351 files changed, 28714 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/26911-8.txt b/26911-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..653f1c2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,9406 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Crooked Trails and Straight, by 
+William MacLeod Raine and D. C. Hutchison
+
+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: Crooked Trails and Straight
+
+Author: William MacLeod Raine
+        D. C. Hutchison
+
+Release Date: October 13, 2008 [EBook #26911]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THIS SLENDER GIRL DUMFOUNDED THEM _Frontispiece Page 41_]
+
+
+
+
+CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT
+
+BY
+WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE
+
+AUTHOR OF
+BRAND BLOTTERS, BUCKY O'CONNOR, MAVERICKS,
+WYOMING, RIDGWAY OF MONTANA, A TEXAS RANGER, etc.
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS BY
+D. C. HUTCHISON
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+PUBLISHERS--NEW YORK
+
+Made in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+Copyright, 1913, by
+G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
+
+Crooked Trails and Straight
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+PART I
+
+CURLY
+
+CHAPTER                                               PAGE
+     I.  Following a Crooked Trail                       9
+    II.  Camping with Old Man Trouble                   23
+   III.  At the End of the Road                         33
+    IV.  The Cullisons                                  49
+     V.  Laura London                                   60
+    VI.  A Bear Trap                                    74
+   VII.  Bad Medicine                                   84
+  VIII.  A Rehearsed Quarrel                            94
+    IX.  Eavesdropping                                 110
+     X.  "Stick to Your Saddle"                        131
+
+PART II
+
+LUCK
+
+     I.  At the Round Up Club                          143
+    II.  Luck Meets an Old Acquaintance                151
+   III.  An Initialed Hat                              157
+    IV.  Kate Uses Her Quirt                           169
+     V.  "Ain't She the Gamest Little Thoroughbred?"   178
+    VI.  Two Hats On A Rack                            194
+   VII.  Anonymous Letters                             200
+  VIII.  A Message in Cipher                           213
+    IX.  "The Friends of L. C. Serve Notice"           220
+     X.  Cass Fendrick Makes a Call                    233
+    XI.  A Compromise                                  245
+   XII.  An Arrest                                     254
+  XIII.  A Conversation                                265
+   XIV.  A Touch of the Third Degree                   270
+    XV.  Bob Takes a Hand                              282
+   XVI.  A Clean Up                                    294
+  XVII.  The Prodigal Son                              312
+ XVIII.  Cutting Trail                                 316
+   XIX.  A Good Samaritan                              323
+    XX.  Loose Threads                                 337
+
+
+
+
+CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT
+
+PART I
+
+CURLY
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+FOLLOWING A CROOKED TRAIL
+
+
+Across Dry Valley a dust cloud had been moving for hours. It rolled into
+Saguache at the brisk heels of a bunch of horses just about the time the
+town was settling itself to supper. At the intersection of Main and La
+Junta streets the cloud was churned to a greater volume and density. From
+out of the heart of it cantered a rider, who swung his pony as on a half
+dollar, and deflected the remuda toward Chunn's corral.
+
+The rider was in the broad-rimmed felt hat, the gray shirt, the plain
+leather chaps of a vaquero. The alkali dust of Arizona lay thick on every
+exposed inch of him, but youth bloomed inextinguishably through the grime.
+As he swept forward with a whoop to turn the lead horses it rang in his
+voice, announced itself in his carriage, was apparent in the modeling of
+his slim, hard body. Under other conditions he might have been a college
+freshman for age, but the competent confidence of manhood sat easily on
+his broad shoulders. He was already a graduate of that school of
+experience which always holds open session on the baked desert. Curly
+Flandrau had more than once looked into the chill eyes of death.
+
+The leaders of the herd dribbled into the corral through the open gate,
+and the others crowded on their heels. Three more riders followed Curly
+into the enclosure. Upon them, too, the desert had sifted its white coat.
+The stained withers of the animals they rode told of long, steady travel.
+One of them, a red-haired young fellow of about the same age as Curly,
+swung stiffly from the saddle.
+
+"Me for a square meal first off," he gave out promptly.
+
+"Not till we've finished this business, Mac. We'll put a deal right
+through if Warren's here," decided a third member of the party. He was a
+tough-looking customer of nearly fifty. From out of his leathery
+sun-and-wind beaten face, hard eyes looked without expression. "Bad Bill"
+Cranston he was called, and the man looked as if he had earned his
+sobriquet.
+
+"And what if he ain't here?" snarled the fourth. "Are you aiming to sit
+down and wait for him?"
+
+"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Bad Bill answered. "Curly,
+want to ride up to the hotel and ask if Mr. Dave Warren is there? Bring
+him right down if he is."
+
+"And say, young fellow, don't shout all over the place what your business
+is with him," ordered the previous speaker sulkily. Lute Blackwell, a
+squat heavily muscled man of forty, had the manner of a bully. Unless his
+shifty eyes lied he was both cruel and vindictive.
+
+Curly's gaze traveled over him leisurely. Not a muscle in the boyish face
+moved, but in the voice one might have guessed an amused contempt. "All
+right. I won't, since you mention it, Lute."
+
+The young man cantered up the dusty street toward the hotel. Blackwell
+trailed toward the windmill pump.
+
+"Thought you'd fixed it with this Warren to be right on the spot so's we
+could unload on him prompt," he grumbled at Cranston without looking
+toward the latter.
+
+"I didn't promise he'd be hanging round your neck soon as you hit town,"
+Cranston retorted coolly. "Keep your shirt on, Lute. No use getting in a
+sweat."
+
+The owner of the corral sauntered from the stable and glanced over the
+bunch of horses milling around.
+
+"Been traveling some," he suggested to Bad Bill.
+
+"A few. Seen anything of a man named Warren about town to-day?"
+
+"He's been down here se-ve-re-al times. Said he was looking for a party
+with stock to sell. Might you be the outfit he's expecting?"
+
+"We might." Bad Bill took the drinking cup from Blackwell and drained it.
+"I reckon the dust was caked in my throat an inch deep."
+
+"Drive all the way from the Bar Double M?" asked the keeper of the corral,
+his eyes on the brand stamped on the flank of a pony circling past.
+
+"Yep."
+
+Bad Bill turned away and began to unsaddle. He did not intend to volunteer
+any information, though on the other hand he did not want to stir
+suspicion by making a mystery for gossips to chew on.
+
+"Looks like you been hitting the road at a right lively gait."
+
+Mac cut in. "Shoulder of my bronc's chafed from the saddle. Got anything
+that'll heal it?"
+
+"You bet I have." The man hurried into the stable and the redheaded
+cowpuncher winked across the back of his horse at Bill.
+
+The keeper of the stable and the young man were still busy doctoring the
+sore when Curly arrived with Warren. The buyer was a roundbodied man with
+black gimlet eyes that saw much he never told. The bargain he drove was a
+hard one, but it did not take long to come to terms at about one-third the
+value of the string he was purchasing. Very likely he had his suspicions,
+but he did not voice them. No doubt they cut a figure in the price. He let
+it be understood that he was a supply agent for the rebels in Mexico.
+Before the bills were warm in the pockets of the sellers, his vaqueros
+were mounted and were moving the remuda toward the border.
+
+Curly and Mac helped them get started. As they rode back to the corral a
+young man came out from the stable. Flandrau forgot that there were
+reasons why he wanted just now to be a stranger in the land with his
+identity not advertised. He let out a shout.
+
+"Oh you, Slats Davis!"
+
+"Hello, Curly! How are things a-comin'?"
+
+"Fine. When did you blow in to Saguache? Ain't you off your run some?"
+
+They had ridden the range together and had frolicked around on a dozen
+boyish larks. Their ways had suited each other and they had been a good
+deal more than casual bunkies. To put it mildly the meeting was likely to
+prove embarrassing.
+
+"Came down to see about getting some cows for the old man from the
+Fiddleback outfit," Davis explained. "Didn't expect to bump into friends
+'way down here. You riding for the Bar Double M?"
+
+There was a momentary silence. Curly's vigilant eyes met those of his old
+side partner. What did Slats know? Had he been in the stable while the
+remuda was still in the corral? Had he seen them with Bad Bill and
+Blackwell? Were his suspicions already active?
+
+"No, I'm riding for the Map of Texas," Flandrau answered evenly.
+
+"Come on, Curly. Let's go feed our faces," Mac called from the stable.
+
+Flandrau nodded. "You still with the Hashknife?" he asked Davis.
+
+"Still with 'em. I've been raised to assistant foreman."
+
+"Bully for you. That's great. All right, Mac. I'm coming. That's sure
+great, old hoss. Well, see you later, Slats."
+
+Flandrau followed Mac, dissatisfied with himself for leaving his friend so
+cavalierly. In the old days they had told each other everything, had
+talked things out together before many a campfire. He guessed Slats would
+be hurt, but he had to think of his partners in this enterprise.
+
+After supper they took a room at the hotel and divided the money Warren
+had paid for the horses. None of them had slept for the last fifty hours
+and Mac proposed to tumble into bed at once.
+
+Bad Bill shook his head. "I wouldn't, Mac. Let's hit the trail and do our
+sleeping in the hills. There's too many telephone lines into this town to
+suit me."
+
+"Sho! We made a clean getaway, and we're plumb wore out. Our play isn't to
+hike out like we were scared stiff of something. What we want to do is to
+act as if we could look every darned citizen in the face. Mac's sure
+right," Curly agreed.
+
+"You kids make me tired. As if you knew anything about it. I'm going to
+dust _muy pronto_," Blackwell snarled.
+
+"Sure. Whenever you like. You go and we'll stay. Then everybody'll be
+satisfied. We got to split up anyhow," Mac said.
+
+Bad Bill looked at Blackwell and nodded. "That's right. We don't all want
+to pull a blue streak. That would be a dead give away. Let the kids stay
+if they want to."
+
+"So as they can round on us if they're nabbed," Blackwell sneered.
+
+Cranston called him down roughly. "That'll be enough along that line,
+Lute. I don't stand for any more cracks like it."
+
+Blackwell, not three months out from the penitentiary, faced the other
+with an ugly look in his eyes. He was always ready to quarrel, but he did
+not like to fight unless he had a sure thing. He knew Bad Bill was an ugly
+customer when he once got started.
+
+"Didn't mean any harm," the ex-convict growled. "But I don't like this
+sticking around town. I tell you straight I don't like it."
+
+"Then I wouldn't stay if I were you," Curly suggested promptly. "Mac and I
+have got a different notion. So we'll tie to Saguache for a day or two."
+
+As soon as the older men had gone the others tumbled into bed and fell
+asleep at once. Daylight was sifting in through the open window before
+their eyes opened. Somebody was pounding on the bedroom door, which
+probably accounted for Flandrau's dream that a sheriff was driving nails
+in the lid of a coffin containing one Curly.
+
+Mac was already out of bed when his partner's feet hit the floor.
+
+"What's up, Mac?"
+
+The eyes of the redheaded puncher gleamed with excitement. His six-gun was
+in his hand. By the look of him he was about ready to whang loose through
+the door.
+
+"Hold your horses, you chump," Curly sang out "It's the hotel clerk. I
+left a call with him."
+
+But it was not the hotel clerk after all. Through the door came a quick,
+jerky voice.
+
+"That you, Curly? For God's sake, let me in."
+
+Before he had got the words out the door was open. Slats came in and shut
+it behind him. He looked at Mac, the forty-five shaking in the boy's hand,
+and he looked at Flandrau.
+
+"They're after you," he said, breathing fast as if he had been running.
+
+"Who?" fired Curly back at him.
+
+"The Bar Double M boys. They just reached town."
+
+"Put up that gun, Mac, and move into your clothes immediate," ordered
+Curly. Then to Davis: "Go on. Unload the rest. What do they know?"
+
+"They inquired for you and your friend here down at the Legal Tender. The
+other members of your party they could only guess at."
+
+"Have we got a chance to make our getaway?" Mac asked.
+
+Davis nodded. "Slide out through the kitchen, cut into the alley, and
+across lots to the corral. We'll lock the door and I'll hold them here
+long as I can."
+
+"Good boy, Slats. If there's a necktie party you'll get the first bid,"
+Curly grinned.
+
+Slats looked at him, cold and steady. Plainer than words he was telling
+his former friend that he would not joke with a horse thief. For the sake
+of old times he would save him if he could, but he would call any bluffs
+about the whole thing being a lark.
+
+Curly's eyes fell away. It came to him for the first time that he was no
+longer an honest man. Up till this escapade he had been only wild, but now
+he had crossed the line that separates decent folks from outlaws. He had
+been excited with liquor when he joined in this fool enterprise, but that
+made no difference now. He was a rustler, a horse thief. If he lived a
+hundred years he could never get away from the disgrace of it.
+
+Not another word was said while they hurried into their clothes. But as
+Curly passed out of the door he called back huskily. "Won't forget what
+you done for us, Slats."
+
+Again their eyes met. Davis did not speak, but the chill look on his face
+told Flandrau that he had lost a friend.
+
+The two young men ran down the back stairs, passed through the kitchen
+where a Chinese cook was getting breakfast, and out into the bright
+sunlight. Before they cut across to the corral their eyes searched for
+enemies. Nobody was in sight except the negro janitor of a saloon busy
+putting empty bottles into a barrel.
+
+"Won't do to be in any hurry. The play is we're gentlemen of leisure, just
+out for an amble to get the mo'ning air," Curly cautioned.
+
+While they fed, watered, and saddled they swapped gossip with the
+wrangler. It would not do to leave the boy with a story of two riders in
+such a hurry to hit the trail that they could not wait to feed their
+bronchos. So they stuck it out while the animals ate, though they were
+about as contented as a two-pound rainbow trout on a hook. One of them was
+at the door all the time to make sure the way was still clear. At that
+they shaved it fine, for as they rode away two men were coming down the
+street.
+
+"Kite Bonfils," Curly called to his partner.
+
+No explanation was needed. Bonfils was the foreman of the Bar Double M. He
+let out a shout as he caught sight of them and began to run forward.
+Simultaneously his gun seemed to jump from its holster.
+
+Mac's quirt sang and his pony leaped to a canter in two strides. A bullet
+zipped between them. Another struck the dust at their heels. Faintly there
+came to the fugitives the sound of the foreman's impotent curses. They had
+escaped for the time.
+
+Presently they passed the last barb wire fence and open country lay before
+them. It did not greatly matter which direction they followed, so long as
+they headed into the desert.
+
+"What we're looking for is a country filled with absentees," Curly
+explained with a grin.
+
+Neither of them had ever been in serious trouble before and both regretted
+the folly that had turned their drunken spree into a crime. Once or twice
+they came to the edge of a quarrel, for Mac was ready to lay the blame on
+his companion. Moreover, he had reasons why the thing he had done loomed
+up as a heinous offense.
+
+His reasons came out before the camp fire on Dry Sandy that evening. They
+were stretched in front of it trying to make a smoke serve instead of
+supper. Mac broke a gloomy silence to grunt out jerkily a situation he
+could no longer keep to himself.
+
+"Here's where I get my walking papers I reckon. No rustlers need apply."
+
+Curly shot a slant glance at him. "Meaning--the girl?"
+
+The redheaded puncher nodded. "She'll throw me down sure. Why shouldn't
+she? I tell you I've ruined my life. You're only a kid. What you know
+about it?"
+
+He took from his coat pocket a photograph and showed it to his friend. The
+sweet clean face of a wholesome girl smiled at Curly.
+
+"She's ce'tainly a right nice young lady. I'll bet she stands by you all
+right. Where's she live at?"
+
+"Waits in a restaurant at Tombstone. We was going to be married soon as we
+had saved five hundred dollars." Mac swallowed hard. "And I had to figure
+out this short cut to the money whilst I was drunk. As if she'd look at
+money made that way. Why, we'd a-been ready by Christmas if I'd only
+waited."
+
+Curly tried to cheer him up, but did not make much of a job at it. The
+indisputable facts were that Mac was an outlaw and a horse thief. Very
+likely a price was already on his head.
+
+The redheaded boy rolled another cigarette despondently. "Sho! I've cooked
+my goose. She'll not look at me--even if they don't send me to the pen."
+In a moment he added huskily, staring into the deepening darkness: "And
+she's the best ever. Her name's Myra Anderson."
+
+Abruptly Mac got up and disappeared in the night, muttering something
+about looking after the horses. His partner understood well enough what
+was the matter. The redheaded puncher was in a stress of emotion, and like
+the boy he was he did not want Curly to know it.
+
+Flandrau pretended to be asleep when Mac returned half an hour later.
+
+They slept under a live oak with the soundness of healthy youth. For the
+time they forgot their troubles. Neither of them knew that as the hours
+slipped away red tragedy was galloping closer to them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+CAMPING WITH OLD MAN TROUBLE
+
+
+The sun was shining in his face when Curly wakened. He sat up and rubbed
+his eyes. Mac was nowhere in sight. Probably he had gone to get the
+horses.
+
+A sound broke the stillness of the desert. It might have been the
+explosion of a giant firecracker, but Flandrau knew it was nothing so
+harmless. He leaped to his feet, and at the same instant Mac came running
+over the brow of the hill. A smoking revolver was in his hand.
+
+From behind the hill a gun cracked--then a second--and a third. Mac
+stumbled over his feet and pitched forward full length on the ground. His
+friend ran toward him, forgetting the revolver that lay in its holster
+under the live oak. Every moment he expected to see Mac jump up, but the
+figure stretched beside the cholla never moved. Flandrau felt the muscles
+round his heart tighten. He had seen sudden death before, but never had it
+come so near home.
+
+A bullet sent up a spurt of dust in front of him, another just on the
+left. Riders were making a half circle around the knoll and closing in on
+him. In his right mind Curly would have been properly frightened. But now
+he thought only of Mac lying there so still in the sand. Right into the
+fire zone he ran, knelt beside his partner, and lifted the red-thatched
+head. A little hole showed back of the left ear and another at the right
+temple. A bullet had plowed through the boy's skull.
+
+Softly Flandrau put the head back in the sand and rose to his feet. The
+revolver of the dead puncher was in his hand. The attackers had stopped
+shooting, but when they saw him rise a rifle puffed once more. The riders
+were closing in on him now. The nearest called to him to surrender. Almost
+at the same time a red hot pain shot through the left arm of the trapped
+rustler. Someone had nipped him from the rear.
+
+Curly saw red. Surrender nothing! He would go down fighting. As fast as he
+could blaze he emptied Mac's gun. When the smoke cleared the man who had
+ordered him to give up was slipping from his horse. Curly was surprised,
+but he knew he must have hit him by chance.
+
+"We got him. His gun's empty," someone shouted.
+
+Cautiously they closed in, keeping him covered all the time. Of a sudden
+the plain tilted up to meet the sky. Flandrau felt himself swaying on his
+feet. Everything went black. The boy had fainted.
+
+When he came to himself strange faces were all around him, and there were
+no bodies to go with them. They seemed to float about in an odd casual
+sort of way. Then things cleared.
+
+"He's coming to all right," one said.
+
+"Good. I'd hate to have him cheat the rope," another cried with an oath.
+
+"That's right. How is Cullison?"
+
+This was said to another who had just come up.
+
+"Hard hit. Looks about all in. Got him in the side."
+
+The rage had died out of Curly. In a flash he saw all that had come of
+their drunken spree: the rustling of the Bar Double M stock, the
+discovery, the death of his friend and maybe of Cullison, the certain
+punishment that would follow. He was a horse thief caught almost in the
+act. Perhaps he was a murderer too. And the whole thing had been entirely
+unpremeditated.
+
+Flandrau made a movement to rise and they jerked him to his feet.
+
+"You've played hell," one of the men told the boy.
+
+He was a sawed-off little fellow known as Dutch. Flandrau had seen him in
+the Map of Texas country try a year or two before. The rest were strangers
+to the boy. All of them looked at him out of hard hostile eyes. He was
+scarcely a human being to them; rather a wolf to be stamped out of
+existence as soon as it was convenient. A chill ran down Curly's spine. He
+felt as if someone were walking on his grave.
+
+At a shift in the group Flandrau's eyes fell on his friend lying in the
+sand with face turned whitely to the sky he never would see again. It came
+over him strangely enough how Mac used to break into a little chuckling
+laugh when he was amused. He had quit laughing now for good and all. A
+lump came into the boy's throat and he had to work it down before he
+spoke.
+
+"There's a picture in his pocket, and some letters I reckon. Send them to
+Miss Myra Anderson, Tombstone, care of one of the restaurants. I don't
+know which one."
+
+"Send nothin'," sneered Dutch, and coupled it with a remark no decent man
+makes of a woman on a guess.
+
+Because of poor Mac lying there with the little hole in his temple Curry
+boiled over. With a jerk his right arm was free. It shot out like a
+pile-driver, all his weight behind the blow. Dutch went down as if a
+charging bull had flung him.
+
+Almost simultaneously Curly hit the sand hard. Before he could stir three
+men were straddled over his anatomy. One of them ground his head into the
+dust.
+
+"You would, eh? We'll see about that. Jake, bring yore rope."
+
+They tied the hands of the boy, hauled him to his feet, and set him
+astride a horse. In the distance a windmill of the Circle C ranch was
+shining in the morning sun. Toward the group of buildings clustered around
+this two of his captors started with Flandrau. A third was already
+galloping toward the ranch house to telephone for a doctor.
+
+As they rode along a fenced lane which led to the house a girl came flying
+down the steps. She swung herself to the saddle just vacated by the
+messenger and pulled the horse round for a start. At sight of those coming
+toward her she called out quickly.
+
+"How is dad?" The quiver of fear broke in her voice.
+
+"Don' know yet, Miss Kate," answered one of the men. "He's right peart
+though. Says for to tell you not to worry. Don't you, either. We've got
+here the mangy son of a gun that did it."
+
+Before he had finished she was off like an arrow shot from a bow, but not
+until her eyes had fallen on the youth sitting bareheaded and bloody
+between the guns of his guard. Curly noticed that she had given a shudder,
+as one might at sight of a mangled mad dog which had just bit a dear
+friend. Long after the pounding of her pony's hoofs had died away the
+prisoner could see the startled eyes of fear and horror that had rested on
+him. As Curly kicked his foot out of the stirrup to dismount a light
+spring wagon rolled past him. In its bed were a mattress and pillows. The
+driver whipped up the horse and went across the prairie toward Dry Sandy
+Creek. Evidently he was going to bring home the wounded man.
+
+His guards put Flandrau in the bunk house and one of them sat at the door
+with a rifle across his knees. The cook, the stable boy, and redheaded Bob
+Cullison, a nephew of the owner of the ranch, peered past the _vaquero_ at
+the captive with the same awe they would have yielded to a caged panther.
+
+"Why, he's only a kid, Buck," the cook whispered.
+
+Buck chewed tobacco impassively. "Old enough to be a rustler and a
+killer."
+
+Bob's blue eyes were wide with interest "I'll bet he's a regular Billy the
+Kid," murmured the half-grown boy to the other lad.
+
+"Sure. Course he is. He's got bad eyes all right."
+
+"I'll bet he's got notches on his gun. Say, if Uncle Luck dies--" Bob left
+the result to the imagination.
+
+The excitement at the Circle C increased. Horses cantered up. Men shouted
+to each other the news. Occasionally some one came in to have a look at
+the "bad man" who had shot Luck Cullison. Young Flandrau lay on a cot and
+stared at the ceiling, paying no more attention to them than if they had
+been blocks of wood. It took no shrewdness to see that there burned in
+them a still cold anger toward him that might easily find expression in
+lynch law.
+
+The crunch of wagon wheels over disintegrated granite drifted to the bunk
+house.
+
+"They're bringing the boss back," Buck announced from the door to one of
+his visitors.
+
+The man joined him and looked over his shoulder. "Miss Kate there too?"
+
+"Yep. Say, if the old man don't pull through it will break her all up."
+
+The boy on the bed turned his face to the wall. He had not cried for ten
+years, but now he would have liked the relief of tears. The luck had
+broken bad for him, but it would be the worst ever if his random shot were
+to make Kate Cullison an orphan. A big lump rose in his throat and would
+not stay down. The irony of it was that he was staged for the part of a
+gray wolf on the howl, while he felt more like a little child that has
+lost its last friend.
+
+After a time there came again the crisp roll of wheels.
+
+"Doc Brown," announced Buck casually to the other men in the bunk house.
+
+There was more than one anxious heart at the Circle C waiting for the
+verdict of the bowlegged baldheaded little man with the satchel, but not
+one of them--no, not even Kate Cullison herself--was in a colder fear than
+Curly Flandrau. He was entitled to a deep interest, for if Cullison should
+die he knew that he would follow him within a few hours. These men would
+take no chances with the delays of the law.
+
+The men at the bunk house had offered more than once to look at Curly's
+arm, but the young man declined curtly. The bleeding had stopped, but
+there was a throb in it as if someone were twisting a red-hot knife in the
+wound. After a time Doctor Brown showed up in the doorway of the men's
+quarters.
+
+"Another patient here, they tell me," he grunted in the brusque way that
+failed to conceal the kindest of hearts.
+
+Buck nodded toward Flandrau.
+
+"Let's have a look at your arm, young fellow," the doctor ordered, mopping
+his bald head with a big bandanna handkerchief.
+
+"What about the boss?" asked Jake presently.
+
+"Mighty sick man, looks like. Tell you more to-morrow morning."
+
+"Do you mean that he--that he may not get well?" Curly pumped out, his
+voice not quite steady.
+
+Doctor Brown looked at him curiously. Somehow this boy did not fit the
+specifications of the desperado that had been poured into his ears.
+
+"Don't know yet. Won't make any promises." He had been examining the wound
+in a businesslike way. "Looks like the bullet's still in there. Have to
+give you an anesthetic while I dig it out."
+
+"Nothin' doing," retorted Flandrau. "You round up the pill in there and
+I'll stand the grief. When this lead hypodermic jabbed into my arm it
+sorter gave me one of them annie-what-d'ye-call-'em--and one's a-plenty
+for me."
+
+"It'll hurt," the little man explained.
+
+"Expect I'll find that out. Go to it."
+
+Brown had not been for thirty years carrying a medicine case across the
+dusty deserts of the frontier without learning to know men. He made no
+further protest but set to work.
+
+Twenty minutes later Curly lay back on the bunk with a sudden faintness.
+He was very white about the lips, but he had not once flinched from the
+instruments.
+
+The doctor washed his hands and his tools, pulled on his coat, and came
+across to the patient.
+
+"Feeling like a fighting cock, are you? Ready to tackle another posse?" he
+asked.
+
+"Not quite." The prisoner glanced toward his guards and his voice fell to
+a husky whisper. "Say, Doc. Pull Cullison through. Don't let him die."
+
+"Hmp! Do my best, young fellow. Seems to me you're thinking of that pretty
+late."
+
+Brown took up his medicine case and went back to the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+AT THE END OF THE ROAD
+
+
+Curly's wooden face told nothing of what he was thinking. The first
+article of the creed of the frontier is to be game. Good or bad, the last
+test of a man is the way he takes his medicine. So now young Flandrau ate
+his dinner with a hearty appetite, smoked cigarettes impassively, and
+occasionally chatted with his guards casually and as a matter of course.
+Deep within him was a terrible feeling of sickness at the disaster that
+had overwhelmed him, but he did not intend to play the quitter.
+
+Dutch and an old fellow named Sweeney relieved the other watchers about
+noon. The squat puncher came up and looked down angrily at the boy lying
+on the bunk.
+
+"I'll serve notice right now that if you make any breaks I'll fill your
+carcass full of lead," he growled.
+
+The prisoner knew that he was nursing a grudge for the blow that had
+floored him. Not to be bluffed, Curly came back with a jeer. "Much
+obliged, my sawed-off and hammered-down friend. But what's the matter with
+your face? It looks some lopsided. Did a mule kick you?"
+
+Sweeney gave his companion the laugh. "Better let him alone, Dutch. If he
+lands on you again like he did before your beauty ce'tainly will be
+spoiled complete."
+
+The little puncher's eyes snapped rage. "You'll get yours pretty soon, Mr.
+Curly Flandrau. The boys are fixin' to hang yore hide up to dry."
+
+"Does look that way, doesn't it?" the boy agreed quietly.
+
+As the day began to wear out it looked so more than ever. Two riders from
+the Bar Double M reached the ranch and were brought in to identify him as
+the horse thief. The two were Maloney and Kite Bonfils, neither of them
+friends of the young rustler. The foreman in particular was a wet blanket
+to his chances. The man's black eyes were the sort that never soften
+toward the follies and mistakes of youth.
+
+"You've got the right man all right," he said to Buck without answering
+Flandrau's cool nod of recognition.
+
+"What sort of a reputation has he got?" Buck asked, lowering his voice a
+little.
+
+Kite did not take the trouble to lower his. "Bad. Always been a tough
+character. Friend of Bad Bill Cranston and Soapy Stone."
+
+Dutch chipped in. "Shot up the Silver Dollar saloon onct. Pretty near beat
+Pete Schiff's head off another time."
+
+Curly laughed rather wildly. "That's right. Keep a-coming, boys. Your turn
+now, Maloney."
+
+"All right. Might as well have it all," Buck agreed.
+
+"I don't know anything against the kid, barring that he's been a little
+wild," Maloney testified. "And I reckon we ain't any of us prize Sunday
+school winners for that matter."
+
+"Are we all friends of Soapy Stone and Bad Bill? Do we all rustle stock
+and shoot up good citizens?" Dutch shrilled.
+
+Maloney's blue Irish eyes rested on the little puncher for a moment, then
+passed on as if he had been weighed and found wanting.
+
+"I've noticed," he said to nobody in particular, "that them hollering
+loudest for justice are most generally the ones that would hate to have it
+done to them."
+
+Dutch bristled like a turkey rooster. "What do you mean by that?"
+
+The Irishman smiled derisively. "I reckon you can guess if you try real
+hard."
+
+Dutch fumed, but did no guessing out loud. His reputation was a
+whitewashed one. Queer stories had been whispered about him. He had been a
+nester, and it was claimed that calves certainly not his had been found
+carrying his brand. The man had been full of explanations, but there came
+a time when explanations no longer were accepted. He was invited to become
+an absentee at his earliest convenience. This was when he had been living
+across the mountains. Curly had been one of those who had given the
+invitation. He had taken the hint and left without delay. Now he was
+paying the debt he owed young Flandrau.
+
+Though the role Curly had been given was that of the hardened desperado he
+could not quite live up to the part. As Buck turned to leave the bunk
+house the boy touched him on the arm.
+
+"How about Cullison?" he asked, very low.
+
+But Buck would not have it that way. "What about him?" he demanded out
+load, his voice grating like steel when it grinds.
+
+"Is he--how is he doing?"
+
+"What's eatin' you? Ain't he dying fast enough to suit you?"
+
+Flandrau shrank from the cruel words, as a schoolboy does from his teacher
+when he jumps at him with a cane. He understood how the men were feeling,
+but to have it put into words like this cut him deeply.
+
+It was then that Maloney made a friend of the young man for life. He let a
+hand drop carelessly on Curly's shoulder and looked at him with a friendly
+smile in his eyes, just as if he knew that this was no wolf but a poor
+lost dog up against it hard.
+
+"Doc thinks he'll make it all right."
+
+But there were times when Curly wondered whether it would make any
+difference to him whether Cullison got well or not. Something immediate
+was in the air. Public opinion was sifting down to a decision. There were
+wise nods, and whisperings, and men riding up and going off again in a
+hurry. There had been a good deal of lawlessness of late, for which Soapy
+Stone's band of followers was held responsible. Just as plainly as if he
+had heard the arguments of Dutch and Kite Bonfils he knew that they were
+urging the others to make an example of him. Most of these men were well
+up to the average for the milk of human kindness. They were the squarest
+citizens in Arizona. But Flandrau knew they would snuff out his life just
+the same if they decided it was best. Afterward they might regret it, but
+that would not help him.
+
+Darkness came, and the lamps were lit. Again Curly ate and smoked and
+chatted a little with his captors. But as he sat there hour after hour,
+feeling death creep closer every minute, cold shivers ran up and down his
+spine.
+
+They began to question him, at first casually and carelessly, so it seemed
+to Curly. But presently he discerned a drift in the talk. They were trying
+to find out who had been his partners in the rustling.
+
+"And I reckon Soapy and Bad Bill left you lads at Saguache to hold the
+sack," Buck suggested sympathetically.
+
+Curly grew wary. He did not intend to betray his accomplices. "Wrong
+guess. Soapy and Bad Bill weren't in this deal," he answered easily.
+
+"We know there were two others in it with you. I guess they were Soapy and
+Bad Bill all right."
+
+"There's no law against guessing."
+
+The foreman of the Bar Double M interrupted impatiently, tired of trying
+to pump out the information by finesse. "You've got to speak, Flandrau.
+You've got to tell us who was engineering this theft. Understand?"
+
+The young rustler looked at the grim frowning face and his heart sank.
+"Got to tell you, have I?"
+
+"That's what?"
+
+"Out with it," ordered Buck.
+
+"Oh, I expect I'll keep that under my hat," Curly told them lightly.
+
+They were crowded about him in a half circle, nearly a score of hard
+leather-faced plainsmen. Some of them were riders of the Circle C outfit.
+Others had ridden over from neighboring ranches. All of them plainly meant
+business. They meant to stamp out rustling, and their determination had
+been given an edge by the wounding of Luck Cullison, the most popular man
+in the county.
+
+"Think again, Curly," advised Sweeney quietly. "The boys ain't trifling
+about this thing. They mean to find out who was in the rustling of the Bar
+Double M stock."
+
+"Not through me, they won't."
+
+"Through you. And right now."
+
+A dozen times during the evening Curly had crushed down the desire to beg
+for mercy, to cry out desperately for them to let him off. He had kept
+telling himself not to show yellow, that it would not last long. Now the
+fear of breaking down sloughed from his soul. He rose from the bed and
+looked round at the brown faces circled about him in the shine of the
+lamps.
+
+"I'll not tell you a thing--not a thing."
+
+He stood there chalk-faced, his lips so dry that he had to keep moistening
+them with the tip of his tongue. Two thoughts hammered in his head. One
+was that he had come to the end of his trail, the other that he would game
+it out without weakening.
+
+Dutch had a new rope in his hand with a loop at one end. He tossed it over
+the boy's head and drew it taut. Two or three of the faces in the circle
+were almost as bloodless as that of the prisoner, but they were set to see
+the thing out.
+
+"Will you tell now?" Bonfils asked.
+
+Curly met him eye to eye. "No."
+
+"Come along then."
+
+One of the men caught his arm at the place where he had been wounded. The
+rustler flinched.
+
+"Careful, Buck. Don't you see you're hurting his bad arm?" Sweeney said
+sharply.
+
+"Sure. Take him right under the shoulder."
+
+"There's no call to be rough with him."
+
+"I didn't aim to hurt him," Buck defended himself.
+
+His grip was loose and easy now. Like the others he was making it up to
+his conscience for what he meant to do by doing it in the kindest way
+possible.
+
+Curly's senses had never been more alert. He noticed that Buck had on a
+red necktie that had got loose from his shirt and climbed up his neck. It
+had black polka dots and was badly frayed. Sweeney was chewing tobacco. He
+would have that chew in his mouth after they had finished what they were
+going to do.
+
+"Ain't he the gamest ever?" someone whispered.
+
+The rustler heard the words and they braced him as a drink of whiskey does
+a man who has been on a bad spree. His heart was chill with fear, but he
+had strung his will not to let him give way.
+
+"Better do it at the cottonwoods down by the creek," Buck told Bonfils in
+a low voice.
+
+The foreman of the Bar Double M moved his head in assent. "All right.
+Let's get it over quick as we can."
+
+A sound of flying feet came from outside. Someone smothered an oath of
+surprise. Kate Cullison stood in the doorway, all out of breath and
+panting.
+
+She took the situation in before she spoke, guessed exactly what they
+intended to do. Yet she flung her imperious question at them.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+They had not a word to say for themselves. In that room were some of the
+most callous hearts in the territory. Not one man in a million could have
+phased them, but this slender girl dumfounded them. Her gaze settled on
+Buck. His wandered for help to Sweeney, to Jake, to Kite Bonfils.
+
+"Now look-a-here, Miss Kate," Sweeney began to explain.
+
+But she swept his remonstrance aside.
+
+"No--No--No!" Her voice gathered strength with each repetition of the
+word. "I won't have it. What are you thinking about?"
+
+To the boy with the rope around his neck she was an angel from heaven as
+she stood there so slim and straight, her dark eyes shining like stars.
+Some of these men were old enough to be her father. Any of them could have
+crushed her with one hand. But if a thunderbolt had crashed in their midst
+it could not have disturbed the vigilantes more.
+
+"He's a rustler, Miss Kate; belongs to Soapy Stone's outfit," Sweeney
+answered the girl.
+
+"Can you prove it?"
+
+"We got him double cinched."
+
+"Then let the law put him in prison."
+
+"He shot yore paw," Buck reminded her.
+
+"Is that why you're doing it?"
+
+"Yes'm," and "That's why," they nodded.
+
+Like a flash she took advantage of their admission. "Then I've got more
+against him than you have, and I say turn him over to the law."
+
+"He'd get a good lawyer and wiggle out," Dutch objected.
+
+She whirled on the little puncher. "You know how that is, do you?"
+
+Somebody laughed. It was known that Dutch had once been tried for stealing
+a sheep and had been acquitted.
+
+Kite pushed forward, rough and overbearing. "Now see here. We know what
+we're doing and we know why we're doing it. This ain't any business for a
+girl to mix in. You go back to the house and nurse your father that this
+man shot."
+
+"So it isn't the kind of business for a girl," she answered
+scornfully. "It's work for a man, isn't it? No, not for one. For
+nine--eleven--thirteen--seventeen big brave strong men to hang one poor
+wounded boy."
+
+Again that amused laugh rippled out. It came from Maloney. He was leaning
+against the door jamb with his hands in his pockets. Nobody had noticed
+him before. He had come in after the girl. When Curly came to think it
+over later, if he had been given three guesses as to who had told Kate
+Cullison what was on the program he would have guessed Maloney each time.
+
+"Now that you've relieved your mind proper, Miss Cullison, I expect any of
+the boys will be glad to escort you back to the house," Kite suggested
+with an acid smile.
+
+"What have you got to do with this?" she flamed. "Our boys took him. They
+brought him here as their prisoner. Do you think we'll let you come over
+into this county and dictate everything we do?"
+
+"I've got a notion tucked away that you're trying to do the dictating your
+own self," the Bar Double M man contradicted.
+
+"I'm not. But I won't stand by while you get these boys to do murder. If
+they haven't sense enough to keep them from it I've got to stop it
+myself."
+
+Kite laughed sarcastically. "You hear your boss, boys."
+
+"You've had yore say now, Miss Kate. I reckon you better say good-night,"
+advised Buck.
+
+She handed Buck and his friends her compliments in a swift flow of
+feminine ferocity.
+
+Maloney pushed into the circle. "She's dead right, boys. There's nothing
+to this lynching game. He's only a kid."
+
+"He's not such a kid but what he can do murder," Dutch spat out.
+
+Kate read him the riot act so sharply that the little puncher had not
+another word to say. The tide of opinion was shifting. Those who had been
+worked up to the lynching by the arguments of Bonfils began to resent his
+activity. Flandrau was their prisoner, wasn't he? No use going off half
+cocked. Some of them were discovering that they were not half so anxious
+to hang him as they had supposed.
+
+The girl turned to her friends and neighbors. "I oughtn't to have talked
+to you that way, but you know how worried I am about Dad," she apologized
+with a catch in her breath. "I'm sure you didn't think or you would never
+have done anything to trouble me more just now. You know I didn't half
+mean it." She looked from one to another, her eyes shiny with tears. "I
+know that no braver or kinder men live than you. Why, you're my folks.
+I've been brought up among you. And so you've got to forgive me."
+
+Some said "Sure," others told her to forget it, and one grass widower drew
+a laugh by saying that her little spiel reminded him of happier days.
+
+For the first time a smile lit her face. The boy for whose life she was
+pleading thought it was like sunshine after a storm.
+
+"I'm so glad you've changed your minds. I knew you would when you thought
+it over," she told them chattily and confidentially.
+
+She was taking their assent for granted. Now she waited and gave them a
+chance to chorus their agreement. None of them spoke except Maloney. Most
+of them were with her in sympathy but none wanted to be first in giving
+way. Each wanted to save his face, so that the others could not later
+blame him for quitting first.
+
+She looked around from one to another, still cheerful and sure of her
+ground apparently. Two steps brought her directly in front of one. She
+caught him by the lapels of his coat and looked straight into his eyes.
+"You _have_ changed your mind, haven't you, Jake?"
+
+The big Missourian twisted his hat in embarrassment. "I reckon I have,
+Miss Kate. Whatever the other boys say," he got out at last.
+
+"Haven't you a mind of your own, Jake?"
+
+"Sure. Whatever's right suits me."
+
+"Well, you know what is right, don't you?"
+
+"I expect."
+
+"Then you won't hurt this man, our prisoner?"
+
+"I haven't a thing against him if you haven't."
+
+"Then you won't hurt him? You won't stand by and let the other boys do
+it?"
+
+"Now, Miss Kate--"
+
+She burst into sudden tears. "I thought you were my friend, but now I'm in
+trouble you--you think only of making it worse. I'm worried to death about
+Dad--and you--you make me stay here--away from him--and torment me."
+
+Jake gave in immediately and the rest followed like a flock of sheep. Two
+or three of the promises came hard, but she did not stop till each one
+individually had pledged himself. And all the time she was cajoling them,
+explaining how good it was of them to think of avenging her father, how in
+one way she did not blame them at all, though of course they had seen it
+would not do as soon as they gave the matter a second thought. Dad would
+be so pleased at them when he heard about it, and she wanted them to know
+how much she liked and admired them. It was quite a love feast.
+
+The young man she had saved could not keep his eyes from her. He would
+have liked to kneel down and kiss the edge of her dress and put his curly
+head in the dust before her. The ice in his heart had melted in the warmth
+of a great emotion. She was standing close to him talking to Buck when he
+spoke in a low voice.
+
+"I reckon I can't tell you--how much I'm obliged to you, Miss."
+
+She drew back quickly as if he had been a snake about to strike, her hand
+instinctively gathering her skirts so that they would not brush against
+him.
+
+"I don't want your thanks," she told him, and her voice was like the
+drench of an icy wave.
+
+But when she saw the hurt in his eyes she hesitated. Perhaps she guessed
+that he was human after all, for an impulse carried her forward to take
+the rope from his neck. While his heart beat twice her soft fingers
+touched his throat and grazed his cheek. Then she turned and was gone from
+the room.
+
+It was a long time before the bunk house quieted. Curly, faint with
+weariness, lay down and tried to sleep. His arm was paining a good deal
+and he felt feverish. The men of the Circle C and their guests sat down
+and argued the whole thing over. But after a time the doctor came in and
+had the patient carried to the house. He was put in a good clean bed and
+his arm dressed again.
+
+The doctor brought him good news. "Cullison is doing fine. He has dropped
+into a good sleep. He'd ought to make it all right."
+
+Curly thought about the girl who had fought for his life.
+
+"You'll not let him die, Doc," he begged.
+
+"He's too tough for that, Luck Cullison is."
+
+Presently Doctor Brown gave him a sleeping powder and left him. Soon after
+that Curly fell asleep and dreamed about a slim dark girl with fine
+longlashed eyes that could be both tender and ferocious.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE CULLISONS
+
+
+Curly was awakened by the sound of the cook beating the call to breakfast
+on a triangle. Buck was standing beside the bed.
+
+"How're they coming this glad mo'ning, son?" he inquired with a grin.
+
+"Fine and dandy," grinned back Flandrau.
+
+So he was, comparatively speaking. The pain in his arm had subsided. He
+had had a good sleep. And he was lying comfortably in a clean bed instead
+of hanging by the neck from the limb of one of the big cottonwoods on the
+edge of the creek.
+
+A memory smote him and instantly he was grave again.
+
+"How is Cullison?"
+
+"Good as the wheat, doc says. Mighty lucky for Mr. C. Flandrau that he is.
+Say, I'm to be yore valley and help you into them clothes. Git a wiggle on
+you."
+
+Buck escorted his prisoner over to the ranch mess house. The others had
+finished breakfast but Maloney was still eating. His mouth was full of hot
+cakes, but he nodded across at Curly in a casual friendly way.
+
+"How's the villain in the play this mo'ning?" he inquired.
+
+Twenty-one usually looks on the cheerful side of life. Curly had forgotten
+for the moment about what had happened to his friend Mac. He did not
+remember that he was in the shadow of a penitentiary sentence. The sun was
+shining out of a deep blue sky. The vigor of youth flowed through his
+veins. He was hungry and a good breakfast was before him. For the present
+these were enough.
+
+"Me, I'm feeling a heap better than I was last night," he admitted.
+
+"Came pretty near losing him out of the cast, didn't we?"
+
+"Might a-turned out that way if the stage manager had not remembered the
+right cue in time."
+
+Curly was looking straight into the eyes twinkling across the table at
+him. Maloney knew that the young fellow was thanking him for having saved
+his life. He nodded lightly, but his words still seemed to make a jest of
+the situation.
+
+"Enter the heroine. Spotlight. Sa-a-ved," he drawled.
+
+The heart of the prisoner went out to this man who was reaching a hand to
+him in his trouble. He had always known that Maloney was true and steady
+as a snubbing post, but he had not looked for any kindness from him.
+
+"Kite just got a telephone message from Saguache," the Bar Double M man
+went on easily. "Your friends that bought the rustled stock didn't get
+away with the goods. Seems they stumbled into a bunch of _rurales_
+unexpected and had to pull their freight sudden. The boys from the ranch
+happened along about then, claimed ownership and got possession."
+
+"If the men bought the stock why didn't they stop and explain?" asked
+Buck.
+
+"That game of buying stolen cattle is worn threadbare. The _rurales_ and
+the rangers have had their eye on those border flitters for quite some
+time. So they figured it was safer to dust."
+
+"Make their getaway?" Curly inquired as indifferently as he could. But in
+spite of himself a note of eagerness crept into his voice. For if the men
+had escaped that would be two less witnesses against him.
+
+"Yep."
+
+"Too bad. If they hadn't I could have proved by them I was not one of the
+men who sold them the stock," Flandrau replied.
+
+"Like hell you could," Buck snorted, then grinned at his prisoner in a
+shamefaced way: "You're a good one, son."
+
+"Luck has been breaking bad for me, but when things are explained----"
+
+"It sure will take a lot of explaining to keep you out of the pen. You'll
+have to be slicker than Dutch was."
+
+Jake stuck his head in at the door. "Buck, you're needed to help with them
+two-year-olds. The old man wants to have a talk with the rustler. Doc says
+he may. Maloney, will you take him up to the house? I'll arrange to have
+you relieved soon as I can."
+
+Maloney had once ridden for the Circle C and was friendly with all the men
+on the place. He nodded. "Sure."
+
+A Mexican woman let them into the chamber where the wounded man lay. It
+was a large sunny southeast room with French windows opening upon a long
+porch. Kate was bending over the bed rearranging the pillows, but she
+looked up quickly when the two men entered. Her eyes were still gentle
+with the love that had been shining down from them upon her father.
+
+Cullison spoke. "Sit down, Dick." And to his prisoner: "You too."
+
+Flandrau saw close at hand for the first time the man who had been
+Arizona's most famous fighting sheriff. Luck Cullison was well-built and
+of medium height, of a dark complexion, clean shaven, wiry and muscular.
+Already past fifty, he looked not a day more than forty. One glance was
+enough to tell Curly the kind of man this was. The power of him found
+expression in the gray steel-chilled eyes that bored into the young
+outlaw. A child could have told he was not one to trifle with.
+
+"You have begun early, young fellow," he said quietly.
+
+"Begun what?" Curly asked, having nothing better to say.
+
+"You know what. But never mind that. I don't ask you to convict yourself.
+I sent for you to tell you I don't blame you for this." He touched the
+wound in his side.
+
+"Different with your boys, sir."
+
+"So the boys are a little excited, are they?"
+
+"They were last night anyhow," Curly answered, with a glimmer of a smile.
+
+Cullison looked quickly at Maloney and then at his daughter.
+
+"I'll listen to what you've been hiding from me," he told them.
+
+"Oh, the boys had notions. Miss Kate argued with them and they saw things
+different," the Bar Double M rider explained.
+
+But Cullison would not let it go at that. He made them tell him the whole
+story. When Curly and Maloney had finished he buried his daughter's little
+hand in his big brown fist. His eyes were dancing with pride, but he gave
+her not a word of spoken praise.
+
+Kate, somewhat embarrassed, changed the subject briskly. "Now you're
+talking too much, Dad. Doctor Brown said you might see him for just a few
+minutes. But you're not to tire yourself, so I'll do the talking for
+you."
+
+He took his orders with the smiling submission of the man who knows his
+mistress.
+
+Kate spoke to Curly. "Father wants me to tell you that we don't blame you
+for shooting at him. We understand just how it was. Your friend got
+excited and shot as soon as he saw he was surrounded. We are both very
+sorry he was killed. Father could not stop the boys in time. Perhaps you
+remember that he tried to get you to surrender."
+
+The rustler nodded. "Yes, I heard him holler to me to put my gun down, but
+the others blazed away at me."
+
+"And so you naturally defended yourself. That's how we understand it.
+Father wants it made clear that he feels you could have done nothing
+else."
+
+"Much obliged. I've been sorry ever since I hit him, and not only on my
+own account."
+
+"Then none of us need to hold hard feelings." The girl looked at her
+father, who answered her appeal with a grim nod, and then she turned again
+to the young rustler a little timidly. "I wonder if you would mind if I
+asked you a question."
+
+"You've earned the right to ask as many as you like."
+
+"It's about---- We have been told you know the man they call Soapy Stone.
+Is that true?"
+
+Flandrau's eyes took on a stony look. It was as if something had sponged
+all the boyishness from his face. Still trying to get him to give away his
+partners in the rustling, were they? Well, he would show them he could
+take his medicine without squealing.
+
+"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't."
+
+"Oh, but you don't see what we mean. It isn't that we want to hurt you."
+She spoke in a quick eager voice of protest.
+
+"No, you just want me to squeal on my friends to save my own hide. Nothing
+doing, Miss Cullison."
+
+"No. You're wrong. Why are you so suspicious?"
+
+Curly laughed bitterly. "Your boys were asking that question about Soapy
+last night. They had a rope round my neck at the time. Nothing unfriendly
+in the matter, of course. Just a casual interest in my doings."
+
+Cullison was looking at him with the steel eyes that bored into him like a
+gimlet. Now he spoke sharply.
+
+"I've got an account running with Soapy Stone. Some day I'll settle it
+likely. But that ain't the point now. Do you know his friends--the bunch
+he trails with?"
+
+Wariness still seemed to crouch in the cool eyes of Flandrau.
+
+"And if I say yes, I'll bet your next question will be about the time and
+the place I last saw them."
+
+Kate picked up a photograph from the table and handed it to the prisoner.
+"We're not interested in his friends--except one of them. Did you ever see
+the boy that sat for that picture?"
+
+The print was a snapshot of a boy about nineteen, a good looking handsome
+fellow, a little sulky around the mouth but with a pair of straight honest
+eyes.
+
+Curly shook his head slowly. Yet he was vaguely reminded of someone he
+knew. Glancing up, he found instantly the clew to what had puzzled him.
+The young man in the picture was like Kate Cullison, like her father too
+for that matter.
+
+"He's your brother." The words were out before Flandrau could stop them.
+
+"Yes. You've never met him?"
+
+"No."
+
+Cullison had been watching the young man steadily. "Never saw him with
+Soapy Stone?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Never heard Stone speak of Sam Cullison?"
+
+"No. Soapy doesn't talk much about who his friends are."
+
+The ex-sheriff nodded. "I've met him."
+
+Of course he had met him. Curly knew the story of how in one drive he had
+made a gather of outlaws that had brought fame to him. Soapy had broken
+through the net, but the sheriff had followed him into the hills alone and
+run him to earth. What passed between the men nobody ever found out. Stone
+had repeatedly given it out that he could not be taken alive. But Cullison
+had brought him down to the valley bound and cowed. In due season the
+bandits had gone over the road to Yuma. Soapy and the others had sworn to
+get their revenge some day. Now they were back in the hills at their old
+tricks. Was it possible that Cullison's son was with them, caught in a
+trap during some drunken frolic just as Curly had been? In what way could
+Stone pay more fully the debt of hate he owed the former sheriff than by
+making his son a villain?
+
+The little doctor came briskly into the room.
+
+"Everybody out but the nurse. You've had company enough for one day,
+Luck," he announced cheerily.
+
+Kate followed Maloney and his prisoner to the porch.
+
+"About the letters of your friend that was shot," she said to Curly.
+"Doctor Brown was telling me what you said. I'll see they reach Miss
+Anderson. Do you know in what restaurant she works?"
+
+"No. Mac didn't tell me." The boy gulped to swallow an unexpected lump in
+his throat. "They was expecting to get married soon."
+
+"I--I'll write to her," Kate promised, her eyes misty.
+
+"I'd be obliged, Miss. Mac was a good boy. Anyone will tell you that. And
+he was awful fond of her. He talked about her that last night before the
+camp fire. I led him into this."
+
+"I'll tell her what you say."
+
+"Do. Tell her he felt bad about what he had done. Bad companions got him
+going wrong, but he sure would have settled down into a good man. That's
+straight goods, too. You write it strong."
+
+The girl's eyes were shiny with tears. "Yes," she answered softly.
+
+"I ain't any Harvard A. B. Writing letters ain't my long suit. I'm always
+disremembering whether a man had ought to say have went and have knew.
+Verbs are the beatingest things. But I know you'll fix it up right so as
+to let that little girl down easy."
+
+"I've changed my mind. I'll not write but go to see her."
+
+Curly could only look his thanks. Words seemed strangely inadequate. But
+Kate understood the boy's unspoken wish and nodded her head reassuringly
+as he left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+LAURA LONDON
+
+
+Kite Bonfils and Maloney took Curly back to Saguache and turned him over
+to Sheriff Bolt.
+
+"How about bail?" Maloney asked.
+
+The sheriff smiled. He was a long lean leather-faced man with friendly
+eyes from which humorous wrinkles radiated.
+
+"You honing to go bail for him, Dick?"
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Oh, say two thousand."
+
+"You're on."
+
+"What!"
+
+A cowpuncher with fifty dollars two weeks after pay day was a rarity. No
+wonder Bolt was surprised.
+
+"It's not my money. Luck Cullison is going bail for him," Maloney
+explained.
+
+"Luck Cullison!" Maloney's words had surprised the exclamation from Curly.
+Why should the owner of the Circle C of all men go bail for him?
+
+The sheriff commented dryly on the fact. "I thought this kid was the one
+that shot him."
+
+"That was just a happenstance. Curly shot to save his bacon. Luck don't
+hold any grudge."
+
+"So I should judge. Luck gave you his check, did he?"
+
+Bolt belonged to the political party opposed to Cullison. He had been
+backed by Cass Fendrick, a sheepman in feud with the cattle interests and
+in particular with the Circle C outfit. But he could not go back on his
+word. He and Maloney called together on the district attorney. An hour
+later Dick returned to the jail.
+
+"It's all right, kid," he told Curly. "You can shake off the dust of
+Saguache from your hoofs till court meets in September."
+
+To Flandrau the news seemed too good for the truth. Less than twenty-four
+hours ago he had been waiting for the end of the road with a rope around
+his neck. Now he was free to slip a saddle on his pony Keno and gallop off
+as soon as he pleased. How such a change had been brought about he did not
+yet understand.
+
+While he and Maloney were sitting opposite each other at the New Orleans
+Hash House waiting for a big steak with onions he asked questions.
+
+"I don't savvy Cullison's play. Whyfor is he digging up two thousand for
+me? How does he know I won't cut my stick for Mexico?"
+
+"How do I know it?"
+
+"Well, do you?"
+
+Maloney helped himself to the oyster crackers to pass the time. "Sure I
+do."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Search me. But I know you'll be here in September if you're alive and
+kicking."
+
+Flandrau persisted. "But Luck don't owe me anything, except one pill sent
+promiscuous to his address. What's he going down into his jeans for? Will
+you tell me that? And shove them crackers north by east. Got to fill up on
+something."
+
+"Ain't you as good a guesser as I am, Curly?"
+
+"Well then, here's my guess. Miss Kate made him."
+
+"I reckon maybe she influenced him. But why did she? You don't figure that
+curly topknot of yours is disturbing her dreams any, do you?"
+
+"Quit your joshing and tell me why."
+
+"I can't tell you for sure. But here's my guess. Don't cost you a cent if
+you ain't satisfied with it. First off, there was poor Mac shot by the
+Circle C boys. Course Mac was a horse thief, but then he was a kid too.
+That worried the little girl some. She got to thinking about brother Sam
+and how he might be in the same fix one of these days as you are now. He's
+on her mind a good deal, Sam is. Same way with the old man too, I reckon,
+though he don't say much. Well, she decided Soapy Stone had led you astray
+like he's doing with Sam. It got to worrying her for fear her brother
+might need a friend some time. So she handed over her worry to the old man
+and made him dig up for you."
+
+"That's about it. Tell me what you know of Sam. Is he as white as the rest
+of the family?"
+
+"Sam is all right, but he has got off wrong foot first. He and the old man
+got to kind of disagreeing, for the kid was a wild colt. Come by it
+honestly from the old man too. Well, they had a row one time when Sam got
+into trouble. Luck told him he never wanted to see him again. Sam lit out,
+and next folks knew he was trailing with Soapy's gang. Consequence is,
+Sam's hitting the toboggan for Tophet by all accounts."
+
+"Looks like some one ought to be able to pry him loose from that bunch,"
+Curly mused aloud.
+
+Maloney grinned across at him. "You try it, son. You've always led a good
+pious life. He sure would listen to you."
+
+He had said it as a jest, but Curly did not laugh. Why not? Why shouldn't
+he hunt up Sam and let him know how his folks were worrying about him?
+What was to hinder him from trying to wipe out some of the big debt he
+owed the Cullison family? He was footloose till September and out of a
+job. For he could not go back to the Map of Texas with his hat in his hand
+and a repentant whine on his lips. Why not take a hike into the hills and
+round up the boy? Of course Sam might not listen to him, but he could not
+tell that till he had tried. It had taken him scarcely a moment to make up
+his mind. The smile had not yet died out of Maloney's eyes when he spoke.
+
+"Damn if I don't take a crack at it."
+
+The man on the other side of the table stared at him.
+
+"Meaning that, are you?"
+
+"Yep."
+
+"Might be some lively if Soapy gets wise to your intentions," he said in a
+casual sort of way.
+
+"I don't aim to declare them out loud."
+
+That was all they said about it at the time. The rest of the evening was
+devoted to pleasure. After dinner they took in a moving picture show. The
+first film was a Western melodrama and it pleased them both immensely.
+
+"I'd be afraid to live in a country where guns popped like they do in
+moving picture land," Curly drawled. "Where is it anyhow? It ain't Texas,
+nor Oklahoma, nor Wyoming, nor Montana, nor any of the spots in between,
+because I've been in all of them."
+
+Maloney laughed. "Day before yesterday that's the way I'd a-talked my own
+self, but now I know better. What about your little stunt? Wasn't that
+warm enough for you? Didn't guns pop enough? Don't you talk about moving
+pictures!"
+
+After the picture show there were other things. But both of them trod the
+narrow path, Maloney because he was used to doing so and Flandrau because
+his experiences had sobered him.
+
+"I'm on the water wagon, Dick." He grinned ruefully at his friend.
+"Nothing like locking the stable after your bronc's been stole. I'd a-been
+a heap better off if I'd got on the wagon a week ago."
+
+Since their way was one for several miles Maloney and Curly took the road
+together next morning at daybreak. Their ponies ambled along side by side
+at the easy gait characteristic of the Southwest. Steadily they pushed
+into the brown baked desert. Little dust whirls in the shape of inverted
+cones raced across the sand wastes. The heat danced along the road in
+front of them in shimmering waves.
+
+Your plainsman is a taciturn individual. These two rode for an hour
+without exchanging a syllable. Then Curly was moved to talk.
+
+"Can you tell me how it is a man can get fond of so Godforsaken a country?
+Cactus and greasewood and mesquite, and for a change mesquite and
+greasewood and cactus! Nothing but sand washes and sand hills, except the
+naked mountains 'way off with their bones sticking through. But in the
+mo'ning like this, when the world's kind o' smiley with the sunshine, or
+after dark when things are sorter violet soft and the mountains lose their
+edges--say, would you swap it for any other country on earth?"
+
+Maloney nodded. He had felt that emotion a hundred times, though he had
+never put it into words.
+
+At Willow Wash their ways diverged. They parted with a casual "So-long;
+see you later." Curly was striking for the headwaters of Dead Cow Creek,
+where Soapy Stone had a horse ranch.
+
+He put up that night at the place of a nester in the foothills. His host
+looked at him curiously when he mentioned his destination, but he did not
+say anything. It was none of his business how many young fellows rode to
+Soapy's ranch.
+
+Flandrau took the trail again next morning after breakfast. About two
+o'clock he reached a little park in the hills, in the middle of which, by
+a dry creek, lay a ranch.
+
+The young man at first thought the place was deserted for the day, but
+when he called a girl appeared at the door. She smiled up at him with the
+lively interest any ranch girl may be expected to feel in a stranger who
+happens to be both young and good looking.
+
+She was a young person of soft curves and engaging dimples. Beneath the
+brown cheeks of Arizona was a pink that came and went very attractively.
+
+Curly took off his dusty gray hat. "_Buenos tardes; senorita!_ I'll bet
+I'm too late to draw any dinner."
+
+"_Buenos, senor_," she answered promptly. "I'll bet you'd lose your
+money."
+
+He swung from the saddle. "That's good hearing. When a fellow has had his
+knees clamped to the side of a bronch for seven hours he's sure ready for
+the dinner bell."
+
+"You can wash over there by the pump. There's a towel on the fence."
+
+She disappeared into the house, and Curly took care of his horse, washed,
+and sauntered back to the porch. He could smell potatoes frying and could
+hear the sizzling of ham and eggs.
+
+While he ate the girl flitted in and out, soft-footed and graceful,
+replenishing his plate from time to time.
+
+Presently he discovered that her father was away hunting strays on Sunk
+Creek, that the nearest neighbor was seven miles distant, and that Stone's
+ranch was ten miles farther up Dead Cow.
+
+"Ever meet a lad called Sam Cullison?" the guest asked carelessly.
+
+Curly was hardly prepared to see the color whip into her cheeks or to meet
+the quick stabbing look she fastened on him.
+
+"You're looking for him, are you?" she said.
+
+"Thought while I was here I'd look him up. I know his folks a little."
+
+"Do you know him?"
+
+He shook his head. She looked at him very steadily before she spoke.
+
+"You haven't met him yet but you want to. Is that it?"
+
+"That's it."
+
+"Will you have another egg?"
+
+Flandrau laughed. "No, thanks. Staying up at Stone's, is he?"
+
+"How should I know who's staying at Stone's?"
+
+It was quite plain she did not intend to tell anything that would hurt
+young Cullison.
+
+"Oh, well, it doesn't matter. I ain't lost him any to speak of," the young
+man drawled.
+
+"Are you expecting to stop in the hills long--or just visiting?"
+
+"Yes," Curly answered, with his most innocent blank wall look.
+
+"Yes which?"
+
+"Why, whichever you like, Miss London. What's worrying you? If you'll ask
+me plain out I'll know how to answer you."
+
+"So you know my name?"
+
+"Anything strange about that? The Bar 99 is the London brand. I saw your
+calves in the corral with their flanks still sore. Naturally I assume the
+young lady I meet here is Miss Laura London."
+
+She defended her suspicions. "Folks come up here with their mysterious
+questions. A person would think nobody lived on Dead Cow but outlaws and
+such, to hear some of you valley people tell it."
+
+"There's nothing mysterious about me and my questions. I'm just a
+lunkheaded cowpuncher out of a job. What did you think I was?"
+
+"What do you want with Sam Cullison? Are you friendly to him? Or aren't
+you?"
+
+"Ladies first. Are _you_ friendly to him? Or aren't you?"
+
+Curly smiled gaily across the table at her. A faint echo of his pleasantry
+began to dimple the corners of her mouth. It lit her eyes and spread from
+them till the prettiest face on the creek wrinkled with mirth. Both of
+them relaxed to peals of laughter, and neither of them quite knew the
+cause of their hilarity.
+
+"Oh, you!" she reproved when she had sufficiently recovered.
+
+"So you thought I was a detective or a deputy sheriff. That's certainly
+funny."
+
+"For all I know yet you may be one."
+
+"I never did see anyone with a disposition so dark-complected as yours. If
+you won't put them suspicions to sleep I'll have to table my cards." From
+his pocket he drew a copy of the Saguache Sentinel and showed her a marked
+story. "Maybe that will explain what I'm doing up on Dead Cow."
+
+This was what Laura London read:
+
+  From Mesa comes the news of another case of bold and flagrant
+  rustling. On Friday night a bunch of horses belonging to the Bar
+  Double M were rounded up and driven across the mountains to this
+  city. The stolen animals were sold here this morning, after which the
+  buyers set out at once for the border and the thieves made themselves
+  scarce. It is claimed that the rustlers were members of the notorious
+  Soapy Stone outfit. Two of the four were identified, it is alleged,
+  as William Cranston, generally known as "Bad Bill," and a young
+  vaquero called "Curly" Flandrau.
+
+  At the time of going to press posses are out after both the outlaws
+  and the stolen horses. Chances of overtaking both are considered
+  excellent. All likely points and outlying ranches have been notified
+  by telephone whenever possible.
+
+  In case the guilty parties are apprehended the _Sentinel_ hopes an
+  example will be made of them that will deter others of like stamp
+  from a practice that has of late been far too common. Lawlessness
+  seems to come in cycles. Just now the southern tier of counties
+  appears to be suffering from such a sporadic attack. Let all good men
+  combine to stamp it out. The time has passed when Arizona must stand
+  as a synonym for anarchy.
+
+She looked up at the young man breathlessly, her pretty lips parted, her
+dilated eyes taking him in solemnly. A question trembled on her lips.
+
+"Say it," advised Flandrau.
+
+The courage to ask what she was thinking came back in a wave. "Then I
+will. Are you a rustler?"
+
+"That's what the paper says, don't it?"
+
+"Are you this man mentioned here? What's his name--'Curly' Flandrau?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you're a rustler?"
+
+"What do you think? Am I more like a rustler than a deputy sheriff? Stands
+to reason I can't be both."
+
+Her eyes did not leave him. She brushed aside his foolery impatiently.
+"You don't even deny it."
+
+"I haven't yet. I expect I will later."
+
+"Why do men do such things?" she went on, letting the hands that held the
+paper drop into her lap helplessly. "You don't look bad. Anyone would
+think----"
+
+Her sentence tailed out and died away. She was still looking at Curly, but
+he could see that her mind had flown to someone else. He would have bet a
+month's pay that she was thinking of another lad who was wild but did not
+look bad.
+
+Flandrau rose and walked round the table to her. "Much obliged, Miss
+Laura. I'll shake hands on that with you. You've guessed it. Course, me
+being so 'notorious' I hate to admit it, but I ain't bad any more than he
+is."
+
+She gave him a quick shy look. He had made a center shot she was not
+expecting. But, womanlike, she did not admit it.
+
+"You mean this 'Bad Bill'?"
+
+"You know who I mean all right. His name is Sam Cullison. And you needn't
+to tell me where he is. I'll find him."
+
+"I know you don't mean any harm to him." But she said it as if she were
+pleading with him.
+
+"C'rect. I don't. Can you tell me how to get to Soapy Stone's horse ranch
+from here, Miss London?"
+
+She laughed. Her doubts were vanishing like mist before the sunshine.
+"Good guess. At least he was there the last I heard."
+
+"And I expect your information is pretty recent."
+
+That drew another little laugh accompanied by a blush.
+
+"Don't you think I have told you enough for one day, Mr. Flandrau?"
+
+"That 'Mr.' sounds too solemn. My friends call me 'Curly,'" he let her
+know.
+
+She remembered that he was a stranger and a rustler and she drew herself
+up stiffly. This pleasant young fellow was too familiar.
+
+"If you take this trail to the scrub pines above, then keep due north for
+about four miles, you'll strike the creek again. Just follow the trail
+along it to the horse ranch."
+
+With that she turned on her heel and walked into the kitchen.
+
+Curly had not meant to be "fresh." He was always ready for foolery with
+the girls, but he was not the sort to go too far. Now he blamed himself
+for having moved too fast. He had offended her sense of what was the
+proper thing.
+
+There was nothing for it but to saddle and take the road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+A BEAR TRAP
+
+
+The winding trail led up to the scrub pines and from there north into the
+hills. Curly had not traveled far when he heard the sound of a gun fired
+three times in quick succession. He stopped to listen. Presently there
+came a faint far call for help.
+
+Curly cantered around the shoulder of the hill and saw a man squatting on
+the ground. He was stooped forward in an awkward fashion with his back to
+Flandrau.
+
+"What's up?"
+
+At the question the man looked over his shoulder. Pain and helpless rage
+burned in the deep-set black eyes.
+
+"Nothing at all. Don't you see I'm just taking a nap?" he answered
+quietly.
+
+Curly recognized him now. The man was Soapy Stone. Behind the straight
+thin-lipped mouth a double row of strong white teeth were clamped tightly.
+Little beads of perspiration stood out all over his forehead. A glance
+showed the reason. One of his hands was caught in a bear trap fastened to
+a cottonwood. Its jaws held him so that he could not move.
+
+The young man swung from the back of Keno. He found the limb of a
+cottonwood about as thick as his forearm below the elbow. This he set
+close to the trap.
+
+"Soon as I get the lip open shove her in," he told Stone.
+
+The prisoner moistened his dry lips. It was plain that he was in great
+pain.
+
+The rescuer slipped the toes of his boots over the lower lip and caught
+the upper one with both hands. Slowly the mouth of the trap opened. Stone
+slipped in the wooden wedge and withdrew his crushed wrist. By great good
+fortune the steel had caught on the leather gauntlet he was wearing.
+Otherwise it must have mangled the arm to a pulp.
+
+Even now he was suffering a good deal.
+
+"You'll have to let a doc look at it," Curly suggested.
+
+Stone agreed. "Reckon I better strike for the Bar 99." He was furious at
+himself for having let such an accident happen. The veriest tenderfoot
+might have known better.
+
+His horse had disappeared, but Curly helped him to the back of Keno.
+Together they took the trail for the Bar 99. On the face of the wounded
+man gathered the moisture caused by intense pain. His jaw was clenched to
+keep back the groans.
+
+"Hard sledding, looks like," Curly sympathized.
+
+"Reckon I can stand the grief," Stone grunted.
+
+Nor did he speak again until they reached the ranch and Laura London
+looked at him from a frightened face.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Ran a sliver in my finger, Miss Laura. Too bad to trouble you," Soapy
+answered with a sneer on his thin lips.
+
+A rider for the Bar 99 had just ridden up and Laura sent him at once for
+the doctor. She led the way into the house and swiftly gathered bandages,
+a sponge, and a basin of water. Together she and Curly bathed and wrapped
+the wound. Stone did not weaken, though he was pretty gray about the
+lips.
+
+Laura was as gentle as she could be.
+
+"I know I'm hurting you," she said, her fingers trembling.
+
+"Not a bit of it. Great pleasure to have you for a nurse. I'm certainly in
+luck." Curly did not understand the bitterness in the sardonic face and he
+resented it.
+
+"If the doctor would only hurry," Laura murmured.
+
+"Yes, I know I'm a great trouble. Too bad Curly found me."
+
+She was busy with the knots of the outer wrapping and did not look up. "It
+is no trouble."
+
+"I'm too meddlesome. Serves me right for being inquisitive about your
+father's trap."
+
+"He'll be sorry you were caught."
+
+"Yes. He'll have to climb the hill and reset it."
+
+That something was wrong between them Curly could see. Soapy was very
+polite in spite of his bitterness, but his hard eyes watched her as a cat
+does a mouse. Moreover, the girl was afraid of him. He could tell that by
+the timid startled way she had of answering. Now why need she fear the
+man? It would be as much as his life was worth to lift a hand to hurt
+her.
+
+After the doctor had come and had attended to the crushed wrist Curly
+stepped out to the porch to find Laura. She was watering her roses and he
+went across the yard to her.
+
+"I'm right sorry for what I said, Miss Laura. Once in a while a fellow
+makes a mistake. If he's as big a chump as I am it's liable to happen a
+little oftener. But I'm not really one of those smart guys."
+
+Out came her gloved hand in the firmest of grips.
+
+"I know that now. You didn't think. And I made a mistake. I thought you
+were taking advantage because I had been friendly. I'm glad you spoke
+about it. We'll forget it."
+
+"Then maybe we'll be friends after all, but I sha'n't tell you what my
+friends call me," he answered gaily.
+
+She laughed out in a sudden bubbling of mirth. "Take care."
+
+"Oh, I will. I won't even spell it."
+
+He helped her with the watering. Presently she spoke, with a quick look
+toward the house.
+
+"There's something I want to say."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Something I want you to do for me."
+
+"I expect maybe I'll do it."
+
+She said nothing more for a minute, then the thing that was troubling her
+burst from the lips of the girl as a flame leaps out of a pent fire.
+
+"It's about that boy he has up there." She gave a hopeless little gesture
+toward the hills.
+
+"Sam Cullison?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What about him?"
+
+"He's bent on ruining him, always has been ever since he got a hold on
+him. I can't tell you how I know it, but I'm sure---- And now he's more
+set on it than ever."
+
+Curly thought he could guess why, but he wanted to make sure. "Because you
+are Sam's friend?"
+
+The pink flooded her cheeks. "Yes."
+
+"And because you won't be Soapy Stone's friend?"
+
+She flashed a startled look at him. "How do you know?"
+
+"Jealous, is he?"
+
+Her face, buried in the blooms she had been cutting, was of the same tint
+as the roses.
+
+"And so he wants to hurt you through him?" Flandrau added.
+
+"Yes. If he can drag Sam down and get him into trouble he'll pay off two
+grudges at once. And he will too. You'll see. He's wily as an Indian. For
+that matter there is Apache blood in him, folks say."
+
+"What about young Cullison? Can't he make a fight for himself?"
+
+"Oh, you know how boys are. Sam is completely under this man's influence."
+Her voice broke a little. "And I can't help him. I'm only a girl. He won't
+listen to me. Besides, Dad won't let me have anything to do with him
+because of the way he's acting. What Sam needs is a man friend, one just
+as strong and determined as Soapy but one who is good and the right sort
+of an influence."
+
+"Are you picking me for that responsible friend who is to be such a
+powerful influence for good?" Curly asked with a smile.
+
+"Yes--yes, I am." She looked up at him confidently.
+
+"Haven't you forgotten that little piece in the _Sentinel_? How does it
+go? An example had ought to be made of the desperadoes, and all the rest
+of it."
+
+"I don't care what it says. I've seen you."
+
+"So had the editor."
+
+She waved his jests aside. "Oh, well! You've done wrong. What of that?
+Can't I tell you are a man? And I don't care how much fun you make of me.
+You're good too."
+
+Curly met her on the ground of her own seriousness. "I'll tell you
+something, Miss Laura. Maybe you'll be glad to know that the reason I'm
+going to the horse ranch is to help Sam Cullison if I can."
+
+He went on to tell her the whole story of what the Cullisons had done for
+him. In all that he said there was not one word to suggest such a thing,
+but Laura London's mind jumped the gaps to a knowledge of the truth that
+Curly himself did not have. The young man was in love with Kate Cullison.
+She was sure of it. Also, she was his ally in the good cause of romance.
+
+When Curly walked back into the house, Stone laid down the paper he had
+been reading.
+
+"I see the _Sentinel_ hints that Mr. Curly Flandrau had better be
+lynched," he jeered.
+
+"The _Sentinel_ don't always hit the bull's-eye, Soapy," returned the
+young man evenly. "It thinks I belong to the Soapy Stone outfit, but we
+know I haven't that honor."
+
+"There's no such outfit--not in the sense he means," snapped the man on
+the lounge. "What are your plans? Where you going to lie low? Picked a
+spot yet?"
+
+"I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on the way," Curly assured him
+gaily.
+
+Soapy frowned at him under the heavy eyebrows that gave him so menacing an
+effect.
+
+"Better come back with me to the ranch till you look around."
+
+"Suits me right down to the ground if it does you."
+
+Someone came whistling into the house and opened the door of the room. He
+was a big lank fellow with a shotgun in his hands. "From Missouri" was
+stamped all over his awkward frame. He stood staring at his unexpected
+guests. His eyes, clashing with those of Stone, grew chill and hard.
+
+"So you're back here again, are you?" he asked, looking pretty black.
+
+Stone's lip smile mocked him. "I don't know how you guessed it, but I sure
+am here."
+
+"Didn't I tell you to keep away from the Bar 99--you and your whole cursed
+outfit?"
+
+"Seems to me you did mention something of that sort. But how was I to know
+whether you meant it unless I came back to see?"
+
+Laura came into the room and ranged herself beside her father. Her hand
+rested lightly on his forearm.
+
+"He got caught in one of your bear traps and this young man brought him
+here to wait for the doctor," she explained.
+
+"Hmp!"
+
+The Missourian stared without civility at his guest, turned on his heel,
+and with his daughter beside him marched out of the room. He could not
+decently tell Stone to leave while he was under the care of a doctor, but
+he did not intend to make him welcome. London was a blunt grizzled old
+fellow who said what he thought even about the notorious Soapy Stone.
+
+"We'll pull our freights right away, Curly," Stone announced as soon as
+his host had gone.
+
+The young man went to the stable and saddled Keno. While he was tightening
+the cinch a shadow fell across his shoulder. He did not need to look round
+to see whose it was.
+
+"I'm so glad you're going to the horse ranch. You will look out for Sam. I
+trust you. I don't know why, but I have the greatest confidence in you,"
+the owner of the shadow explained sweetly.
+
+Curly smiled blandly over his shoulder at her. "Fine! That's a good
+uplifting line of talk, Miss Laura. Now will you please explain why you're
+feeding me this particular bunch of taffy? What is it I'm to do for you?"
+
+She blushed and laughed at the same time. Her hand came from behind her
+back. In it was a letter.
+
+"But I do mean it, every word of it."
+
+"That's to be my pay for giving Master Sam his billy doo, is it?"
+
+"How did you guess? It is a letter to Sam."
+
+"How did I guess it? Shows I'm sure a wiz, don't it?"
+
+She saw her father coming and handed him the letter quickly.
+
+"Here. Take it." A spark of mischief lit her eye and the dimples came out
+on her cheeks. "Good-by, _Curly_."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+BAD MEDICINE
+
+
+The house at the horse ranch was a long, low L-shaped adobe structure. The
+first impression Curly received was that of negligence. In places the roof
+sagged. A door in the rear hung from one hinge. More than one broken pane
+of glass was stuffed with paper. The same evidence of shiftlessness could
+be seen on every hand. Fences had collapsed and been repaired flimsily.
+The woodwork of the well was rotting. The windmill wheezed and did its
+work languidly for lack of oil.
+
+Two men were seated on the porch playing seven up. One was Bad Bill, the
+other Blackwell. At sight of Curly they gave up their game.
+
+"Hello, kid! Where did you drop from?" Cranston asked.
+
+A muscle twitched in Flandrau's cheek. "They got Mac."
+
+"Got him! Where? At Saguache?"
+
+"Ran us down near the Circle C. Mac opened fire. They--killed him."
+
+"Shot him, or----?" Curly was left to guess the other half of the
+question.
+
+"Shot him, and took me prisoner."
+
+"They couldn't prove a thing, could they?"
+
+"They could prove I wounded Cullison. That was enough for them. They set
+out to hang me. Later they changed their minds."
+
+"How come you here? Did you escape?"
+
+"Nope. Friends dug up bail."
+
+Cranston did not ask what friends. He thought he knew. Alec Flandrau, an
+uncle of Curly, owned a half interest in the Map of Texas ranch. No doubt
+he had come to the aid of the young scapegoat.
+
+"I'll bet the old man was sore at having to ante," was Big Bill's
+comment.
+
+"Say, Soapy has been telling me that the Cullison kid is up here. I reckon
+we better not say anything about my mixup with his folks. I'm not looking
+for any trouble with him."
+
+"All right, Curly. That goes with me. How about you, Blackwell?"
+
+"Sure. What Sam don't know won't hurt him."
+
+Curly sat down on the porch and told an edited story of his adventures to
+them. Before he had finished a young fellow rode up and dismounted. He had
+a bag of quail with him which he handed over to the Mexican cook. After he
+had unsaddled and turned his pony into a corral he joined the card players
+on the porch.
+
+By unanimous consent the game was changed to poker. Young Cullison had the
+chair next to Flandrau. He had, so Curly thought, a strong family
+resemblance to his father and sister. "His eye jumps straight at you and
+asks its questions right off the reel," the newcomer thought. Still a boy
+in his ways, he might any day receive the jolt that would transform him
+into a man.
+
+The cook's "Come and get it" broke up the game for a time. They trooped to
+supper, where for half an hour they discussed without words fried quail,
+cornbread and coffee. Such conversation as there was held strictly to
+necessary lines and had to do with the transportation of edibles.
+
+Supper over, they smoked till the table was cleared. Then coats were
+removed and they sat down to the serious business of an all night session
+of draw.
+
+Curly was not playing to win money so much as to study the characters of
+those present. Bill he knew already fairly well as a tough nut to crack,
+game to the core, and staunch to his friends. Blackwell was a bad lot,
+treacherous, vindictive, slippery as an eel. Even his confederates did not
+trust him greatly. But it was Soapy Stone and young Cullison that
+interested Flandrau most. The former played like a master. He chatted
+carelessly, but he overlooked no points. Sam had the qualities that go to
+make a brilliant erratic player, but he lacked the steadiness and the
+finesse of the veteran.
+
+The last play before they broke up in the gray dawn was a flashlight on
+Stone's cool audacity. The limit had long since been taken off. Blackwell
+and Stone had been the winners of the night, and the rest had all lost
+more or less.
+
+Curly was dealing, Cranston opened the pot.
+
+"She's cracked," he announced.
+
+Blackwell, sitting next to him, had been waiting his turn with palpable
+eagerness. "Got to boost her, boys, to protect Bill," he explained as his
+raise went in.
+
+Sam, who had drunk more than was good for him, raised in his turn. "Kick
+her again, gentlemen. Me, I'm plumb tired of that little song of mine,
+'Good here'."
+
+Stone stayed. Curly did not come in.
+
+Cranston showed his openers and laid down his hand. Blackwell hesitated,
+then raised again.
+
+"Reckon I'm content to trail along," Cullison admitted, pushing in the
+necessary chips.
+
+Soapy rasped his stubby chin, looked sideways at Sam and then at
+Blackwell, and abruptly shaved in chips enough to call the raise.
+
+"Cards?" asked Curly.
+
+"I'll play these," Blackwell announced.
+
+Sam called for two and Stone one.
+
+Blackwell raised. Sam, grumbling, stayed.
+
+"Might as well see what you've got when I've gone this far," he gave as a
+reason for throwing good money after bad.
+
+Soapy took one glance at his new card and came in with a raise.
+
+Blackwell slammed his fist down on the table. "Just my rotten luck. You've
+filled."
+
+Stone smiled, then dropped his eyes to his cards. Suddenly he started.
+What had happened was plain. He had misread his hand.
+
+With a cheerful laugh Blackwell raised in his turn.
+
+"Lets me out," Sam said.
+
+For about a tenth of a second one could see triumph ride in Soapy's eyes.
+"Different here," he explained in a quiet businesslike way. All his chips
+were pushed forward to the center of the table.
+
+On Blackwell's face were mapped his thoughts. Curly saw his stodgy mind
+working on the problem, studying helplessly the poker eyes of his easy
+placid enemy. Was Soapy bluffing? Or had he baited a hook for him to
+swallow? The faintest glimmer of amusement drifted across the face of
+Stone. He might have been a general whose plans have worked out to suit
+him, waiting confidently for certain victory. The longer the convict
+looked at him the surer he was that he had been trapped.
+
+With an oath he laid down his hand. "You've got me beat. Mine is only a
+jack high straight."
+
+Stone put down his cards and reached for the pot.
+
+Curly laughed.
+
+Blackwell whirled on him.
+
+"What's so condemned funny?"
+
+"The things I notice."
+
+"Meaning?"
+
+"That I wouldn't have laid down my hand."
+
+"Betcher ten plunks he had me beat."
+
+"You're on." Curly turned to Soapy. "Object to us seeing your hand?"
+
+Stone was counting his chips. He smiled. "It ain't poker, but go ahead.
+Satisfy yourselves."
+
+"You turn the cards," Flandrau said.
+
+A king of diamonds showed first, then a ten-spot and a six-spot of the
+same suit.
+
+"A flush," exulted Blackwell.
+
+"I've got just one more ten left, but it says you're wrong."
+
+The words were not out of Curly's mouth before the other had taken the
+bet. Soapy looked at Flandrau with a new interest. Perhaps this boy was
+not such a youth as he had first seemed.
+
+The fourth card turned was a king of hearts, the last a six of spades.
+Stone had had two pair to go on and had not bettered at the draw.
+
+Blackwell tossed down two bills and went away furious.
+
+That night was like a good many that followed. Sam was at an
+impressionable age, inclined to be led by any man whom he admired. Curly
+knew that he could gain no influence over him by preaching. He had to live
+the rough-and-tumble life of these men who dwelt beyond the pale of the
+law, to excel them at the very things of which they boasted. But in one
+respect he held himself apart. While he was at the horse ranch he did not
+touch a drop of liquor.
+
+Laura London's letter was not delivered until the second day, for, though
+she had not told her messenger to give it to Sam when he was alone, Curly
+guessed this would be better. The two young men had ridden down to Big
+Tree spring to get quail for supper.
+
+"Letter for you from a young lady," Flandrau said, and handed it to
+Cullison.
+
+Sam did not read his note at once, but put it in his pocket carelessly, as
+if it had been an advertisement. They lay down in the bushes about twenty
+yards apart, close to the hole where the birds flew every evening to
+water. Hidden by the mesquite, Sam ran over his letter two or three times
+while he was waiting. It was such a message as any brave-hearted,
+impulsive girl might send to the man she loved when he seemed to her to
+walk in danger. Cullison loved her for the interest she took in him, even
+while he ridiculed her fears.
+
+Presently the quails came by hundreds on a bee-line for the water hole.
+They shot as many as they needed, but no more, for neither of them cared
+to kill for pleasure.
+
+As they rode back to the ranch, Curly mentioned that he had seen Sam's
+people a day or two before.
+
+Cullison asked no questions, but he listened intently while the other told
+the story of his first rustling and of how Miss Kate and her father had
+stood by him in his trouble. The dusk was settling over the hills by this
+time, so that they could not see each other's faces clearly.
+
+"If I had folks like you have, the salt of the earth, and they were
+worrying their hearts out about me, seems to me I'd quit helling around
+and go back to them," Curly concluded.
+
+"The old man sent you to tell me that, did he?" Hard and bitter came the
+voice of the young man out of the growing darkness.
+
+"No, he didn't. He doesn't know I'm here. But he and your sister have done
+more for me than I ever can pay. That's why I'm telling you this."
+
+Sam answered gruffly, as a man does when he is moved, "Much obliged,
+Curly, but I reckon I can look out for myself."
+
+"Just what I thought, and in September I have to go to the penitentiary.
+Now I have mortgaged it away, my liberty seems awful good to me."
+
+"You'll get off likely."
+
+"Not a chance. They've got me cinched. But with you it's different. You
+haven't fooled away your chance yet. There's nothing to this sort of life.
+The bunch up here is no good. Soapy don't mean right by you, or by any
+young fellow he trails with."
+
+"I'll not listen to anything against Soapy. He took me in when my own
+father turned against me."
+
+"To get back at your father for sending him up the road."
+
+"That's all right. He has been a good friend to me. I'm not going to throw
+him down."
+
+"Would it be throwing him down to go back to your people?"
+
+"Yes, it would. We've got plans. Soapy is relying on me. No matter what
+they are, but I'm not going to lie down on him. And I'm not going back to
+the old man. He told me he was through with me. Once is a-plenty. I'm not
+begging him to take me back, not on your life."
+
+[Illustration: HE WAS THE MADDEST MAN IN ARIZONA.]
+
+Curly dropped the matter. To urge him further would only make the boy more
+set in his decision. But as the days passed he kept one thing in his mind,
+not to miss any chance to win his friendship. They rode together a good
+deal, and Flandrau found that Sam liked to hear him talk about the Circle
+C and its affairs. But often he was discouraged, for he made no progress
+in weaning him from his loyalty to Stone. The latter was a hero to him,
+and gradually he was filling him with wrong ideas, encouraging him the
+while to drink a great deal. That the man had some definite purpose Curly
+was sure. What it was he meant to find out.
+
+Meanwhile he played his part of a wild young cowpuncher ready for any
+mischief, but beneath his obtuse good humor Flandrau covered a vigilant
+wariness. Soapy held all the good cards now, but if he stayed in the game
+some of them would come to him. Then he would show Mr. Stone whether he
+would have everything his own way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A REHEARSED QUARREL
+
+
+Because he could not persuade him to join in their drinking bouts, Stone
+nicknamed Curly the good bad man.
+
+"He's the prize tough in Arizona, only he's promised his ma not to look on
+the wine when it is red," Blackwell sneered.
+
+Flandrau smiled amiably, and retorted as best he could. It was his cue not
+to take offence unless it were necessary.
+
+It was perhaps on account of this good nature that Blackwell made a
+mistake. He picked on the young man to be the butt of his coarse
+pleasantries. Day after day he pointed his jeers at Curly, who continued
+to grin as if he did not care.
+
+When the worm turned, it happened that they were all sitting on the porch.
+Curly was sewing a broken stirrup leather, Blackwell had a quirt in his
+hand, and from time to time flicked it at the back of his victim. Twice
+the lash stung, not hard, but with pepper enough to hurt. Each time the
+young man asked him to stop.
+
+Blackwell snapped the quirt once too often. When he picked himself out of
+the dust five seconds later, he was the maddest man in Arizona. Like a
+bull he lowered his head and rushed. Curly sidestepped and lashed out hard
+with his left.
+
+The convict whirled, shook the hair out of his eyes, and charged again. It
+was a sledge-hammer bout, with no rules except to hit the other man often
+and hard. Twice Curly went down from chance blows, but each time he rolled
+away and got to his feet before his heavy foe could close with him.
+Blackwell had no science. His arms went like flails. Though by sheer
+strength he kept Flandrau backing, the latter hit cleaner and with more
+punishing effect.
+
+Curly watched his chance, dodged a wild swing, and threw himself forward
+hard with his shoulder against the chest of the convict. The man staggered
+back, tripped on the lowest step of the porch, and went down hard. The
+fall knocked the breath out of him.
+
+"Had enough?" demanded Curly.
+
+For answer Blackwell bit his thumb savagely.
+
+"Since you like it so well, have another taste." Curly, now thoroughly
+angry, sent a short-arm jolt to the mouth.
+
+The man underneath tried to throw him off, but Flandrau's fingers found
+his hairy throat and tight-
+
+[Transcriber's Note: the last line printed in the preceeding paragraph was
+"tight-" and that was at a page break. The continuation was not printed at
+the top of the following page. From the context, "tightened" is likely the
+completed word.]
+
+"You're killing me," the convict gasped.
+
+"Enough?"
+
+"Y-yes."
+
+Curly stepped back quickly, ready either for a knife or a gun-play.
+Blackwell got to his feet, and glared at him.
+
+"A man is like a watermelon; you can't most generally tell how good he is
+till you thump him," Sam chuckled.
+
+Cranston laughed. "Curly was not so ripe for picking as you figured, Lute.
+If you'd asked me, I could a-told you to put in yore spare time letting
+him alone. But a fellow has to buy his own experience."
+
+The victor offered his hand to Blackwell. "I had a little luck. We'll call
+it quits if you say so."
+
+"I stumbled over the step," the beaten man snarled.
+
+"Sure. I had all the luck."
+
+"Looked to me like you were making yore own luck, kid," Bad Bill
+differed.
+
+The paroled convict went into the house, swearing to get even. His face
+was livid with fury.
+
+"You wouldn't think a little thing like a whaling given fair and square
+would make a man hold a grudge. My system has absorbed se-ve-real without
+doing it any harm." Sam stooped to inspect a rapidly discoloring eye.
+"Say, Curly, he hung a peach of a lamp on you."
+
+Soapy made no comment in words, but he looked at Flandrau with a new
+respect. For the first time a doubt as to the wisdom of letting him stay
+at the ranch crossed his mind.
+
+His suspicion was justified. Curly had been living on the edge of a secret
+for weeks. Mystery was in the air. More than once he had turned a corner
+to find the other four whispering over something. The group had
+disintegrated at once with a casual indifference that did not deceive.
+Occasionally a man had ridden into the yard late at night for private talk
+with Stone, and Curly was morally certain that the man was the little
+cowpuncher Dutch of the Circle C.
+
+Through it all Curly wore a manner of open confidence. The furtive
+whisperings did not appear to arouse his curiosity, nor did he intercept
+any of the knowing looks that sometimes were exchanged. But all the time
+his brain was busy with questions. What were they up to? What was it they
+had planned?
+
+Stone and Blackwell rode away one morning. To Curly the word was given
+that they were going to Mesa. Four days later Soapy returned alone. Lute
+had found a job, he said.
+
+"That a paper sticking out of your pocket?" Flandrau asked.
+
+Soapy, still astride his horse, tossed the _Saguache Sentinel_ to him as
+he turned toward the stable.
+
+"Lie number one nailed," Curly said to himself. "How came he with a
+Saguache paper if he's been to Mesa?"
+
+Caught between the folds of the paper was a railroad time table. It was a
+schedule of the trains of the Texas, Arizona & Pacific for July. This was
+the twenty-ninth of June. Certainly Soapy had lost no time getting the new
+folder as soon as it was issued. Why? He might be going traveling. If so,
+what had that to do with the mystery agitating him and his friends?
+
+Curly turned the pages idly till a penciled marking caught his eye. Under
+Number 4's time was scrawled, just below Saguache, the word Tin Cup, and
+opposite it the figures 10:19. The express was due to leave Saguache at
+9:57 in the evening. From there it pushed up to the divide and slid down
+with air brakes set to Tin Cup three thousand feet lower. Soapy could not
+want to catch the train fifteen miles the other side of Saguache. But this
+note on the margin showed that he was interested in the time it reached
+the water tank. There must be a reason for it.
+
+Stone came back hurriedly from the corral, to find Curly absorbed in the
+Sentinel.
+
+"Seen anything of a railroad folder? I must a-dropped it."
+
+"It was stuck in the paper. I notice there's liable to be trouble between
+Fendrick and the cattle interests over his sheep," the reader answered
+casually.
+
+"Yep. Between Fendrick and Cullison, anyhow." Stone had reclaimed and
+pocketed his time table.
+
+Incidentally Flandrau's doubt had been converted into a lively suspicion.
+Presently he took a gun, and strolled off to shoot birds. What he really
+wanted was to be alone so that he could think the matter over. Coming home
+in the dusk, he saw Stone and young Cullison with their heads together
+down by the corral. Curious to see how long this earnest talk would last,
+Curly sat down on a rock, and watched them, himself unobserved. They
+appeared to be rehearsing some kind of a scene, of which Soapy was stage
+director.
+
+The man on the rock smiled grimly. "They're having a quarrel, looks
+like.... Now the kid's telling Soapy to go to Guinea, and Soapy's pawing
+around mad as a bull moose. It's all a play. They don't mean it. But why?
+I reckon this dress rehearsal ain't for the calves in the corral."
+
+Curly's mind was so full of guesses that his poker was not up to par that
+night. About daybreak he began to see his way into the maze. His first
+gleam of light was when a row started between Soapy and Cullison. Before
+anyone could say a word to stop them they were going through with that
+identical corral quarrel.
+
+Flandrau knew now they had been preparing it for his benefit. Cranston
+chipped in against Sam, and to keep up appearances Curly backed the boy.
+The quarrel grew furious. At last Sam drove his fist down on the table and
+said he was through with the outfit and was going back to Saguache.
+
+"_Yo tambien_," agreed Curly. "Not that I've got anything against the
+horse ranch. That ain't it. But I'm sure pining for to bust the bank at
+Bronson's.
+
+                 'Round and round the little ball goes,
+                 Where it will land nobody knows.'
+
+I've got forty plunks burning my jeans. I've got to separate myself from
+it or make my roll a thousand."
+
+The end of it was that both Sam and Curly went down to the corral and
+saddled their ponies. To the last the conspirators played up to their
+parts.
+
+"Damned good riddance," Stone called after them as they rode away.
+
+"When I find out I'm doing business with four-flushers, I quit them cold,"
+Sam called back angrily.
+
+Curly was amused. He wanted to tell his friend that they had pulled off
+their little play very well. But he did not.
+
+Still according to program, Sam sulked for the first few miles of their
+journey. But before they reached the Bar 99 he grew sunny again.
+
+"I'm going to have a talk with Laura while I'm so near," he explained.
+
+"Yes, that will be fine. From the way the old man talked when I was there,
+I expect he'll kill the fatted yearling for you."
+
+"I don't figure on including the old man in my call. What's the use of
+having a friend along if you don't use him? You drift in ... just happen
+along, you know. I'll stay in the scrub pines up here. If the old man is
+absent scenery, you wave your bandanna real industrious. If he is at home,
+give Laura the tip and she'll know where to find me."
+
+The owner of the ranch, as it happened, was cutting trail over by Agua
+Caliente.
+
+"Do you want to see him very bad, Mr. Flandrau?" asked Miss Laura
+demurely.
+
+"My friends call me Curly."
+
+"I meant to say Curly."
+
+"That's what I thought. No, I can't say I've lost Mr. London."
+
+"You inquired for him."
+
+"Hmp! That's different. When I used to come home from the swimming hole
+contrary to orders, I used to ask where Dad was, but I didn't want to see
+him."
+
+"I see. Did you just come down from the horse ranch?"
+
+"You've guessed it right."
+
+"Then I'm sorry I can't ask you to 'light. Dad's orders."
+
+"You've got lots of respect for his orders, haven't you?" he derided.
+
+"Yes, I have." She could not quite make up her mind whether to laugh or
+become indignant.
+
+"Then there's no use trying to tell you the news from the ranch."
+
+A smile dimpled her cheeks and bubbled in her eyes. "If you should tell
+me, I suppose I couldn't help hearing."
+
+"But I'm trying to figure out my duty. Maybe I oughtn't to tempt you."
+
+"While you're making up your mind, I'll run back into the kitchen and look
+at the pies in the oven."
+
+Curly swung from the saddle, and tossed the bridle rein to the ground. He
+followed her into the house. She was taking an apple pie from the oven,
+but took time to be saucy over her shoulder.
+
+"I'm not allowed to invite you into the house, sir."
+
+"Anything in the by-laws about me inviting myself in?"
+
+"No, that wasn't mentioned."
+
+"Anything in them about you meeting one of the lads from the horse ranch
+up on the hillside where it is neutral ground?"
+
+"Did Sam come with you?" she cried.
+
+"Who said anything about Sam?"
+
+Glints of excitement danced in the brown pupils of her eyes. "He's here.
+Oh, I know he's here."
+
+"What do I get for bringing good news?"
+
+"I didn't say it was good news."
+
+"Sho! Your big eyes are shouting it."
+
+"Was that the news from the horse ranch?"
+
+"That's part of it, but there is more. Sam and Curly are on their way to
+Saguache to spend the Fourth of July. Sam is going for another reason, but
+I'm not sure yet what it is."
+
+"You mean----?"
+
+"There's something doing I don't _savez_, some big deal on foot that's not
+on the level. Sam is in it up to the hocks. To throw me off the scent they
+fixed up a quarrel among them. Sam is supposed to be quitting Soapy's
+outfit for good. But I know better."
+
+White to the lips, she faced him bravely. "What sort of trouble is he
+leading Sam into?"
+
+"I've got a kind of a notion. But it won't bear talking about yet. Don't
+you worry, little girl. I'm going to stand by Sam. And don't tell him what
+I've told you, unless you want to spoil my chance of helping him."
+
+"I won't," she promised; then added, with quick eagerness: "Maybe I can
+help you. I'm going down to Saguache to visit on the fourth. I'm to be
+there two weeks."
+
+"I'll look you up. Trouble is that Sam is hell bent on ruining himself.
+Seems to think Soapy is his best friend. If we could show him different
+things might work out all right."
+
+While she climbed the hill to Sam, Curly watered his horse and smoked a
+cigarette. He was not hired to chaperone lovers. Therefore, it took him
+three-quarters of an hour to reach the scrub pine belt on the edge of the
+park.
+
+At once he saw that they had been having a quarrel. The girl's eyes were
+red, and she was still dabbing at them with her handkerchief when he came
+whistling along. Sam looked discouraged, but stubborn. Very plainly they
+had been disagreeing about his line of conduct.
+
+The two young men took the trail again. The moroseness of Sam was real and
+not affected this time. He had flared up because the girl could not let
+him alone about his friendship for Soapy Stone. In his heart the boy knew
+he was wrong, that he was moving fast in the wrong direction. But his
+pride would neither let him confess it or go back on his word to the men
+with whom he had been living.
+
+About noon the next day they reached Saguache. After they had eaten, Curly
+strolled off by himself to the depot.
+
+"Gimme a ticket to Tin Cup for this evening. I want to go by the express,"
+he told the agent.
+
+The man looked at him and grinned. "I saw you at Mesa in the bucking
+broncho doings last year, didn't I?"
+
+"Maybe you did and maybe you didn't. Why?"
+
+"You certainly stay with the bad bronchs to a fare-you-well. If I'd been
+judge you'd a-had first place, Mr. Flandrau."
+
+"Much obliged. And now you've identified me sufficient, how about that
+ticket?"
+
+"I was coming to that. Sure you can get a ticket. Good on any train.
+You're so darned active, maybe you could get off Number 4 when she is
+fogging along sixty miles per. But most folks couldn't, not with any
+comfort."
+
+"Meaning that the Flyer doesn't stop?"
+
+"Not at Tin Cup."
+
+"Have to take the afternoon train then?"
+
+"I reckon." He punched a ticket and shoved it through the window toward
+Curly. "Sixty-five cents, please."
+
+Flandrau paid for and pocketed the ticket he did not intend to use. He had
+found out what he wanted to know. The express did not stop at Tin Cup.
+Why, then, had Soapy marked the time of its arrival there? He was
+beginning to guess the reason. But he would have to do more than guess.
+
+Curly walked back to the business section from the depot. Already the town
+was gay with banners in preparation for the Fourth. On the program were
+broncho-busting, roping, Indian dances, races, and other frontier events.
+Already visitors were gathering for the festivities. Saguache, wide open
+for the occasion, was already brisk with an assorted population of many
+races. Mexicans, Chinese, Indians of various tribes brushed shoulders with
+miners, tourists and cattlemen. Inside the saloons faro, chuckaluck and
+roulette attracted each its devotees.
+
+Flandrau sauntered back to the hotel on the lookout for Sam. He was not
+there, but waiting for him was a boy with a note for the gentleman in
+Number 311.
+
+"Kid looking for you," the clerk called to the cowpuncher.
+
+"Are you Mr. Soapy Stone's friend, the one just down from Dead Cow creek?"
+asked the boy.
+
+Taken as a whole, the answer was open to debate. But Curly nodded and took
+the note.
+
+This was what he read:
+
+  Sam, come to Chalkeye's place soon as you get this. There we will
+  talk over the business.
+
+                                                       You Know Who.
+
+Though he did not know who, Curly thought he could give a pretty good
+guess both as to the author and the business that needed talking over.
+
+Through the open door of the hotel he saw Sam approaching. Quickly he
+sealed the flap of the envelope again, and held it pressed against his
+fingers while he waited.
+
+"A letter for you, Sam."
+
+Cullison tore open the envelope and read the note.
+
+"A friend of mine has come to town and wants to see me," he explained.
+
+To help out his bluff, Curly sprang the feeble-minded jest on him. "Blonde
+or brunette?"
+
+"I'm no lady's man," Sam protested, content to let the other follow a
+wrong scent.
+
+"Sure not. It never is a lady," Flandrau called after him as he departed.
+
+But Sam had no more than turned the corner before Curly was out of a side
+door and cutting through an alley toward Chalkeye's place. Reaching the
+back door of the saloon, he opened it a few inches and peered in. A minute
+later Sam opened the front screen and asked a question of the man in the
+apron. The bartender gave a jerk of his thumb. Sam walked toward the rear
+and turned in at the second private booth.
+
+Curly slipped forward quietly, and passed unobserved into the third stall.
+The wall which divided one room from another was of pine boarding and did
+not reach the ceiling. As the eavesdropper slid to a seat a phonograph in
+front began the Merry Widow waltz. Noiselessly Flandrau stood on the
+cushioned bench with his ear close to the top of the dividing wall. He
+could hear a murmur of voices but could not make out a word. The record on
+the instrument wheezed to silence, but immediately a rag-time tune
+followed.
+
+Presently the music died away. Flattened against the wall, his attention
+strained to the utmost, Curly began to catch words and phrases of the
+low-voiced speakers in the next compartment. His position was perilous in
+the extreme, but he would not leave now until he had found out what he
+wanted to know.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+EAVESDROPPING
+
+
+Out of the murmur of voices came one that Curly recognized as that of
+Soapy Stone, alias You Know Who.
+
+" ... then you'll take the 9:57, Sam...."
+
+After more whispering, "Yep, soon as you hear the first shot ... cover the
+passengers...."
+
+The listener lost what followed. Once he thought he heard the name Tin
+Cup, but he could not be sure. Presently another fragment drifted to him.
+"...make our getaway and cache the plunder...."
+
+The phonograph lifted up its voice again. This time it was "I love a
+lassie." Before the song was finished there came the sound of shuffling
+feet. One of the men in the next stall was leaving. Curly could not tell
+which one, nor did he dare look over the top of the partition to find out.
+He was playing safe. This adventure had caught him so unexpectedly that he
+had not found time to run back to his room for his six-gun. What would
+happen to him if he were caught listening was not a matter of doubt. Soapy
+would pump lead into him till he quit kicking, slap a saddle on a broncho,
+and light out for the Sonora line.
+
+As the phonograph finished unexpectedly--someone had evidently interrupted
+the record--the fragment of a sentence seemed to jump at Curly.
+
+" ... so the kid will get his in the row."
+
+It was the voice of Soapy, raised slightly to make itself heard above the
+music.
+
+"Take care," another voice replied, and Flandrau would have sworn that
+this belonged to Blackwell.
+
+Stone, who had been sitting on the other side of the table, moved close to
+the paroled convict. Between him and Curly there was only the thickness of
+a plank. The young man was afraid that the knocking of his heart could be
+heard.
+
+" ... don't like it," Blackwell was objecting sullenly.
+
+"Makes it safe for us. Besides"--Stone's voice grated like steel rasping
+steel, every word distinct though very low--"I swore to pay off Luck
+Cullison, and by God! I'm going to do it."
+
+"Someone will hear you if you ain't careful," the convict protested
+anxiously.
+
+"Don't be an old woman, Lute."
+
+" ... if you can do it safe. I owe Luck Cullison much as you do, but...."
+
+Again they fell to whispers. The next word that came to Curly clearly was
+his own name. But it was quite a minute before he gathered what they were
+saying.
+
+"Luck Cullison went his bail. I learnt it this mo'ning."
+
+"The son-of-a-gun. It's a cinch he's a spy. And me wanting you to let him
+in so's he could hold the sack instead of Sam."
+
+"Knew it wouldn't do, Lute. He's smart as a whip."
+
+"Reckon he knows anything?"
+
+"No. Can't."
+
+"If I thought he did----"
+
+"Keep your shirt on, Lute. He don't know a thing. And you get revenge on
+him all right. Sam will run with him and his friends while he's here.
+Consequence is, when they find the kid where we leave him they'll sure
+guess Curly for one of his pardners. Tell you his ticket is good as bought
+to Yuma. He's a horse thief. Why shouldn't he be a train robber, too.
+That's how a jury will argue."
+
+Blackwell grumbled something under his breath.
+
+Stone's voice grated harshly. "Me too. If he crosses my trail I'm liable
+to spoil his hide before court meets. No man alive can play me for a
+sucker and throw me down. Not Soapy Stone."
+
+Once more the voices ran together indistinctly. It was not till Blackwell
+suggested that they go get a drink that Curly understood anything more of
+what was being said.
+
+The outlaws passed out of the little room and strolled forward to the
+bar.
+
+Curly had heard more than he had expected to. Moreover, as he
+congratulated himself, his luck had stood up fine. Nobody in the sunburnt
+territory felt happier than he did that minute when he struck the good
+fresh air of the alley and knew that he had won through his hazardous
+adventure alive.
+
+The first thing that Flandrau did was to walk toward the outskirts of the
+town where he could think it out by himself. But in this little old planet
+events do not always occur as a man plans them. Before he reached Arroyo
+street Curly came plump against his old range-mate Slats Davis.
+
+The assistant foreman of the Hashknife nodded as he passed. He had helped
+Curly escape less than a month before, but he did not intend to stay
+friendly with a rustler.
+
+Flandrau caught him by the arm. "Hello, Slats. You're the man I want."
+
+"I'm pretty busy to-day," Davis answered stiffly.
+
+"Forget it. This is more important."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Come along and take a walk. I got something to tell you."
+
+"Can't you tell it here?"
+
+"I ain't going to, anyhow. Come along. I ain't got smallpox."
+
+Reluctantly Davis fell in beside him. "All right. Cut it short. I've got
+to see a man."
+
+"He'll have to wait." Curly could not help chuckling to himself at the
+evident embarrassment of the other. The impish impulse to "devil" him had
+its way. "You're a man of experience, Slats. Ever hold up a train?"
+
+The foreman showed plainly his disgust at this foolishness. "Haven't you
+sense enough ever to be serious, Curly? You're not a kid any more. In age
+you're a grown man. But how do you act? Talk like that don't do you any
+good. You're in trouble good and deep. Folks have got their eyes on you.
+Now is the time to show them you have quit all that hell raising you have
+been so busy at."
+
+"He sure is going good this mo'ning," Curly drawled confidentially to the
+scenery. "You would never guess, would you, that him and me had raised
+that crop in couples?"
+
+"That's all right, too. I'm no sky pilot. But I know when to quit.
+Seemingly you don't. I hear you've been up at Stone's horse ranch. I want
+to tell you that won't do you any good if it gets out."
+
+"Never was satisfied till I had rounded up all the trouble in sight.
+That's why I mentioned this train robbery. Some of my friends are aiming
+to hold up one shortly. If you'd like to get in I'll say a good word for
+you."
+
+Davis threw at him a look that drenched like ice water. "I expect you and
+me are traveling different trails these days, Curly. You don't mean it of
+course, but the point is I'm not going to joke with you along that line.
+Understand?"
+
+"Wrong guess, old hoss. I do mean it."
+
+Davis stopped in his tracks. "Then you've said too much to me. We'll part
+right here."
+
+"It takes two to agree to that, Slats."
+
+"That's where you're wrong. One is enough. We used to be good friends, but
+those days are past. None of us can keep a man from being a durned fool if
+he wants to be one. Nor a scoundrel. You've got the bit in your teeth and
+I reckon you'll go till there is a smash. But you better understand this.
+When you choose Soapy Stone's, crowd to run with that cuts out me and
+other decent folks. If they have sent you here to get me mixed up in their
+deviltry you go back and tell them there's nothing doing."
+
+"Won't have a thing to do with them. Is that it?"
+
+"Not till the call comes for citizens to get together and run them out of
+the country. Or to put them behind bars. Or to string them to a
+cottonwood. Then I'll be on the job."
+
+He stood there quiet and easy, the look in his steady eyes piercing
+Curly's ironic smile as a summer sun does mackerel clouds in a clear sky.
+Not many men would have had the courage to send that message to Soapy and
+his outfit. For Stone was not only a man killer, but a mean one at that.
+Since he had come back from the penitentiary he had been lying pretty low,
+but he brought down from the old days a record that chilled the blood.
+
+Curly sloughed his foolishness and came to the point.
+
+"You're on, Slats. I'm making that call to you now."
+
+The eyes of the two men fastened. Those of Flandrau had quit dancing and
+were steady as the sun in a blue sky. Surprise, doubt, wonder, relief
+filled in turn the face of the other man.
+
+"I'm listening, Curly."
+
+His friend told him the whole story from the beginning, just as he had
+been used to do in the old days. And Davis heard it without a word, taking
+the tale in quietly with a grim look settling, on his face.
+
+"So he aims to play traitor to young Cullison. The thing is damnable."
+
+"He means to shut Sam's mouth for good and all. That is what he has been
+playing for from the start, to get even with Luck. He and his gang will
+get away with the haul and they will leave Sam dead on the scene of the
+hold-up. There will be some shooting, and it will be figured the boy was
+hit by one of the train crew. Nothing could be easier."
+
+"If it worked out right."
+
+"Couldn't help working out right. That's why Soapy didn't let me in on the
+proposition. To get rid of one would be no great trouble, but two--well,
+that's different. Besides, I could tell he was not sure of me. Now he aims
+to put me on the stand and prove by me that Sam and he had a quarrel and
+parted company mighty sore at each other hardly a week before the hold-up.
+He'll have an alibi too to show he couldn't have been in it. You'll see."
+
+"You wouldn't think a white man could take a revenge like that on his
+enemy. It's an awful thing to do in cold blood."
+
+"Soapy is no white man. He's a wolf. See how slick his scheme is. At one
+flip of the cards he kills the kid and damns his reputation. He scores
+Cullison and he snuffs out Sam, who had had the luck to win the girl Soapy
+fancies. The boy gets his and the girl is shown she can't love another man
+than Stone."
+
+"Ever hear the story of French Dan?" asked Slats.
+
+"Not to know the right of it."
+
+"Soapy and Dan trained together in them days and went through a lot of
+meanness as side pardners. One day the Arivaca stage was held up by two
+men and the driver killed. In the scrap one of the men had his mask torn
+off. It was French Dan. Well, the outlaws had been too damned busy. Folks
+woke up and the hills were sprinkled with posses. They ran the fellows
+down and hunted them from place to place. Two--three times they almost
+nailed them. Shots were exchanged. A horse of one of the fugitives was
+killed and they could not get another. Finally one dark night the outlaws
+were surrounded. The posse lay down in the zacaton and waited for morning.
+In the night one of them heard a faint sound like the popping of a cork.
+When mo'ning broke the hunters crept forward through the thick grass.
+Guess what they found."
+
+Curly's answer was prompt. "Gimme a harder one. There were two men and
+only one horse. The only chance was to slip through the line before day
+arrived. My guess is that they found French Dan with a little round hole
+in his skull--_and that the bullet making it had gone in from behind_. My
+guess also is that the posse didn't find the horse and the other man, just
+a trail through the zacaton back into the hills."
+
+"Go to the head of the class. There was one man too many in that thicket
+for the horse. French Dan's pardner was afraid they might not agree about
+who was to have the bronch for a swift getaway. So he took no chances.
+There's only one man alive to-day can swear that Soapy was the man with
+French Dan lying in the zacaton. And he'll never tell, because he pumped
+the bullet into his friend. But one thing is sure. Soapy disappeared from
+Arizona for nearly two years. You can pick any reason you like for his
+going. That is the one I choose."
+
+"Same here. And the man that would shoot one partner in the back would
+shoot another if he had good reasons. By his way of it Soapy has reasons
+a-plenty."
+
+"I'm satisfied that is his game. Question is how to block it. Will you go
+to the sheriff?"
+
+"No. Bolt would fall down on it. First off, he would not believe the story
+because I'm a rustler myself. Soapy and his friends voted for Bolt. He
+would go to them, listen to their story, prove part of it by me, and turn
+them loose for lack of evidence. Sam would go back to Dead Cow with them,
+and Stone would weave another web for the kid."
+
+"You've got it about right," Slats admitted. "How about warning Sam?"
+
+"No use. He would go straight to Soapy with it, and his dear friend would
+persuade him it was just a yarn cooked up to get him to throw down the
+only genuwine straight-up pal he ever had."
+
+"Cullison then?"
+
+"You're getting warm. I've had that notion myself. The point is, would he
+be willing to wait and let Soapy play his hand out till we called?"
+
+"You would have to guarantee his boy would be safe meanwhile."
+
+"Two of us would have to watch him day and night without Sam knowing it."
+
+"Count me in."
+
+"This is where we hit heavy traveling, Slats. For we don't know when the
+thing is going to be pulled off."
+
+"We'll have to be ready. That's all."
+
+"Happen to know whether Dick Maloney is here for the show?"
+
+"Saw him this mo'ning. Luck is here too, him and his girl."
+
+"Good. We've got to have a talk with them, and it has to be on the q.t.
+You go back to town and find Dick. Tell him to meet us at the Del Mar,
+where Luck always puts up. Find out the number of Cullison's room and make
+an appointment. I'll be on El Molino street all mo'ning off and on. When
+you find out pass me without stopping, but tell me when we are to meet and
+just where."
+
+Curly gave Slats a quarter of an hour before sauntering back to town. As
+he was passing the Silver Dollar saloon a voice called him. Stone and
+Blackwell were standing in the door. Flandrau stopped.
+
+Soapy's deep-set eyes blazed at him. "You didn't tell me it was Luck
+Cullison went bail for you, Curly."
+
+"You didn't ask me."
+
+"So you and him are thick, are you?"
+
+"I've met him once, if that's being thick. That time I shot him up."
+
+"Funny. And then he went bail for you."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Now I wonder why."
+
+The eyes of the man had narrowed to red slits. His head had shot forward
+on his shoulders as that of a snake does. Curly would have given a good
+deal just then for the revolver lying on the bed of his room. For it was
+plain trouble was in sight. The desperado had been drinking heavily and
+was ready to do murder.
+
+"That's easy to explain, Soapy. I shot him because I was driven to it.
+He's too much of a man to bear a grudge for what I couldn't help."
+
+"That's it, is it? Does that explain why he dug up good money to turn
+loose a horse thief?"
+
+"If I told you why, you would not understand."
+
+"Let's hear you try."
+
+"He did it because I was young, just as Sam is; and because he figured
+that some day Sam might need a friend, too."
+
+"You're a liar. He did it because you promised to sneak up to my ranch and
+spy on us. That's why he did it."
+
+With the last word his gun jumped into sight. That he was lashing himself
+into a fury was plain. Presently his rage would end in a tragedy.
+
+Given a chance, Curly would have run for it. But Soapy was a dead shot. Of
+a sudden the anger in the boy boiled up over the fear. In two jumps he
+covered the ground and jammed his face close to the cold rim of the blue
+steel barrel.
+
+"I'm not heeled. Shoot and be damned, you coward. And with my last breath
+I'll tell you that you're a liar."
+
+Flandrau had called his bluff, though he had not meant it as one. A dozen
+men were in sight and were watching. They had heard the young man tell
+Stone he was not armed. Public opinion would hold him to account if he
+shot Curly down in cold blood. He hung there undecided, breathing fast,
+his jaw clamped tightly.
+
+The lad hammered home his defiance. "Drop that gun, you four-flusher, and
+I'll whale you till you can't stand. _Sabe?_ Call yourself a bad man, do
+you? Time I'm through with you there will be one tame wolf crawling back
+to Dead Cow with its tail between its legs."
+
+The taunt diverted his mind, just as Curly had hoped it would. He thrust
+the revolver back into the holster and reached for his foe.
+
+Then everybody, hitherto paralyzed by the sight of a deadly weapon, woke
+up and took a hand. They dragged the two men apart. Curly was thrust into
+a barber shop on the other side of the street and Stone was dragged back
+into the Silver Dollar.
+
+In two minutes Flandrau had made himself famous, for he was a marked man.
+The last words of the straggling desperado had been that he would shoot on
+sight. Now half a dozen talked at once. Some advised Curly one thing, some
+another. He must get out of town. He must apologize at once to Stone. He
+must send a friend and explain.
+
+The young man laughed grimly. "Explain nothing. I've done all the
+explaining I'm going to. And I'll not leave town either. If Soapy wants me
+he'll sure find me."
+
+"Don't be foolish, kid. He has got four notches on that gun of his. And
+he's a dead shot."
+
+The tongues of those about him galloped. Soapy was one of these
+Billy-the-Kid killers, the only one left from the old days. He could whang
+away at a quarter with that sawed-off .45 of his and hit it every crack.
+The sooner Curly understood that no boy would have a chance with him the
+better it would be. So the talk ran.
+
+"He's got you bluffed to a fare-you-well. You're tame enough to eat out of
+his hand. Didn't Luck Cullison go into the hills and bring him down all
+alone?" Flandrau demanded.
+
+"Luck's another wonder. There ain't another man in Arizona could have done
+it. Leastways no other but Bucky O'Connor."
+
+But Curly was excited, pleased with himself because he had stood up to the
+bogey man of the Southwest, and too full of strength to be afraid.
+
+Maloney came into the barber shop and grinned at him.
+
+"Hello, son!"
+
+"Hello, Dick!"
+
+"I hear you and Soapy are figuring on setting off some fireworks this
+Fourth."
+
+It did Curly good to see him standing there so easy and deliberate among
+the excitable town people.
+
+"Soapy is doing the talking."
+
+"I heard him; happened to be at the Silver Dollar when they dragged him
+in."
+
+Maloney's eyebrows moved the least bit. His friend understood. Together
+they passed out of the back door of the shop into an alley. The others
+stood back and let them go. But their eyes did not leave Curly so long as
+he was in sight. Until this thing was settled one way or the other the
+young rustler would be one of the most important men in town. Citizens
+would defer to him that had never noticed him before. He carried with him
+a touch of the solemnity that is allowed only the dead or the dying.
+
+Back to the hotel the two ran. When Curly buckled on his revolver and felt
+it resting comfortably against his thigh he felt a good deal better.
+
+"I've seen Slats Davis," Maloney explained. "He has gone to find Luck, who
+is now at the Del Mar. At least he was an hour ago."
+
+"Had any talk with Slats?"
+
+"No. He said you'd do the talking."
+
+"I'm to wait for him on El Molino street to learn where I'm to meet
+Cullison."
+
+"That won't do. You'd make too tempting a target. I'll meet him instead."
+
+That suited Curly. He was not hunting trouble just now, even though he
+would not run away from it. For he had serious business on hand that could
+not take care of itself if Soapy should kill him.
+
+Nearly an hour later Maloney appeared again.
+
+"We're to go right over to the Del Mar. Second floor, room 217. You are to
+go down El Molino to Main, then follow it to the hotel, keeping on the
+right hand side of the street. Slats will happen along the other side of
+the street and will keep abreast of you. Luck will walk with me behind
+you. Unless I yell your name don't pay any attention to what is behind
+you. Soon as we reach the hotel Slats will cross the road and go in by the
+side door. You will follow him a few steps behind, and we'll bring up the
+rear casually as if we hadn't a thing to do with you."
+
+"You're taking a heap of pains, seems to me."
+
+"Want to keep you from getting spoilt till September term of court opens.
+Didn't I promise Bolt you would show up?"
+
+They moved down the street as arranged. Every time a door opened in front
+of him, every time a man came out of a store or a saloon, Curly was ready
+for that lightning lift of the arm followed by a puff of smoke. The news
+of his coming passed ahead of him, so that windows were crowded with
+spectators. These were doomed to disappointment. Nothing happened. The
+procession left behind it the Silver Dollar, the Last Chance, Chalkeye's
+Place and Pete's Palace.
+
+Reaching the hotel first, Davis disappeared according to program into the
+side door. Carly followed, walked directly up the stairs, along the
+corridor, and passed without knocking into Room 217.
+
+A young woman was sitting there engaged with some fancy work. Slender and
+straight, Kate Cullison rose and gave Curly her hand. For about two
+heartbeats her fingers lay cuddled in his big fist. A strange stifling
+emotion took his breath.
+
+Then her arm fell to her side and she was speaking to him.
+
+"Dad has gone to meet you. We've heard about what happened this morning."
+
+"You mean what didn't happen. Beats all how far a little excitement goes
+in this town," he answered, embarrassed.
+
+Her father and Maloney entered the room. Cullison wrung his hand.
+
+"Glad to see you, boy. You're in luck that convict did not shoot you up
+while he had the chance. Saguache is sure buzzing this mo'ning with the
+way you stood up to him. That little play of yours will help with the jury
+in September."
+
+Curly thanked him for going bail.
+
+Luck fixed his steel-spoked eyes on him. "By what Dick tells me you've
+more than squared that account."
+
+Kate explained in her soft voice. "Dick told us why you went up to Dead
+Cow creek."
+
+"Sho! I hadn't a thing to do, so I just ran up there. Sam's in town with
+me. We're rooming together."
+
+"Oh, take me to him," Kate cried.
+
+"Not just now, honey," her father said gently. "This young man came here
+to tell us something. Or so I gathered from his friend Davis."
+
+Flandrau told his story, or all of it that would bear telling before a
+girl. He glossed over his account of the dissipation at the horse ranch,
+but he told all he knew of Laura London and her interest in Sam. But it
+was when he related what he had heard at Chalkeye's place that the
+interest grew most tense. While he was going over the plot to destroy
+young Cullison there was no sound in the room but his voice. Luck's eyes
+burned like live coals. The color faded from the face of his daughter so
+that her lips were gray as cigar ash. Yet she sat up straight and did not
+flinch.
+
+When he had finished the owner of the Circle C caught his hand. "You've
+done fine, boy. Not a man in Arizona could have done it better."
+
+Kate said nothing in words but her dark longlashed eyes rained thanks upon
+him.
+
+They talked the situation over from all angles. Always it simmered down to
+one result. It was Soapy's first play. Until he moved they could not. They
+had no legal evidence except the word of Curly. Nor did they know on what
+night he had planned to pull off the hold-up. If they were to make a
+complete gather of the outfit, with evidence enough to land them in the
+penitentiary, it could only be after the hold-up.
+
+Meanwhile there was nothing to do but wait and take what precautions they
+could against being caught by surprise. One of these was to see that Sam
+was never for an instant left unguarded either day or night. Another was
+to ride to Tin Cup and look the ground over carefully. For the present
+they could do no more than watch events, attracting no attention by any
+whispering together in public.
+
+Before the conference broke up Kate came in with her protest.
+
+"That's all very well, but what about Mr. Flandrau? He can't stay in
+Saguache with that man threatening to kill him on sight."
+
+"Don't worry about me, Miss Kate;" and Curly looked at her and blushed.
+
+Her father smiled grimly. "No, I wouldn't, Kate. He isn't going to be
+troubled by that wolf just now."
+
+"Doesn't stand to reason he'd spoil all his plans just to bump me off."
+
+"But he might. He forgot all about his plans this morning. How do we know
+he mightn't a second time?"
+
+"Don't you worry, honey. I've got a card up my sleeve," Luck promised.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"STICK TO YOUR SADDLE"
+
+
+The old Arizona fashion of settling a difference of opinion with the
+six-gun had long fallen into disuse, but Saguache was still close enough
+to the stark primeval emotions to wait with a keen interest for the crack
+of the revolver that would put a period to the quarrel between Soapy Stone
+and young Flandrau. It was known that Curly had refused to leave town,
+just as it was known that Stone and that other prison bird Blackwell were
+hanging about the Last Chance and Chalkeye's Place drinking together
+morosely. It was observed too that whenever Curly appeared in public he
+was attended by friends. Sometimes it would be Maloney and Davis,
+sometimes his uncle Alec Flandrau, occasionally a couple of the Map of
+Texas vaqueros.
+
+It chanced that "Old Man" Flandrau, drifting into Chalkeye's Place, found
+in the assembled group the man he sought. Billie Mackenzie, grizzled owner
+of the Fiddleback ranch, was with him, and it was in the preliminary pause
+before drinking that Alec made his official announcement.
+
+"No, Mac, I ain't worrying about that any. Curly is going to get a square
+deal. We're all agreed on that. If there's any shooting from cover
+there'll be a lynching _pronto_. That goes."
+
+Flandrau, Senior, did not glance at the sullen face of Lute Blackwell
+hovering in the background but he knew perfectly well that inside of an
+hour word would reach Soapy Stone that only an even break with Curly would
+be allowed.
+
+The day passed without a meeting between the two. Curly grew nervous at
+the delay.
+
+"I'm as restless as a toad on a hot skillet," he confessed to Davis. "This
+thing of never knowing what minute Soapy will send me his leaden
+compliments ain't any picnic. Wisht it was over."
+
+"He's drinking himself blind. Every hour is to the good for you."
+
+Curly shrugged. "Drunk or sober Soapy always shoots straight."
+
+Another day passed. The festivities had begun and Curly had to be much in
+evidence before the public. His friends had attempted to dissuade him from
+riding in the bucking broncho contest, but he had refused to let his name
+be scratched from the list of contestants.
+
+A thousand pair of eyes in the grandstand watched the boy as he lounged
+against the corral fence laughing and talking with his friends. A dozen
+people were on the lookout for the approach of Stone. Fifty others had
+warned the young man to be careful. For Saguache was with him almost to a
+man.
+
+Dick Maloney heard his voice called as he was passing the grandstand, A
+minute later he was in the Cullison box shaking hands with Kate.
+
+"Is--is there anything new?" she asked in a low voice.
+
+Her friend shook his head. "No. Soapy may drift out here any minute now."
+
+"Will he----?" Her eyes finished the question.
+
+He shook his head. "Don't know. That's the mischief of it. If they should
+meet just after Curly finishes riding the boy won't have a chance. His
+nerves won't be steady enough."
+
+"Dad is doing something. I don't know what it is. He had a meeting with a
+lot of cattlemen about it---- I don't see how that boy _can_ sit there on
+the fence laughing when any minute----"
+
+"Curly's game as they make 'em. He's a prince, too. I like that boy better
+every day."
+
+"He doesn't seem to me so----wild. But they say he's awfully reckless."
+She said it with a visible reluctance, as if she wanted him to deny the
+charge.
+
+"Sho! Curly needs explaining some. That's all. Give a dog a bad name and
+hang him. That saying is as straight as the trail of a thirsty cow. The
+kid got off wrong foot first, and before he'd hardly took to shaving
+respectable folks were hunting the dictionary to find bad names to throw
+at him. He was a reprobate and no account. Citizens that differed on
+everything else was unanimous about that. Mothers kinder herded their
+young folks in a corral when he slung his smile their way."
+
+"But why?" she persisted. "What had he done?"
+
+"Gambled his wages, and drank some, and, beat up Pete Schiff, and shot the
+lights out of the Legal Tender saloon. That's about all at first."
+
+"Wasn't it enough?"
+
+"Most folks thought so. So when Curly bumped into them keep-off-the-grass
+signs parents put up for him he had to prove they were justified. That's
+the way a kid acts. Half the bad men are only coltish cowpunchers gone
+wrong through rotten whiskey and luck breaking bad for them."
+
+"Is Soapy that kind?" she asked, but not because she did not know the
+answer.
+
+"He's the other kind, bad at the heart. But Curly was just a kid crazy
+with the heat when he made that fool play of rustling horses."
+
+A lad made his way to them with a note. Kate read it and turned to Dick.
+Her eyes were shining happily.
+
+"I've got news from Dad. It's all right. Soapy Stone has left town."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"A dozen of the big cattlemen signed a note and sent it to Stone. They
+told him that if he touched Curly he would never leave town alive. He was
+given word to get out of town at once."
+
+Maloney slapped his hand joyously on his thigh. "Fine! Might a-known Luck
+would find a way out. I tell you this thing has been worying me. Some of
+us wanted to take it off Curly's hands, but he wouldn't have it. He's a
+man from the ground up, Curly is. But your father found a way to butt in
+all right. Soapy couldn't stand out against the big ranchmen when they got
+together and meant business. He had to pull his freight."
+
+"Let me tell him the good news, Dick," she said, eagerly.
+
+"Sure. I'll send him right up."
+
+Bronzed almost to a coffee brown, with the lean lithe grace of youth
+garbed in the picturesque regalia of the _vaquero_, Flandrau was a taking
+enough picture to hold the roving eye of any girl. A good many centered
+upon him now, as he sauntered forward toward the Cullison box cool and
+easy and debonair. More than one pulse quickened at sight of him, for his
+gallantry, his peril and his boyishness combined to enwrap him in the
+atmosphere of romance. Few of the observers knew what a wary vigilance lay
+behind that careless manner.
+
+Kate gathered her skirts to make room for him beside her.
+
+"Have you heard? He has left town."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Soapy Stone. The cattlemen served notice on him to go. So he left."
+
+A wave of relief swept over the young man. "That's your father's fine
+work."
+
+"Isn't it good?" Her eyes were shining with gladness.
+
+"I'm plumb satisfied," he admitted. "I'm not hankering to shoot out my
+little difference with Soapy. He's too handy with a six-gun."
+
+"I'm so happy I don't know what to do."
+
+"I suppose now the hold-up will be put off. Did Sam and Blackwell go with
+him?"
+
+"No. He went alone."
+
+"Have you seen Sam yet?"
+
+"No, but I've seen Laura London. She's all the nice things you've said
+about her."
+
+Curly grew enthusiastic, "Ain't she the dandiest girl ever? She's the
+right kind of a friend. And pretty--with that short crinkly hair the color
+of ripe nuts! You would not think one person could own so many dimples as
+she does when she laughs. It's just like as if she had absorbed sunshine
+and was warming you up with her smile."
+
+"I see she has made a friend of you."
+
+"You bet she has."
+
+Miss Cullison shot a swift slant glance at him. "If you'll come back this
+afternoon you can meet her. I'm going to have all those dimples and all
+that sunshine here in the box with me."
+
+"Maybe that will draw Sam to you."
+
+"I'm hoping it will. But I'm afraid not. He avoids us. When they met he
+wouldn't speak to Father."
+
+"That's the boy of it. Just the same he feels pretty bad about the
+quarrel. I reckon there's nothing to do but keep an eye on him and be
+ready for Soapy's move when he makes it."
+
+"I'm so afraid something will happen to Sam."
+
+"Now don't you worry, Miss Kate. Sam is going to come out of this all
+right. We'll find a way out for him yet."
+
+Behind her smile the tears lay close. "You're the _best_ friend. How can
+we ever thank you for what you're doing for Sam?"
+
+A steer had escaped from the corral and was galloping down the track in
+front of the grandstand with its tail up. The young man's eyes followed
+the animal absently as he answered in a low voice.
+
+"Do you reckon I have forgot how a girl took a rope from my neck one
+night? Do you reckon I ever forget that?"
+
+"It was nothing. I just spoke to the boys."
+
+"Or that I don't remember how the man I had shot went bail for a rustler
+he did not know?"
+
+"Dick knew you. He told us about you."
+
+"Could he tell you any good about me? Could he say anything except that I
+was a worthless no-'count----?"
+
+She put her hand on his arm and stopped him. "Don't! I won't have you say
+such things about yourself. You were just a boy in trouble."
+
+"How many would have remembered that? But you did. You fought good for my
+life that night. I'll pay my debt, part of it. The whole I never could
+pay."
+
+His voice trembled in spite of the best he could do. Their eyes did not
+meet, but each felt the thrill of joy waves surging through their veins.
+
+The preliminaries in the rough riding contest took place that afternoon.
+Of the four who won the right to compete in the finals, two were Curly
+Flandrau and Dick Maloney. They went together to the Cullison box to get
+the applause due them.
+
+Kate Cullison had two guests with her. One was Laura London, the other he
+had never seen. She was a fair young woman with thick ropes of yellow hair
+coiled round her head. Deep-breasted and robust-loined, she had the rich
+coloring of the Scandinavian race and much of the slow grace peculiar to
+its women.
+
+The hostess pronounced their names. "Miss Anderson, this is Mr. Flandrau.
+Mr. Flandrau--Miss Anderson."
+
+Curly glanced quickly at Kate Cullison, who nodded. This then was the
+sweetheart of poor Mac.
+
+Her eyes filled with tears as she took the young man's hand. To his
+surprise Curly found his throat choking up. He could not say a word, but
+she understood the unspoken sympathy. They sat together in the back of the
+box.
+
+"I'd like to come and talk to you about--Mac. Can I come this evening,
+say?"
+
+"Please."
+
+Kate gave them no more time for dwelling on the past.
+
+"You did ride so splendidly," she told Curly.
+
+"No better than Dick did," he protested.
+
+"I didn't say any better than Dick. You both did fine."
+
+"The judges will say you ride better. You've got first place cinched,"
+Maloney contributed.
+
+"Sho! Just because I cut up fancy didoes on a horse. Grandstand stunts are
+not riding. For straight stick-to-your-saddle work I know my boss, and his
+name is Dick Maloney."
+
+"We'll know to-morrow," Laura London summed up.
+
+As it turned out, Maloney was the better prophet. Curly won the first
+prize of five hundred dollars and the championship belt. Dick took second
+place.
+
+Saguache, already inclined to make a hero of the young rustler, went wild
+over his victory. He could have been chosen mayor that day if there had
+been an election. To do him justice, Curly kept his head remarkably well.
+
+"To be a human clothes pin ain't so much," he explained to Kate. "Just
+because a fellow can stick to the hurricane deck of a bronch without
+pulling leather whilst it's making a milk shake out of him don't prove
+that he has got any more brains or decency than the law allows. Say, ain't
+this a peach of a mo'ning."
+
+A party of young people were taking an early morning ride through the
+outskirts of the little city. Kate pulled her pony to a walk and glanced
+across at him. He had taken off his hat to catch the breeze, and the sun
+was picking out the golden lights in his curly brown hair. She found
+herself admiring the sure poise of the head, the flat straight back, the
+virile strength of him.
+
+It did not occur to her that she herself made a picture to delight the
+heart. The curves of her erect tiger-lithe young body were modeled by
+nature to perfection. Radiant with the sheer pleasure of life, happy as
+God's sunshine, she was a creature vividly in tune with the glad morning.
+
+"Anyhow, I'm glad you won."
+
+Their eyes met. A spark from his flashed deep into hers as a star falls
+through the heavens on a summer night. Each looked away. After one
+breathless full-pulsed moment she recovered herself.
+
+"Wouldn't it be nice if----?"
+
+His gaze followed hers to two riders in front of them. One was Maloney,
+the other Myra Anderson. The sound of the girl's laughter rippled back to
+them on the light breeze.
+
+Curly smiled. "Yes, that would be nice. The best I can say for her--and
+it's a whole lot--is that I believe she's good enough for Dick."
+
+"And the best I can say for him is that he's good enough for her," the
+girl retorted promptly.
+
+"Then let's hope----"
+
+"I can't think of anything that would please me more."
+
+He looked away into the burning sun on the edge of the horizon. "I can
+think of one thing that would please me more," he murmured.
+
+She did not ask him what it was, nor did he volunteer an explanation.
+Perhaps it was from the rising sun her face had taken its swift glow of
+warm color.
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+LUCK
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+AT THE ROUND UP CLUB
+
+
+A big game had been in progress all night at the Round Up Club. Now the
+garish light of day streamed through the windows, but the electric cluster
+still flung down its yellow glare upon the table. Behind the players were
+other smaller tables littered with cigars, discarded packs, and glasses
+full or empty. The men were in their shirt sleeves. Big broad-shouldered
+fellows they were, with the marks of the outdoors hard-riding West upon
+them. No longer young, they were still full of the vigor and energy of
+unflagging strength. From bronzed faces looked steady unwinking eyes with
+humorous creases around the corners, hard eyes that judged a man and his
+claims shrewdly and with good temper. Most of them had made good in the
+land, and their cattle fed upon a thousand hills.
+
+The least among them physically was Luck Cullison, yet he was their
+recognized leader. There was some innate quality in this man with the
+gray, steel-chilled eyes that marked him as first in whatever company he
+chose to frequent. A good friend and a good foe, men thought seriously
+before they opposed him. He had made himself a power in the Southwest
+because he was the type that goes the limit when aroused. Yet about him,
+too, there was the manner of a large amiability, of the easy tolerance
+characteristic of the West.
+
+While Alec Flandrau shuffled and dealt, the players relaxed. Cigars were
+relit, drinks ordered. Conversation reverted to the ordinary topics that
+interested Cattleland. The price of cows, the good rains, the time of the
+fall roundup, were touched upon.
+
+The door opened to let in a newcomer, a slim, graceful man much younger
+than the others present, and one whose costume and manner brought
+additional color into the picture. Flandrau, Senior, continued to shuffle
+without turning his head. Cullison also had his back to the door, but the
+man hung his broad-rimmed gray hat on the rack--beside an exactly similar
+one that belonged to the owner of the Circle C--and moved leisurely
+forward till he was within range of his vision.
+
+"Going to prove up soon on that Del Oro claim of yours, Luck?" asked
+Flandrau.
+
+He was now dealing, his eyes on the cards, so that he missed the
+embarrassment in the faces of those about him.
+
+"On Thursday, the first day the law allows," Cullison answered quietly.
+
+Flandrau chuckled. "I reckon Cass Fendrick will be some sore."
+
+"I expect." Cullison's gaze met coolly the black, wrathful eyes of the man
+who had just come in.
+
+"Sort of put a crimp in his notions when you took up the cañon draw,"
+Flandrau surmised.
+
+Something in the strained silence struck the dealer as unusual. He looked
+up, and showed a momentary confusion.
+
+"Didn't know you were there, Cass. Looks like I put my foot in it sure
+that time. I ce'tainly thought you were an absentee," he apologized.
+
+"Or you wouldn't have been talking about me," retorted Fendrick acidly.
+The words were flung at Flandrau, but plainly they were meant as a
+challenge for Cullison.
+
+A bearded man, the oldest in the party, cut in with good-natured reproof.
+"I shouldn't wonder, Cass, but your name is liable to be mentioned just
+like that of any other man."
+
+"Didn't know you were in this, Yesler," Fendrick drawled insolently.
+
+"Oh, well, I butted in," the other laughed easily. He pushed a stack of
+chips toward the center of the table. "The pot's open."
+
+Fendrick, refused a quarrel, glared at the impassive face of Cullison, and
+passed to the rear room for a drink. His impudence needed fortifying, for
+he knew that since he had embarked in the sheep business he was not
+welcome at this club, that in fact certain members had suggested his name
+be dropped from the books. Before he returned to the poker table the drink
+he had ordered became three.
+
+The game was over and accounts were being straightened. Cullison was the
+heavy loser. All night he had been bucking hard luck. His bluffs had been
+called. The others had not come in against his strong hands. On a straight
+flush he had drawn down the ante and nothing more. To say the least, it
+was exasperating. But his face had showed no anger. He had played poker
+too many years, was too much a sport in the thorough-going frontier
+fashion, to wince when the luck broke badly for him.
+
+The settlement showed that the owner of the Circle C was twenty-five
+hundred dollars behind the game. He owed Mackenzie twelve hundred,
+Flandrau four hundred, and three hundred to Yesler.
+
+With Fendrick sitting in an easy chair just across the room, he found it a
+little difficult to say what otherwise would have been a matter of
+course.
+
+"My bank's busted just now, boys. Have to ask you to let it stand for a
+few days. Say, till the end of the week."
+
+Fendrick laughed behind the paper he was pretending to read. He knew quite
+well that Luck's word was as good as his bond, but he chose to suggest a
+doubt.
+
+"Maybe you'll explain the joke to us, Cass," the owner of the Circle C
+said very quietly.
+
+"Oh, I was just laughing at the things I see, Luck," returned the younger
+man with airy offense, his eyes on the printed sheet.
+
+"Meaning for instance?"
+
+"Just human nature. Any law against laughing?"
+
+Cullison turned his back on him. "See you on Thursday if that's soon
+enough, boys."
+
+"All the time you want, Luck. Let mine go till after the roundup if you'd
+rather," Mackenzie suggested.
+
+"Thursday suits me."
+
+Cullison rose and stretched. He had impressed his strong, dominant
+personality upon his clothes, from the high-heeled boots to the very
+wrinkles in the corduroy coat he was now putting on. He bad enemies, a
+good many of them, but his friends were legion.
+
+"Don't hurry yourself."
+
+"Oh, I'll rustle the money, all right. Coming down to the hotel?" Luck was
+reaching for his hat, but turned toward his friends as he spoke.
+
+Without looking again at Fendrick, he led the way to the street.
+
+The young man left alone cursed softly to himself, and ordered another
+drink. He knew he was overdoing it, but the meeting with Cullison had
+annoyed him exceedingly. The men had never been friends, and of late years
+they had been leaders of hostile camps. Both of them could be overbearing,
+and there was scarcely a week but their interests overlapped. Luck was
+capable of great generosity, but he could be obstinate as the rock of
+Gibraltar when he chose. There had been differences about the ownership of
+calves, about straying cattle, about political matters. Finally had come
+open hostility. Cass leased from the forestry department the land upon
+which Cullison's cattle had always run free of expense. Upon this he had
+put sheep, a thing in itself of great injury to the cattle interests. The
+stockmen had all been banded together in opposition to the forestry
+administration of the new régime, and Luck regarded Fendrick's action as
+treachery to the common cause.
+
+He struck back hard. In Arizona the open range is valuable only so long as
+the water holes also are common property or a private supply available.
+The Circle C cattle and those of Fendrick came down from the range to the
+Del Oro to water at a point where the cañon walls opened to a spreading
+valley. This bit of meadow Luck homesteaded and fenced on the north side,
+thus cutting the cattle of his enemy from the river.
+
+Cass was furious. He promptly tore down the fence to let his cattle and
+sheep through. Cullison rebuilt it, put up a shack at a point which
+commanded the approach, and set a guard upon it day and night. Open
+warfare had ensued, and one of the sheepherders had been beaten because he
+persisted in crossing the dead line.
+
+Now Cullison was going to put the legal seal on the matter by making final
+proof on his homestead. Cass knew that if he did so it would practically
+put him out of business. He would be at the mercy of his foe, who could
+ruin him if he pleased. Luck would be in a position to dictate terms
+absolutely.
+
+Nor did it make his defeat any more palatable to Cass that he had brought
+it on himself by his bad-tempered unneighborliness and by his overreaching
+disposition. A hundred times he had blacknamed himself for an arrant fool
+because he had not anticipated the move of his enemy and homesteaded on
+his own account.
+
+He felt that there must be some way out of the trap if he could only find
+it. Whenever the thought of eating humble pie to Luck came into his mind,
+the rage boiled in him. He swore he would not do it. Better a hundred
+times to see the thing out to a fighting finish.
+
+Taking the broad-rimmed gray hat he found on the rack, Cass passed out of
+the clubhouse and into the sun-bathed street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+LUCK MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
+
+
+Cullison and his friends proceeded down Papago street to the old plaza
+where their hotel was located. Their transit was an interrupted one, for
+these four cattlemen were among the best known in the Southwest. All along
+the route they scattered nods of recognition, friendly greetings, and
+genial banter. One of them--the man who had formerly been the hard-riding,
+quick-shooting sheriff of the county--met also scowls once or twice, to
+which he was entirely indifferent. Luck had no slavish respect for law,
+had indeed, if rumor were true, run a wild and stormy course in his youth.
+But his reign as sheriff had been a terror to lawbreakers. He had made
+enemies, desperate and unscrupulous ones, who had sworn to wipe him from
+among the living, and one of these he was now to meet for the first time
+since the man had stood handcuffed before him, livid with fury, and had
+sworn to cut his heart out at the earliest chance.
+
+It was in the lobby of the hotel that Cullison came plump against Lute
+Blackwell. For just a moment they stared at each other before the former
+sheriff spoke.
+
+"Out again, eh, Blackwell?" he said easily.
+
+From the bloodshot eyes one could have told at a glance the man had been
+drinking heavily. From whiskey he had imbibed a Dutch courage just bold
+enough to be dangerous.
+
+"Yes, I'm out--and back again, just as I promised, Mr. Sheriff," he
+threatened.
+
+The cattleman ignored his manner. "Then I'll give you a piece of advice
+gratis. Papago County has grown away from the old days. It has got past
+the two-gun man. He's gone to join the antelope and the painted Indian.
+You'll do well to remember that."
+
+The fellow leaned forward, sneering so that his ugly mouth looked like a
+crooked gash. "How about the one-gun man, Mr. Sheriff?"
+
+"He doesn't last long now."
+
+"Doesn't he?"
+
+The man's rage boiled over. But Luck was far and away the quicker of the
+two. His left hand shot forward and gripped the rising wrist, his right
+caught the hairy throat and tightened on it. He shook the convict as if he
+had been a child, and flung him, black in the face, against the wall,
+where he hung, strangling and sputtering.
+
+"I--I'll get you yet," the ruffian panted. But he did not again attempt to
+reach for the weapon in his hip pocket.
+
+"You talk too much with your mouth."
+
+With superb contempt, Luck slapped him, turned on his heel, and moved
+away, regardless of the raw, stark lust to kill that was searing this
+man's elemental brain.
+
+Across the convict's rage came a vision. He saw a camp far up in the
+Rincons, and seated around a fire five men at breakfast, all of them
+armed. Upon them had come one man suddenly. He had dominated the situation
+quietly, had made one disarm the others, had handcuffed the one he wanted
+and taken him from his friends through a hostile country where any hour he
+might be shot from ambush. Moreover, he had traveled with his prisoner two
+days, always cheerful and matter of fact, not at all uneasy as to what
+might lie behind the washes or the rocks they passed. Finally he had
+brought his man safely to Casa Grande, from whence he had gone over the
+road to the penitentiary. Blackwell had been the captured man, and he held
+a deep respect for the prowess of the officer who had taken him. The sheer
+pluck of the adventure had alone made it possible. For such an unflawed
+nerve Blackwell knew his jerky rage was no match.
+
+The paroled convict recovered his breath and slunk out of the hotel.
+
+Billie Mackenzie, owner of the Fiddleback ranch, laughed even while he
+disapproved. "Some day, Luck, you'll get yours when you are throwing
+chances at a coyote like this. You'll guess your man wrong, or he'll be
+one glass drunker than you figure on, and then he'll plug you through and
+through."
+
+"The man that takes chances lives longest, Mac," his friend replied,
+dismissing the subject carelessly. "I'm going to tuck away about three
+hours of sleep. So long." And with a nod he was gone to his room.
+
+"All the same Luck's too derned rash," Flandrau commented. "He'll run into
+trouble good and hard one of these days. When I'm in Rattlesnake Gulch I
+don't aim to pick posies too unobservant."
+
+Mackenzie looked worried. No man lived whom he admired so much as Luck
+Cullison. "And he hadn't ought to be sitting in these big games. He's hard
+up. Owes a good bit here and there. Always was a spender. First thing
+he'll have to sell the Circle C to square things. He'll pay us this week
+like he said he would. That's dead sure. He'd die before he'd fall down on
+it, now Fendrick has got his back up. But I swear I don't know where he'll
+raise the price. Money is so tight right now."
+
+That afternoon Luck called at every bank in Saguache. All of the bankers
+knew him and were friendly to him, but in spite of their personal regard
+they could do nothing for him.
+
+"It's this stringency, Luck," Jordan of the Cattlemen's National explained
+to him. "We can't let a dollar go even on the best security. You know I'd
+like to let you have it, but it wouldn't be right to the bank. We've got
+to keep our reserve up. Why, I'm lying awake nights trying to figure out a
+way to call in more of our money."
+
+"I'm not asking much, Jack."
+
+"Luck, I'd let you have it if I dared. Why, we're running close to the
+wind. Public confidence is a mighty ticklish thing. If I didn't have
+twenty thousand coming from El Paso on the Flyer to-night I'd be uneasy
+for the bank."
+
+"Twenty thousand on the Flyer. I reckon you ship by express, don't you?"
+
+"Yes. Don't mention it to anyone. That twenty thousand would come handy to
+a good many people in this country these times."
+
+"It would come right handy to me," Luck laughed ruefully. "I need every
+cent of it. After the beef roundup, I'll be on Easy Street, but it's going
+to be hard sledding to keep going till then."
+
+"You'll make a turn somehow. It will work out. Maybe when money isn't so
+tight I'll be able to do something for you."
+
+Luck returned to the hotel morosely, and tried to figure a way out of his
+difficulties. He was not going to be beaten. He never had accepted defeat,
+even in the early days when he had sometimes taken a lawless short cut to
+what he wanted. By God, he would not lose out after all these years of
+fighting. It had been his desperate need of money that had made him sit in
+last night's poker game. But he had succeeded only in making a bad
+situation worse. He knew his debts by heart, but he jotted them down on
+the back of an envelope and added them again.
+
+  Mortgage on ranch (due Oct. 1), $13,000
+  Note to First National,           3,500
+  Note to Reynolds,                 1,750
+  I O U to Mackenzie,               1,200
+  Same to Flandrau,                   400
+  Same to Yesler,                     300
+                                   ------
+                           Total, $20,150
+
+Twenty thousand was the sum he needed, and mighty badly, too.
+Absentmindedly he turned the envelope over and jotted down one or two
+other things. Twenty thousand dollars! Just the sum Jordan had coming to
+the bank on the Flyer. Subconsciously, Luck's fingers gave expression to
+his thoughts. $20,000. Half a dozen times they penciled it, and just below
+the figures, "W. & S. Ex. Co." Finally they wrote automatically the one
+word, "To-night."
+
+Luck looked at what he had written, laughed grimly, and tore the envelope
+in two. He threw the pieces in the waste paper basket.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+AN INITIALED HAT
+
+
+Mackenzie was reading the _Sentinel_ while he ate a late breakfast. He had
+it propped against the water bottle, so that it need not interfere with
+the transportation of sausages, fried potatoes, hot cakes, and coffee to
+their common destination.
+
+Trying to do two things at once has its disadvantages. A startling
+headline caught his eyes just as the cup was at his lips. Hot coffee,
+precipitately swallowed, scalded his tongue and throat. He set down the
+cup, swore mildly, and gave his attention to the news that had excited
+him. The reporter had run the story to a column, but the leading paragraph
+gave the gist of it:
+
+  While the citizens of Saguache were peacefully sleeping last night, a
+  lone bandit held up the messengers of the Western and Southern
+  Express Company, and relieved them of $20,000 just received from El
+  Paso on the Flyer.
+
+  Perry Hawley, the local manager of the company, together with Len
+  Rogers, the armed guard, had just returned from the depot, where the
+  money had been turned over to them and receipted for. Hawley had
+  unlocked the door of the office and had stepped in, followed by
+  Rogers, when a masked desperado appeared suddenly out of the
+  darkness, disarmed the guard and manager, took the money, passed
+  through the door and locked it after him, and vanished as silently as
+  he had come. Before leaving, he warned his victims that the place
+  would be covered for ten minutes and at any attempt to call for help
+  they would be shot. Notwithstanding this, the imprisoned men risked
+  their lives by raising the alarm.
+
+Further down the page Mackenzie discovered that the desperado was still at
+large, but that Sheriff Bolt expected shortly to lay hands on him.
+
+"I'll bet a dollar Nick Bolt didn't make any such claim to the reporter.
+He ain't the kind that brags," Mackenzie told himself.
+
+He folded the paper and returned to his room to make preparation to return
+to his ranch. The buzz of the telephone called him to the receiver. The
+voice of Cullison reached him.
+
+"That you, Mac. I'll be right up. No, don't come down. I'd rather see you
+alone."
+
+The owner of the Circle C came right to business. "I've made a raise, Mac,
+and while I've got it I'm going to skin off what's coming to you."
+
+He had taken a big roll of bills from his pocket, and was counting off
+what he had lost to his friend. The latter noticed that it all seemed to
+be in twenties.
+
+"Twelve hundred. That squares us, Mac."
+
+The Scotchman was vaguely uneasy without a definite reason for his
+anxiety. Only last night Cullison had told him not a single bank in town
+would advance him a dollar. Now he had money in plenty. Where had he got
+it?
+
+"No hurry at all, Luck. Pay when you're good and ready."
+
+"That's now."
+
+"Because I'll only put it in the Cattlemen's National. It's yours if you
+need it."
+
+"I'll let you know if I do," his friend nodded.
+
+Mackenzie's eye fell on a copy of the _Sentinel_ protruding from the
+other's pocket. "Read about the hold-up of the W. & S. Express? That
+fellow had his nerve with him."
+
+"Sho! This hold-up game's the easiest yet. He got the drop on them, and
+there was nothing to it. The key was still in the lock of the door. Well,
+when he gets through he steps out, turns the key, and rides away."
+
+"How did he know there was money coming in last night?"
+
+"There's always a leak about things of that sort. Somebody talks. I knew
+it myself for that matter."
+
+"You knew! Who told you?"
+
+"That's a secret, Mac. Come to think of it, I wish you wouldn't tell
+anybody that I knew. I don't want to get the man who told me in trouble."
+
+"Sure I won't." He passed to another phase of the subject. "The _Sentinel_
+says Bolt expects to catch the robber. Think he will?"
+
+"Not if the fellow knows his business. Bolt has nothing to go on. He has
+the whole Southwest to pick from. For all he knows, it was you."
+
+"Yes, but----"
+
+"Or more likely me." The gray eyes of the former sheriff held a frosty
+smile.
+
+In spite of that smile, or perhaps because of it, Mackenzie felt again
+that flash of doubt. "What's the use of talking foolishness, Luck? Course
+you didn't do it. Anybody would know that. Man, I whiles wonder at you,"
+he protested, relapsing into his native tongue as he sometimes did when
+excited.
+
+"I didn't say I did it. I said I might have done it"
+
+"Oh, well! You didn't. I know you too well."
+
+But the trouble was Mackenzie did not know him well enough. Cullison was
+hard up, close to the wall. How far would he go to save himself? Thirty
+years before when they had been wild young lads these two had hunted their
+fun together. Luck had always been the leader, had always been ready for
+any daredeviltry that came to his mind. He had been the kind to go the
+limit in whatever he undertook, to play it to a finish in spite of
+opposition. And what a man is he must be to the end. In his slow, troubled
+fashion, Mac wondered if his old side partner's streak of lawlessness
+would take him as far as a hold-up. Of course it would not, he assured
+himself; but he could not get the ridiculous notion out of his head. It
+drew his thoughts, and at last his steps toward the express office where
+the hold-up had taken place.
+
+He opened a futile conversation with Hawley, while Len Rogers, the guard
+who had not made good, looked at him with a persistent, hostile eye.
+
+"Hard luck," the cattleman condoled.
+
+"That's what you think, is it? You and your friends, too, I reckon."
+
+Mackenzie looked at the guard, who was plainly sore in every humiliated
+crevice of his brain. "I ain't speaking for my friends, Len, but for
+myself," he said amiably.
+
+Rogers laughed harshly. "Didn't know but what you might be speaking for
+one of your friends."
+
+"They can all speak for themselves when they have got anything to say."
+
+Hawley sent a swift, warning look toward his subordinate. The latter came
+to time sulkily. "I didn't say they couldn't."
+
+Mackenzie drifted from this unfriendly atmosphere to the courthouse. He
+found Sheriff Bolt in his office. It was that official's busy day, but he
+found time not only to see the owner of the Fiddleback, but to press upon
+him cordially an invitation to sit down and smoke. The Scotchman wanted to
+discuss the robbery, but was shy about attacking the subject. While he
+boggled at it, Bolt was off on another tack.
+
+Inside of a quarter of an hour the sheriff had found out all he wanted to
+know about the poker game, Cullison's financial difficulties, and the news
+that Luck had liquidated his poker debt since breakfast time. He had
+turned the simple cattleman's thoughts inside out, was aware of the doubt
+Billie had scarcely admitted to himself, and knew all he did except the
+one point Luck had asked him not to mention. Moreover, he had talked so
+casually that his visitor had no suspicion of what he was driving at.
+
+Mackenzie attempted a little sleuthing of his own. "This hold-up fellow
+kind of slipped one over on you last night, Bolt."
+
+"Maybe so, and maybe not."
+
+"Got a clew, have you?"
+
+"Oh, yes--yes." The sheriff looked straight at him. "I've a notion his
+initials are L. C."
+
+Billie felt himself flushing. "What makes you think that, Nick?"
+
+Bolt walked to a cupboard and unlocked it. His back was toward the
+cattleman, but the latter could see him take something from a shelf.
+Turning quickly, the sheriff tossed a hat upon the table.
+
+"Ever see this before?"
+
+Mac picked it up. His fingers were not quite steady, for a great dread
+drenched his heart like a rush of icy water. Upon that gray felt hat with
+the pinched crown was stamped the individuality--and the initials--of Luck
+Cullison.
+
+"Don't know as I recognize it," he lied, not very readily. "Not to know
+it. Why?"
+
+"Thought perhaps you might know it. The hold-up dropped it while getting
+away."
+
+Mackenzie's eyes flinched. "Dropped it. How was that?"
+
+"A man happened to come along San Miguel street just as the robber swung
+to his horse. He heard the cries of the men inside, guessed what was
+doing, and exchanged shots with the miscreant. He shot this hat off the
+fellow's head."
+
+"The _Sentinel_ didn't tell any such a story."
+
+"I didn't give that detail to the editor."
+
+"Who was the man that shot the robber?"
+
+"Cass Fendrick."
+
+"But he didn't claim to recognize the hold-up?" Mackenzie forced himself
+to ask this in spite of his fears.
+
+"Not for certain."
+
+"Then he--he had a guess."
+
+"Yes, Mac. He guessed a man whose initials are the same as those in that
+hat."
+
+"Who do you mean, Nick?"
+
+"I don't need to tell you that. You know who."
+
+"If you mean Luck Cullison, it's a damned lie," exploded the cattleman. He
+was furious with himself, for he felt now that he had been unsuspectingly
+helping to certify the suspicions of the sheriff. Like an idiot, he had
+let out much that told heavily against his friend.
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"Cass Fendrick is not on good terms with him. We all know that. Luck has
+got him in a hole. I wouldn't put it a bit above Cass to lie if he thought
+it would hurt Luck. Tell you it's a damned conspiracy. Man, can't you see
+that?"
+
+"What about this hat, with the two holes shot through the rim?"
+
+"Sho! We all wear hats just like that. Look at mine." Billie held it out
+eagerly.
+
+"Has yours an L. C. stamped in the sweat band?" Bolt asked with a smile.
+
+"I know you ain't his friend, Nick. But you want to be fair to him even if
+he did oppose your election." Mackenzie laid an appealing hand on the knee
+of the man seated opposite him.
+
+"I'm sheriff of Papago County. It doesn't make any difference who worked
+for or against me, Billie. I was elected, and I'm going to enforce the
+law."
+
+"And you think Luck would do a fool thing like this?"
+
+"I didn't say I thought so, but it's my business not to overlook any
+bets."
+
+"But you do believe it. Now, don't you?"
+
+"Since you've got to have an answer--yes, I do."
+
+"By heaven, I'd as lief think I did it myself."
+
+"You're a good friend," Bolt conceded. "By the way, I've got to pay for
+some supplies this morning. Can you cash a check for a hundred?"
+
+"I reckon so." Mackenzie drew from his pocket the roll Cullison had given
+him two hours before. He peeled five twenties from it. The sheriff
+observed that the prevailing denomination was the same.
+
+"Get these from Luck?" he asked carelessly.
+
+The cattleman stared at him, and the suspicion grew on him that he had
+been trapped again.
+
+"Why do you ask?"
+
+"Because it happens the bills stolen from the W. & S. were all twenties."
+
+"No, I didn't get them from Cullison. This is money I had," he answered
+sullenly.
+
+"Then I dare say you can let me see the money you got from him."
+
+"He paid me by check."
+
+"Banked it yet?"
+
+"That's my business, Nick."
+
+"And mine, Billie. I can find out from the bank if you have. Besides, I
+happen to know that Luck's bank account is overdrawn."
+
+"Some one has been at you to prejudice you, Bolt."
+
+"Nobody but Luck Cullison himself--and his actions."
+
+From the office of the sheriff, Mackenzie wandered to the club in search
+of Luck. He was thoroughly dispirited, both dreaded to meet Luck, and yet
+was anxious to do so. For he wanted to warn him, wanted to see him fall
+into one of his chill rages when he told him there were suspicions against
+him.
+
+Cullison had left the club, but Alec Flandrau was still there. Billie drew
+him into a corner, and learned that Luck had just settled with him.
+
+"Anyone see him give it to you, Alec?"
+
+"No. He took me upstairs to the library and paid me."
+
+"In bills?"
+
+"Yes--in twenties."
+
+"For God's sake, don't tell anybody that." In a dozen jerky sentences the
+owner of the Fiddleback told Flandrau of the suspicions of the sheriff.
+
+Together they went in search of Luck. But though they looked for him all
+day, he was not to be found. They might have concluded he had ridden out
+to the ranch, but his horse was still at the stable where he had left it.
+
+The last that had been seen of him Luck was walking along the plaza toward
+the hotel, not a hundred and fifty yards from the latter. A dozen men had
+spoken to him in the distance of a block. But he had not been seen to
+reach his hotel. He had not called for his room key. Somehow he had
+vanished, and none could tell how or where.
+
+To Bolt his disappearance was as good as a confession of guilt. He
+searched Luck's room at the hotel. Among other things, he found an old
+envelope with interesting data penciled on it.
+
+Before nightfall the word was whispered all over Saguache that Luck
+Cullison, pioneer cattleman and former sheriff, was suspected of the
+W. & S. Express robbery and had fled to save himself from arrest. At first
+men marveled that one so well known and so popular, one who had been so
+prominent in affairs, could be suspected of such a crime, but as they
+listened to the evidence and saw it fall like blocks of a building into
+place, the conviction grew that he was the masked bandit wanted by the
+sheriff.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+KATE USES HER QUIRT
+
+
+Red-headed Bob Cullison finished making the diamond hitch and proudly
+called his cousin Kate to inspect the packhorse.
+
+"You never saw the hitch thrown better, sis," he bragged, boy-like. "Uncle
+Luck says I do it well as he can."
+
+"It's fine, Bob," his cousin agreed, with the proper enthusiasm in her
+dark eyes. "You'll have to teach me how to do it one of these days."
+
+She was in a khaki riding skirt, and she pulled herself to the saddle of
+her own horse. From this position she gave him final instructions before
+leaving. "Stay around the house, Bob. Dad will call the ranch up this
+morning probably, and I want you to be where you can hear the 'phone ring.
+Tell him about that white-faced heifer, and to be sure to match the goods
+I gave him. You'll find dinner set out for you on the dining-room table."
+
+It had been on Wednesday morning that Luck Cullison disappeared from the
+face of the earth. Before twenty-four hours the gossip was being whispered
+in the most distant cañons of Papago County. The riders of the Circle C
+knew it, but none of them had yet told either Bob or Kate.
+
+Now it was Friday morning and Kate was beginning to wonder why her father
+did not call her up. Could it be that Soapy Stone was pulling off his
+train robbery at Tin Cup and her father so busy that he could not take
+time to ride to a telephone station? She did not like to leave the ranch
+just now, even for a few hours, but other business called her away.
+Sweeney was holding down the fort at the Del Oro against Fendrick's
+sheepherders, and his weekly supply of provisions had to be taken to him.
+Since she wanted to see with her own eyes how things were getting along at
+the cañon, she was taking the supplies in person.
+
+It was a beautiful morning, even for Arizona. The soft air was at its
+winiest best. The spring rains had carpeted the hills with an unusually
+fine grass, and the summer suns had not yet burnt this to the crisp brown
+of August. Her young heart expanded with the very joy of life. Oh, how
+good it was to be alive in a world of warm sunshine, of blue, unflecked
+sky, and of cool, light breezes. Swifts basked on the rocks or darted like
+arrows for safety, and lay palpitating with suspense. The clear call of
+the quails sounded to right and left of her. To her eager consciousness it
+was as if some bath of splendor had poured down overnight upon the old
+earth.
+
+She rode from sunlight into shadow and from shadow to sunlight again,
+winding along the hill trail that took her toward the Del Oro. After hours
+of travel she came to the saddle from which one looked down to the gap in
+the cañon walls that had been the common watering place of all men's
+cattle, but now was homesteaded by her father. Far below her it lay, a
+dwarfed picture with detail blurred to a vague impressionistic map. She
+could see the hut, the fence line running parallel to the stream on the
+other side, some grazing cattle, Sweeney's horse in the corral.
+
+The piteous bleating of a lamb floated to her. Kate dismounted and made
+her way toward the sound. A pathetic little huddle of frightened life
+tried to struggle free at her approach. The slim leg of the lamb had
+become wedged at the intersection of several rocks in such a way that it
+could not be withdrawn.
+
+Kate pulled the boulder away, and released the prisoner. It looked at her
+and bleated without attempting to move. She took the soft, woolly creature
+in her arms, and examined the wounded limb, all torn and raw from its
+efforts to escape. A wound, she recalled, ought to be washed with cold
+water and bound. Returning to her horse, she put the little animal in
+front of the saddle and continued on the trail that led down to the
+river.
+
+Sweeney came out from the cabin and hailed her. He was a squat,
+weather-beaten man, who had ridden for her father ever since she could
+remember.
+
+"What in Mexico you got there?" he asked in surprise.
+
+She explained the circumstances under which she had found the lamb.
+
+"And what you aiming to do with it?"
+
+"I'm going to tie up its leg and take it across the river. Some of the
+C. F. herders are sure to find it before night."
+
+"Sho! What are you fooling with Cass Fendrick's sheep for?" he grumbled.
+
+"It isn't a sheep, but a lamb. And I'm not going to see it suffer, no
+matter who owns it."
+
+She was already walking toward the river. Protestingly he followed, and
+lent a hand at tying up the leg with the girl's handkerchief.
+
+"I'll just ride across and leave it outside the fence," she said.
+
+"Lemme go. I know the river better."
+
+Sweeney did not wait for her assent, but swung to the saddle. She handed
+him the lamb, and he forded the stream. At no place did the water come
+above the fetlocks of the horse.
+
+"I'm so glad you know the dangerous places. Be careful you don't drown,"
+she mocked.
+
+The rider's laughter rang back to her. One of her jokes went a long way
+with Sweeney. The danger of the river had been the flimsiest of excuses.
+What he had been afraid of was that one of Fendrick's herders might be
+lurking in some arroyo beyond the fence. There was little chance that he
+would dare hurt her, but he might shout something unpleasant.
+
+In point of fact, Sweeney saw some one disappear into a wash as he reached
+the fence. The rider held up the lamb, jabbered a sentence of broncho
+Spanish at the spot where the man had been, put down his bleating burden,
+and cantered back to his own side of the river without unnecessary delay.
+No bullets had yet been fired in the Cullison-Fendrick feud, but a
+"greaser" was liable to do anything, according to the old puncher's
+notion. Anyhow, he did not want to be a temptation to anyone with a gun in
+his hand.
+
+An hour later, Kate, on the return trip, topped the rise where she had
+found the lamb. Pulling up her pony, to rest the horse from its climb, she
+gazed back across the river to the rolling ridges among which lay the
+C. F. ranch. Oddly enough, she had never seen Cass Fendrick. He had come
+to Papago County a few years before, and had bought the place from an
+earlier settler. In the disagreement that had fallen between the two men,
+she was wholly on the side of her father. Sometimes she had wondered what
+manner of man this Cass Fendrick might be; disagreeable, of course, but
+after precisely what fashion.
+
+"Your property, I believe, Miss Cullison."
+
+She turned at sound of the suave, amused drawl, and looked upon a dark,
+slim young man of picturesque appearance. He was bowing to her with an
+obvious intention of overdoing it. Voice and manner had the habit of the
+South rather than of the West. A kind of indolent irony sat easily upon
+the swarthy face crowned with a black sleek head of hair.
+
+Her instinct told the girl who he was. She did not need to ask herself any
+longer what Cass Fendrick looked like.
+
+He was holding out to her the bloodstained kerchief that had been tied to
+the lamb's leg.
+
+"I didn't care to have it returned," she told him with cold civility.
+
+"Now, if you'd only left a note to say so, it would have saved me a quite
+considerable climb," he suggested.
+
+In spite of herself a flicker of amusement lit her eyes. She had a sense
+of humor, "I did not think of that, and since you have troubled to return
+it to me, I can only say thank you."
+
+She held out her hand for the kerchief, but he did not move. "I don't know
+but what I'll keep it, after all, for a souvenir. Just to remind me that
+Luck Cullison's daughter went out of her way to help one of Cass
+Fendrick's sheep."
+
+She ignored his sardonic mockery. "I don't let live creatures suffer when
+I can help it. Are you going to give me my handkerchief?"
+
+"Haven't made up my mind yet. Perhaps I'll have it washed and bring it
+home to you."
+
+She decided that he was trying to flirt with her, and turned the head of
+her horse to start.
+
+"Now your father has pulled his freight, I expect it will be safe to
+call," he added.
+
+The bridle rein tightened. "What nonsense are you saying about my
+father?"
+
+"No news, Miss Cullison; just what everybody is saying, that he has gone
+to cover on account of the hold-up."
+
+A chill fear drenched her heart. "Do you mean the hold-up of the Limited
+at Tin Cup?"
+
+"No, I don't." He looked at her sharply. "Mean to say you haven't heard of
+the hold-up of the W.& S. Express Company at Saguache?"
+
+"No. When was it?"
+
+"Tuesday night. The man got away with twenty thousand dollars."
+
+"And what has my father to do with that?" she demanded haughtily.
+
+A satisfied spleen purred in his voice. "My dear young lady, that is what
+everyone is asking."
+
+"What do you mean? Say it." There was fear as well as anger in her voice.
+Had her father somehow got into trouble trying to save Sam?
+
+"Oh, I'm saying nothing. But what Sheriff Bolt means is that when he gets
+his handcuffs on Luck Cullison, he'll have the man that can tell him where
+that twenty thousand is."
+
+"It's a lie."
+
+He waved his hand airily, as one who declined responsibility in the
+matter, but his dark, saturnine face sparkled with malice.
+
+"Maybe so. Seems to be some evidence, but I reckon he can explain that
+away--when he comes back. The hold-up dropped a hat with the initials
+L. C. in the band, since identified as his. He had lost a lot of money at
+poker. Next day he paid it. He had no money in the bank, but maybe he
+found it growing on a cactus bush."
+
+"You liar!" she panted, eyes blazing.
+
+"I'll take that from you, my dear, because you look so blamed pretty when
+you're mad; but I wouldn't take it from him--from your father, who is
+hiding out in the hills somewhere."
+
+Anger uncurbed welled from her in an inarticulate cry. He had come close
+to her, and was standing beside the stirrup, one bold hand upon the rein.
+Her quirt went swiftly up and down, cut like a thin bar of red-hot iron
+across his uplifted face. He stumbled back, half blind with the pain.
+Before he could realize what had happened the spur on her little boot
+touched the side of the pony, and it was off with a bound. She was
+galloping wildly down the trail toward home.
+
+He looked after her, fingers caressing the welt that burned his cheek.
+
+"You'll pay for that, Kate Cullison," he said aloud to himself.
+
+Anger stung him, but deeper than his rage was a growing admiration. How
+she had lashed out at him because he had taunted her of her father. By
+Jove, a girl like that would be worth taming! His cold eyes glittered as
+he put the bloodstained kerchief in his pocket. She was not through with
+him yet--not by a good deal.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+"AIN'T SHE THE GAMEST LITTLE THOROUGHBRED?"
+
+
+Kate galloped into the ranch plaza around which the buildings were set,
+slipped from her pony, and ran at once to the telephone. Bob was on a side
+porch mending a bridle.
+
+"Have you heard anything from dad?" she cried through the open door.
+
+"Nope," he answered, hammering down a rivet.
+
+Kate called up the hotel where Maloney was staying at Saguache, but could
+not get him. She tried the Del Mar, where her father and his friends
+always put up when in town. She asked in turn for Mackenzie, for Yesler,
+for Alec Flandrau.
+
+While she waited for an answer, the girl moved nervously about the room.
+She could not sit down or settle herself at anything. For some instinct
+told her that Fendrick's taunt was not a lie cut out of whole cloth.
+
+The bell rang. Instantly she was at the telephone. Mackenzie was at the
+other end of the line.
+
+"Oh, Uncle Mac." She had called him uncle ever since she could remember.
+"What is it they are saying about dad? Tell me it isn't true," she
+begged.
+
+"A pack of lees, lassie." His Scotch idiom and accent had succumbed to
+thirty years on the plains, but when he became excited it rose triumphant
+through the acquired speech of the Southwest.
+
+"Then is he there--in Saguache, I mean."
+
+"No-o. He's not in town."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"Hoots! He'll just have gone somewhere on business."
+
+He did not bluff well. Through the hearty assurance she pierced to the
+note of trouble in his voice.
+
+"You're hiding something from me, Uncle Mac. I won't have it. You tell me
+the truth--the whole truth."
+
+In three sentences he sketched it for her, and when he had finished he
+knew by the sound of her voice that she was greatly frightened.
+
+"Something has happened to him. I'm coming to town."
+
+"If you feel you'd rather. Take the stage in to-morrow."
+
+"No. I'm coming to-night. I'll bring Bob. Save us two rooms at the
+hotel."
+
+"Better wait till to-morrow. Forty miles is a long ride, lass."
+
+"No, I can't wait. Have Curly Flandrau come to the Del Mar if he's in
+town--and Dick Maloney, too. That's all. Good-by."
+
+She turned to her cousin, who was standing big-eyed at her elbow.
+
+"What is it, Kate? Has anything happened to Uncle Luck?"
+
+She swallowed a lump in her throat. "Dad's gone, Bob. Nobody knows where.
+They say--the liars--that he robbed the W. & S. Express Company."
+
+Suddenly her face went down into her forearm on the table and sobs began
+to rack her body. The boy, staggered at this preposterous charge, could
+only lay his hand on her shoulder and beg her not to cry.
+
+"It'll be all right, Kate. Wait till Uncle Luck comes back. He'll make 'em
+sick for talking about him."
+
+"But suppose he--suppose he----" She dared not complete what was in her
+mind, that perhaps he had been ambushed by some of his enemies and
+killed.
+
+"You bet they'll drop into a hole and pull it in after them when Uncle
+Luck shows up," the boy bragged with supreme confidence.
+
+His cousin nodded, choking down her sobs. "Of course. It--it'll come out
+all right--as soon as he finds out what they're saying. Saddle two horses
+right away, Bob."
+
+"Sure. We'll soon find where he is, I bet you."
+
+The setting sun found their journey less than half done. The brilliant
+rainbow afterglow of sunset faded to colder tints, and then disappeared.
+The purple saw-toothed range softened to a violet hue. With the coming of
+the moon the hard, dry desert lost detail, took on a loveliness of tone
+and outline that made it an idealized painting of itself. Myriads of stars
+were out, so that the heavens seemed sown with them as an Arizona hillside
+is in spring with yellow poppies.
+
+Kate was tortured with anxiety, but the surpassing beauty that encompassed
+them was somehow a comfort to her. Deep within her something denied that
+her father could be gone out of a world so good. And if he were alive,
+Curly Flandrau would find him--Curly and Dick between them. Luck Cullison
+had plenty of good friends who would not stand by and see him wronged.
+
+Any theory of his disappearance that accepted his guilt did not occur to
+her mind for an instant. The two had been very close to each other. Luck
+had been in the habit of saying smilingly that she was his majordomo, his
+right bower. Some share of his lawless temperament she inherited, enough
+to feel sure that this particular kind of wrongdoing was impossible for
+him. He was reckless, sometimes passionate, but she did not need to
+reassure herself that he was scrupulously honest.
+
+This brought her back to the only other tenable hypothesis--foul play. And
+from this she shrank with a quaking heart. For surely if his enemies
+wished to harm him they would destroy him, and this was a conclusion
+against which she fought desperately.
+
+The plaza clock boomed ten strokes as they rode into Saguache. Mackenzie
+was waiting for them on the steps of the hotel.
+
+"Have they--has anything been----?"
+
+The owner of the Fiddleback shook his grizzled head. "Not yet. Didn't you
+meet Curly?"
+
+"No."
+
+"He rode out to come in with you, but if he didn't meet you by ten he was
+to come back. You took the north road, I reckon?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+His warm heart was wrung for the young woman whose fine eyes stared with
+dumb agony from a face that looked very white in the shining moonlight. He
+put an arm around her shoulders, and drew her into the hotel with cheerful
+talk.
+
+"Come along, Bob. We're going to tuck away a good supper first off. While
+you're eating, I'll tell you all there is to be told."
+
+Kate opened her lips to say that she was not hungry and could not possibly
+eat a bite, but she thought better of it. Bob had tasted nothing since
+noon, and of course he must be fed.
+
+The lad fell to with an appetite grief had not dulled. His cousin could at
+first only pick at what was set before her. It seemed heartless to be
+sitting down in comfort to so good a supper while her father was in she
+knew not how great distress. Grief swelled in her throat, and forced back
+the food she was trying to eat.
+
+Mackenzie broke off his story to remonstrate. "This won't do at all, Kate.
+If you're going to help find Luck, you've got to keep yourself fit. Now,
+you try this chicken, honey."
+
+"I--just can't, Uncle Mac."
+
+"But you need it."
+
+"I know," the girl confessed, and as she said it broke down again into
+soft weeping.
+
+Mac let her have her cry out, petting her awkwardly. Presently she dried
+her eyes, set at her supper in a businesslike way, heard the story to an
+end quietly, and volunteered one heartbroken comment.
+
+"As if father _could_ do such a thing."
+
+The cattleman agreed eagerly. There were times when he was full of doubt
+on that point, but he was not going to let her know it.
+
+Curly came into the room, and the girl rose to meet him. He took her
+little hand in his tanned, muscular one, and somehow from his grip she
+gathered strength. He would do all that could be done to find her father,
+just as he had done so much to save her brother.
+
+"I'm so glad you've come," she said simply.
+
+"I'm glad you're glad," he smiled cheerfully.
+
+He knew she had been crying, that she was suffering cruelly, but he
+offered her courage rather than maudlin sympathy. Hope seemed to flow
+through her veins at the meeting of the eyes. Whatever a man could do for
+her would be done by Curly.
+
+They talked the situation over together.
+
+"As it looks to me, we've got to find out two things--first, what has
+become of your father, and, second, who did steal that money."
+
+"Now you're talking," Mackenzie agreed. "I always did say you had a good
+head, Curly."
+
+"I don't see it yet, but there's some link between the two things. I mean
+between the robbery and his disappearance."
+
+"How do you mean?" Kate asked.
+
+"We'll say the robbers were his enemies--some of the Soapy Stone outfit
+maybe. They have got him out of the way to satisfy their grudge and to
+make people think he did it. Unfortunately there is evidence that makes it
+look as if he might have done it--what they call corroborating
+testimony."
+
+Billie Mackenzie scratched his gray poll. "Hold on, Curly. This notion of
+a link between the hold-up and Luck's leaving is what the other side is
+tying to. Don't we want to think different from them?"
+
+"We do. They think he is guilty. We know he isn't."
+
+"What does Sheriff Bolt think?"
+
+Curly waved the sheriff aside. "It don't matter what he thinks, Miss Kate.
+He _says_ he thinks Luck was mixed up in the hold-up. Maybe that's what he
+thinks, but we don't want to forget that Cass Fendrick made him sheriff
+and your father fought him to a fare-you-well."
+
+"Then we can't expect any help from him."
+
+"Not much. He ain't a bad fellow, Bolt ain't. He'll be square, but his
+notions are liable to be warped."
+
+"I'd like to talk with him," the young woman announced.
+
+"All right," Mackenzie assented. "To-morrow mo'ning----"
+
+"No, to-night, Uncle Mac."
+
+The cattleman looked at her in surprise. Her voice rang with decision. Her
+slight figure seemed compact of energy and resolution. Was this the girl
+who had been in helpless tears not ten minutes before?
+
+"I'll see if he's at his office. Maybe he'll come up," Curly said.
+
+"No. I'll go down to the courthouse if he's there."
+
+Flandrau got Bolt on the telephone at his room. After a little grumbling
+he consented to meet Miss Cullison at his office.
+
+"Bob, you must go to bed. You're tired out," his cousin told him.
+
+"I ain't, either," he denied indignantly. "Tired nothing. I'm going with
+you."
+
+Curly caught Kate's glance, and she left the boy to him.
+
+"Look here, Bob. We're at the beginning of a big job. Some of us have to
+keep fresh all the time. We'll work in relays. To-night you sleep so as to
+be ready to-morrow."
+
+This way of putting it satisfied the boy. He reluctantly consented to go
+to bed, and was sound asleep almost as soon as his head struck the
+pillow.
+
+At the office of the sheriff, Kate cut to essentials as soon as
+introductions were over.
+
+"Do you think my father robbed the W. & S. Express Company, Mr. Bolt?" she
+asked.
+
+Her plainness embarrassed the officer.
+
+"Let's took at the facts, Miss Cullison," he began amiably. "Then you tell
+me what you would think in my place. Your father needed money mighty bad.
+There's no doubt at all about that. Here's an envelope on which he had
+written a list of his debts. You'll notice they run to just a little more
+than twenty thousand. I found this in his bedroom the day he
+disappeared."
+
+She took the paper, glanced at it mechanically, and looked at the sheriff
+again. "Well? Everybody wants money. Do they all steal it?"
+
+"Turn that envelope over, Miss Cullison. Notice how he has written there
+half a dozen times in a row, '$20,000,' and just below it twice, 'W. & S.
+Ex. Co.' Finally, the one word, 'To-night.'"
+
+She read it all, read it with a heart heavy as lead, and knew that there
+he had left in his own strong, bold handwriting convincing evidence
+against himself. Still, she did not doubt him in the least, but there
+could be no question now that he knew of the intended shipment, that
+absent-mindedly he had jotted down this data while he was thinking about
+it in connection with his own debts.
+
+The sheriff went on tightening the chain of evidence in a voice that for
+all its kindness seemed to her remorseless as fate. "It turns out that Mr.
+Jordan of the Cattleman's National Bank mentioned this shipment to your
+father that morning. Mr. Cullison was trying to raise money from him, but
+he couldn't let him have it. Every bank in the city refused him a loan.
+Yet next morning he paid off two thousand dollars he owed from a poker
+game."
+
+"He must have borrowed the money from some one," she said weakly.
+
+"That money he paid in twenty-dollar bills. The stolen express package was
+in twenties. You know yourself that this is a gold country. Bills ain't so
+plentiful."
+
+The girl's hand went to her heart. Faith in her father was a rock not to
+be washed away by any amount of evidence. What made her wince was the
+amount of circumstantial testimony falling into place so inexorably
+against him.
+
+"Is that all?" she asked despairingly.
+
+"I wish it were, Miss Cullison. But it's not. A man came round the corner
+and shot at the robber as he was escaping. His hat fell off. Here it is."
+
+As Kate took the hat something seemed to tighten around her heart. It
+belonged to her father. His personality was stamped all over it. She even
+recognized a coffee stain on the under side of the brim. There was no need
+of the initials L. C. to tell her whose it had been. A wave of despair
+swept over her. Again she was on the verge of breaking down, but
+controlled herself as with a tight curb.
+
+Bolt's voice went on. "Next day your father disappeared, Miss Cullison. He
+was here in town all morning. His friends knew that suspicion was
+fastening on him. The inference is that he daren't wait to have the truth
+come out. Mind, I don't say he's guilty. But it looks that way. Now,
+that's my case. If you were sheriff in my place, what would you do?"
+
+Her answer flashed back instantly. "If I knew Luck Cullison, I would be
+sure there was a mistake somewhere, and I would look for foul play. I
+would believe anything except that he was guilty--anything in the world.
+You know he has enemies."
+
+The sheriff liked her spirited defense no less because he could not agree
+with her. "Yes, I know that. The trouble is that these incriminating facts
+don't come in the main from his enemies."
+
+"You say the robber had on his hat, and that somebody shot at him. Whoever
+it was must know the man wasn't father."
+
+Gently Bolt took this last prop from her hope. "He is almost sure the man
+was your father."
+
+A spark of steel came into her dark eyes. "Who is the man?"
+
+"His name is Fendrick."
+
+"Cass Fendrick?" She whipped the word at him, leaning forward in her chair
+rigidly with her hands clenched on the arms of it. One could have guessed
+that the sound of the name had unleashed a dormant ferocity in her.
+
+"Yes. I know he and your father aren't friends. They have had some
+trouble. For that reason he was very reluctant to give your father's
+name."
+
+The girl flamed. "Reluctant! Don't you believe it? He hates Father like
+poison." A flash of inspiration came to her. She rose, slim and tall and
+purposeful. "Cass Fendrick is the man you want, and he is the man I want.
+He robbed the express company, and he has killed my father or abducted
+him. I know now. Arrest him to-night."
+
+"I have to have evidence," Bolt said quietly.
+
+"I can give you a motive. Listen. Father expected to prove up yesterday on
+his Del Oro claim. If he had done so Cass Fendrick's sheep would have been
+cut off from the water. Father had to be got out of the way not later than
+Wednesday, or that man would have been put out of business. He was very
+bitter about it. He had made threats."
+
+"It would take more than threats to get rid of the best fighting man in
+Arizona, right in the middle of the day, in the heart of the town, without
+a soul knowing about it." The officer added with a smile: "I'd hate to
+undertake the contract, give me all the help I wanted."
+
+"He was trapped somehow, of course," Curly cut in. For he was sure that in
+no other way could Luck Cullison have been overcome.
+
+"If you'll only tell me how, Flandrau," Bolt returned.
+
+"I don't know how, but we'll find out."
+
+"I hope so."
+
+Kate felt his doubt, and it was like a spark to powder.
+
+"Fendrick is your friend. You were elected by his influence. Perhaps you
+want to prove that Father did this."
+
+"The people elected me, Miss Cullison," answered Bolt, with grave
+reproach. "I haven't any friends or any enemies when it comes to doing
+what I've sworn to do."
+
+"Then you ought to know Father couldn't have done this. There is such a
+thing as character. Luck Cullison simply _couldn't_ be a thief."
+
+Mackenzie's faith had been strengthened by the insistent loyalty of the
+girl. "That's right, Nick. Let me tell you something else. Fendrick knew
+Luck was going to prove up on Thursday. He heard him tell us at the
+Round-Up Club Tuesday morning."
+
+The sheriff summed up. "You've proved Cass had interests that would be
+helped if Mr. Cullison were removed. But you haven't shaken the evidence
+against Luck."
+
+"We've proved Cass Fendrick had to get Father out of the way on the very
+day he disappeared. One day later would have been too late. We've shown
+his enmity. Any evidence that rests on his word is no good. The truth
+isn't in the man."
+
+"Maybe not, but he didn't make this evidence."
+
+Kate had another inspirational flash. "He did--some of it. Somehow he got
+hold of father's hat, and he manufactured a story about shooting it from
+the robber's head. But to make his story stick he must admit he was on the
+ground at the time of the hold-up. So he must have known the robbery was
+going to take place. It's as plain as old Run-A-Mile's wart that he knew
+of it because he planned it himself."
+
+Bolt's shrewd eyes narrowed to a smile. "You prove to me that Cass had
+your father's hat _before the hold-up_, and I'll take some stock in the
+story."
+
+"And in the meantime," suggested Curly.
+
+"I'll keep right on looking for Luck Cullison, but I'll keep an eye on
+Cass Fendrick, too."
+
+Kate took up the challenge confidently. "I'll prove he had the hat--at
+least I'll try to pretty hard. It's the truth, and it must come out
+somehow."
+
+After he had left her at the hotel, Curly walked the streets with a sharp
+excitement tingling his blood. He had lived his life among men, and he
+knew little about women and their ways. But his imagination seized avidly
+upon this slim, dark girl with the fine eyes that could be both tender and
+ferocious, with the look of combined delicacy and strength in every line
+of her.
+
+"Ain't she the gamest little thoroughbred ever?" he chuckled to himself.
+"Stands the acid every crack. Think of her standing pat so game--just like
+she did for me that night out at the ranch. She's the best argument Luck
+has got."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+TWO HATS ON A RACK
+
+
+One casual remark of Mackenzie had given Kate a clew. Even before she had
+explained it, Curly caught the point and began to dig for the truth. For
+though he was almost a boy, the others leaned on him with the expectation
+that in the absence of Maloney he would take the lead. Before they
+separated for the night he made Mackenzie go over every detail he could
+remember of the meeting between Cullison and Fendrick at the Round-Up
+Club. This was the last time the two men had been seen together in public,
+and he felt it important that he should know just what had taken place.
+
+In the morning he and Kate had a talk with his uncle on the same subject.
+Not content with this, he made the whole party adjourn to the club rooms
+so that he might see exactly where Luck had sat and the different places
+the sheepman had stood from the time he entered until the poker players
+left.
+
+Together Billie Mackenzie and Alec Flandrau dramatized the scene for the
+young people. Mac personated the sheepman, came into the room, hung up his
+hat, lounged over to the poker table, said his little piece as well as he
+could remember it, and passed into the next room. Flandrau, Senior, taking
+the role of Cullison, presently got up, lifted his hat from the rack, and
+went to the door.
+
+With excitement trembling in her voice, the girl asked an eager question.
+"Were their hats side by side like that on adjoining pegs?"
+
+Billie turned a puzzled face to his friend. "How about that, Alec?"
+
+"That's how I remember it."
+
+"Same here, my notion is."
+
+"Both gray hats?" Curly cut in.
+
+His uncle looked helplessly at the other man. "Can't be sure of that.
+Luck's was gray all right."
+
+"Cass wore a gray hat too, seems to me," Mackenzie contributed, scratching
+his gray hair.
+
+"Did Father hesitate at all about which one to take?"
+
+"No-o. I don't reckon he did. He had turned to ask me if I was
+coming--wasn't looking at the hats at all."
+
+Curly looked at Kate and nodded. "I reckon we know how Cass got Mr.
+Cullison's hat. It was left on the rack."
+
+"How do you mean?" his uncle asked.
+
+"Don't you see?" the girl explained, her eyes shining with excitement.
+"Father took the wrong hat. You know how absent-minded he is sometimes."
+
+Mackenzie slapped his knee. "I'll bet a stack of blues you've guessed
+it."
+
+"There's a way to make sure," Curly said.
+
+"I don't get you."
+
+"Fendrick couldn't wear Mr. Cullison's hat around without the risk of
+someone remembering it later. What would he do then?"
+
+Kate beamed. "Buy another at the nearest store."
+
+"That would be my guess. And the nearest store is the New York Emporium.
+We've got to find out whether he did buy one there on Tuesday some time
+after nine o'clock in the morning."
+
+The girl's eyes were sparkling. She bustled with businesslike energy.
+"I'll go and ask right away."
+
+"Don't you think we'd better let Uncle Alec find out? He's not so likely
+to stir up curiosity," Curly suggested.
+
+"That's right. Let me earn my board and keep," the owner of the Map of
+Texas volunteered.
+
+Within a quarter of an hour Alec Flandrau joined the others at the hotel.
+He was beaming like a schoolboy who has been given an unexpected holiday.
+
+"You kids are right at the head of the class in the detective game. Cass
+bought a brown hat, about 9:30 in the mo'ning. Paid five dollars for it.
+Wouldn't let them deliver the old one but took it with him in a paper
+sack."
+
+With her lieutenants flanking her Kate went straight to the office of the
+sheriff. Bolt heard the story out and considered it thoughtfully.
+
+"You win, Miss Cullison. You haven't proved Fendrick caused your father's
+disappearance by foul play, and you haven't proved he committed the
+robbery. Point of fact I don't think he did either one. But it certainly
+looks like he may possibly have manufactured evidence."
+
+Curly snorted scornfully. "You're letting your friend down easy, Mr. Bolt.
+By his own story he was on the ground a minute after the robbery took
+place. How do we know he wasn't there a minute before? For if he didn't
+know the hold-up was going to occur why did he bring Mr. Cullison's hat
+with him punctured so neatly with bullet holes?"
+
+"I'll bet a thousand dollars he is at the bottom of this whole thing,"
+Mackenzie added angrily.
+
+The sheriff flushed. "You gentlemen are entitled to your opinions just as
+I'm entitled to mine. You haven't even proved he took Mr. Cullison's hat;
+you've merely showed he may have done it."
+
+"We've given you a motive and some evidence. How much more do you want?"
+Curly demanded.
+
+"Hold your hawses a while, Flandrau, and look at this thing reasonable.
+You're all prejudiced for Cullison and against Fendrick. Talk about
+evidence! There's ten times as much against your friend as there is
+against Cass."
+
+"Then you'll not arrest Fendrick?"
+
+"When you give me good reason to do it," Bolt returned doggedly.
+
+"That's all right, Mr. Sheriff. Now we know where you stand," Flandrau,
+Senior, said stiffly.
+
+The harassed official mopped his face with a bandanna. "Sho! You all make
+me tired. I'm not Fendrick's friend while I'm in this office any more than
+I'm Luck's, But I've got to use my judgment, ain't I?"
+
+The four adjourned to meet at the Del Mar for a discussion of ways and
+means.
+
+"We'll keep a watch on Fendrick--see where he goes, who he talks to, what
+he does. Maybe he'll make a break and give himself away," Curly said
+hopefully.
+
+"But my father--we must rescue him first."
+
+"As soon as we find where he is. Me, I'm right hopeful all's well with
+him. Killing him wouldn't help Cass any, because you and Sam would prove
+up on the claim. But if he could hold your father a prisoner and get him
+to sign a relinquishment to him he would be in a fine position."
+
+"But Father wouldn't sign. He ought to know that."
+
+"Not through fear your father wouldn't. But if Fendrick could get at him
+some way he might put down his John Hancock. With this trouble of Sam
+still unsettled and the Tin Cup hold-up to be pulled off he might sign."
+
+"If we could only have Fendrick arrested--"
+
+"What good would that do? If he's guilty he wouldn't talk. And if he is
+holding your father somewhere in the hills it would only be serving notice
+that we were getting warm. No, I'm for a still hunt. Let Cass ride around
+and meet his partners in this deal. We'll keep an eye on him all right."
+
+"Maybe you're right," Kate admitted with a sigh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+ANONYMOUS LETTERS
+
+
+Sheriff Bolt, though a politician, was an honest man. It troubled him that
+Cullison's friends believed him to be a partisan in a matter of this sort.
+For which reason he met more than half way Curly's overtures. Young
+Flandrau was in the office of the sheriff a good deal, because he wanted
+to be kept informed of any new developments in the W. & S. robbery case.
+
+It was on one of those occasions that Bolt tossed across to him a letter
+he had just opened.
+
+"I've been getting letters from the village cut-up or from some crank, I
+don't know which. Here's a sample."
+
+The envelope, addressed evidently in a disguised hand, contained one sheet
+of paper. Upon this was lettered roughly,
+
+                       "Play the Jack of Hearts."
+
+Flandrau looked up with a suggestion of eagerness in his eyes.
+
+"What do you reckon it means?" he asked.
+
+"Search me. Like as not it don't mean a thing. The others had just as much
+sense as that one."
+
+"Let's see the others."
+
+"I chucked them into the waste paper basket. One came by the morning mail
+yesterday and one by the afternoon. I'm no mind reader, and I've got no
+time to guess fool puzzles."
+
+Curly observed that the waste paper basket was full. Evidently it had not
+been emptied for two or three days.
+
+"Mind if I look for the others?" he asked.
+
+Bolt waved permission. "Go to it."
+
+The young man emptied the basket on the floor and went over its contents
+carefully. He found three communications from the unknown writer. Each of
+them was printed by hand on a sheet of cheap lined paper torn from a
+scratch pad. He smoothed them out and put them side by side on the table.
+This was what he read:
+
+                           HEARTS ARE TRUMPS
+                       WHEN IN DOUBT PLAY TRUMPS
+                           PLAY TRUMPS _NOW_
+
+There was only the one line to each message, and all of them were plainly
+in the same hand. He could make out only one thing, that someone was
+trying to give the sheriff information in a guarded way.
+
+He was still puzzling over the thing when a boy came with a special
+delivery letter for the sheriff. Bolt glanced at it and handed the note to
+Curly.
+
+"Another _billy doo_ from my anxious friend."
+
+This time the sender had been in too much of a hurry to print the words.
+They were written in a stiff hand by some uneducated person.
+
+                       The Jack of Trumps, to-day
+
+"Mind if I keep these?" Curly asked.
+
+"Take 'em along."
+
+Flandrau walked out to the grandstand at the fair grounds and sat down by
+himself there to think out what connection, if any, these singular
+warnings might have with the vanishing of Cullison or the robbery of the
+W. & S. He wasted three precious hours without any result. Dusk was
+falling before he returned.
+
+"Guess I'll take them to my little partner and give her a whack at the
+puzzle," he decided.
+
+Curly strolled back to town along El Molino street and down Main. He had
+just crossed the old Spanish plaza when his absorbed gaze fell on a sign
+that brought him up short. In front of a cigar store stretched across the
+sidewalk a painted picture of a jack of hearts. The same name was on the
+window.
+
+Fifty yards behind him was the Silver Dollar saloon, where Luck Cullison
+had last been seen on his way to the Del Mar one hundred and fifty yards
+in front of him. Somewhere within that distance of two hundred yards the
+owner of the Circle C had vanished from the sight of men. The evidence
+showed he had not reached the hotel, for a cattle buyer had been waiting
+there to talk with him. His testimony, as well as that of the hotel clerk,
+was positive.
+
+Could this little store, the Jack of Hearts, be the central point of the
+mystery? In his search for information Curly had already been in it, had
+bought a cigar, and had stopped to talk with Mrs. Wylie, the proprietor.
+She was a washed-out little woman who had once been pretty. Habitually she
+wore a depressed, hopeless look, the air of pathetic timidity that comes
+to some women who have found life too hard for them. It had been easy to
+alarm her. His first question had evidently set her heart a-flutter, but
+Flandrau had reassured her cheerfully. She had protested with absurd
+earnestness that she had seen nothing of Mr. Cullison. A single glance had
+been enough to dismiss her from any possible suspicion.
+
+Now Curly stepped in a second time. The frightened gaze of Mrs. Wylie
+fastened upon him instantly. He observed that her hand moved instinctively
+to her heart. Beyond question she was in fear. A flash of light clarified
+his mind. She was a conspirator, but an unwilling one. Possibly she might
+be the author of the anonymous warnings sent Bolt.
+
+The young _vaquero_ subscribed for a magazine and paid her the money.
+Tremblingly she filled out the receipt. He glanced at the slip and handed
+it back.
+
+"Just write below the signature 'of the Jack of Hearts,' so that I'll
+remember where I paid the money if the magazine doesn't come," he
+suggested.
+
+She did so, and Curly put the receipt in his pocket carelessly. He
+sauntered leisurely to the hotel, but as soon as he could get into a
+telephone booth his listlessness vanished. Maloney had returned to town
+and he telephoned him to get Mackenzie at once and watch the Jack of
+Hearts in front and rear. Before he left the booth Curly had compared the
+writing of Mrs. Wylie with that on the sheet that had come by special
+delivery. The loop of the J's, the shape of the K's, the formation of the
+capital H in both cases were alike. So too was the general lack of
+character common to both, the peculiar hesitating drag of the letters.
+Beyond question the same person had written both.
+
+Certainly Mrs. Wylie was not warning the sheriff against herself. Then
+against whom? He must know her antecedents, and at once. There was no time
+for him to mole them out himself. Calling up a local detective agency, he
+asked the manager to let him know within an hour or two all that could be
+found out about the woman without alarming her.
+
+"Wait a moment I think we have her on file. Hold the 'phone." The
+detective presently returned. "Yes. We can give you the facts. Will you
+come to the office for them?"
+
+Fifteen minutes later Curly knew that Mrs. Wylie was the divorced wife of
+Lute Blackwell. She had come to Saguache from the mountains several years
+before. Soon after there had been an inconspicuous notice in the
+_Sentinel_ to the effect that Cora Blackwell was suing for divorce from
+Lute Blackwell, then a prisoner in the penitentiary at Yuma. Another news
+item followed a week later stating that the divorce had been granted
+together with the right to use her maiden name. Unobtrusively she had
+started her little store. Her former husband, paroled from the
+penitentiary a few months before the rustling episode, had at intervals
+made of her shop a loafing place since that time.
+
+Curly returned to the Del Mar and sent his name up to Miss Cullison. With
+Kate and Bob there was also in the room Alec Flandrau.
+
+The girl came forward lightly to meet him with the lance-straight poise
+that always seemed to him to express a brave spirit ardent and unafraid.
+
+"Have you heard something?" she asked quickly.
+
+"Yes. Tell me, when did your father last meet Lute Blackwell so far as you
+know?"
+
+"I don't know. Not for years, I think. Why?"
+
+The owner of the Map of Texas answered the question of his nephew. "He met
+him the other day. Let's see. It was right after the big poker game. We
+met him downstairs here. Luck had to straighten out some notions he had
+got."
+
+"How?"
+
+Flandrau, Senior, told the story of what had occurred in the hotel lobby.
+
+"And you say he swore to get even?"
+
+"That's what he said. And he looked like he meant it too."
+
+"What is it? What have you found out?" Kate implored.
+
+The young man told about the letters and Mrs. Wylie.
+
+"We've got to get a move on us," he concluded. "For if Lute Blackwell did
+this thing to your father it's mighty serious for him."
+
+Kate was white to the lips, but in no danger of breaking down. "Yes, if
+this man is in it he would not stop at less than murder. But I don't
+believe it. I know Father is alive. Cass Fendrick is the man we want. I'm
+sure of it."
+
+Curly had before seen women hard as nails, gaunt strong mountaineers as
+tough as hickory withes. But he had never before seen that quality
+dwelling in a slim girlish figure of long soft curves, never seen it in a
+face of dewy freshness that could melt to the tenderest pity. She was like
+flint, and yet she could give herself with a passionate tenderness to
+those she loved. He had seen animals guard their young with that same
+alert eager abandon. His conviction was that she would gladly die for her
+father if it were necessary. As he looked at her with hard unchanging
+eyes, his blood quickened to a fierce joy in her it had known for no other
+woman.
+
+"First thing is to search the Jack of Hearts and see what's there. Are you
+with me, Uncle Alec?"
+
+"I sure am, Curly;" and he reached for his hat.
+
+Bob too was on his feet. "I'm going. You needn't any of you say I ain't,
+for I am."
+
+Curly nodded. "If you'll do as you're told, Bob."
+
+"I will. Cross my heart."
+
+"May I come too?" Kate pleaded.
+
+She was a strongwilled impulsive young woman, and her deference to Curly
+flattered him; but he shook his head none the less.
+
+"No. You may wait in the parlor downstairs and I'll send Bob to you with
+any news. There's just a chance this may be a man's job and we want to go
+to it unhampered." He turned at the door with his warm smile. "By the way,
+I've got some news I forgot. I know where your father got the money to pay
+his poker debts. Mr. Jordan of the Cattlemen's National made him a
+personal loan. He figured it would not hurt the bank because the three men
+Luck paid it to would deposit it with the bank again."
+
+"By George, that's what we did, too, every last one of us," his uncle
+admitted.
+
+"Every little helps," Kate said; and her little double nod thanked Curly.
+
+The young man stopped a moment after the others had gone. "I'm not going
+to let Bob get into danger," he promised.
+
+"I knew you wouldn't," was her confident answer.
+
+At the corner of the plaza Curly gave Bob instructions.
+
+"You stay here and keep an eye on everyone that passes. Don't try to stop
+anybody. Just size them up."
+
+"Ain't I to go with you? I got a gun."
+
+"You're to do as I say. What kind of a soldier would you make if you can't
+obey orders? I'm running this. If you don't like it trot along home."
+
+"Oh, I'll stay," agreed the crestfallen youth.
+
+Maloney met them in front of the Jack of Hearts.
+
+"Dick, you go with me inside. Uncle Alec, will you keep guard outside?"
+
+"No, bub, I won't. I knew Luck before you were walking bowlegged," the old
+cattleman answered brusquely.
+
+Curly grinned. "All right. Don't blame me if you get shot up."
+
+Mrs. Wylie's startled eyes told tales when she saw the three men. Her face
+was ashen.
+
+"I'm here to play trumps, Mrs. Wylie. What secret has the Jack of Hearts
+got hidden from us?" young Flandrau demanded, his hard eyes fastened to
+her timorous ones.
+
+"I--I--I don't know what you mean."
+
+"No use. We're here for business. Dick, you stay with her. Don't let her
+leave or shout a warning."
+
+He passed into the back room, which was a kind of combination living room,
+kitchen and bedroom. A door led from the rear into a back yard littered
+with empty packing cases, garbage cans and waste paper. After taking a
+look around the yard he locked the back door noiselessly. There was no
+other apparent exit from the kitchen-bedroom except the one by which he
+and his uncle had entered from the shop. But he knew the place must have a
+cellar, and his inspection of the yard had showed no entrance there. He
+drew back the Navajo rug that covered the floor and found one of the
+old-fashioned trap doors some cheap houses have. Into this was fitted an
+iron ring with which to lift it.
+
+From the darkness below came no sound, but Curly's imagination conceived
+the place as full of shining eyes glaring up at him. Any bad men down
+there already had the drop on them. Therefore neither Curly nor his uncle
+made the mistake of drawing a weapon.
+
+"I'm coming down, boys," young Flandrau announced in a quiet confident
+voice. "The place is surrounded by our friends and it won't do you a whole
+lot of good to shoot me up. I'd advise you not to be too impulsive"
+
+He descended the steps, his face like a stone wall for all the emotion it
+recorded. At his heels came the older man. Curly struck a match, found an
+electric bulb above his head, and turned the button. Instantly the
+darkness was driven from the cellar.
+
+The two Flandraus were quite alone in the room. For furniture there was a
+table, a cot which had been slept in and not made up, and a couple of
+rough chairs. The place had no windows, no means of ventilation except
+through the trap door. Yet there were evidences to show that it had
+recently been inhabited. Half smoked cigars littered the floor. A pack of
+cards lay in disorder on the table. The _Sentinel_ with date line of that
+day lay tossed in a corner.
+
+The room told Curly this at least: There had been a prisoner here with a
+guard or guards. Judging by the newspaper they had been here within a few
+hours. The time of sending the special delivery letter made this the more
+probable. He had missed the men he wanted by a very little time. If he had
+had the gumption to understand the hints given by the letters Cullison
+might now be eating supper with his family at the hotel.
+
+"Make anything out of it?" the older Flandrau asked.
+
+"He's been here, but they've taken him away. Will you cover the
+telephoning? Have all the ranches notified that Luck is being taken into
+the hills so they can picket the trails."
+
+"How do you know he is being taken there?"
+
+"I don't know. I guess. Blackwell is in it. He knows every nook of the
+hills. The party left here not two hours since, looks like."
+
+Curly put the newspaper in his pocket and led the Way back to the store.
+
+"The birds have flown, Dick, Made their getaway through the alley late
+this afternoon, probably just after it got dark." He turned to the woman.
+"Mrs. Wylie, murder is going to be done, I shouldn't wonder. And you're
+liable to be held guilty of it unless you tell us all you know."
+
+She began to weep, helplessly, but with a sort of stubbornness too.
+Frightened she certainly was, but some greater fear held her silent as to
+the secret. "I don't know anything about it," she repeated over and over.
+
+"Won't do. You've got to speak. A man's life hangs on it."
+
+But his resolution could not break hers, incomparably stronger than she
+though he was. Her conscience had driven her to send veiled warnings to
+the sheriff. But for very fear of her life she dared not commit herself
+openly.
+
+Maloney had an inspiration. He spoke in a low voice to Curly. "Let's take
+her to the hotel. Miss Kate will know how to get it out of her better than
+we can."
+
+Mrs. Wylie went with them quietly enough. She was shaken with fears but
+still resolute not to speak. They might send her to prison. She would tell
+them nothing--nothing at all. For someone who had made terror the habit of
+her life had put the fear of death into her soul.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A MESSAGE IN CIPHER
+
+
+While Kate listened to what Curly had to tell her the dark eyes of the
+girl were fastened upon the trembling little woman standing near the
+door.
+
+"Do you mean that she is going to let my father be killed rather than tell
+what she knows?" Her voice was sharply incredulous, touched with a horror
+scarcely realized.
+
+"So she says."
+
+Mrs. Wylie wrung her hands in agitation. Her lined face was a mirror of
+distress.
+
+"But that's impossible. She must tell. What has Father ever done to hurt
+her?"
+
+"I--I don't know anything about it," the harassed woman iterated.
+
+"What's the use of saying that when we know you do? And you'll not get out
+of it by sobbing. You've _got_ to talk."
+
+Kate had not moved. None the less her force, the upblaze of feminine
+energy in her, crowded the little storekeeper to the wall. "You've got to
+tell--you've just got to," she insisted.
+
+The little woman shrank before the energy of a passion so vital. No
+strength was in her to fight. But she could and did offer the passive
+resistance of obstinate silence.
+
+Curly had drawn from his pocket the newspaper found in the cellar. His
+eyes had searched for the date line to use as cumulative evidence, but
+they had remained fastened to one story. Now he spoke imperatively.
+
+"Come here, Miss Kate."
+
+She was beside him in an instant. "What is it?"
+
+"I'm not sure yet, but---- Look here. I believe this is a message to us."
+
+"A message?"
+
+"From your father perhaps."
+
+"How could it be?"
+
+"I found the paper in the cellar where he was. See how some of these words
+are scored. Done with a finger nail, looks like."
+
+"But how could he know we would see the paper, and if we did see it would
+understand?"
+
+"He couldn't. It would be one chance in a million, but all his life he's
+been taking chances. This couldn't do any harm."
+
+Her dark head bent beside his fair one with the crisp sun-reddened curls.
+
+"I don't see any message. Where is it?"
+
+"I don't see it myself--not much of it. Gimme time."
+
+This was the paragraph upon which his gaze had fastened, and the words and
+letters were scored sharply as shown below, though in the case of single
+letters the mark ran through them instead of underneath, evidently that no
+mistake might be made as to which was meant.
+
+  J. P. Kelley of the ranger force reports
+
+  over the telephone that by unexpected good
+
+  luck he has succeeded in taking prisoner
+  ----                            --------
+  the notorious Jack Foster of Hermosilla
+                ----        -- --       -
+  and the Rincons notoriety and is now
+          -         -            - ---
+  bringing him to Saguache where he will be
+                  --------
+  locked up pending a disposition of his case.
+  -------------------------------------------
+  Kelley succeeded in surprising him while
+         ---------------------------
+  he was eating dinner at a Mexican road-house
+
+  just this side of the border.
+
+"Do you make it out?" Maloney asked, looking over their shoulders.
+
+Curly took a pencil and an envelope from his pocket. On the latter he
+jotted down some words and handed the paper to his friend. This was what
+Maloney read:
+
+  ........................................
+  ..........................................
+  luck............................prisoner
+  the notorious Jack Foster of Hermosilla
+  ..............Jack........of.He.......a
+  ........R.........t............s.now
+  ................Saguache.................
+  locked up pending a disposition of his case.
+  .......succeeded in surprising him......
+  ............................................
+  .............................
+
+"Read that right ahead."
+
+Dick did not quite get the idea, but Kate, tense with excitement, took the
+envelope and read aloud.
+
+"Luck----prisoner----Jack of Hearts----now Saguache----locked up pending a
+disposition of his case----succeeded in surprising him." She looked up
+with shining eyes. "He tells us everything but the names of the people who
+did it. Perhaps somewhere else in the paper he may tell that too."
+
+But though they went over it word for word they found no more. Either he
+had been interrupted, or he had been afraid that his casual thumb nail
+pressures might arouse the suspicion of his guards if persisted in too
+long.
+
+"He's alive somewhere. We'll save him now." Kate cried it softly, all warm
+with the joy of it.
+
+"Seems to let our friend Fendrick out," Maloney mused.
+
+"Lets him out of kidnapping Uncle Luck but maybe not out of the robbery,"
+Bob amended.
+
+"Doesn't let him out of either. Somebody was in this with Blackwell. If it
+wasn't Cass Fendrick then who was it?" Kate wanted to know.
+
+"Might have been Soapy Stone," Dick guessed.
+
+"Might have been, but now Sam has gone back into the hills to join Soapy;
+the gang would have to keep it from Sam. He wouldn't stand for it."
+
+"No, not for a minute," Kate said decisively.
+
+Curly spoke to her in a low voice. "You have a talk with Mrs. Wylie alone.
+We'll pull our freights. She'll tell you what she knows." He smiled in his
+gentle winning way. "She's sure had a tough time of it if ever a woman
+had. I reckon a little kindness is what she needs. Let her see we're her
+friends and will stand by her, that we won't let her come to harm because
+she talks. Show her we know everything anyhow but want her to corroborate
+details."
+
+It was an hour before Kate joined them, and her eyes, though they were
+very bright, told tales, of tears that had been shed.
+
+"That poor woman! She has told me everything. Father has been down in that
+cellar for days under a guard. They took him away to-night. She doesn't
+know where. It was she sent the warnings to Sheriff Bolt. She wanted him
+to raid the place, but she dared not go to him."
+
+"Because of Blackwell?"
+
+"Yes. He came straight to her as soon as he was freed from the
+penitentiary. He had her completely terrorized. It seems she has been
+afraid to draw a deep breath ever since he returned. Even while he was in
+the hills she was always looking for him to come. The man used to keep her
+in a hell and he began bullying her again. So she gave him money, and he
+came for more--and more."
+
+Curly nodded. He said nothing, but his strong jaw clamped.
+
+"He was there that day," the girl continued. "She plucked up courage to
+refuse him what little she had left because she needed it for the rent. He
+got hold of her arm and twisted it. Father heard her cry and came in.
+Blackwell was behind the door as it opened. He struck with a loaded cane
+and Father fell unconscious. He raised it to strike again, but she clung
+to his arm and called for help. Before he could shake her off another man
+came in. He wrenched the club away."
+
+"Fendrick?" breathed Curly.
+
+"She doesn't know. But the first thing he did was to lock the outer door
+and take the key. They carried Father down into the cellar. Before he came
+to himself his hands were tied behind his back."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"They watched him day and night. Fendrick himself did not go near the
+place--if it was Fendrick. Blackwell swore to kill Mrs. Wylie if she told.
+They held him there till to-night. She thinks they were trying to get
+Father to sign some paper."
+
+"The relinquishment of course. That means the other man was Fendrick."
+
+Kate nodded. "Yes."
+
+Curly rose. The muscles stood out in his jaw; hard as steel ropes.
+
+"We'll rake the Rincons with a fine tooth comb. Don't you worry. I've
+already wired for Bucky O'Connor to come and help. We'll get your Father
+out of the hands of those hell hounds. Won't we, Dick?"
+
+The girl's eyes admired him, a lean hard-bitten Westerner with eyes as
+unblinking as an Arizona sun and with muscles like wire springs. His face
+still held its boyishness, but it had lost forever the irresponsibility of
+a few months before. She saw in him an iron will, shrewdness, courage and
+resource. All of these his friend Maloney also had. But Curly was the
+prodigal son, the sinner who had repented. His engaging recklessness lent
+him a charm from which she could not escape. Out of ten thousand men there
+were none whose voice drummed on her heart strings as did that of this
+youth.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+"THE FRIENDS OF L. C. SERVE NOTICE"
+
+
+Two men sat in a log cabin on opposite sides of a cheap table. One of them
+was immersed in a newspaper. His body was relaxed, his mind apparently at
+ease. The other watched him malevolently. His fingers caressed the handle
+of a revolver that protruded from the holster at his side. He would have
+liked nothing better than to have drawn it and sent a bullet crashing into
+the unperturbed brain of his prisoner.
+
+There were reasons of policy why it were better to curb this fascinating
+desire, but sometimes the impulse to kill surged up almost uncontrollably.
+On these occasions Luck Cullison was usually "deviling" him, the only
+diversion that had been open to the ranchman for some days past. Because
+of its danger--for he could never be quite sure that Blackwell's lust for
+swift vengeance would not over-power discretion--this pastime made a
+peculiar appeal to the audacious temper of the owner of the Circle C.
+
+From time to time as Luck read he commented genially on the news.
+
+"I see Tucson is going to get the El Paso & Southwestern extension after
+all. I'll bet the boys in that burg will be right tickled to hear it. They
+sure have worked steady for it."
+
+Blackwell merely scowled. He never relaxed to the give and take of casual
+talk with his captive. Given his way, Cullison would not be here to read
+the _Sentinel_. But the brains of the conspiracy had ruled otherwise and
+had insisted too upon decent treatment. With one ankle securely tied to a
+leg of the table there was no danger in freeing the hands of the
+cattleman, but his hosts saw that never for an instant were hands and feet
+at liberty together. For this man was not the one with whom to take
+chances.
+
+"Rudd has been convicted of forgery and taken to Yuma. Seems to me you
+used to live there, didn't you?" asked the cattleman with cool insolence,
+looking up from his paper to smile across at the furious convict.
+
+Blackwell was livid. The man who had sent him to the territorial prison at
+Yuma dared to sit there bound and unarmed and taunt him with it.
+
+"Take care," he advised hoarsely.
+
+Cullison laughed and went back to the paper.
+
+"'Lieutenant O'Connor of the Arizona Rangers left town to-day for a short
+trip into the hills where he expects to spend a few days hunting.' Hunting
+what, do you reckon? Or hunting who, I should say. Ever meet Bucky
+O'Connor, Blackwell? No, I reckon not. He's since your time. A crackerjack
+too! Wonder if Bucky ain't after some friends of mine."
+
+"Shut up," growled the other.
+
+"Sure you'll be shut up--when Bucky lands you," retorted Luck cheerfully.
+Then, with a sudden whoop: "Hello, here's a personal to your address.
+Fine! They're getting ready to round you up, my friend. Listen. 'The
+friends of L. C. serve notice that what occurred at the Jack of Hearts is
+known. Any violence hereafter done to him will be paid for to the limit.
+No guilty man will escape.' So the boys are getting busy. I figured they
+would be. Looks like your chance of knocking me on the head has gone down
+Salt River. I tell you nowadays a man has to grab an opportunity by the
+tail when it's there."
+
+The former convict leaned forward angrily. "Lemme see that paper."
+
+His guest handed it over, an index finger pointing out the item. "Large as
+life, Blackwell. No, sir. You ce'tainly didn't ride herd proper on that
+opportunity."
+
+"Don't be too sure it's gone, Mr. Sheriff."
+
+The man's face was twisted to an ugly sneer back of which lurked cruel
+menace. The gray eyes of Cullison did not waver a hair's breadth.
+
+"It's gone. I'm as safe as if I were at the Circle C."
+
+"Don't you think it."
+
+"They've got you dead to rights. Read that personal again. Learn it by
+heart. 'The friends of L. C. give warning.' You better believe they're
+rounding up your outfit. They know I'm alive. They know all about the Jack
+of Hearts. Pretty soon they'll know where you've got me hidden."
+
+"You'd better pray they won't. For if they find the nest it will be
+empty."
+
+"Yes?" Luck spoke with ironical carelessness, but he shot an alert keen
+glance at the other.
+
+"That's what I said. Want to know where you will be?" the other
+triumphed.
+
+"I see you want to tell me. Unload your mind."
+
+Triumph overrode discretion. "Look out of that window behind you."
+
+Luck turned. The cabin was built on a ledge far up on the mountain side.
+From the back wall sloped for a hundred feet an almost perpendicular slide
+of rock.
+
+"There's a prospect hole down there," Blackwell explained savagely. "You'd
+go down the Devil's Slide--what's left of you, I mean--deep into that
+prospect hole. The timberings are rotted and the whole top of the working
+ready to cave in. When your body hits it there will be an avalanche--with
+Mr. Former-sheriff Cullison at the bottom of it. You'll be buried without
+any funeral expenses, and I reckon your friends will never know where to
+put the headstone."
+
+The thing was devilishly simple and feasible. Luck, still looking out of
+the window, felt the blood run cold down his spine, for he knew this
+fellow would never stick at murder if he felt it would be safe. No doubt
+he was being well paid, and though in this workaday world revenge has gone
+out of fashion there was no denying that this ruffian would enjoy evening
+the score. But his confederate was of another stripe, a human being with
+normal passions and instincts. The cattleman wondered how he could
+reconcile it to his conscience to go into so vile a plot with a villain
+like the convict.
+
+"So you see I'm right; you'd better pray your friends _won't_ find you.
+They can't reach here without being heard. If they get to hunting these
+hills you sure want to hope they'll stay cold, for just as soon as they
+get warm it will be the signal for you to shoot the chutes."
+
+Luck met his triumphant savagery with an impassive face. "Interesting if
+true. And where will you be when my friends arrive. I reckon it won't be a
+pleasant meeting for Mr. Blackwell."
+
+"I'll be headed for Mexico. I tell you because you ain't liable to go
+around spreading the news. There's a horse saddled in the dip back of the
+hill crest. Get it?"
+
+"Fine," Cullison came back. "And you'll ride right into some of Bucky
+O'Connor's rangers. He's got the border patroled. You'd never make it."
+
+"Don't worry. I'd slip through. I'm no tenderfoot."
+
+"What if you did? Bucky would drag you back by the scruff of the neck in
+two weeks. Remember Chavez."
+
+He referred to a murderer whom the lieutenant of rangers had captured and
+brought back to be hanged later.
+
+"Chavez was a fool."
+
+"Was he? You don't get the point. The old days are gone. Law is in the
+saddle. Murder is no longer a pleasant pastime." And Cullison stretched
+his arms and yawned.
+
+From far below there came through the open window the faint click of a
+horse's hoofs ringing against the stones in the dry bed of a river wash.
+Swiftly Blackwell moved to the door, taking down a rifle from its rack as
+he did so. Cullison rose noiselessly in his chair. If it came to the worst
+he meant to shout aloud his presence and close with this fellow. Hampered
+as he was by the table, the man would get him without question. But if he
+could only sink his fingers into that hairy throat while there was still
+life in him he could promise that the Mexican trip would never take
+place.
+
+Blackwell, from his place by the door, could keep an eye both on his
+prisoner and on a point of the trail far below where horsemen must pass to
+reach the cabin.
+
+"Sit down," he ordered.
+
+Cullison's eyes were like finely-tempered steel. "I'd rather stand."
+
+"By God, if you move from there----" The man did not finish his sentence,
+but the rifle was already half lifted. More words would have been
+superfluous.
+
+A rider came into sight and entered the mouth of the cañon. He was waving
+a white handkerchief. The man in the doorway answered the signal.
+
+"Not your friends this time, Mr. Sheriff," Blackwell jeered.
+
+"I get a stay of execution, do I?" The cool drawling voice of the
+cattleman showed nothing of the tense feeling within.
+
+He resumed his seat and the reading of the newspaper. Presently, to the
+man that came over the threshold he spoke with a casual nod.
+
+"Morning, Cass."
+
+Fendrick mumbled a surly answer. The manner of ironical comradeship his
+captive chose to employ was more than an annoyance. To serve his ends it
+was necessary to put the fear of death into this man's heart, which was a
+thing he had found impossible to do. His foe would deride him, joke with
+him, discuss politics with him, play cards with him, do anything but fear
+him. In the meantime the logic of circumstances was driving the sheepman
+into a corner. He had on impulse made the owner of the Circle C his
+prisoner. Seeing him lie there unconscious on the floor of the Jack of
+Hearts, it had come to him in a flash that he might hold him and force a
+relinquishment of the Del Oro claim. His disappearance would explain
+itself if the rumor spread that he was the W. & S. express robber. Cass
+had done it to save himself from the ruin of his business, but already he
+had regretted it fifty times. Threats could not move Luck in the least. He
+was as hard as iron.
+
+So the sheepman found himself between the upper and the nether millstones.
+He could not drive his prisoner to terms and he dared not release him. For
+if Cullison went away unpledged he would surely send him to the
+penitentiary. Nor could he hold him a prisoner indefinitely. He had seen
+the "personal" warning in both the morning and the afternoon papers. He
+guessed that the presence of the ranger Bucky O'Connor in Saguache was not
+a chance. The law was closing in on him. Somehow Cullison must be made to
+come through with a relinquishment and a pledge not to prosecute. The only
+other way out would be to let Blackwell wreak his hate on the former
+sheriff. From this he shrank with every instinct. Fendrick was a hard man.
+He would have fought it out to a finish if necessary. But murder was a
+thing he could not do.
+
+He had never discussed the matter with Blackwell. The latter had told him
+of this retreat in the mountains and they had brought their prisoner here.
+But the existence of the prospect hole at the foot of the Devil's Slide
+was unknown to him. From the convict's revenge he had hitherto saved Luck.
+Blackwell was his tool rather than his confederate, but he was uneasily
+aware that if the man yielded to the elemental desire to kill his enemy
+the law, would hold him, Cass Fendrick, guilty of the crime.
+
+"Price of sheep good this week?" Cullison asked amiably.
+
+"I didn't come here to discuss the price of sheep with you." Fendrick
+spoke harshly. A dull anger against the scheme of things burned in him.
+For somehow he had reached an _impasse_ from which there was neither
+advance nor retreat.
+
+"No. Well, you're right there. What I don't know about sheep would fill
+several government reports. Of course I've got ideas. One of them is----"
+
+"I don't care anything about your ideas. Are you going to sign this
+relinquishment?"
+
+Luck's face showed a placid surprise. "Why no, Cass. Thought I mentioned
+that before."
+
+"You'd better." The sheepman's harassed face looked ugly enough for
+anything.
+
+"Can't figure it out that way."
+
+"You've got to sign it. By God, you've no option."
+
+"No?" Still with pleasant incredulity.
+
+"Think I'm going to let you get away from here now. You'll sign and you'll
+promise to tell nothing you know against us."
+
+"No, I don't reckon I will."
+
+Cullison was looking straight at him with his fearless level gaze.
+Fendrick realized with a sinking heart that he could not drive him that
+way to surrender. He knew that in the other man's place he would have
+given way, that his enemy was gamer than he was.
+
+He threw up his hand in a sullen gesture that disclaimed responsibility.
+"All right. It's on your own head. I've done all I can for you."
+
+"What's on my head?"
+
+"Your life. Damn you, don't you see you're driving me too far?"
+
+"How far?"
+
+"I'm not going to let you get away to send us to prison. What do you
+expect?"
+
+Luck's frosty eyes did not release the other for a moment. "How are you
+going to prevent it, Cass?"
+
+"I'll find a way."
+
+"Blackwell's way--the Devil's Slide?"
+
+The puzzled look of the sheepman told Cullison that Blackwell's plan of
+exit for him had not been submitted to the other.
+
+"Your friend from Yuma has been explaining how he has arranged for me to
+cross the divide," he went on. "I'm to be plugged full of lead, shot down
+that rock, and landed in a prospect hole at the bottom."
+
+"First I've heard of it." Fendrick wheeled upon his accomplice with angry
+eyes. He was in general a dominant man, and not one who would stand much
+initiative from his assistants.
+
+"He's always deviling me," complained the convict surlily. Then, with a
+flash of anger: "But I stand pat. He'll get his before I take chances of
+getting caught. I'm nobody's fool."
+
+Cass snapped him up. "You'll do as I say. You'll not lift a finger against
+him unless he tries to escape."
+
+"Have you seen the _Sentinel_? I tell you his friends know everything.
+Someone's peached. They're hot on our trail. Bucky O'Connor is in the
+hills. Think I'm going to be caught like a rat in a trap?"
+
+"We'll talk of that later. Now you go look after my horse while I keep
+guard here."
+
+Blackwell went, protesting that he was no "nigger" to be ordered about on
+errands. As soon, as he was out of hearing Fendrick turned his thin
+lip-smile on the prisoner.
+
+"It's up to you, Cullison. I saved your life once. I'm protecting you now.
+But if your friends show up he'll do as he says. I won't be here to stop
+him. Sign up and don't be a fool."
+
+Luck's answer came easily and lightly. "My friend, we've already discussed
+that point."
+
+"You won't change your mind?"
+
+"Your arguments don't justify it, Cass."
+
+The sheepman looked at him with a sinister significance. "Good enough.
+I'll bring you one that will justify it _muy pronto_."
+
+"It will have to be a mighty powerful one. Sorry I can't oblige you and
+your friend, the convict."
+
+"It'll be powerful enough." Fendrick went to the door and called
+Blackwell. "Bring back that horse. I'm going down to the valley."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+CASS FENDRICK MAKES A CALL
+
+
+Kate was in her rose garden superintending the stable boy as he loosened
+the dirt around the roots of some of the bushes. She had returned to the
+Circle C for a day or two to give some directions in the absence of her
+father. Buck and the other riders came to her for orders and took them
+without contempt. She knew the cattle business, and they knew she knew it.
+To a man they were proud of her, of her spirit, her energy, and her good
+looks.
+
+This rose garden was one evidence of her enterprise. No ranch in the
+county could show such a riot of bloom as the Circle C. The American
+Beauty, the Duchess, the La France bowed gracefully to neighbors of a
+dozen other choice varieties. Kate had brought this glimpse of Eden into
+the desert. She knew her catalogues by heart and she had the loving
+instinct that teaches all gardeners much about growing things.
+
+The rider who cantered up to the fence, seeing her in her well-hung
+corduroy skirt, her close-fitting blouse, and the broad-rimmed straw hat
+that shielded her dark head from the sun, appreciated the fitness of her
+surroundings. She too was a flower of the desert, delicately fashioned,
+yet vital with the bloom of health.
+
+At the clatter of hoofs she looked up from the bush she was trimming and
+at once rose to her feet. With the change in position she showed slim and
+tall, straight as a young poplar. Beneath their long lashes her eyes grew
+dark and hard. For the man who had drawn to a halt was Cass Fendrick.
+
+From the pocket of his shirt he drew a crumpled piece of stained linen.
+
+"I've brought back your handkerchief, Miss Cullison."
+
+"What have you done with my father?"
+
+He nodded toward the Mexican boy and Kate dismissed the lad. When he had
+gone she asked her question again in exactly the same words.
+
+"If we're going to discuss your father you had better get your quirt
+again," the sheepman suggested, touching a scar on his face.
+
+A flush swept over her cheeks, but she held her voice quiet and even.
+"Where is Father? What have you done with him?"
+
+He swung from the horse and threw the rein to the ground. Then, sauntering
+to the gate, he let himself in.
+
+"You've surely got a nice posy garden here. Didn't know there was one like
+it in all sunbaked Arizona."
+
+She stood rigid. Her unfaltering eyes, sloe-black in the pale face, never
+lifted from him.
+
+"There's only one thing you can talk to me about Where have you hidden my
+father?"
+
+"I've heard folks say he did himself all the hiding that was done."
+
+"You know that isn't true. That convict and you have hidden him somewhere.
+We have evidence enough to convict you both."
+
+"Imagination, most of it, I expect." He was inspecting the roses and
+inhaling their bloom.
+
+"Fact enough to send you to the penitentiary."
+
+"I ought to be scared. This is a La France, ain't it?"
+
+"I want you to tell me what you have done with my father."
+
+He laughed a little and looked at her with eyes that narrowed like those
+of a cat basking in the sun. He had something the look of the larger
+members of the cat family--the soft long tread, the compact rippling
+muscles of a tame panther, and with these the threat that always lies
+behind its sleepy wariness.
+
+"You're a young lady of one idea. No use arguing with you, I reckon."
+
+"Not the least use. I've talked with Mrs. Wylie."
+
+He raised his eyebrows. "Do I know the lady?"
+
+"She will know you. That is more to the point."
+
+"Did she say she knew me?" he purred.
+
+"She will say it in court--if it ever comes to that."
+
+"Just what will she say, if you please."
+
+Kate told him in four sentences with a stinging directness that was the
+outstanding note of her, that and a fine self-forgetful courage.
+
+"Is that all? Comes to this then, that she says I heard her scream, ran
+in, and saved your father's life. Is that a penitentiary offense? I don't
+say it oughtn't to be, but is it?"
+
+"You helped the villain take his body into the cellar. You plotted with
+him to hold Father a prisoner there."
+
+"Says that, does she--that she overheard us plotting?"
+
+"Of course she did not overhear what you said. You took good care of that.
+But she knew you were conspiring."
+
+"Just naturally knew it without overhearing," he derided. "And of course
+if I was in a plot I must have been Johnny-on-the-spot a good deal of the
+time. Hung round there a-plenty, I expect?"
+
+He had touched on the weak spot of Mrs. Wylie's testimony. The man who had
+saved Cullison's life, after a long talk with Blackwell, had gone out of
+the Jack of Hearts and had not returned so far as she knew. For her former
+husband had sent her on an errand just before the prisoner was taken away
+and she did not know who had helped him.
+
+Kate was silent.
+
+"How would this do for an explanation?" he suggested lazily. "We'll say
+just for the sake of argument that Mrs. Wylie's story is true, that I did
+save your father's life. We'll put it that I did help carry him downstairs
+where it was cooler and that I did have a long talk with the fellow
+Blackwell. What would I be talking to him about, if I wasn't reading the
+riot act to him? Ain't it likely too that he would be sorry for what he
+did while he was angry at your father for butting in as he was having
+trouble with his wife? And after he had said he was sorry why shouldn't I
+hit the road out of there? There's no love lost between me and Luck
+Cullison. I wasn't under any obligations to wrap him up in cotton and
+bring him back this side up with care to his anxious friends. If he chose
+later to take a hike out of town on p.d.q. hurry up business I ain't to
+blame. And I reckon you'll find a jury will agree with me."
+
+She had to admit to herself that he made out a plausible case. Not that
+she believed it for a moment. But very likely a jury would. As for his
+subsequent silence that could be explained by his desire not to mix
+himself in the affairs of one with whom he was upon unfriendly terms. The
+irrefutable fact that he had saved the life of Cullison would go a long
+way as presumptive proof of his innocence.
+
+"I see you are wearing your gray hat again? What have you done with the
+brown one?"
+
+She had flashed the question at him so unexpectedly that he was startled,
+but the wary mask fell again over the sardonic face.
+
+"You take a right friendly interest in my hats, seems to me."
+
+"I know this much. Father took your hat by mistake from the club. You
+bought a brown one half an hour later. You used Father's to manufacture
+evidence against him. If it isn't true that he is your prisoner how does
+it come that you have your gray hat again? You must have taken it from
+him."
+
+He laughed uneasily. She had guessed the exact truth.
+
+"In Arizona there are about forty thousand gray hats like this. Do you
+figure you can identify this one, Miss Cullison? And suppose your fairy
+tale of the Jack of Hearts is true, couldn't I have swapped hats again
+while he lay there unconscious?"
+
+She brushed his explanation aside with a woman's superb indifference to
+logic.
+
+"You can talk of course. I don't care. It is all lies--lies. You have
+kidnapped Father and are holding him somewhere. Don't you dare to hurt
+him. If you should--Oh, if you should--you will wish you had never been
+born." The fierceness of her passion beat upon him like sudden summer
+hail.
+
+He laughed slowly, well pleased. A lazy smoldering admiration shone in his
+half shuttered eyes.
+
+"So you're going to take it out of me, are you?"
+
+A creature of moods, there came over her now a swift change. Every feature
+of her, the tense pose, the manner of defiant courage, softened
+indescribably. She was no longer an enemy bent on his destruction but a
+girl pleading for the father she loved.
+
+"Why do you do it? You are a man. You want to fight fair. Tell me he is
+well. Tell me you will set him free."
+
+He forgot for the moment that he was a man with the toils of the law
+closing upon him, forgot that his success and even his liberty were at
+stake. He saw only a girl with the hunger of love in her wistful eyes, and
+knew that it lay in his power to bring back the laughter and the light
+into them.
+
+"Suppose I can't fight fair any longer. Suppose I've let myself get
+trapped and it isn't up to me but to somebody else."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Up to your father, say."
+
+"My father?"
+
+"Yes. How could I turn him loose when the first thing he did would be to
+swear out a warrant for my arrest?"
+
+"But he wouldn't--not if you freed him."
+
+He laughed harshly. "I thought you knew him. He's hard as nails."
+
+She recognized the justice of this appraisal. "But he is generous too. He
+stands by his friends."
+
+"I'm not his friend, not so you could notice it." He laughed again,
+bitterly. "Not that it matters. Of course I was just putting a case.
+Nothing to it really."
+
+He was hedging because he thought he had gone too far, but she appeared
+not to notice it. Her eyes had the faraway look of one who communes with
+herself.
+
+"If I could only see him and have a talk with him."
+
+"What good would that do?" he pretended to scoff.
+
+But he watched her closely nevertheless.
+
+"I think I could get him to do as I ask. He nearly always does." Her gaze
+went swiftly back to him. "Let me talk with him. There's a reason why he
+ought to be free now, one that would appeal to him."
+
+This was what he had come for, but now that she had met him half way he
+hesitated. If she should not succeed he would be worse off than before. He
+could neither hold her a prisoner nor free her to lead the pack of the law
+to his hiding place. On the other hand if Cullison thought they intended
+to keep her prisoner he would have to compromise. He dared not leave her
+in the hands of Lute Blackwell. Fendrick decided to take a chance. At the
+worst he could turn them both free and leave for Sonora.
+
+"All right. I'll take you to him. But you'll have to do as I say."
+
+"Yes," she agreed.
+
+"I'm taking you to back my play. I tell you straight that Blackwell would
+like nothing better than to put a bullet through your father. But I've got
+a hold on the fellow that ties him. He's got to do as I say. But if I'm
+not there and it comes to a showdown--if Bucky O'Connor for instance
+happens to stumble in--then it's all off with Luck Cullison. Blackwell
+won't hesitate a second. He'll kill your father and make a bolt for it.
+That's one reason why I'm taking you. I want to pile up witnesses against
+the fellow so as to make him go slow. But that's not my main object.
+You've got to persuade Luck to come through with an agreement to let go of
+that Del Oro homestead and to promise not to prosecute us. He won't do it
+to save his own life. He's got to think you come there as my prisoner.
+See? He's got to wrestle with the notion that you're in the power of the
+damnedest villain that ever went unhung. I mean Blackwell. Let him chew on
+that proposition a while and see what he makes of it."
+
+She nodded, white to the lips. "Let us go at once, please. I don't want to
+leave Father alone with that man." She called across to the corral.
+"Manuel, saddle the pinto for me. Hurry!"
+
+They rode together through the wind-swept sunlit land. From time to time
+his lazy glance embraced her, a supple graceful creature at perfect ease
+in the saddle. What was it about her that drew the eye so irresistibly?
+Prettier girls he had often seen. Her features were irregular, mouth and
+nose too large, face a little thin. Her contour lacked the softness, the
+allure that in some women was an unconscious invitation to cuddle. Tough
+as whipcord she might be, but in her there flowed a life vital and strong;
+dwelt a spirit brave and unconquerable. She seemed to him as little subtle
+as any woman he had ever met. This directness came no doubt from living so
+far from feminine influences. But he had a feeling that if a man once
+wakened her to love, the instinct of sex would spring full-grown into
+being.
+
+They talked of the interests common to the country, of how the spring
+rains had helped the range, of Shorty McCabe's broken leg, of the new
+school district that was being formed. Before she knew it Kate was
+listening to his defense of himself in the campaign between him and her
+father. He found her a partisan beyond chance of conversion. Yet she heard
+patiently his justification.
+
+"I didn't make the conditions that are here. I have to accept them. The
+government establishes forest reserves on the range. No use ramming my
+head against a stone wall. Uncle Sam is bigger than we are. Your father
+and his friends got stubborn. I didn't."
+
+"No, you were very wise," she admitted dryly.
+
+"You mean because I adapted myself to the conditions and made the best of
+them. Why shouldn't I?" he flushed.
+
+"Father's cattle had run over that range thirty years almost. What right
+had you to take it from him?"
+
+"Conditions change. He wouldn't see it. I did. As for the right of
+it--well, Luck ain't king of the valley just because he thinks he is."
+
+She began to grow angry. A dull flush burned through the tan of her
+cheeks.
+
+"So you bought sheep and brought them in to ruin the range, knowing that
+they would cut the feeding ground to pieces, kill the roots of vegetation
+with their sharp hoofs, and finally fill the country with little gullies
+to carry off the water that ought to sink into the ground."
+
+"Sheep ain't so bad if they are run right."
+
+"It depends where they run. This is no place for them."
+
+"That's what you hear your father say. He's prejudiced."
+
+"And you're not, I suppose."
+
+"I'm more reasonable than he is."
+
+"Yes, you are," she flung back at him irritably.
+
+Open country lay before them. They had come out from a stretch of heavy
+underbrush. Catclaw had been snatching at their legs. Cholla had made the
+traveling bad for the horses. Now she put her pony to a canter that for
+the time ended conversation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+A COMPROMISE
+
+
+Luck lay stretched full length on a bunk, his face, to the roof, a wreath
+of smoke from his cigar traveling slowly toward the ceiling into a filmy
+blue cloud which hung above him. He looked the personification of vigorous
+full-blooded manhood at ease. Experience had taught him to take the
+exigencies of his turbulent life as they came, nonchalantly, to the eye of
+an observer indifferently, getting all the comfort the situation had to
+offer.
+
+By the table, facing him squarely, sat José Dominguez, a neatly built
+Mexican with snapping black eyes, a manner of pleasant suavity, and an
+ever-ready smile that displayed a double row of shining white teeth. That
+smile did not for an instant deceive Luck. He knew that José had no grudge
+against him, that he was a very respectable citizen, and that he would
+regretfully shoot him full of holes if occasion called for so drastic a
+termination to their acquaintanceship. For Dominguez had a third interest
+in the C. F. ranch, and he was the last man in the world to sacrifice his
+business for sentiment. Having put the savings of a lifetime into the
+sheep business, he did not propose to let anybody deprive him of his
+profits either legally or illegally.
+
+Luck was talking easily, in the most casual and amiable of voices.
+
+"No, Dominguez, the way I look at it you and Cass got in bad this time.
+Here's the point. In this little vendetta of ours both sides were trying
+to keep inside the law and win out. When you elected Bolt sheriff that was
+one to you. When you took out that grazing permit and cut me off the
+reserve that was another time you scored heavy. A third time was when you
+brought 'steen thousand of Mary's little lambs baaing across the desert.
+Well, I come back at you by deeding the Circle C to my girl and taking up
+the Del Oro homestead. You contest and lose. Good enough. It's up to you
+to try another move."
+
+"_Si, Señor_, and we move immediate. We persuade you to visit us at our
+summer mountain home where we can talk at leisure. We suggest a
+compromise."
+
+Luck grinned. "Your notion of a compromise and mine don't tally, José.
+Your idea is for me to give you the apple and stand by while you eat it.
+Trouble is that both parties to this quarrel are grabbers."
+
+"True, but Señor Cullison must remember his hands are tied behind him. He
+will perhaps not find the grabbing good," his opponent suggested
+politely.
+
+"Come to that, your hands are tied too, my friend. You can't hold me here
+forever. Put me out of business and the kid will surely settle your hash
+by proving up on the claim. What are you going to do about it?"
+
+"Since you ask me, I can only say that it depends on you. Sign the
+relinquishment, give us your word not to prosecute, and you may leave in
+three hours."
+
+Cullison shook his head. "That's where you get in wrong. Buck up against
+the law and you are sure to lose."
+
+"If we lose you lose too," Dominguez answered significantly.
+
+The tinkle of hoofs from the river bed in the gulch below rose through the
+clear air. The Mexican moved swiftly to the door and presently waved a
+handkerchief.
+
+"What gent are you wig-wagging to now?" Luck asked from the bed. "Thought
+I knew all you bold bad bandits by this time. Or is it Cass back again?"
+
+"Yes, it's Cass. There's someone with him too. It is a woman," the Mexican
+discovered in apparent surprise.
+
+"A woman!" Luck took the cigar from his mouth in vague unease. "What is he
+doing here with a woman?"
+
+The Mexican smiled behind his open hand. "Your question anticipates mine,
+Señor. I too ask the same."
+
+The sight of his daughter in the doorway went through the cattleman with a
+chilling shock. She ran forward and with a pathetic cry of joy threw
+herself upon him where he stood. His hands were tied behind him. Only by
+the turn of his head and by brushing his unshaven face against hers could
+he answer her caresses. There was a look of ineffable tenderness on his
+face, for he loved her more than anything else on earth.
+
+"Mr. Fendrick brought me," she explained when articulate expression was
+possible.
+
+"He brought you, did he?" Luck looked across her shoulder at his enemy,
+and his eyes grew hard as jade.
+
+"Of my own free will," she added.
+
+"I promised you a better argument than those I'd given you. Miss Cullison
+is that argument," Fendrick said.
+
+The cattleman's set face had a look more deadly than words. It told
+Fendrick he would gladly have killed him where he stood. For Luck knew he
+was cornered and must yield. Neither Dominguez nor Blackwell would consent
+to let her leave otherwise.
+
+"He brought me here to have a talk with you, Dad. You must sign any paper
+he wants you to sign."
+
+"And did he promise to take you back home after our talk?"
+
+"Miss Cullison would not want to leave as long as her father was here,"
+Fendrick answered for her glibly with a smile that said more than the
+words.
+
+"I'm going to hold you responsible for bringing her here."
+
+Fendrick could not face steadily the eyes of his foe. They bored into him
+like gimlets.
+
+"And responsible for getting her back home just as soon as I say the
+word," Luck added, the taut muscles standing out in his clenched jaw.
+
+"I expect your say-so won't be final in this matter, Luck. But I'll take
+the responsibility. Miss Cullison will get home at the proper time."
+
+"I'm not going home till you do," the girl broke in. "Oh, Dad, we've been
+so worried. You can't think."
+
+"You've played a rotten trick on me, Fendrick. I wouldn't have thought it
+even of a sheepman."
+
+"No use you getting crazy with the heat, Cullison. Your daughter asked me
+to bring her here, and I brought her. Of course I'm not going to break my
+neck getting her home where she can 'phone Bolt or Bucky O'Connor and have
+us rounded up. That ain't reasonable to expect. But I aim to do what's
+right. We'll all have supper together like sensible folks. Then José and I
+will give you the cabin for the night if you'll promise not to attempt to
+escape. In the morning maybe you'll see things different."
+
+Fendrick calculated not without reason that the best thing to do would be
+to give Kate a chance for a long private talk with her father. Her
+influence would be more potent than any he could bring to bear.
+
+After supper the door of the cabin was locked and a sentry posted. The
+prisoners were on parole, but Cass did not on that account relax his
+vigilance. For long he and his partner could hear a low murmur of voices
+from within the cabin. At length the lights went out and presently the
+voices died. But all through the night one or the other of the sheepmen
+patroled a beat that circled around and around the house.
+
+Fendrick did not broach the subject at issue next morning till after
+breakfast.
+
+"Well, what have you decided?" he asked at last.
+
+"Let's hear about that compromise. What is it you offer?" Luck demanded
+gruffly.
+
+"You sign the relinquishment and agree not to make us any trouble because
+we brought you here, and you may go by two o'clock."
+
+"You want to reach Saguache with the relinquishment in time to file it
+before I could get to a 'phone. You don't trust me."
+
+Fendrick smiled. "When we let you go we're trusting you a heap more than
+we would most men. But of course you're going to be sore about this and we
+don't want to put temptation in your way."
+
+"I see. Well, I accept your terms. I'll make you no _legal_ trouble. But I
+tell you straight this thing ain't ended. It's only just begun. I'm going
+to run you out of this country before I'm through with you."
+
+"Go to it. We'll see whether you make good."
+
+"Where is that paper you want me to sign?"
+
+Luck dashed off his signature and pushed the document from him. He hated
+the necessity that forced him to surrender. For himself he would have died
+rather than give way, but he had to think of his daughter and of his boy
+Sam who was engaged in a plot to hold up a train.
+
+His stony eyes met those of the man across the table. "No need for me to
+tell you what I think of this. A white man wouldn't have done such a
+trick. It takes sheepherders and greasers to put across a thing so
+damnable as dragging a woman into a feud."
+
+Fendrick flushed angrily. "It's not my fault; you're a pigheaded obstinate
+chump. I used the only weapon left me."
+
+Kate, standing straight and tall behind her father's chair, looked at
+their common foe with uncompromising scorn. "He is not to blame, Dad. He
+can't help it because he doesn't see how despicable a thing he has done."
+
+Again the blood rushed to the face of the sheepman. "I reckon that will
+hold me hitched for the present, Miss Cullison. In the meantime I'll go
+file that homestead entry of mine. Nothing like living up to the opinion
+your friends have of you."
+
+He wheeled away abruptly, but as he went out of the door one word came to
+him.
+
+"Friends!" Kate had repeated, and her voice told fully the contempt she
+felt.
+
+At exactly two o'clock Dominguez set the Cullisons on the homeward road.
+He fairly dripped apologies for the trouble to which he and his friends
+had been compelled to put them.
+
+Blackwell, who had arrived to take his turn as guard, stood in the doorway
+and sulkily watched them go.
+
+[Illustration: SHE WAS THANKING GOD THE AFFAIR WAS ENDED]
+
+From the river bed below the departing guests looked up at the cabin
+hidden in the pines. The daughter was thanking God in her heart that the
+affair was ended. Her father was vowing to himself that it had just
+begun.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+AN ARREST
+
+
+After half a week in the saddle Lieutenant Bucky O'Connor of the Arizona
+Rangers and Curly Flandrau reached Saguache tired and travel-stained. They
+had combed the Rincons without having met hide or hair of the men they
+wanted. Early next morning they would leave town again and this time would
+make for Soapy Stone's horse ranch.
+
+Bucky O'Connor was not disheartened. Though he was the best man hunter in
+Arizona, it was all in the day's work that criminals should sometimes
+elude him. But with Curly the issue was a personal one. He owed Luck
+Cullison a good deal and his imagination had played over the picture of
+that moment when he could go to Kate and tell her he had freed her
+father.
+
+After reaching town the first thing each of them did was to take a bath,
+the second to get shaved. From the barber shop they went to the best
+restaurant in Saguache. Curly was still busy with his pie _à la mode_ when
+Burridge Thomas, United States Land Commissioner for that district, took
+the seat opposite and told to O'Connor a most interesting piece of news.
+
+They heard him to an end without interruption. Then Curly spoke one word.
+"Fendrick."
+
+"Yes, sir, Cass Fendrick. Came in about one o'clock and handed me the
+relinquishment just as I've been telling you."
+
+"Then filed on the claim himself, you said."
+
+"Yes, took it up himself."
+
+"Sure the signature to the relinquishment was genuine?"
+
+"I'd take oath to it. As soon as he had gone I got out the original filing
+and compared the two. Couldn't be any possible mistake. Nobody could have
+forged the signature. It is like Luck himself, strong and forceful and
+decided."
+
+"We're not entirely surprised, Mr. Thomas," Lieutenant O'Connor told the
+commissioner. "In point of fact we've rather been looking for something of
+the kind."
+
+"Then you know where Luck is?" Thomas, a sociable garrulous soul, leaned
+forward eagerly.
+
+"No, we don't. But we've a notion Fendrick knows." Bucky gave the
+government appointee his most blandishing smile. "Of course we know _you_
+won't talk about this, Mr. Thomas. Can we depend on your deputies?"
+
+"I'll speak to them."
+
+"We're much obliged to you. This clears up a point that was in doubt to
+us. By the way, what was the date when the relinquishment was signed?"
+
+"To-day."
+
+"And who was the notary that witnessed it?"
+
+"Dominguez. He's a partner of Fendrick in the sheep business."
+
+"Quite a family affair, isn't it. Well, I'll let you know how things come
+out, Mr. Thomas. You'll be interested to know. Have a cigar."
+
+Bucky rose. "See you later, Curly. Sorry I have to hurry, Mr. Thomas, but
+I've thought of something I'll have to do right away."
+
+Bucky followed El Molino Street to the old plaza and cut across it to the
+Hotel Wayland. After a sharp scrutiny of the lobby and a nod of
+recognition to an acquaintance he sauntered to the desk and looked over
+the register. There, among the arrivals of the day, was the entry he had
+hoped to see.
+
+                  Cass Fendrick, C. F. Ranch, Arizona.
+
+The room that had been assigned to him was 212.
+
+"Anything you want in particular, Lieutenant?" the clerk asked.
+
+"No-o. Just looking to see who came in to-day."
+
+He turned away and went up the stairs, ignoring the elevator. On the
+second floor he found 212. In answer to his knock a voice said "Come in."
+Opening the door, he stepped in, closed it behind him, and looked at the
+man lying in his shirt sleeves on the bed.
+
+"Evening, Cass."
+
+Fendrick put down his newspaper but did not rise. "Evening, Bucky."
+
+Their eyes held to each other with the level even gaze of men who
+recognize a worthy antagonist.
+
+"I've come to ask a question or two."
+
+"Kick them out."
+
+"First, I would like to know what you paid Luck Cullison for his Del Oro
+claim."
+
+"Thinking of buying me out?" was the ironical retort of the man on the
+bed.
+
+"Not quite. I've got another reason for wanting to know."
+
+"Then you better ask Cullison. The law says that if a man _sells_ a
+relinquishment he can't file on another claim. If he surrenders it for
+nothing he can. Now Luck may have notions of filing on another claim. You
+can see that we'll have to take it for granted he gave me the claim."
+
+It was so neat an answer and at the same time so complete a one that
+O'Connor could not help appreciating it. He smiled and tried again.
+
+"We'll put that question in the discard. That paper was signed by Luck
+to-day. Where was he when you got it from him?"
+
+"Sure it was signed to-day? Couldn't it have been ante-dated?"
+
+"You know better than I do. When was it signed?"
+
+Fendrick laughed. He was watching the noted officer of rangers with
+narrowed wary eyes. "On advice of counsel I decline to answer."
+
+"Sorry, Cass. That leaves me only one thing to do. You're under arrest."
+
+"For what?" demanded the sheepman sharply.
+
+"For abducting Luck Cullison and holding him prisoner without his
+consent."
+
+Lazily Cass drawled a question. "Are you right sure Cullison can't be
+found?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Are you right sure he ain't at home attending to his business?"
+
+"Has he come back?"
+
+"Maybe so. I'm not Luck Cullison's keeper."
+
+Bucky thought he understood. In return for the relinquishment Cullison had
+been released. Knowing Luck as he did, it was hard for him to see how
+pressure enough had been brought to bear to move him.
+
+"May I use your 'phone?" he asked.
+
+"Help yourself."
+
+Fendrick pretended to have lost interest. He returned to his newspaper,
+but his ears were alert to catch what went on over the wires. It was
+always possible that Cullison might play him false and break the
+agreement. Cass did not expect this, for the owner of the Circle C was a
+man whose word was better than most men's bond. But the agreement had been
+forced upon him through a trick. How far he might feel this justified him
+in ignoring it the sheepman did not know.
+
+O'Connor got the Circle C on long distance. It was the clear contralto of
+a woman that answered his "Hello!"
+
+"Is this Miss Cullison?" he asked. Almost at once he added: "O'Connor of
+the rangers is speaking. I've heard your father is home again. Is that
+true?"
+
+An interval followed during which the ranger officer was put into the role
+of a listener. His occasional "Yes----Yes----Yes" punctuated the rapid
+murmur that reached Fendrick.
+
+Presently Bucky asked a question. "On his way to town now?"
+
+Again the rapid murmur.
+
+"I'll attend to that, Miss Cullison. I am in Fendrick's room now. Make
+your mind easy."
+
+Bucky hung up and turned to the sheepman. The latter showed him a face of
+derision. He had gathered one thing that disquieted him, but he did not
+intend to let O'Connor know it.
+
+"Well?" he jeered. "Find friend Cullison in tolerable health?"
+
+"I've been talking with his daughter."
+
+"I judged as much. Miss Spitfire well?"
+
+"Miss Cullison didn't mention her health. We were concerned about yours."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Cullison is headed for town and his daughter is afraid he is on the
+warpath against you."
+
+"You don't say."
+
+"She wanted me to get you out of her father's way until he has cooled
+down."
+
+"Very kind of her."
+
+"She's right, too. You and Luck mustn't meet yet. Get out of here and hunt
+cover in the hills for a few days. You know why better than I do."
+
+"How can I when I'm under arrest?" Fendrick mocked.
+
+"You're not under arrest. Miss Cullison says her father has no charge to
+bring against you."
+
+"Good of him."
+
+"So you can light a shuck soon as you want to."
+
+"Which won't be in any hurry."
+
+"Don't make any mistake. Luck Cullison is a dangerous man when he is
+roused."
+
+The sheepman looked at the ranger with opaque stony eyes. "If Luck
+Cullison is looking for me he is liable to find me, and he won't have to
+go into the hills to hunt me either."
+
+Bucky understood perfectly. According to the code of the frontier no man
+could let himself be driven from town by the knowledge that another man
+was looking for him with a gun. There are in the Southwest now many
+thousands who do not live by the old standard, who are anchored to law and
+civilization as a protection against primitive passions. But Fendrick was
+not one of these. He had deliberately gone outside of the law in his feud
+with the cattleman. Now he would not repudiate the course he had chosen
+and hedge because of the danger it involved. He was an aspirant to
+leadership among the tough hard-bitted denizens of the sunbaked desert.
+That being so, he had to see his feud out to a fighting finish if need
+be.
+
+"There are points about this case you have overlooked," Bucky told him.
+
+"Maybe so. But the important one that sticks out like a sore thumb is that
+no man living can serve notice on me to get out of town because he is
+coming on the shoot."
+
+"Luck didn't serve any such notice. All his daughter knows is that he is
+hot under the collar. Look at things reasonably, Cass. You've caused that
+young lady a heap of trouble already. Are you going to unload a lot more
+on her just because you want to be pigheaded. Only a kid struts around and
+hollers 'Who's afraid?' No, it's up to you to pull out, not because of
+Luck Cullison but on account of his daughter."
+
+"Who is such a thorough friend of mine," the sheepman added with his
+sardonic grin.
+
+"What do you care about that? She's a girl. I don't know the facts, but I
+can guess them. She and Luck will stand pat on what they promised you.
+Don't you owe her something for that? Seems to me a white man wouldn't
+make her any more worry."
+
+"It's because I am a white man that I can't dodge a fight when it's
+stacked up for me, Bucky."
+
+He said it with a dogged finality that was unshaken, but O'Connor made one
+more effort.
+
+"Nobody will know why you left."
+
+"I would know, wouldn't I? I've got to go right on living with myself. I
+tell you straight I'm going to see it out."
+
+Bucky's jaw clamped. "Not if I know it. You're under arrest."
+
+Fendrick sat up in surprise. "What for?" he demanded angrily.
+
+"For robbing the W. & S. Express Company."
+
+"Hell, Bucky. You don't believe that."
+
+"Never mind what I believe. There's some evidence against you--enough to
+justify me."
+
+"You want to get me out of Cullison's way. That's all."
+
+"If you like to put it so."
+
+"I won't stand for it. That ain't square."
+
+"You'll stand for it, my friend. I gave you a chance to clear out and you
+wouldn't take it."
+
+"I wouldn't because I couldn't. Don't make any mistake about this. I'm not
+looking for Luck. I'm attending to my business. Arrest _him_ if you want
+to stop trouble."
+
+There came a knock on the door. It opened to admit Luck Cullison. He shut
+it and put his back to it, while his eyes, hard as hammered iron, swept
+past the officer to fix on Fendrick.
+
+The latter rose quickly from the bed, but O'Connor flung him back.
+
+"Don't forget you're my prisoner."
+
+"He's your prisoner, is he?" This was a turn of affairs for which Luck was
+manifestly unprepared: "Well, I've come to have a little settlement with
+him."
+
+Fendrick, tense as a coiled spring, watched him warily. "Can't be any too
+soon to suit me."
+
+Clear cut as a pair of scissors through paper, Bucky snapped out his
+warning. "Nothing stirring, gentlemen. I'll shoot the first man that makes
+a move."
+
+"Are you in this, Bucky?" asked Cullison evenly.
+
+"You're right I am. He's my prisoner."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"For robbing the W. & S."
+
+Luck's face lit. "Have you evidence enough to cinch him?"
+
+"Not enough yet. But I'll take no chances on his getting away."
+
+The cattleman's countenance reflected his thoughts as his decision hung in
+the balance. He longed to pay his debt on the spot. But on the other hand
+he had been a sheriff himself. As an outsider he had no right to interfere
+between an officer and his captive. Besides, if there was a chance to send
+Fendrick over the road that would be better than killing. It would clear
+up his own reputation, to some extent under a cloud.
+
+"All right, Bucky. If the law wants him I'll step aside for the time."
+
+The sheepman laughed in his ironic fashion. His amusement mocked them
+both. "Most as good as a play of the movies, ain't it? But we'd ought all
+to have our guns out to make it realistic."
+
+But in his heart he did not jeer. For the situation had been nearer red
+tragedy than melodrama. The resource and firmness of Bucky O'Connor had
+alone made it possible to shave disaster by a hair's breadth and no more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A CONVERSATION
+
+
+Bucky O'Connor and his prisoner swung down the street side by side and
+turned in at the headquarters of the rangers. The officer switched on the
+light, shut the door, and indicated a chair. From his desk he drew a box
+of cigars. He struck a match and held it for the sheepman before using it
+himself.
+
+Relaxed in his chair, Fendrick spoke with rather elaborate indolence.
+
+"What's your evidence, Bucky? You can't hold me without any. What have you
+got that ties me to the W. & S. robbery?"
+
+"Why, that hat play, Cass? You let on you had shot Cullison's hat off his
+head while he was making his getaway. Come to find out you had his hat in
+your possession all the time."
+
+"Does that prove I did it myself?"
+
+"Looks funny you happened to be right there while the robbery was taking
+place and that you had Luck's hat with you."
+
+The sleepy tiger look lay warily in the sheepman's eyes. "That's what the
+dictionaries call a coincidence, Bucky."
+
+"They may. I'm not sure I do."
+
+"Fact, just the same."
+
+"I've a notion it will take some explaining."
+
+"Confidentially?"
+
+"Confidentially what?"
+
+"The explanation. You won't use it against me."
+
+"Not if you weren't in the hold-up."
+
+"I wasn't. This is the way it happened. You know Cullison was going to
+prove up on that Del Oro claim on Thursday. That would have put the C. F.
+ranch out of business. I knew he was in town and at the Del Mar, but I
+didn't know where he would be next day. He had me beat. I couldn't see any
+way out but to eat crow and offer a compromise. I hated it like hell, but
+it was up to me to hunt Luck up and see what he would do. His hat gave me
+an excuse to call. So I started out and came round the corner of San Mateo
+Street just in time to see the robber pull out. Honest, the fellow did
+shape up a little like Luck. Right then I got the darned fool notion of
+mixing him up in it. I threw his hat down and shot a hole in it, then
+unlocked the door of the express office carrying the hat in my hand.
+That's all there was to it."
+
+"Pretty low-down trick, wasn't it, to play on an innocent man?"
+
+"He was figuring to do me up. I don't say it was exactly on the square,
+but I was sore at him clear through. I wanted to get him into trouble. I
+_had_ to do something to keep his mind busy till I could turn round and
+think of a way out."
+
+Bucky reflected, looking at the long ash on his cigar. "The man that made
+the raid of the W. & S. shaped up like Luck, you say?"
+
+"In a general way."
+
+The ranger brushed the ash from the end of the cigar into the tray. Then
+he looked quietly at Fendrick. "Who was the man, Cass?"
+
+"I thought I told you----"
+
+"You did. But you lied. It was a moonlight night. And there's an arc light
+at that corner. By your own story, the fellow took his mask off as he
+swung to his horse. You saw his face just as distinctly as I see yours
+now."
+
+"No, I reckon not," Fendrick grinned.
+
+"Meaning you won't tell?"
+
+"That's not how I put it, Bucky. You're the one that says I recognized
+him. Come to think of it, I'm not sure the fellow didn't wear his mask
+till he was out of sight."
+
+"I am."
+
+"You are."
+
+"Yes. The mask was found just outside the office where the man dropped it
+before he got into the saddle."
+
+"So?"
+
+"That's not all. Curly and I found something else, too--the old shirt from
+which the cloth was cut."
+
+The sheepman swept him with one of his side-long, tiger-cat glances.
+"Where did you find it?"
+
+"In a barrel back of the Jack of Hearts."
+
+"Now, if you only knew who put it there," suggested Cass, with ironic
+hopefulness.
+
+"It happens I do. I have a witness who saw a man shove that old shirt down
+in the barrel after tearing a piece off."
+
+"Your witness got a name, Bucky?"
+
+"I'll not mention the name now. If it became too well known something
+might happen to my witness."
+
+Fendrick nodded. "You're wiser there. She wouldn't be safe, not if a
+certain man happened to hear what you've just told me."
+
+"I didn't say _she_, Cass."
+
+"No, I said it. Your witness is Mrs. Wylie."
+
+"Maybe, then, you can guess the criminal, too."
+
+"Maybe I could, but I'm not going to try."
+
+"Then we'll drop that subject. I'll ask you a question. Can you tell me
+where I can find a paroled convict named Blackwell?"
+
+Fendrick shook his head. "Don't know the gentleman. A friend of yours?"
+
+"One of yours. Better come through, Cass. I'm satisfied you weren't
+actually in this robbery, but there is such a thing as accessory after the
+fact. Now, I'm going to get that man. If you want to put yourself right,
+it's up to you to give me the information I want. Where is he?"
+
+"Haven't got him in _my_ pocket."
+
+The officer rose, not one whit less amiable. "I didn't expect you to tell
+me. That's all right. I'll find him. But in the meantime I'll have to lock
+you up till this thing is settled."
+
+From his inside coat pocket, Fendrick drew a sealed envelope, wrote the
+date across the front, and handed it to O'Connor.
+
+"Keep this, Bucky, and remember that I gave it to you. Put it in a safe
+place, but don't open the envelope till I give the word. Understand?"
+
+"I hear what you say, but I don't understand what you mean--what's back of
+it."
+
+"It isn't intended that you should yet. I'm protecting myself. That's
+all."
+
+"I guessed that much. Well, if you're ready, I'll arrange your lodgings
+for the night, Cass. I reckon I'll put you up at a hotel with one of the
+boys."
+
+"Just as you say."
+
+Fendrick rose, and the two men passed into the street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A TOUCH OF THE THIRD DEGREE
+
+
+Cullison was not the man to acknowledge himself beaten so long as there
+was a stone unturned. In the matter of the Del Oro homestead claim he
+moved at once. All of the county commissioners were personal friends of
+his, and he went to them with a plan for a new road to run across the Del
+Oro at the point where the cañon walls opened to a valley.
+
+"What in Mexico is the good of a county road there, Luck? Can't run a
+wagon over them mountains and down to the river. Looks to me like it would
+be a road from nowhere to nowhere," Alec Flandrau protested, puzzled at
+his friend's request.
+
+"I done guessed it," Yesler announced with a grin. "Run a county road
+through, and Cass Fendrick can't fence the river off from Luck's cows.
+Luck ain't aiming to run any wagon over that road."
+
+The Map of Texas man got up and stamped with delight. "I get you. We'll
+learn Cass to take a joke, by gum. Luck sure gets a county road for his
+cows to amble over down to the water. Cass can have his darned old
+homestead now."
+
+When Fendrick heard that the commissioners had condemned a right of way
+for a road through his homestead he unloaded on the desert air a rich
+vocabulary. For here would have been a simple way out of his trouble if he
+had only thought of it. Instead of which he had melodramatically kidnapped
+his enemy and put himself within reach of the law and of Cullison's
+vengeance.
+
+Nor did Luck confine his efforts to self-defense. He knew that to convict
+Fendrick of the robbery he must first lay hands upon Blackwell.
+
+It was, however, Bucky that caught the convict. The two men met at the top
+of a mountain pass. Blackwell, headed south, was slipping down toward
+Stone's horse ranch when they came face to face. Before the bad man had
+his revolver out, he found himself looking down the barrel of the ranger's
+leveled rifle.
+
+"I wouldn't," Bucky murmured genially.
+
+"What you want me for?" Blackwell demanded sulkily.
+
+"For the W. & S. robbery."
+
+"I'm not the man you want. My name's Johnson."
+
+"I'll put up with you till I find the man I do want, Mr. Johnson," Bucky
+told him cheerfully. "Climb down from that horse. No, I wouldn't try that.
+Keep your hands up."
+
+With his prisoner in front of him, O'Connor turned townward. They jogged
+down out of the hills through dark gulches and cactus-clad arroyos. The
+sharp catclaw caught at their legs. Tangled mesquite and ironwood made
+progress slow. They reached in time Apache Desert, and here Bucky camped.
+He hobbled his prisoner's feet and put around his neck a rope, the other
+end of which was tied to his own waist. Then he built a small fire of
+greasewood and made coffee for them both. The prisoner slept, but his
+captor did not. For he could take no chances of an escape.
+
+The outlines of the mountain ranges loomed shadowy and dim on both sides.
+The moonlight played strange tricks with the mesquit and the giant cactus,
+a grove of which gave to the place an awesome aspect of some ghostly
+burial ground of a long vanished tribe.
+
+Next day they reached Saguache. Bucky took his prisoner straight to the
+ranger's office and telephoned to Cullison.
+
+"Don't I get anything to eat?" growled the convict while they waited.
+
+"When I'm ready."
+
+Bucky believed in fair play. The man had not eaten since last night. But
+then neither had he. It happened that Bucky was tough as whipcord, as
+supple and untiring as a hickory sapling. Well, Blackwell was a pretty
+hard nut to crack, too. The lieutenant did not know anything about book
+psychology, but he had observed that hunger and weariness try out the
+stuff that is in a man. Under the sag of them many a will snaps that would
+have held fast if sustained by a good dinner and a sound night's sleep.
+This is why so many "bad men," gun fighters with a reputation for
+gameness, wilt on occasion like whipped curs. In the old days this came to
+nearly every terror of the border. Some day when he had a jumping
+toothache, or when his nerves were frayed from a debauch, a silent
+stranger walked into his presence, looked long and steadily into his eyes,
+and ended forever his reign of lawlessness. Sometimes the two-gun man was
+"planted," sometimes he subsided into innocuous peace henceforth.
+
+The ranger had a shrewd instinct that the hour had come to batter down
+this fellow's dogged resistance. Therefore he sent for Cullison, the man
+whom the convict most feared.
+
+The very look of the cattleman, with that grim, hard, capable aspect,
+shook Blackwell's nerve.
+
+"So you've got him, Bucky."
+
+Luck looked the man over as he sat handcuffed beside the table and read in
+his face both terror and a sly, dogged cunning. Once before the fellow had
+been put through the third degree. Something of the sort he fearfully
+expected now. Villainy is usually not consistent. This hulking bully
+should have been a hardy ruffian. Instead, he shrank like a schoolgirl
+from the thought of physical pain.
+
+"Stand up," ordered Cullison quietly.
+
+Blackwell got to his feet at once. He could not help it, even though the
+fear in his eyes showed that he cowered before the anticipated attack.
+
+"Don't hit me," he whined.
+
+Luck knew the man sweated under the punishment his imagination called up,
+and he understood human nature too well to end the suspense by making real
+the vision. For then the worst would be past, since the actual is never
+equal to what is expected.
+
+"Well?" Luck watched him with the look of tempered steel in his hard
+eyes.
+
+The convict flinched, moistened his lips with his tongue, and spoke at
+last.
+
+"I--I--Mr. Cullison, I want to explain. Every man is liable to make a
+mistake--go off half cocked. I didn't do right. That's a fac'. I can
+explain all that, but I'm sick now--awful sick."
+
+Cullison laughed harshly. "You'll be sicker soon."
+
+"You promised you wouldn't do anything if we turned you loose," the man
+plucked up courage to remind him.
+
+"I promised the law wouldn't do anything. You'll understand the
+distinction presently."
+
+"Mr. Cullison, please---- I admit I done wrong. I hadn't ought to have
+gone in with Cass Fendrick. He wanted me to kill you, but I wouldn't."
+
+With that unwinking gaze the ranchman beat down his lies, while fear
+dripped in perspiration from the pallid face of the prisoner.
+
+Bucky had let Cullison take the center of the stage. He had observed a
+growing distress mount and ride the victim. Now he stepped in to save the
+man with an alternative at which Blackwell might be expected not to snatch
+eagerly perhaps, but at least to be driven toward.
+
+"This man is my prisoner, Mr. Cullison. From what I can make out you ought
+to strip his hide off and hang it up to dry. But I've got first call on
+him. If he comes through with the truth about the W. & S. Express robbery,
+I've got to protect him."
+
+Luck understood the ranger. They were both working toward the same end.
+The immediate punishment of this criminal was not the important issue. It
+was merely a club with which to beat him into submission, and at that a
+moral rather than a physical one. But the owner of the Circle C knew
+better than to yield to Bucky too easily. He fought the point out with him
+at length, and finally yielded reluctantly, in such a way as to aggravate
+rather than relieve the anxiety of the convict.
+
+"All right. You take him first," he finally conceded harshly.
+
+Bucky kept up the comedy. "I'll take him, Mr. Cullison. But if he tells me
+the truth--and if I find out it's the whole truth--there'll be nothing
+doing on your part. He's my prisoner. Understand that."
+
+Metaphorically, Blackwell licked the hand of his protector. He was still
+standing, but his attitude gave the effect of crouching.
+
+"I aim to do what's right, Captain O'Connor. Whatever's right. You ask me
+any questions."
+
+"I want to know all about the W. & S. robbery, everything, from start to
+finish."
+
+"Honest, I wish I could tell you. But I don't know a thing about it. Cross
+my heart, I don't."
+
+"No use, Blackwell. If I'm going to stand by you against Mr. Cullison,
+you'll have to tell the truth. Why, man, I've even got the mask you wore
+and the cloth you cut it from."
+
+"I reckon it must a-been some one else, Major. Wisht I could help you, but
+I can't."
+
+Bucky rose. "All right. If you can't help me, I can't help you."
+Apparently he dismissed the matter from his mind, for he looked at his
+watch and turned to the cattleman. "Mr. Cullison, I reckon I'll run out
+and have some supper. Do you mind staying here with this man till I get
+back?"
+
+"No. That's all right, Bucky. Don't hurry, I'll keep him entertained."
+Perhaps it was not by chance that his eye wandered to a blacksnake whip
+hanging on the wall.
+
+O'Connor sauntered to the door. The frightened gaze of the prisoner clung
+to him as if for safety.
+
+"Major--Colonel--you ain't a-going," he pleaded.
+
+"Only for an hour or two. I'll be back. I wouldn't think of saying
+good-by--not till we reach Yuma."
+
+With that the door closed behind him. Blackwell cried out, hurriedly,
+eagerly. "Mister O'Connor!"
+
+Bucky's head reappeared. "What! Have you reduced me to the ranks already?
+I was looking to be a general by the time I got back," he complained
+whimsically.
+
+"I--I'll tell you everything--every last thing. Mr. Cullison--he's aiming
+to kill me soon as you've gone."
+
+"I've got no time to fool away, Blackwell. I'm hungry. If you mean
+business get to it. But remember that whatever you say will be used
+against you."
+
+"I'll tell you any dog-goned thing you want to know. You've got me beat.
+I'm plumb wore out--sick. A man can't stand everything."
+
+O'Connor came in and closed the door. "Let's have it, then--the whole
+story. I want it all: how you came to know about this shipment of money,
+how you pulled it off, what you have done with it, all the facts from
+beginning to the end."
+
+"Lemme sit down, Captain. I'm awful done up. I reckon while I was in the
+hills I've been underfed."
+
+"Sit down. There's a good dinner waiting for you at Clune's when you get
+through."
+
+Even then, though he must have known that lies could not avail, the man
+sprinkled his story with them. The residuum of truth that remained after
+these had been sifted out was something like this.
+
+He had found on the street a letter that had inadvertently been dropped.
+It was to Jordan of the Cattlemen's National Bank, and it notified him
+that $20,000 was to be shipped to him by the W. & S. Express Company on
+the night of the robbery. Blackwell resolved to have a try for it. He hung
+around the office until the manager and the guard arrived from the train,
+made his raid upon them, locked the door, and threw away his mask. He
+dived with the satchel into the nearest alley, and came face to face with
+the stranger whom he later learned to be Fendrick. The whole story of the
+horse had been a myth later invented by the sheepman to scatter the
+pursuit by making it appear that the robber had come from a distance. As
+the street had been quite deserted at the time this detail could be
+plausibly introduced with no chance of a denial.
+
+Fendrick, who had heard the shouting of the men locked in the express
+office, stopped the robber, but Blackwell broke away and ran down the
+alley. The sheepman followed and caught him. After another scuffle the
+convict again hammered himself free, but left behind the hand satchel
+containing the spoils. Fendrick (so he later explained to Blackwell) tied
+a cord to the handle of the bag and dropped it down the chute of a laundry
+in such a way that it could later be drawn up. Then he hurried back to the
+express office and released the prisoners. After the excitement had
+subsided, he had returned for the money and hid it. The original robber
+did not know where.
+
+Blackwell's second meeting with the sheepman had been almost as startling
+as the first. Cass had run into the Jack of Hearts in time to save the
+life of his enemy. The two men recognized each other and entered into a
+compact to abduct Cullison, for his share in which the older man was paid
+one thousand dollars. The Mexican Dominguez had later appeared on the
+scene, had helped guard the owner of the Circle C, and had assisted in
+taking him to the hut in the Rincons where he had been secreted.
+
+Both men asked the same question as soon as he had finished.
+
+"Where is the money you got from the raid on the W. & S. office?"
+
+"Don't know. I've been at Fendrick ever since to tell me. He's got it
+salted somewhere. You're fixing to put me behind the bars, and he's the
+man that really stole it."
+
+From this they could not shake him. He stuck to it vindictively, for
+plainly his malice against the sheepman was great. The latter had spoiled
+his coup, robbed him of its fruits, and now was letting him go to prison.
+
+"I reckon we'd better have a talk with Cass," Bucky suggested in a low
+voice to the former sheriff.
+
+Luck laughed significantly. "When we find him."
+
+For the sheepman had got out on bail the morning after his arrest.
+
+"We'll find him easily enough. And I rather think he'll have a good
+explanation, even if this fellow's story is true."
+
+"Oh, he'll be loaded with explanations. I don't doubt that for a minute.
+But it will take a hell of a lot of talk to get away from the facts. I've
+got him where I want him now, and by God! I'll make him squeal before the
+finish."
+
+"Oh, well, you're prejudiced," Bucky told him with an amiable smile.
+
+"Course I am; prejudiced as old Wall-eyed Rogers was against the
+vigilantes for hanging him on account of horse stealing. But I'll back my
+prejudices all the same. We'll see I'm right, Bucky."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+BOB TAKES A HAND
+
+
+Fendrick, riding on Mesa Verde, met Bob Cullison, and before he knew what
+had happened found a gun thrown on him.
+
+"Don't you move," the boy warned.
+
+"What does this tommyrot mean?" the sheepman demanded angrily.
+
+"It means that you are coming back with me to the ranch. That's what it
+means."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Never you mind what for."
+
+"Oh, go to Mexico," Cass flung back impatiently. "Think we're in some fool
+moving-picture play, you blamed young idiot. Put up that gun."
+
+Shrilly Bob retorted. He was excited enough to be dangerous. "Don't you
+get the wrong idea. I'm going to make this stick. You'll turn and go back
+with me to the Circle C."
+
+"And you'll travel to Yuma first thing you know, you young Jesse James.
+What _you_ need is a pair of leather chaps applied to your hide."
+
+"You'll go home with me, just the same."
+
+"You've got one more guess coming, kid. I'll not go without knowing why."
+
+"You're wanted for the W. & S. Express robbery. Blackwell has confessed."
+
+"Confessed that I did it?" Fendrick inquired scornfully.
+
+"Says you were in it with him. I ain't a-going to discuss it with you.
+Swing that horse round; and don't make any breaks, or there'll be mourning
+at the C. F. ranch."
+
+Cass sat immovable as the sphinx. He was thinking that he might as well
+face the charge now as any time. Moreover, he had reasons for wanting to
+visit the Circle C. They had to do with a tall, slim girl who never looked
+at him without scorn in her dark, flashing eyes.
+
+"All right. I'll go back with you, but not under a gun."
+
+"You'll go the way I say."
+
+"Don't think it. I've said I'll go. That settles it. But I won't stand for
+any gun-play capture."
+
+"You'll have to stand for it."
+
+Fendrick's face set. "Will I? It's up to you, then. Let's see you make
+me."
+
+Sitting there with his gaze steadily on the boy, Cass had Bob at a
+disadvantage. If the sheep owner had tried to break away into the
+chaparral. Bob could have blazed away at him, but he could not shoot a man
+looking at him with cynical, amused eyes. He could understand the point of
+view of his adversary. If Fendrick rode into the Circle C under compulsion
+of a gun in the hands of a boy he would never hear the end of the laugh on
+him.
+
+"You won't try to light out, will you?"
+
+"I've got no notion of lighting out."
+
+Bob put up his big blue gun reluctantly. Never before had it been trained
+on a human being, and it was a wrench to give up the thought of bringing
+in the enemy as a prisoner. But he saw he could not pull it off. Fendrick
+had declined to scare, had practically laughed him out of it. The boy had
+not meant his command as a bluff, but Cass knew him better than he did
+himself.
+
+They turned toward the Circle C.
+
+"Must have been taking lessons on how to bend a gun. You in training for
+sheriff, or are you going to take Bucky's place with the rangers?"
+Fendrick asked with casual impudence, malicious amusement gleaming from
+his lazy eyes.
+
+Bob, very red about the ears, took refuge in a sulky silence. He was being
+guyed, and not by an inch did he propose to compromise the Cullison
+dignity.
+
+"From the way you go at it, I figure you an old hand at the hold-up game.
+Wonder if you didn't pull off the W. & S. raid yourself."
+
+Bob writhed impotently. At this sort of thing he was no match for the
+other. Fendrick, now in the best of humors, planted lazily his offhand
+barbs.
+
+Kate was seated on the porch sewing. She rose in surprise when her cousin
+and the sheepman appeared. They came with jingling spurs across the plaza
+toward her. Bob was red as a turkeycock, but Fendrick wore his most
+devil-may-care insouciance.
+
+"Where's Uncle Luck, sis? I've brought this fellow back with me. Caught
+him on the mesa," explained the boy sulkily.
+
+Fendrick bowed rather extravagantly and flashed at the girl a smiling
+double-row of strong white teeth. "He's qualifying for a moving-picture
+show actor, Miss Cullison. I hadn't the heart to disappoint him when he
+got that cannon trained on me. So here I am."
+
+Kate looked at him and then let her gaze travel to her cousin. She somehow
+gave the effect of judging him of negligible value.
+
+"I think he's in his office, Bob. I'll go see."
+
+She went swiftly, and presently her father came out. Kate did not return.
+
+Luck looked straight at Cass with the uncompromising hostility so
+characteristic of him. Neither of the men spoke. It was Bob who made the
+necessary explanations. The sheepman heard them with a polite derision
+that suggested an impersonal amusement at the situation.
+
+"I've been looking for you," Luck said bluntly, after his nephew had
+finished.
+
+"So I gathered from young Jesse James. He intimated it over the long blue
+barrel of his cannon. Anything particular, or just a pleasant social
+call?"
+
+"You're in bad on this W. & S. robbery. I reckoned you would be safer in
+jail till it's cleared up."
+
+"You still sheriff, Mr. Cullison? Somehow I had got a notion you had quit
+the job."
+
+"I'm an interested party. There's new evidence, not manufactured,
+either."
+
+"Well, well!"
+
+"We'll take the stage into town and see what O'Connor says--that is, if
+you've got time to go." Luck could be as formal in his sarcasm as his
+neighbor.
+
+"With such good company on the way I'll have to make time."
+
+The stage did not usually leave till about half past one. Presently Kate
+announced dinner. A little awkwardly Luck invited the sheepman to join
+them. Fendrick declined. He was a Fletcherite, he informed Cullison
+ironically, and was in the habit of missing meals occasionally. This would
+be one of the times.
+
+His host hung in the doorway. Seldom at a loss to express himself, he did
+not quite know how to put into words what he was thinking. His enemy
+understood.
+
+"That's all right. You've satisfied the demands of hospitality. Go eat
+your dinner. I'll be right here on the porch when you get through."
+
+Kate, who was standing beside her father, spoke quietly.
+
+"There's a place for you, Mr. Fendrick. We should be very pleased to have
+you join us. People who happen to be at the Circle C at dinner time are
+expected to eat here."
+
+"Come and eat, man. You'll be under no obligations. I reckon you can hate
+us, just as thorough after a square meal as before. Besides, I was your
+guest for several days."
+
+Fendrick looked at the young mistress of the ranch. He meant to decline
+once more, but unaccountably found himself accepting instead. Something in
+her face told him she would rather have it so.
+
+Wherefore Cass found himself with his feet under the table of his foe
+discussing various topics that had nothing to do with sheep, homestead
+claims, abductions, or express robberies. He looked at Kate but rarely,
+yet he was aware of her all the time. At his ranch a Mexican did the
+cooking in haphazard fashion. The food was ill prepared and worse served.
+He ate only because it was a necessity, and he made as short a business of
+it as he could. Here were cut roses on a snowy tablecloth, an air of
+leisure that implied the object of dinner to be something more than to
+devour a given quantity of food. Moreover, the food had a flavor that made
+it palatable. The rib roast was done to a turn, the mashed potatoes
+whipped to a flaky lightness. The vegetable salad was a triumph, and the
+rice custard melted in his mouth.
+
+Presently a young man came into the dining room and sat down beside Kate.
+He looked the least in the world surprised at sight of the sheepman.
+
+"Mornin', Cass," he nodded
+
+"Morning, Curly," answered Fendrick. "Didn't know you were riding for the
+Circle C."
+
+"He's my foreman," Luck explained.
+
+Cass observed that he was quite one of the family. Bob admired him openly
+and without shame, because he was the best rider in Arizona; Kate seemed
+to be on the best of terms with him, and Luck treated him with the offhand
+bluffness he might have used toward a grown son.
+
+If Cass had, in his bitter, sardonic fashion, been interested in Kate
+before he sat down, the feeling had quickened to something different
+before he rose. It was not only that she was competent to devise such a
+meal in the desert. There was something else. She had made a _home_ for
+her father and cousin at the Circle C. The place radiated love,
+domesticity, kindly good fellowship. The casual give and take of the
+friendly talk went straight to the heart of the sheepman. This was living.
+It came to him poignantly that in his scramble for wealth he had missed
+that which was of far greater importance.
+
+The stage brought the two men to town shortly after sundown. Luck called
+up O'Connor, and made an appointment to meet him after supper.
+
+"Back again, Bucky," Fendrick grinned at sight of the ranger. "I hear I'm
+suspected of being a bad hold-up."
+
+"There's a matter that needs explaining, Cass. According to Blackwell's
+story, you caught him with the goods at the time of the robbery, and in
+making his getaway he left the loot with you. What have you done with
+it?"
+
+"Blackwell told you that, did he?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Don't doubt your word for a moment, Bucky, but before I do any talking
+I'd like to hear him say so. I'll not round on him until I know he's given
+himself away."
+
+The convict was sent for. He substantiated the ranger reluctantly. He was
+so hemmed in that he did not know how to play his cards so as to make the
+most of them. He hated Fendrick. But much as he desired to convict him, he
+could not escape an uneasy feeling that he was going to be made the
+victim. For Cass took it with that sarcastic smile of his that mocked them
+all in turn. The convict trusted none of them. Already he felt the
+penitentiary walls closing on him. He was like a trapped coyote, ready to
+snarl and bite at the first hand he could reach. Just now this happened to
+belong to Fendrick, who had cheated him out of the money he had stolen and
+had brought this upon him.
+
+Cass heard him out with a lifted upper lip and his most somnolent
+tiger-cat expression. After Blackwell had finished and been withdrawn from
+circulation he rolled and lit a cigarette.
+
+"By Mr. Blackwell's say-so I'm the goat. By the way, has it ever occurred
+to you gentlemen that one can't be convicted on the testimony of a single
+accomplice?" He asked it casually, his chair tipped back, smoke wreaths
+drifting lazily ceilingward.
+
+"We've got a little circumstantial evidence to add, Cass." Bucky suggested
+pleasantly.
+
+"Not enough--not nearly enough."
+
+"That will be for a jury to decide," Cullison chipped in.
+
+Fendrick shrugged. "I've a notion to let it go to that. But what's the
+use? Understand this. I wasn't going to give Blackwell away, but since he
+has talked, I may tell what I know. It's true enough what he says. I did
+relieve him of the plunder."
+
+"Sorry to hear that, Cass," Bucky commented gravely. "What did you do with
+it?"
+
+The sheep owner flicked his cigarette ash into the tray, and looked at the
+lieutenant out of half-shuttered, indolent eyes. "Gave it to you, Bucky."
+
+O'Connor sat up. His blue Irish eyes were dancing. "You're a cool
+customer, Cass."
+
+"Fact, just the same. Got that letter I handed you the other day?"
+
+The officer produced it from his safe.
+
+"Open it."
+
+With a paper knife Bucky ripped the flap and took out a sheet of paper.
+
+"There's something else in there," Fendrick suggested.
+
+The something else proved to be a piece of paper folded tightly, which
+being opened disclosed a key.
+
+O'Connor read aloud the letter:
+
+  To Nicholas Bolt, Sheriff, Or Bucky O'connor, Lieutenant of Rangers:
+
+  Having come into possession of a little valise which is not mine, I
+  am getting rid of it in the following manner. I have rented a large
+  safety-deposit box at the Cattlemen's National Bank, and have put
+  into it the valise with the lock still unbroken. The key is inclosed
+  herewith. Shaw, the cashier, will tell you that when this box was
+  rented I gave explicit orders it should be opened only by the men
+  whose names are given in an envelope left with him, not even
+  excepting myself. The valise was deposited at exactly 10:30 A. M. the
+  morning after the robbery, as Mr. Shaw will also testify. I am
+  writing this the evening of the same day.
+
+  Cass Fendrick.
+
+"Don't believe a word of it," Cullison exploded.
+
+"Seeing is believing," the sheepman murmured. He was enjoying greatly the
+discomfiture of his foe.
+
+"Makes a likely fairy tale. What for would you keep the money and not turn
+it back?"
+
+"That's an easy one, Luck. He wanted to throw the burden of the robbery on
+you," Bucky explained.
+
+"Well, I've got to be shown."
+
+In the morning he was shown. Shaw confirmed exactly what Fendrick had
+said. He produced a sealed envelope. Within this was a sheet of paper,
+upon which were written two lines.
+
+  Box 2143 is to be opened only by Sheriff Bolt or Lieutenant Bucky
+  O'Connor of the Rangers, and before witnesses.
+
+  CASS FENDRICK.
+
+From the safety-deposit vault Bucky drew a large package wrapped in yellow
+paper. He cut the string, tore away the covering, and disclosed a leather
+satchel. Perry Hawley, the local manager of the Western & Southern Express
+Company, fitted to this a key and took out a sealed bundle. This he ripped
+open before them all. Inside was found the sum of twenty thousand dollars
+in crisp new bills.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+A CLEAN UP
+
+
+A slight accident occurred at the jail, one so unimportant that Scanlan
+the jailer did not think it worth reporting to his chief. Blackwell, while
+eating, knocked a glass from the table and broke it on the cement floor of
+his cell. There is a legend to the effect that for want of a nail a battle
+was lost. By reason of a bit of glass secreted in his bed something quite
+as important happened to the convict.
+
+From the little table in his room he pried loose one of the corner braces.
+At night he scraped away at this with his bit of glass until the wood
+began to take the shape of a revolver. This he carefully blacked with the
+ink brought him by his guard. To the end of his weapon he fitted an iron
+washer taken from the bedstead. Then he waited for his opportunity.
+
+His chance came through the good nature of Scanlan. The jailer was in the
+habit of going down town to loaf for an hour or two with old cronies after
+he had locked up for the night. Blackwell pretended to be out of chewing
+tobacco and asked the guard to buy him some. About ten o'clock Scanlan
+returned and brought the tobacco to his prisoner. The moon was shining
+brightly, and he did not bring a lantern with him. As he passed the plug
+through the grating Blackwell's fingers closed around his wrist and drew
+the man close to the iron lattice work. Simultaneously a cold rim was
+pressed against the temple of the guard.
+
+"Don't move, or I'll fill you full of holes," the convict warned.
+
+Scanlan did not move, not until the man in the cell gave the word. Then he
+obeyed orders to the letter. His right hand found the bunch of keys,
+fitted the correct one to the door, and unlocked it according to
+instructions. Not until he was relieved of his weapon did Blackwell
+release him. The jailer was backed into the cell, gagged with a piece of
+torn bedding, and left locked up as securely as the other had been a few
+minutes earlier.
+
+The convict made his way downstairs, opened the outer door with the bunch
+of keys he had taken from Scanlan, locked it behind him, and slipped into
+the first alley that offered refuge. By way of the Mexican quarters he
+reached the suburbs and open country. Two hours later he stole a horse
+from an irrigated ranch near town. Within twenty-four hours he had reached
+the Soapy Stone horse ranch and safety.
+
+After this the plans for the raid on the Texas, Arizona & Pacific Flyer
+moved swiftly to a head. Soapy Stone and Sam dropped into Saguache
+inconspicuously one evening. Next day Stone rode down to Tin Cup to look
+over the ground. Maloney telephoned their movements to the Circle C and to
+the Hashknife. This brought to Saguache Luck Cullison, Curly Flandrau, and
+Slats Davis. Bucky O'Connor had been called to Douglas on important
+business and could not lend his help.
+
+Curly met Sam in front of Chalkeye's Place. They did the town together in
+a mild fashion and Flandrau proposed that they save money by taking a
+common room. To this young Cullison agreed.
+
+Luck, Curly and Dick Maloney had already ridden over the country
+surrounding the scene of the projected hold-up. They had decided that the
+robbery would probably take place at the depot, so that the outlaws could
+get the agent to stop the Flyer without arousing suspicion. In a pocket of
+the hills back of the station a camp had been selected, its site well back
+from any trail and so situated that from it one could command a view of
+Tin Cup.
+
+The owner of the Circle C selected three of his closemouthed
+riders--Sweeney, Jake and Buck were the ones he chose--to hold the camp
+with him until after the robbery. The only signal they needed was the
+stopping of the Flyer at Tin Cup. Then they would come pounding down from
+the hills in time to catch the robbers before they had got through with
+their work. Maloney or Curly would be on the train to take a hand in the
+battle. Caught by surprise, Soapy's gang would surely be trapped.
+
+So they planned it, but it happened that Soapy Stone had made his
+arrangements differently.
+
+Luck and his riders took their blankets and their traps down to Tin Cup
+according to agreement, while Davis, Maloney and Flandrau looked after the
+Saguache end of the business. All of them were very friendly with Sam. The
+boy, younger than any of them, was flattered that three of the best known
+riders in the territory should make so much of him. Moreover, Stone had
+given him instructions to mix with Curly's crowd as much as he could. He
+had given as a reason that it would divert suspicion, but what he really
+wanted was to throw the blame of the hold-up on these friends after Sam
+was found dead on the scene.
+
+Young Cullison had stopped drinking, but he could not keep his nerves from
+jumping. His companions pretended not to notice how worried he was, but
+they watched him so closely that he was never out of the sight of at least
+one of them. Soapy had decreed the boy's death by treachery, but his
+friends were determined to save him and to end forever the reign of Stone
+as a bad man.
+
+It was one day when the four young cowpunchers were sitting together in
+Curly's room playing poker that a special delivery letter came to Sam. The
+others, to cover their excitement, started an argument as to whether five
+aces (they were playing with the joker) beat a straight flush. Presently
+Sam spoke, as indifferently as he could.
+
+"Got the offer of a job down the line. Think I'll run down to-night far as
+Casa Grande and see what's doing."
+
+"If they need any extra riders here's some more out of a job," Dick told
+him.
+
+"Heard to-day of a freighter that wants a mule-skinner. I'm going to see
+him to-morrow," Slats chipped in.
+
+"Darn this looking for a job anyhow. It's tur'ble slow work," Curly
+followed up, yawning. "Well, here's hoping you land yours, Sam."
+
+This was about two o'clock in the afternoon. The game dragged on for a
+while, but nobody took any interest in it. Sam had to get ready for the
+work of the night, and the rest were anxious to get out and give him a
+chance. So presently Dick threw down his cards.
+
+"I've had enough poker for one session. Me, I'm going to drift out and see
+what's moving in town."
+
+"Think I'll snooze for a while," Sam said, stretching sleepily.
+
+The others trooped out and left him alone. From the room rented by Davis
+the three watched to see that Sam did not leave without being observed. He
+did not appear, and about six o'clock Curly went back to his room.
+
+"Time to grub," he sang out.
+
+"That's right," Sam agreed.
+
+They went to the New Orleans Hash House, and presently Davis and Maloney
+also arrived. The party ordered a good dinner and took plenty of time to
+eat it. Sam was obviously nervous, but eager to cover his uneasiness under
+a show of good spirits.
+
+Curly finished eating just as Sam's second cup of coffee came. Flandrau,
+who had purposely chosen a seat in the corner where he was hemmed in by
+the chairs of the others, began to feel in his vest pockets.
+
+"Darned if I've got a cigar. Sam, you're young and nimble. Go buy me one
+at the counter."
+
+"Sure." Cullison was away on the instant.
+
+Curly's hand came out of his pocket. In it was a paper. Quickly he shook
+the contents of the paper into the steaming cup of coffee and stirred the
+liquid with a spoon.
+
+Sam brought back the cigar and drank his coffee. Without any unnecessary
+delay they returned to his room. Before the party had climbed the stairs
+the boy was getting drowsy.
+
+"Dunno what's the matter with me. I'm feeling awful sleepy," he said,
+sitting on the bed.
+
+"Why don't you take a snooze? You've got lots of time before the train
+goes."
+
+"No, I don't reckon I better."
+
+He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and slumped down. His lids wavered, shut,
+jerked open again, and closed slowly.
+
+"Wake me, Curly--time for train." And with that he was sound asleep.
+
+They took off his boots and settled him comfortably. In his pocket they
+found a black mask big enough to cover his whole face. The registered
+letter could not be found and they decided he must have destroyed it.
+
+The sight of the mask had given Curly an idea. He was of about the same
+build as Sam. Why not go in his place? It would be worth doing just to
+catch sight of Soapy's face when he took the mask off after the robbers
+had been captured.
+
+"What's the use?" Davis protested. "It's an unnecessary risk. They might
+shoot you in place of Sam."
+
+"I'll look out for myself. Don't worry about that. Before the time for
+getting rid of Sam comes Mr. Soapy and his bunch will be prisoners."
+
+They argued it out, but Curly was set and could not be moved. He dressed
+in young Cullison's clothes and with Maloney took the express at 9:57.
+Davis remained to guard Sam.
+
+Curly's watch showed 10:17 when the wheels began to grind from the setting
+of the air brakes. He was in the last sleeper, Dick in the day coach near
+the front. They had agreed that Dick was to drop off as soon as the train
+slowed down enough to make it safe, whereas Curly would go on and play
+Sam's part until the proper time.
+
+The train almost slid to a halt from the pressure of the hard-jammed
+brakes. A volley of shots rang out. Curly slipped the mask over his face
+and rose with a revolver in each hand. He had been sitting at the end of
+the car, so that nobody noticed him until his voice rang out with a crisp
+order.
+
+"Hands up! Don't anybody move!"
+
+An earthquake shock could not have alarmed the passengers more. The color
+was washed completely from the faces of most of them.
+
+"Reach for the roof. Come, punch a hole in the sky!" To do it thoroughly,
+Curly flung a couple of shots through the ceiling. That was enough. Hands
+went up without any argument, most of them quivering as from an Arkansas
+chill.
+
+Presently Cranston herded the passengers in from the forward coaches. With
+them were most of the train crew. The front door of the car was locked so
+that they could not easily get out.
+
+"We're cutting off the express car and going forward to 'Dobe Wells with
+it. There we can blow open the safe uninterrupted," Bad Bill explained.
+"You ride herd on the passengers here from the outside till you hear two
+shots, then hump yourself forward and hop on the express car."
+
+Fine! Curly was to stand out there in the moonlight and let anybody in the
+car that had the nerve pepper away at him. If they did not attend to the
+job of riddling him, his false friends would do it while he was running
+forward to get aboard. Nothing could have been simpler--if he had not
+happened to have had inside information of their intent.
+
+He had to think quickly, for the plans of him and his friends had been
+deranged. They had reckoned on the express car being rifled on the spot.
+This would have given Cullison time to reach the scene of action. Mow they
+would be too late. Maloney, lying snugly in the bear grass beside the
+track, would not be informed as to the arrangement. Unless Curly could
+stop it, the hold-up would go through according to the program of Soapy
+and not of his enemies.
+
+The decision of Flamdrau was instantaneous. He slid down beside the track
+into the long grass. Whipping up one of his guns, he fired. As if in
+answer to the first shot his revolver cracked twice. Simultaneously, he
+let out a cry of pain, wriggled back for a dozen yards through the grass,
+and crossed the track in the darkness. As he crouched down close to the
+wheels of the sleeper someone came running back on the other side.
+
+"What's up, Sam? You hit?" he could hear Blackwell whisper.
+
+No answer came. The paroled convict was standing close to the car for fear
+of being hit himself and he dared not move forward into the grass to
+investigate.
+
+"Sam," he called again; then, "He's sure got his."
+
+That was all Curly wanted to know. Softly he padded forward, keeping as
+low as he could till he reached the empty sleepers. A brakeman was just
+uncoupling the express car when Curly dived underneath and nestled close
+to the trucks.
+
+From where he lay he could almost have reached out and touched Soapy
+standing by the car.
+
+"What about the kid?" Stone asked Blackwell as the latter came up.
+
+"They got him. Didn't you hear him yelp?"
+
+"Yes, but did they put him out of business? See his body?"
+
+Blackwell had no intention of going back into the fire zone and making
+sure. For his part he was satisfied. So he lied.
+
+"Yep. Blew the top of his head off."
+
+"Good," Soapy nodded. "That's a receipt in full for Mr. Luck Cullison."
+
+The wheels began to move. Soon they were hitting only the high spots.
+Curly guessed they must be doing close to sixty miles an hour. Down where
+he was the dust was flying so thickly he could scarce breathe, as it
+usually does on an Arizona track in the middle of summer.
+
+Before many minutes the engine began to slow down. The wheels had hardly
+stopped moving when Curly crept out, plowed through the sand, up the
+rubble of a little hill, and into a draw where a bunch of scrub oaks
+offered cover.
+
+A voice from in front called to him. Just then the moon appeared from
+behind drifting clouds.
+
+"Oh, it's you, Sam. Everything all right?"
+
+"Right as the wheat. We're blowing open the safe now," Flandrau answered.
+
+Moving closer, he saw that his questioner was the man in charge of the
+horses. Though he knew the voice, he could not put a name to its owner.
+But this was not the point that first occupied his mind. _There were only
+four horses for five riders._ Curly knew now that he had not been
+mistaken. Soapy had expected one of his allies to stay on the field of
+battle, had prepared for it from the beginning. The knowledge of this
+froze any remorse the young _vaquero_ might have felt.
+
+He pushed his revolver against the teeth of the horse wrangler.
+
+"Don't move, you bandy-legged maverick, or I'll fill your hide full of
+holes. And if you want to keep on living padlock that mouth of yours."
+
+In spite of his surprise the man caught the point at once. He turned over
+his weapons without a word.
+
+Curly unwound a rope from one of the saddles and dropped a loop round the
+neck of his prisoner. The two men mounted and rode out of the draw, the
+outlaw leading the other two horses. As soon as they reached the bluff
+above Flandrau outlined the next step in the program.
+
+"We'll stay here in the _tornilla_ and see what happens, my friend. Unless
+you've a fancy to get lead poisoning keep still."
+
+"Who in Mexico are you?" the captured man asked.
+
+"It's your showdown. Skin off that mask."
+
+The man hesitated. His own revolver moved a few inches toward his head.
+Hastily he took off the mask. The moon shone on the face of the man called
+Dutch. Flandrau laughed. Last time they had met Curly had a rope around
+his neck. Now the situation was reversed.
+
+An explosion below told them that the robbers had blown open the safe.
+Presently Soapy's voice came faintly to them.
+
+"Bring up the horses."
+
+He called again, and a third time. The dwarfed figures of the outlaws
+stood out clear in the moonlight. One of them ran up the track toward the
+draw. He disappeared into the scrub oaks, from whence his alarmed voice
+came in a minute.
+
+"Dutch! Oh, Dutch!"
+
+The revolver rim pressed a little harder against the bridge of the horse
+wrangler's nose.
+
+"He ain't here," Blackwell called back to his accomplices.
+
+That brought Stone on the run. "You condemned idiot, he _must_ be there.
+Ain't he had two hours to get here since he left Tin Cup?"
+
+They shouted themselves hoarse. They wandered up and down in a vain
+search. All the time Curly and his prisoner sat in the brush and scarcely
+batted an eye.
+
+At last Soapy gave up the hunt. The engine and the express car were sent
+back to join the rest of the train and as soon as they were out of sight
+the robbers set out across country toward the Flatiron ranch.
+
+Curly guessed their intentions. They would rustle horses there and head
+for the border. It was the only chance still left them.
+
+After they had gone Curly and his prisoner returned to the road and set
+out toward Tin Cup. About a mile and a half up the line they met Cullison
+and his riders on the way down. Maloney was with them. He had been picked
+up at the station.
+
+Dick gave a shout of joy when he heard Flandrau's voice.
+
+"Oh, you Curly! I've been scared stiff for fear they'd got you."
+
+Luck caught the boy's hand and wrung it hard. "You plucky young idiot,
+you've got sand in your craw. What the deuce did you do it for?"
+
+They held a conference while the Circle C riders handcuffed Dutch and tied
+him to a horse. Soon the posse was off again, having left the prisoner in
+charge of one of the men. They swung round in a wide half circle, not
+wishing to startle their game until the proper time. The horses pounded up
+hills, slid into washes, and plowed through sand on a Spanish trot,
+sometimes in the moonlight, more often in darkness. The going was rough,
+but they could not afford to slacken speed.
+
+When they reached the edge of the mesa that looked down on the Flatiron
+the moon was out and the valley was swimming in light. They followed the
+dip of a road that led down to the corral. Passing the fenced lane leading
+to the stable, they tied their ponies inside and took the places assigned
+to them by Cullison.
+
+They had not long to wait. In less than half an hour three shadowy figures
+slipped round the edge of the corral and up the lane. Each of them carried
+a rifle in addition to his hip guns.
+
+They slid into the open end of the stable. Cullison's voice rang out
+coldly.
+
+"Drop your guns!"
+
+A startled oath, a shot, and before one could have lifted a hand that
+silent moonlit valley of peace had become a battlefield.
+
+The outlaws fell back from the stable, weapons smoking furiously.
+Blackwell broke into a run, never looking behind him, but Soapy and Bad
+Bill gave back foot by foot fighting every step of the way.
+
+Dick and Curly rose from behind the rocks where they had been placed and
+closed the trap on Blackwell. The paroled convict let out one yell.
+
+"I give up. Goddlemighty, don't shoot!"
+
+His rifle he had already thrown away. With his arms reaching above him,
+his terror-stricken eyes popping from his head, he was a picture of the
+most frightened "bad man" who had ever done business in Arizona.
+
+Half way down the lane Cranston was hit. He sank to his knees, and from
+there lopped over sideways to his left elbow. In the darkness his voice
+could be heard, for the firing had momentarily ceased.
+
+"They've got me, Soapy. Run for it. I'll hold 'em back."
+
+"Hit bad, Bill?"
+
+"I'm all in. _Vamos!_"
+
+Stone turned to run, and for the first time saw that his retreat was cut
+off. As fast as he could pump the lever his rifle began working again.
+
+The firing this time did not last more than five seconds. When the smoke
+cleared it was all over. Soapy lay on his back, shot through and through.
+Blackwell had taken advantage of the diversion to crawl through the
+strands of barbed wire and to disappear in the chaparral. Bill had rolled
+over on his face.
+
+Curly crept through the fence after the escaping man, but in that heavy
+undergrowth he knew it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. After
+a time he gave it up and returned to the field of battle.
+
+Dick was bending over Stone. He looked up at the approach of his friend
+and said just one word.
+
+"Dead."
+
+Cullison had torn open Cranston's shirt and was examining his wounds.
+
+"No use, Luck. I've got a-plenty. You sure fooled us thorough. Was it Sam
+gave us away?"
+
+"No, Bill. Curly overheard Soapy and Blackwell at Chalkeye's Place. Sam
+stood pat, though you were planning to murder him."
+
+"I wasn't in on that, Luck--didn't know a thing about it till after the
+boy was shot. I wouldn't a-stood for it."
+
+"He wasn't shot. Curly saved him. He had to give you away to do it."
+
+"Good enough. Serves Soapy right for double crossing Sam. Take care of
+that kid, Luck. He's all right yet." His eye fell on Flandrau. "You're a
+game sport, son. You beat us all. No hard feelings."
+
+"Sorry it had to be this way, Bill."
+
+The dying man was already gray to the lips, but his nerve did not falter.
+"It had to come some time. And it was Luck ought to have done it too." He
+waved aside Sweeney, who was holding a flask to his lips. "What's the use?
+I've got mine."
+
+"Shall we take him to the house?" Maloney asked.
+
+"No. I'll die in the open. Say, there's something else, boys. Curly has
+been accused of that Bar Double M horse rustling back in the early summer.
+I did that job. He was not one of us. You hear, boys. Curly was not in
+it."
+
+A quarter of an hour later he died. He had lied to save from the
+penitentiary the lad who had brought about his death. Curly knew why he
+had done it--because he felt himself to blame for the affair. Maybe Bad
+Bill had been a desperado, a miscreant according to the usual standard,
+but when it came to dying he knew how to go better than many a respectable
+citizen. Curly stole off into the darkness so that the boys would not see
+him play the baby.
+
+By this time the men from the Flatiron were appearing, armed with such
+weapons as they could hastily gather. The situation was explained to them.
+Neighboring ranches were called up by telephone and a systematic hunt
+started to capture Blackwell.
+
+Luck left his three riders to help in the man hunt, but he returned with
+Curly and Maloney to Saguache. On the pommel of his saddle was a sack. It
+contained the loot from the express car of the Flyer. Two lives already
+had been sacrificed to get it, and the sum total taken amounted only to
+one hundred ninety-four dollars and sixteen cents.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE PRODIGAL SON
+
+
+They found the prodigal son with his sister and Laura London at the Del
+Mar. Repentance was writ large all over his face and manner. From Davis
+and from the girls he had heard the story of how Soapy Stone had intended
+to destroy him. His scheme of life had been broken into pieces and he was
+a badly shaken young scamp.
+
+When Luck and Curly came into the room he jumped up, very white about the
+lips.
+
+"Father!"
+
+"My boy!"
+
+Cullison had him by the hand, one arm around the shaking shoulders.
+
+"What----what----?"
+
+Sam's question broke down, but his father guessed it.
+
+"Soapy and Bad Bill were killed, Dutch is a prisoner, and Blackwell
+escaped. All Spring Valley is out after him."
+
+The boy was aghast. "My God!"
+
+"Best thing for all of us. Soapy meant to murder you. If it hadn't been
+for Curly----"
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"No question about it. He brought no horse for you to ride away on. Bill
+admitted it, though he didn't know what was planned. Curly heard Soapy ask
+Blackwell whether he had seen your body."
+
+The boy shuddered and drew a long sobbing, breath. "I've been a fool,
+Father--and worse."
+
+"Forget it, son. We'll wipe the slate clean. I've been to blame too."
+
+It was no place for outsiders. Curly beat a retreat into the next room.
+The young women followed him. Both of them were frankly weeping. Arms
+twined about each other's waists, they disappeared into an adjoining
+bedroom.
+
+"Don't go," Kate called to him over her shoulder.
+
+Curly sat down and waited. Presently Kate came back alone. Her shining
+eyes met his.
+
+"I never was so happy in all my life before. Tell me what
+happened--everything please."
+
+As much as was good for her to know Curly told. Without saying a word she
+listened till he was through. Then she asked a question.
+
+"Won't Dutch tell about Sam being in it?"
+
+"Don't matter if he does. Evidence of an accomplice not enough to convict.
+Soapy overshot himself. I'm here to testify that Sam and he quarrelled
+before Sam left. Besides, Dutch won't talk. I drilled it into him thorough
+that he'd better take his medicine without bringing Sam in."
+
+She sat for a long time looking out of the window without moving. She did
+not make the least sound, but the young man knew she was crying softly to
+herself. At last she spoke in a low sweet voice.
+
+"What can we do for you? First you save Father and then Sam. You risked
+everything for my brother--to win him back to us, to save his life and now
+his reputation. If you had been killed people would always have believed
+you were one of the gang."
+
+"Sho! That's nonsense, Miss Kate." He twisted his hat in his hand
+uneasily. "Honest, I enjoyed every bit of it. And a fellow has to pay his
+debts."
+
+"Was that why you did it?" she asked softly.
+
+"Yes. I had to make good. I had to show your father and you that I had not
+thrown away all your kindness. So I quit travelling that downhill road on
+which I had got started."
+
+"I'm glad--I'm so glad." She whispered it so low he could hardly hear.
+
+"There was one way to prove myself. That was to stand between Sam and
+trouble. So I butted in and spoiled Soapy's game."
+
+"I wish I could tell you how fine Father thinks it was of you. He doesn't
+speak of it much, but I know."
+
+"Nothing to what I did--nothing at all." A wave of embarrassment had crept
+to the roots of his curly hair. "Just because a fellow--Oh, shucks!"
+
+"That's all very well for you to say, but you can't help us thinking what
+we please."
+
+"But that ain't right. I don't want you thinking things that ain't so
+because----"
+
+"Yes? Because----?"
+
+She lifted her eyes and met his. Then she knew it had to come out, that
+the feeling banked in him would overflow in words.
+
+"Because you're the girl I love."
+
+He had not intended to say it now, lest he might seem to be urging his
+services as a claim upon her. But the words had slipped out in spite of
+him.
+
+She held out her two hands to him with a little gesture of surrender. The
+light of love was in her starry eyes.
+
+And then----
+
+She was in his arms, and the kisses he had dreamed about were on his
+lips.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+CUTTING TRAIL
+
+
+Kate Cullison had disappeared, had gone out riding one morning and at
+nightfall had not returned. As the hours passed, anxiety at the Circle C
+became greater.
+
+"Mebbe she got lost," Bob suggested.
+
+Her father scouted this as absurd. "Lost nothing. You couldn't lose her
+within forty miles of the ranch. She knows this country like a cow does
+the range. And say she was lost--all she would have to do would be to give
+that pinto his head and he'd hit a bee line for home. No, nor she ain't
+had an accident either, unless it included the pony too."
+
+"You don't reckon a cougar----," began Sweeney, and stopped.
+
+Luck looked at his bandy-legged old rider with eyes in which little cold
+devils sparkled. "A human cougar, I'll bet. This time I'll take his hide
+off inch by inch while he's still living."
+
+"You thinking of Fendrick?" asked Sam.
+
+"You've said it."
+
+Sweeney considered, rasping his stubbly chin. "I don't reckon Cass would
+do Miss Kate a meanness. He's a white man, say the worst of him. But it
+might be Blackwell. When last seen he was heading into the hills. If he
+met her----"
+
+A spasm of pain shot across Luck's face. "My God! That would be awful."
+
+"By Gum, there he is now, Luck." Sweeney's finger pointed to an advancing
+rider.
+
+Cullison swung as on a pivot in time to see someone drop into the dip in
+the road, just beyond the corral. "Who--Blackwell?"
+
+"No. Cass."
+
+Fendrick reappeared presently and turned in at the lane. Cullison,
+standing on the porch at the head of the steps looked like a man who was
+passing through the inferno. But he looked too a personified day of
+judgment untempered by mercy. His eyes bored like steel gimlets into those
+of his enemy.
+
+The sheepman spoke, looking straight at his foe. "I've just heard the
+news. I was down at Yesler's ranch when you 'phoned asking if they had
+seen anything of Miss Cullison. I came up to ask you one question. When
+was she seen last?"
+
+"About ten o'clock this morning. Why?"
+
+"I saw her about noon. She was on Mesa Verde, headed for Blue Cañon looked
+like."
+
+"Close enough to speak to her?" Sam asked.
+
+"Yes. We passed the time of day."
+
+"And then?" Luck cut back into the conversation with a voice like a file.
+
+"She went on toward the gulch and I kept on to the ranch. The last I saw
+of her she was going straight on."
+
+"And you haven't seen her since?"
+
+The manner of the questioner startled Fendrick. "God, man, you don't think
+I'm in this, do you?"
+
+"If you are you'd better blow your brains out before I learn it. And if
+you're trying to lead me on a false scent----" Luck stopped. Words failed
+him, but his iron jaw clamped like a vice.
+
+Fendrick spoke quietly. "I'm willing. In the meantime we'd better travel
+over toward Mesa Verde, so as to be ready to start at daybreak."
+
+Cullison's gaze had never left him. It observed, weighed, appraised. "Good
+enough. We'll start."
+
+He left Sweeney to answer the telephone while he was away. All of his
+other riders were already out combing the hills under supervision of
+Curly. Luck had waited with Sam only to get some definite information
+before starting. Now he had his lead. Fendrick was either telling the
+truth or he was lying with some sinister purpose in view. The cattleman
+meant to know which.
+
+Morning breaks early in Arizona. By the time they had come to the spot
+where the sheepman said he had met Kate gray streaks were already
+lightening the sky. The party moved forward slowly toward the cañon,
+spreading out so as to cover as much ground as possible. Before they
+reached its mouth the darkness had lifted enough to show the track of a
+horse in the sand.
+
+They pushed up the gulch as rapidly as they could. The ashes of a camp
+fire halted them a few minutes later. Scattered about lay the feathers and
+dismembered bones of some birds.
+
+Cass stooped and picked up some of the feathers. "Quails, I reckon. Miss
+Cullison had three tied to her saddle horn when I met her."
+
+"Why did she come up here to cook them?" Sam asked.
+
+Luck was already off his horse, quartering over the ground to read what it
+might tell him.
+
+"She wasn't alone. There was a man with her. See these tracks."
+
+It was Fendrick who made the next discovery. He had followed a draw for a
+short distance and climbed to a little mesa above. Presently he called to
+Cullison.
+
+Father and son hurried toward him. The sheep-owner was standing at the
+edge of a prospect hole pointing down with his finger.
+
+"Someone has been in that pit recently, and he's been there several
+days."
+
+"Then how did he get out?" Sam asked.
+
+Fendrick knelt on the edge of the pit and showed him where a rope had been
+dragged so heavily that it had cut deeply into the clay.
+
+"Someone pulled him out."
+
+"What's it mean anyhow? Kate wasn't in that hole, was she?"
+
+Cass shook his head. "This is my guess. Someone was coming along here in
+the dark and fell in. Suppose Miss Cullison heard him calling as she came
+up the gulch. What would she do?"
+
+"Come up and help the fellow out."
+
+"Sure she would. And if he was hungry--as he likely was--she would cook
+her quail for him."
+
+"And then? Why didn't she come home?"
+
+Luck turned a gray agonized face on him. "Boy, don't you see? The man was
+Blackwell."
+
+"And if you'll put yourself in Blackwell's place you'll see that he
+couldn't let her go home to tell where she had seen him," Fendrick
+explained.
+
+"Then where is she? What did he do with her?"
+
+There came a moment's heavy silence. The pale face of the boy turned from
+the sheepman to his father. "You don't think that--that----"
+
+"No, I don't," Cass answered. "But let's look this thing squarely in the
+face. There were three things he could do with her. First, he might leave
+her in the pit. He didn't do that because he hadn't the nerve. She might
+be found soon and set the hunters on his track. Or she might die in that
+hole and he be captured later with her pinto. I know him. He always plays
+a waiting game when he can. Takes no chances if he can help it."
+
+"You think he took her with him then," Luck said.
+
+"Yes. There's a third possibility. He may have shot her when he got a good
+chance, but I don't think so. He would keep her for a hostage as long as
+he could."
+
+"That's the way I figure it," agreed Cullison. "He daren't hurt her, for
+he would know Arizona would hunt him down like a wolf if he did."
+
+"Then where's he taking her?" Sam asked.
+
+"Somewhere into the hills. He knows every pocket of them. His idea will be
+to slip down and cut across the line into Sonora. He's a rotten bad lot,
+but he won't do her any harm unless he's pushed to the wall. The fear of
+Luck Cullison is in his heart."
+
+"That's about it," nodded Luck. "He's somewhere in these hills unless he's
+broken through. Bolt 'phoned me that one of his posse came on the ashes of
+a camp fire still warm. They're closing in on him. He's got to get food or
+starve, unless he can break through."
+
+"There's a chance he'll make for one of my sheep camps to lay in a supply.
+Wouldn't it be a good idea to keep a man stationed at each one of them?"
+
+"You're talking sense," Cullison approved. "Sam, ride back and get in
+touch with Curly. Tell him to do that. And rouse the whole country over
+the wire. We'll run him down and feed him to the coyotes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+A GOOD SAMARITAN
+
+
+Fendrick had told the exact truth. After leaving him Kate had ridden
+forward to the cañon and entered it. She did not mean to go much farther,
+but she took her time. More than once she slipped from under a fold of her
+waist a letter and reread sentences of it. Whenever she did this her eyes
+smiled. For it was a love letter from Curly, the first she had ever had.
+It had been lying on the inner edge of the threshold of her bedroom door
+that morning when she got up, and she knew that her lover had risen early
+to put it there unnoticed.
+
+They were to be married soon. Curly had wished to wait till after his
+trial, but she had overruled him. Both her father and Sam had sided with
+her, for she had made them both see what an advantage it would be with a
+jury for Flandrau to have his bride sitting beside him in the courtroom.
+
+Faintly there came to her a wind-swept sound. She pulled up and waited,
+but no repetition of it reached her ears. But before her pony had moved a
+dozen steps she stopped him again. This time she was almost sure of a far
+cry, and after it the bark of a revolver.
+
+With the touch of a rein she guided her horse toward the sound. It might
+mean nothing. On the other hand it might be a call for help. Her shout
+brought an answer which guided her to the edge of a prospect hole. In the
+darkness she made out an indistinct figure.
+
+"Water," a husky voice demanded.
+
+She got her canteen from the saddle and dropped it to him. The man glued
+his lips to the mouth as if he could never get enough.
+
+"For God's sake get me out of here," he pleaded piteously.
+
+"How long have you been there?"
+
+"Two days. I fell in at night whilst I was cutting acrost country."
+
+Kate fastened her rope to the horn of the saddle, tightened the cinch
+carefully, and dropped the other end to him. She swung to the back of the
+horse and braced herself by resting her full weight on the farther
+stirrup.
+
+"Now," she told him.
+
+The imprisoned man tried to pull himself up, bracing his feet against the
+rough projections of the rock wall to help him. But he could not manage
+the climb. At last he gave it up with an oath.
+
+"We'll try another way," the girl told him cheerfully.
+
+At spaces about a foot distant she tied knots in the rope for about the
+first six feet.
+
+"This time you'll make it," she promised. "You can get up part way as you
+did before. Then I'll start my horse forward. Keep braced out from the
+wall so as not to get crushed."
+
+He growled an assent. Once more she got into the saddle and gave the word.
+He dragged himself up a few feet and then the cowpony moved forward. The
+legs of the man doubled up under the strain and he was crushed against the
+wall just as he reached the top. However, he managed to hang on and was
+dragged over the edge with one cheek scratched and bleeding.
+
+"Might a-known you'd hurt me if you moved so fast," he complained, nursing
+his wounded face in such a way as to hide it.
+
+"I'm sorry. I did my best to go carefully," the girl answered, stepping
+forward.
+
+His hand shot forward and caught her wrist Her startled eyes flashed to
+his face. The man was the convict Blackwell.
+
+"Got anything to eat with you. I'm starving," he snapped.
+
+"Yes. I shot some quail Let go my hand."
+
+He laughed evilly, without mirth. "Don't try any of your sassy ways on me.
+By God, I'm a wolf on the howl."
+
+In spite of her supple slenderness there was strength in her small wrists.
+She fought and twisted till she was worn out in her efforts to free
+herself. Panting, she faced him.
+
+"Let me go, I tell you."
+
+For answer his open hand struck her mouth. "Not till you learn your boss.
+Before I'm through with you a squaw won't be half so tame as you."
+
+He dragged her to the horse, took from its case the rifle that hung by the
+saddle, and flung her from him roughly. Then he pulled himself to the
+saddle.
+
+"March ahead of me," he ordered.
+
+As soon as they had reached the bed of the cañon lie called a halt and
+bade her light a fire and cook him the quail. She gathered ironwood and
+catclaw while he watched her vigilantly. Together they roasted the birds
+by holding them over the fire with sharpened sticks thrust through the
+wings. He devoured them with the voracity of a wild beast.
+
+Hitherto his mind had been busy with the immediate present, but now his
+furtive shifting gaze rested on her more thoughtfully. It was as a factor
+of his safety that he considered her. Gratitude was a feeling not within
+his scope. The man's mind worked just as Fendrick had surmised. He would
+not let her go back to the ranch with the news that he was hidden in the
+hills so close at hand. He dared not leave her in the prospect hole. He
+was not yet ready to do murder for fear of punishment. That was a
+possibility to be considered only if he should be hard pressed. The only
+alternative left him was to take her to the border as a companion of his
+fugitive doublings.
+
+"We'll be going now," he announced, after he had eaten.
+
+"Going where? Don't you see I'll be a drag to you? Take my horse and go.
+You'll get along faster."
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+She opened her lips to answer, but there was something in his
+face--something at once so cruel and deadly and wolfish--that made the
+words die on her lips. For the first time it came to her that if he did
+not take her with him he would kill her to insure his own safety. None of
+the arguments that would have availed with another man were of any weight
+here. Her sex, her youth, the service she had done him--these would not
+count a straw. He was lost to all the instincts of honor that govern even
+hard desperate men of his class.
+
+They struck into the mountains, following a cattle trail that wound upward
+with devious twists. The man rode, and the girl walked in front with the
+elastic lightness, the unconscious flexuous grace of poise given her body
+by an outdoor life. After a time they left the gulch. Steadily they
+traveled, up dark arroyos bristling with mesquite, across little valleys
+leading into timbered stretches through which broken limbs and uprooted
+trees made progress almost impossible, following always untrodden ways
+that appalled with their lonely desolation.
+
+By dusk they were up in the headwaters of the creeks. The resilient
+muscles of the girl had lost their spring. She moved wearily, her feet
+dragging heavily so that sometimes she staggered when the ground was
+rough. Not once had the man offered her the horse. He meant to be fresh,
+ready for any emergency that might come. Moreover, it pleased his small
+soul to see the daughter of Luck Cullison fagged and exhausted but still
+answering the spur of his urge.
+
+The moon was up before they came upon a tent shining in the cold silvery
+light. Beside it was a sheetiron stove, a box, the ashes of a camp fire,
+and a side of bacon hanging from the limb of a stunted pine. Cautiously
+they stole forward.
+
+The camp was for the time deserted. No doubt its owner, a Mexican
+sheepherder in the employ of Fendrick and Dominguez, was out somewhere
+with his flock.
+
+Kate cooked a meal and the convict ate. The girl was too tired and anxious
+to care for food, but she made herself take a little. They packed the
+saddlebags with bacon, beans, coffee and flour. Blackwell tightened again
+the cinches and once more the two took the trail.
+
+They made camp in a pocket opening from a gulch far up in the hills. With
+her own _reata_ he fastened her hands behind her and tied the girl
+securely to the twisted trunk of a Joshua tree. To make sure of her he lay
+on the rope, both hands clinched to the rifle. In five minutes he was
+asleep, but it was long before Kate could escape from wakefulness. She was
+anxious, her nerves were jumpy, and the muscles of arms and shoulders were
+cramped. At last she fell into troubled catnaps.
+
+From one of these she awoke to see that the morning light was sifting
+through the darkness. Her bones and muscles ached from the constraint of
+the position in which the rope held them. She was shivering with the chill
+of an Arizona mountain night. Turning her body, the girl's eyes fell upon
+her captor. He was looking at her in the way that no decent man looks at a
+woman. Her impulse was to scream, to struggle to her feet and run. What
+did he mean? What was he going to do?
+
+But something warned her this would precipitate the danger. She called
+upon her courage and tried to still the fearful tumult in her heart.
+Somehow she succeeded. A scornful, confident pride flashed from her eyes
+into his. It told him that for his life he dared not lay a finger upon her
+in the way of harm. And he knew it was true, knew that if he gave way to
+his desire no hole under heaven would be deep enough to hide him from the
+vengeance of her friends.
+
+He got sullenly to his feet. "Come. We'll be going."
+
+Within the hour they saw some of his hunters. The two were sweeping around
+the lip of a mountain park nestling among the summits. A wisp of smoke
+rose from the basin below. Grouped about it were three men eating
+breakfast.
+
+"Don't make a sound," warned Blackwell.
+
+His rifle covered her. With all her soul she longed to cry for help. But
+she dared not take the risk. Even as the two on the edge of the bowl
+withdrew from sight one of the campers rose and sauntered to a little
+grove where the ponies were tethered. The distance was too far to make
+sure, but something in the gait made the girl sure that the man was Curly.
+Her hands went out to him in a piteous little gesture of appeal.
+
+She was right. It was Curly. He was thinking of her at that moment
+despairingly, but no bell of warning rang within to tell him she was so
+near and in such fearful need of him.
+
+Twice during the morning did the refugee attempt to slip down into the
+parched desert that stretched toward Sonora and safety. But the cordon set
+about him was drawn too close. Each time a loose-seated rider lounging in
+the saddle with a rifle in his hands drove them back. The second attempt
+was almost disastrous, for the convict was seen. The hum of a bullet
+whistled past his ears as he and his prisoner drew back into the chaparral
+and from thence won back to cover.
+
+Kate, drooping with fatigue, saw that fear rode Blackwell heavily. He was
+trapped and he knew that by the Arizona code his life was forfeit and
+would be exacted of him should he be taken. He had not the hardihood to
+game it out in silence, but whined complaints, promises and threats. He
+tried to curry favor with her, to work upon her pity, even while his
+furtive glances told her that he was wondering whether he would have a
+better chance if he sacrificed her life.
+
+From gulch to arroyo, from rock-cover to pine-clad hillside he was driven
+in his attempts to break the narrowing circle of grim hunters that hemmed
+him. And with each failure, with every passing hour, the terror in him
+mounted. He would have welcomed life imprisonment, would have sold the
+last vestige of manhood to save the worthless life that would soon be
+snuffed out unless he could evade his hunters till night and in the
+darkness break through the line.
+
+He knew now that it had been a fatal mistake to bring the girl with him.
+He might have evaded Bolt's posses, but now every man within fifty miles
+was on the lookout for him. His rage turned against Kate because of it.
+Yet even in those black outbursts he felt that he must cling to her as his
+only hope of saving himself. He had made another mistake in lighting a
+campfire during the morning. Any fool ought to have known that the smoke
+would draw his hunters as the smell of carrion does a buzzard.
+
+Now he made a third error. Doubling back over an open stretch of hillside,
+he was seen again and forced into the first pocket that opened. It proved
+to be a blind gulch, one offering no exit at the upper end but a stiff
+rock climb to a bluff above.
+
+He whipped off his coat and gave it to Kate.
+
+"Put it on. Quick."
+
+Surprised, she slipped it on.
+
+"Now ride back out and cut along the edge of the hill. You've got time to
+make it all right before they close in if you travel fast. Stop once--just
+once--and I'll drop you in your tracks. Now git!"
+
+She saw his object in a flash. Wearing his gray felt hat and his coat, the
+pursuers would mistake her for him. They would follow her--perhaps shoot
+her down. Anyhow, it would be a diversion to draw them from him. Meanwhile
+he would climb the cliff and slip away unnoticed.
+
+The danger of what she had to do stood out quite clearly, but as a chance
+to get away from him she welcomed it gladly. She swung the pony with a
+touch of the rein and set him instantly at the canter. It was rough going,
+but she took it almost blindly.
+
+From the lip of the gulch she swung abruptly to the right. Her horse
+stumbled and went down just as a bullet flew over her head. Before she was
+free of the stirrups strong hands pinned her shoulders to the ground. She
+heard a glad startled cry. The rough hands became immediately gentle. Then
+things grew black. The last she remembered was that the mountains were
+dancing up and down in an odd fashion.
+
+Her eyes opened to see Curly. She was in his arms and his face was broken
+with emotions of love and tenderness.
+
+"You're not hurt," he implored.
+
+"No."
+
+"He didn't--mistreat you?" His voice was trembling as he whispered it.
+
+"No--No."
+
+And at that she broke down. A deep sob shook her body--and another. She
+buried her head on his shoulder and wept.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Without losing an instant the convict set himself at the climb. His haste,
+the swift glances shot behind him, the appalling dread that made his
+nerves ragged, delayed his speed by dissipating the singleness of his
+energy. His face and hands were torn with catclaw, his knee bruised by a
+slip against a sharp jut of quartz.
+
+When he reached the top he was panting and shaken. Before he had moved a
+dozen steps a man came out of the brush scarce seventy-five yards away and
+called to him to surrender. He flung his rifle to place and fired twice.
+
+The man staggered and steadied himself. A shell had jammed and Blackwell
+could not throw it out. He turned to run as the other fired. But he was
+too late. He stumbled, tripped, and went down full length.
+
+The man that had shot him waited for him to rise. The convict did not
+move. Cautiously the wounded hunter came forward, his eyes never lifting
+from the inert sprawling figure. Even now he half expected him to spring
+up, life and energy in every tense muscle. Not till he stood over him,
+till he saw the carelessly flung limbs, the uncouth twist to the neck,
+could he believe that so slight a crook of the finger had sent swift death
+across the plateau.
+
+The wounded man felt suddenly sick. Leaning against a rock, he steadied
+himself till the nausea was past. Voices called to him from the plain
+below. He answered, and presently circled down into the gulch which led to
+the open.
+
+At the gulch mouth he came on a little group of people. One glance told
+him all he needed to know. Kate Cullison was crying in the arms of Curly
+Flandrau. Simultaneously a man galloped up, flung himself from his horse,
+and took the young woman from her lover.
+
+"My little girl," he cried in a voice that rang with love.
+
+Luck had found his ewe lamb that was lost.
+
+It was Curly who first saw the man approaching from the gulch. "Hello,
+Cass! Did you get him?"
+
+Fendrick nodded wearily.
+
+"Dead sure?"
+
+"Yep. He's up there." The sheepman's hand swept toward the bluff.
+
+"You're wounded."
+
+"Got me in the shoulder. Nothing serious, I judge."
+
+Cullison swung around. "Sure about that, Cass?" It was the first time for
+years that he had called the other by his first name except in irony.
+
+"Sure."
+
+"Let's have a look at the shoulder."
+
+After he had done what he could for it Luck spoke bluffly. "This dashed
+feud is off, Cass. You've wiped the slate clean. When you killed Blackwell
+you put me out of a hostile camp."
+
+"I'm glad--so glad. Now we'll all be friends, won't we?" Kate cried.
+
+Cass looked at her and at Curly, both of them radiant with happiness, and
+his heart ached for what he had missed. But he smiled none the less.
+
+"Suits me if it does you."
+
+He gave one hand to Luck and the other to his daughter.
+
+Curly laughed gaily. "Everybody satisfied, I reckon,"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+LOOSE THREADS
+
+
+Curly was right when he said that those who knew about Sam's share in the
+planning of the Tin Cup hold-up would keep their mouths closed. All of the
+men implicated in the robbery were dead except Dutch. Cullison used his
+influence to get the man a light sentence, for he knew that he was not a
+criminal at heart. In return Dutch went down the line without so much as
+breathing Sam's name.
+
+Luck saw to it that Curly got all the credit of frustrating the outlaws in
+their attempt on the Flyer and of capturing them afterward. In the story
+of the rescue of Kate he played up Flandrau's part in the pursuit at the
+expense of the other riders. For September was at hand and the young man
+needed all the prestige he could get. The district attorney had no choice
+but to go on with the case of the State versus Flandrau on a charge of
+rustling horses from the Bar Double M. But public sentiment was almost a
+unit in favor of the defendant.
+
+The evidence of the prosecution was not so strong as it had been. All of
+his accomplices were dead and one of the men implicated had given it out
+in his last moments that the young man was not a party to the crime. The
+man who had owned the feed corral had sold out and gone to Colorado. The
+hotel clerk would not swear positively that the prisoner was the man he
+had seen with the other rustlers.
+
+Curly had one important asset no jury could forget. It counted for a good
+deal that Alec Flandrau, Billy Mackenzie, and Luck Cullison were known to
+be backing him, but it was worth much more that his wife of a week sat
+beside him in the courtroom. Every time they looked at the prisoner the
+jurymen saw too her dusky gallant little head and slender figure. They
+remembered the terrible experience through which she had so recently
+passed. She had come through it to happiness. Every look and motion of the
+girl wife radiated love for the young scamp who had won her. And since
+they were tender-hearted old frontiersmen they did not intend to spoil her
+joy. Moreover, society could afford to take chances with this young fellow
+Flandrau. He had been wild no doubt, but he had shown since the real stuff
+that was in him. Long before they left the box each member of the jury
+knew that he was going to vote for acquittal.
+
+It took the jury only one ballot to find a verdict of not guilty. The
+judge did not attempt to stop the uproar of glad cheers that shook the
+building when the decision was read. He knew it was not the prisoner so
+much they were cheering as the brave girl who had sat so pluckily for
+three days beside the husband she had made a man.
+
+From the courtroom Curly walked out under the blue sky of Arizona a free
+man. But he knew that the best of his good fortune was that he did not go
+alone. For all the rest of their lives her firm little steps would move
+beside him to keep him true and steady. He could not go wrong now, for he
+was anchored to a responsibility that was a continual joy and wonder to
+him.
+
+The End
+
+
+
+
+"The Books You Like to Read at the Price You Like to Pay"
+
+There Are Two Sides to Everything--
+
+--including the wrapper which covers every Grosset & Dunlap book. When you
+feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully selected list
+of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by prominent writers of
+the day which is printed on the back of every Grosset & Dunlap book
+wrapper.
+
+You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from--books for
+every mood and every taste and every pocketbook.
+
+Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write to the
+publishers for a complete catalog.
+
+There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book for every mood and for every taste
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Crooked Trails and Straight, by 
+William MacLeod Raine and D. C. Hutchison
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT ***
+
+***** This file should be named 26911-8.txt or 26911-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/9/1/26911/
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/26911-8.zip b/26911-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ce86554
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-8.zip
diff --git a/26911-h.zip b/26911-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1216f16
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-h.zip
diff --git a/26911-h/26911-h.htm b/26911-h/26911-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..22ef5e6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-h/26911-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,9886 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+<title>
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Crooked Trails and Straight, by William MacLeod Raine.
+</title>
+
+<style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
+    p                 {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;}
+    body              {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    a                 {text-decoration: none;}
+    h3                {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.1em;}
+    .pncolor          {color: silver;}
+    div.ce p          {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;}
+    .figcenter        {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;}
+    .caption          {font-size:.8em;}
+    table             {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;}
+    hr.tb             {width: 35%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;}
+    .blockquot        {margin-left:5%; margin-right:5%;}
+    .pagenum          {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;}
+    div.ra p          {text-align: right; margin: auto 0;}
+    hr.major          {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;}
+    hr.silver         {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;}
+    h2                {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.2em;}
+// -->
+/* XML end  ]]>*/
+</style>
+
+</head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Crooked Trails and Straight, by 
+William MacLeod Raine and D. C. Hutchison
+
+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: Crooked Trails and Straight
+
+Author: William MacLeod Raine
+        D. C. Hutchison
+
+Release Date: October 13, 2008 [EBook #26911]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 377px; height: 579px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 377px;'>
+<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>THIS SLENDER GIRL DUMFOUNDED THEM</span> <i>Frontispiece Page 41</i><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:2.2em; margin-top:1em;'>CROOKED TRAILS</p>
+<p style=' font-size:2.2em; margin-bottom:1em;'>AND STRAIGHT</p>
+<p>BY</p>
+<p style=' margin-bottom:1em; font-variant:small-caps;'>WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>AUTHOR OF</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>BRAND BLOTTERS, BUCKY O&#8217;CONNOR,</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>MAVERICKS, WYOMING, RIDGWAY OF</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:4em;'>MONTANA, A TEXAS RANGER, etc.</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>ILLUSTRATIONS BY</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:3em;'>D. C. HUTCHISON</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='' title=''  /><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:3em;'>GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP</p>
+<p style=' margin-bottom:1em;'>PUBLISHERS&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;NEW YORK</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:4em;'>Made in the United States of America</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Copyright, 1913, by</span></p>
+<p>G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p><i>Crooked Trails and Straight</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>CONTENTS</p>
+</div>
+
+<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'>
+<tr>
+  <td align='center' colspan='3'>PART I</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align='center' colspan='3'>CURLY</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:x-small;'>CHAPTER</span></td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align='right'><span style='font-size:x-small;'>PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Following a Crooked Trail</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_FOLLOWING_A_CROOKED_TRAIL'>9</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Camping with Old Man Trouble</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_CAMPING_WITH_OLD_MAN_TROUBLE'>23</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>At the End of the Road</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_AT_THE_END_OF_THE_ROAD'>33</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Cullisons</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_THE_CULLISONS'>49</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Laura London</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_LAURA_LONDON'>60</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Bear Trap</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_A_BEAR_TRAP'>74</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Bad Medicine</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_BAD_MEDICINE'>84</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Rehearsed Quarrel</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_A_REHEARSED_QUARREL'>94</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Eavesdropping</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_EAVESDROPPING'>110</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align='center' colspan='3'><br />PART II</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td align='center' colspan='3'><br />LUCK</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>&#8220;Stick to Your Saddle&#8221;</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X__STICK_TO_YOUR_SADDLE'>131</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>At the Round Up Club</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_AT_THE_ROUND_UP_CLUB'>143</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Luck Meets an Old Acquaintance</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_LUCK_MEETS_AN_OLD_ACQUAINTANCE'>151</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>An Initialed Hat</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_AN_INITIALED_HAT'>157</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Kate Uses Her Quirt</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_KATE_USES_HER_QUIRT'>169</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t She the Gamest Little Thoroughbred?&#8221;</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V__AIN_T_SHE_THE_GAMEST_LITTLE_THOROUGHBRED'>178</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Two Hats On A Rack</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_TWO_HATS_ON_A_RACK'>194</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Anonymous Letters</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_ANONYMOUS_LETTERS'>200</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Message in Cipher</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_A_MESSAGE_IN_CIPHER'>213</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>&#8220;The Friends of L.&nbsp;C. Serve Notice&#8221;</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX__THE_FRIENDS_OF_L_C_SERVE_NOTICE'>220</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Cass Fendrick Makes a Call</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_CASS_FENDRICK_MAKES_A_CALL'>233</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Compromise</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_A_COMPROMISE'>245</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>An Arrest</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_AN_ARREST'>254</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Conversation</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_A_CONVERSATION'>265</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Touch of the Third Degree</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_A_TOUCH_OF_THE_THIRD_DEGREE'>270</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Bob Takes a Hand</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_BOB_TAKES_A_HAND'>282</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Clean Up</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_A_CLEAN_UP'>294</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Prodigal Son</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_THE_PRODIGAL_SON'>312</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Cutting Trail</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_CUTTING_TRAIL'>316</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Good Samaritan</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_A_GOOD_SAMARITAN'>323</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XX.</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Loose Threads</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_LOOSE_THREADS'>337</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>Crooked Trails and Straight</p>
+</div>
+
+<h2>PART I</h2>
+<h3>CURLY</h3>
+
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='I_FOLLOWING_A_CROOKED_TRAIL' id='I_FOLLOWING_A_CROOKED_TRAIL'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+<h3>FOLLOWING A CROOKED TRAIL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Across Dry Valley a dust cloud had been
+moving for hours. It rolled into Saguache
+at the brisk heels of a bunch of horses just
+about the time the town was settling itself to supper.
+At the intersection of Main and La Junta
+streets the cloud was churned to a greater volume
+and density. From out of the heart of it cantered
+a rider, who swung his pony as on a half dollar,
+and deflected the remuda toward Chunn&#8217;s corral.</p>
+<p>The rider was in the broad-rimmed felt hat, the
+gray shirt, the plain leather chaps of a vaquero.
+The alkali dust of Arizona lay thick on every exposed
+inch of him, but youth bloomed inextinguishably
+through the grime. As he swept forward
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span>
+with a whoop to turn the lead horses it rang in his
+voice, announced itself in his carriage, was apparent
+in the modeling of his slim, hard body. Under
+other conditions he might have been a college freshman
+for age, but the competent confidence of manhood
+sat easily on his broad shoulders. He was already
+a graduate of that school of experience which
+always holds open session on the baked desert.
+Curly Flandrau had more than once looked into the
+chill eyes of death.</p>
+<p>The leaders of the herd dribbled into the corral
+through the open gate, and the others crowded on
+their heels. Three more riders followed Curly into
+the enclosure. Upon them, too, the desert had
+sifted its white coat. The stained withers of the
+animals they rode told of long, steady travel. One
+of them, a red-haired young fellow of about the
+same age as Curly, swung stiffly from the saddle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me for a square meal first off,&#8221; he gave out
+promptly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not till we&#8217;ve finished this business, Mac. We&#8217;ll
+put a deal right through if Warren&#8217;s here,&#8221; decided
+a third member of the party. He was a tough-looking
+customer of nearly fifty. From out of his
+leathery sun-and-wind beaten face, hard eyes
+looked without expression. &#8220;Bad Bill&#8221; Cranston
+he was called, and the man looked as if he had
+earned his sobriquet.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And what if he ain&#8217;t here?&#8221; snarled the fourth.
+&#8220;Are you aiming to sit down and wait for him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll cross that bridge when we come to it,&#8221;
+Bad Bill answered. &#8220;Curly, want to ride up to the
+hotel and ask if Mr. Dave Warren is there? Bring
+him right down if he is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And say, young fellow, don&#8217;t shout all over the
+place what your business is with him,&#8221; ordered the
+previous speaker sulkily. Lute Blackwell, a squat
+heavily muscled man of forty, had the manner of
+a bully. Unless his shifty eyes lied he was both
+cruel and vindictive.</p>
+<p>Curly&#8217;s gaze traveled over him leisurely. Not a
+muscle in the boyish face moved, but in the voice
+one might have guessed an amused contempt. &#8220;All
+right. I won&#8217;t, since you mention it, Lute.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The young man cantered up the dusty street
+toward the hotel. Blackwell trailed toward the
+windmill pump.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thought you&#8217;d fixed it with this Warren to be
+right on the spot so&#8217;s we could unload on him
+prompt,&#8221; he grumbled at Cranston without looking
+toward the latter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t promise he&#8217;d be hanging round your
+neck soon as you hit town,&#8221; Cranston retorted
+coolly. &#8220;Keep your shirt on, Lute. No use getting
+in a sweat.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The owner of the corral sauntered from the stable
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span>
+and glanced over the bunch of horses milling
+around.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Been traveling some,&#8221; he suggested to Bad Bill.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A few. Seen anything of a man named Warren
+about town to-day?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s been down here se-ve-re-al times. Said
+he was looking for a party with stock to sell.
+Might you be the outfit he&#8217;s expecting?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We might.&#8221; Bad Bill took the drinking cup
+from Blackwell and drained it. &#8220;I reckon the dust
+was caked in my throat an inch deep.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Drive all the way from the Bar Double M?&#8221;
+asked the keeper of the corral, his eyes on the
+brand stamped on the flank of a pony circling past.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yep.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bad Bill turned away and began to unsaddle. He
+did not intend to volunteer any information, though
+on the other hand he did not want to stir suspicion
+by making a mystery for gossips to chew on.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Looks like you been hitting the road at a right
+lively gait.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mac cut in. &#8220;Shoulder of my bronc&#8217;s chafed
+from the saddle. Got anything that&#8217;ll heal it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet I have.&#8221; The man hurried into the
+stable and the redheaded cowpuncher winked across
+the back of his horse at Bill.</p>
+<p>The keeper of the stable and the young man were
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span>
+still busy doctoring the sore when Curly arrived
+with Warren. The buyer was a roundbodied man
+with black gimlet eyes that saw much he never told.
+The bargain he drove was a hard one, but it did
+not take long to come to terms at about one-third
+the value of the string he was purchasing. Very
+likely he had his suspicions, but he did not voice
+them. No doubt they cut a figure in the price.
+He let it be understood that he was a supply agent
+for the rebels in Mexico. Before the bills were
+warm in the pockets of the sellers, his vaqueros
+were mounted and were moving the remuda toward
+the border.</p>
+<p>Curly and Mac helped them get started. As they
+rode back to the corral a young man came out
+from the stable. Flandrau forgot that there were
+reasons why he wanted just now to be a stranger
+in the land with his identity not advertised. He let
+out a shout.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh you, Slats Davis!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Curly! How are things a-comin&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fine. When did you blow in to Saguache?
+Ain&#8217;t you off your run some?&#8221;</p>
+<p>They had ridden the range together and had
+frolicked around on a dozen boyish larks. Their
+ways had suited each other and they had been a
+good deal more than casual bunkies. To put it
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span>
+mildly the meeting was likely to prove embarrassing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Came down to see about getting some cows
+for the old man from the Fiddleback outfit,&#8221; Davis
+explained. &#8220;Didn&#8217;t expect to bump into friends
+&#8217;way down here. You riding for the Bar Double
+M?&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was a momentary silence. Curly&#8217;s vigilant
+eyes met those of his old side partner. What did
+Slats know? Had he been in the stable while the
+remuda was still in the corral? Had he seen them
+with Bad Bill and Blackwell? Were his suspicions
+already active?</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I&#8217;m riding for the Map of Texas,&#8221; Flandrau
+answered evenly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come on, Curly. Let&#8217;s go feed our faces,&#8221; Mac
+called from the stable.</p>
+<p>Flandrau nodded. &#8220;You still with the Hashknife?&#8221;
+he asked Davis.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Still with &#8217;em. I&#8217;ve been raised to assistant
+foreman.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bully for you. That&#8217;s great. All right, Mac.
+I&#8217;m coming. That&#8217;s sure great, old hoss. Well,
+see you later, Slats.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flandrau followed Mac, dissatisfied with himself
+for leaving his friend so cavalierly. In the old days
+they had told each other everything, had talked
+things out together before many a campfire. He
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span>
+guessed Slats would be hurt, but he had to think
+of his partners in this enterprise.</p>
+<p>After supper they took a room at the hotel and
+divided the money Warren had paid for the horses.
+None of them had slept for the last fifty hours and
+Mac proposed to tumble into bed at once.</p>
+<p>Bad Bill shook his head. &#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t, Mac.
+Let&#8217;s hit the trail and do our sleeping in the hills.
+There&#8217;s too many telephone lines into this town to
+suit me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sho! We made a clean getaway, and we&#8217;re
+plumb wore out. Our play isn&#8217;t to hike out like
+we were scared stiff of something. What we want
+to do is to act as if we could look every darned
+citizen in the face. Mac&#8217;s sure right,&#8221; Curly
+agreed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You kids make me tired. As if you knew anything
+about it. I&#8217;m going to dust <i>muy pronto</i>,&#8221;
+Blackwell snarled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure. Whenever you like. You go and we&#8217;ll
+stay. Then everybody&#8217;ll be satisfied. We got to
+split up anyhow,&#8221; Mac said.</p>
+<p>Bad Bill looked at Blackwell and nodded. &#8220;That&#8217;s
+right. We don&#8217;t all want to pull a blue streak.
+That would be a dead give away. Let the kids
+stay if they want to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So as they can round on us if they&#8217;re nabbed,&#8221;
+Blackwell sneered.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></p>
+<p>Cranston called him down roughly. &#8220;That&#8217;ll be
+enough along that line, Lute. I don&#8217;t stand for
+any more cracks like it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Blackwell, not three months out from the penitentiary,
+faced the other with an ugly look in his
+eyes. He was always ready to quarrel, but he did
+not like to fight unless he had a sure thing. He
+knew Bad Bill was an ugly customer when he once
+got started.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t mean any harm,&#8221; the ex-convict growled.
+&#8220;But I don&#8217;t like this sticking around town. I tell
+you straight I don&#8217;t like it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then I wouldn&#8217;t stay if I were you,&#8221; Curly
+suggested promptly. &#8220;Mac and I have got a different
+notion. So we&#8217;ll tie to Saguache for a day or
+two.&#8221;</p>
+<p>As soon as the older men had gone the others
+tumbled into bed and fell asleep at once. Daylight
+was sifting in through the open window before their
+eyes opened. Somebody was pounding on the bedroom
+door, which probably accounted for Flandrau&#8217;s
+dream that a sheriff was driving nails in the
+lid of a coffin containing one Curly.</p>
+<p>Mac was already out of bed when his partner&#8217;s
+feet hit the floor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s up, Mac?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The eyes of the redheaded puncher gleamed with
+excitement. His six-gun was in his hand. By the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span>
+look of him he was about ready to whang loose
+through the door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hold your horses, you chump,&#8221; Curly sang out
+&#8220;It&#8217;s the hotel clerk. I left a call with him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But it was not the hotel clerk after all. Through
+the door came a quick, jerky voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That you, Curly? For God&#8217;s sake, let me in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Before he had got the words out the door was
+open. Slats came in and shut it behind him. He
+looked at Mac, the forty-five shaking in the boy&#8217;s
+hand, and he looked at Flandrau.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re after you,&#8221; he said, breathing fast as
+if he had been running.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who?&#8221; fired Curly back at him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Bar Double M boys. They just reached
+town.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Put up that gun, Mac, and move into your
+clothes immediate,&#8221; ordered Curly. Then to Davis:
+&#8220;Go on. Unload the rest. What do they know?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They inquired for you and your friend here
+down at the Legal Tender. The other members of
+your party they could only guess at.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have we got a chance to make our getaway?&#8221;
+Mac asked.</p>
+<p>Davis nodded. &#8220;Slide out through the kitchen,
+cut into the alley, and across lots to the corral.
+We&#8217;ll lock the door and I&#8217;ll hold them here long
+as I can.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Good boy, Slats. If there&#8217;s a necktie party
+you&#8217;ll get the first bid,&#8221; Curly grinned.</p>
+<p>Slats looked at him, cold and steady. Plainer
+than words he was telling his former friend that
+he would not joke with a horse thief. For the sake
+of old times he would save him if he could, but he
+would call any bluffs about the whole thing being a
+lark.</p>
+<p>Curly&#8217;s eyes fell away. It came to him for the
+first time that he was no longer an honest man.
+Up till this escapade he had been only wild, but now
+he had crossed the line that separates decent folks
+from outlaws. He had been excited with liquor
+when he joined in this fool enterprise, but that
+made no difference now. He was a rustler, a horse
+thief. If he lived a hundred years he could never
+get away from the disgrace of it.</p>
+<p>Not another word was said while they hurried
+into their clothes. But as Curly passed out of the
+door he called back huskily. &#8220;Won&#8217;t forget what
+you done for us, Slats.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Again their eyes met. Davis did not speak, but
+the chill look on his face told Flandrau that he
+had lost a friend.</p>
+<p>The two young men ran down the back stairs,
+passed through the kitchen where a Chinese cook
+was getting breakfast, and out into the bright sunlight.
+Before they cut across to the corral their
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span>
+eyes searched for enemies. Nobody was in sight
+except the negro janitor of a saloon busy putting
+empty bottles into a barrel.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Won&#8217;t do to be in any hurry. The play is we&#8217;re
+gentlemen of leisure, just out for an amble to get
+the mo&#8217;ning air,&#8221; Curly cautioned.</p>
+<p>While they fed, watered, and saddled they
+swapped gossip with the wrangler. It would not
+do to leave the boy with a story of two riders in
+such a hurry to hit the trail that they could not wait
+to feed their bronchos. So they stuck it out while
+the animals ate, though they were about as contented
+as a two-pound rainbow trout on a hook.
+One of them was at the door all the time to make
+sure the way was still clear. At that they shaved
+it fine, for as they rode away two men were coming
+down the street.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Kite Bonfils,&#8221; Curly called to his partner.</p>
+<p>No explanation was needed. Bonfils was the
+foreman of the Bar Double M. He let out a shout
+as he caught sight of them and began to run forward.
+Simultaneously his gun seemed to jump from
+its holster.</p>
+<p>Mac&#8217;s quirt sang and his pony leaped to a canter
+in two strides. A bullet zipped between them. Another
+struck the dust at their heels. Faintly there
+came to the fugitives the sound of the foreman&#8217;s
+impotent curses. They had escaped for the time.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></p>
+<p>Presently they passed the last barb wire fence and
+open country lay before them. It did not greatly
+matter which direction they followed, so long as
+they headed into the desert.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What we&#8217;re looking for is a country filled with
+absentees,&#8221; Curly explained with a grin.</p>
+<p>Neither of them had ever been in serious trouble
+before and both regretted the folly that had turned
+their drunken spree into a crime. Once or twice
+they came to the edge of a quarrel, for Mac was
+ready to lay the blame on his companion. Moreover,
+he had reasons why the thing he had done
+loomed up as a heinous offense.</p>
+<p>His reasons came out before the camp fire on
+Dry Sandy that evening. They were stretched in
+front of it trying to make a smoke serve instead
+of supper. Mac broke a gloomy silence to grunt
+out jerkily a situation he could no longer keep to
+himself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s where I get my walking papers I reckon.
+No rustlers need apply.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly shot a slant glance at him. &#8220;Meaning&mdash;the
+girl?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The redheaded puncher nodded. &#8220;She&#8217;ll throw
+me down sure. Why shouldn&#8217;t she? I tell you
+I&#8217;ve ruined my life. You&#8217;re only a kid. What you
+know about it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He took from his coat pocket a photograph and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span>
+showed it to his friend. The sweet clean face of
+a wholesome girl smiled at Curly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s ce&#8217;tainly a right nice young lady. I&#8217;ll bet
+she stands by you all right. Where&#8217;s she live
+at?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Waits in a restaurant at Tombstone. We was
+going to be married soon as we had saved five
+hundred dollars.&#8221; Mac swallowed hard. &#8220;And I
+had to figure out this short cut to the money whilst
+I was drunk. As if she&#8217;d look at money made
+that way. Why, we&#8217;d a-been ready by Christmas
+if I&#8217;d only waited.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly tried to cheer him up, but did not make
+much of a job at it. The indisputable facts were
+that Mac was an outlaw and a horse thief. Very
+likely a price was already on his head.</p>
+<p>The redheaded boy rolled another cigarette despondently.
+&#8220;Sho! I&#8217;ve cooked my goose. She&#8217;ll
+not look at me&mdash;even if they don&#8217;t send me to the
+pen.&#8221; In a moment he added huskily, staring into
+the deepening darkness: &#8220;And she&#8217;s the best ever.
+Her name&#8217;s Myra Anderson.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Abruptly Mac got up and disappeared in the
+night, muttering something about looking after the
+horses. His partner understood well enough what
+was the matter. The redheaded puncher was in a
+stress of emotion, and like the boy he was he did
+not want Curly to know it.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></p>
+<p>Flandrau pretended to be asleep when Mac returned
+half an hour later.</p>
+<p>They slept under a live oak with the soundness
+of healthy youth. For the time they forgot their
+troubles. Neither of them knew that as the hours
+slipped away red tragedy was galloping closer to
+them.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='II_CAMPING_WITH_OLD_MAN_TROUBLE' id='II_CAMPING_WITH_OLD_MAN_TROUBLE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+<h3>CAMPING WITH OLD MAN TROUBLE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The sun was shining in his face when Curly
+wakened. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Mac
+was nowhere in sight. Probably he had gone to
+get the horses.</p>
+<p>A sound broke the stillness of the desert. It
+might have been the explosion of a giant firecracker,
+but Flandrau knew it was nothing so harmless.
+He leaped to his feet, and at the same instant
+Mac came running over the brow of the hill.
+A smoking revolver was in his hand.</p>
+<p>From behind the hill a gun cracked&mdash;then a
+second&mdash;and a third. Mac stumbled over his feet
+and pitched forward full length on the ground.
+His friend ran toward him, forgetting the revolver
+that lay in its holster under the live oak. Every
+moment he expected to see Mac jump up, but the
+figure stretched beside the cholla never moved.
+Flandrau felt the muscles round his heart tighten.
+He had seen sudden death before, but never had
+it come so near home.</p>
+<p>A bullet sent up a spurt of dust in front of him,
+another just on the left. Riders were making a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span>
+half circle around the knoll and closing in on him.
+In his right mind Curly would have been properly
+frightened. But now he thought only of Mac lying
+there so still in the sand. Right into the fire zone
+he ran, knelt beside his partner, and lifted the red-thatched
+head. A little hole showed back of the
+left ear and another at the right temple. A bullet
+had plowed through the boy&#8217;s skull.</p>
+<p>Softly Flandrau put the head back in the sand
+and rose to his feet. The revolver of the dead
+puncher was in his hand. The attackers had stopped
+shooting, but when they saw him rise a rifle puffed
+once more. The riders were closing in on him now.
+The nearest called to him to surrender. Almost
+at the same time a red hot pain shot through the
+left arm of the trapped rustler. Someone had
+nipped him from the rear.</p>
+<p>Curly saw red. Surrender nothing! He would
+go down fighting. As fast as he could blaze he
+emptied Mac&#8217;s gun. When the smoke cleared the
+man who had ordered him to give up was slipping
+from his horse. Curly was surprised, but he knew
+he must have hit him by chance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We got him. His gun&#8217;s empty,&#8221; someone
+shouted.</p>
+<p>Cautiously they closed in, keeping him covered
+all the time. Of a sudden the plain tilted up to
+meet the sky. Flandrau felt himself swaying on
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span>
+his feet. Everything went black. The boy had
+fainted.</p>
+<p>When he came to himself strange faces were all
+around him, and there were no bodies to go with
+them. They seemed to float about in an odd casual
+sort of way. Then things cleared.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s coming to all right,&#8221; one said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good. I&#8217;d hate to have him cheat the rope,&#8221;
+another cried with an oath.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s right. How is Cullison?&#8221;</p>
+<p>This was said to another who had just come up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hard hit. Looks about all in. Got him in
+the side.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The rage had died out of Curly. In a flash he
+saw all that had come of their drunken spree: the
+rustling of the Bar Double M stock, the discovery,
+the death of his friend and maybe of Cullison, the
+certain punishment that would follow. He was a
+horse thief caught almost in the act. Perhaps he
+was a murderer too. And the whole thing had
+been entirely unpremeditated.</p>
+<p>Flandrau made a movement to rise and they
+jerked him to his feet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve played hell,&#8221; one of the men told the
+boy.</p>
+<p>He was a sawed-off little fellow known as Dutch.
+Flandrau had seen him in the Map of Texas country
+try a year or two before. The rest were strangers
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span>
+to the boy. All of them looked at him out of hard
+hostile eyes. He was scarcely a human being to
+them; rather a wolf to be stamped out of existence
+as soon as it was convenient. A chill ran down
+Curly&#8217;s spine. He felt as if someone were walking
+on his grave.</p>
+<p>At a shift in the group Flandrau&#8217;s eyes fell on
+his friend lying in the sand with face turned whitely
+to the sky he never would see again. It came over
+him strangely enough how Mac used to break into
+a little chuckling laugh when he was amused. He
+had quit laughing now for good and all. A lump
+came into the boy&#8217;s throat and he had to work it
+down before he spoke.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a picture in his pocket, and some letters
+I reckon. Send them to Miss Myra Anderson,
+Tombstone, care of one of the restaurants. I don&#8217;t
+know which one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Send nothin&#8217;,&#8221; sneered Dutch, and coupled it
+with a remark no decent man makes of a woman
+on a guess.</p>
+<p>Because of poor Mac lying there with the little
+hole in his temple Curry boiled over. With a jerk
+his right arm was free. It shot out like a pile-driver,
+all his weight behind the blow. Dutch went
+down as if a charging bull had flung him.</p>
+<p>Almost simultaneously Curly hit the sand hard.
+Before he could stir three men were straddled over
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span>
+his anatomy. One of them ground his head into
+the dust.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You would, eh? We&#8217;ll see about that. Jake,
+bring yore rope.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They tied the hands of the boy, hauled him to his
+feet, and set him astride a horse. In the distance
+a windmill of the Circle C ranch was shining in
+the morning sun. Toward the group of buildings
+clustered around this two of his captors started
+with Flandrau. A third was already galloping
+toward the ranch house to telephone for a doctor.</p>
+<p>As they rode along a fenced lane which led to
+the house a girl came flying down the steps. She
+swung herself to the saddle just vacated by the
+messenger and pulled the horse round for a start.
+At sight of those coming toward her she called
+out quickly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How is dad?&#8221; The quiver of fear broke in her
+voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217; know yet, Miss Kate,&#8221; answered one of
+the men. &#8220;He&#8217;s right peart though. Says for to
+tell you not to worry. Don&#8217;t you, either. We&#8217;ve
+got here the mangy son of a gun that did it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Before he had finished she was off like an arrow
+shot from a bow, but not until her eyes had fallen
+on the youth sitting bareheaded and bloody between
+the guns of his guard. Curly noticed that she had
+given a shudder, as one might at sight of a mangled
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span>
+mad dog which had just bit a dear friend. Long
+after the pounding of her pony&#8217;s hoofs had died
+away the prisoner could see the startled eyes of fear
+and horror that had rested on him. As Curly kicked
+his foot out of the stirrup to dismount a light spring
+wagon rolled past him. In its bed were a mattress
+and pillows. The driver whipped up the horse and
+went across the prairie toward Dry Sandy Creek.
+Evidently he was going to bring home the wounded
+man.</p>
+<p>His guards put Flandrau in the bunk house and
+one of them sat at the door with a rifle across his
+knees. The cook, the stable boy, and redheaded
+Bob Cullison, a nephew of the owner of the ranch,
+peered past the <i>vaquero</i> at the captive with the same
+awe they would have yielded to a caged panther.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, he&#8217;s only a kid, Buck,&#8221; the cook whispered.</p>
+<p>Buck chewed tobacco impassively. &#8220;Old enough
+to be a rustler and a killer.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bob&#8217;s blue eyes were wide with interest &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+bet he&#8217;s a regular Billy the Kid,&#8221; murmured the
+half-grown boy to the other lad.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure. Course he is. He&#8217;s got bad eyes all
+right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll bet he&#8217;s got notches on his gun. Say, if
+Uncle Luck dies&mdash;&#8221; Bob left the result to the
+imagination.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></p>
+<p>The excitement at the Circle C increased. Horses
+cantered up. Men shouted to each other the news.
+Occasionally some one came in to have a look at
+the &#8220;bad man&#8221; who had shot Luck Cullison. Young
+Flandrau lay on a cot and stared at the ceiling,
+paying no more attention to them than if they had
+been blocks of wood. It took no shrewdness to see
+that there burned in them a still cold anger toward
+him that might easily find expression in lynch
+law.</p>
+<p>The crunch of wagon wheels over disintegrated
+granite drifted to the bunk house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re bringing the boss back,&#8221; Buck announced
+from the door to one of his visitors.</p>
+<p>The man joined him and looked over his shoulder.
+&#8220;Miss Kate there too?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yep. Say, if the old man don&#8217;t pull through
+it will break her all up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The boy on the bed turned his face to the wall.
+He had not cried for ten years, but now he would
+have liked the relief of tears. The luck had broken
+bad for him, but it would be the worst ever if
+his random shot were to make Kate Cullison an
+orphan. A big lump rose in his throat and would
+not stay down. The irony of it was that he was
+staged for the part of a gray wolf on the howl,
+while he felt more like a little child that has lost
+its last friend.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span></p>
+<p>After a time there came again the crisp roll of
+wheels.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doc Brown,&#8221; announced Buck casually to the
+other men in the bunk house.</p>
+<p>There was more than one anxious heart at the
+Circle C waiting for the verdict of the bowlegged
+baldheaded little man with the satchel, but not one
+of them&mdash;no, not even Kate Cullison herself&mdash;was
+in a colder fear than Curly Flandrau. He was
+entitled to a deep interest, for if Cullison should
+die he knew that he would follow him within a
+few hours. These men would take no chances with
+the delays of the law.</p>
+<p>The men at the bunk house had offered more
+than once to look at Curly&#8217;s arm, but the young man
+declined curtly. The bleeding had stopped, but
+there was a throb in it as if someone were twisting
+a red-hot knife in the wound. After a time Doctor
+Brown showed up in the doorway of the men&#8217;s
+quarters.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Another patient here, they tell me,&#8221; he grunted
+in the brusque way that failed to conceal the kindest
+of hearts.</p>
+<p>Buck nodded toward Flandrau.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s have a look at your arm, young fellow,&#8221;
+the doctor ordered, mopping his bald head with a
+big bandanna handkerchief.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What about the boss?&#8221; asked Jake presently.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Mighty sick man, looks like. Tell you more
+to-morrow morning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean that he&mdash;that he may not get
+well?&#8221; Curly pumped out, his voice not quite
+steady.</p>
+<p>Doctor Brown looked at him curiously. Somehow
+this boy did not fit the specifications of the
+desperado that had been poured into his ears.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t know yet. Won&#8217;t make any promises.&#8221;
+He had been examining the wound in a businesslike
+way. &#8220;Looks like the bullet&#8217;s still in there.
+Have to give you an anesthetic while I dig it out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothin&#8217; doing,&#8221; retorted Flandrau. &#8220;You
+round up the pill in there and I&#8217;ll stand the grief.
+When this lead hypodermic jabbed into my arm
+it sorter gave me one of them annie-what-d&#8217;ye-call-&#8217;em&mdash;and
+one&#8217;s a-plenty for me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;ll hurt,&#8221; the little man explained.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Expect I&#8217;ll find that out. Go to it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Brown had not been for thirty years carrying
+a medicine case across the dusty deserts of the
+frontier without learning to know men. He made
+no further protest but set to work.</p>
+<p>Twenty minutes later Curly lay back on the bunk
+with a sudden faintness. He was very white about
+the lips, but he had not once flinched from the instruments.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span></p>
+<p>The doctor washed his hands and his tools, pulled
+on his coat, and came across to the patient.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Feeling like a fighting cock, are you? Ready to
+tackle another posse?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not quite.&#8221; The prisoner glanced toward his
+guards and his voice fell to a husky whisper. &#8220;Say,
+Doc. Pull Cullison through. Don&#8217;t let him die.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hmp! Do my best, young fellow. Seems to
+me you&#8217;re thinking of that pretty late.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Brown took up his medicine case and went back
+to the house.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='III_AT_THE_END_OF_THE_ROAD' id='III_AT_THE_END_OF_THE_ROAD'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+<h3>AT THE END OF THE ROAD</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Curly&#8217;s wooden face told nothing of what he
+was thinking. The first article of the creed of the
+frontier is to be game. Good or bad, the last test
+of a man is the way he takes his medicine. So now
+young Flandrau ate his dinner with a hearty appetite,
+smoked cigarettes impassively, and occasionally
+chatted with his guards casually and as a matter
+of course. Deep within him was a terrible feeling
+of sickness at the disaster that had overwhelmed
+him, but he did not intend to play the quitter.</p>
+<p>Dutch and an old fellow named Sweeney relieved
+the other watchers about noon. The squat puncher
+came up and looked down angrily at the boy lying
+on the bunk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll serve notice right now that if you make any
+breaks I&#8217;ll fill your carcass full of lead,&#8221; he growled.</p>
+<p>The prisoner knew that he was nursing a grudge
+for the blow that had floored him. Not to be
+bluffed, Curly came back with a jeer. &#8220;Much
+obliged, my sawed-off and hammered-down friend.
+But what&#8217;s the matter with your face? It looks
+some lopsided. Did a mule kick you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Sweeney gave his companion the laugh. &#8220;Better
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span>
+let him alone, Dutch. If he lands on you again
+like he did before your beauty ce&#8217;tainly will be
+spoiled complete.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The little puncher&#8217;s eyes snapped rage. &#8220;You&#8217;ll
+get yours pretty soon, Mr. Curly Flandrau. The
+boys are fixin&#8217; to hang yore hide up to dry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Does look that way, doesn&#8217;t it?&#8221; the boy agreed
+quietly.</p>
+<p>As the day began to wear out it looked so more
+than ever. Two riders from the Bar Double M
+reached the ranch and were brought in to identify
+him as the horse thief. The two were Maloney
+and Kite Bonfils, neither of them friends of the
+young rustler. The foreman in particular was a
+wet blanket to his chances. The man&#8217;s black eyes
+were the sort that never soften toward the follies
+and mistakes of youth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve got the right man all right,&#8221; he said to
+Buck without answering Flandrau&#8217;s cool nod of
+recognition.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What sort of a reputation has he got?&#8221; Buck
+asked, lowering his voice a little.</p>
+<p>Kite did not take the trouble to lower his. &#8220;Bad.
+Always been a tough character. Friend of Bad Bill
+Cranston and Soapy Stone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dutch chipped in. &#8220;Shot up the Silver Dollar
+saloon onct. Pretty near beat Pete Schiff&#8217;s head
+off another time.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span></p>
+<p>Curly laughed rather wildly. &#8220;That&#8217;s right.
+Keep a-coming, boys. Your turn now, Maloney.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. Might as well have it all,&#8221; Buck
+agreed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know anything against the kid, barring
+that he&#8217;s been a little wild,&#8221; Maloney testified. &#8220;And
+I reckon we ain&#8217;t any of us prize Sunday school
+winners for that matter.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are we all friends of Soapy Stone and Bad
+Bill? Do we all rustle stock and shoot up good
+citizens?&#8221; Dutch shrilled.</p>
+<p>Maloney&#8217;s blue Irish eyes rested on the little
+puncher for a moment, then passed on as if he had
+been weighed and found wanting.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve noticed,&#8221; he said to nobody in particular,
+&#8220;that them hollering loudest for justice are most
+generally the ones that would hate to have it done
+to them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dutch bristled like a turkey rooster. &#8220;What do
+you mean by that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Irishman smiled derisively. &#8220;I reckon you
+can guess if you try real hard.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dutch fumed, but did no guessing out loud. His
+reputation was a whitewashed one. Queer stories
+had been whispered about him. He had been a
+nester, and it was claimed that calves certainly not
+his had been found carrying his brand. The man
+had been full of explanations, but there came a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span>
+time when explanations no longer were accepted.
+He was invited to become an absentee at his earliest
+convenience. This was when he had been living
+across the mountains. Curly had been one of those
+who had given the invitation. He had taken the
+hint and left without delay. Now he was paying
+the debt he owed young Flandrau.</p>
+<p>Though the role Curly had been given was that
+of the hardened desperado he could not quite live
+up to the part. As Buck turned to leave the bunk
+house the boy touched him on the arm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How about Cullison?&#8221; he asked, very low.</p>
+<p>But Buck would not have it that way. &#8220;What
+about him?&#8221; he demanded out load, his voice grating
+like steel when it grinds.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is he&mdash;how is he doing?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s eatin&#8217; you? Ain&#8217;t he dying fast enough
+to suit you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flandrau shrank from the cruel words, as a
+schoolboy does from his teacher when he jumps at
+him with a cane. He understood how the men were
+feeling, but to have it put into words like this
+cut him deeply.</p>
+<p>It was then that Maloney made a friend of the
+young man for life. He let a hand drop carelessly
+on Curly&#8217;s shoulder and looked at him with a
+friendly smile in his eyes, just as if he knew that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span>
+this was no wolf but a poor lost dog up against it
+hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doc thinks he&#8217;ll make it all right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But there were times when Curly wondered
+whether it would make any difference to him
+whether Cullison got well or not. Something immediate
+was in the air. Public opinion was sifting
+down to a decision. There were wise nods, and
+whisperings, and men riding up and going off again
+in a hurry. There had been a good deal of lawlessness
+of late, for which Soapy Stone&#8217;s band of
+followers was held responsible. Just as plainly as
+if he had heard the arguments of Dutch and Kite
+Bonfils he knew that they were urging the others to
+make an example of him. Most of these men were
+well up to the average for the milk of human kindness.
+They were the squarest citizens in Arizona.
+But Flandrau knew they would snuff out his life
+just the same if they decided it was best. Afterward
+they might regret it, but that would not help
+him.</p>
+<p>Darkness came, and the lamps were lit. Again
+Curly ate and smoked and chatted a little with his
+captors. But as he sat there hour after hour, feeling
+death creep closer every minute, cold shivers ran
+up and down his spine.</p>
+<p>They began to question him, at first casually and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span>
+carelessly, so it seemed to Curly. But presently he
+discerned a drift in the talk. They were trying to
+find out who had been his partners in the rustling.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I reckon Soapy and Bad Bill left you lads
+at Saguache to hold the sack,&#8221; Buck suggested
+sympathetically.</p>
+<p>Curly grew wary. He did not intend to betray
+his accomplices. &#8220;Wrong guess. Soapy and Bad
+Bill weren&#8217;t in this deal,&#8221; he answered easily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We know there were two others in it with you.
+I guess they were Soapy and Bad Bill all right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s no law against guessing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The foreman of the Bar Double M interrupted
+impatiently, tired of trying to pump out the information
+by finesse. &#8220;You&#8217;ve got to speak, Flandrau.
+You&#8217;ve got to tell us who was engineering this
+theft. Understand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The young rustler looked at the grim frowning
+face and his heart sank. &#8220;Got to tell you, have I?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Out with it,&#8221; ordered Buck.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I expect I&#8217;ll keep that under my hat,&#8221; Curly
+told them lightly.</p>
+<p>They were crowded about him in a half circle,
+nearly a score of hard leather-faced plainsmen.
+Some of them were riders of the Circle C outfit.
+Others had ridden over from neighboring ranches.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span>
+All of them plainly meant business. They meant
+to stamp out rustling, and their determination had
+been given an edge by the wounding of Luck Cullison,
+the most popular man in the county.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Think again, Curly,&#8221; advised Sweeney quietly.
+&#8220;The boys ain&#8217;t trifling about this thing. They
+mean to find out who was in the rustling of the
+Bar Double M stock.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not through me, they won&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Through you. And right now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A dozen times during the evening Curly had
+crushed down the desire to beg for mercy, to cry
+out desperately for them to let him off. He had
+kept telling himself not to show yellow, that it
+would not last long. Now the fear of breaking
+down sloughed from his soul. He rose from the
+bed and looked round at the brown faces circled
+about him in the shine of the lamps.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll not tell you a thing&mdash;not a thing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He stood there chalk-faced, his lips so dry that
+he had to keep moistening them with the tip of
+his tongue. Two thoughts hammered in his head.
+One was that he had come to the end of his trail,
+the other that he would game it out without weakening.</p>
+<p>Dutch had a new rope in his hand with a loop at
+one end. He tossed it over the boy&#8217;s head and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span>
+drew it taut. Two or three of the faces in the
+circle were almost as bloodless as that of the prisoner,
+but they were set to see the thing out.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you tell now?&#8221; Bonfils asked.</p>
+<p>Curly met him eye to eye. &#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come along then.&#8221;</p>
+<p>One of the men caught his arm at the place
+where he had been wounded. The rustler flinched.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Careful, Buck. Don&#8217;t you see you&#8217;re hurting
+his bad arm?&#8221; Sweeney said sharply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure. Take him right under the shoulder.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s no call to be rough with him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t aim to hurt him,&#8221; Buck defended himself.</p>
+<p>His grip was loose and easy now. Like the
+others he was making it up to his conscience for
+what he meant to do by doing it in the kindest way
+possible.</p>
+<p>Curly&#8217;s senses had never been more alert. He
+noticed that Buck had on a red necktie that had got
+loose from his shirt and climbed up his neck. It
+had black polka dots and was badly frayed. Sweeney
+was chewing tobacco. He would have that chew
+in his mouth after they had finished what they were
+going to do.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t he the gamest ever?&#8221; someone whispered.</p>
+<p>The rustler heard the words and they braced him
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span>
+as a drink of whiskey does a man who has been on
+a bad spree. His heart was chill with fear, but he
+had strung his will not to let him give way.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better do it at the cottonwoods down by the
+creek,&#8221; Buck told Bonfils in a low voice.</p>
+<p>The foreman of the Bar Double M moved his
+head in assent. &#8220;All right. Let&#8217;s get it over quick
+as we can.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A sound of flying feet came from outside. Someone
+smothered an oath of surprise. Kate Cullison
+stood in the doorway, all out of breath and panting.</p>
+<p>She took the situation in before she spoke, guessed
+exactly what they intended to do. Yet she flung
+her imperious question at them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>They had not a word to say for themselves. In
+that room were some of the most callous hearts in
+the territory. Not one man in a million could have
+phased them, but this slender girl dumfounded them.
+Her gaze settled on Buck. His wandered for help
+to Sweeney, to Jake, to Kite Bonfils.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now look-a-here, Miss Kate,&#8221; Sweeney began
+to explain.</p>
+<p>But she swept his remonstrance aside.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;No&mdash;No!&#8221; Her voice gathered strength
+with each repetition of the word. &#8220;I won&#8217;t have it.
+What are you thinking about?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></p>
+<p>To the boy with the rope around his neck she
+was an angel from heaven as she stood there so slim
+and straight, her dark eyes shining like stars. Some
+of these men were old enough to be her father.
+Any of them could have crushed her with one hand.
+But if a thunderbolt had crashed in their midst it
+could not have disturbed the vigilantes more.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s a rustler, Miss Kate; belongs to Soapy
+Stone&#8217;s outfit,&#8221; Sweeney answered the girl.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can you prove it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We got him double cinched.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then let the law put him in prison.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He shot yore paw,&#8221; Buck reminded her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is that why you&#8217;re doing it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes&#8217;m,&#8221; and &#8220;That&#8217;s why,&#8221; they nodded.</p>
+<p>Like a flash she took advantage of their admission.
+&#8220;Then I&#8217;ve got more against him than you
+have, and I say turn him over to the law.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;d get a good lawyer and wiggle out,&#8221; Dutch
+objected.</p>
+<p>She whirled on the little puncher. &#8220;You know
+how that is, do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Somebody laughed. It was known that Dutch
+had once been tried for stealing a sheep and had
+been acquitted.</p>
+<p>Kite pushed forward, rough and overbearing.
+&#8220;Now see here. We know what we&#8217;re doing and
+we know why we&#8217;re doing it. This ain&#8217;t any business
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span>
+for a girl to mix in. You go back to the house
+and nurse your father that this man shot.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So it isn&#8217;t the kind of business for a girl,&#8221; she
+answered scornfully. &#8220;It&#8217;s work for a man, isn&#8217;t
+it? No, not for one. For nine&mdash;eleven&mdash;thirteen&mdash;seventeen
+big brave strong men to hang one poor
+wounded boy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Again that amused laugh rippled out. It came
+from Maloney. He was leaning against the door
+jamb with his hands in his pockets. Nobody had
+noticed him before. He had come in after the girl.
+When Curly came to think it over later, if he had
+been given three guesses as to who had told Kate
+Cullison what was on the program he would have
+guessed Maloney each time.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now that you&#8217;ve relieved your mind proper,
+Miss Cullison, I expect any of the boys will be glad
+to escort you back to the house,&#8221; Kite suggested
+with an acid smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What have you got to do with this?&#8221; she flamed.
+&#8220;Our boys took him. They brought him here as
+their prisoner. Do you think we&#8217;ll let you come
+over into this county and dictate everything we
+do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got a notion tucked away that you&#8217;re trying
+to do the dictating your own self,&#8221; the Bar
+Double M man contradicted.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not. But I won&#8217;t stand by while you get
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span>
+these boys to do murder. If they haven&#8217;t sense
+enough to keep them from it I&#8217;ve got to stop it
+myself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kite laughed sarcastically. &#8220;You hear your boss,
+boys.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve had yore say now, Miss Kate. I reckon
+you better say good-night,&#8221; advised Buck.</p>
+<p>She handed Buck and his friends her compliments
+in a swift flow of feminine ferocity.</p>
+<p>Maloney pushed into the circle. &#8220;She&#8217;s dead
+right, boys. There&#8217;s nothing to this lynching game.
+He&#8217;s only a kid.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s not such a kid but what he can do murder,&#8221;
+Dutch spat out.</p>
+<p>Kate read him the riot act so sharply that the
+little puncher had not another word to say. The
+tide of opinion was shifting. Those who had been
+worked up to the lynching by the arguments of
+Bonfils began to resent his activity. Flandrau was
+their prisoner, wasn&#8217;t he? No use going off half
+cocked. Some of them were discovering that they
+were not half so anxious to hang him as they had
+supposed.</p>
+<p>The girl turned to her friends and neighbors. &#8220;I
+oughtn&#8217;t to have talked to you that way, but you
+know how worried I am about Dad,&#8221; she apologized
+with a catch in her breath. &#8220;I&#8217;m sure you didn&#8217;t
+think or you would never have done anything to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span>
+trouble me more just now. You know I didn&#8217;t half
+mean it.&#8221; She looked from one to another, her
+eyes shiny with tears. &#8220;I know that no braver or
+kinder men live than you. Why, you&#8217;re my folks.
+I&#8217;ve been brought up among you. And so you&#8217;ve
+got to forgive me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Some said &#8220;Sure,&#8221; others told her to forget it,
+and one grass widower drew a laugh by saying that
+her little spiel reminded him of happier days.</p>
+<p>For the first time a smile lit her face. The boy
+for whose life she was pleading thought it was like
+sunshine after a storm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so glad you&#8217;ve changed your minds. I knew
+you would when you thought it over,&#8221; she told them
+chattily and confidentially.</p>
+<p>She was taking their assent for granted. Now
+she waited and gave them a chance to chorus their
+agreement. None of them spoke except Maloney.
+Most of them were with her in sympathy but none
+wanted to be first in giving way. Each wanted
+to save his face, so that the others could not later
+blame him for quitting first.</p>
+<p>She looked around from one to another, still
+cheerful and sure of her ground apparently. Two
+steps brought her directly in front of one. She
+caught him by the lapels of his coat and looked
+straight into his eyes. &#8220;You <i>have</i> changed your
+mind, haven&#8217;t you, Jake?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span></p>
+<p>The big Missourian twisted his hat in embarrassment.
+&#8220;I reckon I have, Miss Kate. Whatever the
+other boys say,&#8221; he got out at last.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Haven&#8217;t you a mind of your own, Jake?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure. Whatever&#8217;s right suits me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, you know what is right, don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I expect.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you won&#8217;t hurt this man, our prisoner?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t a thing against him if you haven&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you won&#8217;t hurt him? You won&#8217;t stand by
+and let the other boys do it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, Miss Kate&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>She burst into sudden tears. &#8220;I thought you
+were my friend, but now I&#8217;m in trouble you&mdash;you
+think only of making it worse. I&#8217;m worried to
+death about Dad&mdash;and you&mdash;you make me stay here&mdash;away
+from him&mdash;and torment me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jake gave in immediately and the rest followed
+like a flock of sheep. Two or three of the promises
+came hard, but she did not stop till each one individually
+had pledged himself. And all the time
+she was cajoling them, explaining how good it was
+of them to think of avenging her father, how in
+one way she did not blame them at all, though of
+course they had seen it would not do as soon as
+they gave the matter a second thought. Dad would
+be so pleased at them when he heard about it, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span>
+she wanted them to know how much she liked and
+admired them. It was quite a love feast.</p>
+<p>The young man she had saved could not keep his
+eyes from her. He would have liked to kneel down
+and kiss the edge of her dress and put his curly
+head in the dust before her. The ice in his heart
+had melted in the warmth of a great emotion. She
+was standing close to him talking to Buck when
+he spoke in a low voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I reckon I can&#8217;t tell you&mdash;how much I&#8217;m obliged
+to you, Miss.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She drew back quickly as if he had been a snake
+about to strike, her hand instinctively gathering
+her skirts so that they would not brush against him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t want your thanks,&#8221; she told him, and
+her voice was like the drench of an icy wave.</p>
+<p>But when she saw the hurt in his eyes she hesitated.
+Perhaps she guessed that he was human
+after all, for an impulse carried her forward to
+take the rope from his neck. While his heart beat
+twice her soft fingers touched his throat and grazed
+his cheek. Then she turned and was gone from
+the room.</p>
+<p>It was a long time before the bunk house quieted.
+Curly, faint with weariness, lay down and tried to
+sleep. His arm was paining a good deal and he
+felt feverish. The men of the Circle C and their
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span>
+guests sat down and argued the whole thing over.
+But after a time the doctor came in and had the
+patient carried to the house. He was put in a good
+clean bed and his arm dressed again.</p>
+<p>The doctor brought him good news. &#8220;Cullison
+is doing fine. He has dropped into a good sleep.
+He&#8217;d ought to make it all right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly thought about the girl who had fought for
+his life.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll not let him die, Doc,&#8221; he begged.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s too tough for that, Luck Cullison is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Presently Doctor Brown gave him a sleeping
+powder and left him. Soon after that Curly fell
+asleep and dreamed about a slim dark girl with fine
+longlashed eyes that could be both tender and ferocious.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='IV_THE_CULLISONS' id='IV_THE_CULLISONS'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<h3>THE CULLISONS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Curly was awakened by the sound of the cook
+beating the call to breakfast on a triangle. Buck
+was standing beside the bed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How&#8217;re they coming this glad mo&#8217;ning, son?&#8221;
+he inquired with a grin.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fine and dandy,&#8221; grinned back Flandrau.</p>
+<p>So he was, comparatively speaking. The pain
+in his arm had subsided. He had had a good sleep.
+And he was lying comfortably in a clean bed instead
+of hanging by the neck from the limb of
+one of the big cottonwoods on the edge of the
+creek.</p>
+<p>A memory smote him and instantly he was grave
+again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How is Cullison?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good as the wheat, doc says. Mighty lucky for
+Mr. C. Flandrau that he is. Say, I&#8217;m to be yore
+valley and help you into them clothes. Git a wiggle
+on you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Buck escorted his prisoner over to the ranch mess
+house. The others had finished breakfast but
+Maloney was still eating. His mouth was full of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span>
+hot cakes, but he nodded across at Curly in a casual
+friendly way.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How&#8217;s the villain in the play this mo&#8217;ning?&#8221; he
+inquired.</p>
+<p>Twenty-one usually looks on the cheerful side
+of life. Curly had forgotten for the moment about
+what had happened to his friend Mac. He did not
+remember that he was in the shadow of a penitentiary
+sentence. The sun was shining out of a
+deep blue sky. The vigor of youth flowed through
+his veins. He was hungry and a good breakfast was
+before him. For the present these were enough.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me, I&#8217;m feeling a heap better than I was last
+night,&#8221; he admitted.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Came pretty near losing him out of the cast,
+didn&#8217;t we?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Might a-turned out that way if the stage manager
+had not remembered the right cue in time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly was looking straight into the eyes twinkling
+across the table at him. Maloney knew that
+the young fellow was thanking him for having
+saved his life. He nodded lightly, but his words
+still seemed to make a jest of the situation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Enter the heroine. Spotlight. Sa-a-ved,&#8221; he
+drawled.</p>
+<p>The heart of the prisoner went out to this man
+who was reaching a hand to him in his trouble.
+He had always known that Maloney was true and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span>
+steady as a snubbing post, but he had not looked
+for any kindness from him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Kite just got a telephone message from
+Saguache,&#8221; the Bar Double M man went on easily.
+&#8220;Your friends that bought the rustled stock didn&#8217;t
+get away with the goods. Seems they stumbled
+into a bunch of <i>rurales</i> unexpected and had to pull
+their freight sudden. The boys from the ranch happened
+along about then, claimed ownership and got
+possession.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If the men bought the stock why didn&#8217;t they
+stop and explain?&#8221; asked Buck.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That game of buying stolen cattle is worn
+threadbare. The <i>rurales</i> and the rangers have had
+their eye on those border flitters for quite some
+time. So they figured it was safer to dust.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Make their getaway?&#8221; Curly inquired as indifferently
+as he could. But in spite of himself a
+note of eagerness crept into his voice. For if the
+men had escaped that would be two less witnesses
+against him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yep.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Too bad. If they hadn&#8217;t I could have proved by
+them I was not one of the men who sold them the
+stock,&#8221; Flandrau replied.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Like hell you could,&#8221; Buck snorted, then grinned
+at his prisoner in a shamefaced way: &#8220;You&#8217;re a
+good one, son.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Luck has been breaking bad for me, but when
+things are explained&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It sure will take a lot of explaining to keep
+you out of the pen. You&#8217;ll have to be slicker than
+Dutch was.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Jake stuck his head in at the door. &#8220;Buck, you&#8217;re
+needed to help with them two-year-olds. The old
+man wants to have a talk with the rustler. Doc
+says he may. Maloney, will you take him up to
+the house? I&#8217;ll arrange to have you relieved soon
+as I can.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Maloney had once ridden for the Circle C and
+was friendly with all the men on the place. He
+nodded. &#8220;Sure.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A Mexican woman let them into the chamber
+where the wounded man lay. It was a large sunny
+southeast room with French windows opening upon
+a long porch. Kate was bending over the bed rearranging
+the pillows, but she looked up quickly
+when the two men entered. Her eyes were still
+gentle with the love that had been shining down
+from them upon her father.</p>
+<p>Cullison spoke. &#8220;Sit down, Dick.&#8221; And to his
+prisoner: &#8220;You too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flandrau saw close at hand for the first time the
+man who had been Arizona&#8217;s most famous fighting
+sheriff. Luck Cullison was well-built and of medium
+height, of a dark complexion, clean shaven, wiry
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span>
+and muscular. Already past fifty, he looked not a
+day more than forty. One glance was enough to
+tell Curly the kind of man this was. The power
+of him found expression in the gray steel-chilled
+eyes that bored into the young outlaw. A child
+could have told he was not one to trifle with.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You have begun early, young fellow,&#8221; he said
+quietly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Begun what?&#8221; Curly asked, having nothing better
+to say.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know what. But never mind that. I don&#8217;t
+ask you to convict yourself. I sent for you to tell
+you I don&#8217;t blame you for this.&#8221; He touched the
+wound in his side.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Different with your boys, sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So the boys are a little excited, are they?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They were last night anyhow,&#8221; Curly answered,
+with a glimmer of a smile.</p>
+<p>Cullison looked quickly at Maloney and then at
+his daughter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll listen to what you&#8217;ve been hiding from me,&#8221;
+he told them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, the boys had notions. Miss Kate argued
+with them and they saw things different,&#8221; the Bar
+Double M rider explained.</p>
+<p>But Cullison would not let it go at that. He
+made them tell him the whole story. When Curly
+and Maloney had finished he buried his daughter&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span>
+little hand in his big brown fist. His eyes were
+dancing with pride, but he gave her not a word of
+spoken praise.</p>
+<p>Kate, somewhat embarrassed, changed the subject
+briskly. &#8220;Now you&#8217;re talking too much, Dad.
+Doctor Brown said you might see him for just a
+few minutes. But you&#8217;re not to tire yourself, so
+I&#8217;ll do the talking for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He took his orders with the smiling submission
+of the man who knows his mistress.</p>
+<p>Kate spoke to Curly. &#8220;Father wants me to tell
+you that we don&#8217;t blame you for shooting at him.
+We understand just how it was. Your friend got
+excited and shot as soon as he saw he was surrounded.
+We are both very sorry he was killed.
+Father could not stop the boys in time. Perhaps
+you remember that he tried to get you to surrender.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The rustler nodded. &#8220;Yes, I heard him holler to
+me to put my gun down, but the others blazed away
+at me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And so you naturally defended yourself. That&#8217;s
+how we understand it. Father wants it made clear
+that he feels you could have done nothing else.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Much obliged. I&#8217;ve been sorry ever since I hit
+him, and not only on my own account.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then none of us need to hold hard feelings.&#8221;
+The girl looked at her father, who answered her
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span>
+appeal with a grim nod, and then she turned again
+to the young rustler a little timidly. &#8220;I wonder
+if you would mind if I asked you a question.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve earned the right to ask as many as you
+like.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s about&mdash;&mdash; We have been told you know
+the man they call Soapy Stone. Is that true?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flandrau&#8217;s eyes took on a stony look. It was
+as if something had sponged all the boyishness from
+his face. Still trying to get him to give away his
+partners in the rustling, were they? Well, he would
+show them he could take his medicine without
+squealing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe it is and maybe it isn&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, but you don&#8217;t see what we mean. It isn&#8217;t
+that we want to hurt you.&#8221; She spoke in a quick
+eager voice of protest.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, you just want me to squeal on my friends
+to save my own hide. Nothing doing, Miss Cullison.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. You&#8217;re wrong. Why are you so suspicious?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly laughed bitterly. &#8220;Your boys were asking
+that question about Soapy last night. They had
+a rope round my neck at the time. Nothing unfriendly
+in the matter, of course. Just a casual
+interest in my doings.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cullison was looking at him with the steel eyes
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span>
+that bored into him like a gimlet. Now he spoke
+sharply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got an account running with Soapy Stone.
+Some day I&#8217;ll settle it likely. But that ain&#8217;t the
+point now. Do you know his friends&mdash;the bunch
+he trails with?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Wariness still seemed to crouch in the cool eyes
+of Flandrau.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And if I say yes, I&#8217;ll bet your next question
+will be about the time and the place I last saw
+them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate picked up a photograph from the table and
+handed it to the prisoner. &#8220;We&#8217;re not interested in
+his friends&mdash;except one of them. Did you ever see
+the boy that sat for that picture?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The print was a snapshot of a boy about nineteen,
+a good looking handsome fellow, a little sulky
+around the mouth but with a pair of straight honest
+eyes.</p>
+<p>Curly shook his head slowly. Yet he was vaguely
+reminded of someone he knew. Glancing up, he
+found instantly the clew to what had puzzled him.
+The young man in the picture was like Kate Cullison,
+like her father too for that matter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s your brother.&#8221; The words were out before
+Flandrau could stop them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. You&#8217;ve never met him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span></p>
+<p>Cullison had been watching the young man
+steadily. &#8220;Never saw him with Soapy Stone?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never heard Stone speak of Sam Cullison?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Soapy doesn&#8217;t talk much about who his
+friends are.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The ex-sheriff nodded. &#8220;I&#8217;ve met him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Of course he had met him. Curly knew the story
+of how in one drive he had made a gather of outlaws
+that had brought fame to him. Soapy had
+broken through the net, but the sheriff had followed
+him into the hills alone and run him to earth. What
+passed between the men nobody ever found out.
+Stone had repeatedly given it out that he could not
+be taken alive. But Cullison had brought him down
+to the valley bound and cowed. In due season the
+bandits had gone over the road to Yuma. Soapy
+and the others had sworn to get their revenge some
+day. Now they were back in the hills at their old
+tricks. Was it possible that Cullison&#8217;s son was with
+them, caught in a trap during some drunken frolic
+just as Curly had been? In what way could Stone
+pay more fully the debt of hate he owed the former
+sheriff than by making his son a villain?</p>
+<p>The little doctor came briskly into the room.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Everybody out but the nurse. You&#8217;ve had company
+enough for one day, Luck,&#8221; he announced
+cheerily.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span></p>
+<p>Kate followed Maloney and his prisoner to the
+porch.</p>
+<p>&#8220;About the letters of your friend that was shot,&#8221;
+she said to Curly. &#8220;Doctor Brown was telling me
+what you said. I&#8217;ll see they reach Miss Anderson.
+Do you know in what restaurant she works?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Mac didn&#8217;t tell me.&#8221; The boy gulped to
+swallow an unexpected lump in his throat. &#8220;They
+was expecting to get married soon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I&#8217;ll write to her,&#8221; Kate promised, her eyes
+misty.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d be obliged, Miss. Mac was a good boy.
+Anyone will tell you that. And he was awful fond
+of her. He talked about her that last night before
+the camp fire. I led him into this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell her what you say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do. Tell her he felt bad about what he had
+done. Bad companions got him going wrong, but
+he sure would have settled down into a good man.
+That&#8217;s straight goods, too. You write it strong.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl&#8217;s eyes were shiny with tears. &#8220;Yes,&#8221; she
+answered softly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t any Harvard A. B. Writing letters ain&#8217;t
+my long suit. I&#8217;m always disremembering whether
+a man had ought to say have went and have knew.
+Verbs are the beatingest things. But I know you&#8217;ll
+fix it up right so as to let that little girl down
+easy.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve changed my mind. I&#8217;ll not write but go to
+see her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly could only look his thanks. Words
+seemed strangely inadequate. But Kate understood
+the boy&#8217;s unspoken wish and nodded her head reassuringly
+as he left the room.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='V_LAURA_LONDON' id='V_LAURA_LONDON'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+<h3>LAURA LONDON</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Kite Bonfils and Maloney took Curly back to
+Saguache and turned him over to Sheriff Bolt.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How about bail?&#8221; Maloney asked.</p>
+<p>The sheriff smiled. He was a long lean leather-faced
+man with friendly eyes from which humorous
+wrinkles radiated.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You honing to go bail for him, Dick?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How much?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, say two thousand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221;</p>
+<p>A cowpuncher with fifty dollars two weeks after
+pay day was a rarity. No wonder Bolt was surprised.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s not my money. Luck Cullison is going bail
+for him,&#8221; Maloney explained.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Luck Cullison!&#8221; Maloney&#8217;s words had surprised
+the exclamation from Curly. Why should the
+owner of the Circle C of all men go bail for him?</p>
+<p>The sheriff commented dryly on the fact. &#8220;I
+thought this kid was the one that shot him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That was just a happenstance. Curly shot to
+save his bacon. Luck don&#8217;t hold any grudge.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;So I should judge. Luck gave you his check,
+did he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bolt belonged to the political party opposed to
+Cullison. He had been backed by Cass Fendrick,
+a sheepman in feud with the cattle interests and
+in particular with the Circle C outfit. But he could
+not go back on his word. He and Maloney called
+together on the district attorney. An hour later
+Dick returned to the jail.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all right, kid,&#8221; he told Curly. &#8220;You can
+shake off the dust of Saguache from your hoofs till
+court meets in September.&#8221;</p>
+<p>To Flandrau the news seemed too good for the
+truth. Less than twenty-four hours ago he had been
+waiting for the end of the road with a rope around
+his neck. Now he was free to slip a saddle on his
+pony Keno and gallop off as soon as he pleased.
+How such a change had been brought about he did
+not yet understand.</p>
+<p>While he and Maloney were sitting opposite each
+other at the New Orleans Hash House waiting for
+a big steak with onions he asked questions.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t savvy Cullison&#8217;s play. Whyfor is he
+digging up two thousand for me? How does he
+know I won&#8217;t cut my stick for Mexico?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do I know it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, do you?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></p>
+<p>Maloney helped himself to the oyster crackers to
+pass the time. &#8220;Sure I do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Search me. But I know you&#8217;ll be here in September
+if you&#8217;re alive and kicking.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flandrau persisted. &#8220;But Luck don&#8217;t owe me
+anything, except one pill sent promiscuous to his
+address. What&#8217;s he going down into his jeans for?
+Will you tell me that? And shove them crackers
+north by east. Got to fill up on something.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t you as good a guesser as I am, Curly?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well then, here&#8217;s my guess. Miss Kate made
+him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I reckon maybe she influenced him. But why
+did she? You don&#8217;t figure that curly topknot of
+yours is disturbing her dreams any, do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quit your joshing and tell me why.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t tell you for sure. But here&#8217;s my guess.
+Don&#8217;t cost you a cent if you ain&#8217;t satisfied with it.
+First off, there was poor Mac shot by the Circle C
+boys. Course Mac was a horse thief, but then he
+was a kid too. That worried the little girl some.
+She got to thinking about brother Sam and how
+he might be in the same fix one of these days as
+you are now. He&#8217;s on her mind a good deal, Sam
+is. Same way with the old man too, I reckon,
+though he don&#8217;t say much. Well, she decided Soapy
+Stone had led you astray like he&#8217;s doing with Sam.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span>
+It got to worrying her for fear her brother might
+need a friend some time. So she handed over her
+worry to the old man and made him dig up for
+you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s about it. Tell me what you know of
+Sam. Is he as white as the rest of the family?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sam is all right, but he has got off wrong foot
+first. He and the old man got to kind of disagreeing,
+for the kid was a wild colt. Come by it honestly from
+the old man too. Well, they had a row one time
+when Sam got into trouble. Luck told him he
+never wanted to see him again. Sam lit out, and
+next folks knew he was trailing with Soapy&#8217;s gang.
+Consequence is, Sam&#8217;s hitting the toboggan for
+Tophet by all accounts.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Looks like some one ought to be able to pry him
+loose from that bunch,&#8221; Curly mused aloud.</p>
+<p>Maloney grinned across at him. &#8220;You try it,
+son. You&#8217;ve always led a good pious life. He
+sure would listen to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He had said it as a jest, but Curly did not laugh.
+Why not? Why shouldn&#8217;t he hunt up Sam and
+let him know how his folks were worrying about
+him? What was to hinder him from trying to
+wipe out some of the big debt he owed the Cullison
+family? He was footloose till September and out
+of a job. For he could not go back to the Map of
+Texas with his hat in his hand and a repentant
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span>
+whine on his lips. Why not take a hike into the
+hills and round up the boy? Of course Sam might
+not listen to him, but he could not tell that till he
+had tried. It had taken him scarcely a moment
+to make up his mind. The smile had not yet died
+out of Maloney&#8217;s eyes when he spoke.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Damn if I don&#8217;t take a crack at it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The man on the other side of the table stared at
+him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Meaning that, are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yep.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Might be some lively if Soapy gets wise to your
+intentions,&#8221; he said in a casual sort of way.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t aim to declare them out loud.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That was all they said about it at the time. The
+rest of the evening was devoted to pleasure. After
+dinner they took in a moving picture show. The
+first film was a Western melodrama and it pleased
+them both immensely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d be afraid to live in a country where guns
+popped like they do in moving picture land,&#8221; Curly
+drawled. &#8220;Where is it anyhow? It ain&#8217;t Texas,
+nor Oklahoma, nor Wyoming, nor Montana, nor
+any of the spots in between, because I&#8217;ve been in all
+of them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Maloney laughed. &#8220;Day before yesterday that&#8217;s
+the way I&#8217;d a-talked my own self, but now I know
+better. What about your little stunt? Wasn&#8217;t that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span>
+warm enough for you? Didn&#8217;t guns pop enough?
+Don&#8217;t you talk about moving pictures!&#8221;</p>
+<p>After the picture show there were other things.
+But both of them trod the narrow path, Maloney
+because he was used to doing so and Flandrau
+because his experiences had sobered him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m on the water wagon, Dick.&#8221; He grinned
+ruefully at his friend. &#8220;Nothing like locking the
+stable after your bronc&#8217;s been stole. I&#8217;d a-been a
+heap better off if I&#8217;d got on the wagon a week
+ago.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Since their way was one for several miles Maloney
+and Curly took the road together next morning
+at daybreak. Their ponies ambled along side by
+side at the easy gait characteristic of the Southwest.
+Steadily they pushed into the brown baked desert.
+Little dust whirls in the shape of inverted cones
+raced across the sand wastes. The heat danced
+along the road in front of them in shimmering
+waves.</p>
+<p>Your plainsman is a taciturn individual. These
+two rode for an hour without exchanging a syllable.
+Then Curly was moved to talk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can you tell me how it is a man can get fond
+of so Godforsaken a country? Cactus and greasewood
+and mesquite, and for a change mesquite and
+greasewood and cactus! Nothing but sand washes
+and sand hills, except the naked mountains &#8217;way
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span>
+off with their bones sticking through. But in the
+mo&#8217;ning like this, when the world&#8217;s kind o&#8217; smiley
+with the sunshine, or after dark when things are
+sorter violet soft and the mountains lose their
+edges&mdash;say, would you swap it for any other country
+on earth?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Maloney nodded. He had felt that emotion a
+hundred times, though he had never put it into
+words.</p>
+<p>At Willow Wash their ways diverged. They
+parted with a casual &#8220;So-long; see you later.&#8221;
+Curly was striking for the headwaters of Dead
+Cow Creek, where Soapy Stone had a horse ranch.</p>
+<p>He put up that night at the place of a nester
+in the foothills. His host looked at him curiously
+when he mentioned his destination, but he did not
+say anything. It was none of his business how
+many young fellows rode to Soapy&#8217;s ranch.</p>
+<p>Flandrau took the trail again next morning after
+breakfast. About two o&#8217;clock he reached a little
+park in the hills, in the middle of which, by a dry
+creek, lay a ranch.</p>
+<p>The young man at first thought the place was
+deserted for the day, but when he called a girl
+appeared at the door. She smiled up at him with
+the lively interest any ranch girl may be expected
+to feel in a stranger who happens to be both young
+and good looking.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span></p>
+<p>She was a young person of soft curves and engaging
+dimples. Beneath the brown cheeks of
+Arizona was a pink that came and went very attractively.</p>
+<p>Curly took off his dusty gray hat. &#8220;<i>Buenos
+tardes; senorita!</i> I&#8217;ll bet I&#8217;m too late to draw any
+dinner.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Buenos, senor</i>,&#8221; she answered promptly. &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+bet you&#8217;d lose your money.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He swung from the saddle. &#8220;That&#8217;s good hearing.
+When a fellow has had his knees clamped to
+the side of a bronch for seven hours he&#8217;s sure ready
+for the dinner bell.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can wash over there by the pump. There&#8217;s
+a towel on the fence.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She disappeared into the house, and Curly took
+care of his horse, washed, and sauntered back to the
+porch. He could smell potatoes frying and could
+hear the sizzling of ham and eggs.</p>
+<p>While he ate the girl flitted in and out, soft-footed
+and graceful, replenishing his plate from time to
+time.</p>
+<p>Presently he discovered that her father was away
+hunting strays on Sunk Creek, that the nearest
+neighbor was seven miles distant, and that Stone&#8217;s
+ranch was ten miles farther up Dead Cow.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ever meet a lad called Sam Cullison?&#8221; the guest
+asked carelessly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span></p>
+<p>Curly was hardly prepared to see the color whip
+into her cheeks or to meet the quick stabbing look
+she fastened on him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re looking for him, are you?&#8221; she said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thought while I was here I&#8217;d look him up. I
+know his folks a little.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He shook his head. She looked at him very
+steadily before she spoke.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You haven&#8217;t met him yet but you want to. Is
+that it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you have another egg?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flandrau laughed. &#8220;No, thanks. Staying up at
+Stone&#8217;s, is he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How should I know who&#8217;s staying at Stone&#8217;s?&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was quite plain she did not intend to tell anything
+that would hurt young Cullison.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well, it doesn&#8217;t matter. I ain&#8217;t lost him any
+to speak of,&#8221; the young man drawled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you expecting to stop in the hills long&mdash;or
+just visiting?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; Curly answered, with his most innocent
+blank wall look.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes which?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, whichever you like, Miss London. What&#8217;s
+worrying you? If you&#8217;ll ask me plain out I&#8217;ll know
+how to answer you.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;So you know my name?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anything strange about that? The Bar 99 is
+the London brand. I saw your calves in the corral
+with their flanks still sore. Naturally I assume the
+young lady I meet here is Miss Laura London.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She defended her suspicions. &#8220;Folks come up
+here with their mysterious questions. A person
+would think nobody lived on Dead Cow but outlaws
+and such, to hear some of you valley people tell it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s nothing mysterious about me and my
+questions. I&#8217;m just a lunkheaded cowpuncher out
+of a job. What did you think I was?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you want with Sam Cullison? Are you
+friendly to him? Or aren&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ladies first. Are <i>you</i> friendly to him? Or
+aren&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly smiled gaily across the table at her. A
+faint echo of his pleasantry began to dimple the
+corners of her mouth. It lit her eyes and spread
+from them till the prettiest face on the creek
+wrinkled with mirth. Both of them relaxed to peals
+of laughter, and neither of them quite knew the
+cause of their hilarity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you!&#8221; she reproved when she had sufficiently
+recovered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you thought I was a detective or a deputy
+sheriff. That&#8217;s certainly funny.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For all I know yet you may be one.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I never did see anyone with a disposition so
+dark-complected as yours. If you won&#8217;t put them
+suspicions to sleep I&#8217;ll have to table my cards.&#8221;
+From his pocket he drew a copy of the Saguache
+Sentinel and showed her a marked story. &#8220;Maybe
+that will explain what I&#8217;m doing up on Dead Cow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>This was what Laura London read:</p>
+<div class='blockquot'>
+<p>From Mesa comes the news of another
+case of bold and flagrant rustling. On
+Friday night a bunch of horses belonging
+to the Bar Double M were rounded up
+and driven across the mountains to this
+city. The stolen animals were sold here
+this morning, after which the buyers set
+out at once for the border and the thieves
+made themselves scarce. It is claimed that
+the rustlers were members of the notorious
+Soapy Stone outfit. Two of the four were
+identified, it is alleged, as William Cranston,
+generally known as &#8220;Bad Bill,&#8221; and
+a young vaquero called &#8220;Curly&#8221; Flandrau.</p>
+<p>At the time of going to press posses
+are out after both the outlaws and the
+stolen horses. Chances of overtaking both
+are considered excellent. All likely points
+and outlying ranches have been notified by
+telephone whenever possible.</p>
+<p>In case the guilty parties are apprehended
+the <i>Sentinel</i> hopes an example will
+be made of them that will deter others of
+like stamp from a practice that has of late
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span>
+been far too common. Lawlessness seems
+to come in cycles. Just now the southern
+tier of counties appears to be suffering
+from such a sporadic attack. Let all good
+men combine to stamp it out. The time
+has passed when Arizona must stand as a
+synonym for anarchy.</p>
+</div>
+<p>She looked up at the young man breathlessly,
+her pretty lips parted, her dilated eyes taking him
+in solemnly. A question trembled on her lips.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say it,&#8221; advised Flandrau.</p>
+<p>The courage to ask what she was thinking came
+back in a wave. &#8220;Then I will. Are you a rustler?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what the paper says, don&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you this man mentioned here? What&#8217;s
+his name&mdash;&#8216;Curly&#8217; Flandrau?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you&#8217;re a rustler?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you think? Am I more like a rustler
+than a deputy sheriff? Stands to reason I can&#8217;t
+be both.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her eyes did not leave him. She brushed aside
+his foolery impatiently. &#8220;You don&#8217;t even deny it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t yet. I expect I will later.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why do men do such things?&#8221; she went on,
+letting the hands that held the paper drop into her
+lap helplessly. &#8220;You don&#8217;t look bad. Anyone
+would think&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span></p>
+<p>Her sentence tailed out and died away. She was
+still looking at Curly, but he could see that her
+mind had flown to someone else. He would have
+bet a month&#8217;s pay that she was thinking of another
+lad who was wild but did not look bad.</p>
+<p>Flandrau rose and walked round the table to her.
+&#8220;Much obliged, Miss Laura. I&#8217;ll shake hands on
+that with you. You&#8217;ve guessed it. Course, me being
+so &#8216;notorious&#8217; I hate to admit it, but I ain&#8217;t bad
+any more than he is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She gave him a quick shy look. He had made
+a center shot she was not expecting. But, womanlike,
+she did not admit it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean this &#8216;Bad Bill&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know who I mean all right. His name is
+Sam Cullison. And you needn&#8217;t to tell me where
+he is. I&#8217;ll find him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know you don&#8217;t mean any harm to him.&#8221; But
+she said it as if she were pleading with him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;C&#8217;rect. I don&#8217;t. Can you tell me how to get
+to Soapy Stone&#8217;s horse ranch from here, Miss London?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She laughed. Her doubts were vanishing like
+mist before the sunshine. &#8220;Good guess. At least
+he was there the last I heard.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I expect your information is pretty recent.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span></p>
+<p>That drew another little laugh accompanied by
+a blush.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you think I have told you enough for
+one day, Mr. Flandrau?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That &#8216;Mr.&#8217; sounds too solemn. My friends call
+me &#8216;Curly,&#8217;&#8221; he let her know.</p>
+<p>She remembered that he was a stranger and a
+rustler and she drew herself up stiffly. This pleasant
+young fellow was too familiar.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you take this trail to the scrub pines above,
+then keep due north for about four miles, you&#8217;ll
+strike the creek again. Just follow the trail along
+it to the horse ranch.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With that she turned on her heel and walked into
+the kitchen.</p>
+<p>Curly had not meant to be &#8220;fresh.&#8221; He was always
+ready for foolery with the girls, but he was
+not the sort to go too far. Now he blamed himself
+for having moved too fast. He had offended her
+sense of what was the proper thing.</p>
+<p>There was nothing for it but to saddle and take
+the road.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VI_A_BEAR_TRAP' id='VI_A_BEAR_TRAP'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<h3>A BEAR TRAP</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The winding trail led up to the scrub pines and
+from there north into the hills. Curly had not
+traveled far when he heard the sound of a gun fired
+three times in quick succession. He stopped to listen.
+Presently there came a faint far call for help.</p>
+<p>Curly cantered around the shoulder of the hill
+and saw a man squatting on the ground. He was
+stooped forward in an awkward fashion with his
+back to Flandrau.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s up?&#8221;</p>
+<p>At the question the man looked over his shoulder.
+Pain and helpless rage burned in the deep-set black
+eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing at all. Don&#8217;t you see I&#8217;m just taking
+a nap?&#8221; he answered quietly.</p>
+<p>Curly recognized him now. The man was Soapy
+Stone. Behind the straight thin-lipped mouth a
+double row of strong white teeth were clamped
+tightly. Little beads of perspiration stood out all
+over his forehead. A glance showed the reason.
+One of his hands was caught in a bear trap fastened
+to a cottonwood. Its jaws held him so that he
+could not move.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span></p>
+<p>The young man swung from the back of Keno.
+He found the limb of a cottonwood about as thick
+as his forearm below the elbow. This he set close
+to the trap.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Soon as I get the lip open shove her in,&#8221; he
+told Stone.</p>
+<p>The prisoner moistened his dry lips. It was
+plain that he was in great pain.</p>
+<p>The rescuer slipped the toes of his boots over
+the lower lip and caught the upper one with both
+hands. Slowly the mouth of the trap opened. Stone
+slipped in the wooden wedge and withdrew his
+crushed wrist. By great good fortune the steel
+had caught on the leather gauntlet he was wearing.
+Otherwise it must have mangled the arm to a pulp.</p>
+<p>Even now he was suffering a good deal.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll have to let a doc look at it,&#8221; Curly suggested.</p>
+<p>Stone agreed. &#8220;Reckon I better strike for the
+Bar 99.&#8221; He was furious at himself for having let
+such an accident happen. The veriest tenderfoot
+might have known better.</p>
+<p>His horse had disappeared, but Curly helped him
+to the back of Keno. Together they took the trail
+for the Bar 99. On the face of the wounded man
+gathered the moisture caused by intense pain. His
+jaw was clenched to keep back the groans.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hard sledding, looks like,&#8221; Curly sympathized.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Reckon I can stand the grief,&#8221; Stone grunted.</p>
+<p>Nor did he speak again until they reached the
+ranch and Laura London looked at him from a
+frightened face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ran a sliver in my finger, Miss Laura. Too
+bad to trouble you,&#8221; Soapy answered with a sneer
+on his thin lips.</p>
+<p>A rider for the Bar 99 had just ridden up and
+Laura sent him at once for the doctor. She led the
+way into the house and swiftly gathered bandages,
+a sponge, and a basin of water. Together she and
+Curly bathed and wrapped the wound. Stone did
+not weaken, though he was pretty gray about the
+lips.</p>
+<p>Laura was as gentle as she could be.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know I&#8217;m hurting you,&#8221; she said, her fingers
+trembling.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not a bit of it. Great pleasure to have you for
+a nurse. I&#8217;m certainly in luck.&#8221; Curly did not
+understand the bitterness in the sardonic face and
+he resented it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If the doctor would only hurry,&#8221; Laura murmured.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know I&#8217;m a great trouble. Too bad Curly
+found me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She was busy with the knots of the outer wrapping
+and did not look up. &#8220;It is no trouble.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m too meddlesome. Serves me right for being
+inquisitive about your father&#8217;s trap.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;ll be sorry you were caught.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. He&#8217;ll have to climb the hill and reset it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That something was wrong between them Curly
+could see. Soapy was very polite in spite of his
+bitterness, but his hard eyes watched her as a cat
+does a mouse. Moreover, the girl was afraid of
+him. He could tell that by the timid startled way
+she had of answering. Now why need she fear the
+man? It would be as much as his life was worth
+to lift a hand to hurt her.</p>
+<p>After the doctor had come and had attended to
+the crushed wrist Curly stepped out to the porch
+to find Laura. She was watering her roses and he
+went across the yard to her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m right sorry for what I said, Miss Laura.
+Once in a while a fellow makes a mistake. If he&#8217;s
+as big a chump as I am it&#8217;s liable to happen a little
+oftener. But I&#8217;m not really one of those smart
+guys.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Out came her gloved hand in the firmest of
+grips.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know that now. You didn&#8217;t think. And I
+made a mistake. I thought you were taking advantage
+because I had been friendly. I&#8217;m glad you
+spoke about it. We&#8217;ll forget it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then maybe we&#8217;ll be friends after all, but I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span>
+sha&#8217;n&#8217;t tell you what my friends call me,&#8221; he answered
+gaily.</p>
+<p>She laughed out in a sudden bubbling of mirth.
+&#8220;Take care.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I will. I won&#8217;t even spell it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He helped her with the watering. Presently she
+spoke, with a quick look toward the house.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s something I want to say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Something I want you to do for me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I expect maybe I&#8217;ll do it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She said nothing more for a minute, then the
+thing that was troubling her burst from the lips of
+the girl as a flame leaps out of a pent fire.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s about that boy he has up there.&#8221; She gave a
+hopeless little gesture toward the hills.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sam Cullison?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What about him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s bent on ruining him, always has been ever
+since he got a hold on him. I can&#8217;t tell you how
+I know it, but I&#8217;m sure&mdash;&mdash; And now he&#8217;s more
+set on it than ever.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly thought he could guess why, but he wanted
+to make sure. &#8220;Because you are Sam&#8217;s friend?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The pink flooded her cheeks. &#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And because you won&#8217;t be Soapy Stone&#8217;s
+friend?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span></p>
+<p>She flashed a startled look at him. &#8220;How do you
+know?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jealous, is he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her face, buried in the blooms she had been
+cutting, was of the same tint as the roses.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And so he wants to hurt you through him?&#8221;
+Flandrau added.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. If he can drag Sam down and get him
+into trouble he&#8217;ll pay off two grudges at once. And
+he will too. You&#8217;ll see. He&#8217;s wily as an Indian.
+For that matter there is Apache blood in him, folks
+say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What about young Cullison? Can&#8217;t he make a
+fight for himself?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you know how boys are. Sam is completely
+under this man&#8217;s influence.&#8221; Her voice broke a
+little. &#8220;And I can&#8217;t help him. I&#8217;m only a girl. He
+won&#8217;t listen to me. Besides, Dad won&#8217;t let me
+have anything to do with him because of the way
+he&#8217;s acting. What Sam needs is a man friend, one
+just as strong and determined as Soapy but one who
+is good and the right sort of an influence.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you picking me for that responsible friend
+who is to be such a powerful influence for good?&#8221;
+Curly asked with a smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;yes, I am.&#8221; She looked up at him confidently.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Haven&#8217;t you forgotten that little piece in the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span>
+<i>Sentinel</i>? How does it go? An example had
+ought to be made of the desperadoes, and all the
+rest of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t care what it says. I&#8217;ve seen you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So had the editor.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She waved his jests aside. &#8220;Oh, well! You&#8217;ve
+done wrong. What of that? Can&#8217;t I tell you are
+a man? And I don&#8217;t care how much fun you make
+of me. You&#8217;re good too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly met her on the ground of her own seriousness.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell you something, Miss Laura. Maybe
+you&#8217;ll be glad to know that the reason I&#8217;m going
+to the horse ranch is to help Sam Cullison if I
+can.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He went on to tell her the whole story of what
+the Cullisons had done for him. In all that he
+said there was not one word to suggest such a
+thing, but Laura London&#8217;s mind jumped the gaps
+to a knowledge of the truth that Curly himself did
+not have. The young man was in love with Kate
+Cullison. She was sure of it. Also, she was his
+ally in the good cause of romance.</p>
+<p>When Curly walked back into the house, Stone
+laid down the paper he had been reading.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see the <i>Sentinel</i> hints that Mr. Curly Flandrau
+had better be lynched,&#8221; he jeered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The <i>Sentinel</i> don&#8217;t always hit the bull&#8217;s-eye,
+Soapy,&#8221; returned the young man evenly. &#8220;It thinks
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span>
+I belong to the Soapy Stone outfit, but we know I
+haven&#8217;t that honor.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s no such outfit&mdash;not in the sense he
+means,&#8221; snapped the man on the lounge. &#8220;What
+are your plans? Where you going to lie low?
+Picked a spot yet?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know where I&#8217;m going, but I&#8217;m on the
+way,&#8221; Curly assured him gaily.</p>
+<p>Soapy frowned at him under the heavy eyebrows
+that gave him so menacing an effect.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better come back with me to the ranch till you
+look around.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Suits me right down to the ground if it does
+you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Someone came whistling into the house and
+opened the door of the room. He was a big lank
+fellow with a shotgun in his hands. &#8220;From Missouri&#8221;
+was stamped all over his awkward frame.
+He stood staring at his unexpected guests. His
+eyes, clashing with those of Stone, grew chill and
+hard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you&#8217;re back here again, are you?&#8221; he asked,
+looking pretty black.</p>
+<p>Stone&#8217;s lip smile mocked him. &#8220;I don&#8217;t know
+how you guessed it, but I sure am here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t I tell you to keep away from the Bar 99&mdash;you
+and your whole cursed outfit?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Seems to me you did mention something of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span>
+that sort. But how was I to know whether you
+meant it unless I came back to see?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Laura came into the room and ranged herself
+beside her father. Her hand rested lightly on his
+forearm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He got caught in one of your bear traps and
+this young man brought him here to wait for the
+doctor,&#8221; she explained.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hmp!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Missourian stared without civility at his
+guest, turned on his heel, and with his daughter
+beside him marched out of the room. He could not
+decently tell Stone to leave while he was under the
+care of a doctor, but he did not intend to make him
+welcome. London was a blunt grizzled old fellow
+who said what he thought even about the notorious
+Soapy Stone.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll pull our freights right away, Curly,&#8221;
+Stone announced as soon as his host had gone.</p>
+<p>The young man went to the stable and saddled
+Keno. While he was tightening the cinch a shadow
+fell across his shoulder. He did not need to look
+round to see whose it was.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so glad you&#8217;re going to the horse ranch.
+You will look out for Sam. I trust you. I don&#8217;t
+know why, but I have the greatest confidence in
+you,&#8221; the owner of the shadow explained sweetly.</p>
+<p>Curly smiled blandly over his shoulder at her.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span>
+&#8220;Fine! That&#8217;s a good uplifting line of talk, Miss
+Laura. Now will you please explain why you&#8217;re
+feeding me this particular bunch of taffy? What
+is it I&#8217;m to do for you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She blushed and laughed at the same time. Her
+hand came from behind her back. In it was a
+letter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I do mean it, every word of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s to be my pay for giving Master Sam his
+billy doo, is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How did you guess? It is a letter to Sam.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How did I guess it? Shows I&#8217;m sure a wiz,
+don&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She saw her father coming and handed him the
+letter quickly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here. Take it.&#8221; A spark of mischief lit her
+eye and the dimples came out on her cheeks.
+&#8220;Good-by, <i>Curly</i>.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VII_BAD_MEDICINE' id='VII_BAD_MEDICINE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+<h3>BAD MEDICINE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The house at the horse ranch was a long, low
+L-shaped adobe structure. The first impression
+Curly received was that of negligence. In places
+the roof sagged. A door in the rear hung from
+one hinge. More than one broken pane of glass
+was stuffed with paper. The same evidence of
+shiftlessness could be seen on every hand. Fences
+had collapsed and been repaired flimsily. The woodwork
+of the well was rotting. The windmill
+wheezed and did its work languidly for lack of oil.</p>
+<p>Two men were seated on the porch playing seven
+up. One was Bad Bill, the other Blackwell. At
+sight of Curly they gave up their game.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, kid! Where did you drop from?&#8221; Cranston
+asked.</p>
+<p>A muscle twitched in Flandrau&#8217;s cheek. &#8220;They
+got Mac.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Got him! Where? At Saguache?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ran us down near the Circle C. Mac opened
+fire. They&mdash;killed him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shot him, or&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221; Curly was left to guess
+the other half of the question.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Shot him, and took me prisoner.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They couldn&#8217;t prove a thing, could they?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They could prove I wounded Cullison. That
+was enough for them. They set out to hang me.
+Later they changed their minds.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How come you here? Did you escape?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nope. Friends dug up bail.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cranston did not ask what friends. He thought
+he knew. Alec Flandrau, an uncle of Curly, owned
+a half interest in the Map of Texas ranch. No
+doubt he had come to the aid of the young scapegoat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll bet the old man was sore at having to ante,&#8221;
+was Big Bill&#8217;s comment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, Soapy has been telling me that the Cullison
+kid is up here. I reckon we better not say anything
+about my mixup with his folks. I&#8217;m not
+looking for any trouble with him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, Curly. That goes with me. How
+about you, Blackwell?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure. What Sam don&#8217;t know won&#8217;t hurt him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly sat down on the porch and told an edited
+story of his adventures to them. Before he had
+finished a young fellow rode up and dismounted.
+He had a bag of quail with him which he handed
+over to the Mexican cook. After he had unsaddled
+and turned his pony into a corral he joined the card
+players on the porch.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span></p>
+<p>By unanimous consent the game was changed
+to poker. Young Cullison had the chair next to
+Flandrau. He had, so Curly thought, a strong
+family resemblance to his father and sister. &#8220;His
+eye jumps straight at you and asks its questions
+right off the reel,&#8221; the newcomer thought. Still
+a boy in his ways, he might any day receive the
+jolt that would transform him into a man.</p>
+<p>The cook&#8217;s &#8220;Come and get it&#8221; broke up the game
+for a time. They trooped to supper, where for
+half an hour they discussed without words fried
+quail, cornbread and coffee. Such conversation as
+there was held strictly to necessary lines and had to
+do with the transportation of edibles.</p>
+<p>Supper over, they smoked till the table was
+cleared. Then coats were removed and they sat
+down to the serious business of an all night session
+of draw.</p>
+<p>Curly was not playing to win money so much as
+to study the characters of those present. Bill he
+knew already fairly well as a tough nut to crack,
+game to the core, and staunch to his friends. Blackwell
+was a bad lot, treacherous, vindictive, slippery
+as an eel. Even his confederates did not trust him
+greatly. But it was Soapy Stone and young Cullison
+that interested Flandrau most. The former
+played like a master. He chatted carelessly, but he
+overlooked no points. Sam had the qualities that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span>
+go to make a brilliant erratic player, but he lacked
+the steadiness and the finesse of the veteran.</p>
+<p>The last play before they broke up in the gray
+dawn was a flashlight on Stone&#8217;s cool audacity.
+The limit had long since been taken off. Blackwell
+and Stone had been the winners of the night, and
+the rest had all lost more or less.</p>
+<p>Curly was dealing, Cranston opened the pot.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s cracked,&#8221; he announced.</p>
+<p>Blackwell, sitting next to him, had been waiting
+his turn with palpable eagerness. &#8220;Got to boost
+her, boys, to protect Bill,&#8221; he explained as his raise
+went in.</p>
+<p>Sam, who had drunk more than was good for
+him, raised in his turn. &#8220;Kick her again, gentlemen.
+Me, I&#8217;m plumb tired of that little song of
+mine, &#8216;Good here&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Stone stayed. Curly did not come in.</p>
+<p>Cranston showed his openers and laid down his
+hand. Blackwell hesitated, then raised again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Reckon I&#8217;m content to trail along,&#8221; Cullison admitted,
+pushing in the necessary chips.</p>
+<p>Soapy rasped his stubby chin, looked sideways
+at Sam and then at Blackwell, and abruptly shaved
+in chips enough to call the raise.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cards?&#8221; asked Curly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll play these,&#8221; Blackwell announced.</p>
+<p>Sam called for two and Stone one.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></p>
+<p>Blackwell raised. Sam, grumbling, stayed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Might as well see what you&#8217;ve got when I&#8217;ve
+gone this far,&#8221; he gave as a reason for throwing
+good money after bad.</p>
+<p>Soapy took one glance at his new card and came
+in with a raise.</p>
+<p>Blackwell slammed his fist down on the table.
+&#8220;Just my rotten luck. You&#8217;ve filled.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Stone smiled, then dropped his eyes to his cards.
+Suddenly he started. What had happened was
+plain. He had misread his hand.</p>
+<p>With a cheerful laugh Blackwell raised in his
+turn.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lets me out,&#8221; Sam said.</p>
+<p>For about a tenth of a second one could see
+triumph ride in Soapy&#8217;s eyes. &#8220;Different here,&#8221; he
+explained in a quiet businesslike way. All his chips
+were pushed forward to the center of the table.</p>
+<p>On Blackwell&#8217;s face were mapped his thoughts.
+Curly saw his stodgy mind working on the problem,
+studying helplessly the poker eyes of his easy placid
+enemy. Was Soapy bluffing? Or had he baited a
+hook for him to swallow? The faintest glimmer of
+amusement drifted across the face of Stone. He
+might have been a general whose plans have worked
+out to suit him, waiting confidently for certain victory.
+The longer the convict looked at him the
+surer he was that he had been trapped.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span></p>
+<p>With an oath he laid down his hand. &#8220;You&#8217;ve
+got me beat. Mine is only a jack high straight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Stone put down his cards and reached for the
+pot.</p>
+<p>Curly laughed.</p>
+<p>Blackwell whirled on him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s so condemned funny?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The things I notice.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Meaning?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That I wouldn&#8217;t have laid down my hand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Betcher ten plunks he had me beat.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re on.&#8221; Curly turned to Soapy. &#8220;Object
+to us seeing your hand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Stone was counting his chips. He smiled. &#8220;It
+ain&#8217;t poker, but go ahead. Satisfy yourselves.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You turn the cards,&#8221; Flandrau said.</p>
+<p>A king of diamonds showed first, then a ten-spot
+and a six-spot of the same suit.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A flush,&#8221; exulted Blackwell.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got just one more ten left, but it says you&#8217;re
+wrong.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The words were not out of Curly&#8217;s mouth before
+the other had taken the bet. Soapy looked at
+Flandrau with a new interest. Perhaps this boy
+was not such a youth as he had first seemed.</p>
+<p>The fourth card turned was a king of hearts, the
+last a six of spades. Stone had had two pair to
+go on and had not bettered at the draw.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></p>
+<p>Blackwell tossed down two bills and went away
+furious.</p>
+<p>That night was like a good many that followed.
+Sam was at an impressionable age, inclined to be led
+by any man whom he admired. Curly knew that
+he could gain no influence over him by preaching.
+He had to live the rough-and-tumble life of these
+men who dwelt beyond the pale of the law, to excel
+them at the very things of which they boasted. But
+in one respect he held himself apart. While he was
+at the horse ranch he did not touch a drop of liquor.</p>
+<p>Laura London&#8217;s letter was not delivered until
+the second day, for, though she had not told her
+messenger to give it to Sam when he was alone,
+Curly guessed this would be better. The two young
+men had ridden down to Big Tree spring to get
+quail for supper.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Letter for you from a young lady,&#8221; Flandrau
+said, and handed it to Cullison.</p>
+<p>Sam did not read his note at once, but put it in
+his pocket carelessly, as if it had been an advertisement.
+They lay down in the bushes about twenty
+yards apart, close to the hole where the birds flew
+every evening to water. Hidden by the mesquite,
+Sam ran over his letter two or three times while
+he was waiting. It was such a message as any
+brave-hearted, impulsive girl might send to the man
+she loved when he seemed to her to walk in danger.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span>
+Cullison loved her for the interest she took in him,
+even while he ridiculed her fears.</p>
+<p>Presently the quails came by hundreds on a bee-line
+for the water hole. They shot as many as
+they needed, but no more, for neither of them cared
+to kill for pleasure.</p>
+<p>As they rode back to the ranch, Curly mentioned
+that he had seen Sam&#8217;s people a day or two before.</p>
+<p>Cullison asked no questions, but he listened intently
+while the other told the story of his first
+rustling and of how Miss Kate and her father had
+stood by him in his trouble. The dusk was settling
+over the hills by this time, so that they could
+not see each other&#8217;s faces clearly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I had folks like you have, the salt of the
+earth, and they were worrying their hearts out
+about me, seems to me I&#8217;d quit helling around and
+go back to them,&#8221; Curly concluded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The old man sent you to tell me that, did he?&#8221;
+Hard and bitter came the voice of the young man
+out of the growing darkness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, he didn&#8217;t. He doesn&#8217;t know I&#8217;m here. But
+he and your sister have done more for me than I
+ever can pay. That&#8217;s why I&#8217;m telling you this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Sam answered gruffly, as a man does when he is
+moved, &#8220;Much obliged, Curly, but I reckon I can
+look out for myself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just what I thought, and in September I have to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span>
+go to the penitentiary. Now I have mortgaged it
+away, my liberty seems awful good to me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll get off likely.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not a chance. They&#8217;ve got me cinched. But
+with you it&#8217;s different. You haven&#8217;t fooled away
+your chance yet. There&#8217;s nothing to this sort of
+life. The bunch up here is no good. Soapy don&#8217;t
+mean right by you, or by any young fellow he
+trails with.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll not listen to anything against Soapy. He
+took me in when my own father turned against
+me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To get back at your father for sending him up
+the road.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all right. He has been a good friend to
+me. I&#8217;m not going to throw him down.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would it be throwing him down to go back to
+your people?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it would. We&#8217;ve got plans. Soapy is relying
+on me. No matter what they are, but I&#8217;m
+not going to lie down on him. And I&#8217;m not going
+back to the old man. He told me he was through
+with me. Once is a-plenty. I&#8217;m not begging him
+to take me back, not on your life.&#8221;</p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span>
+<img src='images/illus-098.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 367px; height: 567px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 367px;'>
+HE WAS THE MADDEST MAN IN ARIZONA.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Curly dropped the matter. To urge him further
+would only make the boy more set in his decision.
+But as the days passed he kept one thing
+in his mind, not to miss any chance to win his
+friendship. They rode together a good deal, and
+Flandrau found that Sam liked to hear him talk
+about the Circle C and its affairs. But often he
+was discouraged, for he made no progress in weaning
+him from his loyalty to Stone. The latter was
+a hero to him, and gradually he was filling him
+with wrong ideas, encouraging him the while to
+drink a great deal. That the man had some definite
+purpose Curly was sure. What it was he meant
+to find out.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile he played his part of a wild young
+cowpuncher ready for any mischief, but beneath his
+obtuse good humor Flandrau covered a vigilant
+wariness. Soapy held all the good cards now, but
+if he stayed in the game some of them would come
+to him. Then he would show Mr. Stone whether
+he would have everything his own way.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VIII_A_REHEARSED_QUARREL' id='VIII_A_REHEARSED_QUARREL'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+<h3>A REHEARSED QUARREL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Because he could not persuade him to join in
+their drinking bouts, Stone nicknamed Curly the
+good bad man.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s the prize tough in Arizona, only he&#8217;s promised
+his ma not to look on the wine when it is red,&#8221;
+Blackwell sneered.</p>
+<p>Flandrau smiled amiably, and retorted as best he
+could. It was his cue not to take offence unless
+it were necessary.</p>
+<p>It was perhaps on account of this good nature
+that Blackwell made a mistake. He picked on the
+young man to be the butt of his coarse pleasantries.
+Day after day he pointed his jeers at Curly, who
+continued to grin as if he did not care.</p>
+<p>When the worm turned, it happened that they
+were all sitting on the porch. Curly was sewing a
+broken stirrup leather, Blackwell had a quirt in his
+hand, and from time to time flicked it at the
+back of his victim. Twice the lash stung, not hard,
+but with pepper enough to hurt. Each time the
+young man asked him to stop.</p>
+<p>Blackwell snapped the quirt once too often.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span>
+When he picked himself out of the dust five seconds
+later, he was the maddest man in Arizona. Like a
+bull he lowered his head and rushed. Curly sidestepped
+and lashed out hard with his left.</p>
+<p>The convict whirled, shook the hair out of his
+eyes, and charged again. It was a sledge-hammer
+bout, with no rules except to hit the other man
+often and hard. Twice Curly went down from
+chance blows, but each time he rolled away and
+got to his feet before his heavy foe could close
+with him. Blackwell had no science. His arms
+went like flails. Though by sheer strength he kept
+Flandrau backing, the latter hit cleaner and with
+more punishing effect.</p>
+<p>Curly watched his chance, dodged a wild swing,
+and threw himself forward hard with his shoulder
+against the chest of the convict. The man staggered
+back, tripped on the lowest step of the porch,
+and went down hard. The fall knocked the breath
+out of him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Had enough?&#8221; demanded Curly.</p>
+<p>For answer Blackwell bit his thumb savagely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Since you like it so well, have another taste.&#8221;
+Curly, now thoroughly angry, sent a short-arm jolt
+to the mouth.</p>
+<p>The man underneath tried to throw him off, but
+Flandrau&#8217;s fingers found his hairy throat and tight-
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></p>
+<p>[Transcriber&#8217;s Note: the last line printed in the preceeding
+paragraph was &#8220;tight-&#8221; and that was at a page break. The
+continuation was not printed at the top of the following page.
+From the context, &#8220;tightened&#8221; is likely the completed word.]</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re killing me,&#8221; the convict gasped.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Enough?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Y-yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly stepped back quickly, ready either for a
+knife or a gun-play. Blackwell got to his feet, and
+glared at him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A man is like a watermelon; you can&#8217;t most
+generally tell how good he is till you thump him,&#8221;
+Sam chuckled.</p>
+<p>Cranston laughed. &#8220;Curly was not so ripe for
+picking as you figured, Lute. If you&#8217;d asked me,
+I could a-told you to put in yore spare time letting
+him alone. But a fellow has to buy his own experience.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The victor offered his hand to Blackwell. &#8220;I had
+a little luck. We&#8217;ll call it quits if you say so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I stumbled over the step,&#8221; the beaten man
+snarled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure. I had all the luck.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Looked to me like you were making yore own
+luck, kid,&#8221; Bad Bill differed.</p>
+<p>The paroled convict went into the house, swearing
+to get even. His face was livid with fury.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You wouldn&#8217;t think a little thing like a whaling
+given fair and square would make a man hold a
+grudge. My system has absorbed se-ve-real without
+doing it any harm.&#8221; Sam stooped to inspect
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span>
+a rapidly discoloring eye. &#8220;Say, Curly, he hung
+a peach of a lamp on you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Soapy made no comment in words, but he looked
+at Flandrau with a new respect. For the first time
+a doubt as to the wisdom of letting him stay at
+the ranch crossed his mind.</p>
+<p>His suspicion was justified. Curly had been living
+on the edge of a secret for weeks. Mystery
+was in the air. More than once he had turned a
+corner to find the other four whispering over something.
+The group had disintegrated at once with
+a casual indifference that did not deceive. Occasionally
+a man had ridden into the yard late at
+night for private talk with Stone, and Curly was
+morally certain that the man was the little cowpuncher
+Dutch of the Circle C.</p>
+<p>Through it all Curly wore a manner of open confidence.
+The furtive whisperings did not appear to
+arouse his curiosity, nor did he intercept any of the
+knowing looks that sometimes were exchanged.
+But all the time his brain was busy with questions.
+What were they up to? What was it they had
+planned?</p>
+<p>Stone and Blackwell rode away one morning.
+To Curly the word was given that they were going
+to Mesa. Four days later Soapy returned alone.
+Lute had found a job, he said.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That a paper sticking out of your pocket?&#8221;
+Flandrau asked.</p>
+<p>Soapy, still astride his horse, tossed the <i>Saguache
+Sentinel</i> to him as he turned toward the stable.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lie number one nailed,&#8221; Curly said to himself.
+&#8220;How came he with a Saguache paper if he&#8217;s been
+to Mesa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Caught between the folds of the paper was a
+railroad time table. It was a schedule of the trains
+of the Texas, Arizona &amp; Pacific for July. This
+was the twenty-ninth of June. Certainly Soapy
+had lost no time getting the new folder as soon as
+it was issued. Why? He might be going traveling.
+If so, what had that to do with the mystery
+agitating him and his friends?</p>
+<p>Curly turned the pages idly till a penciled marking
+caught his eye. Under Number 4&#8217;s time was
+scrawled, just below Saguache, the word Tin Cup,
+and opposite it the figures 10:19. The express
+was due to leave Saguache at 9:57 in the evening.
+From there it pushed up to the divide and slid
+down with air brakes set to Tin Cup three thousand
+feet lower. Soapy could not want to catch the
+train fifteen miles the other side of Saguache. But
+this note on the margin showed that he was interested
+in the time it reached the water tank.
+There must be a reason for it.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span></p>
+<p>Stone came back hurriedly from the corral, to
+find Curly absorbed in the Sentinel.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Seen anything of a railroad folder? I must
+a-dropped it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was stuck in the paper. I notice there&#8217;s liable
+to be trouble between Fendrick and the cattle interests
+over his sheep,&#8221; the reader answered casually.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yep. Between Fendrick and Cullison, anyhow.&#8221;
+Stone had reclaimed and pocketed his time
+table.</p>
+<p>Incidentally Flandrau&#8217;s doubt had been converted
+into a lively suspicion. Presently he took a gun,
+and strolled off to shoot birds. What he really
+wanted was to be alone so that he could think the
+matter over. Coming home in the dusk, he saw
+Stone and young Cullison with their heads together
+down by the corral. Curious to see how long this
+earnest talk would last, Curly sat down on a rock,
+and watched them, himself unobserved. They appeared
+to be rehearsing some kind of a scene, of
+which Soapy was stage director.</p>
+<p>The man on the rock smiled grimly. &#8220;They&#8217;re
+having a quarrel, looks like.... Now the
+kid&#8217;s telling Soapy to go to Guinea, and Soapy&#8217;s
+pawing around mad as a bull moose. It&#8217;s all a
+play. They don&#8217;t mean it. But why? I reckon
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span>
+this dress rehearsal ain&#8217;t for the calves in the corral.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly&#8217;s mind was so full of guesses that his
+poker was not up to par that night. About daybreak
+he began to see his way into the maze. His
+first gleam of light was when a row started between
+Soapy and Cullison. Before anyone could
+say a word to stop them they were going through
+with that identical corral quarrel.</p>
+<p>Flandrau knew now they had been preparing
+it for his benefit. Cranston chipped in against Sam,
+and to keep up appearances Curly backed the boy.
+The quarrel grew furious. At last Sam drove his
+fist down on the table and said he was through with
+the outfit and was going back to Saguache.</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Yo tambien</i>,&#8221; agreed Curly. &#8220;Not that I&#8217;ve
+got anything against the horse ranch. That ain&#8217;t
+it. But I&#8217;m sure pining for to bust the bank at
+Bronson&#8217;s.</p>
+<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>&#8216;Round and round the little ball goes,</p>
+<p  style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Where it will land nobody knows.&#8217;</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p>I&#8217;ve got forty plunks burning my jeans. I&#8217;ve got
+to separate myself from it or make my roll a thousand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The end of it was that both Sam and Curly went
+down to the corral and saddled their ponies. To
+the last the conspirators played up to their parts.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Damned good riddance,&#8221; Stone called after
+them as they rode away.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When I find out I&#8217;m doing business with four-flushers,
+I quit them cold,&#8221; Sam called back
+angrily.</p>
+<p>Curly was amused. He wanted to tell his friend
+that they had pulled off their little play very well.
+But he did not.</p>
+<p>Still according to program, Sam sulked for the
+first few miles of their journey. But before they
+reached the Bar 99 he grew sunny again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to have a talk with Laura while I&#8217;m
+so near,&#8221; he explained.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that will be fine. From the way the old
+man talked when I was there, I expect he&#8217;ll kill
+the fatted yearling for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t figure on including the old man in my
+call. What&#8217;s the use of having a friend along if
+you don&#8217;t use him? You drift in ... just
+happen along, you know. I&#8217;ll stay in the scrub
+pines up here. If the old man is absent scenery,
+you wave your bandanna real industrious. If he is
+at home, give Laura the tip and she&#8217;ll know where
+to find me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The owner of the ranch, as it happened, was cutting
+trail over by Agua Caliente.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you want to see him very bad, Mr. Flandrau?&#8221;
+asked Miss Laura demurely.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;My friends call me Curly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I meant to say Curly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what I thought. No, I can&#8217;t say I&#8217;ve
+lost Mr. London.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You inquired for him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hmp! That&#8217;s different. When I used to come
+home from the swimming hole contrary to orders,
+I used to ask where Dad was, but I didn&#8217;t want
+to see him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see. Did you just come down from the horse
+ranch?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve guessed it right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then I&#8217;m sorry I can&#8217;t ask you to &#8217;light. Dad&#8217;s
+orders.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve got lots of respect for his orders, haven&#8217;t
+you?&#8221; he derided.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I have.&#8221; She could not quite make up her
+mind whether to laugh or become indignant.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then there&#8217;s no use trying to tell you the news
+from the ranch.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A smile dimpled her cheeks and bubbled in her
+eyes. &#8220;If you should tell me, I suppose I couldn&#8217;t
+help hearing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I&#8217;m trying to figure out my duty. Maybe
+I oughtn&#8217;t to tempt you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;While you&#8217;re making up your mind, I&#8217;ll run
+back into the kitchen and look at the pies in the
+oven.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></p>
+<p>Curly swung from the saddle, and tossed the
+bridle rein to the ground. He followed her into
+the house. She was taking an apple pie from the
+oven, but took time to be saucy over her shoulder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not allowed to invite you into the house,
+sir.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anything in the by-laws about me inviting myself
+in?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, that wasn&#8217;t mentioned.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anything in them about you meeting one of the
+lads from the horse ranch up on the hillside where
+it is neutral ground?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did Sam come with you?&#8221; she cried.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who said anything about Sam?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Glints of excitement danced in the brown pupils
+of her eyes. &#8220;He&#8217;s here. Oh, I know he&#8217;s here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do I get for bringing good news?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t say it was good news.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sho! Your big eyes are shouting it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Was that the news from the horse ranch?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s part of it, but there is more. Sam and
+Curly are on their way to Saguache to spend the
+Fourth of July. Sam is going for another reason,
+but I&#8217;m not sure yet what it is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s something doing I don&#8217;t <i>savez</i>, some
+big deal on foot that&#8217;s not on the level. Sam is in
+it up to the hocks. To throw me off the scent they
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span>
+fixed up a quarrel among them. Sam is supposed
+to be quitting Soapy&#8217;s outfit for good. But I know
+better.&#8221;</p>
+<p>White to the lips, she faced him bravely. &#8220;What
+sort of trouble is he leading Sam into?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got a kind of a notion. But it won&#8217;t bear
+talking about yet. Don&#8217;t you worry, little girl.
+I&#8217;m going to stand by Sam. And don&#8217;t tell him
+what I&#8217;ve told you, unless you want to spoil my
+chance of helping him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t,&#8221; she promised; then added, with quick
+eagerness: &#8220;Maybe I can help you. I&#8217;m going
+down to Saguache to visit on the fourth. I&#8217;m to
+be there two weeks.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll look you up. Trouble is that Sam is hell
+bent on ruining himself. Seems to think Soapy is
+his best friend. If we could show him different
+things might work out all right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>While she climbed the hill to Sam, Curly watered
+his horse and smoked a cigarette. He was not hired
+to chaperone lovers. Therefore, it took him three-quarters
+of an hour to reach the scrub pine belt on
+the edge of the park.</p>
+<p>At once he saw that they had been having a
+quarrel. The girl&#8217;s eyes were red, and she was
+still dabbing at them with her handkerchief when
+he came whistling along. Sam looked discouraged,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span>
+but stubborn. Very plainly they had been disagreeing
+about his line of conduct.</p>
+<p>The two young men took the trail again. The
+moroseness of Sam was real and not affected this
+time. He had flared up because the girl could not
+let him alone about his friendship for Soapy Stone.
+In his heart the boy knew he was wrong, that he
+was moving fast in the wrong direction. But his
+pride would neither let him confess it or go back
+on his word to the men with whom he had been
+living.</p>
+<p>About noon the next day they reached Saguache.
+After they had eaten, Curly strolled off by himself
+to the depot.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gimme a ticket to Tin Cup for this evening. I
+want to go by the express,&#8221; he told the agent.</p>
+<p>The man looked at him and grinned. &#8220;I saw
+you at Mesa in the bucking broncho doings last
+year, didn&#8217;t I?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe you did and maybe you didn&#8217;t. Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You certainly stay with the bad bronchs to a
+fare-you-well. If I&#8217;d been judge you&#8217;d a-had first
+place, Mr. Flandrau.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Much obliged. And now you&#8217;ve identified me
+sufficient, how about that ticket?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was coming to that. Sure you can get a
+ticket. Good on any train. You&#8217;re so darned active,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span>
+maybe you could get off Number 4 when she
+is fogging along sixty miles per. But most folks
+couldn&#8217;t, not with any comfort.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Meaning that the Flyer doesn&#8217;t stop?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not at Tin Cup.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have to take the afternoon train then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I reckon.&#8221; He punched a ticket and shoved it
+through the window toward Curly. &#8220;Sixty-five
+cents, please.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flandrau paid for and pocketed the ticket he
+did not intend to use. He had found out what he
+wanted to know. The express did not stop at Tin
+Cup. Why, then, had Soapy marked the time of
+its arrival there? He was beginning to guess the
+reason. But he would have to do more than
+guess.</p>
+<p>Curly walked back to the business section from
+the depot. Already the town was gay with banners
+in preparation for the Fourth. On the program
+were broncho-busting, roping, Indian dances, races,
+and other frontier events. Already visitors were
+gathering for the festivities. Saguache, wide open
+for the occasion, was already brisk with an assorted
+population of many races. Mexicans, Chinese,
+Indians of various tribes brushed shoulders
+with miners, tourists and cattlemen. Inside the saloons
+faro, chuckaluck and roulette attracted each
+its devotees.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span></p>
+<p>Flandrau sauntered back to the hotel on the lookout
+for Sam. He was not there, but waiting for
+him was a boy with a note for the gentleman in
+Number 311.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Kid looking for you,&#8221; the clerk called to the
+cowpuncher.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you Mr. Soapy Stone&#8217;s friend, the one just
+down from Dead Cow creek?&#8221; asked the boy.</p>
+<p>Taken as a whole, the answer was open to debate.
+But Curly nodded and took the note.</p>
+<p>This was what he read:</p>
+<div class='blockquot'>
+<p>Sam, come to Chalkeye&#8217;s place soon as
+you get this. There we will talk over the
+business.</p>
+<div class='ra'>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>You Know Who</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+<p>Though he did not know who, Curly thought he
+could give a pretty good guess both as to the author
+and the business that needed talking over.</p>
+<p>Through the open door of the hotel he saw Sam
+approaching. Quickly he sealed the flap of the envelope
+again, and held it pressed against his fingers
+while he waited.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A letter for you, Sam.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cullison tore open the envelope and read the
+note.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A friend of mine has come to town and wants
+to see me,&#8221; he explained.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></p>
+<p>To help out his bluff, Curly sprang the feeble-minded
+jest on him. &#8220;Blonde or brunette?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m no lady&#8217;s man,&#8221; Sam protested, content to
+let the other follow a wrong scent.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure not. It never is a lady,&#8221; Flandrau called
+after him as he departed.</p>
+<p>But Sam had no more than turned the corner
+before Curly was out of a side door and cutting
+through an alley toward Chalkeye&#8217;s place. Reaching
+the back door of the saloon, he opened it a few
+inches and peered in. A minute later Sam opened
+the front screen and asked a question of the man
+in the apron. The bartender gave a jerk of his
+thumb. Sam walked toward the rear and turned
+in at the second private booth.</p>
+<p>Curly slipped forward quietly, and passed unobserved
+into the third stall. The wall which divided
+one room from another was of pine boarding
+and did not reach the ceiling. As the eavesdropper
+slid to a seat a phonograph in front began the Merry
+Widow waltz. Noiselessly Flandrau stood on the
+cushioned bench with his ear close to the top of
+the dividing wall. He could hear a murmur of
+voices but could not make out a word. The record
+on the instrument wheezed to silence, but immediately
+a rag-time tune followed.</p>
+<p>Presently the music died away. Flattened against
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span>
+the wall, his attention strained to the utmost, Curly
+began to catch words and phrases of the low-voiced
+speakers in the next compartment. His position
+was perilous in the extreme, but he would not leave
+now until he had found out what he wanted to
+know.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='IX_EAVESDROPPING' id='IX_EAVESDROPPING'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+<h3>EAVESDROPPING</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Out of the murmur of voices came one that Curly
+recognized as that of Soapy Stone, alias You Know
+Who.</p>
+<p>&#8220; ... then you&#8217;ll take the 9:57, Sam....&#8221;</p>
+<p>After more whispering, &#8220;Yep, soon as you hear
+the first shot ... cover the passengers....&#8221;</p>
+<p>The listener lost what followed. Once he thought
+he heard the name Tin Cup, but he could not be
+sure. Presently another fragment drifted to him.
+&#8220;...make our getaway and cache the plunder....&#8221;</p>
+<p>The phonograph lifted up its voice again. This
+time it was &#8220;I love a lassie.&#8221; Before the song was
+finished there came the sound of shuffling feet. One
+of the men in the next stall was leaving. Curly
+could not tell which one, nor did he dare look over
+the top of the partition to find out. He was playing
+safe. This adventure had caught him so unexpectedly
+that he had not found time to run back
+to his room for his six-gun. What would happen
+to him if he were caught listening was not a matter
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span>
+of doubt. Soapy would pump lead into him till he
+quit kicking, slap a saddle on a broncho, and light
+out for the Sonora line.</p>
+<p>As the phonograph finished unexpectedly&mdash;someone
+had evidently interrupted the record&mdash;the fragment
+of a sentence seemed to jump at Curly.</p>
+<p>&#8220; ... so the kid will get his in the row.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was the voice of Soapy, raised slightly to make
+itself heard above the music.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Take care,&#8221; another voice replied, and Flandrau
+would have sworn that this belonged to Blackwell.</p>
+<p>Stone, who had been sitting on the other side of
+the table, moved close to the paroled convict. Between
+him and Curly there was only the thickness
+of a plank. The young man was afraid that the
+knocking of his heart could be heard.</p>
+<p>&#8220; ... don&#8217;t like it,&#8221; Blackwell was objecting
+sullenly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Makes it safe for us. Besides&#8221;&mdash;Stone&#8217;s voice
+grated like steel rasping steel, every word distinct
+though very low&mdash;&#8220;I swore to pay off Luck Cullison,
+and by God! I&#8217;m going to do it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Someone will hear you if you ain&#8217;t careful,&#8221; the
+convict protested anxiously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be an old woman, Lute.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220; ... if you can do it safe. I owe Luck Cullison
+much as you do, but....&#8221;</p>
+<p>Again they fell to whispers. The next word that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span>
+came to Curly clearly was his own name. But it
+was quite a minute before he gathered what they
+were saying.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Luck Cullison went his bail. I learnt it this
+mo&#8217;ning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The son-of-a-gun. It&#8217;s a cinch he&#8217;s a spy. And
+me wanting you to let him in so&#8217;s he could hold
+the sack instead of Sam.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Knew it wouldn&#8217;t do, Lute. He&#8217;s smart as a
+whip.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Reckon he knows anything?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Can&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I thought he did&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Keep your shirt on, Lute. He don&#8217;t know a
+thing. And you get revenge on him all right. Sam
+will run with him and his friends while he&#8217;s here.
+Consequence is, when they find the kid where we
+leave him they&#8217;ll sure guess Curly for one of his
+pardners. Tell you his ticket is good as bought
+to Yuma. He&#8217;s a horse thief. Why shouldn&#8217;t he
+be a train robber, too. That&#8217;s how a jury will
+argue.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Blackwell grumbled something under his breath.</p>
+<p>Stone&#8217;s voice grated harshly. &#8220;Me too. If he
+crosses my trail I&#8217;m liable to spoil his hide before
+court meets. No man alive can play me for a sucker
+and throw me down. Not Soapy Stone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Once more the voices ran together indistinctly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span>
+It was not till Blackwell suggested that they go
+get a drink that Curly understood anything more
+of what was being said.</p>
+<p>The outlaws passed out of the little room and
+strolled forward to the bar.</p>
+<p>Curly had heard more than he had expected to.
+Moreover, as he congratulated himself, his luck had
+stood up fine. Nobody in the sunburnt territory
+felt happier than he did that minute when he struck
+the good fresh air of the alley and knew that he
+had won through his hazardous adventure alive.</p>
+<p>The first thing that Flandrau did was to walk
+toward the outskirts of the town where he could
+think it out by himself. But in this little old planet
+events do not always occur as a man plans them.
+Before he reached Arroyo street Curly came plump
+against his old range-mate Slats Davis.</p>
+<p>The assistant foreman of the Hashknife nodded
+as he passed. He had helped Curly escape less than
+a month before, but he did not intend to stay friendly
+with a rustler.</p>
+<p>Flandrau caught him by the arm. &#8220;Hello, Slats.
+You&#8217;re the man I want.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m pretty busy to-day,&#8221; Davis answered stiffly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Forget it. This is more important.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come along and take a walk. I got something
+to tell you.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t you tell it here?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t going to, anyhow. Come along. I ain&#8217;t
+got smallpox.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Reluctantly Davis fell in beside him. &#8220;All right.
+Cut it short. I&#8217;ve got to see a man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;ll have to wait.&#8221; Curly could not help chuckling
+to himself at the evident embarrassment of the
+other. The impish impulse to &#8220;devil&#8221; him had its
+way. &#8220;You&#8217;re a man of experience, Slats. Ever
+hold up a train?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The foreman showed plainly his disgust at this
+foolishness. &#8220;Haven&#8217;t you sense enough ever to
+be serious, Curly? You&#8217;re not a kid any more. In
+age you&#8217;re a grown man. But how do you act?
+Talk like that don&#8217;t do you any good. You&#8217;re in
+trouble good and deep. Folks have got their eyes
+on you. Now is the time to show them you have
+quit all that hell raising you have been so busy
+at.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He sure is going good this mo&#8217;ning,&#8221; Curly
+drawled confidentially to the scenery. &#8220;You would
+never guess, would you, that him and me had raised
+that crop in couples?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all right, too. I&#8217;m no sky pilot. But I
+know when to quit. Seemingly you don&#8217;t. I hear
+you&#8217;ve been up at Stone&#8217;s horse ranch. I want to
+tell you that won&#8217;t do you any good if it gets out.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Never was satisfied till I had rounded up all
+the trouble in sight. That&#8217;s why I mentioned this
+train robbery. Some of my friends are aiming to
+hold up one shortly. If you&#8217;d like to get in I&#8217;ll
+say a good word for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Davis threw at him a look that drenched like ice
+water. &#8220;I expect you and me are traveling different
+trails these days, Curly. You don&#8217;t mean it
+of course, but the point is I&#8217;m not going to joke
+with you along that line. Understand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wrong guess, old hoss. I do mean it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Davis stopped in his tracks. &#8220;Then you&#8217;ve said
+too much to me. We&#8217;ll part right here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It takes two to agree to that, Slats.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s where you&#8217;re wrong. One is enough.
+We used to be good friends, but those days are
+past. None of us can keep a man from being a
+durned fool if he wants to be one. Nor a scoundrel.
+You&#8217;ve got the bit in your teeth and I reckon you&#8217;ll
+go till there is a smash. But you better understand
+this. When you choose Soapy Stone&#8217;s, crowd to
+run with that cuts out me and other decent folks.
+If they have sent you here to get me mixed up in
+their deviltry you go back and tell them there&#8217;s
+nothing doing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Won&#8217;t have a thing to do with them. Is that
+it?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Not till the call comes for citizens to get together
+and run them out of the country. Or to put
+them behind bars. Or to string them to a cottonwood.
+Then I&#8217;ll be on the job.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He stood there quiet and easy, the look in his
+steady eyes piercing Curly&#8217;s ironic smile as a summer
+sun does mackerel clouds in a clear sky. Not
+many men would have had the courage to send
+that message to Soapy and his outfit. For Stone
+was not only a man killer, but a mean one at that.
+Since he had come back from the penitentiary he
+had been lying pretty low, but he brought down
+from the old days a record that chilled the blood.</p>
+<p>Curly sloughed his foolishness and came to the
+point.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re on, Slats. I&#8217;m making that call to you
+now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The eyes of the two men fastened. Those of
+Flandrau had quit dancing and were steady as the
+sun in a blue sky. Surprise, doubt, wonder, relief
+filled in turn the face of the other man.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m listening, Curly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>His friend told him the whole story from the
+beginning, just as he had been used to do in the
+old days. And Davis heard it without a word,
+taking the tale in quietly with a grim look settling,
+on his face.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;So he aims to play traitor to young Cullison.
+The thing is damnable.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He means to shut Sam&#8217;s mouth for good and
+all. That is what he has been playing for from
+the start, to get even with Luck. He and his gang
+will get away with the haul and they will leave Sam
+dead on the scene of the hold-up. There will be
+some shooting, and it will be figured the boy was
+hit by one of the train crew. Nothing could be
+easier.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If it worked out right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Couldn&#8217;t help working out right. That&#8217;s why
+Soapy didn&#8217;t let me in on the proposition. To get
+rid of one would be no great trouble, but two&mdash;well,
+that&#8217;s different. Besides, I could tell he was
+not sure of me. Now he aims to put me on the
+stand and prove by me that Sam and he had a
+quarrel and parted company mighty sore at each
+other hardly a week before the hold-up. He&#8217;ll have
+an alibi too to show he couldn&#8217;t have been in it.
+You&#8217;ll see.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You wouldn&#8217;t think a white man could take a
+revenge like that on his enemy. It&#8217;s an awful thing
+to do in cold blood.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Soapy is no white man. He&#8217;s a wolf. See how
+slick his scheme is. At one flip of the cards he kills
+the kid and damns his reputation. He scores Cullison
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span>
+and he snuffs out Sam, who had had the luck
+to win the girl Soapy fancies. The boy gets his
+and the girl is shown she can&#8217;t love another man
+than Stone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ever hear the story of French Dan?&#8221; asked
+Slats.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not to know the right of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Soapy and Dan trained together in them days
+and went through a lot of meanness as side pardners.
+One day the Arivaca stage was held up by
+two men and the driver killed. In the scrap one
+of the men had his mask torn off. It was French
+Dan. Well, the outlaws had been too damned busy.
+Folks woke up and the hills were sprinkled with
+posses. They ran the fellows down and hunted
+them from place to place. Two&mdash;three times they
+almost nailed them. Shots were exchanged. A
+horse of one of the fugitives was killed and they
+could not get another. Finally one dark night the
+outlaws were surrounded. The posse lay down in
+the zacaton and waited for morning. In the night
+one of them heard a faint sound like the popping
+of a cork. When mo&#8217;ning broke the hunters crept
+forward through the thick grass. Guess what they
+found.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly&#8217;s answer was prompt. &#8220;Gimme a harder
+one. There were two men and only one horse. The
+only chance was to slip through the line before day
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span>
+arrived. My guess is that they found French Dan
+with a little round hole in his skull&mdash;<i>and that the
+bullet making it had gone in from behind</i>. My
+guess also is that the posse didn&#8217;t find the horse
+and the other man, just a trail through the zacaton
+back into the hills.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go to the head of the class. There was one
+man too many in that thicket for the horse. French
+Dan&#8217;s pardner was afraid they might not agree
+about who was to have the bronch for a swift getaway.
+So he took no chances. There&#8217;s only one
+man alive to-day can swear that Soapy was the
+man with French Dan lying in the zacaton. And
+he&#8217;ll never tell, because he pumped the bullet into
+his friend. But one thing is sure. Soapy disappeared
+from Arizona for nearly two years. You
+can pick any reason you like for his going. That is
+the one I choose.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Same here. And the man that would shoot one
+partner in the back would shoot another if he had
+good reasons. By his way of it Soapy has reasons
+a-plenty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m satisfied that is his game. Question is how
+to block it. Will you go to the sheriff?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Bolt would fall down on it. First off, he
+would not believe the story because I&#8217;m a rustler
+myself. Soapy and his friends voted for Bolt. He
+would go to them, listen to their story, prove part
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span>
+of it by me, and turn them loose for lack of evidence.
+Sam would go back to Dead Cow with
+them, and Stone would weave another web for the
+kid.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve got it about right,&#8221; Slats admitted.
+&#8220;How about warning Sam?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No use. He would go straight to Soapy with
+it, and his dear friend would persuade him it was
+just a yarn cooked up to get him to throw down
+the only genuwine straight-up pal he ever had.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cullison then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re getting warm. I&#8217;ve had that notion myself.
+The point is, would he be willing to wait
+and let Soapy play his hand out till we called?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You would have to guarantee his boy would be
+safe meanwhile.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Two of us would have to watch him day and
+night without Sam knowing it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Count me in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is where we hit heavy traveling, Slats.
+For we don&#8217;t know when the thing is going to be
+pulled off.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll have to be ready. That&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Happen to know whether Dick Maloney is here
+for the show?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Saw him this mo&#8217;ning. Luck is here too, him
+and his girl.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good. We&#8217;ve got to have a talk with them,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span>
+and it has to be on the q.t. You go back to town
+and find Dick. Tell him to meet us at the Del
+Mar, where Luck always puts up. Find out the
+number of Cullison&#8217;s room and make an appointment.
+I&#8217;ll be on El Molino street all mo&#8217;ning off
+and on. When you find out pass me without stopping,
+but tell me when we are to meet and just
+where.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly gave Slats a quarter of an hour before
+sauntering back to town. As he was passing the
+Silver Dollar saloon a voice called him. Stone and
+Blackwell were standing in the door. Flandrau
+stopped.</p>
+<p>Soapy&#8217;s deep-set eyes blazed at him. &#8220;You didn&#8217;t
+tell me it was Luck Cullison went bail for you,
+Curly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You didn&#8217;t ask me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you and him are thick, are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve met him once, if that&#8217;s being thick. That
+time I shot him up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Funny. And then he went bail for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now I wonder why.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The eyes of the man had narrowed to red slits.
+His head had shot forward on his shoulders as
+that of a snake does. Curly would have given a
+good deal just then for the revolver lying on the
+bed of his room. For it was plain trouble was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span>
+in sight. The desperado had been drinking heavily
+and was ready to do murder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s easy to explain, Soapy. I shot him because
+I was driven to it. He&#8217;s too much of a man
+to bear a grudge for what I couldn&#8217;t help.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s it, is it? Does that explain why he dug
+up good money to turn loose a horse thief?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I told you why, you would not understand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s hear you try.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He did it because I was young, just as Sam is;
+and because he figured that some day Sam might
+need a friend, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a liar. He did it because you promised
+to sneak up to my ranch and spy on us. That&#8217;s why
+he did it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With the last word his gun jumped into sight.
+That he was lashing himself into a fury was plain.
+Presently his rage would end in a tragedy.</p>
+<p>Given a chance, Curly would have run for it.
+But Soapy was a dead shot. Of a sudden the anger
+in the boy boiled up over the fear. In two jumps
+he covered the ground and jammed his face close
+to the cold rim of the blue steel barrel.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not heeled. Shoot and be damned, you
+coward. And with my last breath I&#8217;ll tell you that
+you&#8217;re a liar.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flandrau had called his bluff, though he had not
+meant it as one. A dozen men were in sight and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span>
+were watching. They had heard the young man
+tell Stone he was not armed. Public opinion would
+hold him to account if he shot Curly down in cold
+blood. He hung there undecided, breathing fast,
+his jaw clamped tightly.</p>
+<p>The lad hammered home his defiance. &#8220;Drop
+that gun, you four-flusher, and I&#8217;ll whale you till
+you can&#8217;t stand. <i>Sabe?</i> Call yourself a bad man,
+do you? Time I&#8217;m through with you there will
+be one tame wolf crawling back to Dead Cow with
+its tail between its legs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The taunt diverted his mind, just as Curly had
+hoped it would. He thrust the revolver back into
+the holster and reached for his foe.</p>
+<p>Then everybody, hitherto paralyzed by the sight
+of a deadly weapon, woke up and took a hand.
+They dragged the two men apart. Curly was thrust
+into a barber shop on the other side of the street
+and Stone was dragged back into the Silver Dollar.</p>
+<p>In two minutes Flandrau had made himself
+famous, for he was a marked man. The last words
+of the straggling desperado had been that he would
+shoot on sight. Now half a dozen talked at once.
+Some advised Curly one thing, some another. He
+must get out of town. He must apologize at once
+to Stone. He must send a friend and explain.</p>
+<p>The young man laughed grimly. &#8220;Explain nothing.
+I&#8217;ve done all the explaining I&#8217;m going to.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span>
+And I&#8217;ll not leave town either. If Soapy wants
+me he&#8217;ll sure find me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be foolish, kid. He has got four notches
+on that gun of his. And he&#8217;s a dead shot.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The tongues of those about him galloped. Soapy
+was one of these Billy-the-Kid killers, the only one
+left from the old days. He could whang away at
+a quarter with that sawed-off .45 of his and hit it
+every crack. The sooner Curly understood that no
+boy would have a chance with him the better it
+would be. So the talk ran.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s got you bluffed to a fare-you-well. You&#8217;re
+tame enough to eat out of his hand. Didn&#8217;t Luck
+Cullison go into the hills and bring him down all
+alone?&#8221; Flandrau demanded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Luck&#8217;s another wonder. There ain&#8217;t another
+man in Arizona could have done it. Leastways no
+other but Bucky O&#8217;Connor.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Curly was excited, pleased with himself because
+he had stood up to the bogey man of the
+Southwest, and too full of strength to be afraid.</p>
+<p>Maloney came into the barber shop and grinned
+at him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, son!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Dick!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hear you and Soapy are figuring on setting
+off some fireworks this Fourth.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It did Curly good to see him standing there so
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span>
+easy and deliberate among the excitable town people.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Soapy is doing the talking.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I heard him; happened to be at the Silver Dollar
+when they dragged him in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Maloney&#8217;s eyebrows moved the least bit. His
+friend understood. Together they passed out of the
+back door of the shop into an alley. The others
+stood back and let them go. But their eyes did
+not leave Curly so long as he was in sight. Until
+this thing was settled one way or the other the
+young rustler would be one of the most important
+men in town. Citizens would defer to him that
+had never noticed him before. He carried with
+him a touch of the solemnity that is allowed only
+the dead or the dying.</p>
+<p>Back to the hotel the two ran. When Curly
+buckled on his revolver and felt it resting comfortably
+against his thigh he felt a good deal better.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve seen Slats Davis,&#8221; Maloney explained. &#8220;He
+has gone to find Luck, who is now at the Del Mar.
+At least he was an hour ago.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Had any talk with Slats?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. He said you&#8217;d do the talking.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m to wait for him on El Molino street to learn
+where I&#8217;m to meet Cullison.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That won&#8217;t do. You&#8217;d make too tempting a
+target. I&#8217;ll meet him instead.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That suited Curly. He was not hunting trouble
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span>
+just now, even though he would not run away from
+it. For he had serious business on hand that could
+not take care of itself if Soapy should kill him.</p>
+<p>Nearly an hour later Maloney appeared again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re to go right over to the Del Mar. Second
+floor, room 217. You are to go down El Molino to
+Main, then follow it to the hotel, keeping on the
+right hand side of the street. Slats will happen
+along the other side of the street and will keep
+abreast of you. Luck will walk with me behind
+you. Unless I yell your name don&#8217;t pay any attention
+to what is behind you. Soon as we reach the
+hotel Slats will cross the road and go in by the
+side door. You will follow him a few steps behind,
+and we&#8217;ll bring up the rear casually as if we hadn&#8217;t
+a thing to do with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re taking a heap of pains, seems to me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Want to keep you from getting spoilt till September
+term of court opens. Didn&#8217;t I promise Bolt
+you would show up?&#8221;</p>
+<p>They moved down the street as arranged. Every
+time a door opened in front of him, every time a
+man came out of a store or a saloon, Curly was
+ready for that lightning lift of the arm followed
+by a puff of smoke. The news of his coming passed
+ahead of him, so that windows were crowded with
+spectators. These were doomed to disappointment.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span>
+Nothing happened. The procession left behind it
+the Silver Dollar, the Last Chance, Chalkeye&#8217;s Place
+and Pete&#8217;s Palace.</p>
+<p>Reaching the hotel first, Davis disappeared according
+to program into the side door. Carly followed,
+walked directly up the stairs, along the corridor,
+and passed without knocking into Room 217.</p>
+<p>A young woman was sitting there engaged with
+some fancy work. Slender and straight, Kate Cullison
+rose and gave Curly her hand. For about two
+heartbeats her fingers lay cuddled in his big fist.
+A strange stifling emotion took his breath.</p>
+<p>Then her arm fell to her side and she was speaking
+to him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dad has gone to meet you. We&#8217;ve heard about
+what happened this morning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean what didn&#8217;t happen. Beats all how
+far a little excitement goes in this town,&#8221; he answered,
+embarrassed.</p>
+<p>Her father and Maloney entered the room. Cullison
+wrung his hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Glad to see you, boy. You&#8217;re in luck that convict
+did not shoot you up while he had the chance.
+Saguache is sure buzzing this mo&#8217;ning with the way
+you stood up to him. That little play of yours will
+help with the jury in September.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly thanked him for going bail.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span></p>
+<p>Luck fixed his steel-spoked eyes on him. &#8220;By
+what Dick tells me you&#8217;ve more than squared that
+account.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate explained in her soft voice. &#8220;Dick told us
+why you went up to Dead Cow creek.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sho! I hadn&#8217;t a thing to do, so I just ran
+up there. Sam&#8217;s in town with me. We&#8217;re rooming
+together.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, take me to him,&#8221; Kate cried.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not just now, honey,&#8221; her father said gently.
+&#8220;This young man came here to tell us something.
+Or so I gathered from his friend Davis.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flandrau told his story, or all of it that would
+bear telling before a girl. He glossed over his
+account of the dissipation at the horse ranch, but
+he told all he knew of Laura London and her interest
+in Sam. But it was when he related what
+he had heard at Chalkeye&#8217;s place that the interest
+grew most tense. While he was going over the plot
+to destroy young Cullison there was no sound in
+the room but his voice. Luck&#8217;s eyes burned like
+live coals. The color faded from the face of his
+daughter so that her lips were gray as cigar ash.
+Yet she sat up straight and did not flinch.</p>
+<p>When he had finished the owner of the Circle C
+caught his hand. &#8220;You&#8217;ve done fine, boy. Not a
+man in Arizona could have done it better.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span></p>
+<p>Kate said nothing in words but her dark longlashed
+eyes rained thanks upon him.</p>
+<p>They talked the situation over from all angles.
+Always it simmered down to one result. It was
+Soapy&#8217;s first play. Until he moved they could not.
+They had no legal evidence except the word of
+Curly. Nor did they know on what night he had
+planned to pull off the hold-up. If they were to
+make a complete gather of the outfit, with evidence
+enough to land them in the penitentiary, it could
+only be after the hold-up.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile there was nothing to do but wait and
+take what precautions they could against being
+caught by surprise. One of these was to see that
+Sam was never for an instant left unguarded either
+day or night. Another was to ride to Tin Cup and
+look the ground over carefully. For the present
+they could do no more than watch events, attracting
+no attention by any whispering together in
+public.</p>
+<p>Before the conference broke up Kate came in with
+her protest.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all very well, but what about Mr. Flandrau?
+He can&#8217;t stay in Saguache with that man
+threatening to kill him on sight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t worry about me, Miss Kate;&#8221; and Curly
+looked at her and blushed.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span></p>
+<p>Her father smiled grimly. &#8220;No, I wouldn&#8217;t, Kate.
+He isn&#8217;t going to be troubled by that wolf just
+now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doesn&#8217;t stand to reason he&#8217;d spoil all his plans
+just to bump me off.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But he might. He forgot all about his plans
+this morning. How do we know he mightn&#8217;t a
+second time?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you worry, honey. I&#8217;ve got a card up my
+sleeve,&#8221; Luck promised.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='X__STICK_TO_YOUR_SADDLE' id='X__STICK_TO_YOUR_SADDLE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+<h3>&#8220;STICK TO YOUR SADDLE&#8221;</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The old Arizona fashion of settling a difference
+of opinion with the six-gun had long fallen into
+disuse, but Saguache was still close enough to the
+stark primeval emotions to wait with a keen interest
+for the crack of the revolver that would put
+a period to the quarrel between Soapy Stone and
+young Flandrau. It was known that Curly had refused
+to leave town, just as it was known that
+Stone and that other prison bird Blackwell were
+hanging about the Last Chance and Chalkeye&#8217;s
+Place drinking together morosely. It was observed
+too that whenever Curly appeared in public he was
+attended by friends. Sometimes it would be Maloney
+and Davis, sometimes his uncle Alec Flandrau,
+occasionally a couple of the Map of Texas vaqueros.</p>
+<p>It chanced that &#8220;Old Man&#8221; Flandrau, drifting
+into Chalkeye&#8217;s Place, found in the assembled group
+the man he sought. Billie Mackenzie, grizzled
+owner of the Fiddleback ranch, was with him, and
+it was in the preliminary pause before drinking that
+Alec made his official announcement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Mac, I ain&#8217;t worrying about that any. Curly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span>
+is going to get a square deal. We&#8217;re all agreed on
+that. If there&#8217;s any shooting from cover there&#8217;ll
+be a lynching <i>pronto</i>. That goes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flandrau, Senior, did not glance at the sullen
+face of Lute Blackwell hovering in the background
+but he knew perfectly well that inside of an hour
+word would reach Soapy Stone that only an even
+break with Curly would be allowed.</p>
+<p>The day passed without a meeting between the
+two. Curly grew nervous at the delay.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m as restless as a toad on a hot skillet,&#8221; he
+confessed to Davis. &#8220;This thing of never knowing
+what minute Soapy will send me his leaden compliments
+ain&#8217;t any picnic. Wisht it was over.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s drinking himself blind. Every hour is to
+the good for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly shrugged. &#8220;Drunk or sober Soapy always
+shoots straight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Another day passed. The festivities had begun
+and Curly had to be much in evidence before the
+public. His friends had attempted to dissuade him
+from riding in the bucking broncho contest, but
+he had refused to let his name be scratched from
+the list of contestants.</p>
+<p>A thousand pair of eyes in the grandstand watched
+the boy as he lounged against the corral fence
+laughing and talking with his friends. A dozen
+people were on the lookout for the approach of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span>
+Stone. Fifty others had warned the young man
+to be careful. For Saguache was with him almost
+to a man.</p>
+<p>Dick Maloney heard his voice called as he was
+passing the grandstand, A minute later he was in
+the Cullison box shaking hands with Kate.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is&mdash;is there anything new?&#8221; she asked in a low
+voice.</p>
+<p>Her friend shook his head. &#8220;No. Soapy may
+drift out here any minute now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will he&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221; Her eyes finished the question.</p>
+<p>He shook his head. &#8220;Don&#8217;t know. That&#8217;s the
+mischief of it. If they should meet just after Curly
+finishes riding the boy won&#8217;t have a chance. His
+nerves won&#8217;t be steady enough.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dad is doing something. I don&#8217;t know what
+it is. He had a meeting with a lot of cattlemen
+about it&mdash;&mdash; I don&#8217;t see how that boy <i>can</i> sit
+there on the fence laughing when any minute&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Curly&#8217;s game as they make &#8217;em. He&#8217;s a prince,
+too. I like that boy better every day.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He doesn&#8217;t seem to me so&mdash;&mdash;wild. But they
+say he&#8217;s awfully reckless.&#8221; She said it with a visible
+reluctance, as if she wanted him to deny the charge.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sho! Curly needs explaining some. That&#8217;s all.
+Give a dog a bad name and hang him. That saying
+is as straight as the trail of a thirsty cow. The
+kid got off wrong foot first, and before he&#8217;d hardly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span>
+took to shaving respectable folks were hunting the
+dictionary to find bad names to throw at him. He
+was a reprobate and no account. Citizens that
+differed on everything else was unanimous about
+that. Mothers kinder herded their young folks in
+a corral when he slung his smile their way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But why?&#8221; she persisted. &#8220;What had he done?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gambled his wages, and drank some, and, beat
+up Pete Schiff, and shot the lights out of the Legal
+Tender saloon. That&#8217;s about all at first.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wasn&#8217;t it enough?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Most folks thought so. So when Curly bumped
+into them keep-off-the-grass signs parents put up
+for him he had to prove they were justified. That&#8217;s
+the way a kid acts. Half the bad men are only
+coltish cowpunchers gone wrong through rotten
+whiskey and luck breaking bad for them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is Soapy that kind?&#8221; she asked, but not because
+she did not know the answer.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s the other kind, bad at the heart. But Curly
+was just a kid crazy with the heat when he made
+that fool play of rustling horses.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A lad made his way to them with a note. Kate
+read it and turned to Dick. Her eyes were shining
+happily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got news from Dad. It&#8217;s all right. Soapy
+Stone has left town.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;A dozen of the big cattlemen signed a note and
+sent it to Stone. They told him that if he touched
+Curly he would never leave town alive. He was
+given word to get out of town at once.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Maloney slapped his hand joyously on his thigh.
+&#8220;Fine! Might a-known Luck would find a way
+out. I tell you this thing has been worying me.
+Some of us wanted to take it off Curly&#8217;s hands,
+but he wouldn&#8217;t have it. He&#8217;s a man from the
+ground up, Curly is. But your father found a way
+to butt in all right. Soapy couldn&#8217;t stand
+out against the big ranchmen when they got
+together and meant business. He had to pull his
+freight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me tell him the good news, Dick,&#8221; she said,
+eagerly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure. I&#8217;ll send him right up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bronzed almost to a coffee brown, with the lean
+lithe grace of youth garbed in the picturesque
+regalia of the <i>vaquero</i>, Flandrau was a taking
+enough picture to hold the roving eye of any girl.
+A good many centered upon him now, as he sauntered
+forward toward the Cullison box cool and
+easy and debonair. More than one pulse quickened
+at sight of him, for his gallantry, his peril and his
+boyishness combined to enwrap him in the atmosphere
+of romance. Few of the observers knew what
+a wary vigilance lay behind that careless manner.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span></p>
+<p>Kate gathered her skirts to make room for him
+beside her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you heard? He has left town.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Soapy Stone. The cattlemen served notice on
+him to go. So he left.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A wave of relief swept over the young man.
+&#8220;That&#8217;s your father&#8217;s fine work.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t it good?&#8221; Her eyes were shining with
+gladness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m plumb satisfied,&#8221; he admitted. &#8220;I&#8217;m not
+hankering to shoot out my little difference with
+Soapy. He&#8217;s too handy with a six-gun.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so happy I don&#8217;t know what to do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose now the hold-up will be put off. Did
+Sam and Blackwell go with him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. He went alone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you seen Sam yet?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, but I&#8217;ve seen Laura London. She&#8217;s all the
+nice things you&#8217;ve said about her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly grew enthusiastic, &#8220;Ain&#8217;t she the dandiest
+girl ever? She&#8217;s the right kind of a friend. And
+pretty&mdash;with that short crinkly hair the color of
+ripe nuts! You would not think one person could
+own so many dimples as she does when she laughs.
+It&#8217;s just like as if she had absorbed sunshine and
+was warming you up with her smile.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see she has made a friend of you.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet she has.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Miss Cullison shot a swift slant glance at him.
+&#8220;If you&#8217;ll come back this afternoon you can meet
+her. I&#8217;m going to have all those dimples and all
+that sunshine here in the box with me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe that will draw Sam to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m hoping it will. But I&#8217;m afraid not. He
+avoids us. When they met he wouldn&#8217;t speak to
+Father.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the boy of it. Just the same he feels
+pretty bad about the quarrel. I reckon there&#8217;s nothing
+to do but keep an eye on him and be ready for
+Soapy&#8217;s move when he makes it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so afraid something will happen to Sam.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now don&#8217;t you worry, Miss Kate. Sam is going
+to come out of this all right. We&#8217;ll find a
+way out for him yet.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Behind her smile the tears lay close. &#8220;You&#8217;re
+the <i>best</i> friend. How can we ever thank you for
+what you&#8217;re doing for Sam?&#8221;</p>
+<p>A steer had escaped from the corral and was
+galloping down the track in front of the grandstand
+with its tail up. The young man&#8217;s eyes followed the
+animal absently as he answered in a low voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you reckon I have forgot how a girl took
+a rope from my neck one night? Do you reckon
+I ever forget that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was nothing. I just spoke to the boys.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Or that I don&#8217;t remember how the man I had
+shot went bail for a rustler he did not know?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dick knew you. He told us about you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Could he tell you any good about me? Could
+he say anything except that I was a worthless
+no-&#8217;count&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She put her hand on his arm and stopped him.
+&#8220;Don&#8217;t! I won&#8217;t have you say such things about
+yourself. You were just a boy in trouble.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How many would have remembered that? But
+you did. You fought good for my life that night.
+I&#8217;ll pay my debt, part of it. The whole I never
+could pay.&#8221;</p>
+<p>His voice trembled in spite of the best he could
+do. Their eyes did not meet, but each felt the
+thrill of joy waves surging through their veins.</p>
+<p>The preliminaries in the rough riding contest
+took place that afternoon. Of the four who won
+the right to compete in the finals, two were Curly
+Flandrau and Dick Maloney. They went together
+to the Cullison box to get the applause due them.</p>
+<p>Kate Cullison had two guests with her. One was
+Laura London, the other he had never seen. She
+was a fair young woman with thick ropes of yellow
+hair coiled round her head. Deep-breasted and
+robust-loined, she had the rich coloring of the
+Scandinavian race and much of the slow grace
+peculiar to its women.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span></p>
+<p>The hostess pronounced their names. &#8220;Miss
+Anderson, this is Mr. Flandrau. Mr. Flandrau&mdash;Miss
+Anderson.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly glanced quickly at Kate Cullison, who
+nodded. This then was the sweetheart of poor Mac.</p>
+<p>Her eyes filled with tears as she took the young
+man&#8217;s hand. To his surprise Curly found his throat
+choking up. He could not say a word, but she
+understood the unspoken sympathy. They sat together
+in the back of the box.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d like to come and talk to you about&mdash;Mac.
+Can I come this evening, say?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate gave them no more time for dwelling on
+the past.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You did ride so splendidly,&#8221; she told Curly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No better than Dick did,&#8221; he protested.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t say any better than Dick. You both
+did fine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The judges will say you ride better. You&#8217;ve
+got first place cinched,&#8221; Maloney contributed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sho! Just because I cut up fancy didoes on
+a horse. Grandstand stunts are not riding. For
+straight stick-to-your-saddle work I know my boss,
+and his name is Dick Maloney.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll know to-morrow,&#8221; Laura London summed
+up.</p>
+<p>As it turned out, Maloney was the better prophet.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span>
+Curly won the first prize of five hundred dollars
+and the championship belt. Dick took second place.</p>
+<p>Saguache, already inclined to make a hero of the
+young rustler, went wild over his victory. He
+could have been chosen mayor that day if there
+had been an election. To do him justice, Curly
+kept his head remarkably well.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To be a human clothes pin ain&#8217;t so much,&#8221; he
+explained to Kate. &#8220;Just because a fellow can stick
+to the hurricane deck of a bronch without pulling
+leather whilst it&#8217;s making a milk shake out of him
+don&#8217;t prove that he has got any more brains or
+decency than the law allows. Say, ain&#8217;t this a
+peach of a mo&#8217;ning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A party of young people were taking an early
+morning ride through the outskirts of the little
+city. Kate pulled her pony to a walk and glanced
+across at him. He had taken off his hat to catch the
+breeze, and the sun was picking out the golden
+lights in his curly brown hair. She found herself
+admiring the sure poise of the head, the flat straight
+back, the virile strength of him.</p>
+<p>It did not occur to her that she herself made a
+picture to delight the heart. The curves of her
+erect tiger-lithe young body were modeled by nature
+to perfection. Radiant with the sheer pleasure of
+life, happy as God&#8217;s sunshine, she was a creature
+vividly in tune with the glad morning.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Anyhow, I&#8217;m glad you won.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Their eyes met. A spark from his flashed deep
+into hers as a star falls through the heavens on
+a summer night. Each looked away. After one
+breathless full-pulsed moment she recovered herself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wouldn&#8217;t it be nice if&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>His gaze followed hers to two riders in front of
+them. One was Maloney, the other Myra Anderson.
+The sound of the girl&#8217;s laughter rippled back
+to them on the light breeze.</p>
+<p>Curly smiled. &#8220;Yes, that would be nice. The
+best I can say for her&mdash;and it&#8217;s a whole lot&mdash;is
+that I believe she&#8217;s good enough for Dick.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the best I can say for him is that he&#8217;s good
+enough for her,&#8221; the girl retorted promptly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then let&#8217;s hope&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t think of anything that would please me
+more.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked away into the burning sun on the
+edge of the horizon. &#8220;I can think of one thing
+that would please me more,&#8221; he murmured.</p>
+<p>She did not ask him what it was, nor did he
+volunteer an explanation. Perhaps it was from the
+rising sun her face had taken its swift glow of warm
+color.</p>
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<h2>PART II</h2>
+<h3>LUCK</h3>
+
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='I_AT_THE_ROUND_UP_CLUB' id='I_AT_THE_ROUND_UP_CLUB'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+<h3>AT THE ROUND UP CLUB</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>A big game had been in progress all night at the
+Round Up Club. Now the garish light of day
+streamed through the windows, but the electric
+cluster still flung down its yellow glare upon the
+table. Behind the players were other smaller tables
+littered with cigars, discarded packs, and glasses
+full or empty. The men were in their shirt sleeves.
+Big broad-shouldered fellows they were, with the
+marks of the outdoors hard-riding West upon them.
+No longer young, they were still full of the vigor
+and energy of unflagging strength. From bronzed
+faces looked steady unwinking eyes with humorous
+creases around the corners, hard eyes that judged
+a man and his claims shrewdly and with good temper.
+Most of them had made good in the land,
+and their cattle fed upon a thousand hills.</p>
+<p>The least among them physically was Luck Cullison,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span>
+yet he was their recognized leader. There
+was some innate quality in this man with the gray,
+steel-chilled eyes that marked him as first in whatever
+company he chose to frequent. A good friend
+and a good foe, men thought seriously before they
+opposed him. He had made himself a power in the
+Southwest because he was the type that goes the
+limit when aroused. Yet about him, too, there was
+the manner of a large amiability, of the easy tolerance
+characteristic of the West.</p>
+<p>While Alec Flandrau shuffled and dealt, the players
+relaxed. Cigars were relit, drinks ordered.
+Conversation reverted to the ordinary topics that
+interested Cattleland. The price of cows, the good
+rains, the time of the fall roundup, were touched
+upon.</p>
+<p>The door opened to let in a newcomer, a slim,
+graceful man much younger than the others present,
+and one whose costume and manner brought
+additional color into the picture. Flandrau, Senior,
+continued to shuffle without turning his head. Cullison
+also had his back to the door, but the man
+hung his broad-rimmed gray hat on the rack&mdash;beside
+an exactly similar one that belonged to the
+owner of the Circle C&mdash;and moved leisurely forward
+till he was within range of his vision.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Going to prove up soon on that Del Oro claim
+of yours, Luck?&#8221; asked Flandrau.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span></p>
+<p>He was now dealing, his eyes on the cards, so
+that he missed the embarrassment in the faces of
+those about him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;On Thursday, the first day the law allows,&#8221; Cullison
+answered quietly.</p>
+<p>Flandrau chuckled. &#8220;I reckon Cass Fendrick
+will be some sore.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I expect.&#8221; Cullison&#8217;s gaze met coolly the black,
+wrathful eyes of the man who had just come in.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sort of put a crimp in his notions when you
+took up the cañon draw,&#8221; Flandrau surmised.</p>
+<p>Something in the strained silence struck the
+dealer as unusual. He looked up, and showed a
+momentary confusion.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t know you were there, Cass. Looks like
+I put my foot in it sure that time. I ce&#8217;tainly
+thought you were an absentee,&#8221; he apologized.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Or you wouldn&#8217;t have been talking about me,&#8221;
+retorted Fendrick acidly. The words were flung
+at Flandrau, but plainly they were meant as a challenge
+for Cullison.</p>
+<p>A bearded man, the oldest in the party, cut in
+with good-natured reproof. &#8220;I shouldn&#8217;t wonder,
+Cass, but your name is liable to be mentioned just
+like that of any other man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t know you were in this, Yesler,&#8221; Fendrick
+drawled insolently.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well, I butted in,&#8221; the other laughed easily.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span>
+He pushed a stack of chips toward the center of
+the table. &#8220;The pot&#8217;s open.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick, refused a quarrel, glared at the impassive
+face of Cullison, and passed to the rear
+room for a drink. His impudence needed fortifying,
+for he knew that since he had embarked in
+the sheep business he was not welcome at this club,
+that in fact certain members had suggested his
+name be dropped from the books. Before he returned
+to the poker table the drink he had ordered
+became three.</p>
+<p>The game was over and accounts were being
+straightened. Cullison was the heavy loser. All
+night he had been bucking hard luck. His bluffs
+had been called. The others had not come in
+against his strong hands. On a straight flush he
+had drawn down the ante and nothing more. To
+say the least, it was exasperating. But his face had
+showed no anger. He had played poker too many
+years, was too much a sport in the thorough-going
+frontier fashion, to wince when the luck broke
+badly for him.</p>
+<p>The settlement showed that the owner of the Circle
+C was twenty-five hundred dollars behind the
+game. He owed Mackenzie twelve hundred, Flandrau
+four hundred, and three hundred to Yesler.</p>
+<p>With Fendrick sitting in an easy chair just across
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span>
+the room, he found it a little difficult to say what
+otherwise would have been a matter of course.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My bank&#8217;s busted just now, boys. Have to ask
+you to let it stand for a few days. Say, till the
+end of the week.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick laughed behind the paper he was pretending
+to read. He knew quite well that Luck&#8217;s
+word was as good as his bond, but he chose to suggest
+a doubt.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe you&#8217;ll explain the joke to us, Cass,&#8221; the
+owner of the Circle C said very quietly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I was just laughing at the things I see,
+Luck,&#8221; returned the younger man with airy offense,
+his eyes on the printed sheet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Meaning for instance?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just human nature. Any law against laughing?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cullison turned his back on him. &#8220;See you on
+Thursday if that&#8217;s soon enough, boys.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All the time you want, Luck. Let mine go till
+after the roundup if you&#8217;d rather,&#8221; Mackenzie suggested.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thursday suits me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cullison rose and stretched. He had impressed
+his strong, dominant personality upon his clothes,
+from the high-heeled boots to the very wrinkles in
+the corduroy coat he was now putting on. He bad
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span>
+enemies, a good many of them, but his friends were
+legion.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t hurry yourself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;ll rustle the money, all right. Coming
+down to the hotel?&#8221; Luck was reaching for his
+hat, but turned toward his friends as he spoke.</p>
+<p>Without looking again at Fendrick, he led the
+way to the street.</p>
+<p>The young man left alone cursed softly to himself,
+and ordered another drink. He knew he was
+overdoing it, but the meeting with Cullison had annoyed
+him exceedingly. The men had never been
+friends, and of late years they had been leaders of
+hostile camps. Both of them could be overbearing,
+and there was scarcely a week but their interests
+overlapped. Luck was capable of great generosity,
+but he could be obstinate as the rock of
+Gibraltar when he chose. There had been differences
+about the ownership of calves, about straying
+cattle, about political matters. Finally had come
+open hostility. Cass leased from the forestry department
+the land upon which Cullison&#8217;s cattle had
+always run free of expense. Upon this he had put
+sheep, a thing in itself of great injury to the cattle
+interests. The stockmen had all been banded together
+in opposition to the forestry administration
+of the new régime, and Luck regarded Fendrick&#8217;s
+action as treachery to the common cause.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span></p>
+<p>He struck back hard. In Arizona the open range
+is valuable only so long as the water holes also are
+common property or a private supply available. The
+Circle C cattle and those of Fendrick came down
+from the range to the Del Oro to water at a point
+where the cañon walls opened to a spreading valley.
+This bit of meadow Luck homesteaded and fenced
+on the north side, thus cutting the cattle of his enemy
+from the river.</p>
+<p>Cass was furious. He promptly tore down the
+fence to let his cattle and sheep through. Cullison
+rebuilt it, put up a shack at a point which commanded
+the approach, and set a guard upon it day
+and night. Open warfare had ensued, and one of
+the sheepherders had been beaten because he persisted
+in crossing the dead line.</p>
+<p>Now Cullison was going to put the legal seal on
+the matter by making final proof on his homestead.
+Cass knew that if he did so it would practically put
+him out of business. He would be at the mercy
+of his foe, who could ruin him if he pleased.
+Luck would be in a position to dictate terms absolutely.</p>
+<p>Nor did it make his defeat any more palatable to
+Cass that he had brought it on himself by his bad-tempered
+unneighborliness and by his overreaching
+disposition. A hundred times he had blacknamed
+himself for an arrant fool because he had not anticipated
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span>
+the move of his enemy and homesteaded on
+his own account.</p>
+<p>He felt that there must be some way out of the
+trap if he could only find it. Whenever the thought
+of eating humble pie to Luck came into his mind,
+the rage boiled in him. He swore he would not
+do it. Better a hundred times to see the thing out
+to a fighting finish.</p>
+<p>Taking the broad-rimmed gray hat he found on
+the rack, Cass passed out of the clubhouse and into
+the sun-bathed street.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='II_LUCK_MEETS_AN_OLD_ACQUAINTANCE' id='II_LUCK_MEETS_AN_OLD_ACQUAINTANCE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+<h3>LUCK MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Cullison and his friends proceeded down Papago
+street to the old plaza where their hotel was located.
+Their transit was an interrupted one, for
+these four cattlemen were among the best known
+in the Southwest. All along the route they scattered
+nods of recognition, friendly greetings, and
+genial banter. One of them&mdash;the man who had
+formerly been the hard-riding, quick-shooting
+sheriff of the county&mdash;met also scowls once or
+twice, to which he was entirely indifferent. Luck
+had no slavish respect for law, had indeed, if rumor
+were true, run a wild and stormy course in his
+youth. But his reign as sheriff had been a terror
+to lawbreakers. He had made enemies, desperate
+and unscrupulous ones, who had sworn to wipe him
+from among the living, and one of these he was
+now to meet for the first time since the man had
+stood handcuffed before him, livid with fury, and
+had sworn to cut his heart out at the earliest chance.</p>
+<p>It was in the lobby of the hotel that Cullison
+came plump against Lute Blackwell. For just a
+moment they stared at each other before the former
+sheriff spoke.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Out again, eh, Blackwell?&#8221; he said easily.</p>
+<p>From the bloodshot eyes one could have told at
+a glance the man had been drinking heavily. From
+whiskey he had imbibed a Dutch courage just bold
+enough to be dangerous.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I&#8217;m out&mdash;and back again, just as I promised,
+Mr. Sheriff,&#8221; he threatened.</p>
+<p>The cattleman ignored his manner. &#8220;Then I&#8217;ll
+give you a piece of advice gratis. Papago County
+has grown away from the old days. It has got past
+the two-gun man. He&#8217;s gone to join the antelope
+and the painted Indian. You&#8217;ll do well to remember
+that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The fellow leaned forward, sneering so that his
+ugly mouth looked like a crooked gash. &#8220;How
+about the one-gun man, Mr. Sheriff?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He doesn&#8217;t last long now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doesn&#8217;t he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The man&#8217;s rage boiled over. But Luck was far
+and away the quicker of the two. His left hand
+shot forward and gripped the rising wrist, his right
+caught the hairy throat and tightened on it. He
+shook the convict as if he had been a child, and
+flung him, black in the face, against the wall, where
+he hung, strangling and sputtering.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I&#8217;ll get you yet,&#8221; the ruffian panted. But he
+did not again attempt to reach for the weapon in
+his hip pocket.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You talk too much with your mouth.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With superb contempt, Luck slapped him, turned
+on his heel, and moved away, regardless of the raw,
+stark lust to kill that was searing this man&#8217;s elemental
+brain.</p>
+<p>Across the convict&#8217;s rage came a vision. He saw
+a camp far up in the Rincons, and seated around a
+fire five men at breakfast, all of them armed. Upon
+them had come one man suddenly. He had dominated
+the situation quietly, had made one disarm
+the others, had handcuffed the one he wanted and
+taken him from his friends through a hostile country
+where any hour he might be shot from ambush.
+Moreover, he had traveled with his prisoner
+two days, always cheerful and matter of fact, not
+at all uneasy as to what might lie behind the washes
+or the rocks they passed. Finally he had brought
+his man safely to Casa Grande, from whence he had
+gone over the road to the penitentiary. Blackwell
+had been the captured man, and he held a deep respect
+for the prowess of the officer who had taken
+him. The sheer pluck of the adventure had alone
+made it possible. For such an unflawed nerve
+Blackwell knew his jerky rage was no match.</p>
+<p>The paroled convict recovered his breath and
+slunk out of the hotel.</p>
+<p>Billie Mackenzie, owner of the Fiddleback ranch,
+laughed even while he disapproved. &#8220;Some day,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span>
+Luck, you&#8217;ll get yours when you are throwing
+chances at a coyote like this. You&#8217;ll guess your
+man wrong, or he&#8217;ll be one glass drunker than you
+figure on, and then he&#8217;ll plug you through and
+through.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The man that takes chances lives longest, Mac,&#8221;
+his friend replied, dismissing the subject carelessly.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m going to tuck away about three hours of sleep.
+So long.&#8221; And with a nod he was gone to his
+room.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All the same Luck&#8217;s too derned rash,&#8221; Flandrau
+commented. &#8220;He&#8217;ll run into trouble good and hard
+one of these days. When I&#8217;m in Rattlesnake Gulch
+I don&#8217;t aim to pick posies too unobservant.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mackenzie looked worried. No man lived whom
+he admired so much as Luck Cullison. &#8220;And he
+hadn&#8217;t ought to be sitting in these big games. He&#8217;s
+hard up. Owes a good bit here and there. Always
+was a spender. First thing he&#8217;ll have to sell the
+Circle C to square things. He&#8217;ll pay us this week
+like he said he would. That&#8217;s dead sure. He&#8217;d die
+before he&#8217;d fall down on it, now Fendrick has got
+his back up. But I swear I don&#8217;t know where he&#8217;ll
+raise the price. Money is so tight right now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That afternoon Luck called at every bank in
+Saguache. All of the bankers knew him and were
+friendly to him, but in spite of their personal regard
+they could do nothing for him.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s this stringency, Luck,&#8221; Jordan of the Cattlemen&#8217;s
+National explained to him. &#8220;We can&#8217;t let
+a dollar go even on the best security. You know
+I&#8217;d like to let you have it, but it wouldn&#8217;t be right
+to the bank. We&#8217;ve got to keep our reserve up.
+Why, I&#8217;m lying awake nights trying to figure out a
+way to call in more of our money.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not asking much, Jack.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Luck, I&#8217;d let you have it if I dared. Why,
+we&#8217;re running close to the wind. Public confidence
+is a mighty ticklish thing. If I didn&#8217;t have twenty
+thousand coming from El Paso on the Flyer to-night
+I&#8217;d be uneasy for the bank.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Twenty thousand on the Flyer. I reckon you
+ship by express, don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Don&#8217;t mention it to anyone. That twenty
+thousand would come handy to a good many people
+in this country these times.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It would come right handy to me,&#8221; Luck
+laughed ruefully. &#8220;I need every cent of it. After
+the beef roundup, I&#8217;ll be on Easy Street, but it&#8217;s
+going to be hard sledding to keep going till then.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll make a turn somehow. It will work out.
+Maybe when money isn&#8217;t so tight I&#8217;ll be able to do
+something for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck returned to the hotel morosely, and tried
+to figure a way out of his difficulties. He was not
+going to be beaten. He never had accepted defeat,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span>
+even in the early days when he had sometimes taken
+a lawless short cut to what he wanted. By God,
+he would not lose out after all these years of fighting.
+It had been his desperate need of money that
+had made him sit in last night&#8217;s poker game. But
+he had succeeded only in making a bad situation
+worse. He knew his debts by heart, but he jotted
+them down on the back of an envelope and added
+them again.</p>
+<table summary=''>
+<tr><td>Mortgage on ranch (due Oct. 1),</td><td align='right'>$13,000</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Note to First National,</td><td align='right'>3,500</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Note to Reynolds,</td><td align='right'>1,750</td></tr>
+<tr><td>I O U to Mackenzie,</td><td align='right'>1,200</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Same to Flandrau,</td><td align='right'>400</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Same to Yesler,</td><td align='right'>300</td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td align='right'>&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>Total, $20,150</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>Twenty thousand was the sum he needed, and
+mighty badly, too. Absentmindedly he turned the
+envelope over and jotted down one or two other
+things. Twenty thousand dollars! Just the sum
+Jordan had coming to the bank on the Flyer. Subconsciously,
+Luck&#8217;s fingers gave expression to his
+thoughts. $20,000. Half a dozen times they penciled
+it, and just below the figures, &#8220;W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. Ex.
+Co.&#8221; Finally they wrote automatically the one
+word, &#8220;To-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck looked at what he had written, laughed
+grimly, and tore the envelope in two. He threw
+the pieces in the waste paper basket.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='III_AN_INITIALED_HAT' id='III_AN_INITIALED_HAT'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+<h3>AN INITIALED HAT</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mackenzie was reading the <i>Sentinel</i> while he ate
+a late breakfast. He had it propped against the
+water bottle, so that it need not interfere with the
+transportation of sausages, fried potatoes, hot cakes,
+and coffee to their common destination.</p>
+<p>Trying to do two things at once has its disadvantages.
+A startling headline caught his eyes just
+as the cup was at his lips. Hot coffee, precipitately
+swallowed, scalded his tongue and throat. He set
+down the cup, swore mildly, and gave his attention
+to the news that had excited him. The reporter
+had run the story to a column, but the leading
+paragraph gave the gist of it:</p>
+<div class='blockquot'>
+<p>While the citizens of Saguache were
+peacefully sleeping last night, a lone
+bandit held up the messengers of the
+Western and Southern Express Company,
+and relieved them of $20,000 just received
+from El Paso on the Flyer.</p>
+<p>Perry Hawley, the local manager of the
+company, together with Len Rogers, the
+armed guard, had just returned from the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span>
+depot, where the money had been turned
+over to them and receipted for. Hawley
+had unlocked the door of the office and
+had stepped in, followed by Rogers, when
+a masked desperado appeared suddenly
+out of the darkness, disarmed the guard
+and manager, took the money, passed
+through the door and locked it after him,
+and vanished as silently as he had come.
+Before leaving, he warned his victims that
+the place would be covered for ten minutes
+and at any attempt to call for help
+they would be shot. Notwithstanding
+this, the imprisoned men risked their lives
+by raising the alarm.</p>
+</div>
+<p>Further down the page Mackenzie discovered
+that the desperado was still at large, but that Sheriff
+Bolt expected shortly to lay hands on him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll bet a dollar Nick Bolt didn&#8217;t make any such
+claim to the reporter. He ain&#8217;t the kind that
+brags,&#8221; Mackenzie told himself.</p>
+<p>He folded the paper and returned to his room
+to make preparation to return to his ranch. The
+buzz of the telephone called him to the receiver.
+The voice of Cullison reached him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That you, Mac. I&#8217;ll be right up. No, don&#8217;t
+come down. I&#8217;d rather see you alone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The owner of the Circle C came right to business.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve made a raise, Mac, and while I&#8217;ve got
+it I&#8217;m going to skin off what&#8217;s coming to you.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></p>
+<p>He had taken a big roll of bills from his pocket,
+and was counting off what he had lost to his friend.
+The latter noticed that it all seemed to be in twenties.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Twelve hundred. That squares us, Mac.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Scotchman was vaguely uneasy without a
+definite reason for his anxiety. Only last night
+Cullison had told him not a single bank in town
+would advance him a dollar. Now he had money
+in plenty. Where had he got it?</p>
+<p>&#8220;No hurry at all, Luck. Pay when you&#8217;re good
+and ready.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because I&#8217;ll only put it in the Cattlemen&#8217;s National.
+It&#8217;s yours if you need it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll let you know if I do,&#8221; his friend nodded.</p>
+<p>Mackenzie&#8217;s eye fell on a copy of the <i>Sentinel</i>
+protruding from the other&#8217;s pocket. &#8220;Read about
+the hold-up of the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. Express? That fellow
+had his nerve with him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sho! This hold-up game&#8217;s the easiest yet. He
+got the drop on them, and there was nothing to it.
+The key was still in the lock of the door. Well,
+when he gets through he steps out, turns the key,
+and rides away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How did he know there was money coming in
+last night?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s always a leak about things of that sort.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span>
+Somebody talks. I knew it myself for that matter.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You knew! Who told you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a secret, Mac. Come to think of it, I
+wish you wouldn&#8217;t tell anybody that I knew. I
+don&#8217;t want to get the man who told me in trouble.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure I won&#8217;t.&#8221; He passed to another phase of
+the subject. &#8220;The <i>Sentinel</i> says Bolt expects to
+catch the robber. Think he will?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not if the fellow knows his business. Bolt has
+nothing to go on. He has the whole Southwest to
+pick from. For all he knows, it was you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Or more likely me.&#8221; The gray eyes of the
+former sheriff held a frosty smile.</p>
+<p>In spite of that smile, or perhaps because of it,
+Mackenzie felt again that flash of doubt. &#8220;What&#8217;s
+the use of talking foolishness, Luck? Course you
+didn&#8217;t do it. Anybody would know that. Man, I
+whiles wonder at you,&#8221; he protested, relapsing into
+his native tongue as he sometimes did when excited.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t say I did it. I said I might have done
+it&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well! You didn&#8217;t. I know you too well.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But the trouble was Mackenzie did not know him
+well enough. Cullison was hard up, close to the
+wall. How far would he go to save himself?
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span>
+Thirty years before when they had been wild young
+lads these two had hunted their fun together. Luck
+had always been the leader, had always been ready
+for any daredeviltry that came to his mind. He
+had been the kind to go the limit in whatever he
+undertook, to play it to a finish in spite of opposition.
+And what a man is he must be to the end.
+In his slow, troubled fashion, Mac wondered if his
+old side partner&#8217;s streak of lawlessness would take
+him as far as a hold-up. Of course it would not,
+he assured himself; but he could not get the ridiculous
+notion out of his head. It drew his thoughts,
+and at last his steps toward the express office where
+the hold-up had taken place.</p>
+<p>He opened a futile conversation with Hawley,
+while Len Rogers, the guard who had not
+made good, looked at him with a persistent, hostile
+eye.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hard luck,&#8221; the cattleman condoled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what you think, is it? You and your
+friends, too, I reckon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mackenzie looked at the guard, who was plainly
+sore in every humiliated crevice of his brain. &#8220;I
+ain&#8217;t speaking for my friends, Len, but for myself,&#8221;
+he said amiably.</p>
+<p>Rogers laughed harshly. &#8220;Didn&#8217;t know but
+what you might be speaking for one of your
+friends.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;They can all speak for themselves when they
+have got anything to say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Hawley sent a swift, warning look toward his
+subordinate. The latter came to time sulkily. &#8220;I
+didn&#8217;t say they couldn&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mackenzie drifted from this unfriendly atmosphere
+to the courthouse. He found Sheriff Bolt in
+his office. It was that official&#8217;s busy day, but he
+found time not only to see the owner of the Fiddleback,
+but to press upon him cordially an invitation
+to sit down and smoke. The Scotchman wanted
+to discuss the robbery, but was shy about attacking
+the subject. While he boggled at it, Bolt was
+off on another tack.</p>
+<p>Inside of a quarter of an hour the sheriff had
+found out all he wanted to know about the poker
+game, Cullison&#8217;s financial difficulties, and the news
+that Luck had liquidated his poker debt since breakfast
+time. He had turned the simple cattleman&#8217;s
+thoughts inside out, was aware of the doubt Billie
+had scarcely admitted to himself, and knew all he
+did except the one point Luck had asked him not
+to mention. Moreover, he had talked so casually
+that his visitor had no suspicion of what he was
+driving at.</p>
+<p>Mackenzie attempted a little sleuthing of his
+own. &#8220;This hold-up fellow kind of slipped one
+over on you last night, Bolt.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe so, and maybe not.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Got a clew, have you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes&mdash;yes.&#8221; The sheriff looked straight at
+him. &#8220;I&#8217;ve a notion his initials are L.&nbsp;C.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Billie felt himself flushing. &#8220;What makes you
+think that, Nick?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bolt walked to a cupboard and unlocked it. His
+back was toward the cattleman, but the latter could
+see him take something from a shelf. Turning
+quickly, the sheriff tossed a hat upon the table.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ever see this before?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mac picked it up. His fingers were not quite
+steady, for a great dread drenched his heart like a
+rush of icy water. Upon that gray felt hat with
+the pinched crown was stamped the individuality&mdash;and
+the initials&mdash;of Luck Cullison.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t know as I recognize it,&#8221; he lied, not very
+readily. &#8220;Not to know it. Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thought perhaps you might know it. The
+hold-up dropped it while getting away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mackenzie&#8217;s eyes flinched. &#8220;Dropped it. How
+was that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A man happened to come along San Miguel
+street just as the robber swung to his horse. He
+heard the cries of the men inside, guessed what
+was doing, and exchanged shots with the miscreant.
+He shot this hat off the fellow&#8217;s head.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The <i>Sentinel</i> didn&#8217;t tell any such a story.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t give that detail to the editor.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who was the man that shot the robber?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cass Fendrick.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But he didn&#8217;t claim to recognize the hold-up?&#8221;
+Mackenzie forced himself to ask this in spite of his
+fears.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not for certain.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then he&mdash;he had a guess.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Mac. He guessed a man whose initials
+are the same as those in that hat.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who do you mean, Nick?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t need to tell you that. You know who.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you mean Luck Cullison, it&#8217;s a damned lie,&#8221;
+exploded the cattleman. He was furious with himself,
+for he felt now that he had been unsuspectingly
+helping to certify the suspicions of the sheriff.
+Like an idiot, he had let out much that told
+heavily against his friend.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cass Fendrick is not on good terms with him.
+We all know that. Luck has got him in a hole. I
+wouldn&#8217;t put it a bit above Cass to lie if he thought
+it would hurt Luck. Tell you it&#8217;s a damned conspiracy.
+Man, can&#8217;t you see that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What about this hat, with the two holes shot
+through the rim?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sho! We all wear hats just like that. Look at
+mine.&#8221; Billie held it out eagerly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Has yours an L.&nbsp;C. stamped in the sweat
+band?&#8221; Bolt asked with a smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know you ain&#8217;t his friend, Nick. But you
+want to be fair to him even if he did oppose your
+election.&#8221; Mackenzie laid an appealing hand on
+the knee of the man seated opposite him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sheriff of Papago County. It doesn&#8217;t make
+any difference who worked for or against me, Billie.
+I was elected, and I&#8217;m going to enforce the
+law.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you think Luck would do a fool thing like
+this?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t say I thought so, but it&#8217;s my business
+not to overlook any bets.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you do believe it. Now, don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Since you&#8217;ve got to have an answer&mdash;yes, I do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;By heaven, I&#8217;d as lief think I did it myself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a good friend,&#8221; Bolt conceded. &#8220;By
+the way, I&#8217;ve got to pay for some supplies this
+morning. Can you cash a check for a hundred?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I reckon so.&#8221; Mackenzie drew from his pocket
+the roll Cullison had given him two hours before.
+He peeled five twenties from it. The sheriff observed
+that the prevailing denomination was the
+same.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get these from Luck?&#8221; he asked carelessly.</p>
+<p>The cattleman stared at him, and the suspicion
+grew on him that he had been trapped again.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Why do you ask?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because it happens the bills stolen from the
+W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. were all twenties.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I didn&#8217;t get them from Cullison. This is
+money I had,&#8221; he answered sullenly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then I dare say you can let me see the money
+you got from him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He paid me by check.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Banked it yet?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s my business, Nick.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And mine, Billie. I can find out from the bank
+if you have. Besides, I happen to know that Luck&#8217;s
+bank account is overdrawn.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Some one has been at you to prejudice you,
+Bolt.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nobody but Luck Cullison himself&mdash;and his
+actions.&#8221;</p>
+<p>From the office of the sheriff, Mackenzie wandered
+to the club in search of Luck. He was thoroughly
+dispirited, both dreaded to meet Luck, and
+yet was anxious to do so. For he wanted to warn
+him, wanted to see him fall into one of his chill
+rages when he told him there were suspicions
+against him.</p>
+<p>Cullison had left the club, but Alec Flandrau
+was still there. Billie drew him into a corner, and
+learned that Luck had just settled with him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anyone see him give it to you, Alec?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;No. He took me upstairs to the library and
+paid me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In bills?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;in twenties.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For God&#8217;s sake, don&#8217;t tell anybody that.&#8221; In a
+dozen jerky sentences the owner of the Fiddleback
+told Flandrau of the suspicions of the sheriff.</p>
+<p>Together they went in search of Luck. But
+though they looked for him all day, he was not to
+be found. They might have concluded he had ridden
+out to the ranch, but his horse was still at the
+stable where he had left it.</p>
+<p>The last that had been seen of him Luck was
+walking along the plaza toward the hotel, not a
+hundred and fifty yards from the latter. A dozen
+men had spoken to him in the distance of a block.
+But he had not been seen to reach his hotel. He
+had not called for his room key. Somehow he had
+vanished, and none could tell how or where.</p>
+<p>To Bolt his disappearance was as good as a confession
+of guilt. He searched Luck&#8217;s room at the
+hotel. Among other things, he found an old envelope
+with interesting data penciled on it.</p>
+<p>Before nightfall the word was whispered all over
+Saguache that Luck Cullison, pioneer cattleman and
+former sheriff, was suspected of the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. Express
+robbery and had fled to save himself from
+arrest. At first men marveled that one so well
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span>
+known and so popular, one who had been so prominent
+in affairs, could be suspected of such a crime,
+but as they listened to the evidence and saw it fall
+like blocks of a building into place, the conviction
+grew that he was the masked bandit wanted by the
+sheriff.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='IV_KATE_USES_HER_QUIRT' id='IV_KATE_USES_HER_QUIRT'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<h3>KATE USES HER QUIRT</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Red-headed Bob Cullison finished making the
+diamond hitch and proudly called his cousin Kate
+to inspect the packhorse.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You never saw the hitch thrown better, sis,&#8221; he
+bragged, boy-like. &#8220;Uncle Luck says I do it well
+as he can.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s fine, Bob,&#8221; his cousin agreed, with the
+proper enthusiasm in her dark eyes. &#8220;You&#8217;ll have
+to teach me how to do it one of these days.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She was in a khaki riding skirt, and she pulled
+herself to the saddle of her own horse. From this
+position she gave him final instructions before leaving.
+&#8220;Stay around the house, Bob. Dad will call
+the ranch up this morning probably, and I want
+you to be where you can hear the &#8217;phone ring.
+Tell him about that white-faced heifer, and to be
+sure to match the goods I gave him. You&#8217;ll find
+dinner set out for you on the dining-room table.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It had been on Wednesday morning that Luck
+Cullison disappeared from the face of the earth.
+Before twenty-four hours the gossip was being
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span>
+whispered in the most distant cañons of Papago
+County. The riders of the Circle C knew it, but
+none of them had yet told either Bob or Kate.</p>
+<p>Now it was Friday morning and Kate was beginning
+to wonder why her father did not call her
+up. Could it be that Soapy Stone was pulling off
+his train robbery at Tin Cup and her father so busy
+that he could not take time to ride to a telephone
+station? She did not like to leave the ranch just
+now, even for a few hours, but other business called
+her away. Sweeney was holding down the fort at
+the Del Oro against Fendrick&#8217;s sheepherders, and
+his weekly supply of provisions had to be taken to
+him. Since she wanted to see with her own eyes
+how things were getting along at the cañon, she
+was taking the supplies in person.</p>
+<p>It was a beautiful morning, even for Arizona.
+The soft air was at its winiest best. The spring
+rains had carpeted the hills with an unusually fine
+grass, and the summer suns had not yet burnt this
+to the crisp brown of August. Her young heart
+expanded with the very joy of life. Oh, how good
+it was to be alive in a world of warm sunshine, of
+blue, unflecked sky, and of cool, light breezes.
+Swifts basked on the rocks or darted like arrows
+for safety, and lay palpitating with suspense. The
+clear call of the quails sounded to right and left of
+her. To her eager consciousness it was as if some
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span>
+bath of splendor had poured down overnight upon
+the old earth.</p>
+<p>She rode from sunlight into shadow and from
+shadow to sunlight again, winding along the hill
+trail that took her toward the Del Oro. After
+hours of travel she came to the saddle from which
+one looked down to the gap in the cañon walls that
+had been the common watering place of all men&#8217;s
+cattle, but now was homesteaded by her father. Far
+below her it lay, a dwarfed picture with detail
+blurred to a vague impressionistic map. She could
+see the hut, the fence line running parallel to the
+stream on the other side, some grazing cattle,
+Sweeney&#8217;s horse in the corral.</p>
+<p>The piteous bleating of a lamb floated to her.
+Kate dismounted and made her way toward the
+sound. A pathetic little huddle of frightened life
+tried to struggle free at her approach. The slim
+leg of the lamb had become wedged at the intersection
+of several rocks in such a way that it could
+not be withdrawn.</p>
+<p>Kate pulled the boulder away, and released the
+prisoner. It looked at her and bleated without attempting
+to move. She took the soft, woolly creature
+in her arms, and examined the wounded limb,
+all torn and raw from its efforts to escape. A
+wound, she recalled, ought to be washed with cold
+water and bound. Returning to her horse, she put
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span>
+the little animal in front of the saddle and continued
+on the trail that led down to the river.</p>
+<p>Sweeney came out from the cabin and hailed her.
+He was a squat, weather-beaten man, who had ridden
+for her father ever since she could remember.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What in Mexico you got there?&#8221; he asked in
+surprise.</p>
+<p>She explained the circumstances under which she
+had found the lamb.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what you aiming to do with it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to tie up its leg and take it across
+the river. Some of the C.&nbsp;F. herders are sure to
+find it before night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sho! What are you fooling with Cass Fendrick&#8217;s
+sheep for?&#8221; he grumbled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t a sheep, but a lamb. And I&#8217;m not going
+to see it suffer, no matter who owns it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She was already walking toward the river. Protestingly
+he followed, and lent a hand at tying up
+the leg with the girl&#8217;s handkerchief.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll just ride across and leave it outside the
+fence,&#8221; she said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lemme go. I know the river better.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Sweeney did not wait for her assent, but swung
+to the saddle. She handed him the lamb, and he
+forded the stream. At no place did the water come
+above the fetlocks of the horse.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so glad you know the dangerous places. Be
+careful you don&#8217;t drown,&#8221; she mocked.</p>
+<p>The rider&#8217;s laughter rang back to her. One of
+her jokes went a long way with Sweeney. The
+danger of the river had been the flimsiest of excuses.
+What he had been afraid of was that one
+of Fendrick&#8217;s herders might be lurking in some
+arroyo beyond the fence. There was little chance
+that he would dare hurt her, but he might shout
+something unpleasant.</p>
+<p>In point of fact, Sweeney saw some one disappear
+into a wash as he reached the fence. The rider
+held up the lamb, jabbered a sentence of broncho
+Spanish at the spot where the man had been, put
+down his bleating burden, and cantered back to his
+own side of the river without unnecessary delay.
+No bullets had yet been fired in the Cullison-Fendrick
+feud, but a &#8220;greaser&#8221; was liable to do anything,
+according to the old puncher&#8217;s notion. Anyhow,
+he did not want to be a temptation to anyone
+with a gun in his hand.</p>
+<p>An hour later, Kate, on the return trip, topped
+the rise where she had found the lamb. Pulling up
+her pony, to rest the horse from its climb, she
+gazed back across the river to the rolling ridges
+among which lay the C.&nbsp;F. ranch. Oddly enough,
+she had never seen Cass Fendrick. He had come
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span>
+to Papago County a few years before, and had
+bought the place from an earlier settler. In the
+disagreement that had fallen between the two men,
+she was wholly on the side of her father. Sometimes
+she had wondered what manner of man this
+Cass Fendrick might be; disagreeable, of course, but
+after precisely what fashion.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your property, I believe, Miss Cullison.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She turned at sound of the suave, amused drawl,
+and looked upon a dark, slim young man of picturesque
+appearance. He was bowing to her with
+an obvious intention of overdoing it. Voice and
+manner had the habit of the South rather than of
+the West. A kind of indolent irony sat easily upon
+the swarthy face crowned with a black sleek head
+of hair.</p>
+<p>Her instinct told the girl who he was. She did
+not need to ask herself any longer what Cass Fendrick
+looked like.</p>
+<p>He was holding out to her the bloodstained kerchief
+that had been tied to the lamb&#8217;s leg.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t care to have it returned,&#8221; she told him
+with cold civility.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, if you&#8217;d only left a note to say so, it
+would have saved me a quite considerable climb,&#8221;
+he suggested.</p>
+<p>In spite of herself a flicker of amusement lit her
+eyes. She had a sense of humor, &#8220;I did not think
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span>
+of that, and since you have troubled to return it to
+me, I can only say thank you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She held out her hand for the kerchief, but
+he did not move. &#8220;I don&#8217;t know but what I&#8217;ll
+keep it, after all, for a souvenir. Just to
+remind me that Luck Cullison&#8217;s daughter went
+out of her way to help one of Cass Fendrick&#8217;s
+sheep.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She ignored his sardonic mockery. &#8220;I don&#8217;t let
+live creatures suffer when I can help it. Are you
+going to give me my handkerchief?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Haven&#8217;t made up my mind yet. Perhaps I&#8217;ll
+have it washed and bring it home to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She decided that he was trying to flirt with her,
+and turned the head of her horse to start.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now your father has pulled his freight, I expect
+it will be safe to call,&#8221; he added.</p>
+<p>The bridle rein tightened. &#8220;What nonsense are
+you saying about my father?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No news, Miss Cullison; just what everybody is
+saying, that he has gone to cover on account of the
+hold-up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A chill fear drenched her heart. &#8220;Do you mean
+the hold-up of the Limited at Tin Cup?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I don&#8217;t.&#8221; He looked at her sharply. &#8220;Mean
+to say you haven&#8217;t heard of the hold-up of the W.&amp; S.
+Express Company at Saguache?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. When was it?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Tuesday night. The man got away with
+twenty thousand dollars.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what has my father to do with that?&#8221; she
+demanded haughtily.</p>
+<p>A satisfied spleen purred in his voice. &#8220;My dear
+young lady, that is what everyone is asking.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean? Say it.&#8221; There was fear
+as well as anger in her voice. Had her father
+somehow got into trouble trying to save Sam?</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m saying nothing. But what Sheriff Bolt
+means is that when he gets his handcuffs on Luck
+Cullison, he&#8217;ll have the man that can tell him where
+that twenty thousand is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a lie.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He waved his hand airily, as one who declined
+responsibility in the matter, but his dark, saturnine
+face sparkled with malice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe so. Seems to be some evidence, but I
+reckon he can explain that away&mdash;when he comes
+back. The hold-up dropped a hat with the initials
+L.&nbsp;C. in the band, since identified as his. He had
+lost a lot of money at poker. Next day he paid it.
+He had no money in the bank, but maybe he found
+it growing on a cactus bush.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You liar!&#8221; she panted, eyes blazing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll take that from you, my dear, because you
+look so blamed pretty when you&#8217;re mad; but I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span>
+wouldn&#8217;t take it from him&mdash;from your father, who
+is hiding out in the hills somewhere.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Anger uncurbed welled from her in an inarticulate
+cry. He had come close to her, and was standing
+beside the stirrup, one bold hand upon the rein.
+Her quirt went swiftly up and down, cut like a
+thin bar of red-hot iron across his uplifted face.
+He stumbled back, half blind with the pain. Before
+he could realize what had happened the spur
+on her little boot touched the side of the pony, and
+it was off with a bound. She was galloping wildly
+down the trail toward home.</p>
+<p>He looked after her, fingers caressing the welt
+that burned his cheek.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll pay for that, Kate Cullison,&#8221; he said
+aloud to himself.</p>
+<p>Anger stung him, but deeper than his rage was a
+growing admiration. How she had lashed out at
+him because he had taunted her of her father. By
+Jove, a girl like that would be worth taming! His
+cold eyes glittered as he put the bloodstained kerchief
+in his pocket. She was not through with him
+yet&mdash;not by a good deal.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='V__AIN_T_SHE_THE_GAMEST_LITTLE_THOROUGHBRED' id='V__AIN_T_SHE_THE_GAMEST_LITTLE_THOROUGHBRED'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+<h3>&#8220;AIN&#8217;T SHE THE GAMEST LITTLE THOROUGHBRED?&#8221;</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Kate galloped into the ranch plaza around which
+the buildings were set, slipped from her pony, and
+ran at once to the telephone. Bob was on a side
+porch mending a bridle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you heard anything from dad?&#8221; she cried
+through the open door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nope,&#8221; he answered, hammering down a rivet.</p>
+<p>Kate called up the hotel where Maloney was
+staying at Saguache, but could not get him. She
+tried the Del Mar, where her father and his friends
+always put up when in town. She asked in turn
+for Mackenzie, for Yesler, for Alec Flandrau.</p>
+<p>While she waited for an answer, the girl moved
+nervously about the room. She could not sit down
+or settle herself at anything. For some instinct
+told her that Fendrick&#8217;s taunt was not a lie cut out
+of whole cloth.</p>
+<p>The bell rang. Instantly she was at the telephone.
+Mackenzie was at the other end of the line.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Uncle Mac.&#8221; She had called him uncle
+ever since she could remember. &#8220;What is it they
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span>
+are saying about dad? Tell me it isn&#8217;t true,&#8221; she
+begged.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A pack of lees, lassie.&#8221; His Scotch idiom and
+accent had succumbed to thirty years on the plains,
+but when he became excited it rose triumphant
+through the acquired speech of the Southwest.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then is he there&mdash;in Saguache, I mean.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No-o. He&#8217;s not in town.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hoots! He&#8217;ll just have gone somewhere on
+business.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He did not bluff well. Through the hearty assurance
+she pierced to the note of trouble in his
+voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re hiding something from me, Uncle Mac.
+I won&#8217;t have it. You tell me the truth&mdash;the whole
+truth.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In three sentences he sketched it for her, and
+when he had finished he knew by the sound of her
+voice that she was greatly frightened.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Something has happened to him. I&#8217;m coming
+to town.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you feel you&#8217;d rather. Take the stage in to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. I&#8217;m coming to-night. I&#8217;ll bring Bob.
+Save us two rooms at the hotel.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better wait till to-morrow. Forty miles is a
+long ride, lass.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I can&#8217;t wait. Have Curly Flandrau come
+to the Del Mar if he&#8217;s in town&mdash;and Dick Maloney,
+too. That&#8217;s all. Good-by.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She turned to her cousin, who was standing big-eyed
+at her elbow.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it, Kate? Has anything happened to
+Uncle Luck?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She swallowed a lump in her throat. &#8220;Dad&#8217;s
+gone, Bob. Nobody knows where. They say&mdash;the
+liars&mdash;that he robbed the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. Express Company.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Suddenly her face went down into her forearm
+on the table and sobs began to rack her body. The
+boy, staggered at this preposterous charge, could
+only lay his hand on her shoulder and beg her not
+to cry.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;ll be all right, Kate. Wait till Uncle Luck
+comes back. He&#8217;ll make &#8217;em sick for talking about
+him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But suppose he&mdash;suppose he&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; She dared
+not complete what was in her mind, that perhaps
+he had been ambushed by some of his enemies and
+killed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet they&#8217;ll drop into a hole and pull it in
+after them when Uncle Luck shows up,&#8221; the boy
+bragged with supreme confidence.</p>
+<p>His cousin nodded, choking down her sobs. &#8220;Of
+course. It&mdash;it&#8217;ll come out all right&mdash;as soon as he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span>
+finds out what they&#8217;re saying. Saddle two horses
+right away, Bob.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure. We&#8217;ll soon find where he is, I bet you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The setting sun found their journey less than
+half done. The brilliant rainbow afterglow of sunset
+faded to colder tints, and then disappeared. The
+purple saw-toothed range softened to a violet hue.
+With the coming of the moon the hard, dry desert
+lost detail, took on a loveliness of tone and outline
+that made it an idealized painting of itself.
+Myriads of stars were out, so that the heavens
+seemed sown with them as an Arizona hillside is
+in spring with yellow poppies.</p>
+<p>Kate was tortured with anxiety, but the surpassing
+beauty that encompassed them was somehow a
+comfort to her. Deep within her something denied
+that her father could be gone out of a world so
+good. And if he were alive, Curly Flandrau would
+find him&mdash;Curly and Dick between them. Luck
+Cullison had plenty of good friends who would not
+stand by and see him wronged.</p>
+<p>Any theory of his disappearance that accepted his
+guilt did not occur to her mind for an instant. The
+two had been very close to each other. Luck had
+been in the habit of saying smilingly that she was
+his majordomo, his right bower. Some share of
+his lawless temperament she inherited, enough to
+feel sure that this particular kind of wrongdoing
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span>
+was impossible for him. He was reckless, sometimes
+passionate, but she did not need to reassure
+herself that he was scrupulously honest.</p>
+<p>This brought her back to the only other tenable
+hypothesis&mdash;foul play. And from this she shrank
+with a quaking heart. For surely if his enemies
+wished to harm him they would destroy him, and
+this was a conclusion against which she fought desperately.</p>
+<p>The plaza clock boomed ten strokes as they rode
+into Saguache. Mackenzie was waiting for them
+on the steps of the hotel.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have they&mdash;has anything been&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The owner of the Fiddleback shook his grizzled
+head. &#8220;Not yet. Didn&#8217;t you meet Curly?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He rode out to come in with you, but if he
+didn&#8217;t meet you by ten he was to come back. You
+took the north road, I reckon?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>His warm heart was wrung for the young
+woman whose fine eyes stared with dumb agony
+from a face that looked very white in the shining
+moonlight. He put an arm around her shoulders,
+and drew her into the hotel with cheerful talk.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come along, Bob. We&#8217;re going to tuck away
+a good supper first off. While you&#8217;re eating, I&#8217;ll
+tell you all there is to be told.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></p>
+<p>Kate opened her lips to say that she was not hungry
+and could not possibly eat a bite, but she
+thought better of it. Bob had tasted nothing since
+noon, and of course he must be fed.</p>
+<p>The lad fell to with an appetite grief had not
+dulled. His cousin could at first only pick at what
+was set before her. It seemed heartless to be sitting
+down in comfort to so good a supper while her
+father was in she knew not how great distress.
+Grief swelled in her throat, and forced back the
+food she was trying to eat.</p>
+<p>Mackenzie broke off his story to remonstrate.
+&#8220;This won&#8217;t do at all, Kate. If you&#8217;re going to
+help find Luck, you&#8217;ve got to keep yourself fit.
+Now, you try this chicken, honey.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;just can&#8217;t, Uncle Mac.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you need it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; the girl confessed, and as she said it
+broke down again into soft weeping.</p>
+<p>Mac let her have her cry out, petting her awkwardly.
+Presently she dried her eyes, set at her
+supper in a businesslike way, heard the story to an
+end quietly, and volunteered one heartbroken comment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;As if father <i>could</i> do such a thing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The cattleman agreed eagerly. There were times
+when he was full of doubt on that point, but he was
+not going to let her know it.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span></p>
+<p>Curly came into the room, and the girl rose to
+meet him. He took her little hand in his tanned,
+muscular one, and somehow from his grip she
+gathered strength. He would do all that could be
+done to find her father, just as he had done so
+much to save her brother.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so glad you&#8217;ve come,&#8221; she said simply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad you&#8217;re glad,&#8221; he smiled cheerfully.</p>
+<p>He knew she had been crying, that she was suffering
+cruelly, but he offered her courage rather
+than maudlin sympathy. Hope seemed to flow
+through her veins at the meeting of the eyes.
+Whatever a man could do for her would be done by
+Curly.</p>
+<p>They talked the situation over together.</p>
+<p>&#8220;As it looks to me, we&#8217;ve got to find out two
+things&mdash;first, what has become of your father, and,
+second, who did steal that money.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now you&#8217;re talking,&#8221; Mackenzie agreed. &#8220;I
+always did say you had a good head, Curly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see it yet, but there&#8217;s some link between
+the two things. I mean between the robbery and
+his disappearance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you mean?&#8221; Kate asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll say the robbers were his enemies&mdash;some
+of the Soapy Stone outfit maybe. They have got
+him out of the way to satisfy their grudge and to
+make people think he did it. Unfortunately there
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span>
+is evidence that makes it look as if he might have
+done it&mdash;what they call corroborating testimony.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Billie Mackenzie scratched his gray poll. &#8220;Hold
+on, Curly. This notion of a link between the
+hold-up and Luck&#8217;s leaving is what the other side
+is tying to. Don&#8217;t we want to think different from
+them?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We do. They think he is guilty. We know he
+isn&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What does Sheriff Bolt think?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly waved the sheriff aside. &#8220;It don&#8217;t matter
+what he thinks, Miss Kate. He <i>says</i> he thinks
+Luck was mixed up in the hold-up. Maybe that&#8217;s
+what he thinks, but we don&#8217;t want to forget that
+Cass Fendrick made him sheriff and your father
+fought him to a fare-you-well.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then we can&#8217;t expect any help from him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not much. He ain&#8217;t a bad fellow, Bolt ain&#8217;t.
+He&#8217;ll be square, but his notions are liable to be
+warped.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d like to talk with him,&#8221; the young woman
+announced.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; Mackenzie assented. &#8220;To-morrow
+mo&#8217;ning&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, to-night, Uncle Mac.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The cattleman looked at her in surprise. Her
+voice rang with decision. Her slight figure seemed
+compact of energy and resolution. Was this the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span>
+girl who had been in helpless tears not ten minutes
+before?</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll see if he&#8217;s at his office. Maybe he&#8217;ll come
+up,&#8221; Curly said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. I&#8217;ll go down to the courthouse if he&#8217;s
+there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flandrau got Bolt on the telephone at his room.
+After a little grumbling he consented to meet Miss
+Cullison at his office.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bob, you must go to bed. You&#8217;re tired out,&#8221;
+his cousin told him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t, either,&#8221; he denied indignantly. &#8220;Tired
+nothing. I&#8217;m going with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly caught Kate&#8217;s glance, and she left the boy
+to him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here, Bob. We&#8217;re at the beginning of a
+big job. Some of us have to keep fresh all the
+time. We&#8217;ll work in relays. To-night you sleep so
+as to be ready to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>This way of putting it satisfied the boy. He reluctantly
+consented to go to bed, and was sound
+asleep almost as soon as his head struck the pillow.</p>
+<p>At the office of the sheriff, Kate cut to essentials
+as soon as introductions were over.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think my father robbed the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S.
+Express Company, Mr. Bolt?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+<p>Her plainness embarrassed the officer.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s took at the facts, Miss Cullison,&#8221; he began
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span>
+amiably. &#8220;Then you tell me what you would think
+in my place. Your father needed money mighty
+bad. There&#8217;s no doubt at all about that. Here&#8217;s an
+envelope on which he had written a list of his debts.
+You&#8217;ll notice they run to just a little more than
+twenty thousand. I found this in his bedroom the
+day he disappeared.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She took the paper, glanced at it mechanically,
+and looked at the sheriff again. &#8220;Well? Everybody
+wants money. Do they all steal it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Turn that envelope over, Miss Cullison. Notice
+how he has written there half a dozen times in a
+row, &#8216;$20,000,&#8217; and just below it twice, &#8216;W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S.
+Ex. Co.&#8217; Finally, the one word, &#8216;To-night.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>She read it all, read it with a heart heavy as lead,
+and knew that there he had left in his own strong,
+bold handwriting convincing evidence against himself.
+Still, she did not doubt him in the least, but
+there could be no question now that he knew of
+the intended shipment, that absent-mindedly he had
+jotted down this data while he was thinking about
+it in connection with his own debts.</p>
+<p>The sheriff went on tightening the chain of evidence
+in a voice that for all its kindness seemed to
+her remorseless as fate. &#8220;It turns out that Mr. Jordan
+of the Cattleman&#8217;s National Bank mentioned
+this shipment to your father that morning. Mr.
+Cullison was trying to raise money from him, but
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span>
+he couldn&#8217;t let him have it. Every bank in the city
+refused him a loan. Yet next morning he paid off
+two thousand dollars he owed from a poker game.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He must have borrowed the money from some
+one,&#8221; she said weakly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That money he paid in twenty-dollar bills. The
+stolen express package was in twenties. You know
+yourself that this is a gold country. Bills ain&#8217;t so
+plentiful.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl&#8217;s hand went to her heart. Faith in her
+father was a rock not to be washed away by any
+amount of evidence. What made her wince was
+the amount of circumstantial testimony falling into
+place so inexorably against him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is that all?&#8221; she asked despairingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish it were, Miss Cullison. But it&#8217;s not. A
+man came round the corner and shot at the robber
+as he was escaping. His hat fell off. Here it is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>As Kate took the hat something seemed to
+tighten around her heart. It belonged to her father.
+His personality was stamped all over it. She
+even recognized a coffee stain on the under side of
+the brim. There was no need of the initials L.&nbsp;C.
+to tell her whose it had been. A wave of despair
+swept over her. Again she was on the verge of
+breaking down, but controlled herself as with a
+tight curb.</p>
+<p>Bolt&#8217;s voice went on. &#8220;Next day your father disappeared,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span>
+Miss Cullison. He was here in town all
+morning. His friends knew that suspicion was
+fastening on him. The inference is that he daren&#8217;t
+wait to have the truth come out. Mind, I don&#8217;t
+say he&#8217;s guilty. But it looks that way. Now, that&#8217;s
+my case. If you were sheriff in my place, what
+would you do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her answer flashed back instantly. &#8220;If I knew
+Luck Cullison, I would be sure there was a mistake
+somewhere, and I would look for foul play. I
+would believe anything except that he was guilty&mdash;anything
+in the world. You know he has enemies.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The sheriff liked her spirited defense no less because
+he could not agree with her. &#8220;Yes, I know
+that. The trouble is that these incriminating facts
+don&#8217;t come in the main from his enemies.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You say the robber had on his hat, and that
+somebody shot at him. Whoever it was must know
+the man wasn&#8217;t father.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Gently Bolt took this last prop from her hope.
+&#8220;He is almost sure the man was your father.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A spark of steel came into her dark eyes. &#8220;Who
+is the man?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;His name is Fendrick.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cass Fendrick?&#8221; She whipped the word at
+him, leaning forward in her chair rigidly with her
+hands clenched on the arms of it. One could have
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span>
+guessed that the sound of the name had unleashed
+a dormant ferocity in her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I know he and your father aren&#8217;t friends.
+They have had some trouble. For that reason
+he was very reluctant to give your father&#8217;s
+name.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl flamed. &#8220;Reluctant! Don&#8217;t you believe
+it? He hates Father like poison.&#8221; A flash of inspiration
+came to her. She rose, slim and tall and
+purposeful. &#8220;Cass Fendrick is the man you want,
+and he is the man I want. He robbed the express
+company, and he has killed my father or abducted
+him. I know now. Arrest him to-night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have to have evidence,&#8221; Bolt said quietly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can give you a motive. Listen. Father expected
+to prove up yesterday on his Del Oro claim.
+If he had done so Cass Fendrick&#8217;s sheep would
+have been cut off from the water. Father had to
+be got out of the way not later than Wednesday,
+or that man would have been put out of business.
+He was very bitter about it. He had made threats.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It would take more than threats to get rid of
+the best fighting man in Arizona, right in the middle
+of the day, in the heart of the town, without a
+soul knowing about it.&#8221; The officer added with a
+smile: &#8220;I&#8217;d hate to undertake the contract, give
+me all the help I wanted.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He was trapped somehow, of course,&#8221; Curly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span>
+cut in. For he was sure that in no other way could
+Luck Cullison have been overcome.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;ll only tell me how, Flandrau,&#8221; Bolt returned.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know how, but we&#8217;ll find out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate felt his doubt, and it was like a spark to
+powder.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fendrick is your friend. You were elected by
+his influence. Perhaps you want to prove that Father
+did this.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The people elected me, Miss Cullison,&#8221; answered
+Bolt, with grave reproach. &#8220;I haven&#8217;t any
+friends or any enemies when it comes to doing what
+I&#8217;ve sworn to do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you ought to know Father couldn&#8217;t have
+done this. There is such a thing as character. Luck
+Cullison simply <i>couldn&#8217;t</i> be a thief.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mackenzie&#8217;s faith had been strengthened by the
+insistent loyalty of the girl. &#8220;That&#8217;s right, Nick.
+Let me tell you something else. Fendrick knew
+Luck was going to prove up on Thursday. He
+heard him tell us at the Round-Up Club Tuesday
+morning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The sheriff summed up. &#8220;You&#8217;ve proved Cass
+had interests that would be helped if Mr. Cullison
+were removed. But you haven&#8217;t shaken the evidence
+against Luck.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve proved Cass Fendrick had to get Father
+out of the way on the very day he disappeared. One
+day later would have been too late. We&#8217;ve shown
+his enmity. Any evidence that rests on his word is
+no good. The truth isn&#8217;t in the man.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe not, but he didn&#8217;t make this evidence.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate had another inspirational flash. &#8220;He did&mdash;some
+of it. Somehow he got hold of father&#8217;s hat,
+and he manufactured a story about shooting it from
+the robber&#8217;s head. But to make his story stick he
+must admit he was on the ground at the time of
+the hold-up. So he must have known the robbery
+was going to take place. It&#8217;s as plain as old Run-A-Mile&#8217;s
+wart that he knew of it because he planned
+it himself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bolt&#8217;s shrewd eyes narrowed to a smile. &#8220;You
+prove to me that Cass had your father&#8217;s hat <i>before
+the hold-up</i>, and I&#8217;ll take some stock in the story.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And in the meantime,&#8221; suggested Curly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll keep right on looking for Luck Cullison, but
+I&#8217;ll keep an eye on Cass Fendrick, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate took up the challenge confidently. &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+prove he had the hat&mdash;at least I&#8217;ll try to pretty
+hard. It&#8217;s the truth, and it must come out somehow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After he had left her at the hotel, Curly walked
+the streets with a sharp excitement tingling his
+blood. He had lived his life among men, and he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span>
+knew little about women and their ways. But his
+imagination seized avidly upon this slim, dark girl
+with the fine eyes that could be both tender and
+ferocious, with the look of combined delicacy and
+strength in every line of her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t she the gamest little thoroughbred ever?&#8221;
+he chuckled to himself. &#8220;Stands the acid every
+crack. Think of her standing pat so game&mdash;just
+like she did for me that night out at the ranch.
+She&#8217;s the best argument Luck has got.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VI_TWO_HATS_ON_A_RACK' id='VI_TWO_HATS_ON_A_RACK'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<h3>TWO HATS ON A RACK</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>One casual remark of Mackenzie had given Kate
+a clew. Even before she had explained it, Curly
+caught the point and began to dig for the truth.
+For though he was almost a boy, the others leaned
+on him with the expectation that in the absence of
+Maloney he would take the lead. Before they separated
+for the night he made Mackenzie go over
+every detail he could remember of the meeting between
+Cullison and Fendrick at the Round-Up
+Club. This was the last time the two men had been
+seen together in public, and he felt it important
+that he should know just what had taken place.</p>
+<p>In the morning he and Kate had a talk with his
+uncle on the same subject. Not content with this,
+he made the whole party adjourn to the club rooms
+so that he might see exactly where Luck had sat
+and the different places the sheepman had stood
+from the time he entered until the poker players
+left.</p>
+<p>Together Billie Mackenzie and Alec Flandrau
+dramatized the scene for the young people. Mac
+personated the sheepman, came into the room, hung
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span>
+up his hat, lounged over to the poker table, said
+his little piece as well as he could remember it,
+and passed into the next room. Flandrau, Senior,
+taking the role of Cullison, presently got up, lifted
+his hat from the rack, and went to the door.</p>
+<p>With excitement trembling in her voice, the girl
+asked an eager question. &#8220;Were their hats side by
+side like that on adjoining pegs?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Billie turned a puzzled face to his friend. &#8220;How
+about that, Alec?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s how I remember it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Same here, my notion is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Both gray hats?&#8221; Curly cut in.</p>
+<p>His uncle looked helplessly at the other man.
+&#8220;Can&#8217;t be sure of that. Luck&#8217;s was gray all right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cass wore a gray hat too, seems to me,&#8221; Mackenzie
+contributed, scratching his gray hair.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did Father hesitate at all about which one to
+take?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No-o. I don&#8217;t reckon he did. He had turned
+to ask me if I was coming&mdash;wasn&#8217;t looking at the
+hats at all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly looked at Kate and nodded. &#8220;I reckon we
+know how Cass got Mr. Cullison&#8217;s hat. It was left
+on the rack.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you mean?&#8221; his uncle asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you see?&#8221; the girl explained, her eyes
+shining with excitement. &#8220;Father took the wrong
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span>
+hat. You know how absent-minded he is sometimes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mackenzie slapped his knee. &#8220;I&#8217;ll bet a stack of
+blues you&#8217;ve guessed it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a way to make sure,&#8221; Curly said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t get you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fendrick couldn&#8217;t wear Mr. Cullison&#8217;s hat
+around without the risk of someone remembering it
+later. What would he do then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate beamed. &#8220;Buy another at the nearest
+store.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That would be my guess. And the nearest store
+is the New York Emporium. We&#8217;ve got to find out
+whether he did buy one there on Tuesday some time
+after nine o&#8217;clock in the morning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl&#8217;s eyes were sparkling. She bustled with
+businesslike energy. &#8220;I&#8217;ll go and ask right away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you think we&#8217;d better let Uncle Alec find
+out? He&#8217;s not so likely to stir up curiosity,&#8221; Curly
+suggested.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s right. Let me earn my board and keep,&#8221;
+the owner of the Map of Texas volunteered.</p>
+<p>Within a quarter of an hour Alec Flandrau joined
+the others at the hotel. He was beaming like a
+schoolboy who has been given an unexpected holiday.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You kids are right at the head of the class in
+the detective game. Cass bought a brown hat,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span>
+about 9:30 in the mo&#8217;ning. Paid five dollars for
+it. Wouldn&#8217;t let them deliver the old one but took
+it with him in a paper sack.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With her lieutenants flanking her Kate went
+straight to the office of the sheriff. Bolt heard the
+story out and considered it thoughtfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You win, Miss Cullison. You haven&#8217;t proved
+Fendrick caused your father&#8217;s disappearance by foul
+play, and you haven&#8217;t proved he committed the
+robbery. Point of fact I don&#8217;t think he did either
+one. But it certainly looks like he may possibly
+have manufactured evidence.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly snorted scornfully. &#8220;You&#8217;re letting your
+friend down easy, Mr. Bolt. By his own story he
+was on the ground a minute after the robbery took
+place. How do we know he wasn&#8217;t there a minute
+before? For if he didn&#8217;t know the hold-up was
+going to occur why did he bring Mr. Cullison&#8217;s
+hat with him punctured so neatly with bullet holes?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll bet a thousand dollars he is at the bottom
+of this whole thing,&#8221; Mackenzie added angrily.</p>
+<p>The sheriff flushed. &#8220;You gentlemen are entitled
+to your opinions just as I&#8217;m entitled to mine. You
+haven&#8217;t even proved he took Mr. Cullison&#8217;s hat;
+you&#8217;ve merely showed he may have done it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve given you a motive and some evidence.
+How much more do you want?&#8221; Curly demanded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hold your hawses a while, Flandrau, and look
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span>
+at this thing reasonable. You&#8217;re all prejudiced for
+Cullison and against Fendrick. Talk about evidence!
+There&#8217;s ten times as much against your
+friend as there is against Cass.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you&#8217;ll not arrest Fendrick?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;When you give me good reason to do it,&#8221; Bolt
+returned doggedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all right, Mr. Sheriff. Now we know
+where you stand,&#8221; Flandrau, Senior, said stiffly.</p>
+<p>The harassed official mopped his face with a
+bandanna. &#8220;Sho! You all make me tired. I&#8217;m
+not Fendrick&#8217;s friend while I&#8217;m in this office any
+more than I&#8217;m Luck&#8217;s, But I&#8217;ve got to use my
+judgment, ain&#8217;t I?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The four adjourned to meet at the Del Mar for
+a discussion of ways and means.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll keep a watch on Fendrick&mdash;see where he
+goes, who he talks to, what he does. Maybe he&#8217;ll
+make a break and give himself away,&#8221; Curly said
+hopefully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But my father&mdash;we must rescue him first.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;As soon as we find where he is. Me, I&#8217;m right
+hopeful all&#8217;s well with him. Killing him wouldn&#8217;t
+help Cass any, because you and Sam would prove
+up on the claim. But if he could hold your father
+a prisoner and get him to sign a relinquishment to
+him he would be in a fine position.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;But Father wouldn&#8217;t sign. He ought to know
+that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not through fear your father wouldn&#8217;t. But
+if Fendrick could get at him some way he might
+put down his John Hancock. With this trouble of
+Sam still unsettled and the Tin Cup hold-up to be
+pulled off he might sign.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If we could only have Fendrick arrested&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What good would that do? If he&#8217;s guilty he
+wouldn&#8217;t talk. And if he is holding your father
+somewhere in the hills it would only be serving
+notice that we were getting warm. No, I&#8217;m for a
+still hunt. Let Cass ride around and meet his partners
+in this deal. We&#8217;ll keep an eye on him all
+right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe you&#8217;re right,&#8221; Kate admitted with a sigh.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VII_ANONYMOUS_LETTERS' id='VII_ANONYMOUS_LETTERS'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+<h3>ANONYMOUS LETTERS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Sheriff Bolt, though a politician, was an honest
+man. It troubled him that Cullison&#8217;s friends believed
+him to be a partisan in a matter of this
+sort. For which reason he met more than half
+way Curly&#8217;s overtures. Young Flandrau was in the
+office of the sheriff a good deal, because he wanted
+to be kept informed of any new developments in
+the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. robbery case.</p>
+<p>It was on one of those occasions that Bolt tossed
+across to him a letter he had just opened.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been getting letters from the village cut-up
+or from some crank, I don&#8217;t know which. Here&#8217;s
+a sample.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The envelope, addressed evidently in a disguised
+hand, contained one sheet of paper. Upon this
+was lettered roughly,</p>
+<div class='ce'>
+<p>&#8220;Play the Jack of Hearts.&#8221;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Flandrau looked up with a suggestion of eagerness
+in his eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you reckon it means?&#8221; he asked.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Search me. Like as not it don&#8217;t mean a thing.
+The others had just as much sense as that one.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s see the others.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I chucked them into the waste paper basket.
+One came by the morning mail yesterday and one
+by the afternoon. I&#8217;m no mind reader, and I&#8217;ve got
+no time to guess fool puzzles.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly observed that the waste paper basket was
+full. Evidently it had not been emptied for two
+or three days.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mind if I look for the others?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>Bolt waved permission. &#8220;Go to it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The young man emptied the basket on the floor
+and went over its contents carefully. He found
+three communications from the unknown writer.
+Each of them was printed by hand on a sheet of
+cheap lined paper torn from a scratch pad. He
+smoothed them out and put them side by side on
+the table. This was what he read:</p>
+<div class='ce'>
+<p>HEARTS ARE TRUMPS</p>
+<p>WHEN IN DOUBT PLAY TRUMPS</p>
+<p>PLAY TRUMPS <i>NOW</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>There was only the one line to each message, and
+all of them were plainly in the same hand. He
+could make out only one thing, that someone was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span>
+trying to give the sheriff information in a guarded
+way.</p>
+<p>He was still puzzling over the thing when a boy
+came with a special delivery letter for the sheriff.
+Bolt glanced at it and handed the note to Curly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Another <i>billy doo</i> from my anxious friend.&#8221;</p>
+<p>This time the sender had been in too much of
+a hurry to print the words. They were written in
+a stiff hand by some uneducated person.</p>
+<div class='ce'>
+<p>The Jack of Trumps, to-day</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mind if I keep these?&#8221; Curly asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Take &#8217;em along.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flandrau walked out to the grandstand at the
+fair grounds and sat down by himself there to think
+out what connection, if any, these singular warnings
+might have with the vanishing of Cullison or
+the robbery of the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. He wasted three
+precious hours without any result. Dusk was falling
+before he returned.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Guess I&#8217;ll take them to my little partner and
+give her a whack at the puzzle,&#8221; he decided.</p>
+<p>Curly strolled back to town along El Molino
+street and down Main. He had just crossed the
+old Spanish plaza when his absorbed gaze fell on
+a sign that brought him up short. In front of a
+cigar store stretched across the sidewalk a painted
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span>
+picture of a jack of hearts. The same name was on
+the window.</p>
+<p>Fifty yards behind him was the Silver Dollar
+saloon, where Luck Cullison had last been seen on
+his way to the Del Mar one hundred and fifty yards
+in front of him. Somewhere within that distance
+of two hundred yards the owner of the Circle C
+had vanished from the sight of men. The evidence
+showed he had not reached the hotel, for a cattle
+buyer had been waiting there to talk with him.
+His testimony, as well as that of the hotel clerk,
+was positive.</p>
+<p>Could this little store, the Jack of Hearts, be
+the central point of the mystery? In his search
+for information Curly had already been in it, had
+bought a cigar, and had stopped to talk with Mrs.
+Wylie, the proprietor. She was a washed-out little
+woman who had once been pretty. Habitually she
+wore a depressed, hopeless look, the air of pathetic
+timidity that comes to some women who have found
+life too hard for them. It had been easy to alarm
+her. His first question had evidently set her heart
+a-flutter, but Flandrau had reassured her cheerfully.
+She had protested with absurd earnestness that she
+had seen nothing of Mr. Cullison. A single glance
+had been enough to dismiss her from any possible
+suspicion.</p>
+<p>Now Curly stepped in a second time. The
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span>
+frightened gaze of Mrs. Wylie fastened upon him
+instantly. He observed that her hand moved instinctively
+to her heart. Beyond question she was
+in fear. A flash of light clarified his mind. She
+was a conspirator, but an unwilling one. Possibly
+she might be the author of the anonymous warnings
+sent Bolt.</p>
+<p>The young <i>vaquero</i> subscribed for a magazine
+and paid her the money. Tremblingly she filled out
+the receipt. He glanced at the slip and handed it
+back.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just write below the signature &#8216;of the Jack of
+Hearts,&#8217; so that I&#8217;ll remember where I paid the
+money if the magazine doesn&#8217;t come,&#8221; he suggested.</p>
+<p>She did so, and Curly put the receipt in his
+pocket carelessly. He sauntered leisurely to the
+hotel, but as soon as he could get into a telephone
+booth his listlessness vanished. Maloney had returned
+to town and he telephoned him to get Mackenzie
+at once and watch the Jack of Hearts in
+front and rear. Before he left the booth Curly had
+compared the writing of Mrs. Wylie with that on
+the sheet that had come by special delivery. The
+loop of the J&#8217;s, the shape of the K&#8217;s, the formation
+of the capital H in both cases were alike. So
+too was the general lack of character common to
+both, the peculiar hesitating drag of the letters.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span>
+Beyond question the same person had written both.</p>
+<p>Certainly Mrs. Wylie was not warning the sheriff
+against herself. Then against whom? He must
+know her antecedents, and at once. There was no
+time for him to mole them out himself. Calling
+up a local detective agency, he asked the manager
+to let him know within an hour or two all that
+could be found out about the woman without alarming
+her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait a moment I think we have her on file.
+Hold the &#8217;phone.&#8221; The detective presently returned.
+&#8220;Yes. We can give you the facts. Will you come
+to the office for them?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fifteen minutes later Curly knew that Mrs. Wylie
+was the divorced wife of Lute Blackwell. She had
+come to Saguache from the mountains several years
+before. Soon after there had been an inconspicuous
+notice in the <i>Sentinel</i> to the effect that Cora Blackwell
+was suing for divorce from Lute Blackwell,
+then a prisoner in the penitentiary at Yuma. Another
+news item followed a week later stating that
+the divorce had been granted together with the
+right to use her maiden name. Unobtrusively she
+had started her little store. Her former husband,
+paroled from the penitentiary a few months before
+the rustling episode, had at intervals made of her
+shop a loafing place since that time.</p>
+<p>Curly returned to the Del Mar and sent his name
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span>
+up to Miss Cullison. With Kate and Bob there was
+also in the room Alec Flandrau.</p>
+<p>The girl came forward lightly to meet him with
+the lance-straight poise that always seemed to him
+to express a brave spirit ardent and unafraid.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you heard something?&#8221; she asked quickly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Tell me, when did your father last meet
+Lute Blackwell so far as you know?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. Not for years, I think. Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The owner of the Map of Texas answered the
+question of his nephew. &#8220;He met him the other
+day. Let&#8217;s see. It was right after the big poker
+game. We met him downstairs here. Luck had
+to straighten out some notions he had got.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Flandrau, Senior, told the story of what had occurred
+in the hotel lobby.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you say he swore to get even?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what he said. And he looked like he
+meant it too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it? What have you found out?&#8221; Kate
+implored.</p>
+<p>The young man told about the letters and Mrs.
+Wylie.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve got to get a move on us,&#8221; he concluded.
+&#8220;For if Lute Blackwell did this thing to your father
+it&#8217;s mighty serious for him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate was white to the lips, but in no danger of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span>
+breaking down. &#8220;Yes, if this man is in it he would
+not stop at less than murder. But I don&#8217;t believe it.
+I know Father is alive. Cass Fendrick is the man
+we want. I&#8217;m sure of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly had before seen women hard as nails, gaunt
+strong mountaineers as tough as hickory withes.
+But he had never before seen that quality dwelling
+in a slim girlish figure of long soft curves, never
+seen it in a face of dewy freshness that could melt
+to the tenderest pity. She was like flint, and yet
+she could give herself with a passionate tenderness
+to those she loved. He had seen animals guard their
+young with that same alert eager abandon. His
+conviction was that she would gladly die for her
+father if it were necessary. As he looked at her
+with hard unchanging eyes, his blood quickened to
+a fierce joy in her it had known for no other woman.</p>
+<p>&#8220;First thing is to search the Jack of Hearts and
+see what&#8217;s there. Are you with me, Uncle Alec?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I sure am, Curly;&#8221; and he reached for his hat.</p>
+<p>Bob too was on his feet. &#8220;I&#8217;m going. You
+needn&#8217;t any of you say I ain&#8217;t, for I am.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly nodded. &#8220;If you&#8217;ll do as you&#8217;re told, Bob.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will. Cross my heart.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;May I come too?&#8221; Kate pleaded.</p>
+<p>She was a strongwilled impulsive young woman,
+and her deference to Curly flattered him; but he
+shook his head none the less.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;No. You may wait in the parlor downstairs
+and I&#8217;ll send Bob to you with any news. There&#8217;s
+just a chance this may be a man&#8217;s job and we want
+to go to it unhampered.&#8221; He turned at the door
+with his warm smile. &#8220;By the way, I&#8217;ve got some
+news I forgot. I know where your father got the
+money to pay his poker debts. Mr. Jordan of the
+Cattlemen&#8217;s National made him a personal loan.
+He figured it would not hurt the bank because the
+three men Luck paid it to would deposit it with the
+bank again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;By George, that&#8217;s what we did, too, every last
+one of us,&#8221; his uncle admitted.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Every little helps,&#8221; Kate said; and her little
+double nod thanked Curly.</p>
+<p>The young man stopped a moment after the
+others had gone. &#8220;I&#8217;m not going to let Bob get
+into danger,&#8221; he promised.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I knew you wouldn&#8217;t,&#8221; was her confident answer.</p>
+<p>At the corner of the plaza Curly gave Bob instructions.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You stay here and keep an eye on everyone that
+passes. Don&#8217;t try to stop anybody. Just size them
+up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t I to go with you? I got a gun.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re to do as I say. What kind of a soldier
+would you make if you can&#8217;t obey orders? I&#8217;m
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span>
+running this. If you don&#8217;t like it trot along home.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;ll stay,&#8221; agreed the crestfallen youth.</p>
+<p>Maloney met them in front of the Jack of Hearts.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dick, you go with me inside. Uncle Alec, will
+you keep guard outside?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, bub, I won&#8217;t. I knew Luck before you were
+walking bowlegged,&#8221; the old cattleman answered
+brusquely.</p>
+<p>Curly grinned. &#8220;All right. Don&#8217;t blame me if
+you get shot up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Wylie&#8217;s startled eyes told tales when she
+saw the three men. Her face was ashen.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m here to play trumps, Mrs. Wylie. What
+secret has the Jack of Hearts got hidden from us?&#8221;
+young Flandrau demanded, his hard eyes fastened to
+her timorous ones.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I&mdash;I don&#8217;t know what you mean.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No use. We&#8217;re here for business. Dick, you
+stay with her. Don&#8217;t let her leave or shout a warning.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He passed into the back room, which was a kind
+of combination living room, kitchen and bedroom.
+A door led from the rear into a back yard littered
+with empty packing cases, garbage cans and waste
+paper. After taking a look around the yard he
+locked the back door noiselessly. There was no
+other apparent exit from the kitchen-bedroom except
+the one by which he and his uncle had entered
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span>
+from the shop. But he knew the place must have
+a cellar, and his inspection of the yard had showed
+no entrance there. He drew back the Navajo rug
+that covered the floor and found one of the old-fashioned
+trap doors some cheap houses have. Into
+this was fitted an iron ring with which to lift it.</p>
+<p>From the darkness below came no sound, but
+Curly&#8217;s imagination conceived the place as full of
+shining eyes glaring up at him. Any bad men
+down there already had the drop on them. Therefore
+neither Curly nor his uncle made the mistake
+of drawing a weapon.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m coming down, boys,&#8221; young Flandrau announced
+in a quiet confident voice. &#8220;The place is
+surrounded by our friends and it won&#8217;t do you a
+whole lot of good to shoot me up. I&#8217;d advise you
+not to be too impulsive&#8221;</p>
+<p>He descended the steps, his face like a stone wall
+for all the emotion it recorded. At his heels came
+the older man. Curly struck a match, found an
+electric bulb above his head, and turned the button.
+Instantly the darkness was driven from the cellar.</p>
+<p>The two Flandraus were quite alone in the room.
+For furniture there was a table, a cot which had
+been slept in and not made up, and a couple of
+rough chairs. The place had no windows, no means
+of ventilation except through the trap door. Yet
+there were evidences to show that it had recently
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span>
+been inhabited. Half smoked cigars littered the
+floor. A pack of cards lay in disorder on the table.
+The <i>Sentinel</i> with date line of that day lay tossed
+in a corner.</p>
+<p>The room told Curly this at least: There had
+been a prisoner here with a guard or guards.
+Judging by the newspaper they had been here within
+a few hours. The time of sending the special delivery
+letter made this the more probable. He had
+missed the men he wanted by a very little time.
+If he had had the gumption to understand the hints
+given by the letters Cullison might now be eating
+supper with his family at the hotel.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Make anything out of it?&#8221; the older Flandrau
+asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s been here, but they&#8217;ve taken him away.
+Will you cover the telephoning? Have all the
+ranches notified that Luck is being taken into the
+hills so they can picket the trails.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you know he is being taken there?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. I guess. Blackwell is in it. He
+knows every nook of the hills. The party left here
+not two hours since, looks like.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly put the newspaper in his pocket and led the
+Way back to the store.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The birds have flown, Dick, Made their getaway
+through the alley late this afternoon, probably
+just after it got dark.&#8221; He turned to the woman.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span>
+&#8220;Mrs. Wylie, murder is going to be done, I
+shouldn&#8217;t wonder. And you&#8217;re liable to be held
+guilty of it unless you tell us all you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She began to weep, helplessly, but with a sort
+of stubbornness too. Frightened she certainly was,
+but some greater fear held her silent as to the
+secret. &#8220;I don&#8217;t know anything about it,&#8221; she repeated
+over and over.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Won&#8217;t do. You&#8217;ve got to speak. A man&#8217;s life
+hangs on it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But his resolution could not break hers, incomparably
+stronger than she though he was. Her
+conscience had driven her to send veiled warnings
+to the sheriff. But for very fear of her life she
+dared not commit herself openly.</p>
+<p>Maloney had an inspiration. He spoke in a low
+voice to Curly. &#8220;Let&#8217;s take her to the hotel. Miss
+Kate will know how to get it out of her better than
+we can.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Wylie went with them quietly enough. She
+was shaken with fears but still resolute not to speak.
+They might send her to prison. She would tell
+them nothing&mdash;nothing at all. For someone who
+had made terror the habit of her life had put the
+fear of death into her soul.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VIII_A_MESSAGE_IN_CIPHER' id='VIII_A_MESSAGE_IN_CIPHER'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+<h3>A MESSAGE IN CIPHER</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>While Kate listened to what Curly had to tell her
+the dark eyes of the girl were fastened upon the
+trembling little woman standing near the door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean that she is going to let my father
+be killed rather than tell what she knows?&#8221; Her
+voice was sharply incredulous, touched with a horror
+scarcely realized.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So she says.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Wylie wrung her hands in agitation. Her
+lined face was a mirror of distress.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But that&#8217;s impossible. She must tell. What has
+Father ever done to hurt her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I don&#8217;t know anything about it,&#8221; the harassed
+woman iterated.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the use of saying that when we know
+you do? And you&#8217;ll not get out of it by sobbing.
+You&#8217;ve <i>got</i> to talk.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate had not moved. None the less her force,
+the upblaze of feminine energy in her, crowded the
+little storekeeper to the wall. &#8220;You&#8217;ve got to tell&mdash;you&#8217;ve
+just got to,&#8221; she insisted.</p>
+<p>The little woman shrank before the energy of a
+passion so vital. No strength was in her to fight.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span>
+But she could and did offer the passive resistance
+of obstinate silence.</p>
+<p>Curly had drawn from his pocket the newspaper
+found in the cellar. His eyes had searched for the
+date line to use as cumulative evidence, but they
+had remained fastened to one story. Now he spoke
+imperatively.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come here, Miss Kate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She was beside him in an instant. &#8220;What is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not sure yet, but&mdash;&mdash; Look here. I believe
+this is a message to us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A message?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;From your father perhaps.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How could it be?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I found the paper in the cellar where he was.
+See how some of these words are scored. Done
+with a finger nail, looks like.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But how could he know we would see the paper,
+and if we did see it would understand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He couldn&#8217;t. It would be one chance in a million,
+but all his life he&#8217;s been taking chances. This
+couldn&#8217;t do any harm.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Her dark head bent beside his fair one with the
+crisp sun-reddened curls.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see any message. Where is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t see it myself&mdash;not much of it. Gimme
+time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>This was the paragraph upon which his gaze had
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span>
+fastened, and the words and letters were scored
+sharply as shown below, though in the case of single
+letters the mark ran through them instead of underneath,
+evidently that no mistake might be made as
+to which was meant.</p>
+<p style='margin-left:4px'>
+J. P. Kelley of the ranger force reports<br />
+over the telephone that by unexpected good<br />
+<span style='text-decoration:underline'>luck</span> he has succeeded in taking <span style='text-decoration:underline'>prisoner</span><br />
+the notorious <span style='text-decoration:underline'>Jack</span> Foster <span style='text-decoration:underline'>of</span> <span style='text-decoration:underline'>H</span><span style='text-decoration:underline'>e</span>rmosill<span style='text-decoration:underline'>a</span><br />
+and the <span style='text-decoration:underline'>R</span>incons no<span style='text-decoration:underline'>t</span>oriety and i<span style='text-decoration:underline'>s</span> <span style='text-decoration:underline'>now</span><br />
+bringing him to <span style='text-decoration:underline'>Saguache</span> where he will be<br />
+<span style='text-decoration:underline'>locked up pending a disposition of his case.</span><br />
+Kelley <span style='text-decoration:underline'>succeeded in surprising him</span> while<br />
+he was eating dinner at a Mexican road-house
+just this side of the border.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you make it out?&#8221; Maloney asked, looking
+over their shoulders.</p>
+<p>Curly took a pencil and an envelope from his
+pocket. On the latter he jotted down some words
+and handed the paper to his friend. This was what
+Maloney read:</p>
+<p style='font-family: monospace; margin-left: 4em'>
+...................................<br />
+.................... luck .........<br />
+... prisoner ....Jack....of He....a<br />
+....R......t......s now............<br />
+Saguache...locked up pending a dis-<br />
+position of his case...succeeded in<br />
+surprising him.....................<br />
+...................................<br />
+...................................</p>
+
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Read that right ahead.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dick did not quite get the idea, but Kate, tense
+with excitement, took the envelope and read aloud.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Luck&mdash;&mdash;prisoner&mdash;&mdash;Jack of Hearts&mdash;&mdash;now
+Saguache&mdash;&mdash;locked up pending a disposition of
+his case&mdash;&mdash;succeeded in surprising him.&#8221; She
+looked up with shining eyes. &#8220;He tells us everything
+but the names of the people who did it. Perhaps
+somewhere else in the paper he may tell that
+too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But though they went over it word for word they
+found no more. Either he had been interrupted,
+or he had been afraid that his casual thumb nail
+pressures might arouse the suspicion of his guards
+if persisted in too long.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s alive somewhere. We&#8217;ll save him now.&#8221;
+Kate cried it softly, all warm with the joy of it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Seems to let our friend Fendrick out,&#8221; Maloney
+mused.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lets him out of kidnapping Uncle Luck but
+maybe not out of the robbery,&#8221; Bob amended.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doesn&#8217;t let him out of either. Somebody was
+in this with Blackwell. If it wasn&#8217;t Cass Fendrick
+then who was it?&#8221; Kate wanted to know.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Might have been Soapy Stone,&#8221; Dick guessed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Might have been, but now Sam has gone back
+into the hills to join Soapy; the gang would have
+to keep it from Sam. He wouldn&#8217;t stand for it.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;No, not for a minute,&#8221; Kate said decisively.</p>
+<p>Curly spoke to her in a low voice. &#8220;You have
+a talk with Mrs. Wylie alone. We&#8217;ll pull our
+freights. She&#8217;ll tell you what she knows.&#8221; He
+smiled in his gentle winning way. &#8220;She&#8217;s sure had
+a tough time of it if ever a woman had. I reckon
+a little kindness is what she needs. Let her see
+we&#8217;re her friends and will stand by her, that we
+won&#8217;t let her come to harm because she talks. Show
+her we know everything anyhow but want her to
+corroborate details.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was an hour before Kate joined them, and
+her eyes, though they were very bright, told tales,
+of tears that had been shed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That poor woman! She has told me everything.
+Father has been down in that cellar for days under
+a guard. They took him away to-night. She
+doesn&#8217;t know where. It was she sent the warnings
+to Sheriff Bolt. She wanted him to raid the place,
+but she dared not go to him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because of Blackwell?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. He came straight to her as soon as he
+was freed from the penitentiary. He had her completely
+terrorized. It seems she has been afraid to
+draw a deep breath ever since he returned. Even
+while he was in the hills she was always looking
+for him to come. The man used to keep her in
+a hell and he began bullying her again. So she
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span>
+gave him money, and he came for more&mdash;and
+more.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly nodded. He said nothing, but his strong
+jaw clamped.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He was there that day,&#8221; the girl continued.
+&#8220;She plucked up courage to refuse him what little
+she had left because she needed it for the rent. He
+got hold of her arm and twisted it. Father heard
+her cry and came in. Blackwell was behind the
+door as it opened. He struck with a loaded cane
+and Father fell unconscious. He raised it to strike
+again, but she clung to his arm and called for help.
+Before he could shake her off another man came
+in. He wrenched the club away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fendrick?&#8221; breathed Curly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She doesn&#8217;t know. But the first thing he did
+was to lock the outer door and take the key. They
+carried Father down into the cellar. Before he
+came to himself his hands were tied behind his
+back.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And then?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They watched him day and night. Fendrick
+himself did not go near the place&mdash;if it was Fendrick.
+Blackwell swore to kill Mrs. Wylie if she
+told. They held him there till to-night. She thinks
+they were trying to get Father to sign some paper.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The relinquishment of course. That means the
+other man was Fendrick.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span></p>
+<p>Kate nodded. &#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Curly rose. The muscles stood out in his jaw;
+hard as steel ropes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll rake the Rincons with a fine tooth comb.
+Don&#8217;t you worry. I&#8217;ve already wired for Bucky
+O&#8217;Connor to come and help. We&#8217;ll get your Father
+out of the hands of those hell hounds. Won&#8217;t we,
+Dick?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The girl&#8217;s eyes admired him, a lean hard-bitten
+Westerner with eyes as unblinking as an Arizona
+sun and with muscles like wire springs. His face
+still held its boyishness, but it had lost forever the
+irresponsibility of a few months before. She saw
+in him an iron will, shrewdness, courage and resource.
+All of these his friend Maloney also had.
+But Curly was the prodigal son, the sinner who had
+repented. His engaging recklessness lent him a
+charm from which she could not escape. Out of ten
+thousand men there were none whose voice drummed
+on her heart strings as did that of this youth.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='IX__THE_FRIENDS_OF_L_C_SERVE_NOTICE' id='IX__THE_FRIENDS_OF_L_C_SERVE_NOTICE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+<h3>&#8220;THE FRIENDS OF L.&nbsp;C. SERVE NOTICE&#8221;</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Two men sat in a log cabin on opposite sides
+of a cheap table. One of them was immersed in a
+newspaper. His body was relaxed, his mind apparently
+at ease. The other watched him malevolently.
+His fingers caressed the handle of a revolver
+that protruded from the holster at his side.
+He would have liked nothing better than to have
+drawn it and sent a bullet crashing into the unperturbed
+brain of his prisoner.</p>
+<p>There were reasons of policy why it were better
+to curb this fascinating desire, but sometimes the
+impulse to kill surged up almost uncontrollably. On
+these occasions Luck Cullison was usually &#8220;deviling&#8221;
+him, the only diversion that had been open to
+the ranchman for some days past. Because of its
+danger&mdash;for he could never be quite sure that
+Blackwell&#8217;s lust for swift vengeance would not over-power
+discretion&mdash;this pastime made a peculiar
+appeal to the audacious temper of the owner of
+the Circle C.</p>
+<p>From time to time as Luck read he commented
+genially on the news.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I see Tucson is going to get the El Paso &amp;
+Southwestern extension after all. I&#8217;ll bet the boys
+in that burg will be right tickled to hear it. They
+sure have worked steady for it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Blackwell merely scowled. He never relaxed to
+the give and take of casual talk with his captive.
+Given his way, Cullison would not be here to read
+the <i>Sentinel</i>. But the brains of the conspiracy had
+ruled otherwise and had insisted too upon decent
+treatment. With one ankle securely tied to a leg
+of the table there was no danger in freeing the
+hands of the cattleman, but his hosts saw that never
+for an instant were hands and feet at liberty together.
+For this man was not the one with whom
+to take chances.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rudd has been convicted of forgery and taken
+to Yuma. Seems to me you used to live there,
+didn&#8217;t you?&#8221; asked the cattleman with cool insolence,
+looking up from his paper to smile across at
+the furious convict.</p>
+<p>Blackwell was livid. The man who had sent him
+to the territorial prison at Yuma dared to sit there
+bound and unarmed and taunt him with it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Take care,&#8221; he advised hoarsely.</p>
+<p>Cullison laughed and went back to the paper.</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Lieutenant O&#8217;Connor of the Arizona Rangers
+left town to-day for a short trip into the hills where
+he expects to spend a few days hunting.&#8217; Hunting
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span>
+what, do you reckon? Or hunting who, I should
+say. Ever meet Bucky O&#8217;Connor, Blackwell? No,
+I reckon not. He&#8217;s since your time. A crackerjack
+too! Wonder if Bucky ain&#8217;t after some friends of
+mine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shut up,&#8221; growled the other.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure you&#8217;ll be shut up&mdash;when Bucky lands you,&#8221;
+retorted Luck cheerfully. Then, with a sudden
+whoop: &#8220;Hello, here&#8217;s a personal to your address.
+Fine! They&#8217;re getting ready to round you up, my
+friend. Listen. &#8216;The friends of L.&nbsp;C. serve notice
+that what occurred at the Jack of Hearts is known.
+Any violence hereafter done to him will be paid for
+to the limit. No guilty man will escape.&#8217; So the
+boys are getting busy. I figured they would be.
+Looks like your chance of knocking me on the head
+has gone down Salt River. I tell you nowadays a
+man has to grab an opportunity by the tail when it&#8217;s
+there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The former convict leaned forward angrily.
+&#8220;Lemme see that paper.&#8221;</p>
+<p>His guest handed it over, an index finger pointing
+out the item. &#8220;Large as life, Blackwell. No,
+sir. You ce&#8217;tainly didn&#8217;t ride herd proper on that
+opportunity.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be too sure it&#8217;s gone, Mr. Sheriff.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The man&#8217;s face was twisted to an ugly sneer back
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span>
+of which lurked cruel menace. The gray eyes of
+Cullison did not waver a hair&#8217;s breadth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s gone. I&#8217;m as safe as if I were at the Circle
+C.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you think it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ve got you dead to rights. Read that personal
+again. Learn it by heart. &#8216;The friends of
+L.&nbsp;C. give warning.&#8217; You better believe they&#8217;re
+rounding up your outfit. They know I&#8217;m alive.
+They know all about the Jack of Hearts. Pretty
+soon they&#8217;ll know where you&#8217;ve got me hidden.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;d better pray they won&#8217;t. For if they find
+the nest it will be empty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221; Luck spoke with ironical carelessness, but
+he shot an alert keen glance at the other.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what I said. Want to know where you
+will be?&#8221; the other triumphed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see you want to tell me. Unload your mind.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Triumph overrode discretion. &#8220;Look out of that
+window behind you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck turned. The cabin was built on a ledge far
+up on the mountain side. From the back wall sloped
+for a hundred feet an almost perpendicular slide of
+rock.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a prospect hole down there,&#8221; Blackwell
+explained savagely. &#8220;You&#8217;d go down the Devil&#8217;s
+Slide&mdash;what&#8217;s left of you, I mean&mdash;deep into that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span>
+prospect hole. The timberings are rotted and the
+whole top of the working ready to cave in. When
+your body hits it there will be an avalanche&mdash;with
+Mr. Former-sheriff Cullison at the bottom of it.
+You&#8217;ll be buried without any funeral expenses, and
+I reckon your friends will never know where to
+put the headstone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The thing was devilishly simple and feasible.
+Luck, still looking out of the window, felt the blood
+run cold down his spine, for he knew this fellow
+would never stick at murder if he felt it would be
+safe. No doubt he was being well paid, and though
+in this workaday world revenge has gone out of
+fashion there was no denying that this ruffian would
+enjoy evening the score. But his confederate was
+of another stripe, a human being with normal passions
+and instincts. The cattleman wondered how
+he could reconcile it to his conscience to go into so
+vile a plot with a villain like the convict.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you see I&#8217;m right; you&#8217;d better pray your
+friends <i>won&#8217;t</i> find you. They can&#8217;t reach here without
+being heard. If they get to hunting these hills
+you sure want to hope they&#8217;ll stay cold, for just as
+soon as they get warm it will be the signal for you
+to shoot the chutes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck met his triumphant savagery with an impassive
+face. &#8220;Interesting if true. And where will
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span>
+you be when my friends arrive. I reckon it won&#8217;t
+be a pleasant meeting for Mr. Blackwell.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll be headed for Mexico. I tell you because
+you ain&#8217;t liable to go around spreading the news.
+There&#8217;s a horse saddled in the dip back of the hill
+crest. Get it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fine,&#8221; Cullison came back. &#8220;And you&#8217;ll ride
+right into some of Bucky O&#8217;Connor&#8217;s rangers. He&#8217;s
+got the border patroled. You&#8217;d never make it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t worry. I&#8217;d slip through. I&#8217;m no tenderfoot.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What if you did? Bucky would drag you back
+by the scruff of the neck in two weeks. Remember
+Chavez.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He referred to a murderer whom the lieutenant
+of rangers had captured and brought back to be
+hanged later.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Chavez was a fool.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Was he? You don&#8217;t get the point. The old
+days are gone. Law is in the saddle. Murder is
+no longer a pleasant pastime.&#8221; And Cullison
+stretched his arms and yawned.</p>
+<p>From far below there came through the open
+window the faint click of a horse&#8217;s hoofs ringing
+against the stones in the dry bed of a river wash.
+Swiftly Blackwell moved to the door, taking down
+a rifle from its rack as he did so. Cullison rose
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span>
+noiselessly in his chair. If it came to the worst he
+meant to shout aloud his presence and close with
+this fellow. Hampered as he was by the table,
+the man would get him without question. But if
+he could only sink his fingers into that hairy throat
+while there was still life in him he could promise
+that the Mexican trip would never take place.</p>
+<p>Blackwell, from his place by the door, could keep
+an eye both on his prisoner and on a point of the
+trail far below where horsemen must pass to reach
+the cabin.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sit down,&#8221; he ordered.</p>
+<p>Cullison&#8217;s eyes were like finely-tempered steel.
+&#8220;I&#8217;d rather stand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;By God, if you move from there&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; The man
+did not finish his sentence, but the rifle was already
+half lifted. More words would have been superfluous.</p>
+<p>A rider came into sight and entered the mouth
+of the cañon. He was waving a white handkerchief.
+The man in the doorway answered the signal.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not your friends this time, Mr. Sheriff,&#8221; Blackwell
+jeered.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I get a stay of execution, do I?&#8221; The cool
+drawling voice of the cattleman showed nothing of
+the tense feeling within.</p>
+<p>He resumed his seat and the reading of the newspaper.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span>
+Presently, to the man that came over the
+threshold he spoke with a casual nod.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Morning, Cass.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick mumbled a surly answer. The manner
+of ironical comradeship his captive chose to employ
+was more than an annoyance. To serve his ends
+it was necessary to put the fear of death into this
+man&#8217;s heart, which was a thing he had found impossible
+to do. His foe would deride him, joke
+with him, discuss politics with him, play cards with
+him, do anything but fear him. In the meantime
+the logic of circumstances was driving the sheepman
+into a corner. He had on impulse made the
+owner of the Circle C his prisoner. Seeing him
+lie there unconscious on the floor of the Jack of
+Hearts, it had come to him in a flash that he might
+hold him and force a relinquishment of the Del
+Oro claim. His disappearance would explain itself
+if the rumor spread that he was the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. express
+robber. Cass had done it to save himself from the
+ruin of his business, but already he had regretted
+it fifty times. Threats could not move Luck in the
+least. He was as hard as iron.</p>
+<p>So the sheepman found himself between the upper
+and the nether millstones. He could not drive his
+prisoner to terms and he dared not release him.
+For if Cullison went away unpledged he would
+surely send him to the penitentiary. Nor could he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span>
+hold him a prisoner indefinitely. He had seen the
+&#8220;personal&#8221; warning in both the morning and the
+afternoon papers. He guessed that the presence
+of the ranger Bucky O&#8217;Connor in Saguache was not
+a chance. The law was closing in on him. Somehow
+Cullison must be made to come through with
+a relinquishment and a pledge not to prosecute.
+The only other way out would be to let Blackwell
+wreak his hate on the former sheriff. From this he
+shrank with every instinct. Fendrick was a hard
+man. He would have fought it out to a finish if
+necessary. But murder was a thing he could not do.</p>
+<p>He had never discussed the matter with Blackwell.
+The latter had told him of this retreat in the
+mountains and they had brought their prisoner here.
+But the existence of the prospect hole at the foot
+of the Devil&#8217;s Slide was unknown to him. From
+the convict&#8217;s revenge he had hitherto saved Luck.
+Blackwell was his tool rather than his confederate,
+but he was uneasily aware that if the man yielded
+to the elemental desire to kill his enemy the law,
+would hold him, Cass Fendrick, guilty of the crime.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Price of sheep good this week?&#8221; Cullison asked
+amiably.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t come here to discuss the price of sheep
+with you.&#8221; Fendrick spoke harshly. A dull anger
+against the scheme of things burned in him. For
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span>
+somehow he had reached an <i>impasse</i> from which
+there was neither advance nor retreat.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Well, you&#8217;re right there. What I don&#8217;t
+know about sheep would fill several government reports.
+Of course I&#8217;ve got ideas. One of them
+is&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t care anything about your ideas. Are
+you going to sign this relinquishment?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck&#8217;s face showed a placid surprise. &#8220;Why no,
+Cass. Thought I mentioned that before.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;d better.&#8221; The sheepman&#8217;s harassed face
+looked ugly enough for anything.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t figure it out that way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve got to sign it. By God, you&#8217;ve no option.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No?&#8221; Still with pleasant incredulity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Think I&#8217;m going to let you get away from here
+now. You&#8217;ll sign and you&#8217;ll promise to tell nothing
+you know against us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I don&#8217;t reckon I will.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cullison was looking straight at him with his
+fearless level gaze. Fendrick realized with a sinking
+heart that he could not drive him that way to
+surrender. He knew that in the other man&#8217;s place
+he would have given way, that his enemy was gamer
+than he was.</p>
+<p>He threw up his hand in a sullen gesture that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span>
+disclaimed responsibility. &#8220;All right. It&#8217;s on your
+own head. I&#8217;ve done all I can for you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s on my head?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your life. Damn you, don&#8217;t you see you&#8217;re
+driving me too far?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How far?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not going to let you get away to send us
+to prison. What do you expect?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck&#8217;s frosty eyes did not release the other for
+a moment. &#8220;How are you going to prevent it,
+Cass?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll find a way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Blackwell&#8217;s way&mdash;the Devil&#8217;s Slide?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The puzzled look of the sheepman told Cullison
+that Blackwell&#8217;s plan of exit for him had not been
+submitted to the other.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your friend from Yuma has been explaining
+how he has arranged for me to cross the divide,&#8221;
+he went on. &#8220;I&#8217;m to be plugged full of lead, shot
+down that rock, and landed in a prospect hole at
+the bottom.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;First I&#8217;ve heard of it.&#8221; Fendrick wheeled upon
+his accomplice with angry eyes. He was in general
+a dominant man, and not one who would stand
+much initiative from his assistants.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s always deviling me,&#8221; complained the convict
+surlily. Then, with a flash of anger: &#8220;But
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span>
+I stand pat. He&#8217;ll get his before I take chances
+of getting caught. I&#8217;m nobody&#8217;s fool.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cass snapped him up. &#8220;You&#8217;ll do as I say.
+You&#8217;ll not lift a finger against him unless he tries
+to escape.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you seen the <i>Sentinel</i>? I tell you his
+friends know everything. Someone&#8217;s peached.
+They&#8217;re hot on our trail. Bucky O&#8217;Connor is in
+the hills. Think I&#8217;m going to be caught like a rat
+in a trap?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll talk of that later. Now you go look
+after my horse while I keep guard here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Blackwell went, protesting that he was no
+&#8220;nigger&#8221; to be ordered about on errands. As soon,
+as he was out of hearing Fendrick turned his thin
+lip-smile on the prisoner.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s up to you, Cullison. I saved your life once.
+I&#8217;m protecting you now. But if your friends show
+up he&#8217;ll do as he says. I won&#8217;t be here to stop him.
+Sign up and don&#8217;t be a fool.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck&#8217;s answer came easily and lightly. &#8220;My
+friend, we&#8217;ve already discussed that point.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You won&#8217;t change your mind?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your arguments don&#8217;t justify it, Cass.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The sheepman looked at him with a sinister significance.
+&#8220;Good enough. I&#8217;ll bring you one that
+will justify it <i>muy pronto</i>.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It will have to be a mighty powerful one. Sorry
+I can&#8217;t oblige you and your friend, the convict.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;ll be powerful enough.&#8221; Fendrick went to
+the door and called Blackwell. &#8220;Bring back that
+horse. I&#8217;m going down to the valley.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='X_CASS_FENDRICK_MAKES_A_CALL' id='X_CASS_FENDRICK_MAKES_A_CALL'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+<h3>CASS FENDRICK MAKES A CALL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Kate was in her rose garden superintending the
+stable boy as he loosened the dirt around the roots
+of some of the bushes. She had returned to the
+Circle C for a day or two to give some directions
+in the absence of her father. Buck and the other
+riders came to her for orders and took them without
+contempt. She knew the cattle business, and
+they knew she knew it. To a man they were proud
+of her, of her spirit, her energy, and her good looks.</p>
+<p>This rose garden was one evidence of her enterprise.
+No ranch in the county could show such a
+riot of bloom as the Circle C. The American
+Beauty, the Duchess, the La France bowed gracefully
+to neighbors of a dozen other choice varieties.
+Kate had brought this glimpse of Eden into the
+desert. She knew her catalogues by heart and she
+had the loving instinct that teaches all gardeners
+much about growing things.</p>
+<p>The rider who cantered up to the fence, seeing
+her in her well-hung corduroy skirt, her close-fitting
+blouse, and the broad-rimmed straw hat that shielded
+her dark head from the sun, appreciated the fitness
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span>
+of her surroundings. She too was a flower of the
+desert, delicately fashioned, yet vital with the bloom
+of health.</p>
+<p>At the clatter of hoofs she looked up from the
+bush she was trimming and at once rose to her
+feet. With the change in position she showed slim
+and tall, straight as a young poplar. Beneath their
+long lashes her eyes grew dark and hard. For
+the man who had drawn to a halt was Cass Fendrick.</p>
+<p>From the pocket of his shirt he drew a crumpled
+piece of stained linen.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve brought back your handkerchief, Miss Cullison.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What have you done with my father?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He nodded toward the Mexican boy and Kate
+dismissed the lad. When he had gone she asked
+her question again in exactly the same words.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If we&#8217;re going to discuss your father you had
+better get your quirt again,&#8221; the sheepman suggested,
+touching a scar on his face.</p>
+<p>A flush swept over her cheeks, but she held her
+voice quiet and even. &#8220;Where is Father? What
+have you done with him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He swung from the horse and threw the rein to
+the ground. Then, sauntering to the gate, he let
+himself in.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve surely got a nice posy garden here.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span>
+Didn&#8217;t know there was one like it in all sunbaked
+Arizona.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She stood rigid. Her unfaltering eyes, sloe-black
+in the pale face, never lifted from him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s only one thing you can talk to me about
+Where have you hidden my father?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve heard folks say he did himself all the hiding
+that was done.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know that isn&#8217;t true. That convict and
+you have hidden him somewhere. We have evidence
+enough to convict you both.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Imagination, most of it, I expect.&#8221; He was inspecting
+the roses and inhaling their bloom.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fact enough to send you to the penitentiary.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ought to be scared. This is a La France, ain&#8217;t
+it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want you to tell me what you have done with
+my father.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He laughed a little and looked at her with eyes
+that narrowed like those of a cat basking in the
+sun. He had something the look of the larger
+members of the cat family&mdash;the soft long tread, the
+compact rippling muscles of a tame panther, and
+with these the threat that always lies behind its
+sleepy wariness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a young lady of one idea. No use arguing
+with you, I reckon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not the least use. I&#8217;ve talked with Mrs. Wylie.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p>
+<p>He raised his eyebrows. &#8220;Do I know the lady?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She will know you. That is more to the point.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did she say she knew me?&#8221; he purred.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She will say it in court&mdash;if it ever comes to
+that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just what will she say, if you please.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate told him in four sentences with a stinging
+directness that was the outstanding note of her,
+that and a fine self-forgetful courage.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is that all? Comes to this then, that she says
+I heard her scream, ran in, and saved your father&#8217;s
+life. Is that a penitentiary offense? I don&#8217;t say
+it oughtn&#8217;t to be, but is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You helped the villain take his body into the
+cellar. You plotted with him to hold Father a
+prisoner there.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Says that, does she&mdash;that she overheard us
+plotting?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course she did not overhear what you said.
+You took good care of that. But she knew you
+were conspiring.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just naturally knew it without overhearing,&#8221; he
+derided. &#8220;And of course if I was in a plot I must
+have been Johnny-on-the-spot a good deal of the
+time. Hung round there a-plenty, I expect?&#8221;</p>
+<p>He had touched on the weak spot of Mrs. Wylie&#8217;s
+testimony. The man who had saved Cullison&#8217;s life,
+after a long talk with Blackwell, had gone out of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span>
+the Jack of Hearts and had not returned so far as
+she knew. For her former husband had sent her
+on an errand just before the prisoner was taken
+away and she did not know who had helped him.</p>
+<p>Kate was silent.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How would this do for an explanation?&#8221; he
+suggested lazily. &#8220;We&#8217;ll say just for the sake of
+argument that Mrs. Wylie&#8217;s story is true, that I did
+save your father&#8217;s life. We&#8217;ll put it that I did help
+carry him downstairs where it was cooler and that
+I did have a long talk with the fellow Blackwell.
+What would I be talking to him about, if I wasn&#8217;t
+reading the riot act to him? Ain&#8217;t it likely too
+that he would be sorry for what he did while he
+was angry at your father for butting in as he was
+having trouble with his wife? And after he had
+said he was sorry why shouldn&#8217;t I hit the road out
+of there? There&#8217;s no love lost between me and
+Luck Cullison. I wasn&#8217;t under any obligations to
+wrap him up in cotton and bring him back this side
+up with care to his anxious friends. If he chose
+later to take a hike out of town on p.d.q. hurry
+up business I ain&#8217;t to blame. And I reckon you&#8217;ll
+find a jury will agree with me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She had to admit to herself that he made out a
+plausible case. Not that she believed it for a moment.
+But very likely a jury would. As for his
+subsequent silence that could be explained by his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span>
+desire not to mix himself in the affairs of one with
+whom he was upon unfriendly terms. The irrefutable
+fact that he had saved the life of Cullison
+would go a long way as presumptive proof of his
+innocence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see you are wearing your gray hat again?
+What have you done with the brown one?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She had flashed the question at him so unexpectedly
+that he was startled, but the wary mask
+fell again over the sardonic face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You take a right friendly interest in my hats,
+seems to me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know this much. Father took your hat by
+mistake from the club. You bought a brown one
+half an hour later. You used Father&#8217;s to manufacture
+evidence against him. If it isn&#8217;t true that he
+is your prisoner how does it come that you have
+your gray hat again? You must have taken it from
+him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He laughed uneasily. She had guessed the exact
+truth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;In Arizona there are about forty thousand gray
+hats like this. Do you figure you can identify this
+one, Miss Cullison? And suppose your fairy tale
+of the Jack of Hearts is true, couldn&#8217;t I have
+swapped hats again while he lay there unconscious?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></p>
+<p>She brushed his explanation aside with a woman&#8217;s
+superb indifference to logic.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can talk of course. I don&#8217;t care. It is
+all lies&mdash;lies. You have kidnapped Father and are
+holding him somewhere. Don&#8217;t you dare to hurt
+him. If you should&mdash;Oh, if you should&mdash;you will
+wish you had never been born.&#8221; The fierceness of
+her passion beat upon him like sudden summer
+hail.</p>
+<p>He laughed slowly, well pleased. A lazy smoldering
+admiration shone in his half shuttered eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you&#8217;re going to take it out of me, are you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>A creature of moods, there came over her now a
+swift change. Every feature of her, the tense pose,
+the manner of defiant courage, softened indescribably.
+She was no longer an enemy bent on his destruction
+but a girl pleading for the father she loved.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why do you do it? You are a man. You want
+to fight fair. Tell me he is well. Tell me you will
+set him free.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He forgot for the moment that he was a man
+with the toils of the law closing upon him, forgot
+that his success and even his liberty were at stake.
+He saw only a girl with the hunger of love in her
+wistful eyes, and knew that it lay in his power to
+bring back the laughter and the light into them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Suppose I can&#8217;t fight fair any longer. Suppose
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span>
+I&#8217;ve let myself get trapped and it isn&#8217;t up to me but
+to somebody else.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Up to your father, say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My father?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. How could I turn him loose when the first
+thing he did would be to swear out a warrant for
+my arrest?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But he wouldn&#8217;t&mdash;not if you freed him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He laughed harshly. &#8220;I thought you knew him.
+He&#8217;s hard as nails.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She recognized the justice of this appraisal. &#8220;But
+he is generous too. He stands by his friends.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not his friend, not so you could notice it.&#8221;
+He laughed again, bitterly. &#8220;Not that it matters.
+Of course I was just putting a case. Nothing to
+it really.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He was hedging because he thought he had gone
+too far, but she appeared not to notice it. Her
+eyes had the faraway look of one who communes
+with herself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I could only see him and have a talk with
+him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What good would that do?&#8221; he pretended to
+scoff.</p>
+<p>But he watched her closely nevertheless.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think I could get him to do as I ask. He
+nearly always does.&#8221; Her gaze went swiftly back
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span>
+to him. &#8220;Let me talk with him. There&#8217;s a reason
+why he ought to be free now, one that would appeal
+to him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>This was what he had come for, but now that
+she had met him half way he hesitated. If she
+should not succeed he would be worse off than before.
+He could neither hold her a prisoner nor
+free her to lead the pack of the law to his hiding
+place. On the other hand if Cullison thought they
+intended to keep her prisoner he would have to
+compromise. He dared not leave her in the hands
+of Lute Blackwell. Fendrick decided to take a
+chance. At the worst he could turn them both free
+and leave for Sonora.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. I&#8217;ll take you to him. But you&#8217;ll have
+to do as I say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she agreed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m taking you to back my play. I tell you
+straight that Blackwell would like nothing better
+than to put a bullet through your father. But I&#8217;ve
+got a hold on the fellow that ties him. He&#8217;s got
+to do as I say. But if I&#8217;m not there and it comes
+to a showdown&mdash;if Bucky O&#8217;Connor for instance
+happens to stumble in&mdash;then it&#8217;s all off with Luck
+Cullison. Blackwell won&#8217;t hesitate a second. He&#8217;ll
+kill your father and make a bolt for it. That&#8217;s
+one reason why I&#8217;m taking you. I want to pile up
+witnesses against the fellow so as to make him go
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span>
+slow. But that&#8217;s not my main object. You&#8217;ve got
+to persuade Luck to come through with an agreement
+to let go of that Del Oro homestead and to
+promise not to prosecute us. He won&#8217;t do it to
+save his own life. He&#8217;s got to think you come there
+as my prisoner. See? He&#8217;s got to wrestle with
+the notion that you&#8217;re in the power of the damnedest
+villain that ever went unhung. I mean Blackwell.
+Let him chew on that proposition a while and see
+what he makes of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She nodded, white to the lips. &#8220;Let us go at
+once, please. I don&#8217;t want to leave Father alone
+with that man.&#8221; She called across to the corral.
+&#8220;Manuel, saddle the pinto for me. Hurry!&#8221;</p>
+<p>They rode together through the wind-swept sunlit
+land. From time to time his lazy glance embraced
+her, a supple graceful creature at perfect
+ease in the saddle. What was it about her that
+drew the eye so irresistibly? Prettier girls he had
+often seen. Her features were irregular, mouth and
+nose too large, face a little thin. Her contour lacked
+the softness, the allure that in some women was
+an unconscious invitation to cuddle. Tough as
+whipcord she might be, but in her there flowed a
+life vital and strong; dwelt a spirit brave and unconquerable.
+She seemed to him as little subtle as
+any woman he had ever met. This directness came
+no doubt from living so far from feminine influences.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span>
+But he had a feeling that if a man once
+wakened her to love, the instinct of sex would
+spring full-grown into being.</p>
+<p>They talked of the interests common to the
+country, of how the spring rains had helped the
+range, of Shorty McCabe&#8217;s broken leg, of the new
+school district that was being formed. Before she
+knew it Kate was listening to his defense of himself
+in the campaign between him and her
+father. He found her a partisan beyond chance
+of conversion. Yet she heard patiently his justification.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t make the conditions that are here. I
+have to accept them. The government establishes
+forest reserves on the range. No use ramming my
+head against a stone wall. Uncle Sam is bigger
+than we are. Your father and his friends got stubborn.
+I didn&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, you were very wise,&#8221; she admitted dryly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean because I adapted myself to the conditions
+and made the best of them. Why shouldn&#8217;t
+I?&#8221; he flushed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Father&#8217;s cattle had run over that range thirty
+years almost. What right had you to take it from
+him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Conditions change. He wouldn&#8217;t see it. I did.
+As for the right of it&mdash;well, Luck ain&#8217;t king of the
+valley just because he thinks he is.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span></p>
+<p>She began to grow angry. A dull flush burned
+through the tan of her cheeks.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you bought sheep and brought them in to
+ruin the range, knowing that they would cut the
+feeding ground to pieces, kill the roots of vegetation
+with their sharp hoofs, and finally fill the
+country with little gullies to carry off the water
+that ought to sink into the ground.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sheep ain&#8217;t so bad if they are run right.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It depends where they run. This is no place for
+them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what you hear your father say. He&#8217;s
+prejudiced.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you&#8217;re not, I suppose.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m more reasonable than he is.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, you are,&#8221; she flung back at him irritably.</p>
+<p>Open country lay before them. They had come
+out from a stretch of heavy underbrush. Catclaw
+had been snatching at their legs. Cholla had made
+the traveling bad for the horses. Now she put her
+pony to a canter that for the time ended conversation.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XI_A_COMPROMISE' id='XI_A_COMPROMISE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+<h3>A COMPROMISE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Luck lay stretched full length on a bunk, his face,
+to the roof, a wreath of smoke from his cigar traveling
+slowly toward the ceiling into a filmy blue cloud
+which hung above him. He looked the personification
+of vigorous full-blooded manhood at ease. Experience
+had taught him to take the exigencies of
+his turbulent life as they came, nonchalantly, to the
+eye of an observer indifferently, getting all the comfort
+the situation had to offer.</p>
+<p>By the table, facing him squarely, sat José
+Dominguez, a neatly built Mexican with snapping
+black eyes, a manner of pleasant suavity, and an
+ever-ready smile that displayed a double row of
+shining white teeth. That smile did not for an
+instant deceive Luck. He knew that José had no
+grudge against him, that he was a very respectable
+citizen, and that he would regretfully shoot him full
+of holes if occasion called for so drastic a termination
+to their acquaintanceship. For Dominguez had a
+third interest in the C.&nbsp;F. ranch, and he was the
+last man in the world to sacrifice his business for
+sentiment. Having put the savings of a lifetime
+into the sheep business, he did not propose to let
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span>
+anybody deprive him of his profits either legally or
+illegally.</p>
+<p>Luck was talking easily, in the most casual and
+amiable of voices.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Dominguez, the way I look at it you and
+Cass got in bad this time. Here&#8217;s the point. In
+this little vendetta of ours both sides were trying
+to keep inside the law and win out. When you
+elected Bolt sheriff that was one to you. When you
+took out that grazing permit and cut me off the
+reserve that was another time you scored heavy. A
+third time was when you brought &#8217;steen thousand
+of Mary&#8217;s little lambs baaing across the desert.
+Well, I come back at you by deeding the Circle C
+to my girl and taking up the Del Oro homestead.
+You contest and lose. Good enough. It&#8217;s up to
+you to try another move.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Si, Señor</i>, and we move immediate. We persuade
+you to visit us at our summer mountain home
+where we can talk at leisure. We suggest a compromise.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck grinned. &#8220;Your notion of a compromise
+and mine don&#8217;t tally, José. Your idea is for me
+to give you the apple and stand by while you eat it.
+Trouble is that both parties to this quarrel are
+grabbers.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;True, but Señor Cullison must remember his
+hands are tied behind him. He will perhaps not
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span>
+find the grabbing good,&#8221; his opponent suggested
+politely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come to that, your hands are tied too, my friend.
+You can&#8217;t hold me here forever. Put me out of
+business and the kid will surely settle your hash by
+proving up on the claim. What are you going to
+do about it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Since you ask me, I can only say that it depends
+on you. Sign the relinquishment, give us your word
+not to prosecute, and you may leave in three hours.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cullison shook his head. &#8220;That&#8217;s where you get
+in wrong. Buck up against the law and you are
+sure to lose.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If we lose you lose too,&#8221; Dominguez answered
+significantly.</p>
+<p>The tinkle of hoofs from the river bed in the
+gulch below rose through the clear air. The Mexican
+moved swiftly to the door and presently waved
+a handkerchief.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What gent are you wig-wagging to now?&#8221; Luck
+asked from the bed. &#8220;Thought I knew all you bold
+bad bandits by this time. Or is it Cass back again?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it&#8217;s Cass. There&#8217;s someone with him too.
+It is a woman,&#8221; the Mexican discovered in apparent
+surprise.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A woman!&#8221; Luck took the cigar from his
+mouth in vague unease. &#8220;What is he doing here
+with a woman?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span></p>
+<p>The Mexican smiled behind his open hand. &#8220;Your
+question anticipates mine, Señor. I too ask the
+same.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The sight of his daughter in the doorway went
+through the cattleman with a chilling shock. She
+ran forward and with a pathetic cry of joy threw
+herself upon him where he stood. His hands were
+tied behind him. Only by the turn of his head
+and by brushing his unshaven face against hers
+could he answer her caresses. There was a look of
+ineffable tenderness on his face, for he loved her
+more than anything else on earth.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Fendrick brought me,&#8221; she explained when
+articulate expression was possible.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He brought you, did he?&#8221; Luck looked across
+her shoulder at his enemy, and his eyes grew hard
+as jade.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of my own free will,&#8221; she added.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I promised you a better argument than those I&#8217;d
+given you. Miss Cullison is that argument,&#8221; Fendrick
+said.</p>
+<p>The cattleman&#8217;s set face had a look more deadly
+than words. It told Fendrick he would gladly have
+killed him where he stood. For Luck knew he was
+cornered and must yield. Neither Dominguez nor
+Blackwell would consent to let her leave otherwise.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He brought me here to have a talk with you,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span>
+Dad. You must sign any paper he wants you to
+sign.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And did he promise to take you back home after
+our talk?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Cullison would not want to leave as long
+as her father was here,&#8221; Fendrick answered for
+her glibly with a smile that said more than the
+words.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to hold you responsible for bringing
+her here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick could not face steadily the eyes of his
+foe. They bored into him like gimlets.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And responsible for getting her back home
+just as soon as I say the word,&#8221; Luck added,
+the taut muscles standing out in his clenched
+jaw.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I expect your say-so won&#8217;t be final in this matter,
+Luck. But I&#8217;ll take the responsibility. Miss Cullison
+will get home at the proper time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not going home till you do,&#8221; the girl broke
+in. &#8220;Oh, Dad, we&#8217;ve been so worried. You can&#8217;t
+think.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve played a rotten trick on me, Fendrick.
+I wouldn&#8217;t have thought it even of a sheepman.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No use you getting crazy with the heat, Cullison.
+Your daughter asked me to bring her here,
+and I brought her. Of course I&#8217;m not going to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span>
+break my neck getting her home where she can
+&#8217;phone Bolt or Bucky O&#8217;Connor and have us rounded
+up. That ain&#8217;t reasonable to expect. But I aim to
+do what&#8217;s right. We&#8217;ll all have supper together
+like sensible folks. Then José and I will give you
+the cabin for the night if you&#8217;ll promise not to
+attempt to escape. In the morning maybe you&#8217;ll
+see things different.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick calculated not without reason that the
+best thing to do would be to give Kate a chance for
+a long private talk with her father. Her influence
+would be more potent than any he could bring to
+bear.</p>
+<p>After supper the door of the cabin was locked and
+a sentry posted. The prisoners were on parole, but
+Cass did not on that account relax his vigilance.
+For long he and his partner could hear a low murmur
+of voices from within the cabin. At length
+the lights went out and presently the voices died.
+But all through the night one or the other of the
+sheepmen patroled a beat that circled around and
+around the house.</p>
+<p>Fendrick did not broach the subject at issue next
+morning till after breakfast.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what have you decided?&#8221; he asked at last.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s hear about that compromise. What is it
+you offer?&#8221; Luck demanded gruffly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You sign the relinquishment and agree not to
+make us any trouble because we brought you here,
+and you may go by two o&#8217;clock.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You want to reach Saguache with the relinquishment
+in time to file it before I could get to
+a &#8217;phone. You don&#8217;t trust me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick smiled. &#8220;When we let you go we&#8217;re
+trusting you a heap more than we would most men.
+But of course you&#8217;re going to be sore about this
+and we don&#8217;t want to put temptation in your way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see. Well, I accept your terms. I&#8217;ll make
+you no <i>legal</i> trouble. But I tell you straight this
+thing ain&#8217;t ended. It&#8217;s only just begun. I&#8217;m going
+to run you out of this country before I&#8217;m through
+with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go to it. We&#8217;ll see whether you make good.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is that paper you want me to sign?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck dashed off his signature and pushed the
+document from him. He hated the necessity that
+forced him to surrender. For himself he would
+have died rather than give way, but he had to think
+of his daughter and of his boy Sam who was engaged
+in a plot to hold up a train.</p>
+<p>His stony eyes met those of the man across the
+table. &#8220;No need for me to tell you what I think
+of this. A white man wouldn&#8217;t have done such a
+trick. It takes sheepherders and greasers to put
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span>
+across a thing so damnable as dragging a woman
+into a feud.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick flushed angrily. &#8220;It&#8217;s not my fault;
+you&#8217;re a pigheaded obstinate chump. I used the only
+weapon left me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate, standing straight and tall behind her
+father&#8217;s chair, looked at their common foe with uncompromising
+scorn. &#8220;He is not to blame, Dad.
+He can&#8217;t help it because he doesn&#8217;t see how despicable
+a thing he has done.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Again the blood rushed to the face of the sheepman.
+&#8220;I reckon that will hold me hitched for the
+present, Miss Cullison. In the meantime I&#8217;ll go
+file that homestead entry of mine. Nothing like
+living up to the opinion your friends have of you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He wheeled away abruptly, but as he went out
+of the door one word came to him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Friends!&#8221; Kate had repeated, and her voice
+told fully the contempt she felt.</p>
+<p>At exactly two o&#8217;clock Dominguez set the Cullisons
+on the homeward road. He fairly dripped
+apologies for the trouble to which he and his friends
+had been compelled to put them.</p>
+<p>Blackwell, who had arrived to take his turn as
+guard, stood in the doorway and sulkily watched
+them go.</p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-253.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 371px; height: 567px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 371px;'>
+SHE WAS THANKING GOD THE AFFAIR WAS ENDED<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span></div>
+<p>From the river bed below the departing guests
+looked up at the cabin hidden in the pines. The
+daughter was thanking God in her heart that the
+affair was ended. Her father was vowing to himself
+that it had just begun.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XII_AN_ARREST' id='XII_AN_ARREST'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+<h3>AN ARREST</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>After half a week in the saddle Lieutenant Bucky
+O&#8217;Connor of the Arizona Rangers and Curly Flandrau
+reached Saguache tired and travel-stained.
+They had combed the Rincons without having met
+hide or hair of the men they wanted. Early next
+morning they would leave town again and this time
+would make for Soapy Stone&#8217;s horse ranch.</p>
+<p>Bucky O&#8217;Connor was not disheartened. Though
+he was the best man hunter in Arizona, it was all
+in the day&#8217;s work that criminals should sometimes
+elude him. But with Curly the issue was a personal
+one. He owed Luck Cullison a good deal and
+his imagination had played over the picture of that
+moment when he could go to Kate and tell her he
+had freed her father.</p>
+<p>After reaching town the first thing each of them
+did was to take a bath, the second to get shaved.
+From the barber shop they went to the best restaurant
+in Saguache. Curly was still busy with
+his pie <i>à la mode</i> when Burridge Thomas, United
+States Land Commissioner for that district, took the
+seat opposite and told to O&#8217;Connor a most interesting
+piece of news.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></p>
+<p>They heard him to an end without interruption.
+Then Curly spoke one word. &#8220;Fendrick.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir, Cass Fendrick. Came in about one
+o&#8217;clock and handed me the relinquishment just as
+I&#8217;ve been telling you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then filed on the claim himself, you said.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, took it up himself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure the signature to the relinquishment was
+genuine?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d take oath to it. As soon as he had gone I
+got out the original filing and compared the two.
+Couldn&#8217;t be any possible mistake. Nobody could
+have forged the signature. It is like Luck himself,
+strong and forceful and decided.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re not entirely surprised, Mr. Thomas,&#8221;
+Lieutenant O&#8217;Connor told the commissioner. &#8220;In
+point of fact we&#8217;ve rather been looking for something
+of the kind.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you know where Luck is?&#8221; Thomas, a
+sociable garrulous soul, leaned forward eagerly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, we don&#8217;t. But we&#8217;ve a notion Fendrick
+knows.&#8221; Bucky gave the government appointee his
+most blandishing smile. &#8220;Of course we know <i>you</i>
+won&#8217;t talk about this, Mr. Thomas. Can we depend
+on your deputies?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll speak to them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re much obliged to you. This clears up a
+point that was in doubt to us. By the way, what
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span>
+was the date when the relinquishment was signed?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To-day.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And who was the notary that witnessed it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dominguez. He&#8217;s a partner of Fendrick in the
+sheep business.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Quite a family affair, isn&#8217;t it. Well, I&#8217;ll let you
+know how things come out, Mr. Thomas. You&#8217;ll
+be interested to know. Have a cigar.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bucky rose. &#8220;See you later, Curly. Sorry I
+have to hurry, Mr. Thomas, but I&#8217;ve thought of
+something I&#8217;ll have to do right away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bucky followed El Molino Street to the old plaza
+and cut across it to the Hotel Wayland. After a
+sharp scrutiny of the lobby and a nod of recognition
+to an acquaintance he sauntered to the desk
+and looked over the register. There, among the
+arrivals of the day, was the entry he had hoped
+to see.</p>
+<div class='ce'>
+<p>Cass Fendrick, C.&nbsp;F. Ranch, Arizona.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The room that had been assigned to him was 212.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anything you want in particular, Lieutenant?&#8221;
+the clerk asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No-o. Just looking to see who came in to-day.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He turned away and went up the stairs, ignoring
+the elevator. On the second floor he found 212.
+In answer to his knock a voice said &#8220;Come in.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span>
+Opening the door, he stepped in, closed it behind
+him, and looked at the man lying in his shirt sleeves
+on the bed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Evening, Cass.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick put down his newspaper but did not
+rise. &#8220;Evening, Bucky.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Their eyes held to each other with the level even
+gaze of men who recognize a worthy antagonist.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve come to ask a question or two.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Kick them out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;First, I would like to know what you paid Luck
+Cullison for his Del Oro claim.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thinking of buying me out?&#8221; was the ironical
+retort of the man on the bed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not quite. I&#8217;ve got another reason for wanting
+to know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you better ask Cullison. The law says
+that if a man <i>sells</i> a relinquishment he can&#8217;t file
+on another claim. If he surrenders it for nothing
+he can. Now Luck may have notions of filing on
+another claim. You can see that we&#8217;ll have to take
+it for granted he gave me the claim.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was so neat an answer and at the same time
+so complete a one that O&#8217;Connor could not help
+appreciating it. He smiled and tried again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll put that question in the discard. That
+paper was signed by Luck to-day. Where was he
+when you got it from him?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure it was signed to-day? Couldn&#8217;t it have
+been ante-dated?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know better than I do. When was it
+signed?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick laughed. He was watching the noted
+officer of rangers with narrowed wary eyes. &#8220;On
+advice of counsel I decline to answer.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sorry, Cass. That leaves me only one thing
+to do. You&#8217;re under arrest.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For what?&#8221; demanded the sheepman sharply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For abducting Luck Cullison and holding him
+prisoner without his consent.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Lazily Cass drawled a question. &#8220;Are you right
+sure Cullison can&#8217;t be found?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you right sure he ain&#8217;t at home attending
+to his business?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Has he come back?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe so. I&#8217;m not Luck Cullison&#8217;s keeper.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bucky thought he understood. In return for the
+relinquishment Cullison had been released. Knowing
+Luck as he did, it was hard for him to see how
+pressure enough had been brought to bear to move
+him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;May I use your &#8217;phone?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Help yourself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick pretended to have lost interest. He returned
+to his newspaper, but his ears were alert to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span>
+catch what went on over the wires. It was always
+possible that Cullison might play him false and
+break the agreement. Cass did not expect this, for
+the owner of the Circle C was a man whose word
+was better than most men&#8217;s bond. But the agreement
+had been forced upon him through a trick.
+How far he might feel this justified him in ignoring
+it the sheepman did not know.</p>
+<p>O&#8217;Connor got the Circle C on long distance. It
+was the clear contralto of a woman that answered
+his &#8220;Hello!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is this Miss Cullison?&#8221; he asked. Almost at
+once he added: &#8220;O&#8217;Connor of the rangers is speaking.
+I&#8217;ve heard your father is home again. Is
+that true?&#8221;</p>
+<p>An interval followed during which the ranger
+officer was put into the role of a listener. His
+occasional &#8220;Yes&mdash;&mdash;Yes&mdash;&mdash;Yes&#8221; punctuated the
+rapid murmur that reached Fendrick.</p>
+<p>Presently Bucky asked a question. &#8220;On his way
+to town now?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Again the rapid murmur.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll attend to that, Miss Cullison. I am in Fendrick&#8217;s
+room now. Make your mind easy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bucky hung up and turned to the sheepman. The
+latter showed him a face of derision. He had
+gathered one thing that disquieted him, but he did
+not intend to let O&#8217;Connor know it.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; he jeered. &#8220;Find friend Cullison in
+tolerable health?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been talking with his daughter.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I judged as much. Miss Spitfire well?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Cullison didn&#8217;t mention her health. We
+were concerned about yours.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cullison is headed for town and his daughter is
+afraid he is on the warpath against you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She wanted me to get you out of her father&#8217;s
+way until he has cooled down.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very kind of her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s right, too. You and Luck mustn&#8217;t meet
+yet. Get out of here and hunt cover in the hills for
+a few days. You know why better than I do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How can I when I&#8217;m under arrest?&#8221; Fendrick
+mocked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re not under arrest. Miss Cullison says
+her father has no charge to bring against you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good of him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you can light a shuck soon as you want to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Which won&#8217;t be in any hurry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t make any mistake. Luck Cullison is a
+dangerous man when he is roused.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The sheepman looked at the ranger with opaque
+stony eyes. &#8220;If Luck Cullison is looking for me he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span>
+is liable to find me, and he won&#8217;t have to go into
+the hills to hunt me either.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bucky understood perfectly. According to the
+code of the frontier no man could let himself be
+driven from town by the knowledge that another
+man was looking for him with a gun. There are in
+the Southwest now many thousands who do not live
+by the old standard, who are anchored to law and
+civilization as a protection against primitive passions.
+But Fendrick was not one of these. He had
+deliberately gone outside of the law in his feud
+with the cattleman. Now he would not repudiate
+the course he had chosen and hedge because of the
+danger it involved. He was an aspirant to leadership
+among the tough hard-bitted denizens of the
+sunbaked desert. That being so, he had to see his
+feud out to a fighting finish if need be.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There are points about this case you have overlooked,&#8221;
+Bucky told him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe so. But the important one that sticks
+out like a sore thumb is that no man living can
+serve notice on me to get out of town because he is
+coming on the shoot.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Luck didn&#8217;t serve any such notice. All his
+daughter knows is that he is hot under the collar.
+Look at things reasonably, Cass. You&#8217;ve caused
+that young lady a heap of trouble already. Are
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span>
+you going to unload a lot more on her just because
+you want to be pigheaded. Only a kid struts around
+and hollers &#8216;Who&#8217;s afraid?&#8217; No, it&#8217;s up to you
+to pull out, not because of Luck Cullison but on
+account of his daughter.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who is such a thorough friend of mine,&#8221; the
+sheepman added with his sardonic grin.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you care about that? She&#8217;s a girl. I
+don&#8217;t know the facts, but I can guess them. She and
+Luck will stand pat on what they promised you.
+Don&#8217;t you owe her something for that? Seems to me
+a white man wouldn&#8217;t make her any more worry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s because I am a white man that I can&#8217;t dodge
+a fight when it&#8217;s stacked up for me, Bucky.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He said it with a dogged finality that was unshaken,
+but O&#8217;Connor made one more effort.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nobody will know why you left.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I would know, wouldn&#8217;t I? I&#8217;ve got to go right
+on living with myself. I tell you straight I&#8217;m
+going to see it out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bucky&#8217;s jaw clamped. &#8220;Not if I know it. You&#8217;re
+under arrest.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick sat up in surprise. &#8220;What for?&#8221; he
+demanded angrily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For robbing the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. Express Company.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hell, Bucky. You don&#8217;t believe that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never mind what I believe. There&#8217;s some evidence
+against you&mdash;enough to justify me.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You want to get me out of Cullison&#8217;s way.
+That&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you like to put it so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t stand for it. That ain&#8217;t square.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll stand for it, my friend. I gave you a
+chance to clear out and you wouldn&#8217;t take it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t because I couldn&#8217;t. Don&#8217;t make any
+mistake about this. I&#8217;m not looking for Luck. I&#8217;m
+attending to my business. Arrest <i>him</i> if you want
+to stop trouble.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There came a knock on the door. It opened to
+admit Luck Cullison. He shut it and put his back
+to it, while his eyes, hard as hammered iron, swept
+past the officer to fix on Fendrick.</p>
+<p>The latter rose quickly from the bed, but O&#8217;Connor
+flung him back.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t forget you&#8217;re my prisoner.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s your prisoner, is he?&#8221; This was a turn of
+affairs for which Luck was manifestly unprepared:
+&#8220;Well, I&#8217;ve come to have a little settlement with
+him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick, tense as a coiled spring, watched him
+warily. &#8220;Can&#8217;t be any too soon to suit me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Clear cut as a pair of scissors through paper,
+Bucky snapped out his warning. &#8220;Nothing stirring,
+gentlemen. I&#8217;ll shoot the first man that makes a
+move.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you in this, Bucky?&#8221; asked Cullison evenly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re right I am. He&#8217;s my prisoner.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What for?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For robbing the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck&#8217;s face lit. &#8220;Have you evidence enough to
+cinch him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not enough yet. But I&#8217;ll take no chances on
+his getting away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The cattleman&#8217;s countenance reflected his thoughts
+as his decision hung in the balance. He longed to
+pay his debt on the spot. But on the other hand
+he had been a sheriff himself. As an outsider he
+had no right to interfere between an officer and his
+captive. Besides, if there was a chance to send
+Fendrick over the road that would be better than
+killing. It would clear up his own reputation, to
+some extent under a cloud.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, Bucky. If the law wants him I&#8217;ll step
+aside for the time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The sheepman laughed in his ironic fashion. His
+amusement mocked them both. &#8220;Most as good as a
+play of the movies, ain&#8217;t it? But we&#8217;d ought all
+to have our guns out to make it realistic.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But in his heart he did not jeer. For the situation
+had been nearer red tragedy than melodrama.
+The resource and firmness of Bucky O&#8217;Connor had
+alone made it possible to shave disaster by a hair&#8217;s
+breadth and no more.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIII_A_CONVERSATION' id='XIII_A_CONVERSATION'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+<h3>A CONVERSATION</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Bucky O&#8217;Connor and his prisoner swung down
+the street side by side and turned in at the headquarters
+of the rangers. The officer switched on
+the light, shut the door, and indicated a chair. From
+his desk he drew a box of cigars. He struck a
+match and held it for the sheepman before using it
+himself.</p>
+<p>Relaxed in his chair, Fendrick spoke with rather
+elaborate indolence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s your evidence, Bucky? You can&#8217;t hold
+me without any. What have you got that ties me
+to the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. robbery?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, that hat play, Cass? You let on you had
+shot Cullison&#8217;s hat off his head while he was making
+his getaway. Come to find out you had his hat in
+your possession all the time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Does that prove I did it myself?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Looks funny you happened to be right there
+while the robbery was taking place and that you
+had Luck&#8217;s hat with you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The sleepy tiger look lay warily in the sheepman&#8217;s
+eyes. &#8220;That&#8217;s what the dictionaries call a coincidence,
+Bucky.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;They may. I&#8217;m not sure I do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fact, just the same.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve a notion it will take some explaining.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Confidentially?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Confidentially what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The explanation. You won&#8217;t use it against me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not if you weren&#8217;t in the hold-up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wasn&#8217;t. This is the way it happened. You
+know Cullison was going to prove up on that Del
+Oro claim on Thursday. That would have put the
+C.&nbsp;F. ranch out of business. I knew he was in town
+and at the Del Mar, but I didn&#8217;t know where he
+would be next day. He had me beat. I couldn&#8217;t
+see any way out but to eat crow and offer a compromise.
+I hated it like hell, but it was up to me
+to hunt Luck up and see what he would do. His
+hat gave me an excuse to call. So I started out
+and came round the corner of San Mateo Street
+just in time to see the robber pull out. Honest,
+the fellow did shape up a little like Luck. Right
+then I got the darned fool notion of mixing him
+up in it. I threw his hat down and shot a hole in
+it, then unlocked the door of the express office
+carrying the hat in my hand. That&#8217;s all there was
+to it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pretty low-down trick, wasn&#8217;t it, to play on an
+innocent man?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He was figuring to do me up. I don&#8217;t say it
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span>
+was exactly on the square, but I was sore at him
+clear through. I wanted to get him into trouble.
+I <i>had</i> to do something to keep his mind busy till I
+could turn round and think of a way out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bucky reflected, looking at the long ash on his
+cigar. &#8220;The man that made the raid of the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S.
+shaped up like Luck, you say?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In a general way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The ranger brushed the ash from the end of the
+cigar into the tray. Then he looked quietly at Fendrick.
+&#8220;Who was the man, Cass?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought I told you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You did. But you lied. It was a moonlight
+night. And there&#8217;s an arc light at that corner. By
+your own story, the fellow took his mask off as he
+swung to his horse. You saw his face just as distinctly
+as I see yours now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I reckon not,&#8221; Fendrick grinned.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Meaning you won&#8217;t tell?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s not how I put it, Bucky. You&#8217;re the one
+that says I recognized him. Come to think of it,
+I&#8217;m not sure the fellow didn&#8217;t wear his mask till he
+was out of sight.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. The mask was found just outside the
+office where the man dropped it before he got into
+the saddle.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;So?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s not all. Curly and I found something
+else, too&mdash;the old shirt from which the cloth was
+cut.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The sheepman swept him with one of his side-long,
+tiger-cat glances. &#8220;Where did you find it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In a barrel back of the Jack of Hearts.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, if you only knew who put it there,&#8221; suggested
+Cass, with ironic hopefulness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It happens I do. I have a witness who saw a
+man shove that old shirt down in the barrel after
+tearing a piece off.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your witness got a name, Bucky?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll not mention the name now. If it became
+too well known something might happen to my witness.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick nodded. &#8220;You&#8217;re wiser there. She
+wouldn&#8217;t be safe, not if a certain man happened to
+hear what you&#8217;ve just told me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t say <i>she</i>, Cass.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I said it. Your witness is Mrs. Wylie.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe, then, you can guess the criminal, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Maybe I could, but I&#8217;m not going to try.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then we&#8217;ll drop that subject. I&#8217;ll ask you a
+question. Can you tell me where I can find a paroled
+convict named Blackwell?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick shook his head. &#8220;Don&#8217;t know the gentleman.
+A friend of yours?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;One of yours. Better come through, Cass. I&#8217;m
+satisfied you weren&#8217;t actually in this robbery, but
+there is such a thing as accessory after the fact.
+Now, I&#8217;m going to get that man. If you want to
+put yourself right, it&#8217;s up to you to give me the
+information I want. Where is he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Haven&#8217;t got him in <i>my</i> pocket.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The officer rose, not one whit less amiable. &#8220;I
+didn&#8217;t expect you to tell me. That&#8217;s all right. I&#8217;ll
+find him. But in the meantime I&#8217;ll have to lock you
+up till this thing is settled.&#8221;</p>
+<p>From his inside coat pocket, Fendrick drew a
+sealed envelope, wrote the date across the front,
+and handed it to O&#8217;Connor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Keep this, Bucky, and remember that I gave it
+to you. Put it in a safe place, but don&#8217;t open the
+envelope till I give the word. Understand?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hear what you say, but I don&#8217;t understand
+what you mean&mdash;what&#8217;s back of it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t intended that you should yet. I&#8217;m protecting
+myself. That&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I guessed that much. Well, if you&#8217;re ready, I&#8217;ll
+arrange your lodgings for the night, Cass. I
+reckon I&#8217;ll put you up at a hotel with one of the
+boys.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just as you say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick rose, and the two men passed into the
+street.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIV_A_TOUCH_OF_THE_THIRD_DEGREE' id='XIV_A_TOUCH_OF_THE_THIRD_DEGREE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+<h3>A TOUCH OF THE THIRD DEGREE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Cullison was not the man to acknowledge himself
+beaten so long as there was a stone unturned. In
+the matter of the Del Oro homestead claim he
+moved at once. All of the county commissioners
+were personal friends of his, and he went to them
+with a plan for a new road to run across the Del
+Oro at the point where the cañon walls opened to a
+valley.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What in Mexico is the good of a county road
+there, Luck? Can&#8217;t run a wagon over them mountains
+and down to the river. Looks to me like it
+would be a road from nowhere to nowhere,&#8221; Alec
+Flandrau protested, puzzled at his friend&#8217;s request.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I done guessed it,&#8221; Yesler announced with a
+grin. &#8220;Run a county road through, and Cass Fendrick
+can&#8217;t fence the river off from Luck&#8217;s cows.
+Luck ain&#8217;t aiming to run any wagon over that
+road.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The Map of Texas man got up and stamped with
+delight. &#8220;I get you. We&#8217;ll learn Cass to take a
+joke, by gum. Luck sure gets a county road for
+his cows to amble over down to the water. Cass
+can have his darned old homestead now.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span></p>
+<p>When Fendrick heard that the commissioners
+had condemned a right of way for a road through
+his homestead he unloaded on the desert air a rich
+vocabulary. For here would have been a simple
+way out of his trouble if he had only thought of it.
+Instead of which he had melodramatically kidnapped
+his enemy and put himself within reach of
+the law and of Cullison&#8217;s vengeance.</p>
+<p>Nor did Luck confine his efforts to self-defense.
+He knew that to convict Fendrick of the robbery
+he must first lay hands upon Blackwell.</p>
+<p>It was, however, Bucky that caught the convict.
+The two men met at the top of a mountain pass.
+Blackwell, headed south, was slipping down toward
+Stone&#8217;s horse ranch when they came face to face.
+Before the bad man had his revolver out, he found
+himself looking down the barrel of the ranger&#8217;s
+leveled rifle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t,&#8221; Bucky murmured genially.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What you want me for?&#8221; Blackwell demanded
+sulkily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. robbery.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not the man you want. My name&#8217;s Johnson.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll put up with you till I find the man I do
+want, Mr. Johnson,&#8221; Bucky told him cheerfully.
+&#8220;Climb down from that horse. No, I wouldn&#8217;t try
+that. Keep your hands up.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span></p>
+<p>With his prisoner in front of him, O&#8217;Connor
+turned townward. They jogged down out of the
+hills through dark gulches and cactus-clad arroyos.
+The sharp catclaw caught at their legs. Tangled
+mesquite and ironwood made progress slow. They
+reached in time Apache Desert, and here Bucky
+camped. He hobbled his prisoner&#8217;s feet and put
+around his neck a rope, the other end of which was
+tied to his own waist. Then he built a small fire
+of greasewood and made coffee for them both. The
+prisoner slept, but his captor did not. For he could
+take no chances of an escape.</p>
+<p>The outlines of the mountain ranges loomed
+shadowy and dim on both sides. The moonlight
+played strange tricks with the mesquit and the giant
+cactus, a grove of which gave to the place an awesome
+aspect of some ghostly burial ground of a
+long vanished tribe.</p>
+<p>Next day they reached Saguache. Bucky took
+his prisoner straight to the ranger&#8217;s office and telephoned
+to Cullison.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t I get anything to eat?&#8221; growled the convict
+while they waited.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When I&#8217;m ready.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bucky believed in fair play. The man had not
+eaten since last night. But then neither had he. It
+happened that Bucky was tough as whipcord, as
+supple and untiring as a hickory sapling. Well,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span>
+Blackwell was a pretty hard nut to crack, too. The
+lieutenant did not know anything about book
+psychology, but he had observed that hunger and
+weariness try out the stuff that is in a man. Under
+the sag of them many a will snaps that would have
+held fast if sustained by a good dinner and a sound
+night&#8217;s sleep. This is why so many &#8220;bad men,&#8221;
+gun fighters with a reputation for gameness, wilt
+on occasion like whipped curs. In the old days
+this came to nearly every terror of the border.
+Some day when he had a jumping toothache, or
+when his nerves were frayed from a debauch, a
+silent stranger walked into his presence, looked
+long and steadily into his eyes, and ended forever
+his reign of lawlessness. Sometimes the two-gun
+man was &#8220;planted,&#8221; sometimes he subsided into
+innocuous peace henceforth.</p>
+<p>The ranger had a shrewd instinct that the hour
+had come to batter down this fellow&#8217;s dogged resistance.
+Therefore he sent for Cullison, the man
+whom the convict most feared.</p>
+<p>The very look of the cattleman, with that grim,
+hard, capable aspect, shook Blackwell&#8217;s nerve.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you&#8217;ve got him, Bucky.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck looked the man over as he sat handcuffed
+beside the table and read in his face both terror
+and a sly, dogged cunning. Once before the fellow
+had been put through the third degree. Something
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span>
+of the sort he fearfully expected now. Villainy
+is usually not consistent. This hulking bully
+should have been a hardy ruffian. Instead, he
+shrank like a schoolgirl from the thought of physical
+pain.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stand up,&#8221; ordered Cullison quietly.</p>
+<p>Blackwell got to his feet at once. He could not
+help it, even though the fear in his eyes showed
+that he cowered before the anticipated attack.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t hit me,&#8221; he whined.</p>
+<p>Luck knew the man sweated under the punishment
+his imagination called up, and he understood
+human nature too well to end the suspense by making
+real the vision. For then the worst would be
+past, since the actual is never equal to what is expected.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; Luck watched him with the look of
+tempered steel in his hard eyes.</p>
+<p>The convict flinched, moistened his lips with his
+tongue, and spoke at last.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I&mdash;Mr. Cullison, I want to explain. Every
+man is liable to make a mistake&mdash;go off half cocked.
+I didn&#8217;t do right. That&#8217;s a fac&#8217;. I can explain all
+that, but I&#8217;m sick now&mdash;awful sick.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cullison laughed harshly. &#8220;You&#8217;ll be sicker
+soon.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You promised you wouldn&#8217;t do anything if we
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span>
+turned you loose,&#8221; the man plucked up courage to
+remind him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I promised the law wouldn&#8217;t do anything.
+You&#8217;ll understand the distinction presently.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Cullison, please&mdash;&mdash; I admit I done
+wrong. I hadn&#8217;t ought to have gone in with Cass
+Fendrick. He wanted me to kill you, but I
+wouldn&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With that unwinking gaze the ranchman beat
+down his lies, while fear dripped in perspiration
+from the pallid face of the prisoner.</p>
+<p>Bucky had let Cullison take the center of the
+stage. He had observed a growing distress mount
+and ride the victim. Now he stepped in to save
+the man with an alternative at which Blackwell
+might be expected not to snatch eagerly perhaps,
+but at least to be driven toward.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This man is my prisoner, Mr. Cullison. From
+what I can make out you ought to strip his hide
+off and hang it up to dry. But I&#8217;ve got first call on
+him. If he comes through with the truth about the
+W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. Express robbery, I&#8217;ve got to protect him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck understood the ranger. They were both
+working toward the same end. The immediate
+punishment of this criminal was not the important
+issue. It was merely a club with which to beat him
+into submission, and at that a moral rather than a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span>
+physical one. But the owner of the Circle C knew
+better than to yield to Bucky too easily. He
+fought the point out with him at length, and finally
+yielded reluctantly, in such a way as to aggravate
+rather than relieve the anxiety of the convict.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. You take him first,&#8221; he finally conceded
+harshly.</p>
+<p>Bucky kept up the comedy. &#8220;I&#8217;ll take him, Mr.
+Cullison. But if he tells me the truth&mdash;and if I
+find out it&#8217;s the whole truth&mdash;there&#8217;ll be nothing
+doing on your part. He&#8217;s my prisoner. Understand
+that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Metaphorically, Blackwell licked the hand of his
+protector. He was still standing, but his attitude
+gave the effect of crouching.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I aim to do what&#8217;s right, Captain O&#8217;Connor.
+Whatever&#8217;s right. You ask me any questions.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want to know all about the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. robbery,
+everything, from start to finish.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Honest, I wish I could tell you. But I don&#8217;t
+know a thing about it. Cross my heart, I don&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No use, Blackwell. If I&#8217;m going to stand by
+you against Mr. Cullison, you&#8217;ll have to tell the
+truth. Why, man, I&#8217;ve even got the mask you
+wore and the cloth you cut it from.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I reckon it must a-been some one else, Major.
+Wisht I could help you, but I can&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bucky rose. &#8220;All right. If you can&#8217;t help me, I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span>
+can&#8217;t help you.&#8221; Apparently he dismissed the matter
+from his mind, for he looked at his watch and
+turned to the cattleman. &#8220;Mr. Cullison, I reckon
+I&#8217;ll run out and have some supper. Do you mind
+staying here with this man till I get back?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. That&#8217;s all right, Bucky. Don&#8217;t hurry,
+I&#8217;ll keep him entertained.&#8221; Perhaps it was not by
+chance that his eye wandered to a blacksnake whip
+hanging on the wall.</p>
+<p>O&#8217;Connor sauntered to the door. The frightened
+gaze of the prisoner clung to him as if for
+safety.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Major&mdash;Colonel&mdash;you ain&#8217;t a-going,&#8221; he
+pleaded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only for an hour or two. I&#8217;ll be back. I
+wouldn&#8217;t think of saying good-by&mdash;not till we
+reach Yuma.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With that the door closed behind him. Blackwell
+cried out, hurriedly, eagerly. &#8220;Mister O&#8217;Connor!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bucky&#8217;s head reappeared. &#8220;What! Have you
+reduced me to the ranks already? I was looking
+to be a general by the time I got back,&#8221; he complained
+whimsically.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I&#8217;ll tell you everything&mdash;every last thing.
+Mr. Cullison&mdash;he&#8217;s aiming to kill me soon as you&#8217;ve
+gone.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got no time to fool away, Blackwell. I&#8217;m
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span>
+hungry. If you mean business get to it. But remember
+that whatever you say will be used against
+you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll tell you any dog-goned thing you want to
+know. You&#8217;ve got me beat. I&#8217;m plumb wore out&mdash;sick.
+A man can&#8217;t stand everything.&#8221;</p>
+<p>O&#8217;Connor came in and closed the door. &#8220;Let&#8217;s
+have it, then&mdash;the whole story. I want it all: how
+you came to know about this shipment of money,
+how you pulled it off, what you have done with it,
+all the facts from beginning to the end.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lemme sit down, Captain. I&#8217;m awful done up.
+I reckon while I was in the hills I&#8217;ve been underfed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sit down. There&#8217;s a good dinner waiting for
+you at Clune&#8217;s when you get through.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Even then, though he must have known that
+lies could not avail, the man sprinkled his story
+with them. The residuum of truth that remained
+after these had been sifted out was something like
+this.</p>
+<p>He had found on the street a letter that had inadvertently
+been dropped. It was to Jordan of
+the Cattlemen&#8217;s National Bank, and it notified him
+that $20,000 was to be shipped to him by the W.
+&amp; S. Express Company on the night of the robbery.
+Blackwell resolved to have a try for it. He
+hung around the office until the manager and the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span>
+guard arrived from the train, made his raid upon
+them, locked the door, and threw away his mask.
+He dived with the satchel into the nearest alley,
+and came face to face with the stranger whom he
+later learned to be Fendrick. The whole story
+of the horse had been a myth later invented by the
+sheepman to scatter the pursuit by making it appear
+that the robber had come from a distance. As
+the street had been quite deserted at the time this
+detail could be plausibly introduced with no chance
+of a denial.</p>
+<p>Fendrick, who had heard the shouting of the
+men locked in the express office, stopped the robber,
+but Blackwell broke away and ran down the
+alley. The sheepman followed and caught him.
+After another scuffle the convict again hammered
+himself free, but left behind the hand satchel containing
+the spoils. Fendrick (so he later explained
+to Blackwell) tied a cord to the handle of
+the bag and dropped it down the chute of a laundry
+in such a way that it could later be drawn up. Then
+he hurried back to the express office and released
+the prisoners. After the excitement had subsided,
+he had returned for the money and hid it. The
+original robber did not know where.</p>
+<p>Blackwell&#8217;s second meeting with the sheepman
+had been almost as startling as the first. Cass had
+run into the Jack of Hearts in time to save the life
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span>
+of his enemy. The two men recognized each other
+and entered into a compact to abduct Cullison, for
+his share in which the older man was paid one thousand
+dollars. The Mexican Dominguez had later
+appeared on the scene, had helped guard the owner
+of the Circle C, and had assisted in taking him to
+the hut in the Rincons where he had been secreted.</p>
+<p>Both men asked the same question as soon as he
+had finished.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is the money you got from the raid on
+the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. office?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t know. I&#8217;ve been at Fendrick ever since
+to tell me. He&#8217;s got it salted somewhere. You&#8217;re
+fixing to put me behind the bars, and he&#8217;s the man
+that really stole it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>From this they could not shake him. He stuck
+to it vindictively, for plainly his malice against the
+sheepman was great. The latter had spoiled his
+coup, robbed him of its fruits, and now was letting
+him go to prison.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I reckon we&#8217;d better have a talk with Cass,&#8221;
+Bucky suggested in a low voice to the former
+sheriff.</p>
+<p>Luck laughed significantly. &#8220;When we find
+him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>For the sheepman had got out on bail the morning
+after his arrest.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll find him easily enough. And I rather
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span>
+think he&#8217;ll have a good explanation, even if this
+fellow&#8217;s story is true.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, he&#8217;ll be loaded with explanations. I don&#8217;t
+doubt that for a minute. But it will take a hell of
+a lot of talk to get away from the facts. I&#8217;ve got
+him where I want him now, and by God! I&#8217;ll make
+him squeal before the finish.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well, you&#8217;re prejudiced,&#8221; Bucky told him
+with an amiable smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Course I am; prejudiced as old Wall-eyed
+Rogers was against the vigilantes for hanging him
+on account of horse stealing. But I&#8217;ll back my
+prejudices all the same. We&#8217;ll see I&#8217;m right,
+Bucky.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XV_BOB_TAKES_A_HAND' id='XV_BOB_TAKES_A_HAND'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+<h3>BOB TAKES A HAND</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Fendrick, riding on Mesa Verde, met Bob Cullison,
+and before he knew what had happened found
+a gun thrown on him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you move,&#8221; the boy warned.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What does this tommyrot mean?&#8221; the sheepman
+demanded angrily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It means that you are coming back with me to
+the ranch. That&#8217;s what it means.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What for?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never you mind what for.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, go to Mexico,&#8221; Cass flung back impatiently.
+&#8220;Think we&#8217;re in some fool moving-picture play,
+you blamed young idiot. Put up that gun.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Shrilly Bob retorted. He was excited enough
+to be dangerous. &#8220;Don&#8217;t you get the wrong idea.
+I&#8217;m going to make this stick. You&#8217;ll turn and go
+back with me to the Circle C.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you&#8217;ll travel to Yuma first thing you
+know, you young Jesse James. What <i>you</i> need is a
+pair of leather chaps applied to your hide.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll go home with me, just the same.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve got one more guess coming, kid. I&#8217;ll
+not go without knowing why.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re wanted for the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. Express robbery.
+Blackwell has confessed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Confessed that I did it?&#8221; Fendrick inquired
+scornfully.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Says you were in it with him. I ain&#8217;t a-going
+to discuss it with you. Swing that horse round;
+and don&#8217;t make any breaks, or there&#8217;ll be mourning
+at the C.&nbsp;F. ranch.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cass sat immovable as the sphinx. He was thinking
+that he might as well face the charge now as
+any time. Moreover, he had reasons for wanting to
+visit the Circle C. They had to do with a tall, slim
+girl who never looked at him without scorn in her
+dark, flashing eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. I&#8217;ll go back with you, but not under
+a gun.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll go the way I say.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t think it. I&#8217;ve said I&#8217;ll go. That settles
+it. But I won&#8217;t stand for any gun-play capture.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll have to stand for it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick&#8217;s face set. &#8220;Will I? It&#8217;s up to you,
+then. Let&#8217;s see you make me.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Sitting there with his gaze steadily on the boy,
+Cass had Bob at a disadvantage. If the sheep
+owner had tried to break away into the chaparral.
+Bob could have blazed away at him, but he could
+not shoot a man looking at him with cynical,
+amused eyes. He could understand the point of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span>
+view of his adversary. If Fendrick rode into the
+Circle C under compulsion of a gun in the hands of
+a boy he would never hear the end of the laugh on
+him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You won&#8217;t try to light out, will you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got no notion of lighting out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Bob put up his big blue gun reluctantly. Never
+before had it been trained on a human being, and
+it was a wrench to give up the thought of bringing
+in the enemy as a prisoner. But he saw he could
+not pull it off. Fendrick had declined to scare, had
+practically laughed him out of it. The boy had not
+meant his command as a bluff, but Cass knew him
+better than he did himself.</p>
+<p>They turned toward the Circle C.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Must have been taking lessons on how to bend a
+gun. You in training for sheriff, or are you going
+to take Bucky&#8217;s place with the rangers?&#8221; Fendrick
+asked with casual impudence, malicious amusement
+gleaming from his lazy eyes.</p>
+<p>Bob, very red about the ears, took refuge in a
+sulky silence. He was being guyed, and not by
+an inch did he propose to compromise the Cullison
+dignity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;From the way you go at it, I figure you an old
+hand at the hold-up game. Wonder if you didn&#8217;t
+pull off the W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. raid yourself.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span></p>
+<p>Bob writhed impotently. At this sort of thing
+he was no match for the other. Fendrick, now in
+the best of humors, planted lazily his offhand barbs.</p>
+<p>Kate was seated on the porch sewing. She rose
+in surprise when her cousin and the sheepman appeared.
+They came with jingling spurs across the
+plaza toward her. Bob was red as a turkeycock,
+but Fendrick wore his most devil-may-care insouciance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;s Uncle Luck, sis? I&#8217;ve brought this fellow
+back with me. Caught him on the mesa,&#8221; explained
+the boy sulkily.</p>
+<p>Fendrick bowed rather extravagantly and flashed
+at the girl a smiling double-row of strong white
+teeth. &#8220;He&#8217;s qualifying for a moving-picture show
+actor, Miss Cullison. I hadn&#8217;t the heart to disappoint
+him when he got that cannon trained on me.
+So here I am.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate looked at him and then let her gaze travel
+to her cousin. She somehow gave the effect of
+judging him of negligible value.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think he&#8217;s in his office, Bob. I&#8217;ll go see.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She went swiftly, and presently her father came
+out. Kate did not return.</p>
+<p>Luck looked straight at Cass with the uncompromising
+hostility so characteristic of him. Neither
+of the men spoke. It was Bob who made the necessary
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span>
+explanations. The sheepman heard them
+with a polite derision that suggested an impersonal
+amusement at the situation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been looking for you,&#8221; Luck said bluntly,
+after his nephew had finished.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So I gathered from young Jesse James. He intimated
+it over the long blue barrel of his cannon.
+Anything particular, or just a pleasant social call?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re in bad on this W.&nbsp;&amp;&nbsp;S. robbery. I reckoned
+you would be safer in jail till it&#8217;s cleared up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You still sheriff, Mr. Cullison? Somehow I
+had got a notion you had quit the job.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m an interested party. There&#8217;s new evidence,
+not manufactured, either.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, well!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll take the stage into town and see what
+O&#8217;Connor says&mdash;that is, if you&#8217;ve got time to go.&#8221;
+Luck could be as formal in his sarcasm as his neighbor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;With such good company on the way I&#8217;ll have
+to make time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The stage did not usually leave till about half
+past one. Presently Kate announced dinner. A
+little awkwardly Luck invited the sheepman to join
+them. Fendrick declined. He was a Fletcherite,
+he informed Cullison ironically, and was in the
+habit of missing meals occasionally. This would
+be one of the times.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span></p>
+<p>His host hung in the doorway. Seldom at a loss
+to express himself, he did not quite know how to
+put into words what he was thinking. His enemy
+understood.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all right. You&#8217;ve satisfied the demands
+of hospitality. Go eat your dinner. I&#8217;ll be right
+here on the porch when you get through.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate, who was standing beside her father, spoke
+quietly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a place for you, Mr. Fendrick. We
+should be very pleased to have you join us. People
+who happen to be at the Circle C at dinner time
+are expected to eat here.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come and eat, man. You&#8217;ll be under no obligations.
+I reckon you can hate us, just as thorough
+after a square meal as before. Besides, I was
+your guest for several days.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick looked at the young mistress of the
+ranch. He meant to decline once more, but unaccountably
+found himself accepting instead. Something
+in her face told him she would rather have
+it so.</p>
+<p>Wherefore Cass found himself with his feet under
+the table of his foe discussing various topics
+that had nothing to do with sheep, homestead
+claims, abductions, or express robberies. He looked
+at Kate but rarely, yet he was aware of her all
+the time. At his ranch a Mexican did the cooking
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span>
+in haphazard fashion. The food was ill prepared
+and worse served. He ate only because it was a
+necessity, and he made as short a business of it
+as he could. Here were cut roses on a snowy tablecloth,
+an air of leisure that implied the object of
+dinner to be something more than to devour a given
+quantity of food. Moreover, the food had a flavor
+that made it palatable. The rib roast was done to
+a turn, the mashed potatoes whipped to a flaky
+lightness. The vegetable salad was a triumph, and
+the rice custard melted in his mouth.</p>
+<p>Presently a young man came into the dining
+room and sat down beside Kate. He looked the
+least in the world surprised at sight of the sheepman.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mornin&#8217;, Cass,&#8221; he nodded</p>
+<p>&#8220;Morning, Curly,&#8221; answered Fendrick. &#8220;Didn&#8217;t
+know you were riding for the Circle C.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s my foreman,&#8221; Luck explained.</p>
+<p>Cass observed that he was quite one of the family.
+Bob admired him openly and without shame,
+because he was the best rider in Arizona; Kate
+seemed to be on the best of terms with him, and
+Luck treated him with the offhand bluffness he
+might have used toward a grown son.</p>
+<p>If Cass had, in his bitter, sardonic fashion, been
+interested in Kate before he sat down, the feeling
+had quickened to something different before he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span>
+rose. It was not only that she was competent to
+devise such a meal in the desert. There was something
+else. She had made a <i>home</i> for her father
+and cousin at the Circle C. The place radiated
+love, domesticity, kindly good fellowship. The
+casual give and take of the friendly talk went
+straight to the heart of the sheepman. This was
+living. It came to him poignantly that in his scramble
+for wealth he had missed that which was of
+far greater importance.</p>
+<p>The stage brought the two men to town shortly
+after sundown. Luck called up O&#8217;Connor, and
+made an appointment to meet him after supper.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Back again, Bucky,&#8221; Fendrick grinned at sight
+of the ranger. &#8220;I hear I&#8217;m suspected of being a bad
+hold-up.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a matter that needs explaining, Cass.
+According to Blackwell&#8217;s story, you caught him
+with the goods at the time of the robbery, and in
+making his getaway he left the loot with you.
+What have you done with it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Blackwell told you that, did he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t doubt your word for a moment, Bucky,
+but before I do any talking I&#8217;d like to hear him
+say so. I&#8217;ll not round on him until I know he&#8217;s
+given himself away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The convict was sent for. He substantiated the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span>
+ranger reluctantly. He was so hemmed in that he
+did not know how to play his cards so as to make
+the most of them. He hated Fendrick. But much
+as he desired to convict him, he could not escape
+an uneasy feeling that he was going to be made the
+victim. For Cass took it with that sarcastic smile
+of his that mocked them all in turn. The convict
+trusted none of them. Already he felt the penitentiary
+walls closing on him. He was like a trapped
+coyote, ready to snarl and bite at the first hand he
+could reach. Just now this happened to belong to
+Fendrick, who had cheated him out of the money he
+had stolen and had brought this upon him.</p>
+<p>Cass heard him out with a lifted upper lip and
+his most somnolent tiger-cat expression. After
+Blackwell had finished and been withdrawn from
+circulation he rolled and lit a cigarette.</p>
+<p>&#8220;By Mr. Blackwell&#8217;s say-so I&#8217;m the goat. By the
+way, has it ever occurred to you gentlemen that
+one can&#8217;t be convicted on the testimony of a single
+accomplice?&#8221; He asked it casually, his chair tipped
+back, smoke wreaths drifting lazily ceilingward.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve got a little circumstantial evidence to
+add, Cass.&#8221; Bucky suggested pleasantly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not enough&mdash;not nearly enough.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That will be for a jury to decide,&#8221; Cullison
+chipped in.</p>
+<p>Fendrick shrugged. &#8220;I&#8217;ve a notion to let it go to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span>
+that. But what&#8217;s the use? Understand this. I
+wasn&#8217;t going to give Blackwell away, but since he
+has talked, I may tell what I know. It&#8217;s true
+enough what he says. I did relieve him of the
+plunder.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sorry to hear that, Cass,&#8221; Bucky commented
+gravely. &#8220;What did you do with it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The sheep owner flicked his cigarette ash into the
+tray, and looked at the lieutenant out of half-shuttered,
+indolent eyes. &#8220;Gave it to you, Bucky.&#8221;</p>
+<p>O&#8217;Connor sat up. His blue Irish eyes were dancing.
+&#8220;You&#8217;re a cool customer, Cass.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fact, just the same. Got that letter I handed
+you the other day?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The officer produced it from his safe.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Open it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>With a paper knife Bucky ripped the flap and
+took out a sheet of paper.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s something else in there,&#8221; Fendrick suggested.</p>
+<p>The something else proved to be a piece of paper
+folded tightly, which being opened disclosed a key.</p>
+<p>O&#8217;Connor read aloud the letter:</p>
+<div class='blockquot'>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>To Nicholas Bolt, Sheriff, Or Bucky
+O&#8217;connor, Lieutenant of Rangers</span>:</p>
+<p>Having come into possession of a little
+valise which is not mine, I am getting rid
+of it in the following manner. I have
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span>
+rented a large safety-deposit box at the
+Cattlemen&#8217;s National Bank, and have put
+into it the valise with the lock still unbroken.
+The key is inclosed herewith.
+Shaw, the cashier, will tell you that when
+this box was rented I gave explicit orders
+it should be opened only by the men
+whose names are given in an envelope left
+with him, not even excepting myself.
+The valise was deposited at exactly 10:30
+A. M. the morning after the robbery, as
+Mr. Shaw will also testify. I am writing
+this the evening of the same day.</p>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Cass Fendrick</span>.</p>
+</div>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t believe a word of it,&#8221; Cullison exploded.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Seeing is believing,&#8221; the sheepman murmured.
+He was enjoying greatly the discomfiture of his
+foe.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Makes a likely fairy tale. What for would you
+keep the money and not turn it back?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s an easy one, Luck. He wanted to throw
+the burden of the robbery on you,&#8221; Bucky explained.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;ve got to be shown.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In the morning he was shown. Shaw confirmed
+exactly what Fendrick had said. He produced a
+sealed envelope. Within this was a sheet of paper,
+upon which were written two lines.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span></p>
+<div class='blockquot'>
+<p>Box 2143 is to be opened only by Sheriff
+Bolt or Lieutenant Bucky O&#8217;Connor of
+the Rangers, and before witnesses.</p>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Cass Fendrick</span>.</p>
+</div>
+<p>From the safety-deposit vault Bucky drew a
+large package wrapped in yellow paper. He cut the
+string, tore away the covering, and disclosed a
+leather satchel. Perry Hawley, the local manager
+of the Western &amp; Southern Express Company, fitted
+to this a key and took out a sealed bundle. This
+he ripped open before them all. Inside was found
+the sum of twenty thousand dollars in crisp new
+bills.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVI_A_CLEAN_UP' id='XVI_A_CLEAN_UP'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+<h3>A CLEAN UP</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>A slight accident occurred at the jail, one so
+unimportant that Scanlan the jailer did not think
+it worth reporting to his chief. Blackwell, while
+eating, knocked a glass from the table and broke
+it on the cement floor of his cell. There is a legend
+to the effect that for want of a nail a battle was
+lost. By reason of a bit of glass secreted in his
+bed something quite as important happened to the
+convict.</p>
+<p>From the little table in his room he pried loose
+one of the corner braces. At night he scraped away
+at this with his bit of glass until the wood began to
+take the shape of a revolver. This he carefully
+blacked with the ink brought him by his guard. To
+the end of his weapon he fitted an iron washer taken
+from the bedstead. Then he waited for his opportunity.</p>
+<p>His chance came through the good nature of
+Scanlan. The jailer was in the habit of going
+down town to loaf for an hour or two with old
+cronies after he had locked up for the night. Blackwell
+pretended to be out of chewing tobacco and
+asked the guard to buy him some. About ten
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span>
+o&#8217;clock Scanlan returned and brought the tobacco
+to his prisoner. The moon was shining brightly,
+and he did not bring a lantern with him. As he
+passed the plug through the grating Blackwell&#8217;s
+fingers closed around his wrist and drew the man
+close to the iron lattice work. Simultaneously a
+cold rim was pressed against the temple of the
+guard.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t move, or I&#8217;ll fill you full of holes,&#8221; the
+convict warned.</p>
+<p>Scanlan did not move, not until the man in the
+cell gave the word. Then he obeyed orders to the
+letter. His right hand found the bunch of keys,
+fitted the correct one to the door, and unlocked it
+according to instructions. Not until he was relieved
+of his weapon did Blackwell release him. The
+jailer was backed into the cell, gagged with a piece
+of torn bedding, and left locked up as securely as
+the other had been a few minutes earlier.</p>
+<p>The convict made his way downstairs, opened the
+outer door with the bunch of keys he had taken from
+Scanlan, locked it behind him, and slipped into the
+first alley that offered refuge. By way of the
+Mexican quarters he reached the suburbs and open
+country. Two hours later he stole a horse from
+an irrigated ranch near town. Within twenty-four
+hours he had reached the Soapy Stone horse ranch
+and safety.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span></p>
+<p>After this the plans for the raid on the Texas,
+Arizona &amp; Pacific Flyer moved swiftly to a head.
+Soapy Stone and Sam dropped into Saguache inconspicuously
+one evening. Next day Stone rode
+down to Tin Cup to look over the ground. Maloney
+telephoned their movements to the Circle C and
+to the Hashknife. This brought to Saguache Luck
+Cullison, Curly Flandrau, and Slats Davis. Bucky
+O&#8217;Connor had been called to Douglas on important
+business and could not lend his help.</p>
+<p>Curly met Sam in front of Chalkeye&#8217;s Place.
+They did the town together in a mild fashion and
+Flandrau proposed that they save money by taking
+a common room. To this young Cullison agreed.</p>
+<p>Luck, Curly and Dick Maloney had already ridden
+over the country surrounding the scene of the projected
+hold-up. They had decided that the robbery
+would probably take place at the depot, so that the
+outlaws could get the agent to stop the Flyer without
+arousing suspicion. In a pocket of the hills
+back of the station a camp had been selected, its
+site well back from any trail and so situated that
+from it one could command a view of Tin Cup.</p>
+<p>The owner of the Circle C selected three of his
+closemouthed riders&mdash;Sweeney, Jake and Buck were
+the ones he chose&mdash;to hold the camp with him until
+after the robbery. The only signal they needed was
+the stopping of the Flyer at Tin Cup. Then they
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span>
+would come pounding down from the hills in time
+to catch the robbers before they had got through
+with their work. Maloney or Curly would be on
+the train to take a hand in the battle. Caught by
+surprise, Soapy&#8217;s gang would surely be trapped.</p>
+<p>So they planned it, but it happened that Soapy
+Stone had made his arrangements differently.</p>
+<p>Luck and his riders took their blankets and their
+traps down to Tin Cup according to agreement,
+while Davis, Maloney and Flandrau looked after
+the Saguache end of the business. All of them
+were very friendly with Sam. The boy, younger
+than any of them, was flattered that three of the
+best known riders in the territory should make so
+much of him. Moreover, Stone had given him
+instructions to mix with Curly&#8217;s crowd as much as
+he could. He had given as a reason that it would
+divert suspicion, but what he really wanted was
+to throw the blame of the hold-up on these friends
+after Sam was found dead on the scene.</p>
+<p>Young Cullison had stopped drinking, but he
+could not keep his nerves from jumping. His companions
+pretended not to notice how worried he
+was, but they watched him so closely that he was
+never out of the sight of at least one of them.
+Soapy had decreed the boy&#8217;s death by treachery,
+but his friends were determined to save him and to
+end forever the reign of Stone as a bad man.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span></p>
+<p>It was one day when the four young cowpunchers
+were sitting together in Curly&#8217;s room playing poker
+that a special delivery letter came to Sam. The
+others, to cover their excitement, started an argument
+as to whether five aces (they were playing
+with the joker) beat a straight flush. Presently
+Sam spoke, as indifferently as he could.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Got the offer of a job down the line. Think
+I&#8217;ll run down to-night far as Casa Grande and see
+what&#8217;s doing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If they need any extra riders here&#8217;s some more
+out of a job,&#8221; Dick told him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Heard to-day of a freighter that wants a mule-skinner.
+I&#8217;m going to see him to-morrow,&#8221; Slats
+chipped in.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Darn this looking for a job anyhow. It&#8217;s tur&#8217;ble
+slow work,&#8221; Curly followed up, yawning. &#8220;Well,
+here&#8217;s hoping you land yours, Sam.&#8221;</p>
+<p>This was about two o&#8217;clock in the afternoon. The
+game dragged on for a while, but nobody took any
+interest in it. Sam had to get ready for the work
+of the night, and the rest were anxious to get out
+and give him a chance. So presently Dick threw
+down his cards.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve had enough poker for one session. Me,
+I&#8217;m going to drift out and see what&#8217;s moving in
+town.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Think I&#8217;ll snooze for a while,&#8221; Sam said, stretching
+sleepily.</p>
+<p>The others trooped out and left him alone. From
+the room rented by Davis the three watched to see
+that Sam did not leave without being observed. He
+did not appear, and about six o&#8217;clock Curly went
+back to his room.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Time to grub,&#8221; he sang out.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s right,&#8221; Sam agreed.</p>
+<p>They went to the New Orleans Hash House,
+and presently Davis and Maloney also arrived. The
+party ordered a good dinner and took plenty of
+time to eat it. Sam was obviously nervous, but
+eager to cover his uneasiness under a show of good
+spirits.</p>
+<p>Curly finished eating just as Sam&#8217;s second cup
+of coffee came. Flandrau, who had purposely
+chosen a seat in the corner where he was hemmed
+in by the chairs of the others, began to feel in his
+vest pockets.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Darned if I&#8217;ve got a cigar. Sam, you&#8217;re young
+and nimble. Go buy me one at the counter.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure.&#8221; Cullison was away on the instant.</p>
+<p>Curly&#8217;s hand came out of his pocket. In it was
+a paper. Quickly he shook the contents of the
+paper into the steaming cup of coffee and stirred
+the liquid with a spoon.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span></p>
+<p>Sam brought back the cigar and drank his coffee.
+Without any unnecessary delay they returned to
+his room. Before the party had climbed the stairs
+the boy was getting drowsy.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dunno what&#8217;s the matter with me. I&#8217;m feeling
+awful sleepy,&#8221; he said, sitting on the bed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you take a snooze? You&#8217;ve got lots
+of time before the train goes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I don&#8217;t reckon I better.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and slumped down.
+His lids wavered, shut, jerked open again, and
+closed slowly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wake me, Curly&mdash;time for train.&#8221; And with
+that he was sound asleep.</p>
+<p>They took off his boots and settled him comfortably.
+In his pocket they found a black mask
+big enough to cover his whole face. The registered
+letter could not be found and they decided he must
+have destroyed it.</p>
+<p>The sight of the mask had given Curly an idea.
+He was of about the same build as Sam. Why
+not go in his place? It would be worth doing just
+to catch sight of Soapy&#8217;s face when he took the
+mask off after the robbers had been captured.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the use?&#8221; Davis protested. &#8220;It&#8217;s an unnecessary
+risk. They might shoot you in place of
+Sam.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll look out for myself. Don&#8217;t worry about
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span>
+that. Before the time for getting rid of Sam comes
+Mr. Soapy and his bunch will be prisoners.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They argued it out, but Curly was set and could
+not be moved. He dressed in young Cullison&#8217;s
+clothes and with Maloney took the express at 9:57.
+Davis remained to guard Sam.</p>
+<p>Curly&#8217;s watch showed 10:17 when the wheels
+began to grind from the setting of the air brakes.
+He was in the last sleeper, Dick in the day coach
+near the front. They had agreed that Dick was
+to drop off as soon as the train slowed down enough
+to make it safe, whereas Curly would go on and
+play Sam&#8217;s part until the proper time.</p>
+<p>The train almost slid to a halt from the pressure
+of the hard-jammed brakes. A volley of shots rang
+out. Curly slipped the mask over his face and
+rose with a revolver in each hand. He had been
+sitting at the end of the car, so that nobody noticed
+him until his voice rang out with a crisp order.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hands up! Don&#8217;t anybody move!&#8221;</p>
+<p>An earthquake shock could not have alarmed the
+passengers more. The color was washed completely
+from the faces of most of them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Reach for the roof. Come, punch a hole in the
+sky!&#8221; To do it thoroughly, Curly flung a couple
+of shots through the ceiling. That was enough.
+Hands went up without any argument, most of them
+quivering as from an Arkansas chill.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span></p>
+<p>Presently Cranston herded the passengers in from
+the forward coaches. With them were most of the
+train crew. The front door of the car was locked
+so that they could not easily get out.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re cutting off the express car and going
+forward to &#8217;Dobe Wells with it. There we can
+blow open the safe uninterrupted,&#8221; Bad Bill explained.
+&#8220;You ride herd on the passengers here
+from the outside till you hear two shots, then hump
+yourself forward and hop on the express car.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fine! Curly was to stand out there in the moonlight
+and let anybody in the car that had the nerve
+pepper away at him. If they did not attend to
+the job of riddling him, his false friends would do
+it while he was running forward to get aboard.
+Nothing could have been simpler&mdash;if he had not
+happened to have had inside information of their
+intent.</p>
+<p>He had to think quickly, for the plans of him
+and his friends had been deranged. They had
+reckoned on the express car being rifled on the spot.
+This would have given Cullison time to reach the
+scene of action. Mow they would be too late. Maloney,
+lying snugly in the bear grass beside the
+track, would not be informed as to the arrangement.
+Unless Curly could stop it, the hold-up
+would go through according to the program of
+Soapy and not of his enemies.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span></p>
+<p>The decision of Flamdrau was instantaneous. He
+slid down beside the track into the long grass.
+Whipping up one of his guns, he fired. As if
+in answer to the first shot his revolver cracked
+twice. Simultaneously, he let out a cry of pain,
+wriggled back for a dozen yards through the
+grass, and crossed the track in the darkness. As
+he crouched down close to the wheels of the
+sleeper someone came running back on the other
+side.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s up, Sam? You hit?&#8221; he could hear
+Blackwell whisper.</p>
+<p>No answer came. The paroled convict was standing
+close to the car for fear of being hit himself
+and he dared not move forward into the grass to
+investigate.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sam,&#8221; he called again; then, &#8220;He&#8217;s sure got
+his.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That was all Curly wanted to know. Softly he
+padded forward, keeping as low as he could till he
+reached the empty sleepers. A brakeman was just
+uncoupling the express car when Curly dived underneath
+and nestled close to the trucks.</p>
+<p>From where he lay he could almost have reached
+out and touched Soapy standing by the car.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What about the kid?&#8221; Stone asked Blackwell
+as the latter came up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They got him. Didn&#8217;t you hear him yelp?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but did they put him out of business?
+See his body?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Blackwell had no intention of going back into
+the fire zone and making sure. For his part he was
+satisfied. So he lied.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yep. Blew the top of his head off.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good,&#8221; Soapy nodded. &#8220;That&#8217;s a receipt in
+full for Mr. Luck Cullison.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The wheels began to move. Soon they were
+hitting only the high spots. Curly guessed they
+must be doing close to sixty miles an hour. Down
+where he was the dust was flying so thickly he
+could scarce breathe, as it usually does on an Arizona
+track in the middle of summer.</p>
+<p>Before many minutes the engine began to slow
+down. The wheels had hardly stopped moving when
+Curly crept out, plowed through the sand, up the
+rubble of a little hill, and into a draw where a
+bunch of scrub oaks offered cover.</p>
+<p>A voice from in front called to him. Just then
+the moon appeared from behind drifting clouds.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, it&#8217;s you, Sam. Everything all right?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Right as the wheat. We&#8217;re blowing open the
+safe now,&#8221; Flandrau answered.</p>
+<p>Moving closer, he saw that his questioner was
+the man in charge of the horses. Though he knew
+the voice, he could not put a name to its owner.
+But this was not the point that first occupied his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span>
+mind. <i>There were only four horses for five riders.</i>
+Curly knew now that he had not been mistaken.
+Soapy had expected one of his allies to stay on the
+field of battle, had prepared for it from the beginning.
+The knowledge of this froze any remorse
+the young <i>vaquero</i> might have felt.</p>
+<p>He pushed his revolver against the teeth of the
+horse wrangler.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t move, you bandy-legged maverick, or I&#8217;ll
+fill your hide full of holes. And if you want to
+keep on living padlock that mouth of yours.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In spite of his surprise the man caught the point
+at once. He turned over his weapons without a
+word.</p>
+<p>Curly unwound a rope from one of the saddles
+and dropped a loop round the neck of his prisoner.
+The two men mounted and rode out of the draw,
+the outlaw leading the other two horses. As soon
+as they reached the bluff above Flandrau outlined
+the next step in the program.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll stay here in the <i>tornilla</i> and see what
+happens, my friend. Unless you&#8217;ve a fancy to get
+lead poisoning keep still.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who in Mexico are you?&#8221; the captured man
+asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s your showdown. Skin off that mask.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The man hesitated. His own revolver moved a
+few inches toward his head. Hastily he took off
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span>
+the mask. The moon shone on the face of the man
+called Dutch. Flandrau laughed. Last time they
+had met Curly had a rope around his neck. Now
+the situation was reversed.</p>
+<p>An explosion below told them that the robbers
+had blown open the safe. Presently Soapy&#8217;s voice
+came faintly to them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bring up the horses.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He called again, and a third time. The dwarfed
+figures of the outlaws stood out clear in the moonlight.
+One of them ran up the track toward the
+draw. He disappeared into the scrub oaks, from
+whence his alarmed voice came in a minute.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dutch! Oh, Dutch!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The revolver rim pressed a little harder against
+the bridge of the horse wrangler&#8217;s nose.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He ain&#8217;t here,&#8221; Blackwell called back to his
+accomplices.</p>
+<p>That brought Stone on the run. &#8220;You condemned
+idiot, he <i>must</i> be there. Ain&#8217;t he had two
+hours to get here since he left Tin Cup?&#8221;</p>
+<p>They shouted themselves hoarse. They wandered
+up and down in a vain search. All the time Curly
+and his prisoner sat in the brush and scarcely batted
+an eye.</p>
+<p>At last Soapy gave up the hunt. The engine
+and the express car were sent back to join the rest
+of the train and as soon as they were out of sight
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span>
+the robbers set out across country toward the Flatiron
+ranch.</p>
+<p>Curly guessed their intentions. They would rustle
+horses there and head for the border. It was the
+only chance still left them.</p>
+<p>After they had gone Curly and his prisoner returned
+to the road and set out toward Tin Cup.
+About a mile and a half up the line they met Cullison
+and his riders on the way down. Maloney was
+with them. He had been picked up at the station.</p>
+<p>Dick gave a shout of joy when he heard Flandrau&#8217;s
+voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you Curly! I&#8217;ve been scared stiff for fear
+they&#8217;d got you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck caught the boy&#8217;s hand and wrung it hard.
+&#8220;You plucky young idiot, you&#8217;ve got sand in your
+craw. What the deuce did you do it for?&#8221;</p>
+<p>They held a conference while the Circle C riders
+handcuffed Dutch and tied him to a horse. Soon
+the posse was off again, having left the prisoner
+in charge of one of the men. They swung round
+in a wide half circle, not wishing to startle their
+game until the proper time. The horses pounded
+up hills, slid into washes, and plowed through sand
+on a Spanish trot, sometimes in the moonlight,
+more often in darkness. The going was rough,
+but they could not afford to slacken speed.</p>
+<p>When they reached the edge of the mesa that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span>
+looked down on the Flatiron the moon was out and
+the valley was swimming in light. They followed
+the dip of a road that led down to the corral. Passing
+the fenced lane leading to the stable, they tied
+their ponies inside and took the places assigned to
+them by Cullison.</p>
+<p>They had not long to wait. In less than half an
+hour three shadowy figures slipped round the edge
+of the corral and up the lane. Each of them carried
+a rifle in addition to his hip guns.</p>
+<p>They slid into the open end of the stable. Cullison&#8217;s
+voice rang out coldly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Drop your guns!&#8221;</p>
+<p>A startled oath, a shot, and before one could have
+lifted a hand that silent moonlit valley of peace had
+become a battlefield.</p>
+<p>The outlaws fell back from the stable, weapons
+smoking furiously. Blackwell broke into a run,
+never looking behind him, but Soapy and Bad Bill
+gave back foot by foot fighting every step of the
+way.</p>
+<p>Dick and Curly rose from behind the rocks where
+they had been placed and closed the trap on Blackwell.
+The paroled convict let out one yell.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I give up. Goddlemighty, don&#8217;t shoot!&#8221;</p>
+<p>His rifle he had already thrown away. With his
+arms reaching above him, his terror-stricken eyes
+popping from his head, he was a picture of the most
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span>
+frightened &#8220;bad man&#8221; who had ever done business
+in Arizona.</p>
+<p>Half way down the lane Cranston was hit. He
+sank to his knees, and from there lopped over sideways
+to his left elbow. In the darkness his voice
+could be heard, for the firing had momentarily
+ceased.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ve got me, Soapy. Run for it. I&#8217;ll hold
+&#8217;em back.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hit bad, Bill?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m all in. <i>Vamos!</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>Stone turned to run, and for the first time saw
+that his retreat was cut off. As fast as he could
+pump the lever his rifle began working again.</p>
+<p>The firing this time did not last more than five
+seconds. When the smoke cleared it was all over.
+Soapy lay on his back, shot through and through.
+Blackwell had taken advantage of the diversion to
+crawl through the strands of barbed wire and to
+disappear in the chaparral. Bill had rolled over on
+his face.</p>
+<p>Curly crept through the fence after the escaping
+man, but in that heavy undergrowth he knew it
+was like looking for a needle in a haystack. After
+a time he gave it up and returned to the field of
+battle.</p>
+<p>Dick was bending over Stone. He looked up at
+the approach of his friend and said just one word.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Dead.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cullison had torn open Cranston&#8217;s shirt and was
+examining his wounds.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No use, Luck. I&#8217;ve got a-plenty. You sure
+fooled us thorough. Was it Sam gave us away?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Bill. Curly overheard Soapy and Blackwell
+at Chalkeye&#8217;s Place. Sam stood pat, though you
+were planning to murder him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wasn&#8217;t in on that, Luck&mdash;didn&#8217;t know a thing
+about it till after the boy was shot. I wouldn&#8217;t
+a-stood for it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He wasn&#8217;t shot. Curly saved him. He had to
+give you away to do it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good enough. Serves Soapy right for double
+crossing Sam. Take care of that kid, Luck. He&#8217;s
+all right yet.&#8221; His eye fell on Flandrau. &#8220;You&#8217;re
+a game sport, son. You beat us all. No hard
+feelings.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sorry it had to be this way, Bill.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The dying man was already gray to the lips, but
+his nerve did not falter. &#8220;It had to come some
+time. And it was Luck ought to have done it too.&#8221;
+He waved aside Sweeney, who was holding a flask
+to his lips. &#8220;What&#8217;s the use? I&#8217;ve got mine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shall we take him to the house?&#8221; Maloney
+asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. I&#8217;ll die in the open. Say, there&#8217;s something
+else, boys. Curly has been accused of that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span>
+Bar Double M horse rustling back in the early summer.
+I did that job. He was not one of us. You
+hear, boys. Curly was not in it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A quarter of an hour later he died. He had lied
+to save from the penitentiary the lad who had
+brought about his death. Curly knew why he had
+done it&mdash;because he felt himself to blame for the
+affair. Maybe Bad Bill had been a desperado, a
+miscreant according to the usual standard, but when
+it came to dying he knew how to go better than
+many a respectable citizen. Curly stole off into the
+darkness so that the boys would not see him play
+the baby.</p>
+<p>By this time the men from the Flatiron were appearing,
+armed with such weapons as they could
+hastily gather. The situation was explained to
+them. Neighboring ranches were called up by telephone
+and a systematic hunt started to capture
+Blackwell.</p>
+<p>Luck left his three riders to help in the man hunt,
+but he returned with Curly and Maloney to
+Saguache. On the pommel of his saddle was a
+sack. It contained the loot from the express car
+of the Flyer. Two lives already had been sacrificed
+to get it, and the sum total taken amounted only
+to one hundred ninety-four dollars and sixteen
+cents.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVII_THE_PRODIGAL_SON' id='XVII_THE_PRODIGAL_SON'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+<h3>THE PRODIGAL SON</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>They found the prodigal son with his sister and
+Laura London at the Del Mar. Repentance was
+writ large all over his face and manner. From
+Davis and from the girls he had heard the story of
+how Soapy Stone had intended to destroy him. His
+scheme of life had been broken into pieces and he
+was a badly shaken young scamp.</p>
+<p>When Luck and Curly came into the room he
+jumped up, very white about the lips.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Father!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My boy!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cullison had him by the hand, one arm around
+the shaking shoulders.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&mdash;&mdash;what&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Sam&#8217;s question broke down, but his father guessed
+it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Soapy and Bad Bill were killed, Dutch is a
+prisoner, and Blackwell escaped. All Spring Valley
+is out after him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The boy was aghast. &#8220;My God!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Best thing for all of us. Soapy meant to murder
+you. If it hadn&#8217;t been for Curly&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you sure?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;No question about it. He brought no horse for
+you to ride away on. Bill admitted it, though he
+didn&#8217;t know what was planned. Curly heard Soapy
+ask Blackwell whether he had seen your body.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The boy shuddered and drew a long sobbing,
+breath. &#8220;I&#8217;ve been a fool, Father&mdash;and worse.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Forget it, son. We&#8217;ll wipe the slate clean. I&#8217;ve
+been to blame too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was no place for outsiders. Curly beat a retreat
+into the next room. The young women followed
+him. Both of them were frankly weeping.
+Arms twined about each other&#8217;s waists, they disappeared
+into an adjoining bedroom.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t go,&#8221; Kate called to him over her shoulder.</p>
+<p>Curly sat down and waited. Presently Kate came
+back alone. Her shining eyes met his.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I never was so happy in all my life before. Tell
+me what happened&mdash;everything please.&#8221;</p>
+<p>As much as was good for her to know Curly
+told. Without saying a word she listened till he
+was through. Then she asked a question.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Won&#8217;t Dutch tell about Sam being in it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t matter if he does. Evidence of an accomplice
+not enough to convict. Soapy overshot
+himself. I&#8217;m here to testify that Sam and he
+quarrelled before Sam left. Besides, Dutch won&#8217;t
+talk. I drilled it into him thorough that he&#8217;d better
+take his medicine without bringing Sam in.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span></p>
+<p>She sat for a long time looking out of the window
+without moving. She did not make the least
+sound, but the young man knew she was crying
+softly to herself. At last she spoke in a low sweet
+voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What can we do for you? First you save
+Father and then Sam. You risked everything for
+my brother&mdash;to win him back to us, to save his
+life and now his reputation. If you had been killed
+people would always have believed you were one
+of the gang.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sho! That&#8217;s nonsense, Miss Kate.&#8221; He
+twisted his hat in his hand uneasily. &#8220;Honest, I
+enjoyed every bit of it. And a fellow has to pay
+his debts.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Was that why you did it?&#8221; she asked softly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I had to make good. I had to show your
+father and you that I had not thrown away all your
+kindness. So I quit travelling that downhill road
+on which I had got started.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad&mdash;I&#8217;m so glad.&#8221; She whispered it so
+low he could hardly hear.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There was one way to prove myself. That was
+to stand between Sam and trouble. So I butted in
+and spoiled Soapy&#8217;s game.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish I could tell you how fine Father thinks
+it was of you. He doesn&#8217;t speak of it much, but
+I know.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing to what I did&mdash;nothing at all.&#8221; A wave
+of embarrassment had crept to the roots of his curly
+hair. &#8220;Just because a fellow&mdash;Oh, shucks!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all very well for you to say, but you can&#8217;t
+help us thinking what we please.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But that ain&#8217;t right. I don&#8217;t want you thinking
+things that ain&#8217;t so because&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes? Because&mdash;&mdash;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She lifted her eyes and met his. Then she knew
+it had to come out, that the feeling banked in him
+would overflow in words.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because you&#8217;re the girl I love.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He had not intended to say it now, lest he might
+seem to be urging his services as a claim upon her.
+But the words had slipped out in spite of him.</p>
+<p>She held out her two hands to him with a little
+gesture of surrender. The light of love was in her
+starry eyes.</p>
+<p>And then&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p>She was in his arms, and the kisses he had
+dreamed about were on his lips.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVIII_CUTTING_TRAIL' id='XVIII_CUTTING_TRAIL'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+<h3>CUTTING TRAIL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Kate Cullison had disappeared, had gone out riding
+one morning and at nightfall had not returned.
+As the hours passed, anxiety at the Circle C became
+greater.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mebbe she got lost,&#8221; Bob suggested.</p>
+<p>Her father scouted this as absurd. &#8220;Lost nothing.
+You couldn&#8217;t lose her within forty miles of
+the ranch. She knows this country like a cow
+does the range. And say she was lost&mdash;all she
+would have to do would be to give that pinto his
+head and he&#8217;d hit a bee line for home. No, nor
+she ain&#8217;t had an accident either, unless it included
+the pony too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t reckon a cougar&mdash;&mdash;,&#8221; began
+Sweeney, and stopped.</p>
+<p>Luck looked at his bandy-legged old rider with
+eyes in which little cold devils sparkled. &#8220;A human
+cougar, I&#8217;ll bet. This time I&#8217;ll take his hide off
+inch by inch while he&#8217;s still living.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You thinking of Fendrick?&#8221; asked Sam.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve said it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Sweeney considered, rasping his stubbly chin. &#8220;I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span>
+don&#8217;t reckon Cass would do Miss Kate a meanness.
+He&#8217;s a white man, say the worst of him. But it
+might be Blackwell. When last seen he was heading
+into the hills. If he met her&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>A spasm of pain shot across Luck&#8217;s face. &#8220;My
+God! That would be awful.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;By Gum, there he is now, Luck.&#8221; Sweeney&#8217;s
+finger pointed to an advancing rider.</p>
+<p>Cullison swung as on a pivot in time to see someone
+drop into the dip in the road, just beyond the
+corral. &#8220;Who&mdash;Blackwell?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Cass.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick reappeared presently and turned in at
+the lane. Cullison, standing on the porch at the
+head of the steps looked like a man who was passing
+through the inferno. But he looked too a personified
+day of judgment untempered by mercy.
+His eyes bored like steel gimlets into those of his
+enemy.</p>
+<p>The sheepman spoke, looking straight at his foe.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve just heard the news. I was down at Yesler&#8217;s
+ranch when you &#8217;phoned asking if they had seen
+anything of Miss Cullison. I came up to ask you
+one question. When was she seen last?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;About ten o&#8217;clock this morning. Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I saw her about noon. She was on Mesa Verde,
+headed for Blue Cañon looked like.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Close enough to speak to her?&#8221; Sam asked.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. We passed the time of day.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And then?&#8221; Luck cut back into the conversation
+with a voice like a file.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She went on toward the gulch and I kept on to
+the ranch. The last I saw of her she was going
+straight on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you haven&#8217;t seen her since?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The manner of the questioner startled Fendrick.
+&#8220;God, man, you don&#8217;t think I&#8217;m in this, do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you are you&#8217;d better blow your brains out
+before I learn it. And if you&#8217;re trying to lead me
+on a false scent&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; Luck stopped. Words failed
+him, but his iron jaw clamped like a vice.</p>
+<p>Fendrick spoke quietly. &#8220;I&#8217;m willing. In the
+meantime we&#8217;d better travel over toward Mesa
+Verde, so as to be ready to start at daybreak.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cullison&#8217;s gaze had never left him. It observed,
+weighed, appraised. &#8220;Good enough. We&#8217;ll start.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He left Sweeney to answer the telephone while he
+was away. All of his other riders were already
+out combing the hills under supervision of Curly.
+Luck had waited with Sam only to get some definite
+information before starting. Now he had his lead.
+Fendrick was either telling the truth or he was lying
+with some sinister purpose in view. The cattleman
+meant to know which.</p>
+<p>Morning breaks early in Arizona. By the time
+they had come to the spot where the sheepman said
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span>
+he had met Kate gray streaks were already lightening
+the sky. The party moved forward slowly toward
+the cañon, spreading out so as to cover as
+much ground as possible. Before they reached its
+mouth the darkness had lifted enough to show the
+track of a horse in the sand.</p>
+<p>They pushed up the gulch as rapidly as they
+could. The ashes of a camp fire halted them a few
+minutes later. Scattered about lay the feathers and
+dismembered bones of some birds.</p>
+<p>Cass stooped and picked up some of the feathers.
+&#8220;Quails, I reckon. Miss Cullison had three tied
+to her saddle horn when I met her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why did she come up here to cook them?&#8221; Sam
+asked.</p>
+<p>Luck was already off his horse, quartering over
+the ground to read what it might tell him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She wasn&#8217;t alone. There was a man with her.
+See these tracks.&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was Fendrick who made the next discovery.
+He had followed a draw for a short distance and
+climbed to a little mesa above. Presently he called
+to Cullison.</p>
+<p>Father and son hurried toward him. The sheep-owner
+was standing at the edge of a prospect hole
+pointing down with his finger.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Someone has been in that pit recently, and he&#8217;s
+been there several days.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Then how did he get out?&#8221; Sam asked.</p>
+<p>Fendrick knelt on the edge of the pit and showed
+him where a rope had been dragged so heavily that
+it had cut deeply into the clay.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Someone pulled him out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s it mean anyhow? Kate wasn&#8217;t in that
+hole, was she?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cass shook his head. &#8220;This is my guess. Someone
+was coming along here in the dark and fell in.
+Suppose Miss Cullison heard him calling as she
+came up the gulch. What would she do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come up and help the fellow out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure she would. And if he was hungry&mdash;as he
+likely was&mdash;she would cook her quail for him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And then? Why didn&#8217;t she come home?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Luck turned a gray agonized face on him. &#8220;Boy,
+don&#8217;t you see? The man was Blackwell.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And if you&#8217;ll put yourself in Blackwell&#8217;s place
+you&#8217;ll see that he couldn&#8217;t let her go home to tell
+where she had seen him,&#8221; Fendrick explained.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then where is she? What did he do with her?&#8221;</p>
+<p>There came a moment&#8217;s heavy silence. The pale
+face of the boy turned from the sheepman to his
+father. &#8220;You don&#8217;t think that&mdash;that&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I don&#8217;t,&#8221; Cass answered. &#8220;But let&#8217;s look
+this thing squarely in the face. There were three
+things he could do with her. First, he might leave
+her in the pit. He didn&#8217;t do that because he hadn&#8217;t
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span>
+the nerve. She might be found soon and set the
+hunters on his track. Or she might die in that hole
+and he be captured later with her pinto. I know
+him. He always plays a waiting game when he
+can. Takes no chances if he can help it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You think he took her with him then,&#8221; Luck
+said.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. There&#8217;s a third possibility. He may have
+shot her when he got a good chance, but I don&#8217;t
+think so. He would keep her for a hostage as long
+as he could.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the way I figure it,&#8221; agreed Cullison.
+&#8220;He daren&#8217;t hurt her, for he would know Arizona
+would hunt him down like a wolf if he did.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then where&#8217;s he taking her?&#8221; Sam asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Somewhere into the hills. He knows every
+pocket of them. His idea will be to slip down and
+cut across the line into Sonora. He&#8217;s a rotten bad
+lot, but he won&#8217;t do her any harm unless he&#8217;s pushed
+to the wall. The fear of Luck Cullison is in his
+heart.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s about it,&#8221; nodded Luck. &#8220;He&#8217;s somewhere
+in these hills unless he&#8217;s broken through.
+Bolt &#8217;phoned me that one of his posse came on the
+ashes of a camp fire still warm. They&#8217;re closing in
+on him. He&#8217;s got to get food or starve, unless he
+can break through.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a chance he&#8217;ll make for one of my sheep
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span>
+camps to lay in a supply. Wouldn&#8217;t it be a good
+idea to keep a man stationed at each one of them?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re talking sense,&#8221; Cullison approved. &#8220;Sam,
+ride back and get in touch with Curly. Tell him
+to do that. And rouse the whole country over the
+wire. We&#8217;ll run him down and feed him to the
+coyotes.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIX_A_GOOD_SAMARITAN' id='XIX_A_GOOD_SAMARITAN'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+<h3>A GOOD SAMARITAN</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Fendrick had told the exact truth. After leaving
+him Kate had ridden forward to the cañon and entered
+it. She did not mean to go much farther,
+but she took her time. More than once she slipped
+from under a fold of her waist a letter and reread
+sentences of it. Whenever she did this her eyes
+smiled. For it was a love letter from Curly, the
+first she had ever had. It had been lying on the
+inner edge of the threshold of her bedroom door
+that morning when she got up, and she knew that
+her lover had risen early to put it there unnoticed.</p>
+<p>They were to be married soon. Curly had wished
+to wait till after his trial, but she had overruled him.
+Both her father and Sam had sided with her, for
+she had made them both see what an advantage
+it would be with a jury for Flandrau to have his
+bride sitting beside him in the courtroom.</p>
+<p>Faintly there came to her a wind-swept sound.
+She pulled up and waited, but no repetition of it
+reached her ears. But before her pony had moved
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span>
+a dozen steps she stopped him again. This time
+she was almost sure of a far cry, and after it the
+bark of a revolver.</p>
+<p>With the touch of a rein she guided her horse
+toward the sound. It might mean nothing. On
+the other hand it might be a call for help. Her
+shout brought an answer which guided her to the
+edge of a prospect hole. In the darkness she made
+out an indistinct figure.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Water,&#8221; a husky voice demanded.</p>
+<p>She got her canteen from the saddle and dropped
+it to him. The man glued his lips to the mouth as
+if he could never get enough.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For God&#8217;s sake get me out of here,&#8221; he pleaded
+piteously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How long have you been there?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Two days. I fell in at night whilst I was cutting
+acrost country.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Kate fastened her rope to the horn of the saddle,
+tightened the cinch carefully, and dropped the other
+end to him. She swung to the back of the horse
+and braced herself by resting her full weight on the
+farther stirrup.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; she told him.</p>
+<p>The imprisoned man tried to pull himself up,
+bracing his feet against the rough projections of
+the rock wall to help him. But he could not manage
+the climb. At last he gave it up with an oath.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325' name='page_325'></a>325</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll try another way,&#8221; the girl told him cheerfully.</p>
+<p>At spaces about a foot distant she tied knots in
+the rope for about the first six feet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This time you&#8217;ll make it,&#8221; she promised. &#8220;You
+can get up part way as you did before. Then I&#8217;ll
+start my horse forward. Keep braced out from
+the wall so as not to get crushed.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He growled an assent. Once more she got into
+the saddle and gave the word. He dragged himself
+up a few feet and then the cowpony moved forward.
+The legs of the man doubled up under the
+strain and he was crushed against the wall just as
+he reached the top. However, he managed to hang
+on and was dragged over the edge with one cheek
+scratched and bleeding.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Might a-known you&#8217;d hurt me if you moved so
+fast,&#8221; he complained, nursing his wounded face in
+such a way as to hide it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry. I did my best to go carefully,&#8221; the
+girl answered, stepping forward.</p>
+<p>His hand shot forward and caught her wrist Her
+startled eyes flashed to his face. The man was the
+convict Blackwell.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Got anything to eat with you. I&#8217;m starving,&#8221;
+he snapped.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I shot some quail Let go my hand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He laughed evilly, without mirth. &#8220;Don&#8217;t try
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326' name='page_326'></a>326</span>
+any of your sassy ways on me. By God, I&#8217;m a
+wolf on the howl.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In spite of her supple slenderness there was
+strength in her small wrists. She fought and
+twisted till she was worn out in her efforts to free
+herself. Panting, she faced him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me go, I tell you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>For answer his open hand struck her mouth.
+&#8220;Not till you learn your boss. Before I&#8217;m through
+with you a squaw won&#8217;t be half so tame as you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He dragged her to the horse, took from its case
+the rifle that hung by the saddle, and flung her
+from him roughly. Then he pulled himself to the
+saddle.</p>
+<p>&#8220;March ahead of me,&#8221; he ordered.</p>
+<p>As soon as they had reached the bed of the cañon
+lie called a halt and bade her light a fire and cook
+him the quail. She gathered ironwood and catclaw
+while he watched her vigilantly. Together they
+roasted the birds by holding them over the fire with
+sharpened sticks thrust through the wings. He
+devoured them with the voracity of a wild beast.</p>
+<p>Hitherto his mind had been busy with the immediate
+present, but now his furtive shifting gaze
+rested on her more thoughtfully. It was as a factor
+of his safety that he considered her. Gratitude was
+a feeling not within his scope. The man&#8217;s mind
+worked just as Fendrick had surmised. He would
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327' name='page_327'></a>327</span>
+not let her go back to the ranch with the news that
+he was hidden in the hills so close at hand. He
+dared not leave her in the prospect hole. He was
+not yet ready to do murder for fear of punishment.
+That was a possibility to be considered only
+if he should be hard pressed. The only alternative
+left him was to take her to the border as a companion
+of his fugitive doublings.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll be going now,&#8221; he announced, after he
+had eaten.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Going where? Don&#8217;t you see I&#8217;ll be a drag to
+you? Take my horse and go. You&#8217;ll get along
+faster.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think so?&#8221;</p>
+<p>She opened her lips to answer, but there was
+something in his face&mdash;something at once so cruel
+and deadly and wolfish&mdash;that made the words die
+on her lips. For the first time it came to her that
+if he did not take her with him he would kill her
+to insure his own safety. None of the arguments
+that would have availed with another man were of
+any weight here. Her sex, her youth, the service
+she had done him&mdash;these would not count a straw.
+He was lost to all the instincts of honor that govern
+even hard desperate men of his class.</p>
+<p>They struck into the mountains, following a
+cattle trail that wound upward with devious twists.
+The man rode, and the girl walked in front with
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328' name='page_328'></a>328</span>
+the elastic lightness, the unconscious flexuous grace
+of poise given her body by an outdoor life. After
+a time they left the gulch. Steadily they traveled,
+up dark arroyos bristling with mesquite, across little
+valleys leading into timbered stretches through
+which broken limbs and uprooted trees made progress
+almost impossible, following always untrodden
+ways that appalled with their lonely desolation.</p>
+<p>By dusk they were up in the headwaters of the
+creeks. The resilient muscles of the girl had lost
+their spring. She moved wearily, her feet dragging
+heavily so that sometimes she staggered when the
+ground was rough. Not once had the man offered
+her the horse. He meant to be fresh, ready for
+any emergency that might come. Moreover, it
+pleased his small soul to see the daughter of Luck
+Cullison fagged and exhausted but still answering
+the spur of his urge.</p>
+<p>The moon was up before they came upon a tent
+shining in the cold silvery light. Beside it was a
+sheetiron stove, a box, the ashes of a camp fire,
+and a side of bacon hanging from the limb of a
+stunted pine. Cautiously they stole forward.</p>
+<p>The camp was for the time deserted. No doubt
+its owner, a Mexican sheepherder in the employ of
+Fendrick and Dominguez, was out somewhere with
+his flock.</p>
+<p>Kate cooked a meal and the convict ate. The
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329' name='page_329'></a>329</span>
+girl was too tired and anxious to care for food,
+but she made herself take a little. They packed
+the saddlebags with bacon, beans, coffee and flour.
+Blackwell tightened again the cinches and once more
+the two took the trail.</p>
+<p>They made camp in a pocket opening from a
+gulch far up in the hills. With her own <i>reata</i> he
+fastened her hands behind her and tied the girl
+securely to the twisted trunk of a Joshua tree. To
+make sure of her he lay on the rope, both hands
+clinched to the rifle. In five minutes he was asleep,
+but it was long before Kate could escape from
+wakefulness. She was anxious, her nerves were
+jumpy, and the muscles of arms and shoulders were
+cramped. At last she fell into troubled catnaps.</p>
+<p>From one of these she awoke to see that the
+morning light was sifting through the darkness.
+Her bones and muscles ached from the constraint
+of the position in which the rope held them. She
+was shivering with the chill of an Arizona mountain
+night. Turning her body, the girl&#8217;s eyes fell upon
+her captor. He was looking at her in the way that
+no decent man looks at a woman. Her impulse was
+to scream, to struggle to her feet and run. What
+did he mean? What was he going to do?</p>
+<p>But something warned her this would precipitate
+the danger. She called upon her courage and tried
+to still the fearful tumult in her heart. Somehow
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330' name='page_330'></a>330</span>
+she succeeded. A scornful, confident pride flashed
+from her eyes into his. It told him that for his
+life he dared not lay a finger upon her in the way
+of harm. And he knew it was true, knew that if
+he gave way to his desire no hole under heaven
+would be deep enough to hide him from the vengeance
+of her friends.</p>
+<p>He got sullenly to his feet. &#8220;Come. We&#8217;ll be
+going.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Within the hour they saw some of his hunters.
+The two were sweeping around the lip of a mountain
+park nestling among the summits. A wisp of
+smoke rose from the basin below. Grouped about
+it were three men eating breakfast.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t make a sound,&#8221; warned Blackwell.</p>
+<p>His rifle covered her. With all her soul she
+longed to cry for help. But she dared not take the
+risk. Even as the two on the edge of the bowl
+withdrew from sight one of the campers rose and
+sauntered to a little grove where the ponies were
+tethered. The distance was too far to make sure,
+but something in the gait made the girl sure that
+the man was Curly. Her hands went out to him in
+a piteous little gesture of appeal.</p>
+<p>She was right. It was Curly. He was thinking
+of her at that moment despairingly, but no bell of
+warning rang within to tell him she was so near
+and in such fearful need of him.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331' name='page_331'></a>331</span></p>
+<p>Twice during the morning did the refugee attempt
+to slip down into the parched desert that
+stretched toward Sonora and safety. But the cordon
+set about him was drawn too close. Each time
+a loose-seated rider lounging in the saddle with a
+rifle in his hands drove them back. The second attempt
+was almost disastrous, for the convict was
+seen. The hum of a bullet whistled past his ears
+as he and his prisoner drew back into the chaparral
+and from thence won back to cover.</p>
+<p>Kate, drooping with fatigue, saw that fear rode
+Blackwell heavily. He was trapped and he knew
+that by the Arizona code his life was forfeit and
+would be exacted of him should he be taken. He
+had not the hardihood to game it out in silence,
+but whined complaints, promises and threats. He
+tried to curry favor with her, to work upon her
+pity, even while his furtive glances told her that
+he was wondering whether he would have a better
+chance if he sacrificed her life.</p>
+<p>From gulch to arroyo, from rock-cover to pine-clad
+hillside he was driven in his attempts to break
+the narrowing circle of grim hunters that hemmed
+him. And with each failure, with every passing
+hour, the terror in him mounted. He would have
+welcomed life imprisonment, would have sold the
+last vestige of manhood to save the worthless life
+that would soon be snuffed out unless he could
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332' name='page_332'></a>332</span>
+evade his hunters till night and in the darkness
+break through the line.</p>
+<p>He knew now that it had been a fatal mistake to
+bring the girl with him. He might have evaded
+Bolt&#8217;s posses, but now every man within fifty miles
+was on the lookout for him. His rage turned
+against Kate because of it. Yet even in those black
+outbursts he felt that he must cling to her as his
+only hope of saving himself. He had made another
+mistake in lighting a campfire during the
+morning. Any fool ought to have known that
+the smoke would draw his hunters as the smell of
+carrion does a buzzard.</p>
+<p>Now he made a third error. Doubling back
+over an open stretch of hillside, he was seen again
+and forced into the first pocket that opened. It
+proved to be a blind gulch, one offering no exit at
+the upper end but a stiff rock climb to a bluff above.</p>
+<p>He whipped off his coat and gave it to Kate.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Put it on. Quick.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Surprised, she slipped it on.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now ride back out and cut along the edge of
+the hill. You&#8217;ve got time to make it all right before
+they close in if you travel fast. Stop once&mdash;just
+once&mdash;and I&#8217;ll drop you in your tracks. Now
+git!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She saw his object in a flash. Wearing his gray
+felt hat and his coat, the pursuers would mistake
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333' name='page_333'></a>333</span>
+her for him. They would follow her&mdash;perhaps
+shoot her down. Anyhow, it would be a diversion
+to draw them from him. Meanwhile he would climb
+the cliff and slip away unnoticed.</p>
+<p>The danger of what she had to do stood out
+quite clearly, but as a chance to get away from
+him she welcomed it gladly. She swung the pony
+with a touch of the rein and set him instantly at
+the canter. It was rough going, but she took it
+almost blindly.</p>
+<p>From the lip of the gulch she swung abruptly
+to the right. Her horse stumbled and went down
+just as a bullet flew over her head. Before she
+was free of the stirrups strong hands pinned her
+shoulders to the ground. She heard a glad startled
+cry. The rough hands became immediately gentle.
+Then things grew black. The last she remembered
+was that the mountains were dancing up and down
+in an odd fashion.</p>
+<p>Her eyes opened to see Curly. She was in his
+arms and his face was broken with emotions of
+love and tenderness.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re not hurt,&#8221; he implored.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He didn&#8217;t&mdash;mistreat you?&#8221; His voice was
+trembling as he whispered it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;No.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And at that she broke down. A deep sob shook
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334' name='page_334'></a>334</span>
+her body&mdash;and another. She buried her head on
+his shoulder and wept.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>Without losing an instant the convict set himself
+at the climb. His haste, the swift glances shot
+behind him, the appalling dread that made his nerves
+ragged, delayed his speed by dissipating the singleness
+of his energy. His face and hands were torn
+with catclaw, his knee bruised by a slip against a
+sharp jut of quartz.</p>
+<p>When he reached the top he was panting and
+shaken. Before he had moved a dozen steps a man
+came out of the brush scarce seventy-five yards away
+and called to him to surrender. He flung his rifle
+to place and fired twice.</p>
+<p>The man staggered and steadied himself. A
+shell had jammed and Blackwell could not throw it
+out. He turned to run as the other fired. But he
+was too late. He stumbled, tripped, and went down
+full length.</p>
+<p>The man that had shot him waited for him to
+rise. The convict did not move. Cautiously the
+wounded hunter came forward, his eyes never lifting
+from the inert sprawling figure. Even now he
+half expected him to spring up, life and energy in
+every tense muscle. Not till he stood over him,
+till he saw the carelessly flung limbs, the uncouth
+twist to the neck, could he believe that so slight a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335' name='page_335'></a>335</span>
+crook of the finger had sent swift death across the
+plateau.</p>
+<p>The wounded man felt suddenly sick. Leaning
+against a rock, he steadied himself till the nausea
+was past. Voices called to him from the plain below.
+He answered, and presently circled down into
+the gulch which led to the open.</p>
+<p>At the gulch mouth he came on a little group of
+people. One glance told him all he needed to know.
+Kate Cullison was crying in the arms of Curly
+Flandrau. Simultaneously a man galloped up, flung
+himself from his horse, and took the young woman
+from her lover.</p>
+<p>&#8220;My little girl,&#8221; he cried in a voice that rang
+with love.</p>
+<p>Luck had found his ewe lamb that was lost.</p>
+<p>It was Curly who first saw the man approaching
+from the gulch. &#8220;Hello, Cass! Did you get him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Fendrick nodded wearily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dead sure?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yep. He&#8217;s up there.&#8221; The sheepman&#8217;s hand
+swept toward the bluff.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re wounded.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Got me in the shoulder. Nothing serious, I
+judge.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cullison swung around. &#8220;Sure about that, Cass?&#8221;
+It was the first time for years that he had called
+the other by his first name except in irony.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_336' name='page_336'></a>336</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s have a look at the shoulder.&#8221;</p>
+<p>After he had done what he could for it Luck
+spoke bluffly. &#8220;This dashed feud is off, Cass.
+You&#8217;ve wiped the slate clean. When you killed
+Blackwell you put me out of a hostile camp.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad&mdash;so glad. Now we&#8217;ll all be friends,
+won&#8217;t we?&#8221; Kate cried.</p>
+<p>Cass looked at her and at Curly, both of them
+radiant with happiness, and his heart ached for
+what he had missed. But he smiled none the less.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Suits me if it does you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He gave one hand to Luck and the other to his
+daughter.</p>
+<p>Curly laughed gaily. &#8220;Everybody satisfied, I
+reckon,&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XX_LOOSE_THREADS' id='XX_LOOSE_THREADS'></a>
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_337' name='page_337'></a>337</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+<h3>LOOSE THREADS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Curly was right when he said that those who
+knew about Sam&#8217;s share in the planning of the Tin
+Cup hold-up would keep their mouths closed. All
+of the men implicated in the robbery were dead
+except Dutch. Cullison used his influence to get
+the man a light sentence, for he knew that he was
+not a criminal at heart. In return Dutch went
+down the line without so much as breathing Sam&#8217;s
+name.</p>
+<p>Luck saw to it that Curly got all the credit of
+frustrating the outlaws in their attempt on the Flyer
+and of capturing them afterward. In the story of
+the rescue of Kate he played up Flandrau&#8217;s part
+in the pursuit at the expense of the other riders.
+For September was at hand and the young man
+needed all the prestige he could get. The district
+attorney had no choice but to go on with the case
+of the State versus Flandrau on a charge of rustling
+horses from the Bar Double M. But public sentiment
+was almost a unit in favor of the defendant.</p>
+<p>The evidence of the prosecution was not so
+strong as it had been. All of his accomplices were
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_338' name='page_338'></a>338</span>
+dead and one of the men implicated had given it
+out in his last moments that the young man was
+not a party to the crime. The man who had owned
+the feed corral had sold out and gone to Colorado.
+The hotel clerk would not swear positively that
+the prisoner was the man he had seen with the other
+rustlers.</p>
+<p>Curly had one important asset no jury could
+forget. It counted for a good deal that Alec Flandrau,
+Billy Mackenzie, and Luck Cullison were
+known to be backing him, but it was worth much
+more that his wife of a week sat beside him in the
+courtroom. Every time they looked at the prisoner
+the jurymen saw too her dusky gallant little head
+and slender figure. They remembered the terrible
+experience through which she had so recently
+passed. She had come through it to happiness.
+Every look and motion of the girl wife radiated
+love for the young scamp who had won her. And
+since they were tender-hearted old frontiersmen
+they did not intend to spoil her joy. Moreover,
+society could afford to take chances with this young
+fellow Flandrau. He had been wild no doubt, but
+he had shown since the real stuff that was in him.
+Long before they left the box each member of the
+jury knew that he was going to vote for acquittal.</p>
+<p>It took the jury only one ballot to find a verdict
+of not guilty. The judge did not attempt to stop
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_339' name='page_339'></a>339</span>
+the uproar of glad cheers that shook the building
+when the decision was read. He knew it was not
+the prisoner so much they were cheering as the
+brave girl who had sat so pluckily for three days
+beside the husband she had made a man.</p>
+<p>From the courtroom Curly walked out under the
+blue sky of Arizona a free man. But he knew that
+the best of his good fortune was that he did not
+go alone. For all the rest of their lives her firm
+little steps would move beside him to keep him true
+and steady. He could not go wrong now, for he
+was anchored to a responsibility that was a continual
+joy and wonder to him.</p>
+<div class='ce'>
+<p><i>The End</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<table width='400' style="margin: auto; border: double;" summary="">
+<col style="width:9%;" />
+<col style="width:82%;" />
+<col style="width:9%;" />
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>
+<p style="text-align:center; margin-top:1em; font-style: italic;">&#8220;The Books You Like to Read<br />at the Price You Like to Pay</p>
+</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td colspan='3'><hr /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>
+<p style='text-align:left'>
+<span style="font-size:1.8em; margin-bottom:0.4em;">There Are Two Sides<br />to Everything&mdash;</span></p>
+<p>&mdash;including the wrapper which covers every Grosset &amp; Dunlap book.
+When you feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully
+selected list of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by
+prominent writers of the day which is printed on the back of every
+Grosset &amp; Dunlap book wrapper.</p>
+<p>You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from&nbsp;books
+for every mood and every taste and every pocketbook.</p>
+<p><i>Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write
+to the publishers for a complete catalog.</i></p>
+</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan='3'><hr /></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan='3'><p style='margin-top:0em; text-align:center'><i>There is a Grosset &amp; Dunlap Book<br />for every mood and for every taste</i></p></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.27 -->
+<!-- timestamp: Sun Oct 12 16:08:46 -0600 2008 -->
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Crooked Trails and Straight, by 
+William MacLeod Raine and D. C. Hutchison
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT ***
+
+***** This file should be named 26911-h.htm or 26911-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/9/1/26911/
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/26911-h/images/illus-098.jpg b/26911-h/images/illus-098.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a9aba70
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-h/images/illus-098.jpg
diff --git a/26911-h/images/illus-253.jpg b/26911-h/images/illus-253.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f61ba7e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-h/images/illus-253.jpg
diff --git a/26911-h/images/illus-emb.png b/26911-h/images/illus-emb.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d61cd1c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-h/images/illus-emb.png
diff --git a/26911-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg b/26911-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2bf27f6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg
diff --git a/26911-page-images/f0000-image1.jpg b/26911-page-images/f0000-image1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f1d262f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/f0000-image1.jpg
diff --git a/26911-page-images/f0001.png b/26911-page-images/f0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3e55acc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/f0001.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/f0002.png b/26911-page-images/f0002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..498643b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/f0002.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/f0003.png b/26911-page-images/f0003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a3b184b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/f0003.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0008.png b/26911-page-images/p0008.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4c26c7b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0008.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0009.png b/26911-page-images/p0009.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..10ebc56
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0009.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0010.png b/26911-page-images/p0010.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..50a7f6f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0010.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0011.png b/26911-page-images/p0011.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7cf5bba
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0011.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0012.png b/26911-page-images/p0012.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0966807
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0012.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0013.png b/26911-page-images/p0013.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..701d8d6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0013.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0014.png b/26911-page-images/p0014.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bec4e96
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0014.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0015.png b/26911-page-images/p0015.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4bb1588
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0015.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0016.png b/26911-page-images/p0016.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..90e5b0f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0016.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0017.png b/26911-page-images/p0017.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..20211fe
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0017.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0018.png b/26911-page-images/p0018.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cc6a933
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0018.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0019.png b/26911-page-images/p0019.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f1dc6f0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0019.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0020.png b/26911-page-images/p0020.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..edca966
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0020.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0021.png b/26911-page-images/p0021.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..539d264
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0021.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0022.png b/26911-page-images/p0022.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1112ceb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0022.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0023.png b/26911-page-images/p0023.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4108c2a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0023.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0024.png b/26911-page-images/p0024.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c3f1532
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0024.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0025.png b/26911-page-images/p0025.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0e4d7ca
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0025.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0026.png b/26911-page-images/p0026.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..01cfb39
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0026.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0027.png b/26911-page-images/p0027.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e63d17f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0027.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0028.png b/26911-page-images/p0028.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..741df2c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0028.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0029.png b/26911-page-images/p0029.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6fb5326
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0029.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0030.png b/26911-page-images/p0030.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..edea62d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0030.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0031.png b/26911-page-images/p0031.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..10aff6e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0031.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0032.png b/26911-page-images/p0032.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a773700
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0032.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0033.png b/26911-page-images/p0033.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7a50d7c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0033.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0034.png b/26911-page-images/p0034.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6f96abd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0034.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0035.png b/26911-page-images/p0035.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..31cdea0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0035.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0036.png b/26911-page-images/p0036.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..19ee79b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0036.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0037.png b/26911-page-images/p0037.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4dace13
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0037.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0038.png b/26911-page-images/p0038.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..26670fe
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0038.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0039.png b/26911-page-images/p0039.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4bef4aa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0039.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0040.png b/26911-page-images/p0040.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..57e188f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0040.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0041.png b/26911-page-images/p0041.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6adf173
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0041.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0042.png b/26911-page-images/p0042.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..736d209
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0042.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0043.png b/26911-page-images/p0043.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7892c43
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0043.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0044.png b/26911-page-images/p0044.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..62dc190
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0044.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0045.png b/26911-page-images/p0045.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..600488d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0045.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0046.png b/26911-page-images/p0046.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f306b73
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0046.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0047.png b/26911-page-images/p0047.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..afe01d1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0047.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0048.png b/26911-page-images/p0048.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..73c66da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0048.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0049.png b/26911-page-images/p0049.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..29b52d5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0049.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0050.png b/26911-page-images/p0050.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..efba252
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0050.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0051.png b/26911-page-images/p0051.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..04cf1ae
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0051.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0052.png b/26911-page-images/p0052.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..772f474
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0052.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0053.png b/26911-page-images/p0053.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..47eb94e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0053.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0054.png b/26911-page-images/p0054.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dc986b3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0054.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0055.png b/26911-page-images/p0055.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..42ca252
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0055.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0056.png b/26911-page-images/p0056.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e24ac6b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0056.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0057.png b/26911-page-images/p0057.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f8f2180
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0057.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0058.png b/26911-page-images/p0058.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c526106
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0058.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0059.png b/26911-page-images/p0059.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d273bba
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0059.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0060.png b/26911-page-images/p0060.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d4b6ede
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0060.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0061.png b/26911-page-images/p0061.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e5c3797
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0061.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0062.png b/26911-page-images/p0062.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..eb9cb1b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0062.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0063.png b/26911-page-images/p0063.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2b725f8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0063.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0064.png b/26911-page-images/p0064.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8161b38
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0064.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0065.png b/26911-page-images/p0065.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b96b928
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0065.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0066.png b/26911-page-images/p0066.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c2ddd58
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0066.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0067.png b/26911-page-images/p0067.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..390ce44
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0067.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0068.png b/26911-page-images/p0068.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e694590
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0068.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0069.png b/26911-page-images/p0069.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3196866
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0069.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0070.png b/26911-page-images/p0070.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cd5a992
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0070.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0071.png b/26911-page-images/p0071.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d9d4fe5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0071.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0072.png b/26911-page-images/p0072.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1edfc67
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0072.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0073.png b/26911-page-images/p0073.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..74e555b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0073.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0074.png b/26911-page-images/p0074.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9109a14
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0074.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0075.png b/26911-page-images/p0075.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6873098
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0075.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0076.png b/26911-page-images/p0076.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c486cd2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0076.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0077.png b/26911-page-images/p0077.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..86ff537
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0077.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0078.png b/26911-page-images/p0078.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5dcefb7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0078.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0079.png b/26911-page-images/p0079.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c155a54
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0079.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0080.png b/26911-page-images/p0080.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..188ab2b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0080.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0081.png b/26911-page-images/p0081.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d990d40
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0081.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0082.png b/26911-page-images/p0082.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1fd3b50
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0082.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0083.png b/26911-page-images/p0083.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0f1b268
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0083.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0084.png b/26911-page-images/p0084.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fff22cb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0084.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0085.png b/26911-page-images/p0085.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8d34b5e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0085.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0086.png b/26911-page-images/p0086.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..347bd57
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0086.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0087.png b/26911-page-images/p0087.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..20a7fcb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0087.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0088.png b/26911-page-images/p0088.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c81c5ed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0088.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0089.png b/26911-page-images/p0089.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f68f72e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0089.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0090.png b/26911-page-images/p0090.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..98d43ac
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0090.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0091.png b/26911-page-images/p0091.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3304091
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0091.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0092-image1.jpg b/26911-page-images/p0092-image1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5e6fcbc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0092-image1.jpg
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0092.png b/26911-page-images/p0092.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..160e432
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0092.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0093.png b/26911-page-images/p0093.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..be9281b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0093.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0094.png b/26911-page-images/p0094.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..32a9247
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0094.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0095.png b/26911-page-images/p0095.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8716525
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0095.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0096.png b/26911-page-images/p0096.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e77774f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0096.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0097.png b/26911-page-images/p0097.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fad04b3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0097.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0098.png b/26911-page-images/p0098.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e141201
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0098.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0099.png b/26911-page-images/p0099.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cac82dc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0099.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0100.png b/26911-page-images/p0100.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..147fe6b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0100.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0101.png b/26911-page-images/p0101.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7df78dc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0101.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0102.png b/26911-page-images/p0102.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0353547
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0102.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0103.png b/26911-page-images/p0103.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..866051f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0103.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0104.png b/26911-page-images/p0104.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..32718ac
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0104.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0105.png b/26911-page-images/p0105.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..abb5d29
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0105.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0106.png b/26911-page-images/p0106.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7efd6dc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0106.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0107.png b/26911-page-images/p0107.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fe8e5e3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0107.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0108.png b/26911-page-images/p0108.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3d0a7d9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0108.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0109.png b/26911-page-images/p0109.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..51bf919
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0109.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0110.png b/26911-page-images/p0110.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5153099
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0110.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0111.png b/26911-page-images/p0111.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..155c44c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0111.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0112.png b/26911-page-images/p0112.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..029f0af
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0112.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0113.png b/26911-page-images/p0113.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cdebbdb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0113.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0114.png b/26911-page-images/p0114.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..61e2160
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0114.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0115.png b/26911-page-images/p0115.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..84dc7cf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0115.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0116.png b/26911-page-images/p0116.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1d65697
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0116.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0117.png b/26911-page-images/p0117.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..28d5bfe
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0117.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0118.png b/26911-page-images/p0118.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b3def6c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0118.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0119.png b/26911-page-images/p0119.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3d3a2a5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0119.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0120.png b/26911-page-images/p0120.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..069b631
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0120.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0121.png b/26911-page-images/p0121.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6a95b7c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0121.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0122.png b/26911-page-images/p0122.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9feb030
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0122.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0123.png b/26911-page-images/p0123.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cd62819
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0123.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0124.png b/26911-page-images/p0124.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5344ba1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0124.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0125.png b/26911-page-images/p0125.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f6ab662
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0125.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0126.png b/26911-page-images/p0126.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..927dfda
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0126.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0127.png b/26911-page-images/p0127.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c310193
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0127.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0128.png b/26911-page-images/p0128.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..31359ad
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0128.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0129.png b/26911-page-images/p0129.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..acae613
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0129.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0130.png b/26911-page-images/p0130.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..700227b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0130.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0131.png b/26911-page-images/p0131.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6d8a907
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0131.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0132.png b/26911-page-images/p0132.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..104aedf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0132.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0133.png b/26911-page-images/p0133.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..92b2634
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0133.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0134.png b/26911-page-images/p0134.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..131076c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0134.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0135.png b/26911-page-images/p0135.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..54fd242
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0135.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0136.png b/26911-page-images/p0136.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..25864ef
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0136.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0137.png b/26911-page-images/p0137.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..49ecc2f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0137.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0138.png b/26911-page-images/p0138.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1e2833a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0138.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0139.png b/26911-page-images/p0139.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2a7385e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0139.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0140.png b/26911-page-images/p0140.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dacb048
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0140.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0141.png b/26911-page-images/p0141.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..79a1887
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0141.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0143.png b/26911-page-images/p0143.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1870a3d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0143.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0144.png b/26911-page-images/p0144.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d632043
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0144.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0145.png b/26911-page-images/p0145.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9030381
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0145.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0146.png b/26911-page-images/p0146.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b1d5a3c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0146.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0147.png b/26911-page-images/p0147.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3d15762
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0147.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0148.png b/26911-page-images/p0148.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..27dbc36
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0148.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0149.png b/26911-page-images/p0149.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c15cb21
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0149.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0150.png b/26911-page-images/p0150.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5ebf931
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0150.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0151.png b/26911-page-images/p0151.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b298dbc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0151.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0152.png b/26911-page-images/p0152.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..704f126
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0152.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0153.png b/26911-page-images/p0153.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f41bd3a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0153.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0154.png b/26911-page-images/p0154.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aaab1f0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0154.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0155.png b/26911-page-images/p0155.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1b41fc2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0155.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0156.png b/26911-page-images/p0156.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..31a877d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0156.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0157.png b/26911-page-images/p0157.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3cbd445
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0157.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0158.png b/26911-page-images/p0158.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..09933c1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0158.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0159.png b/26911-page-images/p0159.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..354f301
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0159.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0160.png b/26911-page-images/p0160.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ae42724
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0160.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0161.png b/26911-page-images/p0161.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f8fa0ab
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0161.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0162.png b/26911-page-images/p0162.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..59b360f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0162.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0163.png b/26911-page-images/p0163.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..29346d1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0163.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0164.png b/26911-page-images/p0164.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..659fcf4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0164.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0165.png b/26911-page-images/p0165.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3679572
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0165.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0166.png b/26911-page-images/p0166.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..988fe97
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0166.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0167.png b/26911-page-images/p0167.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9d22be7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0167.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0168.png b/26911-page-images/p0168.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..186a19a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0168.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0169.png b/26911-page-images/p0169.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..061c445
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0169.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0170.png b/26911-page-images/p0170.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..502907c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0170.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0171.png b/26911-page-images/p0171.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e102674
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0171.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0172.png b/26911-page-images/p0172.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0af346b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0172.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0173.png b/26911-page-images/p0173.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..44b5c13
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0173.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0174.png b/26911-page-images/p0174.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..612aa92
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0174.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0175.png b/26911-page-images/p0175.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4b9f2a0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0175.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0176.png b/26911-page-images/p0176.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fe26158
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0176.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0177.png b/26911-page-images/p0177.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5883dda
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0177.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0178.png b/26911-page-images/p0178.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4777aaf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0178.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0179.png b/26911-page-images/p0179.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f144471
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0179.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0180.png b/26911-page-images/p0180.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a159395
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0180.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0181.png b/26911-page-images/p0181.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..abcefef
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0181.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0182.png b/26911-page-images/p0182.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..56a82a9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0182.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0183.png b/26911-page-images/p0183.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..91d52e9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0183.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0184.png b/26911-page-images/p0184.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9c8146c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0184.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0185.png b/26911-page-images/p0185.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8b736f8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0185.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0186.png b/26911-page-images/p0186.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a72d735
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0186.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0187.png b/26911-page-images/p0187.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b7d552d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0187.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0188.png b/26911-page-images/p0188.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f5da947
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0188.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0189.png b/26911-page-images/p0189.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ec9c360
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0189.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0190.png b/26911-page-images/p0190.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..000f514
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0190.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0191.png b/26911-page-images/p0191.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fb9efea
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0191.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0192.png b/26911-page-images/p0192.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..edcc19e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0192.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0193.png b/26911-page-images/p0193.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..52d5536
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0193.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0194.png b/26911-page-images/p0194.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0428430
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0194.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0195.png b/26911-page-images/p0195.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..79a94db
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0195.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0196.png b/26911-page-images/p0196.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..047ec68
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0196.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0197.png b/26911-page-images/p0197.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..84a0e54
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0197.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0198.png b/26911-page-images/p0198.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c108778
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0198.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0199.png b/26911-page-images/p0199.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3e536b3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0199.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0200.png b/26911-page-images/p0200.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5e0d132
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0200.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0201.png b/26911-page-images/p0201.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e6666b0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0201.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0202.png b/26911-page-images/p0202.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a265d34
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0202.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0203.png b/26911-page-images/p0203.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2c9545c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0203.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0204.png b/26911-page-images/p0204.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6d13bae
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0204.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0205.png b/26911-page-images/p0205.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b9caf2b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0205.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0206.png b/26911-page-images/p0206.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5d69e20
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0206.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0207.png b/26911-page-images/p0207.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e74d8fb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0207.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0208.png b/26911-page-images/p0208.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b05ca51
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0208.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0209.png b/26911-page-images/p0209.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f89e5bf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0209.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0210.png b/26911-page-images/p0210.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d3b1470
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0210.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0211.png b/26911-page-images/p0211.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6949711
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0211.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0212.png b/26911-page-images/p0212.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9a44285
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0212.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0213.png b/26911-page-images/p0213.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0e35cef
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0213.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0214.png b/26911-page-images/p0214.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fc2f3d3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0214.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0215.png b/26911-page-images/p0215.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9731715
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0215.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0216.png b/26911-page-images/p0216.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bda5bec
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0216.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0217.png b/26911-page-images/p0217.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4434205
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0217.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0218.png b/26911-page-images/p0218.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..37025e7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0218.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0219.png b/26911-page-images/p0219.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9326a69
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0219.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0220.png b/26911-page-images/p0220.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1f8e99f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0220.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0221.png b/26911-page-images/p0221.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..679345e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0221.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0222.png b/26911-page-images/p0222.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c53353b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0222.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0223.png b/26911-page-images/p0223.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d996995
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0223.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0224.png b/26911-page-images/p0224.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7dab274
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0224.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0225.png b/26911-page-images/p0225.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..383cae4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0225.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0226.png b/26911-page-images/p0226.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1239c3e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0226.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0227.png b/26911-page-images/p0227.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ecfbd7a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0227.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0228.png b/26911-page-images/p0228.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bb34eff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0228.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0229.png b/26911-page-images/p0229.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..afb3213
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0229.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0230.png b/26911-page-images/p0230.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8dec7cc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0230.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0231.png b/26911-page-images/p0231.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0d671c6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0231.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0232.png b/26911-page-images/p0232.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..742594d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0232.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0233.png b/26911-page-images/p0233.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5bd0683
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0233.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0234.png b/26911-page-images/p0234.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ad86532
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0234.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0235.png b/26911-page-images/p0235.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b19d091
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0235.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0236.png b/26911-page-images/p0236.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ae74308
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0236.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0237.png b/26911-page-images/p0237.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d66eb71
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0237.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0238.png b/26911-page-images/p0238.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c8e0a44
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0238.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0239.png b/26911-page-images/p0239.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c446e0b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0239.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0240.png b/26911-page-images/p0240.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..168bc24
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0240.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0241.png b/26911-page-images/p0241.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fbb801c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0241.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0242.png b/26911-page-images/p0242.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b286eda
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0242.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0243.png b/26911-page-images/p0243.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6ed6011
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0243.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0244.png b/26911-page-images/p0244.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..be6c924
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0244.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0245.png b/26911-page-images/p0245.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a72d176
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0245.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0246.png b/26911-page-images/p0246.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd3a722
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0246.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0247.png b/26911-page-images/p0247.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7a62a3c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0247.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0248.png b/26911-page-images/p0248.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6740ce0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0248.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0249.png b/26911-page-images/p0249.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1c0bcfc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0249.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0250.png b/26911-page-images/p0250.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..90a2caf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0250.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0251.png b/26911-page-images/p0251.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7ffabc7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0251.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0252-image1.jpg b/26911-page-images/p0252-image1.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..48ec92b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0252-image1.jpg
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0252.png b/26911-page-images/p0252.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..44332c7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0252.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0253.png b/26911-page-images/p0253.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d4c3c99
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0253.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0254.png b/26911-page-images/p0254.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5546639
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0254.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0255.png b/26911-page-images/p0255.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fc2beda
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0255.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0256.png b/26911-page-images/p0256.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..88a1311
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0256.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0257.png b/26911-page-images/p0257.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f7abeee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0257.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0258.png b/26911-page-images/p0258.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..889ca79
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0258.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0259.png b/26911-page-images/p0259.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ecd6c18
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0259.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0260.png b/26911-page-images/p0260.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4f51fdc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0260.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0261.png b/26911-page-images/p0261.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..75eedeb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0261.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0262.png b/26911-page-images/p0262.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..07601f7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0262.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0263.png b/26911-page-images/p0263.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8d10f3f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0263.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0264.png b/26911-page-images/p0264.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f7940b5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0264.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0265.png b/26911-page-images/p0265.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a170844
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0265.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0266.png b/26911-page-images/p0266.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a760afc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0266.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0267.png b/26911-page-images/p0267.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5e73e1b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0267.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0268.png b/26911-page-images/p0268.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ebfef13
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0268.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0269.png b/26911-page-images/p0269.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1303cc1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0269.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0270.png b/26911-page-images/p0270.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..90cbae9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0270.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0271.png b/26911-page-images/p0271.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ebce273
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0271.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0272.png b/26911-page-images/p0272.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f9c5ddf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0272.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0273.png b/26911-page-images/p0273.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3219844
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0273.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0274.png b/26911-page-images/p0274.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4a836ec
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0274.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0275.png b/26911-page-images/p0275.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5f11827
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0275.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0276.png b/26911-page-images/p0276.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b83bdbf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0276.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0277.png b/26911-page-images/p0277.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d210bc6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0277.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0278.png b/26911-page-images/p0278.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dba74e1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0278.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0279.png b/26911-page-images/p0279.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2df9182
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0279.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0280.png b/26911-page-images/p0280.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2aede25
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0280.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0281.png b/26911-page-images/p0281.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..652bc21
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0281.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0282.png b/26911-page-images/p0282.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..41c4604
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0282.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0283.png b/26911-page-images/p0283.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8aecc1b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0283.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0284.png b/26911-page-images/p0284.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1f02be5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0284.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0285.png b/26911-page-images/p0285.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..760d10a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0285.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0286.png b/26911-page-images/p0286.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cb6e76c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0286.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0287.png b/26911-page-images/p0287.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7caa495
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0287.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0288.png b/26911-page-images/p0288.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ad5a70f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0288.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0289.png b/26911-page-images/p0289.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c6500ee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0289.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0290.png b/26911-page-images/p0290.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..51c638a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0290.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0291.png b/26911-page-images/p0291.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..056e14e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0291.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0292.png b/26911-page-images/p0292.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0c46ee2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0292.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0293.png b/26911-page-images/p0293.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..239af4c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0293.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0294.png b/26911-page-images/p0294.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e4f1e6c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0294.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0295.png b/26911-page-images/p0295.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c8c4aa0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0295.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0296.png b/26911-page-images/p0296.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..08a4244
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0296.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0297.png b/26911-page-images/p0297.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c255bd9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0297.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0298.png b/26911-page-images/p0298.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bfdbe0d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0298.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0299.png b/26911-page-images/p0299.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a63d22d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0299.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0300.png b/26911-page-images/p0300.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c8f2415
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0300.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0301.png b/26911-page-images/p0301.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..00c8777
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0301.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0302.png b/26911-page-images/p0302.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9e3437b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0302.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0303.png b/26911-page-images/p0303.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f429e6e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0303.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0304.png b/26911-page-images/p0304.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b2fad10
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0304.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0305.png b/26911-page-images/p0305.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..244ecab
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0305.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0306.png b/26911-page-images/p0306.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..18d4cc8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0306.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0307.png b/26911-page-images/p0307.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fb52de4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0307.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0308.png b/26911-page-images/p0308.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cd814dd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0308.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0309.png b/26911-page-images/p0309.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bb19e92
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0309.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0310.png b/26911-page-images/p0310.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c548308
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0310.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0311.png b/26911-page-images/p0311.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cff6dfa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0311.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0312.png b/26911-page-images/p0312.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9ad3f4a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0312.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0313.png b/26911-page-images/p0313.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d293ec0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0313.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0314.png b/26911-page-images/p0314.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..45c99a1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0314.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0315.png b/26911-page-images/p0315.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..96e0a8f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0315.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0316.png b/26911-page-images/p0316.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8e2672a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0316.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0317.png b/26911-page-images/p0317.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..834e7a9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0317.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0318.png b/26911-page-images/p0318.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3d9c3c4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0318.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0319.png b/26911-page-images/p0319.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..628dd11
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0319.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0320.png b/26911-page-images/p0320.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0e1808a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0320.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0321.png b/26911-page-images/p0321.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c0a7bb5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0321.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0322.png b/26911-page-images/p0322.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..72b4e1a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0322.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0323.png b/26911-page-images/p0323.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..73780c8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0323.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0324.png b/26911-page-images/p0324.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..78ed3e7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0324.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0325.png b/26911-page-images/p0325.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4aca2b8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0325.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0326.png b/26911-page-images/p0326.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7a6492f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0326.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0327.png b/26911-page-images/p0327.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..510dbed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0327.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0328.png b/26911-page-images/p0328.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7dce42b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0328.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0329.png b/26911-page-images/p0329.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ca8a088
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0329.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0330.png b/26911-page-images/p0330.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c738a1c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0330.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0331.png b/26911-page-images/p0331.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b13ee80
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0331.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0332.png b/26911-page-images/p0332.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..05ac92a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0332.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0333.png b/26911-page-images/p0333.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a46328c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0333.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0334.png b/26911-page-images/p0334.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2e304fa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0334.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0335.png b/26911-page-images/p0335.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7c7298c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0335.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0336.png b/26911-page-images/p0336.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2abf721
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0336.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0337.png b/26911-page-images/p0337.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bca4135
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0337.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0338.png b/26911-page-images/p0338.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8230344
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0338.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/p0339.png b/26911-page-images/p0339.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..15afbd4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/p0339.png
diff --git a/26911-page-images/q0001.png b/26911-page-images/q0001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..74fff97
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911-page-images/q0001.png
diff --git a/26911.txt b/26911.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..50f1969
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,9406 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Crooked Trails and Straight, by
+William MacLeod Raine and D. C. Hutchison
+
+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: Crooked Trails and Straight
+
+Author: William MacLeod Raine
+        D. C. Hutchison
+
+Release Date: October 13, 2008 [EBook #26911]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THIS SLENDER GIRL DUMFOUNDED THEM _Frontispiece Page 41_]
+
+
+
+
+CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT
+
+BY
+WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE
+
+AUTHOR OF
+BRAND BLOTTERS, BUCKY O'CONNOR, MAVERICKS,
+WYOMING, RIDGWAY OF MONTANA, A TEXAS RANGER, etc.
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS BY
+D. C. HUTCHISON
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+PUBLISHERS--NEW YORK
+
+Made in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+Copyright, 1913, by
+G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
+
+Crooked Trails and Straight
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+PART I
+
+CURLY
+
+CHAPTER                                               PAGE
+     I.  Following a Crooked Trail                       9
+    II.  Camping with Old Man Trouble                   23
+   III.  At the End of the Road                         33
+    IV.  The Cullisons                                  49
+     V.  Laura London                                   60
+    VI.  A Bear Trap                                    74
+   VII.  Bad Medicine                                   84
+  VIII.  A Rehearsed Quarrel                            94
+    IX.  Eavesdropping                                 110
+     X.  "Stick to Your Saddle"                        131
+
+PART II
+
+LUCK
+
+     I.  At the Round Up Club                          143
+    II.  Luck Meets an Old Acquaintance                151
+   III.  An Initialed Hat                              157
+    IV.  Kate Uses Her Quirt                           169
+     V.  "Ain't She the Gamest Little Thoroughbred?"   178
+    VI.  Two Hats On A Rack                            194
+   VII.  Anonymous Letters                             200
+  VIII.  A Message in Cipher                           213
+    IX.  "The Friends of L. C. Serve Notice"           220
+     X.  Cass Fendrick Makes a Call                    233
+    XI.  A Compromise                                  245
+   XII.  An Arrest                                     254
+  XIII.  A Conversation                                265
+   XIV.  A Touch of the Third Degree                   270
+    XV.  Bob Takes a Hand                              282
+   XVI.  A Clean Up                                    294
+  XVII.  The Prodigal Son                              312
+ XVIII.  Cutting Trail                                 316
+   XIX.  A Good Samaritan                              323
+    XX.  Loose Threads                                 337
+
+
+
+
+CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT
+
+PART I
+
+CURLY
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+FOLLOWING A CROOKED TRAIL
+
+
+Across Dry Valley a dust cloud had been moving for hours. It rolled into
+Saguache at the brisk heels of a bunch of horses just about the time the
+town was settling itself to supper. At the intersection of Main and La
+Junta streets the cloud was churned to a greater volume and density. From
+out of the heart of it cantered a rider, who swung his pony as on a half
+dollar, and deflected the remuda toward Chunn's corral.
+
+The rider was in the broad-rimmed felt hat, the gray shirt, the plain
+leather chaps of a vaquero. The alkali dust of Arizona lay thick on every
+exposed inch of him, but youth bloomed inextinguishably through the grime.
+As he swept forward with a whoop to turn the lead horses it rang in his
+voice, announced itself in his carriage, was apparent in the modeling of
+his slim, hard body. Under other conditions he might have been a college
+freshman for age, but the competent confidence of manhood sat easily on
+his broad shoulders. He was already a graduate of that school of
+experience which always holds open session on the baked desert. Curly
+Flandrau had more than once looked into the chill eyes of death.
+
+The leaders of the herd dribbled into the corral through the open gate,
+and the others crowded on their heels. Three more riders followed Curly
+into the enclosure. Upon them, too, the desert had sifted its white coat.
+The stained withers of the animals they rode told of long, steady travel.
+One of them, a red-haired young fellow of about the same age as Curly,
+swung stiffly from the saddle.
+
+"Me for a square meal first off," he gave out promptly.
+
+"Not till we've finished this business, Mac. We'll put a deal right
+through if Warren's here," decided a third member of the party. He was a
+tough-looking customer of nearly fifty. From out of his leathery
+sun-and-wind beaten face, hard eyes looked without expression. "Bad Bill"
+Cranston he was called, and the man looked as if he had earned his
+sobriquet.
+
+"And what if he ain't here?" snarled the fourth. "Are you aiming to sit
+down and wait for him?"
+
+"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Bad Bill answered. "Curly,
+want to ride up to the hotel and ask if Mr. Dave Warren is there? Bring
+him right down if he is."
+
+"And say, young fellow, don't shout all over the place what your business
+is with him," ordered the previous speaker sulkily. Lute Blackwell, a
+squat heavily muscled man of forty, had the manner of a bully. Unless his
+shifty eyes lied he was both cruel and vindictive.
+
+Curly's gaze traveled over him leisurely. Not a muscle in the boyish face
+moved, but in the voice one might have guessed an amused contempt. "All
+right. I won't, since you mention it, Lute."
+
+The young man cantered up the dusty street toward the hotel. Blackwell
+trailed toward the windmill pump.
+
+"Thought you'd fixed it with this Warren to be right on the spot so's we
+could unload on him prompt," he grumbled at Cranston without looking
+toward the latter.
+
+"I didn't promise he'd be hanging round your neck soon as you hit town,"
+Cranston retorted coolly. "Keep your shirt on, Lute. No use getting in a
+sweat."
+
+The owner of the corral sauntered from the stable and glanced over the
+bunch of horses milling around.
+
+"Been traveling some," he suggested to Bad Bill.
+
+"A few. Seen anything of a man named Warren about town to-day?"
+
+"He's been down here se-ve-re-al times. Said he was looking for a party
+with stock to sell. Might you be the outfit he's expecting?"
+
+"We might." Bad Bill took the drinking cup from Blackwell and drained it.
+"I reckon the dust was caked in my throat an inch deep."
+
+"Drive all the way from the Bar Double M?" asked the keeper of the corral,
+his eyes on the brand stamped on the flank of a pony circling past.
+
+"Yep."
+
+Bad Bill turned away and began to unsaddle. He did not intend to volunteer
+any information, though on the other hand he did not want to stir
+suspicion by making a mystery for gossips to chew on.
+
+"Looks like you been hitting the road at a right lively gait."
+
+Mac cut in. "Shoulder of my bronc's chafed from the saddle. Got anything
+that'll heal it?"
+
+"You bet I have." The man hurried into the stable and the redheaded
+cowpuncher winked across the back of his horse at Bill.
+
+The keeper of the stable and the young man were still busy doctoring the
+sore when Curly arrived with Warren. The buyer was a roundbodied man with
+black gimlet eyes that saw much he never told. The bargain he drove was a
+hard one, but it did not take long to come to terms at about one-third the
+value of the string he was purchasing. Very likely he had his suspicions,
+but he did not voice them. No doubt they cut a figure in the price. He let
+it be understood that he was a supply agent for the rebels in Mexico.
+Before the bills were warm in the pockets of the sellers, his vaqueros
+were mounted and were moving the remuda toward the border.
+
+Curly and Mac helped them get started. As they rode back to the corral a
+young man came out from the stable. Flandrau forgot that there were
+reasons why he wanted just now to be a stranger in the land with his
+identity not advertised. He let out a shout.
+
+"Oh you, Slats Davis!"
+
+"Hello, Curly! How are things a-comin'?"
+
+"Fine. When did you blow in to Saguache? Ain't you off your run some?"
+
+They had ridden the range together and had frolicked around on a dozen
+boyish larks. Their ways had suited each other and they had been a good
+deal more than casual bunkies. To put it mildly the meeting was likely to
+prove embarrassing.
+
+"Came down to see about getting some cows for the old man from the
+Fiddleback outfit," Davis explained. "Didn't expect to bump into friends
+'way down here. You riding for the Bar Double M?"
+
+There was a momentary silence. Curly's vigilant eyes met those of his old
+side partner. What did Slats know? Had he been in the stable while the
+remuda was still in the corral? Had he seen them with Bad Bill and
+Blackwell? Were his suspicions already active?
+
+"No, I'm riding for the Map of Texas," Flandrau answered evenly.
+
+"Come on, Curly. Let's go feed our faces," Mac called from the stable.
+
+Flandrau nodded. "You still with the Hashknife?" he asked Davis.
+
+"Still with 'em. I've been raised to assistant foreman."
+
+"Bully for you. That's great. All right, Mac. I'm coming. That's sure
+great, old hoss. Well, see you later, Slats."
+
+Flandrau followed Mac, dissatisfied with himself for leaving his friend so
+cavalierly. In the old days they had told each other everything, had
+talked things out together before many a campfire. He guessed Slats would
+be hurt, but he had to think of his partners in this enterprise.
+
+After supper they took a room at the hotel and divided the money Warren
+had paid for the horses. None of them had slept for the last fifty hours
+and Mac proposed to tumble into bed at once.
+
+Bad Bill shook his head. "I wouldn't, Mac. Let's hit the trail and do our
+sleeping in the hills. There's too many telephone lines into this town to
+suit me."
+
+"Sho! We made a clean getaway, and we're plumb wore out. Our play isn't to
+hike out like we were scared stiff of something. What we want to do is to
+act as if we could look every darned citizen in the face. Mac's sure
+right," Curly agreed.
+
+"You kids make me tired. As if you knew anything about it. I'm going to
+dust _muy pronto_," Blackwell snarled.
+
+"Sure. Whenever you like. You go and we'll stay. Then everybody'll be
+satisfied. We got to split up anyhow," Mac said.
+
+Bad Bill looked at Blackwell and nodded. "That's right. We don't all want
+to pull a blue streak. That would be a dead give away. Let the kids stay
+if they want to."
+
+"So as they can round on us if they're nabbed," Blackwell sneered.
+
+Cranston called him down roughly. "That'll be enough along that line,
+Lute. I don't stand for any more cracks like it."
+
+Blackwell, not three months out from the penitentiary, faced the other
+with an ugly look in his eyes. He was always ready to quarrel, but he did
+not like to fight unless he had a sure thing. He knew Bad Bill was an ugly
+customer when he once got started.
+
+"Didn't mean any harm," the ex-convict growled. "But I don't like this
+sticking around town. I tell you straight I don't like it."
+
+"Then I wouldn't stay if I were you," Curly suggested promptly. "Mac and I
+have got a different notion. So we'll tie to Saguache for a day or two."
+
+As soon as the older men had gone the others tumbled into bed and fell
+asleep at once. Daylight was sifting in through the open window before
+their eyes opened. Somebody was pounding on the bedroom door, which
+probably accounted for Flandrau's dream that a sheriff was driving nails
+in the lid of a coffin containing one Curly.
+
+Mac was already out of bed when his partner's feet hit the floor.
+
+"What's up, Mac?"
+
+The eyes of the redheaded puncher gleamed with excitement. His six-gun was
+in his hand. By the look of him he was about ready to whang loose through
+the door.
+
+"Hold your horses, you chump," Curly sang out "It's the hotel clerk. I
+left a call with him."
+
+But it was not the hotel clerk after all. Through the door came a quick,
+jerky voice.
+
+"That you, Curly? For God's sake, let me in."
+
+Before he had got the words out the door was open. Slats came in and shut
+it behind him. He looked at Mac, the forty-five shaking in the boy's hand,
+and he looked at Flandrau.
+
+"They're after you," he said, breathing fast as if he had been running.
+
+"Who?" fired Curly back at him.
+
+"The Bar Double M boys. They just reached town."
+
+"Put up that gun, Mac, and move into your clothes immediate," ordered
+Curly. Then to Davis: "Go on. Unload the rest. What do they know?"
+
+"They inquired for you and your friend here down at the Legal Tender. The
+other members of your party they could only guess at."
+
+"Have we got a chance to make our getaway?" Mac asked.
+
+Davis nodded. "Slide out through the kitchen, cut into the alley, and
+across lots to the corral. We'll lock the door and I'll hold them here
+long as I can."
+
+"Good boy, Slats. If there's a necktie party you'll get the first bid,"
+Curly grinned.
+
+Slats looked at him, cold and steady. Plainer than words he was telling
+his former friend that he would not joke with a horse thief. For the sake
+of old times he would save him if he could, but he would call any bluffs
+about the whole thing being a lark.
+
+Curly's eyes fell away. It came to him for the first time that he was no
+longer an honest man. Up till this escapade he had been only wild, but now
+he had crossed the line that separates decent folks from outlaws. He had
+been excited with liquor when he joined in this fool enterprise, but that
+made no difference now. He was a rustler, a horse thief. If he lived a
+hundred years he could never get away from the disgrace of it.
+
+Not another word was said while they hurried into their clothes. But as
+Curly passed out of the door he called back huskily. "Won't forget what
+you done for us, Slats."
+
+Again their eyes met. Davis did not speak, but the chill look on his face
+told Flandrau that he had lost a friend.
+
+The two young men ran down the back stairs, passed through the kitchen
+where a Chinese cook was getting breakfast, and out into the bright
+sunlight. Before they cut across to the corral their eyes searched for
+enemies. Nobody was in sight except the negro janitor of a saloon busy
+putting empty bottles into a barrel.
+
+"Won't do to be in any hurry. The play is we're gentlemen of leisure, just
+out for an amble to get the mo'ning air," Curly cautioned.
+
+While they fed, watered, and saddled they swapped gossip with the
+wrangler. It would not do to leave the boy with a story of two riders in
+such a hurry to hit the trail that they could not wait to feed their
+bronchos. So they stuck it out while the animals ate, though they were
+about as contented as a two-pound rainbow trout on a hook. One of them was
+at the door all the time to make sure the way was still clear. At that
+they shaved it fine, for as they rode away two men were coming down the
+street.
+
+"Kite Bonfils," Curly called to his partner.
+
+No explanation was needed. Bonfils was the foreman of the Bar Double M. He
+let out a shout as he caught sight of them and began to run forward.
+Simultaneously his gun seemed to jump from its holster.
+
+Mac's quirt sang and his pony leaped to a canter in two strides. A bullet
+zipped between them. Another struck the dust at their heels. Faintly there
+came to the fugitives the sound of the foreman's impotent curses. They had
+escaped for the time.
+
+Presently they passed the last barb wire fence and open country lay before
+them. It did not greatly matter which direction they followed, so long as
+they headed into the desert.
+
+"What we're looking for is a country filled with absentees," Curly
+explained with a grin.
+
+Neither of them had ever been in serious trouble before and both regretted
+the folly that had turned their drunken spree into a crime. Once or twice
+they came to the edge of a quarrel, for Mac was ready to lay the blame on
+his companion. Moreover, he had reasons why the thing he had done loomed
+up as a heinous offense.
+
+His reasons came out before the camp fire on Dry Sandy that evening. They
+were stretched in front of it trying to make a smoke serve instead of
+supper. Mac broke a gloomy silence to grunt out jerkily a situation he
+could no longer keep to himself.
+
+"Here's where I get my walking papers I reckon. No rustlers need apply."
+
+Curly shot a slant glance at him. "Meaning--the girl?"
+
+The redheaded puncher nodded. "She'll throw me down sure. Why shouldn't
+she? I tell you I've ruined my life. You're only a kid. What you know
+about it?"
+
+He took from his coat pocket a photograph and showed it to his friend. The
+sweet clean face of a wholesome girl smiled at Curly.
+
+"She's ce'tainly a right nice young lady. I'll bet she stands by you all
+right. Where's she live at?"
+
+"Waits in a restaurant at Tombstone. We was going to be married soon as we
+had saved five hundred dollars." Mac swallowed hard. "And I had to figure
+out this short cut to the money whilst I was drunk. As if she'd look at
+money made that way. Why, we'd a-been ready by Christmas if I'd only
+waited."
+
+Curly tried to cheer him up, but did not make much of a job at it. The
+indisputable facts were that Mac was an outlaw and a horse thief. Very
+likely a price was already on his head.
+
+The redheaded boy rolled another cigarette despondently. "Sho! I've cooked
+my goose. She'll not look at me--even if they don't send me to the pen."
+In a moment he added huskily, staring into the deepening darkness: "And
+she's the best ever. Her name's Myra Anderson."
+
+Abruptly Mac got up and disappeared in the night, muttering something
+about looking after the horses. His partner understood well enough what
+was the matter. The redheaded puncher was in a stress of emotion, and like
+the boy he was he did not want Curly to know it.
+
+Flandrau pretended to be asleep when Mac returned half an hour later.
+
+They slept under a live oak with the soundness of healthy youth. For the
+time they forgot their troubles. Neither of them knew that as the hours
+slipped away red tragedy was galloping closer to them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+CAMPING WITH OLD MAN TROUBLE
+
+
+The sun was shining in his face when Curly wakened. He sat up and rubbed
+his eyes. Mac was nowhere in sight. Probably he had gone to get the
+horses.
+
+A sound broke the stillness of the desert. It might have been the
+explosion of a giant firecracker, but Flandrau knew it was nothing so
+harmless. He leaped to his feet, and at the same instant Mac came running
+over the brow of the hill. A smoking revolver was in his hand.
+
+From behind the hill a gun cracked--then a second--and a third. Mac
+stumbled over his feet and pitched forward full length on the ground. His
+friend ran toward him, forgetting the revolver that lay in its holster
+under the live oak. Every moment he expected to see Mac jump up, but the
+figure stretched beside the cholla never moved. Flandrau felt the muscles
+round his heart tighten. He had seen sudden death before, but never had it
+come so near home.
+
+A bullet sent up a spurt of dust in front of him, another just on the
+left. Riders were making a half circle around the knoll and closing in on
+him. In his right mind Curly would have been properly frightened. But now
+he thought only of Mac lying there so still in the sand. Right into the
+fire zone he ran, knelt beside his partner, and lifted the red-thatched
+head. A little hole showed back of the left ear and another at the right
+temple. A bullet had plowed through the boy's skull.
+
+Softly Flandrau put the head back in the sand and rose to his feet. The
+revolver of the dead puncher was in his hand. The attackers had stopped
+shooting, but when they saw him rise a rifle puffed once more. The riders
+were closing in on him now. The nearest called to him to surrender. Almost
+at the same time a red hot pain shot through the left arm of the trapped
+rustler. Someone had nipped him from the rear.
+
+Curly saw red. Surrender nothing! He would go down fighting. As fast as he
+could blaze he emptied Mac's gun. When the smoke cleared the man who had
+ordered him to give up was slipping from his horse. Curly was surprised,
+but he knew he must have hit him by chance.
+
+"We got him. His gun's empty," someone shouted.
+
+Cautiously they closed in, keeping him covered all the time. Of a sudden
+the plain tilted up to meet the sky. Flandrau felt himself swaying on his
+feet. Everything went black. The boy had fainted.
+
+When he came to himself strange faces were all around him, and there were
+no bodies to go with them. They seemed to float about in an odd casual
+sort of way. Then things cleared.
+
+"He's coming to all right," one said.
+
+"Good. I'd hate to have him cheat the rope," another cried with an oath.
+
+"That's right. How is Cullison?"
+
+This was said to another who had just come up.
+
+"Hard hit. Looks about all in. Got him in the side."
+
+The rage had died out of Curly. In a flash he saw all that had come of
+their drunken spree: the rustling of the Bar Double M stock, the
+discovery, the death of his friend and maybe of Cullison, the certain
+punishment that would follow. He was a horse thief caught almost in the
+act. Perhaps he was a murderer too. And the whole thing had been entirely
+unpremeditated.
+
+Flandrau made a movement to rise and they jerked him to his feet.
+
+"You've played hell," one of the men told the boy.
+
+He was a sawed-off little fellow known as Dutch. Flandrau had seen him in
+the Map of Texas country try a year or two before. The rest were strangers
+to the boy. All of them looked at him out of hard hostile eyes. He was
+scarcely a human being to them; rather a wolf to be stamped out of
+existence as soon as it was convenient. A chill ran down Curly's spine. He
+felt as if someone were walking on his grave.
+
+At a shift in the group Flandrau's eyes fell on his friend lying in the
+sand with face turned whitely to the sky he never would see again. It came
+over him strangely enough how Mac used to break into a little chuckling
+laugh when he was amused. He had quit laughing now for good and all. A
+lump came into the boy's throat and he had to work it down before he
+spoke.
+
+"There's a picture in his pocket, and some letters I reckon. Send them to
+Miss Myra Anderson, Tombstone, care of one of the restaurants. I don't
+know which one."
+
+"Send nothin'," sneered Dutch, and coupled it with a remark no decent man
+makes of a woman on a guess.
+
+Because of poor Mac lying there with the little hole in his temple Curry
+boiled over. With a jerk his right arm was free. It shot out like a
+pile-driver, all his weight behind the blow. Dutch went down as if a
+charging bull had flung him.
+
+Almost simultaneously Curly hit the sand hard. Before he could stir three
+men were straddled over his anatomy. One of them ground his head into the
+dust.
+
+"You would, eh? We'll see about that. Jake, bring yore rope."
+
+They tied the hands of the boy, hauled him to his feet, and set him
+astride a horse. In the distance a windmill of the Circle C ranch was
+shining in the morning sun. Toward the group of buildings clustered around
+this two of his captors started with Flandrau. A third was already
+galloping toward the ranch house to telephone for a doctor.
+
+As they rode along a fenced lane which led to the house a girl came flying
+down the steps. She swung herself to the saddle just vacated by the
+messenger and pulled the horse round for a start. At sight of those coming
+toward her she called out quickly.
+
+"How is dad?" The quiver of fear broke in her voice.
+
+"Don' know yet, Miss Kate," answered one of the men. "He's right peart
+though. Says for to tell you not to worry. Don't you, either. We've got
+here the mangy son of a gun that did it."
+
+Before he had finished she was off like an arrow shot from a bow, but not
+until her eyes had fallen on the youth sitting bareheaded and bloody
+between the guns of his guard. Curly noticed that she had given a shudder,
+as one might at sight of a mangled mad dog which had just bit a dear
+friend. Long after the pounding of her pony's hoofs had died away the
+prisoner could see the startled eyes of fear and horror that had rested on
+him. As Curly kicked his foot out of the stirrup to dismount a light
+spring wagon rolled past him. In its bed were a mattress and pillows. The
+driver whipped up the horse and went across the prairie toward Dry Sandy
+Creek. Evidently he was going to bring home the wounded man.
+
+His guards put Flandrau in the bunk house and one of them sat at the door
+with a rifle across his knees. The cook, the stable boy, and redheaded Bob
+Cullison, a nephew of the owner of the ranch, peered past the _vaquero_ at
+the captive with the same awe they would have yielded to a caged panther.
+
+"Why, he's only a kid, Buck," the cook whispered.
+
+Buck chewed tobacco impassively. "Old enough to be a rustler and a
+killer."
+
+Bob's blue eyes were wide with interest "I'll bet he's a regular Billy the
+Kid," murmured the half-grown boy to the other lad.
+
+"Sure. Course he is. He's got bad eyes all right."
+
+"I'll bet he's got notches on his gun. Say, if Uncle Luck dies--" Bob left
+the result to the imagination.
+
+The excitement at the Circle C increased. Horses cantered up. Men shouted
+to each other the news. Occasionally some one came in to have a look at
+the "bad man" who had shot Luck Cullison. Young Flandrau lay on a cot and
+stared at the ceiling, paying no more attention to them than if they had
+been blocks of wood. It took no shrewdness to see that there burned in
+them a still cold anger toward him that might easily find expression in
+lynch law.
+
+The crunch of wagon wheels over disintegrated granite drifted to the bunk
+house.
+
+"They're bringing the boss back," Buck announced from the door to one of
+his visitors.
+
+The man joined him and looked over his shoulder. "Miss Kate there too?"
+
+"Yep. Say, if the old man don't pull through it will break her all up."
+
+The boy on the bed turned his face to the wall. He had not cried for ten
+years, but now he would have liked the relief of tears. The luck had
+broken bad for him, but it would be the worst ever if his random shot were
+to make Kate Cullison an orphan. A big lump rose in his throat and would
+not stay down. The irony of it was that he was staged for the part of a
+gray wolf on the howl, while he felt more like a little child that has
+lost its last friend.
+
+After a time there came again the crisp roll of wheels.
+
+"Doc Brown," announced Buck casually to the other men in the bunk house.
+
+There was more than one anxious heart at the Circle C waiting for the
+verdict of the bowlegged baldheaded little man with the satchel, but not
+one of them--no, not even Kate Cullison herself--was in a colder fear than
+Curly Flandrau. He was entitled to a deep interest, for if Cullison should
+die he knew that he would follow him within a few hours. These men would
+take no chances with the delays of the law.
+
+The men at the bunk house had offered more than once to look at Curly's
+arm, but the young man declined curtly. The bleeding had stopped, but
+there was a throb in it as if someone were twisting a red-hot knife in the
+wound. After a time Doctor Brown showed up in the doorway of the men's
+quarters.
+
+"Another patient here, they tell me," he grunted in the brusque way that
+failed to conceal the kindest of hearts.
+
+Buck nodded toward Flandrau.
+
+"Let's have a look at your arm, young fellow," the doctor ordered, mopping
+his bald head with a big bandanna handkerchief.
+
+"What about the boss?" asked Jake presently.
+
+"Mighty sick man, looks like. Tell you more to-morrow morning."
+
+"Do you mean that he--that he may not get well?" Curly pumped out, his
+voice not quite steady.
+
+Doctor Brown looked at him curiously. Somehow this boy did not fit the
+specifications of the desperado that had been poured into his ears.
+
+"Don't know yet. Won't make any promises." He had been examining the wound
+in a businesslike way. "Looks like the bullet's still in there. Have to
+give you an anesthetic while I dig it out."
+
+"Nothin' doing," retorted Flandrau. "You round up the pill in there and
+I'll stand the grief. When this lead hypodermic jabbed into my arm it
+sorter gave me one of them annie-what-d'ye-call-'em--and one's a-plenty
+for me."
+
+"It'll hurt," the little man explained.
+
+"Expect I'll find that out. Go to it."
+
+Brown had not been for thirty years carrying a medicine case across the
+dusty deserts of the frontier without learning to know men. He made no
+further protest but set to work.
+
+Twenty minutes later Curly lay back on the bunk with a sudden faintness.
+He was very white about the lips, but he had not once flinched from the
+instruments.
+
+The doctor washed his hands and his tools, pulled on his coat, and came
+across to the patient.
+
+"Feeling like a fighting cock, are you? Ready to tackle another posse?" he
+asked.
+
+"Not quite." The prisoner glanced toward his guards and his voice fell to
+a husky whisper. "Say, Doc. Pull Cullison through. Don't let him die."
+
+"Hmp! Do my best, young fellow. Seems to me you're thinking of that pretty
+late."
+
+Brown took up his medicine case and went back to the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+AT THE END OF THE ROAD
+
+
+Curly's wooden face told nothing of what he was thinking. The first
+article of the creed of the frontier is to be game. Good or bad, the last
+test of a man is the way he takes his medicine. So now young Flandrau ate
+his dinner with a hearty appetite, smoked cigarettes impassively, and
+occasionally chatted with his guards casually and as a matter of course.
+Deep within him was a terrible feeling of sickness at the disaster that
+had overwhelmed him, but he did not intend to play the quitter.
+
+Dutch and an old fellow named Sweeney relieved the other watchers about
+noon. The squat puncher came up and looked down angrily at the boy lying
+on the bunk.
+
+"I'll serve notice right now that if you make any breaks I'll fill your
+carcass full of lead," he growled.
+
+The prisoner knew that he was nursing a grudge for the blow that had
+floored him. Not to be bluffed, Curly came back with a jeer. "Much
+obliged, my sawed-off and hammered-down friend. But what's the matter with
+your face? It looks some lopsided. Did a mule kick you?"
+
+Sweeney gave his companion the laugh. "Better let him alone, Dutch. If he
+lands on you again like he did before your beauty ce'tainly will be
+spoiled complete."
+
+The little puncher's eyes snapped rage. "You'll get yours pretty soon, Mr.
+Curly Flandrau. The boys are fixin' to hang yore hide up to dry."
+
+"Does look that way, doesn't it?" the boy agreed quietly.
+
+As the day began to wear out it looked so more than ever. Two riders from
+the Bar Double M reached the ranch and were brought in to identify him as
+the horse thief. The two were Maloney and Kite Bonfils, neither of them
+friends of the young rustler. The foreman in particular was a wet blanket
+to his chances. The man's black eyes were the sort that never soften
+toward the follies and mistakes of youth.
+
+"You've got the right man all right," he said to Buck without answering
+Flandrau's cool nod of recognition.
+
+"What sort of a reputation has he got?" Buck asked, lowering his voice a
+little.
+
+Kite did not take the trouble to lower his. "Bad. Always been a tough
+character. Friend of Bad Bill Cranston and Soapy Stone."
+
+Dutch chipped in. "Shot up the Silver Dollar saloon onct. Pretty near beat
+Pete Schiff's head off another time."
+
+Curly laughed rather wildly. "That's right. Keep a-coming, boys. Your turn
+now, Maloney."
+
+"All right. Might as well have it all," Buck agreed.
+
+"I don't know anything against the kid, barring that he's been a little
+wild," Maloney testified. "And I reckon we ain't any of us prize Sunday
+school winners for that matter."
+
+"Are we all friends of Soapy Stone and Bad Bill? Do we all rustle stock
+and shoot up good citizens?" Dutch shrilled.
+
+Maloney's blue Irish eyes rested on the little puncher for a moment, then
+passed on as if he had been weighed and found wanting.
+
+"I've noticed," he said to nobody in particular, "that them hollering
+loudest for justice are most generally the ones that would hate to have it
+done to them."
+
+Dutch bristled like a turkey rooster. "What do you mean by that?"
+
+The Irishman smiled derisively. "I reckon you can guess if you try real
+hard."
+
+Dutch fumed, but did no guessing out loud. His reputation was a
+whitewashed one. Queer stories had been whispered about him. He had been a
+nester, and it was claimed that calves certainly not his had been found
+carrying his brand. The man had been full of explanations, but there came
+a time when explanations no longer were accepted. He was invited to become
+an absentee at his earliest convenience. This was when he had been living
+across the mountains. Curly had been one of those who had given the
+invitation. He had taken the hint and left without delay. Now he was
+paying the debt he owed young Flandrau.
+
+Though the role Curly had been given was that of the hardened desperado he
+could not quite live up to the part. As Buck turned to leave the bunk
+house the boy touched him on the arm.
+
+"How about Cullison?" he asked, very low.
+
+But Buck would not have it that way. "What about him?" he demanded out
+load, his voice grating like steel when it grinds.
+
+"Is he--how is he doing?"
+
+"What's eatin' you? Ain't he dying fast enough to suit you?"
+
+Flandrau shrank from the cruel words, as a schoolboy does from his teacher
+when he jumps at him with a cane. He understood how the men were feeling,
+but to have it put into words like this cut him deeply.
+
+It was then that Maloney made a friend of the young man for life. He let a
+hand drop carelessly on Curly's shoulder and looked at him with a friendly
+smile in his eyes, just as if he knew that this was no wolf but a poor
+lost dog up against it hard.
+
+"Doc thinks he'll make it all right."
+
+But there were times when Curly wondered whether it would make any
+difference to him whether Cullison got well or not. Something immediate
+was in the air. Public opinion was sifting down to a decision. There were
+wise nods, and whisperings, and men riding up and going off again in a
+hurry. There had been a good deal of lawlessness of late, for which Soapy
+Stone's band of followers was held responsible. Just as plainly as if he
+had heard the arguments of Dutch and Kite Bonfils he knew that they were
+urging the others to make an example of him. Most of these men were well
+up to the average for the milk of human kindness. They were the squarest
+citizens in Arizona. But Flandrau knew they would snuff out his life just
+the same if they decided it was best. Afterward they might regret it, but
+that would not help him.
+
+Darkness came, and the lamps were lit. Again Curly ate and smoked and
+chatted a little with his captors. But as he sat there hour after hour,
+feeling death creep closer every minute, cold shivers ran up and down his
+spine.
+
+They began to question him, at first casually and carelessly, so it seemed
+to Curly. But presently he discerned a drift in the talk. They were trying
+to find out who had been his partners in the rustling.
+
+"And I reckon Soapy and Bad Bill left you lads at Saguache to hold the
+sack," Buck suggested sympathetically.
+
+Curly grew wary. He did not intend to betray his accomplices. "Wrong
+guess. Soapy and Bad Bill weren't in this deal," he answered easily.
+
+"We know there were two others in it with you. I guess they were Soapy and
+Bad Bill all right."
+
+"There's no law against guessing."
+
+The foreman of the Bar Double M interrupted impatiently, tired of trying
+to pump out the information by finesse. "You've got to speak, Flandrau.
+You've got to tell us who was engineering this theft. Understand?"
+
+The young rustler looked at the grim frowning face and his heart sank.
+"Got to tell you, have I?"
+
+"That's what?"
+
+"Out with it," ordered Buck.
+
+"Oh, I expect I'll keep that under my hat," Curly told them lightly.
+
+They were crowded about him in a half circle, nearly a score of hard
+leather-faced plainsmen. Some of them were riders of the Circle C outfit.
+Others had ridden over from neighboring ranches. All of them plainly meant
+business. They meant to stamp out rustling, and their determination had
+been given an edge by the wounding of Luck Cullison, the most popular man
+in the county.
+
+"Think again, Curly," advised Sweeney quietly. "The boys ain't trifling
+about this thing. They mean to find out who was in the rustling of the Bar
+Double M stock."
+
+"Not through me, they won't."
+
+"Through you. And right now."
+
+A dozen times during the evening Curly had crushed down the desire to beg
+for mercy, to cry out desperately for them to let him off. He had kept
+telling himself not to show yellow, that it would not last long. Now the
+fear of breaking down sloughed from his soul. He rose from the bed and
+looked round at the brown faces circled about him in the shine of the
+lamps.
+
+"I'll not tell you a thing--not a thing."
+
+He stood there chalk-faced, his lips so dry that he had to keep moistening
+them with the tip of his tongue. Two thoughts hammered in his head. One
+was that he had come to the end of his trail, the other that he would game
+it out without weakening.
+
+Dutch had a new rope in his hand with a loop at one end. He tossed it over
+the boy's head and drew it taut. Two or three of the faces in the circle
+were almost as bloodless as that of the prisoner, but they were set to see
+the thing out.
+
+"Will you tell now?" Bonfils asked.
+
+Curly met him eye to eye. "No."
+
+"Come along then."
+
+One of the men caught his arm at the place where he had been wounded. The
+rustler flinched.
+
+"Careful, Buck. Don't you see you're hurting his bad arm?" Sweeney said
+sharply.
+
+"Sure. Take him right under the shoulder."
+
+"There's no call to be rough with him."
+
+"I didn't aim to hurt him," Buck defended himself.
+
+His grip was loose and easy now. Like the others he was making it up to
+his conscience for what he meant to do by doing it in the kindest way
+possible.
+
+Curly's senses had never been more alert. He noticed that Buck had on a
+red necktie that had got loose from his shirt and climbed up his neck. It
+had black polka dots and was badly frayed. Sweeney was chewing tobacco. He
+would have that chew in his mouth after they had finished what they were
+going to do.
+
+"Ain't he the gamest ever?" someone whispered.
+
+The rustler heard the words and they braced him as a drink of whiskey does
+a man who has been on a bad spree. His heart was chill with fear, but he
+had strung his will not to let him give way.
+
+"Better do it at the cottonwoods down by the creek," Buck told Bonfils in
+a low voice.
+
+The foreman of the Bar Double M moved his head in assent. "All right.
+Let's get it over quick as we can."
+
+A sound of flying feet came from outside. Someone smothered an oath of
+surprise. Kate Cullison stood in the doorway, all out of breath and
+panting.
+
+She took the situation in before she spoke, guessed exactly what they
+intended to do. Yet she flung her imperious question at them.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+They had not a word to say for themselves. In that room were some of the
+most callous hearts in the territory. Not one man in a million could have
+phased them, but this slender girl dumfounded them. Her gaze settled on
+Buck. His wandered for help to Sweeney, to Jake, to Kite Bonfils.
+
+"Now look-a-here, Miss Kate," Sweeney began to explain.
+
+But she swept his remonstrance aside.
+
+"No--No--No!" Her voice gathered strength with each repetition of the
+word. "I won't have it. What are you thinking about?"
+
+To the boy with the rope around his neck she was an angel from heaven as
+she stood there so slim and straight, her dark eyes shining like stars.
+Some of these men were old enough to be her father. Any of them could have
+crushed her with one hand. But if a thunderbolt had crashed in their midst
+it could not have disturbed the vigilantes more.
+
+"He's a rustler, Miss Kate; belongs to Soapy Stone's outfit," Sweeney
+answered the girl.
+
+"Can you prove it?"
+
+"We got him double cinched."
+
+"Then let the law put him in prison."
+
+"He shot yore paw," Buck reminded her.
+
+"Is that why you're doing it?"
+
+"Yes'm," and "That's why," they nodded.
+
+Like a flash she took advantage of their admission. "Then I've got more
+against him than you have, and I say turn him over to the law."
+
+"He'd get a good lawyer and wiggle out," Dutch objected.
+
+She whirled on the little puncher. "You know how that is, do you?"
+
+Somebody laughed. It was known that Dutch had once been tried for stealing
+a sheep and had been acquitted.
+
+Kite pushed forward, rough and overbearing. "Now see here. We know what
+we're doing and we know why we're doing it. This ain't any business for a
+girl to mix in. You go back to the house and nurse your father that this
+man shot."
+
+"So it isn't the kind of business for a girl," she answered
+scornfully. "It's work for a man, isn't it? No, not for one. For
+nine--eleven--thirteen--seventeen big brave strong men to hang one poor
+wounded boy."
+
+Again that amused laugh rippled out. It came from Maloney. He was leaning
+against the door jamb with his hands in his pockets. Nobody had noticed
+him before. He had come in after the girl. When Curly came to think it
+over later, if he had been given three guesses as to who had told Kate
+Cullison what was on the program he would have guessed Maloney each time.
+
+"Now that you've relieved your mind proper, Miss Cullison, I expect any of
+the boys will be glad to escort you back to the house," Kite suggested
+with an acid smile.
+
+"What have you got to do with this?" she flamed. "Our boys took him. They
+brought him here as their prisoner. Do you think we'll let you come over
+into this county and dictate everything we do?"
+
+"I've got a notion tucked away that you're trying to do the dictating your
+own self," the Bar Double M man contradicted.
+
+"I'm not. But I won't stand by while you get these boys to do murder. If
+they haven't sense enough to keep them from it I've got to stop it
+myself."
+
+Kite laughed sarcastically. "You hear your boss, boys."
+
+"You've had yore say now, Miss Kate. I reckon you better say good-night,"
+advised Buck.
+
+She handed Buck and his friends her compliments in a swift flow of
+feminine ferocity.
+
+Maloney pushed into the circle. "She's dead right, boys. There's nothing
+to this lynching game. He's only a kid."
+
+"He's not such a kid but what he can do murder," Dutch spat out.
+
+Kate read him the riot act so sharply that the little puncher had not
+another word to say. The tide of opinion was shifting. Those who had been
+worked up to the lynching by the arguments of Bonfils began to resent his
+activity. Flandrau was their prisoner, wasn't he? No use going off half
+cocked. Some of them were discovering that they were not half so anxious
+to hang him as they had supposed.
+
+The girl turned to her friends and neighbors. "I oughtn't to have talked
+to you that way, but you know how worried I am about Dad," she apologized
+with a catch in her breath. "I'm sure you didn't think or you would never
+have done anything to trouble me more just now. You know I didn't half
+mean it." She looked from one to another, her eyes shiny with tears. "I
+know that no braver or kinder men live than you. Why, you're my folks.
+I've been brought up among you. And so you've got to forgive me."
+
+Some said "Sure," others told her to forget it, and one grass widower drew
+a laugh by saying that her little spiel reminded him of happier days.
+
+For the first time a smile lit her face. The boy for whose life she was
+pleading thought it was like sunshine after a storm.
+
+"I'm so glad you've changed your minds. I knew you would when you thought
+it over," she told them chattily and confidentially.
+
+She was taking their assent for granted. Now she waited and gave them a
+chance to chorus their agreement. None of them spoke except Maloney. Most
+of them were with her in sympathy but none wanted to be first in giving
+way. Each wanted to save his face, so that the others could not later
+blame him for quitting first.
+
+She looked around from one to another, still cheerful and sure of her
+ground apparently. Two steps brought her directly in front of one. She
+caught him by the lapels of his coat and looked straight into his eyes.
+"You _have_ changed your mind, haven't you, Jake?"
+
+The big Missourian twisted his hat in embarrassment. "I reckon I have,
+Miss Kate. Whatever the other boys say," he got out at last.
+
+"Haven't you a mind of your own, Jake?"
+
+"Sure. Whatever's right suits me."
+
+"Well, you know what is right, don't you?"
+
+"I expect."
+
+"Then you won't hurt this man, our prisoner?"
+
+"I haven't a thing against him if you haven't."
+
+"Then you won't hurt him? You won't stand by and let the other boys do
+it?"
+
+"Now, Miss Kate--"
+
+She burst into sudden tears. "I thought you were my friend, but now I'm in
+trouble you--you think only of making it worse. I'm worried to death about
+Dad--and you--you make me stay here--away from him--and torment me."
+
+Jake gave in immediately and the rest followed like a flock of sheep. Two
+or three of the promises came hard, but she did not stop till each one
+individually had pledged himself. And all the time she was cajoling them,
+explaining how good it was of them to think of avenging her father, how in
+one way she did not blame them at all, though of course they had seen it
+would not do as soon as they gave the matter a second thought. Dad would
+be so pleased at them when he heard about it, and she wanted them to know
+how much she liked and admired them. It was quite a love feast.
+
+The young man she had saved could not keep his eyes from her. He would
+have liked to kneel down and kiss the edge of her dress and put his curly
+head in the dust before her. The ice in his heart had melted in the warmth
+of a great emotion. She was standing close to him talking to Buck when he
+spoke in a low voice.
+
+"I reckon I can't tell you--how much I'm obliged to you, Miss."
+
+She drew back quickly as if he had been a snake about to strike, her hand
+instinctively gathering her skirts so that they would not brush against
+him.
+
+"I don't want your thanks," she told him, and her voice was like the
+drench of an icy wave.
+
+But when she saw the hurt in his eyes she hesitated. Perhaps she guessed
+that he was human after all, for an impulse carried her forward to take
+the rope from his neck. While his heart beat twice her soft fingers
+touched his throat and grazed his cheek. Then she turned and was gone from
+the room.
+
+It was a long time before the bunk house quieted. Curly, faint with
+weariness, lay down and tried to sleep. His arm was paining a good deal
+and he felt feverish. The men of the Circle C and their guests sat down
+and argued the whole thing over. But after a time the doctor came in and
+had the patient carried to the house. He was put in a good clean bed and
+his arm dressed again.
+
+The doctor brought him good news. "Cullison is doing fine. He has dropped
+into a good sleep. He'd ought to make it all right."
+
+Curly thought about the girl who had fought for his life.
+
+"You'll not let him die, Doc," he begged.
+
+"He's too tough for that, Luck Cullison is."
+
+Presently Doctor Brown gave him a sleeping powder and left him. Soon after
+that Curly fell asleep and dreamed about a slim dark girl with fine
+longlashed eyes that could be both tender and ferocious.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE CULLISONS
+
+
+Curly was awakened by the sound of the cook beating the call to breakfast
+on a triangle. Buck was standing beside the bed.
+
+"How're they coming this glad mo'ning, son?" he inquired with a grin.
+
+"Fine and dandy," grinned back Flandrau.
+
+So he was, comparatively speaking. The pain in his arm had subsided. He
+had had a good sleep. And he was lying comfortably in a clean bed instead
+of hanging by the neck from the limb of one of the big cottonwoods on the
+edge of the creek.
+
+A memory smote him and instantly he was grave again.
+
+"How is Cullison?"
+
+"Good as the wheat, doc says. Mighty lucky for Mr. C. Flandrau that he is.
+Say, I'm to be yore valley and help you into them clothes. Git a wiggle on
+you."
+
+Buck escorted his prisoner over to the ranch mess house. The others had
+finished breakfast but Maloney was still eating. His mouth was full of hot
+cakes, but he nodded across at Curly in a casual friendly way.
+
+"How's the villain in the play this mo'ning?" he inquired.
+
+Twenty-one usually looks on the cheerful side of life. Curly had forgotten
+for the moment about what had happened to his friend Mac. He did not
+remember that he was in the shadow of a penitentiary sentence. The sun was
+shining out of a deep blue sky. The vigor of youth flowed through his
+veins. He was hungry and a good breakfast was before him. For the present
+these were enough.
+
+"Me, I'm feeling a heap better than I was last night," he admitted.
+
+"Came pretty near losing him out of the cast, didn't we?"
+
+"Might a-turned out that way if the stage manager had not remembered the
+right cue in time."
+
+Curly was looking straight into the eyes twinkling across the table at
+him. Maloney knew that the young fellow was thanking him for having saved
+his life. He nodded lightly, but his words still seemed to make a jest of
+the situation.
+
+"Enter the heroine. Spotlight. Sa-a-ved," he drawled.
+
+The heart of the prisoner went out to this man who was reaching a hand to
+him in his trouble. He had always known that Maloney was true and steady
+as a snubbing post, but he had not looked for any kindness from him.
+
+"Kite just got a telephone message from Saguache," the Bar Double M man
+went on easily. "Your friends that bought the rustled stock didn't get
+away with the goods. Seems they stumbled into a bunch of _rurales_
+unexpected and had to pull their freight sudden. The boys from the ranch
+happened along about then, claimed ownership and got possession."
+
+"If the men bought the stock why didn't they stop and explain?" asked
+Buck.
+
+"That game of buying stolen cattle is worn threadbare. The _rurales_ and
+the rangers have had their eye on those border flitters for quite some
+time. So they figured it was safer to dust."
+
+"Make their getaway?" Curly inquired as indifferently as he could. But in
+spite of himself a note of eagerness crept into his voice. For if the men
+had escaped that would be two less witnesses against him.
+
+"Yep."
+
+"Too bad. If they hadn't I could have proved by them I was not one of the
+men who sold them the stock," Flandrau replied.
+
+"Like hell you could," Buck snorted, then grinned at his prisoner in a
+shamefaced way: "You're a good one, son."
+
+"Luck has been breaking bad for me, but when things are explained----"
+
+"It sure will take a lot of explaining to keep you out of the pen. You'll
+have to be slicker than Dutch was."
+
+Jake stuck his head in at the door. "Buck, you're needed to help with them
+two-year-olds. The old man wants to have a talk with the rustler. Doc says
+he may. Maloney, will you take him up to the house? I'll arrange to have
+you relieved soon as I can."
+
+Maloney had once ridden for the Circle C and was friendly with all the men
+on the place. He nodded. "Sure."
+
+A Mexican woman let them into the chamber where the wounded man lay. It
+was a large sunny southeast room with French windows opening upon a long
+porch. Kate was bending over the bed rearranging the pillows, but she
+looked up quickly when the two men entered. Her eyes were still gentle
+with the love that had been shining down from them upon her father.
+
+Cullison spoke. "Sit down, Dick." And to his prisoner: "You too."
+
+Flandrau saw close at hand for the first time the man who had been
+Arizona's most famous fighting sheriff. Luck Cullison was well-built and
+of medium height, of a dark complexion, clean shaven, wiry and muscular.
+Already past fifty, he looked not a day more than forty. One glance was
+enough to tell Curly the kind of man this was. The power of him found
+expression in the gray steel-chilled eyes that bored into the young
+outlaw. A child could have told he was not one to trifle with.
+
+"You have begun early, young fellow," he said quietly.
+
+"Begun what?" Curly asked, having nothing better to say.
+
+"You know what. But never mind that. I don't ask you to convict yourself.
+I sent for you to tell you I don't blame you for this." He touched the
+wound in his side.
+
+"Different with your boys, sir."
+
+"So the boys are a little excited, are they?"
+
+"They were last night anyhow," Curly answered, with a glimmer of a smile.
+
+Cullison looked quickly at Maloney and then at his daughter.
+
+"I'll listen to what you've been hiding from me," he told them.
+
+"Oh, the boys had notions. Miss Kate argued with them and they saw things
+different," the Bar Double M rider explained.
+
+But Cullison would not let it go at that. He made them tell him the whole
+story. When Curly and Maloney had finished he buried his daughter's little
+hand in his big brown fist. His eyes were dancing with pride, but he gave
+her not a word of spoken praise.
+
+Kate, somewhat embarrassed, changed the subject briskly. "Now you're
+talking too much, Dad. Doctor Brown said you might see him for just a few
+minutes. But you're not to tire yourself, so I'll do the talking for
+you."
+
+He took his orders with the smiling submission of the man who knows his
+mistress.
+
+Kate spoke to Curly. "Father wants me to tell you that we don't blame you
+for shooting at him. We understand just how it was. Your friend got
+excited and shot as soon as he saw he was surrounded. We are both very
+sorry he was killed. Father could not stop the boys in time. Perhaps you
+remember that he tried to get you to surrender."
+
+The rustler nodded. "Yes, I heard him holler to me to put my gun down, but
+the others blazed away at me."
+
+"And so you naturally defended yourself. That's how we understand it.
+Father wants it made clear that he feels you could have done nothing
+else."
+
+"Much obliged. I've been sorry ever since I hit him, and not only on my
+own account."
+
+"Then none of us need to hold hard feelings." The girl looked at her
+father, who answered her appeal with a grim nod, and then she turned again
+to the young rustler a little timidly. "I wonder if you would mind if I
+asked you a question."
+
+"You've earned the right to ask as many as you like."
+
+"It's about---- We have been told you know the man they call Soapy Stone.
+Is that true?"
+
+Flandrau's eyes took on a stony look. It was as if something had sponged
+all the boyishness from his face. Still trying to get him to give away his
+partners in the rustling, were they? Well, he would show them he could
+take his medicine without squealing.
+
+"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't."
+
+"Oh, but you don't see what we mean. It isn't that we want to hurt you."
+She spoke in a quick eager voice of protest.
+
+"No, you just want me to squeal on my friends to save my own hide. Nothing
+doing, Miss Cullison."
+
+"No. You're wrong. Why are you so suspicious?"
+
+Curly laughed bitterly. "Your boys were asking that question about Soapy
+last night. They had a rope round my neck at the time. Nothing unfriendly
+in the matter, of course. Just a casual interest in my doings."
+
+Cullison was looking at him with the steel eyes that bored into him like a
+gimlet. Now he spoke sharply.
+
+"I've got an account running with Soapy Stone. Some day I'll settle it
+likely. But that ain't the point now. Do you know his friends--the bunch
+he trails with?"
+
+Wariness still seemed to crouch in the cool eyes of Flandrau.
+
+"And if I say yes, I'll bet your next question will be about the time and
+the place I last saw them."
+
+Kate picked up a photograph from the table and handed it to the prisoner.
+"We're not interested in his friends--except one of them. Did you ever see
+the boy that sat for that picture?"
+
+The print was a snapshot of a boy about nineteen, a good looking handsome
+fellow, a little sulky around the mouth but with a pair of straight honest
+eyes.
+
+Curly shook his head slowly. Yet he was vaguely reminded of someone he
+knew. Glancing up, he found instantly the clew to what had puzzled him.
+The young man in the picture was like Kate Cullison, like her father too
+for that matter.
+
+"He's your brother." The words were out before Flandrau could stop them.
+
+"Yes. You've never met him?"
+
+"No."
+
+Cullison had been watching the young man steadily. "Never saw him with
+Soapy Stone?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Never heard Stone speak of Sam Cullison?"
+
+"No. Soapy doesn't talk much about who his friends are."
+
+The ex-sheriff nodded. "I've met him."
+
+Of course he had met him. Curly knew the story of how in one drive he had
+made a gather of outlaws that had brought fame to him. Soapy had broken
+through the net, but the sheriff had followed him into the hills alone and
+run him to earth. What passed between the men nobody ever found out. Stone
+had repeatedly given it out that he could not be taken alive. But Cullison
+had brought him down to the valley bound and cowed. In due season the
+bandits had gone over the road to Yuma. Soapy and the others had sworn to
+get their revenge some day. Now they were back in the hills at their old
+tricks. Was it possible that Cullison's son was with them, caught in a
+trap during some drunken frolic just as Curly had been? In what way could
+Stone pay more fully the debt of hate he owed the former sheriff than by
+making his son a villain?
+
+The little doctor came briskly into the room.
+
+"Everybody out but the nurse. You've had company enough for one day,
+Luck," he announced cheerily.
+
+Kate followed Maloney and his prisoner to the porch.
+
+"About the letters of your friend that was shot," she said to Curly.
+"Doctor Brown was telling me what you said. I'll see they reach Miss
+Anderson. Do you know in what restaurant she works?"
+
+"No. Mac didn't tell me." The boy gulped to swallow an unexpected lump in
+his throat. "They was expecting to get married soon."
+
+"I--I'll write to her," Kate promised, her eyes misty.
+
+"I'd be obliged, Miss. Mac was a good boy. Anyone will tell you that. And
+he was awful fond of her. He talked about her that last night before the
+camp fire. I led him into this."
+
+"I'll tell her what you say."
+
+"Do. Tell her he felt bad about what he had done. Bad companions got him
+going wrong, but he sure would have settled down into a good man. That's
+straight goods, too. You write it strong."
+
+The girl's eyes were shiny with tears. "Yes," she answered softly.
+
+"I ain't any Harvard A. B. Writing letters ain't my long suit. I'm always
+disremembering whether a man had ought to say have went and have knew.
+Verbs are the beatingest things. But I know you'll fix it up right so as
+to let that little girl down easy."
+
+"I've changed my mind. I'll not write but go to see her."
+
+Curly could only look his thanks. Words seemed strangely inadequate. But
+Kate understood the boy's unspoken wish and nodded her head reassuringly
+as he left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+LAURA LONDON
+
+
+Kite Bonfils and Maloney took Curly back to Saguache and turned him over
+to Sheriff Bolt.
+
+"How about bail?" Maloney asked.
+
+The sheriff smiled. He was a long lean leather-faced man with friendly
+eyes from which humorous wrinkles radiated.
+
+"You honing to go bail for him, Dick?"
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Oh, say two thousand."
+
+"You're on."
+
+"What!"
+
+A cowpuncher with fifty dollars two weeks after pay day was a rarity. No
+wonder Bolt was surprised.
+
+"It's not my money. Luck Cullison is going bail for him," Maloney
+explained.
+
+"Luck Cullison!" Maloney's words had surprised the exclamation from Curly.
+Why should the owner of the Circle C of all men go bail for him?
+
+The sheriff commented dryly on the fact. "I thought this kid was the one
+that shot him."
+
+"That was just a happenstance. Curly shot to save his bacon. Luck don't
+hold any grudge."
+
+"So I should judge. Luck gave you his check, did he?"
+
+Bolt belonged to the political party opposed to Cullison. He had been
+backed by Cass Fendrick, a sheepman in feud with the cattle interests and
+in particular with the Circle C outfit. But he could not go back on his
+word. He and Maloney called together on the district attorney. An hour
+later Dick returned to the jail.
+
+"It's all right, kid," he told Curly. "You can shake off the dust of
+Saguache from your hoofs till court meets in September."
+
+To Flandrau the news seemed too good for the truth. Less than twenty-four
+hours ago he had been waiting for the end of the road with a rope around
+his neck. Now he was free to slip a saddle on his pony Keno and gallop off
+as soon as he pleased. How such a change had been brought about he did not
+yet understand.
+
+While he and Maloney were sitting opposite each other at the New Orleans
+Hash House waiting for a big steak with onions he asked questions.
+
+"I don't savvy Cullison's play. Whyfor is he digging up two thousand for
+me? How does he know I won't cut my stick for Mexico?"
+
+"How do I know it?"
+
+"Well, do you?"
+
+Maloney helped himself to the oyster crackers to pass the time. "Sure I
+do."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Search me. But I know you'll be here in September if you're alive and
+kicking."
+
+Flandrau persisted. "But Luck don't owe me anything, except one pill sent
+promiscuous to his address. What's he going down into his jeans for? Will
+you tell me that? And shove them crackers north by east. Got to fill up on
+something."
+
+"Ain't you as good a guesser as I am, Curly?"
+
+"Well then, here's my guess. Miss Kate made him."
+
+"I reckon maybe she influenced him. But why did she? You don't figure that
+curly topknot of yours is disturbing her dreams any, do you?"
+
+"Quit your joshing and tell me why."
+
+"I can't tell you for sure. But here's my guess. Don't cost you a cent if
+you ain't satisfied with it. First off, there was poor Mac shot by the
+Circle C boys. Course Mac was a horse thief, but then he was a kid too.
+That worried the little girl some. She got to thinking about brother Sam
+and how he might be in the same fix one of these days as you are now. He's
+on her mind a good deal, Sam is. Same way with the old man too, I reckon,
+though he don't say much. Well, she decided Soapy Stone had led you astray
+like he's doing with Sam. It got to worrying her for fear her brother
+might need a friend some time. So she handed over her worry to the old man
+and made him dig up for you."
+
+"That's about it. Tell me what you know of Sam. Is he as white as the rest
+of the family?"
+
+"Sam is all right, but he has got off wrong foot first. He and the old man
+got to kind of disagreeing, for the kid was a wild colt. Come by it
+honestly from the old man too. Well, they had a row one time when Sam got
+into trouble. Luck told him he never wanted to see him again. Sam lit out,
+and next folks knew he was trailing with Soapy's gang. Consequence is,
+Sam's hitting the toboggan for Tophet by all accounts."
+
+"Looks like some one ought to be able to pry him loose from that bunch,"
+Curly mused aloud.
+
+Maloney grinned across at him. "You try it, son. You've always led a good
+pious life. He sure would listen to you."
+
+He had said it as a jest, but Curly did not laugh. Why not? Why shouldn't
+he hunt up Sam and let him know how his folks were worrying about him?
+What was to hinder him from trying to wipe out some of the big debt he
+owed the Cullison family? He was footloose till September and out of a
+job. For he could not go back to the Map of Texas with his hat in his hand
+and a repentant whine on his lips. Why not take a hike into the hills and
+round up the boy? Of course Sam might not listen to him, but he could not
+tell that till he had tried. It had taken him scarcely a moment to make up
+his mind. The smile had not yet died out of Maloney's eyes when he spoke.
+
+"Damn if I don't take a crack at it."
+
+The man on the other side of the table stared at him.
+
+"Meaning that, are you?"
+
+"Yep."
+
+"Might be some lively if Soapy gets wise to your intentions," he said in a
+casual sort of way.
+
+"I don't aim to declare them out loud."
+
+That was all they said about it at the time. The rest of the evening was
+devoted to pleasure. After dinner they took in a moving picture show. The
+first film was a Western melodrama and it pleased them both immensely.
+
+"I'd be afraid to live in a country where guns popped like they do in
+moving picture land," Curly drawled. "Where is it anyhow? It ain't Texas,
+nor Oklahoma, nor Wyoming, nor Montana, nor any of the spots in between,
+because I've been in all of them."
+
+Maloney laughed. "Day before yesterday that's the way I'd a-talked my own
+self, but now I know better. What about your little stunt? Wasn't that
+warm enough for you? Didn't guns pop enough? Don't you talk about moving
+pictures!"
+
+After the picture show there were other things. But both of them trod the
+narrow path, Maloney because he was used to doing so and Flandrau because
+his experiences had sobered him.
+
+"I'm on the water wagon, Dick." He grinned ruefully at his friend.
+"Nothing like locking the stable after your bronc's been stole. I'd a-been
+a heap better off if I'd got on the wagon a week ago."
+
+Since their way was one for several miles Maloney and Curly took the road
+together next morning at daybreak. Their ponies ambled along side by side
+at the easy gait characteristic of the Southwest. Steadily they pushed
+into the brown baked desert. Little dust whirls in the shape of inverted
+cones raced across the sand wastes. The heat danced along the road in
+front of them in shimmering waves.
+
+Your plainsman is a taciturn individual. These two rode for an hour
+without exchanging a syllable. Then Curly was moved to talk.
+
+"Can you tell me how it is a man can get fond of so Godforsaken a country?
+Cactus and greasewood and mesquite, and for a change mesquite and
+greasewood and cactus! Nothing but sand washes and sand hills, except the
+naked mountains 'way off with their bones sticking through. But in the
+mo'ning like this, when the world's kind o' smiley with the sunshine, or
+after dark when things are sorter violet soft and the mountains lose their
+edges--say, would you swap it for any other country on earth?"
+
+Maloney nodded. He had felt that emotion a hundred times, though he had
+never put it into words.
+
+At Willow Wash their ways diverged. They parted with a casual "So-long;
+see you later." Curly was striking for the headwaters of Dead Cow Creek,
+where Soapy Stone had a horse ranch.
+
+He put up that night at the place of a nester in the foothills. His host
+looked at him curiously when he mentioned his destination, but he did not
+say anything. It was none of his business how many young fellows rode to
+Soapy's ranch.
+
+Flandrau took the trail again next morning after breakfast. About two
+o'clock he reached a little park in the hills, in the middle of which, by
+a dry creek, lay a ranch.
+
+The young man at first thought the place was deserted for the day, but
+when he called a girl appeared at the door. She smiled up at him with the
+lively interest any ranch girl may be expected to feel in a stranger who
+happens to be both young and good looking.
+
+She was a young person of soft curves and engaging dimples. Beneath the
+brown cheeks of Arizona was a pink that came and went very attractively.
+
+Curly took off his dusty gray hat. "_Buenos tardes; senorita!_ I'll bet
+I'm too late to draw any dinner."
+
+"_Buenos, senor_," she answered promptly. "I'll bet you'd lose your
+money."
+
+He swung from the saddle. "That's good hearing. When a fellow has had his
+knees clamped to the side of a bronch for seven hours he's sure ready for
+the dinner bell."
+
+"You can wash over there by the pump. There's a towel on the fence."
+
+She disappeared into the house, and Curly took care of his horse, washed,
+and sauntered back to the porch. He could smell potatoes frying and could
+hear the sizzling of ham and eggs.
+
+While he ate the girl flitted in and out, soft-footed and graceful,
+replenishing his plate from time to time.
+
+Presently he discovered that her father was away hunting strays on Sunk
+Creek, that the nearest neighbor was seven miles distant, and that Stone's
+ranch was ten miles farther up Dead Cow.
+
+"Ever meet a lad called Sam Cullison?" the guest asked carelessly.
+
+Curly was hardly prepared to see the color whip into her cheeks or to meet
+the quick stabbing look she fastened on him.
+
+"You're looking for him, are you?" she said.
+
+"Thought while I was here I'd look him up. I know his folks a little."
+
+"Do you know him?"
+
+He shook his head. She looked at him very steadily before she spoke.
+
+"You haven't met him yet but you want to. Is that it?"
+
+"That's it."
+
+"Will you have another egg?"
+
+Flandrau laughed. "No, thanks. Staying up at Stone's, is he?"
+
+"How should I know who's staying at Stone's?"
+
+It was quite plain she did not intend to tell anything that would hurt
+young Cullison.
+
+"Oh, well, it doesn't matter. I ain't lost him any to speak of," the young
+man drawled.
+
+"Are you expecting to stop in the hills long--or just visiting?"
+
+"Yes," Curly answered, with his most innocent blank wall look.
+
+"Yes which?"
+
+"Why, whichever you like, Miss London. What's worrying you? If you'll ask
+me plain out I'll know how to answer you."
+
+"So you know my name?"
+
+"Anything strange about that? The Bar 99 is the London brand. I saw your
+calves in the corral with their flanks still sore. Naturally I assume the
+young lady I meet here is Miss Laura London."
+
+She defended her suspicions. "Folks come up here with their mysterious
+questions. A person would think nobody lived on Dead Cow but outlaws and
+such, to hear some of you valley people tell it."
+
+"There's nothing mysterious about me and my questions. I'm just a
+lunkheaded cowpuncher out of a job. What did you think I was?"
+
+"What do you want with Sam Cullison? Are you friendly to him? Or aren't
+you?"
+
+"Ladies first. Are _you_ friendly to him? Or aren't you?"
+
+Curly smiled gaily across the table at her. A faint echo of his pleasantry
+began to dimple the corners of her mouth. It lit her eyes and spread from
+them till the prettiest face on the creek wrinkled with mirth. Both of
+them relaxed to peals of laughter, and neither of them quite knew the
+cause of their hilarity.
+
+"Oh, you!" she reproved when she had sufficiently recovered.
+
+"So you thought I was a detective or a deputy sheriff. That's certainly
+funny."
+
+"For all I know yet you may be one."
+
+"I never did see anyone with a disposition so dark-complected as yours. If
+you won't put them suspicions to sleep I'll have to table my cards." From
+his pocket he drew a copy of the Saguache Sentinel and showed her a marked
+story. "Maybe that will explain what I'm doing up on Dead Cow."
+
+This was what Laura London read:
+
+  From Mesa comes the news of another case of bold and flagrant
+  rustling. On Friday night a bunch of horses belonging to the Bar
+  Double M were rounded up and driven across the mountains to this
+  city. The stolen animals were sold here this morning, after which the
+  buyers set out at once for the border and the thieves made themselves
+  scarce. It is claimed that the rustlers were members of the notorious
+  Soapy Stone outfit. Two of the four were identified, it is alleged,
+  as William Cranston, generally known as "Bad Bill," and a young
+  vaquero called "Curly" Flandrau.
+
+  At the time of going to press posses are out after both the outlaws
+  and the stolen horses. Chances of overtaking both are considered
+  excellent. All likely points and outlying ranches have been notified
+  by telephone whenever possible.
+
+  In case the guilty parties are apprehended the _Sentinel_ hopes an
+  example will be made of them that will deter others of like stamp
+  from a practice that has of late been far too common. Lawlessness
+  seems to come in cycles. Just now the southern tier of counties
+  appears to be suffering from such a sporadic attack. Let all good men
+  combine to stamp it out. The time has passed when Arizona must stand
+  as a synonym for anarchy.
+
+She looked up at the young man breathlessly, her pretty lips parted, her
+dilated eyes taking him in solemnly. A question trembled on her lips.
+
+"Say it," advised Flandrau.
+
+The courage to ask what she was thinking came back in a wave. "Then I
+will. Are you a rustler?"
+
+"That's what the paper says, don't it?"
+
+"Are you this man mentioned here? What's his name--'Curly' Flandrau?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you're a rustler?"
+
+"What do you think? Am I more like a rustler than a deputy sheriff? Stands
+to reason I can't be both."
+
+Her eyes did not leave him. She brushed aside his foolery impatiently.
+"You don't even deny it."
+
+"I haven't yet. I expect I will later."
+
+"Why do men do such things?" she went on, letting the hands that held the
+paper drop into her lap helplessly. "You don't look bad. Anyone would
+think----"
+
+Her sentence tailed out and died away. She was still looking at Curly, but
+he could see that her mind had flown to someone else. He would have bet a
+month's pay that she was thinking of another lad who was wild but did not
+look bad.
+
+Flandrau rose and walked round the table to her. "Much obliged, Miss
+Laura. I'll shake hands on that with you. You've guessed it. Course, me
+being so 'notorious' I hate to admit it, but I ain't bad any more than he
+is."
+
+She gave him a quick shy look. He had made a center shot she was not
+expecting. But, womanlike, she did not admit it.
+
+"You mean this 'Bad Bill'?"
+
+"You know who I mean all right. His name is Sam Cullison. And you needn't
+to tell me where he is. I'll find him."
+
+"I know you don't mean any harm to him." But she said it as if she were
+pleading with him.
+
+"C'rect. I don't. Can you tell me how to get to Soapy Stone's horse ranch
+from here, Miss London?"
+
+She laughed. Her doubts were vanishing like mist before the sunshine.
+"Good guess. At least he was there the last I heard."
+
+"And I expect your information is pretty recent."
+
+That drew another little laugh accompanied by a blush.
+
+"Don't you think I have told you enough for one day, Mr. Flandrau?"
+
+"That 'Mr.' sounds too solemn. My friends call me 'Curly,'" he let her
+know.
+
+She remembered that he was a stranger and a rustler and she drew herself
+up stiffly. This pleasant young fellow was too familiar.
+
+"If you take this trail to the scrub pines above, then keep due north for
+about four miles, you'll strike the creek again. Just follow the trail
+along it to the horse ranch."
+
+With that she turned on her heel and walked into the kitchen.
+
+Curly had not meant to be "fresh." He was always ready for foolery with
+the girls, but he was not the sort to go too far. Now he blamed himself
+for having moved too fast. He had offended her sense of what was the
+proper thing.
+
+There was nothing for it but to saddle and take the road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+A BEAR TRAP
+
+
+The winding trail led up to the scrub pines and from there north into the
+hills. Curly had not traveled far when he heard the sound of a gun fired
+three times in quick succession. He stopped to listen. Presently there
+came a faint far call for help.
+
+Curly cantered around the shoulder of the hill and saw a man squatting on
+the ground. He was stooped forward in an awkward fashion with his back to
+Flandrau.
+
+"What's up?"
+
+At the question the man looked over his shoulder. Pain and helpless rage
+burned in the deep-set black eyes.
+
+"Nothing at all. Don't you see I'm just taking a nap?" he answered
+quietly.
+
+Curly recognized him now. The man was Soapy Stone. Behind the straight
+thin-lipped mouth a double row of strong white teeth were clamped tightly.
+Little beads of perspiration stood out all over his forehead. A glance
+showed the reason. One of his hands was caught in a bear trap fastened to
+a cottonwood. Its jaws held him so that he could not move.
+
+The young man swung from the back of Keno. He found the limb of a
+cottonwood about as thick as his forearm below the elbow. This he set
+close to the trap.
+
+"Soon as I get the lip open shove her in," he told Stone.
+
+The prisoner moistened his dry lips. It was plain that he was in great
+pain.
+
+The rescuer slipped the toes of his boots over the lower lip and caught
+the upper one with both hands. Slowly the mouth of the trap opened. Stone
+slipped in the wooden wedge and withdrew his crushed wrist. By great good
+fortune the steel had caught on the leather gauntlet he was wearing.
+Otherwise it must have mangled the arm to a pulp.
+
+Even now he was suffering a good deal.
+
+"You'll have to let a doc look at it," Curly suggested.
+
+Stone agreed. "Reckon I better strike for the Bar 99." He was furious at
+himself for having let such an accident happen. The veriest tenderfoot
+might have known better.
+
+His horse had disappeared, but Curly helped him to the back of Keno.
+Together they took the trail for the Bar 99. On the face of the wounded
+man gathered the moisture caused by intense pain. His jaw was clenched to
+keep back the groans.
+
+"Hard sledding, looks like," Curly sympathized.
+
+"Reckon I can stand the grief," Stone grunted.
+
+Nor did he speak again until they reached the ranch and Laura London
+looked at him from a frightened face.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Ran a sliver in my finger, Miss Laura. Too bad to trouble you," Soapy
+answered with a sneer on his thin lips.
+
+A rider for the Bar 99 had just ridden up and Laura sent him at once for
+the doctor. She led the way into the house and swiftly gathered bandages,
+a sponge, and a basin of water. Together she and Curly bathed and wrapped
+the wound. Stone did not weaken, though he was pretty gray about the
+lips.
+
+Laura was as gentle as she could be.
+
+"I know I'm hurting you," she said, her fingers trembling.
+
+"Not a bit of it. Great pleasure to have you for a nurse. I'm certainly in
+luck." Curly did not understand the bitterness in the sardonic face and he
+resented it.
+
+"If the doctor would only hurry," Laura murmured.
+
+"Yes, I know I'm a great trouble. Too bad Curly found me."
+
+She was busy with the knots of the outer wrapping and did not look up. "It
+is no trouble."
+
+"I'm too meddlesome. Serves me right for being inquisitive about your
+father's trap."
+
+"He'll be sorry you were caught."
+
+"Yes. He'll have to climb the hill and reset it."
+
+That something was wrong between them Curly could see. Soapy was very
+polite in spite of his bitterness, but his hard eyes watched her as a cat
+does a mouse. Moreover, the girl was afraid of him. He could tell that by
+the timid startled way she had of answering. Now why need she fear the
+man? It would be as much as his life was worth to lift a hand to hurt
+her.
+
+After the doctor had come and had attended to the crushed wrist Curly
+stepped out to the porch to find Laura. She was watering her roses and he
+went across the yard to her.
+
+"I'm right sorry for what I said, Miss Laura. Once in a while a fellow
+makes a mistake. If he's as big a chump as I am it's liable to happen a
+little oftener. But I'm not really one of those smart guys."
+
+Out came her gloved hand in the firmest of grips.
+
+"I know that now. You didn't think. And I made a mistake. I thought you
+were taking advantage because I had been friendly. I'm glad you spoke
+about it. We'll forget it."
+
+"Then maybe we'll be friends after all, but I sha'n't tell you what my
+friends call me," he answered gaily.
+
+She laughed out in a sudden bubbling of mirth. "Take care."
+
+"Oh, I will. I won't even spell it."
+
+He helped her with the watering. Presently she spoke, with a quick look
+toward the house.
+
+"There's something I want to say."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Something I want you to do for me."
+
+"I expect maybe I'll do it."
+
+She said nothing more for a minute, then the thing that was troubling her
+burst from the lips of the girl as a flame leaps out of a pent fire.
+
+"It's about that boy he has up there." She gave a hopeless little gesture
+toward the hills.
+
+"Sam Cullison?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What about him?"
+
+"He's bent on ruining him, always has been ever since he got a hold on
+him. I can't tell you how I know it, but I'm sure---- And now he's more
+set on it than ever."
+
+Curly thought he could guess why, but he wanted to make sure. "Because you
+are Sam's friend?"
+
+The pink flooded her cheeks. "Yes."
+
+"And because you won't be Soapy Stone's friend?"
+
+She flashed a startled look at him. "How do you know?"
+
+"Jealous, is he?"
+
+Her face, buried in the blooms she had been cutting, was of the same tint
+as the roses.
+
+"And so he wants to hurt you through him?" Flandrau added.
+
+"Yes. If he can drag Sam down and get him into trouble he'll pay off two
+grudges at once. And he will too. You'll see. He's wily as an Indian. For
+that matter there is Apache blood in him, folks say."
+
+"What about young Cullison? Can't he make a fight for himself?"
+
+"Oh, you know how boys are. Sam is completely under this man's influence."
+Her voice broke a little. "And I can't help him. I'm only a girl. He won't
+listen to me. Besides, Dad won't let me have anything to do with him
+because of the way he's acting. What Sam needs is a man friend, one just
+as strong and determined as Soapy but one who is good and the right sort
+of an influence."
+
+"Are you picking me for that responsible friend who is to be such a
+powerful influence for good?" Curly asked with a smile.
+
+"Yes--yes, I am." She looked up at him confidently.
+
+"Haven't you forgotten that little piece in the _Sentinel_? How does it
+go? An example had ought to be made of the desperadoes, and all the rest
+of it."
+
+"I don't care what it says. I've seen you."
+
+"So had the editor."
+
+She waved his jests aside. "Oh, well! You've done wrong. What of that?
+Can't I tell you are a man? And I don't care how much fun you make of me.
+You're good too."
+
+Curly met her on the ground of her own seriousness. "I'll tell you
+something, Miss Laura. Maybe you'll be glad to know that the reason I'm
+going to the horse ranch is to help Sam Cullison if I can."
+
+He went on to tell her the whole story of what the Cullisons had done for
+him. In all that he said there was not one word to suggest such a thing,
+but Laura London's mind jumped the gaps to a knowledge of the truth that
+Curly himself did not have. The young man was in love with Kate Cullison.
+She was sure of it. Also, she was his ally in the good cause of romance.
+
+When Curly walked back into the house, Stone laid down the paper he had
+been reading.
+
+"I see the _Sentinel_ hints that Mr. Curly Flandrau had better be
+lynched," he jeered.
+
+"The _Sentinel_ don't always hit the bull's-eye, Soapy," returned the
+young man evenly. "It thinks I belong to the Soapy Stone outfit, but we
+know I haven't that honor."
+
+"There's no such outfit--not in the sense he means," snapped the man on
+the lounge. "What are your plans? Where you going to lie low? Picked a
+spot yet?"
+
+"I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on the way," Curly assured him
+gaily.
+
+Soapy frowned at him under the heavy eyebrows that gave him so menacing an
+effect.
+
+"Better come back with me to the ranch till you look around."
+
+"Suits me right down to the ground if it does you."
+
+Someone came whistling into the house and opened the door of the room. He
+was a big lank fellow with a shotgun in his hands. "From Missouri" was
+stamped all over his awkward frame. He stood staring at his unexpected
+guests. His eyes, clashing with those of Stone, grew chill and hard.
+
+"So you're back here again, are you?" he asked, looking pretty black.
+
+Stone's lip smile mocked him. "I don't know how you guessed it, but I sure
+am here."
+
+"Didn't I tell you to keep away from the Bar 99--you and your whole cursed
+outfit?"
+
+"Seems to me you did mention something of that sort. But how was I to know
+whether you meant it unless I came back to see?"
+
+Laura came into the room and ranged herself beside her father. Her hand
+rested lightly on his forearm.
+
+"He got caught in one of your bear traps and this young man brought him
+here to wait for the doctor," she explained.
+
+"Hmp!"
+
+The Missourian stared without civility at his guest, turned on his heel,
+and with his daughter beside him marched out of the room. He could not
+decently tell Stone to leave while he was under the care of a doctor, but
+he did not intend to make him welcome. London was a blunt grizzled old
+fellow who said what he thought even about the notorious Soapy Stone.
+
+"We'll pull our freights right away, Curly," Stone announced as soon as
+his host had gone.
+
+The young man went to the stable and saddled Keno. While he was tightening
+the cinch a shadow fell across his shoulder. He did not need to look round
+to see whose it was.
+
+"I'm so glad you're going to the horse ranch. You will look out for Sam. I
+trust you. I don't know why, but I have the greatest confidence in you,"
+the owner of the shadow explained sweetly.
+
+Curly smiled blandly over his shoulder at her. "Fine! That's a good
+uplifting line of talk, Miss Laura. Now will you please explain why you're
+feeding me this particular bunch of taffy? What is it I'm to do for you?"
+
+She blushed and laughed at the same time. Her hand came from behind her
+back. In it was a letter.
+
+"But I do mean it, every word of it."
+
+"That's to be my pay for giving Master Sam his billy doo, is it?"
+
+"How did you guess? It is a letter to Sam."
+
+"How did I guess it? Shows I'm sure a wiz, don't it?"
+
+She saw her father coming and handed him the letter quickly.
+
+"Here. Take it." A spark of mischief lit her eye and the dimples came out
+on her cheeks. "Good-by, _Curly_."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+BAD MEDICINE
+
+
+The house at the horse ranch was a long, low L-shaped adobe structure. The
+first impression Curly received was that of negligence. In places the roof
+sagged. A door in the rear hung from one hinge. More than one broken pane
+of glass was stuffed with paper. The same evidence of shiftlessness could
+be seen on every hand. Fences had collapsed and been repaired flimsily.
+The woodwork of the well was rotting. The windmill wheezed and did its
+work languidly for lack of oil.
+
+Two men were seated on the porch playing seven up. One was Bad Bill, the
+other Blackwell. At sight of Curly they gave up their game.
+
+"Hello, kid! Where did you drop from?" Cranston asked.
+
+A muscle twitched in Flandrau's cheek. "They got Mac."
+
+"Got him! Where? At Saguache?"
+
+"Ran us down near the Circle C. Mac opened fire. They--killed him."
+
+"Shot him, or----?" Curly was left to guess the other half of the
+question.
+
+"Shot him, and took me prisoner."
+
+"They couldn't prove a thing, could they?"
+
+"They could prove I wounded Cullison. That was enough for them. They set
+out to hang me. Later they changed their minds."
+
+"How come you here? Did you escape?"
+
+"Nope. Friends dug up bail."
+
+Cranston did not ask what friends. He thought he knew. Alec Flandrau, an
+uncle of Curly, owned a half interest in the Map of Texas ranch. No doubt
+he had come to the aid of the young scapegoat.
+
+"I'll bet the old man was sore at having to ante," was Big Bill's
+comment.
+
+"Say, Soapy has been telling me that the Cullison kid is up here. I reckon
+we better not say anything about my mixup with his folks. I'm not looking
+for any trouble with him."
+
+"All right, Curly. That goes with me. How about you, Blackwell?"
+
+"Sure. What Sam don't know won't hurt him."
+
+Curly sat down on the porch and told an edited story of his adventures to
+them. Before he had finished a young fellow rode up and dismounted. He had
+a bag of quail with him which he handed over to the Mexican cook. After he
+had unsaddled and turned his pony into a corral he joined the card players
+on the porch.
+
+By unanimous consent the game was changed to poker. Young Cullison had the
+chair next to Flandrau. He had, so Curly thought, a strong family
+resemblance to his father and sister. "His eye jumps straight at you and
+asks its questions right off the reel," the newcomer thought. Still a boy
+in his ways, he might any day receive the jolt that would transform him
+into a man.
+
+The cook's "Come and get it" broke up the game for a time. They trooped to
+supper, where for half an hour they discussed without words fried quail,
+cornbread and coffee. Such conversation as there was held strictly to
+necessary lines and had to do with the transportation of edibles.
+
+Supper over, they smoked till the table was cleared. Then coats were
+removed and they sat down to the serious business of an all night session
+of draw.
+
+Curly was not playing to win money so much as to study the characters of
+those present. Bill he knew already fairly well as a tough nut to crack,
+game to the core, and staunch to his friends. Blackwell was a bad lot,
+treacherous, vindictive, slippery as an eel. Even his confederates did not
+trust him greatly. But it was Soapy Stone and young Cullison that
+interested Flandrau most. The former played like a master. He chatted
+carelessly, but he overlooked no points. Sam had the qualities that go to
+make a brilliant erratic player, but he lacked the steadiness and the
+finesse of the veteran.
+
+The last play before they broke up in the gray dawn was a flashlight on
+Stone's cool audacity. The limit had long since been taken off. Blackwell
+and Stone had been the winners of the night, and the rest had all lost
+more or less.
+
+Curly was dealing, Cranston opened the pot.
+
+"She's cracked," he announced.
+
+Blackwell, sitting next to him, had been waiting his turn with palpable
+eagerness. "Got to boost her, boys, to protect Bill," he explained as his
+raise went in.
+
+Sam, who had drunk more than was good for him, raised in his turn. "Kick
+her again, gentlemen. Me, I'm plumb tired of that little song of mine,
+'Good here'."
+
+Stone stayed. Curly did not come in.
+
+Cranston showed his openers and laid down his hand. Blackwell hesitated,
+then raised again.
+
+"Reckon I'm content to trail along," Cullison admitted, pushing in the
+necessary chips.
+
+Soapy rasped his stubby chin, looked sideways at Sam and then at
+Blackwell, and abruptly shaved in chips enough to call the raise.
+
+"Cards?" asked Curly.
+
+"I'll play these," Blackwell announced.
+
+Sam called for two and Stone one.
+
+Blackwell raised. Sam, grumbling, stayed.
+
+"Might as well see what you've got when I've gone this far," he gave as a
+reason for throwing good money after bad.
+
+Soapy took one glance at his new card and came in with a raise.
+
+Blackwell slammed his fist down on the table. "Just my rotten luck. You've
+filled."
+
+Stone smiled, then dropped his eyes to his cards. Suddenly he started.
+What had happened was plain. He had misread his hand.
+
+With a cheerful laugh Blackwell raised in his turn.
+
+"Lets me out," Sam said.
+
+For about a tenth of a second one could see triumph ride in Soapy's eyes.
+"Different here," he explained in a quiet businesslike way. All his chips
+were pushed forward to the center of the table.
+
+On Blackwell's face were mapped his thoughts. Curly saw his stodgy mind
+working on the problem, studying helplessly the poker eyes of his easy
+placid enemy. Was Soapy bluffing? Or had he baited a hook for him to
+swallow? The faintest glimmer of amusement drifted across the face of
+Stone. He might have been a general whose plans have worked out to suit
+him, waiting confidently for certain victory. The longer the convict
+looked at him the surer he was that he had been trapped.
+
+With an oath he laid down his hand. "You've got me beat. Mine is only a
+jack high straight."
+
+Stone put down his cards and reached for the pot.
+
+Curly laughed.
+
+Blackwell whirled on him.
+
+"What's so condemned funny?"
+
+"The things I notice."
+
+"Meaning?"
+
+"That I wouldn't have laid down my hand."
+
+"Betcher ten plunks he had me beat."
+
+"You're on." Curly turned to Soapy. "Object to us seeing your hand?"
+
+Stone was counting his chips. He smiled. "It ain't poker, but go ahead.
+Satisfy yourselves."
+
+"You turn the cards," Flandrau said.
+
+A king of diamonds showed first, then a ten-spot and a six-spot of the
+same suit.
+
+"A flush," exulted Blackwell.
+
+"I've got just one more ten left, but it says you're wrong."
+
+The words were not out of Curly's mouth before the other had taken the
+bet. Soapy looked at Flandrau with a new interest. Perhaps this boy was
+not such a youth as he had first seemed.
+
+The fourth card turned was a king of hearts, the last a six of spades.
+Stone had had two pair to go on and had not bettered at the draw.
+
+Blackwell tossed down two bills and went away furious.
+
+That night was like a good many that followed. Sam was at an
+impressionable age, inclined to be led by any man whom he admired. Curly
+knew that he could gain no influence over him by preaching. He had to live
+the rough-and-tumble life of these men who dwelt beyond the pale of the
+law, to excel them at the very things of which they boasted. But in one
+respect he held himself apart. While he was at the horse ranch he did not
+touch a drop of liquor.
+
+Laura London's letter was not delivered until the second day, for, though
+she had not told her messenger to give it to Sam when he was alone, Curly
+guessed this would be better. The two young men had ridden down to Big
+Tree spring to get quail for supper.
+
+"Letter for you from a young lady," Flandrau said, and handed it to
+Cullison.
+
+Sam did not read his note at once, but put it in his pocket carelessly, as
+if it had been an advertisement. They lay down in the bushes about twenty
+yards apart, close to the hole where the birds flew every evening to
+water. Hidden by the mesquite, Sam ran over his letter two or three times
+while he was waiting. It was such a message as any brave-hearted,
+impulsive girl might send to the man she loved when he seemed to her to
+walk in danger. Cullison loved her for the interest she took in him, even
+while he ridiculed her fears.
+
+Presently the quails came by hundreds on a bee-line for the water hole.
+They shot as many as they needed, but no more, for neither of them cared
+to kill for pleasure.
+
+As they rode back to the ranch, Curly mentioned that he had seen Sam's
+people a day or two before.
+
+Cullison asked no questions, but he listened intently while the other told
+the story of his first rustling and of how Miss Kate and her father had
+stood by him in his trouble. The dusk was settling over the hills by this
+time, so that they could not see each other's faces clearly.
+
+"If I had folks like you have, the salt of the earth, and they were
+worrying their hearts out about me, seems to me I'd quit helling around
+and go back to them," Curly concluded.
+
+"The old man sent you to tell me that, did he?" Hard and bitter came the
+voice of the young man out of the growing darkness.
+
+"No, he didn't. He doesn't know I'm here. But he and your sister have done
+more for me than I ever can pay. That's why I'm telling you this."
+
+Sam answered gruffly, as a man does when he is moved, "Much obliged,
+Curly, but I reckon I can look out for myself."
+
+"Just what I thought, and in September I have to go to the penitentiary.
+Now I have mortgaged it away, my liberty seems awful good to me."
+
+"You'll get off likely."
+
+"Not a chance. They've got me cinched. But with you it's different. You
+haven't fooled away your chance yet. There's nothing to this sort of life.
+The bunch up here is no good. Soapy don't mean right by you, or by any
+young fellow he trails with."
+
+"I'll not listen to anything against Soapy. He took me in when my own
+father turned against me."
+
+"To get back at your father for sending him up the road."
+
+"That's all right. He has been a good friend to me. I'm not going to throw
+him down."
+
+"Would it be throwing him down to go back to your people?"
+
+"Yes, it would. We've got plans. Soapy is relying on me. No matter what
+they are, but I'm not going to lie down on him. And I'm not going back to
+the old man. He told me he was through with me. Once is a-plenty. I'm not
+begging him to take me back, not on your life."
+
+[Illustration: HE WAS THE MADDEST MAN IN ARIZONA.]
+
+Curly dropped the matter. To urge him further would only make the boy more
+set in his decision. But as the days passed he kept one thing in his mind,
+not to miss any chance to win his friendship. They rode together a good
+deal, and Flandrau found that Sam liked to hear him talk about the Circle
+C and its affairs. But often he was discouraged, for he made no progress
+in weaning him from his loyalty to Stone. The latter was a hero to him,
+and gradually he was filling him with wrong ideas, encouraging him the
+while to drink a great deal. That the man had some definite purpose Curly
+was sure. What it was he meant to find out.
+
+Meanwhile he played his part of a wild young cowpuncher ready for any
+mischief, but beneath his obtuse good humor Flandrau covered a vigilant
+wariness. Soapy held all the good cards now, but if he stayed in the game
+some of them would come to him. Then he would show Mr. Stone whether he
+would have everything his own way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A REHEARSED QUARREL
+
+
+Because he could not persuade him to join in their drinking bouts, Stone
+nicknamed Curly the good bad man.
+
+"He's the prize tough in Arizona, only he's promised his ma not to look on
+the wine when it is red," Blackwell sneered.
+
+Flandrau smiled amiably, and retorted as best he could. It was his cue not
+to take offence unless it were necessary.
+
+It was perhaps on account of this good nature that Blackwell made a
+mistake. He picked on the young man to be the butt of his coarse
+pleasantries. Day after day he pointed his jeers at Curly, who continued
+to grin as if he did not care.
+
+When the worm turned, it happened that they were all sitting on the porch.
+Curly was sewing a broken stirrup leather, Blackwell had a quirt in his
+hand, and from time to time flicked it at the back of his victim. Twice
+the lash stung, not hard, but with pepper enough to hurt. Each time the
+young man asked him to stop.
+
+Blackwell snapped the quirt once too often. When he picked himself out of
+the dust five seconds later, he was the maddest man in Arizona. Like a
+bull he lowered his head and rushed. Curly sidestepped and lashed out hard
+with his left.
+
+The convict whirled, shook the hair out of his eyes, and charged again. It
+was a sledge-hammer bout, with no rules except to hit the other man often
+and hard. Twice Curly went down from chance blows, but each time he rolled
+away and got to his feet before his heavy foe could close with him.
+Blackwell had no science. His arms went like flails. Though by sheer
+strength he kept Flandrau backing, the latter hit cleaner and with more
+punishing effect.
+
+Curly watched his chance, dodged a wild swing, and threw himself forward
+hard with his shoulder against the chest of the convict. The man staggered
+back, tripped on the lowest step of the porch, and went down hard. The
+fall knocked the breath out of him.
+
+"Had enough?" demanded Curly.
+
+For answer Blackwell bit his thumb savagely.
+
+"Since you like it so well, have another taste." Curly, now thoroughly
+angry, sent a short-arm jolt to the mouth.
+
+The man underneath tried to throw him off, but Flandrau's fingers found
+his hairy throat and tight-
+
+[Transcriber's Note: the last line printed in the preceeding paragraph was
+"tight-" and that was at a page break. The continuation was not printed at
+the top of the following page. From the context, "tightened" is likely the
+completed word.]
+
+"You're killing me," the convict gasped.
+
+"Enough?"
+
+"Y-yes."
+
+Curly stepped back quickly, ready either for a knife or a gun-play.
+Blackwell got to his feet, and glared at him.
+
+"A man is like a watermelon; you can't most generally tell how good he is
+till you thump him," Sam chuckled.
+
+Cranston laughed. "Curly was not so ripe for picking as you figured, Lute.
+If you'd asked me, I could a-told you to put in yore spare time letting
+him alone. But a fellow has to buy his own experience."
+
+The victor offered his hand to Blackwell. "I had a little luck. We'll call
+it quits if you say so."
+
+"I stumbled over the step," the beaten man snarled.
+
+"Sure. I had all the luck."
+
+"Looked to me like you were making yore own luck, kid," Bad Bill
+differed.
+
+The paroled convict went into the house, swearing to get even. His face
+was livid with fury.
+
+"You wouldn't think a little thing like a whaling given fair and square
+would make a man hold a grudge. My system has absorbed se-ve-real without
+doing it any harm." Sam stooped to inspect a rapidly discoloring eye.
+"Say, Curly, he hung a peach of a lamp on you."
+
+Soapy made no comment in words, but he looked at Flandrau with a new
+respect. For the first time a doubt as to the wisdom of letting him stay
+at the ranch crossed his mind.
+
+His suspicion was justified. Curly had been living on the edge of a secret
+for weeks. Mystery was in the air. More than once he had turned a corner
+to find the other four whispering over something. The group had
+disintegrated at once with a casual indifference that did not deceive.
+Occasionally a man had ridden into the yard late at night for private talk
+with Stone, and Curly was morally certain that the man was the little
+cowpuncher Dutch of the Circle C.
+
+Through it all Curly wore a manner of open confidence. The furtive
+whisperings did not appear to arouse his curiosity, nor did he intercept
+any of the knowing looks that sometimes were exchanged. But all the time
+his brain was busy with questions. What were they up to? What was it they
+had planned?
+
+Stone and Blackwell rode away one morning. To Curly the word was given
+that they were going to Mesa. Four days later Soapy returned alone. Lute
+had found a job, he said.
+
+"That a paper sticking out of your pocket?" Flandrau asked.
+
+Soapy, still astride his horse, tossed the _Saguache Sentinel_ to him as
+he turned toward the stable.
+
+"Lie number one nailed," Curly said to himself. "How came he with a
+Saguache paper if he's been to Mesa?"
+
+Caught between the folds of the paper was a railroad time table. It was a
+schedule of the trains of the Texas, Arizona & Pacific for July. This was
+the twenty-ninth of June. Certainly Soapy had lost no time getting the new
+folder as soon as it was issued. Why? He might be going traveling. If so,
+what had that to do with the mystery agitating him and his friends?
+
+Curly turned the pages idly till a penciled marking caught his eye. Under
+Number 4's time was scrawled, just below Saguache, the word Tin Cup, and
+opposite it the figures 10:19. The express was due to leave Saguache at
+9:57 in the evening. From there it pushed up to the divide and slid down
+with air brakes set to Tin Cup three thousand feet lower. Soapy could not
+want to catch the train fifteen miles the other side of Saguache. But this
+note on the margin showed that he was interested in the time it reached
+the water tank. There must be a reason for it.
+
+Stone came back hurriedly from the corral, to find Curly absorbed in the
+Sentinel.
+
+"Seen anything of a railroad folder? I must a-dropped it."
+
+"It was stuck in the paper. I notice there's liable to be trouble between
+Fendrick and the cattle interests over his sheep," the reader answered
+casually.
+
+"Yep. Between Fendrick and Cullison, anyhow." Stone had reclaimed and
+pocketed his time table.
+
+Incidentally Flandrau's doubt had been converted into a lively suspicion.
+Presently he took a gun, and strolled off to shoot birds. What he really
+wanted was to be alone so that he could think the matter over. Coming home
+in the dusk, he saw Stone and young Cullison with their heads together
+down by the corral. Curious to see how long this earnest talk would last,
+Curly sat down on a rock, and watched them, himself unobserved. They
+appeared to be rehearsing some kind of a scene, of which Soapy was stage
+director.
+
+The man on the rock smiled grimly. "They're having a quarrel, looks
+like.... Now the kid's telling Soapy to go to Guinea, and Soapy's pawing
+around mad as a bull moose. It's all a play. They don't mean it. But why?
+I reckon this dress rehearsal ain't for the calves in the corral."
+
+Curly's mind was so full of guesses that his poker was not up to par that
+night. About daybreak he began to see his way into the maze. His first
+gleam of light was when a row started between Soapy and Cullison. Before
+anyone could say a word to stop them they were going through with that
+identical corral quarrel.
+
+Flandrau knew now they had been preparing it for his benefit. Cranston
+chipped in against Sam, and to keep up appearances Curly backed the boy.
+The quarrel grew furious. At last Sam drove his fist down on the table and
+said he was through with the outfit and was going back to Saguache.
+
+"_Yo tambien_," agreed Curly. "Not that I've got anything against the
+horse ranch. That ain't it. But I'm sure pining for to bust the bank at
+Bronson's.
+
+                 'Round and round the little ball goes,
+                 Where it will land nobody knows.'
+
+I've got forty plunks burning my jeans. I've got to separate myself from
+it or make my roll a thousand."
+
+The end of it was that both Sam and Curly went down to the corral and
+saddled their ponies. To the last the conspirators played up to their
+parts.
+
+"Damned good riddance," Stone called after them as they rode away.
+
+"When I find out I'm doing business with four-flushers, I quit them cold,"
+Sam called back angrily.
+
+Curly was amused. He wanted to tell his friend that they had pulled off
+their little play very well. But he did not.
+
+Still according to program, Sam sulked for the first few miles of their
+journey. But before they reached the Bar 99 he grew sunny again.
+
+"I'm going to have a talk with Laura while I'm so near," he explained.
+
+"Yes, that will be fine. From the way the old man talked when I was there,
+I expect he'll kill the fatted yearling for you."
+
+"I don't figure on including the old man in my call. What's the use of
+having a friend along if you don't use him? You drift in ... just happen
+along, you know. I'll stay in the scrub pines up here. If the old man is
+absent scenery, you wave your bandanna real industrious. If he is at home,
+give Laura the tip and she'll know where to find me."
+
+The owner of the ranch, as it happened, was cutting trail over by Agua
+Caliente.
+
+"Do you want to see him very bad, Mr. Flandrau?" asked Miss Laura
+demurely.
+
+"My friends call me Curly."
+
+"I meant to say Curly."
+
+"That's what I thought. No, I can't say I've lost Mr. London."
+
+"You inquired for him."
+
+"Hmp! That's different. When I used to come home from the swimming hole
+contrary to orders, I used to ask where Dad was, but I didn't want to see
+him."
+
+"I see. Did you just come down from the horse ranch?"
+
+"You've guessed it right."
+
+"Then I'm sorry I can't ask you to 'light. Dad's orders."
+
+"You've got lots of respect for his orders, haven't you?" he derided.
+
+"Yes, I have." She could not quite make up her mind whether to laugh or
+become indignant.
+
+"Then there's no use trying to tell you the news from the ranch."
+
+A smile dimpled her cheeks and bubbled in her eyes. "If you should tell
+me, I suppose I couldn't help hearing."
+
+"But I'm trying to figure out my duty. Maybe I oughtn't to tempt you."
+
+"While you're making up your mind, I'll run back into the kitchen and look
+at the pies in the oven."
+
+Curly swung from the saddle, and tossed the bridle rein to the ground. He
+followed her into the house. She was taking an apple pie from the oven,
+but took time to be saucy over her shoulder.
+
+"I'm not allowed to invite you into the house, sir."
+
+"Anything in the by-laws about me inviting myself in?"
+
+"No, that wasn't mentioned."
+
+"Anything in them about you meeting one of the lads from the horse ranch
+up on the hillside where it is neutral ground?"
+
+"Did Sam come with you?" she cried.
+
+"Who said anything about Sam?"
+
+Glints of excitement danced in the brown pupils of her eyes. "He's here.
+Oh, I know he's here."
+
+"What do I get for bringing good news?"
+
+"I didn't say it was good news."
+
+"Sho! Your big eyes are shouting it."
+
+"Was that the news from the horse ranch?"
+
+"That's part of it, but there is more. Sam and Curly are on their way to
+Saguache to spend the Fourth of July. Sam is going for another reason, but
+I'm not sure yet what it is."
+
+"You mean----?"
+
+"There's something doing I don't _savez_, some big deal on foot that's not
+on the level. Sam is in it up to the hocks. To throw me off the scent they
+fixed up a quarrel among them. Sam is supposed to be quitting Soapy's
+outfit for good. But I know better."
+
+White to the lips, she faced him bravely. "What sort of trouble is he
+leading Sam into?"
+
+"I've got a kind of a notion. But it won't bear talking about yet. Don't
+you worry, little girl. I'm going to stand by Sam. And don't tell him what
+I've told you, unless you want to spoil my chance of helping him."
+
+"I won't," she promised; then added, with quick eagerness: "Maybe I can
+help you. I'm going down to Saguache to visit on the fourth. I'm to be
+there two weeks."
+
+"I'll look you up. Trouble is that Sam is hell bent on ruining himself.
+Seems to think Soapy is his best friend. If we could show him different
+things might work out all right."
+
+While she climbed the hill to Sam, Curly watered his horse and smoked a
+cigarette. He was not hired to chaperone lovers. Therefore, it took him
+three-quarters of an hour to reach the scrub pine belt on the edge of the
+park.
+
+At once he saw that they had been having a quarrel. The girl's eyes were
+red, and she was still dabbing at them with her handkerchief when he came
+whistling along. Sam looked discouraged, but stubborn. Very plainly they
+had been disagreeing about his line of conduct.
+
+The two young men took the trail again. The moroseness of Sam was real and
+not affected this time. He had flared up because the girl could not let
+him alone about his friendship for Soapy Stone. In his heart the boy knew
+he was wrong, that he was moving fast in the wrong direction. But his
+pride would neither let him confess it or go back on his word to the men
+with whom he had been living.
+
+About noon the next day they reached Saguache. After they had eaten, Curly
+strolled off by himself to the depot.
+
+"Gimme a ticket to Tin Cup for this evening. I want to go by the express,"
+he told the agent.
+
+The man looked at him and grinned. "I saw you at Mesa in the bucking
+broncho doings last year, didn't I?"
+
+"Maybe you did and maybe you didn't. Why?"
+
+"You certainly stay with the bad bronchs to a fare-you-well. If I'd been
+judge you'd a-had first place, Mr. Flandrau."
+
+"Much obliged. And now you've identified me sufficient, how about that
+ticket?"
+
+"I was coming to that. Sure you can get a ticket. Good on any train.
+You're so darned active, maybe you could get off Number 4 when she is
+fogging along sixty miles per. But most folks couldn't, not with any
+comfort."
+
+"Meaning that the Flyer doesn't stop?"
+
+"Not at Tin Cup."
+
+"Have to take the afternoon train then?"
+
+"I reckon." He punched a ticket and shoved it through the window toward
+Curly. "Sixty-five cents, please."
+
+Flandrau paid for and pocketed the ticket he did not intend to use. He had
+found out what he wanted to know. The express did not stop at Tin Cup.
+Why, then, had Soapy marked the time of its arrival there? He was
+beginning to guess the reason. But he would have to do more than guess.
+
+Curly walked back to the business section from the depot. Already the town
+was gay with banners in preparation for the Fourth. On the program were
+broncho-busting, roping, Indian dances, races, and other frontier events.
+Already visitors were gathering for the festivities. Saguache, wide open
+for the occasion, was already brisk with an assorted population of many
+races. Mexicans, Chinese, Indians of various tribes brushed shoulders with
+miners, tourists and cattlemen. Inside the saloons faro, chuckaluck and
+roulette attracted each its devotees.
+
+Flandrau sauntered back to the hotel on the lookout for Sam. He was not
+there, but waiting for him was a boy with a note for the gentleman in
+Number 311.
+
+"Kid looking for you," the clerk called to the cowpuncher.
+
+"Are you Mr. Soapy Stone's friend, the one just down from Dead Cow creek?"
+asked the boy.
+
+Taken as a whole, the answer was open to debate. But Curly nodded and took
+the note.
+
+This was what he read:
+
+  Sam, come to Chalkeye's place soon as you get this. There we will
+  talk over the business.
+
+                                                       You Know Who.
+
+Though he did not know who, Curly thought he could give a pretty good
+guess both as to the author and the business that needed talking over.
+
+Through the open door of the hotel he saw Sam approaching. Quickly he
+sealed the flap of the envelope again, and held it pressed against his
+fingers while he waited.
+
+"A letter for you, Sam."
+
+Cullison tore open the envelope and read the note.
+
+"A friend of mine has come to town and wants to see me," he explained.
+
+To help out his bluff, Curly sprang the feeble-minded jest on him. "Blonde
+or brunette?"
+
+"I'm no lady's man," Sam protested, content to let the other follow a
+wrong scent.
+
+"Sure not. It never is a lady," Flandrau called after him as he departed.
+
+But Sam had no more than turned the corner before Curly was out of a side
+door and cutting through an alley toward Chalkeye's place. Reaching the
+back door of the saloon, he opened it a few inches and peered in. A minute
+later Sam opened the front screen and asked a question of the man in the
+apron. The bartender gave a jerk of his thumb. Sam walked toward the rear
+and turned in at the second private booth.
+
+Curly slipped forward quietly, and passed unobserved into the third stall.
+The wall which divided one room from another was of pine boarding and did
+not reach the ceiling. As the eavesdropper slid to a seat a phonograph in
+front began the Merry Widow waltz. Noiselessly Flandrau stood on the
+cushioned bench with his ear close to the top of the dividing wall. He
+could hear a murmur of voices but could not make out a word. The record on
+the instrument wheezed to silence, but immediately a rag-time tune
+followed.
+
+Presently the music died away. Flattened against the wall, his attention
+strained to the utmost, Curly began to catch words and phrases of the
+low-voiced speakers in the next compartment. His position was perilous in
+the extreme, but he would not leave now until he had found out what he
+wanted to know.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+EAVESDROPPING
+
+
+Out of the murmur of voices came one that Curly recognized as that of
+Soapy Stone, alias You Know Who.
+
+" ... then you'll take the 9:57, Sam...."
+
+After more whispering, "Yep, soon as you hear the first shot ... cover the
+passengers...."
+
+The listener lost what followed. Once he thought he heard the name Tin
+Cup, but he could not be sure. Presently another fragment drifted to him.
+"...make our getaway and cache the plunder...."
+
+The phonograph lifted up its voice again. This time it was "I love a
+lassie." Before the song was finished there came the sound of shuffling
+feet. One of the men in the next stall was leaving. Curly could not tell
+which one, nor did he dare look over the top of the partition to find out.
+He was playing safe. This adventure had caught him so unexpectedly that he
+had not found time to run back to his room for his six-gun. What would
+happen to him if he were caught listening was not a matter of doubt. Soapy
+would pump lead into him till he quit kicking, slap a saddle on a broncho,
+and light out for the Sonora line.
+
+As the phonograph finished unexpectedly--someone had evidently interrupted
+the record--the fragment of a sentence seemed to jump at Curly.
+
+" ... so the kid will get his in the row."
+
+It was the voice of Soapy, raised slightly to make itself heard above the
+music.
+
+"Take care," another voice replied, and Flandrau would have sworn that
+this belonged to Blackwell.
+
+Stone, who had been sitting on the other side of the table, moved close to
+the paroled convict. Between him and Curly there was only the thickness of
+a plank. The young man was afraid that the knocking of his heart could be
+heard.
+
+" ... don't like it," Blackwell was objecting sullenly.
+
+"Makes it safe for us. Besides"--Stone's voice grated like steel rasping
+steel, every word distinct though very low--"I swore to pay off Luck
+Cullison, and by God! I'm going to do it."
+
+"Someone will hear you if you ain't careful," the convict protested
+anxiously.
+
+"Don't be an old woman, Lute."
+
+" ... if you can do it safe. I owe Luck Cullison much as you do, but...."
+
+Again they fell to whispers. The next word that came to Curly clearly was
+his own name. But it was quite a minute before he gathered what they were
+saying.
+
+"Luck Cullison went his bail. I learnt it this mo'ning."
+
+"The son-of-a-gun. It's a cinch he's a spy. And me wanting you to let him
+in so's he could hold the sack instead of Sam."
+
+"Knew it wouldn't do, Lute. He's smart as a whip."
+
+"Reckon he knows anything?"
+
+"No. Can't."
+
+"If I thought he did----"
+
+"Keep your shirt on, Lute. He don't know a thing. And you get revenge on
+him all right. Sam will run with him and his friends while he's here.
+Consequence is, when they find the kid where we leave him they'll sure
+guess Curly for one of his pardners. Tell you his ticket is good as bought
+to Yuma. He's a horse thief. Why shouldn't he be a train robber, too.
+That's how a jury will argue."
+
+Blackwell grumbled something under his breath.
+
+Stone's voice grated harshly. "Me too. If he crosses my trail I'm liable
+to spoil his hide before court meets. No man alive can play me for a
+sucker and throw me down. Not Soapy Stone."
+
+Once more the voices ran together indistinctly. It was not till Blackwell
+suggested that they go get a drink that Curly understood anything more of
+what was being said.
+
+The outlaws passed out of the little room and strolled forward to the
+bar.
+
+Curly had heard more than he had expected to. Moreover, as he
+congratulated himself, his luck had stood up fine. Nobody in the sunburnt
+territory felt happier than he did that minute when he struck the good
+fresh air of the alley and knew that he had won through his hazardous
+adventure alive.
+
+The first thing that Flandrau did was to walk toward the outskirts of the
+town where he could think it out by himself. But in this little old planet
+events do not always occur as a man plans them. Before he reached Arroyo
+street Curly came plump against his old range-mate Slats Davis.
+
+The assistant foreman of the Hashknife nodded as he passed. He had helped
+Curly escape less than a month before, but he did not intend to stay
+friendly with a rustler.
+
+Flandrau caught him by the arm. "Hello, Slats. You're the man I want."
+
+"I'm pretty busy to-day," Davis answered stiffly.
+
+"Forget it. This is more important."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Come along and take a walk. I got something to tell you."
+
+"Can't you tell it here?"
+
+"I ain't going to, anyhow. Come along. I ain't got smallpox."
+
+Reluctantly Davis fell in beside him. "All right. Cut it short. I've got
+to see a man."
+
+"He'll have to wait." Curly could not help chuckling to himself at the
+evident embarrassment of the other. The impish impulse to "devil" him had
+its way. "You're a man of experience, Slats. Ever hold up a train?"
+
+The foreman showed plainly his disgust at this foolishness. "Haven't you
+sense enough ever to be serious, Curly? You're not a kid any more. In age
+you're a grown man. But how do you act? Talk like that don't do you any
+good. You're in trouble good and deep. Folks have got their eyes on you.
+Now is the time to show them you have quit all that hell raising you have
+been so busy at."
+
+"He sure is going good this mo'ning," Curly drawled confidentially to the
+scenery. "You would never guess, would you, that him and me had raised
+that crop in couples?"
+
+"That's all right, too. I'm no sky pilot. But I know when to quit.
+Seemingly you don't. I hear you've been up at Stone's horse ranch. I want
+to tell you that won't do you any good if it gets out."
+
+"Never was satisfied till I had rounded up all the trouble in sight.
+That's why I mentioned this train robbery. Some of my friends are aiming
+to hold up one shortly. If you'd like to get in I'll say a good word for
+you."
+
+Davis threw at him a look that drenched like ice water. "I expect you and
+me are traveling different trails these days, Curly. You don't mean it of
+course, but the point is I'm not going to joke with you along that line.
+Understand?"
+
+"Wrong guess, old hoss. I do mean it."
+
+Davis stopped in his tracks. "Then you've said too much to me. We'll part
+right here."
+
+"It takes two to agree to that, Slats."
+
+"That's where you're wrong. One is enough. We used to be good friends, but
+those days are past. None of us can keep a man from being a durned fool if
+he wants to be one. Nor a scoundrel. You've got the bit in your teeth and
+I reckon you'll go till there is a smash. But you better understand this.
+When you choose Soapy Stone's, crowd to run with that cuts out me and
+other decent folks. If they have sent you here to get me mixed up in their
+deviltry you go back and tell them there's nothing doing."
+
+"Won't have a thing to do with them. Is that it?"
+
+"Not till the call comes for citizens to get together and run them out of
+the country. Or to put them behind bars. Or to string them to a
+cottonwood. Then I'll be on the job."
+
+He stood there quiet and easy, the look in his steady eyes piercing
+Curly's ironic smile as a summer sun does mackerel clouds in a clear sky.
+Not many men would have had the courage to send that message to Soapy and
+his outfit. For Stone was not only a man killer, but a mean one at that.
+Since he had come back from the penitentiary he had been lying pretty low,
+but he brought down from the old days a record that chilled the blood.
+
+Curly sloughed his foolishness and came to the point.
+
+"You're on, Slats. I'm making that call to you now."
+
+The eyes of the two men fastened. Those of Flandrau had quit dancing and
+were steady as the sun in a blue sky. Surprise, doubt, wonder, relief
+filled in turn the face of the other man.
+
+"I'm listening, Curly."
+
+His friend told him the whole story from the beginning, just as he had
+been used to do in the old days. And Davis heard it without a word, taking
+the tale in quietly with a grim look settling, on his face.
+
+"So he aims to play traitor to young Cullison. The thing is damnable."
+
+"He means to shut Sam's mouth for good and all. That is what he has been
+playing for from the start, to get even with Luck. He and his gang will
+get away with the haul and they will leave Sam dead on the scene of the
+hold-up. There will be some shooting, and it will be figured the boy was
+hit by one of the train crew. Nothing could be easier."
+
+"If it worked out right."
+
+"Couldn't help working out right. That's why Soapy didn't let me in on the
+proposition. To get rid of one would be no great trouble, but two--well,
+that's different. Besides, I could tell he was not sure of me. Now he aims
+to put me on the stand and prove by me that Sam and he had a quarrel and
+parted company mighty sore at each other hardly a week before the hold-up.
+He'll have an alibi too to show he couldn't have been in it. You'll see."
+
+"You wouldn't think a white man could take a revenge like that on his
+enemy. It's an awful thing to do in cold blood."
+
+"Soapy is no white man. He's a wolf. See how slick his scheme is. At one
+flip of the cards he kills the kid and damns his reputation. He scores
+Cullison and he snuffs out Sam, who had had the luck to win the girl Soapy
+fancies. The boy gets his and the girl is shown she can't love another man
+than Stone."
+
+"Ever hear the story of French Dan?" asked Slats.
+
+"Not to know the right of it."
+
+"Soapy and Dan trained together in them days and went through a lot of
+meanness as side pardners. One day the Arivaca stage was held up by two
+men and the driver killed. In the scrap one of the men had his mask torn
+off. It was French Dan. Well, the outlaws had been too damned busy. Folks
+woke up and the hills were sprinkled with posses. They ran the fellows
+down and hunted them from place to place. Two--three times they almost
+nailed them. Shots were exchanged. A horse of one of the fugitives was
+killed and they could not get another. Finally one dark night the outlaws
+were surrounded. The posse lay down in the zacaton and waited for morning.
+In the night one of them heard a faint sound like the popping of a cork.
+When mo'ning broke the hunters crept forward through the thick grass.
+Guess what they found."
+
+Curly's answer was prompt. "Gimme a harder one. There were two men and
+only one horse. The only chance was to slip through the line before day
+arrived. My guess is that they found French Dan with a little round hole
+in his skull--_and that the bullet making it had gone in from behind_. My
+guess also is that the posse didn't find the horse and the other man, just
+a trail through the zacaton back into the hills."
+
+"Go to the head of the class. There was one man too many in that thicket
+for the horse. French Dan's pardner was afraid they might not agree about
+who was to have the bronch for a swift getaway. So he took no chances.
+There's only one man alive to-day can swear that Soapy was the man with
+French Dan lying in the zacaton. And he'll never tell, because he pumped
+the bullet into his friend. But one thing is sure. Soapy disappeared from
+Arizona for nearly two years. You can pick any reason you like for his
+going. That is the one I choose."
+
+"Same here. And the man that would shoot one partner in the back would
+shoot another if he had good reasons. By his way of it Soapy has reasons
+a-plenty."
+
+"I'm satisfied that is his game. Question is how to block it. Will you go
+to the sheriff?"
+
+"No. Bolt would fall down on it. First off, he would not believe the story
+because I'm a rustler myself. Soapy and his friends voted for Bolt. He
+would go to them, listen to their story, prove part of it by me, and turn
+them loose for lack of evidence. Sam would go back to Dead Cow with them,
+and Stone would weave another web for the kid."
+
+"You've got it about right," Slats admitted. "How about warning Sam?"
+
+"No use. He would go straight to Soapy with it, and his dear friend would
+persuade him it was just a yarn cooked up to get him to throw down the
+only genuwine straight-up pal he ever had."
+
+"Cullison then?"
+
+"You're getting warm. I've had that notion myself. The point is, would he
+be willing to wait and let Soapy play his hand out till we called?"
+
+"You would have to guarantee his boy would be safe meanwhile."
+
+"Two of us would have to watch him day and night without Sam knowing it."
+
+"Count me in."
+
+"This is where we hit heavy traveling, Slats. For we don't know when the
+thing is going to be pulled off."
+
+"We'll have to be ready. That's all."
+
+"Happen to know whether Dick Maloney is here for the show?"
+
+"Saw him this mo'ning. Luck is here too, him and his girl."
+
+"Good. We've got to have a talk with them, and it has to be on the q.t.
+You go back to town and find Dick. Tell him to meet us at the Del Mar,
+where Luck always puts up. Find out the number of Cullison's room and make
+an appointment. I'll be on El Molino street all mo'ning off and on. When
+you find out pass me without stopping, but tell me when we are to meet and
+just where."
+
+Curly gave Slats a quarter of an hour before sauntering back to town. As
+he was passing the Silver Dollar saloon a voice called him. Stone and
+Blackwell were standing in the door. Flandrau stopped.
+
+Soapy's deep-set eyes blazed at him. "You didn't tell me it was Luck
+Cullison went bail for you, Curly."
+
+"You didn't ask me."
+
+"So you and him are thick, are you?"
+
+"I've met him once, if that's being thick. That time I shot him up."
+
+"Funny. And then he went bail for you."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Now I wonder why."
+
+The eyes of the man had narrowed to red slits. His head had shot forward
+on his shoulders as that of a snake does. Curly would have given a good
+deal just then for the revolver lying on the bed of his room. For it was
+plain trouble was in sight. The desperado had been drinking heavily and
+was ready to do murder.
+
+"That's easy to explain, Soapy. I shot him because I was driven to it.
+He's too much of a man to bear a grudge for what I couldn't help."
+
+"That's it, is it? Does that explain why he dug up good money to turn
+loose a horse thief?"
+
+"If I told you why, you would not understand."
+
+"Let's hear you try."
+
+"He did it because I was young, just as Sam is; and because he figured
+that some day Sam might need a friend, too."
+
+"You're a liar. He did it because you promised to sneak up to my ranch and
+spy on us. That's why he did it."
+
+With the last word his gun jumped into sight. That he was lashing himself
+into a fury was plain. Presently his rage would end in a tragedy.
+
+Given a chance, Curly would have run for it. But Soapy was a dead shot. Of
+a sudden the anger in the boy boiled up over the fear. In two jumps he
+covered the ground and jammed his face close to the cold rim of the blue
+steel barrel.
+
+"I'm not heeled. Shoot and be damned, you coward. And with my last breath
+I'll tell you that you're a liar."
+
+Flandrau had called his bluff, though he had not meant it as one. A dozen
+men were in sight and were watching. They had heard the young man tell
+Stone he was not armed. Public opinion would hold him to account if he
+shot Curly down in cold blood. He hung there undecided, breathing fast,
+his jaw clamped tightly.
+
+The lad hammered home his defiance. "Drop that gun, you four-flusher, and
+I'll whale you till you can't stand. _Sabe?_ Call yourself a bad man, do
+you? Time I'm through with you there will be one tame wolf crawling back
+to Dead Cow with its tail between its legs."
+
+The taunt diverted his mind, just as Curly had hoped it would. He thrust
+the revolver back into the holster and reached for his foe.
+
+Then everybody, hitherto paralyzed by the sight of a deadly weapon, woke
+up and took a hand. They dragged the two men apart. Curly was thrust into
+a barber shop on the other side of the street and Stone was dragged back
+into the Silver Dollar.
+
+In two minutes Flandrau had made himself famous, for he was a marked man.
+The last words of the straggling desperado had been that he would shoot on
+sight. Now half a dozen talked at once. Some advised Curly one thing, some
+another. He must get out of town. He must apologize at once to Stone. He
+must send a friend and explain.
+
+The young man laughed grimly. "Explain nothing. I've done all the
+explaining I'm going to. And I'll not leave town either. If Soapy wants me
+he'll sure find me."
+
+"Don't be foolish, kid. He has got four notches on that gun of his. And
+he's a dead shot."
+
+The tongues of those about him galloped. Soapy was one of these
+Billy-the-Kid killers, the only one left from the old days. He could whang
+away at a quarter with that sawed-off .45 of his and hit it every crack.
+The sooner Curly understood that no boy would have a chance with him the
+better it would be. So the talk ran.
+
+"He's got you bluffed to a fare-you-well. You're tame enough to eat out of
+his hand. Didn't Luck Cullison go into the hills and bring him down all
+alone?" Flandrau demanded.
+
+"Luck's another wonder. There ain't another man in Arizona could have done
+it. Leastways no other but Bucky O'Connor."
+
+But Curly was excited, pleased with himself because he had stood up to the
+bogey man of the Southwest, and too full of strength to be afraid.
+
+Maloney came into the barber shop and grinned at him.
+
+"Hello, son!"
+
+"Hello, Dick!"
+
+"I hear you and Soapy are figuring on setting off some fireworks this
+Fourth."
+
+It did Curly good to see him standing there so easy and deliberate among
+the excitable town people.
+
+"Soapy is doing the talking."
+
+"I heard him; happened to be at the Silver Dollar when they dragged him
+in."
+
+Maloney's eyebrows moved the least bit. His friend understood. Together
+they passed out of the back door of the shop into an alley. The others
+stood back and let them go. But their eyes did not leave Curly so long as
+he was in sight. Until this thing was settled one way or the other the
+young rustler would be one of the most important men in town. Citizens
+would defer to him that had never noticed him before. He carried with him
+a touch of the solemnity that is allowed only the dead or the dying.
+
+Back to the hotel the two ran. When Curly buckled on his revolver and felt
+it resting comfortably against his thigh he felt a good deal better.
+
+"I've seen Slats Davis," Maloney explained. "He has gone to find Luck, who
+is now at the Del Mar. At least he was an hour ago."
+
+"Had any talk with Slats?"
+
+"No. He said you'd do the talking."
+
+"I'm to wait for him on El Molino street to learn where I'm to meet
+Cullison."
+
+"That won't do. You'd make too tempting a target. I'll meet him instead."
+
+That suited Curly. He was not hunting trouble just now, even though he
+would not run away from it. For he had serious business on hand that could
+not take care of itself if Soapy should kill him.
+
+Nearly an hour later Maloney appeared again.
+
+"We're to go right over to the Del Mar. Second floor, room 217. You are to
+go down El Molino to Main, then follow it to the hotel, keeping on the
+right hand side of the street. Slats will happen along the other side of
+the street and will keep abreast of you. Luck will walk with me behind
+you. Unless I yell your name don't pay any attention to what is behind
+you. Soon as we reach the hotel Slats will cross the road and go in by the
+side door. You will follow him a few steps behind, and we'll bring up the
+rear casually as if we hadn't a thing to do with you."
+
+"You're taking a heap of pains, seems to me."
+
+"Want to keep you from getting spoilt till September term of court opens.
+Didn't I promise Bolt you would show up?"
+
+They moved down the street as arranged. Every time a door opened in front
+of him, every time a man came out of a store or a saloon, Curly was ready
+for that lightning lift of the arm followed by a puff of smoke. The news
+of his coming passed ahead of him, so that windows were crowded with
+spectators. These were doomed to disappointment. Nothing happened. The
+procession left behind it the Silver Dollar, the Last Chance, Chalkeye's
+Place and Pete's Palace.
+
+Reaching the hotel first, Davis disappeared according to program into the
+side door. Carly followed, walked directly up the stairs, along the
+corridor, and passed without knocking into Room 217.
+
+A young woman was sitting there engaged with some fancy work. Slender and
+straight, Kate Cullison rose and gave Curly her hand. For about two
+heartbeats her fingers lay cuddled in his big fist. A strange stifling
+emotion took his breath.
+
+Then her arm fell to her side and she was speaking to him.
+
+"Dad has gone to meet you. We've heard about what happened this morning."
+
+"You mean what didn't happen. Beats all how far a little excitement goes
+in this town," he answered, embarrassed.
+
+Her father and Maloney entered the room. Cullison wrung his hand.
+
+"Glad to see you, boy. You're in luck that convict did not shoot you up
+while he had the chance. Saguache is sure buzzing this mo'ning with the
+way you stood up to him. That little play of yours will help with the jury
+in September."
+
+Curly thanked him for going bail.
+
+Luck fixed his steel-spoked eyes on him. "By what Dick tells me you've
+more than squared that account."
+
+Kate explained in her soft voice. "Dick told us why you went up to Dead
+Cow creek."
+
+"Sho! I hadn't a thing to do, so I just ran up there. Sam's in town with
+me. We're rooming together."
+
+"Oh, take me to him," Kate cried.
+
+"Not just now, honey," her father said gently. "This young man came here
+to tell us something. Or so I gathered from his friend Davis."
+
+Flandrau told his story, or all of it that would bear telling before a
+girl. He glossed over his account of the dissipation at the horse ranch,
+but he told all he knew of Laura London and her interest in Sam. But it
+was when he related what he had heard at Chalkeye's place that the
+interest grew most tense. While he was going over the plot to destroy
+young Cullison there was no sound in the room but his voice. Luck's eyes
+burned like live coals. The color faded from the face of his daughter so
+that her lips were gray as cigar ash. Yet she sat up straight and did not
+flinch.
+
+When he had finished the owner of the Circle C caught his hand. "You've
+done fine, boy. Not a man in Arizona could have done it better."
+
+Kate said nothing in words but her dark longlashed eyes rained thanks upon
+him.
+
+They talked the situation over from all angles. Always it simmered down to
+one result. It was Soapy's first play. Until he moved they could not. They
+had no legal evidence except the word of Curly. Nor did they know on what
+night he had planned to pull off the hold-up. If they were to make a
+complete gather of the outfit, with evidence enough to land them in the
+penitentiary, it could only be after the hold-up.
+
+Meanwhile there was nothing to do but wait and take what precautions they
+could against being caught by surprise. One of these was to see that Sam
+was never for an instant left unguarded either day or night. Another was
+to ride to Tin Cup and look the ground over carefully. For the present
+they could do no more than watch events, attracting no attention by any
+whispering together in public.
+
+Before the conference broke up Kate came in with her protest.
+
+"That's all very well, but what about Mr. Flandrau? He can't stay in
+Saguache with that man threatening to kill him on sight."
+
+"Don't worry about me, Miss Kate;" and Curly looked at her and blushed.
+
+Her father smiled grimly. "No, I wouldn't, Kate. He isn't going to be
+troubled by that wolf just now."
+
+"Doesn't stand to reason he'd spoil all his plans just to bump me off."
+
+"But he might. He forgot all about his plans this morning. How do we know
+he mightn't a second time?"
+
+"Don't you worry, honey. I've got a card up my sleeve," Luck promised.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"STICK TO YOUR SADDLE"
+
+
+The old Arizona fashion of settling a difference of opinion with the
+six-gun had long fallen into disuse, but Saguache was still close enough
+to the stark primeval emotions to wait with a keen interest for the crack
+of the revolver that would put a period to the quarrel between Soapy Stone
+and young Flandrau. It was known that Curly had refused to leave town,
+just as it was known that Stone and that other prison bird Blackwell were
+hanging about the Last Chance and Chalkeye's Place drinking together
+morosely. It was observed too that whenever Curly appeared in public he
+was attended by friends. Sometimes it would be Maloney and Davis,
+sometimes his uncle Alec Flandrau, occasionally a couple of the Map of
+Texas vaqueros.
+
+It chanced that "Old Man" Flandrau, drifting into Chalkeye's Place, found
+in the assembled group the man he sought. Billie Mackenzie, grizzled owner
+of the Fiddleback ranch, was with him, and it was in the preliminary pause
+before drinking that Alec made his official announcement.
+
+"No, Mac, I ain't worrying about that any. Curly is going to get a square
+deal. We're all agreed on that. If there's any shooting from cover
+there'll be a lynching _pronto_. That goes."
+
+Flandrau, Senior, did not glance at the sullen face of Lute Blackwell
+hovering in the background but he knew perfectly well that inside of an
+hour word would reach Soapy Stone that only an even break with Curly would
+be allowed.
+
+The day passed without a meeting between the two. Curly grew nervous at
+the delay.
+
+"I'm as restless as a toad on a hot skillet," he confessed to Davis. "This
+thing of never knowing what minute Soapy will send me his leaden
+compliments ain't any picnic. Wisht it was over."
+
+"He's drinking himself blind. Every hour is to the good for you."
+
+Curly shrugged. "Drunk or sober Soapy always shoots straight."
+
+Another day passed. The festivities had begun and Curly had to be much in
+evidence before the public. His friends had attempted to dissuade him from
+riding in the bucking broncho contest, but he had refused to let his name
+be scratched from the list of contestants.
+
+A thousand pair of eyes in the grandstand watched the boy as he lounged
+against the corral fence laughing and talking with his friends. A dozen
+people were on the lookout for the approach of Stone. Fifty others had
+warned the young man to be careful. For Saguache was with him almost to a
+man.
+
+Dick Maloney heard his voice called as he was passing the grandstand, A
+minute later he was in the Cullison box shaking hands with Kate.
+
+"Is--is there anything new?" she asked in a low voice.
+
+Her friend shook his head. "No. Soapy may drift out here any minute now."
+
+"Will he----?" Her eyes finished the question.
+
+He shook his head. "Don't know. That's the mischief of it. If they should
+meet just after Curly finishes riding the boy won't have a chance. His
+nerves won't be steady enough."
+
+"Dad is doing something. I don't know what it is. He had a meeting with a
+lot of cattlemen about it---- I don't see how that boy _can_ sit there on
+the fence laughing when any minute----"
+
+"Curly's game as they make 'em. He's a prince, too. I like that boy better
+every day."
+
+"He doesn't seem to me so----wild. But they say he's awfully reckless."
+She said it with a visible reluctance, as if she wanted him to deny the
+charge.
+
+"Sho! Curly needs explaining some. That's all. Give a dog a bad name and
+hang him. That saying is as straight as the trail of a thirsty cow. The
+kid got off wrong foot first, and before he'd hardly took to shaving
+respectable folks were hunting the dictionary to find bad names to throw
+at him. He was a reprobate and no account. Citizens that differed on
+everything else was unanimous about that. Mothers kinder herded their
+young folks in a corral when he slung his smile their way."
+
+"But why?" she persisted. "What had he done?"
+
+"Gambled his wages, and drank some, and, beat up Pete Schiff, and shot the
+lights out of the Legal Tender saloon. That's about all at first."
+
+"Wasn't it enough?"
+
+"Most folks thought so. So when Curly bumped into them keep-off-the-grass
+signs parents put up for him he had to prove they were justified. That's
+the way a kid acts. Half the bad men are only coltish cowpunchers gone
+wrong through rotten whiskey and luck breaking bad for them."
+
+"Is Soapy that kind?" she asked, but not because she did not know the
+answer.
+
+"He's the other kind, bad at the heart. But Curly was just a kid crazy
+with the heat when he made that fool play of rustling horses."
+
+A lad made his way to them with a note. Kate read it and turned to Dick.
+Her eyes were shining happily.
+
+"I've got news from Dad. It's all right. Soapy Stone has left town."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"A dozen of the big cattlemen signed a note and sent it to Stone. They
+told him that if he touched Curly he would never leave town alive. He was
+given word to get out of town at once."
+
+Maloney slapped his hand joyously on his thigh. "Fine! Might a-known Luck
+would find a way out. I tell you this thing has been worying me. Some of
+us wanted to take it off Curly's hands, but he wouldn't have it. He's a
+man from the ground up, Curly is. But your father found a way to butt in
+all right. Soapy couldn't stand out against the big ranchmen when they got
+together and meant business. He had to pull his freight."
+
+"Let me tell him the good news, Dick," she said, eagerly.
+
+"Sure. I'll send him right up."
+
+Bronzed almost to a coffee brown, with the lean lithe grace of youth
+garbed in the picturesque regalia of the _vaquero_, Flandrau was a taking
+enough picture to hold the roving eye of any girl. A good many centered
+upon him now, as he sauntered forward toward the Cullison box cool and
+easy and debonair. More than one pulse quickened at sight of him, for his
+gallantry, his peril and his boyishness combined to enwrap him in the
+atmosphere of romance. Few of the observers knew what a wary vigilance lay
+behind that careless manner.
+
+Kate gathered her skirts to make room for him beside her.
+
+"Have you heard? He has left town."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Soapy Stone. The cattlemen served notice on him to go. So he left."
+
+A wave of relief swept over the young man. "That's your father's fine
+work."
+
+"Isn't it good?" Her eyes were shining with gladness.
+
+"I'm plumb satisfied," he admitted. "I'm not hankering to shoot out my
+little difference with Soapy. He's too handy with a six-gun."
+
+"I'm so happy I don't know what to do."
+
+"I suppose now the hold-up will be put off. Did Sam and Blackwell go with
+him?"
+
+"No. He went alone."
+
+"Have you seen Sam yet?"
+
+"No, but I've seen Laura London. She's all the nice things you've said
+about her."
+
+Curly grew enthusiastic, "Ain't she the dandiest girl ever? She's the
+right kind of a friend. And pretty--with that short crinkly hair the color
+of ripe nuts! You would not think one person could own so many dimples as
+she does when she laughs. It's just like as if she had absorbed sunshine
+and was warming you up with her smile."
+
+"I see she has made a friend of you."
+
+"You bet she has."
+
+Miss Cullison shot a swift slant glance at him. "If you'll come back this
+afternoon you can meet her. I'm going to have all those dimples and all
+that sunshine here in the box with me."
+
+"Maybe that will draw Sam to you."
+
+"I'm hoping it will. But I'm afraid not. He avoids us. When they met he
+wouldn't speak to Father."
+
+"That's the boy of it. Just the same he feels pretty bad about the
+quarrel. I reckon there's nothing to do but keep an eye on him and be
+ready for Soapy's move when he makes it."
+
+"I'm so afraid something will happen to Sam."
+
+"Now don't you worry, Miss Kate. Sam is going to come out of this all
+right. We'll find a way out for him yet."
+
+Behind her smile the tears lay close. "You're the _best_ friend. How can
+we ever thank you for what you're doing for Sam?"
+
+A steer had escaped from the corral and was galloping down the track in
+front of the grandstand with its tail up. The young man's eyes followed
+the animal absently as he answered in a low voice.
+
+"Do you reckon I have forgot how a girl took a rope from my neck one
+night? Do you reckon I ever forget that?"
+
+"It was nothing. I just spoke to the boys."
+
+"Or that I don't remember how the man I had shot went bail for a rustler
+he did not know?"
+
+"Dick knew you. He told us about you."
+
+"Could he tell you any good about me? Could he say anything except that I
+was a worthless no-'count----?"
+
+She put her hand on his arm and stopped him. "Don't! I won't have you say
+such things about yourself. You were just a boy in trouble."
+
+"How many would have remembered that? But you did. You fought good for my
+life that night. I'll pay my debt, part of it. The whole I never could
+pay."
+
+His voice trembled in spite of the best he could do. Their eyes did not
+meet, but each felt the thrill of joy waves surging through their veins.
+
+The preliminaries in the rough riding contest took place that afternoon.
+Of the four who won the right to compete in the finals, two were Curly
+Flandrau and Dick Maloney. They went together to the Cullison box to get
+the applause due them.
+
+Kate Cullison had two guests with her. One was Laura London, the other he
+had never seen. She was a fair young woman with thick ropes of yellow hair
+coiled round her head. Deep-breasted and robust-loined, she had the rich
+coloring of the Scandinavian race and much of the slow grace peculiar to
+its women.
+
+The hostess pronounced their names. "Miss Anderson, this is Mr. Flandrau.
+Mr. Flandrau--Miss Anderson."
+
+Curly glanced quickly at Kate Cullison, who nodded. This then was the
+sweetheart of poor Mac.
+
+Her eyes filled with tears as she took the young man's hand. To his
+surprise Curly found his throat choking up. He could not say a word, but
+she understood the unspoken sympathy. They sat together in the back of the
+box.
+
+"I'd like to come and talk to you about--Mac. Can I come this evening,
+say?"
+
+"Please."
+
+Kate gave them no more time for dwelling on the past.
+
+"You did ride so splendidly," she told Curly.
+
+"No better than Dick did," he protested.
+
+"I didn't say any better than Dick. You both did fine."
+
+"The judges will say you ride better. You've got first place cinched,"
+Maloney contributed.
+
+"Sho! Just because I cut up fancy didoes on a horse. Grandstand stunts are
+not riding. For straight stick-to-your-saddle work I know my boss, and his
+name is Dick Maloney."
+
+"We'll know to-morrow," Laura London summed up.
+
+As it turned out, Maloney was the better prophet. Curly won the first
+prize of five hundred dollars and the championship belt. Dick took second
+place.
+
+Saguache, already inclined to make a hero of the young rustler, went wild
+over his victory. He could have been chosen mayor that day if there had
+been an election. To do him justice, Curly kept his head remarkably well.
+
+"To be a human clothes pin ain't so much," he explained to Kate. "Just
+because a fellow can stick to the hurricane deck of a bronch without
+pulling leather whilst it's making a milk shake out of him don't prove
+that he has got any more brains or decency than the law allows. Say, ain't
+this a peach of a mo'ning."
+
+A party of young people were taking an early morning ride through the
+outskirts of the little city. Kate pulled her pony to a walk and glanced
+across at him. He had taken off his hat to catch the breeze, and the sun
+was picking out the golden lights in his curly brown hair. She found
+herself admiring the sure poise of the head, the flat straight back, the
+virile strength of him.
+
+It did not occur to her that she herself made a picture to delight the
+heart. The curves of her erect tiger-lithe young body were modeled by
+nature to perfection. Radiant with the sheer pleasure of life, happy as
+God's sunshine, she was a creature vividly in tune with the glad morning.
+
+"Anyhow, I'm glad you won."
+
+Their eyes met. A spark from his flashed deep into hers as a star falls
+through the heavens on a summer night. Each looked away. After one
+breathless full-pulsed moment she recovered herself.
+
+"Wouldn't it be nice if----?"
+
+His gaze followed hers to two riders in front of them. One was Maloney,
+the other Myra Anderson. The sound of the girl's laughter rippled back to
+them on the light breeze.
+
+Curly smiled. "Yes, that would be nice. The best I can say for her--and
+it's a whole lot--is that I believe she's good enough for Dick."
+
+"And the best I can say for him is that he's good enough for her," the
+girl retorted promptly.
+
+"Then let's hope----"
+
+"I can't think of anything that would please me more."
+
+He looked away into the burning sun on the edge of the horizon. "I can
+think of one thing that would please me more," he murmured.
+
+She did not ask him what it was, nor did he volunteer an explanation.
+Perhaps it was from the rising sun her face had taken its swift glow of
+warm color.
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+LUCK
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+AT THE ROUND UP CLUB
+
+
+A big game had been in progress all night at the Round Up Club. Now the
+garish light of day streamed through the windows, but the electric cluster
+still flung down its yellow glare upon the table. Behind the players were
+other smaller tables littered with cigars, discarded packs, and glasses
+full or empty. The men were in their shirt sleeves. Big broad-shouldered
+fellows they were, with the marks of the outdoors hard-riding West upon
+them. No longer young, they were still full of the vigor and energy of
+unflagging strength. From bronzed faces looked steady unwinking eyes with
+humorous creases around the corners, hard eyes that judged a man and his
+claims shrewdly and with good temper. Most of them had made good in the
+land, and their cattle fed upon a thousand hills.
+
+The least among them physically was Luck Cullison, yet he was their
+recognized leader. There was some innate quality in this man with the
+gray, steel-chilled eyes that marked him as first in whatever company he
+chose to frequent. A good friend and a good foe, men thought seriously
+before they opposed him. He had made himself a power in the Southwest
+because he was the type that goes the limit when aroused. Yet about him,
+too, there was the manner of a large amiability, of the easy tolerance
+characteristic of the West.
+
+While Alec Flandrau shuffled and dealt, the players relaxed. Cigars were
+relit, drinks ordered. Conversation reverted to the ordinary topics that
+interested Cattleland. The price of cows, the good rains, the time of the
+fall roundup, were touched upon.
+
+The door opened to let in a newcomer, a slim, graceful man much younger
+than the others present, and one whose costume and manner brought
+additional color into the picture. Flandrau, Senior, continued to shuffle
+without turning his head. Cullison also had his back to the door, but the
+man hung his broad-rimmed gray hat on the rack--beside an exactly similar
+one that belonged to the owner of the Circle C--and moved leisurely
+forward till he was within range of his vision.
+
+"Going to prove up soon on that Del Oro claim of yours, Luck?" asked
+Flandrau.
+
+He was now dealing, his eyes on the cards, so that he missed the
+embarrassment in the faces of those about him.
+
+"On Thursday, the first day the law allows," Cullison answered quietly.
+
+Flandrau chuckled. "I reckon Cass Fendrick will be some sore."
+
+"I expect." Cullison's gaze met coolly the black, wrathful eyes of the man
+who had just come in.
+
+"Sort of put a crimp in his notions when you took up the canyon draw,"
+Flandrau surmised.
+
+Something in the strained silence struck the dealer as unusual. He looked
+up, and showed a momentary confusion.
+
+"Didn't know you were there, Cass. Looks like I put my foot in it sure
+that time. I ce'tainly thought you were an absentee," he apologized.
+
+"Or you wouldn't have been talking about me," retorted Fendrick acidly.
+The words were flung at Flandrau, but plainly they were meant as a
+challenge for Cullison.
+
+A bearded man, the oldest in the party, cut in with good-natured reproof.
+"I shouldn't wonder, Cass, but your name is liable to be mentioned just
+like that of any other man."
+
+"Didn't know you were in this, Yesler," Fendrick drawled insolently.
+
+"Oh, well, I butted in," the other laughed easily. He pushed a stack of
+chips toward the center of the table. "The pot's open."
+
+Fendrick, refused a quarrel, glared at the impassive face of Cullison, and
+passed to the rear room for a drink. His impudence needed fortifying, for
+he knew that since he had embarked in the sheep business he was not
+welcome at this club, that in fact certain members had suggested his name
+be dropped from the books. Before he returned to the poker table the drink
+he had ordered became three.
+
+The game was over and accounts were being straightened. Cullison was the
+heavy loser. All night he had been bucking hard luck. His bluffs had been
+called. The others had not come in against his strong hands. On a straight
+flush he had drawn down the ante and nothing more. To say the least, it
+was exasperating. But his face had showed no anger. He had played poker
+too many years, was too much a sport in the thorough-going frontier
+fashion, to wince when the luck broke badly for him.
+
+The settlement showed that the owner of the Circle C was twenty-five
+hundred dollars behind the game. He owed Mackenzie twelve hundred,
+Flandrau four hundred, and three hundred to Yesler.
+
+With Fendrick sitting in an easy chair just across the room, he found it a
+little difficult to say what otherwise would have been a matter of
+course.
+
+"My bank's busted just now, boys. Have to ask you to let it stand for a
+few days. Say, till the end of the week."
+
+Fendrick laughed behind the paper he was pretending to read. He knew quite
+well that Luck's word was as good as his bond, but he chose to suggest a
+doubt.
+
+"Maybe you'll explain the joke to us, Cass," the owner of the Circle C
+said very quietly.
+
+"Oh, I was just laughing at the things I see, Luck," returned the younger
+man with airy offense, his eyes on the printed sheet.
+
+"Meaning for instance?"
+
+"Just human nature. Any law against laughing?"
+
+Cullison turned his back on him. "See you on Thursday if that's soon
+enough, boys."
+
+"All the time you want, Luck. Let mine go till after the roundup if you'd
+rather," Mackenzie suggested.
+
+"Thursday suits me."
+
+Cullison rose and stretched. He had impressed his strong, dominant
+personality upon his clothes, from the high-heeled boots to the very
+wrinkles in the corduroy coat he was now putting on. He bad enemies, a
+good many of them, but his friends were legion.
+
+"Don't hurry yourself."
+
+"Oh, I'll rustle the money, all right. Coming down to the hotel?" Luck was
+reaching for his hat, but turned toward his friends as he spoke.
+
+Without looking again at Fendrick, he led the way to the street.
+
+The young man left alone cursed softly to himself, and ordered another
+drink. He knew he was overdoing it, but the meeting with Cullison had
+annoyed him exceedingly. The men had never been friends, and of late years
+they had been leaders of hostile camps. Both of them could be overbearing,
+and there was scarcely a week but their interests overlapped. Luck was
+capable of great generosity, but he could be obstinate as the rock of
+Gibraltar when he chose. There had been differences about the ownership of
+calves, about straying cattle, about political matters. Finally had come
+open hostility. Cass leased from the forestry department the land upon
+which Cullison's cattle had always run free of expense. Upon this he had
+put sheep, a thing in itself of great injury to the cattle interests. The
+stockmen had all been banded together in opposition to the forestry
+administration of the new regime, and Luck regarded Fendrick's action as
+treachery to the common cause.
+
+He struck back hard. In Arizona the open range is valuable only so long as
+the water holes also are common property or a private supply available.
+The Circle C cattle and those of Fendrick came down from the range to the
+Del Oro to water at a point where the canyon walls opened to a spreading
+valley. This bit of meadow Luck homesteaded and fenced on the north side,
+thus cutting the cattle of his enemy from the river.
+
+Cass was furious. He promptly tore down the fence to let his cattle and
+sheep through. Cullison rebuilt it, put up a shack at a point which
+commanded the approach, and set a guard upon it day and night. Open
+warfare had ensued, and one of the sheepherders had been beaten because he
+persisted in crossing the dead line.
+
+Now Cullison was going to put the legal seal on the matter by making final
+proof on his homestead. Cass knew that if he did so it would practically
+put him out of business. He would be at the mercy of his foe, who could
+ruin him if he pleased. Luck would be in a position to dictate terms
+absolutely.
+
+Nor did it make his defeat any more palatable to Cass that he had brought
+it on himself by his bad-tempered unneighborliness and by his overreaching
+disposition. A hundred times he had blacknamed himself for an arrant fool
+because he had not anticipated the move of his enemy and homesteaded on
+his own account.
+
+He felt that there must be some way out of the trap if he could only find
+it. Whenever the thought of eating humble pie to Luck came into his mind,
+the rage boiled in him. He swore he would not do it. Better a hundred
+times to see the thing out to a fighting finish.
+
+Taking the broad-rimmed gray hat he found on the rack, Cass passed out of
+the clubhouse and into the sun-bathed street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+LUCK MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
+
+
+Cullison and his friends proceeded down Papago street to the old plaza
+where their hotel was located. Their transit was an interrupted one, for
+these four cattlemen were among the best known in the Southwest. All along
+the route they scattered nods of recognition, friendly greetings, and
+genial banter. One of them--the man who had formerly been the hard-riding,
+quick-shooting sheriff of the county--met also scowls once or twice, to
+which he was entirely indifferent. Luck had no slavish respect for law,
+had indeed, if rumor were true, run a wild and stormy course in his youth.
+But his reign as sheriff had been a terror to lawbreakers. He had made
+enemies, desperate and unscrupulous ones, who had sworn to wipe him from
+among the living, and one of these he was now to meet for the first time
+since the man had stood handcuffed before him, livid with fury, and had
+sworn to cut his heart out at the earliest chance.
+
+It was in the lobby of the hotel that Cullison came plump against Lute
+Blackwell. For just a moment they stared at each other before the former
+sheriff spoke.
+
+"Out again, eh, Blackwell?" he said easily.
+
+From the bloodshot eyes one could have told at a glance the man had been
+drinking heavily. From whiskey he had imbibed a Dutch courage just bold
+enough to be dangerous.
+
+"Yes, I'm out--and back again, just as I promised, Mr. Sheriff," he
+threatened.
+
+The cattleman ignored his manner. "Then I'll give you a piece of advice
+gratis. Papago County has grown away from the old days. It has got past
+the two-gun man. He's gone to join the antelope and the painted Indian.
+You'll do well to remember that."
+
+The fellow leaned forward, sneering so that his ugly mouth looked like a
+crooked gash. "How about the one-gun man, Mr. Sheriff?"
+
+"He doesn't last long now."
+
+"Doesn't he?"
+
+The man's rage boiled over. But Luck was far and away the quicker of the
+two. His left hand shot forward and gripped the rising wrist, his right
+caught the hairy throat and tightened on it. He shook the convict as if he
+had been a child, and flung him, black in the face, against the wall,
+where he hung, strangling and sputtering.
+
+"I--I'll get you yet," the ruffian panted. But he did not again attempt to
+reach for the weapon in his hip pocket.
+
+"You talk too much with your mouth."
+
+With superb contempt, Luck slapped him, turned on his heel, and moved
+away, regardless of the raw, stark lust to kill that was searing this
+man's elemental brain.
+
+Across the convict's rage came a vision. He saw a camp far up in the
+Rincons, and seated around a fire five men at breakfast, all of them
+armed. Upon them had come one man suddenly. He had dominated the situation
+quietly, had made one disarm the others, had handcuffed the one he wanted
+and taken him from his friends through a hostile country where any hour he
+might be shot from ambush. Moreover, he had traveled with his prisoner two
+days, always cheerful and matter of fact, not at all uneasy as to what
+might lie behind the washes or the rocks they passed. Finally he had
+brought his man safely to Casa Grande, from whence he had gone over the
+road to the penitentiary. Blackwell had been the captured man, and he held
+a deep respect for the prowess of the officer who had taken him. The sheer
+pluck of the adventure had alone made it possible. For such an unflawed
+nerve Blackwell knew his jerky rage was no match.
+
+The paroled convict recovered his breath and slunk out of the hotel.
+
+Billie Mackenzie, owner of the Fiddleback ranch, laughed even while he
+disapproved. "Some day, Luck, you'll get yours when you are throwing
+chances at a coyote like this. You'll guess your man wrong, or he'll be
+one glass drunker than you figure on, and then he'll plug you through and
+through."
+
+"The man that takes chances lives longest, Mac," his friend replied,
+dismissing the subject carelessly. "I'm going to tuck away about three
+hours of sleep. So long." And with a nod he was gone to his room.
+
+"All the same Luck's too derned rash," Flandrau commented. "He'll run into
+trouble good and hard one of these days. When I'm in Rattlesnake Gulch I
+don't aim to pick posies too unobservant."
+
+Mackenzie looked worried. No man lived whom he admired so much as Luck
+Cullison. "And he hadn't ought to be sitting in these big games. He's hard
+up. Owes a good bit here and there. Always was a spender. First thing
+he'll have to sell the Circle C to square things. He'll pay us this week
+like he said he would. That's dead sure. He'd die before he'd fall down on
+it, now Fendrick has got his back up. But I swear I don't know where he'll
+raise the price. Money is so tight right now."
+
+That afternoon Luck called at every bank in Saguache. All of the bankers
+knew him and were friendly to him, but in spite of their personal regard
+they could do nothing for him.
+
+"It's this stringency, Luck," Jordan of the Cattlemen's National explained
+to him. "We can't let a dollar go even on the best security. You know I'd
+like to let you have it, but it wouldn't be right to the bank. We've got
+to keep our reserve up. Why, I'm lying awake nights trying to figure out a
+way to call in more of our money."
+
+"I'm not asking much, Jack."
+
+"Luck, I'd let you have it if I dared. Why, we're running close to the
+wind. Public confidence is a mighty ticklish thing. If I didn't have
+twenty thousand coming from El Paso on the Flyer to-night I'd be uneasy
+for the bank."
+
+"Twenty thousand on the Flyer. I reckon you ship by express, don't you?"
+
+"Yes. Don't mention it to anyone. That twenty thousand would come handy to
+a good many people in this country these times."
+
+"It would come right handy to me," Luck laughed ruefully. "I need every
+cent of it. After the beef roundup, I'll be on Easy Street, but it's going
+to be hard sledding to keep going till then."
+
+"You'll make a turn somehow. It will work out. Maybe when money isn't so
+tight I'll be able to do something for you."
+
+Luck returned to the hotel morosely, and tried to figure a way out of his
+difficulties. He was not going to be beaten. He never had accepted defeat,
+even in the early days when he had sometimes taken a lawless short cut to
+what he wanted. By God, he would not lose out after all these years of
+fighting. It had been his desperate need of money that had made him sit in
+last night's poker game. But he had succeeded only in making a bad
+situation worse. He knew his debts by heart, but he jotted them down on
+the back of an envelope and added them again.
+
+  Mortgage on ranch (due Oct. 1), $13,000
+  Note to First National,           3,500
+  Note to Reynolds,                 1,750
+  I O U to Mackenzie,               1,200
+  Same to Flandrau,                   400
+  Same to Yesler,                     300
+                                   ------
+                           Total, $20,150
+
+Twenty thousand was the sum he needed, and mighty badly, too.
+Absentmindedly he turned the envelope over and jotted down one or two
+other things. Twenty thousand dollars! Just the sum Jordan had coming to
+the bank on the Flyer. Subconsciously, Luck's fingers gave expression to
+his thoughts. $20,000. Half a dozen times they penciled it, and just below
+the figures, "W. & S. Ex. Co." Finally they wrote automatically the one
+word, "To-night."
+
+Luck looked at what he had written, laughed grimly, and tore the envelope
+in two. He threw the pieces in the waste paper basket.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+AN INITIALED HAT
+
+
+Mackenzie was reading the _Sentinel_ while he ate a late breakfast. He had
+it propped against the water bottle, so that it need not interfere with
+the transportation of sausages, fried potatoes, hot cakes, and coffee to
+their common destination.
+
+Trying to do two things at once has its disadvantages. A startling
+headline caught his eyes just as the cup was at his lips. Hot coffee,
+precipitately swallowed, scalded his tongue and throat. He set down the
+cup, swore mildly, and gave his attention to the news that had excited
+him. The reporter had run the story to a column, but the leading paragraph
+gave the gist of it:
+
+  While the citizens of Saguache were peacefully sleeping last night, a
+  lone bandit held up the messengers of the Western and Southern
+  Express Company, and relieved them of $20,000 just received from El
+  Paso on the Flyer.
+
+  Perry Hawley, the local manager of the company, together with Len
+  Rogers, the armed guard, had just returned from the depot, where the
+  money had been turned over to them and receipted for. Hawley had
+  unlocked the door of the office and had stepped in, followed by
+  Rogers, when a masked desperado appeared suddenly out of the
+  darkness, disarmed the guard and manager, took the money, passed
+  through the door and locked it after him, and vanished as silently as
+  he had come. Before leaving, he warned his victims that the place
+  would be covered for ten minutes and at any attempt to call for help
+  they would be shot. Notwithstanding this, the imprisoned men risked
+  their lives by raising the alarm.
+
+Further down the page Mackenzie discovered that the desperado was still at
+large, but that Sheriff Bolt expected shortly to lay hands on him.
+
+"I'll bet a dollar Nick Bolt didn't make any such claim to the reporter.
+He ain't the kind that brags," Mackenzie told himself.
+
+He folded the paper and returned to his room to make preparation to return
+to his ranch. The buzz of the telephone called him to the receiver. The
+voice of Cullison reached him.
+
+"That you, Mac. I'll be right up. No, don't come down. I'd rather see you
+alone."
+
+The owner of the Circle C came right to business. "I've made a raise, Mac,
+and while I've got it I'm going to skin off what's coming to you."
+
+He had taken a big roll of bills from his pocket, and was counting off
+what he had lost to his friend. The latter noticed that it all seemed to
+be in twenties.
+
+"Twelve hundred. That squares us, Mac."
+
+The Scotchman was vaguely uneasy without a definite reason for his
+anxiety. Only last night Cullison had told him not a single bank in town
+would advance him a dollar. Now he had money in plenty. Where had he got
+it?
+
+"No hurry at all, Luck. Pay when you're good and ready."
+
+"That's now."
+
+"Because I'll only put it in the Cattlemen's National. It's yours if you
+need it."
+
+"I'll let you know if I do," his friend nodded.
+
+Mackenzie's eye fell on a copy of the _Sentinel_ protruding from the
+other's pocket. "Read about the hold-up of the W. & S. Express? That
+fellow had his nerve with him."
+
+"Sho! This hold-up game's the easiest yet. He got the drop on them, and
+there was nothing to it. The key was still in the lock of the door. Well,
+when he gets through he steps out, turns the key, and rides away."
+
+"How did he know there was money coming in last night?"
+
+"There's always a leak about things of that sort. Somebody talks. I knew
+it myself for that matter."
+
+"You knew! Who told you?"
+
+"That's a secret, Mac. Come to think of it, I wish you wouldn't tell
+anybody that I knew. I don't want to get the man who told me in trouble."
+
+"Sure I won't." He passed to another phase of the subject. "The _Sentinel_
+says Bolt expects to catch the robber. Think he will?"
+
+"Not if the fellow knows his business. Bolt has nothing to go on. He has
+the whole Southwest to pick from. For all he knows, it was you."
+
+"Yes, but----"
+
+"Or more likely me." The gray eyes of the former sheriff held a frosty
+smile.
+
+In spite of that smile, or perhaps because of it, Mackenzie felt again
+that flash of doubt. "What's the use of talking foolishness, Luck? Course
+you didn't do it. Anybody would know that. Man, I whiles wonder at you,"
+he protested, relapsing into his native tongue as he sometimes did when
+excited.
+
+"I didn't say I did it. I said I might have done it"
+
+"Oh, well! You didn't. I know you too well."
+
+But the trouble was Mackenzie did not know him well enough. Cullison was
+hard up, close to the wall. How far would he go to save himself? Thirty
+years before when they had been wild young lads these two had hunted their
+fun together. Luck had always been the leader, had always been ready for
+any daredeviltry that came to his mind. He had been the kind to go the
+limit in whatever he undertook, to play it to a finish in spite of
+opposition. And what a man is he must be to the end. In his slow, troubled
+fashion, Mac wondered if his old side partner's streak of lawlessness
+would take him as far as a hold-up. Of course it would not, he assured
+himself; but he could not get the ridiculous notion out of his head. It
+drew his thoughts, and at last his steps toward the express office where
+the hold-up had taken place.
+
+He opened a futile conversation with Hawley, while Len Rogers, the guard
+who had not made good, looked at him with a persistent, hostile eye.
+
+"Hard luck," the cattleman condoled.
+
+"That's what you think, is it? You and your friends, too, I reckon."
+
+Mackenzie looked at the guard, who was plainly sore in every humiliated
+crevice of his brain. "I ain't speaking for my friends, Len, but for
+myself," he said amiably.
+
+Rogers laughed harshly. "Didn't know but what you might be speaking for
+one of your friends."
+
+"They can all speak for themselves when they have got anything to say."
+
+Hawley sent a swift, warning look toward his subordinate. The latter came
+to time sulkily. "I didn't say they couldn't."
+
+Mackenzie drifted from this unfriendly atmosphere to the courthouse. He
+found Sheriff Bolt in his office. It was that official's busy day, but he
+found time not only to see the owner of the Fiddleback, but to press upon
+him cordially an invitation to sit down and smoke. The Scotchman wanted to
+discuss the robbery, but was shy about attacking the subject. While he
+boggled at it, Bolt was off on another tack.
+
+Inside of a quarter of an hour the sheriff had found out all he wanted to
+know about the poker game, Cullison's financial difficulties, and the news
+that Luck had liquidated his poker debt since breakfast time. He had
+turned the simple cattleman's thoughts inside out, was aware of the doubt
+Billie had scarcely admitted to himself, and knew all he did except the
+one point Luck had asked him not to mention. Moreover, he had talked so
+casually that his visitor had no suspicion of what he was driving at.
+
+Mackenzie attempted a little sleuthing of his own. "This hold-up fellow
+kind of slipped one over on you last night, Bolt."
+
+"Maybe so, and maybe not."
+
+"Got a clew, have you?"
+
+"Oh, yes--yes." The sheriff looked straight at him. "I've a notion his
+initials are L. C."
+
+Billie felt himself flushing. "What makes you think that, Nick?"
+
+Bolt walked to a cupboard and unlocked it. His back was toward the
+cattleman, but the latter could see him take something from a shelf.
+Turning quickly, the sheriff tossed a hat upon the table.
+
+"Ever see this before?"
+
+Mac picked it up. His fingers were not quite steady, for a great dread
+drenched his heart like a rush of icy water. Upon that gray felt hat with
+the pinched crown was stamped the individuality--and the initials--of Luck
+Cullison.
+
+"Don't know as I recognize it," he lied, not very readily. "Not to know
+it. Why?"
+
+"Thought perhaps you might know it. The hold-up dropped it while getting
+away."
+
+Mackenzie's eyes flinched. "Dropped it. How was that?"
+
+"A man happened to come along San Miguel street just as the robber swung
+to his horse. He heard the cries of the men inside, guessed what was
+doing, and exchanged shots with the miscreant. He shot this hat off the
+fellow's head."
+
+"The _Sentinel_ didn't tell any such a story."
+
+"I didn't give that detail to the editor."
+
+"Who was the man that shot the robber?"
+
+"Cass Fendrick."
+
+"But he didn't claim to recognize the hold-up?" Mackenzie forced himself
+to ask this in spite of his fears.
+
+"Not for certain."
+
+"Then he--he had a guess."
+
+"Yes, Mac. He guessed a man whose initials are the same as those in that
+hat."
+
+"Who do you mean, Nick?"
+
+"I don't need to tell you that. You know who."
+
+"If you mean Luck Cullison, it's a damned lie," exploded the cattleman. He
+was furious with himself, for he felt now that he had been unsuspectingly
+helping to certify the suspicions of the sheriff. Like an idiot, he had
+let out much that told heavily against his friend.
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"Cass Fendrick is not on good terms with him. We all know that. Luck has
+got him in a hole. I wouldn't put it a bit above Cass to lie if he thought
+it would hurt Luck. Tell you it's a damned conspiracy. Man, can't you see
+that?"
+
+"What about this hat, with the two holes shot through the rim?"
+
+"Sho! We all wear hats just like that. Look at mine." Billie held it out
+eagerly.
+
+"Has yours an L. C. stamped in the sweat band?" Bolt asked with a smile.
+
+"I know you ain't his friend, Nick. But you want to be fair to him even if
+he did oppose your election." Mackenzie laid an appealing hand on the knee
+of the man seated opposite him.
+
+"I'm sheriff of Papago County. It doesn't make any difference who worked
+for or against me, Billie. I was elected, and I'm going to enforce the
+law."
+
+"And you think Luck would do a fool thing like this?"
+
+"I didn't say I thought so, but it's my business not to overlook any
+bets."
+
+"But you do believe it. Now, don't you?"
+
+"Since you've got to have an answer--yes, I do."
+
+"By heaven, I'd as lief think I did it myself."
+
+"You're a good friend," Bolt conceded. "By the way, I've got to pay for
+some supplies this morning. Can you cash a check for a hundred?"
+
+"I reckon so." Mackenzie drew from his pocket the roll Cullison had given
+him two hours before. He peeled five twenties from it. The sheriff
+observed that the prevailing denomination was the same.
+
+"Get these from Luck?" he asked carelessly.
+
+The cattleman stared at him, and the suspicion grew on him that he had
+been trapped again.
+
+"Why do you ask?"
+
+"Because it happens the bills stolen from the W. & S. were all twenties."
+
+"No, I didn't get them from Cullison. This is money I had," he answered
+sullenly.
+
+"Then I dare say you can let me see the money you got from him."
+
+"He paid me by check."
+
+"Banked it yet?"
+
+"That's my business, Nick."
+
+"And mine, Billie. I can find out from the bank if you have. Besides, I
+happen to know that Luck's bank account is overdrawn."
+
+"Some one has been at you to prejudice you, Bolt."
+
+"Nobody but Luck Cullison himself--and his actions."
+
+From the office of the sheriff, Mackenzie wandered to the club in search
+of Luck. He was thoroughly dispirited, both dreaded to meet Luck, and yet
+was anxious to do so. For he wanted to warn him, wanted to see him fall
+into one of his chill rages when he told him there were suspicions against
+him.
+
+Cullison had left the club, but Alec Flandrau was still there. Billie drew
+him into a corner, and learned that Luck had just settled with him.
+
+"Anyone see him give it to you, Alec?"
+
+"No. He took me upstairs to the library and paid me."
+
+"In bills?"
+
+"Yes--in twenties."
+
+"For God's sake, don't tell anybody that." In a dozen jerky sentences the
+owner of the Fiddleback told Flandrau of the suspicions of the sheriff.
+
+Together they went in search of Luck. But though they looked for him all
+day, he was not to be found. They might have concluded he had ridden out
+to the ranch, but his horse was still at the stable where he had left it.
+
+The last that had been seen of him Luck was walking along the plaza toward
+the hotel, not a hundred and fifty yards from the latter. A dozen men had
+spoken to him in the distance of a block. But he had not been seen to
+reach his hotel. He had not called for his room key. Somehow he had
+vanished, and none could tell how or where.
+
+To Bolt his disappearance was as good as a confession of guilt. He
+searched Luck's room at the hotel. Among other things, he found an old
+envelope with interesting data penciled on it.
+
+Before nightfall the word was whispered all over Saguache that Luck
+Cullison, pioneer cattleman and former sheriff, was suspected of the
+W. & S. Express robbery and had fled to save himself from arrest. At first
+men marveled that one so well known and so popular, one who had been so
+prominent in affairs, could be suspected of such a crime, but as they
+listened to the evidence and saw it fall like blocks of a building into
+place, the conviction grew that he was the masked bandit wanted by the
+sheriff.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+KATE USES HER QUIRT
+
+
+Red-headed Bob Cullison finished making the diamond hitch and proudly
+called his cousin Kate to inspect the packhorse.
+
+"You never saw the hitch thrown better, sis," he bragged, boy-like. "Uncle
+Luck says I do it well as he can."
+
+"It's fine, Bob," his cousin agreed, with the proper enthusiasm in her
+dark eyes. "You'll have to teach me how to do it one of these days."
+
+She was in a khaki riding skirt, and she pulled herself to the saddle of
+her own horse. From this position she gave him final instructions before
+leaving. "Stay around the house, Bob. Dad will call the ranch up this
+morning probably, and I want you to be where you can hear the 'phone ring.
+Tell him about that white-faced heifer, and to be sure to match the goods
+I gave him. You'll find dinner set out for you on the dining-room table."
+
+It had been on Wednesday morning that Luck Cullison disappeared from the
+face of the earth. Before twenty-four hours the gossip was being whispered
+in the most distant canyons of Papago County. The riders of the Circle C
+knew it, but none of them had yet told either Bob or Kate.
+
+Now it was Friday morning and Kate was beginning to wonder why her father
+did not call her up. Could it be that Soapy Stone was pulling off his
+train robbery at Tin Cup and her father so busy that he could not take
+time to ride to a telephone station? She did not like to leave the ranch
+just now, even for a few hours, but other business called her away.
+Sweeney was holding down the fort at the Del Oro against Fendrick's
+sheepherders, and his weekly supply of provisions had to be taken to him.
+Since she wanted to see with her own eyes how things were getting along at
+the canyon, she was taking the supplies in person.
+
+It was a beautiful morning, even for Arizona. The soft air was at its
+winiest best. The spring rains had carpeted the hills with an unusually
+fine grass, and the summer suns had not yet burnt this to the crisp brown
+of August. Her young heart expanded with the very joy of life. Oh, how
+good it was to be alive in a world of warm sunshine, of blue, unflecked
+sky, and of cool, light breezes. Swifts basked on the rocks or darted like
+arrows for safety, and lay palpitating with suspense. The clear call of
+the quails sounded to right and left of her. To her eager consciousness it
+was as if some bath of splendor had poured down overnight upon the old
+earth.
+
+She rode from sunlight into shadow and from shadow to sunlight again,
+winding along the hill trail that took her toward the Del Oro. After hours
+of travel she came to the saddle from which one looked down to the gap in
+the canyon walls that had been the common watering place of all men's
+cattle, but now was homesteaded by her father. Far below her it lay, a
+dwarfed picture with detail blurred to a vague impressionistic map. She
+could see the hut, the fence line running parallel to the stream on the
+other side, some grazing cattle, Sweeney's horse in the corral.
+
+The piteous bleating of a lamb floated to her. Kate dismounted and made
+her way toward the sound. A pathetic little huddle of frightened life
+tried to struggle free at her approach. The slim leg of the lamb had
+become wedged at the intersection of several rocks in such a way that it
+could not be withdrawn.
+
+Kate pulled the boulder away, and released the prisoner. It looked at her
+and bleated without attempting to move. She took the soft, woolly creature
+in her arms, and examined the wounded limb, all torn and raw from its
+efforts to escape. A wound, she recalled, ought to be washed with cold
+water and bound. Returning to her horse, she put the little animal in
+front of the saddle and continued on the trail that led down to the
+river.
+
+Sweeney came out from the cabin and hailed her. He was a squat,
+weather-beaten man, who had ridden for her father ever since she could
+remember.
+
+"What in Mexico you got there?" he asked in surprise.
+
+She explained the circumstances under which she had found the lamb.
+
+"And what you aiming to do with it?"
+
+"I'm going to tie up its leg and take it across the river. Some of the
+C. F. herders are sure to find it before night."
+
+"Sho! What are you fooling with Cass Fendrick's sheep for?" he grumbled.
+
+"It isn't a sheep, but a lamb. And I'm not going to see it suffer, no
+matter who owns it."
+
+She was already walking toward the river. Protestingly he followed, and
+lent a hand at tying up the leg with the girl's handkerchief.
+
+"I'll just ride across and leave it outside the fence," she said.
+
+"Lemme go. I know the river better."
+
+Sweeney did not wait for her assent, but swung to the saddle. She handed
+him the lamb, and he forded the stream. At no place did the water come
+above the fetlocks of the horse.
+
+"I'm so glad you know the dangerous places. Be careful you don't drown,"
+she mocked.
+
+The rider's laughter rang back to her. One of her jokes went a long way
+with Sweeney. The danger of the river had been the flimsiest of excuses.
+What he had been afraid of was that one of Fendrick's herders might be
+lurking in some arroyo beyond the fence. There was little chance that he
+would dare hurt her, but he might shout something unpleasant.
+
+In point of fact, Sweeney saw some one disappear into a wash as he reached
+the fence. The rider held up the lamb, jabbered a sentence of broncho
+Spanish at the spot where the man had been, put down his bleating burden,
+and cantered back to his own side of the river without unnecessary delay.
+No bullets had yet been fired in the Cullison-Fendrick feud, but a
+"greaser" was liable to do anything, according to the old puncher's
+notion. Anyhow, he did not want to be a temptation to anyone with a gun in
+his hand.
+
+An hour later, Kate, on the return trip, topped the rise where she had
+found the lamb. Pulling up her pony, to rest the horse from its climb, she
+gazed back across the river to the rolling ridges among which lay the
+C. F. ranch. Oddly enough, she had never seen Cass Fendrick. He had come
+to Papago County a few years before, and had bought the place from an
+earlier settler. In the disagreement that had fallen between the two men,
+she was wholly on the side of her father. Sometimes she had wondered what
+manner of man this Cass Fendrick might be; disagreeable, of course, but
+after precisely what fashion.
+
+"Your property, I believe, Miss Cullison."
+
+She turned at sound of the suave, amused drawl, and looked upon a dark,
+slim young man of picturesque appearance. He was bowing to her with an
+obvious intention of overdoing it. Voice and manner had the habit of the
+South rather than of the West. A kind of indolent irony sat easily upon
+the swarthy face crowned with a black sleek head of hair.
+
+Her instinct told the girl who he was. She did not need to ask herself any
+longer what Cass Fendrick looked like.
+
+He was holding out to her the bloodstained kerchief that had been tied to
+the lamb's leg.
+
+"I didn't care to have it returned," she told him with cold civility.
+
+"Now, if you'd only left a note to say so, it would have saved me a quite
+considerable climb," he suggested.
+
+In spite of herself a flicker of amusement lit her eyes. She had a sense
+of humor, "I did not think of that, and since you have troubled to return
+it to me, I can only say thank you."
+
+She held out her hand for the kerchief, but he did not move. "I don't know
+but what I'll keep it, after all, for a souvenir. Just to remind me that
+Luck Cullison's daughter went out of her way to help one of Cass
+Fendrick's sheep."
+
+She ignored his sardonic mockery. "I don't let live creatures suffer when
+I can help it. Are you going to give me my handkerchief?"
+
+"Haven't made up my mind yet. Perhaps I'll have it washed and bring it
+home to you."
+
+She decided that he was trying to flirt with her, and turned the head of
+her horse to start.
+
+"Now your father has pulled his freight, I expect it will be safe to
+call," he added.
+
+The bridle rein tightened. "What nonsense are you saying about my
+father?"
+
+"No news, Miss Cullison; just what everybody is saying, that he has gone
+to cover on account of the hold-up."
+
+A chill fear drenched her heart. "Do you mean the hold-up of the Limited
+at Tin Cup?"
+
+"No, I don't." He looked at her sharply. "Mean to say you haven't heard of
+the hold-up of the W.& S. Express Company at Saguache?"
+
+"No. When was it?"
+
+"Tuesday night. The man got away with twenty thousand dollars."
+
+"And what has my father to do with that?" she demanded haughtily.
+
+A satisfied spleen purred in his voice. "My dear young lady, that is what
+everyone is asking."
+
+"What do you mean? Say it." There was fear as well as anger in her voice.
+Had her father somehow got into trouble trying to save Sam?
+
+"Oh, I'm saying nothing. But what Sheriff Bolt means is that when he gets
+his handcuffs on Luck Cullison, he'll have the man that can tell him where
+that twenty thousand is."
+
+"It's a lie."
+
+He waved his hand airily, as one who declined responsibility in the
+matter, but his dark, saturnine face sparkled with malice.
+
+"Maybe so. Seems to be some evidence, but I reckon he can explain that
+away--when he comes back. The hold-up dropped a hat with the initials
+L. C. in the band, since identified as his. He had lost a lot of money at
+poker. Next day he paid it. He had no money in the bank, but maybe he
+found it growing on a cactus bush."
+
+"You liar!" she panted, eyes blazing.
+
+"I'll take that from you, my dear, because you look so blamed pretty when
+you're mad; but I wouldn't take it from him--from your father, who is
+hiding out in the hills somewhere."
+
+Anger uncurbed welled from her in an inarticulate cry. He had come close
+to her, and was standing beside the stirrup, one bold hand upon the rein.
+Her quirt went swiftly up and down, cut like a thin bar of red-hot iron
+across his uplifted face. He stumbled back, half blind with the pain.
+Before he could realize what had happened the spur on her little boot
+touched the side of the pony, and it was off with a bound. She was
+galloping wildly down the trail toward home.
+
+He looked after her, fingers caressing the welt that burned his cheek.
+
+"You'll pay for that, Kate Cullison," he said aloud to himself.
+
+Anger stung him, but deeper than his rage was a growing admiration. How
+she had lashed out at him because he had taunted her of her father. By
+Jove, a girl like that would be worth taming! His cold eyes glittered as
+he put the bloodstained kerchief in his pocket. She was not through with
+him yet--not by a good deal.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+"AIN'T SHE THE GAMEST LITTLE THOROUGHBRED?"
+
+
+Kate galloped into the ranch plaza around which the buildings were set,
+slipped from her pony, and ran at once to the telephone. Bob was on a side
+porch mending a bridle.
+
+"Have you heard anything from dad?" she cried through the open door.
+
+"Nope," he answered, hammering down a rivet.
+
+Kate called up the hotel where Maloney was staying at Saguache, but could
+not get him. She tried the Del Mar, where her father and his friends
+always put up when in town. She asked in turn for Mackenzie, for Yesler,
+for Alec Flandrau.
+
+While she waited for an answer, the girl moved nervously about the room.
+She could not sit down or settle herself at anything. For some instinct
+told her that Fendrick's taunt was not a lie cut out of whole cloth.
+
+The bell rang. Instantly she was at the telephone. Mackenzie was at the
+other end of the line.
+
+"Oh, Uncle Mac." She had called him uncle ever since she could remember.
+"What is it they are saying about dad? Tell me it isn't true," she
+begged.
+
+"A pack of lees, lassie." His Scotch idiom and accent had succumbed to
+thirty years on the plains, but when he became excited it rose triumphant
+through the acquired speech of the Southwest.
+
+"Then is he there--in Saguache, I mean."
+
+"No-o. He's not in town."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"Hoots! He'll just have gone somewhere on business."
+
+He did not bluff well. Through the hearty assurance she pierced to the
+note of trouble in his voice.
+
+"You're hiding something from me, Uncle Mac. I won't have it. You tell me
+the truth--the whole truth."
+
+In three sentences he sketched it for her, and when he had finished he
+knew by the sound of her voice that she was greatly frightened.
+
+"Something has happened to him. I'm coming to town."
+
+"If you feel you'd rather. Take the stage in to-morrow."
+
+"No. I'm coming to-night. I'll bring Bob. Save us two rooms at the
+hotel."
+
+"Better wait till to-morrow. Forty miles is a long ride, lass."
+
+"No, I can't wait. Have Curly Flandrau come to the Del Mar if he's in
+town--and Dick Maloney, too. That's all. Good-by."
+
+She turned to her cousin, who was standing big-eyed at her elbow.
+
+"What is it, Kate? Has anything happened to Uncle Luck?"
+
+She swallowed a lump in her throat. "Dad's gone, Bob. Nobody knows where.
+They say--the liars--that he robbed the W. & S. Express Company."
+
+Suddenly her face went down into her forearm on the table and sobs began
+to rack her body. The boy, staggered at this preposterous charge, could
+only lay his hand on her shoulder and beg her not to cry.
+
+"It'll be all right, Kate. Wait till Uncle Luck comes back. He'll make 'em
+sick for talking about him."
+
+"But suppose he--suppose he----" She dared not complete what was in her
+mind, that perhaps he had been ambushed by some of his enemies and
+killed.
+
+"You bet they'll drop into a hole and pull it in after them when Uncle
+Luck shows up," the boy bragged with supreme confidence.
+
+His cousin nodded, choking down her sobs. "Of course. It--it'll come out
+all right--as soon as he finds out what they're saying. Saddle two horses
+right away, Bob."
+
+"Sure. We'll soon find where he is, I bet you."
+
+The setting sun found their journey less than half done. The brilliant
+rainbow afterglow of sunset faded to colder tints, and then disappeared.
+The purple saw-toothed range softened to a violet hue. With the coming of
+the moon the hard, dry desert lost detail, took on a loveliness of tone
+and outline that made it an idealized painting of itself. Myriads of stars
+were out, so that the heavens seemed sown with them as an Arizona hillside
+is in spring with yellow poppies.
+
+Kate was tortured with anxiety, but the surpassing beauty that encompassed
+them was somehow a comfort to her. Deep within her something denied that
+her father could be gone out of a world so good. And if he were alive,
+Curly Flandrau would find him--Curly and Dick between them. Luck Cullison
+had plenty of good friends who would not stand by and see him wronged.
+
+Any theory of his disappearance that accepted his guilt did not occur to
+her mind for an instant. The two had been very close to each other. Luck
+had been in the habit of saying smilingly that she was his majordomo, his
+right bower. Some share of his lawless temperament she inherited, enough
+to feel sure that this particular kind of wrongdoing was impossible for
+him. He was reckless, sometimes passionate, but she did not need to
+reassure herself that he was scrupulously honest.
+
+This brought her back to the only other tenable hypothesis--foul play. And
+from this she shrank with a quaking heart. For surely if his enemies
+wished to harm him they would destroy him, and this was a conclusion
+against which she fought desperately.
+
+The plaza clock boomed ten strokes as they rode into Saguache. Mackenzie
+was waiting for them on the steps of the hotel.
+
+"Have they--has anything been----?"
+
+The owner of the Fiddleback shook his grizzled head. "Not yet. Didn't you
+meet Curly?"
+
+"No."
+
+"He rode out to come in with you, but if he didn't meet you by ten he was
+to come back. You took the north road, I reckon?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+His warm heart was wrung for the young woman whose fine eyes stared with
+dumb agony from a face that looked very white in the shining moonlight. He
+put an arm around her shoulders, and drew her into the hotel with cheerful
+talk.
+
+"Come along, Bob. We're going to tuck away a good supper first off. While
+you're eating, I'll tell you all there is to be told."
+
+Kate opened her lips to say that she was not hungry and could not possibly
+eat a bite, but she thought better of it. Bob had tasted nothing since
+noon, and of course he must be fed.
+
+The lad fell to with an appetite grief had not dulled. His cousin could at
+first only pick at what was set before her. It seemed heartless to be
+sitting down in comfort to so good a supper while her father was in she
+knew not how great distress. Grief swelled in her throat, and forced back
+the food she was trying to eat.
+
+Mackenzie broke off his story to remonstrate. "This won't do at all, Kate.
+If you're going to help find Luck, you've got to keep yourself fit. Now,
+you try this chicken, honey."
+
+"I--just can't, Uncle Mac."
+
+"But you need it."
+
+"I know," the girl confessed, and as she said it broke down again into
+soft weeping.
+
+Mac let her have her cry out, petting her awkwardly. Presently she dried
+her eyes, set at her supper in a businesslike way, heard the story to an
+end quietly, and volunteered one heartbroken comment.
+
+"As if father _could_ do such a thing."
+
+The cattleman agreed eagerly. There were times when he was full of doubt
+on that point, but he was not going to let her know it.
+
+Curly came into the room, and the girl rose to meet him. He took her
+little hand in his tanned, muscular one, and somehow from his grip she
+gathered strength. He would do all that could be done to find her father,
+just as he had done so much to save her brother.
+
+"I'm so glad you've come," she said simply.
+
+"I'm glad you're glad," he smiled cheerfully.
+
+He knew she had been crying, that she was suffering cruelly, but he
+offered her courage rather than maudlin sympathy. Hope seemed to flow
+through her veins at the meeting of the eyes. Whatever a man could do for
+her would be done by Curly.
+
+They talked the situation over together.
+
+"As it looks to me, we've got to find out two things--first, what has
+become of your father, and, second, who did steal that money."
+
+"Now you're talking," Mackenzie agreed. "I always did say you had a good
+head, Curly."
+
+"I don't see it yet, but there's some link between the two things. I mean
+between the robbery and his disappearance."
+
+"How do you mean?" Kate asked.
+
+"We'll say the robbers were his enemies--some of the Soapy Stone outfit
+maybe. They have got him out of the way to satisfy their grudge and to
+make people think he did it. Unfortunately there is evidence that makes it
+look as if he might have done it--what they call corroborating
+testimony."
+
+Billie Mackenzie scratched his gray poll. "Hold on, Curly. This notion of
+a link between the hold-up and Luck's leaving is what the other side is
+tying to. Don't we want to think different from them?"
+
+"We do. They think he is guilty. We know he isn't."
+
+"What does Sheriff Bolt think?"
+
+Curly waved the sheriff aside. "It don't matter what he thinks, Miss Kate.
+He _says_ he thinks Luck was mixed up in the hold-up. Maybe that's what he
+thinks, but we don't want to forget that Cass Fendrick made him sheriff
+and your father fought him to a fare-you-well."
+
+"Then we can't expect any help from him."
+
+"Not much. He ain't a bad fellow, Bolt ain't. He'll be square, but his
+notions are liable to be warped."
+
+"I'd like to talk with him," the young woman announced.
+
+"All right," Mackenzie assented. "To-morrow mo'ning----"
+
+"No, to-night, Uncle Mac."
+
+The cattleman looked at her in surprise. Her voice rang with decision. Her
+slight figure seemed compact of energy and resolution. Was this the girl
+who had been in helpless tears not ten minutes before?
+
+"I'll see if he's at his office. Maybe he'll come up," Curly said.
+
+"No. I'll go down to the courthouse if he's there."
+
+Flandrau got Bolt on the telephone at his room. After a little grumbling
+he consented to meet Miss Cullison at his office.
+
+"Bob, you must go to bed. You're tired out," his cousin told him.
+
+"I ain't, either," he denied indignantly. "Tired nothing. I'm going with
+you."
+
+Curly caught Kate's glance, and she left the boy to him.
+
+"Look here, Bob. We're at the beginning of a big job. Some of us have to
+keep fresh all the time. We'll work in relays. To-night you sleep so as to
+be ready to-morrow."
+
+This way of putting it satisfied the boy. He reluctantly consented to go
+to bed, and was sound asleep almost as soon as his head struck the
+pillow.
+
+At the office of the sheriff, Kate cut to essentials as soon as
+introductions were over.
+
+"Do you think my father robbed the W. & S. Express Company, Mr. Bolt?" she
+asked.
+
+Her plainness embarrassed the officer.
+
+"Let's took at the facts, Miss Cullison," he began amiably. "Then you tell
+me what you would think in my place. Your father needed money mighty bad.
+There's no doubt at all about that. Here's an envelope on which he had
+written a list of his debts. You'll notice they run to just a little more
+than twenty thousand. I found this in his bedroom the day he
+disappeared."
+
+She took the paper, glanced at it mechanically, and looked at the sheriff
+again. "Well? Everybody wants money. Do they all steal it?"
+
+"Turn that envelope over, Miss Cullison. Notice how he has written there
+half a dozen times in a row, '$20,000,' and just below it twice, 'W. & S.
+Ex. Co.' Finally, the one word, 'To-night.'"
+
+She read it all, read it with a heart heavy as lead, and knew that there
+he had left in his own strong, bold handwriting convincing evidence
+against himself. Still, she did not doubt him in the least, but there
+could be no question now that he knew of the intended shipment, that
+absent-mindedly he had jotted down this data while he was thinking about
+it in connection with his own debts.
+
+The sheriff went on tightening the chain of evidence in a voice that for
+all its kindness seemed to her remorseless as fate. "It turns out that Mr.
+Jordan of the Cattleman's National Bank mentioned this shipment to your
+father that morning. Mr. Cullison was trying to raise money from him, but
+he couldn't let him have it. Every bank in the city refused him a loan.
+Yet next morning he paid off two thousand dollars he owed from a poker
+game."
+
+"He must have borrowed the money from some one," she said weakly.
+
+"That money he paid in twenty-dollar bills. The stolen express package was
+in twenties. You know yourself that this is a gold country. Bills ain't so
+plentiful."
+
+The girl's hand went to her heart. Faith in her father was a rock not to
+be washed away by any amount of evidence. What made her wince was the
+amount of circumstantial testimony falling into place so inexorably
+against him.
+
+"Is that all?" she asked despairingly.
+
+"I wish it were, Miss Cullison. But it's not. A man came round the corner
+and shot at the robber as he was escaping. His hat fell off. Here it is."
+
+As Kate took the hat something seemed to tighten around her heart. It
+belonged to her father. His personality was stamped all over it. She even
+recognized a coffee stain on the under side of the brim. There was no need
+of the initials L. C. to tell her whose it had been. A wave of despair
+swept over her. Again she was on the verge of breaking down, but
+controlled herself as with a tight curb.
+
+Bolt's voice went on. "Next day your father disappeared, Miss Cullison. He
+was here in town all morning. His friends knew that suspicion was
+fastening on him. The inference is that he daren't wait to have the truth
+come out. Mind, I don't say he's guilty. But it looks that way. Now,
+that's my case. If you were sheriff in my place, what would you do?"
+
+Her answer flashed back instantly. "If I knew Luck Cullison, I would be
+sure there was a mistake somewhere, and I would look for foul play. I
+would believe anything except that he was guilty--anything in the world.
+You know he has enemies."
+
+The sheriff liked her spirited defense no less because he could not agree
+with her. "Yes, I know that. The trouble is that these incriminating facts
+don't come in the main from his enemies."
+
+"You say the robber had on his hat, and that somebody shot at him. Whoever
+it was must know the man wasn't father."
+
+Gently Bolt took this last prop from her hope. "He is almost sure the man
+was your father."
+
+A spark of steel came into her dark eyes. "Who is the man?"
+
+"His name is Fendrick."
+
+"Cass Fendrick?" She whipped the word at him, leaning forward in her chair
+rigidly with her hands clenched on the arms of it. One could have guessed
+that the sound of the name had unleashed a dormant ferocity in her.
+
+"Yes. I know he and your father aren't friends. They have had some
+trouble. For that reason he was very reluctant to give your father's
+name."
+
+The girl flamed. "Reluctant! Don't you believe it? He hates Father like
+poison." A flash of inspiration came to her. She rose, slim and tall and
+purposeful. "Cass Fendrick is the man you want, and he is the man I want.
+He robbed the express company, and he has killed my father or abducted
+him. I know now. Arrest him to-night."
+
+"I have to have evidence," Bolt said quietly.
+
+"I can give you a motive. Listen. Father expected to prove up yesterday on
+his Del Oro claim. If he had done so Cass Fendrick's sheep would have been
+cut off from the water. Father had to be got out of the way not later than
+Wednesday, or that man would have been put out of business. He was very
+bitter about it. He had made threats."
+
+"It would take more than threats to get rid of the best fighting man in
+Arizona, right in the middle of the day, in the heart of the town, without
+a soul knowing about it." The officer added with a smile: "I'd hate to
+undertake the contract, give me all the help I wanted."
+
+"He was trapped somehow, of course," Curly cut in. For he was sure that in
+no other way could Luck Cullison have been overcome.
+
+"If you'll only tell me how, Flandrau," Bolt returned.
+
+"I don't know how, but we'll find out."
+
+"I hope so."
+
+Kate felt his doubt, and it was like a spark to powder.
+
+"Fendrick is your friend. You were elected by his influence. Perhaps you
+want to prove that Father did this."
+
+"The people elected me, Miss Cullison," answered Bolt, with grave
+reproach. "I haven't any friends or any enemies when it comes to doing
+what I've sworn to do."
+
+"Then you ought to know Father couldn't have done this. There is such a
+thing as character. Luck Cullison simply _couldn't_ be a thief."
+
+Mackenzie's faith had been strengthened by the insistent loyalty of the
+girl. "That's right, Nick. Let me tell you something else. Fendrick knew
+Luck was going to prove up on Thursday. He heard him tell us at the
+Round-Up Club Tuesday morning."
+
+The sheriff summed up. "You've proved Cass had interests that would be
+helped if Mr. Cullison were removed. But you haven't shaken the evidence
+against Luck."
+
+"We've proved Cass Fendrick had to get Father out of the way on the very
+day he disappeared. One day later would have been too late. We've shown
+his enmity. Any evidence that rests on his word is no good. The truth
+isn't in the man."
+
+"Maybe not, but he didn't make this evidence."
+
+Kate had another inspirational flash. "He did--some of it. Somehow he got
+hold of father's hat, and he manufactured a story about shooting it from
+the robber's head. But to make his story stick he must admit he was on the
+ground at the time of the hold-up. So he must have known the robbery was
+going to take place. It's as plain as old Run-A-Mile's wart that he knew
+of it because he planned it himself."
+
+Bolt's shrewd eyes narrowed to a smile. "You prove to me that Cass had
+your father's hat _before the hold-up_, and I'll take some stock in the
+story."
+
+"And in the meantime," suggested Curly.
+
+"I'll keep right on looking for Luck Cullison, but I'll keep an eye on
+Cass Fendrick, too."
+
+Kate took up the challenge confidently. "I'll prove he had the hat--at
+least I'll try to pretty hard. It's the truth, and it must come out
+somehow."
+
+After he had left her at the hotel, Curly walked the streets with a sharp
+excitement tingling his blood. He had lived his life among men, and he
+knew little about women and their ways. But his imagination seized avidly
+upon this slim, dark girl with the fine eyes that could be both tender and
+ferocious, with the look of combined delicacy and strength in every line
+of her.
+
+"Ain't she the gamest little thoroughbred ever?" he chuckled to himself.
+"Stands the acid every crack. Think of her standing pat so game--just like
+she did for me that night out at the ranch. She's the best argument Luck
+has got."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+TWO HATS ON A RACK
+
+
+One casual remark of Mackenzie had given Kate a clew. Even before she had
+explained it, Curly caught the point and began to dig for the truth. For
+though he was almost a boy, the others leaned on him with the expectation
+that in the absence of Maloney he would take the lead. Before they
+separated for the night he made Mackenzie go over every detail he could
+remember of the meeting between Cullison and Fendrick at the Round-Up
+Club. This was the last time the two men had been seen together in public,
+and he felt it important that he should know just what had taken place.
+
+In the morning he and Kate had a talk with his uncle on the same subject.
+Not content with this, he made the whole party adjourn to the club rooms
+so that he might see exactly where Luck had sat and the different places
+the sheepman had stood from the time he entered until the poker players
+left.
+
+Together Billie Mackenzie and Alec Flandrau dramatized the scene for the
+young people. Mac personated the sheepman, came into the room, hung up his
+hat, lounged over to the poker table, said his little piece as well as he
+could remember it, and passed into the next room. Flandrau, Senior, taking
+the role of Cullison, presently got up, lifted his hat from the rack, and
+went to the door.
+
+With excitement trembling in her voice, the girl asked an eager question.
+"Were their hats side by side like that on adjoining pegs?"
+
+Billie turned a puzzled face to his friend. "How about that, Alec?"
+
+"That's how I remember it."
+
+"Same here, my notion is."
+
+"Both gray hats?" Curly cut in.
+
+His uncle looked helplessly at the other man. "Can't be sure of that.
+Luck's was gray all right."
+
+"Cass wore a gray hat too, seems to me," Mackenzie contributed, scratching
+his gray hair.
+
+"Did Father hesitate at all about which one to take?"
+
+"No-o. I don't reckon he did. He had turned to ask me if I was
+coming--wasn't looking at the hats at all."
+
+Curly looked at Kate and nodded. "I reckon we know how Cass got Mr.
+Cullison's hat. It was left on the rack."
+
+"How do you mean?" his uncle asked.
+
+"Don't you see?" the girl explained, her eyes shining with excitement.
+"Father took the wrong hat. You know how absent-minded he is sometimes."
+
+Mackenzie slapped his knee. "I'll bet a stack of blues you've guessed
+it."
+
+"There's a way to make sure," Curly said.
+
+"I don't get you."
+
+"Fendrick couldn't wear Mr. Cullison's hat around without the risk of
+someone remembering it later. What would he do then?"
+
+Kate beamed. "Buy another at the nearest store."
+
+"That would be my guess. And the nearest store is the New York Emporium.
+We've got to find out whether he did buy one there on Tuesday some time
+after nine o'clock in the morning."
+
+The girl's eyes were sparkling. She bustled with businesslike energy.
+"I'll go and ask right away."
+
+"Don't you think we'd better let Uncle Alec find out? He's not so likely
+to stir up curiosity," Curly suggested.
+
+"That's right. Let me earn my board and keep," the owner of the Map of
+Texas volunteered.
+
+Within a quarter of an hour Alec Flandrau joined the others at the hotel.
+He was beaming like a schoolboy who has been given an unexpected holiday.
+
+"You kids are right at the head of the class in the detective game. Cass
+bought a brown hat, about 9:30 in the mo'ning. Paid five dollars for it.
+Wouldn't let them deliver the old one but took it with him in a paper
+sack."
+
+With her lieutenants flanking her Kate went straight to the office of the
+sheriff. Bolt heard the story out and considered it thoughtfully.
+
+"You win, Miss Cullison. You haven't proved Fendrick caused your father's
+disappearance by foul play, and you haven't proved he committed the
+robbery. Point of fact I don't think he did either one. But it certainly
+looks like he may possibly have manufactured evidence."
+
+Curly snorted scornfully. "You're letting your friend down easy, Mr. Bolt.
+By his own story he was on the ground a minute after the robbery took
+place. How do we know he wasn't there a minute before? For if he didn't
+know the hold-up was going to occur why did he bring Mr. Cullison's hat
+with him punctured so neatly with bullet holes?"
+
+"I'll bet a thousand dollars he is at the bottom of this whole thing,"
+Mackenzie added angrily.
+
+The sheriff flushed. "You gentlemen are entitled to your opinions just as
+I'm entitled to mine. You haven't even proved he took Mr. Cullison's hat;
+you've merely showed he may have done it."
+
+"We've given you a motive and some evidence. How much more do you want?"
+Curly demanded.
+
+"Hold your hawses a while, Flandrau, and look at this thing reasonable.
+You're all prejudiced for Cullison and against Fendrick. Talk about
+evidence! There's ten times as much against your friend as there is
+against Cass."
+
+"Then you'll not arrest Fendrick?"
+
+"When you give me good reason to do it," Bolt returned doggedly.
+
+"That's all right, Mr. Sheriff. Now we know where you stand," Flandrau,
+Senior, said stiffly.
+
+The harassed official mopped his face with a bandanna. "Sho! You all make
+me tired. I'm not Fendrick's friend while I'm in this office any more than
+I'm Luck's, But I've got to use my judgment, ain't I?"
+
+The four adjourned to meet at the Del Mar for a discussion of ways and
+means.
+
+"We'll keep a watch on Fendrick--see where he goes, who he talks to, what
+he does. Maybe he'll make a break and give himself away," Curly said
+hopefully.
+
+"But my father--we must rescue him first."
+
+"As soon as we find where he is. Me, I'm right hopeful all's well with
+him. Killing him wouldn't help Cass any, because you and Sam would prove
+up on the claim. But if he could hold your father a prisoner and get him
+to sign a relinquishment to him he would be in a fine position."
+
+"But Father wouldn't sign. He ought to know that."
+
+"Not through fear your father wouldn't. But if Fendrick could get at him
+some way he might put down his John Hancock. With this trouble of Sam
+still unsettled and the Tin Cup hold-up to be pulled off he might sign."
+
+"If we could only have Fendrick arrested--"
+
+"What good would that do? If he's guilty he wouldn't talk. And if he is
+holding your father somewhere in the hills it would only be serving notice
+that we were getting warm. No, I'm for a still hunt. Let Cass ride around
+and meet his partners in this deal. We'll keep an eye on him all right."
+
+"Maybe you're right," Kate admitted with a sigh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+ANONYMOUS LETTERS
+
+
+Sheriff Bolt, though a politician, was an honest man. It troubled him that
+Cullison's friends believed him to be a partisan in a matter of this sort.
+For which reason he met more than half way Curly's overtures. Young
+Flandrau was in the office of the sheriff a good deal, because he wanted
+to be kept informed of any new developments in the W. & S. robbery case.
+
+It was on one of those occasions that Bolt tossed across to him a letter
+he had just opened.
+
+"I've been getting letters from the village cut-up or from some crank, I
+don't know which. Here's a sample."
+
+The envelope, addressed evidently in a disguised hand, contained one sheet
+of paper. Upon this was lettered roughly,
+
+                       "Play the Jack of Hearts."
+
+Flandrau looked up with a suggestion of eagerness in his eyes.
+
+"What do you reckon it means?" he asked.
+
+"Search me. Like as not it don't mean a thing. The others had just as much
+sense as that one."
+
+"Let's see the others."
+
+"I chucked them into the waste paper basket. One came by the morning mail
+yesterday and one by the afternoon. I'm no mind reader, and I've got no
+time to guess fool puzzles."
+
+Curly observed that the waste paper basket was full. Evidently it had not
+been emptied for two or three days.
+
+"Mind if I look for the others?" he asked.
+
+Bolt waved permission. "Go to it."
+
+The young man emptied the basket on the floor and went over its contents
+carefully. He found three communications from the unknown writer. Each of
+them was printed by hand on a sheet of cheap lined paper torn from a
+scratch pad. He smoothed them out and put them side by side on the table.
+This was what he read:
+
+                           HEARTS ARE TRUMPS
+                       WHEN IN DOUBT PLAY TRUMPS
+                           PLAY TRUMPS _NOW_
+
+There was only the one line to each message, and all of them were plainly
+in the same hand. He could make out only one thing, that someone was
+trying to give the sheriff information in a guarded way.
+
+He was still puzzling over the thing when a boy came with a special
+delivery letter for the sheriff. Bolt glanced at it and handed the note to
+Curly.
+
+"Another _billy doo_ from my anxious friend."
+
+This time the sender had been in too much of a hurry to print the words.
+They were written in a stiff hand by some uneducated person.
+
+                       The Jack of Trumps, to-day
+
+"Mind if I keep these?" Curly asked.
+
+"Take 'em along."
+
+Flandrau walked out to the grandstand at the fair grounds and sat down by
+himself there to think out what connection, if any, these singular
+warnings might have with the vanishing of Cullison or the robbery of the
+W. & S. He wasted three precious hours without any result. Dusk was
+falling before he returned.
+
+"Guess I'll take them to my little partner and give her a whack at the
+puzzle," he decided.
+
+Curly strolled back to town along El Molino street and down Main. He had
+just crossed the old Spanish plaza when his absorbed gaze fell on a sign
+that brought him up short. In front of a cigar store stretched across the
+sidewalk a painted picture of a jack of hearts. The same name was on the
+window.
+
+Fifty yards behind him was the Silver Dollar saloon, where Luck Cullison
+had last been seen on his way to the Del Mar one hundred and fifty yards
+in front of him. Somewhere within that distance of two hundred yards the
+owner of the Circle C had vanished from the sight of men. The evidence
+showed he had not reached the hotel, for a cattle buyer had been waiting
+there to talk with him. His testimony, as well as that of the hotel clerk,
+was positive.
+
+Could this little store, the Jack of Hearts, be the central point of the
+mystery? In his search for information Curly had already been in it, had
+bought a cigar, and had stopped to talk with Mrs. Wylie, the proprietor.
+She was a washed-out little woman who had once been pretty. Habitually she
+wore a depressed, hopeless look, the air of pathetic timidity that comes
+to some women who have found life too hard for them. It had been easy to
+alarm her. His first question had evidently set her heart a-flutter, but
+Flandrau had reassured her cheerfully. She had protested with absurd
+earnestness that she had seen nothing of Mr. Cullison. A single glance had
+been enough to dismiss her from any possible suspicion.
+
+Now Curly stepped in a second time. The frightened gaze of Mrs. Wylie
+fastened upon him instantly. He observed that her hand moved instinctively
+to her heart. Beyond question she was in fear. A flash of light clarified
+his mind. She was a conspirator, but an unwilling one. Possibly she might
+be the author of the anonymous warnings sent Bolt.
+
+The young _vaquero_ subscribed for a magazine and paid her the money.
+Tremblingly she filled out the receipt. He glanced at the slip and handed
+it back.
+
+"Just write below the signature 'of the Jack of Hearts,' so that I'll
+remember where I paid the money if the magazine doesn't come," he
+suggested.
+
+She did so, and Curly put the receipt in his pocket carelessly. He
+sauntered leisurely to the hotel, but as soon as he could get into a
+telephone booth his listlessness vanished. Maloney had returned to town
+and he telephoned him to get Mackenzie at once and watch the Jack of
+Hearts in front and rear. Before he left the booth Curly had compared the
+writing of Mrs. Wylie with that on the sheet that had come by special
+delivery. The loop of the J's, the shape of the K's, the formation of the
+capital H in both cases were alike. So too was the general lack of
+character common to both, the peculiar hesitating drag of the letters.
+Beyond question the same person had written both.
+
+Certainly Mrs. Wylie was not warning the sheriff against herself. Then
+against whom? He must know her antecedents, and at once. There was no time
+for him to mole them out himself. Calling up a local detective agency, he
+asked the manager to let him know within an hour or two all that could be
+found out about the woman without alarming her.
+
+"Wait a moment I think we have her on file. Hold the 'phone." The
+detective presently returned. "Yes. We can give you the facts. Will you
+come to the office for them?"
+
+Fifteen minutes later Curly knew that Mrs. Wylie was the divorced wife of
+Lute Blackwell. She had come to Saguache from the mountains several years
+before. Soon after there had been an inconspicuous notice in the
+_Sentinel_ to the effect that Cora Blackwell was suing for divorce from
+Lute Blackwell, then a prisoner in the penitentiary at Yuma. Another news
+item followed a week later stating that the divorce had been granted
+together with the right to use her maiden name. Unobtrusively she had
+started her little store. Her former husband, paroled from the
+penitentiary a few months before the rustling episode, had at intervals
+made of her shop a loafing place since that time.
+
+Curly returned to the Del Mar and sent his name up to Miss Cullison. With
+Kate and Bob there was also in the room Alec Flandrau.
+
+The girl came forward lightly to meet him with the lance-straight poise
+that always seemed to him to express a brave spirit ardent and unafraid.
+
+"Have you heard something?" she asked quickly.
+
+"Yes. Tell me, when did your father last meet Lute Blackwell so far as you
+know?"
+
+"I don't know. Not for years, I think. Why?"
+
+The owner of the Map of Texas answered the question of his nephew. "He met
+him the other day. Let's see. It was right after the big poker game. We
+met him downstairs here. Luck had to straighten out some notions he had
+got."
+
+"How?"
+
+Flandrau, Senior, told the story of what had occurred in the hotel lobby.
+
+"And you say he swore to get even?"
+
+"That's what he said. And he looked like he meant it too."
+
+"What is it? What have you found out?" Kate implored.
+
+The young man told about the letters and Mrs. Wylie.
+
+"We've got to get a move on us," he concluded. "For if Lute Blackwell did
+this thing to your father it's mighty serious for him."
+
+Kate was white to the lips, but in no danger of breaking down. "Yes, if
+this man is in it he would not stop at less than murder. But I don't
+believe it. I know Father is alive. Cass Fendrick is the man we want. I'm
+sure of it."
+
+Curly had before seen women hard as nails, gaunt strong mountaineers as
+tough as hickory withes. But he had never before seen that quality
+dwelling in a slim girlish figure of long soft curves, never seen it in a
+face of dewy freshness that could melt to the tenderest pity. She was like
+flint, and yet she could give herself with a passionate tenderness to
+those she loved. He had seen animals guard their young with that same
+alert eager abandon. His conviction was that she would gladly die for her
+father if it were necessary. As he looked at her with hard unchanging
+eyes, his blood quickened to a fierce joy in her it had known for no other
+woman.
+
+"First thing is to search the Jack of Hearts and see what's there. Are you
+with me, Uncle Alec?"
+
+"I sure am, Curly;" and he reached for his hat.
+
+Bob too was on his feet. "I'm going. You needn't any of you say I ain't,
+for I am."
+
+Curly nodded. "If you'll do as you're told, Bob."
+
+"I will. Cross my heart."
+
+"May I come too?" Kate pleaded.
+
+She was a strongwilled impulsive young woman, and her deference to Curly
+flattered him; but he shook his head none the less.
+
+"No. You may wait in the parlor downstairs and I'll send Bob to you with
+any news. There's just a chance this may be a man's job and we want to go
+to it unhampered." He turned at the door with his warm smile. "By the way,
+I've got some news I forgot. I know where your father got the money to pay
+his poker debts. Mr. Jordan of the Cattlemen's National made him a
+personal loan. He figured it would not hurt the bank because the three men
+Luck paid it to would deposit it with the bank again."
+
+"By George, that's what we did, too, every last one of us," his uncle
+admitted.
+
+"Every little helps," Kate said; and her little double nod thanked Curly.
+
+The young man stopped a moment after the others had gone. "I'm not going
+to let Bob get into danger," he promised.
+
+"I knew you wouldn't," was her confident answer.
+
+At the corner of the plaza Curly gave Bob instructions.
+
+"You stay here and keep an eye on everyone that passes. Don't try to stop
+anybody. Just size them up."
+
+"Ain't I to go with you? I got a gun."
+
+"You're to do as I say. What kind of a soldier would you make if you can't
+obey orders? I'm running this. If you don't like it trot along home."
+
+"Oh, I'll stay," agreed the crestfallen youth.
+
+Maloney met them in front of the Jack of Hearts.
+
+"Dick, you go with me inside. Uncle Alec, will you keep guard outside?"
+
+"No, bub, I won't. I knew Luck before you were walking bowlegged," the old
+cattleman answered brusquely.
+
+Curly grinned. "All right. Don't blame me if you get shot up."
+
+Mrs. Wylie's startled eyes told tales when she saw the three men. Her face
+was ashen.
+
+"I'm here to play trumps, Mrs. Wylie. What secret has the Jack of Hearts
+got hidden from us?" young Flandrau demanded, his hard eyes fastened to
+her timorous ones.
+
+"I--I--I don't know what you mean."
+
+"No use. We're here for business. Dick, you stay with her. Don't let her
+leave or shout a warning."
+
+He passed into the back room, which was a kind of combination living room,
+kitchen and bedroom. A door led from the rear into a back yard littered
+with empty packing cases, garbage cans and waste paper. After taking a
+look around the yard he locked the back door noiselessly. There was no
+other apparent exit from the kitchen-bedroom except the one by which he
+and his uncle had entered from the shop. But he knew the place must have a
+cellar, and his inspection of the yard had showed no entrance there. He
+drew back the Navajo rug that covered the floor and found one of the
+old-fashioned trap doors some cheap houses have. Into this was fitted an
+iron ring with which to lift it.
+
+From the darkness below came no sound, but Curly's imagination conceived
+the place as full of shining eyes glaring up at him. Any bad men down
+there already had the drop on them. Therefore neither Curly nor his uncle
+made the mistake of drawing a weapon.
+
+"I'm coming down, boys," young Flandrau announced in a quiet confident
+voice. "The place is surrounded by our friends and it won't do you a whole
+lot of good to shoot me up. I'd advise you not to be too impulsive"
+
+He descended the steps, his face like a stone wall for all the emotion it
+recorded. At his heels came the older man. Curly struck a match, found an
+electric bulb above his head, and turned the button. Instantly the
+darkness was driven from the cellar.
+
+The two Flandraus were quite alone in the room. For furniture there was a
+table, a cot which had been slept in and not made up, and a couple of
+rough chairs. The place had no windows, no means of ventilation except
+through the trap door. Yet there were evidences to show that it had
+recently been inhabited. Half smoked cigars littered the floor. A pack of
+cards lay in disorder on the table. The _Sentinel_ with date line of that
+day lay tossed in a corner.
+
+The room told Curly this at least: There had been a prisoner here with a
+guard or guards. Judging by the newspaper they had been here within a few
+hours. The time of sending the special delivery letter made this the more
+probable. He had missed the men he wanted by a very little time. If he had
+had the gumption to understand the hints given by the letters Cullison
+might now be eating supper with his family at the hotel.
+
+"Make anything out of it?" the older Flandrau asked.
+
+"He's been here, but they've taken him away. Will you cover the
+telephoning? Have all the ranches notified that Luck is being taken into
+the hills so they can picket the trails."
+
+"How do you know he is being taken there?"
+
+"I don't know. I guess. Blackwell is in it. He knows every nook of the
+hills. The party left here not two hours since, looks like."
+
+Curly put the newspaper in his pocket and led the Way back to the store.
+
+"The birds have flown, Dick, Made their getaway through the alley late
+this afternoon, probably just after it got dark." He turned to the woman.
+"Mrs. Wylie, murder is going to be done, I shouldn't wonder. And you're
+liable to be held guilty of it unless you tell us all you know."
+
+She began to weep, helplessly, but with a sort of stubbornness too.
+Frightened she certainly was, but some greater fear held her silent as to
+the secret. "I don't know anything about it," she repeated over and over.
+
+"Won't do. You've got to speak. A man's life hangs on it."
+
+But his resolution could not break hers, incomparably stronger than she
+though he was. Her conscience had driven her to send veiled warnings to
+the sheriff. But for very fear of her life she dared not commit herself
+openly.
+
+Maloney had an inspiration. He spoke in a low voice to Curly. "Let's take
+her to the hotel. Miss Kate will know how to get it out of her better than
+we can."
+
+Mrs. Wylie went with them quietly enough. She was shaken with fears but
+still resolute not to speak. They might send her to prison. She would tell
+them nothing--nothing at all. For someone who had made terror the habit of
+her life had put the fear of death into her soul.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A MESSAGE IN CIPHER
+
+
+While Kate listened to what Curly had to tell her the dark eyes of the
+girl were fastened upon the trembling little woman standing near the
+door.
+
+"Do you mean that she is going to let my father be killed rather than tell
+what she knows?" Her voice was sharply incredulous, touched with a horror
+scarcely realized.
+
+"So she says."
+
+Mrs. Wylie wrung her hands in agitation. Her lined face was a mirror of
+distress.
+
+"But that's impossible. She must tell. What has Father ever done to hurt
+her?"
+
+"I--I don't know anything about it," the harassed woman iterated.
+
+"What's the use of saying that when we know you do? And you'll not get out
+of it by sobbing. You've _got_ to talk."
+
+Kate had not moved. None the less her force, the upblaze of feminine
+energy in her, crowded the little storekeeper to the wall. "You've got to
+tell--you've just got to," she insisted.
+
+The little woman shrank before the energy of a passion so vital. No
+strength was in her to fight. But she could and did offer the passive
+resistance of obstinate silence.
+
+Curly had drawn from his pocket the newspaper found in the cellar. His
+eyes had searched for the date line to use as cumulative evidence, but
+they had remained fastened to one story. Now he spoke imperatively.
+
+"Come here, Miss Kate."
+
+She was beside him in an instant. "What is it?"
+
+"I'm not sure yet, but---- Look here. I believe this is a message to us."
+
+"A message?"
+
+"From your father perhaps."
+
+"How could it be?"
+
+"I found the paper in the cellar where he was. See how some of these words
+are scored. Done with a finger nail, looks like."
+
+"But how could he know we would see the paper, and if we did see it would
+understand?"
+
+"He couldn't. It would be one chance in a million, but all his life he's
+been taking chances. This couldn't do any harm."
+
+Her dark head bent beside his fair one with the crisp sun-reddened curls.
+
+"I don't see any message. Where is it?"
+
+"I don't see it myself--not much of it. Gimme time."
+
+This was the paragraph upon which his gaze had fastened, and the words and
+letters were scored sharply as shown below, though in the case of single
+letters the mark ran through them instead of underneath, evidently that no
+mistake might be made as to which was meant.
+
+  J. P. Kelley of the ranger force reports
+
+  over the telephone that by unexpected good
+
+  luck he has succeeded in taking prisoner
+  ----                            --------
+  the notorious Jack Foster of Hermosilla
+                ----        -- --       -
+  and the Rincons notoriety and is now
+          -         -            - ---
+  bringing him to Saguache where he will be
+                  --------
+  locked up pending a disposition of his case.
+  -------------------------------------------
+  Kelley succeeded in surprising him while
+         ---------------------------
+  he was eating dinner at a Mexican road-house
+
+  just this side of the border.
+
+"Do you make it out?" Maloney asked, looking over their shoulders.
+
+Curly took a pencil and an envelope from his pocket. On the latter he
+jotted down some words and handed the paper to his friend. This was what
+Maloney read:
+
+  ........................................
+  ..........................................
+  luck............................prisoner
+  the notorious Jack Foster of Hermosilla
+  ..............Jack........of.He.......a
+  ........R.........t............s.now
+  ................Saguache.................
+  locked up pending a disposition of his case.
+  .......succeeded in surprising him......
+  ............................................
+  .............................
+
+"Read that right ahead."
+
+Dick did not quite get the idea, but Kate, tense with excitement, took the
+envelope and read aloud.
+
+"Luck----prisoner----Jack of Hearts----now Saguache----locked up pending a
+disposition of his case----succeeded in surprising him." She looked up
+with shining eyes. "He tells us everything but the names of the people who
+did it. Perhaps somewhere else in the paper he may tell that too."
+
+But though they went over it word for word they found no more. Either he
+had been interrupted, or he had been afraid that his casual thumb nail
+pressures might arouse the suspicion of his guards if persisted in too
+long.
+
+"He's alive somewhere. We'll save him now." Kate cried it softly, all warm
+with the joy of it.
+
+"Seems to let our friend Fendrick out," Maloney mused.
+
+"Lets him out of kidnapping Uncle Luck but maybe not out of the robbery,"
+Bob amended.
+
+"Doesn't let him out of either. Somebody was in this with Blackwell. If it
+wasn't Cass Fendrick then who was it?" Kate wanted to know.
+
+"Might have been Soapy Stone," Dick guessed.
+
+"Might have been, but now Sam has gone back into the hills to join Soapy;
+the gang would have to keep it from Sam. He wouldn't stand for it."
+
+"No, not for a minute," Kate said decisively.
+
+Curly spoke to her in a low voice. "You have a talk with Mrs. Wylie alone.
+We'll pull our freights. She'll tell you what she knows." He smiled in his
+gentle winning way. "She's sure had a tough time of it if ever a woman
+had. I reckon a little kindness is what she needs. Let her see we're her
+friends and will stand by her, that we won't let her come to harm because
+she talks. Show her we know everything anyhow but want her to corroborate
+details."
+
+It was an hour before Kate joined them, and her eyes, though they were
+very bright, told tales, of tears that had been shed.
+
+"That poor woman! She has told me everything. Father has been down in that
+cellar for days under a guard. They took him away to-night. She doesn't
+know where. It was she sent the warnings to Sheriff Bolt. She wanted him
+to raid the place, but she dared not go to him."
+
+"Because of Blackwell?"
+
+"Yes. He came straight to her as soon as he was freed from the
+penitentiary. He had her completely terrorized. It seems she has been
+afraid to draw a deep breath ever since he returned. Even while he was in
+the hills she was always looking for him to come. The man used to keep her
+in a hell and he began bullying her again. So she gave him money, and he
+came for more--and more."
+
+Curly nodded. He said nothing, but his strong jaw clamped.
+
+"He was there that day," the girl continued. "She plucked up courage to
+refuse him what little she had left because she needed it for the rent. He
+got hold of her arm and twisted it. Father heard her cry and came in.
+Blackwell was behind the door as it opened. He struck with a loaded cane
+and Father fell unconscious. He raised it to strike again, but she clung
+to his arm and called for help. Before he could shake her off another man
+came in. He wrenched the club away."
+
+"Fendrick?" breathed Curly.
+
+"She doesn't know. But the first thing he did was to lock the outer door
+and take the key. They carried Father down into the cellar. Before he came
+to himself his hands were tied behind his back."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"They watched him day and night. Fendrick himself did not go near the
+place--if it was Fendrick. Blackwell swore to kill Mrs. Wylie if she told.
+They held him there till to-night. She thinks they were trying to get
+Father to sign some paper."
+
+"The relinquishment of course. That means the other man was Fendrick."
+
+Kate nodded. "Yes."
+
+Curly rose. The muscles stood out in his jaw; hard as steel ropes.
+
+"We'll rake the Rincons with a fine tooth comb. Don't you worry. I've
+already wired for Bucky O'Connor to come and help. We'll get your Father
+out of the hands of those hell hounds. Won't we, Dick?"
+
+The girl's eyes admired him, a lean hard-bitten Westerner with eyes as
+unblinking as an Arizona sun and with muscles like wire springs. His face
+still held its boyishness, but it had lost forever the irresponsibility of
+a few months before. She saw in him an iron will, shrewdness, courage and
+resource. All of these his friend Maloney also had. But Curly was the
+prodigal son, the sinner who had repented. His engaging recklessness lent
+him a charm from which she could not escape. Out of ten thousand men there
+were none whose voice drummed on her heart strings as did that of this
+youth.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+"THE FRIENDS OF L. C. SERVE NOTICE"
+
+
+Two men sat in a log cabin on opposite sides of a cheap table. One of them
+was immersed in a newspaper. His body was relaxed, his mind apparently at
+ease. The other watched him malevolently. His fingers caressed the handle
+of a revolver that protruded from the holster at his side. He would have
+liked nothing better than to have drawn it and sent a bullet crashing into
+the unperturbed brain of his prisoner.
+
+There were reasons of policy why it were better to curb this fascinating
+desire, but sometimes the impulse to kill surged up almost uncontrollably.
+On these occasions Luck Cullison was usually "deviling" him, the only
+diversion that had been open to the ranchman for some days past. Because
+of its danger--for he could never be quite sure that Blackwell's lust for
+swift vengeance would not over-power discretion--this pastime made a
+peculiar appeal to the audacious temper of the owner of the Circle C.
+
+From time to time as Luck read he commented genially on the news.
+
+"I see Tucson is going to get the El Paso & Southwestern extension after
+all. I'll bet the boys in that burg will be right tickled to hear it. They
+sure have worked steady for it."
+
+Blackwell merely scowled. He never relaxed to the give and take of casual
+talk with his captive. Given his way, Cullison would not be here to read
+the _Sentinel_. But the brains of the conspiracy had ruled otherwise and
+had insisted too upon decent treatment. With one ankle securely tied to a
+leg of the table there was no danger in freeing the hands of the
+cattleman, but his hosts saw that never for an instant were hands and feet
+at liberty together. For this man was not the one with whom to take
+chances.
+
+"Rudd has been convicted of forgery and taken to Yuma. Seems to me you
+used to live there, didn't you?" asked the cattleman with cool insolence,
+looking up from his paper to smile across at the furious convict.
+
+Blackwell was livid. The man who had sent him to the territorial prison at
+Yuma dared to sit there bound and unarmed and taunt him with it.
+
+"Take care," he advised hoarsely.
+
+Cullison laughed and went back to the paper.
+
+"'Lieutenant O'Connor of the Arizona Rangers left town to-day for a short
+trip into the hills where he expects to spend a few days hunting.' Hunting
+what, do you reckon? Or hunting who, I should say. Ever meet Bucky
+O'Connor, Blackwell? No, I reckon not. He's since your time. A crackerjack
+too! Wonder if Bucky ain't after some friends of mine."
+
+"Shut up," growled the other.
+
+"Sure you'll be shut up--when Bucky lands you," retorted Luck cheerfully.
+Then, with a sudden whoop: "Hello, here's a personal to your address.
+Fine! They're getting ready to round you up, my friend. Listen. 'The
+friends of L. C. serve notice that what occurred at the Jack of Hearts is
+known. Any violence hereafter done to him will be paid for to the limit.
+No guilty man will escape.' So the boys are getting busy. I figured they
+would be. Looks like your chance of knocking me on the head has gone down
+Salt River. I tell you nowadays a man has to grab an opportunity by the
+tail when it's there."
+
+The former convict leaned forward angrily. "Lemme see that paper."
+
+His guest handed it over, an index finger pointing out the item. "Large as
+life, Blackwell. No, sir. You ce'tainly didn't ride herd proper on that
+opportunity."
+
+"Don't be too sure it's gone, Mr. Sheriff."
+
+The man's face was twisted to an ugly sneer back of which lurked cruel
+menace. The gray eyes of Cullison did not waver a hair's breadth.
+
+"It's gone. I'm as safe as if I were at the Circle C."
+
+"Don't you think it."
+
+"They've got you dead to rights. Read that personal again. Learn it by
+heart. 'The friends of L. C. give warning.' You better believe they're
+rounding up your outfit. They know I'm alive. They know all about the Jack
+of Hearts. Pretty soon they'll know where you've got me hidden."
+
+"You'd better pray they won't. For if they find the nest it will be
+empty."
+
+"Yes?" Luck spoke with ironical carelessness, but he shot an alert keen
+glance at the other.
+
+"That's what I said. Want to know where you will be?" the other
+triumphed.
+
+"I see you want to tell me. Unload your mind."
+
+Triumph overrode discretion. "Look out of that window behind you."
+
+Luck turned. The cabin was built on a ledge far up on the mountain side.
+From the back wall sloped for a hundred feet an almost perpendicular slide
+of rock.
+
+"There's a prospect hole down there," Blackwell explained savagely. "You'd
+go down the Devil's Slide--what's left of you, I mean--deep into that
+prospect hole. The timberings are rotted and the whole top of the working
+ready to cave in. When your body hits it there will be an avalanche--with
+Mr. Former-sheriff Cullison at the bottom of it. You'll be buried without
+any funeral expenses, and I reckon your friends will never know where to
+put the headstone."
+
+The thing was devilishly simple and feasible. Luck, still looking out of
+the window, felt the blood run cold down his spine, for he knew this
+fellow would never stick at murder if he felt it would be safe. No doubt
+he was being well paid, and though in this workaday world revenge has gone
+out of fashion there was no denying that this ruffian would enjoy evening
+the score. But his confederate was of another stripe, a human being with
+normal passions and instincts. The cattleman wondered how he could
+reconcile it to his conscience to go into so vile a plot with a villain
+like the convict.
+
+"So you see I'm right; you'd better pray your friends _won't_ find you.
+They can't reach here without being heard. If they get to hunting these
+hills you sure want to hope they'll stay cold, for just as soon as they
+get warm it will be the signal for you to shoot the chutes."
+
+Luck met his triumphant savagery with an impassive face. "Interesting if
+true. And where will you be when my friends arrive. I reckon it won't be a
+pleasant meeting for Mr. Blackwell."
+
+"I'll be headed for Mexico. I tell you because you ain't liable to go
+around spreading the news. There's a horse saddled in the dip back of the
+hill crest. Get it?"
+
+"Fine," Cullison came back. "And you'll ride right into some of Bucky
+O'Connor's rangers. He's got the border patroled. You'd never make it."
+
+"Don't worry. I'd slip through. I'm no tenderfoot."
+
+"What if you did? Bucky would drag you back by the scruff of the neck in
+two weeks. Remember Chavez."
+
+He referred to a murderer whom the lieutenant of rangers had captured and
+brought back to be hanged later.
+
+"Chavez was a fool."
+
+"Was he? You don't get the point. The old days are gone. Law is in the
+saddle. Murder is no longer a pleasant pastime." And Cullison stretched
+his arms and yawned.
+
+From far below there came through the open window the faint click of a
+horse's hoofs ringing against the stones in the dry bed of a river wash.
+Swiftly Blackwell moved to the door, taking down a rifle from its rack as
+he did so. Cullison rose noiselessly in his chair. If it came to the worst
+he meant to shout aloud his presence and close with this fellow. Hampered
+as he was by the table, the man would get him without question. But if he
+could only sink his fingers into that hairy throat while there was still
+life in him he could promise that the Mexican trip would never take
+place.
+
+Blackwell, from his place by the door, could keep an eye both on his
+prisoner and on a point of the trail far below where horsemen must pass to
+reach the cabin.
+
+"Sit down," he ordered.
+
+Cullison's eyes were like finely-tempered steel. "I'd rather stand."
+
+"By God, if you move from there----" The man did not finish his sentence,
+but the rifle was already half lifted. More words would have been
+superfluous.
+
+A rider came into sight and entered the mouth of the canyon. He was waving
+a white handkerchief. The man in the doorway answered the signal.
+
+"Not your friends this time, Mr. Sheriff," Blackwell jeered.
+
+"I get a stay of execution, do I?" The cool drawling voice of the
+cattleman showed nothing of the tense feeling within.
+
+He resumed his seat and the reading of the newspaper. Presently, to the
+man that came over the threshold he spoke with a casual nod.
+
+"Morning, Cass."
+
+Fendrick mumbled a surly answer. The manner of ironical comradeship his
+captive chose to employ was more than an annoyance. To serve his ends it
+was necessary to put the fear of death into this man's heart, which was a
+thing he had found impossible to do. His foe would deride him, joke with
+him, discuss politics with him, play cards with him, do anything but fear
+him. In the meantime the logic of circumstances was driving the sheepman
+into a corner. He had on impulse made the owner of the Circle C his
+prisoner. Seeing him lie there unconscious on the floor of the Jack of
+Hearts, it had come to him in a flash that he might hold him and force a
+relinquishment of the Del Oro claim. His disappearance would explain
+itself if the rumor spread that he was the W. & S. express robber. Cass
+had done it to save himself from the ruin of his business, but already he
+had regretted it fifty times. Threats could not move Luck in the least. He
+was as hard as iron.
+
+So the sheepman found himself between the upper and the nether millstones.
+He could not drive his prisoner to terms and he dared not release him. For
+if Cullison went away unpledged he would surely send him to the
+penitentiary. Nor could he hold him a prisoner indefinitely. He had seen
+the "personal" warning in both the morning and the afternoon papers. He
+guessed that the presence of the ranger Bucky O'Connor in Saguache was not
+a chance. The law was closing in on him. Somehow Cullison must be made to
+come through with a relinquishment and a pledge not to prosecute. The only
+other way out would be to let Blackwell wreak his hate on the former
+sheriff. From this he shrank with every instinct. Fendrick was a hard man.
+He would have fought it out to a finish if necessary. But murder was a
+thing he could not do.
+
+He had never discussed the matter with Blackwell. The latter had told him
+of this retreat in the mountains and they had brought their prisoner here.
+But the existence of the prospect hole at the foot of the Devil's Slide
+was unknown to him. From the convict's revenge he had hitherto saved Luck.
+Blackwell was his tool rather than his confederate, but he was uneasily
+aware that if the man yielded to the elemental desire to kill his enemy
+the law, would hold him, Cass Fendrick, guilty of the crime.
+
+"Price of sheep good this week?" Cullison asked amiably.
+
+"I didn't come here to discuss the price of sheep with you." Fendrick
+spoke harshly. A dull anger against the scheme of things burned in him.
+For somehow he had reached an _impasse_ from which there was neither
+advance nor retreat.
+
+"No. Well, you're right there. What I don't know about sheep would fill
+several government reports. Of course I've got ideas. One of them is----"
+
+"I don't care anything about your ideas. Are you going to sign this
+relinquishment?"
+
+Luck's face showed a placid surprise. "Why no, Cass. Thought I mentioned
+that before."
+
+"You'd better." The sheepman's harassed face looked ugly enough for
+anything.
+
+"Can't figure it out that way."
+
+"You've got to sign it. By God, you've no option."
+
+"No?" Still with pleasant incredulity.
+
+"Think I'm going to let you get away from here now. You'll sign and you'll
+promise to tell nothing you know against us."
+
+"No, I don't reckon I will."
+
+Cullison was looking straight at him with his fearless level gaze.
+Fendrick realized with a sinking heart that he could not drive him that
+way to surrender. He knew that in the other man's place he would have
+given way, that his enemy was gamer than he was.
+
+He threw up his hand in a sullen gesture that disclaimed responsibility.
+"All right. It's on your own head. I've done all I can for you."
+
+"What's on my head?"
+
+"Your life. Damn you, don't you see you're driving me too far?"
+
+"How far?"
+
+"I'm not going to let you get away to send us to prison. What do you
+expect?"
+
+Luck's frosty eyes did not release the other for a moment. "How are you
+going to prevent it, Cass?"
+
+"I'll find a way."
+
+"Blackwell's way--the Devil's Slide?"
+
+The puzzled look of the sheepman told Cullison that Blackwell's plan of
+exit for him had not been submitted to the other.
+
+"Your friend from Yuma has been explaining how he has arranged for me to
+cross the divide," he went on. "I'm to be plugged full of lead, shot down
+that rock, and landed in a prospect hole at the bottom."
+
+"First I've heard of it." Fendrick wheeled upon his accomplice with angry
+eyes. He was in general a dominant man, and not one who would stand much
+initiative from his assistants.
+
+"He's always deviling me," complained the convict surlily. Then, with a
+flash of anger: "But I stand pat. He'll get his before I take chances of
+getting caught. I'm nobody's fool."
+
+Cass snapped him up. "You'll do as I say. You'll not lift a finger against
+him unless he tries to escape."
+
+"Have you seen the _Sentinel_? I tell you his friends know everything.
+Someone's peached. They're hot on our trail. Bucky O'Connor is in the
+hills. Think I'm going to be caught like a rat in a trap?"
+
+"We'll talk of that later. Now you go look after my horse while I keep
+guard here."
+
+Blackwell went, protesting that he was no "nigger" to be ordered about on
+errands. As soon, as he was out of hearing Fendrick turned his thin
+lip-smile on the prisoner.
+
+"It's up to you, Cullison. I saved your life once. I'm protecting you now.
+But if your friends show up he'll do as he says. I won't be here to stop
+him. Sign up and don't be a fool."
+
+Luck's answer came easily and lightly. "My friend, we've already discussed
+that point."
+
+"You won't change your mind?"
+
+"Your arguments don't justify it, Cass."
+
+The sheepman looked at him with a sinister significance. "Good enough.
+I'll bring you one that will justify it _muy pronto_."
+
+"It will have to be a mighty powerful one. Sorry I can't oblige you and
+your friend, the convict."
+
+"It'll be powerful enough." Fendrick went to the door and called
+Blackwell. "Bring back that horse. I'm going down to the valley."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+CASS FENDRICK MAKES A CALL
+
+
+Kate was in her rose garden superintending the stable boy as he loosened
+the dirt around the roots of some of the bushes. She had returned to the
+Circle C for a day or two to give some directions in the absence of her
+father. Buck and the other riders came to her for orders and took them
+without contempt. She knew the cattle business, and they knew she knew it.
+To a man they were proud of her, of her spirit, her energy, and her good
+looks.
+
+This rose garden was one evidence of her enterprise. No ranch in the
+county could show such a riot of bloom as the Circle C. The American
+Beauty, the Duchess, the La France bowed gracefully to neighbors of a
+dozen other choice varieties. Kate had brought this glimpse of Eden into
+the desert. She knew her catalogues by heart and she had the loving
+instinct that teaches all gardeners much about growing things.
+
+The rider who cantered up to the fence, seeing her in her well-hung
+corduroy skirt, her close-fitting blouse, and the broad-rimmed straw hat
+that shielded her dark head from the sun, appreciated the fitness of her
+surroundings. She too was a flower of the desert, delicately fashioned,
+yet vital with the bloom of health.
+
+At the clatter of hoofs she looked up from the bush she was trimming and
+at once rose to her feet. With the change in position she showed slim and
+tall, straight as a young poplar. Beneath their long lashes her eyes grew
+dark and hard. For the man who had drawn to a halt was Cass Fendrick.
+
+From the pocket of his shirt he drew a crumpled piece of stained linen.
+
+"I've brought back your handkerchief, Miss Cullison."
+
+"What have you done with my father?"
+
+He nodded toward the Mexican boy and Kate dismissed the lad. When he had
+gone she asked her question again in exactly the same words.
+
+"If we're going to discuss your father you had better get your quirt
+again," the sheepman suggested, touching a scar on his face.
+
+A flush swept over her cheeks, but she held her voice quiet and even.
+"Where is Father? What have you done with him?"
+
+He swung from the horse and threw the rein to the ground. Then, sauntering
+to the gate, he let himself in.
+
+"You've surely got a nice posy garden here. Didn't know there was one like
+it in all sunbaked Arizona."
+
+She stood rigid. Her unfaltering eyes, sloe-black in the pale face, never
+lifted from him.
+
+"There's only one thing you can talk to me about Where have you hidden my
+father?"
+
+"I've heard folks say he did himself all the hiding that was done."
+
+"You know that isn't true. That convict and you have hidden him somewhere.
+We have evidence enough to convict you both."
+
+"Imagination, most of it, I expect." He was inspecting the roses and
+inhaling their bloom.
+
+"Fact enough to send you to the penitentiary."
+
+"I ought to be scared. This is a La France, ain't it?"
+
+"I want you to tell me what you have done with my father."
+
+He laughed a little and looked at her with eyes that narrowed like those
+of a cat basking in the sun. He had something the look of the larger
+members of the cat family--the soft long tread, the compact rippling
+muscles of a tame panther, and with these the threat that always lies
+behind its sleepy wariness.
+
+"You're a young lady of one idea. No use arguing with you, I reckon."
+
+"Not the least use. I've talked with Mrs. Wylie."
+
+He raised his eyebrows. "Do I know the lady?"
+
+"She will know you. That is more to the point."
+
+"Did she say she knew me?" he purred.
+
+"She will say it in court--if it ever comes to that."
+
+"Just what will she say, if you please."
+
+Kate told him in four sentences with a stinging directness that was the
+outstanding note of her, that and a fine self-forgetful courage.
+
+"Is that all? Comes to this then, that she says I heard her scream, ran
+in, and saved your father's life. Is that a penitentiary offense? I don't
+say it oughtn't to be, but is it?"
+
+"You helped the villain take his body into the cellar. You plotted with
+him to hold Father a prisoner there."
+
+"Says that, does she--that she overheard us plotting?"
+
+"Of course she did not overhear what you said. You took good care of that.
+But she knew you were conspiring."
+
+"Just naturally knew it without overhearing," he derided. "And of course
+if I was in a plot I must have been Johnny-on-the-spot a good deal of the
+time. Hung round there a-plenty, I expect?"
+
+He had touched on the weak spot of Mrs. Wylie's testimony. The man who had
+saved Cullison's life, after a long talk with Blackwell, had gone out of
+the Jack of Hearts and had not returned so far as she knew. For her former
+husband had sent her on an errand just before the prisoner was taken away
+and she did not know who had helped him.
+
+Kate was silent.
+
+"How would this do for an explanation?" he suggested lazily. "We'll say
+just for the sake of argument that Mrs. Wylie's story is true, that I did
+save your father's life. We'll put it that I did help carry him downstairs
+where it was cooler and that I did have a long talk with the fellow
+Blackwell. What would I be talking to him about, if I wasn't reading the
+riot act to him? Ain't it likely too that he would be sorry for what he
+did while he was angry at your father for butting in as he was having
+trouble with his wife? And after he had said he was sorry why shouldn't I
+hit the road out of there? There's no love lost between me and Luck
+Cullison. I wasn't under any obligations to wrap him up in cotton and
+bring him back this side up with care to his anxious friends. If he chose
+later to take a hike out of town on p.d.q. hurry up business I ain't to
+blame. And I reckon you'll find a jury will agree with me."
+
+She had to admit to herself that he made out a plausible case. Not that
+she believed it for a moment. But very likely a jury would. As for his
+subsequent silence that could be explained by his desire not to mix
+himself in the affairs of one with whom he was upon unfriendly terms. The
+irrefutable fact that he had saved the life of Cullison would go a long
+way as presumptive proof of his innocence.
+
+"I see you are wearing your gray hat again? What have you done with the
+brown one?"
+
+She had flashed the question at him so unexpectedly that he was startled,
+but the wary mask fell again over the sardonic face.
+
+"You take a right friendly interest in my hats, seems to me."
+
+"I know this much. Father took your hat by mistake from the club. You
+bought a brown one half an hour later. You used Father's to manufacture
+evidence against him. If it isn't true that he is your prisoner how does
+it come that you have your gray hat again? You must have taken it from
+him."
+
+He laughed uneasily. She had guessed the exact truth.
+
+"In Arizona there are about forty thousand gray hats like this. Do you
+figure you can identify this one, Miss Cullison? And suppose your fairy
+tale of the Jack of Hearts is true, couldn't I have swapped hats again
+while he lay there unconscious?"
+
+She brushed his explanation aside with a woman's superb indifference to
+logic.
+
+"You can talk of course. I don't care. It is all lies--lies. You have
+kidnapped Father and are holding him somewhere. Don't you dare to hurt
+him. If you should--Oh, if you should--you will wish you had never been
+born." The fierceness of her passion beat upon him like sudden summer
+hail.
+
+He laughed slowly, well pleased. A lazy smoldering admiration shone in his
+half shuttered eyes.
+
+"So you're going to take it out of me, are you?"
+
+A creature of moods, there came over her now a swift change. Every feature
+of her, the tense pose, the manner of defiant courage, softened
+indescribably. She was no longer an enemy bent on his destruction but a
+girl pleading for the father she loved.
+
+"Why do you do it? You are a man. You want to fight fair. Tell me he is
+well. Tell me you will set him free."
+
+He forgot for the moment that he was a man with the toils of the law
+closing upon him, forgot that his success and even his liberty were at
+stake. He saw only a girl with the hunger of love in her wistful eyes, and
+knew that it lay in his power to bring back the laughter and the light
+into them.
+
+"Suppose I can't fight fair any longer. Suppose I've let myself get
+trapped and it isn't up to me but to somebody else."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Up to your father, say."
+
+"My father?"
+
+"Yes. How could I turn him loose when the first thing he did would be to
+swear out a warrant for my arrest?"
+
+"But he wouldn't--not if you freed him."
+
+He laughed harshly. "I thought you knew him. He's hard as nails."
+
+She recognized the justice of this appraisal. "But he is generous too. He
+stands by his friends."
+
+"I'm not his friend, not so you could notice it." He laughed again,
+bitterly. "Not that it matters. Of course I was just putting a case.
+Nothing to it really."
+
+He was hedging because he thought he had gone too far, but she appeared
+not to notice it. Her eyes had the faraway look of one who communes with
+herself.
+
+"If I could only see him and have a talk with him."
+
+"What good would that do?" he pretended to scoff.
+
+But he watched her closely nevertheless.
+
+"I think I could get him to do as I ask. He nearly always does." Her gaze
+went swiftly back to him. "Let me talk with him. There's a reason why he
+ought to be free now, one that would appeal to him."
+
+This was what he had come for, but now that she had met him half way he
+hesitated. If she should not succeed he would be worse off than before. He
+could neither hold her a prisoner nor free her to lead the pack of the law
+to his hiding place. On the other hand if Cullison thought they intended
+to keep her prisoner he would have to compromise. He dared not leave her
+in the hands of Lute Blackwell. Fendrick decided to take a chance. At the
+worst he could turn them both free and leave for Sonora.
+
+"All right. I'll take you to him. But you'll have to do as I say."
+
+"Yes," she agreed.
+
+"I'm taking you to back my play. I tell you straight that Blackwell would
+like nothing better than to put a bullet through your father. But I've got
+a hold on the fellow that ties him. He's got to do as I say. But if I'm
+not there and it comes to a showdown--if Bucky O'Connor for instance
+happens to stumble in--then it's all off with Luck Cullison. Blackwell
+won't hesitate a second. He'll kill your father and make a bolt for it.
+That's one reason why I'm taking you. I want to pile up witnesses against
+the fellow so as to make him go slow. But that's not my main object.
+You've got to persuade Luck to come through with an agreement to let go of
+that Del Oro homestead and to promise not to prosecute us. He won't do it
+to save his own life. He's got to think you come there as my prisoner.
+See? He's got to wrestle with the notion that you're in the power of the
+damnedest villain that ever went unhung. I mean Blackwell. Let him chew on
+that proposition a while and see what he makes of it."
+
+She nodded, white to the lips. "Let us go at once, please. I don't want to
+leave Father alone with that man." She called across to the corral.
+"Manuel, saddle the pinto for me. Hurry!"
+
+They rode together through the wind-swept sunlit land. From time to time
+his lazy glance embraced her, a supple graceful creature at perfect ease
+in the saddle. What was it about her that drew the eye so irresistibly?
+Prettier girls he had often seen. Her features were irregular, mouth and
+nose too large, face a little thin. Her contour lacked the softness, the
+allure that in some women was an unconscious invitation to cuddle. Tough
+as whipcord she might be, but in her there flowed a life vital and strong;
+dwelt a spirit brave and unconquerable. She seemed to him as little subtle
+as any woman he had ever met. This directness came no doubt from living so
+far from feminine influences. But he had a feeling that if a man once
+wakened her to love, the instinct of sex would spring full-grown into
+being.
+
+They talked of the interests common to the country, of how the spring
+rains had helped the range, of Shorty McCabe's broken leg, of the new
+school district that was being formed. Before she knew it Kate was
+listening to his defense of himself in the campaign between him and her
+father. He found her a partisan beyond chance of conversion. Yet she heard
+patiently his justification.
+
+"I didn't make the conditions that are here. I have to accept them. The
+government establishes forest reserves on the range. No use ramming my
+head against a stone wall. Uncle Sam is bigger than we are. Your father
+and his friends got stubborn. I didn't."
+
+"No, you were very wise," she admitted dryly.
+
+"You mean because I adapted myself to the conditions and made the best of
+them. Why shouldn't I?" he flushed.
+
+"Father's cattle had run over that range thirty years almost. What right
+had you to take it from him?"
+
+"Conditions change. He wouldn't see it. I did. As for the right of
+it--well, Luck ain't king of the valley just because he thinks he is."
+
+She began to grow angry. A dull flush burned through the tan of her
+cheeks.
+
+"So you bought sheep and brought them in to ruin the range, knowing that
+they would cut the feeding ground to pieces, kill the roots of vegetation
+with their sharp hoofs, and finally fill the country with little gullies
+to carry off the water that ought to sink into the ground."
+
+"Sheep ain't so bad if they are run right."
+
+"It depends where they run. This is no place for them."
+
+"That's what you hear your father say. He's prejudiced."
+
+"And you're not, I suppose."
+
+"I'm more reasonable than he is."
+
+"Yes, you are," she flung back at him irritably.
+
+Open country lay before them. They had come out from a stretch of heavy
+underbrush. Catclaw had been snatching at their legs. Cholla had made the
+traveling bad for the horses. Now she put her pony to a canter that for
+the time ended conversation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+A COMPROMISE
+
+
+Luck lay stretched full length on a bunk, his face, to the roof, a wreath
+of smoke from his cigar traveling slowly toward the ceiling into a filmy
+blue cloud which hung above him. He looked the personification of vigorous
+full-blooded manhood at ease. Experience had taught him to take the
+exigencies of his turbulent life as they came, nonchalantly, to the eye of
+an observer indifferently, getting all the comfort the situation had to
+offer.
+
+By the table, facing him squarely, sat Jose Dominguez, a neatly built
+Mexican with snapping black eyes, a manner of pleasant suavity, and an
+ever-ready smile that displayed a double row of shining white teeth. That
+smile did not for an instant deceive Luck. He knew that Jose had no grudge
+against him, that he was a very respectable citizen, and that he would
+regretfully shoot him full of holes if occasion called for so drastic a
+termination to their acquaintanceship. For Dominguez had a third interest
+in the C. F. ranch, and he was the last man in the world to sacrifice his
+business for sentiment. Having put the savings of a lifetime into the
+sheep business, he did not propose to let anybody deprive him of his
+profits either legally or illegally.
+
+Luck was talking easily, in the most casual and amiable of voices.
+
+"No, Dominguez, the way I look at it you and Cass got in bad this time.
+Here's the point. In this little vendetta of ours both sides were trying
+to keep inside the law and win out. When you elected Bolt sheriff that was
+one to you. When you took out that grazing permit and cut me off the
+reserve that was another time you scored heavy. A third time was when you
+brought 'steen thousand of Mary's little lambs baaing across the desert.
+Well, I come back at you by deeding the Circle C to my girl and taking up
+the Del Oro homestead. You contest and lose. Good enough. It's up to you
+to try another move."
+
+"_Si, Senor_, and we move immediate. We persuade you to visit us at our
+summer mountain home where we can talk at leisure. We suggest a
+compromise."
+
+Luck grinned. "Your notion of a compromise and mine don't tally, Jose.
+Your idea is for me to give you the apple and stand by while you eat it.
+Trouble is that both parties to this quarrel are grabbers."
+
+"True, but Senor Cullison must remember his hands are tied behind him. He
+will perhaps not find the grabbing good," his opponent suggested
+politely.
+
+"Come to that, your hands are tied too, my friend. You can't hold me here
+forever. Put me out of business and the kid will surely settle your hash
+by proving up on the claim. What are you going to do about it?"
+
+"Since you ask me, I can only say that it depends on you. Sign the
+relinquishment, give us your word not to prosecute, and you may leave in
+three hours."
+
+Cullison shook his head. "That's where you get in wrong. Buck up against
+the law and you are sure to lose."
+
+"If we lose you lose too," Dominguez answered significantly.
+
+The tinkle of hoofs from the river bed in the gulch below rose through the
+clear air. The Mexican moved swiftly to the door and presently waved a
+handkerchief.
+
+"What gent are you wig-wagging to now?" Luck asked from the bed. "Thought
+I knew all you bold bad bandits by this time. Or is it Cass back again?"
+
+"Yes, it's Cass. There's someone with him too. It is a woman," the Mexican
+discovered in apparent surprise.
+
+"A woman!" Luck took the cigar from his mouth in vague unease. "What is he
+doing here with a woman?"
+
+The Mexican smiled behind his open hand. "Your question anticipates mine,
+Senor. I too ask the same."
+
+The sight of his daughter in the doorway went through the cattleman with a
+chilling shock. She ran forward and with a pathetic cry of joy threw
+herself upon him where he stood. His hands were tied behind him. Only by
+the turn of his head and by brushing his unshaven face against hers could
+he answer her caresses. There was a look of ineffable tenderness on his
+face, for he loved her more than anything else on earth.
+
+"Mr. Fendrick brought me," she explained when articulate expression was
+possible.
+
+"He brought you, did he?" Luck looked across her shoulder at his enemy,
+and his eyes grew hard as jade.
+
+"Of my own free will," she added.
+
+"I promised you a better argument than those I'd given you. Miss Cullison
+is that argument," Fendrick said.
+
+The cattleman's set face had a look more deadly than words. It told
+Fendrick he would gladly have killed him where he stood. For Luck knew he
+was cornered and must yield. Neither Dominguez nor Blackwell would consent
+to let her leave otherwise.
+
+"He brought me here to have a talk with you, Dad. You must sign any paper
+he wants you to sign."
+
+"And did he promise to take you back home after our talk?"
+
+"Miss Cullison would not want to leave as long as her father was here,"
+Fendrick answered for her glibly with a smile that said more than the
+words.
+
+"I'm going to hold you responsible for bringing her here."
+
+Fendrick could not face steadily the eyes of his foe. They bored into him
+like gimlets.
+
+"And responsible for getting her back home just as soon as I say the
+word," Luck added, the taut muscles standing out in his clenched jaw.
+
+"I expect your say-so won't be final in this matter, Luck. But I'll take
+the responsibility. Miss Cullison will get home at the proper time."
+
+"I'm not going home till you do," the girl broke in. "Oh, Dad, we've been
+so worried. You can't think."
+
+"You've played a rotten trick on me, Fendrick. I wouldn't have thought it
+even of a sheepman."
+
+"No use you getting crazy with the heat, Cullison. Your daughter asked me
+to bring her here, and I brought her. Of course I'm not going to break my
+neck getting her home where she can 'phone Bolt or Bucky O'Connor and have
+us rounded up. That ain't reasonable to expect. But I aim to do what's
+right. We'll all have supper together like sensible folks. Then Jose and I
+will give you the cabin for the night if you'll promise not to attempt to
+escape. In the morning maybe you'll see things different."
+
+Fendrick calculated not without reason that the best thing to do would be
+to give Kate a chance for a long private talk with her father. Her
+influence would be more potent than any he could bring to bear.
+
+After supper the door of the cabin was locked and a sentry posted. The
+prisoners were on parole, but Cass did not on that account relax his
+vigilance. For long he and his partner could hear a low murmur of voices
+from within the cabin. At length the lights went out and presently the
+voices died. But all through the night one or the other of the sheepmen
+patroled a beat that circled around and around the house.
+
+Fendrick did not broach the subject at issue next morning till after
+breakfast.
+
+"Well, what have you decided?" he asked at last.
+
+"Let's hear about that compromise. What is it you offer?" Luck demanded
+gruffly.
+
+"You sign the relinquishment and agree not to make us any trouble because
+we brought you here, and you may go by two o'clock."
+
+"You want to reach Saguache with the relinquishment in time to file it
+before I could get to a 'phone. You don't trust me."
+
+Fendrick smiled. "When we let you go we're trusting you a heap more than
+we would most men. But of course you're going to be sore about this and we
+don't want to put temptation in your way."
+
+"I see. Well, I accept your terms. I'll make you no _legal_ trouble. But I
+tell you straight this thing ain't ended. It's only just begun. I'm going
+to run you out of this country before I'm through with you."
+
+"Go to it. We'll see whether you make good."
+
+"Where is that paper you want me to sign?"
+
+Luck dashed off his signature and pushed the document from him. He hated
+the necessity that forced him to surrender. For himself he would have died
+rather than give way, but he had to think of his daughter and of his boy
+Sam who was engaged in a plot to hold up a train.
+
+His stony eyes met those of the man across the table. "No need for me to
+tell you what I think of this. A white man wouldn't have done such a
+trick. It takes sheepherders and greasers to put across a thing so
+damnable as dragging a woman into a feud."
+
+Fendrick flushed angrily. "It's not my fault; you're a pigheaded obstinate
+chump. I used the only weapon left me."
+
+Kate, standing straight and tall behind her father's chair, looked at
+their common foe with uncompromising scorn. "He is not to blame, Dad. He
+can't help it because he doesn't see how despicable a thing he has done."
+
+Again the blood rushed to the face of the sheepman. "I reckon that will
+hold me hitched for the present, Miss Cullison. In the meantime I'll go
+file that homestead entry of mine. Nothing like living up to the opinion
+your friends have of you."
+
+He wheeled away abruptly, but as he went out of the door one word came to
+him.
+
+"Friends!" Kate had repeated, and her voice told fully the contempt she
+felt.
+
+At exactly two o'clock Dominguez set the Cullisons on the homeward road.
+He fairly dripped apologies for the trouble to which he and his friends
+had been compelled to put them.
+
+Blackwell, who had arrived to take his turn as guard, stood in the doorway
+and sulkily watched them go.
+
+[Illustration: SHE WAS THANKING GOD THE AFFAIR WAS ENDED]
+
+From the river bed below the departing guests looked up at the cabin
+hidden in the pines. The daughter was thanking God in her heart that the
+affair was ended. Her father was vowing to himself that it had just
+begun.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+AN ARREST
+
+
+After half a week in the saddle Lieutenant Bucky O'Connor of the Arizona
+Rangers and Curly Flandrau reached Saguache tired and travel-stained. They
+had combed the Rincons without having met hide or hair of the men they
+wanted. Early next morning they would leave town again and this time would
+make for Soapy Stone's horse ranch.
+
+Bucky O'Connor was not disheartened. Though he was the best man hunter in
+Arizona, it was all in the day's work that criminals should sometimes
+elude him. But with Curly the issue was a personal one. He owed Luck
+Cullison a good deal and his imagination had played over the picture of
+that moment when he could go to Kate and tell her he had freed her
+father.
+
+After reaching town the first thing each of them did was to take a bath,
+the second to get shaved. From the barber shop they went to the best
+restaurant in Saguache. Curly was still busy with his pie _a la mode_ when
+Burridge Thomas, United States Land Commissioner for that district, took
+the seat opposite and told to O'Connor a most interesting piece of news.
+
+They heard him to an end without interruption. Then Curly spoke one word.
+"Fendrick."
+
+"Yes, sir, Cass Fendrick. Came in about one o'clock and handed me the
+relinquishment just as I've been telling you."
+
+"Then filed on the claim himself, you said."
+
+"Yes, took it up himself."
+
+"Sure the signature to the relinquishment was genuine?"
+
+"I'd take oath to it. As soon as he had gone I got out the original filing
+and compared the two. Couldn't be any possible mistake. Nobody could have
+forged the signature. It is like Luck himself, strong and forceful and
+decided."
+
+"We're not entirely surprised, Mr. Thomas," Lieutenant O'Connor told the
+commissioner. "In point of fact we've rather been looking for something of
+the kind."
+
+"Then you know where Luck is?" Thomas, a sociable garrulous soul, leaned
+forward eagerly.
+
+"No, we don't. But we've a notion Fendrick knows." Bucky gave the
+government appointee his most blandishing smile. "Of course we know _you_
+won't talk about this, Mr. Thomas. Can we depend on your deputies?"
+
+"I'll speak to them."
+
+"We're much obliged to you. This clears up a point that was in doubt to
+us. By the way, what was the date when the relinquishment was signed?"
+
+"To-day."
+
+"And who was the notary that witnessed it?"
+
+"Dominguez. He's a partner of Fendrick in the sheep business."
+
+"Quite a family affair, isn't it. Well, I'll let you know how things come
+out, Mr. Thomas. You'll be interested to know. Have a cigar."
+
+Bucky rose. "See you later, Curly. Sorry I have to hurry, Mr. Thomas, but
+I've thought of something I'll have to do right away."
+
+Bucky followed El Molino Street to the old plaza and cut across it to the
+Hotel Wayland. After a sharp scrutiny of the lobby and a nod of
+recognition to an acquaintance he sauntered to the desk and looked over
+the register. There, among the arrivals of the day, was the entry he had
+hoped to see.
+
+                  Cass Fendrick, C. F. Ranch, Arizona.
+
+The room that had been assigned to him was 212.
+
+"Anything you want in particular, Lieutenant?" the clerk asked.
+
+"No-o. Just looking to see who came in to-day."
+
+He turned away and went up the stairs, ignoring the elevator. On the
+second floor he found 212. In answer to his knock a voice said "Come in."
+Opening the door, he stepped in, closed it behind him, and looked at the
+man lying in his shirt sleeves on the bed.
+
+"Evening, Cass."
+
+Fendrick put down his newspaper but did not rise. "Evening, Bucky."
+
+Their eyes held to each other with the level even gaze of men who
+recognize a worthy antagonist.
+
+"I've come to ask a question or two."
+
+"Kick them out."
+
+"First, I would like to know what you paid Luck Cullison for his Del Oro
+claim."
+
+"Thinking of buying me out?" was the ironical retort of the man on the
+bed.
+
+"Not quite. I've got another reason for wanting to know."
+
+"Then you better ask Cullison. The law says that if a man _sells_ a
+relinquishment he can't file on another claim. If he surrenders it for
+nothing he can. Now Luck may have notions of filing on another claim. You
+can see that we'll have to take it for granted he gave me the claim."
+
+It was so neat an answer and at the same time so complete a one that
+O'Connor could not help appreciating it. He smiled and tried again.
+
+"We'll put that question in the discard. That paper was signed by Luck
+to-day. Where was he when you got it from him?"
+
+"Sure it was signed to-day? Couldn't it have been ante-dated?"
+
+"You know better than I do. When was it signed?"
+
+Fendrick laughed. He was watching the noted officer of rangers with
+narrowed wary eyes. "On advice of counsel I decline to answer."
+
+"Sorry, Cass. That leaves me only one thing to do. You're under arrest."
+
+"For what?" demanded the sheepman sharply.
+
+"For abducting Luck Cullison and holding him prisoner without his
+consent."
+
+Lazily Cass drawled a question. "Are you right sure Cullison can't be
+found?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Are you right sure he ain't at home attending to his business?"
+
+"Has he come back?"
+
+"Maybe so. I'm not Luck Cullison's keeper."
+
+Bucky thought he understood. In return for the relinquishment Cullison had
+been released. Knowing Luck as he did, it was hard for him to see how
+pressure enough had been brought to bear to move him.
+
+"May I use your 'phone?" he asked.
+
+"Help yourself."
+
+Fendrick pretended to have lost interest. He returned to his newspaper,
+but his ears were alert to catch what went on over the wires. It was
+always possible that Cullison might play him false and break the
+agreement. Cass did not expect this, for the owner of the Circle C was a
+man whose word was better than most men's bond. But the agreement had been
+forced upon him through a trick. How far he might feel this justified him
+in ignoring it the sheepman did not know.
+
+O'Connor got the Circle C on long distance. It was the clear contralto of
+a woman that answered his "Hello!"
+
+"Is this Miss Cullison?" he asked. Almost at once he added: "O'Connor of
+the rangers is speaking. I've heard your father is home again. Is that
+true?"
+
+An interval followed during which the ranger officer was put into the role
+of a listener. His occasional "Yes----Yes----Yes" punctuated the rapid
+murmur that reached Fendrick.
+
+Presently Bucky asked a question. "On his way to town now?"
+
+Again the rapid murmur.
+
+"I'll attend to that, Miss Cullison. I am in Fendrick's room now. Make
+your mind easy."
+
+Bucky hung up and turned to the sheepman. The latter showed him a face of
+derision. He had gathered one thing that disquieted him, but he did not
+intend to let O'Connor know it.
+
+"Well?" he jeered. "Find friend Cullison in tolerable health?"
+
+"I've been talking with his daughter."
+
+"I judged as much. Miss Spitfire well?"
+
+"Miss Cullison didn't mention her health. We were concerned about yours."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Cullison is headed for town and his daughter is afraid he is on the
+warpath against you."
+
+"You don't say."
+
+"She wanted me to get you out of her father's way until he has cooled
+down."
+
+"Very kind of her."
+
+"She's right, too. You and Luck mustn't meet yet. Get out of here and hunt
+cover in the hills for a few days. You know why better than I do."
+
+"How can I when I'm under arrest?" Fendrick mocked.
+
+"You're not under arrest. Miss Cullison says her father has no charge to
+bring against you."
+
+"Good of him."
+
+"So you can light a shuck soon as you want to."
+
+"Which won't be in any hurry."
+
+"Don't make any mistake. Luck Cullison is a dangerous man when he is
+roused."
+
+The sheepman looked at the ranger with opaque stony eyes. "If Luck
+Cullison is looking for me he is liable to find me, and he won't have to
+go into the hills to hunt me either."
+
+Bucky understood perfectly. According to the code of the frontier no man
+could let himself be driven from town by the knowledge that another man
+was looking for him with a gun. There are in the Southwest now many
+thousands who do not live by the old standard, who are anchored to law and
+civilization as a protection against primitive passions. But Fendrick was
+not one of these. He had deliberately gone outside of the law in his feud
+with the cattleman. Now he would not repudiate the course he had chosen
+and hedge because of the danger it involved. He was an aspirant to
+leadership among the tough hard-bitted denizens of the sunbaked desert.
+That being so, he had to see his feud out to a fighting finish if need
+be.
+
+"There are points about this case you have overlooked," Bucky told him.
+
+"Maybe so. But the important one that sticks out like a sore thumb is that
+no man living can serve notice on me to get out of town because he is
+coming on the shoot."
+
+"Luck didn't serve any such notice. All his daughter knows is that he is
+hot under the collar. Look at things reasonably, Cass. You've caused that
+young lady a heap of trouble already. Are you going to unload a lot more
+on her just because you want to be pigheaded. Only a kid struts around and
+hollers 'Who's afraid?' No, it's up to you to pull out, not because of
+Luck Cullison but on account of his daughter."
+
+"Who is such a thorough friend of mine," the sheepman added with his
+sardonic grin.
+
+"What do you care about that? She's a girl. I don't know the facts, but I
+can guess them. She and Luck will stand pat on what they promised you.
+Don't you owe her something for that? Seems to me a white man wouldn't
+make her any more worry."
+
+"It's because I am a white man that I can't dodge a fight when it's
+stacked up for me, Bucky."
+
+He said it with a dogged finality that was unshaken, but O'Connor made one
+more effort.
+
+"Nobody will know why you left."
+
+"I would know, wouldn't I? I've got to go right on living with myself. I
+tell you straight I'm going to see it out."
+
+Bucky's jaw clamped. "Not if I know it. You're under arrest."
+
+Fendrick sat up in surprise. "What for?" he demanded angrily.
+
+"For robbing the W. & S. Express Company."
+
+"Hell, Bucky. You don't believe that."
+
+"Never mind what I believe. There's some evidence against you--enough to
+justify me."
+
+"You want to get me out of Cullison's way. That's all."
+
+"If you like to put it so."
+
+"I won't stand for it. That ain't square."
+
+"You'll stand for it, my friend. I gave you a chance to clear out and you
+wouldn't take it."
+
+"I wouldn't because I couldn't. Don't make any mistake about this. I'm not
+looking for Luck. I'm attending to my business. Arrest _him_ if you want
+to stop trouble."
+
+There came a knock on the door. It opened to admit Luck Cullison. He shut
+it and put his back to it, while his eyes, hard as hammered iron, swept
+past the officer to fix on Fendrick.
+
+The latter rose quickly from the bed, but O'Connor flung him back.
+
+"Don't forget you're my prisoner."
+
+"He's your prisoner, is he?" This was a turn of affairs for which Luck was
+manifestly unprepared: "Well, I've come to have a little settlement with
+him."
+
+Fendrick, tense as a coiled spring, watched him warily. "Can't be any too
+soon to suit me."
+
+Clear cut as a pair of scissors through paper, Bucky snapped out his
+warning. "Nothing stirring, gentlemen. I'll shoot the first man that makes
+a move."
+
+"Are you in this, Bucky?" asked Cullison evenly.
+
+"You're right I am. He's my prisoner."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"For robbing the W. & S."
+
+Luck's face lit. "Have you evidence enough to cinch him?"
+
+"Not enough yet. But I'll take no chances on his getting away."
+
+The cattleman's countenance reflected his thoughts as his decision hung in
+the balance. He longed to pay his debt on the spot. But on the other hand
+he had been a sheriff himself. As an outsider he had no right to interfere
+between an officer and his captive. Besides, if there was a chance to send
+Fendrick over the road that would be better than killing. It would clear
+up his own reputation, to some extent under a cloud.
+
+"All right, Bucky. If the law wants him I'll step aside for the time."
+
+The sheepman laughed in his ironic fashion. His amusement mocked them
+both. "Most as good as a play of the movies, ain't it? But we'd ought all
+to have our guns out to make it realistic."
+
+But in his heart he did not jeer. For the situation had been nearer red
+tragedy than melodrama. The resource and firmness of Bucky O'Connor had
+alone made it possible to shave disaster by a hair's breadth and no more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A CONVERSATION
+
+
+Bucky O'Connor and his prisoner swung down the street side by side and
+turned in at the headquarters of the rangers. The officer switched on the
+light, shut the door, and indicated a chair. From his desk he drew a box
+of cigars. He struck a match and held it for the sheepman before using it
+himself.
+
+Relaxed in his chair, Fendrick spoke with rather elaborate indolence.
+
+"What's your evidence, Bucky? You can't hold me without any. What have you
+got that ties me to the W. & S. robbery?"
+
+"Why, that hat play, Cass? You let on you had shot Cullison's hat off his
+head while he was making his getaway. Come to find out you had his hat in
+your possession all the time."
+
+"Does that prove I did it myself?"
+
+"Looks funny you happened to be right there while the robbery was taking
+place and that you had Luck's hat with you."
+
+The sleepy tiger look lay warily in the sheepman's eyes. "That's what the
+dictionaries call a coincidence, Bucky."
+
+"They may. I'm not sure I do."
+
+"Fact, just the same."
+
+"I've a notion it will take some explaining."
+
+"Confidentially?"
+
+"Confidentially what?"
+
+"The explanation. You won't use it against me."
+
+"Not if you weren't in the hold-up."
+
+"I wasn't. This is the way it happened. You know Cullison was going to
+prove up on that Del Oro claim on Thursday. That would have put the C. F.
+ranch out of business. I knew he was in town and at the Del Mar, but I
+didn't know where he would be next day. He had me beat. I couldn't see any
+way out but to eat crow and offer a compromise. I hated it like hell, but
+it was up to me to hunt Luck up and see what he would do. His hat gave me
+an excuse to call. So I started out and came round the corner of San Mateo
+Street just in time to see the robber pull out. Honest, the fellow did
+shape up a little like Luck. Right then I got the darned fool notion of
+mixing him up in it. I threw his hat down and shot a hole in it, then
+unlocked the door of the express office carrying the hat in my hand.
+That's all there was to it."
+
+"Pretty low-down trick, wasn't it, to play on an innocent man?"
+
+"He was figuring to do me up. I don't say it was exactly on the square,
+but I was sore at him clear through. I wanted to get him into trouble. I
+_had_ to do something to keep his mind busy till I could turn round and
+think of a way out."
+
+Bucky reflected, looking at the long ash on his cigar. "The man that made
+the raid of the W. & S. shaped up like Luck, you say?"
+
+"In a general way."
+
+The ranger brushed the ash from the end of the cigar into the tray. Then
+he looked quietly at Fendrick. "Who was the man, Cass?"
+
+"I thought I told you----"
+
+"You did. But you lied. It was a moonlight night. And there's an arc light
+at that corner. By your own story, the fellow took his mask off as he
+swung to his horse. You saw his face just as distinctly as I see yours
+now."
+
+"No, I reckon not," Fendrick grinned.
+
+"Meaning you won't tell?"
+
+"That's not how I put it, Bucky. You're the one that says I recognized
+him. Come to think of it, I'm not sure the fellow didn't wear his mask
+till he was out of sight."
+
+"I am."
+
+"You are."
+
+"Yes. The mask was found just outside the office where the man dropped it
+before he got into the saddle."
+
+"So?"
+
+"That's not all. Curly and I found something else, too--the old shirt from
+which the cloth was cut."
+
+The sheepman swept him with one of his side-long, tiger-cat glances.
+"Where did you find it?"
+
+"In a barrel back of the Jack of Hearts."
+
+"Now, if you only knew who put it there," suggested Cass, with ironic
+hopefulness.
+
+"It happens I do. I have a witness who saw a man shove that old shirt down
+in the barrel after tearing a piece off."
+
+"Your witness got a name, Bucky?"
+
+"I'll not mention the name now. If it became too well known something
+might happen to my witness."
+
+Fendrick nodded. "You're wiser there. She wouldn't be safe, not if a
+certain man happened to hear what you've just told me."
+
+"I didn't say _she_, Cass."
+
+"No, I said it. Your witness is Mrs. Wylie."
+
+"Maybe, then, you can guess the criminal, too."
+
+"Maybe I could, but I'm not going to try."
+
+"Then we'll drop that subject. I'll ask you a question. Can you tell me
+where I can find a paroled convict named Blackwell?"
+
+Fendrick shook his head. "Don't know the gentleman. A friend of yours?"
+
+"One of yours. Better come through, Cass. I'm satisfied you weren't
+actually in this robbery, but there is such a thing as accessory after the
+fact. Now, I'm going to get that man. If you want to put yourself right,
+it's up to you to give me the information I want. Where is he?"
+
+"Haven't got him in _my_ pocket."
+
+The officer rose, not one whit less amiable. "I didn't expect you to tell
+me. That's all right. I'll find him. But in the meantime I'll have to lock
+you up till this thing is settled."
+
+From his inside coat pocket, Fendrick drew a sealed envelope, wrote the
+date across the front, and handed it to O'Connor.
+
+"Keep this, Bucky, and remember that I gave it to you. Put it in a safe
+place, but don't open the envelope till I give the word. Understand?"
+
+"I hear what you say, but I don't understand what you mean--what's back of
+it."
+
+"It isn't intended that you should yet. I'm protecting myself. That's
+all."
+
+"I guessed that much. Well, if you're ready, I'll arrange your lodgings
+for the night, Cass. I reckon I'll put you up at a hotel with one of the
+boys."
+
+"Just as you say."
+
+Fendrick rose, and the two men passed into the street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A TOUCH OF THE THIRD DEGREE
+
+
+Cullison was not the man to acknowledge himself beaten so long as there
+was a stone unturned. In the matter of the Del Oro homestead claim he
+moved at once. All of the county commissioners were personal friends of
+his, and he went to them with a plan for a new road to run across the Del
+Oro at the point where the canyon walls opened to a valley.
+
+"What in Mexico is the good of a county road there, Luck? Can't run a
+wagon over them mountains and down to the river. Looks to me like it would
+be a road from nowhere to nowhere," Alec Flandrau protested, puzzled at
+his friend's request.
+
+"I done guessed it," Yesler announced with a grin. "Run a county road
+through, and Cass Fendrick can't fence the river off from Luck's cows.
+Luck ain't aiming to run any wagon over that road."
+
+The Map of Texas man got up and stamped with delight. "I get you. We'll
+learn Cass to take a joke, by gum. Luck sure gets a county road for his
+cows to amble over down to the water. Cass can have his darned old
+homestead now."
+
+When Fendrick heard that the commissioners had condemned a right of way
+for a road through his homestead he unloaded on the desert air a rich
+vocabulary. For here would have been a simple way out of his trouble if he
+had only thought of it. Instead of which he had melodramatically kidnapped
+his enemy and put himself within reach of the law and of Cullison's
+vengeance.
+
+Nor did Luck confine his efforts to self-defense. He knew that to convict
+Fendrick of the robbery he must first lay hands upon Blackwell.
+
+It was, however, Bucky that caught the convict. The two men met at the top
+of a mountain pass. Blackwell, headed south, was slipping down toward
+Stone's horse ranch when they came face to face. Before the bad man had
+his revolver out, he found himself looking down the barrel of the ranger's
+leveled rifle.
+
+"I wouldn't," Bucky murmured genially.
+
+"What you want me for?" Blackwell demanded sulkily.
+
+"For the W. & S. robbery."
+
+"I'm not the man you want. My name's Johnson."
+
+"I'll put up with you till I find the man I do want, Mr. Johnson," Bucky
+told him cheerfully. "Climb down from that horse. No, I wouldn't try that.
+Keep your hands up."
+
+With his prisoner in front of him, O'Connor turned townward. They jogged
+down out of the hills through dark gulches and cactus-clad arroyos. The
+sharp catclaw caught at their legs. Tangled mesquite and ironwood made
+progress slow. They reached in time Apache Desert, and here Bucky camped.
+He hobbled his prisoner's feet and put around his neck a rope, the other
+end of which was tied to his own waist. Then he built a small fire of
+greasewood and made coffee for them both. The prisoner slept, but his
+captor did not. For he could take no chances of an escape.
+
+The outlines of the mountain ranges loomed shadowy and dim on both sides.
+The moonlight played strange tricks with the mesquit and the giant cactus,
+a grove of which gave to the place an awesome aspect of some ghostly
+burial ground of a long vanished tribe.
+
+Next day they reached Saguache. Bucky took his prisoner straight to the
+ranger's office and telephoned to Cullison.
+
+"Don't I get anything to eat?" growled the convict while they waited.
+
+"When I'm ready."
+
+Bucky believed in fair play. The man had not eaten since last night. But
+then neither had he. It happened that Bucky was tough as whipcord, as
+supple and untiring as a hickory sapling. Well, Blackwell was a pretty
+hard nut to crack, too. The lieutenant did not know anything about book
+psychology, but he had observed that hunger and weariness try out the
+stuff that is in a man. Under the sag of them many a will snaps that would
+have held fast if sustained by a good dinner and a sound night's sleep.
+This is why so many "bad men," gun fighters with a reputation for
+gameness, wilt on occasion like whipped curs. In the old days this came to
+nearly every terror of the border. Some day when he had a jumping
+toothache, or when his nerves were frayed from a debauch, a silent
+stranger walked into his presence, looked long and steadily into his eyes,
+and ended forever his reign of lawlessness. Sometimes the two-gun man was
+"planted," sometimes he subsided into innocuous peace henceforth.
+
+The ranger had a shrewd instinct that the hour had come to batter down
+this fellow's dogged resistance. Therefore he sent for Cullison, the man
+whom the convict most feared.
+
+The very look of the cattleman, with that grim, hard, capable aspect,
+shook Blackwell's nerve.
+
+"So you've got him, Bucky."
+
+Luck looked the man over as he sat handcuffed beside the table and read in
+his face both terror and a sly, dogged cunning. Once before the fellow had
+been put through the third degree. Something of the sort he fearfully
+expected now. Villainy is usually not consistent. This hulking bully
+should have been a hardy ruffian. Instead, he shrank like a schoolgirl
+from the thought of physical pain.
+
+"Stand up," ordered Cullison quietly.
+
+Blackwell got to his feet at once. He could not help it, even though the
+fear in his eyes showed that he cowered before the anticipated attack.
+
+"Don't hit me," he whined.
+
+Luck knew the man sweated under the punishment his imagination called up,
+and he understood human nature too well to end the suspense by making real
+the vision. For then the worst would be past, since the actual is never
+equal to what is expected.
+
+"Well?" Luck watched him with the look of tempered steel in his hard
+eyes.
+
+The convict flinched, moistened his lips with his tongue, and spoke at
+last.
+
+"I--I--Mr. Cullison, I want to explain. Every man is liable to make a
+mistake--go off half cocked. I didn't do right. That's a fac'. I can
+explain all that, but I'm sick now--awful sick."
+
+Cullison laughed harshly. "You'll be sicker soon."
+
+"You promised you wouldn't do anything if we turned you loose," the man
+plucked up courage to remind him.
+
+"I promised the law wouldn't do anything. You'll understand the
+distinction presently."
+
+"Mr. Cullison, please---- I admit I done wrong. I hadn't ought to have
+gone in with Cass Fendrick. He wanted me to kill you, but I wouldn't."
+
+With that unwinking gaze the ranchman beat down his lies, while fear
+dripped in perspiration from the pallid face of the prisoner.
+
+Bucky had let Cullison take the center of the stage. He had observed a
+growing distress mount and ride the victim. Now he stepped in to save the
+man with an alternative at which Blackwell might be expected not to snatch
+eagerly perhaps, but at least to be driven toward.
+
+"This man is my prisoner, Mr. Cullison. From what I can make out you ought
+to strip his hide off and hang it up to dry. But I've got first call on
+him. If he comes through with the truth about the W. & S. Express robbery,
+I've got to protect him."
+
+Luck understood the ranger. They were both working toward the same end.
+The immediate punishment of this criminal was not the important issue. It
+was merely a club with which to beat him into submission, and at that a
+moral rather than a physical one. But the owner of the Circle C knew
+better than to yield to Bucky too easily. He fought the point out with him
+at length, and finally yielded reluctantly, in such a way as to aggravate
+rather than relieve the anxiety of the convict.
+
+"All right. You take him first," he finally conceded harshly.
+
+Bucky kept up the comedy. "I'll take him, Mr. Cullison. But if he tells me
+the truth--and if I find out it's the whole truth--there'll be nothing
+doing on your part. He's my prisoner. Understand that."
+
+Metaphorically, Blackwell licked the hand of his protector. He was still
+standing, but his attitude gave the effect of crouching.
+
+"I aim to do what's right, Captain O'Connor. Whatever's right. You ask me
+any questions."
+
+"I want to know all about the W. & S. robbery, everything, from start to
+finish."
+
+"Honest, I wish I could tell you. But I don't know a thing about it. Cross
+my heart, I don't."
+
+"No use, Blackwell. If I'm going to stand by you against Mr. Cullison,
+you'll have to tell the truth. Why, man, I've even got the mask you wore
+and the cloth you cut it from."
+
+"I reckon it must a-been some one else, Major. Wisht I could help you, but
+I can't."
+
+Bucky rose. "All right. If you can't help me, I can't help you."
+Apparently he dismissed the matter from his mind, for he looked at his
+watch and turned to the cattleman. "Mr. Cullison, I reckon I'll run out
+and have some supper. Do you mind staying here with this man till I get
+back?"
+
+"No. That's all right, Bucky. Don't hurry, I'll keep him entertained."
+Perhaps it was not by chance that his eye wandered to a blacksnake whip
+hanging on the wall.
+
+O'Connor sauntered to the door. The frightened gaze of the prisoner clung
+to him as if for safety.
+
+"Major--Colonel--you ain't a-going," he pleaded.
+
+"Only for an hour or two. I'll be back. I wouldn't think of saying
+good-by--not till we reach Yuma."
+
+With that the door closed behind him. Blackwell cried out, hurriedly,
+eagerly. "Mister O'Connor!"
+
+Bucky's head reappeared. "What! Have you reduced me to the ranks already?
+I was looking to be a general by the time I got back," he complained
+whimsically.
+
+"I--I'll tell you everything--every last thing. Mr. Cullison--he's aiming
+to kill me soon as you've gone."
+
+"I've got no time to fool away, Blackwell. I'm hungry. If you mean
+business get to it. But remember that whatever you say will be used
+against you."
+
+"I'll tell you any dog-goned thing you want to know. You've got me beat.
+I'm plumb wore out--sick. A man can't stand everything."
+
+O'Connor came in and closed the door. "Let's have it, then--the whole
+story. I want it all: how you came to know about this shipment of money,
+how you pulled it off, what you have done with it, all the facts from
+beginning to the end."
+
+"Lemme sit down, Captain. I'm awful done up. I reckon while I was in the
+hills I've been underfed."
+
+"Sit down. There's a good dinner waiting for you at Clune's when you get
+through."
+
+Even then, though he must have known that lies could not avail, the man
+sprinkled his story with them. The residuum of truth that remained after
+these had been sifted out was something like this.
+
+He had found on the street a letter that had inadvertently been dropped.
+It was to Jordan of the Cattlemen's National Bank, and it notified him
+that $20,000 was to be shipped to him by the W. & S. Express Company on
+the night of the robbery. Blackwell resolved to have a try for it. He hung
+around the office until the manager and the guard arrived from the train,
+made his raid upon them, locked the door, and threw away his mask. He
+dived with the satchel into the nearest alley, and came face to face with
+the stranger whom he later learned to be Fendrick. The whole story of the
+horse had been a myth later invented by the sheepman to scatter the
+pursuit by making it appear that the robber had come from a distance. As
+the street had been quite deserted at the time this detail could be
+plausibly introduced with no chance of a denial.
+
+Fendrick, who had heard the shouting of the men locked in the express
+office, stopped the robber, but Blackwell broke away and ran down the
+alley. The sheepman followed and caught him. After another scuffle the
+convict again hammered himself free, but left behind the hand satchel
+containing the spoils. Fendrick (so he later explained to Blackwell) tied
+a cord to the handle of the bag and dropped it down the chute of a laundry
+in such a way that it could later be drawn up. Then he hurried back to the
+express office and released the prisoners. After the excitement had
+subsided, he had returned for the money and hid it. The original robber
+did not know where.
+
+Blackwell's second meeting with the sheepman had been almost as startling
+as the first. Cass had run into the Jack of Hearts in time to save the
+life of his enemy. The two men recognized each other and entered into a
+compact to abduct Cullison, for his share in which the older man was paid
+one thousand dollars. The Mexican Dominguez had later appeared on the
+scene, had helped guard the owner of the Circle C, and had assisted in
+taking him to the hut in the Rincons where he had been secreted.
+
+Both men asked the same question as soon as he had finished.
+
+"Where is the money you got from the raid on the W. & S. office?"
+
+"Don't know. I've been at Fendrick ever since to tell me. He's got it
+salted somewhere. You're fixing to put me behind the bars, and he's the
+man that really stole it."
+
+From this they could not shake him. He stuck to it vindictively, for
+plainly his malice against the sheepman was great. The latter had spoiled
+his coup, robbed him of its fruits, and now was letting him go to prison.
+
+"I reckon we'd better have a talk with Cass," Bucky suggested in a low
+voice to the former sheriff.
+
+Luck laughed significantly. "When we find him."
+
+For the sheepman had got out on bail the morning after his arrest.
+
+"We'll find him easily enough. And I rather think he'll have a good
+explanation, even if this fellow's story is true."
+
+"Oh, he'll be loaded with explanations. I don't doubt that for a minute.
+But it will take a hell of a lot of talk to get away from the facts. I've
+got him where I want him now, and by God! I'll make him squeal before the
+finish."
+
+"Oh, well, you're prejudiced," Bucky told him with an amiable smile.
+
+"Course I am; prejudiced as old Wall-eyed Rogers was against the
+vigilantes for hanging him on account of horse stealing. But I'll back my
+prejudices all the same. We'll see I'm right, Bucky."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+BOB TAKES A HAND
+
+
+Fendrick, riding on Mesa Verde, met Bob Cullison, and before he knew what
+had happened found a gun thrown on him.
+
+"Don't you move," the boy warned.
+
+"What does this tommyrot mean?" the sheepman demanded angrily.
+
+"It means that you are coming back with me to the ranch. That's what it
+means."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Never you mind what for."
+
+"Oh, go to Mexico," Cass flung back impatiently. "Think we're in some fool
+moving-picture play, you blamed young idiot. Put up that gun."
+
+Shrilly Bob retorted. He was excited enough to be dangerous. "Don't you
+get the wrong idea. I'm going to make this stick. You'll turn and go back
+with me to the Circle C."
+
+"And you'll travel to Yuma first thing you know, you young Jesse James.
+What _you_ need is a pair of leather chaps applied to your hide."
+
+"You'll go home with me, just the same."
+
+"You've got one more guess coming, kid. I'll not go without knowing why."
+
+"You're wanted for the W. & S. Express robbery. Blackwell has confessed."
+
+"Confessed that I did it?" Fendrick inquired scornfully.
+
+"Says you were in it with him. I ain't a-going to discuss it with you.
+Swing that horse round; and don't make any breaks, or there'll be mourning
+at the C. F. ranch."
+
+Cass sat immovable as the sphinx. He was thinking that he might as well
+face the charge now as any time. Moreover, he had reasons for wanting to
+visit the Circle C. They had to do with a tall, slim girl who never looked
+at him without scorn in her dark, flashing eyes.
+
+"All right. I'll go back with you, but not under a gun."
+
+"You'll go the way I say."
+
+"Don't think it. I've said I'll go. That settles it. But I won't stand for
+any gun-play capture."
+
+"You'll have to stand for it."
+
+Fendrick's face set. "Will I? It's up to you, then. Let's see you make
+me."
+
+Sitting there with his gaze steadily on the boy, Cass had Bob at a
+disadvantage. If the sheep owner had tried to break away into the
+chaparral. Bob could have blazed away at him, but he could not shoot a man
+looking at him with cynical, amused eyes. He could understand the point of
+view of his adversary. If Fendrick rode into the Circle C under compulsion
+of a gun in the hands of a boy he would never hear the end of the laugh on
+him.
+
+"You won't try to light out, will you?"
+
+"I've got no notion of lighting out."
+
+Bob put up his big blue gun reluctantly. Never before had it been trained
+on a human being, and it was a wrench to give up the thought of bringing
+in the enemy as a prisoner. But he saw he could not pull it off. Fendrick
+had declined to scare, had practically laughed him out of it. The boy had
+not meant his command as a bluff, but Cass knew him better than he did
+himself.
+
+They turned toward the Circle C.
+
+"Must have been taking lessons on how to bend a gun. You in training for
+sheriff, or are you going to take Bucky's place with the rangers?"
+Fendrick asked with casual impudence, malicious amusement gleaming from
+his lazy eyes.
+
+Bob, very red about the ears, took refuge in a sulky silence. He was being
+guyed, and not by an inch did he propose to compromise the Cullison
+dignity.
+
+"From the way you go at it, I figure you an old hand at the hold-up game.
+Wonder if you didn't pull off the W. & S. raid yourself."
+
+Bob writhed impotently. At this sort of thing he was no match for the
+other. Fendrick, now in the best of humors, planted lazily his offhand
+barbs.
+
+Kate was seated on the porch sewing. She rose in surprise when her cousin
+and the sheepman appeared. They came with jingling spurs across the plaza
+toward her. Bob was red as a turkeycock, but Fendrick wore his most
+devil-may-care insouciance.
+
+"Where's Uncle Luck, sis? I've brought this fellow back with me. Caught
+him on the mesa," explained the boy sulkily.
+
+Fendrick bowed rather extravagantly and flashed at the girl a smiling
+double-row of strong white teeth. "He's qualifying for a moving-picture
+show actor, Miss Cullison. I hadn't the heart to disappoint him when he
+got that cannon trained on me. So here I am."
+
+Kate looked at him and then let her gaze travel to her cousin. She somehow
+gave the effect of judging him of negligible value.
+
+"I think he's in his office, Bob. I'll go see."
+
+She went swiftly, and presently her father came out. Kate did not return.
+
+Luck looked straight at Cass with the uncompromising hostility so
+characteristic of him. Neither of the men spoke. It was Bob who made the
+necessary explanations. The sheepman heard them with a polite derision
+that suggested an impersonal amusement at the situation.
+
+"I've been looking for you," Luck said bluntly, after his nephew had
+finished.
+
+"So I gathered from young Jesse James. He intimated it over the long blue
+barrel of his cannon. Anything particular, or just a pleasant social
+call?"
+
+"You're in bad on this W. & S. robbery. I reckoned you would be safer in
+jail till it's cleared up."
+
+"You still sheriff, Mr. Cullison? Somehow I had got a notion you had quit
+the job."
+
+"I'm an interested party. There's new evidence, not manufactured,
+either."
+
+"Well, well!"
+
+"We'll take the stage into town and see what O'Connor says--that is, if
+you've got time to go." Luck could be as formal in his sarcasm as his
+neighbor.
+
+"With such good company on the way I'll have to make time."
+
+The stage did not usually leave till about half past one. Presently Kate
+announced dinner. A little awkwardly Luck invited the sheepman to join
+them. Fendrick declined. He was a Fletcherite, he informed Cullison
+ironically, and was in the habit of missing meals occasionally. This would
+be one of the times.
+
+His host hung in the doorway. Seldom at a loss to express himself, he did
+not quite know how to put into words what he was thinking. His enemy
+understood.
+
+"That's all right. You've satisfied the demands of hospitality. Go eat
+your dinner. I'll be right here on the porch when you get through."
+
+Kate, who was standing beside her father, spoke quietly.
+
+"There's a place for you, Mr. Fendrick. We should be very pleased to have
+you join us. People who happen to be at the Circle C at dinner time are
+expected to eat here."
+
+"Come and eat, man. You'll be under no obligations. I reckon you can hate
+us, just as thorough after a square meal as before. Besides, I was your
+guest for several days."
+
+Fendrick looked at the young mistress of the ranch. He meant to decline
+once more, but unaccountably found himself accepting instead. Something in
+her face told him she would rather have it so.
+
+Wherefore Cass found himself with his feet under the table of his foe
+discussing various topics that had nothing to do with sheep, homestead
+claims, abductions, or express robberies. He looked at Kate but rarely,
+yet he was aware of her all the time. At his ranch a Mexican did the
+cooking in haphazard fashion. The food was ill prepared and worse served.
+He ate only because it was a necessity, and he made as short a business of
+it as he could. Here were cut roses on a snowy tablecloth, an air of
+leisure that implied the object of dinner to be something more than to
+devour a given quantity of food. Moreover, the food had a flavor that made
+it palatable. The rib roast was done to a turn, the mashed potatoes
+whipped to a flaky lightness. The vegetable salad was a triumph, and the
+rice custard melted in his mouth.
+
+Presently a young man came into the dining room and sat down beside Kate.
+He looked the least in the world surprised at sight of the sheepman.
+
+"Mornin', Cass," he nodded
+
+"Morning, Curly," answered Fendrick. "Didn't know you were riding for the
+Circle C."
+
+"He's my foreman," Luck explained.
+
+Cass observed that he was quite one of the family. Bob admired him openly
+and without shame, because he was the best rider in Arizona; Kate seemed
+to be on the best of terms with him, and Luck treated him with the offhand
+bluffness he might have used toward a grown son.
+
+If Cass had, in his bitter, sardonic fashion, been interested in Kate
+before he sat down, the feeling had quickened to something different
+before he rose. It was not only that she was competent to devise such a
+meal in the desert. There was something else. She had made a _home_ for
+her father and cousin at the Circle C. The place radiated love,
+domesticity, kindly good fellowship. The casual give and take of the
+friendly talk went straight to the heart of the sheepman. This was living.
+It came to him poignantly that in his scramble for wealth he had missed
+that which was of far greater importance.
+
+The stage brought the two men to town shortly after sundown. Luck called
+up O'Connor, and made an appointment to meet him after supper.
+
+"Back again, Bucky," Fendrick grinned at sight of the ranger. "I hear I'm
+suspected of being a bad hold-up."
+
+"There's a matter that needs explaining, Cass. According to Blackwell's
+story, you caught him with the goods at the time of the robbery, and in
+making his getaway he left the loot with you. What have you done with
+it?"
+
+"Blackwell told you that, did he?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Don't doubt your word for a moment, Bucky, but before I do any talking
+I'd like to hear him say so. I'll not round on him until I know he's given
+himself away."
+
+The convict was sent for. He substantiated the ranger reluctantly. He was
+so hemmed in that he did not know how to play his cards so as to make the
+most of them. He hated Fendrick. But much as he desired to convict him, he
+could not escape an uneasy feeling that he was going to be made the
+victim. For Cass took it with that sarcastic smile of his that mocked them
+all in turn. The convict trusted none of them. Already he felt the
+penitentiary walls closing on him. He was like a trapped coyote, ready to
+snarl and bite at the first hand he could reach. Just now this happened to
+belong to Fendrick, who had cheated him out of the money he had stolen and
+had brought this upon him.
+
+Cass heard him out with a lifted upper lip and his most somnolent
+tiger-cat expression. After Blackwell had finished and been withdrawn from
+circulation he rolled and lit a cigarette.
+
+"By Mr. Blackwell's say-so I'm the goat. By the way, has it ever occurred
+to you gentlemen that one can't be convicted on the testimony of a single
+accomplice?" He asked it casually, his chair tipped back, smoke wreaths
+drifting lazily ceilingward.
+
+"We've got a little circumstantial evidence to add, Cass." Bucky suggested
+pleasantly.
+
+"Not enough--not nearly enough."
+
+"That will be for a jury to decide," Cullison chipped in.
+
+Fendrick shrugged. "I've a notion to let it go to that. But what's the
+use? Understand this. I wasn't going to give Blackwell away, but since he
+has talked, I may tell what I know. It's true enough what he says. I did
+relieve him of the plunder."
+
+"Sorry to hear that, Cass," Bucky commented gravely. "What did you do with
+it?"
+
+The sheep owner flicked his cigarette ash into the tray, and looked at the
+lieutenant out of half-shuttered, indolent eyes. "Gave it to you, Bucky."
+
+O'Connor sat up. His blue Irish eyes were dancing. "You're a cool
+customer, Cass."
+
+"Fact, just the same. Got that letter I handed you the other day?"
+
+The officer produced it from his safe.
+
+"Open it."
+
+With a paper knife Bucky ripped the flap and took out a sheet of paper.
+
+"There's something else in there," Fendrick suggested.
+
+The something else proved to be a piece of paper folded tightly, which
+being opened disclosed a key.
+
+O'Connor read aloud the letter:
+
+  To Nicholas Bolt, Sheriff, Or Bucky O'connor, Lieutenant of Rangers:
+
+  Having come into possession of a little valise which is not mine, I
+  am getting rid of it in the following manner. I have rented a large
+  safety-deposit box at the Cattlemen's National Bank, and have put
+  into it the valise with the lock still unbroken. The key is inclosed
+  herewith. Shaw, the cashier, will tell you that when this box was
+  rented I gave explicit orders it should be opened only by the men
+  whose names are given in an envelope left with him, not even
+  excepting myself. The valise was deposited at exactly 10:30 A. M. the
+  morning after the robbery, as Mr. Shaw will also testify. I am
+  writing this the evening of the same day.
+
+  Cass Fendrick.
+
+"Don't believe a word of it," Cullison exploded.
+
+"Seeing is believing," the sheepman murmured. He was enjoying greatly the
+discomfiture of his foe.
+
+"Makes a likely fairy tale. What for would you keep the money and not turn
+it back?"
+
+"That's an easy one, Luck. He wanted to throw the burden of the robbery on
+you," Bucky explained.
+
+"Well, I've got to be shown."
+
+In the morning he was shown. Shaw confirmed exactly what Fendrick had
+said. He produced a sealed envelope. Within this was a sheet of paper,
+upon which were written two lines.
+
+  Box 2143 is to be opened only by Sheriff Bolt or Lieutenant Bucky
+  O'Connor of the Rangers, and before witnesses.
+
+  CASS FENDRICK.
+
+From the safety-deposit vault Bucky drew a large package wrapped in yellow
+paper. He cut the string, tore away the covering, and disclosed a leather
+satchel. Perry Hawley, the local manager of the Western & Southern Express
+Company, fitted to this a key and took out a sealed bundle. This he ripped
+open before them all. Inside was found the sum of twenty thousand dollars
+in crisp new bills.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+A CLEAN UP
+
+
+A slight accident occurred at the jail, one so unimportant that Scanlan
+the jailer did not think it worth reporting to his chief. Blackwell, while
+eating, knocked a glass from the table and broke it on the cement floor of
+his cell. There is a legend to the effect that for want of a nail a battle
+was lost. By reason of a bit of glass secreted in his bed something quite
+as important happened to the convict.
+
+From the little table in his room he pried loose one of the corner braces.
+At night he scraped away at this with his bit of glass until the wood
+began to take the shape of a revolver. This he carefully blacked with the
+ink brought him by his guard. To the end of his weapon he fitted an iron
+washer taken from the bedstead. Then he waited for his opportunity.
+
+His chance came through the good nature of Scanlan. The jailer was in the
+habit of going down town to loaf for an hour or two with old cronies after
+he had locked up for the night. Blackwell pretended to be out of chewing
+tobacco and asked the guard to buy him some. About ten o'clock Scanlan
+returned and brought the tobacco to his prisoner. The moon was shining
+brightly, and he did not bring a lantern with him. As he passed the plug
+through the grating Blackwell's fingers closed around his wrist and drew
+the man close to the iron lattice work. Simultaneously a cold rim was
+pressed against the temple of the guard.
+
+"Don't move, or I'll fill you full of holes," the convict warned.
+
+Scanlan did not move, not until the man in the cell gave the word. Then he
+obeyed orders to the letter. His right hand found the bunch of keys,
+fitted the correct one to the door, and unlocked it according to
+instructions. Not until he was relieved of his weapon did Blackwell
+release him. The jailer was backed into the cell, gagged with a piece of
+torn bedding, and left locked up as securely as the other had been a few
+minutes earlier.
+
+The convict made his way downstairs, opened the outer door with the bunch
+of keys he had taken from Scanlan, locked it behind him, and slipped into
+the first alley that offered refuge. By way of the Mexican quarters he
+reached the suburbs and open country. Two hours later he stole a horse
+from an irrigated ranch near town. Within twenty-four hours he had reached
+the Soapy Stone horse ranch and safety.
+
+After this the plans for the raid on the Texas, Arizona & Pacific Flyer
+moved swiftly to a head. Soapy Stone and Sam dropped into Saguache
+inconspicuously one evening. Next day Stone rode down to Tin Cup to look
+over the ground. Maloney telephoned their movements to the Circle C and to
+the Hashknife. This brought to Saguache Luck Cullison, Curly Flandrau, and
+Slats Davis. Bucky O'Connor had been called to Douglas on important
+business and could not lend his help.
+
+Curly met Sam in front of Chalkeye's Place. They did the town together in
+a mild fashion and Flandrau proposed that they save money by taking a
+common room. To this young Cullison agreed.
+
+Luck, Curly and Dick Maloney had already ridden over the country
+surrounding the scene of the projected hold-up. They had decided that the
+robbery would probably take place at the depot, so that the outlaws could
+get the agent to stop the Flyer without arousing suspicion. In a pocket of
+the hills back of the station a camp had been selected, its site well back
+from any trail and so situated that from it one could command a view of
+Tin Cup.
+
+The owner of the Circle C selected three of his closemouthed
+riders--Sweeney, Jake and Buck were the ones he chose--to hold the camp
+with him until after the robbery. The only signal they needed was the
+stopping of the Flyer at Tin Cup. Then they would come pounding down from
+the hills in time to catch the robbers before they had got through with
+their work. Maloney or Curly would be on the train to take a hand in the
+battle. Caught by surprise, Soapy's gang would surely be trapped.
+
+So they planned it, but it happened that Soapy Stone had made his
+arrangements differently.
+
+Luck and his riders took their blankets and their traps down to Tin Cup
+according to agreement, while Davis, Maloney and Flandrau looked after the
+Saguache end of the business. All of them were very friendly with Sam. The
+boy, younger than any of them, was flattered that three of the best known
+riders in the territory should make so much of him. Moreover, Stone had
+given him instructions to mix with Curly's crowd as much as he could. He
+had given as a reason that it would divert suspicion, but what he really
+wanted was to throw the blame of the hold-up on these friends after Sam
+was found dead on the scene.
+
+Young Cullison had stopped drinking, but he could not keep his nerves from
+jumping. His companions pretended not to notice how worried he was, but
+they watched him so closely that he was never out of the sight of at least
+one of them. Soapy had decreed the boy's death by treachery, but his
+friends were determined to save him and to end forever the reign of Stone
+as a bad man.
+
+It was one day when the four young cowpunchers were sitting together in
+Curly's room playing poker that a special delivery letter came to Sam. The
+others, to cover their excitement, started an argument as to whether five
+aces (they were playing with the joker) beat a straight flush. Presently
+Sam spoke, as indifferently as he could.
+
+"Got the offer of a job down the line. Think I'll run down to-night far as
+Casa Grande and see what's doing."
+
+"If they need any extra riders here's some more out of a job," Dick told
+him.
+
+"Heard to-day of a freighter that wants a mule-skinner. I'm going to see
+him to-morrow," Slats chipped in.
+
+"Darn this looking for a job anyhow. It's tur'ble slow work," Curly
+followed up, yawning. "Well, here's hoping you land yours, Sam."
+
+This was about two o'clock in the afternoon. The game dragged on for a
+while, but nobody took any interest in it. Sam had to get ready for the
+work of the night, and the rest were anxious to get out and give him a
+chance. So presently Dick threw down his cards.
+
+"I've had enough poker for one session. Me, I'm going to drift out and see
+what's moving in town."
+
+"Think I'll snooze for a while," Sam said, stretching sleepily.
+
+The others trooped out and left him alone. From the room rented by Davis
+the three watched to see that Sam did not leave without being observed. He
+did not appear, and about six o'clock Curly went back to his room.
+
+"Time to grub," he sang out.
+
+"That's right," Sam agreed.
+
+They went to the New Orleans Hash House, and presently Davis and Maloney
+also arrived. The party ordered a good dinner and took plenty of time to
+eat it. Sam was obviously nervous, but eager to cover his uneasiness under
+a show of good spirits.
+
+Curly finished eating just as Sam's second cup of coffee came. Flandrau,
+who had purposely chosen a seat in the corner where he was hemmed in by
+the chairs of the others, began to feel in his vest pockets.
+
+"Darned if I've got a cigar. Sam, you're young and nimble. Go buy me one
+at the counter."
+
+"Sure." Cullison was away on the instant.
+
+Curly's hand came out of his pocket. In it was a paper. Quickly he shook
+the contents of the paper into the steaming cup of coffee and stirred the
+liquid with a spoon.
+
+Sam brought back the cigar and drank his coffee. Without any unnecessary
+delay they returned to his room. Before the party had climbed the stairs
+the boy was getting drowsy.
+
+"Dunno what's the matter with me. I'm feeling awful sleepy," he said,
+sitting on the bed.
+
+"Why don't you take a snooze? You've got lots of time before the train
+goes."
+
+"No, I don't reckon I better."
+
+He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and slumped down. His lids wavered, shut,
+jerked open again, and closed slowly.
+
+"Wake me, Curly--time for train." And with that he was sound asleep.
+
+They took off his boots and settled him comfortably. In his pocket they
+found a black mask big enough to cover his whole face. The registered
+letter could not be found and they decided he must have destroyed it.
+
+The sight of the mask had given Curly an idea. He was of about the same
+build as Sam. Why not go in his place? It would be worth doing just to
+catch sight of Soapy's face when he took the mask off after the robbers
+had been captured.
+
+"What's the use?" Davis protested. "It's an unnecessary risk. They might
+shoot you in place of Sam."
+
+"I'll look out for myself. Don't worry about that. Before the time for
+getting rid of Sam comes Mr. Soapy and his bunch will be prisoners."
+
+They argued it out, but Curly was set and could not be moved. He dressed
+in young Cullison's clothes and with Maloney took the express at 9:57.
+Davis remained to guard Sam.
+
+Curly's watch showed 10:17 when the wheels began to grind from the setting
+of the air brakes. He was in the last sleeper, Dick in the day coach near
+the front. They had agreed that Dick was to drop off as soon as the train
+slowed down enough to make it safe, whereas Curly would go on and play
+Sam's part until the proper time.
+
+The train almost slid to a halt from the pressure of the hard-jammed
+brakes. A volley of shots rang out. Curly slipped the mask over his face
+and rose with a revolver in each hand. He had been sitting at the end of
+the car, so that nobody noticed him until his voice rang out with a crisp
+order.
+
+"Hands up! Don't anybody move!"
+
+An earthquake shock could not have alarmed the passengers more. The color
+was washed completely from the faces of most of them.
+
+"Reach for the roof. Come, punch a hole in the sky!" To do it thoroughly,
+Curly flung a couple of shots through the ceiling. That was enough. Hands
+went up without any argument, most of them quivering as from an Arkansas
+chill.
+
+Presently Cranston herded the passengers in from the forward coaches. With
+them were most of the train crew. The front door of the car was locked so
+that they could not easily get out.
+
+"We're cutting off the express car and going forward to 'Dobe Wells with
+it. There we can blow open the safe uninterrupted," Bad Bill explained.
+"You ride herd on the passengers here from the outside till you hear two
+shots, then hump yourself forward and hop on the express car."
+
+Fine! Curly was to stand out there in the moonlight and let anybody in the
+car that had the nerve pepper away at him. If they did not attend to the
+job of riddling him, his false friends would do it while he was running
+forward to get aboard. Nothing could have been simpler--if he had not
+happened to have had inside information of their intent.
+
+He had to think quickly, for the plans of him and his friends had been
+deranged. They had reckoned on the express car being rifled on the spot.
+This would have given Cullison time to reach the scene of action. Mow they
+would be too late. Maloney, lying snugly in the bear grass beside the
+track, would not be informed as to the arrangement. Unless Curly could
+stop it, the hold-up would go through according to the program of Soapy
+and not of his enemies.
+
+The decision of Flamdrau was instantaneous. He slid down beside the track
+into the long grass. Whipping up one of his guns, he fired. As if in
+answer to the first shot his revolver cracked twice. Simultaneously, he
+let out a cry of pain, wriggled back for a dozen yards through the grass,
+and crossed the track in the darkness. As he crouched down close to the
+wheels of the sleeper someone came running back on the other side.
+
+"What's up, Sam? You hit?" he could hear Blackwell whisper.
+
+No answer came. The paroled convict was standing close to the car for fear
+of being hit himself and he dared not move forward into the grass to
+investigate.
+
+"Sam," he called again; then, "He's sure got his."
+
+That was all Curly wanted to know. Softly he padded forward, keeping as
+low as he could till he reached the empty sleepers. A brakeman was just
+uncoupling the express car when Curly dived underneath and nestled close
+to the trucks.
+
+From where he lay he could almost have reached out and touched Soapy
+standing by the car.
+
+"What about the kid?" Stone asked Blackwell as the latter came up.
+
+"They got him. Didn't you hear him yelp?"
+
+"Yes, but did they put him out of business? See his body?"
+
+Blackwell had no intention of going back into the fire zone and making
+sure. For his part he was satisfied. So he lied.
+
+"Yep. Blew the top of his head off."
+
+"Good," Soapy nodded. "That's a receipt in full for Mr. Luck Cullison."
+
+The wheels began to move. Soon they were hitting only the high spots.
+Curly guessed they must be doing close to sixty miles an hour. Down where
+he was the dust was flying so thickly he could scarce breathe, as it
+usually does on an Arizona track in the middle of summer.
+
+Before many minutes the engine began to slow down. The wheels had hardly
+stopped moving when Curly crept out, plowed through the sand, up the
+rubble of a little hill, and into a draw where a bunch of scrub oaks
+offered cover.
+
+A voice from in front called to him. Just then the moon appeared from
+behind drifting clouds.
+
+"Oh, it's you, Sam. Everything all right?"
+
+"Right as the wheat. We're blowing open the safe now," Flandrau answered.
+
+Moving closer, he saw that his questioner was the man in charge of the
+horses. Though he knew the voice, he could not put a name to its owner.
+But this was not the point that first occupied his mind. _There were only
+four horses for five riders._ Curly knew now that he had not been
+mistaken. Soapy had expected one of his allies to stay on the field of
+battle, had prepared for it from the beginning. The knowledge of this
+froze any remorse the young _vaquero_ might have felt.
+
+He pushed his revolver against the teeth of the horse wrangler.
+
+"Don't move, you bandy-legged maverick, or I'll fill your hide full of
+holes. And if you want to keep on living padlock that mouth of yours."
+
+In spite of his surprise the man caught the point at once. He turned over
+his weapons without a word.
+
+Curly unwound a rope from one of the saddles and dropped a loop round the
+neck of his prisoner. The two men mounted and rode out of the draw, the
+outlaw leading the other two horses. As soon as they reached the bluff
+above Flandrau outlined the next step in the program.
+
+"We'll stay here in the _tornilla_ and see what happens, my friend. Unless
+you've a fancy to get lead poisoning keep still."
+
+"Who in Mexico are you?" the captured man asked.
+
+"It's your showdown. Skin off that mask."
+
+The man hesitated. His own revolver moved a few inches toward his head.
+Hastily he took off the mask. The moon shone on the face of the man called
+Dutch. Flandrau laughed. Last time they had met Curly had a rope around
+his neck. Now the situation was reversed.
+
+An explosion below told them that the robbers had blown open the safe.
+Presently Soapy's voice came faintly to them.
+
+"Bring up the horses."
+
+He called again, and a third time. The dwarfed figures of the outlaws
+stood out clear in the moonlight. One of them ran up the track toward the
+draw. He disappeared into the scrub oaks, from whence his alarmed voice
+came in a minute.
+
+"Dutch! Oh, Dutch!"
+
+The revolver rim pressed a little harder against the bridge of the horse
+wrangler's nose.
+
+"He ain't here," Blackwell called back to his accomplices.
+
+That brought Stone on the run. "You condemned idiot, he _must_ be there.
+Ain't he had two hours to get here since he left Tin Cup?"
+
+They shouted themselves hoarse. They wandered up and down in a vain
+search. All the time Curly and his prisoner sat in the brush and scarcely
+batted an eye.
+
+At last Soapy gave up the hunt. The engine and the express car were sent
+back to join the rest of the train and as soon as they were out of sight
+the robbers set out across country toward the Flatiron ranch.
+
+Curly guessed their intentions. They would rustle horses there and head
+for the border. It was the only chance still left them.
+
+After they had gone Curly and his prisoner returned to the road and set
+out toward Tin Cup. About a mile and a half up the line they met Cullison
+and his riders on the way down. Maloney was with them. He had been picked
+up at the station.
+
+Dick gave a shout of joy when he heard Flandrau's voice.
+
+"Oh, you Curly! I've been scared stiff for fear they'd got you."
+
+Luck caught the boy's hand and wrung it hard. "You plucky young idiot,
+you've got sand in your craw. What the deuce did you do it for?"
+
+They held a conference while the Circle C riders handcuffed Dutch and tied
+him to a horse. Soon the posse was off again, having left the prisoner in
+charge of one of the men. They swung round in a wide half circle, not
+wishing to startle their game until the proper time. The horses pounded up
+hills, slid into washes, and plowed through sand on a Spanish trot,
+sometimes in the moonlight, more often in darkness. The going was rough,
+but they could not afford to slacken speed.
+
+When they reached the edge of the mesa that looked down on the Flatiron
+the moon was out and the valley was swimming in light. They followed the
+dip of a road that led down to the corral. Passing the fenced lane leading
+to the stable, they tied their ponies inside and took the places assigned
+to them by Cullison.
+
+They had not long to wait. In less than half an hour three shadowy figures
+slipped round the edge of the corral and up the lane. Each of them carried
+a rifle in addition to his hip guns.
+
+They slid into the open end of the stable. Cullison's voice rang out
+coldly.
+
+"Drop your guns!"
+
+A startled oath, a shot, and before one could have lifted a hand that
+silent moonlit valley of peace had become a battlefield.
+
+The outlaws fell back from the stable, weapons smoking furiously.
+Blackwell broke into a run, never looking behind him, but Soapy and Bad
+Bill gave back foot by foot fighting every step of the way.
+
+Dick and Curly rose from behind the rocks where they had been placed and
+closed the trap on Blackwell. The paroled convict let out one yell.
+
+"I give up. Goddlemighty, don't shoot!"
+
+His rifle he had already thrown away. With his arms reaching above him,
+his terror-stricken eyes popping from his head, he was a picture of the
+most frightened "bad man" who had ever done business in Arizona.
+
+Half way down the lane Cranston was hit. He sank to his knees, and from
+there lopped over sideways to his left elbow. In the darkness his voice
+could be heard, for the firing had momentarily ceased.
+
+"They've got me, Soapy. Run for it. I'll hold 'em back."
+
+"Hit bad, Bill?"
+
+"I'm all in. _Vamos!_"
+
+Stone turned to run, and for the first time saw that his retreat was cut
+off. As fast as he could pump the lever his rifle began working again.
+
+The firing this time did not last more than five seconds. When the smoke
+cleared it was all over. Soapy lay on his back, shot through and through.
+Blackwell had taken advantage of the diversion to crawl through the
+strands of barbed wire and to disappear in the chaparral. Bill had rolled
+over on his face.
+
+Curly crept through the fence after the escaping man, but in that heavy
+undergrowth he knew it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. After
+a time he gave it up and returned to the field of battle.
+
+Dick was bending over Stone. He looked up at the approach of his friend
+and said just one word.
+
+"Dead."
+
+Cullison had torn open Cranston's shirt and was examining his wounds.
+
+"No use, Luck. I've got a-plenty. You sure fooled us thorough. Was it Sam
+gave us away?"
+
+"No, Bill. Curly overheard Soapy and Blackwell at Chalkeye's Place. Sam
+stood pat, though you were planning to murder him."
+
+"I wasn't in on that, Luck--didn't know a thing about it till after the
+boy was shot. I wouldn't a-stood for it."
+
+"He wasn't shot. Curly saved him. He had to give you away to do it."
+
+"Good enough. Serves Soapy right for double crossing Sam. Take care of
+that kid, Luck. He's all right yet." His eye fell on Flandrau. "You're a
+game sport, son. You beat us all. No hard feelings."
+
+"Sorry it had to be this way, Bill."
+
+The dying man was already gray to the lips, but his nerve did not falter.
+"It had to come some time. And it was Luck ought to have done it too." He
+waved aside Sweeney, who was holding a flask to his lips. "What's the use?
+I've got mine."
+
+"Shall we take him to the house?" Maloney asked.
+
+"No. I'll die in the open. Say, there's something else, boys. Curly has
+been accused of that Bar Double M horse rustling back in the early summer.
+I did that job. He was not one of us. You hear, boys. Curly was not in
+it."
+
+A quarter of an hour later he died. He had lied to save from the
+penitentiary the lad who had brought about his death. Curly knew why he
+had done it--because he felt himself to blame for the affair. Maybe Bad
+Bill had been a desperado, a miscreant according to the usual standard,
+but when it came to dying he knew how to go better than many a respectable
+citizen. Curly stole off into the darkness so that the boys would not see
+him play the baby.
+
+By this time the men from the Flatiron were appearing, armed with such
+weapons as they could hastily gather. The situation was explained to them.
+Neighboring ranches were called up by telephone and a systematic hunt
+started to capture Blackwell.
+
+Luck left his three riders to help in the man hunt, but he returned with
+Curly and Maloney to Saguache. On the pommel of his saddle was a sack. It
+contained the loot from the express car of the Flyer. Two lives already
+had been sacrificed to get it, and the sum total taken amounted only to
+one hundred ninety-four dollars and sixteen cents.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE PRODIGAL SON
+
+
+They found the prodigal son with his sister and Laura London at the Del
+Mar. Repentance was writ large all over his face and manner. From Davis
+and from the girls he had heard the story of how Soapy Stone had intended
+to destroy him. His scheme of life had been broken into pieces and he was
+a badly shaken young scamp.
+
+When Luck and Curly came into the room he jumped up, very white about the
+lips.
+
+"Father!"
+
+"My boy!"
+
+Cullison had him by the hand, one arm around the shaking shoulders.
+
+"What----what----?"
+
+Sam's question broke down, but his father guessed it.
+
+"Soapy and Bad Bill were killed, Dutch is a prisoner, and Blackwell
+escaped. All Spring Valley is out after him."
+
+The boy was aghast. "My God!"
+
+"Best thing for all of us. Soapy meant to murder you. If it hadn't been
+for Curly----"
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"No question about it. He brought no horse for you to ride away on. Bill
+admitted it, though he didn't know what was planned. Curly heard Soapy ask
+Blackwell whether he had seen your body."
+
+The boy shuddered and drew a long sobbing, breath. "I've been a fool,
+Father--and worse."
+
+"Forget it, son. We'll wipe the slate clean. I've been to blame too."
+
+It was no place for outsiders. Curly beat a retreat into the next room.
+The young women followed him. Both of them were frankly weeping. Arms
+twined about each other's waists, they disappeared into an adjoining
+bedroom.
+
+"Don't go," Kate called to him over her shoulder.
+
+Curly sat down and waited. Presently Kate came back alone. Her shining
+eyes met his.
+
+"I never was so happy in all my life before. Tell me what
+happened--everything please."
+
+As much as was good for her to know Curly told. Without saying a word she
+listened till he was through. Then she asked a question.
+
+"Won't Dutch tell about Sam being in it?"
+
+"Don't matter if he does. Evidence of an accomplice not enough to convict.
+Soapy overshot himself. I'm here to testify that Sam and he quarrelled
+before Sam left. Besides, Dutch won't talk. I drilled it into him thorough
+that he'd better take his medicine without bringing Sam in."
+
+She sat for a long time looking out of the window without moving. She did
+not make the least sound, but the young man knew she was crying softly to
+herself. At last she spoke in a low sweet voice.
+
+"What can we do for you? First you save Father and then Sam. You risked
+everything for my brother--to win him back to us, to save his life and now
+his reputation. If you had been killed people would always have believed
+you were one of the gang."
+
+"Sho! That's nonsense, Miss Kate." He twisted his hat in his hand
+uneasily. "Honest, I enjoyed every bit of it. And a fellow has to pay his
+debts."
+
+"Was that why you did it?" she asked softly.
+
+"Yes. I had to make good. I had to show your father and you that I had not
+thrown away all your kindness. So I quit travelling that downhill road on
+which I had got started."
+
+"I'm glad--I'm so glad." She whispered it so low he could hardly hear.
+
+"There was one way to prove myself. That was to stand between Sam and
+trouble. So I butted in and spoiled Soapy's game."
+
+"I wish I could tell you how fine Father thinks it was of you. He doesn't
+speak of it much, but I know."
+
+"Nothing to what I did--nothing at all." A wave of embarrassment had crept
+to the roots of his curly hair. "Just because a fellow--Oh, shucks!"
+
+"That's all very well for you to say, but you can't help us thinking what
+we please."
+
+"But that ain't right. I don't want you thinking things that ain't so
+because----"
+
+"Yes? Because----?"
+
+She lifted her eyes and met his. Then she knew it had to come out, that
+the feeling banked in him would overflow in words.
+
+"Because you're the girl I love."
+
+He had not intended to say it now, lest he might seem to be urging his
+services as a claim upon her. But the words had slipped out in spite of
+him.
+
+She held out her two hands to him with a little gesture of surrender. The
+light of love was in her starry eyes.
+
+And then----
+
+She was in his arms, and the kisses he had dreamed about were on his
+lips.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+CUTTING TRAIL
+
+
+Kate Cullison had disappeared, had gone out riding one morning and at
+nightfall had not returned. As the hours passed, anxiety at the Circle C
+became greater.
+
+"Mebbe she got lost," Bob suggested.
+
+Her father scouted this as absurd. "Lost nothing. You couldn't lose her
+within forty miles of the ranch. She knows this country like a cow does
+the range. And say she was lost--all she would have to do would be to give
+that pinto his head and he'd hit a bee line for home. No, nor she ain't
+had an accident either, unless it included the pony too."
+
+"You don't reckon a cougar----," began Sweeney, and stopped.
+
+Luck looked at his bandy-legged old rider with eyes in which little cold
+devils sparkled. "A human cougar, I'll bet. This time I'll take his hide
+off inch by inch while he's still living."
+
+"You thinking of Fendrick?" asked Sam.
+
+"You've said it."
+
+Sweeney considered, rasping his stubbly chin. "I don't reckon Cass would
+do Miss Kate a meanness. He's a white man, say the worst of him. But it
+might be Blackwell. When last seen he was heading into the hills. If he
+met her----"
+
+A spasm of pain shot across Luck's face. "My God! That would be awful."
+
+"By Gum, there he is now, Luck." Sweeney's finger pointed to an advancing
+rider.
+
+Cullison swung as on a pivot in time to see someone drop into the dip in
+the road, just beyond the corral. "Who--Blackwell?"
+
+"No. Cass."
+
+Fendrick reappeared presently and turned in at the lane. Cullison,
+standing on the porch at the head of the steps looked like a man who was
+passing through the inferno. But he looked too a personified day of
+judgment untempered by mercy. His eyes bored like steel gimlets into those
+of his enemy.
+
+The sheepman spoke, looking straight at his foe. "I've just heard the
+news. I was down at Yesler's ranch when you 'phoned asking if they had
+seen anything of Miss Cullison. I came up to ask you one question. When
+was she seen last?"
+
+"About ten o'clock this morning. Why?"
+
+"I saw her about noon. She was on Mesa Verde, headed for Blue Canyon
+looked like."
+
+"Close enough to speak to her?" Sam asked.
+
+"Yes. We passed the time of day."
+
+"And then?" Luck cut back into the conversation with a voice like a file.
+
+"She went on toward the gulch and I kept on to the ranch. The last I saw
+of her she was going straight on."
+
+"And you haven't seen her since?"
+
+The manner of the questioner startled Fendrick. "God, man, you don't think
+I'm in this, do you?"
+
+"If you are you'd better blow your brains out before I learn it. And if
+you're trying to lead me on a false scent----" Luck stopped. Words failed
+him, but his iron jaw clamped like a vice.
+
+Fendrick spoke quietly. "I'm willing. In the meantime we'd better travel
+over toward Mesa Verde, so as to be ready to start at daybreak."
+
+Cullison's gaze had never left him. It observed, weighed, appraised. "Good
+enough. We'll start."
+
+He left Sweeney to answer the telephone while he was away. All of his
+other riders were already out combing the hills under supervision of
+Curly. Luck had waited with Sam only to get some definite information
+before starting. Now he had his lead. Fendrick was either telling the
+truth or he was lying with some sinister purpose in view. The cattleman
+meant to know which.
+
+Morning breaks early in Arizona. By the time they had come to the spot
+where the sheepman said he had met Kate gray streaks were already
+lightening the sky. The party moved forward slowly toward the canyon,
+spreading out so as to cover as much ground as possible. Before they
+reached its mouth the darkness had lifted enough to show the track of a
+horse in the sand.
+
+They pushed up the gulch as rapidly as they could. The ashes of a camp
+fire halted them a few minutes later. Scattered about lay the feathers and
+dismembered bones of some birds.
+
+Cass stooped and picked up some of the feathers. "Quails, I reckon. Miss
+Cullison had three tied to her saddle horn when I met her."
+
+"Why did she come up here to cook them?" Sam asked.
+
+Luck was already off his horse, quartering over the ground to read what it
+might tell him.
+
+"She wasn't alone. There was a man with her. See these tracks."
+
+It was Fendrick who made the next discovery. He had followed a draw for a
+short distance and climbed to a little mesa above. Presently he called to
+Cullison.
+
+Father and son hurried toward him. The sheep-owner was standing at the
+edge of a prospect hole pointing down with his finger.
+
+"Someone has been in that pit recently, and he's been there several
+days."
+
+"Then how did he get out?" Sam asked.
+
+Fendrick knelt on the edge of the pit and showed him where a rope had been
+dragged so heavily that it had cut deeply into the clay.
+
+"Someone pulled him out."
+
+"What's it mean anyhow? Kate wasn't in that hole, was she?"
+
+Cass shook his head. "This is my guess. Someone was coming along here in
+the dark and fell in. Suppose Miss Cullison heard him calling as she came
+up the gulch. What would she do?"
+
+"Come up and help the fellow out."
+
+"Sure she would. And if he was hungry--as he likely was--she would cook
+her quail for him."
+
+"And then? Why didn't she come home?"
+
+Luck turned a gray agonized face on him. "Boy, don't you see? The man was
+Blackwell."
+
+"And if you'll put yourself in Blackwell's place you'll see that he
+couldn't let her go home to tell where she had seen him," Fendrick
+explained.
+
+"Then where is she? What did he do with her?"
+
+There came a moment's heavy silence. The pale face of the boy turned from
+the sheepman to his father. "You don't think that--that----"
+
+"No, I don't," Cass answered. "But let's look this thing squarely in the
+face. There were three things he could do with her. First, he might leave
+her in the pit. He didn't do that because he hadn't the nerve. She might
+be found soon and set the hunters on his track. Or she might die in that
+hole and he be captured later with her pinto. I know him. He always plays
+a waiting game when he can. Takes no chances if he can help it."
+
+"You think he took her with him then," Luck said.
+
+"Yes. There's a third possibility. He may have shot her when he got a good
+chance, but I don't think so. He would keep her for a hostage as long as
+he could."
+
+"That's the way I figure it," agreed Cullison. "He daren't hurt her, for
+he would know Arizona would hunt him down like a wolf if he did."
+
+"Then where's he taking her?" Sam asked.
+
+"Somewhere into the hills. He knows every pocket of them. His idea will be
+to slip down and cut across the line into Sonora. He's a rotten bad lot,
+but he won't do her any harm unless he's pushed to the wall. The fear of
+Luck Cullison is in his heart."
+
+"That's about it," nodded Luck. "He's somewhere in these hills unless he's
+broken through. Bolt 'phoned me that one of his posse came on the ashes of
+a camp fire still warm. They're closing in on him. He's got to get food or
+starve, unless he can break through."
+
+"There's a chance he'll make for one of my sheep camps to lay in a supply.
+Wouldn't it be a good idea to keep a man stationed at each one of them?"
+
+"You're talking sense," Cullison approved. "Sam, ride back and get in
+touch with Curly. Tell him to do that. And rouse the whole country over
+the wire. We'll run him down and feed him to the coyotes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+A GOOD SAMARITAN
+
+
+Fendrick had told the exact truth. After leaving him Kate had ridden
+forward to the canyon and entered it. She did not mean to go much farther,
+but she took her time. More than once she slipped from under a fold of her
+waist a letter and reread sentences of it. Whenever she did this her eyes
+smiled. For it was a love letter from Curly, the first she had ever had.
+It had been lying on the inner edge of the threshold of her bedroom door
+that morning when she got up, and she knew that her lover had risen early
+to put it there unnoticed.
+
+They were to be married soon. Curly had wished to wait till after his
+trial, but she had overruled him. Both her father and Sam had sided with
+her, for she had made them both see what an advantage it would be with a
+jury for Flandrau to have his bride sitting beside him in the courtroom.
+
+Faintly there came to her a wind-swept sound. She pulled up and waited,
+but no repetition of it reached her ears. But before her pony had moved a
+dozen steps she stopped him again. This time she was almost sure of a far
+cry, and after it the bark of a revolver.
+
+With the touch of a rein she guided her horse toward the sound. It might
+mean nothing. On the other hand it might be a call for help. Her shout
+brought an answer which guided her to the edge of a prospect hole. In the
+darkness she made out an indistinct figure.
+
+"Water," a husky voice demanded.
+
+She got her canteen from the saddle and dropped it to him. The man glued
+his lips to the mouth as if he could never get enough.
+
+"For God's sake get me out of here," he pleaded piteously.
+
+"How long have you been there?"
+
+"Two days. I fell in at night whilst I was cutting acrost country."
+
+Kate fastened her rope to the horn of the saddle, tightened the cinch
+carefully, and dropped the other end to him. She swung to the back of the
+horse and braced herself by resting her full weight on the farther
+stirrup.
+
+"Now," she told him.
+
+The imprisoned man tried to pull himself up, bracing his feet against the
+rough projections of the rock wall to help him. But he could not manage
+the climb. At last he gave it up with an oath.
+
+"We'll try another way," the girl told him cheerfully.
+
+At spaces about a foot distant she tied knots in the rope for about the
+first six feet.
+
+"This time you'll make it," she promised. "You can get up part way as you
+did before. Then I'll start my horse forward. Keep braced out from the
+wall so as not to get crushed."
+
+He growled an assent. Once more she got into the saddle and gave the word.
+He dragged himself up a few feet and then the cowpony moved forward. The
+legs of the man doubled up under the strain and he was crushed against the
+wall just as he reached the top. However, he managed to hang on and was
+dragged over the edge with one cheek scratched and bleeding.
+
+"Might a-known you'd hurt me if you moved so fast," he complained, nursing
+his wounded face in such a way as to hide it.
+
+"I'm sorry. I did my best to go carefully," the girl answered, stepping
+forward.
+
+His hand shot forward and caught her wrist Her startled eyes flashed to
+his face. The man was the convict Blackwell.
+
+"Got anything to eat with you. I'm starving," he snapped.
+
+"Yes. I shot some quail Let go my hand."
+
+He laughed evilly, without mirth. "Don't try any of your sassy ways on me.
+By God, I'm a wolf on the howl."
+
+In spite of her supple slenderness there was strength in her small wrists.
+She fought and twisted till she was worn out in her efforts to free
+herself. Panting, she faced him.
+
+"Let me go, I tell you."
+
+For answer his open hand struck her mouth. "Not till you learn your boss.
+Before I'm through with you a squaw won't be half so tame as you."
+
+He dragged her to the horse, took from its case the rifle that hung by the
+saddle, and flung her from him roughly. Then he pulled himself to the
+saddle.
+
+"March ahead of me," he ordered.
+
+As soon as they had reached the bed of the canyon lie called a halt and
+bade her light a fire and cook him the quail. She gathered ironwood and
+catclaw while he watched her vigilantly. Together they roasted the birds
+by holding them over the fire with sharpened sticks thrust through the
+wings. He devoured them with the voracity of a wild beast.
+
+Hitherto his mind had been busy with the immediate present, but now his
+furtive shifting gaze rested on her more thoughtfully. It was as a factor
+of his safety that he considered her. Gratitude was a feeling not within
+his scope. The man's mind worked just as Fendrick had surmised. He would
+not let her go back to the ranch with the news that he was hidden in the
+hills so close at hand. He dared not leave her in the prospect hole. He
+was not yet ready to do murder for fear of punishment. That was a
+possibility to be considered only if he should be hard pressed. The only
+alternative left him was to take her to the border as a companion of his
+fugitive doublings.
+
+"We'll be going now," he announced, after he had eaten.
+
+"Going where? Don't you see I'll be a drag to you? Take my horse and go.
+You'll get along faster."
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+She opened her lips to answer, but there was something in his
+face--something at once so cruel and deadly and wolfish--that made the
+words die on her lips. For the first time it came to her that if he did
+not take her with him he would kill her to insure his own safety. None of
+the arguments that would have availed with another man were of any weight
+here. Her sex, her youth, the service she had done him--these would not
+count a straw. He was lost to all the instincts of honor that govern even
+hard desperate men of his class.
+
+They struck into the mountains, following a cattle trail that wound upward
+with devious twists. The man rode, and the girl walked in front with the
+elastic lightness, the unconscious flexuous grace of poise given her body
+by an outdoor life. After a time they left the gulch. Steadily they
+traveled, up dark arroyos bristling with mesquite, across little valleys
+leading into timbered stretches through which broken limbs and uprooted
+trees made progress almost impossible, following always untrodden ways
+that appalled with their lonely desolation.
+
+By dusk they were up in the headwaters of the creeks. The resilient
+muscles of the girl had lost their spring. She moved wearily, her feet
+dragging heavily so that sometimes she staggered when the ground was
+rough. Not once had the man offered her the horse. He meant to be fresh,
+ready for any emergency that might come. Moreover, it pleased his small
+soul to see the daughter of Luck Cullison fagged and exhausted but still
+answering the spur of his urge.
+
+The moon was up before they came upon a tent shining in the cold silvery
+light. Beside it was a sheetiron stove, a box, the ashes of a camp fire,
+and a side of bacon hanging from the limb of a stunted pine. Cautiously
+they stole forward.
+
+The camp was for the time deserted. No doubt its owner, a Mexican
+sheepherder in the employ of Fendrick and Dominguez, was out somewhere
+with his flock.
+
+Kate cooked a meal and the convict ate. The girl was too tired and anxious
+to care for food, but she made herself take a little. They packed the
+saddlebags with bacon, beans, coffee and flour. Blackwell tightened again
+the cinches and once more the two took the trail.
+
+They made camp in a pocket opening from a gulch far up in the hills. With
+her own _reata_ he fastened her hands behind her and tied the girl
+securely to the twisted trunk of a Joshua tree. To make sure of her he lay
+on the rope, both hands clinched to the rifle. In five minutes he was
+asleep, but it was long before Kate could escape from wakefulness. She was
+anxious, her nerves were jumpy, and the muscles of arms and shoulders were
+cramped. At last she fell into troubled catnaps.
+
+From one of these she awoke to see that the morning light was sifting
+through the darkness. Her bones and muscles ached from the constraint of
+the position in which the rope held them. She was shivering with the chill
+of an Arizona mountain night. Turning her body, the girl's eyes fell upon
+her captor. He was looking at her in the way that no decent man looks at a
+woman. Her impulse was to scream, to struggle to her feet and run. What
+did he mean? What was he going to do?
+
+But something warned her this would precipitate the danger. She called
+upon her courage and tried to still the fearful tumult in her heart.
+Somehow she succeeded. A scornful, confident pride flashed from her eyes
+into his. It told him that for his life he dared not lay a finger upon her
+in the way of harm. And he knew it was true, knew that if he gave way to
+his desire no hole under heaven would be deep enough to hide him from the
+vengeance of her friends.
+
+He got sullenly to his feet. "Come. We'll be going."
+
+Within the hour they saw some of his hunters. The two were sweeping around
+the lip of a mountain park nestling among the summits. A wisp of smoke
+rose from the basin below. Grouped about it were three men eating
+breakfast.
+
+"Don't make a sound," warned Blackwell.
+
+His rifle covered her. With all her soul she longed to cry for help. But
+she dared not take the risk. Even as the two on the edge of the bowl
+withdrew from sight one of the campers rose and sauntered to a little
+grove where the ponies were tethered. The distance was too far to make
+sure, but something in the gait made the girl sure that the man was Curly.
+Her hands went out to him in a piteous little gesture of appeal.
+
+She was right. It was Curly. He was thinking of her at that moment
+despairingly, but no bell of warning rang within to tell him she was so
+near and in such fearful need of him.
+
+Twice during the morning did the refugee attempt to slip down into the
+parched desert that stretched toward Sonora and safety. But the cordon set
+about him was drawn too close. Each time a loose-seated rider lounging in
+the saddle with a rifle in his hands drove them back. The second attempt
+was almost disastrous, for the convict was seen. The hum of a bullet
+whistled past his ears as he and his prisoner drew back into the chaparral
+and from thence won back to cover.
+
+Kate, drooping with fatigue, saw that fear rode Blackwell heavily. He was
+trapped and he knew that by the Arizona code his life was forfeit and
+would be exacted of him should he be taken. He had not the hardihood to
+game it out in silence, but whined complaints, promises and threats. He
+tried to curry favor with her, to work upon her pity, even while his
+furtive glances told her that he was wondering whether he would have a
+better chance if he sacrificed her life.
+
+From gulch to arroyo, from rock-cover to pine-clad hillside he was driven
+in his attempts to break the narrowing circle of grim hunters that hemmed
+him. And with each failure, with every passing hour, the terror in him
+mounted. He would have welcomed life imprisonment, would have sold the
+last vestige of manhood to save the worthless life that would soon be
+snuffed out unless he could evade his hunters till night and in the
+darkness break through the line.
+
+He knew now that it had been a fatal mistake to bring the girl with him.
+He might have evaded Bolt's posses, but now every man within fifty miles
+was on the lookout for him. His rage turned against Kate because of it.
+Yet even in those black outbursts he felt that he must cling to her as his
+only hope of saving himself. He had made another mistake in lighting a
+campfire during the morning. Any fool ought to have known that the smoke
+would draw his hunters as the smell of carrion does a buzzard.
+
+Now he made a third error. Doubling back over an open stretch of hillside,
+he was seen again and forced into the first pocket that opened. It proved
+to be a blind gulch, one offering no exit at the upper end but a stiff
+rock climb to a bluff above.
+
+He whipped off his coat and gave it to Kate.
+
+"Put it on. Quick."
+
+Surprised, she slipped it on.
+
+"Now ride back out and cut along the edge of the hill. You've got time to
+make it all right before they close in if you travel fast. Stop once--just
+once--and I'll drop you in your tracks. Now git!"
+
+She saw his object in a flash. Wearing his gray felt hat and his coat, the
+pursuers would mistake her for him. They would follow her--perhaps shoot
+her down. Anyhow, it would be a diversion to draw them from him. Meanwhile
+he would climb the cliff and slip away unnoticed.
+
+The danger of what she had to do stood out quite clearly, but as a chance
+to get away from him she welcomed it gladly. She swung the pony with a
+touch of the rein and set him instantly at the canter. It was rough going,
+but she took it almost blindly.
+
+From the lip of the gulch she swung abruptly to the right. Her horse
+stumbled and went down just as a bullet flew over her head. Before she was
+free of the stirrups strong hands pinned her shoulders to the ground. She
+heard a glad startled cry. The rough hands became immediately gentle. Then
+things grew black. The last she remembered was that the mountains were
+dancing up and down in an odd fashion.
+
+Her eyes opened to see Curly. She was in his arms and his face was broken
+with emotions of love and tenderness.
+
+"You're not hurt," he implored.
+
+"No."
+
+"He didn't--mistreat you?" His voice was trembling as he whispered it.
+
+"No--No."
+
+And at that she broke down. A deep sob shook her body--and another. She
+buried her head on his shoulder and wept.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Without losing an instant the convict set himself at the climb. His haste,
+the swift glances shot behind him, the appalling dread that made his
+nerves ragged, delayed his speed by dissipating the singleness of his
+energy. His face and hands were torn with catclaw, his knee bruised by a
+slip against a sharp jut of quartz.
+
+When he reached the top he was panting and shaken. Before he had moved a
+dozen steps a man came out of the brush scarce seventy-five yards away and
+called to him to surrender. He flung his rifle to place and fired twice.
+
+The man staggered and steadied himself. A shell had jammed and Blackwell
+could not throw it out. He turned to run as the other fired. But he was
+too late. He stumbled, tripped, and went down full length.
+
+The man that had shot him waited for him to rise. The convict did not
+move. Cautiously the wounded hunter came forward, his eyes never lifting
+from the inert sprawling figure. Even now he half expected him to spring
+up, life and energy in every tense muscle. Not till he stood over him,
+till he saw the carelessly flung limbs, the uncouth twist to the neck,
+could he believe that so slight a crook of the finger had sent swift death
+across the plateau.
+
+The wounded man felt suddenly sick. Leaning against a rock, he steadied
+himself till the nausea was past. Voices called to him from the plain
+below. He answered, and presently circled down into the gulch which led to
+the open.
+
+At the gulch mouth he came on a little group of people. One glance told
+him all he needed to know. Kate Cullison was crying in the arms of Curly
+Flandrau. Simultaneously a man galloped up, flung himself from his horse,
+and took the young woman from her lover.
+
+"My little girl," he cried in a voice that rang with love.
+
+Luck had found his ewe lamb that was lost.
+
+It was Curly who first saw the man approaching from the gulch. "Hello,
+Cass! Did you get him?"
+
+Fendrick nodded wearily.
+
+"Dead sure?"
+
+"Yep. He's up there." The sheepman's hand swept toward the bluff.
+
+"You're wounded."
+
+"Got me in the shoulder. Nothing serious, I judge."
+
+Cullison swung around. "Sure about that, Cass?" It was the first time for
+years that he had called the other by his first name except in irony.
+
+"Sure."
+
+"Let's have a look at the shoulder."
+
+After he had done what he could for it Luck spoke bluffly. "This dashed
+feud is off, Cass. You've wiped the slate clean. When you killed Blackwell
+you put me out of a hostile camp."
+
+"I'm glad--so glad. Now we'll all be friends, won't we?" Kate cried.
+
+Cass looked at her and at Curly, both of them radiant with happiness, and
+his heart ached for what he had missed. But he smiled none the less.
+
+"Suits me if it does you."
+
+He gave one hand to Luck and the other to his daughter.
+
+Curly laughed gaily. "Everybody satisfied, I reckon,"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+LOOSE THREADS
+
+
+Curly was right when he said that those who knew about Sam's share in the
+planning of the Tin Cup hold-up would keep their mouths closed. All of the
+men implicated in the robbery were dead except Dutch. Cullison used his
+influence to get the man a light sentence, for he knew that he was not a
+criminal at heart. In return Dutch went down the line without so much as
+breathing Sam's name.
+
+Luck saw to it that Curly got all the credit of frustrating the outlaws in
+their attempt on the Flyer and of capturing them afterward. In the story
+of the rescue of Kate he played up Flandrau's part in the pursuit at the
+expense of the other riders. For September was at hand and the young man
+needed all the prestige he could get. The district attorney had no choice
+but to go on with the case of the State versus Flandrau on a charge of
+rustling horses from the Bar Double M. But public sentiment was almost a
+unit in favor of the defendant.
+
+The evidence of the prosecution was not so strong as it had been. All of
+his accomplices were dead and one of the men implicated had given it out
+in his last moments that the young man was not a party to the crime. The
+man who had owned the feed corral had sold out and gone to Colorado. The
+hotel clerk would not swear positively that the prisoner was the man he
+had seen with the other rustlers.
+
+Curly had one important asset no jury could forget. It counted for a good
+deal that Alec Flandrau, Billy Mackenzie, and Luck Cullison were known to
+be backing him, but it was worth much more that his wife of a week sat
+beside him in the courtroom. Every time they looked at the prisoner the
+jurymen saw too her dusky gallant little head and slender figure. They
+remembered the terrible experience through which she had so recently
+passed. She had come through it to happiness. Every look and motion of the
+girl wife radiated love for the young scamp who had won her. And since
+they were tender-hearted old frontiersmen they did not intend to spoil her
+joy. Moreover, society could afford to take chances with this young fellow
+Flandrau. He had been wild no doubt, but he had shown since the real stuff
+that was in him. Long before they left the box each member of the jury
+knew that he was going to vote for acquittal.
+
+It took the jury only one ballot to find a verdict of not guilty. The
+judge did not attempt to stop the uproar of glad cheers that shook the
+building when the decision was read. He knew it was not the prisoner so
+much they were cheering as the brave girl who had sat so pluckily for
+three days beside the husband she had made a man.
+
+From the courtroom Curly walked out under the blue sky of Arizona a free
+man. But he knew that the best of his good fortune was that he did not go
+alone. For all the rest of their lives her firm little steps would move
+beside him to keep him true and steady. He could not go wrong now, for he
+was anchored to a responsibility that was a continual joy and wonder to
+him.
+
+The End
+
+
+
+
+"The Books You Like to Read at the Price You Like to Pay"
+
+There Are Two Sides to Everything--
+
+--including the wrapper which covers every Grosset & Dunlap book. When you
+feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully selected list
+of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by prominent writers of
+the day which is printed on the back of every Grosset & Dunlap book
+wrapper.
+
+You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from--books for
+every mood and every taste and every pocketbook.
+
+Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write to the
+publishers for a complete catalog.
+
+There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book for every mood and for every taste
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Crooked Trails and Straight, by
+William MacLeod Raine and D. C. Hutchison
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT ***
+
+***** This file should be named 26911.txt or 26911.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/9/1/26911/
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/26911.zip b/26911.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5b698c2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/26911.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5b0c7ba
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #26911 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26911)