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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78695 ***
+
+                              BLIND TRAILS
+
+                              W. C. Tuttle
+
+              Author of “Reputation,” “The Misdeal,” etc.
+
+
+“Peace River” Parker turned from unsaddling a sweat-marked gray horse
+and picked up his saddle. He was a tall, gaunt-looking cowpuncher. His
+bat-winged chaps were polished from much usage, his thin cotton shirt
+indefinite of color was topped by a black muffler and atop his head
+rode a high-crown sombrero.
+
+“Peace” Parker was not handsome by any manner of means. His hair was an
+unruly mop of almost roan color, his nose much larger than necessary and
+a mouth all out of proportion. But his eyes were a clear gray and set
+wide apart.
+
+Now he stood in the shade of the tall, pole corral, holding the saddle
+by one hand, while he squinted toward the Cross L ranch-house a hundred
+yards away. It was a low, rambling sort of a building, with a wide
+veranda running across the front. It had been originally a one-room
+affair, painted white, with blue trimmings. But, as each addition had
+been built, it seemed as though the taste in decorations had changed,
+and each addition had a color all its own.
+
+Behind and on the opposite side of the house grew several tall
+cottonwoods, while in the front yard there had been some attempt to grow
+a flower garden and some rose bushes, but the effort of water-bucket
+irrigation had been too much and the garden did not thrive.
+
+There was a black horse tied to a corner of the veranda; a racy-looking
+animal, surmounted by a silver-decorated, swell-forked saddle, which
+flashed in the sunlight, as the black moved impatiently.
+
+Peace Parker looked at this horse for a long time, but no hint of his
+thoughts was depicted on his face. He turned his head slowly and looked
+down at his saddle. It was as if he were trying to remember just what he
+was going to do with that saddle.
+
+A slight twitch of his head, which might have been a negative answer to
+one of his unspoken questions, and he went slowly toward the bunk-house,
+a long, one-room structure, facing the same way as the ranchhouse, but
+farther back toward the tall barn.
+
+As he stopped at the bunk-house door, a man came out of the kitchen,
+slammed the door and stood on the narrow step, looking around. He saw
+Peace Parker and greeted him with an upward jerk of his hand and arm
+as he strode down toward him.
+
+This man was “Cross L” Marshall, owner of the ranch. He was a smaller
+man than Parker; a typical old-time cattleman. He was slightly
+bow-legged and walked with elbows bent at his sides. An enormous hunk of
+tobacco deformed one side of his face and caused one of his mustaches to
+assume a belligerent angle. His lips were slightly compressed and his
+blue eyes seemed to reprove Peace Parker.
+
+“What’s achin’ yuh?” Peace smiled slightly at the older man.
+
+Marshall did not speak for several moments. He turned and squinted
+toward the house, spat explosively and scratched his shoulders against
+the bunk-house wall. Then he shifted his tobacco and squinted at Peace.
+
+“Achin’ me? Huh!”
+
+He jerked his thumb toward the house.
+
+“Whatcha think? More candy. Uh-huh. ---- it, he uses vas’leen on his
+hair!”
+
+“They tell me,” said Peace slowly, “that it’s good for the hair. Looks
+kinda slick and pretty.”
+
+“Yeah?” A shift of the tobacco made the mustache assume a more
+belligerent attitude.
+
+“Does, eh?”
+
+“You don’t hate vaseline, do yuh?” queried Peace.
+
+“No, but by ----!”
+
+Cross L Marshall glared at Peace and shook his head violently.
+
+“I don’t sabe you, Peace. Yo’re what Jim Horn used to call a en-ig-maw.
+Yeah, yuh are. Yo’re like some of the race horses them slickers brought
+here last Summer. One of ’em had a stifle, two ringbones and a broken
+nose.
+
+“Couldn’t run. ’Course they couldn’t run. How in ---- could that kind of
+a critter run, I ask yuh? Jim Horn said it was a en-ig-maw, whatever
+that is. I bet agin’ it and lost five hundred dollars and a span of work
+horses.”
+
+Peace Parker smiled softly.
+
+“But I ain’t got no ring-bones nor----”
+
+“Yes, yuh have,” interrupted Marshall, “Yours are inside yore head,
+where they don’t show open-like. Them is the worst kind t’ have.”
+
+Marshall spat thoughtfully and nodded his head.
+
+“As a cow-hand, yo’re first-class, Peace. Yeah, I’d go so far as to say
+that you sabe the cow business, but when it comes to anythin’ else, you
+qualify as a first-class ---- fool. What do yuh think of that?”
+
+Marshall squinted quizzically at Peace and waited for him to speak.
+
+“Maybe,” said Peace softly, “if I wasn’t a first-class ---- fool, I
+might be somethin’ better than a first-class cow-hand.”
+
+“Aw-w-w ----, I didn’t mean it that-away.”
+
+Marshall’s tone was contrite and he grasped Peace by the arm.
+
+“You make me so ---- mad, Peace! I say things that I don’t mean,
+don’tcha know it? Yo’re the best danged----”
+
+Marshall stopped and glared toward the porch.
+
+“Peace River Parker, I--I dunno.”
+
+Peace smiled at Marshall’s serious face.
+
+“What do yuh reckon I better do, Marshall?”
+
+“Do?”
+
+The mustaches bristled again.
+
+“By grab, if it was me, I’d go up there and--uh----”
+
+“No, yuh wouldn’t.”
+
+Peace shook his head.
+
+“Now let me tell yuh about me, Cross L. Jess is of age. She can do about
+as she pleases. If Frank Campion comes to see her, what right have I got
+to object?”
+
+Peace smiled softly and shook his head.
+
+“He ain’t comin’ to see me.”
+
+“My gosh, you two are engaged, ain’tcha?”
+
+“Ye-e-es, but we ain’t married, Cross L.”
+
+“All right, all right! None of my ---- business, eh? Ain’t got nothin’
+t’ say about who I git for a son-in-law, eh? This is gittin’ to be a
+fine country. Feller can’t have nothin’. When that Campion leaves, I’m
+goin’ t’ give Jess a little ---- of a good talk, y’betcha.”
+
+“You let her alone,” advised Peace coldly.
+
+“Thasso?” Marshall squinted closely at Peace.
+
+“Say, what in ----’s the matter with you? Don’tcha want her?”
+
+Peace stared at Marshall for a moment and then stooped over to unbuckle
+one of his spurs. It took several moments to remove the two spurs, which
+gave him time to evade the direct question.
+
+“That gray bronc bucked half-way to End-Gate Creek this mornin,’ Cross
+L. Dang near made me grab leather. Ain’t been shook up thataway for
+quite a while. Ought to sell him to Barney Edwards, I reckon. Barney is
+pickin’ up broncs for some of the Eastern rodeos, and that gray would
+make some of them contesters ride high and handsome, y’betcha.”
+
+“Uh-huh,” uninterestedly. “You do it. Didja hear anythin’ new in Tarp
+City?”
+
+Peace shook his head.
+
+“No-o-o. I kinda thought I’d hear from Gus Sinks, but there wasn’t no
+word. Feller from Sun Prairie said that the feed was pretty good agin.
+They had a good lot of rain up there, he said.
+
+“I told Gus to let me know if he got any kind of an offer for them
+sheep, but I don’t reckon there’s been any buyers through there lately.
+I’d sure like to get them off my hands.”
+
+Cross L Marshall grunted explosively and Peace turned. Frank Campion had
+vaulted the porch-rail and was preparing to mount the black horse. Jess
+Marshall, dressed all in white, leaned across the railing and talked to
+him.
+
+From his raiment, Frank Campion was either a range dandy or a “dude
+cowboy,” just out of college. He was dark complexioned, thin-faced
+and sported a tiny mustache. His hair was so sleek that it glistened
+in the sun like patent-leather and was of the latest approved cut.
+
+His clothes, patterned after the range fashion, were of the finest
+quality, but he mounted his horse with the ease and grace of a top-hand
+cowpuncher.
+
+Cross L Marshall was swearing softly to himself, as Campion galloped
+away toward the main road, and Peace River looked curiously at him.
+Jess had turned away from their sight.
+
+“What you got against Campion?” asked Peace.
+
+“Not a danged thing! I just hate the name, Peace. Once upon a time,
+I knocked ---- out of a Campion. It was down in Wyoming a long time
+ago. I reckon it was a dirty deal, but I was kinda young and wild in
+them days.
+
+“I know yuh won’t repeat it so I’ll tell yuh how it was. Me and Joe
+Campion was bunkies in them days. It was a lot easier to lift a bunch
+of cows than to work at forty a month; so we kinda helped ourselves.
+
+“We was around the town of Searchlight, if I remember right. Anyway, me
+and Joe got stuck on the same girl. We had a bunch of cows tucked away
+on a branch of Lost Cow river, waitin’ for the right time to drift ’em
+across the divide.
+
+“Then we proceeds to git stuck on this girl. I reckon we made love
+jist like we stole cows--kinda fast-like. If that girl had been twins,
+everythin’ would ’a’ been fine, but one girl ain’t enough for two
+gunpackin’ lovers. Anyway,” Marshall spat reflectively, “we settled it
+out of court and I hammered ---- out of Joe.”
+
+“Bein’ a pair of danged fools, I reckon we thought that settled which
+one was to get the girl. Anyway, Joe had a danged mean disposition and
+he goes to the sheriff and has a talk with him about me.
+
+“’Course I don’t know this until the sheriff asks me to rattle my hocks
+out of town. He says that I’m suspected of covetin’ my neighbor’s
+property and that I’d better high-tail it out while the gate is open.
+
+“Me and him kinda talks things over and I finds that this danged Campion
+is responsible. Joe decides to set the law on my trail. Then I asks the
+sheriff how he’d like to put the deadwood on a rustler and I finds him
+plumb willin’.”
+
+Marshall laughed shortly.
+
+“I was mad then and I’m mad yet. I told the sheriff where to find that
+bunch of cows, and if he watched long enough he’d find the man who put
+’em there. Then I went to Joe and told him I was foggin’ out that night,
+’cause the sheriff was onto me. Joe sure sympathized a heap with me and
+promised to split the cow money with me later on.
+
+“And that was the last time I ever heard of the dirty pup. I never heard
+what happened. He sure tried to frame me into the penitentiary and beat
+me out of the girl I had won with m’ bare hands.”
+
+“Didja go and tell the girl good-by?” asked Peace.
+
+“---- no! She was the sheriff’s daughter.”
+
+Marshall chuckled and bit off a fresh chew, while Peace leaned against
+the bunkhouse door and grinned at Marshall.
+
+“I’ll bet you was a tough rooster when you was young, Cross L.”
+
+“Dang right! Play ’em high and sleep in the street--that was me. But I
+had brains when it come to wimmin.’”
+
+Peace smiled softly and shook his head.
+
+“I don’t s’pose I have,” he admitted, “but I’ll likely tell somebody
+that I did have--when I get older. Lookin’ back kinda gives folks a
+wrong impression of what they’ve done.
+
+“I ain’t never got the combination, Cross L. Women, to me, is a heap
+like a roulette wheel. I guess red and she comes black. I’ll bet on
+a horse, but never on a woman. I reckon that God A’mighty made ’em
+thataway on purpose, so that a fool man won’t get so smart that he
+thinks he knows it all.”
+
+“Meanin’ that I don’t know wimmin, Peace River?”
+
+“Yeah. And meanin’ that you know ---- well yuh don’t. Want me to bring
+them Herefords up from the Bar X Bar tomorrow?”
+
+“Always want to change the subject, when it’s somethin’ I know all
+about,” complained Cross L. “Talk cows! You don’t know nothin’ but
+cows, Peace River Parker. I wish t’gosh yuh knows more about wimmin.
+I hope that Campion gits bucked off on his vas-leen hair and skids
+plumb out of Chinook Valley, that’s what I wish. But--” quickly--“he
+sure does _sabe_ wimmin’, y’betcha.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Valley of the Chinook was practically a mountain-locked stronghold
+of the cattlemen. It was about thirty miles in length with an average
+width of seven miles. At the north end of the valley several glacier-fed
+streams met to form the Chinook River, which wound its crooked way
+southward, feeding from more tributaries until it roared its formidable
+way out through a snake-like box cañon at the extreme south end and
+joined with the Fossilshell River twenty miles beyond.
+
+Poncho Pass, a V-shaped notch in the cliffs which encircled the valley,
+was the only well-known entrance and exit. The road was a succession of
+narrow grades, climbing out of the valley to where it sloped sharply off
+to the shipping center, Tarp City.
+
+Pasiooks was the only town in the valley and was situated nearly
+midway. At one time it had been an old French trading post, and the
+Indians named it with the Chinook word which meant French. Pasiooks
+was about thirty miles from Tarp City, which was the county seat of
+that particular county.
+
+The Chinook was a cattlemen’s paradise, and many a stock-man looked with
+envious eyes upon the rolling hills, the many cottonwood lined streams
+which furnished an abundance of water and the encircling, impassable
+range of mountains which precluded any chance of cattle-stealing and
+served to break the force of Winter storms.
+
+With Poncho Pass as the only outlet, horse and cattle thieves left
+Chinook severely alone. The sheep-men grumbled at the name. Their
+only range, the Sun Prairie country, was sheeped out and dotted with
+the bones of blizzard and drouth victims. To the south of them was
+the Fossilshell cattle range, where cowpunchers rode the dead-line,
+that no sheep might stray across.
+
+But the cattlemen of the Chinook lived secure in their own tight little
+valley, herded their fat cattle over Poncho Pass to the loading pens at
+Tarp City, banked their checks at Pasiooks and waited for the next herd
+to fatten on the rich bunch-grass.
+
+Bart Severn had owned the Three Dot outfit for several years and was
+rated as a rich man, but he hated the narrow confines of the Chinook,
+and when Frank Campion offered a big price for the Three Dot, Severn
+sold out to him.
+
+The price was almost prohibitive, but Campion paid it willingly. He
+proved himself to be a plunger; a gambler who played money instead of
+his cards. Instead of keeping the Three Dot cowpunchers he brought in
+“Tiny” Bender, a giant of a man, Gus Mehl and “Blackie” Erne.
+
+They were all capable looking men and minded their own business. Once a
+month they went on a “bust” in Tarp City, and Frank Campion went with
+them. Bender, Mehl and Erne did not associate with any of the Chinook
+punchers, but seemed to hold themselves aloof.
+
+But Frank Campion was a “mixer.” He drank hard, rode wildly and was
+belligerent in his cups but he also danced well, sang in a ringing
+baritone voice and never seemed to lack for something to say. There
+was no denying the fact that Frank Campion was fast becoming the most
+popular young bachelor in the Valley of the Chinook.
+
+Peace River Parker had been foreman for the Cross-L for a long time, and
+was respected by every man and woman in the valley. A few months prior
+to this time, Peace had just finished a prison term although innocent of
+the charge.
+
+His return had stopped a sheep invasion of the valley, and ended in the
+death of the invaders after Peace’s innocence of the former charge had
+been proven.
+
+And Peace Parker had inherited the sheep, as a payment for the years
+he had lost in the prison. One of the guilty parties, a weasel-faced
+outlaw, Gus Sinks, whom Peace had saved from the enraged citizens of
+Tarp City, had been sentenced by Peace to herd that particular band
+of sheep.
+
+And Gus Sinks went gladly. He would have walked through burning
+brimstone for Peace River Parker. Sinks was a one-idea man and that
+idea was to serve Peace Parker regardless of what it might entail.
+Thereupon he trailed the big herd of bleating sheep into a land which
+was cursed by all cowpunchers and became a sheepherder.
+
+And to a cattleman or cowpuncher, “Greater love hath no man shown than
+to turn shepherd through friendship.”
+
+Peace Parker was engaged to Jess Marshall, but, as Peace told Cross L
+Marshall, they were not married yet. Jess Marshall’s mother was dead,
+but she had left Jess a sweet disposition and capabilities beyond those
+of the average girl. Jess was not a beautiful girl, as beauty standards
+are measured, but she was attractive and worth looking at more than
+once.
+
+Peace Parker had worshiped her for years, and she had confessed her love
+for him, but still he hesitated over the marriage problem.
+
+“Yuh gotta be sure, Peace River,” he told himself time and again. “I’m
+sure about me, but can she look across the table three times a day at
+this face of mine and still keep her sweet disposition? I’d hate to
+think she can’t, but I’d rather find it out ahead of time.”
+
+He did not show by word or deed that he resented the visits of Frank
+Campion which were becoming more frequent. He did not mention it to
+Jess. Jim Horn and Bert Hart, the other two cowpunchers, resented it
+openly. They were loyal to Peace River and agreed that Frank Campion
+was breeding a lot of trouble for himself.
+
+They knew that Peace Parker would fight a buzz-saw with his bare
+hands and that no man in that country was as swift and deadly with a
+six-shooter.
+
+“I tell yuh, Campion’s goin’ to arrive home without his top-knot some
+of these days,” declared Jim Horn, “and old Peace River’ll be wearin’
+a vaseline-slicked scalp on his belt. Yuh can jist push the old Peace
+feller so far and then somethin’ rips.”
+
+“I’ve got a danged good notion to say somethin’ to Jess,” said Bert
+Hart. “She ought to know that she’s smokin’ her pipe in a
+niter-glycerin’ fact’ry.”
+
+“You lay off that kinda stuff,” advised Jim. “She’s plumb enamored by
+that slickear and if you start any argument she’ll think Peace sent
+yuh.”
+
+“Yeah, I reckon that’s right, Jim. I dunno what in ---- Campion wants a
+cowranch for. If I had his money, I’d be danged if anybody could sell
+me a ranch. I’d go to Helena and buy me three suits of clothes, three
+shirts, three pairs of socks and some neckties. Yessir, I’d go plumb
+hawg-wild on clothes. I’d get me a derby hat; one of them flat-topped
+jiggers, and some heel-yuh-trope per-fume. Mamma mine, I’d sure hang on
+the dog! That’s the way to do when yuh got money.”
+
+“I wouldn’t.”
+
+Jim stretched out in the shade of the bunk-house and began rolling a
+cigaret.
+
+“I’d buy me a ---- of a good bronc and I’d hit for the South Sea
+Islands. I’m plumb sick and tired of wearin’ flannel underclothes and
+buckin’ blizzards in the Winter. They say that folks don’t have to wear
+flannels down there in the Winter, and that’s the range I’m headin’ for
+when I get rich.”
+
+“You’ve got a ---- of a idea of how to spend money!” snorted Bert. “Yuh
+don’t need money down there.”
+
+“Tha’s all right, Bert. Anythin’ to get rid of wearin’ them danged
+woolly shirts. I can go there if I want to, can’t I? You ain’t tryin’
+to stop me, are yuh?”
+
+“Go ahead,” magnanimously. “Don’t let me stop yuh, cowboy. I’ll take
+mine to Helena and buy out a clothing store. I’ve allus wanted one of
+them flat-topped derby hats.”
+
+All of which serves to give an idea of the lofty ambitions of Bert Hart
+and Jim Horn. In appearance they were as unlike as their ambitions. Jim
+was thin, dark of features and with a crooked nose, while Bert was
+fleshy, blond, and his fat face was decorated with a stubby nose, almost
+bridgeless. His eyes were set far apart and almost Oriental in contour.
+
+But they were both top-hands in the rangeland and had been with the
+Cross L for more than two years.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The visits of Frank Campion annoyed Cross L Marshall. He spluttered and
+----ed everybody for everything, but did not speak about it to Jess. He
+knew her too well for that. She was a chip off the old block, as far as
+resenting interference was concerned, and Cross L knew that a word from
+him would not be well received.
+
+Which accounts for the fact that Cross L did not keep his word and “give
+her a little ---- of a good talk, y’betcha.”
+
+Peace was in his usual good humor that evening and several times he
+caught Jess watching him from across the supper table. He felt that
+she was comparing him to Frank Campion and it made him conscious of
+the fact that, as far as facial and tonsorial beauty was concerned,
+he was hardly a match.
+
+But he felt no anger against Campion; none against Jess. Perhaps, down
+deep in his big heart he felt a bitter ache against an unkind fate, but
+he was big enough to keep it hidden.
+
+“It’ll all come out in the wash,” he assured himself that night. “I
+reckon I’m playin’ for the Double O on this old human roulette wheel
+and there’s a lot of odds agin’ me. Mebbe the old dealer has got the
+thing fixed, but I’m still hopin’ to win out. If I don’t, I’m just a
+homely old cowpuncher, and I’ll get along--kinda.”
+
+The next day was Saturday and pay-day, which was the big day for the
+cowpuncher. Hart and Horn both decided to go to Tarp City; so Peace,
+needing a new pair of overalls and boots, decided to go with them.
+Peace decided to leave the Bar X Bar Herefords until Monday, as both
+of his cowpunchers were eager for a fling at the Tarp City games. Just
+before they saddled their horses, Frank Campion, Mehl, Erne and Bender
+rode past, heading toward the Pass. They did not even wave toward the
+Cross L boys, but swept past at a gallop, looking straight ahead.
+
+“Them jaspers need a curryin’,” growled Hart. “You’d think they was the
+four kings of Calcutta.”
+
+Hart knew nothing of kings and less of Calcutta, but no one disputed his
+statement.
+
+“They sure are uppity as ----!”
+
+Jim Horn grunted an agreement as he shook out his rope.
+
+“Mebbe,” thoughtfully, “somebody will curry ’em.”
+
+Peace swung his saddle off the peg and looked back at Jim.
+
+“Keep clear of that gang, if yuh know what’s good for yuh, Jim,” he
+said slowly. “Bender looks like he could whip a dozen men at once, and
+they’re all slickers with a gun, if yuh can judge by the way they wear
+’em.”
+
+“Sa-a-ay!” drawled Jim in astonishment. “You ain’t scared of that
+outfit, are yuh, Peace River?”
+
+“Well,” Peace grinned softly and unfolded a gaudy saddle-blanket, “I
+ain’t scared--no. You fellers might drink quite a lot tonight, and
+whisky kinda makes a feller cover too much territory in his remarks.
+Whisky sure spoils yore sense of distance, direction and discretion,
+and I don’t want no cripples loafin’ around here.”
+
+“We’ll get a lunch while they’re gettin’ a feast,” said Hart meaningly,
+but added quickly, “we ain’t startin’ no trouble, yuh understand, but
+we’ll be Johnny at the rat-hole if it does start.”
+
+Peace smiled softly and led the way out to the corral. He knew that the
+two cowboys, after a few drinks, would not wait for trouble to start and
+he hated to think that they might tangle with the Campion gang.
+
+With practically all of the cowboys from Chinook and those from the
+Fossilshell in Tarp City, there was no chance that a trouble hunter
+would not be accommodated. He knew that Buck Houston, the sheriff,
+would keep order as long as possible to salve his own conscience and
+then go home, trusting in the Lord that nothing serious would happen.
+
+Barney McManus, the deputy, would dog Houston’s footsteps until Houston
+went home, and then Barney would proceed to forget that he was the sole
+representative of law and order and become an ordinary cowpuncher again
+with a cowpuncher’s idea of things as they should be.
+
+Tarp City was a he-man’s town on payday, and Peace Parker found the
+hitch-racks already filled when they rode in dusty and tired from the
+trip. Hart and Horn immediately stabled their horses, but Peace tied
+his to a hitch-rack, along with a nondescript lot of broncos from the
+Fossilshell.
+
+Across the street in front of the Royal saloon he saw the four
+saddle-horses from the Three Dot. Campion had ridden the racy-looking
+black, which was salty with dried sweat and looked leg-weary. Peace
+frowned slightly. He loved a good horse and he knew that Campion had
+given the black a grueling run to Tarp City and had left it in the
+chill winds of the street, instead of giving it a blanket and a stall
+in the livery-barn.
+
+Peace and his two men had taken the trip easy and, in range parlance,
+had not laid a hair, but Peace had insisted on Hart and Horn stabling
+their horses for the night.
+
+Peace met Sheriff Houston at the door of Carney’s General Merchandise
+Store and shook hands with him. Houston was a portly man, middle-aged
+and serious of mien.
+
+“Glad to see yuh, Peace,” greeted the sheriff. “How’s everythin’ in the
+Chinook?”
+
+“Kinda gettin’ along,” grinned Peace. “How’s Tarp?”
+
+“Well,” Houston indicated the filled hitch-racks, with a flirt of his
+hand, “yuh can see that the census is about filled t’day. There’s a few
+yet t’ come from Chinook, but I reckon that most of Fossilshell is here
+a’ready.”
+
+“Good business for Tarp City,” observed Peace.
+
+“Yeah,” grudgingly, “but ---- bad business for the sheriff’s office. Who
+owns that black race horse over there at the Royal rack, Peace?”
+
+“Campion. That’s his reg’lar mount, I reckon. Looks like a runnin’
+son-of-a-gun, don’t it?”
+
+“Uh-huh. What kind of a feller is Campion?”
+
+“All right, I reckon.”
+
+“Which he ain’t,” declared Houston. “No man’s all right that runs the
+tripe out of a blooded animal and leaves it out that-away.”
+
+“Mebbe he’s just thoughtless,” suggested Peace.
+
+“Um-m-m, mebbe. Know anythin’ about his gang?”
+
+Peace shook his head.
+
+“No. Yuh see, they don’t mix with us much. Look like a bunch of
+top-hands, though, and it’s their business if they want to be lonesome.”
+
+“Don’t you never dislike anybody enough t’ say somethin’ against ’em,
+Peace River? You’d say somethin’ good of the ----, wouldn’t yuh?”
+
+“Well,” grinned Peace, “it wouldn’t hurt me none and it might do him
+some good, don’tcha think? Yuh can’t expect old Nick to ever do any
+good, with everybody down on him the way they are.”
+
+“All right, I pass,” laughed Houston.
+
+Barney McManus came out of the store and his wrinkled face broke into
+a smile at sight of Peace. Barney was one of the old Chinook Valley
+punchers, prematurely old in appearance, and filled with the belief
+that anything a cowpuncher did was the right thing.
+
+“Ah-h-h!” grunted Barney. “The meanest man in the old Valley comes to
+visit us, does he?”
+
+“Hello, you old bog-trotter,” greeted Peace.
+
+“Bog-trotter, eh? Is that all the respect ye have for the law, Peace
+Parker? Will ye answer me one question by yes or no?”
+
+“Sure,” grinned Peace.
+
+“Well,” Barney grinned expansively, “have ye quit rustlin’ cattle for
+the Cross L?”
+
+Peace looked at him blankly for a moment.
+
+“I’ll buy the drink, Barney.”
+
+“That makes five already today,” chuckled Barney. “Nobody seems to want
+to incriminate themselves. Sure, it’s a elegant question, but I’ve got
+to quit askin’ it. When do we accept your kind offer?”
+
+Houston nodded to Peace’s unspoken question, and the three of them
+crossed toward the Royal saloon. Hart and Horn were coming down the
+street from the livery-stable and joined them at the saloon door.
+
+The saloon was nearly filled with men and the games were all running
+full-blast. There were a number of cowpunchers from the Fossilshell
+at the bar, acting like a lot of kids just out of school. They fell
+upon Houston and insisted that the drinks were on Fossilshell. The
+boys from the Chinook were included in the invitation, but Gus Mehl,
+who had been drinking heavily, moved away from the bar.
+
+One of the Fossilshell cowboys, evidently considering this an insult to
+their hospitality, said to Mehl--
+
+“Pardner, that invite went to everybody at the bar.”
+
+Mehl laughed crookedly and shook his head. His face was flushed from
+liquor and his step was none too steady.
+
+“Thasall right,” he gulped. “I don’t mind drinkin’ with you
+Fossilshellers, but I ain’t drinkin’ with everybody.”
+
+“Meanin’ us?” queried Bert Hart quickly, but Peace grasped Bert by the
+arm.
+
+Mehl laughed mockingly. He was all primed for trouble, but hardly drunk
+enough to lose sight of the fact that the odds were against him.
+
+“Meanin’ what I mean,” he replied slowly. “I drink with who I ----
+please; _sabe_?”
+
+“Yo’re plumb welcome,” said Horn meaningly, shoving away from the bar,
+but the sheriff blocked him from Mehl.
+
+“Wait a minute,” begged the sheriff. “This ain’t worth havin’ trouble
+over, boys. If the gent from the Three Dot don’t want to drink, he don’t
+drink. But,” he added meaningly, “the gent from the Three Dot might at
+least decline in a gentlemanly way.”
+
+Houston’s manner amused Peace, who grinned widely.
+
+“Funny, ain’t it!” sneered Mehl drunkenly. “Yo’re the notorious Peace
+River Parker, ain’t yuh? Understand that they think yo’re a little tin
+god around here. Well,” Mehl braced himself carefully, “I want to tell
+yuh right now that us fellers from the Three Dot ain’t worshipin’ no
+tin gods. What do yuh think of that?”
+
+“Well, I think yo’re wise,” grinned Peace.
+
+“Yuh do, eh? Pullin’ in yore horns. Blah! Somebody told me that you was
+a fighter. Huh! Somebody lied!”
+
+Mehl turned and lurched away toward a roulette table, swaggering
+drunkenly, bumping into every one who got in his way. The crowd at the
+bar turned back to their drinks, but Hart and Horn continued to glare
+at Mehl.
+
+“Let him alone,” advised Peace. “He’s drunk and ain’t responsible.”
+
+But Mehl was not through yet. Campion was at the poker table and Mehl
+caught sight of him.
+
+“Hey, Frank!”
+
+Mehl’s voice was pitched high enough to be heard above the roar of
+conversation.
+
+“I curried the he-buzzard of Chinook. Made Peace Parker swaller his
+talk, y’betcha. I betcha he’ll be good, or I’ll ride him ag’in.”
+
+Many of the crowd looked toward the bar, but Peace did not even look
+at Mehl. Bert Hart fidgeted around, casting imploring glances toward
+Peace, who continued to talk with the sheriff. Barney nudged in closer
+and whispered to Peace--
+
+“Wait’ll the sheriff sneaks home, and then yuh can have plenty of room
+to put a sharp point on that jasper’s head.”
+
+Peace grinned and turned away from the bar. Mehl was still crowing loud
+enough for every one to hear. Bender was bucking the faro game and Erne
+was playing roulette, but neither of them was paying any attention to
+Mehl.
+
+“Well, I reckon I’ll have to leave yuh,” observed Peace, “I’ve gotta get
+me a pair of boots and some overalls before the store closes.”
+
+“Aw-w, shucks!” exploded Horn. “That hombre will think he run yuh out of
+Tarp City, Peace.”
+
+“Well,” grinned Peace, “it won’t hurt me none and it may do him some
+good. You and Bert keep half-way sober. It looks like there might be
+storm and strife around here before long and you’ll be danged well
+off if yuh ain’t mixed into it.”
+
+“Sure, we’ll be meek like two lambs,” agreed Horn.
+
+Peace turned and walked out of the door. Mehl saw him go and a drunken
+grin wreathed his lips. He thought he had run Peace Parker out of the
+saloon. But he was not content. His one-idea brain pictured more honors
+to come; so he lurched through the crowd and followed Peace, who crossed
+the street and went into a general store.
+
+Bert Hart saw Mehl leave the room and motioned Horn to follow. Campion
+was watching Mehl, and when Hart and Horn started for the door, Campion
+drew out of the game and came out behind them. Mehl lurched across the
+wooden sidewalk and in through the open door.
+
+The two cowpunchers stopped just outside the saloon door, as did Frank
+Campion. They watched him closely, but he paid them no heed.
+
+Suddenly the door of the store banged open and out came Peace Parker
+with Mehl in his arms. He walked deliberately to the edge of the
+sidewalk and cast Mehl into the street where he rolled over and over.
+Then he tossed Mehl’s gun into the dust, adjusted his own belt, turned
+his back and walked into the store.
+
+Mehl got to his feet, staggered a circle and looked back at the store.
+Twice he tried before he could pick up his gun and then he came back
+toward the saloon. Both of his eyes were assuming a mauve tint and he
+seemed rather at a loss to know what had happened.
+
+He halted at the edge of the sidewalk, looked back and then at Campion.
+
+“Di’zuh see it?” he demanded.
+
+“You are a ---- fool, Mehl!” declared Campion.
+
+“Oh, tha’ was it, eh?”
+
+Mehl blinked owlishly through his swollen eyes and began to pity
+himself. Whisky tears started and he became very indignant.
+
+“Oh, shut up!” snapped Campion. “You’re partly to blame, but he had no
+right to hit you when you were drunk.”
+
+“Is--that--so?” drawled Hart. “Kinda looks to me like Peace Parker held
+off a ---- long time. If it had been me I’d ’a’ popped him ten minutes
+ago. He was lookin’ for it.”
+
+“Is this any of your business?” demanded Campion.
+
+“We kinda act thataway, don’t we?”
+
+Campion did not seem to have a ready reply; so he herded Mehl inside
+the saloon, while the two cowboys grinned gleefully and slapped each
+other on the back.
+
+“Let’s go back and have another snifter,” invited Hart. “It’s worth
+a drink to see old Peace hoodle that bad jasper out of the store.
+Whoo-ee! Mehl lit settin’ down and about tomorrow he’ll be ridin’
+with short stirrups.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+They went back to the bar, but did not neglect to see what was going on.
+Campion had gone to the roulette layout and was talking earnestly to
+Erne. He turned from there and strolled over to the faro table where he
+stopped long enough to speak to Bender.
+
+Bender listened closely, glanced around the room and nodded. Mehl had
+sat down near the poker table and was holding his head in his hands.
+The sheriff had left the saloon, and was, no doubt, on his way home,
+but Barney McManus had anchored himself into a poker game and proceeded
+to forget that he represented the law of Tarp City.
+
+The two cowpunchers leaned back against the bar and watched
+developments. Bender cashed in his chips and joined Erne who also
+quit playing. They came over to the bar and had a drink, but neither
+of them even looked at the two from the Cross L.
+
+“We better stable our broncs,” said Bender quietly. “No use leavin’ ’em
+out there at a hitch-rack.”
+
+Erne nodded and they went out of the door. Campion was watching the
+poker game and did not look up as his two men left the place, but the
+Cross L boys followed them outside and watched them lead their horses
+down the street toward the livery-stable.
+
+There was nothing about their actions to excite the suspicions of any
+one, but Jim Horn was not satisfied that everything was all right.
+
+“I dunno,” declared Jim. “Campion never took the trouble to go around
+whisperin’ to them jaspers to go and put their broncs in the stable.”
+
+“Aw, I reckon it’s all right,” replied Bert. “Mebbe they ain’t got sense
+enough to do it without bein’ told. Let’s go back and enjoy the fullness
+of the season.”
+
+Peace Parker completed his purchases, talked a few minutes with Bill
+Carney and decided to go back to the Cross L. He gave little thought to
+his trouble with Mehl, blaming most of it to liquor, and sorry that he
+was forced to knock Mehl down and throw him out of the store; but Mehl
+was trying to draw a gun.
+
+“I wouldn’t never monkey with them kinda people,” declared Carney. “You
+didn’t learn him nothin’, Peace. My motter is to hit ’em so ---- hard on
+the head that it’ll bust the arches of their feet.”
+
+“He was just drunk, Bill,” protested Peace.
+
+“Thasso? Lemme tell yuh, pardner, that a man’s disposition only shows
+when he’s drunk. That jasper’s a trouble hunter, but when he’s sober
+he ain’t got the nerve. You watch him.”
+
+“All right, Bill.” Peace laughed and picked up his bundles. “See yuh
+later.”
+
+As Peace crossed the street toward the hitch-rack he saw Campion come
+out of the Royal and also start for the rack. He was paying no attention
+to Peace. His black horse was at the nearer rack, but he passed it and
+went on toward where Peace’s horse was tied.
+
+Peace expected Campion to continue on up the street, but he stopped at
+the rack and waited for Peace to arrive. At this moment Bender and Erne
+came from the rear of the feed store and approached the sidewalk beyond
+the hitch-rack.
+
+Peace nodded to Campion and began fastening his purchases to his saddle.
+Bender and Erne came in closer and stopped near Campion.
+
+“Didja want to see me for somethin’?” asked Peace, turning his head
+toward Campion.
+
+“Yeah,” Campion nodded quickly. “I just wanted to know what was the
+trouble between you and Gus Mehl.”
+
+“Oh!” Peace finished tying his bundles and turned.
+
+“Why, I dunno exactly what was the trouble, Campion.”
+
+“That’s what I thought. I don’t suppose you stopped to think that Mehl
+was drunk, did you?”
+
+“Yeah, I know he’s drunk.”
+
+“Well, I want you to understand that I’m not drunk.”
+
+“No-o-o, I wouldn’t say that yuh was--but yuh ain’t far from it.”
+
+Peace grinned widely at Bender and Erne, but only received black looks
+for his trouble.
+
+“Is that so?”
+
+Campion’s face grew tense and the muscles twitched around his eyes.
+
+“Now, let’s be reasonable,” urged Peace softly. “Yo’re all warmed up
+over somethin’, and I can’t see no reason for us havin’ trouble. Mehl
+got drunk and tried to abuse me. I got away from him, but he follered
+me and tried to draw his gun. I’d ’a’ been justified in pluggin’ him,
+but he was too slow with his gun; so I just knocked him loose from
+the floor and threw him out.”
+
+“You’re so ---- fast yourself, I suppose?”
+
+“No, I don’t claim to bust no records, Campion.”
+
+Peace turned to his horse and prepared to mount, but Campion was not
+through yet. He moved in closer.
+
+“You know what I think of anybody that’ll hit a drunk man?” he asked.
+
+Peace turned and looked closely at the three men.
+
+“Campion,” Peace spoke softly and without a trace of nervousness. “I
+don’t want trouble with you. You’ve brought two of your men with you
+to see that yuh don’t get hurt, and that kinda puts me in a bad hole.
+
+“I ain’t got no quarrel with you. I didn’t want to hurt yore cowboy, but
+he insisted on it. Now, let it go as it lays.”
+
+Campion laughed sarcastically.
+
+“I looked for you to say that, Parker. You’ve got a ---- of a big
+reputation around here, but you ain’t got the guts to protect it. We’ve
+heard that you are a fighter, but this part of the country must be awful
+shy on fighting material to speak of you that way.”
+
+“I s’pose,” nodded Peace and turned back.
+
+He was trying his best to avoid trouble, but Campion was in no mood to
+be pacified. He felt that Peace was afraid of trouble, and it made him
+more abusive. Campion had drunk just enough to make him reckless of
+words.
+
+“You suppose, do you?” sneered Campion. “You’re a four-flusher, Parker.
+These two men of mine have nothing to do with this, if that’s holding
+you back. I think you are a big-mouthed quitter, and I’ve a ---- good
+notion to----”
+
+“With your gun or your hands?” Peace turned quickly, a wide grin on his
+face, but his eyes were not smiling.
+
+Campion jerked back slightly. He had not expected Peace to accept his
+challenge, and now that it was put directly up to him, he hardly knew
+what to say.
+
+Peace shook his head.
+
+“Campion, you don’t want trouble with me. You think it over for a while
+and you’ll see just how foolish yo’re actin’.”
+
+For a moment Campion only stared at him and Peace turned to reach for
+the tie-rope, but a wave of anger flashed across Campion’s face and he
+stepped in closer, grasping Peace by the arm, as though to whirl him
+around.
+
+And if that was Campion’s intention, the results far exceeded his
+expectations, because Peace turned like a flash and his right fist
+caught Campion square in the face. The blow struck too high for a
+knock-out, but it sent Campion off his feet and he went down on the
+back of his neck in the dust.
+
+The action had been so sudden that Bender and Erne had no time to
+assist Campion, and Peace was facing them, smiling easily, his right
+hand swinging near the butt of his holstered gun.
+
+Campion struggled to his feet and stood there in sort of a daze, looking
+at the man who had hit him, but making no further effort to continue the
+battle. Bert Hart and Jim Horn were hurrying from the Royal, and several
+men were crossing from the opposite side of the street.
+
+There was nothing dapper looking about Campion now. The bridge of his
+nose was skinned badly and one eye was fast swelling shut. He was still
+dazed from the blow, but fully realized what had happened and his face
+was white with hate against the man who had knocked him down.
+
+Suddenly his right hand flashed toward the butt of his gun. It was an
+unlooked for action on the part of every one, except Peace Parker,
+whose hand jerked upward from his side and he shot directly from his
+hip.
+
+Campion jerked sideways and his gun thudded into the dust. Whether
+through accident or design, Peace’s bullet had smashed into the curving
+butt of Campion’s gun, splintering the bone handle and cutting Campion’s
+fingers badly.
+
+Bender and Erne made no move, as Campion looked down at his crippled
+hand and cursed wickedly. Jim Horn was standing directly behind
+Bender and Erne, waiting for either of them to make a hostile move.
+Erne glanced back at him, turned on his heel and went back toward the
+saloon, with Bender following him.
+
+There was an awkward silence for several moments and Campion picked up
+his hat, dusted it off against his knee, his face a mixture of anger
+and chagrin. Then he walked to the hitch-rack, mounted his horse and
+rode away.
+
+Bender and Erne watched him from the saloon door, and, in a few moments,
+went toward the livery-stable. Campion was heading straight toward the
+Poncho Pass road.
+
+Peace shook his head at the crowd, which volleyed him with questions as
+to the why and wherefore of this trouble.
+
+“Just foolishness,” said Peace, but Bert and Jim led him away from the
+crowd.
+
+“It was a frame-up,” declared Jim. “We seen Campion whisper to Bender
+and Erne, and then they took their horses to the livery-stable--or said
+they was goin’ to and we seen ’em go down there.
+
+“We didn’t see Campion go out, and Bender and Erne didn’t come back. A
+little later I looked out back of the Royal, and there was two of them
+Three Dot horses tied to that old corral fence. They’d made a bluff to
+stable ’em, but circled back and tied to the fence. Me and Bert fogged
+out to the street just in time to see yuh swat Mr. Campion.”
+
+“Well, I dunno what they want to frame up on me for,” grinned Peace. “I
+never done nothin’ to them.”
+
+“Don’t make no never mind,” Jim shook his head. “It was all framed,
+Peace.”
+
+“Wait a minute,” said Bert, and bow-legged his way to the rear of the
+feed store.
+
+He came back in a minute and grinned wonderingly.
+
+“Both broncs are gone. I’ll betcha that all three of them jaspers has
+headed for home.”
+
+Peace grinned thoughtfully, as he walked back to his horse and swung
+into the saddle.
+
+“We’ll be home by Monday mornin’,” assured Jim.
+
+Peace nodded and rode away slowly. It was a long, hard ride to the Cross
+L, but Peace was in no hurry. Ahead of him was Campion, Bender and Erne,
+somewhere along the high grades of Poncho Pass.
+
+“They knew I was ready to go home,” reflected Peace, “and them pullin’
+out of town thataway don’t look good to me a-tall. Cowpunchers don’t
+leave a saloon on payday without a danged good reason. Mebbe they’re
+lookin’ for me.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The sun was setting behind the V-shaped notch of Poncho Pass and the
+graded road was already plunged into the shadows of evening, when Peace
+drew rein and scanned the country about him.
+
+To the left was a rocky, brush-covered hog-back ridge, which broke
+sharply against the cliffs beyond. There was little footing for a
+horse and no sign of a trail, but Peace urged his horse off the road
+and up this ridge.
+
+Twisting in and out of the brush, he gradually climbed until the road
+was far below him. Then he swung to the left through a rocky swale and
+along the north side of a rock-bound cañon.
+
+There he picked up what might have been an old, old trail, which led
+down across the cañon and angled up the other side among the barren
+rocks. A bevy of blue-grouse whirred up about him, came to roost in
+the branches of a stunted pine and craned their necks curiously at
+him.
+
+A little beyond there a mule-deer crossed the ridge ahead of him,
+stopped and looked him over curiously. Then it whistled and bounded
+heavily down the hill, disappearing in the trees.
+
+Peace was following the marks of the old trail now, paying no attention
+to the back trail. This was the one secret way into the Valley of the
+Chinook and was only known to a few men, who guarded the secret well.
+
+He came at last to the beetling crags which marked the timber-line, and
+the trail led him down over the lip of another narrow cleft, where he
+angled his way to the slope of the valley side. It was not a difficult
+pass, but no one would ever look for it at that part of the range. Those
+who knew of it only used it at rare times and were careful not to follow
+exactly the same route, except through the very pass itself.
+
+It was fast growing dark when Peace started down the rocky slope that
+led to the foothills of the valley. Below him the valley seemed a huge,
+mystic bowl, rimmed with a jagged edge which was high-lighted with the
+gold of sunset.
+
+Slowly he descended into the purple shadows. About a mile further down
+he came to the beginning of a well-beaten trail, where the cattle had
+cut deeply into the ground on their way to water.
+
+He rode beside this trail, where his horse’s tracks would not show in
+the dust. It was a long way from the secret pass, but Peace did not
+want his horse’s track even to show up there.
+
+He drew rein beside the trail and looked back up the dim slopes behind
+him. He could see only a short distance, but he had a vague feeling that
+something was behind him. He grinned at his own foolish imagination and
+began to manufacture a cigaret.
+
+He hesitated about scratching a match. Suddenly he heard a sound. It was
+like the click of a shod hoof on stone. Quickly he turned away from the
+trail and rode further back into the jack-pine thicket, where he stopped
+to listen. The sound was not repeated. Unluckily he had moved too far
+back to catch a view of the trail.
+
+Once he thought he heard the jingle of a bit-chain, but decided that
+it was his imagination. He waited for perhaps ten minutes before going
+back to the trail. There he dismounted, lighted his cigaret and held
+the match close to the dusty trail.
+
+He examined it closely for a few moments, pinched out the match and
+swung back into his saddle. In the trail was the well-defined track of a
+horse, heading down into the valley, and the track showed that the horse
+was shod with thin shoes--almost as light as racing-plates.
+
+“Campion followed me through,” reflected Peace wonderingly. “He must ’a’
+swung in behind me and watched me leave the road.”
+
+Far down in the valley an owl hooted dismally, and from the timber-line
+a coyote seemed to answer with a wailing howl. Peace ground the lighted
+end of his cigaret against the leg of his chaps, settled himself in his
+saddle and went slowly down the trail toward the Cross L.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sunday was a dull day at the Cross L. Peace slept late and was only
+awakened by the sound of a wagon leaving the ranch, as Cross L Marshall
+took Jess to church at Pasiooks.
+
+It was an ordeal for Cross L, this Sunday pilgrimage to the little
+church; an hour or so of misery, while he listened to the denunciation
+of sin, which the minister seemed to point directly to him. Cross L
+hated to _have_ to do anything, and hoped for the day when Jess might
+have a man to take her to church, and let her tired old dad sleep late
+and loaf around the house in his slippers, instead of going to church
+in a pair of creaking, palpably new Sunday boots and a suit of black,
+uncomfortable clothes.
+
+He usually salved his outraged feelings thus--
+
+“I ante a certain amount in this here church game every year and I
+reckon I’ve got to play out the hand.
+
+“The preacher says that yuh can’t go to heaven unless you’re a
+Christian, don’t he? He sure hammers it into us and I kinda feel
+uplifted when I leave the church, but it don’t stay with me longer
+than supper-time. I’ve either got to die between noon and six o’clock
+on a Sunday, or I ain’t got a chance in the hereafter.”
+
+They had often urged Peace to attend church with them, but he shook his
+head.
+
+“I’m like a Injun,” he explained. “I know that there’s a Big Spirit
+somewhere--somethin’ that keeps us tickin’ along. Somehow I can’t look
+up at the sky and figure that the Big Spirit is up there any more than
+it’s down here, and as far as there bein’ a punishment for sin after
+death, I can’t see what’s the use of it.
+
+“It’s like tryin’ to scare a kid by tellin’ him goblin stories. I reckon
+that the Big Spirit made us intelligent critters, and He never meant us
+to be scared to die. No sir! I never did believe in threatenin’ folks,
+and I don’t reckon that the Big Spirit ever intended for us to scare
+anybody into bein’ good. I don’t need no preacher to tell me right from
+wrong, and if I do wrong I’ll get all my hell right here, y’betcha.”
+
+“Saleratus” Smith, the cook of the Cross L, disliked church for the
+simple reason that he had to get an early breakfast for Jess and her
+father. Saleratus was an old chuckwagon cook before he took over the
+culinary duties of the Cross L. But Saleratus could cook. Rheumatism
+had unfitted him for anything except kitchen work and had caused his
+soul to sour against everything and everybody. He rolled voluminous
+cigarets out of wrapping-paper and plugcut tobacco of great
+strength; cigarets that were forever coming unwrapped and spilling
+their contents in a smoking mass. And, in case they did burn to a
+successful end, they scorched his scraggly mustache and caused him
+to emit a flow of profanity that only a lifetime on the ranges could
+have acquired.
+
+Jim and Bert did not come back to the ranch until early Monday morning,
+and they had little taste for breakfast. They were sadder, but no wiser
+than when they left on Saturday. Tarp City had their month’s salary, but
+that was as usual and no more than they expected.
+
+Peace was saddling his horse at the corral, and Jim and Bert were
+arguing in the kitchen with Saleratus, when Blackie Erne rode in and
+tied his horse to a corner of the porch.
+
+Cross L Marshall was sitting on the porch and merely grunted as Erne
+climbed the steps and came up to him. Jim Horn looked out of the kitchen
+door and watched Erne leave his horse. He motioned to Bert to come out.
+
+The horse, a Roman-nosed buckskin, had swung around until its body was
+hidden from those on the porch, and Jim Horn grinned gleefully as he
+picked up a few feet of baling-wire and motioned frantically to Bert.
+
+Old Cross L looked quizzically at Erne, waiting for him to make known
+his mission.
+
+“Is Miss Marshall to home?” asked Erne.
+
+“I hope she is,” grunted Marshall. “Ain’t seen her this mornin’, so I’d
+say she was still in bed.”
+
+Erne reached in his pocket and drew out an envelop, which he tendered to
+Marshall.
+
+“Will yuh see that she gets this here note?”
+
+Marshall squinted at the unsealed envelop, turning it over and over in
+his hands.
+
+“I reckon I will,” he nodded slowly. “Ain’t nobody been took sick nor
+nothin’ like that, has there?”
+
+Erne squinted back at him and shook his head, as he said:
+
+“Not yet. Much obliged.”
+
+“Uh-huh.”
+
+Erne went back to his horse and swung into the saddle. He whistled
+unmusically between his teeth, as if glad that his mission was over.
+The buckskin jerked around nervously and from its hind legs came a
+metallic sound.
+
+Erne turned to look back as the horse buck-jumped quickly, and caught
+a flash of a large tin-can hanging to the buckskin’s tail. Came the
+_tunk!_ as it struck the horse’s heels, and Mr. Erne began riding high
+and handsome in order not to part from his saddle.
+
+Down past the corral and out of the gate went the buckskin, bucking and
+bawling in a cloud of dust, while Jim Horn hugged Saleratus hysterically
+and Bert Hart sat down on the ground, howling with unholy mirth.
+
+Marshall watched the unceremonious leaving of Blackie Erne and walked
+to the side of the porch, where he could look back at the three at
+the kitchen door. Marshall did not know just what was the matter with
+the horse, but he did know that Jim and Bert were responsible. Peace
+stopped saddling long enough to watch Erne disappear in a cloud of
+dust, shook his head sadly over the misdeeds of his men and went back
+to his task.
+
+Cross L Marshall smothered a grin and turned back, looking at the
+unsealed envelop. He cocked one ear toward the open door as if
+listening. Satisfied that Jess was nowhere in sight, he proceeded to
+show that he was entirely without shame.
+
+Cautiously he perused the note several times. Then he put it carefully
+in his pocket, bit an enormous chew of tobacco off his plug and exploded
+an oath that would have galvanized a dead mule into life.
+
+He squinted down toward the corral at Peace Parker who was looping up
+his lariat rope, and hesitated for a moment over just what to do, made
+his decision and clumped down the steps.
+
+Peace turned to him as he approached.
+
+“What did Erne want?” he asked.
+
+Marshall spat explosively and handed Peace the envelop.
+
+“Brought yuh a note,” he mumbled.
+
+“Me? Why didn’t he bring it to me, Cross L?”
+
+Marshall cleared his throat with difficulty, as Peace drew out the
+missive and scanned it.
+
+    My Dear Jessie:
+
+    In a fit of anger, caused by jealousy, I think, Peace Parker took
+    occasion to damage me to a certain extent, which accounts for my
+    absence. But physical wounds heal quickly and I shall count the hours
+    until I am presentable again.
+
+                                                        Yours,
+                                                                Frank.
+
+    P. S.--Please say nothing to Parker. I can appreciate his feelings
+    in this matter. F.
+
+Peace lifted his eyes and looked at Cross L who was still having throat
+trouble.
+
+“Cross L, this note wasn’t intended for me?”
+
+“Huh! Wasn’t intended for yuh? Then--lemme see it, Peace.”
+
+Peace folded it slowly and put it back into the envelope.
+
+“That note is for Jess--not me.”
+
+“The ---- it was! Well, I’ll be darned! Huh!”
+
+Cross L squinted at the note and up at Peace.
+
+“Well, sir, I must be gittin’ hard of hearin’, Peace. I thought I
+distinctly heard that jasper say that it was for you. Yuh know, I
+wondered why he didn’t give it to you. Huh! Well, I’ll have to give
+it to Jess.”
+
+He walked swiftly back toward the house; anxious to get out of range of
+Peace Parker’s accusing eyes. Marshall was not a gifted liar. Peace
+looked after him, a queer expression in his eyes. A smile flitted across
+his wide lips and he shook his head slowly.
+
+“Cross L, yo’re an awful poor liar,” he reflected, “but yuh mean mighty
+well.”
+
+Jess had come out on the porch and met her father, who handed her the
+envelope.
+
+“Mister Erne brought it for yuh, Jess.”
+
+He bit off a fresh chew and scratched his shoulders against a
+porch-post, while Jess read the missive, a slight frown between her
+eyes.
+
+“Ain’t nobody sick, are they, Jess?” he asked seriously, but avoiding
+her eyes.
+
+“No, I don’t think so.”
+
+“I was just wonderin’.”
+
+Cross L sat down on the porch and rubbed his hands on his thighs
+nervously.
+
+“I was just wonderin’ why that Erne feller come here. I don’t like him,
+Jess. He ain’t bringin’ yuh poetry, is he?”
+
+“Poetry?”
+
+Jess laughed shortly and shook her head.
+
+“Tha’sall right then, Jess. I ain’t got a bit of use for them poets.
+Fellers--” He reflected a moment--“Fellers that vas-leen their
+hair--might write poetry.”
+
+Jess studied the back of his head for a while, and then--
+
+“Dad, why do you dislike Frank Campion?”
+
+“Dislike him? I never said I did.”
+
+“But you do dislike him?”
+
+“No, I don’t dislike him, Jess. That word’s too soft. I hate him to beat
+----!”
+
+“Why?” softly.
+
+“Why!”
+
+Cross L got to his feet and tried to glare at Jess.
+
+“Yes, why, dad?”
+
+“’Cause I don’t like him and ’cause he’s a ---- liar and--and
+everythin’.”
+
+“Why do you call him a liar? Did he lie to you?”
+
+Cross L began to have throat trouble again. He felt that Jess knew he
+had read that note. He walked to the corner of the porch and proceeded
+to cough rackingly. When he turned, his eyes were filled with tears
+from his efforts and his voice was husky.
+
+“Gotta do somethin’ for my cold,” he told her. “Be in m’ grave, if I
+don’t. Must ’a’ set in a draft. Cough m’ fool head off once in a while.”
+
+“Especially when you don’t want to answer a question, dad.”
+
+“What question?” Cross L fairly bristled, but started for the steps.
+“What’s questions got to do with runnin’ a cattle-ranch, I’d admire t’
+know. Think I’m goin’ t’ stand around and let m’ business go to rack
+and ruin, just ’cause a fool woman wants t’ ask questions? Huh!”
+
+He humped his head between his shoulders and headed for the corral,
+where Jim and Bert were leaning on the fence, still laughing over what
+they had done to Erne.
+
+“Didja see what happened to that Erne feller?” asked Jim, still
+chuckling.
+
+“What did yuh do to him?” asked Cross L.
+
+“Tied a tin-can to his bronc’s tail. Man, man, but didn’t that animal
+respond to treatment. Ha, ha, ha, ha!”
+
+Cross L glared at them and masticated violently.
+
+“That’s a ---- of a thing to do! Do I have t’ muzzle you pelicans to
+make visitin’ safe at this ranch? That was a danged mean thing t’ do,
+and I don’t want t’ see yuh do it ag’in; _sabe_?”
+
+“All right,” said Jim seriously, “yuh won’t. And yuh won’t have to
+muzzle us either, old timer. There’s other ranches where they hire
+cow-hands.”
+
+“M’yah!” grunted Cross L explosively, and then to Peace--
+
+“Tell me about that scrap yuh had with Campion.”
+
+Peace shook his head slowly--
+
+“No, it ain’t worth tellin’.”
+
+“Like ---- it ain’t!” snorted Jim, and proceeded to tell the whole story
+in detail, while old Cross L masticated thoughtfully and squinted at
+him.
+
+“Shot the gun out of his hand, eh? Knocked him upside down and then
+busted his gun-hand.”
+
+“Well, my gosh, he had to do it!” yowled Jim.
+
+“Didn’t have t’ shoot him in the hand, did he?”
+
+“Well, he had to stop him.”
+
+“Was he runnin’ on his hands?”
+
+“Aw, you make me sick!”
+
+“Yeah, and you fellers make me sick,” retorted Cross L. “Shoot ’em in
+the hands! ----’s delight! What’s a man got a body for, if it ain’t t’
+shoot at? Yuh make me sick, takin’ a chance on shootin’ at his hands!”
+
+Cross L spat viciously and glared at Jim Horn.
+
+“How long do yuh reckon that tin can’ll stay on that bronc’s tail, Jim?”
+
+“Quite some period,” declared Jim. “It was put on with twisted
+balin’-wire.”
+
+“That’s,” Cross L squinted down the road, “that’s what I call bein’
+thorough. But if yuh ever try it on that black race horse----”
+
+He glared wickedly for a moment and then a smile wrinkled his face.
+
+“Be careful. I’ll betcha that bronc could kick a fly out of a gallon can
+of axle grease and never spot his hoof.”
+
+Cross L grunted softly to himself, tightened up his belt and went back
+toward the house. The three cowpunchers looked at each other and grinned
+widely.
+
+“My ----, but old Cross L is plumb human!” exclaimed Jim Horn. “He’s
+reg’lar home folks.”
+
+Which was not a compliment, but a statement of fact.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three days passed without anything happening, except the usual routine
+of the cattle-ranch. None of the Three Dot outfit came to the Cross L.
+Peace and the other two punchers were busy moving a bunch of Herefords
+from the Bar X Bar and throwing them back into the ranges nearer the
+pass, but they saw nothing of Campion nor his men.
+
+Peace avoided the ranch-house as much as possible. He had been in the
+habit of spending his evenings in the living-room with Jess and her
+father, but now he played seven-up for mythical stakes with Jim and
+Bert, or listened to Jim play an everlasting Spanish fandango on his
+guitar.
+
+He had not changed in any way, except this. He did not sigh over his
+misfortunes. On the contrary, his smile seemed wider and he plunged
+into the ranch work with a will. Jess said nothing to her father, but
+she knew he missed Peace Parker at the interval between supper and
+bedtime.
+
+But Cross L would not admit it except on the second night, when Peace
+did not join him, he flung aside his newspaper at eight o’clock and got
+to his feet.
+
+“---- any man that vas-leens his hair!” he exploded and clumped off to
+bed, talking in an undertone to himself.
+
+On Thursday Gus Sinks rode in at the Cross L and met Peace at the barn.
+Gus was a thin, wiry, wry-necked sort of an individual with the face of
+a ferret. There was nothing good about Sinks. He was a gun-man,
+ex-horse-thief and several more things. But, for the first time in his
+life, he was shooting square with one man--Peace Parker.
+
+“Hello, Gus,” greeted Peace, shaking hands with him. “I been wonderin’
+when you’d come in. How’s everythin’?”
+
+“Aw right. I’d ’a’ been in before this, but I couldn’t find a honest
+man to leave with the sheep. I got a Basque herder, and he _sabes_
+enough United States to know that I’ll massacree him if any of them
+----ed animated underwears are missin’ when I get back.”
+
+Peace laughed and shook his head.
+
+“I dunno how yuh stand it out there, Gus. How’s the feed?”
+
+“Feed’s fine. I dunno how I stand it either, Peace. The other day I got
+to thinkin’ about it. I says to myself:
+
+“‘Sinks, yo’re a ---- fool. Why don’t yuh sell these lousy woollies and
+pull yore freight with the money. Nobody would be the wiser.’
+
+“I could do it, too, Peace. There’s buyers out there that don’t care who
+owns the sheep. But--” Gus hooked one leg around his saddle-horn and
+drew out his tobacco and papers--“but I jist shut my eyes and remembered
+back to that night in Tarp City, when they had the rope all ready for my
+neck, and you stepped in and claimed that my life belonged to you. I’ll
+betcha--” Gus shut his eyes tight for a moment--“I’ll betcha I don’t
+forget that, Peace.”
+
+“Well,” Peace smiled softly, “mebbe they wouldn’t ’a’ hung yuh, Gus.”
+
+“The ---- they wouldn’t! I had it comin’ to me, didn’t I? Don’tcha try
+to fool yoreself, Peace; I know Tarp City.”
+
+“How are yuh fixed for money, Gus?”
+
+“That’s why I came in, Peace. I don’t need no salary, but the grub’s
+runnin’ low.”
+
+“You’ve got to have some salary, too, Gus.”
+
+“Aw, I’ll get along. You forgit the salary until yuh sell them sheep.
+All I need is grub money.”
+
+“Well, go right down to Pasiooks,” declared Peace. “I’ve got money in
+the bank down there.”
+
+“Pasiooks, eh? I never seen that town. Have they got a bank down there?”
+
+“Y’betcha. Yuh didn’t think that the Chinookers packed their money to
+Tarp City, didja? Our bank is the richest little old bank in the state,
+if anybody asks yuh.”
+
+“Yeah? Oh, I’ll betcha that’s right, too. These cattlemen sure do make
+money over here.”
+
+Peace got his horse and they headed for Pasiooks which was five miles
+away. It could hardly be called a town. The one street was hardly a
+block long. There was the Pasiooks bank, general store, post-office
+and blacksmith shop on one side of the street, and on the other was a
+little restaurant, two saloons and a feed store.
+
+On the east side of the settlement was the little frame schoolhouse and
+at the south end of the town was the church. The schoolhouse and the
+church had been painted within two years, but the rest of the buildings
+were unpainted, or had been painted but time had worn off the color.
+
+There were several horses tied to the saloon hitchracks as Peace and Gus
+Sinks rode into the town, and as they dismounted in front of the bank,
+Frank Campion and Tiny Bender came out of a saloon and went out to their
+horses.
+
+Sinks turned and watched them mount their horses. Frank had a little
+trouble with his black horse, which carried him over near the bank. He
+looked at Sinks and his brows drew together in a quick frown. Quickly
+he jerked the horse around and galloped off up the road after Bender.
+Sinks continued to look after him, and his face registered wonderment
+as he turned to Peace.
+
+“Who’s the fussy cowpuncher, Peace?”
+
+“Feller by the name of Campion. Bought out the Three Dot outfit over
+here.”
+
+“Ye-e-eah?” Sinks seemed slightly amused. “Cow-man, eh?”
+
+“Well, I dunno about his ability, but he owns the ranch.”
+
+“Well, that’s kinda flossy,” remarked Sinks. “Let’s go and get the
+_dinero_.”
+
+As they entered the bank they met Chris Sorensen, the owner of the Bar
+X Bar. Chris was a big Norse cow-man with a mustache that looked like a
+pair of inverted buffalo horns, and the voice of a bull.
+
+“H’lo, Peace,” he boomed. “I was just goin’ to ride out and see you.
+The boys just brought in some more of them white-faced cows and I was
+wonderin’ if Cross L wanted any more of them. Look fine.”
+
+“All right,” grinned Peace. “I’ll ride back with yuh as soon as I get
+through with a little business.”
+
+Sorensen waited until Peace had drawn some money and paid it over to
+Sinks who seemed interested in the interior of the bank. Few strangers
+ever came to Pasiooks and Mark Clayton, the cashier, made a memory
+photograph of Gus Sinks.
+
+They went outside and Gus mounted his horse.
+
+“I’ll see yuh ag’in in a couple of weeks, Peace. If yuh want to sell
+out there’s plenty of buyers goin’ through the Sun Prairie, but they
+don’t offer much. If we get one more rain pretty soon we’ll be all
+fixed and can thumb our nose at ’em. Whatcha think?”
+
+“Well, I dunno,” confessed Peace. “I don’t want to give ’em away, Gus.
+Suppose we wait and take a chance, eh? If you don’t mind stickin’ out
+there.”
+
+Gus spat dryly.
+
+“Aw, I’ll stick. S’-long, Peace, and thanks for the _dinero_.”
+
+Peace waved at him and went to join Sorensen at the hitch-rack. He had
+had his doubts about Gus Sinks, and would not have been surprised to
+know that Sinks had sold out the sheep and skipped the country, but
+since Sinks’ confession of guilty thoughts he felt that his sheep were
+well protected.
+
+Somehow he had the feeling that Gus Sinks and Frank Campion knew each
+other. He had seen the expression of Campion’s face when he saw Sinks,
+and Sinks had shown too much interest for one stranger in another. But
+it was none of his business, he decided. It was a small world, and
+there was no reason why they shouldn’t know each other.
+
+He walked over to Sorensen, where they mounted and rode out the opposite
+end of town toward the Bar X Bar.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Figuratively speaking, Peace Parker exploded a bombshell under Cross L
+Marshall the following day. Jim and Bert had ridden toward the upper end
+of the valley and Peace and Cross L were sitting on the porch, looking
+over some figures that Peace had got on Bar X Bar yearlings.
+
+Cross L had been arguing over the prices and swearing at Sorensen for
+being a pirate when he happened to notice that Peace was paying no
+attention. The big cowboy was staring off across the hills, his mind
+wandering far from the business at hand.
+
+“When yuh come back we’ll talk some more,” said Cross L humorously.
+
+“When I come back,” repeated Peace slowly. “Yeah, that’s it, Cross L.”
+
+“What’s the matter with yuh, Peace?”
+
+“Nothin’; I was just thinkin’.”
+
+“Yeah? But yuh wasn’t thinkin’ about white-faced cows.”
+
+“No-o-o--not about cows.”
+
+Peace turned and put his hand on Marshall’s shoulder, a whimsical smile
+on his homely face.
+
+“I’m goin’ away, Cross L--goin’ to take a trip.”
+
+Marshall eyed him closely, while he drew out his plug of tobacco and bit
+off a quarter-section.
+
+“Thasso? How long will yuh be gone, Peace?”
+
+Peace smiled and shook his head.
+
+“I dunno. The Injuns used to say, ‘When the wind blows out through
+Poncho Pass, who can say when that same wind will return?’”
+
+“----!” exploded Marshall. “Yuh don’t mean that yo’re goin’ for good!”
+
+“For good?”--Peace rubbed his chin thoughtfully--“Mebbe. The only trip
+I ever had was to the penitentiary and I’d kinda like to see somethin’
+beyond the hills.”
+
+“Uh-huh,” Cross L squinted narrowly into space. “To see somethin’ beyond
+the hills, Peace. Yuh know, I was thataway once. I wanted t’ see the
+other side of the hill. But I’m old now, and I don’t care what’s over
+there. Right now and right here is all that interests me.”
+
+“You ain’t old, Cross L.”
+
+“Mebbe not, Peace. I’m sixty. And when yo’re sixty yuh don’t climb hills
+just to look over the other side.”
+
+For several minutes they sat silent, each busy with his own thoughts.
+Then:
+
+“I always wished I had a son,” said Cross L slowly. “Our first baby was
+a girl and she died when she was a little thing. Then Jess came along.
+Her mother didn’t live long after that, Peace.
+
+“I had t’raise Jess m’self, and I reckon I made a ---- of a mess of it.
+She ain’t got the sense that the Lord gave geese in Ireland. If she was
+a boy I could cuss him out and hammer some sense into him--but she ain’t
+no boy.”
+
+“Jess,” said Peace softly, “Jess is a wonderful girl.”
+
+“M’yah!” Thoughtfully. “Didja tell her yuh was goin’ away, Peace?”
+
+“No-o-o. Yuh see I just made up my mind.”
+
+“Uh-huh. When yuh goin’, Peace?”
+
+“Tomorrow, I reckon. I’ll go to Sun Prairie and sell out them sheep
+and then I reckon I’ll go down into Arizona. I ain’t made up my mind
+just where I’ll go.”
+
+“Uh-huh,” Cross L got slowly to his feet and sighed deeply. “I--I hope
+yuh have luck, Peace Parker. We’ll be kinda thinkin’ about yuh and
+wonderin’--I s’pose.”
+
+“I’ll write to yuh, Cross L.”
+
+“Yeah, I s’pose so.”
+
+Cross L reached for his plug of tobacco, but his hand stopped short of
+his pocket.
+
+A man was riding swiftly in through the ranch gate and coming toward
+them, while several other men, who had been with him, kept on up the
+main road, heading toward the upper end of the valley.
+
+The rider jerked to a stop near the porch and dropped to the ground. It
+was Perry Hazelton, the blacksmith from Pasiooks. He dropped his reins
+and trotted up the steps.
+
+“The Pasiooks bank has been robbed!” he panted, as he pointed up the
+road, where a cloud of dust still hung.
+
+“Some of the boys have headed for the Pass, but he’s likely got away by
+this time.”
+
+“Pasiooks bank!” exclaimed Cross L. “Who done it?”
+
+“Whew! I’m all out of wind!” puffed Hazelton, “I reckon I worked harder
+than the horse did. We don’t know who done the job. It was about an hour
+ago, I think.
+
+“There wasn’t nobody in the bank, except Clayton, when I went in and
+found him. He’d been hit over the head with somethin’, and was layin’
+half-in and half-out of the vault. There was loose money scattered all
+over the floor.
+
+“I yelled for help and we got Clayton on to a cot. He kinda roused up
+long enough to tell us that he’d been robbed by one man. We turned him
+over to Doctor Glover and then went huntin’ for the robber. If he ain’t
+made his getaway straight for the Pass he’s still here in the valley.”
+
+“How much money did he get?” asked Cross L.
+
+“We dunno. From the looks of things he’s got a lot.”
+
+“I’ve expected this,” said Cross L quickly. “Yuh see, this bank belongs
+to us cowmen. We’re a queer lot, I guess. We didn’t trust the banks at
+Tarp City; so we started one of our own.
+
+“We didn’t do a regular bankin’ business--much. It was more of a place
+to store money. And like a lot of fools we didn’t think that anybody
+would bother it.”
+
+“Must ’a’ been a lot of money in there,” observed Hazelton.
+
+“A lot? I dunno how much, but about all the money there is in Chinook
+Valley, except what’s wearin’ a hide and runnin’ around on four legs.”
+
+“It probably won’t take Clayton long to find out how much is gone,”
+stated Peace. “Let’s go down there.”
+
+“One of the boys will ride to Tarp City and tell the sheriff,” said
+Hazelton as they went after the horses. “There was Dud Le Page, Baldy
+Hyatt, Jud Smith and Campion.”
+
+“Where did you find Campion?” asked Cross L.
+
+“At the Three Dot. There wasn’t no use of everybody goin’ to the Pass;
+so he sent his three punchers to town to help search the South end.”
+
+Pasiooks was a busy little place when they rode in. Bad news travels
+swiftly, and the robbery of the bank was mighty bad news to the Valley
+of the Chinook. Several groups of cowboys had already left town,
+searching for a sight of the robber.
+
+Clayton, his head swathed in bandages, was in the bank, trying to
+check up the extent of the loss while several cattlemen stood around
+and annoyed him with questions.
+
+Peace and Cross L Marshall came in and joined the group. Clayton looked
+up at them. His face was very white and his eyes showed that he was
+suffering from a raging headache.
+
+“H’lo, Clayton,” said Cross L. “How are yuh feelin’?”
+
+“Not very good,” faltered Clayton. “My head is all wrong for figures
+right now.”
+
+He sat down in a chair and held his head in his hands.
+
+“Any idea how much money he got?” asked one of the men.
+
+“About all there was in the vault,” groaned Clayton. “I’d hate to even
+make a guess. Of course it will all check up.”
+
+“About how much?” queried Marshall anxiously.
+
+“Well,” Clayton lifted his head, “there was thirty thousand in currency
+in one box. I don’t know how much gold there was, but it was about ten
+thousand dollars.”
+
+The cattlemen looked at each other seriously. It meant that they were
+about cleaned out. It was their own institution--their loss.
+
+“It was a foolish idea,” said Clayton heavily. “We should have invested
+this money. But--well, there’s no wisdom in hoarding money, gentlemen.”
+
+“That’s a cinch--now,” said one of the men bitterly.
+
+“Any idea who done it?” queried Peace.
+
+Clayton squinted painfully at Peace and nodded slowly.
+
+“Yes, I know who did it, Parker.”
+
+“Yuh do?” exploded Cross L. “Who was it, Clayton?”
+
+Clayton rubbed his aching head.
+
+“I don’t know his name, Marshall. It was the man that came here
+yesterday with Peace Parker.”
+
+Peace stared at Clayton and around at the cattlemen, who were watching
+him, wondering what it meant. Peace went to Clayton and put a hand on
+his shoulder.
+
+“Clayton, are yuh sure of that?”
+
+“Just as sure as the world, Parker. I noticed that he was looking the
+place over yesterday.”
+
+“But he was masked, wasn’t he?” queried Cross L.
+
+Clayton nodded.
+
+“Yes, he was masked, but that was no disguise. He was wearing an old
+yellow velvet vest, a gray sombrero and a wide cartridge-belt which
+was studded with brass rivets. I even recognized his boots with the
+stitched tops.”
+
+Peace turned away and stared across the room. He knew that it had been
+Gus Sinks. Gus was square with him, but he was still a thief. Peace
+turned and looked at Cross L.
+
+“It was Gus Sinks. I brought him here yesterday to give him some money,
+Cross L. He rode North when I went to the Bar X Bar with Sorensen.”
+
+“Does that description cover him, Peace?” asked one of the men.
+
+Peace nodded.
+
+“Yes, that covers him.” Then to Clayton--“Tell us how he done it,
+Clayton.”
+
+Clayton squinted painfully and pointed toward the open door of the
+vault.
+
+“I had the vault open and was just coming out with some papers, when I
+happened to look up. I didn’t hear this man come in but there he stood,
+just inside the railing with his gun pointed at me.
+
+“I couldn’t hardly realize what it was all about. Then he motioned for
+me to turn around and go into the vault. I had to do it, gentlemen. He
+stepped in behind me and held a gun against my back while I unlocked
+the strong-boxes.
+
+“Yes, he ordered me to do it. Then he must have hit me over the head
+with his gun.”
+
+Clayton rubbed his hand tenderly over his bandages.
+
+“I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but when I woke up he was
+gone.
+
+“I was so weak I couldn’t stand up; so I crawled half out of the vault,
+when Hazelton discovered me. I think the robber intended to lock me in
+the vault, because the bolts were thrown. In his haste to escape, he
+accidentally threw the bolts and was unable to shut the door.”
+
+Peace went over to the vault door. The bolts were still blocking it. He
+examined it closely.
+
+One of the cattlemen laughed shortly. “Lookin’ for finger-prints,
+Peace?”
+
+Peace smiled grimly and shook his head.
+
+“Wouldn’t do us any good, Pierce.”
+
+“You wouldn’t find any,” said Clayton. “He wore gloves.”
+
+“Well,” observed Cross L hopefully, “if he didn’t get to the Pass ahead
+of the boys, he’s bottled up in the valley.”
+
+“Plenty of places to hide,” declared Peace. “He can take his time and
+get away. What we’ve got to do is to curry this old valley until a
+chipmunk couldn’t get away.”
+
+As they started out of the door, Hazelton met them at the door, and with
+him was a ten-year-old boy.
+
+“Say, this kid seen him!” blurted Hazelton. “He seen that robber after
+he got the money.”
+
+“Where was he?” asked Cross L.
+
+“Well, I seen a man, but I dunno whether he was the one,” said the boy.
+“This’n had his horse tied just the other side of the schoolhouse. I
+seen him get on his horse and he had a big bundle in his arms.”
+
+“What did he look like?” asked Peace.
+
+“I don’t just remember,” confessed the boy, “but I know he had on a gray
+hat and a fancy belt. I seen the sun sparkle on that belt. And he had a
+sorrel horse that singlefooted.”
+
+Peace nodded to the men.
+
+“That’s the horse.”
+
+“Was the man wearin’ a mask, Buddy?” queried Cross L.
+
+“No. I wasn’t close enough to see his face, but he didn’t have no mask
+on that I could see.”
+
+“He’d take it off right away,” said one of the men. “He likely slipped
+it on when he went in and slipped it off as soon as he got outside.”
+
+“Didja notice which way he went, Buddy?” asked Peace.
+
+“He went up the valley, but he didn’t seem to go in a hurry. Just kinda
+singlefooted along.”
+
+“He’s a smart son-of-a-gun,” admitted Cross L. “Didn’t do anythin’ to
+attract attention. Likely went ---- for-leather as soon as he got out of
+sight. Prob’ly twisted off the road and circled into the hills. Mebbe
+the boys’ll beat him to the Pass. If they don’t--we’re about half-out of
+money around here.”
+
+“Half-out, ----!” snorted Billy Pierce, who owned the Crescent outfit.
+“If they don’t nail him, I won’t have money enough to pay my two
+punchers a month’s salary. I might have to sell a cow or two to make a
+payday.”
+
+“You’d have a ---- of a time sellin’ one to me,” said Cross L sadly. “I
+might be able to trade, but I couldn’t buy the hole in a doughnut.”
+
+“I reckon that about covers us all,” said another.
+
+“It’s a hard old world, and few of us ever get out of it alive,”
+observed Peace seriously. “I feel that I’m partly to blame. I brought
+Gus Sinks here with me. Why, he didn’t even know we had a bank here.”
+
+The cattleman smiled grimly. Peace remembered that he had told Gus Sinks
+that the Pasiooks bank was the richest little bank in the state and that
+Sinks had seemed interested in that fact.
+
+He and Cross L stood around awhile and listened to arguments, pro and
+con, which arrived at nothing. Then they got their horses and headed
+for the Cross L ranch. There was nothing they could do just now.
+
+“You’ll have to hire somebody to take your sheep,” observed Cross L as
+they rode home, “or will yuh go out and sell ’em, like yuh intended to
+do?”
+
+“I dunno, Cross L,” Peace shook his head. “It kinda hurts me to think
+that Gus Sinks done this job to us folks. He’s an ignorant son-of-a-gun
+and he don’t know any better than to do wrong most of the time, but I
+trusted him--kinda.”
+
+“In God we trust,” quoted Cross L. “That’s the only safe thing to do.”
+
+Marshall went straight to Jess with the news of the robbery, but Peace
+did not go up to the house with him.
+
+“We had fifteen thousand dollars in that bank, Jess,” he added, after he
+had explained the robbery. “It kinda crimps us.”
+
+“But they will catch the robber, won’t they?” she asked.
+
+“I’m hopin’ fifteen thousand dollars worth, Jess. He had a fair start,
+but he might ’a’ circled far enough to let the boys beat him to the
+Pass.”
+
+“Who went up there?”
+
+“Le Page, Hyatt, Jud Smith and Frank Campion.”
+
+Jess nodded thoughtfully.
+
+“I reckon I forgot to tell yuh that Peace is leavin’ us, Jess,” said
+Marshall slowly.
+
+She looked up quickly at him--
+
+“Leaving us?”
+
+Marshall nodded.
+
+“Yeah.”
+
+“What for, Dad?”
+
+“Well,” Marshall squinted thoughtfully, “well, he said he kinda wanted
+t’ see what’s on the other side of the hill. Mebbe he’s tired of the
+valley, Jess.”
+
+She walked to the door and stared across the hills.
+
+“I don’t blame him,” continued Marshall. “Sometimes a feller does
+kinda itch to see the other side of the hill. Says he’s goin’ down
+into Arizona. He ain’t much of a hand to write letters; so we won’t
+likely hear from him. I’m kinda glad t’ see him go, m’self.”
+
+Cross L picked up his hat and walked quietly out through the kitchen,
+leaving Jess still staring out of the door. He went out through the
+rear entrance, slapped his hat on his head and grinned wickedly.
+
+“I’ll betcha that’ll hold her for a while,” he chuckled and went down to
+the barn to find something to swear at.
+
+It was after dark that night when Sheriff Houston and Barney McManus
+stopped at the Cross L on their way to Pasiooks. They had ridden
+straight in from Tarp City, but had left the Pass guarded.
+
+“Gus Sinks, eh?” grunted Houston, after Cross L had told them what he
+knew about the robbery. “Well that gives us one man to look for. He’s
+likely hid out here in the valley and will wait for a chance to get
+out.”
+
+“He don’t know the valley, though,” objected Peace. “Never was in here
+before.”
+
+“That helps some,” grinned Barney. “Mebbe the danged fool is tryin’ to
+cross the range.”
+
+“Likely tryin’ to get back on to the Fossilshell,” observed Houston.
+“He knows that country like a book and he’d likely get protection over
+there. Mebbe he’d hit for the Sun Prairie country.”
+
+They rode on toward Pasiooks, and it was about dark when Jim Horn and
+Bert Hart rode in at the ranch. They had run into one of the searchers
+further down the valley and had spent the rest of the day riding the
+hills. None of their party had even the slightest clue to where the
+robber had gone.
+
+“We was with Blackie Erne,” laughed Jim, “but he never mentioned the
+tin can. Bender and Mehl was with two of the boys from the Crescent,
+but we didn’t see ’em. This is the most excitin’ day I ever seen in
+this old valley. Whatcha think about Gus Sinks, Peace? I’ll say that
+he’s a real cute little jasper. I betcha he’s got more money than he
+could ever count.”
+
+“I hope he stopped to count it,” grunted Cross L angrily.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+For two more days the cowboys searched out every corner of the valley.
+In twos and threes they combed it; making a drive of the entire country,
+but nothing came of it. Peace had said no more to Cross L about leaving
+the ranch, and Cross L was careful not to mention it.
+
+Jess had said nothing to Peace. In fact, they had not spoken half a
+dozen words to each other since her father had said that Peace was
+going away.
+
+But in spite of the fact that there was no trace of Gus Sinks, the
+cowboys still guarded the Pass and stopped every one going through.
+There was always the chance that Gus Sinks was hidden away, waiting
+the time when the cattlemen would relax their vigilance.
+
+Then Peace Parker acted abruptly. He saddled his own horse, tied his
+war-bag behind the cantle and went up to the ranchhouse. Cross L had
+seen him tie the sack to the saddle and knew that Peace Parker was
+leaving the Valley of the Chinook.
+
+Peace had already told Jim and Bert good-by. They were sitting on the
+bunkhouse steps waiting for him to leave. Cross L Marshall got to his
+feet and looked awkwardly at Peace, who put one hand on the old man’s
+shoulder.
+
+“Yo’re goin’, are yuh?” asked Marshall.
+
+Peace nodded.
+
+“Yeah, I’m goin’, Cross L. I reckon that the other side of the hill is
+callin’ me.”
+
+“I s’pose,” Marshall sighed heavily and looked keenly at Peace. “You’ve
+got a few days’ pay comin’, Peace.”
+
+“Thasall right. I’ll come back and collect it some day.”
+
+“By grab, I’d keep it if I thought yuh would, Peace.”
+
+“Keep it and see if I do,” smiled Peace, and looked toward the door
+where Jess was standing. He turned to her and held out his hand.
+
+“Are you going away?” she asked slowly.
+
+“Yeah, I’m goin’, Jess.”
+
+They looked steadily at each other for several moments, as they shook
+hands. It was an awkward situation. Cross L Marshall began to have
+throat trouble again and Peace grinned widely.
+
+“’S funny,” said Peace slowly, “but folks never seem to be able to
+say much when they’re sayin’ good-by. I reckon I’ll be siftin’ along,
+folks.”
+
+He turned on his heel and went down the steps, but stopped at the bottom
+and looked back at Jess.
+
+“Be good to yoreself, Jess,” he said softly, “mebbe I’ll see yuh
+sometime.”
+
+He glanced at Cross L and went toward the barn, where Jim and Bert were
+coming to meet him. Cross L looked at Jess, his mustache bristling
+belligerently, but she was looking at Peace Parker.
+
+“Aw, ----!” exploded Cross L. “That’s what vas-leen does.” He shook
+a finger in the general direction of the barn and spat viciously,
+“Vas-leen and per-fumed notes! By ----!”
+
+He struck the porch post with a clenched fist.
+
+“If you think for one ---- minute that you--aw, ----!”
+
+Jess had turned and looked at him, her eyes filled with tears. They
+looked at each other for a minute before she turned and went into the
+house.
+
+Peace Parker was riding away now, and he waved back at Cross L Marshall,
+who looked at him and half-waved one hand as though in doubt. He glanced
+back at the open door and then at Peace Parker.
+
+“I dunno,” he told himself, “I dunno which one of yuh is the biggest
+darned fool, but I reckon it’s horse-and-horse. Good-by, you homely
+son-of-a-gun. I hope yuh don’t find nothin’ on the other side of the
+hill and have to come back for the rest of yore salary.”
+
+Peace went slowly up the valley road, which wound in and out of the
+hollows. He had no idea of where he was going after disposing of his
+sheep. The Valley of the Chinook was home to him--the only real home
+he had ever known, and it was with a dull ache in his heart that he
+rode up the steep grades that led to Poncho Pass and looked back down
+the misty length of the finest cattle range in the world.
+
+Below him he could see the silvery flash of sunlight on the headwaters
+of the Chinook river, and on each side the green, rolling hills,
+dotted with clumps of dark trees, faded away into the blue haze of the
+distance. It was good to look upon and Peace Parker feasted his eyes
+upon it before riding on into the tall crags of the Pass which would
+cut off his view.
+
+As he rode into the narrow defile which was the Pass three men stepped
+into the road in front of him. It was Dud LePage, “Baldy” Hyatt and
+Frank Campion, and each of them was carrying a rifle.
+
+Peace stopped and grinned at them.
+
+“Hyah, Peace,” greeted Le Page, a big, raw-boned, grizzled cowboy,
+grinning back at Peace.
+
+“Hello, Dud. Still guardin’ the Pass, eh?”
+
+LePage nodded and grounded his rifle.
+
+“Yeah, we’re not takin’ any chances, Peace. Are yuh travelin’ or goin’
+somewhere?”
+
+“Travelin’,” grinned Peace. “I’m leavin’ the valley.”
+
+“Naw!”
+
+Baldy Hyatt removed his hat and polished the shiny top of the head that
+gave him a nickname.
+
+“You ain’t leavin’ us for good, are yuh?”
+
+Peace nodded quickly.
+
+“I reckon so, Baldy.”
+
+Frank Campion had taken no part in the conversation, and Hyatt turned to
+him.
+
+“You know Peace Parker, don’tcha, Campion?”
+
+Campion nodded indifferently.
+
+“Yes, I know him.”
+
+Hyatt and LePage glanced at each other quickly, but turned back to
+Peace.
+
+“She don’t seem right that yo’re leavin’ us,” said Hyatt. “Cripes, I
+thought yuh was personal property of the Cross L.”
+
+The inference was plain, because every one in the valley surmised that
+Peace was to marry Jess Marshall. Peace only grinned and shifted in his
+saddle.
+
+“Yeah,” he replied. “I been thinkin’ of takin’ a trip for quite a
+while.”
+
+“Well, yo’re comin’ back, ain’tcha?” asked Hyatt.
+
+“No-o-o, I reckon not, Baldy--not for a while; so I’ll tell yuh good-by
+and be on my way.”
+
+He held out his hand and shook hands with Baldy and LePage, while
+Campion looked on indifferently. But when Peace started on Campion
+stepped in front of him.
+
+“You know why we’re here, Parker, and you know that we’re not letting
+any one go out of the valley without bein’ sure about them. You’ve got
+a bundle behind your saddle.”
+
+“Yeah, I have,” Peace squinted at Campion closely.
+
+“----’s bells!” snorted Hyatt. “Why Peace Parker is----”
+
+“That makes no difference,” retorted Campion. “We’re not here for our
+health.”
+
+“No, it kinda looks like you wasn’t,” agreed LePage warmly. “Do yuh
+suspect Peace Parker? Ha, ha! Ha, ha!”
+
+“What is in that bundle, Parker?” demanded Campion angrily.
+
+“A couple of shirts, a pair of socks, some overalls and a couple of
+blankets. Oh, yeah, there’s a necktie, too. Do yuh want to try and
+search it, Campion?”
+
+Peace was leaning forward in his saddle, his right arm crooked at the
+elbow. Campion had seen him in that same position before, and he knew
+that Peace Parker was a very sudden person with a gun.
+
+“No,” Campion shook his head, “I don’t want to search you.”
+
+Peace nodded and rode on through the Pass, while Baldy and LePage
+congratulated Campion on his lack of curiosity. Campion smarted under
+their rough humor, but knew better than to incur their enmity.
+
+“What I don’t _sabe_ is why he’s leavin’ here,” complained Baldy. “I
+thought that him and Jess Marshall was goin’ to hook up for life.”
+
+“Yeah, I heard they was goin’ to get married,” nodded LePage. “She could
+do a dang lot worse, y’betcha!”
+
+“He is not going to marry Miss Marshall,” stated Campion.
+
+“How do yuh know?” queried Baldy.
+
+“Because I am going to marry her myself.”
+
+“You are?” Baldy gasped audibly. “Whatcha know about that!”
+
+“What I just said goes as she lays,” said LePage seriously, and added,
+“I reckon she’s goin’ to.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Peace rode to Tarp City and spent the night there. Tarp City was not
+interested in the troubles of Chinook Valley, but Peace talked things
+over with Sheriff Houston who was of the opinion that Gus Sinks had got
+out of the valley ahead of the posse of cowboys and made his escape into
+the Fossilshell.
+
+The next morning Peace saddled his horse and headed for the Sun Prairie
+country which was located north and east of Tarp City and about fifteen
+miles away.
+
+It was a desolate, sheeped-out country of bald buttes, swept clean of
+verdure and smelling strongly of sheep. Bands of sheep, marked by dust
+clouds, were moving about the hills. The road was entirely blotted out
+by the passing of numberless sheep. Peace had no idea of where he
+might find his band of sheep, so he swung into the hills and accosted
+the first sheepherder he ran across.
+
+The man confessed total ignorance. Peace explained that the herd was
+marked with a painted cross on their backs, but this meant nothing in
+the life of this sheepherder.
+
+Peace spent the whole day, riding from place to place, but no one could
+tell him where the cross-marked band was located. Finally he wrinkled
+his long nose in disgust and headed for Tarp City.
+
+“I reckon I just dreamed that I owned sheep,” he reflected as he swung
+along the side of a bald butte, which had been cultivated by the sharp
+hooves. Below him, a band of sheep were moving slowly southward, an
+indistinct mass in the clouds of dust stirred up by their passing.
+
+Peace rode down, intending to pass them, but he happened to see his
+own brand on the back of a wooly straggler. The herder was a man about
+middle-age, gray as a badger, and with a scar running from above his
+left temple to a spot near the left corner of his mouth.
+
+It gave him a leering expression, which did not belie the evil of the
+rest of his countenance. He carried a Winchester rifle in the crook of
+his arm and looked suspiciously at Peace Parker.
+
+“Kind of a dusty job, ain’t it?” grinned Peace.
+
+“Yeah, yuh bet it is,” agreed the man.
+
+Peace sized him up and looked at the sheep. Surely this was not the
+Basque herder spoken of by Gus Sinks, thought Peace.
+
+“Feed gettin’ pretty short, ain’t it?” asked Peace.
+
+“---- short!”
+
+The herder motioned a dog to pick up some stragglers, and they watched
+the trained sheep-dog round them up and close up the rear of the band.
+
+“I wonder if there’s any chance to pick up some cheap woolies,” said
+Peace. “Must be money in ’em now.”
+
+“Not much.” The man spat dryly.
+
+It was dry work following that drifting herd.
+
+“Who owns this herd?”
+
+The herder squinted up at Peace, looking narrowly at him.
+
+“I do,” he grunted.
+
+“Don’t want to sell ’em, do you?”
+
+“No. Just bought ’em myself.”
+
+“Just?” queried Peace.
+
+“Huh?” He squinted at Peace again.
+
+“How long ago did yuh buy ’em?”
+
+“Long ago?”
+
+The sheep-herder repeated that much of the question and looked away for
+a moment. Then--
+
+“What’s it to you, stranger?”
+
+“Well,” Peace grinned widely, “yuh see, there’s been a lot of
+sheep-herders sellin’ off stock that don’t belong to ’em, and I’m here
+investigatin’.”
+
+“I _sabe_. Hired by the sheep men, eh?”
+
+Peace did not say, but the shepherd dug into the inside pocket of his
+vest and drew out a soiled paper.
+
+“I reckon you’ll find that this is all right,” he said as he handed
+Peace the paper.
+
+It was a bill of sale for three thousand sheep, in favor of John Smith,
+and was signed by Gus Sinks. Peace studied it closely and handed it back
+to the man.
+
+“All right?”
+
+The sheep-herder looked closely at Peace as he tucked the paper back
+into his pocket.
+
+Peace nodded.
+
+“Yeah, it’s made out properly, I reckon. Yuh see, we’ve got to be
+careful.”
+
+“That’s right.”
+
+The man smiled broadly for the first time and seemed at ease.
+
+“I suppose there’s crooked work done every little while.”
+
+“Yeah--every little while. Well, I’ve got to be movin’ on. You headin’
+for Tarp City?”
+
+“Uh-huh. Slow work movin’ sheep, but I’ll likely be in there by noon
+tomorrow.”
+
+Peace nodded and rode around the band, which had belonged to him. He
+could still prove ownership. He had plenty of witnesses to prove that
+Gus Sinks was only a hired man, but he was not going to argue with
+this man.
+
+He rode back to Tarp City and went to Sheriff Houston. He told
+Houston what had happened to the sheep, and Houston exploded over
+the information. But Peace merely grinned and asked Houston to do
+nothing.
+
+“Well, yuh ain’t goin’ to let ’em get away with anythin’ like that, are
+yuh?” demanded Houston.
+
+“It ain’t hardly ethical,” agreed Peace, “but let’s not say anythin’
+about it.”
+
+“Well, they’re yore sheep,” agreed Houston wearily. “If you want to be a
+Santa Claus to some ---- sheep-herder, go ahead, Peace.”
+
+As they came out to the door of the office a middle-aged man, wearing a
+black suit and a wide, black hat, came up to them. He was not a
+pleasant-looking man with his square chin and thin-lipped mouth beneath
+a broad, flat nose.
+
+“I beg your pardon,” he said crisply. “I am a stranger around here--a
+cattle buyer--and I came here to get some information.”
+
+“Well,” replied Houston bruskly, “we’ll listen and do our dangdest.”
+
+A slight smile flashed across the stranger’s lips and he nodded
+slightly.
+
+“Fair enough. I wanted some information on Chinook Valley. I understand
+that a lot of cows are shipped out of there and I wanted to find out who
+was handling their stuff, and whether it would be worth my while going
+in to talk with them.”
+
+Houston looked keenly at him and motioned to Peace.
+
+“Parker knows every inch of the place and he’d know.”
+
+“Well,” smiled Peace, “I know the place, but I’m darned if I could
+answer yuh, stranger. I don’t reckon that any buyer has a cinch on the
+output, and if your prices are right yuh might do business.”
+
+“Fair enough. Who are the big owners?”
+
+Peace gave him the names of several cattlemen and he wrote the names in
+a note-book. Then he thanked them both and went back across the street.
+
+“A husky lookin’ jasper,” commented Houston.
+
+Peace nodded and studied the back of the man. There was a peculiar
+stiffness about his walk that betokened the fact that the man had
+spent much time in the saddle. He twisted slightly at the hips at
+each step, and Peace drew a mental picture of this same man in chaps
+and high-heeled boots.
+
+“Old time cow-man,” observed Peace to himself. “Betcha he was a
+go-getter in his time.”
+
+Some cowboys were riding in from the Fossilshell and waved at Houston as
+they came past. Peace strolled up the street to a restaurant and went in
+to eat. He was short of money and wondered just what he was going to do.
+
+His savings had all been in the Pasiooks bank and now he was unable to
+sell off his sheep.
+
+“Looks kinda like I was goin’ to have to forget the other side of the
+hill for a while,” he reflected.
+
+After his meal he went over to the Tarp City saloon. The strange cattle
+buyer was drinking with some of the men from the Fossilshell--or rather,
+they were drinking with him. Peace sat down against the wall and watched
+the activities in the place.
+
+In about fifteen minutes Frank Campion came in. He saw Peace Parker but
+did not speak. One of the cowboys called to him and he joined their
+party. Peace heard them tell the buyer that Campion was from the Chinook
+Valley, and they began talking prices.
+
+After a few more rounds of drinks Campion and the buyer went outside.
+It was growing dusk. Peace got up and went out just in time to see them
+disappear into the livery-stable. He crossed the street to the front of
+Carney’s store where he leaned against a post until the two men came
+out, leading a saddled horse. Campion went to the hitch-rack, mounted
+his horse and joined the cattle-buyer.
+
+“That’s funny,” reflected Peace. “Campion came in with a thirst and the
+stranger was half-loaded, but they’re leavin’ it behind. I never seen a
+cow-man with a thirst that was so anxious to sell stock that he’d quit
+drinkin’ to make a sale.”
+
+Peace swung across the street, untied his horse and got into the saddle.
+Without showing undue haste he rode down the street, but as soon as he
+was clear of Tarp City he shook up his horse and hit the Poncho Pass
+grades at a stiff gallop.
+
+There was no real reason for Peace following these two men except that
+he was a student of cowboy nature and was following what might be called
+a “hunch.” It was the same feeling that causes a gambler to back a poor
+hand to the finish, feeling that something unforeseen will happen.
+
+In a few minutes he reached a straight piece of road and saw Campion
+and the stranger ahead of him. They were riding at a stiff gallop. He
+drew up slightly, but did not slacken speed too much.
+
+As he swept around a curve, going more cautiously, he suddenly jerked
+his horse to a standstill. Campion and the stranger had left the road
+and were climbing up the broken hog-back, heading toward the secret
+trail.
+
+Peace turned and spurred his horse back around the curve, out of sight
+of the two men, in case they might look back.
+
+“Now, what do yuh think of that?” grunted Peace to himself wonderingly.
+“That son-of-a-gun trailed me through that place and now he’s takin’ a
+cattle-buyer in the same way.”
+
+There was no way of explaining it. As far as Peace could see there was
+no reason for Campion to take this man into the Valley by a route which
+was kept secret. It would take at least an hour longer to go in by the
+trail than by the road so he knew that they were not going in that way
+as a short-cut.
+
+The two men had disappeared now, and Peace knew that their view of the
+grades had been shut off, so he spurred ahead toward the Pass, going
+back into the valley he had left but a short time before.
+
+No one guarded the road now, or, if they did, they were not stopping
+any one going toward the valley. He topped the Pass and took it easier
+on the down grades. He knew he could head the two riders without any
+trouble.
+
+The valley was flooded with moonlight now and his galloping horse made
+little sound on the dust-padded road. Mile after mile he reeled off
+before he came to the spot where he left the road and headed into the
+hills.
+
+An examination of the old cattle-trail showed that the riders were
+still somewhere back in the mountains; so he took it easier. Finally
+he reached the narrow cañon which wound back across the summit, and
+dismounted.
+
+He had reached a spot where the two riders must pass within a short
+distance from him. Here he had no chance of missing them, in case
+they came through. Farther down the slopes they might take their own
+direction into the valley, and he might fail to see them.
+
+He had left his horse in a thicket and stretched himself beside a
+granite outcropping. Above the Pass hung the moon like a great opal
+ball. Somewhere a night-bird called in a shrill voice, and far down
+the slopes a pair of owls hooted a duet.
+
+A wild-cat, in search of its evening meal, crossed the slope just above
+Peace, like a little gray shadow and melted into the jackpines. Peace
+grinned contentedly but wished that he might dare to roll a smoke.
+
+Then, from a point far above him, he heard the murmur of voices, as if
+two men were arguing. It was impossible for him to distinguish voices
+or words but he knew that it was Campion and the cattle-buyer.
+
+But they did not come on down the slope. The voices ceased and he did
+not hear them again. Half an hour passed and still the two riders did
+not appear.
+
+Peace rubbed his chin and wondered at the why and wherefore of it all.
+Tired of inaction he untied his horse, swung into the saddle and headed
+for the rocky pass. He had made up his mind to challenge Campion for
+what he had already done and leave the outcome in the hands of fate.
+
+He had almost reached the rocky defile, when he looked back down the
+slope. Three indistinct figures emerged from the timbered slope and
+came toward him. They were three mounted men.
+
+Peace dropped off his horse and led it into the shadow of a cliff,
+holding a hand over its nostrils. The riders came on over the rocky
+edge, passing close to Peace. They were talking openly, and Peace
+recognized them as being Bender, Mehl and Erne.
+
+They went past him and into the defile, traveling slowly.
+
+“It’s a ---- good thing he showed us the way in daylight,” grunted
+Bender. “The ---- himself couldn’t find it at night.”
+
+“And there’d be ---- to pay if Chinook Valley knew that we was wise to
+it,” added Erne, chuckling loudly.
+
+Peace grinned to himself. He knew that Campion had showed his men where
+the secret trail was located--and for some mighty good reason.
+
+“Mebbe,” reflected Peace, “they framed up to keep me from usin’ the road
+that evenin’, and it was all planned to have Campion see if there was
+another way in. But why do they come through here?”
+
+He waited until they had passed out of earshot and mounted again. He
+traveled slowly now, although he felt sure that they did not suspect
+his presence. Just short of the end of the defile he drew rein.
+
+In the notch of the cañon, silhouetted against the sky, were the
+riders. He could see them all now. It was impossible for him to
+approach nearer without danger of discovery. They were evidently
+arguing about something, as he could see one of them waving his arms
+at times, and their voices came in bursts of indistinct words.
+
+Then they seemed to group together and disappear to the right of the
+defile. Peace moved ahead, wondering at their intentions. They should
+have gone to the left to get back to the road.
+
+He went slowly out to the edge of the defile where the eastern slope of
+the mountain began and watched closely. Far below him he could hear the
+horses moving through the brush, the sound getting more faint all the
+time, as the riders went down the hill.
+
+“Goin’ down a new way so they won’t have to take a chance of bein’
+seen from the road,” he decided, after thinking it over. “No reason
+why yuh couldn’t go that way, except that it’s a long, hard trip and
+a roundabout way to Tarp City. But what does it all mean?”
+
+Peace humped in his saddle and tried to reason it out. Why should
+Campion take a stranger up there, he wondered? And why did Bender,
+Mehl and Erne meet them there?
+
+From what Bender had said, it was reasonable to suppose that the
+meeting was by appointment. But why? And was the meeting of Campion
+and the cattle-buyer premeditated? Peace shook his head and took the
+left-hand side of the cañon, heading back to Tarp City.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+That same night Chris Sorensen and Jim Claypool, the owner of the
+Wagon Wheel outfit, the last ranch at the southern end of the valley,
+came to the Cross L. Claypool was a dark-faced, somber-eyed sort of an
+individual, prone to arguments and settled in his convictions. Usually
+he prefaced his objections by saying, “Yeah, but--” and this habit had
+caused him to be known as “Yeabut” Claypool.
+
+Since Peace Parker had left the ranch Cross L Marshall had chewed much
+tobacco and uttered many strange and wonderful oaths. He even swore at
+Saleratus who promised to feed him ground glass at mealtime. Saleratus
+felt as bad over the departure of Peace Parker as any of them, and he
+said he’d be ----ed if anybody was goin’ to rag him when he felt
+melancholy.
+
+And Cross L was in no mood to enjoy visitors. Sorensen and Claypool sat
+down in the living-room and tried to appear at ease. Jess had wanted to
+take their hats, but they assured her that it was hardly necessary.
+
+“Well, whatcha got on yore minds?”
+
+Cross L knew that it was not merely a friendly visit so he wanted them
+to come right to the point.
+
+“Well,” Claypool twisted his hat nervously and cleared his throat,
+“well, I been talkin’ to Chris, yuh see. Me and him has been kinda
+talkin’.”
+
+“That’s fine,” agreed Cross L, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “Shows
+that yuh both got vocal cords.”
+
+Claypool squinted at Cross L, but that worthy was as serious as an
+undertaker.
+
+“Yeah, we’ve been talkin’--me and Chris.”
+
+“Well, for ----’s sake, I hope yuh didn’t come up here to brag about
+it!” exploded Cross L.
+
+“It was about the bank robbery,” prompted Sorensen.
+
+“Oh, I see.”
+
+“Yeah, but mebbe yuh don’t see,” said Claypool, glad of the opening.
+
+“Me and Chris got to talkin’ about the robbery. Yuh see, Peace Parker
+brought that Sinks down to Pasiooks. I hear that Sinks was Parker’s
+hired man.”
+
+“That ain’t got nothin’ to do with the robbery.”
+
+“Yeah, but mebbe it has, Marshall. This here hired man robs the bank,
+makes his getaway and we lose all our money, don’t we?”
+
+“I did,” said Cross L dryly.
+
+“We all did, as far as that’s concerned,” agreed Sorensen.
+
+“Yeah, but that ain’t what I’m drivin’ at,” stated Claypool. “This here
+hired man does the job. It ain’t but a danged short time until Peace
+Parker pulls----”
+
+“Whop!”
+
+Cross L shot out of his chair and leaned over Claypool, who stared up at
+him.
+
+“Dang yuh, don’tcha say it, Yeabut!” roared Cross L.
+
+“Well!” exploded Claypool wonderingly. “You knowed what I meant without
+me sayin’ it, Marshall.”
+
+“You said it,” corrected Marshall slowly, “but don’tcha say it agin.”
+
+“Yeah, but what became of Sinks? Why did Parker pull out?”
+
+Marshall squinted away and reached back for his chair. Jess was sitting
+in a rocking-chair beside the table, and now he looked directly at her,
+but she did not look up.
+
+“Why?” Marshall shook his head. “I dunno exactly, but he said he wanted
+to see the other side of the hill.”
+
+“Zasso?” queried Claypool. “I suppose that Sinks is on the other----”
+
+“Hol’ on!” rasped Marshall threateningly. “If you make another remark
+agin’ Peace Parker, I’ll slap yuh to a peak and slap the peak off.”
+
+“Izzat so!”
+
+“Now, have a little sense,” begged Sorensen. “Fightin’ won’t get us
+nowhere. Let’s look at this just as though we didn’t know Peace Parker
+a-tall, will yuh?”
+
+“Can’t be done,” declared Cross L. “I know him, and I’ll be ----ed if I
+can make m’self talk like I didn’t.”
+
+“Yeah, but--listen.” Claypool leaned forward and cleared his throat.
+“Yuh got to admit the facts, Marshall. He didn’t leave here for
+nothin’, did he? He was yore foreman. He had some money of his own in
+the Pasiooks bank. I found that out from Clayton.
+
+“Parker went away for good, didn’t he? Yeah? Then why didn’t he try to
+get the money that the bank owed him? He just rode away, thasall. Looks
+kinda queer to me. Looks kinda queer to a lot of folks, Marshall.”
+
+“Yeah?” Marshall’s mustache bristled belligerently. “Looks kinda queer,
+eh? Lotsa things look queer to yuh, don’t they, Claypool? F’r instance,
+it looks queer to yuh that the earth is round, don’t it? That’s ’cause
+yo’re a slant-eyed yaller-hammer and thinks that everythin’ is flat if
+it ain’t got corners for yuh to feel of.”
+
+“Naw, I ain’t no slant-eyed nothin’!” snorted Claypool. “I’ve got a lot
+of _sabe_, and this whole thing looks like it was all framed up. I ain’t
+got nothin’ pers’nal agin’ Peace Parker. Why, I heard that he rode out
+of here with a big bundle behind his saddle. Le Page, Hyatt and Campion
+stopped him on Poncho Pass and Campion wanted to search the bundle, but
+Parker bluffed him.
+
+“Le Page and Hyatt kinda stood in with Parker and Campion didn’t want to
+start nothin’ alone.”
+
+“Yuh dang well know he didn’t!” grinned Marshall. “He monkeyed with that
+buzz-saw once and got in a jam.”
+
+“Well,” observed Sorensen wearily, “we ain’t gettin’ no place,
+Claypool,” and then to Marshall, “Cross L, you know danged well that
+I liked Peace Parker. He’s a ---- of a nice feller, but in a case
+like this yuh got to put yore feelin’s behind yuh.
+
+“I can see things like Claypool does, and--I dunno,” Sorensen shrugged
+his shoulders and got to his feet. “I don’t accuse nobody--nor trust
+’em. If Peace Parker didn’t have no reason, except to see the other side
+of the hill, I’d say that we ought to kinda find out for ourselves what
+he aimed to find over there.”
+
+It was a long speech for Sorensen and he was winded at the last word.
+Claypool got to his feet and put on his hat.
+
+“I’m goin’ to Tarp City,” declared Claypool, “and I’m goin’ to put the
+facts up to Sheriff Houston. I’ve got a lot of Chinookers backin’ me in
+this; _sabe_? Goodnight.”
+
+They turned and went out of the door, closing it softly behind them.
+Cross L Marshall did not look up nor speak as they went out. Their
+horses’ hoofs sounded hollowly on the hard ground as they rode away.
+
+Marshall lifted his head and found Jess looking at him across the table.
+He started to speak, but changed his mind and got to his feet.
+
+“Dad, why didn’t you tell ’em why he left?” she asked softly. “It might
+save Peace a lot of trouble.”
+
+Cross L started for his bedroom, but turned at the door and looked back
+at her.
+
+“Would Peace tell ’em why he left?” he demanded.
+
+She did not reply. He turned and opened the door, but stopped with the
+knob in his hand and looked back at her.
+
+“Say, ain’t yuh kinda takin’ a lot of credit to yourself, Jess? How do
+we know why he left?”
+
+He turned quickly and went into his room, while Jess bent over her
+work. He had hurt her feelings badly with his two questions, but she
+forgave him quickly because she knew of his intense loyalty to Peace
+Parker, and that he had said what he did as a vent for his own anger
+against everything.
+
+In a few minutes he came out, drawing on his coat, but not soon enough
+to conceal the cartridge belt around his waist and the heavy Colt
+revolver in his holster.
+
+“Where are you going, dad?” she asked.
+
+“Nobody’s business!” he growled. “If anybody asks yuh where I’m
+gone--don’tcha tell ’em, Jess.”
+
+“How could I tell them?” wonderingly.
+
+“Because you know I’m goin’ to Tarp City. By grab, I’m goin’ to be
+there when Claypool opens his trap to Houston, and I’m goin’ to ram a
+hot six-gun barrel down among his vocal cords. I’m lookin’ for these
+Chinookers who are seein’ queer things, that’s what I’m lookin’ for.”
+
+He thumped toward the door, but Jess crossed the room and took him by
+the arm.
+
+“Dad, don’t do anything to cause trouble. Peace Parker wouldn’t want you
+to--and he can take care of himself.”
+
+Cross L squinted at her.
+
+“Thasso? Think he can, eh? Lemme tell yuh somethin’, Jess: when a danged
+fool’s mind gets in such a shape that he goes huntin’ for the other side
+of a hill, just because his best girl gets stuck on a vas-leen-haired
+dude--he--can’t--take--care--of--himself. Leggo my arm, young lady.”
+
+He flung open the door, stamped down the steps and headed for the barn.
+Jess shut the door softly behind him and went back to her work.
+
+Cross L was not a delicate handler of horses, and Jim Horn heard him
+swearing at the corral. It did not take Jim and Bert long to find
+out why Cross L was saddling a horse. In fact, Cross L told them in
+glowing, if profane terms, just why he was going to Tarp City.
+
+And without further explanation, Bert and Jim got their saddles. Old
+Cross L made no comment, but their hasty actions caused him to quit
+swearing long enough to chuckle to himself. A few minutes later they
+rode away from the ranch--heading toward Tarp City.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Peace went back to Tarp City and hung around the saloons until nearly
+daylight, but Campion and the cattle-buyer did not show up; neither did
+Bender, Mehl nor Erne put in an appearance.
+
+He ate an early breakfast at an all-night restaurant and rode out of
+town just before daylight, heading toward the Sun Prairie country.
+Peace wanted to have another talk with the sheepherder. Perhaps this
+man might know something about Gus Sinks, he thought.
+
+He expected to find the sheep-camp a few miles out of town, but he
+traveled almost into the Sun Prairie country without seeing anything
+of the sheep or the herder. The band had been following the road, and
+there was no reason for the herder to leave it. There was no chance of
+a short-cut, as the road ran almost in a straight line to Tarp City.
+
+Peace reached the spot where he had talked to the herder, and turned
+back.
+
+“Mebbe the son-of-a-gun recognized me and pulled out in a different
+direction,” he reflected uneasily.
+
+He did not want to lose sight of his own property. But there was no
+place for the man to hide them.
+
+There was no sheep range to the west, and if he drove them south or
+east he would encounter the line-riders of the Fossilshell. His only
+chance was either to keep them on Sun Prairie or ship them from Tarp
+City.
+
+“Got me fightin’ my own head,” observed Peace. “Mebbe I passed ’em.”
+
+He rode on slowly toward Tarp City, scanning the hills which were so
+bare of verdure that a grasshopper would have been visible at a great
+distance. About two miles from Tarp City he saw a rider coming toward
+him. He appeared to be in a great hurry and when he got closer Peace
+saw that it was Sheriff Houston.
+
+He drew up beside Peace and mopped his brow with the sleeve of his
+shirt.
+
+“Whatcha sweatin’ about, sheriff?” grinned Peace.
+
+“I sneaked out of town,” declared Houston seriously.
+
+He turned in his saddle and looked back.
+
+“I hope nobody seen me leave there, ’cause it might look bad.”
+
+“Looks bad when the sheriff has to sneak out,” admitted Peace seriously.
+
+“Yeah, that’s right. Now listen to me, Peace; they’re on your trail. I
+don’t need to open either one of my eyes to know ---- well that you’re
+innocent, but them danged----”
+
+“Innocent of what?” interrupted Peace quickly.
+
+“Aw-w-w, of havin’ anythin’ to do with that Pasiooks bank robbery. Lot
+of them ---- Chinookers got the idea that you and Gus Sinks was in
+cahoots on it, Peace. They point out the fact that you never went after
+your money and that you’re pullin’ out for good, and--aw, ----!”
+
+Houston stopped and mopped his brow. Peace stared at him for several
+moments and a grin widened his mouth.
+
+“It does look kinda like I was tryin’ to out-smart ’em, don’t it,
+Houston? Reckon they’ll put me in jail?”
+
+“---- right! That’s why I snuck out on ’em. Kinda had an idea yuh was
+up this way. Now,” Houston shook a finger at Peace, “you keep out of
+Tarp City, do yuh hear me? I’m danged if I want yuh clutterin’ up my
+jail. Them Chinookers will stick there in Tarp and likely get drunk.
+I’ll do a lot of huntin’, but ---- little findin’; _sabe_? Now you
+hit the grit, you homely son-of-a-gun!”
+
+“Buck, yo’re breakin’ the law,” observed Peace.
+
+“Let her break!”
+
+“Did they swear out a warrant for me?”
+
+“What’s that got to do with it?”
+
+“Uh-huh,” grunted Peace softly.
+
+He knew that Houston had the warrant in his pocket.
+
+“Where’s yore sheep?” asked Houston impatiently.
+
+“I dunno, Buck. Can’t find ’em anywhere.”
+
+“----, yuh can’t lose three thousand sheep! Here.”
+
+Houston took out a note-book and tore out a leaf.
+
+“You write me out an order, Peace. Date it yesterday, _sabe_? I’ll sell
+them sheep for yuh, and as soon as yuh send me an address I’ll send yuh
+the money.”
+
+“Buck, yo’re plumb white, but I can’t do it, I appreciate what you’d
+do for me, but I’ve kinda got a reason. We’ll let the sheep alone
+for a while, I reckon. You hunt for me, and I’ll hunt for what I can
+find.”
+
+“Well,” reluctantly, “if that’s the way yuh feel about it, Peace. I’ll
+swing wide and come in on the Fossilshell road. But, dang your hide,
+keep away from Tarp City. _Adios._”
+
+“Good-by, Buck.”
+
+The sheriff spurred his horse and swung to the left, heading for the
+Fossilshell road which went into town on the east side. Peace watched
+him until he faded out in the distance, and rode on.
+
+Peace reflected bitterly over what the sheriff had told him and wondered
+who composed the posse from the Chinook, but was forced to grin over the
+fact that it did look bad for him to leave there so soon after the
+robbery.
+
+“And I brought Gus Sinks in there, too,” he mused. “By golly, it sure
+looks bad. I knowed the bank was plumb broke; so I marked my savin’s
+off the book, but they didn’t see things my way. Well, I reckon I’ve
+got to prove an air-tight alibi or go to jail.”
+
+Peace did not know where to go so he followed practically the same route
+taken by the sheriff. He knew that it would only be a short time until
+the gang from Chinook would be hunting the country for him, and he was
+not in favor of giving them either a race or a battle.
+
+He struck the Fossilshell road about two miles out of Tarp City where he
+turned and rode slowly in the opposite direction. To the right of him
+stretched the brushy slopes of the hills which led to the mountains on
+the western side of the valley of the Chinook.
+
+Almost behind him and to the right he could see the spot where the
+secret trail--but a secret no longer--went through the high cliffs. It
+was miles away and hazy in the noontime heat. Suddenly he drew rein and
+scanned the dusty road.
+
+A herd of sheep had crossed there--crossed to the right-hand side of the
+road and were somewhere back in those brushy hills. It was evident that
+they had crossed but a short time before as there was no track of horse
+or vehicle since their passing.
+
+Peace swung off the road and followed them. It was easy to trail a band
+of a thousand sheep through the brush, and Peace followed them about two
+miles before finding them.
+
+They were scattered along the slopes of a small creek, feeding
+ravenously after their long drive. Peace grinned as he noticed that
+they were branded with a painted cross. It was his band of sheep and
+they were already dangerously close to the deadline of the
+Fossilshell.
+
+He knew that there was an old tumbledown ranch-house and corrals just
+above there in a big clearing, and that this would probably be where
+he would find the scarfaced herder.
+
+He rode down through the scattered band and crossed the little creek. On
+the further side he rode through the fringe of brush and came out into
+the opening. A few sheep were feeding out there and the sheepherder was
+engaged at a camp-fire beside the old ranch-house.
+
+He moved backward against the house, as Peace rode into sight, and
+watched him closely. Peace merely glanced toward him and looked back
+at the sheep. As he turned back his horse seemed to break down on one
+shoulder and whirl wildly, and from the old house came the whang of a
+rifle shot.
+
+Peace tried to jerk the horse to a standstill and to draw his gun, but
+he heard the thud of the next bullet into the horse, which went down in
+a headlong pitch.
+
+Peace tried to save himself by throwing himself away from the falling
+horse, but only succeeded in losing his six-shooter and ended up by
+having his left leg pinned under the animal. It was all done so quickly
+that he had little time to do anything.
+
+Peace had fallen flat on his back with his leg far enough under the
+horse to save his ankle but he was unable to move. It was possibly
+two minutes later that a shadow fell across his face and he twisted
+his head to look up at the scar-faced sheepherder, covering him with
+the Winchester.
+
+“I kinda wanted to be sure yuh didn’t have no gun.”
+
+Thus the sheepherder explained his slowness in making an appearance.
+He picked up Peace’s gun and shoved it inside the waist-band of his
+overalls.
+
+“It’s a good thing to be sure about,” admitted Peace calmly. “Now that
+yo’re satisfied--will yuh try and move that dead animal enough to let
+my foot loose?”
+
+“Can’tcha move your foot loose?”
+
+“Do I look like a person that needs somebody to wait on him?” retorted
+Peace.
+
+“No, I reckon yuh don’t.”
+
+The man walked away toward the house and came back in a few minutes with
+a coil of rope with which he proceeded to tie Peace’s arms to his side.
+
+“I’m cautious, I am,” he declared. “She’s a lot easier to rope yuh now,
+pardner. Don’t have to order yuh to so-and-so; _sabe_?”
+
+“You sure got the right idea,” applauded Peace. “I’d ’a’ never thought
+of that. But what’s it all about?”
+
+The scar-faced man laughed but did not reply while he managed to drag
+the inert mass of horse-flesh off Peace’s leg. Peace flexed his knee
+slowly and was glad to find that it was hardly injured at all.
+
+“What’s it about, eh?”
+
+The scar-faced man sat down on the saddle-fender and rolled a smoke.
+
+“You thought yuh was makin’ me believe that you was the sheep inspector,
+didn’t yuh? Pardner, I wasn’t born yesterday. I _sabe_ that there ain’t
+no such animal. Also--” he leered at Peace, “I knowed who yuh was all
+the time. My old friend Gus Sinks described yuh many a time.”
+
+“Then you knowed that these sheep didn’t belong to Gus, eh?”
+
+“’Course I knew it,” the man laughed throatily. “Me and Gus had that all
+fixed.”
+
+“Yeah?” Peace grinned widely. “Mind rollin’ me a smoke?”
+
+“Yuh do need waitin’ on, don’tcha? Well, I’ll----”
+
+“Untie my hands and I’ll roll my own.”
+
+“Any old time I do! Nope, I’ll roll ’em for yuh.”
+
+He rolled a cigaret, lighted it and put it between Peace’s teeth.
+
+“You sure busted up my poor bronc,” observed Peace sadly.
+
+“Yeah, but I wasn’t shootin’ at the ----ed horse.”
+
+The man was a frank sort of a murderer and Peace grinned at his honesty.
+
+“Well, I’m glad that yo’re a rotten shot, pardner.”
+
+“Oh, I ain’t so bad. I kinda hurried, thasall.”
+
+“Wasn’t lookin’ for me, eh?”
+
+“Wasn’t I? Huh! I sure was lookin’ for yuh. I knowed you’d trail me down
+here. I didn’t want to down yuh out in the open.”
+
+“Danged considerate of yuh,” observed Peace. “Whatcha goin’ to do with
+my sheep?”
+
+“Your sheep! Sa-a-ay, git that idea out of yore mind. These are my
+sheep; _sabe_? Well, as soon as I fix you a-plenty I’m goin’ to herd
+’em into Tarp City, throw ’em into a corral and sell out.”
+
+“Fix me a-plenty, eh?”
+
+“Y’betcha. What else can I do? I ain’t no ---- fool and I ain’t no
+shepherd. These sheep are worth a lot of money, don’tcha know it?
+Enough to keep me a long time.”
+
+“Pardner, I’ll make you a trade.”
+
+Peace spat out the remnant of his cigaret and grew serious.
+
+“You tell me where Gus Sinks is and I’ll give you a straight
+bill-of-sale to these sheep.”
+
+“Whatcha talkin’ about?” incredulously.
+
+“Just that. If you know anythin’ about me, you’ll know that I keep my
+word. You show me Gus Sinks and you can have these danged woolies.”
+
+The man shook his head.
+
+“Nothin’ like that, pardner. Gus is my bunkie and I won’t squeal on
+him.”
+
+“That’s danged square of yuh,” observed Peace dryly, “and I appreciate
+it in yuh. Just the same, I’d make the trade with yuh.”
+
+“Nope. I ain’t tradin’ t’day, Parker.”
+
+“Too bad. Yuh know I trusted Gus Sinks. How long have yuh known him?”
+
+The man reflected for a moment.
+
+“I dunno. Anyway, it’s a long time; too long to squeal on him.”
+
+“I see,” Peace sighed deeply. “I liked him, too. I’ve only knowed him a
+few months. You remind me of him a little.”
+
+“Thasso?”
+
+“Yeah. ’Course yuh don’t look like him, but that scar on his face is
+kinda like yours.”
+
+The man felt on his face and nodded slowly.
+
+“How’d he get the scar?” asked Peace.
+
+“I dunno. I never asked him.”
+
+“Got it in a fight, I know that much about it,” said Peace. “Said he
+lost the little finger off his left hand in the same fight. But Gus
+handled the truth kinda carelessly and I never believed him much.
+Likely lost his finger when he was learnin’ to split wood.”
+
+The man grinned and nodded.
+
+“That’s how he lost it. Gus told lots-a stories about that finger. I
+dunno how he got the scar on his face, but he likely got kicked by a
+cow.”
+
+Peace laughed softly over the troubles of Gus Sinks and watched his
+captor closely, as he said--
+
+“Well, whatcha goin’ to do next?”
+
+“I dunno.”
+
+The man seemed undecided but motioned Peace to get to his feet.
+
+“I’ll keep yuh in the old house for a while. I don’t want to rub yuh out
+right away--if yuh behave. Can’t let yuh loose, that’s a cinch. I ain’t
+got nothin’ agin’ yuh personally--except that yo’re in my way, and when
+folks git in my way, I usually fix ’em a-plenty.”
+
+“Where do you bury yore dead?” grinned Peace, stretching his long legs.
+
+“Ne’ mind where I plant ’em. You toddle along ahead of me and be glad
+that I’m in good humor t’day. I ain’t no mean _hombre_, but I don’t let
+nobody stand between me and a lot of money, yuh understand?”
+
+Peace went into the old tumble-down ranch-house and the scar-faced man
+motioned him to sit down in a corner. It was a dusty old place, with a
+broken floor, sway-backed roof and smelled strongly of pack-rats.
+
+Scar-face proceeded to hog-tie Peace, who was unable to make any
+resistance. Satisfied that the job was well done, the scar-faced man
+went back to his cooking.
+
+Peace squinted up at the sagging ceiling and a grin spread across his
+face. But Peace was not grinning over the fact that the roof sagged.
+Something had struck him as being funny and he chuckled to himself.
+
+“Anyway,” he reflected when his period of mirth had passed, “that posse
+of Chinookers ain’t liable to find me here. Every cloud has a silver
+linin’, if yuh only look at it in the right way. And if that shepherd
+is goin’ to bump me off, I hope he don’t wait until I get hungry enough
+to eat a mutton stew.”
+
+The scar-faced man shoved his head inside the door.
+
+“Gittin’ hungry?” he asked.
+
+Peace sniffed. There was an odor of frying mutton. He shook his head
+quickly.
+
+“Not for sheep meat.”
+
+“Huh! Before I git through with yuh, I’ll betcha you’ll be glad to eat
+sheep meat, Parker.”
+
+“I’ll betcha I won’t.”
+
+“Why won’tcha?”
+
+“’Cause,” grinned Peace, “I’ll be so old and toothless that I can’t chaw
+it.”
+
+The man laughed and went back to his fire. He was not without a sense of
+humor which was a lucky thing for Peace Parker.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was early that morning when Cross L Marshall arrived at Tarp City
+with his two cowboys, but Claypool and his men had already been there
+nearly an hour. They had secured a warrant which had been turned over
+to the sheriff.
+
+Houston had complained bitterly over being dragged out of bed at that
+time of night and had declined to make a search in the dark for Peace
+Parker. But as soon as they had gone he had made preparations to warn
+Peace, who had already gone toward Sun Prairie.
+
+Marshall was in just the right mood to do battle with Claypool or any
+of his crowd, which consisted of Chris Sorensen, Mike O’Neil and six
+cowpunchers. Mike owned the 77 outfit and a grim sense of justice, so
+he brought Sam Barill and Tony Laughlin, his two punchers, who were
+old gun-men.
+
+Cross L, Jim and Bert found them all in the Royal Saloon, drinking
+success to their affairs, with Claypool as toastmaster. He growled at
+sight of Cross L, and Cross L returned the growl with fair interest.
+
+“What are you doin’ down here?” demanded Claypool.
+
+“That’s some more of your ----ed business, I suppose,” observed Cross L.
+
+“Yeah--mebbe it is.” Claypool felt that there was strength in numbers
+and had little fear.
+
+“I don’t have to ask yuh what you’re doin’ here,” said Cross L. “You’ve
+done told me, Claypool. And I don’t mind tellin’ yuh that we’re here to
+hope real hard that yuh fall down on the job.”
+
+“Go ahead and hope,” grinned O’Neil. “We’ve got the sheriff on Parker’s
+trail.”
+
+“Lot of good that’ll do yuh,” said Jim Horn quickly. “Buck Houston
+couldn’t trail a load of hay through a mesquite thicket.”
+
+“Mebbe,” said Claypool meaningly, “he won’t have to trail him. Parker
+was here last night and he’s here yet.”
+
+“And you fellers ain’t went after him?”
+
+Cross L laughed scornfully and counted them.
+
+“Nine of yuh. Why didn’t yuh bring a dozen more and surround the town?
+Yuh might starve him out.”
+
+“That’s the sheriff’s business,” said Claypool.
+
+“And it took nine of yuh to come to see him, eh?” Thus Bert Hart
+sarcastically, “Yuh sure picked a swell bunch, Claypool. I s’pose it
+took nine of yuh to remember what yuh came for, didn’t it?”
+
+Claypool was mad. He hated to be ragged by these three men, but he
+knew that if this went much further some one was due to get hurt; so
+he invited the three to drink with them.
+
+This was profanely declined by Cross L who turned and led his men
+outside.
+
+“Claypool, yuh better stop ’em,” advised O’Neil quickly. “They’ll get to
+Parker ahead of the sheriff, if yuh don’t.”
+
+Claypool started toward the door but stopped and came back to the bar.
+
+“Why should I stop ’em?” he asked, emphasizing the personal pronoun.
+“You go and stop ’em, O’Neil.”
+
+But O’Neil turned back to the bar and poured out his drink.
+
+“Somebody ought to stop ’em,” observed Sorensen half-heartedly.
+
+“All right,” snapped Claypool, “you do it, Chris.”
+
+But Chris made no move to accept the commission. Every man at the bar
+knew that Cross L and his two men had gone to warn Peace Parker, but
+none of them felt in the mood to attempt to stop them.
+
+“I never came down here to do battle with anybody,” declared Claypool.
+“Marshall is one of our own people and he’s a danged old fool--but I
+don’t want to fight him.”
+
+“One alibi is as good as another,” grinned O’Neil, “so what you said
+goes for me, too. Let’s have another, gents.”
+
+“That’s a lot more sensible than fightin’,” observed a cowpuncher
+joyously.
+
+But Cross L did not find Peace Parker. He was not at either of the
+two hotels, and inquiries showed that he had not kept his horse in
+the livery-stable that night. They went down to Houston’s house and
+were informed that the sheriff was not at home.
+
+Barney McManus swore sleepily when they rapped on the door of the
+sheriff’s office where he slept, and disclaimed all knowledge of
+everything, except that he was sleepy.
+
+“I seen Peace yesterday afternoon,” said Barney yawning. “Frank Campion
+rode toward the Pass with a cattle-buyer and in a few minutes Peace rode
+the same way. Nossir, I ain’t seen him since.”
+
+“Peace headed back toward Chinook?” queried Cross L.
+
+“Well, he went that direction,” declared Barney. “And what in the ----
+do yuh want him for so badly?”
+
+“They think he was in cahoots with Gus Sinks.”
+
+“With Gus Sinks? In the Pasiooks robbery? Now would yuh listen to such
+----ed foolishness?”
+
+Barney snorted his indignation.
+
+“I think that Buck Houston is out lookin’ for him,” said Jim Horn.
+“They’ve sworn out a warrant for Peace.”
+
+“Who did?”
+
+“Aw, there’s Yeabut Claypool, Chris Sorensen, Mike O’Neil and some of
+their punchers. They’re over at the Royal.”
+
+“They are, eh?”
+
+Barney wrinkled his nose, as though an offensive odor annoyed his
+nostrils.
+
+“Well, the best thing we can do is to split up the four of us and try
+to warn Peace. He’s some’ers around this here country. Wait’ll I git
+m’ pants on.”
+
+“You can’t go and warn him, Barney; there’s a warrant out for his
+arrest,” reminded Bert Hart.
+
+“Can’t, eh?”
+
+Barney thought it over for a moment.
+
+“Well, I can resign, can’t I? This ain’t no good job, anyway. If Buck
+Houston serves that warrant he’ll git a new deputy, y’betcha.”
+
+About an hour later Buck Houston showed up. He had stabled his horse,
+and none of the Chinook outfit knew that he had carried a warning to
+the man they were after.
+
+Cross L and Barney cornered him immediately, but the sheriff was
+non-committal. Then Barney tendered a verbal resignation, handed back
+his badge of office and went over to the Royal saloon with high hopes
+of talking out loud to Claypool & Co.
+
+Houston pocketed Barney’s star, grinned widely over Barney’s emphatic
+resignation--and did nothing.
+
+Claypool waxed profanely eloquent over Houston’s lack of initiative,
+but the sheriff did not seem to care. Not so with Cross L Marshall.
+He followed Claypool around and tried to annoy him into argument.
+Every one expected momentarily that there would be a gun-battle, but
+Claypool had not misrepresented his own feelings when he said that
+he did not want to fight with Cross L.
+
+Finally Claypool gathered his forces and rode away toward Sun Prairie.
+Most of the punchers were unsteady in their saddles and in no shape to
+do anything, except yell and sing, but they rode away without caring
+where they were going or why.
+
+As they rode out of town, Frank Campion, Bender, Mehl and Erne rode
+in. They stopped at the Royal saloon and it did not take them long
+to find out the news. Campion listened to the evidence against Peace
+Parker seriously.
+
+“Well,” he announced, “Parker and I are not the best of friends; so the
+best thing I can do is to keep my mouth shut.”
+
+“Then I’ll give yuh credit for havin’ a little sense,” applauded Cross L
+seriously.
+
+Campion eyed Cross L, but said nothing. He realized that the old man
+was looking for trouble and he had heard that Cross L Marshall was
+not at all crippled in his gun-hand. At any rate he turned back to
+his drink.
+
+“Mebbe you know where Peace Parker is,” suggested Jim Horn.
+
+“Me?”
+
+Campion turned and stared at Horn.
+
+“Yeah. You and that cattle-buyer pulled out of here last evenin’, and
+Peace follered yuh out.”
+
+“Eh?”
+
+Campion upset his glass of liquor accidentally, but was too interested
+to right it.
+
+“Peace Parker followed me--us?”
+
+“That’s what he done,” declared Jim. “You two headed for Poncho Pass and
+Peace was right on your trail.”
+
+Campion’s eyes narrowed and he stared down at the floor, deep in
+thought. His eyes flashed sideways to Bender who was watching him.
+Then Campion seemed to pull himself together and looked at Jim Horn.
+
+“It’s funny we didn’t see him,” he said slowly. “We didn’t ride fast.
+Did he go all the way into the valley?”
+
+“I dunno.”
+
+Jim shook his head.
+
+“He was around here before midnight,” thus the bartender horned into the
+conversation. “I seen him about that time. He didn’t play--just kinda in
+and out, like he was lookin’ for somebody.”
+
+“How long before midnight?”
+
+Campion was interested.
+
+“Oh, I dunno. Mebbe it was eleven o’clock--mebbe later, but it was
+before midnight.”
+
+“You fellers have a little drink with me?”
+
+Campion nodded to the three from the Cross L.
+
+Cross L was about to refuse, but Jim Horn accepted the invitation, and
+they joined Campion’s party. Jim gave the old man a sharp glance, and
+he accepted the invitation without a word.
+
+“We rode over here to warn Peace Parker,” offered Jim, “but Claypool
+and his gang beat us to it. Didn’t do ’em any good, ’cause Peace wasn’t
+here. They’re huntin’ for him now, but they’re too drunk to last long.”
+
+“Well, here’s to Parker,” Campion held up his glass and examined the
+liquor. “And may he get so far out of the country that the sheriff
+would have to pay ten dollars to send him a postal-card.”
+
+“Which he won’t,” chuckled Cross L. “Peace ain’t the runnin’ kind.
+Nossir, he’ll play out his hand. What gets me is the fact that he was
+headed for Chinook Valley.”
+
+“Why do you suppose he’s hanging around here for?” asked Campion.
+
+“I’ll betcha he’s lookin’ for Gus Sinks,” Bert Hart seemed convinced
+that this was the reason. “Mebbe he’s got a hunch that Gus is still
+in the Chinook.”
+
+“He’d be a fool to stay in there,” observed Campion.
+
+“Yeah--from our point of view. Sinks may be a fool, but he’s sure fooled
+us good and plenty. Forty thousand dollars and a clean getaway.”
+
+“He ain’t got away--yet,” declared Cross L. “If Peace Parker can keep
+away from the law long enough, I’m bettin’ he finds Gus Sinks.”
+
+“I’m trailin’ my bet with yours,” said Jim Horn enthusiastically. “Peace
+Parker likes to play a lone hand and he mebbe pulled out of the valley
+just so we’d let him run things to suit himself. He’s a salty rascal.”
+
+“Well, I wish him luck,” said Campion slowly. “I had no money in that
+bank, but I probably would have had some in there if this had happened
+a little later.”
+
+“Sell off some cows?” queried Cross L.
+
+“No, I didn’t. There was a difference of opinion on prices. These buyers
+want all the best of it.”
+
+“That’s a fact,” nodded Cross L. “I’ll buy somethin’ this time.”
+
+They all drank a good-luck to Cross L, and Campion and his men left the
+Royal. At the edge of the sidewalk, Campion spoke to Bender who nodded
+and went straight to the hitchrack where he mounted and rode back toward
+Poncho Pass.
+
+Jim Horn stood beside a window and watched him leave. The other three
+crossed the street to the store and were in there a few minutes; when
+they came out each carried a number of bundles.
+
+They came across the street, mounted their horses and followed Bender.
+Jim scratched his head and told Cross L what the Three Dot outfit had
+done. Cross L bit off a big chew of tobacco and frowned deeply.
+
+“Whatcha suppose Bender went away ahead for?” queried Jim. “Why didn’t
+he stay and pack his share of plunder?”
+
+“Jim,” Cross L’s mustache bristled and twitched violently, “I ain’t no
+mind-reader.”
+
+“I ain’t either but I’ve got a hunch that somethin’ ain’t just what it
+ought to be. I’ll betcha that Campion knows where Peace Parker is.”
+
+“You don’t think that Peace had a run-in with him, do yuh, Jim?”
+
+Jim shook his head. “No, I don’t. If they had a run-in, Peace would be
+here and we’d be lookin’ for Campion.”
+
+Cross L grinned and slapped his leather-chapped leg.
+
+“That’s a cinch, Jim! Well, we’ve just got to wait and see which way the
+pickle is goin’ to squirt.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Peace soon found that the sheepherder was no novice when it came to
+hog-tying a human being. He tried in every way to loosen his bonds but
+only succeeded in rubbing a lot of skin off his wrists.
+
+Once that afternoon, Peace thought he heard voices. It was a dull
+murmur, as though two people were arguing; but no one came near the
+shack. The sheepherder had left shortly after eating his meal and it
+was about two hours before he returned.
+
+He sat down in the doorway and rolled a cigaret for Peace. He seemed
+very thoughtful over something and talked but little.
+
+“Have yuh run out of words?” grinned Peace.
+
+“Not exactly. I’m takin’ the sheep to Tarp City late this afternoon and
+I’m goin’ to leave you here. Mebbe I’ll come back and mebbe I won’t.
+Anyway, I won’t be back before I sell the sheep; so you better pray for
+a quick sale.”
+
+“I suppose I don’t eat while yo’re gone, eh?”
+
+“Don’t look like it, does it? I suppose I’d save myself a lot of trouble
+by puttin’ a bullet into yuh right now.”
+
+“Pleasant thing to think about,” grinned Peace.
+
+“Well, put yourself in my place. I can’t let yuh loose to block me, can
+I? I can’t come back here and let yuh loose, ’cause that would give yuh
+a chance to trail me down. We’re both up against it, don’tcha know it?”
+
+“Well,” grinned Peace, “I ain’t goin’ to be a hero and ask yuh to
+sacrifice me to save yourself. Yuh know, that proposition I made yuh
+still holds good. You show me Gus Sinks and the sheep belong to you.”
+
+“Thasso? Suppose I just keep the sheep, anyway. You can’t force me to
+accept your proposition; yuh must remember me and Gus had this all
+framed. He was to lift the money from the Pasiooks bank, while I
+disposed of the sheep. We’re in cahoots on this, and yore offer don’t
+interest me none.”
+
+“Kinda looks like a dead-lock,” said Peace seriously.
+
+“Yep. Well, I’m goin’ to herd my sheep right now and we’ll see about the
+rest.”
+
+The man got to his feet and stretched his arms. He was still carrying
+Peace’s six-shooter in addition to his own. He studied Peace for a
+moment and came over to him.
+
+“Got to kinda look yuh over, pardner. Can’t take no chance on yuh
+workin’ them ropes loose.”
+
+He rolled Peace over on his side, loosened the ropes a little and tied
+them off again. It eased the pressure on Peace’s arms a little for which
+he was thankful.
+
+“I reckon you’ll stay put,” he remarked. “I’ll see yuh later. _Adios._”
+
+He walked away from the shack and Peace heard him swearing at the
+sheep as he rounded them up with the dogs. Peace could not see out of
+the door, but the shadows showed that it was well past mid-afternoon.
+The sound of the sheep and sheepherder died away and there was no
+sound, except the drone of insects.
+
+Peace hitched back toward the wall and tried to sit up. He twisted at
+his wrists and a thrill went through him. The rope was slack enough
+for him to work one hand loose, and inside of a minute he had shucked
+the ropes from his body and got to his feet.
+
+He took one step toward the door and stopped.
+
+“Too easy,” he muttered. “Too ---- easy! Whatcha know about that?”
+
+He backed to the wall and frowned down at the loose rope. Had the man
+made a mistake in the tying, or did he do it intentionally? Peace shook
+his head.
+
+“Planted the whole thing, I betcha,” he reflected bitterly. “When I walk
+out I get a bullet.”
+
+Cautiously he sidled to the door and peered out. His angle was limited
+and he could see nothing. There was no sound. He peered a little
+closer. Within six feet of the doorway, leaning against the house, was
+that Winchester rifle.
+
+Peace grinned, but without mirth. He knew that the rifle was there for
+a purpose. The scar-faced man knew that Peace would go after that rifle
+immediately, and Peace was just as sure that the scar-faced man was out
+there at that fringe of brush, waiting for him.
+
+Peace squinted at the rifle and wondered if he dared to make a dash for
+it. It was a long chance.
+
+“Betcha forty dollars it ain’t loaded,” he mused. “No danged fool would
+leave a loaded rifle that handy.”
+
+He had noticed the rifle the day before and a thought suddenly came
+to him. Peace, like all range men, instinctively noted the caliber
+of a rifle and the thought suddenly struck him that this rifle might
+mean something to his side.
+
+He gathered up the rope and tied a heavy knot on one end. The muzzle of
+the rifle was leaning against the side of the building, which precluded
+any chance of roping it with a loop, but Peace had an idea.
+
+He backed to the corner and circled the room, which put him on the
+opposite side of the door and on the same side with the rifle.
+Estimating the distance to the gun, he flung out the length of rope,
+throwing it the opposite direction from the gun.
+
+Then, with a jerk of his wrist, and only exposing his forearm, he
+whipped the rope toward the gun. He felt it strike the gun, and jerked
+quickly, but the knot whipped loose and the rope came back.
+
+Quickly he tossed it again and whipped back. This time the rope was
+a little longer and his forward jerk captured the gun. He dragged it
+swiftly through the doorway, and picked it up.
+
+A flip of the lever showed the gun to be empty, but a glance at the
+caliber number on the top of the barrel caused Peace to grin with joy.
+
+The scar-faced man had Peace’s six-shooter but he had neglected to
+remove Peace’s cartridge belt which was studded with 32-20 revolver
+cartridges. The rifle was a 32-20 caliber and would chamber the
+revolver cartridge. Both the 32-20 rifle and revolver were fairly
+new to the range-land, and the Cross L had made uncomplimentary
+remarks anent Peace’s pop-gun. But Peace had showed them that the
+smaller caliber gun was more accurate and just as deadly as the more
+cumbersome ones. His gun was of .45 caliber frame which gave him the
+accustomed weight.
+
+The question now was to find the location of the sheepherder. Peace took
+off his coat and hung it over a short piece of the broken flooring. Then
+he took his hat in his other hand and projected them past the edge of
+the doorway. At a distance it would seem that the point of a man’s
+shoulder and the edge of his hat were in sight.
+
+_Whap!_
+
+Peace jerked the coat back, dropped the piece of board and flexed his
+fingers. The bullet had drilled a neat hole through the shoulder of
+his coat and splintered the board. “Mebbe that jasper can’t shoot!”
+applauded Peace admiringly. “What he’d ’a’ done to me would ’a’ been
+a-plenty. Um-hm-m-m-m! Don’t look as good as it did.”
+
+The rear door and windows had been boarded up long ago, and to Peace
+it looked like a case of staying out of sight until the sheepherder
+decided to leave--or until it got dark. The broken floor attracted
+his attention. The old house had been built upon heavy log sills and
+there seemed to be considerable room underneath. Peace examined it
+closely and crawled under. The dirt banking on the sides had fallen
+away and he was able to crawl to the side of the building and peer
+out. He could not get a clear vision of that side of the clearing,
+but he had an even break with any one that came into view for a
+radius of two hundred yards.
+
+He could not see or hear the sheep now, but he was sure that the
+sheepherder would not leave until things were settled between them.
+Peace shoved the muzzle of his rifle through the aperture and squinted
+closely. He had a fair idea of where the shot had been fired from.
+
+He knew that the sheepherder would stay where he could watch the front
+door and this knowledge was of assistance to Peace. He watched a certain
+spot in the brush for some little time. Something had caused a branch to
+jerk--and there was no wind.
+
+It jerked again. Peace flattened his cheek against the butt of his
+rifle and sent a bullet whistling into that clump. The man must have
+been moving away, because beyond that spot, and to the right, the
+bushes jerked sharply.
+
+Twice more Peace fired but without visible results. He did not have
+a target but felt that his bullets were going very close. The bushes
+did not wave again; so he relaxed and waited for the sheepherder to
+make his next move.
+
+Straight across the clearing from Peace was the brush-lined creek with
+high banks, where a man might easily walk without being seen from the
+cabin. Peace had left the rifle muzzle protruding from under the cabin,
+while he slid back a foot or two, as he rolled a smoke.
+
+Suddenly the dirt bank near his head seemed fairly to explode, and to
+his dirt-filled ears came the snap of a high-power rifle. Peace rolled
+aside and clawed the dust out of his eyes. The bullet had evidently
+mushroomed into that clay-like dirt and had driven Peace’s mouth, nose,
+ears and eyes full of it.
+
+He reached blindly for his rifle, yanked it with him and crawled farther
+back toward the rear of the building, while shot after shot tore through
+the hard dirt and filled the air with dust and fine gravel. The
+sheepherder was taking a chance on hitting Peace by searching the whole
+length of the shack.
+
+But Peace hugged the rear of the place, while he tried to blink the dust
+out of his eyes and wait for the man to finish his magazine of shots.
+
+“The danged murderer snuck up the creek on me,” reflected Peace, “and I
+left my gun-muzzle outside as a marker for him. That was a smart thing
+to do. Peace Parker, if you git killed, it’s yore own fault.”
+
+The sheepherder’s rifle had made many apertures in the banked foundation
+of the shack and Peace crawled to the near corner and peered out. The
+man was too smart to show himself, but Peace felt sure that he was just
+behind the creek bank.
+
+Then Peace saw a slight movement. It was the crown of the man’s hat and
+it moved in a perfectly natural way. A moment later it flipped upward
+from the jerk of Peace’s bullet, and almost at the same time a bullet
+ricocheted off the barrel of Peace’s gun and thudded into the corner of
+the building.
+
+Peace rolled and slid sideways toward the center of the place and
+crawled rapidly toward the front, while another bullet smashed into
+the corner of the foundation.
+
+“Son-of-a-gun foxed me,” complained Peace. “Hung up his old hat while he
+went down the creek and laid for me. But it didn’t git him any scalps.”
+
+He crawled to the side again and peered out. This time he was careful
+to keep near the corner where the angle gave him slightly better
+protection.
+
+Suddenly he caught a flash of a man’s body, but at an extreme angle. It
+was only a glimpse, but it showed that the man was running up through
+the brush as though to circle the shack.
+
+Peace grinned and crawled to the opposite side, where he carefully
+kicked away the banking. The man had driven him away from the peep-holes
+and was going to circle the cabin, thought Peace.
+
+It was the reasonable thing to do, under the circumstances, and Peace
+congratulated himself on having seen the man start his circle. He
+watched closely. Beyond him the hill sloped sharply and was a mass of
+brush and rocks.
+
+The man was a long time showing up, he thought. Perhaps he was sneaking
+up at the rear. Peace squinted reflectively.
+
+“Still,” reflected Peace, “he ain’t a lot better off than I am. He’s
+gotta peek under to see me.”
+
+Suddenly he jerked his gun forward and flattened himself as low as
+possible. He had seen the man again, and this time he was apparently
+mounting a horse in the jack-pine thicket back on the slope.
+
+Peace cuddled the butt of the gun carefully and squinted down the
+sights. Again the man came into view, spurring his horse, as though
+to circle back toward the rear of the house but still protected by
+the high brush. Peace was unable to get a clear view of either man
+or horse but he took a chance and squeezed the trigger.
+
+Almost at the crack of the rifle the horse fell away headlong into the
+brush and the rider seemed to fairly somersault out of the saddle.
+
+“Walk, you son-of-a-gun!” exploded Peace. “You made me walk.”
+
+For several moments there was no sign of the man, and then Peace got
+a flash of him, running up the slope, dodging from rock to rock. His
+movements were too swift for Peace, who was in a cramped position and
+unable to elevate his gun-muzzle sufficiently to cover the target.
+
+Peace grinned thankfully and began rolling a cigaret. Just why the
+sheepherder had decided to pull out was a mystery to him, but he was
+perfectly willing to have the man leave.
+
+He was about to light his cigaret when he heard the thud of running
+horses and a man’s voice yelling something. They came up to the cabin,
+and he heard the confused murmur of voices as they dismounted.
+
+Came a creak of the old floor as some one stepped inside, and the voices
+were more distinct.
+
+“Yeah, but who in ---- was doin’ the shootin’?”
+
+It was Claypool’s voice.
+
+Several voices joined into the argument and more boots creaked on the
+floor.
+
+“Well, that’s Peace Parker’s bronc,” declared Chris Sorensen’s voice,
+“and it’s deader than ----”
+
+“Let’s have a drink,” suggested another, and this was met with approval.
+
+“You got the bottle yoreself, Barill,” stated Mike O’Neil’s voice.
+
+There was a great shuffling of feet, as they drank from the bottle,
+and then all went outside. Ensued a lot of meaningless gabble in which
+Peace caught fragmentary sentences relating to dead horses and sheep.
+Then they all mounted and rode away.
+
+Peace crawled back to the opening in the floor in time to see them
+disappear into the brush, heading back toward the Fossilshell road.
+
+“Well,” grinned Peace, “that’s once that whisky helped me out. If that
+bottle wasn’t about empty they’d ’a’ done some lookin’ around. Hurrah
+for hooch!”
+
+He walked outside and peered around the side of the shack. There was
+nobody in sight, but he was taking no chances on the sheepherder this
+time. He draped his coat on a stick and tried his same experiment
+again, but this time there was no response.
+
+He tried it at the other corner, with the same results. Then he stepped
+out from the building, taking a chance that the man had kept on going.
+After a hasty glance toward the brushy slope he stepped back and jerked
+up his rifle.
+
+A horse was coming down through the trees and as it broke out into the
+open, Peace saw that it was saddled and bridled. For several moments it
+stood there, shaking its head jerkily, and then came on toward him. He
+watched it, a quizzical expression in his eyes. The horse stopped a few
+feet away, and then Peace knew what had happened.
+
+Just at the arch of its neck was a jagged furrow, where his bullet had
+plowed its way. The horse had been creased, or in other words, shocked
+momentarily by the bullet and had fallen as though instantly killed.
+
+Peace spoke to the animal, which let him pick up the reins. It seemed
+slightly dazed and very docile, but Peace knew that the animal was not
+seriously hurt.
+
+“Couldn’t do it in a year, if I wanted to,” he confessed to himself,
+“but I’m sure glad that this was my lucky day. I’d hate to hurt a
+innocent horse.”
+
+He squinted at the brand and frowned thoughtfully. He knew that he had
+seen this horse before. Suddenly it struck him that this horse belonged
+to the Tarp City livery-stable and was the one that the cattle-buyer had
+hired the night before.
+
+“Well, that puts a new kink in the tangle,” he reflected. “What’s that
+bronc doin’ over here?”
+
+He rubbed its nose softly.
+
+“Dog-gone yuh, I wish yuh could talk. I’d sure have a lot of questions
+to ask yuh, bronc.”
+
+_Pwee-e-e-e!_
+
+A bullet struck the ground between Peace and the corner of the house and
+went humming off into the brush. The report showed that the shooter was
+doing some long-range work, but Peace figured that it was too close for
+comfort; so he swung into the saddle, spurred the horse to the left,
+which would put the building between him and the rifleman, and rode away
+toward the brushy creek.
+
+No more shots were fired, which proved that Peace’s calculations were
+correct. He drew up on the bank of the creek where he was hidden by the
+brush and debated whether to go away or wait and see if the shepherd
+would come back, but decided that the shepherd was too wise for such a
+proceeding, and rode away.
+
+Peace knew that whisky and man-hunting did not mix well; so had little
+to fear from the Claypool outfit. They would go back to Tarp City, line
+up at the bar and argue over the dead saddle-horse they had found.
+
+But this did not help Peace’s situation to any great extent. He was
+blocked from going to Tarp City--unless he wanted to take a chance
+on being arrested. To leave the country would be a confession of his
+guilt and also leave some work undone.
+
+“I can’t go away and leave that sheepherder alone,” he reflected. “He’s
+a liar, that’s a cinch--and he tried to murder me. Still I’ve got to
+give him credit for bein’ gentleman enough to not shoot me while I was
+tied up, I s’pose. But he ain’t got no more idea where Gus Sinks is than
+I have--and I’ve got to find Gus Sinks.”
+
+He traveled back to the main road and headed for Tarp City, taking care
+to parallel the road instead of coming out into the open. For about a
+mile he watched the road closely, but could not find where the sheep had
+come back to it. Then he turned around and went back the other way,
+until he had gone a mile or more beyond where they had crossed the first
+time. Still there was no sign of their crossing.
+
+Peace rode back to the creek, gave his horse a drink and sat down in
+the shade to have a smoke and wonder deeply what had become of his
+sheep. It was evident that they were not heading for Tarp City nor
+for the Fossilshell.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+But Jim Horn was not willing to follow Cross L Marshall’s advice and,
+“wait to see which way the pickle is goin’ to squirt.”
+
+Jim was naturally of a suspicious nature, and, as soon as he was able,
+without attracting attention, he secured his horse and rode out of town,
+heading toward Poncho Pass. He wanted to know why Bender had ridden away
+ahead of Campion and his other two men.
+
+About a mile out of town he saw a man walking down the road toward him.
+The man limped slightly and stopped as Jim rode up to him. It was the
+cattle-buyer who had ridden away with Campion, but was a stranger to Jim
+Horn.
+
+The man’s clothes were torn in several places and one of his hands was
+badly bruised. He seemed tired and there was an angry expression in his
+eyes, as Jim grinned at him.
+
+“How far is it to Tarp City?” he demanded.
+
+“Mile or so,” said Jim, glancing back down the road.
+
+The man swore openly and flexed his right knee.
+
+“I lost my horse,” he explained. “I’m a cattle-buyer.”
+
+He pointed back toward the hill.
+
+“I went into the valley with a man named Campion--went in last night.
+We disagreed on prices; so I started back. Got lost, I reckon. Anyway,
+I got off my horse and it broke away from me.
+
+“Horse belongs to the livery-stable at Tarp City. I’ve had a ---- of a
+time gettin’ here.”
+
+“Yeah, yuh sure look like yuh did,” admitted Jim. “Kinda got off the
+road, didn’t yuh?”
+
+“I did. Skinned my hand and twisted my ankle.”
+
+“Well, yuh ain’t far from Tarp City now, pardner.”
+
+“Glad of it. What outfit are you with?”
+
+“Cross L.”
+
+“Over in the valley, eh? Sellin’ any beef?”
+
+“Mebbe.” Jim turned in his saddle and pointed back down the road. “Old
+man Marshall is in Tarp City now. Yuh might ask him about it. He ain’t
+in no mood to sell cows, but he might calm down long enough to talk
+business.”
+
+The cattle-buyer squinted thoughtfully and nodded.
+
+“Much obliged. Well, I’ll be hobblin’ along. So long.”
+
+Jim nodded and rode on.
+
+“So this was the cattle-buyer that went away with Campion,” mused Jim.
+“Lost his horse and fell all over the landscape.”
+
+At the first curve in the road he looked back. The cattle-buyer was not
+in sight.
+
+“Cripple ----!” exploded Jim. “Nothin’ less than a foot-racer could get
+out of sight that quick.”
+
+He turned his horse and rode back at an easy gallop, but the crippled
+cattle-buyer had disappeared. Jim rode boldly back to where he had
+talked to the man and tracked him in the dusty road for about a hundred
+yards.
+
+The man had stopped, shuffled his feet as he evidently looked toward
+Jim, but from there the tracks were not visible. Jim stared off into
+the brush, a queer expression in his eyes.
+
+“Whatcha know about that?” he demanded of the whole wide world. “He
+won’t find Tarp City down there in the brush. Mebbe he lost his rudder
+and can’t steer himself.”
+
+But only a blue-jay’s chattering broke the stillness. Jim shook his
+head and rode back toward Tarp City, wondering why the man had taken
+to the brush.
+
+Jim found Cross L and Bert Hart in the Royal saloon but did not tell
+them where he had been. Buck Houston was also in the saloon, when,
+according to precedent, he should be out in the hills looking for
+clues.
+
+Barney McManus had looked upon the wine when it was very red and was
+in the proper condition to do battle with any one who dared say that
+Peace Parker was guilty of being anything. Buck Houston looked mildly
+upon Barney but said nothing. Barney was a good deputy. Houston gave
+no thought to Barney’s resignation.
+
+A little later the Claypool posse rode into town and invaded the Royal.
+They were dusty, tired and thirsty, but triumphant, to a certain degree.
+
+“We didn’t find our man,” explained Claypool, a trifle thickly, “but we
+found his horse and saddle--dead.”
+
+“Who do yuh reckon killed the saddle?” queried Jim quickly, but Cross L
+shoved in closer to Claypool and demanded a detailed explanation.
+
+With the assistance of several more of his men who all talked at once,
+Claypool managed to tell of how they had heard shooting and had found
+the dead horse. Of Peace they had seen nothing.
+
+Cross L, Jim and Bert went outside and held an executive session.
+Claypool had told them where the dead horse had been found, and Cross
+L was in a hurry to investigate for himself.
+
+Then Jim Horn told of his meeting with the cattle-buyer, while Cross L
+squinted wonderingly.
+
+“What’s the answer?” queried Bert. “Who in ---- did Peace have the
+run-in with, I’d like to know?”
+
+“Mebbe Claypool and his gang shot the horse,” suggested Jim.
+
+But Cross L shook his head.
+
+“No, they didn’t. If Claypool had ’a’ done it he’d be braggin’ his head
+off over it. There’s somethin’ goin’ on that we don’t know about. Yuh
+say the cattle-buyer was crippled, Jim?”
+
+“Hurt his ankle, I reckon. Didn’t look like that kind of a person
+either. Pers’nally, I think he’s a liar when he says his horse got away
+from him and he got lost. By golly, he sure took back to the woods in a
+hurry.”
+
+“Yuh mean that he didn’t look like the kind of a person that’d lose his
+horse and go fallin’ around?”
+
+“----, no! He ain’t a young man but he’s got a fightin’ face. Chin as
+square as the end of a cigar-box and he ain’t got no lips to speak
+about. Just a slit. And his nose kinda flares, like he’d been hit hard
+on the end of it.”
+
+Cross L rubbed the back of his head and squinted down at the ground.
+
+“Yuh say he wanted to buy some beef from us, Jim?”
+
+“He wanted to know if we had any. I told him to come down here and see
+you about it.”
+
+“Uh-huh.”
+
+Cross L grew thoughtful as he bit off a big chew of tobacco and dangled
+the plug in his hand.
+
+Tony Laughlin came out of the Royal and Cross L accosted him.
+
+“Tony, did you see that dead horse?”
+
+“Yeah, I seen him, Marshall. Claypool said it was Parker’s outfit.
+Black saddle, kinda plain-lookin’, with a rawhide-covered horn and
+silver rivets.”
+
+“Gray horse?” queried Jim.
+
+“Yeah. Branded with a Box M on the left shoulder.”
+
+“That’s his animal,” nodded Cross L. “Who do yuh think done it, Tony?”
+
+“Good gosh, I dunno. We didn’t see nobody.”
+
+Tony went on across the street and the three from the Cross L sat down
+on the sidewalk.
+
+“Mebbe Peace is out there in the brush shot plumb full of holes,”
+suggested Bert.
+
+“Dry up!” exploded Cross L. “You ought to be a undertaker, Bert; you get
+such sweet thoughts.”
+
+“Well, you try guessin’ for a while,” advised Bert. “You ain’t done
+nothin’ yet, except curse a lot.”
+
+“Yeah, I s’pose I have cussed a lot, Bert.” Cross L rubbed his chin
+slowly and his old eyes softened. “I’ve cussed a lot t’day. But I like
+Peace Parker so danged much that it makes me cuss to think he’s havin’
+a hard time out there alone.”
+
+“Go ahead and cuss, if yuh feel like it,” said Jim slowly. “I’ll tell
+yuh a few cuss words that mebbe yuh don’t know--and it might help us
+both.”
+
+“Ain’t nothin’ we can do, except cuss,” admitted Bert. “It’s goin’ to
+be dark pretty danged quick. Shall we go home or stay here until after
+supper?”
+
+“Let’s go home,” suggested Cross L. “I ain’t got no appetite--’less you
+fellers want to eat.”
+
+“I feel kinda dys-pep-tick,” admitted Jim. “Let’s hit the trail for the
+ranch. Saleratus’ll get us some grub, if we’re hungry.”
+
+They went to the hitch-rack and got their horses. Claypool and his
+men came out of the Royal saloon, talking loudly and headed for their
+horses.
+
+“Let’s not ride with that bunch of snakehunters,” said Cross L, as they
+mounted. “They’re half-drunk and all loco.”
+
+The three from the Cross L left town at a stiff gallop, paying no
+attention to Claypool’s men, who came up the road just behind them,
+but seemingly in no hurry.
+
+The sun had long since gone down behind the mountain peaks, and the wide
+stretches of the hills were shrouded in the gloom of twilight. The three
+men rode swiftly along the grades, past the place where Jim Horn had met
+the cattle buyer, and into the sharp curves of the higher levels.
+
+They were nearing the spot where the rocky hog-back opened the way to
+the secret pass, when Jim Horn jerked up on his horse and came to a
+full stop. The others drew rein with him and moved back to where he
+was standing in his stirrups, looking toward the secret pass.
+
+“Whatcha see, Jim?” queried Cross L.
+
+“Danged if I know, Cross L. Looks like a camp-fire, away up there in the
+peaks. Don’tcha see it?”
+
+“I see it!” exclaimed Bert. “What in ---- would anybody camp up there
+for?”
+
+“I can see it now,” agreed Cross L. “Looks like a fire, all right. Long
+ways up there.”
+
+As they sat there watching the tiny flicker, Claypool and his men rode
+up and questioned them.
+
+“I’ll betcha that’s Peace Parker’s campfire!” blurted one of the
+cowboys.
+
+“Not out in the open,” replied Jim Horn. “Peace is no fool.”
+
+Claypool moved around until he could lean close to Cross L.
+
+“Marshall, that fire is pretty danged close to the little pass, ain’t
+it?”
+
+“Yeah, I’ve been thinkin’ it is,” nodded Marshall.
+
+“Well, I’m goin’ to find out what it is,” declared Claypool. “If it
+don’t affect the pass, we don’t need to show the way to the whole gang.
+Come on.”
+
+Claypool whirled his horse and spoke to his men.
+
+“We’re goin’ up there and see what it’s all about.”
+
+He spurred his horse up the rocky point, and all the rest followed him,
+their horses scrambling along, kicking a shower of rocks back onto the
+grade. Cross L and his two men were just as anxious to find out what it
+meant, so they urged their horses up through the brush and mixed with
+the others.
+
+The going was not easy. Darkness was fast covering the mountain
+slopes, and there was danger of a rider slipping over the rim of the
+deep cañons. Mile after mile they urged their horses, climbing higher
+and higher toward the tiny flame.
+
+There was little conversation, as each rider was on the alert, and there
+was little sound, except the creak of saddles, jingling of bit-chains
+and the scraping of shod hoofs on the rocky ledges.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Peace Parker had spent considerable time on the bank of the little
+stream, trying to puzzle out what it all meant. His mind was jumbled
+with the happenings of the last twelve hours; jumbles, which, as yet,
+he was unable to connect close enough to plan out his next move.
+
+The sun was going down when he got to his feet and led his horse down to
+the creek for a drink. Then he swung into the saddle and rode cautiously
+back to the shack where he had been imprisoned.
+
+There was no one in sight around there. He swung in a wide circle,
+examining the ground closely for sheep-tracks. Then he found where the
+herd had traveled, and a pucker came between his eyes, as he squinted
+at the brush-covered slope of the mountains.
+
+Back and forth he led his horse, looking closely at the tracks. Here
+and there a thorny bush had lifted tufts of wool from the sheep, and
+it was easy to follow them. They were all heading into the hills.
+
+Then Peace mounted his horse, swung the rifle across the saddle-fork in
+front of him and started up the mountain.
+
+There could be only one possible destination for that flock of sheep,
+and that was the secret pass.
+
+“They’re shovin’ ’em in through the little pass!” he gasped. “They’re
+goin’ to make another try at puttin’ the woollies into the valley of
+the Chinook--and they’re hours ahead of me! Come on, bronc!”
+
+Peace knew what it would mean to Chinook. The law had already been
+tested and the sheep had been given equal rights with other stock.
+Possession of the range--not outright ownership--and its
+inaccessibility had been the salvation of the cattle-ranges of the
+Chinook, but Peace knew that if one big band of sheep ever invaded
+that domain the law would follow the recent precedent and in a short
+time the valley would be sheeped-out.
+
+There were no fences, except those at the home ranches--no way of
+stopping that gray wave of grass-destroying herbivore, if once they
+gained the down-slopes.
+
+It was a long climb up that mountain side. There were no trails, nothing
+to guide him. But beyond and beyond was the wool-tipped brush where the
+sheep had climbed ahead of him.
+
+Darkness came down, but still the jaded animal climbed up through the
+broken rock, brush, down-timber, while Peace urged it continually, and
+swore roundly when it was forced to detour around the upper cliffs.
+
+Then he saw the flicker of the fire beyond him. It was, as near as he
+could judge, very close to the rocky defile which led in through the
+cliffs. He drew rein and listened. A breeze was sighing through the
+pines, and to his ears came the distant bleating of sheep.
+
+He rode on toward the cliffs. Suddenly his horse shied and almost fell.
+It was a tired sheep lying on the side of the hill that frightened the
+horse. The sheep tried to get up, but fell back. The drive had been too
+severe. There were more further on, standing in a huddle against the
+side of a rock--a feast for the coyotes.
+
+Peace swore softly, swung the gun in one hand and urged his horse
+onward. There were men around the fire and just beyond them he could
+see another man, who was blocking the sheep from swinging to the
+right, and sending them into the rocky defile.
+
+The sheep were bleating pitifully and were hardly strong enough to
+clamber up the last incline. Peace tried to shout to the men at the
+fire, but before he could fill his lungs with air, one of the men
+fired a rifle.
+
+But this did not stop Peace. He was not going to stop for anything now.
+The men were running toward the cleft in the rocks. Another rifle shot
+echoed and re-echoed among the cliffs. The sheep were running hither and
+yon, as Peace spurred up the last incline, swinging his rifle in one
+hand.
+
+The horse stumbled and almost fell, but Peace yanked its head up and
+roweled it deeply, and as it sprang forward something struck Peace a
+tremendous blow and he fell sideways off his horse into the rocks.
+
+He dimly realized that he had been shot, but felt no pain. He did not
+even feel the shock of his fall into the rocks. He heard voices--many
+voices--but they were so muddled that he could not distinguish a single
+one.
+
+Some one was holding a light over him, and he wanted to grin, but his
+facial muscles seemed stiff. Then he heard Claypool’s voice saying:
+
+“----tell yuh he tried to herd his ---- sheep into the valley.”
+
+Again the muddled roar of voices. He managed to turn his eyes enough
+to look up into the face of Cross L Marshall. Someone was holding a
+light. He wanted to tell old Cross L that everything was all right,
+but he could not speak.
+
+Cross L had turned and was speaking now:
+
+“He’s hurt bad, boys. Arguin’ ain’t goin’ to get us nowhere. Yes,
+they’re his sheep. We’ve got to get him to a doctor.”
+
+“We’ll git him to jail!” It was Mike O’Neil who made this declaration.
+“We’ll fix that dirty pup!”
+
+Came a sudden movement, the sound of a blow and a chorus of voices,
+arguing angrily. Then Jim Horn’s voice, half-crying with anger:
+
+“Yes, and I’ll break his nose ag’in, if he opens his mouth. And if you
+want any of it, Barill, I’ll hand you the same dose.”
+
+Peace grinned internally. He knew that Jim Horn had hit Mike O’Neil in
+the nose and was promising the same thing to Sam Barill, the gun-man.
+It was good to have such friends.
+
+“All right,” said Claypool reluctantly. “We’ll tie him on in front
+of somebody. Mebbe he’ll live to the bottom of the hill and mebbe he
+won’t. Don’t make much diff----”
+
+Claypool’s discourse was broken by a sudden _splat_, and Cross L’s voice
+crowed triumphantly:
+
+“I’ve been goin’ to do it to you for a long time, Claypool. My foot
+slipped, or I’d ’a’ hit yuh harder.”
+
+“That was hard enough, ---- knows,” drawled Sorensen. “He won’t wake up
+for an hour. Didja hit him with a rock?”
+
+“M’ fist!” grunted Cross L. “Mebbe it’s hard as a rock. I’ve had it
+doubled up all day and it’s likely petrified.”
+
+Some one laughed nervously, and Claypool’s voice began weak inquiries,
+which no one seemed to think worth answering. Two of the men lifted
+Peace up, while another led up a horse.
+
+“Rope him good and tight,” ordered Claypool painfully, in a weak voice.
+
+The cowboys quickly tied Peace to the saddle, while another climbed up
+behind him. Peace was beginning to have more sensation of pain now. The
+back of his head ached throbbingly and his shoulder felt like a red-hot
+iron was being drawn forth and back across it.
+
+They rode out to where the mountain sloped off into the valley, and
+Sorensen gave some of the cowboys orders to round up the sheep as
+quickly as possible and send them back through the pass.
+
+Cross L rode close to Peace, as though to guard him from Claypool and
+O’Neil, who were talking in undertones of what they were going to do to
+Peace Parker. Jim Horn cursed them bitterly, and at times it seemed that
+open warfare was about to break out, but Chris Sorensen begged them to
+drop their quarrel for the time being.
+
+Peace gradually recovered the use of his legs and arms and his brain
+became alert again, but he said nothing. He realized that the evidence
+was against him. Claypool and his men had not seen the men at the fire
+and thought that Peace was the one who had fired the shots at them.
+
+They traveled down the long slopes to the road where they bunched and
+quickened their pace.
+
+“Take him to my place,” suggested Cross L. “We can send for Doctor
+Glover.”
+
+“Thasall right,” agreed Claypool, “but some of us will stay there with
+him, y’betcha.”
+
+Cross L spat a curse that would make a cotton-tail attack a rattlesnake,
+but Claypool remained silent. He had been hit hard--too hard to want it
+to happen again.
+
+They rode in at the Cross L and carried Peace into the house. Jess met
+them at the door and her face went white at her glimpse of Peace. His
+head and face were a mass of gore and his eyes were closed.
+
+They placed him on a couch in the living-room and one of the cowboys
+mounted and rode swiftly after the doctor. Cross L went to Jess and
+put an arm around her shoulder.
+
+“Is he hurt bad?” she whispered anxiously.
+
+“I reckon so, Jess. We ain’t had no chance to examine him, but he sure
+does look bad. He ain’t spoke.”
+
+Saleratus Smith came in from the kitchen, stared around at the circle of
+hard-bitted men and strode over to the couch.
+
+“Who in ---- done this?” he demanded hotly.
+
+He turned and looked at the men. O’Neil’s nose was swollen from Jim
+Horn’s fist and Claypool’s right cheek and eye were an indigo in the
+light from the oil lamp.
+
+“We don’t know who done it, Saleratus,” said Jim slowly. “There was
+several shots fired at him.”
+
+Saleratus squinted closely at the men, but no one seemed to offer an
+explanation. He leaned over and turned Peace’s head slightly as he
+inspected the wound. His body blocked the crowd from Peace’s head,
+and Peace’s lips whispered a short sentence, although his eyes did
+not open.
+
+Saleratus squinted closer for a moment and straightened up.
+
+“I’m goin’ to wash him off a little bit,” he announced. “It can’t hurt
+him none and it’ll make him look better. That bullet burned plumb
+across his shoulder and knocked a hunk off the back of his head. Mebbe
+it didn’t go into him, but it sure looks bad.”
+
+“Hop to it,” said Cross L. “It’s the least we can do.”
+
+Saleratus headed into the kitchen, and Jess drew her father aside. In a
+few words he told her all that he knew about it.
+
+“They’ll hang that bank robbery on to him, Jess,” whispered Cross L,
+after he had told of the shooting at the pass. “I’ll back him with
+every cent I’ve got, but it sure looks bad, I tell yuh.”
+
+“Maybe they can’t prove it,” breathed Jess. “He left here because of
+Frank Campion, didn’t he? Dad, I told Frank Campion that I was engaged
+to Peace, but he kept coming. And--and Peace didn’t seem to care. I
+knew that Campion was a liar when he wrote that note to me.”
+
+“Peace never whipped him because he was jealous. It was not like Peace.
+One day Frank came to see me and he had been drinking enough to make him
+boastful. He said that the people of Chinook Valley were too clannish
+for him, and that he was going to make them eat out of his hand before
+he got through. And I--I wanted to find out how he was going to do it,
+dad.”
+
+“He said that, did he, Jess?”
+
+Cross L squinted thoughtfully. Saleratus Smith was coming back with
+a basin of hot water and a towel. He placed the pan on the floor and
+leaned over Peace, holding the wrapped towel in his right hand.
+
+Shielding his action as much as possible, he unrolled the towel and
+exposed a heavy Colt six-shooter, which he slipped into Peace’s hand.
+No one saw the thing done, and as Saleratus knelt down to pick up the
+pan of water, Peace straightened up in bed, covering the crowd with
+the gun.
+
+They were too amazed to even move, as he slid off the couch, the gun
+tensed at his hip, and backed swiftly toward the open door.
+
+“Peace!” gasped Cross L. “Peace you ain’t--well, I’ll be ----ed!”
+
+“Hold still,” gritted Peace. “Claypool, if you reach for that gun,
+you’ll draw a harp or a shovel. Cross L, you shut the door behind me,
+if yuh will.”
+
+Swiftly he backed out of the door and Cross L stumbled across the
+rumpled rug and shut the door. Then he stood with his back against it,
+laughing foolishly.
+
+“---- you; git away from that door!” shrilled Claypool, covering Cross L
+with his gun. “Come on, boys; we’ll git him!”
+
+Cross L stepped aside from the menace of Claypool’s gun, and O’Neil
+flung the door wide for the rush of men.
+
+“There he goes!” yelled Tony Laughlin. “He’s headin’ down the road!”
+
+“Yeah, and he’ll lead you snake-hunters a merry chase!” yelled
+Saleratus, as they mounted swiftly.
+
+Cross L and the two cowboys joined in the chase, but not to help catch
+him, while Saleratus danced a jig on the rug and managed to upset the
+pan of hot water.
+
+“Where did he get the gun, Saleratus?” gasped Jess.
+
+“From me! I almost swallered m’ wisdom-teeth when he whispered for me to
+get him a gun.”
+
+And without any preliminary action, Jess flung her arms around
+Saleratus’ neck and kissed him. He jerked back, staring at her, while
+his hand went uncertainly to his lips.
+
+“That is for giving him that gun,” said Jess.
+
+“My ----!” exploded Saleratus. “You--uh--huh! Say!”
+
+He slapped himself on the thigh and stared at her.
+
+“You kissed me for givin’ him that gun? For givin’ him one little
+solitary gun?”
+
+“Yes, Saleratus.”
+
+“My gosh, that’s hard luck!”
+
+“Why what do you mean?”
+
+“Mean?” Saleratus pointed toward the kitchen door.
+
+“Why, I’ve got another six-gun, a rifle and a sawed-off shotgun in
+there--and I only gave him one little solitary six-gun!”
+
+Saleratus slapped himself on the leg again, picked up his empty pan and
+bow-legged his way into the kitchen, chuckling joyfully.
+
+Down the road swept the riders, heading toward Pasiooks, urging their
+tired horses to a killing pace. Peace had taken Tony Laughlin’s horse,
+which was reputed to be a runner, and Tony was riding double with Sam
+Barill.
+
+Just beyond the Three Dot gate they met the cowboy, who had gone after
+the doctor. He was riding back to tell them that the doctor was at the
+Crescent Ranch, farther up the valley.
+
+“Where did you meet Peace Parker?” questioned Claypool breathlessly. “He
+got away from us on Laughlin’s horse.”
+
+“Got away? I never met him.”
+
+“He left the road, that’s a cinch!” exploded O’Neil. “I’ll bet he went
+through the Three Dot gate.”
+
+They whirled their horses and rode swiftly back. The Three Dot
+ranch-house set back about two hundred yards from the main road. A
+light shone dully through the shade in a front window, but the rest
+of the place was a black huddle of barns and corrals.
+
+A horse crossed the road near the house and one of the cowboys whirled
+in close to it.
+
+“Here’s his horse!” he called. “This is Tony’s horse!”
+
+“Well, we’ve got him on foot,” crowed Claypool, as they dismounted.
+
+“One of yuh stay with the horses,” ordered O’Neil. “We don’t want to
+lose him ag’in.”
+
+Swiftly they walked up to the ranchhouse and O’Neil knocked on the
+door, which was opened by Frank Campion. He stared at the crowd of men
+wonderingly. In the center of the room, three more men were sitting at
+a table, playing cards, and some one was softly picking a banjo.
+
+“Seen anythin’ of Peace Parker?” asked O’Neil.
+
+“Peace Parker?” Campion’s voice sounded like he was suffering from a bad
+cold. “Why, I don’t know what you mean?”
+
+“He came this way,” explained Claypool, without giving a thought to
+the fact that Campion had not been in any position to know what it all
+meant.
+
+“He took Tony’s bronc, but we found it out here.”
+
+“Aw, ----! He don’t know what we’re talkin’ about,” said Sam Barill who
+realized that Campion had not been with them.
+
+“I sure don’t,” grinned Campion. “Wish I did.”
+
+“Yuh do, eh?” Cross L had moved in close to the door and was looking at
+the card-players.
+
+One of them was the cattle-buyer and his hands moved uncertainly on the
+table as he looked up and saw Cross L’s face framed in the door-way.
+
+“Where abouts in ---- did you come from?” said Cross L slowly, speaking
+directly at the cattle-buyer.
+
+The man only continued to stare while the rest of the crowd outside,
+sensing something out of the ordinary, tried to crowd into the
+doorway. Frank Campion moved aside, but his right hand dropped close
+to his holstered gun.
+
+“You I’m talkin’ about.”
+
+Cross L pointed directly at the cattle-buyer. “You low-born,
+insignificant, bat-eared, block-jawed tattle-tale!”
+
+Still the man did not move. The crowd moved in closer, which shoved
+Cross L into the room. Bender and Erne were at the table with the
+cattle-buyer, but now they slid their chairs slightly away.
+
+On a couch sat Mehl, sprawled at ease, while near him sat the scar-faced
+sheepherder, fingering the banjo.
+
+“Yes, yuh know me,” continued Cross L. “Yo’re Joe Campion, and if you
+had the guts of a chickadee you’d reach for your gun.”
+
+“What’s it about, Cross L?” queried Jim. “You know that jasper? He’s
+the feller that lost his horse and fell down all over the hills.
+Say--” speaking to the cattle-buyer--“why didja duck into the brush,
+instead of going on into Tarp City?”
+
+“He knowed I was there,” said Cross L coldly. “And he knowed I was jist
+kinda livin’ along, waiting for a chance to drill his dirty hide full of
+holes.”
+
+“I don’t _sabe_ how he got here,” complained Jim Horn. “Mebbe he got
+lost ag’in and traveled in a circle.”
+
+“This ain’t gettin’ Peace Parker,” reminded Claypool. “What the ---- do
+we care about Cross L’s personal affairs?”
+
+Claypool turned toward the door, but stopped in his tracks. Just inside
+was Peace Parker, his face still covered with blood, but his mouth was
+grinning widely. He was not pretty to see. Campion sidled toward the
+couch, watching Peace closely.
+
+None of the men who had been hunting him made any move toward him.
+Peace held a six-shooter at his side and his eyes took in the men at
+the table, Frank Campion and the two men on the couch. The cattle-buyer
+moved his feet slowly, as if getting ready to move quickly.
+
+“Well, we’re all together at last,” said Peace slowly.
+
+His voice sounded tired and a twinge of pain crossed his bloody face.
+
+“It’s been quite some day, hasn’t it?” he continued. “It sure--you
+scar-faced person with the banjo; keep yore hands on the banjo. You
+ain’t even a good liar, Campion. I wondered why you follered me
+across the secret pass that night I shot the gun out of yore hand in
+Tarp City, but I found out the reason.”
+
+“I don’t know what you mean?” Campion spoke softly.
+
+“You knew there was another way into the valley, but yuh didn’t know
+where it was. Rather than have trouble with you and yore men, I went
+that way and you trailed me.
+
+“Then you took that cattle-buyer in that way.”
+
+Peace pointed at the square-jawed man at the table, and the men around
+Peace shuffled uneasily.
+
+“I went through Poncho Pass into the valley and up to the secret pass
+from this side. I seen Bender, Erne and Mehl meet you two and yuh all
+rode away down the right-hand side of the mountain.”
+
+Campion tried to smile, but it faded quickly and he assumed a
+belligerent attitude.
+
+“What in ---- are you talking about, Parker? This is all Greek to me.”
+
+“He’s plumb loco,” observed the scar-faced man.
+
+“Yeah?”
+
+Peace’s eyes shifted to the sheepherder.
+
+“You killed my horse and tried to kill me, pardner. You got scared of
+the posse that was after me and pulled out----”
+
+Peace, without turning his head, spoke back to Claypool--“I was under
+that shack floor when you fellers found my horse, Claypool.”
+
+“That’s what the shootin’ was about, eh?” queried O’Neil.
+
+“Yeah. That scar-faced jasper shot my horse and planted a scheme to
+murder me in a gentlemanly manner, but his plans went all wrong. He’ll
+pay for that.”
+
+“I never shot at yuh after I shot yore horse,” denied the scar-faced man
+whiningly. “It--uh--I took the sheep----”
+
+“---- you, shut up!” snapped Frank Campion hoarsely.
+
+“Anyway, he spoke his piece,” grinned Peace. “I creased his horse and
+he took a header into the brush. Mebbe he thought the horse was dead,
+but it wasn’t. It’s the one I got shot off from up in the little pass.
+It belongs to the livery-stable at Tarp City.”
+
+“You--uh--say!” exploded Jim. “That must ’a’ been the cattle-buyer. No
+wonder he hurt himself.”
+
+“Say, what’s it all about?” demanded Claypool.
+
+It was all going too fast for him.
+
+“It means,” said Peace slowly, “that they stole my herd of sheep from
+Sun Prairie and tried to bring ’em into the valley through the little
+pass. I got there just in time to get shot by you fellers.”
+
+“And that’s Frank Campion’s father,” said Cross L, pointing toward the
+table. “I reckon he wanted to sheep out the valley on my account.”
+
+“Yes, and ---- you, we nearly done it, too!” rasped the elder Campion.
+“I’ve been layin’ for you a long time, Marshall. I served four years
+on yore account. That sheriff nailed me with the cattle, and you sent
+him.”
+
+“Yo’re danged right I did!” exploded Cross L. “You had him hoodle me out
+of town and I got even with yuh.”
+
+“But we didn’t steal your sheep, Parker.” Campion’s voice seemed
+stronger. “We’ve got a bill-of-sale from Gus Sinks. That lets us out.”
+
+“Yeah?” Peace braced his legs a trifle. “Yuh say it lets yuh out? I
+think it lets yuh in, Campion. I read that bill-of-sale, and it’s
+wrote in the same hand-writin’ that was on the note you sent to Jess
+Marshall.”
+
+“My ----!” exploded Cross L. “Is that a fact?”
+
+Peace nodded quickly, and Campion’s face went white.
+
+“You can’t cinch nobody on that kind of evidence,” he croaked.
+
+Peace ignored him and looked at the scar-faced man who was getting
+uncomfortable.
+
+“You talked too much,” said Peace. “You knowed Gus Sinks too well.
+Fact of the matter is, you knowed that he had a scar on his face and
+one finger missin’--and he ain’t got no such a thing.”
+
+The sheep-herder swallowed painfully and looked down at the toes of his
+boots.
+
+“Maybe you can prove that?” said Frank Campion sneeringly.
+
+Peace nodded.
+
+“Yeah, I think I can. In fact, I think that you know him well enough to
+know he ain’t got a scar on his face nor a missin’ finger.”
+
+“Me?”
+
+Campion screwed up his face, as though something pained him.
+
+“How in ---- would I know?”
+
+“He’s about yore size,” observed Peace slowly. “That day I took him to
+Pasiooks, I thought he knowed you. Yuh see, yore hired sheep-herder
+over there with the banjo, said that him and Gus had this deal all
+framed, but Gus never knowed there was a bank in Pasiooks until I took
+him there, and the robbery was the next day.”
+
+“What’s this got to do with me?” demanded Campion angrily. “You come
+here and talk like a fool and----”
+
+“The queer part of it all is the fact that poor old Gus never got out
+of the valley,” continued Peace. “You helped watch the Pass, Campion;
+and you knew he couldn’t come out.”
+
+“I knew he couldn’t?” Campion’s voice squeaked.
+
+“You knowed ---- well he couldn’t!”
+
+Peace had lost his bloody grin and his mouth looked like a white scar
+across his face.
+
+“You stopped him out there on the road that day he was comin’ back from
+the bank, Campion. You invited him in here. You knew Gus Sinks.”
+
+“Prove it!” panted Campion. “---- you, prove it!”
+
+Campion’s eyes flashed sideways to Bender and Erne, but they were making
+no move that might assist him.
+
+“You took his clothes, gun, horse and saddle away from him, Campion,”
+Peace’s voice sounded as harsh and metallic as a voice from a
+phonograph. “You ---- crook, you wore his clothes and robbed the bank
+yourself and threw the blame onto him. Oh, Gus!”
+
+Came the sound of a soft step and Gus Sinks came in through the door
+behind them. But he was a queer looking badman. Around his naked body
+was wrapped a dirty horse-blanket, and beneath his matted hair grinned
+the pinched, drawn face of a man who had suffered deeply.
+
+Every one, except Peace and Cross L, had turned at the sound, and Frank
+Campion took his long chance. His hand came up like a flash, holding his
+six-shooter, but Peace was looking for the move and his gun thundered
+from his hip.
+
+Campion spun around, groping with his left hand for support, but still
+trying to pull the trigger. The elder Campion flung back his chair and
+tried to pull a gun from beneath his coat, but into him went Cross L
+Marshall, bellowing a battle-cry and they went down together in a
+tangle of overturned table and splintered chair.
+
+The scar-faced gentleman flung himself backward off the couch, clawing
+for his gun; but Jim Horn did a high-dive across the couch and knocked
+all the fight out of him in a moment. Campion swayed around, still
+holding the gun, but did not have strength enough to pull the trigger,
+until Peace stepped in and took it away from him.
+
+Bender, Mehl and Erne elevated their hands and decided to take a
+chance with the law. It had all happened in a very few seconds of
+time, and Campion had barely fallen across the couch when the cowboys
+were producing lariat ropes to secure the prisoners.
+
+“My gosh, they’re still fightin’!” exploded Jim Horn. “Hey, Cross L!
+Ain’t you about through?”
+
+“Go-o-o-sh dud--darn him!” panted Cross L. “I’ve waited
+a--long--time--for--this! Danged block-jawed, bat-eared ----! Got
+enough?”
+
+Cross L got to his feet and let the battered Campion get up. Cross L
+had done his work well, although he had not escaped entirely. The elder
+Campion swayed on his feet and blinked dazedly.
+
+“I’ve lived for this,” declared Cross L. “Yessir, I’ve clung to life
+just for this one moment. Dang yuh, that’s twice I’ve licked yuh. Now
+answer me, you quitter. Did yuh ever see that girl ag’in? The one we
+fought about?”
+
+The man blinked painfully and spoke hoarsely through swollen lips:
+
+“Yeah. She waited for me, Marshall--waited four years. She was Frank’s
+mother. She died--when--he--was--born.”
+
+“Aw-w-w!”
+
+Marshall rubbed the back of his hand across his face and shook his head
+slowly. Then he turned to Peace.
+
+“Let’s go home, cowboy. Dang it all, I’m tired of fightin’. It don’t get
+yuh nothin’, does it?”
+
+Peace shook his head and turned toward the door. But the men who had
+hunted him blocked him from the doorway and wanted to shake his hand.
+Gus Sinks stood apart from the rest, a pathetic figure in his dirty
+blanket, unmoved by what had just happened.
+
+“Peace, I want to shake hands with yuh,” said Claypool contritely. “We
+come near doin’ yuh a bad wrong.”
+
+The rest of them crowded in, but Peace made no move to shake hands.
+
+“You didn’t have no faith,” he told them softly. “You was too willin’
+to see the bad side of things. Yuh all knew me, but just the same yuh
+didn’t have no faith in me. Poor old Gus, over there, told me he
+knowed I’d come. He had a lot of faith in me, even if he was hid away
+and all roped up in the root-house. If I’d ’a’ lost faith in Gus,
+you’d ’a’ been sheeped out and I’d ’a’ been hidin’ out the rest of my
+life.”
+
+“I told Campion you’d come,” nodded Gus. “But he didn’t have no faith
+either.”
+
+Peace grinned widely and started for the door, with the Cross L outfit
+and Gus Sinks trailing behind him. At the horses, Cross L touched Peace
+on the arm.
+
+“Peace, I had a talk with Jess t’night, while you was on that couch.
+She thinks you don’t care, I reckon. Campion got full of hooch one day
+and told her he was going to make this valley eat out of his hand, and
+so she thought she might be able to find out what he meant.”
+
+“She wasn’t goin’ to marry him, Cross L?”
+
+“Well, I should say not! She thought you didn’t want to marry her,
+Peace!”
+
+“Uh-huh,” said Peace softly, thoughtfully. “Well, Cross L, I reckon
+there’s all kinds of faith in the world. I kinda doubted her and she
+doubted me, but when yuh straighten out a couple of real good doubts
+thataway--it ought to build up a ---- of a lot of faith, don’tcha
+think?”
+
+“I’ve got a hunch that it will,” said Cross L thankfully. “I’ve got a
+---- big hunch that it will, Peace.”
+
+“Well, that’s faith. Let’s go home.”
+
+
+[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the November 10, 1923 issue
+of Adventure magazine.]
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78695 ***