + +"Go with you--now? What do you mean, Chad?" + +"It's this fellow Yeager. He's shot himself, and he wants to see you +before he dies." From his pocket he took the note Steve had written to +Threewit and handed it to Ruth. "You don't have to go, but I hate to +turn down a fellow when he's all in and ready to quit the game." + +She read the note, her face like chalk. Not for a moment did she doubt +that the cowpuncher had written it. Even if her mind had harbored any +vague suspicions one line in the letter would have swept them away. +_Bust up that marriage if you can._ She knew to what marriage he +referred. Nobody but Yeager could have written those words. + +"But he says--he says"--her voice shook, but she forced herself to go +on--"that this letter isn't to be sent until his death." + +"Yep. So it does. But he got to asking for you. So I just lit out to +give you a chance to go if you want to. It's up to you. Do just as you +please." + +"Of course I'll go. Is he--is he as bad as he says?" + +"Pretty bad, the doc says. But I reckon he's good for a day or two. My +advice would be to start right away, though, if you want to see him +alive." + +"Yes. That would be best. I'll see mother now." She stopped at the door +and leaned against the jamb a little faintly, then turned toward him. +"It was fine of you to come, Chad. I know you don't like him. But--I +won't forget." + +"Oh, tha's all right," he mumbled. + +"Have you seen Mr. Threewit yet?" she asked. + +"Threewit--no." He was for a moment puzzled at her question. "No--he's +out getting a set somewheres in the hills." + +Ruth came back and took the note from Harrison's reluctant fingers. "He +ought to get this at once. I'll send Billie Brown out with it. He'll +explain to Mr. Threewit about us going on ahead and not waiting for +him." + +The prizefighter did not quite like the idea. He would rather have kept +the note himself and burnt it later. But it was out of his charge now. +Without stirring doubts he could not make any objection. Anyhow, he +would be in Sonora and safely married to Ruth long before the deception +was discovered. + +Mrs. Seymour made her protest against such an unconventional trip, but +Ruth rode her objections down after the fashion of American girls. + +"Why can't I go for a ride with the man to whom I'm engaged? What's +wrong with it? I'll stay with the lady that keeps house for General +Pasquale. In two or three days I'll be back. Don't say no, mommsie." +Her voice broke a little as she pleaded the cause. "He's dying--Mr. +Yeager is--and he wants to see me. I'd always blame myself if I didn't +go. I've just got to go." + +"I don't see why you have to go riding all over the country to see one +man when you're engaged to another. In my time--" + +"If Chad doesn't object, why should you?" + +"Oh, I know you'll go. I suppose it's all right, but I wish Phil could +go with you too." + +"So do I, but of course he can't. Chad says that affairs are so +disturbed across the line that probably the Government won't make Phil +any trouble, but that if he showed himself in Sonora some of the friends +of that man Mendoza would be sure to kill him." + +"I suppose so." Mrs. Seymour sighed. Her harum-scarum young son was on +her mind a good deal. "Now, don't you fret, honey, about Steve Yeager. +He's the kind of man that will take a lot of killing. A man who has +lived outdoors in the saddle for a dozen years is liable to get over a +wound that would finish some one else." + +In his haste to reach Los Robles before Yeager the prizefighter had +ruined the horse he rode. He picked up another one cheap and got for +Ruth her brother's pony. Within an hour of his arrival the two animals +were brought round for the start. + +The mother, still a little troubled in her mind, took Harrison aside for +a last word. + +"Chad Harrison, you look after my little girl and see no harm comes to +her. If anything happens to her I'll never forgive you." + +"Rest easy about that, Mrs. Seymour. You don't think any more of Ruth +than I do. If I thought there was any danger I sure wouldn't take her. +She'll come back to you safe and sound," he promised. + +They rode away in the afternoon sunlight toward the south. It had been +understood that they were to spend the night at the Lazy B Ranch, but at +the point where the road for the ranch deflected from the main pike +Harrison drew rein. + +"Too bad there isn't another ranch farther on. It's a little better than +six o'clock now. We'll lose a heap of time by stopping here. Soon the +moon will be out and we could keep going till we reach Lone Tree Spring. +Stopping there for two or three hours' rest, we could ride in to Noche +Buena by breakfast time. But I reckon you're tired, ain't you?" + +"I'm not--not a bit," she answered eagerly. "Let's go on. It's cooler +traveling in the evening, anyhow." + +He appeared to hesitate, then shook his head. "No--o, I expect that +wouldn't be proper. If you was a boy instead of a girl I'd say sure." + +"Don't let's be silly, Chad," she pleaded. "We want to get there as soon +as we can. It makes no difference if I am a girl." + +"I promised your maw I'd take good care of you. Would it be doing that +to let you stay up 'most all night?" + +"Of course it would. We can sleep some at Lone Tree. I want to go on, +Chad." + +"All right," he conceded with a manner of reluctance. + +This was what Harrison desired. If Yeager reached Los Robles before +night a search party would be sent out. It would go straight toward the +Lazy B. Chad wanted to get across the line and put as many miles as +possible between him and the pursuit. + +Deep into the desert they struck, keeping for the most part to a rapid +road gait. The dusty miles spun out behind them as they covered white +sunbaked levels, cut across rough hillsides of rubble, dipped into sandy +washes, and wound forward through wastes of cactus and zacaton. + +By the time the moon was riding high in the heavens Ruth was very tired. +Her shoulders drooped and she clung to the pommel of the saddle. But she +did not ask Chad to stop and let her rest. She would rather have been +whipped than have confessed exhaustion. Whenever she thought he might be +looking at her, the weary shoulders straightened with a pathetic attempt +at jauntiness. + +The man knew how completely fagged she was. Riding behind her through +the silver night, his greedy eyes noted her game struggle not to give +in. He saw the flowing lines of the girlish figure relax with fatigue. +No longer was the gallant little dusky head poised lightly above the +flat straight back. But he made no offer to rest. It was essential that +they should get beyond any chance of capture by her friends. Once he had +her safely in his hands she might sleep round the clock undisturbed. + +It was midnight before they rode into the cottonwoods of Lone Tree +Spring. Chad lifted her, stiff and cold from lack of circulation, to the +ground. She clung to his coat sleeve for a moment dizzily before she +limped forward to the live-oak that gave the place its name. The girl +sank down beside the water-hole with her back to the trunk of the tree. + +There was faint, humorous apology in the tired smile she lifted to the +man. + +"I guess I'm what the boys call a quitter, Chad," she decided. + +"You're a game little thoroughbred," he blurted out. "You're all in. +That's what's the matter with you. Never mind, little girl. I'll fix the +tarps so as you can get some sleep. When you wake you'll be good as +ever." + +"Don't let me sleep too long. Perhaps I'd better just rest." + +"No; take a couple of hours' sleep. I'll wake you when it's time to go." + +He brought the saddle blankets, spread them on the ground, and covered +them with his slicker. His coat served for a pillow. Above her he spread +a tarp and tucked the edges under. + +"You're good to me, Chad," she told him with a sleepy little smile. + +"I aim to be." He stooped and kissed her with a sudden passionate +impulse. + +Startled at his roughness, she drew back. "Don't ... please!" + +He rose abruptly. "Go to sleep," was his harsh command. + +A vague uneasiness that was almost fear stirred in her mind. She did not +know this man at all. Except for the merest surface commonplaces he was +a stranger to her. Yet she had promised to give her life into his +keeping. They were alone together in this moonlit night of stars, a +thousand miles from all the safeguards that had always hedged her soft +youth. After she had married him they would always be together. Even her +mother and Phil would be outsiders. So would all her friends--Daisy +Ellington and Frank Farrar ... and Steve Yeager if he lived. And he must +live. She affirmed that passionately, clung to the thought of it as a +drowning man does to a plank. He would get well--of course he would.... + +And so she fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE NIGHT TRAIL + + +Yeager rode into Los Robles an hour after Harrison and Ruth had left. He +turned in at the Lunar stables the pony Pasquale had so kindly donated +to his use and walked across town to the Seymour bungalow. Passing +through the garden and round the house, he disappeared without being +seen into the remodeled barn where he lodged. + +He felt bully. After an adventure that had been a close call he was back +home among friends who would be glad to see him. As he took his bath and +shaved and dressed he broke occasionally into a whistle of sheer +exuberant joy of life. He intended to surprise the folks by walking down +and taking his place with the others when the dinner bell rang. Daisy +Ellington would clap her hands and sparkle in her enthusiastic way. +Shorty would begin to poke fun at him. Mrs. Seymour would probably just +smile in her slow, motherly fashion and see that he got one of the +choice steaks. And Ruth--would she flash at him her swift dimpled smile +of pleasure? Or would she still be harboring malice toward him for +having warned her against Harrison? + +Steve waited until he thought they would be seated before he opened the +door and stepped into the dining-room. The effect was not at all what he +had expected. Daisy was the first to see him. She dropped her knife on +the plate with a clatter and gave a little scream. Shorty stopped a +spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth, as if he were waiting to have a +still picture of himself taken. His eyes stared and his jaw fell. Mrs. +Seymour, who was bringing a platter from the kitchen, stood stock-still +in the doorway. The expression, on her face arrested Yeager's smile. + +"What's the matter with you all? Looks like you were seeing a ghost," he +said. + +"Where did you come from, Steve Yeager?" demanded Mrs. Seymour. + +"Me? Why, I came from my room--reached town an hour or so ago." + +Something cold clutched at the heart of the mother. "Where from? Weren't +you in Sonora?" + +"Sure I was. At Noche Buena. And I want to tell you that I've had enough +of that burg for quite some time." + +Daisy broke in. "Isn't it true that you were shot?" + +He turned to her, surprised. "How did you hear that story already. No, +it ain't true. I was to have been shot this mawnin', but I broke jail +and made a getaway." + +"But--your letter said you had shot yourself and couldn't live long. I +read it myself. Mr. Threewit showed it to me before he left." + +"And Mr. Harrison told us it was true," corroborated Mrs. Seymour. She +knew something was wrong, but as yet she could not guess what. + +"Harrison! Has he been here?" asked Yeager sharply. + +"He and Ruth left this afternoon for Noche Buena. He said you wanted to +see her before you died and he showed us the letter you had written." + +The range-rider stood paralyzed. The truth flashed numbingly over his +brain. + +"Ruth--gone with Harrison--to Noche Buena," was all he could say. + +Again Daisy cut in, this time sharply. "Tell us your story, Steve. What +is it that's wrong?" + +In a dozen sentences he told it. They listened tensely. The mother was +the first to break the silence after he had finished. She began to sob. +Steve put an arm across her shoulder awkwardly. + +"Now, don't you, Mrs. Seymour. Don't you take on. We'll get right on his +trail." He turned abruptly to Orman. "Get horses saddled. We'll hit the +road right away. Daisy, call up Threewit and let him know. I'll take +your gat, Shorty." + +The edge of decision was in his voice. Nobody disputed the orders of +this lean, brown, sunbaked youth with the alert, quiet, masterful eyes. +In his manner was something more deadly than threats. More than one of +those present thought he would not like to be Harrison. + +"Mr. Threewit has gone. He and Frank started for Noche Buena almost an +hour ago. They went because of your letter," explained Miss Ellington. + +"Good. We'll probably catch them. Jackson, find out if they went armed +and see that we all have rifles as well as six-guns. Get a move on you. +We'll start in ten minutes from the hotel." + +Within the stipulated time they were in the saddle. Steve looked his +posse over with an eye competent and vigilant. "Orman, you and Bob ride +straight to the Lazy B. Harrison gave it out he was going to stop there +for the night. Me, I think he was lying. If he hasn't been there, cut +acrost to Gila Creek and follow the bed. Jackson and Dan, you go +straight south for the old Pima water-hole and sweep along below the +edge of the mesa. I'll have a try more to the east. Mind, no slip-up, +boys. And don't forget Harrison wears his guns low. If you have to +shoot, aim to kill." + +Phil Seymour came running down the road. "What's this they're telling +about Ruth and Harrison?" he demanded. + +Yeager had no time for explanations. He turned the boy over to one of +the others. "Tell him about it, Jackson. If he wants to go along, take +him with you and Dan. We'll all meet to-morrow noon at Sieber's Pass." + +He shot down the road at a gallop, leaving behind him a cloud of gray +dust. The others followed at a canter. Their horses had to cover many +miles before morning and there was no use in running them off their legs +at the start. + +Jackson, waiting for Phil to rope and saddle a pony, yelled a caution to +the others. + +"Keep yore shirts on, boys. This ain't no hundred-yard dash. Steve's +burnin' the wind because he's got to haid off Harrison from Pasquale's +camp. All we got to do is to drive him up to Steve." + +Phil cut out and roped a pony, then slapped on a saddle. Presently he +and Jackson were following the others down the dust-filled road. + +The boy spoke his fears aloud, endeavoring to reassure himself. + +"Chad won't hurt Ruth any. He wouldn't dare. This country won't stand +for that kind of a play with a girl. Arizona would hang him to the first +telegraph pole that was handy." + +The cowpuncher looked at him and spoke dryly. "I reckon the skunk's been +out of Arizona quite some time. He's in greaser land now, and I never +heard tell that Pasquale was so darned particular what his men did. Just +tie a knot in this: if Harrison reaches the insurrecto camp with yore +sister, she'll come back as his wife--or not at all." + +"By God! I'll kill Harrison at sight if he hurts a hair of her head," +the boy cried, a lump in his throat. + +"Mebbe you will, mebbe you won't. Chad ain't just what you'd call a +white man. He'll shoot out of the chaparral if he's pressed. Someone's +going to git hurt if we bump into Mr. Harrison. It won't be no picnic +a-tall to take him. He's liable to be more hos-tile than a nest of +yellow jackets." + +"Leave him to me if we come up with him. I'll shoot it out with him," +the boy cried wildly. + +Jackson grinned. "You're crazy with the heat, boy. What do you reckon I +bought chips in this game for? I want a crack at the coyote myself." + +Phil and Jackson caught up with old Dan a mile or so beyond the point +where the road to the Lazy B left the main traveled trail. + +"The other boys hitting the dust for the ranch?" asked Jackson. + +"Yep." + +"Yeager's got it right. They won't find Harrison there. He'll go through +with his play. Chad's no quitter." + +Dan nodded. He was a reticent man of about fifty-five with a bald head +and a face of wrinkled leather. + +"We'll git him sure," Phil spoke up, announcing his hope rather than his +conviction. "Steve knows what he's doing, you bet." + +Yeager himself was not so sure. Doubts tortured him as to the +destination of Harrison. Perhaps, after all, he might be making for some +refuge in the hills and not for Pasquale's headquarters. He knew that as +soon as word reached them the Lazy B riders would begin to comb the +desert in pursuit. But what were a dozen riders among these thousand +hill pockets of the desert? The best chance was to catch the man at some +one of the few water-holes. But if he pushed on at full speed the +chances were all in his favor considering the long start he had. + +The range-rider was astride the fastest horse in the Lunar stables. +Steve had taken his pick of the mounts, for his work was cut out for +him. Hitherto the luck had all been with Harrison. If Yeager had not met +one of the old Lone Star boys, now riding for the Hashknife outfit, and +stopped to join him in a long talk over their cigarettes, Steve would +have reached Los Robles in time to spoil the man's plan. Or if he had +gone direct to Mrs. Seymour instead of fooling away a good hour and a +half in his room, he would have cut down his enemy's start by so much +golden time. + +Now all he could do was to get every foot of speed from his horse that +could be coaxed. He rode like a Centaur, giving with his lithe, supple +body to every motion of the animal. But though he took steep hillsides +of shale on the run, the pony slithering down in a slide of rubble like +a cat, the rider's alert eyes watched the footing keenly. He could +afford if necessary to break a leg himself, but he could not afford to +have the horse suffer such an accident. Not for nothing had he ridden on +the roundup for many years. Few men even in Arizona could have +negotiated safely such a bit of daredevil travel as he was doing this +night. + +His brains were busy, too, on the problem before him. Times and +distances he figured, took into account the animals Harrison and Ruth +were riding, estimated her strength and her companion's feverish haste +to reach safety with her. They would have to stop at a water-hole +somewhere, either on Gila Creek, or the old Pima camping-ground, or else +at Lone Tree Spring. The most direct route to Noche Buena was by Lone +Tree. Harrison was in a deuce of a hurry. Therefore he would choose the +shortest way. So Yeager guessed and hoped. + +His watch told him it was an hour past midnight when Steve drew close +to Lone Tree Spring. He was following a sandy wash into the soft bed of +which the hoofs of his horse sank without noise. They were perhaps two +hundred yards from the spring when the ears of his pony lifted. That was +enough for Yeager. He dismounted and trailed the reins, guessing that +the wind had brought the scent of other horses to his own. Quietly he +moved forward, rifle in hand ready for action. + +The heart of him jumped when he caught sight of two picketed horses +grazing on the bench above. He worked forward with infinite care along +the bank of the wash till he reached the first of the cottonwoods. From +here he could catch a glimpse of something huddled lying under the +live-oak. This no doubt was the sleeping girl. The figure of a heavy-set +man stood with his back to Yeager in silhouette against the skyline. + +Yeager crawled forward another fifteen yards. A twig snapped under his +knee. The figure in silhouette whirled. Steve rose at the same instant, +rifle raised to his shoulder. + +"Don't move," he advised quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE CAVE MEN + + +Harrison stared at him dumfounded, chin down and jutting, his hand +hovering longingly close to the butt of a revolver. He stood so for an +instant in silence, crouched and tense. + +"Damn you, so you're here," he said at last in a low, hoarse voice. + +"Don't make another pass like that or I'll plug you. Unbuckle that belt +and drop it. That's right. Now, kick it from you." + +"What do you want?" demanded the man under the gun savagely after he had +obeyed instructions. + +"You know what I want, you wolf." Steve moved forward till he was about +fifteen feet from the other. His eyes did not lift for a moment from the +man he covered. + +They glared at each other, two savage, primeval men with the murder lust +in their hearts. All that centuries of civilization had brought them was +just now quenched. + +Then the woman, the third factor in the triangle, stirred restlessly and +awoke. She looked at them incuriously from innocent eyes still heavy +with slumber. Gradually the meaning of the scene came home to her, and +with it a realization that Steve Yeager was standing before her in the +flesh. + +"You--here!" she cried, scarce believing. + +"The cur lied," explained the cowpuncher. "It was a frame-up to get you +in his power." + +"But your letter said--" + +"Never mind about that now. Go down into the wash and bring up my horse. +It needs water." + +She hesitated. "You're not going to hurt him, Steve?" + +"That's between him and me. Do as I say." + +Ruth scarcely recognized in this grim, hard-faced man with the blazing +eyes the gay youth whom she knew at home. She felt in his manner the +steel of compulsion. Without further protest she moved to obey him. She +was fearful of what was about to take place, but her heart leaped with +gladness. Steve was alive and strong. It was not true that he lay with +the life ebbing out of him, all the supple strength stolen from his +well-knit body. For the moment that was happiness enough. + +Harrison, watching with narrowed eyes the stone-wall face of his captor, +jeered at him hardily. + +"Now you got a strangle holt on me, what you aim to do?" + +"I'm going to take you back to the boys that are combing these hills for +you. They'll do all that's done." + +The prisoner's sneer went out of commission. He did not need to ask what +Arizona cowpunchers would do to him under the circumstances. + +"I figured your size was about a twenty-two--not big enough to fight it +out alone with me. Once is a-plenty." + +The cave man's desire to beat down his enemy with his naked hands +smouldered fiercely in the cowpuncher's heart. + +"Step out in front of me and saddle those horses," he ordered. + +Harrison looked at him murderously. His mouth was an ugly, crooked gash. +Boiling with rage, he saddled, cinched, and watered the horses. + +Ruth had returned with Steve's pony. Her heart beat fast with +excitement. An instinct told her they were about to come to grips in +epic struggle. + +"You're mighty high-heeled now when you got a gun thrown on me. Put it +in the discard and I'll beat the life out o' you," threatened the +prizefighter. + +Not releasing the other man with his eyes, Yeager lent one hand to help +Ruth mount. He gave clear, curt instructions in a level voice. + +"Take all three horses and ride to the edge of the mesa. Wait there. +One of us--either him or me--will come up there after a while. If it's +him, take all the horses and light out. Keep the moon on your left and +ride straight forward till daybreak. You'll see a gash in the hills +about where the sun rises. That's Sieber's Pass. The boys will be +waiting for you. Understand?" + +"Yes, but--What are you going to do, Steve?" she cried almost in a +whisper. + +"That's my business--and I'm going to attend to it. Keep your mind on +the directions I've given. If it's Harrison that comes up over the hill, +get right out with all the horses. Gimme your promise on that." + +Trembling, she gave it to him. + +"Don't you be afraid. No need of that. _It won't be him. It'll be me +that comes._ But if it should be him, don't let him get close. Shoot him +first. It will be to save you from worse than death. Have you got the +nerve to do it?" + +Something in his manner, in his voice, rang a bell in her heart. She +nodded, her throat too dry for speech. + +"All right. Go now. And don't make any mistake whatever you do. Follow +out exactly what I've told you." + +Again she promised. He handed to her the rifle. She rode away, taking +the other horses with her. + +When she was out of sight in a dip of the draw, Harrison spoke. + +"Well, what is it to be? I see you got your gats yet. Going to shoot me +down like a coyote?" + +"That's what you deserve. That's what you'd get if the Lazy B boys got +hold of you. But I'm going to kill you with my bare hands, you wolf." + +With what seemed a single motion of his hands he unbuckled the revolver +belt from his waist and flung it from him. Crouched like a tiger, he +moved slowly forward, the flow of his muscles rhythmic and graceful. + +The prizefighter could scarce believe his luck. He threw out his salient +chin and laughed triumphantly. "You damned fool! I've got you at last. +I've got you." + +Light as a panther, Yeager lashed out with his left and caught flush the +point of that protruding chin. The grinning head went back as if it had +been on hinges. Shoulders, buttocks, and heels hit the ground together. +The range-rider was on him as a terrier lights on a rat. Jarred though +his brains were, the instinct of self-preservation served the man +underneath. He half turned, flung an arm around the neck of his foe, and +clung tightly even while he covered up. Steve's fist hammered at the +back of the close-cropped head. The prizefighter swung over, face down, +rose to his hands and knees by sheer strength, then reached for his neck +grip again. + +Yeager eluded him, throwing all his weight forward to force his opponent +down again. Harrison gave suddenly. They rolled over and over, fighting +and clawing like wild cats, two bipeds in a death struggle as fierce and +ruthless as that between wolves or grizzlies. No words were spoken. They +were back in the primitive Stone Age before speech was invented. +Snarling and growling, they fought with an appalling fury. + +Presently they were back on their feet again. Toe to toe they stood, +rocking each other with sledgehammer blows. Blood poured from the beaten +faces of both. Harrison clinched. They staggered to and fro before they +went down heavily, Yeager underneath. The prizefighter thrust his right +forearm under the chin of his enemy and with his left thumb and middle +finger gouged at the eyes of the man beneath him. Steve's legs moved up, +encircled those of the rustler, and swiftly straightened. With a bellow +of pain Harrison flung himself free and clambered to his feet. The legs +of his trousers had been ripped open for a foot. Blood streamed from his +calves where the sharp rowels of the range-rider's spurs had torn the +flesh. + +They quartered over the ground many times as they fought. Sometimes +they were on their feet slogging hard. Once, at least, they crouched +knee to knee. Lying on the ground, they struck no less furiously and +desperately. All sense of fair play, of sportsmanship, was gone. They +struggled to kill and not be killed. + +Their lungs labored heavily. They began to stagger as they moved. The +muscles of their arms lost their resilience. Their legs dragged as +though weighted. Harrison was, if a choice might be made, in worse case. +He was the stronger man, but he lacked the tireless endurance of the +other. Watching him with animal wariness, Yeager knew that the man who +went down first would stay down. His enemy was sagging at the knees. He +could with difficulty lift his arms. He fought only in spurts. All this +was true of himself, too. But somewhere in him was that dynamic will not +to be beaten that counted heavily as a reserve. + +The prizefighter called on himself for the last attack. He stumbled +forward, head down, in a charge. An aimless blow flung Steve against the +trunk of the live-oak. His arms thrashing wildly, Harrison plunged +forward to finish him. The cowpuncher ducked, lurched to one side. +Against the bark of the tree crashed the fist of the other, swinging him +half round. + +Yeager flung himself on the back of his foe. Human bone and flesh and +muscle could do no more. The knees of Harrison gave and he sank to the +ground, his head falling in the spring. His opponent, breathless and +exhausted, lay motionless on top of him. For a time both lay without +stirring. The first to move was Steve. He noticed that the nose and +mouth of the senseless man lay beneath the water. By exerting all his +strength he pulled the battered head almost out of the water. Very +slowly and painfully he got to his feet. Leaning against the tree for +support, he looked down at the helpless white face of the man he had +hated so furiously only a few minutes earlier. That emotion had entirely +vanished. It was impossible to feel any resentment against that bruised +and bleeding piece of clay. Steve was conscious only of a tremendous +desire to lie down and go to sleep. + +He laved his face with water as best he could, picked up the belt he had +thrown away, and drunkenly climbed the hill toward Ruth. + +She cried out at sight of him with a heart of joy, but as he lurched +nearer she slid from the horse and ran toward him. Could this be the man +she had left but half an hour since so full of vital strength and youth? +His vest and shirt were torn to ribbons so that they did not cover the +mauled and bruised flesh at all. Every exposed inch of his head and body +had its wounds to show. He was drenched with blood. The sight of his +face wrung her heart. + +"What did he do to you?" she cried with a sob, slipping an arm round his +waist to support him. + +"I said I'd be the one to come," he told her as he leaned against the +neck of his pony. + +"Oh, why did you do it?" And swiftly on the heels of that cry came the +thought of relief for him. "I'll get you water. I'll bathe your wounds." + +"No. We've got to get out of here. Any time some of Pasquale's men may +come. His camp is not far." + +"But you can't go like that. You're hurt." + +"That's all right. Nothing the matter with me. Can you get on alone?" + +"Can you?" she asked in turn, after she had swung to the saddle. + +He had to try it three times before he succeeded in getting into the +seat. So weak was he that as the horse moved he had to cling with both +hands to the pommel of the saddle to steady himself. Ruth rode close +beside him, all solicitude and anxiety. + +"You ought not to be riding. I know your wounds hurt you cruelly," she +urged in a grave and troubled voice. + +"I reckon I can stand the grief. When I've had a bath and a good sleep +I'll be good as new." + +She asked timidly the question that filled her mind. "Did you--What +about him?" + +"Did I kill him? Is that what you mean?" + +"Yes," she murmured. + +"No, I reckon not. He was lying senseless when I left, but I expect +he'll come to." + +"Oh, I hope so ... I do hope so." + +He looked at her, asking no questions. Some men would have broken into +denunciation of the scoundrel, would have defended the course they had +followed. This man did neither the one nor the other. She might think +what she pleased. He had fought from an inner compulsion, not to win her +applause. No matter how she saw it he could offer no explanations or +apologies. + +"I hope so because--because of you," she continued. "Now I know him for +what he is. I'm through with him for always." Then, in a sudden burst of +frankness: "I never did trust him, really." + +"You've had good luck. Some women find out things too late," he +commented simply. + +After that they rode in silence, except at long intervals when she asked +him if he was in pain or too tired to travel. The lightening of the sky +for the coming dawn found them still in the saddle with the jagged +mountain line rising vaguely before them in the darkness like a long +shadow. Presently they could make out the gash in the range that was +Sieber's Pass. + +"Some of the boys will be waiting there for us, I reckon," Steve said. +"They'll be glad to see you safe." + +"If I'm safe, they'll know who brought it about." Her voice trembled as +she hurried on: "I can't thank you. All I can say is that I understand +from what you saved me." + +He looked away at the distant hills. "That's all right. I had the good +luck to be in the right place. Any of the boys would have been glad of +the chance." + +After a time they saw smoke rising from a hollow in the hills. They were +climbing steadily now by way of a gulch trail. This opened into a draw. +A little back from the stream a man was bending over a camp-fire. He +turned his head to call to a second man and caught sight of them. It was +Orman. He let out a whoop of gladness when he recognized Ruth. Others +came running from a little clump of timber. + +Phil lifted his sister from the saddle and kissed her. He said nothing, +since he could not speak without breaking down. + +Jackson looked at Steve in amazement. "You been wrastling with a +circular saw?" he asked. + +It hurt Yeager's broken face to smile, but he attempted it. "Had a +little difference of opinion with Chad. We kind o' talked things over." + +Nobody asked anything further. It is the way of outdoor Arizona to take +a good deal for granted. This man was torn and tattered and bruised. His +face was cut open in a dozen places. Purple weals and discolorations +showed how badly his body had been punished. He looked a fit subject for +a hospital. But every one who looked into his quiet, unconquered eyes +knew that he had come off victor. + +"First off, a bath in the creek to get rid of these souvenirs Chad sent +to my address. Then it's me for the hay," he announced. + +Ruth watched him go, lean, sinewy, and wide-shouldered. His stride was +once more light and strong, for with the passing hours power had flowed +back into his veins. She sighed. He was a man that would go the limit +for his friends. He was gentle, kindly, full of genial and cheerful +courage. But she knew now there was another side to him, a quality that +was tigerish, that snarled like a wolf in battle. Why was it that men +must be so? + +Old Dan chuckled. "Ain't he the lad? Stove up to beat all get-out. But +I'd give a dollar Mex to see the other man. He's sure a pippin to see +this glad mawnin'." + +Something of what was groping in her mind broke from Ruth into words. +"Why do men fight like that? It's dreadful." + +Dan scratched his shiny bald head. "It straightens out a heap of things +in this little old world. My old man used to say to me when I was a kid, +'Son, don't start trouble, but when it's going, play yore hand out.' +That's how it is with Steve. He ain't huntin' trouble anywhere, but he +ce'tainly plays his hand out." + +Phil took charge of his sister. He gave her coffee and breakfast, then +arranged blankets so that she could get a few hours' sleep in comfort. +Orman rode back to Los Robles to carry the word to Mrs. Seymour that +Ruth had been rescued and was all right. The others lounged about camp +while Yeager and the girl slept. + +At noon they were wakened. Coffee was served again, after which they +rode down from the pass and started home. Before supper-time they were +back in Los Robles. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +STEVE WINS A HAM SANDWICH + + +Yeager was roused from sleep next morning by a knock at the door. His +visitor was Fleming Lennox, leading man of the company. + +"Say, Steve, what about Threewit and Farrar? I just telephoned to the +Lazy B Ranch and the foreman says his boys did not run across them. You +know what that means. They've reached old Pasquale's camp." + +Yeager sat up in bed and whistled softly to himself. This was a +contingency he had not foreseen. What would the Mexican chief do to two +of the range-rider's friends who delivered themselves into his hands so +opportunely? Steve did not think he would kill them offhand, but he was +very sure they would not be at liberty to return home. Moreover, +Harrison would be on the ground, eager for revenge. The prizefighter +never had liked Farrar. He had sworn to get even with Threewit. An added +incentive to this course was the fact that he knew them both to be on +very good terms with his chief enemy. Without doubt Chad would do his +best to stimulate the insurgent leader to impulsive violence. + +The man in bed concealed his apprehension under a comical grin. "This +life's just one damned thing after another, looks like," he commented. +"I didn't figure on that. I thought sure the boys would bump into +Threewit. That slip-up surely spills the beans." + +"You don't think even Pasquale would dare hurt them, do you?" asked +Lennox anxiously. + +"Search me. Pasquale's boiled in p'ison, especially when he is drunk. +He'd do whatever he had a mind to do." + +"What's the matter with us sending a messenger down there with a fake +wire from the old man to Threewit telling him to hustle up and get busy +right away on a feature film? Pasquale would have to show his hand, +anyhow. We'd know where we were at." + +Yeager assented. "He'd have to turn them loose or hold them. But even if +he turned them loose, he might arrange to have them accidentally killed +by bandits before they reached home. Still, it would put one thing right +up to him--that their friends know where they are and are ready to sick +Uncle Sam on him if he don't act proper." + +Manderson, Miss Winters, and Daisy Ellington were called into council +after breakfast. The situation was canvassed from all sides, but in the +end they stood where they had been at the beginning. Nobody felt sure +what Pasquale would do or knew whether the visitors at his camp would +be detained as prisoners. The original suggestion of Lennox seemed the +best under the circumstances. + +Old Juan Yuste was brought in from the stables and given the telegram. +He was told nothing except that it was urgent that Threewit get the +message as soon as possible. The five-dollar gold-piece which Lennox +tossed to the Mexican drew a grin that exposed a mouth half empty of +teeth. + +In the absence of both Threewit and Farrar the business of producing +films was at a standstill. The members of the company took an enforced +holiday. Manderson read a novel. Daisy wrote letters. Lennox and Miss +Winters went for a long stroll. Steve helped Baldy Cummings mend broken +saddles and other property stuff. The extras played poker. + +Juan returned late in the evening on the second day. He brought with him +a letter addressed to Lennox. It was from Pasquale. The message was +written in English. It said:-- + + Greetings, senor. Your friends are the guests of General Pasquale. + They came to Noche Buena to find one Senor Yeager. They are + resolved to stay here until he is found by them, even though they + remain till the day of their death. + +The note was signed, "Siempre, Gabriel Pasquale." + +After reading, it, Yeager handed the note back to Lennox and spoke +quietly. + +"Pasquale passes the buck up to me. I've been thinking he might do +that." + +"You mean--?" + +"--That he serves notice he's going to kill our friends if I don't give +myself up to him." + +"But would he? Dare he?" + +Yeager shrugged. "It will happen in the usual Mexican way--killed by +accident while trying to escape, or else ambushed by Federals on the +desert while coming home, according to the story that will be dished up +to the papers. He will be full of regrets and apologies to our +Government, but that won't help Threewit or Frank any." + +"Don't you think he's bluffing? Pasquale hasn't a thing against either +of them. He surely wouldn't murder them in cold blood." + +"I don't know whether he is or not. But it's up to me to sit in and take +cards. They went down to Noche Buena on my account. I'm going down on +theirs." + +Lennox stared incredulously at him. "You don't mean you're going to give +yourself up. Pasquale would hang up your hide to dry." + +"That's just what he would do, after he had boiled me in oil or given me +some other pleasant diversion. No, I reckon I'll not give myself up. +I'll join his army again." + +"I give it up, Steve. Tell me the answer." + +"As a private this time." + +"Fat chance you'll have, with Friend Harrison there to spot you, not to +mention the old boy himself and Culvera." + +"It won't be Steve Yeager that joins. It will be a poor peon from the +hills named Pedro or Juan or Pablo." + +"You're going to rig up as a Mexican?" + +"Some guesser, Lennox." + +"You can't put it over, not with your face looking like a pounded +beefsteak. I judge you don't know what an Exhibit A you are at present. +The first time Chad looked at you, he would recognize the result of his +uppercuts and swings." + +"So he would. I'll have to wait a week or so. Send Juan back to Pasquale +and tell him you hear I'm in the Lone Star country where I used to +punch. Say you've sent for me with an offer to take Harrison's place in +the company, and that if I come you'll arrange with him to have me taken +by his men while we're doing a set near the line. He'll fall for that +because he'll be so keen to get me that any chance will look good to +him. You'll have to give Juan a tip not to let it out I'm here." + +"What can you do if you get into Pasquale's camp as one of his men?" + +"I don't know. Something will turn up." + +"You're taking a big chance, Steve." + +"Not because I want to. But I've got to do what I can for the boys. This +ain't just the time for a 'watchful waiting' policy, seems to me. If +you've got anything better to offer, I'm agreeable to listen." + +"The only thing I can think of is to appeal to Uncle Sam." + +"That won't get us much. But there's no harm in trying. Have the old man +stir up a big dust at Washington. After plenty of red tape an official +representation will be made to Pasquale. He will lie himself black in +the face. More correspondence. More explanations. Finally, if the +prisoners are still alive, they will start home. Mebbe they'll get here. +Mebbe they won't." + +"Then you don't think it's worth trying?" + +"Sure I do. Every little helps. It might make Pasquale sit steady in the +boat till I get a chance to pull off something." + +When Daisy Ellington heard of the plan she went straight to Yeager. + +"What's this I hear about you committing suicide?" she demanded. + +"News to me, compadre," smiled the puncher. + +"You're not really going down there to shove your head into that den of +wolves, are you?" Without waiting for an answer she pushed on to a +prediction. "Because if you do, they'll surely snap it off." + +"Wish you'd change your brand of prophecy, nina. You see, this is the +only head I've got. I'm some partial to it." + +"Then you had better keep away from that old Pasquale and Chad Harrison. +Don't be foolish, Steve." She caught the lapels of his coat and shook +him fondly. "If you don't know when you're well off, your friends do. +We're not going to let you go." + +"Threewit and Farrar," he reminded her. + +"They'll have to take their chance. Besides, Pasquale isn't going to +hurt them. There wouldn't be any sense in it. So there's no use us +getting panicky." + +"I don't reckon I'm exactly panicky, Daisy. But it won't do to forget +that Pasquale is one bad hombre. Harrison is another, and he's got it in +for the boys. We can't lie down and quit on them, can we? I notice they +didn't do that with me." + +"What good will it do for you to go and get trapped too? It's different +with you. They've got it in for you down there. It's just foolhardiness +for you to go back," she told him sharply. + +"You're sure some little boss," he laughed. "I'm willing to be +reasonable. If I can prove to you that I stand a good chance to pull it +off down at Noche Buena, will you feel different about it?" + +"Yes, if you can--but you can't," she agreed, flashing at him the +provocative little smile that was one of her charms. + +"Bet you a box of chocolates against a ham sandwich I can." + +"You're on," she nodded airily. + +"Better order that ham sandwich," he advised, mocking her lazily with +his friendly eyes. + +"Oh, I don't know. You're not so much, Cactus Center. I expect to be +eating chocolates soon." + +Her gay audacity always pleased him. He settled himself for explanations +soberly, but back of his gravity lay laughter. + +"You've got the wrong hunch on me. I ain't any uneducated sheepherder. +Don't run away with that notion. Me, I went through the first year of +the High School at Tucson. I know all about _amo, amas, amat_, and how +to make a flying tackle. Course oncet in a while I slip up in grammar. +There's heap too much grammar in the world, anyhow. It plumb chokes up a +man's language." + +"All right, Steve. Show me. I'm from Joplin, Missouri. When are you +going to do all this proving?" + +"We won't set a date. Some time before I leave." + +Yeager walked from the studio to his rooming-place. Ruth Seymour met him +on the porch and stopped him. It was the first time he had seen her +since their return. + +"Is it true--what Mr. Manderson says--that you are going back to Noche +Buena?" she flung at him. + +"I'm certainly getting on the society page," he laughed. "Manderson has +a pretty good reputation. I shouldn't wonder if what he says is true." + +The face beneath the crown of soft black hair was colorless except for +the trembling lips. + +"Why? Why must you go? You've just escaped from there with your life. +Are you mad?" + +"Look here, Miss Ruth. I've just had a roundup with Miss Ellington about +this. I'm going to take a whirl at rescuing our friends. Pasquale can't +put over such a raw deal without getting a run for his money from me. +I'm going back there because it's up to me to go. There are some things +a man can't do. He can't quit when his friends need him." + +She was standing in the doorway, her head leaning against the jamb so +that the fine curve of the throat line showed a beating pulse. Something +in the pose of the slim, graceful figure told him of repressed emotion. + +"That is absurd, Mr. Yeager. You can't do anything for them if you go." + +"Everybody sizes me up for a buzzard-head," he complained whimsically. + +The gravity did not lift from her young, quick eyes. + +"If you go they'll kill you," she said in a voice as dry as a whisper. + +"Sho! Nothing to that. I'm going down disguised. I'll be safe enough." + +"I suppose ... nothing can keep you from going." A sob choked up in her +throat as she spoke. + +"No. I've got to go." + +"You think you have a right to play at dice with your life! Don't your +friends count with you at all?" + +"It's because they do that I'm going," he answered gently. + +Her troubled eyes rested on his. The protest in her heart was still +urgent, but she dared go no further. Some instinct of maidenly reticence +curbed the passionate rebellion against his decision. If she said more, +she might say too much. With a swift, sinuous turn of the slender body +she ran into the house and left him standing there. + + * * * * * + +Daisy sat at one end of the pergola mending a glove. It was in the +pleasant cool of the evening just as dusk was beginning to fall. A light +breeze rustled the rose-leaves and played with the tendrils of her soft, +wavy hair. The coolness was grateful after the heat of an Arizona day. + +The front gate creaked. A man was coming in, a Mexican of the peon +class. He moved up the walk toward her with a slight limp. As he drew +closer, she observed negligently that he was of early middle age, +ragged, and of course dirty. Age and lack of soap had so dyed his serape +that the original color was quite gone. + +He bowed to her with the native courtesy that belongs to even the peons +of his race. A swift patter of Spanish fell from his lips. + +Miss Ellington shook her head. "No sabe Espanol." + +The man gushed into a second eruption of liquid vowels, accompanied this +time by gestures which indicated that he wanted food. + +The young woman nodded, went into the house, and secured from Mrs. +Seymour a plate of broken fragments left over from supper. With this and +a cup of coffee she returned to the pergola. + +"Gracias, senorita." The shining black poll of the man bowed over the +donation as he accepted it. + +He sat cross-legged among the roses and ate what had been given him. +Daisy observed critically that his habit of eating was not at all nice. +He discarded the fork she had brought, using only the knife and his +fingers. The meat he tore apart and devoured ravenously, cramming it +wolfishly into his mouth as fast as he could. A few days before she had +fallen into an argument with Steve Yeager about the civilization of the +Mexicans. She wished he could see this specimen. + +The man spoke, after he had cleaned the plate, licked up the gravy, and +gulped down the coffee. His words fell in a slow drawl, not in Spanish, +but in English. + +"Don't you reckon mebbe I could get a ham sandwich too?" + +The actress jumped. "Steve, you fraud!" she screamed, and flew at him. + +"Do I win?" he asked, protecting himself as he backed away. + +"Of course you do. Why haven't we been using you up stage in the Mexican +sets? You're perfect. How did you ever get your hair so slick and +black?" + +"I've been studying make-ups since I joined the Lunar Company," he told +her. + +"How about your Spanish? Is it good enough to pass muster?" + +"I learned to jabber it when I was a year old before I did English." + +"Then you'll do. I defy even Harrison to recognize you." + +He gave her his Mexican bow. "Gracias, senorita." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE HEAVY PAYS A DEBT + + +When Threewit and Farrar reached Noche Buena, Pasquale was absent from +camp, but Culvera made them suavely welcome. + +"Senor Yeager has recovered and was called away unexpectedly on +business," he explained; adding with his lip smile, "He will be +desolated to have missed you." + +"He is better, then?" + +"Indeed, quite his self. He nearly died from gunshot wounds, but unless +he suffers a relapse he is entirely out of present danger." + +"Shouldn't have thought it would have been safe to travel yet," Farrar +returned. + +He was uneasy in his mind, sensing something of mocking irony in the +manner of the Mexican. It was strange that Yeager, wounded to death as +his letter had said, was able in two days to be up and around again. + +"We were anxious to have him stop, but he was in a hurry. Personally I +did my best to get him to stay." Culvera's smile glittered +reminiscently: "The truth is that he thought our climate unhealthy. He +was afraid of heart failure." + +Threewit scoffed openly. "Absurd. The man is the finest physical +specimen I ever saw. If you had ever seen him on the back of an outlaw +bronc, you'd know his heart was all right." + +The door of the room opened and Harrison came in. He stopped, mouth open +with surprise at sight of the Americans. + +"Some of Mr. Yeager's anxious friends come down to inquire about his +health, Harrison. Did he seem to you healthy last time you saw him?" the +Mexican asked maliciously. + +Like a thunderclap the prizefighter broke loose in a turbid stream of +profanity. It boiled from his lips like molten lava from a crater. The +raucous words poured forth from a heart furious with rage. The man was +beside himself. He raved like a madman--and the object of his invective +was Stephen Yeager. + +And all the time the man cursed he stamped painfully about the room, a +sight to wonder at. His face was so swollen, so bruised and discolored, +that he was hardly recognizable. He had managed to creep into another +suit of clothes after the doctor had dressed his wounds and sewed up his +cuts, but these could not hide the fact that every step was a torment to +his pummeled ribs and lacerated flesh. He was game. Another man in his +condition would have been in the hospital. Harrison dragged himself +about because he would not admit that he was badly hurt. + +Culvera turned to the Americans and explained the situation in a few +sentences. He was enjoying himself extremely because the vanity of his +companion writhed at the position in which he was placed. + +"Your friend Yeager was not pleasing to our general and was sentenced to +be shot. He escaped in the night. Our companion Harrison, also I believe +a compatriot and friend of yours, is a charmer of ladies' hearts, as you +will perceive with one glance at his handsome face. Behold, then, an +elopement, romance, and moonshine. 'Linda de mi alma, amor mia, come,' +he cries. The lady comes. But, alas! for true love, the brutal vaquero +follows. They meet, and--I draw a merciful curtain over the result." + +Harrison was off again in crisp and crackling language. When at last his +vocabulary was exhausted, he turned savagely upon Threewit and Farrar. + +"I'll see Pasquale gets the right dope on you fellows too. You're a pair +of damned fools for coming here, believe _me_. If the old man can't get +Yeager, he'll take his friends instead. Didn't I tell you I'd make you +sick of what you did to me, Threewit? Good enough. I've got you both +where I want you now. You'll get plenty of hell, take my word for it." + +Threewit turned with dignity to the Mexican. "I have nothing to say to +this man, Major Culvera. But you are a gentleman. We have been deceived. +I ask for an escort as far as the border to see us safely back." + +Culvera was full of bland hospitality. "Really I can't permit you to +leave before the general returns. He would never forgive me. When +friends travel so far, they must be entertained. Not so?" + +"Are we prisoners? Is that what you mean?" demanded Farrar bluntly. + +The major shook his finger toward him with smiling deprecation. +"Prisoners! Fie, what a word among friends? Let us rather say guests of +honor. If I give you a guard it is as a precaution, to make sure that no +rash peon makes the mistake of injuring you as an enemy." + +"We understand," Threewit answered. "But I'll just tell you one thing, +major. Our friends know where we are, and Uncle Sam has a long arm. It +will reach easily to Noche Buena." + +"So, senor? Perhaps. Maybe. Who knows? Accidents happen--regrettable +ones. A thousand apologies to your Uncle Sam. Oh, yes! Ver' sorry. Too +late to mend, but then have we not shot the foolish peon who made the +mistake in regard to Senors Farrar and Threewit? Yes, indeed." + +Culvera tossed off his genial prophecy with the politest indifference. +The prisoners read in his words a threat, sinister and scarcely veiled. + +"You're talking murder, which is absurd," answered Threewit. "We've done +no harm to you or General Pasquale. We came here by mistake. He'll let +us go, of course." + +"You sent Yeager down here to spy about those cattle you lost. Now +you've come down here buttin' in to see for yourself. I don't expect +Pasquale is going to stand for any such thing," broke in Harrison. + +Farrar looked the prizefighter straight in the eye. + +"You're a liar and you know it, Harrison. Let me tell you something +else. You've stood here and cursed Yeager to the limit. Why? Because +he's a better man than you are. I don't know just what's happened, but I +can see that he has given you the beating of your life. And he did it in +fair fight too." + +Harrison interrupted with a scream of rage. "I'll cave his head in when +we meet sure as he's a foot high." + +"No, you won't. He's got your goat. What I've got to say about Yeager is +this. If you put over any of your sculduggery on us, he'll wipe you off +the map no matter in what lonesome hole you hide. Just stick a pin in +that." + +The bully moved slowly toward Farrar. His head had sunk down and his +shoulders fallen to the gorilla hunch. + +"You've said enough--too much, damn you," he roared. + +With catlike swiftness Culvera sprang from where he sat, flung his +weight low at the furious man from an angle, and tipped him from his +feet so that he fell staggering into a chair. + +"None of that, amigo," said the Mexican curtly. "These gentlemen are +guests of General Pasquale. Till he passes judgment they shall be +treated with ver' much courtesy." + +Panting heavily, Harrison glared at him. Some day he intended to take a +fall out of this supercilious young Spanish aristocrat, but just now he +was not equal to the task. He mumbled incoherent threats. + +"I don't quite catch your remarks. Is it that they are to my address, +Senor Harrison?" asked the young officer silkily. + +Heavily Harrison rose and passed from the room without looking at any of +them. For the present he was beaten and he knew it. + +The Mexican smiled confidentially at his prisoners. "Between friends, +it's ver' devilish unpleasant to do business with such a--what you +call--ruffian. But ver' necessar'. Oh, yes! Quite so." + +"Depends on one's business, I expect," replied Farrar. + +"You have said it, senor. A patriot can't be too particulair. He uses +the tools that come to his hands. But pardon! My tongue is like a +woman's. It runs away with time." + +He called the guard and had the prisoners removed. They were put in the +same adobe hut where Yeager had been confined a few days earlier. + +Threewit lit a cigar and paced up and down gloomily. "This is a hell of +a fix we're in. Before we get out of here the old man will be hollering +his head off for that 'Retreat of the Bandits' three-reeler." + +The camera man laughed ruefully. "I ain't worrying any about the old +man. He's back there safe in little old New York. It's Frank Farrar +that's on my mind. How is he going to get out of here?" + +The director stopped, took the cigar from his mouth, and looked across +questioningly at him. + +"You don't really think Pasquale will hurt us, do you?" + +"No; not unless the breaks go against us. I don't reckon Pasquale has +anything much against Yeager any more than he has against us. Of course, +Harrison will do his darndest to make him sore at us. Notice how he +tried to put it over that we had come about that bunch of cattle he +stole?" + +"Sure I did. But it is not likely that Harrison is ace high in this +pack. What I'm afraid of is that the old general will soak us for a +ransom. He's nothing but an outlaw, anyhow." + +Within the hour they were taken before Pasquale. He was still covered +with the dust of travel. His riding-gloves lay on the table where he had +tossed them. His soft white hat was on his head. As rapidly as possible +he was devouring a chicken dinner. + +It was his discourteous whim to keep them waiting in the back of the +room until he had finished. They were offered no seats, but stood +against the wall under the eye of the guard who had brought them. + +The general finished his bottle of wine before he turned savagely upon +them. + +"You are friends of the Gringo Yeager. Not so?" he accused. + +It was too late for a denial now. Threewit admitted the charge. + +"So. Maldito! What are you doing here? I've had enough of you Yankees!" +he exploded. + +Before Threewit had more than begun his explanations he brushed aside +the director's words. + +"This Yeager is a devil. Did he not crawl up on me unexpect' and strike +me here with an axe?" He touched the back of his head, across which a +wide bandage ran. "Be sure I will cut his heart out some day. Gabriel +Pasquale has said it. And you--you come here to spy what we have. You +claim my cattle. Am I a fool that I do not know?" + +"We are sorry--" + +The Mexican struck the table with his hairy brown fist so that the +dishes rang. "Sorry! Jesu Cristo! In good time I shall see to that. If I +do not lay hands upon this devil Yeager, his friends will do instead. Am +I one to be laughed at by Gringos?" + +Threewit spoke as firmly as he could, though the fear of this big, +unshaven savage was in his heart. "We are not spies, general. We were +brought here by the lie that Yeager lay here dying and had sent for us. +In no way have we harmed you. Before you go too far, remember that our +Government will not tolerate any foul play. We are not stray +sheepherders. Our friends are close to the President. They have his ear +and--" + +Pasquale leaned forward and snapped his fingers in the face of Threewit. +"That for your President and your Government. Pouf! I snap my fingers. I +spit on them. Mexico for the Mexicans. To the devil with all +foreigners." + +He nodded to the guard. "Away with them!" + +As they left they could hear him roaring for another bottle. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +PEDRO CABENZA + + +The Patriotic Legion of the Northern States was drinking mescal and +gambling for the paper money Pasquale had issued and rolling about in +the dust with joyous whoops from each squirming mass. It was a happy +Legion, though a dirty one. It let its chief do all the worrying about +how it was to be fed and transported. Cheerfully it went its ragged way, +eating, drinking, sleeping, card-playing, rolling in the dust of its +friendly wrestling. What matter that many members of the Legion were +barefoot, that its horses were scarecrows, that gunnysacks and ends of +wires from baled hay and bits of frazzled rope all made contribution to +the saddles and bridles of the cavalry! Was Pasquale not going to take +them straight to Mexico City, where all of them would be made rich at +the expense of the accursed Federals who had trodden upon the face of +the poor? Caramba! Soon now the devil would have his own. + +A burro appeared at one end of the hot and dusty street. Beside the +burro limped a man, occasionally beating the animal on the rump with a +switch he carried. The Legion took a languid interest. This was some +farmer from a hill valley bringing supplies to sell to the patriotic +army. Would his wares turn out to be mescal or vegetables or perhaps a +leggy steer that he had butchered? + +As he drew nearer it was to be seen that a crate hung from one side of +the burro. In it were chickens. Balancing this, on the other side, were +two gunnysacks. Through a hole in one of these pushed the green face of +a cabbage. Interest in the new arrival declined. The chickens would go +to the quarters of the officers, and cabbage was an old story. + +When the burro was opposite the corral one of the sacks gave way with a +rip. From out of the hole poured a stream of apples upon the dusty road. +That part of the Legion which was nearest pounced upon the fruit with +shouts of laughter. The owner tried to fight the half-grown soldiers +from his property. He might as well have tried to sweep back an ocean +tide with a broom. In ten seconds every apple had been gleaned from the +dust. Within thirty more everything but the cores had gone to feed the +Legion. + +The vendor of food wailed and flung imprecations at his laughing +tormentors. He cursed them fluently and shook a dirty brown fist at the +circle of troopers. He threatened to tell Pasquale what they had done. + +A harsh voice interrupted him. "What is it you will tell Pasquale?" + +The army began to melt unobtrusively away. The general himself, +accompanied by Major Ochampa, sat in the saddle and scowled at the +farmer. The latter told his story, almost in tears. This was all he had, +these chicken, cabbages, and apples. He had brought them down to sell +and was going to enlist. His Excellency would understand that he, Pedro +Cabenza, was a patriot, but, behold! he had been robbed. + +He was at any rate a very ragged patriot. There was a hole in his cotton +trousers through which four inches of coffee-colored leg showed. His +shoes were in the last stages. The hat he doffed was an extremely +ventilated one. + +Pasquale passed judgment instantly. It would never do for word to get +out that those bringing supplies to feed his army were not paid fairly. + +"Buy the chickens and the cabbage, Ochampa. Pay the man for his apples. +Enlist him and find him a mount." + +He rode away, leaving his subordinate to deal with the details. Major +Ochampa was the paymaster for the army as well as Secretary of the +Treasury for the Government of which Pasquale was the chief. His name +was on the very much-depreciated currency the insurgents had issued. + +Until recently Ochampa had been a small farmer himself. He bargained +shrewdly for the supplies, but in Cabenza he found a match. The man +haggled to the last cent and then called on Heaven to witness that he +had practically given away the goods for nothing. But when the sergeant +led him away to enlist he was beaming at the bargain he had made. + +Cabenza became at once an unobtrusive unit in the army. He could lie for +hours and bask in the sunshine with the patient content of the Mexican +peon. He could eat frijoles and tortillas week in and week out, offering +no complaint at the monotony of his diet. He was as lazy, as hopeful, +and as unambitious as several thousand other riders of the Legion. +Nobody paid the least attention to him except to require of him the not +very arduous duties of camp service. Presently Pasquale would move south +and renew the campaign. Meanwhile his troopers had an indolent, easy +time of it. + +On the evening of the day after his enlistment Pedro Cabenza strolled +across toward the prison where he had been told two Americans were held +captive. Two guards sat outside in front of the door and gossiped. +Cabenza, moved apparently by a desire for companionship, indifferently +drifted toward them. He sat down. Presently he produced a bottle +furtively. All three drank, to good health, to the success of the +revolution, a third time to the day when they should march, victorious +into the great city in the south. + +They became exhilarated. Cabenza found it necessary to work off his +excitement upon the prisoners. He stood on tiptoe, holding the window +bars in his hands, and jeered at the men within. + +"Ho, ho, Gringos! May the devil fly away with you! Food for powder--food +for powder! Some fine morning the general will give orders and--we shall +bury you in the sand by the river. Not so?" he scoffed in his own +language. + +One of the Americans within drew near the window. + +"Listen," he said. "Do you want to earn some money--ten--twenty--one +hundred dollars in gold? Will you take a letter for me to Los Robles?" + +"No. The general would skin me alive. I spit upon your offer. I throw +dirt upon you." + +Cabenza stooped, in his hand scooped up some dust from the ground, and +flung it between the bars. + +One of the guards pulled him back savagely. + +"Icabron! Know you not the orders of the general? None are to talk with +the Gringos. Away, fool! Because of the drink Pablo and I will forget. +Away!" + +Cabenza showed a face ludicrously terror-stricken. The punishments of +Pasquale were notoriously severe. If it were known he had broken the +command he would at least be beaten with whips. + +"I did not know. I did not know," he explained humbly, thrusting the +liquor bottle at one of them. "Here, companero, drink and forget that I +have spoken." + +He turned and scurried away into the darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +HARRISON OVERPLAYS HIS HAND + + +Through the barred window Farrar watched the guard drag Cabenza back. He +was very despondent. They had been prisoners now nearly a week and could +see no termination of their jail sentence in sight. The food given them +was wretched. They were anxious, dirty, and unkempt. Though he would not +admit it even to himself, the camera man was oppressed by the shadow of +a possible impending fate. The whim of a tyrant regardless of human life +might at any hour send them to a firing squad. + +Threewit sat gloomily on the stool, elbows on knees and chin resting on +his fists. He could have wept for himself almost without shame. For +forty-five years he had gone his safe way, a policeman always within +call. Not once had life in the raw reached out and gripped him. Not once +had he faced the stark probability of sudden, violent death. Clubs and +after-theater suppers and poker and golf had offered him pleasant +diversion. And now--a cruel fate had thrown him in the way of a +barbarian with no sense of either justice or kindness. He felt himself +too soft of fiber to cope with such elemental forces. + +"Look! What is that, Threewit?" + +Farrar was pointing to something on the table that gleamed white in the +moonlight. He stepped forward and picked it up. The article was a stone +around which was wrapped a paper tied by a string. + +"The Mexican must have thrown it in with the dirt. It wasn't there +before," replied the director quickly. + +Farrar untied the string and smoothed out the paper, holding it toward +the moonlight. "There's writing on it, but I can't make it out. Strike a +match for me." + +His companion struck on his trousers a match and the camera man read by +its glowing flame. + + Keep a stiff upper lip. Cactus Center is on the job. Don't know + when my chance will come, but I'm looking for it. _Chew this up._ + + S. Y. + +Farrar gave a subdued whoop of joy. "It's old Steve. He hasn't forgotten +us, good old boy. I'll bet he has got something up his sleeve." + +"Hope that greaser doesn't give us away to Pasquale or Harrison." + +"He won't. Trust Cactus Center. He's bridle-wise, that lad is. I feel a +lot better just to know he has got us on his mind." + +"What do you suppose he is planning?" + +"Don't know. Of course he has to lie low. But he pulled off his own +getaway and I'll back him to figure out ours." The camera man was +nothing if not a loyal admirer of the range-rider. + +They talked in whispers, eager and excited with the possibility of +rescue that had come. Somehow, of all the men they had known, they +banked more on Steve Yeager in such an emergency than any other. It was +not alone his physical vigor, though that counted, since it gave him so +complete a mastery over himself. Farrar had seen him once stripped in a +swimming-pool and been stirred to wonder. Beneath the satiny skin the +muscles moved in ripples. The biceps crawled back and forth like living +things, beautiful in the graceful flow of their movement. Whatever he +had done had been done easily, apparently without effort. This reserve +power was something more than a combination of bone and sinew and flesh. +It was a product of the spirit, a moral force to be reckoned with. It +helped to make impossible things easy of accomplishment. + + * * * * * + +The panic of Cabenza vanished as soon as he was out of sight of the +guards. As he turned down toward the sandy river-bed a little smile lay +in his eyes. + +From the place where it was buried beneath the root of a cottonwood, he +dug out a bandanna handkerchief containing several bottles, little +brushes, and a looking-glass. Sitting there in the moonlight, he worked +busily renewing the tints of his hands and face and also of the +coffee-colored patch of skin that peeped through his torn trouser leg. + +This done, he sauntered back to the little town and down the adobe +street. A horseman cantered up to the headquarters of the general just +as Pasquale stepped out with Culvera. The latter snapped his fingers +toward Cabenza and that trooper ran forward. + +"Hold the horse," ordered the officer in Mexican. + +Cabenza relieved the messenger, who stepped forward and delivered what +had been given him to say. The hearing of the man holding the horse was +acute and he listened intently. + +"Senor Harrison sends greeting to the general. He is in touch with the +play-actor Lennox and hopes soon to get the Gringo Yeager. If Lennox +plays false...." + +The words ran into a murmur and Cabenza could hear no more. + +The messenger was dismissed. Cabenza stooped to tie a loose lace in his +shoe. Pasquale and Culvera passed back from the end of the porch into +the house. As they went the trooper heard another stray fragment in the +voice of the general. + +"If Harrison crosses the line after him at night...." + +That was all, but it told Cabenza that Harrison was negotiating with +Lennox for the delivery of Yeager in exchange for Threewit and Farrar. +The leading man was, of course, playing for time until Steve, under the +guise of Cabenza, could arrange to win the freedom of the prisoners. + +This would take time, for success would depend upon several dove-tailing +factors. To attempt a rescue and to fail would be practically to sign +the death-warrant of Farrar and Threewit. + +Yeager, alias Cabenza, returned to the stable where he and a score of +patriots of the Northern Legion had sleeping-quarters. He would much +have preferred to take his blankets out into the pure night air and to +bed under the stars. But he was playing his part thoroughly. He could +not afford to be nice or scrupulous, for fear of calling special +attention to himself. + +As for the peons beside him, they snored peacefully without regard to +the lack of cleanliness of their bedroom. The first day of his arrival +Yeager had knocked a hole in the flimsy wall and had given it out as +the result of a chance kick of a bronco. This served to let air into a +building which had no other means of ventilation. It also allowed some +small percentage of the various concentrated odors to escape. + +The Arizonian was a light sleeper. But like some men in perfect trim he +had the faculty of going to sleep whenever he desired. Often he had +taken a nap in the saddle while night-herding. Fatigued from eighteen +hours of wrestling the cattle to safety through a bitter storm, he had +learned to fall easily into rest the instant his head hit the pillow. It +was a heritage that had come to him from his rugged, outdoor life. So he +slept now, a gentle, untroubled slumber, until daylight sifted through +the hole in the wall at his side. + +He was on duty that day herding the remuda, and it was not until late +afternoon that he returned to camp. From a distance, dropping down into +the draw which formed the location of the town, he saw a dust cloud +moving down the street. At the apex of it rode a little bunch of +travelers, evidently just in from the desert. Incuriously his eyes +watched the party as it moved toward the headquarters of Pasquale. Some +impulse led him to put his scarecrow of a pony at a canter. + +The party reached the house of Pasquale and the two leaders dismounted. +Yeager was still at some distance, but he had an uncertain impression +that one of them was a woman. They stood on the porch talking. The +larger one seemed to be overruling the protest of the other, so far as +Steve could tell at that distance. The two passed together into the +house. + +It was not at all unusual for women to go into that house, according to +the camp-fire stories that were whispered in the army. Pasquale was an +unmoral old barbarian. If he liked women and wine the Legion made no +complaint. The women were either camp-followers or visitors from the +nearest town. In either case they were not of a sort whose reputation +was likely to suffer. + +Yeager cooked his simple supper and ate it. He sat down with his back to +an adobe wall and rolled a cigarette. The peons, loafing in the cool of +the evening, naturally fell into gossip. Steve, intent on his own +thoughts, did not hear what was said until a word snatched him out of +his indifference. The word was the name of Harrison. + +"This afternoon?" asked one. + +"Not an hour ago." + +"Brought a woman with him, Pablo says," said a third indifferently. + +"Yes." The first speaker laughed with an implication he did not care to +express. + +One of the others leaned forward and spoke in a lower tone. "This +Harrison promised the general to bring back with him the Gringo Yeager. +Old Gabriel is crazy to get the Yankee devil in his hands. Not so? +Harrison brings him a woman instead to soften his bad temper, maybe." + +The American gave no sign of interest. His fingers finished rolling the +cigarette. Not another muscle of the inert body moved. + +"A white woman this time, Pablo says." + +The first speaker shrugged. "Look you, brother. All is grist that comes +to the mill of Gabriel. As for these Gringo women"--He whispered a bit +of slander that brought the blood to the face of Steve. + +The peons guffawed with delight. This kind of joke was adapted both to +their prejudices and their lack of intelligence. They were as ignorant +of the world as children, fully as gay, irresponsible, and kindhearted. +But they had, too, a capacity for cruelty and frank sensuousness that +belongs only to the childhood of a race. + +Presently Yeager arose, yawned, and drifted inconspicuously toward the +stable that had been converted into a bedroom by the simple process of +throwing a lot of blankets on the floor. But as soon as he was out of +sight, Steve doubled across the road into the alley that ran back of the +house where Pasquale was putting up. + +The news about Harrison's return was disquieting. Ever since Yeager's +second arrival at Noche Buena he had been gone. What did his appearance +now mean? Who was the American woman he had brought back with him? Steve +was inclined to think she was probably some one of the man's dubious +acquaintances from Arixico. But of this he intended to make sure. + +He passed quietly up the alley and into the yard back of the big house +the insurgent general had appropriated for his headquarters. A light was +shining from one of the back upper rooms. From it, too, there came +faintly the sound of a voice, high and frightened, in which sobs and +hysteria struggled. + +By means of a post the Arizonian climbed to the top of the little back +porch. Leaning as far as he could toward the window of the lighted room, +he could see Pasquale and Harrison. The woman, whoever she might be, was +in the corner of the room beyond his vision. The prizefighter showed +both in face and manner a certain stiff sullenness. He was insisting +upon some point to which there was determined opposition. As the general +turned half toward him once, the range-rider saw in his little black +eyes an alert and greedy cunning he did not understand. + +The woman broke out into violent protest. + +"I won't do it. I won't. If you are a liberator, as they say you are, +you won't let him force me to it, general, will you?" + +At the sound of that voice Yeager's heart jumped. He would have known +it among ten thousand. Little beads of perspiration broke out on his +forehead. The primitive instinct to kill seared across his brain and +left him for the moment dizzy and trembling. + +There was a grin on Pasquale's ugly mug. His tobacco-stained teeth +showed behind the lifted lips. + +"If young ladies will insist on running away with officers of mine--" + +"I didn't. Ask the men. I fought. See where I bit his hand," she +protested, fighting against hysterical fears. + +"So? But Senor Harrison says you were engaged to him." + +"I hate him. I've found him out. I'd rather die than--" + +Yeager caught the arm fling that concluded her sentence of passionate +protest. + +Pasquale, little black eyes twinkling, shrugged broad shoulders and +turned to Harrison. + +"You see. The lady has changed her mind, senor. What will you?" + +"What's that got to do with it? She's mine. Send for a priest and have +us married," the other man demanded bluntly. + +"Not so fast, amigo," remonstrated Pasquale softly. "Give her time--a +few days--quien sabe?--she may change her mind again." + +Harrison choked on his anger. He was suspicious of this suavity, of this +sudden respect for a girl's wishes. Since when had the old despot become +so scrupulous as to risk offending one who had served him a good deal +and might aid him in more serious matters? The prizefighter could guess +only one reason for the general's attitude. His jealousy began to smoke +at once. + +"She can change her mind afterward just as well. If we're married now, +then I'm sure of her," the prizefighter insisted doggedly. + +Impulsively the girl swept into that part of the room within the view of +Steve. She knelt in front of Pasquale and caught at his hand. + +"Send me home--back to my mother. I'm only a girl. You don't make war on +girls, do you?" she pleaded. + +Had she only known it, the very sweetness of her troubled youth, the +shadows under the starry eyes edging the wild-rose cheeks, the allure of +her lines and soft flesh, fought potently against her desire for a +safe-conduct home. The greedy, treacherous little eyes of the insurgent +chief glittered. + +He shook his head. "No, senorita. That is not possible. But you shall +stay here--under the protection of Gabriel Pasquale himself. You shall +have choice--Senor Harrison if you wish, another if you prefer it so. +Take time. Perhaps--who knows?" He smiled and bowed with the gallantry +of a bear as he kissed her hand. + +"No--no. I want to go home," she sobbed. + +"Young ladies don't always know what is best for them. Behold, we shall +marry you to a soldier, one of rank. From the general down, you shall +have choice," Pasquale promised largely. + +Harrison scowled. He did not at all like the turn things were taking. +"Not as long as I'm alive," he said savagely. "She's mine, I tell you." + +The Mexican looked directly at him with a face as hard as jade. "So you +don't expect to live long, senor. Is that it? We shall all mourn. Yes, +indeed." He turned decisively to the white-faced girl. "Go to sleep, +muchacha. To-morrow we shall talk. Gabriel Pasquale is your friend. All +shall be well with you. None shall insult you on peril of his life. +Buenos!" + +With a gesture of his hand he pointed the door to Harrison. + +The eyes of the two men clashed stormily. It was those of the American +that finally gave way sulkily. Pasquale had power to enforce his +commands and the other knew he would not hesitate to use it. + +The prizefighter slouched out of the room with the general at his heels. + +With a little gesture that betrayed the despair of her sick heart the +girl turned and flung herself face down on the bed. Sobs shook her +slender body. Her fingers clutched unconsciously at the rough weave of +the blanket upon which she lay. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE TEXAN + + +Steve tapped gently on the window pane with the ball of his middle +finger. Instantly the sobbing was interrupted. The black head of hair +lifted from the pillow to listen the better. He could guess how +fearfully the heart of the girl was beating. + +Again he tapped on the glass. With a lithe twist of her body the girl +sat up on the bed. She waited tensely for a repetition of the sound, not +quite sure from where it had come. + +Her questing eyes found at last the source of it, a warning forefinger +close to the pane that seemed to urge for silence. Rising, she moved +slowly to the window, uneasy, doubtful, yet with hope beginning to stir +at her heart. She formed a cup for her eyes with her palms so as to hold +back the light while she peered through the glass into the darkness +without. + +Over to the left she made out the contour of a face, a brown Mexican +face with quick, eager eyes that spoke comfort to her. Her first thought +was that it belonged to a friend. Hard on the heels of that she gave a +little cry of joy and began with trembling fingers to raise the window. + +"Steve!" she cried, laughing and crying together. + +And as soon as she had adjusted the window she caught his hand between +both of hers and pressed it hard. Steve was here. He would save her as +he had before. She was all right now. + +"Ruth! Little Ruth!" he cried softly, in a whisper. + +"Did you hear? Do you know?" she asked. + +"Only that he brought you here, the hellhound, and that Pasquale--" + +He stopped, his sentence unfinished. There was no need to alarm her +about that old philanderer. Time enough for that if she scratched the +surface and found the savage beneath. + +"--Won't let me go home," she finished for him. + +"But what are you doing here? How did Harrison trap you?" + +"I had been strolling with Daisy Ellington after supper. It was not +late--hardly dark yet. She stopped at the hotel to talk with Miss +Winters and I started to walk home alone. I took the short cut across +the empty block just below Brinker's. He was waiting among the +cottonwoods there--he and two Mexicans. As soon as he stepped into the +light I was afraid." + +"Why didn't you cry out?" + +"I didn't like to make a scene about nothing. And after that first +moment I had no time. He caught hold of me and put his hand across my +mouth. Horses were there ready saddled. He lifted me in front of him and +kept my mouth covered till we were clear of the town. It didn't matter +how much I screamed when we had reached the desert." + +"I didn't think even Harrison had the nerve to kidnap an Arizona girl +and bring her across the line. If he had happened to meet a bunch of +cowpunchers--" + +"He didn't start after me. It was you he wanted. But he found out you +weren't in town and took me instead. All the way down he talked about +you--boasted how he would marry me in spite of you and how he would take +you and have Pasquale flay you alive." + +Yeager lifted a warning finger. "Remember you have a friend here. +Good-night." + +He lowered himself quickly, slid down the porch post, and disappeared +into the darkness almost instantly. + +Ruth heard voices. One gave commands, the others answered mildly with +"Si, Excellency." Dim figures moved about below, one heavy, bulky, +dominating. He gestured, snapped out curt directions, and presently +vanished. Two guards were left. They paced up and down beneath her +window. She understood that Pasquale was providing against any chance of +escape. Half an hour ago she would have shuddered. Now she could even +smile faintly at his precautions. Steve would evade them when the right +time came. + +Her confidence in him, since it looked only to the results, was greater +than that he felt in his own power. The range-rider saw the difficulties +before him. He was alone in a camp of wild, ignorant natives who moved +at the nod of Pasquale. When he let himself think of Ruth as a prisoner +at the mercy of that savage old outlaw's whim, the heart of Steve failed +him. What could one man do against so many? + +He felt that she was perfectly safe for the present, but Yeager found it +impossible to sleep in the stable. Taking his blankets with him, he +slipped noiselessly out to the cottonwood clump back of Pasquale's +headquarters. Here, at least, he could see the light in her window and +be sure that all was well with her. + +As he moved noiselessly from one tree to another which gave a better +view of the window, Steve stumbled against the prostrate body of a man. + +Some one ripped out a sullen oath and a grip of steel caught at the +ankle of the cowpuncher. + +Taken by surprise, Yeager was dragged to the ground. + +"What are you doing here?" demanded a voice Steve recognized instantly +as belonging to Harrison. + +The prisoner made no resistance. He ran into a patter of frightened, +apologetic Spanish. + +"What's your name?" + +"Pedro Cabenza, senor," replied the owner of that name. "It is so hot in +the stable. So I bring my blankets here and sleep." + +"Hmp!" Harrison took time for reflection. "Know where I put up?" + +"Si, senor." + +The prizefighter gave him a dollar. "Stay here. Keep an eye on that +lighted window upstairs. If anything happens--if you hear a noise--if a +woman screams, come and knock me up right away. Understand?" + +The docile Cabenza repeated his instructions like a parrot. + +"Good enough," Harrison nodded. "I'll give you another dollar when you +come. But don't wake me for nothing." + +"No, senor." + +"And you'd better keep your mouth shut unless you want your head beat +off," advised the white man as he left. + +The one who had given his name as Cabenza grinned to himself. He was +now Harrison's hired watcher. Both of them were in league to frustrate +any deviltry on the part of Pasquale. He wondered what the prizefighter +would give to know that he had his enemy so wholly in his power, that he +had only to lay hands on him and cry out to doom him to a painful and a +violent death. + +Yeager dozed and wakened and dozed again. Always when he looked the +light was still burning. Toward morning he saw the figure of Ruth in the +window. When she turned away the light went out. He judged she had put +her anxieties from her and given herself to sleep at last. But not until +the camp began to stir with the renewal of life for another day did he +leave his post and return to the stable. + +During the morning he slept under a cottonwood and made up arrears of +rest lost while on guard. About noon Harrison came down the street and +stopped at sight of him. The man was livid with anger. Yeager could +guess the reason. He had spent a stormy ten minutes with old Pasquale +demanding his rights and had issued from the encounter without profit. +From the place where Steve was sitting he had heard the high, excited +voices. It had occurred to him that the protest of Harrison had gone +about as far as it could be safely carried, for Gabriel was both a +ruthless and a hot-tempered despot. + +Harrison sat down sullenly without speaking and stared straight in front +of him. He was boiling with impotent fury. Pasquale had the whip hand +and meant to carry things his own way. Of that he no longer had any +doubt. In bringing Ruth to Noche Buena he had made a great mistake. + +"Do you want to make some money, you--what's your name?" he presently +rasped out. + +Yeager answered with the universal formula of the land. "Si, senor. And +my name is Cabenza--Pedro Cabenza." + +The prizefighter glanced warily around, then lowered his voice. "I mean +a lot of money--twenty dollars, maybe." + +"Gold?" asked the peon, wide-eyed. + +"Gold. How far would you go to earn that much?" + +"A long way, senor." + +Harrison caught him by the wrist with a grip that drove the blood back. +"Listen, Cabenza. _Would you go as far as the camp of Garcia Farrugia?_" +The close-gripped, salient jaw was thrust forward. Black eyes blazed +from a set, snarling face. + +So, after all, the man was trafficking with the Federal governor all the +time just as he was with the Constitutionalists. Yeager had once or +twice suspected as much. + +"To the camp of Governor Farrugia," gasped Cabenza. "But--what for, +senor?" + +"To carry him a letter. Never mind what for. You will get your pay. Is +it not enough?" + +"And--Pasquale?" + +"Need never know. You can slip away this afternoon and be back by +to-morrow night." + +Cabenza shook his head regretfully. "No. I am one of the horse +wranglers. My boss would miss me if I was not here. I cannot go." + +The other man swore. At the same time he recognized the argument as +effective. He must find a messenger who could absent himself without +stirring up questions. + +"Then keep your mouth clamped," ordered Harrison. "I may be able to use +you here. Anyhow, I want you to be ready to help if I need you." + +He slipped a dollar into the brown palm of the peon and left him. + +Steve looked after him with narrowed eyes. "Mr. Harrison is liable to +bump into trouble if he don't look out. He's gone crazy with the heat, +looks like. First thing, he'll pick on the wrong greaser and Mr. +Messenger will take the letter to Pasquale instead of Farrugia. That's +about what'll happen." + +Something else happened first, however, that distracted the attention of +Mr. Yeager, alias Cabenza, from this regrettable possibility. A man +rode into camp, followed by a Mexican leading a pack-horse. The first +rider was straight, tall, and wide-shouldered; also he was deep-chested +and lean-loined, forty-five or thereabout, and had "Texan" written all +over his weather-beaten face and costume. At sight of him Steve gave a +silent whoop of joy. A white man had come to Noche Buena, a Texan (he +was ready to swear), and he wore his big serviceable six-guns low. Also, +he carried on his face and in his bearing the look of reckless +competence that comes only from death faced in the open fearlessly and +often. + +Inside of five minutes Cabenza had gathered information as follows: Adam +Holcomb was a soldier of fortune who had fought all over South America +and Mexico. During the Spanish War he had been a Rough Rider in Cuba and +later had been a volunteer officer in the Philippines. The army routine +had no attraction for him. What he liked was actual fighting. So the +outbreak of the Revolution had drawn him across the border, where he had +done much to lick the Constitutionalist troops into shape. Now he had +come to Noche Buena to teach the artillery of the Legion how to shoot +straight, after which they would all march south and take the great city +with the golden gates. Personally this Gringo was a devil, of course, +but Pasquale was a prince of devils whose business it was to keep all +lesser ones in order. So, in the Spanish equivalent of our American +slang, they should worry. Thus a comrade explained the Texan and his +presence to Pedro. + +Cabenza contrived to be in the way when someone was wanted to fill the +water-jug of Holcomb. Ochampa, who for the moment had charge of the +artillery officer, swooped down upon the peon and put him temporarily at +the service of his guest to fetch and carry at his orders. So Pedro +unpacked the belongings of the American officer and prepared what had to +serve as the substitute for a bath. He was so adept at this that the +captain privately decided to requisition him for his servant. + +Having finished this and laid out towels, Cabenza brushed the boots of +the captain outside while that gentleman splashed within the cabin. He +chose the time while he was arranging the shaving-outfit on the table to +convey a piece of information to Holcomb. + +"What's that? An American woman--held captive at his house by Pasquale," +repeated the soldier of fortune, astonished. + +"A girl, not a woman. About eighteen, maybe," supplemented Cabenza, in +Mexican, of course. + +"A woman from the street, I reckon. And if you look into it you'll find +she's here of her own free will." + +Steve was now stropping a razor. His back was toward the officer, but +without turning he could see him by looking in the glass. + +"You've got the wrong steer, captain. She's as straight a girl as ever +lived," answered Yeager in perfectly good English. + +Holcomb sat up straight. "Turn round, my man," he ordered crisply. + +The range-rider did as he was told. The light, blue-gray eyes of the +officer bored into his. + +"You're no Mexican," charged the Texan. + +"No. Arizona is where I hang up my hat." + +"What are you, then? A spy?" + +"I reckon, maybeso." Steve admitted the thrust lightly. "Got time to +hear all about it, captain?" + +"Go ahead." + +The range-rider told it, the whole story, so far as it could be related +by him. Such details as his modesty omitted Holcomb's imagination was +easily able to supply. + +The Texan paced up and down the room with the long, light, military +stride. + +"And you say Pasquale has been with her all day--that he ate lunch with +her and is riding with her now?" + +"Yes. Just watch his eyes when he looks at her if you're in doubt about +the old villain. There's a tiger look in them, and something else that's +worse." Yeager chanced to glance out of the window. "Here they come now +back from their ride. Why not meet them as they alight?" + +The captain reached for his hat and led the way down the street. Cabenza +followed him, a step or two in the rear. They reached headquarters just +as Pasquale lifted Ruth from the saddle. He held her for a moment in his +strong arms and grinned down at her frightened, fascinated eyes. + +"Adios, chatita!" he murmured, his little eyes dancing with triumph. + +She fled from him into the house, terror giving speed to her limbs. + +Upon Holcomb the dictator turned eyes that had grown cold and harsh +again. + +"Welcome, captain, welcome, to the Northern Legion," he said brusquely, +offering a gauntleted hand. + +They went into the house together, Pasquale's arm across the shoulder of +the Texan. + +"Dios, I'm glad to see you, captain," the insurgent chief ran on +quickly. "This riff-raff of mine can't hit a hillside. Hammer the +artillery into shape and I'll say gracias." + +"Yes. I see you have a countrywoman of mine visiting you," the American +said quietly. + +"From Arizona." The Mexican laughed harshly. "We should get together +more, your country and mine. We should bind the States and the Republic +together by closer ties. A man without a wife is but a half man. +Captain, I shall marry." + +It was common knowledge of the camp that in his outlaw days Pasquale had +a wife and family. The sons were grown up now. The rumor ran that the +wife had found a more congenial mate and was separated from Gabriel by +common agreement. Holcomb made no reference to this free-and-easy +arrangement. + +"Congratulations, general. Is the lady some high-born senorita?" + +"The lady you have just seen is my choice--the young woman from +Arizona," answered Pasquale, flashing from under his heavy grizzled +brows a sharp, questioning look at the Texan. + +"Indeed! I shall be happy to meet the lady and wish her joy," replied +Holcomb lightly. + +"You shall, captain. She's a little reluctant yet, but Gabriel has a way +of overcoming that. I shall be married on Saturday." + +"Ah!" + +The face of the Texan had as much expression as a piece of flint. +Pasquale, watching him warily, wondered what he was thinking behind +those hard, steel-gray eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +NEAR THE END OF HIS TRAIL + + +Harrison strode up and down the room furiously. "Who in Mexico is this +Pasquale?" he demanded, and then answered his own question: "Scum of the +earth, a peon whipped for stealing whiskey, a hill robber and murderer. +In my country they'd take the scoundrel and hang him by the neck." + +"True, amigo,--all true," assented Culvera suavely, examining his +cigarette as he spoke. "But it is well to remember that walls have ears, +and therefore to whisper--when one speaks of Gabriel." + +"I'm not afraid of him," boasted the American, but his voice fell. + +"I am," differed Culvera frankly. "Ramon is fond of Ramon, so he chooses +a safe time to pay his debts--and he does not advertise in advance that +he is going to settle." + +"Bah! You sit still and do nothing. But I--By God! I'll not stand it. He +has given it out he will be married Saturday. We'll see about that. +Maybe he'll be buried that day instead." + +The dark eyes of the Mexican swept him with a sidelong glance. If he +could do it without incurring responsibility himself, he was very +willing to spur on the fierce passion of this man. + +"Be careful, senor. Pasquale is dangerous." + +"You know he is dangerous--to Ramon Culvera. Why don't you strike and be +done with it?" + +"The time is not ripe. Some day--perhaps--" He let a shrug of his +shoulders finish the sentence for him. + +"It's always manana with you Mexicans," sneered Harrison with a savage +lift of the lip. "You want to play it safe all the time. Why don't you +take a chance?" + +"I play my own cards, senor," returned Ramon equably. + +"You play 'em darned close to your stomach. Me, I go out on a limb oncet +in a while." + +"Be sure you don't stay out there--at the end of a rope," smiled the +Mexican. + +"They haven't grown the hemp yet that will hang Chad Harrison." The +prizefighter leaned toward him, eyes shining. "If I pull it off and make +my getaway--what then? Will you send the girl to me, wherever I am?" + +"You mean, if you--" + +"--Give Pasquale what's been coming to him for a long time." + +The eyes of Culvera were slits of light. His face was a brown mask that +covered an alert and wary attention. + +"I didn't hear what you said, amigo. It is better that I shouldn't. But +if I had charge of the army instead of General Pasquale my policy would +be different. I would return this Arizona girl to her home." + +"To her home!" broke in Harrison harshly. + +"To her husband," amended the Mexican significantly, adding after an +instant--"who is a good friend of mine." + +"You'll stand pat on that, will you?" + +"It would be my purpose to reward my friends--those who have helped the +cause--if by any chance command of the Legion should fall to me." + +Harrison glared at him suspiciously. "You're so smooth I don't know +whether I can believe you or not. You'd sell your own father out for the +right price." + +"I pay my debts, senor--both kinds," suggested the Mexican, unmoved at +this outburst. + +"See that you do." + +"Be sure I shall, amigo," returned Culvera, looking straight at him from +narrowed eyes that told nothing. + +The prizefighter took another turn up and down the room. He was anxious +and harassed as well as driven hard by hatred and jealousy. + +"The wolf is having me watched. His orders are that I'm not to be +allowed to leave camp. I don't get any chance to see him alone. If you +ask me, I think he's fixing to have me knifed in the dark," Harrison +burst out. + +"Shouldn't wonder," agreed the young officer with a pleasant smile. He +lived in an atmosphere where such things were not uncommon, and on +occasion could take a hand himself. + +"Fat lot you care," complained the photoplay actor sullenly. "You +wouldn't lift a hand to save your pardner." + +Culvera patted him on the shoulder cheerfully. "What can I do? Do I not +live under the shadow myself? Can I tell when the knife will fall on me? +He is without bowels of mercy, this son of a thief. But this I know: if +you are watched, you must not stay here. Gabriel will be suspicious lest +we are plotting something against him. Good luck, amigo." + +The heavyweight took away with him a heavy heart. He had reached the +stage where his hand was against that of every man. Culvera he did not +trust at all out of his sight beyond the point where the interests of +the young Mexican were parallel to his. In the whole camp he had no +friend, not even the girl for whom he fought. As for Pasquale, Harrison +had told the truth. He believed the general had doomed him. Unless he +struck first, he was a lost man. Why had he been fool enough to boast +to the old scoundrel what he would do? His temper had robbed him of the +chance to kill and then escape. + +He passed down the street toward the river. A dozen boys and young men +sat in the shadow of the adobe wall that fronted the road opposite one +of the corrals. It chanced that Harrison dropped his handkerchief at +this point and stooped to pick it up. + +Thirty minutes later a barefooted youth came down to the river carrying +an olla for water. Harrison lay sleeping under a cottonwood that edged +the trail. One arm was outstretched so that the closed fist lay almost +across the path. + +The soldier boy whistled gayly as he walked. Oddly enough, just as he +reached the sleeping Gringo, the outflung arm lifted abruptly from the +ground for an inch or two. A little package shot four feet up into the +air and was caught deftly by the barefoot trooper as it descended. + +The lips of Harrison barely moved. "Ride to-night, Enrique. Colonel +Farrugia will also reward you well." + +"Si, senor," nodded Enrique, and went on his way. + +The face of the boy was toward the camp on the return journey. The +American was still fast asleep. The lad went whistling past him without +any sign of recognition. + +Several times during the next hour Harrison took a long pull from a +bottle he carried in his coat pocket. After a time he rose and walked +heavily down the main street of the village until he came to the house +where Captain Holcomb had been put up. + +The Texan was sitting on his porch smoking a pipe. Behind him, a few +feet away, Cabenza was cleaning a rifle for his new master. + +"I wanta talk to you about something, Captain Holcomb," announced the +film actor. + +The soldier looked at him steadily. "Go to it," he ordered curtly. + +"This is private business." + +Holcomb did not turn his head or raise his voice. "Pedro, vamos." + +The feet of Cabenza could be heard hitting the dust as he vanished +around the corner of the house. + +Without beating around the bush Harrison came to his subject. He jerked +a thumb over his right shoulder. + +"It's that girl up at the house there I want to talk about." + +"What about her?" + +"He's got no business keeping her there. She's a straight girl." + +"Is she?" + +"Yes, sir. She is." + +"Then why did you bring her here?" Holcomb's question was like the +thrust of a sword. + +"Because I was a fool." + +"Better give things their right names. You were a damned villain." + +A dull flush rose to the cheeks of the prizefighter. "All right. Let it +go at that. I guess you're right. What I want to know now is whether +you're going to stand for Pasquale's play. He's got one wife +already--half a dozen, far as I know. You going to let him put this +wedding farce over without a kick?" + +"Can I stop it?" + +"You can register a roar, can't you?" + +"Would it do any good? Did yours?" + +"You're different. He needs you to drill this ragged bunch of hoboes he +calls an army. Pasquale has a lot of respect for you. He talked a lot +about you before you came." + +"If you want to know, I've already spoken to him about it." + +"What did he say?" + +"Gave me to understand that if I'd attend to my business he'd mind his. +And I'm going to do it," concluded Holcomb with sharp decision. + +"You mean you're going to lie down like a yellow dog and quit, that +you'll let this wolf take that lamb and ruin her life! Is that what you +mean?" + +Holcomb sat forward in his chair, so that his strong, lean, sunburnt +face was as close to the other man as possible. "You talk both like a +coward and a fool. You brought the girl here against her will. If +Pasquale had been willing to let you force her into a marriage with you, +I wouldn't have heard a squeal out of you. But he butted in. He took her +from you. Now you come hollering to me, you quitter. Instead of fighting +it out to a finish, you run to me. Talk about yellow curs. Faugh!" + +"What can I do?" exploded Harrison in a rage. "He has four men watching +her room at night now. Every time I move his cursed spies follow me. +There are two of them over there now. Pasquale won't even let me see +him. He's aimin' to have me killed, I believe." + +"Serve you right," the soldier of fortune flung at him as he rose from +his chair. "Killing is none too good for your kind. Pity some one didn't +stamp you out before you brought that little girl down here to this sink +of perdition." + +Harrison swallowed down his anger. "That's all right. I'll stand for it. +If I didn't believe it myself, you'd have a heluvatime getting away with +such talk. But it goes just as you lay it down. I'm a skunk and all the +rest of it. Now, listen! I ain't such a four-flusher as to lay down my +hand before I've played it out. See! I'm not through with Gabriel +Pasquale. Watch my smoke. Him and me hasn't come to a settlement yet." + +"Sounds to me like whiskey talk," answered the Texan scornfully. "Men +who do the kind of things you have done don't have the guts to play out +a losing game." + +"Some do, some don't. By your reputation you're game. All right. Keep +your eyes open, captain." + +Snarling, the man turned away and walked down the street. Holcomb +watched him go. There was something purposeful in the way the +heavyweight moved. Perhaps, after all, he would make a fighting finish +of it. The captain fervently hoped he would drag old Pasquale down with +him before they wiped him off the map. But he knew the betting odds were +all the other way. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A STAGE PREPARED FOR TRAGEDY + + +Not knowing when his opportunity might come, Harrison kept his horse +saddled most of the time. He knew that extra mounted patrols were kept +at the ends of the streets and at other points on the mesa surrounding +the town, and that he would have to take a chance of being able to run +the gauntlet in safety. If luck favored him, he might win past these. +For one thing the Mexicans were very poor shots, a little the worst he +had ever seen. It might be, too, that he would have darkness in his +favor, though he could not count on this. + +By Enrique he had sent to Governor Farrugia a map of the camp, giving +detailed information as to the number and position of the troops and +showing from what direction the camp could best be attacked. In his +letter he had urged immediate action, on the ground that a part of the +men were absent with Major Ochampa on a foraging expedition. If Farrugia +rose to the occasion, he hoped in the confusion of the assault to escape +with Ruth. + +Meanwhile he waited, and the hours slipped away. It was now Friday +noon, and the wedding was to be Saturday morning. + +Four denim-clad troopers and a sergeant marched raggedly down the street +and stopped in front of Harrison's adobe house. + +"The general wishes to see the senor," explained the sergeant. + +The American knew the crucial hour had come. This was the first move of +Pasquale in the programme to destroy him. He made no protest, but +stepped forward at once, leading his horse by the bridle. The sergeant +was a little dubious about the horse, but his orders did not cover the +point and he made no objection. + +Pasquale was standing in front of his house on the porch, bow legs wide +apart and hands crossed behind his back. Harrison stopped directly in +front of him. The soldiers moved back a dozen yards. + +"Well," demanded the heavyweight. + +"I sent for you to explain something to me, sir," said the Mexican +general harshly. + +"What is it?" + +"This letter and map." + +Pasquale stepped forward, handed two papers to Harrison, and quickly +stepped back till his back was against the wall of the house. Something +in his manner stirred the banked suspicions of the American. Already his +nerves were keyed to unusual tension, for he knew the moment of crux +was hurrying toward him. Why had the troopers fallen back so far? Why +was Pasquale so anxious to put a wide space between himself and his +prisoner? + +The eyes of the film actor, clouded with doubt of what was about to take +place, fell to the papers in his hand. He was looking at the letter and +the map he had sent to Governor Farrugia. + +Instantly his mind was made up. But as the blue barrel of his revolver +flashed into sight there came the simultaneous roar of a volley. The +force of it seemed to lift Harrison from his feet. Before his sagging +knees had touched the dust the man was dead. + +Pasquale drew a forty-five and fired three times into the lax and +huddled body. He nodded to the men in the smoke-filled windows upstairs. + +"Come down and bury this Gringo dog's body," he ordered. + +They trooped down noisily. Pasquale kicked the body carelessly with his +toe. "He was a traitor to the cause. The proof is in that paper. Hand it +to me, Juan." + +The general read the letter aloud. "He would have betrayed us all but +for the patriotism of a messenger who would not be bribed. The man +deserved death. Not so?" + +They shouted approval and added, "Viva Pasquale!" in an enthusiastic +roar. Ramon Culvera, who had just arrived on the scene, led the cheering +with much vigor. + +From every house men, boys, and women poured. The streets filled with +noisy patriots. Guns popped here and there to ventilate the energy of +their owners. Troopers galloped up and down the road in clouds of dust +shooting into the air as they rode. Boys who would have run their legs +off to obey a whim of Harrison spat contemptuously upon the face of the +"Gringo cabrone." + +Drawn by the hubbub, Captain Holcomb hurried from his house. He looked +down at the lifeless body four soldiers were carrying away and turned to +Pasquale for an explanation. + +The general handed him the papers that proved Harrison's guilt. "I have +executed a traitor, captain. The dog would have sold us out to Farrugia. +Is his punishment not just?" + +Holcomb looked the papers over and handed them back to his chief. "He +got what was coming to him," he answered quietly. + +"I have witnesses to show that he was drawing his revolver to +assassinate me at the very moment he was shot. My men were just in +time." + +"It was fortunate for you your men happened to be so handy," replied +the American officer with just a suggestion of dryness. + +For Holcomb knew, just as Yeager did, that the scene had been set by +Pasquale for the killing. His men had been stationed in the windows +above, unknown to the victim. The heavyweight had been tempted to reach +for his weapon by the certainty that he had come to the end of the +passage. Doing so, he had given the signal for his own death. Had he +failed to do this, the Mexican general would have sprung the trap +himself in another minute. Fortunately this had not been necessary. +Pasquale was in a position to prove to the United States Government, in +case it became inquisitive, that when the man had been confronted with +his guilt he had tried to kill him and had been shot down red-handed. + +Half an hour later Holcomb came into his house and found Steve cleaning +a pair of revolvers. The captain tossed his hat on the bed and sat down. + +"Up to us, looks like," he commented. + +Yeager nodded silently. + +"Harrison hadn't a look-in. The old scoundrel had the cards stacked," +continued the officer. + +"Yep. Chad sat in against a cold deck. He made a big mistake when he let +the old man take the play." + +"Everything fixed for to-night?" + +"Far as it can be. We've just got to take a big chance and trust to luck +being with us," answered Steve. + +"Guess you'll have to make your own luck. I spoke to Pasquale about a +game here to-night. He grabbed at the bait. Said he would bring Culvera +and Ochampa. I'll make a long session of it so as to give you all the +time you need." + +"Better have a boy here to serve the liquor and cigars. If you should +hear shooting, and Gabriel gets anxious about it, you can send the boy +to find out what it's about. That will give us a few minutes more to get +away." + +"Sure your dope is strong enough?" + +"The man who fixed it ought to know. He's a registered druggist at +Phoenix," replied the range-rider. + +Yeager had never before sat in the anxious seat as nervously as he did +during the next few hours. His nature was not of the kind to borrow +trouble. Usually he could accept responsibility without letting it worry +him. But to-night he was playing for big stakes--his own life certainly +was in the hazard, probably those of Farrar and Threewit, possibly that +of the Texan. And what weighed with him more than all these was the fate +of the young girl in the back room upstairs waiting with a leaden heart +for this dreadful thing that was to befall her. It was in the game that +a man must take his fighting chance. But a girl--and above all girls +Ruth--the thought of it stabbed his heart like a knife. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A CONSPIRACY + + +In settling accounts with Harrison the Mexican general had prepared the +scene, had arranged every detail of it carefully so as to eliminate any +possible chance the heavyweight might otherwise have. Yeager had no +intention of letting Pasquale fix the conditions against him as he had +against the prizefighter. + +"Old Gabriel was holding four aces and Chad only a busted flush. +Pasquale knew it all the time. Harrison must 'a' guessed it too. But if +he did, I don't see why he waited for the old man to spring his trap," +said Steve. + +"It's a matter of temperament, I reckon. Some fellows are game enough +when you put 'em up against trouble good and hard, but they hang back +and wait for it to come to 'em. I expect Harrison didn't know how to +play his hand. Looked that way to me when he talked with me. Likely he +figured he had better wait and see what happened," surmised the captain. + +"He waited too long." + +"Till it was too late to call for a new deal. He had to play those dealt +him." + +"Different here. We'll do the dealing ourselves, captain. Pasquale has +been through the deck and taken out all the big picture cards, but I +expect I can rustle up a six-full that will come handy." Yeager smiled +as he spoke at the .45 he was bestowing about his person. + +Together they set the table for poker, putting on it two new decks, one +blue and one red, and a box of chips that had seen service in many a +midnight fray. On a side table were cigars, cigarettes, and liquor in +plenty. Holcomb intended to see that his guests were properly +entertained while Steve played the bigger and more dangerous game +outside. + +The range-rider knew that the odds were against him, that any one of +fifty trifling accidents might bring to failure the plan he had made. +All he could do was to make his preparations as skillfully as he could +and then try to carry them out coolly and with determination. + +The Mexican boy who had been hired to act as an attendant on the +card-players arrived and Yeager took his leave. The captain followed him +to the porch. + +"Good luck, Steve," he said quietly. + +"Same to you, captain. We'll talk this all over across the line in God's +country some time." + +"Sure," nodded Holcomb. "Well, so-long." + +The younger man answered the nod casually and turned away down the +street. Neither of them thought of shaking hands. Whatever was to happen +was all in the day's work. Both of them belonged to that type of +Westerner which sees a thing through without any dramatics. That this +happened to be a particularly critical thing had no effect on their +manner. + +Holcomb lit a cigar and sat down on the porch to wait for his guests. +They came presently. First were Pasquale and Ochampa, rough and ready as +to clothes, unshaven, betraying continually the class from which they +had risen. Culvera dropped in after a few minutes. He had discarded his +uniform and was in the picturesque regalia of the young Mexican +cavalier. From jingling silver spurs to the costly gold-laced sombrero +he was every inch the dandy. His manners were the pink of urbanity. +Nothing was lacking in particular to the affectionate deference he +showed his chief. It suggested somehow the love of a son and the +admiration of a devoted admirer. + +The general was riding a wave of exhilaration. He had trodden down +another of his enemies and was about to take to himself the spoils of +the battle. Still in his vigorous prime, he was assured the stars were +beckoning him to take the place in Mexico City that neither Madero nor +Huerta had been strong enough to hold. He promised himself to settle +down to moderation, to have done with the wild drinking-bouts that +still occasionally interfered with his efficiency. Meanwhile, to-night +he was again saying farewell to his bachelor days. He drank liberally +but not excessively. + +Ochampa proposed the health and happiness of the bride. It was drunk +with enthusiasm. The general gave them the United States, the sister +republic to the north, and spoke affectingly of his desire to promote a +better feeling between the countries by this marriage. The host had not +expected his poker party to develop so much oratory, but he rose briefly +to the occasion. The subject of his remarks was, "A United Mexico." + +But it was Culvera who capped the climax. He rose, wineglass in hand, +and waited impressively for silence. For five minutes his tongue flowed +on in praises of the Liberator of the people. He heaped superlatives on +extravagant approval after the fashion of our political orators. + +"Need I put a name to this patriot and hero who has won the unbounded +love and loyalty of my youth?" he asked rotundly. "Need I name the +Bolivar, the Washington of Mexico, the next president of this great +republic? If so, I but repeat the name that is on the lips of all the +thousands of our people to whom he is as a father--Gabriel Pasquale." + +Holcomb smiled behind the hand that stroked his mustache. There was +nobody present who did not know pretty accurately how far Ramon's +attachment to his chief went. Gabriel himself, who embraced him +affectionately in thanks, had not the least doubt. But if he had no +illusions in the matter, he did not intend on that account to warn his +lieutenant prematurely that he was next on the list to Harrison. + +Poker presently absorbed their attention. Holcomb was the genial host, +watchful of their wants and solicitous that they should be supplied. No +sign of anxiety betrayed that he was keyed up to a high nervous tension. +He told stories, laughed at those of the others, high spaded for drinks +(though as a matter of fact he was as host furnishing the liquor), made +post-mortem examinations of the deck, and otherwise showed a proper +interest. It was quite necessary that when Pasquale looked back over the +evening with later developments in mind he should not be able to find +any intimations that his host was accessory to the plan to escape. + +Hour after hour slipped away. The captain began to let himself hope that +the forlorn hope of Yeager had brought safety to his friends. Surely by +this time he must either have won or lost his throw for liberty. + +A single shot broke the stillness of the night. + +Pasquale, dealing, stopped with a card in his hand. + +"Funny thing how the guns of sentries are always going off +accidentally," remarked Holcomb casually. "Boy, look to the glasses of +these gentlemen." + +The deal was finished. Culvera opened the pot. The captain stayed. +Ochampa hesitated. + +One shot, a second, and then a fusillade of them shattered the quiet. + +Pasquale flung down his cards and rose hurriedly, overturning his chair. +"Mil diablos! What's to pay?" he cried. + +The others followed him out of the room and house. He ran down the +street as fast as a boy. Already men were emerging from houses half +dressed. The sound of shots came from back of the general's +headquarters. Pasquale doubled around the house and vaulted a fence. He +butted into an excited group and flung men to right and left. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded. + +A soldier pointed to the open window of the room that had been occupied +by Ruth Seymour. "She's gone, Your Excellency." + +"Gone! Gone where?" roared Gabriel. + +"Heaven knows. Her friends have rescued her." + +Pasquale broke into a storm of curses. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +TRAPPED + + +After leaving Holcomb, Yeager walked down to the river-bed, followed the +bank for a couple of hundred yards, and crept forward on all fours +through the alfalfa pasture to the barb-wire fence that paralleled the +road at some distance. He crawled beneath the lowest wire and moved +through the mesquite to a point from which he could see the building +where Farrar and Threewit were held prisoners. Two guards with rifles +across their shoulders paced up and down outside. + +Here Steve lay motionless for about half an hour. He believed that +before the poker game began some one of the party would drop around to +see that all was quiet and regular in the camp. His guess was a good +one. Pasquale himself, arm in arm with Ochampa, made the rounds and +stopped for a moment to speak to the sentries in front of the prison. +The man crouched in the bear grass could tell that Gabriel was in high +good-humor. He jested with the men and clapped them on the shoulder +jovially. He laughed as heartily at his own witticisms as they did. + +"There shall be mescal to-morrow for the whole army to drink the health +of the Liberator and his bride. See to it, Ochampa," he ordered as they +walked away. + +"Viva Pasquale the Liberator," cried the sentries in a fine fervor of +enthusiasm. + +Presently the man in hiding stole quietly to the road and advanced down +it at a leisurely pace. + +"Promising them mescal, eh?" he murmured. "Well, I'll bet a bird in the +hand is worth twenty or most sixteen in the bush." He patted +affectionately a bottle that lay snug in his pocket. + +"Who goes?" demanded one of the prison guards as he approached. + +"Pedro Cabenza." + +Steve chatted with them for a few moments before he produced his bird in +the hand. They told him of what Pasquale had promised. Slyly he looked +around to see that they were alone and drew from his pocket the bottle. + +"Ho, companero! Behold what I have. Gringo whiskey--better far than +mescal," he cried softly as he handed the treasure to one of the guards. + +The man glanced around hurriedly, even as had Cabenza, then tilted the +mouth of the bottle over his lips and let a long stiff drink gurgle down +his throat. He patted his fat paunch contentedly and handed the bottle +to his companion. The second guard also drank deeply. + +Cabenza put an arm across the shoulders of each and drew their heads +close while he whispered confidential scandal about Pasquale and Ramon +Culvera. The two men listened greedily, eager for more. It happened that +there was no truth in the salacious tidbits which Pedro retailed, but he +invented glibly and that did just as well. + +The heads of his listeners began to nod. They murmured drowsy +interjections and leaned more heavily upon his arms. Ineffectually they +tried to shake off the lassitude that was creeping over their senses. + +"Keep watch, brother, while I take just forty winks," begged one, and +fairly thrust his rifle into the hand of Yeager. + +The soldier staggered to the adobe wall and slumped down beside the +door. His eyes closed, fluttered open again, shut a second time. They +did not open. He was fast asleep. + +The second guard sat down beside him and smiled up sleepily at the +standing man. "Manuel sleeps on duty. He is--a fool. I do--not--sleep. +No, I--I--" + +His head drooped on his chest. Steve took the rifle that fell from his +relaxed hand. + +Instantly the American was tapping gently on the door. +"Threewit--Farrar!" he called softly. "This is Steve." + +There was the sound of quick footsteps. A voice within answered in a +whisper. + +"Yes, Steve. This is Frank." + +From his pocket the range-rider took a bunch of skeleton keys. It was no +trouble to find one that would unlock the door, but in addition to this +fastening there was a padlock. With a hatchet which he had brought +Yeager pried the staple out. In another moment the door was open. + +"Help me drag these fellows inside," ordered the cowpuncher, taking +command promptly. "Frank, tear one of those blankets into strips. We've +got to tie their hands and feet and gag them. Shuck your coat, Threewit. +You've got to wear this fellow's blouse and sombrero. You, too, Frank. +It's Manuel's castaways for you. Move lively, boys. This is surely going +to be our busy evening." + +"What's the programme?" asked Farrar, doing what he was told to do. + +Steve explained briefly. "Old Pasquale has got Ruth Seymour here at his +house. He intends to marry her to-morrow. I don't mean he shall. A good +friend of mine is entertaining the old scoundrel to-night and some of +the other high moguls in camp. My notion is to slip into old Gabriel's +headquarters and rescue Ruth." + +"Has Ruth been here ever since she came down with Harrison that time he +lied to her about you being wounded?" asked Threewit. "We were told you +butted in and took her home." + +"I did. Harrison went to Los Robles later and brought her by force. He +was looking for me and bumped into her by chance. His idea was to marry +her as soon as they reached camp. But Pasquale balked. He took a fancy +to Ruth himself." + +While Yeager talked his fingers were busy every moment. From long usage +he was expert at roping and tying. Many a time he had thrown the diamond +hitch while packing on mountain trails. His skill served him well now. +He trussed the guards as if they had been packs for the saddle, binding +them hand and feet so that they could not move. + +"We heard that an American had been killed in camp to-day. We've been +worried for fear it might have been you, Steve," said the camera man. + +"It was Harrison. He tried to sell Pasquale out to Farrugia and the old +fox got his letter. Pasquale accused him of his treachery and had him +assassinated on the spot. Better pull that sombrero lower over your +face, Threewit. And keep your hands out of the light as much as you can. +They're too white for this section of the country." + +"What if some one talks to me? I can't put over their lingo." + +"Just grunt. I'll do what talking is necessary. All right. We'll make +tracks, boys." + +They stepped outside. Yeager relocked the door and drove the staple back +into the wood with the end of his rifle by steady pressure and not by +blows. + +Steve led them through the bear grass into the pasture and across it to +the river-bank. Here, under the heavy shadows of the overhanging +cottonwoods, he outlined his plans. + +Threewit spoke aloud his fears. "But, good Lord! what chance have we +got? It's a cinch we can't put four more guards out of business without +being seen. And if we are caught--" His voice failed him. + +The cowpuncher looked at him, and then at Farrar. The camera man was +pale, but his eyes met those of his friend steadily. Steve judged he +would do to tie to, that his nerve would pull him through. But the +director was plainly shaken with fears. He was not a coward, but the +privations and anxieties of the past ten days had got on his nerves. His +lips twitched and his fat hand trembled. His life had fallen in too soft +and easy places for this sort of thing. + +The cowboy reassured him gently, even as he rearranged his plans on the +spot. "We're going to pull it off, but as you say there is a chance we +won't make it. I'm going to leave you in the corral with the horses. If +Frank and I should slip up and get caught you'll still have a chance to +get away." + +"I'm going through with it just the same as you boys," insisted the +director shakily. + +"You're going to do as I say, Threewit. I'm elected boss of this rodeo. +One of us has got to stay by the horses to make sure they're ready when +we need 'em. That's going to be you. You're to sit right steady on the +job till we come. If you hear shooting,--and if we don't show up in a +reasonable time after that,--light out and save your hide. Keep that +star--see, the bright one close down to the horizon--keep it right in +front of you all night. By daybreak you ought to be across the line." + +"I'm not going to ride away and leave you boys and Ruth here. What do +you take me for?" demanded Threewit huskily. + +Steve put a hand on the shoulder of the little man. "You're all right, +Billie," he said, with the affectionate smile that men as well as women +loved. "We all know you'll do to take along any time when we need a man +that's on the level. You wait there at the corral. If we show up, good. +If we don't--well, we'll be beyond help. There'll be nothing left for +you to do but burn the wind." + +Frank swallowed hard. "What Steve says goes with me, Billie." + +"Good." Yeager turned briskly to the business in hand. "We might as well +be on our way, boys. There's no hurry, because I want Pasquale and +Culvera to get settled at their game. But I reckon we'll drift along +easy like." + +They waded the river, which at its deepest did not reach to their +calves, and scrambled up the opposite bank to a bench of shale. Yeager, +after a short search, found hidden under the foliage of a prickly pear +the rope he had left there some hours earlier. They were in a large +fenced pasture where were kept the horses of the officers. At one end +could be seen dimly the outline of a little corral. + +"You boys head across that way and wait for me. The remuda is at the +other end of the pasture under the care of a boy," explained the +cowpuncher. + +"Hadn't I better go along with you in case of trouble?" asked Farrar. + +"There isn't going to be any trouble. I'm getting the horses for +Pasquale. See?" + +After the others had left him, Steve lit a cigarette and sauntered to +the far end of the field. Presently he gave a call that brought an +answer. The horses were grazing in a loose herd that covered perhaps a +third of an acre. From behind them emerged a youth on horseback. + +"I want four horses in a hurry," announced the range-rider. + +"What for?" + +"Never mind what for, compadre. I didn't ask old Gabriel what for when +he sent me," grumbled the messenger. + +"Why didn't you say for Pasquale?" The young man was preparing his rope +swiftly and efficiently. "Did the general say what horses?" + +"He named the roan with the white stockings and the white-nosed +buckskin." + +"Then he's going to travel fast and far. Why, in the devil's name, since +he is going to be married in the morning?" + +"Why does the general always do what isn't expected? The saints know. I +don't," growled Steve. + +Both of them were expert ropers. In five minutes the American was +swallowed in the darkness. He was astride the bare back of the buckskin +and was leading the other ponies. As soon as he knew he was safely out +of sight and hearing, he deflected toward the corral. + +His friends were waiting for him anxiously. Steve dropped lightly to the +ground. + +"Hold the horses a minute, Frank," he said. + +Striding to a feed-stall filled with alfalfa, he tossed the hay aside +and dragged to the light a saddle. Presently he uncovered a second, a +third, and a fourth. + +"Brought them here last night--stole them from the storehouse," he +explained casually. + +"You didn't overlook any bets--thought of everything, even to +saddle-blankets and water-bags already full," contributed Farrar, +digging up these supplies from the alfalfa. + +Steve cinched the saddles himself, though Farrar was a fair horseman. If +it came to a pinch the turning of a saddle might spoil everything, and +so far as he could the range-rider was forestalling any accidents that +might be due to carelessness. + +"How long am I to wait for you?" asked Threewit. + +"We'd ought to be back inside of an hour and a half--if luck's with us. +But we may be delayed by some one hanging around. Give us two hours or +even two and a half--unless hell begins to pop." Steve looked at his +watch in the moonlight. "Say till twelve o'clock. Of course, when you +go, you'll leave the other horses here on the chance that we come later. +You'd better ride that round-bellied bay." + +"Am I to follow the star right up the hill?" + +"No. Better take the draw. The sentinels will be on the hill. Likely +they'll see you and shoot at you. But don't stop, even if they're +close. Keep a-going. They can't hit a barn door." + +"Neither can I," lamented the director. + +"Then you'll all be safe." Yeager turned to Farrar. "Come on, Frank." + +The two crossed the pasture to the river and waded through the shallow +stream to the other side. They remained in the shadows of the bank, +following the bend of the river as it circled the village. Through the +cottonwoods they crept toward the rear of the two-story house where +Pasquale lived and Ruth was held prisoner. + +From a sandy spot at the foot of a cotton wood tree Yeager dug a rope +ladder. + +"Been making it while I was night-herding the remuda," he told Farrar in +answer to a surprised question. + +"Beats me you didn't make an auto for us to get away in," answered his +admiring friend with a grin. + +"Wait here," whispered Steve. "I'm going forward to look the ground +over. Keep your eyes open in case I give a signal." + +The range-rider snaked his way toward the house, moving so slowly and +noiselessly that Farrar lost sight of him entirely and began to wonder +where he had gone. It must have been nearly twenty minutes later that he +caught a glimpse of him without his rifle. Yeager was engaged in +confidential talk with a guard in uniform. Frank saw the bottle pass +from his friend to the Mexican, who took a pull at it. A second guard +joined the two presently. He also took a drink. + +The three disappeared together into the shadowy darkness of the house +wall. Farrar was wondering what had happened when a single figure +emerged into the moonlight and made a signal for him to come forward. + +Yeager did not wait for him, but climbed up the post of the back porch +as he had done once before. The camera man was on hand by the time Steve +reached the roof. He looked up silently while his friend reached across +and rapped on the window of a lighted room. The sash was raised very +gently. + +Ruth leaned out. "Is it you, Steve?" Her voice was tremulous and +tearful. It was a safe guess she had been sobbing her misery into a +pillow. + +"Yes." + +He caught hold of the edge of the window and swung across, working +himself up and in by sheer power of muscle. Rapidly he fastened the end +of the rope ladder to the head of the bed, which he first half lifted +and half dragged to the window. The rest of the ladder he threw out. + +"Ready, Ruth?" he asked, turning to her. + +She nodded. He was offering his arm to help her through the window when +a frightened call came from below. + +"Steve!" + +He looked down. A Mexican trooper, one of those set to guard the front +of the house, was approaching. A glance was enough to show that he knew +something to be wrong. His startled eyes passed from Farrar to the rope +ladder. They followed it from the ground to the window. He stopped, +almost under the window. The camera man, taken aback, did not know what +to do. Was he to run the risk of a shot? Even while he hesitated the man +in uniform reached for a revolver. + +Yeager knew what to do, and he did it promptly. Sweeping Ruth back from +the window, he clambered through himself and poised his body for the +leap. The sentry looked up again, saw what was about to happen, and let +out a startled scream at the same instant that he flung up an arm and +fired. Steve felt a sharp sting in his leg as he descended through the +air. He landed astride on the shoulders of the Mexican. The man went to +earth, hammered down so hard that the breath was driven from his body. + +The arm of the range-rider rose and fell once. In his hand was the blue +barrel of a revolver. The corrugated butt of the .45 had crashed into +the thick matted hair of the Mexican. But it had done its work. Yeager +rose quickly. The soldier lay still. + +Already Ruth was coming down the swaying ladder. She dropped the last +few rounds with a rush, plump into the arms of Steve. + +"Let us hurry--hurry," she cried. + +It was time to be gone, if not too late. Already men were converging +upon them from different sides. Others were bawling orders for soldiers +to turn out. + +Steve went down almost as quickly as he had risen. His leg had given way +unexpectedly. + +Before he reached his feet again his revolver was out and doing +business. + +"Fire at their legs, Frank. All we want to do is to stop them. Ruth, you +run ahead, straight for the trees. We'll be with you in a minute," +Yeager gave orders quietly. + +The girl flashed one look at him, found assurance in his strong, lean +face, and obeyed without a word. + +Farrar's rifle was already scattering bullets rather wildly into the +night. Lead spattered against the adobe wall behind them. But the +attackers were checked. Their fire was of a desultory character. There +was such a thing as being too impetuous. Who were these men they were +assailing? Perhaps they were acting under orders of Pasquale. Better +not be too rash. So the mind of the peon soldiers decided. + +As soon as Ruth had reached the shelter of the grove her friends moved +to join her. They were halfway across the open when the cowpuncher +plunged to the ground again. + +The camera man turned and ran back to him. "What is it, Steve? Have they +hit you?" he asked anxiously. + +"Plugged a pill into my laig as I took the elevator down from the second +story. Gimme a hand up." + +Frank put an arm around his waist as a support and they reached cover +just as the leg failed for a third time. Yeager crawled forward a few +yards on his knees into the underbrush. + +Soft arms slid around his neck and shoulder as someone plumped down +beside him. + +"You're wounded. You've been shot," Ruth breathed tremulously. + +"Yes," assented Yeager. "Hand me your rifle, Frank." + +They exchanged weapons. Steve had already made up his mind exactly what +was best to do. + +"I'm going to stay here awhile and hold them back. You go on with Ruth, +Frank. Leave a horse for me. I'll be along later," he explained. + +"We're not going away to leave you here," protested Ruth indignantly. + +His voice was so matter of fact and his manner so competent that she had +already drawn back, half ashamed, from the caressing support to which +her feelings had driven her. + +He turned on her eyes cool and steely. "You're going to do as I say, +girl. You're wasting time for all of us every moment you stay. Take her, +Frank." + +Farrar spoke in a low voice of troubled doubt. "But what are you going +to do, Steve? We can't leave you here." + +The bullets of the Mexicans were searching the grove for them. Any +moment one might find a mark. + +The range-rider made a gesture of angry impatience. "You obey orders +fine, don't you?" His face flashed sudden anger. "Get out. I know my +plans, don't I? Pull your freight. Vamos!" + +"And you'll be along later, will you?" + +"Of course I will. I've got it all arranged. Hurry, or it will be too +late." + +Ruth half guessed his purpose. She began to sob, but let herself be +hurried away by Farrar. + +"He's going to stay there. He's not coming at all," she wailed as she +ran. + +"Sho! Of course he's coming. You know Steve, don't you? He's always got +something good up his sleeve." + +But though her friend reassured her, he could not still his own fears. +Something in him cried out against the desertion of a wounded ally, one +who had risked his life to save them all. Still, there was the girl to +be considered. If Yeager wanted to give his life for hers he had the +right. Many a good man of the Southwest would have done what Steve was +doing, given the same circumstances. It was up to him, Farrar, to back +his friend's play and see it through. + +Yeager crawled on his hands and knees into a mesquite thicket from which +he could command a view of the open space back of Pasquale's house. He +broke carefully half a dozen twigs that interfered with the free play of +his rifle. Then he placed his revolver beside him ready for action. +After which he waited, tense and watchful. + +Mexicans were swarming about the back of the house. One climbed the rope +ladder, looked in the window, and explained with much gesturing to those +below that the room was empty. Random shots were thrown toward the river +and into the grove. But nobody headed the pursuit. They were waiting for +a leader. + +Then Pasquale burst furiously into sight around the house. Culvera, +Ochampa, and Holcomb followed him. The general flung himself into an +excited group, tossing to right and left those who were in his way. He +snapped out questions, gave orders, and stamped over the ground like a +madman. + +Called by Culvera, he strode forward to one of the drugged guards. In an +impotent fury he shook the man, trying to waken him from his sleep; +then, raging at his failure, he flung the helpless body against the wall +and turned on his heel. + +Order began to evolve out of the mob. Pasquale himself organized the +pursuit. He spread the line out so that as it advanced it would sweep +the whole space to the river. There was no longer any wild firing. Men +brought from the stables eight or ten horses for the officers. + +As the line moved forward, Yeager thought it time to let the enemy know +where he was. He drew a bead on the general, moved his rifle slightly to +the left, and fired. Pasquale drew his sword and waved it. + +"Take the girl alive. Shoot down the traitor dogs with her," he cried +savagely. "One hundred pesos to the man who kills either of them or +captures her." + +Steve answered this by firing twice, once with his revolver and almost +immediately afterward with his rifle. Ochampa sat down suddenly. He had +been hit in the leg. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE PRISONER + + +Pasquale changed his tactics. Having located his prey with fair +accuracy, he spread his men so as to converge upon the fugitives as the +spokes of a wheel do toward the hub. His instructions were that the men +were not to fire unless they were within close enough range to be sure +not to hit the girl. + +His courage had been tested often enough to be beyond doubt, so Gabriel +contented himself with waiting behind his horse for the captives to be +brought to him. He had no intention of being killed in a skirmish of +this kind as long as he had peons to send forward in his place. + +"Bet five dollars gold I have them inside of a quarter of an hour, +captain," the Mexican general said, peering across his saddle toward the +grove. + +"Yes," assented Major Ochampa in a depressed voice. He objected to +having camp vagrants take liberties with his leg. "Hope you make an +example of them, general." + +Pasquale turned, his eyes like cold lights on a frosty night. "They'll +pray for death a hundred times before it comes to them," he promised +brutally. Then, with quick surprise, "Where's Holcomb?" + +"He went forward with the men." + +"Just like him," replied Gabriel, shrugging his shoulders. "The madman +must always be in the thick of it. It's the Gringo way." + +From his mesquite thicket Yeager kept up as rapid a fire as possible, +using rifle and revolver alternately so as to deceive the enemy into +believing the whole party was there. His object was merely to gain time +for his escaping friends. Ochampa had been wounded as an object lesson, +but he did not intend to kill any of those who were surrounding him. If +there had been a dozen of them he would have fought it out to a finish, +but with one against a thousand he felt it would be useless murder to +kill. + +Steve fired into the air, knowing that would do just as well to delay +the attackers. Each time he fired his revolver he called aloud softly to +himself the number of the shot. It was essential to his plan that there +should be one bullet left the moment before they took him. + +He could hear them stumbling toward him through the brush and could make +out the dark figures as they crawled forward. + +"Four," he counted as he fired his revolver into the air and cut off a +twig. + +His rifle sang out twice. He waited, listening. Bushes crackled a few +yards behind him. Snatching up his revolver, he turned. + +"Don't fire, Steve," said a low voice in perfectly good English. + +Holcomb came out of the thicket toward him. + +"Hello, captain. Nice large warm evening. You out taking the air?" asked +the cowpuncher. + +"Did the rest get away?" + +"Hope so. I had rotten luck. One of the guards plugged me in the leg, so +I thought I'd kinder keep the Legion busy while our friends make their +getaway." + +"Can't you run?" + +"Can't even walk." Yeager raised the revolver and fired. "Five. One left +now." + +His eye met that of the captain. Each of them understood perfectly. + +"That first shot of yours just missed Pasquale. Pity you didn't shoot +straighter." + +"I had a dead beat on the old scamp, but I didn't want him. If Ruth gets +away, that's all I ask. He's all kinds of a wolf, but Mexico needs him, +I reckon." + +"You're right about that, Steve. It wouldn't have done you any good to +lay him out. Here they come." + +A man ploughed through the brush toward them. Another appeared to the +left. The face of a third peered around the trunk of an adjacent +cottonwood. Of a sudden the grove seemed alive with them. + +Raising his gun, Steve nodded farewell to his friend. + +A moment before Holcomb had had no intention of interfering, but an +impulse that was almost an inspiration gave springs to his muscles. He +leaped. + +The fling of his arm sent the shot flying wildly into the night. Yeager +turned on him furiously as he picked himself up to his knees. + +"What did you do that for?" + +"I don't know--had no intention of it a moment before. Maybe I've done +you a bad turn, Steve. It came over me as a hunch that you were coming +out of this all right." + +"The devil it did. Gimme your gun. Quick!" + +It was too late. The Mexicans were closing with him. They flung him down +and pegged him to the ground with their weight. He made no attempt to +struggle. + +"Get off of him. He's my prisoner," roared Holcomb, flinging one of the +Mexicans back. + +They poured on him a flood of protesting Spanish. They had taken him +while he was still at large. The reward was theirs. + +"Confound the reward. You may have it, but the man belongs to me. Get +up. He's wounded. Two of you will have to carry him." + +"But if he tries to escape, senor--" + +"Don't be a fool," snapped Holcomb curtly. + +The captain was troubled in his heart. Had he saved this fine young +fellow to be the plaything of old Pasquale's vengeance? He knew well +enough what would happen to the Arizonian if Ruth escaped. But as long +as there was life there was a chance. Something might turn up yet to +save him. + +When Pasquale found that only an insignificant peon Pedro Cabenza had +been taken in his dragnet, he exploded with fury. He ordered the man +shot against the nearest wall at once. + +Culvera turned the prisoner so that the moon fell full upon his face. He +looked searchingly at him. Yeager knew that he was discovered. He spoke +in English. + +"Good-evening, Colonel Culvera. You've guessed right, but you've guessed +it a little too late." + +"What is this? Who is this man?" demanded Pasquale harshly. + +"The man Yeager, who escaped from you two weeks since," explained Ramon. +"He has been in camp with us over a week arranging this girl's escape." + +The old general let out a bellow of rage. He strode forward to make +sure for himself. Roughly he seized his prisoner by the hair of the head +and twisted the face toward him. + +"Sorry I had to leave you so abruptly last time, general. Did you have a +pleasant night?" taunted Yeager. + +Gabriel choked. He was beyond words. + +"I see you haven't been able to get anybody else to assassinate your +friend Culvera yet," he said pleasantly. + +The American had given up hope of life. He was trying to spur Pasquale +into such an uncontrollable anger that his death would be a swift and +easy one. + +"Tie him hand and foot. Let a dozen men armed with rifles stay in the +room with him till I return. Ochampa, I hold you responsible. If he +escapes--" + +"He won't escape," answered the major. "I'll see to that myself." + +"See that you do." Pasquale swung to the saddle and looked around. +"Ramon, you're not a fool. Where shall we look for this girl and those +with her?" he demanded, scowling. + +"They must have horses to escape, general. Except in the stable here, +which is guarded heavily, the nearest are across the river in the +direction they must be moving." + +"Of course. Juan, have the remuda driven up and let every man saddle +his horse. We'll comb these hills if we must. Maldito! She shan't escape +me." + +He galloped off at the head of his troop, taking the short cut to the +pasture. + +The prisoner was dragged into the house where Ochampa was staying. A +doctor presently arrived and took care of the wounded leg of the major. +After he had finished dressing it, he turned to Yeager. + +"No use bothering with mine. I'll have worse wounds soon," the man from +Arizona told him calmly. + +The little doctor smiled genially because his heart was good. "Quien +sabe, senor? Yet it is my duty," he reminded his patient gently. + +"Old Gabriel might not say so," demurred Steve. + +Yet he conceded the point and let the surgeon minister to him. There was +no anaesthetic. The patient had to set his teeth and bear the pain while +the bullet was removed and the wound washed and dressed. Little beads of +perspiration stood out on his forehead. The lean muscles of his cheeks +stood out like ropes. But no sound escaped his lips. + +"You are a brave man," said the doctor when he had finished. "I wish you +good fortune, sir." + +A faint smile rested in the eyes of the cowpuncher. "I'm right likely +to have it, don't you think?" he asked ironically. + +Whether Ochampa suspected Holcomb of being in collusion with his +countryman or was merely taking no chances, the prisoner had no way of +telling. But the major refused flatly to let the artillery officer into +the room. + +"Tell him he can see the man after the general returns--if the general +wants him to see him," he told the messenger. + +They could hear the voice of Holcomb, angry and insistent, protesting +against such treatment. But a file of soldiers stood between him and the +room. He had to retire defeated. + +Slate-colored dawn rolled up without the return of Pasquale. With every +passing hour Steve gathered hope. It was certain that Ruth and her +friends had escaped through the lines or they must have been brought +back long ago. And if they once reached the hills and became lost among +them, they would surely be safe from pursuit. + +The prisoner was drinking a cup of coffee the doctor had brought him +when the sound of horses' hoofs came to him through the open window. + +The voice of Pasquale rang out, and at the sound of it Steve's heart +grew chill. For there was in the timbre of it a brutal, jovial triumph. + +"Take these horses, boys,--feed them, water them. Let the girl go to +her room, Ramon, but see that she is watched every minute. Garcia, +attend to the Gringos." + +He strode into the room where Yeager was detained. His greedy little +eyes sparkled; his face exuded malice and self-conceit. + +"Ho, ho, amigo! Who laughs now?" he jeered. "I found your +friends--stumbled on them in a pocket of the hills while we were +returning. They had lost their way, of course, since Senor Yeager was +unfortunately not able to go along. So I brought them home to breakfast. +Was I not kind?" + +He threw back his head and laughed. Steve said nothing. His heart was +sick. He had thrown the dice for his great chance and lost. + +"First, to breakfast," repeated the Mexican. "And afterward--the young +lady shall have love. Por Dios, you shall be at the wedding," decided +Pasquale on malicious impulse, hammering on the table with his great +fist. + +"If I had only had the sense to pull the trigger last night when I had +you at my mercy," Yeager commented aloud. + +"Yes, you and all her friends--you shall all be there to wish her +joy--even Holcomb, who wearies me with his protests. Maldito! Is Gabriel +Pasquale not good enough for a kitchen wench from Arizona?" + +"It's an outrage beyond belief." + +"And afterward--while the little chatita makes love to Gabriel--her +friend Steve whom she loves will suffer his punishment with what +fortitude he can." + +"And her other friends?" + +"Behold, it is a great day, senor. Not so? If the chatita, linda de mi +alma (pugnosed one, pretty creature of my love), asks for their freedom, +she shall have it. I, Gabriel, will send them home under safe escort. Am +I not generous? A kind lover? Not so?" + +Steve turned his head away and looked through the window at the sun +rising behind the distant hills. There was nothing to be said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE TEXAN TAKES A LONG JOURNEY + + +Pasquale was as good as his word. He arranged that Yeager should see the +function from first to last. The wounded man, his hands tied behind his +back, heavily guarded, was in the front row of the crowd which lined the +short walk between the headquarters of the general and the little adobe +church. The petty officer in command told him that after the bridal +procession had passed he was to be taken into the balcony of the church +for the ceremony. + +"And afterward, while Gabriel makes love to the muchacha, the Gringo +Yeager will learn what it means to displease the Liberator," promised +the brown man with a twinkle of cruel little eyes. + +Steve gave no sign that he heard. He understood perfectly that the +ingenuity of Pasquale would make the day one long succession of tortures +for him. It was up to him to mask his face and manner with the stoicism +of an Apache. + +At a little distance he saw Farrar and Threewit, both of them very +anxious and pale. He would have called a greeting to them except that he +was afraid it might prejudice their chances. + +Captain Holcomb passed in front of him and stopped. + +"Mornin', Steve," he said. + +"Mornin', captain." The haggard eyes of the cowpuncher asked a question +before his lips framed it. "Can't you do anything for the little girl? +Has this hellish thing got to go through?" + +"The prisoner will keep silent," snapped the Mexican sergeant. + +Holcomb looked at the man with eyes of chill authority. "When I speak to +the prisoner he answers. Understand?" + +"Si, senor," muttered the sergeant, taken aback. "But the general +said--" + +"Forget it," cut in the Texan crisply. He turned to Yeager and spoke +deliberately, looking straight at him. "Pasquale is going through with +this thing. Just as sure as the old reprobate is alive the padre will +marry your little friend to him within half an hour." + +Was Captain Holcomb giving him a message? Steve did not know. It seemed +to him that there was some hidden meaning in the long look of the steady +eyes. + +The soldier nodded curtly and turned away. The Texan was dressed with +unusual care. He was wearing tanned boots newly polished and the trim +khaki uniform of an officer of the United States Army. Looking at him, +Yeager thought he had never seen a finer figure of a man. He carried +himself with the light firmness of a trained soldier. + +The cowpuncher was puzzled. Had Holcomb an ace up his sleeve? If so, +what could it be? He had said that the marriage would be pushed through +_just as sure as Pasquale was alive_. Had there been the slightest +emphasis on that part of the sentence? Steve was not certain. It had +struck him that the captain's soft voice had lingered on the words, but +that might have been fancy. Yet he could not escape the feeling that +something tragic was impending. + +The chattering of the peons crowded in the road died away as if at a +signal. From the other end of the line rose a shout. "Viva Pasquale! +Viva Pasquale!" + +Troopers pushed through and opened up a lane. + +The general was for once in full uniform. Evidently he had just come +from the hands of a barber. His fierce mustache and eyebrows had been +trimmed and subdued. He smiled broadly as he bowed to the plaudits of +his men. + +Then he turned and Steve caught sight of the bride. Colorless to the +lips, she trembled as she moved forward, her eyes on the ground. + +It was as if some bell rang within her to tell of the presence of her +lover. Ruth raised her big sad eyes and they met those of Steve. Her +lips framed his name soundlessly. She seemed to lean toward him, +straining from Pasquale, whose arm supported her. + +Somehow she broke free and flung herself toward the man she loved. Her +arms fastened around his neck. With a shivering sob she clung tightly to +him. + +Pasquale, his eyes stabbing with brutal rage, dragged her back and held +her wrist in his sinewy brown hand. His teeth were clenched, the veins +in his temples swollen. He glared at the cowpuncher as if he would like +to murder him on the spot. + +The padre touched Gabriel on the arm. With a start the Liberator came to +himself. The procession moved forward again. Not a word had been spoken, +but Pasquale's golden smile had vanished. The fingernails of his +clenched fist bit savagely into the palm of his hand. + +From the procession Culvera saluted Yeager ironically. "Buenos and +adios, senor." + +The man to whom he spoke did not even know the Mexican was there. His +eyes and his mind were following the girl who was being driven to her +doom. + +From out of the crowd edging the walk a man stepped. It was Adam +Holcomb. He stood directly in front of Pasquale and his bride, blocking +the way. There was a strange light in his eyes. It was as if he looked +from the present far into the future, as if somehow he were a god, an +Olympian who held in his hand the shears of destiny. + +The general, still furious, flung an angry look at him. "Well?" he +demanded harshly. + +"I want to ask the lady a question, general." + +Impatient rage boiled out of Pasquale in an imperious gesture of his +arm. "Afterward, captain. You shall ask her a hundred. Move aside." + +"I'll ask it now. This wedding doesn't go on until I hear from the young +lady that she is willing," he announced. + +Ruth tried to run forward to him, but the iron grip of the Mexican +stayed her. "Save me," she cried. + +"By God! I will." + +"Arrest that man," ordered Pasquale in a passion. + +At the same time he pushed Ruth from him into the crowd that lined the +path. The brown fingers of the Mexican chief closed upon the handle of +his revolver. + +"Here's where I go on a long journey," the Texan cried. + +He dragged out an army forty-five. Pasquale and he fired at the same +instant. The Mexican clutched at his heart and swayed back into the +crowd. Holcomb staggered, but recovered himself. He faced the other +Mexican officers, tossed away his revolver, and folded his arms. + +"Whenever you are ready, gentlemen," he said quietly. + +Ramon Culvera was the first to recover. From his automatic revolver he +flung a bullet into the straight, erect figure facing him. The others +crowded forward and fired into the body as it began to sink. The Texan +gave a sobbing sigh. Before his knees reached the ground he was dead. + +The suddenness of the tragedy, its unexpectedness, held the crowd with +suspended breath. What was to follow? Was this the beginning of a +massacre? Each man looked at his neighbor. Another moment might bring +forth anything. + +With a bound Ramon vaulted to the saddle of a horse standing near. His +sword made a half-circle of steel as it swept through the air. From +where he sat he could be seen by all. + +"Brothers of the Legion, patriots all, let none become excited. I have +killed with my own hand the traitor who shot our beloved leader. Gabriel +Pasquale is dead, but our country lives. Viva Mexico!" + +The answer came from thousands of brown, upturned faces. "Viva Mexico! +Viva Culvera!" + +The young officer swung the sword around his head. His eyes flashed. +"Gracias. Friends, I solemnly pledge my life to the great cause of the +people. Our hero is dead. We mourn him and devote ourselves anew to the +principles for which he fought. Never shall I lay down this sword until +I have won for you the rights of a free nation. I promise you land for +all, wealth for all, freedom from tyranny. Down with all the foes of the +poor." + +Again the shouts rang out, this time louder and clearer. Already these +simple, childlike peons were answering the call of their new master. Old +Pasquale, who for years had held their lives in the hollow of his hand, +lay crumpled on the ground almost forgotten. A new star was shining in +their firmament. + +"We shall march to Mexico, down the usurper, and distribute the stolen +wealth of him and his pampered minions among the people to whom it +belongs. Every Mexican shall have a house, land, cattle. He shall be the +slave of none. His children shall be fed. We shall have peace and +plenty. I, Ramon Culvera, swear it. Mexico for the Mexicans." + +Culvera was an orator. His resonant voice stirred the emotions of this +ragged mob that under the leadership of Pasquale had been hammered into +an army efficient enough to defeat well-armed regulars. The men pressed +closer to listen. Their primitive faces reflected the excitement the +speaker stirred in them. They interrupted with shouts and cheers. + +Others among the officers had ambitions for leadership, but they knew +now that Ramon had made the moment his and forestalled them. He had won +the army over to him. + +He spoke briefly, but he took pains to see that no other speaker +followed him. The plaudits for "General Culvera" rang like sweet music +in his ears. They told him that he had at a bound passed the officers +who ranked him and was already in effect chief of the Army of the North. + +Briefly he gave directions for the care of the body of the dead general +and for the safety of the American prisoners pending a disposition of +their cases. Before dismissing the army, he called an immediate +conference of the officers. + +Resolved to strike while the iron was hot, Culvera took charge of the +meeting of officers and proposed at once the election of a general to +succeed Pasquale. His associates were taken by surprise. They looked out +of the windows and saw pacing up and down the armed sentries Ramon had +set. They heard still an occasional distant cheer for the new leader. +Given time, they might have organized an opposition. But Culvera drove +them to instant decision. They faced the imperious will of a man who +would stick at nothing to satisfy his ambition. + +Moreover, Ramon was popular. He was of a good family, democratic in +manner, never arrogant on the surface to his equals. It had been his +object to make friends against the possibility of just such a +contingency. Most of the officers liked, even though they did not fully +trust him. They recognized that he had the necessary confidence in +himself for success and also the touch of dramatic genius that may make +of a soldier a public idol. + +For which reasons they submitted to his domination and elected him +successor of Pasquale as commander of the Legion of the North. Whereupon +Ramon unburdened himself of another fiery oration of patriotism full of +impossible pledges. + +The newly chosen general sent an orderly out to proclaim the day a +holiday and to see that mescal was served to all the men in honor of the +event. After which the conference discussed the fate of the American +prisoners. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +AT SUNSET + + +Steve, in solitary confinement, with only his throbbing leg for company, +was under no illusions as to what his punishment would be. Pasquale had +been killed by an American who had been seen talking with Yeager five +minutes before he had shot the general. The charge against him would +probably be conspiracy, but it did not much matter what the excuse was. +His life would be snuffed out certainly. + +There were several reasons why Culvera should sacrifice him and not one +why he should be spared. Ramon had a personal grudge against him, and +the new commander was not a man to forget to pay debts of this kind. +Moreover, the easiest way to still any whispered doubts of his own +loyalty to Pasquale was to show sharp severity in punishing those +charged with being implicated in his death. + +Yeager accepted it as settled that he was doomed. + +But what about his friends? What of Threewit and Farrar? And, above all, +what of Ruth? Would Culvera think it necessary to extend his vengeance +to them? Or would prudence stay his hand after he had executed the chief +offender? + +Culvera was a good politician. The chances were that he would not risk +stirring up a hornet's nest by shooting a man as well known in the +United States as Threewit. Since Farrar was in the same case, he would +probably stand or fall by the Lunar director. As for Ruth--her _life_ +would be safe enough. There was no doubt of that. But--what of her +future? + +Ramon was a known libertine. No scruples would restrain him if he +thought the game was a safe quarry. And Steve knew with a sinking heart +that he could offer to any official inquiry of the United States +Government a plausible story of an abandoned woman who had come to camp +to sell her charms to the highest bidder. It would be easy to show that +she had ridden down with a man suspected of being a rustler and known to +be a bad character, that she had jilted him for Pasquale who was already +married and a good deal more than twice her age, and that after the +death of Gabriel she had turned at once to his successor. To twist the +facts in support of such an interpretation of her conduct would require +only a little distortion here and there. The truth, twisted, makes the +most damnable lies. + +Without any heroics Holcomb had given his life to save her because she +was an American woman. Yeager counted himself a dead man in the same +cause. What wrung his heart now, and set him limping up and down his +cell regardless of the pain from his wounded leg, was the fear that the +price had been paid in vain. Little Ruth! Little Ruth! His heart went +out to her in an agony of despair. + +While he clung rigid to the window bars of his prison the rusty lock in +the door creaked. The sergeant with the cruel little eyes entered with +three men. + +"Ho, ho! The general wants the Gringo to cut out his heart and liver. +Come! Let us not keep him waiting. He is sharpening the knife and it may +lose the edge." + +A horse was waiting outside and the prisoner was assisted to the saddle. +One man led the horse by the bridle and on either side of Yeager rode a +second and a third. All of them were armed. The new general was taking +no chances of an escape. + +At sight of the American the young Mexican at the head of the long table +where Pasquale had held his councils showed a flash of fine teeth in a +glittering smile. + +"Welcome, Senor Yeager. How is the wounded leg?" + +Steve nodded casually. "It's talking to me, general, but I reckon it's +good enough to do all the walking I'll ask of it," he answered quietly. + +Culvera turned with a laugh to Ochampa. "He is what the Gringoes call +game. Is it not so, major?" + +Ochampa, his wounded leg on a chair, grunted. + +"Turn about is fair play. How is _your_ leg, major?" asked Steve. + +The major glared at him. "Is it that I must put up with the insolence of +this scoundrel, general?" he demanded. + +"Not for long," replied Culvera suavely. "Pedro Cabenza, or Yeager, or +whatever you call yourself, you have been tried for rebellion, +insubordination, and conspiracy to kill General Pasquale. You have been +sentenced to be shot at sunset. The order of the military court will be +carried out as decreed." + +The cowpuncher took it without the twitching of a muscle in the brown +face. He knew there was no use of an appeal for mercy and he made none. + +"So I've been tried and convicted without even being present. Fine +business. I reckon you've got an explanation handy when Uncle Sam comes +asking whyfor you murdered an American citizen." + +Culvera lifted in mock surprise his eyebrows. "An American citizen! +Surely not. I execute Pedro Cabenza, a peon, enlisted in the Army of +the North, because he plotted with the foes of the Republic and helped +prisoners escape, and because he conspired to assassinate our glorious +chief, General Pasquale." Ramon put his forearm on the table and leaned +forward with an ironic smile. "But your point is well made, Pedro. Lies +spread on the wings of the wind. I shall forestall any slanderous +untruths by having a photograph taken of you before the execution, and +another of your body afterward. I thank you for the suggestion." + +Though it told against him the American knew this was a bull's-eye hit. +A photograph of him in his rags, with his serape and his ventilated +sombrero, face as brown as a berry, would be sufficient proof to +exonerate Culvera of the charge of having shot an American. Steve had +made up too well for the part. At worst Culvera could plead a +regrettable mistake. + +"You make out a good case against Pedro Cabenza, general," admitted the +condemned man evenly. "Good enough. We'll put him in the discard. I +suppose you won't deny that Threewit and Farrar and Miss Seymour are +Americans." + +With a confidential grin Ramon nodded. "You've put your finger on the +pulse of my difficulty. You see, I talk to you frankly because I have +the best of reasons for knowing you will never betray me. No doubt you +recall your proverb about dead men telling tales. Just so. Well, I don't +know what the devil to do with your friends Farrar and Threewit. I have +nothing against them, but if I send them home they will talk. Would it +be best, do you think, to arrange an accident for them while on the way +back to Arizona?" + +"Not at all. I'll make a written confession, and they can sign it as +witnesses, that I plotted against Pasquale and was implicated in his +murder. That will let you out nicely, general. Then you can send them +home, and the young lady in their care. So you will even scores with me +quite safely to yourself." + +The Mexican commander looked steadily out of the window at a dog +scratching himself in the street. "I don't recall mentioning the young +lady. Her future is arranged." + +The temples of the cowpuncher throbbed. He pretended to misunderstand +the meaning of the other man. "Of course. I understand that you can do +nothing else but send her home. The one thing that would bring our army +across the line on the jump would be for you to hurt a hair of this +girl's head. You could kill a dozen men and get away with it quicker +than you could to insult one little girl. But, of course, you know +that." + +The fingers of Culvera drummed absently on the table. "I think the +senorita and I will be able to adjust the matter without any help from +you. If you have any last messages for her I'll be glad to carry them, +since I expect to see her this evening." + +Steve had disdained to beg for himself, but now he begged for the girl +he loved. + +"You're a man, Ramon Culvera. Nobody ever claimed there is any yellow in +you. Your father was a gentleman and so is his son. You fight with men +and not with timid girls. You wouldn't do this girl dirt because she is +alone and has no friends near. Think of your own sisters, man." + +Ochampa moved restlessly in his chair. "We had better send the girl +home. She will bring us trouble else." + +His superior officer flashed a quick look at him. "That is a bridge we +shall cross when we come to it. Meanwhile I say adios, Senor Yeager. +Shall I send you the padre?" + +"Thanks, no! But remember this. You stake your whole future on the +treatment you give Miss Seymour. If you don't play fair with her, you +lose." + +Ramon clapped his hands three times. A soldier entered the room. + +"Take the Gringo back to his prison," ordered Culvera. + +"The order stands, general? At sunset?" asked the man. + +"It stands," assented Ramon; and turned to Ochampa: "Have you agreed on +a price for that bunch of cattle with the Flying D rustlers, major?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +CULVERA RECONSIDERS + + +Spurred by Daisy Ellington, the star of the border Lunar Company had +kept the wires hot with messages to "the old man" in New York. To do him +justice the president of the company rose to the occasion as soon as it +was impressed upon his mind that Threewit and the others were in serious +danger. He telegraphed for Lennox to meet him in Washington and hurried +to the Capitol himself to lay the case before the senior Senator from +New York, a statesman who happened to be under political obligations to +him. + +The Arizona congressional delegation was called into conference and an +appointment made to meet the President of the United States. As soon as +Lennox reached the city, he was hurried to the White House, where he +told the story before the President and the Secretary of State. + +The case called for prompt action. Instructions were wired to Captain +Girard, stationed with his company at Bisbee, Arizona, to act as a +special envoy from the President to General Pasquale. + +Girard, with a corporal, two saddle-horses, and a pack-horse, entrained +at once. Four hours later he was dropped at a tank station, from which +point he and the corporal struck straight into the barren desert. The +glare of the afternoon sun was slanting down upon them when they +started. Their shadows grew longer as they rode. The sun, a ball of +fire, dropped below the distant horizon edge and left a sky of wonder to +drive a painter to despair. + +The gold and crimson and purple softened as the minutes passed. The +distant ridges were no longer flamed with edgings of fire. A deep purple +predominated and was lightened presently to a velvet violet haze. Then +the stars came out, close and cold and innumerable. + +Still Girard rode, taking advantage of the cool breath of night. Toward +morning he stopped at a sand-wash where three or four dusty cottonwoods +relieved the vegetation of mesquite, palo verde, and cacti. Among the +rocks a spring rose hesitant to the surface and struggled faintly for +life against the palpitating heat and thirsty drought of the desert. + +The corporal hobbled the horses. The men stretched themselves in the +sand and fell into deep sleep. It was noon when they awoke. They ate, +lounged in such shade as the cottonwoods offered from the quivering +heat, and waited till mid-afternoon. Having saddled and repacked, they +struck again across the dreary roll of sandhills and washes. When Noche +Buena lay at their feet the sun was low in the sky. + +Into the dusty main street of the village the two men rode at a walk. A +sentinel with a rifle stopped them. Girard explained that he wanted to +see Pasquale. + +"He is dead--shot by a Gringo who has gone to hell already. And another +Gringo will be shot when the sun falls below the hills, and perhaps +another to-morrow. Who knows? You, too, may pay for the death of the +Liberator," jeered the sentry. + +"Pasquale dead--and shot by an American?" asked the captain in surprise. + +"As I have said. But General Culvera killed the dog in his tracks. Ho, +Manuel! Call an officer. A Gringo wants to see the general," he shouted +to a barefoot trooper crouched in the shade of an adobe house. + +Girard explained to the officer that he was a messenger from the +President of the United States. He and the corporal were searched and +their arms removed. + +The Mexican officer apologized. "Since Pasquale was murdered, we take no +chances," he explained. "You understand I do not at all doubt you are +what you say. But we search all strangers to make sure." + +After Culvera had glanced over the credentials of Girard, he was all +suavity. "I offer you a hundred welcomes; first for yourself, as an +officer of the army of our sister Republic, and second as an envoy from +your President, for whom I have a most profound respect. But not a word +of your mission until we have dined. You will want first of all a bath +after your long dusty trip. May I offer you my own quarters for the +present till arrangements can be made?" + +Captain Girard bowed. "You are very kind, general. Believe me, I +appreciate your courtesy. But first I must raise one point. I have been +told that an American is to be executed at sunset, which is almost +immediately. You will understand that as a representative of the United +States it is necessary that I should investigate the facts." + +Swiftly Culvera considered. If the American officer had arrived an hour +later, Yeager would have been safely out of the way. How had he +discovered already that an American was to be shot? Was it worth while +denying it? But what if Girard insisted on seeing the execution? What if +he asked to see Yeager? Ramon's glance swept the obstinate face of the +captain. He decided it better to acknowledge the truth. + +"It is to me a matter of profound regret," he sighed. "The man enlisted +in our army as a spy, disguised as a peon. He is guilty of the murder +of one of our men in a gambling-house. He attempted to kill General +Pasquale a short time ago. He was undoubtedly in league with the man +Holcomb, the assassin of our great general. He shot Major Ochampa, but +fortunately the major is recovering. The man is a border ruffian of the +worst stamp." + +"May I talk with him, general?" + +"But certainly--if the man is still living," assented the Mexican. + +The American officer looked straight at Ramon. His steady eyes made no +accusation, mirrored no suspicion. Culvera could not tell what he was +thinking. But he recognized resentfully a compulsion in them that he +could not safely ignore. + +"With your permission I should like to talk also with Miss Seymour and +the two moving-picture men," said Captain Girard. + +The Mexican adventurer announced a decision he had come to that very +instant, one to which the inconvenient arrival of the envoy from the +President of the United States had driven him. + +"I am making arrangements to have them all three taken safely back to +Arixico. Between you and me, captain, old Pasquale was something of a +savage. It is my purpose to win and hold the friendship of the United +States. I don't underestimate Pasquale. He was my friend and chief. He +made a free Mexico possible. But he was primitive. He did not understand +international relations. He treated the citizens of your great country +according to his whims. That was a mistake. I shall so act as to win the +approval of your great President." + +"I am very glad to hear that. The surest foundation upon which you can +build for a free Mexico is justice for all, general. And now, if I may +see Yeager." + +A messenger was sent to bring the prisoner. He found an officer with a +firing party already crossing the plaza to the place of execution. The +prisoner was bareheaded, ragged, unkempt. His arms were tied by the +elbows behind his back. But the spirit of the unbeaten spoke in his eyes +and trod in his limping step. + +"The general wishes to see the prisoner," explained the messenger to the +officer. + +The party wheeled at a right angle, toward the headquarters of Culvera. + +Steve thought he understood what this meant. Culvera had sent for him to +gloat over him, to taunt him. The man wanted to hear him beg for his +life. The teeth of the cowpuncher clenched tightly till the muscles of +the jaw stood out like ropes. He would show this man that an American +did not face a firing squad with a whine. + +At sight of the captain of cavalry sitting beside Culvera the heart of +Yeager leaped. The long arm of Uncle Sam had reached across the border +in the person of this competent West Pointer. It meant salvation for +Ruth, for his friends, possibly even for himself. + +"Captain Girard wants to ask you a few questions," Culvera explained. + +Without waiting for questions Yeager spoke. "Do you know that an +American girl is held prisoner here, captain,--that Pasquale was driving +her to a forced marriage when Holcomb shot him to save her?" + +Girard turned toward the general, a question in his eyes. + +Ramon shrugged his shoulders. "I told you Pasquale was a barbarian. The +trouble is he was a peon. He took what he wanted." + +"Her name is Ruth Seymour. She's a fine girl, captain. You'll save her, +of course, and see that she gets home," continued Steve. + +"I have the promise of General Culvera to see her and your friends safe +to Arixico," replied Girard. + +"You'll ride with them yourself all the way," urged the prisoner. + +"No doubt. But, of course, the word of General Culvera--" + +"--Is worth what it is worth," Yeager finished for him. + +"The man stands in the shadow of death. Let him say what he likes," said +the Mexican contemptuously to the officer beside him. + +"You are charged with being a spy, Mr. Yeager. I am told you were +captured in disguise after having plotted to help prisoners escape," +said Girard. + +Yeager nodded quietly. "Technically I am a spy. I came here to try to +save Miss Seymour and my friends. The attempt failed and I was +captured." + +"Are you a spy in the sense that you were in the employ of the enemies +of General Pasquale and his armies?" + +"No. Culvera understands that perfectly well. I came only to look out +for my friends." + +Girard knew what manner of man Yeager was. He intended to save his life +if it could be done. This would be possible only if Culvera could be +made to feel that it would cost too much to punish him. + +"It is claimed that you attempted the life of General Pasquale once." + +"Nothing to that. I was a prisoner, condemned to be shot in the morning. +He came to my cell and offered me my life if I would knife Culvera in +the back. I couldn't see the proposition. But I got a chance, knocked +him down, tied him up, and slipped out in his serape. Then I made my +getaway on the horse he had left for me in case I came through with the +knifing." + +Instantly Culvera knew the story to be true. It cannot be said that he +was grateful to Yeager, but the edge of his resentment against him was +dulled. + +"Sounds like a plausible story, doesn't it?" he suggested ironically. +"Why should Pasquale want the death of his friend, his lieutenant, the +man who was closest to him among all his followers?" + +"Send for Juan Garcia. He was on sentry duty that night. Ask him as to +the facts," the cowpuncher proposed. + +Girard turned to his host and spoke to him in a low voice. "General, +this man has a good reputation at home. He has a host of friends in +Arizona. I believe he is speaking the truth. Perhaps General Pasquale +may have been too hasty. Let us send for all the witnesses and make a +thorough investigation of the charges against him. I shall be called to +Washington after I have wired my report. The President, no doubt, will +question me. Make it possible for me to tell him that under the rule of +General Culvera a regime begins that is founded on justice for all." + +Culvera was far from a fool. He had lived in the United States and +understood something of the temper of its people. The fall of Huerta +was potent proof that no ruler could survive in Mexico if the +Government at Washington was set in opposition to him. After all, the +life of Yeager was only a small matter. Why not use him as a pawn in the +game to win the approval of the big Republic to the north? + +With his most engaging smile Ramon offered his hand to Captain Girard. +"You are right. Pasquale was a child, a creature of moods, of foolish +suspicions and tempestuous passions. Perhaps this man tells the truth. +It may be he has been condemned unjustly. You and I, my friend, shall +sit in judgment on him. If he be guilty, we shall condemn; if innocent, +acquit. Meanwhile I will remand him to prison and order the execution +postponed. Does that satisfy you, captain?" + +The American officer shook hands warmly. "General, it is a pleasure to +meet a man like you. Mexico is fortunate in having such a son." + +Culvera beamed. "Gracias. And now, captain, first a bath, then dinner. +Afterwards you shall talk with the moving-picture men." He turned +affably to Yeager. "I shall give orders that you be given a good dinner +to-night. To-morrow we shall pass judgment on you." + +Steve nodded to the West Pointer. "Much obliged, captain." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +AS LONG AS LIFE + + +Breakfast was served to Yeager next morning by a guard who either knew +nothing or would tell nothing of what was going on in the camp. After he +had eaten, nobody came near the prisoner for hours. Through the barred +window he could see a sentry pacing up and down or squatting in the +shade of the deserted building opposite. No other sign of human life +reached him. + +His nerves were keyed to a high tension. Culvera was an opportunist. +Perhaps something had occurred to make him change his mind. Perhaps he +had decided, after all, not to play for the approval of the United +States. In revolutionary Mexico much can happen in a few hours. + +Steve was a man of action. It did not suit his temperament to sit cooped +up in a prison while things were being done that affected the happiness +of Ruth and his own life. He tried to persuade himself that all was +going well, but as the fever of his anxiety mounted, he found himself +limping up and down the short beat allowed him from wall to wall. + +It was noon before he was taken from his cell. Steve counted it a good +augury that a saddle horse was waiting for him to ride. Last night he +had limped across the plaza on his wounded leg. + +He and his little procession of guards cut straight across to +headquarters. Culvera sat on the porch smoking a cigarette. He was +dressed immaculately in a suit of white linen with a blue sash. His +gold-trimmed sombrero was a work of art. + +At sight of Yeager the Mexican general smiled blandly. + +"Are you ready to take a long journey, Senor Yeager?" he asked. + +The heart of the cowpuncher lost a beat, but he did not bat an eye. +"What journey? The same one that Holcomb took?" he demanded bluntly. + +Culvera showed a face of pained surprise. "Am I a barbarian? Do you +think me another Pasquale? No, no, senor. You and I have had our +disagreements. But they are past. To tell the truth, I always did like +the way you see a thing through to a fighting finish. Now that I know +you are not the ruffian I had been led to think you, it is a pleasure to +me to tell you that you have been tried and acquitted. I offer regrets +for the inconvenience to which you have been put. You will pardon, is it +not so, and do me the honor to dine with me before you leave?" + +The heels of the Mexican came together, he bowed, and offered a hand to +the range-rider. + +"Just one moment, general. All that listens fine to me, but--what are +the conditions?" + +Ramon made a gesture of regret at being so sadly misunderstood. +"Conditions! There are none." + +"None at all?" + +"None. Is it that you think me a peddler instead of a gentleman?" The +face of the young Mexican expressed sorrow rather than anger. + +Still Steve doubted. "Let's understand each other, general. Are you +telling me that I can walk out of that door, climb into a saddle, and +keep going till I get back into old Arizona?" + +"I tell you that--and more. You will be furnished an escort to see you +safely across the line. You may choose your own guard if you doubt." + +"And my friends?" + +"They go, too, of course." + +"All of them?" + +The Mexican smiled. "You're the most suspicious man I ever knew. All of +them, Senor Yeager." + +"Including Miss Seymour?" The range-rider spoke quietly, but his eyes +were like swords. + +"Naturally she will not wish to stay here when her friends leave." + +Steve leaned against the porch post with a deep breath of relaxation. +"If I'm sleeping, don't let any one wake me, general," he implored, +smiling for the first time. + +"I confess your amazement surprises me," said Culvera suavely. "Did you +think all Mexicans were like Pasquale? He was a great man, but he was a +savage. Also, he was a child at statecraft. I used to warn him to +cooeperate with the United States if he wished to succeed. But he was +ignorant and eaten up with egotism." + +"You're right he was, general." + +"A new policy is now in operation. In freeing you I ask only that you +set me and my army right with your people. Let them understand that we +stand for a free Mexico and for justice." + +The hands of the two men gripped. + +"I'll sure do my share, general." + +"We're to have a little luncheon before you go. Captain Girard and your +friends are to be my guests. You will join us; not so?" + +"Gracias, general. Count me in." + +The black eyes of the Mexican twinkled. "Your wound--does it greatly +trouble you, senor?" + +"Some. When I walk." + +"Too bad. I was going to ask you to step upstairs and tell Senorita +Seymour that General Culvera will be delighted to have her join us at +luncheon. But, of course, since your leg troubles you--" + +"It's a heap better already, general. You're giving me good medicine." + +"Ah! I think you know the lady's room. But perhaps I had better call a +peon." + +The eyes of the cowpuncher were bright. "Now, don't you, general. Keep +on talking and you're liable to spoil what you've said," answered Steve +with his old gay laugh. + +He hobbled out of the room and up the stairs. + +The door of Ruth's room was open. She sat huddled in a chair looking +straight before her. There were shadows under her young eyes that never +should have been there. Her lissome figure had lost its gallantry, the +fine poise that had given her a note of wild freedom. Steve had come up +so quietly that she evidently had not heard, for she did not turn her +weary head to see who it was. + +He stood a moment, hesitating on the threshold. She sat without moving, +a pathetic picture of despair and grief. A man had died for her +yesterday. Another man was to die to-day because he had tried to save +her. She herself was in danger still. The tragedy of life had carried +her beyond tears. + +When he moved forward a step she turned. Her lips parted in surprise. +The dark eyes under her tumbled, blue-black hair stared in astonishment. +Slowly she rose, never lifting her gaze from him. With a little cry of +wonder she stretched her arms toward this man who had come to her as if +from the dead. + +In two strides he reached her and swept the girl into his arms. He +kissed the tired eyes, the tousled hair, the soft cheeks into which the +color began to flow. She clung to him, afraid to let him go, uncertain +whether it was a reality. + +At last she spoke. "It _is_ you, isn't it? I thought ... they told +me ... that you...." + +He laughed softly with the joy of it all. "I'm free--free to go home +with you, Ruth,--back to God's country, to friends and life and love." + +"Are you going to take me, too?" she asked with naive simplicity. + +"Is it likely I'd go without you? Yes, we're all going. Culvera has seen +the light. Soon all this will be like a nightmare from which we have +escaped. That's right, honey. Cry if you want to. Little girl, little +girl, how am I ever going to tell you how much I love you?" + +She wept with gladness and relief while he held her tightly in his arms +and promised to keep her against all harm as long as life lasted. + +And afterward, when smiles came again, they fell into the inarticulate +babblings that from the beginning of time have been the expression of +lovers. + +They forgot time, so that neither knew how long it had been before a +denim-clad soldier stood saluting in the doorway. + +Steve, over his shoulder, fired a question at the man. "What do you +want?" + +"The compliments of General Culvera, senor and senorita, and I was to +remind you that luncheon has been waiting twenty minutes." + +Steve and Ruth looked at each other and laughed. 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